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diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-21/5373-0.txt b/old/old-2025-02-21/5373-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b570cdc..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-21/5373-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,20934 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Richard Carvel, Complete, by Winston Churchill -[Author is the American Winston Churchill not the British] - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Richard Carvel, Complete - -Author: Winston Churchill - -Release Date: October 6, 2006 [EBook #5373] -Last Updated: February 26, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - - -CONTENTS - - Volume 1. - I. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel Hall - II. Some Memories of Childhood - III. Caught by the Tide - IV. Grafton would heal an Old Breach - V. “If Ladies be but Young and Fair” - VI. I first suffer for the Cause - VII. Grafton has his Chance - - Volume 2. - VIII. Over the Wall - IX. Under False Colours - X. The Red in the Carvel Blood - XI. A Festival and a Parting - XII. News from a Far Country - - Volume 3. - XIII. Mr. Allen shows his Hand - XIV. The Volte Coupe - XV. Of which the Rector has the Worst - XVI. In which Some Things are made Clear - XVII. South River - XVIII. The Black Moll - - Volume 4. - XIX. A Man of Destiny - XX. A Sad Home-coming - XXI. The Gardener's Cottage - XXII. On the Road - XXIII. London Town - XXIV. Castle Yard - XXV. The Rescue - - Volume 5. - XXVI. The Part Horatio played - XXVII. In which I am sore tempted - XXVIII. Arlington Street - XXIX. I meet a very Great Young Man - XXX. A Conspiracy - XXXI. “Upstairs into the World” - XXXII. Lady Tankerville's Drum-major - XXXIII. Drury Lane - - Volume 6. - XXXIV. His Grace makes Advances - XXXV. In which my Lord Baltimore appears - XXXVI. A Glimpse of Mr. Garrick - XXXVII. The Serpentine - XXXVIII. In which I am roundly brought to task - XXXIX. Holland House - XL. Vauxhall - XLI. The Wilderness - - Volume 7. - XLII. My Friends are proven - XLIII. Annapolis once more - XLIV. Noblesse Oblige - XLV. The House of Memories - XLVI. Gordon's Pride - XLVII. Visitors - XLVIII. Multum in Parvo - XLIX. Liberty loses a Friend - - Volume 8. - L. Farewell to Gordon's - LI. How an Idle Prophecy came to pass - LII. How the Gardener's Son fought the Serapis - LIII. In which I make Some Discoveries - LIV. More Discoveries. - LV. The Love of a Maid for a Man - LVI. How Good came out of Evil - LVII. I come to my Own again - - - - -FOREWORD - -My sons and daughters have tried to persuade me to remodel these memoirs -of my grandfather into a latter-day romance. But I have thought it wiser -to leave them as he wrote them. Albeit they contain some details not of -interest to the general public, to my notion it is such imperfections -as these which lend to them the reality they bear. Certain it is, when -reading them, I live his life over again. - -Needless to say, Mr. Richard Carvel never intended them for publication. -His first apology would be for his Scotch, and his only defence is that -he was not a Scotchman. - -The lively capital which once reflected the wit and fashion of Europe -has fallen into decay. The silent streets no more echo with the rumble -of coaches and gay chariots, and grass grows where busy merchants trod. -Stately ball-rooms, where beauty once reigned, are cold and empty and -mildewed, and halls, where laughter rang, are silent. Time was when -every wide-throated chimney poured forth its cloud of smoke, when every -andiron held a generous log,--andirons which are now gone to decorate -Mr. Centennial's home in New York or lie with a tag in the window of -some curio shop. The mantel, carved in delicate wreaths, is boarded up, -and an unsightly stove mocks the gilded ceiling. Children romp in that -room with the silver door-knobs, where my master and his lady were wont -to sit at cards in silk and brocade, while liveried blacks entered -on tiptoe. No marble Cupids or tall Dianas fill the niches in the -staircase, and the mahogany board, round which has been gathered many a -famous toast and wit, is gone from the dining room. - -But Mr. Carvel's town house in Annapolis stands to-day, with its -neighbours, a mournful relic of a glory that is past. - -DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL. - -CALVERT HOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA, December 21, 1876. - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - - - - -Volume 1. - - - - -CHAPTER I. LIONEL CARVEL, OF CARVEL HALL - -Lionel Carvel, Esq., of Carvel Hall, in the county of Queen Anne, was no -inconsiderable man in his Lordship's province of Maryland, and indeed -he was not unknown in the colonial capitals from Williamsburg to Boston. -When his ships arrived out, in May or June, they made a goodly showing -at the wharves, and his captains were ever shrewd men of judgment who -sniffed a Frenchman on the horizon, so that none of the Carvel tobacco -ever went, in that way, to gladden a Gallic heart. Mr. Carvel's acres -were both rich and broad, and his house wide for the stranger who might -seek its shelter, as with God's help so it ever shall be. It has yet to -be said of the Carvels that their guests are hurried away, or that one, -by reason of his worldly goods or position, shall be more welcome than -another. - -I take no shame in the pride with which I write of my grandfather, -albeit he took the part of his Majesty and Parliament against the -Colonies. He was no palavering turncoat, like my Uncle Grafton, to cry -“God save the King!” again when an English fleet sailed up the bay. Mr. -Carvel's hand was large and his heart was large, and he was respected -and even loved by the patriots as a man above paltry subterfuge. He was -born at Carvel Hall in the year of our Lord 1696, when the house was, -I am told, but a small dwelling. It was his father, George Carvel, my -great-grandsire, reared the present house in the year 1720, of brick -brought from England as ballast for the empty ships; he added on, in -the years following, the wide wings containing the ball-room, and the -banquet-hall, and the large library at the eastern end, and the offices. -But it was my grandfather who built the great stables and the kennels -where he kept his beagles and his fleeter hounds. He dearly loved the -saddle and the chase, and taught me to love them too. Many the sharp -winter day I have followed the fox with him over two counties, and lain -that night, and a week after, forsooth, at the plantation of some kind -friend who was only too glad to receive us. Often, too, have we stood -together from early morning until dark night, waist deep, on the duck -points, I with a fowling-piece I was all but too young to carry, and -brought back a hundred red-heads or canvas-backs in our bags. He went -with unfailing regularity to the races at Annapolis or Chestertown or -Marlborough, often to see his own horses run, where the coaches of -the gentry were fifty and sixty around the course; where a negro, or a -hogshead of tobacco, or a pipe of Madeira was often staked at a single -throw. Those times, my children, are not ours, and I thought it not -strange that Mr. Carvel should delight in a good main between two cocks, -or a bull-baiting, or a breaking of heads at the Chestertown fair, where -he went to show his cattle and fling a guinea into the ring for the -winner. - -But it must not be thought that Lionel Carvel, your ancestor, was wholly -unlettered because he was a sportsman, though it must be confessed that -books occupied him only when the weather compelled, or when on his back -with the gout. At times he would fain have me read to him as he lay -in his great four-post bed with the flowered counterpane, from the -Spectator, stopping me now and anon at some awakened memory of his -youth. He never forgave Mr. Addison for killing stout, old Sir Roger de -Coverley, and would never listen to the butler's account of his death. -Mr. Carvel, too, had walked in Gray's Inn Gardens and met adventure at -Fox Hall, and seen the great Marlborough himself. He had a fondness -for Mr. Congreve's Comedies, many of which he had seen acted; and was -partial to Mr. Gay's Trivia, which brought him many a recollection. He -would also listen to Pope. But of the more modern poetry I think Mr. -Gray's Elegy pleased him best. He would laugh over Swift's gall and -wormwood, and would never be brought by my mother to acknowledge the -defects in the Dean's character. Why? He had once met the Dean in a -London drawing-room, when my grandfather was a young spark at Christ -Church, Oxford. He never tired of relating that interview. The hostess -was a very great lady indeed, and actually stood waiting for a word with -his Reverence, whose whim it was rather to talk to the young provincial. -He was a forbidding figure, in his black gown and periwig, so my -grandfather said, with a piercing blue eye and shaggy brow. He made the -mighty to come to him, while young Carvel stood between laughter and -fear of the great lady's displeasure. - -“I knew of your father,” said the Dean, “before he went to the colonies. -He had done better at home, sir. He was a man of parts.” - -“He has done indifferently well in Maryland, sir,” said Mr. Carvel, -making his bow. - -“He hath gained wealth, forsooth,” says the Dean, wrathfully, “and might -have had both wealth and fame had his love for King James not turned -his head. I have heard much of the colonies, and have read that doggerel -'Sot Weed Factor' which tells of the gluttonous life of ease you lead in -your own province. You can have no men of mark from such conditions, -Mr. Carvel. Tell me,” he adds contemptuously, “is genius honoured among -you?” - -“Faith, it is honoured, your Reverence,” said my grandfather, “but never -encouraged.” - -This answer so pleased the Dean that he bade Mr. Carvel dine with him -next day at Button's Coffee House, where they drank mulled wine and old -sack, for which young Mr. Carvel paid. On which occasion his Reverence -endeavoured to persuade the young man to remain in England, and even -went so far as to promise his influence to obtain him preferment. But -Mr. Carvel chose rather (wisely or not, who can judge?) to come back to -Carvel Hall and to the lands of which he was to be master, and to play -the country squire and provincial magnate rather than follow the varying -fortunes of a political party at home. And he was a man much looked up -to in the province before the Revolution, and sat at the council board -of his Excellency the Governor, as his father had done before him, -and represented the crown in more matters than one when the French and -savages were upon our frontiers. - -Although a lover of good cheer, Mr. Carvel was never intemperate. To the -end of his days he enjoyed his bottle after dinner, nay, could scarce -get along without it; and mixed a punch or a posset as well as any in -our colony. He chose a good London-brewed ale or porter, and his ships -brought Madeira from that island by the pipe, and sack from Spain and -Portugal, and red wine from France when there was peace. And puncheons -of rum from Jamaica and the Indies for his people, holding that no -gentleman ever drank rum in the raw, though fairly supportable as punch. - -Mr. Carvel's house stands in Marlborough Street, a dreary mansion -enough. Praised be Heaven that those who inherit it are not obliged to -live there on the memory of what was in days gone by. The heavy green -shutters are closed; the high steps, though stoutly built, are shaky -after these years of disuse; the host of faithful servants who kept its -state are nearly all laid side by side at Carvel Hall. Harvey and -Chess and Scipio are no more. The kitchen, whither a boyish hunger oft -directed my eyes at twilight, shines not with the welcoming gleam -of yore. Chess no longer prepares the dainties which astonished Mr. -Carvel's guests, and which he alone could cook. The coach still -stands in the stables where Harvey left it, a lumbering relic of those -lumbering times when methinks there was more of goodwill and less of -haste in the world. The great brass knocker, once resplendent from -Scipio's careful hand, no longer fantastically reflects the guest as -he beats his tattoo, and Mr. Peale's portrait of my grandfather is gone -from the dining-room wall, adorning, as you know, our own drawing-room -at Calvert House. - -I shut my eyes, and there comes to me unbidden that dining-room in -Marlborough Street of a gray winter's afternoon, when I was but a lad. -I see my dear grandfather in his wig and silver-laced waistcoat and -his blue velvet coat, seated at the head of the table, and the precise -Scipio has put down the dumb-waiter filled with shining cut-glass at his -left hand, and his wine chest at his right, and with solemn pomp driven -his black assistants from the room. Scipio was Mr. Carvel's butler. -He was forbid to light the candles after dinner. As dark grew on, Mr. -Carvel liked the blazing logs for light, and presently sets the decanter -on the corner of the table and draws nearer the fire, his guests -following. I recall well how jolly Governor Sharpe, who was a frequent -visitor with us, was wont to display a comely calf in silk stocking; and -how Captain Daniel Clapsaddle would spread his feet with his toes out, -and settle his long pipe between his teeth. And there were besides -a host of others who sat at that fire whose names have passed into -Maryland's history,--Whig and Tory alike. And I remember a tall slip -of a lad who sat listening by the deep-recessed windows on the street, -which somehow are always covered in these pictures with a fine rain. -Then a coach passes,--a mahogany coach emblazoned with the Manners's -coat of arms, and Mistress Dorothy and her mother within. And my young -lady gives me one of those demure bows which ever set my heart agoing -like a smith's hammer of a Monday. - - - - -CHAPTER II. SOME MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD - -A traveller who has all but gained the last height of the great -mist-covered mountain looks back over the painful crags he has mastered -to where a light is shining on the first easy slope. That light is ever -visible, for it is Youth. - -After nigh fourscore and ten years of life that Youth is nearer to me -now than many things which befell me later. I recall as yesterday the -day Captain Clapsaddle rode to the Hall, his horse covered with sweat, -and the reluctant tidings of Captain Jack Carvel's death on his lips. -And strangely enough that day sticks in my memory as of delight -rather than sadness. When my poor mother had gone up the stairs on my -grandfather's arm the strong soldier took me on his knee, and drawing -his pistol from his holster bade me snap the lock, which I was barely -able to do. And he told me wonderful tales of the woods beyond the -mountains, and of the painted men who tracked them; much wilder and -fiercer they were than those stray Nanticokes I had seen from time to -time near Carvel Hall. And when at last he would go I clung to him, -so he swung me to the back of his great horse Ronald, and I seized the -bridle in my small hands. The noble beast, like his master, loved a -child well, and he cantered off lightly at the captain's whistle, who -cried “bravo” and ran by my side lest I should fall. Lifting me off at -length he kissed me and bade me not to annoy my mother, the tears in his -eyes again. And leaping on Ronald was away for the ferry with never so -much as a look behind, leaving me standing in the road. - -And from that time I saw more of him and loved him better than any man -save my grandfather. He gave me a pony on my next birthday, and a little -hogskin saddle made especially by Master Wythe, the London saddler in -the town, with a silver-mounted bridle. Indeed, rarely did the captain -return from one of his long journeys without something for me and a -handsome present for my mother. Mr. Carvel would have had him make his -home with us when we were in town, but this he would not do. He lodged -in Church Street, over against the Coffee House, dining at that hostelry -when not bidden out, or when not with us. He was much sought after. -I believe there was scarce a man of note in any of the colonies not -numbered among his friends. 'Twas said he loved my mother, and could -never come to care for any other woman, and he promised my father in the -forests to look after her welfare and mine. This promise, you shall see, -he faithfully kept. - -Though you have often heard from my lips the story of my mother, I must -for the sake of those who are to come after you, set it down here -as briefly as I may. My grandfather's bark 'Charming Sally', Captain -Stanwix, having set out from Bristol on the 15th of April, 1736, with -a fair wind astern and a full cargo of English goods below, near the -Madeiras fell in with foul weather, which increased as she entered the -trades. Captain Stanwix being a prudent man, shortened sail, knowing the -harbour of Funchal to be but a shallow bight in the rock, and worse than -the open sea in a southeaster. The third day he hove the Sally to; being -a stout craft and not overladen she weathered the gale with the loss of -a jib, and was about making topsails again when a full-rigged ship was -descried in the offing giving signals of distress. Night was coming on -very fast, and the sea was yet running too high for a boat to live, but -the gallant captain furled his topsails once more to await the morning. -It could be seen from her signals that the ship was living throughout -the night, but at dawn she foundered before the Sally's boats could be -put in the water; one of them was ground to pieces on the falls. Out of -the ship's company and passengers they picked up but five souls, four -sailors and a little girl of two years or thereabouts. The men knew -nothing more of her than that she had come aboard at Brest with -her mother, a quiet, delicate lady who spoke little with the other -passengers. The ship was 'La Favourite du Roy', bound for the French -Indies. - -Captain Stanwix's wife, who was a good, motherly person, took charge -of the little orphan, and arriving at Carvel Hall delivered her to my -grandfather, who brought her up as his own daughter. You may be sure the -emblem of Catholicism found upon her was destroyed, and she was baptized -straightway by Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, into the -Established Church. Her clothes were of the finest quality, and her -little handkerchief had worked into the corner of it a coronet, with the -initials “E de T” beside it. Around her neck was that locket with the -gold chain which I have so often shown you, on one side of which is the -miniature of the young officer in his most Christian Majesty's uniform, -and on the other a yellow-faded slip of paper with these words: “Elle -est la mienne, quoiqu'elle ne porte pas mou nom.” “She is mine, although -she does not bear my name.” - -My grandfather wrote to the owners of 'La Favourite du Roy', and -likewise directed his English agent to spare nothing in the search for -some clew to the child's identity. All that he found was that the mother -had been entered on the passenger-list as Madame la Farge, of Paris, and -was bound for Martinico. Of the father there was no trace whatever. -The name “la Farge” the agent, Mr. Dix, knew almost to a certainty was -assumed, and the coronet on the handkerchief implied that the child was -of noble parentage. The meaning conveyed by the paper in the locket, -which was plainly a clipping from a letter, was such that Mr. Carvel -never showed it to my mother, and would have destroyed it had he not -felt that some day it might aid in solving the mystery. So he kept it in -his strongbox, where he thought it safe from prying eyes. But my Uncle -Grafton, ever a deceitful lad, at length discovered the key and read the -paper, and afterwards used the knowledge he thus obtained as a reproach -and a taunt against my mother. I cannot even now write his name without -repulsion. - -This new member of the household was renamed Elizabeth Carvel, though -they called her Bess, and of a course she was greatly petted and -spoiled, and ruled all those about her. As she grew from childhood to -womanhood her beauty became talked about, and afterwards, when Mistress -Carvel went to the Assembly, a dozen young sparks would crowd about the -door of her coach, and older and more serious men lost their heads on -her account. - -Her devotion to Mr. Carvel was such, however, that she seemed to care -but little for the attention she received, and she continued to grace -his board and entertain his company. He fairly worshipped her. It was -his delight to surprise her with presents from England, with rich silks -and brocades for gowns, for he loved to see her bravely dressed. The -spinet he gave her, inlaid with ivory, we have still. And he caused a -chariot to be made for her in London, and she had her own horses and her -groom in the Carvel livery. - -People said it was but natural that she should fall in love with Captain -Jack, my father. He was the soldier of the family, tall and straight and -dashing. He differed from his younger brother Grafton as day from -night. Captain Jack was open and generous, though a little given to rash -enterprise and madcap adventure. He loved my mother from a child. His -friend Captain Clapsaddle loved her too, and likewise Grafton, but it -soon became evident that she would marry Captain Jack or nobody. He was -my grandfather's favourite, and though Mr. Carvel had wished him more -serious, his joy when Bess blushingly told him the news was a pleasure -to see. And Grafton turned to revenge; he went to Mr. Carvel with the -paper he had taken from the strong-box and claimed that my mother was of -spurious birth and not fit to marry a Carvel. He afterwards spread the -story secretly among the friends of the family. By good fortune little -harm arose therefrom, since all who knew my mother loved her, and were -willing to give her credit for the doubt; many, indeed, thought the -story sprang from Grafton's jealousy and hatred. Then it was that Mr. -Carvel gave to Grafton the estate in Kent County and bade him shift for -himself, saying that he washed his hands of a son who had acted such a -part. - -But Captain Clapsaddle came to the wedding in the long drawing-room at -the Hall and stood by Captain Jack when he was married, and kissed the -bride heartily. And my mother cried about this afterwards, and said that -it grieved her sorely that she should have given pain to such a noble -man. - -After the blow which left her a widow, she continued to keep Mr. -Carvel's home. I recall her well, chiefly as a sad and beautiful woman, -stately save when she kissed me with passion and said that I bore my -father's look. She drooped like the flower she was, and one spring day -my grandfather led me to receive her blessing and to be folded for -the last time in those dear arms. With a smile on her lips she rose -to heaven to meet my father. And she lies buried with the rest of the -Carvels at the Hall, next to the brave captain, her husband. - -And so I grew up with my grandfather, spending the winters in town and -the long summers on the Eastern Shore. I loved the country best, and the -old house with its hundred feet of front standing on the gentle slope -rising from the river's mouth, the green vines Mr. Carvel had fetched -from England all but hiding the brick, and climbing to the angled -roof; and the velvet green lawn of silvery grass brought from England, -descending gently terrace by terrace to the waterside, where lay our -pungies and barges. There was then a tiny pillared porch framing the -front door, for our ancestors never could be got to realize the Maryland -climate, and would rarely build themselves wide verandas suitable to -that colony. At Carvel Hall we had, to be sure, the cool spring house -under the willows for sultry days, with its pool dished out for bathing; -and a trellised arbour, and octagonal summer house with seats where -my mother was wont to sit sewing while my grandfather dreamed over his -pipe. On the lawn stood the oaks and walnuts and sycamores which still -cast their shade over it, and under them of a summer's evening Mr. -Carvel would have his tea alone; save oftentimes when a barge would come -swinging up the river with ten velvet-capped blacks at the oars, and -one of our friendly neighbours--Mr. Lloyd or Mr. Bordley, or perchance -little Mr. Manners--would stop for a long evening with him. They seldom -came without their ladies and children. What romps we youngsters had -about the old place whilst our elders talked their politics. - -In childhood the season which delighted me the most was spring. I would -count the days until St. Taminas, which, as you knew, falls on the first -of May. And the old custom was for the young men to deck themselves out -as Indian bucks and sweep down on the festivities around the Maypole on -the town green, or at night to surprise the guests at a ball and force -the gentlemen to pay down a shilling, and sometimes a crown apiece, and -the host to give them a bowl of punch. Then came June. My grandfather -celebrated his Majesty's birthday in his own jolly fashion, and I had my -own birthday party on the tenth. And on the fifteenth, unless it chanced -upon a Sunday, my grandfather never failed to embark in his pinnace at -the Annapolis dock for the Hall. Once seated in the stern between Mr. -Carvel's knees, what rapture when at last we shot out into the blue -waters of the bay and I thought of the long summer of joy before me. -Scipio was generalissimo of these arrangements, and was always at the -dock punctually at ten to hand my grandfather in, a ceremony in which he -took great pride, and to look his disapproval should we be late. As he -turned over the key of the town house he would walk away with a stern -dignity to marshal the other servants in the horse-boat. - -One fifteenth of June two children sat with bated breath in the -pinnace,--Dorothy Manners and myself. Mistress Dolly was then as -mischievous a little baggage as ever she proved afterwards. She was -coming to pass a week at the Hall, her parents, whose place was next to -ours, having gone to Philadelphia on a visit. We rounded Kent Island, -which lay green and beautiful in the flashing waters, and at length -caught sight of the old windmill, with its great arms majestically -turning, and the cupola of Carvel House shining white among the trees; -and of the upper spars of the shipping, with sails neatly furled, lying -at the long wharves, where the English wares Mr. Carvel had commanded -for the return trips were unloading. Scarce was the pinnace brought into -the wind before I had leaped ashore and greeted with a shout the Hall -servants drawn up in a line on the green, grinning a welcome. Dorothy -and I scampered over the grass and into the cool, wide house, resting -awhile on the easy sloping steps within, hand in hand. And then away for -that grand tour of inspection we had been so long planning together. How -well I recall that sunny afternoon, when the shadows of the great oaks -were just beginning to lengthen. Through the greenhouses we marched, -monarchs of all we surveyed, old Porphery, the gardener, presenting -Mistress Dolly with a crown of orange blossoms, for which she thanked -him with a pretty courtesy her governess had taught her. Were we not -king and queen returned to our summer palace? And Spot and Silver and -Song and Knipe, the wolf-hound, were our train, though not as decorous -as rigid etiquette demanded, since they were forever running after the -butterflies. On we went through the stiff, box-bordered walks of the -garden, past the weather-beaten sundial and the spinning-house and the -smoke-house to the stables. Here old Harvey, who had taught me to -ride Captain Daniel's pony, is equerry, and young Harvey our personal -attendant; old Harvey smiles as we go in and out of the stalls rubbing -the noses of our trusted friends, and gives a gruff but kindly warning -as to Cassandra's heels. He recalls my father at the same age. - -Jonas Tree, the carpenter, sits sunning himself on his bench before the -shop, but mysteriously disappears when he sees us, and returns presently -with a little ship he has fashioned for me that winter, all complete -with spars and sails, for Jonas was a shipwright on the Severn in the -old country before he came as a king's passenger to the new. Dolly and -I are off directly to the backwaters of the river, where the new boat -is launched with due ceremony as the Conqueror, his Majesty's latest -ship-of-the-line. Jonas himself trims her sails, and she sets off right -gallantly across the shallows, heeling to the breeze for all the world -like a real man-o'-war. Then the King would fain cruise at once against -the French, but Queen Dorothy must needs go with him. His Majesty points -out that when fighting is to be done, a ship of war is no place for a -woman, whereat her Majesty stamps her little foot and throws her crown -of orange blossoms from her, and starts off for the milk-house in high -dudgeon, vowing she will play no more. - -And it ends as it ever will end, be the children young or old, for the -French pass from his Majesty's mind and he runs after his consort to -implore forgiveness, leaving poor Jonas to take care of the Conqueror. - -How short those summer days? All too short for the girl and boy who had -so much to do in them. The sun rising over the forest often found us -peeping through the blinds, and when he sank into the bay at night we -were still running, tired but happy, and begging patient Hester for half -an hour more. - -“Lawd, Marse Dick,” I can hear her say, “you an' Miss Dolly's been on -yo' feet since de dawn. And so's I, honey.” - -And so we had. We would spend whole days on the wharves, all bustle and -excitement, sometimes seated on the capstan of the Sprightly Bess or -perched in the nettings of the Oriole, of which ship old Stanwix was -now captain. He had grown gray in Mr. Carvel's service, and good Mrs. -Stanwix was long since dead. Often we would mount together on the little -horse Captain Daniel had given me, Dorothy on a pillion behind, to go -with my grandfather to inspect the farm. Mr. Starkie, the overseer, -would ride beside us, his fowling-piece slung over his shoulder and his -holster on his hip; a kind man and capable, and unlike Mr. Evans, my -Uncle Grafton's overseer, was seldom known to use his firearms or the -rawhide slung across his saddle. The negroes in their linsey-woolsey -jackets and checked trousers would stand among the hills grinning at us -children as we passed; and there was not one of them, nor of the white -servants for that matter, that I could not call by name. - -And all this time I was busily wooing Mistress Dolly; but she, little -minx, would give me no satisfaction. I see her standing among the -strawberries, her black hair waving in the wind, and her red lips redder -still from the stain. And the sound of her childish voice comes back to -me now after all these years. And this was my first proposal: - -“Dorothy, when you grow up and I grow up, you will marry me, and I shall -give you all these strawberries.” - -“I will marry none but a soldier,” says she, “and a great man.” - -“Then will I be a soldier,” I cried, “and greater than the Governor -himself.” And I believed it. - -“Papa says I shall marry an earl,” retorts Dorothy, with a toss of her -pretty head. - -“There are no earls among us,” I exclaimed hotly, for even then I had -some of that sturdy republican spirit which prevailed among the younger -generation. “Our earls are those who have made their own way, like my -grandfather.” For I had lately heard Captain Clapsaddle say this and -much more on the subject. But Dorothy turned up her nose. - -“I shall go home when I am eighteen,”--she said, “and I shall meet his -Majesty the King.” - -And to such an argument I found no logical answer. - -Mr. Marmaduke Manners and his lady came to fetch Dorothy home. He was -a foppish little gentleman who thought more of the cut of his waistcoat -than of the affairs of the province, and would rather have been bidden -to lead the assembly ball than to sit in council with his Excellency -the Governor. My first recollection of him is of contempt. He must needs -have his morning punch just so, and complained whiningly of Scipio if -some perchance were spilled on the glass. He must needs be taken abroad -in a chair when it rained. And though in the course of a summer he was -often at Carvel Hall he never tarried long, and came to see Mr. -Carvel's guests rather than Mr. Carvel. He had little in common with my -grandfather, whose chief business and pleasure was to promote industry -on his farm. Mr. Marmaduke was wont to rise at noon, and knew not wheat -from barley, or good leaf from bad; his hands he kept like a lady's, -rendering them almost useless by the long lace on the sleeves, and his -chief pastime was card-playing. It was but reasonable therefore, when -the troubles with the mother country began, that he chose the King's -side alike from indolence and contempt for things republican. - -Of Mrs. Manners I shall say more by and by. - -I took a mischievous delight in giving Mr. Manners every annoyance -my boyish fancy could conceive. The evening of his arrival he and Mr. -Carvel set out for a stroll about the house, Mr. Marmaduke mincing his -steps, for it had rained that morning. And presently they came upon -the windmill with its long arms moving lazily in the light breeze, near -touching the ground as they passed, for the mill was built in the Dutch -fashion. I know not what moved me, but hearing Mr. Manners carelessly -humming a minuet while my grandfather explained the usefulness of the -mill, I seized hold of one of the long arms as it swung by, and -before the gentlemen could prevent was carried slowly upwards. Dorothy -screamed, and her father stood stock still with amazement and fear, Mr. -Carvel being the only one who kept his presence of mind. “Hold on tight, -Richard!” I heard him cry. It was dizzy riding, though the motion was -not great, and before I had reached the right angle I regretted my -rashness. I caught a glimpse of the Bay with the red sun on it, and as -I turned saw far below me the white figure of Ivie Rawlinson, the -Scotch miller, who had run out. “O haith!” he shouted. “Hand fast, -Mr. Richard!”--And so I clung tightly and came down without much -inconvenience, though indifferently glad to feel the ground again. - -Mr. Marmaduke, as I expected, was in a great temper, and swore he had -not had such a fright for years. He looked for Mr. Carvel to cane me -stoutly: But Ivie laughed heartily, and said: “I wad yell gang far for -anither laddie wi' the spunk, Mr. Manners,” and with a sly look at my -grandfather, “Ilka day we hae some sic whigmeleery.” - -I think Mr. Carvel was not ill pleased with the feat, or with Mr. -Marmaduke's way of taking it. For afterwards I overheard him telling the -story to Colonel Lloyd, and both gentlemen laughing over Mr. Manners's -discomfiture. - - - - -CHAPTER III. CAUGHT BY THE TIDE - -It is a nigh impossible task on the memory to trace those influences by -which a lad is led to form his life's opinions, and for my part I hold -that such things are bred into the bone, and that events only serve to -strengthen them. In this way only can I account for my bitterness, at -a very early age, against that King whom my seeming environment should -have made me love. For my grandfather was as stanch a royalist as ever -held a cup to majesty's health. And children are most apt before they -can reason for themselves to take the note from those of their elders -who surround them. It is true that many of Mr. Carvel's guests were of -the opposite persuasion from him: Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll, Mr. -Lloyd and Mr. Bordley, and many others, including our friend Captain -Clapsaddle. And these gentlemen were frequently in argument, but -political discussion is Greek to a lad. - -Mr. Carvel, as I have said, was most of his life a member of the -Council, a man from whom both Governor Sharpe and Governor Eden were -glad to take advice because of his temperate judgment and deep knowledge -of the people of the province. At times, when his Council was scattered, -Governor Sharpe would consult Mr. Carvel alone, and often have I known -my grandfather to embark in haste from the Hall in response to a call -from his Excellency. - -'Twas in the latter part of August, in the year 1765, made memorable by -the Stamp Act, that I first came in touch with the deep-set feelings of -the times then beginning, and I count from that year the awakening of -the sympathy which determined my career. One sultry day I was wading in -the shallows after crabs, when the Governor's messenger came drifting -in, all impatience at the lack of wind. He ran to the house to seek Mr. -Carvel, and I after him, with all a boy's curiosity, as fast as my small -legs would carry me. My grandfather hurried out to order his barge to -be got ready at once, so that I knew something important was at hand. At -first he refused me permission to go, but afterwards relented, and about -eleven in the morning we pulled away strongly, the ten blacks bending to -the oars as if their lives were at stake. - -A wind arose before we sighted Greensbury Point, and I saw a bark -sailing in, but thought nothing of this until Mr. Carvel, who had been -silent and preoccupied, called for his glass and swept her decks. She -soon shortened sail, and went so leisurely that presently our light -barge drew alongside, and I perceived Mr. Zachariah Hood, a merchant -of the town, returning from London, hanging over her rail. Mr. Hood was -very pale in spite of his sea-voyage; he flung up his cap at our boat, -but Mr. Carvel's salute in return was colder than he looked for. As -we came in view of the dock, a fine rain was setting in, and to my -astonishment I beheld such a mass of people assembled as I had never -seen, and scarce standing-room on the wharves. We were to have gone -to the Governor's wharf in the Severn, but my grandfather changed his -intention at once. Many of the crowd greeted him as we drew near them, -and, having landed, respectfully made room for him to pass through. I -followed him a-tremble with excitement and delight over such an unwonted -experience. We had barely gone ten paces, however, before Mr. Carvel -stopped abreast of Mr. Claude, mine host of the Coffee House, who cried: - -“Hast seen his Majesty's newest representative, Mr. Carvel?” - -“Mr. Hood is on board the bark, sir,” replied my grandfather. “I take it -you mean Mr. Hood.” - -“Ay, that I do; Mr. Zachariah Hood, come to lick stamps for his -brother-colonists.” - -“After licking his Majesty's boots,” says a wag near by, which brings a -laugh from those about us. I remembered that I had heard some talk as -to how Mr. Hood had sought and obtained from King George the office of -Stamp Distributor for the province. Now, my grandfather, God rest him! -was as doughty an old gentleman as might well be, and would not listen -without protest to remarks which bordered sedition. He had little fear -of things below, and none of a mob. - -“My masters,” he shouted, with a flourish of his stick, so stoutly that -people fell back from him, “know that ye are met against the law, and -endanger the peace of his Lordship's government.” - -“Good enough, Mr. Carvel,” said Claude, who seemed to be the spokesman. -“But how if we are stamped against law and his Lordship's government? -How then, sir? Your honour well knows we have naught against either, and -are as peaceful a mob as ever assembled.” - -This brought on a great laugh, and they shouted from all sides, “How -then, Mr. Carvel?” And my grandfather, perceiving that he would lose -dignity by argument, and having done his duty by a protest, was wisely -content with that. They opened wider the lane for him to pass through, -and he made his way, erect and somewhat defiant, to Mr. Pryse's, the -coachmaker opposite, holding me by the hand. The second storey of -Pryse's shop had a little balcony standing out in front, and here we -established ourselves, that we might watch what was going forward. - -The crowd below grew strangely silent as the bark came nearer and -nearer, until Mr. Hood showed himself on the poop, when there rose a -storm of hisses, mingled with shouts of derision. “How goes it at St. -James, Mr. Hood?” and “Have you tasted his Majesty's barley?” And some -asked him if he was come as their member of Parliament. Mr. Hood dropped -a bow, though what he said was drowned. The bark came in prettily -enough, men in the crowd even catching her lines and making them fast -to the piles. A gang-plank was thrown over. “Come out, Mr. Hood,” they -cried; “we are here to do you honour, and to welcome you home again.” - There were leather breeches with staves a-plenty around that plank, and -faces that meant no trifling. “McNeir, the rogue,” exclaimed Mr. Carvel, -“and that hulk of a tanner, Brown. And I would know those smith's -shoulders in a thousand.” “Right, sir,” says Pryse, “and 'twill serve -them proper. when the King's troops come among them for quartering.” - Pryse being the gentry's patron, shaped his politics according to the -company he was in: he could ill be expected to seize one of his own ash -spokes and join the resistance. Just then I caught a glimpse of Captain -Clapsaddle on the skirts of the crowd, and with him Mr. Swain and some -of the dissenting gentry. And my boyish wrath burst forth against that -man smirking and smiling on the decks of the bark, so that I shouted -shrilly: “Mr. Hood will be cudgelled and tarred as he deserves,” and -shook my little fist at him, so that many under us laughed and cheered -me. Mr. Carvel pushed me back into the window and out of their sight. - -The crew of the bark had assembled on the quarterdeck, stout English -tars every man of them, armed with pikes and belaying-pins; and at -a word from the mate they rushed in a body over the plank. Some were -thrust off into the water, but so fierce was their onset that others -gained the wharf, laying sharply about them in all directions, but -getting full as many knocks as they gave. For a space there was a -very bedlam of cries and broken heads, those behind in the mob surging -forward to reach the scrimmage, forcing their own comrades over the -edge. McNeir had his thigh broken by a pike, and was dragged back after -the first rush was over; and the mate of the bark was near to drowning, -being rescued, indeed, by Graham, the tanner. Mr. Hood stood white in -the gangway, dodging a missile now and then, waiting his chance, which -never came. For many of the sailors were captured and carried bodily -to the “Rose and Crown” and the “Three Blue Balls,” where they became -properly drunk on Jamaica rum; others made good their escape on board. -And at length the bark cast off again, amidst jeers and threats, and -one-third of her crew missing, and drifted slowly back to the roads. - -From the dock, after all was quiet, Mr. Carvel stepped into his barge -and rowed to the Governor's, whose house was prettily situated near -Hanover Street, with ground running down to the Severn. His Excellency -appeared much relieved to see my grandfather; Mr. Daniel Dulany was -with him, and the three gentlemen at once repaired to the Governor's -writing-closet for consultation. - -Mr. Carvel's town house being closed, we stopped with his Excellency. -There were, indeed, scarce any of the gentry in town at that season save -a few of the Whig persuasion. Excitement ran very high; farmers -flocked in every day from the country round about to take part in the -demonstration against the Act. Mr. Hood's storehouse was burned to the -ground. Mr. Hood getting ashore by stealth, came, however, unmolested to -Annapolis and offered at a low price the goods he had brought out in the -bark, thinking thus to propitiate his enemies. This step but inflamed -them the more. - -My grandfather having much business to look to, I was left to my own -devices, and the devices of an impetuous lad of twelve are not always -such as his elders would choose for him. I was continually burning with -a desire to see what was proceeding in the town, and hearing one day a -great clamour and tolling of bells, I ran out of the Governor's gate and -down Northwest Street to the Circle, where a strange sight met my eyes. -A crowd like that I had seen on the dock had collected there, Mr. Swain -and Mr. Hammond and other barristers holding them in check. Mounted on -a one-horse cart was a stuffed figure of the detested Mr. Hood. Mr. -Hammond made a speech, but for the laughter and cheering I could not -catch a word of it. I pushed through the people, as a boy will, diving -between legs to get a better view, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, -bringing me up suddenly. And I recognized Mr. Matthias Tilghman, and -with him was Mr. Samuel Chase. - -“Does your grandfather know you are here, lad?” said Mr. Tilghman. - -I paused a moment for breath before I answered: “He attended the rally -at the dock himself, sir, and I believe enjoyed it.” - -Both gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Chase remarked that if all the other -party were like Mr. Carvel, troubles would soon cease. “I mean not -Grafton,” says he, with a wink at Mr. Tilghman. - -“I'll warrant, Richard, your uncle would be but ill pleased to see you -in such company.” - -“Nay, sir,” I replied, for I never feared to speak up, “there are you -wrong. I think it would please my uncle mightily.” - -“The lad hath indifferent penetration,” said Mr, Tilghman, laughing, and -adding more soberly: “If you never do worse than this, Richard, Maryland -may some day be proud of you.” - -Mr. Hammond having finished his speech, a paper was placed in the hand -of the effigy, and the crowd bore it shouting and singing to the hill, -where Mr. John Shaw, the city carpenter, had made a gibbet. There nine -and thirty lashes were bestowed on the unfortunate image, the people -crying out that this was the Mosaic Law. And I cried as loud as any, -though I knew not the meaning of the words. They hung Mr. Hood to the -gibbet and set fire to a tar barrel under him, and so left him. - -The town wore a holiday look that day, and I was loth to go back to -the Governor's house. Good patriots' shops were closed, their owners -parading as on Sunday in their best, pausing in knots at every corner -to discuss the affair with which the town simmered. I encountered old -Farris, the clockmaker, in his brown coat besprinkled behind with powder -from his queue. “How now, Master Richard?” says he, merrily. “This is no -place for young gentlemen of your persuasion.” - -Next I came upon young Dr. Courtenay, the wit of the Tuesday Club, of -whom I shall have more to say hereafter. He was taking the air with Mr. -James Fotheringay, Will's eldest brother, but lately back from Oxford -and the Temple. - -The doctor wore five-pound ruffles and a ten-pound wig, was dressed in -cherry silk, and carried a long, clouded cane. His hat had the latest -cock, for he was our macaroni of Annapolis. - -“Egad, Richard,” he cries, “you are the only other loyalist I have seen -abroad to-day.” - -I remember swelling with indignation at the affront. “I call them -Tories, sir,” I flashed back, “and I am none such.” “No Tory!” says he, -nudging Mr. Fotheringay, who was with him; “I had as lief believe your -grandfather hated King George.” I astonished them both by retorting that -Mr. Carvel might think as he pleased, that being every man's right; but -that I chose to be a Whig. “I would tell you as a friend, young man,” - replied the doctor, “that thy politics are not over politic.” And they -left me puzzling, laughing with much relish over some catch in the -doctor's words. As for me, I could perceive no humour in them. - -It was now near six of the clock, but instead of going direct to the -Governor's I made my way down Church Street toward the water. Near the -dock I saw many people gathered in the street in front of the “Ship” - tavern, a time-honoured resort much patronized by sailors. My curiosity -led me to halt there also. The “Ship” had stood in that place nigh on -to three-score years, it was said. Its latticed windows were swung open, -and from within came snatches of “Tom Bowling,” “Rule Britannia,” and -many songs scarce fit for a child to hear. Now and anon some one in the -street would throw back a taunt to these British sentiments, which went -unheeded. “They be drunk as lords,” said Weld, the butcher's apprentice, -“and when they comes out we'll hev more than one broken head in this -street.” The songs continuing, he cried again, “Come out, d-n ye.” Weld -had had more than his own portion of rum that day. Spying me seated on -the gate-post opposite, he shouted: “So ho, Master Carvel, the streets -are not for his Majesty's supporters to-day.” Other artisans who were -there bade him leave me in peace, saying that my grandfather was a good -friend of the people. The matter might have ended there had I been older -and wiser, but the excitement of the day had gone to my head like wine. -“I am as stout a patriot as you, Weld,” I shouted back, and flushed at -the cheering that followed. And Weld ran up to me, and though I was a -good piece of a lad, swung me lightly onto his shoulder. “Harkee, Master -Richard,” he said, “I can get nothing out of the poltroons by shouting. -Do you go in and say that Weld will fight any mother's son of them -single-handed.” - -“For shame, to send a lad into a tavern,” said old Bobbins, who had -known my grandfather these many years. But the desire for a row was so -great among the rest that they silenced him. Weld set me down, and I, -nothing loth, ran through the open door. - -I had never before been in the “Ship,” nor, indeed, in any tavern save -that of Master Dingley, near Carvel Hall. The “Ship” was a bare place -enough, with low black beams and sanded floor, and rough tables and -chairs set about. On that September evening it was stifling hot; and the -odours from the men, and the spilled rum and tobacco smoke, well-nigh -overpowered me. The room was filled with a motley gang of sailors, -mostly from the bark Mr. Hood had come on, and some from H.M.S. Hawk, -then lying in the harbour. - -A strapping man-o'-war's-man sat near the door, his jacket thrown open -and his great chest bared, and when he perceived me he was in the act of -proposing a catch; 'twas “The Great Bell o' Lincoln,” I believe; and -he held a brimming cup of bumbo in his hand. In his surprise he set it -awkwardly down again, thereby spilling full half of it. “Avast,” says -he, with an oath, “what's this come among us?” and he looked me over -with a comical eye. “A d-d provincial,” he went on scornfully, “but a -gentleman's son, or Jack Ball's a liar.” Whereupon his companions rose -from their seats and crowded round me. More than one reeled against -me. And though I was somewhat awed by the strangeness of that dark, -ill-smelling room, and by the rough company in which I found myself, I -held my ground, and spoke up as strongly as I might. - -“Weld, the butcher's apprentice, bids me say he will fight any man among -you single-handed.” - -“So ho, my little gamecock, my little schooner with a swivel,” said he -who had called himself Jack Ball, “and where can this valiant butcher be -found?” - -“He waits in the street,” I answered more boldly. - -“Split me fore and aft if he waits long,” said Jack, draining the rest -of his rum. And picking me up as easily as did Weld he rushed out of -the door, and after him as many of his mates as could walk or stagger -thither. - -In the meantime the news had got abroad in the street that the butcher's -apprentice was to fight one of the Hawk's men, and when I emerged from -the tavern the crowd had doubled, and people were running hither in all -haste from both directions. But that fight was never to be. Big Jack -Ball had scarce set me down and shouted a loud defiance, shaking his -fist at Weld, who stood out opposite, when a soldierly man on a great -horse turned the corner and wheeled between the combatants. I knew at -a glance it was Captain Clapsaddle, and guiltily wished myself at the -Governor's. The townspeople knew him likewise, and many were slinking -away even before he spoke, as his charger stood pawing the ground. - -“What's this I hear, you villain,” said he to Weld, in his deep, ringing -voice, “that you have not only provoked a row with one of the King's -sailors, but have dared send a child into that tavern with your fool's -message?” - -Weld was awkward and sullen enough, and no words came to him. - -“Your tongue, you sot,” the captain went on, drawing his sword in his -anger, “is it true you have made use of a gentleman's son for your low -purposes?” - -But Weld was still silent, and not a sound came from either side until -old Robbins spoke up. - -“There are many here can say I warned him, your honour,” he said. - -“Warned him!” cried the captain. “Mr. Carvel has just given you twenty -pounds for your wife, and you warned him!” - -Robbins said no more; and the butcher's apprentice, hanging his head, -as well he might before the captain, I was much moved to pity for him, -seeing that my forwardness had in some sense led him on. - -“Twas in truth my fault, captain,” I cried out. The captain looked at -me, and said nothing. After that the butcher made bold to take up his -man's defence. - -“Master Carvel was indeed somewhat to blame, sir,” said he, “and Weld is -in liquor.” - -“And I'll have him to pay for his drunkenness,” said Captain Clapsaddle, -hotly. “Get to your homes,” he cried. “Ye are a lot of idle hounds, who -would make liberty the excuse for riot.” He waved his sword at the pack -of them, and they scattered like sheep until none but Weld was left. -“And as for you, Weld,” he continued, “you'll rue this pretty business, -or Daniel Clapsaddle never punished a cut-throat.” And turning to Jack -Ball, he bade him lift me to the saddle, and so I rode with him to the -Governor's without a word; for I knew better than to talk when he was in -that mood. - -The captain was made to tarry and sup with his Excellency and my -grandfather, and I sat perforce a fourth at the table, scarce daring to -conjecture as to the outcome of my escapade. But as luck would have -it, the Governor had been that day in such worry and perplexity, and my -grandfather also, that my absence had passed unnoticed. Nor did my good -friend the captain utter a word to them of what he knew. But afterwards -he called me to him and set me upon his knee. How big, and kind, and -strong he was, and how I loved his bluff soldier's face and blunt ways. -And when at last he spoke, his words burnt deep in my memory, so that -even now I can repeat them. - -“Richard,” he said, “I perceive you are like your father. I love your -spirit greatly, but you have been overrash to-day. Remember this, lad, -that you are a gentleman, the son of the bravest and truest gentleman -I have ever known, save one; and he is destined to high things.” I know -now that he spoke of Colonel Washington. “And that your mother,” here -his voice trembled,--“your mother was a lady, every inch of her, and too -good for this world. Remember, and seek no company, therefore, beyond -that circle in which you were born. Fear not to be kind and generous, as -I know you ever will be, but choose not intimates from the tavern.” Here -the captain cleared his throat, and seemed to seek for words. “I fear -there are times coming, my lad,” he went on presently, “when every man -must choose his side, and stand arrayed in his own colours. It is not -for me to shape your way of thinking. Decide in your own mind that which -is right, and when you have so decided,”--he drew his sword, as was his -habit when greatly moved, and placed his broad hand upon my head,--“know -then that God is with you, and swerve not from thy course the width of -this blade for any man.” - -We sat upon a little bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the -wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the -setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have -sometimes since felt in the presence of heroes. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH - -Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as ever -wore a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved me -as much by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. The -worthy doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenly -at Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visiting -a poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but three -years of fourscore come Whitsuntide. He was universally loved and -respected in that district where he had lived so long and ably, by -rich and poor alike, and those of many creeds saw him to his last -resting-place. Mr. Carroll, of Carrollton, who was an ardent Catholic, -stood bareheaded beside the grave. - -Doctor Hilliard was indeed a beacon in a time when his profession among -us was all but darkness, and when many of the scandals of the community -might be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to prevent them. -The fault lay without doubt in his Lordship's charter, which gave to the -parishioners no voice in the choosing of their pastors. This matter was -left to Lord Baltimore's whim. Hence it was that he sent among us -so many fox-hunting and gaming parsons who read the service ill and -preached drowsy and illiterate sermons. Gaming and fox-hunting, did -I say? These are but charitable words to cover the real characters of -those impostors in holy orders, whose doings would often bring the -blush of shame to your cheeks. Nay, I have seen a clergyman drunk in the -pulpit, and even in those freer days their laxity and immorality -were such that many flocked to hear the parsons of the Methodists and -Lutherans, whose simple and eloquent words and simpler lives were worthy -of their cloth. Small wonder was it, when every strolling adventurer and -soldier out of employment took orders and found favour in his Lordship's -eyes, and were given the fattest livings in place of worthier men, that -the Established Church fell somewhat into disrepute. Far be it from me -to say that there were not good men and true in that Church, but the wag -who writ this verse, which became a common saying in Maryland, was not -far wrong for the great body of them:-- - - “Who is a monster of the first renown? - A lettered sot, a drunkard in a gown.” - -My grandfather did not replace Dr. Hilliard at the Hall, afterwards -saying the prayers himself. The doctor had been my tutor, and in spite -of my waywardness and lack of love for the classics had taught me -no little Latin and Greek, and early instilled into my mind those -principles necessary for the soul's salvation. I have often thought with -regret on the pranks I played him. More than once at lesson-time have I -gone off with Hugo and young Harvey for a rabbit hunt, stealing two dogs -from the pack, and thus committing a double offence. You may be sure -I was well thrashed by Mr. Carvel, who thought the more of the latter -misdoing, though obliged to emphasize the former. The doctor would never -raise his hand against me. His study, where I recited my daily tasks, -was that small sunny room on the water side of the east wing; and I well -recall him as he sat behind his desk of a morning after prayers, his -horn spectacles perched on his high nose and his quill over his ear, -and his ink-powder and pewter stand beside him. His face would grow more -serious as I scanned my Virgil in a faltering voice, and as he descanted -on a passage my eye would wander out over the green trees and fields to -the glistening water. What cared I for “Arma virumque” at such a time? I -was watching Nebo a-fishing beyond the point, and as he waded ashore -the burden on his shoulders had a much keener interest for me than that -AEneas carried out of Troy. - -My Uncle Grafton came to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, choosing this -opportunity to become reconciled to my grandfather, who he feared had -not much longer to live. Albeit Mr. Carvel was as stout and hale as -ever. None of the mourners at the doctor's grave showed more sorrow than -did Grafton. A thousand remembrances of the good old man returned to -him, and I heard him telling Mr. Carroll and some other gentlemen, with -much emotion, how he had loved his reverend preceptor, from whom he had -learned nothing but what was good. “How fortunate are you, Richard,” - he once said, “to have had such a spiritual and intellectual teacher in -your youth. Would that Philip might have learned from such a one. And -I trust you can say, my lad, that you have made the best of your -advantages, though I fear you are of a wild nature, as your father was -before you.” And my uncle sighed and crossed his hands behind his back. -“'Tis perhaps better that poor John is in his grave,” he said. Grafton -had a word and a smile for every one about the old place, but little -else, being, as he said, but a younger son and a poor man. I was near -to forgetting the shilling he gave Scipio. 'Twas not so unostentatiously -done but that Mr. Carvel and I marked it. And afterwards I made Scipio -give me the coin, replacing it with another, and flung it as far into -the river as ever I could throw. - -As was but proper to show his sorrow at the death of the old chaplain he -had loved so much, Grafton came to the Hall drest entirely in black. He -would have had his lady and Philip, a lad near my own age, clad likewise -in sombre colours. But my Aunt Caroline would none of them, holding it -to be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks and -laces went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse, -and Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the family -travelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathed -in flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my aunt -descended like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth, -and kissed me effusively on both cheeks. - -“And this is dear Richard?” she cried. “Philip, come at once and greet -your cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels,” she continued volubly, -“but more resembles his mother, as I recall her.” - -“Indeed, madam,” my grandfather answered somewhat testily, “he has -the Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He has -Elizabeth's eyes.” - -But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and she -had already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. “The dear old -home?” she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regarding -lovingly each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly when -she came to the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, and -the Peter Lely over the broad fireplace. “What memories they must bring -to your mind, my dear,” she remarks to her husband. “'Tis cruel, as I -once said to dear papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafters -we loved so well as children.” And the good lady brushes away a tear -with her embroidered pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite of -us all. But she brightens instantly and smiles at the line of servants -drawn up to welcome them. “This is Scipio, my son, who was with your -grandfather when your father was born, and before.” Master Philip nods -graciously in response to Scipio's delighted bow. “And Harvey,” my -aunt rattles on. “Have you any new mares to surprise us with this year, -Harvey?” Harvey not being as overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescension -as was proper, she turns again to Mr. Carvel. - -“Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the old -house. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure.” And she takes off -her gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here and -another there, and drawing back for the effect. “Such a bachelor's hall -as you are keeping!” - -“We still have Willis, Caroline,” remonstrates my grandfather, gravely. -“I have no fault to find with her housekeeping.” - -“Of course not, father; men never notice,” Aunt Caroline replies in an -aggrieved tone. And when Willis herself comes in, auguring no good from -this visit, my aunt gives her the tips of her fingers. And I imagine I -see a spark fly between them. - -As for Grafton, he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones -between his father and himself. Aunt Caroline said with feeling that -Dr. Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought a -long-separated father and son together once more. Grafton had been -misjudged and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrel -had never been of his seeking,--a statement which Mr. Carvel was at no -pains to prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father's -every want. He read his Gazette to him of a Thursday, though the old -gentleman's eyes are as good as ever. If Mr. Carvel walks out of an -evening, Grafton's arm is ever ready, and my uncle and his worthy lady -are eager to take a hand at cards before supper. “Philip, my dear,” - says my aunt, “thy grandfather's slippers,” or, “Philip, my love, thy -grandfather's hat and cane.” But it is plain that Master Philip has not -been brought up to wait on his elders. He is curled with a novel in his -grandfather's easy chair by the window. “There is Dio, mamma, who has -naught to do but serve grandpapa,” says he, and gives a pull at the cord -over his head which rings the bell about the servants' ears in the hall -below. And Dio, the whites of his eyes showing, comes running into the -room. - -“It is nothing, Diomedes,” says Mr. Carvel. “Master Philip will fetch -what I need.”. Master Philip's papa and mamma stare at each other in -a surprise mingled with no little alarm, Master Philip being to all -appearances intent upon his book. - -“Philip,” says my grandfather, gently. I had more than once heard him -speak thus, and well knew what was coming. - -“Sir,” replies my cousin, without looking up. “Follow me, sir,” said Mr. -Carvel, in a voice so different that Philip drops his book. They went up -the stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination. -But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel my -grandfather said quietly: “I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline.” - And though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philip -another chance, he would never permit it. - -Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to his -grandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt had -poured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blue -and gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up. - -“Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerning -Richard's schooling?” - -“He shall go to King William's school in the autumn,” Mr. Carvel -replied. - -“In the autumn!” cried my uncle. “I do not give Philip even the short -holiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day.” - -“And can repeat the best passages,” my aunt chimes in. “Philip, my dear, -recite that one your father so delights in.” - -However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands, -he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enough -several lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parents -greatly and my grandfather not a little. - -“I will add a crown to your savings, Philip,” says his father. - -“And here is a pistole to spend as you will,” says Mr. Carvel, tossing -him the piece. - -“Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift,” says -Grafton, taking the pistole himself. “I will place this token of your -appreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain in -the family, sir.” And my uncle looks at me significantly. - -“Let it be as I say, Grafton,” persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to be -balked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to my -father. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his father -to add the first to his saving if he would. - -“And Richard must have his chance,” says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as -she rises to leave the room. - -“Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard,” says my uncle, smiling. “Let us -hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's.” - -My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly -the trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal to -my uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which -fitted the present case marvellously well. With little ceremony I tossed -back the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojans -against accepting the Grecian horse: - - “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.” - -“Egad,” cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, “the lad bath beaten you on -your own ground, Grafton.” And he laughed as my grandfather only could -laugh, until the dishes rattled on the table. But my uncle thought it no -matter for jesting. - -Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and could -discuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. He denounced -the seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easy -familiarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and 'twas easy to -perceive whence his knowledge sprang. But when my fine master spoke -disparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, my -grandfather's patience came to an end. - -“And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England, -Philip?” he asked. - -“Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies,” retorts -Master Philip, readily enough. - -“Not so,” Mr. Carvel said gravely. “She owes her greatness to her -merchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them. And commerce must -be at the backbone of every great nation. Tradesmen!” exclaimed my -grandfather. “Where would any of us be were it not for trade? We sell -our tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return. And your father -makes a deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of his -pittance.” - -My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued: -“I know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to lay -aside the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none.” - -“And 'twas well I learned then to be careful,” said my uncle, losing -for the instant his control, “for you loved the spend-thrift best, and I -should be but a beggar now without my wisdom.” - -“I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in him -which you lacked,” answered Mr. Carvel. - -Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatred -was conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shuddered -to think that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For he -detested me threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father and -mother with the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip's -with my grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelings -that he was smiling again instantly. To see once, however, the white -belly of the shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient. - -“I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father,” said Grafton. - -“God knows there was little jest in what I said,” replied Mr. Carvell -soberly, “and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day know -you well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old, -that I am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can become -white save by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip,” - the shrewd old gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, “do not let thy -father or any other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to every -question. I recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue, -despite what he says of your reading the public prints and of forming -your own opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthy -men and true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust method -of taxation.” - -Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harvey -in particular, who had come from England early in the century with my -grandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle, -the old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. “Beware -of him as has no use for horses, Master Richard,” he would say; for this -trait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. At -my uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster, -nor could he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence. -Harvey's face would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves as -he touched his cap. And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. He -vouchsafed but a curt reply to all her questions, nor did her raptures -over the stud soften him in the least. She would come tripping into the -stable yard, daintily holding up her skirts, and crying, “Oh, Harvey, -I have heard so much of Tanglefoot. I must see him before I go.” - Tanglefoot is led out begrudgingly enough, and Aunt Caroline goes over -his points, missing the greater part of them, and remarking on the depth -of chest, which is nothing notable in Tanglefoot. Harvey winks slyly -at me the while, and never so much as offers a word of correction. “You -must take Philip to ride, Richard, my dear,” says my aunt. “His father -was never as fond of it as I could have wished. I hold that every -gentleman should ride to hounds.” - -“Humph!” grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the house. - -“Master Philip to hunt, indeed! Foxes to hunt foxes!” And he gives vent -to a dry laugh over his joke, in which I cannot but join. “Horsemen -grows. Eh, Master Richard? There was Captain Jack, who jumped from the -cradle into the saddle, and I never once seen a horse get the better -o' him. And that's God's truth.” And he smooths out Tanglefoot's mane, -adding reflectively, “And you be just like him. But there was scarce a -horse in the stables what wouldn't lay back his ears at Mr. Grafton, and -small blame to 'em, say I. He never dared go near 'em. Oh, Master -Philip comes by it honestly enough. She thinks old Harvey don't know a -thoroughbred when he sees one, sir. But Mrs. Grafton's no thoroughbred; -I tell 'ee that, though I'm saying nothing as to her points, mark ye. -I've seen her sort in the old country, and I've seen 'em here, and it's -the same the world over, in Injy and Chiny, too. Fine trappings don't -make the horse, and they don't take thoroughbreds from a grocer's cart. -A Philadelphy grocer,” sniffs this old aristocrat. “I'd knowed her -father was a grocer had I seen her in Pall Mall with a Royal Highness, -by her gait, I may say. Thy mother was a thoroughbred, Master Richard, -and I'll tell 'ee another,” he goes on with a chuckle, “Mistress Dorothy -Manners is such another; you don't mistake 'em with their high heads -and patreeshan ways, though her father be one of them accidents as will -occur in every stock. She's one to tame, sir, and I don't envy no young -gentleman the task. But this I knows,” says Harvey, not heeding my red -cheeks, “that Master Philip, with all his satin small-clothes, will -never do it.” - -Indeed, it was no secret that my Aunt Caroline had been a Miss Flaven, -of Philadelphia, though she would have had the fashion of our province -to believe that she belonged to the Governor's set there; and she spoke -in terms of easy familiarity of the first families of her native city, -deceiving no one save herself, poor lady. How fondly do we believe, with -the ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked under -our wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs. -Grafton Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spices -and soap and glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertised -his cargoes in the public prints. He was a broad and charitable-minded -man enough, and unassuming, but gave way at last to the pressure brought -upon him by his wife and daughter, and bought a mansion in Front Street. -Terence Flaven never could be got to stay there save to sleep, and -preferred to spend his time in his shop, which was grown greatly, -chatting with his customers, and bowing the ladies to their chariots. -I need hardly say that this worthy man was on far better terms than -his family with those personages whose society they strove so hard to -attain. - -At the time of Miss Flaven's marriage to my uncle 'twas a piece of -gossip in every month that he had taken her for her dower, which was not -inconsiderable; though to hear Mr. and Mrs. Grafton talk they knew not -whence the next month's provender was to come. They went to live in Kent -County, as I have said, spending some winters in Philadelphia, where -Mr. Grafton was thought to have interests, though it never could be -discovered what his investments were. On hearing of his marriage, which -took place shortly before my father's, Mr. Carvel expressed neither -displeasure nor surprise. But he would not hear of my mother's request -to settle a portion upon his younger son. - -“He has the Kent estate, Bess,” said he, “which is by far too good for -him. Never doubt but that the rogue can feather his own nest far better -than can I, as indeed he hath already done. And by the Lord,” cried Mr. -Carvel, bringing his fist down upon the card-table where they sat, -“he shall never get another farthing of my money while I live, nor -afterwards, if I can help it! I would rather give it over to Mr. Carroll -to found a nunnery.” - -And so that matter ended, for Mr. Carvel could not be moved from a -purpose he had once made. Nor would he make any advances whatsoever to -Grafton, or receive those hints which my uncle was forever dropping, -until at length he begged to be allowed to come to Dr. Hilliard's -funeral, a request my grandfather could not in decency refuse. 'Twas a -pathetic letter in truth, and served its purpose well, though it was not -as dust in the old gentleman's eyes. He called me into his bedroom and -told me that my Uncle Grafton was coming at last. And seeing that I -said nothing thereto, he gave me a queer look and bade me treat them as -civilly as I knew how. “I well know thy temper, Richard,” said he, “and -I fear 'twill bring thee trouble enough in life. Try to control it, my -lad; take an old man's advice and try to control it.” He was in one of -his gentler moods, and passed his arm about me, and together we stood -looking silently through the square panes out into the rain, at the -ducks paddling in the puddles until the darkness hid them. - -And God knows, lad that I was, I tried to be civil to them. But my -tongue rebelled at the very sight of my uncle ['twas bred into me, I -suppose), and his fairest words seemed to me to contain a hidden sting. -Once, when he spoke in his innuendo of my father, I ran from the room to -restrain some act of violence; I know not what I should have done. And -Willis found me in the deserted, study of the doctor, where my hot tears -had stained the flowered paper on the wall. She did her best to calm -me, good soul, though she had her own troubles with my Lady Caroline to -think about at the time. - -I had one experience with Master Philip before our visitors betook -themselves back to Kent, which, unfortunate as it was, I cannot but -relate here. My cousin would enter into none of those rough amusements -in which I passed my time, for fear, I took it, of spoiling his fine -broadcloths or of losing a gold buckle. He never could be got to -wrestle, though I challenged him more than once. And he was a well-built -lad, and might, with a little practice, have become skilled in that -sport. He laughed at the homespun I wore about the farm, saying it -was no costume for a gentleman's son, and begged me sneeringly to don -leather breeches. He would have none of the company of those lads with -whom I found pleasure, young Harvey, and Willis's son, who was being -trained as Mr. Starkie's assistant. Nor indeed did I disdain to join in -a game with Hugo, who had been given to me, and other negro lads. Philip -saw no sport in a wrestle or a fight between two of the boys from the -quarters, and marvelled that I could lower myself to bet with Harvey the -younger. He took not a spark of interest in the gaming cocks we raised -together to compete at the local contests and at the fair, and knew -not a gaff from a cockspur. Being one day at my wits' end to amuse -my cousin, I proposed to him a game of quoits on the green beside the -spring-house, and thither we repaired, followed by Hugo, and young -Harvey come to look on. Master Philip, not casting as well as he might, -cries out suddenly to Hugo: “Begone, you black dog! What business have -you here watching a game between gentlemen?” - -“He is my servant, cousin,” I said quietly, “and no dog, if you please. -And he is under my orders, not yours.” - -But Philip, having scarcely scored a point, was in a rage. “And I'll -not have him here,” he shouted, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent him -stumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently: “Ever -since we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though my -father had no right in my grandfather's house.” - -Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, and -remark: “'Tis all up with Master Philip now.” But Philip, whatever else -he may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by the -time I had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I, -though not so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and many -more; having lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I was -able. To speak truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeing -that I could not knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and began -to study what I was doing. - -“Take off your macaroni coat,” said I. “I have no wish to ruin your -clothes.” - -But he only jeered in return: “Take off thy wool-sack.” And Hugo, -getting to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that he -had meant no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he swore -a round oath at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at my -stomach, whereat Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was more -skilful at the science of boxing than I, though I was the better -fighter, having, I am sorry to say, fought but too often before. And -presently, when I had closed one of his eyes, his skill went all to -pieces, and he made a mad rush at me. As he went by I struck him so hard -that he fell heavily and lay motionless. - -Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent over -my cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and rejoiced -to find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. By -then, Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house, -and I saw my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as her -tight stays would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dear -Philip. And after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with all -the servants who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at the -thought that I should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she knelt -over Philip, pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousin -opened one of his eyes, and raised his hand to his head. - -“Thank Heaven he is not killed!” exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently. - -“Thank God, indeed!” echoes my uncle, and gives me a look as much as to -say that I am not to be thanked for it. “I have often warned you, sir,” - he says to Mr. Carvel, “that we do not inherit from stocks and stones. -And so much has come of our charity.” - -I knew, lad that I was; that he spoke of my mother; and my blood boiled -within me. - -“Have a care, sir, with your veiled insults,” I cried, “or I will serve -you as I have served your son.” - -Grafton threw up his hands. - -“What have we harboured, father?” says he. But Mr. Carvel seized him by -the shoulder. “Peace, Grafton, before the servants,” he said, “and cease -thy crying, Caroline. The lad is not hurt.” And being a tall man, six -feet in his stockings, and strong despite his age, he raised Philip from -the grass, and sternly bade him walk to the house, which he did, leaning -on his mother's arm. “As for you, Richard,” my grandfather went on, “you -will go into my study.” - -Into his study I went, where presently he came also, and I told him -the affair in as few words as I might. And he, knowing my hatred of -falsehood, questioned me not at all, but paced to and fro, I following -him with my eyes, and truly sorry that I had given him pain. And finally -he dismissed me, bidding me make it up with my cousin, which I was -nothing loth to do. What he said to Philip and his father I know not. -That evening we shook hands, though Philip's face was much swollen, and -my uncle smiled, and was even pleasanter than before, saying that boys -would be boys. But I think my Aunt Caroline could never wholly hide the -malice she bore me for what I had done that day. - -When at last the visitors were gone, every face on the plantation wore -a brighter look. Harvey said: “God bless their backs, which is the only -part I ever care to see of their honours.” And Willis gave us a supper -fit for a king. Mr. Lloyd and his lady were with us, and Mr. Carvel told -his old stories of the time of the First George, many of which I can -even now repeat: how he and two other collegians fought half a dozen -Mohocks in Norfolk Street, and fairly beat them; and how he discovered -by chance a Jacobite refugee in Greenwich, and what came of it; nor did -he forget that oft-told episode with Dean Swift. And these he rehearsed -in such merry spirit and new guise that we scarce recognized them, and -Colonel Lloyd so choked with laughter that more than once he had to be -hit between the shoulders. - - - - -CHAPTER V. “IF LADIES BE BUT YOUNG AND FAIR” - -No boyhood could have been happier than mine, and throughout it, ever -present with me, were a shadow and a light. The shadow was my Uncle -Grafton. I know not what strange intuition of the child made me think -of him so constantly after that visit he paid us, but often I would wake -from my sleep with his name upon my lips, and a dread at my heart. The -light--need I say?--was Miss Dorothy Manners. Little Miss Dolly was -often at the Hall after that happy week we spent together; and her -home, Wilmot House, was scarce three miles across wood and field by our -plantation roads. I was a stout little fellow enough, and before I was -twelve I had learned to follow to hounds my grandfather's guests on my -pony; and Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Carvel when they shot on the duck points. -Ay, and what may surprise you, my dears, I was given a weak little -toddy off the noggin at night, while the gentlemen stretched their limbs -before the fire, or played at whist or loo Mr. Carvel would have no -milksop, so he said. But he early impressed upon me that moderation was -the mark of a true man, even as excess was that of a weak one. - -And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House -alone. There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at -games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark -by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom. About once in the week Mr. and Mrs. -Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall. She grew -quickly--so quickly that I scarce realized--into a tall slip of a girl, -who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or impudent, -in a breath. She had as many moods as the sea. I have heard her -entertain Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, -by the hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all -the same. Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho' -she gave me no reason whatever. I believe I had held my hand over fire -for her, at a word. And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me -wonder, now, that I was not killed. It used to please her, Ivie too, to -see me go the round of the windmill, tho' she would cry out after I left -the ground. And once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie -not there to prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown -at the bottom with such force that I lay stunned for a full minute. I -opened my eyes to find her bending over me with such a look of fright -and remorse upon her face as I shall never forget. Again, walking out on -the bowsprit of the 'Oriole' while she stood watching me from the dock, -I lost my balance and fell into the water. On another occasion I fought -Will Fotheringay, whose parents had come for a visit, because he dared -say he would marry her. - -“She is to marry an earl,” I cried, tho' I had thrashed another lad for -saying so. “Mr. Manners is to take her home when she is grown, to marry -her to an earl.” - -“At least she will not marry you, Master Richard,” sneered Will. And -then I hit him. - -Indeed, even at that early day the girl's beauty was enough to make her -talked about. And that foolish little fop, her father, had more than -once declared before a company in our dining room that it was high time -another title came into his family, and that he meant to take Dolly -abroad when she was sixteen. Lad that I was, I would mark with pain the -blush on Mrs. Manners's cheek, and clinch my fists as she tried to pass -this off as a joke of her husband's. But Dolly, who sat next me at a -side table, would make a wry little face at my angry one. - -“You shall call me 'my lady,' Richard. And sometimes, if you are good, -you shall ride inside my coroneted coach when you come home.” - -Ah, that was the worst of it! The vixen was conscious of her beauty. But -her airs were so natural that young and old bowed before her. Nothing -but worship had she had from the cradle. I would that Mr. Peale had -painted her in her girlhood as a type of our Maryland lady of quality. -Harvey was right when he called her a thoroughbred. Her nose was -of patrician straightness, and the curves of her mouth came from -generations of proud ancestors. And she had blue eyes to conquer and -subdue; with long lashes to hide them under when she chose, and black -hair with blue gloss upon it in the slanting lights. I believe I loved -her best in the riding-habit that was the colour of the red holly in our -Maryland woods. At Christmas-tide, when we came to the eastern shore, we -would gallop together through miles of country, the farmers and servants -tipping and staring after her as she laid her silver-handled whip upon -her pony. She knew not the meaning of fear, and would take a fence or a -ditch that a man might pause at. And so I fell into the habit of leading -her the easy way round, for dread that she would be hurt. - -How those Christmas times of childhood come sweeping back on my memory! -Often, and without warning, my grandfather would say to me: “Richard, -we shall celebrate at the Hall this year.” And it rarely turned out that -arrangements had not been made with the Lloyds and the Bordleys and the -Manners, and other neighbours, to go to the country for the holidays. I -have no occasion in these pages to mention my intimacy with the sons and -daughters of those good friends of the Carvels', Colonel Lloyd and Mr. -Bordley. Some of them are dead now, and the rest can thank God and -look back upon worthy and useful lives. And if any of these, my old -playmates, could read this manuscript, perchance they might feel a -tingle of recollection of Children's Day, when Maryland was a province. -We rarely had snow; sometimes a crust upon the ground that was melted -into paste by the noonday sun, but more frequently, so it seems to me, a -foggy, drizzly Christmas, with the fires crackling in saloon and lady's -chamber. And when my grandfather and the ladies and gentlemen, his -guests, came down the curving stairs, there were the broadly smiling -servants drawn up in the wide hall,--all who could gather there,--and -the rest on the lawn outside, to wish “Merry Chris'mas” to “de quality.” - The redemptioners in front, headed by Ivie and Jonas Tree, tho' they had -long served their terms, and with them old Harvey and his son; next the -house blacks and the outside liveries, and then the oldest slaves from -the quarters. This line reached the door, which Scipio would throw open -at “de quality's” appearance, disclosing the rest of the field servants, -in bright-coloured gowns, and the little negroes on the green. Then Mr. -Carvel would make them a little speech of thanks and of good-will, -and white-haired Johnson of the senior quarters, who had been with my -great-grandfather, would start the carol in a quaver. How clear and -sweet the melody of those negro voices comes back to me through -the generations! And the picture of the hall, loaded with holly and -mistletoe even to the great arch that spanned it, with the generous -bowls of egg-nog and punch on the mahogany by the wall! And the ladies -our guests, in cap and apron, joining in the swelling hymn; ay, and the -men, too. And then, after the breakfast of sweet ham and venison, and -hot bread and sausage, made under Mrs. Willis, and tea and coffee and -chocolate steaming in the silver, and ale for the gentlemen if they -preferred, came the prayers and more carols in the big drawing-room. -And then music in the big house, or perhaps a ride afield to greet the -neighbours, and fiddling and dancing in the two big quarters, Hank's and -Johnson's, when the tables were cleared after the bountiful feast Mr. -Carvel was wont to give them. There was no stint, my dears,--naught but -good cheer and praising God in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall. - -At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes -at Colonel Lloyd's or Mr. Bordley's, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for -my grandfather dearly loved the company of the young. He himself would -lead off the minuet,--save when once or twice his Excellency Governor -Sharpe chanced to be present,--and would draw his sword with the young -gallants that the ladies might pass under. And I have seen him join -merrily in the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the -company. That was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor. We sat -with the other children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery -with the tiny rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour -of the green myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and -perfume of the dancers. And when the beauty of the evening was led -out, Dolly would lean over the rail, and pout and smile by turns. The -mischievous little baggage could hardly wait for the conquering years to -come. - -They came soon enough, alack! The season Dorothy was fourteen, we had a -ball at the Hall the last day of the year. When she was that age she had -near arrived at her growth, and was full as tall as many young ladies -of twenty. I had cantered with her that morning from Wilmot House to Mr. -Lloyd's, and thence to Carvel Hall, where she was to stay to dinner. The -sun was shining warmly, and after young Harvey had taken our horses we -strayed through the house, where the servants were busy decorating, and -out into my grandfather's old English flower garden, and took the seat -by the sundial. I remember that it gave no shadow. We sat silent for -a while, Dorothy toying with old Knipe, lying at our feet, and humming -gayly the burden of a minuet. She had been flighty on the ride, with -scarce a word to say to me, for the prospect of the dance had gone to -her head. - -“Have you a new suit to wear to-night, to see the New Year in, Master -Sober?” she asked presently, looking up. “I am to wear a brocade that -came out this autumn from London, and papa says I look like a duchess -when I have my grandmother's pearls.” - -“Always the ball!” cried I, slapping my boots in a temper. “Is it, then, -such a matter of importance? I am sure you have danced before--at my -birthdays in Marlboro' Street and at your own, and Will Fotheringay's, -and I know not how many others.” - -“Of course,” replies Dolly, sweetly; “but never with a real man. Boys -like you and Will and the Lloyds do not count. Dr. Courtenay is at -Wilmot House, and is coming to-night; and he has asked me out. Think of -it, Richard! Dr. Courtenay!” - -“A plague upon him! He is a fop!” - -“A fop!” exclaimed Dolly, her humour bettering as mine went down. “Oh, -no; you are jealous. He is more sought after than any gentleman at the -assemblies, and Miss Dulany vows his steps are ravishing. There's for -you, my lad! He may not be able to keep pace with you in the chase, but -he has writ the most delicate verses ever printed in Maryland, and no -other man in the colony can turn a compliment with his grace. Shall I -tell you more? He sat with me for over an hour last night, until mamma -sent me off to bed, and was very angry at you because I had engaged to -ride with you to-day.” - -“And I suppose you wish you had stayed with him,” I flung back, -hotly. “He had spun you a score of fine speeches and a hundred empty -compliments by now.” - -“He had been better company than you, sir,” she laughed provokingly. -“I never heard you turn a compliment in your life, and you are now -seventeen. What headway do you expect to make at the assemblies?” - -“None,” I answered, rather sadly than otherwise. For she had touched me -upon a sore spot. “But if I cannot win a woman save by compliments,” I -added, flaring up, “then may I pay a bachelor's tax!” - -My lady drew her whip across my knee. - -“You must tell us we are beautiful, Richard,” said she, in another tone. - -“You have but to look in a pier-glass,” I retorted. “And, besides, that -is not sufficient. You will want some rhyming couplet out of a mythology -before you are content.” - -She laughed again. - -“Sir,” answered she, “but you have wit, if you can but be got angry.” - -She leaned over the dial's face, and began to draw the Latin numerals -with her finger. So arch, withal, that I forgot my ill-humour. - -“If you would but agree to stay angry for a day,” she went on, in a low -tone, “perhaps--” - -“Perhaps?” - -“Perhaps you would be better company,” said Dorothy. “You would surely -be more entertaining.” - -“Dorothy, I love you,” I said. - -“To be sure. I know that,” she replied. “I think you have said that -before.” - -I admitted it sadly. “But I should be a better husband than Dr. -Courtenay.” - -“La!” cried she; “I am not thinking of husbands. I shall have a good -time, sir, I promise you, before I marry. And then I should never marry -you. You are much too rough, and too masterful. And you would require -obedience. I shall never obey any man. You would be too strict a master, -sir. I can see it with your dogs and your servants. And your friends, -too. For you thrash any boy who does not agree with you. I want no rough -squire for a husband. And then, you are a Whig. I could never marry -a Whig. You behaved disgracefully at King William's School last year. -Don't deny it!” - -“Deny it!” I cried warmly; “I would as soon deny that you are an arrant -flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one.” - -“Yes, I shall have my fling,” said the minx. “I shall begin to-night, -with you for an audience. I shall make the doctor look to himself. But -there is the dressing-bell.” And as we went into the house, “I believe -my mother is a Whig, Richard. All the Brices are.” - -“And yet you are a Tory?” - -“I am a loyalist,” says my lady, tossing her head proudly; “and we are -one day to kiss her Majesty's hand, and tell her so. And if I were the -Queen,” she finished in a flash, “I would teach you surly gentlemen not -to meddle.” - -And she swept up the stairs so stately, that Scipio was moved to say -slyly: “Dem's de kind of ladies, Marse Richard, I jes dotes t' wait on!” - -Of the affair at King William's School I shall tell later. - -We had some dozen guests staying at the Hall for the ball. At dinner my -grandfather and the gentlemen twitted her, and laughed heartily at her -apt retorts, and even toasted her when she was gone. The ladies shook -their heads and nudged one another, and no doubt each of the mothers -had her notion of what she would do in Mrs. Manners's place. But when my -lady came down dressed for the ball in her pink brocade with the pearls -around her neck, fresh from the hands of Nester and those of her own -tremulous mammy, Mr. Carvel must needs go up to her and hold her at -arm's length in admiration, and then kiss her on both her cheeks. -Whereat she blushed right prettily. - -“Bless me!” says he; “and can this be Richard's little playmate grown? -Upon my word, Miss Dolly, you'll be the belle of the ball. Eh, Lloyd? -Bless me, bless me, you must not mind a kiss from an old man. The young -ones may have their turn after a while.” He laughed as my grandfather -only could laugh, and turned to me, who had reddened to my forehead. -“And so, Richard, she has outstripped you, fair and square. You are only -an awkward lad, and she--why, i' faith, in two years she'll be beyond -my protection. Come, Miss Dolly,” says he; “I'll show you the mistletoe, -that you may beware of it.” - -And he led her off on his arm. “The old year and the new, gentlemen!” - he cried merrily, as he passed the door, with Dolly's mammy and Nester -simpering with pride on the landing. - -The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that -they were to stay the night. Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a -pillion behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress. -Mr. Bordley and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in -coach and four. With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured -coat and waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, -and pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes. How I envied him as he -descended the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with -the indifferent ease that was then the fashion. I fancied I saw his eyes -wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I -stood disconsolate before the fireplace. - -“Why, Richard, my lad,” says he, “you are quite grown since I saw you. -And the little girl that was your playmate,--Miss Dolly, I mean,--has -outstripped me, egad. She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like -a rose that blooms in a night.” - -I answered nothing at all. But I had given much to know whether my -stolid manner disconcerted him. Unconsciously I sought the bluff face -above the chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King -Charles's day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side. Dr. -Courtenay certainly caught the look. He opened his snuff-box, took a -pinch, turned on his heel, and sauntered off. - -“What did you say, Richard?” asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing, -for he had seen the incident. - -“I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing.” - -“Faith, 'twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I -think,” answered my friend. But he teased me a deal that night when -Dolly danced with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my -honours. My young lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a -minuet as well as any dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at -the thought of the prize slipping from my grasp. Now and then, in the -midst of a figure, she would shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say -that her pinions were strong now. But when it came to the country dances -my lady comes up to me ever so prettily and asks the favour. - -“Tis a monstrous state, indeed, when I have to beg you for a reel!” says -she. - -And so was I made happy. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. I FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE - -In the eighteenth century the march of public events was much more -eagerly followed than now by men and women of all stations, and even -children. Each citizen was ready, nay, forward, in taking an active part -in all political movements, and the children mimicked their elders. Old -William Farris read his news of a morning before he began the mending of -his watches, and by evening had so well digested them that he was primed -for discussion with Pryse, of the opposite persuasion, at the Rose and -Crown. Sol Mogg, the sexton of St. Anne's, had his beloved Gazette in -his pocket as he tolled the church bell of a Thursday, and would hold -forth on the rights and liberties of man with the carpenter who mended -the steeple. Mrs. Willard could talk of Grenville and Townshend as -knowingly as her husband, the rich factor, and Francie Willard made many -a speech to us younger Sons of Liberty on the steps of King William's -School. We younger sons, indeed, declared bitter war against the -mother-country long before our conservative old province ever dreamed of -secession. For Maryland was well pleased with his Lordship's government. - -I fear that I got at King William's School learning of a far different -sort than pleased my grandfather. In those days the school stood upon -the Stadt House hill near School Street, not having moved to its present -larger quarters. Mr. Isaac Daaken was then Master, and had under him -some eighty scholars. After all these years, Mr. Daaken stands before me -a prominent figure of the past in an ill-fitting suit of snuff colour. -How well I recall that schoolroom of a bright morning, the sun's rays -shot hither and thither, and split violet, green, and red by the bulging -glass panes of the windows. And by a strange irony it so chanced that -where the dominie sat--and he moved not the whole morning long save to -reach for his birches--the crimson ray would often rest on the end of -his long nose, and the word “rum” be passed tittering along the benches. -For some men are born to the mill, and others to the mitre, and still -others to the sceptre; but Mr. Daaken was born to the birch. His long, -lanky legs were made for striding after culprits, and his arms for -caning them. He taught, among other things, the classics, of course, -the English language grammatically, arithmetic in all its branches, -book-keeping in the Italian manner, and the elements of algebra, -geometry, and trigonometry with their applications to surveying and -navigation. He also wrote various sorts of hands, fearful and marvellous -to the uninitiated, with which he was wont to decorate my monthly -reports to my grandfather. I can shut my eyes and see now that wonderful -hyperbola in the C in Carvel, which, after travelling around the paper, -ended in intricate curves and a flourish which surely must have broken -the quill. - -The last day of every month would I fetch that scrolled note to Mr. -Carvel, and he laid it beside his plate until dinner was over. And then, -as sure as the sun rose that morning, my flogging would come before it -set. This done with, and another promised next month provided Mr. -Daaken wrote no better of me, my grandfather and I renewed our customary -footing of love and companionship. - -But Mr. Daaken, unwittingly or designedly, taught other things than -those I have mentioned above. And though I never once heard a word of -politics fall from his lips, his school shortly became known to all good -Tories as a nursery of conspiracy and sedition. There are other ways of -teaching besides preaching, and of that which the dominie taught best he -spoke not a word. He was credited, you may well believe, with calumnies -against King George, and once my Uncle Grafton and Mr. Dulany were for -clapping him in jail, avowing that he taught treason to the young. I can -account for the tone of King William's School in no other way than to -say that patriotism was in the very atmosphere, and seemed to exude -in some mysterious way from Mr. Daaken's person. And most of us became -infected with it. - -The dominie lived outside the town, in a lonely little hamlet on the -borders of the Spa. At two of the clock every afternoon he would dive -through School Street to the Coffee House, where the hostler would have -his bony mare saddled and waiting. Mr. Daaken by no chance ever entered -the tavern. I recall one bright day in April when I played truant and -had the temerity to go afishing on Spa Creek with Will Fotheringay, the -bass being plentiful there. We had royal sport of it that morning, and -two o'clock came and went with never a thought, you may be sure. And -presently I get a pull which bends my English rod near to double, and -in my excitement plunge waist deep into the water, Will crying out -directions from the shore, when suddenly the head of Mr. Daaken's mare -is thrust through the bushes, followed by Mr. Daaken himself. Will stood -stock still from fright, and I was for dropping my rod and cutting, when -I was arrested by the dominie calling out: - -“Have a care, Master Carvel; have a care, sir. You will lose him. Play -him, sir; let him run a bit.” - -And down he leaps from his horse and into the water after me, -and together we landed a three-pound bass, thereby drenching his -snuff-coloured suit. When the big fish lay shining in the basket, the -dominie smiled grimly at William and me as we stood sheepishly by, and -without a word he drew his clasp knife and cut a stout switch from -the willow near, and then and there he gave us such a thrashing as we -remembered for many a day after. And we both had another when we reached -home. - -“Mr. Carvel,” said Mr. Dulany to my grandfather, “I would strongly -counsel you to take Richard from that school. Pernicious doctrines, sir, -are in the air, and like diseases are early caught by the young. 'Twas -but yesterday I saw Richard at the head of a rabble of the sons of -riff-raff, in Green Street, and their treatment of Mr. Fairbrother hath -set the whole town by the ears.” - -What Mr. Dulany had said was true. The lads of Mr. Fairbrother's school -being mostly of the unpopular party, we of King William's had organized -our cohorts and led them on to a signal victory. We fell upon the enemy -even as they were emerging from their stronghold, the schoolhouse, and -smote them hip and thigh, with the sheriff of Anne Arundel County a -laughing spectator. Some of the Tories (for such we were pleased to call -them) took refuge behind Mr. Fairbrother's skirts, who shook his cane -angrily enough, but without avail. Others of the Tory brood fought -stoutly, calling out: “God save the King!” and “Down with the traitors!” - On our side Francie Willard fell, and Archie Dennison raised a lump on -my head the size of a goose egg. But we fairly beat them, and afterwards -must needs attack the Tory dominie himself. He cried out lustily to the -sheriff and spectators, of whom there were many by this time, for help, -but got little but laughter for his effort. Young Lloyd and I, being -large lads for our age, fairly pinioned the screeching master, who -cried out that he was being murdered, and keeping his cane for a trophy, -thrust him bodily into his house of learning, turned the great key -upon him, and so left him. He made his escape by a window and sought -my grandfather in the Duke of Marlboro' Street as fast as ever his -indignant legs would carry him. - -Of his interview with Mr. Carvel I know nothing save that Scipio was -requested presently to show him the door, and conclude therefrom that -his language was but ill-chosen. Scipio's patrician blood was wont to -rise in the presence of those whom he deemed outside the pale of good -society, and I fear he ushered Mr. Fairbrother to the street with -little of that superior manner he used to the first families. As for Mr. -Daaken, I feel sure he was not ill-pleased at the discomfiture of his -rival, though it cost him five of his scholars. - -Our schoolboy battle, though lightly undertaken, was fraught with -no inconsiderable consequences for me. I was duly chided and soundly -whipped by my grandfather for the part I had played; but he was inclined -to pass the matter after that, and set it down to the desire for -fighting common to most boyish natures. And he would have gone no -farther than this had it not been that Mr. Green, of the Maryland -Gazette, could not refrain from printing the story in his paper. That -gentleman, being a stout Whig, took great delight in pointing out that -a grandson of Mr. Carvel was a ringleader in the affair. The story was -indeed laughable enough, and many a barrister's wig nodded over it at -the Coffee House that day. When I came home from school I found Scipio -beside my grandfather's empty seat in the dining-room, and I learned -that Mr. Carvel was in the garden with my Uncle Grafton and the Reverend -Bennett Allen, rector of St. Anne's. I well knew that something out of -the common was in the wind to disturb my grandfather's dinner. Into -the garden I went, and under the black walnut tree I beheld Mr. Carvel -pacing up and down in great unrest, his Gazette in his hand, while on -the bench sat my uncle and the rector of St. Anne's. So occupied was -each in his own thought that my coming was unperceived; and I paused in -my steps, seized suddenly by an instinctive dread, I know not of what. -The fear of Mr. Carvel's displeasure passed from my mind so that I cared -not how soundly he thrashed me, and my heart filled with a yearning, -born of the instant, for that simple and brave old gentleman. For the -lad is nearer to nature than the man, and the animal oft scents a danger -the master cannot see. I read plainly in Mr. Allen's handsome face, -flushed red with wine as it ever was, and in my Uncle Grafton's looks -a snare to which I knew my grandfather was blind. I never rightly -understood how it was that Mr. Carvel was deceived in Mr. Allen; -perchance the secret lay in his bold manner and in the appearance of -dignity and piety he wore as a cloak when on his guard. I caught my -breath sharply and took my way toward them, resolved to make as brave a -front as I might. It was my uncle, whose ear was ever open, that first -heard my footstep and turned upon me. - -“Here is Richard, now, father,” he said. - -I gave him so square a look that he bent his head to the ground. My -grandfather stopped in his pacing and his eye rested upon me, in sorrow -rather than in anger, I thought. - -“Richard,” he began, and paused. For the first time in my life I saw him -irresolute. He looked appealingly at the rector, who rose. Mr. Allen -was a man of good height and broad shoulders, with piercing black eyes, -reminding one more of the smallsword than aught else I can think of. And -he spoke solemnly, in a deep voice, as though from the pulpit. - -“I fear it is my duty, Richard, to say what Mr. Carvel cannot. It -grieves me to tell you, sir, that young as you are you have been guilty -of treason against the King, and of grave offence against his Lordship's -government. I cannot mitigate my words, sir. By your rashness, Richard, -and I pray it is such, you have brought grief to your grandfather in his -age, and ridicule and reproach upon a family whose loyalty has hitherto -been unstained.” - -I scarce waited for him to finish. His pompous words stung me like the -lash of a whip, and I gave no heed to his cloth as I answered: - -“If I have grieved my grandfather, sir, I am heartily sorry, and will -answer to him for what I have done. And I would have you know, Mr. -Allen, that I am as able as any to care for the Carvel honour.” - -I spoke with a vehemence, for the thought carried me beyond myself, -that this upstart parson his Lordship had but a year since sent among us -should question our family reputation. - -“Remember that Mr. Allen is of the Church, Richard,” said my -grandfather, severely. - -“I fear he has little respect for Church or State, sir,” Grafton put in. -“You are now reaping the fruits of your indulgence.” - -I turned to my grandfather. - -“You are my protector, sir,” I cried. “And if it please you to tell -me what I now stand accused of, I submit most dutifully to your -chastisement.” - -“Very fair words, indeed, nephew Richard,” said my uncle, “and I -draw from them that you have yet to hear of your beating an honest -schoolmaster without other provocation than that he was a loyal servant -to the King, and wantonly injuring the children of his school.” He drew -from his pocket a copy of that Gazette Mr. Carvel held in his hand, and -added ironically: “Here, then, are news which will doubtless surprise -you, sir. And knowing you for a peaceful lad, never having entertained -such heresies as those with which it pleases Mr. Green to credit you, I -dare swear he has drawn on his imagination.” - -I took the paper in amaze, not knowing why my grandfather, who had ever -been so jealous of others taking me to task, should permit the rector -and my uncle to chide me in his presence. The account was in the main -true enough, and made sad sport of Mr. Fairbrother. - -“Have I not been caned for this, sir?” said I to my grandfather. - -These words seemed to touch Mr. Carvel, and I saw a tear glisten in his -eye as he answered: - -“You have, Richard, and stoutly. But your uncle and Mr. Allen seem to -think that your offence warrants more than a caning, and to deem that -you have been actuated by bad principles rather than by boyish spirits.” - He paused to steady his voice, and I realized then for the first time -how sacred he held allegiance to the King. “Tell me, my lad,” said he, -“tell me, as you love God and the truth, whether they are right.” - -For the moment I shrank from speaking, perceiving what a sad blow to -Mr. Carvel my words must be. And then I spoke up boldly, catching -the exulting sneer on my Uncle Grafton's face and the note of triumph -reflected in Mr. Allen's. - -“I have never deceived you, sir,” I said, “and will not now hide from -you that I believe the colonies to have a just cause against his Majesty -and Parliament.” The words came ready to my lips: “We are none the less -Englishmen because we claim the rights of Englishmen, and, saving your -presence, sir, are as loyal as those who do not. And if these principles -be bad,” I added to my uncle, “then should we think with shame upon the -Magna Charta.” - -My grandfather stood astonished at such a speech from me, whom he had -thought a lad yet without a formed knowledge of public affairs. But I -was, in fact, supersaturated with that of which I spoke, and could -have given my hearers many able Whig arguments to surprise them had the -season befitted. There was silence for a space after I had finished, and -then Mr. Carvel sank right heavily upon the bench. - -“A Carvel against the King!” was all he said. - -Had I been alone with him I should have cast myself at his feet, for it -hurt me sorely to see him so. As it was, I held my head high. - -“The Carvels ever did what they believed right, sir,” I answered. “You -would not have me to go against my conscience?” - -To this he replied nothing. - -“The evil has been done, as I feared, father,” said Grafton, presently; -“we must now seek for the remedy.” - -“Let me question the lad,” Mr. Allen softly interposed. “Tell me, -Richard, who has influenced you to this way of thinking?” - -I saw his ruse, and was not to be duped by it. - -“Men who have not feared to act bravely against oppression, sir,” I -said. - -“Thank God,” exclaimed my uncle, with fervour, “that I have been more -careful of Philip's associations, and that he has not caught in the -streets and taverns this noxious creed!” - -“There is no danger from Philip; he remembers his family name,” said the -rector. - -“No,” quoth Mr. Carvel, bitterly, “there is no danger from Philip. Like -his father, he will ever believe that which best serves him.” - -Grafton, needless to say, did not pursue such an argument, but rising, -remarked that this deplorable affair had kept him long past his dinner -hour, and that his services were as ever at his father's disposal. He -refused to stay, though my grandfather pressed him of course, and with a -low bow of filial respect and duty and a single glance at the rector, -my uncle was gone. And then we walked slowly to the house and into the -dining room, Mr. Carvel leading the procession, and I an unwilling -rear, knowing that my fate would be decided between them. I thought Mr. -Allen's grace would never end, and the meal likewise; I ate but little, -while the two gentlemen discussed parish matters. And when at last -Scipio had retired, and the rector of St. Anne's sat sipping the old -Madeira, his countenance all gravity, but with a relish he could not -hide, my grandfather spoke up. And though he addressed himself to the -guest, I knew full well what he said was meant for me. - -“As you see, sir,” said he, “I am sore perplexed and troubled. We -Carvels, Mr. Allen, have ever been stanch to Church and King. My -great-grandsire fought at Naseby and Marston Moor for Charles, and -suffered exile in his name. 'Twas love for King James that sent my -father hither, though he swore allegiance to Anne and the First George. -I can say with pride that he was no indifferent servant to either, -refusing honours from the Pretender in '15, when he chanced to be at -home. An oath is an oath, sir, and we have yet to be false to ours. And -the King, say I, should, next to God, be loved and loyally served by his -subjects. And so I have served this George, and his grandfather before -him, according to the talents which were given me.” - -“And ably, sir, permit me to say,” echoed the rector, heartily. Too -heartily, methought. And he carefully filled his pipe with choice leaf -out of Mr. Carvel's inlaid box. - -“Be that as it may, I have done my best, as we must all do. Pardon -me, sir, for speaking of myself. But I have brought up this lad from a -child, Mr. Allen,” said Mr. Carvel, his words coming slowly, as if each -gave him pain, “and have striven to be an example to him in all things. -He has few of those faults which I most fear; God be thanked that he -loves the truth, for there is yet a chance of his correction. A chance, -said I?” he cried, his speech coming more rapid, “nay, he shall be -cured! I little thought, fool that I was, that he would get this pox. -His father fought and died for the King; and should trouble come, which -God forbid, to know that Richard stood against his Majesty would kill -me.” - -“And well it might, Mr. Carvel,” said the divine. He was for the -moment sobered, as weak men must be in the presence of those of strong -convictions. My grandfather had half risen in his chair, and the lines -of his smooth-shaven face deepened visibly with the pain of the feelings -to which he gave utterance. As for me, I was well-nigh swept away by a -bigness within me, and torn between love and duty, between pity and the -reason left me, and sadly tried to know whether my dear parent's life -and happiness should be weighed against what I felt to be right. I -strove to speak, but could say nothing. - -“He must be removed from the influences,” the rector ventured, after a -halt. - -“That he must indeed,” said my grandfather. “Why did I not send him to -Eton last fall? But it is hard, Mr. Allen, to part with the child of our -old age. I would take passage and go myself with him to-morrow were it -not for my duties in the Council.” - -“Eton! I would have sooner, I believe, wrought by the side of any -rascally redemptioner in the iron mines of the Patapsco than have gone -to Eton. - -“But for the present, sir, I would counsel you to put the lad's studies -in the charge of some able and learned man, that his mind may be turned -from the disease which has fed upon it. Some one whose loyalty is beyond -question.” - -“And who so fit as yourself, Mr. Allen?” returned my grandfather, relief -plain in his voice. “You have his Lordship's friendship and confidence, -and never has rector of St. Anne's or of any other parish brought -letters to his Excellency to compare with yours. And so I crave your -help in this time of need.” - -Mr. Allen showed becoming hesitation. - -“I fear you do me greater honour than I deserve, Mr. Carvel,” he -answered, a strain of the pomp coming back, “though my gracious patron -is disposed to think well of me, and I shall strive to hold his good -opinion. But I have duties of parish and glebe to attend, and Master -Philip Carvel likewise in my charge.” - -I held my breath for my grandfather's reply. The rector, however, had -read him, and well knew that a show of reluctance would but inflame him -the more. - -“How now, sir?” he exclaimed. “Surely, as you love the King, you will -not refuse me in this strait.” - -Mr. Allen rose and grasped him by the hand. - -“Nay, sir,” said he, “and you put it thus, I cannot refuse you.” - -The thought of it was too much. I ran to my grandfather crying: “Not -Mr. Allen, sir, not Mr. Allen. Any one else you please,--Mr. Fairbrother -even.” - -The rector drew back haughtily. “It is clear, Mr. Carvel,” he said, -“that Richard has other preferences.” - -“And be damned to them!” shouted my grandfather. “Am I to be ruled by -this headstrong boy? He has beat Mr. Fairbrother, and shall have no -skimmed-milk supervision if I can help it.” - -And so it was settled that I should be tutored by the rector of St. -Anne's, and I took my seat beside my cousin Philip in his study the very -next day. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE - -To add to my troubles my grandfather was shortly taken very ill with the -first severe sickness he had ever in his life endured. Dr. Leiden came -and went sometimes thrice daily, and for a week he bore a look so grave -as to frighten me. Dr. Evarts arrived by horse from Philadelphia, and -the two physicians held long conversations in the morning room, while I -listened at the door and comprehended not a word of their talk save when -they spoke of bleeding. And after a very few consultations, as is often -the way in their profession, they disagreed and quarrelled, and Dr. -Evarts packed himself back to Philadelphia in high dudgeon. Then Mr. -Carvel began to mend. - -There were many who came regularly to inquire of him, and each afternoon -I would see the broad shoulders and genial face of Governor Sharpe in -the gateway, completing his walk by way of Marlboro' Street. I loved and -admired him, for he had been a soldier himself before he came out to us, -and had known and esteemed my father. His Excellency should surely have -been knighted for his services in the French war. Once he spied me at -the window and shook his cane pleasantly, and in he walks to the room -where I sat reading of the victories of Blenheim and Malplaquet, for -chronicles of this sort I delighted in. - -“Aha, Richard,” says he, taking up the book, “'tis plain whither your -tastes lead you. Marlboro was a great general, and as sorry a scoundrel -as ever led troops to battle. Truly,” says he, musing, “the Lord often -makes queer choice in his instruments for good.” And he lowered himself -into the easy chair and crossed his legs, regarding me very comically. -“What's this I hear of your joining the burghers and barristers, and -trouncing poor Mr. Fairbrother and his flock, and crying 'Liberty -forever!' in the very ears of the law?” he asks. “His Majesty will have -need of such lads as you, I make no doubt, and should such proceedings -come to his ears I would not give a pipe for your chances.” - -I could not but laugh, confused as I was, at his Excellency's rally. And -this I may say, that had it pleased Providence to give me dealing -with such men of the King's side as he, perchance my fortunes had been -altered. - -“And in any good cause, sir,” I replied, “I would willingly give my life -to his Majesty.” - -“So,” said his Excellency, raising his eyebrows, “I see clearly you are -of the rascals. But a lad must have his fancies, and when your age I was -hot for the exiled Prince. I acquired more sense as I grew older. And -better an active mind, say I, than a sluggard partisan.” - -At this stage of our talk came in my Uncle Grafton, and bowing low to -the Governor made apology that some of the elders of the family had not -been there to entertain him. He told his Excellency that he had never -left the house save for necessary business, which was true for once, -my uncle having taken up his abode with us during that week. But now, -thanking Heaven and Dr. Leiden and his own poor effort, he could report -his dear father to be out of danger. - -Governor Sharpe answered shortly that he had been happy to hear the good -news from Scipio. “Faith,” says he, “I was well enough entertained, for -I have a liking for this lad, and to speak truth I saw him here as I -came up the walk.” - -My uncle smiled deprecatingly, and hid any vexation he might have had -from this remark. - -“I fear that Richard lacks wisdom as yet, your Excellency,” said he, -“and has many of his father's headstrong qualities.” - -“Which you most providentially escaped,” his Excellency put in. - -Grafton bit his lip. “Necessity makes us all careful, sir,” said he. - -“Necessity does more than that, Mr. Carvel,” returned the Governor, who -was something of a wit; “necessity often makes us fools, if we be not -careful. But give me ever a wanton fool rather than him of necessity's -handiwork. And as for the lad,” says he, “let him not trouble you. Such -as he, if twisted a little in the growth, come out straight enough in -the end.” - -I think the Governor little knew what wormwood was this to my uncle. - -“'Tis heartily to be hoped, sir,” he said, “for his folly has brought -trouble enough behind it to those who have his education and his welfare -in hand, and I make no doubt is at the bottom of my father's illness.” - -At this injustice I could not but cry out, for all the town knew, and -my grandfather himself best of all, that the trouble from which he -now suffered sprang from his gout. And yet my heart was smitten at -the thought that I might have hastened or aggravated the attack. The -Governor rose. He seized his stick aggressively and looked sharply at -Grafton. - -“Nonsense,” he exclaimed; “my friend Mr. Carvel is far too wise to be -upset by a boyish prank which deserves no notice save a caning. And -that, my lad,” he added lightly, “I dare swear you got with interest.” - And he called for a glass of the old Madeira when Scipio came with -the tray, and departed with a polite inquiry after my Aunt Caroline's -health, and a prophecy that Mr. Carvel would soon be taking the air -again. - -There had been high doings indeed in Marlboro' Street that miserable -week. My grandfather took to his bed of a Saturday afternoon, and bade -me go down to Mr. Aikman's, the bookseller, and fetch him the latest -books and plays. That night I became so alarmed that I sent Diomedes for -Dr. Leiden, who remained the night through. Sunday was well gone before -the news reached York Street, when my Aunt Caroline came hurrying over -in her chair, and my uncle on foot. They brushed past Scipio at the -door, and were pushing up the long flight when they were stopped on the -landing by Dr. Leiden. - -“How is my father, sir?” Grafton cried, “and why was I not informed at -once of his illness? I must see him.” - -“Your vater can see no one, Mr. Carvel,” said the doctor, quietly. - -“What,” says my uncle, “you dare to refuse me?” - -“Not so lout, I bray you,” says the doctor; “I tare any ting vere life -is concerned.” - -“But I will see him,” says Grafton, in a sort of helpless rage, for the -doctor's manner baffled him. “I will see him before he dies, and no man -alive shall say me nay.” - -Then my Aunt Caroline gathered up her skirt, and made shift to pass the -doctor. - -“I have come to nurse him,” said she, imperiously, and, turning to where -I stood near, she added: “Bid a servant fetch from York Street what I -shall have need of.” - -The doctor smiled, but stood firm. He cared little for aught in heaven -or earth, did Dr. Leiden, and nothing whatever for Mr. and Mrs. Grafton -Carvel. - -“I peg you, matam, do not disturp yourself,” said he. “Mr. Carvel is -aply attended by an excellent voman, Mrs. Villis, and he has no neet of -you.” - -“What,” cried my aunt; “this is too much, sir, that I am thrust out of -my father-in-law's house, and my place taken by a menial. That woman -able!” she fumed, dropping suddenly her cloak of dignity; “Mr. Carvel's -charity is all that keeps her here.” - -Then my uncle drew himself up. “Dr. Leiden,” says he, “kindly oblige me -by leaving my father's house, and consider your services here at an end. -And Richard,” he goes on to me, “send my compliments to Dr. Drake, and -request him to come at once.” - -I was stepping forward to say that I would do nothing of the kind, when -the doctor stopped me by a signal, as much as to say that the quarrel -was wide enough without me. He stood with his back against the great -arched window flooded with the yellow light of the setting sun, a little -black figure in high relief, with a face of parchment. And he took a -pinch of snuff before he spoke. - -“I am here py Mr. Carvel's orters, sir,” said he, “and py tose alone -vill I leaf.” - -And this is how the Chippendale piece was broke, which you, my children, -and especially Bess, admire so extravagantly. It stood that day behind -the doctor, and my uncle, making a violent move to get by, struck it, -and so it fell with a great crash lengthwise on the landing; and the -wonderful vases Mr. Carroll had given my grandfather rolled down the -stairs and lay crushed at the bottom. Withal he had spoken so quietly, -Dr. Leiden possessed a temper drawn from his Teutonic ancestors. With -his little face all puckered, he swore so roundly at my uncle in some -lingo he had got from his father,--High German or Low German,--I know -not what, that Grafton and his wife were glad enough to pick their -way amongst the broken bits of glass and china, to the hall again. -Dr. Leiden shook his fist at their retreating persons, saying that the -Sabbath was no day to do murder. - -I followed them with the pretence of picking up what was left of the -ornaments. What between anger against the doctor and Mrs. Willis, and -fright and chagrin at the fall of the Chippendale piece, my aunt was in -such a state of nervous flurry that she bade the ashy Scipio call her -chairmen, and vowed, in a trembling voice, she would never again enter -a house where that low-bred German was to be found. But my Uncle Grafton -was of a different nature. He deemed defeat but a postponement of the -object he wished to gain, and settled himself in the library with a -copy of “Miller on the Distinction of Ranks in Society.” He appeared at -supper suave as ever, gravely concerned as to his father's health, which -formed the chief topic between us. He gave me to understand that he -would take the green room until the old gentleman was past danger. Not -a word, mind you, of Dr. Leiden, nor did my uncle express a wish to go -into the sick-room, from which even I was forbid. Nay, the next morning -he met the doctor in the hall and conversed with him at some length over -the case as though nothing had occurred between them. - -While my Uncle Grafton was in the house I had opportunity of marking -the intimacy which existed between him and the rector of St. Anne's. The -latter swung each evening the muffled knocker, and was ushered on tiptoe -across the polished floor to the library where my uncle sat in state. It -was often after supper before the rector left, and coming in upon them -once I found wine between them and empty decanters on the board, and -they fell silent as I passed the doorway. - -Our dear friend Captain Clapsaddle was away when my grandfather fell -sick, having been North for three months or more on some business known -to few. 'Twas generally supposed he went to Massachusetts to confer with -the patriots of that colony. Hearing the news as he rode into town, -he came booted and spurred to Marlboro' Street before going to his -lodgings. I ran out to meet him, and he threw his arms about me on the -street so that those who were passing smiled, for all knew the captain. -And Harvey, who always came to take the captain's horse, swore that he -was glad to see a friend of the family once again. I told the captain -very freely of my doings, and showed him the clipping from the Gazette, -which made him laugh heartily. But a shade came upon his face when I -rehearsed the scene we had with my uncle and Mr. Allen in the garden. - -“What,” says he, “Mr. Carvel hath sent you to Mr. Allen on your uncle's -advice?” - -“No,” I answered, “to do my uncle justice, he said not a word to Mr. -Carvel about it.” - -The captain turned the subject. He asked me much concerning the rector -and what he taught me, and appeared but ill-pleased at that I had -to tell him. But he left me without so much as a word of comment or -counsel. For it was a principle with Captain Clapsaddle not to influence -in any way the minds of the young, and he would have deemed it unfair to -Mr. Carvel had he attempted to win my sympathies to his. Captain -Daniel was the first the old gentleman asked to see when visitors were -permitted him, and you may be sure the faithful soldier was below stairs -waiting for the summons. - -I was some three weeks with my new tutor, the rector, before my -grandfather's illness, and went back again as soon as he began to mend. -I was not altogether unhappy, owing to a certain grim pleasure I had -in debating with him, which I shall presently relate. There was much -to annoy and anger me, too. My cousin Philip was forever carping and -criticising my Greek and Latin, and it was impossible not to feel his -sneer at my back when I construed. He had pat replies ready to correct -me when called upon, and 'twas only out of consideration for Mr. Carvel -that I kept my hands from him when we were dismissed. - -I think the rector disliked Philip in his way as much as did I in mine. -The Reverend Bennett Allen, indeed, might have been a very good fellow -had Providence placed him in a different setting; he was one of those -whom his Excellency dubbed “fools from necessity.” He should have been -born with a fortune, though I can think of none he would not have run -through in a year or so. But nature had given him aristocratic tastes, -with no other means toward their gratification than good looks, -convincing ways, and a certain bold, half-defiant manner, which went far -with his Lordship and those like him, who thought Mr. Allen excellent -good company. With the rector, as with too many others, holy orders were -but a means to an end. It was a sealed story what he had been before he -came to Governor Sharpe with Baltimore's directions to give him the best -in the colony. But our rakes and wits, and even our solid men, like -my grandfather, received him with open arms. He had ever a tale on his -tongue's end tempered to the ear of his listener. - -Who had most influenced my way of thinking, Mr. Allen had well demanded. -The gentleman was none other than Mr. Henry Swain, Patty's father. Of -her I shall speak later. He was a rising barrister and man of note among -our patriots, and member of the Lower House; a diffident man in public, -with dark, soulful eyes, and a wide, white brow, who had declined -a nomination to the Congress of '65. At his fireside, unknown to my -grandfather and to Mr. Allen, I had learned the true principles of -government. Before the House Mr. Swain spoke only under extraordinary -emotion, and then he gained every ear. He had been my friend since -childhood, but I never knew the meaning and the fire of oratory until -curiosity brought me to the gallery of the Assembly chamber in the Stadt -House, where the barrister was on his feet at the time. I well remember -the tingle in my chest as I looked and listened. And I went again and -again, until the House sat behind closed doors. - -And so, when Mr. Allen brought forth for my benefit those arguments of -the King's party which were deemed their strength, I would confront him -with Mr. Swain's logic. He had in me a tough subject for conversion. -I was put to very small pains to rout my instructor out of all his -positions, because indolence, and lack of interest in the question, and -contempt for the Americans, had made him neglect the study of it. And -Philip, who entered at first glibly enough at the rector's side, was -soon drawn into depths far beyond him. Many a time was Mr. Allen fain -to laugh at his blunders. I doubt not my cousin had the facts straight -enough when he rose from the breakfast table at home; but by the time he -reached the rectory they were shaken up like so many parts of a puzzle -in a bag, and past all straightening. - -The rector was especially bitter toward the good people of Boston Town, -whom he dubbed Puritan fanatics. To him Mr. Otis was but a meddling -fool, and Mr. Adams a traitor whose head only remained on his shoulders -by grace of the extreme clemency of his Majesty, which Mr. Allen was at -a loss to understand. When beaten in argument, he would laugh out some -sneer that would set my blood simmering. One morning he came in late for -the lesson, smelling strongly of wine, and bade us bring our books out -under the fruit trees in the garden. He threw back his gown and -tilted his cap, and lighting his pipe began to speak of that act of -Townshend's, passed but the year before, which afterwards proved the -King's folly and England's ruin. - -“Principle!” exclaimed my fine clergyman at length, blowing a great -whiff among the white blossoms. “Oons! your Americans worship his -Majesty stamped upon a golden coin. And though he saved their tills -from plunder from the French, the miserly rogues are loth to pay for the -service.” - -I rose, and taking a guinea-piece from my pocket, held it up before him. - -“They care this much for gold, sir, and less for his Majesty, who cares -nothing for them,” I said. And walking to the well near by, I dropped -the piece carelessly into the clear water. He was beside me before it -left my hand, and Philip also, in time to see the yellow coin edging -this way and that toward the bottom. The rector turned to me with a -smile of cynical amusement playing over his features. - -“Such a spirit has brought more than one brave fellow to Tyburn, Master -Carvel,” he said. And then he added reflectively, “But if there were -more like you, we might well have cause for alarm.” - - - - -Volume 2. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. OVER THE WALL - -Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted -power at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to -town Dr. Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies, -a request which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had -given his consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for -the days when she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor -contrived to see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was -forever at her house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen of -fashion like the doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but in -reality to see Miss Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be lingering -in the drawing-room in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in the -garden as Dr. Courtenay passed, and I got but scant attention indeed. I -was but an awkward lad, and an old playmate, with no novelty about me. - -“Why, Richard,” she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or -sat at dinner in Prince George Street, “I know every twist and turn of -your nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir, -you are very tiresome.” - -“You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I -walked the Oriole's bowsprit,” I replied ruefully. - -“Why don't you make me jealous?” says she, stamping her foot. “A score -of pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,--Jennie and Bess -Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They -are actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said -I, 'if you will but rid me of him for a day, you shall have my lasting -gratitude.'” - -And she turned to the spinet and began a lively air. But the taunt -struck deeper than she had any notion of. That spring arrived out from -London on the Belle of the Wye a box of fine clothes my grandfather had -commanded for me from his own tailor; and a word from a maid of fifteen -did more to make me wear them than any amount of coaxing from Mr. Allen -and my Uncle Grafton. My uncle seemed in particular anxious that I -should make a good appearance, and reminded me that I should dress as -became the heir of the Carvel house. I took counsel with Patty Swain, -and then went to see Betty Tayloe, and the Fotheringay girls, and -the Dulany girls, near the Governor's. And (fie upon me!) I was not -ill-pleased with the brave appearance I made. I would show my mistress -how little I cared. But the worst of it was, the baggage seemed to -trouble less than I, and had the effrontery to tell me how happy she was -I had come out of my shell, and broken loose from her apron-strings. - -“Indeed, they would soon begin to think I meant to marry you, Richard,” - says she at supper one Sunday before a tableful, and laughed with the -rest. - -“They do not credit you with such good sense, my dear,” says her mother, -smiling kindly at me. - -And Dolly bit her lip, and did not join in that part of the merriment. - -I fled to Patty Swain for counsel, nor was it the first time in my life -I had done so. Some good women seem to have been put into this selfish -world to comfort and advise. After Prince George Street with its gilt -and marbles and stately hedged gardens, the low-beamed, vine-covered -house in the Duke of Gloucester Street was a home and a rest. In my eyes -there was not its equal in Annapolis for beauty within and without. Mr. -Swain had bought the dwelling from an aged man with a history, dead -some nine years back. Its furniture, for the most part, was of the -Restoration, of simple and massive oak blackened by age, which I ever -fancied better than the Frenchy baubles of tables and chairs with -spindle legs, and cabinets of glass and gold lacquer which were then -making their way into the fine mansions of our town. The house was full -of twists and turns, and steps up and down, and nooks and passages and -queer hiding-places which we children knew, and in parts queer leaded -windows of bulging glass set high in the wall, and older than the reign -of Hanover. Here was the shrine of cleanliness, whose high-priestess was -Patty herself. Her floors were like satin-wood, and her brasses lights -in themselves. She had come honestly enough by her gifts, her father -having married the daughter of an able townsman of Salem, in the -Massachusetts colony, when he had gone north after his first great -success in court. Now the poor lady sat in a padded armchair from -morning to night, beside the hearth in winter, and under the trees in -summer, by reason of a fall she had had. There she knitted all the day -long. Her placid face and quiet way come before me as I write. - -My friendship with Patty had begun early. One autumn day when I was a -little lad of eight or nine, my grandfather and I were driving back from -Whitehall in the big coach, when we spied a little maid of six by -the Severn's bank, with her apron full of chestnuts. She was trudging -bravely through the dead leaves toward the town. Mr. Carvel pulled -the cord to stop, and asked her name. “Patty Swain, and it please -your honour,” the child answered, without fear. “So you are the -young barrister's daughter?” says he, smiling at something I did not -understand. She nodded. “And how is it you are so far from home, and -alone, my little one?” asked Mr. Carvel again. For some time he could -get nothing out of her; but at length she explained, with much coaxing, -that her big brother Tom had deserted her. My grandfather wished that -Tom were his brother, that he might be punished as he deserved. He -commanded young Harvey to lift the child into the coach, chestnuts -and all, and there she sat primly between us. She was not as pretty as -Dorothy, so I thought, but her clear gray eyes and simple ways impressed -me by their very honesty, as they did Mr. Carvel. What must he do but -drive her home to Green Street, where Mr. Swain then lived in a little -cottage. Mr. Carvel himself lifted her out and kissed her, and -handed her to her mother at the gate, who was vastly overcome by the -circumstance. The good lady had not then received that fall which made -her a cripple for life. “And will you not have my chestnuts, sir, for -your kindness?” says little Patty. Whereat my grandfather laughed and -kissed her again, for he loved children, and wished to know if she would -not be his daughter, and come to live in Marlboro' Street; and told the -story of Tom, for fear she would not. He was silent as we drove away, -and I knew he was thinking of my own mother at that age. - -Not long after this Mr. Swain bought the house in the Duke of Gloucester -Street. This, as you know, is back to back with Marlboro. To reach -Patty's garden I had but to climb the brick wall at the rear of our -grounds, and to make my way along the narrow green lane left there for -perhaps a hundred paces of a lad, to come to the gate in the wooden -paling. In return I used to hoist Patty over the wall, and we would play -at children's games under the fruit trees that skirted it. Some instinct -kept her away from the house. I often caught her gazing wistfully at its -wings and gables. She was not born to a mansion, so she said. - -“But your father is now rich,” I objected. I had heard Captain Daniel -say so. “He may have a mansion of his own and he chooses. He can better -afford it than many who are in debt for the fine show they make.” I was -but repeating gossip. - -“I should like to see the grand company come in, when your grandfather -has them to dine,” said the girl. “Sometimes we have grand gentlemen -come to see father in their coaches, but they talk of nothing but -politics. We never have any fine ladies like--like your Aunt Caroline.” - -I startled her by laughing derisively. - -“And I pray you never may, Patty,” was all I said. - -I never told Dolly of my intimacy with the barrister's little girl over -the wall. This was not because I was ashamed of the friendship, but -arose from a fear-well-founded enough--that she would make sport of it. -At twelve Dolly had notions concerning the walks of life that most -other children never dream of. They were derived, of course, from Mr. -Marmaduke. But the day of reckoning arrived. Patty and I were romping -beside the back wall when suddenly a stiff little figure in a starched -frock appeared through the trees in the direction of the house, followed -by Master Will Fotheringay in his visiting clothes. I laugh now when I -think of that formal meeting between the two little ladies. There was -no time to hoist Miss Swain over the wall, or to drive Miss Manners back -upon the house. Patty stood blushing as though caught in a guilty act, -while she of the Generations came proudly on, Will sniggering behind -her. - -“Who is this, Richard?” asks Miss Manners, pointing a small forefinger. - -“Patty Swain, if you must know!” I cried, and added boylike: “And she is -just as good as you or me, and better.” I was quite red in the face, -and angry because of it. “This is Dorothy Manners, Patty, and Will -Fotheringay.” - -The moment was a pregnant one. But I was resolved to carry the matter -out with a bold front. “Will you join us at catch and swing?” I asked. - -Will promptly declared that he would join, for Patty was good to look -upon. Dolly glanced at her dress, tossed her head, and marched back -alone. - -“Oh, Richard!” cried Patty; “I shall never forgive myself! I have made -you quarrel with--” - -“His sweetheart,” said Will, wickedly. - -“I don't care,” said I. Which was not so. - -Patty felt no resentment for my miss's haughty conduct, but only a -tearful penitence for having been the cause of a strife between us. -Will's arguments and mine availed nothing. I must lift her over the -wall again, and she went home. When we reached the garden we found -Dolly seated beside her mother on my grandfather's bench, from which -stronghold our combined tactics were powerless to drag her. - -When Dolly was gone, I asked my grandfather in great indignation why -Patty did not play with the children I knew, with Dorothy and the -Fotheringays. He shook his head dubiously. “When you are older, Richard, -you will understand that our social ranks are cropped close. Mr. Swain -is an honest and an able man, though he believes in things I do not. -I hear he is becoming wealthy. And I have no doubt,” the shrewd old -gentleman added, “that when Patty grows up she will be going to the -assemblies, though it was not so in my time.” So liberal was he that -he used to laugh at my lifting her across the wall, and in his leisure -delight to listen to my accounts of her childish housekeeping. Her life -was indeed a contrast to Dorothy's. She had all the solid qualities that -my lady lacked in early years. And yet I never wavered in my liking -to the more brilliant and wayward of the two. The week before my next -birthday, when Mr. Carvel drew me to him and asked me what I wished for -a present that year, as was his custom, I said promptly: - -“I should like to have Patty Swain at my party, sir.” - -“So you shall, my lad,” he cried, taking his snuff and eying me -with pleasure. “I am glad to see, Richard, that you have none of Mr. -Marmaduke's nonsense about you. She is a good girl, i' faith, and more -of a lady now than many who call themselves such. And you shall have -your present to boot. Hark'ee, Daniel,” said he to the captain; “if -the child comes to my house, the poll-parrots and follow-me-ups will be -wanting her, too.” - -But the getting her to go was a matter of five days. For Patty was -sensitive, like her father, and dreaded a slight. Not so with Master -Tom, who must, needs be invited, too. He arrived half an hour ahead -of time, arrayed like Solomon, and without his sister! I had to go for -Patty, indeed, after the party had begun, and to get the key to the -wicket in the wall to take her in that way, so shy was she. My dear -grandfather showed her particular attention. And Miss Dolly herself, -being in the humour, taught her a minuet. - -After that she came to all my birthdays, and lost some of her shyness. -And was invited to other great houses, even as Mr. Carvel had predicted. -But her chief pleasure seemed ever her duty. Whether or no such -characters make them one and the same, who can tell? She became the -light of her father's house, and used even to copy out his briefs, at -which task I often found her of an evening. - -As for Tom, that graceless scamp, I never could stomach him. I wondered -then, as I have since, how he was the brother of such a sister. He could -scarce bide his time until Mr. Swain should have a coach and a seat in -the country with the gentry. “A barrister,” quoth he, “is as good as any -one else. And if my father came out a redemptioner, and worked his way, -so had old Mr. Dulany. Our family at home was the equal of his.” All of -which was true, and more. He would deride Patty for sewing and baking, -vowing that they had servants enough now to do the work twice over. She -bore with him with a patience to be marvelled at; and I could never get -it through my head why Mr. Swain indulged him, though he was the -elder, and his mother's favourite. Tom began to dress early. His open -admiration was Dr. Courtenay, his confessed hope to wear five-pound -ruffles and gold sword knots. He clung to Will Fotheringay with a -tenacity that became proverbial among us boys, and his boasts at King -William's School were his father's growing wealth and intimacy with the -great men of the province. - -As I grew older, I took the cue of political knowledge, as I have said, -from Mr. Swain rather than Captain Daniel, who would tell me nothing. I -fell into the habit of taking supper in Gloucester Street. The meal was -early there. And when the dishes were cleared away, and the barrister's -pipe lit, and Patty and her mother had got their sewing, he would talk -by the hour on the legality of our resistance to the King, and discuss -the march of affairs in England and the other colonies. He found me a -ready listener, and took pains to teach me clearly the right and wrong -of the situation. 'Twas his religion, even as loyalty to the King was my -grandfather's, and he did not think it wrong to spread it. He likewise -instilled into me in that way more of history than Mr. Allen had ever -taught me, using it to throw light upon this point or that. But I never -knew his true power and eloquence until I followed him to the Stadt -House. - -Patty was grown a girl of fifteen then, glowing with health, and had -ample good looks of her own. 'Tis odd enough that I did not fall in -love with her when Dolly began to use me so outrageously. But a lad of -eighteen is scarce a rational creature. I went and sat before my -oracle upon the vine-covered porch under the eaves, and poured out my -complaint. She laid down her needlework and laughed. - -“You silly boy,” said she, “can't you see that she herself has -prescribed for you? She was right when she told you to show attention -to Jenny. And if you dangle about Miss Dolly now, you are in danger of -losing her. She knows it better than you.” - -I had Jenny to ride the very next day. Result: my lady smiled on me more -sweetly than ever when I went to Prince George Street, and vowed Jenny -had never looked prettier than when she went past the house. This left -my victory in such considerable doubt that I climbed the back wall -forthwith in my new top-boots. - -“So you looked for her to be angry?” said Patty. - -“Most certainly,” said I. - -“Unreasoning vanity!” she cried, for she knew how to speak plain. “By -your confession to me you have done this to please her, for she warned -you at the beginning it would please her. And now you complain of it. I -believe I know your Dorothy better than you.” - -And so I got but little comfort out of Patty that time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. UNDER FALSE COLOURS - -And now I come to a circumstance in my life I would rather pass over -quickly. Had I steered the straight course of my impulse I need never -have deceived that dear gentleman whom I loved and honoured above any in -this world, and with whom I had always lived and dealt openly. After my -grandfather was pronounced to be mending, I went back to Mr. Allen until -such time as we should be able to go to the country. Philip no longer -shared my studies, his hours having been changed from morning to -afternoon. I thought nothing of this, being content with the rector's -explanation that my uncle had a task for Philip in the morning, now -that Mr. Carvel was better. And I was well content to be rid of Philip's -company. But as the days passed I began to mark an absence still -stranger. I had my Horace and my Ovid still: but the two hours from -eleven to one, which he was wont to give up to history and what he was -pleased to call instruction in loyalty, were filled with other matter. -Not a word now of politics from Mr. Allen. Not even a comment from him -concerning the spirited doings of our Assembly, with which the town -was ringing. That body had met but a while before, primed to act on the -circular drawn up by Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. The Governor's message -had not been so prompt as to forestall them, and I am occupied scarce -the time in the writing of this that it took our brave members to adopt -the petition to his Majesty and to pass resolutions of support to our -sister colony of the North. This being done, and a most tart reply -penned to his Excellency, they ended that sitting and passed in -procession to the Governor's mansion to deliver it, Mr. Speaker Lloyd -at their head, and a vast concourse of cheering people at their heels. -Shutters were barred on the Tory houses we passed. And though Mr. Allen -spied me in the crowd, he never mentioned the circumstance. More than -once I essayed to draw from him an opinion of Mr. Adams's petition, -which was deemed a work of great moderation and merit, and got nothing -but evasion from my tutor. That he had become suddenly an American in -principle I could not believe. At length I made bold to ask him why -our discussions were now omitted. He looked up from the new play he was -reading on the study lounge, with a glance of dark meaning I could not -fathom. - -“You are learning more than I can teach you in Gloucester Street, and at -the Stadt House,” he said. - -In truth I was at a loss to understand his attitude until the day in -June my grandfather and I went to Carvel Hall. - -The old gentleman was weak still, so feeble that he had to be carried -to his barge in a chair, a vehicle he had ever held in scorn. But he -was cheerful, and his spirit remained the same as of old: but for that -spirit I believe he had never again risen from his bed in Marlboro' -Street. My uncle and the rector were among those who walked by his side -to the dock, and would have gone to the Hall with him had he permitted -them. He was kind enough to say that my arm was sufficient to lean on. - -What peace there was sitting once again under the rustling trees on the -lawn with the green river and the blue bay spread out before us, and -Scipio standing by with my grandfather's punch. Mr. Carvel would have me -rehearse again all that had passed in town and colony since his illness, -which I did with as much moderation as I was able. And as we talked he -reached out and took my hand, for I sat near him, and said: - -“Richard, I have heard tidings of you that gladden my heart, and they -have done more than Dr. Leiden's physic for this old frame of mine. I -well knew a Carvel could never go a wrong course, lad, and you least of -any.” - -“Tidings, sir?” I said. - -“Ay, tidings,” answered Mr. Carvel. Such a note of relief and gladness -there was in the words as I had not heard for months from him, and a -vague fear came upon me. - -“Scipio,” he said merrily, “a punch for Mr. Richard.” And when the glass -was brought my grandfather added: “May it be ever thus!” - -I drained the toast, not falling into his humour or comprehending his -reference, but dreading that aught I might say would disturb him, held -my peace. And yet my apprehension increased. He set down his glass and -continued: - -“I had no hope of this yet, Richard, for you were ever slow to change. -Your conversion does credit to Mr. Allen as well as to you. In short, -sir, the rector gives me an excellent good account of your studies, and -adds that the King hath gained another loyal servant, for which I thank -God.” - -I have no words to write of my feelings then. My head swam and my hand -trembled on my grandfather's, and I saw dimly the old gentleman's face -aglow with joy and pride, and knew not what to say or do. The answer I -framed, alas, remained unspoken. From his own lips I had heard how -much the news had mended him, and for once I lacked the heart, nay, the -courage, to speak the truth. But Mr. Carvel took no heed of my silence, -setting it down to another cause. - -“And so, my son,” he said, “there is no need of sending you to Eton next -fall. I am not much longer for this earth, and can ill spare you: and -Mr. Allen kindly consents to prepare you for Oxford.” - -“Mr. Allen consents to that, sir?” I gasped. I think, could I have laid -hands on the rector then, I would have thrashed him, cloth and all, -within an inch of his life. - -And as if to crown my misery Mr. Carvel rose, and bearing heavily on my -shoulder led me to the stable where Harvey and one of the black grooms -stood in livery to receive us. Harvey held by the bridle a blooded bay -hunter, and her like could scarce be found in the colony. As she stood -arching her neck and pawing the ground, I all confusion and shame, my -grandfather said simply: - -“Richard, this is Firefly. I have got her for you from Mr. Randolph, of -Virginia, for you are now old enough to have a good mount of your own.” - -All that night I lay awake, trying to sift some motive for Mr. Allen's -deceit. For the life of me I could see no farther than a desire to keep -me as his pupil, since he was well paid for his tuition. Still, the game -did not seem worth the candle. However, he was safe in his lie. Shrewd -rogue that he was, he well knew that I would not risk the attack a -disappointment might bring my grandfather. - -What troubled me most of all was the fear that Grafton had reaped the -advantage of the opportunity the illness gave him, and by his insidious -arts had worked himself back into the good graces of his father. You -must not draw from this, my dears, that I feared for the inheritance. -Praised be God, I never thought of that! But I came by nature to hate -and to fear my uncle, as I hated and feared the devil. I saw him with my -father's eyes, and with my mother's, and as my grandfather had seen him -in the old days when he was strong. Instinct and reason alike made me -loathe him. As the months passed, and letters in Grafton's scroll -hand came from the Kent estate or from Annapolis, my misgivings were -confirmed by odd remarks that dropped from Mr. Carvel's lips. At length -arrived the revelation itself. - -“I fear, Richard,” he had said querulously, “I fear that all these years -I have done your uncle an injustice. Dear Elizabeth was wont to plead -for him before she died, but I would never listen to her. I was hearty -and strong then, and my heart was hard. And a remembrance of many things -was fresh in my mind.” He paused for breath, as was his habit now. And -I said nothing. “But Grafton has striven to wipe out the past. Sickness -teaches us that we must condone, and not condemn. He has lived a -reputable life, and made the most of the little start I gave him. He -has supported his Majesty and my Lord in most trying times. And his -Excellency tells me that the coming governor, Eden, will surely reward -him with a seat in the Council.” - -I thought of Governor Sharpe's biting words to Grafton. The Governor -knew my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council. - -“A son is a son, Richard,” continued Mr. Carvel. “You will one day -find that out. Your uncle has atoned. He hath been faithful during my -illness, despite my cold treatment. And he hath convinced me that your -welfare is at his heart. I believe he is fond of you, my lad.” - -No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel -should become blind to Grafton's hypocrisy; forget his attempts to -prevent my father's marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother's birth. -The agony it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception, -I shall not dwell upon. And the thought bursting within me remained -unspoken. - -I saw less of Dorothy then than I had in any summer of my life before. -In spite of Mrs. Manners, the chrysalis had burst into the butterfly, -and Wilmot House had never been so gay. It must be remembered that -there were times when young ladies made their entrance into the world at -sixteen, and for a beauty to be unmarried at twenty-two was rare indeed. -When I went to Wilmot House to dine, the table would be always full, and -Mr. Marmaduke simpering at the head of it, his air of importance doubled -by his reflected glory. - -“We see nothing of you, my lad,” he would say; “you must not let these -young gallants get ahead of you. How does your grandfather? I must pay -my compliments to-morrow.” - -Of gallants there were enough, to be sure. Dr. Courtenay, of course, -with a nosegay on his coat, striving to catch the beauty's eye. And Mr. -Worthington and Mr. Dulany, and Mr. Fitzhugh and Mr. Paca, and I -know not how many other young bachelors of birth and means. And Will -Fotheringay, who spent some of his time with me at the Hall. Silver and -China, with the Manners coat-of-arms, were laid out that had not seen -the light for many along day. And there were picnics, and sailing -parties, and dances galore, some of which I attended, but heard of more. -It seemed to me that my lady was tiring of the doctor's compliments, and -had transferred her fickle favour to young Mr. Fitzhugh, who was much -more worthy, by the way. As for me, I had troubles enough then, and had -become used in some sort to being shelved. - -One night in July,--'twas the very day Mr. Carvel had spoken to me of -Grafton,--I had ridden over to Wilmot House to supper. I had little -heart for going, but good Mrs. Manners herself had made me promise, and -I could: not break my word. I must have sat very silent and preoccupied -at the table, where all was wit and merriment. And more than once I saw -the laughter leave Dorothy's face, and caught her eyes upon; me with -such a look as set my beast throbbing. They would not meet my own, but -would turn away instantly. I was heavy indeed that night, and did -not follow the company into the ballroom, but made my excuses to Mrs. -Manners. - -The lawn lay bathed in moonlight; and as I picked, my way over it toward -the stables for Firefly, I paused to look back at the house aglow, with -light, the music of the fiddles and the sound of laughter floating out -of the open windows. Even as I gaped a white figure was framed in the -doorway, paused a moment on the low stone step, and then came on until -it stood beside me. - -“Are you not well, Richard?” - -“Yes, I am well,” I answered. I scarcely knew my own voice. - -“Is your grandfather worse?” - -“No, Dorothy; he seems better to-day.” - -She stood seemingly irresolute, her eyes new lifted, now falling before -mine. Her slender arms bare, save for the little puff at the shoulders; -her simple dress drawn a little above the waist, then falling straight -to the white slipper. How real the ecstasy of that moment, and the pain -of it! - -“Why do you not coarse over, as you used to?” she asked, in a low tone. - -“I am very busy,” I replied evasively; “Mr. Carvel cannot attend to his -affairs.” I longed to tell her the whole truth, but the words would not -come. - -“I hear you are managing the estate all alone,” she said. - -“There is no one else to do it.” - -“Richard,” she cried, drawing closer; “you are in trouble. I--I have -seen it. You are so silent, and--and you seem to have become older. Tell -me, is it your Uncle Grafton?” - -So astonished was I at the question, and because she had divined so, -surely, that I did not answer. - -“Is it?” she asked again. - -“Yes,” I said; “yes, in part.” - -And then came voices calling from the house. They had missed her. - -“I am so sorry, Richard. I shall tell no one.” - -She laid her hand ever so lightly upon mine and was gone. I stood -staring after her until she disappeared in the door. All the way home I -marvelled, my thoughts tumultuous, my hopes rising and falling. - -But when next I saw her, I thought she had forgotten. - -We had little company at the Hall that year, on account of Mr. Carvel. -And I had been busy indeed. I sought with all my might to master -a business for which I had but little taste, and my grandfather -complimented me, before the season was done, upon my management. I -was wont to ride that summer at four of a morning to canter beside -Mr. Starkie afield, and I came to know the yield of every patch to a -hogshead and the pound price to a farthing. I grew to understand as well -as another the methods of curing the leaf. And the wheat pest appearing -that year, I had the good fortune to discover some of the clusters in -the sheaves, and ground our oyster-shells in time to save the crop. Many -a long evening I spent on the wharves with old Stanwix, now toothless -and living on his pension, with my eye on the glow of his pipe and my -ear bent to his stories of the sea. It was his fancy that the gift of -prophecy had come to him with the years; and at times, when his look -would wander to the black rigging in the twilight, he would speak -strangely enough. - -“Faith, Mr. Richard,” he would say; “tho' your father was a soldier -afore ye, ye were born to the deck of a ship-o'-war. Mark an old man's -words, sir.” - -“Can you see the frigate, Stanwix?” I laughed once, when he had repeated -this with more than common solemnity. - -His reply rose above the singing of the locusts. - -“Ay, sir, that I can. But she's no frigate, sir. Devil knows what she -is. She looks like a big merchantman to me, such as I've seed in the -Injy trade, with a high poop in the old style. And her piercin's be not -like a frigate.” He said this with a readiness to startle me, and little -enough superstition I had. A light was on his seared face, and his pipe -lay neglected on the boards. “Ay, sir, and there be a flag astern of her -never yet seed on earth, nor on the waters under the earth. The tide is -settin' in, the tide is settin' in.” - -These were words to set me thinking. And many a time they came back to -me when the old man was laid away in the spot reserved for those who -sailed the seas for Mr. Carvel. - -Every week I drew up a report for my grandfather, and thus I strove by -shouldering labour and responsibility to ease my conscience of that load -which troubled it. For often, as we walked together through the yellow -fields of an evening, it had been on my tongue to confess the lie Mr. -Allen had led me into. But the sight of the old man, trembling and -tremulous, aged by a single stroke, his childlike trust in my strength -and beliefs, and above all his faith in a political creed which he nigh -deemed needful for the soul's salvation,--these things still held me -back. Was it worth while now, I asked myself, to disturb the peace of -that mind? - -Thus the summer wore on to early autumn. And one day I was standing -booted and spurred in the stables, Harvey putting the bridle upon -Firefly, when my boy Hugo comes running in. - -“Marse Dick!” he cries, “Marse Satan he come in the pinnace, and young -Marse Satan and Missis Satan, and Marse Satan's pastor!” - -“What the devil do you mean, Hugo?” - -“Young ebony's right, sir,” chuckled Harvey; “'tis the devil and his -following.” - -“Do you mean Mr. Grafton, fellow?” I demanded, the unwelcome truth -coming over me. - -“That he does,” remarked Harvey, laconically. “You won't be wanting her -now, your honour?” - -“Hold my stirrup,” I cried, for the news had put me in anger. “Hold my -stirrup, sirrah!” - -I believe I took Firefly the best of thirty miles that afternoon and -brought her back in the half-light, my saddle discoloured with her -sweat. I clanked into the hall like a captain of horse. The night was -sharp with the first touch of autumn, and a huge backlog lay on the -irons. Around it, in a comfortable half-circle sat our guests, Grafton -and Mr. Allen and Philip smoking and drinking for a whet against supper, -and Mrs. Grafton in my grandfather's chair. There was an easy air of -possession about the party of them that they had never before assumed, -and the sight made me rattle again, the big door behind me. - -“A surprise for you, my dear nephew,” Grafton said gayly, “I'll, lay a -puncheon you did, not, expect us.” - -Mr. Carvel woke with a start at the sound of the door and said -querulously, “Guests, my lord, and I have done my poor best to make them -welcome in your absence.” - -The sense of change in him stung me. How different would his tone have -been a year ago! - -He tattooed with his cane, which was the sign he generally made when he -was ready for bed. Toward night his speech would hurt him. I assisted -him up, the stairs, my uncle taking his arm on the other side. And -together, with Diomedes help; we undressed him, Grafton talking in low -tomes the while: Since this was, an office I was wont to perform, my -temper was now overwhelming me. But I kept my month closed. At last -he had had the simple meal Dr. Leiden allowed him, his candles were -snuffed, and my uncle and I made our way to the hall together: There my -aunt and Mr. Allen were at picquet. - -“Supper is insupportably late,” says she; with a yawn, and rings the -hand-bell. “Scipio,” she cries, “why are we not served?” - -I took a stride forward. But my uncle raised a restraining hand. - -“Caroline, remember that this is not our house,” says he, reprovingly. - -There fell a deep silence; the log cracking; and just then the door -swung on its hinges, and Mr. Starkie entered with the great bunch of -keys in his hand. - -“The buildings are all secure; Mr. Richard,” he said. - -“Very good, Starkie,” I replied. I turned to Scipio, standing by the -low-boy, his teeth, going like a castanet. - -“You may serve at the usual hour, Scipio,” said I. - -Supper began stiff as a state banquet. My uncle was conciliatory, with -the manners of a Crichton. My aunt, not having come from generations of -silver and self-control, flatly in a bad humour. Mr. Allen talked -from force of habit, being used to pay in such kind for his meals. But -presently the madeira, warmed these two into a better spirit. I felt -that I had victory on my side, and was nothing loth to join them at -whist, Philip and I against the rector and my aunt, and won something -like two pounds apiece from them. Grafton made it a rule never to play. - -The next morning, when I returned from my inspection, I found the rector -and Philip had decamped with two of our choice horses, and that my uncle -and aunt had commanded the barge, and gone to Mr. Lloyd's. I sent for -Scipio. - -“Fore de Lawd, Marse Richard,” he wailed, “'twan't Scipio's fault. Marse -Grafton is dry fambly!” This was Scipio's strongest argument. “I jes' -can't refuse one of de fambly, Marse Dick; and old Marse he say he too -old now for quarrellin'.” - -I saw that resistance was useless. There was nothing for it but to bide -any time. And I busied myself with bills of cargo until I heard the -horses on the drive. Mr. Allen and Philip came swaggering in, flushed -with the exercise, and calling for punch, and I met them in the hall. - -“A word with you, Mr. Allen!” I called out. - -“A thousand, Mr. Richard, if you like,” he said gayly, “as soon as this -thirst of mine be quenched.” - -I waited while he drained two glasses, when he followed me into the -library, closing the door behind him. - -“Now, sir,” I began, “though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual -adviser, I intend speaking plain. For I know you to be one of the -greatest rogues in the colony.” - -I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me -through. But I had misjudged him. - -“Speak plain, by all means,” he replied; “but first let me ask for some -tobacco.” - -He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the -moment I was silent with sheer surprise. - -“You know I can't call you out,” he went on, surrounding himself with -clouds of smoke, “a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I -doubt whether I should. I like you, Richard,” said he. “You are -straight-spoken and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad -I should have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me -squirm for life's luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is -prime tobacco, Richard.” - -He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous -admiration for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could -not help liking him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably -handsome, and his riding clothes were of the latest London cut. - -“Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you -practise?” I asked curiously. - -“No doubt,” he answered carelessly; “but these are well enough, and -shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?” - -This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in -the interval. - -“I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions, -Mr. Allen,” I said. “I am not of the King's party now, and never shall -be. And you know this better than another.” - -“Those are strong words, Richard, my lad,” said he, bringing his -eyebrows together. - -“They are true words,” I retorted. “Why did you lie, I say?” - -He said nothing for a while, but his breath came heavily. - -“I will pass it, I will pass it,” he said at length, “but, by God! it -is more than I have had to swallow in all my life before. Look at your -grandfather, sir!” he cried; “behold him on the very brink of the grave, -and ask me again why I lied to him! His hope of heaven is scarce less -sacred to him than his love of the King, and both are so tightly wrapped -about his heart that this knowledge of you would break it. Yes, break -his heart, I say” (and he got to his legs), “and you would kill him for -the sake of a boyish fancy!” - -I knew he was acting, as well as though he had climbed upon the table -and said it. And yet he had struck the very note of my own fears, and -hit upon the one reason why I had not confessed lung ago. - -“There is more you might have said, Mr. Allen,” I remarked presently; -“you have a cause for keeping me under your instruction, and that is -behind all.” - -He gave me a strange look. - -“You are too acute by far,” said he; “your imagination runs with you. I -have said I like you, and I can teach you classics as well as another. -Is it not enough to admit that the money I get for your instruction -keeps me in champagne?” - -“No, it is not enough,” I said stoutly. - -“Then you must guess again, my lad,” he answered with a laugh, and left -the room with the easy grace that distinguished him. - -There was armed peace the rest of my uncle's visit. They departed on the -third day. My Aunt Caroline, when she was not at picquet with Mr. Allen -or quarrelling with Mrs. Willis or with Grafton himself, yawned without -cessation. She declared in one of her altercations with her lord and -master that she would lose her wits were they to remain another day, a -threat that did not seem to move Grafton greatly. Philip ever maintained -the right to pitch it on the side of his own convenience, and he chose -in this instance to come to the rescue of his dear mamma, and turned -the scales in her favour. He was pleased to characterize the Hall as -insupportable, and vowed that his clothes would be out of fashion -before they reached Rousby Hall, their next stopping-place. To do Philip -justice, he was more honest a rascal than his father, though I am of the -opinion that he had not the brain for great craft. And he had drawn from -his mother a love of baubles which kept his mind from scheming. He had -little to say to me, and I less to him. - -Grafton, as may be supposed, made me distinct advances before his -departure, perceiving the unwisdom of antagonizing me unnecessarily. -He had the imprudence once to ask of me the facts and figures of the -estate; and tho' 'twas skilfully done by contrasting his own crops in -Kent, you may be sure I was on my guard, and that he got nothing. - -I was near forgetting an incident of their visit which I afterwards had -good cause to remember. The morning of my talk with Mr. Allen I went to -the stables to see how he had used Cynthia, and found old Harvey wiping -her down, and rumbling the while like a crater. - -“What think you of the rector as a representative of heaven, Harvey?” I -asked. - -“Him a representative of heaven!” he snorted; “I've heard tell of rotten -boroughs, and I'm thinking Mr. Allen will be standing for one. What be -him and Mr. Grafton a-doing here, sir, plotting all kinds o' crime while -the old gentleman's nigh on his back?” - -“Plotting?” I said, catching at the word. - -“Ay, plotting,” repeated Harvey, casting his cloth away; “murder and all -the crimes in the calendar, I take it. I hear him and Mr. Grafton among -the stalls this morning, and when they sees me they look like Knipe, -here, caught with a fowl.” - -“And what were they saying?” I demanded. - -“Saying! God only knows their wickedness. I got the words 'Upper -Marlboro' and 'South River' and 'next voyage,' and that profligate -rector wanted to know as to how 'Griggs was reliable.'” - -I thought no more of it at the time, believing it to be some of the -small rascalities they were forever at. But that name of Griggs (why, -the powers only know) stuck in my mind to turn up again. - - - - -CHAPTER X. THE RED IN THE CARVEL BLOOD - -After that, when we went back to Annapolis for the winter, there was no -longer any disguise between my tutor and myself. I was not of a mind to -feign a situation that did not exist, nor to permit him to do so. I gave -him to understand that tho' I went to him for instruction, 'twas through -no fault of mine. That I would learn what I pleased and do what pleased -me. And the rector, a curse upon him, seemed well content with that; nor -could I come at his devil's reason far wanting me, save for the money, -as he had declared. There were days when he and I never touched a hook, -both being out of humour for study, when he told me yarns of Frederick -of Prussia and his giant guard, of Florence and of Venice, and of the -court of his Holiness of Rome. For he had drifted about the earth like a -log-end in the Atlantic, before his Lordship gave him his present berth. -We passed, too, whole mornings at picquet, I learning enough of Horace -to quote at the routs we both attended, but a deal more of kings and -deuces. And as I may add, that he got no more of my money than did I of -his. - -The wonder of it was that we never became friends. He was two men, this -rector of St. Anne's, half of him as lovable as any I ever encountered. -But trust him I never would, always meeting him on the middle ground; -and there were times, after his talks with Grafton, when his eyes were -like a cat's, and I was conscious of a sinister note in his dealing -which put me on my guard. - -You will say, my dears, that some change had come over me, that I was no -longer the same lad I have been telling you of. - -Those days were not these, yet I make no show of hiding or of -palliation. Was it Dorothy's conduct that drove me? Not wholly. A wild -red was ever in the Carvel blood, in Captain Jack, in Lionel, in the -ancestor of King Charles's day, who fought and bled and even gambled -for his king. And my grandfather knew this; he warned me, but he paid my -debts. And I thank Heaven he felt that my heart was right. - -I was grown now, certainly in stature. And having managed one of the -largest plantations in the province, I felt the man, as lads are wont -after their first responsibilities. I commanded my wine at the Coffee -House with the best of the bucks, and was made a member of the South -River and Jockey clubs. I wore the clothes that came out to me from -London, and vied in fashion with Dr. Courtenay and other macaronies. And -I drove a carriage of mine own, the Carvel arms emblazoned thereon, and -Hugo in the family livery. - -After a deal of thought upon the subject, I decided, for a while at -least, to show no political leanings at all. And this was easier of -accomplishment than you may believe, for at that time in Maryland Tory -and Whig were amiable enough, and the young gentlemen of the first -families dressed alike and talked alike at the parties they both -attended. The non-importation association had scarce made itself felt in -the dress of society. Gentlemen of degree discussed differences amicably -over their decanters. And only on such occasions as Mr. Hood's return, -and the procession of the Lower House through the streets, and the -arrival of the Good Intent, did high words arise among the quality. And -it was because class distinctions were so strongly marked that it took -so long to bring loyalists and patriots of high rank to the sword's -point. - -I found time to manage such business affairs of Mr. Carvel's as he could -not attend to himself. Grafton and his family dined in Marlboro' Street -twice in the week; my uncle's conduct toward me was the very soul of -consideration, and he compelled that likewise from his wife and his son. -So circumspect was he that he would have fooled one who knew him a -whit less than I. He questioned me closely upon my studies, and in my -grandfather's presence I was forced to answer. And when the rector came -to dine and read to Mr. Carvel, my uncle catechised him so searchingly -on my progress that he was pushed to the last source of his ingenuity -for replies. More than once was I tempted to blurt out the whole -wretched business, for I well understood there was some deep game -between him and Grafton. In my uncle's absence, my aunt never lost a -chance for an ill-natured remark upon Patty, whom she had seen that -winter at the assemblies and elsewhere. And she deplored the state our -people of fashion were coming to, that they allowed young girls without -family to attend their balls. - -“But we can expect little else, father,” she would say to Mr. Carvel -nodding in his chair, “when some of our best families openly espouse the -pernicious doctrines of republicanism. They are gone half mad over that -Wilkes who should have been hung before this. Philip, dear, pour the -wine for your grandfather.” - -Miss Patty had been well received. I took her to her first assembly, -where her simple and unassuming ways had made her an instant favourite; -and her face, which had the beauty of dignity and repose even so early -in life, gained her ample attention. I think she would have gone but -little had not her father laughed her out of some of her domesticity. -No longer at Sunday night supper in Gloucester Street was the guest seat -empty. There was more than one guest seat now, and the honest barrister -himself was the most pleased at the change. As I took my accustomed -place on the settle cushion,--Patty's first embroidery,--he would cry: - -“Heigho, Richard, our little Miss Prim hath become a belle. And I must -have another clerk now to copy out my briefs, and a housekeeper soon, i' -faith.” - -Patty would never fail to flush up at the words, and run to perch on her -father's knee and put her hand over his mouth. - -“How can you, Mr. Swain?” says she; “how can you, when 'tis you and -mother, and Richard here, who make me go into the world? You know I -would a thousand times rather bake your cakes and clean your silver! But -you will not hear of it.” - -“Fie!” says the barrister. “Listen to her, Richard! And yet she will fly -up the stairs to don a fine gown at the first rap of the knocker. Oh, -the wenches, the wenches! Are they not all alike, mother?” - -“They have changed none since I was a lass,” replies the quiet invalid, -with a smile. “And you should know what I was, Henry.” - -“I know!” cries he; “none better. Well I recall the salmon and white -your mother gave you before I came to Salem.” He sighed and then laughed -at the recollection. “And when this strapping young Singleton comes, -Richard, 'twould do you good to be hiding there in that cupboard,--and -it would hold you,--and count the seconds until Miss Prim has her skirt -in her hand and her foot on the lower step. And yet how innocent is she -now before you and me.” - -Here he would invariably be smothered. - -“Percy Singleton!” says Patty, with a fine scorn; “'twill be Mr. -Eglinton, the curate, next.” - -“This I know,” says her father, slapping me on the shoulder, “this I -know, that you are content to see Richard without primping.” - -“But I have known Richard since I was six,” says she. “Richard is one of -the family. There is no need of disguise from him.” - -I thought, ruefully enough, that it seemed my fate to be one of the -family everywhere I went. - -And just then, as if in judgment, the gate snapped and the knocker -sounded, and Patty leaped down with a blush. “What said I say?” cries -the barrister. “I have not seen human nature in court for naught. Run, -now,” says he, pinching her cheek as she stood hesitating whether to fly -or stay; “run and put on the new dress I have bought you. And Richard -and I will have a cup of ale in the study.” - -The visitor chanced to be Will Fotheringay that time. He was not the -only one worn out with the mad chase in Prince George Street, and -preferred a quiet evening with a quiet beauty to the crowded lists of -Miss Manners. Will declared that the other gallants were fools over the -rare touch of blue in the black hair: give him Miss Swain's, quoth he, -lifting his glass,--hers was; the colour of a new sovereign. Will was -not, the only one. But I think Percy Singleton was the best of them all, -tho' Patty ridiculed him--every chance she got, and even to his face. -So will: the best-hearted and soberest of women play the coquette. -Singleton was rather a reserved young Englishman of four and twenty, -who owned a large estate in Talbot which he was laying out with great -success. Of a Whig family in the old country, he had been drawn to that -party in the new, and so, had made Mr. Swain's acquaintance. The next -step in his fortunes was to fall in love with Patty, which was natural -enough. Many a night that winter I walked with him from Gloucester -Street to the Coffee House, to sit an hour over, a battle. And there -Master Tom and Dr. Hamilton, and other gay macaronies would sometimes -join us. Singleton had a greater contempt for Tom than I, but bore with -him for his sister's sake. For Tom, in addition to his other follies, -was become an open loyalist, and never missed his Majesty's health, -though he knew no better than my Hugo the question at issue. 'Twas -not zeal for King George, however, that made him drunk at one of the -assemblies, and forced his sister to leave in the midst of a dance for -very shame. - -“Oh, Richard, is, there not something you can do?” she cried, when, I -had got her back in the little parlour in Gloucester Street; “father -has argued and, pleaded and threatened in vain. I thought,--I thought -perhaps you might help him.” - -“I think I am not one to preach, or to boast,” I replied soberly. - -“Yes,” said she, looking grave; “I know you are wilder than you used to -be; that you play more than you ought, and higher than you ought.” - -I was silent. - -“And I suspect at whose door it lies,” said she. - -“'Tis in the blood, Patty,” I answered. - -She glanced at me quickly. - -“I know you better than you think,” she said. “But Tom has not your -excuse. And if he had only your faults I would say nothing. He does not -care for those he should, and he is forever in the green-room of the -theatre.” - -I made haste to change the subject, and to give her what comfort I -might; for she was sobbing before she finished. And the next day I gave -Tom a round talking-to for having so little regard for his sister, the -hem of whose skirt he was not worthy to touch. He took it meekly enough, -with a barrel of pat excuses to come after. And he asked me to lend -him my phaeton, that he might go a-driving with Miss Crane, of the -theatrical company, to Round Bay! - -Meanwhile I saw Miss Manners more frequently than was good for my peace -of mind, and had my turn as her partner at the balls. But I could not -bring myself to take third or fourth rank in the army that attended her. -I, who had been her playmate, would not become her courtier. Besides, I -had not the wit. - -Was it strange that Dr. Courtenay should pride himself upon the -discovery of a new beauty? And in the Coffee House, and in every -drawing-room in town, prophesy for her a career of conquest such as few -could boast? She was already launched upon that career. And rumour -had it that Mr. Marmaduke was even then considering taking her home -to London, where the stage was larger and the triumph greater. Was it -surprising that the Gazette should contain a poem with the doctor's -well-known ear-marks upon it? It set the town a-wagging, and left no -room for doubt as to who had inspired it. - - “Sweet Pandora, tho' formed of Clay, - Was fairer than the Light of Day. - By Venus learned in Beauty's Arts, - And destined thus to conquer Hearts. - A Goddess of this Town, I ween, - Fair as Pandora, scarce Sixteen, - Is destined, e'en by Jove's Command, - To conquer all of Maryland. - Oh, Bachelors, play have a Care, - For She will all your Hearts ensnare.” - -So it ran. I think, if dear Mrs. Manners could have had her way, Dolly -would have passed that year at a certain young ladies' school in New -York. But Mr. Marmaduke's pride in his daughter's beauty got the better -of her. The strut in his gait became more marked the day that poem -appeared, and he went to the Coffee House both morning and evening, -taking snuff to hide his emotions when Miss Manners was spoken of; and -he was perceived by many in Church Street arm in arm with Dr. Courtenay -himself. - -As you may have imagined before now, the doctor's profession was -leisure, not medicine. He had known ambition once, it was said, and with -reason, for he had studied surgery in Germany for the mere love of the -science. After which, making the grand tour in France and Italy, he had -taken up that art of being a gentleman in which men became so proficient -in my young days. He had learned to speak French like a Parisian, had -hobnobbed with wit and wickedness from Versailles to Rome, and then had -come back to Annapolis to set the fashions and to spend the fortune -his uncle lately had left him. He was our censor of beauty, and passed -judgment upon all young ladies as they stepped into the arena. To be -noticed by him meant success; to be honoured in the Gazette was to be -crowned at once a reigning belle. The chord of his approval once set -a-vibrating, all minor chords sang in harmony. And it was the doctor who -raised the first public toast to Miss Manners. Alas! I might have known -it would be so! - -But Miss Dorothy was not of a nature to remain dependent upon a censor's -favour. The minx deported herself like any London belle of experience, -as tho' she had known the world from her cradle. She was not to -be deceived by the face value of the ladies' praises, nor rebuffed -unmercifully by my Aunt Caroline, who had held the sceptre in the -absence of a younger aspirant. The first time these ladies clashed, -which was not long in coming, my aunt met with a wit as sharp again as -her own, and never afterwards essayed an open tilt. The homage of men -Dolly took as Caesar received tribute, as a matter of course. The doctor -himself rode to the races beside the Manners coach, leaning gallantly -over the door. My lady held court in her father's box, received -and dismissed, smiled and frowned, with Courtenay as her master of -ceremonies. Mr. Dulany was one of the presidents of the Jockey Club -that year, and his horse winning the honours he presented her with his -colours, scarlet and white, which she graciously wore. The doctor swore -he would import a horse the next season on the chance of the privilege. -My aunt was furious. I have never mentioned her beauty because I never -could see it. 'Twas a coarser type than attracted me. She was then not -greatly above six and thirty, appearing young for that age, and she knew -the value of lead in judicious quantity. At that meet gentlemen came to -her box only to tally of Miss Manners, to marvel that one so young could -have the 'bel air', to praise her beauty and addresse, or to remark -how well Mr. Durlany's red and white became her. With all of which Mrs. -Grafton was fain to agree, and must even excel, until her small stock of -patience was exhausted. To add to her chagrin my aunt lost a pretty -sum to the rector by Mr. Dulany's horse. I came upon her after the race -trying to coax her head-dress, through her coach door, Mr. Allen having -tight hold of her hand the while. - -“And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does: he?” I overheard her -saying: “I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay's motions. Were -he, to choose, a wench out of the King's passengers I'd warrant -our macaronies to compose odes to her eyebrows.” And at that moment -perceiving me she added, “Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew? Miss -Dolly is the craze now, and will last about as long as another of the -doctor's whims. And then you shall have her to yourself.” - -“A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline,” I said. - -“Hoity-toity,” returned my aunt, who had by then succeeded in getting -her head-gear safe within; “the fashion, yes until a prettier comes -along.” - -“There is small danger of that for the present,” I said, smiling: -“Surely you can find no fault with this choice!” - -“Gadzooks! If I were blind, sir, I think I might!” she cried -unguardedly. - -“I will not dispute that, Aunt Caroline,” I answered. - -And as I rode off I heard her giving directions in no mild tone to the -coachman through Mr. Allen. - -Perchance you did not know, my dears, that Annapolis had the first -theatre in all the colonies. And if you care to search through the heap -of Maryland Gazettes in the garret, I make no doubt you will come across -this announcement for a certain night in the spring of the year 1769: - - By Permission of his Excellency, the Governor, - at the New Theatre in Annapolis, - by the American Company of Comedians, on Monday - next, being the 22nd of this Instant, will be performed - - ROMEO AND JULIET. - - (Romeo by a young Gentleman for his Diversion.) - Likewise the Farce called - - MISS IN HER TEENS. - - To begin precisely at Seven of the Clock. Tickets - to be had at the Printing Office. Box 10s. Pit 1s 6d. - No Person to be admitted behind the Scenes. - - -The gentleman to perform Romeo was none other than Dr. Courtenay -himself. He had a gentlemanly passion for the stage, as was the fashion -in those days, and had organized many private theatricals. The town was -in a ferment over the event, boxes being taken a week ahead. The doctor -himself writ the epilogue, to be recited by the beautiful Mrs. Hallam, -who had inspired him the year before to compose that famous poem -beginning: - - “Around her see the Graces play, - See Venus' Wanton doves, - And in her Eye's Pellucid Ray - See little Laughing Loves. - Ye gods! 'Tis Cytherea's Face.” - - -You may find that likewise in Mr. Green's newspaper. - -The new theatre was finished in West Street that spring, the old one -having proven too small for our gay capital. 'Twas then the best in -the New World, the censor having pronounced it far above any provincial -playhouse he had seen abroad. The scenes were very fine, the boxes -carved and gilded in excellent good taste, and both pit and gallery -commodious. And we, too, had our “Fops' Alley,” where our macaronies -ogled the fair and passed from box to box. - -For that night of nights when the doctor acted I received an invitation -from Dolly to Mr. Marmaduke's box, and to supper afterward in Prince -George Street. When I arrived, the playhouse was lit with myriad -candles,--to be snuffed save the footlights presently,--and the tiers -were all brilliant with the costumes of ladies and gentlemen. Miss -Tayloe and Miss Dulany were of our party, with Fitzhugh and Worthington, -and Mr. Manners for propriety. The little fop spent his evening, by the -way, in a box opposite, where my Aunt Caroline gabbled to him and Mr. -Allen during the whole performance. My lady got more looks than any in -the house. She always drew admiration; indeed, but there had been much -speculation of late whether she favoured Dr. Courtenay or Fitzhugh, and -some had it that the doctor's acting would decide between the two. - -When Romeo came upon the stage he was received with loud applause. -But my lady showed no interest,--not she, while the doctor fervently -recited, “Out of her favour, where I am in love.” In the first orchard -scene, with the boldness of a practised lover, he almost ignored Mrs. -Hallam in the balcony. It seemed as though he cast his burning words and -languishing glances at my lady in the box, whereupon there was a deal of -nudging round about. Miss asked for her smelling salts, and declared the -place was stifling. But I think if the doctor had cherished a hope of -her affections he lost it when he arrived at the lines, “She speaks, -yet she says nothing.” At that unhappy moment Miss Dorothy was deep in -conversation with Fitzhugh, the audible titter in the audience arousing -her. How she reddened when she perceived the faces turned her way! - -“What was it, Betty?” she demanded quickly. - -But Betty was not spiteful, and would not tell. Fitzhugh himself -explained, and to his sorrow, for during the rest of the evening she -would have nothing to do with him. Presently she turned to me. Glancing -upward to where Patty leaned on the rail between Will Fotheringay and -Singleton, she whispered: - -“I wonder you can sit here so quiet, Richard. You are showing a deal of -self-denial.” - -“I am happy enough,” I answered, surprised. - -“I hear you have a rival,” says she. - -“I know I have a dozen,” I answered. - -“I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway's fields but -yesterday,” said Dolly, “and as they came out upon the road they looked -as guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm.” - -Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head. I was -thrown all in a heap. - -“You need not be so disturbed,” whispers my lady. “Singleton has a -crooked mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between -you. I adore her, Richard. I wish I had her sweet ways.” - -“But,” I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, “why should you -think me in love with Patty? I have never been accused of that before.” - -“Oh, fie! You deny her?” says Dolly. “I did not think that of you, -Richard.” - -“You should know better,” I replied, with some bitterness. - -We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage, -whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And -though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me -through and through. - -“You do not care for Patty?” she whispered. And I thought a quiver of -earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her -breath fanned my cheek. - -“No,” I said. “Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make -pretences?” - -She turned away. - -“But you,” I said, bending to her ear, “is it Fitzhugh, Dorothy?” - -I heard her laugh softly. - -“No,” said she, “I thought you might divine, sir.” - -Was it possible? And yet she had played so much with me that I dared -not risk the fire. She had too many accomplished gallants at her feet -to think of Richard, who had no novelty and no wit. I sat still, barely -conscious of the rising and falling voices beyond the footlights, -feeling only her living presence at my side. She spoke not another word -until the playhouse servants had relighted the chandeliers, and Dr. -Courtenay came in, flushed with triumph, for his mead of praise. - -“And how went it, Miss Manners?” says he, very confident. - -“Why, you fell over the orchard wall, doctor,” retorts my lady. “La! I -believe I could have climbed it better myself.” - -And all he got was a hearty laugh for his pains, Mr. Marmaduke joining -in from the back of the box. And the story was at the Coffee House early -on the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. A FESTIVAL AND A PARTING - -My grandfather and I were seated at table together. It was early June, -the birds were singing in the garden, and the sweet odours of the -flowers were wafted into the room. - -“Richard,” says he, when Scipio had poured his claret, “my illness -cheated you out of your festival last year. I dare swear you deem -yourself too old for birthdays now.” - -I laughed. - -“So it is with lads,” said Mr. Carvel; “they will rush into manhood as -heedless as you please. Take my counsel, boy, and remain young. Do not -cross the bridge before you have to. And I have been thinking that we -shall have your fete this year, albeit you are grown, and Miss Dolly is -the belle of the province. 'Tis like sunshine into my old heart to see -the lads and lasses again, and to hear the merry, merry fiddling. I will -have his new Excellency, who seems a good and a kindly man, and Lloyd -and Tilghman and Dulany and the rest, with their ladies, to sit with me. -And there will be plenty of punch and syllabub and sangaree, I warrant; -and tarts and jellies and custards, too, for the misses. Ring for Mrs. -Willis, my son.” - -Willis came with her curtsey to the old gentleman, who gave his order -then and there. He never waited for a fancy of this kind to grow cold. - -“We shall all be children again, on that day, Mrs. Willis,” says he. -“And I catch any old people about, they shall be thrust straight in the -town stocks, i' faith.” - -Willis made another curtsey. - -“We missed it sorely, last year, please your honour,” says she, and -departs smiling. - -“And you shall have your Patty Swain, Richard,” Mr. Carvel continued. -“Do you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place -of a present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel. -And I love that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath -demureness and dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage -you are all mad over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too. I'll warrant -I'd teach his daughter loyalty in a day, and I had again your years and -your spirit!” - -I have but to close my eyes, and my fancy takes me back to that birthday -festival. Think of it, my dears! Near threescore years are gone -since then, when this old man you call grandfather, and some--bless -me!--great-grandfather, was a lusty lad like Comyn here. But his hand is -steady as he writes these words and his head clear, because he hath not -greatly disabused that life which God has given him. - -How can I, tho' her face and form are painted on my memory, tell you -what fair, pert Miss Dorothy was at that time'! Ay, I know what you -would say: that Sir Joshua's portrait hangs above, executed but the year -after, and hung at the second exhibition of the Royal Academy. As I look -upon it now, I say that no whit of its colour is overcharged. And there -is likewise Mr. Peale's portrait, done much later. I answer that these -great masters have accomplished what poor, human art can do. But Nature -hath given us a better picture. “Come hither, Bess! Yes, truly, you have -Dolly's hair, with the very gloss upon it. But fashions have changed, -my child, and that is not as Dolly wore it.” Whereupon Bess goes to the -portrait, and presently comes back to give me a start. And then we go -hand in hand up the stairs of Calvert House even to the garret, where an -old cedar chest is laid away under the eaves. Bess, the minx, well knows -it, and takes out a prim little gown with the white fading yellow, and -white silk mits without fingers, and white stockings with clocks, and -a gauze cap, with wings and streamers, that sits saucily on the black -locks; and the lawn-embroidered apron; and such dainty, high-heeled -slippers with the pearls still a-glisten upon the buckles. Away she -flies to put them on. And then my heart gives a leap to see my Dorothy -back again,--back again as she was that June afternoon we went together -to my last birthday party, her girlish arms bare to the elbow, and the -lace about her slender throat. Yes, Bess hath the very tilt of her chin, -the regal grace of that slim figure, and the deep blue eyes. - -“Grandfather, dear, you are crushing the gown!” - -And so the fire is not yet gone out of this old frame. - -Ah, yes, there they are again, those unpaved streets of old Annapolis -arched with great trees on either side. And here is Dolly, holding her -skirt in one hand and her fan in the other, and I in a brave blue coat, -and pumps with gold buttons, and a cocked hat of the newest fashion. I -had met her leaning over the gate in Prince George Street. And, what -was strange for her, so deep in thought that she jumped when I spoke her -name. - -“Dorothy, I have come for you to walk to the party, as we used when we -were children.” - -“As we used when we were children!” cried she. And flinging wide the -gate, stretched out her hand for me to take. “And you are eighteen years -to-day! It seems but last year when we skipped hand in hand to Marlboro' -Street with Mammy Lucy behind us. Are you coming, mammy?” she called. - -“Yes, mistis, I'se comin',” said a voice from behind the golden-rose -bushes, and out stepped Aunt Lucy in a new turban, making a curtsey to -me. “La, Marse Richard!” said she, “to think you'se growed to be a -fine gemman! 'Taint but t'other day you was kissin' Miss Dolly on de -plantation.” - -“It seems longer than that to me, Aunt Lucy,” I answered, laughing at -Dolly's blushes. - -“You have too good a memory, mammy,” said my lady, withdrawing her -fingers from mine. - -“Bress you, honey! De ole woman doan't forgit some things.” - -And she fell back to a respectful six paces. - -“Those were happy times,” said Dorothy. Then the little sigh became a -laugh. “I mean to enjoy myself to-day, Richard. But I fear I shall not -see as much of you as I used. You are old enough to play the host, now.” - -“You shall see as much as you will.” - -“Where have you been of late, sir? In Gloucester Street?” - -“'Tis your own fault, Dolly. You are changeable as the sky,--to-day -sunny, and to-morrow cold. I am sure of my welcome in Gloucester -Street.” - -She tripped a step as we turned the corner, and came closer to my side. - -“You must learn to take me as you find me, dear Richard. To-day I am in -a holiday humour.” - -Some odd note in her tone troubled me, and I glanced at her quickly. She -was a constant wonder and puzzle to me. After that night at the theatre -my hopes had risen for the hundredth time, but I had gone to Prince -George Street on the morrow to meet another rebuff--and Fitzhugh. So I -had learned to interpret her by other means than words, and now her mood -seemed reckless rather than merry. - -“Are you not happy, Dolly?” I asked abruptly. - -She laughed. “What a silly question!” she said. “Why do you ask?” - -“Because I believe you are not.” - -In surprise she looked up at me, and then down at the pearls upon her -satin slippers. - -“I am going with you to your birthday festival, Richard. Could we wish -for more? I am as happy as you.” - -“That may well be, for I might be happier.” - -Again her eyes met mine, and she hummed an air. So we came to the gate, -beside which stood Diomedes and Hugo in the family claret-red. A coach -was drawn up, and another behind it, and we went down the leafy walk in -the midst of a bevy of guests. - -We have no such places nowadays, my dears, as was my grandfather's. The -ground between the street and the brick wall in the rear was a great -stretch, as ample in acreage as many a small country-place we have in -these times. The house was on the high land in front, hedged in by old -trees, and thence you descended by stately tiers until you came to the -level which held the dancers. Beyond that, and lower still, a -lilied pond widened out of the sluggish brook with a cool and rustic -spring-house at one end. The spring-house was thatched, with windows -looking out upon the water. Long after, when I went to France, I was -reminded of the shy beauty of this part of my old home by the secluded -pond of the Little Trianon. So was it that King Louis's Versailles had -spread its influence a thousand leagues to our youthful continent. - -My grandfather sat in his great chair on the sward beside the fiddlers, -his old friends gathering around him, as in former years. - -“And this is the miss that hath already broken half the bachelor hearts -in town!” said he, gayly. “What was my prediction, Miss Dolly, when you -stepped your first dance at Carvel Hall?” - -“Indeed, you do me wrong, Mr. Carvel!” - -“And I were a buck, you would not break mine, I warrant, unless it were -tit for tat,” said my grandfather; thereby putting me to more confusion -than Dolly, who laughed with the rest. - -“'Tis well to boast, Mr. Carvel, when we are out of the battle,” cried -Mr. Lloyd. - -Dolly was carried off immediately, as I expected. The doctor and -Worthington and Fitzhugh were already there, and waiting. I stood by Mr. -Carvel's chair, receiving the guests, and presently came Mr. Swain and -Patty. - -“Heigho!” called Mr. Carvel, when he saw her; “here is the young lady -that hath my old affections. You are right welcome, Mr. Swain. Scipio, -another chair! 'Tis not over the wall any more, Miss Patty, with our -flowered India silk. But I vow I love you best with your etui.” - -Patty, too, was carried off, for you may be sure that Will Fotheringay -and Singleton were standing on one foot and then the other, waiting for -Mr. Carvel to have done. Next arrived my aunt, in a wide calash and a -wider hoop, her stays laced so that she limped, and her hair wonderfully -and fearfully arranged by her Frenchman. Neither she nor Grafton was -slow to shower congratulations upon my grandfather and myself. Mr. -Marmaduke went through the ceremony after them. Dorothy's mother drew me -aside. As long as I could remember her face had been one that revealed a -life's disappointment. But to-day I thought it bore a trace of a deeper -anxiety. - -“How well I recall this day, eighteen years ago, Richard,” she said. -“And how proud your dear mother was that she had given a son to Captain -Jack. She had prayed for a son. I hope you will always do your parents -credit, my dear boy. They were both dear, dear friends of mine.” - -My Aunt Caroline's harsher voice interrupted her. - -“Gadzooks, ma'am!” she cried, as she approached us, “I have never in -my life laid eyes upon such beauty as your daughter's. You will have to -take her home, Mrs. Manners, to do her justice. You owe it her, ma'am. -Come, nephew, off with you, and head the minuet with Miss Dolly!” - -My grandfather was giving the word to the fiddlers. But whether a desire -to cross my aunt held me back, or a sense of duty to greet the guests -not already come, or a vague intuition of some impending news drawn from -Mrs. Manners and Dorothy, I know not. Mr. Fitzhugh was easily persuaded -to take my place, and presently I slipped unnoticed into a shaded -seat on the side of the upper terrace, whence I could see the changing -figures on the green. And I thought of the birthday festivals Dolly and -I had spent here, almost since we were of an age to walk. Wet June days, -when the broad wings of the house rang with the sound of silver laughter -and pattering feet, and echoed with music from the hall; and merry -June days, when the laughter rippled among the lilacs, and pansies and -poppies and sweet peas were outshone by bright gowns and brighter faces. -And then, as if to complete the picture of the past, my eye fell upon -our mammies modestly seated behind the group of older people, Aunt -Hester and Aunt Lucy, their honest, black faces aglow with such -unselfish enjoyment as they alone could feel. - -How easily I marked Dorothy among the throng! - -Other girls found it hard to compress the spirits of youth within the -dignity of a minuet, and thought of the childish romp of former years. -Not so my lady. Long afterwards I saw her lead a ball with the first -soldier and gentleman of the land, but on that Tuesday she carried -herself full as well, so well that his Excellency and the gentlemen -about him applauded heartily. As the strains died away and the couples -moved off among the privet-lined paths, I went slowly down the terrace. -Dorothy had come up to speak to her mother, Dr. Courtenay lingering -impatient at her side. And though her colour glowed deeper, and the wind -had loosed a wisp of her hair, she took his Excellency's compliments -undisturbed. Colonel Sharpe, our former governor, who now made his home -in the province, sat beside him. - -“Now where a-deuce were you, Richard?” said he. “You have missed as -pleasing a sight as comes to a man in a lifetime. Why were you not here -to see Miss Manners tread a minuet? My word! Terpsichore herself could -scarce have made it go better.” - -“I saw the dance, sir, from a safe distance,” I replied. - -“I'll warrant!” said he, laughing, while Dolly shot me a wayward glance -from under her long lashes. “I'll warrant your eyes were fast on her -from beginning to end. Come, sir, confess!” - -His big frame shook with the fun of it, for none in the colony could -be jollier than he on holiday occasions: and the group of ladies and -gentlemen beside him caught the infection, so that I was sore put to it. - -“Will your Excellency confess likewise?” I demanded. - -“So I will, Richard, and make patent to all the world that she hath the -remains of that shuttlecock, my heart.” - -Up gets his Excellency (for so we still called him) and makes Dolly a -low reverence, kissing the tips of her white fingers. My lady drops a -mock curtsey in return. - -“Your Excellency can do no less than sue for a dance,” drawled Dr. -Courtenay. - -“And no more, I fear, sir, not being so nimble as I once was. I resign -in your favour, doctor,” said Colonel Sharpe. - -Dr. Courtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had -much to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been -governor of the province could command her. The music was just begun -again, and I making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was -brought up as suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips. - -“The dance belongs to Richard, doctor,” she said. - -“Egad, Courtenay, there you have a buffer!” cried Colonel Sharpe, as -the much-discomfited doctor bowed with a very ill grace; while I, in no -small bewilderment, walked off with Dorothy. And a parting shot of the -delighted colonel brought the crimson to my face. Like the wind or April -weather was my lady, and her ways far beyond such a great simpleton as -I. - -“So I am ever forced to ask you to dance!” said Dolly. - -“What were you about, moping off alone, with a party in your honour, -sir?” - -“I was watching you, as I told his Excellency.” - -“Oh, fie!” she cried. “Why don't you assert yourself, Richard? There was -a time when you gave me no peace.” - -“And then you rebuked me for dangling,” I retorted. - -Up started the music, the fiddlers bending over their bows with flushed -faces, having dipped into the cool punch in the interval. Away flung -my lady to meet Singleton, while I swung Patty, who squeezed my hand in -return. And soon we were in the heat of it,--sober minuet no longer, but -romp and riot, the screams of the lasses a-mingle with our own laughter, -as we spun them until they were dizzy. My brain was a-whirl as well, and -presently I awoke to find Dolly pinching my arm. - -“Have you forgotten me, Richard?” she whispered. “My other hand, sir. It -is I down the middle.” - -Down we flew between the laughing lines, Dolly tripping with her head -high, and then back under the clasped hands in the midst of a fire -of raillery. Then the music stopped. Some strange exhilaration was in -Dorothy. - -“Do you remember the place where I used to play fairy godmother, and -wind the flowers into my hair?” said she. - -What need to ask? - -“Come!” she commanded decisively. - -“With all my heart!” I exclaimed, wondering at this new caprice. - -“If we can but slip away unnoticed, they will never find us there,” she -said. And led the way herself, silent. At length we came to the damp -shade where the brook dived under the corner of the wall. I stooped to -gather the lilies of the valley, and she wove them into her hair as of -old. Suddenly she stopped, the bunch poised in her hand. - -“Would you miss me if I went away, Richard?” she asked, in a low voice. - -“What do you mean, Dolly?” I cried, my voice failing. “Just that,” said -she. - -“I would miss you, and sorely, tho' you give me trouble enough.” - -“Soon I shall not be here to trouble you, Richard. Papa has decided that -we sail next week, on the Annapolis, for home.” - -“Home!” I gasped. “England?” - -“I am going to make my bow to royalty,” replied she, dropping a deep -curtsey. “Your Majesty, this is Miss Manners, of the province of -Maryland!” - -“But next week!” I repeated, with a blank face. “Surely you cannot be -ready for the Annapolis!” - -“McAndrews has instructions to send our things after,” said she. “There! -You are the first person I have told. You should feel honoured, sir.” - -I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap -of life seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. -Through the trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness -far away. When I looked up again, she was gazing into the water. - -“Are you glad to go?” I asked. - -“Of course,” answered the minx, readily. “I shall see the world, and -meet people of consequence.” - -“So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!” I cried -bitterly. - -“How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we -here? The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth! -There is not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and -Virginia is scarce better provided.” - -“In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that -she had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself. - -“All in good time,” said I. “We shall have no lack of noted men -presently.” - -“Mere two-penny heroes,” she retorted. “I know your great men, such as -Mr. Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams.” - -I began pulling up the grass savagely by the roots. - -“I'll lay a hundred guineas you have no regrets at leaving any of us, my -fine miss!” I cried, getting to my feet. “You would rather be a lady of -fashion than have the love of an honest man,--you who have the hearts of -too many as it is.” - -Her eyes lighted, but with mirth. Laughing, she chose a little bunch of -the lilies and worked them into my coat. - -“Richard, you silly goose!” she said; “I dote upon seeing you in a -temper.” - -I stood between anger and God knows what other feelings, now starting -away, now coming back to her. But I always came back. - -“You have ever said you would marry an earl, Dolly,” I said sadly. “I -believe you do not care for any of us one little bit.” - -She turned away, so that for the moment I could not see her face, then -looked at me with exquisite archness over her shoulder. The low tones of -her voice were of a richness indescribable. 'Twas seldom she made use of -them. - -“You will be coming to Oxford, Richard.” - -“I fear not, Dolly,” I replied soberly. “I fear not, now. Mr. Carvel is -too feeble for me to leave him.” - -At that she turned to me, another mood coming like a gust of wind on the -Chesapeake. - -“Oh, how I wish they were all like you!” she cried, with a stamp of her -foot. “Sometimes I despise gallantry. I hate the smooth compliments of -your macaronies. I thank Heaven you are big and honest and clumsy and--” - -“And what, Dorothy?” I asked, bewildered. - -“And stupid,” said she. “Now take me back, sir.” - -We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice -singing: - - “'It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino.'” - -And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. - - -And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why -not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me -pacing the deserted dock. At my back, across the open space, was the -irregular line of quaint, top-heavy shops since passed away, their -sightless windows barred by solid shutters of oak. The good ship -Annapolis, which was to carry my playmate to broader scenes, lay among -the shipping, in the gray roads just quickening with returning light. -How my heart ached that morning none shall ever know. But, as the sun -shot a burning line across the water, a new salt breeze sprang up and -fanned a hope into flame. 'Twas the very breeze that was to blow Dorothy -down the bay. Sleepy apprentices took down the shutters, and polished -the windows until they shone again; and chipper Mr. Denton Jacques, who -did such a thriving business opposite, presently appeared to wish me a -bright good morning. - -I knew that Captain Waring proposed to sail at ten of the clock; but -after breakfasting, I was of two minds whether to see the last of Miss -Dorothy, foreseeing a levee in her honour upon the ship. And so it -proved. I had scarce set out in a pungy from the dock, when I perceived -a dozen boats about the packet; and when I thrust my shoulders through -the gangway, there was the company gathered at the mainmast. They made -a gay bit of colour,--Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine -Mechlin, Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the -other gentlemen as smartly drest. The Dulany girls and the Fotheringay -girls, and I know not how many others, were there to see their friend -off for home. - -In the midst of them was Dorothy, in a crimson silk capuchin, for we -had had one of our changes of weather. It was she who spied me as I was -drawing down the ladder again. - -“It is Richard!” I heard her cry. “He has come at last.” - -I gripped the rope tightly, sprang to the deck, and faced her as she -came out of the group, her lips parted, and the red of her cheeks vying -with the hood she wore. I took her hand silently. - -“I had given you over, Richard,” she said, her eyes looking -reproachfully into mine. “Another ten minutes, and I should not have -seen you.” - -Indeed, the topsails were already off the caps, the captain on deck, and -the men gathered at the capstan. - -“Have you not enough to wish you good-by, Dolly?” I asked. - -“There must be a score of them,” said my lady, making a face. “But I -wish to talk to you.” - -Mr. Marmaduke, however, had no notion of allowing a gathering in his -daughter's honour to be broken up. It had been wickedly said of him, -when the news of his coming departure got around, that he feared Dorothy -would fall in love with some provincial beau before he could get her -within reach of a title. When he observed me talking to her, he hurried -away from the friends come to see his wife (he had none himself), -and seizing me by the arm implored me to take good care of my dear -grandfather, and to write them occasionally of the state of his health, -and likewise how I fared. - -“I think Dorothy will miss you more than any of them, Richard,” said he. -“Will you not, my dear?” - -But she was gone. I, too, left him without ceremony, to speak to Mrs. -Manners, who was standing apart, looking shoreward. She started when I -spoke, and I saw that tears were in her eyes. - -“Are you coming back soon, Mrs. Manners?” I asked. - -“Oh, Richard! I don't know,” she answered, with a little choke in her -voice. “I hope it will be no longer than a year, for we are leaving all -we hold dear for a very doubtful pleasure.” - -She bade me write to them, as Mr. Marmaduke had, only she was sincere. -Then the mate came, with his hand to his cap, respectfully to inform -visitors that the anchor was up and down. Albeit my spirits were low, -'twas no small entertainment to watch the doctor and his rivals at their -adieus. Courtenay had at his command an hundred subterfuges to outwit -his fellows, and so manoeuvred that he was the last of them over the -side. As for me, luckily, I was not worth a thought. But as the doctor -leaned over her hand, I vowed in my heart that if Dorothy was to be -gained only in such a way I would not stoop to it. And in my heart I -doubted it. I heard Dr. Courtenay hint, looking meaningly at her cloak, -that some of his flowers would not have appeared amiss there. - -“Why, doctor,” says my lady aloud, with a side glance at me, “the wisdom -of Solomon might not choose out of twenty baskets.” - -And this was all the thanks he got for near a boat-load of roses! When -at length the impatient mate had hurried him off, Dolly turned to me. It -was not in me to say more than: - -“Good-by, Dorothy. And do not forget your old playmate. He will never -forget you.” - -We stood within the gangway. With a quick movement she threw open her -cloak, and pinned to her gown I saw a faded bunch of lilies of the -valley. - -I had but the time to press her hand. The boatswain's pipe whistled, and -the big ship was already sliding in the water as I leaped into my pungy, -which Hugo was holding to the ladder. We pulled off to where the others -waited. - -But the Annapolis sailed away down the bay, and never another glimpse we -caught of my lady. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY - -If perchance, my dears, there creeps into this chronicle too much of an -old man's heart, I know he will be forgiven. What life ever worth living -has been without its tender attachment? Because, forsooth, my hair is -white now, does Bess flatter herself I do not know her secret? Or does -Comyn believe that these old eyes can see no farther than the spectacles -before them? Were it not for the lovers, my son, satins and broadcloths -had never been invented. And were it not for the lovers, what joys and -sorrows would we lack in our lives! - -That was a long summer indeed. And tho' Wilmot House was closed, I often -rode over of a morning when the dew was on the grass. It cheered me to -smoke a pipe with old McAndrews, Mr. Manners's factor, who loved to talk -of Miss Dorothy near as much as I. He had served her grandfather, and -people said that had it not been for McAndrews, the Manners fortune had -long since been scattered, since Mr. Marmaduke knew nothing of anything -that he should. I could not hear from my lady until near the first of -October, and so I was fain to be content with memories--memories and -hard work. For I had complete charge of the plantation now. - -My Uncle Grafton came twice or thrice, but without his family, Aunt -Caroline and Philip having declared their independence. My uncle's -manner to me was now of studied kindness, and he was at greater pains -than before to give me no excuse for offence. I had little to say to -him. He spent his visits reading to Mr. Carvel, who sat in his chair all -the day long. Mr. Allen came likewise, to perform the same office. - -My contempt for the rector was grown more than ever. On my grandfather's -account, however, I refrained from quarrelling with him. And, when we -were alone, my plain speaking did not seem to anger him, or affect -him in any way. Others came, too. Such was the affection Mr. Carvel's -friends bore him that they did not desert him when he was no longer -the companion he had been in former years. We had more company than the -summer before. - -In the autumn a strange thing happened. When we had taken my grandfather -to the Hall in June, his dotage seemed to settle upon him. He became a -trembling old man, at times so peevish that we were obliged to summon -with an effort what he had been. He was suspicious and fault-finding -with Scipio and the other servants, though they were never so busy for -his wants. Mrs. Willis's dainties were often untouched, and he would -frequently sit for hours between slumber and waking, or mumble to -himself as I read the prints. But about the time of the equinoctial a -great gale came out of the south so strongly that the water rose in -the river over the boat landing; and the roof was torn from one of the -curing-sheds. The next morning dawned clear, and brittle, and blue. To -my great surprise, Mr. Carvel sent for me to walk with him about the -place, that he might see the damage with his own eyes. A huge walnut had -fallen across the drive, and when he came upon it he stopped abruptly. - -“Old friend!” he cried, “have you succumbed? After all these years have -you dropped from the weight of a blow?” He passed his hand caressingly -along the trunk, and scarce ever had I seen him so affected. In truth, -for the instant I thought him deranged. He raised his cane above his -shoulder and struck the bark so heavily that the silver head sunk deep -into the wood. “Look you, Richard,” he said, the water coming into his -eyes, “look you, the heart of it is gone, lad; and when the heart is -rotten 'tis time for us to go. That walnut was a life friend, my son. -We have grown together,” he continued, turning from me to the giant and -brushing his cheeks, “but by God's good will we shall not die so, for my -heart is still as young as the days when you were sprouting.” - -And he walked back to the house more briskly than he had come, refusing, -for the first time, my arm. And from that day, I say, he began to mend. -The lacing of red came again to his cheeks, and before we went back to -town he had walked with me to Master Dingley's tavern on the highroad, -and back. - -We moved into Marlboro' Street the first part of November. I had seen my -lady off for England, wearing my faded flowers, the panniers of the fine -gentleman in a neglected pile at her cabin door. But not once had she -deigned to write me. It was McAndrews who told me of her safe arrival. -In Annapolis rumours were a-flying of conquests she had already made. I -found Betty Tayloe had had a letter, filled with the fashion in caps and -gowns, and the mention of more than one noble name. All of this being, -for unknown reasons, sacred, I was read only part of the postscript, in -which I figured: “The London Season was done almost before we arrived,” - so it ran. “We had but the Opportunity to pay our Humble Respects to -their Majesties; and appear at a few Drum-Majors and Garden Fetes. Now -we are off to Brighthelmstone, and thence, so Papa says, to Spa and the -Continent until the end of January. I am pining for news of Maryland, -dearest Betty. Address me in care of Mr. Ripley, Barrister, of Lincoln's -Inn, and bid Richard Carvel write me.” - -“Which does not look as if she were coming back within the year,” said -Betty, as she poured me a dish of tea. - -Alas, no! But I did not write. I tried and failed. And then I tried to -forget. I was constant at all the gayeties, gave every miss in town a -share of my attention, rode to hounds once a week at Whitehall or the -South River Club with a dozen young beauties. But cantering through the -winter mists 'twas Dolly, in her red riding-cloak and white beaver, I -saw beside me. None of them had her seat in the saddle, and none of them -her light hand on the reins. And tho' they lacked not fire and skill, -they had not my lady's dash and daring to follow over field and fallow, -stream and searing, and be in at the death with heightened colour, but -never a look away. - -Then came the first assembly of the year. I got back from Bentley Manor, -where I had been a-visiting the Fotheringays, just in time to call for -Patty in Gloucester Street. - -“Have you heard the news from abroad, Richard?” she asked, as I handed -her into my chariot. - -“Never a line,” I replied. - -“Pho!” exclaimed Patty; “you tell me that! Where have you been hiding? -Then you shall not have it from me.” - -I had little trouble, however, in persuading her. For news was a rare -luxury in those days, and Patty was plainly uncomfortable until she -should have it out. - -“I would not give you the vapours to-night for all the world, Richard,” - she exclaimed. “But if you must,--Dr. Courtenay has had a letter from -Mr. Manners, who says that Dolly is to marry his Grace of Chartersea. -There now!” - -“And I am not greatly disturbed,” I answered, with a fine, careless air. - -The lanthorn on the chariot was burning bright. And I saw Patty look at -me, and laugh. - -“Indeed!” says she; “what a sex is that to which you belong. How ready -are men to deny us at the first whisper! And I thought you the most -constant of all. For my part, I credit not a word of it. 'Tis one of Mr. -Marmaduke's lies and vanities.” - -“And for my part, I think it true as gospel,” I cried. “Dolly always -held a coronet above her colony, and all her life has dreamed of a -duke.” - -“Nay,” answered Patty, more soberly; “nay, you do her wrong. You will -discover one day that she is loyal to the core, tho' she has a fop of a -father who would serve his Grace's chocolate. We are all apt to talk, my -dear, and to say what we do not mean, as you are doing.” - -“Were I to die to-morrow, I would repeat it,” I exclaimed. But I liked -Patty the better for what she had said. - -“And there is more news, of less import,” she continued, as I was -silent. “The Thunderer dropped anchor in the roads to-day, and her -officers will be at the assembly. And Betty tells me there is a young -lord among them,--la! I have clean forgot the string of adjectives she -used,--but she would have had me know he was as handsome as Apollo, and -so dashing and diverting as to put Courtenay and all our wits to shame. -She dined with him at the Governor's.” - -I barely heard her, tho' I had seen the man-o'-war in the harbour as I -sailed in that afternoon. - -The assembly hall was filled when we arrived, aglow with candles and -a-tremble with music, the powder already flying, and the tables in the -recesses at either end surrounded by those at the cards. A lively scene, -those dances at the old Stadt House, but one I love best to recall with -a presence that endeared it to me. The ladies in flowered aprons and -caps and brocades and trains, and the gentlemen in brilliant coats, -trimmed with lace and stiffened with buckram. That night, as Patty had -predicted, there was a smart sprinkling of uniforms from the Thunderer. -One of those officers held my eye. He was as well-formed a lad, or man -(for he was both), as it had ever been my lot to see. He was neither -tall nor short, but of a good breadth. His fair skin was tanned by the -weather, and he wore his own wavy hair powdered, as was just become the -fashion, and tied with a ribbon behind. - -“Mercy, Richard, that must be his Lordship. Why, his good looks are all -Betty claimed for them!” exclaimed Patty. Mr. Lloyd, who was standing -by, overheard her, and was vastly amused at her downright way. - -“I will fetch him directly, Miss Swain,” said he, “as I have done for a -dozen ladies before you.” And fetch him he did. - -“Miss Swain, this is my Lord Comyn,” said he. “Your Lordship, one of the -boasts of our province.” - -Patty grew red as the scarlet with which his Lordship's coat was lined. -She curtseyed, while he made a profound bow. - -“What! Another boast, Mr. Lloyd!” he cried. “Miss Swain is the tenth I -have met. But I vow they excel as they proceed.” - -“Then you must meet no more, my Lord,” said Patty, laughing at Mr. -Lloyd's predicament. - -“Egad, then, I will not,” declared Comyn. “I protest I am satisfied.” - -Then I was presented. He had won me on the instant with his open smile -and frank, boyish manner. - -“And this is young Mr. Carvel, whom I hear wins every hunt in the -colony?” said he. - -“I fear you have been misinformed, my Lord,” I replied, flashing with -pleasure nevertheless. - -“Nay, my Lord,” Mr. Lloyd struck in; “Richard could ride down the devil -himself, and he were a fox. You will see for yourself to-morrow.” - -“I pray we may not start the devil,” said his Lordship; “or I shall be -content to let Mr. Carvel run him down.” - -This Comyn was a man after my own fancy, as, indeed, he took the fancy -of every one at the ball. Though a viscount in his own right, he -gave himself not half the airs over us provincials as did many of his -messmates. Even Mr. Jacques, who was sour as last year's cider over the -doings of Parliament, lost his heart, and asked why we were not favoured -in America with more of his sort. - -By a great mischance Lord Comyn had fallen into the tender clutches -of my Aunt Caroline. It seemed she had known his uncle, the Honourable -Arthur Comyn, in New York; and now she undertook to be responsible for -his Lordship's pleasure at Annapolis, that he might meet only those of -the first fashion. Seeing him talking to Patty, my aunt rose abruptly -from her loo and made toward us, all paint and powder and patches, her -chin in the air, which barely enabled her to look over Miss Swain's -head. - -“My Lord,” she cries, “I will show you our colonial reel, which is about -to begin, and I warrant you is gayer than any dance you have at home.” - -“Your very devoted, Mrs. Carvel,” says his Lordship, with a bow, “but -Miss Swain has done me the honour.” - -“O Lud!” cries my aunt, sweeping the room, “I vow I cannot keep pace -with the misses nowadays. Is she here?” - -“She was but a moment since, ma'am,” replied Comyn, instantly, with -a mischievous look at me, while poor Patty stood blushing not a yard -distant. - -There were many who overheard, and who used their fans and their napkins -to hide their laughter at the very just snub Mrs. Grafton had received. -And I wondered at the readiness with which he had read her character, -liking him all the better. But my aunt was not to be disabled by -this,--not she. After the dance she got hold of him, keeping him until -certain designing ladies with daughters took him away; their names -charity forbids me to mention. But in spite of them all he contrived to -get Patty for supper, when I took Betty Tayloe, and we were very merry -at table together. His Lordship proved more than able to take care of -himself, and contrived to send Philip about his business when he pulled -up a chair beside us. He drank a health to Miss Swain, and another to -Miss Tayloe, and was on the point of filling a third glass to the ladies -of Maryland, when he caught himself and brought his hand down on the -table. - -“Gad's life!” cried he, “but I think she's from Maryland, too!” - -“Who?” demanded the young ladies, in a breath. - -But I knew. - -“Who!” exclaimed Comyn. “Who but Miss Dorothy Manners! Isn't she from -Maryland?” And marking our astonished nods, he continued: “Why, she -descended upon Mayfair when they were so weary for something to worship, -and they went mad over her in a s'ennight. I give you Miss Manners!” - -“And you know her!” exclaimed Patty, her voice quivering with -excitement. - -“Faith!” said his Lordship, laughing. “For a whole month I was her most -devoted, as were we all at Almack's. I stayed until the last minute for -a word with her,--which I never got, by the way,--and paid near a guinea -a mile for a chaise to Portsmouth as a consequence. Already she has had -her choice from a thousand a year up, and I tell you our English ladies -are green with envy.” - -I was stunned, you may be sure. And yet, I might have expected it. - -“If your Lordship has left your heart in England,” said Betty, with a -smile, “I give you warning you must not tell our ladies here of it.” - -“I care not who knows it, Miss Tayloe,” he cried. That fustian, -insincerity, was certainly not one of his faults. “I care not who knows -it. To pass her chariot is to have your heart stolen, and you must needs -run after and beg mercy. But, ladies,” he added, his eye twinkling; -“having seen the women of your colony, I marvel no longer at Miss -Manners's beauty.” - -He set us all a-laughing. - -“I fear you were not born a diplomat, sir,” says Patty. “You agree -that we are beautiful, yet to hear that one of us is more so is small -consolation.” - -“We men turn as naturally to Miss Manners as plants to the sun, ma'am,” - he replied impulsively. “Yet none of us dare hope for alliance with -so brilliant and distant an object. I make small doubt those are Mr. -Carvel's sentiments, and still he seems popular enough with the ladies. -How now, sir? How now, Mr. Carvel? You have yet to speak on so tender a -subject.” - -My eyes met Patty's. - -“I will be no more politic than you, my Lord,” I said boldly, “nor will -I make a secret of it that I adore Miss Manners full as much.” - -“Bravo, Richard!” cries Patty; and “Good!” cries his Lordship, while -Betty claps her hands. And then Comyn swung suddenly round in his chair. - -“Richard Carvel!” says he. “By the seven chimes I have heard her mention -your name. The devil fetch my memory!” - -“My name!” I exclaimed, in surprise, and prodigiously upset. - -“Yes,” he answered, with his hand to his head; “some such thought was in -my mind this afternoon when I heard of your riding. Stay! I have it! I -was at Ampthill, Ossory's place, just before I left. Some insupportable -coxcomb was boasting a marvellous run with the hounds nigh across -Hertfordshire, and Miss Manners brought him up with a round turn and a -half hitch by relating one of your exploits, Richard Carvel. And take my -word on't she got no small applause. She told how you had followed a -fox over one of your rough provincial counties, which means three of -Hertfordshire, with your arm broken, by Heaven! and how they lifted you -off at the death. And, Mr. Carvel,” said my Lord, generously, looking at -my flushed face, “you must give me your hand for that.” - -So Dorothy in England had thought of me at least. But what booted it if -she were to marry a duke! My thoughts began to whirl over all Comyn had -said of her so that I scarce heard a question Miss Tayloe had put. - -“Marry Chartersea! That profligate pig!” Comyn was saying. “She would as -soon marry a chairman or a chimneysweep, I'm thinking. Why, Miss Tayloe, -Sir Charles Grandison himself would scarce suit her!” - -“Good lack!” said Betty, “I think Sir Charles would be the very last for -Dorothy.” - - - - -Volume 3. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. MR. ALLEN SHOWS HIS HAND - -So Dorothy's beauty had taken London by storm, even as it had conquered -Annapolis! However, 'twas small consolation to me to hear his Grace of -Chartersea called a pig and a profligate while better men danced her -attendance in Mayfair. Nor, in spite of what his Lordship had said, was -I quite easy on the score of the duke. It was in truth no small honour -to become a duchess. If Mr. Marmaduke had aught to say, there was an -end to hope. She would have her coronet. But in that hour of darkness I -counted upon my lady's spirit. - -Dr. Courtenay came to the assembly very late, with a new fashion of -pinchbeck buckles on his pumps and a new manner of taking snuff. (I -caught Fotheringay practising this by the stairs shortly after.) Always -an important man, the doctor's prominence had been increased that day -by the letter he had received. He was too thorough a courtier to profess -any grief over Miss Manners's match, and went about avowing that he had -always predicted a duke for Miss Dorothy. And he drew a deal of pleasure -from the curiosity of those who begged but one look at the letter. -Show it, indeed! For no consideration. A private communication from -one gentleman to another must be respected. Will Fotheringay swore the -doctor was a sly dog, and had his own reasons for keeping it to himself. - -The doctor paid his compliment to the captain of the Thunderer, and to -his Lordship; hoped that he would see them at the meet on the morrow, -tho' his gout forbade his riding to hounds. He saluted me in the most -friendly way, for I played billiards with him at the Coffee House -now, and he won my money. He had pronounced my phaeton to be as well -appointed as any equipage in town, and had done me the honour to -drive out with me on several occasions. It was Betty that brought him -humiliation that evening. - -“What do you think of the soar our Pandora hath taken, Miss Betty?” says -he. “From a Maryland manor to a ducal palace. 'Tis a fable, egad! No -less!” - -“Indeed, I think it is,” retorted Betty. “Mark me, doctor, Dorothy will -not put up an instant with a roue and a brute.” - -“A roue!” cries he, “and a brute! What the plague, Miss Tayloe! I vow I -do not understand you.” - -“Then ask my Lord Comyn, who knows your Duke of Chartersea,” said Betty. - -Dr. Courtenay's expression was worth a pistole. - -“Comyn know him!” he repeated. - -“That he does,” replied Betty, laughing. “His Lordship says Chartersea -is a pig and a profligate, and I remember not what else. And that Dolly -will not look at him. And so little Mr. Marmaduke may go a-hunting for -another title.” - -No wonder I had little desire for dancing that night! I wandered out of -the assembly-room and through the silent corridors of the Stadt House, -turning over and over again what I had heard, and picturing Dorothy -reigning over the macaronies of St. James's Street. She had said nothing -of this in her letter to Betty, and had asked me to write to her. But -now, with a duke to refuse or accept, could she care to hear from -her old playmate? I took no thought of the time, until suddenly my -conscience told me I had neglected Patty. - -As I entered the hall I saw her at the far end of it talking to Mr. -Allen. This I thought strange, for I knew she disliked him. Lord -Comyn and Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Singleton, were standing by, -listening. By the time I was halfway across to them the rector turned -away. I remember thinking afterwards that he changed colour when he -said: “Your servant, Mr. Richard.” But I thought nothing of it at the -time, and went on to Patty. - -“I have come for a country dance, before we go, Patty,” I said. - -Then something in her mien struck me. Her eyes expressed a pain I had -remarked in them before only when she spoke to me of Tom, and her lips -were closed tightly. She flushed, and paled, and looked from Singleton -to Mr. Carroll. They and his Lordship remained silent. - -“I--I cannot, Richard. I am going home,” she said, in a low voice. - -“I will see if the chariot is here,” I answered, surprised, but thinking -of Tom. - -She stopped me. - -“I am going with Mr. Carroll,” she said. - -I hope a Carvel never has to be rebuffed twice, nor to be humbled by -craving an explanation before a company. I was confounded that Patty -should treat me thus, when I had done nothing to deserve it. As I made -for the door, burning and indignant, I felt as tho' every eye in the -room was upon me.' Young Harvey drove me that night. - -“Marlboro' Street, Mr. Richard?” said he. - -“Coffee House,” replied I, that place coming first into my head. - -Young Harvey seldom took liberties; but he looked down from the box. - -“Better home, sir; your pardon, sir.” - -“D--n it!” I cried, “drive where I bid you!” - -I pulled down the fore-glass, though the night was cold, and began to -cast about for the cause of Patty's action. And then it was the rector -came to my mind. Yes, he had been with her just before I came up, and I -made sure on the instant that my worthy instructor was responsible for -the trouble. I remembered that I had quarrelled with him the morning -before I had gone to Bentley Manor, and threatened to confess his -villany and my deceit to Mr. Carvel. He had answered me with a sneer and -a dare. I knew than Patty put honour and honesty before all else in the -world, and that she would not have suffered my friendship for a day had -she believed me to lack either. But she, who knew me so well, was not -likely to believe anything he might say without giving me the chance to -clear myself. And what could he have told her? - -I felt my anger growing big within me, until I grew afraid of what I -would do if I were tempted. I had a long score and a heavy score against -this rector of St. Anne's,--a score that had been gathering these years. -And I felt that my uncle was somewhere behind him; that the two of them -were plotters against me, even as Harvey had declared; albeit my Uncle -Grafton was little seen in his company now. And finally, in a sinister -flash of revelation, came the thought that Grafton himself was at the -back of this deception of my grandfather, as to my principles. Fool that -I was, it had never occurred to me before. But how was he to gain by it? -Did he hope that Mr. Carvel, in a fit of anger, would disinherit me when -he found I had deceived him? Yes. And so had left the matter in abeyance -near these two years, that the shock might be the greater when it -came. I recalled now, with a shudder, that never since the spring of my -grandfather's illness had my uncle questioned me upon my politics. I was -seized with a fit of fury. I suspected that Mr. Allen would be at the -Coffee House after the assembly. And I determined to seize the chance at -once and have it out with him then and there. - -The inn was ablaze, but as yet deserted; Mr. Claude expectant. He bowed -me from my chariot door, and would know what took me from the ball. I -threw him some short answer, bade Harvey go home, saying that I would -have some fellow light me to Marlboro' Street when I thought proper. -And coming into the long room I flung aside my greatcoat and commanded a -flask of Mr. Stephen Bordley's old sherry, some of which Mr. Claude had -obtained at that bachelor's demise. - -The wine was scarce opened before I heard some sort of stir at the -front, and two servants in a riding livery of scarlet and white hurried -in to seek Mr. Claude. The sight of them sufficed mine host, for he went -out as fast as his legs would go, giving the bell a sharp pull as he -passed the door; and presently I heard him complimenting two gentlemen -into the house. The voice of one I knew,--being no other than Captain -Clapsaddle's; and him I had not seen for the past six months. I was just -risen to my feet when they came in at the door beside me. - -“Richard!” cried the captain, and grasped my hand in both his own. -I returned his pressure, too much pleased to speak. Then his eye was -caught by my finery. - -“So ho!” says he, shaking his head at me for a sad rogue. “Wine and -women and fine clothes, and not nineteen, or I mistake me. It was so -with Captain Jack, who blossomed in a week; and few could vie with him, -I warrant you, after he made his decision. But bless me!” he went on, -drawing back, “the lad looks mature, and a fair two inches broader than -last spring. But why are you not at the assembly, Richard?” - -“I have but now come from there, sir,” I replied, not caring in the -presence of a stranger to enter into reasons. - -At my answer the captain turned from me to the gentleman behind him, who -had been regarding us both as we talked. There are some few men in the -world, I thank God for it, who bear their value on their countenance; -who stand unmistakably for qualities which command respect and -admiration and love! We seem to recognize such men, and to wonder where -we have seen them before. In reality we recognize the virtues they -represent. So it was with him I saw in front of me, and by his air and -carriage I marked him then and there as a man born to great things. You -all know his face, my dears, and I pray God it may live in the sight of -those who come after you, for generation upon generation! - -“Colonel Washington,” said the captain, “this is Mr. Richard Carvel, the -son of Captain Carvel.” - -Mr. Washington did not speak at once. He stood regarding me a full -minute, his eye seeming to penetrate the secrets of my life. And I take -pride in saying it was an eye I could meet without flinching. - -“Your father was a brave man, sir,” he said soberly, “and it seems you -favour him. I am happy in knowing the son.” - -For a moment he stood debating whether he would go to the house of one -of his many friends in Annapolis, knowing that they would be offended -when they learned he had stopped at the inn. He often came to town, -indeed, but seldom tarried long; and it had never been my fortune to -see him. Being arrived unexpectedly, and obliged to be away early on the -morrow, he decided to order rooms of Mr. Claude, sat down with me at the -table, and commenced supper. They had ridden from Alexandria. I gathered -from their conversation that they were on their way to Philadelphia upon -some private business, the nature of which, knowing Captain Daniel's -sentiments and those of Colonel Washington, I went not far to guess. The -country was in a stir about the Townshend duties; and there being some -rumour that all these were to be discharged save only that on tea, -anxiety prevailed in our middle colonies that the merchants of New York -would abandon the association formed and begin importation. It was of -some mission to these merchants that I suspected them. - -As I sat beside Colonel Washington, I found myself growing calmer, -and ashamed of my lack of self-control. Unconsciously, when we come -in contact with the great of character, we mould our minds to their -qualities. His very person seemed to exhale, not sanctity, but virility. -I felt that this man could command himself and others. In his presence -self-command came to me, as a virtue gone out of him. 'Twas not his -speech, I would have you know, that took hold of me. He was by no means -a brilliant talker, and I had the good fortune to see him at his ease, -since he and the captain were old friends. As they argued upon the -questions of the day, the colonel did not seek to impress by words, -or to fascinate by manner. His opinions were calm and moderate, and -appeared to me so just as to admit of no appeal. He scrupled not to use -a forceful word when occasion demanded. And yet, now and then, he had -a lively way about him with all his dignity. When he had finished his -supper he bade Mr. Claude bring another bottle of Mr. Bordley's sherry, -having tested mine, and addressed himself to me. - -He would know what my pursuits had been; for my father's sake, what were -my ambitions? He questioned me about Mr. Carvel's plantation, of which -he had heard, and appeared pleased with the answers I gave as to its -management and methods. Captain Daniel was no less so. Mr. Washington -had agriculture at his finger ends, and gave me some advice which he had -found serviceable at Mount Vernon. - -“'Tis a pity, Richard,” said he, smiling thoughtfully at the captain, -“'tis a pity we have no service afield open to our young men. One of -your spirit and bearing should be of that profession. Captain Jack was -as brave and dashing an officer as I ever laid eyes on.” - -I hesitated, the tingling at the compliment. - -“I begin to think I was born for the sea, sir,” I answered, at length. - -“What!” cried the captain; “what news is this, Richard? 'Slife! how has -this come about?” - -My anger subdued by Mr. Washington's presence, a curious mood had taken -its place. A foolish mood, I thought it, but one of feeling things to -come. - -“I believe I shall one day take part in a great sea-fight,” I said. And, -tho' ashamed to speak of it, I told him of Stanwix's prophecy that I -should pace the decks of a man-o'-war. - -“A pox on Stanwix!” said the captain, “an artful old seadog! I never -yet knew one who did not think the sun rises and sets from poop to -forecastle, who did not wheedle with all the young blood to get them to -follow a bow-legged profession.” - -Colonel Washington laughed. - -“Judge not, Clapsaddle,” said he; “here are two of us trying to get the -lad for our own bow-legged profession. We are as hot as Methodists to -convert.” - -“Small conversion he needed when I was here to watch him, colonel. And -he rides with any trooper I ever laid eyes on. Why, sir, I myself threw -him on a saddle before he could well-nigh walk, and 'twere a waste of -material to put him in the navy.” - -“But what this old man said of a flag not yet seen in heaven or earth -interests me,” said Colonel Washington. “Tell me,” he added with a -penetration we both remarked, “tell me, does your Captain Stanwix follow -the times? Is he a man to read his prints and pamphlets? In other words, -is he a man who might predict out of his own heated imagination?” - -“Nay, sir,” I answered, “he nods over his tobacco the day long. And I -will make bold to swear, he has never heard of the Stamp Act.” - -“'Tis strange,” said the colonel, musing; “I have heard of this second -sight--have seen it among my own negroes. But I heartily pray that this -may be but the childish fancy of an old mariner. How do you interpret -it, sir?” he added, addressing himself to me. - -“If a prophecy, I can interpret it in but one way,” I began, and there I -stopped. - -“To be sure,” said Mr. Washington. He studied me awhile as though -weighing my judgment, and went on: “Needless to say, Richard, that such -a service, if it comes, will not be that of his Majesty.” - -“And it were, colonel, I would not embark in it a step,” I cried. - -He laughed. - -“The lad has his father's impulse,” he said to Captain Daniel. “But -I thought old Mr. Carvel to be one of the warmest loyalists in the -colonies.” - -I bit my lip; for, since that unhappy deception of Mr. Carvel, I had -not meant to be drawn into an avowal of my sentiments. But I had, alas, -inherited a hasty tongue. - -“Mr. Washington,” said the captain, “old Mr. Carvel has ever been a good -friend to me. And, though I could not but perceive which way the lad was -tending, I had held it but a poor return for friendship had I sought -by word or deed to bring him to my way of thinking. Nor have I ever -suffered his views in my presence.” - -“My dear sir, I honour you for it,” put in the colonel, warmly. - -“It is naught to my credit,” returned the captain. “I would not, for the -sake of my party and beliefs, embitter what remains of my old friend's -life.” - -I drew a long breath and drained the full glass before me. - -“Captain Daniel!” I cried, “you must hear me now. I have been waiting -your coming these months. And if Colonel Washington gives me leave, I -will speak before him.” - -The colonel bade me proceed, avowing that Captain Carvel's son should -have his best assistance. - -With that I told them the whole story of Mr. Allen's villany. How I had -been sent to him because of my Whig sentiments, and for thrashing a Tory -schoolmaster and his flock. This made the gentlemen laugh, tho' Captain -Daniel had heard it before. I went on to explain how Mr. Carvel had -fallen ill, and was like to die; and how Mr. Allen, taking advantage of -his weakness when he rose from his bed, had gone to him with the lie of -having converted me. But when I told of the scene between my grandfather -and me at Carvel Hall, of the tears of joy that the old gentleman shed, -and of how he had given me Firefly as a reward, the captain rose from -his chair and looked out of the window into the blackness, and swore -a great oath all to himself. And the expression I saw come into the -colonel's eyes I shall never forget. - -“And you feared the consequences upon your grandfather's health?” he -asked gravely. - -“So help me God!” I answered, “I truly believe that to have undeceived -him would have proved fatal.” - -“And so, for the sake of the sum he receives for teaching you,” cried -the captain, with another oath, “this scoundrelly clergyman has betrayed -you into a lie. A scheme, by God's life! worthy of a Machiavelli!” - -“I have seen too many of his type in our parishes,” said Mr. Washington; -“and yet the bishop of London seems powerless. And so used have we -become in these Southern colonies to tippling and gaming parsons, that I -warrant his people accept him as nothing out of the common.” - -“He is more discreet than the run of them, sir. His parishioners dislike -him, not because of his irregularities, but because he is attempting to -obtain All Saints from his Lordship, in addition to St. Anne's. He is -thought too greedy.” - -He was silent, his brow a little furrowed, and drummed with his fingers -upon the table. - -“But this I cannot reconcile,” said he, presently, “that the reward is -out of all proportion to the risk. Such a clever rascal must play for -higher stakes.” - -I was amazed at his insight. And for the moment was impelled to make -a clean breast of my suspicions,--nay, of my convictions of the whole -devil's plot. But I had no proofs. I remembered that to the colonel my -uncle was a gentleman of respectability and of wealth, and a member -of his Excellency's Council. That to accuse him of scheming for my -inheritance would gain me nothing in Mr. Washington's esteem. And -I caught myself before I had said aught of Mr. Allen's conduct that -evening. - -“Have you confronted this rector with his perfidy, Richard?” he asked. - -“I have, colonel, at my first opportunity.” And I related how Mr. -Allen had come to the Hall, and what I had said to him, and how he had -behaved. And finally told of the picquet we now had during lessons, not -caring to shield myself. Both listened intently, until the captain broke -out. Mr. Washington's indignation was the stronger for being repressed. - -“I will call him out!” cried Captain Daniel, fingering his sword, as was -his wont when angered; “I will call him out despite his gown, or else -horse him publicly!” - -“No, my dear sir, you will do nothing of the kind,” said the colonel. -“You would gain nothing by it for the lad, and lose much. Such rascals -walk in water, and are not to be tracked. He cannot be approached save -through Mr. Lionel Carvel himself, and that channel, for Mr. Carvel's -sake, must be closed.” - -“But he must be shown up!” cried the captain. - -“What good will you accomplish?” said Mr. Washington; “Lord Baltimore is -notorious, and will not remove him. Nay, sir, you must find a way to get -the lad from his influence.” And he asked me how was my grandfather's -health at present. - -I said that he had mended beyond my hopes. - -“And does he seem to rejoice that you are of the King's party?” - -“Nay, sir. Concerning politics he seems strangely apathetic, which -makes me fear he is not so well as he appears. All his life he has felt -strongly.” - -“Then I beg you, Richard, take pains to keep neutral. Nor let any -passing event, however great, move you to speech or action.” - -The captain shook his head doubtfully, as tho' questioning the ability -of one of my temper to do this. - -“I do not trust myself, sir,” I answered. - -He rose, declaring it was past his hour for bed, and added some kind -things which I shall cherish in my memory. As he was leaving he laid his -hand on my shoulder. - -“One word of advice, my lad,” he said. “If by any chance your -convictions are to come to your grandfather's ears, let him have them -from your own lips.” And he bade me good night. - -The captain tarried but a moment longer. - -“I have a notion who is to blame for this, Richard,” he said. “When I -come back from New York, we shall see what we shall see.” - -“I fear he is too slippery for a soldier to catch,” I answered. - -He went away to bed, telling me to be prudent, and mind the colonel's -counsel until he returned from the North. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. THE VOLTE COUPE - -I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for -my wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me. -But just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and -I sat down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon -myself, but to stay awhile. - -The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me. - -“Ho!” he cried, “will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?” - -He was already purple with wine. - -“God save me from you and your kind!” I replied. - -“'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!” he exclaimed, as he went -off down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And -they were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There -was the captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two -brother officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased -to be found in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who -had followed my Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have -tracked him to perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain, -leering and hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of -drunkenness as I had rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and -smiled, and was pushing his chair back, when something Collinson said -seemed to restrain him. - -I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though -I could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some -French cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was -making me dangerous. - -I forgot the advice I had received, and remembered only the months he -had goaded me. And I was even beginning to speculate how I could best -pick a quarrel with him on any issue but politics, when an unexpected -incident diverted me. Of a sudden the tall, ungainly form of Percy -Singleton filled the doorway, wrapped in a greatcoat. He swept the room -at a glance, and then strode rapidly toward the corner where I sat. - -“I had thought to find you here,” he said, and dropped into a chair -beside me. I offered him wine, but he refused. - -“Now,” he went on, “what has Patty done?” - -“What have I done that I should be publicly insulted?” I cried. - -“Insulted!” says he, “and did she insult you? She said nothing of that.” - -“What brings you here, then?” I demanded. - -“Not to talk, Richard,” he said quietly, “'tis no time tonight. I came -to fetch you home. Patty sent me.” - -Patty sent him! Why had Patty sent him? But this I did not ask, for I -felt the devil within me. - -“We must first finish this bottle,” said I, offhand, “and then I have a -little something to be done which I have set my heart upon. After that I -will go with you.” - -“Richard, Richard, will you never learn prudence? What is it you speak -of?” - -I drew my sword and laid it upon the table. - -“I mean to spit that eel of a rector,” said I, “or he will bear a slap -in the face. And you must see fair play.” - -Singleton seized my coat, at the same time grasping the hilt of my -sword with the other hand. But neither my words nor my action had gone -unnoticed by the other end of the room. The company there fell silent -awhile, and then we heard Captain Collinson talking in even, drawling -tones. - -“'Tis strange,” said he, “what hot sparks a man meets in these colonies. -They should be stamped out. His Majesty pampers these d--d Americans, -is too lenient by far. Gentlemen, this is how I would indulge them!” He -raised a closed fist and brought it down on the board. - -He spoke to Tories, but he forgot that Tories were Americans. In those -days only the meanest of the King's party would listen to such without -protest from an Englishman. But some of the meaner sort were there: -Philip and Tom laughed, and Mr. Allen, and my Lord's sycophants. -Fotheringay and some others of sense shook their heads one to another, -comprehending that Captain Collinson was somewhat gone in wine. For, -indeed, he had not strayed far from the sideboard at the assembly. Comyn -made a motion to rise. - -“It is already past three bells, sir, and a hunt to-morrow,” he said. - -“From bottle to saddle, and from saddle to bottle, my Lord. We must have -our pleasure ashore, and sleep at sea,” and the captain tipped his flask -with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord. -“We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason, -and before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the -customs served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word, -'twas as good as a play.” - -I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the -cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept -over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and -Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice -I had reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from -Fotheringay on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the -floor. Then I drew back, amazed. - -I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me. - -The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's--Comyn -jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson--that none save me -guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was -up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me. - -“Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you,” said -I, with what coolness I could muster. “But there is one here I would -give much for a chance to run through.” - -And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and -movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face; -yet he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by -the Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us -with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him. - -“It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel,” he cried. - -“As you please, my Lord,” said I. - -“It boots not who crosses with him,” Captain Collinson put in. “His -Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that -he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King.” - -I wheeled on him for this. - -“I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and -murder, sir,” I answered, “nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes -cannot be loyal save through interest.” - -He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the -quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother -as against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been -reared. - -“Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn,” cried the captain, with -an oath. “He seems to think his importance sufficient.” - -But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should -strike him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was -right. - -“You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel,” he said. - -“Nay,” I answered, “and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through -with it at once. A large room upstairs is at our disposal; and there is -a hunt to-morrow which one of us may like to attend.” - -There was a laugh at this, in which his Lordship joined. - -“I would to God, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “that I had no quarrel with you!” - -“Amen to that, my Lord,” I replied; “there are others here I would -rather fight.” And I gave a meaning look at Mr. Allen. I was of two -minds to announce the scurvy trick he had played, but saw that I would -lose rather than gain by the attempt. Up to that time the wretch had not -spoken a word; now he pushed himself forward, though well clear of me. - -“I think it my duty as Mr. Carvel's tutor, gentlemen, to protest against -this matter proceeding,” he said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “Nor -can I be present at it. Mr. Carvel is young and, besides, is not himself -with liquor. And, in the choice of politics, he knows not which leg he -stands upon. My Lord and gentlemen, your most humble and devoted.” - -He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left -the tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep -in his chair. - -Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve -his Lordship, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some -one. 'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had passed from my mind. - -He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And -Will Fotheringay came forward. - -“I will act, Richard, if you allow me,” he said. “I would have you know -I am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party. -But I admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy -with that which prompted his act.” - -It was a noble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked -him with warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his -Lordship! - -Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told -that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private -room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party -of such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards. -Presently we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment -below. - -We gathered about the table and made shift at loo until the fellow had -retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and -Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my -anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed -between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of -Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man--like a -Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then -the clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter -floated up to us from below. - -And Comyn,--of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the -downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her -tears until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by -the lad before me. What a picture was he in his spotless shirt with the -ruffles, his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest! - -I had scarce felt his Lordship's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a -pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint -or trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was -buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore -that I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a -pin-cushion twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals -thrust into a pit with nothing but good-will between them, and those -without force them into anger and a deadly battle. And so it was, -unconsciously, between Comyn and me. I forgot presently that I was not -dealing with Captain Collinson, and my feelings went into my sword. -Comyn began to press me, nor did I give back. And then, before it came -over me that we had to do with life and death, he was upon me with a -volte coupe, feinting in high carte and thrusting in low tierce, his -point passing through a fold in my shirt. And I were not alive to write -these words had I not leaped out of his measure. - -“Bravo, Richard!” cried Fotheringay. - -“Well made, gads life!” from Mr. Furness. - -We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the -matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows -I was not used to play a passive part. I began to go carefully, but -fiercely; tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain -Daniel had taught me,--flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me -even, and in truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I -had him in the sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick -for me. We were sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in -my ears I could scarce hear the applause of the seconds. - -What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again -the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it -he did, this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that -intuition which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of -his adversary. Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this -coupe. I parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and -my point at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the -space of a second. My sword rang clattering on the floor. - -His Lordship understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one -wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the -rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp -pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock -striking the half-hour. - -I was blessed with a sturdy health such as few men enjoy, and came to -myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And -the first face I beheld was that of Colonel Washington. I heard him -speaking in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding. - -“I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air. -Fetch some linen!” - -“Now God be praised!” I heard Captain Daniel cry. - -With that his Lordship began to tear his own shirt into strips, and the -captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound -and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel assisting. When Mr. -Washington had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and -dishevelled, at my feet. - -“You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord,” he said. - -“With all my heart, Colonel Washington!” cried his Lordship. “I owe my -life to his generosity.” - -“What's that, sir?” - -Mr. Carvel dropped his sword, rather than run me through.” - -“I'll warrant!” Captain Daniel put in; “'Od's heart! The lad has skill -to point the eye of a button. I taught him myself.” - -Colonel Washington stood up and laid his hand on the captain's arm. - -“He is Jack Carvel over again,” I heard him say, in a low voice. - -I tried to struggle to my feet, to speak, but he restrained me. And -sending for his servants, he ordered them to have his baggage removed -from the Roebuck, which was the best bed in the house. At this moment -the door opened, and Mr. Swain came in hurriedly. - -“I pray you, gentlemen,” he cried, “and he is fit to be moved, you will -let me take him to Marlboro' Street. I have a chariot at the door.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV. OF WHICH THE RECTOR HAS THE WORST - -'Twas late when I awoke the next day with something of a dull ache in -my neck, and a prodigious stiffness, studying the pleatings of the bed -canopy over my head. And I know not how long I lay idly thus when I -perceived Mrs. Willis moving quietly about, and my grandfather sitting -in the armchair by the window, looking into Freshwater Lane. As my eyes -fell upon him my memory came surging back,--first of the duel, then -of its cause. And finally, like a leaden weight, the thought of the -deception I had practised upon him, of which he must have learned ere -this. Nay, I was sure from the troubled look of his face that he knew of -it. - -“Mr. Carvel,” I said. - -At the sound of my voice he got hastily from his chair and hurried to my -side. - -“Richard,” he answered, taking my hand, “Richard!” - -I opened my mouth to speak, to confess. But he prevented me, the tears -filling the wrinkles around his eyes. - -“Nay, lad, nay. We will not talk of it. I know all.” - -“Mr. Allen has been here--” I began. - -“And be d--d to him! Be d--d to him for a wolf in sheep's clothing!” - shouted my grandfather, his manner shifting so suddenly to anger that -I was taken back. “So help me God I will never set foot in St. Anne's -while he is rector. Nor shall he come to this house!” - -And he took three or four disorderly turns about the room. - -“Ah!” he continued more quietly, with something of a sigh, “I might have -known how stubborn your mind should be. That you was never one to blow -from the north one day and from the south the next. I deny not that -there be good men and able of your way of thinking: Colonel Washington, -for one, whom I admire and honour; and our friend Captain Daniel. They -have been here to-day, Richard, and I promise you were good advocates.” - -Then I knew that I was forgiven. And I could have thrown myself at Mr. -Carvel's feet for happiness. - -“Has Colonel Washington spoken in my favour, sir?” - -“That he has. He is upon some urgent business for the North, I believe, -which he delayed for your sake. Both he and the captain were in my -dressing-room before I was up, ahead of that scurrilous clergyman, who -was for pushing his way to my bed-curtains. Ay, the two of them were -here at nigh dawn this morning, and Mr. Allen close after them. And I -own that Captain Daniel can swear with such a consuming violence as to -put any rogue out of countenance. 'Twas all Mr. Washington could do to -restrain Clapsaddle from booting his Reverence over the balustrade and -down two runs of the stairs, the captain declaring he would do for every -cur's son of the whelps. 'Diomedes,' says I, waking up, 'what's this -damnable racket on the landing? Is Mr. Richard home?' For I had some -notion it was you, sir, after an over-night brawl. And I profess I would -have caned you soundly. The fellow answered that Captain Clapsaddle's -honour was killing Mr. Allen, and went out; and came back presently to -say that some tall gentleman had the captain by the neck, and that Mr. -Allen was picking his way down the ice on the steps outside. With that I -went in to them in my dressing-gown. - -“'What's all this to-do, gentlemen?' said I. - -“'I'd have finished that son of a dog,' says the captain, 'and Colonel -Washington had let me.' - -“'What, what!' said I. 'How now? What! Drive a clergyman from my house -gentlemen?' - -“'What's Richard been at now?' - -“Mr. Washington asked me to dress, saying that they had something very -particular to speak about; that they would stay to breakfast with me, -tho' they were in haste to be gone to New York. I made my compliments -to the colonel and had them shown to the library fire, and hurried -down after them. Then they told me of this affair last night, and they -cleared you, sir. 'Faith,' cried I, 'and I would have fought, too. -The lad was in the right of it, though I would have him a little less -hasty.' D--n me if I don't wish you had knocked that sea captain's teeth -into his throat, and his brains with them. I like your spirit, sir. A -pox on such men as he, who disgrace his Majesty's name and set better -men against him.” - -“And they told you nothing else, sir?” I asked, with misgiving. - -“That they did. Mr. Washington repeated the confession you made to -them, sir, in a manner that did you credit. He made me compliments on -you,--said that you were a man, sir, though a trifle hasty: in the which -I agreed. Yes, d--n me, a trifle hasty like your father. I rejoice that -you did not kill his Lordship, my son.” - -The twilight was beginning; and the old gentleman going back to his -chair was set amusing, gazing out across the bare trees and gables -falling gray after the sunset. - -What amazed me was that he did not seem to be shocked by the revelation -near as much as I had feared. So this matter had brought me happiness -where I looked for nothing but sorrow. - -“And the gentlemen are gone north, sir?” said I, after a while. - -“Yes, Richard, these four hours. I commanded an early dinner for them, -since the colonel was pleased to tarry long enough for a little politics -and to spin a glass. And I profess, was I to live neighbours with such -a man, I might come to his way of thinking, despite myself. Though I say -it that shouldn't, some of his Majesty's ministers are d--d rascals.” - -I laughed. As I live, I never hoped to hear such words from my -grandfather's lips. - -“He did not seek to convince, like so many of your hotheaded -know-it-alls,” said Mr. Carvel; “he leaves a man to convince himself. He -has great parts, Richard, and few can stand before him.” He paused. And -then his smooth-shaven face became creased in a roguish smile which -I had often seen upon it. “What baggage is this I hear of that you -quarrelled over at the assembly? Ah, Sir, I fear you are become but a -sad rake!” says he. - -But by great good fortune Dr. Leiden was shown in at this instant. And -the candles being lighted, he examined my neck, haranguing the while in -his vile English against the practice of duelling. He bade me keep my -bed for two days, thereby giving me no great pleasure. - -“As I hope to live,” said Mr. Carvel when the doctor was gone, “one -would have thought his Excellency himself had been pinked instead of a -whip of a lad, for the people who have been here. His Lordship and Dr. -Courtenay came before the hunt, and young Mr. Fotheringay, and half a -score of others. Mr. Swain is but now left to go to Baltimore on some -barrister's business.” - -I was burning to learn what the rector had said to Patty, but it was -plain Mr. Carvel knew nothing of this part of the story. He had not -mentioned Grafton among the callers. I wondered what course my uncle -would now pursue, that his plans to alienate me from my grandfather had -failed. And I began debating whether or not to lay the whole plot before -Mr. Carvel. Prudence bade me wait, since Grafton had not consorted with -the rector openly, at least--for more than a year. And yet I spoke. - -“Mr. Carvel!” - -He stirred in his chair. - -“Yes, my son.” - -He had to repeat, and still I held my tongue. Even as I hesitated there -came a knock at the door, and Scipio entered, bearing candles. - -“Massa Grafton, suh,” he said. - -My uncle was close at his heels. He was soberly dressed in dark brown -silk, and his face wore that expression of sorrow and concern he -knew how to assume at will. After greeting his father with his usual -ceremony, he came to my bedside and asked gravely how I did. - -“How now, Grafton!” cried Mr. Carvel; “this is no funeral. The lad has -only a scratch, thank God!” - -My uncle looked at me and forced a smile. - -“Indeed I am rejoiced to find you are not worried over this matter, -father,” said he. “I am but just back from Kent to learn of it, and -looked to find you in bed.” - -“Why, no, sir, I am not worried. I fought a duel in my own day,--over a -lass, it was.” - -This time Grafton's smile was not forced. - -“Over a lass, was it?” he asked, and added in a tone of relief, “and how -do you, nephew?” - -Mr. Carvel saved me from replying. - -“'Od's life!” he cried; “no, I did not say this was over a lass. I have -heard the whole matter; how Captain Collinson, who is a disgrace to the -service, brought shame upon his Majesty's supporters, and how Richard -felled the young lord instead. I'll be sworn, and I had been there, I -myself would have run the brute through.” - -My uncle did not ask for further particulars, but took a chair, and a -dish of tea from Scipio. His smug look told me plainer than words that -he thought my grandfather still ignorant of my Whig sentiments. - -“I often wish that this deplorable practice of duelling might be -legislated against,” he remarked. “Was there no one at the Coffee House -with character enough to stop the lads?” - -Here was my chance. - -“Mr. Allen was there,” I said. - -“A devil's plague upon him!” shouted my grandfather, beating the floor -with his stick. “And the lying hypocrite ever crosses my path, by gad's -life! I'll tear his gown from his back!” - -I watched Grafton narrowly. Such as he never turn pale, but he set down -his tea so hastily as to spill the most of it on the dresser. - -“Why, you astound me, my dear father!” he faltered; “Mr. Allen a lying -hypocrite? What can he have done?” - -“Done!” cried my grandfather, sputtering and red as a cherry with -indignation. “He is as rotten within as a pricked pear, I tell you, sir! -For the sake of retaining the lad in his tuition he came to me and lied, -sir, just after I had escaped death, and said that by his influence -Richard had become loyal, and set dependence upon Richard's fear of -the shock 'twould give me if he confessed--Richard, who never told me -a falsehood in his life! And instead of teaching him, he has gamed with -the lad at the rectory. I dare make oath he has treated your son to a -like instruction. 'Slife, sir, and he had his deserts, he would hang -from a gibbet at the Town Gate.” - -I raised up in bed to see the effect of this on my uncle. But however -the wind veered, Grafton could steer a course. He got up and began -pacing the room, and his agitation my grandfather took for indignation -such as his own. - -“The dog!” he cried fiercely. “The villain! Philip shall leave him -to-morrow. And to think that it was I who moved you to put Richard to -him!” - -His distress seemed so real that Mr. Carvel replied: - -“No, Grafton, 'twas not your fault. You were deceived as much as I. You -have put your own son to him. But if I live another twelve hours I shall -write his Lordship to remove him. What! You shake your head, sir!” - -“It will not do,” said my uncle. “Lord Baltimore has had his reasons for -sending such a scoundrel--he knew what he was, you may be sure, father. -His Lordship, sir, is the most abandoned rake in London, and that -unmentionable crime of his but lately in the magazines--” - -“Yes, yes,” my grandfather interrupted; “I have seen it. But I will -publish him in Annapolis.” - -My uncle's answer startled me, so like was it to the argument Colonel -Washington himself had used. - -“What would you publish, sir? Mr. Allen will reply that what he did -was for the lad's good, and your own. He may swear that since Richard -mentioned politics no more he had taken his conversion for granted.” - -My grandfather groaned, and did not speak, and I saw the futility of -attempting to bring Grafton to earth for a while yet. - -My uncle had recovered his confidence. He had hoped, so he said, that -I had become a good loyalist: perchance as I grew older I would see the -folly of those who called themselves Patriots. But my grandfather cried -out to him not to bother me then. And when at last he was gone, of my -own volition I proposed to promise Mr. Carvel that, while he lived, I -would take no active part in any troubles that might come. He stopped me -with some vehemence. - -“I pray God there may be no troubles, lad,” he answered; “but you need -give me no promise. I would rather see you in the Whig ranks than a -trimmer, for the Carvels have ever been partisans.” - -I tried to express my gratitude. But he sighed and wished me good night, -bidding me get some rest. - -I had scarce finished my breakfast the next morning when I heard a loud -rat-tat-tat upon the street door-surely the footman of some person of -consequence. And Scipio was in the act of announcing the names when, -greatly to his disgust, the visitors themselves rushed into my bedroom -and curtailed the ceremony. They were none other than Dr. Courtenay and -my Lord Comyn himself. His Lordship had no sooner seen me than he ran -to the bed, grasped both my hands and asked me how I did, declaring he -would not have gone to yesterday's hunt had he been permitted to visit -me. - -“Richard,” cried the doctor, “your fame has sprung up like Jonah's -gourd. The Gazette is but just distributed. Here's for you! 'Twill set -the wags a-going, I'll warrant.” - -He drew the newspaper from his pocket and began to read, stopping now -and anon to laugh: - -“Rumour hath it that a Young Gentleman of Quality of this Town, who is -possessed of more Valour than Discretion, and whose Skill at Fence and -in the Field is beyond his Years, crossed Swords on Wednesday Night -with a Young Nobleman from the Thunderer. The Cause of this Deplorable -Quarrel, which had its Origin at the Ball, is purported to have been -a Young Lady of Wit and Beauty. (& we doubt it not; for, alas! the Sex -hath Much to answer for of this Kind.) - -“The Gentlemen, with their Seconds, repaired after the Assembly to the -Coffee House. 'Tis said upon Authority that H-s L-dsh-p owes his Life to -the Noble Spirit of our Young American, who cast down his Blade rather -than sheathe it in his Adversary's Body, thereby himself receiving a -Grievous, the' happily not Mortal, Wound. Our Young Gentleman is become -the Hero of the Town, and the Subject of Prodigious Anxiety of all the -Ladies thereof.” - -“There's for you, my lad!” says he; “Mr. Green has done for you both -cleverly.” - -“Upon my soul,” I cried, raising up in bed, “he should be put in the -gatehouse for his impudence! My Lord,--” - -“Don't 'My Lord' me,” says Comyn; “plain 'Jack' will do.” - -There was no resisting such a man: and I said as much. And took his hand -and called him 'Jack,' the doctor posing before the mirror the while, -stroking his rues. “Out upon you both,” says he, “for a brace of -sentimental fools!” - -“Richard,” said Comyn, presently, with a roguish glance at the doctor, -“there were some reason in our fighting had it been over a favour of -Miss Manners. Eh? Come, doctor,” he cried, “you will break your neck -looking for the reflection of wrinkles. Come, now, we must have little -Finery's letter. I give you my word Chartersea is as ugly as all three -heads of Cerberus, and as foul as a ship's barrel of grease. I tell you -Miss Dorothy would sooner marry you.” - -“And she might do worse, my Lord,” the doctor flung back, with a strut. - -“Ay, and better. But I promise you Richard and I are not such fools as -to think she will marry his Grace. We must have the little coxcomb's -letter.” - -“Well, have it you must, I suppose,” returns the doctor. And with that -he draws it from his pocket, where he has it buttoned in. Then he took a -pinch of Holland and began. - -The first two pages had to deal with Miss Dorothy's triumph, to which -her father made full justice. Mr. Manners world have the doctor (and all -the province) to know that peers of the realm, soldiers, and statesmen -were at her feet. Orders were as plentiful in his drawing-room as the -candles. And he had taken a house in Arlington Street, where Horry -Walpole lived when not at Strawberry, and their entrance was crowded -night and day with the footmen and chairmen of the grand monde. Lord -Comyn broke in more than once upon the reading, crying,--“Hear, hear!” - and,--“My word, Mr. Manners has not perjured himself thus far. He has -not done her justice by half.” And I smiled at the thought that I had -aspired to such a beauty! - -“'Entre noes, mon cher Courtenay,' Mr. Manners writes, 'entre noes, -our Dorothy hath had many offers of great advantage since she hath been -here. And but yesterday comes a chariot with a ducal coronet to our -door. His Grace of Chartersea, if you please, to request a private -talk with me. And I rode with him straightway to his house in Hanover -Square.'” - -“'Egad! And would gladly have ridden straightway to Newgate, in a ducal -chariot!” cried his Lordship, in a fit of laughter. - -“'I rode to Hanover Square,' the doctor continued, 'where we discussed -the matter over a bottle. His Grace's generosity was such that I could -not but cry out at it, for he left me to name any settlement I pleased. -He must have Dorothy at any price, said he. And I give you my honour, -mon cher Courtenay, that I lost no time in getting back to Arlington -Street, and called Dorothy down to tell her.'” - -“Now may I be flayed,” said Comyn, “if ever there was such another ass!” - -The doctor took more snuff and fell a-laughing. - -“But hark to this,” said he, “here's the cream of it all: - -“You will scarce believe me when I say that the baggage was near beside -herself with anger at what I had to tell her. 'Marry that misshapen -duke!' cries she, 'I would quicker marry Doctor Johnson!' And truly, I -begin to fear she hath formed an affection for some like, foul-linened -beggar. That his Grace is misshapen I cannot deny; but I tried reason -upon her. 'Think of the coronet, my dear, and of the ancient name to -which it belongs.' She only stamps her foot and cries out: - -“'Coronet fiddlesticks! And are you not content with the name you bear, -sir?” 'Our name is good as any in the three kingdoms,' said I, with -truth. 'Then you would have me, for the sake of the coronet, joined to -a wretch who is steeped in debauchery. Yes, debauchery, sir! You might -then talk, forsooth, to the macaronies of Maryland, of your daughter the -Duchess.'” - -“There's spirit for you, my lad!” Comyn shouted; “I give you Miss -Dorothy.” And he drained a glass of punch Scipio had brought in, Doctor -Courtenay and I joining him with a will. - -“I pray you go on, sir,” I said to the doctor. - -“A pest on your impatience!” replied he; “I begin to think you are in -love with her yourself.” - -“To be sure he is,” said Comyn; “he had lost my esteem and he were not.” - -The doctor gave me an odd look. I was red enough, indeed. - -“'I could say naught, my dear Courtenay, to induce her to believe that -his Grace's indiscretions arose from the wildness of youth. And I pass -over the injustice she hath unwittingly done me, whose only efforts are -for her bettering. The end of it all was that I must needs post back -to the duke, who was stamping with impatience up and down, and drinking -Burgundy. I am sure I meant him no offence, but told him in as many -words, that my daughter had refused him. And, will you believe me, -sir? He took occasion to insult me (I cannot with propriety repeat his -speech), and he flung a bottle after me as I passed out the door. Was he -not far gone in wine at the time, I assure you I had called him out for -it.'” - -“And, gentlemen,” said the doctor, when our merriment was somewhat -spent, “I'll lay a pipe of the best Madeira, that our little fool never -knows the figure he has cut with his Grace.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR - -The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still upon -my back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seen -him again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who drift -together to part. And he left me that sword with the jewelled hilt, that -hangs above my study fire, which he had bought in Toledo. He told me -that he was heartily sick of the navy; that he had entered only in -respect for a wish of his father's, the late Admiral Lord Comyn, and -that the Thunderer was to sail for New York, where he looked for a -release from his commission, and whence he would return to England. He -would carry any messages to Miss Manners that I chose to send. But -I could think of none, save to beg him to remind her that she was -constantly in my thoughts. He promised me, roguishly enough, that he -would have thought of a better than that by the time he sighted Cape -Clear. And were I ever to come to London he would put me up at Brooks's -Club, and warrant me a better time and more friends than ever had a -Caribbee who came home on a visit. - -My grandfather kept his word in regard to Mr. Allen, and on Sunday -commanded the coach at eight. We drove over bad roads to the church at -South River. And he afterwards declined the voluntary aid he hitherto -had been used to give to St. Anne's. In the meantime, good Mr. Swain had -called again, bringing some jelly and cake of Patty's own making; and -a letter writ out of the sincerity of her heart, full of tender concern -and of penitence. She would never cease to blame herself for the wrong -she now knew she had done me. - -Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinner -that Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street. From the window she saw -me coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me. Her eyes -rested first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fire -of anxiety. - -“I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to South -River,” she said. - -I was struck all of a sudden with her looks. Her face was pale, and I -saw that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed her -into the little library. The day was fading fast, and the leaping flames -behind the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of the -ceiling. We sat together in the deep window. - -“And you have forgiven me, Richard?” she asked. - -“An hundred times,” I replied. “I deserved all I got, and more.” - -“If I had not wronged and insulted you--” - -“You did neither, Patty,” I broke in; “I have played a double part for -the first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished for -it.” - -“'Twas I sent you to the Coffee House,” she cried, “where you might have -been killed. How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen's tales!” - -“Then it was Mr. Allen!” I exclaimed, fetching a long breath. - -“Yes, yes; I will tell you all.” - -“No,” said I, alarmed at her agitation; “another time.” - -“I must,” she answered more calmly; “it has burned me enough. You recall -that we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn, -and how merry we were, altho' 'twas nothing but 'Dorothy' with you -gentlemen. Then you left me. Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr. -Singleton, the rector came up. I never have liked the man, Richard, but -I little knew his character. He began by twitting me for a Whig, and -presently he said: 'But we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who sees -the error of his ways. Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promised -to be one of those with whom his Majesty will have to reckon. And he -is now become,'--laughing,--'the King's most loyal and devoted.' I was -beside myself. 'That is no subject for jest, Mr. Allen,' I cried; I -will never believe it of him!' 'Jest!' said he; I give you my word I was -never soberer in my life.' Then it all came to me of a sudden that you -sat no longer by the hour with my father, as you used, and you denounced -the King's measures and ministers no more. My father had spoken of it. -'Tell me why he has changed?' I asked, faltering with doubt of you, -which I never before had felt. 'Indeed, I know not,' replied the rector, -with his most cynical smile; unless it is because old Mr. Carvel might -disinherit a Whig. But I see you doubt my word, Miss Swain. Here is Mr. -Carroll, and you may ask him.' God forgive me, Richard! I stopped Mr. -Carroll, who seemed mightily surprised. And he told me yes, that your -grandfather had said but a few days before, and with joy, that you were -now of his Majesty's party.” - -“Alas! I might have foreseen this consequence,” I exclaimed. “Nor do I -blame you, Patty.” - -“But my father has explained all,” Patty continued, brightening. “His -admiration for you is increased tenfold, Richard. Your grandfather told -him of the rector's treachery, which he says is sufficient to make him -turn Methodist or Lutheran. We went to the curate's service to-day. -And--will you hear more, sir? Or do your ears burn? That patriots and -loyalists are singing your praises from Town Gate to the dock, and -regretting that you did not kill that detestable Captain Collinson--but -I have something else, and of more importance, to tell you, Richard,” - she continued, lowering her voice. - -“What Mr. Carroll had told me stunned me like a blow, such had been my -faith in you. And when Mr. Allen moved off, I stood talking to -Percy Singleton and his Lordship without understanding a word of the -conversation. I could scarce have been in my right mind. It was not your -going over to the other side that pained me so, for all your people are -Tories. But I had rather seen you dead than a pretender and a hypocrite, -selling yourself for an inheritance. Then you came. My natural impulse -should have been to draw you aside and there accuse you. But this was -beyond my strength. And when I saw you go away without a word I knew -that I had been unjust. I could have wept before them all. Mr. Carroll -went for his coach, and was a full half an hour in getting it. But this -is what I would tell you in particular, Richard. I have not spoken of it -to a soul, and it troubles me above all else: While Maria was getting my -cardinal I heard voices on the other side of the dressing-room door. The -supper-room is next, you know. I listened, and recognized the rector's -deep tones: 'He has gone to the Coffee House,' he was saying; Collinson -declares that his Lordship is our man, if we can but contrive it. He is -the best foil in the service, and was taught by--there! I have forgot -the name.” - -“Angelo!” I cried. - -“Yes, yes, Angelo it was. How did you know?” she demanded, rising in her -excitement. - -“Angelo is the great fencing-master of London,” I replied. - -“When I heard that,” she said, “I had no doubt of your innocence. I ran -out into the assembly room as I was, in my hood, and tried to find Tom. -But he--” She paused, ashamed. - -“Yes, I know,” I said hurriedly; “you could not find him.” - -She glanced at me in gratitude. - -“How everybody stared at me! But little I cared! 'Twas that gave rise to -Mr. Green's report. I thought of Percy Singleton, and stopped him in the -midst of a dance to bid him run as fast as his legs would carry him to -the Coffee House, and to see that no harm befell you. 'I shall hold you -responsible for Richard,' I whispered. 'You must get him away from Mr. -Claude's, or I shall never speak to you again.' He did not wait to ask -questions, but went at once, like the good fellow he is. Then I rode -home with Maria. I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though he -begged hard. Father was in here, writing his brief. But I was all in -pieces, Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him no -more than that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant to -draw you into a duel. He took me up to my own room, and I heard him -going out to wake Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving away -in our coach. I hope I may never in my life spend such another hour as I -passed then.” - -The light in the sky had gone out. I looked up at the girl before me as -she stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, her -lips parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her figure -softened. I wondered why I had never before known her beauty. Perchance -it was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart. - -I leaped to my feet and seized her hands. For a second she looked at me, -startled. Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair in -the corner. - -“Richard, Richard!” she exclaimed. “Did Dorothy but know!” - -“Dorothy is occupied with titles,” I said. - -Patty's lip quivered. And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I had -hurt her. - -“Oh, you wrong her!” she cried; “believe me when I say that she loves -you, and you only, Richard.” - -“Loves me!” I retorted bitterly,--brutally, I fear. “No. She may have -once, long ago. But now her head is turned.” - -“She loves you now,” answered Patty, earnestly; “and I think ever will, -if you but deserve her.” - -And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexity -and consternation. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. SOUTH RIVER - -My grandfather's defection from St. Anne's called forth a deal of -comment in Annapolis. His Excellency came to remonstrate, but to no -avail, and Mr. Carvel denounced the rector in such terms that the -Governor was glad to turn the subject. My Uncle Grafton acted with -such quickness and force as would have served to lull the sharpest -suspicions. He forbid the rector his house, attended the curate's -service, and took Philip from his care. It was decided that both my -cousin and I were to go to King's College after Christmas. Grafton's -conduct greatly pleased my grandfather. “He has behaved very loyally in -this matter, Richard.” he said to me. “I grow to reproach myself more -every day for the injustice I once did him. He is heaping coals of fire -upon my old head. But, faith! I cannot stomach your Aunt Caroline. You -do not seem to like your uncle, lad.” - -I answered that I did not. - -“It was ever the Carvel way not to forget,” he went on. “Nevertheless, -Grafton hath your welfare at heart, I think. His affection for you as -his brother's son is great.” - -O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue! - -Christmas fell upon Monday of that year, 1769. There was to be a ball at -Upper Marlboro on the Friday before, to which many of us were invited. -Though the morning came in with a blinding snowstorm from the north, the -first of that winter, about ten of the clock we set out from Annapolis -an exceeding merry party, the ladies in four coaches-and-six, the -gentlemen and their servants riding at the wheels. We laughed and joked -despite the storm, and exchanged signals with the fair ones behind the -glasses. - -But we had scarce got two miles beyond the town gate when a messenger -overtook us with a note for Mr. Carvel, writ upon an odd slip of paper, -and with great apparent hurry: - -HONOURED SIR, - -“I have but just come to Annapolis from New York, with Instructions -to put into your Hands, & no Others, a Message of the greatest Import. -Hearing you are but now set out for Upper Marlboro I beg of you to -return for half an Hour to the Coffee House. By so doing you will be -of service to a Friend, and confer a Favour upon y'r most ob'd't Humble -Servant, - -“SILAS RIDGEWAY.” - -Our cavalcade had halted while I read, the ladies letting down the -glasses and leaning out in their concern lest some trouble had befallen -me or my grandfather. I answered them and bade them ride on, vowing that -I would overtake the coaches before they reached the Patuxent. Then I -turned Cynthia's head for town, with Hugo at my heels. - -Patty, leaning from the window of the last coach, called out to me as I -passed. I waved my hand in return, and did not remember until long after -the anxiety in her eyes. - -As I rode, and I rode hard, I pondered over the words of this letter. I -knew not this Mr. Ridgeway from the Lord Mayor of London; but I came to -the conclusion before I had reprised the gate that his message was from -Captain Daniel. And I greatly feared that some evil had befallen my good -friend. So I came to the Coffee House, and throwing my bridle to Hugo, I -ran in. - -I found Mr. Ridgeway neither in the long room nor in the billiard room -nor the bar. Mr. Claude told me that indeed a man had arrived that -morning from the North, a spare person with a hooked nose and scant -hair, in a brown greatcoat with a torn cape. He had gone forth afoot -half an hour since. His messenger, a negro lad whose face I knew, was -in the stables with Hugo. He had never seen the stranger till he met -him that morning in State House Circle inquiring for Mr. Carvel, and had -been given a shilling to gallop after me. Impatient as I was to be gone, -I sat me down in the coffee room, thinking every minute the man must -return, and strongly apprehensive that Captain Daniel must be in some -grave predicament. That the favour he asked was of such a nature as I, -and not my grandfather, could best fulfil. - -At length, about a quarter after noon, my man comes in with Mr. Claude -close behind him. I liked his looks less than his description, and the -moment I clapped eyes on him I knew that Captain Daniel had never chose -such a messenger. - -“This is Mr. Richard Carvel,” said Mr. Claude. - -The fellow made me a low bow, which I scarcely returned. - -“I am sure, 'sir,” he began in a whining voice, “that I crave your -forbearance for this prodigious, stupid mistake I have made.” - -“Mistake!” I exclaimed hotly; “you mean to say, sir, that you have -brought me back for nothing?” - -The man's eye shifted, and he made me another bow. - -“I scarce know what to say, Mr. Carvel,” he answered with much humility; -“to speak truth, 'twas zeal to my employers, and methought to you, that -caused you to retrace your steps in this pestiferous storm. I travel,” - he proceeded with some importance, “I travel for Messrs. Rinnell and -Runn, Barristers of the town of New York, and carry letters to men of -mark all over these middle and southern colonies. And my instructions, -sir, were to come to Annapolis with all reasonable speed with this -double-sealed enclosure for Mr. Carvel: and to deliver it to him, and -him only, the very moment I arrived. As I came through your town I made -inquiries, and was told by a black fellow in the Circle that Mr. -Carvel was but just left for Upper Marlboro with a cavalcade of four -coaches-and-six and some dozen gentlemen with their servants. I am sure -my mistake was pardonable, Mr. Carvel,” he concluded with a smirk; “this -gentleman was plainly of the first quality, as was he to whom I was -directed. And as he was about to leave town for I knew not how long, I -hope I was in the right in bidding the black ride after him, for I -give you my word the business was most pressing for him. I crave your -forgiveness, and the pleasure of drinking your honour's health.” - -I barely heard the fellow through, and was turning on my heel in -disgust, when it struck me to ask him what Mr. Carvel he sought, for I -feared lest my grandfather had got into some lawsuit. - -“And it please your honour, Mr. Grafton Carvel,” said he; “your uncle, -I understand. Unfortunately he has gone to his estate in Kent County, -whither I must now follow him.” - -I bade Mr. Claude summon my servant, not stopping to question the man -further, such was my resentment against him. And in ten minutes we were -out of the town again, galloping between the nearly filled tracks of the -coaches, now three hours ahead of us. The storm was increasing, and the -wind cutting, but I dug into Cynthia so that poor Hugo was put to it to -hold the pace, and, tho' he had a pint of rum in him, was near perished -with the cold. As my anger cooled somewhat I began to wonder how Mr. -Silas Ridgeway, whoever he was, could have been such a simpleton as his -story made him out. Indeed, he looked more the rogue than the ass; nor -could I conceive how reliable barristers could hire such a one. I wished -heartily that I had exhausted him further, and a suspicion crossed my -brain that he might have come to Mr. Allen, who had persuaded him to -deliver a letter to Grafton intended for me. Some foreboding beset -me, and I was once close to a full mind for going back, and slacked -Cynthia's pace to a trot. But the thought of the pleasures at Upper -Marlboro' and the hope of overtaking the party at Mr. Dorsey's place, -over the Patuxent, where they looked to dine, decided me in pushing on. -And thus we came to South River, with the snow so thick that we could -scarce see ten yards in front of us. - -Beyond, the road winds up the hill'around the end of Mr. Wiley's -plantation and plunges shortly into the woods, gray and cold indeed -to-day. At their skirt a trail branches off which leads to Mr. Whey's -warehouses, on the water's edge a mile or so below. And I marked that -this path was freshly trodden. I recall a small shock of surprise at -this, for the way was used only in the early autumn to connect with -some fields beyond the hill. And then I heard a sharp cry from Hugo and -pulled Cynthia short. He was some ten paces behind me. - -“Marse Dick!” he shouted, the whites of his eyes rolled up. “We'se gwine -to be robbed, Marse Dick.” And he pointed to the footprints in the snow; -“somefin done tole Hugo not come to-day.” - -“Nonsense!” I cried; “Mr. Wiley is making his lazy beggars cut wood -against Christmas.” - -When in this temper the poor fellow had more fear of me than of aught -else, and he closed up to my horse's flank, glancing apprehensively to -the right and left, his teeth rattling. We went at a brisk trot. We know -not, indeed, how to account for many things in this world, for with. -each beat of Cynthia's feet I found myself repeating the words South -River and Marlboro, and seeking in my mind a connection to something -gone before. Then, like a sudden gust of wind, comes to me that strange -talk between Grafton and the rector, overheard by old Harvey in the -stables at Carvel Hall. And Cynthia's ears were pointing forward. - -With a quick impulse I loosed the lower frogs of my coat, for my sword -was buckled beneath, and was reaching for one of the brace of pistols -in my saddle-bags. I had but released them when Hugo cried out: “Gawd, -Marse Dick, run for yo' life!” and I caught a glimpse of him flying down -the road. As I turned a shot rang out, Cynthia reared high with a rough -brute of a fellow clinging to her bridle. I sent my charge full into his -chest, and as he tumbled in the snow I dug my spurs to the rowels. - -What happened then is still a blurred picture in my brain. I know that -Cynthia was shot from under me before she had taken her leap, and we -fell heavily together. And I was scarcely up again and my sword drawn, -when the villains were pressing me from all sides. I remember spitting -but one, and then I heard a great seafaring oath, the first word out of -their mouths, and I was felled from behind with a mighty blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. THE “BLACK MOLL” - -I have no intention, my dears, of dwelling upon that part of my -adventures which must be as painful to you as to me, the very -recollection of which, after all these years, suffices to cause the -blood within me to run cold. In my youth men whose natures shrank not -from encounter with their enemies lacked not, I warrant you, a checkered -experience. Those of us who are wound the tightest go the farthest and -strike the hardest. Nor is it difficult for one, the last of whose life -is being recorded, to review the outspread roll of it, and trace the -unerring forces which have drawn for themselves. - -Some, indeed, traverse this world weighing, before they partake, -pleasure and business alike. But I am not sure, my children, that they -better themselves; or that God, in His all-wise judgment, prefers them -to such as are guided by the divine impulse with which He has endowed -them. Far be it from me to advise rashness or imprudence, as such; nor -do I believe you will take me so. But I say unto you: do that which is -right, and let God, not man, be your interpreter. - -My narrative awaits me. - -I came to my wits with an immoderate feeling of faintness and sickness, -with no more remembrance of things past than has a man bereft of -reason. And for some time I swung between sense and oblivion before an -overpowering stench forced itself upon my nostrils, accompanied by a -creaking, straining sound and sweeping motion. I could see nothing for -the pitchy blackness. Then I recalled what had befallen me, and cried -aloud to God in my anguish, for I well knew I had been carried aboard -ship, and was at sea. I had oftentimes heard of the notorious press-gang -which supplied the need of the King's navy, and my first thought was -that I had fallen in their clutches. But I wondered that they had dared -attack a person of my consequence. - -I had no pain. I lay in a bunk that felt gritty and greasy to the touch, -and my hair was matted behind by a clot of blood. I had been stripped of -my clothes, and put into some coarse and rough material, the colour and -condition of which I could not see for want of light. I began to cast -about me, to examine the size of the bunk, which I found to be narrow, -and plainly at some distance from the deck, for I laid hold upon one of -the rough beams above me. By its curvature I knew it to be a knee, and -thus I came to the caulked sides of the vessel, and for the first time -heard the rattling thud and swish of water on the far side of it. I had -no sooner made this discovery, which drew from me an involuntary groan, -when a ship's lanthorn was of a sudden thrust over me, and I perceived -behind it a head covered with shaggy hair and beard, and beetling brows. -Never had I been in such a terrifying presence. - -“Damn my blood and bones, life signals at last! Another three bells -gone, my silks and laces, and we had given you to the sharks.” - -The man hung his lanthorn to a hook on the beam, and thrust a -case-bottle of rum toward me, at the same time biting off a great quid -of tobacco. For all my alarm I saw that his manner was not unkindly, and -as I was conscious of a consuming thirst I seized and tipped it eagerly. - -“'Tis no fine Madeira, my blood,” said he, “such as I fancy your palate -is acquainted with. Yet 'tis as fair a Jamaica as ever Griggs put ashore -i' the dark.” - -“Griggs!” I cried, the whole affair coming to me: Griggs, Upper -Marlboro', South River, Grafton and the rector plotting in the stalls, -and Mr. Silas Ridgeway the accomplice. - -“Ay, Griggs,” replied he; “ye may well repeat it, the-------, I'll lay a -puncheon he'll be hailing you shortly. Guinea Griggs, Gold-Coast Griggs, -Smuggler Griggs, Skull-and-Bones Griggs. Damn his soul and eyes, he hath -sent to damnation many a ship's company.” - -He drained what remained of the bottle, took down the lanthorn, and left -me sufficiently terrified to reflect upon my situation, which I found -desperate enough, my dears. I have no words to describe what I went -through in that vile, foul-smelling place. My tears flowed fast when I -thought of my grandfather and of the dear friends I had left behind, and -of Dorothy, whom I never hoped to see again. And then, perchance 'twas -the rum put heart into me, I vowed I would face the matter show this -cut-throat of a Griggs a bold front. Had he meant to murder me, I -reflected, he had done the business long since. Then I fell asleep. - -I awoke, I know not how soon, to discover the same shaggy countenance, -and the lanthorn. - -“Canst walk, Mechlin?” says he. - -“I can try, at least,” I answered. - -He seemed pleased at this. - -“You have courage a-plenty, and, by G--, you will have need of it all -with that of a Griggs!” He gave me his bottle again, and assisted me -down, and I found that my legs, save for the rocking of the ship, were -steady enough. I followed him out of the hole in which I had lain on to -a deck, which, in the half light, I saw covered with slush and filth. -It was small, and but dimly illuminated by a hatchway, up the which I -pushed after him, and then another. And so we came to the light of day, -which near blinded me: so that I was fain to clap my hand to mine eyes, -and stood for a space looking about me like a man dazed. The wind, tho' -blowing stiff, was mild, and league after league of the green sea danced -and foamed in the morning sunlight, and I perceived that I was on a -large schooner under full sail, the crew of which were littered about -at different occupations. Some gaming and some drinking, while on the -forecastle two men were settling a dispute at fisticuffs. And they gave -me no more notice, nor as much, than I had been a baboon thrust among -them. From this indifference to a captive I augured no good. Then my -conductor, whom I rightly judged to be the mate of this devil's crew, -took me roughly by the shoulder and bade me accompany him to the cabin. - -As we drew near the topgallant poop there sounded in my ears a noise -like a tempest, which I soon became aware was a man swearing with a -prodigious vehemence in a fog-horn of a voice. “Sdeath and wounds! Where -is that dog-fish of a Cockle? Damn his entrails, and he is not come -soon, I'll mast-head him naked, by the seven holy spritsails!” And -much more and worse to the same tune until we passed the door and stood -before him, when he let out an oath like the death-cry of a monster. - -He was a short, lean man with a leathery face and long, black ropy hair, -and beady black eyes that caught the light like a cat's. His looks, -indeed, would have scared a timid person into a fit; but I resolved I -would die rather than show the fear with which he inspired me. He was -dressed in an old navy uniform with dirty lace. His cabin was bare -enough, being scattered about with pistols and muskets and cutlasses, -with a ragged pallet in one corner, and he sat behind an oaken table -covered with greasy charts and spilled liquor and tobacco. - -“So ho, you are risen from the dead, are you, my fine buck? Mr. -What-do-they-call-you?” cried the captain, with a word as foul as any -he had yet uttered. “By the Lord, you shall pay for running my bosun -through!” - -“And by the Lord, Captain What's-your-name,” I cried back, for the rum I -had taken had heated me, “you and your fellow-rascals shall pay in blood -for this villanous injury!” - -Griggs got to his feet and seized his hanger, his face like livid marble -seamed with blue. And from force of habit I made motion for my sword, -to make the shameful discovery that I was clothed from head to foot in -linsey-woolsey. - -“G-d---my soul,” he roared, “if I don't slit you like a herring! The -devil burn me to a cinder if I don't give your guts to the sharks!” And -he made at me in such a fury that I would certainly have been cut to -pieces had I not grasped a cutlass and parried his blow, Cockle looking -on with his jaw dropped like a peak without haulyards. With a stroke of -my weapon I disarmed Captain Griggs, his sword flying through the cabin -window. For I made up my mind I would better die fighting than expire at -a hideous torture, which I doubted not he would inflict, and so I took -up a posture of defence, with one eye on the mate; despite the kind -offices of the latter below I knew not whether he were disposed to -befriend me before the captain. What was my astonishment, therefore, to -behold Griggs's truculent manner change. - -“Avast, my man-o-war,” he cried; “blood and wounds! I had more than an -eye when they brought thee aboard, else I would have killed thee like -a sucking-pig under the forecastle, as I have given oath to do. By the -Ghost, you are worth seven of that Roger Spratt whom you sent to hell in -his boots.” - -Wherewith Cockle, who for all his terrible appearance stood in a mighty -awe of his captain, set up a loud laugh, and vowed that Griggs knew a -man when he spared me, and was cursed for his pains. - -“So you were contracted to murder me, Captain Griggs?” said I. - -“Ay,” he replied, a devilish gleam coming into his eye, “but I have now -got you and the money to boot. But harkye, I'll stand by my half of the -bargain, by G--. If ever you reach Maryland alive, they may hang me to -the yardarm of a ship-of-the-line.” - -And I live long enough, my dears, I hope some day to write for you the -account of all that befell me on this slaver, Black Moll, for so she was -called. 'Twould but delay my story now. Suffice it to say that we sailed -for a fortnight or so in the West India seas. From some observations -that fell from the mouth of Griggs I gathered that he was searching for -an island which evaded him; and each day added to his vexation at not -finding it. At times he was drunk for forty hours at a stretch, when -he would shut himself in his cabin and leave his ship to the care of -Cockle, who navigated with the sober portion of the crew. And such a -lousy, brawling lot of convicts I had never clapped eyes upon. As for -me, I was treated indifferently well, though 'twas in truth punishment -enough to live in that filthy ship, to eat their shins of beef and briny -pork and wormy biscuit, to wear rough clothes that chafed my skin. I -shared Cockle's cabin, in every way as dirty a place as the den I had -left, but with the advantage of air, for which I fervently thanked God. - -I think the mate had some little friendship for me, though he was too -hardened by the life he had led to care a deal what became of me. He -encouraged me secretly to continue to beard Griggs as I had begun, -saying that it was my sole chance of a whole skin, and vowing that if he -had had the courage to pursue the same course his own back had not been -checkered like a grating. He told me stories of the captain's cruelty -which I dare not repeat for their very horror, and indeed I lacked not -for instances to substantiate what he said; men with their backs beaten -to a pulp, and others with ears cut off, and mouths slit, and toes -missing. So that I lived in hourly fear lest in some drunken fit -Griggs might command me to be tortured. But, fortunately, he held small -converse with me, and when sober busied himself in trying to find the -island and in cursing the fate by which it eluded him. - -So I existed, and prayed daily for deliverance. I plied Cockle with -questions as to what they purposed doing with me, but he was wont to -turn sulky, and would answer me not a word. But once, when he was deeper -in his cups than common, he let me know that Griggs was to sell me to a -certain planter. You may well believe that this did not serve to liven -my spirits. - -At length, one morning, Captain Griggs came out of his cabin and climbed -upon the poop, calling all hands aft to the quarterdeck. Whereupon he -proceeded to make them a speech that for vileness exceeded aught I have -ever heard before or since. He finished by reminding them that this was -the anniversary of the scuttling of the sloop Jane, which had made them -all rich a year before, off the Canaries; the day that he had sent three -and twenty men over the plank to hell. Wherefore he decreed a holiday, -as the weather was bright and the trades light, and would serve -quadruple portions of rum to every man jack aboard; and they set up a -cheer that started the Mother Careys astern. - -I have no language to depict the bestiality of that day; and if I had I -would think it sin to write of it. The helm was lashed on the port tack, -the haulyards set taut, and all hands down to the lad who was the cook's -scullion proceeded to get drunk. I took the precaution to have a hanger -at my side and to slip one of Cockle's pistols within the band of my -breeches. I was in an exquisite' agony of indecision as to what manner -to act and how to defend myself from their drunken brutality, for I well -knew that if I refused to imbibe with them I should probably be murdered -for my abstemiousness; and, if I drank, the stuff was so near to alcohol -that I could not hope to keep my senses. While in this predicament I -received a polite invitation to partake in the captain's company, -which I did not see my way clear to refuse, and repaired to the cabin -accordingly. - -There I found Griggs and Cockle seated, and a fair-sized barrel of rum -between them that the captain had just moved thither. By way of welcome -he shot at me a volley of curses and bade me to fill up, and through -fear of offending him I took down my first mug with a fair good grace. -Then, in his own particular language, he began the account of the -capture of the Jane, taking care in the pauses to see that my mug was -full. But, as luck would have it, he got no farther than the boarding by -the Black Moll's crew, when he fell to squabbling with Cockle as to who -had been the first man over the side; and while they were settling this -difference I grasped the opportunity to escape. - -The maudlin scene that met my eyes on deck defies description; some -were fighting, others grinning with a hideous laughter, and still others -shouting tavern jokes unspeakable. And suddenly, whilst I was observing -these things from a niche behind the cabin door, I heard the captain -cry from within, “The ensign, the ensign!” Forgetting his dispute with -Cockle, he bumped past me and made his way with some trouble to the -poop. I climbed the ladder after him, and to my horror beheld him in -a drunken frenzy drag a black flag with a rudely painted skull and -cross-bones from the signal-chest, and with uncertain fingers toggle it -to the ensign haulyards and hoist to the peak, where it fluttered grimly -in the light wind like an evil augur on a fair day. At sight of it the -wretches on deck fell to shouting and huzzaing, Griggs standing leering -up at it. Then he gravely pulled off his hat and made it a bow, and -turned upon me. - -“Salute it, ye lubberly! Ye are no first-rate here,” he thundered. -“Salute the flag!” - -Unless fear had kept me sober, 'tis past my understanding why I was not -as drunk as he. Be that as it may, I was near as quarrelsome, and would -as soon have worshipped the golden calf as saluted that rag. I flung -back some reply, and he lugged out and came at me with a spring like a -wild beast; and his men below, seeing us fall out, made a rush for the -poop with knives and cutlasses drawn. Betwixt them all I should soon -have been in slivers had not the main shrouds offered themselves handy. -And up them I sprung, the captain cutting at my legs as I left -the sheer-pole, and I stopped not until I reached the schooner's -cross-trees, where I drew my cutlass. They pranced around the mast and -showered me with oaths, for all the world like a lot of howling dogs -which had treed a cat. - -I began to feel somewhat easier, and cried aloud that the first of -them who came up after me would go down again in two pieces. Despite my -warning a brace essayed to climb the ratlines, as pitiable an attempt as -ever I witnessed, and fell to the deck again. 'Twas a miracle that they -missed falling into the sea. And after a while, becoming convinced -that they could not get at me, and being too far gone to shoot with any -accuracy, they tumbled off the poop swearing to serve me in a hundred -horrible ways when they caught me, and fell again to drinking and -quarrelling amongst themselves. I was indeed in an unenviable plight, -by no means sure that I would not be slain out of hand when they became -sufficiently sober to capture me. As I marked the progress of their -damnable orgy I cast about for some plan to take advantage of their -condition. I observed that a stupor was already beginning to overcome a -few of them. Then suddenly an incident happened to drive all else from -my mind. - -Nothing less, my dears, than a white speck of sail gleaming on the -southern horizon! - -For an hour I watched it, now in a shiver of apprehension lest it pass -us by, now weeping in an ecstasy of joy over a possible deliverance. But -it grew steadily larger, and when about three miles on our port bow I -saw that the ship was a brigantine. Though she had long been in sight -from our deck, 'twas not until now that she was made out by a man on the -forecastle, who set up a cry that brought about him all who could reel -thither, Griggs staggering out of his cabin and to the nettings. The -sight sobered him somewhat, for he immediately shouted orders to cast -loose the guns, himself tearing the breeching from the nine-pounder next -him and taking out the tompion. About half the crew were in a liquorish -stupor from which the trump itself could scarce have aroused them; -the rest responded with savage oaths, swore that they would boil their -suppers in the blood of the brigantine's men and give their corpses to -the sea. They fell to work on the port battery in so ludicrous a manner -that I was fain to laugh despite the gravity of the situation. But when -they came to rig the powderhoist and a couple of them descended into -the magazine with pipes lighted, I was in imminent expectation of being -blown as high as a kite. - -So absorbed had I been in these preparations that I neglected to watch -the brigantine, which I discovered to be standing on and off in a very -undecided manner, as though hesitating to attack. My spirits fell again -at this, for with all my inexperience I knew her to be a better sailer -than the Black Moll. Her master, as Griggs remarked, “was no d--d -slouching lubber, and knew a yardarm from a rattan cane.” - -Finally, about six bells of the watch, the stranger wore ship and bore -down across our bows, hoisting English colours, at sight of which I -could scarce forbear a cheer. At this instant, Captain Griggs woke to -the fact that his helm was still lashed, and bestowing a hearty kick on -his prostrate quartermaster stuck fast to the pitchy seams of the deck, -took the wheel himself, and easing off before the wind to bring the -vessels broadside to broadside, commanded that the guns be shooed to -the muzzle, an order that was barely executed before the brigantine came -within close range. Aboard her was all order and readiness; the men at -her guns fuse in hand, an erect and pompous figure of a man, in a cocked -hat, on the break of her poop. He raised his hand, two puffs of white -smoke darted out, and I heard first the shrieking of shot, the broadside -came crashing round us, one tearing through the mainsail below me, -another mangling two men in the waist of our schooner, and Griggs gave -the order to touch off. But two of his guns answered, one of which had -been so gorged with shot that it burst in a hundred pieces and sent -the fellow with the swab to perdition, and such a hell of blood and -confusion as resulted is indescribable. I saw Griggs in a wild fit of -rage force the helm down, the schooner flying into the wind. And by this -time, the brigantine having got round and presented her port battery, -raked us at a bare hundred yards, and I was the first to guess by the -tilting forward of the mast that our hull was hit between wind and -water, and was fast settling by the bow. - -The schooner was sinking like a gallipot. - -That day, with the sea flashing blue and white in the sun, I saw men go -to death with a curse upon their lips and a fever in their eyes, with -murder and defiance of God's holy will in their hearts. Overtaken in -bestiality, like the judgment of Nineveh, five and twenty disappeared -from beneath me, and I had scarce the time to throw off my cutlass -before I, too, was engulfed. So expired the Black Moll. - - - - -Volume 4. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. A MAN OF DESTINY - -I was picked up and thrown into the brigantine's long-boat with a head -and stomach full of salt water, and a heart as light as spray with the -joy of it all. A big, red-bearded man lifted my heels to drain me. - -“The mon's deid,” said he. - -“Dead!” cried I, from the bottom-board. “No more dead than you!” - -I turned over so lustily that he dropped my feet, and I sat up, -something to his consternation. And they had scarce hooked the ship's -side when I sprang up the sea-ladder, to the great gaping of the boat's -crew, and stood with the water running off me in rivulets before -the captain himself. I shall never forget the look of his face as he -regarded my sorry figure. - -“Now by Saint Andrew,” exclaimed he, “are ye kelpie or pirate?” - -“Neither, captain,” I replied, smiling as the comical end of it came up -to me, “but a young gentleman in misfortune.” - -“Hoots!” says he, frowning at the grinning half-circle about us, “it's -daft ye are--” - -But there he paused, and took of me a second sizing. How he got at my -birth behind my tangled mat of hair and wringing linsey-woolsey I -know not to this day. But he dropped his Scotch and merchant-captain's -manner, and was suddenly a French courtier, making me a bow that had -done credit to a Richelieu. - -“Your servant, Mr.--” - -“Richard Carvel, of Carvel Hall, in his Majesty's province of Maryland.” - -He seemed sufficiently impressed. - -“Your very humble servant, Mr. Carvel. 'Tis in faith a privilege to be -able to serve a gentleman.” - -He bowed me toward his cabin, and then in sharp, quick tones he gave -an order to his mate to get under way, and I saw the men turning to the -braces with wonder in their eyes. My own astonishment was as great. And -so, with my clothes sucking to my body and a trail of water behind me -like that of a wet walrus, I accompanied the captain aft. His quarters -were indeed a contrast to those of Griggs, being so neat that I paused -at the door for fear of profaning them; but was so courteously bid to -enter that I came on again. He summoned a boy from the round house. - -“William,” said he, “a bottle of my French brandy. And my compliments -to Mr. MacMuir, and ask him for a suit of clothes. You are a larger man -than I, Mr. Carvel,” he said to me, “or I would fit you out according to -your station.” - -I was too overwhelmed to speak. He poured out a liberal three fingers -of brandy, and pledged me as handsomely as I had been an admiral -come thither in mine own barge, instead of a ragged lad picked off a -piratical slaver, with nothing save my bare word and address. 'Twas then -I had space to note him more particularly. His skin was the rich colour -of a well-seasoned ship's bell, and he was of the middle height, owned -a slight, graceful figure, tapering down at the waist like a top, which -had set off a silk coat to perfection and soured the beaus with envy. -His movements, however, had all the decision of a man of action and of -force. But his eye it was took possession of me--an unfathomable, dark -eye, which bore more toward melancholy than sternness, and yet had -something of both. He wore a clean, ruffled shirt, an exceeding neat -coat and breeches of blue broadcloth, with plate burnished buttons, and -white cotton stockings. Truly, this was a person to make one look twice, -and think oftener. Then, as I went to pledge him, I, too, was caught for -his name. - -“Paul,” said he; “John Paul, of the brigantine John, of Kirkcudbright, -in the West India trade.” - -“Captain Paul--” I began. But my gratitude stuck fast in my throat and -flowed out of my eyes. For the thought of the horrors from which he -had saved me for the first time swept over me; his own kind treatment -overcame me, and I blubbered like a child. With that he turned his back. - -“Hoots,” says he, again, “dinna ye thank me. 'Tis naething to scuttle a -nest of vermin, but the duty of ilka man who sails the seas.” By this, -having got the better of his emotion, he added: “And if it has been my -good fortune to save a gentleman, Mr. Carvel, I thank God for it, as you -must.” - -Save for a slackness inside the leg and in the hips, Macbluir's clothes -fitted me well enough, and presently I reappeared in the captain's cabin -rigged out in the mate's shore suit of purplish drab, and brass-buckled -shoes that came high over the instep, with my hair combed clear and -tied with a ribbon behind. I felt at last that I might lay some claim to -respectability. And what was my surprise to find Captain Paul buried to -his middle in a great chest, and the place strewn about with laced and -broidered coats and waistcoats, frocks and Newmarkets, like any tailor's -shop in Church Street. So strange they looked in those tropical seas -that he was near to catching me in a laugh as he straightened up. 'Twas -then I noted that he was a younger man than I had taken him for. - -“You gentlemen from the southern colonies are too well nourished, by -far,” says he; “you are apt to be large of chest and limb. 'Odds bods, -Mr. Carvel, it grieves me to see you apparelled like a barber surgeon. -If the good Lord had but made you smaller, now,” and he sighed, “how -well this skyblue frock had set you off.” - -“Indeed, I am content, and more, captain,” I replied with a smile, “and -thankful to be safe amongst friends. Never, I assure you, have I had -less desire for finery.” - -“Ay,” said he, “you may well say that, you who have worn silk all your -life, and will the rest of it, and we get safe to port. But believe me, -sir, the pleasure of seeing one of your face and figure in such a coat -as that would not be a small one.” - -And disregarding my blushes and protests, he held up the watchet blue -frock against me, and it was near fitting me but for my breadth,--the -skirts being prodigiously long. I wondered mightily what tailor had -thrust this garment upon him; its fashion was of the old king's time, -the cuffs slashed like a sea-officer's uniform, and the shoulders made -carefully round. But other thoughts were running within me then. - -“Captain,” I cut in, “you are sailing eastward.” - -“Yes, yes,” he answered absently, fingering some Point d'Espagne. - -“There is no chance of touching in the colonies?” I persisted. - -“Colonies! No,” said he, in the same abstraction; “I am making for the -Solway, being long overdue. But what think you of this, Mr. Carvel?” - -And he held up a wondrous vellum-hole waistcoat of a gone-by vintage, -and I saw how futile it were to attempt to lead him, while in that -state of absorption, to topics which touched my affair. Of a sudden -the significance of what he had said crept over me, the word Solway -repeating itself in my mind. That firth bordered England itself, -and Dorothy was in London! I became reconciled. I had no particle of -objection to the Solway save the uneasiness my grandfather would come -through, which was beyond helping. Fate had ordered things well. - -Then I fell to applauding, while the captain tried on (for he was not -content with holding up) another frock of white drab, which, cuffs and -pockets, I'll take my oath mounted no less than twenty-four: another -plain one of pink cut-velvet; tail-coats of silk, heavily broidered with -flowers, and satin waistcoats with narrow lace. He took an inconceivable -enjoyment out of this parade, discoursing the while, like a nobleman -with nothing but dress in his head, or, perhaps, like a mastercutter, -about the turn of this or that lapel, the length from armpit to fold, -and the number of button-holes that was proper. And finally he exhibited -with evident pride a pair of doeskins that buttoned over the calf to be -worn with high shoes, which I make sure he would have tried on likewise -had he been offered the slightest encouragement. So he exploited the -whole of his wardrobe, such an unlucky assortment of finery as I never -wish to see again; all of which, however, became him marvellously, -though I think he had looked well in anything. I hope I may be forgiven -the perjury I did that day. I wondered greatly that such a foible should -crop out in a man of otherwise sound sense and plain ability. - -At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had -exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned -to me as a man come out of a trance. - -“Od's fish, Mr. Carvel,” he cried, “you will be starved. I had forgot -your state.” - -I owned that hunger had nigh overcome me, whereupon he became very -solicitous, bade the boy bring in supper at once, and in a short time -we sat down together to the best meal I had seen for a month. It seemed -like a year. Porridge, and bacon nicely done, and duff and ale, with the -sea rushing past the cabin windows as we ate, touched into colour by the -setting sun. Captain Paul did not mess with his mates, not he, and -he gave me to understand that I was to share his cabin, apologizing -profusely for what he was pleased to call poor fare. He would have it -that he, and not I, were receiving favour. - -“My dear sir,” he said once, “you cannot know what a bit of finery is -to me, who has so little chance for the wearing of it. To discuss with -a gentleman, a connoisseur (I know a bit of French, Mr. Carvel), is a -pleasure I do not often come at.” - -His simplicity in this touched me; it was pathetic. - -“How know you I am a gentleman, Captain Paul?” I asked curiously. - -“I should lack discernment, sir,” he retorted, with some heat, “if -I could not see as much. Breeding shines through sack-cloth, sir. -Besides,” he continued, in a milder tone, “the look of you is candour -itself. Though I have not greatly the advantage of you in age, I have -seen many men, and I know that such a face as yours cannot lie.” - -Here Mr. Lowrie, the second mate, came in with a report; and I remarked -that he stood up hat in hand whilst making it, very much as if Captain -Paul commanded a frigate. The captain went to a locker and brought -forth some mellow Madeira, and after the mate had taken a glass of it -standing, he withdrew. Then we lighted pipes and sat very cosey with a -lanthorn swung between us, and Captain Paul expressed a wish to hear my -story. - -I gave him my early history briefly, dwelling but casually upon -the position enjoyed in Maryland by my family; but I spoke of my -grandfather, now turning seventy, gray-haired in the service of King -and province. The captain was indeed a most sympathetic listener, now -throwing in a question showing keen Scotch penetration, and anon making -a most ludicrous inquiry as to the dress livery our footmen wore, and -whether Mr. Carvel used outriders when he travelled abroad. This was the -other side of the man. As the wine warmed and the pipe soothed, I spoke -at length of Grafton and the rector; and when I came to the wretched -contrivance by which they got me aboard the Black Moll, he was stalking -hither and thither about the cabin, his fists clenched and his voice -thick, breaking into Scotch again and vowing that hell were too good for -such as they. - -His indignation, which seemed real and generous, transformed him into -another man. He showered question after question upon me concerning my -uncle and Mr. Allen; declared that he had known many villains, but had -yet to hear of their equals; and finally, cooling a little, gave it as -his judgment that the crime could never be brought home to them. This -was my own opinion. He advised me, before we turned in, to “gie the -parson a Grunt” as soon as ever I could lay hands upon him. - - -The John made a good voyage for that season, with fair winds and clear -skies for the most part. 'Twas a stout ship and a steady, with generous -breadth of beam, and kept by the master as clean and bright as his -porringer. He was Emperor aboard her. He spelt Command with a large C, -and when he inspected, his jacks stood to attention like man-o'-war's -men. The John mounting only four guns, and but two of them ninepounders, -I expressed my astonishment that he had dared attack a pirate craft like -the Black Moll, without knowing her condition and armament. - -“Richard,” says he, impressively, for we had become very friendly, “I -would close with a thirty-two and she flew that flag. Why, sir, a bold -front is half the battle, using circumspection, of a course. A pretty -woman, whatever her airs and quality, is to be carried the same way, and -a man ought never to be frightened by appearances.” - -Sometimes, at our meals, we discussed politics. But he seemed lukewarm -upon this subject. He had told me that he had a brother William in -Virginia, who was a hot Patriot. The American quarrel seemed to interest -him very little. I should like to underscore this last sentence, my -dears, in view of what comes after. What he said on the topic leaned -perhaps to the King's side, tho' he was careful to say nothing that -would give me offence. I was not surprised, for I had made a fair -guess of his ambitions. It is only honest to declare that in my soberer -moments my estimate of his character suffered. But he was a strange -man,--a genius, as I soon discovered, to rouse the most sluggish nature -to enthusiasm. - -The joy of sailing is born into some men, and those who are marked for -the sea go down thither like the very streams, to be salted. Whatever -the sign, old Stanwix was not far wrong when he read it upon me, and -'twas no great while before I was part and parcel of the ship beneath -my feet, breathing deep with her every motion. What feeling can compare -with that I tasted when the brigantine lay on her side, the silver spray -hurling over the bulwarks and stinging me to life! Or, in the watches, -to hear the sea lashing along her strakes in never ending music! I -gave MacMuir his shore suit again, and hugely delighted and astonished -Captain Paul by donning a jacket of Scotch wool and a pair of seaman's -boots, and so became a sailor myself. I had no mind to sit idle the -passage, and the love of it, as I have said, was in me. In a fortnight -I went aloft with the best of the watch to reef topsails, and trod a -foot-rope without losing head or balance, bent an easing, and could lay -hand on any lift, brace, sheet, or haulyards in the racks. John Paul -himself taught me to tack and wear ship, and MacMuir to stow a headsail. -The craft came to me, as it were, in a hand-gallop. - -At first I could make nothing of the crew, not being able to understand -a word of their Scotch; but I remarked, from the first, that they were -sour and sulky, and given to gathering in knots when the captain or -MacMuir had not the deck. For Mr. Lowrie, poor man, they had little -respect. But they plainly feared the first mate, and John Paul most of -all. Of me their suspicion knew no bounds, and they would give me -gruff answers, or none, when I spoke to them. These things roused both -curiosity and foreboding within me. - -Many a watch I paced thro' with MacMuir, big and red and kindly, and I -was not long in letting him know of the interest which Captain Paul -had inspired within me. His own feeling for him was little short of -idolatry. I had surmised much as to the rank of life from which the -captain had sprung, but my astonishment was great when I was told that -John Paul was the son of a poor gardener. - -“A gardener's son, Mr. MacMuir!” I repeated. - -“Just that,” said he, solemnly, “a guid man an' haly' was auld Paul. -Unco puir, by reason o' seven bairns. I kennt the daddie weel. I mak -sma' doubt the captain'll tak ye hame wi' him, syne the mither an' -sisters still be i' the cot i' Mr. Craik's croft.” - -“Tell me, MacMuir,” said I, “is not the captain in some trouble?” - -For I knew that something, whatever it was, hung heavy on John Paul's -mind as we drew nearer Scotland. At times his brow would cloud and he -would fall silent in the midst of a jest. And that night, with the stars -jumping and the air biting cold (for we were up in the 40's), and the -John wish-washing through the seas at three leagues the hour, MacMuir -told me the story of Mungo Maxwell. You may read it for yourselves, my -dears, in the life of John Paul Jones. - -“Wae's me!” he said, with a heave of his big chest, “I reca' as yestreen -the night Maxwell cam aboord. The sun gaed loon a' bluidy, an' belyve -the morn rose unco mirk an' dreary, wi' bullers (rollers) frae the west -like muckle sowthers (soldiers) wi' white plumes. I tauld the captain -'twas a' the faut o' Maxwell. I ne'er cad bide the blellum. Dour an' din -he was, wi' ae girn like th' auld hornie. But the captain wadna hark to -my rede when I tauld him naught but dool wad cooin o' taking Mungo.” - -It seemed that John Paul, contrary to MacMuir's advice, had shipped as -carpenter on the voyage out--near seven months since--a man by the name -of Mungo Maxwell. The captain's motive had nothing in it but kindness, -and a laudable desire to do a good turn to a playmate of his boyhood. As -MacMuir said, “they had gaed barefit thegither amang the braes.” The -man hailed from Kirkbean, John Paul's own parish. But he had within -him little of the milk of kindness, being in truth a sour and mutinous -devil; and instead of the gratitude he might have shown, he cursed the -fate that had placed him under the gardener's son, whom he deemed no -better than himself. The John had scarce cleared the Solway before -Maxwell showed signs of impudence and rebellion. - -The crew was three-fourths made of Kirkcudbright men who had known the -master from childhood, many of them, indeed, being older than he; they -were mostly jealous of Paul, envious of the command he had attained -to over them, and impatient under the discipline he was ever ready to -inflict. 'Tis no light task to enforce obedience from those with whom -one has birdnested. But, having more than once felt the weight of his -hand, they feared him. - -Dissatisfaction among such spreads apace, if a leader is but given; and -Maxwell was such a one. His hatred for John Paul knew no bounds, and, -having once tasted of his displeasure, he lay awake o' nights scheming -to ruin him. And this was the plot: when the Azores should be in the -wake, Captain Paul was to be murdered as he paced his quarterdeck in the -morning, the two mates clapt into irons, and so brought to submission. -And Maxwell, who had no more notion of navigation than a carpenter -should, was to take the John to God knows where,--the Guinea coast, -most probably. He would have no more navy regulations on a merchant -brigantine, he promised them, nor banyan days, for the matter o' that. - -Happily, MacMuir himself discovered the affair on the eve of its -perpetration, overhearing two men talking in the breadroom, and he -ran to the cabin with the sweat standing out on his forehead. But the -captain would have none of the precautions he urged; declared he would -walk the deck as usual, and vowed he could cope single-handed with a -dozen cowards like Maxwell. Sure enough, at crowdie-time, the men were -seen coming aft, with Maxwell in the van carrying a bowl, on the pretext -of a complaint against the cook. - -“John Paul,” said MacMuir, with admiration in his voice and gesture, -“John Paul wasna feart a pickle, but gaed to the mast, whyles I stannt -chittering i' my claes, fearfu' for his life. He teuk the horns from -Mungo, priet (tasted) a soup o' the crowdie, an' wi' that he seiz't haut -o' the man by baith shouthers ere the blastie (scoundrel) raught for 's -knife. My aith upo't, sir, the lave (rest) o' the batch cowert frae his -e'e for a' the wand like thumpit tykes.'” - -So ended that mutiny, by the brave act of a brave man. The carpenter -was clapt into irons himself, and given no less of the cat-o'-nine-tails -than was good for him, and properly discharged at Tobago with such as -had supported him. But he brought Captain Paul before the vice-admiralty -court of that place, charging him with gross cruelty, and this -proceeding had delayed the brigantine six months from her homeward -voyage, to the great loss of her owners. And tho' at length the captain -was handsomely acquitted, his character suffered unjustly, for there -lacked not those who put their own interpretation upon the affair. He -would most probably lose the brigantine. “He expected as much,” said -MacMuir. - -“There be mony aboord,” he concluded, with a sigh, “as'll muckle gash -(gossip) when we win to Kirkcudbright.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX. A SAD HOME-COMING - -Mr. Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, the Dumfries bo'sun, both of whom would -have died for the captain, assured me of the truth of MacMuir's story, -and shook their heads gravely as to the probable outcome. The peculiar -water-mark of greatness that is woven into some men is often enough -to set their own community bitter against them. Sandie, the plodding -peasant, finds it a hard matter to forgive Jamie, who is taken from the -plough next to his, and ends in Parliament. The affair of Mungo Maxwell, -altered to suit, had already made its way on more than one vessel to -Scotland. For according to Lowrie, there was scarce a man or woman in -Kirkcudbrightshire who did not know that John Paul was master of the -John, and (in their hearts) that he would be master of more in days to -come. Human nature is such that they resented it, and cried out aloud -against his cruelty. - -On the voyage I had many sober thoughts of my own to occupy me of the -terrible fate, from which, by Divine inter position, I had been rescued; -of the home I had left behind. I was all that remained to Mr. Carvel in -the world, and I was sure that he had given me up for dead. How had he -sustained the shock? I saw him heavily mounting the stairs upon Scipicks -arm when first the news was brought to him. Next Grafton would come -hurrying in from Kent to Marlboro Street, disavowing all knowledge of -the messenger from New York, and intent only upon comforting his father. -And when I pictured my uncle soothing him to his face, and grinning -behind his bed-curtains, my anger would scald me, and the realization of -my helplessness bring tears of very bitterness. - -What would I not have given then for one word with that honest and -faithful friend of our family, Captain Daniel! I knew that he suspected -Grafton: he had told me as much that night at the Coffee House. Perhaps -the greatest of my fears was that my uncle would deny him access to Mr. -Carvel when he returned from the North. - -In the evening, when the sun settled red upon the horizon, I would think -of Patty and my friends in Gloucester Street. For I knew they missed me -sadly of a Sunday at the supper-table. But it has ever been my nature -to turn forward instead of back, and to accept the twists and flings of -fortune with hope rather than with discouragement. And so, as we left -league after, league of the blue ocean behind us, I would set my face to -the forecastle. For Dorothy was in England. - -On a dazzling morning in March, with the brigantine running like a -beagle in full cry before a heaping sea that swayed her body,--so I -beheld for the first time the misty green of the high shores of Ireland. -Ah! of what heroes' deeds was I capable as I watched the lines come -out in bold relief from a wonderland of cloud! With what eternal life I -seemed to tingle! 'Twas as though I, Richard Carvel, had discovered all -this colour; and when a tiny white speck of a cottage came out on the -edge of the cliff, I thought irresistibly of the joy to live there the -year round with Dorothy, with the wind whistling about our gables, and -the sea thundering on the rocks far below. Youth is in truth a mystery. - -How long I was gazing at the shifting coast I know not, for a strange -wildness was within me that made me forget all else, until suddenly -I became conscious of a presence at my side, and turned to behold the -captain. - -“'Tis a braw sight, Richard,” said he, “but no sae bonnie as auld -Scotland. An' the wind hands, we shall see her shores the morn.” - -His voice broke, and I looked again to see two great tears rolling upon -his cheeks. - -“Ah, Scotland!” he pressed on, heedless of them, “God aboon kens what -she is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie.” And he -walked to the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men who -had come aft to splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. I -followed him, emboldened to speak at last what was in me. - -“Captain Paul,” said I, “MacMuir has told me of your trouble. My -grandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,”--here I paused for -suitable words, as I could not solve his expression,--“you, sir, whose -bravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want for -friends and money.” - -He heard me through. - -“Mr. Carvel,” he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback, -“reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen.” - -And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentioned -money. And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor less -than a master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the common -in such a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affection -for him been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I had -laughed over his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that when -I had reached London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should be -rewarded despite his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should have -one of my grandfather's. - -But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had more -cause than ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence and -aloofness. He talked gayly on a score of subjects,--on dress, of which -he was never tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America, -in a fashion that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nor -did he lack for wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had wined -him, and had me much in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth, -jingling the glasses in many toasts, for he had a list of healths to -make me gasp, near as long as the brigantine's articles,--Inez in Havana -and Maraquita in Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, each -had her separate charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relict -of a customs official, Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto a -midnight brush with a lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fair -widow figured, and showed her preference, too. But his adoration for the -ladies of the more northern colonies, he would have me to understand, -was unbounded. For example, Miss Arabella Pope of Norfolk, in -Virginia,--and did I know her? No, I had not that pleasure, though I -assured him the Popes of Virginia were famed. Miss Pope danced divinely -as any sylph, and the very memory of her tripping at the Norfolk -Assembly roused the captain to such a pitch of enthusiasm as I had never -seen in him. Marvellous to say, his own words failed him, and he had -recourse to the poets: - - “Her feet beneath her petticoat - Like little mice stole in and out, - As if they feared the light; - But, oh, she dances such a way! - No sun upon an Easter-day - Is half so fine a sight.” - -The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave them -standing, in excellent voice and elegant gesture. - -He was in particular partial to the poets, could quote at will from Gay -and Thomson and Goldsmith and Gray, and even from Shakespeare, much -to my own astonishment and humiliation. Saving only Dr. Courtenay -of Annapolis I had never met his equal for versatility of speech and -command of fine language; and, having heard that he had been at sea -since the age of twelve, I made bold to ask him at what school he had -got his knowledge. - -“At none, Richard,” he answered with pride, “saving the rudiments at the -Parish School at Kirkbean. Why, sir, I hold it to be within every -man's province to make himself what he will, and I early recognized in -Learning the only guide for such as me. I may say that I married her for -the furtherance of my fortunes, and have come to love her for her own -sake. Many and many the 'tween-watch have I passed in a coil of rope in -the tops, a volume of the classics in my hand. And 'my happiest days, -when not at sea, have been spent in my brother William's little library. -He hath a modest estate near Fredericksburg, in Virginia, and none holds -higher than he the worth of an education. Ah, Richard,” he added, with -a certain sadness, “I fear you little know the value of that which hath -been so lavishly bestowed upon you. There is no creation in the world to -equal your fine gentleman!” - -It struck me indeed as strange that a man of his powers should set store -by such trumpery, and, too, that these notions had not impaired his -ability as a seaman. I did not reply. He gave no heed, however, but drew -from a case a number of odes and compositions, which he told me were -his own. They were addressed to various of his enamouritas, abounded in -orrery, and were all, I make no doubt, incredibly fine, tho' not so -much as one sticks in my mind. To speak truth I listened with a very ill -grace, longing the while to be on deck, for we were about to sight the -Isle of Man. The wine and the air of the cabin had made my eyes heavy. -But presently, when he had run through with some dozen or more, he put -them by, and with a quick motion got from his chair, a light coming into -his dark eyes that startled me to attention. And I forgot the merchant -captain, and seemed to be looking forward into the years. - -“Mark you, Richard,” said he, “mark well when I say that my time will -come, and a day when the best of them will bow to me. And every ell of -that triumph shall be mine, sir,-ay, every inch!” - -Such was his force, which sprang from some hidden fire within him, that -I believed his words as firmly as they had been writ down in the Book of -Isaiah. Brimming over with enthusiasm, I pledged his coming greatness in -a reaming glass of Malaga. - -“Alack,” he cried, “an' they all had your faith, laddie, a fig for the -prophecy! Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle.” - -There was more of wisdom in this than I dreamed of then. Here lay hid -the very keynote of that ambitious character: he stooped to nothing less -than greatness for a triumph over his slanderers. - -I rose betimes the next morning to find the sun peeping above the -wavy line of the Scottish hills far up the. Solway, and the brigantine -sliding smoothly along in the lee of the Galloway Rhinns. And, though -the month was March, the slopes of Burrow Head were green as the lawn of -Carvel Hall in May, and the slanting rays danced on the ruffed water. By -eight of the clock we had crept into Kirkcudbright Bay and anchored off -St. Mary's Isle, the tide running ebb, and leaving a wide brown belt of -sand behind it. - -St. Mary's Isle! As we looked upon it that day, John Paul and I, and -it lay low against the bright water with its bare oaks and chestnuts -against the dark pines, 'twas perhaps as well that the future was sealed -to us. - -Captain Paul had conned the brigantine hither with a master's hand; but -now that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I had -donned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangway -when the captain approached me. - -“What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?” he asked kindly. - -What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent upon -my benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept any -return I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him again -for his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him I -should be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage to -London upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affection -for him having grown-past my understanding. - -“Hoots!” he replied, moved in his turn, “whyles I hae siller ye shallna -lack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station.” - -And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me be -ready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewell -to MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For the -honest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speech -when he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it. - -“But you will be needing it, MacMuir,” I said, suspecting he had no -other. - -“Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the claw -frae London, wi' this geordie.” - -He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take; -and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into the -stern of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through the -little fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck for -a parting look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainly -shoulders over the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted a -hearty “God speed” after me. - -As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at the -mouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on the -wharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got within -twenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchief -called out: - -“What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?” - -“CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie,” spoke up a coarse fellow with a -rough beard. And a laugh went round. - -“Ay, captain! I'll captain him!” screamed the carlin, pushing to -the front as the oars were tossed, “I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll be -captaining him for his towmond voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for ye -noo, John Paul.” With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceiving -that matters were likely to go ill with the captain, began to chaff -with their friends above. The respect with which he had inspired them, -however, prevented any overt insult on their part. As for me, my temper -had flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by -instinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The -beldame saw the motion. - -“An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin -gowk?” - -The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant -violence,--nothing less. But they had counted without their man, for -Paul was born to ride greater crises. With his lips set in a line he -stepped lightly out of the boat into their very midst, and they looked -into his eyes to forget time and place. MacMuir had told me how those -eyes could conquer mutiny, but I had not believed had I trot been -thereto see the pack of them give back in sullen wonder. And so we -walked through and on to the little street beyond, and never a word from -the captain until we came opposite the sign of the Hurcheon.” - -“Do you await me here, Richard,” he said quite calmly; “I mast seek Mr. -Currie, and make my report.” - -I have still the remembrance of that pitiful day in the clean little -village. I went into the inn and sat down upon an oak settle in a corner -of the bar, under the high lattice, and thought of the bitterness of -this home-coming. If I was amongst strangers, he was amongst worse: -verily, to have one's own people set against one is heaviness of heart -to a man whose love of Scotland was great as John Paul's. After a while -the place began to fill, Willie and Robbie and Jamie arriving to discuss -Paul's return over their nappy. The little I could make of their talk -was not to my liking, but for the captain's sake I kept my anger under -as best I could, for I had the sense to know that brawling with a lot -of alehouse frequenters would not advance his cause. At length, however, -came in the same sneering fellow I had marked on the wharf, calling -loudly for swats. “Ay, Captain Paul was noo at Mr. Curries, syne banie -Alan seed him gang forbye the kirk.” The speaker's name, I learned, was -Davie, and he had been talking with each and every man in the long-boat. -Yes, Mungo Maxwell had been cat-o'-ninetailed within an inch of his -life; and that was the truth; for a trifling offence, too; and cruelly -discharged at some outlandish port because, forsooth, he would not -accept the gospel of the divinity of Captain Paul. He would as soon sign -papers with the devil. - -This Davie was gifted with a dangerous kind of humour which I have -heard called innuendo, and he soon had the bar packed with listeners who -laughed and cursed turn about, filling the room to a closeness scarce -supportable. And what between the foul air and my resentment, and -apprehension lest John Paul would come hither after me, I was in -prodigious discomfort of body and mind. But there was no pushing my way -through them unnoticed, wedged as I was in a far corner; so I sat still -until unfortunately, or fortunately, the eye of Davie chanced to fall -upon me, and immediately his yellow face lighted malignantly. - -“Oh! here be the gentleman the captain's brocht hame!” he cried, -emphasizing the two words; “as braw a gentleman as eer taen frae -pirates, an' nae doubt sin to ae bien Buckskin bonnet-laird.” - -I saw through his game of getting satisfaction out of John Paul thro' -goading me, and determined he should have his fill of it. For, all in -all, he had me mad enough to fight three times over. - -“Set aside the gentleman,” said I, standing up and taking off MacMuir's -coat, “and call me a lubberly clout like yourself, and we will see which -is the better clout.” I put off the longsleeved jacket, and faced him -with my fists doubled, crying: “I'll teach you, you spawn of a dunghill, -to speak ill of a good man!” - -A clamour of “Fecht! fecht!” arose, and some of them applauded me, -calling me a “swankie,” which I believe is a compliment. A certain sense -of fairness is often to be found where least expected. They capsized -the fat, protesting browsterwife over her own stool, and were pulling -Jamie's coat from his back, when I began to suspect that a fight was not -to the sniveller's liking. Indeed, the very look of him made me laugh -out--'twas now as mild as a summer's morn. - -“Wow,” says Jamie, “ye maun fecht wi' a man o' yere ain size.” - -“I'll lay a guinea that we weigh even,” said I; and suddenly remembered -that I had not so much as tuppence to bless me. - -Happily he did not accept the wager. In huge disgust they hustled him -from the inn and put forward the blacksmith, who was standing at the -door in his leather apron. Now I had not bargained with the smith, who -seemed a well-natured enough man, and grinned broadly at the prospect. -But they made a ring on the floor, I going over it at one end, and he -at the other, when a cry came from the street, those about the entrance -parted, and in walked John Paul himself. At sight of him my new -adversary, who was preparing to deal me out a blow to fell an ox, -dropped his arms in surprise, and held out his big hand. - -“Haith! John Paul,” he shouted heartily, forgetting me, “'tis blythe I -am to see yere bonnie face ance mair! - -“An' wha are ye, Jamie Darrell,” said the captain, “to be bangin' yere -betters? Dinna ye ken gentry when ye see't?” - -A puzzled look spread over the smith's grimy face. - -“Gentry!” says he; “nae gentry that I ken, John Paul. Th' fecht be but a -bit o' fun, an' nane o' my seekin'.” - -“What quarrel is this, Richard?” says John Paul to me. - -“In truth I have no quarrel with this honest man,” I replied; “I desired -but the pleasure of beating a certain evil-tongued Davie, who seems to -have no stomach for blows, and hath taken his lies elsewhere.” - -So quiet was the place that the tinkle of the guidwife's needle, which -she had dropped to the flags, sounded clear to all. John Paul stood in -the middle of the ring, erect, like a man inspired, and the same strange -sense of prophecy that had stirred my blood crept over him and awed the -rest, as tho' 'twere suddenly given to see him, not as he was, but as he -would be. Then he spoke. - -“You, who are my countrymen, who should be my oldest and best friends, -are become my enemies. You who were companions of my childhood are -revilers of my manhood; you have robbed me of my good name and my -honour, of my ship, of my very means of livelihood, and you are not -content; you would rob me of my country, which I hold dearer than all. -And I have never done you evil, nor spoken aught against you. As for -the man Maxwell, whose part you take, his child is starving in your very -midst, and you have not lifted your hands. 'Twas for her sake I shipped -him, and none other. May God forgive you! He alone sees the bitterness -in my heart this day. He alone knows my love for Scotland, and what it -costs me to renounce her.” - -He had said so much with an infinite sadness, and I read a response in -the eyes of more than one of his listeners, the guidwife weeping aloud. -But now his voice rose, and he ended with a fiery vigour. - -“Renounce her I do,” he cried, “now and forevermore! Henceforth I am -no countryman of yours. And if a day of repentance should come for this -evil, remember well what I have said to you.” - -They stood for a moment when he had finished, shifting uneasily, their -tongues gone, like lads caught in a lie. I think they felt his greatness -then, and had any one of them possessed the nobility to come forward -with an honest word, John Paul might yet have been saved to Scotland. -As it was, they slunk away in twos and threes, leaving at last only the -good smith with us. He was not a man of talk, and the tears had washed -the soot from his face in two white furrows. - -“Ye'll hae a waught wi' me afore ye gang, John,” he said clumsily, “for -th' morns we've paddl' 't thegither i' th' Nith.” - -The ale was brought by the guidwife, who paused, as she put it down, to -wipe her eyes with her apron. She gave John Paul one furtive glance and -betook herself again to her knitting with a sigh, speech having failed -her likewise. The captain grasped up his mug. - -“May God bless you, Jamie,” he said. - -“Ye'll be gaen noo to see the mither,” said Jamie, after a long space. - -“Ay, for the last time. An', Jamie, ye'll see that nae harm cams to her -when I'm far awa'?” - -The smith promised, and also agreed to have John Paul's chests sent by -wagon, that very day, to Dumfries. And we left him at his forge, his -honest breast torn with emotion, looking after us. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. THE GARDENER'S COTTAGE - -So we walked out of the village, with many a head craned after us and -many an eye peeping from behind a shutter, and on into the open highway. -The day was heavenly bright, the wind humming around us and playing mad -pranks with the white cotton clouds, and I forgot awhile the pity within -me to wonder at the orderly look of the country, the hedges with never a -stone out of place, and the bars always up. The ground was parcelled off -in such bits as to make me smile when I remembered our own wide tracts -in the New World. Here waste was sin: with us part and parcel of a -creed. I marvelled, too, at the primness and solidity of the houses -along the road, and remarked how their lines belonged rather to the -landscape than to themselves. But I was conscious ever of a strange wish -to expand, for I felt as tho' I were in the land of the Liliputians, -and the thought of a gallop of forty miles or so over these honeycombed -fields brought me to a laugh. But I was yet to see some estates of the -gentry. - -I had it on my tongue's tip to ask the captain whither he was taking -me, yet dared not intrude on the sorrow that still gripped him. Time -and time we met people plodding along, some of them nodding uncertainly, -others abruptly taking the far side of the pike, and every encounter -drove the poison deeper into his soul. But after we had travelled some -way, up hill and down dale, he vouchsafed the intelligence that we were -making for Arbigland, Mr. Craik's seat near Dumfries, which lies on the -Nith twenty miles or so up the Solway from Kirkcudbright. On that estate -stood the cottage where John Paul was born, and where his mother and -sisters still dwelt. - -“I'll juist be saying guidbye, Richard,” he said; “and leave them a -bit siller I hae saved, an' syne we'll be aff to London thegither, for -Scotland's no but a cauld kintra.” - -“You are going to London with me?” I cried. - -“Ay,” answered he; “this is hame nae mair for John Paul.” - -I made bold to ask how the John's owners had treated him. - -“I have naught to complain of, laddie,” he answered; “both Mr. Beck and -Mr. Currie bore the matter of the admiralty court and the delay like the -gentlemen they are. They well know that I am hard driven when I resort -to the lash. They were both sore at losing me, and says Mr. Beck: I -We'll not soon get another to keep the brigantine like a man-o'-war, as -did you, John Paul.' I thanked him, and told him I had sworn never to -take another merchantman out of the Solway. And I will keep that oath.” - -He sighed, and added that he never hoped for better owners. In token -of which he drew a certificate of service from his pocket, signed by -Messrs. Currie and Beck, proclaiming him the best master and supercargo -they had ever had in their service. I perceived that talk lightened him, -and led him on. I inquired how he had got the 'John'. - -“I took passage on her from Kingston, laddie. On the trip both Captain -Macadam and the chief mate died of the fever. And it was I, the -passenger, who sailed her into Kirkcudbright, tho' I had never been more -than a chief mate before. That is scarce three years gone, when I was -just turned one and twenty. And old Mr. Currie, who had known my father, -was so pleased that he gave me the ship. I had been chief mate of the -'Two Friends', a slaver out of Kingston.” - -“And so you were in that trade!” I exclaimed. - -He seemed to hesitate. - -“Yes,” he replied, “and sorry I am to say it. But a man must live. It -was no place for a gentleman, and I left of my own accord. Before that, -I was on a slaver out of Whitehaven.” - -“You must know Whitehaven, then.” - -I said it only to keep the talk going, but I remembered the remark long -after. - -“I do,” said he. “'Tis a fair sample of an English coast town. And I -have often thought, in the event of war with France, how easy 'twould -be for Louis's cruisers to harry the place, and an hundred like it, and -raise such a terror as to keep the British navy at home.” - -I did not know at the time that this was the inspiration of an admiral -and of a genius. The subject waned. And as familiar scenes jogged his -memory, he launched into Scotch and reminiscence. Every barn he knew, -and cairn and croft and steeple recalled stories of his boyhood. - -We had long been in sight of Criffel, towering ahead of us, whose summit -had beckoned for cycles to Helvellyn and Saddleback looming up to the -southward, marking the wonderland of the English lakes. And at length, -after some five hours of stiff walking, we saw the brown Nith below -us going down to meet the Solway, and so came to the entrance of Mr. -Craik's place. The old porter recognized Paul by a mere shake of the -head and the words, “Yere back, are ye?” and a lowering of his bushy -white eyebrows. We took a by-way to avoid the manor-house, which stood -on the rising ground twixt us and the mountain, I walking close to John -Paul's shoulder and feeling for him at every step. Presently, at a turn -of the path, we were brought face to face with an elderly gentleman in -black, and John Paul stopped. - -“Mr. Craik!” he said, removing his hat. - -But the gentleman only whistled to his dogs and went on. - -“My God, even he!” exclaimed the captain, bitterly; “even he, who -thought so highly of my father!” - -A hundred yards more and we came to the little cottage nigh hid among -the trees. John Paul paused a moment, his hand upon the latch of the -gate, his eyes drinking in the familiar picture. The light of day was -dying behind Criffel, and the tiny panes of the cottage windows pulsed -with the rosy flame on the hearth within, now flaring, and again -deepening. He sighed. He walked with unsteady step to the door and -pushed it open. I followed, scarce knowing what I did, halted at the -threshold and drew back, for I had been upon holy ground. - -John Paul was kneeling upon the flags by the ingleside, his face buried -on the open Bible in his mother's lap. Her snowy-white head was bent -upon his, her tears running fast, and her lips moving in silent prayer -to Him who giveth and taketh away. Verily, here in this humble place -dwelt a love that defied the hard usage of a hard world! - -After a space he came to the door and called, and took me by the hand, -and I went in with him. Though his eyes were wet, he bore himself like a -cavalier. - -“Mother, this is Mr. Richard Carvell heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland,--a -young gentleman whom I have had the honour to rescue from a slaver.” - -I bowed low, such was my respect for Dame Paul, and she rose and -curtseyed. She wore a widow's cap and a black gown, and I saw in her -deep-lined face a resemblance to her son. - -“Madam,” I said, the title coming naturally, “I owe Captain Paul a debt -I can never repay.” - -“An' him but a laddie!” she cried. “I'm thankful, John, I'm thankful for -his mither that ye saved him.” - -“I have no mother, Madam Paul,” said I, “and my father was killed in the -French war. But I have a grandfather who loves me dearly as I love him.” - -Some impulse brought her forward, and she took both my hands in her own. - -“Ye'll forgive an auld woman, sir,” she said, with a dignity that -matched her son's, “but ye're sae young, an' ye hae sic a leuk in yere -bonny gray e'e that I ken yell aye be a true friend o' John's. He's been -a guid sin to me, an' ye maunna reek what they say o' him.” - -When now I think of the triumph John Paul has achieved, of the scoffing -world he has brought to his feet, I cannot but recall that sorrowful -evening in the gardener's cottage, when a son was restored but to -be torn away. The sisters came in from their day's work,--both -well-favoured lasses, with John's eyes and hair,--and cooked the simple -meal of broth and porridge, and the fowl they had kept so long against -the captain's home-coming. He carved with many a light word that cost -him dear. Did Janet reca' the simmer nights they had supped here, wi' -the bumclocks bizzin' ower the candles? And was Nancy, the cow, still -i' the byre? And did the bees still give the same bonnie hiney, and were -the red apples still in the far orchard? Ay, Meg had thocht o' him that -autumn, and ran to fetch them with her apron to her face, to come back -smiling through her tears. So it went; and often a lump would rise in -my throat that I could not eat, famished as I was, and the mother and -sisters scarce touched a morsel of the feast. - -The one never failing test of a son, my dears, lies in his treatment of -his mother, and from that hour forth I had not a doubt of John Paul. He -was a man who had seen the world and become, in more than one meaning of -the word, a gentleman. Whatever foibles he may have had, he brought no -conscious airs and graces to this lowly place, but was again the humble -gardener's boy. - -But time pressed, as it ever does. The hour came for us to leave, John -Paul firmly refusing to remain the night in a house that belonged to Mr. -Craik. Of the tenderness, nay, of the pity and cruelty of that parting, -I have no power to write. We knelt with bowed heads while the mother -prayed for the son, expatriated, whom she never hoped to see again on -this earth. She gave us bannocks of her own baking, and her last words -were to implore me always to be a friend to John Paul. - -Then we went out into the night and walked all the way to Dumfries in -silence. - -We lay that night at the sign of the “Twa Naigs,” where Bonnie Prince -Charlie had rested in the Mars year(1715). Before I went to bed I called -for pen and paper, and by the light of a tallow dip sat down to compose -a letter to my grandfather, telling him that I was alive and well, and -recounting as much of my adventures as I could. I said that I was going -to London, where I would see Mr. Dix, and would take passage thence for -America. I prayed that he had been able to bear up against the ordeal of -my disappearance. I dwelt upon the obligations I was under to John -Paul, relating the misfortunes of that worthy seaman (which he so little -deserved!). And said that it was my purpose to bring him to Maryland -with me, where I knew Mr. Carvel would reward him with one of his ships, -explaining that he would accept no money. But when it came to accusing -Grafton and the rector, I thought twice, and bit the end of the feather. -The chances were so great that my grandfather would be in bed and under -the guardianship of my uncle that I forbore, and resolved instead to -write it to Captain Daniel at my first opportunity. - -I arose early to discover a morning gray and drear, with a mist falling -to chill the bones. News travels apace the world over, and that of John -Paul's home-coming and of his public renunciation of Scotland at the -“Hurcheon” had reached Dumfries in good time, substantiated by the -arrival of the teamster with the chests the night before. I descended -into the courtyard in time to catch the captain in his watchet-blue -frock haggling with the landlord for a chaise, the two of them -surrounded by a muttering crowd anxious for a glimpse of Mr. Craik's -gardener's son, for he had become a nine-day sensation to the country -round about. But John Paul minded them not so much as a swarm of flies, -and the teamster's account of the happenings at Kirkcudbright had given -them so wholesome a fear of his speech and presence as to cause them to -misdoubt their own wit, which is saying a deal of Scotchmen. But when -the bargain had been struck and John Paul gone with the 'ostler to see -to his chests, mine host thought it a pity not to have a fall out of me. - -“So ye be the Buckskin laud,” he said, with a wink at a leering group of -farmers; “ye hae braw gentles in America.” - -He was a man of sixty or thereabout, with a shrewd but not unkindly face -that had something familiar in it. - -“You have discernment indeed to recognize a gentleman in Scotch -clothes,” I replied, turning the laugh on him. - -“Dinna raise ae Buckskin, Mr. Rawlinson,” said a man in corduroy. - -“Rawlinson!” I exclaimed at random, “there is one of your name in the -colonies who knows his station better.” - -“Trowkt!” cried mine host, “ye ken Ivie o' Maryland, Ivie my brither?” - -“He is my grandfather's miller at Carvel Hall,” I said. - -“Syne ye maun be nane ither than Mr. Richard Carvel. Yere servan', Mr. -Carvel,” and he made me a low bow, to the great dropping of jaws round -about, and led me into the inn. With trembling hands he took a packet -from his cabinet and showed me the letters, twenty-three in all, which -Ivie had written home since he had gone out as the King's passenger in -'45. The sight of them brought tears to my eyes and carried me out -of the Scotch mist back to dear old Maryland. I had no trouble in -convincing mine host that I was the lad eulogized in the scrawls, and -he put hand on the very sheet which announced my birth, nineteen years -since,--the fourth generation of Carvels Ivie had known. - -So it came that the captain and I got the best chaise and pair in place -of the worst, and sat down to a breakfast such as was prepared only for -my Lord Selkirk when he passed that way, while I told the landlord of -his brother; and as I talked I remembered the day I had caught the arm -of the mill and gone the round, to find that Ivie had written of that, -too! - -After that our landlord would not hear of a reckoning. I might stay a -month, a year, at the “Twa Naigs” if I wished. As for John Paul, who -seemed my friend, he would say nothing, only to advise me privately that -the man was queer company, shaking his head when I defended him. He came -to me with ten guineas, which he pressed me to take for Ivies sake, and -repay when occasion offered. I thanked him, but was of no mind to accept -money from one who thought ill of my benefactor. - -The refusal of these recalled the chaise, and I took the trouble to -expostulate with the captain on that score, pointing out as delicately -as I might that, as he had brought me to Scotland, I held it within my -right to incur the expense of the trip to London, and that I intended -to reimburse him when I saw Mr. Dix. For I knew that his wallet was not -over full, since he had left the half of his savings with his mother. -Much to my secret delight, he agreed to this as within the compass of a -gentleman's acceptance. Had he not, I had the full intention of leaving -him to post it alone, and of offering myself to the master of the first -schooner. - -Despite the rain, and the painful scenes gone through but yesterday, and -the sour-looking ring of men and women gathered to see the start, I -was in high spirits as we went spinning down the Carlisle road, with my -heart leaping to the crack of the postilion's whip. - -I was going to London and to Dorothy! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. ON THE ROAD - -Many were the ludicrous incidents we encountered on our journey to -London. As long as I live, I shall never forget John Paul's alighting -upon the bridge of the Sark to rid himself of a mighty farewell address -to Scotland he had been composing upon the road. And this he delivered -with such appalling voice and gesture as to frighten to a standstill a -chaise on the English side of the stream, containing a young gentleman -in a scarlet coat and a laced hat, and a young lady who sobbed as we -passed them. They were, no doubt, running to Gretna Green to be married. - -Captain Paul, as I have said, was a man of moods, and strangely affected -by ridicule. And this we had in plenty upon the road. Landlords, grooms, -and'ostlers, and even our own post-boys, laughed and jested coarsely -at his sky-blue frock, and their sallies angered him beyond all reason, -while they afforded me so great an amusement that more than once I was -on the edge of a serious falling-out with him as a consequence of my -merriment. Usually, when we alighted from our vehicle, the expression -of mine host would sour, and his sir would shift to a master; while his -servants would go trooping in again, with many a coarse fling that they -would get no vails from such as we. And once we were invited into the -kitchen. He would be soar for half a day at a spell after a piece of -insolence out of the common, and then deliver me a solemn lecture upon -the advantages of birth in a manor. Then his natural buoyancy would -lift him again, and he would be in childish ecstasies at the prospect of -getting to London, and seeing the great world; and I began to think that -he secretly cherished the hope of meeting some of its votaries. For -I had told him, casually as possible, that I had friends in Arlington -Street, where I remembered the Manners were established. - -“Arlington Street!” he repeated, rolling the words over his tongue; “it -has a fine sound, laddie, a fine sound. That street must be the very -acme of fashion.” - -I laughed, and replied that I did not know. And at the ordinary of the -next inn we came to, he took occasion to mention to me, in a louder -voice than was necessary, that I would do well to call in Arlington -Street as we went into town. So far as I could see, the remark did not -compel any increase of respect from our fellow-diners. - -Upon more than one point I was worried. Often and often I reflected that -some hitch might occur to prevent my getting money promptly from Mr. -Dix. Days would perchance elapse before I could find the man in such -a great city as London; he might be out of town at this season, Easter -being less than a se'nnight away. For I had heard my grandfather say -that the elder Mr. Dix had a house in some merchant's suburb, and loved -to play at being a squire before he died. Again (my heart stood at -the thought), the Manners might be gone back to America. I cursed the -stubborn pride which had led the captain to hire a post-chaise, when -the wagon had served us so much better, and besides relieved him of -the fusillade of ridicule he got travelling as a gentleman. But such -reflections always ended in my upbraiding myself for blaming him whose -generosity had rescued me from perhaps a life-long misery. - -But, on the whole, we rolled southward happily, between high walls and -hedges, past trim gardens and fields and meadows, and I marvelled at -the regular, park-like look of the country, as though stamped from one -design continually recurring, like our butter at Carvel Hall. The roads -were sometimes good, and sometimes as execrable as a colonial byway in -winter, with mud up to the axles. And yet, my heart went out to this -country, the home of my ancestors. Spring was at hand; the ploughboys -whistled between the furrows, the larks circled overhead, and the lilacs -were cautiously pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with the -perfume of living things. - -The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scanty -indeed, and more than once we were told to go farther down the street, -that the inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind was -troubled about John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to the -best hotels in the larger towns, declaring that there we should meet the -people of fashion. Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered that -such people never came to the ordinary, but were served in their own -rooms by their own servants. - -“I shall know them yet,” he would vow, as we started off of a morning, -after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. “Am -I not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a difficulty -many before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the history, and -the poets. And the French language, though I have never made the grand -tour. I flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By the help of your -friends, I shall have a title or two for acquaintances before I leave -London; and when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I know of who -will give me employment, if I have not obtained preferment.” - -The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And I -had not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was, -I knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier for -a camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross the -thresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers is -hard, and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name. - -“We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul,” I said, “and waste no -time upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James's -and the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchance -his Majesty himself,” I added, attempting merriment, for the notion -of seeing Dolly only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knew -nothing of Dolly. - -“So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you,” he said reproachfully. -“Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can make -friends without going to Arlington Street.” - -I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech. - -“And a time will come when they shall know me,” he went on. “If they -insult me now they shall pay dearly for it.” - -“My dear captain,” I cried; “nobody will insult you, and least of all my -friends, the Manners.” I had my misgivings about little Mr. Marmaduke. -“But we are, neither of us, equipped for a London season. I am but an -unknown provincial, and you--” I paused for words. - -For a sudden realization had come upon me that our positions were now -reversed. It seemed strange that I should be interpreting the world to -this man of power. - -“And I?” he repeated bitterly. - -“You have first to become an admiral,” I replied, with inspiration; -“Drake was once a common seaman.” - -He did not answer. But that evening as we came into Windsor, I perceived -that he had not abandoned his intentions. The long light flashed on -the peaceful Thames, and the great, grim castle was gilded all over its -western side. - -The captain leaned out of the window. - -“Postilion,” he called, “which inn here is most favoured by gentlemen?” - -“The Castle,” said the boy, turning in his saddle to grin at me. “But if -I might be so bold as to advise your honour, the 'Swan' is a comfortable -house, and well attended.” - -“Know your place, sirrah,” shouted the captain, angrily, “and drive us -to the 'Castle.'” - -The boy snapped his whip disdainfully, and presently pulled us up at the -inn, our chaise covered with the mud of three particular showers we had -run through that day. And, as usual, the landlord, thinking he was about -to receive quality, came scraping to the chaise door, only to turn with -a gesture of disgust when he perceived John Paul's sea-boxes tied on -behind, and the costume of that hero, as well as my own. - -The captain demanded a room. But mine host had turned his back, when -suddenly a thought must have struck him, for he wheeled again. - -“Stay,” he cried, glancing suspiciously at the sky-blue frock; “if you -are Mr. Dyson's courier, I have reserved a suite.” - -This same John Paul, who was like iron with mob and mutiny, was pitiably -helpless before such a prop of the aristocracy. He flew into a rage, -and rated the landlord in Scotch and English, and I was fain to put my -tongue in my cheek and turn my back that my laughter might not anger him -the more. - -And so I came face to face with another smile, behind a spying-glass,--a -smile so cynical and unpleasant withal that my own was smothered. A -tall and thin gentleman, who had come out of the inn without a hat, was -surveying the dispute with a keen delight. He was past the middle age. -His clothes bore that mark which distinguishes his world from the other, -but his features were so striking as to hold my attention unwittingly. - -After a while he withdrew his glass, cast one look at me which might -have meant anything, and spoke up. - -“Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting a -gentleman to your house?” - -I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, or -I. Goble bowed at the speaker. - -“A gentleman, your honour!” he gasped. “Your honour is joking again. -Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor the -longshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan.'” - -“Jews' finery!” shouted the captain, with his fingers on his sword. - -But the stranger held up a hand deprecatingly. - -“'Pon my oath, Goble, I gave you credit for more penetration,” he -drawled; “you may be right about the Scotchman, but your longshore lout -has had both birth and breeding, or I know nothing.” - -John Paul, who was in the act of bowing to the speaker, remained -petrified with his hand upon his heart, entirely discomfited. The -landlord forsook him instantly for me, then stole a glance at his guest -to test his seriousness, and looked at my face to see how greatly it -were at variance with my clothes. The temptation to lay hands on the -cringing little toadeater grew too strong for me, and I picked him up -by the scruff of the collar,--he was all skin and bones,--and spun him -round like a corpse upon a gibbet, while he cried mercy in a voice to -wake the dead. The slim gentleman under the sign laughed until he held -his sides, with a heartiness that jarred upon me. It did not seem to fit -him. - -“By Hercules and Vulcan,” he cried, when at last I had set the landlord -down, “what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in the -house, Goble, and sup with me.” - -Goble pulled himself together. - -“And he is your honour's friend,” he began, with a scowl. - -“Ay, he is my friend, I tell you,” retorted the important personage, -impatiently. - -The innkeeper, sulky, half-satisfied, yet fearing to offend, welcomed us -with what grace he could muster, and we were shown to “The Fox and the -Grapes,” a large room in the rear of the house. - -John Paul had not spoken since the slim gentleman had drawn the -distinction between us, and I knew that the affront was rankling in his -breast. He cast himself into a chair with such an air of dejection as -made me pity him from my heart. But I had no consolation to offer. His -first words, far from being the torrent of protest I looked for, almost -startled me into laughter. - -“He can be nothing less than a duke,” said the captain. “Ah, Richard, -see what it is to be a gentleman!” - -“Fiddlesticks! I had rather own your powers than the best title in -England,” I retorted sharply. - -He shook his head sorrowfully, which made me wonder the more that a man -of his ability should be unhappy without this one bauble attainment. - -“I shall begin to believe the philosophers have the right of it,” he -remarked presently. “Have you ever read anything of Monsieur Rousseau's, -Richard?” - -The words were scarce out of his mouth when we heard a loud rap on the -door, which I opened to discover a Swiss fellow in a private livery, -come to say that his master begged the young gentleman would sup with -him. The man stood immovable while he delivered this message, and put an -impudent emphasis upon the gentleman. - -“Say to your master, whoever he may be,” I replied, in some heat at -the man's sneer, “that I am travelling with Captain Paul. That any -invitation to me must include him.” - -The lackey stood astounded at my answer, as though he had not heard -aright. Then he retired with less assurance than he had come, and John -Paul sprang to his feet and laid his hands upon my shoulders, as was his -wont when affected. He reproached himself for having misjudged me, and -added a deal more that I have forgotten. - -“And to think,” he cried, “that you have forgone supping with a nobleman -on my account!” - -“Pish, captain, 'tis no great denial. His Lordship--if Lordship he -is--is stranded in an inn, overcome with ennui, and must be amused. That -is all.” - -Nevertheless I think the good captain was distinctly disappointed, not -alone because I gave up what in his opinion was a great advantage, but -likewise because I could have regaled him on my return with an account -of the meal. For it must be borne in mind, my dears, that those days -are not these, nor that country this one. And in judging Captain Paul -it must be remembered that rank inspired a vast respect when King George -came to the throne. It can never be said of John Paul that he lacked -either independence or spirit. But a nobleman was a nobleman then. - -So when presently the gentleman himself appeared smiling at our door, -which his servant had left open, we both of us rose up in astonishment -and bowed very respectfully, and my face burned at the thought of the -message I had sent him. For, after all, the captain was but twenty-one -and I nineteen, and the distinguished unknown at least fifty. He took a -pinch of snuff and brushed his waistcoat before he spoke. - -“Egad,” said he, with good nature, looking up at me, “Mohammed was a -philosopher, and so am I, and come to the mountain. 'Tis worth crossing -an inn in these times to see a young man whose strength has not been -wasted upon foppery. May I ask your name, sir?” - -“Richard Carvel,” I answered, much put aback. - -“Ah, Carvel,” he repeated; “I know three or four of that name. Perhaps -you are Robert Carvel's son, of Yorkshire. But what the devil do you do -in such clothes? I was resolved to have you though I am forced to take a -dozen watchet-blue mountebanks in the bargain.” - -“Sir, I warn you not to insult my friend,” I cried, in a temper again. - -“There, there, not so loud, I beg you,” said he, with a gesture. “Hot as -pounded pepper,--but all things are the better for a touch of it. I had -no intention of insulting the worthy man, I give my word. I must have my -joke, sir. No harm meant.” And he nodded at John Paul, who looked as if -he would sink through the floor. “Robert Carvel is as testy as the devil -with the gout, and you are not unlike him in feature.” - -“He is no relation of mine,” I replied, undecided whether to laugh or -be angry. And then I added, for I was very young, “I am an American, and -heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland.” - -“Lord, lord, I might have known,” exclaimed he. “Once I had the honour -of dining with your Dr. Franklin, from Pennsylvania. He dresses for all -the world like you, only worse, and wears a hat I would not be caught -under at Bagnigge Wells, were I so imprudent as to go there.” - -“Dr. Franklin has weightier matters than hats to occupy him, sir,” I -retorted. For I was determined to hold my own. - -He made a French gesture, a shrug of his thin shoulders, which caused me -to suspect he was not always so good-natured. - -“Dr. Franklin would better have stuck to his newspaper, my young -friend,” said he. “But I like your appearance too well to quarrel with -you, and we'll have no politics before eating. Come, gentlemen, come! -Let us see what Goble has left after his shaking.” - -He struck off with something of a painful gait, which he explained was -from the gout. And presently we arrived at his parlour, where supper was -set out for us. I had not tasted its equal since I left Maryland. We sat -down to a capon stuffed with eggs, and dainty sausages, and hot rolls, -such as we had at home; and a wine which had cobwebbed and mellowed -under the Castle Inn for better than twenty years. The personage did not -drink wine. He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble because he had not -been given iced water. While he was tapping on the table I took occasion -to observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike the stranger, not by -reason of its nobility, but because of its oddity. He had a prodigious -length of face, the nose long in proportion, but not prominent. The eyes -were dark, very bright, and wide apart, with little eyebrows dabbed over -them at a slanting angle. The thin-lipped mouth rather pursed up, which -made his smile the contradiction it was. In short, my dears, while I -do not lay claim to the reading of character, it required no great -astuteness to perceive the scholar, the man of the world, and the -ascetic--and all affected. His conversation bore out the summary. It -astonished us. It encircled the earth, embraced history and letters -since the world began. And added to all this, he had a thousand -anecdotes on his tongue's tip. His words he chose with too great a -nicety; his sentences were of a foreign formation, twisted around; and -his stories were illustrated with French gesticulations. He threw in -quotations galore, in Latin, and French, and English, until the captain -began casting me odd, uncomfortable looks, as though he wished himself -well out of the entertainment. Indeed, poor John Paul's perturbation -amused me more than the gentleman's anecdotes. To be ill at ease is -discouraging to any one, but it was peculiarly fatal with the captain. -This arch-aristocrat dazzled him. When he attempted to follow in the -same vein he would get lost. And his really considerable learning -counted for nothing. He reached the height of his mortification when -the slim gentleman dropped his eyelids and began to yawn. I was wickedly -delighted. He could not have been better met. Another such encounter, -and I would warrant the captain's illusions concerning the gentry to go -up in smoke. Then he might come to some notion of his own true powers. -As for me, I enjoyed the supper which our host had insisted upon our -partaking, drank his wine, and paid him very little attention. - -“May I make so bold as to ask, sir, whether you are a patron of -literature?” said the captain, at length. - -“A very poor patron, my dear man,” was the answer. “Merely a humble -worshipper at the shrine. And I might say that I partake of its benefits -as much as a gentleman may. And yet,” he added, with a laugh and a -cough, “those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me a -literary man.” - -“And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is coming -on,” said he, “perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr. -Carvel, and of your friend, Captain Paul. And how you come to be so far -from home.” And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man who -has bought his right to an opera box. - -Here was my chance. And I resolved that if I did not further enlighten -John Paul, it would be no fault of mine. - -“Sir,” I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, “I was -kidnapped by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony, -who had designs upon my grandfather's fortune. I was taken abroad in a -slaver and carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discovered -that the captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates. For one -day all hands got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captain -raised the skull and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest. I -was forced to climb the main rigging in order to escape being hacked to -pieces.” - -He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half an -inch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity. John Paul -was no less astonished at my little ruse. - -“Holy Saint Clement!” exclaimed our host; “pirates! This begins to -have a flavour indeed. And yet you do not seem to be a lad with an -imagination. Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say, -with Alceste: 'Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.' But -pray go on, sir. You have but to call for pen and ink to rival Mr. -Fielding.” - -With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him a -bow. And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same. - -“I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir,” I said. “Sir, your -humble servant. I wish you a very good evening.” He rose precipitately, -crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm. - -“Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated,” he said, in some agitation. -“Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyes -on you until to-night. Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery? -But I should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit. -Pray be seated, captain.” - -I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored my -point, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism. I -told my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listened -with every mark of attention and interest. Indeed, to my surprise, he -began to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed him -capable. - -“What a find! what a find!” he continued to exclaim, when I had -finished. “And true. You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?” - -“Sir!” I replied, “I thought we had thrashed that out.” - -“Yes, yes, to be sure. I beg pardon,” said he. And then to his servant: -“Colomb, is my writing-tablet unpacked?” - -I was more mystified than ever as to his identity. Was he going to put -the story in a magazine? - -After that he seemed plainly anxious to be rid of us. I bade him good -night, and he grasped my hand warmly enough. Then he turned to the -captain in his most condescending manner. But a great change had come -over John Paul. He was ever quick to see and to learn, and I rejoiced -to remark that he did not bow over the hand, as he might have done two -hours since. He was again Captain Paul, the man, who fought his way on -his own merits. He held himself as tho' he was once more pacing the deck -of the John. - -The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass, -soused it with water, and held it up. - -“Here's to your future, my good captain,” he said, “and to Mr. Carvel's -safe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail to -go to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and let -him remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And put -up at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have friends -in London.” - -I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry. - -“You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel,” - he added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. “A strange yarn -indeed, captain.” - -“And therefore,” said the captain, coolly, “as a stranger give it -welcome. - - “'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'” - -Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been more -taken aback. - -“What! What's this?” he cried. “You quote Hamlet! And who the devil are -you, sir, that you know my name?” - -“Your name, sir!” exclaims the captain, in astonishment. - -“Well, well,” he said, stepping back and eying us closely, “'tis no -matter. Good night, gentlemen, good night.” - -And we went to bed with many a laugh over the incident. - -“His name must be Horatio. We'll discover it in the morning,” said John -Paul. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. LONDON TOWN - -But he had not risen when we set out, nor would the illnatured landlord -reveal his name. It mattered little to me, since I desired to forget him -as quickly as possible. For here was one of my own people of quality, a -gentleman who professed to believe what I told him, and yet would do -no more for me than recommend me an inn and a tailor; while a poor -sea-captain, driven from his employment and his home, with no better -reason to put faith in my story, was sharing with me his last penny. -Goble, in truth, had made us pay dearly for our fun with him, and the -hum of the vast unknown fell upon our ears with the question of lodging -still unsettled. The captain was for going to the Star and Garter, -the inn the gentleman had mentioned. I was in favour of seeking a more -modest and less fashionable hostelry. - -“Remember that you must keep up your condition, Richard,” said John -Paul. - -“And if all English gentlemen are like our late friend,” I said, “I -would rather stay in a city coffee-house. Remember that you have only -two guineas left after paying for the chaise, and that Mr. Dix may be -out of town.” - -“And your friends in Arlington Street?” said he. - -“May be back in Maryland,” said I; and added inwardly, - -“God forbid!” - -“We shall have twice the chance at the Star and Garter. They will want -a show of gold at a humbler place, and at the Star we may carry matters -with a high hand. Pick out the biggest frigate,” he cried, for the tenth -time, at least, “or the most beautiful lady, and it will surprise you, -my lad, to find out how many times you will win.” - -I know of no feeling of awe to equal that of a stranger approaching for -the first time a huge city. The thought of a human multitude is ever -appalling as that of infinity itself, a human multitude with its -infinity of despairs and joys, disgraces and honours, each small unit -with all the world in its own brain, and all the world out of it! Each -intent upon his own business or pleasure, and striving the while by hook -or crook to keep the ground from slipping beneath his feet. For, if he -falls, God help him! - -Yes, here was London, great and pitiless, and the fear of it was upon -our souls as we rode into it that day. - -Holland House with its shaded gardens, Kensington Palace with the broad -green acres of parks in front of it stitched by the silver Serpentine, -and Buckingham House, which lay to the south over the hill,--all were -one to us in wonder as they loomed through the glittering mist that -softened all. We met with a stream of countless wagons that spoke of -a trade beyond knowledge, sprinkled with the equipages of the gentry -floating upon it; coach and chaise, cabriolet and chariot, gorgeously -bedecked with heraldry and wreaths; their numbers astonished me, for -to my mind the best of them were no better than we could boast in -Annapolis. One matter, which brings a laugh as I recall it, was the -oddity to me of seeing white coachmen and footmen. - -We clattered down St. James's Street, of which I had often heard my -grandfather speak, and at length we drew up before the Star and Garter -in Pall Mall, over against the palace. The servants came hurrying out, -headed by a chamberlain clad in magnificent livery, a functionary we had -not before encountered. John Paul alighted to face this personage, who, -the moment he perceived us, shifted his welcoming look to one of such -withering scorn as would have daunted a more timid man than the captain. -Without the formality of a sir he demanded our business, which started -the inn people and our own boy to snickering, and made the passers-by -pause and stare. Dandies who were taking the air stopped to ogle us with -their spying-glasses and to offer quips, and behind them gathered -the flunkies and chairmen awaiting their masters at the clubs and -coffee-houses near by. What was my astonishment, therefore, to see a -change in the captain's demeanour. Truly for quick learning and the -application of it I have never known his equal. His air became the one -of careless ease habitual to the little gentleman we had met at Windsor, -and he drew from his pocket one of his guineas, which he tossed in the -man's palm. - -“Here, my man,” said he, snapping his fingers; “an apartment at once, or -you shall pay for this nonsense, I promise you.” And walked in with his -chin in the air, so grandly as to dissolve ridicule into speculation. - -For an instant the chamberlain wavered, and I trembled, for I dreaded a -disgrace in Pall Mall, where the Manners might hear of it. Then fear, or -hope of gain, or something else got the better of him, for he led us -to a snug, well-furnished suite of a parlour and bedroom on the -first floor, and stood bowing in the doorway for his honour's further -commands. They were of a sort to bring the sweat to my forehead. - -“Have a fellow run to bid Davenport, the tailor, come hither as fast -as his legs will carry him. And you may make it known that this young -gentleman desires a servant, a good man, mind you, with references, who -knows a gentleman's wants. He will be well paid.” - -That name of Davenport was a charm,--the mention of a servant was -its finishing touch. The chamberlain bent almost double, and retired, -closing the door softly behind him. And so great had been my surprise -over these last acquirements of the captain that until now I had had no -breath to expostulate. - -“I must have my fling, Richard,” he answered, laughing; “I shall not be -a gentleman long. I must know how it feels to take your ease, and stroke -your velvet, and order lackeys about. And when my money is gone I shall -be content to go to sea again, and think about it o' stormy nights.” - -This feeling was so far beyond my intelligence that I made no comment. -And I could not for the life of me chide him, but prayed that all would -come right in the end. - -In less than an hour Davenport himself arrived, bristling with -importance, followed by his man carrying such a variety of silks and -satins, flowered and plain, and broadcloths and velvets, to fill the -furniture. And close behind the tailor came a tall haberdasher from -Bond Street, who had got wind of a customer, with a bewildering lot of -ruffles and handkerchiefs and neckerchiefs, and bows of lawn and lace -which (so he informed us) gentlemen now wore in the place of solitaires. -Then came a hosier and a bootmaker and a hatter; nay, I was forgetting -a jeweller from Temple Bar. And so imposing a front did the captain wear -as he picked this and recommended the other that he got credit for -me for all he chose, and might have had more besides. For himself he -ordered merely a modest street suit of purple, the sword to be thrust -through the pocket, Davenport promising it with mine for the next -afternoon. For so much discredit had been cast upon his taste on the -road to London that he was resolved to remain indoors until he could -appear with decency. He learned quickly, as I have said. - -By the time we had done with these matters, which I wished to perdition, -some score of applicants was in waiting for me. And out of them I -hired one who had been valet to the young Lord Rereby, and whose -recommendation was excellent. His name was Banks, his face open and -ingenuous, his stature a little above the ordinary, and his manner -respectful. I had Davenport measure him at once for a suit of the Carvel -livery, and bade him report on the morrow. - -All this while, my dears, I was aching to be off to Arlington Street, -but a foolish pride held me back. I had heard so much of the fashion -in which the Manners moved that I feared to bring ridicule upon them in -poor MacMuir's clothes. But presently the desire to see Dolly took -such hold upon me that I set out before dinner, fought my way past the -chairmen and chaisemen at the door, and asked my way of the first civil -person I encountered. 'Twas only a little rise up the steps of St. -James's Street, Arlington Street being but a small pocket of Piccadilly, -but it seemed a dull English mile; and my heart thumped when I reached -the corner, and the houses danced before my eyes. I steadied myself by a -post and looked again. At last, after a thousand leagues of wandering, -I was near her! But how to choose between fifty severe and imposing -mansions? I walked on toward that endless race of affairs and fashion, -Piccadilly, scanning every door, nay, every window, in the hope that I -might behold my lady's face framed therein. Here a chair was set down, -there a chariot or a coach pulled up, and a clocked flunky bowing a -lady in. But no Dorothy. Finally, when I had near made the round of -each side, I summoned courage and asked a butcher's lad, whistling as he -passed me, whether he could point out the residence of Mr. Manners. - -“Ay,” he replied, looking me over out of the corner of his eye, “that I -can. But y'ell not get a glimpse o' the beauty this day, for she's but -just off to Kensington with a coachful o' quality.” - -And he led me, all in a tremble over his answer, to a large stone -dwelling with arched windows, and pillared portico with lanthorns -and link extinguishers, an area and railing beside it. The flavour of -generations of aristocracy hung about the place, and the big knocker on -the carved door seemed to regard with such a forbidding frown my shabby -clothes that I took but the one glance (enough to fix it forever in my -memory), and hurried on. Alas, what hope had I of Dorothy now! - -“What cheer, Richard?” cried the captain when I returned; “have you seen -your friends?” - -I told him that I had feared to disgrace them, and so refrained from -knocking--a decision which he commended as the very essence of wisdom. -Though a desire to meet and talk with quality pushed him hard, he would -not go a step to the ordinary, and gave orders to be served in our room, -thus fostering the mystery which had enveloped us since our arrival. -Dinner at the Star and Garter being at the fashionable hour of half -after four, I was forced to give over for that day the task of finding -Mr. Dix. - -That evening--shall I confess it?--I spent between the Green Park and -Arlington Street, hoping for a glimpse of Miss Dolly returning from -Kensington. - -The next morning I proclaimed my intention of going to Mr. Dix. - -“Send for him,” said the captain. “Gentlemen never seek their men of -affairs.” - -“No,” I cried; “I can contain myself in this place no longer. I must be -moving.” - -“As you will, Richard,” he replied, and giving me a queer, puzzled look -he settled himself between the Morning Post and the Chronicle. - -As I passed the servants in the lower hall, I could not but remark an -altered treatment. My friend the chamberlain, more pompous than ever, -stood erect in the door with a stony stare, which melted the moment he -perceived a young gentleman who descended behind me. I heard him cry out -“A chaise for his Lordship!” at which command two of his assistants -ran out together. Suspicion had plainly gripped his soul overnight, and -this, added to mortified vanity at having been duped, was sufficient for -him to allow me to leave the inn unattended. Nor could I greatly blame -him, for you must know, my dears, that at that time London was filled -with adventurers of all types. - -I felt a deal like an impostor, in truth, as I stepped into the street, -disdaining to inquire of any of the people of the Star and Garter where -an American agent might be found. The day was gray and cheerless, the -colour of my own spirits as I walked toward the east, knowing that the -city lay that way. But I soon found plenty to distract me. - -To a lad such as I, bred in a quiet tho' prosperous colonial town, a -walk through London was a revelation. Here in the Pall Mall the day was -not yet begun, tho' for some scarce ended. I had not gone fifty paces -from the hotel before I came upon a stout gentleman with twelve hours -of claret inside him, brought out of a coffee-house and put with vast -difficulty into his chair; and I stopped to watch the men stagger off -with their load to St. James's Street. Next I met a squad of redcoated -guards going to the palace, and after them a grand coach and six rattled -over the Scotch granite, swaying to a degree that threatened to shake -off the footmen clinging behind. Within, a man with an eagle nose sat -impassive, and I set him down for one of the king's ministers. - -Presently I came out into a wide space, which I knew to be Charing Cross -by the statue of Charles the First which stood in the centre of it, and -the throat of a street which was just in front of me must be the Strand. -Here all was life and bustle. On one hand was Golden's Hotel, and a -crowded mail-coach was dashing out from the arch beneath it, the horn -blowing merrily; on the other hand, so I was told by a friendly man in -brown, was Northumberland House, the gloomy grandeur whereof held my -eyes for a time. And I made bold to ask in what district were those who -had dealings with the colonies. He scanned me with a puzzling look of -commiseration. - -“Ye're not a-going to sell yereself for seven year, my lad?” said he. “I -was near that myself when I was young, and I thank God' to this day that -I talked first to an honest man, even as you are doing. They'll give -ye a pretty tale,--the factors,--of a land of milk and honey, when it's -naught but stripes and curses yell get.” - -And he was about to rebuke me hotly, when I told him I had come from -Maryland, where I was born. - -“Why, ye speak like a gentleman!” he exclaimed. “I was informed that all -talk like naygurs over there. And is it not so of your redemptioners?” - -I said that depended upon the master they got. - -“Then I take it ye are looking for the lawyers, who mostly represent the -planters. And y e'll find them at the Temple or Lincoln's Inn.” - -I replied that he I sought was not an attorney, but a man of business. -Whereupon he said that I should find all those in a batch about the -North and South American Coffee House, in Threadneedle Street. And he -pointed me into the Strand, adding that I had but to follow my nose to -St. Paul's, and there inquire. - -I would I might give you some notion of the great artery of London in -those days, for it has changed much since I went down it that heavy -morning in April, 1770, fighting my way. Ay, truly, fighting my way, for -the street then was no place for the weak and timid, when bullocks ran -through it in droves on the way to market, when it was often jammed from -wall to wall with wagons, and carmen and truckmen and coachmen swung -their whips and cursed one another to the extent of their lungs. Near -St. Clement Danes I was packed in a crowd for ten minutes while two of -these fellows formed a ring and fought for the right of way, stopping -the traffic as far as I could see. Dustmen, and sweeps, and even -beggars, jostled you on the corners, bullies tried to push you against -the posts or into the kennels; and once, in Butchers' Row, I was stopped -by a flashy, soft-tongued fellow who would have lured me into a tavern -near by. - -The noises were bedlam ten times over. Shopmen stood at their doors and -cried, “Rally up, rally up, buy, buy, buy!” venders shouted saloop -and barley, furmity, Shrewsbury cakes and hot peascods, rosemary -and lavender, small coal and sealing-wax, and others bawled “Pots to -solder!” and “Knives to grind!” Then there was the incessant roar of -the heavy wheels over the rough stones, and the rasp and shriek of the -brewers' sledges as they moved clumsily along. As for the odours, from -that of the roasted coffee and food of the taverns, to the stale fish on -the stalls, and worse, I can say nothing. They surpassed imagination. - -At length, upon emerging from Butchers' Row, I came upon some stocks -standing in the street, and beheld ahead of me a great gateway -stretching across the Strand from house to house. - -Its stone was stained with age, and the stern front of it seemed to mock -the unseemly and impetuous haste of the tide rushing through its arches. -I stood and gazed, nor needed one to tell me that those two grinning -skulls above it, swinging to the wind on the pikes, were rebel heads. -Bare and bleached now, and exposed to a cruel view, but once caressed -by loving hands, was the last of those whose devotion to the house of -Stuart had brought from their homes to Temple Bar. - -I halted by the Fleet Market, nor could I resist the desire to go into -St. Paul's, to feel like a pebble in a bell under its mighty dome; and -it lacked but half an hour of noon when I had come out at the Poultry -and finished gaping at the Mansion House. I missed Threadneedle Street -and went down Cornhill, in my ignorance mistaking the Royal Exchange, -with its long piazza and high tower, for the coffeehouse I sought: in -the great hall I begged a gentleman to direct me to Mr. Dix, if he knew -such a person. He shrugged his shoulders, which mystified me somewhat, -but answered with a ready good-nature that he was likely to be found at -that time at Tom's Coffee House, in Birchin Lane near by, whither I went -with him. He climbed the stairs ahead of me and directed me, puffing, to -the news room, which I found filled with men, some writing, some talking -eagerly, and others turning over newspapers. The servant there looked me -over with no great favour, but on telling him my business he went off, -and returned with a young man of a pink and white complexion, in a green -riding-frock, leather breeches, and top boots, who said: - -“Well, my man, I am Mr. Dix.” - -There was a look about him, added to his tone and manner, set me strong -against him. I knew his father had not been of this stamp. - -“And I am Mr. Richard Carvel, grandson to Mr. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel -Hall, in Maryland,” I replied, much in the same way. - -He thrust his hands into his breeches and stared very hard. - -“You?” he said finally, with something very near a laugh. - -“Sir, a gentleman's word usually suffices!” I cried. - -He changed his tone a little. - -“Your pardon, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “but we men of business have need -to be careful. Let us sit, and I will examine your letters. Your -determination must have been suddenly taken,” he added, “for I have -nothing from Mr. Carvel on the subject of your coming.” - -“Letters! You have heard nothing!” I gasped, and there stopped short -and clinched the table. “Has not my grandfather written of my -disappearance?” - -Immediately his expression went back to the one he had met me with. -“Pardon me,” he said again. - -I composed myself as best I could in the face of his incredulity, -swallowing with an effort the aversion I felt to giving him my story. - -“I think it strange he has not informed you,” I said; “I was kidnapped -near Annapolis last Christmas-time, and put on board of a slaver, from -which I was rescued by great good fortune, and brought to Scotland. And -I have but just made my way to London.” - -“The thing is not likely, Mr.--, Mr.--,” he said, drumming impatiently -on the board. - -Then I lost control of myself. - -“As sure as I am heir to Carvel Hall, Mr. Dix,” I cried, rising, “you -shall pay for your insolence by forfeiting your agency!” - -Now the roan was a natural coward, with a sneer for some and a smirk for -others. He went to the smirk. - -“I am but looking to Mr. Carvel's interests the best I know how,” he -replied; “and if indeed you be Mr. Richard Carvel, then you must applaud -my caution, sir, in seeking proofs.” - -“Proofs I have none,” I cried; “the very clothes on my back are borrowed -from a Scotch seaman. My God, Mr. Dix, do I look like a rogue?” - -“Were I to advance money upon appearances, sir, I should be insolvent -in a fortnight. But stay,” he cried uneasily, as I flung back my chair, -“stay, sir. Is there no one of your province in the town to attest your -identity?” - -“Ay, that there is,” I said bitterly; “you shall hear from Mr. Manners -soon, I promise you.” - -“Pray, Mr. Carvel,” he said, overtaking me on the stairs, “you will -surely allow the situation to be--extraordinary, you will surely commend -my discretion. Permit me, sir, to go with you to Arlington Street.” And -he sent a lad in haste to the Exchange for a hackney-chaise, which was -soon brought around. - -I got in, somewhat mollified, and ashamed of my heat: still disliking -the man, but acknowledging he had the better right on his side. True -to his kind he gave me every mark of politeness now, asked particularly -after Mr. Carvel's health, and encouraged me to give him as much of my -adventure as I thought proper. But what with the rattle of the carriage -and the street noises and my disgust, I did not care to talk, and -presently told him as much very curtly. He persisted, how: ever, in -pointing out the sights, the Fleet prison, and where the Ludgate stood -six years gone; and the Devil's Tavern, of old Ben Jonson's time, and -the Mitre and the Cheshire Cheese and the Cock, where Dr. Johnson might -be found near the end of the week at his dinner. He showed me the King's -Mews above Charing Cross, and the famous theatre in the Haymarket, and -we had but turned the corner into Piccadilly when he cried excitedly at -a passing chariot: - -“There, Mr. Carvel, there go my Lord North and Mr. Rigby!” - -“The devil take them, Mr. Dix!” I exclaimed. - -He was silent after that, glancing at me covertly from while to while -until we swung into Arlington Street. Before I knew we were stopped -in front of the house, but as I set foot on the step I found myself -confronted by a footman in the Manners livery, who cried out angrily to -our man: “Make way, make way for his Grace of Chartersea!” Turning, I -saw a coach behind, the horses dancing at the rear wheels of the chaise. -We alighted hastily, and I stood motionless, my heart jumping quick and -hard in the hope and fear that Dorothy was within, my eye fixed on the -coach door. But when the footman pulled it open and lowered the step, -out lolled a very broad man with a bloated face and little, beady eyes -without a spark of meaning, and something very like a hump was on the -top of his back. He wore a yellow top-coat, and red-heeled shoes of the -latest fashion, and I settled at once he was the Duke of Chartersea. - -Next came little Mr. Manners, stepping daintily as ever; and then, -as the door closed with a bang, I remembered my errand. They had got -halfway to the portico. - -“Mr. Manners!” I cried. - -He faced about, and his Grace also, and both stared in wellbred -surprise. As I live, Mr. Manners looked into my face, into my very -eyes, and gave no sign of recognition. And what between astonishment and -anger, and a contempt that arose within me, I could not speak. - -“Give the man a shilling, Manners,” said his Grace; “we can't stay here -forever.” - -“Ay, give the man a shilling,” lisped Mr. Manners to the footman. And -they passed into the house, and the door eras shut. - -Then I heard Mr. Dix at my elbow, saying in a soft voice: “Now, my -fine gentleman, is there any good reason why you should not ride to Bow -Street with me?” - -“As there is a God in heaven. Mr. Dix,” I answered, very low, “if you -attempt to lay hands on me, you shall answer for it! And you shall hear -from me yet, at the Star and Garter hotel.” - -I spun on my heel and left him, nor did he follow; and a great lump was -in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. - -What would John Paul say? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. CASTLE YARD - -But I did not go direct to the Star and Garter. No, I lacked the courage -to say to John Paul: “You have trusted me, and this is how I have -rewarded your faith.” And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all -men, had served me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with -a bitterness I had never before conceived. And when my brain became -clearer I reflected that Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my -disappearance from Maryland, and that his action had been one of design, -and of cold blood. But I gave to Dorothy or her mother no part in it. -Mr. Manners never had had cause to hate me, and the only reason I could -assign was connected with his Grace of Chartersea, which I dismissed as -absurd. - -A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was, -nor how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a -huckster told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall -Mall. The usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but -I noticed a couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt -dress, and heard a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the -stairs and fumbled at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and -the door was suddenly and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a -big, rough-looking man with his hands on his hips. - -“Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant,” he cried. - -The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a -wry face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired, -resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the -corner perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man -disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were -thrown on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat -across the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the -rest: “The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. -Martin's Lane!” - -In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the -haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the -confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes -Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and -looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted -with relief at sight of me. - -“Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?” he cried. And turning -to the man confronting me, he added, “This gentleman will settle their -beggarly accounts.” - -Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me. - -“Likely,” laughed the big man; “I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to -pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them.” - -They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply. -But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the -trouble I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went -up to him. - -“My dear friend,” I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, “I beg, I -pray that you will not lose faith in me,--that you will not think any -deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know -me, and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr. -Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the -Duke of Chartersea.” - -And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face, -shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness. - -“What,” I heard him cry, “Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all -the law in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your -fairweather fowl shall have the chance to run me through!” - -I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses. - -“You believe me, captain,” I said, overcome by the man's faith; “you -believe me when I tell you that one I have known from childhood refused -to recognize me to-day?” - -He raised me in his arms as tenderly as a woman might. - -“And the whole world denied you, lad, I would not. I believe you--” and -he repeated it again and again, unable to get farther. - -And if his words brought tears to my eyes, my strength came with them. - -“Then I care not,” I replied; “I only to live to reward you.” - -“Mr. Manners shall answer for it to me!” cried John Paul again, and made -a pace toward the door. - -“Not so fast, not so fast, captain, or admiral, or whatever you are,” - said the bailiff, stepping in his way, for he was used to such scenes; -“as God reigns, the owners of all these fierce titles be fire-eaters, -who would spit you if you spilt snuff upon 'em. Come, come, gentlemen, -your swords, and we shall see the sights o' London.” - -This was the signal for another uproar, the tailor shrieking that John -Paul must take off the suit, and Banks the livery; asking the man in the -corner by the sea-chests (who proved to be the landlord) who was to pay -him for his work and his lost cloth. And the landlord shook his fist -at us and shouted back, who was to pay him his four pounds odd, which -included two ten-shilling dinners and a flask of his best wine? The -other tradesmen seized what was theirs and made off with remarks -appropriate to the occasion. And when John Paul and my man were divested -of their plumes, we were marched downstairs and out through a jeering -line of people to a hackney coach. - -“Now, sirs, whereaway?” said the bailiff when we were got in beside one -of his men, and burning with the shame of it; “to the prison? Or I has a -very pleasant hotel for gentlemen in Castle Yard.” - -The frightful stories my dear grandfather had told me of the Fleet came -flooding into my head, and I shuddered and turned sick. I glanced at -John Paul. - -“A guinea will not go far in a sponging-house,” said he, and the -bailiff's man laughed. - -The bailiff gave a direction we did not hear, and we drove off. He -proved a bluff fellow with a bloat yet not unkindly humour, and despite -his calling seemed to have something that was human in him. He -passed many a joke on that pitiful journey in an attempt to break our -despondency, urging us not to be downcast, and reminding us that the -last gentleman he had taken from Pall Mall was in over a thousand -pounds, and that our amount was a bagatelle. And when we had gone -through Temple Bar, instead of keeping on down Fleet Street, we jolted -into Chancery Lane. This roused me. - -“My friend has warned you that he has no money,” I said, “and no more -have I.” - -The bailiff regarded me shrewdly. - -“Ay,” he replied, “I know. But I has seen many stripes o' men in my -time, my masters, and I know them to trust, and them whose silver I must -feel or send to the Fleet.” - -I told him unreservedly my case, and that he must take his chance of -being paid; that I could not hear from America for three months at -least. He listened without much show of attention, shaking his head from -side to side. - -“If you ever cheated a man, or the admiral here either, then I begin -over again,” he broke in with decision; “it is the fine sparks from the -clubs I has to watch. You'll not worry, sir, about me. Take my oath I'll -get interest out of you on my money.” - -Unwilling as we both were to be beholden to a bailiff, the alternative -of the Fleet was too terrible to be thought of. And so we alighted after -him with a shiver at the sight of the ugly, grimy face of the house, and -the dirty windows all barred with double iron. In answer to a knock we -were presently admitted by a turnkey to a vestibule as black as a tomb, -and the heavy outer door was locked behind us. Then, as the man cursed -and groped for the keyhole of the inner door, despair laid hold of me. - -Once inside, in the half light of a narrow hallway, a variety of noises -greeted our ears,--laughter from above and below, interspersed with -oaths; the click of billiard balls, and the occasional hammering of -a pack of cards on a bare table before the shuffle. The air was close -almost to suffocation, and out of the coffee room, into which I glanced, -came a heavy cloud of tobacco smoke. - -“Why, my masters, why so glum?” said the bailiff; “my inn is not such a -bad place, and you'll find ample good company here, I promise you.” - -And he led us into a dingy antechamber littered with papers, on every -one of which, I daresay, was written a tragedy. Then he inscribed -our names, ages, descriptions, and the like in a great book, when we -followed him up three flights to a low room under the eaves, having but -one small window, and bare of furniture save two narrow cots for beds, a -broken chair, and a cracked mirror. He explained that cash boarders got -better, and added that we might be happy we were not in the Fleet. - -“We dine at two here, gentlemen, and sup at eight. This is not the Star -and Garter,” said he as he left us. - -It was the captain who spoke first, though he swallowed twice before the -words came out. - -“Come, Richard, come, laddie,” he said, “'tis no so bad it micht-na be -waur. We'll mak the maist o' it.” - -“I care not for myself, Captain Paul,” I replied, marvelling the more at -him, “but to think that I have landed you here, that this is my return -for your sacrifice.” - -“Hoots! How was ye to foresee Mr. Manners was a blellum?” And he broke -into threats which, if Mr. Marmaduke had heard and comprehended, would -have driven him into the seventh state of fear. “Have you no other -friends in London?” he asked, regaining his English. - -I shook my head. Then came--a question I dreaded. - -“And Mr. Manners's family?” - -“I would rather remain here for life,” I said, “than to them now.” - -For pride is often selfish, my dears, and I did not reflect that if I -remained, the captain would remain likewise. - -“Are they all like Mr. Manners?” - -“That they are not,” I returned with more heat than was necessary; “his -wife is goodness itself, and his daughter--” Words failed me, and I -reddened. - -“Ah, he has a daughter, you say,” said the captain, casting a -significant look at me and beginning to pace the little room. He was -keener than I thought, this John Paul. - -If it were not so painful a task, my dears, I would give you here some -notion of what a London sponging-house was in the last century. Comyn -has heard me tell of it, and I have seen Bess cry over the story. -Gaming was the king-vice of that age, and it filled these places -to overflowing. Heaven help a man who came into the world with that -propensity in the early days of King George the Third. Many, alas, -acquired it before they were come to years of discretion. Next me, at -the long table where we were all thrown in together,--all who could not -pay for private meals,--sat a poor fellow who had flung away a patrimony -of three thousand a year. Another had even mortgaged to a Jew his -prospects on the death of his mother, and had been seized by the -bailiffs outside of St. James's palace, coming to Castle Yard direct -from his Majesty's levee. Yet another, with such a look of dead hope -in his eyes as haunts me yet, would talk to us by the hour of the -Devonshire house where he was born, of the green valley and the peaceful -stream, and of the old tower-room, caressed by trees, where Queen Bess -had once lain under the carved oak rafters. Here he had taken his young -wife, and they used to sit together, so he said, in the sunny oriel over -the water, and he had sworn to give up the cards. That was but three -years since, and then all had gone across the green cloth in one mad -night in St. James's Street. Their friends had deserted them, and the -poor little woman was lodged in Holborn near by, and came every morning -with some little dainty to the bailiff's, for her liege lord who had so -used her. He pressed me to share a fowl with him one day, but it would -have choked me. God knows where she got the money to buy it. I saw her -once hanging on his neck in the hall, he trying to shield her from the -impudent gaze of his fellow-lodgers. - -But some of them lived like lords in luxury, with never a seeming -regret; and had apartments on the first floor, and had their tea and -paper in bed, and lounged out the morning in a flowered nightgown, and -the rest of the day in a laced coat. These drank the bailiff's best port -and champagne, and had nothing better than a frown or haughty look for -us, when we passed them at the landing. Whence the piper was paid I knew -not, and the bailiff cared not. But the bulk of the poor gentlemen were -a merry crew withal, and had their wit and their wine at table, and knew -each other's histories (and soon enough ours) by heart. They betted away -the week at billiards or whist or picquet or loo, and sometimes measured -swords for diversion, tho' this pastime the bailiff was greatly set -against; as calculated to deprive him of a lodger. - -Although we had no money for gaming, and little for wine or tobacco, the -captain and I were received very heartily into the fraternity. After -one afternoon of despondency we both voted it the worst of bad policy -to remain aloof and nurse our misfortune, and spent our first evening -in making acquaintances over a deal of very thin “debtor's claret.” I -tossed long that night on the hard cot, listening to the scurrying rats -among the roof-timbers. They ran like the thoughts in my brain. And -before I slept I prayed again and again that God would put it in my -power to reward him whom charity for a friendless foundling had brought -to a debtor's prison. - -Not so much as a single complaint or reproach had passed his lips! - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. THE RESCUE - -Perchance, my dears, if John Paul and I had not been cast by accident -in a debtor's prison, this great man might never have bestowed upon -our country those glorious services which contributed so largely to -its liberty. And I might never have comprehended that the American -Revolution was brought on and fought by a headstrong king, backed by -unscrupulous followers who held wealth above patriotism. It is often -difficult to lay finger upon the causes which change the drift of a -man's opinions, and so I never wholly knew why John Paul abandoned his -deep-rooted purpose to obtain advancement in London by grace of the -accomplishments he had laboured so hard to attain. But I believe the -beginning was at the meeting at Windsor with the slim and cynical -gentleman who had treated him to something between patronage and -contempt. Then my experience with Mr. Manners had so embedded itself -in his mind that he could never speak of it but with impatience and -disgust. And, lastly, the bailiff's hotel contained many born gentlemen -who had been left here to rot out the rest of their dreary lives by -friends who were still in power and opulence. More than once when I -climbed to our garret I found the captain seated on the three-legged -chair, with his head between his hands, sunk in reflection. - -“You were right, Richard,” said he; “your great world is a hard world -for those in the shadow of it. I see now that it must not be entered -from below, but from the cabin window. A man may climb around it, lad, -and when he is above may scourge it.” - -“And you will scourge it, captain!” I had no doubt of his ability one -day to do it. - -“Ay, and snap my fingers at it. 'Tis a pretty organization, this -society, which kicks the man who falls to the dogs. None of your fine -gentlemen for me!” - -And he would descend to talk politics with our fellow-guests. We should -have been unhappy indeed had it not been for this pastime. It seems -to me strange that these debtors took such a keen interest in outside -affairs, even tho' it was a time of great agitation. We read with -eagerness the cast-off newspapers of the first-floor gentlemen. One poor -devil who had waddled (failed) in Change Alley had collected under his -mattress the letters of Junius, then selling the Public Advertiser as -few publications had ever sold before. John Paul devoured these attacks -upon his Majesty and his ministry in a single afternoon, and ere long -he had on the tip of his tongue the name and value of every man in -Parliament and out of it. He learned, almost by heart, the history of -the astonishing fight made by Mr. Wilkes for the liberties of England, -and speedily was as good a Whig and a better than the member from -Middlesex himself. - -The most of our companions were Tories, for, odd as it may appear, they -retained their principles even in Castle Yard. And in those days to be a -Tory was to be the friend of the King, and to be the friend of the King -was to have some hope of advancement and reward at his hand. They had -none. The captain joined forces with the speculator from the Alley, who -had hitherto contended against mighty odds, and together they bore down -upon the enemy--ay, and rooted him, too. For John Paul had an air about -him and a natural gift of oratory to command attention, and shortly the -dining room after dinner became the scene of such contests as to call -up in the minds of the old stagers a field night in the good days of -Mr. Pitt and the second George. The bailiff often sat by the door, an -interested spectator, and the macaroni lodgers condescended to come -downstairs and listen. The captain attained to fame in our little -world from his maiden address, in which he very shrewdly separated -the political character of Mr. Wilkes from his character as a private -gentleman, and so refuted a charge of profligacy against the people's -champion. - -Altho' I never had sufficient confidence in my powers to join in these -discussions, I followed them zealously, especially when they touched -American questions, as they frequently did. This subject of the wrongs -of the colonies was the only one I could ever be got to study at King -William's School, and I believe that my intimate knowledge of it gave -the captain a surprise. He fell into the habit of seating himself on -the edge of my bed after we had retired for the night, and would hold -me talking until the small hours upon the injustice of taxing a people -without their consent, and upon the multitude of measures of coercion -which the King had pressed upon us to punish our resistance. He -declaimed so loudly against the tyranny of quartering troops upon a -peaceable state that our exhausted neighbours were driven to pounding -their walls and ceilings for peace. The news of the Boston massacre had -not then reached England. - -I was not, therefore, wholly taken by surprise when he said to me one -night: - -“I am resolved to try my fortune in America, lad. That is the land for -such as I, where a man may stand upon his own merits.” - -“Indeed, we shall go together, captain,” I answered heartily, “if we are -ever free of this cursed house. And you shall taste of our hospitality -at Carvel Hall, and choose that career which pleases you. Faith, I could -point you a dozen examples in Annapolis of men who have made their way -without influence. But you shall have influence,” I cried, glowing -at the notion of rewarding him; “you shall experience Mr. Carvel's -gratitude and mine. You shall have the best of our ships, and you will.” - -He was a man to take fire easily, and embraced me. And, strange to say, -neither he nor I saw the humour, nor the pity, of the situation. How -many another would long before have become sceptical of my promises! And -justly. For I had led him to London, spent all his savings, and then -got him into a miserable prison, and yet he had faith remaining, and to -spare! - -It occurred to me to notify Mr. Dix of my residence in Castle Yard, -not from any hope that he would turn his hand to my rescue, but that -he might know where to find me if he heard from Maryland. And I penned -another letter to Mr. Carvel, but a feeling I took no pains to define -compelled me to withhold an account of Mr. Manners's conduct. And -I refrained from telling him that I was in a debtor's prison. For I -believe the thought of a Carvel in a debtor's prison would have killed -him. I said only that we were comfortably lodged in a modest part of -London; that the Manners were inaccessible (for I could not bring myself -to write that they were out of town). Just then a thought struck me with -such force that I got up with a cheer and hit the astonished captain -between the shoulders. - -“How now!” he cried, ruefully rubbing himself. “If these are thy -amenities, Richard, Heaven spare me thy blows.” - -“Why, I have been a fool, and worse,” I shouted. “My grandfather's ship, -the Sprightly Bess, is overhauling this winter in the Severn. And unless -she has sailed, which I think unlikely, I have but to despatch a line to -Bristol to summon Captain Bell, the master, to London. I think he will -bring the worthy Mr. Dix to terms.” - -“Whether he will or no,” said John Paul, hope lighting his face, “Bell -must have command of the twenty pounds to free us, and will take us -back to America. For I must own, Richard, that I have no great love for -London.” - -No more had I. I composed this letter to Bell in such haste that my hand -shook, and sent it off with a shilling to the bailiff's servant, that it -might catch the post. And that afternoon we had a two-shilling bottle of -port for dinner, which we shared with a broken-down parson who had been -chaplain in ordinary to my Lord Wortley, and who had preached us an -Easter sermon the day before. For it was Easter Monday. Our talk was -broken into by the bailiff, who informed me that a man awaited me in the -passage, and my heart leaped into my, throat. - -There was Banks. Thinking he had come to reproach me; I asked him rather -sharply what he wanted. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other -and looked sheepish. - -“Your pardon, sir,” said he, “but your honour must be very ill-served -here.” - -“Better than I should be, Banks, for I have no money,” I said, wondering -if he thought me a first-floor lodger. - -He made no immediate reply to that, either, but seemed more uneasy -still. And I took occasion to note his appearance. He was exceeding neat -in a livery of his old master, which he had stripped of the trimmings. -Then, before I had guessed at his drift, he thrust his hand inside his -coat and drew forth a pile of carefully folded bank notes. - -“I be a single man, sir, and has small need of this. And and I knows -your honour will pay me when your letter comes from America.” - -And he handed me five Bank of England notes of ten pounds apiece. I took -them mechanically, without knowing what I did. The generosity of the -act benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the -offer upon the impulse of it. - -“How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?” I asked -curiously. - -“No fear, sir,” he replied promptly, actually brightening at the -prospect. “I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will -go to America with you, and you say the word, sir.” - -I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce -knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me -again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes -upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the -sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of -a servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off, -first getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my -release. - -On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the -appearance of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us -lest he had already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's -letters contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to -keep in humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had -gone. Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I -know not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, -not daring to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,--that the -Sprightly Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over the dreary -stretch of roofs and down into a dingy court of Bernard's Inn below, -when suddenly there arose a commotion on the stairs, as of a man -mounting hastily. The door was almost flung from its hinges, some one -caught me by the shoulders, gazed eagerly into my face, and drew back. -For a space I thought myself dreaming. I searched my memory, and the -name came. Had it been Dorothy, or Mr. Carvel himself, I could not have -been more astonished, and my knees weakened under me. - -“Jack!” I exclaimed; “Lord Comyn!” - -He seized my hand. “Yes; Jack, whose life you saved, and no other,” he -cried, with a sailor's impetuosity. “My God, Richard! it was true, then; -and you have been in this place for three weeks!” - -“For three weeks,” I repeated. - -He looked at me, at John Paul, who was standing by in bewilderment, -and then about the grimy, cobwebbed walls of the dark garret, and then -turned his back to hide his emotion, and so met the bailiff, who was -coming in. - -“For how much are these gentlemen in your books?” he demanded hotly. - -“A small matter, your Lordship,--a mere trifle,” said the man, bowing. - -“How much, I say?” - -“Twenty-two guineas, five shillings, and eight pence, my Lord, counting -debts, and board,--and interest,” the bailiff glibly replied; for he had -no doubt taken off the account when he spied his Lordship's coach. “And -I was very good to Mr. Carvel and the captain, as your Lordship will -discover--” - -“D--n your goodness!” said my Lord, cutting him short. - -And he pulled out a wallet and threw some pieces at the bailiff, bidding -him get change with all haste. “And now, Richard,” he added, with a -glance of disgust about him, “pack up, and we'll out of this cursed -hole!” - -“I have nothing to pack, my Lord,” I said. - -“My Lord! Jack, I have told you, or I leave you here.” - -“Well, then, Jack, and you will,” said I, overflowing with thankfulness -to God for the friends He had bestowed upon me. “But before we go a -step, Jack, you must know the man but for whose bravery I should long -ago have been dead of fever and ill-treatment in the Indies, and whose -generosity has brought him hither. My Lord Comyn, this is Captain John -Paul.” - -The captain, who had been quite overwhelmed by this sudden arrival of a -real lord to our rescue at the very moment when we had sunk to despair, -and no less astonished by the intimacy that seemed to exist between the -newcomer and myself, had the presence of mind to bend his head, and that -was all. Comyn shook his hand heartily. - -“You shall not lack reward for this, captain, I promise you,” cried he. -“What you have done for Mr. Carvel, you have done for me. Captain, I -thank you. You shall have my interest.” - -I flushed, seeing John Paul draw his lips together. But how was his -Lordship to know that he was dealing with no common sea-captain? - -“I have sought no reward, my Lord,” said he. “What I have done was out -of friendship for Mr. Carvel, solely.” - -Comyn was completely taken by surprise by these words, and by the -haughty tone in which they were spoken. He had not looked for a -gentleman, and no wonder. He took a quizzical sizing of the sky-blue -coat. Such a man in such a station was out of his experience. - -“Egad, I believe you, captain,” he answered, in a voice which said -plainly that he did not. “But he shall be rewarded nevertheless, eh, -Richard? I'll see Charles Fox in this matter to-morrow. Come, come,” - he added impatiently, “the bailiff must have his change by now. Come, -Richard!” and he led the way down the winding stairs. - -“You must not take offence at his ways,” I whispered to the captain. For -I well knew that a year before I should have taken the same tone with -one not of my class. “His Lordship is all kindness.” - -“I have learned a bit since I came into England, Richard,” was his sober -reply. - -“'Twas a pitiful sight to see gathered on the landings the poor fellows -we had come to know in Castle Yard, whose horizons were then as gray as -ours was bright. But they each had a cheery word of congratulation for -us as we passed, and the unhappy gentleman from Devonshire pressed my -hand and begged that I would sometime think of him when I was out under -the sky. I promised even more, and am happy to be able to say, my dears, -that I saw both him and his wife off for America before I left London. -Our eyes were wet when we reached the lower hall, and I was making for -the door in an agony to leave the place, when the bailiff came out of -his little office. - -“One moment, sir,” he said, getting in front of me; “there is a little -form yet to be gone through. The haste of gentlemen to leave us is not -flattering.” - -He glanced slyly at Comyn, and his Lordship laughed a little. I stepped -unsuspectingly into the office. - -“Richard!” - -I stopped across the threshold as tho' I had been struck. The late -sunlight filtering through the dirt of the window fell upon the -tall figure of a girl and lighted an upturned face, and I saw tears -glistening on the long lashes. - -It was Dorothy. Her hands were stretched out in welcome, and then I had -them pressed in my own. And I could only look and look again, for I was -dumb with joy. - -“Thank God you are alive!” she cried; “alive and well, when we feared -you dead. Oh, Richard, we have been miserable indeed since we had news -of your disappearance.” - -“This is worth it all, Dolly,” I said, only brokenly. - -She dropped her eyes, which had searched me through in wonder and -pity,--those eyes I had so often likened to the deep blue of the -sea,--and her breast rose and fell quickly with I knew not what -emotions. How the mind runs, and the heart runs, at such a time! Here -was the same Dorothy I had known in Maryland, and yet not the same. For -she was a woman now, who had seen the great world, who had refused both -titles and estates,--and perchance accepted them. She drew her hands -from mine. - -“And how came you in such a place?” she asked, turning with a shudder. -“Did you not know you had friends in London, sir?” - -Not for so much again would I have told her of Mr. Manners's conduct. So -I stood confused, casting about for a reply with truth in it, when Comyn -broke in upon us. - -“I'll warrant you did not look for her here, Richard. Faith, but you are -a lucky dog,” said my Lord, shaking his head in mock dolefulness; “for -there is no man in London, in the world, for whom she would descend a -flight of steps, save you. And now she has driven the length of the town -when she heard you were in a sponging-house, nor all the dowagers in -Mayfair could stop her.” - -“Fie, Comyn,” said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; “that -tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's -privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you -know you were full as keen for his rescue as I.” - -His Lordship pinched me playfully. - -“I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me,” - said he. - -“But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?” asked Dolly, -stamping her foot. - -“What,” I exclaimed; “you know the story?” - -“Never mind,” said she; “bring him here.” - -My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul -since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and -took him by the hand. - -“A lady wishes to know you, captain,” I said. - -“A lady!” he cried. “Here? Impossible!” And he looked at his clothes. - -“Who cares more for your heart than your appearance,” I answered gayly, -and led him into the office. - -At sight of Dorothy he stopped abruptly, confounded, as a man who sees a -diamond in a dust-heap. And a glow came over me as I said: - -“Miss Manners, here is Captain Paul, to whose courage and unselfishness -I owe everything.” - -“Captain,” said Dorothy, graciously extending her hand, “Richard has -many friends. You have put us all in your debt, and none deeper than his -old playmate.” - -The captain fairly devoured her with his eyes as she made him a -curtsey. But he was never lacking in gallantry, and was as brave on such -occasions as when all the dangers of the deep threatened him. With an -elaborate movement he took Miss Manners's fingers and kissed them, and -then swept the floor with a bow. - -“To have such a divinity in my debt, madam, is too much happiness for -one man,” he said. “I have done nothing to merit it. A lifetime were all -too short to pay for such a favour.” - -I had almost forgotten Miss Dolly the wayward, the mischievous. But she -was before me now, her eyes sparkling, and biting her lips to keep down -her laughter. Comyn turned to fleck the window with his handkerchief, -while I was not a little put out at their mirth. But if John Paul -observed it, he gave no sign. - -“Captain, I vow your manners are worthy of a Frenchman,” said my Lord; -“and yet I am given to understand you are a Scotchman.” - -A shadow crossed the captain's face. - -“I was, sir,” he said. - -“You were!” exclaimed Comyn, astonished; “and pray, what are you now, -sir?” - -“Henceforth, my Lord,” John Paul replied with vast ceremony: “I am an -American, the compatriot of the beautiful Miss Manners!” - -“One thing I'll warrant, captain,” said his Lordship, “that you are a -wit.” - - - - -Volume 5. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. THE PART HORATIO PLAYED - -The bailiff's business was quickly settled. I heard the heavy doors -close at our backs, and drew a deep draught of the air God has made for -all His creatures alike. Both the captain and I turned to the windows -to wave a farewell to the sad ones we were leaving behind, who gathered -about the bars for a last view of us, for strange as it may seem, the -mere sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad. A -coach in private arms and livery was in waiting, surrounded by a crowd. -They made a lane for us to pass, and stared at the young lady of queenly -beauty coming out of the sponging-house until the coachman snapped his -whip in their faces and the footman jostled them back. When we were -got in, Dolly and I on the back seat, Comyn told the man to go to Mr. -Manners's. - -“Oh, no!” I cried, scarce knowing what I said; “no, not there!” For the -thought of entering the house in Arlington Street was unbearable. - -Both Comyn and Dorothy gazed at me in astonishment. - -“And pray, Richard, why not'?” she asked. “Have not your old friends the -right to receive you.” - -It was my Lord who saved me, for I was in agony what to say. - -“He is still proud, and won't go to Arlington Street dressed like a -bargeman. He must needs plume, Miss Manners.” - -I glanced anxiously at Dorothy, and saw that she was neither satisfied -nor appeased. Well I remembered every turn of her head, and every curve -of her lip! In the meantime we were off through Cursitor Street at a -gallop, nearly causing the death of a ragged urchin at the corner of -Chancery Lane. I had forgotten my eagerness to know whence they had -heard of my plight, when some words from Comyn aroused me. - -“The carriage is Mr. Horace Walpole's, Richard. He has taken a great -fancy to you.” - -“But I have never so much as clapped eyes upon him!” I exclaimed in -perplexity. - -“How about his honour with whom you supped at Windsor? how about the -landlord you spun by the neck? You should have heard the company laugh -when Horry told us that! And Miss Dolly cried out that she was sure it -must be Richard, and none other. Is it not so, Miss Manners?” - -“Really, my Lord, I can't remember,” replied Dolly, looking out of the -coach window. “Who put those frightful skulls upon Temple Bar?” - -Then the mystery of their coming was clear to me, and the superior -gentleman at the Castle Inn had been the fashionable dabbler in arts and -letters and architecture of Strawberry Hill, of whom I remembered -having heard Dr. Courtenay speak, Horace Walpole. But I was then far -too concerned about Dorothy to listen to more. Her face was still turned -away from me, and she was silent. I could have cut out my tongue for my -blunder. Presently, when we were nearly out of the Strand, she turned -upon me abruptly. - -“We have not yet heard, Richard,” she said, “how you got into such a -predicament.” - -“Indeed, I don't know myself, Dolly. Some scoundrel bribed the captain -of the slaver. For I take it Mr. Walpole has told you I was carried off -on a slaver, if he recalled that much of the story.” - -“I don't mean that,” answered Dolly, impatiently. “There is something -strange about all this. How is it that you were in prison?” - -“Mr. Dix, my grandfather's agent, took me for an impostor and would -advance me no money,” I answered, hard pushed. - -But Dorothy had a woman's instinct, which is often the best of -understanding. And I was beginning to think that a suspicion was at the -bottom of her questions. She gave her head an impatient fling, and, as I -feared, appealed to John Paul. - -“Perhaps you can tell me, captain, why he did not come to his friends in -his trouble.” - -And despite my signals to him he replied: “In truth, my dear lady, he -haunted the place for a sight of you, from the moment he set foot in -London.” - -Comyn laughed, and I felt the blood rise to my face, and kicked John -Paul viciously. Dolly retained her self-possession. - -“Pho!” says she; “for a sight of me! You seamen are all alike. For -a sight of me! And had you not strength enough to lift a knocker, -sir,--you who can raise a man from the ground with one hand?” - -“'Twas before his tailor had prepared him, madam, and he feared to -disgrace you,” the captain gravely continued, and I perceived how futile -it were to attempt to stop him. “And afterward--” - -“And afterward?” repeated Dorothy, leaning forward. - -“And afterward he went to Arlington Street with Mr. Dix to seek -Mr. Manners, that he might be identified before that gentleman. He -encountered Mr. Manners and his Grace of Something.” - -“Chartersea,” put in Comyn, who had been listening eagerly. “Getting out -of a coach,” said the captain. - -“When was this?” demanded Dorothy of me, interrupting him. Her voice was -steady, but the colour had left her face. - -“About three weeks ago.” - -“Please be exact, Richard.” - -“Well, if you must,” said I, “the day was Tuesday, and the time about -half an hour after two.” - -She said nothing for a while, trying to put down an agitation which was -beginning to show itself in spite of her effort. As for me, I was almost -wishing myself back in the sponginghouse. - -“Are you sure my father saw you?” she asked presently. - -“As clearly as you do now, Dolly,” I said. - -“But your clothes? He might have gone by you in such.” - -“I pray that he did, Dorothy,” I replied. But I was wholly convinced -that Mr. Manners had recognized me. - -“And--and what did he say?” she asked. - -For she had the rare courage that never shrinks from the truth. I think -I have never admired and pitied her as at that moment. - -“He said to the footman,” I answered, resolved to go through with it -now, “'Give the man a shilling.' That was his Grace's suggestion.” - -My Lord uttered something very near an oath. And she spoke not a word -more until I handed her out in Arlington Street. The rest of us were -silent, too, Comyn now and again giving me eloquent glances expressive -of what he would say if she were not present; the captain watching her -with a furtive praise, and he vowed to me afterward she was never so -beautiful as when angry, that he loved her as an avenging Diana. But I -was uneasy, and when I stood alone with her before the house I begged -her not to speak to her father of the episode. - -“Nay, he must be cleared of such an imputation, Richard,” she answered -proudly. “He may have made mistakes, but I feel sure he would never turn -you away when you came to him in trouble--you, the grandson of his old -friend, Lionel Carvel.” - -“Why bother over matters that are past and gone? I would have borne an -hundred such trials to have you come to me as you came to-day, Dorothy. -And I shall surely see you again,” I said, trying to speak lightly; “and -your mother, to whom you will present my respects, before I sail for -America.” - -She looked up at me, startled. - -“Before you sail for America!” she exclaimed, in a tone that made me -thrill at once with joy and sadness. “And are you not, then, to see -London now you are here?” - -“Are you never coming back, Dolly?” I whispered; for I feared Mr. -Marmaduke might appear at any moment; “or do you wish to remain in -England always?” - -For an instant I felt her pressure on my hand, and then she had fled -into the house, leaving me standing by the steps looking after her. -Comyn's voice aroused me. - -“To the Star and Garter!” I heard him command, and on the way to Pall -Mall he ceased not to rate Mr. Manners with more vigour than propriety. -“I never liked the little cur, d--n him! No one likes him, Richard,” he -declared. “All the town knows how Chartersea threw a bottle at him, and -were it not for his daughter he had long since been put out of White's. -Were it not for Miss Dolly I would call him out for this cowardly trick, -and then publish him.” - -“Nay, my Lord, I had held that as my privilege,” interrupted the -captain, “were it not, as you say, for Miss Manners.” - -His Lordship shot a glance at John Paul somewhat divided between -surprise, resentment, and amusement. - -“Now you have seen the daughter, captain, you perceive it is -impossible,” I hastened to interpose. - -“How in the name of lineage did she come to have such a father?” Comyn -went on. “I thank Heaven he's not mine. He's not fit to be her lackey. I -would sooner twenty times have a profligate like my Lord Sandwich for -a parent than a milk and water sop like Manners, who will risk nothing -over a crown piece at play or a guinea at Newmarket. By G--, Richard,” - said his Lordship, bringing his fist against the glass with near force -enough to break the pane, “I have a notion why he did not choose to see -you that day. Why, he has no more blood than a louse!” - -I had come to the guess as soon as he, but I dared not give it voice, -nor anything but ridicule. And so we came to the hotel, the red of -departing day fading in the sky above the ragged house-line in St. -James's Street. - -It was a very different reception we got than when we had first come -there. You, my dears, who live in this Republic can have no notion of -the stir and bustle caused by the arrival of Horace Walpole's carriage -at a fashionable hotel, at a time when every innkeeper was versed in -the arms of every family of note in the three kingdoms. Our friend the -chamberlain was now humility itself, and fairly ran in his eagerness to -anticipate Comyn's demands. It was “Yes, my Lord,” and “To be sure, your -Lordship,” every other second, and he seized the first occasion to make -me an elaborate apology for his former cold conduct, assuring me that -had our honours been pleased to divulge the fact that we had friends -in London, such friends as my Lord Comyn and Mr. Walpole, whose great -father he had once had the distinction to serve as linkman, all would -have been well. And he was desiring me particularly to comprehend that -he had been acting under most disagreeable orders when he sent for the -bailiff, before I cut him short. - -We were soon comfortably installed in our old rooms; Comyn had sent -post-haste for Davenport, who chanced to be his own tailor, and for the -whole army of auxiliaries indispensable to a gentleman's make-up; and -Mr. Dix was notified that his Lordship would receive him at eleven on -the following morning, in my rooms. I remembered the faithful Banks with -a twinge of gratitude, and sent for him. And John Paul and I, having -been duly installed in the clothes made for us, all three of us sat down -merrily to such a supper as only the cook of the Star and Garter, who -had been chef to the Comte de Maurepas, could prepare. Then I begged -Comyn to relate the story of our rescue, which I burned to hear. - -“Why, Richard,” said he, filling his glass, “had you run afoul any -other man in London, save perchance Selwyn, you'd have been drinking the -bailiff's triple-diluted for a month to come. I never knew such a brace -of fools as he and Horry for getting hold of strange yarns and making -them stranger; the wonder was that Horry told this as straight as he -did. He has written it to all his friends on the Continent, and had he -not been in dock with the gout ever since he reached town, he would -have told it at the opera, and at a dozen routs and suppers. Beg pardon, -captain,” said he, turning to John Paul, “but I think 'twas your peacock -coat that saved you both, for it caught Horry's eye through the window, -as you got out of the chaise, and down he came as fast as he could -hobble. - -“Horry had a little dinner to-day in Arlington Street, where he lives, -and Miss Dorothy was there. I have told you, Richard, there has been -no sensation in town equal to that of your Maryland beauty, since Lady -Sarah Lennox. You may have some notion of the old beau Horry can be when -he tries, and he is over-fond of Miss Dolly--she puts him in mind of -some canvas or other of Sir Peter's. He vowed he had been saving this -piece de resistance, as he was pleased to call it, expressly for her, -since it had to do somewhat with Maryland. 'What d'ye think I met at -Windsor, Miss Manners?' he cries, before we had begun the second course. - -“'Perhaps a repulse from his Majesty,' says Dolly, promptly. - -“'Nay,' says Mr. Walpole, making a face, for he hates a laugh at his -cost; nothing less than a young American giant, with the attire of Dr. -Benjamin Franklin and the manner of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain. But he -had a whiff of deer leather about him, and shoulders and back and legs -to make his fortune at Hockley in the Hole, had he lived two generations -since. And he had with him a strange, Scotch sea-captain, who had -rescued him from pirates, bless you, no less. That is, he said he was -a sea-captain; but he talked French like a Parisian, and quoted -Shakespeare like Mr. Burke or Dr. Johnson. He may have been M. Caron de -Beaumarchais, for I never saw him, or a soothsayer, or Cagliostro the -magician, for he guessed my name.' - -“'Guessed your name!' we cried, for the story was out of the ordinary. - -“'Just that,' answered he, and repeated some damned verse I never heard, -with Horatio in it, and made them all laugh.” - -John Paul and I looked at each other in astonishment, and we, too, -laughed heartily. It was indeed an odd coincidence. - -His Lordship continued: “'Well, be that as it may,' said Horry, 'he was -an able man of sagacity, this sea-captain, and, like many another, had -a penchant for being a gentleman. But he was more of an oddity than -Hertford's beast of Gevaudan, and was dressed like Salvinio, the monkey -my Lord Holland brought back from his last Italian tour.'” - -I have laughed over this description since, my dears, and so has John -Paul. But at that time I saw nothing funny in it, and winced with him -when Comyn repeated it with such brutal unconsciousness. However, young -Englishmen of birth and wealth of that day were not apt to consider the -feelings of those they deemed below them. - -“Come to your story. Comyn,” I cut in testily. - -But his Lordship missed entirely the cause of my displeasure. - -“Listen to him!” he exclaimed good-naturedly. “He will hear of nothing -but Miss Dolly. Well, Richard, my lad, you should have seen her as Horry -went on to tell that you had been taken from Maryland, with her head -forward and her lips parted, and a light in those eyes of hers to make -a man fall down and worship. For Mr. Lloyd, or some one in your Colony, -had written of your disappearance, and I vow bliss Dorothy has not been -the same since. Nor have I been the only one to remark it,” said he, -waving off my natural protest at such extravagance. “We have talked of -you more than once, she and I, and mourned you for dead. But I am off -my course again, as we sailors say, captain. Horry was describing how -Richard lifted little Goble by one hand and spun all the dignity out -of him, when Miss Manners broke in, being able to contain herself no -longer. - -“'An American, Mr. Walpole, and from Maryland?' she demanded. And the -way she said it made them all look at her. - -“'Assurement, mademoiselle,' replied Horry, in his cursed French; -and perhaps you know him. He would gladden the heart of Frederick of -Prussia, for he stands six and three if an inch. I took such a fancy to -the lad that I invited him to sup with me, and he gave me back a message -fit for Mr. Wilkes to send to his Majesty, as haughty as you choose, -that if I desired him I must have his friend in the bargain. You -Americans are the very devil for independence, Miss Manners! 'Ods -fish, I liked his spirit so much I had his friend, Captain something or -other--'and there he stopped, caught by Miss Manners's appearance, for -she was very white. - -“'The name is Richard Carvel!' she cried. - -“'I'll lay a thousand it was!' I shouted, rising in my chair. And the -company stared, and Lady Pembroke vowed I had gone mad. - -“'Bless me, bless me, here's a romance for certain!' cried Horry; 'it -throws my “Castle of Otranto” in the shade' (“that's some damned book he -has written,” Comyn interjected). - -“You may not believe me, Richard, when I say that Miss Dolly ate but -little after that, and her colour came and went like the red of a stormy -sunset at sea. 'Here's this dog Richard come to spill all our chances,' -I swore to myself. The company had been prodigiously entertained by the -tale, and clamoured for more, and when Horry had done I told how you had -fought me at Annapolis, and had saved my life. But Miss Manners sat very -still, biting her lip, and I knew she was sadly vexed that you had not -gone to her in Arlington Street. For a woman will reason thus,” said his -Lordship, winking wisely. “But I more than suspected something to have -happened, so I asked Horry to send his fellow Favre over to the Star and -Garter to see if you were there, tho' I was of three minds to let you -go to the devil. You should have seen her face when he came back to say -that you had been for three weeks in a Castle Yard sponging-house! Then -Horry said he would lend me his coach, and when it was brought around -Miss Manners took our breaths by walking downstairs and into it, nor -would she listen to a word of the objections cried by my Lady Pembroke -and the rest. You must know there is no stopping the beauty when she has -made her mind. And while they were all chattering on the steps I jumped -in, and off we drove, and you will be the most talked-of man in London -to-morrow. I give you Miss Manners!” cried his Lordship, as he ended. - -We all stood to the toast, I with my blood a-tingle and my brain awhirl, -so that I scarce knew what I did. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. IN WHICH I AM SORE TEMPTED - -“Who the devil is this John Paul, and what is to become of him?” asked -Comyn, as I escorted him downstairs to a chair. “You must give him two -hundred pounds, or a thousand, if you like, and let him get out. He -can't be coming to the clubs with you.” - -And he pulled me into the coffee room after him. - -“You don't understand the man, Comyn,” said I; “he isn't that kind, I -tell you. What he has done for me is out of friendship, as he says, and -he wouldn't touch a farthing save what I owe him.” - -“Cursed if he isn't a rum sea-captain,” he answered, shrugging his -shoulders; “cursed if I ever ran foul of one yet who would refuse a -couple of hundred and call quits. What's he to do? Is he to live like a -Lord of the Treasury upon a master's savings?” - -“Jack,” said I, soberly, resolved not to be angry, “I would willingly be -cast back in Castle Yard to-night rather than desert him, who might have -deserted me twenty times to his advantage. Mr. Carvel has not wealth -enough, nor I gratitude enough, to reward him. But if our family can -make his fortune, it shall be made. And I am determined to go with him -to America by the first packet I can secure.” - -He clutched my arm with an earnestness to startle me. - -“You must not leave England now,” he said. - -“And why?” - -“Because she will marry Chartersea if you do. And take my oath upon it, -you alone can save her from that.” - -“Nonsense!” I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply. - -“Listen, Richard. Mr. Manners's manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and -the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street. -At first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit. It is said,” he -whispered fearfully, “it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in -his power,--some question of honour, you understand, which will -ruin him,--and that even now the duke is in a position to force the -marriage.” - -He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho' -watching the effect of the intelligence upon me. I was, indeed, stunned. - -“Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice,” my Lord -continued, “I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel. -And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man -alive. For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning.” - -“Oh, no!” I replied passionately; “you are deceived by the old liking -she has always had for me since we were children together.” I was deeply -touched by his friendship. “But tell me how that could affect this -marriage with Chartersea. I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice -for the family honour.” - -He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick. - -“There, curse you, there you are again!” he said, “showing how little -you know of women and of their pride. If she were sure that you loved -her, she would never marry Chartersea or any one else. She has had near -the whole of London at her feet, and toyed with it. Now she has been -amusing herself with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them. -Titles, fame, estates, will not move her.” - -“If she were sure that I loved her!” I repeated, dazed by what he was -saying. “How you are talking, Comyn!” - -“Just that. Ah, how I know her, Richard! She can be reckless beyond -notion. And if it were proved to her that you were in love with Miss -Swain, the barrister's daughter, over whom we were said to have fought, -she would as soon marry Chartersea, or March, or the devil, to show you -how little she cared.” - -“With Patty Swain!” I exclaimed. - -“But if she knew you did not care a rope's end for Patty, Mr. Marmaduke -and his reputation might go into exile together,” he continued, without -heeding. “So much for a woman's pride, I say. The day the news of your -disappearance arrived, Richard, she was starting out with a party to -visit Lord Carlisle's seat, Castle Howard. Not a step would she stir, -though Mr. Marmaduke whined and coaxed and threatened. And I swear to -you she has never been the same since, though few but I know why. I -might tell you more, my lad, were it not a breach of confidence.” - -“Then don't,” I said; for I would not let my feelings run. - -“Egad, then, I will!” he cried impetuously, “for the end justifies it. -You must know that after the letter came from Mr. Lloyd, we thought you -dead. I could never get her to speak of you until a fortnight ago. We -both had gone with a party to see Wanstead and dine at the Spread Eagle -upon the Forest, and I stole her away from the company and led her out -under the trees. My God, Richard, how beautiful she was in the wood -with the red in her cheeks and the wind blowing her black hair! For the -second time I begged her to be Lady Comyn. Fool that I was, I thought -she wavered, and my heart beat as it never will again. Then, as she -turned away, from her hand slipped a little gold-bound purse, and as I -picked it up a clipping from a newspaper fluttered out. 'Pon my soul, it -was that very scandalous squib of the Maryland Gazette about our duel! -I handed it back with a bow. I dared not look up at her face, but stood -with my eyes on the ground, waiting. - -“'Lord Comyn,' says she, presently, with a quiver in her voice, 'before -I give you a reply you must first answer, on your word as a gentleman, -what I ask you.' - -“I bowed again. - -“'Is it true that Richard Carvel was in love with Miss Swain?' she -asked.” - -“And you said, Comyn,” I broke in, unable longer to contain myself, “you -said--” - -“I said: 'Dorothy, if I were to die to-morrow, I would swear Richard -Carvel loved you, and you only.'” - -His Lordship had spoken with that lightness which hides only the deepest -emotion. - -“And she refused you?” I cried. “Oh, surely not for that!” - -“And she did well,” said my Lord. - -I bowed my head on my arms, for I had gone through a great deal that -day, and this final example of Comyn's generosity overwhelmed me. Then -I felt his hand laid kindly on my shoulder, and I rose up and seized it. -His eyes were dim, as were mine. - -“And now, will you go to Maryland and be a fool?” asked his Lordship. - -I hesitated, sadly torn between duty and inclination. John Paul could, -indeed, go to America without me. Next the thought came over me in a -flash that my grandfather might be ill, or even dead, and there would -be no one to receive the captain. I knew he would never consent to spend -the season at the Star and Garter at my expense. And then the image of -the man rose before me, of him who had given me all he owned, and gone -with me so cheerfully to prison, though he knew me not from the veriest -adventurer and impostor. I was undecided no longer. - -“I must go, Jack,” I said sadly; “as God judges, I must.” - -He looked at me queerly, as if I were beyond his comprehension, picked -up his hat, called out that he would see me in the morning, and was -gone. - -I went slowly upstairs, threw off my clothes mechanically, and tumbled -into bed. The captain had long been asleep. By the exertion of all the -will power I could command, I was able gradually to think more and more -soberly, and the more I thought, the more absurd, impossible, it seemed -that I, a rough provincial not yet of age, should possess the heart of -a beauty who had but to choose from the best of all England. An hundred -times I went over the scene of poor Comyn's proposal, nay, saw it -vividly, as though the whole of it had been acted before me: and as I -became calmer, the plainer I perceived that Dorothy, thinking me dead, -was willing to let Comyn believe that she had loved me, and had so eased -the soreness of her refusal. Perhaps, in truth, a sentiment had sprung -up in her breast when she heard of my disappearance, which she mistook -for love. But surely the impulse that sent her to Castle Yard was not -the same as that Comyn had depicted: it was merely the survival of the -fancy of a little girl in a grass-stained frock, who had romped on the -lawn at Carvel Hall. I sighed as I remembered the sun and the flowers -and the blue Chesapeake, and recalled the very toss of her head when she -had said she would marry nothing less than a duke. - -Alas, Dolly, perchance it was to be nothing more than a duke! The -bloated face and beady eyes and the broad crooked back I had seen that -day in Arlington Street rose before me,--I should know his Grace of -Chartersea again were I to meet him in purgatory. Was it, indeed, -possible that I could prevent her marriage with this man? I fell asleep, -repeating the query, as the dawn was sifting through the blinds. - -I awakened late. Banks was already there to dress me, to congratulate me -as discreetly as a well-trained servant should; nor did he remind me -of the fact that he had offered to lend me money, for which omission -I liked him the better. In the parlour I found the captain sipping his -chocolate and reading his morning Chronicle, as though all his life he -had done nothing else. - -“Good morning, captain.” And fetching him a lick on the back that nearly -upset his bowl, I cried as heartily as I could: - -“Egad, if our luck holds, we'll be sailing before the week is out.” - -But he looked troubled. He hemmed and hawed, and finally broke out into -Scotch: - -“Indeed, laddie, y'ell no be leaving Miss Dorothy for me.” - -“What nonsense has Comyn put into your head?” I demanded, with a stitch -in my side; I am no more to Miss Manners than--” - -“Than John Paul! Faith, y'ell not make me believe that. Ah, Richard,” - said he, “ye're a sly dog. You and I have been as thick these twa months -as men can well live, and never a word out of you of the most sublime -creature that walks. I have seen women in many countries, lad, beauties -to set thoughts afire and swords a-play,--and 'tis not her beauty alone. -She hath a spirit for a queen to covet, and air and carriage, too.” - -This eloquent harangue left me purple. - -“I grant it all, captain. She has but to choose her title and estate.” - -“Ay, and I have a notion which she'll be choosing.” - -“The knowledge is worth a thousand pounds at the least,” I replied. “I -will lend you the sum, and warrant no lack of takers.” - -“Now the devil fly off with such temperament! And I had half the -encouragement she has given you, I would cast anchor on the spot, and -they might hang and quarter me to move me. But I know you well,” he -exclaimed, his manner changing, “you are making this great sacrifice -on my account. And I will not be a drag on your pleasures, Richard, or -stand in the way of your prospects.” - -“Captain Paul,” I said, sitting down beside him, “have I deserved this -from you? Have I shown a desire to desert you now that my fortunes have -changed? I have said that you shall taste of our cheer at Carvel Hall, -and have looked forward this long while to the time when I shall take -you to my grandfather and say: 'Mr. Carvel, this is he whose courage -and charity have restored you to me, and me to you.' And he will have -changed mightily if you do not have the best in Maryland. Should you -wish to continue on the sea, you shall have the Belle of the Wye, -launched last year. 'Tis time Captain Elliott took to his pension.” - -The captain sighed, and a gleam I did not understand came into his dark -eyes. - -“I would that God had given me your character and your heart, Richard,” - he said, “in place of this striving thing I have within me. But 'tis -written that a leopard cannot change his spots.” - -“The passage shall be booked this day,” I said. - -That morning was an eventful one. Comyn arrived first, dressed in a suit -of mauve French cloth that set off his fine figure to great advantage. -He regarded me keenly as he entered, as if to discover whether I had -changed my mind over night. And I saw he was not in the best of tempers. - -“And when do you sail?” he cried. “I have no doubt you have sent out -already to get passage.” - -“I have been trying to persuade Mr. Carvel to remain in London, my -Lord,” said the captain. “I tell him he is leaving his best interests -behind him.” - -“I fear that for once you have undertaken a task beyond your ability, -Captain Paul,” was the rather tart reply. - -“The captain has a ridiculous idea that he is the cause of my going,” I -said quickly. - -John Paul rose somewhat abruptly, seized his hat and bowed to his -Lordship, and in the face of a rain sallied out, remarking that he had -as yet seen nothing of the city. - -“Jack, you must do me the favour not to talk of this in John Paul's -presence,” I said, when the door had closed. - -“If he doesn't suspect why you are going, he has more stupidity than I -gave him credit for,” Comyn answered gruffly. - -“I fear he does suspect,” I said. - -His Lordship went to the table and began to write, leaving me to the -Chronicle, the pages of which I did not see. Then came Mr. Dix, and -such a change I had never beheld in mortal man. In place of the would-be -squire I had encountered in Threadneedle Street, here was an unctuous -person of business in sober gray; but he still wore the hypocritical -smirk with no joy in it. His bow was now all respectful obedience. Comyn -acknowledged it with a curt nod. - -Mr. Dix began smoothly, where a man of more honesty would have found the -going difficult. - -“Mr. Carvel,” he said, rubbing his hands, “I wish first to express my -profound regrets for what has happened.” - -“Curse your regrets,” said Comyn, bluntly. “You come here on business. -Mr. Carvel does not stand in need of regrets at present.” - -“I was but on the safe side of Mr. Carvel's money, my Lord.” - -“Ay, I'll warrant you are always on the safe side of money,” replied -Comyn, with a laugh. “What I wish to know, Mr. Dix,” he continued, “is -whether you are willing to take my word that this is Mr. Richard Carvel, -the grandson and heir of Lionel Carvel, Esquire, of Carvel Hall in -Maryland?” - -“I am your Lordship's most obedient servant,” said Mr. Dix. - -“Confound you, sir! Can you or can you not answer a simple question?” - -Mr. Dix straightened. He may have spoken elsewhere of asserting his -dignity. - -“I would not presume to doubt your Lordship's word.” - -“Then, if I were to be personally responsible for such sums as Mr. -Carvel may need, I suppose you would be willing to advance them to him.” - -“Willingly, willingly, my Lord,” said Mr. Dix, and added immediately: -“Your Lordship will not object to putting that in writing? Merely a -matter of form, as your Lordship knows, but we men of affairs are held -to a strict accountability.” - -Comyn made a movement of disgust, took up a pen and wrote out the -indorsement. - -“There,” he said. “You men of affairs will at least never die of -starvation.” - -Mr. Dix took the paper with a low bow, began to shower me with -protestations of his fidelity to my grandfather's interests, which -were one day to be my own,--he hoped, with me, not soon,--drew from his -pocket more than sufficient for my immediate wants, said that I should -have more by a trusty messenger, and was going on to clear himself of -his former neglect and indifference, when Banks announced: - -“His honour, Mr. Manners!” - -Comyn and I exchanged glances, and his Lordship gave a low whistle. Nor -was the circumstance without its effect upon Mr. Dix. With my knowledge -of the character of Dorothy's father I might have foreseen this visit, -which came, nevertheless, as a complete surprise. For a moment I -hesitated, and then made a motion to show him up. Comyn voiced my -decision. - -“Why let the little cur stand in the way?” he said; “he counts for -nothing.” - -Mr. Marmaduke was not long in ascending, and tripped into the room as -Mr. Dix backed out of it, as gayly as tho' he had never sent me about -my business in the street. His clothes, of a cherry cut velvet, were as -ever a little beyond the fashion, and he carried something I had never -before seen, then used by the extreme dandies in London,--an umbrella. - -“What! Richard Carvel! Is it possible?” he screamed in his piping voice. -“We mourned you for dead, and here you turn up in London alive and well, -and bigger and stronger than ever. Oons! one need not go to Scripture -for miracles. I shall write my congratulations to Mr. Carvel this day, -sir.” And he pushed his fingers into my waistcoat, so that Comyn and -I were near to laughing in his face. For it was impossible to be angry -with a little coxcomb of such pitiful intelligence. - -“Ah, good morning, my Lord. I see your Lordship has risen early in -the same good cause, I myself am up two hours before my time. You will -pardon the fuss I am making over the lad, Comyn, but his grandfather -is my very dear friend, and Richard was brought up with my daughter -Dorothy. They were like brother and sister. What, Richard, you will not -take my hand! Surely you are not so unreasonable as to hold against -me that unfortunate circumstance in Arlington Street! Yes, Dorothy has -shocked me. She has told me of it.” - -Comyn winked at me as I replied:-- - -“We shan't mention it, Mr. Manners. I have had my three weeks in prison, -and perhaps know the world all the better for them.” - -He held up his umbrella in mock dismay, and stumbled abruptly into a -chair. There he sat looking at me, a whimsical uneasiness on his face. -“We shall indeed mention it, sir. Three weeks in prison, to think of -it! And you would not so much as send me a line. Ah, Richard, pride is a -good thing, but I sometimes think we from Maryland have too much of -it. We shall indeed speak of the matter. Out of justice to me you -must understand how it occurred. You must know that I am deucedly -absentminded, and positively lost without my glass. And I had somebody -with me, so Dorothy said. Chartersea, I believe. And his Grace made me -think you were a cursed beggar. I make a point never to have to do with -'em.” - -“You are right, Mr. Manners,” Comyn cut in dryly; “for I have known them -to be so persistently troublesome, when once encouraged, as to interfere -seriously with our arrangements.” - -“Eh!” Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I -wondered whether the shot had told. To relieve him I inquired after Mrs. -Manners's health. - -“Ah, to be sure,” he replied, beginning to fumble in his skirts; “London -agrees with her remarkably, and she is better than she has been for -years. And she is overjoyed at your most wonderful escape, Richard, as -are we all.” - -And he gave me a note. I concealed my eagerness as I took it and broke -the seal, to discover that it was not from Dorothy, but from Mrs. -Manners herself. - - “My dear Richard” (so it ran), “I thank God with your dear - Grandfather over y'r Deliverance, & you must bring y'r Deliverer, - whom Dorothy describes as Courtly and Gentlemanly despite his - Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him - our Gratitude. I know you are far too Sensible not to come to - Arlington Street. I subscribe myself, Richard, y'r sincere Friend, - - “MARGARET MANNERS.” - -There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped. -But the letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the -affection she had always had for me. I honoured her the more that she -had not attempted to excuse Mr. Manners's conduct. - -“You will come, Richard?” cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at -heartiness. “You must come, and the captain, too. For I hear, with -regret, that you are not to be long with us.” - -I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window -curtains. But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul. -Mr. Manners rose to take his leave. - -“Dorothy will be glad to see you,” he said. “I often think, Richard, -that she tires of these generals and King's ministers, and longs for -a romp at Wilmot House again. Alas,” he sighed, offering us a pinch of -snuff (which he said was the famous Number 37), “alas, she has had a -deal too much of attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen -others would to marry her. I fear she will go soon,” and he sighed -again. “Upon my soul I cannot make her out. I'll lay something handsome, -my Lord, that the madcap adventure with you after Richard sets the -gossips going. One day she is like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for -not taking her mother's advice to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden -House; and the next, egad, she is as difficult to approach as a crowned -head. Well, gentlemen, I give you good day, I have an appointment at -White's. I am happy to see you have fallen in good hands, Richard. My -Lord, your most obedient!” - -“He'll lay something handsome!” said my Lord, when the door had closed -behind him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. ARLINGTON STREET - -The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,--being -ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,--I left him a message and -betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy's house. The -door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered -me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told -me the ladies were not at home. But I had not gone a dozen paces in my -disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour -were Mr. Richard Carvel. - -“The ladies will see your honour,” he said, and conducted me back into -the house and up the wide stairs. I had heard that Arlington Street was -known as the street of the King's ministers, and I surmised that Mr. -Manners had rented this house, and its furniture, from some great man -who had gone out of office, plainly a person of means and taste. The -hall, like that of many of the great town-houses, was in semi-darkness, -but I remarked that the stair railing was of costly iron-work and -polished brass; and, as I went up, that the stone niches in the wall -were filled with the busts of statesmen, and I recognized among these, -that of the great Walpole. A great copper gilt chandelier hung above. -But the picture of the drawing-room I was led into, with all its -colours, remains in the eye of my mind to this day. It was a large room, -the like of which I had never seen in any private residence of the New -World, situated in the back of the house. Its balcony overlooked the -fresh expanse of the Green Park. Upon its high ceiling floated Venus and -the graces, by Zucchi; and the mantel, upon which ticked an antique and -curious French clock, was carved marble. - -On the gilt panels of the walls were wreaths of red roses. At least -a half-dozen tall mirrors, framed in rococos, were placed about, the -largest taking the space between the two high windows on the park side. -And underneath it stood a gold cabinet, lacquered by Martin's inimitable -hand, in the centre of which was set a medallion of porcelain, with -the head in dark blue of his Majesty, Charles the First. The chairs and -lounges were marquetry,--satin-wood and mahogany,--with seats and backs -of blue brocade. The floor was polished to the degree of danger, and -on the walls hung a portrait by Van Dycke, another, of a young girl, by -Richardson, a landscape by the Dutch artist Ruysdael, and a water-colour -by Zaccarelli. - -I had lived for four months the roughest of lives, and the room brought -before me so sharply the contrast between my estate and the grandeur and -elegance in which Dorothy lived, that my spirits fell as I looked about -me. In front of me was a vase of flowers, and beside them on the table -lay a note “To Miss Manners, in Arlington Street,” and sealed with -a ducal crest. I was unconsciously turning it over, when something -impelled me to look around. There, erect in the doorway, stood Dolly, -her eyes so earnestly fixed upon me that I dropped the letter with a -start. A faint colour mounted to her crown of black hair. - -“And so you have come, Richard,” she said. Her voice was low, and tho' -there was no anger in it, the tone seemed that of reproach. I wondered -whether she thought the less of me for coming. - -“Can you blame me for wishing to see you before I leave, Dolly?” I -cried, and crossed quickly over to her. - -But she drew a step backward. - -“Then it is true that you are going,” said she, this time with a plain -note of coldness. - -“I must, Dorothy.” - -“When?” - -“As soon as I can get passage.” - -She passed me and seated herself on the lounge, leaving me to stand like -a lout before her, ashamed of my youth and of the clumsiness of my great -body. - -“Ah, Richard,” she laughed, “confess to your old play mate! I should -like to know how many young men of wealth and family would give up -the pleasures of a London season were there not a strong attraction in -Maryland.” - -How I longed to tell her that I would give ten years of my life to -remain in England: that duty to John Paul took me home. But I was dumb. - -“We should make a macaroni of you to amaze our colony,” said Dolly, -lightly, as I sat down a great distance away; “to accept my schooling -were to double your chances when you return, Richard. You should have -cards to everything, and my Lord Comyn or Mr. Fox or some one would -introduce you at the clubs. I vow you would be a sensation, with your -height and figure. You should meet all the beauties of England, and -perchance,” she added mischievously, “perchance you might be taking one -home with you.” - -“Nay, Dolly,” I answered; “I am not your match in jesting.” - -“Jesting!” she exclaimed, “I was never more sober. But where is your -captain?” - -I said that I hoped that John Paul would be there shortly. - -“How fanciful he is! And his conversation,--one might think he had -acquired the art at Marly or in the Fauxbourg. In truth, he should have -been born on the far side of the Channel. And he has the air of the -great man,” said she, glancing up at ms, covertly. “For my part, I -prefer a little more bluntness.” - -I was nettled at the speech. Dorothy had ever been quick to seize upon -and ridicule the vulnerable oddities of a character, and she had all -the contempt of the great lady for those who tried to scale by pleasing -arts. I perceived with regret that she had taken a prejudice. - -“There, Dorothy,” I cried, “not even you shall talk so of the captain. -For you have seen him at his worst. There are not many, I warrant you, -born like him a poor gardener's son who rise by character and ability -to be a captain at three and twenty. And he will be higher yet. He -has never attended any but a parish school, and still has learning to -astonish Mr. Walpole, learning which he got under vast difficulties. He -is a gentleman, I say, far above many I have known, and he is a man. -If you would know a master, you should see him on his own ship. If you -would know a gentleman, you have been with me in his mother's cottage.” - And, warming as I talked, I told her of that saddest of all homecomings -to the little cabin under Criffel's height. - -Small wonder that I adored Dorothy! - -Would that I could paint her moods, that I might describe the strange -light in her eyes when I had finished, that I might tell how in an -instant she was another woman. She rose impulsively and took a chair at -my side, and said:-- - -“'Tis so I love to hear you speak, Richard, when you uphold the absent. -For I feel it is so you must champion me when I am far away. My dear old -playmate is ever the same, strong to resent, and seeing ever the best in -his friends. Forgive me, Richard, I have been worse than silly. And will -you tell me that story of your adventures which I long to learn?” - -Ay, that I would. I told it her, and she listened silently, save only -now and then a cry of wonder or of sympathy that sounded sweet to my -ears,--just as I had dreamed of her listening when I used to pace the -deck of the brigantine John, at sea. And when at length I had finished, -she sat looking out over the Green Park, as tho' she had forgot my -presence. - -And so Mrs. Manners came in and found us. - -It had ever pleased me to imagine that Dorothy's mother had been in her -youth like Dorothy. She had the same tall figure, grace in its every -motion, and the same eyes of deep blue, and the generous but well-formed -mouth. A man may pity, but cannot conceive the heroism that a woman of -such a mould must have gone through who has been married since early -girlhood to a man like Mr. Manners. Some women would have been driven -quickly to frivolity, and worse, but this one had struggled year after -year to maintain an outward serenity to a critical world, and had -succeeded, tho' success had cost her dear. Each trial had deepened a -line of that face, had done its share to subdue the voice which had once -rung like Dorothy's; and in the depths of her eyes lingered a sadness -indefinable. - -She gazed upon me with that kindness and tenderness I had always -received since the days when, younger and more beautiful than now, she -was the companion of my mother. And the unbidden shadow of a thought -came to me that these two sweet women had had some sadness in -common. Many a summer's day I remembered them sewing together in the -spring-house, talking in subdued voices which were hushed when I came -running in. And lo! the same memory was on Dorothy's mother then, half -expressed as she laid her hands upon my shoulders. - -“Poor Elizabeth!” she said,--not to me, nor yet to Dorothy; “I wish that -she might have lived to see you now. It is Captain Jack again.” - -She sighed, and kissed me. And I felt at last that I had come home after -many wanderings. We sat down, mother and daughter on the sofa with their -fingers locked. She did not speak of Mr. Manners's conduct, or of my -stay in the sponging-house. And for this I was thankful. - -“I have had a letter from Mr. Lloyd, Richard,” she said. - -“And my grandfather?” I faltered, a thickness in my throat. - -“My dear boy,” answered Mrs. Manners, gently, “he thinks you dead. But -you have written him?” she added hurriedly. - -I nodded. “From Dumfries.” - -“He will have the letter soon,” she said cheerfully. “I thank Heaven -I am able to tell you that his health is remarkable under the -circumstances. But he will not quit the house, and sees no one except -your uncle, who is with him constantly.” - -It was what I expected. But the confirmation of it brought me to my feet -in a torrent of indignation, exclaiming: - -“The villain! You tell me he will allow Mr. Carvel to see no one?” - -She started forward, laying her hand on my arm, and Dorothy gave a -little cry. - -“What are you saying, Richard? What are you saying?” - -“Mrs. Manners,” I answered, collecting myself, “I must tell you that -I believe it is Grafton Carvel himself that is responsible for my -abduction. He meant that I should be murdered.” - -Then Dorothy rose, her eyes flashing and her head high. - -“He would have murdered you--you, Richard?” she cried, in such a storm -of anger as I had never seen her. “Oh, he should hang for the thought of -it! I have always suspected Grafton Carvel capable of any crime!” - -“Hush, Dorothy,” said her mother; “it is not seemly for a young girl to -talk so.” - -“Seemly!” said Dorothy. “If I were a man I would bring him to justice, -and it took me a lifetime. Nay, if I were a man and could use a sword--” - -“Dorothy! Dorothy!” interrupted Mrs. Manners. - -Dorothy sat down, the light lingering in her eyes. She had revealed more -of herself in that instant than in all her life before. - -“It is a grave charge, Richard,” said Mrs. Manners, at length. “And your -uncle is a man of the best standing in Annapolis.” - -“You must remember his behaviour before my mother's marriage, Mrs. -Manners.” - -“I do, I do, Richard,” she said sadly. “And I have never trusted him -since. I suppose you are not making your accusation without cause?” - -“I have cause enough,” I answered bitterly. - -“And proof?” she added. She should have been the man in her family. - -I told her how Harvey had overheard the bits of the plot at Carvel Hall -near two years gone; and now that I had begun, I was going through with -Mr. Allen's part in the conspiracy, when Dorothy startled us both by -crying: - -“Oh, there is so much wickedness in the world, I wish I had never been -born!” - -She flung herself from the room in a passion of tears to shock me. As if -in answer to my troubled look, Mrs. Manners said, with a sigh: - -“She has not been at all well, lately, Richard. I fear the gayety -of this place is too much for her. Indeed, I am sorry we ever left -Maryland.” - -I was greatly disturbed, and thought involuntarily of Comyn's words. -Could it be that Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry Chartersea? - -“And has Mr. Lloyd said nothing of my uncle?” I asked after a while. - -“I will not deny that ugly rumours are afloat,” she answered. “Grafton, -as you know, is not liked in Annapolis, especially by the Patriot party. -But there is not the slightest ground for suspicion. The messenger--” - -“Yes?” - -“Your uncle denies all knowledge of. He was taken to be the tool of -the captain of the slaver, and he disappeared so completely that it was -supposed he had escaped to the ship. The story goes that you were seized -for a ransom, and killed in the struggle. Your black ran all the way to -town, crying the news to those he met on the Circle and in West Street, -but by the mercy of God he was stopped by Mr. Swain and some others -before he had reached your grandfather. In ten minutes a score of men -were galloping out of the Town Gate, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Singleton ahead. -They found your horse dead, and the road through the woods all trampled -down, and they spurred after the tracks down to the water's edge. -Singleton recalled a slaver, the crew of which had been brawling at the -Ship tavern a few nights before. But the storm was so thick they could -not see the ship's length out into the river. They started two fast -sloops from the town wharves in chase, and your uncle has been moving -heaven and earth to obtain some clew of you. He has put notices in the -newspapers of Charlestown, Philadelphia, New York, and even Boston, and -offered a thousand pounds reward.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. I MEET A VERY GREAT YOUNG MAN - -The French clock had struck four, and I was beginning to fear that, -despite my note, the captain's pride forbade his coming to Mr. Manners's -house, when in he walked, as tho' 'twere no novelty to have his name -announced. And so straight and handsome was he, his dark eye flashing -with the self-confidence born in the man, that the look of uneasiness I -had detected upon Mrs. Manners's face quickly changed to one of surprise -and pleasure. Of course the good lady had anticipated a sea-captain of -a far different mould. He kissed her hand with a respectful grace, and -then her daughter's, for Dorothy had come back to us, calmer. And I was -filled with joy over his fine appearance. Even Dorothy was struck by -the change the clothes had made in him. Mrs. Manners thanked him very -tactfully for restoring me to them, as she was pleased to put it, to -which John Paul modestly replied that he had done no more than another -would under the same circumstances. And he soon had them both charmed by -his address. - -“Why, Richard,” said Dorothy's mother aside to me, “surely this cannot -be your sea-captain!” - -I nodded merrily. But John Paul's greatest triumph was yet to come. For -presently Mr. Marmaduke arrived from White's, and when he had greeted me -with effusion he levelled his glass at the corner of the room. - -“Ahem!” he exclaimed. “Pray, my dear, whom have you invited to-day?” And -without awaiting her reply, as was frequently his habit, he turned to -me and said: “I had hoped we were to have the pleasure of Captain Paul's -company, Richard. For I must have the chance before you go of clasping -the hand of your benefactor.” - -“You shall have the chance, at least, sir,” I replied, a fiery -exultation in my breast. “Mr. Manners, this is my friend, Captain Paul.” - -The captain stood up and bowed gravely at the little gentleman's blankly -amazed countenance. - -“Ahem,” said he; “dear me, is it possible!” and advanced a step, but -the captain remained immovable. Mr. Marmaduke fumbled for his snuff-box, -failed to find it, halted, and began again, for he never was known -to lack words for long: “Captain, as one of the oldest friends of Mr. -Lionel Carvel, I claim the right to thank you in his name for your -gallant conduct. I hear that you are soon to see him, and to receive his -obligations from him in person. You will not find him lacking, sir, I'll -warrant.” - -Such was Mr. Marmaduke's feline ingenuity! I had a retort ready, and I -saw that Mrs. Manners, long tried in such occasions, was about to pour -oil on the waters. But it was Dorothy who exclaimed: - -“What captain! are you, too, going to Maryland?” - -John Paul reddened. - -“Ay, that he is, Dolly,” I cut in hurriedly. “Did you imagine I would -let him escape so easily? Henceforth as he has said, he is to be an -American.” - -She flashed at me such a look as might have had a dozen different -meanings, and in a trice it was gone again under her dark lashes. - -Dinner was got through I know not how. Mr. Manners led the talk, and -spoke more than was needful concerning our approaching voyage. He was at -great pains to recommend the Virginia packet, which had made the fastest -passage from the Capes; and she sailed, as was no doubt most convenient, -the Saturday following. I should find her a comfortable vessel, and he -would oblige me with a letter to Captain Alsop. Did Captain Paul know -him? But the captain was describing West Indian life to Mrs. Manners. -Dorothy had little to say; and as for me, I was in no very pleasant -humour. - -I gave a deaf ear to Mr. Marmaduke's sallies, to speculate on the nature -of the disgrace which Chartersea was said to hold over his head. And -twenty times, as I looked upon Dolly's beauty, I ground my teeth at -the notion of returning home. I have ever been slow of suspicion, but -suddenly it struck me sharply that Mr. Manners's tactics must have a -deeper significance than I had thought. Why was it that he feared my -presence in London? - -As we made our way back to the drawing-room, I was hoping for a talk -with Dolly (alas! I should not have many more), when I heard a voice -which sounded strangely familiar. - -“You know, Comyn,” it was saying, “you know I should be at the -Princess's were I not so completely worn out. I was up near all of last -night with Rosette.” - -Mr. Marmaduke, entering before us, cried:-- - -“The dear creature! I trust you have had medical attendance, Mr. -Walpole.” - -“Egad!” quoth Horry (for it was he), “I sent Favre to Hampstead to fetch -Dr. Pratt, where he was attending some mercer's wife. It seems that -Rosette had got into the street and eaten something horrible out of the -kennel. I discharged the footman, of course.” - -“A plague on your dog, Horry,” said my Lord, yawning, and was about to -add something worse, when he caught sight of Dorothy. - -Mr. Walpole bowed over her hand. - -“And have you forgotten so soon your Windsor acquaintances, Mr. -Walpole?” she asked, laughing. - -“Bless me,” said Horry, looking very hard at me, “so it is, so it -is. Your hand, Mr. Carvel. You have only to remain in London, sir, to -discover that your reputation is ready-made. I contributed my mite. For -you must know that I am a sort of circulating library of odd news which -those devils, the printers, contrive to get sooner or later--Heaven -knows how! And Miss Manners herself has completed your fame. Yes, the -story of your gallant rescue is in all the clubs to-day. Egad, sir, you -come down heads up, like a loaded coin. You will soon be a factor in -Change Alley.” And glancing slyly at the blushing Dolly, he continued: - -“I have been many things, Miss Manners, but never before an instrument -of Providence. And so you discovered your rough diamond yesterday, and -have polished him in a day. O that Dr. Franklin had profited as well -by our London tailors! The rogue never told me, when he was ordering me -about in his swan-skin, that he had a friend in Arlington Street, and a -reigning beauty. But I like him the better for it.” - -“And I the worse,” said Dolly. - -“I perceive that he still retains his body-guard,” said Mr. Walpole; -“Captain--” - -“Paul,” said Dolly, seeing that we would not help him out. - -“Ah, yes. These young princes from the New World must have their suites. -You must bring them both some day to my little castle at Strawberry -Hill.” - -“Unfortunately, Mr. Walpole, Mr. Carvel finds that he must return to -America,” Mr. Marmaduke interjected. He had been waiting to get in this -word. - -Comyn nudged me. And I took the opportunity, in the awkward silence that -followed, to thank Mr. Walpole for sending his coach after us. - -“And pray where did you get your learning?” he demanded abruptly of the -captain, in his most patronizing way. “Your talents are wasted at sea, -sir. You should try your fortune in London, where you shall be under -my protection, sir. They shall not accuse me again of stifling young -genius. Stay,” he cried, warming with generous enthusiasm, “stay, I have -an opening. 'Twas but yesterday Lady Cretherton told me that she -stood in need of a tutor for her youngest son, and you shall have the -position.” - -“Pardon me, sir, but I shall not have the position,” said John Paul, -coolly. And Horry might have heeded the danger signal. I had seen it -more than once on board the brigantine John, and knew what was coming. - -“Faith, and why not, sir? If I recommend you, why not, sir?” - -“Because I shall not take it,” he said. “I have my profession, Mr. -Walpole, and it is an honourable one. And I would not exchange it, sir, -were it in your power to make me a Gibbon or a Hume, or tutor to his -Royal Highness, which it is not.” - -Thus, for the second time, the weapon of the renowned master of -Strawberry was knocked from his hand at a single stroke of his -strange adversary. I should like to describe John Paul as he made that -speech,--for 'twas not so much the speech as the atmosphere of it. Those -who heard and saw were stirred with wonder, for Destiny lay bare that -instant, just as the powers above are sometimes revealed at a single -lightning-bolt. Mr. Walpole made a reply that strove hard to be -indifferent; Mr. Marmaduke stuttered, for he was frightened, as little -souls are apt to be at such times. But my Lord Comyn, forever natural, -forever generous, cried out heartily:-- - -“Egad, captain, there you are a true sailor! Which would you rather have -been, I say, William Shakespeare or Sir Francis?” - -“Which would you rather be, Richard,” said Dolly to me, under her -breath, “Horace Walpole or Captain John Paul? I begin to like your -captain better.” - -Willy nilly, Mr. Walpole was forever doing me a service. Now, in order -to ignore the captain more completely, he sat him down to engage Mr. -and Mrs. Manners. Comyn was soon hot in an argument with John Paul -concerning the seagoing qualities of a certain frigate, every rope and -spar of which they seemed to know. And so I stole a few moments with -Dorothy. - -“You are going to take the captain to Maryland, Richard?” she asked, -playing with her fan. - -“I intend to get him the Belle of the Tye. 'Tis the least I can do. For -I am at my wits' end how to reward him, Dolly. And when are you coming -back?” I whispered earnestly, seeing her silent. - -“I would that I knew, Richard,” she replied, with a certain sadness that -went to my heart, as tho' the choice lay beyond her. Then she changed. -“Richard, there was more in Mr. Lloyd's letter than mamma told you of. -There was ill news of one of your friends.” - -“News!” - -She looked at me fixedly, and then continued, her voice so low that I -was forced to bend over: - -“Yes. You were not told that Patty Swain fell in a faint when she heard -of your disappearance. You were not told that the girl was ill for a -week afterwards. Ah, Richard, I fear you are a sad flirt. Nay, you may -benefit by the doubt,--perchance you are going home to be married.” - -You may be sure that this intelligence, from Dorothy's lips, only -increased my trouble and perplexity. - -“You say that Patty has been ill?” - -“Very ill,” says she, with her lips tight closed. - -“Indeed, I grieve to hear of it,” I replied; “but I cannot think that my -accident had anything to do with the matter.” - -“Young ladies do not send their fathers to coffee-houses to prevent -duels unless their feelings are engaged,” she flung back. - -“You have heard the story of that affair, Dorothy. At least enough of it -to do me justice.” - -She was plainly agitated. - -“Has Lord Comyn--” - -“Lord Comyn has told you the truth,” I said; “so much I know.” - -Alas for the exits and entrances of life! Here comes the footman. - -“Mr. Fox,” said he, rolling the name, for it was a great one. - -Confound Mr. Fox! He might have waited five short minutes. - -It was, in truth, none other than that precocious marvel of England who -but a year before had taken the breath from the House of Commons, and -had sent his fame flying over the Channel and across the wide Atlantic; -the talk of London, who set the fashions, cringed not before white -hairs, or royalty, or customs, or institutions, and was now, at one and -twenty, Junior Lord of the Admiralty--Charles James Fox. His face was -dark, forbidding, even harsh--until he smiled. His eyebrows were heavy -and shaggy, and his features of a rounded, almost Jewish mould. He put -me in mind of the Stuarts, and I was soon to learn that he was descended -from them. - -As he entered the room I recall remarking that he was possessed of the -supremest confidence of any man I had ever met. Mrs. Manners he greeted -in one way, Mr. Marmaduke in another, and Mr. Walpole in still another. -To Comyn it was “Hello, Jack,” as he walked by him. Each, as it were, -had been tagged with a particular value. - -Chagrined as I was at the interruption, I was struck with admiration. -For the smallest actions of these rare men of master passions so compel -us. He came to Dorothy, whom he seemed not to have perceived at first, -and there passed between them such a look of complete understanding that -I suddenly remembered Comyn's speech of the night before, “Now it is -Charles Fox.” Here, indeed, was the man who might have won her. And yet -I did not hate him. Nay, I loved him from the first time he addressed -me. It was Dorothy who introduced us. - -“I think I have heard of you, Mr. Carvel,” he said, making a barely -perceptible wink at Comyn. - -“And I think I have heard of you, Mr. Fox,” I replied. - -“The deuce you have, Mr. Carvel!” said he, and laughed. And Comyn -laughed, and Dorothy laughed, and I laughed. We were friends from that -moment. - -“Richard has appeared amongst us like a comet,” put in the ubiquitous -Mr. Manners, “and, I fear, intends to disappear in like manner.” - -“And where is the tail of this comet?” demanded Fox, instantly; “for I -understood there was a tail.” - -John Paul was brought up, and the Junior Lord of the Admiralty looked -him over from head to toe. And what, my dears, do you think he said to -him? - -“Have you ever acted, Captain Paul?” - -The captain started back in surprise. - -“Acted!” he exclaimed; “really, sir, I do not know. I have never been -upon the boards.” - -Mr. Fox vowed that he could act: that he was sure of it, from the -captain's appearance. - -“And I, too, am sure of it, Mr. Fox,” cried Dorothy; clapping her hands. -“Persuade him to stay awhile in London, that you may have him at your -next theatricals at Holland House. Why, he knows Shakespeare and Pope -and--and Chaucer by heart, and Ovid and Horace,--is it not so, Mr. -Walpole?” - -“Is not what so, my dear young lady?” asked Mr. Walpole, pretending not -to have heard. - -“There!” exclaimed Dolly, pouting, when the laughter had subsided; “you -make believe to care something about me, and yet will not listen to what -I say.” - -I had seen at her feet our own Maryland gallants, the longest of whose -reputations stretched barely from the James to the Schuylkill; but here -in London men were hanging on her words whose names were familiarly -spoken in Paris, and Rome, and Geneva. Not a topic was broached by Mr. -Walpole or Mr. Fox, from the remonstrance of the Archbishop against -masquerades and the coming marriage of my Lord Albemarle to the rights -and wrongs of Mr. Wilkes, but my lady had her say. Mrs. Manners seemed -more than content that she should play the hostess, which she did -to perfection. She contrived to throw poisoned darts at the owner of -Strawberry that started little Mr. Marmaduke to fidgeting in his seat, -and he came to the rescue with all the town-talk at his command. He knew -little else. Could Mr. Walpole tell him of this club of both sexes just -started at Almack's? Mr. Walpole could tell a deal, tho' he took the -pains first to explain that he was becoming too old for such frivolous -and fashionable society. He could not, for the life of him, say why he -was included. But, in spite of Mr. Walpole, John Paul was led out in the -paces that best suited him, and finally, to the undisguised delight -of Mr. Fox, managed to trip Horry upon an obscure point in Athenian -literature. And this broke up the company. - -As we took our leave Dorothy and Mr. Fox were talking together with -lowered voices. - -“I shall see you before I go,” I said to her. - -She laughed, and glanced at Mr. Fox. - -“You are not going, Richard Carvel,” said she. - -“That you are not, Richard Carvel,” said Mr. Fox. - -I smiled, rather lamely, I fear, and said good night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. A CONSPIRACY - -“Banks, where is the captain?” I asked, as I entered the parlour the -next morning. - -“Gone, sir, since seven o'clock,” was the reply. “Gone!” I exclaimed; -“gone where?” - -“Faith, I did not ask his honour, sir.” - -I thought it strange, but reflected that John Paul was given to whims. -Having so little time before him, he had probably gone to see the sights -he had missed yesterday: the Pantheon, which was building, an account -of which had appeared in all the colonial papers; or the new Blackfriars -Bridge; or the Tower; or perhaps to see his Majesty ride out. The -wonders of London might go hang, for all I cared. Who would gaze at the -King when he might look upon Dorothy! I sighed. I bade Banks dress me in -the new suit Davenport had brought that morning, and then sent him off -to seek the shipping agent of the Virginia packet to get us a cabin. I -would go to Arlington Street as soon as propriety admitted. - -But I had scarce finished my chocolate and begun to smoke in a pleasant -revery, when I was startled by the arrival of two gentlemen. One was -Comyn, and the other none less than Mr. Charles Fox. - -“Now where the devil has your captain flown to?” said my Lord, tossing -his whip on the table. - -“I believe he must be sight-seeing,” I said. “I dare swear he has taken -a hackney coach to the Tower.” - -“To see the liberation of the idol of the people, I'll lay ten guineas. -But they say the great Mr. Wilkes is to come out quietly, and wishes no -demonstration,” said Mr. Fox. “I believe the beggar has some sense, -if the--Greek--would only let him have his way. So your captain is a -Wilkite, Mr. Carvel?” he demanded. - -“I fear you run very fast to conclusions, Mr. Fox,” I answered, -laughing, tho' I thought his guess was not far from wrong. - -“I'll lay you the ten guineas he has been to the Tower,” said Mr. Fox, -promptly. - -“Done, sir,” said I. - -“Hark ye, Richard,” said Comyn, stretching himself in an arm-chair; “we -are come to take the wind out of your sails, and leave you without an -excuse for going home. And we want your captain, alive or dead. Charles, -here, is to give him a commission in his Majesty's Navy.” - -Then I knew why Dorothy had laughed when I had spoken of seeing her -again. Comyn--bless him!--had told her of his little scheme. - -“Egad, Charles!” cried his Lordship, “to look at his glum face, one -might think we were a couple of Jews who had cornered him.” - -Alas for the perversity of the heart! Instead of leaping for joy, as -no doubt they had both confidently expected, I was both troubled and -perplexed by this unlooked-for news. Oak, when bent, is even harder -to bend back again. And so it has ever been with me. I had determined, -after a bitter struggle, to go to Maryland, and had now become used -to that prospect. I was anxious to see my grandfather, and to confront -Grafton Carvel with his villany. And there was John Paul. What would he -think? - -“What ails you, Richard?” Comyn demanded somewhat testily. - -“Nothing, Jack,” I replied. “I thank you from my heart, and you, Mr. -Fox. I know that commissions are not to be had for the asking, and I -rejoice with the captain over his good fortune. But, gentlemen,” I -said soberly, “I had most selfishly hoped that I might be able to do -a service to John Paul in return for his charity to me. You offer him -something nearer his deserts, something beyond my power to give him.” - -Fox's eyes kindled. - -“You speak like a man, Mr. Carvel,” said he. “But you are too modest. -Damn it, sir, don't you see that it is you, and no one else, who has -procured this commission? Had I not been taken with you, sir, I should -scarce have promised it to your friend Comyn, through whose interest you -obtain it for your protege.” - -I remembered what Mr. Fox's enemies said of him, and smiled at the -plausible twist he had given the facts. - -“No,” I said; “no, Mr. Fox; never that. The captain must not think that -I wish to be rid of him. I will not stand in the way, though if it is -to be offered him, he must comprehend that I had naught to do with the -matter. But, sir,” I continued curiously, “what do you know of John -Paul's abilities as an officer?” - -Mr. Fox and Comyn laughed so immoderately as to bring the blood to my -face. - -“Damme!” cried the Junior Lord, “but you Americans have odd consciences! -Do you suppose Rigby was appointed Paymaster of the Forces because -of his fitness? Why was North himself made Prime Minister? For his -abilities?” And he broke down again. “Ask Jack, here, how he got into -the service, and how much seamanship he knows.” - -“Faith,” answered Jack, unblushingly, “Admiral Lord Comyn, my father, -wished me to serve awhile. And so I have taken two cruises, delivered -some score of commands, and scarce know a supple jack from a can of -flip. Cursed if I see the fun of it in these piping times o' peace, so I -have given it up, Richard. For Charles says this Falkland business with -Spain will blow out of the touch-hole.” - -I could see little to laugh over. For the very rottenness of the service -was due to the miserable and servile Ministry and Parliament of his -Majesty, by means of which instruments he was forcing the colonies to -the wall. Verily, that was a time when the greatness of England hung -in the balance! How little I suspected that the young man then seated -beside me, who had cast so unthinkingly his mighty powers on the side of -corruption, was to be one of the chief instruments of her salvation! We -were to fight George the Third across the seas. He was to wage no less -courageous a battle at home, in the King's own capital. And the cause? -Yes, the cause was to be the same as that of the Mr. Wilkes he reviled, -who obtained his liberty that day. - -At length John Paul came in, calling my name. He broke off abruptly at -sight of the visitors. - -“Now we shall decide,” said Mr. Fox. “Captain, I have bet Mr. Carvel ten -guineas you have been to the Tower to see Squinting Jack (John Wilkes) -get his liberty at last.” - -The captain looked astonished. - -“Anan, then, you have lost, Richard,” said he. “For I have been just -there.” - -“And helped, no doubt, to carry off the champion on your shoulders,” - said Mr. Fox, sarcastically, as I paid the debt. - -“Mr. Wilkes knows full well the value of moderation, sir,” replied the -captain, in the same tone. - -“Well, damn the odds!” exclaimed the Junior Lord, laughing. “You may -have the magic number tattooed all over your back, for all I care. You -shall have the commission.” - -“The commission?” - -“Yes,” said Fox, carelessly; “I intend making you a lieutenant, sir, in -the Royal Navy.” - -The moment the words were out I was a-tremble as to how he would take -the offer. For he had a certain puzzling pride, which flew hither and -thither. But there was surely no comparison between the situations of -the master of the Belle of the Wye and an officer in the Royal Navy. -There, his talents would make him an admiral, and doubtless give him the -social position he secretly coveted. He confounded us all by his answer. - -“I thank you, Mr. Fox. But I cannot accept your kindness.” - -“Slife!” said Fox, “you refuse? And you know what you are doing?” - -“I know usually, sir.” - -Comyn swore. My exclamation had something of relief in it. - -“Captain,” I said, “I felt that I could not stand in the way of this. -It has been my hope that you will come with me, and I have sent this -morning after a cabin on the Virginia. You must know that Mr. Fox's -offer is his own, and Lord Comyn's.” - -“I know it well, Richard. I have not lived these three months with you -for nothing.” His voice seemed to fail him. He drew near me and took my -hand. “But did you think I would require of you the sacrifice of leaving -London now?” - -“It is my pleasure as well as my duty, captain.” - -“No,” he said, “I am not like that. Yesterday I went to the city to see -a shipowner whose acquaintance I made when he was a master in the West -India trade. He has had some reason to know that I can handle a ship. -Never mind what. And he has given me the bark 'Betsy', whose former -master is lately dead of the small-pox. Richard, I sail to-morrow.” - - -In Dorothy's coach to Whitehall Stairs, by the grim old palace out of -whose window Charles the Martyr had walked to his death. For Dorothy had -vowed it was her pleasure to see John Paul off, and who could stand -in her way? Surely not Mr. Marmaduke! and Mrs. Manners laughingly -acquiesced. Our spirits were such that we might have been some honest -mercer's apprentice and his sweetheart away for an outing. - -“If we should take a wherry, Richard,” said Dolly, “who would know of -it? I have longed to be in a wherry ever since I came to London.” - -The river was smiling as she tripped gayly down to the water, and the -red-coated watermen were smiling, too, and nudging one another. But -little cared we! Dolly in holiday humour stopped for naught. “Boat, your -honour! Boat, boat! To Rotherhithe--Redriff? Two and six apiece, sir.” - For that intricate puzzle called human nature was solved out of hand by -the Thames watermen. Here was a young gentleman who never heard of the -Lord Mayor's scale of charges. And what was a shilling to such as he! -Intricate puzzle, indeed! Any booby might have read upon the young man's -face that secret which is written for all,--high and low, rich and poor -alike. - -My new lace handkerchief was down upon the seat, lest Dolly soil her -bright pink lutestring. She should have worn nothing else but the hue of -roses. How the bargemen stared, and the passengers craned their necks, -and the longshoremen stopped their work as we shot past them! On her -account a barrister on the Temple Stairs was near to letting fall -his bag in the water. A lady in a wherry! Where were the whims of the -quality to lead them next? Past the tall water-tower and York Stairs, -the idlers under the straight row of trees leaning over the high river -wall; past Adelphi Terrace, where the great Garrick lived; past the -white columns of Somerset House, with its courts and fountains and -alleys and architecture of all ages, and its river gate where many a -gilded royal barge had lain, and many a fine ambassador had arrived in -state over the great highway of England; past the ancient trees in the -Temple Gardens. And then under the new Blackfriars Bridge to Southwark, -dingy with its docks and breweries and huddled houses, but forever -famous,--the Southwark of Shakespeare and Jonson and Beaumont and -Fletcher. And the shelf upon which they stood in the library at Carvel -Hall was before my eyes. - -“Yes,” said Dolly; “and I recall your mother's name written in faded ink -upon the fly-leaves.” - -Ah, London Town, by what subtleties are you tied to the hearts of those -born across the sea? That is one of the mysteries of race. - -Under the pointed arches of old London Bridge, with its hooded shelters -for the weary, to where the massive Tower had frowned for ages upon the -foolish river. And then the forest of ships, and the officious throng of -little wherries and lighters that pressed around them, seeming to say, -“You clumsy giants, how helpless would you be without us!” Soon our own -wherry was dodging among them, ships brought hither by the four winds -of the seas; many discharging in the stream, some in the docks then -beginning to be built, and hugging the huge warehouses. Hides from -frozen Russia were piled high beside barrels of sugar and rum from the -moist island cane-fields of the Indies, and pipes of wine from the sunny -hillsides of France, and big boxes of tea bearing the hall-mark of the -mysterious East. Dolly gazed in wonder. And I was commanded to show her -a schooner like the Black Moll, and a brigantine like the John. - -“And Captain Paul told me you climbed the masts, Richard, and worked -like a common seaman. Tell me,” says she, pointing at the royal yard of -a tall East Indiaman, “did you go as high as that when it was rough?” - -And, hugely to the boatman's delight, the minx must needs put her -fingers on the hard welts on my hands, and vow she would be a sailor -and she were a man. But at length we came to a trim-built bark lying off -Redriff Stairs, with the words “Betsy, of London,” painted across her -stern. In no time at all, Captain Paul was down the gangway ladder and -at the water-side, too hand Dorothy out. - -“This honour overwhelms me, Miss Manners,” he said; “but I know whom to -thank for it.” And he glanced slyly at me. - -Dorothy stepped aboard with the air of Queen Elizabeth come to inspect -Lord Howard's flagship. - -“Then you will thank me,” said she. “Why, I could eat my dinner off your -deck, captain! Are all merchantmen so clean?” - -John Paul smiled. - -“Not all, Miss Manners,” he said. - -“And you are still sailing at the ebb?” I asked. - -“In an hour, Richard, if the wind holds good.” - -With what pride he showed us over his ship, the sailors gaping at the -fine young lady. It had taken him just a day to institute his navy -discipline. And Dolly went about exclaiming, and asking an hundred -questions, and merrily catechising me upon the run of the ropes. All was -order and readiness for dropping down the stream when he led us into -his cabin, where he had a bottle of wine and some refreshments laid out -against my coming. - -“Had I presumed to anticipate your visit, Miss Manners, I should have -had something more suitable for a lady,” he said. “What, you will not -eat, either, Richard?” - -I could not, so downcast had I become at the thought of parting. I -had sat up half the night before with him in restless argument and -indecision, and even when he had left for Rotherhithe, early that -morning, my mind had not been made. My conscience had insisted that I -should sail with John Paul; that I might never see my deaf grandfather -on earth again. I had gone to Arlington Street that morning resolved to -say farewell to Dorothy. I will not recount the history of that defeat, -my dears. Nay, to this day I know not how she accomplished the matter. -Not once had she asked me to remain, or referred to my going. Nor had -I spoken of it, weakling that I was. She had come down in the pink -lutestring, smiling but pale; and traces of tears in her eyes, I -thought. From that moment I knew that I was defeated. It was she herself -who had proposed going with me to see the Betsy sail. - -“I will drink some Madeira to wish you Godspeed, captain,” I said. - -“What is the matter with you, Richard?” Dolly cried; “you are as sour -as my Lord Sandwich after a bad Newmarket. Why, captain,” said she, “I -really believe he wants to go, too. The swain pines for his provincial -beauty.” - -Poor John Paul! He had not yet learned that good society is seldom -literal. - -“Upon my soul, Miss Manners, there you do him wrong,” he retorted, with -ludicrous heat; “you, above all, should know for whom he pines.” - -“He has misled you by praising me. This Richard, despite his frank -exterior, is most secretive.” - -“There you have hit him, Miss Manners,” he declared; “there you have hit -him! We were together night and day, on the sea and on the road, and, -while I poured out my life to him, the rogue never once let fall a hint -of the divine Miss Dorothy. 'Twas not till I got to London that I knew -of her existence, and then only by a chance. You astonish me. You speak -of a young lady in Maryland?” - -Dorothy swept aside my protest. - -“Captain,” says she, gravely, “I leave you to judge. What is your -inference, when he fights a duel about a Miss with my Lord Comyn?” - -“A duel!” cried the captain, astounded. - -“Miss Manners persists in her view of the affair, despite my word to the -contrary,” I put in rather coldly. - -“But a duel!” cried the captain again; “and with Lord Comyn! Miss -Manners, I fondly thought I had discovered a constant man, but you make -me fear he has had as many flames as I. And yet, Richard,” he added -meaningly, “I should think shame on my conduct and I had had such a -subject for constancy as you.” - -Dorothy's armour was pierced, and my ill-humour broken down, by this -characteristic speech. We both laughed, greatly to his discomfiture. - -“You had best go home with him, Richard,” said Dolly. “I can find my way -back to Arlington Street alone.” - -“Nay; gallantry forbids his going with me now,” answered John Paul; “and -I have my sailing orders. But had I known of this, I should never have -wasted my breath in persuading him to remain.” - -“And did he stand in need of much persuasion, captain?” asked Dolly, -archly. - -Time was pressing, and the owner came aboard, puffing,--a round-faced, -vociferous, jolly merchant, who had no sooner got his breath than he -lost it again upon catching sight of Dolly. - -While the captain was giving the mate his final orders, Mr. Orchardson, -for such was his name, regaled us with a part of his life's history. He -had been a master himself, and mangled and clipped King George's English -as only a true master might. - -“I like your own captain better than ever, Richard,” whispered Dolly, -while Mr. Orchardson relieved himself of his quid over the other side; -“how commanding he is! Were I to take passage in the Betsy, I know I -should be in love with him long before we got to Norfolk.” - -I took it upon myself to tell Mr. Orchardson, briefly and clearly as I -could, the lamentable story of John Paul's last cruise. For I feared it -might sooner or later reach his ears from prejudiced mouths. And I ended -by relating how the captain had refused a commission in the navy because -he had promised to take the Betsy. This appeared vastly to impress him, -and he forgot Dorothy's presence. - -“Passion o' my 'eart, Mr. Carvel,” cried he, excitedly, - -“John Paul's too big a man, an' too good a seaman, to go into the navy -without hinflooence. If flag horfocers I roots of is booted haside to -rankle like a lump o' salt butter in a gallipot, 'ow will a poor Scotch -lieutenant win hadvancement an' he be not o' the King's friends? 'Wilkes -an' Liberty,' say I; 'forever,' say I. An' w'en I see 'im goin' to the -Tower to be'old the Champion, 'Captain Paul,' says I, 'yere a man arfter -my hown 'eart.' My heye, sir, didn't I see 'im, w'n a mere lad, take the -John into Kingston 'arbour in the face o' the worst gale I hever seed -blowed in the Caribbees? An' I says, 'Bill Horchardson, an' ye Never -'ave ships o' yere own, w'ich I 'ope will be, y'ell know were to look -for a marster.' An' I tells 'im that same, Mr. Carvel. I means no -disrespect to the dead, sir, but an' John Paul 'ad discharged the Betsy, -I'd not 'a' been out twenty barrels or more this day by Thames mudlarks -an' scuffle hunters. 'Eave me flat, if 'e'll be two blocks wi' liquor -an' dischargin' cargo. An' ye may rest heasy, Mr. Carvel, I'll not do -wrong by 'im, neither.” - -He told me that if I would honour him in Maid Lane, Southwark, I should -have as many pounds as I liked of the best tobacco ever cured in Cuba. -And so he left me to see that the mate had signed all his lighter bills, -shouting to the captain not to forget his cockets at Gravesend. Dolly -and I stood silent while the men hove short, singing a jolly song to -the step. With a friendly wave the round figure of Mr. Orchardson -disappeared over the side, and I knew that the time had come to say -farewell. I fumbled in my waistcoat for the repeater I had bought that -morning over against Temple Bar, in Fleet Street, and I thrust it into -John Paul's hand as he came up. - -“Take this in remembrance of what you have suffered so unselfishly for -my sake, Captain Paul,” I said, my voice breaking. “And whatever befalls -you, do not forget that Carvel Hall is your home as well as mine.” - -He seemed as greatly affected as was I. Tears forced themselves to his -eyes as he held the watch, which he opened absently to read the simple -inscription I had put there. - -“Oh, Dickie lad!” he cried, “I'll be missing ye sair three hours -hence, and thinking of ye for months to come in the night watches. But -something tells me I'll see ye again.” - -And he took me in his arms, embracing me with such fervour that there -was no doubting the sincerity of his feelings. - -“Miss Dorothy,” said he, when he was calmer, “I give ye Richard for a -leal and a true heart. Few men are born with the gift of keeping the -affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest. But have no -fear of Richard Carvel.” - -Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of -the deepening skies at twilight. - -“Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain,” she said gently. Then, with a -quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch -at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: “In token of my gratitude for -bringing him back to us.” - -John Paul raised it to his lips. - -“I shall treasure it, Miss Manners, as a memento of the greatest joy of -my life. And that has been,” gracefully taking her hand and mine, “the -bringing you two together again.” - -Dorothy grew scarlet as she curtseyed. As for me, I could speak never a -word. He stepped over the side to hand her into the wherry, and embraced -me once again. And as we rowed away he waved his hat in a last good-by -from the taffrail. Then the Betsy floated down the Thames. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. “UPSTAIRS INTO THE WORLD” - -It will be difficult, my dears, without bulging this history out of all -proportion, to give you a just notion of the society into which I fell -after John Paul left London. It was, above all, a gaming society. -From that prying and all-powerful God of Chance none, great or small, -escaped. Guineas were staked and won upon frugal King George and his -beef and barley-water; Charles Fox and his debts; the intrigues of -Choiseul and the Du Barry and the sensational marriage of the Due -d'Orleans with Madame de Montesson (for your macaroni knew his Paris -as well as his London); Lord March and his opera singer; and even -the doings of Betty, the apple-woman of St. James's Street, and the -beautiful barmaid of Nando's in whom my Lord Thurlow was said to be -interested. All these, and much more not to be repeated, were duly set -down in the betting-books at White's and Brooks's. - -Then the luxury of the life was something to startle a provincial, even -tho' he came, as did I, from one of the two most luxurious colonies -of the thirteen. Annapolis might be said to be London on a small -scale,--but on a very small scale. The historian of the future need look -no farther than our houses (if any remain), to be satisfied that we had -more than the necessities of existence. The Maryland aristocrat with his -town place and his country place was indeed a parallel of the patrician -at home. He wore his English clothes, drove and rode his English horses, -and his coaches were built in Long Acre. His heavy silver service came -from Fleet Street, and his claret and Champagne and Lisbon and Madeira -were the best that could be bought or smuggled. His sons were often -educated at home, at Eton or Westminster and Oxford or Cambridge. -So would I have been if circumstances had permitted. So was James -Fotheringay, the eldest of the family, and later the Dulany boys, and -half a dozen others I might mention. And then our ladies! 'Tis but -necessary to cite my Aunt Caroline as an extreme dame of fashion, who -had her French hairdresser, Piton. - -As was my aunt to the Duchess of Kingston, so was Annapolis to London. -To depict the life of Mayfair and of St. James's Street during a season -about the year of grace 1770 demands a mightier pen than wields the -writer of these simple memoirs. - -And who was responsible for all this luxury and laxity? Who but the -great Mr. Pitt, then the Earl of Chatham, whose wise policy had made -Britain the ruler of the world, and rich beyond compare. From all -corners of the earth her wealth poured in upon her. Nabob and Caribbee -came from East and West to spend their money in the capital. And -fortunes near as great were acquired by the City merchants themselves. -One by one these were admitted within that charmed circle, whose motto -for ages had been “No Trade,” to leaven it with their gold. And to keep -the pace,--nay, to set it, the nobility and landed gentry were sore -pressed. As far back as good Queen Anne, and farther, their ancestors -had gamed and tippled away the acres; and now that John and William, -whose forebears had been good tenants for centuries, were setting their -faces to Liverpool and Birmingham and Leeds, their cottages were empty. -So Lord and Squire went to London to recuperate, and to get their share -of the game running. St. James's Street and St. Stephen's became their -preserves. My Lord wormed himself into a berth in the Treasury, robbed -the country systematically for a dozen of years, and sold the places -and reversions under him to the highest bidder. Boroughs were to be -had somewhat dearer than a pair of colours. And my Lord spent his -spare time--he had plenty of it--in fleecing the pigeons at White's -and Almack's. Here there was no honour, even amongst thieves. And young -gentlemen were hurried through Eton and Oxford, where they learned -to drink and swear and to call a main as well as to play tennis and -billiards and to write Latin, and were thrust into Brooks's before -they knew the difference in value between a farthing and a banknote: at -nineteen they were hardened rake, or accomplished men of the world, or -both. Dissipated noblemen of middle age like March and Sandwich, wits -and beaus and fine gentlemen like Selwyn and Chesterfield and Walpole, -were familiarly called by their first names by youngsters like Fox and -Carlisle and Comyn. Difference of age was no difference. Young Lord -Carlisle was the intimate of Mr. Selwyn, born thirty years before him. - -And whilst I am speaking of intimacies, that short one which sprang -up between me and the renowned Charles Fox has always seemed the most -unaccountable: not on my part, for I fell a victim to him at once. Pen -and paper, brush and canvas, are wholly inadequate to describe the -charm of the man. When he desired to please, his conversation and the -expression of his face must have moved a temperament of stone itself. -None ever had more devoted friends or more ardent admirers. They saw his -faults, which he laid bare before them, but they settled his debts again -and again, vast sums which he lost at Newmarket and at Brooks's. And not -many years after the time of which I now write Lord Carlisle was paying -fifteen hundred a year on the sum he had loaned him, cheerfully denying -himself the pleasures of London as a consequence. - -It was Mr. Fox who discovered for me my lodgings in Dover Street, vowing -that I could not be so out of fashion as to live at an inn. The brief -history of these rooms, as given by him, was this: “A young cub had -owned them, whose mamma had come up from Berkshire on Thursday, beat him -soundly on Friday, paid his debts on Saturday, and had taken him back -on Sunday to hunt with Sir Henry the rest of his life.” Dorothy came one -day with her mother and swept through my apartments, commanded all the -furniture to be moved about, ordered me to get pictures for the walls, -and by one fell decree abolished all the ornaments before the landlady, -used as she was to the ways of quality, had time to gasp. - -“Why, Richard,” says my lady, “you will be wanting no end of pretty -things to take back to Maryland when you go. You shall come with me -to-morrow to Mr. Josiah Wedgwood's, to choose some of them.” - -“Dorothy!” says her mother, reprovingly. - -“And he must have the Chippendale table I saw yesterday at the -exhibition, and chairs to match. And every bachelor should have a punch -bowl--Josiah has such a beauty!” - -But I am running far ahead. Among the notes with which my table was -laden, Banks had found a scrawl. This I made out with difficulty to -convey that Mr. Fox was not attending Parliament that day. If Mr. Carvel -would do him the honour of calling at his lodging, over Mackie's Italian -Warehouse in Piccadilly, at four o'clock, he would take great pleasure -in introducing him at Brooks's Club. In those days 'twas far better for -a young gentleman of any pretensions to remain at home than go to London -and be denied that inner sanctuary,--the younger club at Almack's. Many -the rich brewer's son has embittered his life because it was not given -him to see more than the front of the house from the far side of Pall -Mall. But to be taken there by Charles Fox was an honour falling to few. -I made sure that Dolly was at the bottom of it. - -Promptly at four I climbed the stairs and knocked at Mr. Fox's door. -The Swiss who opened it shook his head dubiously when I asked for his -master, and said he had not been at home that day. - -“But I had an appointment to meet him,” I said, thinking it very -strange. - -The man's expression changed. - -“An appointment, sir! Ah, sir, then you are to step in here.” And to my -vast astonishment he admitted me into a small room at one side of -the entrance. It was bare as poverty, and furnished with benches, and -nothing more. On one of these was seated a person with an unmistakable -nose and an odour of St. Giles's, who sprang to his feet and then sat -down again dejectedly. I also sat down, wondering what it could mean, -and debating whether to go or stay. - -“Exguse me, your honour,” said the person, “but haf you seen Mister -Fox?” - -I said that I, too, was waiting for him, whereat he cast at me a -cunning look beyond my comprehension. Surely, I thought, a man of Fox's -inherited wealth and position could not be living in such a place! -Before the truth and humour of the situation had dawned upon me, I heard -a ringing voice without, swearing in most forcible English, and the door -was thrown open, admitting a tall young gentleman, as striking as I have -ever seen. He paid not the smallest attention to the Jew, who was bowing -and muttering behind me. - -“Mr. Richard Carvel?” said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye. - -I bowed. - -“Gad's life, Mr. Carvel, I'm deuced sorry this should have happened. -Will you come with me?” - -“Exguse me, your honour!” cried the other visitor. - -“Now, what the plague, Aaron!” says he; “you wear out the stairs. Come -to-morrow, or the day after.” - -“Ay, 'tis always 'to-morrow' with you fine gentlemen. But I vill bring -the bailiffs, so help me--” - -“Damn 'em!” says the tall young gentleman, as he slammed the door and so -shut off the wail. “Damn 'em, they worry Charles to death. If he would -only stick to quinze and picquet, and keep clear of the hounds*, he need -never go near a broker.” - - [* “The “hounds,” it appears, were the gentlemen of sharp practices at - White's and Almack's.--D. C. C.] - -“Do you have Jews in America, Mr. Carvel?” Without waiting for -an answer, he led me through a parlour, hung with pictures, and -bewilderingly furnished with French and Italian things, and Japan and -China ware and bronzes, and cups and trophies. “My name is Fitzpatrick, -Mr. Carvel,--yours to command, and Charles's. I am his ally for offence -and defence. We went to school together,” he explained simply. - -His manner was so free, and yet so dignified, as to charm me completely. -For I heartily despised all that fustian trumpery of the age. Then came -a voice from beyond, calling:-- - -“That you, Carvel? Damn that fellow Eiffel, and did he thrust you into -the Jerusalem Chamber?” - -“The Jerusalem Chamber!” I exclaimed. - -“Where I keep my Israelites,” said he; “but, by Gad's life! I think they -are one and all descended from Job, and not father Abraham at all. He -must have thought me cursed ascetic, eh, Fitz? Did you find the benches -hard? I had 'em made hard as the devil. But if they were of stone, I vow -the flock could find their own straw to sit on.” - -“Curse it, Charles,” cut in Mr. Fitzpatrick, in some temper, “can't you -be serious for once! He would behave this way, Mr. Carvel, if he were -being shriven by the Newgate ordinary before a last carting to Tyburn. -Charles, Charles, it was Aaron again, and the dog is like to snap at -last. He is talking of bailiffs. Take my advice and settle with him. -Hold Cavendish off another fortnight and settle with him.” - -Mr. Fox's reply was partly a laugh, and the rest of it is not to be -printed. He did not seem in the least to mind this wholesale disclosure -of his somewhat awkward affairs. And he continued to dress, or to be -dressed, alternately swearing at his valet and talking to Fitzpatrick -and to me. - -“You are both of a name,” said he. “Let a man but be called Richard, and -I seem to take to him. I' faith, I like the hunchback king, and believe -our friend Horry Walpole is right in defending him, despite Davie Hume. -I vow I shall like you, Mr. Carvel.” - -I replied that I certainly hoped so. - -“Egad, you come well enough recommended,” he said, pulling on his -breeches. “No, Eiffel, cursed if I go en petit maitre to-day. How does -that strike you for a demi saison, Mr. Buckskin? I wore three of 'em -through the customs last year, and March's worked olive nightgown tucked -under my greatcoat, and near a dozen pairs of shirts and stockings. And -each of my servants had on near as much. O Lud, we were amazing-like -beef-eaters or blower pigeons. Sorry you won't meet my brother,--he that -will have the title. He's out of town.” - -Going on in this discursory haphazard way while he dressed, he made me -feel much at home. For the young dictator--so Mr. Fitzpatrick informed -me afterward--either took to you or else he did not, and stood upon no -ceremony. After he had chosen a coat with a small pattern and his feet -had been thrust into the little red shoes with the high heels, imported -by him from France, he sent for a hackney-chaise. And the three of us -drove together to Pall Mall. Mr. Brooks was at the door, and bowed from -his hips as we entered. - -“A dozen vin de Graves, Brooks!” cries Mr. Fox, and ushers me into -a dining room, with high curtained windows and painted ceiling, and -chandeliers throwing a glitter of light. There, at a long table, -surrounded by powdered lackeys, sat a bevy of wits, mostly in blue and -silver, with point ruffles, to match Mr. Fox's costume. They greeted -my companions uproariously. It was “Here's Charles at last!” “Howdy, -Charles!” “Hello, Richard!” and “What have you there? a new Caribbee?” - They made way for Mr. Fox at the head of the table, and he took the seat -as though it were his right. - -“This is Mr. Richard Carvel, gentlemen, of Carvel Hall, in Maryland.” - -They stirred with interest when my name was called, and most of them -turned in their chairs to look at me. I knew well the reason, and felt -my face grow hot. Although you may read much of the courtesy of that -age, there was a deal of brutal frankness among young men of fashion. - -“Egad, Charles, is this he the Beauty rescued from Castle Yard?” - -A familiar voice relieved my embarrassment. - -“Give the devil his due, Bully. You forget that I had a hand in that.” - -“Faith, Jack Comyn,” retorted the gentleman addressed, “you're already -famous for clinging to her skirt.” - -“But cling to mine, Bully, and we'll all enter the temple together. But -I bid you welcome, Richard,” said his Lordship; “you come with two of -the most delightful vagabonds in the world.” - -Mr. Fox introduced me in succession to Colonel St. John, known in St. -James's Street as the Baptist; to my Lord Bolingbroke, Colonel -St. John's brother, who was more familiarly called Bully; to Mr. -Fitzpatrick's brother, the Earl of Upper Ossory, who had come up to -London, so he said, to see a little Italian dance at the Garden; to -Gilly Williams; to Sir Charles Bunbury, who had married Lady Sarah -Lennox, Fox's cousin, the beauty who had come so near to being queen of -all England; to Mr. Storer, who was at once a Caribbee and a Crichton; -to Mr. Uvedale Price. These I remember, but there are more that escape -me. Most good-naturedly they drank my health in Charles's vin de grave, -at four shillings the bottle; and soon I was astonished to find myself -launched upon the story of my adventures, which they had besought me -to tell them. When I had done, they pledged me again, and, beginning to -feel at home, I pledged them handsomely in return. Then the conversation -began. The like of it I have never heard anywhere else in the world. -There was a deal that might not be written here, and a deal more that -might, to make these pages sparkle. They went through the meetings, of -course, and thrashed over the list of horses entered at Ipswich, and -York, and Newmarket, and how many were thought to be pulled. Then -followed the recent gains and losses of each and every individual of -the company. After that there was a roar of merriment over Mr. -Storer cracking mottoes with a certain Lady Jane; and how young -Lord Stavordale, on a wager, tilted the candles and set fire to the -drawing-room at Lady Julia's drum, the day before. Mr. Price told of the -rage Topham Beauclerk had got Dr. Johnson into, by setting down a mark -for each oyster the sage had eaten, and showing him the count. But Mr. -Fox, who was the soul of the club, had the best array of any. He related -how he had gone post from Paris to Lyons, to order, among other things, -an embroidered canary waistcoat for George Selwyn from Jabot. “' Et -quel dessin, monsieur?' 'Beetles and frogs, in green.' 'Escargots! -grenouilles!' he cries, with a shriek; 'Et pour Monsieur Selwyn! -Monsieur Fox badine!' It came yesterday, by Crawford, and I sent it to -Chesterfield Street in time for George to wear to the Duchess's. He has -been twice to Piccadilly after me, and twice here, and swears he will -have my heart. And I believe he is now gone to Matson in a funk.” - -After that they fell upon politics. I knew that Mr. Fox was already -near the head of the King's party, and that he had just received a -substantial reward at his Majesty's hands; and I went not far to guess -that every one of these easy-going, devil-may-care macaronies was a -follower or sympathizer with Lord North's policy. But what I heard was -a revelation indeed. I have dignified it by calling it politics. All was -frankness here amongst friends. There was no attempt made to gloss over -ugly transactions with a veneer of morality. For this much I honoured -them. But irresistibly there came into my mind the grand and simple -characters of our own public men in America, and it made me shudder to -think that, while they strove honestly for our rights, this was the type -which opposed them. Motives of personal spite and of personal gain were -laid bare, and even the barter and sale of offices of trust took place -before my very eyes. I was silent, though my tongue burned me, until one -of the gentlemen, thinking me neglected, said: - -“What a-deuce is to be done with those unruly countrymen of yours, Mr. -Carvel? Are they likely to be pacified now that we have taken off all -except the tea? You who are of our party must lead a sorry life among -them. Tell me, do they really mean to go as far as rebellion?” - -The blood rushed to my face. - -“It is not a question of tea, sir,” I answered hotly; “nor yet of -tuppence. It is a question of principle, which means more to Englishmen -than life itself. And we are Englishmen.” - -I believe I spoke louder than I intended, for a silence followed my -words. Fox glanced at Comyn, who of all of them at the table was not -smiling, and said: - -“I thought you came of a loyalist family, Mr. Carvel.” - -“King George has no more loyal servants than the Americans, Mr. Fox, be -they Tory or Whig. And he has but to read our petitions to discover it,” - I said. - -I spoke calmly, but my heart was thumping with excitement and -resentment. The apprehension of the untried is apt to be sharp at -such moments, and I looked for them to turn their backs upon me for an -impertinent provincial. Indeed, I think they would have, all save Comyn, -had it not been for Fox himself. He lighted a pipe, smiled, and began -easily, quite dispassionately, to address me. - -“I wish you would favour us with your point of view, Mr. Carvel,” said -he; “for, upon my soul, I know little about the subject.” - -“You know little about the subject, and you in Parliament!” - -I cried. - -This started them all to laughing. Why, I did not then understand. But I -was angry enough. - -“Come, let's have it!” said he. - -They drew their chairs closer, some wearing that smile of superiority -which to us is the Englishman's most maddening trait. I did not stop -to think twice, or to remember that I was pitted against the greatest -debater in all England. I was to speak that of which I was full, and the -heart's argument needs no logic to defend it. If it were my last word, I -would pronounce it. - -I began by telling them that the Americans had paid their share of the -French war, in blood and money, twice over. And I had the figures in my -memory. Mr. Fox interrupted. For ten minutes at a space he spoke, and -in all my life I have never talked to a man who had the English of King -James's Bible, of Shakespeare, and Milton so wholly at his command. -And his knowledge of history, his classical citations, confounded me. -I forgot myself in wondering how one who had lived so fast had acquired -such learning. Afterward, when I tried to recall what he said, I laughed -at his surprising ignorance of the question at issue, and wondered where -my wits could have gone that I allowed myself to be dazzled and turned -aside at every corner. As his speech came faster he twisted fact into -fiction and fiction into fact, until I must needs close my mind and bolt -the shutters of it, or he had betrayed me into confessing the right -of Parliament to quarter troops among us. Though my head swam, I clung -doggedly to my text. And that was my salvation. He grew more excited, -and they applauded him. In truth, I myself felt near to clapping. And -then, as I stared him in the eye, marvelling how a man of such vast -power and ability could stand for such rotten practices, the thought -came to me (I know not whence) of Saint Paul the Apostle. - -“Mr. Fox,” I said, when he had paused, “before God, do you believe what -you are saying?” - -I saw them smiling at my earnestness and simplicity. Fox seemed -surprised, and laughed evasively,--not heartily as was his wont. - -“My dear Mr. Carvel,” he said, glancing around the circle, political -principles are not to be swallowed like religion, but taken rather like -medicine, experimentally. If they agree with you, very good. If not, -drop them and try others. We are always ready to listen to remedies, -here.” - -“Ay, if they agree with you!” I exclaimed. “But food for one is poison -for another. Do you know what you are doing? You are pushing home -injustice and tyranny to the millions, for the benefit of the thousands. -For is it not true, gentlemen, that the great masses of England are -against the measures you impose upon us? Their fight is our fight. They -are no longer represented in Parliament; we have never been. Taxation -without representation is true of your rotten boroughs as well as of -your vast colonies. You are helping the King to crush freedom abroad in -order that he may the more easily break it at home. You are committing a -crime. - -“I tell you we would give up all we own were the glory or honour of -England at stake. And yet you call us rebels, and accuse us of meanness -and of parsimony. If you wish money, leave the matter to our colonial -assemblies, and see how readily you will get it. But if you wish war, -persist in trying to grind the spirit from a people who have in them -the pride of your own ancestors. Yes, you are estranging the colonies, -gentlemen. A greater man than I has warned you” - -And with that I rose, believing that I had given them all mortal -offence. To my astonishment several got to their feet in front of me, -huzzaing, and Comyn and Lord Ossory grasped my hands. And Charles Fox -reached out over the corner of the table and pulled me back into my -chair. - -“Bravo, Richard Carvel!” he cried. “Cursed if I don't love a man who -will put up a fight against odds. Who will stand bluff to what he -believes, and won't be talked out of his boots. We won't quarrel with -any such here, my buckskin, I can tell you.” - -And that is the simple story, my dears, of the beginning of my -friendship with one who may rightly be called the Saint Paul of English -politics. He had yet some distance to go, alas, ere he was to begin -that sturdy battle for the right for which his countrymen and ours will -always bless him. I gave him my hand with a better will than I had ever -done anything, and we pressed our fingers numb. And his was not the only -hand I clasped. And honest Jack Comyn ordered more wine, that they might -drink to a speedy reconciliation with America. - -“A pint bumper to Richard Carvel!” said Mr. Fitzpatrick. - -I pledged Brooks's Club in another pint. Upon which they swore that -I was a good fellow, and that if all American Whigs were like me, all -cause of quarrel was at an end. Of this I was not so sure, nor could -I see that the question had been settled one way or another. And that -night I had reason to thank the Reverend Mr. Allen, for the first and -last time in my life, that I could stand a deal of liquor, and yet not -roll bottom upward. - -The dinner was settled on the Baptist, who paid for it without a -murmur. And then we adjourned to the business of the evening. The great -drawing-room, lighted by an hundred candles, was filled with gayly -dressed macaronies, and the sound of their laughter and voices in -contention mingled with the pounding of the packs on the mahogany and -the rattle of the dice and the ring of the gold pieces. The sight was -dazzling, and the noise distracting. Fox had me under his especial care, -and I was presented to young gentlemen who bore names that had been the -boast of England through the centuries. Lands their forebears had won by -lance and sword, they were squandering away as fast as ever they could. -I, too, was known. All had heard the romance of the Beauty and Castle -Yard, and some had listened to Horry Walpole tell that foolish story of -Goble at Windsor, on which he seemed to set such store. They guessed at -my weight. They betted upon it. And they wished to know if I could spin -Mr. Brooks, who was scraping his way from table to table. They gave me -choice of whist, or picquet, or quinze, or hazard. I was carried away. -Nay, I make no excuse. Tho' the times were drinking and gaming ones, I -had been brought up that a gentleman should do both in moderation. We -mounted, some dozen of us, to the floor above, and passed along to a -room of which Fox had the key; and he swung me in on his arm, the others -pressing after. And the door was scarce closed and locked again, before -they began stripping off their clothes. - -To my astonishment, Fox handed me a great frieze coat, which he bade me -don, as the others were doing. Some were turning their coats inside out; -for luck, said they; and putting on footman's leather guards to save -their ruffles. And they gave me a hat with a high crown, and a broad -brim to save my eyes from the candle glare. We were as grotesque a set -as ever I laid my eyes upon. But I hasten over the scene; which has long -become distasteful to me. I mention it only to show to what heights of -folly the young men had gone. I recall a gasp when they told me they -played for rouleaux of ten pounds each, but I took out my pocket-book as -boldly as tho' I had never played for less, and laid my stake upon the -board. Fox lost, again and again; but he treated his ill-luck with -such a raillery of contemptuous wit, that we must needs laugh with him. -Comyn, too, lost, and at supper excused himself, saying that he had -promised his mother, the dowager countess, not to lose more than a -quarter's income at a sitting. But I won and won, until the fever of it -got into my blood, and as the first faint light of that morning crept -into the empty streets, we were still at it, Fox vowing that he never -waked up until daylight. That the best things he said in the House came -to him at dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. LADY TANKERVILLE'S DRUM-MAJOR - -The rising sun, as he came through the little panes of the windows, -etched a picture of that room into my brain. I can see the twisted -candles with their wax smearing the sticks, the chairs awry, the tables -littered with blackened pipes, and bottles, and spilled wine and tobacco -among the dice; and the few that were left of my companions, some with -dark lines under their eyes, all pale, but all gay, unconcerned, witty, -and cynical; smoothing their ruffles, and brushing the ashes and snuff -from the pattern of their waistcoats. As we went downstairs, singing a -song Mr. Foote had put upon the stage that week, they were good enough -to declare that I should never be permitted to go back to Maryland. That -my grandfather should buy me a certain borough, which might be had for -six thousand pounds. - -The drawing-room made a dismal scene, too, after the riot and disorder -of the night. Sleepy servants were cleaning up, but Fox vowed that they -should bring us yet another bottle before going home. So down we sat -about the famous old round table, Fox fingering the dents the gold had -made in the board, and philosophizing; and reciting Orlando Furioso in -the Italian, and Herodotus in the original Greek. Suddenly casting his -eyes about, they fell upon an ungainly form stretched on a lounge, that -made us all start. - -“Bully!” he cried; “I'll lay you fifty guineas that Mr. Carvel gets the -Beauty, against Chartersea.” - -This roused me. - -“Nay, Mr. Fox, I beg of you,” I protested, with all the vehemence I -could muster. “Miss Manners must not be writ down in such a way.” - -For answer he snapped his fingers at the drowsy Brooks, who brought the -betting book. - -“There!” says he; “and there, and there,” turning over the pages; “her -name adorns a dozen leaves, my fine buckskin. And it will be well to -have some truth about her. Enter the wager, Brooks.” - -“Hold!” shouts Bolingbroke; “I haven't accepted.” - -You may be sure I was in an agony over this desecration, which I was so -powerless to prevent. But as I was thanking my stars that the matter had -blown over with Bolingbroke's rejection, there occurred a most singular -thing. - -The figure on the lounge, with vast difficulty, sat up. To our amazement -we beheld the bloated face of the Duke of Chartersea staring stupidly. - -“Damme, Bully, you refushe bet like tha'!” he said. “I'll take doshen of -'em-doshen, egad. Gimme the book, Brooksh. Cursh Fox--lay thousand d--d -provinshial never getsh 'er--I know--” - -I sat very still, seized with a loathing beyond my power to describe to -thick that this was the man Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry. Fox -laughed. - -“Help his Grace to his coach,” he said to two of the footmen. - -“Kill fellow firsht!” cried his Grace, with his hand on his sword, and -instantly fell over, and went sound asleep. - -“His Grace has sent his coach home, your honour,” said one of the men, -respectfully. “The duke is very quarrelsome, sir.” - -“Put him in a chair, then,” said Charles. - -So they fearfully lifted his Grace, who was too far gone to resist, and -carried him to a chair. And Mr. Fox bribed the chairmen with two guineas -apiece, which he borrowed from me, to set his Grace down amongst the -marketwomen at Covent Garden. - -The next morning Banks found in my pockets something over seven hundred -pounds more than I had had the day before. - -I rose late, my head swimming with mains and nicks, and combinations -of all the numbers under the dozen; debated whether or no I would go to -Arlington Street, and decided that I had not the courage. Comyn settled -it by coming in his cabriolet, proposed that we should get the air -in the park, dine at the Cocoa Tree, and go afterwards to Lady -Tankerville's drum-major, where Dolly would undoubtedly be. - -“Now you are here, Richard,” said his Lordship, with his accustomed -bluntness, “and your sea-captain has relieved your Quixotic conscience, -what the deuce do you intend to do? - -“Win a thousand pounds every night at Brooks's, or improve your time -and do your duty, and get Miss Manners out of his Grace's clutches? I'll -warrant something will come of that matter this morning.” - -“I hope so,” I said shortly. - -Comyn looked at me sharply. - -“Would you fight him?” he asked. - -“If he gave me the chance.” - -His Lordship whistled. “Egad, then,” said he, “I shall want to be there -to see. In spite of his pudding-bag shape he handles the sword as well -as any man in England. I have crossed with him at Angelo's. And he has a -devilish tricky record, Richard.” - -I said nothing to that. - -“Hope you do--kill him,” Comyn continued. “He deserves it richly. -But that will be a cursed unpleasant way of settling the -business,--unpleasant for you, unpleasant for her, and cursed unpleasant -for him, too, I suppose. Can't you think of any other way of getting -her? Ask Charles to give you a plan of campaign. You haven't any sense, -and neither have I.” - -“Hang you, Jack, I have no hopes of getting her,” I replied, for I was -out of humour with myself that day. “In spite of what you say, I know -she doesn't care a brass farthing to marry me. So let's drop that.” - -Comyn made a comic gesture of deprecation. I went on: “But I am going -to stay here and find out the truth, though it may be a foolish -undertaking. And if he is intimidating Mr. Manners--” - -“You may count on me, and on Charles,” said my Lord, generously; “and -there are some others I know of. Gad! You made a dozen of friends and -admirers by what you said last night, Richard. And his Grace has a few -enemies. You will not lack support.” - -We dined very comfortably at the Cocoa Tree, where Comyn had made an -appointment for me with two as diverting gentlemen as had ever been my -lot to meet. My Lord Carlisle was the poet and scholar of the little -clique which had been to Eton with Charles Fox, any member of which (so -'twas said) would have died for him. His Lordship, be it remarked in -passing, was as lively a poet and scholar as can well be imagined. -He had been recently sobered, so Comyn confided; which I afterwards -discovered meant married. Charles Fox's word for the same was fallen. -And I remembered that Jack had told me it was to visit Lady Carlisle at -Castle Howard that Dorothy was going when she heard of my disappearance. -Comyn's other guest was Mr. Topham Beauclerk, the macaroni friend of -Dr. Johnson. He, too, had been recently married, but appeared no more -sobered than his Lordship. Mr. Beauclerk's wife, by the way, was -the beautiful Lady Diana Spencer, who had been divorced from Lord -Bolingbroke, the Bully I had met the night before. These gentlemen -seemed both well acquainted with Miss Manners, and vowed that none but -American beauties would ever be the fashion in London more. Then we all -drove to Lady Tankerville's drum-major near Chesterfield House. - -“You will be wanting a word with her when she comes in,” said Comyn, -slyly divining. Poor fellow! I fear that I scarcely appreciated his -feelings as to Dorothy, or the noble unselfishness of his friendship for -me. - -We sat aside in a recess of the lower hall, watching the throng as they -passed: haughty dowagers, distorted in lead and disfigured in silk and -feathers nodding at the ceiling; accomplished beaus of threescore or -more, carefully mended for the night by their Frenchmen at home; young -ladies in gay brocades with round skirts and stiff, pear-shaped bodices; -and youngsters just learning to ogle and to handle their snuff-boxes. -One by one their names were sent up and solemnly mouthed by the footman -on the landing. At length, when we had all but given her up, Dorothy -arrived. A hood of lavender silk heightened the oval of her face, and -out from under it crept rebellious wisps of her dark hair. But she was -very pale, and I noticed for the first time a worn expression that gave -me a twinge of uneasiness. 'Twas then I caught sight of the duke, a -surly stamp on his leaden features. And after him danced Mr. Manners. -Dolly gave a little cry when she saw me. - -“Oh! Richard, I am so glad you are here. I was wondering what had become -of you. And Comyn, too.” Whispering to me, “Mamma has had a letter from -Mrs. Brice; your grandfather has been to walk in the garden.” - -“And Grafton?” - -“She said nothing of your uncle,” she replied, with a little shudder at -the name; “but wrote that Mr. Carvel was said to be better. So there! -your conscience need not trouble you for remaining. I am sure he would -wish you to pay a visit home. - -“And I have to scold you, sir. You have not been to Arlington Street for -three whole days.” - -It struck me suddenly that her gayety was the same as that she had worn -to my birthday party, scarce a year agone. - -“Dolly, you are not well!” I said anxiously. - -She flung her head saucily for answer. In the meantime his Grace, -talking coldly to Comyn, had been looking unutterable thunders at me. -I thought of him awaking in the dew at Covent Garden, and could scarce -keep from laughing in his face. Mr. Marmaduke squirmed to the front. - -“Morning, Richard,” he said, with a marked cordiality. “Have you met -the Duke of Chartersea? No! Your Grace, this is Mr. Richard Carvel. His -family are dear friends of ours in the colonies.” - -To my great surprise, the duke saluted me quite civilly. But I had the -feeling of facing a treacherous bull which would gore me as soon as ever -my back was turned. He was always putting me in mind of a bull, with his -short neck and heavy, hunched shoulders,--and with the ugly tinge of red -in the whites of his eyes. - -“Mr. Manners tells me you are to remain awhile in London, Mr. Carvel,” - he said, in his thick voice. - -I took his meaning instantly, and replied in kind. - -“Yes, your Grace, I have some business to attend to here.” - -“Ah,” he answered; “then I shall see you again.” - -“Probably, sir,” said I. - -His Lordship watched this thrust and parry with an ill-concealed -delight. Dorothy's face was impassive, expressionless. As the duke -turned to mount the stairs, he stumbled clumsily across a young man -coming to pay his respects to Miss Manners, and his Grace went sprawling -against the wall. - -“Confound you, sir!” he cried. - -For the ducal temper was no respecter of presences. Then a title was a -title to those born lower, and the young man plainly had a vast honour -for a coronet. - -“I beg your Grace's pardon,” said he. - -“Who the deuce is he?” demanded the duke petulantly of Mr. Manners, -thereby setting the poor little man all a-tremble. - -“Why, why,--” he replied, searching for his spyglass. - -For an instant Dolly's eyes shot scorn. Chartersea had clearly seen and -heeded that signal before. - -“The gentleman is a friend of mine,” she said. - -Tho' I were put out of the Garden of Eden as a consequence, I itched to -have it out with his Grace then and there. I knew that I was bound -to come into collision with him sooner or later. Such, indeed, was my -mission in London. But Dorothy led the way upstairs, a spot of colour -burning each of her cheeks. The stream of guests had been arrested until -the hall was packed, and the curious were peering over the rail above. - -“Lord, wasn't she superb!” exclaimed Comyn, exultingly, as we followed. -In the drawing-room the buzzing about the card tables was hushed a -moment as she went in. But I soon lost sight of her, thanks to Comyn. He -drew me on from group to group, and I was duly presented to a score -of Lady So-and-sos and honourable misses, most of whom had titles, but -little else. Mammas searched their memories, and suddenly discovered -that they had heard their parents speak of my grandfather. But, as it -was a fair presumption that most colonial gentlemen made a visit home at -least once in their lives, I did not allow the dust to get into my eyes. -I was invited to dinners, and fairly showered with invitations to balls -and drums and garden parties. I was twitted about the Beauty, most often -with only a thin coating of amiability covering the spite of the remark. -In short, if my head had not been so heavily laden with other matters, -it might well have become light under the strain. Had I been ambitious -to enter the arena I should have had but little trouble, since -eligibility then might be reduced to guineas and another element not -moral. I was the only heir of one of the richest men in the colony, -vouched for by the Manners and taken up by Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn. -Inquiries are not pushed farther. I could not help seeing the hardness -of it all, or refrain from contrasting my situation with that of the -penniless outcast I had been but a little time before. The gilded rooms, -the hundred yellow candles multiplied by the mirrors, the powder, the -perfume, the jewels,--all put me in mind of the poor devils I had left -wasting away their lives in Castle Yard. They, too, had had their times -of prosperity, their friends who had faded with the first waning of -fortune. Some of them had known what it was to be fawned over. And how -many of these careless, flitting men of fashion I looked upon could feel -the ground firm beneath their feet; or could say with certainty what -a change of ministers, or one wild night at White's or Almack's, would -bring forth? Verily, one must have seen the under side of life to know -the upper! - -Presently I was sought out by Mr. Topham Beauclerk, who had heard of the -episode below and wished to hear more. He swore at the duke. - -“He will be run through some day, and serve him jolly right,” said he. -“Bet you twenty pounds Charles Fox does it! His Grace knows he has the -courage to fight him.” - -“The courage!” I repeated. - -“Yes. Angelo says the duke has diabolical skill. And then he won't fight -fair. He killed young Atwater on a foul, you know. Slipped on the wet -grass, and Chartersea had him pinned before he caught his guard. But -there is Lady Di a-calling, a-calling.” - -“Do all the women cheat in America too?” asked Topham, as we approached. - -I thought of my Aunt Caroline, and laughed. - -“Some,” I answered. - -“They will game, d--n 'em,” said Topham, as tho' he had never gamed in -his life. “And they will cheat, till a man has to close his eyes to -keep from seeing their pretty hands. And they will cry, egad, oh so -touchingly, if the luck goes against them in spite of it all. Only last -week I had to forgive Mrs Farnham an hundred guineas. She said she'd -lost her pin-money twice over, and was like to have wept her eyes out.” - -Thus primed in Topham's frank terms, I knew what to expect. And I found -to my amusement he had not overrun the truth. I lost like a stoic, saw -nothing, and discovered the straight road to popularity. - -“The dear things expect us to make it up at the clubs,” whispered he. - -I discovered how he had fallen in love with his wife, Lady Diana, and -pitied poor Bolingbroke heartily for having lost her. She was then -in her prime,--a beauty, a wit, and a great lady, with a dash of the -humanities about her that brought both men and women to her feet. - -“You must come to see me, Mr. Carvel,” said she. “I wish to talk to you -of Dorothy.” - -“Your Ladyship believes me versed in no other subject?” I asked. - -“None other worth the mention,” she replied instantly; “Topham tells me -you can talk horses, and that mystery of mysteries, American politics. -But look at Miss Manners Dow. I'll warrant she is making Sir Charles see -to his laurels, and young Stavordale is struck dumb.” - -I looked up quickly and beheld Dolly surrounded by a circle of admirers. - -“Mark the shot strike!” Lady Di continued, between the deals; “that time -Chartersea went down. I fancy he is bowled over rather often,” she said -slyly. “What a brute it is. And they say that that little woman she has -for a father imagines a union with the duke will redound to his glory.” - -“They say,” remarked Mrs. Meynel, sitting next me, “that the duke has -thumbscrews of some kind on Mr. Manners.” - -“Miss Manners is able to take care of herself,” said Topham. - -“'On dit', that she has already refused as many dukes as did her Grace -of Argyle,” said Mrs. Meynel. - -I had lost track of the cards, and knew I was losing prodigiously. But -my eyes went back again and again to the group by the doorway, where -Dolly was holding court and dispensing justice, and perchance injustice. -The circle increased. Ribands, generals whose chests were covered with -medals of valour, French noblemen, and foreign ambassadors stopped for -a word with the Beauty and passed on their way, some smiling, some -reflecting, to make room for others. I overheard from the neighbouring -tables a spiteful protest that a young upstart from the colonies -should turn Lady Tankerville's drum into a levee. My ears tingled as I -listened. But not a feathered parrot in the carping lot of them could -deny that Miss Manners had beauty and wit enough to keep them all at -bay. Hers was not an English beauty: every line of her face and pose of -her body proclaimed her of that noble type of Maryland women, distinctly -American, over which many Englishmen before and since have lost their -heads and hearts. - -“Egad!” exclaimed Mr. Storer, who was looking on; “she's already -defeated some of the Treasury Bench, and bless me if she isn't rating -North himself.” - -Half the heads in the room were turned toward Miss Manners, who was -exchanging jokes with the Prime Minister of Great Britain. I saw a -corpulent man, ludicrously like the King's pictures, with bulging gray -eyes that seemed to take in nothing. And this was North, upon whose -conduct with the King depended the fate of our America. Good-natured he -was, and his laziness was painfully apparent. He had the reputation of -going to sleep standing, like a horse. - -“But the Beauty contrives to keep him awake,” said Storer. - -“If you stay among us, Mr. Carvel,” said Topham, “she will get you a -commissionership for the asking.” - -“Look,” cried Lady Di, “there comes Mr. Fox, the precocious, the -irresistible. Were he in the Bible, we should read of him passing the -time of day with King Solomon.” - -“Or instructing Daniel in the art of lion-taming,” put in Mrs. Meynel. - -There was Mr. Fox in truth, and the Beauty's face lighted up at sight of -him. And presently, when Lord North had made his bow and passed on, -he was seen to lead her out of the room, leaving her circle to go to -pieces, like an empire without a head. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. DRURY LANE - -After a night spent in making resolutions, I set out for Arlington -Street, my heart beating a march, as it had when I went thither on my -arrival in London. Such was my excitement that I was near to being run -over in Piccadilly like many another country gentleman, and roundly -cursed by a wagoner for my stupidity. I had a hollow bigness within -me, half of joy, half of pain, that sent me onward with ever increasing -steps and a whirling storm of contradictions in my head. Now it was: -Dolly loved me in spite of all the great men in England. Why, otherwise, -had she come to the sponging-house? Berating myself: had her affection -been other than that of a life-long friendship she would not have come -an inch. But why had she made me stay in London? Why had she spoken so -to Comyn? What interpretation might be put upon a score of little acts -of hers that came a-flooding to mind, each a sacred treasure of memory? -A lover's interpretation, forsooth. Fie, Richard! what presumption to -think that you, a raw lad, should have a chance in such a field! You -have yet, by dint of hard knocks and buffets, to learn the world. - -By this I had come in sight of her house, and suddenly I trembled like a -green horse before a cannon. My courage ran out so fast that I was -soon left without any, and my legs had carried me as far as St. James's -Church before I could bring them up. Then I was sure, for the first -time, that she did not love me. In front of the church I halted, -reflecting that I had not remained in England with any hope of it, but -rather to discover the truth about Chartersea's actions, and to save -her, if it were possible. I turned back once more, and now got as far as -the knocker, and lifted it as a belfry was striking the hour of noon. I -think I would have fled again had not the door been immediately opened. - -Once more I found myself in the room looking out over the Park, the -French windows open to the balcony, the sunlight flowing in with the -spring-scented air. On the table was lying a little leather book, -stamped with gold,--her prayerbook. Well I remembered it! I opened it, -to read: “Dorothy, from her Mother. Annapolis, Christmas, 1768.” The -sweet vista of the past stretched before my eyes. I saw her, on such a, -Mayday as this, walking to St. Anne's under the grand old trees, their -budding leaves casting a delicate tracery at her feet. I followed her up -the aisle until she disappeared in the high pew, and then I sat beside -my grandfather and thought of her, nor listened to a word of Mr. Allen's -sermon. Why had they ever taken her to London? - -When she came in I sought her face anxiously. She was still pale; and -I thought, despite her smile, that a trace of sadness lingered in her -eyes. - -“At last, sir, you have come,” she said severely. “Sit down and give an -account of yourself at once. You have been behaving very badly.” - -“Dorothy--” - -“Pray don't 'Dorothy' me, sir. But explain where you have been for this -week past.” - -“But, Dolly--” - -“You pretend to have some affection for your old playmate, but you do -not trouble yourself to come to see her.” - -“Indeed, you do me wrong.” - -“Do you wrong! You prefer to gallivant about town with Comyn and Charles -Fox, and with all those wild gentlemen who go to Brooks's. Nay, I have -heard of your goings-on. I shall write to Mr. Carvel to-day, and advise -him to send for you. And tell him that you won a thousand pounds in one -night--” - -“It was only seven hundred,” I interrupted sheepishly. I thought she -smiled faintly. - -And will probably lose twenty thousand before you have done. And I shall -say to him that you have dared to make bold rebel speeches to a Lord of -the Admiralty and to some of the King's supporters. I shall tell your -grandfather you are disgracing him.” - -“Rebel speeches!” I cried. - -“Yes, rebel speeches at Almack's. Who ever heard of such a thing! No -doubt I shall hear next of your going to a drawing-room and instructing -his Majesty how to subdue the colonies. And then, sir, you will be sent -to the Tower, and I shan't move a finger to get you out.” - -“Who told you of this, Dolly?” I demanded. - -“Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,--or so bad,--that he -took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let -you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue. -I replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr. -Franklin.” - -I laughed. - -“I saw Fox lead you off,” I said. - -“Oh, you did, did you!” she retorted. “But you never once came near me -yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there -a full three hours.” - -“How could I!” I exclaimed. “You were surrounded by prime ministers and -ambassadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people.” - -“When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way.” - -“Nay,” I answered, despairing, “I can never explain anything to you, -Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine.” - -“Why didn't you go home with your captain?” she asked mockingly. - -“Do you know why I stayed?” - -“I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures -of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can -think of no other season.” - -“There is another,” I said desperately. - -“Ah,” said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in -the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my -very temples throbbing. - -“We have no such springs at home,” she said. “But oh, I wish I were at -Wilmot House to-day!” - -“There is another reason,” I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like -that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly. -The southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the -curtains at our backs. - -“You have a conscience, Richard,” she said gently, without turning. “So -few of us have.” - -I was surprised. Nor did I know what to make of that there were so many -meanings. - -“You are wild,” she continued, “and impulsive, as they say your father -was. But he was a man I should have honoured. He stood firm beside his -friends. He made his enemies fear him. All strong men must have enemies, -I suppose. They must make them.” - -I looked at her, troubled, puzzled, but burning at her praise of Captain -Jack. - -“Dolly,” I cried, “you are not well. Why won't you come back to -Maryland?” - -She did not reply to that. Then she faced me suddenly. - -“Richard, I know now why you insisted upon going back. It was because -you would not desert your sea-captain. Comyn and Mr. Fox have told me, -and they admire you for it as much as I.” - -What language is worthy to describe her as she was then in that pose, -with her head high, as she was wont to ride over the field after -the hounds. Hers was in truth no beauty of stone, but the beauty of -force,--of life itself. - -“Dorothy,” I cried; “Dorothy, I stayed because I love you. There, I have -said it again, what has not passed my lips since we were children. What -has been in my heart ever since.” - -I stopped, awed. For she had stepped back, out on the balcony. She -hid her head in her hands, and I saw her breast shaken as with sobs. I -waited what seemed a day,--a year. Then she raised her face and looked -at me through the tears shining in her eyes. - -“Richard,” she said sadly, “why, why did you ever tell me? Why can we -not always be playmates?” - -The words I tried to say choked me. I could not speak for sorrow, for -very bitterness. And yet I might have known! I dared not look at her -again. - -“Dear Richard,” I heard her say, “God alone understands how it hurts me -to give you pain. Had I only foreseen--” - -“Had you only foreseen,” I said quickly. - -“I should never have let you speak.” - -Her words came steadily, but painfully. And when I raised my eyes she -met them bravely. - -“You must have seen,” I cried. “These years I have loved you, nor could -I have hidden it if I had wished. But I have little--to offer you,” I -went on cruelly, for I knew not what I said; “you who may have English -lands and titles for the consenting. I was a fool.” - -Her tears started again. And at sight of them I was seized with such -remorse that I could have bitten my tongue in two. - -“Forgive me, Dorothy, if you can,” I implored. “I did not mean it. Nor -did I presume to think you loved me. I have adored,--I shall be content -to adore from far below. And I stayed,--I stayed that I might save you -if a danger threatened.” - -“Danger!” she exclaimed, catching her breath. - -“I will come to the point,” I said. “I stayed to save you from the Duke -of Chartersea.” - -She grasped the balcony rail, and I think would have fallen but for my -arm. Then she straightened, and only the quiver of her lip marked the -effort. - -“To save me from the Duke of Chartersea?” she said, so coldly that my -conviction was shaken. “Explain yourself, sir.” - -“You cannot love him!” I cried, amazed. - -She flashed upon me a glance I shall never forget. - -“Richard Carvel,” she said, “you have gone too far. Though you have been -my friend all my life, there are some things which even you cannot say -to me.” - -And she left me abruptly and went into the house, her head flung back. -And I followed in a tumult of mortification and wounded pride, in such -a state of dejection that I wished I had never been born. But hers was a -nature of surprises, and impulsive, like my own. Beside the cabinet she -turned, calm again, all trace of anger vanished from her face. Drawing -a hawthorn sprig from a porcelain vase I had given her, she put it in my -hand. - -“Let us forget this, Richard,” said she; “we have both been very -foolish.” - -Forget, indeed! Unless Heaven had robbed me of reason, had torn the past -from me at a single stroke. I could not have forgotten. When I reached -my lodgings I sent the anxious Banks about his business and threw myself -in a great chair before the window, the chair she had chosen. Strange to -say, I had no sensation save numbness. The time must have been about -two of the clock: I took no account of it. I recall Banks coming timidly -back with the news that two gentlemen had called. I bade him send -them away. Would my honour not have Mrs. Marble cook my dinner, and be -dressed for Lady Pembroke's ball? I sent him off again, harshly. - -After a long while the slamming of a coach door roused me, and I was -straightway seized with such an agony of mind that I could have cried -aloud. 'Twas like the pain of blood flowing back into a frozen limb. -Darkness was fast gathering as I reached the street and began to walk -madly. Word by word I rehearsed the scene in the drawing-room over the -Park, but I could not think calmly, for the pain of it. Little by little -I probed, writhing, until far back in my boyhood I was tearing at the -dead roots of that cherished plant, which was the Hope of Her Love. It -had grown with my own life, and now with its death to-day I felt that -I had lost all that was dear to me. Then, in the midst of this abject -self-pity, I was stricken with shame. I thought of Comyn, who had borne -the same misfortune as a man should. Had his pain been the less because -he had not loved her from childhood? Like Comyn, I resolved to labour -for her happiness. - -What hour of the night it was I know not when a man touched me on the -shoulder, and I came to myself with a start. I was in a narrow street -lined by hideous houses, their windows glaring with light. Each seemed -a skull, with rays darting from its grinning eye-holes. Within I caught -glimpses of debauchery that turned me sick. Ten paces away three women -and a man were brawling, the low angry tones of his voice mingling with -the screeches of their Billingsgate. Muffled figures were passing and -repassing unconcernedly, some entering the houses, others coming out, -and a handsome coach, without arms and with a footman in plain livery, -lumbered along and stopped farther on. All this I remarked before I took -notice of him who had intercepted me, and demanded what he wanted. - -“Hey, Bill!” he cried with an oath to a man who stood on the steps -opposite; “'ere's a soft un as has put 'is gill in.” - -The man responded, and behind him came two more of the same feather, and -suddenly I found myself surrounded by an ill-smelling crowd of flashy -men and tawdry women. They jostled me, and I reached for my sword, to -make the discovery that I had forgotten it. Regaining my full senses, I -struck the man nearest me a blow that sent him sprawling in the dirt. A -blade gleamed under the sickly light of the fish-oil lamp overhead, but -a man crashed through from behind and caught the ruffian's sword-arm and -flung him back in the kennel. - -“The watch!” he cried, “the watch!” - -They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me -standing alone with him. The affair had come and gone so quickly that I -scarce caught my breath. - -“Pardon, sir,” he said, knuckling, “but I followed you.” - -It was Banks. For a second time he had given me an affecting example of -his faithfulness. I forgot that he was my servant, and I caught his hand -and pressed it. - -“You have saved my life at the risk of your own,” I said; “I shall not -forget it.” - -But Banks had been too well trained to lose sight of his position. He -merely tipped his hat again and said imperturbably: - -“Best get out of here, your honour. They'll be coming again directly.” - -“Where are we?” I asked. - -“Drury Lane, sir,” he replied, giving me just the corner of a glance; -“shall I fetch a coach, sir?” No, I preferred to walk. Before we had -turned into Long Acre I had seen all of this Sodom of London that it -should be given a man to see, if indeed we must behold some of the -bestiality of this world. Here alone, in the great city, high and low -were met equal. Sin levels rank. The devil makes no choice between my -lord and his kitchen wench who has gone astray. Here, in Sodom, painted -vice had lain for an hundred years and bred half the crime of a century. -How many souls had gone hence in that time to meet their Maker! Some -of these brazen creatures who leered at me had known how long ago!--a -peaceful home and a mother's love; had been lured in their innocence -to this place of horrors, never to leave it until death mercifully -overtakes them. Others, having fallen, had been driven hither by a cruel -world that shelters all save the helpless, that forgives all save the -truly penitent. I shuddered as I thought of Mr. Hogarth's prints, which, -in the library in Marlboro' Street at home, had had so little meaning -for me. Verily he had painted no worse than the reality. As I strode -homeward, my own sorrow subdued by the greater sorrow I had looked upon, -the craving I had had to be alone was gone, and I would have locked -arms with a turnspit. I called to Banks, who was behind at a respectful -distance, and bade him come talk to me. His presence of mind in calling -on the watch had made even a greater impression upon me than his -bravery. I told him that he should have ten pounds, and an increase of -wages. And I asked him where I had gone after leaving Dover Street, and -why he had followed me. He answered this latter question first. He had -seen gentlemen in the same state, or something like it, before: his -Lordship, his late master, after he had fought with Mr. Onslow, of the -Guards, and Sir Edward Minturn, when he had lost an inheritance and a -reversion at Brooks's, and was forced to give over his engagement to -marry the Honourable Miss Swift. “Lord, sir,” he said, “but that was -a sad case, as set all London agog. And Sir Edward shot hisself at -Portsmouth not a se'nnight after.” - -And he relapsed into silence, no doubt longing to ask the cause of my -own affliction. Presently he surprised me by saying: - -“And I might make so bold, Mr. Carvel, I would like to tell your honour -something.” - -I nodded. And he hawed awhile and then burst out: - -“Your honour must know then that I belongs to the footman's club in -Berkeley Square, where I meets all the servants o' quality--” - -“Yes,” I said, wondering what footman's tale he had to tell. - -“And Whipple, he's a hintimate o' mine, sir.” He stopped again. - -“And who may Whipple be?” - -“With submission, sir. Whipple's his Grace o' Chartersea's man--and, -you'll forgive me, sir--Whipple owns his Grace is prodigious ugly, an' -killed young Mr. Atwater unfair, some think. Whipple says he would give -notice had he not promised the old duke--” - -“Drat Whipple!” I cried. - -“Yes, sir. To be sure, sir. His Grace was in a bloody rage when he found -hisself in a fruit bin at Covent Carding. An' two redbreasts had carried -him to the round house, sir, afore they discovered his title. An' since -his Grace ha' said time an' time afore Whipple, that he'll ha' Mr. -Carvel's heart for that, and has called you most disgustin' bad names, -sir. An' Whipple he says to me: 'Banks, drop your marster a word, an' -you get the chance. His Grace'll speak him fair to's face, but let him -look behind him.'” - -“I thank you again, Banks. I shall bear in mind your devotion,” I -replied. “But I had nothing to do with sending the duke to Covent -Garden.” - -“Ay, sir, so I tells Whipple.” - -“Pray, how did you know?” I demanded curiously. - -“Lord, sir! All the servants at Almack's is friends o' mine,” says he. -“But Whipple declares his Grace will be sworn you did it, sir, tho' the -Lord Mayor hisself made deposition 'twas not.” - -“Then mark me, Banks, you are not to talk of this.” - -“Oh, Lord, no, your honour,” he said, as he fell back. But I was not so -sure of his discretion as of his loyalty. - -And so I was led to perceive that I was not to be the only aggressor in -the struggle that was to come. That his Grace did me the honour to -look upon me as an obstacle. And that he intended to seize the first -opportunity to make way with me, by fair means or foul. - - - - -Volume 6. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. HIS GRACE MAKES ADVANCES - -The next morning I began casting about as to what I should do next. -There was no longer any chance of getting at the secret from Dorothy, if -secret there were. Whilst I am ruminating comes a great battling at -the street door, and Jack Comyn blew in like a gust of wind, rating me -soundly for being a lout and a blockhead. - -“Zooks!” he cried, “I danced the soles off my shoes trying to get in -here yesterday, and I hear you were moping all the time, and paid me no -more attention than I had been a dog scratching at the door. What! and -have you fallen out with my lady?” - -I confessed the whole matter to him. He was not to be resisted. He -called to Banks for a cogue of Nantsey, and swore amazingly at what he -was pleased to term the inscrutability of woman, offering up consolation -by the wholesale. The incident, he said, but strengthened his conviction -that Mr. Manners had appealed to Dorothy to save him. “And then,” added -his Lordship, facing me with absolute fierceness, “and then, Richard, -why the devil did she weep? There were no tears when I made my avowal. -I tell you, man, that the whole thing points but the one way. She loves -you. I swear it by the rood.” - -I could not help laughing, and he stood looking at me with such a -whimsical expression that I rose and flung my arms around him. - -“Jack, Jack!” I cried, “what a fraud you are! Do you remember the -argument you used when you had got me out of the sponging-house? Quoting -you, all I had to do was to put Dorothy to the proof, and she would toss -Mr. Marmaduke and his honour broadcast. Now I have confessed myself, and -what is the result? Nay, your theory is gone up in vapour.” - -“Then why,” cried his Lordship, hotly, “why before refusing me did she -demand to know whether you had been in love with Patty Swain? 'Sdeath! -you put me in mind of a woman upon stilts--a man has always to be -walking alongside her with encouragement handy. And when a proud -creature such as our young lady breaks down as she hath done, 'tis -clear as skylight there is something wrong. And as for Mr. Manners, Hare -overheard a part of a pow-wow 'twixt him and the duke at the Bedford -Arms,--and Chartersea has all but owned in some of his drunken fits that -our little fop is in his power.” - -“Then she is in love with some one else,” I said. - -“I tell you she is not,” said Comyn, still more emphatically; “and you -can write that down in red in your table book. Gossip has never been -able to connect her name with that of any man save yours, when she went -for you in Castle Yard. And, gemini, gossip is like water, and will get -in if a crack shows. When the Marquis of Wells was going to Arlington -Street once every day, she sent him about his business in a fortnight.” - -Despite Comyn's most unselfish optimism, I could see no light. And in -the recklessness that so often besets youngsters of my temper, on -like occasions, I went off to Newmarket next day with Mr. Fox and Lord -Ossory, in his Lordship's travelling-chaise and four. I spent a very gay -week trying to forget Miss Dolly. I was the loser by some three hundred -pounds, in addition to what I expended and loaned to Mr. Fox. This young -gentleman was then beginning to accumulate at Newmarket a most execrable -stud. He lost prodigiously, but seemed in no wise disturbed thereby. -I have never known a man who took his ill-luck with such a stoical -nonchalance. Not so while the heat was on. As I write, a most ridiculous -recollection rises of Charles dragging his Lordship and me and all who -were with him to that part of the course where the race was highest, -where he would act like a madman; blowing and perspiring, and whipping -and swearing all at a time, and rising up and down as if the horse was -throwing him. - -At Newmarket I had the good--or ill-fortune to meet that incorrigible -rake and profligate, my Lord of March and Ruglen. For him the goddess -of Chance had smiled, and he was in the most complaisant humour. I was -presented to his Grace, the Duke of Grafton, whose name I had no reason -to love, and invited to Wakefield Lodge. We went instead, Mr. Fox and -I, to Ampthill, Lord Ossory's seat, with a merry troop. And then we had -more racing; and whist and quinze and pharaoh and hazard, until I was -obliged to write another draft upon Mr. Dix to settle the wails: and -picquet in the travelling-chaise all the way to London. Dining at -Brooks's, we encountered Fitzpatrick and Comyn and my Lord Carlisle. - -“Now how much has Charles borrowed of you, Mr. Carvel?” demanded -Fitzpatrick, as we took our seats. - -“I'll lay ten guineas that Charles has him mortgaged this day month, -though he owns as much land as William Penn, and is as rich as Fordyce.” - -Comyn demanded where the devil I had been, though he knew perfectly. He -was uncommonly silent during dinner, and then asked me if I had heard -the news. I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the -quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. - -“Curse you, Richard,” says be; “you have put me in such a temper that I -vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting -to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill.” - -“Ill!” I said, catching my breath. - -“Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say. She was missed at Lady -Pembroke's that Friday you had the scene with her, and at Lady -Ailesbury's on Saturday. On Monday morning, when I come to you for -tidings, you are off watching Charles make an ass of himself at -Newmarket.” - -“And how is she now, Comyn?” I asked, catching him by the arm. - -“You may go yourself and see, and be cursed, Richard Carvel. She is in -trouble, and you are pleasure-seeking in the country. Damme! you deserve -richly to lose her.” - -Calling for my greatcoat, and paying no heed to the jeers of the company -for leaving before the toasts and the play, I fairly ran to Arlington -Street. I was in a passion of remorse. Comyn had been but just. -Granting, indeed, that she had refused to marry me, was that any reason -why I should desert my life-long friend and playmate? A hundred little -tokens of her affection for me rose to mind, and last of all that -rescue from Castle Yard in the face of all Mayfair. And in that hour of -darkness the conviction that something was wrong came back upon me -with redoubled force. Her lack of colour, her feverish actions, and the -growing slightness of her figure, all gave me a pang, as I connected -them with that scene on the balcony over the Park. - -The house was darkened, and a coach was in front of it. - -“Yessir,” said the footman, “Miss Manners has been quite ill. She is now -some better, and Dr. James is with her. Mrs. Manners begs company will -excuse her.” - -And Mr. Marmaduke? The man said, with as near a grin as he ever got, -that the marster was gone to Mrs. Cornelys's assembly. As I turned away, -sick at heart, the physician, in his tie-wig and scarlet cloak, came -out, and I stopped him. He was a testy man, and struck the stone an -impatient blow with his staff. - -“'Od's life, sir. I am besieged day and night by you young gentlemen. I -begin to think of sending a daily card to Almack's.” - -“Sir, I am an old friend of Miss Manners,” I replied, “having grown up -with her in Maryland--” - -“Are you Mr. Carvel?” he demanded abruptly, taking his hat from his arm. - -“Yes,” I answered, surprised. In the gleam of the portico lanthorn he -scrutinized me for several seconds. - -“There are some troubles of the mind which are beyond the power of -physic to remedy, Mr. Carvel,” said he. “She has mentioned your name, -sir, and you are to judge of my meaning. Your most obedient, sir. Good -night, sir.” - -And he got into his coach, leaving me standing where I was, bewildered. - -That same fear of being alone, which has driven many a man to his cups, -sent me back to Brooks's for company. I found Fox and Comyn seated at -a table in the corner of the drawing-room, for once not playing, but -talking earnestly. Their expressions when they saw me betrayed what my -own face must have been. - -“What is it?” cried Comyn, half rising; “is she--is she--” - -“No, she is better,” I said. - -He looked relieved. - -“You must have frightened him badly, Jack,” said Fox. - -I flung myself into a chair, and Fox proposed whist, something unusual -for him. Comyn called for cards, and was about to go in search of a -fourth, when we all three caught sight of the Duke of Chartersea in the -door, surveying the room with a cold leisure. His eye paused when in -line with us, and we were seized with astonishment to behold him making -in our direction. - -“Squints!” exclaimed Mr. Fox, “now what the devil can the hound want?” - -“To pull your nose for sending him to market,” my Lord suggested. - -Fox laughed coolly. - -“Lay you twenty he doesn't, Jack,” he said. - -His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming -to force the fighting. The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round -mahogany table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for -the Covent Garden story was well known. Chartersea laid his hand on -the back of our fourth chair, greeted us with some ceremony, and said -something which, under the circumstances, was almost unheard of in -that day: “If you stand in need of one, gentlemen, I should deem it an -honour.” - -The situation had in it enough spice for all of us. We welcomed him with -alacrity. The cards were cut, and it fell to his Grace to deal, which -he did very prettily, despite his heavy hands. He drew Charles Fox, and -they won steadily. The conversation between deals was anywhere; on the -virtue of Morello cherries for the gout, to which his Grace was already -subject; on Mr. Fox's Ariel, and why he had not carried Sandwich's cup -at Newmarket; on the advisability of putting three-year-olds on the -track; in short, on a dozen small topics of the kind. At length, when -Comyn and I had lost some fifty pounds between us, Chartersea threw down -the cards. - -“My coach waits to-night, gentlemen,” said he, with some sort of an -accent that did not escape us. “It would give me the greatest pleasure -and you will sup with me in Hanover Square.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS - -His Grace's offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce have -expected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment. -We knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and on -the way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, and -I answered the pressure. Our coats and canes were taken by the duke's -lackeys when we arrived. We were shown over the house. Until now--so his -Grace informed us--it had not been changed since the time of the fourth -duke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of the -Hanoverian succession. The rooms were high-panelled and furnished in -the German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built. But some -were stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costly -marble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renown -was decorating the ceilings. His Grace appeared to be at some pains that -the significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; was -constantly appealing to Mr. Fox's taste on this or that feature. But -those fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunity -to wink. It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Chartersea -meant to be married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with a -purpose. For me he would have put himself out not an inch had he not -understood that my support came from those quarters. - -He tempered off this exhibition by showing us a collection of pottery -famous in England, that had belonged to the fifth duke, his father. -Every piece of it, by the way, afterwards brought an enormous sum at -auction. Supper was served in a warm little room of oak. The game was -from Derresley Manor, the duke's Nottinghamshire seat, and the wine, so -he told us, was some of fifty bottles of rare Chinon he had inherited. -Melted rubies it was indeed, of the sort which had quickened the blood -of many a royal gathering at Blois and Amboise and Chenonceaux,--the -distilled peasant song of the Loire valley. In it many a careworn clown -had tasted the purer happiness of the lowly. Our restraint gave way -under its influence. His Grace lost for the moment his deformities, and -Mr. Fox made us laugh until our sides ached again. His Lordship -told many a capital yarn, and my own wit was afterwards said to be -astonishing, though I can recall none of it to support the affirmation. - -Not a word or even a hint of Dorothy had been uttered, nor did -Chartersea so much as refer to his Covent Garden experience. At length, -when some half dozen of the wine was gone, and the big oak clock had -struck two, the talk lapsed. It was Charles Fox, of course, who threw -the spark into the powder box. - -“We were speaking of hunting, Chartersea,” he said. “Did you ever know -George Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?” - -“No,” said his Grace, very innocent. - -“No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat him -for reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit any -colt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then, -with the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging round -the hall gates. But the old squire had plenty of good hunters in the -stables, and haunches on the board, and a cellar that was like the -widow's cruse of oil, or barrel of meal--or whatever she had. All the -old man had to do to lose a guinea was to lay it on a card. He never -nicked in his life, so they say. Well, young George got after a rich -tea-merchant's daughter who had come into the country near by. 'Slife! -she was a saucy jade, and devilish pretty. Such a face! so Stavordale -vowed, and such a neck! and such eyes! so innocent, so ravishingly -innocent. But she knew cursed well George was after the bank deposit, -and kept him galloping. And when he got a view, halloa, egad! she was -stole away again, and no scent. - -“One morning George was out after the hounds with Stavordale, who told -me the story, and a lot of fellows who had come over from Newmarket. He -was upon Aftermath, the horse that Foley bought for five hundred pounds -and was a colt then. Of course he left the field out of sight behind. He -made for a gap in the park wall (faith! there was no lack of 'em), but -the colt refused, and over went George and plumped into a cart of winter -apples some farmer's sot was taking to Bury Saint Edmunds to market. The -fall knocked the sense out of George, for he hasn't much, and Stavordale -thinks he must have struck a stake as he went in. Anyway, the apples -rolled over on top of him, and the drunkard on the seat never woke up, -i' faith. And so they came to town. - -“It so chanced, egad, that the devil sent Miss Tea Merchant to Bury to -buy apples. She amused herself at playing country gentlewoman while papa -worked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and ate -three (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, and -George with it. 'Pon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. And -the lady said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that since -she had bought him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gads -life! she has got him yet, which is a deal stranger.” - -Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible. -But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to his -Grace's own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Fox -stared vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said something -especially daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, like -boys who have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. There -was a metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke. - -“I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you.” - -“Od's, and so he can!” cried Jack. “I'll take oath on that.” - -“I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord,” says his Grace, very -off-hand, “that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twenty -minutes.” - -“Done!” says Jack, before I could draw breath. - -“I'll take your Grace for another hundred,” calmly added Mr. Fox. - -“It seems to me, your Grace,” I cried, angry all at once, “it seems to -me that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am not -a jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to lose -money.” - -Chartersea swung around my way. - -“Your pardon, Mr. Carvel,” said he, very coolly, very politely; “yours -is the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be called -off.” - -“Slife! I double it!” I said hotly, “provided the horse is alive, and -will stand up.” - -“Devilish well put, Richard!” Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off his -restraint. - -“I give you my word the horse is alive, sir,” he answered, with a mock -bow; “'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead.” - -A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Fox -who spoke first. - -“I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,”--he emphasized -the word forcibly,--“will not refuse to ride the horse for another -twenty minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay your -Grace another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with.” - -Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for a longer -head. He grew livid as he perceived how neatly he had been snared in his -own trap. - -“Done!” he cried loudly; “done, gentlemen. It only remains to hit upon -time and place for the contest. I go to York to-morrow, to be back -this day fortnight. And if you will do me the favour of arranging -with Baltimore for the horse, I shall be obliged. I believe he intends -selling it to Astley, the showman.” - -“And are we to keep it?” asks Mr. Fox. - -“I am dealing with men of honour,” says the duke, with a bow: “I need -have no better assurance that the horse will not be ridden in the -interval.” - -“'Od so!” said Comyn, when we were out; “very handsome of him. But I -would not say as much for his Grace.” - -And Mr. Fox declared that the duke was no coward, but all other epithets -known might be called him. “A very diverting evening, Richard,” said he; -“let's to your apartments and have a bowl, and talk it over.” - -And thither we went. - -I did not sleep much that night, but 'twas of Dolly I thought rather -than of Chartersea. I was abroad early, and over to inquire in Arlington -Street, where I found she had passed a good night. And I sent Banks -a-hooting for some violets to send her, for I knew she loved that -flower. - -Between ten and eleven Mr. Fox and Comyn and I set out for Baltimore -House. When you go to London, my dears, you will find a vast difference -in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury from what it was that May morning -in 1770. Great Russell Street was all a sweet fragrance of gardens, -mingling with the smell of the fields from the open country to the -north. We drove past red Montagu House with its stone facings and dome, -like a French hotel, and the cluster of buildings at its great gate. It -had been then for over a decade the British Museum. The ground behind -it was a great resort for Londoners of that day. Many a sad affair was -fought there, but on that morning we saw a merry party on their way to -play prisoner's base. - -Then we came to the gardens in front of Bedford House, which are now -Bloomsbury Square. For my part I preferred this latter mansion to the -French creation by its side, and admired its long and graceful lines. -Its windows commanded a sweep from Holborn on the south to Highgate on -the north. To the east of it, along Southampton Row, a few great houses -had gone up or were building; and at the far end of that was Baltimore -house, overlooking her Grace of Bedford's gardens. Beyond Lamb's Conduit -Fields stretched away to the countryside. - -I own I had a lively curiosity to see that lordly ruler, the proprietor -of our province, whose birthday we celebrated after his Majesty's. Had -I not been in a great measure prepared, I should have had a revulsion -indeed. - -When he heard that Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn were below stairs he -gave orders to show them up to his bedroom, where he received us in a -night-gown embroidered with oranges. My Lord Baltimore, alas! was not -much to see. He did not make the figure a ruler should as he sat in his -easy chair, and whined and cursed his Swiss. He was scarce a year over -forty, and he had all but run his race. Dissipation and corrosion had -set their seal upon him, had stamped his yellow face with crows' feet -and blotted it with pimples. But then the glimpse of a fine gentleman -just out of bed of a morning, before he is made for the day, is unfair. - -“Morning, Charles! Howdy, Jack!” said his Lordship, apathetically. “Glad -to know you, Mr. Carvel. Heard of your family. 'Slife! Wish there were -more like 'em in the province.” - -This sentiment not sitting very well upon his Lordship, I bowed, and -said nothing. - -“By the bye,” he continued, pouring out his chocolate into the dish, -“I sent a damned rake of a parson out there some years gone. Handsome -devil, too. Never seen his match with the women, egad. 'Od's fish--” - he leered. And then added with an oath and a nod and a vile remark: -“Married three times to my knowledge. Carried off dozen or so more. Some -of 'em for me. Many a good night I've had with him. Drank between us one -evening at Essex's gallon and half Champagne and Burgundy apiece. He got -to know too much, y' know,” he concluded, with a wicked wink. “Had to -buy him up pack him off.” - -“His name, Fred?” said Comyn, with a smile at me. - -“'Sdeath! That's it. Trouble to remember. Damned if I can think.” And he -repeated this remark over and over. - -“Allen?” said Comyn. - -“Yes,” said Baltimore; “Allen. And egad I think he'll find hell a hotter -place than me. You know him, Mr. Carvel?” - -“Yes,” I replied. I said no more. I make no reservations when I avow I -was never so disgusted in my life. But as I looked upon him, haggard -and worn, with retribution so neat at hand, I had no words to protest or -condemn. - -Baltimore gave a hollow mirthless laugh, stopped short, and looked at -Charles Fox. - -“Curse you, Charles! I suppose you are after that little matter I owe -you for quinze.” - -“Damn the little matter!” said Fox. “Come, get you perfumed and dressed, -and order up some of your Tokay while we wait. I have to go to St. -Stephens. Mr. Carvel has come to buy your horse Pollux. He has bet -Chartersea two hundred guineas he rides him for twenty minutes.” - -“The devil he has!” cried his Lordship, jaded no longer. “Why, you must -know, Mr. Carvel, there was no groom in my stables who would sit him -until Foley made me a present of his man, Miller, who started to ride -him to Hyde Park. As he came out of Great Russell Street, by gads life! -the horse broke and ran out the Tottenham Court Road all the way to -Hampstead. And the fiend picked out a big stone water trough and tossed -Miller against it. Then they gathered up the fragments. Damme if I like -to see suicide, Mr. Carvel. If Chartersea wants to kill you, let him try -it in the fields behind Montagu House here.” - -I told his Lordship that I had made the wager, and could not in honour -withdraw, though the horse had killed a dozen grooms. But already he -seemed to have lost interest. He gave a languid pull at the velvet -tassel on his bell-rope, ordered the wine; and, being informed that -his anteroom below was full of people, had them all dismissed with the -message that he was engaged upon important affairs. He told Mr. Fox -he had heard of the Jerusalem Chamber, and vowed he would have a like -institution. He told me he wished the colony of Maryland in hell; that -he was worn out with the quarrels of Governor Eden and his Assembly, and -offered to lay a guinea that the Governor's agent would get to him that -day,--will-he, nill-he. I did not think it worth while to argue with -such a man. - -My Lord took three-quarters of an hour to dress, and swore he had not -accomplished the feat so quickly in a year. He washed his hands and face -in a silver basin, and the scent of the soap filled the room. He rated -his Swiss for putting cinnamon upon his ruffles in place of attar of -roses, and attempted to regale us the while with some of his choicest -adventures. In more than one of these, by the way, his Grace of -Chartersea figured. It was Fox who brought him up. - -“See here, Baltimore,” he said, “I'm not squeamish. But I'm cursed if I -like to hear a man who may die any time between bottles talk so.” - -His Lordship took the rebuke with an oath, and presently hobbled down -the stairs of the great and silent house to the stable court, where -two grooms were in waiting with the horse. He was an animal of amazing -power, about sixteen hands, and dapple gray in colour. And it required -no special knowledge to see that he had a devil inside him. It gleamed -wickedly out of his eye. - -“'Od's life, Richard!” cried Charles, “he has a Jew nose; by all the -seven tribes I bid you 'ware of him.” - -“You have but to ride him with a gold bit, Richard,” said Comyn, “and he -is a kitten, I'll warrant.” - -At that moment Pollux began to rear and kick, so that it took both the -'ostlers to hold him. - -“Show him a sovereign,” suggested Fox. “How do you feel, Richard?” - -“I never feared a horse yet,” I said with perfect truth, “nor do I fear -this one, though I know he may kill me.” - -“I'll lay you twenty pounds you have at least one bone broken, and ten -that you are killed,” Baltimore puts in querulously, from the doorway. - -“I'll do this, my Lord,” I answered. “If I ride him, he is mine. If he -throws me, I give you twenty pounds for him.” - -The gentlemen laughed, and Baltimore vowed he could sell the horse to -Astley for fifty; that Pollux was the son of Renown, of the Duke -of Kingston's stud, and much more. But Charles rallied him out by -a reference to the debt at quinze, and an appeal to his honour as a -sportsman. And swore he was discouraging one of the prettiest encounters -that would take place in England for many a long day. And so the horse -was sent to the stables of the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, and -left there at my order. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. A GLIMPSE OF MR. GARRICK - -Day after day I went to Arlington Street, each time to be turned away -with the same answer: that Miss Manners was a shade better, but still -confined to her bed. You will scarce believe me, my dears, when I say -that Mr. Marmaduke had gone at this crisis with his Grace to the York -races. On the fourth morning, I think, I saw Mrs. Manners. She was much -worn with the vigil she had kept, and received me with an apathy to -frighten me. Her way with me had hitherto always been one of kindness -and warmth. In answer to the dozen questions I showered upon her, she -replied that Dorothy's malady was in no wise dangerous, so Dr. James had -said, and undoubtedly arose out of the excitement of a London season. As -I knew, Dorothy was of the kind that must run and run until she dropped. -She had no notion of the measure of her own strength. Mrs. Manners hoped -that, in a fortnight, she would be recovered sufficiently to be removed -to one of the baths. - -“She wishes me to thank you for the flowers, Richard. She has them -constantly by her. And bids me tell you how sorry she is that she is -compelled to miss so much of your visit to England. Are you enjoying -London, Richard? I hear that you are well liked by the best of company.” - -I left, prodigiously cast down, and went directly to Mr. Wedgwood's, to -choose the prettiest set of tea-cups and dishes I could find there. I -pitied Mrs. Manners from my heart, and made every allowance for her talk -with me, knowing the sorrow of her life. Here was yet another link -in the chain of the Chartersea evidence. And I made no doubt that -Mr. Manner's brutal desertion at such a time must be hard to bear. I -continued my visits of inquiry, nearly always meeting some person of -consequence, or the footman of such, come on the same errand as myself. -And once I encountered the young man she had championed against his -Grace at Lady Tankerville's. - -Rather than face the array of anxieties that beset me, I plunged -recklessly into the gayeties--nay, the excesses--of Mr. Charles Fox and -his associates. I paid, in truth, a very high price for my friendship -with Mr. Fox. But, since it did not quite ruin me, I look back upon -it as cheaply bought. To know the man well, to be the subject of his -regard, was to feel an infatuation in common with the little band of -worshippers which had come with him from Eton. They remained faithful to -him all his days, nor adversity nor change of opinion could shake their -attachment. They knew his faults, deplored them, and paid for them. And -this was not beyond my comprehension, tho' many have wondered at it. Did -he ask me for five hundred pounds,--which he did,--I gave it freely, and -would gladly have given more, tho' I saw it all wasted in a night when -the dice rolled against him. For those honoured few of whom I speak -likewise knew his virtues, which were quite as large as the faults, -albeit so mingled with them that all might not distinguish. - -I attended some of the routs and parties, to all of which, as a young -colonial gentleman of wealth and family, I was made welcome. I went to -a ball at Lord Stanley's, a mixture of French horns and clarionets and -coloured glass lanthorns and candles in gilt vases, and young ladies -pouring tea in white, and musicians in red, and draperies and flowers ad -libitum. There I met Mr. Walpole, looking on very critically. He was -the essence of friendliness, asked after my equerry, and said I had -done well to ship him to America. At the opera, with Lord Ossory and -Mr. Fitzpatrick, I talked through the round of the boxes, from Lady -Pembroke's on the right to Lady Hervey's on the left, where Dolly's -illness and Lady Harrington's snuffing gabble were the topics rather -than Giardini's fiddling. Mr. Storer took me to Foote's dressing-room -at the Haymarket, where we found the Duke of Cumberland lounging. I was -presented, and thought his Royal Highness had far less dignity than the -monkey-comedian we had come to see. - -I must not forget the visit I made to Drury Lane Playhouse with my Lords -Carlisle and Grantham and Comyn. The great actor received me graciously -in such a company, you may be sure. He appeared much smaller off the -boards than on, and his actions and speech were quick and nervous. Gast, -his hairdresser, was making him up for the character of Richard III. - -“'Ods!” said Mr. Garrick, “your Lordships come five minutes too late. -Goldsmith is but just gone hence, fresh from his tailor, Filby, of Water -Lane. The most gorgeous creature in London, gentlemen, I'll be sworn. -He is even now, so he would have me know, gone by invitation to my Lord -Denbigh's box, to ogle the ladies.” - -“And have you seen your latest lampoon, Mr. Garrick?” asks Comyn, -winking at me. - -Up leaps Mr. Garrick, so suddenly as to knock the paint-pot from Gast's -hand. - -“Nay, your Lordship jests, surely!” he cried, his voice shaking. - -“Jests!” says my Lord, very serious; “do I jest, Carlisle?” And turning -to Mr. Cross, the prompter, who stood by, “Fetch me the St. James's -Evening Post,” says he. - -“'Ods my life!” continues poor Garrick, almost in tears; “I have loaned -Foote upwards of two thousand pounds. And last year, as your Lordship -remembers, took charge of his theatre when his leg was cut off. 'Pon my -soul, I cannot account for his ingratitude.” - -“'Tis not Foote,” says Carlisle, biting his lip; “I know Foote's mark.” - -“Then Johnson,” says the actor, “because I would not let him have my -fine books in his dirty den to be kicked about the floor, but put my -library at his disposal--” - -“Nay, nor Johnson. Nor yet Macklin nor Murphy.” - -“Surely not--” cries Mr. Garrick, turning white under the rouge. The -name remained unpronounced. - -“Ay, ay, Junius, in the Evening Post. He has fastened upon you at last,” - answers Comyn, taking the paper. - -“'Sdeath! Garrick,” Carlisle puts in, very solemn, “what have you -done to offend the Terrible Unknown? Talebearing to his Majesty, I'll -warrant! I gave you credit for more discretion.” - -At these words Mr. Garrick seized the chair for support, and swung -heavily into it. Whereat the young lords burst into such a tempest of -laughter that I could not refrain from joining them. As for Mr. Garrick, -he was so pleased to have escaped that he laughed too, though with a -palpable nervousness. - - [Note by the editor. It was not long after this that Mr. Garrick's - punishment came, and for the self-same offence.] - -“By the bye, Garrick,” Carlisle remarked slyly, when he had recovered, -“Mrs. Crewe was vastly taken with the last 'vers' you left on her -dressing-table.” - -“Was she, now, my Lord?” said the great actor, delighted, but scarce -over his fright. “You must know that I have writ one to my Lady -Carlisle, on the occasion of her dropping her fan in Piccadilly.” - Whereupon he proceeded to recite it, and my Lord Carlisle, being -something of a poet himself, pronounced it excellent. - -Mr. Garrick asked me many questions concerning American life and -manners, having a play in his repertory the scene of which was laid in -New York. In the midst of this we were interrupted by a dirty fellow who -ran in, crying excitedly: - -“Sir, the Archbishop of York is getting drunk at the Bear, and swears -he'll be d--d if he'll act to-night.” - -“The archbishop may go to the devil!” snapped Mr. Garrick. “I do not -know a greater rascal, except yourself.” - -I was little short of thunderstruck. But presently Mr. Garrick added -complainingly: - -“I paid a guinea for the archbishop, but the fellow got me three -murderers to-day and the best alderman I ever clapped eyes upon. So we -are square.” - -After the play we supped with him at his new house in Adelphi Terrace, -next Topham Beauclerk's. 'Twas handsomely built in the Italian style, -and newly furnished throughout, for Mr. Garrick travelled now with a -coach and six and four menservants, forsooth. And amongst other things -he took pride in showing us that night was a handsome snuffbox which the -King of Denmark had given him the year before, his Majesty's portrait -set in jewels thereon. - -Presently the news of the trial of Lord Baltimore's horse began to be -noised about, and was followed by a deluge of wagers at Brooks's and -White's and elsewhere. Comyn and Fox, my chief supporters, laid large -sums upon me, despite all my persuasion. But the most unpleasant part -of the publicity was the rumour that the match was connected with the -struggle for Miss Manners's hand. I was pressed with invitations to -go into the country to ride this or that horse. His Grace the Duke of -Grafton had a mount he would have me try at Wakefield Lodge, and was far -from pleasant over my refusal of his invitation. I was besieged by young -noblemen like Lord Derby and Lord Foley, until I was heartily sick of -notoriety, and cursed the indiscretion of the person who let out the -news, and my own likewise. My Lord March, who did me the honour to lay -one hundred pounds upon my skill, insisted that I should make one of a -party to the famous amphitheatre near Lambeth. Mr. Astley, the showman, -being informed of his Lordship's intention, met us on Westminster Bridge -dressed in his uniform as sergeant major of the Royal Light Dragoons -and mounted on a white charger. He escorted us to one of the large boxes -under the pent-house reserved for the gentry. And when the show was over -and the place cleared, begged, that I would ride his Indian Chief. I -refused; but March pressed me, and Comyn declared he had staked his -reputation upon my horsemanship. Astley was a large man, about my build, -and I donned a pair of his leather breeches and boots, and put Indian -Chief to his paces around the ring. I found him no more restive, nor as -much so, as Firefly. The gentlemen were good enough to clap me roundly, -and Astley vowed (no doubt because of the noble patrons present) that he -had never seen a better seat. - -We all repaired afterwards for supper to Don Saltero's Coffee House and -Museum in Chelsea. And I remembered having heard my grandfather speak of -the place, and tell how he had seen Sir Richard Steele there, listening -to the Don scraping away at the “Merry Christ Church Bells” on his -fiddle. The Don was since dead, but King James's coronation sword and -King Henry VIII.'s coat of mail still hung on the walls. - -The remembrance of that fortnight has ever been an appalling one. -Mr. Carvel had never attempted to teach me the value of money. My -grandfather, indeed, held but four things essential to the conduct of -life; namely, to fear God, love the King, pay your debts, and pursue -your enemies. There was no one in London to advise me, Comyn being but a -wild lad like myself. But my Lord Carlisle gave me a friendly warning: - -“Have a care, Carvel,” said he, kindly, “or you will run your -grandfather through, and all your relations beside. I little realized -the danger of it when I first came up.” (He was not above two and twenty -then.) “And now I have a wife, am more crippled than I care to be, -thanks to this devilish high play. Will you dine with Lady Carlisle in -St. James's Place next Friday?” - -My heart went out to this young nobleman. Handsome he was, as a picture. -And he knew better than most of your fine gentlemen how to put a check -on his inclinations. As a friend he had few equals, his purse being ever -at the command of those he loved. And his privations on Fox's account -were already greater than many knew. - -I had a call, too, from Mr. Dix. I found him in my parlour one morning, -cringing and smiling, and, as usual, half an hour away from his point. - -“I warrant you, Mr. Carvel,” says he, “there are few young gentlemen not -born among the elect that make the great friends you are blessed with.” - -“I have been fortunate, Mr. Dix,” I replied dryly. - -“Fortunate!” he cried; “good Lord, sir! I hear of you everywhere with -Mr. Fox, and you have been to Astley's with my Lord March. And I have a -draft from you at Ampthill.” - -“Vastly well manoeuvred, Mr. Dix,” I said, laughing at the guilty change -in his pink complexion. “And hence you are here.” - -He fidgeted, and seeing that I paid him no attention, but went on with -my chocolate, he drew a paper from his pocket and opened it. - -“You have spent a prodigious sum, sir, for so short a time,” said he, -unsteadily. “'Tis very well for you, Mr. Carvel, but I have to remember -that you are heir only. I am advancing you money without advices from -his Worship, your grandfather. A most irregular proceeding, sir, and one -likely to lead me to trouble. I know not what your allowance may be.” - -“Nor I, Mr. Dix,” I replied, unreasonably enough. “To speak truth, I -have never had one. You have my Lord Comyn's signature to protect you,” - I went on ill-naturedly, for I had not had enough sleep. “And in case -Mr. Carvel protests, which is unlikely and preposterous, you shall have -ten percentum on your money until I can pay you. That should be no poor -investment.” - -He apologized. But he smoothed out the paper on his knee. - -“It is only right to tell you, Mr. Carvel, that you have spent one -thousand eight hundred and thirty-seven odd pounds, in home money, which -is worth more than your colonial. Your grandfather's balance with me -was something less than one thousand five hundred, as I made him a -remittance in December last. I have advanced the rest. And yesterday,” - he went on, resolutely for him, “yesterday I got an order for five -hundred more.” - -And he handed me the paper. I must own that the figures startled me. I -laid it down with a fine show of indifference. - -“And so you wish me to stop drawing? Very good, Mr. Dix.” - -He must have seen some threat implied, though I meant none. He was my -very humble servant at once, and declared he had called only to let me -know where I stood. Then he bowed himself out, wishing me luck with the -horse he had heard of, and I lighted my pipe with his accompt. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SERPENTINE - -Whether it was Mr. Dix. that started me reflecting, or my Lord -Carlisle's warning, or a few discreet words from young Lady Carlisle -herself, I know not. At all events, I made a resolution to stop -high play, and confine myself to whist and quinze and picquet. For -I conceived a notion, enlarged by Mr. Fox, that I had more than once -fallen into the tender clutches of the hounds. I was so reflecting -the morning following Lord Carlisle's dinner, when Banks announced a -footman. - -“Mr. Manners's man, sir,” he added significantly, and handed me a little -note. I seized it, and, to hide my emotion, told him to give the man his -beer. - -The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the -wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. - -“So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into -Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never -Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir. One Matter I have -herd that I am Most Concerned about, & I pray you, my Dear Richard do -not allow y'r Recklessness & Contemt for Danger to betray you into a -Stil more Amazing Follie or I shall be very Miserable Indeed. I have -Hopes that the Report is at Best a Rumour & you must sit down & write me -that it is Sir that my Minde may be set at Rest. I fear for you Vastly -& I beg you not Riske y'r Life Foolishly & this for the Sake of one who -subscribes herself y'r Old Playmate & Well-Wisher Dolly. - -“P.S. I have writ Sir Jon Fielding to put you in the Marshallsee or New -Gate until Mr. Carvel can be tolde. I am Better & hope soon to see you -agen & have been informed of y'r Dayly Visitts & y'r Flowers are beside -me. D. M.” - - -In about an hour and a half, Mr. Marmaduke's footman was on his way back -to Arlington Street in a condition not to be lightly spoken of. During -that period I had committed an hundred silly acts, and incidentally -learned the letter by heart. I was much distressed to think that she had -heard of the affair of the horse, and more so to surmise that the gossip -which clung to it must also have reached her. But I fear I thought most -of her anxiety concerning me, which reflection caused my hand to shake -from very happiness. “Y'r Flowers are beside me,” and, “I beg you not -Riske y'r Life Foolishly,” and “I shall be very Miserable Indeed” But -then: “Y'r Old Plamate & Well Wisher”! Nay, she was inscrutable as ever. - -And my reply,--what was that to be? How I composed it in the state of -mind I was in, I have no conception to this day. The chimney was clogged -with papers ere (in a spelling to vie with Dolly's) I had set down my -devotion, my undying devotion, to her interests. I asked forgiveness for -my cruelty on that memorable morning I had last seen her. But even -to allude to the bet with Chartersea was beyond my powers; and as for -renouncing it, though for her sake,--that was not to be thought of. -The high play I readily promised to avoid in the future, and I signed -myself,--well, it matters not after seventy years. - -The same day, Tuesday, I received a letter from his Grace of Chartersea -saying that he looked to reach London that night, but very late. He -begged that Mr. Fox and Lord Comyn and I would sup with him at the Star -and Garter at eleven, to fix matters for the trial on the morrow. Mr. -Fox could not go, but Comyn and I went to the inn, having first attended -“The Tempest” at Drury Lane with Lady Di and Mr. Beauclerk. - -We found his Grace awaiting us in a private room, with Captain Lewis, -of the 60th Foot, who had figured as a second in the duel with young -Atwater. The captain was a rake and a bully and a toadeater, of course, -with a loud and profane tongue, and he had had a bottle too many in the -duke's travelling-coach. There was likewise a Sir John Brooke, a country -neighbour of his Grace in Nottinghamshire. Sir John apparently had no -business in such company. He was a hearty, fox-hunting squire who had -seen little of London; a three-bottle man who told a foul story and went -asleep immediately afterwards. Much to my disappointment, Mr. Manners -had gone to Arlington Street direct. I had longed for a chance to speak -a little of my mind to him. - -This meeting, which I shall not take the time to recount, was near to -ending in an open breach of negotiations. His Grace had lost money -at York, and more to Lewis on the way to London. He was in one of his -vicious humours. He insisted that Hyde Park should be the place of the -contest. In vain did Comyn and I plead for some less public spot on -account of the disagreeable advertisement the matter had received. His -Grace would be damned before he would yield; and Lewis, adding a more -forcible contingency, hinted that our side feared a public trial. Comyn -presently shut him up. - -“Do you ride the horse after his Grace is thrown,” says he, “and I -agree to get on after and he does not kill you. 'Sdeath! I am not of the -army,” adds my Lord, cuttingly; “I am a seaman, and not supposed to know -a stirrup from a snaffle.” - -“'Od's blood!” yelled the captain, “you question my horsemanship, my -Lord? Do I understand your Lordship to question my courage?” - -“After I am thrown!” cries his Grace, very ugly, and fingering the -jewels on his hilt. - -Sir John was awakened by the noise, and turning heavily spilled the -whole of a pint of port on the duke's satin waist coat and breeches. -Whereat Chartersea in a rage flung the bottle at his head with a curse, -which it seems was a habit with his Grace. But the servants coming in, -headed by my old friend the chamberlain, they quieted down. And it was -presently agreed that the horse was to be at noon in the King's Old -Road, or Rotten Row (as it was then beginning to be called), in Hyde -Park. - -I shall carry to the grave the memory of the next day. I was up betimes, -and over to the White Horse Cellar to see Pollux groomed, where I found -a crowd about the opening into the stable court. “The young American!” - called some one, and to my astonishment and no small annoyance I was -greeted with a “Huzzay for you, sir!” “My groat's on your honour!” - -This good-will was owing wholly to the duke's unpopularity with all -classes. Inside, sporting gentlemen in hunting-frocks of red and green, -and velvet visored caps, were shouldering favoured 'ostlers from the -different noblemen's stables; and there was a liberal sprinkling of the -characters who attended the cock mains in Drury Lane and at Newmarket. -At the moment of my arrival the head 'ostler was rubbing down the -stallion's flank. - -“Here's ten pounds to ride him, Saunders!” called one of the -hunting-frocks. - -“Umph!” sniffed the 'ostler; “ride 'im is it, yere honour? Two hunner -beast eno', an' a Portugal crown i' th' boot. Sooner take me chaunces o' -Tyburn on 'Ounslow 'Eath. An' Miller waurna able to sit 'im, 'tis no for -th' likes o' me to try. Th' bloody devil took th' shirt off Teddy's back -this morn. I adwises th' young Buckskin t' order 's coffin.” Just -then he perceived me, and touched his cap, something abashed. “With -submission, sir, y'r honour'll take an old man's adwise an' not go near -'im.” - -Pollux's appearance, indeed, was not calculated to reassure me. He -looked ugly to exaggeration, his ears laid back and his nostrils as big -as crowns, and his teeth bared time and time. Now and anon an impatient -fling of his hoof would make the grooms start away from him. Since -coming to the inn he had been walked a couple of miles each day, with -two men with loaded whips to control him. I was being offered a deal -of counsel, when big Mr. Astley came in from Lambeth, and silenced them -all. - -“These grooms, Mr. Carvel,” he said to me, as we took a bottle in -private inside, “these grooms are the very devil for superstition. And -once a horse gets a bad name with them, good-by to him. Miller knew -how to ride, of course, but like many another of them, was too damned -over-confident. I warned him more than once for getting young horses -into a fret, and I'm willing to lay a ten-pound note that he angered -Pollux. 'Od's life! He is a vicious beast. So was his father, Culloden, -before him. But here's luck to you, sir!” says Mr. Astley, tipping -his glass; “having seen you ride, egad! I have put all the money I can -afford in your favour.” - -Before I left him he had given me several valuable hints as to the -manner of managing that kind of a horse: not to auger him with the spurs -unless it became plain that he meant to kill me; to try persuasion -first and force afterwards; and secondly, he taught me a little trick of -twisting the bit which I have since found very useful. - -Leaving the White Horse, I was followed into Piccadilly by the crowd, -until I was forced to take refuge in a hackney chaise. The noise of the -affair had got around town, and I was heartily sorry I had not taken the -other and better method of trying conclusions with the duke, and slapped -his face. I found Jack Comyn in Dover Street, and presently Mr. Fox came -for us with his chestnuts in his chaise, Fitzpatrick with him. At Hyde -Park Corner there was quite a jam of coaches, chaises, and cabriolets -and beribboned phaetons, which made way for us, but kept us busy bowing -as we passed among them. It seemed as if everybody of consequence that -I had met in London was gathered there. One face I missed, and rejoiced -that she was absent, for I had a degraded feeling like that of being the -favourite in a cudgel-bout. And the thought that her name was connected -with all this made my face twitch. I heard the people clapping and saw -them waving in the carriages as we passed, and some stood forward before -the rest in a haphazard way, without rhyme or reason. Mr. Walpole with -Lady Di Beauclerk, and Mr. Storer and Mr. Price and Colonel St. John, -and Lord and Lady Carlisle and Lady Ossory. These I recognized. Inside, -the railing along the row was lined with people. And there stood Pollux, -bridled, with a blanket thrown over his great back and chest, surrounded -still by the hunting-frocks, who had followed him from the White Horse. -Mixed in with these, swearing, conjecturing, and betting, were some to -surprise me, whose names were connected with every track in England: the -Duke of Grafton and my Lords Sandwich and March and Bolingbroke, and -Sir Charles Bunbury, and young Lords Derby and Foley, who, after -establishing separate names for folly on the tracks, went into -partnership. My Lord Baltimore descended listlessly from his cabriolet -to join the group. They all sang out when they caught sight of our -party, and greeted me with a zeal to carry me off my feet. And my Lord -Sandwich, having done me the honour to lay something very handsome upon -me, had his chief jockey on hand to give me some final advice. I believe -I was the coolest of any of them. And at that time of all others the -fact came up to me with irresistible humour that I, a young colonial -Whig, who had grown up to detest these people, should be rubbing noses -with them. - -The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay -gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted. As -a most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was -held, he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March -and Sandwich. And it fell to me to champion these. After some discussion -between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire. His Lordship -took his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater -from his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,--the -terms, as he said, being private. - -“Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?” he asked. - -“I am, my Lord,” I answered. The bells were pealing noon. - -“Then mount, sir,” said he. - -The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long -forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake. My -breath began to come quickly. Through the sunny haze I saw the cows -and deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye -handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate. They took -the blanket off the stallion. Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he -looked brutal indeed. The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel -livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky “God keep you, sir!” - Suddenly I was up. The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a -peaceful farm in Devonshire. The grooms let go of the stallion's head. - -He stood trembling like the throes of death. I gripped my knees as -Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force -impelled me to look aside. From between the broad and hunching shoulders -of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to -freeze his prey. Cattle--fish! The word kept running over my tongue. -I thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and -were soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy. She had begged me not to ride, -and I was risking a life which might save hers. - -The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at -once. The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver -blur. The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell. Fainter and -fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, -and the leaps grew longer and longer. Then my head was cleared like a -steamed window-pane in a cold blast. I saw the road curve in front of -me, I put all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle -was swept into the busy Kensington Road. For the first time I knew what -it was to fear a horse. The stallion's neck was stretched, his shoes -rang on the cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between -carriages coming together. In a flash I understood why the duke had -insisted upon Hyde Park, and that nerved me some. I saw the frightened -coachmen pulling their horses this way and that, I heard the cries of -the foot-passengers, and then I was through, I know not how. Once more -I summoned all my power, recalled the twist Astley had spoken of, and -tried it. I bent his neck for an inch of rein. Next I got another inch, -and then came a taste--the smallest taste--of mastery like elixir. The -motion changed with it, became rougher, and the hoof-beats a fraction -less frequent. He steered like a ship with sail reduced. In and out we -dodged among the wagons, and I was beginning to think I had him, when -suddenly, without a move of warning, he came down rigid with his feet -planted together, and only a miracle and my tight grip restrained me -from shooting over his head. There he stood shaking and snorting, nor -any persuasion would move him. I resorted at last to the spurs. - -He was up in the air in an instant, and came down across the road. Again -I dug in to the rowels, and clung the tighter, and this time he landed -with his head to London. A little knot of people had collected to watch -me, and out stepped a strapping fellow in the King's scarlet, from the -Guard's Horse near by. - -“Hold him, sir!” he said, tipping. “Better dismount, sir. He means -murder, y'r honour.” - -“Keep clear, curse you!” I cried, waving him off. “What time is it?” - -He stepped back, no doubt thinking me mad. Some one spoke up and said it -was five minutes past noon. I had the grace to thank him, I believe. -To my astonishment I had been gone but four minutes; they had seemed -twenty. Looking about me, I found I was in the open space before old -Kensington Church, over against the archway there. Once more I dug in -the spurs, this time with success. Almost at a jump the beast took me -into the angle of posts to the east of the churchyard gate and tore up -the footpath of Church Lane, terrified men and women ahead of me taking -to the kennel. He ran irregularly, now on the side of the posts, now -against the bricks, and then I gave myself up. - -Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr. -Dulany speak of. I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the -stallion's jaw and released his mouth altogether. Incredible as it may -seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing -his head like fury, and sweating at every pore. I leaned over and patted -him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the -dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and -into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church. Without -pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I -started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me. I -understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon -with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and -a light hand. - -Before I gained the Life Guard's House I met a dozen horsemen, amongst -them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me, -Colonel St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I -was not dead. Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his -losses to see me safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed -he would give a dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered -that he was damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's -chance of being killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the -King's New Road to avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to -Hyde Park Corner, and in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there -was enough cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the -most exacting of successful generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and -finding there was a minute yet to run I went up the Row a distance and -back again amidst more huzzaing, Pollux prancing and quivering, and -frothing his bit, but never once attempting to break. - -When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce -breathe, crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox -vowed he had never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things -which the duke must have overheard.... Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose -for my buttonhole by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my -Lord March, desired to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen -of port upon me, which he had set his best cassock against. My Lord -Sandwich offered me snuff, and invited me to Hichinbroke. Indeed, I -should never be through were I to continue. But I must not forget my old -acquaintance Mr. Walpole, who protested that he must get permission to -present me to Princess Amelia: that her Royal Highness would not rest -content now, until she had seen me. I did not then know her Highness's -sporting propensity. - -Then my Lord March called upon the duke, who stood in the midst of -an army of his toadeaters. I almost pitied him then, tho' I could not -account for the feeling. I think it was because a nobleman with so great -a title should be so cordially hated and despised. There were high words -along the railing among the duke's supporters, Captain Lewis, in his -anger, going above an inference that the stallion had been broken -privately. Chartersea came forward with an indifferent swagger, as if to -say as much: and, in truth, no one looked for more sport, and some -were even turning away. He had scarce put foot to the stirrup, when -the surprise came. Two minutes were up before he was got in the saddle, -Pollux rearing and plunging and dancing in a circle, the grooms shouting -and dodging, and his Grace cursing in a voice to wake the dead and Mr. -Fox laughing, and making small wagers that he would never be mounted. -But at last the duke was up and gripped, his face bloody red, giving -vent to his fury with the spurs. - -Then something happened, and so quickly that it cannot be writ fast -enough. Pollux bolted like a shot out of a sling, vaulted the railing as -easily as you or I would hop over a stick, and galloping across the lawn -and down the embankment flung his Grace into the Serpentine. Precisely, -as Mr. Fox afterwards remarked, as the swine with the evil spirits ran -down the slope into the sea. - -An indescribable bedlam of confusion followed, lords and gentlemen, -tradesmen and grooms, hostlers and apprentices, all tumbling after, many -crying with laughter. My Lord Sandwich's jockey pulled his Grace from -the water in a most pitiable state of rage and humiliation. His side -curls gone, the powder and pomatum washed from his hair, bedraggled and -muddy and sputtering oaths, he made his way to Lord March, swearing by -all divine that a trick was put on him, that he would ride the stallion -to Land's End. His Lordship, pulling his face straight, gravely informed -the duke that the match was over. With this his Grace fell flatly -sullen, was pushed into a coach by Sir John and the captain, and drove -rapidly off Kensington way, to avoid the people at the corner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN WHICH I AM ROUNDLY BROUGHT TO TASK - -I would have gone to Arlington Street direct, but my friends had no -notion of letting me escape. They carried me off to Brooks's Club, where -a bowl of punch was brewed directly, and my health was drunk to three -times three. Mr. Storer commanded a turtle dinner in my honour. We were -not many, fortunately,--only Mr. Fox's little coterie. And it was none -other than Mr. Fox who made the speech of the evening. “May I be strung -as high as Haman,” said he, amid a tempest of laughter, “if ever I saw -half so edifying a sight as his Grace pitching into the Serpentine, -unless it were his Grace dragged out again. Mr. Carvel's advent has been -a Godsend to us narrow ignoramuses of this island, gentlemen. To the -Englishmen of our colonies, sirs, and that we may never underrate or -misunderstand them more!” - -“Nay, Charles,” cried my Lord Comyn. “Where is our gallantry? I give you -first the Englishwomen of our colonies, and in particular the pride of -Maryland, who has brought back to the old country all the graces of the -new,--Miss Manners.” - -His voice was drowned by a deafening shout, and we charged our glasses -to drain them brimming. And then we all went to Drury Lane to see Mrs. -Clive romp through 'The Wonder' in the spirit of the “immortal Peg.” She -spoke an epilogue that Mr. Walpole had writ especial for her, and -made some witty and sarcastic remarks directed at the gentlemen in our -stagebox. We topped off a very full day by a supper at the Bedford Arms, -where I must draw the certain. - -The next morning I was abed at an hour which the sobriety of old age -makes me blush abed think of. Banks had just concluded a discreet -discourse upon my accomplishment of the day before, and had left for -my newspapers, when he came running back with the information that Miss -Manners would see my honour that day. There was no note. Between us -we made my toilet in a jiffy, and presently I was walking in at the -Manners's door in an amazing hurry, and scarcely waited for a direction. -But as I ran up the stairs, I heard the tinkle of the spinet, and the -notes of an old, familiar tune fell upon my ears. The words rose in my -head with the cadence. - - “Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song, - Love that is too hot and strong - Runneth soon to waste.” - -That simple air, already mellowed by an hundred years, had always been -her favourite. She used to sing it softly to herself as we roamed the -woods and fields of the Eastern Shore. Instinctively I paused at the -dressing-room door. Nay, my dears, you need not cry out, such was the -custom of the times. A dainty bower it was, filled with the perfume of -flowers, and rosy cupids disporting on the ceiling; and china and silver -and gold filigree strewn about, with my tea-cups on the table. The -sunlight fell like a halo round Dorothy's head, her hands strayed over -the keys, and her eyes were far away. She had not heard me. I remember -her dress,--a silk with blue cornflowers on a light ground, and the -flimsiest of lace caps resting on her hair. I thought her face paler; -but beyond that she did not show her illness. - -She looked up, and perceived me, I thought, with a start. “So it is -you!” she said demurely enough; “you are come at last to give an account -of yourself.” - -“Are you better, Dorothy?” I asked earnestly. - -“Why should you think that I have been ill?” she replied, her fingers -going back to the spinet. “It is a mistake, sir. Dr. James has given -me near a gross of his infamous powders, and is now exploiting another -cure. I have been resting from the fatigues of London, while you have -been wearing yourself out.” - -“Dr. James himself told me your condition was serious,” I said. - -“Of course,” said she; “the worse the disease, the more remarkable the -cure, the more sought after the physician. When will you get over your -provincial simplicity?” - -I saw there was nothing to be got out of her while in this baffling -humour. I wondered what devil impelled a woman to write one way and talk -another. In her note to me she had confessed her illness. The words -I had formed to say to her were tied on my tongue. But on the whole I -congratulated myself. She knew how to step better than I, and there were -many awkward things between us of late best not spoken of. But she kept -me standing an unconscionable time without a word, which on the whole -was cruelty, while she played over some of Dibdin's ballads. - -“Are you in a hurry, sir,” she asked at length, turning on me with -a smile, “are you in a hurry to join my Lord March or his Grace of -Grafton? And have you writ Captain Clapsaddle and your Whig friends at -home of your new intimacies, of Mr. Fox and my Lord Sandwich?” - -I was dumb. - -“Yes, you must be wishing to get away,” she continued cruelly, picking -up the newspaper. “I had forgotten this notice. When I saw it this -morning I thought of you, and despaired of a glimpse of you to-day.” - (Reading.) “At the Three Hats, Islington, this day, the 10th of May, -will be played a grand match at that ancient and much renowned manly -diversion called Double Stick by a sect of chosen young men at that -exercise from different parts of the West Country, for two guineas given -free; those who break the most heads to bear away the prize. Before the -above-mentioned diversion begins, Mr. Sampson and his young German will -display alternately on one, two, and three horses, various surprising -and curious feats of famous horsemanship in like manner as at the Grand -Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon. Admittance one shilling each person.' -Before you leave, Mr. Richard,” she continued, with her eyes still on -the sheet, “I should like to talk over one or two little matters.” - -“Dolly--!” - -“Will you sit, sir?” - -I sat down uneasily, expecting the worst. She disappointed me, as usual. - -“What an unspeakable place must you keep in Dover Street! I cannot send -even a footman there but what he comes back reeling.” - -I had to laugh at this. But there was no smile out of my lady. - -“It took me near an hour and a half to answer your note,” I replied. - -“And 'twas a masterpiece!” exclaimed Dolly, with withering sarcasm; -“oh, a most amazing masterpiece, I'll be bound! His worship the French -Ambassador is a kitten at diplomacy beside you, sir. An hour and a half, -did you say, sir? Gemini, the Secretary of State and his whole corps -could not have composed the like in a day.” - -“Faith!” I cried, with feeling enough; “and if that is diplomacy, I -would rather make leather breeches than be given an embassy.” - -She fixed her eyes upon me so disconcertingly that mine fell. - -“There was a time,” she said, with a change of tone, “there was a time -when a request of mine, and it were not granted outright, would have -received some attention. This is my first experience at being ignored.” - -“I had made a wager,” said I, “and could not retract with honour.” - -“So you had made a wager! Now we are to have some news at last. How -stupid of you, Richard, not to tell me before. I confess I wonder what -these wits find in your company. Here am I who have seen naught but dull -women for a fortnight, and you have failed to say anything amusing in a -quarter of an hour. Let us hear about the wager.” - -“Where is little to tell,” I answered shortly, considerably piqued. “I -bet your friend, the Duke of Chartersea, some hundreds of pounds I could -ride Lord Baltimore's Pollux for twenty minutes, after which his Grace -was to get on and ride twenty more.” - -“Where did you see the duke?” Dolly interrupted, without much show of -interest. - -I explained how we had met him at Brooks's, and had gone to his house. - -“You went to his house?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows a trifle; -“and Comyn and Mr. Fox? And pray, how did this pretty subject come up?” - -I related, very badly, I fear, Fox's story of young Wrottlesey and the -tea-merchant's daughter. And what does my lady do but get up and turn -her back, arranging some pinks in the window. I could have sworn she was -laughing, had I not known better. - -“Well?” - -“Well, that was a reference to a little pleasantry Mr. Fox had put up -on him some time before. His Grace flared, but tried not to show it. He -said he had heard I could do something with a horse (I believe he made -it up), and Comyn gave oath that I could; and then he offered to bet -Comyn that I could not ride this Pollux, who had killed his groom. -That made me angry, and I told the duke I was no jockey to be put up to -decide wagers, and that he must make his offers to me.” - -“La!” said Dolly, “you fell in head over heels.” - -“What do you mean by that?” I demanded. - -“Nothing,” said she, biting her lip. “Come, you are as ponderous as Dr. -Johnson.” - -“Then Mr. Fox proposed that his Grace should ride after me.” - -Here Dolly laughed in her handkerchief. - -“I'll be bound,” said she. - -“Then the duke went to York,” I continued hurriedly; and when he came -back we met him at the Star and Garter. He insisted that the match -should come off in Hyde Park. I should have preferred the open roads -north of Bedford House.” - -“Where there is no Serpentine,” she interrupted, with the faintest -suspicion of a twinkle about her eyes. “On, sir, on! You are as -reluctant as our pump at Wilmot House in the dry season. I see you were -not killed, as you richly deserved. Let us have the rest of your tale.” - -“There is very little more to it, save that I contrived to master the -beast, and his Grace--” - -“--Was disgraced. A vastly fine achievement, surely. But where are you -to stop? You will be shaming the King next by outwalking him. Pray, how -did the duke appear as he was going into the Serpentine?” - -“You have heard?” I exclaimed, the trick she had played me dawning upon -me. - -“Upon my word, Richard, you are more of a simpleton than I thought you. -Have you not seen your newspaper this morning?” - -I explained how it was that I had not. She took up the Chronicle. - -“'This Mr. Carvel has made no inconsiderable noise since his arrival -in town, and yesterday crowned his performances by defeating publicly -a noble duke at a riding match in Hyde Park, before half the quality of -the kingdom. His Lordship of March and Ruglen acted as umpire.' There, -sir, was I not right to beg Sir John Fielding to put you in safe keeping -until your grandfather can send for you?” - -I made to seize the paper, but she held it from me. - -“'If Mr. Carvel remains long enough in England, he bids fair to share -the talk of Mayfair with a certain honourable young gentleman of -Brooks's and the Admiralty, whose debts and doings now furnish most -of the gossip for the clubs and the card tables. Their names are both -connected with this contest. 'Tis whispered that the wager upon which -the match was ridden arose--'” here Dolly stopped shortly, her colour -mounting, and cried out with a stamp of her foot. “You are not content -to bring publicity upon yourself, who deserve it, but must needs drag -innocent names into the newspapers.” - -“What have they said?” I demanded, ready to roll every printer in London -in the kennel. - -“Nay, you may read for yourself,” said she. And, flinging the paper in -my lap, left the room. - -They had not said much more, Heaven be praised. But I was angry and -mortified as I had never been before, realizing for the first time -what a botch I had made of my stay in London. In great dejection, I was -picking up my hat to leave the house, when Mrs. Manners came in upon -me, and insisted that I should stay for dinner. She was very white, and -seemed troubled and preoccupied, and said that Mr. Manners had come back -from York with a cold on his chest, but would insist upon joining the -party to Vauxhall on Monday. I asked her when she was going to the -baths, and suggested that the change would do her good. Indeed, she -looked badly. - -“We are not going, Richard,” she replied; “Dorothy will not hear of -it. In spite of the doctor she says she is not ill, and must attend at -Vauxhall, too. You are asked?” - -I said that Mr. Storer had included me. I am sure, from the way she -looked at me, that she did not heed my answer. She appeared to hesitate -on the verge of a speech, and glanced once or twice at the doors. - -“Richard, I suppose you are old enough to take care of yourself, tho' -you seem still a child to me. I pray you will be careful, my boy,” she -said, with something of the affection she had always borne me, “for your -grandfather's sake, I pray you will run into no more danger. I--we are -your old friends, and the only ones here to advise you.” - -She stopped, seemingly, to weigh the wisdom of what was to come next, -while I leaned forward with an eagerness I could not hide. Was she to -speak of the Duke of Chartersea? Alas, I was not to know. For at that -moment Dorothy came back to inquire why I was not gone to the cudgelling -at the Three Hats. I said I had been invited to stay to dinner. - -“Why, I have writ a note asking Comyn,” said she. “Do you think the -house will hold you both?” - -His Lordship came in as we were sitting down, bursting with some news, -and he could hardly wait to congratulate Dolly on her recovery before he -delivered it. - -“Why, Richard,” says the dog, “what do you think some wag has done now? -They believe at Brooks's 'twas that jackanapes of a parson, Dr. Warner, -who was there yesterday with March.” He drew a clipping from his pocket. -“Listen, Miss Dolly: - - “On Wednesday did a carter see - His Grace, the Duke of Ch-rt--s-a, - As plump and helpless as a bag, - A-straddle of a big-boned nag. - “Lord, Sam!” the carter loudly yelled, - On by this wondrous sight impelled, - “We'll run and watch this noble gander - Master a steed, like Alexander.” - But, when the carter reached the Row, - His Grace had left it, long ago. - Bucephalus had leaped the green, - The duke was in the Serpentine. - The fervent wish of all good men - That he may ne'er come out again!'” - -Comyn's impudence took my breath, tho' the experiment interested me not -a little. My lady was pleased to laugh at the doggerel, and even Mrs. -Manners. Its effect upon Mr. Marmaduke was not so spontaneous. His smile -was half-hearted. Indeed, the little gentleman seemed to have lost his -spirits, and said so little (for him), that I was encouraged to corner -him that very evening and force him to a confession. But I might have -known he was not to be caught. It appeared almost as if he guessed my -purpose, for as soon as ever the claret was come on, he excused himself, -saying he was promised to Lady Harrington, who wanted one. - -Comyn and I departed early on account of Dorothy. She had denied a dozen -who had left cards upon her. - -“Egad, Richard,” said my Lord, when we had got to my lodgings, “I made -him change colour, did I not? Do you know how the little fool looks to -me? 'Od's life, he looks hunted, and cursed near brought to earth. -We must fetch this thing to a point, Richard. And I am wondering what -Chartersea's next move will be,” he added thoughtfully. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. HOLLAND HOUSE - -On the morrow, as I was setting out to dine at Brooks's, I received the -following on a torn slip of paper: “Dear Richard, we shall have a good -show to-day you may care to see.” It was signed “Fox,” and dated at -St. Stephen's. I lost no time in riding to Westminster, where I found a -flock of excited people in Parliament Street and in the Palace Yard. And -on climbing the wide stone steps outside and a narrower flight within I -was admitted directly into the august presence of the representatives of -the English people. They were in a most prodigious and unseemly state of -uproar. - -What a place is old St. Stephen's Chapel, over St. Mary's in the Vaults, -for the great Commons of England to gather! It is scarce larger or more -imposing than our own assembly room in the Stadt House in Annapolis. -St. Stephen's measures but ten yards by thirty, with a narrow gallery -running along each side for visitors. In one of these, by the rail, I -sat down suffocated, bewildered, and deafened. And my first impression -out of the confusion was of the bewigged speaker enthroned under the -royal arms, sore put to restore order. On the table in front of him lay -the great mace of the Restoration. Three chandeliers threw down their -light upon the mob of honourable members, and I wondered what had put -them into this state of uproar. - -Presently, with the help of a kind stranger on my right, who was -occasionally making shorthand notes, I got a few bearings. That was the -Treasury Bench, where Lord North sat (he was wide awake, now). And there -was the Government side. He pointed out Barrington and Weymouth and -Jerry Dyson and Sandwich, and Rigby in the court suit of purple velvet -with the sword thrust through the pocket. I took them all in, as some of -the worst enemies my country had in Britain. Then my informant seemed -to hesitate, and made bold to ask my persuasion. When I told him I was a -Whig, and an American, he begged the favour of my hand. - -“There, sir,” he cried excitedly, “that stout young gentleman with the -black face and eyebrows, and the blacker heart, I may say,--the one -dressed in the fantastical costume called by a French name,--is Mr. -Charles Fox. He has been sent by the devil himself, I believe, to ruin -this country. 'Ods, sir, that devil Lord Holland begot him. He is but -one and twenty, but his detestable arts have saved North's neck from -Burke and Wedderburn on two occasions this year.” - -“And what has happened to-day?” I asked, smiling. - -The stranger smiled, too. - -“Why, sir,” he answered, raising his voice above the noise; “if you have -been in London any length of time, you will have read the account, with -comment, of the Duke of Grafton's speech in the Lords, signed Domitian. -Their Lordships well know it should have been over a greater signature. -This afternoon his Grace of Manchester was talking in the Upper House -about the Spanish troubles, when Lord Gower arose and desired that the -place might be cleared of strangers, lest some Castilian spy might lurk -under the gallery. That was directed against us of the press, sir, and -their Lordships knew it. 'Ad's heart, sir, there was a riot, the house -servants tumbling everybody out, and Mr. Burke and Mr. Dunning in the -boot, who were gone there on the business of this house to present a -bill. Those gentlemen are but just back, calling upon the commons -to revenge them and vindicate their honour. And my Lord North looks -troubled, as you will mark, for the matter is like to go hard against -his Majesty's friends. But hush, Mr. Burke is to speak.” - -The horse fell quiet to listen, and my friend began to ply his shorthand -industriously. I leaned forward with a sharp curiosity to see this great -friend of America. He was dressed in a well-worn suit of brown, and -I recall a decided Irish face, and a more decided Irish accent, which -presently I forgot under the spell of his eloquence. I have heard it -said he had many defects of delivery. He had none that day, or else I -was too little experienced to note them. Afire with indignation, he told -how the deputy black rod had hustled him like a vagabond or a thief, and -he called the House of Lords a bear garden. He was followed by Dunning, -in a still more inflammatory mood, until it seemed as if all the King's -friends in the Lower House must desert their confederates in the -Upper. No less important a retainer than Mr. Onslow moved a policy of -retaliation, and those that were left began to act like the Egyptians -when they felt the Red Sea under them. They nodded and whispered in -their consternation. - -It was then that Mr. Fox got calmly up before the pack of frightened -mercenaries and argued (God save the mark!) for moderation. He had the -ear of the house in a second, and he spoke with all the confidence--this -youngster who had just reached his majority--he had used with me before -his intimates. I gaped with astonishment and admiration. The Lords, said -he, had plainly meant no insult to this honourable house, nor yet to -the honourable members. They had aimed at the common enemies of man, the -printers. And for this their heat was more than pardonable. My friend at -my side stopped his writing to swear under his breath. “Look at 'em!” - he cried; “they are turning already. He could argue Swedenborg into -popery!” - -The deserters were coming back to the ranks, indeed, and North and Dyson -and Weymouth had ceased to look haggard, and were wreathed in smiles. In -vain did Mr. Burke harangue them in polished phrase. It was a language -North and Company did not understand, and cared not to learn. Their -young champion spoke the more worldly and cynical tongue of White's and -Brooks's, with its shorter sentences and absence of formality. And even -as the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose, Mr. Fox quoted history -and the classics, with plenty more that was not above the heads of the -booted and spurred country squires. And thus, for the third time, he -earned the gratitude of his gracious Majesty. - -“Well, Richard,” said he, slipping his arm through mine as we came out -into Parliament Street, “I promised you some sport. Have you enjoyed -it?” - -I was forced to admit that I had. - -“Let us to the 'Thatched House,' and have supper privately,” he -suggested. “I do not feel like a company to-night.” We walked on for -some time in silence. Presently he said: - -“You must not leave us, Richard. You may go home to see your grandfather -die, and when you come back I will see about getting you a little -borough for what my father paid for mine. And you shall marry Dorothy, -and perchance return in ten years as governor of a principality. That -is, after we've ruined you at the club. How does that prospect sit?” - -I wondered at the mood he was in, that made him choose me rather than -the adulation and applause he was sure to receive at Brooks's for the -part he had played that night. After we had satisfied our hunger,--for -neither of us had dined,--and poured out a bottle of claret, he looked -up at me quizzically. - -“I have not heard you congratulate me,” he said. - -“Nor will you,” I replied, laughing. - -“I like you the better for it, Richard. 'Twas a damned poor performance, -and that's truth.” - -“I thought the performance remarkable,” I said honestly. - -“Oh, but it was not,” he answered scornfully. “The moment that -dun-coloured Irishman gets up, the whole government pack begins to whine -and shiver. There are men I went to school with I fear more than Burke. -But you don't like to see the champion of America come off second best. -Is that what you're thinking?” - -“No. But I was wondering why you have devoted your talents to the -devil,” I said, amazed at my boldness. - -He glanced at me, and half laughed again. - -“You are cursed frank,” said he; “damned frank.” - -“But you invited it.” - -“Yes,” he replied, “so I did. Give me a man who is honest. Fill up -again,” said he; “and spit out all you would like to say, Richard.” - -“Then,” said I, “why do you waste your time and your breath in defending -a crew of political brigands and placemen, and a king who knows not the -meaning of the word gratitude, and who has no use for a man of ability? -You have honoured me with your friendship, Charles Fox, and I may take -the liberty to add that you seem to love power more than spoils. You -have originality. You are honest enough to think and act upon your own -impulses. And pardon me if I say you have very little chance on that -side of the house where you have put yourself.” - -“You seem to have picked up a trifle since you came into England,” he -said. “A damned shrewd estimate, I'll be sworn. And for a colonial! But, -as for power,” he added a little doggedly, “I have it in plenty, and -the kind I like. The King and North hate and fear me already more than -Wilkes.” - -“And with more cause,” I replied warmly. “His Majesty perhaps knows -that you understand him better, and foresees the time when a man of your -character will give him cause to fear indeed.” - -He did not answer that, but called for a reckoning; and taking my arm -again, we walked out past the sleeping houses. - -“Have you ever thought much of the men we have in the colonies?” I -asked. - -“No,” he replied; “Chatham stands for 'em, and I hate Chatham on my -father's account. That is reason enough for me.” - -“You should come back to America with me,” I said. “And when you had -rested awhile at Carvel Hall, I would ride with you through the length -of the provinces from Massachusetts to North Carolina. You will see -little besides hard-working, self-respecting Englishmen, loyal to a king -who deserves loyalty as little as Louis of France. But with their eyes -open, and despite the course he has taken. They are men whose measure of -resolution is not guessed at.” - -He was silent again until we had got into Piccadilly and opposite his -lodgings. - -“Are they all like you?” he demanded. - -“Who?” said I. For I had forgotten my words. - -“The Americans.” - -“The greater part feel as I do.” - -“I suppose you are for bed,” he remarked abruptly. - -“The night is not yet begun,” I answered, repeating his favourite words, -and pointing at the glint of the sun on the windows. - -“What do you say to a drive behind those chestnuts of mine, for a breath -of air? I have just got my new cabriolet Selwyn ordered in Paris.” - -Soon we were rattling over the stones in Piccadilly, wrapped in -greatcoats, for the morning wind was cold. We saw the Earl of March and -Ruglen getting out of a chair before his house, opposite the Green Park, -and he stopped swearing at the chairmen to wave at us. - -“Hello, March!” Mr. Fox said affably, “you're drunk.” - -His Lordship smiled, bowed graciously if unsteadily to me, and did not -appear to resent the pleasantry. Then he sighed. - -“What a pair of cubs it is,” said he; “I wish to God I was young again. -I hear you astonished the world again last night, Charles.” - -We left him being assisted into his residence by a sleepy footman, paid -our toll at Hyde Park Corner, and rolled onward toward Kensington, -Fox laughing as we passed the empty park at the thought of what had so -lately occurred there. After the close night of St. Stephen's, nature -seemed doubly beautiful. The sun slanted over the water in the gardens -in bars of green and gold. The bright new leaves were on the trees, and -the morning dew had brought with it the smell of the living earth. We -passed the stream of market wagons lumbering along, pulled by sturdy, -patient farm-horses, driven by smocked countrymen, who touched their -caps to the fine gentlemen of the court end of town; who shook their -heads and exchanged deep tones over the whims of quality, unaccountable -as the weather. But one big-chested fellow arrested his salute, a scowl -came over his face, and he shouted back to the wagoner whose horses were -munching his hay: - -“Hi, Jeems, keep down yere hands. Mr. Fox is noo friend of we.” - -This brought a hard smile on Mr. Fox's face. - -“I believe, Richard,” he said, “I have become more detested than any man -in Parliament.” - -“And justly,” I replied; “for you have fought all that is good in you.” - -“I was mobbed once, in Parliament Street. I thought they would kill me. -Have you ever been mobbed, Richard?” he asked indifferently. - -“Never, I thank Heaven,” I answered fervently. - -“I think I would rather be mobbed than indulge in any amusement I know -of,” he continued. “Than confound Wedderburn, or drive a measure against -Burke,--which is no bad sport, my word on't. I would rather be mobbed -than have my horse win at Newmarket. There is a keen pleasure you wot -not of, my lad, in listening to Billingsgate and Spitalfields howl -maledictions upon you. And no sensation I know of is equal to that of -the moment when the mud and sticks and oranges are coming through the -windows of your coach, when the dirty weavers are clutching at your -ruffles and shaking their filthy fists under your nose.” - -“It is, at any rate, strictly an aristocratic pleasure,” I assented, -laughing. - -So we came to Holland House. Its wide fields of sprouting corn, its -woods and pastures and orchards in blossom, were smiling that morning, -as though Leviathan, the town, were not rolling onward to swallow -them. Lord Holland had bought the place from the Warwicks, with all -its associations and memories. The capped towers and quaint facades and -projecting windows were plain to be seen from where we halted in the -shaded park, and to the south was that Kensington Road we had left, over -which all the glory and royalty of England at one time or another had -rolled. Under these majestic oaks and cedars Cromwell and Ireton had -stood while the beaten Royalists lashed their horses on to Brentford. -Nor did I forget that the renowned Addison had lived here after his -unhappy marriage with Lady Warwick, and had often ridden hence to -Button's Coffee House in town, where my grandfather had had his dinner -with Dean Swift. - -We sat gazing at the building, which was bathed in the early sun, at the -deer and sheep grazing in the park, at the changing colours of the young -leaves as the breeze swayed them. The market wagons had almost ceased -now, and there was little to break the stillness. - -“You love the place?” I said. - -He started, as though I had awakened him out of a sleep. And he was no -longer the Fox of the clubs, the cynical, the reckless. He was no longer -the best-dressed man in St. James's Street, or the aggressive youngster -of St. Stephen's. - -“Love it!” he cried. “Ay, Richard, and few guess how well. You will not -laugh when I tell you that my happiest days have been passed here, when -I was but a chit, in the long room where Addison used to walk up and -down composing his Spectators: or trotting after my father through these -woods and gardens. A kinder parent does not breathe than he. Well -I remember how he tossed me in his arms under that tree when I had -thrashed another lad for speaking ill of him. He called me his knight. -In all my life he has never broken faith with me. When they were -blasting down a wall where those palings now stand, he promised me I -should see it done, and had it rebuilt and blown down again because I -had missed the sight. All he ever exacted of me was that I should treat -him as an elder brother. He had his own notion of the world I was going -into, and prepared me accordingly. He took me from Eton to Spa, where I -learned gaming instead of Greek, and gave me so much a night to risk at -play.” - -I looked at him in astonishment. To say that I thought these relations -strange would have been a waste of words. - -“To be sure,” Charles continued, “I was bound to learn, and could -acquire no younger.” He flicked the glossy red backs of his horses with -his whip. “You are thinking it an extraordinary education, I know,” he -added rather sadly. “I hav a-told you this--God knows why! Yes, because -I like you damnably, and you would have heard worse elsewhere, both of -him and of me. I fear you have listened to the world's opinion of Lord -Holland.” - -Indeed, I had heard a deal of that nobleman's peculations of the public -funds. But in this he was no worse than the bulk of his colleagues. His -desertion of William Pitt I found hard to forgive. - -“The best father in the world, Richard!” cried Charles. “If his former -friends could but look into his kind heart, and see him in his home, -they would not have turned their backs upon him. I do not mean such -scoundrels as Rigby. And now my father is in exile half the year in -Nice, and the other half at King's Gate. The King and Jack Bute used -him for a tool, and then cast him out. You wonder why I am of the King's -party?” said he, with something sinister in his smile; “I will tell you. -When I got my borough I cared not a fig for parties or principles. I -had only the one definite ambition, to revenge Lord Holland. Nay,” he -exclaimed, stopping my protest, “I was not too young to know rottenness -as well as another. The times are rotten in England. You may have virtue -in America, amongst a people which is fresh from a struggle with the -earth and its savages. We have cursed little at home, in faith. The -King, with his barley water and rising at six, and shivering in chapel, -and his middle-class table, is rottener than the rest. The money he -saves in his damned beggarly court goes to buy men's souls. His word is -good with none. For my part I prefer a man who is drunk six days out of -the seven to one who takes his pleasure so. And I am not so great a fool -that I cannot distinguish justice from injustice. I know the wrongs of -the colonies, which you yourself have put as clear as I wish to hear, -despite Mr. Burke and his eloquence. - - [My grandfather has made a note here, which in justice should be - added, that he was not deceived by Mr. Fox's partiality.--D. C. C.] - -And perhaps, Richard,” he concluded, with a last lingering look at the -old pile as he turned his horses, “perhaps some day, I shall remember -what you told us at Brooks's.” - -It was thus, boyishly, that Mr. Fox chose to take me into his -confidence, an honour which I shall remember with a thrill to my dying -day. So did he reveal to me the impulses of his early life, hidden -forever from his detractors. How little does the censure of this world -count, which cannot see the heart behind the embroidered waistcoat! When -Charles Fox began his career he was a thoughtless lad, but steadfast to -such principles as he had formed for himself. They were not many, but, -compared to those of the arena which he entered, they were noble. He -strove to serve his friends, to lift the name of a father from whom he -had received nothing but kindness, however misguided. And when he saw at -length the error of his ways, what a mighty blow did he strike for the -right! - -“Here is a man,” said Dr. Johnson, many years afterwards, “who has -divided his kingdom with Caesar; so that it was a doubt whether the -nation should be ruled by the sceptre of George the Third or the tongue -of Fox.” - - - - -CHAPTER XL. VAUXHALL - -Matters had come to a pretty pickle indeed. I was openly warned at -Brooks's and elsewhere to beware of the duke, who was said upon various -authority to be sulking in Hanover Square, his rage all the more -dangerous because it was smouldering. I saw Dolly only casually before -the party to Vauxhall. Needless to say, she flew in the face of Dr. -James's authority, and went everywhere. She was at Lady Bunbury's drum, -whither I had gone in another fruitless chase after Mr. Marmaduke. -Dr. Warner's verse was the laughter of the company. And, greatly to my -annoyance,--in the circumstances,--I was made a hero of, and showered -with three times as many invitations as I could accept. - -The whole story got abroad, even to the awakening of the duke in Covent -Garden. And that clownish Mr. Foote, of the Haymarket, had added some -lines to a silly popular song entitled 'The Sights o' Lunnun', with -which I was hailed at Mrs. Betty's fruit-stall in St. James's Street. -Here is one of the verses: - - “In Maryland, he hunts the Fox - From dewy Morn till Day grows dim; - At Home he finds a Paradox, - From Noon till Dawn the Fox hunts him.” - -Charles Fox laughed when he heard it. But he was serious when he came to -speak of Chartersea, and bade me look out for assassination. I had Banks -follow me abroad at night with a brace of pistols under his coat, albeit -I feared nothing save that I should not have an opportunity to meet the -duke in a fair fight. And I resolved at all hazards to run Mr. Marmaduke -down with despatch, if I had to waylay him. - -Mr. Storer, who was forever giving parties, was responsible for this -one at Vauxhall. We went in three coaches, and besides Dorothy and Mr. -Marmaduke, the company included Lord and Lady Carlisle, Sir Charles and -Lady Sarah Bunbury, Lady Ossory and Lady Julia Howard, two Miss Stanleys -and Miss Poole, and Comyn, and Hare, and Price, and Fitzpatrick, the -latter feeling very glum over a sum he had dropped that afternoon to -Lord Harrington. Fox had been called to St. Stephen's on more printer's -business. - -Dolly was in glowing pink, as I loved best to see her, and looked -divine. Comyn and I were in Mr. Manners's coach. The evening was -fine and warm, and my lady in very lively spirits. As we rattled over -Westminster Bridge, the music of the Vauxhall band came “throbbing -through the still night,” and the sky was bright with the reflection -of the lights. It was the fashion with the quality to go late; and -so eleven o'clock had struck before we had pulled up between Vauxhall -stairs, crowded with watermen and rough mudlarks, and the very -ordinary-looking house which forms the entrance of the great garden. -Leaving the servants outside, single-file we trailed through the dark -passage guarded by the wicketgate. - -“Prepare to be ravished, Richard,” said my lady, with fine sarcasm. - -“You were yourself born in the colonies, miss,” I retorted. “I confess -to a thrill, and will not pretend that I have seen such sights often -enough to be sated.” - -“La!” exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; “I vow this is -refreshing. Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?” - -Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my -enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me. A great -orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides -with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or -swept around in circles. These were filled with people of all sorts and -conditions, supping and making merry. Other people were sauntering under -the trees, keeping step with the music. Lamps of white and blue and red -and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in -stars and crescents upon the buildings. - -“Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin.” - - “'O Patty! Soft in feature, - I've been at dear Vauxhall; - No paradise is sweeter, - Not that they Eden call.'” - -whispered Dolly, paraphrasing. - -At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the -brothers, proprietors of the gardens. He was a very lively young fellow -who seemed to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk -about a little before being shown to the boxes reserved for us. - -“They are on the right side, Mr. Tyers?” demanded Mr. Storer. - -“Oh, to be sure, sir. Your man was most particular to stipulate the pink -and blue flowered brocades, next the Prince of Wales's.” - -“But you must have the band stop that piece, Mr. Tyers,” cried Lady -Sarah. “I declare, it is too much for my nerves. Let them play Dibbin's -Ephesian Matron.” - -“As your Ladyship wishes,” responded the obliging Mr. Tyers, and sent -off an uniformed warder to the band-master. - -As he led us into the Rotunda, my Lady Dolly, being in one of her -whimsical humours, began to recite in the manner of the guide-book, to -the vast diversion of our party and the honest citizens gaping at us. - -“This, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” says the minx, “is that -marvellous Rotunda commonly known as the 'umbrella,' where the music -plays on wet nights, and where we have our masquerades and ridottos. -Their Royal Highnesses are very commonly seen here on such occasions. -As you see, it is decorated with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with -gilded festoons. That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth. The -organ in the orchestra cost--you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,--and -the ceiling is at least two hundred feet high. Gentlemen from the -colonies and the country take notice.” - -By this time we were surrounded. Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and -crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, -was wholly convulsed. - -“Faith, Miss Manners, and you would consent to do this two nights more, -we should have to open another gate,” he declared. Followed by the mob, -which it seems was part of the excitement, he led us out of the building -into the Grand Walk; and offered to turn on the waterfall and mill, -which (so Lady Sarah explained to me) the farmers and merchants fell -down and worshipped every night at nine, to the tinkling of bells. She -told Mr. Tyers there was diversion enough without “tin cascades.” When -we got to the Grand Cross Walk he pointed out the black “Wilderness” of -tall elms and cedars looming ahead of us. And--so we came to the -South Walk, with its three triumphal arches framing a noble view of -architecture at the far end. Our gentlemen sauntered ahead, with their -spy-glasses, staring the citizens' pretty daughters out of countenance, -and making cynical remarks. - -“Why, egad!” I heard Sir Charles say, “the wig-makers have no cause to -petition his Majesty for work. I'll be sworn the false hair this good -staymaker has on cost a guinea.” - -A remark which caused the staymaker (if such he was) such huge -discomfort that he made off with his wife in the opposite direction, to -the time of jeers and cock-crows from the bevy of Vauxhall bucks walking -abreast. - -“You must show us the famous 'dark walks,' Mr. Tyers,” says Dorothy. - -“Surely you will not care to see those, Miss Manners.” - -“O lud, of course you must,” chimed in the Miss Stanleys; “there is no -spice in these flaps and flies.” - -He led us accordingly into Druid's Walk, overarched with elms, and dark -as the shades, our gentlemen singing, “'Ods! Lovers will contrive,'” in -chorus, the ladies exclaiming and drawing together. Then I felt a soft, -restraining hold on my arm, and fell back instinctively, vibrating to -the touch. - -“Could you not see that I have been trying to get a word with you for -ever so long?” - -“I trust you to find a way, Dolly, if you but wish,” I replied, admiring -her stratagem. - -“I am serious to-night.” Indeed, her voice betrayed as much. How well -I recall those rich and low tones! “I said I wished you shut up in the -Marshalsea, and I meant it. I have been worrying about you.” - -“You make me very happy,” said I; which was no lie. - -“Richard, you are every bit as reckless and indifferent of danger as -they say your father was. And I am afraid--” - -“Of what?” I asked quickly. - -“You once mentioned a name to me--” - -“Yes?” I was breathing deep. - -“I have forgiven you,” she said gently. “I never meant to have referred -to that incident more. You will understand whom I mean. You must know -that he is a dangerous man, and a treacherous. Oh!” she exclaimed, “I -have been in hourly terror ever since you rode against him in Hyde Park. -There! I have said it.” - -The tense sweetness of that moment none will ever know. - -“But you have more reason to fear him than I, Dorothy.” - -“Hush!” she whispered, catching her breath; “what are you saying?” - -“That he has more cause to fear me than I to dread him.” - -She came a little closer. - -“You stayed in London for me, Richard. Why did you? There was no need,” - she exclaimed; “there was no need, do you hear? Oh, I shall never -forgive Comyn for his meddling! I am sure 'twas he who told you some -ridiculous story. He had no foundation for it.” - -“Dorothy,” I demanded, my voice shaking with earnestness, “will you -tell me honestly there is no foundation for the report that the duke is -intriguing to marry you?” - -That question was not answered, and regret came the instant it had left -my lips--regret and conviction both. Dorothy joined Lady Carlisle before -our absence had been noted, and began to banter Fitzpatrick upon his -losings. - -We were in the lighted Grove again, and sitting down to a supper of -Vauxhall fare: transparent slices of ham (which had been a Vauxhall joke -for ages), and chickens and cheese cakes and champagne and claret, -and arrack punch. Mr. Tyers extended the concert in our favour. Mrs. -Weichsell and the beautiful Baddeley trilled sentimental ballads which -our ladies chose; and Mr. Vernon, the celebrated tenor, sang Cupid's -Recruiting Sergeant so happily that Storer sent him a bottle of -champagne. After which we amused ourselves with catches until the space -between our boxes and the orchestra was filled. In the midst of this -Comyn came quietly in from the other box and took a seat beside me. - -“Chartersea is here to-night,” said he. - -I started. “How do you know?” - -“Tyers told me he turned up half an hour since. Tom asked his Grace to -join our party,” his Lordship laughed. “Duke said no--he was to be here -only half an hour, and Tom did not push him. He told me as a joke, and -thinks Chartersea came to meet some petite.” - -“Any one with him?” I asked. - -“Yes. Tall, dark man, one eye cast,--that's Lewis. They have come on -some dirty work, Richard. Watch little Marmaduke. He has been fidgety as -a cat all night.” - -“That's true,” said I. Looking up, I caught Dorothy's eyes upon us, -her lips parted, uneasiness and apprehension plain upon her face. Comyn -dropped his voice still lower. - -“I believe she suspects something,” he said, rising. “Chartersea is -gone off toward the Wilderness, so Tom says. You must not let little -Marmaduke see him. If Manners gets up to go, I will tune up Black-eked -Susan, and do you follow on some pretext. If you are not back in a -reasonable time, I'll after you.” - -He had been gone scant three minutes before I heard his clear voice -singing, “in the Downs”, and up I got, with a precipitation far from -politic, and stepped out of the box. Our company stared in surprise. -But Dorothy rose clear from her chair. The terror I saw stamped upon her -face haunts me yet, and I heard her call my name. - -I waited for nothing. Gaining the Grand Walk, I saw Mr. Marmaduke's -insignificant figure dodging fearfully among the roughs, whose hour it -was. He traversed the Cross Walk, and twenty yards farther on dived into -an opening in the high hedge bounding the Wilderness. Before he had made -six paces I had him by the shoulder, and he let out a shriek of fright -like a woman's. - -“It is I, Richard Carvel, Mr. Manners,” I said shortly. I could not keep -out the contempt from my tone. “I beg a word with you.” - -In his condition then words were impossible. His teeth rattled again, -and he trembled like a hare caught alive. I kept my hold of him, and -employed the time until he should be more composed peering into the -darkness. For all I knew Chartersea might be within ear-shot. But I -could see nothing but black trunks of trees. - -“What is it, Richard?” - -“You are going to meet Chartersea,” I said. - -He must have seen the futility of a lie, or else was scared out of all -contrivance. “Yes,” he said weakly. - -“You have allowed it to become the talk of London that this filthy -nobleman is blackmailing you for your daughter,” I went on, without -wasting words. “Tell me, is it, or is it not, true?” - -As he did not answer, I retained a handful of the grained silk on his -shoulder as a measure of precaution. - -“Is this so?” I repeated. - -“You must know, I suppose,” he said, under his breath, and with a note -of sullenness. - -“I must,” I said firmly. “The knowledge is the weapon need, for I, too, -am going to meet Chartersea.” - -He ceased quivering all at once. - -“You are going to meet him!” he cried, in another voice. “Yes, yes, it -is so,--it is so. I will tell you all.” - -“Keep it to yourself, Mr. Manners,” I replied, with repugnance, “I have -heard all I wish. Where is he?” I demanded. - -“Hold the path until you come to him. And God bless--” - -I shook my head. - -“No, not that! Do you go back to the company and make some excuse for -me. Do not alarm them. And if you get the chance, tell Lord Comyn where -to come.” - -I waited until I saw him under the lights of the Grand Walk, and fairly -running. Then I swung on my heel. I was of two minds whether to wait -for Comyn, by far the wiser course. The unthinking recklessness I had -inherited drove me on. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. THE WILDERNESS - -My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made out -a bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I should -have known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as I -stopped abreast them, and called the duke by name. - -“Mr. Carvel!” he cried; “what the devil do you here, sir?” - -“I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners,” I said. “May I speak -to your Grace alone?” - -He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneering -laugh. - -“No,” says he, “damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you, -sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. And -he is not the first, Lewis.” - -“Nor the last, by G--,” says the captain. - -“I have a score to settle with you, d--n you!” cried Chartersea. - -“That is why I am here, your Grace,” I replied; “only you have twisted -the words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you,” I -cried, boiling with anger, “I have come to tell you there has been foul -play enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put an -end to your blackmail.” - -In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. But -I was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face--nay, -boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of the -scabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to distance at the same instant. -Then, with something of a shudder, I remembered young Atwater, and a 380 -brace of other instances of his villany. I looked for the captain. He -was gone. - -Our blades, the duke's and mine, came together with a ring, and I felt -the strength of his wrist behind his, and of his short, powerful arm. -The steel sung with our quick changes from 'quarte' to 'tierce'. 'Twas -all by the feeling, without light to go by, and hatred between us left -little space for skill. Our lunges were furious. 'Twas not long before -I felt his point at my chest, but his reach was scant. All at once -the music swelled up voices and laughter were wafted faintly from -the pleasure world of lights beyond. But my head was filled, to the -exclusion of all else, with a hatred and fury. And (God forgive me!) -from between my teeth came a prayer that if I might kill this monster, I -would die willingly. - -Suddenly, as I pressed him, he shifted ground, and there was Lewis -standing within range of my eye. His hands were nowhere--they were -behind his back! God alone knows why he had not murdered me. To keep -Chartersea between him and me I swung another quarter. The duke seemed -to see my game, struggled against it, tried to rush in under my guard, -made a vicious lunge that would have ended me then and there had he not -slipped. We were both panting like wild beasts. When next I raised my -eyes Lewis had faded into the darkness. Then I felt my head as wet as -from a plunge, the water running on my brow, and my back twitching. -Every second I thought the sting of his sword was between my ribs. But -to forsake the duke would have been the maddest of follies. - -In that moment of agony came footsteps beating on the path, and by tacit -consent our swords were still. We listened. - -“Richard! Richard Carvel!” - -For the second time in my life I thanked Heaven for that brave and loyal -English heart. I called back, but my throat was dry and choked. - -“So they are at their d--d assassins' tricks again! You need have no -fear of one murderer.” - -With that their steels rang out behind me, like broadswords, Lewis -wasting his breath in curses and blasphemies. I began to push Chartersea -with all my might, and the wonder of it was that we did not fight with -our fingers on each other's necks. His attacks, too, redoubled. Twice -I felt the stings of his point, once in the hand, and once in the body, -but I minded them as little as pinpricks. I was sure I had touched him, -too. I heard him blowing distressedly. The casks of wine he had drunk -in his short life were telling now, and his thrusts grew weaker. That -fiercest of all joys--of killing an enemy--was in me, when I heard a cry -that rang in my ears for many a year afterward, and the thud of a body -on the ground. - -“I have done for him, your Grace,” says Lewis, with an oath; and added -immediately, “I think I hear people.” - -Before I had reached my Lord the captain repeated this, and excitedly -begged the duke, I believe, to fly. Chartersea hissed out that he would -not move a step until he had finished me, and as I bent over the body -his point popped through my coat, and the pain shot under my shoulder. I -staggered, and fell. A second of silence ensued, when the duke said with -a laugh that was a cackle: - -“He won't marry her, d--n him!” (panting). “He had me cursed near -killed, Lewis. Best give him another for luck.” - -I felt his heavy hand on the sword, and it tearing out of me. Next came -the single word “Dover,” and they were gone. I had not lost my senses, -and was on my knees again immediately, ripping open Comyn's waistcoat -with my left hand, and murmuring his name in an agony of sorrow. I was -searching under his shirt, wet with blood, when I became aware of voices -at my side. “A duel! A murder! Call the warders! Warders, ho!” - -“A surgeon!” I cried. “A surgeon first of all!” - -Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickering -in the wind, before his Lordship's face. Guided by its light, more -people came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns, -headed by Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my Lord -Carlisle. We carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed the -doors against the crowd. - -By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardens -that night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with the -constable and the watch. Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charles -washed and dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to our -anxious questions replied that there was a chance of recovery. - -“But you, too, are hurt, sir,” he said, turning his clear eyes upon -me. Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during the -whole of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it. By -great good fortune Chartersea's thrust, which he thought had ended my -life, passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodged -deep in my right nipple. This wound the surgeon bound carefully, and -likewise two smaller ones. - -The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea. And so I was forced -to tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, going -out to the scene of the fight, discovered the duke's sword which he -had pulled out of me, and Lewis's laced hat; and also a trail of blood -leading from the spot. Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Chartersea -that night, and Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the duke -bore me. I was given my liberty. - -Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in Sir -Charles's coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him. 'Twas on the way -there that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard the -alarm--a piece of news which added to my anxiety. We called up the -dowager countess, Comyn's mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her, -mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame. Her Ladyship received -the tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent of -reproaches I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home and -care for my injuries lest I get the fever. I believe that I burst into -tears. - -His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan from -his lips, and his heart beating out slowly. - -We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying: “Past two o'clock, -and a windy morning!” - -Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night. And the next morning, save -for the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever. I -was again to thank the robustness of my health. Despite the protests -of Banks and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not having -been to bed at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street. -There I had the good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind. -Comyn was resting so much easier that the surgeon had left, and her -Ladyship retired two hours since. - -The day was misting and dark, but so vast was my relief that I imagined -the sun was out as I rattled toward Arlington Street. If only Dolly were -not ill again from the shock, I should be happy indeed. She must have -heard, ere then, that I was not killed; and I had still better news to -tell her than that of Lord Comyn's condition. Mr. Fox, who got every -rumour that ran, had shouted after me that the duke and Lewis were set -out for France. How he knew I had not waited to inquire. But the report -tallied with my own surmise, for they had used the word “Dover” when -they left us for dead in the Wilderness. - -I dismissed my chaise at the door. - -“Mr. Manners waits on you, sir, in the drawing-room,” said the footman. -“Your honour is here sooner than he looked for,” he added gratuitously. - -“Sooner than he looked for?” - -“Yes, sir. James is gone to you but quarter of an hour since with a -message, sir.” - -I was puzzled. - -“And Miss Manners? Is she well?” - -The man smiled. - -“Very well, sir, thank your honour.” - -To add to my surprise, Mr. Marmaduke was pacing the drawing-room in a -yellow night-gown. He met me with an expression I failed to fathom, and -then my eye was held by a letter in his hand. He cleared his throat. - -“Good morning, Richard,” said he, very serious,--very pompous, I -thought. “I am pleased to see that you are so well out of the deplorable -affair of last night.” - -I had not looked for gratitude. In truth, I had done nothing for him, -and Chartersea might have exposed him a highwayman for all I cared,--I -had fought for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about to -make a tart reply, and then thought better of it. - -“Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel,” says he to the footman. -Then to me: “I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger.” - -I merely stared at him. - -“Will you sit?” he continued. “To speak truth, the Annapolis packet came -in last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time to -hear from Maryland, I sent for you.” - -My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning from -this introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him for -sending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leave -my bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair. - -“You have heard from Maryland?” I cried. “Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tell -me, is Mr. Carvel dead?” And I clutched his arm to make him wince. - -He nodded, and turned away. “My dear old friend is no more,” he said. -“Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month.” - -I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollections -overwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind. -One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, I -had missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton brought -the tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive his -last words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow. -Who had he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? The -imagination of that scene drove me mad. - -Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quickly -that I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I to -die to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it the -smile which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, there -was in it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act. - -“There is more, Richard,” he was saying; “there is worse to come. Can -you bear it?” - -His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short of -temper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And now -all my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined his -meaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father. - -“Worse?” I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. “Do you mean that -Grafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?” - -“Yes,” he gasped, “yes. I pray you be calm.” - -“And you call that worse than losing my dearest friend on earth?” I -cried. There must have been an infinite scorn in my voice. “Then your -standards and mine are different, Mr. Manners. Your ways and mine are -different, and I thank God for it. You have played more than one double -part with me. You looked me in the face and denied me, and left me to go -to a prison. I shall not repeat my grandfather's kindnesses to you, sir. -Though you may not recall them, I do. And if your treatment of me was -known in Maryland, you would be drummed out of the colony even as Mr. -Hood was, and hung in effigy” - -“As God hears me, Richard--” - -“Do not add perjury to it,” I said. “And have no uneasiness that I shall -publish you. Your wife and daughter have saved you before,--they will -save you now.” - -I paused, struck speechless by a suspicion that suddenly flashed into my -head. A glance at the contemptible form cowering within the folds of the -flowered gown clinched it to a conviction. In two strides I had seized -him by the skin over his ribs, and he shrieked with pain and fright. - -“You--you snake!” I cried, in uncontrollable anger. “You well knew -Dorothy's spirit, which she has not got from you, and you lied to her. -Yes, lied, I say. To force her to marry Chartersea you made her believe -that your precious honour was in danger. And you lied to me last night, -and sent me in the dark to fight two of the most treacherous villains in -England. You wish they had killed me. The plot was between you and his -Grace. You, who have not a cat's courage, commit an indiscretion! You -never made one in your life, Tell me,” I cried, shaking him until his -teeth smote together, “was it not put up between you?” - -“Let me go! Let me go, and I will tell!” he wailed in the agony of my -grip. I tightened it the more. - -“You shall confess it first,” I said, from between my teeth. - -Scarce had his lips formed the word yes, when I had flung him half -across the room. He tripped on his gown, and fell sprawling on his -hands. So the servant found us when he came back with the tray. The -lackey went out again hastily. - -“My God!” I exclaimed, in bitterness and disgust; “you are a father, and -would sell both your daughter and your honour for a title, and to the -filthiest wretch in the kingdom?” - -Without bestowing upon him another look, I turned on my heel and left -the room. I had set my foot on the stair, when I heard the rustle of a -dress, and the low voice which I knew so well calling my name. - -“Richard.” - -There at my side was Dorothy, even taller in her paleness, with sorrow -and agitation in her blue eyes. - -“Richard, I have heard all.--I listened. Are you going away without a -word for me?” Her breath came fast, and mine, as she laid a hand upon -my arm. “Richard, I do not care whether you are poor. What am I saying?” - she cried wildly. “Am I false to my own father? Richard, what have you -done?” - -And then, while I stood dazed, she tore open her gown, and drawing forth -a little gold locket, pressed it in my palm. “The flowers you gave me -on your birthday,--the lilies of the valley, do you remember? They are -here, Richard. I have worn them upon my heart ever since.” - -I raised the locket to my lips. - -“I shall treasure it for your sake, Dorothy,” I said, “for the sake of -the old days. God keep you!” - -For a moment I looked into the depths of her eyes. Then she was gone, -and I went down the stairs alone. Outside, the rain fell unheeded on -my new coat. My steps bent southward, past Whitehall, where the martyr -Charles had met death so nobly: past the stairs to the river, where she -had tripped with me so gayly not a month since. Death was in my soul -that day,--death and love, which is the mystery of life. God guided me -into the great Abbey near by, where I fell on my knees before Him and -before England's dead. He had raised them and cast them down, even as He -was casting me, that I might come to know the glory of His holy name. - - - - -Volume 7. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN - -At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with -indignation and fidgety from uneasiness. - -“O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?” he cried. “Your honour's -agent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o' -him, sir?” - -Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair -Dolly had chosen, smoking my tobacco. I stared at him from the -threshold. Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or both -brought him to his feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face. He put -down the pipe guiltily. I told him shortly that I had heard the news -which he must have got by the packet: and that he should have his money, -tho' it took the rest of my life: and the ten per cent I had promised -him provided he would not press my Lord Comyn. He hesitated, and drummed -on the table. He was the man of business again. - -“What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?” he asked. - -“My word,” I said. “It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor my -father's before me. And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to say -that of Grafton.” Truly I thought the principal and agent were now well -matched. - -“Very good, Mr. Carvel,” he said; “ten per cent. I shall call with the -papers on Monday morning.” - -“I shall not run away before that,” I replied. - -He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customary -protestations of duty and humble offers of service. And I thanked Heaven -he had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not have -borne, but must have laid hands upon him. Perhaps he believed Grafton -not yet secure in his title. I did not wonder then, in the heat of my -youth, that he should have accepted my honour as security. But since I -have marvelled not a little at this. The fine gentlemen at Brooks's -with whom I had been associating were none too scrupulous, and regarded -money-lenders as legitimate prey. Debts of honour they paid but tardily, -if at all. A certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteen -thousand pounds for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won at -hazard. And tho' I blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious in -such matters, and was in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables of -which he was the devoted chief. - -The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would never -desert me. And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow's devotion -brought me no little comfort. At such times the heart is bitter. We look -askance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard for -those that remain true. I had a great affection for the man, and had -become so used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not the -courage to refuse his prayers to go with me to America. I had not a -farthing of my own--he would serve me for nothing--nay, work for me. -“Sure,” he said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,--“Sure, -your honour was not made to work.” To cheer me he went on with some -foolish footman's gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures who -would marry me, and be thankful. I smiled sadly. - -“That was when I was Mr. Carvel's heir, Banks.” - -“And your face and figure, sir, and masterful ways! Faith, and what more -would a lady want!” Banks's notions of morality were vague enough, and -he would have had me sink what I had left at hazard at Almack's. He -had lived in this atmosphere. Alas! there was little chance of my -ever regaining the position I had held but yesterday. I thought of the -sponging-house, and my brow was moist. England was no place, in those -days, for fallen gentlemen. With us in the Colonies the law offered -itself. Mr. Swain, and other barristers of Annapolis, came to my mind, -for God had given me courage. I would try the law. For I had small hopes -of defeating my Uncle Grafton. - -The Sunday morning dawned brightly, and the church bells ringing brought -me to my feet, and out into Piccadilly, in the forlorn hope that I might -see my lady on her way to morning service,--see her for the last time in -life, perhaps. Her locket I wore over my heart. It had lain upon hers. -To see her was the most exquisite agony in the world. But not to see -her, and to feel that she was scarce quarter of a mile away, was beyond -endurance. I stood beside an area at the entrance to Arlington Street, -and waited for an hour, quite in vain; watching every face that passed, -townsmen in their ill-fitting Sunday clothes, and fine ladies with the -footmen carrying velvet prayerbooks. And some that I knew only stared, -and others gave me distant bows from their coach windows. For those that -fall from fashion are dead to fashion. - -Dorothy did not go to church that day. - -It is a pleasure, my dears, when writing of that hour of bitterness, to -record the moments of sweetness which lightened it. As I climbed up to -my rooms in Dover Street, I heard merry sounds above, and a cloud of -smoke blew out of the door when I opened it. - -“Here he is,” cried Mr. Fox. “You see, Richard, we have not deserted you -when we can win no more of your money.” - -“Why, egad! the man looks as if he had had a calamity,” said Mr. -Fitzpatrick. - -“And there is not a Jew here,” Fox continued. “Tho' it is Sunday, -the air in my Jerusalem chamber is as bad as in any crimps den in -St. Giles's. 'Slife, and I live to be forty, I shall have as many -underground avenues as his Majesty Louis the Eleventh.” - -“He must have a place,” put in my Lord Carlisle. - -“We must do something for him,” said Fox, “albeit he is an American and -a Whig, and all the rest of the execrations. Thou wilt have to swallow -thy golden opinions, my buckskin, when we put thee in office.” - -I was too overwhelmed even to protest. - -“You are not in such a cursed bad way, when all is said, Richard,” said -Fitzpatrick. “Charles, when he loses a fortune, immediately borrows -another.” - -“If you stick to whist and quinze,” said Charles, solemnly, giving me -the advice they were forever thrusting upon him, “and play with system, -you may make as much as four thousand a year, sir.” - -And this was how I was treated by those heathen and cynical macaronies, -Mr. Fox's friends. I may not say the same for the whole of Brooks's -Club, tho' I never darkened its doors afterwards. But I encountered my -Lord March that afternoon, and got only a blank stare in place of a bow. - -Charles had collected (Heaven knows how!) the thousand pounds which he -stood in my debt, and Mr. Storer and Lord Carlisle offered to lend me -as much as I chose. I had some difficulty in refusing, and more still in -denying Charles when he pressed me to go with them to Richmond, where he -had rooms for play over Sunday. - -Banks brought me the news that Lord Comyn was sitting up, and had been -asking for me that day; that he was recovering beyond belief. But I was -resolved not to go to Brook Street until the money affairs were settled -on Monday with Mr. Dix, for I knew well that his Lordship would insist -upon carrying out with the agent the contract he had so generously and -hastily made, rather than let me pay an abnormal interest. - -On Monday I rose early, and went out for a bit of air before the scene -with Mr. Dix. Returning, I saw a coach with his Lordship's arms on the -panels, and there was Comyn himself in my great chair at the window, -where he had been deposited by Banks and his footman. I stared as on one -risen from the dead. - -“Why, Jack, what are you doing here?” I cried. - -He replied very offhand, as was his manner at such times: - -“Blicke vows that Chartersea and Lewis have qualified for the College of -Surgeons,” says he. “They are both born anatomists. Your job under the -arm was the worst bungle of the two, egad, for Lewis put his sword, pat -as you please, between two of my organs (cursed if I know their names), -and not so much as scratched one.” - -“Look you, Jack,” said I, “I am not deceived. You have no right to be -here, and you know it.” - -“Tush!” answered his Lordship; “I am as well as you.” And he took snuff -to prove the assertion. “Why the devil was you not in Brook Street -yesterday to tell me that your uncle had swindled you? I thought I was -your friend,” says he, “and I learn of your misfortune through others.” - -“It is because you are my friend, and my best friend, that I would not -worry you when you lay next door to death on my account,” I said, with -emotion. - -And just then Banks announced Mr. Dix. - -“Let him wait,” said I, greatly disturbed. - -“Show him up!” said my Lord, peremptorily. - -“No, no!” I protested; “he can wait. We shall have no business now.” - -But Banks was gone. And I found out, long afterward, that it was put up -between them. - -The agent swaggered in with that easy assurance he assumed whenever he -got the upper hand. He was the would-be squire once again, in top-boots -and a frock. I have rarely seen a man put out of countenance so easily -as was Mr. Dix that morning when he met his Lordship's fixed gaze from -the arm-chair. - -“And so you are turned Jew?” says he, tapping his snuffbox. “Before you -go ahead so fast again, you will please to remember, d--n you, that Mr. -Carvel is the kind that does not lose his friends with his fortune.” - -Mr. Dix made a salaam, which was so ludicrous in a squire that my Lord -roared with laughter, and I feared for his wound. - -“A man must live, my Lord,” sputtered the agent. His discomfiture was -painful. - -“At the expense of another,” says Comyn, dryly. “That is your motto in -Change Alley.” - -“If you will permit, Jack, I must have a few words in private with Mr. -Dix,” I cut in uneasily. - -His Lordship would be damned first. “I am not accustomed to be thwarted, -Richard, I tell you. Ask the dowager if I have not always had my way. I -am not going to stand by and see a man who saved my life fall into the -clutches of an usurer. Yes, I said usurer, Mr. Dix. My attorney, Mr. -Kennett, of Lincoln's Inn, has instructions to settle with you.” - -And, despite all I could say, he would not budge an inch. At last I -submitted under the threat that he would never after have a word to say -to me. By good luck, when I had paid into Mr. Dix's hand the thousand -pounds I had received from Charles Fox, and cleared my outstanding -bills, the sum I remained in Comyn's debt was not greatly above seven -hundred pounds. And that was the end of Mr. Dix for me; when he had -backed himself out in chagrin at having lost his ten per centum, my -feelings got the better of me. The water rushed to my eyes, and I -turned my back upon his Lordship. To conceal his own emotions he fell to -swearing like mad. - -“Fox will get you something,” he said at length, when he was a little -calmed. - -I told him, sadly, that my duty took me to America. - -“And Dorothy?” he said; “you will leave her?” - -I related the whole miserable story (all save the part of the locket), -for I felt that I owed it him. His excitement grew as he listened, until -I had to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he saw -nothing but good to come of it. - -“'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!” he cried. “Give me your hand. -Why, you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. She -loves you! Did I not say so? And as for that intriguing little puppy, -her father, you have pulled his teeth, egad. She heard what you said to -him, you tell me. Then he will never deceive her again, my word on't. -And Chartersea may come back to London, and be damned.” - - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. ANNAPOLIS ONCE MORE - -Three days after that I was at sea, in the Norfolk packet, with the -farewells of my loyal English friends ringing in my ears. Captain -Graham, the master of the packet, and his passengers found me but a poor -companion. But they had heard of my misfortune, and vied with each other -in heaping kindnesses upon me. Nor did they intrude on my walks in the -night watches, to see me slipping a locket from under my waistcoat--ay, -and raising it to my lips. 'Twas no doubt a blessing that I had lesser -misfortunes to share my attention. God had put me in the way of looking -forward rather than behind, and I was sure that my friends in Annapolis -would help me to an honest living, and fight my cause against Grafton. - -Banks was with me. The devoted soul did his best to cheer me, tho' -downcast himself at leaving England. To know what to do with him gave -me many an anxious moment. I doubted not that I could get him into -a service, but when I spoke of such a thing he burst into tears, and -demanded whether I meant to throw him off. Nor was any argument of mine -of use. - -After a fair and uneventful voyage of six weeks, I beheld again my -native shores in the low spits of the Virginia capes. The sand was very -hot and white, and the waters of the Chesapeake rolled like oil under -the July sun. We were all day getting over to Yorktown, the ship's -destination. A schooner was sailing for Annapolis early the next -morning, and I barely had time to get off my baggage and catch her. We -went up the bay with a fresh wind astern, which died down at night. - -The heat was terrific after England and the sea-voyage, and we slept on -the deck. And Banks sat, most of the day, exclaiming at the vast scale -on which this new country was laid out, and wondering at the myriad -islands we passed, some of them fair with grain and tobacco; and at the -low-lying shores clothed with forests, and broken by the salt marshes, -with now and then the manor-house of some gentleman-planter visible on -either side. Late on the second day I beheld again the cliffs that mark -the mouth of the Severn, then the sail-dotted roads and the roofs of -Annapolis. - -We landed, Banks and I, in a pinnace from the schooner, and so full was -my heart at the sight of the old objects that I could only gulp now and -then, and utter never a word. There was the dock where I had paced up -and down near the whole night, when Dolly had sailed away; and Pryse the -coachmaker's shop, and the little balcony upon which I had stood with -my grandfather, and railed in a boyish tenor at Mr. Hood. The sun cast -sharp, black shadows. And it being the middle of the dull season, when -the quality were at their seats, and the dinner-hour besides, the -town might have been a deserted one for its stillness, as tho' the -inhabitants had walked out of it, and left it so. I made my way, Banks -behind me, into Church Street, past the “Ship” tavern, which brought -memories of the brawl there, and of Captain Clapsaddle forcing the -mob, like chaff, before his sword. The bees were humming idly over the -sweet-scented gardens, and Farris, the clock-maker, sat at his door, and -nodded. He jerked his head as I went by with a cry of “Lord, it is Mr. -Richard back!” and I must needs pause, to let him bow over my hand. -Farther up the street I came to mine host of the Coffee House standing -on his steps, with his hands behind his back. - -“Mr. Claude,” I said. - -He looked at me as tho' I had risen from the dead. - -“God save us!” he shouted, in a voice that echoed through the narrow -street. “God save us!” - -He seemed to go all to pieces. To my bated questions he replied at -length, when he had got his breath, that Captain Clapsaddle had come -to town but the day before, and was even then in the coffee-room at his -dinner. Alone? Yes, alone. Almost tottering, I mounted the steps, and -turned in at the coffee-room door, and stopped. There sat the captain at -a table, the roast and wine untouched before him, his waistcoat thrown -open. He was staring out of the open window into the inn garden beyond, -with its shade of cherry trees. Mr. Claude's cry had not disturbed his -reveries, nor our talk after it. I went forward. I touched him on the -shoulder, and he sprang up, and looked once into my face, and by some -trick of the mind uttered the very words Mr. Claude had used. - -“God save us! Richard!” And he opened his arms and strained me to his -great chest, calling my name again and again, while the tears coursed -down the furrows of his cheeks. For I marked the furrows for the first -time, and the wrinkles settling in his forehead and around his eyes. -What he said when he released me, nor my replies, can I remember now, -but at last he called, in his ringing voice, to mine host: - -“A bottle from your choicest bin, Claude! Some of Mr. Bordley's. For he -that was lost is found.” - -The hundred questions I had longed to ask were forgotten. A peace stole -upon me that I had not felt since I had looked upon his face before. -The wine was brought by Mr. Claude, and opened, and it was mine host who -broke the silence, and the spell. - -“Your very good health, Mr. Richard,” he said; “and may you come to your -own again!” - -“I drink it with all my heart, Richard,” replied Captain Daniel. But he -glanced at me sadly, and his honest nature could put no hope into his -tone. “We have got him back again, Mr. Claude. And God has answered our -prayers. So let us be thankful.” And he sat down in silence, gazing at -me in pity and tenderness, while Mr. Claude withdrew. “I can give you -but a sad welcome home, my lad,” he said presently, with a hesitation -strange to him. “'Tis not the first bad news I have had to break in my -life to your family, but I pray it may be the last.” He paused. I knew -he was thinking of the black tidings he had once brought my mother. -“Richard, your grandfather is dead,” he ended abruptly. - -I nodded wonderingly. - -“What!” he exclaimed; “you have heard already?” - -“Mr. Manners told me, in London,” I said, completely mystified. - -“London!” he cried, starting forward. “London and Mr. Manners! Have you -been to London?” - -“You had my letters to Mr. Carvel?” I demanded, turning suddenly sick. - -His eye flashed. - -“Never a letter. We mourned you for dead, Richard. This is Grafton's -work!” he cried, springing to his feet and striking the table with his -great fist, so that the dishes jumped. “Grafton Carvel, the prettiest -villain in these thirteen colonies! Oh, we shall hang him some day.” - -“Then Mr. Carvel died without knowing that I was safe?” I interrupted. - -“On that I'll lay all my worldly goods,” replied Captain Daniel, -emphatically. “If any letters came to Marlboro' Street from you, Mr. -Carvel never dropped eyes on 'em.” - -“What a fool was I not to have written you!” I groaned. - -He drew his chair around the table, and close to mine. - -“Had the news that you escaped death been cried aloud in the streets, -my lad, 'twould never have got to your grandfather's ear,” he said, in -lower tones. “I will tell you what happened, tho' I have it at second -hand, being in the North, as you may remember. Grafton came in from Kent -and invested Marlboro' Street. He himself broke the news to Mr. Carvel, -who took to his bed. Leiden was not in attendance, you may be sure, but -that quack-doctor Drake. Swain sent me a message, and I killed a horse -getting here from New York. But I could no more gain admittance to your -grandfather, Richard, than to King George the Third. I was met in the -hall by that crocodile, who told me with too many fair words that I -could not see my old friend; that for the present Dr. Drake denied him -everybody. Then I damned Dr. Drake, and Grafton too. And I let him know -my suspicions. He ordered me off, Richard--from that house which has -been my only home for these twenty years.” His voice broke. - -“Mr. Carvel thought me dead, then.” - -“And most mercifully. Your black Hugo, when he was somewhat recovered, -swore he had seen you killed and carried off. Sooth, they say there was -blood enough on the place. But we spared no pains to obtain a clew of -you. I went north to Boston, and Lloyd's factor south to Charleston. But -no trace of the messenger who came to the Coffee House after you could -we find. Hell had opened and swallowed him. And mark this for consummate -villany: Grafton himself spent no less than five hundred pounds in -advertising and the like.” - -“And he is not suspected?” I asked. This was the same question I had put -to Mrs. Manners. It caused the captain to flare up again. - -“'Tis incredible how a rogue may impose upon men of worth and integrity -if he but know how to smirk piously, and never miss a service. And then -he is an exceeding rich man. Riches cover a multitude of sins in the -most virtuous community in the world. Your Aunt Caroline brought him -a pretty fortune, you know. We had ominous times this spring, with the -associations forming, and the 'Good Intent' and the rest being sent -back to England. His Excellency was at his wits' end for support. It was -Grafton Carvel who helped him most, and spent money like tobacco for the -King's cause, which, being interpreted, was for his own advancement. But -I believe Colonel Lloyd suspects him, tho' he has never said as much to -me. I have told Mr. Swain, under secrecy, what I think. He is one of -the ablest lawyers that the colony owns, Richard, and a stanch friend -of yours. He took your case of his own accord. But he says we have no -foothold as yet.” - -When I asked if there was a will the captain rapped out an oath. - -“'Sdeath! yes,” he cried, “a will in favour of Grafton and his heirs, -witnessed by Dr. Drake, they say, and another scoundrel. Your name does -not occur throughout the length and breadth of it. You were dead. But -you will have to ask Mr. Swain for those particulars. My dear old friend -was sadly gone when he wrote it, I fear. For he never lacked shrewdness -in his best days. Nor,” added Captain Daniel, with force, “nor did he -want for a proper estimation of Grafton.” - -“He has never been the same since that first sickness,” I answered -sadly. - -When the captain came to speak of Mr. Carvel's death, the son and -daughter he loved, and the child of his old age in the grave before -him, he proceeded brokenly, and the tears blinded him. Mr. Carvel's last -words will never be known, my dears. They sounded in the unfeeling ears -of the serpent Grafton. 'Twas said that he was seen coming out of his -father's house an hour after the demise, a smile on his face which he -strove to hide with a pucker of sorrow. But by God's grace Mr. Allen had -not read the prayers. The rector was at last removed from Annapolis, and -had obtained the fat living of Frederick which he coveted. - -“As I hope for salvation,” the captain concluded, “I will swear there is -not such another villain in the world as Grafton. The imagination of a -fiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime he -has committed. And the Borgias were children to him. 'Twas not only the -love of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father. That -was his strongest motive, I believe. However, the days are coming, lad, -when he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail. And we have had -enough of sober talk,” said he, pressing me to eat. “Faith, but just -now, when you came in, I was thinking of you, Richard. And--God forgive -me! complaining against the lot of my life. And thinking, now that you -were taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone, -how little I had to live for. Now you are home again,” says he, his eyes -lighting on me with affection, “I count the gray hairs as nothing. Let -us have your story, and be merry. Nay, I might have guessed you had been -in London, with your fine clothes and your English servant.” - -'Twas a long story, as you know, my dears. He lighted his pipe and laid -his big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of that -which had happened to me. But I left out the whole of that concerning -Mr. Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of the -sponging-house. I believe my only motive for this omittance was a -reluctance to dwell upon Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father for -her sake. He dropped many a vigorous exclamation into my pauses, but -when I came to speak of my friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow clouded -over. - -“'Ad's heart!” he cried, “'Ad's heart! And so you are turned Tory, and -have at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved you -most. In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you, -Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice.” - -I laughed aloud. - -“And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton, -and Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship's seat?” - said I. - -His honest face was a picture of consternation. - -“Now the good Lord deliver us!” he exclaimed fervently. “Sandwich! -Grafton! The devil!” - -I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I had -heard of Mr. Carvel's death. - -“And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune,” I went on, “he -offered me a position under Government.” - -“Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?” he said, -his face getting purple. “Are you Jack Carvel's son, or are you an -impostor?” - -“I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am -here,” I replied. “I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might -have converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently -long,” I added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, I -related how I had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat he -gave a great, joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back. - -“You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!” And he called to Mr. Claude for -another bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association. -He peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. -Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? “I would not doubt -a Carvel's word,” says the captain, “(always excepting Grafton and his -line, as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend why -Mr. Fox and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion as -you--and after the speech you made 'em.” - -I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friends -cared a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my frankness -had entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste for -a bit of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant, -easy nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set, -without aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between the -shoulders. - -“It was so with Jack,” he cried; “thou art a replica. He would have made -friends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest of -us Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out of -England, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight with -Jack, tho' he gave them ample provocation. There was Tetherington, -of the 22d foot,--who jeered us for damned provincials, and swaggered -through three duels in a week,--would enter no quarrel with him. I can -hear him say: 'Damn you, Carvel, you may slap my face and you will, or -walk in ahead of me at the general's dinner and you will, but I like you -too well to draw at you. I would not miss your company at table for all -the world.' And when he was killed,” Captain Daniel continued, lowering -his voice, “some of them cried like women, Tetherington among 'em,--and -swore they would rather have lost their commissions at high play.” - -We sat talking until the summer's dusk grew on apace, and one thing this -devoted lover of my family told me, which lightened my spirits of the -greatest burden that had rested upon them since my calamity befell me. -I had dwelt at length upon my Lord Comyn, and upon the weight of his -services to me, and touched upon the sum which I stood in his debt. The -captain interrupted me. - -“One day, before your mother died, she sent for me,” said he, “and -I came to Carvel Hall. You were too young to remember. It was in -September, and she was sitting on the seat under the oak she loved so -well,--by Dr. Hilliard's study. - -“The lace shawl your father had given her was around her shoulders, -and upon her face was the smile that gave me a pang to see. For it had -something of heaven in it, Richard. She called me 'Daniel' then for the -second time in her life. She bade me be seated beside her. 'Daniel,' she -said, 'when I am gone, and father is gone, it is you who will take care -of Richard. I sometimes believe all may not be well then, and that he -will need you.' I knew she was thinking of Grafton,” said the captain. -“'I have a little money of my own, Daniel, which I have saved lately -with this in view. I give it into your charge, and if trouble comes to -him, my old friend, you will use it as you see fit.' - -“It was a bit under a thousand pounds, Richard. And when she died I put -it out under Mr. Carroll's direction at safe interest. So that you -have enough to discharge your debt, and something saved against another -emergency.” - -He fell silent, sunk into one of those reveries which the memory of my -mother awoke in him. My own thoughts drifted across the sea. I was again -at the top of the stairs in Arlington Street, and feeling the dearest -presence in the world. The pale oval of Dorothy's face rose before me -and the troubled depths of her blue eyes. And I heard once more the -tremble in her voice as she confessed, in words of which she took no -heed, that love for which I had sought in vain. - -The summer dusk was gathering. Outside, under the cherry trees, I -saw Banks holding forth to an admiring circle of negro 'ostlers. And -presently Mr. Claude came in to say that Shaw, the town carpenter, and -Sol Mogg, the ancient sexton of St. Anne's, and several more of my old -acquaintances were without, and begged the honour of greeting me. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. NOBLESSE OBLIGE - -I lay that night in Captain Clapsaddle's lodgings opposite, and slept -soundly. Banks was on hand in the morning to assist at my toilet, and -was greatly downcast when I refused him this privilege, for the first -time. Captain Daniel was highly pleased with the honest fellow's -devotion in following me to America. To cheer him he began to question -him as to my doings in London, and the first thing of which Banks must -tell was of the riding-contest in Hyde Park, which I had omitted. It is -easy to imagine how this should have tickled the captain, who always had -my horsemanship at heart; and when it came to Chartersea's descent into -the Serpentine, I thought he would go into apoplexy. For he had put on -flesh with the years. - -The news of my return had spread all over town, so that I had a deal -more handshaking to do when we went to the Coffee House for breakfast. -All the quality were in the country, of course, save only four gentlemen -of the local Patriots' committee, of which Captain Daniel was a member, -and with whom he had an appointment at ten. It was Mr. Swain who arrived -first of the four. - -This old friend of my childhood was a quiet man (I may not have -specified), thin, and a little under stature, with a receding but -thoughtful forehead. But he could express as much of joy and welcome in -his face and manner as could Captain Daniel with his heartier ways. - -“It does me good to see you, lad,” he said, pressing my hand. “I heard -you were home, and sent off an express to Patty and the mother last -night.” - -“And are they not here?” I asked, with disappointment. - -Mr. Swain smiled. - -“I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little -plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton's. It will be my ruin,” he -added. “A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions.” - -“A little plantation!” echoed the captain. “'Od's life, he has bought -one of his Lordship's own manors--as good an estate as there is in the -province.” - -“You overdo it, Daniel,” said he, reprovingly. - -At that moment there was a stir in the doorway, and in came Mr. Carroll, -the barrister, and Mr. Bordley and Colonel Lloyd. These gentlemen gave -me such a welcome as those warm-hearted planters and lawyers knew how to -bestow. - -“What, he!” cried Mr. Lloyd, “I'm stamped and taxed if it isn't young -Richard Carvel himself. Well,” says he, “I know one who will sleep -easier o' nights now,--one Clapsaddle. The gray hairs are forgot, -Daniel. We had more to-do over your disappearance than when Mr. -Worthington lost his musical nigger. Where a deuce have you been, sir?” - -“He shall tell us when we come back,” said Mr. Bordley. “He has brought -our worthy association to a standstill once, and now we must proceed -about our business. Will you come, Richard? I believe you have proved -yourself a sufficiently good patriot, and in this very house.” - -We went down Church Street, I walking behind with Colonel Lloyd, and so -proud to be in such company that I cared not a groat whether Grafton -had my acres or not. I remembered that the committee all wore plain and -sober clothes, and carried no swords. Mr. Swain alone had a wig. I had -been away but seven months, and yet here was a perceptible change. In -these dignified and determined gentlemen England had more to fear than -in all the mobs at Mr. Wilkes's back. How I wished that Charles Fox -might have been with me. - -The sun beat down upon the street. The shopkeepers were gathered at -their doors, but their chattering was hushed as the dreaded committee -passed. More than one, apparently, had tasted of its discipline. Colonel -Lloyd whispered to me to keep my countenance, that they were not -after very large game that morning,--only Chipchase, the butcher. -And presently we came upon the rascal putting up his shutters in much -precipitation, although it was noon. He had shed his blood-stained smock -and breeches, and donned his Sunday best,--a white, thick-set coat, -country cloth jacket, blue broadcloth breeches, and white shirt. A -grizzled cut wig sat somewhat awry under his bearskin hat. When he -perceived Mr. Carroll at his shoulder, he dropped his shutter against -the wall, and began bowing frantically. - -“You keep good hours, Master Chipchase,” remarked Colonel Lloyd. - -“And lose good customers,” Mr. Swain added laconically. - -The butcher wriggled. - -“Your honours must know there be little selling when the gentry be -out of town. And I was to take a holiday to-day, to see my daughter -married.” - -“You will have a feast, my good man?” Captain Daniel asked. - -“To be sure, your honour, a feast.” - -“And any little ewe-lambs?” says Mr. Bordley, very innocent. - -Master Chipchase turned the colour of his meat, and his wit failed him. - -“'Fourthly,'” recited Mr. Carroll, with an exceeding sober face, -“'Fourthly, that we will not kill, or suffer to be killed, or sell, or -dispose to any person whom we have reason to believe intends to kill, -any ewe-lamb that shall be weaned before the first day of May, in any -year during the time aforesaid.' Have you ever heard anything of that -sound, Mr. Chipchase?” - -Mr. Chipchase had. And if their honours pleased, he had a defence to -make, if their honours would but listen. And if their honours but knew, -he was as good a patriot as any in the province, and sold his wool to -Peter Psalter, and he wore the homespun in winter. Then Mr. Carroll -drew a paper from his pocket, and began to read: “Mr. Thomas Hincks, -personally known to me, deposeth and saith,--” - -Master Chipchase's knees gave from under him. - -“And your honours please,” he cried piteously, “I killed the lamb, -but 'twas at Mr. Grafton Carvel's order, who was in town with his -Excellency.” (Here Mr. Swain and the captain glanced significantly at -me.) “And I lose Mr. Carvel's custom, there is twelve pounds odd gone a -year, your honours. And I am a poor man, sirs.” - -“Who is it owns your shop, my man?” asks Mr. Bordley, very sternly. - -“Oh, I beg your honours will not have me put out--” - -The wailing of his voice had drawn a crowd of idlers and brother -shopkeepers, who seemed vastly to enjoy the knave's discomfiture. -Amongst them I recognized my old acquaintance, Weld, now a rival -butcher. He pushed forward boldly. - -“And your honours please,” said he, “he has sold lamb to half the Tory -gentry in Annapolis.” - -“A lie!” cried Chipchase; “a lie, as God hears me!” - -Now Captain Clapsaddle was one who carried his loves and his hatreds to -the grave, and he had never liked Weld since the day, six years gone by, -he had sent me into the Ship tavern. And when Weld heard the captain's -voice he slunk away without a word. - -“Have a care, Master Weld,” says he, in a quiet tone that boded no good; -“there is more evidence against you than you will like.” - -Master Chipchase, after being frightened almost out of his senses, was -pardoned this once by Captain Daniel's influence. We went thence to Mr. -Hildreth's shop; he was suspected of having got tea out of a South River -snow; then to Mr. Jackson's; and so on. 'Twas after two when we got -back to the Coffee House, and sat down to as good a dinner as Mr. Claude -could prepare. “And now,” cried Colonel Lloyd, “we shall have your -adventures, Richard. I would that your uncle were here to listen to -them,” he added dryly. - -I recited them very much as I had done the night before, and I warrant -you, my dears, that they listened with more zest and eagerness than did -Mr. Walpole. But they were all shrewd men, and kept their suspicions, -if they had any, to themselves. Captain Daniel would have me omit -nothing,--my intimacy with Mr. Fox, the speech at Brooks's Club, and the -riding-match at Hyde Park. - -“What say you to that, gentlemen?” he cried. “Egad, I'll be sworn he -deserves credit,--an arrant young spark out of the Colonies, scarce -turned nineteen, defeating a duke of the realm on horseback, and -preaching the gospel of 'no taxation' at Brooks's Club! Nor the favour -of Sandwich or March could turn him from his principles.” - -Modesty, my dears, does not permit me to picture the enthusiasm of these -good gentlemen, who bore the responsibility of the colony of Maryland -upon their shoulders. They made more of me than I deserved. In vain did -I seek to explain that if a young man was but well-born, and had a full -purse and a turn for high play, his principles might go hang, for all -Mr. Fox cared. Colonel Lloyd commanded that the famous rose punch-bowl -be filled to the brim with Mr. Claude's best summer brew, and they drank -my health and my grandfather's memory. It mattered little to them that I -was poor. They vowed I should not lose by my choice. Mr. Bordley offered -me a home, and added that I should have employment enough in the days -to come. Mr. Carroll pressed me likewise. And big-hearted Colonel Lloyd -desired to send me to King's College, as was my grandfather's wish, -where Will Fotheringay and my cousin Philip had been for a term. I might -make a barrister of myself. Mr. Swain alone was silent and thoughtful, -but I did not for an instant doubt that he would have done as much for -me. - -Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions -concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his -Majesty and Parliament. I say without vanity that I was able to -enlighten them not a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the -set into which I had fallen in London than if I had become the confidant -of Rockingham himself. America was a long way from England in those -days. I regretted that I had not arrived in London in time to witness -Lord Chatham's dramatic return to politics in January, when he had -completed the work of Junius, and broken up the Grafton ministry. But -I told them of the debate I had heard in St. Stephen's, and made them -laugh over Mr. Fox's rescue of the King's friends, and the hustling of -Mr. Burke from the Lords. - -They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much -ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with -him. They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a -bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr. -Courtenay's letter had stated. I replied that it was so. I did not add -that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine. -Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall. I made no doubt these things -would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell -them. Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I -would come with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say -to me. We went the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him -for avoiding Marlboro' Street, which must needs bring me painful -recollections. He said little on the way. - -I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered -porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely -empty without her. Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for -us under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree. The air was -still, and heavy with the flowers' scent, and the sun was dipping behind -the low eaves of the house. It was so natural to be there that I scarce -realized all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the -picket fence. Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it -and over the wall to Marlboro' Street. Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts. - -“Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will, -Richard,” he began abruptly. “Altho' we thought never to see you again, -we have hoped against hope. I fear you have little chance for your -property, my lad.” - -I replied that Captain Daniel had so led me to believe, and thanked him -for his kindness and his trouble. - -“'Twas no trouble,” he replied quickly. “Indeed, I wish it might have -been. I shall always think of your grandfather with reverence and with -sorrow. He was a noble man, and was a friend to me, in spite of my -politics, when other gentlemen of position would not invite me to their -houses. It would be the greatest happiness of my life if I could restore -his property to you, where he would have had it go, and deprive that -villain, your uncle, of the fruits of his crime.” - -“Then there is nothing to be got by contesting the will?” I asked. - -He shook his head soberly. - -“I fear not at present,” said he, “nor can I with honesty hold out any -hope to you, Richard. Your uncle, by reason of his wealth, is a man of -undue influence with the powers of the colony. Even if he were not so, I -doubt greatly whether we should be the gainers. The will is undoubtedly -genuine. Mr. Carvel thought you dead, and we cannot prove undue -influence by Grafton unless we also prove that it was he who caused your -abduction. Do you think you can prove that?” - -“There is one witness,” I exclaimed, “who overheard my uncle and Mr. -Allen talking of South River and Griggs, the master of the slaver, in -the stables at Carvel Hall.” - -“And who is that?” demanded Mr. Swain, with more excitement than I -believed him capable of. - -“Old Harvey.” - -Your grandfather's coachman? Alas, he died the day after Mr. Carvel, and -was buried the same afternoon. Have you spoken of this?” - -“Not to a soul,” said I. - -“Then I would not. You will have to be very careful and say nothing, -Richard. Let me hear what other reasons you have for believing that your -uncle tried to do away with you.” - -I told him, lucidly as possible, everything I have related in these -pages, and the admission of Griggs. He listened intently, shaking his -head now and then, but not a word out of him. - -“No,” he said at length, “nothing is there which will be admitted, but -enough to damn him if you yourself might be a witness. I will give you -the law, briefly: descendible estates among us are of two kinds, estates -in fee simple and estates in fee tail. Had your grandfather died without -a will, his estate, which we suppose to be in fee simple, would have -descended to you as the son of his eldest son, according to the fourth -of the canons of descent in Blackstone. But with us fee simple estates -are devisable, and Mr. Carvel was wholly within his right in cutting off -the line of his eldest son. Do you follow me?” - -I nodded. - -“There is one chance,” he continued, “and that is a very slim one. I -said that Mr. Carvel's estate was supposed to be in fee simple. -Estates tail are not devisable. Our system of registration is far from -infallible, and sometimes an old family settlement turns up to prove -that a property which has been willed out of the direct line, as in -fee simple, is in reality entailed. Is there a possibility of any such -document?” - -I replied that I did not know. My grandfather had never brought up the -subject. - -“We must bend our efforts in that direction,” said the barrister. “I -shall have my clerks make a systematic search.” - -He ceased talking, and sat sipping his sangaree in the abstracted manner -common to him. I took the opportunity to ask about his family, thinking -about what Dolly had said of Patty's illness. - -“The mother is as well as can be expected, Richard, and Patty very -rosy with the country air. Your disappearance was a great shock to them -both.” - -“And Tom?” - -He went behind his reserve. “Tom is a d--d rake,” he exclaimed, with -some vehemence. “I have given him over. He has taken up with that -macaroni Courtenay, who wins his money,--or rather my money,--and your -cousin Philip, when he is home from King's College. How Tom can be son -of mine is beyond me, in faith. I see him about once in two months, when -he comes here with a bill for his satins and his ruffles, and along face -of repentance, and a lot of gaming debts to involve my honour. And that -reminds me, Richard,” said he, looking straight at me with his clear, -dark eyes: “have you made any plans for your future?” - -I ventured to ask his advice as to entering the law. - -“As the only profession open to a gentleman,” he replied, smiling a -little. “No, you were no more cut out for an attorney, or a barrister, -or a judge, than was I for a macaroni doctor. The time is not far away, -my lad,” he went on, seeing my shame and confusion, “when an American -may amass money in any way he chooses, and still be a gentleman, behind -a counter, if he will.” - -“I do not fear work, Mr. Swain,” I remarked, with some pride. - -“That is what I have been thinking,” he said shortly. “And I am not a -man to make up my mind while you count three, Richard. I have the place -in Talbot, and no one to look after it. And--and in short I think you -are the man.” - -He paused to watch the effect of this upon me. But I was so taken aback -by this new act of kindness that I could not say a word. - -“Tom is fast going to the devil, as I told you,” he continued. “He -cannot be trusted. If I die, that estate shall be Patty's, and he may -never squander it. Captain Daniel tells me, and Mr. Bordley also, that -you managed at Carvel Hall with sense and ability. I know you are very -young, but I think I may rely upon you.” - -Again he hesitated, eying me fixedly. - -“Ah,” said he, with his quiet smile, “it is the old noblesse oblige. How -many careers has it ruined since the world began!” - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES - -I was greatly touched, and made Mr. Swain many awkward acknowledgments, -which he mercifully cut short. I asked him for a while to think over -his offer. This seemed to please rather than displease him. And my first -impulse on reaching the inn was to ask the captain's advice. I thought -better of it however, and at length resolved to thrash out the matter -for myself. - -The next morning, as I sat reflecting, an overwhelming desire seized me -to go to Marlboro' Street. Hitherto I could not have borne the sight of -the old place. I gulped down my emotion as the gate creaked behind me, -and made my way slowly to the white seat under the big chestnut behind -the house, where my grandfather had been wont to sit reading his prints, -in the warm weather. The flowers and the hedges had grown to a certain -wildness; and the smell of the American roses carried me back-as odours -will-to long-forgotten and trivial scenes. Here I had been caned many a -day for Mr. Daaken's reports, and for earlier offences. And I recalled -my mother as she once ran out at the sound of my cries to beg me off. So -vivid was that picture that I could hear Mr. Carvel say: “He is yours, -madam, not mine. Take him!” - -I started up. The house was still, the sun blistering the green paint of -the shutters. My eye was caught by those on the room that had been hers, -and which, by my grandfather's decree, had lain closed since she left -it. The image of it grew in my mind: the mahogany bed with its poppy -counterpane and creamy curtains, and the steps at the side by which -she was wont to enter it; and the 'prie-dieu', whence her soul had been -lifted up to God. And the dresser with her china and silver upon it, -covered by years of dust. For I had once stolen the key from Willis's -bunch, crept in, and crept out again, awed. That chamber would be -profaned, now, and those dear ornaments, which were mine, violated. The -imagination choked me. - -I would have them. I must. Nothing easier than to pry open a door or -window in the north wing, by the ball-room. When I saw Grafton I would -tell him. Nay, I would write him that day. I was even casting about me -for an implement, when I heard a step on the gravel beside me. - -I swung around, and came face to face with my uncle. - -He must have perceived me. And after the first shock of my surprise had -passed, I remarked a bearing on him that I had not seen before. He was -master of the situation at last,--so it read. The realization gave him -an easier speech than ever. - -“I thought I might find you here, Richard,” he said, “since you were not -at the Coffee House.” - -He did not offer me his hand. I could only stare at him, for I had -expected anything but this. - -“I came from Carvel Hall to get you,” he proceeded smoothly enough. -“I heard but yesterday of your return, and some of your miraculous -adventures. Your recklessness has caused us many a trying day, Richard, -and I believe killed your grandfather. You have paid dearly, and have -made us pay dearly, for your mad frolic of fighting cut-throats on the -highroad.” - -The wonder was that I did not kill him on the spot. I cannot think what -possessed the man,--he must have known me better. - -“My recklessness!” I shouted, fairly hoarse with anger. I paid no heed -to Mr. Swain's warning. “You d--d scoundrel!” I cried, “it was you -killed him, and you know it. When you had put me out of the way and -he was in your power, you tortured him to death. You forced him to die -alone with your sneering face, while your shrew of a wife counted cards -downstairs. Grafton Carvel, God knows you better than I, who know you -two well. And He will punish you as sure as the crack of doom.” - -He heard me through, giving back as I came forward, his face blanching -only a little, and wearing all the time that yellow smile which so -fitted it. - -“You have finished?” says he. - -“Ay, I have finished. And now you may order me from this ground you -have robbed me of. But there are some things in that house you shall not -steal, for they are mine despite you.” - -“Name them, Richard,” he said, very sorrowful. - -“The articles in my mother's room, which were hers.” - -“You shall have them this day,” he answered. - -It was his way never to lose his temper, tho' he were called by the -vilest name in the language. He must always assume this pious grief -which made me long to throttle him. He had the best of me, even now, as -he took the great key from his pocket. - -“Will you look at them before you go?” he asked. - -At first I was for refusing. Then I nodded. He led the way silently -around by the front; and after he had turned the lock he stepped aside -with a bow to let me pass in ahead of him. Once more I was in the -familiar hall with the stairs dividing at the back. It was cool after -the heat, and musty, and a touch of death hung in the prisoned air. -We paused for a moment on the landing, beside the high, triple-arched -window which the branches tapped on windy winter days, while Grafton -took down the bunch of keys from beside the clock. I thought of my dear -grandfather winding it every Sunday, and his ruddy face and large figure -as he stood glancing sidewise down at me. Then the sound of Grafton's -feet upon the bare steps recalled the present. - -We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the -ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open -the window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not -foreign to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when -at last it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the -ray of sunlight from the window. I entered reverently. I took only -the silverbound prayer-book, cast a lingering look at the old familiar -objects dimly defined, and came out and locked the door again. I said -very quietly that I would send for the things that afternoon, for my -anger was hushed by what I had seen. - -We halted together on the uncovered porch in front of the house, that -had a seat set on each side of it. Marlboro' Street was still, the wide -trees which flanked it spreading their shade over walk and roadway. Not -a soul was abroad in the midday heat, and the windows of the long house -opposite were sightless. - -“Richard,” said my uncle, staring ahead of him, “I came to offer you a -home, and you insult me brutally, as you have done unreproved all your -life. And yet no one shall say of me that I shirk my duty. But first I -must ask you if there is aught else you desire of me.” - -“The black boy, Hugo, is mine,” I said. I had no great love for Hugo, -save for association's sake, and I had one too many servants as it was; -but to rescue one slave from Grafton's clutches was charity. - -“You shall have him,” he replied, “and your chaise, and your wardrobe, -and your horses, and whatever else I have that belongs to you. As I was -saying, I will not shirk my duty. The memory of my dear father, and of -what he would have wished, will not permit me to let you go a-begging. -You shall be provided for out of the estate, despite what you have said -and done.” - -This was surely the quintessence of a rogue's imagination. Instinctively -I shrank from him. With a show of piety that 'turned me sick he -continued: - -“Let God witness that I carry out my father's will!” - -“Stop there, Grafton Carvel!” I cried; “you shall not take His name in -vain. Under this guise of holiness you and your accomplice have done the -devil's own work, and the devil will reward you.” - -This reference to Mr. Allen, I believe, frightened him. For a second -only did he show it. - -“My--my accomplice, sir!” he stammered. And then righting himself: “You -will have to explain this, by Heaven.” - -“In ample time your plot shall be laid bare, and you and his Reverence -shall hang, or lie in chains.” - -“You threaten, Mr. Carvel?” he shouted, nearly stepping off the porch in -his excitement. - -“Nay, I predict,” I replied calmly. And I went down the steps and out -of the gate, he looking after me. Before I had turned the corner of -Freshwater Lane, he was in the seat, and fanning himself with his hat. - -I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the -good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between -the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard -of my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son -(for the fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no -more help flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or -Cynthia his back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my -recital, when Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker, -which caused Mr. Swain to let out a whistle of surprise. - -“So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel,” said he. “I thought so.” - -Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put -his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man -was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to -talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which -he enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of -Mr. Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate -lying in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less -of arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the -indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard -Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare -of his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his -obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the -acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing -forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel. -This condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not -understand a word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in -English. His quiet laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger, who -had before been sufficiently ill at ease in the presence of the great -lawyer. Mr. Tucker blew his nose loudly to hide his confusion. - -“And what say you, Richard?” said Mr. Swain, without a shade of accent -in his voice. - -I bowed my head. I knew that the honest barrister had read my heart -when he spoke of noblesse oblige. That senseless pride of cast, so -deep-rooted in those born in our province, had made itself felt. To be -a factor (so I thought, for I was young) was to renounce my birth. Until -that moment of travail the doctrine of equality had seemed very pretty -to me. Your fine gentleman may talk as nobly as he pleases over his -Madeira, and yet would patronize Monsieur Rousseau if he met him; and he -takes never a thought of those who knuckle to him every day, and clean -his boots and collect his rents. But when he is tried in the fire, -and told suddenly to collect some one else's rents and curse another's -negroes, he is fainthearted for the experiment. So it was with me when -I had to meet the issue. I might take Grafton's offer, and the chance -to marry Dorothy was come again. For by industry the owner of the Kent -lands would become rich. - -The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies. When I -looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me. - -“You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer,” I said. - -He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble -servitude bowed himself out. - -The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands. - -“What said I, Henry?” he cried. “Did I not know the lad?” - -Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat. He was still gazing at me with a -curious expression. And then I saw the world in truer colour. This good -Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for -my rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and -obscurity. I stood, humbled before him. - -“I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain,” I said, vainly trying to -steady my voice, “but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed -me here from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my -uncle. I will make over the black to you and you will have him.” - -He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm. “You -and the captain dine with me to-day,” says he. “And as for Banks, I -think that can be arranged. Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained -butler, egad. I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard. -But we'll be off for Cordon's Pride in the morning, and I know of one -little girl will be glad to see us.” - -We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street. And the captain -argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker's visit betrayed a weak point -in Grafton's position. But the barrister shook his head and said that -Grafton was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared -me. It was Mr. Swain's opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put -himself in a good light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little -revenge mixed therein, as the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had -given him when he cast him off. - -A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain -and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next -morning. We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on -the soil of my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past -Master Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for -it is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and -Wilmot House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the -horse's neck, so that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of -comment when I overtook him again. - -'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected -at the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly -wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt. -He drew up, and glanced at me. - -“You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these,” - said he. “The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than -husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a -rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore -gentlemen, especially in Dorchester,” he added; “they get to be -fishmongers.” - -Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in -Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That -day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered -about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and -youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood -immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves -rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse -and took her hands. - -“So you like my surprise, girl?” said her father, as he kissed her -blushing face. - -For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad -porch in front. - -“Our barrister is come, mother,” we heard her exclaiming, “and whom do -you think he has brought?” - -“Is it Richard?” asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual. - -I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She -was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me -toward her, kissing me on both cheeks. - -“I thank God for His goodness,” said she. - -“And the boy has come to stay, mother,” said her husband, as he stooped -over her. - -“To stay!” cries Patty. - -“Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home,” replied the barrister. “And now -I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will -be well looked after.” - -Patty gasped. - -“Oh, I am so glad!” said she, “I could almost rejoice that his uncle -cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?” - -“He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear,” says her father, -smiling and tilting her chin; “we shall have no such persons as factors -here.” - -At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, -and then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, -Percy Singleton. - -“May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard,” said he, in his manly way; “and -rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?” - -“Thank you, Percy,” I answered. I was not in a state to say much more. - -“And now,” exclaims Patty, “what a dinner we shall have in the -prodigal's honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. -Brice told me of.” - -She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing -in the kitchen. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. GORDON'S PRIDE - -The years of a man's life that count the most are often those which may -be passed quickest in the story of it. And so I may hurry over the first -years I spent as Mr. Swain's factor at Gordon's Pride. The task that -came to my hand was heaven-sent. - -That manor-house, I am sure, was the tidiest in all Maryland, thanks to -Patty's New England blood. She was astir with the birds of a morning, -and near the last to retire at night, and happy as the days were long. -She was ever up to her elbows in some dish, and her butter and her -biscuits were the best in the province. Little she cared to work -samplers, or peacocks in pretty wools, tho' in some way she found -the time to learn the spinet. As the troubles with the mother country -thickened, she took to a foot-wheel, and often in the crisp autumn -evenings I would hear the bumping of it as I walked to the house, and -turn the knob to come upon her spinning by the twilight. She would have -no English-made linen in that household. “If mine scratch your back, -Richard,” she would say, “you must grin and bear, and console yourself -with your virtue.” It was I saw to the flax, and learned from Ivie -Rawlinson (who had come to us from Carvel Hall) the best manner to -ripple and break and swingle it. And Mr. Swain, in imitation of the -high example set by Mr. Bordley, had buildings put up for wheels and the -looms, and in due time kept his own sheep. - -If man or woman, white or black, fell sick on the place, it was Patty -herself who tended them. She knew the virtue of every herb in the big -chest in the storeroom. And at table she presided over her father's -guests with a womanliness that won her more admiration than mine. Now -that the barrister was become a man of weight, the house was as crowded -as ever was Carvel Hall. Carrolls and Pacas and Dulanys and Johnsons, -and Lloyds and Bordleys and Brices and Scotts and Jennings and Ridouts, -and Colonel Sharpe, who remained in the province, and many more families -of prominence which I have not space to mention, all came to Gordon's -Pride. Some of these, as their names proclaim, were of the King's side; -but the bulk of Mr. Swain's company were stanch patriots, and toasted -Miss Patty instead of his Majesty. By this I do not mean that they -lacked loyalty, for it is a matter of note that our colony loved King -George. - -I must not omit from the list above the name of my good friend, Captain -Clapsaddle. - -Nor was there lack of younger company. Betty Tayloe, who plied me -with questions concerning Dorothy and London, but especially about the -dashing and handsome Lord Comyn; and the Dulany girls, and I know not -how many others. Will Fotheringay, when he was home from college, and -Archie Brice, and Francis Willard (whose father was now in the Assembly) -and half a dozen more to court Patty, who would not so much as look at -them. And when I twitted her with this she would redden and reply: “I -was created for a housewife, sir, and not to make eyes from behind a -fan.” Indeed, she was at her prettiest and best in the dimity frock, -with the sleeves rolled up. - -'Twas a very merry place, the manor of Gordon's Pride. A generous bowl -of punch always stood in the cool hall, through which the south winds -swept from off the water, and fruit and sangaree and lemonade were on -the table there. The manor had no ball-room, but the negro fiddlers -played in the big parlour. And the young folks danced till supper time. -In three months Patty's suppers grew famous in a colony where there was -no lack of good cooks. - -The sweet-natured invalid enjoyed these festivities in her quiet way, -and often pressed me to partake. So did Patty beg me, and Mr. Swain. -Perhaps a false sense of pride restrained me, but my duties held me all -day in the field, and often into the night when there was curing to be -done, or some other matters of necessity. And for the rest, I thought I -detected a change in the tone of Mr. Fotheringay, and some others, tho' -it may have been due to sensibility on my part. I would put up with no -patronage. - -There was no change of tone, at least, with the elder gentlemen. They -plainly showed me an added respect. And so I fell into the habit, after -my work was over, of joining them in their suppers rather than the sons -and daughters. There I was made right welcome. The serious conversation -spiced with the wit of trained barristers and men of affairs better -suited my changed condition of life. The times were sober, and for those -who could see, a black cloud was on each horizon. 'Twas only a matter -of months when the thunder-clap was to come-indeed, enough was going on -within our own province to forebode a revolution. The Assembly to which -many of these gentlemen belonged was in a righteous state of opposition -to the Proprietary and the Council concerning the emoluments of colonial -officers and of clergymen. Honest Governor Eden had the misfortune to -see the justice of our side, and was driven into a seventh state by his -attempts to square his conscience. Bitter controversies were waging -in the Gazette, and names were called and duels fought weekly. For -our cause “The First Citizen” led the van, and the able arguments and -moderate language of his letters soon identified him as Mr. Charles -Carroll of Carrollton, one of the greatest men Maryland has ever known. -But even at Mr. Swain's, amongst his few intimate friends, Mr. Carroll -could never be got to admit his 'nom de guerre' until long after -'Antilon' had been beaten. - -I write it with pride, that at these suppers I was sometimes asked to -speak; and, having been but lately to England, to give my opinion upon -the state of affairs there. Mr. Carroll honoured me upon two occasions -with his confidence, and I was made clerk to a little club they had, and -kept the minutes in my own hand. - -I went about in homespun, which, if good enough for Mr. Bordley, was -good enough for me. I rode with him over the estate. This gentleman -was the most accomplished and scientific farmer we had in the province. -Having inherited his plantation on Wye Island, near Carvel Hall, he -resigned his duties as judge, and a lucrative practice, to turn all his -energies to the cultivation of the soil. His wheat was as eagerly sought -after as was Colonel Washington's tobacco. - -It was to Mr. Bordley's counsel that the greater part of my success -was due. He taught me the folly of ploughing with a fluke,--a custom to -which the Eastern Shore was wedded, pointing out that a double surface -was thus exposed to the sun's rays; and explained at length why there -was more profit in small grain in that district than heavy tobacco. He -gave me Dr. Eliot's “Essays on Field Husbandry,” and Mill's “Husby,” - which I read from cover to cover. And I went from time to time to visit -him at Wye Island, when he would canter with me over that magnificent -plantation, and show me with pride the finished outcome of his -experiments. - -Mr. Swain's affairs kept him in town the greater part of the twelve -months, and Mrs. Swain and Patty moved to Annapolis in the autumn. But -for three years I was at Cordon's Pride winter and summer alike. At -the end of that time I was fortunate enough to show my employer such -substantial results as to earn his commendation--ay, and his confidence, -which was the highest token of that man's esteem. The moneys of the -estate he left entirely at my order. And in the spring of '73, when the -opportunity was suddenly offered to buy a thousand acres of excellent -wheat land adjoining, I made the purchase for him while he was at -Williamsburg, and upon my own responsibility. - -This connected the plantation on the east with Singleton's. It had been -my secret hope that the two estates might one day be joined in marriage. -For of all those who came a-courting Patty, Percy was by far the best. -He was but a diffident suitor; he would sit with me on the lawn evening -after evening, when company was there, while Fotheringay and Francis -Willard made their compliments within,--silly flatteries, at which Patty -laughed. - -Percy kept his hounds, and many a run we had together' in the sparkling -days that followed the busy summer, when the crops were safe in the -bottoms; or a quiet pipe and bottle in his bachelor's hall, after a -soaking on the duck points. - -And this brings me to a subject on which I am loth to write. Where Mr. -Singleton was concerned, Patty, the kindest of creatures, was cruelty -itself. Once, when I had the effrontery to venture a word in his behalf, -I had been silenced so effectively as to make my ears tingle. A thousand -little signs led me to a conclusion which pained me more than I can -express. Heaven is my witness that no baser feeling leads me to hint of -it here. Every day while the garden lasted flowers were in my room, and -it was Banks who told me that she would allow no other hands than her -own to place them by my bed. He got a round rating from me for violating -the pledge of secrecy he had given her. It was Patty who made my shirts, -and on Christmas knitted me something of comfort; who stood on the -horse-block in the early morning waving after me as I rode away, and at -my coming her eyes would kindle with a light not to be mistaken. - -None of these things were lost upon Percy Singleton, and I often -wondered why he did not hate me. He was of the kind that never shows a -hurt. Force of habit still sent him to Gordon's Pride, but for days he -would have nothing to say to the mistress of it, or she to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. VISITORS - -It was not often that Mr. Thomas Swain honoured Gordon's Pride with his -presence. He vowed that the sober Whig company his father brought there -gave him the vapours. He snapped his fingers at the articles of the -Patriots' Association, and still had his cocked hats and his Brussels -lace and his spyglass, and his top boots when he rode abroad, like any -other Tory buck. His intimates were all of the King's side,--of the -worst of the King's side, I should say, for I would not be thought to -cast any slur on the great number of conscientious men of that party. -But, being the son of one of the main props of the Whigs, Mr. Tom went -unpunished for his father's sake. He was not uncondemned. - -Up to 1774, the times that Mr. Swain mentioned his son to me might -be counted on the fingers of one hand. It took not a great deal of -shrewdness to guess that he had paid out many a pretty sum to keep Tom's -honour bright: as bright, at least, as such doubtful metal would polish. -Tho' the barrister sought my ear in many matters, I never heard a -whimper out of him on this score. - -Master Tom had no ambition beyond that of being a macaroni; his -easy-going nature led him to avoid alike trouble and responsibility. -Hence he did not bother his head concerning my position. He appeared -well content that I should make money out of the plantation for him to -spend. His visits to Gordon's Pride were generally in the late autumn, -and he brought his own company with him. I recall vividly his third -or fourth appearance, in October of '73. Well I may! The family was -preparing to go to town, and this year I was to follow them, and take -from Mr. Swain's shoulders some of his private business, for he had been -ailing a little of late from overwork. - -The day of which I have spoken a storm had set in, the rain falling in -sheets. I had been in the saddle since breakfast, seeing to an hundred -repairs that had to be made before the cold weather. 'Twas near the -middle of the afternoon when I pulled up before the weaving house. The -looms were still, and Patty met me at the door with a grave look, which -I knew portended something. But her first words were of my comfort. - -“Richard, will you ever learn sense? You have been wet all day long, and -have missed your dinner. Go at once and change your clothes, sir!” she -commanded severely. - -“I have first to look at the warehouse, where the roof is leaking,” I -expostulated. - -“You shall do no such thing,” replied she, “but dry yourself, and march -into the dining room. We have had the ducks you shot yesterday, and some -of your experimental hominy; but they are all gone.” - -I knew well she had laid aside for me some dainty, as was her habit. -I dismounted. She gave me a quick, troubled glance, and said in a low -voice: - -“Tom is come. And oh, I dare not tell you whom he has with him now!” - -“Courtenay?” I asked. - -“Yes, of coarse. I hate the sight of the man. But your cousin, Philip -Carvel, is here, Richard. Father will be very angry. And they are making -a drinking-tavern of the house.” - -I gave Firefly a slap that sent her trotting stable-ward, and walked -rapidly to the house. I found the three of them drinking in the hall, -the punch spilled over the table, and staining the cards. - -“Gad's life!” cries Tom, “here comes Puritan Richard, in his broad rim. -How goes the crop, Richard? 'Twill have to go well, egad, for I lost an -hundred at the South River Club last week!” - -Next him sat Philip, whom I had not seen since before I was carried off. -He was lately come home from King's College; and very mysteriously, his -father giving out that his health was not all it should be. He had not -gained Grafton's height, but he was broader, and his face had something -in it of his father. He had his mother's under lip and complexion. -Grafton was sallow; Philip was a peculiar pink,--not the ruddy pink of -heartier natures, like my grandfather's, nor yet had he the peach-like -skin of Mr. Dix. Philip's was a darker and more solid colour, and I have -never seen man or woman with it and not mistrusted them. He wore a red -velvet coat embroidered with gold, and as costly ruffles as I had ever -seen in London. But for all this my cousin had a coarse look, and his -polished blue flints of eyes were those of a coarse man. - -He got to his feet as Tom spoke, looking anywhere but at me, and came -forward slowly. He was loyal to no one, was Philip, not even to his -father. When he was got within three paces he halted. - -“How do you, cousin?” says he. - -“A little wet, as you perceive, Philip,” I replied. - -I left him and stood before the fire, my rough wool steaming in the -heat. He sat down again, a little awkwardly; and the situation began to -please me better. - -“How do you?” I asked presently. - -“I have got a devilish cold,” said he. “Faith, I'll warrant the doctor -will be sworn I have been but indifferent company since we left the -Hall. Eh, doctor?” - -Courtenay, with his feet stretched out, bestowed an amiable but languid -wink upon me, as much as to say that I knew what Mr. Philip's company -was at best. When I came out after my dinner, they were still sitting -there, Courtenay yawning, and Tom and Philip wrangling over last night's -play. - -“Come, my man of affairs, join us a hand!” says the doctor to me. “I -have known the time when you would sit from noon until supper.” - -“I had money then,” said I. - -“And you have a little now, or I am cursed badly mistook. Oons! what do -you fear?” he exclaimed, “you that have played with March and Fox?” - -“I fear nothing, doctor,” I answered, smiling. “But a man must have a -sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital.” - -“One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume,” says he, with sarcasm. - -“And if it were, it could scarce be more pat,” I retorted. “'Tis Poor -Richard's maxim.” - -“O lud! O my soul!” cries Tom, with a hiccup and a snigger; “'tis time -you made another grand tour, Courtenay. Here's the second Whig has got -in on you within the week!” - -“Thank God they have not got me down to osnabrig and bumbo yet,” replies -the doctor. Coming over to me by the fire, he tapped my sleeve and added -in a low tone: “Forbearance with such a pair of asses is enough to make -a man shed bitter tears. But a little of it is necessary to keep out of -debt. You and I will play together, against both the lambs, Richard. One -of them is not far from maudlin now.” - -“Thank you, doctor,” I answered politely, “but I have a better way to -make my living.” In three years I had learned a little to control my -temper. - -He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Eh bien, mon bon,” says he, “I dare -swear you know your own game better than do I.” And he cast a look up -the stairs, of which I quite missed the meaning. Indeed, I was wholly -indifferent. The doctor and his like had passed out of my life, and I -believed they were soon to disappear from our Western Hemisphere. The -report I had heard was now confirmed, that his fortune was dissipated, -and that he lived entirely off these young rakes who aspired to be -macaronies. - -“Since your factor is become a damned Lutheran, Tom,” said he, returning -to the table and stripping a pack, “it will have to be picquet. You -promised me we could count on a fourth, or I had never left Inman's.” - -It was Tom, as I had feared, who sat down unsteadily opposite. Philip -lounged and watched them sulkily, snuffing and wheezing and dipping into -the bowl, and cursing the house for a draughty barn. I took a pipe -on the settle to see what would come of it. I was not surprised that -Courtenay lost at first, and that Tom drank the most of the punch. Nor -was it above half an hour before the stakes were raised and the tide -began to turn in the doctor's favour. - -“A plague of you, Courtenay!” cries Mr. Tom, at length, flinging down -the cards. His voice was thick, while the Selwyn of Annapolis was never -soberer in his life. Tom appealed first to Philip for the twenty pounds -he owed him. - -“You know how damned stingy my father is, curse you,” whined my cousin, -in return. “I told you I should not have it till the first of the -month.” - -Tom swore back. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and sank into -that attitude of dejection common to drunkards. Suddenly he pulled -himself up. - -“'Shblood! Here's Richard t' draw from. Lemme have fifty pounds, -Richard.” - -“Not a farthing,” I said, unmoved. - -“You say wha' shall be done with my father's money!” he cried. “I call -tha' damned cool--Gad's life! I do. Eh, Courtenay?” - -Courtenay had the sense not to interfere. - -“I'll have you dishcharged, Gads death! so I will!” he shouted. “No -damned airs wi' me, Mr. Carvel. I'll have you know you're not wha' you -once were, but, only a cursht oversheer.” - -He struggled to his feet, forgot his wrath on the instant, and began to -sing drunkenly the words of a ribald air. I took him by both shoulders -and pushed him back into his chair. - -“Be quiet,” I said sternly; “while your mother and sister are here you -shall not insult them with such a song.” He ceased, astonished. “And as -for you, gentlemen,” I continued, “you should know better than to make a -place of resort out of a gentleman's house.” - -Courtenay's voice broke the silence that followed. - -“Of all the cursed impertinences I ever saw, egad!” he drawled. “Is this -your manor, Mr. Carvel? Or have you a seat in Kent?” - -I would not have it in black and white that I am an advocate of -fighting. But a that moment I was in the mood when it does not matter -much one way or the other. The drunken man carried us past the point. - -“The damned in--intriguing rogue'sh worked himself into my father's -grashes,” he said, counting out his words. “He'sh no more Whig than me. -I know'sh game, Courtenay--he wants t' marry Patty. Thish place'll be -hers.” - -The effect upon me of these words, with all their hideous implication of -gossip and scandal, was for an instant benumbing. The interpretation -of the doctor's innuendo struck me then. I was starting forward, with -a hand open to clap over Tom's mouth, when I saw the laugh die on -Courtenay's face, and him come bowing to his legs. I turned with a -start. - -On the stairs stood Patty herself, pale as marble. - -“Come with me, Tom,” she said. - -He had obeyed her from childhood. This time he tried, and failed -miserably. - -“Beg pardon, Patty,” he stammered, “no offensh meant. Thish factor -thinks h' ownsh Gordon's now. I say, not'll h' marries you. Good fellow, -Richard, but infernal forward. Eh, Courtenay?” - -Philip turned away, while the doctor pretended to examine the silver -punch-ladle. As for me, I could only stare. It was Patty who kept her -head, and made us a stately curtsey. - -“Will you do me the kindness, gentlemen,” said she, “to leave me with my -brother?” - -We walked silently into the parlour, and I closed the door. - -“Slife!” cried Courtenay, “she's a vision. What say you, Philip? And I -might see her in that guise again, egad, I would forgive Tom his five -hundred crowns!” - -“A buxom vision,” agreed my cousin, “but I vow I like 'em so.” He had -forgotten his cold. - -“This conversation is all of a piece with the rest of your conduct,” - said I, hotly. - -The candles were burning brightly in the sconces. The doctor walked to -the glass, took snuff, and burnished his waistcoat before he answered. - -“Sure, a fortune lies under every virtue we assume,” he recited. “But -she is not for you, Richard,” says he, tapping his box. - -“Mr. Carvel, if you please,” I replied. I felt the demon within me. But -I had the sense to realize that a quarrel with Dr. Courtenay, under -the circumstances, would be far from wise. He had no intention of -quarrelling, however. He made me a grand bow. - -“Mr. Carvel, your very obedient. Hereafter I shall know better than to -forget myself with an overseer.” And he gave me his back. “What say you -to a game of billiards, Philip?” - -Philip seemed glad to escape. And soon I heard their voices, mingling -with the click of the balls. There followed for me one of the bitterest -half hours I have had in my life. Then Patty opened the hall door. - -“Will you come in for a moment, Richard?” she said, quite calmly. - -I followed her, wondering at the masterful spirit she had shown. For -there was Tom all askew in his chair, his feet one way and his hands -another, totally subdued. What was most to the point, he made me an -elaborate apology. How she had sobered his mind I know not. His body was -as helpless as the day he was born. - -Long before the guests thought of rising the next morning, Patty came to -me as I was having the mare saddled. The sun was up, and the clouds were -being chased, like miscreants who have played their prank, and were now -running for it. The sharp air brought the red into her cheeks. And for -the first time in her life with me she showed shyness. She glanced up -into my face, and then down at the leaves running on the ground. - -“I hope they will go to-day,” said she, when I was ready to mount. - -I began to tighten the girths, venting my feelings on Firefly until the -animal swung around and made a vicious pass at my arm. - -“Richard!” - -“Yes.” - -“You will not worry over that senseless speech of Tom's?” - -“I see it in a properer light now, Patty,” I replied. “I usually do--in -the morning.” - -She sighed. - -“You are so--high-strung,” she said, “I was afraid you would--” - -“I would--?” - -She did not answer until I had repeated. - -“I was very silly,” she said slowly, her colour mounting even higher,” I -was afraid that you would--leave us.” Stroking the mare's neck, and with -a little halt in her voice, “I do not know what we should do without -you.” - -Indeed, I was beginning to think I would better leave, though where I -should go was more than I could say. With a quick intuition she caught -my hand as I put foot in the stirrup. - -“You will not go away!” she cried. “Say you will not! What would poor -father do? He is not so well as he used to be.” - -The wild appeal in her eyes frightened me. It was beyond resisting. In -great agitation I put my foot to the ground again. - -“Patty, I should be a graceless scamp in truth,” I exclaimed. “I do not -forget that your father gave me a home when mine was taken away, and has -made me one of his family. I shall thank God if I can but lighten some -of his burdens.” - -But they did not depart that day, nor the next; nor, indeed, for a week -after. For Philip's cold brought on a high fever. He stuck to his bed, -and Patty herself made broth and dainties for him, and prescribed him -medicine out of the oak chest whence had come so much comfort. At first -Philip thought he would die, and forswore wine and cards, and some other -things the taste for which he had cultivated, and likewise worse vices -that had come to him by nature. - -I am greatly pleased to write that the stay profited the gallant Dr. -Courtenay nothing. Patty's mature beauty and her manner of carrying off -the episode in the hall had made a deep impression upon the Censor. I -read the man's mind in his eye; here was a match to mend his fortunes, -and do him credit besides. However, his wit and his languishing -glances and double meanings fell on barren ground. No tire-woman on the -plantation was busier than Patty during the first few days of his stay. -After that he grew sulky and vented his spleen on poor Tom, winning more -money from him at billiards and picquet. Since the doctor was too much -the macaroni to ride to hounds and to shoot ducks, time began to hang -exceeding heavy on his hands. - -Patty and I had many a quiet laugh over his predicament. And, to add -zest to the situation, I informed Singleton of what was going forward. -He came over every night for supper, and to my delight the bluff -Englishman was received in a fashion to make the doctor writhe and snort -with mortification. Never in his life had he been so insignificant a -person. And he, whose conversation was so sought after in the gay season -in town, was thrown for companionship upon a scarce-grown boy whose -talk was about as salted, and whose intellect as great, as those of the -cockerouse in our fable. He stood it about a se'nnight, at the end of -which space Philip was put on his horse, will-he-nill-he, and made to -ride northward. - -I sat with my cousin of an evening as he lay in bed. Not, I own, from -any charity on my part, but from other motives which do me no credit. -The first night he confessed his sins, and they edified me not a little. -On the second he was well enough to sit up and swear, and to vow that -Miss Swain was an angel; that he would marry her the very next week and -his father Grafton were not such a stickler for family. - -“Curse him,” says his dutiful and loyal son, “he is so bally stingy with -my stipend that I am in debt to half the province. And I say it myself, -Richard, he has been a blackguard to you, tho' I allow him some little -excuse. You were faring better now, my dear cousin, and you had not -given him every reason to hate you. For I have heard him declare more -than once 'pon my soul, I have--that he would rather you were his friend -than his enemy.” - -My contempt for Philip kept me silent here. I might quarrel with -Grafton, who had sense enough to feel pain at a well deserved thrust. -Philip had not the intelligence to recognize insult from compliment. It -was but natural he should mistake my attitude now. He leaned forward in -his bed. - -“Hark you, Richard,” whispers he, with a glance at the door, “I might -tell you some things and I chose, and--and it were worth my while.” - -“Worth your while?” I repeated vaguely. - -He traced nervously the figures on the counterpane. Next came a rush of -anger to redden his face. - -“By Gad, I will tell you. Swear to Gad I will.” Then, the little -cunning inherited from his father asserting itself, he added, “Look you, -Richard, I am the son of one of the richest men in the colony, and I -get the pittance of a backwoods pastor. I tell you 'tis not to be borne -with. And I am not of as much consideration at the Hall as Brady, the -Irish convict, who has become overseer.” - -I little wondered at this. Philip sank back, and for some moments eyed -me between narrowed lids. He continued presently with shortened breath: - -“I have evidence--I have evidence to get you back a good share of the -estate, which my father will never miss. And I will do it,” he cries, -suddenly bold, “I will do it for three thousand pounds down when you -receive it.” - -This was why he had come with Tom to Talbot! I was so dumfounded that -my speech was quite taken away. Then I got up and began pacing the room. -Was it not fair to fight a scoundrel with his own weapons? Here at last -was the witness Mr. Swain had been seeking so long, come of his own free -will. Then--Heaven help me!--my mind flew on. As time had passed I had -more than once regretted refusing the Kent plantation, which had put -her from whom my thought never wandered within my reach again. Good Mr. -Swain had erred for once. 'Twas foolish, indeed, not to accept a portion -of what was rightfully mine, when no more could be got. And now, if what -Philip said was true (and I doubted it not), here at last was the chance -come again to win her without whom I should never be happy. I glanced at -my cousin. - -“Gad's life!” says he, “it is cheap enough. I might have asked you -double.” - -“So you might, and have been refused,” I cried hotly. For I believe that -speech of his recalled me to my senses. It has ever been an instinct -with me that no real prosperity comes out of double-dealing. And -commerce with such a sneak sickened me. “Go back to your father, -Philip, and threaten him, and he may make you rich. Such as he live by -blackmail. And you may add, and you will, that the day of retribution is -coming for him.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. MULTUM IN PARVO - -I lost no time after getting to Annapolis in confiding to Mr. Swain the -conversation I had had with my cousin Philip. And I noticed, as he sat -listening to my account in the library in Gloucester Street, that the -barrister looked very worn. He had never been a strong man, and -the severe strain he had been under with the patriots' business was -beginning to tell. - -He was very thoughtful when I had finished, and then told me briefly -that I had done well not to take the offer. “Tucker would have made -but short work of such evidence, my lad,” said he, “and I think Master -Philip would have lied himself in and out a dozen times. I cannot think -what witness he would have introduced save Mr. Allen. And there is -scarcely a doubt that your uncle pays him for his silence, for I am told -he is living in Frederick in a manner far above what he gets from the -parish. However, Philip has given us something more to work on. It may -be that he can put hands on the messenger.” - -I rose to go. - -“We shall bring them to earth yet, Richard, and I live,” he added. “And -I have always meant to ask you whether you ever regretted your decision -in taking Gordon's Pride.” - -“And you live, sir!” I exclaimed, not heeding the question. - -He smiled somewhat sadly. - -“Of one thing I am sure, my lad,” he continued, “which is that I have -had no regrets about taking you. Mr. Bordley has just been here, and -tells me you are the ablest young man in the province. You see that more -eyes than mine are upon you. You have proved yourself a man, Richard, -and there are very few macaronies would have done as you did. I am -resolved to add another little mite to your salary.” - -The “little mite” was of such a substantial nature that I protested -strongly against it. I thought of Tom's demands upon him. - -“I could afford to give you double for what you have made off the -place,” he interrupted. “But I do not believe in young men having too -much.” He sighed, and turned to his work. - -I hesitated. “You have spent time and labour upon my case, sir, and have -asked no fee.” - -“I shall speak of the fee when I win it,” he said dryly, “and not -before. How would you like to be clerk this winter to the Committee of -Correspondence?” - -I suppose my pleasure was expressed in my face. - -“Well,” said he, “I have got you the appointment without much -difficulty. There are many ways in which you can be useful to the party -when not helping me with my affairs.” - -This conversation gave me food for reflection during a week. I was -troubled about Mr. Swain, and what he had said as to not living kept -running in my head as I wrote or figured. For I had enough to hold me -busy. - -In the meantime, the clouds fast gathering on both sides of the Atlantic -grew blacker, and blacker still. I saw a great change in Annapolis. Men -of affairs went about with grave faces, while gay and sober alike were -touched by the spell. The Tory gentry, to be sure, rattled about in -their gilded mahogany coaches, in spite of jeers and sour looks. My Aunt -Caroline wore jewelled stomachers to the assemblies,--now become dry and -shrivelled entertainments. She kept her hairdresser, had three men in -livery to her chair, and a little negro in Turk's costume to wait on -her. I often met her in the streets, and took a fierce joy in staring -her, in the eye. And Grafton! By a sort of fate I was continually -running against him. He was a very busy man, was my uncle, and had a -kind of dignified run, which he used between Marlboro' Street and the -Council Chamber in the Stadt House, or the Governor's mansion. He -never did me the honour to glance at me. The Rev. Mr. Allen, too, came -a-visiting from Frederick, where he had grown stout as an alderman upon -the living and its perquisites and Grafton's additional bounty. The -gossips were busy with his doings, for he had his travelling-coach and -servant now. He went to the Tory balls with my aunt. Once I all but -encountered him on the Circle, but he ran into Northeast Street to avoid -me. - -Yes, that was the winter when the wise foresaw the inevitable, and the -first sharp split occurred between men who had been brothers. The old -order of things had plainly passed, and I was truly thankful that my -grandfather had not lived to witness those scenes. The greater part of -our gentry stood firm for America's rights, and they had behind them the -best lawyers in America. After the lawyers came the small planters -and most of the mechanics. The shopkeepers formed the backbone of King -George's adherents; the Tory gentry, the clergy, and those holding -office under the proprietor made the rest. - -And it was all about tea, a word which, since '67, had been steadily -becoming the most vexed in the language. The East India Company had put -forth a complaint. They had Heaven knows how many tons getting stale -in London warehouses, all by reason of our stubbornness, and so it was -enacted that all tea paying the small American tax should have a rebate -of the English duties. That was truly a master-stroke, for Parliament to -give it us cheaper than it could be had at home! To cause his Majesty's -government to lose revenues for the sake of being able to say they had -caught and taxed us at last! The happy result is now history, my dears. -And this is not a history, tho' I wish it were. What occurred at Boston, -at Philadelphia, and Charleston, has since caused Englishmen, as well -as Americans, to feel proud. The chief incident in Annapolis I shall -mention in another chapter. - -When it became known with us that several cargoes were on their way -to the colonies, excitement and indignation gained a pitch not reached -since the Stamp Act. Business came to a standstill, plantations lay -idle, and gentry and farmers flocked to Annapolis, and held meetings and -made resolutions anew. On my way of a morning from Mr. Swain's house -to his chambers in the Circle I would meet as many as a dozen knots of -people. Mr. Claude was one of the few patriots who reaped reward out of -the disturbance, for his inn was crowded. The Assembly met, appointed -committees to correspond with the other colonies, and was prorogued -once and again. Many a night I sat up until the small hours copying -out letters to the committees of Virginia, and Pennsylvania, and -Massachusetts. The gentlemen were wont to dine at the Coffee House, and -I would sit near the foot of the table, taking notes of their plans. -'Twas so I met many men of distinction from the other colonies. Colonel -Washington came once. He was grown a greater man than ever, and I -thought him graver than when I had last seen him. I believe a trait of -this gentleman was never to forget a face. - -“How do you, Richard?” said he. How I reddened when he called me so -before all the committee. “I have heard your story, and it does you vast -credit. And the gentlemen tell me you are earning laurels, sir.” - -That first winter of the tea troubles was cold and wet with us, and the -sun, as if in sympathy with the times, rarely showed his face. Early in -February our apprehensions concerning Mr. Swain's health were realized. -One day, without a word to any one, he went to his bed, where Patty -found him. And I ran all the way to Dr. Leiden's. The doctor looked at -him, felt his pulse and his chest, and said nothing. But he did not rest -that night, nor did Patty or I. - -Thus I came to have to do with the good barrister's private affairs. I -knew that he was a rich man, as riches went in our province, but I had -never tried to guess at his estate. I confess the sums he had paid out -in Tom's behalf frightened me. With the advice of Mr. Bordley and -Mr. Lloyd I managed his money as best I could, but by reason of -the non-importation resolutions there was little chance for good -investments,--no cargoes coming and few going. I saw, indeed, that -buying the Talbot estate had been a fortunate step, since the quantities -of wheat we grew there might be disposed of in America. - -When Dr. Leiden was still coming twice a day to Gloucester Street, Mr. -Tom must needs get into a scrape with one of the ladies of the theatre, -and come to me in the Circle chambers for one hundred pounds. I told -him, in despair, that I had no authority to pay out his father's money. -“And so you have become master, sure enough!” he cried, in a passion. -For he was desperate. “You have worked your way in vastly well, egad, -with your Whig committee meetings and speeches. And now he is on his -back, and you have possession, you choose to cut me off. 'Slife, I know -what will be coming next!” - -I pulled him into Mr. Swain's private room, where we would be free of -the clerks. “Yes, I am master here,” I replied, sadly enough, as he -stood sullenly before me. “I should think you would be ashamed to own -it. When I came to your father I was content to be overseer in Talbot, -and thankful for his bounty. 'Tis no fault of mine, but your disgrace, -that his son is not managing his business, and supporting him in the -rights of his country. I am not very old, Tom. A year older than you, I -believe. But I have seen enough of life to prophesy your end and you do -not reform.” - -“We are turned preacher,” he says, with a sneer. - -“God forbid! But I have been in a sponging-house, and tasted the lowest -dregs. And if this country becomes free, as I think it will some day, -such as you will be driven to England, and die in the Fleet.” - -“Not while my father lives,” retorts he, and throws aside the oiled -silk cape with a London name upon it. The day was rainy. I groaned. My -responsibility lay heavy upon me. And this was not my first scene with -him. He continued doggedly:--“You have no right to deny me what is not -yours. 'Twill be mine one day.” - -“You have no right to accuse me of thoughts that do not occur to men of -honour,” I replied. “I am slower to anger than I once was, but I give -you warning now. Do you know that you will ruin your father in another -year and you continue?” - -He gave me no answer. I reached for the ledger, and turning the pages, -called off to him the sums he had spent. - -“Oh, have done, d--n it!” he cried, when I was not a third through. “Are -you or are you not to give me the money?” - -“And you are to spend it upon an actress?” I should have called her by a -worse name. - -“Actress!” he shouted. “Have you seen her in The Orphan? My soul, she -is a divinity!” Then he shifted suddenly to whining and cringing. “I am -ruined outright, Richard, if I do not get it.” - -Abjectly he confessed the situation, which had in it enough material -for a scandal to set the town wagging for a month. And the weight of it -would fall; as I well knew, upon those who deserved it least. - -“I will lend you the money, or, rather, will pay it for you,” I said, at -last. For I was not so foolish as to put it into his hands. “You shall -have the sum under certain conditions.” - -He agreed to them before they were out of my mouth, and swore in a dozen -ways that he would repay me every farthing. He was heartily tired of the -creature, and, true to his nature, afraid of her. That night when the -play was over I went to her lodging, and after a scene too distressing -to dwell upon, bought her off. - -I sat with Mr. Swain many an hour that spring, with Patty sewing at the -window open to the garden. Often, as we talked, unnoticed by her father -she would drop her work and the tears glisten in her eyes. For the -barrister's voice was not as strong as it once was, and the cold would -not seem to lift from his chest. So this able man, who might have sat -in the seats of Maryland's high reward, was stricken when he was needed -most. - -He was permitted two visitors a day: now 'twas Mr. Carroll and Colonel -Lloyd, again Colonel Tilghman and Captain Clapsaddle, or Mr. Yaca and -Mr. Bordley. The gentlemen took turns, and never was their business so -pressing that they missed their hour. Mr. Swain read all the prints, and -in his easier days would dictate to me his views for the committee, or -a letter signed Brutes for Mr. Green to put in the Gazette. So I became -his mouthpiece at the meetings, and learned to formulate my thoughts and -to speak clearly. - -For fear of confusing this narrative, my dears, I have referred but -little to her who was in my thoughts night and day, and whose locket I -wore, throughout all those years, next my heart. I used to sit out under -the stars at Gordon's Pride, with the river lapping at my feet, and -picture her the shining centre of all the brilliant scenes I had left, -and wonder if she still thought of me. - -Nor have I mentioned that faithful correspondent, and more faithful -friend, Lord Comyn. As soon as ever I had obtained from Captain Daniel -my mother's little inheritance, I sent off the debt I owed his Lordship. -'Twas a year before I got him to receive it; he despatched the money -back once, saying that I had more need of it than he. I smiled at this, -for my Lord was never within his income, and I made no doubt he had -signed a note to cover my indebtedness. - -Every letter Comyn writ me was nine parts Dolly, and the rest of his -sheet usually taken up with Mr. Fox and his calamities: these had fallen -upon him very thick of late. Lord Holland had been forced to pay out a -hundred thousand pounds for Charles, and even this enormous sum did not -entirely free Mr. Fox from the discounters and the hounds. The reason -for this sudden onslaught was the birth of a boy to his brother Stephen, -who was heir to the title. “When they told Charles of it,” Comyn wrote, -“said he, coolly: 'My brother Ste's son is a second Messiah, born for -the destruction of the Jews.'” - -I saw no definite signs, as yet, of the conversion of this prodigy, -which I so earnestly hoped for. He had quarrelled with North, lost his -place on the Admiralty, and presently the King had made him a Lord of -the Treasury, tho' more out of fear than love. Once in a while, when he -saw Comyn at Almack's, he would desire to be remembered to me, and he -always spoke of me with affection. But he could be got to write to no -one, said my Lord, with kind exaggeration; nor will he receive letters, -for fear he may get a dun. - -Alas, I got no message from Dorothy! Nor had she ever mentioned my name -to Comyn. He had not seen her for eight months after I left England, -as she had been taken to the Continent for her health. She came back to -London more ravishing than before, and (I use his Lordship's somewhat -extravagant language) her suffering had stamped upon her face even more -of character and power. She had lost much of her levity, likewise. In -short, my Lord declared, she was more of the queen than ever, and the -mystery which hung over the Vauxhall duel had served only to add to her -fame. - -Dorothy having become cognizant of Mr. Marmaduke's trickery, Chartersea -seemed to have dropped out of the race. He now spent his time very -evenly between Spa and Derresley and Paris. Hence I had so much to -be thankful for,--that with all my blunders, I had saved her from his -Grace. My Lord the Marquis of Wells was now most conspicuous amongst her -suitors. Comyn had nothing particular against this nobleman, saying that -he was a good fellow, with a pretty fortune. And here is a letter, -my dears, in which he figures, that I brought to Cordon's Pride that -spring: - - “10 SOUTH PARADE, BATH, - “March 12, 1774. - - “DEAR RICHARD:--Miss Manners has come to Bath, with a train behind - her longer than that which followed good Queen Anne hither, when she - made this Gehenna the fashion. Her triumphal entry last Wednesday - was announced by such a peal of the abbey bells as must have cracked - the metal (for they have not rung since) and started Beau Nash - a-cursing where he lies under the floor. Next came her serenade by - the band. Mr. Marmaduke swore they would never have done, and - squirmed and grinned like Punch when he thought of the fee, for he - had hoped to get off with a crown, I warrant you. You should have - seen his face when they would accept no fee at all for the beauty! - Some wag has writ a verse about it, which was printed, and has set - the whole pump-room laughing this morning. - - “She was led out by Wells in the Seasons last night. As Spring she - is too bewildering for my pen,--all primrose and white, with the - flowers in her blue-black hair. Had Sir Joshua seen her, he would - never rest content till he should have another portrait. The Duc de - Lauzun, who contrived to get two dances, might give you a - description in a more suitable language than English. And there was - a prodigious deal of jealousy among the fair ones on the benches, - you may be sure, and much jaundiced comment. - - “Some half dozen of us adorers have a mess at the Bear, and have - offered up a prize for the most appropriate toast on the beauty. - This is in competition with Mrs. Miller. Have you not heard of her - among your tobacco-hills? Horry calls her Mrs. 'Calliope' Miller. - At her place near here, Bath Easton Villa, she has set up a Roman - vase bedecked with myrtle, and into this we drop our bouts-rimes. - Mrs. Calliope has a ball every Thursday, when the victors are - crowned. T'other day the theme was 'A Buttered Muffin,' and her - Grace of Northumberland was graciously awarded the prize. In faith, - that theme taxed our wits at the Bear,--how to weave Miss Dolly's - charms into a verse on a buttered muffin. I shall not tire you with - mine. Storer's deserved to win, and we whisper that Mrs. Calliope - ruled it out through spite. 'When Phyllis eats,' so it began, and I - vow 'twas devilish ingenious. - - “We do nothing but play lasquenet and tennis, and go to the - assembly, and follow Miss Dolly into Gill's, the pastry-cook's, - where she goes every morning to take a jelly. The ubiquitous Wells - does not give us much chance. He writes 'vers de societe' with the - rest, is high in Mr. Marmaduke's favour, which alone is enough to - damn his progress. I think she is ill of the sight of him. - - “Albeit she does not mourn herself into a tree, I'll take oath your - Phyllis is true to you, Richard, and would live with you gladly in a - thatched hut and you asked her. Write me more news of yourself. - - “Your ever affectionate - “COMYN - - - “P.S. I have had news of you through Mr. Worthington, of your - colony, who is just arrived here. He tells me that you - have gained a vast reputation for your plantation, and likewise that - you are thought much of by the Whig wiseacres, and that you hold - many seditious offices. He does not call them so. Since your - modesty will not permit you to write me any of these things, I have - been imagining you driving slaves with a rawhide, and seeding - runaway convicts to the mines. Mr. W. is even now paying his - respects to Miss Manners, and I doubt not trumpeting your praises - there, for he seems to like you. So I have asked him to join the - Bear mess. One more unfortunate! - - “P.S. I was near forgetting the news about Charles Fox. He sends - you his love, and tells me to let you know that he has been turned - out of North's house for good and all. He is sure you will be - cursed happy over it, and says that you predicted he would go over - to the Whigs. I can scarce believe that he will. North took a - whole week to screw up His courage, h-s M-j-sty pricking him every - day. And then he wrote this: - - “'Sir, his Majesty has thought proper to order a new Commission of - the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not see your name.' Poor - Charles! He is now without money or place, but as usual appears to - worry least of all of us, and still reads his damned Tasso for - amusement. - “C.” - -Perchance he was to be the Saint Paul of English politics, after all. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. LIBERTY LOSES A FRIEND - -Mr. Bordley's sloop took Mr. Swain to Gordon's Pride in May, and placed -him in the big room overlooking the widening river. There he would lie -all day long, staring through the leaves at the water, or listening to -the sweet music of his daughter's voice as she read from the pompous -prints of the time. Gentlemen continued to come to the plantation, for -the barrister's wisdom was sorely missed at the councils. One day, as -I rode in from the field, I found Colonel Lloyd just arrived from -Philadelphia, sipping sangaree on the lawn and mopping himself with his -handkerchief. His jolly face was troubled. He waved his hand at me. - -“Well, Richard,” says he, “we children are to have our first whipping. -At least one of us. And the rest are resolved to defy our parent.” - -“Boston, Mr. Lloyd?” I asked. - -“Yes, Boston,” he replied; “her port is closed, and we are forbid any -intercourse with her until she comes to her senses. And her citizens -must receive his gracious Majesty's troopers into their houses. And if a -man kill one of them by any chance, he is to go to England to be tried. -And there is more quite as bad.” - -“'Tis bad enough!” I cried, flinging myself down. And Patty gave me a -glass in silence. - -“Ay, but you must hear all,” said he; “our masters are of a mind to -do the thing thoroughly. Canada is given some score of privileges. Her -French Roman Catholics, whom we fought not long since, are thrown a -sop, and those vast territories between the lakes and the Ohio and -Mississippi are given to Quebec as a price for her fidelity. And so, if -the worst comes to worst, George's regiments will have a place to land -against us.” - -Such was the news, and though we were some hundreds of miles from -Massachusetts, we felt their cause as our own. There was no need of -the appeal which came by smoking horses from Philadelphia, for the -indignation of our people was roused to the highest pitch. Now Mr. Swain -had to take to his bed from the excitement. - -This is not a history, my dears, as I have said. And time is growing -short. I shall pass over that dreary summer of '74. It required no very -keen eye to see the breakers ahead, and Mr. Bordley's advice to provide -against seven years of famine did not go unheeded. War was the last -thing we desired. We should have been satisfied with so little, we -colonies! And would have voted the duties ten times over had our rights -been respected. Should any of you doubt this, you have but to read the -“Address to the King” of our Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. -The quarrel was so petty, and so easy of mending, that you of this -generation may wonder why it was allowed to run. I have tried to tell -you that the head of a stubborn, selfish, and wilful monarch blocked the -way to reconciliation. King George the Third is alone to blame for that -hatred of race against race which already hath done so much evil. And -I pray God that a great historian may arise whose pen will reveal the -truth, and reconcile at length those who are, and should be, brothers. - -By October, that most beautiful month of all the year in Maryland, we -were again in Annapolis: One balmy day 'twas a Friday, I believe, and a -gold and blue haze hung over the Severn--Mr. Chase called in Gloucester -Street to give the barrister news of the Congress, which he had lately -left. As he came down the stairs he paused for a word with me in the -library, and remarked sadly upon Mr. Swain's condition. “He looks like a -dying man, Richard,” said he, “and we can ill afford to lose him.” - -Even as we sat talking in subdued tones, the noise of a distant -commotion arose. We had scarce started to our feet, Mr. Chase and I, -when the brass knocker resounded, and Mr. Hammond was let in. His wig -was awry, and his face was flushed. - -“I thought to find you here,” he said to Mr. Chase. “The Anne Arundel -Committee is to meet at once, and we desire to have you with us.” - Perceiving our blank faces, he added: “The 'Peggy Stewart' is in this -morning with over a ton of tea aboard, consigned to the Williams's.” - -The two jumped into a chaise, and I followed afoot, stopped at every -corner by some excited acquaintance; so that I had the whole story, -and more, ere I reached Church Street. The way was blocked before the -committee rooms, and 'twas said that the merchants, Messrs. Williams, -and Captain Jackson of the brig, were within, pleading their cause. - -Presently the news leaked abroad that Mr. Anthony Stewart, the brig's -owner, had himself paid the duty on the detested plant. Some hundreds of -people were elbowing each other in the street, for the most part quiet -and anxious, until Mr. Hammond appeared and whispered to a man at the -door. In all my life before I had never heard the hum of an angry crowd. -The sound had something ominous in it, like the first meanings of a wind -that is to break off great trees at their trunks. Then some one shouted: -“To Hanover Street! To Hanover Street! We'll have him tarred and -feathered before the sun is down!” The voice sounded strangely like -Weld's. They charged at this cry like a herd of mad buffalo, the weaker -ones trampled under foot or thrust against the wall. The windows of Mr. -Aikman's shop were shattered. I ran with the leaders, my stature and -strength standing me in good stead more than once, and as we twisted -into Northwest Street I took a glance at the mob behind me, and great -was my anxiety at not being able to descry one responsible person. - -Mr. Stewart's house stood, and stands to-day, amid trim gardens, in -plain sight of the Severn. Arriving there, the crowd massed in front of -it, some of the boldest pressing in at the gate and spreading over the -circle of lawn enclosed by the driveway. They began to shout hoarsely, -with what voices they had left, for Mr. Stewart to come out, calling him -names not to be spoken, and swearing they would show him how traitors -were to be served. I understood then the terror of numbers, and -shuddered. A chandler, a bold and violent man, whose leather was covered -with grease, already had his foot on the steps, when the frightened -servants slammed the door in his face, and closed the lower windows. In -vain I strained my eyes for some one who might have authority with them. -They began to pick up stones, though none were thrown. - -Suddenly a figure appeared at an upper window,--a thin and wasted woman -dressed in white, with sad, sweet features. It was Mrs. Stewart. Without -flinching she looked down upon the upturned faces; but a mob of that -kind has no pity. Their leaders were the worst class in our province, -being mostly convicts who had served their terms of indenture. They -continued to call sullenly for “the traitor.” Then the house door -opened, and the master himself appeared. He was pale and nervous, and -no wonder; and his voice shook as he strove to make himself heard. His -words were drowned immediately by shouts of “Seize him! Seize the d--d -traitor!” “A pot and a coat of hot tar!” - -Those who were nearest started forward, and I with them. With me 'twas -the decision of an instant. I beat the chandler up the steps, and took -stand in front of the merchant, and I called out to them to fall back. - -To my astonishment they halted. The skirts of the crowd were now come to -the foot of the little porch. I faced them with my hand on Mr. Stewart's -arm, without a thought of what to do next, and expecting violence. There -was a second's hush. Then some one cried out: - -“Three cheers for Richard Carvel!” - -They gave them with a will that dumfounded me. - -“My friends,” said I, when I had got my wits, “this is neither the -justice nor the moderation for which our province is noted. You have -elected your committee of your free wills, and they have claims before -you.” - -“Ay, ay, the committee!” they shouted. “Mr. Carvel is right. Take him to -the Committee!” - -Mr. Stewart raised his hand. - -“My friends,” he began, as I had done, “when you have learned the -truth, you will not be so hasty to blame me for an offence of which I am -innocent. The tea was not for me. The brig was in a leaky and dangerous -state and had fifty souls aboard her. I paid the duty out of humanity--” - -He had come so far, when they stopped him. - -“Oh, a vile Tory!” they shouted. “He is conniving with the Council. -'Twas put up between them.” And they followed this with another volley -of hard names, until I feared that his chance was gone. - -“You would best go before the Committee, Mr. Stewart,” I said. - -“I will go with Mr. Carvel, my friends,” he cried at once. And he -invited me into the house whilst he ordered his coach. I preferred to -remain outside. - -I asked them if they would trust me with Mr. Stewart to Church Street. - -“Yes, yes, Mr. Carvel, we know you,” said several. “He has good cause to -hate Tories,” called another, with a laugh. I knew the voice. - -“For shame, Weld,” I cried. And I saw McNeir, who was a stanch friend of -mine, give him a cuff to send him spinning. - -To my vast satisfaction they melted away, save only a few of the idlest -spirits, who hung about the gate, and cheered as we drove off. Mr. -Stewart was very nervous, and profuse in his gratitude. I replied that -I had acted only as would have any other responsible citizen. On the way -he told me enough of his case to convince me that there was much to -be said on his side, but I thought it the better part of wisdom not to -commit myself. The street in front of the committee rooms was empty, and -I was informed that a town meeting had been called immediately at the -theatre in West Street. And I advised Mr. Stewart to attend. But through -anxiety or anger, or both, he was determined not to go, and drove back -to his house without me. - -I had got as far as St. Anne's, halfway to the theatre, when it suddenly -struck me that Mr. Swain must be waiting for news. With a twinge I -remembered what Mr. Chase had said about the barrister's condition, and -I hurried back to Gloucester Street, much to the surprise of those I met -on their way to the meeting. I was greatly relieved, when I arrived, to -find Patty on the porch. I knew she had never been there were her father -worse. After a word with her and her mother, I went up the stairs. - -It was the hour for the barrister's nap. But he was awake, lying back -on the pillows, with his eyes half closed. He was looking out into the -garden, which was part orchard, now beginning to shrivel and to brown -with the first touch of frosts. - -“That is you, Richard?” he inquired, without moving. “What is going -forward to-day?” - -I toned down the news, so as not to excite him, and left out the -occurrence in Hanover Street. He listened with his accustomed interest, -but when I had done he asked no questions, and lay for a long time -silent. Then he begged me to bring my chair nearer. - -“Richard,--my son,” said he, with an evident effort, “I have never -thanked you for your devotion to me and mine through the best years of -your life. It shall not go unrewarded, my lad.” - -It seemed as if my heart stood still with the presage of what was to -come. - -“May God reward you, sir!” I said. - -“I have wished to speak to you,” he continued, “and I may not have -another chance. I have arranged with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, to take -your cause against your uncle, so that you will lose nothing when I am -gone. And you will see, in my table in the library, that I have left -my property in your hands, with every confidence in your integrity, and -ability to care for my family, even as I should have done.” - -I could not speak at once. A lump rose in my throat, for I had come to -look upon him as a father. His honest dealings, his charity, of which -the world knew nothing, and his plain and unassuming ways had inspired -in me a kind of worship. I answered, as steadily as I might: - -“I believe I am too inexperienced for such a responsibility, Mr. Swain. -Would it not be better that Mr. Bordley or Mr. Lloyd should act?” - -“No, no,” he said; “I am not a man to do things unadvisedly, or to let -affection get the better of my judgment, where others dear to me are -concerned. I know you, Richard Carvel. Scarce an action of yours has -escaped my eye, though I have said nothing. You have been through the -fire, and are of the kind which comes out untouched. You will have Judge -Bordley's advice, and Mr. Carroll's. And they are too busy with the -affairs of the province to be burdened as my executors. But,” he added -a little more strongly, “if what I fear is coming, Mr. Bordley will -take the trust in your absence. If we have war, Richard, you will not be -content to remain at home, nor would I wish it.” - -I did not reply. - -“You will do what I ask?” he said. - -“I would refuse you nothing, Mr. Swain,” I answered. “But I have heavy -misgivings.” - -He sighed. “And now, if it were not for Tom, I might die content,” he -said. - -If it were not for Tom! The full burden of the trust began to dawn upon -me then. Presently I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I -hardly caught the words. - -“In our youth, Richard,” he was saying, “the wrath of the Almighty is -but so many words to most of us. When I was little more than a lad, I -committed a sin of which I tremble now to think. And I was the fool to -imagine, when I amended my life, that God had forgotten. His punishment -is no heavier than I deserve. But He alone knows what He has made me -suffer.” - -I felt that I had no right to be there. - -“That is why I have paid Tom's debts,” he continued; “I cannot cast -off my son. I have reasoned, implored, and appealed in vain. He is like -Reuben,--his resolutions melt in an hour. And I have pondered day and -night what is to be done for him.” - -“Is he to have his portion?” I asked. Indeed, the thought of the -responsibility of Tom Swain overwhelmed me. - -“Yes, he is to have it,” cried Mr. Swain, with a violence to bring on a -fit of coughing. “Were I to leave it in trust for a time, he would have -it mortgaged within a year. He is to have his portion, but not a penny -additional.” - -He lay for a long time breathing deeply, I watching him. Then, as he -reached out and took my hand, I knew by some instinct what was to -come. I summoned all my self-command to meet his eye. I knew that the -malicious and unthinking gossip of the town had reached him, and that he -had received it in the simple faith of his hopes. - -“One thing more, my lad,” he said, “the dearest wish of all--that you -will marry Patty. She is a good girl, Richard. And I have thought,” he -added with hesitation, “I have thought that she loves you, though her -lips have never opened on that subject.” - -So the blow fell. I turned away, for to save my life the words would not -come. He missed the reason of my silence. - -“I understand and honour your scruples,” he went on. His kindness was -like a knife. - -“No, I have had none, Mr. Swain,” I exclaimed. For I would not be -thought a hypocrite. - -There I stopped. A light step sounded in the hall, and Patty came in -upon us. Her colour at once betrayed her understanding. To my infinite -relief her father dropped my fingers, and asked cheerily if there was -any news from the town meeting. - -On the following Wednesday, with her flag flying and her sails set, the -Peggy Stewart was run ashore on Windmill Point. She rose, a sacrifice to -Liberty, in smoke to heaven, before the assembled patriots of our city. - -That very night a dear friend to Liberty passed away. He failed so -suddenly that Patty had no time to call for aid, and when the mother -had been carried in, his spirit was flown. We laid him high on the hill -above the creek, in the new lot he had bought and fenced around. The -stone remains: - - HERE LIETH - - HENRY SWAIN, BARRISTER. - BORN MAY 13, 1730 (O.S.); - DIED OCTOBER 19, 1774. - Fidus Amicis atque Patrice. - -The simple inscription, which speaks volumes to those who knew him, was -cut after the Revolution. He was buried with the honours of a statesman, -which he would have been had God spared him to serve the New Country -which was born so soon after his death. - - - - -Volume 8. - - - - -CHAPTER L. FAREWELL TO GORDON'S - -I cannot bear to recall my misery of mind after Mr. Swain's death. One -hope had lightened all the years of my servitude. For, when I examined -my soul, I knew that it was for Dorothy I had laboured. And every letter -that came from Comyn telling me she was still free gave me new heart -for my work. By some mystic communion--I know not what--I felt that she -loved me yet, and despite distance and degree. I would wake of a morning -with the knowledge of it, and be silent for half the day with some -particle of a dream in my head, lingering like the burden of a song with -its train of memories. - -So, in the days that followed, I scarce knew myself. For a while (I -shame to write it) I avoided that sweet woman who had made my comfort -her care, whose father had taken me when I was homeless. The good in me -cried out, but the flesh rebelled. - -Poor Patty! Her grief for her father was pathetic to see. Weeks passed -in which she scarcely spoke a word. And I remember her as she sat in -church Sundays, the whiteness of her face enhanced by the crape she -wore, and a piteous appeal in her gray eyes. My own agony was nigh -beyond endurance, my will swinging like a pendulum from right to wrong, -and back again. Argue as I might that I had made the barrister no -promise, conscience allowed no difference. I was in despair at the trick -fate had played me; at the decree that of all women I must love her -whose sphere was now so far removed from mine. For Patty had character -and beauty, and every gift which goes to make man's happiness and to -kindle his affections. - -Her sorrow left her more womanly than ever. And after the first sharp -sting of it was deadened, I noticed a marked reserve in her intercourse -with me. I knew then that she must have strong suspicions of her -father's request. Speak I could not soon after the sad event, but I -strove hard that she should see no change in my conduct. - -Before Christmas we went to the Eastern Shore. In Annapolis fife and -drum had taken the place of fiddle and clarion; militia companies were -drilling in the empty streets; despatches were arriving daily from the -North; and grave gentlemen were hurrying to meetings. But if the war was -to come, I must settle what was to be done at Gordon's Pride with all -possible speed. It was only a few days after our going there, that I -rode into Oxford with a black cockade in my hat Patty had made me, and -the army sword Captain Jack had given Captain Daniel at my side. For -I had been elected a lieutenant in the Oxford company, of which Percy -Singleton was captain. - -So passed that winter, the darkest of my life. One soft spring day, when -the birds were twittering amid new-born leaves, and the hyacinths and -tulips in Patty's garden were coming to their glory, Master Tom rode -leisurely down the drive at Gordon's Pride. That was a Saturday, the -29th of April, 1775. The news which had flown southward, night and day -alike, was in no hurry to run off his tongue; he had been lolling on the -porch for half an hour before he told us of the bloodshed between the -minute-men of Massachusetts and the British regulars, of the rout of -Percy's panting redcoats from Concord to Boston. Tom added, with the -brutal nonchalance which characterized his dealings with his mother and -sister, that he was on his way to Philadelphia to join a company. - -The poor invalid was carried up the stairs in a faint by Banks and -Romney. Patty, with pale face and lips compressed, ran to fetch the -hartshorn. But Master Tom remained undisturbed. - -“I suppose you are going, Richard,” he remarked affably. For he treated -me with more consideration than his family. “We shall ride together,” - said he. - -“We ride different ways, and to different destinations,” I replied -dryly. “I go to serve my country, and you to fight against it.” - -“I think the King is right,” he answered sullenly. - -“Oh, I beg your pardon,” I remarked, and rose. “Then you have studied -the question since last I saw you.” - -“No, by G-d!” he cried, “and I never will. I do not want to know your -d--d principles--or grievances, or whatever they are. We were living an -easy life, in the plenty of money, and nothing to complain of. You take -it all away, with your cursed cant--” - -I left him railing and swearing. And that was the last I saw of Tom -Swain. When I returned from a final survey of the plantation; and a talk -with Percy Singleton, he had ridden North again. - -I found Patty alone in the parlour. Her work (one of my own stockings -she was darning) lay idle in her lap, and in her eyes were the unshed -tears which are the greatest suffering of women. I sat down beside her -and called her name. She did not seem to hear me. - -“Patty!” - -She started. And my courage ebbed. - -“Are you going to the war--to leave us, Richard?” she faltered. - -“I fear there is no choice, Patty,” I answered, striving hard to keep my -own voice steady. “But you will be well looked after. Ivie Rawlinson is -to be trusted, and Mr. Bordley has promised to keep an eye upon you.” - -She took up the darning mechanically. - -“I shall not speak a word to keep you, Richard. He would have wished -it,” she said softly. “And every strong arm in the colonies will be -needed. We shall think of you, and pray for you daily.” - -I cast about for a cheerful reply. - -“I think when they discover how determined we are, they will revoke -their measures in a hurry. Before you know it, Patty, I shall be back -again making the rounds in my broad rim, and reading to you out of -Captain Cook.” - -It was a pitiful attempt. She shook her head sadly. The tears were come -now, and she was smiling through them. The sorrow of that smile! - -“I have something to say to you before I go, Patty,” I said. The words -stuck. I knew that there must be no pretence in that speech. It must be -true as my life after, the consequence of it. “I have something to -ask you, and I do not speak without your father's consent. Patty, if I -return, will you be my wife?” - -The stocking slipped unheeded to the floor. For a moment she sat -transfixed, save for the tumultuous swelling of her breast. Then she -turned and gazed earnestly into my face, and the honesty of her eyes -smote me. For the first time I could not meet them honestly with my own. - -“Richard, do you love me?” she asked. - -I bowed my head. I could not answer that. And for a while there was no -sound save that of the singing of the frogs in the distant marsh. - -Presently I knew that she was standing at my side. I felt her hand laid -upon my shoulder. - -“Is--is it Dorothy?” she said gently. - -Still I could not answer. Truly, the bitterness of life, as the joy of -it, is distilled in strong drops. - -“I knew,” she continued, “I have known ever since that autumn morning -when I went to you as you saddled--when I dreaded that you would leave -us. Father asked you to marry me, the day you took Mr. Stewart from the -mob. How could you so have misunderstood me, Richard?” - -I looked up in wonder. The sweet cadence in her tone sprang from a -purity not of this earth. They alone who have consecrated their days to -others may utter it. And the light upon her face was of the same source. -It was no will of mine brought me to my feet. But I was not worthy to -touch her. - -“I shall make another prayer, beside that for your safety, Richard,” she -said. - -In the morning she waved me a brave farewell from the block where she -had stood so often as I rode afield, when the dawn was in the sky. -The invalid mother sat in her chair within the door; the servants were -gathered on the lawn, and Ivie Rawlinson and Banks lingered where they -had held my stirrup. That picture is washed with my own tears. - -The earth was praising God that Sunday as I rode to Mr. Bordley's. And -as it is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven, I felt as if I were in -church. - -I arrived at Wye Island in season to dine with the good judge and his -family, and there I made over to his charge the property of Patty and -her mother. The afternoon we spent in sober talk, Mr. Bordley giving me -much sound advice, and writing me several letters of recommendation to -gentlemen in Congress. His conduct was distinguished by even more of -kindness and consideration than he had been wont to show me. - -In the evening I walked out alone, skirting the acres of Carvel Hall, -each familiar landmark touching the quick of some memory of other days. -Childhood habit drew me into the path to Wilmot House. I came upon it -just as the sunlight was stretching level across the Chesapeake, and -burning its windows molten red. I had been sitting long on the stone -steps, when the gaunt figure of McAndrews strode toward me out of the -dusk. - -“God be gude to us, it is Mr. Richard!” he cried. “I hae na seen ye're -bonny face these muckle years, sir, sync ye cam' back frae ae sight o' -the young mistress.” (I had met him in Annapolis then.) “An' will ye be -aff to the wars?” - -I told him yes. That I had come for a last look at the old place before -I left. - -He sighed. “Ye're vera welcome, sir.” Then he added: “Mr. Bordley's -gi'en me a fair notion o' yere management at Gordon's. The judge is -thinking there'll be nane ither lad t' hand a candle to ye.” - -“And what news do you hear from London?” I asked, cutting him short. - -“Ill uncos, sir,” he answered, shaking his head with violence. He had -indeed but a sorry tale for my ear, and one to make my heart heavier -than it was. McAndrews opened his mind to me, and seemed the better for -it. How Mr. Marmaduke was living with the establishment they wrote of -was more than the honest Scotchman could imagine. There was a country -place in Sussex now, said he, that was the latest. And drafts were -coming in before the wheat was in the ear; and the plantations of -tobacco on the Western Shore had been idle since the non-exportation, -and were mortgaged to their limit to Mr. Willard. Money was even loaned -on the Wilmot House estate. McAndrews had a shrewd suspicion that -neither Mrs. Manners nor Miss Dorothy knew aught of this state of -affairs. - -“Mr. Richard,” he said earnestly, as he bade me good-by, “I kennt Mr. -Manners's mind when he lea'd here. There was a laird in't, sir, an' a -fortune. An' unless these come soon, I'm thinking I can spae th' en'.” - -In truth, a much greater fool than McAndrews might have predicted that -end. - -On Monday Judge Bordley accompanied me as far as Dingley's tavern, and -showed much emotion at parting. - -“You need have no fears for your friends at Gordon's Pride, Richard,” - said he. “And when the General comes back, I shall try to give him a -good account of my stewardship.” - -The General! That title brought old Stanwix's cobwebbed prophecy into my -head again. Here, surely, was the war which he had foretold, and I ready -to embark in it. - -Why not the sea, indeed? - - - -CHAPTER LI. HOW AN IDLE PROPHECY CAME TO PASS - -Captain Clapsaddle not being at his lodgings, I rode on to the Coffee -House to put up my horse. I was stopped by Mr. Claude. - -“Why, Mr. Carvel,” says he, “I thought you on the Eastern Shore. There -is a gentleman within will be mightily tickled to see you, or else his -protestations are lies, which they may very well be. His name? Now, 'Pon -my faith, it was Jones--no more.” - -This thing of being called for at the Coffee House stirred up unpleasant -associations. - -“What appearance does the man make?” I demanded. - -“Merciful gad!” mine host exclaimed; “once seen, never forgotten, and -once heard, never forgotten. He quotes me Thomson, and he tells me of -his estate in Virginia.” - -The answer was not of a sort to allay my suspicions. - -“Then he appears to be a landowner?” said I. - -“'Ods! Blest if I know what he is,” says Mr. Claude. “He may be -anything, an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to -strike the eye and hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and -thickset, and some five feet eight inches--full six inches under your -own height. And he comes asking for you as if you owned the town between -you. 'Send a fellow to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good -host!' says he, with a snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news -of you, he is prodigiously affected, and cries--but here's my gentleman -now!” - -I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend -and benefactor, Captain John Paul! - -“Ahoy, ahoy!” cries he. “Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at -last.” - -Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms. - -“Hold, hold, Richard!” he gasped. “My ribs, man! Leave me some breath -that I may tell you how glad I am to see you.” - -“Mr. Jones!” I said, holding him out, “now where the devil got you -that?” - -“Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you,” he answered, smiling. -“My poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must -have three names at the least.” - -I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter. - -“But Jones!” I cried. “'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your -imagination left you, captain?” - -“Republican simplicity, sir,” says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I -laughed the more. - -“Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar,” said I. “A landed -gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit -under that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket.” - -He shook his head, looking up at me with affection. - -“You might have guessed better,” he answered. “All of quality I have -about me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch.” - -This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing -in my ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the -captain's and pulled him toward the Coffee House door. - -“Come,” I said, “you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall -be merry to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the -colonies.” I commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he -took his seat opposite me I marked that he had grown heavier and more -browned. But his eye had the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore. -And first I upbraided him for not having writ me. - -“I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain,” said I; -“and I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you -in Mr. Orchardson's care.” - -“Orchardson died before I had made one voyage,” he replied, “and -the Betsy changed owners. But I did not forget you, Richard, and was -resolved but now not to leave Maryland until I had seen you. But I burn -to hear of you,” he added. “I have had an inkling of your story from the -landlord. So your grandfather is dead, and that blastie, your uncle, of -whom you told me on the John, is in possession.” - -He listened to my narrative keenly, but with many interruptions. And -when I was done, he sighed. - -“You are always finding friends, Richard,” said he; “no matter what -your misfortunes, they are ever double discounted. As for me; I am like -Fulmer in Mr. Cumberland's 'West Indian': 'I have beat through every -quarter of the compass; I have bellowed for freedom; I have offered to -serve my country; I have'--I am engaging to betray it. No, Scotland -is no longer my country, and so I cannot betray her. It is she who has -betrayed me.” - -He fell into a short mood of dejection. And, indeed, I could not but -reflect that much of the character fitted him like a jacket. Not the -betrayal of his country. He never did that, no matter how roundly they -accused him of it afterward. - -To lift him, I cried: - -“You were one of my first friends, Captain Paul” (I could not stomach -the Jones); “but for you I should now be a West Indian, and a miserable -one, the slave of some unmerciful hidalgo. Here's that I may live to -repay you!” - -“And while we are upon toasts,” says he, bracing immediately, “I give -you the immortal Miss Manners! Her beauty has dwelt unfaded in my memory -since I last beheld her, aboard the Betsy.” Remarking the pain in my -face, he added, with a concern which may have been comical: “And she is -not married?” - -“Unless she is lately gone to Gretna, she is not,” I replied, trying to -speak lightly. - -“Alack! I knew it,” he exclaimed. “And if there's any prophecy in my -bones, she'll be Mrs. Carvel one of these days.” - -“Well captain,” I said abruptly, “the wheel has gone around since I saw -you. Now it is you who are the gentleman, while I am a factor. Is it the -bliss you pictured?” - -I suspected that his acres were not as broad, nor his produce as -salable, as those of Mount Vernon. - -“To speak truth, I am heartily tired of that life,” said he. “There is -little glory in raising nicotia, and sipping bumbo, and cursing negroes. -Ho for the sea!” he cried. “The salt sea, and the British prizes. Give -me a tight frigate that leaves a singing wake. Mark me, Richard,” he -said, a restless gleam coning into his dark eyes, “stirring times are -here, and a chance for all of us to make a name.” For so it seemed ever -to be with him. - -“They are black times, I fear,” I answered. - -“Black!” he said. “No, glorious is your word. And we are to have an -upheaval to throw many of us to the top.” - -“I would rather the quarrel were peacefully settled,” said I, gravely. -“For my part, I want no distinction that is to come out of strife and -misery.” - -He regarded me quizzically. - -“You are grown an hundred years old since I pulled you out of the sea,” - says he. “But we shall have to fight for our liberties. Here is a glass -to the prospect!” - -“And so you are now an American?” I said curiously. - -“Ay, strake and keelson,--as good a one as though I had got my sap in -the Maine forests. A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon -modern civilization. And I have here,” he continued, tapping his pocket, -“some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which -Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended. To speak truth, Richard, I -am off to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations. And I was -resolved to stop here even till I secured your company. We shall sweep -the seas together, and so let George beware!” - -I smiled. But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such -a captain. However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army, -let alone a navy. - -“And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack -either for long?” he demanded, his eye flashing. - -“Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John,” I -said. - -“You were born for the sea, Richard,” he exclaimed, raising his glass -high. “And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and -handiness than any merchant's mate I ever sailed with. The more -gentlemen get commissions, the better will be our new service.” - -At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes -to say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me. I -persuaded John Paul to descend with me. We found Captain Daniel seated -with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase. - -“Captain,” I said to my old friend, “I have a rare joy this day in -making known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you -a score of times. He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose -charity took me to London, and who got no other reward for his faith -than three weeks in a debtors' prison. For his honour, as I have told -you, would allow him to accept none, nor his principles to take the -commission in the Royal Navy which Mr. Fox offered him.” - -Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure. “Faith, Mr. -Jones,” he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows, -“this is well met, indeed. I have been longing these many years for a -chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and -gone to express my gratitude.” - -“I have my reward now, captain,” replied John Paul; “a sight of you is -to have Richard's whole life revealed. And what says Mr. Congreve? - - “'For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, - And tho' a late, a sure reward succeeds.' - -“Tho' I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous. And you, -who know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his -companionship.” - -I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him -with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of -their faces. - -“Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs,” I -explained. - -“And do you find it more to your taste than seafaring, Mr. Jones?” - inquired Mr. Chase. - -This brought forth a most vehement protest, and another quotation. - -“Why, sir,” he cried, “to be - - 'Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, - To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,' - -is an animal's existence. I have thrown it over, sir, with a right good -will, and am now on my way to Philadelphia to obtain a commission in the -navy soon to be born.” - -Mr. Chase smiled. John Paul little suspected that he was a member of the -Congress. - -“This is news indeed, Mr. Jones,” he said. “I have yet to hear of the -birth of this infant navy, for which we have not yet begun to make -swaddling clothes.” - -“We are not yet an infant state, sir,” Mr. Carroll put in, with a shade -of rebuke. For Maryland was well content with the government she -had enjoyed, and her best patriots long after shunned the length of -secession. “I believe and pray that the King will come to his senses. -And as for the navy, it is folly. How can we hope to compete with -England on the sea?” - -“All great things must have a beginning sir,” replied John Paul, -launching forth at once, nothing daunted by such cold conservatism. -“What Israelite brickmaker of Pharaoh's dreamed of Solomon's temple? -Nay, Moses himself had no conception of it. And God will send us -our pillars of cloud and of fire. We must be reconciled to our great -destiny, Mr. Carroll. No fight ever was won by man or nation content -with half a victory. We have forests to build an hundred armadas, and I -will command a fleet and it is given me.” - -The gentlemen listened in astonishment. - -“I' faith, I believe you, sir,” cried Captain Daniel, with admiration. - -The others, too, were somehow fallen under the spell of this remarkable -individuality. “What plan would you pursue, sir?” asked Mr. Chase, -betraying more interest than he cared to show. - -“What plan, sir!” said Captain John Paul, those wonderful eyes of his -alight. “In the first place, we Americans build the fastest ships in the -world,--yours of the Chesapeake are as fleet as any. Here, if I am not -mistaken, one hundred and eighty-two were built in the year '71. -They are idle now. To them I would issue letters of marque, to harry -England's trade. From Carolina to Maine we have the wood and iron to -build cruisers, in harbours that may not easily be got at. And skilled -masters and seamen to elude the enemy.” - -“But a navy must be organized, sir. It must be an unit,” objected -Mr. Carroll. “And you would not for many years have force enough, or -discipline enough, to meet England's navy.” - -“I would never meet it, sir,” he replied instantly. “That would be the -height of folly. I would divide our forces into small, swift-sailing -squadrons, of strength sufficient to repel his cruisers. And I would -carry the war straight into his unprotected ports of trade. I can name -a score of such defenceless places, and I know every shoal of their -harbours. For example, Whitehaven might be entered. That is a town of -fifty thousand inhabitants. The fleet of merchantmen might with the -greatest ease be destroyed, a contribution levied, and Ireland's coal -cut off for a winter. The whole of the shipping might be swept out of -the Clyde. Newcastle is another likely place, and in almost any of the -Irish ports valuable vessels may be found. The Baltic and West Indian -fleets are to be intercepted. I have reflected upon these matters for -years, gentlemen. They are perfectly feasible. And I'll warrant you -cannot conceive the havoc and consternation their fulfilment would -spread in England.” - -If the divine power of genius ever made itself felt, 'twas on that May -evening, at candle-light, in the Annapolis Coffee House. With my own -eyes I witnessed two able and cautious statesmen of a cautious province -thrilled to the pitch of enthusiasm by this strange young man of eight -and twenty. As for good Captain Daniel, enthusiasm is but a poor word to -express his feelings. A map was sent for and spread out upon the -table. And it was a late hour when Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll went -home, profoundly impressed. Mr. Chase charged John Paul look him up in -Congress. - -The next morning I bade Captain Daniel a solemn good-by, and rode away -with John Paul to Baltimore. Thence we took stage to New Castle on -the Delaware, and were eventually landed by Mr. Tatlow's stage-boat at -Crooked Billet wharf, Philadelphia. - - A BRIEF SUMMARY, WHICH BRINGS THIS BIOGRAPHY TO THE FAMOUS - FIGHT OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD AND THE SERAPIS - - BY DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL - -Mr. Richard Carvel refers here to the narrative of his experiences in -the War of the Revolution, which he had written in the year 1805 or -1806. The insertion of that account would swell this book, already -too long, out of all proportion. Hence I take it upon myself, with -apologies, to compress it. - -Not until October of that year, 1775, was the infant navy born. Mr. -Carvel was occupied in the interval in the acquirement of practical -seamanship and the theory of maritime warfare under the most competent -of instructors, John Paul Jones. An interesting side light is thrown -upon the character of that hero by the fact that, with all his supreme -confidence in his ability, he applied to Congress only for a first -lieutenancy. This was in deference to the older men before that body. “I -hoped,” said he, “in that rank to gain much useful knowledge from those -of more experience than myself.” His lack of assertion for once cost him -dear. He sailed on the New Providence expedition under Commodore Hopkins -as first lieutenant of the Alfred, thirty; and he soon discovered that, -instead of gaining information, he was obliged to inform others. He -trained the men so thoroughly in the use of the great guns “that they -went through the motions of broadsides and rounds exactly as soldiers -generally perform the manual exercise.” - -Captain Jones was not long in fixing the attention and earning the -gratitude of the nation, and of its Commander-in-Chief, General -Washington. While in command of the Providence, twelve four-pounders, -his successful elusions of the 'Cerberus', which hounded him, and -his escape from the 'Solebay', are too famous to be dwelt upon here. -Obtaining the Alfred, he captured and brought into Boston ten thousand -suits of uniform for Washington's shivering army. Then, by the bungling -of Congress, thirteen officers were promoted over his head. The -bitterness this act engendered in the soul of one whose thirst for -distinction was as great as Captain Jones's may be imagined. To his -everlasting credit be it recorded that he remained true to the country -to which he had dedicated his life and his talents. And it was not until -1781 that he got the justice due him. - -That the rough and bluff captains of the American service should have -regarded a man of Paul Jones's type with suspicion is not surprising. -They resented his polish and accomplishments, and could not understand -his language. Perhaps it was for this reason, as well as a reward for -his brilliant services, that he was always given a separate command. In -the summer of 1777 he was singled out for the highest gift in the power -of the United States, nothing less than that of the magnificent frigate -'Indien', then building at Amsterdam. And he was ordered to France in -command of the 'Ranger', a new ship then fitting at Portsmouth. Captain -Jones was the admiration of all the young officers in the navy, and was -immediately flooded with requests to sail with him. One of his first -acts, after receiving his command, was to apply to the Marine Committee -for Mr. Carvel. The favour was granted. - -My grandfather had earned much commendation from his superiors. He had -sailed two cruises as master's mate of the Cabot, and was then serving -as master of the Trumbull, Captain Saltonstall. This was shortly after -that frigate had captured the two British transports off New York. - -Captain Jones has been at pains to mention in his letters the services -rendered him by Mr. Carvel in fitting out the Ranger. And my grandfather -gives a striking picture of the captain. At that time the privateers, -with the larger inducements of profit they offered, were getting all the -best seamen. John Paul had but to take two turns with a man across the -dock, and he would sign papers. - -Captain Jones was the first to raise the new flag of the stars and -stripes over a man-o'-war. They got away on November 14, 1777, with a -fair crew and a poor lot of officers. Mr. Carvel had many a brush with -the mutinous first lieutenant Simpson. Family influence deterred the -captain from placing this man under arrest, and even Dr. Franklin found -trouble, some years after, in bringing about his dismissal from -the service. To add to the troubles, the Ranger proved crank and -slow-sailing; and she had only one barrel of rum aboard, which made the -men discontented. - -Bringing the official news of Burgoyne's surrender, which was to cause -King Louis to acknowledge the independence of the United States, the -Ranger arrived at Nantes, December 2. Mr. Carvel accompanied Captain -Jones to Paris, where a serious blow awaited him. The American -Commissioners informed him that the Indien had been transferred to -France to prevent her confiscation. That winter John Paul spent -striving in vain for a better ship, and imbibing tactics from the French -admirals. Incidentally, he obtained a salute for the American flag. -The cruise of the Ranger in English waters the following spring was a -striking fulfilment, with an absurdly poor and inadequate force, of the -plan set forth by John Paul Jones in the Annapolis Coffee House. His -descent upon Whitehaven spread terror and consternation broadcast -through England, and he was branded as a pirate and a traitor. Mr. -Carvel was fortunately not of the landing party on St. Mary's Isle, -which place he had last beheld in John Paul's company, on the brigantine -John, when entering Kirkcudbright. The object of that expedition, as is -well known, was to obtain the person of the Earl of Selkirk, in order to -bring about the rescue of the unfortunate Americans suffering in British -prisons. After the celebrated capture of the sloop-of-war Drake, Paul -Jones returned to France a hero. - -If Captain Jones was ambitious of personal glory, he may never, at -least, be accused of mercenary motives. The ragged crew of the Ranger -was paid in part out of his own pocket, and for a whole month he -supported the Drake's officers and men, no provision having been made -for prisoners. He was at large expense in fitting out the Ranger, and he -bought back at twice what it was worth the plate taken from St. Mary's -Isle, getting but a tardy recognition from the Earl of Selkirk for such -a noble and unheard-of action. And, I take pride in writing it, Mr. -Carvel spent much of what he had earned at Gordon's Pride in a like -honourable manner. - -Mr. Carvel's description of the hero's reception at Versailles is -graphic and very humorous. For all his republican principles John Paul -never got over his love of courts, and no man was ever a more thorough -courtier. He exchanged compliments with Queen Marie Antoinette, who was -then in the bloom of her beauty, and declared that she was a “good girl, -and deserved to be happy.” - -The unruly Simpson sailed for America in the Ranger in July, Captain -Jones being retained in France “for a particular enterprise.” And -through the kindness of Dr. Franklin, Mr. Carvel remained with him. Then -followed another period of heartrending disappointment. The fine ship -the French government promised him was not forthcoming, though Captain -Jones wrote a volume of beautiful letters to every one of importance, -from her Royal Highness the Duchess of Chartres to his Most Christian -Majesty, Louis, King of France and Navarre. At length, when he was -sitting one day in unusual dejection and railing at the vanity of courts -and kings, Mr. Carvel approached him with a book in his hand. - -“What have you there, Richard?” the captain demanded. - -“Dr. Franklin's Maxims,” replied my grandfather. They were great -favourites with him. The captain took the book and began mechanically to -turn over the pages. Suddenly he closed it with a bang, jumped up, and -put on his coat and hat. Mr. Carvel looked on in astonishment. - -“Where are you going, sir?” says he. - -“To Paris, sir,” says the captain. “Dr. Franklin has taught me more -wisdom in a second than I had in all my life before. 'If you wish to -have any business faithfully and expeditiously performed, go and do it -yourself; otherwise, send.'” - -As a result of that trip he got the Duras, which he renamed the 'Bon -homme Richard' in honour of Dr. Franklin. The Duras was an ancient -Indiaman with a high poop, which made my grandfather exclaim, when he -saw her, at the remarkable fulfilment of old Stanwix's prophecy. She was -perfectly rotten, and in the constructor's opinion not worth refitting. -Her lowest deck (too low for the purpose) was pierced aft with three -ports on a side, and six worn-out eighteen-pounders mounted there. Some -of them burst in the action, killing their people. The main battery, -on the deck above, was composed of twenty-eight twelve-pounders. On the -uncovered deck eight nine-pounders were mounted. Captain Jones again -showed his desire to serve the cause by taking such a ship, and not -waiting for something better. - -In the meantime the American frigate 'Alliance' had brought Lafayette to -France, and was added to the little squadron that was to sail with the -'Bon homme Richard'. One of the most fatal mistakes Congress ever made -was to put Captain Pierre Landais in command of her, out of compliment -to the French allies. He was a man whose temper and vagaries had -failed to get him a command in his own navy. His insulting conduct and -treachery to Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's -manuscript: they were amply proved by the written statements of other -officers. - -The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision -between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back -into the Groix roads for repairs. Nails and rivets were with difficulty -got to hold in the sides of the old Indianian. On August 14th John Paul -Jones again set sail for English waters, with the following vessels: -Alliance, thirty-six; Pallas, thirty; Cerf, eighteen; Vengeance, twelve; -and two French privateers. Owing to the humiliating conditions imposed -upon him by the French Minister of Marine, Commodore Jones did not have -absolute command. In a gale on the 26th the two privateers and the Cerf -parted company, never to return. After the most outrageous conduct off -the coast of Ireland, Landais, in the 'Alliance', left the squadron -on September 6th, and did not reappear until the 23d, the day of the -battle. - -Mr. Carvel was the third lieutenant of the 'Bon homme Richard', tho' -he served as second in the action. Her first lieutenant (afterwards the -celebrated Commodore Richard Dale) was a magnificent man, one worthy in -every respect of the captain he served. When the hour of battle arrived, -these two and the sailing master, and a number of raw midshipmen, were -the only line-officers left, and two French officers of marines. - -The rest had been lost in various ways. And the crew of the 'Bon homme -Richard' was as sorry a lot as ever trod a deck. Less than three -score of the seamen were American born; near four score were British, -inclusive of sixteen Irish; one hundred and thirty-seven were French -soldiers, who acted as marines; and the rest of the three hundred odd -souls to fight her were from all over the earth,--Malays and Maltese -and Portuguese. In the hold were more than one hundred and fifty English -prisoners. - -This was a vessel and a force, truly, with which to conquer a fifty-gun -ship of the latest type, and with a picked crew. - -Mr. Carvel's chapter opens with Landais's sudden reappearance on the -morning of the day the battle was fought. He shows the resentment and -anger against the Frenchman felt by all on board, from cabin-boy -to commodore. But none went so far as to accuse the captain of the -'Alliance' of such supreme treachery as he was to show during the -action. Cowardice may have been in part responsible for his holding -aloof from the two duels in which the Richard and the Pallas engaged. -But the fact that he poured broadsides into the Richard, and into -her off side, makes it seem probable that his motive was to sink the -commodore's ship, and so get the credit of saving the day, to the -detriment of the hero who won it despite all disasters. To account for -the cry that was raised when first she attacked the Richard, it must be -borne in mind that the crew of the 'Alliance' was largely composed of -Englishmen. It was thought that these had mutinied and taken her. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE “SERAPIS” - -When I came on deck the next morning our yards were a-drip with a clammy -fog, and under it the sea was roughed by a southwest breeze. We were -standing to the northward before it. I remember reflecting as I paused -in the gangway that the day was Thursday, September the 23d, and that we -were near two months out of Groix with this tub of an Indiaman. In -all that time we had not so much as got a whiff of an English frigate, -though we had almost put a belt around the British Isles. Then straining -my eyes through the mist, I made out two white blurs of sails on our -starboard beam. - -Honest Jack Pearce, one of the few good seamen we had aboard, was -rubbing down one of the nines beside me. - -“Why, Jack,” said I, “what have we there? Another prize?” For that -question had become a joke on board the 'Bon homme Richard' since the -prisoners had reached an hundred and fifty, and half our crew was gone -to man the ships. - -“Bless your 'art, no, sir,” said he. “'Tis that damned Frenchy Landais -in th' Alliance. She turns up with the Pallas at six bells o' the middle -watch.” - -“So he's back, is he?” - -“Ay, he's back,” he returned, with a grunt that was half a growl; “arter -three weeks breakin' o' liberty. I tell 'ee what, sir, them Frenchies is -treecherous devils, an' not to be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An' -they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'. -Ez fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the round -house when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin on -us when he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen as -was there that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that the -commodore weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones be -bound up in a hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn't -punish him. Be that so, Mr. Carvel?” - -I said that it was. - -“Shiver my bulkheads!” cried Jack, “I gave my oath to that same, sir. -For I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arm -an' he had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies,” said Jack, -rolling his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, “they sits on their -bottoms in Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's and -mouths, and daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers in -th' Bay o' Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into every -port in England with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o' -Frenchies, Mr. Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twould -give me the greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at that -there Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t' -my mind she couldn't be christened better, sir.” - -I left him patting the gun with a tender affection. - -The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knot -of midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, and -cursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing him -up short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coasting -pilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped for -Garrett or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the first -lieutenant stood talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the French -marines. The scavengers were sweeping down, and part of the after guard -was bending a new bolt-rope on a storm staysail. - -Then the--fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter, -the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go after -a brigantine, “flying like a snow laden with English bricks,” as -Midshipman Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with us -that we crane our necks to windward. - -At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten up -the fog, and the shores of England stood out boldly. Spurn Head was -looming up across our bows, while that of Flamborough jutted into the -sea behind us. I had the starboard watch piped to dinner, and reported -twelve o'clock to the commodore. And had just got permission to “make -it,” according to a time-honoured custom at sea, when another “Sail, -ho!” came down from aloft. - -“Where away?” called back Mr. Linthwaite, who was midshipman of the -forecastle. - -“Starboard quarter, rounding Flamborough Head, sir. Looks like a -full-rigged ship, sir.” - -I sent the messenger into the great cabin to report. He was barely -out of sight before a second cry came from the masthead: “Another sail -rounding Flamborough, sir!” - -The officers on deck hurried to the taffrail. I had my glass, but not -a dot was visible above the sea-line. The messenger was scarcely back -again when there came a third hail: “Two more rounding the head, sir! -Four in all, sir!” - -Here was excitement indeed. Without waiting for instructions, I gave the -command: - -“Up royal yards! Royal yardmen in the tops!” - -We were already swaying out of the chains, when Lieutenant Dale appeared -and asked the coasting pilot what fleet it was. He answered that it was -the Baltic fleet, under convoy of the Countess of Scarborough, twenty -guns, and the Serapis, forty-four. - -“Forty-four,” repeated Mr. Dale, smiling; “that means fifty, as English -frigates are rated. We shall have our hands full this day, my lads,” - said he. “You have done well to get the royals on her, Mr. Carvel.” - -While he was yet speaking, three more sail were reported from aloft. -Then there was a hush on deck, and the commodore himself appeared. As he -reached the poop we saluted him and informed him of what had happened. - -“The Baltic fleet,” said he, promptly. “Call away the pilotboat with Mr. -Lunt to follow the brigantine, sir, and ease off before the wind. Signal -'General Chase' to the squadron, Mr. Mayrant.” - -The men had jumped to the weather braces before I gave the command, and -all the while more sail were counting from the crosstrees, until -their number had reached forty-one. The news spread over the ship; the -starboard watch trooped up with their dinners half eaten. Then a faint -booming of guns drifted down upon our ears. - -“They've got sight of us, sir,” shouted the lookout. “They be firing -guns to windward, an' letting fly their topgallant sheets.” - -At that the commodore hurried forward, the men falling back to the -bulwarks respectfully, and he mounted the fore-rigging as agile as any -topman, followed by his aide with a glass. From the masthead he sung out -to me to set our stu'nsails, and he remained aloft till near seven bells -of the watch. At that hour the merchantmen had all scuttled to safety -behind the head, and from the deck a great yellow King's frigate could -be plainly seen standing south to meet us, followed by her smaller -consort. Presently she hove to, and through our glasses we discerned -a small boat making for her side, and then a man clambering up her -sea-ladder. - -“That be the bailiff of Scarborough, sir,” said the coasting pilot, -“come to tell her cap'n 'tis Paul Jones he has to fight.” - -At that moment the commodore lay down from aloft, and our hearts beat -high as he walked swiftly aft to the quarterdeck, where he paused for -a word with Mr. Dale. Meanwhile Mr. Mayrant hove out the signal for the -squadron to form line of battle. - -“Recall the pilot-boat, Mr. Carvel,” said the commodore, quietly. “Then -you may beat to quarters, and I will take the ship, sir.” - -“Ay, ay, sir.” I raised my trumpet. “All hands clear ship for action!” - -It makes me sigh now to think of the cheer which burst from that -tatterdemalion crew. Who were they to fight the bone and sinew of the -King's navy in a rotten ship of an age gone by? And who was he, that -stood so straight upon the quarter-deck, to instil this scum with love -and worship and fervour to blind them to such odds? But the bo'suns -piped and sang out the command in fog-horn voices, the drums beat the -long roll and the fifes whistled, and the decks became suddenly alive. -Breechings were loosed and gun-tackles unlashed, rammer and sponge laid -out, and pike and pistol and cutlass placed where they would be handy -when the time came to rush the enemy's decks. The powder-monkeys tumbled -over each other in their hurry to provide cartridges, and grape and -canister and doubleheaded shot were hoisted up from below. The trimmers -rigged the splinter nettings, got out spare spars and blocks and ropes -against those that were sure to be shot away, and rolled up casks of -water to put out the fires. Tubs were filled with sand, for blood is -slippery upon the boards. The French marines, their scarlet and white -very natty in contrast to most of our ragged wharf-rats at the guns, -were mustered on poop and forecastle, and some were sent aloft to -the tops to assist the tars there to sweep the British decks with -handgrenade and musket. And, lastly, the surgeon and his mates went -below to cockpit and steerage, to make ready for the grimmest work of -all. - -My own duties took me to the dark lower deck, a vile place indeed, and -reeking with the smell of tar and stale victuals. There I had charge of -the battery of old eighteens, while Mr. Dale commanded the twelves on -the middle deck. We loaded our guns with two shots apiece, though I had -my doubts about their standing such a charge, and then the men stripped -until they stood naked to the waist, waiting for the fight to begin. -For we could see nothing of what was going forward. I was pacing up and -down, for it was a task to quiet the nerves in that dingy place with -the gun-ports closed, when about three bells of the dog, Mr. Mease, the -purser, appeared on the ladder. - -“Lunt has not come back with the pilot-boat, Carvel,” said he. “I have -volunteered for a battery, and am assigned to this. You are to report to -the commodore.” - -I thanked him, and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. The 'Bon homme -Richard' was lumbering like a leaden ship before the wind, swaying -ponderously, her topsails flapping and her heavy blocks whacking against -the yards. And there was the commodore, erect, and with fire in his eye, -giving sharp commands to the men at the wheel. I knew at once that no -trifle had disturbed him. He wore a brand-new uniform; a blue coat with -red lapels and yellow buttons, and slashed cuffs and stand-up collar, a -red waistcoat with tawny lace, blue breeches, white silk stockings, and -a cocked hat and a sword. Into his belt were stuck two brace of pistols. - -It took some effort to realize, as I waited silently for his attention, -that this was the man of whose innermost life I had had so intimate -a view. Who had taken me to the humble cottage under Criffel, who had -poured into my ear his ambitions and his wrongs when we had sat together -in the dingy room of the Castle Yard sponging-house. Then some of those -ludicrous scenes on the road to London came up to me, for which the -sky-blue frock was responsible. And yet this commodore was not greatly -removed from him I had first beheld on the brigantine John. His -confidence in his future had not so much as wavered since that day. That -future was now not so far distant as the horizon, and he was ready to -meet it. - -“You will take charge of the battery of nines on this deck, Mr. Carvel,” - said he, at length. - -“Very good, sir,” I replied, and was making my way down the poop ladder, -when I heard him calling me, in a low voice, by the old name: “Richard!” - -I turned and followed him aft to the taffrail, where we were clear of -the French soldiers. The sun was hanging red over the Yorkshire Wolds, -the Head of Flamborough was in the blue shadow, and the clouds were like -rose leaves in the sky. The enemy had tacked and was standing west, with -ensign and jack and pennant flying, the level light washing his sails -to the whiteness of paper. 'Twas then I first remarked that the Alliance -had left her place in line and was sailing swiftly ahead toward the -Serapis. The commodore seemed to read my exclamation. - -“Landais means to ruin me yet, by hook or crook,” said he. - -“But he can't intend to close with them,” I replied. “He has not the -courage.” - -“God knows what he intends,” said the commodore, bitterly. “It is no -good, at all events.” - -My heart bled for him. Some minutes passed that he did not speak, making -shift to raise his glass now and again, and I knew that he was gripped -by a strong emotion. “'Twas so he ever behaved when the stress was -greatest. Presently he lays down the glass on the signal-chest, fumbles -in his coat, and brings out the little gold brooch I had not set eyes on -since Dolly and he and I had stood together on the Betsy's deck. - -“When you see her, Richard, tell her that I have kept it as sacred as -her memory,” he said thickly. “She will recall what I spoke of you when -she gave it me. You have been leal and true to me indeed, and many a -black hour have you tided me over since this war' began. Do you know how -she may be directed to?” he concluded, with abruptness. - -I glanced at him, surprised at the question. He was staring at the -English shore. - -“Mr. Ripley, of Lincoln's Inn, used to be Mr. Manners's lawyer,” I -answered. - -He took out a little note-book and wrote that down carefully. “And now,” - he continued, “God keep you, my friend. We must win, for we fight with a -rope around our necks.” - -“But you, Captain Paul,” I said, “is--is there no one?” - -His face took on the look of melancholy it had worn so often of late, -despite his triumphs. That look was the stamp of fate. - -“Richard,” replied he, with an ineffable sadness, “I am naught but a -wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no ties, no kindred,--no -real friends, save you and Dale, and some of these honest fellows whom I -lead to slaughter. My ambition is seamed with a flaw. And all my life -I must be striving, striving, until I am laid in the grave. I know that -now, and it is you yourself who have taught me. For I have violently -broken forth from those bounds which God in His wisdom did set.” - -I pressed his hand, and with bowed head went back to my station, -profoundly struck by the truth of what he had spoken. Though he fought -under the flag of freedom, the curse of the expatriated was upon his -head. - -Shortly afterward he appeared at the poop rail, straight and alert, his -eye piercing each man as it fell on him. He was the commodore once more. - -The twilight deepened, until you scarce could see your hands. There was -no sound save the cracking of the cabins and the tumbling of the blocks, -and from time to time a muttered command. An age went by before the -trimmers were sent to the lee braces, and the Richard rounded lazily to. -And a great frigate loomed out of the night beside us, half a pistolshot -away. - -“What ship is that?” came the hail, intense out of the silence. - -“I don't hear you,” replied our commodore, for he had not yet got his -distance. - -Again came the hail: “What ship is that?” - -John Paul Jones leaned forward over the rail. - -“Pass the word below to the first lieutenant to begin the action, sir.” - -Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the deck gave a mighty -leap, a hot wind that seemed half of flame blew across my face, and -the roar started the pain throbbing in my ears. At the same instant the -screech of shot sounded overhead, we heard the sharp crack-crack of -wood rending and splitting,--as with a great broadaxe,--and a medley -of blocks and ropes rattled to the deck with the 'thud of the falling -bodies. Then, instead of stillness, moans and shrieks from above and -below, oaths and prayers in English and French and Portuguese, and in -the heathen gibberish of the East. As the men were sponging and ramming -home in the first fury of hatred, the carpenter jumped out under the -battle-lanthorn at the main hatch, crying in a wild voice that the old -eighteens had burst, killing half their crews and blowing up the gundeck -above them. At this many of our men broke and ran for the hatches. - -“Back, back to your quarters! The first man to desert will be shot -down!” - -It was the same strange voice that had quelled the mutiny on the John, -that had awed the men of Kirkcudbright. The tackles were seized and -the guns run out once more, and fired, and served again in an agony of -haste. In the darkness shot shrieked hither and thither about us like -demons, striking everywhere, sometimes sending casks of salt water over -the nettings. Incessantly the quartermaster walked to and fro scattering -sand over the black pools that kept running, running together as the -minutes were tolled out, and the red flashes from the guns revealed -faces in a hideous contortion. One little fellow, with whom I had had -many a lively word at mess, had his arm taken off at the shoulder as he -went skipping past me with the charge under his coat, and I have but to -listen now to hear the patter of the blood on the boards as they carried -him away to the cockpit below. Out of the main hatch, from that charnel -house, rose one continuous cry. It was an odd trick of the mind or soul -that put a hymn on my lips in that dreadful hour of carnage and human -misery, when men were calling the name of their Maker in vain. But as -I ran from crew to crew, I sang over and over again a long-forgotten -Christmas carol, and with it came a fleeting memory of my mother on the -stairs at Carvel Hall, and of the negroes gathered on the lawn without. - -Suddenly, glancing up at the dim cloud of sails above, I saw that we -were aback and making sternway. We might have tossed a biscuit aboard -the big Serapis as she glided ahead of us. The broadsides thundered, and -great ragged scantlings brake from our bulwarks and flew as high as the -mizzen-top; and the shrieks and groans redoubled. Involuntarily my -eyes sought the poop, and I gave a sigh of relief at the sight of the -commanding figure in the midst of the whirling smoke. We shotted our -guns with double-headed, manned our lee braces, and gathered headway. - -“Stand by to board!” - -The boatswains' whistles trilled through the ship, pikes were seized, -and pistol and cutlass buckled on. But even as we waited with set -teeth, our bows ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For the -Richard's rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. So -we backed and filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard, -himself being aback at the time. Several of his shot crushed through the -bulwarks in front of me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half of -its crew. And it is only a miracle that I stand alive to be able to -tell the tale. Then I caught a glimpse of the quartermaster whirling -the spokes of our wheel, and over went our helm to lay us athwart the -forefoot of the 'Serapis', where we might rake and rush her decks. -Our old Indiaman answered but doggedly; and the huge bowsprit of the -Serapis, towering over our heads, snapped off our spanker gaff and -fouled our mizzen rigging. - -“A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!” I heard the commodore shout, and saw -the sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead and -wounded and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up a -smeared rope's end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we found -the commodore himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with the -severed stays and shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marines -looking on. - -“Don't swear, Mr. Stacey,” said he, severely; “in another minute we may -all be in eternity.” - -I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the stern -of the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries into -play. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadside -into her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunching -together, the disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward to -a leeward tide in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him to -shift his crews or to fling open his starboard gun-ports. - -Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those in -agony lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlight -filtered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon the -boards. A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks. - -“Have you struck, sir?” - -The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls. - -“Sir, I have not yet begun to fight.” - -Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping of -musketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there about -the decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling to -larboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of the -space between the ships. The Englishman had blown off his gun-ports. -And next some one shouted that our battery of twelves was fighting them -muzzle to muzzle below, our rammers leaning into the Serapis to send -their shot home. No chance then for the thoughts which had tortured us -in moments of suspense. That was a fearful hour, when a shot had scarce -to leap a cannon's length to find its commission; when the belches of -the English guns burned the hair of our faces; when Death was sovereign, -merciful or cruel at his pleasure. The red flashes disclosed many an act -of coolness and of heroism. I saw a French lad whip off his coat when a -gunner called for a wad, and another, who had been a scavenger, snatch -the rammer from Pearce's hands when he staggered with a grape-shot -through his chest. Poor Jack Pearce! He did not live to see the work -'Scolding Sairy' was to do that night. I had but dragged him beyond -reach of the recoil when he was gone. - -Then a cry came floating down from aloft. Thrice did I hear it, like -one waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. “The Alliance! The -Alliance!” But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout the -ship, when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aft -forward. “She rakes us! She rakes us!” And the French soldiers tumbled -headlong down from the poop with a wail of “Les Anglais font prise!” - “Her Englishmen have taken her, and turned her guns against us!” Our -captain was left standing alone beside the staff where the stars and -stripes waved black in the moonlight. - -“The Alliance is hauling off, sir!” called the midshipman of the -mizzen-top. “She is making for the Pallas and the Countess of -Scarborough.” - -“Very good, sir,” was all the commodore said. - -To us hearkening for his answer his voice betrayed no sign of dismay. -Seven times, I say, was that battle lost, and seven times regained -again. What was it kept the crews at their quarters and the officers -at their posts through that hell of flame and shot, when a madman could -scarce have hoped for victory? What but the knowledge that somewhere -in the swirl above us was still that unswerving and indomitable man who -swept all obstacles from before him, and into whose mind the thought of -defeat could not enter. His spirit held us to our task, for flesh and -blood might not have endured alone. - -We had now but one of our starboard nine-pounders on its carriage, and -word came from below that our battery of twelves was all but knocked to -scrap iron, and their ports blown into one yawning gap. Indeed, we did -not have to be told that sides and stanchions had been carried away, for -the deck trembled and teetered under us as we dragged 'Scolding Sairy' -from her stand in the larboard waist, clearing a lane for her between -the bodies. Our feet slipped and slipped as we hove, and burning bits of -sails and splinters dropping from aloft fell unheeded on our heads and -shoulders. With the energy of desperation I was bending to the pull, -when the Malay in front of me sank dead across the tackle. But, ere I -could touch him, he was tenderly lifted aside, and a familiar figure -seized the rope where the dead man's hands had warmed it. Truly, the -commodore was everywhere that night. - -“Down to the surgeon with you, Richard!” he cried. “I will look to the -battery.” - -Dazed, I put my hand to my hair to find it warm and wringing wet. When -I had been hit, I knew not. But I shook my head, for the very notion of -that cockpit turned my stomach. The blood was streaming from a gash in -his own temple, to which he gave no heed, and stood encouraging that -panting line until at last the gun was got across and hooked to the -ring-bolts of its companion that lay shattered there. “Serve her -with double-headed, my lads,” he shouted, “and every shot into the -Englishman's mainmast!” - -“Ay, ay, sir,” came the answer from every man of that little remnant. - -The Serapis, too, was now beginning to blaze aloft, and choking -wood-smoke eddied out of the Richard's hold and mingled with the powder -fumes. Then the enemy's fire abreast us seemed to lull, and Mr. Stacey -mounted the bulwarks, and cried out: “You have cleared their decks, my -hearties!” Aloft, a man was seen to clamber from our mainyard into the -very top of the Englishman, where he threw a hand-grenade, as I thought, -down her main hatch. An instant after an explosion came like a, clap of -thunder in our faces, and a great quadrant of light flashed as high as -the 'Serapis's' trucks, and through a breach in her bulwarks I saw men -running with only the collars of their shirts upon their naked bodies. - -'Twas at this critical moment, when that fearful battle once more was -won, another storm of grape brought the spars about our heads, and that -name which we dreaded most of all was spread again. As we halted in -consternation, a dozen round shot ripped through our unengaged side, -and a babel of voices hailed the treacherous Landais with oaths and -imprecations. We made out the Alliance with a full head of canvas, black -and sharp, between us and the moon. Smoke hung above her rail. Getting -over against the signal fires blazing on Flamborough Head, she wore ship -and stood across our bows, the midshipman on the forecastle singing out -to her, by the commodore's orders, to lay the enemy by the board. There -was no response. - -“Do you hear us?” yelled Mr. Linthwaite. - -“Ay, ay,” came the reply; and with it the smoke broke from her and the -grape and canister swept our forecastle. Then the Alliance sailed away, -leaving brave Mr. Caswell among the many Landais had murdered. - -The ominous clank of the chain pumps beat a sort of prelude to what -happened next. The gunner burst out of the hatch with blood running down -his face, shouting that the Richard was sinking, and yelling for quarter -as he made for the ensign-staff on the poop, for the flag was shot away. -Him the commodore felled with a pistol-butt. At the gunner's heels were -the hundred and fifty prisoners we had taken, released by the master -at arms. They swarmed out of the bowels of the ship like a horde of -Tartars, unkempt and wild and desperate with fear, until I thought that -the added weight on the scarce-supported deck would land us all in the -bilges. Words fail me when I come to describe the frightful panic of -these creatures, frenzied by the instinct of self-preservation. They -surged hither and thither as angry seas driven into a pocket of a -storm-swept coast. They trampled rough-shod over the moaning heaps of -wounded and dying, and crowded the crews at the guns, who were powerless -before their numbers. Some fought like maniacs, and others flung -themselves into the sea. - -Those of us who had clung to hope lost it then. Standing with my back -to the mast, beating them off with a pike, visions of an English -prison-ship, of an English gallows, came before me. I counted the -seconds until the enemy's seamen would be pouring through our ragged -ports. The seventh and last time, and we were beaten, for we had not men -enough left on our two decks to force them down again. Yes,--I shame -to confess it--the heart went clean out of me, and with that the pain -pulsed and leaped in my head like a devil unbound. At a turn of the hand -I should have sunk to the boards, had not a voice risen strong and clear -above that turmoil, compelling every man to halt trembling in his steps. - -“Cast off, cast off! 'The Serapis' is sinking. To the pumps, ye fools, -if you would save your lives!” - -That unerring genius of the gardener's son had struck the only chord! - -They were like sheep before us as we beat them back into the reeking -hatches, and soon the pumps were heard bumping with a renewed and a -desperate vigour. Then, all at once, the towering mainmast of the -enemy cracked and tottered and swung this way and that on its loosened -shrouds. The first intense silence of the battle followed, in the midst -of which came a cry from our top: - -“Their captain is hauling down, sir!” - -The sound which broke from our men could scarce be called a cheer. That -which they felt as they sank exhausted on the blood of their comrades -may not have been elation. My own feeling was of unmixed wonder as I -gazed at a calm profile above me, sharp-cut against the moon. - -I was moved as out of a revery by the sight of Dale swinging across to -the Serapis by the main brace pennant. Calling on some of my boarders, I -scaled our bulwarks and leaped fairly into the middle of the gangway of -the Serapis. - -Such is nearly all of my remembrance of that momentous occasion. I had -caught the one glimpse of our first lieutenant in converse with their -captain and another officer, when a naked seaman came charging at me. He -had raised a pike above his shoulder ere I knew what he was about, and -my senses left me. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. IN WHICH I MAKE SOME DISCOVERIES - -The room had a prodigious sense of change about it. That came over me -with something of a shock, since the moment before I had it settled that -I was in Marlboro' Street. The bare branches swaying in the wind outside -should belong to the trees in Freshwater Lane. But beyond the branches -were houses, the like of which I had no remembrance of in Annapolis. -And then my grandfather should be sitting in that window. Surely, he -was there! He moved! He was coming toward me to say: “Richard, you are -forgiven,” and to brush his eyes with his ruffles. - -Then there was the bed-canopy, the pleatings of which were gone, and it -was turned white instead of the old blue. And the chimney-place! That -was unaccountably smaller, and glowed with a sea-coal fire. And the -mantel was now but a bit of a shelf, and held many things that seemed -scarce at home on the rough and painted wood,--gold filigree; and China -and Japan, and a French clock that ought not to have been just there. -Ah, the teacups! Here at last was something to touch a fibre of my -brain, but a pain came with the effort of memory. So my eyes went -back to my grandfather in the window. His face was now become black as -Scipio's, and he wore a red turban and a striped cotton gown that was -too large for him. And he was sewing. This was monstrous! - -I hurried over to the tea-cups, such a twinge did that discovery give -me. But they troubled me near as much, and the sea-coal fire held -strange images. The fascination in the window was not to be denied, for -it stood in line with the houses and the trees. Suddenly there rose up -before me a gate. Yes, I knew that gate, and the girlish figure leaning -over it. They were in Prince George Street. Behind them was a mass of -golden-rose bushes, and out of these came forth a black face under a -turban, saying, “Yes, mistis, I'se comin'.” - -“Mammy--Mammy Lucy!” - -The figure in the window stirred, and the sewing fell its ample lap. - -“Now Lawd'a mercy!” - -I trembled--with a violence unspeakable. Was this but one more of those -thousand voices, harsh and gentle, rough and tender, to which I had -listened in vain this age past? The black face was hovering over me -now, and in an agony of apprehension I reached up and felt its honest -roughness. Then I could have wept for joy. - -“Mammy Lucy!” - -“Yes, Marse Dick?” - -“Where--where is Miss Dolly?” - -“Now, Marse Dick, doctah done say you not t' talk, suh.” - -“Where is Miss Dolly?” I cried, seizing her arm. - -“Hush, Marse Dick. Miss Dolly'll come terectly, suh. She's lyin' down, -suh.” - -The door creaked, and in my eagerness I tried to lift myself. 'Twas -Aunt Lucy's hand that restrained me, and the next face I saw was that of -Dorothy's mother. But why did it appear so old and sorrow-lined? And why -was the hair now of a whiteness with the lace of the cap? She took my -fingers in her own, and asked me anxiously if I felt any pain. - -“Where am I, Mrs. Manners?” - -“You are in London, Richard.” - -“In Arlington Street?” - -She shook her head sadly. “No, my dear, not in Arlington Street. But you -are not to talk.” - -“And Dorothy? May I not see Dorothy? Aunt Lucy tells me she is here.” - -Mrs. Manners gave the old mammy a glance of reproof, a signal that -alarmed me vastly. - -“Oh, tell me, Mrs. Manners! You will speak the truth. Tell me if she is -gone away?” - -“My dear boy, she is here, and under this very roof. And you shall see -her as soon as Dr. Barry will permit. Which will not be soon,” she added -with a smile, “if you persist in this conduct.” - -The threat had the desired effect. And Mrs. Manners quietly left the -room, and after a while as quietly came back again and sat down by the -fire, whispering to Aunt Lucy. - -Fate, in some inexplicable way, had carried me into the enemy's country -and made me the guest of Mr. Marmaduke Manners. As I lay staring -upward, odd little bits of the past came floating to the top of my mind, -presently to be pieced together. The injuries Mr. Marmaduke had done -me were the first to collect, since I was searching for the cause of -my resentment against him. The incidents arrived haphazard as magic -lanthorn views, but very vivid. His denial of me before Mr. Dix, and his -treachery at Vauxhall, when he had sent me to be murdered. Next I felt -myself clutching the skin over his ribs in Arlington Street, when I had -flung him across the room in his yellow night-gown. That brought me to -the most painful scene of my life, when I had parted with Dorothy at the -top of the stairs. Afterward followed scraps of the years at Gordon's -Pride, and on top of them the talk with McAndrews. Here was the secret I -sought. The crash had come. And they were no longer in Mayfair, but must -have taken a house in some poorer part of London. This thought cast me -down tremendously. - -And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I -fell asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot -House; of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping -through pleasant fields and gardens. - -When I awoke it was broad day once more. A gentleman sat on the edge of -my bed. He had a queer, short face, ruddy as the harvest moon, and he -smiled good-humouredly when I opened my eyes. - -“I bid you good morning, Mr. Carvel, for the first time since I have -made your acquaintance,” said he. “And how do you feel, sir?” - -“I have never felt better in my life,” I replied, which was the whole -truth. - -“Well, vastly well,” says he, laughing, “prodigious well for a young -man who has as many holes in him as have you. Do you hear him, Mrs. -Manners?” - -At that last word, I popped up to look about the room, and the doctor -caught hold of me with ludicrous haste. A pain shot through my body. - -“Avast, avast, my hearty,” cries he. “'Tis a miracle you can speak, -let alone carry your bed and walk for a while yet.” And he turned to -Dorothy's mother, whom I beheld smiling at me. “You will give him the -physic, ma'am, at the hours I have chosen. Egad, I begin to think we -shall come through. - -“But pray remember, ma'am, if he talks, you are to put a wad in his -mouth.” - -“He shall have no opportunity to talk, Dr. Barry,” said Mrs. Manners. - -“Save for a favour I have to ask you, doctor,” I cried. - -“'Od's bodkins! Already, sir? And what may that be?” - -“That you will allow me to see Miss Manners.” - -He shook with laughter, and then winked at me very roguishly. - -“Oh!” says he, “and faith, I should be worse than cruel. First she comes -imploring me to see you, and so prettily that a man of oak could not -refuse her. And now it is you begging to see her. Had your eyes been -opened, sir, you might have had many a glimpse of Miss Dolly these three -weeks past.” - -“What! She has been watching with me?” I asked, in a rapture not to be -expressed. - -“'Od's, but those are secrets. And the medical profession is -close-mouthed, Mr. Carvel. So you want to see her? No,” cries he, “'tis -not needful to swear it on the Evangels. And I let her come in, will you -give me your honour as a gentleman not to speak more than two words to -her?” - -“I promise anything, and you will not deny me looking at her,” said I. - -He shook again, all over. “You rascal! You sad dog, sir! No, sir, faith, -you must shut your eyes. Eh, madam, must he not shut his eyes?” - -“They were playmates, doctor,” answers Mrs. Manners. She was laughing a -little, too. - -“Well, she shall come in. But remember that I shall have my ear to the -keyhole, and you go beyond your promise, out she's whisked. So I caution -you not to spend rashly those two words, sir.” - -And he followed Mrs. Manners out of the room, frowning and shaking his -fist at me in mock fierceness. I would have died for the man. For a -space--a prodigious long space--I lay very still, my heart bumping like -a gun-carriage broke loose, and my eyes riveted on the crack of the -door. Then I caught the sound of a light footstep, the knob turned, and -joy poured into my soul with the sweep of a Fundy tide. - -“Dorothy!” I cried. “Dorothy!” - -She put her finger to her lips. - -“There, sir,” said she, “now you have spoken them both at once!” - -She closed the door softly behind her, and stood looking down upon me -with such a wondrous love-light in her eyes as no man may describe. -My fancy had not lifted me within its compass, my dreams even had not -imagined it. And the fire from which it sprang does not burn in humbler -souls. So she stood gazing, those lips which once had been the seat of -pride now parted in a smile of infinite tenderness. But her head she -still held high, and her body straight. Down the front of her dress -fell a tucked apron of the whitest linen, and in her hand was a cup of -steaming broth. - -“You are to take this, Richard,” she commanded. And added, with a touch -of her old mischief, “Mind, sir, if I hear a sound out of you, I am to -disappear like the fairy godmother.” - -I knew full well she meant it, and the terror of losing her kept me -silent. She put down the cup, placed another pillow behind my head with -a marvellous deftness, and then began feeding me in dainty spoonfuls -something which was surely nectar. And mine eyes, too, had their feast. -Never before had I seen my lady in this gentle guise, this task of -nursing the sick, which her doing raised to a queenly art. - -Her face had changed some. Years of trial unknown to me had left an -ennobling mark upon her features, increasing their power an hundred -fold. And the levity of girlish years was gone. How I burned to question -her! But her lips were now tight closed, her glance now and anon seeking -mine, and then falling with an exquisite droop to the coverlet. For the -old archness, at least, would never be eradicated. Presently, after she -had taken the cup and smoothed my pillow, I reached out for her hand. It -was a boldness of which I had not believed myself capable; but she did -not resist, and even, as I thought, pressed my fingers with her own -slender ones, the red of our Maryland holly blushing in her cheeks. And -what need of words, indeed! Our thoughts, too, flew coursing hand in -hand through primrose paths, and the angels themselves were not to be -envied. - -A master might picture my happiness, waking and sleeping, through the -short winter days that came and went like flashes of gray light. The -memory of them is that of a figure tall and lithe, a little more rounded -than of yore, and a chiselled face softened by a power that is one -of the world's mysteries. Dorothy had looked the lady in rags, and -housewife's cap and apron became her as well as silks or brocades. -When for any reason she was absent from my side, I moped, to the quiet -amusement of Mrs. Manners and the more boisterous delight of Aunt Lucy, -who took her turn sewing in the window. I was near to forgetting the use -of words, until at length, one rare morning when the sun poured in, -the jolly doctor dressed my wounds with more despatch than common, and -vouchsafed that I might talk awhile that day. - -“Oh!” cries he, putting me as ever to confusion, “but I have a guess -whom my gentleman will be wishing to talk with. But I'll warrant, sir, -you have said a deal more than I have any notion of without opening your -lips.” - -And he went away, intolerably pleased with his joke. - -Alas for the perversity of maiden natures! It was not my dear nurse who -brought my broth that morning, but Mrs. Manners herself. She smiled at -my fallen face, and took a chair at my bedside. - -“Now, my dear boy,” she said, “you may ask what questions you choose, -and I will tell you very briefly how you have come here.” - -“I have been thinking, Mrs. Manners,” I replied, “that if it were known -that you harboured one of John Paul Jones's officers in London, very -serious trouble might follow for you.” - -I thought her brow clouded a little. - -“No one knows of it, Richard, or is likely to. Dr. Barry, like so many -in England, is a good Whig and friend to America. And you are in a part -of London far removed from Mayfair.” She hesitated, and then continued -in a voice that strove to be lighter: “This little house is in Charlotte -Street, Mary-le-Bone, for the war has made all of us suffer some. And -we are more fortunate than many, for we are very comfortable here, and -though I say it, happier than in Arlington Street. And the best of our -friends are still faithful. Mr. Fox, with all his greatness, has never -deserted us, nor my Lord Comyn. Indeed, we owe them much more than I can -tell you of now,” she said, and sighed. “They are here every day of the -world to inquire for you, and it was his Lordship brought you out of -Holland.” - -And so I had reason once more to bless this stanch friend! - -“Out of Holland?” I cried. - -“Yes. One morning as we sat down to breakfast, Mr. Ripley's clerk -brought in a letter for Dorothy. But I must say first that Mr. Dulany, -who is in London, told us that you were with John Paul Jones. You -can have no conception, Richard, of the fear and hatred that name has -aroused in England. Insurance rates have gone up past belief, and the -King's ships are cruising in every direction after the traitor and -pirate, as they call him. We have prayed daily for your safety, and -Dorothy--well, here is the letter she received. It had been opened -by the inspector, and allowed to pass. And it is to be kept as a -curiosity.” She drew it from the pocket of her apron and began to read. - - “THE TEXEL, October 3, 1779 - - “MY DEAR Miss DOROTHY: I would not be thought to flutter y'r Gentle - Bosom with Needless Alarms, nor do I believe I have misjudged y'r - Warm & Generous Nature when I write you that One who is held very - High in y'r Esteem lies Exceeding Ill at this Place, who might by - Tender Nursing regain his Health. I seize this Opportunity to say, - my dear Lady, that I have ever held my too Brief Acquaintance with - you in London as one of the Sacred Associations of my Life. From - the Little I saw of you then I feel Sure that this Appeal will not - pass in Vain. I remain y'r most Humble and Devoted Admirer, - - “JAMES ORCHARDSON.” - - -“And she knew it was from Commodore Jones?” I asked, in astonishment. - -“My dear,” replied Mrs. Manners, with a quiet smile, “we women have a -keener instinct than men--though I believe your commodore has a woman's -intuition. Yes, Dorothy knew. And I shall never forget the fright she -gave me as she rose from the table and handed me the sheet to read, -crying but the one word. She sent off to Brook Street for Lord Comyn, -who came at once, and, in half an hour the dear fellow was set out for -Dover. He waited for nothing, since war with Holland was looked for -at any day. And his Lordship himself will tell you about that rescue. -Within the week he had brought you to us. Your skull had been trepanned, -you had this great hole in your thigh, and your heart was beating but -slowly. By Mr. Fox's advice we sent for Dr. Barry, who is a skilled -surgeon, and a discreet man despite his manner. And you have been here -for better than three weeks, Richard, hanging between life and death.” - -“And I owe my life to you and to Dorothy,” I said. - -“To Lord Comyn and Dr. Barry, rather,” she replied quickly. “We have -done little but keep the life they saved. And I thank God it was given -me to do it for the son of your mother and father.” - -Something of the debt I owed them was forced upon me. - -They were poor, doubtless driven to make ends meet, and yet they had -taken me in, called upon near the undivided services of an able surgeon, -and worn themselves out with nursing me. Nor did I forget the risk -they ran with such a guest. For the first time in many years my heart -relented toward Mr. Marmaduke. For their sakes I forgave him over and -over what I had suffered, and my treatment of him lay like a weight upon -me. And how was I to repay them? They needed the money I had cost them, -of that I was sure. After the sums I had expended to aid the commodore -with the 'Ranger' and the 'Bon homme Richard', I had scarce a farthing -to my name. With such leaden reflections was I occupied when I heard -Mrs. Manners speaking to me. - -“Richard, I have some news for you which the doctor thinks you can bear -to-day. Mr. Dulany, who is exiled like the rest of us, brought them. It -is a great happiness to be able to tell you, my dear, that you are now -the master of Carvel Hall, and like to stay so.” - -The tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. And the enormity of those -tidings, coming as they did on the top of my dejection, benumbed me. All -they meant was yet far away from my grasp, but the one supreme result -that was first up to me brought me near to fainting in my weakness. - -“I would not raise your hopes unduly, Richard,” the good lady was -saying, “but the best informed here seem to think that England cannot -push the war much farther. If the Colonies win, you are secure in your -title.” - -“But how is it come about, Mrs. Manners?” I demanded, with my first -breath. - -“You doubtless have heard that before the Declaration was signed at -Philadelphia your Uncle Grafton went to the committee at Annapolis and -contributed to the patriot cause, and took very promptly the oath of the -Associated Freemen of Maryland, thus forsaking the loyalist party--” - -“Yes, yes,” I interrupted, “I heard of it when I was on the Cabot. He -thought his property in danger.” - -“Just so,” said Mrs. Manners, laughing; “he became the best and most -exemplary of patriots, even as he had been the best of Tories. He sent -wheat and money to the army, and went about bemoaning that his only son -fought under the English flag. But very little fighting has Philip done, -my dear. Well, when the big British fleet sailed up the bay in '77, -your precious uncle made the first false step in his long career of -rascality. He began to correspond with the British at Philadelphia, and -one of his letters was captured near the Head of Elk. A squad was sent -to the Kent estate, where he had been living, to arrest him, but he made -his escape to New York. And his lands were at once confiscated by the -state.” - -“'Then they belong to the state,” I said, with misgiving. - -“Not so fast, Richard. At the last session of the Maryland Legislature a -bill was introduced, through the influence of Mr. Bordley and others, to -restore them to you, their rightful owner. And insomuch as you were even -then serving the country faithfully and bravely, and had a clean and -honourable record of service, the whole of the lands were given to you. -And now, my dear, you have had excitement enough for one day.” - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. MORE DISCOVERIES - -All that morning I pondered over the devious lane of my life, which had -led up to so fair a garden. And one thing above all kept turning and -turning in my head, until I thought I should die of waiting for its -fulfilment. Now was I free to ask Dorothy to marry me, to promise her -the ease and comfort that had once been hers, should God bring us safe -back to Maryland. The change in her was little less than a marvel to -me, when I remembered the wilful miss who had come to London bent upon -pleasure alone. Truly, she was of that rare metal which refines, and -then outshines all others. And there was much I could not understand. -A miracle had saved her from the Duke of Chartersea, but why she had -refused so many great men and good was beyond my comprehension. Not a -glimpse of her did I get that day, though my eyes wandered little from -the knob of the door. And even from Aunt Lucy no satisfaction was to be -had as to the cause of her absence. - -“'Clare to goodness, Marse Dick,” said she, with great solemnity, -“'clare to goodness, I'se nursed Miss Dolly since she was dat high, and -neber one minnit obher life is I knowed what de Chile gwine t' do de -next. She ain't neber yit done what I calcelated on.” - -The next morning, after the doctor had dressed my wounds and bantered me -to his heart's content, enters Mr. Marmaduke Manners. I was prodigiously -struck by the change in him, and pitied him then near as much as I had -once despised him. He was arrayed in finery, as of old. But the finery -was some thing shabby; the lace was frayed at the edges, there was a -neat but obvious patch in his small-clothes, and two more in his coat. -His air was what distressed me most of all, being that of a man who -spends his days seeking favours and getting none. I had seen too many of -the type not to know the sign of it. - -He ran forward and gave me his hand, which I grasped as heartily as my -weakness would permit. - -“They would not let me see you until to-day, my dear Richard,” he -exclaimed. “I bid you welcome to what is left of our home. 'Tis not -Arlington Street, my lad.” - -“But more of a home than was that grander house, Mr. Manners.” - -He sighed heavily. - -“Alas!” said he, “poverty is a bitter draught, and we have drunk deep of -it since last we beheld you. My great friends know me no more, and will -not take my note for a shilling. They do not remember the dinners and -suppers I gave them. Faith, this war has brought nothing but misery, and -how we are to get through it, God knows!” - -Now I understood it was not the war, but Mr. Marmaduke himself, which -had carried his family to this pass. And some of my old resentment -rekindled. - -“I know that I have brought you great additional anxiety and expense, -Mr. Manners,” I answered somewhat testily. “The care I have been to Mrs. -Manners and Dorothy I may never repay. But it gives me pleasure to feel, -sir, that I am in a position to reimburse you, and likewise to loan you -something until your lands begin to pay again.” - -“There the Carvel speaks,” he cried, “and the true son of our generous -province. You can have no conception of the misfortunes come to me out -of this quarrel. The mortgages on my Western Shore tobacco lands are -foreclosed, and Wilmot House itself is all but gone. You well know, of -course, that I would do the same by you, Richard.” - -I smiled, but more in sadness than amusement. Hardship had only degraded -Mr. Marmaduke the more, and even in trouble his memory was convenient -as is that of most people in prosperity. I was of no mind to jog his -recollection. But I wanted badly to ask about his Grace. Where had my -fine nobleman been at the critical point of his friend's misfortunes? -For I had had many a wakeful night over that same query since my talk -with McAndrews. - -“So you have come to your own again, Richard, my lad,” said Mr. -Marmaduke, breaking in upon my train. “I have felt for you deeply, and -talked many a night with Margaret and Dorothy over the wrong done you. -Between you and me,” he whispered, “that uncle of yours is an arrant -knave, whom the patriots have served with justice. To speak truth, sir, -I begin myself to have a little leaning to that cause which you have so -bravely espoused.” - -This time I was close to laughing outright. But he was far too serious -to remark my mirth. He commenced once more, with an ahem, which gave me -a better inkling than frankness of what bothered him. - -“You will have an agent here, Richard, I take it,” said he. “Your -grandfather had one. Ahem! Doubtless this agent will advance you all -you shall have need of, when you are well enough to see him. Fact is, he -might come here.” - -“You forget, Mr. Manners, that I am a pirate and an outlaw, and that you -are the shielder of such.” - -That thought shook the pinch of Holland he held all over him. But he -recovered. - -“My dear Richard, men of business are of no faction and of no nation. -Their motto is discretion. And to obtain the factorship in London of a -like estate to yours one of them would wear a plaster over his mouth, -I'll warrant you. You have but to summon one of the rascals, promise him -a bit of war interest, and he will leave you as much as you desire, and -nothing spoken.” - -“To talk plainly, Mr. Manners,” I replied, “I think 'twould be the -height of folly to resort to such means. When I am better, we shall see -what can be done.” - -His face plainly showed his disappointment. - -“To be sure,” he said, in a whining tone, “I had forgotten your friends, -Lord Comyn and Mr. Fox. They may do something for you, now you own -your estate. My dear sir, I dislike to say aught against any man. Mrs. -Manners will tell you of their kindness to us, but I vow I have not been -able to see it. With all the money at their command they will not loan -me a penny in my pressing need. And I shame to say it, my own daughter -prevents me from obtaining the money to keep us out of the Fleet. I know -she has spoken to Dulany. Think of it, Richard, my own daughter, upon -whom I lavished all when I had it, who might have made a score of grand -matches when I gave her the opportunity, and now we had all been rolling -in wealth. I'll be sworn I don't comprehend her, nor her mother either, -who abets her. For they prefer to cook Maryland dainties for a living, -to put in the hands of the footmen of the ladies whose houses they once -visited. And how much of that money do you suppose I get, sir? Will you -believe it that I--” (he was shrieking now), “that I, the man of the -family, am allowed only my simple meals, a farthing for snuff, and not a -groat for chaise-hire? At my age I am obliged to walk to and from their -lordships' side entrances in patched clothes, egad, when a new suit -might obtain us a handsome year's income!” - -I turned my face to the wall, completely overcome, and the tears -scalding in my eyes, at the thought of Dorothy and her mother bending -over the stove cooking delicacies for their livelihood, and watching at -my bedside night and day despite their weariness of body. And not a -word out of these noble women of their sacrifice, nor of the shame and -trouble and labour of their lives, who always had been used to every -luxury! Nothing but cheer had they brought to the sickroom, and not a -sign of their poverty and hardship, for they knew that their broths -and biscuit and jellies must have choked me. No. It remained for this -contemptible cur of a husband and father to open my eyes. - -He had risen when I had brought myself to look at him. And as I hope for -heaven he took my emotion for pity of himself. - -“I have worried you enough for one day with my troubles, my lad,” said -he. “But they are very hard to bear, and once in a while it does me good -to speak of them.” - -I did not trust myself to reply. - -It was Aunt Lucy who spent the morning with me, and Mrs. Manners brought -my dinner. I observed a questioning glance as she entered, which I took -for an attempt to read whether Mr. Marmaduke had spoke more than he -ought. But I would have bitten off my tongue rather than tell her of my -discoveries, though perhaps my voice may have betrayed an added concern. -She stayed to talk on the progress of the war, relating the gallant -storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony in July, and the latest Tory -insurrection on our own Eastern Shore. She passed from these matters to -a discussion of General Washington's new policy of the defensive, -for Mrs. Manners had always been at heart a patriot. And whilst I lay -listening with a deep interest, in comes my lady herself. So was it -ever, when you least expected her, even as Mammy had said. She curtseyed -very prettily, with her chin tilted back and her cheeks red, and asked -me how I did. - -“And where have you been these days gone, Miss Will-o'the-Wisp, since -the doctor has given me back my tongue?” I cried. - -“I like you better when you are asleep,” says she. “For then you are -sometimes witty, though I doubt not the wit is other people's.” - -So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night. For I -slept like a trooper after a day's forage. As to what I might have said -in my dreams--that thought made me red as an apple. - -“Dorothy, Dorothy,” says her mother, smiling, “you would provoke a -saint.” - -“Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner,” replies the minx, -with a little face at me. “Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of -an audience from your Excellency.” - -“A gentleman!” - -“Even so. He presents a warrant from your Excellency's physician.” - -With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her. And who should -come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn? He made one rush at me, -and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear's hug. - -“Oh, Richard,” cried he, when he had released me, “I give you my oath -that I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there. -But they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that -now. 'Tis love is curing you, my lad.” - -He held me off at arm's length, the old-time affection beaming from his -handsome face. - -“What am I to say to you, Jack?” I answered. And my voice was all but -gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of -the legion I owed him. “How am I to piece words enough together to thank -you for this supreme act of charity?” - -“'Od's, you may thank your own devilish thick head,” said my Lord Comyn. -“I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her. Had -it not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out -of that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?” - -I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail. - -“And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have -done her?” I said. - -He laughed, and pinched me playfully. - -“Now are you coming to your senses,” said he. “There was cursed little -to the enterprise, Richard, and that's the truth. I got down to Dover, -and persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam. That -was not so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe -enough in the Texel. In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped, -and set off at the devil's pace for the Texel. You must know that the -whole Dutch nation was in an uproar--as much of an uproar as those boors -ever reach--over the arrival of your infamous squadron. The Court Party -and our ambassador were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans -for making you at home. I heard that their High Mightinesses had given -Paul Jones the use of the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners, -and thither I ran. And I was even cursing the French sentry at the -drawbridge in his own tongue, when up comes your commodore himself. -You may quarter me if wasn't knocked off my feet when I recognized the -identical peacock of a sea-captain we had pulled out of Castle Yard -along with you, and offered a commission in the Royal Navy.” - -“Dolly hadn't told you?” - -“Dolly tell me!” exclaimed his Lordship, scornfully. “She was in a state -to tell me nothing the morning I left, save only to bring you to England -alive, and repeat it over and over. But to return to your captain,--he, -too, was taken all aback. But presently he whipt out my name, and I his, -without the Jones. And when I told him my errand, he wept on my neck, -and said he had obtained unlimited leave of absence for you from the -Paris commissioners. He took me up into a private room in the fort, -where you were; and the surgeon, who was there at the time, said that -your chances were as slim as any man's he had ever seen. Faith, you -looked it, my lad. At sight of your face I took one big gulp, for I had -no notion of getting you back to her. And rather than come without you, -and look into her eyes, I would have drowned myself in the Straits of -Dover. - -“Despite the host of troubles he had on his hands, your commodore -himself came with us to Rotterdam. Now I protest I love that man, who -has more humanity in him than most of the virtuous people in England who -call him hard names. If you could have seen him leaning over you, and -speaking to you, and feeling every minute for your heart-beats, egad, -you would have cried. And when I took you off to the schooner, he gave -me an hundred directions how to care for you, and then his sorrow bowled -him all in a heap.” - -“And is the commodore still at the Texel?” I asked, after a space. - -“Ay, that he is, with our English cruisers thick as gulls outside' -waiting for a dead fish. But he has spurned the French commission they -have offered him, saying that of the Congress is good enough for him. -And he declares openly that when he gets ready he will sail out in the -Alliance under the Stars and Stripes. And for this I honour him,” added -he, “and Charles honours him, and so must all Englishmen honour him -when they come to their senses. And by Gads life, I believe he will get -clear, for he is a marvel at seamanship.” - -“I pray with all my heart that he may,” said I, fervently. - -“God help him if they catch him!” my Lord exclaimed. “You should see the -bloody piratical portraits they are scattering over London.” - -“Has the risk you ran getting me into England ever occurred to you, -Jack?” I asked, with some curiosity. - -“Faith, not until the day after we got back, Richard,” says he, “when -I met Mr. Attorney General on the street. 'Sdeath, I turned and ran -the other way like the devil was after me. For Charles Fox vows that -conscience makes cowards of the best of us.” - -“So that is some of Charles's wisdom!” I cried, and laughed until I was -forced to stop from pain. - -“Come, my hearty,” says Jack, “you owe me nothing for fishing you out -of Holland--that is her debt. But I declare that you must one day pay -me for saving her for you. What! have I not always sworn that she loved -you? Did I not pull you into the coffee-room of the Star and Garter -years ago, and tell you that same?” - -My face warmed, though I said nothing. - -“Oh, you sly dog! I'll warrant there has been many a tender talk just -where I'm sitting.” - -“Not one,” said I. - -“'Slife, then, what have you been doing,” he cries, “seeing her every -day and not asking her to marry you, my master of Carvel Hall?” - -“Since I am permitted to use my tongue, she has not come near me, save -when I slept,” I answered ruefully. - -“Nor will she, I'll be sworn,” says he, shaken with laughter. - -“'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her -unawares.” - -I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me. - -“And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard,” he said, in another -tone, “I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how -these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined of -her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her -to take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook -Street without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself -by the sight of her devotion.” - -What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it! - -“When the crash came,” he continued, “'twas she took command, and 'tis -God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed -to the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only -snuff-money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another -debt, and even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she -receive aught from us, but” (he glanced at me uneasily)--“but she and -Mrs. Manners must take to cooking delicacies--” - -“Yes, yes, I know,” I faltered. - -“What! has the puppy told you?” cried he. - -I nodded. “He was in here this morning, with his woes.” - -“And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend, -his Grace of Chartersea?” - -“He tried to sell her again?” I cried, my breath catching. “I have -feared as much since I heard of their misfortunes.” - -“Yes,” replied Comyn, “that was the first of it. 'Twas while they were -still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew. Mr. -Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside the -duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street for -the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then, Charles -having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea the -whole of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And -when the servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts -him. - -“'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she. - -“He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When -she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke, -who was trotting after. - -“'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say -is for his Grace's ear alone.' - -“Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard,” my -Lord concluded, “but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For -in a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he -has never darkened the door since. And the cream of it is,” said Comyn, -“that her father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me -to sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence.” - -“And stranger confidants,” I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of -Courtenay's letter, long ago. - -But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The -picture in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very -words she must have used were ringing in my ears. - -Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty -voice cried out: - -“Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in -this house. 'Slife, I must have at him!” - -“Mr. Fox!” I exclaimed. - -He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me. - -“For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles,” said he. - -I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye -was caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They -were frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with -some new grandeur come upon the man. - -“Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?” I cried. - -He smiled, with his old boyish smile. - -“You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to -Holland House--do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?” - -“Remember it!” I repeated, with emphasis, “I'll warrant I can give you -every bit of our talk.” - -“I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most -damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so -blunt and uncompromising. But you took my fancy--God knows why!--that -first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you -when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have -not forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the -grass. Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!” he said, and -sighed. - -“And yet you were a Junior Lord,” I said. - -“Which is more than I am now,” he answered. “Somehow--you may -laugh--somehow I have never been able to shake off the influence of your -words, Richard. Your cursed earnestness scared me.” - -“Scared you?” I cried, in astonishment. - -“Just that,” said Charles. “Jack will bear witness that I have said -so to Dolly a score of times. For I had never imagined such a single -character as yours. You know we were all of us rakes at fifteen, to -whom everything good in the universe was a joke. And do you recall the -teamster we met by the Park, and how he arrested his salute when he saw -who it was? At another time I should have laughed over that, but it cut -me to have it happen when you were along.” - -“And I'll lay an hundred guineas to a farthing the fellow would put his -head on the block for Charles now,” cut in his Lordship, with his hand -on Mr. Fox's shoulder. “Behold, O Prophet,” he cried, “one who is become -the champion of the People he reviled! Behold the friend of Rebellion -and 'Lese Majeste', the viper in Britannia's bosom!” - -“Oh, have done, Jack,” said Mr. Fox, impatiently, “you have no more -music in your soul than a cow. Damned little virtue attaches to it, -Richard,” he went on. “North threw me out, and the king would have -nothing to do with me, so I had to pick up with you rebels and -traitors.” - -“You will not believe him, Richard,” cried my Lord; “you have only to -look at him to see that he lies. Take note of the ragged uniform of the -rebel army he carries, and then think of him 'en petite maitre', with -his cabriolet and his chestnuts. Egad, he might be as rich as Rigby were -it not for those principles which he chooses to deride. And I have seen -him reduced to a crown for them. I tell you, Richard,” said my Lord, “by -espousing your cause Charles is become greater than the King. For he -has the hearts of the English people, which George has not, and the -allegiance of you Americans, which George will never have. And if you -once heard him, in Parliament, you should hear him now, and see the -Speaker wagging his wig like a man bewitched, and hear friends and -enemies calling out for him to go on whenever he gives the sign of a -pause.” - -This speech of his Lordship's may seem cold in the writing, my dears, -and you who did not know him may wonder at it. It had its birth in an -admiration few men receive, and which in Charles Fox's devoted coterie -was dangerously near to idolatry. During the recital of it Charles -walked to the window, and there stood looking out upon the gray -prospect, seemingly paying but little attention. But when Comyn had -finished, he wheeled on us with a smile. - -“Egad, he will be telling you next that I have renounced the devil and -all his works, Richard,” said he. - -“'Oohs, that I will not,” his Lordship made haste to declare. “For they -were born in him, and will die with him.” - -“And you, Jack,” I asked, “how is it that you are not in arms for the -King, and commanding one of his frigates?” - -“Why, it is Charles's fault,” said my Lord, smiling. “Were it not for -him I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast -towns.” - - - - -CHAPTER LV. “THE LOVE OF A MAID FOR A MAN” - -The next morning, when Dr. Barry had gone, Mrs. Manners propped me up in -bed and left me for a little, so she said. Then who should come in -with my breakfast on a tray but my lady herself, looking so fresh and -beautiful that she startled me vastly. - -“A penny for your thoughts, Richard,” she cried. “Why, you are as grave -as a screech-owl this brave morning.” - -“To speak truth, Dolly,” said I, “I was wondering how the commodore is -to get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait -outside.” - -“Do not worry your head about that,” said she, setting down the tray; -“it will be mere child's play to him. Oh but I should like to see your -commodore again, and tell him how much I love him. - -“I pray that you may have the chance,” I replied. - -With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not -so much as looking at the knot. Then she stepped to the mantel and took -down one of Mr. Wedgwood's cups and dishes, and wiping them with her -apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her -eyes sparkling. - -“Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service,” says -she, with a curtsey. - -I was as a man without a tongue, my hunger gone from sheer -happiness--and fright. And yet eating the breakfast with a relish -because she had made it. She busied herself about the room, dusting here -and tidying there, and anon throwing a glance at me to see if I needed -anything. My eyes followed her hither and thither. When I had finished, -she undid the napkin, and brushed the crumbs from the coverlet. - -“You are not going?” I said, with dismay. - -“Did you wish anything more, sir?” she asked. - -“Oh, Dorothy,” I cried, “it is you I want, and you will not come near -me.” - -For an instant she stood irresolute. Then she put down the tray and came -over beside me. - -“Do you really want me, sir?” - -“Dorothy,” I began, “I must first tell you that I have some guess at -the sacrifice you are making for my sake, and of the trouble and danger -which I bring you.” - -Without more ado she put her hand over my mouth. - -“No,” she said, reddening, “you shall tell me nothing of the sort.” - -I seized her hand, however it struggled, and holding it fast, continued: - -“And I have learned that you have been watching with me by night, and -working by day, when you never should have worked at all. To think that -you should be reduced to that, and I not know it!” - -Her eyes sought mine for a fleeting second. - -“Why, you silly boy, I have made a fortune out of my cookery. And fame, -too, for now am I known from Mary-le-bone to Chelsea, while before my -name was unheard of out of little Mayfair. Indeed, I would not have -missed the experience for a lady-in-waiting-ship. I have learned a deal -since I saw you last, sir. I know that the world, like our Continental -money, must not be taken for the price that is stamped upon it. And as -for the watching with you,” said my lady, “that had to be borne with -as cheerfully as might be. Since I had sent off for you, I was in duty -bound to do my share toward your recovery. I was even going to add -that this watching was a pleasure,--our curate says the sense of duty -performed is sure to be. But you used to cry out the most terrifying -things to frighten me: the pattering of blood and the bumping of bodies -on the decks, and the black rivulets that ran and ran and ran and never -stopped; and strange, rough commands I could not understand; and the -name of your commodore whom you love so much. And often you would repeat -over and over: 'I have not yet begun, to fight, I have not yet begun to -fight!'” - -“Yes, 'twas that he answered when they asked him if he had struck,” I -exclaimed. - -“It must have been an awful scene,” she said, and her shoulders -quivered. “When you were at your worst you would talk of it, and -sometimes of what happened to you in London, of that ride in Hyde Park, -or--or of Vauxhall,” she continued hurriedly. “And when I could bear it -no longer, I would take your hand and call you by name, and often quiet -you thus.” - -“And did I speak of aught else?” I asked eagerly. - -“Oh, yes. When you were caliper, it would be of your childhood, of your -grandfather and your birthdays, of Captain Clapsaddle, and of Patty and -her father.” - -“And never of Dolly, I suppose.” - -She turned away her head. - -“And never of Dolly?” - -“I will tell you what you said once, Richard,” she answered, her voice -dropping very low. “I was sitting by the window there, and the dawn was -coming. And suddenly I heard you cry: 'Patty, when I return will you be -my wife?' I got up and came to your side, and you said it again, twice.” - -The room was very still. And the vision of Patty in the parlour of -Gordon's Pride, knitting my woollen stocking, rose before me. - -“Yes,” I said at length, “I asked her that the day before I left for the -war. God bless her! She has the warmest heart in the world, and the most -generous nature. Do you know what her answer was, Dorothy?” - -“No.” 'Twas only her lips moving that formed the word. She was twisting -absently the tassel of the bed curtain. - -“She asked me if I loved her.” - -My lady glanced up with a start, then looked me searchingly through and -through. - -“And you?” she said, in the same inaudible way. - -“I could answer nothing. 'Twas because of her father's dying wish I -asked her, and she guessed that same. I would not tell her a lie, for -only the one woman lives whom I love, and whom I have loved ever since -we were children together among the strawberries. Need I say that that -woman is you, Dorothy? I loved you before we sailed to Carvel Hall -between my grandfather's knees, and I will love you till death claims -me.” - -Then it seemed as if my heart had stopped beating. But the snowy apron -upon her breast fluttered like a sail stirring in the wind, her head was -high, and her eyes were far away. Even my voice sounded in the distance -as I continued: - -“Will you be the mistress of Carvel Hall, Dorothy? Hallowed is the day -that I can ask it.” - -What of this earth may excel in sweetness the surrender of that proud -and noble nature! And her words, my dears, shall be sacred to you, too, -who are descended from her. She bent forward a little, those deep blue -eyes gazing full into my own with a fondness to make me tremble. - -“Dear Richard,” she said, “I believe I have loved you always. If I have -been wilful and wicked, I have suffered more than you know--even as I -have made you suffer.” - -“And now our suffering is over, Dorothy.” - -“Oh, don't say that, my dear!” she cried, “but let us rather make a -prayer to God.” - -Down she got on her knees close beside me, and I took both of her hands -between my own. But presently I sought for a riband that was around my -neck, and drew out a locket. Within it were pressed those lilies of the -valley I had picked for her long years gone by on my birthday. And she -smiled, though the tears shone like dewdrops on her lashes. - -“When Jack brought you to us for dead, we did not take it off, dear,” - she said gently. “I wept with sorrow and joy at sight of it, for I -remembered you as you were when you picked those flowers, and how -lightly I had thought of leaving you as I wound them into my hair. And -then, when I had gone aboard the 'Annapolis', I knew all at once that -I would have given anything to stay, and I thought my heart would break -when we left the Severn cliffs behind. But that, sir, has been a secret -until this day,” she added, smiling archly through her tears. - -She took out one of the withered flowers, and then as caressingly put it -back beside the others, and closed the locket. - -“I forbade Dr. Barry to take it off, Richard, when you lay so white -and still. I knew then that you had been true to me, despite what I had -heard. And if you were to die--” her voice broke a little as she passed -her hand over my brow, “if you were to die, my single comfort would have -been that you wore it then.” - -“And you heard rumours of me, Dorothy?” - -“George Worthington and others told me how ably you managed Mr. Swain's -affairs, and that you had become of some weight with the thinking men of -the province. Richard, I was proud to think that you had the courage to -laugh at disaster and to become a factor. I believe,” she said shyly, -“twas that put the cooking into my head, and gave me courage. And when I -heard that Patty was to marry you, Heaven is my witness that I tried to -be reconciled and think it for the best. Through my own fault I had lost -you, and I knew well she would make you a better wife than I.” - -“And you would not even let Jack speak for me!” - -“Dear Jack!” she cried; “were it not for Jack we should not be here, -Richard.” - -“Indeed, Dolly, two people could scarce fall deeper in debt to another -than are you and I to my Lord Viscount,” I answered, with feeling. “His -honesty and loyalty to us both saved you for me at the very outset.” - -“Yes,” she replied thoughtfully, “I believed you dead. And I should have -married him, I think. For Dr. Courtenay had sent me that piece from the -Gazette telling of the duel between you over Patty Swain--” - -“Dr. Courtenay sent you that!” I interrupted. - -“I was a wild young creature then, my dear, with little beside vanity -under my cap. And the notion that you could admire and love any girl but -me was beyond endurance. Then his Lordship arrived in England, brimming -with praise of you, to assure me that the affair was not about Patty -at all. This was far from making me satisfied that you were not in -love with her, and I may say now that I was miserable. Then, as we were -setting out for Castle Howard, came the news of your death on the road -to Upper Marlboro. I could not go a step. Poor Jack, he was very honest -when he proposed,” she added, with a sigh. - -“He loved you, Dorothy.” - -She did not hear me, so deep was she in thought. - -“'Twas he who gave me news of you, when I was starving at Gordon's.” - -“And I--I starved, too, Richard,” she answered softly. “Dearest, I slid -very wrong. There are some matters that must be spoken of between us, -whatever the pain they give. And my heart aches now when I think of that -dark day in Arlington Street when I gave you the locket, and you went -out of my life. I knew that I had done wrong then, Richard, as soon as -ever the door closed behind you. I should have gone with you, for better -for worse, for richer for poorer. I should have run after you in the -rain and thrown myself at your feet. And that would have been best for -my father and for me.” - -She covered her face with her hands, and her words were stifled by a -sob. - -“Dorothy, Dorothy!” I cried, drawing her to me. “Another time. Not now, -when we are so happy.” - -“Now, and never again, dear,” she said. “Yes, I saw and heard all that -passed in the drawing-room. And I did not blame, but praised you for -it. I have never spoken a word beyond necessity to my father since. God -forgive me!” she cried, “but I have despised him from that hour. When -I knew that he had plotted to sell me to that detestable brute, working -upon me to save his honour, of which he has not the smallest spark; that -he had recognized and denied you, friendless before our house, and sent -you into the darkness at Vauxhall to be murdered, then he was no father -of mine. I would that you might know what my mother has suffered from -such a man, Richard.” - -“My dear, I have often pitied her from my soul,” I said. - -“And now I shall tell you something of the story of the Duke of -Chartersea,” she went on, and I felt her tremble as she spoke that name. -“I think of all we have Lord Comyn to thank for, next to saving your -life twice, was his telling you of the danger I ran. And, Richard, after -refusing you that day on the balcony over the Park, I had no hope left. -You may thank your own nobility and courage that you remained in London -after that. Richard,” she said, “do you recall my asking you in the -coach, on the way from Castle Yard, for the exact day you met my father -in Arlington Street?” - -“Yes,” I replied, in some excitement, “yes.” For I was at last to come -at the bottom of this affair. - -“The duke had made a formal offer for me when first we came to London. -I think my father wrote of that to Dr. Courtenay.” (I smiled at -the recollection, now.) “Then his Grace persisted in following me -everywhere, and vowed publicly that he would marry me. I ordered him -from our house, since my father would not. At last one afternoon he came -back to dine with us, insolent to excess. I left the table. He sat with -my father two hours or more, drinking and singing, and giving orders to -the servants. I shut my door, that I might not hear. After a while my -mother came up to me, crying, saying that Mr. Manners would be branded -with dishonour and I did not consent to marry his Grace,--a most -terrible dishonour, of which she could not speak. That the duke had -given my father a month to win my consent. And that month was up, -Richard, the very afternoon you appeared with Mr. Dix in Arlington -Street.” - -“And you agreed to marry him, Dolly?” I asked breathlessly. - -“By the grace of Heaven, I did not,” she answered quickly. “The utmost -that I would consent to was a two months' respite, promising to give -my hand to no one in that interval. And so I was forced to refuse you, -Richard. You must have seen even then that I loved you, dear, though -I was so cruel when you spoke of saving me from his Grace. I could not -bear to think that you knew of any stain upon our family. I think--I -think I would rather have died, or have married him. That day I threw -Chartersea's presents out of the window, but my father made the -servants gather them all which escaped breaking, and put them in the -drawing-room. Then I fell ill.” - -She was silent, I clinging to her, and shuddering to think how near I -had been to losing her. - -“It was Jack who came to cheer me,” I said presently. - -“His faith in you was never shaken, sweetheart. But I went to Newmarket -and Ampthill, and behaved like the ingrate I was. I richly deserved the -scolding he had for me when I got back to town, which sent me running -to Arlington Street. There I met Dr. James coming out, who asked me if I -was Mr. Carvel, and told me that you had called my name.” - -“And, you goose, you never suspected,” says she, smiling. - -“How was I to suspect that you loved a provincial booby like me, when -you had the choice of so many accomplished gentlemen with titles and -estates?” - -“How were you to perceive, indeed, that you had qualities which they -lacked?” - -“And you were forever vowing that you would marry a nobleman, my lady. -For you said to me once that I should call you so, and ride in the coach -with the coroneted panels when I came home on a visit.” - -“And I said, too,” retorted Dolly, with mischief in her eyes, “do you -remember what I told you the New Year's eve when we sat out by the -sundial at Carvel Hall, when I was so proud of having fixed Dr. -Courtenay's attentions? I said that I should never marry you, sir, who -was so rough and masterful, and thrashed every lad that did not agree -with you.” - -“Alas, so you did, and a deal more!” I exclaimed. - -With that she broke away from me and, getting to her feet, made me a low -curtsey with the grace that was hers alone. - -“You are my Lord and my King, sir,” she said, “and my rough Patriot -squire, all in one.” - -“Are you happy, Dolly?” I asked, tremulous from my own joy. - -“I have never been happy in all my life before, Richard dear,” she said. - -In truth, she was a being transformed, and more wondrous fair than ever. -And even then I pictured her in the brave gowns and jewels I would buy -her when times were mended, when our dear country would be free. All at -once, ere I could draw a breath, she had stooped and kissed me ever so -lightly on the forehead. - -The door opened upon Aunt Lucy. She had but to look at us, and her black -face beamed at our blushes. My lady threw her arms about her neck, and -hid her face in the ample bosom. - -“Now praise de good Lawd!” cried Mammy; “I knowed it dis longest time. -What's I done tole you, Miss Dolly? What's I done tole you, honey?” - -But my lady flew from the room. Presently I heard the spinet playing -softly, and the words of that air came out of my heart from long ago. - - “Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song. - Love that is too hot and strong - Burneth soon to waste. - Still, I would not have thee cold, - Nor too backward, nor too bold. - Love that lasteth till 'tis old - Fadeth not in haste.” - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. HOW GOOD CAME OUT OF EVIL - -'Twas about candlelight when I awoke, and Dorothy was sitting alone -beside me. Her fingers were resting upon my arm, and she greeted me with -a smile all tenderness. - -“And does my Lord feel better after--after his excitement to-day?” she -asked. - -“Dorothy, you have made me a whole man again. I could walk to Windsor -and back.” - -“You must have your dinner, or your supper first, sir,” she answered -gayly, “and do you rest quiet until I come back to feed you. Oh, Richard -dear,” she cried, “how delightful that you should be the helpless one, -and dependent on me!” - -As I lay listening for the rustle of her gown, the minutes dragged -eternally. Every word and gesture of the morning passed before my mind, -and the touch of her lips still burned on my forehead. At last, when -I was getting fairly restless, the distant tones of a voice, deep and -reverberating, smote upon my ear, jarring painfully some long-forgotten -chord. That voice belonged to but one man alive, and yet I could not -name him. Even as I strained, the tones drew nearer, and they were mixed -with sweeter ones I knew well, and Dorothy's mother's voice. Whilst I -was still searching, the door opened, the voices fell calm, and Dorothy -came in bearing a candle in each hand. As she set them down on the -table, I saw an agitation in her face, which she strove to hide as she -addressed me. - -“Will you see a visitor, Richard?” - -“A visitor!” I repeated, with misgiving. 'Twas not so she had announced -Comyn. - -“Will you see Mr. Allen?”-- - -“Mr. Allen, who was the rector of St. Anne's? Mr. Allen in London, and -here?” - -“Yes.” Her breath seemed to catch at the word. “He says he must see you, -dear, and will not be denied. How he discovered you were with us I know -not.” - -“See him!” I cried. “And I had but the half of my strength I would -fling him downstairs, and into the kennel. Will you tell him so for me, -Dorothy?” - -And I raised up in bed, shaken with anger against the man. In a trice -she was holding me, fearfully. - -“Richard, Richard, you will open your wound. I pray you be quiet.” - -“And Mr. Allen has the impudence to ask to see me!” - -“Listen, Richard. Your anger makes you forget many things. Remember that -he is a dangerous man, and now that he knows you are in London he holds -your liberty, perhaps your life, in his hands.” - -It was true. And not mine alone, but the lives and liberty of others. - -“Do you know what he wishes, Dorothy?” - -“No, he will not tell us. But he is greatly excited, and says he must -see you at once, for your own good. For your own good, Richard!” - -“I do not trust the villain, but he may come in,” I said, at length. - -She gave me the one lingering, anxious look, and opened the door. - -Never had I beheld such a change in mortal man as there was in Mr. -Allen, my old tutor, and rector of St. Anne's. And 'twas a baffling, -intangible change. 'Twas as if the mask bad been torn from his face, -for he was now just a plain adventurer that need not have imposed upon -a soul. The coarse wine and coarse food of the lower coffee-houses of -London had replaced the rich and abundant fare of Maryland. The next -day was become one of the terrors of his life. His clothes were of poor -stuff, but aimed at the fashion. And yet--and yet, as I looked upon -him, a something was in his face to puzzle me entirely. I had seen many -stamps of men, but this thing I could not recognize. - -He stepped forward with all of his old confidence, and did not regard a -farthing my cold stare. - -“'Tis like gone days to see you again, Richard,” he cried. “And I -perceive you have as ever fallen into the best of hands.” - -“I am Mr. Carvel to my enemies, if they must speak to me at all,” I -said. - -“But, my dear fellow, I am not your enemy, or I should not be here this -day. And presently I shall prove that same.” He took snuff. “But first -I must congratulate you on coming alive out of that great battle off -Flamborough. You look as though you had been very near to death, my lad. -A deal nearer than I should care to get.” - -What to say to the man! What to do save to knock him down, and I could -not do that. - -“There can be no passing the time of day between you and me, Mr. Allen,” - I answered hotly. “You, whose machinations have come as near to ruining -me as a man's can.” - -“And that was your own fault, my dear sir,” said he, as he brushed -himself. “You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very -dear to men in my position.” - -My head swam. Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with -something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes. With -a “by your leave, ma'am,” to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me. - -“You have but to call me when you wish, Richard,” said she. - -“Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not -hear,” I said instantly. “And you will do me a favour to remain.” - -She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised -his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he -kept his mouth shut. - -“And now, Mr. Allen,” I said, “to what do I owe the pain of this visit?” - -“The pain!” he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit -of laughter. “By the mass! your politeness drowns me. But I like -you, Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal -straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else. -For I have seen a deal of rogues in my day.” - -“And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen.” - -“So they have,” he cried, and laughed the more. “Egad, Miss Dorothy, -you have saved all of him, I think.” Then he swung round upon me, very -careless. “Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, -Richard?” he asked. - -That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her -chair. - -“Grafton Carvel in London?” I exclaimed. - -“Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, -I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, -and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army. -They arrived, before yesterday, from New York.” - -“And to what is this an introduction?” I demanded. - -“I merely thought it strange,” said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, “that he -had not called to inquire after his nephew's health.” - -Dolly was staring at him, with eyes wide open. - -“And pray, how did he discover I was in London, sir?” I said. “I was -about to ask how you knew of it, but that is one and the same thing.” - -He shot at me a look not to be solved. - -“It is not well to bite the hand that lifts you out of the fire, -Richard,” said he. - -“You had not gained admission to this house were I not on my back, Mr. -Allen.” - -“And that same circumstance is a blessing for you,” he cried. - -'Twas then I saw Dorothy making me mute signals of appeal. - -“I cannot think why you are here, Mr. Allen,” I said. “When you consider -all the harm you have done me, and all the double-dealing I may lay at -your door, can you blame me for my feelings?” - -“No,” he answered, with more soberness than he had yet used; “I honour -you for them. And perchance I am here to atone for some of that harm. -For I like you, my lad, and that's God's truth.” - -“All this is neither here nor there, Mr. Allen,” I exclaimed, wholly out -of patience. “If you have come with a message, let me have it. If not, I -beg you get out of my sight, for I have neither the will nor the desire -for palavering.” - -“Oh, Richard, do keep your temper!” implored Dorothy. “Can you not see -that Mr. Allen desires to do us--to do you--a service?” - -“Of that I am not so sure,” I replied. - -“It is his way, Miss Manners,” said the rector, “and I hold it not -against him. To speak truth, I looked for a worse reception, and came -steeled to withstand it. And had my skin been thin, I had left ere -now.” He took more snuff. “It was Mr. Dix,” he said to me slowly, “who -informed Mr. Carvel of your presence in London.” - -“And how the devil did Mr. Dix know?” - -He did not reply, but glanced apprehensively at Dorothy. - -And I have wondered since at his consideration. - -“Miss Manners may not wish to hear,” he said uneasily. - -“Miss Manners hears all that concerns me,” I answered. - -He shrugged his shoulders in comprehension. - -“It was Mr. Manners, then, who went to Mr. Dix, and told him under the -pledge of secrecy.” - -Not a sound came from Dorothy, nor did I dare to look at her face. The -whole matter was clear to me now. After his conversation with me, Mr. -Marmaduke had lost no time in seeing Mr. Dix, in order to raise money on -my prospects. And the man of business had gone straight to Grafton with -the intelligence. The suspicion flashed through me that Mr. Allen had -been sent to spy, but his very next words disarmed it. - -“And now, Richard,” he continued, “before I say what I have come to -say, and since you cannot now prosecute me, I mean to confess to you -something which you probably know almost to a certainty. I was in the -plot to carry you off and deprive you of your fortune. I have been paid -for it, though not very handsomely. Fears for my own safety alone kept -me from telling you and Mr. Swain. And I swear to you that I was sorry -for the venture almost before I had embarked, and ere I had received a -shilling. The scheme was laid out before I took you for a pupil; indeed, -that was part of it, as you no doubt have guessed. As God hears me, I -learned to love you, Richard, in those days at the rectory. You were all -of a man, and such an one as I might have hoped to be had I been born -like you. You said what you chose, and spoke from your own convictions, -and catered to no one. You did not whine when the luck went against you, -but lost like a gentleman, and thought no more of it. You had no fear -of the devil himself. Why should you? While your cousin Philip, with his -parrot talk and sneaking ways, turned my stomach. I was sick of him, and -sick of Grafton, I tell you. But dread of your uncle drove me on, and I -had debts to frighten me.” - -He paused. “Twas with a strange medley of emotions I looked at him. And -Dorothy, too, was leaning forward, her lips parted and her eyes riveted -upon his face. - -“Oh, I am speaking the truth,” he said bitterly. “And I assume no virtue -for the little justice it remains in my power to do. It is the lot of my -life that I must be false to some one always, and even now I am false to -your uncle. Yes, I am come to do justice, and 'tis a strange errand -for me. I know that estates have been restored to you by the Maryland -Legislature, Richard, and I believe in my heart that you will win this -war.” Here he fetched a memorandum from his pocket. “But to make you -secure,” said he, “in the year 1710, and on the 9th of March, old style, -your great-grandfather, Mr. George Carvel, drew up a document entailing -the lands of Carvel Hall. By this they legally pass to you.” - -“The family settlement Mr. Swain suspected!” I exclaimed. - -“Just so,” he answered. - -“And what am I to pay for this information?” I asked. - -Hardly were the words spoken, when Dorothy ran to my bedside, and -seizing my hand, faced him. - -“He--he is not well, Mr. Allen,” she cried. - -The rector had risen, and stood gazing down at us with the whole of his -life written on his face. That look was fearful to see, and all of -hell was expressed therein. For what is hell if it is not hope dead and -buried, and galling regret for what might have been? With mine own great -happiness so contrasted against his torture, my heart melted. - -“I am not well, indeed, Mr. Allen,” I said. “God knows how hard it is -for me to forgive, but I forgive you this night.” - -One brief instant he stared at me, and then tumbled suddenly down into -his chair, his head falling forward on his arms. And the long sobs -by which his frame was shaken awed our very souls. Dorothy drew back -against me, clasping my shoulder, the tears wet upon her cheeks. What we -looked on, there in the candlelight, was the Revelation itself. - -How long it, endured none of us might say. And when at last he raised -his face, it was haggard and worn in truth, but the evil of it seemed to -have fled. Again and again he strove to speak. The words would not obey. -And when he had mastered himself, his voice was shattered and gone. - -“Richard, I have sinned heavily in my time, and preached God's holy word -with a sneer and unbelief in my heart. He knows what I have suffered, -and what I shall yet suffer before His judgment comes for us all. But I -beg it is no sin to pray to Him for your happiness and Miss Dorothy's.” - -He stumbled there, and paused, and then continued with more steadiness: - -“I came here to-night to betray you, and might have gone hence to your -uncle to claim my pieces of silver. I remain to tell you that Grafton -has an appointment at nine with his Majesty's chief Secretary of State. -I need not mention his motives, nor dwell upon your peril. For the -King's sentiments toward Paul Jones are well known. You must leave -London without delay, and so must Mr. Manners and his family.” - -Is it the generations which decide? When I remember bow Dorothy behaved -that night, I think so. Scarce had the rector ceased when she had -released me and was standing erect before him. Pity was in her eyes, but -in her face that courage which danger itself begets in heroic women. - -“You have acted a noble part this day, Mr. Allen,” she said, “to atone -for the wrongs you have done Richard. May God forgive you, and make you -happier than you have been!” - -He struggled to his feet, listening as to a benediction. Then, with -a single glance to give me confidence, she was gone. And for a minute -there was silence between us. - -“How may you be directed to?” I asked. - -He leaped as out of a trance. - -“Just 'the world,' Richard,” said he. “For I am adrift again, and not -very like to find a harbour, now.” - -“You were to have been paid for this, Mr. Allen,” I replied. “And a man -must live.” - -“A man must live!” he cried. “The devil coined that line, and made it -some men's history.” - -“I have you on my conscience, Mr. Allen,” I went on, “for I have been at -fault as well as you. I might have treated you better, even as you have -said. And I command you to assign a place in London whence you may be -reached.” - -“A letter to the Mitre coffee-house will be delivered,” he said. - -“You shall receive it,” I answered. “And now I bid you good-by, and -thank you.” - -He seized and held my hand. Then walked blindly to the door and turned -abruptly. - -“I do not tell you that I shall change my life, Richard, for I have said -that too many times before. Indeed, I warn you that any money you may -send will be spent in drink, and--and worse. I will be no hypocrite to -you. But I believe that I am better this hour than I have been since -last I knelt at my mother's knee in the little Oxfordshire cottage where -I was born.” - -When Dorothy returned to me, there was neither haste in her step nor -excitement in her voice. Her very coolness inspired me. - -“Do you feel strong enough for a journey, Richard?” she asked. - -“To the world's end, Dolly, if you will but go with me.” - -She smiled faintly. “I have sent off for my Lord and Mr. Fox, and pray -that one of them may be here presently.” - -Scarcely greater were the visible signs of apprehension upon Mrs. -Manners. Her first care, and Dorothy's, was to catechise me most -particularly on my state. And whilst they were so occupied Mr. Marmaduke -entered, wholly frenzied from fright, and utterly oblivious to his own -blame in the matter. He was sent out again directly. After that, with -Aunt Lucy to assist, they hurriedly packed what few things might be -taken. The costly relics of Arlington Street were untouched, and the -French clock was left on the mantel to tick all the night, and for days -to come, in a silent and forsaken room; or perhaps to greet impassively -the King's officers when they broke in at the door. But I caught my lady -in the act of wrapping up the Wedgwood cups and dishes. - -In the midst of these preparations Mr. Fox was heard without, and was -met at the door by Dorothy. Two sentences sufficed her to tell him -what had occurred, and two seconds for this man of action to make his -decision. - -“In an hour you shall have travelling chaises here, Dorothy,” he said. -“You must go to Portsmouth, and take ship for Lisbon. And if Jack does -not arrive, I will go with you.” - -“No, Charles, you must not!” she cried, her emotion conquering her for -the nonce. “That might be to ruin your career, and perchance to lose -your life. And suppose we were to escape, what would they say of you!” - -“Fish!” Charles retorted, to hide some feelings of his own; “once our -rebel is out of the country, they may speak their minds. They have never -lacked for names to call me, and I have been dubbed a traitor before -now, my dear lady.” - -He stepped hastily to the bed, and laid his hand on me with affection. - -“Charles,” I said, “this is all of a piece with your old recklessness. -You were ever one to take any risk, but I will not hear of such a -venture as this. Do you think I will allow the hope of all England to be -staked for a pirate? And would you break our commander of her rank? All -that Dorothy need do at Portsmouth is to curtsey to the first skipper -she meets, and I'll warrant he will carry us all to the antipodes.” - -“Egad, but that is more practical than it sounds,” he replied, with a -glance of admiration at my lady, as she stood so tall before us. “She -has a cool head, Richard Carvel, and a long head, and--and I'm thinking -you are to come out of this the best of all of us. You cannot get far -off your course, my lad, with her at the helm.” - -It was there his voice belied the jest in his words, and he left us with -precipitation. - -They lifted me out of my sheets (I was appalled to discover my -weakness), and bundled me with tender care in a dozen shawls and -blankets. My feet were thrust into two pairs of heavy woollen stockings, -and Dorothy bound her own silk kerchief at my throat, whispering anxious -questions the while. And when her mother and mammy went from the room, -her arms flew around my neck in a passion of solicitude. Then she ran -away to dress for the journey, and in a surprising short time was back -again, with her muff and her heavy cloak, and bending over me to see if -I gave any signs of failure. - -Fifty and five minutes had been registered by the French clock, when the -rattle of wheels and the clatter of hoofs sounded below, and Charles Fox -panted up the stairs, muffled in a huge wrap-rascal. 'Twas he and Aunt -Lucy carried me down to the street, Dorothy walking at my side, and -propped me up in the padded corner of one of the two vehicles in -waiting. This was an ample travelling-carriage with a lamp hanging from -its top, by the light of which my lady tucked me in from head to foot, -and then took her place next me. Aunt Lucy filled most of the seat -opposite. The baggage was hoisted up behind, and Charles was about to -slam the door, when a hackney-chaise turned the corner at a gallop and -pulled up in the narrow street abreast, and the figure of my Lord -Comyn suddenly leaped within the compass of the lanthorn's rays. He was -dressed as for a ball, with only a thin rain-cloak over his shoulders, -for the night was thick with mist. He threw at us a startled look that -was a question. - -“Jack, Richard is to be betrayed to-night by his uncle,” said Charles, -shortly. “And I am taking them to Portsmouth to get them off for -Lisbon.” - -“Charles,” said his Lordship, sternly, “give me that greatcoat.” - -It was just the one time that ever I saw uncertainty on Mr. Fox's face. -He threw an uneasy glance into the chaise. - -“I have brought money,” his Lordship went on rapidly; “'Twas that kept -me, for I guessed at something of this kind. Give me the coat, I say.” - -Mr. Fox wriggled out of it, and took the oiled cape in return. - -“Thank you, Jack,” he said simply, and stepped into the carriage. “Who -is to mend my waistcoats now?” he cried. “Faith, I shall treasure this -against you, Richard. Good-by, my lad, and obey your rebel general. -Alas! I must even ask your permission to salute her.” - -And he kissed the unresisting Dorothy on both her cheeks. “God keep the -two of you,” he said, “for I love you with all my heart.” - -Before we could answer he was gone into the night; and my Lord, standing -without, had closed the carriage door. And that was the last I saw of -this noble man, the true friend of America, who devoted his glorious -talents and his life to fighting the corruption that was rotting the -greatness of England. He who was followed by the prayers of the English -race was ever remembered in our own humble ones. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. I COME TO MY OWN AGAIN - -'Twas a rough, wild journey we made to Portsmouth, my dears, and I -think it must have killed me had not my lady been at my side. We were no -sooner started than she pulled the curtains and opened her portmanteau, -which I saw was near filled with things for my aid and comfort. And I -was made to take a spoonful of something. Never, I believe, was medicine -swallowed with a greater willingness. Talk was impossible, so I lay back -in the corner and looked at her; and now and anon she would glance at -my face, with a troubled guess in her own as to how I might stand the -night. For we were still in London. That I knew by the trot of our -horses, and by the granite we traversed from time to time. But at length -we rumbled over a bridge, there was a sharp call back from our post-boy -to him of the chaise behind, and then began that rocking and pitching -and swaying and creaking, which was to last the whole night long, save -for the brief stops at the post-houses. - -After an hour of it, I was holding my breath against the lurches, like -a sea-sick man against that bottomless fall of the ship's bows on the -ocean. I had no pain,--only an over whelming exhaustion,--but the joy -of her touch and her presence kept me from failing. And though Aunt Lucy -dozed, not a wink of sleep did my lady get through all of those weary -twelve hours. Always alert was she, solicitous beyond belief, scanning -ever the dial of her watch to know when to give me brandy and physic; -or reaching across to feel my temples for the fever. The womanliness of -that last motion was a thing for a man to wonder at. But most -marvellous of all was the instinct which told her of my chief sickening -discomfort,--of the leathery, travelled smell of the carriage. As a -relief for this she charged her pocket-napkin with a most delicate -perfume, and held it to my face. - -When we drew up to shift horses, Jack would come to the door to inquire -if there was aught she wanted, and to know how I was bearing up. And -often Mrs. Manners likewise. At first I was for talking with them, but -this Dorothy would not allow. Presently, indeed, it was beyond my power, -and I could only smile feebly at my Lord when I heard Dolly asking him -that the hostlers might be more quiet. Toward morning a lethargy fell -upon me. Once I awoke when the lamp had burned low, to perceive the -curtains drawn back, a black blotch of trees without, and the moonlight -streaming in on my lady's features. With the crack of a whip I was off -again. - -When next consciousness came, the tarry, salt smell of a ship was in my -nostrils, and I knew that we were embarked. I lay in a clean bunk in a -fair-sized and sun-washed cabin, and I heard the scraping of ropes -and the tramp of feet on the deck above my head. Framed against the -irregular glass of the cabin window, which was greened by the water -beyond, Dorothy and my Lord stood talking in whispers. - -“Jack!” I said. - -At the sound they turned and ran toward me, asking how I felt. - -“I feel that words are very empty, Jack, to express such a gratitude as -mine,” I answered. “Twice you have saved me from death, you have paid -my debts, and have been stanch to us both in our troubles. And--” The -effort was beyond me, and I glanced appealingly at Dolly. - -“And it is to you, dear Jack,” she finished, “it is to you alone that we -owe the great joy of our lives.” - -Her eyes were shining through her tears, and her smile was like the sun -out of a rain-swept sky. His Lordship took one of her hands in his own, -and one of mine. He scanned our faces in a long, lingering look. - -“You will cherish her, Richard,” he said brokenly, “for her like is -not to be found in this world. I knew her worth when first she came to -London, as arrant a baggage as ever led man a dance. I saw then that -a great love alone was needed to make her the highest among women, and -from the night I fought with you at the Coffee House I have felt upon -whom that love would fall. O thou of little faith,” he cried, “what -little I may have done has been for her. No, Richard, you do not deserve -her, but I would rather think of her as your wife than that of any man -living.” - -I shall not dwell upon that painful farewell which wrung our hearts, and -made us silent for a long, long while after the ship was tossing in the -short seas of the Channel. - -Nor is it my purpose to tell you of that long voyage across the -Atlantic. We reached Lisbon in safety, and after a week of lodgings in -that city by the best of fortune got passage in a swift bark bound for -Baltimore. For the Chesapeake commerce continued throughout the war, and -kept alive the credit of the young nation. There were many excitements -ere we sighted the sand-spits of Virginia, and off the Azores we were -chased for a day and a night by a British sloop of war. Our captain, -however, was a cool man and a seaman, and slipped through the cruisers -lying in wait off the Capes very triumphantly. - -But the remembrance of those fair days at sea fills my soul with -longing. The weather was mild and bright for the season, and morning -upon morning two stout topmen would carry me out to a sheltered spot -on the deck, always chosen by my lady herself. There I sat by the hour, -swathed in many layers of wool, and tended by her hands alone. Every -nook and cranny of our lives were revealed to the other. She loved to -hear of Patty and my years at Gordon's, and would listen with bated -breath to the stories of the Ranger and the Bonhomme Richard, and of -that strange man whom we both loved, whose genius had made those cruises -famous. Sometimes, in low voices, we talked of our future; but often, -when the wind blew and the deck rocked and the sun flashed upon -the waters, a silence would fall between us that needed no word to -interpret. - -Mrs. Manners yielded to my wish for us all to go to Carvel Hall. It was -on a sparkling morning in February that we sighted the familiar toe of -Kent Island, and the good-natured skipper put about and made for the -mouth of our river. Then, as of old, the white cupola of Carvel House -gleamed a signal of greeting, to which our full hearts beat a silent -response. Once again the great windmill waved its welcome, and the same -memory was upon us both as we gazed. Of a hale old gentleman in the -sheets of a sailing pinnace, of a boy and a girl on his knees quivering -with excitement of the days to come. Dorothy gently pressed my hand as -the bark came into the wind, and the boat was dropped into the green -water. Slowly they lowered me into it, for I was still helpless, Dorothy -and her mother and Aunt Lucy were got down, and finally Mr. Marmaduke -stepped gingerly from the sea-ladder over the gunwale. The cutter leaped -under the strong strokes up the river with the tide. Then, as we rounded -the bend, we were suddenly astonished to see people gathered on the -landing at the foot of the lawn, where they had run, no doubt, in a -flurry at sight of the ship below. In the front of the group stood out a -strangely familiar figure. - -“Why,” exclaimed Dolly, “it is Ivie Rawlinson!” - -Ivie it was, sure enough. And presently, when we drew a little closer, -he gave one big shout and whipped off the hat from his head; and off, -too, came the caps from the white heads of Scipio and Chess and Johnson -behind him. Our oars were tossed, Ivie caught our bows, and reached his -hand to Dorothy. It was fitting that she should be the first to land at -Carvel Hall. - -“'Twas yere bonny face I seed first, Miss Dolly,” he cried, the tears -coursing down the scars of his cheeks. “An' syne I kennt weel the -young master was here. Noo God be praised for this blythe day, that Mr. -Richard's cam to his ain at last!” - -But Scipio and Chess could only blubber as they helped him to lift -me out, Dolly begging them to be careful. As they carried me up the -familiar path to the pillared porch, the first I asked Ivie was of -Patty, and next why he had left Gordon's. She was safe and well, despite -the Tories, and herself had sent him to take charge of Carvel Hall as -soon as ever Judge Bordley had brought her the news of its restoration -to me. He had supplied her with another overseer. Thanks to the good -judge and to Colonel Lloyd, who had looked to my interests since Grafton -was fled, Ivie had found the old place in good order, all the negroes -quiet, and impatient with joy against my arrival. - -It is time, my children, to bring this story to a close. I would I might -write of those delicious spring days I spent with Dorothy at Carvel -Hall, waited on by the old servants of my grandfather. At our whim my -chair would be moved from one to another of the childhood haunts; on -cool days we sat in the sun by the dial, where the flowers mingled their -odours with the salt breezes off the Chesapeake; or anon, when it was -warmer, in the summer-house my mother loved, or under the shade of the -great trees on the lawn, looking out over the river. And once my lady -went off very mysteriously, her eyes brimful of mischief, to come back -with the first strawberries of the year staining her apron. - -We were married on the fifteenth of June, already an anniversary for us -both, in the long drawing-room. General Clapsaddle was there from the -army to take Dorothy in his arms, even as he had embraced another bride -on the same spot in years gone by. She wore the wedding gown that was -her mother's, but when the hour was come to dress her Aunt Lucy and Aunt -Hester failed in their task, and it was Patty who performed the most of -that office, and hung the necklace of pearls about her neck. - -Dear Patty! She hath often been with us since. You have heard your -mothers and fathers speak of Aunt Patty, my dears, and they will tell -you how she spoiled them when they went a-visiting to Gordon's Pride. - -Ere I had regained my health, the war for Independence was won. I pray -God that time may soften the bitterness it caused, and heal the breach -in that noble race whose motto is Freedom. That the Stars and Stripes -and the Union Jack may one day float together to cleanse this world of -tyranny! - - - - -AFTERWORD - -The author makes most humble apologies to any who have, or think they -have, an ancestor in this book. He has drawn the foregoing with a very -free hand, and in the Maryland scenes has made use of names rather than -of actual personages. His purpose, however poorly accomplished, was to -give some semblance of reality to this part of the story. Hence he has -introduced those names in the setting, choosing them entirely at random -from the many prominent families of the colony. - -No one may read the annals of these men, who were at once brave and -courtly, and of these women, who were ladies by nature as well as by -birth, and not love them. The fascination of that free and hospitable -life has been so strong on the writer of this novel that he closes it -with a genuine regret and the hope that its perusal may lead others to -the pleasure he has derived from the history of Maryland. - -As few liberties as possible have been taken with the lives of Charles -James Fox and of John Paul Jones. The latter hero actually made a voyage -in the brigantine 'John' about the time he picked up Richard Carvel -from the Black Moll, after the episode with Mungo Maxwell at Tobago. The -Scotch scene, of course, is purely imaginary. Accuracy has been aimed -at in the account of the fight between the 'Bonhomme Richard' and the -'Serapis', while a little different arrangement might have been better -for the medium of the narrative. To be sure, it was Mr. Mease, -the purser, instead of Richard Carvel, who so bravely fought the -quarter-deck guns; and in reality Midshipman Mayrant, Commodore Jones's -aide, was wounded by a pike in the thigh after the surrender. No -injustice is done to the second and third lieutenants, who were absent -from the ship during the action. - -The author must acknowledge that the only good anecdote in the book and -the only verse worth printing are stolen. The story on page concerning -Mr. Garrick and the Archbishop of York may be found in Fitzgerald's -life of the actor, much better told. The verse (in Chapter X) is by an -unknown author in the Annapolis Gazette, and is republished in Mr. Elihu -Riley's excellent “History of Annapolis.” - - - PG EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - - A bold front is half the battle - A man ought never to be frightened by appearances - Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest - Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back - Genius honored but never encouraged - God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see - He was our macaroni of Annapolis - Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys - It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven - No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing - Shaped his politics according to the company he was in - Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad - Sir, I have not yet begun to fight - The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure - Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages) - Thy politics are not over politic - Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur - Within every man's province to make himself what he will - Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle - Youth is in truth a mystery - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Richard Carvel, Complete, by Winston Churchill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - -***** This file should be named 5373-0.txt or 5373-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/5373/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Richard Carvel, Complete - -Author: Winston Churchill - -Release Date: October 6, 2006 [EBook #5373] -Last Updated: February 26, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - - <h1> - RICHARD CARVEL - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h2> - By Winston Churchill - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2H_FORE"> FOREWORD </a><br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>RICHARD CARVEL</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>Volume 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> LIONEL CARVEL, OF - CARVEL HALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> SOME - MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. - </a> CAUGHT BY THE TIDE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> - CHAPTER IV. </a> GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> "IF LADIES BE BUT - YOUNG AND FAIR” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> I - FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER - VII. </a> GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0011"> <b>Volume 2.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> OVER THE WALL <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> UNDER FALSE COLOURS - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE RED - IN THE CARVEL BLOOD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A - FESTIVAL AND A PARTING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. - </a> NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0017"> <b>Volume 3.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> MR. ALLEN SHOWS HIS - HAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE - VOLTE COUPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> OF - WHICH THE RECTOR HAS THE WORST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> - CHAPTER XVI. </a> IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> SOUTH RIVER <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> THE “BLACK MOLL” - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> <b>Volume 4.</b> </a> - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> A MAN - OF DESTINY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> A - SAD HOME-COMING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE - GARDENER'S COTTAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. - </a> ON THE ROAD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER - XXIII. </a> LONDON TOWN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> - CHAPTER XXIV. </a> CASTLE YARD <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE RESCUE <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> <b>Volume 5.</b> </a> <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> THE PART HORATIO - PLAYED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> IN - WHICH I AM SORE TEMPTED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER - XXVIII. </a> ARLINGTON STREET <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> I MEET A VERY GREAT - YOUNG MAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> A - CONSPIRACY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> "UPSTAIRS - INTO THE WORLD” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> LADY - TANKERVILLE'S DRUM-MAJOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER - XXXIII. </a> DRURY LANE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> - <b>Volume 6.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> - CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> HIS GRACE MAKES ADVANCES <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> IN WHICH MY LORD - BALTIMORE APPEARS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. - </a> A GLIMPSE OF MR. GARRICK <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> THE SERPENTINE - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> IN - WHICH I AM ROUNDLY BROUGHT TO TASK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> - CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> HOLLAND HOUSE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> VAUXHALL <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> THE WILDERNESS <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> <b>Volume 7.</b> </a> <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> MY FRIENDS ARE - PROVEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> ANNAPOLIS - ONCE MORE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> NOBLESSE - OBLIGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> THE - HOUSE OF MEMORIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a> GORDON'S - PRIDE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a> VISITORS - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a> MULTUM - IN PARVO <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a> LIBERTY - LOSES A FRIEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> <b>Volume 8.</b> - </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. </a> FAREWELL - TO GORDON'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. </a> HOW - AN IDLE PROPHECY CAME TO PASS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0052"> - CHAPTER LII. </a> HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE “SERAPIS” - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. </a> IN - WHICH I MAKE SOME DISCOVERIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0054"> - CHAPTER LIV. </a> MORE DISCOVERIES <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV. </a> "THE LOVE OF A MAID - FOR A MAN” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI. </a> HOW - GOOD CAME OUT OF EVIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII. - </a> I COME TO MY OWN AGAIN <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0068"> AFTERWORD </a> <br /><br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_FORE" id="link2H_FORE"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h2> - FOREWORD - </h2> - <p> - My sons and daughters have tried to persuade me to remodel these memoirs - of my grandfather into a latter-day romance. But I have thought it wiser - to leave them as he wrote them. Albeit they contain some details not of - interest to the general public, to my notion it is such imperfections as - these which lend to them the reality they bear. Certain it is, when - reading them, I live his life over again. - </p> - <p> - Needless to say, Mr. Richard Carvel never intended them for publication. - His first apology would be for his Scotch, and his only defence is that he - was not a Scotchman. - </p> - <p> - The lively capital which once reflected the wit and fashion of Europe has - fallen into decay. The silent streets no more echo with the rumble of - coaches and gay chariots, and grass grows where busy merchants trod. - Stately ball-rooms, where beauty once reigned, are cold and empty and - mildewed, and halls, where laughter rang, are silent. Time was when every - wide-throated chimney poured forth its cloud of smoke, when every andiron - held a generous log,—andirons which are now gone to decorate Mr. - Centennial's home in New York or lie with a tag in the window of some - curio shop. The mantel, carved in delicate wreaths, is boarded up, and an - unsightly stove mocks the gilded ceiling. Children romp in that room with - the silver door-knobs, where my master and his lady were wont to sit at - cards in silk and brocade, while liveried blacks entered on tiptoe. No - marble Cupids or tall Dianas fill the niches in the staircase, and the - mahogany board, round which has been gathered many a famous toast and wit, - is gone from the dining room. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Carvel's town house in Annapolis stands to-day, with its - neighbours, a mournful relic of a glory that is past. - </p> - <p> - DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL. - </p> - <p> - CALVERT HOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA, December 21, 1876. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h1> - RICHARD CARVEL - </h1> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 1. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. LIONEL CARVEL, OF CARVEL HALL - </h2> - <p> - Lionel Carvel, Esq., of Carvel Hall, in the county of Queen Anne, was no - inconsiderable man in his Lordship's province of Maryland, and indeed he - was not unknown in the colonial capitals from Williamsburg to Boston. When - his ships arrived out, in May or June, they made a goodly showing at the - wharves, and his captains were ever shrewd men of judgment who sniffed a - Frenchman on the horizon, so that none of the Carvel tobacco ever went, in - that way, to gladden a Gallic heart. Mr. Carvel's acres were both rich and - broad, and his house wide for the stranger who might seek its shelter, as - with God's help so it ever shall be. It has yet to be said of the Carvels - that their guests are hurried away, or that one, by reason of his worldly - goods or position, shall be more welcome than another. - </p> - <p> - I take no shame in the pride with which I write of my grandfather, albeit - he took the part of his Majesty and Parliament against the Colonies. He - was no palavering turncoat, like my Uncle Grafton, to cry “God save the - King!” again when an English fleet sailed up the bay. Mr. Carvel's hand - was large and his heart was large, and he was respected and even loved by - the patriots as a man above paltry subterfuge. He was born at Carvel Hall - in the year of our Lord 1696, when the house was, I am told, but a small - dwelling. It was his father, George Carvel, my great-grandsire, reared the - present house in the year 1720, of brick brought from England as ballast - for the empty ships; he added on, in the years following, the wide wings - containing the ball-room, and the banquet-hall, and the large library at - the eastern end, and the offices. But it was my grandfather who built the - great stables and the kennels where he kept his beagles and his fleeter - hounds. He dearly loved the saddle and the chase, and taught me to love - them too. Many the sharp winter day I have followed the fox with him over - two counties, and lain that night, and a week after, forsooth, at the - plantation of some kind friend who was only too glad to receive us. Often, - too, have we stood together from early morning until dark night, waist - deep, on the duck points, I with a fowling-piece I was all but too young - to carry, and brought back a hundred red-heads or canvas-backs in our - bags. He went with unfailing regularity to the races at Annapolis or - Chestertown or Marlborough, often to see his own horses run, where the - coaches of the gentry were fifty and sixty around the course; where a - negro, or a hogshead of tobacco, or a pipe of Madeira was often staked at - a single throw. Those times, my children, are not ours, and I thought it - not strange that Mr. Carvel should delight in a good main between two - cocks, or a bull-baiting, or a breaking of heads at the Chestertown fair, - where he went to show his cattle and fling a guinea into the ring for the - winner. - </p> - <p> - But it must not be thought that Lionel Carvel, your ancestor, was wholly - unlettered because he was a sportsman, though it must be confessed that - books occupied him only when the weather compelled, or when on his back - with the gout. At times he would fain have me read to him as he lay in his - great four-post bed with the flowered counterpane, from the Spectator, - stopping me now and anon at some awakened memory of his youth. He never - forgave Mr. Addison for killing stout, old Sir Roger de Coverley, and - would never listen to the butler's account of his death. Mr. Carvel, too, - had walked in Gray's Inn Gardens and met adventure at Fox Hall, and seen - the great Marlborough himself. He had a fondness for Mr. Congreve's - Comedies, many of which he had seen acted; and was partial to Mr. Gay's - Trivia, which brought him many a recollection. He would also listen to - Pope. But of the more modern poetry I think Mr. Gray's Elegy pleased him - best. He would laugh over Swift's gall and wormwood, and would never be - brought by my mother to acknowledge the defects in the Dean's character. - Why? He had once met the Dean in a London drawing-room, when my - grandfather was a young spark at Christ Church, Oxford. He never tired of - relating that interview. The hostess was a very great lady indeed, and - actually stood waiting for a word with his Reverence, whose whim it was - rather to talk to the young provincial. He was a forbidding figure, in his - black gown and periwig, so my grandfather said, with a piercing blue eye - and shaggy brow. He made the mighty to come to him, while young Carvel - stood between laughter and fear of the great lady's displeasure. - </p> - <p> - “I knew of your father,” said the Dean, “before he went to the colonies. - He had done better at home, sir. He was a man of parts.” - </p> - <p> - “He has done indifferently well in Maryland, sir,” said Mr. Carvel, making - his bow. - </p> - <p> - “He hath gained wealth, forsooth,” says the Dean, wrathfully, “and might - have had both wealth and fame had his love for King James not turned his - head. I have heard much of the colonies, and have read that doggerel 'Sot - Weed Factor' which tells of the gluttonous life of ease you lead in your - own province. You can have no men of mark from such conditions, Mr. - Carvel. Tell me,” he adds contemptuously, “is genius honoured among you?” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, it is honoured, your Reverence,” said my grandfather, “but never - encouraged.” - </p> - <p> - This answer so pleased the Dean that he bade Mr. Carvel dine with him next - day at Button's Coffee House, where they drank mulled wine and old sack, - for which young Mr. Carvel paid. On which occasion his Reverence - endeavoured to persuade the young man to remain in England, and even went - so far as to promise his influence to obtain him preferment. But Mr. - Carvel chose rather (wisely or not, who can judge?) to come back to Carvel - Hall and to the lands of which he was to be master, and to play the - country squire and provincial magnate rather than follow the varying - fortunes of a political party at home. And he was a man much looked up to - in the province before the Revolution, and sat at the council board of his - Excellency the Governor, as his father had done before him, and - represented the crown in more matters than one when the French and savages - were upon our frontiers. - </p> - <p> - Although a lover of good cheer, Mr. Carvel was never intemperate. To the - end of his days he enjoyed his bottle after dinner, nay, could scarce get - along without it; and mixed a punch or a posset as well as any in our - colony. He chose a good London-brewed ale or porter, and his ships brought - Madeira from that island by the pipe, and sack from Spain and Portugal, - and red wine from France when there was peace. And puncheons of rum from - Jamaica and the Indies for his people, holding that no gentleman ever - drank rum in the raw, though fairly supportable as punch. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel's house stands in Marlborough Street, a dreary mansion enough. - Praised be Heaven that those who inherit it are not obliged to live there - on the memory of what was in days gone by. The heavy green shutters are - closed; the high steps, though stoutly built, are shaky after these years - of disuse; the host of faithful servants who kept its state are nearly all - laid side by side at Carvel Hall. Harvey and Chess and Scipio are no more. - The kitchen, whither a boyish hunger oft directed my eyes at twilight, - shines not with the welcoming gleam of yore. Chess no longer prepares the - dainties which astonished Mr. Carvel's guests, and which he alone could - cook. The coach still stands in the stables where Harvey left it, a - lumbering relic of those lumbering times when methinks there was more of - goodwill and less of haste in the world. The great brass knocker, once - resplendent from Scipio's careful hand, no longer fantastically reflects - the guest as he beats his tattoo, and Mr. Peale's portrait of my - grandfather is gone from the dining-room wall, adorning, as you know, our - own drawing-room at Calvert House. - </p> - <p> - I shut my eyes, and there comes to me unbidden that dining-room in - Marlborough Street of a gray winter's afternoon, when I was but a lad. I - see my dear grandfather in his wig and silver-laced waistcoat and his blue - velvet coat, seated at the head of the table, and the precise Scipio has - put down the dumb-waiter filled with shining cut-glass at his left hand, - and his wine chest at his right, and with solemn pomp driven his black - assistants from the room. Scipio was Mr. Carvel's butler. He was forbid to - light the candles after dinner. As dark grew on, Mr. Carvel liked the - blazing logs for light, and presently sets the decanter on the corner of - the table and draws nearer the fire, his guests following. I recall well - how jolly Governor Sharpe, who was a frequent visitor with us, was wont to - display a comely calf in silk stocking; and how Captain Daniel Clapsaddle - would spread his feet with his toes out, and settle his long pipe between - his teeth. And there were besides a host of others who sat at that fire - whose names have passed into Maryland's history,—Whig and Tory - alike. And I remember a tall slip of a lad who sat listening by the - deep-recessed windows on the street, which somehow are always covered in - these pictures with a fine rain. Then a coach passes,—a mahogany - coach emblazoned with the Manners's coat of arms, and Mistress Dorothy and - her mother within. And my young lady gives me one of those demure bows - which ever set my heart agoing like a smith's hammer of a Monday. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. SOME MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD - </h2> - <p> - A traveller who has all but gained the last height of the great - mist-covered mountain looks back over the painful crags he has mastered to - where a light is shining on the first easy slope. That light is ever - visible, for it is Youth. - </p> - <p> - After nigh fourscore and ten years of life that Youth is nearer to me now - than many things which befell me later. I recall as yesterday the day - Captain Clapsaddle rode to the Hall, his horse covered with sweat, and the - reluctant tidings of Captain Jack Carvel's death on his lips. And - strangely enough that day sticks in my memory as of delight rather than - sadness. When my poor mother had gone up the stairs on my grandfather's - arm the strong soldier took me on his knee, and drawing his pistol from - his holster bade me snap the lock, which I was barely able to do. And he - told me wonderful tales of the woods beyond the mountains, and of the - painted men who tracked them; much wilder and fiercer they were than those - stray Nanticokes I had seen from time to time near Carvel Hall. And when - at last he would go I clung to him, so he swung me to the back of his - great horse Ronald, and I seized the bridle in my small hands. The noble - beast, like his master, loved a child well, and he cantered off lightly at - the captain's whistle, who cried “bravo” and ran by my side lest I should - fall. Lifting me off at length he kissed me and bade me not to annoy my - mother, the tears in his eyes again. And leaping on Ronald was away for - the ferry with never so much as a look behind, leaving me standing in the - road. - </p> - <p> - And from that time I saw more of him and loved him better than any man - save my grandfather. He gave me a pony on my next birthday, and a little - hogskin saddle made especially by Master Wythe, the London saddler in the - town, with a silver-mounted bridle. Indeed, rarely did the captain return - from one of his long journeys without something for me and a handsome - present for my mother. Mr. Carvel would have had him make his home with us - when we were in town, but this he would not do. He lodged in Church - Street, over against the Coffee House, dining at that hostelry when not - bidden out, or when not with us. He was much sought after. I believe there - was scarce a man of note in any of the colonies not numbered among his - friends. 'Twas said he loved my mother, and could never come to care for - any other woman, and he promised my father in the forests to look after - her welfare and mine. This promise, you shall see, he faithfully kept. - </p> - <p> - Though you have often heard from my lips the story of my mother, I must - for the sake of those who are to come after you, set it down here as - briefly as I may. My grandfather's bark 'Charming Sally', Captain Stanwix, - having set out from Bristol on the 15th of April, 1736, with a fair wind - astern and a full cargo of English goods below, near the Madeiras fell in - with foul weather, which increased as she entered the trades. Captain - Stanwix being a prudent man, shortened sail, knowing the harbour of - Funchal to be but a shallow bight in the rock, and worse than the open sea - in a southeaster. The third day he hove the Sally to; being a stout craft - and not overladen she weathered the gale with the loss of a jib, and was - about making topsails again when a full-rigged ship was descried in the - offing giving signals of distress. Night was coming on very fast, and the - sea was yet running too high for a boat to live, but the gallant captain - furled his topsails once more to await the morning. It could be seen from - her signals that the ship was living throughout the night, but at dawn she - foundered before the Sally's boats could be put in the water; one of them - was ground to pieces on the falls. Out of the ship's company and - passengers they picked up but five souls, four sailors and a little girl - of two years or thereabouts. The men knew nothing more of her than that - she had come aboard at Brest with her mother, a quiet, delicate lady who - spoke little with the other passengers. The ship was 'La Favourite du - Roy', bound for the French Indies. - </p> - <p> - Captain Stanwix's wife, who was a good, motherly person, took charge of - the little orphan, and arriving at Carvel Hall delivered her to my - grandfather, who brought her up as his own daughter. You may be sure the - emblem of Catholicism found upon her was destroyed, and she was baptized - straightway by Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, into the - Established Church. Her clothes were of the finest quality, and her little - handkerchief had worked into the corner of it a coronet, with the initials - “E de T” beside it. Around her neck was that locket with the gold chain - which I have so often shown you, on one side of which is the miniature of - the young officer in his most Christian Majesty's uniform, and on the - other a yellow-faded slip of paper with these words: “Elle est la mienne, - quoiqu'elle ne porte pas mou nom.” “She is mine, although she does not - bear my name.” - </p> - <p> - My grandfather wrote to the owners of 'La Favourite du Roy', and likewise - directed his English agent to spare nothing in the search for some clew to - the child's identity. All that he found was that the mother had been - entered on the passenger-list as Madame la Farge, of Paris, and was bound - for Martinico. Of the father there was no trace whatever. The name “la - Farge” the agent, Mr. Dix, knew almost to a certainty was assumed, and the - coronet on the handkerchief implied that the child was of noble parentage. - The meaning conveyed by the paper in the locket, which was plainly a - clipping from a letter, was such that Mr. Carvel never showed it to my - mother, and would have destroyed it had he not felt that some day it might - aid in solving the mystery. So he kept it in his strongbox, where he - thought it safe from prying eyes. But my Uncle Grafton, ever a deceitful - lad, at length discovered the key and read the paper, and afterwards used - the knowledge he thus obtained as a reproach and a taunt against my - mother. I cannot even now write his name without repulsion. - </p> - <p> - This new member of the household was renamed Elizabeth Carvel, though they - called her Bess, and of a course she was greatly petted and spoiled, and - ruled all those about her. As she grew from childhood to womanhood her - beauty became talked about, and afterwards, when Mistress Carvel went to - the Assembly, a dozen young sparks would crowd about the door of her - coach, and older and more serious men lost their heads on her account. - </p> - <p> - Her devotion to Mr. Carvel was such, however, that she seemed to care but - little for the attention she received, and she continued to grace his - board and entertain his company. He fairly worshipped her. It was his - delight to surprise her with presents from England, with rich silks and - brocades for gowns, for he loved to see her bravely dressed. The spinet he - gave her, inlaid with ivory, we have still. And he caused a chariot to be - made for her in London, and she had her own horses and her groom in the - Carvel livery. - </p> - <p> - People said it was but natural that she should fall in love with Captain - Jack, my father. He was the soldier of the family, tall and straight and - dashing. He differed from his younger brother Grafton as day from night. - Captain Jack was open and generous, though a little given to rash - enterprise and madcap adventure. He loved my mother from a child. His - friend Captain Clapsaddle loved her too, and likewise Grafton, but it soon - became evident that she would marry Captain Jack or nobody. He was my - grandfather's favourite, and though Mr. Carvel had wished him more - serious, his joy when Bess blushingly told him the news was a pleasure to - see. And Grafton turned to revenge; he went to Mr. Carvel with the paper - he had taken from the strong-box and claimed that my mother was of - spurious birth and not fit to marry a Carvel. He afterwards spread the - story secretly among the friends of the family. By good fortune little - harm arose therefrom, since all who knew my mother loved her, and were - willing to give her credit for the doubt; many, indeed, thought the story - sprang from Grafton's jealousy and hatred. Then it was that Mr. Carvel - gave to Grafton the estate in Kent County and bade him shift for himself, - saying that he washed his hands of a son who had acted such a part. - </p> - <p> - But Captain Clapsaddle came to the wedding in the long drawing-room at the - Hall and stood by Captain Jack when he was married, and kissed the bride - heartily. And my mother cried about this afterwards, and said that it - grieved her sorely that she should have given pain to such a noble man. - </p> - <p> - After the blow which left her a widow, she continued to keep Mr. Carvel's - home. I recall her well, chiefly as a sad and beautiful woman, stately - save when she kissed me with passion and said that I bore my father's - look. She drooped like the flower she was, and one spring day my - grandfather led me to receive her blessing and to be folded for the last - time in those dear arms. With a smile on her lips she rose to heaven to - meet my father. And she lies buried with the rest of the Carvels at the - Hall, next to the brave captain, her husband. - </p> - <p> - And so I grew up with my grandfather, spending the winters in town and the - long summers on the Eastern Shore. I loved the country best, and the old - house with its hundred feet of front standing on the gentle slope rising - from the river's mouth, the green vines Mr. Carvel had fetched from - England all but hiding the brick, and climbing to the angled roof; and the - velvet green lawn of silvery grass brought from England, descending gently - terrace by terrace to the waterside, where lay our pungies and barges. - There was then a tiny pillared porch framing the front door, for our - ancestors never could be got to realize the Maryland climate, and would - rarely build themselves wide verandas suitable to that colony. At Carvel - Hall we had, to be sure, the cool spring house under the willows for - sultry days, with its pool dished out for bathing; and a trellised arbour, - and octagonal summer house with seats where my mother was wont to sit - sewing while my grandfather dreamed over his pipe. On the lawn stood the - oaks and walnuts and sycamores which still cast their shade over it, and - under them of a summer's evening Mr. Carvel would have his tea alone; save - oftentimes when a barge would come swinging up the river with ten - velvet-capped blacks at the oars, and one of our friendly neighbours—Mr. - Lloyd or Mr. Bordley, or perchance little Mr. Manners—would stop for - a long evening with him. They seldom came without their ladies and - children. What romps we youngsters had about the old place whilst our - elders talked their politics. - </p> - <p> - In childhood the season which delighted me the most was spring. I would - count the days until St. Taminas, which, as you knew, falls on the first - of May. And the old custom was for the young men to deck themselves out as - Indian bucks and sweep down on the festivities around the Maypole on the - town green, or at night to surprise the guests at a ball and force the - gentlemen to pay down a shilling, and sometimes a crown apiece, and the - host to give them a bowl of punch. Then came June. My grandfather - celebrated his Majesty's birthday in his own jolly fashion, and I had my - own birthday party on the tenth. And on the fifteenth, unless it chanced - upon a Sunday, my grandfather never failed to embark in his pinnace at the - Annapolis dock for the Hall. Once seated in the stern between Mr. Carvel's - knees, what rapture when at last we shot out into the blue waters of the - bay and I thought of the long summer of joy before me. Scipio was - generalissimo of these arrangements, and was always at the dock punctually - at ten to hand my grandfather in, a ceremony in which he took great pride, - and to look his disapproval should we be late. As he turned over the key - of the town house he would walk away with a stern dignity to marshal the - other servants in the horse-boat. - </p> - <p> - One fifteenth of June two children sat with bated breath in the pinnace,—Dorothy - Manners and myself. Mistress Dolly was then as mischievous a little - baggage as ever she proved afterwards. She was coming to pass a week at - the Hall, her parents, whose place was next to ours, having gone to - Philadelphia on a visit. We rounded Kent Island, which lay green and - beautiful in the flashing waters, and at length caught sight of the old - windmill, with its great arms majestically turning, and the cupola of - Carvel House shining white among the trees; and of the upper spars of the - shipping, with sails neatly furled, lying at the long wharves, where the - English wares Mr. Carvel had commanded for the return trips were - unloading. Scarce was the pinnace brought into the wind before I had - leaped ashore and greeted with a shout the Hall servants drawn up in a - line on the green, grinning a welcome. Dorothy and I scampered over the - grass and into the cool, wide house, resting awhile on the easy sloping - steps within, hand in hand. And then away for that grand tour of - inspection we had been so long planning together. How well I recall that - sunny afternoon, when the shadows of the great oaks were just beginning to - lengthen. Through the greenhouses we marched, monarchs of all we surveyed, - old Porphery, the gardener, presenting Mistress Dolly with a crown of - orange blossoms, for which she thanked him with a pretty courtesy her - governess had taught her. Were we not king and queen returned to our - summer palace? And Spot and Silver and Song and Knipe, the wolf-hound, - were our train, though not as decorous as rigid etiquette demanded, since - they were forever running after the butterflies. On we went through the - stiff, box-bordered walks of the garden, past the weather-beaten sundial - and the spinning-house and the smoke-house to the stables. Here old - Harvey, who had taught me to ride Captain Daniel's pony, is equerry, and - young Harvey our personal attendant; old Harvey smiles as we go in and out - of the stalls rubbing the noses of our trusted friends, and gives a gruff - but kindly warning as to Cassandra's heels. He recalls my father at the - same age. - </p> - <p> - Jonas Tree, the carpenter, sits sunning himself on his bench before the - shop, but mysteriously disappears when he sees us, and returns presently - with a little ship he has fashioned for me that winter, all complete with - spars and sails, for Jonas was a shipwright on the Severn in the old - country before he came as a king's passenger to the new. Dolly and I are - off directly to the backwaters of the river, where the new boat is - launched with due ceremony as the Conqueror, his Majesty's latest - ship-of-the-line. Jonas himself trims her sails, and she sets off right - gallantly across the shallows, heeling to the breeze for all the world - like a real man-o'-war. Then the King would fain cruise at once against - the French, but Queen Dorothy must needs go with him. His Majesty points - out that when fighting is to be done, a ship of war is no place for a - woman, whereat her Majesty stamps her little foot and throws her crown of - orange blossoms from her, and starts off for the milk-house in high - dudgeon, vowing she will play no more. - </p> - <p> - And it ends as it ever will end, be the children young or old, for the - French pass from his Majesty's mind and he runs after his consort to - implore forgiveness, leaving poor Jonas to take care of the Conqueror. - </p> - <p> - How short those summer days? All too short for the girl and boy who had so - much to do in them. The sun rising over the forest often found us peeping - through the blinds, and when he sank into the bay at night we were still - running, tired but happy, and begging patient Hester for half an hour - more. - </p> - <p> - “Lawd, Marse Dick,” I can hear her say, “you an' Miss Dolly's been on yo' - feet since de dawn. And so's I, honey.” - </p> - <p> - And so we had. We would spend whole days on the wharves, all bustle and - excitement, sometimes seated on the capstan of the Sprightly Bess or - perched in the nettings of the Oriole, of which ship old Stanwix was now - captain. He had grown gray in Mr. Carvel's service, and good Mrs. Stanwix - was long since dead. Often we would mount together on the little horse - Captain Daniel had given me, Dorothy on a pillion behind, to go with my - grandfather to inspect the farm. Mr. Starkie, the overseer, would ride - beside us, his fowling-piece slung over his shoulder and his holster on - his hip; a kind man and capable, and unlike Mr. Evans, my Uncle Grafton's - overseer, was seldom known to use his firearms or the rawhide slung across - his saddle. The negroes in their linsey-woolsey jackets and checked - trousers would stand among the hills grinning at us children as we passed; - and there was not one of them, nor of the white servants for that matter, - that I could not call by name. - </p> - <p> - And all this time I was busily wooing Mistress Dolly; but she, little - minx, would give me no satisfaction. I see her standing among the - strawberries, her black hair waving in the wind, and her red lips redder - still from the stain. And the sound of her childish voice comes back to me - now after all these years. And this was my first proposal: - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, when you grow up and I grow up, you will marry me, and I shall - give you all these strawberries.” - </p> - <p> - “I will marry none but a soldier,” says she, “and a great man.” - </p> - <p> - “Then will I be a soldier,” I cried, “and greater than the Governor - himself.” And I believed it. - </p> - <p> - “Papa says I shall marry an earl,” retorts Dorothy, with a toss of her - pretty head. - </p> - <p> - “There are no earls among us,” I exclaimed hotly, for even then I had some - of that sturdy republican spirit which prevailed among the younger - generation. “Our earls are those who have made their own way, like my - grandfather.” For I had lately heard Captain Clapsaddle say this and much - more on the subject. But Dorothy turned up her nose. - </p> - <p> - “I shall go home when I am eighteen,”—she said, “and I shall meet - his Majesty the King.” - </p> - <p> - And to such an argument I found no logical answer. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Marmaduke Manners and his lady came to fetch Dorothy home. He was a - foppish little gentleman who thought more of the cut of his waistcoat than - of the affairs of the province, and would rather have been bidden to lead - the assembly ball than to sit in council with his Excellency the Governor. - My first recollection of him is of contempt. He must needs have his - morning punch just so, and complained whiningly of Scipio if some - perchance were spilled on the glass. He must needs be taken abroad in a - chair when it rained. And though in the course of a summer he was often at - Carvel Hall he never tarried long, and came to see Mr. Carvel's guests - rather than Mr. Carvel. He had little in common with my grandfather, whose - chief business and pleasure was to promote industry on his farm. Mr. - Marmaduke was wont to rise at noon, and knew not wheat from barley, or - good leaf from bad; his hands he kept like a lady's, rendering them almost - useless by the long lace on the sleeves, and his chief pastime was - card-playing. It was but reasonable therefore, when the troubles with the - mother country began, that he chose the King's side alike from indolence - and contempt for things republican. - </p> - <p> - Of Mrs. Manners I shall say more by and by. - </p> - <p> - I took a mischievous delight in giving Mr. Manners every annoyance my - boyish fancy could conceive. The evening of his arrival he and Mr. Carvel - set out for a stroll about the house, Mr. Marmaduke mincing his steps, for - it had rained that morning. And presently they came upon the windmill with - its long arms moving lazily in the light breeze, near touching the ground - as they passed, for the mill was built in the Dutch fashion. I know not - what moved me, but hearing Mr. Manners carelessly humming a minuet while - my grandfather explained the usefulness of the mill, I seized hold of one - of the long arms as it swung by, and before the gentlemen could prevent - was carried slowly upwards. Dorothy screamed, and her father stood stock - still with amazement and fear, Mr. Carvel being the only one who kept his - presence of mind. “Hold on tight, Richard!” I heard him cry. It was dizzy - riding, though the motion was not great, and before I had reached the - right angle I regretted my rashness. I caught a glimpse of the Bay with - the red sun on it, and as I turned saw far below me the white figure of - Ivie Rawlinson, the Scotch miller, who had run out. “O haith!” he shouted. - “Hand fast, Mr. Richard!”—And so I clung tightly and came down - without much inconvenience, though indifferently glad to feel the ground - again. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Marmaduke, as I expected, was in a great temper, and swore he had not - had such a fright for years. He looked for Mr. Carvel to cane me stoutly: - But Ivie laughed heartily, and said: “I wad yell gang far for anither - laddie wi' the spunk, Mr. Manners,” and with a sly look at my grandfather, - “Ilka day we hae some sic whigmeleery.” - </p> - <p> - I think Mr. Carvel was not ill pleased with the feat, or with Mr. - Marmaduke's way of taking it. For afterwards I overheard him telling the - story to Colonel Lloyd, and both gentlemen laughing over Mr. Manners's - discomfiture. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. CAUGHT BY THE TIDE - </h2> - <p> - It is a nigh impossible task on the memory to trace those influences by - which a lad is led to form his life's opinions, and for my part I hold - that such things are bred into the bone, and that events only serve to - strengthen them. In this way only can I account for my bitterness, at a - very early age, against that King whom my seeming environment should have - made me love. For my grandfather was as stanch a royalist as ever held a - cup to majesty's health. And children are most apt before they can reason - for themselves to take the note from those of their elders who surround - them. It is true that many of Mr. Carvel's guests were of the opposite - persuasion from him: Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley, - and many others, including our friend Captain Clapsaddle. And these - gentlemen were frequently in argument, but political discussion is Greek - to a lad. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel, as I have said, was most of his life a member of the Council, - a man from whom both Governor Sharpe and Governor Eden were glad to take - advice because of his temperate judgment and deep knowledge of the people - of the province. At times, when his Council was scattered, Governor Sharpe - would consult Mr. Carvel alone, and often have I known my grandfather to - embark in haste from the Hall in response to a call from his Excellency. - </p> - <p> - 'Twas in the latter part of August, in the year 1765, made memorable by - the Stamp Act, that I first came in touch with the deep-set feelings of - the times then beginning, and I count from that year the awakening of the - sympathy which determined my career. One sultry day I was wading in the - shallows after crabs, when the Governor's messenger came drifting in, all - impatience at the lack of wind. He ran to the house to seek Mr. Carvel, - and I after him, with all a boy's curiosity, as fast as my small legs - would carry me. My grandfather hurried out to order his barge to be got - ready at once, so that I knew something important was at hand. At first he - refused me permission to go, but afterwards relented, and about eleven in - the morning we pulled away strongly, the ten blacks bending to the oars as - if their lives were at stake. - </p> - <p> - A wind arose before we sighted Greensbury Point, and I saw a bark sailing - in, but thought nothing of this until Mr. Carvel, who had been silent and - preoccupied, called for his glass and swept her decks. She soon shortened - sail, and went so leisurely that presently our light barge drew alongside, - and I perceived Mr. Zachariah Hood, a merchant of the town, returning from - London, hanging over her rail. Mr. Hood was very pale in spite of his - sea-voyage; he flung up his cap at our boat, but Mr. Carvel's salute in - return was colder than he looked for. As we came in view of the dock, a - fine rain was setting in, and to my astonishment I beheld such a mass of - people assembled as I had never seen, and scarce standing-room on the - wharves. We were to have gone to the Governor's wharf in the Severn, but - my grandfather changed his intention at once. Many of the crowd greeted - him as we drew near them, and, having landed, respectfully made room for - him to pass through. I followed him a-tremble with excitement and delight - over such an unwonted experience. We had barely gone ten paces, however, - before Mr. Carvel stopped abreast of Mr. Claude, mine host of the Coffee - House, who cried: - </p> - <p> - “Hast seen his Majesty's newest representative, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Hood is on board the bark, sir,” replied my grandfather. “I take it - you mean Mr. Hood.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that I do; Mr. Zachariah Hood, come to lick stamps for his - brother-colonists.” - </p> - <p> - “After licking his Majesty's boots,” says a wag near by, which brings a - laugh from those about us. I remembered that I had heard some talk as to - how Mr. Hood had sought and obtained from King George the office of Stamp - Distributor for the province. Now, my grandfather, God rest him! was as - doughty an old gentleman as might well be, and would not listen without - protest to remarks which bordered sedition. He had little fear of things - below, and none of a mob. - </p> - <p> - “My masters,” he shouted, with a flourish of his stick, so stoutly that - people fell back from him, “know that ye are met against the law, and - endanger the peace of his Lordship's government.” - </p> - <p> - “Good enough, Mr. Carvel,” said Claude, who seemed to be the spokesman. - “But how if we are stamped against law and his Lordship's government? How - then, sir? Your honour well knows we have naught against either, and are - as peaceful a mob as ever assembled.” - </p> - <p> - This brought on a great laugh, and they shouted from all sides, “How then, - Mr. Carvel?” And my grandfather, perceiving that he would lose dignity by - argument, and having done his duty by a protest, was wisely content with - that. They opened wider the lane for him to pass through, and he made his - way, erect and somewhat defiant, to Mr. Pryse's, the coachmaker opposite, - holding me by the hand. The second storey of Pryse's shop had a little - balcony standing out in front, and here we established ourselves, that we - might watch what was going forward. - </p> - <p> - The crowd below grew strangely silent as the bark came nearer and nearer, - until Mr. Hood showed himself on the poop, when there rose a storm of - hisses, mingled with shouts of derision. “How goes it at St. James, Mr. - Hood?” and “Have you tasted his Majesty's barley?” And some asked him if - he was come as their member of Parliament. Mr. Hood dropped a bow, though - what he said was drowned. The bark came in prettily enough, men in the - crowd even catching her lines and making them fast to the piles. A - gang-plank was thrown over. “Come out, Mr. Hood,” they cried; “we are here - to do you honour, and to welcome you home again.” There were leather - breeches with staves a-plenty around that plank, and faces that meant no - trifling. “McNeir, the rogue,” exclaimed Mr. Carvel, “and that hulk of a - tanner, Brown. And I would know those smith's shoulders in a thousand.” - “Right, sir,” says Pryse, “and 'twill serve them proper. when the King's - troops come among them for quartering.” Pryse being the gentry's patron, - shaped his politics according to the company he was in: he could ill be - expected to seize one of his own ash spokes and join the resistance. Just - then I caught a glimpse of Captain Clapsaddle on the skirts of the crowd, - and with him Mr. Swain and some of the dissenting gentry. And my boyish - wrath burst forth against that man smirking and smiling on the decks of - the bark, so that I shouted shrilly: “Mr. Hood will be cudgelled and - tarred as he deserves,” and shook my little fist at him, so that many - under us laughed and cheered me. Mr. Carvel pushed me back into the window - and out of their sight. - </p> - <p> - The crew of the bark had assembled on the quarterdeck, stout English tars - every man of them, armed with pikes and belaying-pins; and at a word from - the mate they rushed in a body over the plank. Some were thrust off into - the water, but so fierce was their onset that others gained the wharf, - laying sharply about them in all directions, but getting full as many - knocks as they gave. For a space there was a very bedlam of cries and - broken heads, those behind in the mob surging forward to reach the - scrimmage, forcing their own comrades over the edge. McNeir had his thigh - broken by a pike, and was dragged back after the first rush was over; and - the mate of the bark was near to drowning, being rescued, indeed, by - Graham, the tanner. Mr. Hood stood white in the gangway, dodging a missile - now and then, waiting his chance, which never came. For many of the - sailors were captured and carried bodily to the “Rose and Crown” and the - “Three Blue Balls,” where they became properly drunk on Jamaica rum; - others made good their escape on board. And at length the bark cast off - again, amidst jeers and threats, and one-third of her crew missing, and - drifted slowly back to the roads. - </p> - <p> - From the dock, after all was quiet, Mr. Carvel stepped into his barge and - rowed to the Governor's, whose house was prettily situated near Hanover - Street, with ground running down to the Severn. His Excellency appeared - much relieved to see my grandfather; Mr. Daniel Dulany was with him, and - the three gentlemen at once repaired to the Governor's writing-closet for - consultation. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel's town house being closed, we stopped with his Excellency. - There were, indeed, scarce any of the gentry in town at that season save a - few of the Whig persuasion. Excitement ran very high; farmers flocked in - every day from the country round about to take part in the demonstration - against the Act. Mr. Hood's storehouse was burned to the ground. Mr. Hood - getting ashore by stealth, came, however, unmolested to Annapolis and - offered at a low price the goods he had brought out in the bark, thinking - thus to propitiate his enemies. This step but inflamed them the more. - </p> - <p> - My grandfather having much business to look to, I was left to my own - devices, and the devices of an impetuous lad of twelve are not always such - as his elders would choose for him. I was continually burning with a - desire to see what was proceeding in the town, and hearing one day a great - clamour and tolling of bells, I ran out of the Governor's gate and down - Northwest Street to the Circle, where a strange sight met my eyes. A crowd - like that I had seen on the dock had collected there, Mr. Swain and Mr. - Hammond and other barristers holding them in check. Mounted on a one-horse - cart was a stuffed figure of the detested Mr. Hood. Mr. Hammond made a - speech, but for the laughter and cheering I could not catch a word of it. - I pushed through the people, as a boy will, diving between legs to get a - better view, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, bringing me up suddenly. - And I recognized Mr. Matthias Tilghman, and with him was Mr. Samuel Chase. - </p> - <p> - “Does your grandfather know you are here, lad?” said Mr. Tilghman. - </p> - <p> - I paused a moment for breath before I answered: “He attended the rally at - the dock himself, sir, and I believe enjoyed it.” - </p> - <p> - Both gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Chase remarked that if all the other party - were like Mr. Carvel, troubles would soon cease. “I mean not Grafton,” - says he, with a wink at Mr. Tilghman. - </p> - <p> - “I'll warrant, Richard, your uncle would be but ill pleased to see you in - such company.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir,” I replied, for I never feared to speak up, “there are you - wrong. I think it would please my uncle mightily.” - </p> - <p> - “The lad hath indifferent penetration,” said Mr, Tilghman, laughing, and - adding more soberly: “If you never do worse than this, Richard, Maryland - may some day be proud of you.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hammond having finished his speech, a paper was placed in the hand of - the effigy, and the crowd bore it shouting and singing to the hill, where - Mr. John Shaw, the city carpenter, had made a gibbet. There nine and - thirty lashes were bestowed on the unfortunate image, the people crying - out that this was the Mosaic Law. And I cried as loud as any, though I - knew not the meaning of the words. They hung Mr. Hood to the gibbet and - set fire to a tar barrel under him, and so left him. - </p> - <p> - The town wore a holiday look that day, and I was loth to go back to the - Governor's house. Good patriots' shops were closed, their owners parading - as on Sunday in their best, pausing in knots at every corner to discuss - the affair with which the town simmered. I encountered old Farris, the - clockmaker, in his brown coat besprinkled behind with powder from his - queue. “How now, Master Richard?” says he, merrily. “This is no place for - young gentlemen of your persuasion.” - </p> - <p> - Next I came upon young Dr. Courtenay, the wit of the Tuesday Club, of whom - I shall have more to say hereafter. He was taking the air with Mr. James - Fotheringay, Will's eldest brother, but lately back from Oxford and the - Temple. - </p> - <p> - The doctor wore five-pound ruffles and a ten-pound wig, was dressed in - cherry silk, and carried a long, clouded cane. His hat had the latest - cock, for he was our macaroni of Annapolis. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, Richard,” he cries, “you are the only other loyalist I have seen - abroad to-day.” - </p> - <p> - I remember swelling with indignation at the affront. “I call them Tories, - sir,” I flashed back, “and I am none such.” “No Tory!” says he, nudging - Mr. Fotheringay, who was with him; “I had as lief believe your grandfather - hated King George.” I astonished them both by retorting that Mr. Carvel - might think as he pleased, that being every man's right; but that I chose - to be a Whig. “I would tell you as a friend, young man,” replied the - doctor, “that thy politics are not over politic.” And they left me - puzzling, laughing with much relish over some catch in the doctor's words. - As for me, I could perceive no humour in them. - </p> - <p> - It was now near six of the clock, but instead of going direct to the - Governor's I made my way down Church Street toward the water. Near the - dock I saw many people gathered in the street in front of the “Ship” - tavern, a time-honoured resort much patronized by sailors. My curiosity - led me to halt there also. The “Ship” had stood in that place nigh on to - three-score years, it was said. Its latticed windows were swung open, and - from within came snatches of “Tom Bowling,” “Rule Britannia,” and many - songs scarce fit for a child to hear. Now and anon some one in the street - would throw back a taunt to these British sentiments, which went unheeded. - “They be drunk as lords,” said Weld, the butcher's apprentice, “and when - they comes out we'll hev more than one broken head in this street.” The - songs continuing, he cried again, “Come out, d-n ye.” Weld had had more - than his own portion of rum that day. Spying me seated on the gate-post - opposite, he shouted: “So ho, Master Carvel, the streets are not for his - Majesty's supporters to-day.” Other artisans who were there bade him leave - me in peace, saying that my grandfather was a good friend of the people. - The matter might have ended there had I been older and wiser, but the - excitement of the day had gone to my head like wine. “I am as stout a - patriot as you, Weld,” I shouted back, and flushed at the cheering that - followed. And Weld ran up to me, and though I was a good piece of a lad, - swung me lightly onto his shoulder. “Harkee, Master Richard,” he said, “I - can get nothing out of the poltroons by shouting. Do you go in and say - that Weld will fight any mother's son of them single-handed.” - </p> - <p> - “For shame, to send a lad into a tavern,” said old Bobbins, who had known - my grandfather these many years. But the desire for a row was so great - among the rest that they silenced him. Weld set me down, and I, nothing - loth, ran through the open door. - </p> - <p> - I had never before been in the “Ship,” nor, indeed, in any tavern save - that of Master Dingley, near Carvel Hall. The “Ship” was a bare place - enough, with low black beams and sanded floor, and rough tables and chairs - set about. On that September evening it was stifling hot; and the odours - from the men, and the spilled rum and tobacco smoke, well-nigh overpowered - me. The room was filled with a motley gang of sailors, mostly from the - bark Mr. Hood had come on, and some from H.M.S. Hawk, then lying in the - harbour. - </p> - <p> - A strapping man-o'-war's-man sat near the door, his jacket thrown open and - his great chest bared, and when he perceived me he was in the act of - proposing a catch; 'twas “The Great Bell o' Lincoln,” I believe; and he - held a brimming cup of bumbo in his hand. In his surprise he set it - awkwardly down again, thereby spilling full half of it. “Avast,” says he, - with an oath, “what's this come among us?” and he looked me over with a - comical eye. “A d-d provincial,” he went on scornfully, “but a gentleman's - son, or Jack Ball's a liar.” Whereupon his companions rose from their - seats and crowded round me. More than one reeled against me. And though I - was somewhat awed by the strangeness of that dark, ill-smelling room, and - by the rough company in which I found myself, I held my ground, and spoke - up as strongly as I might. - </p> - <p> - “Weld, the butcher's apprentice, bids me say he will fight any man among - you single-handed.” - </p> - <p> - “So ho, my little gamecock, my little schooner with a swivel,” said he who - had called himself Jack Ball, “and where can this valiant butcher be - found?” - </p> - <p> - “He waits in the street,” I answered more boldly. - </p> - <p> - “Split me fore and aft if he waits long,” said Jack, draining the rest of - his rum. And picking me up as easily as did Weld he rushed out of the - door, and after him as many of his mates as could walk or stagger thither. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime the news had got abroad in the street that the butcher's - apprentice was to fight one of the Hawk's men, and when I emerged from the - tavern the crowd had doubled, and people were running hither in all haste - from both directions. But that fight was never to be. Big Jack Ball had - scarce set me down and shouted a loud defiance, shaking his fist at Weld, - who stood out opposite, when a soldierly man on a great horse turned the - corner and wheeled between the combatants. I knew at a glance it was - Captain Clapsaddle, and guiltily wished myself at the Governor's. The - townspeople knew him likewise, and many were slinking away even before he - spoke, as his charger stood pawing the ground. - </p> - <p> - “What's this I hear, you villain,” said he to Weld, in his deep, ringing - voice, “that you have not only provoked a row with one of the King's - sailors, but have dared send a child into that tavern with your fool's - message?” - </p> - <p> - Weld was awkward and sullen enough, and no words came to him. - </p> - <p> - “Your tongue, you sot,” the captain went on, drawing his sword in his - anger, “is it true you have made use of a gentleman's son for your low - purposes?” - </p> - <p> - But Weld was still silent, and not a sound came from either side until old - Robbins spoke up. - </p> - <p> - “There are many here can say I warned him, your honour,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Warned him!” cried the captain. “Mr. Carvel has just given you twenty - pounds for your wife, and you warned him!” - </p> - <p> - Robbins said no more; and the butcher's apprentice, hanging his head, as - well he might before the captain, I was much moved to pity for him, seeing - that my forwardness had in some sense led him on. - </p> - <p> - “Twas in truth my fault, captain,” I cried out. The captain looked at me, - and said nothing. After that the butcher made bold to take up his man's - defence. - </p> - <p> - “Master Carvel was indeed somewhat to blame, sir,” said he, “and Weld is - in liquor.” - </p> - <p> - “And I'll have him to pay for his drunkenness,” said Captain Clapsaddle, - hotly. “Get to your homes,” he cried. “Ye are a lot of idle hounds, who - would make liberty the excuse for riot.” He waved his sword at the pack of - them, and they scattered like sheep until none but Weld was left. “And as - for you, Weld,” he continued, “you'll rue this pretty business, or Daniel - Clapsaddle never punished a cut-throat.” And turning to Jack Ball, he bade - him lift me to the saddle, and so I rode with him to the Governor's - without a word; for I knew better than to talk when he was in that mood. - </p> - <p> - The captain was made to tarry and sup with his Excellency and my - grandfather, and I sat perforce a fourth at the table, scarce daring to - conjecture as to the outcome of my escapade. But as luck would have it, - the Governor had been that day in such worry and perplexity, and my - grandfather also, that my absence had passed unnoticed. Nor did my good - friend the captain utter a word to them of what he knew. But afterwards he - called me to him and set me upon his knee. How big, and kind, and strong - he was, and how I loved his bluff soldier's face and blunt ways. And when - at last he spoke, his words burnt deep in my memory, so that even now I - can repeat them. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” he said, “I perceive you are like your father. I love your - spirit greatly, but you have been overrash to-day. Remember this, lad, - that you are a gentleman, the son of the bravest and truest gentleman I - have ever known, save one; and he is destined to high things.” I know now - that he spoke of Colonel Washington. “And that your mother,” here his - voice trembled,—“your mother was a lady, every inch of her, and too - good for this world. Remember, and seek no company, therefore, beyond that - circle in which you were born. Fear not to be kind and generous, as I know - you ever will be, but choose not intimates from the tavern.” Here the - captain cleared his throat, and seemed to seek for words. “I fear there - are times coming, my lad,” he went on presently, “when every man must - choose his side, and stand arrayed in his own colours. It is not for me to - shape your way of thinking. Decide in your own mind that which is right, - and when you have so decided,”—he drew his sword, as was his habit - when greatly moved, and placed his broad hand upon my head,—“know - then that God is with you, and swerve not from thy course the width of - this blade for any man.” - </p> - <p> - We sat upon a little bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the - wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the - setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have - sometimes since felt in the presence of heroes. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH - </h2> - <p> - Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as ever wore - a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved me as much - by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. The worthy - doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenly at - Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visiting a - poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but three years - of fourscore come Whitsuntide. He was universally loved and respected in - that district where he had lived so long and ably, by rich and poor alike, - and those of many creeds saw him to his last resting-place. Mr. Carroll, - of Carrollton, who was an ardent Catholic, stood bareheaded beside the - grave. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Hilliard was indeed a beacon in a time when his profession among us - was all but darkness, and when many of the scandals of the community might - be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to prevent them. The fault - lay without doubt in his Lordship's charter, which gave to the - parishioners no voice in the choosing of their pastors. This matter was - left to Lord Baltimore's whim. Hence it was that he sent among us so many - fox-hunting and gaming parsons who read the service ill and preached - drowsy and illiterate sermons. Gaming and fox-hunting, did I say? These - are but charitable words to cover the real characters of those impostors - in holy orders, whose doings would often bring the blush of shame to your - cheeks. Nay, I have seen a clergyman drunk in the pulpit, and even in - those freer days their laxity and immorality were such that many flocked - to hear the parsons of the Methodists and Lutherans, whose simple and - eloquent words and simpler lives were worthy of their cloth. Small wonder - was it, when every strolling adventurer and soldier out of employment took - orders and found favour in his Lordship's eyes, and were given the fattest - livings in place of worthier men, that the Established Church fell - somewhat into disrepute. Far be it from me to say that there were not good - men and true in that Church, but the wag who writ this verse, which became - a common saying in Maryland, was not far wrong for the great body of them:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Who is a monster of the first renown? - A lettered sot, a drunkard in a gown.” - </pre> - <p> - My grandfather did not replace Dr. Hilliard at the Hall, afterwards saying - the prayers himself. The doctor had been my tutor, and in spite of my - waywardness and lack of love for the classics had taught me no little - Latin and Greek, and early instilled into my mind those principles - necessary for the soul's salvation. I have often thought with regret on - the pranks I played him. More than once at lesson-time have I gone off - with Hugo and young Harvey for a rabbit hunt, stealing two dogs from the - pack, and thus committing a double offence. You may be sure I was well - thrashed by Mr. Carvel, who thought the more of the latter misdoing, - though obliged to emphasize the former. The doctor would never raise his - hand against me. His study, where I recited my daily tasks, was that small - sunny room on the water side of the east wing; and I well recall him as he - sat behind his desk of a morning after prayers, his horn spectacles - perched on his high nose and his quill over his ear, and his ink-powder - and pewter stand beside him. His face would grow more serious as I scanned - my Virgil in a faltering voice, and as he descanted on a passage my eye - would wander out over the green trees and fields to the glistening water. - What cared I for “Arma virumque” at such a time? I was watching Nebo - a-fishing beyond the point, and as he waded ashore the burden on his - shoulders had a much keener interest for me than that AEneas carried out - of Troy. - </p> - <p> - My Uncle Grafton came to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, choosing this opportunity - to become reconciled to my grandfather, who he feared had not much longer - to live. Albeit Mr. Carvel was as stout and hale as ever. None of the - mourners at the doctor's grave showed more sorrow than did Grafton. A - thousand remembrances of the good old man returned to him, and I heard him - telling Mr. Carroll and some other gentlemen, with much emotion, how he - had loved his reverend preceptor, from whom he had learned nothing but - what was good. “How fortunate are you, Richard,” he once said, “to have - had such a spiritual and intellectual teacher in your youth. Would that - Philip might have learned from such a one. And I trust you can say, my - lad, that you have made the best of your advantages, though I fear you are - of a wild nature, as your father was before you.” And my uncle sighed and - crossed his hands behind his back. “'Tis perhaps better that poor John is - in his grave,” he said. Grafton had a word and a smile for every one about - the old place, but little else, being, as he said, but a younger son and a - poor man. I was near to forgetting the shilling he gave Scipio. 'Twas not - so unostentatiously done but that Mr. Carvel and I marked it. And - afterwards I made Scipio give me the coin, replacing it with another, and - flung it as far into the river as ever I could throw. - </p> - <p> - As was but proper to show his sorrow at the death of the old chaplain he - had loved so much, Grafton came to the Hall drest entirely in black. He - would have had his lady and Philip, a lad near my own age, clad likewise - in sombre colours. But my Aunt Caroline would none of them, holding it to - be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks and laces - went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse, and - Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the family - travelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathed in - flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my aunt descended - like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth, and kissed - me effusively on both cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “And this is dear Richard?” she cried. “Philip, come at once and greet - your cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels,” she continued volubly, - “but more resembles his mother, as I recall her.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, madam,” my grandfather answered somewhat testily, “he has the - Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He has - Elizabeth's eyes.” - </p> - <p> - But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and she had - already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. “The dear old home?” - she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regarding lovingly - each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly when she came to - the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, and the Peter Lely - over the broad fireplace. “What memories they must bring to your mind, my - dear,” she remarks to her husband. “'Tis cruel, as I once said to dear - papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafters we loved so well as - children.” And the good lady brushes away a tear with her embroidered - pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite of us all. But she brightens - instantly and smiles at the line of servants drawn up to welcome them. - “This is Scipio, my son, who was with your grandfather when your father - was born, and before.” Master Philip nods graciously in response to - Scipio's delighted bow. “And Harvey,” my aunt rattles on. “Have you any - new mares to surprise us with this year, Harvey?” Harvey not being as - overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescension as was proper, she turns again - to Mr. Carvel. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the old - house. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure.” And she takes off her - gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here and another - there, and drawing back for the effect. “Such a bachelor's hall as you are - keeping!” - </p> - <p> - “We still have Willis, Caroline,” remonstrates my grandfather, gravely. “I - have no fault to find with her housekeeping.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not, father; men never notice,” Aunt Caroline replies in an - aggrieved tone. And when Willis herself comes in, auguring no good from - this visit, my aunt gives her the tips of her fingers. And I imagine I see - a spark fly between them. - </p> - <p> - As for Grafton, he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones between - his father and himself. Aunt Caroline said with feeling that Dr. - Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought a - long-separated father and son together once more. Grafton had been - misjudged and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrel - had never been of his seeking,—a statement which Mr. Carvel was at - no pains to prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father's - every want. He read his Gazette to him of a Thursday, though the old - gentleman's eyes are as good as ever. If Mr. Carvel walks out of an - evening, Grafton's arm is ever ready, and my uncle and his worthy lady are - eager to take a hand at cards before supper. “Philip, my dear,” says my - aunt, “thy grandfather's slippers,” or, “Philip, my love, thy - grandfather's hat and cane.” But it is plain that Master Philip has not - been brought up to wait on his elders. He is curled with a novel in his - grandfather's easy chair by the window. “There is Dio, mamma, who has - naught to do but serve grandpapa,” says he, and gives a pull at the cord - over his head which rings the bell about the servants' ears in the hall - below. And Dio, the whites of his eyes showing, comes running into the - room. - </p> - <p> - “It is nothing, Diomedes,” says Mr. Carvel. “Master Philip will fetch what - I need.”. Master Philip's papa and mamma stare at each other in a surprise - mingled with no little alarm, Master Philip being to all appearances - intent upon his book. - </p> - <p> - “Philip,” says my grandfather, gently. I had more than once heard him - speak thus, and well knew what was coming. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” replies my cousin, without looking up. “Follow me, sir,” said Mr. - Carvel, in a voice so different that Philip drops his book. They went up - the stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination. - But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel my - grandfather said quietly: “I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline.” And - though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philip - another chance, he would never permit it. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to his - grandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt had - poured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blue and - gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up. - </p> - <p> - “Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerning - Richard's schooling?” - </p> - <p> - “He shall go to King William's school in the autumn,” Mr. Carvel replied. - </p> - <p> - “In the autumn!” cried my uncle. “I do not give Philip even the short - holiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day.” - </p> - <p> - “And can repeat the best passages,” my aunt chimes in. “Philip, my dear, - recite that one your father so delights in.” - </p> - <p> - However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands, - he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enough - several lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parents - greatly and my grandfather not a little. - </p> - <p> - “I will add a crown to your savings, Philip,” says his father. - </p> - <p> - “And here is a pistole to spend as you will,” says Mr. Carvel, tossing him - the piece. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift,” says - Grafton, taking the pistole himself. “I will place this token of your - appreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain in the - family, sir.” And my uncle looks at me significantly. - </p> - <p> - “Let it be as I say, Grafton,” persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to be - balked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to my - father. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his father - to add the first to his saving if he would. - </p> - <p> - “And Richard must have his chance,” says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as she - rises to leave the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard,” says my uncle, smiling. “Let us - hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's.” - </p> - <p> - My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly the - trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal to my - uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which - fitted the present case marvellously well. With little ceremony I tossed - back the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojans - against accepting the Grecian horse: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.” - </pre> - <p> - “Egad,” cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, “the lad bath beaten you on - your own ground, Grafton.” And he laughed as my grandfather only could - laugh, until the dishes rattled on the table. But my uncle thought it no - matter for jesting. - </p> - <p> - Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and could - discuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. He denounced - the seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easy - familiarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and 'twas easy to - perceive whence his knowledge sprang. But when my fine master spoke - disparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, my - grandfather's patience came to an end. - </p> - <p> - “And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England, Philip?” - he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies,” retorts - Master Philip, readily enough. - </p> - <p> - “Not so,” Mr. Carvel said gravely. “She owes her greatness to her - merchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them. And commerce must be - at the backbone of every great nation. Tradesmen!” exclaimed my - grandfather. “Where would any of us be were it not for trade? We sell our - tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return. And your father makes a - deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of his pittance.” - </p> - <p> - My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued: “I - know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to lay aside - the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none.” - </p> - <p> - “And 'twas well I learned then to be careful,” said my uncle, losing for - the instant his control, “for you loved the spend-thrift best, and I - should be but a beggar now without my wisdom.” - </p> - <p> - “I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in him - which you lacked,” answered Mr. Carvel. - </p> - <p> - Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatred was - conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shuddered to think - that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For he detested me - threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father and mother with - the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip's with my - grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelings that he - was smiling again instantly. To see once, however, the white belly of the - shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient. - </p> - <p> - “I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father,” said Grafton. - </p> - <p> - “God knows there was little jest in what I said,” replied Mr. Carvell - soberly, “and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day know you - well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old, that I - am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can become white save - by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip,” the shrewd old - gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, “do not let thy father or any - other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to every question. I - recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue, despite what - he says of your reading the public prints and of forming your own - opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthy men and - true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust method of - taxation.” - </p> - <p> - Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harvey - in particular, who had come from England early in the century with my - grandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle, the - old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. “Beware of - him as has no use for horses, Master Richard,” he would say; for this - trait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. At my - uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster, nor could - he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence. Harvey's face - would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves as he touched his cap. - And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. He vouchsafed but a curt reply - to all her questions, nor did her raptures over the stud soften him in the - least. She would come tripping into the stable yard, daintily holding up - her skirts, and crying, “Oh, Harvey, I have heard so much of Tanglefoot. I - must see him before I go.” Tanglefoot is led out begrudgingly enough, and - Aunt Caroline goes over his points, missing the greater part of them, and - remarking on the depth of chest, which is nothing notable in Tanglefoot. - Harvey winks slyly at me the while, and never so much as offers a word of - correction. “You must take Philip to ride, Richard, my dear,” says my - aunt. “His father was never as fond of it as I could have wished. I hold - that every gentleman should ride to hounds.” - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the house. - </p> - <p> - “Master Philip to hunt, indeed! Foxes to hunt foxes!” And he gives vent to - a dry laugh over his joke, in which I cannot but join. “Horsemen grows. - Eh, Master Richard? There was Captain Jack, who jumped from the cradle - into the saddle, and I never once seen a horse get the better o' him. And - that's God's truth.” And he smooths out Tanglefoot's mane, adding - reflectively, “And you be just like him. But there was scarce a horse in - the stables what wouldn't lay back his ears at Mr. Grafton, and small - blame to 'em, say I. He never dared go near 'em. Oh, Master Philip comes - by it honestly enough. She thinks old Harvey don't know a thoroughbred - when he sees one, sir. But Mrs. Grafton's no thoroughbred; I tell 'ee - that, though I'm saying nothing as to her points, mark ye. I've seen her - sort in the old country, and I've seen 'em here, and it's the same the - world over, in Injy and Chiny, too. Fine trappings don't make the horse, - and they don't take thoroughbreds from a grocer's cart. A Philadelphy - grocer,” sniffs this old aristocrat. “I'd knowed her father was a grocer - had I seen her in Pall Mall with a Royal Highness, by her gait, I may say. - Thy mother was a thoroughbred, Master Richard, and I'll tell 'ee another,” - he goes on with a chuckle, “Mistress Dorothy Manners is such another; you - don't mistake 'em with their high heads and patreeshan ways, though her - father be one of them accidents as will occur in every stock. She's one to - tame, sir, and I don't envy no young gentleman the task. But this I - knows,” says Harvey, not heeding my red cheeks, “that Master Philip, with - all his satin small-clothes, will never do it.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, it was no secret that my Aunt Caroline had been a Miss Flaven, of - Philadelphia, though she would have had the fashion of our province to - believe that she belonged to the Governor's set there; and she spoke in - terms of easy familiarity of the first families of her native city, - deceiving no one save herself, poor lady. How fondly do we believe, with - the ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked under our - wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs. Grafton - Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spices and soap and - glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertised his cargoes in - the public prints. He was a broad and charitable-minded man enough, and - unassuming, but gave way at last to the pressure brought upon him by his - wife and daughter, and bought a mansion in Front Street. Terence Flaven - never could be got to stay there save to sleep, and preferred to spend his - time in his shop, which was grown greatly, chatting with his customers, - and bowing the ladies to their chariots. I need hardly say that this - worthy man was on far better terms than his family with those personages - whose society they strove so hard to attain. - </p> - <p> - At the time of Miss Flaven's marriage to my uncle 'twas a piece of gossip - in every month that he had taken her for her dower, which was not - inconsiderable; though to hear Mr. and Mrs. Grafton talk they knew not - whence the next month's provender was to come. They went to live in Kent - County, as I have said, spending some winters in Philadelphia, where Mr. - Grafton was thought to have interests, though it never could be discovered - what his investments were. On hearing of his marriage, which took place - shortly before my father's, Mr. Carvel expressed neither displeasure nor - surprise. But he would not hear of my mother's request to settle a portion - upon his younger son. - </p> - <p> - “He has the Kent estate, Bess,” said he, “which is by far too good for - him. Never doubt but that the rogue can feather his own nest far better - than can I, as indeed he hath already done. And by the Lord,” cried Mr. - Carvel, bringing his fist down upon the card-table where they sat, “he - shall never get another farthing of my money while I live, nor afterwards, - if I can help it! I would rather give it over to Mr. Carroll to found a - nunnery.” - </p> - <p> - And so that matter ended, for Mr. Carvel could not be moved from a purpose - he had once made. Nor would he make any advances whatsoever to Grafton, or - receive those hints which my uncle was forever dropping, until at length - he begged to be allowed to come to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, a request my - grandfather could not in decency refuse. 'Twas a pathetic letter in truth, - and served its purpose well, though it was not as dust in the old - gentleman's eyes. He called me into his bedroom and told me that my Uncle - Grafton was coming at last. And seeing that I said nothing thereto, he - gave me a queer look and bade me treat them as civilly as I knew how. “I - well know thy temper, Richard,” said he, “and I fear 'twill bring thee - trouble enough in life. Try to control it, my lad; take an old man's - advice and try to control it.” He was in one of his gentler moods, and - passed his arm about me, and together we stood looking silently through - the square panes out into the rain, at the ducks paddling in the puddles - until the darkness hid them. - </p> - <p> - And God knows, lad that I was, I tried to be civil to them. But my tongue - rebelled at the very sight of my uncle ('twas bred into me, I suppose), - and his fairest words seemed to me to contain a hidden sting. Once, when - he spoke in his innuendo of my father, I ran from the room to restrain - some act of violence; I know not what I should have done. And Willis found - me in the deserted, study of the doctor, where my hot tears had stained - the flowered paper on the wall. She did her best to calm me, good soul, - though she had her own troubles with my Lady Caroline to think about at - the time. - </p> - <p> - I had one experience with Master Philip before our visitors betook - themselves back to Kent, which, unfortunate as it was, I cannot but relate - here. My cousin would enter into none of those rough amusements in which I - passed my time, for fear, I took it, of spoiling his fine broadcloths or - of losing a gold buckle. He never could be got to wrestle, though I - challenged him more than once. And he was a well-built lad, and might, - with a little practice, have become skilled in that sport. He laughed at - the homespun I wore about the farm, saying it was no costume for a - gentleman's son, and begged me sneeringly to don leather breeches. He - would have none of the company of those lads with whom I found pleasure, - young Harvey, and Willis's son, who was being trained as Mr. Starkie's - assistant. Nor indeed did I disdain to join in a game with Hugo, who had - been given to me, and other negro lads. Philip saw no sport in a wrestle - or a fight between two of the boys from the quarters, and marvelled that I - could lower myself to bet with Harvey the younger. He took not a spark of - interest in the gaming cocks we raised together to compete at the local - contests and at the fair, and knew not a gaff from a cockspur. Being one - day at my wits' end to amuse my cousin, I proposed to him a game of quoits - on the green beside the spring-house, and thither we repaired, followed by - Hugo, and young Harvey come to look on. Master Philip, not casting as well - as he might, cries out suddenly to Hugo: “Begone, you black dog! What - business have you here watching a game between gentlemen?” - </p> - <p> - “He is my servant, cousin,” I said quietly, “and no dog, if you please. - And he is under my orders, not yours.” - </p> - <p> - But Philip, having scarcely scored a point, was in a rage. “And I'll not - have him here,” he shouted, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent him - stumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently: “Ever - since we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though my - father had no right in my grandfather's house.” - </p> - <p> - Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, and - remark: “'Tis all up with Master Philip now.” But Philip, whatever else he - may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by the time I - had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I, though not - so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and many more; having - lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I was able. To speak - truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeing that I could not - knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and began to study what I - was doing. - </p> - <p> - “Take off your macaroni coat,” said I. “I have no wish to ruin your - clothes.” - </p> - <p> - But he only jeered in return: “Take off thy wool-sack.” And Hugo, getting - to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that he had meant - no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he swore a round oath - at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at my stomach, whereat - Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was more skilful at the science - of boxing than I, though I was the better fighter, having, I am sorry to - say, fought but too often before. And presently, when I had closed one of - his eyes, his skill went all to pieces, and he made a mad rush at me. As - he went by I struck him so hard that he fell heavily and lay motionless. - </p> - <p> - Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent over - my cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and rejoiced to - find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. By then, - Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house, and I saw - my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as her tight stays - would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dear Philip. And - after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with all the servants - who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at the thought that I - should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she knelt over Philip, - pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousin opened one of his - eyes, and raised his hand to his head. - </p> - <p> - “Thank Heaven he is not killed!” exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God, indeed!” echoes my uncle, and gives me a look as much as to - say that I am not to be thanked for it. “I have often warned you, sir,” he - says to Mr. Carvel, “that we do not inherit from stocks and stones. And so - much has come of our charity.” - </p> - <p> - I knew, lad that I was; that he spoke of my mother; and my blood boiled - within me. - </p> - <p> - “Have a care, sir, with your veiled insults,” I cried, “or I will serve - you as I have served your son.” - </p> - <p> - Grafton threw up his hands. - </p> - <p> - “What have we harboured, father?” says he. But Mr. Carvel seized him by - the shoulder. “Peace, Grafton, before the servants,” he said, “and cease - thy crying, Caroline. The lad is not hurt.” And being a tall man, six feet - in his stockings, and strong despite his age, he raised Philip from the - grass, and sternly bade him walk to the house, which he did, leaning on - his mother's arm. “As for you, Richard,” my grandfather went on, “you will - go into my study.” - </p> - <p> - Into his study I went, where presently he came also, and I told him the - affair in as few words as I might. And he, knowing my hatred of falsehood, - questioned me not at all, but paced to and fro, I following him with my - eyes, and truly sorry that I had given him pain. And finally he dismissed - me, bidding me make it up with my cousin, which I was nothing loth to do. - What he said to Philip and his father I know not. That evening we shook - hands, though Philip's face was much swollen, and my uncle smiled, and was - even pleasanter than before, saying that boys would be boys. But I think - my Aunt Caroline could never wholly hide the malice she bore me for what I - had done that day. - </p> - <p> - When at last the visitors were gone, every face on the plantation wore a - brighter look. Harvey said: “God bless their backs, which is the only part - I ever care to see of their honours.” And Willis gave us a supper fit for - a king. Mr. Lloyd and his lady were with us, and Mr. Carvel told his old - stories of the time of the First George, many of which I can even now - repeat: how he and two other collegians fought half a dozen Mohocks in - Norfolk Street, and fairly beat them; and how he discovered by chance a - Jacobite refugee in Greenwich, and what came of it; nor did he forget that - oft-told episode with Dean Swift. And these he rehearsed in such merry - spirit and new guise that we scarce recognized them, and Colonel Lloyd so - choked with laughter that more than once he had to be hit between the - shoulders. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. “IF LADIES BE BUT YOUNG AND FAIR” - </h2> - <p> - No boyhood could have been happier than mine, and throughout it, ever - present with me, were a shadow and a light. The shadow was my Uncle - Grafton. I know not what strange intuition of the child made me think of - him so constantly after that visit he paid us, but often I would wake from - my sleep with his name upon my lips, and a dread at my heart. The light—need - I say?—was Miss Dorothy Manners. Little Miss Dolly was often at the - Hall after that happy week we spent together; and her home, Wilmot House, - was scarce three miles across wood and field by our plantation roads. I - was a stout little fellow enough, and before I was twelve I had learned to - follow to hounds my grandfather's guests on my pony; and Mr. Lloyd and Mr. - Carvel when they shot on the duck points. Ay, and what may surprise you, - my dears, I was given a weak little toddy off the noggin at night, while - the gentlemen stretched their limbs before the fire, or played at whist or - loo Mr. Carvel would have no milksop, so he said. But he early impressed - upon me that moderation was the mark of a true man, even as excess was - that of a weak one. - </p> - <p> - And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House - alone. There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at - games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark - by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom. About once in the week Mr. and Mrs. - Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall. She grew - quickly—so quickly that I scarce realized—into a tall slip of - a girl, who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or - impudent, in a breath. She had as many moods as the sea. I have heard her - entertain Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, by - the hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all the - same. Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho' she gave - me no reason whatever. I believe I had held my hand over fire for her, at - a word. And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me wonder, now, - that I was not killed. It used to please her, Ivie too, to see me go the - round of the windmill, tho' she would cry out after I left the ground. And - once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie not there to - prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown at the bottom with - such force that I lay stunned for a full minute. I opened my eyes to find - her bending over me with such a look of fright and remorse upon her face - as I shall never forget. Again, walking out on the bowsprit of the - 'Oriole' while she stood watching me from the dock, I lost my balance and - fell into the water. On another occasion I fought Will Fotheringay, whose - parents had come for a visit, because he dared say he would marry her. - </p> - <p> - “She is to marry an earl,” I cried, tho' I had thrashed another lad for - saying so. “Mr. Manners is to take her home when she is grown, to marry - her to an earl.” - </p> - <p> - “At least she will not marry you, Master Richard,” sneered Will. And then - I hit him. - </p> - <p> - Indeed, even at that early day the girl's beauty was enough to make her - talked about. And that foolish little fop, her father, had more than once - declared before a company in our dining room that it was high time another - title came into his family, and that he meant to take Dolly abroad when - she was sixteen. Lad that I was, I would mark with pain the blush on Mrs. - Manners's cheek, and clinch my fists as she tried to pass this off as a - joke of her husband's. But Dolly, who sat next me at a side table, would - make a wry little face at my angry one. - </p> - <p> - “You shall call me 'my lady,' Richard. And sometimes, if you are good, you - shall ride inside my coroneted coach when you come home.” - </p> - <p> - Ah, that was the worst of it! The vixen was conscious of her beauty. But - her airs were so natural that young and old bowed before her. Nothing but - worship had she had from the cradle. I would that Mr. Peale had painted - her in her girlhood as a type of our Maryland lady of quality. Harvey was - right when he called her a thoroughbred. Her nose was of patrician - straightness, and the curves of her mouth came from generations of proud - ancestors. And she had blue eyes to conquer and subdue; with long lashes - to hide them under when she chose, and black hair with blue gloss upon it - in the slanting lights. I believe I loved her best in the riding-habit - that was the colour of the red holly in our Maryland woods. At - Christmas-tide, when we came to the eastern shore, we would gallop - together through miles of country, the farmers and servants tipping and - staring after her as she laid her silver-handled whip upon her pony. She - knew not the meaning of fear, and would take a fence or a ditch that a man - might pause at. And so I fell into the habit of leading her the easy way - round, for dread that she would be hurt. - </p> - <p> - How those Christmas times of childhood come sweeping back on my memory! - Often, and without warning, my grandfather would say to me: “Richard, we - shall celebrate at the Hall this year.” And it rarely turned out that - arrangements had not been made with the Lloyds and the Bordleys and the - Manners, and other neighbours, to go to the country for the holidays. I - have no occasion in these pages to mention my intimacy with the sons and - daughters of those good friends of the Carvels', Colonel Lloyd and Mr. - Bordley. Some of them are dead now, and the rest can thank God and look - back upon worthy and useful lives. And if any of these, my old playmates, - could read this manuscript, perchance they might feel a tingle of - recollection of Children's Day, when Maryland was a province. We rarely - had snow; sometimes a crust upon the ground that was melted into paste by - the noonday sun, but more frequently, so it seems to me, a foggy, drizzly - Christmas, with the fires crackling in saloon and lady's chamber. And when - my grandfather and the ladies and gentlemen, his guests, came down the - curving stairs, there were the broadly smiling servants drawn up in the - wide hall,—all who could gather there,—and the rest on the - lawn outside, to wish “Merry Chris'mas” to “de quality.” The redemptioners - in front, headed by Ivie and Jonas Tree, tho' they had long served their - terms, and with them old Harvey and his son; next the house blacks and the - outside liveries, and then the oldest slaves from the quarters. This line - reached the door, which Scipio would throw open at “de quality's” - appearance, disclosing the rest of the field servants, in bright-coloured - gowns, and the little negroes on the green. Then Mr. Carvel would make - them a little speech of thanks and of good-will, and white-haired Johnson - of the senior quarters, who had been with my great-grandfather, would - start the carol in a quaver. How clear and sweet the melody of those negro - voices comes back to me through the generations! And the picture of the - hall, loaded with holly and mistletoe even to the great arch that spanned - it, with the generous bowls of egg-nog and punch on the mahogany by the - wall! And the ladies our guests, in cap and apron, joining in the swelling - hymn; ay, and the men, too. And then, after the breakfast of sweet ham and - venison, and hot bread and sausage, made under Mrs. Willis, and tea and - coffee and chocolate steaming in the silver, and ale for the gentlemen if - they preferred, came the prayers and more carols in the big drawing-room. - And then music in the big house, or perhaps a ride afield to greet the - neighbours, and fiddling and dancing in the two big quarters, Hank's and - Johnson's, when the tables were cleared after the bountiful feast Mr. - Carvel was wont to give them. There was no stint, my dears,—naught - but good cheer and praising God in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall. - </p> - <p> - At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes at - Colonel Lloyd's or Mr. Bordley's, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for my - grandfather dearly loved the company of the young. He himself would lead - off the minuet,—save when once or twice his Excellency Governor - Sharpe chanced to be present,—and would draw his sword with the - young gallants that the ladies might pass under. And I have seen him join - merrily in the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the - company. That was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor. We sat with - the other children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery with - the tiny rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour of the - green myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and perfume of the - dancers. And when the beauty of the evening was led out, Dolly would lean - over the rail, and pout and smile by turns. The mischievous little baggage - could hardly wait for the conquering years to come. - </p> - <p> - They came soon enough, alack! The season Dorothy was fourteen, we had a - ball at the Hall the last day of the year. When she was that age she had - near arrived at her growth, and was full as tall as many young ladies of - twenty. I had cantered with her that morning from Wilmot House to Mr. - Lloyd's, and thence to Carvel Hall, where she was to stay to dinner. The - sun was shining warmly, and after young Harvey had taken our horses we - strayed through the house, where the servants were busy decorating, and - out into my grandfather's old English flower garden, and took the seat by - the sundial. I remember that it gave no shadow. We sat silent for a while, - Dorothy toying with old Knipe, lying at our feet, and humming gayly the - burden of a minuet. She had been flighty on the ride, with scarce a word - to say to me, for the prospect of the dance had gone to her head. - </p> - <p> - “Have you a new suit to wear to-night, to see the New Year in, Master - Sober?” she asked presently, looking up. “I am to wear a brocade that came - out this autumn from London, and papa says I look like a duchess when I - have my grandmother's pearls.” - </p> - <p> - “Always the ball!” cried I, slapping my boots in a temper. “Is it, then, - such a matter of importance? I am sure you have danced before—at my - birthdays in Marlboro' Street and at your own, and Will Fotheringay's, and - I know not how many others.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” replies Dolly, sweetly; “but never with a real man. Boys like - you and Will and the Lloyds do not count. Dr. Courtenay is at Wilmot - House, and is coming to-night; and he has asked me out. Think of it, - Richard! Dr. Courtenay!” - </p> - <p> - “A plague upon him! He is a fop!” - </p> - <p> - “A fop!” exclaimed Dolly, her humour bettering as mine went down. “Oh, no; - you are jealous. He is more sought after than any gentleman at the - assemblies, and Miss Dulany vows his steps are ravishing. There's for you, - my lad! He may not be able to keep pace with you in the chase, but he has - writ the most delicate verses ever printed in Maryland, and no other man - in the colony can turn a compliment with his grace. Shall I tell you more? - He sat with me for over an hour last night, until mamma sent me off to - bed, and was very angry at you because I had engaged to ride with you - to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “And I suppose you wish you had stayed with him,” I flung back, hotly. “He - had spun you a score of fine speeches and a hundred empty compliments by - now.” - </p> - <p> - “He had been better company than you, sir,” she laughed provokingly. “I - never heard you turn a compliment in your life, and you are now seventeen. - What headway do you expect to make at the assemblies?” - </p> - <p> - “None,” I answered, rather sadly than otherwise. For she had touched me - upon a sore spot. “But if I cannot win a woman save by compliments,” I - added, flaring up, “then may I pay a bachelor's tax!” - </p> - <p> - My lady drew her whip across my knee. - </p> - <p> - “You must tell us we are beautiful, Richard,” said she, in another tone. - </p> - <p> - “You have but to look in a pier-glass,” I retorted. “And, besides, that is - not sufficient. You will want some rhyming couplet out of a mythology - before you are content.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed again. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” answered she, “but you have wit, if you can but be got angry.” - </p> - <p> - She leaned over the dial's face, and began to draw the Latin numerals with - her finger. So arch, withal, that I forgot my ill-humour. - </p> - <p> - “If you would but agree to stay angry for a day,” she went on, in a low - tone, “perhaps—” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you would be better company,” said Dorothy. “You would surely be - more entertaining.” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, I love you,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure. I know that,” she replied. “I think you have said that - before.” - </p> - <p> - I admitted it sadly. “But I should be a better husband than Dr. - Courtenay.” - </p> - <p> - “La!” cried she; “I am not thinking of husbands. I shall have a good time, - sir, I promise you, before I marry. And then I should never marry you. You - are much too rough, and too masterful. And you would require obedience. I - shall never obey any man. You would be too strict a master, sir. I can see - it with your dogs and your servants. And your friends, too. For you thrash - any boy who does not agree with you. I want no rough squire for a husband. - And then, you are a Whig. I could never marry a Whig. You behaved - disgracefully at King William's School last year. Don't deny it!” - </p> - <p> - “Deny it!” I cried warmly; “I would as soon deny that you are an arrant - flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I shall have my fling,” said the minx. “I shall begin to-night, with - you for an audience. I shall make the doctor look to himself. But there is - the dressing-bell.” And as we went into the house, “I believe my mother is - a Whig, Richard. All the Brices are.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet you are a Tory?” - </p> - <p> - “I am a loyalist,” says my lady, tossing her head proudly; “and we are one - day to kiss her Majesty's hand, and tell her so. And if I were the Queen,” - she finished in a flash, “I would teach you surly gentlemen not to - meddle.” - </p> - <p> - And she swept up the stairs so stately, that Scipio was moved to say - slyly: “Dem's de kind of ladies, Marse Richard, I jes dotes t' wait on!” - </p> - <p> - Of the affair at King William's School I shall tell later. - </p> - <p> - We had some dozen guests staying at the Hall for the ball. At dinner my - grandfather and the gentlemen twitted her, and laughed heartily at her apt - retorts, and even toasted her when she was gone. The ladies shook their - heads and nudged one another, and no doubt each of the mothers had her - notion of what she would do in Mrs. Manners's place. But when my lady came - down dressed for the ball in her pink brocade with the pearls around her - neck, fresh from the hands of Nester and those of her own tremulous mammy, - Mr. Carvel must needs go up to her and hold her at arm's length in - admiration, and then kiss her on both her cheeks. Whereat she blushed - right prettily. - </p> - <p> - “Bless me!” says he; “and can this be Richard's little playmate grown? - Upon my word, Miss Dolly, you'll be the belle of the ball. Eh, Lloyd? - Bless me, bless me, you must not mind a kiss from an old man. The young - ones may have their turn after a while.” He laughed as my grandfather only - could laugh, and turned to me, who had reddened to my forehead. “And so, - Richard, she has outstripped you, fair and square. You are only an awkward - lad, and she—why, i' faith, in two years she'll be beyond my - protection. Come, Miss Dolly,” says he; “I'll show you the mistletoe, that - you may beware of it.” - </p> - <p> - And he led her off on his arm. “The old year and the new, gentlemen!” he - cried merrily, as he passed the door, with Dolly's mammy and Nester - simpering with pride on the landing. - </p> - <p> - The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that they - were to stay the night. Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a pillion - behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress. Mr. Bordley - and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in coach and - four. With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured coat and - waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, and - pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes. How I envied him as he descended - the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with the - indifferent ease that was then the fashion. I fancied I saw his eyes - wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I - stood disconsolate before the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard, my lad,” says he, “you are quite grown since I saw you. And - the little girl that was your playmate,—Miss Dolly, I mean,—has - outstripped me, egad. She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like a - rose that blooms in a night.” - </p> - <p> - I answered nothing at all. But I had given much to know whether my stolid - manner disconcerted him. Unconsciously I sought the bluff face above the - chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King Charles's - day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side. Dr. Courtenay - certainly caught the look. He opened his snuff-box, took a pinch, turned - on his heel, and sauntered off. - </p> - <p> - “What did you say, Richard?” asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing, - for he had seen the incident. - </p> - <p> - “I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, 'twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I think,” - answered my friend. But he teased me a deal that night when Dolly danced - with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my honours. My young - lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a minuet as well as any - dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at the thought of the prize - slipping from my grasp. Now and then, in the midst of a figure, she would - shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say that her pinions were strong - now. But when it came to the country dances my lady comes up to me ever so - prettily and asks the favour. - </p> - <p> - “Tis a monstrous state, indeed, when I have to beg you for a reel!” says - she. - </p> - <p> - And so was I made happy. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. I FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE - </h2> - <p> - In the eighteenth century the march of public events was much more eagerly - followed than now by men and women of all stations, and even children. - Each citizen was ready, nay, forward, in taking an active part in all - political movements, and the children mimicked their elders. Old William - Farris read his news of a morning before he began the mending of his - watches, and by evening had so well digested them that he was primed for - discussion with Pryse, of the opposite persuasion, at the Rose and Crown. - Sol Mogg, the sexton of St. Anne's, had his beloved Gazette in his pocket - as he tolled the church bell of a Thursday, and would hold forth on the - rights and liberties of man with the carpenter who mended the steeple. - Mrs. Willard could talk of Grenville and Townshend as knowingly as her - husband, the rich factor, and Francie Willard made many a speech to us - younger Sons of Liberty on the steps of King William's School. We younger - sons, indeed, declared bitter war against the mother-country long before - our conservative old province ever dreamed of secession. For Maryland was - well pleased with his Lordship's government. - </p> - <p> - I fear that I got at King William's School learning of a far different - sort than pleased my grandfather. In those days the school stood upon the - Stadt House hill near School Street, not having moved to its present - larger quarters. Mr. Isaac Daaken was then Master, and had under him some - eighty scholars. After all these years, Mr. Daaken stands before me a - prominent figure of the past in an ill-fitting suit of snuff colour. How - well I recall that schoolroom of a bright morning, the sun's rays shot - hither and thither, and split violet, green, and red by the bulging glass - panes of the windows. And by a strange irony it so chanced that where the - dominie sat—and he moved not the whole morning long save to reach - for his birches—the crimson ray would often rest on the end of his - long nose, and the word “rum” be passed tittering along the benches. For - some men are born to the mill, and others to the mitre, and still others - to the sceptre; but Mr. Daaken was born to the birch. His long, lanky legs - were made for striding after culprits, and his arms for caning them. He - taught, among other things, the classics, of course, the English language - grammatically, arithmetic in all its branches, book-keeping in the Italian - manner, and the elements of algebra, geometry, and trigonometry with their - applications to surveying and navigation. He also wrote various sorts of - hands, fearful and marvellous to the uninitiated, with which he was wont - to decorate my monthly reports to my grandfather. I can shut my eyes and - see now that wonderful hyperbola in the C in Carvel, which, after - travelling around the paper, ended in intricate curves and a flourish - which surely must have broken the quill. - </p> - <p> - The last day of every month would I fetch that scrolled note to Mr. - Carvel, and he laid it beside his plate until dinner was over. And then, - as sure as the sun rose that morning, my flogging would come before it - set. This done with, and another promised next month provided Mr. Daaken - wrote no better of me, my grandfather and I renewed our customary footing - of love and companionship. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Daaken, unwittingly or designedly, taught other things than those - I have mentioned above. And though I never once heard a word of politics - fall from his lips, his school shortly became known to all good Tories as - a nursery of conspiracy and sedition. There are other ways of teaching - besides preaching, and of that which the dominie taught best he spoke not - a word. He was credited, you may well believe, with calumnies against King - George, and once my Uncle Grafton and Mr. Dulany were for clapping him in - jail, avowing that he taught treason to the young. I can account for the - tone of King William's School in no other way than to say that patriotism - was in the very atmosphere, and seemed to exude in some mysterious way - from Mr. Daaken's person. And most of us became infected with it. - </p> - <p> - The dominie lived outside the town, in a lonely little hamlet on the - borders of the Spa. At two of the clock every afternoon he would dive - through School Street to the Coffee House, where the hostler would have - his bony mare saddled and waiting. Mr. Daaken by no chance ever entered - the tavern. I recall one bright day in April when I played truant and had - the temerity to go afishing on Spa Creek with Will Fotheringay, the bass - being plentiful there. We had royal sport of it that morning, and two - o'clock came and went with never a thought, you may be sure. And presently - I get a pull which bends my English rod near to double, and in my - excitement plunge waist deep into the water, Will crying out directions - from the shore, when suddenly the head of Mr. Daaken's mare is thrust - through the bushes, followed by Mr. Daaken himself. Will stood stock still - from fright, and I was for dropping my rod and cutting, when I was - arrested by the dominie calling out: - </p> - <p> - “Have a care, Master Carvel; have a care, sir. You will lose him. Play - him, sir; let him run a bit.” - </p> - <p> - And down he leaps from his horse and into the water after me, and together - we landed a three-pound bass, thereby drenching his snuff-coloured suit. - When the big fish lay shining in the basket, the dominie smiled grimly at - William and me as we stood sheepishly by, and without a word he drew his - clasp knife and cut a stout switch from the willow near, and then and - there he gave us such a thrashing as we remembered for many a day after. - And we both had another when we reached home. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel,” said Mr. Dulany to my grandfather, “I would strongly counsel - you to take Richard from that school. Pernicious doctrines, sir, are in - the air, and like diseases are early caught by the young. 'Twas but - yesterday I saw Richard at the head of a rabble of the sons of riff-raff, - in Green Street, and their treatment of Mr. Fairbrother hath set the whole - town by the ears.” - </p> - <p> - What Mr. Dulany had said was true. The lads of Mr. Fairbrother's school - being mostly of the unpopular party, we of King William's had organized - our cohorts and led them on to a signal victory. We fell upon the enemy - even as they were emerging from their stronghold, the schoolhouse, and - smote them hip and thigh, with the sheriff of Anne Arundel County a - laughing spectator. Some of the Tories (for such we were pleased to call - them) took refuge behind Mr. Fairbrother's skirts, who shook his cane - angrily enough, but without avail. Others of the Tory brood fought - stoutly, calling out: “God save the King!” and “Down with the traitors!” - On our side Francie Willard fell, and Archie Dennison raised a lump on my - head the size of a goose egg. But we fairly beat them, and afterwards must - needs attack the Tory dominie himself. He cried out lustily to the sheriff - and spectators, of whom there were many by this time, for help, but got - little but laughter for his effort. Young Lloyd and I, being large lads - for our age, fairly pinioned the screeching master, who cried out that he - was being murdered, and keeping his cane for a trophy, thrust him bodily - into his house of learning, turned the great key upon him, and so left - him. He made his escape by a window and sought my grandfather in the Duke - of Marlboro' Street as fast as ever his indignant legs would carry him. - </p> - <p> - Of his interview with Mr. Carvel I know nothing save that Scipio was - requested presently to show him the door, and conclude therefrom that his - language was but ill-chosen. Scipio's patrician blood was wont to rise in - the presence of those whom he deemed outside the pale of good society, and - I fear he ushered Mr. Fairbrother to the street with little of that - superior manner he used to the first families. As for Mr. Daaken, I feel - sure he was not ill-pleased at the discomfiture of his rival, though it - cost him five of his scholars. - </p> - <p> - Our schoolboy battle, though lightly undertaken, was fraught with no - inconsiderable consequences for me. I was duly chided and soundly whipped - by my grandfather for the part I had played; but he was inclined to pass - the matter after that, and set it down to the desire for fighting common - to most boyish natures. And he would have gone no farther than this had it - not been that Mr. Green, of the Maryland Gazette, could not refrain from - printing the story in his paper. That gentleman, being a stout Whig, took - great delight in pointing out that a grandson of Mr. Carvel was a - ringleader in the affair. The story was indeed laughable enough, and many - a barrister's wig nodded over it at the Coffee House that day. When I came - home from school I found Scipio beside my grandfather's empty seat in the - dining-room, and I learned that Mr. Carvel was in the garden with my Uncle - Grafton and the Reverend Bennett Allen, rector of St. Anne's. I well knew - that something out of the common was in the wind to disturb my - grandfather's dinner. Into the garden I went, and under the black walnut - tree I beheld Mr. Carvel pacing up and down in great unrest, his Gazette - in his hand, while on the bench sat my uncle and the rector of St. Anne's. - So occupied was each in his own thought that my coming was unperceived; - and I paused in my steps, seized suddenly by an instinctive dread, I know - not of what. The fear of Mr. Carvel's displeasure passed from my mind so - that I cared not how soundly he thrashed me, and my heart filled with a - yearning, born of the instant, for that simple and brave old gentleman. - For the lad is nearer to nature than the man, and the animal oft scents a - danger the master cannot see. I read plainly in Mr. Allen's handsome face, - flushed red with wine as it ever was, and in my Uncle Grafton's looks a - snare to which I knew my grandfather was blind. I never rightly understood - how it was that Mr. Carvel was deceived in Mr. Allen; perchance the secret - lay in his bold manner and in the appearance of dignity and piety he wore - as a cloak when on his guard. I caught my breath sharply and took my way - toward them, resolved to make as brave a front as I might. It was my - uncle, whose ear was ever open, that first heard my footstep and turned - upon me. - </p> - <p> - “Here is Richard, now, father,” he said. - </p> - <p> - I gave him so square a look that he bent his head to the ground. My - grandfather stopped in his pacing and his eye rested upon me, in sorrow - rather than in anger, I thought. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” he began, and paused. For the first time in my life I saw him - irresolute. He looked appealingly at the rector, who rose. Mr. Allen was a - man of good height and broad shoulders, with piercing black eyes, - reminding one more of the smallsword than aught else I can think of. And - he spoke solemnly, in a deep voice, as though from the pulpit. - </p> - <p> - “I fear it is my duty, Richard, to say what Mr. Carvel cannot. It grieves - me to tell you, sir, that young as you are you have been guilty of treason - against the King, and of grave offence against his Lordship's government. - I cannot mitigate my words, sir. By your rashness, Richard, and I pray it - is such, you have brought grief to your grandfather in his age, and - ridicule and reproach upon a family whose loyalty has hitherto been - unstained.” - </p> - <p> - I scarce waited for him to finish. His pompous words stung me like the - lash of a whip, and I gave no heed to his cloth as I answered: - </p> - <p> - “If I have grieved my grandfather, sir, I am heartily sorry, and will - answer to him for what I have done. And I would have you know, Mr. Allen, - that I am as able as any to care for the Carvel honour.” - </p> - <p> - I spoke with a vehemence, for the thought carried me beyond myself, that - this upstart parson his Lordship had but a year since sent among us should - question our family reputation. - </p> - <p> - “Remember that Mr. Allen is of the Church, Richard,” said my grandfather, - severely. - </p> - <p> - “I fear he has little respect for Church or State, sir,” Grafton put in. - “You are now reaping the fruits of your indulgence.” - </p> - <p> - I turned to my grandfather. - </p> - <p> - “You are my protector, sir,” I cried. “And if it please you to tell me - what I now stand accused of, I submit most dutifully to your - chastisement.” - </p> - <p> - “Very fair words, indeed, nephew Richard,” said my uncle, “and I draw from - them that you have yet to hear of your beating an honest schoolmaster - without other provocation than that he was a loyal servant to the King, - and wantonly injuring the children of his school.” He drew from his pocket - a copy of that Gazette Mr. Carvel held in his hand, and added ironically: - “Here, then, are news which will doubtless surprise you, sir. And knowing - you for a peaceful lad, never having entertained such heresies as those - with which it pleases Mr. Green to credit you, I dare swear he has drawn - on his imagination.” - </p> - <p> - I took the paper in amaze, not knowing why my grandfather, who had ever - been so jealous of others taking me to task, should permit the rector and - my uncle to chide me in his presence. The account was in the main true - enough, and made sad sport of Mr. Fairbrother. - </p> - <p> - “Have I not been caned for this, sir?” said I to my grandfather. - </p> - <p> - These words seemed to touch Mr. Carvel, and I saw a tear glisten in his - eye as he answered: - </p> - <p> - “You have, Richard, and stoutly. But your uncle and Mr. Allen seem to - think that your offence warrants more than a caning, and to deem that you - have been actuated by bad principles rather than by boyish spirits.” He - paused to steady his voice, and I realized then for the first time how - sacred he held allegiance to the King. “Tell me, my lad,” said he, “tell - me, as you love God and the truth, whether they are right.” - </p> - <p> - For the moment I shrank from speaking, perceiving what a sad blow to Mr. - Carvel my words must be. And then I spoke up boldly, catching the exulting - sneer on my Uncle Grafton's face and the note of triumph reflected in Mr. - Allen's. - </p> - <p> - “I have never deceived you, sir,” I said, “and will not now hide from you - that I believe the colonies to have a just cause against his Majesty and - Parliament.” The words came ready to my lips: “We are none the less - Englishmen because we claim the rights of Englishmen, and, saving your - presence, sir, are as loyal as those who do not. And if these principles - be bad,” I added to my uncle, “then should we think with shame upon the - Magna Charta.” - </p> - <p> - My grandfather stood astonished at such a speech from me, whom he had - thought a lad yet without a formed knowledge of public affairs. But I was, - in fact, supersaturated with that of which I spoke, and could have given - my hearers many able Whig arguments to surprise them had the season - befitted. There was silence for a space after I had finished, and then Mr. - Carvel sank right heavily upon the bench. - </p> - <p> - “A Carvel against the King!” was all he said. - </p> - <p> - Had I been alone with him I should have cast myself at his feet, for it - hurt me sorely to see him so. As it was, I held my head high. - </p> - <p> - “The Carvels ever did what they believed right, sir,” I answered. “You - would not have me to go against my conscience?” - </p> - <p> - To this he replied nothing. - </p> - <p> - “The evil has been done, as I feared, father,” said Grafton, presently; - “we must now seek for the remedy.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me question the lad,” Mr. Allen softly interposed. “Tell me, Richard, - who has influenced you to this way of thinking?” - </p> - <p> - I saw his ruse, and was not to be duped by it. - </p> - <p> - “Men who have not feared to act bravely against oppression, sir,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God,” exclaimed my uncle, with fervour, “that I have been more - careful of Philip's associations, and that he has not caught in the - streets and taverns this noxious creed!” - </p> - <p> - “There is no danger from Philip; he remembers his family name,” said the - rector. - </p> - <p> - “No,” quoth Mr. Carvel, bitterly, “there is no danger from Philip. Like - his father, he will ever believe that which best serves him.” - </p> - <p> - Grafton, needless to say, did not pursue such an argument, but rising, - remarked that this deplorable affair had kept him long past his dinner - hour, and that his services were as ever at his father's disposal. He - refused to stay, though my grandfather pressed him of course, and with a - low bow of filial respect and duty and a single glance at the rector, my - uncle was gone. And then we walked slowly to the house and into the dining - room, Mr. Carvel leading the procession, and I an unwilling rear, knowing - that my fate would be decided between them. I thought Mr. Allen's grace - would never end, and the meal likewise; I ate but little, while the two - gentlemen discussed parish matters. And when at last Scipio had retired, - and the rector of St. Anne's sat sipping the old Madeira, his countenance - all gravity, but with a relish he could not hide, my grandfather spoke up. - And though he addressed himself to the guest, I knew full well what he - said was meant for me. - </p> - <p> - “As you see, sir,” said he, “I am sore perplexed and troubled. We Carvels, - Mr. Allen, have ever been stanch to Church and King. My great-grandsire - fought at Naseby and Marston Moor for Charles, and suffered exile in his - name. 'Twas love for King James that sent my father hither, though he - swore allegiance to Anne and the First George. I can say with pride that - he was no indifferent servant to either, refusing honours from the - Pretender in '15, when he chanced to be at home. An oath is an oath, sir, - and we have yet to be false to ours. And the King, say I, should, next to - God, be loved and loyally served by his subjects. And so I have served - this George, and his grandfather before him, according to the talents - which were given me.” - </p> - <p> - “And ably, sir, permit me to say,” echoed the rector, heartily. Too - heartily, methought. And he carefully filled his pipe with choice leaf out - of Mr. Carvel's inlaid box. - </p> - <p> - “Be that as it may, I have done my best, as we must all do. Pardon me, - sir, for speaking of myself. But I have brought up this lad from a child, - Mr. Allen,” said Mr. Carvel, his words coming slowly, as if each gave him - pain, “and have striven to be an example to him in all things. He has few - of those faults which I most fear; God be thanked that he loves the truth, - for there is yet a chance of his correction. A chance, said I?” he cried, - his speech coming more rapid, “nay, he shall be cured! I little thought, - fool that I was, that he would get this pox. His father fought and died - for the King; and should trouble come, which God forbid, to know that - Richard stood against his Majesty would kill me.” - </p> - <p> - “And well it might, Mr. Carvel,” said the divine. He was for the moment - sobered, as weak men must be in the presence of those of strong - convictions. My grandfather had half risen in his chair, and the lines of - his smooth-shaven face deepened visibly with the pain of the feelings to - which he gave utterance. As for me, I was well-nigh swept away by a - bigness within me, and torn between love and duty, between pity and the - reason left me, and sadly tried to know whether my dear parent's life and - happiness should be weighed against what I felt to be right. I strove to - speak, but could say nothing. - </p> - <p> - “He must be removed from the influences,” the rector ventured, after a - halt. - </p> - <p> - “That he must indeed,” said my grandfather. “Why did I not send him to - Eton last fall? But it is hard, Mr. Allen, to part with the child of our - old age. I would take passage and go myself with him to-morrow were it not - for my duties in the Council.” - </p> - <p> - “Eton! I would have sooner, I believe, wrought by the side of any rascally - redemptioner in the iron mines of the Patapsco than have gone to Eton. - </p> - <p> - “But for the present, sir, I would counsel you to put the lad's studies in - the charge of some able and learned man, that his mind may be turned from - the disease which has fed upon it. Some one whose loyalty is beyond - question.” - </p> - <p> - “And who so fit as yourself, Mr. Allen?” returned my grandfather, relief - plain in his voice. “You have his Lordship's friendship and confidence, - and never has rector of St. Anne's or of any other parish brought letters - to his Excellency to compare with yours. And so I crave your help in this - time of need.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Allen showed becoming hesitation. - </p> - <p> - “I fear you do me greater honour than I deserve, Mr. Carvel,” he answered, - a strain of the pomp coming back, “though my gracious patron is disposed - to think well of me, and I shall strive to hold his good opinion. But I - have duties of parish and glebe to attend, and Master Philip Carvel - likewise in my charge.” - </p> - <p> - I held my breath for my grandfather's reply. The rector, however, had read - him, and well knew that a show of reluctance would but inflame him the - more. - </p> - <p> - “How now, sir?” he exclaimed. “Surely, as you love the King, you will not - refuse me in this strait.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Allen rose and grasped him by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir,” said he, “and you put it thus, I cannot refuse you.” - </p> - <p> - The thought of it was too much. I ran to my grandfather crying: “Not Mr. - Allen, sir, not Mr. Allen. Any one else you please,—Mr. Fairbrother - even.” - </p> - <p> - The rector drew back haughtily. “It is clear, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “that - Richard has other preferences.” - </p> - <p> - “And be damned to them!” shouted my grandfather. “Am I to be ruled by this - headstrong boy? He has beat Mr. Fairbrother, and shall have no - skimmed-milk supervision if I can help it.” - </p> - <p> - And so it was settled that I should be tutored by the rector of St. - Anne's, and I took my seat beside my cousin Philip in his study the very - next day. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE - </h2> - <p> - To add to my troubles my grandfather was shortly taken very ill with the - first severe sickness he had ever in his life endured. Dr. Leiden came and - went sometimes thrice daily, and for a week he bore a look so grave as to - frighten me. Dr. Evarts arrived by horse from Philadelphia, and the two - physicians held long conversations in the morning room, while I listened - at the door and comprehended not a word of their talk save when they spoke - of bleeding. And after a very few consultations, as is often the way in - their profession, they disagreed and quarrelled, and Dr. Evarts packed - himself back to Philadelphia in high dudgeon. Then Mr. Carvel began to - mend. - </p> - <p> - There were many who came regularly to inquire of him, and each afternoon I - would see the broad shoulders and genial face of Governor Sharpe in the - gateway, completing his walk by way of Marlboro' Street. I loved and - admired him, for he had been a soldier himself before he came out to us, - and had known and esteemed my father. His Excellency should surely have - been knighted for his services in the French war. Once he spied me at the - window and shook his cane pleasantly, and in he walks to the room where I - sat reading of the victories of Blenheim and Malplaquet, for chronicles of - this sort I delighted in. - </p> - <p> - “Aha, Richard,” says he, taking up the book, “'tis plain whither your - tastes lead you. Marlboro was a great general, and as sorry a scoundrel as - ever led troops to battle. Truly,” says he, musing, “the Lord often makes - queer choice in his instruments for good.” And he lowered himself into the - easy chair and crossed his legs, regarding me very comically. “What's this - I hear of your joining the burghers and barristers, and trouncing poor Mr. - Fairbrother and his flock, and crying 'Liberty forever!' in the very ears - of the law?” he asks. “His Majesty will have need of such lads as you, I - make no doubt, and should such proceedings come to his ears I would not - give a pipe for your chances.” - </p> - <p> - I could not but laugh, confused as I was, at his Excellency's rally. And - this I may say, that had it pleased Providence to give me dealing with - such men of the King's side as he, perchance my fortunes had been altered. - </p> - <p> - “And in any good cause, sir,” I replied, “I would willingly give my life - to his Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “So,” said his Excellency, raising his eyebrows, “I see clearly you are of - the rascals. But a lad must have his fancies, and when your age I was hot - for the exiled Prince. I acquired more sense as I grew older. And better - an active mind, say I, than a sluggard partisan.” - </p> - <p> - At this stage of our talk came in my Uncle Grafton, and bowing low to the - Governor made apology that some of the elders of the family had not been - there to entertain him. He told his Excellency that he had never left the - house save for necessary business, which was true for once, my uncle - having taken up his abode with us during that week. But now, thanking - Heaven and Dr. Leiden and his own poor effort, he could report his dear - father to be out of danger. - </p> - <p> - Governor Sharpe answered shortly that he had been happy to hear the good - news from Scipio. “Faith,” says he, “I was well enough entertained, for I - have a liking for this lad, and to speak truth I saw him here as I came up - the walk.” - </p> - <p> - My uncle smiled deprecatingly, and hid any vexation he might have had from - this remark. - </p> - <p> - “I fear that Richard lacks wisdom as yet, your Excellency,” said he, “and - has many of his father's headstrong qualities.” - </p> - <p> - “Which you most providentially escaped,” his Excellency put in. - </p> - <p> - Grafton bit his lip. “Necessity makes us all careful, sir,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Necessity does more than that, Mr. Carvel,” returned the Governor, who - was something of a wit; “necessity often makes us fools, if we be not - careful. But give me ever a wanton fool rather than him of necessity's - handiwork. And as for the lad,” says he, “let him not trouble you. Such as - he, if twisted a little in the growth, come out straight enough in the - end.” - </p> - <p> - I think the Governor little knew what wormwood was this to my uncle. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis heartily to be hoped, sir,” he said, “for his folly has brought - trouble enough behind it to those who have his education and his welfare - in hand, and I make no doubt is at the bottom of my father's illness.” - </p> - <p> - At this injustice I could not but cry out, for all the town knew, and my - grandfather himself best of all, that the trouble from which he now - suffered sprang from his gout. And yet my heart was smitten at the thought - that I might have hastened or aggravated the attack. The Governor rose. He - seized his stick aggressively and looked sharply at Grafton. - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense,” he exclaimed; “my friend Mr. Carvel is far too wise to be - upset by a boyish prank which deserves no notice save a caning. And that, - my lad,” he added lightly, “I dare swear you got with interest.” And he - called for a glass of the old Madeira when Scipio came with the tray, and - departed with a polite inquiry after my Aunt Caroline's health, and a - prophecy that Mr. Carvel would soon be taking the air again. - </p> - <p> - There had been high doings indeed in Marlboro' Street that miserable week. - My grandfather took to his bed of a Saturday afternoon, and bade me go - down to Mr. Aikman's, the bookseller, and fetch him the latest books and - plays. That night I became so alarmed that I sent Diomedes for Dr. Leiden, - who remained the night through. Sunday was well gone before the news - reached York Street, when my Aunt Caroline came hurrying over in her - chair, and my uncle on foot. They brushed past Scipio at the door, and - were pushing up the long flight when they were stopped on the landing by - Dr. Leiden. - </p> - <p> - “How is my father, sir?” Grafton cried, “and why was I not informed at - once of his illness? I must see him.” - </p> - <p> - “Your vater can see no one, Mr. Carvel,” said the doctor, quietly. - </p> - <p> - “What,” says my uncle, “you dare to refuse me?” - </p> - <p> - “Not so lout, I bray you,” says the doctor; “I tare any ting vere life is - concerned.” - </p> - <p> - “But I will see him,” says Grafton, in a sort of helpless rage, for the - doctor's manner baffled him. “I will see him before he dies, and no man - alive shall say me nay.” - </p> - <p> - Then my Aunt Caroline gathered up her skirt, and made shift to pass the - doctor. - </p> - <p> - “I have come to nurse him,” said she, imperiously, and, turning to where I - stood near, she added: “Bid a servant fetch from York Street what I shall - have need of.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor smiled, but stood firm. He cared little for aught in heaven or - earth, did Dr. Leiden, and nothing whatever for Mr. and Mrs. Grafton - Carvel. - </p> - <p> - “I peg you, matam, do not disturp yourself,” said he. “Mr. Carvel is aply - attended by an excellent voman, Mrs. Villis, and he has no neet of you.” - </p> - <p> - “What,” cried my aunt; “this is too much, sir, that I am thrust out of my - father-in-law's house, and my place taken by a menial. That woman able!” - she fumed, dropping suddenly her cloak of dignity; “Mr. Carvel's charity - is all that keeps her here.” - </p> - <p> - Then my uncle drew himself up. “Dr. Leiden,” says he, “kindly oblige me by - leaving my father's house, and consider your services here at an end. And - Richard,” he goes on to me, “send my compliments to Dr. Drake, and request - him to come at once.” - </p> - <p> - I was stepping forward to say that I would do nothing of the kind, when - the doctor stopped me by a signal, as much as to say that the quarrel was - wide enough without me. He stood with his back against the great arched - window flooded with the yellow light of the setting sun, a little black - figure in high relief, with a face of parchment. And he took a pinch of - snuff before he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I am here py Mr. Carvel's orters, sir,” said he, “and py tose alone vill - I leaf.” - </p> - <p> - And this is how the Chippendale piece was broke, which you, my children, - and especially Bess, admire so extravagantly. It stood that day behind the - doctor, and my uncle, making a violent move to get by, struck it, and so - it fell with a great crash lengthwise on the landing; and the wonderful - vases Mr. Carroll had given my grandfather rolled down the stairs and lay - crushed at the bottom. Withal he had spoken so quietly, Dr. Leiden - possessed a temper drawn from his Teutonic ancestors. With his little face - all puckered, he swore so roundly at my uncle in some lingo he had got - from his father,—High German or Low German,—I know not what, - that Grafton and his wife were glad enough to pick their way amongst the - broken bits of glass and china, to the hall again. Dr. Leiden shook his - fist at their retreating persons, saying that the Sabbath was no day to do - murder. - </p> - <p> - I followed them with the pretence of picking up what was left of the - ornaments. What between anger against the doctor and Mrs. Willis, and - fright and chagrin at the fall of the Chippendale piece, my aunt was in - such a state of nervous flurry that she bade the ashy Scipio call her - chairmen, and vowed, in a trembling voice, she would never again enter a - house where that low-bred German was to be found. But my Uncle Grafton was - of a different nature. He deemed defeat but a postponement of the object - he wished to gain, and settled himself in the library with a copy of - “Miller on the Distinction of Ranks in Society.” He appeared at supper - suave as ever, gravely concerned as to his father's health, which formed - the chief topic between us. He gave me to understand that he would take - the green room until the old gentleman was past danger. Not a word, mind - you, of Dr. Leiden, nor did my uncle express a wish to go into the - sick-room, from which even I was forbid. Nay, the next morning he met the - doctor in the hall and conversed with him at some length over the case as - though nothing had occurred between them. - </p> - <p> - While my Uncle Grafton was in the house I had opportunity of marking the - intimacy which existed between him and the rector of St. Anne's. The - latter swung each evening the muffled knocker, and was ushered on tiptoe - across the polished floor to the library where my uncle sat in state. It - was often after supper before the rector left, and coming in upon them - once I found wine between them and empty decanters on the board, and they - fell silent as I passed the doorway. - </p> - <p> - Our dear friend Captain Clapsaddle was away when my grandfather fell sick, - having been North for three months or more on some business known to few. - 'Twas generally supposed he went to Massachusetts to confer with the - patriots of that colony. Hearing the news as he rode into town, he came - booted and spurred to Marlboro' Street before going to his lodgings. I ran - out to meet him, and he threw his arms about me on the street so that - those who were passing smiled, for all knew the captain. And Harvey, who - always came to take the captain's horse, swore that he was glad to see a - friend of the family once again. I told the captain very freely of my - doings, and showed him the clipping from the Gazette, which made him laugh - heartily. But a shade came upon his face when I rehearsed the scene we had - with my uncle and Mr. Allen in the garden. - </p> - <p> - “What,” says he, “Mr. Carvel hath sent you to Mr. Allen on your uncle's - advice?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” I answered, “to do my uncle justice, he said not a word to Mr. - Carvel about it.” - </p> - <p> - The captain turned the subject. He asked me much concerning the rector and - what he taught me, and appeared but ill-pleased at that I had to tell him. - But he left me without so much as a word of comment or counsel. For it was - a principle with Captain Clapsaddle not to influence in any way the minds - of the young, and he would have deemed it unfair to Mr. Carvel had he - attempted to win my sympathies to his. Captain Daniel was the first the - old gentleman asked to see when visitors were permitted him, and you may - be sure the faithful soldier was below stairs waiting for the summons. - </p> - <p> - I was some three weeks with my new tutor, the rector, before my - grandfather's illness, and went back again as soon as he began to mend. I - was not altogether unhappy, owing to a certain grim pleasure I had in - debating with him, which I shall presently relate. There was much to annoy - and anger me, too. My cousin Philip was forever carping and criticising my - Greek and Latin, and it was impossible not to feel his sneer at my back - when I construed. He had pat replies ready to correct me when called upon, - and 'twas only out of consideration for Mr. Carvel that I kept my hands - from him when we were dismissed. - </p> - <p> - I think the rector disliked Philip in his way as much as did I in mine. - The Reverend Bennett Allen, indeed, might have been a very good fellow had - Providence placed him in a different setting; he was one of those whom his - Excellency dubbed “fools from necessity.” He should have been born with a - fortune, though I can think of none he would not have run through in a - year or so. But nature had given him aristocratic tastes, with no other - means toward their gratification than good looks, convincing ways, and a - certain bold, half-defiant manner, which went far with his Lordship and - those like him, who thought Mr. Allen excellent good company. With the - rector, as with too many others, holy orders were but a means to an end. - It was a sealed story what he had been before he came to Governor Sharpe - with Baltimore's directions to give him the best in the colony. But our - rakes and wits, and even our solid men, like my grandfather, received him - with open arms. He had ever a tale on his tongue's end tempered to the ear - of his listener. - </p> - <p> - Who had most influenced my way of thinking, Mr. Allen had well demanded. - The gentleman was none other than Mr. Henry Swain, Patty's father. Of her - I shall speak later. He was a rising barrister and man of note among our - patriots, and member of the Lower House; a diffident man in public, with - dark, soulful eyes, and a wide, white brow, who had declined a nomination - to the Congress of '65. At his fireside, unknown to my grandfather and to - Mr. Allen, I had learned the true principles of government. Before the - House Mr. Swain spoke only under extraordinary emotion, and then he gained - every ear. He had been my friend since childhood, but I never knew the - meaning and the fire of oratory until curiosity brought me to the gallery - of the Assembly chamber in the Stadt House, where the barrister was on his - feet at the time. I well remember the tingle in my chest as I looked and - listened. And I went again and again, until the House sat behind closed - doors. - </p> - <p> - And so, when Mr. Allen brought forth for my benefit those arguments of the - King's party which were deemed their strength, I would confront him with - Mr. Swain's logic. He had in me a tough subject for conversion. I was put - to very small pains to rout my instructor out of all his positions, - because indolence, and lack of interest in the question, and contempt for - the Americans, had made him neglect the study of it. And Philip, who - entered at first glibly enough at the rector's side, was soon drawn into - depths far beyond him. Many a time was Mr. Allen fain to laugh at his - blunders. I doubt not my cousin had the facts straight enough when he rose - from the breakfast table at home; but by the time he reached the rectory - they were shaken up like so many parts of a puzzle in a bag, and past all - straightening. - </p> - <p> - The rector was especially bitter toward the good people of Boston Town, - whom he dubbed Puritan fanatics. To him Mr. Otis was but a meddling fool, - and Mr. Adams a traitor whose head only remained on his shoulders by grace - of the extreme clemency of his Majesty, which Mr. Allen was at a loss to - understand. When beaten in argument, he would laugh out some sneer that - would set my blood simmering. One morning he came in late for the lesson, - smelling strongly of wine, and bade us bring our books out under the fruit - trees in the garden. He threw back his gown and tilted his cap, and - lighting his pipe began to speak of that act of Townshend's, passed but - the year before, which afterwards proved the King's folly and England's - ruin. - </p> - <p> - “Principle!” exclaimed my fine clergyman at length, blowing a great whiff - among the white blossoms. “Oons! your Americans worship his Majesty - stamped upon a golden coin. And though he saved their tills from plunder - from the French, the miserly rogues are loth to pay for the service.” - </p> - <p> - I rose, and taking a guinea-piece from my pocket, held it up before him. - </p> - <p> - “They care this much for gold, sir, and less for his Majesty, who cares - nothing for them,” I said. And walking to the well near by, I dropped the - piece carelessly into the clear water. He was beside me before it left my - hand, and Philip also, in time to see the yellow coin edging this way and - that toward the bottom. The rector turned to me with a smile of cynical - amusement playing over his features. - </p> - <p> - “Such a spirit has brought more than one brave fellow to Tyburn, Master - Carvel,” he said. And then he added reflectively, “But if there were more - like you, we might well have cause for alarm.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 2. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. OVER THE WALL - </h2> - <p> - Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted power - at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to town Dr. - Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies, a request - which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had given his - consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for the days when - she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor contrived to - see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was forever at her - house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen of fashion like the - doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but in reality to see Miss - Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be lingering in the drawing-room - in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in the garden as Dr. Courtenay - passed, and I got but scant attention indeed. I was but an awkward lad, - and an old playmate, with no novelty about me. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard,” she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or sat - at dinner in Prince George Street, “I know every twist and turn of your - nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir, you are - very tiresome.” - </p> - <p> - “You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I - walked the Oriole's bowsprit,” I replied ruefully. - </p> - <p> - “Why don't you make me jealous?” says she, stamping her foot. “A score of - pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,—Jennie and Bess - Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They are - actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said I, 'if you - will but rid me of him for a day, you shall have my lasting gratitude.'” - </p> - <p> - And she turned to the spinet and began a lively air. But the taunt struck - deeper than she had any notion of. That spring arrived out from London on - the Belle of the Wye a box of fine clothes my grandfather had commanded - for me from his own tailor; and a word from a maid of fifteen did more to - make me wear them than any amount of coaxing from Mr. Allen and my Uncle - Grafton. My uncle seemed in particular anxious that I should make a good - appearance, and reminded me that I should dress as became the heir of the - Carvel house. I took counsel with Patty Swain, and then went to see Betty - Tayloe, and the Fotheringay girls, and the Dulany girls, near the - Governor's. And (fie upon me!) I was not ill-pleased with the brave - appearance I made. I would show my mistress how little I cared. But the - worst of it was, the baggage seemed to trouble less than I, and had the - effrontery to tell me how happy she was I had come out of my shell, and - broken loose from her apron-strings. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, they would soon begin to think I meant to marry you, Richard,” - says she at supper one Sunday before a tableful, and laughed with the - rest. - </p> - <p> - “They do not credit you with such good sense, my dear,” says her mother, - smiling kindly at me. - </p> - <p> - And Dolly bit her lip, and did not join in that part of the merriment. - </p> - <p> - I fled to Patty Swain for counsel, nor was it the first time in my life I - had done so. Some good women seem to have been put into this selfish world - to comfort and advise. After Prince George Street with its gilt and - marbles and stately hedged gardens, the low-beamed, vine-covered house in - the Duke of Gloucester Street was a home and a rest. In my eyes there was - not its equal in Annapolis for beauty within and without. Mr. Swain had - bought the dwelling from an aged man with a history, dead some nine years - back. Its furniture, for the most part, was of the Restoration, of simple - and massive oak blackened by age, which I ever fancied better than the - Frenchy baubles of tables and chairs with spindle legs, and cabinets of - glass and gold lacquer which were then making their way into the fine - mansions of our town. The house was full of twists and turns, and steps up - and down, and nooks and passages and queer hiding-places which we children - knew, and in parts queer leaded windows of bulging glass set high in the - wall, and older than the reign of Hanover. Here was the shrine of - cleanliness, whose high-priestess was Patty herself. Her floors were like - satin-wood, and her brasses lights in themselves. She had come honestly - enough by her gifts, her father having married the daughter of an able - townsman of Salem, in the Massachusetts colony, when he had gone north - after his first great success in court. Now the poor lady sat in a padded - armchair from morning to night, beside the hearth in winter, and under the - trees in summer, by reason of a fall she had had. There she knitted all - the day long. Her placid face and quiet way come before me as I write. - </p> - <p> - My friendship with Patty had begun early. One autumn day when I was a - little lad of eight or nine, my grandfather and I were driving back from - Whitehall in the big coach, when we spied a little maid of six by the - Severn's bank, with her apron full of chestnuts. She was trudging bravely - through the dead leaves toward the town. Mr. Carvel pulled the cord to - stop, and asked her name. “Patty Swain, and it please your honour,” the - child answered, without fear. “So you are the young barrister's daughter?” - says he, smiling at something I did not understand. She nodded. “And how - is it you are so far from home, and alone, my little one?” asked Mr. - Carvel again. For some time he could get nothing out of her; but at length - she explained, with much coaxing, that her big brother Tom had deserted - her. My grandfather wished that Tom were his brother, that he might be - punished as he deserved. He commanded young Harvey to lift the child into - the coach, chestnuts and all, and there she sat primly between us. She was - not as pretty as Dorothy, so I thought, but her clear gray eyes and simple - ways impressed me by their very honesty, as they did Mr. Carvel. What must - he do but drive her home to Green Street, where Mr. Swain then lived in a - little cottage. Mr. Carvel himself lifted her out and kissed her, and - handed her to her mother at the gate, who was vastly overcome by the - circumstance. The good lady had not then received that fall which made her - a cripple for life. “And will you not have my chestnuts, sir, for your - kindness?” says little Patty. Whereat my grandfather laughed and kissed - her again, for he loved children, and wished to know if she would not be - his daughter, and come to live in Marlboro' Street; and told the story of - Tom, for fear she would not. He was silent as we drove away, and I knew he - was thinking of my own mother at that age. - </p> - <p> - Not long after this Mr. Swain bought the house in the Duke of Gloucester - Street. This, as you know, is back to back with Marlboro. To reach Patty's - garden I had but to climb the brick wall at the rear of our grounds, and - to make my way along the narrow green lane left there for perhaps a - hundred paces of a lad, to come to the gate in the wooden paling. In - return I used to hoist Patty over the wall, and we would play at - children's games under the fruit trees that skirted it. Some instinct kept - her away from the house. I often caught her gazing wistfully at its wings - and gables. She was not born to a mansion, so she said. - </p> - <p> - “But your father is now rich,” I objected. I had heard Captain Daniel say - so. “He may have a mansion of his own and he chooses. He can better afford - it than many who are in debt for the fine show they make.” I was but - repeating gossip. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to see the grand company come in, when your grandfather has - them to dine,” said the girl. “Sometimes we have grand gentlemen come to - see father in their coaches, but they talk of nothing but politics. We - never have any fine ladies like—like your Aunt Caroline.” - </p> - <p> - I startled her by laughing derisively. - </p> - <p> - “And I pray you never may, Patty,” was all I said. - </p> - <p> - I never told Dolly of my intimacy with the barrister's little girl over - the wall. This was not because I was ashamed of the friendship, but arose - from a fear-well-founded enough—that she would make sport of it. At - twelve Dolly had notions concerning the walks of life that most other - children never dream of. They were derived, of course, from Mr. Marmaduke. - But the day of reckoning arrived. Patty and I were romping beside the back - wall when suddenly a stiff little figure in a starched frock appeared - through the trees in the direction of the house, followed by Master Will - Fotheringay in his visiting clothes. I laugh now when I think of that - formal meeting between the two little ladies. There was no time to hoist - Miss Swain over the wall, or to drive Miss Manners back upon the house. - Patty stood blushing as though caught in a guilty act, while she of the - Generations came proudly on, Will sniggering behind her. - </p> - <p> - “Who is this, Richard?” asks Miss Manners, pointing a small forefinger. - </p> - <p> - “Patty Swain, if you must know!” I cried, and added boylike: “And she is - just as good as you or me, and better.” I was quite red in the face, and - angry because of it. “This is Dorothy Manners, Patty, and Will - Fotheringay.” - </p> - <p> - The moment was a pregnant one. But I was resolved to carry the matter out - with a bold front. “Will you join us at catch and swing?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - Will promptly declared that he would join, for Patty was good to look - upon. Dolly glanced at her dress, tossed her head, and marched back alone. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Richard!” cried Patty; “I shall never forgive myself! I have made you - quarrel with—” - </p> - <p> - “His sweetheart,” said Will, wickedly. - </p> - <p> - “I don't care,” said I. Which was not so. - </p> - <p> - Patty felt no resentment for my miss's haughty conduct, but only a tearful - penitence for having been the cause of a strife between us. Will's - arguments and mine availed nothing. I must lift her over the wall again, - and she went home. When we reached the garden we found Dolly seated beside - her mother on my grandfather's bench, from which stronghold our combined - tactics were powerless to drag her. - </p> - <p> - When Dolly was gone, I asked my grandfather in great indignation why Patty - did not play with the children I knew, with Dorothy and the Fotheringays. - He shook his head dubiously. “When you are older, Richard, you will - understand that our social ranks are cropped close. Mr. Swain is an honest - and an able man, though he believes in things I do not. I hear he is - becoming wealthy. And I have no doubt,” the shrewd old gentleman added, - “that when Patty grows up she will be going to the assemblies, though it - was not so in my time.” So liberal was he that he used to laugh at my - lifting her across the wall, and in his leisure delight to listen to my - accounts of her childish housekeeping. Her life was indeed a contrast to - Dorothy's. She had all the solid qualities that my lady lacked in early - years. And yet I never wavered in my liking to the more brilliant and - wayward of the two. The week before my next birthday, when Mr. Carvel drew - me to him and asked me what I wished for a present that year, as was his - custom, I said promptly: - </p> - <p> - “I should like to have Patty Swain at my party, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “So you shall, my lad,” he cried, taking his snuff and eying me with - pleasure. “I am glad to see, Richard, that you have none of Mr. - Marmaduke's nonsense about you. She is a good girl, i' faith, and more of - a lady now than many who call themselves such. And you shall have your - present to boot. Hark'ee, Daniel,” said he to the captain; “if the child - comes to my house, the poll-parrots and follow-me-ups will be wanting her, - too.” - </p> - <p> - But the getting her to go was a matter of five days. For Patty was - sensitive, like her father, and dreaded a slight. Not so with Master Tom, - who must, needs be invited, too. He arrived half an hour ahead of time, - arrayed like Solomon, and without his sister! I had to go for Patty, - indeed, after the party had begun, and to get the key to the wicket in the - wall to take her in that way, so shy was she. My dear grandfather showed - her particular attention. And Miss Dolly herself, being in the humour, - taught her a minuet. - </p> - <p> - After that she came to all my birthdays, and lost some of her shyness. And - was invited to other great houses, even as Mr. Carvel had predicted. But - her chief pleasure seemed ever her duty. Whether or no such characters - make them one and the same, who can tell? She became the light of her - father's house, and used even to copy out his briefs, at which task I - often found her of an evening. - </p> - <p> - As for Tom, that graceless scamp, I never could stomach him. I wondered - then, as I have since, how he was the brother of such a sister. He could - scarce bide his time until Mr. Swain should have a coach and a seat in the - country with the gentry. “A barrister,” quoth he, “is as good as any one - else. And if my father came out a redemptioner, and worked his way, so had - old Mr. Dulany. Our family at home was the equal of his.” All of which was - true, and more. He would deride Patty for sewing and baking, vowing that - they had servants enough now to do the work twice over. She bore with him - with a patience to be marvelled at; and I could never get it through my - head why Mr. Swain indulged him, though he was the elder, and his mother's - favourite. Tom began to dress early. His open admiration was Dr. - Courtenay, his confessed hope to wear five-pound ruffles and gold sword - knots. He clung to Will Fotheringay with a tenacity that became proverbial - among us boys, and his boasts at King William's School were his father's - growing wealth and intimacy with the great men of the province. - </p> - <p> - As I grew older, I took the cue of political knowledge, as I have said, - from Mr. Swain rather than Captain Daniel, who would tell me nothing. I - fell into the habit of taking supper in Gloucester Street. The meal was - early there. And when the dishes were cleared away, and the barrister's - pipe lit, and Patty and her mother had got their sewing, he would talk by - the hour on the legality of our resistance to the King, and discuss the - march of affairs in England and the other colonies. He found me a ready - listener, and took pains to teach me clearly the right and wrong of the - situation. 'Twas his religion, even as loyalty to the King was my - grandfather's, and he did not think it wrong to spread it. He likewise - instilled into me in that way more of history than Mr. Allen had ever - taught me, using it to throw light upon this point or that. But I never - knew his true power and eloquence until I followed him to the Stadt House. - </p> - <p> - Patty was grown a girl of fifteen then, glowing with health, and had ample - good looks of her own. 'Tis odd enough that I did not fall in love with - her when Dolly began to use me so outrageously. But a lad of eighteen is - scarce a rational creature. I went and sat before my oracle upon the - vine-covered porch under the eaves, and poured out my complaint. She laid - down her needlework and laughed. - </p> - <p> - “You silly boy,” said she, “can't you see that she herself has prescribed - for you? She was right when she told you to show attention to Jenny. And - if you dangle about Miss Dolly now, you are in danger of losing her. She - knows it better than you.” - </p> - <p> - I had Jenny to ride the very next day. Result: my lady smiled on me more - sweetly than ever when I went to Prince George Street, and vowed Jenny had - never looked prettier than when she went past the house. This left my - victory in such considerable doubt that I climbed the back wall forthwith - in my new top-boots. - </p> - <p> - “So you looked for her to be angry?” said Patty. - </p> - <p> - “Most certainly,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Unreasoning vanity!” she cried, for she knew how to speak plain. “By your - confession to me you have done this to please her, for she warned you at - the beginning it would please her. And now you complain of it. I believe I - know your Dorothy better than you.” - </p> - <p> - And so I got but little comfort out of Patty that time. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. UNDER FALSE COLOURS - </h2> - <p> - And now I come to a circumstance in my life I would rather pass over - quickly. Had I steered the straight course of my impulse I need never have - deceived that dear gentleman whom I loved and honoured above any in this - world, and with whom I had always lived and dealt openly. After my - grandfather was pronounced to be mending, I went back to Mr. Allen until - such time as we should be able to go to the country. Philip no longer - shared my studies, his hours having been changed from morning to - afternoon. I thought nothing of this, being content with the rector's - explanation that my uncle had a task for Philip in the morning, now that - Mr. Carvel was better. And I was well content to be rid of Philip's - company. But as the days passed I began to mark an absence still stranger. - I had my Horace and my Ovid still: but the two hours from eleven to one, - which he was wont to give up to history and what he was pleased to call - instruction in loyalty, were filled with other matter. Not a word now of - politics from Mr. Allen. Not even a comment from him concerning the - spirited doings of our Assembly, with which the town was ringing. That - body had met but a while before, primed to act on the circular drawn up by - Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. The Governor's message had not been so prompt - as to forestall them, and I am occupied scarce the time in the writing of - this that it took our brave members to adopt the petition to his Majesty - and to pass resolutions of support to our sister colony of the North. This - being done, and a most tart reply penned to his Excellency, they ended - that sitting and passed in procession to the Governor's mansion to deliver - it, Mr. Speaker Lloyd at their head, and a vast concourse of cheering - people at their heels. Shutters were barred on the Tory houses we passed. - And though Mr. Allen spied me in the crowd, he never mentioned the - circumstance. More than once I essayed to draw from him an opinion of Mr. - Adams's petition, which was deemed a work of great moderation and merit, - and got nothing but evasion from my tutor. That he had become suddenly an - American in principle I could not believe. At length I made bold to ask - him why our discussions were now omitted. He looked up from the new play - he was reading on the study lounge, with a glance of dark meaning I could - not fathom. - </p> - <p> - “You are learning more than I can teach you in Gloucester Street, and at - the Stadt House,” he said. - </p> - <p> - In truth I was at a loss to understand his attitude until the day in June - my grandfather and I went to Carvel Hall. - </p> - <p> - The old gentleman was weak still, so feeble that he had to be carried to - his barge in a chair, a vehicle he had ever held in scorn. But he was - cheerful, and his spirit remained the same as of old: but for that spirit - I believe he had never again risen from his bed in Marlboro' Street. My - uncle and the rector were among those who walked by his side to the dock, - and would have gone to the Hall with him had he permitted them. He was - kind enough to say that my arm was sufficient to lean on. - </p> - <p> - What peace there was sitting once again under the rustling trees on the - lawn with the green river and the blue bay spread out before us, and - Scipio standing by with my grandfather's punch. Mr. Carvel would have me - rehearse again all that had passed in town and colony since his illness, - which I did with as much moderation as I was able. And as we talked he - reached out and took my hand, for I sat near him, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I have heard tidings of you that gladden my heart, and they have - done more than Dr. Leiden's physic for this old frame of mine. I well knew - a Carvel could never go a wrong course, lad, and you least of any.” - </p> - <p> - “Tidings, sir?” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, tidings,” answered Mr. Carvel. Such a note of relief and gladness - there was in the words as I had not heard for months from him, and a vague - fear came upon me. - </p> - <p> - “Scipio,” he said merrily, “a punch for Mr. Richard.” And when the glass - was brought my grandfather added: “May it be ever thus!” - </p> - <p> - I drained the toast, not falling into his humour or comprehending his - reference, but dreading that aught I might say would disturb him, held my - peace. And yet my apprehension increased. He set down his glass and - continued: - </p> - <p> - “I had no hope of this yet, Richard, for you were ever slow to change. - Your conversion does credit to Mr. Allen as well as to you. In short, sir, - the rector gives me an excellent good account of your studies, and adds - that the King hath gained another loyal servant, for which I thank God.” - </p> - <p> - I have no words to write of my feelings then. My head swam and my hand - trembled on my grandfather's, and I saw dimly the old gentleman's face - aglow with joy and pride, and knew not what to say or do. The answer I - framed, alas, remained unspoken. From his own lips I had heard how much - the news had mended him, and for once I lacked the heart, nay, the - courage, to speak the truth. But Mr. Carvel took no heed of my silence, - setting it down to another cause. - </p> - <p> - “And so, my son,” he said, “there is no need of sending you to Eton next - fall. I am not much longer for this earth, and can ill spare you: and Mr. - Allen kindly consents to prepare you for Oxford.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Allen consents to that, sir?” I gasped. I think, could I have laid - hands on the rector then, I would have thrashed him, cloth and all, within - an inch of his life. - </p> - <p> - And as if to crown my misery Mr. Carvel rose, and bearing heavily on my - shoulder led me to the stable where Harvey and one of the black grooms - stood in livery to receive us. Harvey held by the bridle a blooded bay - hunter, and her like could scarce be found in the colony. As she stood - arching her neck and pawing the ground, I all confusion and shame, my - grandfather said simply: - </p> - <p> - “Richard, this is Firefly. I have got her for you from Mr. Randolph, of - Virginia, for you are now old enough to have a good mount of your own.” - </p> - <p> - All that night I lay awake, trying to sift some motive for Mr. Allen's - deceit. For the life of me I could see no farther than a desire to keep me - as his pupil, since he was well paid for his tuition. Still, the game did - not seem worth the candle. However, he was safe in his lie. Shrewd rogue - that he was, he well knew that I would not risk the attack a - disappointment might bring my grandfather. - </p> - <p> - What troubled me most of all was the fear that Grafton had reaped the - advantage of the opportunity the illness gave him, and by his insidious - arts had worked himself back into the good graces of his father. You must - not draw from this, my dears, that I feared for the inheritance. Praised - be God, I never thought of that! But I came by nature to hate and to fear - my uncle, as I hated and feared the devil. I saw him with my father's - eyes, and with my mother's, and as my grandfather had seen him in the old - days when he was strong. Instinct and reason alike made me loathe him. As - the months passed, and letters in Grafton's scroll hand came from the Kent - estate or from Annapolis, my misgivings were confirmed by odd remarks that - dropped from Mr. Carvel's lips. At length arrived the revelation itself. - </p> - <p> - “I fear, Richard,” he had said querulously, “I fear that all these years I - have done your uncle an injustice. Dear Elizabeth was wont to plead for - him before she died, but I would never listen to her. I was hearty and - strong then, and my heart was hard. And a remembrance of many things was - fresh in my mind.” He paused for breath, as was his habit now. And I said - nothing. “But Grafton has striven to wipe out the past. Sickness teaches - us that we must condone, and not condemn. He has lived a reputable life, - and made the most of the little start I gave him. He has supported his - Majesty and my Lord in most trying times. And his Excellency tells me that - the coming governor, Eden, will surely reward him with a seat in the - Council.” - </p> - <p> - I thought of Governor Sharpe's biting words to Grafton. The Governor knew - my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council. - </p> - <p> - “A son is a son, Richard,” continued Mr. Carvel. “You will one day find - that out. Your uncle has atoned. He hath been faithful during my illness, - despite my cold treatment. And he hath convinced me that your welfare is - at his heart. I believe he is fond of you, my lad.” - </p> - <p> - No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel - should become blind to Grafton's hypocrisy; forget his attempts to prevent - my father's marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother's birth. The agony - it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception, I shall not - dwell upon. And the thought bursting within me remained unspoken. - </p> - <p> - I saw less of Dorothy then than I had in any summer of my life before. In - spite of Mrs. Manners, the chrysalis had burst into the butterfly, and - Wilmot House had never been so gay. It must be remembered that there were - times when young ladies made their entrance into the world at sixteen, and - for a beauty to be unmarried at twenty-two was rare indeed. When I went to - Wilmot House to dine, the table would be always full, and Mr. Marmaduke - simpering at the head of it, his air of importance doubled by his - reflected glory. - </p> - <p> - “We see nothing of you, my lad,” he would say; “you must not let these - young gallants get ahead of you. How does your grandfather? I must pay my - compliments to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - Of gallants there were enough, to be sure. Dr. Courtenay, of course, with - a nosegay on his coat, striving to catch the beauty's eye. And Mr. - Worthington and Mr. Dulany, and Mr. Fitzhugh and Mr. Paca, and I know not - how many other young bachelors of birth and means. And Will Fotheringay, - who spent some of his time with me at the Hall. Silver and China, with the - Manners coat-of-arms, were laid out that had not seen the light for many - along day. And there were picnics, and sailing parties, and dances galore, - some of which I attended, but heard of more. It seemed to me that my lady - was tiring of the doctor's compliments, and had transferred her fickle - favour to young Mr. Fitzhugh, who was much more worthy, by the way. As for - me, I had troubles enough then, and had become used in some sort to being - shelved. - </p> - <p> - One night in July,—'twas the very day Mr. Carvel had spoken to me of - Grafton,—I had ridden over to Wilmot House to supper. I had little - heart for going, but good Mrs. Manners herself had made me promise, and I - could: not break my word. I must have sat very silent and preoccupied at - the table, where all was wit and merriment. And more than once I saw the - laughter leave Dorothy's face, and caught her eyes upon; me with such a - look as set my beast throbbing. They would not meet my own, but would turn - away instantly. I was heavy indeed that night, and did not follow the - company into the ballroom, but made my excuses to Mrs. Manners. - </p> - <p> - The lawn lay bathed in moonlight; and as I picked, my way over it toward - the stables for Firefly, I paused to look back at the house aglow, with - light, the music of the fiddles and the sound of laughter floating out of - the open windows. Even as I gaped a white figure was framed in the - doorway, paused a moment on the low stone step, and then came on until it - stood beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Are you not well, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am well,” I answered. I scarcely knew my own voice. - </p> - <p> - “Is your grandfather worse?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Dorothy; he seems better to-day.” - </p> - <p> - She stood seemingly irresolute, her eyes new lifted, now falling before - mine. Her slender arms bare, save for the little puff at the shoulders; - her simple dress drawn a little above the waist, then falling straight to - the white slipper. How real the ecstasy of that moment, and the pain of - it! - </p> - <p> - “Why do you not coarse over, as you used to?” she asked, in a low tone. - </p> - <p> - “I am very busy,” I replied evasively; “Mr. Carvel cannot attend to his - affairs.” I longed to tell her the whole truth, but the words would not - come. - </p> - <p> - “I hear you are managing the estate all alone,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “There is no one else to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” she cried, drawing closer; “you are in trouble. I—I have - seen it. You are so silent, and—and you seem to have become older. - Tell me, is it your Uncle Grafton?” - </p> - <p> - So astonished was I at the question, and because she had divined so, - surely, that I did not answer. - </p> - <p> - “Is it?” she asked again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I said; “yes, in part.” - </p> - <p> - And then came voices calling from the house. They had missed her. - </p> - <p> - “I am so sorry, Richard. I shall tell no one.” - </p> - <p> - She laid her hand ever so lightly upon mine and was gone. I stood staring - after her until she disappeared in the door. All the way home I marvelled, - my thoughts tumultuous, my hopes rising and falling. - </p> - <p> - But when next I saw her, I thought she had forgotten. - </p> - <p> - We had little company at the Hall that year, on account of Mr. Carvel. And - I had been busy indeed. I sought with all my might to master a business - for which I had but little taste, and my grandfather complimented me, - before the season was done, upon my management. I was wont to ride that - summer at four of a morning to canter beside Mr. Starkie afield, and I - came to know the yield of every patch to a hogshead and the pound price to - a farthing. I grew to understand as well as another the methods of curing - the leaf. And the wheat pest appearing that year, I had the good fortune - to discover some of the clusters in the sheaves, and ground our - oyster-shells in time to save the crop. Many a long evening I spent on the - wharves with old Stanwix, now toothless and living on his pension, with my - eye on the glow of his pipe and my ear bent to his stories of the sea. It - was his fancy that the gift of prophecy had come to him with the years; - and at times, when his look would wander to the black rigging in the - twilight, he would speak strangely enough. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Mr. Richard,” he would say; “tho' your father was a soldier afore - ye, ye were born to the deck of a ship-o'-war. Mark an old man's words, - sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Can you see the frigate, Stanwix?” I laughed once, when he had repeated - this with more than common solemnity. - </p> - <p> - His reply rose above the singing of the locusts. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir, that I can. But she's no frigate, sir. Devil knows what she is. - She looks like a big merchantman to me, such as I've seed in the Injy - trade, with a high poop in the old style. And her piercin's be not like a - frigate.” He said this with a readiness to startle me, and little enough - superstition I had. A light was on his seared face, and his pipe lay - neglected on the boards. “Ay, sir, and there be a flag astern of her never - yet seed on earth, nor on the waters under the earth. The tide is settin' - in, the tide is settin' in.” - </p> - <p> - These were words to set me thinking. And many a time they came back to me - when the old man was laid away in the spot reserved for those who sailed - the seas for Mr. Carvel. - </p> - <p> - Every week I drew up a report for my grandfather, and thus I strove by - shouldering labour and responsibility to ease my conscience of that load - which troubled it. For often, as we walked together through the yellow - fields of an evening, it had been on my tongue to confess the lie Mr. - Allen had led me into. But the sight of the old man, trembling and - tremulous, aged by a single stroke, his childlike trust in my strength and - beliefs, and above all his faith in a political creed which he nigh deemed - needful for the soul's salvation,—these things still held me back. - Was it worth while now, I asked myself, to disturb the peace of that mind? - </p> - <p> - Thus the summer wore on to early autumn. And one day I was standing booted - and spurred in the stables, Harvey putting the bridle upon Firefly, when - my boy Hugo comes running in. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Dick!” he cries, “Marse Satan he come in the pinnace, and young - Marse Satan and Missis Satan, and Marse Satan's pastor!” - </p> - <p> - “What the devil do you mean, Hugo?” - </p> - <p> - “Young ebony's right, sir,” chuckled Harvey; “'tis the devil and his - following.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean Mr. Grafton, fellow?” I demanded, the unwelcome truth coming - over me. - </p> - <p> - “That he does,” remarked Harvey, laconically. “You won't be wanting her - now, your honour?” - </p> - <p> - “Hold my stirrup,” I cried, for the news had put me in anger. “Hold my - stirrup, sirrah!” - </p> - <p> - I believe I took Firefly the best of thirty miles that afternoon and - brought her back in the half-light, my saddle discoloured with her sweat. - I clanked into the hall like a captain of horse. The night was sharp with - the first touch of autumn, and a huge backlog lay on the irons. Around it, - in a comfortable half-circle sat our guests, Grafton and Mr. Allen and - Philip smoking and drinking for a whet against supper, and Mrs. Grafton in - my grandfather's chair. There was an easy air of possession about the - party of them that they had never before assumed, and the sight made me - rattle again, the big door behind me. - </p> - <p> - “A surprise for you, my dear nephew,” Grafton said gayly, “I'll, lay a - puncheon you did, not, expect us.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel woke with a start at the sound of the door and said - querulously, “Guests, my lord, and I have done my poor best to make them - welcome in your absence.” - </p> - <p> - The sense of change in him stung me. How different would his tone have - been a year ago! - </p> - <p> - He tattooed with his cane, which was the sign he generally made when he - was ready for bed. Toward night his speech would hurt him. I assisted him - up, the stairs, my uncle taking his arm on the other side. And together, - with Diomedes help; we undressed him, Grafton talking in low tomes the - while: Since this was, an office I was wont to perform, my temper was now - overwhelming me. But I kept my month closed. At last he had had the simple - meal Dr. Leiden allowed him, his candles were snuffed, and my uncle and I - made our way to the hall together: There my aunt and Mr. Allen were at - picquet. - </p> - <p> - “Supper is insupportably late,” says she; with a yawn, and rings the - hand-bell. “Scipio,” she cries, “why are we not served?” - </p> - <p> - I took a stride forward. But my uncle raised a restraining hand. - </p> - <p> - “Caroline, remember that this is not our house,” says he, reprovingly. - </p> - <p> - There fell a deep silence; the log cracking; and just then the door swung - on its hinges, and Mr. Starkie entered with the great bunch of keys in his - hand. - </p> - <p> - “The buildings are all secure; Mr. Richard,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Very good, Starkie,” I replied. I turned to Scipio, standing by the - low-boy, his teeth, going like a castanet. - </p> - <p> - “You may serve at the usual hour, Scipio,” said I. - </p> - <p> - Supper began stiff as a state banquet. My uncle was conciliatory, with the - manners of a Crichton. My aunt, not having come from generations of silver - and self-control, flatly in a bad humour. Mr. Allen talked from force of - habit, being used to pay in such kind for his meals. But presently the - madeira, warmed these two into a better spirit. I felt that I had victory - on my side, and was nothing loth to join them at whist, Philip and I - against the rector and my aunt, and won something like two pounds apiece - from them. Grafton made it a rule never to play. - </p> - <p> - The next morning, when I returned from my inspection, I found the rector - and Philip had decamped with two of our choice horses, and that my uncle - and aunt had commanded the barge, and gone to Mr. Lloyd's. I sent for - Scipio. - </p> - <p> - “Fore de Lawd, Marse Richard,” he wailed, “'twan't Scipio's fault. Marse - Grafton is dry fambly!” This was Scipio's strongest argument. “I jes' - can't refuse one of de fambly, Marse Dick; and old Marse he say he too old - now for quarrellin'.” - </p> - <p> - I saw that resistance was useless. There was nothing for it but to bide - any time. And I busied myself with bills of cargo until I heard the horses - on the drive. Mr. Allen and Philip came swaggering in, flushed with the - exercise, and calling for punch, and I met them in the hall. - </p> - <p> - “A word with you, Mr. Allen!” I called out. - </p> - <p> - “A thousand, Mr. Richard, if you like,” he said gayly, “as soon as this - thirst of mine be quenched.” - </p> - <p> - I waited while he drained two glasses, when he followed me into the - library, closing the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Now, sir,” I began, “though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual - adviser, I intend speaking plain. For I know you to be one of the greatest - rogues in the colony.” - </p> - <p> - I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me - through. But I had misjudged him. - </p> - <p> - “Speak plain, by all means,” he replied; “but first let me ask for some - tobacco.” - </p> - <p> - He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the - moment I was silent with sheer surprise. - </p> - <p> - “You know I can't call you out,” he went on, surrounding himself with - clouds of smoke, “a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I doubt - whether I should. I like you, Richard,” said he. “You are straight-spoken - and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad I should have been - had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me squirm for life's - luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is prime tobacco, - Richard.” - </p> - <p> - He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous admiration - for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could not help liking - him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably handsome, and his riding - clothes were of the latest London cut. - </p> - <p> - “Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you - practise?” I asked curiously. - </p> - <p> - “No doubt,” he answered carelessly; “but these are well enough, and - shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?” - </p> - <p> - This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in the - interval. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions, - Mr. Allen,” I said. “I am not of the King's party now, and never shall be. - And you know this better than another.” - </p> - <p> - “Those are strong words, Richard, my lad,” said he, bringing his eyebrows - together. - </p> - <p> - “They are true words,” I retorted. “Why did you lie, I say?” - </p> - <p> - He said nothing for a while, but his breath came heavily. - </p> - <p> - “I will pass it, I will pass it,” he said at length, “but, by God! it is - more than I have had to swallow in all my life before. Look at your - grandfather, sir!” he cried; “behold him on the very brink of the grave, - and ask me again why I lied to him! His hope of heaven is scarce less - sacred to him than his love of the King, and both are so tightly wrapped - about his heart that this knowledge of you would break it. Yes, break his - heart, I say” (and he got to his legs), “and you would kill him for the - sake of a boyish fancy!” - </p> - <p> - I knew he was acting, as well as though he had climbed upon the table and - said it. And yet he had struck the very note of my own fears, and hit upon - the one reason why I had not confessed lung ago. - </p> - <p> - “There is more you might have said, Mr. Allen,” I remarked presently; “you - have a cause for keeping me under your instruction, and that is behind - all.” - </p> - <p> - He gave me a strange look. - </p> - <p> - “You are too acute by far,” said he; “your imagination runs with you. I - have said I like you, and I can teach you classics as well as another. Is - it not enough to admit that the money I get for your instruction keeps me - in champagne?” - </p> - <p> - “No, it is not enough,” I said stoutly. - </p> - <p> - “Then you must guess again, my lad,” he answered with a laugh, and left - the room with the easy grace that distinguished him. - </p> - <p> - There was armed peace the rest of my uncle's visit. They departed on the - third day. My Aunt Caroline, when she was not at picquet with Mr. Allen or - quarrelling with Mrs. Willis or with Grafton himself, yawned without - cessation. She declared in one of her altercations with her lord and - master that she would lose her wits were they to remain another day, a - threat that did not seem to move Grafton greatly. Philip ever maintained - the right to pitch it on the side of his own convenience, and he chose in - this instance to come to the rescue of his dear mamma, and turned the - scales in her favour. He was pleased to characterize the Hall as - insupportable, and vowed that his clothes would be out of fashion before - they reached Rousby Hall, their next stopping-place. To do Philip justice, - he was more honest a rascal than his father, though I am of the opinion - that he had not the brain for great craft. And he had drawn from his - mother a love of baubles which kept his mind from scheming. He had little - to say to me, and I less to him. - </p> - <p> - Grafton, as may be supposed, made me distinct advances before his - departure, perceiving the unwisdom of antagonizing me unnecessarily. He - had the imprudence once to ask of me the facts and figures of the estate; - and tho' 'twas skilfully done by contrasting his own crops in Kent, you - may be sure I was on my guard, and that he got nothing. - </p> - <p> - I was near forgetting an incident of their visit which I afterwards had - good cause to remember. The morning of my talk with Mr. Allen I went to - the stables to see how he had used Cynthia, and found old Harvey wiping - her down, and rumbling the while like a crater. - </p> - <p> - “What think you of the rector as a representative of heaven, Harvey?” I - asked. - </p> - <p> - “Him a representative of heaven!” he snorted; “I've heard tell of rotten - boroughs, and I'm thinking Mr. Allen will be standing for one. What be him - and Mr. Grafton a-doing here, sir, plotting all kinds o' crime while the - old gentleman's nigh on his back?” - </p> - <p> - “Plotting?” I said, catching at the word. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, plotting,” repeated Harvey, casting his cloth away; “murder and all - the crimes in the calendar, I take it. I hear him and Mr. Grafton among - the stalls this morning, and when they sees me they look like Knipe, here, - caught with a fowl.” - </p> - <p> - “And what were they saying?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Saying! God only knows their wickedness. I got the words 'Upper Marlboro' - and 'South River' and 'next voyage,' and that profligate rector wanted to - know as to how 'Griggs was reliable.'” - </p> - <p> - I thought no more of it at the time, believing it to be some of the small - rascalities they were forever at. But that name of Griggs (why, the powers - only know) stuck in my mind to turn up again. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. THE RED IN THE CARVEL BLOOD - </h2> - <p> - After that, when we went back to Annapolis for the winter, there was no - longer any disguise between my tutor and myself. I was not of a mind to - feign a situation that did not exist, nor to permit him to do so. I gave - him to understand that tho' I went to him for instruction, 'twas through - no fault of mine. That I would learn what I pleased and do what pleased - me. And the rector, a curse upon him, seemed well content with that; nor - could I come at his devil's reason far wanting me, save for the money, as - he had declared. There were days when he and I never touched a hook, both - being out of humour for study, when he told me yarns of Frederick of - Prussia and his giant guard, of Florence and of Venice, and of the court - of his Holiness of Rome. For he had drifted about the earth like a log-end - in the Atlantic, before his Lordship gave him his present berth. We - passed, too, whole mornings at picquet, I learning enough of Horace to - quote at the routs we both attended, but a deal more of kings and deuces. - And as I may add, that he got no more of my money than did I of his. - </p> - <p> - The wonder of it was that we never became friends. He was two men, this - rector of St. Anne's, half of him as lovable as any I ever encountered. - But trust him I never would, always meeting him on the middle ground; and - there were times, after his talks with Grafton, when his eyes were like a - cat's, and I was conscious of a sinister note in his dealing which put me - on my guard. - </p> - <p> - You will say, my dears, that some change had come over me, that I was no - longer the same lad I have been telling you of. - </p> - <p> - Those days were not these, yet I make no show of hiding or of palliation. - Was it Dorothy's conduct that drove me? Not wholly. A wild red was ever in - the Carvel blood, in Captain Jack, in Lionel, in the ancestor of King - Charles's day, who fought and bled and even gambled for his king. And my - grandfather knew this; he warned me, but he paid my debts. And I thank - Heaven he felt that my heart was right. - </p> - <p> - I was grown now, certainly in stature. And having managed one of the - largest plantations in the province, I felt the man, as lads are wont - after their first responsibilities. I commanded my wine at the Coffee - House with the best of the bucks, and was made a member of the South River - and Jockey clubs. I wore the clothes that came out to me from London, and - vied in fashion with Dr. Courtenay and other macaronies. And I drove a - carriage of mine own, the Carvel arms emblazoned thereon, and Hugo in the - family livery. - </p> - <p> - After a deal of thought upon the subject, I decided, for a while at least, - to show no political leanings at all. And this was easier of - accomplishment than you may believe, for at that time in Maryland Tory and - Whig were amiable enough, and the young gentlemen of the first families - dressed alike and talked alike at the parties they both attended. The - non-importation association had scarce made itself felt in the dress of - society. Gentlemen of degree discussed differences amicably over their - decanters. And only on such occasions as Mr. Hood's return, and the - procession of the Lower House through the streets, and the arrival of the - Good Intent, did high words arise among the quality. And it was because - class distinctions were so strongly marked that it took so long to bring - loyalists and patriots of high rank to the sword's point. - </p> - <p> - I found time to manage such business affairs of Mr. Carvel's as he could - not attend to himself. Grafton and his family dined in Marlboro' Street - twice in the week; my uncle's conduct toward me was the very soul of - consideration, and he compelled that likewise from his wife and his son. - So circumspect was he that he would have fooled one who knew him a whit - less than I. He questioned me closely upon my studies, and in my - grandfather's presence I was forced to answer. And when the rector came to - dine and read to Mr. Carvel, my uncle catechised him so searchingly on my - progress that he was pushed to the last source of his ingenuity for - replies. More than once was I tempted to blurt out the whole wretched - business, for I well understood there was some deep game between him and - Grafton. In my uncle's absence, my aunt never lost a chance for an - ill-natured remark upon Patty, whom she had seen that winter at the - assemblies and elsewhere. And she deplored the state our people of fashion - were coming to, that they allowed young girls without family to attend - their balls. - </p> - <p> - “But we can expect little else, father,” she would say to Mr. Carvel - nodding in his chair, “when some of our best families openly espouse the - pernicious doctrines of republicanism. They are gone half mad over that - Wilkes who should have been hung before this. Philip, dear, pour the wine - for your grandfather.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Patty had been well received. I took her to her first assembly, where - her simple and unassuming ways had made her an instant favourite; and her - face, which had the beauty of dignity and repose even so early in life, - gained her ample attention. I think she would have gone but little had not - her father laughed her out of some of her domesticity. No longer at Sunday - night supper in Gloucester Street was the guest seat empty. There was more - than one guest seat now, and the honest barrister himself was the most - pleased at the change. As I took my accustomed place on the settle - cushion,—Patty's first embroidery,—he would cry: - </p> - <p> - “Heigho, Richard, our little Miss Prim hath become a belle. And I must - have another clerk now to copy out my briefs, and a housekeeper soon, i' - faith.” - </p> - <p> - Patty would never fail to flush up at the words, and run to perch on her - father's knee and put her hand over his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “How can you, Mr. Swain?” says she; “how can you, when 'tis you and - mother, and Richard here, who make me go into the world? You know I would - a thousand times rather bake your cakes and clean your silver! But you - will not hear of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Fie!” says the barrister. “Listen to her, Richard! And yet she will fly - up the stairs to don a fine gown at the first rap of the knocker. Oh, the - wenches, the wenches! Are they not all alike, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “They have changed none since I was a lass,” replies the quiet invalid, - with a smile. “And you should know what I was, Henry.” - </p> - <p> - “I know!” cries he; “none better. Well I recall the salmon and white your - mother gave you before I came to Salem.” He sighed and then laughed at the - recollection. “And when this strapping young Singleton comes, Richard, - 'twould do you good to be hiding there in that cupboard,—and it - would hold you,—and count the seconds until Miss Prim has her skirt - in her hand and her foot on the lower step. And yet how innocent is she - now before you and me.” - </p> - <p> - Here he would invariably be smothered. - </p> - <p> - “Percy Singleton!” says Patty, with a fine scorn; “'twill be Mr. Eglinton, - the curate, next.” - </p> - <p> - “This I know,” says her father, slapping me on the shoulder, “this I know, - that you are content to see Richard without primping.” - </p> - <p> - “But I have known Richard since I was six,” says she. “Richard is one of - the family. There is no need of disguise from him.” - </p> - <p> - I thought, ruefully enough, that it seemed my fate to be one of the family - everywhere I went. - </p> - <p> - And just then, as if in judgment, the gate snapped and the knocker - sounded, and Patty leaped down with a blush. “What said I say?” cries the - barrister. “I have not seen human nature in court for naught. Run, now,” - says he, pinching her cheek as she stood hesitating whether to fly or - stay; “run and put on the new dress I have bought you. And Richard and I - will have a cup of ale in the study.” - </p> - <p> - The visitor chanced to be Will Fotheringay that time. He was not the only - one worn out with the mad chase in Prince George Street, and preferred a - quiet evening with a quiet beauty to the crowded lists of Miss Manners. - Will declared that the other gallants were fools over the rare touch of - blue in the black hair: give him Miss Swain's, quoth he, lifting his - glass,—hers was; the colour of a new sovereign. Will was not, the - only one. But I think Percy Singleton was the best of them all, tho' Patty - ridiculed him—every chance she got, and even to his face. So will: - the best-hearted and soberest of women play the coquette. Singleton was - rather a reserved young Englishman of four and twenty, who owned a large - estate in Talbot which he was laying out with great success. Of a Whig - family in the old country, he had been drawn to that party in the new, and - so, had made Mr. Swain's acquaintance. The next step in his fortunes was - to fall in love with Patty, which was natural enough. Many a night that - winter I walked with him from Gloucester Street to the Coffee House, to - sit an hour over, a battle. And there Master Tom and Dr. Hamilton, and - other gay macaronies would sometimes join us. Singleton had a greater - contempt for Tom than I, but bore with him for his sister's sake. For Tom, - in addition to his other follies, was become an open loyalist, and never - missed his Majesty's health, though he knew no better than my Hugo the - question at issue. 'Twas not zeal for King George, however, that made him - drunk at one of the assemblies, and forced his sister to leave in the - midst of a dance for very shame. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Richard, is, there not something you can do?” she cried, when, I had - got her back in the little parlour in Gloucester Street; “father has - argued and, pleaded and threatened in vain. I thought,—I thought - perhaps you might help him.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I am not one to preach, or to boast,” I replied soberly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said she, looking grave; “I know you are wilder than you used to - be; that you play more than you ought, and higher than you ought.” - </p> - <p> - I was silent. - </p> - <p> - “And I suspect at whose door it lies,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis in the blood, Patty,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - She glanced at me quickly. - </p> - <p> - “I know you better than you think,” she said. “But Tom has not your - excuse. And if he had only your faults I would say nothing. He does not - care for those he should, and he is forever in the green-room of the - theatre.” - </p> - <p> - I made haste to change the subject, and to give her what comfort I might; - for she was sobbing before she finished. And the next day I gave Tom a - round talking-to for having so little regard for his sister, the hem of - whose skirt he was not worthy to touch. He took it meekly enough, with a - barrel of pat excuses to come after. And he asked me to lend him my - phaeton, that he might go a-driving with Miss Crane, of the theatrical - company, to Round Bay! - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile I saw Miss Manners more frequently than was good for my peace of - mind, and had my turn as her partner at the balls. But I could not bring - myself to take third or fourth rank in the army that attended her. I, who - had been her playmate, would not become her courtier. Besides, I had not - the wit. - </p> - <p> - Was it strange that Dr. Courtenay should pride himself upon the discovery - of a new beauty? And in the Coffee House, and in every drawing-room in - town, prophesy for her a career of conquest such as few could boast? She - was already launched upon that career. And rumour had it that Mr. - Marmaduke was even then considering taking her home to London, where the - stage was larger and the triumph greater. Was it surprising that the - Gazette should contain a poem with the doctor's well-known ear-marks upon - it? It set the town a-wagging, and left no room for doubt as to who had - inspired it. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Sweet Pandora, tho' formed of Clay, - Was fairer than the Light of Day. - By Venus learned in Beauty's Arts, - And destined thus to conquer Hearts. - A Goddess of this Town, I ween, - Fair as Pandora, scarce Sixteen, - Is destined, e'en by Jove's Command, - To conquer all of Maryland. - Oh, Bachelors, play have a Care, - For She will all your Hearts ensnare.” - </pre> - <p> - So it ran. I think, if dear Mrs. Manners could have had her way, Dolly - would have passed that year at a certain young ladies' school in New York. - But Mr. Marmaduke's pride in his daughter's beauty got the better of her. - The strut in his gait became more marked the day that poem appeared, and - he went to the Coffee House both morning and evening, taking snuff to hide - his emotions when Miss Manners was spoken of; and he was perceived by many - in Church Street arm in arm with Dr. Courtenay himself. - </p> - <p> - As you may have imagined before now, the doctor's profession was leisure, - not medicine. He had known ambition once, it was said, and with reason, - for he had studied surgery in Germany for the mere love of the science. - After which, making the grand tour in France and Italy, he had taken up - that art of being a gentleman in which men became so proficient in my - young days. He had learned to speak French like a Parisian, had hobnobbed - with wit and wickedness from Versailles to Rome, and then had come back to - Annapolis to set the fashions and to spend the fortune his uncle lately - had left him. He was our censor of beauty, and passed judgment upon all - young ladies as they stepped into the arena. To be noticed by him meant - success; to be honoured in the Gazette was to be crowned at once a - reigning belle. The chord of his approval once set a-vibrating, all minor - chords sang in harmony. And it was the doctor who raised the first public - toast to Miss Manners. Alas! I might have known it would be so! - </p> - <p> - But Miss Dorothy was not of a nature to remain dependent upon a censor's - favour. The minx deported herself like any London belle of experience, as - tho' she had known the world from her cradle. She was not to be deceived - by the face value of the ladies' praises, nor rebuffed unmercifully by my - Aunt Caroline, who had held the sceptre in the absence of a younger - aspirant. The first time these ladies clashed, which was not long in - coming, my aunt met with a wit as sharp again as her own, and never - afterwards essayed an open tilt. The homage of men Dolly took as Caesar - received tribute, as a matter of course. The doctor himself rode to the - races beside the Manners coach, leaning gallantly over the door. My lady - held court in her father's box, received and dismissed, smiled and - frowned, with Courtenay as her master of ceremonies. Mr. Dulany was one of - the presidents of the Jockey Club that year, and his horse winning the - honours he presented her with his colours, scarlet and white, which she - graciously wore. The doctor swore he would import a horse the next season - on the chance of the privilege. My aunt was furious. I have never - mentioned her beauty because I never could see it. 'Twas a coarser type - than attracted me. She was then not greatly above six and thirty, - appearing young for that age, and she knew the value of lead in judicious - quantity. At that meet gentlemen came to her box only to tally of Miss - Manners, to marvel that one so young could have the 'bel air', to praise - her beauty and addresse, or to remark how well Mr. Durlany's red and white - became her. With all of which Mrs. Grafton was fain to agree, and must - even excel, until her small stock of patience was exhausted. To add to her - chagrin my aunt lost a pretty sum to the rector by Mr. Dulany's horse. I - came upon her after the race trying to coax her head-dress, through her - coach door, Mr. Allen having tight hold of her hand the while. - </p> - <p> - “And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does: he?” I overheard her - saying: “I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay's motions. Were he, - to choose, a wench out of the King's passengers I'd warrant our macaronies - to compose odes to her eyebrows.” And at that moment perceiving me she - added, “Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew? Miss Dolly is the craze now, - and will last about as long as another of the doctor's whims. And then you - shall have her to yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Hoity-toity,” returned my aunt, who had by then succeeded in getting her - head-gear safe within; “the fashion, yes until a prettier comes along.” - </p> - <p> - “There is small danger of that for the present,” I said, smiling: “Surely - you can find no fault with this choice!” - </p> - <p> - “Gadzooks! If I were blind, sir, I think I might!” she cried unguardedly. - </p> - <p> - “I will not dispute that, Aunt Caroline,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - And as I rode off I heard her giving directions in no mild tone to the - coachman through Mr. Allen. - </p> - <p> - Perchance you did not know, my dears, that Annapolis had the first theatre - in all the colonies. And if you care to search through the heap of - Maryland Gazettes in the garret, I make no doubt you will come across this - announcement for a certain night in the spring of the year 1769: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - By Permission of his Excellency, the Governor, - at the New Theatre in Annapolis, - by the American Company of Comedians, on Monday - next, being the 22nd of this Instant, will be performed - - ROMEO AND JULIET. - - (Romeo by a young Gentleman for his Diversion.) - Likewise the Farce called - - MISS IN HER TEENS. - - To begin precisely at Seven of the Clock. Tickets - to be had at the Printing Office. Box 10s. Pit 1s 6d. - No Person to be admitted behind the Scenes. -</pre> - <p> - The gentleman to perform Romeo was none other than Dr. Courtenay himself. - He had a gentlemanly passion for the stage, as was the fashion in those - days, and had organized many private theatricals. The town was in a - ferment over the event, boxes being taken a week ahead. The doctor himself - writ the epilogue, to be recited by the beautiful Mrs. Hallam, who had - inspired him the year before to compose that famous poem beginning: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Around her see the Graces play, - See Venus' Wanton doves, - And in her Eye's Pellucid Ray - See little Laughing Loves. - Ye gods! 'Tis Cytherea's Face.” - </pre> - <p> - You may find that likewise in Mr. Green's newspaper. - </p> - <p> - The new theatre was finished in West Street that spring, the old one - having proven too small for our gay capital. 'Twas then the best in the - New World, the censor having pronounced it far above any provincial - playhouse he had seen abroad. The scenes were very fine, the boxes carved - and gilded in excellent good taste, and both pit and gallery commodious. - And we, too, had our “Fops' Alley,” where our macaronies ogled the fair - and passed from box to box. - </p> - <p> - For that night of nights when the doctor acted I received an invitation - from Dolly to Mr. Marmaduke's box, and to supper afterward in Prince - George Street. When I arrived, the playhouse was lit with myriad candles,—to - be snuffed save the footlights presently,—and the tiers were all - brilliant with the costumes of ladies and gentlemen. Miss Tayloe and Miss - Dulany were of our party, with Fitzhugh and Worthington, and Mr. Manners - for propriety. The little fop spent his evening, by the way, in a box - opposite, where my Aunt Caroline gabbled to him and Mr. Allen during the - whole performance. My lady got more looks than any in the house. She - always drew admiration; indeed, but there had been much speculation of - late whether she favoured Dr. Courtenay or Fitzhugh, and some had it that - the doctor's acting would decide between the two. - </p> - <p> - When Romeo came upon the stage he was received with loud applause. But my - lady showed no interest,—not she, while the doctor fervently - recited, “Out of her favour, where I am in love.” In the first orchard - scene, with the boldness of a practised lover, he almost ignored Mrs. - Hallam in the balcony. It seemed as though he cast his burning words and - languishing glances at my lady in the box, whereupon there was a deal of - nudging round about. Miss asked for her smelling salts, and declared the - place was stifling. But I think if the doctor had cherished a hope of her - affections he lost it when he arrived at the lines, “She speaks, yet she - says nothing.” At that unhappy moment Miss Dorothy was deep in - conversation with Fitzhugh, the audible titter in the audience arousing - her. How she reddened when she perceived the faces turned her way! - </p> - <p> - “What was it, Betty?” she demanded quickly. - </p> - <p> - But Betty was not spiteful, and would not tell. Fitzhugh himself - explained, and to his sorrow, for during the rest of the evening she would - have nothing to do with him. Presently she turned to me. Glancing upward - to where Patty leaned on the rail between Will Fotheringay and Singleton, - she whispered: - </p> - <p> - “I wonder you can sit here so quiet, Richard. You are showing a deal of - self-denial.” - </p> - <p> - “I am happy enough,” I answered, surprised. - </p> - <p> - “I hear you have a rival,” says she. - </p> - <p> - “I know I have a dozen,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway's fields but - yesterday,” said Dolly, “and as they came out upon the road they looked as - guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm.” - </p> - <p> - Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head. I was - thrown all in a heap. - </p> - <p> - “You need not be so disturbed,” whispers my lady. “Singleton has a crooked - mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between you. I adore - her, Richard. I wish I had her sweet ways.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, “why should you think - me in love with Patty? I have never been accused of that before.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, fie! You deny her?” says Dolly. “I did not think that of you, - Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “You should know better,” I replied, with some bitterness. - </p> - <p> - We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage, - whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And - though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me - through and through. - </p> - <p> - “You do not care for Patty?” she whispered. And I thought a quiver of - earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her - breath fanned my cheek. - </p> - <p> - “No,” I said. “Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make pretences?” - </p> - <p> - She turned away. - </p> - <p> - “But you,” I said, bending to her ear, “is it Fitzhugh, Dorothy?” - </p> - <p> - I heard her laugh softly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said she, “I thought you might divine, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Was it possible? And yet she had played so much with me that I dared not - risk the fire. She had too many accomplished gallants at her feet to think - of Richard, who had no novelty and no wit. I sat still, barely conscious - of the rising and falling voices beyond the footlights, feeling only her - living presence at my side. She spoke not another word until the playhouse - servants had relighted the chandeliers, and Dr. Courtenay came in, flushed - with triumph, for his mead of praise. - </p> - <p> - “And how went it, Miss Manners?” says he, very confident. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you fell over the orchard wall, doctor,” retorts my lady. “La! I - believe I could have climbed it better myself.” - </p> - <p> - And all he got was a hearty laugh for his pains, Mr. Marmaduke joining in - from the back of the box. And the story was at the Coffee House early on - the morrow. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. A FESTIVAL AND A PARTING - </h2> - <p> - My grandfather and I were seated at table together. It was early June, the - birds were singing in the garden, and the sweet odours of the flowers were - wafted into the room. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” says he, when Scipio had poured his claret, “my illness cheated - you out of your festival last year. I dare swear you deem yourself too old - for birthdays now.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed. - </p> - <p> - “So it is with lads,” said Mr. Carvel; “they will rush into manhood as - heedless as you please. Take my counsel, boy, and remain young. Do not - cross the bridge before you have to. And I have been thinking that we - shall have your fete this year, albeit you are grown, and Miss Dolly is - the belle of the province. 'Tis like sunshine into my old heart to see the - lads and lasses again, and to hear the merry, merry fiddling. I will have - his new Excellency, who seems a good and a kindly man, and Lloyd and - Tilghman and Dulany and the rest, with their ladies, to sit with me. And - there will be plenty of punch and syllabub and sangaree, I warrant; and - tarts and jellies and custards, too, for the misses. Ring for Mrs. Willis, - my son.” - </p> - <p> - Willis came with her curtsey to the old gentleman, who gave his order then - and there. He never waited for a fancy of this kind to grow cold. - </p> - <p> - “We shall all be children again, on that day, Mrs. Willis,” says he. “And - I catch any old people about, they shall be thrust straight in the town - stocks, i' faith.” - </p> - <p> - Willis made another curtsey. - </p> - <p> - “We missed it sorely, last year, please your honour,” says she, and - departs smiling. - </p> - <p> - “And you shall have your Patty Swain, Richard,” Mr. Carvel continued. “Do - you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place of a - present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel. And I love - that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath demureness and - dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage you are all mad - over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too. I'll warrant I'd teach his - daughter loyalty in a day, and I had again your years and your spirit!” - </p> - <p> - I have but to close my eyes, and my fancy takes me back to that birthday - festival. Think of it, my dears! Near threescore years are gone since - then, when this old man you call grandfather, and some—bless me!—great-grandfather, - was a lusty lad like Comyn here. But his hand is steady as he writes these - words and his head clear, because he hath not greatly disabused that life - which God has given him. - </p> - <p> - How can I, tho' her face and form are painted on my memory, tell you what - fair, pert Miss Dorothy was at that time'! Ay, I know what you would say: - that Sir Joshua's portrait hangs above, executed but the year after, and - hung at the second exhibition of the Royal Academy. As I look upon it now, - I say that no whit of its colour is overcharged. And there is likewise Mr. - Peale's portrait, done much later. I answer that these great masters have - accomplished what poor, human art can do. But Nature hath given us a - better picture. “Come hither, Bess! Yes, truly, you have Dolly's hair, - with the very gloss upon it. But fashions have changed, my child, and that - is not as Dolly wore it.” Whereupon Bess goes to the portrait, and - presently comes back to give me a start. And then we go hand in hand up - the stairs of Calvert House even to the garret, where an old cedar chest - is laid away under the eaves. Bess, the minx, well knows it, and takes out - a prim little gown with the white fading yellow, and white silk mits - without fingers, and white stockings with clocks, and a gauze cap, with - wings and streamers, that sits saucily on the black locks; and the - lawn-embroidered apron; and such dainty, high-heeled slippers with the - pearls still a-glisten upon the buckles. Away she flies to put them on. - And then my heart gives a leap to see my Dorothy back again,—back - again as she was that June afternoon we went together to my last birthday - party, her girlish arms bare to the elbow, and the lace about her slender - throat. Yes, Bess hath the very tilt of her chin, the regal grace of that - slim figure, and the deep blue eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Grandfather, dear, you are crushing the gown!” - </p> - <p> - And so the fire is not yet gone out of this old frame. - </p> - <p> - Ah, yes, there they are again, those unpaved streets of old Annapolis - arched with great trees on either side. And here is Dolly, holding her - skirt in one hand and her fan in the other, and I in a brave blue coat, - and pumps with gold buttons, and a cocked hat of the newest fashion. I had - met her leaning over the gate in Prince George Street. And, what was - strange for her, so deep in thought that she jumped when I spoke her name. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, I have come for you to walk to the party, as we used when we - were children.” - </p> - <p> - “As we used when we were children!” cried she. And flinging wide the gate, - stretched out her hand for me to take. “And you are eighteen years to-day! - It seems but last year when we skipped hand in hand to Marlboro' Street - with Mammy Lucy behind us. Are you coming, mammy?” she called. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, mistis, I'se comin',” said a voice from behind the golden-rose - bushes, and out stepped Aunt Lucy in a new turban, making a curtsey to me. - “La, Marse Richard!” said she, “to think you'se growed to be a fine - gemman! 'Taint but t'other day you was kissin' Miss Dolly on de - plantation.” - </p> - <p> - “It seems longer than that to me, Aunt Lucy,” I answered, laughing at - Dolly's blushes. - </p> - <p> - “You have too good a memory, mammy,” said my lady, withdrawing her fingers - from mine. - </p> - <p> - “Bress you, honey! De ole woman doan't forgit some things.” - </p> - <p> - And she fell back to a respectful six paces. - </p> - <p> - “Those were happy times,” said Dorothy. Then the little sigh became a - laugh. “I mean to enjoy myself to-day, Richard. But I fear I shall not see - as much of you as I used. You are old enough to play the host, now.” - </p> - <p> - “You shall see as much as you will.” - </p> - <p> - “Where have you been of late, sir? In Gloucester Street?” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis your own fault, Dolly. You are changeable as the sky,—to-day - sunny, and to-morrow cold. I am sure of my welcome in Gloucester Street.” - </p> - <p> - She tripped a step as we turned the corner, and came closer to my side. - </p> - <p> - “You must learn to take me as you find me, dear Richard. To-day I am in a - holiday humour.” - </p> - <p> - Some odd note in her tone troubled me, and I glanced at her quickly. She - was a constant wonder and puzzle to me. After that night at the theatre my - hopes had risen for the hundredth time, but I had gone to Prince George - Street on the morrow to meet another rebuff—and Fitzhugh. So I had - learned to interpret her by other means than words, and now her mood - seemed reckless rather than merry. - </p> - <p> - “Are you not happy, Dolly?” I asked abruptly. - </p> - <p> - She laughed. “What a silly question!” she said. “Why do you ask?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I believe you are not.” - </p> - <p> - In surprise she looked up at me, and then down at the pearls upon her - satin slippers. - </p> - <p> - “I am going with you to your birthday festival, Richard. Could we wish for - more? I am as happy as you.” - </p> - <p> - “That may well be, for I might be happier.” - </p> - <p> - Again her eyes met mine, and she hummed an air. So we came to the gate, - beside which stood Diomedes and Hugo in the family claret-red. A coach was - drawn up, and another behind it, and we went down the leafy walk in the - midst of a bevy of guests. - </p> - <p> - We have no such places nowadays, my dears, as was my grandfather's. The - ground between the street and the brick wall in the rear was a great - stretch, as ample in acreage as many a small country-place we have in - these times. The house was on the high land in front, hedged in by old - trees, and thence you descended by stately tiers until you came to the - level which held the dancers. Beyond that, and lower still, a lilied pond - widened out of the sluggish brook with a cool and rustic spring-house at - one end. The spring-house was thatched, with windows looking out upon the - water. Long after, when I went to France, I was reminded of the shy beauty - of this part of my old home by the secluded pond of the Little Trianon. So - was it that King Louis's Versailles had spread its influence a thousand - leagues to our youthful continent. - </p> - <p> - My grandfather sat in his great chair on the sward beside the fiddlers, - his old friends gathering around him, as in former years. - </p> - <p> - “And this is the miss that hath already broken half the bachelor hearts in - town!” said he, gayly. “What was my prediction, Miss Dolly, when you - stepped your first dance at Carvel Hall?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, you do me wrong, Mr. Carvel!” - </p> - <p> - “And I were a buck, you would not break mine, I warrant, unless it were - tit for tat,” said my grandfather; thereby putting me to more confusion - than Dolly, who laughed with the rest. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis well to boast, Mr. Carvel, when we are out of the battle,” cried Mr. - Lloyd. - </p> - <p> - Dolly was carried off immediately, as I expected. The doctor and - Worthington and Fitzhugh were already there, and waiting. I stood by Mr. - Carvel's chair, receiving the guests, and presently came Mr. Swain and - Patty. - </p> - <p> - “Heigho!” called Mr. Carvel, when he saw her; “here is the young lady that - hath my old affections. You are right welcome, Mr. Swain. Scipio, another - chair! 'Tis not over the wall any more, Miss Patty, with our flowered - India silk. But I vow I love you best with your etui.” - </p> - <p> - Patty, too, was carried off, for you may be sure that Will Fotheringay and - Singleton were standing on one foot and then the other, waiting for Mr. - Carvel to have done. Next arrived my aunt, in a wide calash and a wider - hoop, her stays laced so that she limped, and her hair wonderfully and - fearfully arranged by her Frenchman. Neither she nor Grafton was slow to - shower congratulations upon my grandfather and myself. Mr. Marmaduke went - through the ceremony after them. Dorothy's mother drew me aside. As long - as I could remember her face had been one that revealed a life's - disappointment. But to-day I thought it bore a trace of a deeper anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “How well I recall this day, eighteen years ago, Richard,” she said. “And - how proud your dear mother was that she had given a son to Captain Jack. - She had prayed for a son. I hope you will always do your parents credit, - my dear boy. They were both dear, dear friends of mine.” - </p> - <p> - My Aunt Caroline's harsher voice interrupted her. - </p> - <p> - “Gadzooks, ma'am!” she cried, as she approached us, “I have never in my - life laid eyes upon such beauty as your daughter's. You will have to take - her home, Mrs. Manners, to do her justice. You owe it her, ma'am. Come, - nephew, off with you, and head the minuet with Miss Dolly!” - </p> - <p> - My grandfather was giving the word to the fiddlers. But whether a desire - to cross my aunt held me back, or a sense of duty to greet the guests not - already come, or a vague intuition of some impending news drawn from Mrs. - Manners and Dorothy, I know not. Mr. Fitzhugh was easily persuaded to take - my place, and presently I slipped unnoticed into a shaded seat on the side - of the upper terrace, whence I could see the changing figures on the - green. And I thought of the birthday festivals Dolly and I had spent here, - almost since we were of an age to walk. Wet June days, when the broad - wings of the house rang with the sound of silver laughter and pattering - feet, and echoed with music from the hall; and merry June days, when the - laughter rippled among the lilacs, and pansies and poppies and sweet peas - were outshone by bright gowns and brighter faces. And then, as if to - complete the picture of the past, my eye fell upon our mammies modestly - seated behind the group of older people, Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, their - honest, black faces aglow with such unselfish enjoyment as they alone - could feel. - </p> - <p> - How easily I marked Dorothy among the throng! - </p> - <p> - Other girls found it hard to compress the spirits of youth within the - dignity of a minuet, and thought of the childish romp of former years. Not - so my lady. Long afterwards I saw her lead a ball with the first soldier - and gentleman of the land, but on that Tuesday she carried herself full as - well, so well that his Excellency and the gentlemen about him applauded - heartily. As the strains died away and the couples moved off among the - privet-lined paths, I went slowly down the terrace. Dorothy had come up to - speak to her mother, Dr. Courtenay lingering impatient at her side. And - though her colour glowed deeper, and the wind had loosed a wisp of her - hair, she took his Excellency's compliments undisturbed. Colonel Sharpe, - our former governor, who now made his home in the province, sat beside - him. - </p> - <p> - “Now where a-deuce were you, Richard?” said he. “You have missed as - pleasing a sight as comes to a man in a lifetime. Why were you not here to - see Miss Manners tread a minuet? My word! Terpsichore herself could scarce - have made it go better.” - </p> - <p> - “I saw the dance, sir, from a safe distance,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “I'll warrant!” said he, laughing, while Dolly shot me a wayward glance - from under her long lashes. “I'll warrant your eyes were fast on her from - beginning to end. Come, sir, confess!” - </p> - <p> - His big frame shook with the fun of it, for none in the colony could be - jollier than he on holiday occasions: and the group of ladies and - gentlemen beside him caught the infection, so that I was sore put to it. - </p> - <p> - “Will your Excellency confess likewise?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “So I will, Richard, and make patent to all the world that she hath the - remains of that shuttlecock, my heart.” - </p> - <p> - Up gets his Excellency (for so we still called him) and makes Dolly a low - reverence, kissing the tips of her white fingers. My lady drops a mock - curtsey in return. - </p> - <p> - “Your Excellency can do no less than sue for a dance,” drawled Dr. - Courtenay. - </p> - <p> - “And no more, I fear, sir, not being so nimble as I once was. I resign in - your favour, doctor,” said Colonel Sharpe. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Courtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had much - to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been governor - of the province could command her. The music was just begun again, and I - making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was brought up as - suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips. - </p> - <p> - “The dance belongs to Richard, doctor,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, Courtenay, there you have a buffer!” cried Colonel Sharpe, as the - much-discomfited doctor bowed with a very ill grace; while I, in no small - bewilderment, walked off with Dorothy. And a parting shot of the delighted - colonel brought the crimson to my face. Like the wind or April weather was - my lady, and her ways far beyond such a great simpleton as I. - </p> - <p> - “So I am ever forced to ask you to dance!” said Dolly. - </p> - <p> - “What were you about, moping off alone, with a party in your honour, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I was watching you, as I told his Excellency.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, fie!” she cried. “Why don't you assert yourself, Richard? There was a - time when you gave me no peace.” - </p> - <p> - “And then you rebuked me for dangling,” I retorted. - </p> - <p> - Up started the music, the fiddlers bending over their bows with flushed - faces, having dipped into the cool punch in the interval. Away flung my - lady to meet Singleton, while I swung Patty, who squeezed my hand in - return. And soon we were in the heat of it,—sober minuet no longer, - but romp and riot, the screams of the lasses a-mingle with our own - laughter, as we spun them until they were dizzy. My brain was a-whirl as - well, and presently I awoke to find Dolly pinching my arm. - </p> - <p> - “Have you forgotten me, Richard?” she whispered. “My other hand, sir. It - is I down the middle.” - </p> - <p> - Down we flew between the laughing lines, Dolly tripping with her head - high, and then back under the clasped hands in the midst of a fire of - raillery. Then the music stopped. Some strange exhilaration was in - Dorothy. - </p> - <p> - “Do you remember the place where I used to play fairy godmother, and wind - the flowers into my hair?” said she. - </p> - <p> - What need to ask? - </p> - <p> - “Come!” she commanded decisively. - </p> - <p> - “With all my heart!” I exclaimed, wondering at this new caprice. - </p> - <p> - “If we can but slip away unnoticed, they will never find us there,” she - said. And led the way herself, silent. At length we came to the damp shade - where the brook dived under the corner of the wall. I stooped to gather - the lilies of the valley, and she wove them into her hair as of old. - Suddenly she stopped, the bunch poised in her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Would you miss me if I went away, Richard?” she asked, in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, Dolly?” I cried, my voice failing. “Just that,” said - she. - </p> - <p> - “I would miss you, and sorely, tho' you give me trouble enough.” - </p> - <p> - “Soon I shall not be here to trouble you, Richard. Papa has decided that - we sail next week, on the Annapolis, for home.” - </p> - <p> - “Home!” I gasped. “England?” - </p> - <p> - “I am going to make my bow to royalty,” replied she, dropping a deep - curtsey. “Your Majesty, this is Miss Manners, of the province of - Maryland!” - </p> - <p> - “But next week!” I repeated, with a blank face. “Surely you cannot be - ready for the Annapolis!” - </p> - <p> - “McAndrews has instructions to send our things after,” said she. “There! - You are the first person I have told. You should feel honoured, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap of life - seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. Through the - trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness far away. When - I looked up again, she was gazing into the water. - </p> - <p> - “Are you glad to go?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” answered the minx, readily. “I shall see the world, and meet - people of consequence.” - </p> - <p> - “So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!” I cried - bitterly. - </p> - <p> - “How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we here? - The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth! There is - not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and Virginia is - scarce better provided.” - </p> - <p> - “In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that she - had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself. - </p> - <p> - “All in good time,” said I. “We shall have no lack of noted men - presently.” - </p> - <p> - “Mere two-penny heroes,” she retorted. “I know your great men, such as Mr. - Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams.” - </p> - <p> - I began pulling up the grass savagely by the roots. - </p> - <p> - “I'll lay a hundred guineas you have no regrets at leaving any of us, my - fine miss!” I cried, getting to my feet. “You would rather be a lady of - fashion than have the love of an honest man,—you who have the hearts - of too many as it is.” - </p> - <p> - Her eyes lighted, but with mirth. Laughing, she chose a little bunch of - the lilies and worked them into my coat. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, you silly goose!” she said; “I dote upon seeing you in a - temper.” - </p> - <p> - I stood between anger and God knows what other feelings, now starting - away, now coming back to her. But I always came back. - </p> - <p> - “You have ever said you would marry an earl, Dolly,” I said sadly. “I - believe you do not care for any of us one little bit.” - </p> - <p> - She turned away, so that for the moment I could not see her face, then - looked at me with exquisite archness over her shoulder. The low tones of - her voice were of a richness indescribable. 'Twas seldom she made use of - them. - </p> - <p> - “You will be coming to Oxford, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “I fear not, Dolly,” I replied soberly. “I fear not, now. Mr. Carvel is - too feeble for me to leave him.” - </p> - <p> - At that she turned to me, another mood coming like a gust of wind on the - Chesapeake. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, how I wish they were all like you!” she cried, with a stamp of her - foot. “Sometimes I despise gallantry. I hate the smooth compliments of - your macaronies. I thank Heaven you are big and honest and clumsy and—” - </p> - <p> - “And what, Dorothy?” I asked, bewildered. - </p> - <p> - “And stupid,” said she. “Now take me back, sir.” - </p> - <p> - We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice singing: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “'It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino.'” - </pre> - <p> - And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. - </p> - <p> - And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why not - confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me pacing - the deserted dock. At my back, across the open space, was the irregular - line of quaint, top-heavy shops since passed away, their sightless windows - barred by solid shutters of oak. The good ship Annapolis, which was to - carry my playmate to broader scenes, lay among the shipping, in the gray - roads just quickening with returning light. How my heart ached that - morning none shall ever know. But, as the sun shot a burning line across - the water, a new salt breeze sprang up and fanned a hope into flame. 'Twas - the very breeze that was to blow Dorothy down the bay. Sleepy apprentices - took down the shutters, and polished the windows until they shone again; - and chipper Mr. Denton Jacques, who did such a thriving business opposite, - presently appeared to wish me a bright good morning. - </p> - <p> - I knew that Captain Waring proposed to sail at ten of the clock; but after - breakfasting, I was of two minds whether to see the last of Miss Dorothy, - foreseeing a levee in her honour upon the ship. And so it proved. I had - scarce set out in a pungy from the dock, when I perceived a dozen boats - about the packet; and when I thrust my shoulders through the gangway, - there was the company gathered at the mainmast. They made a gay bit of - colour,—Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine Mechlin, - Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the other - gentlemen as smartly drest. The Dulany girls and the Fotheringay girls, - and I know not how many others, were there to see their friend off for - home. - </p> - <p> - In the midst of them was Dorothy, in a crimson silk capuchin, for we had - had one of our changes of weather. It was she who spied me as I was - drawing down the ladder again. - </p> - <p> - “It is Richard!” I heard her cry. “He has come at last.” - </p> - <p> - I gripped the rope tightly, sprang to the deck, and faced her as she came - out of the group, her lips parted, and the red of her cheeks vying with - the hood she wore. I took her hand silently. - </p> - <p> - “I had given you over, Richard,” she said, her eyes looking reproachfully - into mine. “Another ten minutes, and I should not have seen you.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, the topsails were already off the caps, the captain on deck, and - the men gathered at the capstan. - </p> - <p> - “Have you not enough to wish you good-by, Dolly?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “There must be a score of them,” said my lady, making a face. “But I wish - to talk to you.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Marmaduke, however, had no notion of allowing a gathering in his - daughter's honour to be broken up. It had been wickedly said of him, when - the news of his coming departure got around, that he feared Dorothy would - fall in love with some provincial beau before he could get her within - reach of a title. When he observed me talking to her, he hurried away from - the friends come to see his wife (he had none himself), and seizing me by - the arm implored me to take good care of my dear grandfather, and to write - them occasionally of the state of his health, and likewise how I fared. - </p> - <p> - “I think Dorothy will miss you more than any of them, Richard,” said he. - “Will you not, my dear?” - </p> - <p> - But she was gone. I, too, left him without ceremony, to speak to Mrs. - Manners, who was standing apart, looking shoreward. She started when I - spoke, and I saw that tears were in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Are you coming back soon, Mrs. Manners?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Richard! I don't know,” she answered, with a little choke in her - voice. “I hope it will be no longer than a year, for we are leaving all we - hold dear for a very doubtful pleasure.” - </p> - <p> - She bade me write to them, as Mr. Marmaduke had, only she was sincere. - Then the mate came, with his hand to his cap, respectfully to inform - visitors that the anchor was up and down. Albeit my spirits were low, - 'twas no small entertainment to watch the doctor and his rivals at their - adieus. Courtenay had at his command an hundred subterfuges to outwit his - fellows, and so manoeuvred that he was the last of them over the side. As - for me, luckily, I was not worth a thought. But as the doctor leaned over - her hand, I vowed in my heart that if Dorothy was to be gained only in - such a way I would not stoop to it. And in my heart I doubted it. I heard - Dr. Courtenay hint, looking meaningly at her cloak, that some of his - flowers would not have appeared amiss there. - </p> - <p> - “Why, doctor,” says my lady aloud, with a side glance at me, “the wisdom - of Solomon might not choose out of twenty baskets.” - </p> - <p> - And this was all the thanks he got for near a boat-load of roses! When at - length the impatient mate had hurried him off, Dolly turned to me. It was - not in me to say more than: - </p> - <p> - “Good-by, Dorothy. And do not forget your old playmate. He will never - forget you.” - </p> - <p> - We stood within the gangway. With a quick movement she threw open her - cloak, and pinned to her gown I saw a faded bunch of lilies of the valley. - </p> - <p> - I had but the time to press her hand. The boatswain's pipe whistled, and - the big ship was already sliding in the water as I leaped into my pungy, - which Hugo was holding to the ladder. We pulled off to where the others - waited. - </p> - <p> - But the Annapolis sailed away down the bay, and never another glimpse we - caught of my lady. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY - </h2> - <p> - If perchance, my dears, there creeps into this chronicle too much of an - old man's heart, I know he will be forgiven. What life ever worth living - has been without its tender attachment? Because, forsooth, my hair is - white now, does Bess flatter herself I do not know her secret? Or does - Comyn believe that these old eyes can see no farther than the spectacles - before them? Were it not for the lovers, my son, satins and broadcloths - had never been invented. And were it not for the lovers, what joys and - sorrows would we lack in our lives! - </p> - <p> - That was a long summer indeed. And tho' Wilmot House was closed, I often - rode over of a morning when the dew was on the grass. It cheered me to - smoke a pipe with old McAndrews, Mr. Manners's factor, who loved to talk - of Miss Dorothy near as much as I. He had served her grandfather, and - people said that had it not been for McAndrews, the Manners fortune had - long since been scattered, since Mr. Marmaduke knew nothing of anything - that he should. I could not hear from my lady until near the first of - October, and so I was fain to be content with memories—memories and - hard work. For I had complete charge of the plantation now. - </p> - <p> - My Uncle Grafton came twice or thrice, but without his family, Aunt - Caroline and Philip having declared their independence. My uncle's manner - to me was now of studied kindness, and he was at greater pains than before - to give me no excuse for offence. I had little to say to him. He spent his - visits reading to Mr. Carvel, who sat in his chair all the day long. Mr. - Allen came likewise, to perform the same office. - </p> - <p> - My contempt for the rector was grown more than ever. On my grandfather's - account, however, I refrained from quarrelling with him. And, when we were - alone, my plain speaking did not seem to anger him, or affect him in any - way. Others came, too. Such was the affection Mr. Carvel's friends bore - him that they did not desert him when he was no longer the companion he - had been in former years. We had more company than the summer before. - </p> - <p> - In the autumn a strange thing happened. When we had taken my grandfather - to the Hall in June, his dotage seemed to settle upon him. He became a - trembling old man, at times so peevish that we were obliged to summon with - an effort what he had been. He was suspicious and fault-finding with - Scipio and the other servants, though they were never so busy for his - wants. Mrs. Willis's dainties were often untouched, and he would - frequently sit for hours between slumber and waking, or mumble to himself - as I read the prints. But about the time of the equinoctial a great gale - came out of the south so strongly that the water rose in the river over - the boat landing; and the roof was torn from one of the curing-sheds. The - next morning dawned clear, and brittle, and blue. To my great surprise, - Mr. Carvel sent for me to walk with him about the place, that he might see - the damage with his own eyes. A huge walnut had fallen across the drive, - and when he came upon it he stopped abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “Old friend!” he cried, “have you succumbed? After all these years have - you dropped from the weight of a blow?” He passed his hand caressingly - along the trunk, and scarce ever had I seen him so affected. In truth, for - the instant I thought him deranged. He raised his cane above his shoulder - and struck the bark so heavily that the silver head sunk deep into the - wood. “Look you, Richard,” he said, the water coming into his eyes, “look - you, the heart of it is gone, lad; and when the heart is rotten 'tis time - for us to go. That walnut was a life friend, my son. We have grown - together,” he continued, turning from me to the giant and brushing his - cheeks, “but by God's good will we shall not die so, for my heart is still - as young as the days when you were sprouting.” - </p> - <p> - And he walked back to the house more briskly than he had come, refusing, - for the first time, my arm. And from that day, I say, he began to mend. - The lacing of red came again to his cheeks, and before we went back to - town he had walked with me to Master Dingley's tavern on the highroad, and - back. - </p> - <p> - We moved into Marlboro' Street the first part of November. I had seen my - lady off for England, wearing my faded flowers, the panniers of the fine - gentleman in a neglected pile at her cabin door. But not once had she - deigned to write me. It was McAndrews who told me of her safe arrival. In - Annapolis rumours were a-flying of conquests she had already made. I found - Betty Tayloe had had a letter, filled with the fashion in caps and gowns, - and the mention of more than one noble name. All of this being, for - unknown reasons, sacred, I was read only part of the postscript, in which - I figured: “The London Season was done almost before we arrived,” so it - ran. “We had but the Opportunity to pay our Humble Respects to their - Majesties; and appear at a few Drum-Majors and Garden Fetes. Now we are - off to Brighthelmstone, and thence, so Papa says, to Spa and the Continent - until the end of January. I am pining for news of Maryland, dearest Betty. - Address me in care of Mr. Ripley, Barrister, of Lincoln's Inn, and bid - Richard Carvel write me.” - </p> - <p> - “Which does not look as if she were coming back within the year,” said - Betty, as she poured me a dish of tea. - </p> - <p> - Alas, no! But I did not write. I tried and failed. And then I tried to - forget. I was constant at all the gayeties, gave every miss in town a - share of my attention, rode to hounds once a week at Whitehall or the - South River Club with a dozen young beauties. But cantering through the - winter mists 'twas Dolly, in her red riding-cloak and white beaver, I saw - beside me. None of them had her seat in the saddle, and none of them her - light hand on the reins. And tho' they lacked not fire and skill, they had - not my lady's dash and daring to follow over field and fallow, stream and - searing, and be in at the death with heightened colour, but never a look - away. - </p> - <p> - Then came the first assembly of the year. I got back from Bentley Manor, - where I had been a-visiting the Fotheringays, just in time to call for - Patty in Gloucester Street. - </p> - <p> - “Have you heard the news from abroad, Richard?” she asked, as I handed her - into my chariot. - </p> - <p> - “Never a line,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “Pho!” exclaimed Patty; “you tell me that! Where have you been hiding? - Then you shall not have it from me.” - </p> - <p> - I had little trouble, however, in persuading her. For news was a rare - luxury in those days, and Patty was plainly uncomfortable until she should - have it out. - </p> - <p> - “I would not give you the vapours to-night for all the world, Richard,” - she exclaimed. “But if you must,—Dr. Courtenay has had a letter from - Mr. Manners, who says that Dolly is to marry his Grace of Chartersea. - There now!” - </p> - <p> - “And I am not greatly disturbed,” I answered, with a fine, careless air. - </p> - <p> - The lanthorn on the chariot was burning bright. And I saw Patty look at - me, and laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed!” says she; “what a sex is that to which you belong. How ready are - men to deny us at the first whisper! And I thought you the most constant - of all. For my part, I credit not a word of it. 'Tis one of Mr. - Marmaduke's lies and vanities.” - </p> - <p> - “And for my part, I think it true as gospel,” I cried. “Dolly always held - a coronet above her colony, and all her life has dreamed of a duke.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay,” answered Patty, more soberly; “nay, you do her wrong. You will - discover one day that she is loyal to the core, tho' she has a fop of a - father who would serve his Grace's chocolate. We are all apt to talk, my - dear, and to say what we do not mean, as you are doing.” - </p> - <p> - “Were I to die to-morrow, I would repeat it,” I exclaimed. But I liked - Patty the better for what she had said. - </p> - <p> - “And there is more news, of less import,” she continued, as I was silent. - “The Thunderer dropped anchor in the roads to-day, and her officers will - be at the assembly. And Betty tells me there is a young lord among them,—la! - I have clean forgot the string of adjectives she used,—but she would - have had me know he was as handsome as Apollo, and so dashing and - diverting as to put Courtenay and all our wits to shame. She dined with - him at the Governor's.” - </p> - <p> - I barely heard her, tho' I had seen the man-o'-war in the harbour as I - sailed in that afternoon. - </p> - <p> - The assembly hall was filled when we arrived, aglow with candles and - a-tremble with music, the powder already flying, and the tables in the - recesses at either end surrounded by those at the cards. A lively scene, - those dances at the old Stadt House, but one I love best to recall with a - presence that endeared it to me. The ladies in flowered aprons and caps - and brocades and trains, and the gentlemen in brilliant coats, trimmed - with lace and stiffened with buckram. That night, as Patty had predicted, - there was a smart sprinkling of uniforms from the Thunderer. One of those - officers held my eye. He was as well-formed a lad, or man (for he was - both), as it had ever been my lot to see. He was neither tall nor short, - but of a good breadth. His fair skin was tanned by the weather, and he - wore his own wavy hair powdered, as was just become the fashion, and tied - with a ribbon behind. - </p> - <p> - “Mercy, Richard, that must be his Lordship. Why, his good looks are all - Betty claimed for them!” exclaimed Patty. Mr. Lloyd, who was standing by, - overheard her, and was vastly amused at her downright way. - </p> - <p> - “I will fetch him directly, Miss Swain,” said he, “as I have done for a - dozen ladies before you.” And fetch him he did. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Swain, this is my Lord Comyn,” said he. “Your Lordship, one of the - boasts of our province.” - </p> - <p> - Patty grew red as the scarlet with which his Lordship's coat was lined. - She curtseyed, while he made a profound bow. - </p> - <p> - “What! Another boast, Mr. Lloyd!” he cried. “Miss Swain is the tenth I - have met. But I vow they excel as they proceed.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you must meet no more, my Lord,” said Patty, laughing at Mr. Lloyd's - predicament. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, then, I will not,” declared Comyn. “I protest I am satisfied.” - </p> - <p> - Then I was presented. He had won me on the instant with his open smile and - frank, boyish manner. - </p> - <p> - “And this is young Mr. Carvel, whom I hear wins every hunt in the colony?” - said he. - </p> - <p> - “I fear you have been misinformed, my Lord,” I replied, flashing with - pleasure nevertheless. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, my Lord,” Mr. Lloyd struck in; “Richard could ride down the devil - himself, and he were a fox. You will see for yourself to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “I pray we may not start the devil,” said his Lordship; “or I shall be - content to let Mr. Carvel run him down.” - </p> - <p> - This Comyn was a man after my own fancy, as, indeed, he took the fancy of - every one at the ball. Though a viscount in his own right, he gave himself - not half the airs over us provincials as did many of his messmates. Even - Mr. Jacques, who was sour as last year's cider over the doings of - Parliament, lost his heart, and asked why we were not favoured in America - with more of his sort. - </p> - <p> - By a great mischance Lord Comyn had fallen into the tender clutches of my - Aunt Caroline. It seemed she had known his uncle, the Honourable Arthur - Comyn, in New York; and now she undertook to be responsible for his - Lordship's pleasure at Annapolis, that he might meet only those of the - first fashion. Seeing him talking to Patty, my aunt rose abruptly from her - loo and made toward us, all paint and powder and patches, her chin in the - air, which barely enabled her to look over Miss Swain's head. - </p> - <p> - “My Lord,” she cries, “I will show you our colonial reel, which is about - to begin, and I warrant you is gayer than any dance you have at home.” - </p> - <p> - “Your very devoted, Mrs. Carvel,” says his Lordship, with a bow, “but Miss - Swain has done me the honour.” - </p> - <p> - “O Lud!” cries my aunt, sweeping the room, “I vow I cannot keep pace with - the misses nowadays. Is she here?” - </p> - <p> - “She was but a moment since, ma'am,” replied Comyn, instantly, with a - mischievous look at me, while poor Patty stood blushing not a yard - distant. - </p> - <p> - There were many who overheard, and who used their fans and their napkins - to hide their laughter at the very just snub Mrs. Grafton had received. - And I wondered at the readiness with which he had read her character, - liking him all the better. But my aunt was not to be disabled by this,—not - she. After the dance she got hold of him, keeping him until certain - designing ladies with daughters took him away; their names charity forbids - me to mention. But in spite of them all he contrived to get Patty for - supper, when I took Betty Tayloe, and we were very merry at table - together. His Lordship proved more than able to take care of himself, and - contrived to send Philip about his business when he pulled up a chair - beside us. He drank a health to Miss Swain, and another to Miss Tayloe, - and was on the point of filling a third glass to the ladies of Maryland, - when he caught himself and brought his hand down on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Gad's life!” cried he, “but I think she's from Maryland, too!” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” demanded the young ladies, in a breath. - </p> - <p> - But I knew. - </p> - <p> - “Who!” exclaimed Comyn. “Who but Miss Dorothy Manners! Isn't she from - Maryland?” And marking our astonished nods, he continued: “Why, she - descended upon Mayfair when they were so weary for something to worship, - and they went mad over her in a s'ennight. I give you Miss Manners!” - </p> - <p> - “And you know her!” exclaimed Patty, her voice quivering with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Faith!” said his Lordship, laughing. “For a whole month I was her most - devoted, as were we all at Almack's. I stayed until the last minute for a - word with her,—which I never got, by the way,—and paid near a - guinea a mile for a chaise to Portsmouth as a consequence. Already she has - had her choice from a thousand a year up, and I tell you our English - ladies are green with envy.” - </p> - <p> - I was stunned, you may be sure. And yet, I might have expected it. - </p> - <p> - “If your Lordship has left your heart in England,” said Betty, with a - smile, “I give you warning you must not tell our ladies here of it.” - </p> - <p> - “I care not who knows it, Miss Tayloe,” he cried. That fustian, - insincerity, was certainly not one of his faults. “I care not who knows - it. To pass her chariot is to have your heart stolen, and you must needs - run after and beg mercy. But, ladies,” he added, his eye twinkling; - “having seen the women of your colony, I marvel no longer at Miss - Manners's beauty.” - </p> - <p> - He set us all a-laughing. - </p> - <p> - “I fear you were not born a diplomat, sir,” says Patty. “You agree that we - are beautiful, yet to hear that one of us is more so is small - consolation.” - </p> - <p> - “We men turn as naturally to Miss Manners as plants to the sun, ma'am,” he - replied impulsively. “Yet none of us dare hope for alliance with so - brilliant and distant an object. I make small doubt those are Mr. Carvel's - sentiments, and still he seems popular enough with the ladies. How now, - sir? How now, Mr. Carvel? You have yet to speak on so tender a subject.” - </p> - <p> - My eyes met Patty's. - </p> - <p> - “I will be no more politic than you, my Lord,” I said boldly, “nor will I - make a secret of it that I adore Miss Manners full as much.” - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, Richard!” cries Patty; and “Good!” cries his Lordship, while Betty - claps her hands. And then Comyn swung suddenly round in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Richard Carvel!” says he. “By the seven chimes I have heard her mention - your name. The devil fetch my memory!” - </p> - <p> - “My name!” I exclaimed, in surprise, and prodigiously upset. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he answered, with his hand to his head; “some such thought was in - my mind this afternoon when I heard of your riding. Stay! I have it! I was - at Ampthill, Ossory's place, just before I left. Some insupportable - coxcomb was boasting a marvellous run with the hounds nigh across - Hertfordshire, and Miss Manners brought him up with a round turn and a - half hitch by relating one of your exploits, Richard Carvel. And take my - word on't she got no small applause. She told how you had followed a fox - over one of your rough provincial counties, which means three of - Hertfordshire, with your arm broken, by Heaven! and how they lifted you - off at the death. And, Mr. Carvel,” said my Lord, generously, looking at - my flushed face, “you must give me your hand for that.” - </p> - <p> - So Dorothy in England had thought of me at least. But what booted it if - she were to marry a duke! My thoughts began to whirl over all Comyn had - said of her so that I scarce heard a question Miss Tayloe had put. - </p> - <p> - “Marry Chartersea! That profligate pig!” Comyn was saying. “She would as - soon marry a chairman or a chimneysweep, I'm thinking. Why, Miss Tayloe, - Sir Charles Grandison himself would scarce suit her!” - </p> - <p> - “Good lack!” said Betty, “I think Sir Charles would be the very last for - Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 3. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. MR. ALLEN SHOWS HIS HAND - </h2> - <p> - So Dorothy's beauty had taken London by storm, even as it had conquered - Annapolis! However, 'twas small consolation to me to hear his Grace of - Chartersea called a pig and a profligate while better men danced her - attendance in Mayfair. Nor, in spite of what his Lordship had said, was I - quite easy on the score of the duke. It was in truth no small honour to - become a duchess. If Mr. Marmaduke had aught to say, there was an end to - hope. She would have her coronet. But in that hour of darkness I counted - upon my lady's spirit. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Courtenay came to the assembly very late, with a new fashion of - pinchbeck buckles on his pumps and a new manner of taking snuff. (I caught - Fotheringay practising this by the stairs shortly after.) Always an - important man, the doctor's prominence had been increased that day by the - letter he had received. He was too thorough a courtier to profess any - grief over Miss Manners's match, and went about avowing that he had always - predicted a duke for Miss Dorothy. And he drew a deal of pleasure from the - curiosity of those who begged but one look at the letter. Show it, indeed! - For no consideration. A private communication from one gentleman to - another must be respected. Will Fotheringay swore the doctor was a sly - dog, and had his own reasons for keeping it to himself. - </p> - <p> - The doctor paid his compliment to the captain of the Thunderer, and to his - Lordship; hoped that he would see them at the meet on the morrow, tho' his - gout forbade his riding to hounds. He saluted me in the most friendly way, - for I played billiards with him at the Coffee House now, and he won my - money. He had pronounced my phaeton to be as well appointed as any - equipage in town, and had done me the honour to drive out with me on - several occasions. It was Betty that brought him humiliation that evening. - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of the soar our Pandora hath taken, Miss Betty?” says - he. “From a Maryland manor to a ducal palace. 'Tis a fable, egad! No - less!” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I think it is,” retorted Betty. “Mark me, doctor, Dorothy will - not put up an instant with a roue and a brute.” - </p> - <p> - “A roue!” cries he, “and a brute! What the plague, Miss Tayloe! I vow I do - not understand you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then ask my Lord Comyn, who knows your Duke of Chartersea,” said Betty. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Courtenay's expression was worth a pistole. - </p> - <p> - “Comyn know him!” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - “That he does,” replied Betty, laughing. “His Lordship says Chartersea is - a pig and a profligate, and I remember not what else. And that Dolly will - not look at him. And so little Mr. Marmaduke may go a-hunting for another - title.” - </p> - <p> - No wonder I had little desire for dancing that night! I wandered out of - the assembly-room and through the silent corridors of the Stadt House, - turning over and over again what I had heard, and picturing Dorothy - reigning over the macaronies of St. James's Street. She had said nothing - of this in her letter to Betty, and had asked me to write to her. But now, - with a duke to refuse or accept, could she care to hear from her old - playmate? I took no thought of the time, until suddenly my conscience told - me I had neglected Patty. - </p> - <p> - As I entered the hall I saw her at the far end of it talking to Mr. Allen. - This I thought strange, for I knew she disliked him. Lord Comyn and Mr. - Carroll, the barrister, and Singleton, were standing by, listening. By the - time I was halfway across to them the rector turned away. I remember - thinking afterwards that he changed colour when he said: “Your servant, - Mr. Richard.” But I thought nothing of it at the time, and went on to - Patty. - </p> - <p> - “I have come for a country dance, before we go, Patty,” I said. - </p> - <p> - Then something in her mien struck me. Her eyes expressed a pain I had - remarked in them before only when she spoke to me of Tom, and her lips - were closed tightly. She flushed, and paled, and looked from Singleton to - Mr. Carroll. They and his Lordship remained silent. - </p> - <p> - “I—I cannot, Richard. I am going home,” she said, in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “I will see if the chariot is here,” I answered, surprised, but thinking - of Tom. - </p> - <p> - She stopped me. - </p> - <p> - “I am going with Mr. Carroll,” she said. - </p> - <p> - I hope a Carvel never has to be rebuffed twice, nor to be humbled by - craving an explanation before a company. I was confounded that Patty - should treat me thus, when I had done nothing to deserve it. As I made for - the door, burning and indignant, I felt as tho' every eye in the room was - upon me.' Young Harvey drove me that night. - </p> - <p> - “Marlboro' Street, Mr. Richard?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Coffee House,” replied I, that place coming first into my head. - </p> - <p> - Young Harvey seldom took liberties; but he looked down from the box. - </p> - <p> - “Better home, sir; your pardon, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “D—n it!” I cried, “drive where I bid you!” - </p> - <p> - I pulled down the fore-glass, though the night was cold, and began to cast - about for the cause of Patty's action. And then it was the rector came to - my mind. Yes, he had been with her just before I came up, and I made sure - on the instant that my worthy instructor was responsible for the trouble. - I remembered that I had quarrelled with him the morning before I had gone - to Bentley Manor, and threatened to confess his villany and my deceit to - Mr. Carvel. He had answered me with a sneer and a dare. I knew than Patty - put honour and honesty before all else in the world, and that she would - not have suffered my friendship for a day had she believed me to lack - either. But she, who knew me so well, was not likely to believe anything - he might say without giving me the chance to clear myself. And what could - he have told her? - </p> - <p> - I felt my anger growing big within me, until I grew afraid of what I would - do if I were tempted. I had a long score and a heavy score against this - rector of St. Anne's,—a score that had been gathering these years. - And I felt that my uncle was somewhere behind him; that the two of them - were plotters against me, even as Harvey had declared; albeit my Uncle - Grafton was little seen in his company now. And finally, in a sinister - flash of revelation, came the thought that Grafton himself was at the back - of this deception of my grandfather, as to my principles. Fool that I was, - it had never occurred to me before. But how was he to gain by it? Did he - hope that Mr. Carvel, in a fit of anger, would disinherit me when he found - I had deceived him? Yes. And so had left the matter in abeyance near these - two years, that the shock might be the greater when it came. I recalled - now, with a shudder, that never since the spring of my grandfather's - illness had my uncle questioned me upon my politics. I was seized with a - fit of fury. I suspected that Mr. Allen would be at the Coffee House after - the assembly. And I determined to seize the chance at once and have it out - with him then and there. - </p> - <p> - The inn was ablaze, but as yet deserted; Mr. Claude expectant. He bowed me - from my chariot door, and would know what took me from the ball. I threw - him some short answer, bade Harvey go home, saying that I would have some - fellow light me to Marlboro' Street when I thought proper. And coming into - the long room I flung aside my greatcoat and commanded a flask of Mr. - Stephen Bordley's old sherry, some of which Mr. Claude had obtained at - that bachelor's demise. - </p> - <p> - The wine was scarce opened before I heard some sort of stir at the front, - and two servants in a riding livery of scarlet and white hurried in to - seek Mr. Claude. The sight of them sufficed mine host, for he went out as - fast as his legs would go, giving the bell a sharp pull as he passed the - door; and presently I heard him complimenting two gentlemen into the - house. The voice of one I knew,—being no other than Captain - Clapsaddle's; and him I had not seen for the past six months. I was just - risen to my feet when they came in at the door beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Richard!” cried the captain, and grasped my hand in both his own. I - returned his pressure, too much pleased to speak. Then his eye was caught - by my finery. - </p> - <p> - “So ho!” says he, shaking his head at me for a sad rogue. “Wine and women - and fine clothes, and not nineteen, or I mistake me. It was so with - Captain Jack, who blossomed in a week; and few could vie with him, I - warrant you, after he made his decision. But bless me!” he went on, - drawing back, “the lad looks mature, and a fair two inches broader than - last spring. But why are you not at the assembly, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - “I have but now come from there, sir,” I replied, not caring in the - presence of a stranger to enter into reasons. - </p> - <p> - At my answer the captain turned from me to the gentleman behind him, who - had been regarding us both as we talked. There are some few men in the - world, I thank God for it, who bear their value on their countenance; who - stand unmistakably for qualities which command respect and admiration and - love! We seem to recognize such men, and to wonder where we have seen them - before. In reality we recognize the virtues they represent. So it was with - him I saw in front of me, and by his air and carriage I marked him then - and there as a man born to great things. You all know his face, my dears, - and I pray God it may live in the sight of those who come after you, for - generation upon generation! - </p> - <p> - “Colonel Washington,” said the captain, “this is Mr. Richard Carvel, the - son of Captain Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Washington did not speak at once. He stood regarding me a full minute, - his eye seeming to penetrate the secrets of my life. And I take pride in - saying it was an eye I could meet without flinching. - </p> - <p> - “Your father was a brave man, sir,” he said soberly, “and it seems you - favour him. I am happy in knowing the son.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment he stood debating whether he would go to the house of one of - his many friends in Annapolis, knowing that they would be offended when - they learned he had stopped at the inn. He often came to town, indeed, but - seldom tarried long; and it had never been my fortune to see him. Being - arrived unexpectedly, and obliged to be away early on the morrow, he - decided to order rooms of Mr. Claude, sat down with me at the table, and - commenced supper. They had ridden from Alexandria. I gathered from their - conversation that they were on their way to Philadelphia upon some private - business, the nature of which, knowing Captain Daniel's sentiments and - those of Colonel Washington, I went not far to guess. The country was in a - stir about the Townshend duties; and there being some rumour that all - these were to be discharged save only that on tea, anxiety prevailed in - our middle colonies that the merchants of New York would abandon the - association formed and begin importation. It was of some mission to these - merchants that I suspected them. - </p> - <p> - As I sat beside Colonel Washington, I found myself growing calmer, and - ashamed of my lack of self-control. Unconsciously, when we come in contact - with the great of character, we mould our minds to their qualities. His - very person seemed to exhale, not sanctity, but virility. I felt that this - man could command himself and others. In his presence self-command came to - me, as a virtue gone out of him. 'Twas not his speech, I would have you - know, that took hold of me. He was by no means a brilliant talker, and I - had the good fortune to see him at his ease, since he and the captain were - old friends. As they argued upon the questions of the day, the colonel did - not seek to impress by words, or to fascinate by manner. His opinions were - calm and moderate, and appeared to me so just as to admit of no appeal. He - scrupled not to use a forceful word when occasion demanded. And yet, now - and then, he had a lively way about him with all his dignity. When he had - finished his supper he bade Mr. Claude bring another bottle of Mr. - Bordley's sherry, having tested mine, and addressed himself to me. - </p> - <p> - He would know what my pursuits had been; for my father's sake, what were - my ambitions? He questioned me about Mr. Carvel's plantation, of which he - had heard, and appeared pleased with the answers I gave as to its - management and methods. Captain Daniel was no less so. Mr. Washington had - agriculture at his finger ends, and gave me some advice which he had found - serviceable at Mount Vernon. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a pity, Richard,” said he, smiling thoughtfully at the captain, - “'tis a pity we have no service afield open to our young men. One of your - spirit and bearing should be of that profession. Captain Jack was as brave - and dashing an officer as I ever laid eyes on.” - </p> - <p> - I hesitated, the tingling at the compliment. - </p> - <p> - “I begin to think I was born for the sea, sir,” I answered, at length. - </p> - <p> - “What!” cried the captain; “what news is this, Richard? 'Slife! how has - this come about?” - </p> - <p> - My anger subdued by Mr. Washington's presence, a curious mood had taken - its place. A foolish mood, I thought it, but one of feeling things to - come. - </p> - <p> - “I believe I shall one day take part in a great sea-fight,” I said. And, - tho' ashamed to speak of it, I told him of Stanwix's prophecy that I - should pace the decks of a man-o'-war. - </p> - <p> - “A pox on Stanwix!” said the captain, “an artful old seadog! I never yet - knew one who did not think the sun rises and sets from poop to forecastle, - who did not wheedle with all the young blood to get them to follow a - bow-legged profession.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Washington laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Judge not, Clapsaddle,” said he; “here are two of us trying to get the - lad for our own bow-legged profession. We are as hot as Methodists to - convert.” - </p> - <p> - “Small conversion he needed when I was here to watch him, colonel. And he - rides with any trooper I ever laid eyes on. Why, sir, I myself threw him - on a saddle before he could well-nigh walk, and 'twere a waste of material - to put him in the navy.” - </p> - <p> - “But what this old man said of a flag not yet seen in heaven or earth - interests me,” said Colonel Washington. “Tell me,” he added with a - penetration we both remarked, “tell me, does your Captain Stanwix follow - the times? Is he a man to read his prints and pamphlets? In other words, - is he a man who might predict out of his own heated imagination?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir,” I answered, “he nods over his tobacco the day long. And I will - make bold to swear, he has never heard of the Stamp Act.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis strange,” said the colonel, musing; “I have heard of this second - sight—have seen it among my own negroes. But I heartily pray that - this may be but the childish fancy of an old mariner. How do you interpret - it, sir?” he added, addressing himself to me. - </p> - <p> - “If a prophecy, I can interpret it in but one way,” I began, and there I - stopped. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure,” said Mr. Washington. He studied me awhile as though weighing - my judgment, and went on: “Needless to say, Richard, that such a service, - if it comes, will not be that of his Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “And it were, colonel, I would not embark in it a step,” I cried. - </p> - <p> - He laughed. - </p> - <p> - “The lad has his father's impulse,” he said to Captain Daniel. “But I - thought old Mr. Carvel to be one of the warmest loyalists in the - colonies.” - </p> - <p> - I bit my lip; for, since that unhappy deception of Mr. Carvel, I had not - meant to be drawn into an avowal of my sentiments. But I had, alas, - inherited a hasty tongue. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Washington,” said the captain, “old Mr. Carvel has ever been a good - friend to me. And, though I could not but perceive which way the lad was - tending, I had held it but a poor return for friendship had I sought by - word or deed to bring him to my way of thinking. Nor have I ever suffered - his views in my presence.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear sir, I honour you for it,” put in the colonel, warmly. - </p> - <p> - “It is naught to my credit,” returned the captain. “I would not, for the - sake of my party and beliefs, embitter what remains of my old friend's - life.” - </p> - <p> - I drew a long breath and drained the full glass before me. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Daniel!” I cried, “you must hear me now. I have been waiting your - coming these months. And if Colonel Washington gives me leave, I will - speak before him.” - </p> - <p> - The colonel bade me proceed, avowing that Captain Carvel's son should have - his best assistance. - </p> - <p> - With that I told them the whole story of Mr. Allen's villany. How I had - been sent to him because of my Whig sentiments, and for thrashing a Tory - schoolmaster and his flock. This made the gentlemen laugh, tho' Captain - Daniel had heard it before. I went on to explain how Mr. Carvel had fallen - ill, and was like to die; and how Mr. Allen, taking advantage of his - weakness when he rose from his bed, had gone to him with the lie of having - converted me. But when I told of the scene between my grandfather and me - at Carvel Hall, of the tears of joy that the old gentleman shed, and of - how he had given me Firefly as a reward, the captain rose from his chair - and looked out of the window into the blackness, and swore a great oath - all to himself. And the expression I saw come into the colonel's eyes I - shall never forget. - </p> - <p> - “And you feared the consequences upon your grandfather's health?” he asked - gravely. - </p> - <p> - “So help me God!” I answered, “I truly believe that to have undeceived him - would have proved fatal.” - </p> - <p> - “And so, for the sake of the sum he receives for teaching you,” cried the - captain, with another oath, “this scoundrelly clergyman has betrayed you - into a lie. A scheme, by God's life! worthy of a Machiavelli!” - </p> - <p> - “I have seen too many of his type in our parishes,” said Mr. Washington; - “and yet the bishop of London seems powerless. And so used have we become - in these Southern colonies to tippling and gaming parsons, that I warrant - his people accept him as nothing out of the common.” - </p> - <p> - “He is more discreet than the run of them, sir. His parishioners dislike - him, not because of his irregularities, but because he is attempting to - obtain All Saints from his Lordship, in addition to St. Anne's. He is - thought too greedy.” - </p> - <p> - He was silent, his brow a little furrowed, and drummed with his fingers - upon the table. - </p> - <p> - “But this I cannot reconcile,” said he, presently, “that the reward is out - of all proportion to the risk. Such a clever rascal must play for higher - stakes.” - </p> - <p> - I was amazed at his insight. And for the moment was impelled to make a - clean breast of my suspicions,—nay, of my convictions of the whole - devil's plot. But I had no proofs. I remembered that to the colonel my - uncle was a gentleman of respectability and of wealth, and a member of his - Excellency's Council. That to accuse him of scheming for my inheritance - would gain me nothing in Mr. Washington's esteem. And I caught myself - before I had said aught of Mr. Allen's conduct that evening. - </p> - <p> - “Have you confronted this rector with his perfidy, Richard?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I have, colonel, at my first opportunity.” And I related how Mr. Allen - had come to the Hall, and what I had said to him, and how he had behaved. - And finally told of the picquet we now had during lessons, not caring to - shield myself. Both listened intently, until the captain broke out. Mr. - Washington's indignation was the stronger for being repressed. - </p> - <p> - “I will call him out!” cried Captain Daniel, fingering his sword, as was - his wont when angered; “I will call him out despite his gown, or else - horse him publicly!” - </p> - <p> - “No, my dear sir, you will do nothing of the kind,” said the colonel. “You - would gain nothing by it for the lad, and lose much. Such rascals walk in - water, and are not to be tracked. He cannot be approached save through Mr. - Lionel Carvel himself, and that channel, for Mr. Carvel's sake, must be - closed.” - </p> - <p> - “But he must be shown up!” cried the captain. - </p> - <p> - “What good will you accomplish?” said Mr. Washington; “Lord Baltimore is - notorious, and will not remove him. Nay, sir, you must find a way to get - the lad from his influence.” And he asked me how was my grandfather's - health at present. - </p> - <p> - I said that he had mended beyond my hopes. - </p> - <p> - “And does he seem to rejoice that you are of the King's party?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir. Concerning politics he seems strangely apathetic, which makes - me fear he is not so well as he appears. All his life he has felt - strongly.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I beg you, Richard, take pains to keep neutral. Nor let any passing - event, however great, move you to speech or action.” - </p> - <p> - The captain shook his head doubtfully, as tho' questioning the ability of - one of my temper to do this. - </p> - <p> - “I do not trust myself, sir,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He rose, declaring it was past his hour for bed, and added some kind - things which I shall cherish in my memory. As he was leaving he laid his - hand on my shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “One word of advice, my lad,” he said. “If by any chance your convictions - are to come to your grandfather's ears, let him have them from your own - lips.” And he bade me good night. - </p> - <p> - The captain tarried but a moment longer. - </p> - <p> - “I have a notion who is to blame for this, Richard,” he said. “When I come - back from New York, we shall see what we shall see.” - </p> - <p> - “I fear he is too slippery for a soldier to catch,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He went away to bed, telling me to be prudent, and mind the colonel's - counsel until he returned from the North. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. THE VOLTE COUPE - </h2> - <p> - I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for my - wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me. But - just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and I sat - down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon myself, - but to stay awhile. - </p> - <p> - The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me. - </p> - <p> - “Ho!” he cried, “will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?” - </p> - <p> - He was already purple with wine. - </p> - <p> - “God save me from you and your kind!” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!” he exclaimed, as he went off - down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And they - were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There was the - captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two brother - officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased to be found - in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who had followed my - Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have tracked him to - perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain, leering and - hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of drunkenness as I had - rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and smiled, and was pushing - his chair back, when something Collinson said seemed to restrain him. - </p> - <p> - I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though I - could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some French - cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was making me - dangerous. - </p> - <p> - I forgot the advice I had received, and remembered only the months he had - goaded me. And I was even beginning to speculate how I could best pick a - quarrel with him on any issue but politics, when an unexpected incident - diverted me. Of a sudden the tall, ungainly form of Percy Singleton filled - the doorway, wrapped in a greatcoat. He swept the room at a glance, and - then strode rapidly toward the corner where I sat. - </p> - <p> - “I had thought to find you here,” he said, and dropped into a chair beside - me. I offered him wine, but he refused. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” he went on, “what has Patty done?” - </p> - <p> - “What have I done that I should be publicly insulted?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Insulted!” says he, “and did she insult you? She said nothing of that.” - </p> - <p> - “What brings you here, then?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Not to talk, Richard,” he said quietly, “'tis no time tonight. I came to - fetch you home. Patty sent me.” - </p> - <p> - Patty sent him! Why had Patty sent him? But this I did not ask, for I felt - the devil within me. - </p> - <p> - “We must first finish this bottle,” said I, offhand, “and then I have a - little something to be done which I have set my heart upon. After that I - will go with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Richard, Richard, will you never learn prudence? What is it you speak - of?” - </p> - <p> - I drew my sword and laid it upon the table. - </p> - <p> - “I mean to spit that eel of a rector,” said I, “or he will bear a slap in - the face. And you must see fair play.” - </p> - <p> - Singleton seized my coat, at the same time grasping the hilt of my sword - with the other hand. But neither my words nor my action had gone unnoticed - by the other end of the room. The company there fell silent awhile, and - then we heard Captain Collinson talking in even, drawling tones. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis strange,” said he, “what hot sparks a man meets in these colonies. - They should be stamped out. His Majesty pampers these d—d Americans, - is too lenient by far. Gentlemen, this is how I would indulge them!” He - raised a closed fist and brought it down on the board. - </p> - <p> - He spoke to Tories, but he forgot that Tories were Americans. In those - days only the meanest of the King's party would listen to such without - protest from an Englishman. But some of the meaner sort were there: Philip - and Tom laughed, and Mr. Allen, and my Lord's sycophants. Fotheringay and - some others of sense shook their heads one to another, comprehending that - Captain Collinson was somewhat gone in wine. For, indeed, he had not - strayed far from the sideboard at the assembly. Comyn made a motion to - rise. - </p> - <p> - “It is already past three bells, sir, and a hunt to-morrow,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “From bottle to saddle, and from saddle to bottle, my Lord. We must have - our pleasure ashore, and sleep at sea,” and the captain tipped his flask - with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord. - “We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason, and - before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the customs - served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word, 'twas as - good as a play.” - </p> - <p> - I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the - cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept - over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and - Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice I had - reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from Fotheringay - on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the floor. Then I drew - back, amazed. - </p> - <p> - I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me. - </p> - <p> - The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's—Comyn - jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson—that none save - me guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was - up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me. - </p> - <p> - “Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you,” said I, - with what coolness I could muster. “But there is one here I would give - much for a chance to run through.” - </p> - <p> - And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and - movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face; yet - he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by the - Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us with a - bow, his cheek red where I had struck him. - </p> - <p> - “It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “As you please, my Lord,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “It boots not who crosses with him,” Captain Collinson put in. “His - Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that he - is opposed by a loyal servant of the King.” - </p> - <p> - I wheeled on him for this. - </p> - <p> - “I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and - murder, sir,” I answered, “nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes - cannot be loyal save through interest.” - </p> - <p> - He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the - quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother as - against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been - reared. - </p> - <p> - “Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn,” cried the captain, with an - oath. “He seems to think his importance sufficient.” - </p> - <p> - But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should strike - him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was right. - </p> - <p> - “You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Nay,” I answered, “and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through - with it at once. A large room upstairs is at our disposal; and there is a - hunt to-morrow which one of us may like to attend.” - </p> - <p> - There was a laugh at this, in which his Lordship joined. - </p> - <p> - “I would to God, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “that I had no quarrel with you!” - </p> - <p> - “Amen to that, my Lord,” I replied; “there are others here I would rather - fight.” And I gave a meaning look at Mr. Allen. I was of two minds to - announce the scurvy trick he had played, but saw that I would lose rather - than gain by the attempt. Up to that time the wretch had not spoken a - word; now he pushed himself forward, though well clear of me. - </p> - <p> - “I think it my duty as Mr. Carvel's tutor, gentlemen, to protest against - this matter proceeding,” he said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “Nor - can I be present at it. Mr. Carvel is young and, besides, is not himself - with liquor. And, in the choice of politics, he knows not which leg he - stands upon. My Lord and gentlemen, your most humble and devoted.” - </p> - <p> - He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left the - tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep in his - chair. - </p> - <p> - Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve his - Lordship, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some one. - 'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had passed from my mind. - </p> - <p> - He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And - Will Fotheringay came forward. - </p> - <p> - “I will act, Richard, if you allow me,” he said. “I would have you know I - am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party. But I - admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy with that - which prompted his act.” - </p> - <p> - It was a noble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked him with - warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his Lordship! - </p> - <p> - Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told - that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private - room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party of - such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards. Presently - we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment below. - </p> - <p> - We gathered about the table and made shift at loo until the fellow had - retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and - Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my - anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed - between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of - Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man—like a - Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then the - clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter - floated up to us from below. - </p> - <p> - And Comyn,—of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the - downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her tears - until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by the lad - before me. What a picture was he in his spotless shirt with the ruffles, - his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest! - </p> - <p> - I had scarce felt his Lordship's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a - pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint or - trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was - buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore that - I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a pin-cushion - twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals thrust into a pit - with nothing but good-will between them, and those without force them into - anger and a deadly battle. And so it was, unconsciously, between Comyn and - me. I forgot presently that I was not dealing with Captain Collinson, and - my feelings went into my sword. Comyn began to press me, nor did I give - back. And then, before it came over me that we had to do with life and - death, he was upon me with a volte coupe, feinting in high carte and - thrusting in low tierce, his point passing through a fold in my shirt. And - I were not alive to write these words had I not leaped out of his measure. - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, Richard!” cried Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - “Well made, gads life!” from Mr. Furness. - </p> - <p> - We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the - matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows I was - not used to play a passive part. I began to go carefully, but fiercely; - tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain Daniel had - taught me,—flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me even, and - in truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I had him in - the sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick for me. We - were sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in my ears I - could scarce hear the applause of the seconds. - </p> - <p> - What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again - the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it he did, - this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that intuition - which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of his adversary. - Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this coupe. I - parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and my point - at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the space of a - second. My sword rang clattering on the floor. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one - wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the - rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp - pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock - striking the half-hour. - </p> - <p> - I was blessed with a sturdy health such as few men enjoy, and came to - myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And the - first face I beheld was that of Colonel Washington. I heard him speaking - in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding. - </p> - <p> - “I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air. - Fetch some linen!” - </p> - <p> - “Now God be praised!” I heard Captain Daniel cry. - </p> - <p> - With that his Lordship began to tear his own shirt into strips, and the - captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound - and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel assisting. When Mr. - Washington had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and - dishevelled, at my feet. - </p> - <p> - “You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “With all my heart, Colonel Washington!” cried his Lordship. “I owe my - life to his generosity.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel dropped his sword, rather than run me through.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll warrant!” Captain Daniel put in; “'Od's heart! The lad has skill to - point the eye of a button. I taught him myself.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Washington stood up and laid his hand on the captain's arm. - </p> - <p> - “He is Jack Carvel over again,” I heard him say, in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - I tried to struggle to my feet, to speak, but he restrained me. And - sending for his servants, he ordered them to have his baggage removed from - the Roebuck, which was the best bed in the house. At this moment the door - opened, and Mr. Swain came in hurriedly. - </p> - <p> - “I pray you, gentlemen,” he cried, “and he is fit to be moved, you will - let me take him to Marlboro' Street. I have a chariot at the door.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. OF WHICH THE RECTOR HAS THE WORST - </h2> - <p> - 'Twas late when I awoke the next day with something of a dull ache in my - neck, and a prodigious stiffness, studying the pleatings of the bed canopy - over my head. And I know not how long I lay idly thus when I perceived - Mrs. Willis moving quietly about, and my grandfather sitting in the - armchair by the window, looking into Freshwater Lane. As my eyes fell upon - him my memory came surging back,—first of the duel, then of its - cause. And finally, like a leaden weight, the thought of the deception I - had practised upon him, of which he must have learned ere this. Nay, I was - sure from the troubled look of his face that he knew of it. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel,” I said. - </p> - <p> - At the sound of my voice he got hastily from his chair and hurried to my - side. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” he answered, taking my hand, “Richard!” - </p> - <p> - I opened my mouth to speak, to confess. But he prevented me, the tears - filling the wrinkles around his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, lad, nay. We will not talk of it. I know all.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Allen has been here—” I began. - </p> - <p> - “And be d—d to him! Be d—d to him for a wolf in sheep's - clothing!” shouted my grandfather, his manner shifting so suddenly to - anger that I was taken back. “So help me God I will never set foot in St. - Anne's while he is rector. Nor shall he come to this house!” - </p> - <p> - And he took three or four disorderly turns about the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” he continued more quietly, with something of a sigh, “I might have - known how stubborn your mind should be. That you was never one to blow - from the north one day and from the south the next. I deny not that there - be good men and able of your way of thinking: Colonel Washington, for one, - whom I admire and honour; and our friend Captain Daniel. They have been - here to-day, Richard, and I promise you were good advocates.” - </p> - <p> - Then I knew that I was forgiven. And I could have thrown myself at Mr. - Carvel's feet for happiness. - </p> - <p> - “Has Colonel Washington spoken in my favour, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “That he has. He is upon some urgent business for the North, I believe, - which he delayed for your sake. Both he and the captain were in my - dressing-room before I was up, ahead of that scurrilous clergyman, who was - for pushing his way to my bed-curtains. Ay, the two of them were here at - nigh dawn this morning, and Mr. Allen close after them. And I own that - Captain Daniel can swear with such a consuming violence as to put any - rogue out of countenance. 'Twas all Mr. Washington could do to restrain - Clapsaddle from booting his Reverence over the balustrade and down two - runs of the stairs, the captain declaring he would do for every cur's son - of the whelps. 'Diomedes,' says I, waking up, 'what's this damnable racket - on the landing? Is Mr. Richard home?' For I had some notion it was you, - sir, after an over-night brawl. And I profess I would have caned you - soundly. The fellow answered that Captain Clapsaddle's honour was killing - Mr. Allen, and went out; and came back presently to say that some tall - gentleman had the captain by the neck, and that Mr. Allen was picking his - way down the ice on the steps outside. With that I went in to them in my - dressing-gown. - </p> - <p> - “'What's all this to-do, gentlemen?' said I. - </p> - <p> - “'I'd have finished that son of a dog,' says the captain, 'and Colonel - Washington had let me.' - </p> - <p> - “'What, what!' said I. 'How now? What! Drive a clergyman from my house - gentlemen?' - </p> - <p> - “'What's Richard been at now?' - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Washington asked me to dress, saying that they had something very - particular to speak about; that they would stay to breakfast with me, tho' - they were in haste to be gone to New York. I made my compliments to the - colonel and had them shown to the library fire, and hurried down after - them. Then they told me of this affair last night, and they cleared you, - sir. 'Faith,' cried I, 'and I would have fought, too. The lad was in the - right of it, though I would have him a little less hasty.' D—n me if - I don't wish you had knocked that sea captain's teeth into his throat, and - his brains with them. I like your spirit, sir. A pox on such men as he, - who disgrace his Majesty's name and set better men against him.” - </p> - <p> - “And they told you nothing else, sir?” I asked, with misgiving. - </p> - <p> - “That they did. Mr. Washington repeated the confession you made to them, - sir, in a manner that did you credit. He made me compliments on you,—said - that you were a man, sir, though a trifle hasty: in the which I agreed. - Yes, d—n me, a trifle hasty like your father. I rejoice that you did - not kill his Lordship, my son.” - </p> - <p> - The twilight was beginning; and the old gentleman going back to his chair - was set amusing, gazing out across the bare trees and gables falling gray - after the sunset. - </p> - <p> - What amazed me was that he did not seem to be shocked by the revelation - near as much as I had feared. So this matter had brought me happiness - where I looked for nothing but sorrow. - </p> - <p> - “And the gentlemen are gone north, sir?” said I, after a while. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Richard, these four hours. I commanded an early dinner for them, - since the colonel was pleased to tarry long enough for a little politics - and to spin a glass. And I profess, was I to live neighbours with such a - man, I might come to his way of thinking, despite myself. Though I say it - that shouldn't, some of his Majesty's ministers are d—d rascals.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed. As I live, I never hoped to hear such words from my - grandfather's lips. - </p> - <p> - “He did not seek to convince, like so many of your hotheaded - know-it-alls,” said Mr. Carvel; “he leaves a man to convince himself. He - has great parts, Richard, and few can stand before him.” He paused. And - then his smooth-shaven face became creased in a roguish smile which I had - often seen upon it. “What baggage is this I hear of that you quarrelled - over at the assembly? Ah, Sir, I fear you are become but a sad rake!” says - he. - </p> - <p> - But by great good fortune Dr. Leiden was shown in at this instant. And the - candles being lighted, he examined my neck, haranguing the while in his - vile English against the practice of duelling. He bade me keep my bed for - two days, thereby giving me no great pleasure. - </p> - <p> - “As I hope to live,” said Mr. Carvel when the doctor was gone, “one would - have thought his Excellency himself had been pinked instead of a whip of a - lad, for the people who have been here. His Lordship and Dr. Courtenay - came before the hunt, and young Mr. Fotheringay, and half a score of - others. Mr. Swain is but now left to go to Baltimore on some barrister's - business.” - </p> - <p> - I was burning to learn what the rector had said to Patty, but it was plain - Mr. Carvel knew nothing of this part of the story. He had not mentioned - Grafton among the callers. I wondered what course my uncle would now - pursue, that his plans to alienate me from my grandfather had failed. And - I began debating whether or not to lay the whole plot before Mr. Carvel. - Prudence bade me wait, since Grafton had not consorted with the rector - openly, at least—for more than a year. And yet I spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel!” - </p> - <p> - He stirred in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my son.” - </p> - <p> - He had to repeat, and still I held my tongue. Even as I hesitated there - came a knock at the door, and Scipio entered, bearing candles. - </p> - <p> - “Massa Grafton, suh,” he said. - </p> - <p> - My uncle was close at his heels. He was soberly dressed in dark brown - silk, and his face wore that expression of sorrow and concern he knew how - to assume at will. After greeting his father with his usual ceremony, he - came to my bedside and asked gravely how I did. - </p> - <p> - “How now, Grafton!” cried Mr. Carvel; “this is no funeral. The lad has - only a scratch, thank God!” - </p> - <p> - My uncle looked at me and forced a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I am rejoiced to find you are not worried over this matter, - father,” said he. “I am but just back from Kent to learn of it, and looked - to find you in bed.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, sir, I am not worried. I fought a duel in my own day,—over - a lass, it was.” - </p> - <p> - This time Grafton's smile was not forced. - </p> - <p> - “Over a lass, was it?” he asked, and added in a tone of relief, “and how - do you, nephew?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel saved me from replying. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's life!” he cried; “no, I did not say this was over a lass. I have - heard the whole matter; how Captain Collinson, who is a disgrace to the - service, brought shame upon his Majesty's supporters, and how Richard - felled the young lord instead. I'll be sworn, and I had been there, I - myself would have run the brute through.” - </p> - <p> - My uncle did not ask for further particulars, but took a chair, and a dish - of tea from Scipio. His smug look told me plainer than words that he - thought my grandfather still ignorant of my Whig sentiments. - </p> - <p> - “I often wish that this deplorable practice of duelling might be - legislated against,” he remarked. “Was there no one at the Coffee House - with character enough to stop the lads?” - </p> - <p> - Here was my chance. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Allen was there,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “A devil's plague upon him!” shouted my grandfather, beating the floor - with his stick. “And the lying hypocrite ever crosses my path, by gad's - life! I'll tear his gown from his back!” - </p> - <p> - I watched Grafton narrowly. Such as he never turn pale, but he set down - his tea so hastily as to spill the most of it on the dresser. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you astound me, my dear father!” he faltered; “Mr. Allen a lying - hypocrite? What can he have done?” - </p> - <p> - “Done!” cried my grandfather, sputtering and red as a cherry with - indignation. “He is as rotten within as a pricked pear, I tell you, sir! - For the sake of retaining the lad in his tuition he came to me and lied, - sir, just after I had escaped death, and said that by his influence - Richard had become loyal, and set dependence upon Richard's fear of the - shock 'twould give me if he confessed—Richard, who never told me a - falsehood in his life! And instead of teaching him, he has gamed with the - lad at the rectory. I dare make oath he has treated your son to a like - instruction. 'Slife, sir, and he had his deserts, he would hang from a - gibbet at the Town Gate.” - </p> - <p> - I raised up in bed to see the effect of this on my uncle. But however the - wind veered, Grafton could steer a course. He got up and began pacing the - room, and his agitation my grandfather took for indignation such as his - own. - </p> - <p> - “The dog!” he cried fiercely. “The villain! Philip shall leave him - to-morrow. And to think that it was I who moved you to put Richard to - him!” - </p> - <p> - His distress seemed so real that Mr. Carvel replied: - </p> - <p> - “No, Grafton, 'twas not your fault. You were deceived as much as I. You - have put your own son to him. But if I live another twelve hours I shall - write his Lordship to remove him. What! You shake your head, sir!” - </p> - <p> - “It will not do,” said my uncle. “Lord Baltimore has had his reasons for - sending such a scoundrel—he knew what he was, you may be sure, - father. His Lordship, sir, is the most abandoned rake in London, and that - unmentionable crime of his but lately in the magazines—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” my grandfather interrupted; “I have seen it. But I will - publish him in Annapolis.” - </p> - <p> - My uncle's answer startled me, so like was it to the argument Colonel - Washington himself had used. - </p> - <p> - “What would you publish, sir? Mr. Allen will reply that what he did was - for the lad's good, and your own. He may swear that since Richard - mentioned politics no more he had taken his conversion for granted.” - </p> - <p> - My grandfather groaned, and did not speak, and I saw the futility of - attempting to bring Grafton to earth for a while yet. - </p> - <p> - My uncle had recovered his confidence. He had hoped, so he said, that I - had become a good loyalist: perchance as I grew older I would see the - folly of those who called themselves Patriots. But my grandfather cried - out to him not to bother me then. And when at last he was gone, of my own - volition I proposed to promise Mr. Carvel that, while he lived, I would - take no active part in any troubles that might come. He stopped me with - some vehemence. - </p> - <p> - “I pray God there may be no troubles, lad,” he answered; “but you need - give me no promise. I would rather see you in the Whig ranks than a - trimmer, for the Carvels have ever been partisans.” - </p> - <p> - I tried to express my gratitude. But he sighed and wished me good night, - bidding me get some rest. - </p> - <p> - I had scarce finished my breakfast the next morning when I heard a loud - rat-tat-tat upon the street door-surely the footman of some person of - consequence. And Scipio was in the act of announcing the names when, - greatly to his disgust, the visitors themselves rushed into my bedroom and - curtailed the ceremony. They were none other than Dr. Courtenay and my - Lord Comyn himself. His Lordship had no sooner seen me than he ran to the - bed, grasped both my hands and asked me how I did, declaring he would not - have gone to yesterday's hunt had he been permitted to visit me. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” cried the doctor, “your fame has sprung up like Jonah's gourd. - The Gazette is but just distributed. Here's for you! 'Twill set the wags - a-going, I'll warrant.” - </p> - <p> - He drew the newspaper from his pocket and began to read, stopping now and - anon to laugh: - </p> - <p> - “Rumour hath it that a Young Gentleman of Quality of this Town, who is - possessed of more Valour than Discretion, and whose Skill at Fence and in - the Field is beyond his Years, crossed Swords on Wednesday Night with a - Young Nobleman from the Thunderer. The Cause of this Deplorable Quarrel, - which had its Origin at the Ball, is purported to have been a Young Lady - of Wit and Beauty. (& we doubt it not; for, alas! the Sex hath Much to - answer for of this Kind.) - </p> - <p> - “The Gentlemen, with their Seconds, repaired after the Assembly to the - Coffee House. 'Tis said upon Authority that H-s L-dsh-p owes his Life to - the Noble Spirit of our Young American, who cast down his Blade rather - than sheathe it in his Adversary's Body, thereby himself receiving a - Grievous, the' happily not Mortal, Wound. Our Young Gentleman is become - the Hero of the Town, and the Subject of Prodigious Anxiety of all the - Ladies thereof.” - </p> - <p> - “There's for you, my lad!” says he; “Mr. Green has done for you both - cleverly.” - </p> - <p> - “Upon my soul,” I cried, raising up in bed, “he should be put in the - gatehouse for his impudence! My Lord,—” - </p> - <p> - “Don't 'My Lord' me,” says Comyn; “plain 'Jack' will do.” - </p> - <p> - There was no resisting such a man: and I said as much. And took his hand - and called him 'Jack,' the doctor posing before the mirror the while, - stroking his rues. “Out upon you both,” says he, “for a brace of - sentimental fools!” - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” said Comyn, presently, with a roguish glance at the doctor, - “there were some reason in our fighting had it been over a favour of Miss - Manners. Eh? Come, doctor,” he cried, “you will break your neck looking - for the reflection of wrinkles. Come, now, we must have little Finery's - letter. I give you my word Chartersea is as ugly as all three heads of - Cerberus, and as foul as a ship's barrel of grease. I tell you Miss - Dorothy would sooner marry you.” - </p> - <p> - “And she might do worse, my Lord,” the doctor flung back, with a strut. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and better. But I promise you Richard and I are not such fools as to - think she will marry his Grace. We must have the little coxcomb's letter.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, have it you must, I suppose,” returns the doctor. And with that he - draws it from his pocket, where he has it buttoned in. Then he took a - pinch of Holland and began. - </p> - <p> - The first two pages had to deal with Miss Dorothy's triumph, to which her - father made full justice. Mr. Manners world have the doctor (and all the - province) to know that peers of the realm, soldiers, and statesmen were at - her feet. Orders were as plentiful in his drawing-room as the candles. And - he had taken a house in Arlington Street, where Horry Walpole lived when - not at Strawberry, and their entrance was crowded night and day with the - footmen and chairmen of the grand monde. Lord Comyn broke in more than - once upon the reading, crying,—“Hear, hear!” and,—“My word, - Mr. Manners has not perjured himself thus far. He has not done her justice - by half.” And I smiled at the thought that I had aspired to such a beauty! - </p> - <p> - “'Entre noes, mon cher Courtenay,' Mr. Manners writes, 'entre noes, our - Dorothy hath had many offers of great advantage since she hath been here. - And but yesterday comes a chariot with a ducal coronet to our door. His - Grace of Chartersea, if you please, to request a private talk with me. And - I rode with him straightway to his house in Hanover Square.'” - </p> - <p> - “'Egad! And would gladly have ridden straightway to Newgate, in a ducal - chariot!” cried his Lordship, in a fit of laughter. - </p> - <p> - “'I rode to Hanover Square,' the doctor continued, 'where we discussed the - matter over a bottle. His Grace's generosity was such that I could not but - cry out at it, for he left me to name any settlement I pleased. He must - have Dorothy at any price, said he. And I give you my honour, mon cher - Courtenay, that I lost no time in getting back to Arlington Street, and - called Dorothy down to tell her.'” - </p> - <p> - “Now may I be flayed,” said Comyn, “if ever there was such another ass!” - </p> - <p> - The doctor took more snuff and fell a-laughing. - </p> - <p> - “But hark to this,” said he, “here's the cream of it all: - </p> - <p> - “You will scarce believe me when I say that the baggage was near beside - herself with anger at what I had to tell her. 'Marry that misshapen duke!' - cries she, 'I would quicker marry Doctor Johnson!' And truly, I begin to - fear she hath formed an affection for some like, foul-linened beggar. That - his Grace is misshapen I cannot deny; but I tried reason upon her. 'Think - of the coronet, my dear, and of the ancient name to which it belongs.' She - only stamps her foot and cries out: - </p> - <p> - “'Coronet fiddlesticks! And are you not content with the name you bear, - sir?” 'Our name is good as any in the three kingdoms,' said I, with truth. - 'Then you would have me, for the sake of the coronet, joined to a wretch - who is steeped in debauchery. Yes, debauchery, sir! You might then talk, - forsooth, to the macaronies of Maryland, of your daughter the Duchess.'” - </p> - <p> - “There's spirit for you, my lad!” Comyn shouted; “I give you Miss - Dorothy.” And he drained a glass of punch Scipio had brought in, Doctor - Courtenay and I joining him with a will. - </p> - <p> - “I pray you go on, sir,” I said to the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “A pest on your impatience!” replied he; “I begin to think you are in love - with her yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure he is,” said Comyn; “he had lost my esteem and he were not.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor gave me an odd look. I was red enough, indeed. - </p> - <p> - “'I could say naught, my dear Courtenay, to induce her to believe that his - Grace's indiscretions arose from the wildness of youth. And I pass over - the injustice she hath unwittingly done me, whose only efforts are for her - bettering. The end of it all was that I must needs post back to the duke, - who was stamping with impatience up and down, and drinking Burgundy. I am - sure I meant him no offence, but told him in as many words, that my - daughter had refused him. And, will you believe me, sir? He took occasion - to insult me (I cannot with propriety repeat his speech), and he flung a - bottle after me as I passed out the door. Was he not far gone in wine at - the time, I assure you I had called him out for it.'” - </p> - <p> - “And, gentlemen,” said the doctor, when our merriment was somewhat spent, - “I'll lay a pipe of the best Madeira, that our little fool never knows the - figure he has cut with his Grace.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR - </h2> - <p> - The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still upon my - back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seen him - again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who drift - together to part. And he left me that sword with the jewelled hilt, that - hangs above my study fire, which he had bought in Toledo. He told me that - he was heartily sick of the navy; that he had entered only in respect for - a wish of his father's, the late Admiral Lord Comyn, and that the - Thunderer was to sail for New York, where he looked for a release from his - commission, and whence he would return to England. He would carry any - messages to Miss Manners that I chose to send. But I could think of none, - save to beg him to remind her that she was constantly in my thoughts. He - promised me, roguishly enough, that he would have thought of a better than - that by the time he sighted Cape Clear. And were I ever to come to London - he would put me up at Brooks's Club, and warrant me a better time and more - friends than ever had a Caribbee who came home on a visit. - </p> - <p> - My grandfather kept his word in regard to Mr. Allen, and on Sunday - commanded the coach at eight. We drove over bad roads to the church at - South River. And he afterwards declined the voluntary aid he hitherto had - been used to give to St. Anne's. In the meantime, good Mr. Swain had - called again, bringing some jelly and cake of Patty's own making; and a - letter writ out of the sincerity of her heart, full of tender concern and - of penitence. She would never cease to blame herself for the wrong she now - knew she had done me. - </p> - <p> - Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinner - that Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street. From the window she saw me - coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me. Her eyes rested - first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fire of - anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to South - River,” she said. - </p> - <p> - I was struck all of a sudden with her looks. Her face was pale, and I saw - that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed her into - the little library. The day was fading fast, and the leaping flames behind - the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of the ceiling. We - sat together in the deep window. - </p> - <p> - “And you have forgiven me, Richard?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “An hundred times,” I replied. “I deserved all I got, and more.” - </p> - <p> - “If I had not wronged and insulted you—” - </p> - <p> - “You did neither, Patty,” I broke in; “I have played a double part for the - first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished for it.” - </p> - <p> - “'Twas I sent you to the Coffee House,” she cried, “where you might have - been killed. How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen's tales!” - </p> - <p> - “Then it was Mr. Allen!” I exclaimed, fetching a long breath. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes; I will tell you all.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said I, alarmed at her agitation; “another time.” - </p> - <p> - “I must,” she answered more calmly; “it has burned me enough. You recall - that we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn, and how - merry we were, altho' 'twas nothing but 'Dorothy' with you gentlemen. Then - you left me. Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr. Singleton, the rector - came up. I never have liked the man, Richard, but I little knew his - character. He began by twitting me for a Whig, and presently he said: 'But - we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who sees the error of his ways. - Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promised to be one of those with - whom his Majesty will have to reckon. And he is now become,'—laughing,—'the - King's most loyal and devoted.' I was beside myself. 'That is no subject - for jest, Mr. Allen,' I cried; I will never believe it of him!' 'Jest!' - said he; I give you my word I was never soberer in my life.' Then it all - came to me of a sudden that you sat no longer by the hour with my father, - as you used, and you denounced the King's measures and ministers no more. - My father had spoken of it. 'Tell me why he has changed?' I asked, - faltering with doubt of you, which I never before had felt. 'Indeed, I - know not,' replied the rector, with his most cynical smile; unless it is - because old Mr. Carvel might disinherit a Whig. But I see you doubt my - word, Miss Swain. Here is Mr. Carroll, and you may ask him.' God forgive - me, Richard! I stopped Mr. Carroll, who seemed mightily surprised. And he - told me yes, that your grandfather had said but a few days before, and - with joy, that you were now of his Majesty's party.” - </p> - <p> - “Alas! I might have foreseen this consequence,” I exclaimed. “Nor do I - blame you, Patty.” - </p> - <p> - “But my father has explained all,” Patty continued, brightening. “His - admiration for you is increased tenfold, Richard. Your grandfather told - him of the rector's treachery, which he says is sufficient to make him - turn Methodist or Lutheran. We went to the curate's service to-day. And—will - you hear more, sir? Or do your ears burn? That patriots and loyalists are - singing your praises from Town Gate to the dock, and regretting that you - did not kill that detestable Captain Collinson—but I have something - else, and of more importance, to tell you, Richard,” she continued, - lowering her voice. - </p> - <p> - “What Mr. Carroll had told me stunned me like a blow, such had been my - faith in you. And when Mr. Allen moved off, I stood talking to Percy - Singleton and his Lordship without understanding a word of the - conversation. I could scarce have been in my right mind. It was not your - going over to the other side that pained me so, for all your people are - Tories. But I had rather seen you dead than a pretender and a hypocrite, - selling yourself for an inheritance. Then you came. My natural impulse - should have been to draw you aside and there accuse you. But this was - beyond my strength. And when I saw you go away without a word I knew that - I had been unjust. I could have wept before them all. Mr. Carroll went for - his coach, and was a full half an hour in getting it. But this is what I - would tell you in particular, Richard. I have not spoken of it to a soul, - and it troubles me above all else: While Maria was getting my cardinal I - heard voices on the other side of the dressing-room door. The supper-room - is next, you know. I listened, and recognized the rector's deep tones: 'He - has gone to the Coffee House,' he was saying; Collinson declares that his - Lordship is our man, if we can but contrive it. He is the best foil in the - service, and was taught by—there! I have forgot the name.” - </p> - <p> - “Angelo!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, Angelo it was. How did you know?” she demanded, rising in her - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Angelo is the great fencing-master of London,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “When I heard that,” she said, “I had no doubt of your innocence. I ran - out into the assembly room as I was, in my hood, and tried to find Tom. - But he—” She paused, ashamed. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know,” I said hurriedly; “you could not find him.” - </p> - <p> - She glanced at me in gratitude. - </p> - <p> - “How everybody stared at me! But little I cared! 'Twas that gave rise to - Mr. Green's report. I thought of Percy Singleton, and stopped him in the - midst of a dance to bid him run as fast as his legs would carry him to the - Coffee House, and to see that no harm befell you. 'I shall hold you - responsible for Richard,' I whispered. 'You must get him away from Mr. - Claude's, or I shall never speak to you again.' He did not wait to ask - questions, but went at once, like the good fellow he is. Then I rode home - with Maria. I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though he begged - hard. Father was in here, writing his brief. But I was all in pieces, - Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him no more than - that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant to draw you into a - duel. He took me up to my own room, and I heard him going out to wake - Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving away in our coach. I hope - I may never in my life spend such another hour as I passed then.” - </p> - <p> - The light in the sky had gone out. I looked up at the girl before me as - she stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, her lips - parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her figure - softened. I wondered why I had never before known her beauty. Perchance it - was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart. - </p> - <p> - I leaped to my feet and seized her hands. For a second she looked at me, - startled. Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair in the - corner. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, Richard!” she exclaimed. “Did Dorothy but know!” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy is occupied with titles,” I said. - </p> - <p> - Patty's lip quivered. And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I had - hurt her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you wrong her!” she cried; “believe me when I say that she loves you, - and you only, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “Loves me!” I retorted bitterly,—brutally, I fear. “No. She may have - once, long ago. But now her head is turned.” - </p> - <p> - “She loves you now,” answered Patty, earnestly; “and I think ever will, if - you but deserve her.” - </p> - <p> - And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexity - and consternation. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. SOUTH RIVER - </h2> - <p> - My grandfather's defection from St. Anne's called forth a deal of comment - in Annapolis. His Excellency came to remonstrate, but to no avail, and Mr. - Carvel denounced the rector in such terms that the Governor was glad to - turn the subject. My Uncle Grafton acted with such quickness and force as - would have served to lull the sharpest suspicions. He forbid the rector - his house, attended the curate's service, and took Philip from his care. - It was decided that both my cousin and I were to go to King's College - after Christmas. Grafton's conduct greatly pleased my grandfather. “He has - behaved very loyally in this matter, Richard.” he said to me. “I grow to - reproach myself more every day for the injustice I once did him. He is - heaping coals of fire upon my old head. But, faith! I cannot stomach your - Aunt Caroline. You do not seem to like your uncle, lad.” - </p> - <p> - I answered that I did not. - </p> - <p> - “It was ever the Carvel way not to forget,” he went on. “Nevertheless, - Grafton hath your welfare at heart, I think. His affection for you as his - brother's son is great.” - </p> - <p> - O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue! - </p> - <p> - Christmas fell upon Monday of that year, 1769. There was to be a ball at - Upper Marlboro on the Friday before, to which many of us were invited. - Though the morning came in with a blinding snowstorm from the north, the - first of that winter, about ten of the clock we set out from Annapolis an - exceeding merry party, the ladies in four coaches-and-six, the gentlemen - and their servants riding at the wheels. We laughed and joked despite the - storm, and exchanged signals with the fair ones behind the glasses. - </p> - <p> - But we had scarce got two miles beyond the town gate when a messenger - overtook us with a note for Mr. Carvel, writ upon an odd slip of paper, - and with great apparent hurry: - </p> - <p> - HONOURED SIR, - </p> - <p> - “I have but just come to Annapolis from New York, with Instructions to put - into your Hands, & no Others, a Message of the greatest Import. - Hearing you are but now set out for Upper Marlboro I beg of you to return - for half an Hour to the Coffee House. By so doing you will be of service - to a Friend, and confer a Favour upon y'r most ob'd't Humble Servant, - </p> - <p> - “SILAS RIDGEWAY.” - </p> - <p> - Our cavalcade had halted while I read, the ladies letting down the glasses - and leaning out in their concern lest some trouble had befallen me or my - grandfather. I answered them and bade them ride on, vowing that I would - overtake the coaches before they reached the Patuxent. Then I turned - Cynthia's head for town, with Hugo at my heels. - </p> - <p> - Patty, leaning from the window of the last coach, called out to me as I - passed. I waved my hand in return, and did not remember until long after - the anxiety in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - As I rode, and I rode hard, I pondered over the words of this letter. I - knew not this Mr. Ridgeway from the Lord Mayor of London; but I came to - the conclusion before I had reprised the gate that his message was from - Captain Daniel. And I greatly feared that some evil had befallen my good - friend. So I came to the Coffee House, and throwing my bridle to Hugo, I - ran in. - </p> - <p> - I found Mr. Ridgeway neither in the long room nor in the billiard room nor - the bar. Mr. Claude told me that indeed a man had arrived that morning - from the North, a spare person with a hooked nose and scant hair, in a - brown greatcoat with a torn cape. He had gone forth afoot half an hour - since. His messenger, a negro lad whose face I knew, was in the stables - with Hugo. He had never seen the stranger till he met him that morning in - State House Circle inquiring for Mr. Carvel, and had been given a shilling - to gallop after me. Impatient as I was to be gone, I sat me down in the - coffee room, thinking every minute the man must return, and strongly - apprehensive that Captain Daniel must be in some grave predicament. That - the favour he asked was of such a nature as I, and not my grandfather, - could best fulfil. - </p> - <p> - At length, about a quarter after noon, my man comes in with Mr. Claude - close behind him. I liked his looks less than his description, and the - moment I clapped eyes on him I knew that Captain Daniel had never chose - such a messenger. - </p> - <p> - “This is Mr. Richard Carvel,” said Mr. Claude. - </p> - <p> - The fellow made me a low bow, which I scarcely returned. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure, 'sir,” he began in a whining voice, “that I crave your - forbearance for this prodigious, stupid mistake I have made.” - </p> - <p> - “Mistake!” I exclaimed hotly; “you mean to say, sir, that you have brought - me back for nothing?” - </p> - <p> - The man's eye shifted, and he made me another bow. - </p> - <p> - “I scarce know what to say, Mr. Carvel,” he answered with much humility; - “to speak truth, 'twas zeal to my employers, and methought to you, that - caused you to retrace your steps in this pestiferous storm. I travel,” he - proceeded with some importance, “I travel for Messrs. Rinnell and Runn, - Barristers of the town of New York, and carry letters to men of mark all - over these middle and southern colonies. And my instructions, sir, were to - come to Annapolis with all reasonable speed with this double-sealed - enclosure for Mr. Carvel: and to deliver it to him, and him only, the very - moment I arrived. As I came through your town I made inquiries, and was - told by a black fellow in the Circle that Mr. Carvel was but just left for - Upper Marlboro with a cavalcade of four coaches-and-six and some dozen - gentlemen with their servants. I am sure my mistake was pardonable, Mr. - Carvel,” he concluded with a smirk; “this gentleman was plainly of the - first quality, as was he to whom I was directed. And as he was about to - leave town for I knew not how long, I hope I was in the right in bidding - the black ride after him, for I give you my word the business was most - pressing for him. I crave your forgiveness, and the pleasure of drinking - your honour's health.” - </p> - <p> - I barely heard the fellow through, and was turning on my heel in disgust, - when it struck me to ask him what Mr. Carvel he sought, for I feared lest - my grandfather had got into some lawsuit. - </p> - <p> - “And it please your honour, Mr. Grafton Carvel,” said he; “your uncle, I - understand. Unfortunately he has gone to his estate in Kent County, - whither I must now follow him.” - </p> - <p> - I bade Mr. Claude summon my servant, not stopping to question the man - further, such was my resentment against him. And in ten minutes we were - out of the town again, galloping between the nearly filled tracks of the - coaches, now three hours ahead of us. The storm was increasing, and the - wind cutting, but I dug into Cynthia so that poor Hugo was put to it to - hold the pace, and, tho' he had a pint of rum in him, was near perished - with the cold. As my anger cooled somewhat I began to wonder how Mr. Silas - Ridgeway, whoever he was, could have been such a simpleton as his story - made him out. Indeed, he looked more the rogue than the ass; nor could I - conceive how reliable barristers could hire such a one. I wished heartily - that I had exhausted him further, and a suspicion crossed my brain that he - might have come to Mr. Allen, who had persuaded him to deliver a letter to - Grafton intended for me. Some foreboding beset me, and I was once close to - a full mind for going back, and slacked Cynthia's pace to a trot. But the - thought of the pleasures at Upper Marlboro' and the hope of overtaking the - party at Mr. Dorsey's place, over the Patuxent, where they looked to dine, - decided me in pushing on. And thus we came to South River, with the snow - so thick that we could scarce see ten yards in front of us. - </p> - <p> - Beyond, the road winds up the hill'around the end of Mr. Wiley's - plantation and plunges shortly into the woods, gray and cold indeed - to-day. At their skirt a trail branches off which leads to Mr. Whey's - warehouses, on the water's edge a mile or so below. And I marked that this - path was freshly trodden. I recall a small shock of surprise at this, for - the way was used only in the early autumn to connect with some fields - beyond the hill. And then I heard a sharp cry from Hugo and pulled Cynthia - short. He was some ten paces behind me. - </p> - <p> - “Marse Dick!” he shouted, the whites of his eyes rolled up. “We'se gwine - to be robbed, Marse Dick.” And he pointed to the footprints in the snow; - “somefin done tole Hugo not come to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense!” I cried; “Mr. Wiley is making his lazy beggars cut wood - against Christmas.” - </p> - <p> - When in this temper the poor fellow had more fear of me than of aught - else, and he closed up to my horse's flank, glancing apprehensively to the - right and left, his teeth rattling. We went at a brisk trot. We know not, - indeed, how to account for many things in this world, for with. each beat - of Cynthia's feet I found myself repeating the words South River and - Marlboro, and seeking in my mind a connection to something gone before. - Then, like a sudden gust of wind, comes to me that strange talk between - Grafton and the rector, overheard by old Harvey in the stables at Carvel - Hall. And Cynthia's ears were pointing forward. - </p> - <p> - With a quick impulse I loosed the lower frogs of my coat, for my sword was - buckled beneath, and was reaching for one of the brace of pistols in my - saddle-bags. I had but released them when Hugo cried out: “Gawd, Marse - Dick, run for yo' life!” and I caught a glimpse of him flying down the - road. As I turned a shot rang out, Cynthia reared high with a rough brute - of a fellow clinging to her bridle. I sent my charge full into his chest, - and as he tumbled in the snow I dug my spurs to the rowels. - </p> - <p> - What happened then is still a blurred picture in my brain. I know that - Cynthia was shot from under me before she had taken her leap, and we fell - heavily together. And I was scarcely up again and my sword drawn, when the - villains were pressing me from all sides. I remember spitting but one, and - then I heard a great seafaring oath, the first word out of their mouths, - and I was felled from behind with a mighty blow. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. THE “BLACK MOLL” - </h2> - <p> - I have no intention, my dears, of dwelling upon that part of my adventures - which must be as painful to you as to me, the very recollection of which, - after all these years, suffices to cause the blood within me to run cold. - In my youth men whose natures shrank not from encounter with their enemies - lacked not, I warrant you, a checkered experience. Those of us who are - wound the tightest go the farthest and strike the hardest. Nor is it - difficult for one, the last of whose life is being recorded, to review the - outspread roll of it, and trace the unerring forces which have drawn for - themselves. - </p> - <p> - Some, indeed, traverse this world weighing, before they partake, pleasure - and business alike. But I am not sure, my children, that they better - themselves; or that God, in His all-wise judgment, prefers them to such as - are guided by the divine impulse with which He has endowed them. Far be it - from me to advise rashness or imprudence, as such; nor do I believe you - will take me so. But I say unto you: do that which is right, and let God, - not man, be your interpreter. - </p> - <p> - My narrative awaits me. - </p> - <p> - I came to my wits with an immoderate feeling of faintness and sickness, - with no more remembrance of things past than has a man bereft of reason. - And for some time I swung between sense and oblivion before an - overpowering stench forced itself upon my nostrils, accompanied by a - creaking, straining sound and sweeping motion. I could see nothing for the - pitchy blackness. Then I recalled what had befallen me, and cried aloud to - God in my anguish, for I well knew I had been carried aboard ship, and was - at sea. I had oftentimes heard of the notorious press-gang which supplied - the need of the King's navy, and my first thought was that I had fallen in - their clutches. But I wondered that they had dared attack a person of my - consequence. - </p> - <p> - I had no pain. I lay in a bunk that felt gritty and greasy to the touch, - and my hair was matted behind by a clot of blood. I had been stripped of - my clothes, and put into some coarse and rough material, the colour and - condition of which I could not see for want of light. I began to cast - about me, to examine the size of the bunk, which I found to be narrow, and - plainly at some distance from the deck, for I laid hold upon one of the - rough beams above me. By its curvature I knew it to be a knee, and thus I - came to the caulked sides of the vessel, and for the first time heard the - rattling thud and swish of water on the far side of it. I had no sooner - made this discovery, which drew from me an involuntary groan, when a - ship's lanthorn was of a sudden thrust over me, and I perceived behind it - a head covered with shaggy hair and beard, and beetling brows. Never had I - been in such a terrifying presence. - </p> - <p> - “Damn my blood and bones, life signals at last! Another three bells gone, - my silks and laces, and we had given you to the sharks.” - </p> - <p> - The man hung his lanthorn to a hook on the beam, and thrust a case-bottle - of rum toward me, at the same time biting off a great quid of tobacco. For - all my alarm I saw that his manner was not unkindly, and as I was - conscious of a consuming thirst I seized and tipped it eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis no fine Madeira, my blood,” said he, “such as I fancy your palate is - acquainted with. Yet 'tis as fair a Jamaica as ever Griggs put ashore i' - the dark.” - </p> - <p> - “Griggs!” I cried, the whole affair coming to me: Griggs, Upper Marlboro', - South River, Grafton and the rector plotting in the stalls, and Mr. Silas - Ridgeway the accomplice. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, Griggs,” replied he; “ye may well repeat it, the———-, - I'll lay a puncheon he'll be hailing you shortly. Guinea Griggs, - Gold-Coast Griggs, Smuggler Griggs, Skull-and-Bones Griggs. Damn his soul - and eyes, he hath sent to damnation many a ship's company.” - </p> - <p> - He drained what remained of the bottle, took down the lanthorn, and left - me sufficiently terrified to reflect upon my situation, which I found - desperate enough, my dears. I have no words to describe what I went - through in that vile, foul-smelling place. My tears flowed fast when I - thought of my grandfather and of the dear friends I had left behind, and - of Dorothy, whom I never hoped to see again. And then, perchance 'twas the - rum put heart into me, I vowed I would face the matter show this - cut-throat of a Griggs a bold front. Had he meant to murder me, I - reflected, he had done the business long since. Then I fell asleep. - </p> - <p> - I awoke, I know not how soon, to discover the same shaggy countenance, and - the lanthorn. - </p> - <p> - “Canst walk, Mechlin?” says he. - </p> - <p> - “I can try, at least,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He seemed pleased at this. - </p> - <p> - “You have courage a-plenty, and, by G—, you will have need of it all - with that of a Griggs!” He gave me his bottle again, and assisted me down, - and I found that my legs, save for the rocking of the ship, were steady - enough. I followed him out of the hole in which I had lain on to a deck, - which, in the half light, I saw covered with slush and filth. It was - small, and but dimly illuminated by a hatchway, up the which I pushed - after him, and then another. And so we came to the light of day, which - near blinded me: so that I was fain to clap my hand to mine eyes, and - stood for a space looking about me like a man dazed. The wind, tho' - blowing stiff, was mild, and league after league of the green sea danced - and foamed in the morning sunlight, and I perceived that I was on a large - schooner under full sail, the crew of which were littered about at - different occupations. Some gaming and some drinking, while on the - forecastle two men were settling a dispute at fisticuffs. And they gave me - no more notice, nor as much, than I had been a baboon thrust among them. - From this indifference to a captive I augured no good. Then my conductor, - whom I rightly judged to be the mate of this devil's crew, took me roughly - by the shoulder and bade me accompany him to the cabin. - </p> - <p> - As we drew near the topgallant poop there sounded in my ears a noise like - a tempest, which I soon became aware was a man swearing with a prodigious - vehemence in a fog-horn of a voice. “Sdeath and wounds! Where is that - dog-fish of a Cockle? Damn his entrails, and he is not come soon, I'll - mast-head him naked, by the seven holy spritsails!” And much more and - worse to the same tune until we passed the door and stood before him, when - he let out an oath like the death-cry of a monster. - </p> - <p> - He was a short, lean man with a leathery face and long, black ropy hair, - and beady black eyes that caught the light like a cat's. His looks, - indeed, would have scared a timid person into a fit; but I resolved I - would die rather than show the fear with which he inspired me. He was - dressed in an old navy uniform with dirty lace. His cabin was bare enough, - being scattered about with pistols and muskets and cutlasses, with a - ragged pallet in one corner, and he sat behind an oaken table covered with - greasy charts and spilled liquor and tobacco. - </p> - <p> - “So ho, you are risen from the dead, are you, my fine buck? Mr. - What-do-they-call-you?” cried the captain, with a word as foul as any he - had yet uttered. “By the Lord, you shall pay for running my bosun - through!” - </p> - <p> - “And by the Lord, Captain What's-your-name,” I cried back, for the rum I - had taken had heated me, “you and your fellow-rascals shall pay in blood - for this villanous injury!” - </p> - <p> - Griggs got to his feet and seized his hanger, his face like livid marble - seamed with blue. And from force of habit I made motion for my sword, to - make the shameful discovery that I was clothed from head to foot in - linsey-woolsey. - </p> - <p> - “G-d—-my soul,” he roared, “if I don't slit you like a herring! The - devil burn me to a cinder if I don't give your guts to the sharks!” And he - made at me in such a fury that I would certainly have been cut to pieces - had I not grasped a cutlass and parried his blow, Cockle looking on with - his jaw dropped like a peak without haulyards. With a stroke of my weapon - I disarmed Captain Griggs, his sword flying through the cabin window. For - I made up my mind I would better die fighting than expire at a hideous - torture, which I doubted not he would inflict, and so I took up a posture - of defence, with one eye on the mate; despite the kind offices of the - latter below I knew not whether he were disposed to befriend me before the - captain. What was my astonishment, therefore, to behold Griggs's truculent - manner change. - </p> - <p> - “Avast, my man-o-war,” he cried; “blood and wounds! I had more than an eye - when they brought thee aboard, else I would have killed thee like a - sucking-pig under the forecastle, as I have given oath to do. By the - Ghost, you are worth seven of that Roger Spratt whom you sent to hell in - his boots.” - </p> - <p> - Wherewith Cockle, who for all his terrible appearance stood in a mighty - awe of his captain, set up a loud laugh, and vowed that Griggs knew a man - when he spared me, and was cursed for his pains. - </p> - <p> - “So you were contracted to murder me, Captain Griggs?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” he replied, a devilish gleam coming into his eye, “but I have now - got you and the money to boot. But harkye, I'll stand by my half of the - bargain, by G—. If ever you reach Maryland alive, they may hang me - to the yardarm of a ship-of-the-line.” - </p> - <p> - And I live long enough, my dears, I hope some day to write for you the - account of all that befell me on this slaver, Black Moll, for so she was - called. 'Twould but delay my story now. Suffice it to say that we sailed - for a fortnight or so in the West India seas. From some observations that - fell from the mouth of Griggs I gathered that he was searching for an - island which evaded him; and each day added to his vexation at not finding - it. At times he was drunk for forty hours at a stretch, when he would shut - himself in his cabin and leave his ship to the care of Cockle, who - navigated with the sober portion of the crew. And such a lousy, brawling - lot of convicts I had never clapped eyes upon. As for me, I was treated - indifferently well, though 'twas in truth punishment enough to live in - that filthy ship, to eat their shins of beef and briny pork and wormy - biscuit, to wear rough clothes that chafed my skin. I shared Cockle's - cabin, in every way as dirty a place as the den I had left, but with the - advantage of air, for which I fervently thanked God. - </p> - <p> - I think the mate had some little friendship for me, though he was too - hardened by the life he had led to care a deal what became of me. He - encouraged me secretly to continue to beard Griggs as I had begun, saying - that it was my sole chance of a whole skin, and vowing that if he had had - the courage to pursue the same course his own back had not been checkered - like a grating. He told me stories of the captain's cruelty which I dare - not repeat for their very horror, and indeed I lacked not for instances to - substantiate what he said; men with their backs beaten to a pulp, and - others with ears cut off, and mouths slit, and toes missing. So that I - lived in hourly fear lest in some drunken fit Griggs might command me to - be tortured. But, fortunately, he held small converse with me, and when - sober busied himself in trying to find the island and in cursing the fate - by which it eluded him. - </p> - <p> - So I existed, and prayed daily for deliverance. I plied Cockle with - questions as to what they purposed doing with me, but he was wont to turn - sulky, and would answer me not a word. But once, when he was deeper in his - cups than common, he let me know that Griggs was to sell me to a certain - planter. You may well believe that this did not serve to liven my spirits. - </p> - <p> - At length, one morning, Captain Griggs came out of his cabin and climbed - upon the poop, calling all hands aft to the quarterdeck. Whereupon he - proceeded to make them a speech that for vileness exceeded aught I have - ever heard before or since. He finished by reminding them that this was - the anniversary of the scuttling of the sloop Jane, which had made them - all rich a year before, off the Canaries; the day that he had sent three - and twenty men over the plank to hell. Wherefore he decreed a holiday, as - the weather was bright and the trades light, and would serve quadruple - portions of rum to every man jack aboard; and they set up a cheer that - started the Mother Careys astern. - </p> - <p> - I have no language to depict the bestiality of that day; and if I had I - would think it sin to write of it. The helm was lashed on the port tack, - the haulyards set taut, and all hands down to the lad who was the cook's - scullion proceeded to get drunk. I took the precaution to have a hanger at - my side and to slip one of Cockle's pistols within the band of my - breeches. I was in an exquisite' agony of indecision as to what manner to - act and how to defend myself from their drunken brutality, for I well knew - that if I refused to imbibe with them I should probably be murdered for my - abstemiousness; and, if I drank, the stuff was so near to alcohol that I - could not hope to keep my senses. While in this predicament I received a - polite invitation to partake in the captain's company, which I did not see - my way clear to refuse, and repaired to the cabin accordingly. - </p> - <p> - There I found Griggs and Cockle seated, and a fair-sized barrel of rum - between them that the captain had just moved thither. By way of welcome he - shot at me a volley of curses and bade me to fill up, and through fear of - offending him I took down my first mug with a fair good grace. Then, in - his own particular language, he began the account of the capture of the - Jane, taking care in the pauses to see that my mug was full. But, as luck - would have it, he got no farther than the boarding by the Black Moll's - crew, when he fell to squabbling with Cockle as to who had been the first - man over the side; and while they were settling this difference I grasped - the opportunity to escape. - </p> - <p> - The maudlin scene that met my eyes on deck defies description; some were - fighting, others grinning with a hideous laughter, and still others - shouting tavern jokes unspeakable. And suddenly, whilst I was observing - these things from a niche behind the cabin door, I heard the captain cry - from within, “The ensign, the ensign!” Forgetting his dispute with Cockle, - he bumped past me and made his way with some trouble to the poop. I - climbed the ladder after him, and to my horror beheld him in a drunken - frenzy drag a black flag with a rudely painted skull and cross-bones from - the signal-chest, and with uncertain fingers toggle it to the ensign - haulyards and hoist to the peak, where it fluttered grimly in the light - wind like an evil augur on a fair day. At sight of it the wretches on deck - fell to shouting and huzzaing, Griggs standing leering up at it. Then he - gravely pulled off his hat and made it a bow, and turned upon me. - </p> - <p> - “Salute it, ye lubberly! Ye are no first-rate here,” he thundered. “Salute - the flag!” - </p> - <p> - Unless fear had kept me sober, 'tis past my understanding why I was not as - drunk as he. Be that as it may, I was near as quarrelsome, and would as - soon have worshipped the golden calf as saluted that rag. I flung back - some reply, and he lugged out and came at me with a spring like a wild - beast; and his men below, seeing us fall out, made a rush for the poop - with knives and cutlasses drawn. Betwixt them all I should soon have been - in slivers had not the main shrouds offered themselves handy. And up them - I sprung, the captain cutting at my legs as I left the sheer-pole, and I - stopped not until I reached the schooner's cross-trees, where I drew my - cutlass. They pranced around the mast and showered me with oaths, for all - the world like a lot of howling dogs which had treed a cat. - </p> - <p> - I began to feel somewhat easier, and cried aloud that the first of them - who came up after me would go down again in two pieces. Despite my warning - a brace essayed to climb the ratlines, as pitiable an attempt as ever I - witnessed, and fell to the deck again. 'Twas a miracle that they missed - falling into the sea. And after a while, becoming convinced that they - could not get at me, and being too far gone to shoot with any accuracy, - they tumbled off the poop swearing to serve me in a hundred horrible ways - when they caught me, and fell again to drinking and quarrelling amongst - themselves. I was indeed in an unenviable plight, by no means sure that I - would not be slain out of hand when they became sufficiently sober to - capture me. As I marked the progress of their damnable orgy I cast about - for some plan to take advantage of their condition. I observed that a - stupor was already beginning to overcome a few of them. Then suddenly an - incident happened to drive all else from my mind. - </p> - <p> - Nothing less, my dears, than a white speck of sail gleaming on the - southern horizon! - </p> - <p> - For an hour I watched it, now in a shiver of apprehension lest it pass us - by, now weeping in an ecstasy of joy over a possible deliverance. But it - grew steadily larger, and when about three miles on our port bow I saw - that the ship was a brigantine. Though she had long been in sight from our - deck, 'twas not until now that she was made out by a man on the - forecastle, who set up a cry that brought about him all who could reel - thither, Griggs staggering out of his cabin and to the nettings. The sight - sobered him somewhat, for he immediately shouted orders to cast loose the - guns, himself tearing the breeching from the nine-pounder next him and - taking out the tompion. About half the crew were in a liquorish stupor - from which the trump itself could scarce have aroused them; the rest - responded with savage oaths, swore that they would boil their suppers in - the blood of the brigantine's men and give their corpses to the sea. They - fell to work on the port battery in so ludicrous a manner that I was fain - to laugh despite the gravity of the situation. But when they came to rig - the powderhoist and a couple of them descended into the magazine with - pipes lighted, I was in imminent expectation of being blown as high as a - kite. - </p> - <p> - So absorbed had I been in these preparations that I neglected to watch the - brigantine, which I discovered to be standing on and off in a very - undecided manner, as though hesitating to attack. My spirits fell again at - this, for with all my inexperience I knew her to be a better sailer than - the Black Moll. Her master, as Griggs remarked, “was no d—d - slouching lubber, and knew a yardarm from a rattan cane.” - </p> - <p> - Finally, about six bells of the watch, the stranger wore ship and bore - down across our bows, hoisting English colours, at sight of which I could - scarce forbear a cheer. At this instant, Captain Griggs woke to the fact - that his helm was still lashed, and bestowing a hearty kick on his - prostrate quartermaster stuck fast to the pitchy seams of the deck, took - the wheel himself, and easing off before the wind to bring the vessels - broadside to broadside, commanded that the guns be shooed to the muzzle, - an order that was barely executed before the brigantine came within close - range. Aboard her was all order and readiness; the men at her guns fuse in - hand, an erect and pompous figure of a man, in a cocked hat, on the break - of her poop. He raised his hand, two puffs of white smoke darted out, and - I heard first the shrieking of shot, the broadside came crashing round us, - one tearing through the mainsail below me, another mangling two men in the - waist of our schooner, and Griggs gave the order to touch off. But two of - his guns answered, one of which had been so gorged with shot that it burst - in a hundred pieces and sent the fellow with the swab to perdition, and - such a hell of blood and confusion as resulted is indescribable. I saw - Griggs in a wild fit of rage force the helm down, the schooner flying into - the wind. And by this time, the brigantine having got round and presented - her port battery, raked us at a bare hundred yards, and I was the first to - guess by the tilting forward of the mast that our hull was hit between - wind and water, and was fast settling by the bow. - </p> - <p> - The schooner was sinking like a gallipot. - </p> - <p> - That day, with the sea flashing blue and white in the sun, I saw men go to - death with a curse upon their lips and a fever in their eyes, with murder - and defiance of God's holy will in their hearts. Overtaken in bestiality, - like the judgment of Nineveh, five and twenty disappeared from beneath me, - and I had scarce the time to throw off my cutlass before I, too, was - engulfed. So expired the Black Moll. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 4. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. A MAN OF DESTINY - </h2> - <p> - I was picked up and thrown into the brigantine's long-boat with a head and - stomach full of salt water, and a heart as light as spray with the joy of - it all. A big, red-bearded man lifted my heels to drain me. - </p> - <p> - “The mon's deid,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Dead!” cried I, from the bottom-board. “No more dead than you!” - </p> - <p> - I turned over so lustily that he dropped my feet, and I sat up, something - to his consternation. And they had scarce hooked the ship's side when I - sprang up the sea-ladder, to the great gaping of the boat's crew, and - stood with the water running off me in rivulets before the captain - himself. I shall never forget the look of his face as he regarded my sorry - figure. - </p> - <p> - “Now by Saint Andrew,” exclaimed he, “are ye kelpie or pirate?” - </p> - <p> - “Neither, captain,” I replied, smiling as the comical end of it came up to - me, “but a young gentleman in misfortune.” - </p> - <p> - “Hoots!” says he, frowning at the grinning half-circle about us, “it's - daft ye are—” - </p> - <p> - But there he paused, and took of me a second sizing. How he got at my - birth behind my tangled mat of hair and wringing linsey-woolsey I know not - to this day. But he dropped his Scotch and merchant-captain's manner, and - was suddenly a French courtier, making me a bow that had done credit to a - Richelieu. - </p> - <p> - “Your servant, Mr.—” - </p> - <p> - “Richard Carvel, of Carvel Hall, in his Majesty's province of Maryland.” - </p> - <p> - He seemed sufficiently impressed. - </p> - <p> - “Your very humble servant, Mr. Carvel. 'Tis in faith a privilege to be - able to serve a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - He bowed me toward his cabin, and then in sharp, quick tones he gave an - order to his mate to get under way, and I saw the men turning to the - braces with wonder in their eyes. My own astonishment was as great. And - so, with my clothes sucking to my body and a trail of water behind me like - that of a wet walrus, I accompanied the captain aft. His quarters were - indeed a contrast to those of Griggs, being so neat that I paused at the - door for fear of profaning them; but was so courteously bid to enter that - I came on again. He summoned a boy from the round house. - </p> - <p> - “William,” said he, “a bottle of my French brandy. And my compliments to - Mr. MacMuir, and ask him for a suit of clothes. You are a larger man than - I, Mr. Carvel,” he said to me, “or I would fit you out according to your - station.” - </p> - <p> - I was too overwhelmed to speak. He poured out a liberal three fingers of - brandy, and pledged me as handsomely as I had been an admiral come thither - in mine own barge, instead of a ragged lad picked off a piratical slaver, - with nothing save my bare word and address. 'Twas then I had space to note - him more particularly. His skin was the rich colour of a well-seasoned - ship's bell, and he was of the middle height, owned a slight, graceful - figure, tapering down at the waist like a top, which had set off a silk - coat to perfection and soured the beaus with envy. His movements, however, - had all the decision of a man of action and of force. But his eye it was - took possession of me—an unfathomable, dark eye, which bore more - toward melancholy than sternness, and yet had something of both. He wore a - clean, ruffled shirt, an exceeding neat coat and breeches of blue - broadcloth, with plate burnished buttons, and white cotton stockings. - Truly, this was a person to make one look twice, and think oftener. Then, - as I went to pledge him, I, too, was caught for his name. - </p> - <p> - “Paul,” said he; “John Paul, of the brigantine John, of Kirkcudbright, in - the West India trade.” - </p> - <p> - “Captain Paul—” I began. But my gratitude stuck fast in my throat - and flowed out of my eyes. For the thought of the horrors from which he - had saved me for the first time swept over me; his own kind treatment - overcame me, and I blubbered like a child. With that he turned his back. - </p> - <p> - “Hoots,” says he, again, “dinna ye thank me. 'Tis naething to scuttle a - nest of vermin, but the duty of ilka man who sails the seas.” By this, - having got the better of his emotion, he added: “And if it has been my - good fortune to save a gentleman, Mr. Carvel, I thank God for it, as you - must.” - </p> - <p> - Save for a slackness inside the leg and in the hips, Macbluir's clothes - fitted me well enough, and presently I reappeared in the captain's cabin - rigged out in the mate's shore suit of purplish drab, and brass-buckled - shoes that came high over the instep, with my hair combed clear and tied - with a ribbon behind. I felt at last that I might lay some claim to - respectability. And what was my surprise to find Captain Paul buried to - his middle in a great chest, and the place strewn about with laced and - broidered coats and waistcoats, frocks and Newmarkets, like any tailor's - shop in Church Street. So strange they looked in those tropical seas that - he was near to catching me in a laugh as he straightened up. 'Twas then I - noted that he was a younger man than I had taken him for. - </p> - <p> - “You gentlemen from the southern colonies are too well nourished, by far,” - says he; “you are apt to be large of chest and limb. 'Odds bods, Mr. - Carvel, it grieves me to see you apparelled like a barber surgeon. If the - good Lord had but made you smaller, now,” and he sighed, “how well this - skyblue frock had set you off.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I am content, and more, captain,” I replied with a smile, “and - thankful to be safe amongst friends. Never, I assure you, have I had less - desire for finery.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said he, “you may well say that, you who have worn silk all your - life, and will the rest of it, and we get safe to port. But believe me, - sir, the pleasure of seeing one of your face and figure in such a coat as - that would not be a small one.” - </p> - <p> - And disregarding my blushes and protests, he held up the watchet blue - frock against me, and it was near fitting me but for my breadth,—the - skirts being prodigiously long. I wondered mightily what tailor had thrust - this garment upon him; its fashion was of the old king's time, the cuffs - slashed like a sea-officer's uniform, and the shoulders made carefully - round. But other thoughts were running within me then. - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” I cut in, “you are sailing eastward.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” he answered absently, fingering some Point d'Espagne. - </p> - <p> - “There is no chance of touching in the colonies?” I persisted. - </p> - <p> - “Colonies! No,” said he, in the same abstraction; “I am making for the - Solway, being long overdue. But what think you of this, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - And he held up a wondrous vellum-hole waistcoat of a gone-by vintage, and - I saw how futile it were to attempt to lead him, while in that state of - absorption, to topics which touched my affair. Of a sudden the - significance of what he had said crept over me, the word Solway repeating - itself in my mind. That firth bordered England itself, and Dorothy was in - London! I became reconciled. I had no particle of objection to the Solway - save the uneasiness my grandfather would come through, which was beyond - helping. Fate had ordered things well. - </p> - <p> - Then I fell to applauding, while the captain tried on (for he was not - content with holding up) another frock of white drab, which, cuffs and - pockets, I'll take my oath mounted no less than twenty-four: another plain - one of pink cut-velvet; tail-coats of silk, heavily broidered with - flowers, and satin waistcoats with narrow lace. He took an inconceivable - enjoyment out of this parade, discoursing the while, like a nobleman with - nothing but dress in his head, or, perhaps, like a mastercutter, about the - turn of this or that lapel, the length from armpit to fold, and the number - of button-holes that was proper. And finally he exhibited with evident - pride a pair of doeskins that buttoned over the calf to be worn with high - shoes, which I make sure he would have tried on likewise had he been - offered the slightest encouragement. So he exploited the whole of his - wardrobe, such an unlucky assortment of finery as I never wish to see - again; all of which, however, became him marvellously, though I think he - had looked well in anything. I hope I may be forgiven the perjury I did - that day. I wondered greatly that such a foible should crop out in a man - of otherwise sound sense and plain ability. - </p> - <p> - At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had - exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned to - me as a man come out of a trance. - </p> - <p> - “Od's fish, Mr. Carvel,” he cried, “you will be starved. I had forgot your - state.” - </p> - <p> - I owned that hunger had nigh overcome me, whereupon he became very - solicitous, bade the boy bring in supper at once, and in a short time we - sat down together to the best meal I had seen for a month. It seemed like - a year. Porridge, and bacon nicely done, and duff and ale, with the sea - rushing past the cabin windows as we ate, touched into colour by the - setting sun. Captain Paul did not mess with his mates, not he, and he gave - me to understand that I was to share his cabin, apologizing profusely for - what he was pleased to call poor fare. He would have it that he, and not - I, were receiving favour. - </p> - <p> - “My dear sir,” he said once, “you cannot know what a bit of finery is to - me, who has so little chance for the wearing of it. To discuss with a - gentleman, a connoisseur (I know a bit of French, Mr. Carvel), is a - pleasure I do not often come at.” - </p> - <p> - His simplicity in this touched me; it was pathetic. - </p> - <p> - “How know you I am a gentleman, Captain Paul?” I asked curiously. - </p> - <p> - “I should lack discernment, sir,” he retorted, with some heat, “if I could - not see as much. Breeding shines through sack-cloth, sir. Besides,” he - continued, in a milder tone, “the look of you is candour itself. Though I - have not greatly the advantage of you in age, I have seen many men, and I - know that such a face as yours cannot lie.” - </p> - <p> - Here Mr. Lowrie, the second mate, came in with a report; and I remarked - that he stood up hat in hand whilst making it, very much as if Captain - Paul commanded a frigate. The captain went to a locker and brought forth - some mellow Madeira, and after the mate had taken a glass of it standing, - he withdrew. Then we lighted pipes and sat very cosey with a lanthorn - swung between us, and Captain Paul expressed a wish to hear my story. - </p> - <p> - I gave him my early history briefly, dwelling but casually upon the - position enjoyed in Maryland by my family; but I spoke of my grandfather, - now turning seventy, gray-haired in the service of King and province. The - captain was indeed a most sympathetic listener, now throwing in a question - showing keen Scotch penetration, and anon making a most ludicrous inquiry - as to the dress livery our footmen wore, and whether Mr. Carvel used - outriders when he travelled abroad. This was the other side of the man. As - the wine warmed and the pipe soothed, I spoke at length of Grafton and the - rector; and when I came to the wretched contrivance by which they got me - aboard the Black Moll, he was stalking hither and thither about the cabin, - his fists clenched and his voice thick, breaking into Scotch again and - vowing that hell were too good for such as they. - </p> - <p> - His indignation, which seemed real and generous, transformed him into - another man. He showered question after question upon me concerning my - uncle and Mr. Allen; declared that he had known many villains, but had yet - to hear of their equals; and finally, cooling a little, gave it as his - judgment that the crime could never be brought home to them. This was my - own opinion. He advised me, before we turned in, to “gie the parson a - Grunt” as soon as ever I could lay hands upon him. - </p> - <p> - The John made a good voyage for that season, with fair winds and clear - skies for the most part. 'Twas a stout ship and a steady, with generous - breadth of beam, and kept by the master as clean and bright as his - porringer. He was Emperor aboard her. He spelt Command with a large C, and - when he inspected, his jacks stood to attention like man-o'-war's men. The - John mounting only four guns, and but two of them ninepounders, I - expressed my astonishment that he had dared attack a pirate craft like the - Black Moll, without knowing her condition and armament. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” says he, impressively, for we had become very friendly, “I - would close with a thirty-two and she flew that flag. Why, sir, a bold - front is half the battle, using circumspection, of a course. A pretty - woman, whatever her airs and quality, is to be carried the same way, and a - man ought never to be frightened by appearances.” - </p> - <p> - Sometimes, at our meals, we discussed politics. But he seemed lukewarm - upon this subject. He had told me that he had a brother William in - Virginia, who was a hot Patriot. The American quarrel seemed to interest - him very little. I should like to underscore this last sentence, my dears, - in view of what comes after. What he said on the topic leaned perhaps to - the King's side, tho' he was careful to say nothing that would give me - offence. I was not surprised, for I had made a fair guess of his - ambitions. It is only honest to declare that in my soberer moments my - estimate of his character suffered. But he was a strange man,—a - genius, as I soon discovered, to rouse the most sluggish nature to - enthusiasm. - </p> - <p> - The joy of sailing is born into some men, and those who are marked for the - sea go down thither like the very streams, to be salted. Whatever the - sign, old Stanwix was not far wrong when he read it upon me, and 'twas no - great while before I was part and parcel of the ship beneath my feet, - breathing deep with her every motion. What feeling can compare with that I - tasted when the brigantine lay on her side, the silver spray hurling over - the bulwarks and stinging me to life! Or, in the watches, to hear the sea - lashing along her strakes in never ending music! I gave MacMuir his shore - suit again, and hugely delighted and astonished Captain Paul by donning a - jacket of Scotch wool and a pair of seaman's boots, and so became a sailor - myself. I had no mind to sit idle the passage, and the love of it, as I - have said, was in me. In a fortnight I went aloft with the best of the - watch to reef topsails, and trod a foot-rope without losing head or - balance, bent an easing, and could lay hand on any lift, brace, sheet, or - haulyards in the racks. John Paul himself taught me to tack and wear ship, - and MacMuir to stow a headsail. The craft came to me, as it were, in a - hand-gallop. - </p> - <p> - At first I could make nothing of the crew, not being able to understand a - word of their Scotch; but I remarked, from the first, that they were sour - and sulky, and given to gathering in knots when the captain or MacMuir had - not the deck. For Mr. Lowrie, poor man, they had little respect. But they - plainly feared the first mate, and John Paul most of all. Of me their - suspicion knew no bounds, and they would give me gruff answers, or none, - when I spoke to them. These things roused both curiosity and foreboding - within me. - </p> - <p> - Many a watch I paced thro' with MacMuir, big and red and kindly, and I was - not long in letting him know of the interest which Captain Paul had - inspired within me. His own feeling for him was little short of idolatry. - I had surmised much as to the rank of life from which the captain had - sprung, but my astonishment was great when I was told that John Paul was - the son of a poor gardener. - </p> - <p> - “A gardener's son, Mr. MacMuir!” I repeated. - </p> - <p> - “Just that,” said he, solemnly, “a guid man an' haly' was auld Paul. Unco - puir, by reason o' seven bairns. I kennt the daddie weel. I mak sma' doubt - the captain'll tak ye hame wi' him, syne the mither an' sisters still be - i' the cot i' Mr. Craik's croft.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, MacMuir,” said I, “is not the captain in some trouble?” - </p> - <p> - For I knew that something, whatever it was, hung heavy on John Paul's mind - as we drew nearer Scotland. At times his brow would cloud and he would - fall silent in the midst of a jest. And that night, with the stars jumping - and the air biting cold (for we were up in the 40's), and the John - wish-washing through the seas at three leagues the hour, MacMuir told me - the story of Mungo Maxwell. You may read it for yourselves, my dears, in - the life of John Paul Jones. - </p> - <p> - “Wae's me!” he said, with a heave of his big chest, “I reca' as yestreen - the night Maxwell cam aboord. The sun gaed loon a' bluidy, an' belyve the - morn rose unco mirk an' dreary, wi' bullers (rollers) frae the west like - muckle sowthers (soldiers) wi' white plumes. I tauld the captain 'twas a' - the faut o' Maxwell. I ne'er cad bide the blellum. Dour an' din he was, - wi' ae girn like th' auld hornie. But the captain wadna hark to my rede - when I tauld him naught but dool wad cooin o' taking Mungo.” - </p> - <p> - It seemed that John Paul, contrary to MacMuir's advice, had shipped as - carpenter on the voyage out—near seven months since—a man by - the name of Mungo Maxwell. The captain's motive had nothing in it but - kindness, and a laudable desire to do a good turn to a playmate of his - boyhood. As MacMuir said, “they had gaed barefit thegither amang the - braes.” The man hailed from Kirkbean, John Paul's own parish. But he had - within him little of the milk of kindness, being in truth a sour and - mutinous devil; and instead of the gratitude he might have shown, he - cursed the fate that had placed him under the gardener's son, whom he - deemed no better than himself. The John had scarce cleared the Solway - before Maxwell showed signs of impudence and rebellion. - </p> - <p> - The crew was three-fourths made of Kirkcudbright men who had known the - master from childhood, many of them, indeed, being older than he; they - were mostly jealous of Paul, envious of the command he had attained to - over them, and impatient under the discipline he was ever ready to - inflict. 'Tis no light task to enforce obedience from those with whom one - has birdnested. But, having more than once felt the weight of his hand, - they feared him. - </p> - <p> - Dissatisfaction among such spreads apace, if a leader is but given; and - Maxwell was such a one. His hatred for John Paul knew no bounds, and, - having once tasted of his displeasure, he lay awake o' nights scheming to - ruin him. And this was the plot: when the Azores should be in the wake, - Captain Paul was to be murdered as he paced his quarterdeck in the - morning, the two mates clapt into irons, and so brought to submission. And - Maxwell, who had no more notion of navigation than a carpenter should, was - to take the John to God knows where,—the Guinea coast, most - probably. He would have no more navy regulations on a merchant brigantine, - he promised them, nor banyan days, for the matter o' that. - </p> - <p> - Happily, MacMuir himself discovered the affair on the eve of its - perpetration, overhearing two men talking in the breadroom, and he ran to - the cabin with the sweat standing out on his forehead. But the captain - would have none of the precautions he urged; declared he would walk the - deck as usual, and vowed he could cope single-handed with a dozen cowards - like Maxwell. Sure enough, at crowdie-time, the men were seen coming aft, - with Maxwell in the van carrying a bowl, on the pretext of a complaint - against the cook. - </p> - <p> - “John Paul,” said MacMuir, with admiration in his voice and gesture, “John - Paul wasna feart a pickle, but gaed to the mast, whyles I stannt - chittering i' my claes, fearfu' for his life. He teuk the horns from - Mungo, priet (tasted) a soup o' the crowdie, an' wi' that he seiz't haut - o' the man by baith shouthers ere the blastie (scoundrel) raught for 's - knife. My aith upo't, sir, the lave (rest) o' the batch cowert frae his - e'e for a' the wand like thumpit tykes.'” - </p> - <p> - So ended that mutiny, by the brave act of a brave man. The carpenter was - clapt into irons himself, and given no less of the cat-o'-nine-tails than - was good for him, and properly discharged at Tobago with such as had - supported him. But he brought Captain Paul before the vice-admiralty court - of that place, charging him with gross cruelty, and this proceeding had - delayed the brigantine six months from her homeward voyage, to the great - loss of her owners. And tho' at length the captain was handsomely - acquitted, his character suffered unjustly, for there lacked not those who - put their own interpretation upon the affair. He would most probably lose - the brigantine. “He expected as much,” said MacMuir. - </p> - <p> - “There be mony aboord,” he concluded, with a sigh, “as'll muckle gash - (gossip) when we win to Kirkcudbright.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX. A SAD HOME-COMING - </h2> - <p> - Mr. Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, the Dumfries bo'sun, both of whom would have - died for the captain, assured me of the truth of MacMuir's story, and - shook their heads gravely as to the probable outcome. The peculiar - water-mark of greatness that is woven into some men is often enough to set - their own community bitter against them. Sandie, the plodding peasant, - finds it a hard matter to forgive Jamie, who is taken from the plough next - to his, and ends in Parliament. The affair of Mungo Maxwell, altered to - suit, had already made its way on more than one vessel to Scotland. For - according to Lowrie, there was scarce a man or woman in Kirkcudbrightshire - who did not know that John Paul was master of the John, and (in their - hearts) that he would be master of more in days to come. Human nature is - such that they resented it, and cried out aloud against his cruelty. - </p> - <p> - On the voyage I had many sober thoughts of my own to occupy me of the - terrible fate, from which, by Divine inter position, I had been rescued; - of the home I had left behind. I was all that remained to Mr. Carvel in - the world, and I was sure that he had given me up for dead. How had he - sustained the shock? I saw him heavily mounting the stairs upon Scipicks - arm when first the news was brought to him. Next Grafton would come - hurrying in from Kent to Marlboro Street, disavowing all knowledge of the - messenger from New York, and intent only upon comforting his father. And - when I pictured my uncle soothing him to his face, and grinning behind his - bed-curtains, my anger would scald me, and the realization of my - helplessness bring tears of very bitterness. - </p> - <p> - What would I not have given then for one word with that honest and - faithful friend of our family, Captain Daniel! I knew that he suspected - Grafton: he had told me as much that night at the Coffee House. Perhaps - the greatest of my fears was that my uncle would deny him access to Mr. - Carvel when he returned from the North. - </p> - <p> - In the evening, when the sun settled red upon the horizon, I would think - of Patty and my friends in Gloucester Street. For I knew they missed me - sadly of a Sunday at the supper-table. But it has ever been my nature to - turn forward instead of back, and to accept the twists and flings of - fortune with hope rather than with discouragement. And so, as we left - league after, league of the blue ocean behind us, I would set my face to - the forecastle. For Dorothy was in England. - </p> - <p> - On a dazzling morning in March, with the brigantine running like a beagle - in full cry before a heaping sea that swayed her body,—so I beheld - for the first time the misty green of the high shores of Ireland. Ah! of - what heroes' deeds was I capable as I watched the lines come out in bold - relief from a wonderland of cloud! With what eternal life I seemed to - tingle! 'Twas as though I, Richard Carvel, had discovered all this colour; - and when a tiny white speck of a cottage came out on the edge of the - cliff, I thought irresistibly of the joy to live there the year round with - Dorothy, with the wind whistling about our gables, and the sea thundering - on the rocks far below. Youth is in truth a mystery. - </p> - <p> - How long I was gazing at the shifting coast I know not, for a strange - wildness was within me that made me forget all else, until suddenly I - became conscious of a presence at my side, and turned to behold the - captain. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a braw sight, Richard,” said he, “but no sae bonnie as auld - Scotland. An' the wind hands, we shall see her shores the morn.” - </p> - <p> - His voice broke, and I looked again to see two great tears rolling upon - his cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Scotland!” he pressed on, heedless of them, “God aboon kens what she - is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie.” And he walked to - the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men who had come aft to - splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. I followed him, - emboldened to speak at last what was in me. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Paul,” said I, “MacMuir has told me of your trouble. My - grandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,”—here I paused - for suitable words, as I could not solve his expression,—“you, sir, - whose bravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want for - friends and money.” - </p> - <p> - He heard me through. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel,” he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback, - “reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen.” - </p> - <p> - And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentioned money. - And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor less than a - master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the common in such - a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affection for him - been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I had laughed over - his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that when I had reached - London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should be rewarded despite - his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should have one of my - grandfather's. - </p> - <p> - But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had more cause than - ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence and aloofness. He - talked gayly on a score of subjects,—on dress, of which he was never - tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America, in a fashion - that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nor did he lack for - wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had wined him, and had me much - in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth, jingling the glasses in - many toasts, for he had a list of healths to make me gasp, near as long as - the brigantine's articles,—Inez in Havana and Maraquita in - Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, each had her separate - charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relict of a customs official, - Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto a midnight brush with a - lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fair widow figured, and showed her - preference, too. But his adoration for the ladies of the more northern - colonies, he would have me to understand, was unbounded. For example, Miss - Arabella Pope of Norfolk, in Virginia,—and did I know her? No, I had - not that pleasure, though I assured him the Popes of Virginia were famed. - Miss Pope danced divinely as any sylph, and the very memory of her - tripping at the Norfolk Assembly roused the captain to such a pitch of - enthusiasm as I had never seen in him. Marvellous to say, his own words - failed him, and he had recourse to the poets: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Her feet beneath her petticoat - Like little mice stole in and out, - As if they feared the light; - But, oh, she dances such a way! - No sun upon an Easter-day - Is half so fine a sight.” - </pre> - <p> - The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave them - standing, in excellent voice and elegant gesture. - </p> - <p> - He was in particular partial to the poets, could quote at will from Gay - and Thomson and Goldsmith and Gray, and even from Shakespeare, much to my - own astonishment and humiliation. Saving only Dr. Courtenay of Annapolis I - had never met his equal for versatility of speech and command of fine - language; and, having heard that he had been at sea since the age of - twelve, I made bold to ask him at what school he had got his knowledge. - </p> - <p> - “At none, Richard,” he answered with pride, “saving the rudiments at the - Parish School at Kirkbean. Why, sir, I hold it to be within every man's - province to make himself what he will, and I early recognized in Learning - the only guide for such as me. I may say that I married her for the - furtherance of my fortunes, and have come to love her for her own sake. - Many and many the 'tween-watch have I passed in a coil of rope in the - tops, a volume of the classics in my hand. And 'my happiest days, when not - at sea, have been spent in my brother William's little library. He hath a - modest estate near Fredericksburg, in Virginia, and none holds higher than - he the worth of an education. Ah, Richard,” he added, with a certain - sadness, “I fear you little know the value of that which hath been so - lavishly bestowed upon you. There is no creation in the world to equal - your fine gentleman!” - </p> - <p> - It struck me indeed as strange that a man of his powers should set store - by such trumpery, and, too, that these notions had not impaired his - ability as a seaman. I did not reply. He gave no heed, however, but drew - from a case a number of odes and compositions, which he told me were his - own. They were addressed to various of his enamouritas, abounded in - orrery, and were all, I make no doubt, incredibly fine, tho' not so much - as one sticks in my mind. To speak truth I listened with a very ill grace, - longing the while to be on deck, for we were about to sight the Isle of - Man. The wine and the air of the cabin had made my eyes heavy. But - presently, when he had run through with some dozen or more, he put them - by, and with a quick motion got from his chair, a light coming into his - dark eyes that startled me to attention. And I forgot the merchant - captain, and seemed to be looking forward into the years. - </p> - <p> - “Mark you, Richard,” said he, “mark well when I say that my time will - come, and a day when the best of them will bow to me. And every ell of - that triumph shall be mine, sir,-ay, every inch!” - </p> - <p> - Such was his force, which sprang from some hidden fire within him, that I - believed his words as firmly as they had been writ down in the Book of - Isaiah. Brimming over with enthusiasm, I pledged his coming greatness in a - reaming glass of Malaga. - </p> - <p> - “Alack,” he cried, “an' they all had your faith, laddie, a fig for the - prophecy! Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle.” - </p> - <p> - There was more of wisdom in this than I dreamed of then. Here lay hid the - very keynote of that ambitious character: he stooped to nothing less than - greatness for a triumph over his slanderers. - </p> - <p> - I rose betimes the next morning to find the sun peeping above the wavy - line of the Scottish hills far up the. Solway, and the brigantine sliding - smoothly along in the lee of the Galloway Rhinns. And, though the month - was March, the slopes of Burrow Head were green as the lawn of Carvel Hall - in May, and the slanting rays danced on the ruffed water. By eight of the - clock we had crept into Kirkcudbright Bay and anchored off St. Mary's - Isle, the tide running ebb, and leaving a wide brown belt of sand behind - it. - </p> - <p> - St. Mary's Isle! As we looked upon it that day, John Paul and I, and it - lay low against the bright water with its bare oaks and chestnuts against - the dark pines, 'twas perhaps as well that the future was sealed to us. - </p> - <p> - Captain Paul had conned the brigantine hither with a master's hand; but - now that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I had - donned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangway - when the captain approached me. - </p> - <p> - “What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?” he asked kindly. - </p> - <p> - What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent upon - my benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept any - return I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him again - for his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him I - should be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage to - London upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affection for - him having grown-past my understanding. - </p> - <p> - “Hoots!” he replied, moved in his turn, “whyles I hae siller ye shallna - lack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station.” - </p> - <p> - And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me be - ready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewell to - MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For the - honest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speech when - he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it. - </p> - <p> - “But you will be needing it, MacMuir,” I said, suspecting he had no other. - </p> - <p> - “Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the claw - frae London, wi' this geordie.” - </p> - <p> - He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take; - and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into the stern - of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through the little - fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck for a parting - look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainly shoulders over - the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted a hearty “God - speed” after me. - </p> - <p> - As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at the - mouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on the - wharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got within - twenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchief called - out: - </p> - <p> - “What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?” - </p> - <p> - “CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie,” spoke up a coarse fellow with a rough - beard. And a laugh went round. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, captain! I'll captain him!” screamed the carlin, pushing to the front - as the oars were tossed, “I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll be captaining him - for his towmond voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for ye noo, John Paul.” - With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceiving that matters were - likely to go ill with the captain, began to chaff with their friends - above. The respect with which he had inspired them, however, prevented any - overt insult on their part. As for me, my temper had flared up like the - burning of a loose charge of powder, and by instinct my right hand sought - the handle of the mate's hanger. The beldame saw the motion. - </p> - <p> - “An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin - gowk?” - </p> - <p> - The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant violence,—nothing - less. But they had counted without their man, for Paul was born to ride - greater crises. With his lips set in a line he stepped lightly out of the - boat into their very midst, and they looked into his eyes to forget time - and place. MacMuir had told me how those eyes could conquer mutiny, but I - had not believed had I trot been thereto see the pack of them give back in - sullen wonder. And so we walked through and on to the little street - beyond, and never a word from the captain until we came opposite the sign - of the Hurcheon.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you await me here, Richard,” he said quite calmly; “I mast seek Mr. - Currie, and make my report.” - </p> - <p> - I have still the remembrance of that pitiful day in the clean little - village. I went into the inn and sat down upon an oak settle in a corner - of the bar, under the high lattice, and thought of the bitterness of this - home-coming. If I was amongst strangers, he was amongst worse: verily, to - have one's own people set against one is heaviness of heart to a man whose - love of Scotland was great as John Paul's. After a while the place began - to fill, Willie and Robbie and Jamie arriving to discuss Paul's return - over their nappy. The little I could make of their talk was not to my - liking, but for the captain's sake I kept my anger under as best I could, - for I had the sense to know that brawling with a lot of alehouse - frequenters would not advance his cause. At length, however, came in the - same sneering fellow I had marked on the wharf, calling loudly for swats. - “Ay, Captain Paul was noo at Mr. Curries, syne banie Alan seed him gang - forbye the kirk.” The speaker's name, I learned, was Davie, and he had - been talking with each and every man in the long-boat. Yes, Mungo Maxwell - had been cat-o'-ninetailed within an inch of his life; and that was the - truth; for a trifling offence, too; and cruelly discharged at some - outlandish port because, forsooth, he would not accept the gospel of the - divinity of Captain Paul. He would as soon sign papers with the devil. - </p> - <p> - This Davie was gifted with a dangerous kind of humour which I have heard - called innuendo, and he soon had the bar packed with listeners who laughed - and cursed turn about, filling the room to a closeness scarce supportable. - And what between the foul air and my resentment, and apprehension lest - John Paul would come hither after me, I was in prodigious discomfort of - body and mind. But there was no pushing my way through them unnoticed, - wedged as I was in a far corner; so I sat still until unfortunately, or - fortunately, the eye of Davie chanced to fall upon me, and immediately his - yellow face lighted malignantly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! here be the gentleman the captain's brocht hame!” he cried, - emphasizing the two words; “as braw a gentleman as eer taen frae pirates, - an' nae doubt sin to ae bien Buckskin bonnet-laird.” - </p> - <p> - I saw through his game of getting satisfaction out of John Paul thro' - goading me, and determined he should have his fill of it. For, all in all, - he had me mad enough to fight three times over. - </p> - <p> - “Set aside the gentleman,” said I, standing up and taking off MacMuir's - coat, “and call me a lubberly clout like yourself, and we will see which - is the better clout.” I put off the longsleeved jacket, and faced him with - my fists doubled, crying: “I'll teach you, you spawn of a dunghill, to - speak ill of a good man!” - </p> - <p> - A clamour of “Fecht! fecht!” arose, and some of them applauded me, calling - me a “swankie,” which I believe is a compliment. A certain sense of - fairness is often to be found where least expected. They capsized the fat, - protesting browsterwife over her own stool, and were pulling Jamie's coat - from his back, when I began to suspect that a fight was not to the - sniveller's liking. Indeed, the very look of him made me laugh out—'twas - now as mild as a summer's morn. - </p> - <p> - “Wow,” says Jamie, “ye maun fecht wi' a man o' yere ain size.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll lay a guinea that we weigh even,” said I; and suddenly remembered - that I had not so much as tuppence to bless me. - </p> - <p> - Happily he did not accept the wager. In huge disgust they hustled him from - the inn and put forward the blacksmith, who was standing at the door in - his leather apron. Now I had not bargained with the smith, who seemed a - well-natured enough man, and grinned broadly at the prospect. But they - made a ring on the floor, I going over it at one end, and he at the other, - when a cry came from the street, those about the entrance parted, and in - walked John Paul himself. At sight of him my new adversary, who was - preparing to deal me out a blow to fell an ox, dropped his arms in - surprise, and held out his big hand. - </p> - <p> - “Haith! John Paul,” he shouted heartily, forgetting me, “'tis blythe I am - to see yere bonnie face ance mair! - </p> - <p> - “An' wha are ye, Jamie Darrell,” said the captain, “to be bangin' yere - betters? Dinna ye ken gentry when ye see't?” - </p> - <p> - A puzzled look spread over the smith's grimy face. - </p> - <p> - “Gentry!” says he; “nae gentry that I ken, John Paul. Th' fecht be but a - bit o' fun, an' nane o' my seekin'.” - </p> - <p> - “What quarrel is this, Richard?” says John Paul to me. - </p> - <p> - “In truth I have no quarrel with this honest man,” I replied; “I desired - but the pleasure of beating a certain evil-tongued Davie, who seems to - have no stomach for blows, and hath taken his lies elsewhere.” - </p> - <p> - So quiet was the place that the tinkle of the guidwife's needle, which she - had dropped to the flags, sounded clear to all. John Paul stood in the - middle of the ring, erect, like a man inspired, and the same strange sense - of prophecy that had stirred my blood crept over him and awed the rest, as - tho' 'twere suddenly given to see him, not as he was, but as he would be. - Then he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “You, who are my countrymen, who should be my oldest and best friends, are - become my enemies. You who were companions of my childhood are revilers of - my manhood; you have robbed me of my good name and my honour, of my ship, - of my very means of livelihood, and you are not content; you would rob me - of my country, which I hold dearer than all. And I have never done you - evil, nor spoken aught against you. As for the man Maxwell, whose part you - take, his child is starving in your very midst, and you have not lifted - your hands. 'Twas for her sake I shipped him, and none other. May God - forgive you! He alone sees the bitterness in my heart this day. He alone - knows my love for Scotland, and what it costs me to renounce her.” - </p> - <p> - He had said so much with an infinite sadness, and I read a response in the - eyes of more than one of his listeners, the guidwife weeping aloud. But - now his voice rose, and he ended with a fiery vigour. - </p> - <p> - “Renounce her I do,” he cried, “now and forevermore! Henceforth I am no - countryman of yours. And if a day of repentance should come for this evil, - remember well what I have said to you.” - </p> - <p> - They stood for a moment when he had finished, shifting uneasily, their - tongues gone, like lads caught in a lie. I think they felt his greatness - then, and had any one of them possessed the nobility to come forward with - an honest word, John Paul might yet have been saved to Scotland. As it - was, they slunk away in twos and threes, leaving at last only the good - smith with us. He was not a man of talk, and the tears had washed the soot - from his face in two white furrows. - </p> - <p> - “Ye'll hae a waught wi' me afore ye gang, John,” he said clumsily, “for - th' morns we've paddl' 't thegither i' th' Nith.” - </p> - <p> - The ale was brought by the guidwife, who paused, as she put it down, to - wipe her eyes with her apron. She gave John Paul one furtive glance and - betook herself again to her knitting with a sigh, speech having failed her - likewise. The captain grasped up his mug. - </p> - <p> - “May God bless you, Jamie,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Ye'll be gaen noo to see the mither,” said Jamie, after a long space. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, for the last time. An', Jamie, ye'll see that nae harm cams to her - when I'm far awa'?” - </p> - <p> - The smith promised, and also agreed to have John Paul's chests sent by - wagon, that very day, to Dumfries. And we left him at his forge, his - honest breast torn with emotion, looking after us. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI. THE GARDENER'S COTTAGE - </h2> - <p> - So we walked out of the village, with many a head craned after us and many - an eye peeping from behind a shutter, and on into the open highway. The - day was heavenly bright, the wind humming around us and playing mad pranks - with the white cotton clouds, and I forgot awhile the pity within me to - wonder at the orderly look of the country, the hedges with never a stone - out of place, and the bars always up. The ground was parcelled off in such - bits as to make me smile when I remembered our own wide tracts in the New - World. Here waste was sin: with us part and parcel of a creed. I - marvelled, too, at the primness and solidity of the houses along the road, - and remarked how their lines belonged rather to the landscape than to - themselves. But I was conscious ever of a strange wish to expand, for I - felt as tho' I were in the land of the Liliputians, and the thought of a - gallop of forty miles or so over these honeycombed fields brought me to a - laugh. But I was yet to see some estates of the gentry. - </p> - <p> - I had it on my tongue's tip to ask the captain whither he was taking me, - yet dared not intrude on the sorrow that still gripped him. Time and time - we met people plodding along, some of them nodding uncertainly, others - abruptly taking the far side of the pike, and every encounter drove the - poison deeper into his soul. But after we had travelled some way, up hill - and down dale, he vouchsafed the intelligence that we were making for - Arbigland, Mr. Craik's seat near Dumfries, which lies on the Nith twenty - miles or so up the Solway from Kirkcudbright. On that estate stood the - cottage where John Paul was born, and where his mother and sisters still - dwelt. - </p> - <p> - “I'll juist be saying guidbye, Richard,” he said; “and leave them a bit - siller I hae saved, an' syne we'll be aff to London thegither, for - Scotland's no but a cauld kintra.” - </p> - <p> - “You are going to London with me?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” answered he; “this is hame nae mair for John Paul.” - </p> - <p> - I made bold to ask how the John's owners had treated him. - </p> - <p> - “I have naught to complain of, laddie,” he answered; “both Mr. Beck and - Mr. Currie bore the matter of the admiralty court and the delay like the - gentlemen they are. They well know that I am hard driven when I resort to - the lash. They were both sore at losing me, and says Mr. Beck: I We'll not - soon get another to keep the brigantine like a man-o'-war, as did you, - John Paul.' I thanked him, and told him I had sworn never to take another - merchantman out of the Solway. And I will keep that oath.” - </p> - <p> - He sighed, and added that he never hoped for better owners. In token of - which he drew a certificate of service from his pocket, signed by Messrs. - Currie and Beck, proclaiming him the best master and supercargo they had - ever had in their service. I perceived that talk lightened him, and led - him on. I inquired how he had got the 'John'. - </p> - <p> - “I took passage on her from Kingston, laddie. On the trip both Captain - Macadam and the chief mate died of the fever. And it was I, the passenger, - who sailed her into Kirkcudbright, tho' I had never been more than a chief - mate before. That is scarce three years gone, when I was just turned one - and twenty. And old Mr. Currie, who had known my father, was so pleased - that he gave me the ship. I had been chief mate of the 'Two Friends', a - slaver out of Kingston.” - </p> - <p> - “And so you were in that trade!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - He seemed to hesitate. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he replied, “and sorry I am to say it. But a man must live. It was - no place for a gentleman, and I left of my own accord. Before that, I was - on a slaver out of Whitehaven.” - </p> - <p> - “You must know Whitehaven, then.” - </p> - <p> - I said it only to keep the talk going, but I remembered the remark long - after. - </p> - <p> - “I do,” said he. “'Tis a fair sample of an English coast town. And I have - often thought, in the event of war with France, how easy 'twould be for - Louis's cruisers to harry the place, and an hundred like it, and raise - such a terror as to keep the British navy at home.” - </p> - <p> - I did not know at the time that this was the inspiration of an admiral and - of a genius. The subject waned. And as familiar scenes jogged his memory, - he launched into Scotch and reminiscence. Every barn he knew, and cairn - and croft and steeple recalled stories of his boyhood. - </p> - <p> - We had long been in sight of Criffel, towering ahead of us, whose summit - had beckoned for cycles to Helvellyn and Saddleback looming up to the - southward, marking the wonderland of the English lakes. And at length, - after some five hours of stiff walking, we saw the brown Nith below us - going down to meet the Solway, and so came to the entrance of Mr. Craik's - place. The old porter recognized Paul by a mere shake of the head and the - words, “Yere back, are ye?” and a lowering of his bushy white eyebrows. We - took a by-way to avoid the manor-house, which stood on the rising ground - twixt us and the mountain, I walking close to John Paul's shoulder and - feeling for him at every step. Presently, at a turn of the path, we were - brought face to face with an elderly gentleman in black, and John Paul - stopped. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Craik!” he said, removing his hat. - </p> - <p> - But the gentleman only whistled to his dogs and went on. - </p> - <p> - “My God, even he!” exclaimed the captain, bitterly; “even he, who thought - so highly of my father!” - </p> - <p> - A hundred yards more and we came to the little cottage nigh hid among the - trees. John Paul paused a moment, his hand upon the latch of the gate, his - eyes drinking in the familiar picture. The light of day was dying behind - Criffel, and the tiny panes of the cottage windows pulsed with the rosy - flame on the hearth within, now flaring, and again deepening. He sighed. - He walked with unsteady step to the door and pushed it open. I followed, - scarce knowing what I did, halted at the threshold and drew back, for I - had been upon holy ground. - </p> - <p> - John Paul was kneeling upon the flags by the ingleside, his face buried on - the open Bible in his mother's lap. Her snowy-white head was bent upon - his, her tears running fast, and her lips moving in silent prayer to Him - who giveth and taketh away. Verily, here in this humble place dwelt a love - that defied the hard usage of a hard world! - </p> - <p> - After a space he came to the door and called, and took me by the hand, and - I went in with him. Though his eyes were wet, he bore himself like a - cavalier. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, this is Mr. Richard Carvell heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland,—a - young gentleman whom I have had the honour to rescue from a slaver.” - </p> - <p> - I bowed low, such was my respect for Dame Paul, and she rose and - curtseyed. She wore a widow's cap and a black gown, and I saw in her - deep-lined face a resemblance to her son. - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” I said, the title coming naturally, “I owe Captain Paul a debt I - can never repay.” - </p> - <p> - “An' him but a laddie!” she cried. “I'm thankful, John, I'm thankful for - his mither that ye saved him.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no mother, Madam Paul,” said I, “and my father was killed in the - French war. But I have a grandfather who loves me dearly as I love him.” - </p> - <p> - Some impulse brought her forward, and she took both my hands in her own. - </p> - <p> - “Ye'll forgive an auld woman, sir,” she said, with a dignity that matched - her son's, “but ye're sae young, an' ye hae sic a leuk in yere bonny gray - e'e that I ken yell aye be a true friend o' John's. He's been a guid sin - to me, an' ye maunna reek what they say o' him.” - </p> - <p> - When now I think of the triumph John Paul has achieved, of the scoffing - world he has brought to his feet, I cannot but recall that sorrowful - evening in the gardener's cottage, when a son was restored but to be torn - away. The sisters came in from their day's work,—both well-favoured - lasses, with John's eyes and hair,—and cooked the simple meal of - broth and porridge, and the fowl they had kept so long against the - captain's home-coming. He carved with many a light word that cost him - dear. Did Janet reca' the simmer nights they had supped here, wi' the - bumclocks bizzin' ower the candles? And was Nancy, the cow, still i' the - byre? And did the bees still give the same bonnie hiney, and were the red - apples still in the far orchard? Ay, Meg had thocht o' him that autumn, - and ran to fetch them with her apron to her face, to come back smiling - through her tears. So it went; and often a lump would rise in my throat - that I could not eat, famished as I was, and the mother and sisters scarce - touched a morsel of the feast. - </p> - <p> - The one never failing test of a son, my dears, lies in his treatment of - his mother, and from that hour forth I had not a doubt of John Paul. He - was a man who had seen the world and become, in more than one meaning of - the word, a gentleman. Whatever foibles he may have had, he brought no - conscious airs and graces to this lowly place, but was again the humble - gardener's boy. - </p> - <p> - But time pressed, as it ever does. The hour came for us to leave, John - Paul firmly refusing to remain the night in a house that belonged to Mr. - Craik. Of the tenderness, nay, of the pity and cruelty of that parting, I - have no power to write. We knelt with bowed heads while the mother prayed - for the son, expatriated, whom she never hoped to see again on this earth. - She gave us bannocks of her own baking, and her last words were to implore - me always to be a friend to John Paul. - </p> - <p> - Then we went out into the night and walked all the way to Dumfries in - silence. - </p> - <p> - We lay that night at the sign of the “Twa Naigs,” where Bonnie Prince - Charlie had rested in the Mars year(1715). Before I went to bed I called - for pen and paper, and by the light of a tallow dip sat down to compose a - letter to my grandfather, telling him that I was alive and well, and - recounting as much of my adventures as I could. I said that I was going to - London, where I would see Mr. Dix, and would take passage thence for - America. I prayed that he had been able to bear up against the ordeal of - my disappearance. I dwelt upon the obligations I was under to John Paul, - relating the misfortunes of that worthy seaman (which he so little - deserved!). And said that it was my purpose to bring him to Maryland with - me, where I knew Mr. Carvel would reward him with one of his ships, - explaining that he would accept no money. But when it came to accusing - Grafton and the rector, I thought twice, and bit the end of the feather. - The chances were so great that my grandfather would be in bed and under - the guardianship of my uncle that I forbore, and resolved instead to write - it to Captain Daniel at my first opportunity. - </p> - <p> - I arose early to discover a morning gray and drear, with a mist falling to - chill the bones. News travels apace the world over, and that of John - Paul's home-coming and of his public renunciation of Scotland at the - “Hurcheon” had reached Dumfries in good time, substantiated by the arrival - of the teamster with the chests the night before. I descended into the - courtyard in time to catch the captain in his watchet-blue frock haggling - with the landlord for a chaise, the two of them surrounded by a muttering - crowd anxious for a glimpse of Mr. Craik's gardener's son, for he had - become a nine-day sensation to the country round about. But John Paul - minded them not so much as a swarm of flies, and the teamster's account of - the happenings at Kirkcudbright had given them so wholesome a fear of his - speech and presence as to cause them to misdoubt their own wit, which is - saying a deal of Scotchmen. But when the bargain had been struck and John - Paul gone with the 'ostler to see to his chests, mine host thought it a - pity not to have a fall out of me. - </p> - <p> - “So ye be the Buckskin laud,” he said, with a wink at a leering group of - farmers; “ye hae braw gentles in America.” - </p> - <p> - He was a man of sixty or thereabout, with a shrewd but not unkindly face - that had something familiar in it. - </p> - <p> - “You have discernment indeed to recognize a gentleman in Scotch clothes,” - I replied, turning the laugh on him. - </p> - <p> - “Dinna raise ae Buckskin, Mr. Rawlinson,” said a man in corduroy. - </p> - <p> - “Rawlinson!” I exclaimed at random, “there is one of your name in the - colonies who knows his station better.” - </p> - <p> - “Trowkt!” cried mine host, “ye ken Ivie o' Maryland, Ivie my brither?” - </p> - <p> - “He is my grandfather's miller at Carvel Hall,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Syne ye maun be nane ither than Mr. Richard Carvel. Yere servan', Mr. - Carvel,” and he made me a low bow, to the great dropping of jaws round - about, and led me into the inn. With trembling hands he took a packet from - his cabinet and showed me the letters, twenty-three in all, which Ivie had - written home since he had gone out as the King's passenger in '45. The - sight of them brought tears to my eyes and carried me out of the Scotch - mist back to dear old Maryland. I had no trouble in convincing mine host - that I was the lad eulogized in the scrawls, and he put hand on the very - sheet which announced my birth, nineteen years since,—the fourth - generation of Carvels Ivie had known. - </p> - <p> - So it came that the captain and I got the best chaise and pair in place of - the worst, and sat down to a breakfast such as was prepared only for my - Lord Selkirk when he passed that way, while I told the landlord of his - brother; and as I talked I remembered the day I had caught the arm of the - mill and gone the round, to find that Ivie had written of that, too! - </p> - <p> - After that our landlord would not hear of a reckoning. I might stay a - month, a year, at the “Twa Naigs” if I wished. As for John Paul, who - seemed my friend, he would say nothing, only to advise me privately that - the man was queer company, shaking his head when I defended him. He came - to me with ten guineas, which he pressed me to take for Ivies sake, and - repay when occasion offered. I thanked him, but was of no mind to accept - money from one who thought ill of my benefactor. - </p> - <p> - The refusal of these recalled the chaise, and I took the trouble to - expostulate with the captain on that score, pointing out as delicately as - I might that, as he had brought me to Scotland, I held it within my right - to incur the expense of the trip to London, and that I intended to - reimburse him when I saw Mr. Dix. For I knew that his wallet was not over - full, since he had left the half of his savings with his mother. Much to - my secret delight, he agreed to this as within the compass of a - gentleman's acceptance. Had he not, I had the full intention of leaving - him to post it alone, and of offering myself to the master of the first - schooner. - </p> - <p> - Despite the rain, and the painful scenes gone through but yesterday, and - the sour-looking ring of men and women gathered to see the start, I was in - high spirits as we went spinning down the Carlisle road, with my heart - leaping to the crack of the postilion's whip. - </p> - <p> - I was going to London and to Dorothy! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII. ON THE ROAD - </h2> - <p> - Many were the ludicrous incidents we encountered on our journey to London. - As long as I live, I shall never forget John Paul's alighting upon the - bridge of the Sark to rid himself of a mighty farewell address to Scotland - he had been composing upon the road. And this he delivered with such - appalling voice and gesture as to frighten to a standstill a chaise on the - English side of the stream, containing a young gentleman in a scarlet coat - and a laced hat, and a young lady who sobbed as we passed them. They were, - no doubt, running to Gretna Green to be married. - </p> - <p> - Captain Paul, as I have said, was a man of moods, and strangely affected - by ridicule. And this we had in plenty upon the road. Landlords, grooms, - and'ostlers, and even our own post-boys, laughed and jested coarsely at - his sky-blue frock, and their sallies angered him beyond all reason, while - they afforded me so great an amusement that more than once I was on the - edge of a serious falling-out with him as a consequence of my merriment. - Usually, when we alighted from our vehicle, the expression of mine host - would sour, and his sir would shift to a master; while his servants would - go trooping in again, with many a coarse fling that they would get no - vails from such as we. And once we were invited into the kitchen. He would - be soar for half a day at a spell after a piece of insolence out of the - common, and then deliver me a solemn lecture upon the advantages of birth - in a manor. Then his natural buoyancy would lift him again, and he would - be in childish ecstasies at the prospect of getting to London, and seeing - the great world; and I began to think that he secretly cherished the hope - of meeting some of its votaries. For I had told him, casually as possible, - that I had friends in Arlington Street, where I remembered the Manners - were established. - </p> - <p> - “Arlington Street!” he repeated, rolling the words over his tongue; “it - has a fine sound, laddie, a fine sound. That street must be the very acme - of fashion.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed, and replied that I did not know. And at the ordinary of the - next inn we came to, he took occasion to mention to me, in a louder voice - than was necessary, that I would do well to call in Arlington Street as we - went into town. So far as I could see, the remark did not compel any - increase of respect from our fellow-diners. - </p> - <p> - Upon more than one point I was worried. Often and often I reflected that - some hitch might occur to prevent my getting money promptly from Mr. Dix. - Days would perchance elapse before I could find the man in such a great - city as London; he might be out of town at this season, Easter being less - than a se'nnight away. For I had heard my grandfather say that the elder - Mr. Dix had a house in some merchant's suburb, and loved to play at being - a squire before he died. Again (my heart stood at the thought), the - Manners might be gone back to America. I cursed the stubborn pride which - had led the captain to hire a post-chaise, when the wagon had served us so - much better, and besides relieved him of the fusillade of ridicule he got - travelling as a gentleman. But such reflections always ended in my - upbraiding myself for blaming him whose generosity had rescued me from - perhaps a life-long misery. - </p> - <p> - But, on the whole, we rolled southward happily, between high walls and - hedges, past trim gardens and fields and meadows, and I marvelled at the - regular, park-like look of the country, as though stamped from one design - continually recurring, like our butter at Carvel Hall. The roads were - sometimes good, and sometimes as execrable as a colonial byway in winter, - with mud up to the axles. And yet, my heart went out to this country, the - home of my ancestors. Spring was at hand; the ploughboys whistled between - the furrows, the larks circled overhead, and the lilacs were cautiously - pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with the perfume of living - things. - </p> - <p> - The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scanty indeed, - and more than once we were told to go farther down the street, that the - inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind was troubled about - John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to the best hotels in the - larger towns, declaring that there we should meet the people of fashion. - Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered that such people never - came to the ordinary, but were served in their own rooms by their own - servants. - </p> - <p> - “I shall know them yet,” he would vow, as we started off of a morning, - after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. “Am I - not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a difficulty many - before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the history, and the - poets. And the French language, though I have never made the grand tour. I - flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By the help of your friends, I - shall have a title or two for acquaintances before I leave London; and - when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I know of who will give me - employment, if I have not obtained preferment.” - </p> - <p> - The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And I - had not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was, I - knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier for a - camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross the - thresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers is hard, - and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name. - </p> - <p> - “We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul,” I said, “and waste no - time upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James's and - the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchance his Majesty - himself,” I added, attempting merriment, for the notion of seeing Dolly - only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knew nothing of Dolly. - </p> - <p> - “So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you,” he said reproachfully. - “Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can make friends - without going to Arlington Street.” - </p> - <p> - I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech. - </p> - <p> - “And a time will come when they shall know me,” he went on. “If they - insult me now they shall pay dearly for it.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear captain,” I cried; “nobody will insult you, and least of all my - friends, the Manners.” I had my misgivings about little Mr. Marmaduke. - “But we are, neither of us, equipped for a London season. I am but an - unknown provincial, and you—” I paused for words. - </p> - <p> - For a sudden realization had come upon me that our positions were now - reversed. It seemed strange that I should be interpreting the world to - this man of power. - </p> - <p> - “And I?” he repeated bitterly. - </p> - <p> - “You have first to become an admiral,” I replied, with inspiration; “Drake - was once a common seaman.” - </p> - <p> - He did not answer. But that evening as we came into Windsor, I perceived - that he had not abandoned his intentions. The long light flashed on the - peaceful Thames, and the great, grim castle was gilded all over its - western side. - </p> - <p> - The captain leaned out of the window. - </p> - <p> - “Postilion,” he called, “which inn here is most favoured by gentlemen?” - </p> - <p> - “The Castle,” said the boy, turning in his saddle to grin at me. “But if I - might be so bold as to advise your honour, the 'Swan' is a comfortable - house, and well attended.” - </p> - <p> - “Know your place, sirrah,” shouted the captain, angrily, “and drive us to - the 'Castle.'” - </p> - <p> - The boy snapped his whip disdainfully, and presently pulled us up at the - inn, our chaise covered with the mud of three particular showers we had - run through that day. And, as usual, the landlord, thinking he was about - to receive quality, came scraping to the chaise door, only to turn with a - gesture of disgust when he perceived John Paul's sea-boxes tied on behind, - and the costume of that hero, as well as my own. - </p> - <p> - The captain demanded a room. But mine host had turned his back, when - suddenly a thought must have struck him, for he wheeled again. - </p> - <p> - “Stay,” he cried, glancing suspiciously at the sky-blue frock; “if you are - Mr. Dyson's courier, I have reserved a suite.” - </p> - <p> - This same John Paul, who was like iron with mob and mutiny, was pitiably - helpless before such a prop of the aristocracy. He flew into a rage, and - rated the landlord in Scotch and English, and I was fain to put my tongue - in my cheek and turn my back that my laughter might not anger him the - more. - </p> - <p> - And so I came face to face with another smile, behind a spying-glass,—a - smile so cynical and unpleasant withal that my own was smothered. A tall - and thin gentleman, who had come out of the inn without a hat, was - surveying the dispute with a keen delight. He was past the middle age. His - clothes bore that mark which distinguishes his world from the other, but - his features were so striking as to hold my attention unwittingly. - </p> - <p> - After a while he withdrew his glass, cast one look at me which might have - meant anything, and spoke up. - </p> - <p> - “Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting a gentleman - to your house?” - </p> - <p> - I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, or - I. Goble bowed at the speaker. - </p> - <p> - “A gentleman, your honour!” he gasped. “Your honour is joking again. - Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor the - longshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan.'” - </p> - <p> - “Jews' finery!” shouted the captain, with his fingers on his sword. - </p> - <p> - But the stranger held up a hand deprecatingly. - </p> - <p> - “'Pon my oath, Goble, I gave you credit for more penetration,” he drawled; - “you may be right about the Scotchman, but your longshore lout has had - both birth and breeding, or I know nothing.” - </p> - <p> - John Paul, who was in the act of bowing to the speaker, remained petrified - with his hand upon his heart, entirely discomfited. The landlord forsook - him instantly for me, then stole a glance at his guest to test his - seriousness, and looked at my face to see how greatly it were at variance - with my clothes. The temptation to lay hands on the cringing little - toadeater grew too strong for me, and I picked him up by the scruff of the - collar,—he was all skin and bones,—and spun him round like a - corpse upon a gibbet, while he cried mercy in a voice to wake the dead. - The slim gentleman under the sign laughed until he held his sides, with a - heartiness that jarred upon me. It did not seem to fit him. - </p> - <p> - “By Hercules and Vulcan,” he cried, when at last I had set the landlord - down, “what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in the - house, Goble, and sup with me.” - </p> - <p> - Goble pulled himself together. - </p> - <p> - “And he is your honour's friend,” he began, with a scowl. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, he is my friend, I tell you,” retorted the important personage, - impatiently. - </p> - <p> - The innkeeper, sulky, half-satisfied, yet fearing to offend, welcomed us - with what grace he could muster, and we were shown to “The Fox and the - Grapes,” a large room in the rear of the house. - </p> - <p> - John Paul had not spoken since the slim gentleman had drawn the - distinction between us, and I knew that the affront was rankling in his - breast. He cast himself into a chair with such an air of dejection as made - me pity him from my heart. But I had no consolation to offer. His first - words, far from being the torrent of protest I looked for, almost startled - me into laughter. - </p> - <p> - “He can be nothing less than a duke,” said the captain. “Ah, Richard, see - what it is to be a gentleman!” - </p> - <p> - “Fiddlesticks! I had rather own your powers than the best title in - England,” I retorted sharply. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head sorrowfully, which made me wonder the more that a man of - his ability should be unhappy without this one bauble attainment. - </p> - <p> - “I shall begin to believe the philosophers have the right of it,” he - remarked presently. “Have you ever read anything of Monsieur Rousseau's, - Richard?” - </p> - <p> - The words were scarce out of his mouth when we heard a loud rap on the - door, which I opened to discover a Swiss fellow in a private livery, come - to say that his master begged the young gentleman would sup with him. The - man stood immovable while he delivered this message, and put an impudent - emphasis upon the gentleman. - </p> - <p> - “Say to your master, whoever he may be,” I replied, in some heat at the - man's sneer, “that I am travelling with Captain Paul. That any invitation - to me must include him.” - </p> - <p> - The lackey stood astounded at my answer, as though he had not heard - aright. Then he retired with less assurance than he had come, and John - Paul sprang to his feet and laid his hands upon my shoulders, as was his - wont when affected. He reproached himself for having misjudged me, and - added a deal more that I have forgotten. - </p> - <p> - “And to think,” he cried, “that you have forgone supping with a nobleman - on my account!” - </p> - <p> - “Pish, captain, 'tis no great denial. His Lordship—if Lordship he is—is - stranded in an inn, overcome with ennui, and must be amused. That is all.” - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless I think the good captain was distinctly disappointed, not - alone because I gave up what in his opinion was a great advantage, but - likewise because I could have regaled him on my return with an account of - the meal. For it must be borne in mind, my dears, that those days are not - these, nor that country this one. And in judging Captain Paul it must be - remembered that rank inspired a vast respect when King George came to the - throne. It can never be said of John Paul that he lacked either - independence or spirit. But a nobleman was a nobleman then. - </p> - <p> - So when presently the gentleman himself appeared smiling at our door, - which his servant had left open, we both of us rose up in astonishment and - bowed very respectfully, and my face burned at the thought of the message - I had sent him. For, after all, the captain was but twenty-one and I - nineteen, and the distinguished unknown at least fifty. He took a pinch of - snuff and brushed his waistcoat before he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Egad,” said he, with good nature, looking up at me, “Mohammed was a - philosopher, and so am I, and come to the mountain. 'Tis worth crossing an - inn in these times to see a young man whose strength has not been wasted - upon foppery. May I ask your name, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Richard Carvel,” I answered, much put aback. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Carvel,” he repeated; “I know three or four of that name. Perhaps you - are Robert Carvel's son, of Yorkshire. But what the devil do you do in - such clothes? I was resolved to have you though I am forced to take a - dozen watchet-blue mountebanks in the bargain.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I warn you not to insult my friend,” I cried, in a temper again. - </p> - <p> - “There, there, not so loud, I beg you,” said he, with a gesture. “Hot as - pounded pepper,—but all things are the better for a touch of it. I - had no intention of insulting the worthy man, I give my word. I must have - my joke, sir. No harm meant.” And he nodded at John Paul, who looked as if - he would sink through the floor. “Robert Carvel is as testy as the devil - with the gout, and you are not unlike him in feature.” - </p> - <p> - “He is no relation of mine,” I replied, undecided whether to laugh or be - angry. And then I added, for I was very young, “I am an American, and heir - to Carvel Hall in Maryland.” - </p> - <p> - “Lord, lord, I might have known,” exclaimed he. “Once I had the honour of - dining with your Dr. Franklin, from Pennsylvania. He dresses for all the - world like you, only worse, and wears a hat I would not be caught under at - Bagnigge Wells, were I so imprudent as to go there.” - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Franklin has weightier matters than hats to occupy him, sir,” I - retorted. For I was determined to hold my own. - </p> - <p> - He made a French gesture, a shrug of his thin shoulders, which caused me - to suspect he was not always so good-natured. - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Franklin would better have stuck to his newspaper, my young friend,” - said he. “But I like your appearance too well to quarrel with you, and - we'll have no politics before eating. Come, gentlemen, come! Let us see - what Goble has left after his shaking.” - </p> - <p> - He struck off with something of a painful gait, which he explained was - from the gout. And presently we arrived at his parlour, where supper was - set out for us. I had not tasted its equal since I left Maryland. We sat - down to a capon stuffed with eggs, and dainty sausages, and hot rolls, - such as we had at home; and a wine which had cobwebbed and mellowed under - the Castle Inn for better than twenty years. The personage did not drink - wine. He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble because he had not been - given iced water. While he was tapping on the table I took occasion to - observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike the stranger, not by reason - of its nobility, but because of its oddity. He had a prodigious length of - face, the nose long in proportion, but not prominent. The eyes were dark, - very bright, and wide apart, with little eyebrows dabbed over them at a - slanting angle. The thin-lipped mouth rather pursed up, which made his - smile the contradiction it was. In short, my dears, while I do not lay - claim to the reading of character, it required no great astuteness to - perceive the scholar, the man of the world, and the ascetic—and all - affected. His conversation bore out the summary. It astonished us. It - encircled the earth, embraced history and letters since the world began. - And added to all this, he had a thousand anecdotes on his tongue's tip. - His words he chose with too great a nicety; his sentences were of a - foreign formation, twisted around; and his stories were illustrated with - French gesticulations. He threw in quotations galore, in Latin, and - French, and English, until the captain began casting me odd, uncomfortable - looks, as though he wished himself well out of the entertainment. Indeed, - poor John Paul's perturbation amused me more than the gentleman's - anecdotes. To be ill at ease is discouraging to any one, but it was - peculiarly fatal with the captain. This arch-aristocrat dazzled him. When - he attempted to follow in the same vein he would get lost. And his really - considerable learning counted for nothing. He reached the height of his - mortification when the slim gentleman dropped his eyelids and began to - yawn. I was wickedly delighted. He could not have been better met. Another - such encounter, and I would warrant the captain's illusions concerning the - gentry to go up in smoke. Then he might come to some notion of his own - true powers. As for me, I enjoyed the supper which our host had insisted - upon our partaking, drank his wine, and paid him very little attention. - </p> - <p> - “May I make so bold as to ask, sir, whether you are a patron of - literature?” said the captain, at length. - </p> - <p> - “A very poor patron, my dear man,” was the answer. “Merely a humble - worshipper at the shrine. And I might say that I partake of its benefits - as much as a gentleman may. And yet,” he added, with a laugh and a cough, - “those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me a literary - man.” - </p> - <p> - “And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is coming - on,” said he, “perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr. Carvel, - and of your friend, Captain Paul. And how you come to be so far from - home.” And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man who has - bought his right to an opera box. - </p> - <p> - Here was my chance. And I resolved that if I did not further enlighten - John Paul, it would be no fault of mine. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, “I was kidnapped - by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony, who had - designs upon my grandfather's fortune. I was taken abroad in a slaver and - carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discovered that the - captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates. For one day all hands - got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captain raised the skull - and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest. I was forced to climb - the main rigging in order to escape being hacked to pieces.” - </p> - <p> - He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half an - inch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity. John Paul - was no less astonished at my little ruse. - </p> - <p> - “Holy Saint Clement!” exclaimed our host; “pirates! This begins to have a - flavour indeed. And yet you do not seem to be a lad with an imagination. - Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say, with Alceste: - 'Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.' But pray go on, sir. - You have but to call for pen and ink to rival Mr. Fielding.” - </p> - <p> - With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him a - bow. And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same. - </p> - <p> - “I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir,” I said. “Sir, your - humble servant. I wish you a very good evening.” He rose precipitately, - crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm. - </p> - <p> - “Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated,” he said, in some agitation. - “Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyes on - you until to-night. Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery? But I - should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit. Pray be - seated, captain.” - </p> - <p> - I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored my - point, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism. I - told my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listened - with every mark of attention and interest. Indeed, to my surprise, he - began to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed him - capable. - </p> - <p> - “What a find! what a find!” he continued to exclaim, when I had finished. - “And true. You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” I replied, “I thought we had thrashed that out.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, to be sure. I beg pardon,” said he. And then to his servant: - “Colomb, is my writing-tablet unpacked?” - </p> - <p> - I was more mystified than ever as to his identity. Was he going to put the - story in a magazine? - </p> - <p> - After that he seemed plainly anxious to be rid of us. I bade him good - night, and he grasped my hand warmly enough. Then he turned to the captain - in his most condescending manner. But a great change had come over John - Paul. He was ever quick to see and to learn, and I rejoiced to remark that - he did not bow over the hand, as he might have done two hours since. He - was again Captain Paul, the man, who fought his way on his own merits. He - held himself as tho' he was once more pacing the deck of the John. - </p> - <p> - The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass, - soused it with water, and held it up. - </p> - <p> - “Here's to your future, my good captain,” he said, “and to Mr. Carvel's - safe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail to - go to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and let him - remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And put up at - the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have friends in - London.” - </p> - <p> - I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry. - </p> - <p> - “You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel,” he - added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. “A strange yarn indeed, - captain.” - </p> - <p> - “And therefore,” said the captain, coolly, “as a stranger give it welcome. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'” - </pre> - <p> - Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been more - taken aback. - </p> - <p> - “What! What's this?” he cried. “You quote Hamlet! And who the devil are - you, sir, that you know my name?” - </p> - <p> - “Your name, sir!” exclaims the captain, in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Well, well,” he said, stepping back and eying us closely, “'tis no - matter. Good night, gentlemen, good night.” - </p> - <p> - And we went to bed with many a laugh over the incident. - </p> - <p> - “His name must be Horatio. We'll discover it in the morning,” said John - Paul. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII. LONDON TOWN - </h2> - <p> - But he had not risen when we set out, nor would the illnatured landlord - reveal his name. It mattered little to me, since I desired to forget him - as quickly as possible. For here was one of my own people of quality, a - gentleman who professed to believe what I told him, and yet would do no - more for me than recommend me an inn and a tailor; while a poor - sea-captain, driven from his employment and his home, with no better - reason to put faith in my story, was sharing with me his last penny. - Goble, in truth, had made us pay dearly for our fun with him, and the hum - of the vast unknown fell upon our ears with the question of lodging still - unsettled. The captain was for going to the Star and Garter, the inn the - gentleman had mentioned. I was in favour of seeking a more modest and less - fashionable hostelry. - </p> - <p> - “Remember that you must keep up your condition, Richard,” said John Paul. - </p> - <p> - “And if all English gentlemen are like our late friend,” I said, “I would - rather stay in a city coffee-house. Remember that you have only two - guineas left after paying for the chaise, and that Mr. Dix may be out of - town.” - </p> - <p> - “And your friends in Arlington Street?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “May be back in Maryland,” said I; and added inwardly, - </p> - <p> - “God forbid!” - </p> - <p> - “We shall have twice the chance at the Star and Garter. They will want a - show of gold at a humbler place, and at the Star we may carry matters with - a high hand. Pick out the biggest frigate,” he cried, for the tenth time, - at least, “or the most beautiful lady, and it will surprise you, my lad, - to find out how many times you will win.” - </p> - <p> - I know of no feeling of awe to equal that of a stranger approaching for - the first time a huge city. The thought of a human multitude is ever - appalling as that of infinity itself, a human multitude with its infinity - of despairs and joys, disgraces and honours, each small unit with all the - world in its own brain, and all the world out of it! Each intent upon his - own business or pleasure, and striving the while by hook or crook to keep - the ground from slipping beneath his feet. For, if he falls, God help him! - </p> - <p> - Yes, here was London, great and pitiless, and the fear of it was upon our - souls as we rode into it that day. - </p> - <p> - Holland House with its shaded gardens, Kensington Palace with the broad - green acres of parks in front of it stitched by the silver Serpentine, and - Buckingham House, which lay to the south over the hill,—all were one - to us in wonder as they loomed through the glittering mist that softened - all. We met with a stream of countless wagons that spoke of a trade beyond - knowledge, sprinkled with the equipages of the gentry floating upon it; - coach and chaise, cabriolet and chariot, gorgeously bedecked with heraldry - and wreaths; their numbers astonished me, for to my mind the best of them - were no better than we could boast in Annapolis. One matter, which brings - a laugh as I recall it, was the oddity to me of seeing white coachmen and - footmen. - </p> - <p> - We clattered down St. James's Street, of which I had often heard my - grandfather speak, and at length we drew up before the Star and Garter in - Pall Mall, over against the palace. The servants came hurrying out, headed - by a chamberlain clad in magnificent livery, a functionary we had not - before encountered. John Paul alighted to face this personage, who, the - moment he perceived us, shifted his welcoming look to one of such - withering scorn as would have daunted a more timid man than the captain. - Without the formality of a sir he demanded our business, which started the - inn people and our own boy to snickering, and made the passers-by pause - and stare. Dandies who were taking the air stopped to ogle us with their - spying-glasses and to offer quips, and behind them gathered the flunkies - and chairmen awaiting their masters at the clubs and coffee-houses near - by. What was my astonishment, therefore, to see a change in the captain's - demeanour. Truly for quick learning and the application of it I have never - known his equal. His air became the one of careless ease habitual to the - little gentleman we had met at Windsor, and he drew from his pocket one of - his guineas, which he tossed in the man's palm. - </p> - <p> - “Here, my man,” said he, snapping his fingers; “an apartment at once, or - you shall pay for this nonsense, I promise you.” And walked in with his - chin in the air, so grandly as to dissolve ridicule into speculation. - </p> - <p> - For an instant the chamberlain wavered, and I trembled, for I dreaded a - disgrace in Pall Mall, where the Manners might hear of it. Then fear, or - hope of gain, or something else got the better of him, for he led us to a - snug, well-furnished suite of a parlour and bedroom on the first floor, - and stood bowing in the doorway for his honour's further commands. They - were of a sort to bring the sweat to my forehead. - </p> - <p> - “Have a fellow run to bid Davenport, the tailor, come hither as fast as - his legs will carry him. And you may make it known that this young - gentleman desires a servant, a good man, mind you, with references, who - knows a gentleman's wants. He will be well paid.” - </p> - <p> - That name of Davenport was a charm,—the mention of a servant was its - finishing touch. The chamberlain bent almost double, and retired, closing - the door softly behind him. And so great had been my surprise over these - last acquirements of the captain that until now I had had no breath to - expostulate. - </p> - <p> - “I must have my fling, Richard,” he answered, laughing; “I shall not be a - gentleman long. I must know how it feels to take your ease, and stroke - your velvet, and order lackeys about. And when my money is gone I shall be - content to go to sea again, and think about it o' stormy nights.” - </p> - <p> - This feeling was so far beyond my intelligence that I made no comment. And - I could not for the life of me chide him, but prayed that all would come - right in the end. - </p> - <p> - In less than an hour Davenport himself arrived, bristling with importance, - followed by his man carrying such a variety of silks and satins, flowered - and plain, and broadcloths and velvets, to fill the furniture. And close - behind the tailor came a tall haberdasher from Bond Street, who had got - wind of a customer, with a bewildering lot of ruffles and handkerchiefs - and neckerchiefs, and bows of lawn and lace which (so he informed us) - gentlemen now wore in the place of solitaires. Then came a hosier and a - bootmaker and a hatter; nay, I was forgetting a jeweller from Temple Bar. - And so imposing a front did the captain wear as he picked this and - recommended the other that he got credit for me for all he chose, and - might have had more besides. For himself he ordered merely a modest street - suit of purple, the sword to be thrust through the pocket, Davenport - promising it with mine for the next afternoon. For so much discredit had - been cast upon his taste on the road to London that he was resolved to - remain indoors until he could appear with decency. He learned quickly, as - I have said. - </p> - <p> - By the time we had done with these matters, which I wished to perdition, - some score of applicants was in waiting for me. And out of them I hired - one who had been valet to the young Lord Rereby, and whose recommendation - was excellent. His name was Banks, his face open and ingenuous, his - stature a little above the ordinary, and his manner respectful. I had - Davenport measure him at once for a suit of the Carvel livery, and bade - him report on the morrow. - </p> - <p> - All this while, my dears, I was aching to be off to Arlington Street, but - a foolish pride held me back. I had heard so much of the fashion in which - the Manners moved that I feared to bring ridicule upon them in poor - MacMuir's clothes. But presently the desire to see Dolly took such hold - upon me that I set out before dinner, fought my way past the chairmen and - chaisemen at the door, and asked my way of the first civil person I - encountered. 'Twas only a little rise up the steps of St. James's Street, - Arlington Street being but a small pocket of Piccadilly, but it seemed a - dull English mile; and my heart thumped when I reached the corner, and the - houses danced before my eyes. I steadied myself by a post and looked - again. At last, after a thousand leagues of wandering, I was near her! But - how to choose between fifty severe and imposing mansions? I walked on - toward that endless race of affairs and fashion, Piccadilly, scanning - every door, nay, every window, in the hope that I might behold my lady's - face framed therein. Here a chair was set down, there a chariot or a coach - pulled up, and a clocked flunky bowing a lady in. But no Dorothy. Finally, - when I had near made the round of each side, I summoned courage and asked - a butcher's lad, whistling as he passed me, whether he could point out the - residence of Mr. Manners. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” he replied, looking me over out of the corner of his eye, “that I - can. But y'ell not get a glimpse o' the beauty this day, for she's but - just off to Kensington with a coachful o' quality.” - </p> - <p> - And he led me, all in a tremble over his answer, to a large stone dwelling - with arched windows, and pillared portico with lanthorns and link - extinguishers, an area and railing beside it. The flavour of generations - of aristocracy hung about the place, and the big knocker on the carved - door seemed to regard with such a forbidding frown my shabby clothes that - I took but the one glance (enough to fix it forever in my memory), and - hurried on. Alas, what hope had I of Dorothy now! - </p> - <p> - “What cheer, Richard?” cried the captain when I returned; “have you seen - your friends?” - </p> - <p> - I told him that I had feared to disgrace them, and so refrained from - knocking—a decision which he commended as the very essence of - wisdom. Though a desire to meet and talk with quality pushed him hard, he - would not go a step to the ordinary, and gave orders to be served in our - room, thus fostering the mystery which had enveloped us since our arrival. - Dinner at the Star and Garter being at the fashionable hour of half after - four, I was forced to give over for that day the task of finding Mr. Dix. - </p> - <p> - That evening—shall I confess it?—I spent between the Green - Park and Arlington Street, hoping for a glimpse of Miss Dolly returning - from Kensington. - </p> - <p> - The next morning I proclaimed my intention of going to Mr. Dix. - </p> - <p> - “Send for him,” said the captain. “Gentlemen never seek their men of - affairs.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” I cried; “I can contain myself in this place no longer. I must be - moving.” - </p> - <p> - “As you will, Richard,” he replied, and giving me a queer, puzzled look he - settled himself between the Morning Post and the Chronicle. - </p> - <p> - As I passed the servants in the lower hall, I could not but remark an - altered treatment. My friend the chamberlain, more pompous than ever, - stood erect in the door with a stony stare, which melted the moment he - perceived a young gentleman who descended behind me. I heard him cry out - “A chaise for his Lordship!” at which command two of his assistants ran - out together. Suspicion had plainly gripped his soul overnight, and this, - added to mortified vanity at having been duped, was sufficient for him to - allow me to leave the inn unattended. Nor could I greatly blame him, for - you must know, my dears, that at that time London was filled with - adventurers of all types. - </p> - <p> - I felt a deal like an impostor, in truth, as I stepped into the street, - disdaining to inquire of any of the people of the Star and Garter where an - American agent might be found. The day was gray and cheerless, the colour - of my own spirits as I walked toward the east, knowing that the city lay - that way. But I soon found plenty to distract me. - </p> - <p> - To a lad such as I, bred in a quiet tho' prosperous colonial town, a walk - through London was a revelation. Here in the Pall Mall the day was not yet - begun, tho' for some scarce ended. I had not gone fifty paces from the - hotel before I came upon a stout gentleman with twelve hours of claret - inside him, brought out of a coffee-house and put with vast difficulty - into his chair; and I stopped to watch the men stagger off with their load - to St. James's Street. Next I met a squad of redcoated guards going to the - palace, and after them a grand coach and six rattled over the Scotch - granite, swaying to a degree that threatened to shake off the footmen - clinging behind. Within, a man with an eagle nose sat impassive, and I set - him down for one of the king's ministers. - </p> - <p> - Presently I came out into a wide space, which I knew to be Charing Cross - by the statue of Charles the First which stood in the centre of it, and - the throat of a street which was just in front of me must be the Strand. - Here all was life and bustle. On one hand was Golden's Hotel, and a - crowded mail-coach was dashing out from the arch beneath it, the horn - blowing merrily; on the other hand, so I was told by a friendly man in - brown, was Northumberland House, the gloomy grandeur whereof held my eyes - for a time. And I made bold to ask in what district were those who had - dealings with the colonies. He scanned me with a puzzling look of - commiseration. - </p> - <p> - “Ye're not a-going to sell yereself for seven year, my lad?” said he. “I - was near that myself when I was young, and I thank God' to this day that I - talked first to an honest man, even as you are doing. They'll give ye a - pretty tale,—the factors,—of a land of milk and honey, when - it's naught but stripes and curses yell get.” - </p> - <p> - And he was about to rebuke me hotly, when I told him I had come from - Maryland, where I was born. - </p> - <p> - “Why, ye speak like a gentleman!” he exclaimed. “I was informed that all - talk like naygurs over there. And is it not so of your redemptioners?” - </p> - <p> - I said that depended upon the master they got. - </p> - <p> - “Then I take it ye are looking for the lawyers, who mostly represent the - planters. And y e'll find them at the Temple or Lincoln's Inn.” - </p> - <p> - I replied that he I sought was not an attorney, but a man of business. - Whereupon he said that I should find all those in a batch about the North - and South American Coffee House, in Threadneedle Street. And he pointed me - into the Strand, adding that I had but to follow my nose to St. Paul's, - and there inquire. - </p> - <p> - I would I might give you some notion of the great artery of London in - those days, for it has changed much since I went down it that heavy - morning in April, 1770, fighting my way. Ay, truly, fighting my way, for - the street then was no place for the weak and timid, when bullocks ran - through it in droves on the way to market, when it was often jammed from - wall to wall with wagons, and carmen and truckmen and coachmen swung their - whips and cursed one another to the extent of their lungs. Near St. - Clement Danes I was packed in a crowd for ten minutes while two of these - fellows formed a ring and fought for the right of way, stopping the - traffic as far as I could see. Dustmen, and sweeps, and even beggars, - jostled you on the corners, bullies tried to push you against the posts or - into the kennels; and once, in Butchers' Row, I was stopped by a flashy, - soft-tongued fellow who would have lured me into a tavern near by. - </p> - <p> - The noises were bedlam ten times over. Shopmen stood at their doors and - cried, “Rally up, rally up, buy, buy, buy!” venders shouted saloop and - barley, furmity, Shrewsbury cakes and hot peascods, rosemary and lavender, - small coal and sealing-wax, and others bawled “Pots to solder!” and - “Knives to grind!” Then there was the incessant roar of the heavy wheels - over the rough stones, and the rasp and shriek of the brewers' sledges as - they moved clumsily along. As for the odours, from that of the roasted - coffee and food of the taverns, to the stale fish on the stalls, and - worse, I can say nothing. They surpassed imagination. - </p> - <p> - At length, upon emerging from Butchers' Row, I came upon some stocks - standing in the street, and beheld ahead of me a great gateway stretching - across the Strand from house to house. - </p> - <p> - Its stone was stained with age, and the stern front of it seemed to mock - the unseemly and impetuous haste of the tide rushing through its arches. I - stood and gazed, nor needed one to tell me that those two grinning skulls - above it, swinging to the wind on the pikes, were rebel heads. Bare and - bleached now, and exposed to a cruel view, but once caressed by loving - hands, was the last of those whose devotion to the house of Stuart had - brought from their homes to Temple Bar. - </p> - <p> - I halted by the Fleet Market, nor could I resist the desire to go into St. - Paul's, to feel like a pebble in a bell under its mighty dome; and it - lacked but half an hour of noon when I had come out at the Poultry and - finished gaping at the Mansion House. I missed Threadneedle Street and - went down Cornhill, in my ignorance mistaking the Royal Exchange, with its - long piazza and high tower, for the coffeehouse I sought: in the great - hall I begged a gentleman to direct me to Mr. Dix, if he knew such a - person. He shrugged his shoulders, which mystified me somewhat, but - answered with a ready good-nature that he was likely to be found at that - time at Tom's Coffee House, in Birchin Lane near by, whither I went with - him. He climbed the stairs ahead of me and directed me, puffing, to the - news room, which I found filled with men, some writing, some talking - eagerly, and others turning over newspapers. The servant there looked me - over with no great favour, but on telling him my business he went off, and - returned with a young man of a pink and white complexion, in a green - riding-frock, leather breeches, and top boots, who said: - </p> - <p> - “Well, my man, I am Mr. Dix.” - </p> - <p> - There was a look about him, added to his tone and manner, set me strong - against him. I knew his father had not been of this stamp. - </p> - <p> - “And I am Mr. Richard Carvel, grandson to Mr. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel - Hall, in Maryland,” I replied, much in the same way. - </p> - <p> - He thrust his hands into his breeches and stared very hard. - </p> - <p> - “You?” he said finally, with something very near a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, a gentleman's word usually suffices!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - He changed his tone a little. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “but we men of business have need to - be careful. Let us sit, and I will examine your letters. Your - determination must have been suddenly taken,” he added, “for I have - nothing from Mr. Carvel on the subject of your coming.” - </p> - <p> - “Letters! You have heard nothing!” I gasped, and there stopped short and - clinched the table. “Has not my grandfather written of my disappearance?” - </p> - <p> - Immediately his expression went back to the one he had met me with. - “Pardon me,” he said again. - </p> - <p> - I composed myself as best I could in the face of his incredulity, - swallowing with an effort the aversion I felt to giving him my story. - </p> - <p> - “I think it strange he has not informed you,” I said; “I was kidnapped - near Annapolis last Christmas-time, and put on board of a slaver, from - which I was rescued by great good fortune, and brought to Scotland. And I - have but just made my way to London.” - </p> - <p> - “The thing is not likely, Mr.—, Mr.—,” he said, drumming - impatiently on the board. - </p> - <p> - Then I lost control of myself. - </p> - <p> - “As sure as I am heir to Carvel Hall, Mr. Dix,” I cried, rising, “you - shall pay for your insolence by forfeiting your agency!” - </p> - <p> - Now the roan was a natural coward, with a sneer for some and a smirk for - others. He went to the smirk. - </p> - <p> - “I am but looking to Mr. Carvel's interests the best I know how,” he - replied; “and if indeed you be Mr. Richard Carvel, then you must applaud - my caution, sir, in seeking proofs.” - </p> - <p> - “Proofs I have none,” I cried; “the very clothes on my back are borrowed - from a Scotch seaman. My God, Mr. Dix, do I look like a rogue?” - </p> - <p> - “Were I to advance money upon appearances, sir, I should be insolvent in a - fortnight. But stay,” he cried uneasily, as I flung back my chair, “stay, - sir. Is there no one of your province in the town to attest your - identity?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that there is,” I said bitterly; “you shall hear from Mr. Manners - soon, I promise you.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray, Mr. Carvel,” he said, overtaking me on the stairs, “you will surely - allow the situation to be—extraordinary, you will surely commend my - discretion. Permit me, sir, to go with you to Arlington Street.” And he - sent a lad in haste to the Exchange for a hackney-chaise, which was soon - brought around. - </p> - <p> - I got in, somewhat mollified, and ashamed of my heat: still disliking the - man, but acknowledging he had the better right on his side. True to his - kind he gave me every mark of politeness now, asked particularly after Mr. - Carvel's health, and encouraged me to give him as much of my adventure as - I thought proper. But what with the rattle of the carriage and the street - noises and my disgust, I did not care to talk, and presently told him as - much very curtly. He persisted, how: ever, in pointing out the sights, the - Fleet prison, and where the Ludgate stood six years gone; and the Devil's - Tavern, of old Ben Jonson's time, and the Mitre and the Cheshire Cheese - and the Cock, where Dr. Johnson might be found near the end of the week at - his dinner. He showed me the King's Mews above Charing Cross, and the - famous theatre in the Haymarket, and we had but turned the corner into - Piccadilly when he cried excitedly at a passing chariot: - </p> - <p> - “There, Mr. Carvel, there go my Lord North and Mr. Rigby!” - </p> - <p> - “The devil take them, Mr. Dix!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - He was silent after that, glancing at me covertly from while to while - until we swung into Arlington Street. Before I knew we were stopped in - front of the house, but as I set foot on the step I found myself - confronted by a footman in the Manners livery, who cried out angrily to - our man: “Make way, make way for his Grace of Chartersea!” Turning, I saw - a coach behind, the horses dancing at the rear wheels of the chaise. We - alighted hastily, and I stood motionless, my heart jumping quick and hard - in the hope and fear that Dorothy was within, my eye fixed on the coach - door. But when the footman pulled it open and lowered the step, out lolled - a very broad man with a bloated face and little, beady eyes without a - spark of meaning, and something very like a hump was on the top of his - back. He wore a yellow top-coat, and red-heeled shoes of the latest - fashion, and I settled at once he was the Duke of Chartersea. - </p> - <p> - Next came little Mr. Manners, stepping daintily as ever; and then, as the - door closed with a bang, I remembered my errand. They had got halfway to - the portico. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - He faced about, and his Grace also, and both stared in wellbred surprise. - As I live, Mr. Manners looked into my face, into my very eyes, and gave no - sign of recognition. And what between astonishment and anger, and a - contempt that arose within me, I could not speak. - </p> - <p> - “Give the man a shilling, Manners,” said his Grace; “we can't stay here - forever.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, give the man a shilling,” lisped Mr. Manners to the footman. And they - passed into the house, and the door eras shut. - </p> - <p> - Then I heard Mr. Dix at my elbow, saying in a soft voice: “Now, my fine - gentleman, is there any good reason why you should not ride to Bow Street - with me?” - </p> - <p> - “As there is a God in heaven. Mr. Dix,” I answered, very low, “if you - attempt to lay hands on me, you shall answer for it! And you shall hear - from me yet, at the Star and Garter hotel.” - </p> - <p> - I spun on my heel and left him, nor did he follow; and a great lump was in - my throat and tears welling in my eyes. - </p> - <p> - What would John Paul say? - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV. CASTLE YARD - </h2> - <p> - But I did not go direct to the Star and Garter. No, I lacked the courage - to say to John Paul: “You have trusted me, and this is how I have rewarded - your faith.” And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all men, had served - me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with a bitterness I had - never before conceived. And when my brain became clearer I reflected that - Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my disappearance from Maryland, - and that his action had been one of design, and of cold blood. But I gave - to Dorothy or her mother no part in it. Mr. Manners never had had cause to - hate me, and the only reason I could assign was connected with his Grace - of Chartersea, which I dismissed as absurd. - </p> - <p> - A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was, nor - how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a huckster - told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall Mall. The - usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but I noticed a - couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt dress, and heard - a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the stairs and fumbled - at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and the door was suddenly - and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a big, rough-looking man - with his hands on his hips. - </p> - <p> - “Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a wry - face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired, - resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the corner - perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man - disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were thrown - on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat across the - room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the rest: “The lot of - them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. Martin's Lane!” - </p> - <p> - In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the - haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the - confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes - Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and - looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted with - relief at sight of me. - </p> - <p> - “Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?” he cried. And turning to - the man confronting me, he added, “This gentleman will settle their - beggarly accounts.” - </p> - <p> - Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me. - </p> - <p> - “Likely,” laughed the big man; “I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to - pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them.” - </p> - <p> - They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply. - But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the trouble - I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went up to - him. - </p> - <p> - “My dear friend,” I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, “I beg, I pray - that you will not lose faith in me,—that you will not think any - deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know me, - and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr. - Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the - Duke of Chartersea.” - </p> - <p> - And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face, - shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness. - </p> - <p> - “What,” I heard him cry, “Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all the law - in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your fairweather fowl - shall have the chance to run me through!” - </p> - <p> - I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses. - </p> - <p> - “You believe me, captain,” I said, overcome by the man's faith; “you - believe me when I tell you that one I have known from childhood refused to - recognize me to-day?” - </p> - <p> - He raised me in his arms as tenderly as a woman might. - </p> - <p> - “And the whole world denied you, lad, I would not. I believe you—” - and he repeated it again and again, unable to get farther. - </p> - <p> - And if his words brought tears to my eyes, my strength came with them. - </p> - <p> - “Then I care not,” I replied; “I only to live to reward you.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners shall answer for it to me!” cried John Paul again, and made a - pace toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “Not so fast, not so fast, captain, or admiral, or whatever you are,” said - the bailiff, stepping in his way, for he was used to such scenes; “as God - reigns, the owners of all these fierce titles be fire-eaters, who would - spit you if you spilt snuff upon 'em. Come, come, gentlemen, your swords, - and we shall see the sights o' London.” - </p> - <p> - This was the signal for another uproar, the tailor shrieking that John - Paul must take off the suit, and Banks the livery; asking the man in the - corner by the sea-chests (who proved to be the landlord) who was to pay - him for his work and his lost cloth. And the landlord shook his fist at us - and shouted back, who was to pay him his four pounds odd, which included - two ten-shilling dinners and a flask of his best wine? The other tradesmen - seized what was theirs and made off with remarks appropriate to the - occasion. And when John Paul and my man were divested of their plumes, we - were marched downstairs and out through a jeering line of people to a - hackney coach. - </p> - <p> - “Now, sirs, whereaway?” said the bailiff when we were got in beside one of - his men, and burning with the shame of it; “to the prison? Or I has a very - pleasant hotel for gentlemen in Castle Yard.” - </p> - <p> - The frightful stories my dear grandfather had told me of the Fleet came - flooding into my head, and I shuddered and turned sick. I glanced at John - Paul. - </p> - <p> - “A guinea will not go far in a sponging-house,” said he, and the bailiff's - man laughed. - </p> - <p> - The bailiff gave a direction we did not hear, and we drove off. He proved - a bluff fellow with a bloat yet not unkindly humour, and despite his - calling seemed to have something that was human in him. He passed many a - joke on that pitiful journey in an attempt to break our despondency, - urging us not to be downcast, and reminding us that the last gentleman he - had taken from Pall Mall was in over a thousand pounds, and that our - amount was a bagatelle. And when we had gone through Temple Bar, instead - of keeping on down Fleet Street, we jolted into Chancery Lane. This roused - me. - </p> - <p> - “My friend has warned you that he has no money,” I said, “and no more have - I.” - </p> - <p> - The bailiff regarded me shrewdly. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” he replied, “I know. But I has seen many stripes o' men in my time, - my masters, and I know them to trust, and them whose silver I must feel or - send to the Fleet.” - </p> - <p> - I told him unreservedly my case, and that he must take his chance of being - paid; that I could not hear from America for three months at least. He - listened without much show of attention, shaking his head from side to - side. - </p> - <p> - “If you ever cheated a man, or the admiral here either, then I begin over - again,” he broke in with decision; “it is the fine sparks from the clubs I - has to watch. You'll not worry, sir, about me. Take my oath I'll get - interest out of you on my money.” - </p> - <p> - Unwilling as we both were to be beholden to a bailiff, the alternative of - the Fleet was too terrible to be thought of. And so we alighted after him - with a shiver at the sight of the ugly, grimy face of the house, and the - dirty windows all barred with double iron. In answer to a knock we were - presently admitted by a turnkey to a vestibule as black as a tomb, and the - heavy outer door was locked behind us. Then, as the man cursed and groped - for the keyhole of the inner door, despair laid hold of me. - </p> - <p> - Once inside, in the half light of a narrow hallway, a variety of noises - greeted our ears,—laughter from above and below, interspersed with - oaths; the click of billiard balls, and the occasional hammering of a pack - of cards on a bare table before the shuffle. The air was close almost to - suffocation, and out of the coffee room, into which I glanced, came a - heavy cloud of tobacco smoke. - </p> - <p> - “Why, my masters, why so glum?” said the bailiff; “my inn is not such a - bad place, and you'll find ample good company here, I promise you.” - </p> - <p> - And he led us into a dingy antechamber littered with papers, on every one - of which, I daresay, was written a tragedy. Then he inscribed our names, - ages, descriptions, and the like in a great book, when we followed him up - three flights to a low room under the eaves, having but one small window, - and bare of furniture save two narrow cots for beds, a broken chair, and a - cracked mirror. He explained that cash boarders got better, and added that - we might be happy we were not in the Fleet. - </p> - <p> - “We dine at two here, gentlemen, and sup at eight. This is not the Star - and Garter,” said he as he left us. - </p> - <p> - It was the captain who spoke first, though he swallowed twice before the - words came out. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Richard, come, laddie,” he said, “'tis no so bad it micht-na be - waur. We'll mak the maist o' it.” - </p> - <p> - “I care not for myself, Captain Paul,” I replied, marvelling the more at - him, “but to think that I have landed you here, that this is my return for - your sacrifice.” - </p> - <p> - “Hoots! How was ye to foresee Mr. Manners was a blellum?” And he broke - into threats which, if Mr. Marmaduke had heard and comprehended, would - have driven him into the seventh state of fear. “Have you no other friends - in London?” he asked, regaining his English. - </p> - <p> - I shook my head. Then came—a question I dreaded. - </p> - <p> - “And Mr. Manners's family?” - </p> - <p> - “I would rather remain here for life,” I said, “than to them now.” - </p> - <p> - For pride is often selfish, my dears, and I did not reflect that if I - remained, the captain would remain likewise. - </p> - <p> - “Are they all like Mr. Manners?” - </p> - <p> - “That they are not,” I returned with more heat than was necessary; “his - wife is goodness itself, and his daughter—” Words failed me, and I - reddened. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, he has a daughter, you say,” said the captain, casting a significant - look at me and beginning to pace the little room. He was keener than I - thought, this John Paul. - </p> - <p> - If it were not so painful a task, my dears, I would give you here some - notion of what a London sponging-house was in the last century. Comyn has - heard me tell of it, and I have seen Bess cry over the story. Gaming was - the king-vice of that age, and it filled these places to overflowing. - Heaven help a man who came into the world with that propensity in the - early days of King George the Third. Many, alas, acquired it before they - were come to years of discretion. Next me, at the long table where we were - all thrown in together,—all who could not pay for private meals,—sat - a poor fellow who had flung away a patrimony of three thousand a year. - Another had even mortgaged to a Jew his prospects on the death of his - mother, and had been seized by the bailiffs outside of St. James's palace, - coming to Castle Yard direct from his Majesty's levee. Yet another, with - such a look of dead hope in his eyes as haunts me yet, would talk to us by - the hour of the Devonshire house where he was born, of the green valley - and the peaceful stream, and of the old tower-room, caressed by trees, - where Queen Bess had once lain under the carved oak rafters. Here he had - taken his young wife, and they used to sit together, so he said, in the - sunny oriel over the water, and he had sworn to give up the cards. That - was but three years since, and then all had gone across the green cloth in - one mad night in St. James's Street. Their friends had deserted them, and - the poor little woman was lodged in Holborn near by, and came every - morning with some little dainty to the bailiff's, for her liege lord who - had so used her. He pressed me to share a fowl with him one day, but it - would have choked me. God knows where she got the money to buy it. I saw - her once hanging on his neck in the hall, he trying to shield her from the - impudent gaze of his fellow-lodgers. - </p> - <p> - But some of them lived like lords in luxury, with never a seeming regret; - and had apartments on the first floor, and had their tea and paper in bed, - and lounged out the morning in a flowered nightgown, and the rest of the - day in a laced coat. These drank the bailiff's best port and champagne, - and had nothing better than a frown or haughty look for us, when we passed - them at the landing. Whence the piper was paid I knew not, and the bailiff - cared not. But the bulk of the poor gentlemen were a merry crew withal, - and had their wit and their wine at table, and knew each other's histories - (and soon enough ours) by heart. They betted away the week at billiards or - whist or picquet or loo, and sometimes measured swords for diversion, tho' - this pastime the bailiff was greatly set against; as calculated to deprive - him of a lodger. - </p> - <p> - Although we had no money for gaming, and little for wine or tobacco, the - captain and I were received very heartily into the fraternity. After one - afternoon of despondency we both voted it the worst of bad policy to - remain aloof and nurse our misfortune, and spent our first evening in - making acquaintances over a deal of very thin “debtor's claret.” I tossed - long that night on the hard cot, listening to the scurrying rats among the - roof-timbers. They ran like the thoughts in my brain. And before I slept I - prayed again and again that God would put it in my power to reward him - whom charity for a friendless foundling had brought to a debtor's prison. - </p> - <p> - Not so much as a single complaint or reproach had passed his lips! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV. THE RESCUE - </h2> - <p> - Perchance, my dears, if John Paul and I had not been cast by accident in a - debtor's prison, this great man might never have bestowed upon our country - those glorious services which contributed so largely to its liberty. And I - might never have comprehended that the American Revolution was brought on - and fought by a headstrong king, backed by unscrupulous followers who held - wealth above patriotism. It is often difficult to lay finger upon the - causes which change the drift of a man's opinions, and so I never wholly - knew why John Paul abandoned his deep-rooted purpose to obtain advancement - in London by grace of the accomplishments he had laboured so hard to - attain. But I believe the beginning was at the meeting at Windsor with the - slim and cynical gentleman who had treated him to something between - patronage and contempt. Then my experience with Mr. Manners had so - embedded itself in his mind that he could never speak of it but with - impatience and disgust. And, lastly, the bailiff's hotel contained many - born gentlemen who had been left here to rot out the rest of their dreary - lives by friends who were still in power and opulence. More than once when - I climbed to our garret I found the captain seated on the three-legged - chair, with his head between his hands, sunk in reflection. - </p> - <p> - “You were right, Richard,” said he; “your great world is a hard world for - those in the shadow of it. I see now that it must not be entered from - below, but from the cabin window. A man may climb around it, lad, and when - he is above may scourge it.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will scourge it, captain!” I had no doubt of his ability one day - to do it. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and snap my fingers at it. 'Tis a pretty organization, this society, - which kicks the man who falls to the dogs. None of your fine gentlemen for - me!” - </p> - <p> - And he would descend to talk politics with our fellow-guests. We should - have been unhappy indeed had it not been for this pastime. It seems to me - strange that these debtors took such a keen interest in outside affairs, - even tho' it was a time of great agitation. We read with eagerness the - cast-off newspapers of the first-floor gentlemen. One poor devil who had - waddled (failed) in Change Alley had collected under his mattress the - letters of Junius, then selling the Public Advertiser as few publications - had ever sold before. John Paul devoured these attacks upon his Majesty - and his ministry in a single afternoon, and ere long he had on the tip of - his tongue the name and value of every man in Parliament and out of it. He - learned, almost by heart, the history of the astonishing fight made by Mr. - Wilkes for the liberties of England, and speedily was as good a Whig and a - better than the member from Middlesex himself. - </p> - <p> - The most of our companions were Tories, for, odd as it may appear, they - retained their principles even in Castle Yard. And in those days to be a - Tory was to be the friend of the King, and to be the friend of the King - was to have some hope of advancement and reward at his hand. They had - none. The captain joined forces with the speculator from the Alley, who - had hitherto contended against mighty odds, and together they bore down - upon the enemy—ay, and rooted him, too. For John Paul had an air - about him and a natural gift of oratory to command attention, and shortly - the dining room after dinner became the scene of such contests as to call - up in the minds of the old stagers a field night in the good days of Mr. - Pitt and the second George. The bailiff often sat by the door, an - interested spectator, and the macaroni lodgers condescended to come - downstairs and listen. The captain attained to fame in our little world - from his maiden address, in which he very shrewdly separated the political - character of Mr. Wilkes from his character as a private gentleman, and so - refuted a charge of profligacy against the people's champion. - </p> - <p> - Altho' I never had sufficient confidence in my powers to join in these - discussions, I followed them zealously, especially when they touched - American questions, as they frequently did. This subject of the wrongs of - the colonies was the only one I could ever be got to study at King - William's School, and I believe that my intimate knowledge of it gave the - captain a surprise. He fell into the habit of seating himself on the edge - of my bed after we had retired for the night, and would hold me talking - until the small hours upon the injustice of taxing a people without their - consent, and upon the multitude of measures of coercion which the King had - pressed upon us to punish our resistance. He declaimed so loudly against - the tyranny of quartering troops upon a peaceable state that our exhausted - neighbours were driven to pounding their walls and ceilings for peace. The - news of the Boston massacre had not then reached England. - </p> - <p> - I was not, therefore, wholly taken by surprise when he said to me one - night: - </p> - <p> - “I am resolved to try my fortune in America, lad. That is the land for - such as I, where a man may stand upon his own merits.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, we shall go together, captain,” I answered heartily, “if we are - ever free of this cursed house. And you shall taste of our hospitality at - Carvel Hall, and choose that career which pleases you. Faith, I could - point you a dozen examples in Annapolis of men who have made their way - without influence. But you shall have influence,” I cried, glowing at the - notion of rewarding him; “you shall experience Mr. Carvel's gratitude and - mine. You shall have the best of our ships, and you will.” - </p> - <p> - He was a man to take fire easily, and embraced me. And, strange to say, - neither he nor I saw the humour, nor the pity, of the situation. How many - another would long before have become sceptical of my promises! And - justly. For I had led him to London, spent all his savings, and then got - him into a miserable prison, and yet he had faith remaining, and to spare! - </p> - <p> - It occurred to me to notify Mr. Dix of my residence in Castle Yard, not - from any hope that he would turn his hand to my rescue, but that he might - know where to find me if he heard from Maryland. And I penned another - letter to Mr. Carvel, but a feeling I took no pains to define compelled me - to withhold an account of Mr. Manners's conduct. And I refrained from - telling him that I was in a debtor's prison. For I believe the thought of - a Carvel in a debtor's prison would have killed him. I said only that we - were comfortably lodged in a modest part of London; that the Manners were - inaccessible (for I could not bring myself to write that they were out of - town). Just then a thought struck me with such force that I got up with a - cheer and hit the astonished captain between the shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “How now!” he cried, ruefully rubbing himself. “If these are thy - amenities, Richard, Heaven spare me thy blows.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I have been a fool, and worse,” I shouted. “My grandfather's ship, - the Sprightly Bess, is overhauling this winter in the Severn. And unless - she has sailed, which I think unlikely, I have but to despatch a line to - Bristol to summon Captain Bell, the master, to London. I think he will - bring the worthy Mr. Dix to terms.” - </p> - <p> - “Whether he will or no,” said John Paul, hope lighting his face, “Bell - must have command of the twenty pounds to free us, and will take us back - to America. For I must own, Richard, that I have no great love for - London.” - </p> - <p> - No more had I. I composed this letter to Bell in such haste that my hand - shook, and sent it off with a shilling to the bailiff's servant, that it - might catch the post. And that afternoon we had a two-shilling bottle of - port for dinner, which we shared with a broken-down parson who had been - chaplain in ordinary to my Lord Wortley, and who had preached us an Easter - sermon the day before. For it was Easter Monday. Our talk was broken into - by the bailiff, who informed me that a man awaited me in the passage, and - my heart leaped into my, throat. - </p> - <p> - There was Banks. Thinking he had come to reproach me; I asked him rather - sharply what he wanted. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other and - looked sheepish. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, sir,” said he, “but your honour must be very ill-served - here.” - </p> - <p> - “Better than I should be, Banks, for I have no money,” I said, wondering - if he thought me a first-floor lodger. - </p> - <p> - He made no immediate reply to that, either, but seemed more uneasy still. - And I took occasion to note his appearance. He was exceeding neat in a - livery of his old master, which he had stripped of the trimmings. Then, - before I had guessed at his drift, he thrust his hand inside his coat and - drew forth a pile of carefully folded bank notes. - </p> - <p> - “I be a single man, sir, and has small need of this. And and I knows your - honour will pay me when your letter comes from America.” - </p> - <p> - And he handed me five Bank of England notes of ten pounds apiece. I took - them mechanically, without knowing what I did. The generosity of the act - benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the offer - upon the impulse of it. - </p> - <p> - “How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?” I asked - curiously. - </p> - <p> - “No fear, sir,” he replied promptly, actually brightening at the prospect. - “I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will go to America - with you, and you say the word, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce - knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me - again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes - upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the - sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of a - servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off, first - getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my - release. - </p> - <p> - On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the appearance - of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us lest he had - already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's letters - contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to keep in - humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had gone. - Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I know - not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, not daring - to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,—that the Sprightly - Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over the dreary stretch of - roofs and down into a dingy court of Bernard's Inn below, when suddenly - there arose a commotion on the stairs, as of a man mounting hastily. The - door was almost flung from its hinges, some one caught me by the - shoulders, gazed eagerly into my face, and drew back. For a space I - thought myself dreaming. I searched my memory, and the name came. Had it - been Dorothy, or Mr. Carvel himself, I could not have been more - astonished, and my knees weakened under me. - </p> - <p> - “Jack!” I exclaimed; “Lord Comyn!” - </p> - <p> - He seized my hand. “Yes; Jack, whose life you saved, and no other,” he - cried, with a sailor's impetuosity. “My God, Richard! it was true, then; - and you have been in this place for three weeks!” - </p> - <p> - “For three weeks,” I repeated. - </p> - <p> - He looked at me, at John Paul, who was standing by in bewilderment, and - then about the grimy, cobwebbed walls of the dark garret, and then turned - his back to hide his emotion, and so met the bailiff, who was coming in. - </p> - <p> - “For how much are these gentlemen in your books?” he demanded hotly. - </p> - <p> - “A small matter, your Lordship,—a mere trifle,” said the man, - bowing. - </p> - <p> - “How much, I say?” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-two guineas, five shillings, and eight pence, my Lord, counting - debts, and board,—and interest,” the bailiff glibly replied; for he - had no doubt taken off the account when he spied his Lordship's coach. - “And I was very good to Mr. Carvel and the captain, as your Lordship will - discover—” - </p> - <p> - “D—n your goodness!” said my Lord, cutting him short. - </p> - <p> - And he pulled out a wallet and threw some pieces at the bailiff, bidding - him get change with all haste. “And now, Richard,” he added, with a glance - of disgust about him, “pack up, and we'll out of this cursed hole!” - </p> - <p> - “I have nothing to pack, my Lord,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “My Lord! Jack, I have told you, or I leave you here.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, Jack, and you will,” said I, overflowing with thankfulness to - God for the friends He had bestowed upon me. “But before we go a step, - Jack, you must know the man but for whose bravery I should long ago have - been dead of fever and ill-treatment in the Indies, and whose generosity - has brought him hither. My Lord Comyn, this is Captain John Paul.” - </p> - <p> - The captain, who had been quite overwhelmed by this sudden arrival of a - real lord to our rescue at the very moment when we had sunk to despair, - and no less astonished by the intimacy that seemed to exist between the - newcomer and myself, had the presence of mind to bend his head, and that - was all. Comyn shook his hand heartily. - </p> - <p> - “You shall not lack reward for this, captain, I promise you,” cried he. - “What you have done for Mr. Carvel, you have done for me. Captain, I thank - you. You shall have my interest.” - </p> - <p> - I flushed, seeing John Paul draw his lips together. But how was his - Lordship to know that he was dealing with no common sea-captain? - </p> - <p> - “I have sought no reward, my Lord,” said he. “What I have done was out of - friendship for Mr. Carvel, solely.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn was completely taken by surprise by these words, and by the haughty - tone in which they were spoken. He had not looked for a gentleman, and no - wonder. He took a quizzical sizing of the sky-blue coat. Such a man in - such a station was out of his experience. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, I believe you, captain,” he answered, in a voice which said plainly - that he did not. “But he shall be rewarded nevertheless, eh, Richard? I'll - see Charles Fox in this matter to-morrow. Come, come,” he added - impatiently, “the bailiff must have his change by now. Come, Richard!” and - he led the way down the winding stairs. - </p> - <p> - “You must not take offence at his ways,” I whispered to the captain. For I - well knew that a year before I should have taken the same tone with one - not of my class. “His Lordship is all kindness.” - </p> - <p> - “I have learned a bit since I came into England, Richard,” was his sober - reply. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas a pitiful sight to see gathered on the landings the poor fellows we - had come to know in Castle Yard, whose horizons were then as gray as ours - was bright. But they each had a cheery word of congratulation for us as we - passed, and the unhappy gentleman from Devonshire pressed my hand and - begged that I would sometime think of him when I was out under the sky. I - promised even more, and am happy to be able to say, my dears, that I saw - both him and his wife off for America before I left London. Our eyes were - wet when we reached the lower hall, and I was making for the door in an - agony to leave the place, when the bailiff came out of his little office. - </p> - <p> - “One moment, sir,” he said, getting in front of me; “there is a little - form yet to be gone through. The haste of gentlemen to leave us is not - flattering.” - </p> - <p> - He glanced slyly at Comyn, and his Lordship laughed a little. I stepped - unsuspectingly into the office. - </p> - <p> - “Richard!” - </p> - <p> - I stopped across the threshold as tho' I had been struck. The late - sunlight filtering through the dirt of the window fell upon the tall - figure of a girl and lighted an upturned face, and I saw tears glistening - on the long lashes. - </p> - <p> - It was Dorothy. Her hands were stretched out in welcome, and then I had - them pressed in my own. And I could only look and look again, for I was - dumb with joy. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God you are alive!” she cried; “alive and well, when we feared you - dead. Oh, Richard, we have been miserable indeed since we had news of your - disappearance.” - </p> - <p> - “This is worth it all, Dolly,” I said, only brokenly. - </p> - <p> - She dropped her eyes, which had searched me through in wonder and pity,—those - eyes I had so often likened to the deep blue of the sea,—and her - breast rose and fell quickly with I knew not what emotions. How the mind - runs, and the heart runs, at such a time! Here was the same Dorothy I had - known in Maryland, and yet not the same. For she was a woman now, who had - seen the great world, who had refused both titles and estates,—and - perchance accepted them. She drew her hands from mine. - </p> - <p> - “And how came you in such a place?” she asked, turning with a shudder. - “Did you not know you had friends in London, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Not for so much again would I have told her of Mr. Manners's conduct. So I - stood confused, casting about for a reply with truth in it, when Comyn - broke in upon us. - </p> - <p> - “I'll warrant you did not look for her here, Richard. Faith, but you are a - lucky dog,” said my Lord, shaking his head in mock dolefulness; “for there - is no man in London, in the world, for whom she would descend a flight of - steps, save you. And now she has driven the length of the town when she - heard you were in a sponging-house, nor all the dowagers in Mayfair could - stop her.” - </p> - <p> - “Fie, Comyn,” said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; “that - tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's - privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you - know you were full as keen for his rescue as I.” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship pinched me playfully. - </p> - <p> - “I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - “But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?” asked Dolly, - stamping her foot. - </p> - <p> - “What,” I exclaimed; “you know the story?” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind,” said she; “bring him here.” - </p> - <p> - My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul - since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and took - him by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “A lady wishes to know you, captain,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “A lady!” he cried. “Here? Impossible!” And he looked at his clothes. - </p> - <p> - “Who cares more for your heart than your appearance,” I answered gayly, - and led him into the office. - </p> - <p> - At sight of Dorothy he stopped abruptly, confounded, as a man who sees a - diamond in a dust-heap. And a glow came over me as I said: - </p> - <p> - “Miss Manners, here is Captain Paul, to whose courage and unselfishness I - owe everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” said Dorothy, graciously extending her hand, “Richard has many - friends. You have put us all in your debt, and none deeper than his old - playmate.” - </p> - <p> - The captain fairly devoured her with his eyes as she made him a curtsey. - But he was never lacking in gallantry, and was as brave on such occasions - as when all the dangers of the deep threatened him. With an elaborate - movement he took Miss Manners's fingers and kissed them, and then swept - the floor with a bow. - </p> - <p> - “To have such a divinity in my debt, madam, is too much happiness for one - man,” he said. “I have done nothing to merit it. A lifetime were all too - short to pay for such a favour.” - </p> - <p> - I had almost forgotten Miss Dolly the wayward, the mischievous. But she - was before me now, her eyes sparkling, and biting her lips to keep down - her laughter. Comyn turned to fleck the window with his handkerchief, - while I was not a little put out at their mirth. But if John Paul observed - it, he gave no sign. - </p> - <p> - “Captain, I vow your manners are worthy of a Frenchman,” said my Lord; - “and yet I am given to understand you are a Scotchman.” - </p> - <p> - A shadow crossed the captain's face. - </p> - <p> - “I was, sir,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “You were!” exclaimed Comyn, astonished; “and pray, what are you now, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Henceforth, my Lord,” John Paul replied with vast ceremony: “I am an - American, the compatriot of the beautiful Miss Manners!” - </p> - <p> - “One thing I'll warrant, captain,” said his Lordship, “that you are a - wit.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 5. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI. THE PART HORATIO PLAYED - </h2> - <p> - The bailiff's business was quickly settled. I heard the heavy doors close - at our backs, and drew a deep draught of the air God has made for all His - creatures alike. Both the captain and I turned to the windows to wave a - farewell to the sad ones we were leaving behind, who gathered about the - bars for a last view of us, for strange as it may seem, the mere sight of - happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad. A coach in private - arms and livery was in waiting, surrounded by a crowd. They made a lane - for us to pass, and stared at the young lady of queenly beauty coming out - of the sponging-house until the coachman snapped his whip in their faces - and the footman jostled them back. When we were got in, Dolly and I on the - back seat, Comyn told the man to go to Mr. Manners's. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no!” I cried, scarce knowing what I said; “no, not there!” For the - thought of entering the house in Arlington Street was unbearable. - </p> - <p> - Both Comyn and Dorothy gazed at me in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “And pray, Richard, why not'?” she asked. “Have not your old friends the - right to receive you.” - </p> - <p> - It was my Lord who saved me, for I was in agony what to say. - </p> - <p> - “He is still proud, and won't go to Arlington Street dressed like a - bargeman. He must needs plume, Miss Manners.” - </p> - <p> - I glanced anxiously at Dorothy, and saw that she was neither satisfied nor - appeased. Well I remembered every turn of her head, and every curve of her - lip! In the meantime we were off through Cursitor Street at a gallop, - nearly causing the death of a ragged urchin at the corner of Chancery - Lane. I had forgotten my eagerness to know whence they had heard of my - plight, when some words from Comyn aroused me. - </p> - <p> - “The carriage is Mr. Horace Walpole's, Richard. He has taken a great fancy - to you.” - </p> - <p> - “But I have never so much as clapped eyes upon him!” I exclaimed in - perplexity. - </p> - <p> - “How about his honour with whom you supped at Windsor? how about the - landlord you spun by the neck? You should have heard the company laugh - when Horry told us that! And Miss Dolly cried out that she was sure it - must be Richard, and none other. Is it not so, Miss Manners?” - </p> - <p> - “Really, my Lord, I can't remember,” replied Dolly, looking out of the - coach window. “Who put those frightful skulls upon Temple Bar?” - </p> - <p> - Then the mystery of their coming was clear to me, and the superior - gentleman at the Castle Inn had been the fashionable dabbler in arts and - letters and architecture of Strawberry Hill, of whom I remembered having - heard Dr. Courtenay speak, Horace Walpole. But I was then far too - concerned about Dorothy to listen to more. Her face was still turned away - from me, and she was silent. I could have cut out my tongue for my - blunder. Presently, when we were nearly out of the Strand, she turned upon - me abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “We have not yet heard, Richard,” she said, “how you got into such a - predicament.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I don't know myself, Dolly. Some scoundrel bribed the captain of - the slaver. For I take it Mr. Walpole has told you I was carried off on a - slaver, if he recalled that much of the story.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean that,” answered Dolly, impatiently. “There is something - strange about all this. How is it that you were in prison?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Dix, my grandfather's agent, took me for an impostor and would - advance me no money,” I answered, hard pushed. - </p> - <p> - But Dorothy had a woman's instinct, which is often the best of - understanding. And I was beginning to think that a suspicion was at the - bottom of her questions. She gave her head an impatient fling, and, as I - feared, appealed to John Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you can tell me, captain, why he did not come to his friends in - his trouble.” - </p> - <p> - And despite my signals to him he replied: “In truth, my dear lady, he - haunted the place for a sight of you, from the moment he set foot in - London.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn laughed, and I felt the blood rise to my face, and kicked John Paul - viciously. Dolly retained her self-possession. - </p> - <p> - “Pho!” says she; “for a sight of me! You seamen are all alike. For a sight - of me! And had you not strength enough to lift a knocker, sir,—you - who can raise a man from the ground with one hand?” - </p> - <p> - “'Twas before his tailor had prepared him, madam, and he feared to - disgrace you,” the captain gravely continued, and I perceived how futile - it were to attempt to stop him. “And afterward—” - </p> - <p> - “And afterward?” repeated Dorothy, leaning forward. - </p> - <p> - “And afterward he went to Arlington Street with Mr. Dix to seek Mr. - Manners, that he might be identified before that gentleman. He encountered - Mr. Manners and his Grace of Something.” - </p> - <p> - “Chartersea,” put in Comyn, who had been listening eagerly. “Getting out - of a coach,” said the captain. - </p> - <p> - “When was this?” demanded Dorothy of me, interrupting him. Her voice was - steady, but the colour had left her face. - </p> - <p> - “About three weeks ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Please be exact, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you must,” said I, “the day was Tuesday, and the time about half - an hour after two.” - </p> - <p> - She said nothing for a while, trying to put down an agitation which was - beginning to show itself in spite of her effort. As for me, I was almost - wishing myself back in the sponginghouse. - </p> - <p> - “Are you sure my father saw you?” she asked presently. - </p> - <p> - “As clearly as you do now, Dolly,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “But your clothes? He might have gone by you in such.” - </p> - <p> - “I pray that he did, Dorothy,” I replied. But I was wholly convinced that - Mr. Manners had recognized me. - </p> - <p> - “And—and what did he say?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - For she had the rare courage that never shrinks from the truth. I think I - have never admired and pitied her as at that moment. - </p> - <p> - “He said to the footman,” I answered, resolved to go through with it now, - “'Give the man a shilling.' That was his Grace's suggestion.” - </p> - <p> - My Lord uttered something very near an oath. And she spoke not a word more - until I handed her out in Arlington Street. The rest of us were silent, - too, Comyn now and again giving me eloquent glances expressive of what he - would say if she were not present; the captain watching her with a furtive - praise, and he vowed to me afterward she was never so beautiful as when - angry, that he loved her as an avenging Diana. But I was uneasy, and when - I stood alone with her before the house I begged her not to speak to her - father of the episode. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, he must be cleared of such an imputation, Richard,” she answered - proudly. “He may have made mistakes, but I feel sure he would never turn - you away when you came to him in trouble—you, the grandson of his - old friend, Lionel Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - “Why bother over matters that are past and gone? I would have borne an - hundred such trials to have you come to me as you came to-day, Dorothy. - And I shall surely see you again,” I said, trying to speak lightly; “and - your mother, to whom you will present my respects, before I sail for - America.” - </p> - <p> - She looked up at me, startled. - </p> - <p> - “Before you sail for America!” she exclaimed, in a tone that made me - thrill at once with joy and sadness. “And are you not, then, to see London - now you are here?” - </p> - <p> - “Are you never coming back, Dolly?” I whispered; for I feared Mr. - Marmaduke might appear at any moment; “or do you wish to remain in England - always?” - </p> - <p> - For an instant I felt her pressure on my hand, and then she had fled into - the house, leaving me standing by the steps looking after her. Comyn's - voice aroused me. - </p> - <p> - “To the Star and Garter!” I heard him command, and on the way to Pall Mall - he ceased not to rate Mr. Manners with more vigour than propriety. “I - never liked the little cur, d—n him! No one likes him, Richard,” he - declared. “All the town knows how Chartersea threw a bottle at him, and - were it not for his daughter he had long since been put out of White's. - Were it not for Miss Dolly I would call him out for this cowardly trick, - and then publish him.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, my Lord, I had held that as my privilege,” interrupted the captain, - “were it not, as you say, for Miss Manners.” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship shot a glance at John Paul somewhat divided between surprise, - resentment, and amusement. - </p> - <p> - “Now you have seen the daughter, captain, you perceive it is impossible,” - I hastened to interpose. - </p> - <p> - “How in the name of lineage did she come to have such a father?” Comyn - went on. “I thank Heaven he's not mine. He's not fit to be her lackey. I - would sooner twenty times have a profligate like my Lord Sandwich for a - parent than a milk and water sop like Manners, who will risk nothing over - a crown piece at play or a guinea at Newmarket. By G—, Richard,” - said his Lordship, bringing his fist against the glass with near force - enough to break the pane, “I have a notion why he did not choose to see - you that day. Why, he has no more blood than a louse!” - </p> - <p> - I had come to the guess as soon as he, but I dared not give it voice, nor - anything but ridicule. And so we came to the hotel, the red of departing - day fading in the sky above the ragged house-line in St. James's Street. - </p> - <p> - It was a very different reception we got than when we had first come - there. You, my dears, who live in this Republic can have no notion of the - stir and bustle caused by the arrival of Horace Walpole's carriage at a - fashionable hotel, at a time when every innkeeper was versed in the arms - of every family of note in the three kingdoms. Our friend the chamberlain - was now humility itself, and fairly ran in his eagerness to anticipate - Comyn's demands. It was “Yes, my Lord,” and “To be sure, your Lordship,” - every other second, and he seized the first occasion to make me an - elaborate apology for his former cold conduct, assuring me that had our - honours been pleased to divulge the fact that we had friends in London, - such friends as my Lord Comyn and Mr. Walpole, whose great father he had - once had the distinction to serve as linkman, all would have been well. - And he was desiring me particularly to comprehend that he had been acting - under most disagreeable orders when he sent for the bailiff, before I cut - him short. - </p> - <p> - We were soon comfortably installed in our old rooms; Comyn had sent - post-haste for Davenport, who chanced to be his own tailor, and for the - whole army of auxiliaries indispensable to a gentleman's make-up; and Mr. - Dix was notified that his Lordship would receive him at eleven on the - following morning, in my rooms. I remembered the faithful Banks with a - twinge of gratitude, and sent for him. And John Paul and I, having been - duly installed in the clothes made for us, all three of us sat down - merrily to such a supper as only the cook of the Star and Garter, who had - been chef to the Comte de Maurepas, could prepare. Then I begged Comyn to - relate the story of our rescue, which I burned to hear. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard,” said he, filling his glass, “had you run afoul any other - man in London, save perchance Selwyn, you'd have been drinking the - bailiff's triple-diluted for a month to come. I never knew such a brace of - fools as he and Horry for getting hold of strange yarns and making them - stranger; the wonder was that Horry told this as straight as he did. He - has written it to all his friends on the Continent, and had he not been in - dock with the gout ever since he reached town, he would have told it at - the opera, and at a dozen routs and suppers. Beg pardon, captain,” said - he, turning to John Paul, “but I think 'twas your peacock coat that saved - you both, for it caught Horry's eye through the window, as you got out of - the chaise, and down he came as fast as he could hobble. - </p> - <p> - “Horry had a little dinner to-day in Arlington Street, where he lives, and - Miss Dorothy was there. I have told you, Richard, there has been no - sensation in town equal to that of your Maryland beauty, since Lady Sarah - Lennox. You may have some notion of the old beau Horry can be when he - tries, and he is over-fond of Miss Dolly—she puts him in mind of - some canvas or other of Sir Peter's. He vowed he had been saving this - piece de resistance, as he was pleased to call it, expressly for her, - since it had to do somewhat with Maryland. 'What d'ye think I met at - Windsor, Miss Manners?' he cries, before we had begun the second course. - </p> - <p> - “'Perhaps a repulse from his Majesty,' says Dolly, promptly. - </p> - <p> - “'Nay,' says Mr. Walpole, making a face, for he hates a laugh at his cost; - nothing less than a young American giant, with the attire of Dr. Benjamin - Franklin and the manner of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain. But he had a whiff - of deer leather about him, and shoulders and back and legs to make his - fortune at Hockley in the Hole, had he lived two generations since. And he - had with him a strange, Scotch sea-captain, who had rescued him from - pirates, bless you, no less. That is, he said he was a sea-captain; but he - talked French like a Parisian, and quoted Shakespeare like Mr. Burke or - Dr. Johnson. He may have been M. Caron de Beaumarchais, for I never saw - him, or a soothsayer, or Cagliostro the magician, for he guessed my name.' - </p> - <p> - “'Guessed your name!' we cried, for the story was out of the ordinary. - </p> - <p> - “'Just that,' answered he, and repeated some damned verse I never heard, - with Horatio in it, and made them all laugh.” - </p> - <p> - John Paul and I looked at each other in astonishment, and we, too, laughed - heartily. It was indeed an odd coincidence. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship continued: “'Well, be that as it may,' said Horry, 'he was an - able man of sagacity, this sea-captain, and, like many another, had a - penchant for being a gentleman. But he was more of an oddity than - Hertford's beast of Gevaudan, and was dressed like Salvinio, the monkey my - Lord Holland brought back from his last Italian tour.'” - </p> - <p> - I have laughed over this description since, my dears, and so has John - Paul. But at that time I saw nothing funny in it, and winced with him when - Comyn repeated it with such brutal unconsciousness. However, young - Englishmen of birth and wealth of that day were not apt to consider the - feelings of those they deemed below them. - </p> - <p> - “Come to your story. Comyn,” I cut in testily. - </p> - <p> - But his Lordship missed entirely the cause of my displeasure. - </p> - <p> - “Listen to him!” he exclaimed good-naturedly. “He will hear of nothing but - Miss Dolly. Well, Richard, my lad, you should have seen her as Horry went - on to tell that you had been taken from Maryland, with her head forward - and her lips parted, and a light in those eyes of hers to make a man fall - down and worship. For Mr. Lloyd, or some one in your Colony, had written - of your disappearance, and I vow bliss Dorothy has not been the same - since. Nor have I been the only one to remark it,” said he, waving off my - natural protest at such extravagance. “We have talked of you more than - once, she and I, and mourned you for dead. But I am off my course again, - as we sailors say, captain. Horry was describing how Richard lifted little - Goble by one hand and spun all the dignity out of him, when Miss Manners - broke in, being able to contain herself no longer. - </p> - <p> - “'An American, Mr. Walpole, and from Maryland?' she demanded. And the way - she said it made them all look at her. - </p> - <p> - “'Assurement, mademoiselle,' replied Horry, in his cursed French; and - perhaps you know him. He would gladden the heart of Frederick of Prussia, - for he stands six and three if an inch. I took such a fancy to the lad - that I invited him to sup with me, and he gave me back a message fit for - Mr. Wilkes to send to his Majesty, as haughty as you choose, that if I - desired him I must have his friend in the bargain. You Americans are the - very devil for independence, Miss Manners! 'Ods fish, I liked his spirit - so much I had his friend, Captain something or other—'and there he - stopped, caught by Miss Manners's appearance, for she was very white. - </p> - <p> - “'The name is Richard Carvel!' she cried. - </p> - <p> - “'I'll lay a thousand it was!' I shouted, rising in my chair. And the - company stared, and Lady Pembroke vowed I had gone mad. - </p> - <p> - “'Bless me, bless me, here's a romance for certain!' cried Horry; 'it - throws my “Castle of Otranto” in the shade' (“that's some damned book he - has written,” Comyn interjected). - </p> - <p> - “You may not believe me, Richard, when I say that Miss Dolly ate but - little after that, and her colour came and went like the red of a stormy - sunset at sea. 'Here's this dog Richard come to spill all our chances,' I - swore to myself. The company had been prodigiously entertained by the - tale, and clamoured for more, and when Horry had done I told how you had - fought me at Annapolis, and had saved my life. But Miss Manners sat very - still, biting her lip, and I knew she was sadly vexed that you had not - gone to her in Arlington Street. For a woman will reason thus,” said his - Lordship, winking wisely. “But I more than suspected something to have - happened, so I asked Horry to send his fellow Favre over to the Star and - Garter to see if you were there, tho' I was of three minds to let you go - to the devil. You should have seen her face when he came back to say that - you had been for three weeks in a Castle Yard sponging-house! Then Horry - said he would lend me his coach, and when it was brought around Miss - Manners took our breaths by walking downstairs and into it, nor would she - listen to a word of the objections cried by my Lady Pembroke and the rest. - You must know there is no stopping the beauty when she has made her mind. - And while they were all chattering on the steps I jumped in, and off we - drove, and you will be the most talked-of man in London to-morrow. I give - you Miss Manners!” cried his Lordship, as he ended. - </p> - <p> - We all stood to the toast, I with my blood a-tingle and my brain awhirl, - so that I scarce knew what I did. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII. IN WHICH I AM SORE TEMPTED - </h2> - <p> - “Who the devil is this John Paul, and what is to become of him?” asked - Comyn, as I escorted him downstairs to a chair. “You must give him two - hundred pounds, or a thousand, if you like, and let him get out. He can't - be coming to the clubs with you.” - </p> - <p> - And he pulled me into the coffee room after him. - </p> - <p> - “You don't understand the man, Comyn,” said I; “he isn't that kind, I tell - you. What he has done for me is out of friendship, as he says, and he - wouldn't touch a farthing save what I owe him.” - </p> - <p> - “Cursed if he isn't a rum sea-captain,” he answered, shrugging his - shoulders; “cursed if I ever ran foul of one yet who would refuse a couple - of hundred and call quits. What's he to do? Is he to live like a Lord of - the Treasury upon a master's savings?” - </p> - <p> - “Jack,” said I, soberly, resolved not to be angry, “I would willingly be - cast back in Castle Yard to-night rather than desert him, who might have - deserted me twenty times to his advantage. Mr. Carvel has not wealth - enough, nor I gratitude enough, to reward him. But if our family can make - his fortune, it shall be made. And I am determined to go with him to - America by the first packet I can secure.” - </p> - <p> - He clutched my arm with an earnestness to startle me. - </p> - <p> - “You must not leave England now,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “And why?” - </p> - <p> - “Because she will marry Chartersea if you do. And take my oath upon it, - you alone can save her from that.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense!” I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Listen, Richard. Mr. Manners's manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and - the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street. At - first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit. It is said,” he - whispered fearfully, “it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in his - power,—some question of honour, you understand, which will ruin him,—and - that even now the duke is in a position to force the marriage.” - </p> - <p> - He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho' - watching the effect of the intelligence upon me. I was, indeed, stunned. - </p> - <p> - “Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice,” my Lord - continued, “I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel. - And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man - alive. For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no!” I replied passionately; “you are deceived by the old liking she - has always had for me since we were children together.” I was deeply - touched by his friendship. “But tell me how that could affect this - marriage with Chartersea. I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice for - the family honour.” - </p> - <p> - He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick. - </p> - <p> - “There, curse you, there you are again!” he said, “showing how little you - know of women and of their pride. If she were sure that you loved her, she - would never marry Chartersea or any one else. She has had near the whole - of London at her feet, and toyed with it. Now she has been amusing herself - with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them. Titles, fame, - estates, will not move her.” - </p> - <p> - “If she were sure that I loved her!” I repeated, dazed by what he was - saying. “How you are talking, Comyn!” - </p> - <p> - “Just that. Ah, how I know her, Richard! She can be reckless beyond - notion. And if it were proved to her that you were in love with Miss - Swain, the barrister's daughter, over whom we were said to have fought, - she would as soon marry Chartersea, or March, or the devil, to show you - how little she cared.” - </p> - <p> - “With Patty Swain!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “But if she knew you did not care a rope's end for Patty, Mr. Marmaduke - and his reputation might go into exile together,” he continued, without - heeding. “So much for a woman's pride, I say. The day the news of your - disappearance arrived, Richard, she was starting out with a party to visit - Lord Carlisle's seat, Castle Howard. Not a step would she stir, though Mr. - Marmaduke whined and coaxed and threatened. And I swear to you she has - never been the same since, though few but I know why. I might tell you - more, my lad, were it not a breach of confidence.” - </p> - <p> - “Then don't,” I said; for I would not let my feelings run. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, then, I will!” he cried impetuously, “for the end justifies it. You - must know that after the letter came from Mr. Lloyd, we thought you dead. - I could never get her to speak of you until a fortnight ago. We both had - gone with a party to see Wanstead and dine at the Spread Eagle upon the - Forest, and I stole her away from the company and led her out under the - trees. My God, Richard, how beautiful she was in the wood with the red in - her cheeks and the wind blowing her black hair! For the second time I - begged her to be Lady Comyn. Fool that I was, I thought she wavered, and - my heart beat as it never will again. Then, as she turned away, from her - hand slipped a little gold-bound purse, and as I picked it up a clipping - from a newspaper fluttered out. 'Pon my soul, it was that very scandalous - squib of the Maryland Gazette about our duel! I handed it back with a bow. - I dared not look up at her face, but stood with my eyes on the ground, - waiting. - </p> - <p> - “'Lord Comyn,' says she, presently, with a quiver in her voice, 'before I - give you a reply you must first answer, on your word as a gentleman, what - I ask you.' - </p> - <p> - “I bowed again. - </p> - <p> - “'Is it true that Richard Carvel was in love with Miss Swain?' she asked.” - </p> - <p> - “And you said, Comyn,” I broke in, unable longer to contain myself, “you - said—” - </p> - <p> - “I said: 'Dorothy, if I were to die to-morrow, I would swear Richard - Carvel loved you, and you only.'” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship had spoken with that lightness which hides only the deepest - emotion. - </p> - <p> - “And she refused you?” I cried. “Oh, surely not for that!” - </p> - <p> - “And she did well,” said my Lord. - </p> - <p> - I bowed my head on my arms, for I had gone through a great deal that day, - and this final example of Comyn's generosity overwhelmed me. Then I felt - his hand laid kindly on my shoulder, and I rose up and seized it. His eyes - were dim, as were mine. - </p> - <p> - “And now, will you go to Maryland and be a fool?” asked his Lordship. - </p> - <p> - I hesitated, sadly torn between duty and inclination. John Paul could, - indeed, go to America without me. Next the thought came over me in a flash - that my grandfather might be ill, or even dead, and there would be no one - to receive the captain. I knew he would never consent to spend the season - at the Star and Garter at my expense. And then the image of the man rose - before me, of him who had given me all he owned, and gone with me so - cheerfully to prison, though he knew me not from the veriest adventurer - and impostor. I was undecided no longer. - </p> - <p> - “I must go, Jack,” I said sadly; “as God judges, I must.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at me queerly, as if I were beyond his comprehension, picked up - his hat, called out that he would see me in the morning, and was gone. - </p> - <p> - I went slowly upstairs, threw off my clothes mechanically, and tumbled - into bed. The captain had long been asleep. By the exertion of all the - will power I could command, I was able gradually to think more and more - soberly, and the more I thought, the more absurd, impossible, it seemed - that I, a rough provincial not yet of age, should possess the heart of a - beauty who had but to choose from the best of all England. An hundred - times I went over the scene of poor Comyn's proposal, nay, saw it vividly, - as though the whole of it had been acted before me: and as I became - calmer, the plainer I perceived that Dorothy, thinking me dead, was - willing to let Comyn believe that she had loved me, and had so eased the - soreness of her refusal. Perhaps, in truth, a sentiment had sprung up in - her breast when she heard of my disappearance, which she mistook for love. - But surely the impulse that sent her to Castle Yard was not the same as - that Comyn had depicted: it was merely the survival of the fancy of a - little girl in a grass-stained frock, who had romped on the lawn at Carvel - Hall. I sighed as I remembered the sun and the flowers and the blue - Chesapeake, and recalled the very toss of her head when she had said she - would marry nothing less than a duke. - </p> - <p> - Alas, Dolly, perchance it was to be nothing more than a duke! The bloated - face and beady eyes and the broad crooked back I had seen that day in - Arlington Street rose before me,—I should know his Grace of - Chartersea again were I to meet him in purgatory. Was it, indeed, possible - that I could prevent her marriage with this man? I fell asleep, repeating - the query, as the dawn was sifting through the blinds. - </p> - <p> - I awakened late. Banks was already there to dress me, to congratulate me - as discreetly as a well-trained servant should; nor did he remind me of - the fact that he had offered to lend me money, for which omission I liked - him the better. In the parlour I found the captain sipping his chocolate - and reading his morning Chronicle, as though all his life he had done - nothing else. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, captain.” And fetching him a lick on the back that nearly - upset his bowl, I cried as heartily as I could: - </p> - <p> - “Egad, if our luck holds, we'll be sailing before the week is out.” - </p> - <p> - But he looked troubled. He hemmed and hawed, and finally broke out into - Scotch: - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, laddie, y'ell no be leaving Miss Dorothy for me.” - </p> - <p> - “What nonsense has Comyn put into your head?” I demanded, with a stitch in - my side; I am no more to Miss Manners than—” - </p> - <p> - “Than John Paul! Faith, y'ell not make me believe that. Ah, Richard,” said - he, “ye're a sly dog. You and I have been as thick these twa months as men - can well live, and never a word out of you of the most sublime creature - that walks. I have seen women in many countries, lad, beauties to set - thoughts afire and swords a-play,—and 'tis not her beauty alone. She - hath a spirit for a queen to covet, and air and carriage, too.” - </p> - <p> - This eloquent harangue left me purple. - </p> - <p> - “I grant it all, captain. She has but to choose her title and estate.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and I have a notion which she'll be choosing.” - </p> - <p> - “The knowledge is worth a thousand pounds at the least,” I replied. “I - will lend you the sum, and warrant no lack of takers.” - </p> - <p> - “Now the devil fly off with such temperament! And I had half the - encouragement she has given you, I would cast anchor on the spot, and they - might hang and quarter me to move me. But I know you well,” he exclaimed, - his manner changing, “you are making this great sacrifice on my account. - And I will not be a drag on your pleasures, Richard, or stand in the way - of your prospects.” - </p> - <p> - “Captain Paul,” I said, sitting down beside him, “have I deserved this - from you? Have I shown a desire to desert you now that my fortunes have - changed? I have said that you shall taste of our cheer at Carvel Hall, and - have looked forward this long while to the time when I shall take you to - my grandfather and say: 'Mr. Carvel, this is he whose courage and charity - have restored you to me, and me to you.' And he will have changed mightily - if you do not have the best in Maryland. Should you wish to continue on - the sea, you shall have the Belle of the Wye, launched last year. 'Tis - time Captain Elliott took to his pension.” - </p> - <p> - The captain sighed, and a gleam I did not understand came into his dark - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I would that God had given me your character and your heart, Richard,” he - said, “in place of this striving thing I have within me. But 'tis written - that a leopard cannot change his spots.” - </p> - <p> - “The passage shall be booked this day,” I said. - </p> - <p> - That morning was an eventful one. Comyn arrived first, dressed in a suit - of mauve French cloth that set off his fine figure to great advantage. He - regarded me keenly as he entered, as if to discover whether I had changed - my mind over night. And I saw he was not in the best of tempers. - </p> - <p> - “And when do you sail?” he cried. “I have no doubt you have sent out - already to get passage.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been trying to persuade Mr. Carvel to remain in London, my Lord,” - said the captain. “I tell him he is leaving his best interests behind - him.” - </p> - <p> - “I fear that for once you have undertaken a task beyond your ability, - Captain Paul,” was the rather tart reply. - </p> - <p> - “The captain has a ridiculous idea that he is the cause of my going,” I - said quickly. - </p> - <p> - John Paul rose somewhat abruptly, seized his hat and bowed to his - Lordship, and in the face of a rain sallied out, remarking that he had as - yet seen nothing of the city. - </p> - <p> - “Jack, you must do me the favour not to talk of this in John Paul's - presence,” I said, when the door had closed. - </p> - <p> - “If he doesn't suspect why you are going, he has more stupidity than I - gave him credit for,” Comyn answered gruffly. - </p> - <p> - “I fear he does suspect,” I said. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship went to the table and began to write, leaving me to the - Chronicle, the pages of which I did not see. Then came Mr. Dix, and such a - change I had never beheld in mortal man. In place of the would-be squire I - had encountered in Threadneedle Street, here was an unctuous person of - business in sober gray; but he still wore the hypocritical smirk with no - joy in it. His bow was now all respectful obedience. Comyn acknowledged it - with a curt nod. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dix began smoothly, where a man of more honesty would have found the - going difficult. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel,” he said, rubbing his hands, “I wish first to express my - profound regrets for what has happened.” - </p> - <p> - “Curse your regrets,” said Comyn, bluntly. “You come here on business. Mr. - Carvel does not stand in need of regrets at present.” - </p> - <p> - “I was but on the safe side of Mr. Carvel's money, my Lord.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I'll warrant you are always on the safe side of money,” replied - Comyn, with a laugh. “What I wish to know, Mr. Dix,” he continued, “is - whether you are willing to take my word that this is Mr. Richard Carvel, - the grandson and heir of Lionel Carvel, Esquire, of Carvel Hall in - Maryland?” - </p> - <p> - “I am your Lordship's most obedient servant,” said Mr. Dix. - </p> - <p> - “Confound you, sir! Can you or can you not answer a simple question?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dix straightened. He may have spoken elsewhere of asserting his - dignity. - </p> - <p> - “I would not presume to doubt your Lordship's word.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, if I were to be personally responsible for such sums as Mr. Carvel - may need, I suppose you would be willing to advance them to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Willingly, willingly, my Lord,” said Mr. Dix, and added immediately: - “Your Lordship will not object to putting that in writing? Merely a matter - of form, as your Lordship knows, but we men of affairs are held to a - strict accountability.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn made a movement of disgust, took up a pen and wrote out the - indorsement. - </p> - <p> - “There,” he said. “You men of affairs will at least never die of - starvation.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dix took the paper with a low bow, began to shower me with - protestations of his fidelity to my grandfather's interests, which were - one day to be my own,—he hoped, with me, not soon,—drew from - his pocket more than sufficient for my immediate wants, said that I should - have more by a trusty messenger, and was going on to clear himself of his - former neglect and indifference, when Banks announced: - </p> - <p> - “His honour, Mr. Manners!” - </p> - <p> - Comyn and I exchanged glances, and his Lordship gave a low whistle. Nor - was the circumstance without its effect upon Mr. Dix. With my knowledge of - the character of Dorothy's father I might have foreseen this visit, which - came, nevertheless, as a complete surprise. For a moment I hesitated, and - then made a motion to show him up. Comyn voiced my decision. - </p> - <p> - “Why let the little cur stand in the way?” he said; “he counts for - nothing.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Marmaduke was not long in ascending, and tripped into the room as Mr. - Dix backed out of it, as gayly as tho' he had never sent me about my - business in the street. His clothes, of a cherry cut velvet, were as ever - a little beyond the fashion, and he carried something I had never before - seen, then used by the extreme dandies in London,—an umbrella. - </p> - <p> - “What! Richard Carvel! Is it possible?” he screamed in his piping voice. - “We mourned you for dead, and here you turn up in London alive and well, - and bigger and stronger than ever. Oons! one need not go to Scripture for - miracles. I shall write my congratulations to Mr. Carvel this day, sir.” - And he pushed his fingers into my waistcoat, so that Comyn and I were near - to laughing in his face. For it was impossible to be angry with a little - coxcomb of such pitiful intelligence. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, good morning, my Lord. I see your Lordship has risen early in the - same good cause, I myself am up two hours before my time. You will pardon - the fuss I am making over the lad, Comyn, but his grandfather is my very - dear friend, and Richard was brought up with my daughter Dorothy. They - were like brother and sister. What, Richard, you will not take my hand! - Surely you are not so unreasonable as to hold against me that unfortunate - circumstance in Arlington Street! Yes, Dorothy has shocked me. She has - told me of it.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn winked at me as I replied:— - </p> - <p> - “We shan't mention it, Mr. Manners. I have had my three weeks in prison, - and perhaps know the world all the better for them.” - </p> - <p> - He held up his umbrella in mock dismay, and stumbled abruptly into a - chair. There he sat looking at me, a whimsical uneasiness on his face. “We - shall indeed mention it, sir. Three weeks in prison, to think of it! And - you would not so much as send me a line. Ah, Richard, pride is a good - thing, but I sometimes think we from Maryland have too much of it. We - shall indeed speak of the matter. Out of justice to me you must understand - how it occurred. You must know that I am deucedly absentminded, and - positively lost without my glass. And I had somebody with me, so Dorothy - said. Chartersea, I believe. And his Grace made me think you were a cursed - beggar. I make a point never to have to do with 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right, Mr. Manners,” Comyn cut in dryly; “for I have known them - to be so persistently troublesome, when once encouraged, as to interfere - seriously with our arrangements.” - </p> - <p> - “Eh!” Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I - wondered whether the shot had told. To relieve him I inquired after Mrs. - Manners's health. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, to be sure,” he replied, beginning to fumble in his skirts; “London - agrees with her remarkably, and she is better than she has been for years. - And she is overjoyed at your most wonderful escape, Richard, as are we - all.” - </p> - <p> - And he gave me a note. I concealed my eagerness as I took it and broke the - seal, to discover that it was not from Dorothy, but from Mrs. Manners - herself. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “My dear Richard” (so it ran), “I thank God with your dear - Grandfather over y'r Deliverance, & you must bring y'r Deliverer, - whom Dorothy describes as Courtly and Gentlemanly despite his - Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him - our Gratitude. I know you are far too Sensible not to come to - Arlington Street. I subscribe myself, Richard, y'r sincere Friend, - - “MARGARET MANNERS.” - </pre> - <p> - There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped. But the - letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the affection she - had always had for me. I honoured her the more that she had not attempted - to excuse Mr. Manners's conduct. - </p> - <p> - “You will come, Richard?” cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at - heartiness. “You must come, and the captain, too. For I hear, with regret, - that you are not to be long with us.” - </p> - <p> - I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window - curtains. But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul. Mr. - Manners rose to take his leave. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy will be glad to see you,” he said. “I often think, Richard, that - she tires of these generals and King's ministers, and longs for a romp at - Wilmot House again. Alas,” he sighed, offering us a pinch of snuff (which - he said was the famous Number 37), “alas, she has had a deal too much of - attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen others would to marry - her. I fear she will go soon,” and he sighed again. “Upon my soul I cannot - make her out. I'll lay something handsome, my Lord, that the madcap - adventure with you after Richard sets the gossips going. One day she is - like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for not taking her mother's advice - to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden House; and the next, egad, she is as - difficult to approach as a crowned head. Well, gentlemen, I give you good - day, I have an appointment at White's. I am happy to see you have fallen - in good hands, Richard. My Lord, your most obedient!” - </p> - <p> - “He'll lay something handsome!” said my Lord, when the door had closed - behind him. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII. ARLINGTON STREET - </h2> - <p> - The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,—being - ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,—I left him a message - and betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy's house. - The door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered - me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told me - the ladies were not at home. But I had not gone a dozen paces in my - disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour were - Mr. Richard Carvel. - </p> - <p> - “The ladies will see your honour,” he said, and conducted me back into the - house and up the wide stairs. I had heard that Arlington Street was known - as the street of the King's ministers, and I surmised that Mr. Manners had - rented this house, and its furniture, from some great man who had gone out - of office, plainly a person of means and taste. The hall, like that of - many of the great town-houses, was in semi-darkness, but I remarked that - the stair railing was of costly iron-work and polished brass; and, as I - went up, that the stone niches in the wall were filled with the busts of - statesmen, and I recognized among these, that of the great Walpole. A - great copper gilt chandelier hung above. But the picture of the - drawing-room I was led into, with all its colours, remains in the eye of - my mind to this day. It was a large room, the like of which I had never - seen in any private residence of the New World, situated in the back of - the house. Its balcony overlooked the fresh expanse of the Green Park. - Upon its high ceiling floated Venus and the graces, by Zucchi; and the - mantel, upon which ticked an antique and curious French clock, was carved - marble. - </p> - <p> - On the gilt panels of the walls were wreaths of red roses. At least a - half-dozen tall mirrors, framed in rococos, were placed about, the largest - taking the space between the two high windows on the park side. And - underneath it stood a gold cabinet, lacquered by Martin's inimitable hand, - in the centre of which was set a medallion of porcelain, with the head in - dark blue of his Majesty, Charles the First. The chairs and lounges were - marquetry,—satin-wood and mahogany,—with seats and backs of - blue brocade. The floor was polished to the degree of danger, and on the - walls hung a portrait by Van Dycke, another, of a young girl, by - Richardson, a landscape by the Dutch artist Ruysdael, and a water-colour - by Zaccarelli. - </p> - <p> - I had lived for four months the roughest of lives, and the room brought - before me so sharply the contrast between my estate and the grandeur and - elegance in which Dorothy lived, that my spirits fell as I looked about - me. In front of me was a vase of flowers, and beside them on the table lay - a note “To Miss Manners, in Arlington Street,” and sealed with a ducal - crest. I was unconsciously turning it over, when something impelled me to - look around. There, erect in the doorway, stood Dolly, her eyes so - earnestly fixed upon me that I dropped the letter with a start. A faint - colour mounted to her crown of black hair. - </p> - <p> - “And so you have come, Richard,” she said. Her voice was low, and tho' - there was no anger in it, the tone seemed that of reproach. I wondered - whether she thought the less of me for coming. - </p> - <p> - “Can you blame me for wishing to see you before I leave, Dolly?” I cried, - and crossed quickly over to her. - </p> - <p> - But she drew a step backward. - </p> - <p> - “Then it is true that you are going,” said she, this time with a plain - note of coldness. - </p> - <p> - “I must, Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - “When?” - </p> - <p> - “As soon as I can get passage.” - </p> - <p> - She passed me and seated herself on the lounge, leaving me to stand like a - lout before her, ashamed of my youth and of the clumsiness of my great - body. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Richard,” she laughed, “confess to your old play mate! I should like - to know how many young men of wealth and family would give up the - pleasures of a London season were there not a strong attraction in - Maryland.” - </p> - <p> - How I longed to tell her that I would give ten years of my life to remain - in England: that duty to John Paul took me home. But I was dumb. - </p> - <p> - “We should make a macaroni of you to amaze our colony,” said Dolly, - lightly, as I sat down a great distance away; “to accept my schooling were - to double your chances when you return, Richard. You should have cards to - everything, and my Lord Comyn or Mr. Fox or some one would introduce you - at the clubs. I vow you would be a sensation, with your height and figure. - You should meet all the beauties of England, and perchance,” she added - mischievously, “perchance you might be taking one home with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Dolly,” I answered; “I am not your match in jesting.” - </p> - <p> - “Jesting!” she exclaimed, “I was never more sober. But where is your - captain?” - </p> - <p> - I said that I hoped that John Paul would be there shortly. - </p> - <p> - “How fanciful he is! And his conversation,—one might think he had - acquired the art at Marly or in the Fauxbourg. In truth, he should have - been born on the far side of the Channel. And he has the air of the great - man,” said she, glancing up at ms, covertly. “For my part, I prefer a - little more bluntness.” - </p> - <p> - I was nettled at the speech. Dorothy had ever been quick to seize upon and - ridicule the vulnerable oddities of a character, and she had all the - contempt of the great lady for those who tried to scale by pleasing arts. - I perceived with regret that she had taken a prejudice. - </p> - <p> - “There, Dorothy,” I cried, “not even you shall talk so of the captain. For - you have seen him at his worst. There are not many, I warrant you, born - like him a poor gardener's son who rise by character and ability to be a - captain at three and twenty. And he will be higher yet. He has never - attended any but a parish school, and still has learning to astonish Mr. - Walpole, learning which he got under vast difficulties. He is a gentleman, - I say, far above many I have known, and he is a man. If you would know a - master, you should see him on his own ship. If you would know a gentleman, - you have been with me in his mother's cottage.” And, warming as I talked, - I told her of that saddest of all homecomings to the little cabin under - Criffel's height. - </p> - <p> - Small wonder that I adored Dorothy! - </p> - <p> - Would that I could paint her moods, that I might describe the strange - light in her eyes when I had finished, that I might tell how in an instant - she was another woman. She rose impulsively and took a chair at my side, - and said:— - </p> - <p> - “'Tis so I love to hear you speak, Richard, when you uphold the absent. - For I feel it is so you must champion me when I am far away. My dear old - playmate is ever the same, strong to resent, and seeing ever the best in - his friends. Forgive me, Richard, I have been worse than silly. And will - you tell me that story of your adventures which I long to learn?” - </p> - <p> - Ay, that I would. I told it her, and she listened silently, save only now - and then a cry of wonder or of sympathy that sounded sweet to my ears,—just - as I had dreamed of her listening when I used to pace the deck of the - brigantine John, at sea. And when at length I had finished, she sat - looking out over the Green Park, as tho' she had forgot my presence. - </p> - <p> - And so Mrs. Manners came in and found us. - </p> - <p> - It had ever pleased me to imagine that Dorothy's mother had been in her - youth like Dorothy. She had the same tall figure, grace in its every - motion, and the same eyes of deep blue, and the generous but well-formed - mouth. A man may pity, but cannot conceive the heroism that a woman of - such a mould must have gone through who has been married since early - girlhood to a man like Mr. Manners. Some women would have been driven - quickly to frivolity, and worse, but this one had struggled year after - year to maintain an outward serenity to a critical world, and had - succeeded, tho' success had cost her dear. Each trial had deepened a line - of that face, had done its share to subdue the voice which had once rung - like Dorothy's; and in the depths of her eyes lingered a sadness - indefinable. - </p> - <p> - She gazed upon me with that kindness and tenderness I had always received - since the days when, younger and more beautiful than now, she was the - companion of my mother. And the unbidden shadow of a thought came to me - that these two sweet women had had some sadness in common. Many a summer's - day I remembered them sewing together in the spring-house, talking in - subdued voices which were hushed when I came running in. And lo! the same - memory was on Dorothy's mother then, half expressed as she laid her hands - upon my shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Poor Elizabeth!” she said,—not to me, nor yet to Dorothy; “I wish - that she might have lived to see you now. It is Captain Jack again.” - </p> - <p> - She sighed, and kissed me. And I felt at last that I had come home after - many wanderings. We sat down, mother and daughter on the sofa with their - fingers locked. She did not speak of Mr. Manners's conduct, or of my stay - in the sponging-house. And for this I was thankful. - </p> - <p> - “I have had a letter from Mr. Lloyd, Richard,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “And my grandfather?” I faltered, a thickness in my throat. - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy,” answered Mrs. Manners, gently, “he thinks you dead. But you - have written him?” she added hurriedly. - </p> - <p> - I nodded. “From Dumfries.” - </p> - <p> - “He will have the letter soon,” she said cheerfully. “I thank Heaven I am - able to tell you that his health is remarkable under the circumstances. - But he will not quit the house, and sees no one except your uncle, who is - with him constantly.” - </p> - <p> - It was what I expected. But the confirmation of it brought me to my feet - in a torrent of indignation, exclaiming: - </p> - <p> - “The villain! You tell me he will allow Mr. Carvel to see no one?” - </p> - <p> - She started forward, laying her hand on my arm, and Dorothy gave a little - cry. - </p> - <p> - “What are you saying, Richard? What are you saying?” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Manners,” I answered, collecting myself, “I must tell you that I - believe it is Grafton Carvel himself that is responsible for my abduction. - He meant that I should be murdered.” - </p> - <p> - Then Dorothy rose, her eyes flashing and her head high. - </p> - <p> - “He would have murdered you—you, Richard?” she cried, in such a - storm of anger as I had never seen her. “Oh, he should hang for the - thought of it! I have always suspected Grafton Carvel capable of any - crime!” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, Dorothy,” said her mother; “it is not seemly for a young girl to - talk so.” - </p> - <p> - “Seemly!” said Dorothy. “If I were a man I would bring him to justice, and - it took me a lifetime. Nay, if I were a man and could use a sword—” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy! Dorothy!” interrupted Mrs. Manners. - </p> - <p> - Dorothy sat down, the light lingering in her eyes. She had revealed more - of herself in that instant than in all her life before. - </p> - <p> - “It is a grave charge, Richard,” said Mrs. Manners, at length. “And your - uncle is a man of the best standing in Annapolis.” - </p> - <p> - “You must remember his behaviour before my mother's marriage, Mrs. - Manners.” - </p> - <p> - “I do, I do, Richard,” she said sadly. “And I have never trusted him - since. I suppose you are not making your accusation without cause?” - </p> - <p> - “I have cause enough,” I answered bitterly. - </p> - <p> - “And proof?” she added. She should have been the man in her family. - </p> - <p> - I told her how Harvey had overheard the bits of the plot at Carvel Hall - near two years gone; and now that I had begun, I was going through with - Mr. Allen's part in the conspiracy, when Dorothy startled us both by - crying: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, there is so much wickedness in the world, I wish I had never been - born!” - </p> - <p> - She flung herself from the room in a passion of tears to shock me. As if - in answer to my troubled look, Mrs. Manners said, with a sigh: - </p> - <p> - “She has not been at all well, lately, Richard. I fear the gayety of this - place is too much for her. Indeed, I am sorry we ever left Maryland.” - </p> - <p> - I was greatly disturbed, and thought involuntarily of Comyn's words. Could - it be that Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry Chartersea? - </p> - <p> - “And has Mr. Lloyd said nothing of my uncle?” I asked after a while. - </p> - <p> - “I will not deny that ugly rumours are afloat,” she answered. “Grafton, as - you know, is not liked in Annapolis, especially by the Patriot party. But - there is not the slightest ground for suspicion. The messenger—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” - </p> - <p> - “Your uncle denies all knowledge of. He was taken to be the tool of the - captain of the slaver, and he disappeared so completely that it was - supposed he had escaped to the ship. The story goes that you were seized - for a ransom, and killed in the struggle. Your black ran all the way to - town, crying the news to those he met on the Circle and in West Street, - but by the mercy of God he was stopped by Mr. Swain and some others before - he had reached your grandfather. In ten minutes a score of men were - galloping out of the Town Gate, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Singleton ahead. They - found your horse dead, and the road through the woods all trampled down, - and they spurred after the tracks down to the water's edge. Singleton - recalled a slaver, the crew of which had been brawling at the Ship tavern - a few nights before. But the storm was so thick they could not see the - ship's length out into the river. They started two fast sloops from the - town wharves in chase, and your uncle has been moving heaven and earth to - obtain some clew of you. He has put notices in the newspapers of - Charlestown, Philadelphia, New York, and even Boston, and offered a - thousand pounds reward.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX. I MEET A VERY GREAT YOUNG MAN - </h2> - <p> - The French clock had struck four, and I was beginning to fear that, - despite my note, the captain's pride forbade his coming to Mr. Manners's - house, when in he walked, as tho' 'twere no novelty to have his name - announced. And so straight and handsome was he, his dark eye flashing with - the self-confidence born in the man, that the look of uneasiness I had - detected upon Mrs. Manners's face quickly changed to one of surprise and - pleasure. Of course the good lady had anticipated a sea-captain of a far - different mould. He kissed her hand with a respectful grace, and then her - daughter's, for Dorothy had come back to us, calmer. And I was filled with - joy over his fine appearance. Even Dorothy was struck by the change the - clothes had made in him. Mrs. Manners thanked him very tactfully for - restoring me to them, as she was pleased to put it, to which John Paul - modestly replied that he had done no more than another would under the - same circumstances. And he soon had them both charmed by his address. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard,” said Dorothy's mother aside to me, “surely this cannot be - your sea-captain!” - </p> - <p> - I nodded merrily. But John Paul's greatest triumph was yet to come. For - presently Mr. Marmaduke arrived from White's, and when he had greeted me - with effusion he levelled his glass at the corner of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ahem!” he exclaimed. “Pray, my dear, whom have you invited to-day?” And - without awaiting her reply, as was frequently his habit, he turned to me - and said: “I had hoped we were to have the pleasure of Captain Paul's - company, Richard. For I must have the chance before you go of clasping the - hand of your benefactor.” - </p> - <p> - “You shall have the chance, at least, sir,” I replied, a fiery exultation - in my breast. “Mr. Manners, this is my friend, Captain Paul.” - </p> - <p> - The captain stood up and bowed gravely at the little gentleman's blankly - amazed countenance. - </p> - <p> - “Ahem,” said he; “dear me, is it possible!” and advanced a step, but the - captain remained immovable. Mr. Marmaduke fumbled for his snuff-box, - failed to find it, halted, and began again, for he never was known to lack - words for long: “Captain, as one of the oldest friends of Mr. Lionel - Carvel, I claim the right to thank you in his name for your gallant - conduct. I hear that you are soon to see him, and to receive his - obligations from him in person. You will not find him lacking, sir, I'll - warrant.” - </p> - <p> - Such was Mr. Marmaduke's feline ingenuity! I had a retort ready, and I saw - that Mrs. Manners, long tried in such occasions, was about to pour oil on - the waters. But it was Dorothy who exclaimed: - </p> - <p> - “What captain! are you, too, going to Maryland?” - </p> - <p> - John Paul reddened. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that he is, Dolly,” I cut in hurriedly. “Did you imagine I would let - him escape so easily? Henceforth as he has said, he is to be an American.” - </p> - <p> - She flashed at me such a look as might have had a dozen different - meanings, and in a trice it was gone again under her dark lashes. - </p> - <p> - Dinner was got through I know not how. Mr. Manners led the talk, and spoke - more than was needful concerning our approaching voyage. He was at great - pains to recommend the Virginia packet, which had made the fastest passage - from the Capes; and she sailed, as was no doubt most convenient, the - Saturday following. I should find her a comfortable vessel, and he would - oblige me with a letter to Captain Alsop. Did Captain Paul know him? But - the captain was describing West Indian life to Mrs. Manners. Dorothy had - little to say; and as for me, I was in no very pleasant humour. - </p> - <p> - I gave a deaf ear to Mr. Marmaduke's sallies, to speculate on the nature - of the disgrace which Chartersea was said to hold over his head. And - twenty times, as I looked upon Dolly's beauty, I ground my teeth at the - notion of returning home. I have ever been slow of suspicion, but suddenly - it struck me sharply that Mr. Manners's tactics must have a deeper - significance than I had thought. Why was it that he feared my presence in - London? - </p> - <p> - As we made our way back to the drawing-room, I was hoping for a talk with - Dolly (alas! I should not have many more), when I heard a voice which - sounded strangely familiar. - </p> - <p> - “You know, Comyn,” it was saying, “you know I should be at the Princess's - were I not so completely worn out. I was up near all of last night with - Rosette.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Marmaduke, entering before us, cried:— - </p> - <p> - “The dear creature! I trust you have had medical attendance, Mr. Walpole.” - </p> - <p> - “Egad!” quoth Horry (for it was he), “I sent Favre to Hampstead to fetch - Dr. Pratt, where he was attending some mercer's wife. It seems that - Rosette had got into the street and eaten something horrible out of the - kennel. I discharged the footman, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “A plague on your dog, Horry,” said my Lord, yawning, and was about to add - something worse, when he caught sight of Dorothy. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Walpole bowed over her hand. - </p> - <p> - “And have you forgotten so soon your Windsor acquaintances, Mr. Walpole?” - she asked, laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Bless me,” said Horry, looking very hard at me, “so it is, so it is. Your - hand, Mr. Carvel. You have only to remain in London, sir, to discover that - your reputation is ready-made. I contributed my mite. For you must know - that I am a sort of circulating library of odd news which those devils, - the printers, contrive to get sooner or later—Heaven knows how! And - Miss Manners herself has completed your fame. Yes, the story of your - gallant rescue is in all the clubs to-day. Egad, sir, you come down heads - up, like a loaded coin. You will soon be a factor in Change Alley.” And - glancing slyly at the blushing Dolly, he continued: - </p> - <p> - “I have been many things, Miss Manners, but never before an instrument of - Providence. And so you discovered your rough diamond yesterday, and have - polished him in a day. O that Dr. Franklin had profited as well by our - London tailors! The rogue never told me, when he was ordering me about in - his swan-skin, that he had a friend in Arlington Street, and a reigning - beauty. But I like him the better for it.” - </p> - <p> - “And I the worse,” said Dolly. - </p> - <p> - “I perceive that he still retains his body-guard,” said Mr. Walpole; - “Captain—” - </p> - <p> - “Paul,” said Dolly, seeing that we would not help him out. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes. These young princes from the New World must have their suites. - You must bring them both some day to my little castle at Strawberry Hill.” - </p> - <p> - “Unfortunately, Mr. Walpole, Mr. Carvel finds that he must return to - America,” Mr. Marmaduke interjected. He had been waiting to get in this - word. - </p> - <p> - Comyn nudged me. And I took the opportunity, in the awkward silence that - followed, to thank Mr. Walpole for sending his coach after us. - </p> - <p> - “And pray where did you get your learning?” he demanded abruptly of the - captain, in his most patronizing way. “Your talents are wasted at sea, - sir. You should try your fortune in London, where you shall be under my - protection, sir. They shall not accuse me again of stifling young genius. - Stay,” he cried, warming with generous enthusiasm, “stay, I have an - opening. 'Twas but yesterday Lady Cretherton told me that she stood in - need of a tutor for her youngest son, and you shall have the position.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, sir, but I shall not have the position,” said John Paul, - coolly. And Horry might have heeded the danger signal. I had seen it more - than once on board the brigantine John, and knew what was coming. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, and why not, sir? If I recommend you, why not, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I shall not take it,” he said. “I have my profession, Mr. - Walpole, and it is an honourable one. And I would not exchange it, sir, - were it in your power to make me a Gibbon or a Hume, or tutor to his Royal - Highness, which it is not.” - </p> - <p> - Thus, for the second time, the weapon of the renowned master of Strawberry - was knocked from his hand at a single stroke of his strange adversary. I - should like to describe John Paul as he made that speech,—for 'twas - not so much the speech as the atmosphere of it. Those who heard and saw - were stirred with wonder, for Destiny lay bare that instant, just as the - powers above are sometimes revealed at a single lightning-bolt. Mr. - Walpole made a reply that strove hard to be indifferent; Mr. Marmaduke - stuttered, for he was frightened, as little souls are apt to be at such - times. But my Lord Comyn, forever natural, forever generous, cried out - heartily:— - </p> - <p> - “Egad, captain, there you are a true sailor! Which would you rather have - been, I say, William Shakespeare or Sir Francis?” - </p> - <p> - “Which would you rather be, Richard,” said Dolly to me, under her breath, - “Horace Walpole or Captain John Paul? I begin to like your captain - better.” - </p> - <p> - Willy nilly, Mr. Walpole was forever doing me a service. Now, in order to - ignore the captain more completely, he sat him down to engage Mr. and Mrs. - Manners. Comyn was soon hot in an argument with John Paul concerning the - seagoing qualities of a certain frigate, every rope and spar of which they - seemed to know. And so I stole a few moments with Dorothy. - </p> - <p> - “You are going to take the captain to Maryland, Richard?” she asked, - playing with her fan. - </p> - <p> - “I intend to get him the Belle of the Tye. 'Tis the least I can do. For I - am at my wits' end how to reward him, Dolly. And when are you coming - back?” I whispered earnestly, seeing her silent. - </p> - <p> - “I would that I knew, Richard,” she replied, with a certain sadness that - went to my heart, as tho' the choice lay beyond her. Then she changed. - “Richard, there was more in Mr. Lloyd's letter than mamma told you of. - There was ill news of one of your friends.” - </p> - <p> - “News!” - </p> - <p> - She looked at me fixedly, and then continued, her voice so low that I was - forced to bend over: - </p> - <p> - “Yes. You were not told that Patty Swain fell in a faint when she heard of - your disappearance. You were not told that the girl was ill for a week - afterwards. Ah, Richard, I fear you are a sad flirt. Nay, you may benefit - by the doubt,—perchance you are going home to be married.” - </p> - <p> - You may be sure that this intelligence, from Dorothy's lips, only - increased my trouble and perplexity. - </p> - <p> - “You say that Patty has been ill?” - </p> - <p> - “Very ill,” says she, with her lips tight closed. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I grieve to hear of it,” I replied; “but I cannot think that my - accident had anything to do with the matter.” - </p> - <p> - “Young ladies do not send their fathers to coffee-houses to prevent duels - unless their feelings are engaged,” she flung back. - </p> - <p> - “You have heard the story of that affair, Dorothy. At least enough of it - to do me justice.” - </p> - <p> - She was plainly agitated. - </p> - <p> - “Has Lord Comyn—” - </p> - <p> - “Lord Comyn has told you the truth,” I said; “so much I know.” - </p> - <p> - Alas for the exits and entrances of life! Here comes the footman. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Fox,” said he, rolling the name, for it was a great one. - </p> - <p> - Confound Mr. Fox! He might have waited five short minutes. - </p> - <p> - It was, in truth, none other than that precocious marvel of England who - but a year before had taken the breath from the House of Commons, and had - sent his fame flying over the Channel and across the wide Atlantic; the - talk of London, who set the fashions, cringed not before white hairs, or - royalty, or customs, or institutions, and was now, at one and twenty, - Junior Lord of the Admiralty—Charles James Fox. His face was dark, - forbidding, even harsh—until he smiled. His eyebrows were heavy and - shaggy, and his features of a rounded, almost Jewish mould. He put me in - mind of the Stuarts, and I was soon to learn that he was descended from - them. - </p> - <p> - As he entered the room I recall remarking that he was possessed of the - supremest confidence of any man I had ever met. Mrs. Manners he greeted in - one way, Mr. Marmaduke in another, and Mr. Walpole in still another. To - Comyn it was “Hello, Jack,” as he walked by him. Each, as it were, had - been tagged with a particular value. - </p> - <p> - Chagrined as I was at the interruption, I was struck with admiration. For - the smallest actions of these rare men of master passions so compel us. He - came to Dorothy, whom he seemed not to have perceived at first, and there - passed between them such a look of complete understanding that I suddenly - remembered Comyn's speech of the night before, “Now it is Charles Fox.” - Here, indeed, was the man who might have won her. And yet I did not hate - him. Nay, I loved him from the first time he addressed me. It was Dorothy - who introduced us. - </p> - <p> - “I think I have heard of you, Mr. Carvel,” he said, making a barely - perceptible wink at Comyn. - </p> - <p> - “And I think I have heard of you, Mr. Fox,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “The deuce you have, Mr. Carvel!” said he, and laughed. And Comyn laughed, - and Dorothy laughed, and I laughed. We were friends from that moment. - </p> - <p> - “Richard has appeared amongst us like a comet,” put in the ubiquitous Mr. - Manners, “and, I fear, intends to disappear in like manner.” - </p> - <p> - “And where is the tail of this comet?” demanded Fox, instantly; “for I - understood there was a tail.” - </p> - <p> - John Paul was brought up, and the Junior Lord of the Admiralty looked him - over from head to toe. And what, my dears, do you think he said to him? - </p> - <p> - “Have you ever acted, Captain Paul?” - </p> - <p> - The captain started back in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Acted!” he exclaimed; “really, sir, I do not know. I have never been upon - the boards.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fox vowed that he could act: that he was sure of it, from the - captain's appearance. - </p> - <p> - “And I, too, am sure of it, Mr. Fox,” cried Dorothy; clapping her hands. - “Persuade him to stay awhile in London, that you may have him at your next - theatricals at Holland House. Why, he knows Shakespeare and Pope and—and - Chaucer by heart, and Ovid and Horace,—is it not so, Mr. Walpole?” - </p> - <p> - “Is not what so, my dear young lady?” asked Mr. Walpole, pretending not to - have heard. - </p> - <p> - “There!” exclaimed Dolly, pouting, when the laughter had subsided; “you - make believe to care something about me, and yet will not listen to what I - say.” - </p> - <p> - I had seen at her feet our own Maryland gallants, the longest of whose - reputations stretched barely from the James to the Schuylkill; but here in - London men were hanging on her words whose names were familiarly spoken in - Paris, and Rome, and Geneva. Not a topic was broached by Mr. Walpole or - Mr. Fox, from the remonstrance of the Archbishop against masquerades and - the coming marriage of my Lord Albemarle to the rights and wrongs of Mr. - Wilkes, but my lady had her say. Mrs. Manners seemed more than content - that she should play the hostess, which she did to perfection. She - contrived to throw poisoned darts at the owner of Strawberry that started - little Mr. Marmaduke to fidgeting in his seat, and he came to the rescue - with all the town-talk at his command. He knew little else. Could Mr. - Walpole tell him of this club of both sexes just started at Almack's? Mr. - Walpole could tell a deal, tho' he took the pains first to explain that he - was becoming too old for such frivolous and fashionable society. He could - not, for the life of him, say why he was included. But, in spite of Mr. - Walpole, John Paul was led out in the paces that best suited him, and - finally, to the undisguised delight of Mr. Fox, managed to trip Horry upon - an obscure point in Athenian literature. And this broke up the company. - </p> - <p> - As we took our leave Dorothy and Mr. Fox were talking together with - lowered voices. - </p> - <p> - “I shall see you before I go,” I said to her. - </p> - <p> - She laughed, and glanced at Mr. Fox. - </p> - <p> - “You are not going, Richard Carvel,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “That you are not, Richard Carvel,” said Mr. Fox. - </p> - <p> - I smiled, rather lamely, I fear, and said good night. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX. A CONSPIRACY - </h2> - <p> - “Banks, where is the captain?” I asked, as I entered the parlour the next - morning. - </p> - <p> - “Gone, sir, since seven o'clock,” was the reply. “Gone!” I exclaimed; - “gone where?” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, I did not ask his honour, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I thought it strange, but reflected that John Paul was given to whims. - Having so little time before him, he had probably gone to see the sights - he had missed yesterday: the Pantheon, which was building, an account of - which had appeared in all the colonial papers; or the new Blackfriars - Bridge; or the Tower; or perhaps to see his Majesty ride out. The wonders - of London might go hang, for all I cared. Who would gaze at the King when - he might look upon Dorothy! I sighed. I bade Banks dress me in the new - suit Davenport had brought that morning, and then sent him off to seek the - shipping agent of the Virginia packet to get us a cabin. I would go to - Arlington Street as soon as propriety admitted. - </p> - <p> - But I had scarce finished my chocolate and begun to smoke in a pleasant - revery, when I was startled by the arrival of two gentlemen. One was - Comyn, and the other none less than Mr. Charles Fox. - </p> - <p> - “Now where the devil has your captain flown to?” said my Lord, tossing his - whip on the table. - </p> - <p> - “I believe he must be sight-seeing,” I said. “I dare swear he has taken a - hackney coach to the Tower.” - </p> - <p> - “To see the liberation of the idol of the people, I'll lay ten guineas. - But they say the great Mr. Wilkes is to come out quietly, and wishes no - demonstration,” said Mr. Fox. “I believe the beggar has some sense, if the—Greek—would - only let him have his way. So your captain is a Wilkite, Mr. Carvel?” he - demanded. - </p> - <p> - “I fear you run very fast to conclusions, Mr. Fox,” I answered, laughing, - tho' I thought his guess was not far from wrong. - </p> - <p> - “I'll lay you the ten guineas he has been to the Tower,” said Mr. Fox, - promptly. - </p> - <p> - “Done, sir,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Hark ye, Richard,” said Comyn, stretching himself in an arm-chair; “we - are come to take the wind out of your sails, and leave you without an - excuse for going home. And we want your captain, alive or dead. Charles, - here, is to give him a commission in his Majesty's Navy.” - </p> - <p> - Then I knew why Dorothy had laughed when I had spoken of seeing her again. - Comyn—bless him!—had told her of his little scheme. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, Charles!” cried his Lordship, “to look at his glum face, one might - think we were a couple of Jews who had cornered him.” - </p> - <p> - Alas for the perversity of the heart! Instead of leaping for joy, as no - doubt they had both confidently expected, I was both troubled and - perplexed by this unlooked-for news. Oak, when bent, is even harder to - bend back again. And so it has ever been with me. I had determined, after - a bitter struggle, to go to Maryland, and had now become used to that - prospect. I was anxious to see my grandfather, and to confront Grafton - Carvel with his villany. And there was John Paul. What would he think? - </p> - <p> - “What ails you, Richard?” Comyn demanded somewhat testily. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, Jack,” I replied. “I thank you from my heart, and you, Mr. Fox. - I know that commissions are not to be had for the asking, and I rejoice - with the captain over his good fortune. But, gentlemen,” I said soberly, - “I had most selfishly hoped that I might be able to do a service to John - Paul in return for his charity to me. You offer him something nearer his - deserts, something beyond my power to give him.” - </p> - <p> - Fox's eyes kindled. - </p> - <p> - “You speak like a man, Mr. Carvel,” said he. “But you are too modest. Damn - it, sir, don't you see that it is you, and no one else, who has procured - this commission? Had I not been taken with you, sir, I should scarce have - promised it to your friend Comyn, through whose interest you obtain it for - your protege.” - </p> - <p> - I remembered what Mr. Fox's enemies said of him, and smiled at the - plausible twist he had given the facts. - </p> - <p> - “No,” I said; “no, Mr. Fox; never that. The captain must not think that I - wish to be rid of him. I will not stand in the way, though if it is to be - offered him, he must comprehend that I had naught to do with the matter. - But, sir,” I continued curiously, “what do you know of John Paul's - abilities as an officer?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fox and Comyn laughed so immoderately as to bring the blood to my - face. - </p> - <p> - “Damme!” cried the Junior Lord, “but you Americans have odd consciences! - Do you suppose Rigby was appointed Paymaster of the Forces because of his - fitness? Why was North himself made Prime Minister? For his abilities?” - And he broke down again. “Ask Jack, here, how he got into the service, and - how much seamanship he knows.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith,” answered Jack, unblushingly, “Admiral Lord Comyn, my father, - wished me to serve awhile. And so I have taken two cruises, delivered some - score of commands, and scarce know a supple jack from a can of flip. - Cursed if I see the fun of it in these piping times o' peace, so I have - given it up, Richard. For Charles says this Falkland business with Spain - will blow out of the touch-hole.” - </p> - <p> - I could see little to laugh over. For the very rottenness of the service - was due to the miserable and servile Ministry and Parliament of his - Majesty, by means of which instruments he was forcing the colonies to the - wall. Verily, that was a time when the greatness of England hung in the - balance! How little I suspected that the young man then seated beside me, - who had cast so unthinkingly his mighty powers on the side of corruption, - was to be one of the chief instruments of her salvation! We were to fight - George the Third across the seas. He was to wage no less courageous a - battle at home, in the King's own capital. And the cause? Yes, the cause - was to be the same as that of the Mr. Wilkes he reviled, who obtained his - liberty that day. - </p> - <p> - At length John Paul came in, calling my name. He broke off abruptly at - sight of the visitors. - </p> - <p> - “Now we shall decide,” said Mr. Fox. “Captain, I have bet Mr. Carvel ten - guineas you have been to the Tower to see Squinting Jack (John Wilkes) get - his liberty at last.” - </p> - <p> - The captain looked astonished. - </p> - <p> - “Anan, then, you have lost, Richard,” said he. “For I have been just - there.” - </p> - <p> - “And helped, no doubt, to carry off the champion on your shoulders,” said - Mr. Fox, sarcastically, as I paid the debt. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wilkes knows full well the value of moderation, sir,” replied the - captain, in the same tone. - </p> - <p> - “Well, damn the odds!” exclaimed the Junior Lord, laughing. “You may have - the magic number tattooed all over your back, for all I care. You shall - have the commission.” - </p> - <p> - “The commission?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Fox, carelessly; “I intend making you a lieutenant, sir, in - the Royal Navy.” - </p> - <p> - The moment the words were out I was a-tremble as to how he would take the - offer. For he had a certain puzzling pride, which flew hither and thither. - But there was surely no comparison between the situations of the master of - the Belle of the Wye and an officer in the Royal Navy. There, his talents - would make him an admiral, and doubtless give him the social position he - secretly coveted. He confounded us all by his answer. - </p> - <p> - “I thank you, Mr. Fox. But I cannot accept your kindness.” - </p> - <p> - “Slife!” said Fox, “you refuse? And you know what you are doing?” - </p> - <p> - “I know usually, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn swore. My exclamation had something of relief in it. - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” I said, “I felt that I could not stand in the way of this. It - has been my hope that you will come with me, and I have sent this morning - after a cabin on the Virginia. You must know that Mr. Fox's offer is his - own, and Lord Comyn's.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it well, Richard. I have not lived these three months with you for - nothing.” His voice seemed to fail him. He drew near me and took my hand. - “But did you think I would require of you the sacrifice of leaving London - now?” - </p> - <p> - “It is my pleasure as well as my duty, captain.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said, “I am not like that. Yesterday I went to the city to see a - shipowner whose acquaintance I made when he was a master in the West India - trade. He has had some reason to know that I can handle a ship. Never mind - what. And he has given me the bark 'Betsy', whose former master is lately - dead of the small-pox. Richard, I sail to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - In Dorothy's coach to Whitehall Stairs, by the grim old palace out of - whose window Charles the Martyr had walked to his death. For Dorothy had - vowed it was her pleasure to see John Paul off, and who could stand in her - way? Surely not Mr. Marmaduke! and Mrs. Manners laughingly acquiesced. Our - spirits were such that we might have been some honest mercer's apprentice - and his sweetheart away for an outing. - </p> - <p> - “If we should take a wherry, Richard,” said Dolly, “who would know of it? - I have longed to be in a wherry ever since I came to London.” - </p> - <p> - The river was smiling as she tripped gayly down to the water, and the - red-coated watermen were smiling, too, and nudging one another. But little - cared we! Dolly in holiday humour stopped for naught. “Boat, your honour! - Boat, boat! To Rotherhithe—Redriff? Two and six apiece, sir.” For - that intricate puzzle called human nature was solved out of hand by the - Thames watermen. Here was a young gentleman who never heard of the Lord - Mayor's scale of charges. And what was a shilling to such as he! Intricate - puzzle, indeed! Any booby might have read upon the young man's face that - secret which is written for all,—high and low, rich and poor alike. - </p> - <p> - My new lace handkerchief was down upon the seat, lest Dolly soil her - bright pink lutestring. She should have worn nothing else but the hue of - roses. How the bargemen stared, and the passengers craned their necks, and - the longshoremen stopped their work as we shot past them! On her account a - barrister on the Temple Stairs was near to letting fall his bag in the - water. A lady in a wherry! Where were the whims of the quality to lead - them next? Past the tall water-tower and York Stairs, the idlers under the - straight row of trees leaning over the high river wall; past Adelphi - Terrace, where the great Garrick lived; past the white columns of Somerset - House, with its courts and fountains and alleys and architecture of all - ages, and its river gate where many a gilded royal barge had lain, and - many a fine ambassador had arrived in state over the great highway of - England; past the ancient trees in the Temple Gardens. And then under the - new Blackfriars Bridge to Southwark, dingy with its docks and breweries - and huddled houses, but forever famous,—the Southwark of Shakespeare - and Jonson and Beaumont and Fletcher. And the shelf upon which they stood - in the library at Carvel Hall was before my eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Dolly; “and I recall your mother's name written in faded ink - upon the fly-leaves.” - </p> - <p> - Ah, London Town, by what subtleties are you tied to the hearts of those - born across the sea? That is one of the mysteries of race. - </p> - <p> - Under the pointed arches of old London Bridge, with its hooded shelters - for the weary, to where the massive Tower had frowned for ages upon the - foolish river. And then the forest of ships, and the officious throng of - little wherries and lighters that pressed around them, seeming to say, - “You clumsy giants, how helpless would you be without us!” Soon our own - wherry was dodging among them, ships brought hither by the four winds of - the seas; many discharging in the stream, some in the docks then beginning - to be built, and hugging the huge warehouses. Hides from frozen Russia - were piled high beside barrels of sugar and rum from the moist island - cane-fields of the Indies, and pipes of wine from the sunny hillsides of - France, and big boxes of tea bearing the hall-mark of the mysterious East. - Dolly gazed in wonder. And I was commanded to show her a schooner like the - Black Moll, and a brigantine like the John. - </p> - <p> - “And Captain Paul told me you climbed the masts, Richard, and worked like - a common seaman. Tell me,” says she, pointing at the royal yard of a tall - East Indiaman, “did you go as high as that when it was rough?” - </p> - <p> - And, hugely to the boatman's delight, the minx must needs put her fingers - on the hard welts on my hands, and vow she would be a sailor and she were - a man. But at length we came to a trim-built bark lying off Redriff - Stairs, with the words “Betsy, of London,” painted across her stern. In no - time at all, Captain Paul was down the gangway ladder and at the - water-side, too hand Dorothy out. - </p> - <p> - “This honour overwhelms me, Miss Manners,” he said; “but I know whom to - thank for it.” And he glanced slyly at me. - </p> - <p> - Dorothy stepped aboard with the air of Queen Elizabeth come to inspect - Lord Howard's flagship. - </p> - <p> - “Then you will thank me,” said she. “Why, I could eat my dinner off your - deck, captain! Are all merchantmen so clean?” - </p> - <p> - John Paul smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Not all, Miss Manners,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “And you are still sailing at the ebb?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “In an hour, Richard, if the wind holds good.” - </p> - <p> - With what pride he showed us over his ship, the sailors gaping at the fine - young lady. It had taken him just a day to institute his navy discipline. - And Dolly went about exclaiming, and asking an hundred questions, and - merrily catechising me upon the run of the ropes. All was order and - readiness for dropping down the stream when he led us into his cabin, - where he had a bottle of wine and some refreshments laid out against my - coming. - </p> - <p> - “Had I presumed to anticipate your visit, Miss Manners, I should have had - something more suitable for a lady,” he said. “What, you will not eat, - either, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - I could not, so downcast had I become at the thought of parting. I had sat - up half the night before with him in restless argument and indecision, and - even when he had left for Rotherhithe, early that morning, my mind had not - been made. My conscience had insisted that I should sail with John Paul; - that I might never see my deaf grandfather on earth again. I had gone to - Arlington Street that morning resolved to say farewell to Dorothy. I will - not recount the history of that defeat, my dears. Nay, to this day I know - not how she accomplished the matter. Not once had she asked me to remain, - or referred to my going. Nor had I spoken of it, weakling that I was. She - had come down in the pink lutestring, smiling but pale; and traces of - tears in her eyes, I thought. From that moment I knew that I was defeated. - It was she herself who had proposed going with me to see the Betsy sail. - </p> - <p> - “I will drink some Madeira to wish you Godspeed, captain,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter with you, Richard?” Dolly cried; “you are as sour as - my Lord Sandwich after a bad Newmarket. Why, captain,” said she, “I really - believe he wants to go, too. The swain pines for his provincial beauty.” - </p> - <p> - Poor John Paul! He had not yet learned that good society is seldom - literal. - </p> - <p> - “Upon my soul, Miss Manners, there you do him wrong,” he retorted, with - ludicrous heat; “you, above all, should know for whom he pines.” - </p> - <p> - “He has misled you by praising me. This Richard, despite his frank - exterior, is most secretive.” - </p> - <p> - “There you have hit him, Miss Manners,” he declared; “there you have hit - him! We were together night and day, on the sea and on the road, and, - while I poured out my life to him, the rogue never once let fall a hint of - the divine Miss Dorothy. 'Twas not till I got to London that I knew of her - existence, and then only by a chance. You astonish me. You speak of a - young lady in Maryland?” - </p> - <p> - Dorothy swept aside my protest. - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” says she, gravely, “I leave you to judge. What is your - inference, when he fights a duel about a Miss with my Lord Comyn?” - </p> - <p> - “A duel!” cried the captain, astounded. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Manners persists in her view of the affair, despite my word to the - contrary,” I put in rather coldly. - </p> - <p> - “But a duel!” cried the captain again; “and with Lord Comyn! Miss Manners, - I fondly thought I had discovered a constant man, but you make me fear he - has had as many flames as I. And yet, Richard,” he added meaningly, “I - should think shame on my conduct and I had had such a subject for - constancy as you.” - </p> - <p> - Dorothy's armour was pierced, and my ill-humour broken down, by this - characteristic speech. We both laughed, greatly to his discomfiture. - </p> - <p> - “You had best go home with him, Richard,” said Dolly. “I can find my way - back to Arlington Street alone.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay; gallantry forbids his going with me now,” answered John Paul; “and I - have my sailing orders. But had I known of this, I should never have - wasted my breath in persuading him to remain.” - </p> - <p> - “And did he stand in need of much persuasion, captain?” asked Dolly, - archly. - </p> - <p> - Time was pressing, and the owner came aboard, puffing,—a - round-faced, vociferous, jolly merchant, who had no sooner got his breath - than he lost it again upon catching sight of Dolly. - </p> - <p> - While the captain was giving the mate his final orders, Mr. Orchardson, - for such was his name, regaled us with a part of his life's history. He - had been a master himself, and mangled and clipped King George's English - as only a true master might. - </p> - <p> - “I like your own captain better than ever, Richard,” whispered Dolly, - while Mr. Orchardson relieved himself of his quid over the other side; - “how commanding he is! Were I to take passage in the Betsy, I know I - should be in love with him long before we got to Norfolk.” - </p> - <p> - I took it upon myself to tell Mr. Orchardson, briefly and clearly as I - could, the lamentable story of John Paul's last cruise. For I feared it - might sooner or later reach his ears from prejudiced mouths. And I ended - by relating how the captain had refused a commission in the navy because - he had promised to take the Betsy. This appeared vastly to impress him, - and he forgot Dorothy's presence. - </p> - <p> - “Passion o' my 'eart, Mr. Carvel,” cried he, excitedly, - </p> - <p> - “John Paul's too big a man, an' too good a seaman, to go into the navy - without hinflooence. If flag horfocers I roots of is booted haside to - rankle like a lump o' salt butter in a gallipot, 'ow will a poor Scotch - lieutenant win hadvancement an' he be not o' the King's friends? 'Wilkes - an' Liberty,' say I; 'forever,' say I. An' w'en I see 'im goin' to the - Tower to be'old the Champion, 'Captain Paul,' says I, 'yere a man arfter - my hown 'eart.' My heye, sir, didn't I see 'im, w'n a mere lad, take the - John into Kingston 'arbour in the face o' the worst gale I hever seed - blowed in the Caribbees? An' I says, 'Bill Horchardson, an' ye Never 'ave - ships o' yere own, w'ich I 'ope will be, y'ell know were to look for a - marster.' An' I tells 'im that same, Mr. Carvel. I means no disrespect to - the dead, sir, but an' John Paul 'ad discharged the Betsy, I'd not 'a' - been out twenty barrels or more this day by Thames mudlarks an' scuffle - hunters. 'Eave me flat, if 'e'll be two blocks wi' liquor an' dischargin' - cargo. An' ye may rest heasy, Mr. Carvel, I'll not do wrong by 'im, - neither.” - </p> - <p> - He told me that if I would honour him in Maid Lane, Southwark, I should - have as many pounds as I liked of the best tobacco ever cured in Cuba. And - so he left me to see that the mate had signed all his lighter bills, - shouting to the captain not to forget his cockets at Gravesend. Dolly and - I stood silent while the men hove short, singing a jolly song to the step. - With a friendly wave the round figure of Mr. Orchardson disappeared over - the side, and I knew that the time had come to say farewell. I fumbled in - my waistcoat for the repeater I had bought that morning over against - Temple Bar, in Fleet Street, and I thrust it into John Paul's hand as he - came up. - </p> - <p> - “Take this in remembrance of what you have suffered so unselfishly for my - sake, Captain Paul,” I said, my voice breaking. “And whatever befalls you, - do not forget that Carvel Hall is your home as well as mine.” - </p> - <p> - He seemed as greatly affected as was I. Tears forced themselves to his - eyes as he held the watch, which he opened absently to read the simple - inscription I had put there. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Dickie lad!” he cried, “I'll be missing ye sair three hours hence, - and thinking of ye for months to come in the night watches. But something - tells me I'll see ye again.” - </p> - <p> - And he took me in his arms, embracing me with such fervour that there was - no doubting the sincerity of his feelings. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dorothy,” said he, when he was calmer, “I give ye Richard for a leal - and a true heart. Few men are born with the gift of keeping the affections - warm despite absence, and years, and interest. But have no fear of Richard - Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of - the deepening skies at twilight. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain,” she said gently. Then, with a - quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch - at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: “In token of my gratitude for - bringing him back to us.” - </p> - <p> - John Paul raised it to his lips. - </p> - <p> - “I shall treasure it, Miss Manners, as a memento of the greatest joy of my - life. And that has been,” gracefully taking her hand and mine, “the - bringing you two together again.” - </p> - <p> - Dorothy grew scarlet as she curtseyed. As for me, I could speak never a - word. He stepped over the side to hand her into the wherry, and embraced - me once again. And as we rowed away he waved his hat in a last good-by - from the taffrail. Then the Betsy floated down the Thames. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI. “UPSTAIRS INTO THE WORLD” - </h2> - <p> - It will be difficult, my dears, without bulging this history out of all - proportion, to give you a just notion of the society into which I fell - after John Paul left London. It was, above all, a gaming society. From - that prying and all-powerful God of Chance none, great or small, escaped. - Guineas were staked and won upon frugal King George and his beef and - barley-water; Charles Fox and his debts; the intrigues of Choiseul and the - Du Barry and the sensational marriage of the Due d'Orleans with Madame de - Montesson (for your macaroni knew his Paris as well as his London); Lord - March and his opera singer; and even the doings of Betty, the apple-woman - of St. James's Street, and the beautiful barmaid of Nando's in whom my - Lord Thurlow was said to be interested. All these, and much more not to be - repeated, were duly set down in the betting-books at White's and Brooks's. - </p> - <p> - Then the luxury of the life was something to startle a provincial, even - tho' he came, as did I, from one of the two most luxurious colonies of the - thirteen. Annapolis might be said to be London on a small scale,—but - on a very small scale. The historian of the future need look no farther - than our houses (if any remain), to be satisfied that we had more than the - necessities of existence. The Maryland aristocrat with his town place and - his country place was indeed a parallel of the patrician at home. He wore - his English clothes, drove and rode his English horses, and his coaches - were built in Long Acre. His heavy silver service came from Fleet Street, - and his claret and Champagne and Lisbon and Madeira were the best that - could be bought or smuggled. His sons were often educated at home, at Eton - or Westminster and Oxford or Cambridge. So would I have been if - circumstances had permitted. So was James Fotheringay, the eldest of the - family, and later the Dulany boys, and half a dozen others I might - mention. And then our ladies! 'Tis but necessary to cite my Aunt Caroline - as an extreme dame of fashion, who had her French hairdresser, Piton. - </p> - <p> - As was my aunt to the Duchess of Kingston, so was Annapolis to London. To - depict the life of Mayfair and of St. James's Street during a season about - the year of grace 1770 demands a mightier pen than wields the writer of - these simple memoirs. - </p> - <p> - And who was responsible for all this luxury and laxity? Who but the great - Mr. Pitt, then the Earl of Chatham, whose wise policy had made Britain the - ruler of the world, and rich beyond compare. From all corners of the earth - her wealth poured in upon her. Nabob and Caribbee came from East and West - to spend their money in the capital. And fortunes near as great were - acquired by the City merchants themselves. One by one these were admitted - within that charmed circle, whose motto for ages had been “No Trade,” to - leaven it with their gold. And to keep the pace,—nay, to set it, the - nobility and landed gentry were sore pressed. As far back as good Queen - Anne, and farther, their ancestors had gamed and tippled away the acres; - and now that John and William, whose forebears had been good tenants for - centuries, were setting their faces to Liverpool and Birmingham and Leeds, - their cottages were empty. So Lord and Squire went to London to - recuperate, and to get their share of the game running. St. James's Street - and St. Stephen's became their preserves. My Lord wormed himself into a - berth in the Treasury, robbed the country systematically for a dozen of - years, and sold the places and reversions under him to the highest bidder. - Boroughs were to be had somewhat dearer than a pair of colours. And my - Lord spent his spare time—he had plenty of it—in fleecing the - pigeons at White's and Almack's. Here there was no honour, even amongst - thieves. And young gentlemen were hurried through Eton and Oxford, where - they learned to drink and swear and to call a main as well as to play - tennis and billiards and to write Latin, and were thrust into Brooks's - before they knew the difference in value between a farthing and a - banknote: at nineteen they were hardened rake, or accomplished men of the - world, or both. Dissipated noblemen of middle age like March and Sandwich, - wits and beaus and fine gentlemen like Selwyn and Chesterfield and - Walpole, were familiarly called by their first names by youngsters like - Fox and Carlisle and Comyn. Difference of age was no difference. Young - Lord Carlisle was the intimate of Mr. Selwyn, born thirty years before - him. - </p> - <p> - And whilst I am speaking of intimacies, that short one which sprang up - between me and the renowned Charles Fox has always seemed the most - unaccountable: not on my part, for I fell a victim to him at once. Pen and - paper, brush and canvas, are wholly inadequate to describe the charm of - the man. When he desired to please, his conversation and the expression of - his face must have moved a temperament of stone itself. None ever had more - devoted friends or more ardent admirers. They saw his faults, which he - laid bare before them, but they settled his debts again and again, vast - sums which he lost at Newmarket and at Brooks's. And not many years after - the time of which I now write Lord Carlisle was paying fifteen hundred a - year on the sum he had loaned him, cheerfully denying himself the - pleasures of London as a consequence. - </p> - <p> - It was Mr. Fox who discovered for me my lodgings in Dover Street, vowing - that I could not be so out of fashion as to live at an inn. The brief - history of these rooms, as given by him, was this: “A young cub had owned - them, whose mamma had come up from Berkshire on Thursday, beat him soundly - on Friday, paid his debts on Saturday, and had taken him back on Sunday to - hunt with Sir Henry the rest of his life.” Dorothy came one day with her - mother and swept through my apartments, commanded all the furniture to be - moved about, ordered me to get pictures for the walls, and by one fell - decree abolished all the ornaments before the landlady, used as she was to - the ways of quality, had time to gasp. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard,” says my lady, “you will be wanting no end of pretty things - to take back to Maryland when you go. You shall come with me to-morrow to - Mr. Josiah Wedgwood's, to choose some of them.” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy!” says her mother, reprovingly. - </p> - <p> - “And he must have the Chippendale table I saw yesterday at the exhibition, - and chairs to match. And every bachelor should have a punch bowl—Josiah - has such a beauty!” - </p> - <p> - But I am running far ahead. Among the notes with which my table was laden, - Banks had found a scrawl. This I made out with difficulty to convey that - Mr. Fox was not attending Parliament that day. If Mr. Carvel would do him - the honour of calling at his lodging, over Mackie's Italian Warehouse in - Piccadilly, at four o'clock, he would take great pleasure in introducing - him at Brooks's Club. In those days 'twas far better for a young gentleman - of any pretensions to remain at home than go to London and be denied that - inner sanctuary,—the younger club at Almack's. Many the rich - brewer's son has embittered his life because it was not given him to see - more than the front of the house from the far side of Pall Mall. But to be - taken there by Charles Fox was an honour falling to few. I made sure that - Dolly was at the bottom of it. - </p> - <p> - Promptly at four I climbed the stairs and knocked at Mr. Fox's door. The - Swiss who opened it shook his head dubiously when I asked for his master, - and said he had not been at home that day. - </p> - <p> - “But I had an appointment to meet him,” I said, thinking it very strange. - </p> - <p> - The man's expression changed. - </p> - <p> - “An appointment, sir! Ah, sir, then you are to step in here.” And to my - vast astonishment he admitted me into a small room at one side of the - entrance. It was bare as poverty, and furnished with benches, and nothing - more. On one of these was seated a person with an unmistakable nose and an - odour of St. Giles's, who sprang to his feet and then sat down again - dejectedly. I also sat down, wondering what it could mean, and debating - whether to go or stay. - </p> - <p> - “Exguse me, your honour,” said the person, “but haf you seen Mister Fox?” - </p> - <p> - I said that I, too, was waiting for him, whereat he cast at me a cunning - look beyond my comprehension. Surely, I thought, a man of Fox's inherited - wealth and position could not be living in such a place! Before the truth - and humour of the situation had dawned upon me, I heard a ringing voice - without, swearing in most forcible English, and the door was thrown open, - admitting a tall young gentleman, as striking as I have ever seen. He paid - not the smallest attention to the Jew, who was bowing and muttering behind - me. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Richard Carvel?” said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye. - </p> - <p> - I bowed. - </p> - <p> - “Gad's life, Mr. Carvel, I'm deuced sorry this should have happened. Will - you come with me?” - </p> - <p> - “Exguse me, your honour!” cried the other visitor. - </p> - <p> - “Now, what the plague, Aaron!” says he; “you wear out the stairs. Come - to-morrow, or the day after.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, 'tis always 'to-morrow' with you fine gentlemen. But I vill bring the - bailiffs, so help me—” - </p> - <p> - “Damn 'em!” says the tall young gentleman, as he slammed the door and so - shut off the wail. “Damn 'em, they worry Charles to death. If he would - only stick to quinze and picquet, and keep clear of the hounds*, he need - never go near a broker.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - [* The “hounds,” it appears, were the gentlemen of sharp practices at - White's and Almack's.—D. C. C.] -</pre> - <p> - “Do you have Jews in America, Mr. Carvel?” Without waiting for an answer, - he led me through a parlour, hung with pictures, and bewilderingly - furnished with French and Italian things, and Japan and China ware and - bronzes, and cups and trophies. “My name is Fitzpatrick, Mr. Carvel,—yours - to command, and Charles's. I am his ally for offence and defence. We went - to school together,” he explained simply. - </p> - <p> - His manner was so free, and yet so dignified, as to charm me completely. - For I heartily despised all that fustian trumpery of the age. Then came a - voice from beyond, calling:— - </p> - <p> - “That you, Carvel? Damn that fellow Eiffel, and did he thrust you into the - Jerusalem Chamber?” - </p> - <p> - “The Jerusalem Chamber!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Where I keep my Israelites,” said he; “but, by Gad's life! I think they - are one and all descended from Job, and not father Abraham at all. He must - have thought me cursed ascetic, eh, Fitz? Did you find the benches hard? I - had 'em made hard as the devil. But if they were of stone, I vow the flock - could find their own straw to sit on.” - </p> - <p> - “Curse it, Charles,” cut in Mr. Fitzpatrick, in some temper, “can't you be - serious for once! He would behave this way, Mr. Carvel, if he were being - shriven by the Newgate ordinary before a last carting to Tyburn. Charles, - Charles, it was Aaron again, and the dog is like to snap at last. He is - talking of bailiffs. Take my advice and settle with him. Hold Cavendish - off another fortnight and settle with him.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fox's reply was partly a laugh, and the rest of it is not to be - printed. He did not seem in the least to mind this wholesale disclosure of - his somewhat awkward affairs. And he continued to dress, or to be dressed, - alternately swearing at his valet and talking to Fitzpatrick and to me. - </p> - <p> - “You are both of a name,” said he. “Let a man but be called Richard, and I - seem to take to him. I' faith, I like the hunchback king, and believe our - friend Horry Walpole is right in defending him, despite Davie Hume. I vow - I shall like you, Mr. Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - I replied that I certainly hoped so. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, you come well enough recommended,” he said, pulling on his - breeches. “No, Eiffel, cursed if I go en petit maitre to-day. How does - that strike you for a demi saison, Mr. Buckskin? I wore three of 'em - through the customs last year, and March's worked olive nightgown tucked - under my greatcoat, and near a dozen pairs of shirts and stockings. And - each of my servants had on near as much. O Lud, we were amazing-like - beef-eaters or blower pigeons. Sorry you won't meet my brother,—he - that will have the title. He's out of town.” - </p> - <p> - Going on in this discursory haphazard way while he dressed, he made me - feel much at home. For the young dictator—so Mr. Fitzpatrick - informed me afterward—either took to you or else he did not, and - stood upon no ceremony. After he had chosen a coat with a small pattern - and his feet had been thrust into the little red shoes with the high - heels, imported by him from France, he sent for a hackney-chaise. And the - three of us drove together to Pall Mall. Mr. Brooks was at the door, and - bowed from his hips as we entered. - </p> - <p> - “A dozen vin de Graves, Brooks!” cries Mr. Fox, and ushers me into a - dining room, with high curtained windows and painted ceiling, and - chandeliers throwing a glitter of light. There, at a long table, - surrounded by powdered lackeys, sat a bevy of wits, mostly in blue and - silver, with point ruffles, to match Mr. Fox's costume. They greeted my - companions uproariously. It was “Here's Charles at last!” “Howdy, - Charles!” “Hello, Richard!” and “What have you there? a new Caribbee?” - They made way for Mr. Fox at the head of the table, and he took the seat - as though it were his right. - </p> - <p> - “This is Mr. Richard Carvel, gentlemen, of Carvel Hall, in Maryland.” - </p> - <p> - They stirred with interest when my name was called, and most of them - turned in their chairs to look at me. I knew well the reason, and felt my - face grow hot. Although you may read much of the courtesy of that age, - there was a deal of brutal frankness among young men of fashion. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, Charles, is this he the Beauty rescued from Castle Yard?” - </p> - <p> - A familiar voice relieved my embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Give the devil his due, Bully. You forget that I had a hand in that.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Jack Comyn,” retorted the gentleman addressed, “you're already - famous for clinging to her skirt.” - </p> - <p> - “But cling to mine, Bully, and we'll all enter the temple together. But I - bid you welcome, Richard,” said his Lordship; “you come with two of the - most delightful vagabonds in the world.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fox introduced me in succession to Colonel St. John, known in St. - James's Street as the Baptist; to my Lord Bolingbroke, Colonel St. John's - brother, who was more familiarly called Bully; to Mr. Fitzpatrick's - brother, the Earl of Upper Ossory, who had come up to London, so he said, - to see a little Italian dance at the Garden; to Gilly Williams; to Sir - Charles Bunbury, who had married Lady Sarah Lennox, Fox's cousin, the - beauty who had come so near to being queen of all England; to Mr. Storer, - who was at once a Caribbee and a Crichton; to Mr. Uvedale Price. These I - remember, but there are more that escape me. Most good-naturedly they - drank my health in Charles's vin de grave, at four shillings the bottle; - and soon I was astonished to find myself launched upon the story of my - adventures, which they had besought me to tell them. When I had done, they - pledged me again, and, beginning to feel at home, I pledged them - handsomely in return. Then the conversation began. The like of it I have - never heard anywhere else in the world. There was a deal that might not be - written here, and a deal more that might, to make these pages sparkle. - They went through the meetings, of course, and thrashed over the list of - horses entered at Ipswich, and York, and Newmarket, and how many were - thought to be pulled. Then followed the recent gains and losses of each - and every individual of the company. After that there was a roar of - merriment over Mr. Storer cracking mottoes with a certain Lady Jane; and - how young Lord Stavordale, on a wager, tilted the candles and set fire to - the drawing-room at Lady Julia's drum, the day before. Mr. Price told of - the rage Topham Beauclerk had got Dr. Johnson into, by setting down a mark - for each oyster the sage had eaten, and showing him the count. But Mr. - Fox, who was the soul of the club, had the best array of any. He related - how he had gone post from Paris to Lyons, to order, among other things, an - embroidered canary waistcoat for George Selwyn from Jabot. “' Et quel - dessin, monsieur?' 'Beetles and frogs, in green.' 'Escargots! - grenouilles!' he cries, with a shriek; 'Et pour Monsieur Selwyn! Monsieur - Fox badine!' It came yesterday, by Crawford, and I sent it to Chesterfield - Street in time for George to wear to the Duchess's. He has been twice to - Piccadilly after me, and twice here, and swears he will have my heart. And - I believe he is now gone to Matson in a funk.” - </p> - <p> - After that they fell upon politics. I knew that Mr. Fox was already near - the head of the King's party, and that he had just received a substantial - reward at his Majesty's hands; and I went not far to guess that every one - of these easy-going, devil-may-care macaronies was a follower or - sympathizer with Lord North's policy. But what I heard was a revelation - indeed. I have dignified it by calling it politics. All was frankness here - amongst friends. There was no attempt made to gloss over ugly transactions - with a veneer of morality. For this much I honoured them. But irresistibly - there came into my mind the grand and simple characters of our own public - men in America, and it made me shudder to think that, while they strove - honestly for our rights, this was the type which opposed them. Motives of - personal spite and of personal gain were laid bare, and even the barter - and sale of offices of trust took place before my very eyes. I was silent, - though my tongue burned me, until one of the gentlemen, thinking me - neglected, said: - </p> - <p> - “What a-deuce is to be done with those unruly countrymen of yours, Mr. - Carvel? Are they likely to be pacified now that we have taken off all - except the tea? You who are of our party must lead a sorry life among - them. Tell me, do they really mean to go as far as rebellion?” - </p> - <p> - The blood rushed to my face. - </p> - <p> - “It is not a question of tea, sir,” I answered hotly; “nor yet of - tuppence. It is a question of principle, which means more to Englishmen - than life itself. And we are Englishmen.” - </p> - <p> - I believe I spoke louder than I intended, for a silence followed my words. - Fox glanced at Comyn, who of all of them at the table was not smiling, and - said: - </p> - <p> - “I thought you came of a loyalist family, Mr. Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - “King George has no more loyal servants than the Americans, Mr. Fox, be - they Tory or Whig. And he has but to read our petitions to discover it,” I - said. - </p> - <p> - I spoke calmly, but my heart was thumping with excitement and resentment. - The apprehension of the untried is apt to be sharp at such moments, and I - looked for them to turn their backs upon me for an impertinent provincial. - Indeed, I think they would have, all save Comyn, had it not been for Fox - himself. He lighted a pipe, smiled, and began easily, quite - dispassionately, to address me. - </p> - <p> - “I wish you would favour us with your point of view, Mr. Carvel,” said he; - “for, upon my soul, I know little about the subject.” - </p> - <p> - “You know little about the subject, and you in Parliament!” - </p> - <p> - I cried. - </p> - <p> - This started them all to laughing. Why, I did not then understand. But I - was angry enough. - </p> - <p> - “Come, let's have it!” said he. - </p> - <p> - They drew their chairs closer, some wearing that smile of superiority - which to us is the Englishman's most maddening trait. I did not stop to - think twice, or to remember that I was pitted against the greatest debater - in all England. I was to speak that of which I was full, and the heart's - argument needs no logic to defend it. If it were my last word, I would - pronounce it. - </p> - <p> - I began by telling them that the Americans had paid their share of the - French war, in blood and money, twice over. And I had the figures in my - memory. Mr. Fox interrupted. For ten minutes at a space he spoke, and in - all my life I have never talked to a man who had the English of King - James's Bible, of Shakespeare, and Milton so wholly at his command. And - his knowledge of history, his classical citations, confounded me. I forgot - myself in wondering how one who had lived so fast had acquired such - learning. Afterward, when I tried to recall what he said, I laughed at his - surprising ignorance of the question at issue, and wondered where my wits - could have gone that I allowed myself to be dazzled and turned aside at - every corner. As his speech came faster he twisted fact into fiction and - fiction into fact, until I must needs close my mind and bolt the shutters - of it, or he had betrayed me into confessing the right of Parliament to - quarter troops among us. Though my head swam, I clung doggedly to my text. - And that was my salvation. He grew more excited, and they applauded him. - In truth, I myself felt near to clapping. And then, as I stared him in the - eye, marvelling how a man of such vast power and ability could stand for - such rotten practices, the thought came to me (I know not whence) of Saint - Paul the Apostle. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Fox,” I said, when he had paused, “before God, do you believe what - you are saying?” - </p> - <p> - I saw them smiling at my earnestness and simplicity. Fox seemed surprised, - and laughed evasively,—not heartily as was his wont. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mr. Carvel,” he said, glancing around the circle, political - principles are not to be swallowed like religion, but taken rather like - medicine, experimentally. If they agree with you, very good. If not, drop - them and try others. We are always ready to listen to remedies, here.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, if they agree with you!” I exclaimed. “But food for one is poison for - another. Do you know what you are doing? You are pushing home injustice - and tyranny to the millions, for the benefit of the thousands. For is it - not true, gentlemen, that the great masses of England are against the - measures you impose upon us? Their fight is our fight. They are no longer - represented in Parliament; we have never been. Taxation without - representation is true of your rotten boroughs as well as of your vast - colonies. You are helping the King to crush freedom abroad in order that - he may the more easily break it at home. You are committing a crime. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you we would give up all we own were the glory or honour of - England at stake. And yet you call us rebels, and accuse us of meanness - and of parsimony. If you wish money, leave the matter to our colonial - assemblies, and see how readily you will get it. But if you wish war, - persist in trying to grind the spirit from a people who have in them the - pride of your own ancestors. Yes, you are estranging the colonies, - gentlemen. A greater man than I has warned you” - </p> - <p> - And with that I rose, believing that I had given them all mortal offence. - To my astonishment several got to their feet in front of me, huzzaing, and - Comyn and Lord Ossory grasped my hands. And Charles Fox reached out over - the corner of the table and pulled me back into my chair. - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, Richard Carvel!” he cried. “Cursed if I don't love a man who will - put up a fight against odds. Who will stand bluff to what he believes, and - won't be talked out of his boots. We won't quarrel with any such here, my - buckskin, I can tell you.” - </p> - <p> - And that is the simple story, my dears, of the beginning of my friendship - with one who may rightly be called the Saint Paul of English politics. He - had yet some distance to go, alas, ere he was to begin that sturdy battle - for the right for which his countrymen and ours will always bless him. I - gave him my hand with a better will than I had ever done anything, and we - pressed our fingers numb. And his was not the only hand I clasped. And - honest Jack Comyn ordered more wine, that they might drink to a speedy - reconciliation with America. - </p> - <p> - “A pint bumper to Richard Carvel!” said Mr. Fitzpatrick. - </p> - <p> - I pledged Brooks's Club in another pint. Upon which they swore that I was - a good fellow, and that if all American Whigs were like me, all cause of - quarrel was at an end. Of this I was not so sure, nor could I see that the - question had been settled one way or another. And that night I had reason - to thank the Reverend Mr. Allen, for the first and last time in my life, - that I could stand a deal of liquor, and yet not roll bottom upward. - </p> - <p> - The dinner was settled on the Baptist, who paid for it without a murmur. - And then we adjourned to the business of the evening. The great - drawing-room, lighted by an hundred candles, was filled with gayly dressed - macaronies, and the sound of their laughter and voices in contention - mingled with the pounding of the packs on the mahogany and the rattle of - the dice and the ring of the gold pieces. The sight was dazzling, and the - noise distracting. Fox had me under his especial care, and I was presented - to young gentlemen who bore names that had been the boast of England - through the centuries. Lands their forebears had won by lance and sword, - they were squandering away as fast as ever they could. I, too, was known. - All had heard the romance of the Beauty and Castle Yard, and some had - listened to Horry Walpole tell that foolish story of Goble at Windsor, on - which he seemed to set such store. They guessed at my weight. They betted - upon it. And they wished to know if I could spin Mr. Brooks, who was - scraping his way from table to table. They gave me choice of whist, or - picquet, or quinze, or hazard. I was carried away. Nay, I make no excuse. - Tho' the times were drinking and gaming ones, I had been brought up that a - gentleman should do both in moderation. We mounted, some dozen of us, to - the floor above, and passed along to a room of which Fox had the key; and - he swung me in on his arm, the others pressing after. And the door was - scarce closed and locked again, before they began stripping off their - clothes. - </p> - <p> - To my astonishment, Fox handed me a great frieze coat, which he bade me - don, as the others were doing. Some were turning their coats inside out; - for luck, said they; and putting on footman's leather guards to save their - ruffles. And they gave me a hat with a high crown, and a broad brim to - save my eyes from the candle glare. We were as grotesque a set as ever I - laid my eyes upon. But I hasten over the scene; which has long become - distasteful to me. I mention it only to show to what heights of folly the - young men had gone. I recall a gasp when they told me they played for - rouleaux of ten pounds each, but I took out my pocket-book as boldly as - tho' I had never played for less, and laid my stake upon the board. Fox - lost, again and again; but he treated his ill-luck with such a raillery of - contemptuous wit, that we must needs laugh with him. Comyn, too, lost, and - at supper excused himself, saying that he had promised his mother, the - dowager countess, not to lose more than a quarter's income at a sitting. - But I won and won, until the fever of it got into my blood, and as the - first faint light of that morning crept into the empty streets, we were - still at it, Fox vowing that he never waked up until daylight. That the - best things he said in the House came to him at dawn. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII. LADY TANKERVILLE'S DRUM-MAJOR - </h2> - <p> - The rising sun, as he came through the little panes of the windows, etched - a picture of that room into my brain. I can see the twisted candles with - their wax smearing the sticks, the chairs awry, the tables littered with - blackened pipes, and bottles, and spilled wine and tobacco among the dice; - and the few that were left of my companions, some with dark lines under - their eyes, all pale, but all gay, unconcerned, witty, and cynical; - smoothing their ruffles, and brushing the ashes and snuff from the pattern - of their waistcoats. As we went downstairs, singing a song Mr. Foote had - put upon the stage that week, they were good enough to declare that I - should never be permitted to go back to Maryland. That my grandfather - should buy me a certain borough, which might be had for six thousand - pounds. - </p> - <p> - The drawing-room made a dismal scene, too, after the riot and disorder of - the night. Sleepy servants were cleaning up, but Fox vowed that they - should bring us yet another bottle before going home. So down we sat about - the famous old round table, Fox fingering the dents the gold had made in - the board, and philosophizing; and reciting Orlando Furioso in the - Italian, and Herodotus in the original Greek. Suddenly casting his eyes - about, they fell upon an ungainly form stretched on a lounge, that made us - all start. - </p> - <p> - “Bully!” he cried; “I'll lay you fifty guineas that Mr. Carvel gets the - Beauty, against Chartersea.” - </p> - <p> - This roused me. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Mr. Fox, I beg of you,” I protested, with all the vehemence I could - muster. “Miss Manners must not be writ down in such a way.” - </p> - <p> - For answer he snapped his fingers at the drowsy Brooks, who brought the - betting book. - </p> - <p> - “There!” says he; “and there, and there,” turning over the pages; “her - name adorns a dozen leaves, my fine buckskin. And it will be well to have - some truth about her. Enter the wager, Brooks.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold!” shouts Bolingbroke; “I haven't accepted.” - </p> - <p> - You may be sure I was in an agony over this desecration, which I was so - powerless to prevent. But as I was thanking my stars that the matter had - blown over with Bolingbroke's rejection, there occurred a most singular - thing. - </p> - <p> - The figure on the lounge, with vast difficulty, sat up. To our amazement - we beheld the bloated face of the Duke of Chartersea staring stupidly. - </p> - <p> - “Damme, Bully, you refushe bet like tha'!” he said. “I'll take doshen of - 'em-doshen, egad. Gimme the book, Brooksh. Cursh Fox—lay thousand d—d - provinshial never getsh 'er—I know—” - </p> - <p> - I sat very still, seized with a loathing beyond my power to describe to - thick that this was the man Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry. Fox - laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Help his Grace to his coach,” he said to two of the footmen. - </p> - <p> - “Kill fellow firsht!” cried his Grace, with his hand on his sword, and - instantly fell over, and went sound asleep. - </p> - <p> - “His Grace has sent his coach home, your honour,” said one of the men, - respectfully. “The duke is very quarrelsome, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Put him in a chair, then,” said Charles. - </p> - <p> - So they fearfully lifted his Grace, who was too far gone to resist, and - carried him to a chair. And Mr. Fox bribed the chairmen with two guineas - apiece, which he borrowed from me, to set his Grace down amongst the - marketwomen at Covent Garden. - </p> - <p> - The next morning Banks found in my pockets something over seven hundred - pounds more than I had had the day before. - </p> - <p> - I rose late, my head swimming with mains and nicks, and combinations of - all the numbers under the dozen; debated whether or no I would go to - Arlington Street, and decided that I had not the courage. Comyn settled it - by coming in his cabriolet, proposed that we should get the air in the - park, dine at the Cocoa Tree, and go afterwards to Lady Tankerville's - drum-major, where Dolly would undoubtedly be. - </p> - <p> - “Now you are here, Richard,” said his Lordship, with his accustomed - bluntness, “and your sea-captain has relieved your Quixotic conscience, - what the deuce do you intend to do? - </p> - <p> - “Win a thousand pounds every night at Brooks's, or improve your time and - do your duty, and get Miss Manners out of his Grace's clutches? I'll - warrant something will come of that matter this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope so,” I said shortly. - </p> - <p> - Comyn looked at me sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Would you fight him?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “If he gave me the chance.” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship whistled. “Egad, then,” said he, “I shall want to be there to - see. In spite of his pudding-bag shape he handles the sword as well as any - man in England. I have crossed with him at Angelo's. And he has a devilish - tricky record, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - I said nothing to that. - </p> - <p> - “Hope you do—kill him,” Comyn continued. “He deserves it richly. But - that will be a cursed unpleasant way of settling the business,—unpleasant - for you, unpleasant for her, and cursed unpleasant for him, too, I - suppose. Can't you think of any other way of getting her? Ask Charles to - give you a plan of campaign. You haven't any sense, and neither have I.” - </p> - <p> - “Hang you, Jack, I have no hopes of getting her,” I replied, for I was out - of humour with myself that day. “In spite of what you say, I know she - doesn't care a brass farthing to marry me. So let's drop that.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn made a comic gesture of deprecation. I went on: “But I am going to - stay here and find out the truth, though it may be a foolish undertaking. - And if he is intimidating Mr. Manners—” - </p> - <p> - “You may count on me, and on Charles,” said my Lord, generously; “and - there are some others I know of. Gad! You made a dozen of friends and - admirers by what you said last night, Richard. And his Grace has a few - enemies. You will not lack support.” - </p> - <p> - We dined very comfortably at the Cocoa Tree, where Comyn had made an - appointment for me with two as diverting gentlemen as had ever been my lot - to meet. My Lord Carlisle was the poet and scholar of the little clique - which had been to Eton with Charles Fox, any member of which (so 'twas - said) would have died for him. His Lordship, be it remarked in passing, - was as lively a poet and scholar as can well be imagined. He had been - recently sobered, so Comyn confided; which I afterwards discovered meant - married. Charles Fox's word for the same was fallen. And I remembered that - Jack had told me it was to visit Lady Carlisle at Castle Howard that - Dorothy was going when she heard of my disappearance. Comyn's other guest - was Mr. Topham Beauclerk, the macaroni friend of Dr. Johnson. He, too, had - been recently married, but appeared no more sobered than his Lordship. Mr. - Beauclerk's wife, by the way, was the beautiful Lady Diana Spencer, who - had been divorced from Lord Bolingbroke, the Bully I had met the night - before. These gentlemen seemed both well acquainted with Miss Manners, and - vowed that none but American beauties would ever be the fashion in London - more. Then we all drove to Lady Tankerville's drum-major near Chesterfield - House. - </p> - <p> - “You will be wanting a word with her when she comes in,” said Comyn, slyly - divining. Poor fellow! I fear that I scarcely appreciated his feelings as - to Dorothy, or the noble unselfishness of his friendship for me. - </p> - <p> - We sat aside in a recess of the lower hall, watching the throng as they - passed: haughty dowagers, distorted in lead and disfigured in silk and - feathers nodding at the ceiling; accomplished beaus of threescore or more, - carefully mended for the night by their Frenchmen at home; young ladies in - gay brocades with round skirts and stiff, pear-shaped bodices; and - youngsters just learning to ogle and to handle their snuff-boxes. One by - one their names were sent up and solemnly mouthed by the footman on the - landing. At length, when we had all but given her up, Dorothy arrived. A - hood of lavender silk heightened the oval of her face, and out from under - it crept rebellious wisps of her dark hair. But she was very pale, and I - noticed for the first time a worn expression that gave me a twinge of - uneasiness. 'Twas then I caught sight of the duke, a surly stamp on his - leaden features. And after him danced Mr. Manners. Dolly gave a little cry - when she saw me. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! Richard, I am so glad you are here. I was wondering what had become - of you. And Comyn, too.” Whispering to me, “Mamma has had a letter from - Mrs. Brice; your grandfather has been to walk in the garden.” - </p> - <p> - “And Grafton?” - </p> - <p> - “She said nothing of your uncle,” she replied, with a little shudder at - the name; “but wrote that Mr. Carvel was said to be better. So there! your - conscience need not trouble you for remaining. I am sure he would wish you - to pay a visit home. - </p> - <p> - “And I have to scold you, sir. You have not been to Arlington Street for - three whole days.” - </p> - <p> - It struck me suddenly that her gayety was the same as that she had worn to - my birthday party, scarce a year agone. - </p> - <p> - “Dolly, you are not well!” I said anxiously. - </p> - <p> - She flung her head saucily for answer. In the meantime his Grace, talking - coldly to Comyn, had been looking unutterable thunders at me. I thought of - him awaking in the dew at Covent Garden, and could scarce keep from - laughing in his face. Mr. Marmaduke squirmed to the front. - </p> - <p> - “Morning, Richard,” he said, with a marked cordiality. “Have you met the - Duke of Chartersea? No! Your Grace, this is Mr. Richard Carvel. His family - are dear friends of ours in the colonies.” - </p> - <p> - To my great surprise, the duke saluted me quite civilly. But I had the - feeling of facing a treacherous bull which would gore me as soon as ever - my back was turned. He was always putting me in mind of a bull, with his - short neck and heavy, hunched shoulders,—and with the ugly tinge of - red in the whites of his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners tells me you are to remain awhile in London, Mr. Carvel,” he - said, in his thick voice. - </p> - <p> - I took his meaning instantly, and replied in kind. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, your Grace, I have some business to attend to here.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” he answered; “then I shall see you again.” - </p> - <p> - “Probably, sir,” said I. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship watched this thrust and parry with an ill-concealed delight. - Dorothy's face was impassive, expressionless. As the duke turned to mount - the stairs, he stumbled clumsily across a young man coming to pay his - respects to Miss Manners, and his Grace went sprawling against the wall. - </p> - <p> - “Confound you, sir!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - For the ducal temper was no respecter of presences. Then a title was a - title to those born lower, and the young man plainly had a vast honour for - a coronet. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your Grace's pardon,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Who the deuce is he?” demanded the duke petulantly of Mr. Manners, - thereby setting the poor little man all a-tremble. - </p> - <p> - “Why, why,—” he replied, searching for his spyglass. - </p> - <p> - For an instant Dolly's eyes shot scorn. Chartersea had clearly seen and - heeded that signal before. - </p> - <p> - “The gentleman is a friend of mine,” she said. - </p> - <p> - Tho' I were put out of the Garden of Eden as a consequence, I itched to - have it out with his Grace then and there. I knew that I was bound to come - into collision with him sooner or later. Such, indeed, was my mission in - London. But Dorothy led the way upstairs, a spot of colour burning each of - her cheeks. The stream of guests had been arrested until the hall was - packed, and the curious were peering over the rail above. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, wasn't she superb!” exclaimed Comyn, exultingly, as we followed. In - the drawing-room the buzzing about the card tables was hushed a moment as - she went in. But I soon lost sight of her, thanks to Comyn. He drew me on - from group to group, and I was duly presented to a score of Lady - So-and-sos and honourable misses, most of whom had titles, but little - else. Mammas searched their memories, and suddenly discovered that they - had heard their parents speak of my grandfather. But, as it was a fair - presumption that most colonial gentlemen made a visit home at least once - in their lives, I did not allow the dust to get into my eyes. I was - invited to dinners, and fairly showered with invitations to balls and - drums and garden parties. I was twitted about the Beauty, most often with - only a thin coating of amiability covering the spite of the remark. In - short, if my head had not been so heavily laden with other matters, it - might well have become light under the strain. Had I been ambitious to - enter the arena I should have had but little trouble, since eligibility - then might be reduced to guineas and another element not moral. I was the - only heir of one of the richest men in the colony, vouched for by the - Manners and taken up by Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn. Inquiries are not - pushed farther. I could not help seeing the hardness of it all, or refrain - from contrasting my situation with that of the penniless outcast I had - been but a little time before. The gilded rooms, the hundred yellow - candles multiplied by the mirrors, the powder, the perfume, the jewels,—all - put me in mind of the poor devils I had left wasting away their lives in - Castle Yard. They, too, had had their times of prosperity, their friends - who had faded with the first waning of fortune. Some of them had known - what it was to be fawned over. And how many of these careless, flitting - men of fashion I looked upon could feel the ground firm beneath their - feet; or could say with certainty what a change of ministers, or one wild - night at White's or Almack's, would bring forth? Verily, one must have - seen the under side of life to know the upper! - </p> - <p> - Presently I was sought out by Mr. Topham Beauclerk, who had heard of the - episode below and wished to hear more. He swore at the duke. - </p> - <p> - “He will be run through some day, and serve him jolly right,” said he. - “Bet you twenty pounds Charles Fox does it! His Grace knows he has the - courage to fight him.” - </p> - <p> - “The courage!” I repeated. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Angelo says the duke has diabolical skill. And then he won't fight - fair. He killed young Atwater on a foul, you know. Slipped on the wet - grass, and Chartersea had him pinned before he caught his guard. But there - is Lady Di a-calling, a-calling.” - </p> - <p> - “Do all the women cheat in America too?” asked Topham, as we approached. - </p> - <p> - I thought of my Aunt Caroline, and laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Some,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “They will game, d—n 'em,” said Topham, as tho' he had never gamed - in his life. “And they will cheat, till a man has to close his eyes to - keep from seeing their pretty hands. And they will cry, egad, oh so - touchingly, if the luck goes against them in spite of it all. Only last - week I had to forgive Mrs Farnham an hundred guineas. She said she'd lost - her pin-money twice over, and was like to have wept her eyes out.” - </p> - <p> - Thus primed in Topham's frank terms, I knew what to expect. And I found to - my amusement he had not overrun the truth. I lost like a stoic, saw - nothing, and discovered the straight road to popularity. - </p> - <p> - “The dear things expect us to make it up at the clubs,” whispered he. - </p> - <p> - I discovered how he had fallen in love with his wife, Lady Diana, and - pitied poor Bolingbroke heartily for having lost her. She was then in her - prime,—a beauty, a wit, and a great lady, with a dash of the - humanities about her that brought both men and women to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “You must come to see me, Mr. Carvel,” said she. “I wish to talk to you of - Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - “Your Ladyship believes me versed in no other subject?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “None other worth the mention,” she replied instantly; “Topham tells me - you can talk horses, and that mystery of mysteries, American politics. But - look at Miss Manners Dow. I'll warrant she is making Sir Charles see to - his laurels, and young Stavordale is struck dumb.” - </p> - <p> - I looked up quickly and beheld Dolly surrounded by a circle of admirers. - </p> - <p> - “Mark the shot strike!” Lady Di continued, between the deals; “that time - Chartersea went down. I fancy he is bowled over rather often,” she said - slyly. “What a brute it is. And they say that that little woman she has - for a father imagines a union with the duke will redound to his glory.” - </p> - <p> - “They say,” remarked Mrs. Meynel, sitting next me, “that the duke has - thumbscrews of some kind on Mr. Manners.” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Manners is able to take care of herself,” said Topham. - </p> - <p> - “'On dit', that she has already refused as many dukes as did her Grace of - Argyle,” said Mrs. Meynel. - </p> - <p> - I had lost track of the cards, and knew I was losing prodigiously. But my - eyes went back again and again to the group by the doorway, where Dolly - was holding court and dispensing justice, and perchance injustice. The - circle increased. Ribands, generals whose chests were covered with medals - of valour, French noblemen, and foreign ambassadors stopped for a word - with the Beauty and passed on their way, some smiling, some reflecting, to - make room for others. I overheard from the neighbouring tables a spiteful - protest that a young upstart from the colonies should turn Lady - Tankerville's drum into a levee. My ears tingled as I listened. But not a - feathered parrot in the carping lot of them could deny that Miss Manners - had beauty and wit enough to keep them all at bay. Hers was not an English - beauty: every line of her face and pose of her body proclaimed her of that - noble type of Maryland women, distinctly American, over which many - Englishmen before and since have lost their heads and hearts. - </p> - <p> - “Egad!” exclaimed Mr. Storer, who was looking on; “she's already defeated - some of the Treasury Bench, and bless me if she isn't rating North - himself.” - </p> - <p> - Half the heads in the room were turned toward Miss Manners, who was - exchanging jokes with the Prime Minister of Great Britain. I saw a - corpulent man, ludicrously like the King's pictures, with bulging gray - eyes that seemed to take in nothing. And this was North, upon whose - conduct with the King depended the fate of our America. Good-natured he - was, and his laziness was painfully apparent. He had the reputation of - going to sleep standing, like a horse. - </p> - <p> - “But the Beauty contrives to keep him awake,” said Storer. - </p> - <p> - “If you stay among us, Mr. Carvel,” said Topham, “she will get you a - commissionership for the asking.” - </p> - <p> - “Look,” cried Lady Di, “there comes Mr. Fox, the precocious, the - irresistible. Were he in the Bible, we should read of him passing the time - of day with King Solomon.” - </p> - <p> - “Or instructing Daniel in the art of lion-taming,” put in Mrs. Meynel. - </p> - <p> - There was Mr. Fox in truth, and the Beauty's face lighted up at sight of - him. And presently, when Lord North had made his bow and passed on, he was - seen to lead her out of the room, leaving her circle to go to pieces, like - an empire without a head. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII. DRURY LANE - </h2> - <p> - After a night spent in making resolutions, I set out for Arlington Street, - my heart beating a march, as it had when I went thither on my arrival in - London. Such was my excitement that I was near to being run over in - Piccadilly like many another country gentleman, and roundly cursed by a - wagoner for my stupidity. I had a hollow bigness within me, half of joy, - half of pain, that sent me onward with ever increasing steps and a - whirling storm of contradictions in my head. Now it was: Dolly loved me in - spite of all the great men in England. Why, otherwise, had she come to the - sponging-house? Berating myself: had her affection been other than that of - a life-long friendship she would not have come an inch. But why had she - made me stay in London? Why had she spoken so to Comyn? What - interpretation might be put upon a score of little acts of hers that came - a-flooding to mind, each a sacred treasure of memory? A lover's - interpretation, forsooth. Fie, Richard! what presumption to think that - you, a raw lad, should have a chance in such a field! You have yet, by - dint of hard knocks and buffets, to learn the world. - </p> - <p> - By this I had come in sight of her house, and suddenly I trembled like a - green horse before a cannon. My courage ran out so fast that I was soon - left without any, and my legs had carried me as far as St. James's Church - before I could bring them up. Then I was sure, for the first time, that - she did not love me. In front of the church I halted, reflecting that I - had not remained in England with any hope of it, but rather to discover - the truth about Chartersea's actions, and to save her, if it were - possible. I turned back once more, and now got as far as the knocker, and - lifted it as a belfry was striking the hour of noon. I think I would have - fled again had not the door been immediately opened. - </p> - <p> - Once more I found myself in the room looking out over the Park, the French - windows open to the balcony, the sunlight flowing in with the - spring-scented air. On the table was lying a little leather book, stamped - with gold,—her prayerbook. Well I remembered it! I opened it, to - read: “Dorothy, from her Mother. Annapolis, Christmas, 1768.” The sweet - vista of the past stretched before my eyes. I saw her, on such a, Mayday - as this, walking to St. Anne's under the grand old trees, their budding - leaves casting a delicate tracery at her feet. I followed her up the aisle - until she disappeared in the high pew, and then I sat beside my - grandfather and thought of her, nor listened to a word of Mr. Allen's - sermon. Why had they ever taken her to London? - </p> - <p> - When she came in I sought her face anxiously. She was still pale; and I - thought, despite her smile, that a trace of sadness lingered in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “At last, sir, you have come,” she said severely. “Sit down and give an - account of yourself at once. You have been behaving very badly.” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy—” - </p> - <p> - “Pray don't 'Dorothy' me, sir. But explain where you have been for this - week past.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Dolly—” - </p> - <p> - “You pretend to have some affection for your old playmate, but you do not - trouble yourself to come to see her.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, you do me wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you wrong! You prefer to gallivant about town with Comyn and Charles - Fox, and with all those wild gentlemen who go to Brooks's. Nay, I have - heard of your goings-on. I shall write to Mr. Carvel to-day, and advise - him to send for you. And tell him that you won a thousand pounds in one - night—” - </p> - <p> - “It was only seven hundred,” I interrupted sheepishly. I thought she - smiled faintly. - </p> - <p> - And will probably lose twenty thousand before you have done. And I shall - say to him that you have dared to make bold rebel speeches to a Lord of - the Admiralty and to some of the King's supporters. I shall tell your - grandfather you are disgracing him.” - </p> - <p> - “Rebel speeches!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, rebel speeches at Almack's. Who ever heard of such a thing! No doubt - I shall hear next of your going to a drawing-room and instructing his - Majesty how to subdue the colonies. And then, sir, you will be sent to the - Tower, and I shan't move a finger to get you out.” - </p> - <p> - “Who told you of this, Dolly?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,—or so bad,—that - he took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let - you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue. I - replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr. - Franklin.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I saw Fox lead you off,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you did, did you!” she retorted. “But you never once came near me - yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there a - full three hours.” - </p> - <p> - “How could I!” I exclaimed. “You were surrounded by prime ministers and - ambassadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people.” - </p> - <p> - “When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay,” I answered, despairing, “I can never explain anything to you, - Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Why didn't you go home with your captain?” she asked mockingly. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know why I stayed?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures - of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can - think of no other season.” - </p> - <p> - “There is another,” I said desperately. - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in - the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my - very temples throbbing. - </p> - <p> - “We have no such springs at home,” she said. “But oh, I wish I were at - Wilmot House to-day!” - </p> - <p> - “There is another reason,” I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like - that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly. The - southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the curtains - at our backs. - </p> - <p> - “You have a conscience, Richard,” she said gently, without turning. “So - few of us have.” - </p> - <p> - I was surprised. Nor did I know what to make of that there were so many - meanings. - </p> - <p> - “You are wild,” she continued, “and impulsive, as they say your father - was. But he was a man I should have honoured. He stood firm beside his - friends. He made his enemies fear him. All strong men must have enemies, I - suppose. They must make them.” - </p> - <p> - I looked at her, troubled, puzzled, but burning at her praise of Captain - Jack. - </p> - <p> - “Dolly,” I cried, “you are not well. Why won't you come back to Maryland?” - </p> - <p> - She did not reply to that. Then she faced me suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I know now why you insisted upon going back. It was because you - would not desert your sea-captain. Comyn and Mr. Fox have told me, and - they admire you for it as much as I.” - </p> - <p> - What language is worthy to describe her as she was then in that pose, with - her head high, as she was wont to ride over the field after the hounds. - Hers was in truth no beauty of stone, but the beauty of force,—of - life itself. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy,” I cried; “Dorothy, I stayed because I love you. There, I have - said it again, what has not passed my lips since we were children. What - has been in my heart ever since.” - </p> - <p> - I stopped, awed. For she had stepped back, out on the balcony. She hid her - head in her hands, and I saw her breast shaken as with sobs. I waited what - seemed a day,—a year. Then she raised her face and looked at me - through the tears shining in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” she said sadly, “why, why did you ever tell me? Why can we not - always be playmates?” - </p> - <p> - The words I tried to say choked me. I could not speak for sorrow, for very - bitterness. And yet I might have known! I dared not look at her again. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Richard,” I heard her say, “God alone understands how it hurts me to - give you pain. Had I only foreseen—” - </p> - <p> - “Had you only foreseen,” I said quickly. - </p> - <p> - “I should never have let you speak.” - </p> - <p> - Her words came steadily, but painfully. And when I raised my eyes she met - them bravely. - </p> - <p> - “You must have seen,” I cried. “These years I have loved you, nor could I - have hidden it if I had wished. But I have little—to offer you,” I - went on cruelly, for I knew not what I said; “you who may have English - lands and titles for the consenting. I was a fool.” - </p> - <p> - Her tears started again. And at sight of them I was seized with such - remorse that I could have bitten my tongue in two. - </p> - <p> - “Forgive me, Dorothy, if you can,” I implored. “I did not mean it. Nor did - I presume to think you loved me. I have adored,—I shall be content - to adore from far below. And I stayed,—I stayed that I might save - you if a danger threatened.” - </p> - <p> - “Danger!” she exclaimed, catching her breath. - </p> - <p> - “I will come to the point,” I said. “I stayed to save you from the Duke of - Chartersea.” - </p> - <p> - She grasped the balcony rail, and I think would have fallen but for my - arm. Then she straightened, and only the quiver of her lip marked the - effort. - </p> - <p> - “To save me from the Duke of Chartersea?” she said, so coldly that my - conviction was shaken. “Explain yourself, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot love him!” I cried, amazed. - </p> - <p> - She flashed upon me a glance I shall never forget. - </p> - <p> - “Richard Carvel,” she said, “you have gone too far. Though you have been - my friend all my life, there are some things which even you cannot say to - me.” - </p> - <p> - And she left me abruptly and went into the house, her head flung back. And - I followed in a tumult of mortification and wounded pride, in such a state - of dejection that I wished I had never been born. But hers was a nature of - surprises, and impulsive, like my own. Beside the cabinet she turned, calm - again, all trace of anger vanished from her face. Drawing a hawthorn sprig - from a porcelain vase I had given her, she put it in my hand. - </p> - <p> - “Let us forget this, Richard,” said she; “we have both been very foolish.” - </p> - <p> - Forget, indeed! Unless Heaven had robbed me of reason, had torn the past - from me at a single stroke. I could not have forgotten. When I reached my - lodgings I sent the anxious Banks about his business and threw myself in a - great chair before the window, the chair she had chosen. Strange to say, I - had no sensation save numbness. The time must have been about two of the - clock: I took no account of it. I recall Banks coming timidly back with - the news that two gentlemen had called. I bade him send them away. Would - my honour not have Mrs. Marble cook my dinner, and be dressed for Lady - Pembroke's ball? I sent him off again, harshly. - </p> - <p> - After a long while the slamming of a coach door roused me, and I was - straightway seized with such an agony of mind that I could have cried - aloud. 'Twas like the pain of blood flowing back into a frozen limb. - Darkness was fast gathering as I reached the street and began to walk - madly. Word by word I rehearsed the scene in the drawing-room over the - Park, but I could not think calmly, for the pain of it. Little by little I - probed, writhing, until far back in my boyhood I was tearing at the dead - roots of that cherished plant, which was the Hope of Her Love. It had - grown with my own life, and now with its death to-day I felt that I had - lost all that was dear to me. Then, in the midst of this abject self-pity, - I was stricken with shame. I thought of Comyn, who had borne the same - misfortune as a man should. Had his pain been the less because he had not - loved her from childhood? Like Comyn, I resolved to labour for her - happiness. - </p> - <p> - What hour of the night it was I know not when a man touched me on the - shoulder, and I came to myself with a start. I was in a narrow street - lined by hideous houses, their windows glaring with light. Each seemed a - skull, with rays darting from its grinning eye-holes. Within I caught - glimpses of debauchery that turned me sick. Ten paces away three women and - a man were brawling, the low angry tones of his voice mingling with the - screeches of their Billingsgate. Muffled figures were passing and - repassing unconcernedly, some entering the houses, others coming out, and - a handsome coach, without arms and with a footman in plain livery, - lumbered along and stopped farther on. All this I remarked before I took - notice of him who had intercepted me, and demanded what he wanted. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, Bill!” he cried with an oath to a man who stood on the steps - opposite; “'ere's a soft un as has put 'is gill in.” - </p> - <p> - The man responded, and behind him came two more of the same feather, and - suddenly I found myself surrounded by an ill-smelling crowd of flashy men - and tawdry women. They jostled me, and I reached for my sword, to make the - discovery that I had forgotten it. Regaining my full senses, I struck the - man nearest me a blow that sent him sprawling in the dirt. A blade gleamed - under the sickly light of the fish-oil lamp overhead, but a man crashed - through from behind and caught the ruffian's sword-arm and flung him back - in the kennel. - </p> - <p> - “The watch!” he cried, “the watch!” - </p> - <p> - They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me standing - alone with him. The affair had come and gone so quickly that I scarce - caught my breath. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon, sir,” he said, knuckling, “but I followed you.” - </p> - <p> - It was Banks. For a second time he had given me an affecting example of - his faithfulness. I forgot that he was my servant, and I caught his hand - and pressed it. - </p> - <p> - “You have saved my life at the risk of your own,” I said; “I shall not - forget it.” - </p> - <p> - But Banks had been too well trained to lose sight of his position. He - merely tipped his hat again and said imperturbably: - </p> - <p> - “Best get out of here, your honour. They'll be coming again directly.” - </p> - <p> - “Where are we?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Drury Lane, sir,” he replied, giving me just the corner of a glance; - “shall I fetch a coach, sir?” No, I preferred to walk. Before we had - turned into Long Acre I had seen all of this Sodom of London that it - should be given a man to see, if indeed we must behold some of the - bestiality of this world. Here alone, in the great city, high and low were - met equal. Sin levels rank. The devil makes no choice between my lord and - his kitchen wench who has gone astray. Here, in Sodom, painted vice had - lain for an hundred years and bred half the crime of a century. How many - souls had gone hence in that time to meet their Maker! Some of these - brazen creatures who leered at me had known how long ago!—a peaceful - home and a mother's love; had been lured in their innocence to this place - of horrors, never to leave it until death mercifully overtakes them. - Others, having fallen, had been driven hither by a cruel world that - shelters all save the helpless, that forgives all save the truly penitent. - I shuddered as I thought of Mr. Hogarth's prints, which, in the library in - Marlboro' Street at home, had had so little meaning for me. Verily he had - painted no worse than the reality. As I strode homeward, my own sorrow - subdued by the greater sorrow I had looked upon, the craving I had had to - be alone was gone, and I would have locked arms with a turnspit. I called - to Banks, who was behind at a respectful distance, and bade him come talk - to me. His presence of mind in calling on the watch had made even a - greater impression upon me than his bravery. I told him that he should - have ten pounds, and an increase of wages. And I asked him where I had - gone after leaving Dover Street, and why he had followed me. He answered - this latter question first. He had seen gentlemen in the same state, or - something like it, before: his Lordship, his late master, after he had - fought with Mr. Onslow, of the Guards, and Sir Edward Minturn, when he had - lost an inheritance and a reversion at Brooks's, and was forced to give - over his engagement to marry the Honourable Miss Swift. “Lord, sir,” he - said, “but that was a sad case, as set all London agog. And Sir Edward - shot hisself at Portsmouth not a se'nnight after.” - </p> - <p> - And he relapsed into silence, no doubt longing to ask the cause of my own - affliction. Presently he surprised me by saying: - </p> - <p> - “And I might make so bold, Mr. Carvel, I would like to tell your honour - something.” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. And he hawed awhile and then burst out: - </p> - <p> - “Your honour must know then that I belongs to the footman's club in - Berkeley Square, where I meets all the servants o' quality—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I said, wondering what footman's tale he had to tell. - </p> - <p> - “And Whipple, he's a hintimate o' mine, sir.” He stopped again. - </p> - <p> - “And who may Whipple be?” - </p> - <p> - “With submission, sir. Whipple's his Grace o' Chartersea's man—and, - you'll forgive me, sir—Whipple owns his Grace is prodigious ugly, - an' killed young Mr. Atwater unfair, some think. Whipple says he would - give notice had he not promised the old duke—” - </p> - <p> - “Drat Whipple!” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir. To be sure, sir. His Grace was in a bloody rage when he found - hisself in a fruit bin at Covent Carding. An' two redbreasts had carried - him to the round house, sir, afore they discovered his title. An' since - his Grace ha' said time an' time afore Whipple, that he'll ha' Mr. - Carvel's heart for that, and has called you most disgustin' bad names, - sir. An' Whipple he says to me: 'Banks, drop your marster a word, an' you - get the chance. His Grace'll speak him fair to's face, but let him look - behind him.'” - </p> - <p> - “I thank you again, Banks. I shall bear in mind your devotion,” I replied. - “But I had nothing to do with sending the duke to Covent Garden.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir, so I tells Whipple.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray, how did you know?” I demanded curiously. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, sir! All the servants at Almack's is friends o' mine,” says he. - “But Whipple declares his Grace will be sworn you did it, sir, tho' the - Lord Mayor hisself made deposition 'twas not.” - </p> - <p> - “Then mark me, Banks, you are not to talk of this.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Lord, no, your honour,” he said, as he fell back. But I was not so - sure of his discretion as of his loyalty. - </p> - <p> - And so I was led to perceive that I was not to be the only aggressor in - the struggle that was to come. That his Grace did me the honour to look - upon me as an obstacle. And that he intended to seize the first - opportunity to make way with me, by fair means or foul. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 6. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV. HIS GRACE MAKES ADVANCES - </h2> - <p> - The next morning I began casting about as to what I should do next. There - was no longer any chance of getting at the secret from Dorothy, if secret - there were. Whilst I am ruminating comes a great battling at the street - door, and Jack Comyn blew in like a gust of wind, rating me soundly for - being a lout and a blockhead. - </p> - <p> - “Zooks!” he cried, “I danced the soles off my shoes trying to get in here - yesterday, and I hear you were moping all the time, and paid me no more - attention than I had been a dog scratching at the door. What! and have you - fallen out with my lady?” - </p> - <p> - I confessed the whole matter to him. He was not to be resisted. He called - to Banks for a cogue of Nantsey, and swore amazingly at what he was - pleased to term the inscrutability of woman, offering up consolation by - the wholesale. The incident, he said, but strengthened his conviction that - Mr. Manners had appealed to Dorothy to save him. “And then,” added his - Lordship, facing me with absolute fierceness, “and then, Richard, why the - devil did she weep? There were no tears when I made my avowal. I tell you, - man, that the whole thing points but the one way. She loves you. I swear - it by the rood.” - </p> - <p> - I could not help laughing, and he stood looking at me with such a - whimsical expression that I rose and flung my arms around him. - </p> - <p> - “Jack, Jack!” I cried, “what a fraud you are! Do you remember the argument - you used when you had got me out of the sponging-house? Quoting you, all I - had to do was to put Dorothy to the proof, and she would toss Mr. - Marmaduke and his honour broadcast. Now I have confessed myself, and what - is the result? Nay, your theory is gone up in vapour.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why,” cried his Lordship, hotly, “why before refusing me did she - demand to know whether you had been in love with Patty Swain? 'Sdeath! you - put me in mind of a woman upon stilts—a man has always to be walking - alongside her with encouragement handy. And when a proud creature such as - our young lady breaks down as she hath done, 'tis clear as skylight there - is something wrong. And as for Mr. Manners, Hare overheard a part of a - pow-wow 'twixt him and the duke at the Bedford Arms,—and Chartersea - has all but owned in some of his drunken fits that our little fop is in - his power.” - </p> - <p> - “Then she is in love with some one else,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you she is not,” said Comyn, still more emphatically; “and you can - write that down in red in your table book. Gossip has never been able to - connect her name with that of any man save yours, when she went for you in - Castle Yard. And, gemini, gossip is like water, and will get in if a crack - shows. When the Marquis of Wells was going to Arlington Street once every - day, she sent him about his business in a fortnight.” - </p> - <p> - Despite Comyn's most unselfish optimism, I could see no light. And in the - recklessness that so often besets youngsters of my temper, on like - occasions, I went off to Newmarket next day with Mr. Fox and Lord Ossory, - in his Lordship's travelling-chaise and four. I spent a very gay week - trying to forget Miss Dolly. I was the loser by some three hundred pounds, - in addition to what I expended and loaned to Mr. Fox. This young gentleman - was then beginning to accumulate at Newmarket a most execrable stud. He - lost prodigiously, but seemed in no wise disturbed thereby. I have never - known a man who took his ill-luck with such a stoical nonchalance. Not so - while the heat was on. As I write, a most ridiculous recollection rises of - Charles dragging his Lordship and me and all who were with him to that - part of the course where the race was highest, where he would act like a - madman; blowing and perspiring, and whipping and swearing all at a time, - and rising up and down as if the horse was throwing him. - </p> - <p> - At Newmarket I had the good—or ill-fortune to meet that incorrigible - rake and profligate, my Lord of March and Ruglen. For him the goddess of - Chance had smiled, and he was in the most complaisant humour. I was - presented to his Grace, the Duke of Grafton, whose name I had no reason to - love, and invited to Wakefield Lodge. We went instead, Mr. Fox and I, to - Ampthill, Lord Ossory's seat, with a merry troop. And then we had more - racing; and whist and quinze and pharaoh and hazard, until I was obliged - to write another draft upon Mr. Dix to settle the wails: and picquet in - the travelling-chaise all the way to London. Dining at Brooks's, we - encountered Fitzpatrick and Comyn and my Lord Carlisle. - </p> - <p> - “Now how much has Charles borrowed of you, Mr. Carvel?” demanded - Fitzpatrick, as we took our seats. - </p> - <p> - “I'll lay ten guineas that Charles has him mortgaged this day month, - though he owns as much land as William Penn, and is as rich as Fordyce.” - </p> - <p> - Comyn demanded where the devil I had been, though he knew perfectly. He - was uncommonly silent during dinner, and then asked me if I had heard the - news. I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the quiet - amusement of the company, and led me aside. - </p> - <p> - “Curse you, Richard,” says be; “you have put me in such a temper that I - vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting - to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill.” - </p> - <p> - “Ill!” I said, catching my breath. - </p> - <p> - “Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say. She was missed at Lady - Pembroke's that Friday you had the scene with her, and at Lady Ailesbury's - on Saturday. On Monday morning, when I come to you for tidings, you are - off watching Charles make an ass of himself at Newmarket.” - </p> - <p> - “And how is she now, Comyn?” I asked, catching him by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “You may go yourself and see, and be cursed, Richard Carvel. She is in - trouble, and you are pleasure-seeking in the country. Damme! you deserve - richly to lose her.” - </p> - <p> - Calling for my greatcoat, and paying no heed to the jeers of the company - for leaving before the toasts and the play, I fairly ran to Arlington - Street. I was in a passion of remorse. Comyn had been but just. Granting, - indeed, that she had refused to marry me, was that any reason why I should - desert my life-long friend and playmate? A hundred little tokens of her - affection for me rose to mind, and last of all that rescue from Castle - Yard in the face of all Mayfair. And in that hour of darkness the - conviction that something was wrong came back upon me with redoubled - force. Her lack of colour, her feverish actions, and the growing - slightness of her figure, all gave me a pang, as I connected them with - that scene on the balcony over the Park. - </p> - <p> - The house was darkened, and a coach was in front of it. - </p> - <p> - “Yessir,” said the footman, “Miss Manners has been quite ill. She is now - some better, and Dr. James is with her. Mrs. Manners begs company will - excuse her.” - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Marmaduke? The man said, with as near a grin as he ever got, that - the marster was gone to Mrs. Cornelys's assembly. As I turned away, sick - at heart, the physician, in his tie-wig and scarlet cloak, came out, and I - stopped him. He was a testy man, and struck the stone an impatient blow - with his staff. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's life, sir. I am besieged day and night by you young gentlemen. I - begin to think of sending a daily card to Almack's.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I am an old friend of Miss Manners,” I replied, “having grown up - with her in Maryland—” - </p> - <p> - “Are you Mr. Carvel?” he demanded abruptly, taking his hat from his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I answered, surprised. In the gleam of the portico lanthorn he - scrutinized me for several seconds. - </p> - <p> - “There are some troubles of the mind which are beyond the power of physic - to remedy, Mr. Carvel,” said he. “She has mentioned your name, sir, and - you are to judge of my meaning. Your most obedient, sir. Good night, sir.” - </p> - <p> - And he got into his coach, leaving me standing where I was, bewildered. - </p> - <p> - That same fear of being alone, which has driven many a man to his cups, - sent me back to Brooks's for company. I found Fox and Comyn seated at a - table in the corner of the drawing-room, for once not playing, but talking - earnestly. Their expressions when they saw me betrayed what my own face - must have been. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” cried Comyn, half rising; “is she—is she—” - </p> - <p> - “No, she is better,” I said. - </p> - <p> - He looked relieved. - </p> - <p> - “You must have frightened him badly, Jack,” said Fox. - </p> - <p> - I flung myself into a chair, and Fox proposed whist, something unusual for - him. Comyn called for cards, and was about to go in search of a fourth, - when we all three caught sight of the Duke of Chartersea in the door, - surveying the room with a cold leisure. His eye paused when in line with - us, and we were seized with astonishment to behold him making in our - direction. - </p> - <p> - “Squints!” exclaimed Mr. Fox, “now what the devil can the hound want?” - </p> - <p> - “To pull your nose for sending him to market,” my Lord suggested. - </p> - <p> - Fox laughed coolly. - </p> - <p> - “Lay you twenty he doesn't, Jack,” he said. - </p> - <p> - His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming to - force the fighting. The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round mahogany - table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for the Covent - Garden story was well known. Chartersea laid his hand on the back of our - fourth chair, greeted us with some ceremony, and said something which, - under the circumstances, was almost unheard of in that day: “If you stand - in need of one, gentlemen, I should deem it an honour.” - </p> - <p> - The situation had in it enough spice for all of us. We welcomed him with - alacrity. The cards were cut, and it fell to his Grace to deal, which he - did very prettily, despite his heavy hands. He drew Charles Fox, and they - won steadily. The conversation between deals was anywhere; on the virtue - of Morello cherries for the gout, to which his Grace was already subject; - on Mr. Fox's Ariel, and why he had not carried Sandwich's cup at - Newmarket; on the advisability of putting three-year-olds on the track; in - short, on a dozen small topics of the kind. At length, when Comyn and I - had lost some fifty pounds between us, Chartersea threw down the cards. - </p> - <p> - “My coach waits to-night, gentlemen,” said he, with some sort of an accent - that did not escape us. “It would give me the greatest pleasure and you - will sup with me in Hanover Square.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS - </h2> - <p> - His Grace's offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce have - expected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment. We - knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and on the - way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, and I - answered the pressure. Our coats and canes were taken by the duke's - lackeys when we arrived. We were shown over the house. Until now—so - his Grace informed us—it had not been changed since the time of the - fourth duke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of - the Hanoverian succession. The rooms were high-panelled and furnished in - the German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built. But some - were stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costly - marble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renown was - decorating the ceilings. His Grace appeared to be at some pains that the - significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; was - constantly appealing to Mr. Fox's taste on this or that feature. But those - fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunity to wink. - It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Chartersea meant to be - married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with a purpose. For me - he would have put himself out not an inch had he not understood that my - support came from those quarters. - </p> - <p> - He tempered off this exhibition by showing us a collection of pottery - famous in England, that had belonged to the fifth duke, his father. Every - piece of it, by the way, afterwards brought an enormous sum at auction. - Supper was served in a warm little room of oak. The game was from - Derresley Manor, the duke's Nottinghamshire seat, and the wine, so he told - us, was some of fifty bottles of rare Chinon he had inherited. Melted - rubies it was indeed, of the sort which had quickened the blood of many a - royal gathering at Blois and Amboise and Chenonceaux,—the distilled - peasant song of the Loire valley. In it many a careworn clown had tasted - the purer happiness of the lowly. Our restraint gave way under its - influence. His Grace lost for the moment his deformities, and Mr. Fox made - us laugh until our sides ached again. His Lordship told many a capital - yarn, and my own wit was afterwards said to be astonishing, though I can - recall none of it to support the affirmation. - </p> - <p> - Not a word or even a hint of Dorothy had been uttered, nor did Chartersea - so much as refer to his Covent Garden experience. At length, when some - half dozen of the wine was gone, and the big oak clock had struck two, the - talk lapsed. It was Charles Fox, of course, who threw the spark into the - powder box. - </p> - <p> - “We were speaking of hunting, Chartersea,” he said. “Did you ever know - George Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said his Grace, very innocent. - </p> - <p> - “No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat him - for reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit any - colt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then, with - the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging round the hall - gates. But the old squire had plenty of good hunters in the stables, and - haunches on the board, and a cellar that was like the widow's cruse of - oil, or barrel of meal—or whatever she had. All the old man had to - do to lose a guinea was to lay it on a card. He never nicked in his life, - so they say. Well, young George got after a rich tea-merchant's daughter - who had come into the country near by. 'Slife! she was a saucy jade, and - devilish pretty. Such a face! so Stavordale vowed, and such a neck! and - such eyes! so innocent, so ravishingly innocent. But she knew cursed well - George was after the bank deposit, and kept him galloping. And when he got - a view, halloa, egad! she was stole away again, and no scent. - </p> - <p> - “One morning George was out after the hounds with Stavordale, who told me - the story, and a lot of fellows who had come over from Newmarket. He was - upon Aftermath, the horse that Foley bought for five hundred pounds and - was a colt then. Of course he left the field out of sight behind. He made - for a gap in the park wall (faith! there was no lack of 'em), but the colt - refused, and over went George and plumped into a cart of winter apples - some farmer's sot was taking to Bury Saint Edmunds to market. The fall - knocked the sense out of George, for he hasn't much, and Stavordale thinks - he must have struck a stake as he went in. Anyway, the apples rolled over - on top of him, and the drunkard on the seat never woke up, i' faith. And - so they came to town. - </p> - <p> - “It so chanced, egad, that the devil sent Miss Tea Merchant to Bury to buy - apples. She amused herself at playing country gentlewoman while papa - worked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and ate three - (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, and George - with it. 'Pon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. And the lady - said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that since she had bought - him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gads life! she has - got him yet, which is a deal stranger.” - </p> - <p> - Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible. - But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to his Grace's - own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Fox stared - vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said something especially - daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, like boys who - have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. There was a - metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you.” - </p> - <p> - “Od's, and so he can!” cried Jack. “I'll take oath on that.” - </p> - <p> - “I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord,” says his Grace, very - off-hand, “that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twenty - minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “Done!” says Jack, before I could draw breath. - </p> - <p> - “I'll take your Grace for another hundred,” calmly added Mr. Fox. - </p> - <p> - “It seems to me, your Grace,” I cried, angry all at once, “it seems to me - that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am not a - jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to lose - money.” - </p> - <p> - Chartersea swung around my way. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, Mr. Carvel,” said he, very coolly, very politely; “yours is - the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be called - off.” - </p> - <p> - “Slife! I double it!” I said hotly, “provided the horse is alive, and will - stand up.” - </p> - <p> - “Devilish well put, Richard!” Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off his - restraint. - </p> - <p> - “I give you my word the horse is alive, sir,” he answered, with a mock - bow; “'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead.” - </p> - <p> - A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Fox who - spoke first. - </p> - <p> - “I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,”—he emphasized - the word forcibly,—“will not refuse to ride the horse for another - twenty minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay your - Grace another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with.” - </p> - <p> - Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for a longer - head. He grew livid as he perceived how neatly he had been snared in his - own trap. - </p> - <p> - “Done!” he cried loudly; “done, gentlemen. It only remains to hit upon - time and place for the contest. I go to York to-morrow, to be back this - day fortnight. And if you will do me the favour of arranging with - Baltimore for the horse, I shall be obliged. I believe he intends selling - it to Astley, the showman.” - </p> - <p> - “And are we to keep it?” asks Mr. Fox. - </p> - <p> - “I am dealing with men of honour,” says the duke, with a bow: “I need have - no better assurance that the horse will not be ridden in the interval.” - </p> - <p> - “'Od so!” said Comyn, when we were out; “very handsome of him. But I would - not say as much for his Grace.” - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Fox declared that the duke was no coward, but all other epithets - known might be called him. “A very diverting evening, Richard,” said he; - “let's to your apartments and have a bowl, and talk it over.” - </p> - <p> - And thither we went. - </p> - <p> - I did not sleep much that night, but 'twas of Dolly I thought rather than - of Chartersea. I was abroad early, and over to inquire in Arlington - Street, where I found she had passed a good night. And I sent Banks - a-hooting for some violets to send her, for I knew she loved that flower. - </p> - <p> - Between ten and eleven Mr. Fox and Comyn and I set out for Baltimore - House. When you go to London, my dears, you will find a vast difference in - the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury from what it was that May morning in 1770. - Great Russell Street was all a sweet fragrance of gardens, mingling with - the smell of the fields from the open country to the north. We drove past - red Montagu House with its stone facings and dome, like a French hotel, - and the cluster of buildings at its great gate. It had been then for over - a decade the British Museum. The ground behind it was a great resort for - Londoners of that day. Many a sad affair was fought there, but on that - morning we saw a merry party on their way to play prisoner's base. - </p> - <p> - Then we came to the gardens in front of Bedford House, which are now - Bloomsbury Square. For my part I preferred this latter mansion to the - French creation by its side, and admired its long and graceful lines. Its - windows commanded a sweep from Holborn on the south to Highgate on the - north. To the east of it, along Southampton Row, a few great houses had - gone up or were building; and at the far end of that was Baltimore house, - overlooking her Grace of Bedford's gardens. Beyond Lamb's Conduit Fields - stretched away to the countryside. - </p> - <p> - I own I had a lively curiosity to see that lordly ruler, the proprietor of - our province, whose birthday we celebrated after his Majesty's. Had I not - been in a great measure prepared, I should have had a revulsion indeed. - </p> - <p> - When he heard that Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn were below stairs he gave - orders to show them up to his bedroom, where he received us in a - night-gown embroidered with oranges. My Lord Baltimore, alas! was not much - to see. He did not make the figure a ruler should as he sat in his easy - chair, and whined and cursed his Swiss. He was scarce a year over forty, - and he had all but run his race. Dissipation and corrosion had set their - seal upon him, had stamped his yellow face with crows' feet and blotted it - with pimples. But then the glimpse of a fine gentleman just out of bed of - a morning, before he is made for the day, is unfair. - </p> - <p> - “Morning, Charles! Howdy, Jack!” said his Lordship, apathetically. “Glad - to know you, Mr. Carvel. Heard of your family. 'Slife! Wish there were - more like 'em in the province.” - </p> - <p> - This sentiment not sitting very well upon his Lordship, I bowed, and said - nothing. - </p> - <p> - “By the bye,” he continued, pouring out his chocolate into the dish, “I - sent a damned rake of a parson out there some years gone. Handsome devil, - too. Never seen his match with the women, egad. 'Od's fish—” he - leered. And then added with an oath and a nod and a vile remark: “Married - three times to my knowledge. Carried off dozen or so more. Some of 'em for - me. Many a good night I've had with him. Drank between us one evening at - Essex's gallon and half Champagne and Burgundy apiece. He got to know too - much, y' know,” he concluded, with a wicked wink. “Had to buy him up pack - him off.” - </p> - <p> - “His name, Fred?” said Comyn, with a smile at me. - </p> - <p> - “'Sdeath! That's it. Trouble to remember. Damned if I can think.” And he - repeated this remark over and over. - </p> - <p> - “Allen?” said Comyn. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Baltimore; “Allen. And egad I think he'll find hell a hotter - place than me. You know him, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I replied. I said no more. I make no reservations when I avow I was - never so disgusted in my life. But as I looked upon him, haggard and worn, - with retribution so neat at hand, I had no words to protest or condemn. - </p> - <p> - Baltimore gave a hollow mirthless laugh, stopped short, and looked at - Charles Fox. - </p> - <p> - “Curse you, Charles! I suppose you are after that little matter I owe you - for quinze.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn the little matter!” said Fox. “Come, get you perfumed and dressed, - and order up some of your Tokay while we wait. I have to go to St. - Stephens. Mr. Carvel has come to buy your horse Pollux. He has bet - Chartersea two hundred guineas he rides him for twenty minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “The devil he has!” cried his Lordship, jaded no longer. “Why, you must - know, Mr. Carvel, there was no groom in my stables who would sit him until - Foley made me a present of his man, Miller, who started to ride him to - Hyde Park. As he came out of Great Russell Street, by gads life! the horse - broke and ran out the Tottenham Court Road all the way to Hampstead. And - the fiend picked out a big stone water trough and tossed Miller against - it. Then they gathered up the fragments. Damme if I like to see suicide, - Mr. Carvel. If Chartersea wants to kill you, let him try it in the fields - behind Montagu House here.” - </p> - <p> - I told his Lordship that I had made the wager, and could not in honour - withdraw, though the horse had killed a dozen grooms. But already he - seemed to have lost interest. He gave a languid pull at the velvet tassel - on his bell-rope, ordered the wine; and, being informed that his anteroom - below was full of people, had them all dismissed with the message that he - was engaged upon important affairs. He told Mr. Fox he had heard of the - Jerusalem Chamber, and vowed he would have a like institution. He told me - he wished the colony of Maryland in hell; that he was worn out with the - quarrels of Governor Eden and his Assembly, and offered to lay a guinea - that the Governor's agent would get to him that day,—will-he, - nill-he. I did not think it worth while to argue with such a man. - </p> - <p> - My Lord took three-quarters of an hour to dress, and swore he had not - accomplished the feat so quickly in a year. He washed his hands and face - in a silver basin, and the scent of the soap filled the room. He rated his - Swiss for putting cinnamon upon his ruffles in place of attar of roses, - and attempted to regale us the while with some of his choicest adventures. - In more than one of these, by the way, his Grace of Chartersea figured. It - was Fox who brought him up. - </p> - <p> - “See here, Baltimore,” he said, “I'm not squeamish. But I'm cursed if I - like to hear a man who may die any time between bottles talk so.” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship took the rebuke with an oath, and presently hobbled down the - stairs of the great and silent house to the stable court, where two grooms - were in waiting with the horse. He was an animal of amazing power, about - sixteen hands, and dapple gray in colour. And it required no special - knowledge to see that he had a devil inside him. It gleamed wickedly out - of his eye. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's life, Richard!” cried Charles, “he has a Jew nose; by all the seven - tribes I bid you 'ware of him.” - </p> - <p> - “You have but to ride him with a gold bit, Richard,” said Comyn, “and he - is a kitten, I'll warrant.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment Pollux began to rear and kick, so that it took both the - 'ostlers to hold him. - </p> - <p> - “Show him a sovereign,” suggested Fox. “How do you feel, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - “I never feared a horse yet,” I said with perfect truth, “nor do I fear - this one, though I know he may kill me.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll lay you twenty pounds you have at least one bone broken, and ten - that you are killed,” Baltimore puts in querulously, from the doorway. - </p> - <p> - “I'll do this, my Lord,” I answered. “If I ride him, he is mine. If he - throws me, I give you twenty pounds for him.” - </p> - <p> - The gentlemen laughed, and Baltimore vowed he could sell the horse to - Astley for fifty; that Pollux was the son of Renown, of the Duke of - Kingston's stud, and much more. But Charles rallied him out by a reference - to the debt at quinze, and an appeal to his honour as a sportsman. And - swore he was discouraging one of the prettiest encounters that would take - place in England for many a long day. And so the horse was sent to the - stables of the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, and left there at my - order. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVI. A GLIMPSE OF MR. GARRICK - </h2> - <p> - Day after day I went to Arlington Street, each time to be turned away with - the same answer: that Miss Manners was a shade better, but still confined - to her bed. You will scarce believe me, my dears, when I say that Mr. - Marmaduke had gone at this crisis with his Grace to the York races. On the - fourth morning, I think, I saw Mrs. Manners. She was much worn with the - vigil she had kept, and received me with an apathy to frighten me. Her way - with me had hitherto always been one of kindness and warmth. In answer to - the dozen questions I showered upon her, she replied that Dorothy's malady - was in no wise dangerous, so Dr. James had said, and undoubtedly arose out - of the excitement of a London season. As I knew, Dorothy was of the kind - that must run and run until she dropped. She had no notion of the measure - of her own strength. Mrs. Manners hoped that, in a fortnight, she would be - recovered sufficiently to be removed to one of the baths. - </p> - <p> - “She wishes me to thank you for the flowers, Richard. She has them - constantly by her. And bids me tell you how sorry she is that she is - compelled to miss so much of your visit to England. Are you enjoying - London, Richard? I hear that you are well liked by the best of company.” - </p> - <p> - I left, prodigiously cast down, and went directly to Mr. Wedgwood's, to - choose the prettiest set of tea-cups and dishes I could find there. I - pitied Mrs. Manners from my heart, and made every allowance for her talk - with me, knowing the sorrow of her life. Here was yet another link in the - chain of the Chartersea evidence. And I made no doubt that Mr. Manner's - brutal desertion at such a time must be hard to bear. I continued my - visits of inquiry, nearly always meeting some person of consequence, or - the footman of such, come on the same errand as myself. And once I - encountered the young man she had championed against his Grace at Lady - Tankerville's. - </p> - <p> - Rather than face the array of anxieties that beset me, I plunged - recklessly into the gayeties—nay, the excesses—of Mr. Charles - Fox and his associates. I paid, in truth, a very high price for my - friendship with Mr. Fox. But, since it did not quite ruin me, I look back - upon it as cheaply bought. To know the man well, to be the subject of his - regard, was to feel an infatuation in common with the little band of - worshippers which had come with him from Eton. They remained faithful to - him all his days, nor adversity nor change of opinion could shake their - attachment. They knew his faults, deplored them, and paid for them. And - this was not beyond my comprehension, tho' many have wondered at it. Did - he ask me for five hundred pounds,—which he did,—I gave it - freely, and would gladly have given more, tho' I saw it all wasted in a - night when the dice rolled against him. For those honoured few of whom I - speak likewise knew his virtues, which were quite as large as the faults, - albeit so mingled with them that all might not distinguish. - </p> - <p> - I attended some of the routs and parties, to all of which, as a young - colonial gentleman of wealth and family, I was made welcome. I went to a - ball at Lord Stanley's, a mixture of French horns and clarionets and - coloured glass lanthorns and candles in gilt vases, and young ladies - pouring tea in white, and musicians in red, and draperies and flowers ad - libitum. There I met Mr. Walpole, looking on very critically. He was the - essence of friendliness, asked after my equerry, and said I had done well - to ship him to America. At the opera, with Lord Ossory and Mr. - Fitzpatrick, I talked through the round of the boxes, from Lady Pembroke's - on the right to Lady Hervey's on the left, where Dolly's illness and Lady - Harrington's snuffing gabble were the topics rather than Giardini's - fiddling. Mr. Storer took me to Foote's dressing-room at the Haymarket, - where we found the Duke of Cumberland lounging. I was presented, and - thought his Royal Highness had far less dignity than the monkey-comedian - we had come to see. - </p> - <p> - I must not forget the visit I made to Drury Lane Playhouse with my Lords - Carlisle and Grantham and Comyn. The great actor received me graciously in - such a company, you may be sure. He appeared much smaller off the boards - than on, and his actions and speech were quick and nervous. Gast, his - hairdresser, was making him up for the character of Richard III. - </p> - <p> - “'Ods!” said Mr. Garrick, “your Lordships come five minutes too late. - Goldsmith is but just gone hence, fresh from his tailor, Filby, of Water - Lane. The most gorgeous creature in London, gentlemen, I'll be sworn. He - is even now, so he would have me know, gone by invitation to my Lord - Denbigh's box, to ogle the ladies.” - </p> - <p> - “And have you seen your latest lampoon, Mr. Garrick?” asks Comyn, winking - at me. - </p> - <p> - Up leaps Mr. Garrick, so suddenly as to knock the paint-pot from Gast's - hand. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, your Lordship jests, surely!” he cried, his voice shaking. - </p> - <p> - “Jests!” says my Lord, very serious; “do I jest, Carlisle?” And turning to - Mr. Cross, the prompter, who stood by, “Fetch me the St. James's Evening - Post,” says he. - </p> - <p> - “'Ods my life!” continues poor Garrick, almost in tears; “I have loaned - Foote upwards of two thousand pounds. And last year, as your Lordship - remembers, took charge of his theatre when his leg was cut off. 'Pon my - soul, I cannot account for his ingratitude.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis not Foote,” says Carlisle, biting his lip; “I know Foote's mark.” - </p> - <p> - “Then Johnson,” says the actor, “because I would not let him have my fine - books in his dirty den to be kicked about the floor, but put my library at - his disposal—” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nor Johnson. Nor yet Macklin nor Murphy.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely not—” cries Mr. Garrick, turning white under the rouge. The - name remained unpronounced. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, Junius, in the Evening Post. He has fastened upon you at last,” - answers Comyn, taking the paper. - </p> - <p> - “'Sdeath! Garrick,” Carlisle puts in, very solemn, “what have you done to - offend the Terrible Unknown? Talebearing to his Majesty, I'll warrant! I - gave you credit for more discretion.” - </p> - <p> - At these words Mr. Garrick seized the chair for support, and swung heavily - into it. Whereat the young lords burst into such a tempest of laughter - that I could not refrain from joining them. As for Mr. Garrick, he was so - pleased to have escaped that he laughed too, though with a palpable - nervousness. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - [Note by the editor. It was not long after this that Mr. Garrick's - punishment came, and for the self-same offence.] -</pre> - <p> - “By the bye, Garrick,” Carlisle remarked slyly, when he had recovered, - “Mrs. Crewe was vastly taken with the last 'vers' you left on her - dressing-table.” - </p> - <p> - “Was she, now, my Lord?” said the great actor, delighted, but scarce over - his fright. “You must know that I have writ one to my Lady Carlisle, on - the occasion of her dropping her fan in Piccadilly.” Whereupon he - proceeded to recite it, and my Lord Carlisle, being something of a poet - himself, pronounced it excellent. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Garrick asked me many questions concerning American life and manners, - having a play in his repertory the scene of which was laid in New York. In - the midst of this we were interrupted by a dirty fellow who ran in, crying - excitedly: - </p> - <p> - “Sir, the Archbishop of York is getting drunk at the Bear, and swears - he'll be d—d if he'll act to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “The archbishop may go to the devil!” snapped Mr. Garrick. “I do not know - a greater rascal, except yourself.” - </p> - <p> - I was little short of thunderstruck. But presently Mr. Garrick added - complainingly: - </p> - <p> - “I paid a guinea for the archbishop, but the fellow got me three murderers - to-day and the best alderman I ever clapped eyes upon. So we are square.” - </p> - <p> - After the play we supped with him at his new house in Adelphi Terrace, - next Topham Beauclerk's. 'Twas handsomely built in the Italian style, and - newly furnished throughout, for Mr. Garrick travelled now with a coach and - six and four menservants, forsooth. And amongst other things he took pride - in showing us that night was a handsome snuffbox which the King of Denmark - had given him the year before, his Majesty's portrait set in jewels - thereon. - </p> - <p> - Presently the news of the trial of Lord Baltimore's horse began to be - noised about, and was followed by a deluge of wagers at Brooks's and - White's and elsewhere. Comyn and Fox, my chief supporters, laid large sums - upon me, despite all my persuasion. But the most unpleasant part of the - publicity was the rumour that the match was connected with the struggle - for Miss Manners's hand. I was pressed with invitations to go into the - country to ride this or that horse. His Grace the Duke of Grafton had a - mount he would have me try at Wakefield Lodge, and was far from pleasant - over my refusal of his invitation. I was besieged by young noblemen like - Lord Derby and Lord Foley, until I was heartily sick of notoriety, and - cursed the indiscretion of the person who let out the news, and my own - likewise. My Lord March, who did me the honour to lay one hundred pounds - upon my skill, insisted that I should make one of a party to the famous - amphitheatre near Lambeth. Mr. Astley, the showman, being informed of his - Lordship's intention, met us on Westminster Bridge dressed in his uniform - as sergeant major of the Royal Light Dragoons and mounted on a white - charger. He escorted us to one of the large boxes under the pent-house - reserved for the gentry. And when the show was over and the place cleared, - begged, that I would ride his Indian Chief. I refused; but March pressed - me, and Comyn declared he had staked his reputation upon my horsemanship. - Astley was a large man, about my build, and I donned a pair of his leather - breeches and boots, and put Indian Chief to his paces around the ring. I - found him no more restive, nor as much so, as Firefly. The gentlemen were - good enough to clap me roundly, and Astley vowed (no doubt because of the - noble patrons present) that he had never seen a better seat. - </p> - <p> - We all repaired afterwards for supper to Don Saltero's Coffee House and - Museum in Chelsea. And I remembered having heard my grandfather speak of - the place, and tell how he had seen Sir Richard Steele there, listening to - the Don scraping away at the “Merry Christ Church Bells” on his fiddle. - The Don was since dead, but King James's coronation sword and King Henry - VIII.'s coat of mail still hung on the walls. - </p> - <p> - The remembrance of that fortnight has ever been an appalling one. Mr. - Carvel had never attempted to teach me the value of money. My grandfather, - indeed, held but four things essential to the conduct of life; namely, to - fear God, love the King, pay your debts, and pursue your enemies. There - was no one in London to advise me, Comyn being but a wild lad like myself. - But my Lord Carlisle gave me a friendly warning: - </p> - <p> - “Have a care, Carvel,” said he, kindly, “or you will run your grandfather - through, and all your relations beside. I little realized the danger of it - when I first came up.” (He was not above two and twenty then.) “And now I - have a wife, am more crippled than I care to be, thanks to this devilish - high play. Will you dine with Lady Carlisle in St. James's Place next - Friday?” - </p> - <p> - My heart went out to this young nobleman. Handsome he was, as a picture. - And he knew better than most of your fine gentlemen how to put a check on - his inclinations. As a friend he had few equals, his purse being ever at - the command of those he loved. And his privations on Fox's account were - already greater than many knew. - </p> - <p> - I had a call, too, from Mr. Dix. I found him in my parlour one morning, - cringing and smiling, and, as usual, half an hour away from his point. - </p> - <p> - “I warrant you, Mr. Carvel,” says he, “there are few young gentlemen not - born among the elect that make the great friends you are blessed with.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been fortunate, Mr. Dix,” I replied dryly. - </p> - <p> - “Fortunate!” he cried; “good Lord, sir! I hear of you everywhere with Mr. - Fox, and you have been to Astley's with my Lord March. And I have a draft - from you at Ampthill.” - </p> - <p> - “Vastly well manoeuvred, Mr. Dix,” I said, laughing at the guilty change - in his pink complexion. “And hence you are here.” - </p> - <p> - He fidgeted, and seeing that I paid him no attention, but went on with my - chocolate, he drew a paper from his pocket and opened it. - </p> - <p> - “You have spent a prodigious sum, sir, for so short a time,” said he, - unsteadily. “'Tis very well for you, Mr. Carvel, but I have to remember - that you are heir only. I am advancing you money without advices from his - Worship, your grandfather. A most irregular proceeding, sir, and one - likely to lead me to trouble. I know not what your allowance may be.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor I, Mr. Dix,” I replied, unreasonably enough. “To speak truth, I have - never had one. You have my Lord Comyn's signature to protect you,” I went - on ill-naturedly, for I had not had enough sleep. “And in case Mr. Carvel - protests, which is unlikely and preposterous, you shall have ten percentum - on your money until I can pay you. That should be no poor investment.” - </p> - <p> - He apologized. But he smoothed out the paper on his knee. - </p> - <p> - “It is only right to tell you, Mr. Carvel, that you have spent one - thousand eight hundred and thirty-seven odd pounds, in home money, which - is worth more than your colonial. Your grandfather's balance with me was - something less than one thousand five hundred, as I made him a remittance - in December last. I have advanced the rest. And yesterday,” he went on, - resolutely for him, “yesterday I got an order for five hundred more.” - </p> - <p> - And he handed me the paper. I must own that the figures startled me. I - laid it down with a fine show of indifference. - </p> - <p> - “And so you wish me to stop drawing? Very good, Mr. Dix.” - </p> - <p> - He must have seen some threat implied, though I meant none. He was my very - humble servant at once, and declared he had called only to let me know - where I stood. Then he bowed himself out, wishing me luck with the horse - he had heard of, and I lighted my pipe with his accompt. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SERPENTINE - </h2> - <p> - Whether it was Mr. Dix. that started me reflecting, or my Lord Carlisle's - warning, or a few discreet words from young Lady Carlisle herself, I know - not. At all events, I made a resolution to stop high play, and confine - myself to whist and quinze and picquet. For I conceived a notion, enlarged - by Mr. Fox, that I had more than once fallen into the tender clutches of - the hounds. I was so reflecting the morning following Lord Carlisle's - dinner, when Banks announced a footman. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners's man, sir,” he added significantly, and handed me a little - note. I seized it, and, to hide my emotion, told him to give the man his - beer. - </p> - <p> - The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the - wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. - </p> - <p> - “So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into - Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never - Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir. One Matter I have - herd that I am Most Concerned about, & I pray you, my Dear Richard do - not allow y'r Recklessness & Contemt for Danger to betray you into a - Stil more Amazing Follie or I shall be very Miserable Indeed. I have Hopes - that the Report is at Best a Rumour & you must sit down & write me - that it is Sir that my Minde may be set at Rest. I fear for you Vastly - & I beg you not Riske y'r Life Foolishly & this for the Sake of - one who subscribes herself y'r Old Playmate & Well-Wisher Dolly. - </p> - <p> - “P.S. I have writ Sir Jon Fielding to put you in the Marshallsee or New - Gate until Mr. Carvel can be tolde. I am Better & hope soon to see you - agen & have been informed of y'r Dayly Visitts & y'r Flowers are - beside me. D. M.” - </p> - <p> - In about an hour and a half, Mr. Marmaduke's footman was on his way back - to Arlington Street in a condition not to be lightly spoken of. During - that period I had committed an hundred silly acts, and incidentally - learned the letter by heart. I was much distressed to think that she had - heard of the affair of the horse, and more so to surmise that the gossip - which clung to it must also have reached her. But I fear I thought most of - her anxiety concerning me, which reflection caused my hand to shake from - very happiness. “Y'r Flowers are beside me,” and, “I beg you not Riske y'r - Life Foolishly,” and “I shall be very Miserable Indeed” But then: “Y'r Old - Plamate & Well Wisher”! Nay, she was inscrutable as ever. - </p> - <p> - And my reply,—what was that to be? How I composed it in the state of - mind I was in, I have no conception to this day. The chimney was clogged - with papers ere (in a spelling to vie with Dolly's) I had set down my - devotion, my undying devotion, to her interests. I asked forgiveness for - my cruelty on that memorable morning I had last seen her. But even to - allude to the bet with Chartersea was beyond my powers; and as for - renouncing it, though for her sake,—that was not to be thought of. - The high play I readily promised to avoid in the future, and I signed - myself,—well, it matters not after seventy years. - </p> - <p> - The same day, Tuesday, I received a letter from his Grace of Chartersea - saying that he looked to reach London that night, but very late. He begged - that Mr. Fox and Lord Comyn and I would sup with him at the Star and - Garter at eleven, to fix matters for the trial on the morrow. Mr. Fox - could not go, but Comyn and I went to the inn, having first attended “The - Tempest” at Drury Lane with Lady Di and Mr. Beauclerk. - </p> - <p> - We found his Grace awaiting us in a private room, with Captain Lewis, of - the 60th Foot, who had figured as a second in the duel with young Atwater. - The captain was a rake and a bully and a toadeater, of course, with a loud - and profane tongue, and he had had a bottle too many in the duke's - travelling-coach. There was likewise a Sir John Brooke, a country - neighbour of his Grace in Nottinghamshire. Sir John apparently had no - business in such company. He was a hearty, fox-hunting squire who had seen - little of London; a three-bottle man who told a foul story and went asleep - immediately afterwards. Much to my disappointment, Mr. Manners had gone to - Arlington Street direct. I had longed for a chance to speak a little of my - mind to him. - </p> - <p> - This meeting, which I shall not take the time to recount, was near to - ending in an open breach of negotiations. His Grace had lost money at - York, and more to Lewis on the way to London. He was in one of his vicious - humours. He insisted that Hyde Park should be the place of the contest. In - vain did Comyn and I plead for some less public spot on account of the - disagreeable advertisement the matter had received. His Grace would be - damned before he would yield; and Lewis, adding a more forcible - contingency, hinted that our side feared a public trial. Comyn presently - shut him up. - </p> - <p> - “Do you ride the horse after his Grace is thrown,” says he, “and I agree - to get on after and he does not kill you. 'Sdeath! I am not of the army,” - adds my Lord, cuttingly; “I am a seaman, and not supposed to know a - stirrup from a snaffle.” - </p> - <p> - “'Od's blood!” yelled the captain, “you question my horsemanship, my Lord? - Do I understand your Lordship to question my courage?” - </p> - <p> - “After I am thrown!” cries his Grace, very ugly, and fingering the jewels - on his hilt. - </p> - <p> - Sir John was awakened by the noise, and turning heavily spilled the whole - of a pint of port on the duke's satin waist coat and breeches. Whereat - Chartersea in a rage flung the bottle at his head with a curse, which it - seems was a habit with his Grace. But the servants coming in, headed by my - old friend the chamberlain, they quieted down. And it was presently agreed - that the horse was to be at noon in the King's Old Road, or Rotten Row (as - it was then beginning to be called), in Hyde Park. - </p> - <p> - I shall carry to the grave the memory of the next day. I was up betimes, - and over to the White Horse Cellar to see Pollux groomed, where I found a - crowd about the opening into the stable court. “The young American!” - called some one, and to my astonishment and no small annoyance I was - greeted with a “Huzzay for you, sir!” “My groat's on your honour!” - </p> - <p> - This good-will was owing wholly to the duke's unpopularity with all - classes. Inside, sporting gentlemen in hunting-frocks of red and green, - and velvet visored caps, were shouldering favoured 'ostlers from the - different noblemen's stables; and there was a liberal sprinkling of the - characters who attended the cock mains in Drury Lane and at Newmarket. At - the moment of my arrival the head 'ostler was rubbing down the stallion's - flank. - </p> - <p> - “Here's ten pounds to ride him, Saunders!” called one of the - hunting-frocks. - </p> - <p> - “Umph!” sniffed the 'ostler; “ride 'im is it, yere honour? Two hunner - beast eno', an' a Portugal crown i' th' boot. Sooner take me chaunces o' - Tyburn on 'Ounslow 'Eath. An' Miller waurna able to sit 'im, 'tis no for - th' likes o' me to try. Th' bloody devil took th' shirt off Teddy's back - this morn. I adwises th' young Buckskin t' order 's coffin.” Just then he - perceived me, and touched his cap, something abashed. “With submission, - sir, y'r honour'll take an old man's adwise an' not go near 'im.” - </p> - <p> - Pollux's appearance, indeed, was not calculated to reassure me. He looked - ugly to exaggeration, his ears laid back and his nostrils as big as - crowns, and his teeth bared time and time. Now and anon an impatient fling - of his hoof would make the grooms start away from him. Since coming to the - inn he had been walked a couple of miles each day, with two men with - loaded whips to control him. I was being offered a deal of counsel, when - big Mr. Astley came in from Lambeth, and silenced them all. - </p> - <p> - “These grooms, Mr. Carvel,” he said to me, as we took a bottle in private - inside, “these grooms are the very devil for superstition. And once a - horse gets a bad name with them, good-by to him. Miller knew how to ride, - of course, but like many another of them, was too damned over-confident. I - warned him more than once for getting young horses into a fret, and I'm - willing to lay a ten-pound note that he angered Pollux. 'Od's life! He is - a vicious beast. So was his father, Culloden, before him. But here's luck - to you, sir!” says Mr. Astley, tipping his glass; “having seen you ride, - egad! I have put all the money I can afford in your favour.” - </p> - <p> - Before I left him he had given me several valuable hints as to the manner - of managing that kind of a horse: not to auger him with the spurs unless - it became plain that he meant to kill me; to try persuasion first and - force afterwards; and secondly, he taught me a little trick of twisting - the bit which I have since found very useful. - </p> - <p> - Leaving the White Horse, I was followed into Piccadilly by the crowd, - until I was forced to take refuge in a hackney chaise. The noise of the - affair had got around town, and I was heartily sorry I had not taken the - other and better method of trying conclusions with the duke, and slapped - his face. I found Jack Comyn in Dover Street, and presently Mr. Fox came - for us with his chestnuts in his chaise, Fitzpatrick with him. At Hyde - Park Corner there was quite a jam of coaches, chaises, and cabriolets and - beribboned phaetons, which made way for us, but kept us busy bowing as we - passed among them. It seemed as if everybody of consequence that I had met - in London was gathered there. One face I missed, and rejoiced that she was - absent, for I had a degraded feeling like that of being the favourite in a - cudgel-bout. And the thought that her name was connected with all this - made my face twitch. I heard the people clapping and saw them waving in - the carriages as we passed, and some stood forward before the rest in a - haphazard way, without rhyme or reason. Mr. Walpole with Lady Di - Beauclerk, and Mr. Storer and Mr. Price and Colonel St. John, and Lord and - Lady Carlisle and Lady Ossory. These I recognized. Inside, the railing - along the row was lined with people. And there stood Pollux, bridled, with - a blanket thrown over his great back and chest, surrounded still by the - hunting-frocks, who had followed him from the White Horse. Mixed in with - these, swearing, conjecturing, and betting, were some to surprise me, - whose names were connected with every track in England: the Duke of - Grafton and my Lords Sandwich and March and Bolingbroke, and Sir Charles - Bunbury, and young Lords Derby and Foley, who, after establishing separate - names for folly on the tracks, went into partnership. My Lord Baltimore - descended listlessly from his cabriolet to join the group. They all sang - out when they caught sight of our party, and greeted me with a zeal to - carry me off my feet. And my Lord Sandwich, having done me the honour to - lay something very handsome upon me, had his chief jockey on hand to give - me some final advice. I believe I was the coolest of any of them. And at - that time of all others the fact came up to me with irresistible humour - that I, a young colonial Whig, who had grown up to detest these people, - should be rubbing noses with them. - </p> - <p> - The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay - gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted. As a - most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was held, - he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March and - Sandwich. And it fell to me to champion these. After some discussion - between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire. His Lordship took - his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater from - his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,—the - terms, as he said, being private. - </p> - <p> - “Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I am, my Lord,” I answered. The bells were pealing noon. - </p> - <p> - “Then mount, sir,” said he. - </p> - <p> - The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long - forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake. My - breath began to come quickly. Through the sunny haze I saw the cows and - deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye - handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate. They took the - blanket off the stallion. Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he looked - brutal indeed. The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel livery, - held the stirrup, and whispered a husky “God keep you, sir!” Suddenly I - was up. The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a peaceful - farm in Devonshire. The grooms let go of the stallion's head. - </p> - <p> - He stood trembling like the throes of death. I gripped my knees as Captain - Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force impelled me to - look aside. From between the broad and hunching shoulders of Chartersea I - met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to freeze his prey. - Cattle—fish! The word kept running over my tongue. I thought of the - snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and were soon, perhaps, - to entangle Dorothy. She had begged me not to ride, and I was risking a - life which might save hers. - </p> - <p> - The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at - once. The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver - blur. The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell. Fainter and - fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, and - the leaps grew longer and longer. Then my head was cleared like a steamed - window-pane in a cold blast. I saw the road curve in front of me, I put - all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle was swept - into the busy Kensington Road. For the first time I knew what it was to - fear a horse. The stallion's neck was stretched, his shoes rang on the - cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between carriages coming - together. In a flash I understood why the duke had insisted upon Hyde - Park, and that nerved me some. I saw the frightened coachmen pulling their - horses this way and that, I heard the cries of the foot-passengers, and - then I was through, I know not how. Once more I summoned all my power, - recalled the twist Astley had spoken of, and tried it. I bent his neck for - an inch of rein. Next I got another inch, and then came a taste—the - smallest taste—of mastery like elixir. The motion changed with it, - became rougher, and the hoof-beats a fraction less frequent. He steered - like a ship with sail reduced. In and out we dodged among the wagons, and - I was beginning to think I had him, when suddenly, without a move of - warning, he came down rigid with his feet planted together, and only a - miracle and my tight grip restrained me from shooting over his head. There - he stood shaking and snorting, nor any persuasion would move him. I - resorted at last to the spurs. - </p> - <p> - He was up in the air in an instant, and came down across the road. Again I - dug in to the rowels, and clung the tighter, and this time he landed with - his head to London. A little knot of people had collected to watch me, and - out stepped a strapping fellow in the King's scarlet, from the Guard's - Horse near by. - </p> - <p> - “Hold him, sir!” he said, tipping. “Better dismount, sir. He means murder, - y'r honour.” - </p> - <p> - “Keep clear, curse you!” I cried, waving him off. “What time is it?” - </p> - <p> - He stepped back, no doubt thinking me mad. Some one spoke up and said it - was five minutes past noon. I had the grace to thank him, I believe. To my - astonishment I had been gone but four minutes; they had seemed twenty. - Looking about me, I found I was in the open space before old Kensington - Church, over against the archway there. Once more I dug in the spurs, this - time with success. Almost at a jump the beast took me into the angle of - posts to the east of the churchyard gate and tore up the footpath of - Church Lane, terrified men and women ahead of me taking to the kennel. He - ran irregularly, now on the side of the posts, now against the bricks, and - then I gave myself up. - </p> - <p> - Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr. Dulany - speak of. I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the - stallion's jaw and released his mouth altogether. Incredible as it may - seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing - his head like fury, and sweating at every pore. I leaned over and patted - him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the - dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and - into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church. Without - pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I - started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me. I - understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon - with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and a - light hand. - </p> - <p> - Before I gained the Life Guard's House I met a dozen horsemen, amongst - them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me, Colonel - St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I was not dead. - Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his losses to see me - safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed he would give a - dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered that he was - damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's chance of being - killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the King's New Road to - avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to Hyde Park Corner, and - in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there was enough cheering and - waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the most exacting of successful - generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and finding there was a minute yet - to run I went up the Row a distance and back again amidst more huzzaing, - Pollux prancing and quivering, and frothing his bit, but never once - attempting to break. - </p> - <p> - When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce breathe, - crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox vowed he had - never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things which the duke - must have overheard.... Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose for my buttonhole - by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my Lord March, desired - to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen of port upon me, which - he had set his best cassock against. My Lord Sandwich offered me snuff, - and invited me to Hichinbroke. Indeed, I should never be through were I to - continue. But I must not forget my old acquaintance Mr. Walpole, who - protested that he must get permission to present me to Princess Amelia: - that her Royal Highness would not rest content now, until she had seen me. - I did not then know her Highness's sporting propensity. - </p> - <p> - Then my Lord March called upon the duke, who stood in the midst of an army - of his toadeaters. I almost pitied him then, tho' I could not account for - the feeling. I think it was because a nobleman with so great a title - should be so cordially hated and despised. There were high words along the - railing among the duke's supporters, Captain Lewis, in his anger, going - above an inference that the stallion had been broken privately. Chartersea - came forward with an indifferent swagger, as if to say as much: and, in - truth, no one looked for more sport, and some were even turning away. He - had scarce put foot to the stirrup, when the surprise came. Two minutes - were up before he was got in the saddle, Pollux rearing and plunging and - dancing in a circle, the grooms shouting and dodging, and his Grace - cursing in a voice to wake the dead and Mr. Fox laughing, and making small - wagers that he would never be mounted. But at last the duke was up and - gripped, his face bloody red, giving vent to his fury with the spurs. - </p> - <p> - Then something happened, and so quickly that it cannot be writ fast - enough. Pollux bolted like a shot out of a sling, vaulted the railing as - easily as you or I would hop over a stick, and galloping across the lawn - and down the embankment flung his Grace into the Serpentine. Precisely, as - Mr. Fox afterwards remarked, as the swine with the evil spirits ran down - the slope into the sea. - </p> - <p> - An indescribable bedlam of confusion followed, lords and gentlemen, - tradesmen and grooms, hostlers and apprentices, all tumbling after, many - crying with laughter. My Lord Sandwich's jockey pulled his Grace from the - water in a most pitiable state of rage and humiliation. His side curls - gone, the powder and pomatum washed from his hair, bedraggled and muddy - and sputtering oaths, he made his way to Lord March, swearing by all - divine that a trick was put on him, that he would ride the stallion to - Land's End. His Lordship, pulling his face straight, gravely informed the - duke that the match was over. With this his Grace fell flatly sullen, was - pushed into a coach by Sir John and the captain, and drove rapidly off - Kensington way, to avoid the people at the corner. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN WHICH I AM ROUNDLY BROUGHT TO TASK - </h2> - <p> - I would have gone to Arlington Street direct, but my friends had no notion - of letting me escape. They carried me off to Brooks's Club, where a bowl - of punch was brewed directly, and my health was drunk to three times - three. Mr. Storer commanded a turtle dinner in my honour. We were not - many, fortunately,—only Mr. Fox's little coterie. And it was none - other than Mr. Fox who made the speech of the evening. “May I be strung as - high as Haman,” said he, amid a tempest of laughter, “if ever I saw half - so edifying a sight as his Grace pitching into the Serpentine, unless it - were his Grace dragged out again. Mr. Carvel's advent has been a Godsend - to us narrow ignoramuses of this island, gentlemen. To the Englishmen of - our colonies, sirs, and that we may never underrate or misunderstand them - more!” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Charles,” cried my Lord Comyn. “Where is our gallantry? I give you - first the Englishwomen of our colonies, and in particular the pride of - Maryland, who has brought back to the old country all the graces of the - new,—Miss Manners.” - </p> - <p> - His voice was drowned by a deafening shout, and we charged our glasses to - drain them brimming. And then we all went to Drury Lane to see Mrs. Clive - romp through 'The Wonder' in the spirit of the “immortal Peg.” She spoke - an epilogue that Mr. Walpole had writ especial for her, and made some - witty and sarcastic remarks directed at the gentlemen in our stagebox. We - topped off a very full day by a supper at the Bedford Arms, where I must - draw the certain. - </p> - <p> - The next morning I was abed at an hour which the sobriety of old age makes - me blush abed think of. Banks had just concluded a discreet discourse upon - my accomplishment of the day before, and had left for my newspapers, when - he came running back with the information that Miss Manners would see my - honour that day. There was no note. Between us we made my toilet in a - jiffy, and presently I was walking in at the Manners's door in an amazing - hurry, and scarcely waited for a direction. But as I ran up the stairs, I - heard the tinkle of the spinet, and the notes of an old, familiar tune - fell upon my ears. The words rose in my head with the cadence. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song, - Love that is too hot and strong - Runneth soon to waste.” - </pre> - <p> - That simple air, already mellowed by an hundred years, had always been her - favourite. She used to sing it softly to herself as we roamed the woods - and fields of the Eastern Shore. Instinctively I paused at the - dressing-room door. Nay, my dears, you need not cry out, such was the - custom of the times. A dainty bower it was, filled with the perfume of - flowers, and rosy cupids disporting on the ceiling; and china and silver - and gold filigree strewn about, with my tea-cups on the table. The - sunlight fell like a halo round Dorothy's head, her hands strayed over the - keys, and her eyes were far away. She had not heard me. I remember her - dress,—a silk with blue cornflowers on a light ground, and the - flimsiest of lace caps resting on her hair. I thought her face paler; but - beyond that she did not show her illness. - </p> - <p> - She looked up, and perceived me, I thought, with a start. “So it is you!” - she said demurely enough; “you are come at last to give an account of - yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you better, Dorothy?” I asked earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Why should you think that I have been ill?” she replied, her fingers - going back to the spinet. “It is a mistake, sir. Dr. James has given me - near a gross of his infamous powders, and is now exploiting another cure. - I have been resting from the fatigues of London, while you have been - wearing yourself out.” - </p> - <p> - “Dr. James himself told me your condition was serious,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” said she; “the worse the disease, the more remarkable the - cure, the more sought after the physician. When will you get over your - provincial simplicity?” - </p> - <p> - I saw there was nothing to be got out of her while in this baffling - humour. I wondered what devil impelled a woman to write one way and talk - another. In her note to me she had confessed her illness. The words I had - formed to say to her were tied on my tongue. But on the whole I - congratulated myself. She knew how to step better than I, and there were - many awkward things between us of late best not spoken of. But she kept me - standing an unconscionable time without a word, which on the whole was - cruelty, while she played over some of Dibdin's ballads. - </p> - <p> - “Are you in a hurry, sir,” she asked at length, turning on me with a - smile, “are you in a hurry to join my Lord March or his Grace of Grafton? - And have you writ Captain Clapsaddle and your Whig friends at home of your - new intimacies, of Mr. Fox and my Lord Sandwich?” - </p> - <p> - I was dumb. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you must be wishing to get away,” she continued cruelly, picking up - the newspaper. “I had forgotten this notice. When I saw it this morning I - thought of you, and despaired of a glimpse of you to-day.” (Reading.) “At - the Three Hats, Islington, this day, the 10th of May, will be played a - grand match at that ancient and much renowned manly diversion called - Double Stick by a sect of chosen young men at that exercise from different - parts of the West Country, for two guineas given free; those who break the - most heads to bear away the prize. Before the above-mentioned diversion - begins, Mr. Sampson and his young German will display alternately on one, - two, and three horses, various surprising and curious feats of famous - horsemanship in like manner as at the Grand Jubilee at - Stratford-upon-Avon. Admittance one shilling each person.' Before you - leave, Mr. Richard,” she continued, with her eyes still on the sheet, “I - should like to talk over one or two little matters.” - </p> - <p> - “Dolly—!” - </p> - <p> - “Will you sit, sir?” - </p> - <p> - I sat down uneasily, expecting the worst. She disappointed me, as usual. - </p> - <p> - “What an unspeakable place must you keep in Dover Street! I cannot send - even a footman there but what he comes back reeling.” - </p> - <p> - I had to laugh at this. But there was no smile out of my lady. - </p> - <p> - “It took me near an hour and a half to answer your note,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “And 'twas a masterpiece!” exclaimed Dolly, with withering sarcasm; “oh, a - most amazing masterpiece, I'll be bound! His worship the French Ambassador - is a kitten at diplomacy beside you, sir. An hour and a half, did you say, - sir? Gemini, the Secretary of State and his whole corps could not have - composed the like in a day.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith!” I cried, with feeling enough; “and if that is diplomacy, I would - rather make leather breeches than be given an embassy.” - </p> - <p> - She fixed her eyes upon me so disconcertingly that mine fell. - </p> - <p> - “There was a time,” she said, with a change of tone, “there was a time - when a request of mine, and it were not granted outright, would have - received some attention. This is my first experience at being ignored.” - </p> - <p> - “I had made a wager,” said I, “and could not retract with honour.” - </p> - <p> - “So you had made a wager! Now we are to have some news at last. How stupid - of you, Richard, not to tell me before. I confess I wonder what these wits - find in your company. Here am I who have seen naught but dull women for a - fortnight, and you have failed to say anything amusing in a quarter of an - hour. Let us hear about the wager.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is little to tell,” I answered shortly, considerably piqued. “I bet - your friend, the Duke of Chartersea, some hundreds of pounds I could ride - Lord Baltimore's Pollux for twenty minutes, after which his Grace was to - get on and ride twenty more.” - </p> - <p> - “Where did you see the duke?” Dolly interrupted, without much show of - interest. - </p> - <p> - I explained how we had met him at Brooks's, and had gone to his house. - </p> - <p> - “You went to his house?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows a trifle; “and - Comyn and Mr. Fox? And pray, how did this pretty subject come up?” - </p> - <p> - I related, very badly, I fear, Fox's story of young Wrottlesey and the - tea-merchant's daughter. And what does my lady do but get up and turn her - back, arranging some pinks in the window. I could have sworn she was - laughing, had I not known better. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that was a reference to a little pleasantry Mr. Fox had put up on - him some time before. His Grace flared, but tried not to show it. He said - he had heard I could do something with a horse (I believe he made it up), - and Comyn gave oath that I could; and then he offered to bet Comyn that I - could not ride this Pollux, who had killed his groom. That made me angry, - and I told the duke I was no jockey to be put up to decide wagers, and - that he must make his offers to me.” - </p> - <p> - “La!” said Dolly, “you fell in head over heels.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by that?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” said she, biting her lip. “Come, you are as ponderous as Dr. - Johnson.” - </p> - <p> - “Then Mr. Fox proposed that his Grace should ride after me.” - </p> - <p> - Here Dolly laughed in her handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be bound,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Then the duke went to York,” I continued hurriedly; and when he came back - we met him at the Star and Garter. He insisted that the match should come - off in Hyde Park. I should have preferred the open roads north of Bedford - House.” - </p> - <p> - “Where there is no Serpentine,” she interrupted, with the faintest - suspicion of a twinkle about her eyes. “On, sir, on! You are as reluctant - as our pump at Wilmot House in the dry season. I see you were not killed, - as you richly deserved. Let us have the rest of your tale.” - </p> - <p> - “There is very little more to it, save that I contrived to master the - beast, and his Grace—” - </p> - <p> - “—Was disgraced. A vastly fine achievement, surely. But where are - you to stop? You will be shaming the King next by outwalking him. Pray, - how did the duke appear as he was going into the Serpentine?” - </p> - <p> - “You have heard?” I exclaimed, the trick she had played me dawning upon - me. - </p> - <p> - “Upon my word, Richard, you are more of a simpleton than I thought you. - Have you not seen your newspaper this morning?” - </p> - <p> - I explained how it was that I had not. She took up the Chronicle. - </p> - <p> - “'This Mr. Carvel has made no inconsiderable noise since his arrival in - town, and yesterday crowned his performances by defeating publicly a noble - duke at a riding match in Hyde Park, before half the quality of the - kingdom. His Lordship of March and Ruglen acted as umpire.' There, sir, - was I not right to beg Sir John Fielding to put you in safe keeping until - your grandfather can send for you?” - </p> - <p> - I made to seize the paper, but she held it from me. - </p> - <p> - “'If Mr. Carvel remains long enough in England, he bids fair to share the - talk of Mayfair with a certain honourable young gentleman of Brooks's and - the Admiralty, whose debts and doings now furnish most of the gossip for - the clubs and the card tables. Their names are both connected with this - contest. 'Tis whispered that the wager upon which the match was ridden - arose—'” here Dolly stopped shortly, her colour mounting, and cried - out with a stamp of her foot. “You are not content to bring publicity upon - yourself, who deserve it, but must needs drag innocent names into the - newspapers.” - </p> - <p> - “What have they said?” I demanded, ready to roll every printer in London - in the kennel. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, you may read for yourself,” said she. And, flinging the paper in my - lap, left the room. - </p> - <p> - They had not said much more, Heaven be praised. But I was angry and - mortified as I had never been before, realizing for the first time what a - botch I had made of my stay in London. In great dejection, I was picking - up my hat to leave the house, when Mrs. Manners came in upon me, and - insisted that I should stay for dinner. She was very white, and seemed - troubled and preoccupied, and said that Mr. Manners had come back from - York with a cold on his chest, but would insist upon joining the party to - Vauxhall on Monday. I asked her when she was going to the baths, and - suggested that the change would do her good. Indeed, she looked badly. - </p> - <p> - “We are not going, Richard,” she replied; “Dorothy will not hear of it. In - spite of the doctor she says she is not ill, and must attend at Vauxhall, - too. You are asked?” - </p> - <p> - I said that Mr. Storer had included me. I am sure, from the way she looked - at me, that she did not heed my answer. She appeared to hesitate on the - verge of a speech, and glanced once or twice at the doors. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I suppose you are old enough to take care of yourself, tho' you - seem still a child to me. I pray you will be careful, my boy,” she said, - with something of the affection she had always borne me, “for your - grandfather's sake, I pray you will run into no more danger. I—we - are your old friends, and the only ones here to advise you.” - </p> - <p> - She stopped, seemingly, to weigh the wisdom of what was to come next, - while I leaned forward with an eagerness I could not hide. Was she to - speak of the Duke of Chartersea? Alas, I was not to know. For at that - moment Dorothy came back to inquire why I was not gone to the cudgelling - at the Three Hats. I said I had been invited to stay to dinner. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I have writ a note asking Comyn,” said she. “Do you think the house - will hold you both?” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship came in as we were sitting down, bursting with some news, and - he could hardly wait to congratulate Dolly on her recovery before he - delivered it. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard,” says the dog, “what do you think some wag has done now? - They believe at Brooks's 'twas that jackanapes of a parson, Dr. Warner, - who was there yesterday with March.” He drew a clipping from his pocket. - “Listen, Miss Dolly: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “On Wednesday did a carter see - His Grace, the Duke of Ch-rt—s-a, - As plump and helpless as a bag, - A-straddle of a big-boned nag. - “Lord, Sam!” the carter loudly yelled, - On by this wondrous sight impelled, - “We'll run and watch this noble gander - Master a steed, like Alexander.” - But, when the carter reached the Row, - His Grace had left it, long ago. - Bucephalus had leaped the green, - The duke was in the Serpentine. - The fervent wish of all good men - That he may ne'er come out again!'” - </pre> - <p> - Comyn's impudence took my breath, tho' the experiment interested me not a - little. My lady was pleased to laugh at the doggerel, and even Mrs. - Manners. Its effect upon Mr. Marmaduke was not so spontaneous. His smile - was half-hearted. Indeed, the little gentleman seemed to have lost his - spirits, and said so little (for him), that I was encouraged to corner him - that very evening and force him to a confession. But I might have known he - was not to be caught. It appeared almost as if he guessed my purpose, for - as soon as ever the claret was come on, he excused himself, saying he was - promised to Lady Harrington, who wanted one. - </p> - <p> - Comyn and I departed early on account of Dorothy. She had denied a dozen - who had left cards upon her. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, Richard,” said my Lord, when we had got to my lodgings, “I made him - change colour, did I not? Do you know how the little fool looks to me? - 'Od's life, he looks hunted, and cursed near brought to earth. We must - fetch this thing to a point, Richard. And I am wondering what Chartersea's - next move will be,” he added thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIX. HOLLAND HOUSE - </h2> - <p> - On the morrow, as I was setting out to dine at Brooks's, I received the - following on a torn slip of paper: “Dear Richard, we shall have a good - show to-day you may care to see.” It was signed “Fox,” and dated at St. - Stephen's. I lost no time in riding to Westminster, where I found a flock - of excited people in Parliament Street and in the Palace Yard. And on - climbing the wide stone steps outside and a narrower flight within I was - admitted directly into the august presence of the representatives of the - English people. They were in a most prodigious and unseemly state of - uproar. - </p> - <p> - What a place is old St. Stephen's Chapel, over St. Mary's in the Vaults, - for the great Commons of England to gather! It is scarce larger or more - imposing than our own assembly room in the Stadt House in Annapolis. St. - Stephen's measures but ten yards by thirty, with a narrow gallery running - along each side for visitors. In one of these, by the rail, I sat down - suffocated, bewildered, and deafened. And my first impression out of the - confusion was of the bewigged speaker enthroned under the royal arms, sore - put to restore order. On the table in front of him lay the great mace of - the Restoration. Three chandeliers threw down their light upon the mob of - honourable members, and I wondered what had put them into this state of - uproar. - </p> - <p> - Presently, with the help of a kind stranger on my right, who was - occasionally making shorthand notes, I got a few bearings. That was the - Treasury Bench, where Lord North sat (he was wide awake, now). And there - was the Government side. He pointed out Barrington and Weymouth and Jerry - Dyson and Sandwich, and Rigby in the court suit of purple velvet with the - sword thrust through the pocket. I took them all in, as some of the worst - enemies my country had in Britain. Then my informant seemed to hesitate, - and made bold to ask my persuasion. When I told him I was a Whig, and an - American, he begged the favour of my hand. - </p> - <p> - “There, sir,” he cried excitedly, “that stout young gentleman with the - black face and eyebrows, and the blacker heart, I may say,—the one - dressed in the fantastical costume called by a French name,—is Mr. - Charles Fox. He has been sent by the devil himself, I believe, to ruin - this country. 'Ods, sir, that devil Lord Holland begot him. He is but one - and twenty, but his detestable arts have saved North's neck from Burke and - Wedderburn on two occasions this year.” - </p> - <p> - “And what has happened to-day?” I asked, smiling. - </p> - <p> - The stranger smiled, too. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” he answered, raising his voice above the noise; “if you have - been in London any length of time, you will have read the account, with - comment, of the Duke of Grafton's speech in the Lords, signed Domitian. - Their Lordships well know it should have been over a greater signature. - This afternoon his Grace of Manchester was talking in the Upper House - about the Spanish troubles, when Lord Gower arose and desired that the - place might be cleared of strangers, lest some Castilian spy might lurk - under the gallery. That was directed against us of the press, sir, and - their Lordships knew it. 'Ad's heart, sir, there was a riot, the house - servants tumbling everybody out, and Mr. Burke and Mr. Dunning in the - boot, who were gone there on the business of this house to present a bill. - Those gentlemen are but just back, calling upon the commons to revenge - them and vindicate their honour. And my Lord North looks troubled, as you - will mark, for the matter is like to go hard against his Majesty's - friends. But hush, Mr. Burke is to speak.” - </p> - <p> - The horse fell quiet to listen, and my friend began to ply his shorthand - industriously. I leaned forward with a sharp curiosity to see this great - friend of America. He was dressed in a well-worn suit of brown, and I - recall a decided Irish face, and a more decided Irish accent, which - presently I forgot under the spell of his eloquence. I have heard it said - he had many defects of delivery. He had none that day, or else I was too - little experienced to note them. Afire with indignation, he told how the - deputy black rod had hustled him like a vagabond or a thief, and he called - the House of Lords a bear garden. He was followed by Dunning, in a still - more inflammatory mood, until it seemed as if all the King's friends in - the Lower House must desert their confederates in the Upper. No less - important a retainer than Mr. Onslow moved a policy of retaliation, and - those that were left began to act like the Egyptians when they felt the - Red Sea under them. They nodded and whispered in their consternation. - </p> - <p> - It was then that Mr. Fox got calmly up before the pack of frightened - mercenaries and argued (God save the mark!) for moderation. He had the ear - of the house in a second, and he spoke with all the confidence—this - youngster who had just reached his majority—he had used with me - before his intimates. I gaped with astonishment and admiration. The Lords, - said he, had plainly meant no insult to this honourable house, nor yet to - the honourable members. They had aimed at the common enemies of man, the - printers. And for this their heat was more than pardonable. My friend at - my side stopped his writing to swear under his breath. “Look at 'em!” he - cried; “they are turning already. He could argue Swedenborg into popery!” - </p> - <p> - The deserters were coming back to the ranks, indeed, and North and Dyson - and Weymouth had ceased to look haggard, and were wreathed in smiles. In - vain did Mr. Burke harangue them in polished phrase. It was a language - North and Company did not understand, and cared not to learn. Their young - champion spoke the more worldly and cynical tongue of White's and - Brooks's, with its shorter sentences and absence of formality. And even as - the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose, Mr. Fox quoted history and - the classics, with plenty more that was not above the heads of the booted - and spurred country squires. And thus, for the third time, he earned the - gratitude of his gracious Majesty. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Richard,” said he, slipping his arm through mine as we came out - into Parliament Street, “I promised you some sport. Have you enjoyed it?” - </p> - <p> - I was forced to admit that I had. - </p> - <p> - “Let us to the 'Thatched House,' and have supper privately,” he suggested. - “I do not feel like a company to-night.” We walked on for some time in - silence. Presently he said: - </p> - <p> - “You must not leave us, Richard. You may go home to see your grandfather - die, and when you come back I will see about getting you a little borough - for what my father paid for mine. And you shall marry Dorothy, and - perchance return in ten years as governor of a principality. That is, - after we've ruined you at the club. How does that prospect sit?” - </p> - <p> - I wondered at the mood he was in, that made him choose me rather than the - adulation and applause he was sure to receive at Brooks's for the part he - had played that night. After we had satisfied our hunger,—for - neither of us had dined,—and poured out a bottle of claret, he - looked up at me quizzically. - </p> - <p> - “I have not heard you congratulate me,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Nor will you,” I replied, laughing. - </p> - <p> - “I like you the better for it, Richard. 'Twas a damned poor performance, - and that's truth.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought the performance remarkable,” I said honestly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but it was not,” he answered scornfully. “The moment that - dun-coloured Irishman gets up, the whole government pack begins to whine - and shiver. There are men I went to school with I fear more than Burke. - But you don't like to see the champion of America come off second best. Is - that what you're thinking?” - </p> - <p> - “No. But I was wondering why you have devoted your talents to the devil,” - I said, amazed at my boldness. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at me, and half laughed again. - </p> - <p> - “You are cursed frank,” said he; “damned frank.” - </p> - <p> - “But you invited it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he replied, “so I did. Give me a man who is honest. Fill up again,” - said he; “and spit out all you would like to say, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said I, “why do you waste your time and your breath in defending a - crew of political brigands and placemen, and a king who knows not the - meaning of the word gratitude, and who has no use for a man of ability? - You have honoured me with your friendship, Charles Fox, and I may take the - liberty to add that you seem to love power more than spoils. You have - originality. You are honest enough to think and act upon your own - impulses. And pardon me if I say you have very little chance on that side - of the house where you have put yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to have picked up a trifle since you came into England,” he - said. “A damned shrewd estimate, I'll be sworn. And for a colonial! But, - as for power,” he added a little doggedly, “I have it in plenty, and the - kind I like. The King and North hate and fear me already more than - Wilkes.” - </p> - <p> - “And with more cause,” I replied warmly. “His Majesty perhaps knows that - you understand him better, and foresees the time when a man of your - character will give him cause to fear indeed.” - </p> - <p> - He did not answer that, but called for a reckoning; and taking my arm - again, we walked out past the sleeping houses. - </p> - <p> - “Have you ever thought much of the men we have in the colonies?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he replied; “Chatham stands for 'em, and I hate Chatham on my - father's account. That is reason enough for me.” - </p> - <p> - “You should come back to America with me,” I said. “And when you had - rested awhile at Carvel Hall, I would ride with you through the length of - the provinces from Massachusetts to North Carolina. You will see little - besides hard-working, self-respecting Englishmen, loyal to a king who - deserves loyalty as little as Louis of France. But with their eyes open, - and despite the course he has taken. They are men whose measure of - resolution is not guessed at.” - </p> - <p> - He was silent again until we had got into Piccadilly and opposite his - lodgings. - </p> - <p> - “Are they all like you?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Who?” said I. For I had forgotten my words. - </p> - <p> - “The Americans.” - </p> - <p> - “The greater part feel as I do.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose you are for bed,” he remarked abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “The night is not yet begun,” I answered, repeating his favourite words, - and pointing at the glint of the sun on the windows. - </p> - <p> - “What do you say to a drive behind those chestnuts of mine, for a breath - of air? I have just got my new cabriolet Selwyn ordered in Paris.” - </p> - <p> - Soon we were rattling over the stones in Piccadilly, wrapped in - greatcoats, for the morning wind was cold. We saw the Earl of March and - Ruglen getting out of a chair before his house, opposite the Green Park, - and he stopped swearing at the chairmen to wave at us. - </p> - <p> - “Hello, March!” Mr. Fox said affably, “you're drunk.” - </p> - <p> - His Lordship smiled, bowed graciously if unsteadily to me, and did not - appear to resent the pleasantry. Then he sighed. - </p> - <p> - “What a pair of cubs it is,” said he; “I wish to God I was young again. I - hear you astonished the world again last night, Charles.” - </p> - <p> - We left him being assisted into his residence by a sleepy footman, paid - our toll at Hyde Park Corner, and rolled onward toward Kensington, Fox - laughing as we passed the empty park at the thought of what had so lately - occurred there. After the close night of St. Stephen's, nature seemed - doubly beautiful. The sun slanted over the water in the gardens in bars of - green and gold. The bright new leaves were on the trees, and the morning - dew had brought with it the smell of the living earth. We passed the - stream of market wagons lumbering along, pulled by sturdy, patient - farm-horses, driven by smocked countrymen, who touched their caps to the - fine gentlemen of the court end of town; who shook their heads and - exchanged deep tones over the whims of quality, unaccountable as the - weather. But one big-chested fellow arrested his salute, a scowl came over - his face, and he shouted back to the wagoner whose horses were munching - his hay: - </p> - <p> - “Hi, Jeems, keep down yere hands. Mr. Fox is noo friend of we.” - </p> - <p> - This brought a hard smile on Mr. Fox's face. - </p> - <p> - “I believe, Richard,” he said, “I have become more detested than any man - in Parliament.” - </p> - <p> - “And justly,” I replied; “for you have fought all that is good in you.” - </p> - <p> - “I was mobbed once, in Parliament Street. I thought they would kill me. - Have you ever been mobbed, Richard?” he asked indifferently. - </p> - <p> - “Never, I thank Heaven,” I answered fervently. - </p> - <p> - “I think I would rather be mobbed than indulge in any amusement I know - of,” he continued. “Than confound Wedderburn, or drive a measure against - Burke,—which is no bad sport, my word on't. I would rather be mobbed - than have my horse win at Newmarket. There is a keen pleasure you wot not - of, my lad, in listening to Billingsgate and Spitalfields howl - maledictions upon you. And no sensation I know of is equal to that of the - moment when the mud and sticks and oranges are coming through the windows - of your coach, when the dirty weavers are clutching at your ruffles and - shaking their filthy fists under your nose.” - </p> - <p> - “It is, at any rate, strictly an aristocratic pleasure,” I assented, - laughing. - </p> - <p> - So we came to Holland House. Its wide fields of sprouting corn, its woods - and pastures and orchards in blossom, were smiling that morning, as though - Leviathan, the town, were not rolling onward to swallow them. Lord Holland - had bought the place from the Warwicks, with all its associations and - memories. The capped towers and quaint facades and projecting windows were - plain to be seen from where we halted in the shaded park, and to the south - was that Kensington Road we had left, over which all the glory and royalty - of England at one time or another had rolled. Under these majestic oaks - and cedars Cromwell and Ireton had stood while the beaten Royalists lashed - their horses on to Brentford. Nor did I forget that the renowned Addison - had lived here after his unhappy marriage with Lady Warwick, and had often - ridden hence to Button's Coffee House in town, where my grandfather had - had his dinner with Dean Swift. - </p> - <p> - We sat gazing at the building, which was bathed in the early sun, at the - deer and sheep grazing in the park, at the changing colours of the young - leaves as the breeze swayed them. The market wagons had almost ceased now, - and there was little to break the stillness. - </p> - <p> - “You love the place?” I said. - </p> - <p> - He started, as though I had awakened him out of a sleep. And he was no - longer the Fox of the clubs, the cynical, the reckless. He was no longer - the best-dressed man in St. James's Street, or the aggressive youngster of - St. Stephen's. - </p> - <p> - “Love it!” he cried. “Ay, Richard, and few guess how well. You will not - laugh when I tell you that my happiest days have been passed here, when I - was but a chit, in the long room where Addison used to walk up and down - composing his Spectators: or trotting after my father through these woods - and gardens. A kinder parent does not breathe than he. Well I remember how - he tossed me in his arms under that tree when I had thrashed another lad - for speaking ill of him. He called me his knight. In all my life he has - never broken faith with me. When they were blasting down a wall where - those palings now stand, he promised me I should see it done, and had it - rebuilt and blown down again because I had missed the sight. All he ever - exacted of me was that I should treat him as an elder brother. He had his - own notion of the world I was going into, and prepared me accordingly. He - took me from Eton to Spa, where I learned gaming instead of Greek, and - gave me so much a night to risk at play.” - </p> - <p> - I looked at him in astonishment. To say that I thought these relations - strange would have been a waste of words. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure,” Charles continued, “I was bound to learn, and could acquire - no younger.” He flicked the glossy red backs of his horses with his whip. - “You are thinking it an extraordinary education, I know,” he added rather - sadly. “I hav a-told you this—God knows why! Yes, because I like you - damnably, and you would have heard worse elsewhere, both of him and of me. - I fear you have listened to the world's opinion of Lord Holland.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, I had heard a deal of that nobleman's peculations of the public - funds. But in this he was no worse than the bulk of his colleagues. His - desertion of William Pitt I found hard to forgive. - </p> - <p> - “The best father in the world, Richard!” cried Charles. “If his former - friends could but look into his kind heart, and see him in his home, they - would not have turned their backs upon him. I do not mean such scoundrels - as Rigby. And now my father is in exile half the year in Nice, and the - other half at King's Gate. The King and Jack Bute used him for a tool, and - then cast him out. You wonder why I am of the King's party?” said he, with - something sinister in his smile; “I will tell you. When I got my borough I - cared not a fig for parties or principles. I had only the one definite - ambition, to revenge Lord Holland. Nay,” he exclaimed, stopping my - protest, “I was not too young to know rottenness as well as another. The - times are rotten in England. You may have virtue in America, amongst a - people which is fresh from a struggle with the earth and its savages. We - have cursed little at home, in faith. The King, with his barley water and - rising at six, and shivering in chapel, and his middle-class table, is - rottener than the rest. The money he saves in his damned beggarly court - goes to buy men's souls. His word is good with none. For my part I prefer - a man who is drunk six days out of the seven to one who takes his pleasure - so. And I am not so great a fool that I cannot distinguish justice from - injustice. I know the wrongs of the colonies, which you yourself have put - as clear as I wish to hear, despite Mr. Burke and his eloquence. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - [My grandfather has made a note here, which in justice should be - added, that he was not deceived by Mr. Fox's partiality.—D. C. C.] -</pre> - <p> - And perhaps, Richard,” he concluded, with a last lingering look at the old - pile as he turned his horses, “perhaps some day, I shall remember what you - told us at Brooks's.” - </p> - <p> - It was thus, boyishly, that Mr. Fox chose to take me into his confidence, - an honour which I shall remember with a thrill to my dying day. So did he - reveal to me the impulses of his early life, hidden forever from his - detractors. How little does the censure of this world count, which cannot - see the heart behind the embroidered waistcoat! When Charles Fox began his - career he was a thoughtless lad, but steadfast to such principles as he - had formed for himself. They were not many, but, compared to those of the - arena which he entered, they were noble. He strove to serve his friends, - to lift the name of a father from whom he had received nothing but - kindness, however misguided. And when he saw at length the error of his - ways, what a mighty blow did he strike for the right! - </p> - <p> - “Here is a man,” said Dr. Johnson, many years afterwards, “who has divided - his kingdom with Caesar; so that it was a doubt whether the nation should - be ruled by the sceptre of George the Third or the tongue of Fox.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XL. VAUXHALL - </h2> - <p> - Matters had come to a pretty pickle indeed. I was openly warned at - Brooks's and elsewhere to beware of the duke, who was said upon various - authority to be sulking in Hanover Square, his rage all the more dangerous - because it was smouldering. I saw Dolly only casually before the party to - Vauxhall. Needless to say, she flew in the face of Dr. James's authority, - and went everywhere. She was at Lady Bunbury's drum, whither I had gone in - another fruitless chase after Mr. Marmaduke. Dr. Warner's verse was the - laughter of the company. And, greatly to my annoyance,—in the - circumstances,—I was made a hero of, and showered with three times - as many invitations as I could accept. - </p> - <p> - The whole story got abroad, even to the awakening of the duke in Covent - Garden. And that clownish Mr. Foote, of the Haymarket, had added some - lines to a silly popular song entitled 'The Sights o' Lunnun', with which - I was hailed at Mrs. Betty's fruit-stall in St. James's Street. Here is - one of the verses: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “In Maryland, he hunts the Fox - From dewy Morn till Day grows dim; - At Home he finds a Paradox, - From Noon till Dawn the Fox hunts him.” - </pre> - <p> - Charles Fox laughed when he heard it. But he was serious when he came to - speak of Chartersea, and bade me look out for assassination. I had Banks - follow me abroad at night with a brace of pistols under his coat, albeit I - feared nothing save that I should not have an opportunity to meet the duke - in a fair fight. And I resolved at all hazards to run Mr. Marmaduke down - with despatch, if I had to waylay him. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Storer, who was forever giving parties, was responsible for this one - at Vauxhall. We went in three coaches, and besides Dorothy and Mr. - Marmaduke, the company included Lord and Lady Carlisle, Sir Charles and - Lady Sarah Bunbury, Lady Ossory and Lady Julia Howard, two Miss Stanleys - and Miss Poole, and Comyn, and Hare, and Price, and Fitzpatrick, the - latter feeling very glum over a sum he had dropped that afternoon to Lord - Harrington. Fox had been called to St. Stephen's on more printer's - business. - </p> - <p> - Dolly was in glowing pink, as I loved best to see her, and looked divine. - Comyn and I were in Mr. Manners's coach. The evening was fine and warm, - and my lady in very lively spirits. As we rattled over Westminster Bridge, - the music of the Vauxhall band came “throbbing through the still night,” - and the sky was bright with the reflection of the lights. It was the - fashion with the quality to go late; and so eleven o'clock had struck - before we had pulled up between Vauxhall stairs, crowded with watermen and - rough mudlarks, and the very ordinary-looking house which forms the - entrance of the great garden. Leaving the servants outside, single-file we - trailed through the dark passage guarded by the wicketgate. - </p> - <p> - “Prepare to be ravished, Richard,” said my lady, with fine sarcasm. - </p> - <p> - “You were yourself born in the colonies, miss,” I retorted. “I confess to - a thrill, and will not pretend that I have seen such sights often enough - to be sated.” - </p> - <p> - “La!” exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; “I vow this is refreshing. - Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my - enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me. A great - orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides - with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or swept - around in circles. These were filled with people of all sorts and - conditions, supping and making merry. Other people were sauntering under - the trees, keeping step with the music. Lamps of white and blue and red - and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in - stars and crescents upon the buildings. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “'O Patty! Soft in feature, - I've been at dear Vauxhall; - No paradise is sweeter, - Not that they Eden call.'” - </pre> - <p> - whispered Dolly, paraphrasing. - </p> - <p> - At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the brothers, - proprietors of the gardens. He was a very lively young fellow who seemed - to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk about a little - before being shown to the boxes reserved for us. - </p> - <p> - “They are on the right side, Mr. Tyers?” demanded Mr. Storer. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, to be sure, sir. Your man was most particular to stipulate the pink - and blue flowered brocades, next the Prince of Wales's.” - </p> - <p> - “But you must have the band stop that piece, Mr. Tyers,” cried Lady Sarah. - “I declare, it is too much for my nerves. Let them play Dibbin's Ephesian - Matron.” - </p> - <p> - “As your Ladyship wishes,” responded the obliging Mr. Tyers, and sent off - an uniformed warder to the band-master. - </p> - <p> - As he led us into the Rotunda, my Lady Dolly, being in one of her - whimsical humours, began to recite in the manner of the guide-book, to the - vast diversion of our party and the honest citizens gaping at us. - </p> - <p> - “This, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” says the minx, “is that - marvellous Rotunda commonly known as the 'umbrella,' where the music plays - on wet nights, and where we have our masquerades and ridottos. Their Royal - Highnesses are very commonly seen here on such occasions. As you see, it - is decorated with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with gilded festoons. - That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth. The organ in the orchestra - cost—you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,—and the ceiling is - at least two hundred feet high. Gentlemen from the colonies and the - country take notice.” - </p> - <p> - By this time we were surrounded. Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and - crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, - was wholly convulsed. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Miss Manners, and you would consent to do this two nights more, we - should have to open another gate,” he declared. Followed by the mob, which - it seems was part of the excitement, he led us out of the building into - the Grand Walk; and offered to turn on the waterfall and mill, which (so - Lady Sarah explained to me) the farmers and merchants fell down and - worshipped every night at nine, to the tinkling of bells. She told Mr. - Tyers there was diversion enough without “tin cascades.” When we got to - the Grand Cross Walk he pointed out the black “Wilderness” of tall elms - and cedars looming ahead of us. And—so we came to the South Walk, - with its three triumphal arches framing a noble view of architecture at - the far end. Our gentlemen sauntered ahead, with their spy-glasses, - staring the citizens' pretty daughters out of countenance, and making - cynical remarks. - </p> - <p> - “Why, egad!” I heard Sir Charles say, “the wig-makers have no cause to - petition his Majesty for work. I'll be sworn the false hair this good - staymaker has on cost a guinea.” - </p> - <p> - A remark which caused the staymaker (if such he was) such huge discomfort - that he made off with his wife in the opposite direction, to the time of - jeers and cock-crows from the bevy of Vauxhall bucks walking abreast. - </p> - <p> - “You must show us the famous 'dark walks,' Mr. Tyers,” says Dorothy. - </p> - <p> - “Surely you will not care to see those, Miss Manners.” - </p> - <p> - “O lud, of course you must,” chimed in the Miss Stanleys; “there is no - spice in these flaps and flies.” - </p> - <p> - He led us accordingly into Druid's Walk, overarched with elms, and dark as - the shades, our gentlemen singing, “'Ods! Lovers will contrive,'” in - chorus, the ladies exclaiming and drawing together. Then I felt a soft, - restraining hold on my arm, and fell back instinctively, vibrating to the - touch. - </p> - <p> - “Could you not see that I have been trying to get a word with you for ever - so long?” - </p> - <p> - “I trust you to find a way, Dolly, if you but wish,” I replied, admiring - her stratagem. - </p> - <p> - “I am serious to-night.” Indeed, her voice betrayed as much. How well I - recall those rich and low tones! “I said I wished you shut up in the - Marshalsea, and I meant it. I have been worrying about you.” - </p> - <p> - “You make me very happy,” said I; which was no lie. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, you are every bit as reckless and indifferent of danger as they - say your father was. And I am afraid—” - </p> - <p> - “Of what?” I asked quickly. - </p> - <p> - “You once mentioned a name to me—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” I was breathing deep. - </p> - <p> - “I have forgiven you,” she said gently. “I never meant to have referred to - that incident more. You will understand whom I mean. You must know that he - is a dangerous man, and a treacherous. Oh!” she exclaimed, “I have been in - hourly terror ever since you rode against him in Hyde Park. There! I have - said it.” - </p> - <p> - The tense sweetness of that moment none will ever know. - </p> - <p> - “But you have more reason to fear him than I, Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” she whispered, catching her breath; “what are you saying?” - </p> - <p> - “That he has more cause to fear me than I to dread him.” - </p> - <p> - She came a little closer. - </p> - <p> - “You stayed in London for me, Richard. Why did you? There was no need,” - she exclaimed; “there was no need, do you hear? Oh, I shall never forgive - Comyn for his meddling! I am sure 'twas he who told you some ridiculous - story. He had no foundation for it.” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy,” I demanded, my voice shaking with earnestness, “will you tell - me honestly there is no foundation for the report that the duke is - intriguing to marry you?” - </p> - <p> - That question was not answered, and regret came the instant it had left my - lips—regret and conviction both. Dorothy joined Lady Carlisle before - our absence had been noted, and began to banter Fitzpatrick upon his - losings. - </p> - <p> - We were in the lighted Grove again, and sitting down to a supper of - Vauxhall fare: transparent slices of ham (which had been a Vauxhall joke - for ages), and chickens and cheese cakes and champagne and claret, and - arrack punch. Mr. Tyers extended the concert in our favour. Mrs. Weichsell - and the beautiful Baddeley trilled sentimental ballads which our ladies - chose; and Mr. Vernon, the celebrated tenor, sang Cupid's Recruiting - Sergeant so happily that Storer sent him a bottle of champagne. After - which we amused ourselves with catches until the space between our boxes - and the orchestra was filled. In the midst of this Comyn came quietly in - from the other box and took a seat beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Chartersea is here to-night,” said he. - </p> - <p> - I started. “How do you know?” - </p> - <p> - “Tyers told me he turned up half an hour since. Tom asked his Grace to - join our party,” his Lordship laughed. “Duke said no—he was to be - here only half an hour, and Tom did not push him. He told me as a joke, - and thinks Chartersea came to meet some petite.” - </p> - <p> - “Any one with him?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Tall, dark man, one eye cast,—that's Lewis. They have come on - some dirty work, Richard. Watch little Marmaduke. He has been fidgety as a - cat all night.” - </p> - <p> - “That's true,” said I. Looking up, I caught Dorothy's eyes upon us, her - lips parted, uneasiness and apprehension plain upon her face. Comyn - dropped his voice still lower. - </p> - <p> - “I believe she suspects something,” he said, rising. “Chartersea is gone - off toward the Wilderness, so Tom says. You must not let little Marmaduke - see him. If Manners gets up to go, I will tune up Black-eked Susan, and do - you follow on some pretext. If you are not back in a reasonable time, I'll - after you.” - </p> - <p> - He had been gone scant three minutes before I heard his clear voice - singing, “in the Downs”, and up I got, with a precipitation far from - politic, and stepped out of the box. Our company stared in surprise. But - Dorothy rose clear from her chair. The terror I saw stamped upon her face - haunts me yet, and I heard her call my name. - </p> - <p> - I waited for nothing. Gaining the Grand Walk, I saw Mr. Marmaduke's - insignificant figure dodging fearfully among the roughs, whose hour it - was. He traversed the Cross Walk, and twenty yards farther on dived into - an opening in the high hedge bounding the Wilderness. Before he had made - six paces I had him by the shoulder, and he let out a shriek of fright - like a woman's. - </p> - <p> - “It is I, Richard Carvel, Mr. Manners,” I said shortly. I could not keep - out the contempt from my tone. “I beg a word with you.” - </p> - <p> - In his condition then words were impossible. His teeth rattled again, and - he trembled like a hare caught alive. I kept my hold of him, and employed - the time until he should be more composed peering into the darkness. For - all I knew Chartersea might be within ear-shot. But I could see nothing - but black trunks of trees. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - “You are going to meet Chartersea,” I said. - </p> - <p> - He must have seen the futility of a lie, or else was scared out of all - contrivance. “Yes,” he said weakly. - </p> - <p> - “You have allowed it to become the talk of London that this filthy - nobleman is blackmailing you for your daughter,” I went on, without - wasting words. “Tell me, is it, or is it not, true?” - </p> - <p> - As he did not answer, I retained a handful of the grained silk on his - shoulder as a measure of precaution. - </p> - <p> - “Is this so?” I repeated. - </p> - <p> - “You must know, I suppose,” he said, under his breath, and with a note of - sullenness. - </p> - <p> - “I must,” I said firmly. “The knowledge is the weapon need, for I, too, am - going to meet Chartersea.” - </p> - <p> - He ceased quivering all at once. - </p> - <p> - “You are going to meet him!” he cried, in another voice. “Yes, yes, it is - so,—it is so. I will tell you all.” - </p> - <p> - “Keep it to yourself, Mr. Manners,” I replied, with repugnance, “I have - heard all I wish. Where is he?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Hold the path until you come to him. And God bless—” - </p> - <p> - I shook my head. - </p> - <p> - “No, not that! Do you go back to the company and make some excuse for me. - Do not alarm them. And if you get the chance, tell Lord Comyn where to - come.” - </p> - <p> - I waited until I saw him under the lights of the Grand Walk, and fairly - running. Then I swung on my heel. I was of two minds whether to wait for - Comyn, by far the wiser course. The unthinking recklessness I had - inherited drove me on. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLI. THE WILDERNESS - </h2> - <p> - My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made out a - bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I should have - known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as I - stopped abreast them, and called the duke by name. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel!” he cried; “what the devil do you here, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners,” I said. “May I speak - to your Grace alone?” - </p> - <p> - He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneering - laugh. - </p> - <p> - “No,” says he, “damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you, - sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. And he - is not the first, Lewis.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor the last, by G—,” says the captain. - </p> - <p> - “I have a score to settle with you, d—n you!” cried Chartersea. - </p> - <p> - “That is why I am here, your Grace,” I replied; “only you have twisted the - words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you,” I cried, - boiling with anger, “I have come to tell you there has been foul play - enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put an end to - your blackmail.” - </p> - <p> - In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. But I - was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face—nay, - boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of the - scabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to distance at the same instant. - Then, with something of a shudder, I remembered young Atwater, and a 380 - brace of other instances of his villany. I looked for the captain. He was - gone. - </p> - <p> - Our blades, the duke's and mine, came together with a ring, and I felt the - strength of his wrist behind his, and of his short, powerful arm. The - steel sung with our quick changes from 'quarte' to 'tierce'. 'Twas all by - the feeling, without light to go by, and hatred between us left little - space for skill. Our lunges were furious. 'Twas not long before I felt his - point at my chest, but his reach was scant. All at once the music swelled - up voices and laughter were wafted faintly from the pleasure world of - lights beyond. But my head was filled, to the exclusion of all else, with - a hatred and fury. And (God forgive me!) from between my teeth came a - prayer that if I might kill this monster, I would die willingly. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly, as I pressed him, he shifted ground, and there was Lewis - standing within range of my eye. His hands were nowhere—they were - behind his back! God alone knows why he had not murdered me. To keep - Chartersea between him and me I swung another quarter. The duke seemed to - see my game, struggled against it, tried to rush in under my guard, made a - vicious lunge that would have ended me then and there had he not slipped. - We were both panting like wild beasts. When next I raised my eyes Lewis - had faded into the darkness. Then I felt my head as wet as from a plunge, - the water running on my brow, and my back twitching. Every second I - thought the sting of his sword was between my ribs. But to forsake the - duke would have been the maddest of follies. - </p> - <p> - In that moment of agony came footsteps beating on the path, and by tacit - consent our swords were still. We listened. - </p> - <p> - “Richard! Richard Carvel!” - </p> - <p> - For the second time in my life I thanked Heaven for that brave and loyal - English heart. I called back, but my throat was dry and choked. - </p> - <p> - “So they are at their d—d assassins' tricks again! You need have no - fear of one murderer.” - </p> - <p> - With that their steels rang out behind me, like broadswords, Lewis wasting - his breath in curses and blasphemies. I began to push Chartersea with all - my might, and the wonder of it was that we did not fight with our fingers - on each other's necks. His attacks, too, redoubled. Twice I felt the - stings of his point, once in the hand, and once in the body, but I minded - them as little as pinpricks. I was sure I had touched him, too. I heard - him blowing distressedly. The casks of wine he had drunk in his short life - were telling now, and his thrusts grew weaker. That fiercest of all joys—of - killing an enemy—was in me, when I heard a cry that rang in my ears - for many a year afterward, and the thud of a body on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “I have done for him, your Grace,” says Lewis, with an oath; and added - immediately, “I think I hear people.” - </p> - <p> - Before I had reached my Lord the captain repeated this, and excitedly - begged the duke, I believe, to fly. Chartersea hissed out that he would - not move a step until he had finished me, and as I bent over the body his - point popped through my coat, and the pain shot under my shoulder. I - staggered, and fell. A second of silence ensued, when the duke said with a - laugh that was a cackle: - </p> - <p> - “He won't marry her, d—n him!” (panting). “He had me cursed near - killed, Lewis. Best give him another for luck.” - </p> - <p> - I felt his heavy hand on the sword, and it tearing out of me. Next came - the single word “Dover,” and they were gone. I had not lost my senses, and - was on my knees again immediately, ripping open Comyn's waistcoat with my - left hand, and murmuring his name in an agony of sorrow. I was searching - under his shirt, wet with blood, when I became aware of voices at my side. - “A duel! A murder! Call the warders! Warders, ho!” - </p> - <p> - “A surgeon!” I cried. “A surgeon first of all!” - </p> - <p> - Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickering - in the wind, before his Lordship's face. Guided by its light, more people - came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns, headed by - Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my Lord Carlisle. We - carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed the doors against - the crowd. - </p> - <p> - By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardens that - night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with the constable - and the watch. Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charles washed and - dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to our anxious - questions replied that there was a chance of recovery. - </p> - <p> - “But you, too, are hurt, sir,” he said, turning his clear eyes upon me. - Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during the whole - of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it. By great - good fortune Chartersea's thrust, which he thought had ended my life, - passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodged deep in - my right nipple. This wound the surgeon bound carefully, and likewise two - smaller ones. - </p> - <p> - The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea. And so I was forced - to tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, going out to - the scene of the fight, discovered the duke's sword which he had pulled - out of me, and Lewis's laced hat; and also a trail of blood leading from - the spot. Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Chartersea that night, and - Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the duke bore me. I was given - my liberty. - </p> - <p> - Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in Sir - Charles's coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him. 'Twas on the way - there that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard the - alarm—a piece of news which added to my anxiety. We called up the - dowager countess, Comyn's mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her, - mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame. Her Ladyship received - the tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent of reproaches - I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home and care for my - injuries lest I get the fever. I believe that I burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan from - his lips, and his heart beating out slowly. - </p> - <p> - We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying: “Past two o'clock, and - a windy morning!” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night. And the next morning, save for - the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever. I was - again to thank the robustness of my health. Despite the protests of Banks - and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not having been to bed - at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street. There I had the - good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind. Comyn was resting so - much easier that the surgeon had left, and her Ladyship retired two hours - since. - </p> - <p> - The day was misting and dark, but so vast was my relief that I imagined - the sun was out as I rattled toward Arlington Street. If only Dolly were - not ill again from the shock, I should be happy indeed. She must have - heard, ere then, that I was not killed; and I had still better news to - tell her than that of Lord Comyn's condition. Mr. Fox, who got every - rumour that ran, had shouted after me that the duke and Lewis were set out - for France. How he knew I had not waited to inquire. But the report - tallied with my own surmise, for they had used the word “Dover” when they - left us for dead in the Wilderness. - </p> - <p> - I dismissed my chaise at the door. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners waits on you, sir, in the drawing-room,” said the footman. - “Your honour is here sooner than he looked for,” he added gratuitously. - </p> - <p> - “Sooner than he looked for?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir. James is gone to you but quarter of an hour since with a - message, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I was puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “And Miss Manners? Is she well?” - </p> - <p> - The man smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Very well, sir, thank your honour.” - </p> - <p> - To add to my surprise, Mr. Marmaduke was pacing the drawing-room in a - yellow night-gown. He met me with an expression I failed to fathom, and - then my eye was held by a letter in his hand. He cleared his throat. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, Richard,” said he, very serious,—very pompous, I - thought. “I am pleased to see that you are so well out of the deplorable - affair of last night.” - </p> - <p> - I had not looked for gratitude. In truth, I had done nothing for him, and - Chartersea might have exposed him a highwayman for all I cared,—I - had fought for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about to make - a tart reply, and then thought better of it. - </p> - <p> - “Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel,” says he to the footman. Then - to me: “I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger.” - </p> - <p> - I merely stared at him. - </p> - <p> - “Will you sit?” he continued. “To speak truth, the Annapolis packet came - in last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time to - hear from Maryland, I sent for you.” - </p> - <p> - My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning from - this introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him for - sending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leave my - bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair. - </p> - <p> - “You have heard from Maryland?” I cried. “Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tell me, - is Mr. Carvel dead?” And I clutched his arm to make him wince. - </p> - <p> - He nodded, and turned away. “My dear old friend is no more,” he said. - “Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month.” - </p> - <p> - I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollections - overwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind. - One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, I had - missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton brought the - tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive his last - words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow. Who had - he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? The - imagination of that scene drove me mad. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quickly - that I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I to die - to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it the smile - which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, there was in - it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act. - </p> - <p> - “There is more, Richard,” he was saying; “there is worse to come. Can you - bear it?” - </p> - <p> - His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short of - temper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And now - all my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined his - meaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father. - </p> - <p> - “Worse?” I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. “Do you mean that - Grafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he gasped, “yes. I pray you be calm.” - </p> - <p> - “And you call that worse than losing my dearest friend on earth?” I cried. - There must have been an infinite scorn in my voice. “Then your standards - and mine are different, Mr. Manners. Your ways and mine are different, and - I thank God for it. You have played more than one double part with me. You - looked me in the face and denied me, and left me to go to a prison. I - shall not repeat my grandfather's kindnesses to you, sir. Though you may - not recall them, I do. And if your treatment of me was known in Maryland, - you would be drummed out of the colony even as Mr. Hood was, and hung in - effigy” - </p> - <p> - “As God hears me, Richard—” - </p> - <p> - “Do not add perjury to it,” I said. “And have no uneasiness that I shall - publish you. Your wife and daughter have saved you before,—they will - save you now.” - </p> - <p> - I paused, struck speechless by a suspicion that suddenly flashed into my - head. A glance at the contemptible form cowering within the folds of the - flowered gown clinched it to a conviction. In two strides I had seized him - by the skin over his ribs, and he shrieked with pain and fright. - </p> - <p> - “You—you snake!” I cried, in uncontrollable anger. “You well knew - Dorothy's spirit, which she has not got from you, and you lied to her. - Yes, lied, I say. To force her to marry Chartersea you made her believe - that your precious honour was in danger. And you lied to me last night, - and sent me in the dark to fight two of the most treacherous villains in - England. You wish they had killed me. The plot was between you and his - Grace. You, who have not a cat's courage, commit an indiscretion! You - never made one in your life, Tell me,” I cried, shaking him until his - teeth smote together, “was it not put up between you?” - </p> - <p> - “Let me go! Let me go, and I will tell!” he wailed in the agony of my - grip. I tightened it the more. - </p> - <p> - “You shall confess it first,” I said, from between my teeth. - </p> - <p> - Scarce had his lips formed the word yes, when I had flung him half across - the room. He tripped on his gown, and fell sprawling on his hands. So the - servant found us when he came back with the tray. The lackey went out - again hastily. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” I exclaimed, in bitterness and disgust; “you are a father, and - would sell both your daughter and your honour for a title, and to the - filthiest wretch in the kingdom?” - </p> - <p> - Without bestowing upon him another look, I turned on my heel and left the - room. I had set my foot on the stair, when I heard the rustle of a dress, - and the low voice which I knew so well calling my name. - </p> - <p> - “Richard.” - </p> - <p> - There at my side was Dorothy, even taller in her paleness, with sorrow and - agitation in her blue eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I have heard all.—I listened. Are you going away without a - word for me?” Her breath came fast, and mine, as she laid a hand upon my - arm. “Richard, I do not care whether you are poor. What am I saying?” she - cried wildly. “Am I false to my own father? Richard, what have you done?” - </p> - <p> - And then, while I stood dazed, she tore open her gown, and drawing forth a - little gold locket, pressed it in my palm. “The flowers you gave me on - your birthday,—the lilies of the valley, do you remember? They are - here, Richard. I have worn them upon my heart ever since.” - </p> - <p> - I raised the locket to my lips. - </p> - <p> - “I shall treasure it for your sake, Dorothy,” I said, “for the sake of the - old days. God keep you!” - </p> - <p> - For a moment I looked into the depths of her eyes. Then she was gone, and - I went down the stairs alone. Outside, the rain fell unheeded on my new - coat. My steps bent southward, past Whitehall, where the martyr Charles - had met death so nobly: past the stairs to the river, where she had - tripped with me so gayly not a month since. Death was in my soul that day,—death - and love, which is the mystery of life. God guided me into the great Abbey - near by, where I fell on my knees before Him and before England's dead. He - had raised them and cast them down, even as He was casting me, that I - might come to know the glory of His holy name. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 7. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLII. MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN - </h2> - <p> - At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with indignation - and fidgety from uneasiness. - </p> - <p> - “O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?” he cried. “Your honour's - agent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o' him, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair Dolly - had chosen, smoking my tobacco. I stared at him from the threshold. - Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or both brought him to his - feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face. He put down the pipe - guiltily. I told him shortly that I had heard the news which he must have - got by the packet: and that he should have his money, tho' it took the - rest of my life: and the ten per cent I had promised him provided he would - not press my Lord Comyn. He hesitated, and drummed on the table. He was - the man of business again. - </p> - <p> - “What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “My word,” I said. “It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor my - father's before me. And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to say - that of Grafton.” Truly I thought the principal and agent were now well - matched. - </p> - <p> - “Very good, Mr. Carvel,” he said; “ten per cent. I shall call with the - papers on Monday morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not run away before that,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customary - protestations of duty and humble offers of service. And I thanked Heaven - he had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not have borne, - but must have laid hands upon him. Perhaps he believed Grafton not yet - secure in his title. I did not wonder then, in the heat of my youth, that - he should have accepted my honour as security. But since I have marvelled - not a little at this. The fine gentlemen at Brooks's with whom I had been - associating were none too scrupulous, and regarded money-lenders as - legitimate prey. Debts of honour they paid but tardily, if at all. A - certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteen thousand pounds - for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won at hazard. And tho' I - blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious in such matters, and was - in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables of which he was the devoted - chief. - </p> - <p> - The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would never - desert me. And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow's devotion - brought me no little comfort. At such times the heart is bitter. We look - askance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard for those - that remain true. I had a great affection for the man, and had become so - used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not the courage to - refuse his prayers to go with me to America. I had not a farthing of my - own—he would serve me for nothing—nay, work for me. “Sure,” he - said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,—“Sure, your honour - was not made to work.” To cheer me he went on with some foolish footman's - gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures who would marry me, and - be thankful. I smiled sadly. - </p> - <p> - “That was when I was Mr. Carvel's heir, Banks.” - </p> - <p> - “And your face and figure, sir, and masterful ways! Faith, and what more - would a lady want!” Banks's notions of morality were vague enough, and he - would have had me sink what I had left at hazard at Almack's. He had lived - in this atmosphere. Alas! there was little chance of my ever regaining the - position I had held but yesterday. I thought of the sponging-house, and my - brow was moist. England was no place, in those days, for fallen gentlemen. - With us in the Colonies the law offered itself. Mr. Swain, and other - barristers of Annapolis, came to my mind, for God had given me courage. I - would try the law. For I had small hopes of defeating my Uncle Grafton. - </p> - <p> - The Sunday morning dawned brightly, and the church bells ringing brought - me to my feet, and out into Piccadilly, in the forlorn hope that I might - see my lady on her way to morning service,—see her for the last time - in life, perhaps. Her locket I wore over my heart. It had lain upon hers. - To see her was the most exquisite agony in the world. But not to see her, - and to feel that she was scarce quarter of a mile away, was beyond - endurance. I stood beside an area at the entrance to Arlington Street, and - waited for an hour, quite in vain; watching every face that passed, - townsmen in their ill-fitting Sunday clothes, and fine ladies with the - footmen carrying velvet prayerbooks. And some that I knew only stared, and - others gave me distant bows from their coach windows. For those that fall - from fashion are dead to fashion. - </p> - <p> - Dorothy did not go to church that day. - </p> - <p> - It is a pleasure, my dears, when writing of that hour of bitterness, to - record the moments of sweetness which lightened it. As I climbed up to my - rooms in Dover Street, I heard merry sounds above, and a cloud of smoke - blew out of the door when I opened it. - </p> - <p> - “Here he is,” cried Mr. Fox. “You see, Richard, we have not deserted you - when we can win no more of your money.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, egad! the man looks as if he had had a calamity,” said Mr. - Fitzpatrick. - </p> - <p> - “And there is not a Jew here,” Fox continued. “Tho' it is Sunday, the air - in my Jerusalem chamber is as bad as in any crimps den in St. Giles's. - 'Slife, and I live to be forty, I shall have as many underground avenues - as his Majesty Louis the Eleventh.” - </p> - <p> - “He must have a place,” put in my Lord Carlisle. - </p> - <p> - “We must do something for him,” said Fox, “albeit he is an American and a - Whig, and all the rest of the execrations. Thou wilt have to swallow thy - golden opinions, my buckskin, when we put thee in office.” - </p> - <p> - I was too overwhelmed even to protest. - </p> - <p> - “You are not in such a cursed bad way, when all is said, Richard,” said - Fitzpatrick. “Charles, when he loses a fortune, immediately borrows - another.” - </p> - <p> - “If you stick to whist and quinze,” said Charles, solemnly, giving me the - advice they were forever thrusting upon him, “and play with system, you - may make as much as four thousand a year, sir.” - </p> - <p> - And this was how I was treated by those heathen and cynical macaronies, - Mr. Fox's friends. I may not say the same for the whole of Brooks's Club, - tho' I never darkened its doors afterwards. But I encountered my Lord - March that afternoon, and got only a blank stare in place of a bow. - </p> - <p> - Charles had collected (Heaven knows how!) the thousand pounds which he - stood in my debt, and Mr. Storer and Lord Carlisle offered to lend me as - much as I chose. I had some difficulty in refusing, and more still in - denying Charles when he pressed me to go with them to Richmond, where he - had rooms for play over Sunday. - </p> - <p> - Banks brought me the news that Lord Comyn was sitting up, and had been - asking for me that day; that he was recovering beyond belief. But I was - resolved not to go to Brook Street until the money affairs were settled on - Monday with Mr. Dix, for I knew well that his Lordship would insist upon - carrying out with the agent the contract he had so generously and hastily - made, rather than let me pay an abnormal interest. - </p> - <p> - On Monday I rose early, and went out for a bit of air before the scene - with Mr. Dix. Returning, I saw a coach with his Lordship's arms on the - panels, and there was Comyn himself in my great chair at the window, where - he had been deposited by Banks and his footman. I stared as on one risen - from the dead. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Jack, what are you doing here?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - He replied very offhand, as was his manner at such times: - </p> - <p> - “Blicke vows that Chartersea and Lewis have qualified for the College of - Surgeons,” says he. “They are both born anatomists. Your job under the arm - was the worst bungle of the two, egad, for Lewis put his sword, pat as you - please, between two of my organs (cursed if I know their names), and not - so much as scratched one.” - </p> - <p> - “Look you, Jack,” said I, “I am not deceived. You have no right to be - here, and you know it.” - </p> - <p> - “Tush!” answered his Lordship; “I am as well as you.” And he took snuff to - prove the assertion. “Why the devil was you not in Brook Street yesterday - to tell me that your uncle had swindled you? I thought I was your friend,” - says he, “and I learn of your misfortune through others.” - </p> - <p> - “It is because you are my friend, and my best friend, that I would not - worry you when you lay next door to death on my account,” I said, with - emotion. - </p> - <p> - And just then Banks announced Mr. Dix. - </p> - <p> - “Let him wait,” said I, greatly disturbed. - </p> - <p> - “Show him up!” said my Lord, peremptorily. - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” I protested; “he can wait. We shall have no business now.” - </p> - <p> - But Banks was gone. And I found out, long afterward, that it was put up - between them. - </p> - <p> - The agent swaggered in with that easy assurance he assumed whenever he got - the upper hand. He was the would-be squire once again, in top-boots and a - frock. I have rarely seen a man put out of countenance so easily as was - Mr. Dix that morning when he met his Lordship's fixed gaze from the - arm-chair. - </p> - <p> - “And so you are turned Jew?” says he, tapping his snuffbox. “Before you go - ahead so fast again, you will please to remember, d—n you, that Mr. - Carvel is the kind that does not lose his friends with his fortune.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dix made a salaam, which was so ludicrous in a squire that my Lord - roared with laughter, and I feared for his wound. - </p> - <p> - “A man must live, my Lord,” sputtered the agent. His discomfiture was - painful. - </p> - <p> - “At the expense of another,” says Comyn, dryly. “That is your motto in - Change Alley.” - </p> - <p> - “If you will permit, Jack, I must have a few words in private with Mr. - Dix,” I cut in uneasily. - </p> - <p> - His Lordship would be damned first. “I am not accustomed to be thwarted, - Richard, I tell you. Ask the dowager if I have not always had my way. I am - not going to stand by and see a man who saved my life fall into the - clutches of an usurer. Yes, I said usurer, Mr. Dix. My attorney, Mr. - Kennett, of Lincoln's Inn, has instructions to settle with you.” - </p> - <p> - And, despite all I could say, he would not budge an inch. At last I - submitted under the threat that he would never after have a word to say to - me. By good luck, when I had paid into Mr. Dix's hand the thousand pounds - I had received from Charles Fox, and cleared my outstanding bills, the sum - I remained in Comyn's debt was not greatly above seven hundred pounds. And - that was the end of Mr. Dix for me; when he had backed himself out in - chagrin at having lost his ten per centum, my feelings got the better of - me. The water rushed to my eyes, and I turned my back upon his Lordship. - To conceal his own emotions he fell to swearing like mad. - </p> - <p> - “Fox will get you something,” he said at length, when he was a little - calmed. - </p> - <p> - I told him, sadly, that my duty took me to America. - </p> - <p> - “And Dorothy?” he said; “you will leave her?” - </p> - <p> - I related the whole miserable story (all save the part of the locket), for - I felt that I owed it him. His excitement grew as he listened, until I had - to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he saw nothing - but good to come of it. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!” he cried. “Give me your hand. Why, - you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. She loves you! - Did I not say so? And as for that intriguing little puppy, her father, you - have pulled his teeth, egad. She heard what you said to him, you tell me. - Then he will never deceive her again, my word on't. And Chartersea may - come back to London, and be damned.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLIII. ANNAPOLIS ONCE MORE - </h2> - <p> - Three days after that I was at sea, in the Norfolk packet, with the - farewells of my loyal English friends ringing in my ears. Captain Graham, - the master of the packet, and his passengers found me but a poor - companion. But they had heard of my misfortune, and vied with each other - in heaping kindnesses upon me. Nor did they intrude on my walks in the - night watches, to see me slipping a locket from under my waistcoat—ay, - and raising it to my lips. 'Twas no doubt a blessing that I had lesser - misfortunes to share my attention. God had put me in the way of looking - forward rather than behind, and I was sure that my friends in Annapolis - would help me to an honest living, and fight my cause against Grafton. - </p> - <p> - Banks was with me. The devoted soul did his best to cheer me, tho' - downcast himself at leaving England. To know what to do with him gave me - many an anxious moment. I doubted not that I could get him into a service, - but when I spoke of such a thing he burst into tears, and demanded whether - I meant to throw him off. Nor was any argument of mine of use. - </p> - <p> - After a fair and uneventful voyage of six weeks, I beheld again my native - shores in the low spits of the Virginia capes. The sand was very hot and - white, and the waters of the Chesapeake rolled like oil under the July - sun. We were all day getting over to Yorktown, the ship's destination. A - schooner was sailing for Annapolis early the next morning, and I barely - had time to get off my baggage and catch her. We went up the bay with a - fresh wind astern, which died down at night. - </p> - <p> - The heat was terrific after England and the sea-voyage, and we slept on - the deck. And Banks sat, most of the day, exclaiming at the vast scale on - which this new country was laid out, and wondering at the myriad islands - we passed, some of them fair with grain and tobacco; and at the low-lying - shores clothed with forests, and broken by the salt marshes, with now and - then the manor-house of some gentleman-planter visible on either side. - Late on the second day I beheld again the cliffs that mark the mouth of - the Severn, then the sail-dotted roads and the roofs of Annapolis. - </p> - <p> - We landed, Banks and I, in a pinnace from the schooner, and so full was my - heart at the sight of the old objects that I could only gulp now and then, - and utter never a word. There was the dock where I had paced up and down - near the whole night, when Dolly had sailed away; and Pryse the - coachmaker's shop, and the little balcony upon which I had stood with my - grandfather, and railed in a boyish tenor at Mr. Hood. The sun cast sharp, - black shadows. And it being the middle of the dull season, when the - quality were at their seats, and the dinner-hour besides, the town might - have been a deserted one for its stillness, as tho' the inhabitants had - walked out of it, and left it so. I made my way, Banks behind me, into - Church Street, past the “Ship” tavern, which brought memories of the brawl - there, and of Captain Clapsaddle forcing the mob, like chaff, before his - sword. The bees were humming idly over the sweet-scented gardens, and - Farris, the clock-maker, sat at his door, and nodded. He jerked his head - as I went by with a cry of “Lord, it is Mr. Richard back!” and I must - needs pause, to let him bow over my hand. Farther up the street I came to - mine host of the Coffee House standing on his steps, with his hands behind - his back. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Claude,” I said. - </p> - <p> - He looked at me as tho' I had risen from the dead. - </p> - <p> - “God save us!” he shouted, in a voice that echoed through the narrow - street. “God save us!” - </p> - <p> - He seemed to go all to pieces. To my bated questions he replied at length, - when he had got his breath, that Captain Clapsaddle had come to town but - the day before, and was even then in the coffee-room at his dinner. Alone? - Yes, alone. Almost tottering, I mounted the steps, and turned in at the - coffee-room door, and stopped. There sat the captain at a table, the roast - and wine untouched before him, his waistcoat thrown open. He was staring - out of the open window into the inn garden beyond, with its shade of - cherry trees. Mr. Claude's cry had not disturbed his reveries, nor our - talk after it. I went forward. I touched him on the shoulder, and he - sprang up, and looked once into my face, and by some trick of the mind - uttered the very words Mr. Claude had used. - </p> - <p> - “God save us! Richard!” And he opened his arms and strained me to his - great chest, calling my name again and again, while the tears coursed down - the furrows of his cheeks. For I marked the furrows for the first time, - and the wrinkles settling in his forehead and around his eyes. What he - said when he released me, nor my replies, can I remember now, but at last - he called, in his ringing voice, to mine host: - </p> - <p> - “A bottle from your choicest bin, Claude! Some of Mr. Bordley's. For he - that was lost is found.” - </p> - <p> - The hundred questions I had longed to ask were forgotten. A peace stole - upon me that I had not felt since I had looked upon his face before. The - wine was brought by Mr. Claude, and opened, and it was mine host who broke - the silence, and the spell. - </p> - <p> - “Your very good health, Mr. Richard,” he said; “and may you come to your - own again!” - </p> - <p> - “I drink it with all my heart, Richard,” replied Captain Daniel. But he - glanced at me sadly, and his honest nature could put no hope into his - tone. “We have got him back again, Mr. Claude. And God has answered our - prayers. So let us be thankful.” And he sat down in silence, gazing at me - in pity and tenderness, while Mr. Claude withdrew. “I can give you but a - sad welcome home, my lad,” he said presently, with a hesitation strange to - him. “'Tis not the first bad news I have had to break in my life to your - family, but I pray it may be the last.” He paused. I knew he was thinking - of the black tidings he had once brought my mother. “Richard, your - grandfather is dead,” he ended abruptly. - </p> - <p> - I nodded wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “What!” he exclaimed; “you have heard already?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Manners told me, in London,” I said, completely mystified. - </p> - <p> - “London!” he cried, starting forward. “London and Mr. Manners! Have you - been to London?” - </p> - <p> - “You had my letters to Mr. Carvel?” I demanded, turning suddenly sick. - </p> - <p> - His eye flashed. - </p> - <p> - “Never a letter. We mourned you for dead, Richard. This is Grafton's - work!” he cried, springing to his feet and striking the table with his - great fist, so that the dishes jumped. “Grafton Carvel, the prettiest - villain in these thirteen colonies! Oh, we shall hang him some day.” - </p> - <p> - “Then Mr. Carvel died without knowing that I was safe?” I interrupted. - </p> - <p> - “On that I'll lay all my worldly goods,” replied Captain Daniel, - emphatically. “If any letters came to Marlboro' Street from you, Mr. - Carvel never dropped eyes on 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “What a fool was I not to have written you!” I groaned. - </p> - <p> - He drew his chair around the table, and close to mine. - </p> - <p> - “Had the news that you escaped death been cried aloud in the streets, my - lad, 'twould never have got to your grandfather's ear,” he said, in lower - tones. “I will tell you what happened, tho' I have it at second hand, - being in the North, as you may remember. Grafton came in from Kent and - invested Marlboro' Street. He himself broke the news to Mr. Carvel, who - took to his bed. Leiden was not in attendance, you may be sure, but that - quack-doctor Drake. Swain sent me a message, and I killed a horse getting - here from New York. But I could no more gain admittance to your - grandfather, Richard, than to King George the Third. I was met in the hall - by that crocodile, who told me with too many fair words that I could not - see my old friend; that for the present Dr. Drake denied him everybody. - Then I damned Dr. Drake, and Grafton too. And I let him know my - suspicions. He ordered me off, Richard—from that house which has - been my only home for these twenty years.” His voice broke. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel thought me dead, then.” - </p> - <p> - “And most mercifully. Your black Hugo, when he was somewhat recovered, - swore he had seen you killed and carried off. Sooth, they say there was - blood enough on the place. But we spared no pains to obtain a clew of you. - I went north to Boston, and Lloyd's factor south to Charleston. But no - trace of the messenger who came to the Coffee House after you could we - find. Hell had opened and swallowed him. And mark this for consummate - villany: Grafton himself spent no less than five hundred pounds in - advertising and the like.” - </p> - <p> - “And he is not suspected?” I asked. This was the same question I had put - to Mrs. Manners. It caused the captain to flare up again. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis incredible how a rogue may impose upon men of worth and integrity if - he but know how to smirk piously, and never miss a service. And then he is - an exceeding rich man. Riches cover a multitude of sins in the most - virtuous community in the world. Your Aunt Caroline brought him a pretty - fortune, you know. We had ominous times this spring, with the associations - forming, and the 'Good Intent' and the rest being sent back to England. - His Excellency was at his wits' end for support. It was Grafton Carvel who - helped him most, and spent money like tobacco for the King's cause, which, - being interpreted, was for his own advancement. But I believe Colonel - Lloyd suspects him, tho' he has never said as much to me. I have told Mr. - Swain, under secrecy, what I think. He is one of the ablest lawyers that - the colony owns, Richard, and a stanch friend of yours. He took your case - of his own accord. But he says we have no foothold as yet.” - </p> - <p> - When I asked if there was a will the captain rapped out an oath. - </p> - <p> - “'Sdeath! yes,” he cried, “a will in favour of Grafton and his heirs, - witnessed by Dr. Drake, they say, and another scoundrel. Your name does - not occur throughout the length and breadth of it. You were dead. But you - will have to ask Mr. Swain for those particulars. My dear old friend was - sadly gone when he wrote it, I fear. For he never lacked shrewdness in his - best days. Nor,” added Captain Daniel, with force, “nor did he want for a - proper estimation of Grafton.” - </p> - <p> - “He has never been the same since that first sickness,” I answered sadly. - </p> - <p> - When the captain came to speak of Mr. Carvel's death, the son and daughter - he loved, and the child of his old age in the grave before him, he - proceeded brokenly, and the tears blinded him. Mr. Carvel's last words - will never be known, my dears. They sounded in the unfeeling ears of the - serpent Grafton. 'Twas said that he was seen coming out of his father's - house an hour after the demise, a smile on his face which he strove to - hide with a pucker of sorrow. But by God's grace Mr. Allen had not read - the prayers. The rector was at last removed from Annapolis, and had - obtained the fat living of Frederick which he coveted. - </p> - <p> - “As I hope for salvation,” the captain concluded, “I will swear there is - not such another villain in the world as Grafton. The imagination of a - fiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime he has - committed. And the Borgias were children to him. 'Twas not only the love - of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father. That was - his strongest motive, I believe. However, the days are coming, lad, when - he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail. And we have had enough of - sober talk,” said he, pressing me to eat. “Faith, but just now, when you - came in, I was thinking of you, Richard. And—God forgive me! - complaining against the lot of my life. And thinking, now that you were - taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone, how - little I had to live for. Now you are home again,” says he, his eyes - lighting on me with affection, “I count the gray hairs as nothing. Let us - have your story, and be merry. Nay, I might have guessed you had been in - London, with your fine clothes and your English servant.” - </p> - <p> - 'Twas a long story, as you know, my dears. He lighted his pipe and laid - his big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of that - which had happened to me. But I left out the whole of that concerning Mr. - Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of the sponging-house. - I believe my only motive for this omittance was a reluctance to dwell upon - Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father for her sake. He dropped many a - vigorous exclamation into my pauses, but when I came to speak of my - friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow clouded over. - </p> - <p> - “'Ad's heart!” he cried, “'Ad's heart! And so you are turned Tory, and - have at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved you - most. In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you, - Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice.” - </p> - <p> - I laughed aloud. - </p> - <p> - “And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton, and - Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship's seat?” said - I. - </p> - <p> - His honest face was a picture of consternation. - </p> - <p> - “Now the good Lord deliver us!” he exclaimed fervently. “Sandwich! - Grafton! The devil!” - </p> - <p> - I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I had heard - of Mr. Carvel's death. - </p> - <p> - “And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune,” I went on, “he - offered me a position under Government.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?” he said, his - face getting purple. “Are you Jack Carvel's son, or are you an impostor?” - </p> - <p> - “I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am here,” - I replied. “I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might have - converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently long,” I - added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, I related how I - had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat he gave a great, - joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back. - </p> - <p> - “You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!” And he called to Mr. Claude for another - bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association. He - peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. - Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? “I would not doubt a - Carvel's word,” says the captain, “(always excepting Grafton and his line, - as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend why Mr. Fox - and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion as you—and - after the speech you made 'em.” - </p> - <p> - I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friends cared - a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my frankness had - entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste for a bit - of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant, easy - nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set, without - aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between the - shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “It was so with Jack,” he cried; “thou art a replica. He would have made - friends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest of us - Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out of - England, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight with - Jack, tho' he gave them ample provocation. There was Tetherington, of the - 22d foot,—who jeered us for damned provincials, and swaggered - through three duels in a week,—would enter no quarrel with him. I - can hear him say: 'Damn you, Carvel, you may slap my face and you will, or - walk in ahead of me at the general's dinner and you will, but I like you - too well to draw at you. I would not miss your company at table for all - the world.' And when he was killed,” Captain Daniel continued, lowering - his voice, “some of them cried like women, Tetherington among 'em,—and - swore they would rather have lost their commissions at high play.” - </p> - <p> - We sat talking until the summer's dusk grew on apace, and one thing this - devoted lover of my family told me, which lightened my spirits of the - greatest burden that had rested upon them since my calamity befell me. I - had dwelt at length upon my Lord Comyn, and upon the weight of his - services to me, and touched upon the sum which I stood in his debt. The - captain interrupted me. - </p> - <p> - “One day, before your mother died, she sent for me,” said he, “and I came - to Carvel Hall. You were too young to remember. It was in September, and - she was sitting on the seat under the oak she loved so well,—by Dr. - Hilliard's study. - </p> - <p> - “The lace shawl your father had given her was around her shoulders, and - upon her face was the smile that gave me a pang to see. For it had - something of heaven in it, Richard. She called me 'Daniel' then for the - second time in her life. She bade me be seated beside her. 'Daniel,' she - said, 'when I am gone, and father is gone, it is you who will take care of - Richard. I sometimes believe all may not be well then, and that he will - need you.' I knew she was thinking of Grafton,” said the captain. “'I have - a little money of my own, Daniel, which I have saved lately with this in - view. I give it into your charge, and if trouble comes to him, my old - friend, you will use it as you see fit.' - </p> - <p> - “It was a bit under a thousand pounds, Richard. And when she died I put it - out under Mr. Carroll's direction at safe interest. So that you have - enough to discharge your debt, and something saved against another - emergency.” - </p> - <p> - He fell silent, sunk into one of those reveries which the memory of my - mother awoke in him. My own thoughts drifted across the sea. I was again - at the top of the stairs in Arlington Street, and feeling the dearest - presence in the world. The pale oval of Dorothy's face rose before me and - the troubled depths of her blue eyes. And I heard once more the tremble in - her voice as she confessed, in words of which she took no heed, that love - for which I had sought in vain. - </p> - <p> - The summer dusk was gathering. Outside, under the cherry trees, I saw - Banks holding forth to an admiring circle of negro 'ostlers. And presently - Mr. Claude came in to say that Shaw, the town carpenter, and Sol Mogg, the - ancient sexton of St. Anne's, and several more of my old acquaintances - were without, and begged the honour of greeting me. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLIV. NOBLESSE OBLIGE - </h2> - <p> - I lay that night in Captain Clapsaddle's lodgings opposite, and slept - soundly. Banks was on hand in the morning to assist at my toilet, and was - greatly downcast when I refused him this privilege, for the first time. - Captain Daniel was highly pleased with the honest fellow's devotion in - following me to America. To cheer him he began to question him as to my - doings in London, and the first thing of which Banks must tell was of the - riding-contest in Hyde Park, which I had omitted. It is easy to imagine - how this should have tickled the captain, who always had my horsemanship - at heart; and when it came to Chartersea's descent into the Serpentine, I - thought he would go into apoplexy. For he had put on flesh with the years. - </p> - <p> - The news of my return had spread all over town, so that I had a deal more - handshaking to do when we went to the Coffee House for breakfast. All the - quality were in the country, of course, save only four gentlemen of the - local Patriots' committee, of which Captain Daniel was a member, and with - whom he had an appointment at ten. It was Mr. Swain who arrived first of - the four. - </p> - <p> - This old friend of my childhood was a quiet man (I may not have - specified), thin, and a little under stature, with a receding but - thoughtful forehead. But he could express as much of joy and welcome in - his face and manner as could Captain Daniel with his heartier ways. - </p> - <p> - “It does me good to see you, lad,” he said, pressing my hand. “I heard you - were home, and sent off an express to Patty and the mother last night.” - </p> - <p> - “And are they not here?” I asked, with disappointment. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Swain smiled. - </p> - <p> - “I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little - plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton's. It will be my ruin,” he added. - “A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions.” - </p> - <p> - “A little plantation!” echoed the captain. “'Od's life, he has bought one - of his Lordship's own manors—as good an estate as there is in the - province.” - </p> - <p> - “You overdo it, Daniel,” said he, reprovingly. - </p> - <p> - At that moment there was a stir in the doorway, and in came Mr. Carroll, - the barrister, and Mr. Bordley and Colonel Lloyd. These gentlemen gave me - such a welcome as those warm-hearted planters and lawyers knew how to - bestow. - </p> - <p> - “What, he!” cried Mr. Lloyd, “I'm stamped and taxed if it isn't young - Richard Carvel himself. Well,” says he, “I know one who will sleep easier - o' nights now,—one Clapsaddle. The gray hairs are forgot, Daniel. We - had more to-do over your disappearance than when Mr. Worthington lost his - musical nigger. Where a deuce have you been, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “He shall tell us when we come back,” said Mr. Bordley. “He has brought - our worthy association to a standstill once, and now we must proceed about - our business. Will you come, Richard? I believe you have proved yourself a - sufficiently good patriot, and in this very house.” - </p> - <p> - We went down Church Street, I walking behind with Colonel Lloyd, and so - proud to be in such company that I cared not a groat whether Grafton had - my acres or not. I remembered that the committee all wore plain and sober - clothes, and carried no swords. Mr. Swain alone had a wig. I had been away - but seven months, and yet here was a perceptible change. In these - dignified and determined gentlemen England had more to fear than in all - the mobs at Mr. Wilkes's back. How I wished that Charles Fox might have - been with me. - </p> - <p> - The sun beat down upon the street. The shopkeepers were gathered at their - doors, but their chattering was hushed as the dreaded committee passed. - More than one, apparently, had tasted of its discipline. Colonel Lloyd - whispered to me to keep my countenance, that they were not after very - large game that morning,—only Chipchase, the butcher. And presently - we came upon the rascal putting up his shutters in much precipitation, - although it was noon. He had shed his blood-stained smock and breeches, - and donned his Sunday best,—a white, thick-set coat, country cloth - jacket, blue broadcloth breeches, and white shirt. A grizzled cut wig sat - somewhat awry under his bearskin hat. When he perceived Mr. Carroll at his - shoulder, he dropped his shutter against the wall, and began bowing - frantically. - </p> - <p> - “You keep good hours, Master Chipchase,” remarked Colonel Lloyd. - </p> - <p> - “And lose good customers,” Mr. Swain added laconically. - </p> - <p> - The butcher wriggled. - </p> - <p> - “Your honours must know there be little selling when the gentry be out of - town. And I was to take a holiday to-day, to see my daughter married.” - </p> - <p> - “You will have a feast, my good man?” Captain Daniel asked. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure, your honour, a feast.” - </p> - <p> - “And any little ewe-lambs?” says Mr. Bordley, very innocent. - </p> - <p> - Master Chipchase turned the colour of his meat, and his wit failed him. - </p> - <p> - “'Fourthly,'” recited Mr. Carroll, with an exceeding sober face, - “'Fourthly, that we will not kill, or suffer to be killed, or sell, or - dispose to any person whom we have reason to believe intends to kill, any - ewe-lamb that shall be weaned before the first day of May, in any year - during the time aforesaid.' Have you ever heard anything of that sound, - Mr. Chipchase?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Chipchase had. And if their honours pleased, he had a defence to make, - if their honours would but listen. And if their honours but knew, he was - as good a patriot as any in the province, and sold his wool to Peter - Psalter, and he wore the homespun in winter. Then Mr. Carroll drew a paper - from his pocket, and began to read: “Mr. Thomas Hincks, personally known - to me, deposeth and saith,—” - </p> - <p> - Master Chipchase's knees gave from under him. - </p> - <p> - “And your honours please,” he cried piteously, “I killed the lamb, but - 'twas at Mr. Grafton Carvel's order, who was in town with his Excellency.” - (Here Mr. Swain and the captain glanced significantly at me.) “And I lose - Mr. Carvel's custom, there is twelve pounds odd gone a year, your honours. - And I am a poor man, sirs.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is it owns your shop, my man?” asks Mr. Bordley, very sternly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I beg your honours will not have me put out—” - </p> - <p> - The wailing of his voice had drawn a crowd of idlers and brother - shopkeepers, who seemed vastly to enjoy the knave's discomfiture. Amongst - them I recognized my old acquaintance, Weld, now a rival butcher. He - pushed forward boldly. - </p> - <p> - “And your honours please,” said he, “he has sold lamb to half the Tory - gentry in Annapolis.” - </p> - <p> - “A lie!” cried Chipchase; “a lie, as God hears me!” - </p> - <p> - Now Captain Clapsaddle was one who carried his loves and his hatreds to - the grave, and he had never liked Weld since the day, six years gone by, - he had sent me into the Ship tavern. And when Weld heard the captain's - voice he slunk away without a word. - </p> - <p> - “Have a care, Master Weld,” says he, in a quiet tone that boded no good; - “there is more evidence against you than you will like.” - </p> - <p> - Master Chipchase, after being frightened almost out of his senses, was - pardoned this once by Captain Daniel's influence. We went thence to Mr. - Hildreth's shop; he was suspected of having got tea out of a South River - snow; then to Mr. Jackson's; and so on. 'Twas after two when we got back - to the Coffee House, and sat down to as good a dinner as Mr. Claude could - prepare. “And now,” cried Colonel Lloyd, “we shall have your adventures, - Richard. I would that your uncle were here to listen to them,” he added - dryly. - </p> - <p> - I recited them very much as I had done the night before, and I warrant - you, my dears, that they listened with more zest and eagerness than did - Mr. Walpole. But they were all shrewd men, and kept their suspicions, if - they had any, to themselves. Captain Daniel would have me omit nothing,—my - intimacy with Mr. Fox, the speech at Brooks's Club, and the riding-match - at Hyde Park. - </p> - <p> - “What say you to that, gentlemen?” he cried. “Egad, I'll be sworn he - deserves credit,—an arrant young spark out of the Colonies, scarce - turned nineteen, defeating a duke of the realm on horseback, and preaching - the gospel of 'no taxation' at Brooks's Club! Nor the favour of Sandwich - or March could turn him from his principles.” - </p> - <p> - Modesty, my dears, does not permit me to picture the enthusiasm of these - good gentlemen, who bore the responsibility of the colony of Maryland upon - their shoulders. They made more of me than I deserved. In vain did I seek - to explain that if a young man was but well-born, and had a full purse and - a turn for high play, his principles might go hang, for all Mr. Fox cared. - Colonel Lloyd commanded that the famous rose punch-bowl be filled to the - brim with Mr. Claude's best summer brew, and they drank my health and my - grandfather's memory. It mattered little to them that I was poor. They - vowed I should not lose by my choice. Mr. Bordley offered me a home, and - added that I should have employment enough in the days to come. Mr. - Carroll pressed me likewise. And big-hearted Colonel Lloyd desired to send - me to King's College, as was my grandfather's wish, where Will Fotheringay - and my cousin Philip had been for a term. I might make a barrister of - myself. Mr. Swain alone was silent and thoughtful, but I did not for an - instant doubt that he would have done as much for me. - </p> - <p> - Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions - concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his Majesty - and Parliament. I say without vanity that I was able to enlighten them not - a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the set into which I had - fallen in London than if I had become the confidant of Rockingham himself. - America was a long way from England in those days. I regretted that I had - not arrived in London in time to witness Lord Chatham's dramatic return to - politics in January, when he had completed the work of Junius, and broken - up the Grafton ministry. But I told them of the debate I had heard in St. - Stephen's, and made them laugh over Mr. Fox's rescue of the King's - friends, and the hustling of Mr. Burke from the Lords. - </p> - <p> - They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much - ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with - him. They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a - bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr. - Courtenay's letter had stated. I replied that it was so. I did not add - that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine. - Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall. I made no doubt these things - would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell them. - Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I would come - with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say to me. We went - the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him for avoiding - Marlboro' Street, which must needs bring me painful recollections. He said - little on the way. - </p> - <p> - I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered - porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely - empty without her. Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for us - under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree. The air was still, - and heavy with the flowers' scent, and the sun was dipping behind the low - eaves of the house. It was so natural to be there that I scarce realized - all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the picket fence. - Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it and over the - wall to Marlboro' Street. Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will, - Richard,” he began abruptly. “Altho' we thought never to see you again, we - have hoped against hope. I fear you have little chance for your property, - my lad.” - </p> - <p> - I replied that Captain Daniel had so led me to believe, and thanked him - for his kindness and his trouble. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas no trouble,” he replied quickly. “Indeed, I wish it might have - been. I shall always think of your grandfather with reverence and with - sorrow. He was a noble man, and was a friend to me, in spite of my - politics, when other gentlemen of position would not invite me to their - houses. It would be the greatest happiness of my life if I could restore - his property to you, where he would have had it go, and deprive that - villain, your uncle, of the fruits of his crime.” - </p> - <p> - “Then there is nothing to be got by contesting the will?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head soberly. - </p> - <p> - “I fear not at present,” said he, “nor can I with honesty hold out any - hope to you, Richard. Your uncle, by reason of his wealth, is a man of - undue influence with the powers of the colony. Even if he were not so, I - doubt greatly whether we should be the gainers. The will is undoubtedly - genuine. Mr. Carvel thought you dead, and we cannot prove undue influence - by Grafton unless we also prove that it was he who caused your abduction. - Do you think you can prove that?” - </p> - <p> - “There is one witness,” I exclaimed, “who overheard my uncle and Mr. Allen - talking of South River and Griggs, the master of the slaver, in the - stables at Carvel Hall.” - </p> - <p> - “And who is that?” demanded Mr. Swain, with more excitement than I - believed him capable of. - </p> - <p> - “Old Harvey.” - </p> - <p> - Your grandfather's coachman? Alas, he died the day after Mr. Carvel, and - was buried the same afternoon. Have you spoken of this?” - </p> - <p> - “Not to a soul,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Then I would not. You will have to be very careful and say nothing, - Richard. Let me hear what other reasons you have for believing that your - uncle tried to do away with you.” - </p> - <p> - I told him, lucidly as possible, everything I have related in these pages, - and the admission of Griggs. He listened intently, shaking his head now - and then, but not a word out of him. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said at length, “nothing is there which will be admitted, but - enough to damn him if you yourself might be a witness. I will give you the - law, briefly: descendible estates among us are of two kinds, estates in - fee simple and estates in fee tail. Had your grandfather died without a - will, his estate, which we suppose to be in fee simple, would have - descended to you as the son of his eldest son, according to the fourth of - the canons of descent in Blackstone. But with us fee simple estates are - devisable, and Mr. Carvel was wholly within his right in cutting off the - line of his eldest son. Do you follow me?” - </p> - <p> - I nodded. - </p> - <p> - “There is one chance,” he continued, “and that is a very slim one. I said - that Mr. Carvel's estate was supposed to be in fee simple. Estates tail - are not devisable. Our system of registration is far from infallible, and - sometimes an old family settlement turns up to prove that a property which - has been willed out of the direct line, as in fee simple, is in reality - entailed. Is there a possibility of any such document?” - </p> - <p> - I replied that I did not know. My grandfather had never brought up the - subject. - </p> - <p> - “We must bend our efforts in that direction,” said the barrister. “I shall - have my clerks make a systematic search.” - </p> - <p> - He ceased talking, and sat sipping his sangaree in the abstracted manner - common to him. I took the opportunity to ask about his family, thinking - about what Dolly had said of Patty's illness. - </p> - <p> - “The mother is as well as can be expected, Richard, and Patty very rosy - with the country air. Your disappearance was a great shock to them both.” - </p> - <p> - “And Tom?” - </p> - <p> - He went behind his reserve. “Tom is a d—d rake,” he exclaimed, with - some vehemence. “I have given him over. He has taken up with that macaroni - Courtenay, who wins his money,—or rather my money,—and your - cousin Philip, when he is home from King's College. How Tom can be son of - mine is beyond me, in faith. I see him about once in two months, when he - comes here with a bill for his satins and his ruffles, and along face of - repentance, and a lot of gaming debts to involve my honour. And that - reminds me, Richard,” said he, looking straight at me with his clear, dark - eyes: “have you made any plans for your future?” - </p> - <p> - I ventured to ask his advice as to entering the law. - </p> - <p> - “As the only profession open to a gentleman,” he replied, smiling a - little. “No, you were no more cut out for an attorney, or a barrister, or - a judge, than was I for a macaroni doctor. The time is not far away, my - lad,” he went on, seeing my shame and confusion, “when an American may - amass money in any way he chooses, and still be a gentleman, behind a - counter, if he will.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not fear work, Mr. Swain,” I remarked, with some pride. - </p> - <p> - “That is what I have been thinking,” he said shortly. “And I am not a man - to make up my mind while you count three, Richard. I have the place in - Talbot, and no one to look after it. And—and in short I think you - are the man.” - </p> - <p> - He paused to watch the effect of this upon me. But I was so taken aback by - this new act of kindness that I could not say a word. - </p> - <p> - “Tom is fast going to the devil, as I told you,” he continued. “He cannot - be trusted. If I die, that estate shall be Patty's, and he may never - squander it. Captain Daniel tells me, and Mr. Bordley also, that you - managed at Carvel Hall with sense and ability. I know you are very young, - but I think I may rely upon you.” - </p> - <p> - Again he hesitated, eying me fixedly. - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said he, with his quiet smile, “it is the old noblesse oblige. How - many careers has it ruined since the world began!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLV. THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES - </h2> - <p> - I was greatly touched, and made Mr. Swain many awkward acknowledgments, - which he mercifully cut short. I asked him for a while to think over his - offer. This seemed to please rather than displease him. And my first - impulse on reaching the inn was to ask the captain's advice. I thought - better of it however, and at length resolved to thrash out the matter for - myself. - </p> - <p> - The next morning, as I sat reflecting, an overwhelming desire seized me to - go to Marlboro' Street. Hitherto I could not have borne the sight of the - old place. I gulped down my emotion as the gate creaked behind me, and - made my way slowly to the white seat under the big chestnut behind the - house, where my grandfather had been wont to sit reading his prints, in - the warm weather. The flowers and the hedges had grown to a certain - wildness; and the smell of the American roses carried me back-as odours - will-to long-forgotten and trivial scenes. Here I had been caned many a - day for Mr. Daaken's reports, and for earlier offences. And I recalled my - mother as she once ran out at the sound of my cries to beg me off. So - vivid was that picture that I could hear Mr. Carvel say: “He is yours, - madam, not mine. Take him!” - </p> - <p> - I started up. The house was still, the sun blistering the green paint of - the shutters. My eye was caught by those on the room that had been hers, - and which, by my grandfather's decree, had lain closed since she left it. - The image of it grew in my mind: the mahogany bed with its poppy - counterpane and creamy curtains, and the steps at the side by which she - was wont to enter it; and the 'prie-dieu', whence her soul had been lifted - up to God. And the dresser with her china and silver upon it, covered by - years of dust. For I had once stolen the key from Willis's bunch, crept - in, and crept out again, awed. That chamber would be profaned, now, and - those dear ornaments, which were mine, violated. The imagination choked - me. - </p> - <p> - I would have them. I must. Nothing easier than to pry open a door or - window in the north wing, by the ball-room. When I saw Grafton I would - tell him. Nay, I would write him that day. I was even casting about me for - an implement, when I heard a step on the gravel beside me. - </p> - <p> - I swung around, and came face to face with my uncle. - </p> - <p> - He must have perceived me. And after the first shock of my surprise had - passed, I remarked a bearing on him that I had not seen before. He was - master of the situation at last,—so it read. The realization gave - him an easier speech than ever. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I might find you here, Richard,” he said, “since you were not - at the Coffee House.” - </p> - <p> - He did not offer me his hand. I could only stare at him, for I had - expected anything but this. - </p> - <p> - “I came from Carvel Hall to get you,” he proceeded smoothly enough. “I - heard but yesterday of your return, and some of your miraculous - adventures. Your recklessness has caused us many a trying day, Richard, - and I believe killed your grandfather. You have paid dearly, and have made - us pay dearly, for your mad frolic of fighting cut-throats on the - highroad.” - </p> - <p> - The wonder was that I did not kill him on the spot. I cannot think what - possessed the man,—he must have known me better. - </p> - <p> - “My recklessness!” I shouted, fairly hoarse with anger. I paid no heed to - Mr. Swain's warning. “You d—d scoundrel!” I cried, “it was you - killed him, and you know it. When you had put me out of the way and he was - in your power, you tortured him to death. You forced him to die alone with - your sneering face, while your shrew of a wife counted cards downstairs. - Grafton Carvel, God knows you better than I, who know you two well. And He - will punish you as sure as the crack of doom.” - </p> - <p> - He heard me through, giving back as I came forward, his face blanching - only a little, and wearing all the time that yellow smile which so fitted - it. - </p> - <p> - “You have finished?” says he. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I have finished. And now you may order me from this ground you have - robbed me of. But there are some things in that house you shall not steal, - for they are mine despite you.” - </p> - <p> - “Name them, Richard,” he said, very sorrowful. - </p> - <p> - “The articles in my mother's room, which were hers.” - </p> - <p> - “You shall have them this day,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - It was his way never to lose his temper, tho' he were called by the vilest - name in the language. He must always assume this pious grief which made me - long to throttle him. He had the best of me, even now, as he took the - great key from his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Will you look at them before you go?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - At first I was for refusing. Then I nodded. He led the way silently around - by the front; and after he had turned the lock he stepped aside with a bow - to let me pass in ahead of him. Once more I was in the familiar hall with - the stairs dividing at the back. It was cool after the heat, and musty, - and a touch of death hung in the prisoned air. We paused for a moment on - the landing, beside the high, triple-arched window which the branches - tapped on windy winter days, while Grafton took down the bunch of keys - from beside the clock. I thought of my dear grandfather winding it every - Sunday, and his ruddy face and large figure as he stood glancing sidewise - down at me. Then the sound of Grafton's feet upon the bare steps recalled - the present. - </p> - <p> - We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the - ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open the - window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not foreign - to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when at last - it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the ray of - sunlight from the window. I entered reverently. I took only the - silverbound prayer-book, cast a lingering look at the old familiar objects - dimly defined, and came out and locked the door again. I said very quietly - that I would send for the things that afternoon, for my anger was hushed - by what I had seen. - </p> - <p> - We halted together on the uncovered porch in front of the house, that had - a seat set on each side of it. Marlboro' Street was still, the wide trees - which flanked it spreading their shade over walk and roadway. Not a soul - was abroad in the midday heat, and the windows of the long house opposite - were sightless. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” said my uncle, staring ahead of him, “I came to offer you a - home, and you insult me brutally, as you have done unreproved all your - life. And yet no one shall say of me that I shirk my duty. But first I - must ask you if there is aught else you desire of me.” - </p> - <p> - “The black boy, Hugo, is mine,” I said. I had no great love for Hugo, save - for association's sake, and I had one too many servants as it was; but to - rescue one slave from Grafton's clutches was charity. - </p> - <p> - “You shall have him,” he replied, “and your chaise, and your wardrobe, and - your horses, and whatever else I have that belongs to you. As I was - saying, I will not shirk my duty. The memory of my dear father, and of - what he would have wished, will not permit me to let you go a-begging. You - shall be provided for out of the estate, despite what you have said and - done.” - </p> - <p> - This was surely the quintessence of a rogue's imagination. Instinctively I - shrank from him. With a show of piety that 'turned me sick he continued: - </p> - <p> - “Let God witness that I carry out my father's will!” - </p> - <p> - “Stop there, Grafton Carvel!” I cried; “you shall not take His name in - vain. Under this guise of holiness you and your accomplice have done the - devil's own work, and the devil will reward you.” - </p> - <p> - This reference to Mr. Allen, I believe, frightened him. For a second only - did he show it. - </p> - <p> - “My—my accomplice, sir!” he stammered. And then righting himself: - “You will have to explain this, by Heaven.” - </p> - <p> - “In ample time your plot shall be laid bare, and you and his Reverence - shall hang, or lie in chains.” - </p> - <p> - “You threaten, Mr. Carvel?” he shouted, nearly stepping off the porch in - his excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, I predict,” I replied calmly. And I went down the steps and out of - the gate, he looking after me. Before I had turned the corner of - Freshwater Lane, he was in the seat, and fanning himself with his hat. - </p> - <p> - I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the - good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between - the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard of - my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son (for the - fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no more help - flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or Cynthia his - back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my recital, when - Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker, which caused Mr. - Swain to let out a whistle of surprise. - </p> - <p> - “So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel,” said he. “I thought so.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put - his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man - was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to - talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which he - enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of Mr. - Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate lying - in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less of - arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the - indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard - Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare of - his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his - obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the - acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing - forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel. This - condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not understand a - word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in English. His quiet - laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger, who had before been - sufficiently ill at ease in the presence of the great lawyer. Mr. Tucker - blew his nose loudly to hide his confusion. - </p> - <p> - “And what say you, Richard?” said Mr. Swain, without a shade of accent in - his voice. - </p> - <p> - I bowed my head. I knew that the honest barrister had read my heart when - he spoke of noblesse oblige. That senseless pride of cast, so deep-rooted - in those born in our province, had made itself felt. To be a factor (so I - thought, for I was young) was to renounce my birth. Until that moment of - travail the doctrine of equality had seemed very pretty to me. Your fine - gentleman may talk as nobly as he pleases over his Madeira, and yet would - patronize Monsieur Rousseau if he met him; and he takes never a thought of - those who knuckle to him every day, and clean his boots and collect his - rents. But when he is tried in the fire, and told suddenly to collect some - one else's rents and curse another's negroes, he is fainthearted for the - experiment. So it was with me when I had to meet the issue. I might take - Grafton's offer, and the chance to marry Dorothy was come again. For by - industry the owner of the Kent lands would become rich. - </p> - <p> - The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies. When I - looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me. - </p> - <p> - “You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer,” I said. - </p> - <p> - He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble servitude - bowed himself out. - </p> - <p> - The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands. - </p> - <p> - “What said I, Henry?” he cried. “Did I not know the lad?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat. He was still gazing at me with a - curious expression. And then I saw the world in truer colour. This good - Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for my - rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and - obscurity. I stood, humbled before him. - </p> - <p> - “I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain,” I said, vainly trying to steady - my voice, “but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed me here - from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my uncle. I - will make over the black to you and you will have him.” - </p> - <p> - He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm. “You and - the captain dine with me to-day,” says he. “And as for Banks, I think that - can be arranged. Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained butler, - egad. I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard. But we'll be - off for Cordon's Pride in the morning, and I know of one little girl will - be glad to see us.” - </p> - <p> - We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street. And the captain - argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker's visit betrayed a weak point in - Grafton's position. But the barrister shook his head and said that Grafton - was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared me. It was Mr. - Swain's opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put himself in a good - light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little revenge mixed therein, as - the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had given him when he cast him off. - </p> - <p> - A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain and - I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next morning. - We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on the soil of - my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past Master - Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for it is there - that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and Wilmot House; - and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the horse's neck, so - that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of comment when I - overtook him again. - </p> - <p> - 'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected at - the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly - wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt. He - drew up, and glanced at me. - </p> - <p> - “You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these,” said - he. “The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than husbandmen, - and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a rat to a boar cat. - That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore gentlemen, especially in - Dorchester,” he added; “they get to be fishmongers.” - </p> - <p> - Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in - Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That day - the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered about - it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and youthful - figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood immovable. It - was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves rolled up, and her - face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse and took her hands. - </p> - <p> - “So you like my surprise, girl?” said her father, as he kissed her - blushing face. - </p> - <p> - For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad - porch in front. - </p> - <p> - “Our barrister is come, mother,” we heard her exclaiming, “and whom do you - think he has brought?” - </p> - <p> - “Is it Richard?” asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual. - </p> - <p> - I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She was - smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me - toward her, kissing me on both cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “I thank God for His goodness,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “And the boy has come to stay, mother,” said her husband, as he stooped - over her. - </p> - <p> - “To stay!” cries Patty. - </p> - <p> - “Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home,” replied the barrister. “And now I - can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will be - well looked after.” - </p> - <p> - Patty gasped. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I am so glad!” said she, “I could almost rejoice that his uncle - cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?” - </p> - <p> - “He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear,” says her father, smiling - and tilting her chin; “we shall have no such persons as factors here.” - </p> - <p> - At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, and - then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, Percy - Singleton. - </p> - <p> - “May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard,” said he, in his manly way; “and - rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Percy,” I answered. I was not in a state to say much more. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” exclaims Patty, “what a dinner we shall have in the prodigal's - honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. Brice told me - of.” - </p> - <p> - She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing in - the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLVI. GORDON'S PRIDE - </h2> - <p> - The years of a man's life that count the most are often those which may be - passed quickest in the story of it. And so I may hurry over the first - years I spent as Mr. Swain's factor at Gordon's Pride. The task that came - to my hand was heaven-sent. - </p> - <p> - That manor-house, I am sure, was the tidiest in all Maryland, thanks to - Patty's New England blood. She was astir with the birds of a morning, and - near the last to retire at night, and happy as the days were long. She was - ever up to her elbows in some dish, and her butter and her biscuits were - the best in the province. Little she cared to work samplers, or peacocks - in pretty wools, tho' in some way she found the time to learn the spinet. - As the troubles with the mother country thickened, she took to a - foot-wheel, and often in the crisp autumn evenings I would hear the - bumping of it as I walked to the house, and turn the knob to come upon her - spinning by the twilight. She would have no English-made linen in that - household. “If mine scratch your back, Richard,” she would say, “you must - grin and bear, and console yourself with your virtue.” It was I saw to the - flax, and learned from Ivie Rawlinson (who had come to us from Carvel - Hall) the best manner to ripple and break and swingle it. And Mr. Swain, - in imitation of the high example set by Mr. Bordley, had buildings put up - for wheels and the looms, and in due time kept his own sheep. - </p> - <p> - If man or woman, white or black, fell sick on the place, it was Patty - herself who tended them. She knew the virtue of every herb in the big - chest in the storeroom. And at table she presided over her father's guests - with a womanliness that won her more admiration than mine. Now that the - barrister was become a man of weight, the house was as crowded as ever was - Carvel Hall. Carrolls and Pacas and Dulanys and Johnsons, and Lloyds and - Bordleys and Brices and Scotts and Jennings and Ridouts, and Colonel - Sharpe, who remained in the province, and many more families of prominence - which I have not space to mention, all came to Gordon's Pride. Some of - these, as their names proclaim, were of the King's side; but the bulk of - Mr. Swain's company were stanch patriots, and toasted Miss Patty instead - of his Majesty. By this I do not mean that they lacked loyalty, for it is - a matter of note that our colony loved King George. - </p> - <p> - I must not omit from the list above the name of my good friend, Captain - Clapsaddle. - </p> - <p> - Nor was there lack of younger company. Betty Tayloe, who plied me with - questions concerning Dorothy and London, but especially about the dashing - and handsome Lord Comyn; and the Dulany girls, and I know not how many - others. Will Fotheringay, when he was home from college, and Archie Brice, - and Francis Willard (whose father was now in the Assembly) and half a - dozen more to court Patty, who would not so much as look at them. And when - I twitted her with this she would redden and reply: “I was created for a - housewife, sir, and not to make eyes from behind a fan.” Indeed, she was - at her prettiest and best in the dimity frock, with the sleeves rolled up. - </p> - <p> - 'Twas a very merry place, the manor of Gordon's Pride. A generous bowl of - punch always stood in the cool hall, through which the south winds swept - from off the water, and fruit and sangaree and lemonade were on the table - there. The manor had no ball-room, but the negro fiddlers played in the - big parlour. And the young folks danced till supper time. In three months - Patty's suppers grew famous in a colony where there was no lack of good - cooks. - </p> - <p> - The sweet-natured invalid enjoyed these festivities in her quiet way, and - often pressed me to partake. So did Patty beg me, and Mr. Swain. Perhaps a - false sense of pride restrained me, but my duties held me all day in the - field, and often into the night when there was curing to be done, or some - other matters of necessity. And for the rest, I thought I detected a - change in the tone of Mr. Fotheringay, and some others, tho' it may have - been due to sensibility on my part. I would put up with no patronage. - </p> - <p> - There was no change of tone, at least, with the elder gentlemen. They - plainly showed me an added respect. And so I fell into the habit, after my - work was over, of joining them in their suppers rather than the sons and - daughters. There I was made right welcome. The serious conversation spiced - with the wit of trained barristers and men of affairs better suited my - changed condition of life. The times were sober, and for those who could - see, a black cloud was on each horizon. 'Twas only a matter of months when - the thunder-clap was to come-indeed, enough was going on within our own - province to forebode a revolution. The Assembly to which many of these gentlemen - belonged was in a righteous state of opposition to the Proprietary and the - Council concerning the emoluments of colonial officers and of clergymen. - Honest Governor Eden had the misfortune to see the justice of our side, - and was driven into a seventh state by his attempts to square his - conscience. Bitter controversies were waging in the Gazette, and names - were called and duels fought weekly. For our cause “The First Citizen” led - the van, and the able arguments and moderate language of his letters soon - identified him as Mr. Charles Carroll of Carrollton, one of the greatest - men Maryland has ever known. But even at Mr. Swain's, amongst his few - intimate friends, Mr. Carroll could never be got to admit his 'nom de - guerre' until long after 'Antilon' had been beaten. - </p> - <p> - I write it with pride, that at these suppers I was sometimes asked to - speak; and, having been but lately to England, to give my opinion upon the - state of affairs there. Mr. Carroll honoured me upon two occasions with - his confidence, and I was made clerk to a little club they had, and kept - the minutes in my own hand. - </p> - <p> - I went about in homespun, which, if good enough for Mr. Bordley, was good - enough for me. I rode with him over the estate. This gentleman was the - most accomplished and scientific farmer we had in the province. Having - inherited his plantation on Wye Island, near Carvel Hall, he resigned his - duties as judge, and a lucrative practice, to turn all his energies to the - cultivation of the soil. His wheat was as eagerly sought after as was - Colonel Washington's tobacco. - </p> - <p> - It was to Mr. Bordley's counsel that the greater part of my success was - due. He taught me the folly of ploughing with a fluke,—a custom to - which the Eastern Shore was wedded, pointing out that a double surface was - thus exposed to the sun's rays; and explained at length why there was more - profit in small grain in that district than heavy tobacco. He gave me Dr. - Eliot's “Essays on Field Husbandry,” and Mill's “Husby,” which I read from - cover to cover. And I went from time to time to visit him at Wye Island, - when he would canter with me over that magnificent plantation, and show me - with pride the finished outcome of his experiments. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Swain's affairs kept him in town the greater part of the twelve - months, and Mrs. Swain and Patty moved to Annapolis in the autumn. But for - three years I was at Cordon's Pride winter and summer alike. At the end of - that time I was fortunate enough to show my employer such substantial - results as to earn his commendation—ay, and his confidence, which - was the highest token of that man's esteem. The moneys of the estate he - left entirely at my order. And in the spring of '73, when the opportunity - was suddenly offered to buy a thousand acres of excellent wheat land - adjoining, I made the purchase for him while he was at Williamsburg, and - upon my own responsibility. - </p> - <p> - This connected the plantation on the east with Singleton's. It had been my - secret hope that the two estates might one day be joined in marriage. For - of all those who came a-courting Patty, Percy was by far the best. He was - but a diffident suitor; he would sit with me on the lawn evening after - evening, when company was there, while Fotheringay and Francis Willard - made their compliments within,—silly flatteries, at which Patty - laughed. - </p> - <p> - Percy kept his hounds, and many a run we had together' in the sparkling - days that followed the busy summer, when the crops were safe in the - bottoms; or a quiet pipe and bottle in his bachelor's hall, after a - soaking on the duck points. - </p> - <p> - And this brings me to a subject on which I am loth to write. Where Mr. - Singleton was concerned, Patty, the kindest of creatures, was cruelty - itself. Once, when I had the effrontery to venture a word in his behalf, I - had been silenced so effectively as to make my ears tingle. A thousand - little signs led me to a conclusion which pained me more than I can - express. Heaven is my witness that no baser feeling leads me to hint of it - here. Every day while the garden lasted flowers were in my room, and it - was Banks who told me that she would allow no other hands than her own to - place them by my bed. He got a round rating from me for violating the - pledge of secrecy he had given her. It was Patty who made my shirts, and - on Christmas knitted me something of comfort; who stood on the horse-block - in the early morning waving after me as I rode away, and at my coming her - eyes would kindle with a light not to be mistaken. - </p> - <p> - None of these things were lost upon Percy Singleton, and I often wondered - why he did not hate me. He was of the kind that never shows a hurt. Force - of habit still sent him to Gordon's Pride, but for days he would have - nothing to say to the mistress of it, or she to him. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLVII. VISITORS - </h2> - <p> - It was not often that Mr. Thomas Swain honoured Gordon's Pride with his - presence. He vowed that the sober Whig company his father brought there - gave him the vapours. He snapped his fingers at the articles of the - Patriots' Association, and still had his cocked hats and his Brussels lace - and his spyglass, and his top boots when he rode abroad, like any other - Tory buck. His intimates were all of the King's side,—of the worst - of the King's side, I should say, for I would not be thought to cast any - slur on the great number of conscientious men of that party. But, being - the son of one of the main props of the Whigs, Mr. Tom went unpunished for - his father's sake. He was not uncondemned. - </p> - <p> - Up to 1774, the times that Mr. Swain mentioned his son to me might be - counted on the fingers of one hand. It took not a great deal of shrewdness - to guess that he had paid out many a pretty sum to keep Tom's honour - bright: as bright, at least, as such doubtful metal would polish. Tho' the - barrister sought my ear in many matters, I never heard a whimper out of - him on this score. - </p> - <p> - Master Tom had no ambition beyond that of being a macaroni; his easy-going - nature led him to avoid alike trouble and responsibility. Hence he did not - bother his head concerning my position. He appeared well content that I - should make money out of the plantation for him to spend. His visits to - Gordon's Pride were generally in the late autumn, and he brought his own - company with him. I recall vividly his third or fourth appearance, in - October of '73. Well I may! The family was preparing to go to town, and - this year I was to follow them, and take from Mr. Swain's shoulders some - of his private business, for he had been ailing a little of late from - overwork. - </p> - <p> - The day of which I have spoken a storm had set in, the rain falling in - sheets. I had been in the saddle since breakfast, seeing to an hundred - repairs that had to be made before the cold weather. 'Twas near the middle - of the afternoon when I pulled up before the weaving house. The looms were - still, and Patty met me at the door with a grave look, which I knew - portended something. But her first words were of my comfort. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, will you ever learn sense? You have been wet all day long, and - have missed your dinner. Go at once and change your clothes, sir!” she - commanded severely. - </p> - <p> - “I have first to look at the warehouse, where the roof is leaking,” I - expostulated. - </p> - <p> - “You shall do no such thing,” replied she, “but dry yourself, and march - into the dining room. We have had the ducks you shot yesterday, and some - of your experimental hominy; but they are all gone.” - </p> - <p> - I knew well she had laid aside for me some dainty, as was her habit. I - dismounted. She gave me a quick, troubled glance, and said in a low voice: - </p> - <p> - “Tom is come. And oh, I dare not tell you whom he has with him now!” - </p> - <p> - “Courtenay?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, of coarse. I hate the sight of the man. But your cousin, Philip - Carvel, is here, Richard. Father will be very angry. And they are making a - drinking-tavern of the house.” - </p> - <p> - I gave Firefly a slap that sent her trotting stable-ward, and walked - rapidly to the house. I found the three of them drinking in the hall, the - punch spilled over the table, and staining the cards. - </p> - <p> - “Gad's life!” cries Tom, “here comes Puritan Richard, in his broad rim. - How goes the crop, Richard? 'Twill have to go well, egad, for I lost an - hundred at the South River Club last week!” - </p> - <p> - Next him sat Philip, whom I had not seen since before I was carried off. - He was lately come home from King's College; and very mysteriously, his - father giving out that his health was not all it should be. He had not - gained Grafton's height, but he was broader, and his face had something in - it of his father. He had his mother's under lip and complexion. Grafton - was sallow; Philip was a peculiar pink,—not the ruddy pink of - heartier natures, like my grandfather's, nor yet had he the peach-like - skin of Mr. Dix. Philip's was a darker and more solid colour, and I have - never seen man or woman with it and not mistrusted them. He wore a red - velvet coat embroidered with gold, and as costly ruffles as I had ever - seen in London. But for all this my cousin had a coarse look, and his - polished blue flints of eyes were those of a coarse man. - </p> - <p> - He got to his feet as Tom spoke, looking anywhere but at me, and came - forward slowly. He was loyal to no one, was Philip, not even to his - father. When he was got within three paces he halted. - </p> - <p> - “How do you, cousin?” says he. - </p> - <p> - “A little wet, as you perceive, Philip,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - I left him and stood before the fire, my rough wool steaming in the heat. - He sat down again, a little awkwardly; and the situation began to please - me better. - </p> - <p> - “How do you?” I asked presently. - </p> - <p> - “I have got a devilish cold,” said he. “Faith, I'll warrant the doctor - will be sworn I have been but indifferent company since we left the Hall. - Eh, doctor?” - </p> - <p> - Courtenay, with his feet stretched out, bestowed an amiable but languid - wink upon me, as much as to say that I knew what Mr. Philip's company was - at best. When I came out after my dinner, they were still sitting there, - Courtenay yawning, and Tom and Philip wrangling over last night's play. - </p> - <p> - “Come, my man of affairs, join us a hand!” says the doctor to me. “I have - known the time when you would sit from noon until supper.” - </p> - <p> - “I had money then,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “And you have a little now, or I am cursed badly mistook. Oons! what do - you fear?” he exclaimed, “you that have played with March and Fox?” - </p> - <p> - “I fear nothing, doctor,” I answered, smiling. “But a man must have a - sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital.” - </p> - <p> - “One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume,” says he, with sarcasm. - </p> - <p> - “And if it were, it could scarce be more pat,” I retorted. “'Tis Poor - Richard's maxim.” - </p> - <p> - “O lud! O my soul!” cries Tom, with a hiccup and a snigger; “'tis time you - made another grand tour, Courtenay. Here's the second Whig has got in on - you within the week!” - </p> - <p> - “Thank God they have not got me down to osnabrig and bumbo yet,” replies - the doctor. Coming over to me by the fire, he tapped my sleeve and added - in a low tone: “Forbearance with such a pair of asses is enough to make a - man shed bitter tears. But a little of it is necessary to keep out of - debt. You and I will play together, against both the lambs, Richard. One - of them is not far from maudlin now.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, doctor,” I answered politely, “but I have a better way to make - my living.” In three years I had learned a little to control my temper. - </p> - <p> - He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Eh bien, mon bon,” says he, “I dare swear - you know your own game better than do I.” And he cast a look up the - stairs, of which I quite missed the meaning. Indeed, I was wholly - indifferent. The doctor and his like had passed out of my life, and I - believed they were soon to disappear from our Western Hemisphere. The - report I had heard was now confirmed, that his fortune was dissipated, and - that he lived entirely off these young rakes who aspired to be macaronies. - </p> - <p> - “Since your factor is become a damned Lutheran, Tom,” said he, returning - to the table and stripping a pack, “it will have to be picquet. You - promised me we could count on a fourth, or I had never left Inman's.” - </p> - <p> - It was Tom, as I had feared, who sat down unsteadily opposite. Philip - lounged and watched them sulkily, snuffing and wheezing and dipping into - the bowl, and cursing the house for a draughty barn. I took a pipe on the - settle to see what would come of it. I was not surprised that Courtenay - lost at first, and that Tom drank the most of the punch. Nor was it above - half an hour before the stakes were raised and the tide began to turn in - the doctor's favour. - </p> - <p> - “A plague of you, Courtenay!” cries Mr. Tom, at length, flinging down the - cards. His voice was thick, while the Selwyn of Annapolis was never - soberer in his life. Tom appealed first to Philip for the twenty pounds he - owed him. - </p> - <p> - “You know how damned stingy my father is, curse you,” whined my cousin, in - return. “I told you I should not have it till the first of the month.” - </p> - <p> - Tom swore back. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and sank into that - attitude of dejection common to drunkards. Suddenly he pulled himself up. - </p> - <p> - “'Shblood! Here's Richard t' draw from. Lemme have fifty pounds, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “Not a farthing,” I said, unmoved. - </p> - <p> - “You say wha' shall be done with my father's money!” he cried. “I call - tha' damned cool—Gad's life! I do. Eh, Courtenay?” - </p> - <p> - Courtenay had the sense not to interfere. - </p> - <p> - “I'll have you dishcharged, Gads death! so I will!” he shouted. “No damned - airs wi' me, Mr. Carvel. I'll have you know you're not wha' you once were, - but, only a cursht oversheer.” - </p> - <p> - He struggled to his feet, forgot his wrath on the instant, and began to - sing drunkenly the words of a ribald air. I took him by both shoulders and - pushed him back into his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Be quiet,” I said sternly; “while your mother and sister are here you - shall not insult them with such a song.” He ceased, astonished. “And as - for you, gentlemen,” I continued, “you should know better than to make a - place of resort out of a gentleman's house.” - </p> - <p> - Courtenay's voice broke the silence that followed. - </p> - <p> - “Of all the cursed impertinences I ever saw, egad!” he drawled. “Is this - your manor, Mr. Carvel? Or have you a seat in Kent?” - </p> - <p> - I would not have it in black and white that I am an advocate of fighting. - But a that moment I was in the mood when it does not matter much one way - or the other. The drunken man carried us past the point. - </p> - <p> - “The damned in—intriguing rogue'sh worked himself into my father's - grashes,” he said, counting out his words. “He'sh no more Whig than me. I - know'sh game, Courtenay—he wants t' marry Patty. Thish place'll be - hers.” - </p> - <p> - The effect upon me of these words, with all their hideous implication of - gossip and scandal, was for an instant benumbing. The interpretation of - the doctor's innuendo struck me then. I was starting forward, with a hand - open to clap over Tom's mouth, when I saw the laugh die on Courtenay's - face, and him come bowing to his legs. I turned with a start. - </p> - <p> - On the stairs stood Patty herself, pale as marble. - </p> - <p> - “Come with me, Tom,” she said. - </p> - <p> - He had obeyed her from childhood. This time he tried, and failed - miserably. - </p> - <p> - “Beg pardon, Patty,” he stammered, “no offensh meant. Thish factor thinks - h' ownsh Gordon's now. I say, not'll h' marries you. Good fellow, Richard, - but infernal forward. Eh, Courtenay?” - </p> - <p> - Philip turned away, while the doctor pretended to examine the silver - punch-ladle. As for me, I could only stare. It was Patty who kept her - head, and made us a stately curtsey. - </p> - <p> - “Will you do me the kindness, gentlemen,” said she, “to leave me with my - brother?” - </p> - <p> - We walked silently into the parlour, and I closed the door. - </p> - <p> - “Slife!” cried Courtenay, “she's a vision. What say you, Philip? And I - might see her in that guise again, egad, I would forgive Tom his five - hundred crowns!” - </p> - <p> - “A buxom vision,” agreed my cousin, “but I vow I like 'em so.” He had - forgotten his cold. - </p> - <p> - “This conversation is all of a piece with the rest of your conduct,” said - I, hotly. - </p> - <p> - The candles were burning brightly in the sconces. The doctor walked to the - glass, took snuff, and burnished his waistcoat before he answered. - </p> - <p> - “Sure, a fortune lies under every virtue we assume,” he recited. “But she - is not for you, Richard,” says he, tapping his box. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel, if you please,” I replied. I felt the demon within me. But I - had the sense to realize that a quarrel with Dr. Courtenay, under the - circumstances, would be far from wise. He had no intention of quarrelling, - however. He made me a grand bow. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carvel, your very obedient. Hereafter I shall know better than to - forget myself with an overseer.” And he gave me his back. “What say you to - a game of billiards, Philip?” - </p> - <p> - Philip seemed glad to escape. And soon I heard their voices, mingling with - the click of the balls. There followed for me one of the bitterest half - hours I have had in my life. Then Patty opened the hall door. - </p> - <p> - “Will you come in for a moment, Richard?” she said, quite calmly. - </p> - <p> - I followed her, wondering at the masterful spirit she had shown. For there - was Tom all askew in his chair, his feet one way and his hands another, - totally subdued. What was most to the point, he made me an elaborate - apology. How she had sobered his mind I know not. His body was as helpless - as the day he was born. - </p> - <p> - Long before the guests thought of rising the next morning, Patty came to - me as I was having the mare saddled. The sun was up, and the clouds were - being chased, like miscreants who have played their prank, and were now - running for it. The sharp air brought the red into her cheeks. And for the - first time in her life with me she showed shyness. She glanced up into my - face, and then down at the leaves running on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “I hope they will go to-day,” said she, when I was ready to mount. - </p> - <p> - I began to tighten the girths, venting my feelings on Firefly until the - animal swung around and made a vicious pass at my arm. - </p> - <p> - “Richard!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not worry over that senseless speech of Tom's?” - </p> - <p> - “I see it in a properer light now, Patty,” I replied. “I usually do—in - the morning.” - </p> - <p> - She sighed. - </p> - <p> - “You are so—high-strung,” she said, “I was afraid you would—” - </p> - <p> - “I would—?” - </p> - <p> - She did not answer until I had repeated. - </p> - <p> - “I was very silly,” she said slowly, her colour mounting even higher,” I - was afraid that you would—leave us.” Stroking the mare's neck, and - with a little halt in her voice, “I do not know what we should do without - you.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, I was beginning to think I would better leave, though where I - should go was more than I could say. With a quick intuition she caught my - hand as I put foot in the stirrup. - </p> - <p> - “You will not go away!” she cried. “Say you will not! What would poor - father do? He is not so well as he used to be.” - </p> - <p> - The wild appeal in her eyes frightened me. It was beyond resisting. In - great agitation I put my foot to the ground again. - </p> - <p> - “Patty, I should be a graceless scamp in truth,” I exclaimed. “I do not - forget that your father gave me a home when mine was taken away, and has - made me one of his family. I shall thank God if I can but lighten some of - his burdens.” - </p> - <p> - But they did not depart that day, nor the next; nor, indeed, for a week - after. For Philip's cold brought on a high fever. He stuck to his bed, and - Patty herself made broth and dainties for him, and prescribed him medicine - out of the oak chest whence had come so much comfort. At first Philip - thought he would die, and forswore wine and cards, and some other things - the taste for which he had cultivated, and likewise worse vices that had - come to him by nature. - </p> - <p> - I am greatly pleased to write that the stay profited the gallant Dr. - Courtenay nothing. Patty's mature beauty and her manner of carrying off - the episode in the hall had made a deep impression upon the Censor. I read - the man's mind in his eye; here was a match to mend his fortunes, and do - him credit besides. However, his wit and his languishing glances and - double meanings fell on barren ground. No tire-woman on the plantation was - busier than Patty during the first few days of his stay. After that he - grew sulky and vented his spleen on poor Tom, winning more money from him - at billiards and picquet. Since the doctor was too much the macaroni to - ride to hounds and to shoot ducks, time began to hang exceeding heavy on - his hands. - </p> - <p> - Patty and I had many a quiet laugh over his predicament. And, to add zest - to the situation, I informed Singleton of what was going forward. He came - over every night for supper, and to my delight the bluff Englishman was - received in a fashion to make the doctor writhe and snort with - mortification. Never in his life had he been so insignificant a person. - And he, whose conversation was so sought after in the gay season in town, - was thrown for companionship upon a scarce-grown boy whose talk was about - as salted, and whose intellect as great, as those of the cockerouse in our - fable. He stood it about a se'nnight, at the end of which space Philip was - put on his horse, will-he-nill-he, and made to ride northward. - </p> - <p> - I sat with my cousin of an evening as he lay in bed. Not, I own, from any - charity on my part, but from other motives which do me no credit. The - first night he confessed his sins, and they edified me not a little. On - the second he was well enough to sit up and swear, and to vow that Miss - Swain was an angel; that he would marry her the very next week and his - father Grafton were not such a stickler for family. - </p> - <p> - “Curse him,” says his dutiful and loyal son, “he is so bally stingy with - my stipend that I am in debt to half the province. And I say it myself, - Richard, he has been a blackguard to you, tho' I allow him some little - excuse. You were faring better now, my dear cousin, and you had not given - him every reason to hate you. For I have heard him declare more than once - 'pon my soul, I have—that he would rather you were his friend than - his enemy.” - </p> - <p> - My contempt for Philip kept me silent here. I might quarrel with Grafton, - who had sense enough to feel pain at a well deserved thrust. Philip had - not the intelligence to recognize insult from compliment. It was but - natural he should mistake my attitude now. He leaned forward in his bed. - </p> - <p> - “Hark you, Richard,” whispers he, with a glance at the door, “I might tell - you some things and I chose, and—and it were worth my while.” - </p> - <p> - “Worth your while?” I repeated vaguely. - </p> - <p> - He traced nervously the figures on the counterpane. Next came a rush of - anger to redden his face. - </p> - <p> - “By Gad, I will tell you. Swear to Gad I will.” Then, the little cunning - inherited from his father asserting itself, he added, “Look you, Richard, - I am the son of one of the richest men in the colony, and I get the - pittance of a backwoods pastor. I tell you 'tis not to be borne with. And - I am not of as much consideration at the Hall as Brady, the Irish convict, - who has become overseer.” - </p> - <p> - I little wondered at this. Philip sank back, and for some moments eyed me - between narrowed lids. He continued presently with shortened breath: - </p> - <p> - “I have evidence—I have evidence to get you back a good share of the - estate, which my father will never miss. And I will do it,” he cries, - suddenly bold, “I will do it for three thousand pounds down when you - receive it.” - </p> - <p> - This was why he had come with Tom to Talbot! I was so dumfounded that my - speech was quite taken away. Then I got up and began pacing the room. Was - it not fair to fight a scoundrel with his own weapons? Here at last was - the witness Mr. Swain had been seeking so long, come of his own free will. - Then—Heaven help me!—my mind flew on. As time had passed I had - more than once regretted refusing the Kent plantation, which had put her - from whom my thought never wandered within my reach again. Good Mr. Swain - had erred for once. 'Twas foolish, indeed, not to accept a portion of what - was rightfully mine, when no more could be got. And now, if what Philip - said was true (and I doubted it not), here at last was the chance come - again to win her without whom I should never be happy. I glanced at my - cousin. - </p> - <p> - “Gad's life!” says he, “it is cheap enough. I might have asked you - double.” - </p> - <p> - “So you might, and have been refused,” I cried hotly. For I believe that - speech of his recalled me to my senses. It has ever been an instinct with - me that no real prosperity comes out of double-dealing. And commerce with - such a sneak sickened me. “Go back to your father, Philip, and threaten - him, and he may make you rich. Such as he live by blackmail. And you may - add, and you will, that the day of retribution is coming for him.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLVIII. MULTUM IN PARVO - </h2> - <p> - I lost no time after getting to Annapolis in confiding to Mr. Swain the - conversation I had had with my cousin Philip. And I noticed, as he sat - listening to my account in the library in Gloucester Street, that the - barrister looked very worn. He had never been a strong man, and the severe - strain he had been under with the patriots' business was beginning to - tell. - </p> - <p> - He was very thoughtful when I had finished, and then told me briefly that - I had done well not to take the offer. “Tucker would have made but short - work of such evidence, my lad,” said he, “and I think Master Philip would - have lied himself in and out a dozen times. I cannot think what witness he - would have introduced save Mr. Allen. And there is scarcely a doubt that - your uncle pays him for his silence, for I am told he is living in - Frederick in a manner far above what he gets from the parish. However, - Philip has given us something more to work on. It may be that he can put - hands on the messenger.” - </p> - <p> - I rose to go. - </p> - <p> - “We shall bring them to earth yet, Richard, and I live,” he added. “And I - have always meant to ask you whether you ever regretted your decision in - taking Gordon's Pride.” - </p> - <p> - “And you live, sir!” I exclaimed, not heeding the question. - </p> - <p> - He smiled somewhat sadly. - </p> - <p> - “Of one thing I am sure, my lad,” he continued, “which is that I have had - no regrets about taking you. Mr. Bordley has just been here, and tells me - you are the ablest young man in the province. You see that more eyes than - mine are upon you. You have proved yourself a man, Richard, and there are - very few macaronies would have done as you did. I am resolved to add - another little mite to your salary.” - </p> - <p> - The “little mite” was of such a substantial nature that I protested - strongly against it. I thought of Tom's demands upon him. - </p> - <p> - “I could afford to give you double for what you have made off the place,” - he interrupted. “But I do not believe in young men having too much.” He - sighed, and turned to his work. - </p> - <p> - I hesitated. “You have spent time and labour upon my case, sir, and have - asked no fee.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall speak of the fee when I win it,” he said dryly, “and not before. - How would you like to be clerk this winter to the Committee of - Correspondence?” - </p> - <p> - I suppose my pleasure was expressed in my face. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said he, “I have got you the appointment without much difficulty. - There are many ways in which you can be useful to the party when not - helping me with my affairs.” - </p> - <p> - This conversation gave me food for reflection during a week. I was - troubled about Mr. Swain, and what he had said as to not living kept - running in my head as I wrote or figured. For I had enough to hold me - busy. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime, the clouds fast gathering on both sides of the Atlantic - grew blacker, and blacker still. I saw a great change in Annapolis. Men of - affairs went about with grave faces, while gay and sober alike were - touched by the spell. The Tory gentry, to be sure, rattled about in their - gilded mahogany coaches, in spite of jeers and sour looks. My Aunt - Caroline wore jewelled stomachers to the assemblies,—now become dry - and shrivelled entertainments. She kept her hairdresser, had three men in - livery to her chair, and a little negro in Turk's costume to wait on her. - I often met her in the streets, and took a fierce joy in staring her, in - the eye. And Grafton! By a sort of fate I was continually running against - him. He was a very busy man, was my uncle, and had a kind of dignified - run, which he used between Marlboro' Street and the Council Chamber in the - Stadt House, or the Governor's mansion. He never did me the honour to - glance at me. The Rev. Mr. Allen, too, came a-visiting from Frederick, - where he had grown stout as an alderman upon the living and its - perquisites and Grafton's additional bounty. The gossips were busy with - his doings, for he had his travelling-coach and servant now. He went to - the Tory balls with my aunt. Once I all but encountered him on the Circle, - but he ran into Northeast Street to avoid me. - </p> - <p> - Yes, that was the winter when the wise foresaw the inevitable, and the - first sharp split occurred between men who had been brothers. The old - order of things had plainly passed, and I was truly thankful that my - grandfather had not lived to witness those scenes. The greater part of our - gentry stood firm for America's rights, and they had behind them the best - lawyers in America. After the lawyers came the small planters and most of - the mechanics. The shopkeepers formed the backbone of King George's - adherents; the Tory gentry, the clergy, and those holding office under the - proprietor made the rest. - </p> - <p> - And it was all about tea, a word which, since '67, had been steadily - becoming the most vexed in the language. The East India Company had put - forth a complaint. They had Heaven knows how many tons getting stale in - London warehouses, all by reason of our stubbornness, and so it was - enacted that all tea paying the small American tax should have a rebate of - the English duties. That was truly a master-stroke, for Parliament to give - it us cheaper than it could be had at home! To cause his Majesty's - government to lose revenues for the sake of being able to say they had - caught and taxed us at last! The happy result is now history, my dears. - And this is not a history, tho' I wish it were. What occurred at Boston, - at Philadelphia, and Charleston, has since caused Englishmen, as well as - Americans, to feel proud. The chief incident in Annapolis I shall mention - in another chapter. - </p> - <p> - When it became known with us that several cargoes were on their way to the - colonies, excitement and indignation gained a pitch not reached since the - Stamp Act. Business came to a standstill, plantations lay idle, and gentry - and farmers flocked to Annapolis, and held meetings and made resolutions - anew. On my way of a morning from Mr. Swain's house to his chambers in the - Circle I would meet as many as a dozen knots of people. Mr. Claude was one - of the few patriots who reaped reward out of the disturbance, for his inn - was crowded. The Assembly met, appointed committees to correspond with the - other colonies, and was prorogued once and again. Many a night I sat up - until the small hours copying out letters to the committees of Virginia, - and Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts. The gentlemen were wont to dine at - the Coffee House, and I would sit near the foot of the table, taking notes - of their plans. 'Twas so I met many men of distinction from the other - colonies. Colonel Washington came once. He was grown a greater man than - ever, and I thought him graver than when I had last seen him. I believe a - trait of this gentleman was never to forget a face. - </p> - <p> - “How do you, Richard?” said he. How I reddened when he called me so before - all the committee. “I have heard your story, and it does you vast credit. - And the gentlemen tell me you are earning laurels, sir.” - </p> - <p> - That first winter of the tea troubles was cold and wet with us, and the - sun, as if in sympathy with the times, rarely showed his face. Early in - February our apprehensions concerning Mr. Swain's health were realized. - One day, without a word to any one, he went to his bed, where Patty found - him. And I ran all the way to Dr. Leiden's. The doctor looked at him, felt - his pulse and his chest, and said nothing. But he did not rest that night, - nor did Patty or I. - </p> - <p> - Thus I came to have to do with the good barrister's private affairs. I - knew that he was a rich man, as riches went in our province, but I had - never tried to guess at his estate. I confess the sums he had paid out in - Tom's behalf frightened me. With the advice of Mr. Bordley and Mr. Lloyd I - managed his money as best I could, but by reason of the non-importation - resolutions there was little chance for good investments,—no cargoes - coming and few going. I saw, indeed, that buying the Talbot estate had - been a fortunate step, since the quantities of wheat we grew there might - be disposed of in America. - </p> - <p> - When Dr. Leiden was still coming twice a day to Gloucester Street, Mr. Tom - must needs get into a scrape with one of the ladies of the theatre, and - come to me in the Circle chambers for one hundred pounds. I told him, in - despair, that I had no authority to pay out his father's money. “And so - you have become master, sure enough!” he cried, in a passion. For he was - desperate. “You have worked your way in vastly well, egad, with your Whig - committee meetings and speeches. And now he is on his back, and you have - possession, you choose to cut me off. 'Slife, I know what will be coming - next!” - </p> - <p> - I pulled him into Mr. Swain's private room, where we would be free of the - clerks. “Yes, I am master here,” I replied, sadly enough, as he stood - sullenly before me. “I should think you would be ashamed to own it. When I - came to your father I was content to be overseer in Talbot, and thankful - for his bounty. 'Tis no fault of mine, but your disgrace, that his son is - not managing his business, and supporting him in the rights of his - country. I am not very old, Tom. A year older than you, I believe. But I - have seen enough of life to prophesy your end and you do not reform.” - </p> - <p> - “We are turned preacher,” he says, with a sneer. - </p> - <p> - “God forbid! But I have been in a sponging-house, and tasted the lowest - dregs. And if this country becomes free, as I think it will some day, such - as you will be driven to England, and die in the Fleet.” - </p> - <p> - “Not while my father lives,” retorts he, and throws aside the oiled silk - cape with a London name upon it. The day was rainy. I groaned. My - responsibility lay heavy upon me. And this was not my first scene with - him. He continued doggedly:—“You have no right to deny me what is - not yours. 'Twill be mine one day.” - </p> - <p> - “You have no right to accuse me of thoughts that do not occur to men of - honour,” I replied. “I am slower to anger than I once was, but I give you - warning now. Do you know that you will ruin your father in another year - and you continue?” - </p> - <p> - He gave me no answer. I reached for the ledger, and turning the pages, - called off to him the sums he had spent. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, have done, d—n it!” he cried, when I was not a third through. - “Are you or are you not to give me the money?” - </p> - <p> - “And you are to spend it upon an actress?” I should have called her by a - worse name. - </p> - <p> - “Actress!” he shouted. “Have you seen her in The Orphan? My soul, she is a - divinity!” Then he shifted suddenly to whining and cringing. “I am ruined - outright, Richard, if I do not get it.” - </p> - <p> - Abjectly he confessed the situation, which had in it enough material for a - scandal to set the town wagging for a month. And the weight of it would - fall; as I well knew, upon those who deserved it least. - </p> - <p> - “I will lend you the money, or, rather, will pay it for you,” I said, at - last. For I was not so foolish as to put it into his hands. “You shall - have the sum under certain conditions.” - </p> - <p> - He agreed to them before they were out of my mouth, and swore in a dozen - ways that he would repay me every farthing. He was heartily tired of the - creature, and, true to his nature, afraid of her. That night when the play - was over I went to her lodging, and after a scene too distressing to dwell - upon, bought her off. - </p> - <p> - I sat with Mr. Swain many an hour that spring, with Patty sewing at the - window open to the garden. Often, as we talked, unnoticed by her father - she would drop her work and the tears glisten in her eyes. For the - barrister's voice was not as strong as it once was, and the cold would not - seem to lift from his chest. So this able man, who might have sat in the - seats of Maryland's high reward, was stricken when he was needed most. - </p> - <p> - He was permitted two visitors a day: now 'twas Mr. Carroll and Colonel - Lloyd, again Colonel Tilghman and Captain Clapsaddle, or Mr. Yaca and Mr. - Bordley. The gentlemen took turns, and never was their business so - pressing that they missed their hour. Mr. Swain read all the prints, and - in his easier days would dictate to me his views for the committee, or a - letter signed Brutes for Mr. Green to put in the Gazette. So I became his - mouthpiece at the meetings, and learned to formulate my thoughts and to - speak clearly. - </p> - <p> - For fear of confusing this narrative, my dears, I have referred but little - to her who was in my thoughts night and day, and whose locket I wore, - throughout all those years, next my heart. I used to sit out under the - stars at Gordon's Pride, with the river lapping at my feet, and picture - her the shining centre of all the brilliant scenes I had left, and wonder - if she still thought of me. - </p> - <p> - Nor have I mentioned that faithful correspondent, and more faithful - friend, Lord Comyn. As soon as ever I had obtained from Captain Daniel my - mother's little inheritance, I sent off the debt I owed his Lordship. - 'Twas a year before I got him to receive it; he despatched the money back - once, saying that I had more need of it than he. I smiled at this, for my - Lord was never within his income, and I made no doubt he had signed a note - to cover my indebtedness. - </p> - <p> - Every letter Comyn writ me was nine parts Dolly, and the rest of his sheet - usually taken up with Mr. Fox and his calamities: these had fallen upon - him very thick of late. Lord Holland had been forced to pay out a hundred - thousand pounds for Charles, and even this enormous sum did not entirely - free Mr. Fox from the discounters and the hounds. The reason for this - sudden onslaught was the birth of a boy to his brother Stephen, who was - heir to the title. “When they told Charles of it,” Comyn wrote, “said he, - coolly: 'My brother Ste's son is a second Messiah, born for the - destruction of the Jews.'” - </p> - <p> - I saw no definite signs, as yet, of the conversion of this prodigy, which - I so earnestly hoped for. He had quarrelled with North, lost his place on - the Admiralty, and presently the King had made him a Lord of the Treasury, - tho' more out of fear than love. Once in a while, when he saw Comyn at - Almack's, he would desire to be remembered to me, and he always spoke of - me with affection. But he could be got to write to no one, said my Lord, - with kind exaggeration; nor will he receive letters, for fear he may get a - dun. - </p> - <p> - Alas, I got no message from Dorothy! Nor had she ever mentioned my name to - Comyn. He had not seen her for eight months after I left England, as she - had been taken to the Continent for her health. She came back to London - more ravishing than before, and (I use his Lordship's somewhat extravagant - language) her suffering had stamped upon her face even more of character - and power. She had lost much of her levity, likewise. In short, my Lord - declared, she was more of the queen than ever, and the mystery which hung - over the Vauxhall duel had served only to add to her fame. - </p> - <p> - Dorothy having become cognizant of Mr. Marmaduke's trickery, Chartersea - seemed to have dropped out of the race. He now spent his time very evenly - between Spa and Derresley and Paris. Hence I had so much to be thankful - for,—that with all my blunders, I had saved her from his Grace. My - Lord the Marquis of Wells was now most conspicuous amongst her suitors. - Comyn had nothing particular against this nobleman, saying that he was a - good fellow, with a pretty fortune. And here is a letter, my dears, in - which he figures, that I brought to Cordon's Pride that spring: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “10 SOUTH PARADE, BATH, - “March 12, 1774. - - “DEAR RICHARD:—Miss Manners has come to Bath, with a train behind - her longer than that which followed good Queen Anne hither, when she - made this Gehenna the fashion. Her triumphal entry last Wednesday - was announced by such a peal of the abbey bells as must have cracked - the metal (for they have not rung since) and started Beau Nash - a-cursing where he lies under the floor. Next came her serenade by - the band. Mr. Marmaduke swore they would never have done, and - squirmed and grinned like Punch when he thought of the fee, for he - had hoped to get off with a crown, I warrant you. You should have - seen his face when they would accept no fee at all for the beauty! - Some wag has writ a verse about it, which was printed, and has set - the whole pump-room laughing this morning. - - “She was led out by Wells in the Seasons last night. As Spring she - is too bewildering for my pen,—all primrose and white, with the - flowers in her blue-black hair. Had Sir Joshua seen her, he would - never rest content till he should have another portrait. The Duc de - Lauzun, who contrived to get two dances, might give you a - description in a more suitable language than English. And there was - a prodigious deal of jealousy among the fair ones on the benches, - you may be sure, and much jaundiced comment. - - “Some half dozen of us adorers have a mess at the Bear, and have - offered up a prize for the most appropriate toast on the beauty. - This is in competition with Mrs. Miller. Have you not heard of her - among your tobacco-hills? Horry calls her Mrs. 'Calliope' Miller. - At her place near here, Bath Easton Villa, she has set up a Roman - vase bedecked with myrtle, and into this we drop our bouts-rimes. - Mrs. Calliope has a ball every Thursday, when the victors are - crowned. T'other day the theme was 'A Buttered Muffin,' and her - Grace of Northumberland was graciously awarded the prize. In faith, - that theme taxed our wits at the Bear,—how to weave Miss Dolly's - charms into a verse on a buttered muffin. I shall not tire you with - mine. Storer's deserved to win, and we whisper that Mrs. Calliope - ruled it out through spite. 'When Phyllis eats,' so it began, and I - vow 'twas devilish ingenious. - - “We do nothing but play lasquenet and tennis, and go to the - assembly, and follow Miss Dolly into Gill's, the pastry-cook's, - where she goes every morning to take a jelly. The ubiquitous Wells - does not give us much chance. He writes 'vers de societe' with the - rest, is high in Mr. Marmaduke's favour, which alone is enough to - damn his progress. I think she is ill of the sight of him. - - “Albeit she does not mourn herself into a tree, I'll take oath your - Phyllis is true to you, Richard, and would live with you gladly in a - thatched hut and you asked her. Write me more news of yourself. - - “Your ever affectionate - “COMYN -</pre> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “P.S. I have had news of you through Mr. Worthington, of your - colony, who is just arrived here. He tells me that you - have gained a vast reputation for your plantation, and likewise that - you are thought much of by the Whig wiseacres, and that you hold - many seditious offices. He does not call them so. Since your - modesty will not permit you to write me any of these things, I have - been imagining you driving slaves with a rawhide, and seeding - runaway convicts to the mines. Mr. W. is even now paying his - respects to Miss Manners, and I doubt not trumpeting your praises - there, for he seems to like you. So I have asked him to join the - Bear mess. One more unfortunate! - - “P.S. I was near forgetting the news about Charles Fox. He sends - you his love, and tells me to let you know that he has been turned - out of North's house for good and all. He is sure you will be - cursed happy over it, and says that you predicted he would go over - to the Whigs. I can scarce believe that he will. North took a - whole week to screw up His courage, h-s M-j-sty pricking him every - day. And then he wrote this: - - “'Sir, his Majesty has thought proper to order a new Commission of - the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not see your name.' Poor - Charles! He is now without money or place, but as usual appears to - worry least of all of us, and still reads his damned Tasso for - amusement. - “C.” - </pre> - <p> - Perchance he was to be the Saint Paul of English politics, after all. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLIX. LIBERTY LOSES A FRIEND - </h2> - <p> - Mr. Bordley's sloop took Mr. Swain to Gordon's Pride in May, and placed - him in the big room overlooking the widening river. There he would lie all - day long, staring through the leaves at the water, or listening to the - sweet music of his daughter's voice as she read from the pompous prints of - the time. Gentlemen continued to come to the plantation, for the - barrister's wisdom was sorely missed at the councils. One day, as I rode - in from the field, I found Colonel Lloyd just arrived from Philadelphia, - sipping sangaree on the lawn and mopping himself with his handkerchief. - His jolly face was troubled. He waved his hand at me. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Richard,” says he, “we children are to have our first whipping. At - least one of us. And the rest are resolved to defy our parent.” - </p> - <p> - “Boston, Mr. Lloyd?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Boston,” he replied; “her port is closed, and we are forbid any - intercourse with her until she comes to her senses. And her citizens must - receive his gracious Majesty's troopers into their houses. And if a man - kill one of them by any chance, he is to go to England to be tried. And - there is more quite as bad.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis bad enough!” I cried, flinging myself down. And Patty gave me a - glass in silence. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, but you must hear all,” said he; “our masters are of a mind to do the - thing thoroughly. Canada is given some score of privileges. Her French - Roman Catholics, whom we fought not long since, are thrown a sop, and - those vast territories between the lakes and the Ohio and Mississippi are - given to Quebec as a price for her fidelity. And so, if the worst comes to - worst, George's regiments will have a place to land against us.” - </p> - <p> - Such was the news, and though we were some hundreds of miles from - Massachusetts, we felt their cause as our own. There was no need of the - appeal which came by smoking horses from Philadelphia, for the indignation - of our people was roused to the highest pitch. Now Mr. Swain had to take - to his bed from the excitement. - </p> - <p> - This is not a history, my dears, as I have said. And time is growing - short. I shall pass over that dreary summer of '74. It required no very - keen eye to see the breakers ahead, and Mr. Bordley's advice to provide - against seven years of famine did not go unheeded. War was the last thing - we desired. We should have been satisfied with so little, we colonies! And - would have voted the duties ten times over had our rights been respected. - Should any of you doubt this, you have but to read the “Address to the - King” of our Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The quarrel was so - petty, and so easy of mending, that you of this generation may wonder why - it was allowed to run. I have tried to tell you that the head of a - stubborn, selfish, and wilful monarch blocked the way to reconciliation. - King George the Third is alone to blame for that hatred of race against - race which already hath done so much evil. And I pray God that a great - historian may arise whose pen will reveal the truth, and reconcile at - length those who are, and should be, brothers. - </p> - <p> - By October, that most beautiful month of all the year in Maryland, we were - again in Annapolis: One balmy day 'twas a Friday, I believe, and a gold - and blue haze hung over the Severn—Mr. Chase called in Gloucester - Street to give the barrister news of the Congress, which he had lately - left. As he came down the stairs he paused for a word with me in the - library, and remarked sadly upon Mr. Swain's condition. “He looks like a - dying man, Richard,” said he, “and we can ill afford to lose him.” - </p> - <p> - Even as we sat talking in subdued tones, the noise of a distant commotion - arose. We had scarce started to our feet, Mr. Chase and I, when the brass - knocker resounded, and Mr. Hammond was let in. His wig was awry, and his - face was flushed. - </p> - <p> - “I thought to find you here,” he said to Mr. Chase. “The Anne Arundel - Committee is to meet at once, and we desire to have you with us.” - Perceiving our blank faces, he added: “The 'Peggy Stewart' is in this - morning with over a ton of tea aboard, consigned to the Williams's.” - </p> - <p> - The two jumped into a chaise, and I followed afoot, stopped at every - corner by some excited acquaintance; so that I had the whole story, and - more, ere I reached Church Street. The way was blocked before the - committee rooms, and 'twas said that the merchants, Messrs. Williams, and - Captain Jackson of the brig, were within, pleading their cause. - </p> - <p> - Presently the news leaked abroad that Mr. Anthony Stewart, the brig's - owner, had himself paid the duty on the detested plant. Some hundreds of - people were elbowing each other in the street, for the most part quiet and - anxious, until Mr. Hammond appeared and whispered to a man at the door. In - all my life before I had never heard the hum of an angry crowd. The sound - had something ominous in it, like the first meanings of a wind that is to - break off great trees at their trunks. Then some one shouted: “To Hanover - Street! To Hanover Street! We'll have him tarred and feathered before the - sun is down!” The voice sounded strangely like Weld's. They charged at - this cry like a herd of mad buffalo, the weaker ones trampled under foot - or thrust against the wall. The windows of Mr. Aikman's shop were - shattered. I ran with the leaders, my stature and strength standing me in - good stead more than once, and as we twisted into Northwest Street I took - a glance at the mob behind me, and great was my anxiety at not being able - to descry one responsible person. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Stewart's house stood, and stands to-day, amid trim gardens, in plain - sight of the Severn. Arriving there, the crowd massed in front of it, some - of the boldest pressing in at the gate and spreading over the circle of - lawn enclosed by the driveway. They began to shout hoarsely, with what - voices they had left, for Mr. Stewart to come out, calling him names not - to be spoken, and swearing they would show him how traitors were to be - served. I understood then the terror of numbers, and shuddered. A - chandler, a bold and violent man, whose leather was covered with grease, - already had his foot on the steps, when the frightened servants slammed - the door in his face, and closed the lower windows. In vain I strained my - eyes for some one who might have authority with them. They began to pick - up stones, though none were thrown. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a figure appeared at an upper window,—a thin and wasted - woman dressed in white, with sad, sweet features. It was Mrs. Stewart. - Without flinching she looked down upon the upturned faces; but a mob of - that kind has no pity. Their leaders were the worst class in our province, - being mostly convicts who had served their terms of indenture. They - continued to call sullenly for “the traitor.” Then the house door opened, - and the master himself appeared. He was pale and nervous, and no wonder; - and his voice shook as he strove to make himself heard. His words were - drowned immediately by shouts of “Seize him! Seize the d—d traitor!” - “A pot and a coat of hot tar!” - </p> - <p> - Those who were nearest started forward, and I with them. With me 'twas the - decision of an instant. I beat the chandler up the steps, and took stand - in front of the merchant, and I called out to them to fall back. - </p> - <p> - To my astonishment they halted. The skirts of the crowd were now come to - the foot of the little porch. I faced them with my hand on Mr. Stewart's - arm, without a thought of what to do next, and expecting violence. There - was a second's hush. Then some one cried out: - </p> - <p> - “Three cheers for Richard Carvel!” - </p> - <p> - They gave them with a will that dumfounded me. - </p> - <p> - “My friends,” said I, when I had got my wits, “this is neither the justice - nor the moderation for which our province is noted. You have elected your - committee of your free wills, and they have claims before you.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, the committee!” they shouted. “Mr. Carvel is right. Take him to - the Committee!” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Stewart raised his hand. - </p> - <p> - “My friends,” he began, as I had done, “when you have learned the truth, - you will not be so hasty to blame me for an offence of which I am - innocent. The tea was not for me. The brig was in a leaky and dangerous - state and had fifty souls aboard her. I paid the duty out of humanity—” - </p> - <p> - He had come so far, when they stopped him. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, a vile Tory!” they shouted. “He is conniving with the Council. 'Twas - put up between them.” And they followed this with another volley of hard - names, until I feared that his chance was gone. - </p> - <p> - “You would best go before the Committee, Mr. Stewart,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I will go with Mr. Carvel, my friends,” he cried at once. And he invited - me into the house whilst he ordered his coach. I preferred to remain - outside. - </p> - <p> - I asked them if they would trust me with Mr. Stewart to Church Street. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, Mr. Carvel, we know you,” said several. “He has good cause to - hate Tories,” called another, with a laugh. I knew the voice. - </p> - <p> - “For shame, Weld,” I cried. And I saw McNeir, who was a stanch friend of - mine, give him a cuff to send him spinning. - </p> - <p> - To my vast satisfaction they melted away, save only a few of the idlest - spirits, who hung about the gate, and cheered as we drove off. Mr. Stewart - was very nervous, and profuse in his gratitude. I replied that I had acted - only as would have any other responsible citizen. On the way he told me - enough of his case to convince me that there was much to be said on his - side, but I thought it the better part of wisdom not to commit myself. The - street in front of the committee rooms was empty, and I was informed that - a town meeting had been called immediately at the theatre in West Street. - And I advised Mr. Stewart to attend. But through anxiety or anger, or - both, he was determined not to go, and drove back to his house without me. - </p> - <p> - I had got as far as St. Anne's, halfway to the theatre, when it suddenly - struck me that Mr. Swain must be waiting for news. With a twinge I - remembered what Mr. Chase had said about the barrister's condition, and I - hurried back to Gloucester Street, much to the surprise of those I met on - their way to the meeting. I was greatly relieved, when I arrived, to find - Patty on the porch. I knew she had never been there were her father worse. - After a word with her and her mother, I went up the stairs. - </p> - <p> - It was the hour for the barrister's nap. But he was awake, lying back on - the pillows, with his eyes half closed. He was looking out into the - garden, which was part orchard, now beginning to shrivel and to brown with - the first touch of frosts. - </p> - <p> - “That is you, Richard?” he inquired, without moving. “What is going - forward to-day?” - </p> - <p> - I toned down the news, so as not to excite him, and left out the - occurrence in Hanover Street. He listened with his accustomed interest, - but when I had done he asked no questions, and lay for a long time silent. - Then he begged me to bring my chair nearer. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,—my son,” said he, with an evident effort, “I have never - thanked you for your devotion to me and mine through the best years of - your life. It shall not go unrewarded, my lad.” - </p> - <p> - It seemed as if my heart stood still with the presage of what was to come. - </p> - <p> - “May God reward you, sir!” I said. - </p> - <p> - “I have wished to speak to you,” he continued, “and I may not have another - chance. I have arranged with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, to take your - cause against your uncle, so that you will lose nothing when I am gone. - And you will see, in my table in the library, that I have left my property - in your hands, with every confidence in your integrity, and ability to - care for my family, even as I should have done.” - </p> - <p> - I could not speak at once. A lump rose in my throat, for I had come to - look upon him as a father. His honest dealings, his charity, of which the - world knew nothing, and his plain and unassuming ways had inspired in me a - kind of worship. I answered, as steadily as I might: - </p> - <p> - “I believe I am too inexperienced for such a responsibility, Mr. Swain. - Would it not be better that Mr. Bordley or Mr. Lloyd should act?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” he said; “I am not a man to do things unadvisedly, or to let - affection get the better of my judgment, where others dear to me are - concerned. I know you, Richard Carvel. Scarce an action of yours has - escaped my eye, though I have said nothing. You have been through the - fire, and are of the kind which comes out untouched. You will have Judge - Bordley's advice, and Mr. Carroll's. And they are too busy with the - affairs of the province to be burdened as my executors. But,” he added a - little more strongly, “if what I fear is coming, Mr. Bordley will take the - trust in your absence. If we have war, Richard, you will not be content to - remain at home, nor would I wish it.” - </p> - <p> - I did not reply. - </p> - <p> - “You will do what I ask?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I would refuse you nothing, Mr. Swain,” I answered. “But I have heavy - misgivings.” - </p> - <p> - He sighed. “And now, if it were not for Tom, I might die content,” he - said. - </p> - <p> - If it were not for Tom! The full burden of the trust began to dawn upon me - then. Presently I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I hardly - caught the words. - </p> - <p> - “In our youth, Richard,” he was saying, “the wrath of the Almighty is but - so many words to most of us. When I was little more than a lad, I - committed a sin of which I tremble now to think. And I was the fool to - imagine, when I amended my life, that God had forgotten. His punishment is - no heavier than I deserve. But He alone knows what He has made me suffer.” - </p> - <p> - I felt that I had no right to be there. - </p> - <p> - “That is why I have paid Tom's debts,” he continued; “I cannot cast off my - son. I have reasoned, implored, and appealed in vain. He is like Reuben,—his - resolutions melt in an hour. And I have pondered day and night what is to - be done for him.” - </p> - <p> - “Is he to have his portion?” I asked. Indeed, the thought of the - responsibility of Tom Swain overwhelmed me. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he is to have it,” cried Mr. Swain, with a violence to bring on a - fit of coughing. “Were I to leave it in trust for a time, he would have it - mortgaged within a year. He is to have his portion, but not a penny - additional.” - </p> - <p> - He lay for a long time breathing deeply, I watching him. Then, as he - reached out and took my hand, I knew by some instinct what was to come. I - summoned all my self-command to meet his eye. I knew that the malicious - and unthinking gossip of the town had reached him, and that he had - received it in the simple faith of his hopes. - </p> - <p> - “One thing more, my lad,” he said, “the dearest wish of all—that you - will marry Patty. She is a good girl, Richard. And I have thought,” he - added with hesitation, “I have thought that she loves you, though her lips - have never opened on that subject.” - </p> - <p> - So the blow fell. I turned away, for to save my life the words would not - come. He missed the reason of my silence. - </p> - <p> - “I understand and honour your scruples,” he went on. His kindness was like - a knife. - </p> - <p> - “No, I have had none, Mr. Swain,” I exclaimed. For I would not be thought - a hypocrite. - </p> - <p> - There I stopped. A light step sounded in the hall, and Patty came in upon - us. Her colour at once betrayed her understanding. To my infinite relief - her father dropped my fingers, and asked cheerily if there was any news - from the town meeting. - </p> - <p> - On the following Wednesday, with her flag flying and her sails set, the - Peggy Stewart was run ashore on Windmill Point. She rose, a sacrifice to - Liberty, in smoke to heaven, before the assembled patriots of our city. - </p> - <p> - That very night a dear friend to Liberty passed away. He failed so - suddenly that Patty had no time to call for aid, and when the mother had - been carried in, his spirit was flown. We laid him high on the hill above - the creek, in the new lot he had bought and fenced around. The stone - remains: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - HERE LIETH - - HENRY SWAIN, BARRISTER. - BORN MAY 13, 1730 (O.S.); - DIED OCTOBER 19, 1774. - Fidus Amicis atque Patrice. -</pre> - <p> - The simple inscription, which speaks volumes to those who knew him, was - cut after the Revolution. He was buried with the honours of a statesman, - which he would have been had God spared him to serve the New Country which - was born so soon after his death. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Volume 8. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER L. FAREWELL TO GORDON'S - </h2> - <p> - I cannot bear to recall my misery of mind after Mr. Swain's death. One - hope had lightened all the years of my servitude. For, when I examined my - soul, I knew that it was for Dorothy I had laboured. And every letter that - came from Comyn telling me she was still free gave me new heart for my - work. By some mystic communion—I know not what—I felt that she - loved me yet, and despite distance and degree. I would wake of a morning - with the knowledge of it, and be silent for half the day with some - particle of a dream in my head, lingering like the burden of a song with - its train of memories. - </p> - <p> - So, in the days that followed, I scarce knew myself. For a while (I shame - to write it) I avoided that sweet woman who had made my comfort her care, - whose father had taken me when I was homeless. The good in me cried out, - but the flesh rebelled. - </p> - <p> - Poor Patty! Her grief for her father was pathetic to see. Weeks passed in - which she scarcely spoke a word. And I remember her as she sat in church - Sundays, the whiteness of her face enhanced by the crape she wore, and a - piteous appeal in her gray eyes. My own agony was nigh beyond endurance, - my will swinging like a pendulum from right to wrong, and back again. - Argue as I might that I had made the barrister no promise, conscience - allowed no difference. I was in despair at the trick fate had played me; - at the decree that of all women I must love her whose sphere was now so - far removed from mine. For Patty had character and beauty, and every gift - which goes to make man's happiness and to kindle his affections. - </p> - <p> - Her sorrow left her more womanly than ever. And after the first sharp - sting of it was deadened, I noticed a marked reserve in her intercourse - with me. I knew then that she must have strong suspicions of her father's - request. Speak I could not soon after the sad event, but I strove hard - that she should see no change in my conduct. - </p> - <p> - Before Christmas we went to the Eastern Shore. In Annapolis fife and drum - had taken the place of fiddle and clarion; militia companies were drilling - in the empty streets; despatches were arriving daily from the North; and - grave gentlemen were hurrying to meetings. But if the war was to come, I - must settle what was to be done at Gordon's Pride with all possible speed. - It was only a few days after our going there, that I rode into Oxford with - a black cockade in my hat Patty had made me, and the army sword Captain - Jack had given Captain Daniel at my side. For I had been elected a - lieutenant in the Oxford company, of which Percy Singleton was captain. - </p> - <p> - So passed that winter, the darkest of my life. One soft spring day, when - the birds were twittering amid new-born leaves, and the hyacinths and - tulips in Patty's garden were coming to their glory, Master Tom rode - leisurely down the drive at Gordon's Pride. That was a Saturday, the 29th - of April, 1775. The news which had flown southward, night and day alike, - was in no hurry to run off his tongue; he had been lolling on the porch - for half an hour before he told us of the bloodshed between the minute-men - of Massachusetts and the British regulars, of the rout of Percy's panting - redcoats from Concord to Boston. Tom added, with the brutal nonchalance - which characterized his dealings with his mother and sister, that he was - on his way to Philadelphia to join a company. - </p> - <p> - The poor invalid was carried up the stairs in a faint by Banks and Romney. - Patty, with pale face and lips compressed, ran to fetch the hartshorn. But - Master Tom remained undisturbed. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose you are going, Richard,” he remarked affably. For he treated me - with more consideration than his family. “We shall ride together,” said - he. - </p> - <p> - “We ride different ways, and to different destinations,” I replied dryly. - “I go to serve my country, and you to fight against it.” - </p> - <p> - “I think the King is right,” he answered sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I beg your pardon,” I remarked, and rose. “Then you have studied the - question since last I saw you.” - </p> - <p> - “No, by G-d!” he cried, “and I never will. I do not want to know your d—d - principles—or grievances, or whatever they are. We were living an - easy life, in the plenty of money, and nothing to complain of. You take it - all away, with your cursed cant—” - </p> - <p> - I left him railing and swearing. And that was the last I saw of Tom Swain. - When I returned from a final survey of the plantation; and a talk with - Percy Singleton, he had ridden North again. - </p> - <p> - I found Patty alone in the parlour. Her work (one of my own stockings she - was darning) lay idle in her lap, and in her eyes were the unshed tears - which are the greatest suffering of women. I sat down beside her and - called her name. She did not seem to hear me. - </p> - <p> - “Patty!” - </p> - <p> - She started. And my courage ebbed. - </p> - <p> - “Are you going to the war—to leave us, Richard?” she faltered. - </p> - <p> - “I fear there is no choice, Patty,” I answered, striving hard to keep my - own voice steady. “But you will be well looked after. Ivie Rawlinson is to - be trusted, and Mr. Bordley has promised to keep an eye upon you.” - </p> - <p> - She took up the darning mechanically. - </p> - <p> - “I shall not speak a word to keep you, Richard. He would have wished it,” - she said softly. “And every strong arm in the colonies will be needed. We - shall think of you, and pray for you daily.” - </p> - <p> - I cast about for a cheerful reply. - </p> - <p> - “I think when they discover how determined we are, they will revoke their - measures in a hurry. Before you know it, Patty, I shall be back again - making the rounds in my broad rim, and reading to you out of Captain - Cook.” - </p> - <p> - It was a pitiful attempt. She shook her head sadly. The tears were come - now, and she was smiling through them. The sorrow of that smile! - </p> - <p> - “I have something to say to you before I go, Patty,” I said. The words - stuck. I knew that there must be no pretence in that speech. It must be - true as my life after, the consequence of it. “I have something to ask - you, and I do not speak without your father's consent. Patty, if I return, - will you be my wife?” - </p> - <p> - The stocking slipped unheeded to the floor. For a moment she sat - transfixed, save for the tumultuous swelling of her breast. Then she - turned and gazed earnestly into my face, and the honesty of her eyes smote - me. For the first time I could not meet them honestly with my own. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, do you love me?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - I bowed my head. I could not answer that. And for a while there was no - sound save that of the singing of the frogs in the distant marsh. - </p> - <p> - Presently I knew that she was standing at my side. I felt her hand laid - upon my shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Is—is it Dorothy?” she said gently. - </p> - <p> - Still I could not answer. Truly, the bitterness of life, as the joy of it, - is distilled in strong drops. - </p> - <p> - “I knew,” she continued, “I have known ever since that autumn morning when - I went to you as you saddled—when I dreaded that you would leave us. - Father asked you to marry me, the day you took Mr. Stewart from the mob. - How could you so have misunderstood me, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - I looked up in wonder. The sweet cadence in her tone sprang from a purity - not of this earth. They alone who have consecrated their days to others - may utter it. And the light upon her face was of the same source. It was - no will of mine brought me to my feet. But I was not worthy to touch her. - </p> - <p> - “I shall make another prayer, beside that for your safety, Richard,” she - said. - </p> - <p> - In the morning she waved me a brave farewell from the block where she had - stood so often as I rode afield, when the dawn was in the sky. The invalid - mother sat in her chair within the door; the servants were gathered on the - lawn, and Ivie Rawlinson and Banks lingered where they had held my - stirrup. That picture is washed with my own tears. - </p> - <p> - The earth was praising God that Sunday as I rode to Mr. Bordley's. And as - it is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven, I felt as if I were in - church. - </p> - <p> - I arrived at Wye Island in season to dine with the good judge and his - family, and there I made over to his charge the property of Patty and her - mother. The afternoon we spent in sober talk, Mr. Bordley giving me much - sound advice, and writing me several letters of recommendation to - gentlemen in Congress. His conduct was distinguished by even more of - kindness and consideration than he had been wont to show me. - </p> - <p> - In the evening I walked out alone, skirting the acres of Carvel Hall, each - familiar landmark touching the quick of some memory of other days. - Childhood habit drew me into the path to Wilmot House. I came upon it just - as the sunlight was stretching level across the Chesapeake, and burning - its windows molten red. I had been sitting long on the stone steps, when - the gaunt figure of McAndrews strode toward me out of the dusk. - </p> - <p> - “God be gude to us, it is Mr. Richard!” he cried. “I hae na seen ye're - bonny face these muckle years, sir, sync ye cam' back frae ae sight o' the - young mistress.” (I had met him in Annapolis then.) “An' will ye be aff to - the wars?” - </p> - <p> - I told him yes. That I had come for a last look at the old place before I - left. - </p> - <p> - He sighed. “Ye're vera welcome, sir.” Then he added: “Mr. Bordley's gi'en - me a fair notion o' yere management at Gordon's. The judge is thinking - there'll be nane ither lad t' hand a candle to ye.” - </p> - <p> - “And what news do you hear from London?” I asked, cutting him short. - </p> - <p> - “Ill uncos, sir,” he answered, shaking his head with violence. He had - indeed but a sorry tale for my ear, and one to make my heart heavier than - it was. McAndrews opened his mind to me, and seemed the better for it. How - Mr. Marmaduke was living with the establishment they wrote of was more - than the honest Scotchman could imagine. There was a country place in - Sussex now, said he, that was the latest. And drafts were coming in before - the wheat was in the ear; and the plantations of tobacco on the Western - Shore had been idle since the non-exportation, and were mortgaged to their - limit to Mr. Willard. Money was even loaned on the Wilmot House estate. - McAndrews had a shrewd suspicion that neither Mrs. Manners nor Miss - Dorothy knew aught of this state of affairs. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Richard,” he said earnestly, as he bade me good-by, “I kennt Mr. - Manners's mind when he lea'd here. There was a laird in't, sir, an' a - fortune. An' unless these come soon, I'm thinking I can spae th' en'.” - </p> - <p> - In truth, a much greater fool than McAndrews might have predicted that - end. - </p> - <p> - On Monday Judge Bordley accompanied me as far as Dingley's tavern, and - showed much emotion at parting. - </p> - <p> - “You need have no fears for your friends at Gordon's Pride, Richard,” said - he. “And when the General comes back, I shall try to give him a good - account of my stewardship.” - </p> - <p> - The General! That title brought old Stanwix's cobwebbed prophecy into my - head again. Here, surely, was the war which he had foretold, and I ready - to embark in it. - </p> - <p> - Why not the sea, indeed? - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LI. HOW AN IDLE PROPHECY CAME TO PASS - </h2> - <p> - Captain Clapsaddle not being at his lodgings, I rode on to the Coffee - House to put up my horse. I was stopped by Mr. Claude. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Mr. Carvel,” says he, “I thought you on the Eastern Shore. There is - a gentleman within will be mightily tickled to see you, or else his - protestations are lies, which they may very well be. His name? Now, 'Pon - my faith, it was Jones—no more.” - </p> - <p> - This thing of being called for at the Coffee House stirred up unpleasant - associations. - </p> - <p> - “What appearance does the man make?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Merciful gad!” mine host exclaimed; “once seen, never forgotten, and once - heard, never forgotten. He quotes me Thomson, and he tells me of his - estate in Virginia.” - </p> - <p> - The answer was not of a sort to allay my suspicions. - </p> - <p> - “Then he appears to be a landowner?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “'Ods! Blest if I know what he is,” says Mr. Claude. “He may be anything, - an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to strike the eye and - hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and thickset, and some - five feet eight inches—full six inches under your own height. And he - comes asking for you as if you owned the town between you. 'Send a fellow - to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good host!' says he, with a - snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news of you, he is - prodigiously affected, and cries—but here's my gentleman now!” - </p> - <p> - I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend and - benefactor, Captain John Paul! - </p> - <p> - “Ahoy, ahoy!” cries he. “Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at last.” - </p> - <p> - Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms. - </p> - <p> - “Hold, hold, Richard!” he gasped. “My ribs, man! Leave me some breath that - I may tell you how glad I am to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Jones!” I said, holding him out, “now where the devil got you that?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you,” he answered, smiling. “My - poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must have - three names at the least.” - </p> - <p> - I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter. - </p> - <p> - “But Jones!” I cried. “'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your - imagination left you, captain?” - </p> - <p> - “Republican simplicity, sir,” says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I - laughed the more. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar,” said I. “A landed - gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit under - that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket.” - </p> - <p> - He shook his head, looking up at me with affection. - </p> - <p> - “You might have guessed better,” he answered. “All of quality I have about - me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch.” - </p> - <p> - This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing in my - ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the captain's - and pulled him toward the Coffee House door. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” I said, “you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall be merry - to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the colonies.” I - commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he took his seat opposite - me I marked that he had grown heavier and more browned. But his eye had - the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore. And first I upbraided him - for not having writ me. - </p> - <p> - “I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain,” said I; “and - I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you in Mr. - Orchardson's care.” - </p> - <p> - “Orchardson died before I had made one voyage,” he replied, “and the Betsy - changed owners. But I did not forget you, Richard, and was resolved but - now not to leave Maryland until I had seen you. But I burn to hear of - you,” he added. “I have had an inkling of your story from the landlord. So - your grandfather is dead, and that blastie, your uncle, of whom you told - me on the John, is in possession.” - </p> - <p> - He listened to my narrative keenly, but with many interruptions. And when - I was done, he sighed. - </p> - <p> - “You are always finding friends, Richard,” said he; “no matter what your - misfortunes, they are ever double discounted. As for me; I am like Fulmer - in Mr. Cumberland's 'West Indian': 'I have beat through every quarter of - the compass; I have bellowed for freedom; I have offered to serve my - country; I have'—I am engaging to betray it. No, Scotland is no - longer my country, and so I cannot betray her. It is she who has betrayed - me.” - </p> - <p> - He fell into a short mood of dejection. And, indeed, I could not but - reflect that much of the character fitted him like a jacket. Not the - betrayal of his country. He never did that, no matter how roundly they - accused him of it afterward. - </p> - <p> - To lift him, I cried: - </p> - <p> - “You were one of my first friends, Captain Paul” (I could not stomach the - Jones); “but for you I should now be a West Indian, and a miserable one, - the slave of some unmerciful hidalgo. Here's that I may live to repay - you!” - </p> - <p> - “And while we are upon toasts,” says he, bracing immediately, “I give you - the immortal Miss Manners! Her beauty has dwelt unfaded in my memory since - I last beheld her, aboard the Betsy.” Remarking the pain in my face, he - added, with a concern which may have been comical: “And she is not - married?” - </p> - <p> - “Unless she is lately gone to Gretna, she is not,” I replied, trying to - speak lightly. - </p> - <p> - “Alack! I knew it,” he exclaimed. “And if there's any prophecy in my - bones, she'll be Mrs. Carvel one of these days.” - </p> - <p> - “Well captain,” I said abruptly, “the wheel has gone around since I saw - you. Now it is you who are the gentleman, while I am a factor. Is it the - bliss you pictured?” - </p> - <p> - I suspected that his acres were not as broad, nor his produce as salable, - as those of Mount Vernon. - </p> - <p> - “To speak truth, I am heartily tired of that life,” said he. “There is - little glory in raising nicotia, and sipping bumbo, and cursing negroes. - Ho for the sea!” he cried. “The salt sea, and the British prizes. Give me - a tight frigate that leaves a singing wake. Mark me, Richard,” he said, a - restless gleam coning into his dark eyes, “stirring times are here, and a - chance for all of us to make a name.” For so it seemed ever to be with - him. - </p> - <p> - “They are black times, I fear,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - “Black!” he said. “No, glorious is your word. And we are to have an - upheaval to throw many of us to the top.” - </p> - <p> - “I would rather the quarrel were peacefully settled,” said I, gravely. - “For my part, I want no distinction that is to come out of strife and - misery.” - </p> - <p> - He regarded me quizzically. - </p> - <p> - “You are grown an hundred years old since I pulled you out of the sea,” - says he. “But we shall have to fight for our liberties. Here is a glass to - the prospect!” - </p> - <p> - “And so you are now an American?” I said curiously. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, strake and keelson,—as good a one as though I had got my sap in - the Maine forests. A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon - modern civilization. And I have here,” he continued, tapping his pocket, - “some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which Mr. - Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended. To speak truth, Richard, I am off - to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations. And I was resolved - to stop here even till I secured your company. We shall sweep the seas - together, and so let George beware!” - </p> - <p> - I smiled. But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such a - captain. However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army, let - alone a navy. - </p> - <p> - “And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack - either for long?” he demanded, his eye flashing. - </p> - <p> - “Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John,” I - said. - </p> - <p> - “You were born for the sea, Richard,” he exclaimed, raising his glass - high. “And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and - handiness than any merchant's mate I ever sailed with. The more gentlemen - get commissions, the better will be our new service.” - </p> - <p> - At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes to - say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me. I persuaded - John Paul to descend with me. We found Captain Daniel seated with Mr. - Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase. - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” I said to my old friend, “I have a rare joy this day in making - known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you a score of - times. He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose charity took me - to London, and who got no other reward for his faith than three weeks in a - debtors' prison. For his honour, as I have told you, would allow him to - accept none, nor his principles to take the commission in the Royal Navy - which Mr. Fox offered him.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure. “Faith, Mr. - Jones,” he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows, - “this is well met, indeed. I have been longing these many years for a - chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and gone - to express my gratitude.” - </p> - <p> - “I have my reward now, captain,” replied John Paul; “a sight of you is to - have Richard's whole life revealed. And what says Mr. Congreve? - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “'For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, - And tho' a late, a sure reward succeeds.' -</pre> - <p> - “Tho' I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous. And you, who - know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his - companionship.” - </p> - <p> - I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him - with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of - their faces. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs,” I - explained. - </p> - <p> - “And do you find it more to your taste than seafaring, Mr. Jones?” - inquired Mr. Chase. - </p> - <p> - This brought forth a most vehement protest, and another quotation. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir,” he cried, “to be - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - 'Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, - To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,' -</pre> - <p> - is an animal's existence. I have thrown it over, sir, with a right good - will, and am now on my way to Philadelphia to obtain a commission in the - navy soon to be born.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Chase smiled. John Paul little suspected that he was a member of the - Congress. - </p> - <p> - “This is news indeed, Mr. Jones,” he said. “I have yet to hear of the - birth of this infant navy, for which we have not yet begun to make - swaddling clothes.” - </p> - <p> - “We are not yet an infant state, sir,” Mr. Carroll put in, with a shade of - rebuke. For Maryland was well content with the government she had enjoyed, - and her best patriots long after shunned the length of secession. “I - believe and pray that the King will come to his senses. And as for the - navy, it is folly. How can we hope to compete with England on the sea?” - </p> - <p> - “All great things must have a beginning sir,” replied John Paul, launching - forth at once, nothing daunted by such cold conservatism. “What Israelite - brickmaker of Pharaoh's dreamed of Solomon's temple? Nay, Moses himself - had no conception of it. And God will send us our pillars of cloud and of - fire. We must be reconciled to our great destiny, Mr. Carroll. No fight - ever was won by man or nation content with half a victory. We have forests - to build an hundred armadas, and I will command a fleet and it is given - me.” - </p> - <p> - The gentlemen listened in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “I' faith, I believe you, sir,” cried Captain Daniel, with admiration. - </p> - <p> - The others, too, were somehow fallen under the spell of this remarkable - individuality. “What plan would you pursue, sir?” asked Mr. Chase, - betraying more interest than he cared to show. - </p> - <p> - “What plan, sir!” said Captain John Paul, those wonderful eyes of his - alight. “In the first place, we Americans build the fastest ships in the - world,—yours of the Chesapeake are as fleet as any. Here, if I am - not mistaken, one hundred and eighty-two were built in the year '71. They - are idle now. To them I would issue letters of marque, to harry England's - trade. From Carolina to Maine we have the wood and iron to build cruisers, - in harbours that may not easily be got at. And skilled masters and seamen - to elude the enemy.” - </p> - <p> - “But a navy must be organized, sir. It must be an unit,” objected Mr. - Carroll. “And you would not for many years have force enough, or - discipline enough, to meet England's navy.” - </p> - <p> - “I would never meet it, sir,” he replied instantly. “That would be the - height of folly. I would divide our forces into small, swift-sailing - squadrons, of strength sufficient to repel his cruisers. And I would carry - the war straight into his unprotected ports of trade. I can name a score - of such defenceless places, and I know every shoal of their harbours. For - example, Whitehaven might be entered. That is a town of fifty thousand - inhabitants. The fleet of merchantmen might with the greatest ease be - destroyed, a contribution levied, and Ireland's coal cut off for a winter. - The whole of the shipping might be swept out of the Clyde. Newcastle is - another likely place, and in almost any of the Irish ports valuable - vessels may be found. The Baltic and West Indian fleets are to be - intercepted. I have reflected upon these matters for years, gentlemen. - They are perfectly feasible. And I'll warrant you cannot conceive the - havoc and consternation their fulfilment would spread in England.” - </p> - <p> - If the divine power of genius ever made itself felt, 'twas on that May - evening, at candle-light, in the Annapolis Coffee House. With my own eyes - I witnessed two able and cautious statesmen of a cautious province - thrilled to the pitch of enthusiasm by this strange young man of eight and - twenty. As for good Captain Daniel, enthusiasm is but a poor word to - express his feelings. A map was sent for and spread out upon the table. - And it was a late hour when Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll went home, - profoundly impressed. Mr. Chase charged John Paul look him up in Congress. - </p> - <p> - The next morning I bade Captain Daniel a solemn good-by, and rode away - with John Paul to Baltimore. Thence we took stage to New Castle on the - Delaware, and were eventually landed by Mr. Tatlow's stage-boat at Crooked - Billet wharf, Philadelphia. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - A BRIEF SUMMARY, WHICH BRINGS THIS BIOGRAPHY TO THE FAMOUS - FIGHT OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD AND THE SERAPIS - - BY DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL -</pre> - <p> - Mr. Richard Carvel refers here to the narrative of his experiences in the - War of the Revolution, which he had written in the year 1805 or 1806. The - insertion of that account would swell this book, already too long, out of - all proportion. Hence I take it upon myself, with apologies, to compress - it. - </p> - <p> - Not until October of that year, 1775, was the infant navy born. Mr. Carvel - was occupied in the interval in the acquirement of practical seamanship - and the theory of maritime warfare under the most competent of - instructors, John Paul Jones. An interesting side light is thrown upon the - character of that hero by the fact that, with all his supreme confidence - in his ability, he applied to Congress only for a first lieutenancy. This - was in deference to the older men before that body. “I hoped,” said he, - “in that rank to gain much useful knowledge from those of more experience - than myself.” His lack of assertion for once cost him dear. He sailed on - the New Providence expedition under Commodore Hopkins as first lieutenant - of the Alfred, thirty; and he soon discovered that, instead of gaining - information, he was obliged to inform others. He trained the men so - thoroughly in the use of the great guns “that they went through the - motions of broadsides and rounds exactly as soldiers generally perform the - manual exercise.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Jones was not long in fixing the attention and earning the - gratitude of the nation, and of its Commander-in-Chief, General - Washington. While in command of the Providence, twelve four-pounders, his - successful elusions of the 'Cerberus', which hounded him, and his escape - from the 'Solebay', are too famous to be dwelt upon here. Obtaining the - Alfred, he captured and brought into Boston ten thousand suits of uniform - for Washington's shivering army. Then, by the bungling of Congress, - thirteen officers were promoted over his head. The bitterness this act - engendered in the soul of one whose thirst for distinction was as great as - Captain Jones's may be imagined. To his everlasting credit be it recorded - that he remained true to the country to which he had dedicated his life - and his talents. And it was not until 1781 that he got the justice due - him. - </p> - <p> - That the rough and bluff captains of the American service should have - regarded a man of Paul Jones's type with suspicion is not surprising. They - resented his polish and accomplishments, and could not understand his - language. Perhaps it was for this reason, as well as a reward for his - brilliant services, that he was always given a separate command. In the - summer of 1777 he was singled out for the highest gift in the power of the - United States, nothing less than that of the magnificent frigate 'Indien', - then building at Amsterdam. And he was ordered to France in command of the - 'Ranger', a new ship then fitting at Portsmouth. Captain Jones was the - admiration of all the young officers in the navy, and was immediately - flooded with requests to sail with him. One of his first acts, after - receiving his command, was to apply to the Marine Committee for Mr. - Carvel. The favour was granted. - </p> - <p> - My grandfather had earned much commendation from his superiors. He had - sailed two cruises as master's mate of the Cabot, and was then serving as - master of the Trumbull, Captain Saltonstall. This was shortly after that - frigate had captured the two British transports off New York. - </p> - <p> - Captain Jones has been at pains to mention in his letters the services - rendered him by Mr. Carvel in fitting out the Ranger. And my grandfather - gives a striking picture of the captain. At that time the privateers, with - the larger inducements of profit they offered, were getting all the best - seamen. John Paul had but to take two turns with a man across the dock, - and he would sign papers. - </p> - <p> - Captain Jones was the first to raise the new flag of the stars and stripes - over a man-o'-war. They got away on November 14, 1777, with a fair crew - and a poor lot of officers. Mr. Carvel had many a brush with the mutinous - first lieutenant Simpson. Family influence deterred the captain from - placing this man under arrest, and even Dr. Franklin found trouble, some - years after, in bringing about his dismissal from the service. To add to - the troubles, the Ranger proved crank and slow-sailing; and she had only - one barrel of rum aboard, which made the men discontented. - </p> - <p> - Bringing the official news of Burgoyne's surrender, which was to cause - King Louis to acknowledge the independence of the United States, the - Ranger arrived at Nantes, December 2. Mr. Carvel accompanied Captain Jones - to Paris, where a serious blow awaited him. The American Commissioners - informed him that the Indien had been transferred to France to prevent her - confiscation. That winter John Paul spent striving in vain for a better - ship, and imbibing tactics from the French admirals. Incidentally, he - obtained a salute for the American flag. The cruise of the Ranger in - English waters the following spring was a striking fulfilment, with an - absurdly poor and inadequate force, of the plan set forth by John Paul - Jones in the Annapolis Coffee House. His descent upon Whitehaven spread - terror and consternation broadcast through England, and he was branded as - a pirate and a traitor. Mr. Carvel was fortunately not of the landing - party on St. Mary's Isle, which place he had last beheld in John Paul's - company, on the brigantine John, when entering Kirkcudbright. The object - of that expedition, as is well known, was to obtain the person of the Earl - of Selkirk, in order to bring about the rescue of the unfortunate - Americans suffering in British prisons. After the celebrated capture of - the sloop-of-war Drake, Paul Jones returned to France a hero. - </p> - <p> - If Captain Jones was ambitious of personal glory, he may never, at least, - be accused of mercenary motives. The ragged crew of the Ranger was paid in - part out of his own pocket, and for a whole month he supported the Drake's - officers and men, no provision having been made for prisoners. He was at - large expense in fitting out the Ranger, and he bought back at twice what - it was worth the plate taken from St. Mary's Isle, getting but a tardy - recognition from the Earl of Selkirk for such a noble and unheard-of - action. And, I take pride in writing it, Mr. Carvel spent much of what he - had earned at Gordon's Pride in a like honourable manner. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel's description of the hero's reception at Versailles is graphic - and very humorous. For all his republican principles John Paul never got - over his love of courts, and no man was ever a more thorough courtier. He - exchanged compliments with Queen Marie Antoinette, who was then in the - bloom of her beauty, and declared that she was a “good girl, and deserved - to be happy.” - </p> - <p> - The unruly Simpson sailed for America in the Ranger in July, Captain Jones - being retained in France “for a particular enterprise.” And through the - kindness of Dr. Franklin, Mr. Carvel remained with him. Then followed - another period of heartrending disappointment. The fine ship the French - government promised him was not forthcoming, though Captain Jones wrote a - volume of beautiful letters to every one of importance, from her Royal - Highness the Duchess of Chartres to his Most Christian Majesty, Louis, - King of France and Navarre. At length, when he was sitting one day in - unusual dejection and railing at the vanity of courts and kings, Mr. - Carvel approached him with a book in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “What have you there, Richard?” the captain demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Franklin's Maxims,” replied my grandfather. They were great - favourites with him. The captain took the book and began mechanically to - turn over the pages. Suddenly he closed it with a bang, jumped up, and put - on his coat and hat. Mr. Carvel looked on in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you going, sir?” says he. - </p> - <p> - “To Paris, sir,” says the captain. “Dr. Franklin has taught me more wisdom - in a second than I had in all my life before. 'If you wish to have any - business faithfully and expeditiously performed, go and do it yourself; - otherwise, send.'” - </p> - <p> - As a result of that trip he got the Duras, which he renamed the 'Bon homme - Richard' in honour of Dr. Franklin. The Duras was an ancient Indiaman with - a high poop, which made my grandfather exclaim, when he saw her, at the - remarkable fulfilment of old Stanwix's prophecy. She was perfectly rotten, - and in the constructor's opinion not worth refitting. Her lowest deck (too - low for the purpose) was pierced aft with three ports on a side, and six - worn-out eighteen-pounders mounted there. Some of them burst in the - action, killing their people. The main battery, on the deck above, was - composed of twenty-eight twelve-pounders. On the uncovered deck eight - nine-pounders were mounted. Captain Jones again showed his desire to serve - the cause by taking such a ship, and not waiting for something better. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime the American frigate 'Alliance' had brought Lafayette to - France, and was added to the little squadron that was to sail with the - 'Bon homme Richard'. One of the most fatal mistakes Congress ever made was - to put Captain Pierre Landais in command of her, out of compliment to the - French allies. He was a man whose temper and vagaries had failed to get - him a command in his own navy. His insulting conduct and treachery to - Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's manuscript: they - were amply proved by the written statements of other officers. - </p> - <p> - The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision - between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back - into the Groix roads for repairs. Nails and rivets were with difficulty - got to hold in the sides of the old Indianian. On August 14th John Paul - Jones again set sail for English waters, with the following vessels: - Alliance, thirty-six; Pallas, thirty; Cerf, eighteen; Vengeance, twelve; - and two French privateers. Owing to the humiliating conditions imposed - upon him by the French Minister of Marine, Commodore Jones did not have - absolute command. In a gale on the 26th the two privateers and the Cerf - parted company, never to return. After the most outrageous conduct off the - coast of Ireland, Landais, in the 'Alliance', left the squadron on - September 6th, and did not reappear until the 23d, the day of the battle. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel was the third lieutenant of the 'Bon homme Richard', tho' he - served as second in the action. Her first lieutenant (afterwards the - celebrated Commodore Richard Dale) was a magnificent man, one worthy in - every respect of the captain he served. When the hour of battle arrived, - these two and the sailing master, and a number of raw midshipmen, were the - only line-officers left, and two French officers of marines. - </p> - <p> - The rest had been lost in various ways. And the crew of the 'Bon homme - Richard' was as sorry a lot as ever trod a deck. Less than three score of - the seamen were American born; near four score were British, inclusive of - sixteen Irish; one hundred and thirty-seven were French soldiers, who - acted as marines; and the rest of the three hundred odd souls to fight her - were from all over the earth,—Malays and Maltese and Portuguese. In - the hold were more than one hundred and fifty English prisoners. - </p> - <p> - This was a vessel and a force, truly, with which to conquer a fifty-gun - ship of the latest type, and with a picked crew. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Carvel's chapter opens with Landais's sudden reappearance on the - morning of the day the battle was fought. He shows the resentment and - anger against the Frenchman felt by all on board, from cabin-boy to - commodore. But none went so far as to accuse the captain of the 'Alliance' - of such supreme treachery as he was to show during the action. Cowardice - may have been in part responsible for his holding aloof from the two duels - in which the Richard and the Pallas engaged. But the fact that he poured - broadsides into the Richard, and into her off side, makes it seem probable - that his motive was to sink the commodore's ship, and so get the credit of - saving the day, to the detriment of the hero who won it despite all - disasters. To account for the cry that was raised when first she attacked - the Richard, it must be borne in mind that the crew of the 'Alliance' was - largely composed of Englishmen. It was thought that these had mutinied and - taken her. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LII. HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE “SERAPIS” - </h2> - <p> - When I came on deck the next morning our yards were a-drip with a clammy - fog, and under it the sea was roughed by a southwest breeze. We were - standing to the northward before it. I remember reflecting as I paused in - the gangway that the day was Thursday, September the 23d, and that we were - near two months out of Groix with this tub of an Indiaman. In all that - time we had not so much as got a whiff of an English frigate, though we - had almost put a belt around the British Isles. Then straining my eyes - through the mist, I made out two white blurs of sails on our starboard - beam. - </p> - <p> - Honest Jack Pearce, one of the few good seamen we had aboard, was rubbing - down one of the nines beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Jack,” said I, “what have we there? Another prize?” For that - question had become a joke on board the 'Bon homme Richard' since the - prisoners had reached an hundred and fifty, and half our crew was gone to - man the ships. - </p> - <p> - “Bless your 'art, no, sir,” said he. “'Tis that damned Frenchy Landais in - th' Alliance. She turns up with the Pallas at six bells o' the middle - watch.” - </p> - <p> - “So he's back, is he?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, he's back,” he returned, with a grunt that was half a growl; “arter - three weeks breakin' o' liberty. I tell 'ee what, sir, them Frenchies is - treecherous devils, an' not to be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An' - they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'. Ez - fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the round house - when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin on us when - he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen as was there - that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that the commodore - weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones be bound up in a - hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn't punish him. Be that - so, Mr. Carvel?” - </p> - <p> - I said that it was. - </p> - <p> - “Shiver my bulkheads!” cried Jack, “I gave my oath to that same, sir. For - I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arm an' he - had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies,” said Jack, rolling - his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, “they sits on their bottoms in - Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's and mouths, and - daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers in th' Bay o' - Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into every port in England - with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o' Frenchies, Mr. - Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twould give me the - greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at that there - Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t' my mind - she couldn't be christened better, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I left him patting the gun with a tender affection. - </p> - <p> - The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knot of - midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, and - cursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing him up - short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coasting - pilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped for Garrett - or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the first lieutenant stood - talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the French marines. The scavengers - were sweeping down, and part of the after guard was bending a new - bolt-rope on a storm staysail. - </p> - <p> - Then the—fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather - quarter, the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go after a - brigantine, “flying like a snow laden with English bricks,” as Midshipman - Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with us that we - crane our necks to windward. - </p> - <p> - At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten up the - fog, and the shores of England stood out boldly. Spurn Head was looming up - across our bows, while that of Flamborough jutted into the sea behind us. - I had the starboard watch piped to dinner, and reported twelve o'clock to - the commodore. And had just got permission to “make it,” according to a - time-honoured custom at sea, when another “Sail, ho!” came down from - aloft. - </p> - <p> - “Where away?” called back Mr. Linthwaite, who was midshipman of the - forecastle. - </p> - <p> - “Starboard quarter, rounding Flamborough Head, sir. Looks like a - full-rigged ship, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I sent the messenger into the great cabin to report. He was barely out of - sight before a second cry came from the masthead: “Another sail rounding - Flamborough, sir!” - </p> - <p> - The officers on deck hurried to the taffrail. I had my glass, but not a - dot was visible above the sea-line. The messenger was scarcely back again - when there came a third hail: “Two more rounding the head, sir! Four in - all, sir!” - </p> - <p> - Here was excitement indeed. Without waiting for instructions, I gave the - command: - </p> - <p> - “Up royal yards! Royal yardmen in the tops!” - </p> - <p> - We were already swaying out of the chains, when Lieutenant Dale appeared - and asked the coasting pilot what fleet it was. He answered that it was - the Baltic fleet, under convoy of the Countess of Scarborough, twenty - guns, and the Serapis, forty-four. - </p> - <p> - “Forty-four,” repeated Mr. Dale, smiling; “that means fifty, as English - frigates are rated. We shall have our hands full this day, my lads,” said - he. “You have done well to get the royals on her, Mr. Carvel.” - </p> - <p> - While he was yet speaking, three more sail were reported from aloft. Then - there was a hush on deck, and the commodore himself appeared. As he - reached the poop we saluted him and informed him of what had happened. - </p> - <p> - “The Baltic fleet,” said he, promptly. “Call away the pilotboat with Mr. - Lunt to follow the brigantine, sir, and ease off before the wind. Signal - 'General Chase' to the squadron, Mr. Mayrant.” - </p> - <p> - The men had jumped to the weather braces before I gave the command, and - all the while more sail were counting from the crosstrees, until their - number had reached forty-one. The news spread over the ship; the starboard - watch trooped up with their dinners half eaten. Then a faint booming of - guns drifted down upon our ears. - </p> - <p> - “They've got sight of us, sir,” shouted the lookout. “They be firing guns - to windward, an' letting fly their topgallant sheets.” - </p> - <p> - At that the commodore hurried forward, the men falling back to the - bulwarks respectfully, and he mounted the fore-rigging as agile as any - topman, followed by his aide with a glass. From the masthead he sung out - to me to set our stu'nsails, and he remained aloft till near seven bells - of the watch. At that hour the merchantmen had all scuttled to safety - behind the head, and from the deck a great yellow King's frigate could be - plainly seen standing south to meet us, followed by her smaller consort. - Presently she hove to, and through our glasses we discerned a small boat - making for her side, and then a man clambering up her sea-ladder. - </p> - <p> - “That be the bailiff of Scarborough, sir,” said the coasting pilot, “come - to tell her cap'n 'tis Paul Jones he has to fight.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment the commodore lay down from aloft, and our hearts beat high - as he walked swiftly aft to the quarterdeck, where he paused for a word - with Mr. Dale. Meanwhile Mr. Mayrant hove out the signal for the squadron - to form line of battle. - </p> - <p> - “Recall the pilot-boat, Mr. Carvel,” said the commodore, quietly. “Then - you may beat to quarters, and I will take the ship, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, sir.” I raised my trumpet. “All hands clear ship for action!” - </p> - <p> - It makes me sigh now to think of the cheer which burst from that - tatterdemalion crew. Who were they to fight the bone and sinew of the - King's navy in a rotten ship of an age gone by? And who was he, that stood - so straight upon the quarter-deck, to instil this scum with love and - worship and fervour to blind them to such odds? But the bo'suns piped and - sang out the command in fog-horn voices, the drums beat the long roll and - the fifes whistled, and the decks became suddenly alive. Breechings were - loosed and gun-tackles unlashed, rammer and sponge laid out, and pike and - pistol and cutlass placed where they would be handy when the time came to - rush the enemy's decks. The powder-monkeys tumbled over each other in - their hurry to provide cartridges, and grape and canister and doubleheaded - shot were hoisted up from below. The trimmers rigged the splinter - nettings, got out spare spars and blocks and ropes against those that were - sure to be shot away, and rolled up casks of water to put out the fires. - Tubs were filled with sand, for blood is slippery upon the boards. The - French marines, their scarlet and white very natty in contrast to most of - our ragged wharf-rats at the guns, were mustered on poop and forecastle, - and some were sent aloft to the tops to assist the tars there to sweep the - British decks with handgrenade and musket. And, lastly, the surgeon and - his mates went below to cockpit and steerage, to make ready for the - grimmest work of all. - </p> - <p> - My own duties took me to the dark lower deck, a vile place indeed, and - reeking with the smell of tar and stale victuals. There I had charge of - the battery of old eighteens, while Mr. Dale commanded the twelves on the - middle deck. We loaded our guns with two shots apiece, though I had my - doubts about their standing such a charge, and then the men stripped until - they stood naked to the waist, waiting for the fight to begin. For we - could see nothing of what was going forward. I was pacing up and down, for - it was a task to quiet the nerves in that dingy place with the gun-ports - closed, when about three bells of the dog, Mr. Mease, the purser, appeared - on the ladder. - </p> - <p> - “Lunt has not come back with the pilot-boat, Carvel,” said he. “I have - volunteered for a battery, and am assigned to this. You are to report to - the commodore.” - </p> - <p> - I thanked him, and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. The 'Bon homme - Richard' was lumbering like a leaden ship before the wind, swaying - ponderously, her topsails flapping and her heavy blocks whacking against - the yards. And there was the commodore, erect, and with fire in his eye, - giving sharp commands to the men at the wheel. I knew at once that no - trifle had disturbed him. He wore a brand-new uniform; a blue coat with - red lapels and yellow buttons, and slashed cuffs and stand-up collar, a - red waistcoat with tawny lace, blue breeches, white silk stockings, and a - cocked hat and a sword. Into his belt were stuck two brace of pistols. - </p> - <p> - It took some effort to realize, as I waited silently for his attention, - that this was the man of whose innermost life I had had so intimate a - view. Who had taken me to the humble cottage under Criffel, who had poured - into my ear his ambitions and his wrongs when we had sat together in the - dingy room of the Castle Yard sponging-house. Then some of those ludicrous - scenes on the road to London came up to me, for which the sky-blue frock - was responsible. And yet this commodore was not greatly removed from him I - had first beheld on the brigantine John. His confidence in his future had - not so much as wavered since that day. That future was now not so far - distant as the horizon, and he was ready to meet it. - </p> - <p> - “You will take charge of the battery of nines on this deck, Mr. Carvel,” - said he, at length. - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir,” I replied, and was making my way down the poop ladder, - when I heard him calling me, in a low voice, by the old name: “Richard!” - </p> - <p> - I turned and followed him aft to the taffrail, where we were clear of the - French soldiers. The sun was hanging red over the Yorkshire Wolds, the - Head of Flamborough was in the blue shadow, and the clouds were like rose - leaves in the sky. The enemy had tacked and was standing west, with ensign - and jack and pennant flying, the level light washing his sails to the - whiteness of paper. 'Twas then I first remarked that the Alliance had left - her place in line and was sailing swiftly ahead toward the Serapis. The - commodore seemed to read my exclamation. - </p> - <p> - “Landais means to ruin me yet, by hook or crook,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “But he can't intend to close with them,” I replied. “He has not the - courage.” - </p> - <p> - “God knows what he intends,” said the commodore, bitterly. “It is no good, - at all events.” - </p> - <p> - My heart bled for him. Some minutes passed that he did not speak, making - shift to raise his glass now and again, and I knew that he was gripped by - a strong emotion. “'Twas so he ever behaved when the stress was greatest. - Presently he lays down the glass on the signal-chest, fumbles in his coat, - and brings out the little gold brooch I had not set eyes on since Dolly - and he and I had stood together on the Betsy's deck. - </p> - <p> - “When you see her, Richard, tell her that I have kept it as sacred as her - memory,” he said thickly. “She will recall what I spoke of you when she - gave it me. You have been leal and true to me indeed, and many a black - hour have you tided me over since this war' began. Do you know how she may - be directed to?” he concluded, with abruptness. - </p> - <p> - I glanced at him, surprised at the question. He was staring at the English - shore. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Ripley, of Lincoln's Inn, used to be Mr. Manners's lawyer,” I - answered. - </p> - <p> - He took out a little note-book and wrote that down carefully. “And now,” - he continued, “God keep you, my friend. We must win, for we fight with a - rope around our necks.” - </p> - <p> - “But you, Captain Paul,” I said, “is—is there no one?” - </p> - <p> - His face took on the look of melancholy it had worn so often of late, - despite his triumphs. That look was the stamp of fate. - </p> - <p> - “Richard,” replied he, with an ineffable sadness, “I am naught but a - wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no ties, no kindred,—no - real friends, save you and Dale, and some of these honest fellows whom I - lead to slaughter. My ambition is seamed with a flaw. And all my life I - must be striving, striving, until I am laid in the grave. I know that now, - and it is you yourself who have taught me. For I have violently broken - forth from those bounds which God in His wisdom did set.” - </p> - <p> - I pressed his hand, and with bowed head went back to my station, - profoundly struck by the truth of what he had spoken. Though he fought - under the flag of freedom, the curse of the expatriated was upon his head. - </p> - <p> - Shortly afterward he appeared at the poop rail, straight and alert, his - eye piercing each man as it fell on him. He was the commodore once more. - </p> - <p> - The twilight deepened, until you scarce could see your hands. There was no - sound save the cracking of the cabins and the tumbling of the blocks, and - from time to time a muttered command. An age went by before the trimmers - were sent to the lee braces, and the Richard rounded lazily to. And a - great frigate loomed out of the night beside us, half a pistolshot away. - </p> - <p> - “What ship is that?” came the hail, intense out of the silence. - </p> - <p> - “I don't hear you,” replied our commodore, for he had not yet got his - distance. - </p> - <p> - Again came the hail: “What ship is that?” - </p> - <p> - John Paul Jones leaned forward over the rail. - </p> - <p> - “Pass the word below to the first lieutenant to begin the action, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the deck gave a mighty leap, - a hot wind that seemed half of flame blew across my face, and the roar - started the pain throbbing in my ears. At the same instant the screech of - shot sounded overhead, we heard the sharp crack-crack of wood rending and - splitting,—as with a great broadaxe,—and a medley of blocks - and ropes rattled to the deck with the 'thud of the falling bodies. Then, - instead of stillness, moans and shrieks from above and below, oaths and - prayers in English and French and Portuguese, and in the heathen gibberish - of the East. As the men were sponging and ramming home in the first fury - of hatred, the carpenter jumped out under the battle-lanthorn at the main - hatch, crying in a wild voice that the old eighteens had burst, killing - half their crews and blowing up the gundeck above them. At this many of - our men broke and ran for the hatches. - </p> - <p> - “Back, back to your quarters! The first man to desert will be shot down!” - </p> - <p> - It was the same strange voice that had quelled the mutiny on the John, - that had awed the men of Kirkcudbright. The tackles were seized and the - guns run out once more, and fired, and served again in an agony of haste. - In the darkness shot shrieked hither and thither about us like demons, - striking everywhere, sometimes sending casks of salt water over the - nettings. Incessantly the quartermaster walked to and fro scattering sand - over the black pools that kept running, running together as the minutes - were tolled out, and the red flashes from the guns revealed faces in a - hideous contortion. One little fellow, with whom I had had many a lively - word at mess, had his arm taken off at the shoulder as he went skipping - past me with the charge under his coat, and I have but to listen now to - hear the patter of the blood on the boards as they carried him away to the - cockpit below. Out of the main hatch, from that charnel house, rose one - continuous cry. It was an odd trick of the mind or soul that put a hymn on - my lips in that dreadful hour of carnage and human misery, when men were - calling the name of their Maker in vain. But as I ran from crew to crew, I - sang over and over again a long-forgotten Christmas carol, and with it - came a fleeting memory of my mother on the stairs at Carvel Hall, and of - the negroes gathered on the lawn without. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly, glancing up at the dim cloud of sails above, I saw that we were - aback and making sternway. We might have tossed a biscuit aboard the big - Serapis as she glided ahead of us. The broadsides thundered, and great - ragged scantlings brake from our bulwarks and flew as high as the - mizzen-top; and the shrieks and groans redoubled. Involuntarily my eyes - sought the poop, and I gave a sigh of relief at the sight of the - commanding figure in the midst of the whirling smoke. We shotted our guns - with double-headed, manned our lee braces, and gathered headway. - </p> - <p> - “Stand by to board!” - </p> - <p> - The boatswains' whistles trilled through the ship, pikes were seized, and - pistol and cutlass buckled on. But even as we waited with set teeth, our - bows ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For the Richard's - rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. So we backed and - filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard, himself being aback - at the time. Several of his shot crushed through the bulwarks in front of - me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half of its crew. And it is only - a miracle that I stand alive to be able to tell the tale. Then I caught a - glimpse of the quartermaster whirling the spokes of our wheel, and over - went our helm to lay us athwart the forefoot of the 'Serapis', where we - might rake and rush her decks. Our old Indiaman answered but doggedly; and - the huge bowsprit of the Serapis, towering over our heads, snapped off our - spanker gaff and fouled our mizzen rigging. - </p> - <p> - “A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!” I heard the commodore shout, and saw the - sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead and wounded - and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up a smeared rope's - end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we found the commodore - himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with the severed stays and - shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marines looking on. - </p> - <p> - “Don't swear, Mr. Stacey,” said he, severely; “in another minute we may - all be in eternity.” - </p> - <p> - I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the stern of - the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries into - play. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadside into - her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunching together, the - disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward to a leeward tide - in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him to shift his crews - or to fling open his starboard gun-ports. - </p> - <p> - Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those in agony - lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlight - filtered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon the boards. - A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks. - </p> - <p> - “Have you struck, sir?” - </p> - <p> - The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I have not yet begun to fight.” - </p> - <p> - Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping of - musketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there about the - decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling to - larboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of the - space between the ships. The Englishman had blown off his gun-ports. And - next some one shouted that our battery of twelves was fighting them muzzle - to muzzle below, our rammers leaning into the Serapis to send their shot - home. No chance then for the thoughts which had tortured us in moments of - suspense. That was a fearful hour, when a shot had scarce to leap a - cannon's length to find its commission; when the belches of the English - guns burned the hair of our faces; when Death was sovereign, merciful or - cruel at his pleasure. The red flashes disclosed many an act of coolness - and of heroism. I saw a French lad whip off his coat when a gunner called - for a wad, and another, who had been a scavenger, snatch the rammer from - Pearce's hands when he staggered with a grape-shot through his chest. Poor - Jack Pearce! He did not live to see the work 'Scolding Sairy' was to do - that night. I had but dragged him beyond reach of the recoil when he was - gone. - </p> - <p> - Then a cry came floating down from aloft. Thrice did I hear it, like one - waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. “The Alliance! The - Alliance!” But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout the ship, - when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aft forward. - “She rakes us! She rakes us!” And the French soldiers tumbled headlong - down from the poop with a wail of “Les Anglais font prise!” “Her - Englishmen have taken her, and turned her guns against us!” Our captain - was left standing alone beside the staff where the stars and stripes waved - black in the moonlight. - </p> - <p> - “The Alliance is hauling off, sir!” called the midshipman of the - mizzen-top. “She is making for the Pallas and the Countess of - Scarborough.” - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir,” was all the commodore said. - </p> - <p> - To us hearkening for his answer his voice betrayed no sign of dismay. - Seven times, I say, was that battle lost, and seven times regained again. - What was it kept the crews at their quarters and the officers at their - posts through that hell of flame and shot, when a madman could scarce have - hoped for victory? What but the knowledge that somewhere in the swirl - above us was still that unswerving and indomitable man who swept all - obstacles from before him, and into whose mind the thought of defeat could - not enter. His spirit held us to our task, for flesh and blood might not - have endured alone. - </p> - <p> - We had now but one of our starboard nine-pounders on its carriage, and - word came from below that our battery of twelves was all but knocked to - scrap iron, and their ports blown into one yawning gap. Indeed, we did not - have to be told that sides and stanchions had been carried away, for the - deck trembled and teetered under us as we dragged 'Scolding Sairy' from - her stand in the larboard waist, clearing a lane for her between the - bodies. Our feet slipped and slipped as we hove, and burning bits of sails - and splinters dropping from aloft fell unheeded on our heads and - shoulders. With the energy of desperation I was bending to the pull, when - the Malay in front of me sank dead across the tackle. But, ere I could - touch him, he was tenderly lifted aside, and a familiar figure seized the - rope where the dead man's hands had warmed it. Truly, the commodore was - everywhere that night. - </p> - <p> - “Down to the surgeon with you, Richard!” he cried. “I will look to the - battery.” - </p> - <p> - Dazed, I put my hand to my hair to find it warm and wringing wet. When I - had been hit, I knew not. But I shook my head, for the very notion of that - cockpit turned my stomach. The blood was streaming from a gash in his own - temple, to which he gave no heed, and stood encouraging that panting line - until at last the gun was got across and hooked to the ring-bolts of its - companion that lay shattered there. “Serve her with double-headed, my - lads,” he shouted, “and every shot into the Englishman's mainmast!” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, sir,” came the answer from every man of that little remnant. - </p> - <p> - The Serapis, too, was now beginning to blaze aloft, and choking wood-smoke - eddied out of the Richard's hold and mingled with the powder fumes. Then - the enemy's fire abreast us seemed to lull, and Mr. Stacey mounted the - bulwarks, and cried out: “You have cleared their decks, my hearties!” - Aloft, a man was seen to clamber from our mainyard into the very top of - the Englishman, where he threw a hand-grenade, as I thought, down her main - hatch. An instant after an explosion came like a, clap of thunder in our - faces, and a great quadrant of light flashed as high as the 'Serapis's' - trucks, and through a breach in her bulwarks I saw men running with only - the collars of their shirts upon their naked bodies. - </p> - <p> - 'Twas at this critical moment, when that fearful battle once more was won, - another storm of grape brought the spars about our heads, and that name - which we dreaded most of all was spread again. As we halted in - consternation, a dozen round shot ripped through our unengaged side, and a - babel of voices hailed the treacherous Landais with oaths and - imprecations. We made out the Alliance with a full head of canvas, black - and sharp, between us and the moon. Smoke hung above her rail. Getting - over against the signal fires blazing on Flamborough Head, she wore ship - and stood across our bows, the midshipman on the forecastle singing out to - her, by the commodore's orders, to lay the enemy by the board. There was - no response. - </p> - <p> - “Do you hear us?” yelled Mr. Linthwaite. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay,” came the reply; and with it the smoke broke from her and the - grape and canister swept our forecastle. Then the Alliance sailed away, - leaving brave Mr. Caswell among the many Landais had murdered. - </p> - <p> - The ominous clank of the chain pumps beat a sort of prelude to what - happened next. The gunner burst out of the hatch with blood running down - his face, shouting that the Richard was sinking, and yelling for quarter - as he made for the ensign-staff on the poop, for the flag was shot away. - Him the commodore felled with a pistol-butt. At the gunner's heels were - the hundred and fifty prisoners we had taken, released by the master at - arms. They swarmed out of the bowels of the ship like a horde of Tartars, - unkempt and wild and desperate with fear, until I thought that the added - weight on the scarce-supported deck would land us all in the bilges. Words - fail me when I come to describe the frightful panic of these creatures, - frenzied by the instinct of self-preservation. They surged hither and - thither as angry seas driven into a pocket of a storm-swept coast. They - trampled rough-shod over the moaning heaps of wounded and dying, and - crowded the crews at the guns, who were powerless before their numbers. - Some fought like maniacs, and others flung themselves into the sea. - </p> - <p> - Those of us who had clung to hope lost it then. Standing with my back to - the mast, beating them off with a pike, visions of an English prison-ship, - of an English gallows, came before me. I counted the seconds until the - enemy's seamen would be pouring through our ragged ports. The seventh and - last time, and we were beaten, for we had not men enough left on our two - decks to force them down again. Yes,—I shame to confess it—the - heart went clean out of me, and with that the pain pulsed and leaped in my - head like a devil unbound. At a turn of the hand I should have sunk to the - boards, had not a voice risen strong and clear above that turmoil, - compelling every man to halt trembling in his steps. - </p> - <p> - “Cast off, cast off! 'The Serapis' is sinking. To the pumps, ye fools, if - you would save your lives!” - </p> - <p> - That unerring genius of the gardener's son had struck the only chord! - </p> - <p> - They were like sheep before us as we beat them back into the reeking - hatches, and soon the pumps were heard bumping with a renewed and a - desperate vigour. Then, all at once, the towering mainmast of the enemy - cracked and tottered and swung this way and that on its loosened shrouds. - The first intense silence of the battle followed, in the midst of which - came a cry from our top: - </p> - <p> - “Their captain is hauling down, sir!” - </p> - <p> - The sound which broke from our men could scarce be called a cheer. That - which they felt as they sank exhausted on the blood of their comrades may - not have been elation. My own feeling was of unmixed wonder as I gazed at - a calm profile above me, sharp-cut against the moon. - </p> - <p> - I was moved as out of a revery by the sight of Dale swinging across to the - Serapis by the main brace pennant. Calling on some of my boarders, I - scaled our bulwarks and leaped fairly into the middle of the gangway of - the Serapis. - </p> - <p> - Such is nearly all of my remembrance of that momentous occasion. I had - caught the one glimpse of our first lieutenant in converse with their - captain and another officer, when a naked seaman came charging at me. He - had raised a pike above his shoulder ere I knew what he was about, and my - senses left me. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LIII. IN WHICH I MAKE SOME DISCOVERIES - </h2> - <p> - The room had a prodigious sense of change about it. That came over me with - something of a shock, since the moment before I had it settled that I was - in Marlboro' Street. The bare branches swaying in the wind outside should - belong to the trees in Freshwater Lane. But beyond the branches were - houses, the like of which I had no remembrance of in Annapolis. And then - my grandfather should be sitting in that window. Surely, he was there! He - moved! He was coming toward me to say: “Richard, you are forgiven,” and to - brush his eyes with his ruffles. - </p> - <p> - Then there was the bed-canopy, the pleatings of which were gone, and it - was turned white instead of the old blue. And the chimney-place! That was - unaccountably smaller, and glowed with a sea-coal fire. And the mantel was - now but a bit of a shelf, and held many things that seemed scarce at home - on the rough and painted wood,—gold filigree; and China and Japan, - and a French clock that ought not to have been just there. Ah, the - teacups! Here at last was something to touch a fibre of my brain, but a - pain came with the effort of memory. So my eyes went back to my - grandfather in the window. His face was now become black as Scipio's, and - he wore a red turban and a striped cotton gown that was too large for him. - And he was sewing. This was monstrous! - </p> - <p> - I hurried over to the tea-cups, such a twinge did that discovery give me. - But they troubled me near as much, and the sea-coal fire held strange - images. The fascination in the window was not to be denied, for it stood - in line with the houses and the trees. Suddenly there rose up before me a - gate. Yes, I knew that gate, and the girlish figure leaning over it. They - were in Prince George Street. Behind them was a mass of golden-rose - bushes, and out of these came forth a black face under a turban, saying, - “Yes, mistis, I'se comin'.” - </p> - <p> - “Mammy—Mammy Lucy!” - </p> - <p> - The figure in the window stirred, and the sewing fell its ample lap. - </p> - <p> - “Now Lawd'a mercy!” - </p> - <p> - I trembled—with a violence unspeakable. Was this but one more of - those thousand voices, harsh and gentle, rough and tender, to which I had - listened in vain this age past? The black face was hovering over me now, - and in an agony of apprehension I reached up and felt its honest - roughness. Then I could have wept for joy. - </p> - <p> - “Mammy Lucy!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Marse Dick?” - </p> - <p> - “Where—where is Miss Dolly?” - </p> - <p> - “Now, Marse Dick, doctah done say you not t' talk, suh.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is Miss Dolly?” I cried, seizing her arm. - </p> - <p> - “Hush, Marse Dick. Miss Dolly'll come terectly, suh. She's lyin' down, - suh.” - </p> - <p> - The door creaked, and in my eagerness I tried to lift myself. 'Twas Aunt - Lucy's hand that restrained me, and the next face I saw was that of - Dorothy's mother. But why did it appear so old and sorrow-lined? And why - was the hair now of a whiteness with the lace of the cap? She took my - fingers in her own, and asked me anxiously if I felt any pain. - </p> - <p> - “Where am I, Mrs. Manners?” - </p> - <p> - “You are in London, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “In Arlington Street?” - </p> - <p> - She shook her head sadly. “No, my dear, not in Arlington Street. But you - are not to talk.” - </p> - <p> - “And Dorothy? May I not see Dorothy? Aunt Lucy tells me she is here.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Manners gave the old mammy a glance of reproof, a signal that alarmed - me vastly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, tell me, Mrs. Manners! You will speak the truth. Tell me if she is - gone away?” - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy, she is here, and under this very roof. And you shall see her - as soon as Dr. Barry will permit. Which will not be soon,” she added with - a smile, “if you persist in this conduct.” - </p> - <p> - The threat had the desired effect. And Mrs. Manners quietly left the room, - and after a while as quietly came back again and sat down by the fire, - whispering to Aunt Lucy. - </p> - <p> - Fate, in some inexplicable way, had carried me into the enemy's country - and made me the guest of Mr. Marmaduke Manners. As I lay staring upward, - odd little bits of the past came floating to the top of my mind, presently - to be pieced together. The injuries Mr. Marmaduke had done me were the - first to collect, since I was searching for the cause of my resentment - against him. The incidents arrived haphazard as magic lanthorn views, but - very vivid. His denial of me before Mr. Dix, and his treachery at - Vauxhall, when he had sent me to be murdered. Next I felt myself clutching - the skin over his ribs in Arlington Street, when I had flung him across - the room in his yellow night-gown. That brought me to the most painful - scene of my life, when I had parted with Dorothy at the top of the stairs. - Afterward followed scraps of the years at Gordon's Pride, and on top of - them the talk with McAndrews. Here was the secret I sought. The crash had - come. And they were no longer in Mayfair, but must have taken a house in - some poorer part of London. This thought cast me down tremendously. - </p> - <p> - And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I fell - asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot House; - of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping through - pleasant fields and gardens. - </p> - <p> - When I awoke it was broad day once more. A gentleman sat on the edge of my - bed. He had a queer, short face, ruddy as the harvest moon, and he smiled - good-humouredly when I opened my eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I bid you good morning, Mr. Carvel, for the first time since I have made - your acquaintance,” said he. “And how do you feel, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I have never felt better in my life,” I replied, which was the whole - truth. - </p> - <p> - “Well, vastly well,” says he, laughing, “prodigious well for a young man - who has as many holes in him as have you. Do you hear him, Mrs. Manners?” - </p> - <p> - At that last word, I popped up to look about the room, and the doctor - caught hold of me with ludicrous haste. A pain shot through my body. - </p> - <p> - “Avast, avast, my hearty,” cries he. “'Tis a miracle you can speak, let - alone carry your bed and walk for a while yet.” And he turned to Dorothy's - mother, whom I beheld smiling at me. “You will give him the physic, ma'am, - at the hours I have chosen. Egad, I begin to think we shall come through. - </p> - <p> - “But pray remember, ma'am, if he talks, you are to put a wad in his - mouth.” - </p> - <p> - “He shall have no opportunity to talk, Dr. Barry,” said Mrs. Manners. - </p> - <p> - “Save for a favour I have to ask you, doctor,” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's bodkins! Already, sir? And what may that be?” - </p> - <p> - “That you will allow me to see Miss Manners.” - </p> - <p> - He shook with laughter, and then winked at me very roguishly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” says he, “and faith, I should be worse than cruel. First she comes - imploring me to see you, and so prettily that a man of oak could not - refuse her. And now it is you begging to see her. Had your eyes been - opened, sir, you might have had many a glimpse of Miss Dolly these three - weeks past.” - </p> - <p> - “What! She has been watching with me?” I asked, in a rapture not to be - expressed. - </p> - <p> - “'Od's, but those are secrets. And the medical profession is - close-mouthed, Mr. Carvel. So you want to see her? No,” cries he, “'tis - not needful to swear it on the Evangels. And I let her come in, will you - give me your honour as a gentleman not to speak more than two words to - her?” - </p> - <p> - “I promise anything, and you will not deny me looking at her,” said I. - </p> - <p> - He shook again, all over. “You rascal! You sad dog, sir! No, sir, faith, - you must shut your eyes. Eh, madam, must he not shut his eyes?” - </p> - <p> - “They were playmates, doctor,” answers Mrs. Manners. She was laughing a - little, too. - </p> - <p> - “Well, she shall come in. But remember that I shall have my ear to the - keyhole, and you go beyond your promise, out she's whisked. So I caution - you not to spend rashly those two words, sir.” - </p> - <p> - And he followed Mrs. Manners out of the room, frowning and shaking his - fist at me in mock fierceness. I would have died for the man. For a space—a - prodigious long space—I lay very still, my heart bumping like a - gun-carriage broke loose, and my eyes riveted on the crack of the door. - Then I caught the sound of a light footstep, the knob turned, and joy - poured into my soul with the sweep of a Fundy tide. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy!” I cried. “Dorothy!” - </p> - <p> - She put her finger to her lips. - </p> - <p> - “There, sir,” said she, “now you have spoken them both at once!” - </p> - <p> - She closed the door softly behind her, and stood looking down upon me with - such a wondrous love-light in her eyes as no man may describe. My fancy - had not lifted me within its compass, my dreams even had not imagined it. - And the fire from which it sprang does not burn in humbler souls. So she - stood gazing, those lips which once had been the seat of pride now parted - in a smile of infinite tenderness. But her head she still held high, and - her body straight. Down the front of her dress fell a tucked apron of the - whitest linen, and in her hand was a cup of steaming broth. - </p> - <p> - “You are to take this, Richard,” she commanded. And added, with a touch of - her old mischief, “Mind, sir, if I hear a sound out of you, I am to - disappear like the fairy godmother.” - </p> - <p> - I knew full well she meant it, and the terror of losing her kept me - silent. She put down the cup, placed another pillow behind my head with a - marvellous deftness, and then began feeding me in dainty spoonfuls - something which was surely nectar. And mine eyes, too, had their feast. - Never before had I seen my lady in this gentle guise, this task of nursing - the sick, which her doing raised to a queenly art. - </p> - <p> - Her face had changed some. Years of trial unknown to me had left an - ennobling mark upon her features, increasing their power an hundred fold. - And the levity of girlish years was gone. How I burned to question her! - But her lips were now tight closed, her glance now and anon seeking mine, - and then falling with an exquisite droop to the coverlet. For the old - archness, at least, would never be eradicated. Presently, after she had - taken the cup and smoothed my pillow, I reached out for her hand. It was a - boldness of which I had not believed myself capable; but she did not - resist, and even, as I thought, pressed my fingers with her own slender - ones, the red of our Maryland holly blushing in her cheeks. And what need - of words, indeed! Our thoughts, too, flew coursing hand in hand through - primrose paths, and the angels themselves were not to be envied. - </p> - <p> - A master might picture my happiness, waking and sleeping, through the - short winter days that came and went like flashes of gray light. The - memory of them is that of a figure tall and lithe, a little more rounded - than of yore, and a chiselled face softened by a power that is one of the - world's mysteries. Dorothy had looked the lady in rags, and housewife's - cap and apron became her as well as silks or brocades. When for any reason - she was absent from my side, I moped, to the quiet amusement of Mrs. - Manners and the more boisterous delight of Aunt Lucy, who took her turn - sewing in the window. I was near to forgetting the use of words, until at - length, one rare morning when the sun poured in, the jolly doctor dressed - my wounds with more despatch than common, and vouchsafed that I might talk - awhile that day. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cries he, putting me as ever to confusion, “but I have a guess whom - my gentleman will be wishing to talk with. But I'll warrant, sir, you have - said a deal more than I have any notion of without opening your lips.” - </p> - <p> - And he went away, intolerably pleased with his joke. - </p> - <p> - Alas for the perversity of maiden natures! It was not my dear nurse who - brought my broth that morning, but Mrs. Manners herself. She smiled at my - fallen face, and took a chair at my bedside. - </p> - <p> - “Now, my dear boy,” she said, “you may ask what questions you choose, and - I will tell you very briefly how you have come here.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been thinking, Mrs. Manners,” I replied, “that if it were known - that you harboured one of John Paul Jones's officers in London, very - serious trouble might follow for you.” - </p> - <p> - I thought her brow clouded a little. - </p> - <p> - “No one knows of it, Richard, or is likely to. Dr. Barry, like so many in - England, is a good Whig and friend to America. And you are in a part of - London far removed from Mayfair.” She hesitated, and then continued in a - voice that strove to be lighter: “This little house is in Charlotte - Street, Mary-le-Bone, for the war has made all of us suffer some. And we - are more fortunate than many, for we are very comfortable here, and though - I say it, happier than in Arlington Street. And the best of our friends - are still faithful. Mr. Fox, with all his greatness, has never deserted - us, nor my Lord Comyn. Indeed, we owe them much more than I can tell you - of now,” she said, and sighed. “They are here every day of the world to - inquire for you, and it was his Lordship brought you out of Holland.” - </p> - <p> - And so I had reason once more to bless this stanch friend! - </p> - <p> - “Out of Holland?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. One morning as we sat down to breakfast, Mr. Ripley's clerk brought - in a letter for Dorothy. But I must say first that Mr. Dulany, who is in - London, told us that you were with John Paul Jones. You can have no - conception, Richard, of the fear and hatred that name has aroused in - England. Insurance rates have gone up past belief, and the King's ships - are cruising in every direction after the traitor and pirate, as they call - him. We have prayed daily for your safety, and Dorothy—well, here is - the letter she received. It had been opened by the inspector, and allowed - to pass. And it is to be kept as a curiosity.” She drew it from the pocket - of her apron and began to read. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “THE TEXEL, October 3, 1779 - - “MY DEAR Miss DOROTHY: I would not be thought to flutter y'r Gentle - Bosom with Needless Alarms, nor do I believe I have misjudged y'r - Warm & Generous Nature when I write you that One who is held very - High in y'r Esteem lies Exceeding Ill at this Place, who might by - Tender Nursing regain his Health. I seize this Opportunity to say, - my dear Lady, that I have ever held my too Brief Acquaintance with - you in London as one of the Sacred Associations of my Life. From - the Little I saw of you then I feel Sure that this Appeal will not - pass in Vain. I remain y'r most Humble and Devoted Admirer, - - “JAMES ORCHARDSON.” - </pre> - <p> - “And she knew it was from Commodore Jones?” I asked, in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “My dear,” replied Mrs. Manners, with a quiet smile, “we women have a - keener instinct than men—though I believe your commodore has a - woman's intuition. Yes, Dorothy knew. And I shall never forget the fright - she gave me as she rose from the table and handed me the sheet to read, - crying but the one word. She sent off to Brook Street for Lord Comyn, who - came at once, and, in half an hour the dear fellow was set out for Dover. - He waited for nothing, since war with Holland was looked for at any day. - And his Lordship himself will tell you about that rescue. Within the week - he had brought you to us. Your skull had been trepanned, you had this - great hole in your thigh, and your heart was beating but slowly. By Mr. - Fox's advice we sent for Dr. Barry, who is a skilled surgeon, and a - discreet man despite his manner. And you have been here for better than - three weeks, Richard, hanging between life and death.” - </p> - <p> - “And I owe my life to you and to Dorothy,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “To Lord Comyn and Dr. Barry, rather,” she replied quickly. “We have done - little but keep the life they saved. And I thank God it was given me to do - it for the son of your mother and father.” - </p> - <p> - Something of the debt I owed them was forced upon me. - </p> - <p> - They were poor, doubtless driven to make ends meet, and yet they had taken - me in, called upon near the undivided services of an able surgeon, and - worn themselves out with nursing me. Nor did I forget the risk they ran - with such a guest. For the first time in many years my heart relented - toward Mr. Marmaduke. For their sakes I forgave him over and over what I - had suffered, and my treatment of him lay like a weight upon me. And how - was I to repay them? They needed the money I had cost them, of that I was - sure. After the sums I had expended to aid the commodore with the 'Ranger' - and the 'Bon homme Richard', I had scarce a farthing to my name. With such - leaden reflections was I occupied when I heard Mrs. Manners speaking to - me. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I have some news for you which the doctor thinks you can bear - to-day. Mr. Dulany, who is exiled like the rest of us, brought them. It is - a great happiness to be able to tell you, my dear, that you are now the - master of Carvel Hall, and like to stay so.” - </p> - <p> - The tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. And the enormity of those - tidings, coming as they did on the top of my dejection, benumbed me. All - they meant was yet far away from my grasp, but the one supreme result that - was first up to me brought me near to fainting in my weakness. - </p> - <p> - “I would not raise your hopes unduly, Richard,” the good lady was saying, - “but the best informed here seem to think that England cannot push the war - much farther. If the Colonies win, you are secure in your title.” - </p> - <p> - “But how is it come about, Mrs. Manners?” I demanded, with my first - breath. - </p> - <p> - “You doubtless have heard that before the Declaration was signed at - Philadelphia your Uncle Grafton went to the committee at Annapolis and - contributed to the patriot cause, and took very promptly the oath of the - Associated Freemen of Maryland, thus forsaking the loyalist party—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” I interrupted, “I heard of it when I was on the Cabot. He - thought his property in danger.” - </p> - <p> - “Just so,” said Mrs. Manners, laughing; “he became the best and most - exemplary of patriots, even as he had been the best of Tories. He sent - wheat and money to the army, and went about bemoaning that his only son - fought under the English flag. But very little fighting has Philip done, - my dear. Well, when the big British fleet sailed up the bay in '77, your - precious uncle made the first false step in his long career of rascality. - He began to correspond with the British at Philadelphia, and one of his - letters was captured near the Head of Elk. A squad was sent to the Kent - estate, where he had been living, to arrest him, but he made his escape to - New York. And his lands were at once confiscated by the state.” - </p> - <p> - “'Then they belong to the state,” I said, with misgiving. - </p> - <p> - “Not so fast, Richard. At the last session of the Maryland Legislature a - bill was introduced, through the influence of Mr. Bordley and others, to - restore them to you, their rightful owner. And insomuch as you were even - then serving the country faithfully and bravely, and had a clean and - honourable record of service, the whole of the lands were given to you. - And now, my dear, you have had excitement enough for one day.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LIV. MORE DISCOVERIES - </h2> - <p> - All that morning I pondered over the devious lane of my life, which had - led up to so fair a garden. And one thing above all kept turning and - turning in my head, until I thought I should die of waiting for its - fulfilment. Now was I free to ask Dorothy to marry me, to promise her the - ease and comfort that had once been hers, should God bring us safe back to - Maryland. The change in her was little less than a marvel to me, when I - remembered the wilful miss who had come to London bent upon pleasure - alone. Truly, she was of that rare metal which refines, and then outshines - all others. And there was much I could not understand. A miracle had saved - her from the Duke of Chartersea, but why she had refused so many great men - and good was beyond my comprehension. Not a glimpse of her did I get that - day, though my eyes wandered little from the knob of the door. And even - from Aunt Lucy no satisfaction was to be had as to the cause of her - absence. - </p> - <p> - “'Clare to goodness, Marse Dick,” said she, with great solemnity, “'clare - to goodness, I'se nursed Miss Dolly since she was dat high, and neber one - minnit obher life is I knowed what de Chile gwine t' do de next. She ain't - neber yit done what I calcelated on.” - </p> - <p> - The next morning, after the doctor had dressed my wounds and bantered me - to his heart's content, enters Mr. Marmaduke Manners. I was prodigiously - struck by the change in him, and pitied him then near as much as I had - once despised him. He was arrayed in finery, as of old. But the finery was - some thing shabby; the lace was frayed at the edges, there was a neat but - obvious patch in his small-clothes, and two more in his coat. His air was - what distressed me most of all, being that of a man who spends his days - seeking favours and getting none. I had seen too many of the type not to - know the sign of it. - </p> - <p> - He ran forward and gave me his hand, which I grasped as heartily as my - weakness would permit. - </p> - <p> - “They would not let me see you until to-day, my dear Richard,” he - exclaimed. “I bid you welcome to what is left of our home. 'Tis not - Arlington Street, my lad.” - </p> - <p> - “But more of a home than was that grander house, Mr. Manners.” - </p> - <p> - He sighed heavily. - </p> - <p> - “Alas!” said he, “poverty is a bitter draught, and we have drunk deep of - it since last we beheld you. My great friends know me no more, and will - not take my note for a shilling. They do not remember the dinners and - suppers I gave them. Faith, this war has brought nothing but misery, and - how we are to get through it, God knows!” - </p> - <p> - Now I understood it was not the war, but Mr. Marmaduke himself, which had - carried his family to this pass. And some of my old resentment rekindled. - </p> - <p> - “I know that I have brought you great additional anxiety and expense, Mr. - Manners,” I answered somewhat testily. “The care I have been to Mrs. - Manners and Dorothy I may never repay. But it gives me pleasure to feel, - sir, that I am in a position to reimburse you, and likewise to loan you - something until your lands begin to pay again.” - </p> - <p> - “There the Carvel speaks,” he cried, “and the true son of our generous - province. You can have no conception of the misfortunes come to me out of - this quarrel. The mortgages on my Western Shore tobacco lands are - foreclosed, and Wilmot House itself is all but gone. You well know, of - course, that I would do the same by you, Richard.” - </p> - <p> - I smiled, but more in sadness than amusement. Hardship had only degraded - Mr. Marmaduke the more, and even in trouble his memory was convenient as - is that of most people in prosperity. I was of no mind to jog his - recollection. But I wanted badly to ask about his Grace. Where had my fine - nobleman been at the critical point of his friend's misfortunes? For I had - had many a wakeful night over that same query since my talk with - McAndrews. - </p> - <p> - “So you have come to your own again, Richard, my lad,” said Mr. Marmaduke, - breaking in upon my train. “I have felt for you deeply, and talked many a - night with Margaret and Dorothy over the wrong done you. Between you and - me,” he whispered, “that uncle of yours is an arrant knave, whom the - patriots have served with justice. To speak truth, sir, I begin myself to - have a little leaning to that cause which you have so bravely espoused.” - </p> - <p> - This time I was close to laughing outright. But he was far too serious to - remark my mirth. He commenced once more, with an ahem, which gave me a - better inkling than frankness of what bothered him. - </p> - <p> - “You will have an agent here, Richard, I take it,” said he. “Your - grandfather had one. Ahem! Doubtless this agent will advance you all you - shall have need of, when you are well enough to see him. Fact is, he might - come here.” - </p> - <p> - “You forget, Mr. Manners, that I am a pirate and an outlaw, and that you - are the shielder of such.” - </p> - <p> - That thought shook the pinch of Holland he held all over him. But he - recovered. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Richard, men of business are of no faction and of no nation. - Their motto is discretion. And to obtain the factorship in London of a - like estate to yours one of them would wear a plaster over his mouth, I'll - warrant you. You have but to summon one of the rascals, promise him a bit - of war interest, and he will leave you as much as you desire, and nothing - spoken.” - </p> - <p> - “To talk plainly, Mr. Manners,” I replied, “I think 'twould be the height - of folly to resort to such means. When I am better, we shall see what can - be done.” - </p> - <p> - His face plainly showed his disappointment. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure,” he said, in a whining tone, “I had forgotten your friends, - Lord Comyn and Mr. Fox. They may do something for you, now you own your - estate. My dear sir, I dislike to say aught against any man. Mrs. Manners - will tell you of their kindness to us, but I vow I have not been able to - see it. With all the money at their command they will not loan me a penny - in my pressing need. And I shame to say it, my own daughter prevents me - from obtaining the money to keep us out of the Fleet. I know she has - spoken to Dulany. Think of it, Richard, my own daughter, upon whom I - lavished all when I had it, who might have made a score of grand matches - when I gave her the opportunity, and now we had all been rolling in - wealth. I'll be sworn I don't comprehend her, nor her mother either, who - abets her. For they prefer to cook Maryland dainties for a living, to put - in the hands of the footmen of the ladies whose houses they once visited. - And how much of that money do you suppose I get, sir? Will you believe it - that I—” (he was shrieking now), “that I, the man of the family, am - allowed only my simple meals, a farthing for snuff, and not a groat for - chaise-hire? At my age I am obliged to walk to and from their lordships' - side entrances in patched clothes, egad, when a new suit might obtain us a - handsome year's income!” - </p> - <p> - I turned my face to the wall, completely overcome, and the tears scalding - in my eyes, at the thought of Dorothy and her mother bending over the - stove cooking delicacies for their livelihood, and watching at my bedside - night and day despite their weariness of body. And not a word out of these - noble women of their sacrifice, nor of the shame and trouble and labour of - their lives, who always had been used to every luxury! Nothing but cheer - had they brought to the sickroom, and not a sign of their poverty and - hardship, for they knew that their broths and biscuit and jellies must - have choked me. No. It remained for this contemptible cur of a husband and - father to open my eyes. - </p> - <p> - He had risen when I had brought myself to look at him. And as I hope for - heaven he took my emotion for pity of himself. - </p> - <p> - “I have worried you enough for one day with my troubles, my lad,” said he. - “But they are very hard to bear, and once in a while it does me good to - speak of them.” - </p> - <p> - I did not trust myself to reply. - </p> - <p> - It was Aunt Lucy who spent the morning with me, and Mrs. Manners brought - my dinner. I observed a questioning glance as she entered, which I took - for an attempt to read whether Mr. Marmaduke had spoke more than he ought. - But I would have bitten off my tongue rather than tell her of my - discoveries, though perhaps my voice may have betrayed an added concern. - She stayed to talk on the progress of the war, relating the gallant - storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony in July, and the latest Tory - insurrection on our own Eastern Shore. She passed from these matters to a - discussion of General Washington's new policy of the defensive, for Mrs. - Manners had always been at heart a patriot. And whilst I lay listening - with a deep interest, in comes my lady herself. So was it ever, when you - least expected her, even as Mammy had said. She curtseyed very prettily, - with her chin tilted back and her cheeks red, and asked me how I did. - </p> - <p> - “And where have you been these days gone, Miss Will-o'the-Wisp, since the - doctor has given me back my tongue?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - “I like you better when you are asleep,” says she. “For then you are - sometimes witty, though I doubt not the wit is other people's.” - </p> - <p> - So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night. For I - slept like a trooper after a day's forage. As to what I might have said in - my dreams—that thought made me red as an apple. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, Dorothy,” says her mother, smiling, “you would provoke a saint.” - </p> - <p> - “Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner,” replies the minx, with - a little face at me. “Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of an - audience from your Excellency.” - </p> - <p> - “A gentleman!” - </p> - <p> - “Even so. He presents a warrant from your Excellency's physician.” - </p> - <p> - With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her. And who should - come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn? He made one rush at me, - and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear's hug. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Richard,” cried he, when he had released me, “I give you my oath that - I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there. But - they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that now. - 'Tis love is curing you, my lad.” - </p> - <p> - He held me off at arm's length, the old-time affection beaming from his - handsome face. - </p> - <p> - “What am I to say to you, Jack?” I answered. And my voice was all but - gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of - the legion I owed him. “How am I to piece words enough together to thank - you for this supreme act of charity?” - </p> - <p> - “'Od's, you may thank your own devilish thick head,” said my Lord Comyn. - “I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her. Had it - not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out of - that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?” - </p> - <p> - I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail. - </p> - <p> - “And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have - done her?” I said. - </p> - <p> - He laughed, and pinched me playfully. - </p> - <p> - “Now are you coming to your senses,” said he. “There was cursed little to - the enterprise, Richard, and that's the truth. I got down to Dover, and - persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam. That was not - so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe enough in - the Texel. In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped, and set off at - the devil's pace for the Texel. You must know that the whole Dutch nation - was in an uproar—as much of an uproar as those boors ever reach—over - the arrival of your infamous squadron. The Court Party and our ambassador - were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans for making you at - home. I heard that their High Mightinesses had given Paul Jones the use of - the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners, and thither I ran. And I - was even cursing the French sentry at the drawbridge in his own tongue, - when up comes your commodore himself. You may quarter me if wasn't knocked - off my feet when I recognized the identical peacock of a sea-captain we - had pulled out of Castle Yard along with you, and offered a commission in - the Royal Navy.” - </p> - <p> - “Dolly hadn't told you?” - </p> - <p> - “Dolly tell me!” exclaimed his Lordship, scornfully. “She was in a state - to tell me nothing the morning I left, save only to bring you to England - alive, and repeat it over and over. But to return to your captain,—he, - too, was taken all aback. But presently he whipt out my name, and I his, - without the Jones. And when I told him my errand, he wept on my neck, and - said he had obtained unlimited leave of absence for you from the Paris - commissioners. He took me up into a private room in the fort, where you - were; and the surgeon, who was there at the time, said that your chances - were as slim as any man's he had ever seen. Faith, you looked it, my lad. - At sight of your face I took one big gulp, for I had no notion of getting - you back to her. And rather than come without you, and look into her eyes, - I would have drowned myself in the Straits of Dover. - </p> - <p> - “Despite the host of troubles he had on his hands, your commodore himself - came with us to Rotterdam. Now I protest I love that man, who has more - humanity in him than most of the virtuous people in England who call him - hard names. If you could have seen him leaning over you, and speaking to - you, and feeling every minute for your heart-beats, egad, you would have - cried. And when I took you off to the schooner, he gave me an hundred - directions how to care for you, and then his sorrow bowled him all in a - heap.” - </p> - <p> - “And is the commodore still at the Texel?” I asked, after a space. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that he is, with our English cruisers thick as gulls outside' waiting - for a dead fish. But he has spurned the French commission they have - offered him, saying that of the Congress is good enough for him. And he - declares openly that when he gets ready he will sail out in the Alliance - under the Stars and Stripes. And for this I honour him,” added he, “and - Charles honours him, and so must all Englishmen honour him when they come - to their senses. And by Gads life, I believe he will get clear, for he is - a marvel at seamanship.” - </p> - <p> - “I pray with all my heart that he may,” said I, fervently. - </p> - <p> - “God help him if they catch him!” my Lord exclaimed. “You should see the - bloody piratical portraits they are scattering over London.” - </p> - <p> - “Has the risk you ran getting me into England ever occurred to you, Jack?” - I asked, with some curiosity. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, not until the day after we got back, Richard,” says he, “when I - met Mr. Attorney General on the street. 'Sdeath, I turned and ran the - other way like the devil was after me. For Charles Fox vows that - conscience makes cowards of the best of us.” - </p> - <p> - “So that is some of Charles's wisdom!” I cried, and laughed until I was - forced to stop from pain. - </p> - <p> - “Come, my hearty,” says Jack, “you owe me nothing for fishing you out of - Holland—that is her debt. But I declare that you must one day pay me - for saving her for you. What! have I not always sworn that she loved you? - Did I not pull you into the coffee-room of the Star and Garter years ago, - and tell you that same?” - </p> - <p> - My face warmed, though I said nothing. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you sly dog! I'll warrant there has been many a tender talk just - where I'm sitting.” - </p> - <p> - “Not one,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “'Slife, then, what have you been doing,” he cries, “seeing her every day - and not asking her to marry you, my master of Carvel Hall?” - </p> - <p> - “Since I am permitted to use my tongue, she has not come near me, save - when I slept,” I answered ruefully. - </p> - <p> - “Nor will she, I'll be sworn,” says he, shaken with laughter. - </p> - <p> - “'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her - unawares.” - </p> - <p> - I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me. - </p> - <p> - “And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard,” he said, in another - tone, “I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how - these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined of - her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her to - take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook Street - without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself by the - sight of her devotion.” - </p> - <p> - What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it! - </p> - <p> - “When the crash came,” he continued, “'twas she took command, and 'tis - God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed to - the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only - snuff-money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another debt, - and even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she receive - aught from us, but” (he glanced at me uneasily)—“but she and Mrs. - Manners must take to cooking delicacies—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I know,” I faltered. - </p> - <p> - “What! has the puppy told you?” cried he. - </p> - <p> - I nodded. “He was in here this morning, with his woes.” - </p> - <p> - “And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend, his - Grace of Chartersea?” - </p> - <p> - “He tried to sell her again?” I cried, my breath catching. “I have feared - as much since I heard of their misfortunes.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied Comyn, “that was the first of it. 'Twas while they were - still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew. Mr. - Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside the - duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street for - the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then, Charles - having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea the whole - of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And when the - servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts him. - </p> - <p> - “'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she. - </p> - <p> - “He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When - she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke, - who was trotting after. - </p> - <p> - “'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say is - for his Grace's ear alone.' - </p> - <p> - “Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard,” my - Lord concluded, “but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For in - a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he has never - darkened the door since. And the cream of it is,” said Comyn, “that her - father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me to - sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence.” - </p> - <p> - “And stranger confidants,” I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of - Courtenay's letter, long ago. - </p> - <p> - But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The picture - in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very words she - must have used were ringing in my ears. - </p> - <p> - Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty voice - cried out: - </p> - <p> - “Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in this - house. 'Slife, I must have at him!” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Fox!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me. - </p> - <p> - “For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles,” said he. - </p> - <p> - I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye was - caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They were - frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with some - new grandeur come upon the man. - </p> - <p> - “Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?” I cried. - </p> - <p> - He smiled, with his old boyish smile. - </p> - <p> - “You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to Holland - House—do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?” - </p> - <p> - “Remember it!” I repeated, with emphasis, “I'll warrant I can give you - every bit of our talk.” - </p> - <p> - “I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most - damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so blunt - and uncompromising. But you took my fancy—God knows why!—that - first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you - when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have not - forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the grass. - Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!” he said, and sighed. - </p> - <p> - “And yet you were a Junior Lord,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Which is more than I am now,” he answered. “Somehow—you may laugh—somehow - I have never been able to shake off the influence of your words, Richard. - Your cursed earnestness scared me.” - </p> - <p> - “Scared you?” I cried, in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Just that,” said Charles. “Jack will bear witness that I have said so to - Dolly a score of times. For I had never imagined such a single character - as yours. You know we were all of us rakes at fifteen, to whom everything - good in the universe was a joke. And do you recall the teamster we met by - the Park, and how he arrested his salute when he saw who it was? At - another time I should have laughed over that, but it cut me to have it - happen when you were along.” - </p> - <p> - “And I'll lay an hundred guineas to a farthing the fellow would put his - head on the block for Charles now,” cut in his Lordship, with his hand on - Mr. Fox's shoulder. “Behold, O Prophet,” he cried, “one who is become the - champion of the People he reviled! Behold the friend of Rebellion and - 'Lese Majeste', the viper in Britannia's bosom!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, have done, Jack,” said Mr. Fox, impatiently, “you have no more music - in your soul than a cow. Damned little virtue attaches to it, Richard,” he - went on. “North threw me out, and the king would have nothing to do with - me, so I had to pick up with you rebels and traitors.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not believe him, Richard,” cried my Lord; “you have only to look - at him to see that he lies. Take note of the ragged uniform of the rebel - army he carries, and then think of him 'en petite maitre', with his - cabriolet and his chestnuts. Egad, he might be as rich as Rigby were it - not for those principles which he chooses to deride. And I have seen him - reduced to a crown for them. I tell you, Richard,” said my Lord, “by - espousing your cause Charles is become greater than the King. For he has - the hearts of the English people, which George has not, and the allegiance - of you Americans, which George will never have. And if you once heard him, - in Parliament, you should hear him now, and see the Speaker wagging his - wig like a man bewitched, and hear friends and enemies calling out for him - to go on whenever he gives the sign of a pause.” - </p> - <p> - This speech of his Lordship's may seem cold in the writing, my dears, and - you who did not know him may wonder at it. It had its birth in an - admiration few men receive, and which in Charles Fox's devoted coterie was - dangerously near to idolatry. During the recital of it Charles walked to - the window, and there stood looking out upon the gray prospect, seemingly - paying but little attention. But when Comyn had finished, he wheeled on us - with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Egad, he will be telling you next that I have renounced the devil and all - his works, Richard,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “'Oohs, that I will not,” his Lordship made haste to declare. “For they - were born in him, and will die with him.” - </p> - <p> - “And you, Jack,” I asked, “how is it that you are not in arms for the - King, and commanding one of his frigates?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, it is Charles's fault,” said my Lord, smiling. “Were it not for him - I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast towns.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LV. “THE LOVE OF A MAID FOR A MAN” - </h2> - <p> - The next morning, when Dr. Barry had gone, Mrs. Manners propped me up in - bed and left me for a little, so she said. Then who should come in with my - breakfast on a tray but my lady herself, looking so fresh and beautiful - that she startled me vastly. - </p> - <p> - “A penny for your thoughts, Richard,” she cried. “Why, you are as grave as - a screech-owl this brave morning.” - </p> - <p> - “To speak truth, Dolly,” said I, “I was wondering how the commodore is to - get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait - outside.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not worry your head about that,” said she, setting down the tray; “it - will be mere child's play to him. Oh but I should like to see your - commodore again, and tell him how much I love him. - </p> - <p> - “I pray that you may have the chance,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not - so much as looking at the knot. Then she stepped to the mantel and took - down one of Mr. Wedgwood's cups and dishes, and wiping them with her - apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her - eyes sparkling. - </p> - <p> - “Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service,” says she, - with a curtsey. - </p> - <p> - I was as a man without a tongue, my hunger gone from sheer happiness—and - fright. And yet eating the breakfast with a relish because she had made - it. She busied herself about the room, dusting here and tidying there, and - anon throwing a glance at me to see if I needed anything. My eyes followed - her hither and thither. When I had finished, she undid the napkin, and - brushed the crumbs from the coverlet. - </p> - <p> - “You are not going?” I said, with dismay. - </p> - <p> - “Did you wish anything more, sir?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Dorothy,” I cried, “it is you I want, and you will not come near me.” - </p> - <p> - For an instant she stood irresolute. Then she put down the tray and came - over beside me. - </p> - <p> - “Do you really want me, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy,” I began, “I must first tell you that I have some guess at the - sacrifice you are making for my sake, and of the trouble and danger which - I bring you.” - </p> - <p> - Without more ado she put her hand over my mouth. - </p> - <p> - “No,” she said, reddening, “you shall tell me nothing of the sort.” - </p> - <p> - I seized her hand, however it struggled, and holding it fast, continued: - </p> - <p> - “And I have learned that you have been watching with me by night, and - working by day, when you never should have worked at all. To think that - you should be reduced to that, and I not know it!” - </p> - <p> - Her eyes sought mine for a fleeting second. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you silly boy, I have made a fortune out of my cookery. And fame, - too, for now am I known from Mary-le-bone to Chelsea, while before my name - was unheard of out of little Mayfair. Indeed, I would not have missed the - experience for a lady-in-waiting-ship. I have learned a deal since I saw - you last, sir. I know that the world, like our Continental money, must not - be taken for the price that is stamped upon it. And as for the watching - with you,” said my lady, “that had to be borne with as cheerfully as might - be. Since I had sent off for you, I was in duty bound to do my share - toward your recovery. I was even going to add that this watching was a - pleasure,—our curate says the sense of duty performed is sure to be. - But you used to cry out the most terrifying things to frighten me: the - pattering of blood and the bumping of bodies on the decks, and the black - rivulets that ran and ran and ran and never stopped; and strange, rough - commands I could not understand; and the name of your commodore whom you - love so much. And often you would repeat over and over: 'I have not yet - begun, to fight, I have not yet begun to fight!'” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, 'twas that he answered when they asked him if he had struck,” I - exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “It must have been an awful scene,” she said, and her shoulders quivered. - “When you were at your worst you would talk of it, and sometimes of what - happened to you in London, of that ride in Hyde Park, or—or of - Vauxhall,” she continued hurriedly. “And when I could bear it no longer, I - would take your hand and call you by name, and often quiet you thus.” - </p> - <p> - “And did I speak of aught else?” I asked eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. When you were caliper, it would be of your childhood, of your - grandfather and your birthdays, of Captain Clapsaddle, and of Patty and - her father.” - </p> - <p> - “And never of Dolly, I suppose.” - </p> - <p> - She turned away her head. - </p> - <p> - “And never of Dolly?” - </p> - <p> - “I will tell you what you said once, Richard,” she answered, her voice - dropping very low. “I was sitting by the window there, and the dawn was - coming. And suddenly I heard you cry: 'Patty, when I return will you be my - wife?' I got up and came to your side, and you said it again, twice.” - </p> - <p> - The room was very still. And the vision of Patty in the parlour of - Gordon's Pride, knitting my woollen stocking, rose before me. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I said at length, “I asked her that the day before I left for the - war. God bless her! She has the warmest heart in the world, and the most - generous nature. Do you know what her answer was, Dorothy?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” 'Twas only her lips moving that formed the word. She was twisting - absently the tassel of the bed curtain. - </p> - <p> - “She asked me if I loved her.” - </p> - <p> - My lady glanced up with a start, then looked me searchingly through and - through. - </p> - <p> - “And you?” she said, in the same inaudible way. - </p> - <p> - “I could answer nothing. 'Twas because of her father's dying wish I asked - her, and she guessed that same. I would not tell her a lie, for only the - one woman lives whom I love, and whom I have loved ever since we were - children together among the strawberries. Need I say that that woman is - you, Dorothy? I loved you before we sailed to Carvel Hall between my - grandfather's knees, and I will love you till death claims me.” - </p> - <p> - Then it seemed as if my heart had stopped beating. But the snowy apron - upon her breast fluttered like a sail stirring in the wind, her head was - high, and her eyes were far away. Even my voice sounded in the distance as - I continued: - </p> - <p> - “Will you be the mistress of Carvel Hall, Dorothy? Hallowed is the day - that I can ask it.” - </p> - <p> - What of this earth may excel in sweetness the surrender of that proud and - noble nature! And her words, my dears, shall be sacred to you, too, who - are descended from her. She bent forward a little, those deep blue eyes - gazing full into my own with a fondness to make me tremble. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Richard,” she said, “I believe I have loved you always. If I have - been wilful and wicked, I have suffered more than you know—even as I - have made you suffer.” - </p> - <p> - “And now our suffering is over, Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't say that, my dear!” she cried, “but let us rather make a prayer - to God.” - </p> - <p> - Down she got on her knees close beside me, and I took both of her hands - between my own. But presently I sought for a riband that was around my - neck, and drew out a locket. Within it were pressed those lilies of the - valley I had picked for her long years gone by on my birthday. And she - smiled, though the tears shone like dewdrops on her lashes. - </p> - <p> - “When Jack brought you to us for dead, we did not take it off, dear,” she - said gently. “I wept with sorrow and joy at sight of it, for I remembered - you as you were when you picked those flowers, and how lightly I had - thought of leaving you as I wound them into my hair. And then, when I had - gone aboard the 'Annapolis', I knew all at once that I would have given - anything to stay, and I thought my heart would break when we left the - Severn cliffs behind. But that, sir, has been a secret until this day,” - she added, smiling archly through her tears. - </p> - <p> - She took out one of the withered flowers, and then as caressingly put it - back beside the others, and closed the locket. - </p> - <p> - “I forbade Dr. Barry to take it off, Richard, when you lay so white and - still. I knew then that you had been true to me, despite what I had heard. - And if you were to die—” her voice broke a little as she passed her - hand over my brow, “if you were to die, my single comfort would have been - that you wore it then.” - </p> - <p> - “And you heard rumours of me, Dorothy?” - </p> - <p> - “George Worthington and others told me how ably you managed Mr. Swain's - affairs, and that you had become of some weight with the thinking men of - the province. Richard, I was proud to think that you had the courage to - laugh at disaster and to become a factor. I believe,” she said shyly, - “twas that put the cooking into my head, and gave me courage. And when I - heard that Patty was to marry you, Heaven is my witness that I tried to be - reconciled and think it for the best. Through my own fault I had lost you, - and I knew well she would make you a better wife than I.” - </p> - <p> - “And you would not even let Jack speak for me!” - </p> - <p> - “Dear Jack!” she cried; “were it not for Jack we should not be here, - Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, Dolly, two people could scarce fall deeper in debt to another - than are you and I to my Lord Viscount,” I answered, with feeling. “His - honesty and loyalty to us both saved you for me at the very outset.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she replied thoughtfully, “I believed you dead. And I should have - married him, I think. For Dr. Courtenay had sent me that piece from the - Gazette telling of the duel between you over Patty Swain—” - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Courtenay sent you that!” I interrupted. - </p> - <p> - “I was a wild young creature then, my dear, with little beside vanity - under my cap. And the notion that you could admire and love any girl but - me was beyond endurance. Then his Lordship arrived in England, brimming - with praise of you, to assure me that the affair was not about Patty at - all. This was far from making me satisfied that you were not in love with - her, and I may say now that I was miserable. Then, as we were setting out - for Castle Howard, came the news of your death on the road to Upper - Marlboro. I could not go a step. Poor Jack, he was very honest when he - proposed,” she added, with a sigh. - </p> - <p> - “He loved you, Dorothy.” - </p> - <p> - She did not hear me, so deep was she in thought. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas he who gave me news of you, when I was starving at Gordon's.” - </p> - <p> - “And I—I starved, too, Richard,” she answered softly. “Dearest, I - slid very wrong. There are some matters that must be spoken of between us, - whatever the pain they give. And my heart aches now when I think of that - dark day in Arlington Street when I gave you the locket, and you went out - of my life. I knew that I had done wrong then, Richard, as soon as ever - the door closed behind you. I should have gone with you, for better for - worse, for richer for poorer. I should have run after you in the rain and - thrown myself at your feet. And that would have been best for my father - and for me.” - </p> - <p> - She covered her face with her hands, and her words were stifled by a sob. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, Dorothy!” I cried, drawing her to me. “Another time. Not now, - when we are so happy.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, and never again, dear,” she said. “Yes, I saw and heard all that - passed in the drawing-room. And I did not blame, but praised you for it. I - have never spoken a word beyond necessity to my father since. God forgive - me!” she cried, “but I have despised him from that hour. When I knew that - he had plotted to sell me to that detestable brute, working upon me to - save his honour, of which he has not the smallest spark; that he had - recognized and denied you, friendless before our house, and sent you into - the darkness at Vauxhall to be murdered, then he was no father of mine. I - would that you might know what my mother has suffered from such a man, - Richard.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, I have often pitied her from my soul,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “And now I shall tell you something of the story of the Duke of - Chartersea,” she went on, and I felt her tremble as she spoke that name. - “I think of all we have Lord Comyn to thank for, next to saving your life - twice, was his telling you of the danger I ran. And, Richard, after - refusing you that day on the balcony over the Park, I had no hope left. - You may thank your own nobility and courage that you remained in London - after that. Richard,” she said, “do you recall my asking you in the coach, - on the way from Castle Yard, for the exact day you met my father in - Arlington Street?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I replied, in some excitement, “yes.” For I was at last to come at - the bottom of this affair. - </p> - <p> - “The duke had made a formal offer for me when first we came to London. I - think my father wrote of that to Dr. Courtenay.” (I smiled at the - recollection, now.) “Then his Grace persisted in following me everywhere, - and vowed publicly that he would marry me. I ordered him from our house, - since my father would not. At last one afternoon he came back to dine with - us, insolent to excess. I left the table. He sat with my father two hours - or more, drinking and singing, and giving orders to the servants. I shut - my door, that I might not hear. After a while my mother came up to me, - crying, saying that Mr. Manners would be branded with dishonour and I did - not consent to marry his Grace,—a most terrible dishonour, of which - she could not speak. That the duke had given my father a month to win my - consent. And that month was up, Richard, the very afternoon you appeared - with Mr. Dix in Arlington Street.” - </p> - <p> - “And you agreed to marry him, Dolly?” I asked breathlessly. - </p> - <p> - “By the grace of Heaven, I did not,” she answered quickly. “The utmost - that I would consent to was a two months' respite, promising to give my - hand to no one in that interval. And so I was forced to refuse you, - Richard. You must have seen even then that I loved you, dear, though I was - so cruel when you spoke of saving me from his Grace. I could not bear to - think that you knew of any stain upon our family. I think—I think I - would rather have died, or have married him. That day I threw Chartersea's - presents out of the window, but my father made the servants gather them - all which escaped breaking, and put them in the drawing-room. Then I fell - ill.” - </p> - <p> - She was silent, I clinging to her, and shuddering to think how near I had - been to losing her. - </p> - <p> - “It was Jack who came to cheer me,” I said presently. - </p> - <p> - “His faith in you was never shaken, sweetheart. But I went to Newmarket - and Ampthill, and behaved like the ingrate I was. I richly deserved the - scolding he had for me when I got back to town, which sent me running to - Arlington Street. There I met Dr. James coming out, who asked me if I was - Mr. Carvel, and told me that you had called my name.” - </p> - <p> - “And, you goose, you never suspected,” says she, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “How was I to suspect that you loved a provincial booby like me, when you - had the choice of so many accomplished gentlemen with titles and estates?” - </p> - <p> - “How were you to perceive, indeed, that you had qualities which they - lacked?” - </p> - <p> - “And you were forever vowing that you would marry a nobleman, my lady. For - you said to me once that I should call you so, and ride in the coach with - the coroneted panels when I came home on a visit.” - </p> - <p> - “And I said, too,” retorted Dolly, with mischief in her eyes, “do you - remember what I told you the New Year's eve when we sat out by the sundial - at Carvel Hall, when I was so proud of having fixed Dr. Courtenay's - attentions? I said that I should never marry you, sir, who was so rough - and masterful, and thrashed every lad that did not agree with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Alas, so you did, and a deal more!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - With that she broke away from me and, getting to her feet, made me a low - curtsey with the grace that was hers alone. - </p> - <p> - “You are my Lord and my King, sir,” she said, “and my rough Patriot - squire, all in one.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you happy, Dolly?” I asked, tremulous from my own joy. - </p> - <p> - “I have never been happy in all my life before, Richard dear,” she said. - </p> - <p> - In truth, she was a being transformed, and more wondrous fair than ever. - And even then I pictured her in the brave gowns and jewels I would buy her - when times were mended, when our dear country would be free. All at once, - ere I could draw a breath, she had stooped and kissed me ever so lightly - on the forehead. - </p> - <p> - The door opened upon Aunt Lucy. She had but to look at us, and her black - face beamed at our blushes. My lady threw her arms about her neck, and hid - her face in the ample bosom. - </p> - <p> - “Now praise de good Lawd!” cried Mammy; “I knowed it dis longest time. - What's I done tole you, Miss Dolly? What's I done tole you, honey?” - </p> - <p> - But my lady flew from the room. Presently I heard the spinet playing - softly, and the words of that air came out of my heart from long ago. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song. - Love that is too hot and strong - Burneth soon to waste. - Still, I would not have thee cold, - Nor too backward, nor too bold. - Love that lasteth till 'tis old - Fadeth not in haste.” - </pre> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LVI. HOW GOOD CAME OUT OF EVIL - </h2> - <p> - 'Twas about candlelight when I awoke, and Dorothy was sitting alone beside - me. Her fingers were resting upon my arm, and she greeted me with a smile - all tenderness. - </p> - <p> - “And does my Lord feel better after—after his excitement to-day?” - she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Dorothy, you have made me a whole man again. I could walk to Windsor and - back.” - </p> - <p> - “You must have your dinner, or your supper first, sir,” she answered - gayly, “and do you rest quiet until I come back to feed you. Oh, Richard - dear,” she cried, “how delightful that you should be the helpless one, and - dependent on me!” - </p> - <p> - As I lay listening for the rustle of her gown, the minutes dragged - eternally. Every word and gesture of the morning passed before my mind, - and the touch of her lips still burned on my forehead. At last, when I was - getting fairly restless, the distant tones of a voice, deep and - reverberating, smote upon my ear, jarring painfully some long-forgotten - chord. That voice belonged to but one man alive, and yet I could not name - him. Even as I strained, the tones drew nearer, and they were mixed with - sweeter ones I knew well, and Dorothy's mother's voice. Whilst I was still - searching, the door opened, the voices fell calm, and Dorothy came in - bearing a candle in each hand. As she set them down on the table, I saw an - agitation in her face, which she strove to hide as she addressed me. - </p> - <p> - “Will you see a visitor, Richard?” - </p> - <p> - “A visitor!” I repeated, with misgiving. 'Twas not so she had announced - Comyn. - </p> - <p> - “Will you see Mr. Allen?”— - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Allen, who was the rector of St. Anne's? Mr. Allen in London, and - here?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” Her breath seemed to catch at the word. “He says he must see you, - dear, and will not be denied. How he discovered you were with us I know - not.” - </p> - <p> - “See him!” I cried. “And I had but the half of my strength I would fling - him downstairs, and into the kennel. Will you tell him so for me, - Dorothy?” - </p> - <p> - And I raised up in bed, shaken with anger against the man. In a trice she - was holding me, fearfully. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, Richard, you will open your wound. I pray you be quiet.” - </p> - <p> - “And Mr. Allen has the impudence to ask to see me!” - </p> - <p> - “Listen, Richard. Your anger makes you forget many things. Remember that - he is a dangerous man, and now that he knows you are in London he holds - your liberty, perhaps your life, in his hands.” - </p> - <p> - It was true. And not mine alone, but the lives and liberty of others. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know what he wishes, Dorothy?” - </p> - <p> - “No, he will not tell us. But he is greatly excited, and says he must see - you at once, for your own good. For your own good, Richard!” - </p> - <p> - “I do not trust the villain, but he may come in,” I said, at length. - </p> - <p> - She gave me the one lingering, anxious look, and opened the door. - </p> - <p> - Never had I beheld such a change in mortal man as there was in Mr. Allen, - my old tutor, and rector of St. Anne's. And 'twas a baffling, intangible - change. 'Twas as if the mask bad been torn from his face, for he was now - just a plain adventurer that need not have imposed upon a soul. The coarse - wine and coarse food of the lower coffee-houses of London had replaced the - rich and abundant fare of Maryland. The next day was become one of the - terrors of his life. His clothes were of poor stuff, but aimed at the - fashion. And yet—and yet, as I looked upon him, a something was in - his face to puzzle me entirely. I had seen many stamps of men, but this - thing I could not recognize. - </p> - <p> - He stepped forward with all of his old confidence, and did not regard a - farthing my cold stare. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis like gone days to see you again, Richard,” he cried. “And I perceive - you have as ever fallen into the best of hands.” - </p> - <p> - “I am Mr. Carvel to my enemies, if they must speak to me at all,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear fellow, I am not your enemy, or I should not be here this - day. And presently I shall prove that same.” He took snuff. “But first I - must congratulate you on coming alive out of that great battle off - Flamborough. You look as though you had been very near to death, my lad. A - deal nearer than I should care to get.” - </p> - <p> - What to say to the man! What to do save to knock him down, and I could not - do that. - </p> - <p> - “There can be no passing the time of day between you and me, Mr. Allen,” I - answered hotly. “You, whose machinations have come as near to ruining me - as a man's can.” - </p> - <p> - “And that was your own fault, my dear sir,” said he, as he brushed - himself. “You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very dear - to men in my position.” - </p> - <p> - My head swam. Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with - something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes. With a - “by your leave, ma'am,” to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me. - </p> - <p> - “You have but to call me when you wish, Richard,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not - hear,” I said instantly. “And you will do me a favour to remain.” - </p> - <p> - She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised - his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he - kept his mouth shut. - </p> - <p> - “And now, Mr. Allen,” I said, “to what do I owe the pain of this visit?” - </p> - <p> - “The pain!” he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit of - laughter. “By the mass! your politeness drowns me. But I like you, - Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal - straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else. For - I have seen a deal of rogues in my day.” - </p> - <p> - “And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen.” - </p> - <p> - “So they have,” he cried, and laughed the more. “Egad, Miss Dorothy, you - have saved all of him, I think.” Then he swung round upon me, very - careless. “Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, - Richard?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her - chair. - </p> - <p> - “Grafton Carvel in London?” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, - I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, - and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army. - They arrived, before yesterday, from New York.” - </p> - <p> - “And to what is this an introduction?” I demanded. - </p> - <p> - “I merely thought it strange,” said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, “that he had - not called to inquire after his nephew's health.” - </p> - <p> - Dolly was staring at him, with eyes wide open. - </p> - <p> - “And pray, how did he discover I was in London, sir?” I said. “I was about - to ask how you knew of it, but that is one and the same thing.” - </p> - <p> - He shot at me a look not to be solved. - </p> - <p> - “It is not well to bite the hand that lifts you out of the fire, Richard,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - “You had not gained admission to this house were I not on my back, Mr. - Allen.” - </p> - <p> - “And that same circumstance is a blessing for you,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - 'Twas then I saw Dorothy making me mute signals of appeal. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot think why you are here, Mr. Allen,” I said. “When you consider - all the harm you have done me, and all the double-dealing I may lay at - your door, can you blame me for my feelings?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he answered, with more soberness than he had yet used; “I honour you - for them. And perchance I am here to atone for some of that harm. For I - like you, my lad, and that's God's truth.” - </p> - <p> - “All this is neither here nor there, Mr. Allen,” I exclaimed, wholly out - of patience. “If you have come with a message, let me have it. If not, I - beg you get out of my sight, for I have neither the will nor the desire - for palavering.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Richard, do keep your temper!” implored Dorothy. “Can you not see - that Mr. Allen desires to do us—to do you—a service?” - </p> - <p> - “Of that I am not so sure,” I replied. - </p> - <p> - “It is his way, Miss Manners,” said the rector, “and I hold it not against - him. To speak truth, I looked for a worse reception, and came steeled to - withstand it. And had my skin been thin, I had left ere now.” He took more - snuff. “It was Mr. Dix,” he said to me slowly, “who informed Mr. Carvel of - your presence in London.” - </p> - <p> - “And how the devil did Mr. Dix know?” - </p> - <p> - He did not reply, but glanced apprehensively at Dorothy. - </p> - <p> - And I have wondered since at his consideration. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Manners may not wish to hear,” he said uneasily. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Manners hears all that concerns me,” I answered. - </p> - <p> - He shrugged his shoulders in comprehension. - </p> - <p> - “It was Mr. Manners, then, who went to Mr. Dix, and told him under the - pledge of secrecy.” - </p> - <p> - Not a sound came from Dorothy, nor did I dare to look at her face. The - whole matter was clear to me now. After his conversation with me, Mr. - Marmaduke had lost no time in seeing Mr. Dix, in order to raise money on - my prospects. And the man of business had gone straight to Grafton with - the intelligence. The suspicion flashed through me that Mr. Allen had been - sent to spy, but his very next words disarmed it. - </p> - <p> - “And now, Richard,” he continued, “before I say what I have come to say, - and since you cannot now prosecute me, I mean to confess to you something - which you probably know almost to a certainty. I was in the plot to carry - you off and deprive you of your fortune. I have been paid for it, though - not very handsomely. Fears for my own safety alone kept me from telling - you and Mr. Swain. And I swear to you that I was sorry for the venture - almost before I had embarked, and ere I had received a shilling. The - scheme was laid out before I took you for a pupil; indeed, that was part - of it, as you no doubt have guessed. As God hears me, I learned to love - you, Richard, in those days at the rectory. You were all of a man, and - such an one as I might have hoped to be had I been born like you. You said - what you chose, and spoke from your own convictions, and catered to no - one. You did not whine when the luck went against you, but lost like a - gentleman, and thought no more of it. You had no fear of the devil - himself. Why should you? While your cousin Philip, with his parrot talk - and sneaking ways, turned my stomach. I was sick of him, and sick of - Grafton, I tell you. But dread of your uncle drove me on, and I had debts - to frighten me.” - </p> - <p> - He paused. “Twas with a strange medley of emotions I looked at him. And - Dorothy, too, was leaning forward, her lips parted and her eyes riveted - upon his face. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I am speaking the truth,” he said bitterly. “And I assume no virtue - for the little justice it remains in my power to do. It is the lot of my - life that I must be false to some one always, and even now I am false to - your uncle. Yes, I am come to do justice, and 'tis a strange errand for - me. I know that estates have been restored to you by the Maryland - Legislature, Richard, and I believe in my heart that you will win this - war.” Here he fetched a memorandum from his pocket. “But to make you - secure,” said he, “in the year 1710, and on the 9th of March, old style, - your great-grandfather, Mr. George Carvel, drew up a document entailing - the lands of Carvel Hall. By this they legally pass to you.” - </p> - <p> - “The family settlement Mr. Swain suspected!” I exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Just so,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “And what am I to pay for this information?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - Hardly were the words spoken, when Dorothy ran to my bedside, and seizing - my hand, faced him. - </p> - <p> - “He—he is not well, Mr. Allen,” she cried. - </p> - <p> - The rector had risen, and stood gazing down at us with the whole of his - life written on his face. That look was fearful to see, and all of hell - was expressed therein. For what is hell if it is not hope dead and buried, - and galling regret for what might have been? With mine own great happiness - so contrasted against his torture, my heart melted. - </p> - <p> - “I am not well, indeed, Mr. Allen,” I said. “God knows how hard it is for - me to forgive, but I forgive you this night.” - </p> - <p> - One brief instant he stared at me, and then tumbled suddenly down into his - chair, his head falling forward on his arms. And the long sobs by which - his frame was shaken awed our very souls. Dorothy drew back against me, - clasping my shoulder, the tears wet upon her cheeks. What we looked on, - there in the candlelight, was the Revelation itself. - </p> - <p> - How long it, endured none of us might say. And when at last he raised his - face, it was haggard and worn in truth, but the evil of it seemed to have - fled. Again and again he strove to speak. The words would not obey. And - when he had mastered himself, his voice was shattered and gone. - </p> - <p> - “Richard, I have sinned heavily in my time, and preached God's holy word - with a sneer and unbelief in my heart. He knows what I have suffered, and - what I shall yet suffer before His judgment comes for us all. But I beg it - is no sin to pray to Him for your happiness and Miss Dorothy's.” - </p> - <p> - He stumbled there, and paused, and then continued with more steadiness: - </p> - <p> - “I came here to-night to betray you, and might have gone hence to your - uncle to claim my pieces of silver. I remain to tell you that Grafton has - an appointment at nine with his Majesty's chief Secretary of State. I need - not mention his motives, nor dwell upon your peril. For the King's - sentiments toward Paul Jones are well known. You must leave London without - delay, and so must Mr. Manners and his family.” - </p> - <p> - Is it the generations which decide? When I remember bow Dorothy behaved - that night, I think so. Scarce had the rector ceased when she had released - me and was standing erect before him. Pity was in her eyes, but in her - face that courage which danger itself begets in heroic women. - </p> - <p> - “You have acted a noble part this day, Mr. Allen,” she said, “to atone for - the wrongs you have done Richard. May God forgive you, and make you - happier than you have been!” - </p> - <p> - He struggled to his feet, listening as to a benediction. Then, with a - single glance to give me confidence, she was gone. And for a minute there - was silence between us. - </p> - <p> - “How may you be directed to?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - He leaped as out of a trance. - </p> - <p> - “Just 'the world,' Richard,” said he. “For I am adrift again, and not very - like to find a harbour, now.” - </p> - <p> - “You were to have been paid for this, Mr. Allen,” I replied. “And a man - must live.” - </p> - <p> - “A man must live!” he cried. “The devil coined that line, and made it some - men's history.” - </p> - <p> - “I have you on my conscience, Mr. Allen,” I went on, “for I have been at - fault as well as you. I might have treated you better, even as you have - said. And I command you to assign a place in London whence you may be - reached.” - </p> - <p> - “A letter to the Mitre coffee-house will be delivered,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “You shall receive it,” I answered. “And now I bid you good-by, and thank - you.” - </p> - <p> - He seized and held my hand. Then walked blindly to the door and turned - abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “I do not tell you that I shall change my life, Richard, for I have said - that too many times before. Indeed, I warn you that any money you may send - will be spent in drink, and—and worse. I will be no hypocrite to - you. But I believe that I am better this hour than I have been since last - I knelt at my mother's knee in the little Oxfordshire cottage where I was - born.” - </p> - <p> - When Dorothy returned to me, there was neither haste in her step nor - excitement in her voice. Her very coolness inspired me. - </p> - <p> - “Do you feel strong enough for a journey, Richard?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “To the world's end, Dolly, if you will but go with me.” - </p> - <p> - She smiled faintly. “I have sent off for my Lord and Mr. Fox, and pray - that one of them may be here presently.” - </p> - <p> - Scarcely greater were the visible signs of apprehension upon Mrs. Manners. - Her first care, and Dorothy's, was to catechise me most particularly on my - state. And whilst they were so occupied Mr. Marmaduke entered, wholly - frenzied from fright, and utterly oblivious to his own blame in the - matter. He was sent out again directly. After that, with Aunt Lucy to - assist, they hurriedly packed what few things might be taken. The costly - relics of Arlington Street were untouched, and the French clock was left - on the mantel to tick all the night, and for days to come, in a silent and - forsaken room; or perhaps to greet impassively the King's officers when - they broke in at the door. But I caught my lady in the act of wrapping up - the Wedgwood cups and dishes. - </p> - <p> - In the midst of these preparations Mr. Fox was heard without, and was met - at the door by Dorothy. Two sentences sufficed her to tell him what had - occurred, and two seconds for this man of action to make his decision. - </p> - <p> - “In an hour you shall have travelling chaises here, Dorothy,” he said. - “You must go to Portsmouth, and take ship for Lisbon. And if Jack does not - arrive, I will go with you.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Charles, you must not!” she cried, her emotion conquering her for the - nonce. “That might be to ruin your career, and perchance to lose your - life. And suppose we were to escape, what would they say of you!” - </p> - <p> - “Fish!” Charles retorted, to hide some feelings of his own; “once our - rebel is out of the country, they may speak their minds. They have never - lacked for names to call me, and I have been dubbed a traitor before now, - my dear lady.” - </p> - <p> - He stepped hastily to the bed, and laid his hand on me with affection. - </p> - <p> - “Charles,” I said, “this is all of a piece with your old recklessness. You - were ever one to take any risk, but I will not hear of such a venture as - this. Do you think I will allow the hope of all England to be staked for a - pirate? And would you break our commander of her rank? All that Dorothy - need do at Portsmouth is to curtsey to the first skipper she meets, and - I'll warrant he will carry us all to the antipodes.” - </p> - <p> - “Egad, but that is more practical than it sounds,” he replied, with a - glance of admiration at my lady, as she stood so tall before us. “She has - a cool head, Richard Carvel, and a long head, and—and I'm thinking - you are to come out of this the best of all of us. You cannot get far off - your course, my lad, with her at the helm.” - </p> - <p> - It was there his voice belied the jest in his words, and he left us with - precipitation. - </p> - <p> - They lifted me out of my sheets (I was appalled to discover my weakness), - and bundled me with tender care in a dozen shawls and blankets. My feet - were thrust into two pairs of heavy woollen stockings, and Dorothy bound - her own silk kerchief at my throat, whispering anxious questions the - while. And when her mother and mammy went from the room, her arms flew - around my neck in a passion of solicitude. Then she ran away to dress for - the journey, and in a surprising short time was back again, with her muff - and her heavy cloak, and bending over me to see if I gave any signs of - failure. - </p> - <p> - Fifty and five minutes had been registered by the French clock, when the - rattle of wheels and the clatter of hoofs sounded below, and Charles Fox - panted up the stairs, muffled in a huge wrap-rascal. 'Twas he and Aunt - Lucy carried me down to the street, Dorothy walking at my side, and - propped me up in the padded corner of one of the two vehicles in waiting. - This was an ample travelling-carriage with a lamp hanging from its top, by - the light of which my lady tucked me in from head to foot, and then took - her place next me. Aunt Lucy filled most of the seat opposite. The baggage - was hoisted up behind, and Charles was about to slam the door, when a - hackney-chaise turned the corner at a gallop and pulled up in the narrow - street abreast, and the figure of my Lord Comyn suddenly leaped within the - compass of the lanthorn's rays. He was dressed as for a ball, with only a - thin rain-cloak over his shoulders, for the night was thick with mist. He - threw at us a startled look that was a question. - </p> - <p> - “Jack, Richard is to be betrayed to-night by his uncle,” said Charles, - shortly. “And I am taking them to Portsmouth to get them off for Lisbon.” - </p> - <p> - “Charles,” said his Lordship, sternly, “give me that greatcoat.” - </p> - <p> - It was just the one time that ever I saw uncertainty on Mr. Fox's face. He - threw an uneasy glance into the chaise. - </p> - <p> - “I have brought money,” his Lordship went on rapidly; “'Twas that kept me, - for I guessed at something of this kind. Give me the coat, I say.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fox wriggled out of it, and took the oiled cape in return. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Jack,” he said simply, and stepped into the carriage. “Who is - to mend my waistcoats now?” he cried. “Faith, I shall treasure this - against you, Richard. Good-by, my lad, and obey your rebel general. Alas! - I must even ask your permission to salute her.” - </p> - <p> - And he kissed the unresisting Dorothy on both her cheeks. “God keep the - two of you,” he said, “for I love you with all my heart.” - </p> - <p> - Before we could answer he was gone into the night; and my Lord, standing - without, had closed the carriage door. And that was the last I saw of this - noble man, the true friend of America, who devoted his glorious talents - and his life to fighting the corruption that was rotting the greatness of - England. He who was followed by the prayers of the English race was ever - remembered in our own humble ones. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER LVII. I COME TO MY OWN AGAIN - </h2> - <p> - 'Twas a rough, wild journey we made to Portsmouth, my dears, and I think - it must have killed me had not my lady been at my side. We were no sooner - started than she pulled the curtains and opened her portmanteau, which I - saw was near filled with things for my aid and comfort. And I was made to - take a spoonful of something. Never, I believe, was medicine swallowed - with a greater willingness. Talk was impossible, so I lay back in the - corner and looked at her; and now and anon she would glance at my face, - with a troubled guess in her own as to how I might stand the night. For we - were still in London. That I knew by the trot of our horses, and by the - granite we traversed from time to time. But at length we rumbled over a - bridge, there was a sharp call back from our post-boy to him of the chaise - behind, and then began that rocking and pitching and swaying and creaking, - which was to last the whole night long, save for the brief stops at the - post-houses. - </p> - <p> - After an hour of it, I was holding my breath against the lurches, like a - sea-sick man against that bottomless fall of the ship's bows on the ocean. - I had no pain,—only an over whelming exhaustion,—but the joy - of her touch and her presence kept me from failing. And though Aunt Lucy - dozed, not a wink of sleep did my lady get through all of those weary - twelve hours. Always alert was she, solicitous beyond belief, scanning - ever the dial of her watch to know when to give me brandy and physic; or - reaching across to feel my temples for the fever. The womanliness of that - last motion was a thing for a man to wonder at. But most marvellous of all - was the instinct which told her of my chief sickening discomfort,—of - the leathery, travelled smell of the carriage. As a relief for this she - charged her pocket-napkin with a most delicate perfume, and held it to my - face. - </p> - <p> - When we drew up to shift horses, Jack would come to the door to inquire if - there was aught she wanted, and to know how I was bearing up. And often - Mrs. Manners likewise. At first I was for talking with them, but this - Dorothy would not allow. Presently, indeed, it was beyond my power, and I - could only smile feebly at my Lord when I heard Dolly asking him that the - hostlers might be more quiet. Toward morning a lethargy fell upon me. Once - I awoke when the lamp had burned low, to perceive the curtains drawn back, - a black blotch of trees without, and the moonlight streaming in on my - lady's features. With the crack of a whip I was off again. - </p> - <p> - When next consciousness came, the tarry, salt smell of a ship was in my - nostrils, and I knew that we were embarked. I lay in a clean bunk in a - fair-sized and sun-washed cabin, and I heard the scraping of ropes and the - tramp of feet on the deck above my head. Framed against the irregular - glass of the cabin window, which was greened by the water beyond, Dorothy - and my Lord stood talking in whispers. - </p> - <p> - “Jack!” I said. - </p> - <p> - At the sound they turned and ran toward me, asking how I felt. - </p> - <p> - “I feel that words are very empty, Jack, to express such a gratitude as - mine,” I answered. “Twice you have saved me from death, you have paid my - debts, and have been stanch to us both in our troubles. And—” The - effort was beyond me, and I glanced appealingly at Dolly. - </p> - <p> - “And it is to you, dear Jack,” she finished, “it is to you alone that we - owe the great joy of our lives.” - </p> - <p> - Her eyes were shining through her tears, and her smile was like the sun - out of a rain-swept sky. His Lordship took one of her hands in his own, - and one of mine. He scanned our faces in a long, lingering look. - </p> - <p> - “You will cherish her, Richard,” he said brokenly, “for her like is not to - be found in this world. I knew her worth when first she came to London, as - arrant a baggage as ever led man a dance. I saw then that a great love - alone was needed to make her the highest among women, and from the night I - fought with you at the Coffee House I have felt upon whom that love would - fall. O thou of little faith,” he cried, “what little I may have done has - been for her. No, Richard, you do not deserve her, but I would rather - think of her as your wife than that of any man living.” - </p> - <p> - I shall not dwell upon that painful farewell which wrung our hearts, and - made us silent for a long, long while after the ship was tossing in the - short seas of the Channel. - </p> - <p> - Nor is it my purpose to tell you of that long voyage across the Atlantic. - We reached Lisbon in safety, and after a week of lodgings in that city by - the best of fortune got passage in a swift bark bound for Baltimore. For - the Chesapeake commerce continued throughout the war, and kept alive the - credit of the young nation. There were many excitements ere we sighted the - sand-spits of Virginia, and off the Azores we were chased for a day and a - night by a British sloop of war. Our captain, however, was a cool man and - a seaman, and slipped through the cruisers lying in wait off the Capes - very triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - But the remembrance of those fair days at sea fills my soul with longing. - The weather was mild and bright for the season, and morning upon morning - two stout topmen would carry me out to a sheltered spot on the deck, - always chosen by my lady herself. There I sat by the hour, swathed in many - layers of wool, and tended by her hands alone. Every nook and cranny of - our lives were revealed to the other. She loved to hear of Patty and my - years at Gordon's, and would listen with bated breath to the stories of - the Ranger and the Bonhomme Richard, and of that strange man whom we both - loved, whose genius had made those cruises famous. Sometimes, in low - voices, we talked of our future; but often, when the wind blew and the - deck rocked and the sun flashed upon the waters, a silence would fall - between us that needed no word to interpret. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Manners yielded to my wish for us all to go to Carvel Hall. It was on - a sparkling morning in February that we sighted the familiar toe of Kent - Island, and the good-natured skipper put about and made for the mouth of - our river. Then, as of old, the white cupola of Carvel House gleamed a - signal of greeting, to which our full hearts beat a silent response. Once - again the great windmill waved its welcome, and the same memory was upon - us both as we gazed. Of a hale old gentleman in the sheets of a sailing - pinnace, of a boy and a girl on his knees quivering with excitement of the - days to come. Dorothy gently pressed my hand as the bark came into the - wind, and the boat was dropped into the green water. Slowly they lowered - me into it, for I was still helpless, Dorothy and her mother and Aunt Lucy - were got down, and finally Mr. Marmaduke stepped gingerly from the - sea-ladder over the gunwale. The cutter leaped under the strong strokes up - the river with the tide. Then, as we rounded the bend, we were suddenly - astonished to see people gathered on the landing at the foot of the lawn, - where they had run, no doubt, in a flurry at sight of the ship below. In - the front of the group stood out a strangely familiar figure. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” exclaimed Dolly, “it is Ivie Rawlinson!” - </p> - <p> - Ivie it was, sure enough. And presently, when we drew a little closer, he - gave one big shout and whipped off the hat from his head; and off, too, - came the caps from the white heads of Scipio and Chess and Johnson behind - him. Our oars were tossed, Ivie caught our bows, and reached his hand to - Dorothy. It was fitting that she should be the first to land at Carvel - Hall. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas yere bonny face I seed first, Miss Dolly,” he cried, the tears - coursing down the scars of his cheeks. “An' syne I kennt weel the young - master was here. Noo God be praised for this blythe day, that Mr. - Richard's cam to his ain at last!” - </p> - <p> - But Scipio and Chess could only blubber as they helped him to lift me out, - Dolly begging them to be careful. As they carried me up the familiar path - to the pillared porch, the first I asked Ivie was of Patty, and next why - he had left Gordon's. She was safe and well, despite the Tories, and - herself had sent him to take charge of Carvel Hall as soon as ever Judge - Bordley had brought her the news of its restoration to me. He had supplied - her with another overseer. Thanks to the good judge and to Colonel Lloyd, - who had looked to my interests since Grafton was fled, Ivie had found the - old place in good order, all the negroes quiet, and impatient with joy - against my arrival. - </p> - <p> - It is time, my children, to bring this story to a close. I would I might - write of those delicious spring days I spent with Dorothy at Carvel Hall, - waited on by the old servants of my grandfather. At our whim my chair - would be moved from one to another of the childhood haunts; on cool days - we sat in the sun by the dial, where the flowers mingled their odours with - the salt breezes off the Chesapeake; or anon, when it was warmer, in the - summer-house my mother loved, or under the shade of the great trees on the - lawn, looking out over the river. And once my lady went off very - mysteriously, her eyes brimful of mischief, to come back with the first - strawberries of the year staining her apron. - </p> - <p> - We were married on the fifteenth of June, already an anniversary for us - both, in the long drawing-room. General Clapsaddle was there from the army - to take Dorothy in his arms, even as he had embraced another bride on the - same spot in years gone by. She wore the wedding gown that was her - mother's, but when the hour was come to dress her Aunt Lucy and Aunt - Hester failed in their task, and it was Patty who performed the most of - that office, and hung the necklace of pearls about her neck. - </p> - <p> - Dear Patty! She hath often been with us since. You have heard your mothers - and fathers speak of Aunt Patty, my dears, and they will tell you how she - spoiled them when they went a-visiting to Gordon's Pride. - </p> - <p> - Ere I had regained my health, the war for Independence was won. I pray God - that time may soften the bitterness it caused, and heal the breach in that - noble race whose motto is Freedom. That the Stars and Stripes and the - Union Jack may one day float together to cleanse this world of tyranny! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - AFTERWORD - </h2> - <p> - The author makes most humble apologies to any who have, or think they - have, an ancestor in this book. He has drawn the foregoing with a very - free hand, and in the Maryland scenes has made use of names rather than of - actual personages. His purpose, however poorly accomplished, was to give - some semblance of reality to this part of the story. Hence he has - introduced those names in the setting, choosing them entirely at random - from the many prominent families of the colony. - </p> - <p> - No one may read the annals of these men, who were at once brave and - courtly, and of these women, who were ladies by nature as well as by - birth, and not love them. The fascination of that free and hospitable life - has been so strong on the writer of this novel that he closes it with a - genuine regret and the hope that its perusal may lead others to the - pleasure he has derived from the history of Maryland. - </p> - <p> - As few liberties as possible have been taken with the lives of Charles - James Fox and of John Paul Jones. The latter hero actually made a voyage - in the brigantine 'John' about the time he picked up Richard Carvel from - the Black Moll, after the episode with Mungo Maxwell at Tobago. The Scotch - scene, of course, is purely imaginary. Accuracy has been aimed at in the - account of the fight between the 'Bonhomme Richard' and the 'Serapis', - while a little different arrangement might have been better for the medium - of the narrative. To be sure, it was Mr. Mease, the purser, instead of - Richard Carvel, who so bravely fought the quarter-deck guns; and in - reality Midshipman Mayrant, Commodore Jones's aide, was wounded by a pike - in the thigh after the surrender. No injustice is done to the second and - third lieutenants, who were absent from the ship during the action. - </p> - <p> - The author must acknowledge that the only good anecdote in the book and - the only verse worth printing are stolen. The story on page concerning Mr. - Garrick and the Archbishop of York may be found in Fitzgerald's life of - the actor, much better told. The verse (in Chapter X) is by an unknown - author in the Annapolis Gazette, and is republished in Mr. Elihu Riley's - excellent “History of Annapolis.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - PG EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - - A bold front is half the battle - A man ought never to be frightened by appearances - Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest - Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back - Genius honored but never encouraged - God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see - He was our macaroni of Annapolis - Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys - It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven - No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing - Shaped his politics according to the company he was in - Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad - Sir, I have not yet begun to fight - The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure - Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages) - Thy politics are not over politic - Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur - Within every man's province to make himself what he will - Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle - Youth is in truth a mystery -</pre> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Richard Carvel, Complete, by Winston Churchill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - -***** This file should be named 5373-h.htm or 5373-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/5373/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Richard Carvel, Complete - -Author: Winston Churchill - -Last Updated: March 5, 2009 -Release Date: October 6, 2006 [EBook #5373] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - - -CONTENTS - - Volume 1. - I. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel Hall - II. Some Memories of Childhood - III. Caught by the Tide - IV. Grafton would heal an Old Breach - V. "If Ladies be but Young and Fair" - VI. I first suffer for the Cause - VII. Grafton has his Chance - - Volume 2. - VIII. Over the Wall - IX. Under False Colours - X. The Red in the Carvel Blood - XI. A Festival and a Parting - XII. News from a Far Country - - Volume 3. - XIII. Mr. Allen shows his Hand - XIV. The Volte Coupe - XV. Of which the Rector has the Worst - XVI. In which Some Things are made Clear - XVII. South River - XVIII. The Black Moll - - Volume 4. - XIX. A Man of Destiny - XX. A Sad Home-coming - XXI. The Gardener's Cottage - XXII. On the Road - XXIII. London Town - XXIV. Castle Yard - XXV. The Rescue - - Volume 5. - XXVI. The Part Horatio played - XXVII. In which I am sore tempted - XXVIII. Arlington Street - XXIX. I meet a very Great Young Man - XXX. A Conspiracy - XXXI. "Upstairs into the World" - XXXII. Lady Tankerville's Drum-major - XXXIII. Drury Lane - - Volume 6. - XXXIV. His Grace makes Advances - XXXV. In which my Lord Baltimore appears - XXXVI. A Glimpse of Mr. Garrick - XXXVII. The Serpentine - XXXVIII. In which I am roundly brought to task - XXXIX. Holland House - XL. Vauxhall - XLI. The Wilderness - - Volume 7. - XLII. My Friends are proven - XLIII. Annapolis once more - XLIV. Noblesse Oblige - XLV. The House of Memories - XLVI. Gordon's Pride - XLVII. Visitors - XLVIII. Multum in Parvo - XLIX. Liberty loses a Friend - - Volume 8. - L. Farewell to Gordon's - LI. How an Idle Prophecy came to pass - LII. How the Gardener's Son fought the Serapis - LIII. In which I make Some Discoveries - LIV. More Discoveries. - LV. The Love of a Maid for a Man - LVI. How Good came out of Evil - LVII. I come to my Own again - - - - -FOREWORD - -My sons and daughters have tried to persuade me to remodel these memoirs -of my grandfather into a latter-day romance. But I have thought it wiser -to leave them as he wrote them. Albeit they contain some details not of -interest to the general public, to my notion it is such imperfections -as these which lend to them the reality they bear. Certain it is, when -reading them, I live his life over again. - -Needless to say, Mr. Richard Carvel never intended them for publication. -His first apology would be for his Scotch, and his only defence is that -he was not a Scotchman. - -The lively capital which once reflected the wit and fashion of Europe -has fallen into decay. The silent streets no more echo with the rumble -of coaches and gay chariots, and grass grows where busy merchants trod. -Stately ball-rooms, where beauty once reigned, are cold and empty and -mildewed, and halls, where laughter rang, are silent. Time was when -every wide-throated chimney poured forth its cloud of smoke, when every -andiron held a generous log,--andirons which are now gone to decorate -Mr. Centennial's home in New York or lie with a tag in the window of -some curio shop. The mantel, carved in delicate wreaths, is boarded up, -and an unsightly stove mocks the gilded ceiling. Children romp in that -room with the silver door-knobs, where my master and his lady were wont -to sit at cards in silk and brocade, while liveried blacks entered -on tiptoe. No marble Cupids or tall Dianas fill the niches in the -staircase, and the mahogany board, round which has been gathered many a -famous toast and wit, is gone from the dining room. - -But Mr. Carvel's town house in Annapolis stands to-day, with its -neighbours, a mournful relic of a glory that is past. - -DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL. - -CALVERT HOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA, December 21, 1876. - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - - - - -Volume 1. - - - - -CHAPTER I. LIONEL CARVEL, OF CARVEL HALL - -Lionel Carvel, Esq., of Carvel Hall, in the county of Queen Anne, was no -inconsiderable man in his Lordship's province of Maryland, and indeed -he was not unknown in the colonial capitals from Williamsburg to Boston. -When his ships arrived out, in May or June, they made a goodly showing -at the wharves, and his captains were ever shrewd men of judgment who -sniffed a Frenchman on the horizon, so that none of the Carvel tobacco -ever went, in that way, to gladden a Gallic heart. Mr. Carvel's acres -were both rich and broad, and his house wide for the stranger who might -seek its shelter, as with God's help so it ever shall be. It has yet to -be said of the Carvels that their guests are hurried away, or that one, -by reason of his worldly goods or position, shall be more welcome than -another. - -I take no shame in the pride with which I write of my grandfather, -albeit he took the part of his Majesty and Parliament against the -Colonies. He was no palavering turncoat, like my Uncle Grafton, to cry -"God save the King!" again when an English fleet sailed up the bay. Mr. -Carvel's hand was large and his heart was large, and he was respected -and even loved by the patriots as a man above paltry subterfuge. He was -born at Carvel Hall in the year of our Lord 1696, when the house was, -I am told, but a small dwelling. It was his father, George Carvel, my -great-grandsire, reared the present house in the year 1720, of brick -brought from England as ballast for the empty ships; he added on, in -the years following, the wide wings containing the ball-room, and the -banquet-hall, and the large library at the eastern end, and the offices. -But it was my grandfather who built the great stables and the kennels -where he kept his beagles and his fleeter hounds. He dearly loved the -saddle and the chase, and taught me to love them too. Many the sharp -winter day I have followed the fox with him over two counties, and lain -that night, and a week after, forsooth, at the plantation of some kind -friend who was only too glad to receive us. Often, too, have we stood -together from early morning until dark night, waist deep, on the duck -points, I with a fowling-piece I was all but too young to carry, and -brought back a hundred red-heads or canvas-backs in our bags. He went -with unfailing regularity to the races at Annapolis or Chestertown or -Marlborough, often to see his own horses run, where the coaches of -the gentry were fifty and sixty around the course; where a negro, or a -hogshead of tobacco, or a pipe of Madeira was often staked at a single -throw. Those times, my children, are not ours, and I thought it not -strange that Mr. Carvel should delight in a good main between two cocks, -or a bull-baiting, or a breaking of heads at the Chestertown fair, where -he went to show his cattle and fling a guinea into the ring for the -winner. - -But it must not be thought that Lionel Carvel, your ancestor, was wholly -unlettered because he was a sportsman, though it must be confessed that -books occupied him only when the weather compelled, or when on his back -with the gout. At times he would fain have me read to him as he lay -in his great four-post bed with the flowered counterpane, from the -Spectator, stopping me now and anon at some awakened memory of his -youth. He never forgave Mr. Addison for killing stout, old Sir Roger de -Coverley, and would never listen to the butler's account of his death. -Mr. Carvel, too, had walked in Gray's Inn Gardens and met adventure at -Fox Hall, and seen the great Marlborough himself. He had a fondness -for Mr. Congreve's Comedies, many of which he had seen acted; and was -partial to Mr. Gay's Trivia, which brought him many a recollection. He -would also listen to Pope. But of the more modern poetry I think Mr. -Gray's Elegy pleased him best. He would laugh over Swift's gall and -wormwood, and would never be brought by my mother to acknowledge the -defects in the Dean's character. Why? He had once met the Dean in a -London drawing-room, when my grandfather was a young spark at Christ -Church, Oxford. He never tired of relating that interview. The hostess -was a very great lady indeed, and actually stood waiting for a word with -his Reverence, whose whim it was rather to talk to the young provincial. -He was a forbidding figure, in his black gown and periwig, so my -grandfather said, with a piercing blue eye and shaggy brow. He made the -mighty to come to him, while young Carvel stood between laughter and -fear of the great lady's displeasure. - -"I knew of your father," said the Dean, "before he went to the colonies. -He had done better at home, sir. He was a man of parts." - -"He has done indifferently well in Maryland, sir," said Mr. Carvel, -making his bow. - -"He hath gained wealth, forsooth," says the Dean, wrathfully, "and might -have had both wealth and fame had his love for King James not turned -his head. I have heard much of the colonies, and have read that doggerel -'Sot Weed Factor' which tells of the gluttonous life of ease you lead in -your own province. You can have no men of mark from such conditions, -Mr. Carvel. Tell me," he adds contemptuously, "is genius honoured among -you?" - -"Faith, it is honoured, your Reverence," said my grandfather, "but never -encouraged." - -This answer so pleased the Dean that he bade Mr. Carvel dine with him -next day at Button's Coffee House, where they drank mulled wine and old -sack, for which young Mr. Carvel paid. On which occasion his Reverence -endeavoured to persuade the young man to remain in England, and even -went so far as to promise his influence to obtain him preferment. But -Mr. Carvel chose rather (wisely or not, who can judge?) to come back to -Carvel Hall and to the lands of which he was to be master, and to play -the country squire and provincial magnate rather than follow the varying -fortunes of a political party at home. And he was a man much looked up -to in the province before the Revolution, and sat at the council board -of his Excellency the Governor, as his father had done before him, -and represented the crown in more matters than one when the French and -savages were upon our frontiers. - -Although a lover of good cheer, Mr. Carvel was never intemperate. To the -end of his days he enjoyed his bottle after dinner, nay, could scarce -get along without it; and mixed a punch or a posset as well as any in -our colony. He chose a good London-brewed ale or porter, and his ships -brought Madeira from that island by the pipe, and sack from Spain and -Portugal, and red wine from France when there was peace. And puncheons -of rum from Jamaica and the Indies for his people, holding that no -gentleman ever drank rum in the raw, though fairly supportable as punch. - -Mr. Carvel's house stands in Marlborough Street, a dreary mansion -enough. Praised be Heaven that those who inherit it are not obliged to -live there on the memory of what was in days gone by. The heavy green -shutters are closed; the high steps, though stoutly built, are shaky -after these years of disuse; the host of faithful servants who kept its -state are nearly all laid side by side at Carvel Hall. Harvey and -Chess and Scipio are no more. The kitchen, whither a boyish hunger oft -directed my eyes at twilight, shines not with the welcoming gleam -of yore. Chess no longer prepares the dainties which astonished Mr. -Carvel's guests, and which he alone could cook. The coach still -stands in the stables where Harvey left it, a lumbering relic of those -lumbering times when methinks there was more of goodwill and less of -haste in the world. The great brass knocker, once resplendent from -Scipio's careful hand, no longer fantastically reflects the guest as -he beats his tattoo, and Mr. Peale's portrait of my grandfather is gone -from the dining-room wall, adorning, as you know, our own drawing-room -at Calvert House. - -I shut my eyes, and there comes to me unbidden that dining-room in -Marlborough Street of a gray winter's afternoon, when I was but a lad. -I see my dear grandfather in his wig and silver-laced waistcoat and -his blue velvet coat, seated at the head of the table, and the precise -Scipio has put down the dumb-waiter filled with shining cut-glass at his -left hand, and his wine chest at his right, and with solemn pomp driven -his black assistants from the room. Scipio was Mr. Carvel's butler. -He was forbid to light the candles after dinner. As dark grew on, Mr. -Carvel liked the blazing logs for light, and presently sets the decanter -on the corner of the table and draws nearer the fire, his guests -following. I recall well how jolly Governor Sharpe, who was a frequent -visitor with us, was wont to display a comely calf in silk stocking; and -how Captain Daniel Clapsaddle would spread his feet with his toes out, -and settle his long pipe between his teeth. And there were besides -a host of others who sat at that fire whose names have passed into -Maryland's history,--Whig and Tory alike. And I remember a tall slip -of a lad who sat listening by the deep-recessed windows on the street, -which somehow are always covered in these pictures with a fine rain. -Then a coach passes,--a mahogany coach emblazoned with the Manners's -coat of arms, and Mistress Dorothy and her mother within. And my young -lady gives me one of those demure bows which ever set my heart agoing -like a smith's hammer of a Monday. - - - - -CHAPTER II. SOME MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD - -A traveller who has all but gained the last height of the great -mist-covered mountain looks back over the painful crags he has mastered -to where a light is shining on the first easy slope. That light is ever -visible, for it is Youth. - -After nigh fourscore and ten years of life that Youth is nearer to me -now than many things which befell me later. I recall as yesterday the -day Captain Clapsaddle rode to the Hall, his horse covered with sweat, -and the reluctant tidings of Captain Jack Carvel's death on his lips. -And strangely enough that day sticks in my memory as of delight -rather than sadness. When my poor mother had gone up the stairs on my -grandfather's arm the strong soldier took me on his knee, and drawing -his pistol from his holster bade me snap the lock, which I was barely -able to do. And he told me wonderful tales of the woods beyond the -mountains, and of the painted men who tracked them; much wilder and -fiercer they were than those stray Nanticokes I had seen from time to -time near Carvel Hall. And when at last he would go I clung to him, -so he swung me to the back of his great horse Ronald, and I seized the -bridle in my small hands. The noble beast, like his master, loved a -child well, and he cantered off lightly at the captain's whistle, who -cried "bravo" and ran by my side lest I should fall. Lifting me off at -length he kissed me and bade me not to annoy my mother, the tears in his -eyes again. And leaping on Ronald was away for the ferry with never so -much as a look behind, leaving me standing in the road. - -And from that time I saw more of him and loved him better than any man -save my grandfather. He gave me a pony on my next birthday, and a little -hogskin saddle made especially by Master Wythe, the London saddler in -the town, with a silver-mounted bridle. Indeed, rarely did the captain -return from one of his long journeys without something for me and a -handsome present for my mother. Mr. Carvel would have had him make his -home with us when we were in town, but this he would not do. He lodged -in Church Street, over against the Coffee House, dining at that hostelry -when not bidden out, or when not with us. He was much sought after. -I believe there was scarce a man of note in any of the colonies not -numbered among his friends. 'Twas said he loved my mother, and could -never come to care for any other woman, and he promised my father in the -forests to look after her welfare and mine. This promise, you shall see, -he faithfully kept. - -Though you have often heard from my lips the story of my mother, I must -for the sake of those who are to come after you, set it down here -as briefly as I may. My grandfather's bark 'Charming Sally', Captain -Stanwix, having set out from Bristol on the 15th of April, 1736, with -a fair wind astern and a full cargo of English goods below, near the -Madeiras fell in with foul weather, which increased as she entered the -trades. Captain Stanwix being a prudent man, shortened sail, knowing the -harbour of Funchal to be but a shallow bight in the rock, and worse than -the open sea in a southeaster. The third day he hove the Sally to; being -a stout craft and not overladen she weathered the gale with the loss of -a jib, and was about making topsails again when a full-rigged ship was -descried in the offing giving signals of distress. Night was coming on -very fast, and the sea was yet running too high for a boat to live, but -the gallant captain furled his topsails once more to await the morning. -It could be seen from her signals that the ship was living throughout -the night, but at dawn she foundered before the Sally's boats could be -put in the water; one of them was ground to pieces on the falls. Out of -the ship's company and passengers they picked up but five souls, four -sailors and a little girl of two years or thereabouts. The men knew -nothing more of her than that she had come aboard at Brest with -her mother, a quiet, delicate lady who spoke little with the other -passengers. The ship was 'La Favourite du Roy', bound for the French -Indies. - -Captain Stanwix's wife, who was a good, motherly person, took charge -of the little orphan, and arriving at Carvel Hall delivered her to my -grandfather, who brought her up as his own daughter. You may be sure the -emblem of Catholicism found upon her was destroyed, and she was baptized -straightway by Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, into the -Established Church. Her clothes were of the finest quality, and her -little handkerchief had worked into the corner of it a coronet, with the -initials "E de T" beside it. Around her neck was that locket with the -gold chain which I have so often shown you, on one side of which is the -miniature of the young officer in his most Christian Majesty's uniform, -and on the other a yellow-faded slip of paper with these words: "Elle -est la mienne, quoiqu'elle ne porte pas mou nom." "She is mine, although -she does not bear my name." - -My grandfather wrote to the owners of 'La Favourite du Roy', and -likewise directed his English agent to spare nothing in the search for -some clew to the child's identity. All that he found was that the mother -had been entered on the passenger-list as Madame la Farge, of Paris, and -was bound for Martinico. Of the father there was no trace whatever. -The name "la Farge" the agent, Mr. Dix, knew almost to a certainty was -assumed, and the coronet on the handkerchief implied that the child was -of noble parentage. The meaning conveyed by the paper in the locket, -which was plainly a clipping from a letter, was such that Mr. Carvel -never showed it to my mother, and would have destroyed it had he not -felt that some day it might aid in solving the mystery. So he kept it in -his strongbox, where he thought it safe from prying eyes. But my Uncle -Grafton, ever a deceitful lad, at length discovered the key and read the -paper, and afterwards used the knowledge he thus obtained as a reproach -and a taunt against my mother. I cannot even now write his name without -repulsion. - -This new member of the household was renamed Elizabeth Carvel, though -they called her Bess, and of a course she was greatly petted and -spoiled, and ruled all those about her. As she grew from childhood to -womanhood her beauty became talked about, and afterwards, when Mistress -Carvel went to the Assembly, a dozen young sparks would crowd about the -door of her coach, and older and more serious men lost their heads on -her account. - -Her devotion to Mr. Carvel was such, however, that she seemed to care -but little for the attention she received, and she continued to grace -his board and entertain his company. He fairly worshipped her. It was -his delight to surprise her with presents from England, with rich silks -and brocades for gowns, for he loved to see her bravely dressed. The -spinet he gave her, inlaid with ivory, we have still. And he caused a -chariot to be made for her in London, and she had her own horses and her -groom in the Carvel livery. - -People said it was but natural that she should fall in love with Captain -Jack, my father. He was the soldier of the family, tall and straight and -dashing. He differed from his younger brother Grafton as day from -night. Captain Jack was open and generous, though a little given to rash -enterprise and madcap adventure. He loved my mother from a child. His -friend Captain Clapsaddle loved her too, and likewise Grafton, but it -soon became evident that she would marry Captain Jack or nobody. He was -my grandfather's favourite, and though Mr. Carvel had wished him more -serious, his joy when Bess blushingly told him the news was a pleasure -to see. And Grafton turned to revenge; he went to Mr. Carvel with the -paper he had taken from the strong-box and claimed that my mother was of -spurious birth and not fit to marry a Carvel. He afterwards spread the -story secretly among the friends of the family. By good fortune little -harm arose therefrom, since all who knew my mother loved her, and were -willing to give her credit for the doubt; many, indeed, thought the -story sprang from Grafton's jealousy and hatred. Then it was that Mr. -Carvel gave to Grafton the estate in Kent County and bade him shift for -himself, saying that he washed his hands of a son who had acted such a -part. - -But Captain Clapsaddle came to the wedding in the long drawing-room at -the Hall and stood by Captain Jack when he was married, and kissed the -bride heartily. And my mother cried about this afterwards, and said that -it grieved her sorely that she should have given pain to such a noble -man. - -After the blow which left her a widow, she continued to keep Mr. -Carvel's home. I recall her well, chiefly as a sad and beautiful woman, -stately save when she kissed me with passion and said that I bore my -father's look. She drooped like the flower she was, and one spring day -my grandfather led me to receive her blessing and to be folded for -the last time in those dear arms. With a smile on her lips she rose -to heaven to meet my father. And she lies buried with the rest of the -Carvels at the Hall, next to the brave captain, her husband. - -And so I grew up with my grandfather, spending the winters in town and -the long summers on the Eastern Shore. I loved the country best, and the -old house with its hundred feet of front standing on the gentle slope -rising from the river's mouth, the green vines Mr. Carvel had fetched -from England all but hiding the brick, and climbing to the angled -roof; and the velvet green lawn of silvery grass brought from England, -descending gently terrace by terrace to the waterside, where lay our -pungies and barges. There was then a tiny pillared porch framing the -front door, for our ancestors never could be got to realize the Maryland -climate, and would rarely build themselves wide verandas suitable to -that colony. At Carvel Hall we had, to be sure, the cool spring house -under the willows for sultry days, with its pool dished out for bathing; -and a trellised arbour, and octagonal summer house with seats where -my mother was wont to sit sewing while my grandfather dreamed over his -pipe. On the lawn stood the oaks and walnuts and sycamores which still -cast their shade over it, and under them of a summer's evening Mr. -Carvel would have his tea alone; save oftentimes when a barge would come -swinging up the river with ten velvet-capped blacks at the oars, and -one of our friendly neighbours--Mr. Lloyd or Mr. Bordley, or perchance -little Mr. Manners--would stop for a long evening with him. They seldom -came without their ladies and children. What romps we youngsters had -about the old place whilst our elders talked their politics. - -In childhood the season which delighted me the most was spring. I would -count the days until St. Taminas, which, as you knew, falls on the first -of May. And the old custom was for the young men to deck themselves out -as Indian bucks and sweep down on the festivities around the Maypole on -the town green, or at night to surprise the guests at a ball and force -the gentlemen to pay down a shilling, and sometimes a crown apiece, and -the host to give them a bowl of punch. Then came June. My grandfather -celebrated his Majesty's birthday in his own jolly fashion, and I had my -own birthday party on the tenth. And on the fifteenth, unless it chanced -upon a Sunday, my grandfather never failed to embark in his pinnace at -the Annapolis dock for the Hall. Once seated in the stern between Mr. -Carvel's knees, what rapture when at last we shot out into the blue -waters of the bay and I thought of the long summer of joy before me. -Scipio was generalissimo of these arrangements, and was always at the -dock punctually at ten to hand my grandfather in, a ceremony in which he -took great pride, and to look his disapproval should we be late. As he -turned over the key of the town house he would walk away with a stern -dignity to marshal the other servants in the horse-boat. - -One fifteenth of June two children sat with bated breath in the -pinnace,--Dorothy Manners and myself. Mistress Dolly was then as -mischievous a little baggage as ever she proved afterwards. She was -coming to pass a week at the Hall, her parents, whose place was next to -ours, having gone to Philadelphia on a visit. We rounded Kent Island, -which lay green and beautiful in the flashing waters, and at length -caught sight of the old windmill, with its great arms majestically -turning, and the cupola of Carvel House shining white among the trees; -and of the upper spars of the shipping, with sails neatly furled, lying -at the long wharves, where the English wares Mr. Carvel had commanded -for the return trips were unloading. Scarce was the pinnace brought into -the wind before I had leaped ashore and greeted with a shout the Hall -servants drawn up in a line on the green, grinning a welcome. Dorothy -and I scampered over the grass and into the cool, wide house, resting -awhile on the easy sloping steps within, hand in hand. And then away for -that grand tour of inspection we had been so long planning together. How -well I recall that sunny afternoon, when the shadows of the great oaks -were just beginning to lengthen. Through the greenhouses we marched, -monarchs of all we surveyed, old Porphery, the gardener, presenting -Mistress Dolly with a crown of orange blossoms, for which she thanked -him with a pretty courtesy her governess had taught her. Were we not -king and queen returned to our summer palace? And Spot and Silver and -Song and Knipe, the wolf-hound, were our train, though not as decorous -as rigid etiquette demanded, since they were forever running after the -butterflies. On we went through the stiff, box-bordered walks of the -garden, past the weather-beaten sundial and the spinning-house and the -smoke-house to the stables. Here old Harvey, who had taught me to -ride Captain Daniel's pony, is equerry, and young Harvey our personal -attendant; old Harvey smiles as we go in and out of the stalls rubbing -the noses of our trusted friends, and gives a gruff but kindly warning -as to Cassandra's heels. He recalls my father at the same age. - -Jonas Tree, the carpenter, sits sunning himself on his bench before the -shop, but mysteriously disappears when he sees us, and returns presently -with a little ship he has fashioned for me that winter, all complete -with spars and sails, for Jonas was a shipwright on the Severn in the -old country before he came as a king's passenger to the new. Dolly and -I are off directly to the backwaters of the river, where the new boat -is launched with due ceremony as the Conqueror, his Majesty's latest -ship-of-the-line. Jonas himself trims her sails, and she sets off right -gallantly across the shallows, heeling to the breeze for all the world -like a real man-o'-war. Then the King would fain cruise at once against -the French, but Queen Dorothy must needs go with him. His Majesty points -out that when fighting is to be done, a ship of war is no place for a -woman, whereat her Majesty stamps her little foot and throws her crown -of orange blossoms from her, and starts off for the milk-house in high -dudgeon, vowing she will play no more. - -And it ends as it ever will end, be the children young or old, for the -French pass from his Majesty's mind and he runs after his consort to -implore forgiveness, leaving poor Jonas to take care of the Conqueror. - -How short those summer days? All too short for the girl and boy who had -so much to do in them. The sun rising over the forest often found us -peeping through the blinds, and when he sank into the bay at night we -were still running, tired but happy, and begging patient Hester for half -an hour more. - -"Lawd, Marse Dick," I can hear her say, "you an' Miss Dolly's been on -yo' feet since de dawn. And so's I, honey." - -And so we had. We would spend whole days on the wharves, all bustle and -excitement, sometimes seated on the capstan of the Sprightly Bess or -perched in the nettings of the Oriole, of which ship old Stanwix was -now captain. He had grown gray in Mr. Carvel's service, and good Mrs. -Stanwix was long since dead. Often we would mount together on the little -horse Captain Daniel had given me, Dorothy on a pillion behind, to go -with my grandfather to inspect the farm. Mr. Starkie, the overseer, -would ride beside us, his fowling-piece slung over his shoulder and his -holster on his hip; a kind man and capable, and unlike Mr. Evans, my -Uncle Grafton's overseer, was seldom known to use his firearms or the -rawhide slung across his saddle. The negroes in their linsey-woolsey -jackets and checked trousers would stand among the hills grinning at us -children as we passed; and there was not one of them, nor of the white -servants for that matter, that I could not call by name. - -And all this time I was busily wooing Mistress Dolly; but she, little -minx, would give me no satisfaction. I see her standing among the -strawberries, her black hair waving in the wind, and her red lips redder -still from the stain. And the sound of her childish voice comes back to -me now after all these years. And this was my first proposal: - -"Dorothy, when you grow up and I grow up, you will marry me, and I shall -give you all these strawberries." - -"I will marry none but a soldier," says she, "and a great man." - -"Then will I be a soldier," I cried, "and greater than the Governor -himself." And I believed it. - -"Papa says I shall marry an earl," retorts Dorothy, with a toss of her -pretty head. - -"There are no earls among us," I exclaimed hotly, for even then I had -some of that sturdy republican spirit which prevailed among the younger -generation. "Our earls are those who have made their own way, like my -grandfather." For I had lately heard Captain Clapsaddle say this and -much more on the subject. But Dorothy turned up her nose. - -"I shall go home when I am eighteen,"--she said, "and I shall meet his -Majesty the King." - -And to such an argument I found no logical answer. - -Mr. Marmaduke Manners and his lady came to fetch Dorothy home. He was -a foppish little gentleman who thought more of the cut of his waistcoat -than of the affairs of the province, and would rather have been bidden -to lead the assembly ball than to sit in council with his Excellency -the Governor. My first recollection of him is of contempt. He must needs -have his morning punch just so, and complained whiningly of Scipio if -some perchance were spilled on the glass. He must needs be taken abroad -in a chair when it rained. And though in the course of a summer he was -often at Carvel Hall he never tarried long, and came to see Mr. -Carvel's guests rather than Mr. Carvel. He had little in common with my -grandfather, whose chief business and pleasure was to promote industry -on his farm. Mr. Marmaduke was wont to rise at noon, and knew not wheat -from barley, or good leaf from bad; his hands he kept like a lady's, -rendering them almost useless by the long lace on the sleeves, and his -chief pastime was card-playing. It was but reasonable therefore, when -the troubles with the mother country began, that he chose the King's -side alike from indolence and contempt for things republican. - -Of Mrs. Manners I shall say more by and by. - -I took a mischievous delight in giving Mr. Manners every annoyance -my boyish fancy could conceive. The evening of his arrival he and Mr. -Carvel set out for a stroll about the house, Mr. Marmaduke mincing his -steps, for it had rained that morning. And presently they came upon -the windmill with its long arms moving lazily in the light breeze, near -touching the ground as they passed, for the mill was built in the Dutch -fashion. I know not what moved me, but hearing Mr. Manners carelessly -humming a minuet while my grandfather explained the usefulness of the -mill, I seized hold of one of the long arms as it swung by, and -before the gentlemen could prevent was carried slowly upwards. Dorothy -screamed, and her father stood stock still with amazement and fear, Mr. -Carvel being the only one who kept his presence of mind. "Hold on tight, -Richard!" I heard him cry. It was dizzy riding, though the motion was -not great, and before I had reached the right angle I regretted my -rashness. I caught a glimpse of the Bay with the red sun on it, and as -I turned saw far below me the white figure of Ivie Rawlinson, the -Scotch miller, who had run out. "O haith!" he shouted. "Hand fast, -Mr. Richard!"--And so I clung tightly and came down without much -inconvenience, though indifferently glad to feel the ground again. - -Mr. Marmaduke, as I expected, was in a great temper, and swore he had -not had such a fright for years. He looked for Mr. Carvel to cane me -stoutly: But Ivie laughed heartily, and said: "I wad yell gang far for -anither laddie wi' the spunk, Mr. Manners," and with a sly look at my -grandfather, "Ilka day we hae some sic whigmeleery." - -I think Mr. Carvel was not ill pleased with the feat, or with Mr. -Marmaduke's way of taking it. For afterwards I overheard him telling the -story to Colonel Lloyd, and both gentlemen laughing over Mr. Manners's -discomfiture. - - - - -CHAPTER III. CAUGHT BY THE TIDE - -It is a nigh impossible task on the memory to trace those influences by -which a lad is led to form his life's opinions, and for my part I hold -that such things are bred into the bone, and that events only serve to -strengthen them. In this way only can I account for my bitterness, at -a very early age, against that King whom my seeming environment should -have made me love. For my grandfather was as stanch a royalist as ever -held a cup to majesty's health. And children are most apt before they -can reason for themselves to take the note from those of their elders -who surround them. It is true that many of Mr. Carvel's guests were of -the opposite persuasion from him: Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll, Mr. -Lloyd and Mr. Bordley, and many others, including our friend Captain -Clapsaddle. And these gentlemen were frequently in argument, but -political discussion is Greek to a lad. - -Mr. Carvel, as I have said, was most of his life a member of the -Council, a man from whom both Governor Sharpe and Governor Eden were -glad to take advice because of his temperate judgment and deep knowledge -of the people of the province. At times, when his Council was scattered, -Governor Sharpe would consult Mr. Carvel alone, and often have I known -my grandfather to embark in haste from the Hall in response to a call -from his Excellency. - -'Twas in the latter part of August, in the year 1765, made memorable by -the Stamp Act, that I first came in touch with the deep-set feelings of -the times then beginning, and I count from that year the awakening of -the sympathy which determined my career. One sultry day I was wading in -the shallows after crabs, when the Governor's messenger came drifting -in, all impatience at the lack of wind. He ran to the house to seek Mr. -Carvel, and I after him, with all a boy's curiosity, as fast as my small -legs would carry me. My grandfather hurried out to order his barge to -be got ready at once, so that I knew something important was at hand. At -first he refused me permission to go, but afterwards relented, and about -eleven in the morning we pulled away strongly, the ten blacks bending to -the oars as if their lives were at stake. - -A wind arose before we sighted Greensbury Point, and I saw a bark -sailing in, but thought nothing of this until Mr. Carvel, who had been -silent and preoccupied, called for his glass and swept her decks. She -soon shortened sail, and went so leisurely that presently our light -barge drew alongside, and I perceived Mr. Zachariah Hood, a merchant -of the town, returning from London, hanging over her rail. Mr. Hood was -very pale in spite of his sea-voyage; he flung up his cap at our boat, -but Mr. Carvel's salute in return was colder than he looked for. As -we came in view of the dock, a fine rain was setting in, and to my -astonishment I beheld such a mass of people assembled as I had never -seen, and scarce standing-room on the wharves. We were to have gone -to the Governor's wharf in the Severn, but my grandfather changed his -intention at once. Many of the crowd greeted him as we drew near them, -and, having landed, respectfully made room for him to pass through. I -followed him a-tremble with excitement and delight over such an unwonted -experience. We had barely gone ten paces, however, before Mr. Carvel -stopped abreast of Mr. Claude, mine host of the Coffee House, who cried: - -"Hast seen his Majesty's newest representative, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Mr. Hood is on board the bark, sir," replied my grandfather. "I take it -you mean Mr. Hood." - -"Ay, that I do; Mr. Zachariah Hood, come to lick stamps for his -brother-colonists." - -"After licking his Majesty's boots," says a wag near by, which brings a -laugh from those about us. I remembered that I had heard some talk as -to how Mr. Hood had sought and obtained from King George the office of -Stamp Distributor for the province. Now, my grandfather, God rest him! -was as doughty an old gentleman as might well be, and would not listen -without protest to remarks which bordered sedition. He had little fear -of things below, and none of a mob. - -"My masters," he shouted, with a flourish of his stick, so stoutly that -people fell back from him, "know that ye are met against the law, and -endanger the peace of his Lordship's government." - -"Good enough, Mr. Carvel," said Claude, who seemed to be the spokesman. -"But how if we are stamped against law and his Lordship's government? -How then, sir? Your honour well knows we have naught against either, and -are as peaceful a mob as ever assembled." - -This brought on a great laugh, and they shouted from all sides, "How -then, Mr. Carvel?" And my grandfather, perceiving that he would lose -dignity by argument, and having done his duty by a protest, was wisely -content with that. They opened wider the lane for him to pass through, -and he made his way, erect and somewhat defiant, to Mr. Pryse's, the -coachmaker opposite, holding me by the hand. The second storey of -Pryse's shop had a little balcony standing out in front, and here we -established ourselves, that we might watch what was going forward. - -The crowd below grew strangely silent as the bark came nearer and -nearer, until Mr. Hood showed himself on the poop, when there rose a -storm of hisses, mingled with shouts of derision. "How goes it at St. -James, Mr. Hood?" and "Have you tasted his Majesty's barley?" And some -asked him if he was come as their member of Parliament. Mr. Hood dropped -a bow, though what he said was drowned. The bark came in prettily -enough, men in the crowd even catching her lines and making them fast -to the piles. A gang-plank was thrown over. "Come out, Mr. Hood," they -cried; "we are here to do you honour, and to welcome you home again." -There were leather breeches with staves a-plenty around that plank, and -faces that meant no trifling. "McNeir, the rogue," exclaimed Mr. Carvel, -"and that hulk of a tanner, Brown. And I would know those smith's -shoulders in a thousand." "Right, sir," says Pryse, "and 'twill serve -them proper. when the King's troops come among them for quartering." -Pryse being the gentry's patron, shaped his politics according to the -company he was in: he could ill be expected to seize one of his own ash -spokes and join the resistance. Just then I caught a glimpse of Captain -Clapsaddle on the skirts of the crowd, and with him Mr. Swain and some -of the dissenting gentry. And my boyish wrath burst forth against that -man smirking and smiling on the decks of the bark, so that I shouted -shrilly: "Mr. Hood will be cudgelled and tarred as he deserves," and -shook my little fist at him, so that many under us laughed and cheered -me. Mr. Carvel pushed me back into the window and out of their sight. - -The crew of the bark had assembled on the quarterdeck, stout English -tars every man of them, armed with pikes and belaying-pins; and at -a word from the mate they rushed in a body over the plank. Some were -thrust off into the water, but so fierce was their onset that others -gained the wharf, laying sharply about them in all directions, but -getting full as many knocks as they gave. For a space there was a -very bedlam of cries and broken heads, those behind in the mob surging -forward to reach the scrimmage, forcing their own comrades over the -edge. McNeir had his thigh broken by a pike, and was dragged back after -the first rush was over; and the mate of the bark was near to drowning, -being rescued, indeed, by Graham, the tanner. Mr. Hood stood white in -the gangway, dodging a missile now and then, waiting his chance, which -never came. For many of the sailors were captured and carried bodily -to the "Rose and Crown" and the "Three Blue Balls," where they became -properly drunk on Jamaica rum; others made good their escape on board. -And at length the bark cast off again, amidst jeers and threats, and -one-third of her crew missing, and drifted slowly back to the roads. - -From the dock, after all was quiet, Mr. Carvel stepped into his barge -and rowed to the Governor's, whose house was prettily situated near -Hanover Street, with ground running down to the Severn. His Excellency -appeared much relieved to see my grandfather; Mr. Daniel Dulany was -with him, and the three gentlemen at once repaired to the Governor's -writing-closet for consultation. - -Mr. Carvel's town house being closed, we stopped with his Excellency. -There were, indeed, scarce any of the gentry in town at that season save -a few of the Whig persuasion. Excitement ran very high; farmers -flocked in every day from the country round about to take part in the -demonstration against the Act. Mr. Hood's storehouse was burned to the -ground. Mr. Hood getting ashore by stealth, came, however, unmolested to -Annapolis and offered at a low price the goods he had brought out in the -bark, thinking thus to propitiate his enemies. This step but inflamed -them the more. - -My grandfather having much business to look to, I was left to my own -devices, and the devices of an impetuous lad of twelve are not always -such as his elders would choose for him. I was continually burning with -a desire to see what was proceeding in the town, and hearing one day a -great clamour and tolling of bells, I ran out of the Governor's gate and -down Northwest Street to the Circle, where a strange sight met my eyes. -A crowd like that I had seen on the dock had collected there, Mr. Swain -and Mr. Hammond and other barristers holding them in check. Mounted on -a one-horse cart was a stuffed figure of the detested Mr. Hood. Mr. -Hammond made a speech, but for the laughter and cheering I could not -catch a word of it. I pushed through the people, as a boy will, diving -between legs to get a better view, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, -bringing me up suddenly. And I recognized Mr. Matthias Tilghman, and -with him was Mr. Samuel Chase. - -"Does your grandfather know you are here, lad?" said Mr. Tilghman. - -I paused a moment for breath before I answered: "He attended the rally -at the dock himself, sir, and I believe enjoyed it." - -Both gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Chase remarked that if all the other -party were like Mr. Carvel, troubles would soon cease. "I mean not -Grafton," says he, with a wink at Mr. Tilghman. - -"I'll warrant, Richard, your uncle would be but ill pleased to see you -in such company." - -"Nay, sir," I replied, for I never feared to speak up, "there are you -wrong. I think it would please my uncle mightily." - -"The lad hath indifferent penetration," said Mr, Tilghman, laughing, and -adding more soberly: "If you never do worse than this, Richard, Maryland -may some day be proud of you." - -Mr. Hammond having finished his speech, a paper was placed in the hand -of the effigy, and the crowd bore it shouting and singing to the hill, -where Mr. John Shaw, the city carpenter, had made a gibbet. There nine -and thirty lashes were bestowed on the unfortunate image, the people -crying out that this was the Mosaic Law. And I cried as loud as any, -though I knew not the meaning of the words. They hung Mr. Hood to the -gibbet and set fire to a tar barrel under him, and so left him. - -The town wore a holiday look that day, and I was loth to go back to -the Governor's house. Good patriots' shops were closed, their owners -parading as on Sunday in their best, pausing in knots at every corner -to discuss the affair with which the town simmered. I encountered old -Farris, the clockmaker, in his brown coat besprinkled behind with powder -from his queue. "How now, Master Richard?" says he, merrily. "This is no -place for young gentlemen of your persuasion." - -Next I came upon young Dr. Courtenay, the wit of the Tuesday Club, of -whom I shall have more to say hereafter. He was taking the air with Mr. -James Fotheringay, Will's eldest brother, but lately back from Oxford -and the Temple. - -The doctor wore five-pound ruffles and a ten-pound wig, was dressed in -cherry silk, and carried a long, clouded cane. His hat had the latest -cock, for he was our macaroni of Annapolis. - -"Egad, Richard," he cries, "you are the only other loyalist I have seen -abroad to-day." - -I remember swelling with indignation at the affront. "I call them -Tories, sir," I flashed back, "and I am none such." "No Tory!" says he, -nudging Mr. Fotheringay, who was with him; "I had as lief believe your -grandfather hated King George." I astonished them both by retorting that -Mr. Carvel might think as he pleased, that being every man's right; but -that I chose to be a Whig. "I would tell you as a friend, young man," -replied the doctor, "that thy politics are not over politic." And they -left me puzzling, laughing with much relish over some catch in the -doctor's words. As for me, I could perceive no humour in them. - -It was now near six of the clock, but instead of going direct to the -Governor's I made my way down Church Street toward the water. Near the -dock I saw many people gathered in the street in front of the "Ship" -tavern, a time-honoured resort much patronized by sailors. My curiosity -led me to halt there also. The "Ship" had stood in that place nigh on -to three-score years, it was said. Its latticed windows were swung open, -and from within came snatches of "Tom Bowling," "Rule Britannia," and -many songs scarce fit for a child to hear. Now and anon some one in the -street would throw back a taunt to these British sentiments, which went -unheeded. "They be drunk as lords," said Weld, the butcher's apprentice, -"and when they comes out we'll hev more than one broken head in this -street." The songs continuing, he cried again, "Come out, d-n ye." Weld -had had more than his own portion of rum that day. Spying me seated on -the gate-post opposite, he shouted: "So ho, Master Carvel, the streets -are not for his Majesty's supporters to-day." Other artisans who were -there bade him leave me in peace, saying that my grandfather was a good -friend of the people. The matter might have ended there had I been older -and wiser, but the excitement of the day had gone to my head like wine. -"I am as stout a patriot as you, Weld," I shouted back, and flushed at -the cheering that followed. And Weld ran up to me, and though I was a -good piece of a lad, swung me lightly onto his shoulder. "Harkee, Master -Richard," he said, "I can get nothing out of the poltroons by shouting. -Do you go in and say that Weld will fight any mother's son of them -single-handed." - -"For shame, to send a lad into a tavern," said old Bobbins, who had -known my grandfather these many years. But the desire for a row was so -great among the rest that they silenced him. Weld set me down, and I, -nothing loth, ran through the open door. - -I had never before been in the "Ship," nor, indeed, in any tavern save -that of Master Dingley, near Carvel Hall. The "Ship" was a bare place -enough, with low black beams and sanded floor, and rough tables and -chairs set about. On that September evening it was stifling hot; and the -odours from the men, and the spilled rum and tobacco smoke, well-nigh -overpowered me. The room was filled with a motley gang of sailors, -mostly from the bark Mr. Hood had come on, and some from H.M.S. Hawk, -then lying in the harbour. - -A strapping man-o'-war's-man sat near the door, his jacket thrown open -and his great chest bared, and when he perceived me he was in the act of -proposing a catch; 'twas "The Great Bell o' Lincoln," I believe; and -he held a brimming cup of bumbo in his hand. In his surprise he set it -awkwardly down again, thereby spilling full half of it. "Avast," says -he, with an oath, "what's this come among us?" and he looked me over -with a comical eye. "A d-d provincial," he went on scornfully, "but a -gentleman's son, or Jack Ball's a liar." Whereupon his companions rose -from their seats and crowded round me. More than one reeled against -me. And though I was somewhat awed by the strangeness of that dark, -ill-smelling room, and by the rough company in which I found myself, I -held my ground, and spoke up as strongly as I might. - -"Weld, the butcher's apprentice, bids me say he will fight any man among -you single-handed." - -"So ho, my little gamecock, my little schooner with a swivel," said he -who had called himself Jack Ball, "and where can this valiant butcher be -found?" - -"He waits in the street," I answered more boldly. - -"Split me fore and aft if he waits long," said Jack, draining the rest -of his rum. And picking me up as easily as did Weld he rushed out of -the door, and after him as many of his mates as could walk or stagger -thither. - -In the meantime the news had got abroad in the street that the butcher's -apprentice was to fight one of the Hawk's men, and when I emerged from -the tavern the crowd had doubled, and people were running hither in all -haste from both directions. But that fight was never to be. Big Jack -Ball had scarce set me down and shouted a loud defiance, shaking his -fist at Weld, who stood out opposite, when a soldierly man on a great -horse turned the corner and wheeled between the combatants. I knew at -a glance it was Captain Clapsaddle, and guiltily wished myself at the -Governor's. The townspeople knew him likewise, and many were slinking -away even before he spoke, as his charger stood pawing the ground. - -"What's this I hear, you villain," said he to Weld, in his deep, ringing -voice, "that you have not only provoked a row with one of the King's -sailors, but have dared send a child into that tavern with your fool's -message?" - -Weld was awkward and sullen enough, and no words came to him. - -"Your tongue, you sot," the captain went on, drawing his sword in his -anger, "is it true you have made use of a gentleman's son for your low -purposes?" - -But Weld was still silent, and not a sound came from either side until -old Robbins spoke up. - -"There are many here can say I warned him, your honour," he said. - -"Warned him!" cried the captain. "Mr. Carvel has just given you twenty -pounds for your wife, and you warned him!" - -Robbins said no more; and the butcher's apprentice, hanging his head, -as well he might before the captain, I was much moved to pity for him, -seeing that my forwardness had in some sense led him on. - -"Twas in truth my fault, captain," I cried out. The captain looked at -me, and said nothing. After that the butcher made bold to take up his -man's defence. - -"Master Carvel was indeed somewhat to blame, sir," said he, "and Weld is -in liquor." - -"And I'll have him to pay for his drunkenness," said Captain Clapsaddle, -hotly. "Get to your homes," he cried. "Ye are a lot of idle hounds, who -would make liberty the excuse for riot." He waved his sword at the pack -of them, and they scattered like sheep until none but Weld was left. -"And as for you, Weld," he continued, "you'll rue this pretty business, -or Daniel Clapsaddle never punished a cut-throat." And turning to Jack -Ball, he bade him lift me to the saddle, and so I rode with him to the -Governor's without a word; for I knew better than to talk when he was in -that mood. - -The captain was made to tarry and sup with his Excellency and my -grandfather, and I sat perforce a fourth at the table, scarce daring to -conjecture as to the outcome of my escapade. But as luck would have -it, the Governor had been that day in such worry and perplexity, and my -grandfather also, that my absence had passed unnoticed. Nor did my good -friend the captain utter a word to them of what he knew. But afterwards -he called me to him and set me upon his knee. How big, and kind, and -strong he was, and how I loved his bluff soldier's face and blunt ways. -And when at last he spoke, his words burnt deep in my memory, so that -even now I can repeat them. - -"Richard," he said, "I perceive you are like your father. I love your -spirit greatly, but you have been overrash to-day. Remember this, lad, -that you are a gentleman, the son of the bravest and truest gentleman -I have ever known, save one; and he is destined to high things." I know -now that he spoke of Colonel Washington. "And that your mother," here -his voice trembled,--"your mother was a lady, every inch of her, and too -good for this world. Remember, and seek no company, therefore, beyond -that circle in which you were born. Fear not to be kind and generous, as -I know you ever will be, but choose not intimates from the tavern." Here -the captain cleared his throat, and seemed to seek for words. "I fear -there are times coming, my lad," he went on presently, "when every man -must choose his side, and stand arrayed in his own colours. It is not -for me to shape your way of thinking. Decide in your own mind that which -is right, and when you have so decided,"--he drew his sword, as was his -habit when greatly moved, and placed his broad hand upon my head,--"know -then that God is with you, and swerve not from thy course the width of -this blade for any man." - -We sat upon a little bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the -wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the -setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have -sometimes since felt in the presence of heroes. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH - -Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as ever -wore a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved me -as much by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. The -worthy doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenly -at Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visiting -a poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but three -years of fourscore come Whitsuntide. He was universally loved and -respected in that district where he had lived so long and ably, by -rich and poor alike, and those of many creeds saw him to his last -resting-place. Mr. Carroll, of Carrollton, who was an ardent Catholic, -stood bareheaded beside the grave. - -Doctor Hilliard was indeed a beacon in a time when his profession among -us was all but darkness, and when many of the scandals of the community -might be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to prevent them. -The fault lay without doubt in his Lordship's charter, which gave to the -parishioners no voice in the choosing of their pastors. This matter was -left to Lord Baltimore's whim. Hence it was that he sent among us -so many fox-hunting and gaming parsons who read the service ill and -preached drowsy and illiterate sermons. Gaming and fox-hunting, did -I say? These are but charitable words to cover the real characters of -those impostors in holy orders, whose doings would often bring the -blush of shame to your cheeks. Nay, I have seen a clergyman drunk in the -pulpit, and even in those freer days their laxity and immorality -were such that many flocked to hear the parsons of the Methodists and -Lutherans, whose simple and eloquent words and simpler lives were worthy -of their cloth. Small wonder was it, when every strolling adventurer and -soldier out of employment took orders and found favour in his Lordship's -eyes, and were given the fattest livings in place of worthier men, that -the Established Church fell somewhat into disrepute. Far be it from me -to say that there were not good men and true in that Church, but the wag -who writ this verse, which became a common saying in Maryland, was not -far wrong for the great body of them:-- - - "Who is a monster of the first renown? - A lettered sot, a drunkard in a gown." - -My grandfather did not replace Dr. Hilliard at the Hall, afterwards -saying the prayers himself. The doctor had been my tutor, and in spite -of my waywardness and lack of love for the classics had taught me -no little Latin and Greek, and early instilled into my mind those -principles necessary for the soul's salvation. I have often thought with -regret on the pranks I played him. More than once at lesson-time have I -gone off with Hugo and young Harvey for a rabbit hunt, stealing two dogs -from the pack, and thus committing a double offence. You may be sure -I was well thrashed by Mr. Carvel, who thought the more of the latter -misdoing, though obliged to emphasize the former. The doctor would never -raise his hand against me. His study, where I recited my daily tasks, -was that small sunny room on the water side of the east wing; and I well -recall him as he sat behind his desk of a morning after prayers, his -horn spectacles perched on his high nose and his quill over his ear, -and his ink-powder and pewter stand beside him. His face would grow more -serious as I scanned my Virgil in a faltering voice, and as he descanted -on a passage my eye would wander out over the green trees and fields to -the glistening water. What cared I for "Arma virumque" at such a time? I -was watching Nebo a-fishing beyond the point, and as he waded ashore -the burden on his shoulders had a much keener interest for me than that -AEneas carried out of Troy. - -My Uncle Grafton came to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, choosing this -opportunity to become reconciled to my grandfather, who he feared had -not much longer to live. Albeit Mr. Carvel was as stout and hale as -ever. None of the mourners at the doctor's grave showed more sorrow than -did Grafton. A thousand remembrances of the good old man returned to -him, and I heard him telling Mr. Carroll and some other gentlemen, with -much emotion, how he had loved his reverend preceptor, from whom he had -learned nothing but what was good. "How fortunate are you, Richard," -he once said, "to have had such a spiritual and intellectual teacher in -your youth. Would that Philip might have learned from such a one. And -I trust you can say, my lad, that you have made the best of your -advantages, though I fear you are of a wild nature, as your father was -before you." And my uncle sighed and crossed his hands behind his back. -"'Tis perhaps better that poor John is in his grave," he said. Grafton -had a word and a smile for every one about the old place, but little -else, being, as he said, but a younger son and a poor man. I was near -to forgetting the shilling he gave Scipio. 'Twas not so unostentatiously -done but that Mr. Carvel and I marked it. And afterwards I made Scipio -give me the coin, replacing it with another, and flung it as far into -the river as ever I could throw. - -As was but proper to show his sorrow at the death of the old chaplain he -had loved so much, Grafton came to the Hall drest entirely in black. He -would have had his lady and Philip, a lad near my own age, clad likewise -in sombre colours. But my Aunt Caroline would none of them, holding it -to be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks and -laces went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse, -and Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the family -travelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathed -in flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my aunt -descended like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth, -and kissed me effusively on both cheeks. - -"And this is dear Richard?" she cried. "Philip, come at once and greet -your cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels," she continued volubly, -"but more resembles his mother, as I recall her." - -"Indeed, madam," my grandfather answered somewhat testily, "he has -the Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He has -Elizabeth's eyes." - -But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and she -had already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. "The dear old -home?" she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regarding -lovingly each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly when -she came to the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, and -the Peter Lely over the broad fireplace. "What memories they must bring -to your mind, my dear," she remarks to her husband. "'Tis cruel, as I -once said to dear papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafters -we loved so well as children." And the good lady brushes away a tear -with her embroidered pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite of -us all. But she brightens instantly and smiles at the line of servants -drawn up to welcome them. "This is Scipio, my son, who was with your -grandfather when your father was born, and before." Master Philip nods -graciously in response to Scipio's delighted bow. "And Harvey," my -aunt rattles on. "Have you any new mares to surprise us with this year, -Harvey?" Harvey not being as overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescension -as was proper, she turns again to Mr. Carvel. - -"Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the old -house. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure." And she takes off -her gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here and -another there, and drawing back for the effect. "Such a bachelor's hall -as you are keeping!" - -"We still have Willis, Caroline," remonstrates my grandfather, gravely. -"I have no fault to find with her housekeeping." - -"Of course not, father; men never notice," Aunt Caroline replies in an -aggrieved tone. And when Willis herself comes in, auguring no good from -this visit, my aunt gives her the tips of her fingers. And I imagine I -see a spark fly between them. - -As for Grafton, he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones -between his father and himself. Aunt Caroline said with feeling that -Dr. Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought a -long-separated father and son together once more. Grafton had been -misjudged and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrel -had never been of his seeking,--a statement which Mr. Carvel was at no -pains to prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father's -every want. He read his Gazette to him of a Thursday, though the old -gentleman's eyes are as good as ever. If Mr. Carvel walks out of an -evening, Grafton's arm is ever ready, and my uncle and his worthy lady -are eager to take a hand at cards before supper. "Philip, my dear," -says my aunt, "thy grandfather's slippers," or, "Philip, my love, thy -grandfather's hat and cane." But it is plain that Master Philip has not -been brought up to wait on his elders. He is curled with a novel in his -grandfather's easy chair by the window. "There is Dio, mamma, who has -naught to do but serve grandpapa," says he, and gives a pull at the cord -over his head which rings the bell about the servants' ears in the hall -below. And Dio, the whites of his eyes showing, comes running into the -room. - -"It is nothing, Diomedes," says Mr. Carvel. "Master Philip will fetch -what I need.". Master Philip's papa and mamma stare at each other in -a surprise mingled with no little alarm, Master Philip being to all -appearances intent upon his book. - -"Philip," says my grandfather, gently. I had more than once heard him -speak thus, and well knew what was coming. - -"Sir," replies my cousin, without looking up. "Follow me, sir," said Mr. -Carvel, in a voice so different that Philip drops his book. They went up -the stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination. -But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel my -grandfather said quietly: "I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline." -And though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philip -another chance, he would never permit it. - -Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to his -grandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt had -poured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blue -and gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up. - -"Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerning -Richard's schooling?" - -"He shall go to King William's school in the autumn," Mr. Carvel -replied. - -"In the autumn!" cried my uncle. "I do not give Philip even the short -holiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day." - -"And can repeat the best passages," my aunt chimes in. "Philip, my dear, -recite that one your father so delights in." - -However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands, -he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enough -several lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parents -greatly and my grandfather not a little. - -"I will add a crown to your savings, Philip," says his father. - -"And here is a pistole to spend as you will," says Mr. Carvel, tossing -him the piece. - -"Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift," says -Grafton, taking the pistole himself. "I will place this token of your -appreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain in -the family, sir." And my uncle looks at me significantly. - -"Let it be as I say, Grafton," persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to be -balked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to my -father. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his father -to add the first to his saving if he would. - -"And Richard must have his chance," says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as -she rises to leave the room. - -"Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard," says my uncle, smiling. "Let us -hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's." - -My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly -the trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal to -my uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which -fitted the present case marvellously well. With little ceremony I tossed -back the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojans -against accepting the Grecian horse: - - "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes." - -"Egad," cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, "the lad bath beaten you on -your own ground, Grafton." And he laughed as my grandfather only could -laugh, until the dishes rattled on the table. But my uncle thought it no -matter for jesting. - -Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and could -discuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. He denounced -the seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easy -familiarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and 'twas easy to -perceive whence his knowledge sprang. But when my fine master spoke -disparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, my -grandfather's patience came to an end. - -"And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England, -Philip?" he asked. - -"Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies," retorts -Master Philip, readily enough. - -"Not so," Mr. Carvel said gravely. "She owes her greatness to her -merchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them. And commerce must -be at the backbone of every great nation. Tradesmen!" exclaimed my -grandfather. "Where would any of us be were it not for trade? We sell -our tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return. And your father -makes a deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of his -pittance." - -My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued: -"I know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to lay -aside the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none." - -"And 'twas well I learned then to be careful," said my uncle, losing -for the instant his control, "for you loved the spend-thrift best, and I -should be but a beggar now without my wisdom." - -"I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in him -which you lacked," answered Mr. Carvel. - -Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatred -was conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shuddered -to think that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For he -detested me threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father and -mother with the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip's -with my grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelings -that he was smiling again instantly. To see once, however, the white -belly of the shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient. - -"I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father," said Grafton. - -"God knows there was little jest in what I said," replied Mr. Carvell -soberly, "and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day know -you well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old, -that I am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can become -white save by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip," -the shrewd old gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, "do not let thy -father or any other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to every -question. I recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue, -despite what he says of your reading the public prints and of forming -your own opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthy -men and true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust method -of taxation." - -Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harvey -in particular, who had come from England early in the century with my -grandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle, -the old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. "Beware -of him as has no use for horses, Master Richard," he would say; for this -trait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. At -my uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster, -nor could he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence. -Harvey's face would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves as -he touched his cap. And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. He -vouchsafed but a curt reply to all her questions, nor did her raptures -over the stud soften him in the least. She would come tripping into the -stable yard, daintily holding up her skirts, and crying, "Oh, Harvey, -I have heard so much of Tanglefoot. I must see him before I go." -Tanglefoot is led out begrudgingly enough, and Aunt Caroline goes over -his points, missing the greater part of them, and remarking on the depth -of chest, which is nothing notable in Tanglefoot. Harvey winks slyly -at me the while, and never so much as offers a word of correction. "You -must take Philip to ride, Richard, my dear," says my aunt. "His father -was never as fond of it as I could have wished. I hold that every -gentleman should ride to hounds." - -"Humph!" grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the house. - -"Master Philip to hunt, indeed! Foxes to hunt foxes!" And he gives vent -to a dry laugh over his joke, in which I cannot but join. "Horsemen -grows. Eh, Master Richard? There was Captain Jack, who jumped from the -cradle into the saddle, and I never once seen a horse get the better -o' him. And that's God's truth." And he smooths out Tanglefoot's mane, -adding reflectively, "And you be just like him. But there was scarce a -horse in the stables what wouldn't lay back his ears at Mr. Grafton, and -small blame to 'em, say I. He never dared go near 'em. Oh, Master -Philip comes by it honestly enough. She thinks old Harvey don't know a -thoroughbred when he sees one, sir. But Mrs. Grafton's no thoroughbred; -I tell 'ee that, though I'm saying nothing as to her points, mark ye. -I've seen her sort in the old country, and I've seen 'em here, and it's -the same the world over, in Injy and Chiny, too. Fine trappings don't -make the horse, and they don't take thoroughbreds from a grocer's cart. -A Philadelphy grocer," sniffs this old aristocrat. "I'd knowed her -father was a grocer had I seen her in Pall Mall with a Royal Highness, -by her gait, I may say. Thy mother was a thoroughbred, Master Richard, -and I'll tell 'ee another," he goes on with a chuckle, "Mistress Dorothy -Manners is such another; you don't mistake 'em with their high heads -and patreeshan ways, though her father be one of them accidents as will -occur in every stock. She's one to tame, sir, and I don't envy no young -gentleman the task. But this I knows," says Harvey, not heeding my red -cheeks, "that Master Philip, with all his satin small-clothes, will -never do it." - -Indeed, it was no secret that my Aunt Caroline had been a Miss Flaven, -of Philadelphia, though she would have had the fashion of our province -to believe that she belonged to the Governor's set there; and she spoke -in terms of easy familiarity of the first families of her native city, -deceiving no one save herself, poor lady. How fondly do we believe, with -the ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked under -our wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs. -Grafton Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spices -and soap and glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertised -his cargoes in the public prints. He was a broad and charitable-minded -man enough, and unassuming, but gave way at last to the pressure brought -upon him by his wife and daughter, and bought a mansion in Front Street. -Terence Flaven never could be got to stay there save to sleep, and -preferred to spend his time in his shop, which was grown greatly, -chatting with his customers, and bowing the ladies to their chariots. -I need hardly say that this worthy man was on far better terms than -his family with those personages whose society they strove so hard to -attain. - -At the time of Miss Flaven's marriage to my uncle 'twas a piece of -gossip in every month that he had taken her for her dower, which was not -inconsiderable; though to hear Mr. and Mrs. Grafton talk they knew not -whence the next month's provender was to come. They went to live in Kent -County, as I have said, spending some winters in Philadelphia, where -Mr. Grafton was thought to have interests, though it never could be -discovered what his investments were. On hearing of his marriage, which -took place shortly before my father's, Mr. Carvel expressed neither -displeasure nor surprise. But he would not hear of my mother's request -to settle a portion upon his younger son. - -"He has the Kent estate, Bess," said he, "which is by far too good for -him. Never doubt but that the rogue can feather his own nest far better -than can I, as indeed he hath already done. And by the Lord," cried Mr. -Carvel, bringing his fist down upon the card-table where they sat, -"he shall never get another farthing of my money while I live, nor -afterwards, if I can help it! I would rather give it over to Mr. Carroll -to found a nunnery." - -And so that matter ended, for Mr. Carvel could not be moved from a -purpose he had once made. Nor would he make any advances whatsoever to -Grafton, or receive those hints which my uncle was forever dropping, -until at length he begged to be allowed to come to Dr. Hilliard's -funeral, a request my grandfather could not in decency refuse. 'Twas a -pathetic letter in truth, and served its purpose well, though it was not -as dust in the old gentleman's eyes. He called me into his bedroom and -told me that my Uncle Grafton was coming at last. And seeing that I -said nothing thereto, he gave me a queer look and bade me treat them as -civilly as I knew how. "I well know thy temper, Richard," said he, "and -I fear 'twill bring thee trouble enough in life. Try to control it, my -lad; take an old man's advice and try to control it." He was in one of -his gentler moods, and passed his arm about me, and together we stood -looking silently through the square panes out into the rain, at the -ducks paddling in the puddles until the darkness hid them. - -And God knows, lad that I was, I tried to be civil to them. But my -tongue rebelled at the very sight of my uncle ('twas bred into me, I -suppose), and his fairest words seemed to me to contain a hidden sting. -Once, when he spoke in his innuendo of my father, I ran from the room to -restrain some act of violence; I know not what I should have done. And -Willis found me in the deserted, study of the doctor, where my hot tears -had stained the flowered paper on the wall. She did her best to calm -me, good soul, though she had her own troubles with my Lady Caroline to -think about at the time. - -I had one experience with Master Philip before our visitors betook -themselves back to Kent, which, unfortunate as it was, I cannot but -relate here. My cousin would enter into none of those rough amusements -in which I passed my time, for fear, I took it, of spoiling his fine -broadcloths or of losing a gold buckle. He never could be got to -wrestle, though I challenged him more than once. And he was a well-built -lad, and might, with a little practice, have become skilled in that -sport. He laughed at the homespun I wore about the farm, saying it -was no costume for a gentleman's son, and begged me sneeringly to don -leather breeches. He would have none of the company of those lads with -whom I found pleasure, young Harvey, and Willis's son, who was being -trained as Mr. Starkie's assistant. Nor indeed did I disdain to join in -a game with Hugo, who had been given to me, and other negro lads. Philip -saw no sport in a wrestle or a fight between two of the boys from the -quarters, and marvelled that I could lower myself to bet with Harvey the -younger. He took not a spark of interest in the gaming cocks we raised -together to compete at the local contests and at the fair, and knew -not a gaff from a cockspur. Being one day at my wits' end to amuse -my cousin, I proposed to him a game of quoits on the green beside the -spring-house, and thither we repaired, followed by Hugo, and young -Harvey come to look on. Master Philip, not casting as well as he might, -cries out suddenly to Hugo: "Begone, you black dog! What business have -you here watching a game between gentlemen?" - -"He is my servant, cousin," I said quietly, "and no dog, if you please. -And he is under my orders, not yours." - -But Philip, having scarcely scored a point, was in a rage. "And I'll -not have him here," he shouted, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent him -stumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently: "Ever -since we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though my -father had no right in my grandfather's house." - -Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, and -remark: "'Tis all up with Master Philip now." But Philip, whatever else -he may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by the -time I had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I, -though not so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and many -more; having lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I was -able. To speak truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeing -that I could not knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and began -to study what I was doing. - -"Take off your macaroni coat," said I. "I have no wish to ruin your -clothes." - -But he only jeered in return: "Take off thy wool-sack." And Hugo, -getting to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that he -had meant no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he swore -a round oath at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at my -stomach, whereat Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was more -skilful at the science of boxing than I, though I was the better -fighter, having, I am sorry to say, fought but too often before. And -presently, when I had closed one of his eyes, his skill went all to -pieces, and he made a mad rush at me. As he went by I struck him so hard -that he fell heavily and lay motionless. - -Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent over -my cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and rejoiced -to find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. By -then, Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house, -and I saw my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as her -tight stays would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dear -Philip. And after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with all -the servants who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at the -thought that I should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she knelt -over Philip, pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousin -opened one of his eyes, and raised his hand to his head. - -"Thank Heaven he is not killed!" exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently. - -"Thank God, indeed!" echoes my uncle, and gives me a look as much as to -say that I am not to be thanked for it. "I have often warned you, sir," -he says to Mr. Carvel, "that we do not inherit from stocks and stones. -And so much has come of our charity." - -I knew, lad that I was; that he spoke of my mother; and my blood boiled -within me. - -"Have a care, sir, with your veiled insults," I cried, "or I will serve -you as I have served your son." - -Grafton threw up his hands. - -"What have we harboured, father?" says he. But Mr. Carvel seized him by -the shoulder. "Peace, Grafton, before the servants," he said, "and cease -thy crying, Caroline. The lad is not hurt." And being a tall man, six -feet in his stockings, and strong despite his age, he raised Philip from -the grass, and sternly bade him walk to the house, which he did, leaning -on his mother's arm. "As for you, Richard," my grandfather went on, "you -will go into my study." - -Into his study I went, where presently he came also, and I told him -the affair in as few words as I might. And he, knowing my hatred of -falsehood, questioned me not at all, but paced to and fro, I following -him with my eyes, and truly sorry that I had given him pain. And finally -he dismissed me, bidding me make it up with my cousin, which I was -nothing loth to do. What he said to Philip and his father I know not. -That evening we shook hands, though Philip's face was much swollen, and -my uncle smiled, and was even pleasanter than before, saying that boys -would be boys. But I think my Aunt Caroline could never wholly hide the -malice she bore me for what I had done that day. - -When at last the visitors were gone, every face on the plantation wore -a brighter look. Harvey said: "God bless their backs, which is the only -part I ever care to see of their honours." And Willis gave us a supper -fit for a king. Mr. Lloyd and his lady were with us, and Mr. Carvel told -his old stories of the time of the First George, many of which I can -even now repeat: how he and two other collegians fought half a dozen -Mohocks in Norfolk Street, and fairly beat them; and how he discovered -by chance a Jacobite refugee in Greenwich, and what came of it; nor did -he forget that oft-told episode with Dean Swift. And these he rehearsed -in such merry spirit and new guise that we scarce recognized them, and -Colonel Lloyd so choked with laughter that more than once he had to be -hit between the shoulders. - - - - -CHAPTER V. "IF LADIES BE BUT YOUNG AND FAIR" - -No boyhood could have been happier than mine, and throughout it, ever -present with me, were a shadow and a light. The shadow was my Uncle -Grafton. I know not what strange intuition of the child made me think -of him so constantly after that visit he paid us, but often I would wake -from my sleep with his name upon my lips, and a dread at my heart. The -light--need I say?--was Miss Dorothy Manners. Little Miss Dolly was -often at the Hall after that happy week we spent together; and her -home, Wilmot House, was scarce three miles across wood and field by our -plantation roads. I was a stout little fellow enough, and before I was -twelve I had learned to follow to hounds my grandfather's guests on my -pony; and Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Carvel when they shot on the duck points. -Ay, and what may surprise you, my dears, I was given a weak little -toddy off the noggin at night, while the gentlemen stretched their limbs -before the fire, or played at whist or loo Mr. Carvel would have no -milksop, so he said. But he early impressed upon me that moderation was -the mark of a true man, even as excess was that of a weak one. - -And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House -alone. There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at -games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark -by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom. About once in the week Mr. and Mrs. -Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall. She grew -quickly--so quickly that I scarce realized--into a tall slip of a girl, -who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or impudent, -in a breath. She had as many moods as the sea. I have heard her -entertain Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, -by the hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all -the same. Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho' -she gave me no reason whatever. I believe I had held my hand over fire -for her, at a word. And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me -wonder, now, that I was not killed. It used to please her, Ivie too, to -see me go the round of the windmill, tho' she would cry out after I left -the ground. And once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie -not there to prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown -at the bottom with such force that I lay stunned for a full minute. I -opened my eyes to find her bending over me with such a look of fright -and remorse upon her face as I shall never forget. Again, walking out on -the bowsprit of the 'Oriole' while she stood watching me from the dock, -I lost my balance and fell into the water. On another occasion I fought -Will Fotheringay, whose parents had come for a visit, because he dared -say he would marry her. - -"She is to marry an earl," I cried, tho' I had thrashed another lad for -saying so. "Mr. Manners is to take her home when she is grown, to marry -her to an earl." - -"At least she will not marry you, Master Richard," sneered Will. And -then I hit him. - -Indeed, even at that early day the girl's beauty was enough to make her -talked about. And that foolish little fop, her father, had more than -once declared before a company in our dining room that it was high time -another title came into his family, and that he meant to take Dolly -abroad when she was sixteen. Lad that I was, I would mark with pain the -blush on Mrs. Manners's cheek, and clinch my fists as she tried to pass -this off as a joke of her husband's. But Dolly, who sat next me at a -side table, would make a wry little face at my angry one. - -"You shall call me 'my lady,' Richard. And sometimes, if you are good, -you shall ride inside my coroneted coach when you come home." - -Ah, that was the worst of it! The vixen was conscious of her beauty. But -her airs were so natural that young and old bowed before her. Nothing -but worship had she had from the cradle. I would that Mr. Peale had -painted her in her girlhood as a type of our Maryland lady of quality. -Harvey was right when he called her a thoroughbred. Her nose was -of patrician straightness, and the curves of her mouth came from -generations of proud ancestors. And she had blue eyes to conquer and -subdue; with long lashes to hide them under when she chose, and black -hair with blue gloss upon it in the slanting lights. I believe I loved -her best in the riding-habit that was the colour of the red holly in our -Maryland woods. At Christmas-tide, when we came to the eastern shore, we -would gallop together through miles of country, the farmers and servants -tipping and staring after her as she laid her silver-handled whip upon -her pony. She knew not the meaning of fear, and would take a fence or a -ditch that a man might pause at. And so I fell into the habit of leading -her the easy way round, for dread that she would be hurt. - -How those Christmas times of childhood come sweeping back on my memory! -Often, and without warning, my grandfather would say to me: "Richard, -we shall celebrate at the Hall this year." And it rarely turned out that -arrangements had not been made with the Lloyds and the Bordleys and the -Manners, and other neighbours, to go to the country for the holidays. I -have no occasion in these pages to mention my intimacy with the sons and -daughters of those good friends of the Carvels', Colonel Lloyd and Mr. -Bordley. Some of them are dead now, and the rest can thank God and -look back upon worthy and useful lives. And if any of these, my old -playmates, could read this manuscript, perchance they might feel a -tingle of recollection of Children's Day, when Maryland was a province. -We rarely had snow; sometimes a crust upon the ground that was melted -into paste by the noonday sun, but more frequently, so it seems to me, a -foggy, drizzly Christmas, with the fires crackling in saloon and lady's -chamber. And when my grandfather and the ladies and gentlemen, his -guests, came down the curving stairs, there were the broadly smiling -servants drawn up in the wide hall,--all who could gather there,--and -the rest on the lawn outside, to wish "Merry Chris'mas" to "de quality." -The redemptioners in front, headed by Ivie and Jonas Tree, tho' they had -long served their terms, and with them old Harvey and his son; next the -house blacks and the outside liveries, and then the oldest slaves from -the quarters. This line reached the door, which Scipio would throw open -at "de quality's" appearance, disclosing the rest of the field servants, -in bright-coloured gowns, and the little negroes on the green. Then Mr. -Carvel would make them a little speech of thanks and of good-will, -and white-haired Johnson of the senior quarters, who had been with my -great-grandfather, would start the carol in a quaver. How clear and -sweet the melody of those negro voices comes back to me through -the generations! And the picture of the hall, loaded with holly and -mistletoe even to the great arch that spanned it, with the generous -bowls of egg-nog and punch on the mahogany by the wall! And the ladies -our guests, in cap and apron, joining in the swelling hymn; ay, and the -men, too. And then, after the breakfast of sweet ham and venison, and -hot bread and sausage, made under Mrs. Willis, and tea and coffee and -chocolate steaming in the silver, and ale for the gentlemen if they -preferred, came the prayers and more carols in the big drawing-room. -And then music in the big house, or perhaps a ride afield to greet the -neighbours, and fiddling and dancing in the two big quarters, Hank's and -Johnson's, when the tables were cleared after the bountiful feast Mr. -Carvel was wont to give them. There was no stint, my dears,--naught but -good cheer and praising God in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall. - -At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes -at Colonel Lloyd's or Mr. Bordley's, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for -my grandfather dearly loved the company of the young. He himself would -lead off the minuet,--save when once or twice his Excellency Governor -Sharpe chanced to be present,--and would draw his sword with the young -gallants that the ladies might pass under. And I have seen him join -merrily in the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the -company. That was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor. We sat -with the other children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery -with the tiny rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour -of the green myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and -perfume of the dancers. And when the beauty of the evening was led -out, Dolly would lean over the rail, and pout and smile by turns. The -mischievous little baggage could hardly wait for the conquering years to -come. - -They came soon enough, alack! The season Dorothy was fourteen, we had a -ball at the Hall the last day of the year. When she was that age she had -near arrived at her growth, and was full as tall as many young ladies -of twenty. I had cantered with her that morning from Wilmot House to Mr. -Lloyd's, and thence to Carvel Hall, where she was to stay to dinner. The -sun was shining warmly, and after young Harvey had taken our horses we -strayed through the house, where the servants were busy decorating, and -out into my grandfather's old English flower garden, and took the seat -by the sundial. I remember that it gave no shadow. We sat silent for -a while, Dorothy toying with old Knipe, lying at our feet, and humming -gayly the burden of a minuet. She had been flighty on the ride, with -scarce a word to say to me, for the prospect of the dance had gone to -her head. - -"Have you a new suit to wear to-night, to see the New Year in, Master -Sober?" she asked presently, looking up. "I am to wear a brocade that -came out this autumn from London, and papa says I look like a duchess -when I have my grandmother's pearls." - -"Always the ball!" cried I, slapping my boots in a temper. "Is it, then, -such a matter of importance? I am sure you have danced before--at my -birthdays in Marlboro' Street and at your own, and Will Fotheringay's, -and I know not how many others." - -"Of course," replies Dolly, sweetly; "but never with a real man. Boys -like you and Will and the Lloyds do not count. Dr. Courtenay is at -Wilmot House, and is coming to-night; and he has asked me out. Think of -it, Richard! Dr. Courtenay!" - -"A plague upon him! He is a fop!" - -"A fop!" exclaimed Dolly, her humour bettering as mine went down. "Oh, -no; you are jealous. He is more sought after than any gentleman at the -assemblies, and Miss Dulany vows his steps are ravishing. There's for -you, my lad! He may not be able to keep pace with you in the chase, but -he has writ the most delicate verses ever printed in Maryland, and no -other man in the colony can turn a compliment with his grace. Shall I -tell you more? He sat with me for over an hour last night, until mamma -sent me off to bed, and was very angry at you because I had engaged to -ride with you to-day." - -"And I suppose you wish you had stayed with him," I flung back, -hotly. "He had spun you a score of fine speeches and a hundred empty -compliments by now." - -"He had been better company than you, sir," she laughed provokingly. -"I never heard you turn a compliment in your life, and you are now -seventeen. What headway do you expect to make at the assemblies?" - -"None," I answered, rather sadly than otherwise. For she had touched me -upon a sore spot. "But if I cannot win a woman save by compliments," I -added, flaring up, "then may I pay a bachelor's tax!" - -My lady drew her whip across my knee. - -"You must tell us we are beautiful, Richard," said she, in another tone. - -"You have but to look in a pier-glass," I retorted. "And, besides, that -is not sufficient. You will want some rhyming couplet out of a mythology -before you are content." - -She laughed again. - -"Sir," answered she, "but you have wit, if you can but be got angry." - -She leaned over the dial's face, and began to draw the Latin numerals -with her finger. So arch, withal, that I forgot my ill-humour. - -"If you would but agree to stay angry for a day," she went on, in a low -tone, "perhaps--" - -"Perhaps?" - -"Perhaps you would be better company," said Dorothy. "You would surely -be more entertaining." - -"Dorothy, I love you," I said. - -"To be sure. I know that," she replied. "I think you have said that -before." - -I admitted it sadly. "But I should be a better husband than Dr. -Courtenay." - -"La!" cried she; "I am not thinking of husbands. I shall have a good -time, sir, I promise you, before I marry. And then I should never marry -you. You are much too rough, and too masterful. And you would require -obedience. I shall never obey any man. You would be too strict a master, -sir. I can see it with your dogs and your servants. And your friends, -too. For you thrash any boy who does not agree with you. I want no rough -squire for a husband. And then, you are a Whig. I could never marry -a Whig. You behaved disgracefully at King William's School last year. -Don't deny it!" - -"Deny it!" I cried warmly; "I would as soon deny that you are an arrant -flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one." - -"Yes, I shall have my fling," said the minx. "I shall begin to-night, -with you for an audience. I shall make the doctor look to himself. But -there is the dressing-bell." And as we went into the house, "I believe -my mother is a Whig, Richard. All the Brices are." - -"And yet you are a Tory?" - -"I am a loyalist," says my lady, tossing her head proudly; "and we are -one day to kiss her Majesty's hand, and tell her so. And if I were the -Queen," she finished in a flash, "I would teach you surly gentlemen not -to meddle." - -And she swept up the stairs so stately, that Scipio was moved to say -slyly: "Dem's de kind of ladies, Marse Richard, I jes dotes t' wait on!" - -Of the affair at King William's School I shall tell later. - -We had some dozen guests staying at the Hall for the ball. At dinner my -grandfather and the gentlemen twitted her, and laughed heartily at her -apt retorts, and even toasted her when she was gone. The ladies shook -their heads and nudged one another, and no doubt each of the mothers -had her notion of what she would do in Mrs. Manners's place. But when my -lady came down dressed for the ball in her pink brocade with the pearls -around her neck, fresh from the hands of Nester and those of her own -tremulous mammy, Mr. Carvel must needs go up to her and hold her at -arm's length in admiration, and then kiss her on both her cheeks. -Whereat she blushed right prettily. - -"Bless me!" says he; "and can this be Richard's little playmate grown? -Upon my word, Miss Dolly, you'll be the belle of the ball. Eh, Lloyd? -Bless me, bless me, you must not mind a kiss from an old man. The young -ones may have their turn after a while." He laughed as my grandfather -only could laugh, and turned to me, who had reddened to my forehead. -"And so, Richard, she has outstripped you, fair and square. You are only -an awkward lad, and she--why, i' faith, in two years she'll be beyond -my protection. Come, Miss Dolly," says he; "I'll show you the mistletoe, -that you may beware of it." - -And he led her off on his arm. "The old year and the new, gentlemen!" -he cried merrily, as he passed the door, with Dolly's mammy and Nester -simpering with pride on the landing. - -The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that -they were to stay the night. Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a -pillion behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress. -Mr. Bordley and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in -coach and four. With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured -coat and waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, -and pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes. How I envied him as he -descended the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with -the indifferent ease that was then the fashion. I fancied I saw his eyes -wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I -stood disconsolate before the fireplace. - -"Why, Richard, my lad," says he, "you are quite grown since I saw you. -And the little girl that was your playmate,--Miss Dolly, I mean,--has -outstripped me, egad. She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like -a rose that blooms in a night." - -I answered nothing at all. But I had given much to know whether my -stolid manner disconcerted him. Unconsciously I sought the bluff face -above the chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King -Charles's day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side. Dr. -Courtenay certainly caught the look. He opened his snuff-box, took a -pinch, turned on his heel, and sauntered off. - -"What did you say, Richard?" asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing, -for he had seen the incident. - -"I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing." - -"Faith, 'twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I -think," answered my friend. But he teased me a deal that night when -Dolly danced with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my -honours. My young lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a -minuet as well as any dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at -the thought of the prize slipping from my grasp. Now and then, in the -midst of a figure, she would shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say -that her pinions were strong now. But when it came to the country dances -my lady comes up to me ever so prettily and asks the favour. - -"Tis a monstrous state, indeed, when I have to beg you for a reel!" says -she. - -And so was I made happy. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. I FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE - -In the eighteenth century the march of public events was much more -eagerly followed than now by men and women of all stations, and even -children. Each citizen was ready, nay, forward, in taking an active part -in all political movements, and the children mimicked their elders. Old -William Farris read his news of a morning before he began the mending of -his watches, and by evening had so well digested them that he was primed -for discussion with Pryse, of the opposite persuasion, at the Rose and -Crown. Sol Mogg, the sexton of St. Anne's, had his beloved Gazette in -his pocket as he tolled the church bell of a Thursday, and would hold -forth on the rights and liberties of man with the carpenter who mended -the steeple. Mrs. Willard could talk of Grenville and Townshend as -knowingly as her husband, the rich factor, and Francie Willard made many -a speech to us younger Sons of Liberty on the steps of King William's -School. We younger sons, indeed, declared bitter war against the -mother-country long before our conservative old province ever dreamed of -secession. For Maryland was well pleased with his Lordship's government. - -I fear that I got at King William's School learning of a far different -sort than pleased my grandfather. In those days the school stood upon -the Stadt House hill near School Street, not having moved to its present -larger quarters. Mr. Isaac Daaken was then Master, and had under him -some eighty scholars. After all these years, Mr. Daaken stands before me -a prominent figure of the past in an ill-fitting suit of snuff colour. -How well I recall that schoolroom of a bright morning, the sun's rays -shot hither and thither, and split violet, green, and red by the bulging -glass panes of the windows. And by a strange irony it so chanced that -where the dominie sat--and he moved not the whole morning long save to -reach for his birches--the crimson ray would often rest on the end of -his long nose, and the word "rum" be passed tittering along the benches. -For some men are born to the mill, and others to the mitre, and still -others to the sceptre; but Mr. Daaken was born to the birch. His long, -lanky legs were made for striding after culprits, and his arms for -caning them. He taught, among other things, the classics, of course, -the English language grammatically, arithmetic in all its branches, -book-keeping in the Italian manner, and the elements of algebra, -geometry, and trigonometry with their applications to surveying and -navigation. He also wrote various sorts of hands, fearful and marvellous -to the uninitiated, with which he was wont to decorate my monthly -reports to my grandfather. I can shut my eyes and see now that wonderful -hyperbola in the C in Carvel, which, after travelling around the paper, -ended in intricate curves and a flourish which surely must have broken -the quill. - -The last day of every month would I fetch that scrolled note to Mr. -Carvel, and he laid it beside his plate until dinner was over. And then, -as sure as the sun rose that morning, my flogging would come before it -set. This done with, and another promised next month provided Mr. -Daaken wrote no better of me, my grandfather and I renewed our customary -footing of love and companionship. - -But Mr. Daaken, unwittingly or designedly, taught other things than -those I have mentioned above. And though I never once heard a word of -politics fall from his lips, his school shortly became known to all good -Tories as a nursery of conspiracy and sedition. There are other ways of -teaching besides preaching, and of that which the dominie taught best he -spoke not a word. He was credited, you may well believe, with calumnies -against King George, and once my Uncle Grafton and Mr. Dulany were for -clapping him in jail, avowing that he taught treason to the young. I can -account for the tone of King William's School in no other way than to -say that patriotism was in the very atmosphere, and seemed to exude -in some mysterious way from Mr. Daaken's person. And most of us became -infected with it. - -The dominie lived outside the town, in a lonely little hamlet on the -borders of the Spa. At two of the clock every afternoon he would dive -through School Street to the Coffee House, where the hostler would have -his bony mare saddled and waiting. Mr. Daaken by no chance ever entered -the tavern. I recall one bright day in April when I played truant and -had the temerity to go afishing on Spa Creek with Will Fotheringay, the -bass being plentiful there. We had royal sport of it that morning, and -two o'clock came and went with never a thought, you may be sure. And -presently I get a pull which bends my English rod near to double, and -in my excitement plunge waist deep into the water, Will crying out -directions from the shore, when suddenly the head of Mr. Daaken's mare -is thrust through the bushes, followed by Mr. Daaken himself. Will stood -stock still from fright, and I was for dropping my rod and cutting, when -I was arrested by the dominie calling out: - -"Have a care, Master Carvel; have a care, sir. You will lose him. Play -him, sir; let him run a bit." - -And down he leaps from his horse and into the water after me, -and together we landed a three-pound bass, thereby drenching his -snuff-coloured suit. When the big fish lay shining in the basket, the -dominie smiled grimly at William and me as we stood sheepishly by, and -without a word he drew his clasp knife and cut a stout switch from -the willow near, and then and there he gave us such a thrashing as we -remembered for many a day after. And we both had another when we reached -home. - -"Mr. Carvel," said Mr. Dulany to my grandfather, "I would strongly -counsel you to take Richard from that school. Pernicious doctrines, sir, -are in the air, and like diseases are early caught by the young. 'Twas -but yesterday I saw Richard at the head of a rabble of the sons of -riff-raff, in Green Street, and their treatment of Mr. Fairbrother hath -set the whole town by the ears." - -What Mr. Dulany had said was true. The lads of Mr. Fairbrother's school -being mostly of the unpopular party, we of King William's had organized -our cohorts and led them on to a signal victory. We fell upon the enemy -even as they were emerging from their stronghold, the schoolhouse, and -smote them hip and thigh, with the sheriff of Anne Arundel County a -laughing spectator. Some of the Tories (for such we were pleased to call -them) took refuge behind Mr. Fairbrother's skirts, who shook his cane -angrily enough, but without avail. Others of the Tory brood fought -stoutly, calling out: "God save the King!" and "Down with the traitors!" -On our side Francie Willard fell, and Archie Dennison raised a lump on -my head the size of a goose egg. But we fairly beat them, and afterwards -must needs attack the Tory dominie himself. He cried out lustily to the -sheriff and spectators, of whom there were many by this time, for help, -but got little but laughter for his effort. Young Lloyd and I, being -large lads for our age, fairly pinioned the screeching master, who -cried out that he was being murdered, and keeping his cane for a trophy, -thrust him bodily into his house of learning, turned the great key -upon him, and so left him. He made his escape by a window and sought -my grandfather in the Duke of Marlboro' Street as fast as ever his -indignant legs would carry him. - -Of his interview with Mr. Carvel I know nothing save that Scipio was -requested presently to show him the door, and conclude therefrom that -his language was but ill-chosen. Scipio's patrician blood was wont to -rise in the presence of those whom he deemed outside the pale of good -society, and I fear he ushered Mr. Fairbrother to the street with -little of that superior manner he used to the first families. As for Mr. -Daaken, I feel sure he was not ill-pleased at the discomfiture of his -rival, though it cost him five of his scholars. - -Our schoolboy battle, though lightly undertaken, was fraught with -no inconsiderable consequences for me. I was duly chided and soundly -whipped by my grandfather for the part I had played; but he was inclined -to pass the matter after that, and set it down to the desire for -fighting common to most boyish natures. And he would have gone no -farther than this had it not been that Mr. Green, of the Maryland -Gazette, could not refrain from printing the story in his paper. That -gentleman, being a stout Whig, took great delight in pointing out that -a grandson of Mr. Carvel was a ringleader in the affair. The story was -indeed laughable enough, and many a barrister's wig nodded over it at -the Coffee House that day. When I came home from school I found Scipio -beside my grandfather's empty seat in the dining-room, and I learned -that Mr. Carvel was in the garden with my Uncle Grafton and the Reverend -Bennett Allen, rector of St. Anne's. I well knew that something out of -the common was in the wind to disturb my grandfather's dinner. Into -the garden I went, and under the black walnut tree I beheld Mr. Carvel -pacing up and down in great unrest, his Gazette in his hand, while on -the bench sat my uncle and the rector of St. Anne's. So occupied was -each in his own thought that my coming was unperceived; and I paused in -my steps, seized suddenly by an instinctive dread, I know not of what. -The fear of Mr. Carvel's displeasure passed from my mind so that I cared -not how soundly he thrashed me, and my heart filled with a yearning, -born of the instant, for that simple and brave old gentleman. For the -lad is nearer to nature than the man, and the animal oft scents a danger -the master cannot see. I read plainly in Mr. Allen's handsome face, -flushed red with wine as it ever was, and in my Uncle Grafton's looks -a snare to which I knew my grandfather was blind. I never rightly -understood how it was that Mr. Carvel was deceived in Mr. Allen; -perchance the secret lay in his bold manner and in the appearance of -dignity and piety he wore as a cloak when on his guard. I caught my -breath sharply and took my way toward them, resolved to make as brave a -front as I might. It was my uncle, whose ear was ever open, that first -heard my footstep and turned upon me. - -"Here is Richard, now, father," he said. - -I gave him so square a look that he bent his head to the ground. My -grandfather stopped in his pacing and his eye rested upon me, in sorrow -rather than in anger, I thought. - -"Richard," he began, and paused. For the first time in my life I saw him -irresolute. He looked appealingly at the rector, who rose. Mr. Allen -was a man of good height and broad shoulders, with piercing black eyes, -reminding one more of the smallsword than aught else I can think of. And -he spoke solemnly, in a deep voice, as though from the pulpit. - -"I fear it is my duty, Richard, to say what Mr. Carvel cannot. It -grieves me to tell you, sir, that young as you are you have been guilty -of treason against the King, and of grave offence against his Lordship's -government. I cannot mitigate my words, sir. By your rashness, Richard, -and I pray it is such, you have brought grief to your grandfather in his -age, and ridicule and reproach upon a family whose loyalty has hitherto -been unstained." - -I scarce waited for him to finish. His pompous words stung me like the -lash of a whip, and I gave no heed to his cloth as I answered: - -"If I have grieved my grandfather, sir, I am heartily sorry, and will -answer to him for what I have done. And I would have you know, Mr. -Allen, that I am as able as any to care for the Carvel honour." - -I spoke with a vehemence, for the thought carried me beyond myself, -that this upstart parson his Lordship had but a year since sent among us -should question our family reputation. - -"Remember that Mr. Allen is of the Church, Richard," said my -grandfather, severely. - -"I fear he has little respect for Church or State, sir," Grafton put in. -"You are now reaping the fruits of your indulgence." - -I turned to my grandfather. - -"You are my protector, sir," I cried. "And if it please you to tell -me what I now stand accused of, I submit most dutifully to your -chastisement." - -"Very fair words, indeed, nephew Richard," said my uncle, "and I -draw from them that you have yet to hear of your beating an honest -schoolmaster without other provocation than that he was a loyal servant -to the King, and wantonly injuring the children of his school." He drew -from his pocket a copy of that Gazette Mr. Carvel held in his hand, and -added ironically: "Here, then, are news which will doubtless surprise -you, sir. And knowing you for a peaceful lad, never having entertained -such heresies as those with which it pleases Mr. Green to credit you, I -dare swear he has drawn on his imagination." - -I took the paper in amaze, not knowing why my grandfather, who had ever -been so jealous of others taking me to task, should permit the rector -and my uncle to chide me in his presence. The account was in the main -true enough, and made sad sport of Mr. Fairbrother. - -"Have I not been caned for this, sir?" said I to my grandfather. - -These words seemed to touch Mr. Carvel, and I saw a tear glisten in his -eye as he answered: - -"You have, Richard, and stoutly. But your uncle and Mr. Allen seem to -think that your offence warrants more than a caning, and to deem that -you have been actuated by bad principles rather than by boyish spirits." -He paused to steady his voice, and I realized then for the first time -how sacred he held allegiance to the King. "Tell me, my lad," said he, -"tell me, as you love God and the truth, whether they are right." - -For the moment I shrank from speaking, perceiving what a sad blow to -Mr. Carvel my words must be. And then I spoke up boldly, catching -the exulting sneer on my Uncle Grafton's face and the note of triumph -reflected in Mr. Allen's. - -"I have never deceived you, sir," I said, "and will not now hide from -you that I believe the colonies to have a just cause against his Majesty -and Parliament." The words came ready to my lips: "We are none the less -Englishmen because we claim the rights of Englishmen, and, saving your -presence, sir, are as loyal as those who do not. And if these principles -be bad," I added to my uncle, "then should we think with shame upon the -Magna Charta." - -My grandfather stood astonished at such a speech from me, whom he had -thought a lad yet without a formed knowledge of public affairs. But I -was, in fact, supersaturated with that of which I spoke, and could -have given my hearers many able Whig arguments to surprise them had the -season befitted. There was silence for a space after I had finished, and -then Mr. Carvel sank right heavily upon the bench. - -"A Carvel against the King!" was all he said. - -Had I been alone with him I should have cast myself at his feet, for it -hurt me sorely to see him so. As it was, I held my head high. - -"The Carvels ever did what they believed right, sir," I answered. "You -would not have me to go against my conscience?" - -To this he replied nothing. - -"The evil has been done, as I feared, father," said Grafton, presently; -"we must now seek for the remedy." - -"Let me question the lad," Mr. Allen softly interposed. "Tell me, -Richard, who has influenced you to this way of thinking?" - -I saw his ruse, and was not to be duped by it. - -"Men who have not feared to act bravely against oppression, sir," I -said. - -"Thank God," exclaimed my uncle, with fervour, "that I have been more -careful of Philip's associations, and that he has not caught in the -streets and taverns this noxious creed!" - -"There is no danger from Philip; he remembers his family name," said the -rector. - -"No," quoth Mr. Carvel, bitterly, "there is no danger from Philip. Like -his father, he will ever believe that which best serves him." - -Grafton, needless to say, did not pursue such an argument, but rising, -remarked that this deplorable affair had kept him long past his dinner -hour, and that his services were as ever at his father's disposal. He -refused to stay, though my grandfather pressed him of course, and with a -low bow of filial respect and duty and a single glance at the rector, -my uncle was gone. And then we walked slowly to the house and into the -dining room, Mr. Carvel leading the procession, and I an unwilling -rear, knowing that my fate would be decided between them. I thought Mr. -Allen's grace would never end, and the meal likewise; I ate but little, -while the two gentlemen discussed parish matters. And when at last -Scipio had retired, and the rector of St. Anne's sat sipping the old -Madeira, his countenance all gravity, but with a relish he could not -hide, my grandfather spoke up. And though he addressed himself to the -guest, I knew full well what he said was meant for me. - -"As you see, sir," said he, "I am sore perplexed and troubled. We -Carvels, Mr. Allen, have ever been stanch to Church and King. My -great-grandsire fought at Naseby and Marston Moor for Charles, and -suffered exile in his name. 'Twas love for King James that sent my -father hither, though he swore allegiance to Anne and the First George. -I can say with pride that he was no indifferent servant to either, -refusing honours from the Pretender in '15, when he chanced to be at -home. An oath is an oath, sir, and we have yet to be false to ours. And -the King, say I, should, next to God, be loved and loyally served by his -subjects. And so I have served this George, and his grandfather before -him, according to the talents which were given me." - -"And ably, sir, permit me to say," echoed the rector, heartily. Too -heartily, methought. And he carefully filled his pipe with choice leaf -out of Mr. Carvel's inlaid box. - -"Be that as it may, I have done my best, as we must all do. Pardon -me, sir, for speaking of myself. But I have brought up this lad from a -child, Mr. Allen," said Mr. Carvel, his words coming slowly, as if each -gave him pain, "and have striven to be an example to him in all things. -He has few of those faults which I most fear; God be thanked that he -loves the truth, for there is yet a chance of his correction. A chance, -said I?" he cried, his speech coming more rapid, "nay, he shall be -cured! I little thought, fool that I was, that he would get this pox. -His father fought and died for the King; and should trouble come, which -God forbid, to know that Richard stood against his Majesty would kill -me." - -"And well it might, Mr. Carvel," said the divine. He was for the -moment sobered, as weak men must be in the presence of those of strong -convictions. My grandfather had half risen in his chair, and the lines -of his smooth-shaven face deepened visibly with the pain of the feelings -to which he gave utterance. As for me, I was well-nigh swept away by a -bigness within me, and torn between love and duty, between pity and the -reason left me, and sadly tried to know whether my dear parent's life -and happiness should be weighed against what I felt to be right. I -strove to speak, but could say nothing. - -"He must be removed from the influences," the rector ventured, after a -halt. - -"That he must indeed," said my grandfather. "Why did I not send him to -Eton last fall? But it is hard, Mr. Allen, to part with the child of our -old age. I would take passage and go myself with him to-morrow were it -not for my duties in the Council." - -"Eton! I would have sooner, I believe, wrought by the side of any -rascally redemptioner in the iron mines of the Patapsco than have gone -to Eton. - -"But for the present, sir, I would counsel you to put the lad's studies -in the charge of some able and learned man, that his mind may be turned -from the disease which has fed upon it. Some one whose loyalty is beyond -question." - -"And who so fit as yourself, Mr. Allen?" returned my grandfather, relief -plain in his voice. "You have his Lordship's friendship and confidence, -and never has rector of St. Anne's or of any other parish brought -letters to his Excellency to compare with yours. And so I crave your -help in this time of need." - -Mr. Allen showed becoming hesitation. - -"I fear you do me greater honour than I deserve, Mr. Carvel," he -answered, a strain of the pomp coming back, "though my gracious patron -is disposed to think well of me, and I shall strive to hold his good -opinion. But I have duties of parish and glebe to attend, and Master -Philip Carvel likewise in my charge." - -I held my breath for my grandfather's reply. The rector, however, had -read him, and well knew that a show of reluctance would but inflame him -the more. - -"How now, sir?" he exclaimed. "Surely, as you love the King, you will -not refuse me in this strait." - -Mr. Allen rose and grasped him by the hand. - -"Nay, sir," said he, "and you put it thus, I cannot refuse you." - -The thought of it was too much. I ran to my grandfather crying: "Not -Mr. Allen, sir, not Mr. Allen. Any one else you please,--Mr. Fairbrother -even." - -The rector drew back haughtily. "It is clear, Mr. Carvel," he said, -"that Richard has other preferences." - -"And be damned to them!" shouted my grandfather. "Am I to be ruled by -this headstrong boy? He has beat Mr. Fairbrother, and shall have no -skimmed-milk supervision if I can help it." - -And so it was settled that I should be tutored by the rector of St. -Anne's, and I took my seat beside my cousin Philip in his study the very -next day. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE - -To add to my troubles my grandfather was shortly taken very ill with the -first severe sickness he had ever in his life endured. Dr. Leiden came -and went sometimes thrice daily, and for a week he bore a look so grave -as to frighten me. Dr. Evarts arrived by horse from Philadelphia, and -the two physicians held long conversations in the morning room, while I -listened at the door and comprehended not a word of their talk save when -they spoke of bleeding. And after a very few consultations, as is often -the way in their profession, they disagreed and quarrelled, and Dr. -Evarts packed himself back to Philadelphia in high dudgeon. Then Mr. -Carvel began to mend. - -There were many who came regularly to inquire of him, and each afternoon -I would see the broad shoulders and genial face of Governor Sharpe in -the gateway, completing his walk by way of Marlboro' Street. I loved and -admired him, for he had been a soldier himself before he came out to us, -and had known and esteemed my father. His Excellency should surely have -been knighted for his services in the French war. Once he spied me at -the window and shook his cane pleasantly, and in he walks to the room -where I sat reading of the victories of Blenheim and Malplaquet, for -chronicles of this sort I delighted in. - -"Aha, Richard," says he, taking up the book, "'tis plain whither your -tastes lead you. Marlboro was a great general, and as sorry a scoundrel -as ever led troops to battle. Truly," says he, musing, "the Lord often -makes queer choice in his instruments for good." And he lowered himself -into the easy chair and crossed his legs, regarding me very comically. -"What's this I hear of your joining the burghers and barristers, and -trouncing poor Mr. Fairbrother and his flock, and crying 'Liberty -forever!' in the very ears of the law?" he asks. "His Majesty will have -need of such lads as you, I make no doubt, and should such proceedings -come to his ears I would not give a pipe for your chances." - -I could not but laugh, confused as I was, at his Excellency's rally. And -this I may say, that had it pleased Providence to give me dealing -with such men of the King's side as he, perchance my fortunes had been -altered. - -"And in any good cause, sir," I replied, "I would willingly give my life -to his Majesty." - -"So," said his Excellency, raising his eyebrows, "I see clearly you are -of the rascals. But a lad must have his fancies, and when your age I was -hot for the exiled Prince. I acquired more sense as I grew older. And -better an active mind, say I, than a sluggard partisan." - -At this stage of our talk came in my Uncle Grafton, and bowing low to -the Governor made apology that some of the elders of the family had not -been there to entertain him. He told his Excellency that he had never -left the house save for necessary business, which was true for once, -my uncle having taken up his abode with us during that week. But now, -thanking Heaven and Dr. Leiden and his own poor effort, he could report -his dear father to be out of danger. - -Governor Sharpe answered shortly that he had been happy to hear the good -news from Scipio. "Faith," says he, "I was well enough entertained, for -I have a liking for this lad, and to speak truth I saw him here as I -came up the walk." - -My uncle smiled deprecatingly, and hid any vexation he might have had -from this remark. - -"I fear that Richard lacks wisdom as yet, your Excellency," said he, -"and has many of his father's headstrong qualities." - -"Which you most providentially escaped," his Excellency put in. - -Grafton bit his lip. "Necessity makes us all careful, sir," said he. - -"Necessity does more than that, Mr. Carvel," returned the Governor, who -was something of a wit; "necessity often makes us fools, if we be not -careful. But give me ever a wanton fool rather than him of necessity's -handiwork. And as for the lad," says he, "let him not trouble you. Such -as he, if twisted a little in the growth, come out straight enough in -the end." - -I think the Governor little knew what wormwood was this to my uncle. - -"'Tis heartily to be hoped, sir," he said, "for his folly has brought -trouble enough behind it to those who have his education and his welfare -in hand, and I make no doubt is at the bottom of my father's illness." - -At this injustice I could not but cry out, for all the town knew, and -my grandfather himself best of all, that the trouble from which he -now suffered sprang from his gout. And yet my heart was smitten at -the thought that I might have hastened or aggravated the attack. The -Governor rose. He seized his stick aggressively and looked sharply at -Grafton. - -"Nonsense," he exclaimed; "my friend Mr. Carvel is far too wise to be -upset by a boyish prank which deserves no notice save a caning. And -that, my lad," he added lightly, "I dare swear you got with interest." -And he called for a glass of the old Madeira when Scipio came with -the tray, and departed with a polite inquiry after my Aunt Caroline's -health, and a prophecy that Mr. Carvel would soon be taking the air -again. - -There had been high doings indeed in Marlboro' Street that miserable -week. My grandfather took to his bed of a Saturday afternoon, and bade -me go down to Mr. Aikman's, the bookseller, and fetch him the latest -books and plays. That night I became so alarmed that I sent Diomedes for -Dr. Leiden, who remained the night through. Sunday was well gone before -the news reached York Street, when my Aunt Caroline came hurrying over -in her chair, and my uncle on foot. They brushed past Scipio at the -door, and were pushing up the long flight when they were stopped on the -landing by Dr. Leiden. - -"How is my father, sir?" Grafton cried, "and why was I not informed at -once of his illness? I must see him." - -"Your vater can see no one, Mr. Carvel," said the doctor, quietly. - -"What," says my uncle, "you dare to refuse me?" - -"Not so lout, I bray you," says the doctor; "I tare any ting vere life -is concerned." - -"But I will see him," says Grafton, in a sort of helpless rage, for the -doctor's manner baffled him. "I will see him before he dies, and no man -alive shall say me nay." - -Then my Aunt Caroline gathered up her skirt, and made shift to pass the -doctor. - -"I have come to nurse him," said she, imperiously, and, turning to where -I stood near, she added: "Bid a servant fetch from York Street what I -shall have need of." - -The doctor smiled, but stood firm. He cared little for aught in heaven -or earth, did Dr. Leiden, and nothing whatever for Mr. and Mrs. Grafton -Carvel. - -"I peg you, matam, do not disturp yourself," said he. "Mr. Carvel is -aply attended by an excellent voman, Mrs. Villis, and he has no neet of -you." - -"What," cried my aunt; "this is too much, sir, that I am thrust out of -my father-in-law's house, and my place taken by a menial. That woman -able!" she fumed, dropping suddenly her cloak of dignity; "Mr. Carvel's -charity is all that keeps her here." - -Then my uncle drew himself up. "Dr. Leiden," says he, "kindly oblige me -by leaving my father's house, and consider your services here at an end. -And Richard," he goes on to me, "send my compliments to Dr. Drake, and -request him to come at once." - -I was stepping forward to say that I would do nothing of the kind, when -the doctor stopped me by a signal, as much as to say that the quarrel -was wide enough without me. He stood with his back against the great -arched window flooded with the yellow light of the setting sun, a little -black figure in high relief, with a face of parchment. And he took a -pinch of snuff before he spoke. - -"I am here py Mr. Carvel's orters, sir," said he, "and py tose alone -vill I leaf." - -And this is how the Chippendale piece was broke, which you, my children, -and especially Bess, admire so extravagantly. It stood that day behind -the doctor, and my uncle, making a violent move to get by, struck it, -and so it fell with a great crash lengthwise on the landing; and the -wonderful vases Mr. Carroll had given my grandfather rolled down the -stairs and lay crushed at the bottom. Withal he had spoken so quietly, -Dr. Leiden possessed a temper drawn from his Teutonic ancestors. With -his little face all puckered, he swore so roundly at my uncle in some -lingo he had got from his father,--High German or Low German,--I know -not what, that Grafton and his wife were glad enough to pick their -way amongst the broken bits of glass and china, to the hall again. -Dr. Leiden shook his fist at their retreating persons, saying that the -Sabbath was no day to do murder. - -I followed them with the pretence of picking up what was left of the -ornaments. What between anger against the doctor and Mrs. Willis, and -fright and chagrin at the fall of the Chippendale piece, my aunt was in -such a state of nervous flurry that she bade the ashy Scipio call her -chairmen, and vowed, in a trembling voice, she would never again enter -a house where that low-bred German was to be found. But my Uncle Grafton -was of a different nature. He deemed defeat but a postponement of the -object he wished to gain, and settled himself in the library with a -copy of "Miller on the Distinction of Ranks in Society." He appeared at -supper suave as ever, gravely concerned as to his father's health, which -formed the chief topic between us. He gave me to understand that he -would take the green room until the old gentleman was past danger. Not -a word, mind you, of Dr. Leiden, nor did my uncle express a wish to go -into the sick-room, from which even I was forbid. Nay, the next morning -he met the doctor in the hall and conversed with him at some length over -the case as though nothing had occurred between them. - -While my Uncle Grafton was in the house I had opportunity of marking -the intimacy which existed between him and the rector of St. Anne's. The -latter swung each evening the muffled knocker, and was ushered on tiptoe -across the polished floor to the library where my uncle sat in state. It -was often after supper before the rector left, and coming in upon them -once I found wine between them and empty decanters on the board, and -they fell silent as I passed the doorway. - -Our dear friend Captain Clapsaddle was away when my grandfather fell -sick, having been North for three months or more on some business known -to few. 'Twas generally supposed he went to Massachusetts to confer with -the patriots of that colony. Hearing the news as he rode into town, -he came booted and spurred to Marlboro' Street before going to his -lodgings. I ran out to meet him, and he threw his arms about me on the -street so that those who were passing smiled, for all knew the captain. -And Harvey, who always came to take the captain's horse, swore that he -was glad to see a friend of the family once again. I told the captain -very freely of my doings, and showed him the clipping from the Gazette, -which made him laugh heartily. But a shade came upon his face when I -rehearsed the scene we had with my uncle and Mr. Allen in the garden. - -"What," says he, "Mr. Carvel hath sent you to Mr. Allen on your uncle's -advice?" - -"No," I answered, "to do my uncle justice, he said not a word to Mr. -Carvel about it." - -The captain turned the subject. He asked me much concerning the rector -and what he taught me, and appeared but ill-pleased at that I had -to tell him. But he left me without so much as a word of comment or -counsel. For it was a principle with Captain Clapsaddle not to influence -in any way the minds of the young, and he would have deemed it unfair to -Mr. Carvel had he attempted to win my sympathies to his. Captain -Daniel was the first the old gentleman asked to see when visitors were -permitted him, and you may be sure the faithful soldier was below stairs -waiting for the summons. - -I was some three weeks with my new tutor, the rector, before my -grandfather's illness, and went back again as soon as he began to mend. -I was not altogether unhappy, owing to a certain grim pleasure I had -in debating with him, which I shall presently relate. There was much -to annoy and anger me, too. My cousin Philip was forever carping and -criticising my Greek and Latin, and it was impossible not to feel his -sneer at my back when I construed. He had pat replies ready to correct -me when called upon, and 'twas only out of consideration for Mr. Carvel -that I kept my hands from him when we were dismissed. - -I think the rector disliked Philip in his way as much as did I in mine. -The Reverend Bennett Allen, indeed, might have been a very good fellow -had Providence placed him in a different setting; he was one of those -whom his Excellency dubbed "fools from necessity." He should have been -born with a fortune, though I can think of none he would not have run -through in a year or so. But nature had given him aristocratic tastes, -with no other means toward their gratification than good looks, -convincing ways, and a certain bold, half-defiant manner, which went far -with his Lordship and those like him, who thought Mr. Allen excellent -good company. With the rector, as with too many others, holy orders were -but a means to an end. It was a sealed story what he had been before he -came to Governor Sharpe with Baltimore's directions to give him the best -in the colony. But our rakes and wits, and even our solid men, like -my grandfather, received him with open arms. He had ever a tale on his -tongue's end tempered to the ear of his listener. - -Who had most influenced my way of thinking, Mr. Allen had well demanded. -The gentleman was none other than Mr. Henry Swain, Patty's father. Of -her I shall speak later. He was a rising barrister and man of note among -our patriots, and member of the Lower House; a diffident man in public, -with dark, soulful eyes, and a wide, white brow, who had declined -a nomination to the Congress of '65. At his fireside, unknown to my -grandfather and to Mr. Allen, I had learned the true principles of -government. Before the House Mr. Swain spoke only under extraordinary -emotion, and then he gained every ear. He had been my friend since -childhood, but I never knew the meaning and the fire of oratory until -curiosity brought me to the gallery of the Assembly chamber in the Stadt -House, where the barrister was on his feet at the time. I well remember -the tingle in my chest as I looked and listened. And I went again and -again, until the House sat behind closed doors. - -And so, when Mr. Allen brought forth for my benefit those arguments of -the King's party which were deemed their strength, I would confront him -with Mr. Swain's logic. He had in me a tough subject for conversion. -I was put to very small pains to rout my instructor out of all his -positions, because indolence, and lack of interest in the question, and -contempt for the Americans, had made him neglect the study of it. And -Philip, who entered at first glibly enough at the rector's side, was -soon drawn into depths far beyond him. Many a time was Mr. Allen fain -to laugh at his blunders. I doubt not my cousin had the facts straight -enough when he rose from the breakfast table at home; but by the time he -reached the rectory they were shaken up like so many parts of a puzzle -in a bag, and past all straightening. - -The rector was especially bitter toward the good people of Boston Town, -whom he dubbed Puritan fanatics. To him Mr. Otis was but a meddling -fool, and Mr. Adams a traitor whose head only remained on his shoulders -by grace of the extreme clemency of his Majesty, which Mr. Allen was at -a loss to understand. When beaten in argument, he would laugh out some -sneer that would set my blood simmering. One morning he came in late for -the lesson, smelling strongly of wine, and bade us bring our books out -under the fruit trees in the garden. He threw back his gown and -tilted his cap, and lighting his pipe began to speak of that act of -Townshend's, passed but the year before, which afterwards proved the -King's folly and England's ruin. - -"Principle!" exclaimed my fine clergyman at length, blowing a great -whiff among the white blossoms. "Oons! your Americans worship his -Majesty stamped upon a golden coin. And though he saved their tills -from plunder from the French, the miserly rogues are loth to pay for the -service." - -I rose, and taking a guinea-piece from my pocket, held it up before him. - -"They care this much for gold, sir, and less for his Majesty, who cares -nothing for them," I said. And walking to the well near by, I dropped -the piece carelessly into the clear water. He was beside me before it -left my hand, and Philip also, in time to see the yellow coin edging -this way and that toward the bottom. The rector turned to me with a -smile of cynical amusement playing over his features. - -"Such a spirit has brought more than one brave fellow to Tyburn, Master -Carvel," he said. And then he added reflectively, "But if there were -more like you, we might well have cause for alarm." - - - - -Volume 2. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. OVER THE WALL - -Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted -power at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to -town Dr. Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies, -a request which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had -given his consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for -the days when she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor -contrived to see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was -forever at her house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen of -fashion like the doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but in -reality to see Miss Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be lingering -in the drawing-room in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in the -garden as Dr. Courtenay passed, and I got but scant attention indeed. I -was but an awkward lad, and an old playmate, with no novelty about me. - -"Why, Richard," she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or -sat at dinner in Prince George Street, "I know every twist and turn of -your nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir, -you are very tiresome." - -"You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I -walked the Oriole's bowsprit," I replied ruefully. - -"Why don't you make me jealous?" says she, stamping her foot. "A score -of pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,--Jennie and Bess -Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They -are actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said -I, 'if you will but rid me of him for a day, you shall have my lasting -gratitude.'" - -And she turned to the spinet and began a lively air. But the taunt -struck deeper than she had any notion of. That spring arrived out from -London on the Belle of the Wye a box of fine clothes my grandfather had -commanded for me from his own tailor; and a word from a maid of fifteen -did more to make me wear them than any amount of coaxing from Mr. Allen -and my Uncle Grafton. My uncle seemed in particular anxious that I -should make a good appearance, and reminded me that I should dress as -became the heir of the Carvel house. I took counsel with Patty Swain, -and then went to see Betty Tayloe, and the Fotheringay girls, and -the Dulany girls, near the Governor's. And (fie upon me!) I was not -ill-pleased with the brave appearance I made. I would show my mistress -how little I cared. But the worst of it was, the baggage seemed to -trouble less than I, and had the effrontery to tell me how happy she was -I had come out of my shell, and broken loose from her apron-strings. - -"Indeed, they would soon begin to think I meant to marry you, Richard," -says she at supper one Sunday before a tableful, and laughed with the -rest. - -"They do not credit you with such good sense, my dear," says her mother, -smiling kindly at me. - -And Dolly bit her lip, and did not join in that part of the merriment. - -I fled to Patty Swain for counsel, nor was it the first time in my life -I had done so. Some good women seem to have been put into this selfish -world to comfort and advise. After Prince George Street with its gilt -and marbles and stately hedged gardens, the low-beamed, vine-covered -house in the Duke of Gloucester Street was a home and a rest. In my eyes -there was not its equal in Annapolis for beauty within and without. Mr. -Swain had bought the dwelling from an aged man with a history, dead -some nine years back. Its furniture, for the most part, was of the -Restoration, of simple and massive oak blackened by age, which I ever -fancied better than the Frenchy baubles of tables and chairs with -spindle legs, and cabinets of glass and gold lacquer which were then -making their way into the fine mansions of our town. The house was full -of twists and turns, and steps up and down, and nooks and passages and -queer hiding-places which we children knew, and in parts queer leaded -windows of bulging glass set high in the wall, and older than the reign -of Hanover. Here was the shrine of cleanliness, whose high-priestess was -Patty herself. Her floors were like satin-wood, and her brasses lights -in themselves. She had come honestly enough by her gifts, her father -having married the daughter of an able townsman of Salem, in the -Massachusetts colony, when he had gone north after his first great -success in court. Now the poor lady sat in a padded armchair from -morning to night, beside the hearth in winter, and under the trees in -summer, by reason of a fall she had had. There she knitted all the day -long. Her placid face and quiet way come before me as I write. - -My friendship with Patty had begun early. One autumn day when I was a -little lad of eight or nine, my grandfather and I were driving back from -Whitehall in the big coach, when we spied a little maid of six by -the Severn's bank, with her apron full of chestnuts. She was trudging -bravely through the dead leaves toward the town. Mr. Carvel pulled -the cord to stop, and asked her name. "Patty Swain, and it please -your honour," the child answered, without fear. "So you are the -young barrister's daughter?" says he, smiling at something I did not -understand. She nodded. "And how is it you are so far from home, and -alone, my little one?" asked Mr. Carvel again. For some time he could -get nothing out of her; but at length she explained, with much coaxing, -that her big brother Tom had deserted her. My grandfather wished that -Tom were his brother, that he might be punished as he deserved. He -commanded young Harvey to lift the child into the coach, chestnuts -and all, and there she sat primly between us. She was not as pretty as -Dorothy, so I thought, but her clear gray eyes and simple ways impressed -me by their very honesty, as they did Mr. Carvel. What must he do but -drive her home to Green Street, where Mr. Swain then lived in a little -cottage. Mr. Carvel himself lifted her out and kissed her, and -handed her to her mother at the gate, who was vastly overcome by the -circumstance. The good lady had not then received that fall which made -her a cripple for life. "And will you not have my chestnuts, sir, for -your kindness?" says little Patty. Whereat my grandfather laughed and -kissed her again, for he loved children, and wished to know if she would -not be his daughter, and come to live in Marlboro' Street; and told the -story of Tom, for fear she would not. He was silent as we drove away, -and I knew he was thinking of my own mother at that age. - -Not long after this Mr. Swain bought the house in the Duke of Gloucester -Street. This, as you know, is back to back with Marlboro. To reach -Patty's garden I had but to climb the brick wall at the rear of our -grounds, and to make my way along the narrow green lane left there for -perhaps a hundred paces of a lad, to come to the gate in the wooden -paling. In return I used to hoist Patty over the wall, and we would play -at children's games under the fruit trees that skirted it. Some instinct -kept her away from the house. I often caught her gazing wistfully at its -wings and gables. She was not born to a mansion, so she said. - -"But your father is now rich," I objected. I had heard Captain Daniel -say so. "He may have a mansion of his own and he chooses. He can better -afford it than many who are in debt for the fine show they make." I was -but repeating gossip. - -"I should like to see the grand company come in, when your grandfather -has them to dine," said the girl. "Sometimes we have grand gentlemen -come to see father in their coaches, but they talk of nothing but -politics. We never have any fine ladies like--like your Aunt Caroline." - -I startled her by laughing derisively. - -"And I pray you never may, Patty," was all I said. - -I never told Dolly of my intimacy with the barrister's little girl over -the wall. This was not because I was ashamed of the friendship, but -arose from a fear-well-founded enough--that she would make sport of it. -At twelve Dolly had notions concerning the walks of life that most -other children never dream of. They were derived, of course, from Mr. -Marmaduke. But the day of reckoning arrived. Patty and I were romping -beside the back wall when suddenly a stiff little figure in a starched -frock appeared through the trees in the direction of the house, followed -by Master Will Fotheringay in his visiting clothes. I laugh now when I -think of that formal meeting between the two little ladies. There was -no time to hoist Miss Swain over the wall, or to drive Miss Manners back -upon the house. Patty stood blushing as though caught in a guilty act, -while she of the Generations came proudly on, Will sniggering behind -her. - -"Who is this, Richard?" asks Miss Manners, pointing a small forefinger. - -"Patty Swain, if you must know!" I cried, and added boylike: "And she is -just as good as you or me, and better." I was quite red in the face, -and angry because of it. "This is Dorothy Manners, Patty, and Will -Fotheringay." - -The moment was a pregnant one. But I was resolved to carry the matter -out with a bold front. "Will you join us at catch and swing?" I asked. - -Will promptly declared that he would join, for Patty was good to look -upon. Dolly glanced at her dress, tossed her head, and marched back -alone. - -"Oh, Richard!" cried Patty; "I shall never forgive myself! I have made -you quarrel with--" - -"His sweetheart," said Will, wickedly. - -"I don't care," said I. Which was not so. - -Patty felt no resentment for my miss's haughty conduct, but only a -tearful penitence for having been the cause of a strife between us. -Will's arguments and mine availed nothing. I must lift her over the -wall again, and she went home. When we reached the garden we found -Dolly seated beside her mother on my grandfather's bench, from which -stronghold our combined tactics were powerless to drag her. - -When Dolly was gone, I asked my grandfather in great indignation why -Patty did not play with the children I knew, with Dorothy and the -Fotheringays. He shook his head dubiously. "When you are older, Richard, -you will understand that our social ranks are cropped close. Mr. Swain -is an honest and an able man, though he believes in things I do not. -I hear he is becoming wealthy. And I have no doubt," the shrewd old -gentleman added, "that when Patty grows up she will be going to the -assemblies, though it was not so in my time." So liberal was he that -he used to laugh at my lifting her across the wall, and in his leisure -delight to listen to my accounts of her childish housekeeping. Her life -was indeed a contrast to Dorothy's. She had all the solid qualities that -my lady lacked in early years. And yet I never wavered in my liking -to the more brilliant and wayward of the two. The week before my next -birthday, when Mr. Carvel drew me to him and asked me what I wished for -a present that year, as was his custom, I said promptly: - -"I should like to have Patty Swain at my party, sir." - -"So you shall, my lad," he cried, taking his snuff and eying me -with pleasure. "I am glad to see, Richard, that you have none of Mr. -Marmaduke's nonsense about you. She is a good girl, i' faith, and more -of a lady now than many who call themselves such. And you shall have -your present to boot. Hark'ee, Daniel," said he to the captain; "if -the child comes to my house, the poll-parrots and follow-me-ups will be -wanting her, too." - -But the getting her to go was a matter of five days. For Patty was -sensitive, like her father, and dreaded a slight. Not so with Master -Tom, who must, needs be invited, too. He arrived half an hour ahead -of time, arrayed like Solomon, and without his sister! I had to go for -Patty, indeed, after the party had begun, and to get the key to the -wicket in the wall to take her in that way, so shy was she. My dear -grandfather showed her particular attention. And Miss Dolly herself, -being in the humour, taught her a minuet. - -After that she came to all my birthdays, and lost some of her shyness. -And was invited to other great houses, even as Mr. Carvel had predicted. -But her chief pleasure seemed ever her duty. Whether or no such -characters make them one and the same, who can tell? She became the -light of her father's house, and used even to copy out his briefs, at -which task I often found her of an evening. - -As for Tom, that graceless scamp, I never could stomach him. I wondered -then, as I have since, how he was the brother of such a sister. He could -scarce bide his time until Mr. Swain should have a coach and a seat in -the country with the gentry. "A barrister," quoth he, "is as good as any -one else. And if my father came out a redemptioner, and worked his way, -so had old Mr. Dulany. Our family at home was the equal of his." All of -which was true, and more. He would deride Patty for sewing and baking, -vowing that they had servants enough now to do the work twice over. She -bore with him with a patience to be marvelled at; and I could never get -it through my head why Mr. Swain indulged him, though he was the -elder, and his mother's favourite. Tom began to dress early. His open -admiration was Dr. Courtenay, his confessed hope to wear five-pound -ruffles and gold sword knots. He clung to Will Fotheringay with a -tenacity that became proverbial among us boys, and his boasts at King -William's School were his father's growing wealth and intimacy with the -great men of the province. - -As I grew older, I took the cue of political knowledge, as I have said, -from Mr. Swain rather than Captain Daniel, who would tell me nothing. I -fell into the habit of taking supper in Gloucester Street. The meal was -early there. And when the dishes were cleared away, and the barrister's -pipe lit, and Patty and her mother had got their sewing, he would talk -by the hour on the legality of our resistance to the King, and discuss -the march of affairs in England and the other colonies. He found me a -ready listener, and took pains to teach me clearly the right and wrong -of the situation. 'Twas his religion, even as loyalty to the King was my -grandfather's, and he did not think it wrong to spread it. He likewise -instilled into me in that way more of history than Mr. Allen had ever -taught me, using it to throw light upon this point or that. But I never -knew his true power and eloquence until I followed him to the Stadt -House. - -Patty was grown a girl of fifteen then, glowing with health, and had -ample good looks of her own. 'Tis odd enough that I did not fall in -love with her when Dolly began to use me so outrageously. But a lad of -eighteen is scarce a rational creature. I went and sat before my -oracle upon the vine-covered porch under the eaves, and poured out my -complaint. She laid down her needlework and laughed. - -"You silly boy," said she, "can't you see that she herself has -prescribed for you? She was right when she told you to show attention -to Jenny. And if you dangle about Miss Dolly now, you are in danger of -losing her. She knows it better than you." - -I had Jenny to ride the very next day. Result: my lady smiled on me more -sweetly than ever when I went to Prince George Street, and vowed Jenny -had never looked prettier than when she went past the house. This left -my victory in such considerable doubt that I climbed the back wall -forthwith in my new top-boots. - -"So you looked for her to be angry?" said Patty. - -"Most certainly," said I. - -"Unreasoning vanity!" she cried, for she knew how to speak plain. "By -your confession to me you have done this to please her, for she warned -you at the beginning it would please her. And now you complain of it. I -believe I know your Dorothy better than you." - -And so I got but little comfort out of Patty that time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. UNDER FALSE COLOURS - -And now I come to a circumstance in my life I would rather pass over -quickly. Had I steered the straight course of my impulse I need never -have deceived that dear gentleman whom I loved and honoured above any in -this world, and with whom I had always lived and dealt openly. After my -grandfather was pronounced to be mending, I went back to Mr. Allen until -such time as we should be able to go to the country. Philip no longer -shared my studies, his hours having been changed from morning to -afternoon. I thought nothing of this, being content with the rector's -explanation that my uncle had a task for Philip in the morning, now -that Mr. Carvel was better. And I was well content to be rid of Philip's -company. But as the days passed I began to mark an absence still -stranger. I had my Horace and my Ovid still: but the two hours from -eleven to one, which he was wont to give up to history and what he was -pleased to call instruction in loyalty, were filled with other matter. -Not a word now of politics from Mr. Allen. Not even a comment from him -concerning the spirited doings of our Assembly, with which the town -was ringing. That body had met but a while before, primed to act on the -circular drawn up by Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. The Governor's message -had not been so prompt as to forestall them, and I am occupied scarce -the time in the writing of this that it took our brave members to adopt -the petition to his Majesty and to pass resolutions of support to our -sister colony of the North. This being done, and a most tart reply -penned to his Excellency, they ended that sitting and passed in -procession to the Governor's mansion to deliver it, Mr. Speaker Lloyd -at their head, and a vast concourse of cheering people at their heels. -Shutters were barred on the Tory houses we passed. And though Mr. Allen -spied me in the crowd, he never mentioned the circumstance. More than -once I essayed to draw from him an opinion of Mr. Adams's petition, -which was deemed a work of great moderation and merit, and got nothing -but evasion from my tutor. That he had become suddenly an American in -principle I could not believe. At length I made bold to ask him why -our discussions were now omitted. He looked up from the new play he was -reading on the study lounge, with a glance of dark meaning I could not -fathom. - -"You are learning more than I can teach you in Gloucester Street, and at -the Stadt House," he said. - -In truth I was at a loss to understand his attitude until the day in -June my grandfather and I went to Carvel Hall. - -The old gentleman was weak still, so feeble that he had to be carried -to his barge in a chair, a vehicle he had ever held in scorn. But he -was cheerful, and his spirit remained the same as of old: but for that -spirit I believe he had never again risen from his bed in Marlboro' -Street. My uncle and the rector were among those who walked by his side -to the dock, and would have gone to the Hall with him had he permitted -them. He was kind enough to say that my arm was sufficient to lean on. - -What peace there was sitting once again under the rustling trees on the -lawn with the green river and the blue bay spread out before us, and -Scipio standing by with my grandfather's punch. Mr. Carvel would have me -rehearse again all that had passed in town and colony since his illness, -which I did with as much moderation as I was able. And as we talked he -reached out and took my hand, for I sat near him, and said: - -"Richard, I have heard tidings of you that gladden my heart, and they -have done more than Dr. Leiden's physic for this old frame of mine. I -well knew a Carvel could never go a wrong course, lad, and you least of -any." - -"Tidings, sir?" I said. - -"Ay, tidings," answered Mr. Carvel. Such a note of relief and gladness -there was in the words as I had not heard for months from him, and a -vague fear came upon me. - -"Scipio," he said merrily, "a punch for Mr. Richard." And when the glass -was brought my grandfather added: "May it be ever thus!" - -I drained the toast, not falling into his humour or comprehending his -reference, but dreading that aught I might say would disturb him, held -my peace. And yet my apprehension increased. He set down his glass and -continued: - -"I had no hope of this yet, Richard, for you were ever slow to change. -Your conversion does credit to Mr. Allen as well as to you. In short, -sir, the rector gives me an excellent good account of your studies, and -adds that the King hath gained another loyal servant, for which I thank -God." - -I have no words to write of my feelings then. My head swam and my hand -trembled on my grandfather's, and I saw dimly the old gentleman's face -aglow with joy and pride, and knew not what to say or do. The answer I -framed, alas, remained unspoken. From his own lips I had heard how -much the news had mended him, and for once I lacked the heart, nay, the -courage, to speak the truth. But Mr. Carvel took no heed of my silence, -setting it down to another cause. - -"And so, my son," he said, "there is no need of sending you to Eton next -fall. I am not much longer for this earth, and can ill spare you: and -Mr. Allen kindly consents to prepare you for Oxford." - -"Mr. Allen consents to that, sir?" I gasped. I think, could I have laid -hands on the rector then, I would have thrashed him, cloth and all, -within an inch of his life. - -And as if to crown my misery Mr. Carvel rose, and bearing heavily on my -shoulder led me to the stable where Harvey and one of the black grooms -stood in livery to receive us. Harvey held by the bridle a blooded bay -hunter, and her like could scarce be found in the colony. As she stood -arching her neck and pawing the ground, I all confusion and shame, my -grandfather said simply: - -"Richard, this is Firefly. I have got her for you from Mr. Randolph, of -Virginia, for you are now old enough to have a good mount of your own." - -All that night I lay awake, trying to sift some motive for Mr. Allen's -deceit. For the life of me I could see no farther than a desire to keep -me as his pupil, since he was well paid for his tuition. Still, the game -did not seem worth the candle. However, he was safe in his lie. Shrewd -rogue that he was, he well knew that I would not risk the attack a -disappointment might bring my grandfather. - -What troubled me most of all was the fear that Grafton had reaped the -advantage of the opportunity the illness gave him, and by his insidious -arts had worked himself back into the good graces of his father. You -must not draw from this, my dears, that I feared for the inheritance. -Praised be God, I never thought of that! But I came by nature to hate -and to fear my uncle, as I hated and feared the devil. I saw him with my -father's eyes, and with my mother's, and as my grandfather had seen him -in the old days when he was strong. Instinct and reason alike made me -loathe him. As the months passed, and letters in Grafton's scroll -hand came from the Kent estate or from Annapolis, my misgivings were -confirmed by odd remarks that dropped from Mr. Carvel's lips. At length -arrived the revelation itself. - -"I fear, Richard," he had said querulously, "I fear that all these years -I have done your uncle an injustice. Dear Elizabeth was wont to plead -for him before she died, but I would never listen to her. I was hearty -and strong then, and my heart was hard. And a remembrance of many things -was fresh in my mind." He paused for breath, as was his habit now. And -I said nothing. "But Grafton has striven to wipe out the past. Sickness -teaches us that we must condone, and not condemn. He has lived a -reputable life, and made the most of the little start I gave him. He -has supported his Majesty and my Lord in most trying times. And his -Excellency tells me that the coming governor, Eden, will surely reward -him with a seat in the Council." - -I thought of Governor Sharpe's biting words to Grafton. The Governor -knew my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council. - -"A son is a son, Richard," continued Mr. Carvel. "You will one day -find that out. Your uncle has atoned. He hath been faithful during my -illness, despite my cold treatment. And he hath convinced me that your -welfare is at his heart. I believe he is fond of you, my lad." - -No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel -should become blind to Grafton's hypocrisy; forget his attempts to -prevent my father's marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother's birth. -The agony it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception, -I shall not dwell upon. And the thought bursting within me remained -unspoken. - -I saw less of Dorothy then than I had in any summer of my life before. -In spite of Mrs. Manners, the chrysalis had burst into the butterfly, -and Wilmot House had never been so gay. It must be remembered that -there were times when young ladies made their entrance into the world at -sixteen, and for a beauty to be unmarried at twenty-two was rare indeed. -When I went to Wilmot House to dine, the table would be always full, and -Mr. Marmaduke simpering at the head of it, his air of importance doubled -by his reflected glory. - -"We see nothing of you, my lad," he would say; "you must not let these -young gallants get ahead of you. How does your grandfather? I must pay -my compliments to-morrow." - -Of gallants there were enough, to be sure. Dr. Courtenay, of course, -with a nosegay on his coat, striving to catch the beauty's eye. And Mr. -Worthington and Mr. Dulany, and Mr. Fitzhugh and Mr. Paca, and I -know not how many other young bachelors of birth and means. And Will -Fotheringay, who spent some of his time with me at the Hall. Silver and -China, with the Manners coat-of-arms, were laid out that had not seen -the light for many along day. And there were picnics, and sailing -parties, and dances galore, some of which I attended, but heard of more. -It seemed to me that my lady was tiring of the doctor's compliments, and -had transferred her fickle favour to young Mr. Fitzhugh, who was much -more worthy, by the way. As for me, I had troubles enough then, and had -become used in some sort to being shelved. - -One night in July,--'twas the very day Mr. Carvel had spoken to me of -Grafton,--I had ridden over to Wilmot House to supper. I had little -heart for going, but good Mrs. Manners herself had made me promise, and -I could: not break my word. I must have sat very silent and preoccupied -at the table, where all was wit and merriment. And more than once I saw -the laughter leave Dorothy's face, and caught her eyes upon; me with -such a look as set my beast throbbing. They would not meet my own, but -would turn away instantly. I was heavy indeed that night, and did -not follow the company into the ballroom, but made my excuses to Mrs. -Manners. - -The lawn lay bathed in moonlight; and as I picked, my way over it toward -the stables for Firefly, I paused to look back at the house aglow, with -light, the music of the fiddles and the sound of laughter floating out -of the open windows. Even as I gaped a white figure was framed in the -doorway, paused a moment on the low stone step, and then came on until -it stood beside me. - -"Are you not well, Richard?" - -"Yes, I am well," I answered. I scarcely knew my own voice. - -"Is your grandfather worse?" - -"No, Dorothy; he seems better to-day." - -She stood seemingly irresolute, her eyes new lifted, now falling before -mine. Her slender arms bare, save for the little puff at the shoulders; -her simple dress drawn a little above the waist, then falling straight -to the white slipper. How real the ecstasy of that moment, and the pain -of it! - -"Why do you not coarse over, as you used to?" she asked, in a low tone. - -"I am very busy," I replied evasively; "Mr. Carvel cannot attend to his -affairs." I longed to tell her the whole truth, but the words would not -come. - -"I hear you are managing the estate all alone," she said. - -"There is no one else to do it." - -"Richard," she cried, drawing closer; "you are in trouble. I--I have -seen it. You are so silent, and--and you seem to have become older. Tell -me, is it your Uncle Grafton?" - -So astonished was I at the question, and because she had divined so, -surely, that I did not answer. - -"Is it?" she asked again. - -"Yes," I said; "yes, in part." - -And then came voices calling from the house. They had missed her. - -"I am so sorry, Richard. I shall tell no one." - -She laid her hand ever so lightly upon mine and was gone. I stood -staring after her until she disappeared in the door. All the way home I -marvelled, my thoughts tumultuous, my hopes rising and falling. - -But when next I saw her, I thought she had forgotten. - -We had little company at the Hall that year, on account of Mr. Carvel. -And I had been busy indeed. I sought with all my might to master -a business for which I had but little taste, and my grandfather -complimented me, before the season was done, upon my management. I -was wont to ride that summer at four of a morning to canter beside -Mr. Starkie afield, and I came to know the yield of every patch to a -hogshead and the pound price to a farthing. I grew to understand as well -as another the methods of curing the leaf. And the wheat pest appearing -that year, I had the good fortune to discover some of the clusters in -the sheaves, and ground our oyster-shells in time to save the crop. Many -a long evening I spent on the wharves with old Stanwix, now toothless -and living on his pension, with my eye on the glow of his pipe and my -ear bent to his stories of the sea. It was his fancy that the gift of -prophecy had come to him with the years; and at times, when his look -would wander to the black rigging in the twilight, he would speak -strangely enough. - -"Faith, Mr. Richard," he would say; "tho' your father was a soldier -afore ye, ye were born to the deck of a ship-o'-war. Mark an old man's -words, sir." - -"Can you see the frigate, Stanwix?" I laughed once, when he had repeated -this with more than common solemnity. - -His reply rose above the singing of the locusts. - -"Ay, sir, that I can. But she's no frigate, sir. Devil knows what she -is. She looks like a big merchantman to me, such as I've seed in the -Injy trade, with a high poop in the old style. And her piercin's be not -like a frigate." He said this with a readiness to startle me, and little -enough superstition I had. A light was on his seared face, and his pipe -lay neglected on the boards. "Ay, sir, and there be a flag astern of her -never yet seed on earth, nor on the waters under the earth. The tide is -settin' in, the tide is settin' in." - -These were words to set me thinking. And many a time they came back to -me when the old man was laid away in the spot reserved for those who -sailed the seas for Mr. Carvel. - -Every week I drew up a report for my grandfather, and thus I strove by -shouldering labour and responsibility to ease my conscience of that load -which troubled it. For often, as we walked together through the yellow -fields of an evening, it had been on my tongue to confess the lie Mr. -Allen had led me into. But the sight of the old man, trembling and -tremulous, aged by a single stroke, his childlike trust in my strength -and beliefs, and above all his faith in a political creed which he nigh -deemed needful for the soul's salvation,--these things still held me -back. Was it worth while now, I asked myself, to disturb the peace of -that mind? - -Thus the summer wore on to early autumn. And one day I was standing -booted and spurred in the stables, Harvey putting the bridle upon -Firefly, when my boy Hugo comes running in. - -"Marse Dick!" he cries, "Marse Satan he come in the pinnace, and young -Marse Satan and Missis Satan, and Marse Satan's pastor!" - -"What the devil do you mean, Hugo?" - -"Young ebony's right, sir," chuckled Harvey; "'tis the devil and his -following." - -"Do you mean Mr. Grafton, fellow?" I demanded, the unwelcome truth -coming over me. - -"That he does," remarked Harvey, laconically. "You won't be wanting her -now, your honour?" - -"Hold my stirrup," I cried, for the news had put me in anger. "Hold my -stirrup, sirrah!" - -I believe I took Firefly the best of thirty miles that afternoon and -brought her back in the half-light, my saddle discoloured with her -sweat. I clanked into the hall like a captain of horse. The night was -sharp with the first touch of autumn, and a huge backlog lay on the -irons. Around it, in a comfortable half-circle sat our guests, Grafton -and Mr. Allen and Philip smoking and drinking for a whet against supper, -and Mrs. Grafton in my grandfather's chair. There was an easy air of -possession about the party of them that they had never before assumed, -and the sight made me rattle again, the big door behind me. - -"A surprise for you, my dear nephew," Grafton said gayly, "I'll, lay a -puncheon you did, not, expect us." - -Mr. Carvel woke with a start at the sound of the door and said -querulously, "Guests, my lord, and I have done my poor best to make them -welcome in your absence." - -The sense of change in him stung me. How different would his tone have -been a year ago! - -He tattooed with his cane, which was the sign he generally made when he -was ready for bed. Toward night his speech would hurt him. I assisted -him up, the stairs, my uncle taking his arm on the other side. And -together, with Diomedes help; we undressed him, Grafton talking in low -tomes the while: Since this was, an office I was wont to perform, my -temper was now overwhelming me. But I kept my month closed. At last -he had had the simple meal Dr. Leiden allowed him, his candles were -snuffed, and my uncle and I made our way to the hall together: There my -aunt and Mr. Allen were at picquet. - -"Supper is insupportably late," says she; with a yawn, and rings the -hand-bell. "Scipio," she cries, "why are we not served?" - -I took a stride forward. But my uncle raised a restraining hand. - -"Caroline, remember that this is not our house," says he, reprovingly. - -There fell a deep silence; the log cracking; and just then the door -swung on its hinges, and Mr. Starkie entered with the great bunch of -keys in his hand. - -"The buildings are all secure; Mr. Richard," he said. - -"Very good, Starkie," I replied. I turned to Scipio, standing by the -low-boy, his teeth, going like a castanet. - -"You may serve at the usual hour, Scipio," said I. - -Supper began stiff as a state banquet. My uncle was conciliatory, with -the manners of a Crichton. My aunt, not having come from generations of -silver and self-control, flatly in a bad humour. Mr. Allen talked -from force of habit, being used to pay in such kind for his meals. But -presently the madeira, warmed these two into a better spirit. I felt -that I had victory on my side, and was nothing loth to join them at -whist, Philip and I against the rector and my aunt, and won something -like two pounds apiece from them. Grafton made it a rule never to play. - -The next morning, when I returned from my inspection, I found the rector -and Philip had decamped with two of our choice horses, and that my uncle -and aunt had commanded the barge, and gone to Mr. Lloyd's. I sent for -Scipio. - -"Fore de Lawd, Marse Richard," he wailed, "'twan't Scipio's fault. Marse -Grafton is dry fambly!" This was Scipio's strongest argument. "I jes' -can't refuse one of de fambly, Marse Dick; and old Marse he say he too -old now for quarrellin'." - -I saw that resistance was useless. There was nothing for it but to bide -any time. And I busied myself with bills of cargo until I heard the -horses on the drive. Mr. Allen and Philip came swaggering in, flushed -with the exercise, and calling for punch, and I met them in the hall. - -"A word with you, Mr. Allen!" I called out. - -"A thousand, Mr. Richard, if you like," he said gayly, "as soon as this -thirst of mine be quenched." - -I waited while he drained two glasses, when he followed me into the -library, closing the door behind him. - -"Now, sir," I began, "though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual -adviser, I intend speaking plain. For I know you to be one of the -greatest rogues in the colony." - -I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me -through. But I had misjudged him. - -"Speak plain, by all means," he replied; "but first let me ask for some -tobacco." - -He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the -moment I was silent with sheer surprise. - -"You know I can't call you out," he went on, surrounding himself with -clouds of smoke, "a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I -doubt whether I should. I like you, Richard," said he. "You are -straight-spoken and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad -I should have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me -squirm for life's luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is -prime tobacco, Richard." - -He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous -admiration for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could -not help liking him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably -handsome, and his riding clothes were of the latest London cut. - -"Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you -practise?" I asked curiously. - -"No doubt," he answered carelessly; "but these are well enough, and -shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?" - -This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in -the interval. - -"I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions, -Mr. Allen," I said. "I am not of the King's party now, and never shall -be. And you know this better than another." - -"Those are strong words, Richard, my lad," said he, bringing his -eyebrows together. - -"They are true words," I retorted. "Why did you lie, I say?" - -He said nothing for a while, but his breath came heavily. - -"I will pass it, I will pass it," he said at length, "but, by God! it -is more than I have had to swallow in all my life before. Look at your -grandfather, sir!" he cried; "behold him on the very brink of the grave, -and ask me again why I lied to him! His hope of heaven is scarce less -sacred to him than his love of the King, and both are so tightly wrapped -about his heart that this knowledge of you would break it. Yes, break -his heart, I say" (and he got to his legs), "and you would kill him for -the sake of a boyish fancy!" - -I knew he was acting, as well as though he had climbed upon the table -and said it. And yet he had struck the very note of my own fears, and -hit upon the one reason why I had not confessed lung ago. - -"There is more you might have said, Mr. Allen," I remarked presently; -"you have a cause for keeping me under your instruction, and that is -behind all." - -He gave me a strange look. - -"You are too acute by far," said he; "your imagination runs with you. I -have said I like you, and I can teach you classics as well as another. -Is it not enough to admit that the money I get for your instruction -keeps me in champagne?" - -"No, it is not enough," I said stoutly. - -"Then you must guess again, my lad," he answered with a laugh, and left -the room with the easy grace that distinguished him. - -There was armed peace the rest of my uncle's visit. They departed on the -third day. My Aunt Caroline, when she was not at picquet with Mr. Allen -or quarrelling with Mrs. Willis or with Grafton himself, yawned without -cessation. She declared in one of her altercations with her lord and -master that she would lose her wits were they to remain another day, a -threat that did not seem to move Grafton greatly. Philip ever maintained -the right to pitch it on the side of his own convenience, and he chose -in this instance to come to the rescue of his dear mamma, and turned -the scales in her favour. He was pleased to characterize the Hall as -insupportable, and vowed that his clothes would be out of fashion -before they reached Rousby Hall, their next stopping-place. To do Philip -justice, he was more honest a rascal than his father, though I am of the -opinion that he had not the brain for great craft. And he had drawn from -his mother a love of baubles which kept his mind from scheming. He had -little to say to me, and I less to him. - -Grafton, as may be supposed, made me distinct advances before his -departure, perceiving the unwisdom of antagonizing me unnecessarily. -He had the imprudence once to ask of me the facts and figures of the -estate; and tho' 'twas skilfully done by contrasting his own crops in -Kent, you may be sure I was on my guard, and that he got nothing. - -I was near forgetting an incident of their visit which I afterwards had -good cause to remember. The morning of my talk with Mr. Allen I went to -the stables to see how he had used Cynthia, and found old Harvey wiping -her down, and rumbling the while like a crater. - -"What think you of the rector as a representative of heaven, Harvey?" I -asked. - -"Him a representative of heaven!" he snorted; "I've heard tell of rotten -boroughs, and I'm thinking Mr. Allen will be standing for one. What be -him and Mr. Grafton a-doing here, sir, plotting all kinds o' crime while -the old gentleman's nigh on his back?" - -"Plotting?" I said, catching at the word. - -"Ay, plotting," repeated Harvey, casting his cloth away; "murder and all -the crimes in the calendar, I take it. I hear him and Mr. Grafton among -the stalls this morning, and when they sees me they look like Knipe, -here, caught with a fowl." - -"And what were they saying?" I demanded. - -"Saying! God only knows their wickedness. I got the words 'Upper -Marlboro' and 'South River' and 'next voyage,' and that profligate -rector wanted to know as to how 'Griggs was reliable.'" - -I thought no more of it at the time, believing it to be some of the -small rascalities they were forever at. But that name of Griggs (why, -the powers only know) stuck in my mind to turn up again. - - - - -CHAPTER X. THE RED IN THE CARVEL BLOOD - -After that, when we went back to Annapolis for the winter, there was no -longer any disguise between my tutor and myself. I was not of a mind to -feign a situation that did not exist, nor to permit him to do so. I gave -him to understand that tho' I went to him for instruction, 'twas through -no fault of mine. That I would learn what I pleased and do what pleased -me. And the rector, a curse upon him, seemed well content with that; nor -could I come at his devil's reason far wanting me, save for the money, -as he had declared. There were days when he and I never touched a hook, -both being out of humour for study, when he told me yarns of Frederick -of Prussia and his giant guard, of Florence and of Venice, and of the -court of his Holiness of Rome. For he had drifted about the earth like a -log-end in the Atlantic, before his Lordship gave him his present berth. -We passed, too, whole mornings at picquet, I learning enough of Horace -to quote at the routs we both attended, but a deal more of kings and -deuces. And as I may add, that he got no more of my money than did I of -his. - -The wonder of it was that we never became friends. He was two men, this -rector of St. Anne's, half of him as lovable as any I ever encountered. -But trust him I never would, always meeting him on the middle ground; -and there were times, after his talks with Grafton, when his eyes were -like a cat's, and I was conscious of a sinister note in his dealing -which put me on my guard. - -You will say, my dears, that some change had come over me, that I was no -longer the same lad I have been telling you of. - -Those days were not these, yet I make no show of hiding or of -palliation. Was it Dorothy's conduct that drove me? Not wholly. A wild -red was ever in the Carvel blood, in Captain Jack, in Lionel, in the -ancestor of King Charles's day, who fought and bled and even gambled -for his king. And my grandfather knew this; he warned me, but he paid my -debts. And I thank Heaven he felt that my heart was right. - -I was grown now, certainly in stature. And having managed one of the -largest plantations in the province, I felt the man, as lads are wont -after their first responsibilities. I commanded my wine at the Coffee -House with the best of the bucks, and was made a member of the South -River and Jockey clubs. I wore the clothes that came out to me from -London, and vied in fashion with Dr. Courtenay and other macaronies. And -I drove a carriage of mine own, the Carvel arms emblazoned thereon, and -Hugo in the family livery. - -After a deal of thought upon the subject, I decided, for a while at -least, to show no political leanings at all. And this was easier of -accomplishment than you may believe, for at that time in Maryland Tory -and Whig were amiable enough, and the young gentlemen of the first -families dressed alike and talked alike at the parties they both -attended. The non-importation association had scarce made itself felt in -the dress of society. Gentlemen of degree discussed differences amicably -over their decanters. And only on such occasions as Mr. Hood's return, -and the procession of the Lower House through the streets, and the -arrival of the Good Intent, did high words arise among the quality. And -it was because class distinctions were so strongly marked that it took -so long to bring loyalists and patriots of high rank to the sword's -point. - -I found time to manage such business affairs of Mr. Carvel's as he could -not attend to himself. Grafton and his family dined in Marlboro' Street -twice in the week; my uncle's conduct toward me was the very soul of -consideration, and he compelled that likewise from his wife and his son. -So circumspect was he that he would have fooled one who knew him a -whit less than I. He questioned me closely upon my studies, and in my -grandfather's presence I was forced to answer. And when the rector came -to dine and read to Mr. Carvel, my uncle catechised him so searchingly -on my progress that he was pushed to the last source of his ingenuity -for replies. More than once was I tempted to blurt out the whole -wretched business, for I well understood there was some deep game -between him and Grafton. In my uncle's absence, my aunt never lost a -chance for an ill-natured remark upon Patty, whom she had seen that -winter at the assemblies and elsewhere. And she deplored the state our -people of fashion were coming to, that they allowed young girls without -family to attend their balls. - -"But we can expect little else, father," she would say to Mr. Carvel -nodding in his chair, "when some of our best families openly espouse the -pernicious doctrines of republicanism. They are gone half mad over that -Wilkes who should have been hung before this. Philip, dear, pour the -wine for your grandfather." - -Miss Patty had been well received. I took her to her first assembly, -where her simple and unassuming ways had made her an instant favourite; -and her face, which had the beauty of dignity and repose even so early -in life, gained her ample attention. I think she would have gone but -little had not her father laughed her out of some of her domesticity. -No longer at Sunday night supper in Gloucester Street was the guest seat -empty. There was more than one guest seat now, and the honest barrister -himself was the most pleased at the change. As I took my accustomed -place on the settle cushion,--Patty's first embroidery,--he would cry: - -"Heigho, Richard, our little Miss Prim hath become a belle. And I must -have another clerk now to copy out my briefs, and a housekeeper soon, i' -faith." - -Patty would never fail to flush up at the words, and run to perch on her -father's knee and put her hand over his mouth. - -"How can you, Mr. Swain?" says she; "how can you, when 'tis you and -mother, and Richard here, who make me go into the world? You know I -would a thousand times rather bake your cakes and clean your silver! But -you will not hear of it." - -"Fie!" says the barrister. "Listen to her, Richard! And yet she will fly -up the stairs to don a fine gown at the first rap of the knocker. Oh, -the wenches, the wenches! Are they not all alike, mother?" - -"They have changed none since I was a lass," replies the quiet invalid, -with a smile. "And you should know what I was, Henry." - -"I know!" cries he; "none better. Well I recall the salmon and white -your mother gave you before I came to Salem." He sighed and then laughed -at the recollection. "And when this strapping young Singleton comes, -Richard, 'twould do you good to be hiding there in that cupboard,--and -it would hold you,--and count the seconds until Miss Prim has her skirt -in her hand and her foot on the lower step. And yet how innocent is she -now before you and me." - -Here he would invariably be smothered. - -"Percy Singleton!" says Patty, with a fine scorn; "'twill be Mr. -Eglinton, the curate, next." - -"This I know," says her father, slapping me on the shoulder, "this I -know, that you are content to see Richard without primping." - -"But I have known Richard since I was six," says she. "Richard is one of -the family. There is no need of disguise from him." - -I thought, ruefully enough, that it seemed my fate to be one of the -family everywhere I went. - -And just then, as if in judgment, the gate snapped and the knocker -sounded, and Patty leaped down with a blush. "What said I say?" cries -the barrister. "I have not seen human nature in court for naught. Run, -now," says he, pinching her cheek as she stood hesitating whether to fly -or stay; "run and put on the new dress I have bought you. And Richard -and I will have a cup of ale in the study." - -The visitor chanced to be Will Fotheringay that time. He was not the -only one worn out with the mad chase in Prince George Street, and -preferred a quiet evening with a quiet beauty to the crowded lists of -Miss Manners. Will declared that the other gallants were fools over the -rare touch of blue in the black hair: give him Miss Swain's, quoth he, -lifting his glass,--hers was; the colour of a new sovereign. Will was -not, the only one. But I think Percy Singleton was the best of them all, -tho' Patty ridiculed him--every chance she got, and even to his face. -So will: the best-hearted and soberest of women play the coquette. -Singleton was rather a reserved young Englishman of four and twenty, -who owned a large estate in Talbot which he was laying out with great -success. Of a Whig family in the old country, he had been drawn to that -party in the new, and so, had made Mr. Swain's acquaintance. The next -step in his fortunes was to fall in love with Patty, which was natural -enough. Many a night that winter I walked with him from Gloucester -Street to the Coffee House, to sit an hour over, a battle. And there -Master Tom and Dr. Hamilton, and other gay macaronies would sometimes -join us. Singleton had a greater contempt for Tom than I, but bore with -him for his sister's sake. For Tom, in addition to his other follies, -was become an open loyalist, and never missed his Majesty's health, -though he knew no better than my Hugo the question at issue. 'Twas -not zeal for King George, however, that made him drunk at one of the -assemblies, and forced his sister to leave in the midst of a dance for -very shame. - -"Oh, Richard, is, there not something you can do?" she cried, when, I -had got her back in the little parlour in Gloucester Street; "father -has argued and, pleaded and threatened in vain. I thought,--I thought -perhaps you might help him." - -"I think I am not one to preach, or to boast," I replied soberly. - -"Yes," said she, looking grave; "I know you are wilder than you used to -be; that you play more than you ought, and higher than you ought." - -I was silent. - -"And I suspect at whose door it lies," said she. - -"'Tis in the blood, Patty," I answered. - -She glanced at me quickly. - -"I know you better than you think," she said. "But Tom has not your -excuse. And if he had only your faults I would say nothing. He does not -care for those he should, and he is forever in the green-room of the -theatre." - -I made haste to change the subject, and to give her what comfort I -might; for she was sobbing before she finished. And the next day I gave -Tom a round talking-to for having so little regard for his sister, the -hem of whose skirt he was not worthy to touch. He took it meekly enough, -with a barrel of pat excuses to come after. And he asked me to lend -him my phaeton, that he might go a-driving with Miss Crane, of the -theatrical company, to Round Bay! - -Meanwhile I saw Miss Manners more frequently than was good for my peace -of mind, and had my turn as her partner at the balls. But I could not -bring myself to take third or fourth rank in the army that attended her. -I, who had been her playmate, would not become her courtier. Besides, I -had not the wit. - -Was it strange that Dr. Courtenay should pride himself upon the -discovery of a new beauty? And in the Coffee House, and in every -drawing-room in town, prophesy for her a career of conquest such as few -could boast? She was already launched upon that career. And rumour -had it that Mr. Marmaduke was even then considering taking her home -to London, where the stage was larger and the triumph greater. Was it -surprising that the Gazette should contain a poem with the doctor's -well-known ear-marks upon it? It set the town a-wagging, and left no -room for doubt as to who had inspired it. - - "Sweet Pandora, tho' formed of Clay, - Was fairer than the Light of Day. - By Venus learned in Beauty's Arts, - And destined thus to conquer Hearts. - A Goddess of this Town, I ween, - Fair as Pandora, scarce Sixteen, - Is destined, e'en by Jove's Command, - To conquer all of Maryland. - Oh, Bachelors, play have a Care, - For She will all your Hearts ensnare." - -So it ran. I think, if dear Mrs. Manners could have had her way, Dolly -would have passed that year at a certain young ladies' school in New -York. But Mr. Marmaduke's pride in his daughter's beauty got the better -of her. The strut in his gait became more marked the day that poem -appeared, and he went to the Coffee House both morning and evening, -taking snuff to hide his emotions when Miss Manners was spoken of; and -he was perceived by many in Church Street arm in arm with Dr. Courtenay -himself. - -As you may have imagined before now, the doctor's profession was -leisure, not medicine. He had known ambition once, it was said, and with -reason, for he had studied surgery in Germany for the mere love of the -science. After which, making the grand tour in France and Italy, he had -taken up that art of being a gentleman in which men became so proficient -in my young days. He had learned to speak French like a Parisian, had -hobnobbed with wit and wickedness from Versailles to Rome, and then had -come back to Annapolis to set the fashions and to spend the fortune -his uncle lately had left him. He was our censor of beauty, and passed -judgment upon all young ladies as they stepped into the arena. To be -noticed by him meant success; to be honoured in the Gazette was to be -crowned at once a reigning belle. The chord of his approval once set -a-vibrating, all minor chords sang in harmony. And it was the doctor who -raised the first public toast to Miss Manners. Alas! I might have known -it would be so! - -But Miss Dorothy was not of a nature to remain dependent upon a censor's -favour. The minx deported herself like any London belle of experience, -as tho' she had known the world from her cradle. She was not to -be deceived by the face value of the ladies' praises, nor rebuffed -unmercifully by my Aunt Caroline, who had held the sceptre in the -absence of a younger aspirant. The first time these ladies clashed, -which was not long in coming, my aunt met with a wit as sharp again as -her own, and never afterwards essayed an open tilt. The homage of men -Dolly took as Caesar received tribute, as a matter of course. The doctor -himself rode to the races beside the Manners coach, leaning gallantly -over the door. My lady held court in her father's box, received -and dismissed, smiled and frowned, with Courtenay as her master of -ceremonies. Mr. Dulany was one of the presidents of the Jockey Club -that year, and his horse winning the honours he presented her with his -colours, scarlet and white, which she graciously wore. The doctor swore -he would import a horse the next season on the chance of the privilege. -My aunt was furious. I have never mentioned her beauty because I never -could see it. 'Twas a coarser type than attracted me. She was then not -greatly above six and thirty, appearing young for that age, and she knew -the value of lead in judicious quantity. At that meet gentlemen came to -her box only to tally of Miss Manners, to marvel that one so young could -have the 'bel air', to praise her beauty and addresse, or to remark -how well Mr. Durlany's red and white became her. With all of which Mrs. -Grafton was fain to agree, and must even excel, until her small stock of -patience was exhausted. To add to her chagrin my aunt lost a pretty -sum to the rector by Mr. Dulany's horse. I came upon her after the race -trying to coax her head-dress, through her coach door, Mr. Allen having -tight hold of her hand the while. - -"And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does: he?" I overheard her -saying: "I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay's motions. Were -he, to choose, a wench out of the King's passengers I'd warrant -our macaronies to compose odes to her eyebrows." And at that moment -perceiving me she added, "Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew? Miss -Dolly is the craze now, and will last about as long as another of the -doctor's whims. And then you shall have her to yourself." - -"A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline," I said. - -"Hoity-toity," returned my aunt, who had by then succeeded in getting -her head-gear safe within; "the fashion, yes until a prettier comes -along." - -"There is small danger of that for the present," I said, smiling: -"Surely you can find no fault with this choice!" - -"Gadzooks! If I were blind, sir, I think I might!" she cried -unguardedly. - -"I will not dispute that, Aunt Caroline," I answered. - -And as I rode off I heard her giving directions in no mild tone to the -coachman through Mr. Allen. - -Perchance you did not know, my dears, that Annapolis had the first -theatre in all the colonies. And if you care to search through the heap -of Maryland Gazettes in the garret, I make no doubt you will come across -this announcement for a certain night in the spring of the year 1769: - - By Permission of his Excellency, the Governor, - at the New Theatre in Annapolis, - by the American Company of Comedians, on Monday - next, being the 22nd of this Instant, will be performed - - ROMEO AND JULIET. - - (Romeo by a young Gentleman for his Diversion.) - Likewise the Farce called - - MISS IN HER TEENS. - - To begin precisely at Seven of the Clock. Tickets - to be had at the Printing Office. Box 10s. Pit 1s 6d. - No Person to be admitted behind the Scenes. - - -The gentleman to perform Romeo was none other than Dr. Courtenay -himself. He had a gentlemanly passion for the stage, as was the fashion -in those days, and had organized many private theatricals. The town was -in a ferment over the event, boxes being taken a week ahead. The doctor -himself writ the epilogue, to be recited by the beautiful Mrs. Hallam, -who had inspired him the year before to compose that famous poem -beginning: - - "Around her see the Graces play, - See Venus' Wanton doves, - And in her Eye's Pellucid Ray - See little Laughing Loves. - Ye gods! 'Tis Cytherea's Face." - - -You may find that likewise in Mr. Green's newspaper. - -The new theatre was finished in West Street that spring, the old one -having proven too small for our gay capital. 'Twas then the best in -the New World, the censor having pronounced it far above any provincial -playhouse he had seen abroad. The scenes were very fine, the boxes -carved and gilded in excellent good taste, and both pit and gallery -commodious. And we, too, had our "Fops' Alley," where our macaronies -ogled the fair and passed from box to box. - -For that night of nights when the doctor acted I received an invitation -from Dolly to Mr. Marmaduke's box, and to supper afterward in Prince -George Street. When I arrived, the playhouse was lit with myriad -candles,--to be snuffed save the footlights presently,--and the tiers -were all brilliant with the costumes of ladies and gentlemen. Miss -Tayloe and Miss Dulany were of our party, with Fitzhugh and Worthington, -and Mr. Manners for propriety. The little fop spent his evening, by the -way, in a box opposite, where my Aunt Caroline gabbled to him and Mr. -Allen during the whole performance. My lady got more looks than any in -the house. She always drew admiration; indeed, but there had been much -speculation of late whether she favoured Dr. Courtenay or Fitzhugh, and -some had it that the doctor's acting would decide between the two. - -When Romeo came upon the stage he was received with loud applause. -But my lady showed no interest,--not she, while the doctor fervently -recited, "Out of her favour, where I am in love." In the first orchard -scene, with the boldness of a practised lover, he almost ignored Mrs. -Hallam in the balcony. It seemed as though he cast his burning words and -languishing glances at my lady in the box, whereupon there was a deal of -nudging round about. Miss asked for her smelling salts, and declared the -place was stifling. But I think if the doctor had cherished a hope of -her affections he lost it when he arrived at the lines, "She speaks, -yet she says nothing." At that unhappy moment Miss Dorothy was deep in -conversation with Fitzhugh, the audible titter in the audience arousing -her. How she reddened when she perceived the faces turned her way! - -"What was it, Betty?" she demanded quickly. - -But Betty was not spiteful, and would not tell. Fitzhugh himself -explained, and to his sorrow, for during the rest of the evening she -would have nothing to do with him. Presently she turned to me. Glancing -upward to where Patty leaned on the rail between Will Fotheringay and -Singleton, she whispered: - -"I wonder you can sit here so quiet, Richard. You are showing a deal of -self-denial." - -"I am happy enough," I answered, surprised. - -"I hear you have a rival," says she. - -"I know I have a dozen," I answered. - -"I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway's fields but -yesterday," said Dolly, "and as they came out upon the road they looked -as guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm." - -Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head. I was -thrown all in a heap. - -"You need not be so disturbed," whispers my lady. "Singleton has a -crooked mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between -you. I adore her, Richard. I wish I had her sweet ways." - -"But," I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, "why should you -think me in love with Patty? I have never been accused of that before." - -"Oh, fie! You deny her?" says Dolly. "I did not think that of you, -Richard." - -"You should know better," I replied, with some bitterness. - -We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage, -whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And -though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me -through and through. - -"You do not care for Patty?" she whispered. And I thought a quiver of -earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her -breath fanned my cheek. - -"No," I said. "Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make -pretences?" - -She turned away. - -"But you," I said, bending to her ear, "is it Fitzhugh, Dorothy?" - -I heard her laugh softly. - -"No," said she, "I thought you might divine, sir." - -Was it possible? And yet she had played so much with me that I dared -not risk the fire. She had too many accomplished gallants at her feet -to think of Richard, who had no novelty and no wit. I sat still, barely -conscious of the rising and falling voices beyond the footlights, -feeling only her living presence at my side. She spoke not another word -until the playhouse servants had relighted the chandeliers, and Dr. -Courtenay came in, flushed with triumph, for his mead of praise. - -"And how went it, Miss Manners?" says he, very confident. - -"Why, you fell over the orchard wall, doctor," retorts my lady. "La! I -believe I could have climbed it better myself." - -And all he got was a hearty laugh for his pains, Mr. Marmaduke joining -in from the back of the box. And the story was at the Coffee House early -on the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. A FESTIVAL AND A PARTING - -My grandfather and I were seated at table together. It was early June, -the birds were singing in the garden, and the sweet odours of the -flowers were wafted into the room. - -"Richard," says he, when Scipio had poured his claret, "my illness -cheated you out of your festival last year. I dare swear you deem -yourself too old for birthdays now." - -I laughed. - -"So it is with lads," said Mr. Carvel; "they will rush into manhood as -heedless as you please. Take my counsel, boy, and remain young. Do not -cross the bridge before you have to. And I have been thinking that we -shall have your fete this year, albeit you are grown, and Miss Dolly is -the belle of the province. 'Tis like sunshine into my old heart to see -the lads and lasses again, and to hear the merry, merry fiddling. I will -have his new Excellency, who seems a good and a kindly man, and Lloyd -and Tilghman and Dulany and the rest, with their ladies, to sit with me. -And there will be plenty of punch and syllabub and sangaree, I warrant; -and tarts and jellies and custards, too, for the misses. Ring for Mrs. -Willis, my son." - -Willis came with her curtsey to the old gentleman, who gave his order -then and there. He never waited for a fancy of this kind to grow cold. - -"We shall all be children again, on that day, Mrs. Willis," says he. -"And I catch any old people about, they shall be thrust straight in the -town stocks, i' faith." - -Willis made another curtsey. - -"We missed it sorely, last year, please your honour," says she, and -departs smiling. - -"And you shall have your Patty Swain, Richard," Mr. Carvel continued. -"Do you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place -of a present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel. -And I love that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath -demureness and dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage -you are all mad over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too. I'll warrant -I'd teach his daughter loyalty in a day, and I had again your years and -your spirit!" - -I have but to close my eyes, and my fancy takes me back to that birthday -festival. Think of it, my dears! Near threescore years are gone -since then, when this old man you call grandfather, and some--bless -me!--great-grandfather, was a lusty lad like Comyn here. But his hand is -steady as he writes these words and his head clear, because he hath not -greatly disabused that life which God has given him. - -How can I, tho' her face and form are painted on my memory, tell you -what fair, pert Miss Dorothy was at that time'! Ay, I know what you -would say: that Sir Joshua's portrait hangs above, executed but the year -after, and hung at the second exhibition of the Royal Academy. As I look -upon it now, I say that no whit of its colour is overcharged. And there -is likewise Mr. Peale's portrait, done much later. I answer that these -great masters have accomplished what poor, human art can do. But Nature -hath given us a better picture. "Come hither, Bess! Yes, truly, you have -Dolly's hair, with the very gloss upon it. But fashions have changed, -my child, and that is not as Dolly wore it." Whereupon Bess goes to the -portrait, and presently comes back to give me a start. And then we go -hand in hand up the stairs of Calvert House even to the garret, where an -old cedar chest is laid away under the eaves. Bess, the minx, well knows -it, and takes out a prim little gown with the white fading yellow, and -white silk mits without fingers, and white stockings with clocks, and -a gauze cap, with wings and streamers, that sits saucily on the black -locks; and the lawn-embroidered apron; and such dainty, high-heeled -slippers with the pearls still a-glisten upon the buckles. Away she -flies to put them on. And then my heart gives a leap to see my Dorothy -back again,--back again as she was that June afternoon we went together -to my last birthday party, her girlish arms bare to the elbow, and the -lace about her slender throat. Yes, Bess hath the very tilt of her chin, -the regal grace of that slim figure, and the deep blue eyes. - -"Grandfather, dear, you are crushing the gown!" - -And so the fire is not yet gone out of this old frame. - -Ah, yes, there they are again, those unpaved streets of old Annapolis -arched with great trees on either side. And here is Dolly, holding her -skirt in one hand and her fan in the other, and I in a brave blue coat, -and pumps with gold buttons, and a cocked hat of the newest fashion. I -had met her leaning over the gate in Prince George Street. And, what -was strange for her, so deep in thought that she jumped when I spoke her -name. - -"Dorothy, I have come for you to walk to the party, as we used when we -were children." - -"As we used when we were children!" cried she. And flinging wide the -gate, stretched out her hand for me to take. "And you are eighteen years -to-day! It seems but last year when we skipped hand in hand to Marlboro' -Street with Mammy Lucy behind us. Are you coming, mammy?" she called. - -"Yes, mistis, I'se comin'," said a voice from behind the golden-rose -bushes, and out stepped Aunt Lucy in a new turban, making a curtsey to -me. "La, Marse Richard!" said she, "to think you'se growed to be a -fine gemman! 'Taint but t'other day you was kissin' Miss Dolly on de -plantation." - -"It seems longer than that to me, Aunt Lucy," I answered, laughing at -Dolly's blushes. - -"You have too good a memory, mammy," said my lady, withdrawing her -fingers from mine. - -"Bress you, honey! De ole woman doan't forgit some things." - -And she fell back to a respectful six paces. - -"Those were happy times," said Dorothy. Then the little sigh became a -laugh. "I mean to enjoy myself to-day, Richard. But I fear I shall not -see as much of you as I used. You are old enough to play the host, now." - -"You shall see as much as you will." - -"Where have you been of late, sir? In Gloucester Street?" - -"'Tis your own fault, Dolly. You are changeable as the sky,--to-day -sunny, and to-morrow cold. I am sure of my welcome in Gloucester -Street." - -She tripped a step as we turned the corner, and came closer to my side. - -"You must learn to take me as you find me, dear Richard. To-day I am in -a holiday humour." - -Some odd note in her tone troubled me, and I glanced at her quickly. She -was a constant wonder and puzzle to me. After that night at the theatre -my hopes had risen for the hundredth time, but I had gone to Prince -George Street on the morrow to meet another rebuff--and Fitzhugh. So I -had learned to interpret her by other means than words, and now her mood -seemed reckless rather than merry. - -"Are you not happy, Dolly?" I asked abruptly. - -She laughed. "What a silly question!" she said. "Why do you ask?" - -"Because I believe you are not." - -In surprise she looked up at me, and then down at the pearls upon her -satin slippers. - -"I am going with you to your birthday festival, Richard. Could we wish -for more? I am as happy as you." - -"That may well be, for I might be happier." - -Again her eyes met mine, and she hummed an air. So we came to the gate, -beside which stood Diomedes and Hugo in the family claret-red. A coach -was drawn up, and another behind it, and we went down the leafy walk in -the midst of a bevy of guests. - -We have no such places nowadays, my dears, as was my grandfather's. The -ground between the street and the brick wall in the rear was a great -stretch, as ample in acreage as many a small country-place we have in -these times. The house was on the high land in front, hedged in by old -trees, and thence you descended by stately tiers until you came to the -level which held the dancers. Beyond that, and lower still, a -lilied pond widened out of the sluggish brook with a cool and rustic -spring-house at one end. The spring-house was thatched, with windows -looking out upon the water. Long after, when I went to France, I was -reminded of the shy beauty of this part of my old home by the secluded -pond of the Little Trianon. So was it that King Louis's Versailles had -spread its influence a thousand leagues to our youthful continent. - -My grandfather sat in his great chair on the sward beside the fiddlers, -his old friends gathering around him, as in former years. - -"And this is the miss that hath already broken half the bachelor hearts -in town!" said he, gayly. "What was my prediction, Miss Dolly, when you -stepped your first dance at Carvel Hall?" - -"Indeed, you do me wrong, Mr. Carvel!" - -"And I were a buck, you would not break mine, I warrant, unless it were -tit for tat," said my grandfather; thereby putting me to more confusion -than Dolly, who laughed with the rest. - -"'Tis well to boast, Mr. Carvel, when we are out of the battle," cried -Mr. Lloyd. - -Dolly was carried off immediately, as I expected. The doctor and -Worthington and Fitzhugh were already there, and waiting. I stood by Mr. -Carvel's chair, receiving the guests, and presently came Mr. Swain and -Patty. - -"Heigho!" called Mr. Carvel, when he saw her; "here is the young lady -that hath my old affections. You are right welcome, Mr. Swain. Scipio, -another chair! 'Tis not over the wall any more, Miss Patty, with our -flowered India silk. But I vow I love you best with your etui." - -Patty, too, was carried off, for you may be sure that Will Fotheringay -and Singleton were standing on one foot and then the other, waiting for -Mr. Carvel to have done. Next arrived my aunt, in a wide calash and a -wider hoop, her stays laced so that she limped, and her hair wonderfully -and fearfully arranged by her Frenchman. Neither she nor Grafton was -slow to shower congratulations upon my grandfather and myself. Mr. -Marmaduke went through the ceremony after them. Dorothy's mother drew me -aside. As long as I could remember her face had been one that revealed a -life's disappointment. But to-day I thought it bore a trace of a deeper -anxiety. - -"How well I recall this day, eighteen years ago, Richard," she said. -"And how proud your dear mother was that she had given a son to Captain -Jack. She had prayed for a son. I hope you will always do your parents -credit, my dear boy. They were both dear, dear friends of mine." - -My Aunt Caroline's harsher voice interrupted her. - -"Gadzooks, ma'am!" she cried, as she approached us, "I have never in -my life laid eyes upon such beauty as your daughter's. You will have to -take her home, Mrs. Manners, to do her justice. You owe it her, ma'am. -Come, nephew, off with you, and head the minuet with Miss Dolly!" - -My grandfather was giving the word to the fiddlers. But whether a desire -to cross my aunt held me back, or a sense of duty to greet the guests -not already come, or a vague intuition of some impending news drawn from -Mrs. Manners and Dorothy, I know not. Mr. Fitzhugh was easily persuaded -to take my place, and presently I slipped unnoticed into a shaded -seat on the side of the upper terrace, whence I could see the changing -figures on the green. And I thought of the birthday festivals Dolly and -I had spent here, almost since we were of an age to walk. Wet June days, -when the broad wings of the house rang with the sound of silver laughter -and pattering feet, and echoed with music from the hall; and merry -June days, when the laughter rippled among the lilacs, and pansies and -poppies and sweet peas were outshone by bright gowns and brighter faces. -And then, as if to complete the picture of the past, my eye fell upon -our mammies modestly seated behind the group of older people, Aunt -Hester and Aunt Lucy, their honest, black faces aglow with such -unselfish enjoyment as they alone could feel. - -How easily I marked Dorothy among the throng! - -Other girls found it hard to compress the spirits of youth within the -dignity of a minuet, and thought of the childish romp of former years. -Not so my lady. Long afterwards I saw her lead a ball with the first -soldier and gentleman of the land, but on that Tuesday she carried -herself full as well, so well that his Excellency and the gentlemen -about him applauded heartily. As the strains died away and the couples -moved off among the privet-lined paths, I went slowly down the terrace. -Dorothy had come up to speak to her mother, Dr. Courtenay lingering -impatient at her side. And though her colour glowed deeper, and the wind -had loosed a wisp of her hair, she took his Excellency's compliments -undisturbed. Colonel Sharpe, our former governor, who now made his home -in the province, sat beside him. - -"Now where a-deuce were you, Richard?" said he. "You have missed as -pleasing a sight as comes to a man in a lifetime. Why were you not here -to see Miss Manners tread a minuet? My word! Terpsichore herself could -scarce have made it go better." - -"I saw the dance, sir, from a safe distance," I replied. - -"I'll warrant!" said he, laughing, while Dolly shot me a wayward glance -from under her long lashes. "I'll warrant your eyes were fast on her -from beginning to end. Come, sir, confess!" - -His big frame shook with the fun of it, for none in the colony could -be jollier than he on holiday occasions: and the group of ladies and -gentlemen beside him caught the infection, so that I was sore put to it. - -"Will your Excellency confess likewise?" I demanded. - -"So I will, Richard, and make patent to all the world that she hath the -remains of that shuttlecock, my heart." - -Up gets his Excellency (for so we still called him) and makes Dolly a -low reverence, kissing the tips of her white fingers. My lady drops a -mock curtsey in return. - -"Your Excellency can do no less than sue for a dance," drawled Dr. -Courtenay. - -"And no more, I fear, sir, not being so nimble as I once was. I resign -in your favour, doctor," said Colonel Sharpe. - -Dr. Courtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had -much to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been -governor of the province could command her. The music was just begun -again, and I making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was -brought up as suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips. - -"The dance belongs to Richard, doctor," she said. - -"Egad, Courtenay, there you have a buffer!" cried Colonel Sharpe, as -the much-discomfited doctor bowed with a very ill grace; while I, in no -small bewilderment, walked off with Dorothy. And a parting shot of the -delighted colonel brought the crimson to my face. Like the wind or April -weather was my lady, and her ways far beyond such a great simpleton as -I. - -"So I am ever forced to ask you to dance!" said Dolly. - -"What were you about, moping off alone, with a party in your honour, -sir?" - -"I was watching you, as I told his Excellency." - -"Oh, fie!" she cried. "Why don't you assert yourself, Richard? There was -a time when you gave me no peace." - -"And then you rebuked me for dangling," I retorted. - -Up started the music, the fiddlers bending over their bows with flushed -faces, having dipped into the cool punch in the interval. Away flung -my lady to meet Singleton, while I swung Patty, who squeezed my hand in -return. And soon we were in the heat of it,--sober minuet no longer, but -romp and riot, the screams of the lasses a-mingle with our own laughter, -as we spun them until they were dizzy. My brain was a-whirl as well, and -presently I awoke to find Dolly pinching my arm. - -"Have you forgotten me, Richard?" she whispered. "My other hand, sir. It -is I down the middle." - -Down we flew between the laughing lines, Dolly tripping with her head -high, and then back under the clasped hands in the midst of a fire -of raillery. Then the music stopped. Some strange exhilaration was in -Dorothy. - -"Do you remember the place where I used to play fairy godmother, and -wind the flowers into my hair?" said she. - -What need to ask? - -"Come!" she commanded decisively. - -"With all my heart!" I exclaimed, wondering at this new caprice. - -"If we can but slip away unnoticed, they will never find us there," she -said. And led the way herself, silent. At length we came to the damp -shade where the brook dived under the corner of the wall. I stooped to -gather the lilies of the valley, and she wove them into her hair as of -old. Suddenly she stopped, the bunch poised in her hand. - -"Would you miss me if I went away, Richard?" she asked, in a low voice. - -"What do you mean, Dolly?" I cried, my voice failing. "Just that," said -she. - -"I would miss you, and sorely, tho' you give me trouble enough." - -"Soon I shall not be here to trouble you, Richard. Papa has decided that -we sail next week, on the Annapolis, for home." - -"Home!" I gasped. "England?" - -"I am going to make my bow to royalty," replied she, dropping a deep -curtsey. "Your Majesty, this is Miss Manners, of the province of -Maryland!" - -"But next week!" I repeated, with a blank face. "Surely you cannot be -ready for the Annapolis!" - -"McAndrews has instructions to send our things after," said she. "There! -You are the first person I have told. You should feel honoured, sir." - -I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap -of life seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. -Through the trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness -far away. When I looked up again, she was gazing into the water. - -"Are you glad to go?" I asked. - -"Of course," answered the minx, readily. "I shall see the world, and -meet people of consequence." - -"So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!" I cried -bitterly. - -"How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we -here? The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth! -There is not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and -Virginia is scarce better provided." - -"In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that -she had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself. - -"All in good time," said I. "We shall have no lack of noted men -presently." - -"Mere two-penny heroes," she retorted. "I know your great men, such as -Mr. Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams." - -I began pulling up the grass savagely by the roots. - -"I'll lay a hundred guineas you have no regrets at leaving any of us, my -fine miss!" I cried, getting to my feet. "You would rather be a lady of -fashion than have the love of an honest man,--you who have the hearts of -too many as it is." - -Her eyes lighted, but with mirth. Laughing, she chose a little bunch of -the lilies and worked them into my coat. - -"Richard, you silly goose!" she said; "I dote upon seeing you in a -temper." - -I stood between anger and God knows what other feelings, now starting -away, now coming back to her. But I always came back. - -"You have ever said you would marry an earl, Dolly," I said sadly. "I -believe you do not care for any of us one little bit." - -She turned away, so that for the moment I could not see her face, then -looked at me with exquisite archness over her shoulder. The low tones of -her voice were of a richness indescribable. 'Twas seldom she made use of -them. - -"You will be coming to Oxford, Richard." - -"I fear not, Dolly," I replied soberly. "I fear not, now. Mr. Carvel is -too feeble for me to leave him." - -At that she turned to me, another mood coming like a gust of wind on the -Chesapeake. - -"Oh, how I wish they were all like you!" she cried, with a stamp of her -foot. "Sometimes I despise gallantry. I hate the smooth compliments of -your macaronies. I thank Heaven you are big and honest and clumsy and--" - -"And what, Dorothy?" I asked, bewildered. - -"And stupid," said she. "Now take me back, sir." - -We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice -singing: - - "'It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino.'" - -And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. - - -And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why -not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me -pacing the deserted dock. At my back, across the open space, was the -irregular line of quaint, top-heavy shops since passed away, their -sightless windows barred by solid shutters of oak. The good ship -Annapolis, which was to carry my playmate to broader scenes, lay among -the shipping, in the gray roads just quickening with returning light. -How my heart ached that morning none shall ever know. But, as the sun -shot a burning line across the water, a new salt breeze sprang up and -fanned a hope into flame. 'Twas the very breeze that was to blow Dorothy -down the bay. Sleepy apprentices took down the shutters, and polished -the windows until they shone again; and chipper Mr. Denton Jacques, who -did such a thriving business opposite, presently appeared to wish me a -bright good morning. - -I knew that Captain Waring proposed to sail at ten of the clock; but -after breakfasting, I was of two minds whether to see the last of Miss -Dorothy, foreseeing a levee in her honour upon the ship. And so it -proved. I had scarce set out in a pungy from the dock, when I perceived -a dozen boats about the packet; and when I thrust my shoulders through -the gangway, there was the company gathered at the mainmast. They made -a gay bit of colour,--Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine -Mechlin, Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the -other gentlemen as smartly drest. The Dulany girls and the Fotheringay -girls, and I know not how many others, were there to see their friend -off for home. - -In the midst of them was Dorothy, in a crimson silk capuchin, for we -had had one of our changes of weather. It was she who spied me as I was -drawing down the ladder again. - -"It is Richard!" I heard her cry. "He has come at last." - -I gripped the rope tightly, sprang to the deck, and faced her as she -came out of the group, her lips parted, and the red of her cheeks vying -with the hood she wore. I took her hand silently. - -"I had given you over, Richard," she said, her eyes looking -reproachfully into mine. "Another ten minutes, and I should not have -seen you." - -Indeed, the topsails were already off the caps, the captain on deck, and -the men gathered at the capstan. - -"Have you not enough to wish you good-by, Dolly?" I asked. - -"There must be a score of them," said my lady, making a face. "But I -wish to talk to you." - -Mr. Marmaduke, however, had no notion of allowing a gathering in his -daughter's honour to be broken up. It had been wickedly said of him, -when the news of his coming departure got around, that he feared Dorothy -would fall in love with some provincial beau before he could get her -within reach of a title. When he observed me talking to her, he hurried -away from the friends come to see his wife (he had none himself), -and seizing me by the arm implored me to take good care of my dear -grandfather, and to write them occasionally of the state of his health, -and likewise how I fared. - -"I think Dorothy will miss you more than any of them, Richard," said he. -"Will you not, my dear?" - -But she was gone. I, too, left him without ceremony, to speak to Mrs. -Manners, who was standing apart, looking shoreward. She started when I -spoke, and I saw that tears were in her eyes. - -"Are you coming back soon, Mrs. Manners?" I asked. - -"Oh, Richard! I don't know," she answered, with a little choke in her -voice. "I hope it will be no longer than a year, for we are leaving all -we hold dear for a very doubtful pleasure." - -She bade me write to them, as Mr. Marmaduke had, only she was sincere. -Then the mate came, with his hand to his cap, respectfully to inform -visitors that the anchor was up and down. Albeit my spirits were low, -'twas no small entertainment to watch the doctor and his rivals at their -adieus. Courtenay had at his command an hundred subterfuges to outwit -his fellows, and so manoeuvred that he was the last of them over the -side. As for me, luckily, I was not worth a thought. But as the doctor -leaned over her hand, I vowed in my heart that if Dorothy was to be -gained only in such a way I would not stoop to it. And in my heart I -doubted it. I heard Dr. Courtenay hint, looking meaningly at her cloak, -that some of his flowers would not have appeared amiss there. - -"Why, doctor," says my lady aloud, with a side glance at me, "the wisdom -of Solomon might not choose out of twenty baskets." - -And this was all the thanks he got for near a boat-load of roses! When -at length the impatient mate had hurried him off, Dolly turned to me. It -was not in me to say more than: - -"Good-by, Dorothy. And do not forget your old playmate. He will never -forget you." - -We stood within the gangway. With a quick movement she threw open her -cloak, and pinned to her gown I saw a faded bunch of lilies of the -valley. - -I had but the time to press her hand. The boatswain's pipe whistled, and -the big ship was already sliding in the water as I leaped into my pungy, -which Hugo was holding to the ladder. We pulled off to where the others -waited. - -But the Annapolis sailed away down the bay, and never another glimpse we -caught of my lady. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY - -If perchance, my dears, there creeps into this chronicle too much of an -old man's heart, I know he will be forgiven. What life ever worth living -has been without its tender attachment? Because, forsooth, my hair is -white now, does Bess flatter herself I do not know her secret? Or does -Comyn believe that these old eyes can see no farther than the spectacles -before them? Were it not for the lovers, my son, satins and broadcloths -had never been invented. And were it not for the lovers, what joys and -sorrows would we lack in our lives! - -That was a long summer indeed. And tho' Wilmot House was closed, I often -rode over of a morning when the dew was on the grass. It cheered me to -smoke a pipe with old McAndrews, Mr. Manners's factor, who loved to talk -of Miss Dorothy near as much as I. He had served her grandfather, and -people said that had it not been for McAndrews, the Manners fortune had -long since been scattered, since Mr. Marmaduke knew nothing of anything -that he should. I could not hear from my lady until near the first of -October, and so I was fain to be content with memories--memories and -hard work. For I had complete charge of the plantation now. - -My Uncle Grafton came twice or thrice, but without his family, Aunt -Caroline and Philip having declared their independence. My uncle's -manner to me was now of studied kindness, and he was at greater pains -than before to give me no excuse for offence. I had little to say to -him. He spent his visits reading to Mr. Carvel, who sat in his chair all -the day long. Mr. Allen came likewise, to perform the same office. - -My contempt for the rector was grown more than ever. On my grandfather's -account, however, I refrained from quarrelling with him. And, when we -were alone, my plain speaking did not seem to anger him, or affect -him in any way. Others came, too. Such was the affection Mr. Carvel's -friends bore him that they did not desert him when he was no longer -the companion he had been in former years. We had more company than the -summer before. - -In the autumn a strange thing happened. When we had taken my grandfather -to the Hall in June, his dotage seemed to settle upon him. He became a -trembling old man, at times so peevish that we were obliged to summon -with an effort what he had been. He was suspicious and fault-finding -with Scipio and the other servants, though they were never so busy for -his wants. Mrs. Willis's dainties were often untouched, and he would -frequently sit for hours between slumber and waking, or mumble to -himself as I read the prints. But about the time of the equinoctial a -great gale came out of the south so strongly that the water rose in -the river over the boat landing; and the roof was torn from one of the -curing-sheds. The next morning dawned clear, and brittle, and blue. To -my great surprise, Mr. Carvel sent for me to walk with him about the -place, that he might see the damage with his own eyes. A huge walnut had -fallen across the drive, and when he came upon it he stopped abruptly. - -"Old friend!" he cried, "have you succumbed? After all these years have -you dropped from the weight of a blow?" He passed his hand caressingly -along the trunk, and scarce ever had I seen him so affected. In truth, -for the instant I thought him deranged. He raised his cane above his -shoulder and struck the bark so heavily that the silver head sunk deep -into the wood. "Look you, Richard," he said, the water coming into his -eyes, "look you, the heart of it is gone, lad; and when the heart is -rotten 'tis time for us to go. That walnut was a life friend, my son. -We have grown together," he continued, turning from me to the giant and -brushing his cheeks, "but by God's good will we shall not die so, for my -heart is still as young as the days when you were sprouting." - -And he walked back to the house more briskly than he had come, refusing, -for the first time, my arm. And from that day, I say, he began to mend. -The lacing of red came again to his cheeks, and before we went back to -town he had walked with me to Master Dingley's tavern on the highroad, -and back. - -We moved into Marlboro' Street the first part of November. I had seen my -lady off for England, wearing my faded flowers, the panniers of the fine -gentleman in a neglected pile at her cabin door. But not once had she -deigned to write me. It was McAndrews who told me of her safe arrival. -In Annapolis rumours were a-flying of conquests she had already made. I -found Betty Tayloe had had a letter, filled with the fashion in caps and -gowns, and the mention of more than one noble name. All of this being, -for unknown reasons, sacred, I was read only part of the postscript, in -which I figured: "The London Season was done almost before we arrived," -so it ran. "We had but the Opportunity to pay our Humble Respects to -their Majesties; and appear at a few Drum-Majors and Garden Fetes. Now -we are off to Brighthelmstone, and thence, so Papa says, to Spa and the -Continent until the end of January. I am pining for news of Maryland, -dearest Betty. Address me in care of Mr. Ripley, Barrister, of Lincoln's -Inn, and bid Richard Carvel write me." - -"Which does not look as if she were coming back within the year," said -Betty, as she poured me a dish of tea. - -Alas, no! But I did not write. I tried and failed. And then I tried to -forget. I was constant at all the gayeties, gave every miss in town a -share of my attention, rode to hounds once a week at Whitehall or the -South River Club with a dozen young beauties. But cantering through the -winter mists 'twas Dolly, in her red riding-cloak and white beaver, I -saw beside me. None of them had her seat in the saddle, and none of them -her light hand on the reins. And tho' they lacked not fire and skill, -they had not my lady's dash and daring to follow over field and fallow, -stream and searing, and be in at the death with heightened colour, but -never a look away. - -Then came the first assembly of the year. I got back from Bentley Manor, -where I had been a-visiting the Fotheringays, just in time to call for -Patty in Gloucester Street. - -"Have you heard the news from abroad, Richard?" she asked, as I handed -her into my chariot. - -"Never a line," I replied. - -"Pho!" exclaimed Patty; "you tell me that! Where have you been hiding? -Then you shall not have it from me." - -I had little trouble, however, in persuading her. For news was a rare -luxury in those days, and Patty was plainly uncomfortable until she -should have it out. - -"I would not give you the vapours to-night for all the world, Richard," -she exclaimed. "But if you must,--Dr. Courtenay has had a letter from -Mr. Manners, who says that Dolly is to marry his Grace of Chartersea. -There now!" - -"And I am not greatly disturbed," I answered, with a fine, careless air. - -The lanthorn on the chariot was burning bright. And I saw Patty look at -me, and laugh. - -"Indeed!" says she; "what a sex is that to which you belong. How ready -are men to deny us at the first whisper! And I thought you the most -constant of all. For my part, I credit not a word of it. 'Tis one of Mr. -Marmaduke's lies and vanities." - -"And for my part, I think it true as gospel," I cried. "Dolly always -held a coronet above her colony, and all her life has dreamed of a -duke." - -"Nay," answered Patty, more soberly; "nay, you do her wrong. You will -discover one day that she is loyal to the core, tho' she has a fop of a -father who would serve his Grace's chocolate. We are all apt to talk, my -dear, and to say what we do not mean, as you are doing." - -"Were I to die to-morrow, I would repeat it," I exclaimed. But I liked -Patty the better for what she had said. - -"And there is more news, of less import," she continued, as I was -silent. "The Thunderer dropped anchor in the roads to-day, and her -officers will be at the assembly. And Betty tells me there is a young -lord among them,--la! I have clean forgot the string of adjectives she -used,--but she would have had me know he was as handsome as Apollo, and -so dashing and diverting as to put Courtenay and all our wits to shame. -She dined with him at the Governor's." - -I barely heard her, tho' I had seen the man-o'-war in the harbour as I -sailed in that afternoon. - -The assembly hall was filled when we arrived, aglow with candles and -a-tremble with music, the powder already flying, and the tables in the -recesses at either end surrounded by those at the cards. A lively scene, -those dances at the old Stadt House, but one I love best to recall with -a presence that endeared it to me. The ladies in flowered aprons and -caps and brocades and trains, and the gentlemen in brilliant coats, -trimmed with lace and stiffened with buckram. That night, as Patty had -predicted, there was a smart sprinkling of uniforms from the Thunderer. -One of those officers held my eye. He was as well-formed a lad, or man -(for he was both), as it had ever been my lot to see. He was neither -tall nor short, but of a good breadth. His fair skin was tanned by the -weather, and he wore his own wavy hair powdered, as was just become the -fashion, and tied with a ribbon behind. - -"Mercy, Richard, that must be his Lordship. Why, his good looks are all -Betty claimed for them!" exclaimed Patty. Mr. Lloyd, who was standing -by, overheard her, and was vastly amused at her downright way. - -"I will fetch him directly, Miss Swain," said he, "as I have done for a -dozen ladies before you." And fetch him he did. - -"Miss Swain, this is my Lord Comyn," said he. "Your Lordship, one of the -boasts of our province." - -Patty grew red as the scarlet with which his Lordship's coat was lined. -She curtseyed, while he made a profound bow. - -"What! Another boast, Mr. Lloyd!" he cried. "Miss Swain is the tenth I -have met. But I vow they excel as they proceed." - -"Then you must meet no more, my Lord," said Patty, laughing at Mr. -Lloyd's predicament. - -"Egad, then, I will not," declared Comyn. "I protest I am satisfied." - -Then I was presented. He had won me on the instant with his open smile -and frank, boyish manner. - -"And this is young Mr. Carvel, whom I hear wins every hunt in the -colony?" said he. - -"I fear you have been misinformed, my Lord," I replied, flashing with -pleasure nevertheless. - -"Nay, my Lord," Mr. Lloyd struck in; "Richard could ride down the devil -himself, and he were a fox. You will see for yourself to-morrow." - -"I pray we may not start the devil," said his Lordship; "or I shall be -content to let Mr. Carvel run him down." - -This Comyn was a man after my own fancy, as, indeed, he took the fancy -of every one at the ball. Though a viscount in his own right, he -gave himself not half the airs over us provincials as did many of his -messmates. Even Mr. Jacques, who was sour as last year's cider over the -doings of Parliament, lost his heart, and asked why we were not favoured -in America with more of his sort. - -By a great mischance Lord Comyn had fallen into the tender clutches -of my Aunt Caroline. It seemed she had known his uncle, the Honourable -Arthur Comyn, in New York; and now she undertook to be responsible for -his Lordship's pleasure at Annapolis, that he might meet only those of -the first fashion. Seeing him talking to Patty, my aunt rose abruptly -from her loo and made toward us, all paint and powder and patches, her -chin in the air, which barely enabled her to look over Miss Swain's -head. - -"My Lord," she cries, "I will show you our colonial reel, which is about -to begin, and I warrant you is gayer than any dance you have at home." - -"Your very devoted, Mrs. Carvel," says his Lordship, with a bow, "but -Miss Swain has done me the honour." - -"O Lud!" cries my aunt, sweeping the room, "I vow I cannot keep pace -with the misses nowadays. Is she here?" - -"She was but a moment since, ma'am," replied Comyn, instantly, with -a mischievous look at me, while poor Patty stood blushing not a yard -distant. - -There were many who overheard, and who used their fans and their napkins -to hide their laughter at the very just snub Mrs. Grafton had received. -And I wondered at the readiness with which he had read her character, -liking him all the better. But my aunt was not to be disabled by -this,--not she. After the dance she got hold of him, keeping him until -certain designing ladies with daughters took him away; their names -charity forbids me to mention. But in spite of them all he contrived to -get Patty for supper, when I took Betty Tayloe, and we were very merry -at table together. His Lordship proved more than able to take care of -himself, and contrived to send Philip about his business when he pulled -up a chair beside us. He drank a health to Miss Swain, and another to -Miss Tayloe, and was on the point of filling a third glass to the ladies -of Maryland, when he caught himself and brought his hand down on the -table. - -"Gad's life!" cried he, "but I think she's from Maryland, too!" - -"Who?" demanded the young ladies, in a breath. - -But I knew. - -"Who!" exclaimed Comyn. "Who but Miss Dorothy Manners! Isn't she from -Maryland?" And marking our astonished nods, he continued: "Why, she -descended upon Mayfair when they were so weary for something to worship, -and they went mad over her in a s'ennight. I give you Miss Manners!" - -"And you know her!" exclaimed Patty, her voice quivering with -excitement. - -"Faith!" said his Lordship, laughing. "For a whole month I was her most -devoted, as were we all at Almack's. I stayed until the last minute for -a word with her,--which I never got, by the way,--and paid near a guinea -a mile for a chaise to Portsmouth as a consequence. Already she has had -her choice from a thousand a year up, and I tell you our English ladies -are green with envy." - -I was stunned, you may be sure. And yet, I might have expected it. - -"If your Lordship has left your heart in England," said Betty, with a -smile, "I give you warning you must not tell our ladies here of it." - -"I care not who knows it, Miss Tayloe," he cried. That fustian, -insincerity, was certainly not one of his faults. "I care not who knows -it. To pass her chariot is to have your heart stolen, and you must needs -run after and beg mercy. But, ladies," he added, his eye twinkling; -"having seen the women of your colony, I marvel no longer at Miss -Manners's beauty." - -He set us all a-laughing. - -"I fear you were not born a diplomat, sir," says Patty. "You agree -that we are beautiful, yet to hear that one of us is more so is small -consolation." - -"We men turn as naturally to Miss Manners as plants to the sun, ma'am," -he replied impulsively. "Yet none of us dare hope for alliance with -so brilliant and distant an object. I make small doubt those are Mr. -Carvel's sentiments, and still he seems popular enough with the ladies. -How now, sir? How now, Mr. Carvel? You have yet to speak on so tender a -subject." - -My eyes met Patty's. - -"I will be no more politic than you, my Lord," I said boldly, "nor will -I make a secret of it that I adore Miss Manners full as much." - -"Bravo, Richard!" cries Patty; and "Good!" cries his Lordship, while -Betty claps her hands. And then Comyn swung suddenly round in his chair. - -"Richard Carvel!" says he. "By the seven chimes I have heard her mention -your name. The devil fetch my memory!" - -"My name!" I exclaimed, in surprise, and prodigiously upset. - -"Yes," he answered, with his hand to his head; "some such thought was in -my mind this afternoon when I heard of your riding. Stay! I have it! I -was at Ampthill, Ossory's place, just before I left. Some insupportable -coxcomb was boasting a marvellous run with the hounds nigh across -Hertfordshire, and Miss Manners brought him up with a round turn and a -half hitch by relating one of your exploits, Richard Carvel. And take my -word on't she got no small applause. She told how you had followed a -fox over one of your rough provincial counties, which means three of -Hertfordshire, with your arm broken, by Heaven! and how they lifted you -off at the death. And, Mr. Carvel," said my Lord, generously, looking at -my flushed face, "you must give me your hand for that." - -So Dorothy in England had thought of me at least. But what booted it if -she were to marry a duke! My thoughts began to whirl over all Comyn had -said of her so that I scarce heard a question Miss Tayloe had put. - -"Marry Chartersea! That profligate pig!" Comyn was saying. "She would as -soon marry a chairman or a chimneysweep, I'm thinking. Why, Miss Tayloe, -Sir Charles Grandison himself would scarce suit her!" - -"Good lack!" said Betty, "I think Sir Charles would be the very last for -Dorothy." - - - - -Volume 3. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. MR. ALLEN SHOWS HIS HAND - -So Dorothy's beauty had taken London by storm, even as it had conquered -Annapolis! However, 'twas small consolation to me to hear his Grace of -Chartersea called a pig and a profligate while better men danced her -attendance in Mayfair. Nor, in spite of what his Lordship had said, was -I quite easy on the score of the duke. It was in truth no small honour -to become a duchess. If Mr. Marmaduke had aught to say, there was an -end to hope. She would have her coronet. But in that hour of darkness I -counted upon my lady's spirit. - -Dr. Courtenay came to the assembly very late, with a new fashion of -pinchbeck buckles on his pumps and a new manner of taking snuff. (I -caught Fotheringay practising this by the stairs shortly after.) Always -an important man, the doctor's prominence had been increased that day -by the letter he had received. He was too thorough a courtier to profess -any grief over Miss Manners's match, and went about avowing that he had -always predicted a duke for Miss Dorothy. And he drew a deal of pleasure -from the curiosity of those who begged but one look at the letter. -Show it, indeed! For no consideration. A private communication from -one gentleman to another must be respected. Will Fotheringay swore the -doctor was a sly dog, and had his own reasons for keeping it to himself. - -The doctor paid his compliment to the captain of the Thunderer, and to -his Lordship; hoped that he would see them at the meet on the morrow, -tho' his gout forbade his riding to hounds. He saluted me in the most -friendly way, for I played billiards with him at the Coffee House -now, and he won my money. He had pronounced my phaeton to be as well -appointed as any equipage in town, and had done me the honour to -drive out with me on several occasions. It was Betty that brought him -humiliation that evening. - -"What do you think of the soar our Pandora hath taken, Miss Betty?" says -he. "From a Maryland manor to a ducal palace. 'Tis a fable, egad! No -less!" - -"Indeed, I think it is," retorted Betty. "Mark me, doctor, Dorothy will -not put up an instant with a roue and a brute." - -"A roue!" cries he, "and a brute! What the plague, Miss Tayloe! I vow I -do not understand you." - -"Then ask my Lord Comyn, who knows your Duke of Chartersea," said Betty. - -Dr. Courtenay's expression was worth a pistole. - -"Comyn know him!" he repeated. - -"That he does," replied Betty, laughing. "His Lordship says Chartersea -is a pig and a profligate, and I remember not what else. And that Dolly -will not look at him. And so little Mr. Marmaduke may go a-hunting for -another title." - -No wonder I had little desire for dancing that night! I wandered out of -the assembly-room and through the silent corridors of the Stadt House, -turning over and over again what I had heard, and picturing Dorothy -reigning over the macaronies of St. James's Street. She had said nothing -of this in her letter to Betty, and had asked me to write to her. But -now, with a duke to refuse or accept, could she care to hear from -her old playmate? I took no thought of the time, until suddenly my -conscience told me I had neglected Patty. - -As I entered the hall I saw her at the far end of it talking to Mr. -Allen. This I thought strange, for I knew she disliked him. Lord -Comyn and Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Singleton, were standing by, -listening. By the time I was halfway across to them the rector turned -away. I remember thinking afterwards that he changed colour when he -said: "Your servant, Mr. Richard." But I thought nothing of it at the -time, and went on to Patty. - -"I have come for a country dance, before we go, Patty," I said. - -Then something in her mien struck me. Her eyes expressed a pain I had -remarked in them before only when she spoke to me of Tom, and her lips -were closed tightly. She flushed, and paled, and looked from Singleton -to Mr. Carroll. They and his Lordship remained silent. - -"I--I cannot, Richard. I am going home," she said, in a low voice. - -"I will see if the chariot is here," I answered, surprised, but thinking -of Tom. - -She stopped me. - -"I am going with Mr. Carroll," she said. - -I hope a Carvel never has to be rebuffed twice, nor to be humbled by -craving an explanation before a company. I was confounded that Patty -should treat me thus, when I had done nothing to deserve it. As I made -for the door, burning and indignant, I felt as tho' every eye in the -room was upon me.' Young Harvey drove me that night. - -"Marlboro' Street, Mr. Richard?" said he. - -"Coffee House," replied I, that place coming first into my head. - -Young Harvey seldom took liberties; but he looked down from the box. - -"Better home, sir; your pardon, sir." - -"D--n it!" I cried, "drive where I bid you!" - -I pulled down the fore-glass, though the night was cold, and began to -cast about for the cause of Patty's action. And then it was the rector -came to my mind. Yes, he had been with her just before I came up, and I -made sure on the instant that my worthy instructor was responsible for -the trouble. I remembered that I had quarrelled with him the morning -before I had gone to Bentley Manor, and threatened to confess his -villany and my deceit to Mr. Carvel. He had answered me with a sneer and -a dare. I knew than Patty put honour and honesty before all else in the -world, and that she would not have suffered my friendship for a day had -she believed me to lack either. But she, who knew me so well, was not -likely to believe anything he might say without giving me the chance to -clear myself. And what could he have told her? - -I felt my anger growing big within me, until I grew afraid of what I -would do if I were tempted. I had a long score and a heavy score against -this rector of St. Anne's,--a score that had been gathering these years. -And I felt that my uncle was somewhere behind him; that the two of them -were plotters against me, even as Harvey had declared; albeit my Uncle -Grafton was little seen in his company now. And finally, in a sinister -flash of revelation, came the thought that Grafton himself was at the -back of this deception of my grandfather, as to my principles. Fool that -I was, it had never occurred to me before. But how was he to gain by it? -Did he hope that Mr. Carvel, in a fit of anger, would disinherit me when -he found I had deceived him? Yes. And so had left the matter in abeyance -near these two years, that the shock might be the greater when it -came. I recalled now, with a shudder, that never since the spring of my -grandfather's illness had my uncle questioned me upon my politics. I was -seized with a fit of fury. I suspected that Mr. Allen would be at the -Coffee House after the assembly. And I determined to seize the chance at -once and have it out with him then and there. - -The inn was ablaze, but as yet deserted; Mr. Claude expectant. He bowed -me from my chariot door, and would know what took me from the ball. I -threw him some short answer, bade Harvey go home, saying that I would -have some fellow light me to Marlboro' Street when I thought proper. -And coming into the long room I flung aside my greatcoat and commanded a -flask of Mr. Stephen Bordley's old sherry, some of which Mr. Claude had -obtained at that bachelor's demise. - -The wine was scarce opened before I heard some sort of stir at the -front, and two servants in a riding livery of scarlet and white hurried -in to seek Mr. Claude. The sight of them sufficed mine host, for he went -out as fast as his legs would go, giving the bell a sharp pull as he -passed the door; and presently I heard him complimenting two gentlemen -into the house. The voice of one I knew,--being no other than Captain -Clapsaddle's; and him I had not seen for the past six months. I was just -risen to my feet when they came in at the door beside me. - -"Richard!" cried the captain, and grasped my hand in both his own. -I returned his pressure, too much pleased to speak. Then his eye was -caught by my finery. - -"So ho!" says he, shaking his head at me for a sad rogue. "Wine and -women and fine clothes, and not nineteen, or I mistake me. It was so -with Captain Jack, who blossomed in a week; and few could vie with him, -I warrant you, after he made his decision. But bless me!" he went on, -drawing back, "the lad looks mature, and a fair two inches broader than -last spring. But why are you not at the assembly, Richard?" - -"I have but now come from there, sir," I replied, not caring in the -presence of a stranger to enter into reasons. - -At my answer the captain turned from me to the gentleman behind him, who -had been regarding us both as we talked. There are some few men in the -world, I thank God for it, who bear their value on their countenance; -who stand unmistakably for qualities which command respect and -admiration and love! We seem to recognize such men, and to wonder where -we have seen them before. In reality we recognize the virtues they -represent. So it was with him I saw in front of me, and by his air and -carriage I marked him then and there as a man born to great things. You -all know his face, my dears, and I pray God it may live in the sight of -those who come after you, for generation upon generation! - -"Colonel Washington," said the captain, "this is Mr. Richard Carvel, the -son of Captain Carvel." - -Mr. Washington did not speak at once. He stood regarding me a full -minute, his eye seeming to penetrate the secrets of my life. And I take -pride in saying it was an eye I could meet without flinching. - -"Your father was a brave man, sir," he said soberly, "and it seems you -favour him. I am happy in knowing the son." - -For a moment he stood debating whether he would go to the house of one -of his many friends in Annapolis, knowing that they would be offended -when they learned he had stopped at the inn. He often came to town, -indeed, but seldom tarried long; and it had never been my fortune to -see him. Being arrived unexpectedly, and obliged to be away early on the -morrow, he decided to order rooms of Mr. Claude, sat down with me at the -table, and commenced supper. They had ridden from Alexandria. I gathered -from their conversation that they were on their way to Philadelphia upon -some private business, the nature of which, knowing Captain Daniel's -sentiments and those of Colonel Washington, I went not far to guess. The -country was in a stir about the Townshend duties; and there being some -rumour that all these were to be discharged save only that on tea, -anxiety prevailed in our middle colonies that the merchants of New York -would abandon the association formed and begin importation. It was of -some mission to these merchants that I suspected them. - -As I sat beside Colonel Washington, I found myself growing calmer, -and ashamed of my lack of self-control. Unconsciously, when we come -in contact with the great of character, we mould our minds to their -qualities. His very person seemed to exhale, not sanctity, but virility. -I felt that this man could command himself and others. In his presence -self-command came to me, as a virtue gone out of him. 'Twas not his -speech, I would have you know, that took hold of me. He was by no means -a brilliant talker, and I had the good fortune to see him at his ease, -since he and the captain were old friends. As they argued upon the -questions of the day, the colonel did not seek to impress by words, -or to fascinate by manner. His opinions were calm and moderate, and -appeared to me so just as to admit of no appeal. He scrupled not to use -a forceful word when occasion demanded. And yet, now and then, he had -a lively way about him with all his dignity. When he had finished his -supper he bade Mr. Claude bring another bottle of Mr. Bordley's sherry, -having tested mine, and addressed himself to me. - -He would know what my pursuits had been; for my father's sake, what were -my ambitions? He questioned me about Mr. Carvel's plantation, of which -he had heard, and appeared pleased with the answers I gave as to its -management and methods. Captain Daniel was no less so. Mr. Washington -had agriculture at his finger ends, and gave me some advice which he had -found serviceable at Mount Vernon. - -"'Tis a pity, Richard," said he, smiling thoughtfully at the captain, -"'tis a pity we have no service afield open to our young men. One of -your spirit and bearing should be of that profession. Captain Jack was -as brave and dashing an officer as I ever laid eyes on." - -I hesitated, the tingling at the compliment. - -"I begin to think I was born for the sea, sir," I answered, at length. - -"What!" cried the captain; "what news is this, Richard? 'Slife! how has -this come about?" - -My anger subdued by Mr. Washington's presence, a curious mood had taken -its place. A foolish mood, I thought it, but one of feeling things to -come. - -"I believe I shall one day take part in a great sea-fight," I said. And, -tho' ashamed to speak of it, I told him of Stanwix's prophecy that I -should pace the decks of a man-o'-war. - -"A pox on Stanwix!" said the captain, "an artful old seadog! I never -yet knew one who did not think the sun rises and sets from poop to -forecastle, who did not wheedle with all the young blood to get them to -follow a bow-legged profession." - -Colonel Washington laughed. - -"Judge not, Clapsaddle," said he; "here are two of us trying to get the -lad for our own bow-legged profession. We are as hot as Methodists to -convert." - -"Small conversion he needed when I was here to watch him, colonel. And -he rides with any trooper I ever laid eyes on. Why, sir, I myself threw -him on a saddle before he could well-nigh walk, and 'twere a waste of -material to put him in the navy." - -"But what this old man said of a flag not yet seen in heaven or earth -interests me," said Colonel Washington. "Tell me," he added with a -penetration we both remarked, "tell me, does your Captain Stanwix follow -the times? Is he a man to read his prints and pamphlets? In other words, -is he a man who might predict out of his own heated imagination?" - -"Nay, sir," I answered, "he nods over his tobacco the day long. And I -will make bold to swear, he has never heard of the Stamp Act." - -"'Tis strange," said the colonel, musing; "I have heard of this second -sight--have seen it among my own negroes. But I heartily pray that this -may be but the childish fancy of an old mariner. How do you interpret -it, sir?" he added, addressing himself to me. - -"If a prophecy, I can interpret it in but one way," I began, and there I -stopped. - -"To be sure," said Mr. Washington. He studied me awhile as though -weighing my judgment, and went on: "Needless to say, Richard, that such -a service, if it comes, will not be that of his Majesty." - -"And it were, colonel, I would not embark in it a step," I cried. - -He laughed. - -"The lad has his father's impulse," he said to Captain Daniel. "But -I thought old Mr. Carvel to be one of the warmest loyalists in the -colonies." - -I bit my lip; for, since that unhappy deception of Mr. Carvel, I had -not meant to be drawn into an avowal of my sentiments. But I had, alas, -inherited a hasty tongue. - -"Mr. Washington," said the captain, "old Mr. Carvel has ever been a good -friend to me. And, though I could not but perceive which way the lad was -tending, I had held it but a poor return for friendship had I sought -by word or deed to bring him to my way of thinking. Nor have I ever -suffered his views in my presence." - -"My dear sir, I honour you for it," put in the colonel, warmly. - -"It is naught to my credit," returned the captain. "I would not, for the -sake of my party and beliefs, embitter what remains of my old friend's -life." - -I drew a long breath and drained the full glass before me. - -"Captain Daniel!" I cried, "you must hear me now. I have been waiting -your coming these months. And if Colonel Washington gives me leave, I -will speak before him." - -The colonel bade me proceed, avowing that Captain Carvel's son should -have his best assistance. - -With that I told them the whole story of Mr. Allen's villany. How I had -been sent to him because of my Whig sentiments, and for thrashing a Tory -schoolmaster and his flock. This made the gentlemen laugh, tho' Captain -Daniel had heard it before. I went on to explain how Mr. Carvel had -fallen ill, and was like to die; and how Mr. Allen, taking advantage of -his weakness when he rose from his bed, had gone to him with the lie of -having converted me. But when I told of the scene between my grandfather -and me at Carvel Hall, of the tears of joy that the old gentleman shed, -and of how he had given me Firefly as a reward, the captain rose from -his chair and looked out of the window into the blackness, and swore -a great oath all to himself. And the expression I saw come into the -colonel's eyes I shall never forget. - -"And you feared the consequences upon your grandfather's health?" he -asked gravely. - -"So help me God!" I answered, "I truly believe that to have undeceived -him would have proved fatal." - -"And so, for the sake of the sum he receives for teaching you," cried -the captain, with another oath, "this scoundrelly clergyman has betrayed -you into a lie. A scheme, by God's life! worthy of a Machiavelli!" - -"I have seen too many of his type in our parishes," said Mr. Washington; -"and yet the bishop of London seems powerless. And so used have we -become in these Southern colonies to tippling and gaming parsons, that I -warrant his people accept him as nothing out of the common." - -"He is more discreet than the run of them, sir. His parishioners dislike -him, not because of his irregularities, but because he is attempting to -obtain All Saints from his Lordship, in addition to St. Anne's. He is -thought too greedy." - -He was silent, his brow a little furrowed, and drummed with his fingers -upon the table. - -"But this I cannot reconcile," said he, presently, "that the reward is -out of all proportion to the risk. Such a clever rascal must play for -higher stakes." - -I was amazed at his insight. And for the moment was impelled to make -a clean breast of my suspicions,--nay, of my convictions of the whole -devil's plot. But I had no proofs. I remembered that to the colonel my -uncle was a gentleman of respectability and of wealth, and a member -of his Excellency's Council. That to accuse him of scheming for my -inheritance would gain me nothing in Mr. Washington's esteem. And -I caught myself before I had said aught of Mr. Allen's conduct that -evening. - -"Have you confronted this rector with his perfidy, Richard?" he asked. - -"I have, colonel, at my first opportunity." And I related how Mr. -Allen had come to the Hall, and what I had said to him, and how he had -behaved. And finally told of the picquet we now had during lessons, not -caring to shield myself. Both listened intently, until the captain broke -out. Mr. Washington's indignation was the stronger for being repressed. - -"I will call him out!" cried Captain Daniel, fingering his sword, as was -his wont when angered; "I will call him out despite his gown, or else -horse him publicly!" - -"No, my dear sir, you will do nothing of the kind," said the colonel. -"You would gain nothing by it for the lad, and lose much. Such rascals -walk in water, and are not to be tracked. He cannot be approached save -through Mr. Lionel Carvel himself, and that channel, for Mr. Carvel's -sake, must be closed." - -"But he must be shown up!" cried the captain. - -"What good will you accomplish?" said Mr. Washington; "Lord Baltimore is -notorious, and will not remove him. Nay, sir, you must find a way to get -the lad from his influence." And he asked me how was my grandfather's -health at present. - -I said that he had mended beyond my hopes. - -"And does he seem to rejoice that you are of the King's party?" - -"Nay, sir. Concerning politics he seems strangely apathetic, which -makes me fear he is not so well as he appears. All his life he has felt -strongly." - -"Then I beg you, Richard, take pains to keep neutral. Nor let any -passing event, however great, move you to speech or action." - -The captain shook his head doubtfully, as tho' questioning the ability -of one of my temper to do this. - -"I do not trust myself, sir," I answered. - -He rose, declaring it was past his hour for bed, and added some kind -things which I shall cherish in my memory. As he was leaving he laid his -hand on my shoulder. - -"One word of advice, my lad," he said. "If by any chance your -convictions are to come to your grandfather's ears, let him have them -from your own lips." And he bade me good night. - -The captain tarried but a moment longer. - -"I have a notion who is to blame for this, Richard," he said. "When I -come back from New York, we shall see what we shall see." - -"I fear he is too slippery for a soldier to catch," I answered. - -He went away to bed, telling me to be prudent, and mind the colonel's -counsel until he returned from the North. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. THE VOLTE COUPE - -I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for -my wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me. -But just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and -I sat down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon -myself, but to stay awhile. - -The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me. - -"Ho!" he cried, "will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?" - -He was already purple with wine. - -"God save me from you and your kind!" I replied. - -"'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!" he exclaimed, as he went -off down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And -they were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There -was the captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two -brother officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased -to be found in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who -had followed my Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have -tracked him to perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain, -leering and hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of -drunkenness as I had rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and -smiled, and was pushing his chair back, when something Collinson said -seemed to restrain him. - -I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though -I could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some -French cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was -making me dangerous. - -I forgot the advice I had received, and remembered only the months he -had goaded me. And I was even beginning to speculate how I could best -pick a quarrel with him on any issue but politics, when an unexpected -incident diverted me. Of a sudden the tall, ungainly form of Percy -Singleton filled the doorway, wrapped in a greatcoat. He swept the room -at a glance, and then strode rapidly toward the corner where I sat. - -"I had thought to find you here," he said, and dropped into a chair -beside me. I offered him wine, but he refused. - -"Now," he went on, "what has Patty done?" - -"What have I done that I should be publicly insulted?" I cried. - -"Insulted!" says he, "and did she insult you? She said nothing of that." - -"What brings you here, then?" I demanded. - -"Not to talk, Richard," he said quietly, "'tis no time tonight. I came -to fetch you home. Patty sent me." - -Patty sent him! Why had Patty sent him? But this I did not ask, for I -felt the devil within me. - -"We must first finish this bottle," said I, offhand, "and then I have a -little something to be done which I have set my heart upon. After that I -will go with you." - -"Richard, Richard, will you never learn prudence? What is it you speak -of?" - -I drew my sword and laid it upon the table. - -"I mean to spit that eel of a rector," said I, "or he will bear a slap -in the face. And you must see fair play." - -Singleton seized my coat, at the same time grasping the hilt of my -sword with the other hand. But neither my words nor my action had gone -unnoticed by the other end of the room. The company there fell silent -awhile, and then we heard Captain Collinson talking in even, drawling -tones. - -"'Tis strange," said he, "what hot sparks a man meets in these colonies. -They should be stamped out. His Majesty pampers these d--d Americans, -is too lenient by far. Gentlemen, this is how I would indulge them!" He -raised a closed fist and brought it down on the board. - -He spoke to Tories, but he forgot that Tories were Americans. In those -days only the meanest of the King's party would listen to such without -protest from an Englishman. But some of the meaner sort were there: -Philip and Tom laughed, and Mr. Allen, and my Lord's sycophants. -Fotheringay and some others of sense shook their heads one to another, -comprehending that Captain Collinson was somewhat gone in wine. For, -indeed, he had not strayed far from the sideboard at the assembly. Comyn -made a motion to rise. - -"It is already past three bells, sir, and a hunt to-morrow," he said. - -"From bottle to saddle, and from saddle to bottle, my Lord. We must have -our pleasure ashore, and sleep at sea," and the captain tipped his flask -with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord. -"We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason, -and before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the -customs served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word, -'twas as good as a play." - -I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the -cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept -over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and -Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice -I had reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from -Fotheringay on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the -floor. Then I drew back, amazed. - -I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me. - -The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's--Comyn -jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson--that none save me -guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was -up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me. - -"Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you," said -I, with what coolness I could muster. "But there is one here I would -give much for a chance to run through." - -And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and -movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face; -yet he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by -the Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us -with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him. - -"It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel," he cried. - -"As you please, my Lord," said I. - -"It boots not who crosses with him," Captain Collinson put in. "His -Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that -he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King." - -I wheeled on him for this. - -"I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and -murder, sir," I answered, "nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes -cannot be loyal save through interest." - -He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the -quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother -as against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been -reared. - -"Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn," cried the captain, with -an oath. "He seems to think his importance sufficient." - -But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should -strike him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was -right. - -"You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel," he said. - -"Nay," I answered, "and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through -with it at once. A large room upstairs is at our disposal; and there is -a hunt to-morrow which one of us may like to attend." - -There was a laugh at this, in which his Lordship joined. - -"I would to God, Mr. Carvel," he said, "that I had no quarrel with you!" - -"Amen to that, my Lord," I replied; "there are others here I would -rather fight." And I gave a meaning look at Mr. Allen. I was of two -minds to announce the scurvy trick he had played, but saw that I would -lose rather than gain by the attempt. Up to that time the wretch had not -spoken a word; now he pushed himself forward, though well clear of me. - -"I think it my duty as Mr. Carvel's tutor, gentlemen, to protest against -this matter proceeding," he said, a sneer creeping into his voice. "Nor -can I be present at it. Mr. Carvel is young and, besides, is not himself -with liquor. And, in the choice of politics, he knows not which leg he -stands upon. My Lord and gentlemen, your most humble and devoted." - -He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left -the tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep -in his chair. - -Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve -his Lordship, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some -one. 'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had passed from my mind. - -He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And -Will Fotheringay came forward. - -"I will act, Richard, if you allow me," he said. "I would have you know -I am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party. -But I admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy -with that which prompted his act." - -It was a noble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked -him with warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his -Lordship! - -Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told -that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private -room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party -of such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards. -Presently we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment -below. - -We gathered about the table and made shift at loo until the fellow had -retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and -Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my -anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed -between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of -Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man--like a -Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then -the clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter -floated up to us from below. - -And Comyn,--of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the -downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her -tears until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by -the lad before me. What a picture was he in his spotless shirt with the -ruffles, his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest! - -I had scarce felt his Lordship's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a -pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint -or trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was -buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore -that I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a -pin-cushion twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals -thrust into a pit with nothing but good-will between them, and those -without force them into anger and a deadly battle. And so it was, -unconsciously, between Comyn and me. I forgot presently that I was not -dealing with Captain Collinson, and my feelings went into my sword. -Comyn began to press me, nor did I give back. And then, before it came -over me that we had to do with life and death, he was upon me with a -volte coupe, feinting in high carte and thrusting in low tierce, his -point passing through a fold in my shirt. And I were not alive to write -these words had I not leaped out of his measure. - -"Bravo, Richard!" cried Fotheringay. - -"Well made, gads life!" from Mr. Furness. - -We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the -matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows -I was not used to play a passive part. I began to go carefully, but -fiercely; tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain -Daniel had taught me,--flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me -even, and in truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I -had him in the sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick -for me. We were sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in -my ears I could scarce hear the applause of the seconds. - -What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again -the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it -he did, this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that -intuition which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of -his adversary. Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this -coupe. I parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and -my point at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the -space of a second. My sword rang clattering on the floor. - -His Lordship understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one -wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the -rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp -pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock -striking the half-hour. - -I was blessed with a sturdy health such as few men enjoy, and came to -myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And -the first face I beheld was that of Colonel Washington. I heard him -speaking in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding. - -"I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air. -Fetch some linen!" - -"Now God be praised!" I heard Captain Daniel cry. - -With that his Lordship began to tear his own shirt into strips, and the -captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound -and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel assisting. When Mr. -Washington had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and -dishevelled, at my feet. - -"You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord," he said. - -"With all my heart, Colonel Washington!" cried his Lordship. "I owe my -life to his generosity." - -"What's that, sir?" - -Mr. Carvel dropped his sword, rather than run me through." - -"I'll warrant!" Captain Daniel put in; "'Od's heart! The lad has skill -to point the eye of a button. I taught him myself." - -Colonel Washington stood up and laid his hand on the captain's arm. - -"He is Jack Carvel over again," I heard him say, in a low voice. - -I tried to struggle to my feet, to speak, but he restrained me. And -sending for his servants, he ordered them to have his baggage removed -from the Roebuck, which was the best bed in the house. At this moment -the door opened, and Mr. Swain came in hurriedly. - -"I pray you, gentlemen," he cried, "and he is fit to be moved, you will -let me take him to Marlboro' Street. I have a chariot at the door." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. OF WHICH THE RECTOR HAS THE WORST - -'Twas late when I awoke the next day with something of a dull ache in -my neck, and a prodigious stiffness, studying the pleatings of the bed -canopy over my head. And I know not how long I lay idly thus when I -perceived Mrs. Willis moving quietly about, and my grandfather sitting -in the armchair by the window, looking into Freshwater Lane. As my eyes -fell upon him my memory came surging back,--first of the duel, then -of its cause. And finally, like a leaden weight, the thought of the -deception I had practised upon him, of which he must have learned ere -this. Nay, I was sure from the troubled look of his face that he knew of -it. - -"Mr. Carvel," I said. - -At the sound of my voice he got hastily from his chair and hurried to my -side. - -"Richard," he answered, taking my hand, "Richard!" - -I opened my mouth to speak, to confess. But he prevented me, the tears -filling the wrinkles around his eyes. - -"Nay, lad, nay. We will not talk of it. I know all." - -"Mr. Allen has been here--" I began. - -"And be d--d to him! Be d--d to him for a wolf in sheep's clothing!" -shouted my grandfather, his manner shifting so suddenly to anger that -I was taken back. "So help me God I will never set foot in St. Anne's -while he is rector. Nor shall he come to this house!" - -And he took three or four disorderly turns about the room. - -"Ah!" he continued more quietly, with something of a sigh, "I might have -known how stubborn your mind should be. That you was never one to blow -from the north one day and from the south the next. I deny not that -there be good men and able of your way of thinking: Colonel Washington, -for one, whom I admire and honour; and our friend Captain Daniel. They -have been here to-day, Richard, and I promise you were good advocates." - -Then I knew that I was forgiven. And I could have thrown myself at Mr. -Carvel's feet for happiness. - -"Has Colonel Washington spoken in my favour, sir?" - -"That he has. He is upon some urgent business for the North, I believe, -which he delayed for your sake. Both he and the captain were in my -dressing-room before I was up, ahead of that scurrilous clergyman, who -was for pushing his way to my bed-curtains. Ay, the two of them were -here at nigh dawn this morning, and Mr. Allen close after them. And I -own that Captain Daniel can swear with such a consuming violence as to -put any rogue out of countenance. 'Twas all Mr. Washington could do to -restrain Clapsaddle from booting his Reverence over the balustrade and -down two runs of the stairs, the captain declaring he would do for every -cur's son of the whelps. 'Diomedes,' says I, waking up, 'what's this -damnable racket on the landing? Is Mr. Richard home?' For I had some -notion it was you, sir, after an over-night brawl. And I profess I would -have caned you soundly. The fellow answered that Captain Clapsaddle's -honour was killing Mr. Allen, and went out; and came back presently to -say that some tall gentleman had the captain by the neck, and that Mr. -Allen was picking his way down the ice on the steps outside. With that I -went in to them in my dressing-gown. - -"'What's all this to-do, gentlemen?' said I. - -"'I'd have finished that son of a dog,' says the captain, 'and Colonel -Washington had let me.' - -"'What, what!' said I. 'How now? What! Drive a clergyman from my house -gentlemen?' - -"'What's Richard been at now?' - -"Mr. Washington asked me to dress, saying that they had something very -particular to speak about; that they would stay to breakfast with me, -tho' they were in haste to be gone to New York. I made my compliments -to the colonel and had them shown to the library fire, and hurried -down after them. Then they told me of this affair last night, and they -cleared you, sir. 'Faith,' cried I, 'and I would have fought, too. -The lad was in the right of it, though I would have him a little less -hasty.' D--n me if I don't wish you had knocked that sea captain's teeth -into his throat, and his brains with them. I like your spirit, sir. A -pox on such men as he, who disgrace his Majesty's name and set better -men against him." - -"And they told you nothing else, sir?" I asked, with misgiving. - -"That they did. Mr. Washington repeated the confession you made to -them, sir, in a manner that did you credit. He made me compliments on -you,--said that you were a man, sir, though a trifle hasty: in the which -I agreed. Yes, d--n me, a trifle hasty like your father. I rejoice that -you did not kill his Lordship, my son." - -The twilight was beginning; and the old gentleman going back to his -chair was set amusing, gazing out across the bare trees and gables -falling gray after the sunset. - -What amazed me was that he did not seem to be shocked by the revelation -near as much as I had feared. So this matter had brought me happiness -where I looked for nothing but sorrow. - -"And the gentlemen are gone north, sir?" said I, after a while. - -"Yes, Richard, these four hours. I commanded an early dinner for them, -since the colonel was pleased to tarry long enough for a little politics -and to spin a glass. And I profess, was I to live neighbours with such -a man, I might come to his way of thinking, despite myself. Though I say -it that shouldn't, some of his Majesty's ministers are d--d rascals." - -I laughed. As I live, I never hoped to hear such words from my -grandfather's lips. - -"He did not seek to convince, like so many of your hotheaded -know-it-alls," said Mr. Carvel; "he leaves a man to convince himself. He -has great parts, Richard, and few can stand before him." He paused. And -then his smooth-shaven face became creased in a roguish smile which -I had often seen upon it. "What baggage is this I hear of that you -quarrelled over at the assembly? Ah, Sir, I fear you are become but a -sad rake!" says he. - -But by great good fortune Dr. Leiden was shown in at this instant. And -the candles being lighted, he examined my neck, haranguing the while in -his vile English against the practice of duelling. He bade me keep my -bed for two days, thereby giving me no great pleasure. - -"As I hope to live," said Mr. Carvel when the doctor was gone, "one -would have thought his Excellency himself had been pinked instead of a -whip of a lad, for the people who have been here. His Lordship and Dr. -Courtenay came before the hunt, and young Mr. Fotheringay, and half a -score of others. Mr. Swain is but now left to go to Baltimore on some -barrister's business." - -I was burning to learn what the rector had said to Patty, but it was -plain Mr. Carvel knew nothing of this part of the story. He had not -mentioned Grafton among the callers. I wondered what course my uncle -would now pursue, that his plans to alienate me from my grandfather had -failed. And I began debating whether or not to lay the whole plot before -Mr. Carvel. Prudence bade me wait, since Grafton had not consorted with -the rector openly, at least--for more than a year. And yet I spoke. - -"Mr. Carvel!" - -He stirred in his chair. - -"Yes, my son." - -He had to repeat, and still I held my tongue. Even as I hesitated there -came a knock at the door, and Scipio entered, bearing candles. - -"Massa Grafton, suh," he said. - -My uncle was close at his heels. He was soberly dressed in dark brown -silk, and his face wore that expression of sorrow and concern he -knew how to assume at will. After greeting his father with his usual -ceremony, he came to my bedside and asked gravely how I did. - -"How now, Grafton!" cried Mr. Carvel; "this is no funeral. The lad has -only a scratch, thank God!" - -My uncle looked at me and forced a smile. - -"Indeed I am rejoiced to find you are not worried over this matter, -father," said he. "I am but just back from Kent to learn of it, and -looked to find you in bed." - -"Why, no, sir, I am not worried. I fought a duel in my own day,--over a -lass, it was." - -This time Grafton's smile was not forced. - -"Over a lass, was it?" he asked, and added in a tone of relief, "and how -do you, nephew?" - -Mr. Carvel saved me from replying. - -"'Od's life!" he cried; "no, I did not say this was over a lass. I have -heard the whole matter; how Captain Collinson, who is a disgrace to the -service, brought shame upon his Majesty's supporters, and how Richard -felled the young lord instead. I'll be sworn, and I had been there, I -myself would have run the brute through." - -My uncle did not ask for further particulars, but took a chair, and a -dish of tea from Scipio. His smug look told me plainer than words that -he thought my grandfather still ignorant of my Whig sentiments. - -"I often wish that this deplorable practice of duelling might be -legislated against," he remarked. "Was there no one at the Coffee House -with character enough to stop the lads?" - -Here was my chance. - -"Mr. Allen was there," I said. - -"A devil's plague upon him!" shouted my grandfather, beating the floor -with his stick. "And the lying hypocrite ever crosses my path, by gad's -life! I'll tear his gown from his back!" - -I watched Grafton narrowly. Such as he never turn pale, but he set down -his tea so hastily as to spill the most of it on the dresser. - -"Why, you astound me, my dear father!" he faltered; "Mr. Allen a lying -hypocrite? What can he have done?" - -"Done!" cried my grandfather, sputtering and red as a cherry with -indignation. "He is as rotten within as a pricked pear, I tell you, sir! -For the sake of retaining the lad in his tuition he came to me and lied, -sir, just after I had escaped death, and said that by his influence -Richard had become loyal, and set dependence upon Richard's fear of -the shock 'twould give me if he confessed--Richard, who never told me -a falsehood in his life! And instead of teaching him, he has gamed with -the lad at the rectory. I dare make oath he has treated your son to a -like instruction. 'Slife, sir, and he had his deserts, he would hang -from a gibbet at the Town Gate." - -I raised up in bed to see the effect of this on my uncle. But however -the wind veered, Grafton could steer a course. He got up and began -pacing the room, and his agitation my grandfather took for indignation -such as his own. - -"The dog!" he cried fiercely. "The villain! Philip shall leave him -to-morrow. And to think that it was I who moved you to put Richard to -him!" - -His distress seemed so real that Mr. Carvel replied: - -"No, Grafton, 'twas not your fault. You were deceived as much as I. You -have put your own son to him. But if I live another twelve hours I shall -write his Lordship to remove him. What! You shake your head, sir!" - -"It will not do," said my uncle. "Lord Baltimore has had his reasons for -sending such a scoundrel--he knew what he was, you may be sure, father. -His Lordship, sir, is the most abandoned rake in London, and that -unmentionable crime of his but lately in the magazines--" - -"Yes, yes," my grandfather interrupted; "I have seen it. But I will -publish him in Annapolis." - -My uncle's answer startled me, so like was it to the argument Colonel -Washington himself had used. - -"What would you publish, sir? Mr. Allen will reply that what he did -was for the lad's good, and your own. He may swear that since Richard -mentioned politics no more he had taken his conversion for granted." - -My grandfather groaned, and did not speak, and I saw the futility of -attempting to bring Grafton to earth for a while yet. - -My uncle had recovered his confidence. He had hoped, so he said, that -I had become a good loyalist: perchance as I grew older I would see the -folly of those who called themselves Patriots. But my grandfather cried -out to him not to bother me then. And when at last he was gone, of my -own volition I proposed to promise Mr. Carvel that, while he lived, I -would take no active part in any troubles that might come. He stopped me -with some vehemence. - -"I pray God there may be no troubles, lad," he answered; "but you need -give me no promise. I would rather see you in the Whig ranks than a -trimmer, for the Carvels have ever been partisans." - -I tried to express my gratitude. But he sighed and wished me good night, -bidding me get some rest. - -I had scarce finished my breakfast the next morning when I heard a loud -rat-tat-tat upon the street door-surely the footman of some person of -consequence. And Scipio was in the act of announcing the names when, -greatly to his disgust, the visitors themselves rushed into my bedroom -and curtailed the ceremony. They were none other than Dr. Courtenay and -my Lord Comyn himself. His Lordship had no sooner seen me than he ran -to the bed, grasped both my hands and asked me how I did, declaring he -would not have gone to yesterday's hunt had he been permitted to visit -me. - -"Richard," cried the doctor, "your fame has sprung up like Jonah's -gourd. The Gazette is but just distributed. Here's for you! 'Twill set -the wags a-going, I'll warrant." - -He drew the newspaper from his pocket and began to read, stopping now -and anon to laugh: - -"Rumour hath it that a Young Gentleman of Quality of this Town, who is -possessed of more Valour than Discretion, and whose Skill at Fence and -in the Field is beyond his Years, crossed Swords on Wednesday Night -with a Young Nobleman from the Thunderer. The Cause of this Deplorable -Quarrel, which had its Origin at the Ball, is purported to have been -a Young Lady of Wit and Beauty. (& we doubt it not; for, alas! the Sex -hath Much to answer for of this Kind.) - -"The Gentlemen, with their Seconds, repaired after the Assembly to the -Coffee House. 'Tis said upon Authority that H-s L-dsh-p owes his Life to -the Noble Spirit of our Young American, who cast down his Blade rather -than sheathe it in his Adversary's Body, thereby himself receiving a -Grievous, the' happily not Mortal, Wound. Our Young Gentleman is become -the Hero of the Town, and the Subject of Prodigious Anxiety of all the -Ladies thereof." - -"There's for you, my lad!" says he; "Mr. Green has done for you both -cleverly." - -"Upon my soul," I cried, raising up in bed, "he should be put in the -gatehouse for his impudence! My Lord,--" - -"Don't 'My Lord' me," says Comyn; "plain 'Jack' will do." - -There was no resisting such a man: and I said as much. And took his hand -and called him 'Jack,' the doctor posing before the mirror the while, -stroking his rues. "Out upon you both," says he, "for a brace of -sentimental fools!" - -"Richard," said Comyn, presently, with a roguish glance at the doctor, -"there were some reason in our fighting had it been over a favour of -Miss Manners. Eh? Come, doctor," he cried, "you will break your neck -looking for the reflection of wrinkles. Come, now, we must have little -Finery's letter. I give you my word Chartersea is as ugly as all three -heads of Cerberus, and as foul as a ship's barrel of grease. I tell you -Miss Dorothy would sooner marry you." - -"And she might do worse, my Lord," the doctor flung back, with a strut. - -"Ay, and better. But I promise you Richard and I are not such fools as -to think she will marry his Grace. We must have the little coxcomb's -letter." - -"Well, have it you must, I suppose," returns the doctor. And with that -he draws it from his pocket, where he has it buttoned in. Then he took a -pinch of Holland and began. - -The first two pages had to deal with Miss Dorothy's triumph, to which -her father made full justice. Mr. Manners world have the doctor (and all -the province) to know that peers of the realm, soldiers, and statesmen -were at her feet. Orders were as plentiful in his drawing-room as the -candles. And he had taken a house in Arlington Street, where Horry -Walpole lived when not at Strawberry, and their entrance was crowded -night and day with the footmen and chairmen of the grand monde. Lord -Comyn broke in more than once upon the reading, crying,--"Hear, hear!" -and,--"My word, Mr. Manners has not perjured himself thus far. He has -not done her justice by half." And I smiled at the thought that I had -aspired to such a beauty! - -"'Entre noes, mon cher Courtenay,' Mr. Manners writes, 'entre noes, -our Dorothy hath had many offers of great advantage since she hath been -here. And but yesterday comes a chariot with a ducal coronet to our -door. His Grace of Chartersea, if you please, to request a private -talk with me. And I rode with him straightway to his house in Hanover -Square.'" - -"'Egad! And would gladly have ridden straightway to Newgate, in a ducal -chariot!" cried his Lordship, in a fit of laughter. - -"'I rode to Hanover Square,' the doctor continued, 'where we discussed -the matter over a bottle. His Grace's generosity was such that I could -not but cry out at it, for he left me to name any settlement I pleased. -He must have Dorothy at any price, said he. And I give you my honour, -mon cher Courtenay, that I lost no time in getting back to Arlington -Street, and called Dorothy down to tell her.'" - -"Now may I be flayed," said Comyn, "if ever there was such another ass!" - -The doctor took more snuff and fell a-laughing. - -"But hark to this," said he, "here's the cream of it all: - -"You will scarce believe me when I say that the baggage was near beside -herself with anger at what I had to tell her. 'Marry that misshapen -duke!' cries she, 'I would quicker marry Doctor Johnson!' And truly, I -begin to fear she hath formed an affection for some like, foul-linened -beggar. That his Grace is misshapen I cannot deny; but I tried reason -upon her. 'Think of the coronet, my dear, and of the ancient name to -which it belongs.' She only stamps her foot and cries out: - -"'Coronet fiddlesticks! And are you not content with the name you bear, -sir?" 'Our name is good as any in the three kingdoms,' said I, with -truth. 'Then you would have me, for the sake of the coronet, joined to -a wretch who is steeped in debauchery. Yes, debauchery, sir! You might -then talk, forsooth, to the macaronies of Maryland, of your daughter the -Duchess.'" - -"There's spirit for you, my lad!" Comyn shouted; "I give you Miss -Dorothy." And he drained a glass of punch Scipio had brought in, Doctor -Courtenay and I joining him with a will. - -"I pray you go on, sir," I said to the doctor. - -"A pest on your impatience!" replied he; "I begin to think you are in -love with her yourself." - -"To be sure he is," said Comyn; "he had lost my esteem and he were not." - -The doctor gave me an odd look. I was red enough, indeed. - -"'I could say naught, my dear Courtenay, to induce her to believe that -his Grace's indiscretions arose from the wildness of youth. And I pass -over the injustice she hath unwittingly done me, whose only efforts are -for her bettering. The end of it all was that I must needs post back -to the duke, who was stamping with impatience up and down, and drinking -Burgundy. I am sure I meant him no offence, but told him in as many -words, that my daughter had refused him. And, will you believe me, -sir? He took occasion to insult me (I cannot with propriety repeat his -speech), and he flung a bottle after me as I passed out the door. Was he -not far gone in wine at the time, I assure you I had called him out for -it.'" - -"And, gentlemen," said the doctor, when our merriment was somewhat -spent, "I'll lay a pipe of the best Madeira, that our little fool never -knows the figure he has cut with his Grace." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR - -The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still upon -my back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seen -him again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who drift -together to part. And he left me that sword with the jewelled hilt, that -hangs above my study fire, which he had bought in Toledo. He told me -that he was heartily sick of the navy; that he had entered only in -respect for a wish of his father's, the late Admiral Lord Comyn, and -that the Thunderer was to sail for New York, where he looked for a -release from his commission, and whence he would return to England. He -would carry any messages to Miss Manners that I chose to send. But -I could think of none, save to beg him to remind her that she was -constantly in my thoughts. He promised me, roguishly enough, that he -would have thought of a better than that by the time he sighted Cape -Clear. And were I ever to come to London he would put me up at Brooks's -Club, and warrant me a better time and more friends than ever had a -Caribbee who came home on a visit. - -My grandfather kept his word in regard to Mr. Allen, and on Sunday -commanded the coach at eight. We drove over bad roads to the church at -South River. And he afterwards declined the voluntary aid he hitherto -had been used to give to St. Anne's. In the meantime, good Mr. Swain had -called again, bringing some jelly and cake of Patty's own making; and -a letter writ out of the sincerity of her heart, full of tender concern -and of penitence. She would never cease to blame herself for the wrong -she now knew she had done me. - -Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinner -that Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street. From the window she saw -me coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me. Her eyes -rested first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fire -of anxiety. - -"I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to South -River," she said. - -I was struck all of a sudden with her looks. Her face was pale, and I -saw that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed her -into the little library. The day was fading fast, and the leaping flames -behind the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of the -ceiling. We sat together in the deep window. - -"And you have forgiven me, Richard?" she asked. - -"An hundred times," I replied. "I deserved all I got, and more." - -"If I had not wronged and insulted you--" - -"You did neither, Patty," I broke in; "I have played a double part for -the first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished for -it." - -"'Twas I sent you to the Coffee House," she cried, "where you might have -been killed. How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen's tales!" - -"Then it was Mr. Allen!" I exclaimed, fetching a long breath. - -"Yes, yes; I will tell you all." - -"No," said I, alarmed at her agitation; "another time." - -"I must," she answered more calmly; "it has burned me enough. You recall -that we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn, -and how merry we were, altho' 'twas nothing but 'Dorothy' with you -gentlemen. Then you left me. Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr. -Singleton, the rector came up. I never have liked the man, Richard, but -I little knew his character. He began by twitting me for a Whig, and -presently he said: 'But we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who sees -the error of his ways. Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promised -to be one of those with whom his Majesty will have to reckon. And he -is now become,'--laughing,--'the King's most loyal and devoted.' I was -beside myself. 'That is no subject for jest, Mr. Allen,' I cried; I -will never believe it of him!' 'Jest!' said he; I give you my word I was -never soberer in my life.' Then it all came to me of a sudden that you -sat no longer by the hour with my father, as you used, and you denounced -the King's measures and ministers no more. My father had spoken of it. -'Tell me why he has changed?' I asked, faltering with doubt of you, -which I never before had felt. 'Indeed, I know not,' replied the rector, -with his most cynical smile; unless it is because old Mr. Carvel might -disinherit a Whig. But I see you doubt my word, Miss Swain. Here is Mr. -Carroll, and you may ask him.' God forgive me, Richard! I stopped Mr. -Carroll, who seemed mightily surprised. And he told me yes, that your -grandfather had said but a few days before, and with joy, that you were -now of his Majesty's party." - -"Alas! I might have foreseen this consequence," I exclaimed. "Nor do I -blame you, Patty." - -"But my father has explained all," Patty continued, brightening. "His -admiration for you is increased tenfold, Richard. Your grandfather told -him of the rector's treachery, which he says is sufficient to make him -turn Methodist or Lutheran. We went to the curate's service to-day. -And--will you hear more, sir? Or do your ears burn? That patriots and -loyalists are singing your praises from Town Gate to the dock, and -regretting that you did not kill that detestable Captain Collinson--but -I have something else, and of more importance, to tell you, Richard," -she continued, lowering her voice. - -"What Mr. Carroll had told me stunned me like a blow, such had been my -faith in you. And when Mr. Allen moved off, I stood talking to -Percy Singleton and his Lordship without understanding a word of the -conversation. I could scarce have been in my right mind. It was not your -going over to the other side that pained me so, for all your people are -Tories. But I had rather seen you dead than a pretender and a hypocrite, -selling yourself for an inheritance. Then you came. My natural impulse -should have been to draw you aside and there accuse you. But this was -beyond my strength. And when I saw you go away without a word I knew -that I had been unjust. I could have wept before them all. Mr. Carroll -went for his coach, and was a full half an hour in getting it. But this -is what I would tell you in particular, Richard. I have not spoken of it -to a soul, and it troubles me above all else: While Maria was getting my -cardinal I heard voices on the other side of the dressing-room door. The -supper-room is next, you know. I listened, and recognized the rector's -deep tones: 'He has gone to the Coffee House,' he was saying; Collinson -declares that his Lordship is our man, if we can but contrive it. He is -the best foil in the service, and was taught by--there! I have forgot -the name." - -"Angelo!" I cried. - -"Yes, yes, Angelo it was. How did you know?" she demanded, rising in her -excitement. - -"Angelo is the great fencing-master of London," I replied. - -"When I heard that," she said, "I had no doubt of your innocence. I ran -out into the assembly room as I was, in my hood, and tried to find Tom. -But he--" She paused, ashamed. - -"Yes, I know," I said hurriedly; "you could not find him." - -She glanced at me in gratitude. - -"How everybody stared at me! But little I cared! 'Twas that gave rise to -Mr. Green's report. I thought of Percy Singleton, and stopped him in the -midst of a dance to bid him run as fast as his legs would carry him to -the Coffee House, and to see that no harm befell you. 'I shall hold you -responsible for Richard,' I whispered. 'You must get him away from Mr. -Claude's, or I shall never speak to you again.' He did not wait to ask -questions, but went at once, like the good fellow he is. Then I rode -home with Maria. I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though he -begged hard. Father was in here, writing his brief. But I was all in -pieces, Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him no -more than that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant to -draw you into a duel. He took me up to my own room, and I heard him -going out to wake Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving away -in our coach. I hope I may never in my life spend such another hour as I -passed then." - -The light in the sky had gone out. I looked up at the girl before me as -she stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, her -lips parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her figure -softened. I wondered why I had never before known her beauty. Perchance -it was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart. - -I leaped to my feet and seized her hands. For a second she looked at me, -startled. Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair in -the corner. - -"Richard, Richard!" she exclaimed. "Did Dorothy but know!" - -"Dorothy is occupied with titles," I said. - -Patty's lip quivered. And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I had -hurt her. - -"Oh, you wrong her!" she cried; "believe me when I say that she loves -you, and you only, Richard." - -"Loves me!" I retorted bitterly,--brutally, I fear. "No. She may have -once, long ago. But now her head is turned." - -"She loves you now," answered Patty, earnestly; "and I think ever will, -if you but deserve her." - -And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexity -and consternation. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. SOUTH RIVER - -My grandfather's defection from St. Anne's called forth a deal of -comment in Annapolis. His Excellency came to remonstrate, but to no -avail, and Mr. Carvel denounced the rector in such terms that the -Governor was glad to turn the subject. My Uncle Grafton acted with -such quickness and force as would have served to lull the sharpest -suspicions. He forbid the rector his house, attended the curate's -service, and took Philip from his care. It was decided that both my -cousin and I were to go to King's College after Christmas. Grafton's -conduct greatly pleased my grandfather. "He has behaved very loyally in -this matter, Richard." he said to me. "I grow to reproach myself more -every day for the injustice I once did him. He is heaping coals of fire -upon my old head. But, faith! I cannot stomach your Aunt Caroline. You -do not seem to like your uncle, lad." - -I answered that I did not. - -"It was ever the Carvel way not to forget," he went on. "Nevertheless, -Grafton hath your welfare at heart, I think. His affection for you as -his brother's son is great." - -O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue! - -Christmas fell upon Monday of that year, 1769. There was to be a ball at -Upper Marlboro on the Friday before, to which many of us were invited. -Though the morning came in with a blinding snowstorm from the north, the -first of that winter, about ten of the clock we set out from Annapolis -an exceeding merry party, the ladies in four coaches-and-six, the -gentlemen and their servants riding at the wheels. We laughed and joked -despite the storm, and exchanged signals with the fair ones behind the -glasses. - -But we had scarce got two miles beyond the town gate when a messenger -overtook us with a note for Mr. Carvel, writ upon an odd slip of paper, -and with great apparent hurry: - -HONOURED SIR, - -"I have but just come to Annapolis from New York, with Instructions -to put into your Hands, & no Others, a Message of the greatest Import. -Hearing you are but now set out for Upper Marlboro I beg of you to -return for half an Hour to the Coffee House. By so doing you will be -of service to a Friend, and confer a Favour upon y'r most ob'd't Humble -Servant, - -"SILAS RIDGEWAY." - -Our cavalcade had halted while I read, the ladies letting down the -glasses and leaning out in their concern lest some trouble had befallen -me or my grandfather. I answered them and bade them ride on, vowing that -I would overtake the coaches before they reached the Patuxent. Then I -turned Cynthia's head for town, with Hugo at my heels. - -Patty, leaning from the window of the last coach, called out to me as I -passed. I waved my hand in return, and did not remember until long after -the anxiety in her eyes. - -As I rode, and I rode hard, I pondered over the words of this letter. I -knew not this Mr. Ridgeway from the Lord Mayor of London; but I came to -the conclusion before I had reprised the gate that his message was from -Captain Daniel. And I greatly feared that some evil had befallen my good -friend. So I came to the Coffee House, and throwing my bridle to Hugo, I -ran in. - -I found Mr. Ridgeway neither in the long room nor in the billiard room -nor the bar. Mr. Claude told me that indeed a man had arrived that -morning from the North, a spare person with a hooked nose and scant -hair, in a brown greatcoat with a torn cape. He had gone forth afoot -half an hour since. His messenger, a negro lad whose face I knew, was -in the stables with Hugo. He had never seen the stranger till he met -him that morning in State House Circle inquiring for Mr. Carvel, and had -been given a shilling to gallop after me. Impatient as I was to be gone, -I sat me down in the coffee room, thinking every minute the man must -return, and strongly apprehensive that Captain Daniel must be in some -grave predicament. That the favour he asked was of such a nature as I, -and not my grandfather, could best fulfil. - -At length, about a quarter after noon, my man comes in with Mr. Claude -close behind him. I liked his looks less than his description, and the -moment I clapped eyes on him I knew that Captain Daniel had never chose -such a messenger. - -"This is Mr. Richard Carvel," said Mr. Claude. - -The fellow made me a low bow, which I scarcely returned. - -"I am sure, 'sir," he began in a whining voice, "that I crave your -forbearance for this prodigious, stupid mistake I have made." - -"Mistake!" I exclaimed hotly; "you mean to say, sir, that you have -brought me back for nothing?" - -The man's eye shifted, and he made me another bow. - -"I scarce know what to say, Mr. Carvel," he answered with much humility; -"to speak truth, 'twas zeal to my employers, and methought to you, that -caused you to retrace your steps in this pestiferous storm. I travel," -he proceeded with some importance, "I travel for Messrs. Rinnell and -Runn, Barristers of the town of New York, and carry letters to men of -mark all over these middle and southern colonies. And my instructions, -sir, were to come to Annapolis with all reasonable speed with this -double-sealed enclosure for Mr. Carvel: and to deliver it to him, and -him only, the very moment I arrived. As I came through your town I made -inquiries, and was told by a black fellow in the Circle that Mr. -Carvel was but just left for Upper Marlboro with a cavalcade of four -coaches-and-six and some dozen gentlemen with their servants. I am sure -my mistake was pardonable, Mr. Carvel," he concluded with a smirk; "this -gentleman was plainly of the first quality, as was he to whom I was -directed. And as he was about to leave town for I knew not how long, I -hope I was in the right in bidding the black ride after him, for I -give you my word the business was most pressing for him. I crave your -forgiveness, and the pleasure of drinking your honour's health." - -I barely heard the fellow through, and was turning on my heel in -disgust, when it struck me to ask him what Mr. Carvel he sought, for I -feared lest my grandfather had got into some lawsuit. - -"And it please your honour, Mr. Grafton Carvel," said he; "your uncle, -I understand. Unfortunately he has gone to his estate in Kent County, -whither I must now follow him." - -I bade Mr. Claude summon my servant, not stopping to question the man -further, such was my resentment against him. And in ten minutes we were -out of the town again, galloping between the nearly filled tracks of the -coaches, now three hours ahead of us. The storm was increasing, and the -wind cutting, but I dug into Cynthia so that poor Hugo was put to it to -hold the pace, and, tho' he had a pint of rum in him, was near perished -with the cold. As my anger cooled somewhat I began to wonder how Mr. -Silas Ridgeway, whoever he was, could have been such a simpleton as his -story made him out. Indeed, he looked more the rogue than the ass; nor -could I conceive how reliable barristers could hire such a one. I wished -heartily that I had exhausted him further, and a suspicion crossed my -brain that he might have come to Mr. Allen, who had persuaded him to -deliver a letter to Grafton intended for me. Some foreboding beset -me, and I was once close to a full mind for going back, and slacked -Cynthia's pace to a trot. But the thought of the pleasures at Upper -Marlboro' and the hope of overtaking the party at Mr. Dorsey's place, -over the Patuxent, where they looked to dine, decided me in pushing on. -And thus we came to South River, with the snow so thick that we could -scarce see ten yards in front of us. - -Beyond, the road winds up the hill'around the end of Mr. Wiley's -plantation and plunges shortly into the woods, gray and cold indeed -to-day. At their skirt a trail branches off which leads to Mr. Whey's -warehouses, on the water's edge a mile or so below. And I marked that -this path was freshly trodden. I recall a small shock of surprise at -this, for the way was used only in the early autumn to connect with -some fields beyond the hill. And then I heard a sharp cry from Hugo and -pulled Cynthia short. He was some ten paces behind me. - -"Marse Dick!" he shouted, the whites of his eyes rolled up. "We'se gwine -to be robbed, Marse Dick." And he pointed to the footprints in the snow; -"somefin done tole Hugo not come to-day." - -"Nonsense!" I cried; "Mr. Wiley is making his lazy beggars cut wood -against Christmas." - -When in this temper the poor fellow had more fear of me than of aught -else, and he closed up to my horse's flank, glancing apprehensively to -the right and left, his teeth rattling. We went at a brisk trot. We know -not, indeed, how to account for many things in this world, for with. -each beat of Cynthia's feet I found myself repeating the words South -River and Marlboro, and seeking in my mind a connection to something -gone before. Then, like a sudden gust of wind, comes to me that strange -talk between Grafton and the rector, overheard by old Harvey in the -stables at Carvel Hall. And Cynthia's ears were pointing forward. - -With a quick impulse I loosed the lower frogs of my coat, for my sword -was buckled beneath, and was reaching for one of the brace of pistols -in my saddle-bags. I had but released them when Hugo cried out: "Gawd, -Marse Dick, run for yo' life!" and I caught a glimpse of him flying down -the road. As I turned a shot rang out, Cynthia reared high with a rough -brute of a fellow clinging to her bridle. I sent my charge full into his -chest, and as he tumbled in the snow I dug my spurs to the rowels. - -What happened then is still a blurred picture in my brain. I know that -Cynthia was shot from under me before she had taken her leap, and we -fell heavily together. And I was scarcely up again and my sword drawn, -when the villains were pressing me from all sides. I remember spitting -but one, and then I heard a great seafaring oath, the first word out of -their mouths, and I was felled from behind with a mighty blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. THE "BLACK MOLL" - -I have no intention, my dears, of dwelling upon that part of my -adventures which must be as painful to you as to me, the very -recollection of which, after all these years, suffices to cause the -blood within me to run cold. In my youth men whose natures shrank not -from encounter with their enemies lacked not, I warrant you, a checkered -experience. Those of us who are wound the tightest go the farthest and -strike the hardest. Nor is it difficult for one, the last of whose life -is being recorded, to review the outspread roll of it, and trace the -unerring forces which have drawn for themselves. - -Some, indeed, traverse this world weighing, before they partake, -pleasure and business alike. But I am not sure, my children, that they -better themselves; or that God, in His all-wise judgment, prefers them -to such as are guided by the divine impulse with which He has endowed -them. Far be it from me to advise rashness or imprudence, as such; nor -do I believe you will take me so. But I say unto you: do that which is -right, and let God, not man, be your interpreter. - -My narrative awaits me. - -I came to my wits with an immoderate feeling of faintness and sickness, -with no more remembrance of things past than has a man bereft of -reason. And for some time I swung between sense and oblivion before an -overpowering stench forced itself upon my nostrils, accompanied by a -creaking, straining sound and sweeping motion. I could see nothing for -the pitchy blackness. Then I recalled what had befallen me, and cried -aloud to God in my anguish, for I well knew I had been carried aboard -ship, and was at sea. I had oftentimes heard of the notorious press-gang -which supplied the need of the King's navy, and my first thought was -that I had fallen in their clutches. But I wondered that they had dared -attack a person of my consequence. - -I had no pain. I lay in a bunk that felt gritty and greasy to the touch, -and my hair was matted behind by a clot of blood. I had been stripped of -my clothes, and put into some coarse and rough material, the colour and -condition of which I could not see for want of light. I began to cast -about me, to examine the size of the bunk, which I found to be narrow, -and plainly at some distance from the deck, for I laid hold upon one of -the rough beams above me. By its curvature I knew it to be a knee, and -thus I came to the caulked sides of the vessel, and for the first time -heard the rattling thud and swish of water on the far side of it. I had -no sooner made this discovery, which drew from me an involuntary groan, -when a ship's lanthorn was of a sudden thrust over me, and I perceived -behind it a head covered with shaggy hair and beard, and beetling brows. -Never had I been in such a terrifying presence. - -"Damn my blood and bones, life signals at last! Another three bells -gone, my silks and laces, and we had given you to the sharks." - -The man hung his lanthorn to a hook on the beam, and thrust a -case-bottle of rum toward me, at the same time biting off a great quid -of tobacco. For all my alarm I saw that his manner was not unkindly, and -as I was conscious of a consuming thirst I seized and tipped it eagerly. - -"'Tis no fine Madeira, my blood," said he, "such as I fancy your palate -is acquainted with. Yet 'tis as fair a Jamaica as ever Griggs put ashore -i' the dark." - -"Griggs!" I cried, the whole affair coming to me: Griggs, Upper -Marlboro', South River, Grafton and the rector plotting in the stalls, -and Mr. Silas Ridgeway the accomplice. - -"Ay, Griggs," replied he; "ye may well repeat it, the-------, I'll lay a -puncheon he'll be hailing you shortly. Guinea Griggs, Gold-Coast Griggs, -Smuggler Griggs, Skull-and-Bones Griggs. Damn his soul and eyes, he hath -sent to damnation many a ship's company." - -He drained what remained of the bottle, took down the lanthorn, and left -me sufficiently terrified to reflect upon my situation, which I found -desperate enough, my dears. I have no words to describe what I went -through in that vile, foul-smelling place. My tears flowed fast when I -thought of my grandfather and of the dear friends I had left behind, and -of Dorothy, whom I never hoped to see again. And then, perchance 'twas -the rum put heart into me, I vowed I would face the matter show this -cut-throat of a Griggs a bold front. Had he meant to murder me, I -reflected, he had done the business long since. Then I fell asleep. - -I awoke, I know not how soon, to discover the same shaggy countenance, -and the lanthorn. - -"Canst walk, Mechlin?" says he. - -"I can try, at least," I answered. - -He seemed pleased at this. - -"You have courage a-plenty, and, by G--, you will have need of it all -with that of a Griggs!" He gave me his bottle again, and assisted me -down, and I found that my legs, save for the rocking of the ship, were -steady enough. I followed him out of the hole in which I had lain on to -a deck, which, in the half light, I saw covered with slush and filth. -It was small, and but dimly illuminated by a hatchway, up the which I -pushed after him, and then another. And so we came to the light of day, -which near blinded me: so that I was fain to clap my hand to mine eyes, -and stood for a space looking about me like a man dazed. The wind, tho' -blowing stiff, was mild, and league after league of the green sea danced -and foamed in the morning sunlight, and I perceived that I was on a -large schooner under full sail, the crew of which were littered about -at different occupations. Some gaming and some drinking, while on the -forecastle two men were settling a dispute at fisticuffs. And they gave -me no more notice, nor as much, than I had been a baboon thrust among -them. From this indifference to a captive I augured no good. Then my -conductor, whom I rightly judged to be the mate of this devil's crew, -took me roughly by the shoulder and bade me accompany him to the cabin. - -As we drew near the topgallant poop there sounded in my ears a noise -like a tempest, which I soon became aware was a man swearing with a -prodigious vehemence in a fog-horn of a voice. "Sdeath and wounds! Where -is that dog-fish of a Cockle? Damn his entrails, and he is not come -soon, I'll mast-head him naked, by the seven holy spritsails!" And -much more and worse to the same tune until we passed the door and stood -before him, when he let out an oath like the death-cry of a monster. - -He was a short, lean man with a leathery face and long, black ropy hair, -and beady black eyes that caught the light like a cat's. His looks, -indeed, would have scared a timid person into a fit; but I resolved I -would die rather than show the fear with which he inspired me. He was -dressed in an old navy uniform with dirty lace. His cabin was bare -enough, being scattered about with pistols and muskets and cutlasses, -with a ragged pallet in one corner, and he sat behind an oaken table -covered with greasy charts and spilled liquor and tobacco. - -"So ho, you are risen from the dead, are you, my fine buck? Mr. -What-do-they-call-you?" cried the captain, with a word as foul as any -he had yet uttered. "By the Lord, you shall pay for running my bosun -through!" - -"And by the Lord, Captain What's-your-name," I cried back, for the rum I -had taken had heated me, "you and your fellow-rascals shall pay in blood -for this villanous injury!" - -Griggs got to his feet and seized his hanger, his face like livid marble -seamed with blue. And from force of habit I made motion for my sword, -to make the shameful discovery that I was clothed from head to foot in -linsey-woolsey. - -"G-d---my soul," he roared, "if I don't slit you like a herring! The -devil burn me to a cinder if I don't give your guts to the sharks!" And -he made at me in such a fury that I would certainly have been cut to -pieces had I not grasped a cutlass and parried his blow, Cockle looking -on with his jaw dropped like a peak without haulyards. With a stroke of -my weapon I disarmed Captain Griggs, his sword flying through the cabin -window. For I made up my mind I would better die fighting than expire at -a hideous torture, which I doubted not he would inflict, and so I took -up a posture of defence, with one eye on the mate; despite the kind -offices of the latter below I knew not whether he were disposed to -befriend me before the captain. What was my astonishment, therefore, to -behold Griggs's truculent manner change. - -"Avast, my man-o-war," he cried; "blood and wounds! I had more than an -eye when they brought thee aboard, else I would have killed thee like -a sucking-pig under the forecastle, as I have given oath to do. By the -Ghost, you are worth seven of that Roger Spratt whom you sent to hell in -his boots." - -Wherewith Cockle, who for all his terrible appearance stood in a mighty -awe of his captain, set up a loud laugh, and vowed that Griggs knew a -man when he spared me, and was cursed for his pains. - -"So you were contracted to murder me, Captain Griggs?" said I. - -"Ay," he replied, a devilish gleam coming into his eye, "but I have now -got you and the money to boot. But harkye, I'll stand by my half of the -bargain, by G--. If ever you reach Maryland alive, they may hang me to -the yardarm of a ship-of-the-line." - -And I live long enough, my dears, I hope some day to write for you the -account of all that befell me on this slaver, Black Moll, for so she was -called. 'Twould but delay my story now. Suffice it to say that we sailed -for a fortnight or so in the West India seas. From some observations -that fell from the mouth of Griggs I gathered that he was searching for -an island which evaded him; and each day added to his vexation at not -finding it. At times he was drunk for forty hours at a stretch, when -he would shut himself in his cabin and leave his ship to the care of -Cockle, who navigated with the sober portion of the crew. And such a -lousy, brawling lot of convicts I had never clapped eyes upon. As for -me, I was treated indifferently well, though 'twas in truth punishment -enough to live in that filthy ship, to eat their shins of beef and briny -pork and wormy biscuit, to wear rough clothes that chafed my skin. I -shared Cockle's cabin, in every way as dirty a place as the den I had -left, but with the advantage of air, for which I fervently thanked God. - -I think the mate had some little friendship for me, though he was too -hardened by the life he had led to care a deal what became of me. He -encouraged me secretly to continue to beard Griggs as I had begun, -saying that it was my sole chance of a whole skin, and vowing that if he -had had the courage to pursue the same course his own back had not been -checkered like a grating. He told me stories of the captain's cruelty -which I dare not repeat for their very horror, and indeed I lacked not -for instances to substantiate what he said; men with their backs beaten -to a pulp, and others with ears cut off, and mouths slit, and toes -missing. So that I lived in hourly fear lest in some drunken fit -Griggs might command me to be tortured. But, fortunately, he held small -converse with me, and when sober busied himself in trying to find the -island and in cursing the fate by which it eluded him. - -So I existed, and prayed daily for deliverance. I plied Cockle with -questions as to what they purposed doing with me, but he was wont to -turn sulky, and would answer me not a word. But once, when he was deeper -in his cups than common, he let me know that Griggs was to sell me to a -certain planter. You may well believe that this did not serve to liven -my spirits. - -At length, one morning, Captain Griggs came out of his cabin and climbed -upon the poop, calling all hands aft to the quarterdeck. Whereupon he -proceeded to make them a speech that for vileness exceeded aught I have -ever heard before or since. He finished by reminding them that this was -the anniversary of the scuttling of the sloop Jane, which had made them -all rich a year before, off the Canaries; the day that he had sent three -and twenty men over the plank to hell. Wherefore he decreed a holiday, -as the weather was bright and the trades light, and would serve -quadruple portions of rum to every man jack aboard; and they set up a -cheer that started the Mother Careys astern. - -I have no language to depict the bestiality of that day; and if I had I -would think it sin to write of it. The helm was lashed on the port tack, -the haulyards set taut, and all hands down to the lad who was the cook's -scullion proceeded to get drunk. I took the precaution to have a hanger -at my side and to slip one of Cockle's pistols within the band of my -breeches. I was in an exquisite' agony of indecision as to what manner -to act and how to defend myself from their drunken brutality, for I well -knew that if I refused to imbibe with them I should probably be murdered -for my abstemiousness; and, if I drank, the stuff was so near to alcohol -that I could not hope to keep my senses. While in this predicament I -received a polite invitation to partake in the captain's company, -which I did not see my way clear to refuse, and repaired to the cabin -accordingly. - -There I found Griggs and Cockle seated, and a fair-sized barrel of rum -between them that the captain had just moved thither. By way of welcome -he shot at me a volley of curses and bade me to fill up, and through -fear of offending him I took down my first mug with a fair good grace. -Then, in his own particular language, he began the account of the -capture of the Jane, taking care in the pauses to see that my mug was -full. But, as luck would have it, he got no farther than the boarding by -the Black Moll's crew, when he fell to squabbling with Cockle as to who -had been the first man over the side; and while they were settling this -difference I grasped the opportunity to escape. - -The maudlin scene that met my eyes on deck defies description; some -were fighting, others grinning with a hideous laughter, and still others -shouting tavern jokes unspeakable. And suddenly, whilst I was observing -these things from a niche behind the cabin door, I heard the captain -cry from within, "The ensign, the ensign!" Forgetting his dispute with -Cockle, he bumped past me and made his way with some trouble to the -poop. I climbed the ladder after him, and to my horror beheld him in -a drunken frenzy drag a black flag with a rudely painted skull and -cross-bones from the signal-chest, and with uncertain fingers toggle it -to the ensign haulyards and hoist to the peak, where it fluttered grimly -in the light wind like an evil augur on a fair day. At sight of it the -wretches on deck fell to shouting and huzzaing, Griggs standing leering -up at it. Then he gravely pulled off his hat and made it a bow, and -turned upon me. - -"Salute it, ye lubberly! Ye are no first-rate here," he thundered. -"Salute the flag!" - -Unless fear had kept me sober, 'tis past my understanding why I was not -as drunk as he. Be that as it may, I was near as quarrelsome, and would -as soon have worshipped the golden calf as saluted that rag. I flung -back some reply, and he lugged out and came at me with a spring like a -wild beast; and his men below, seeing us fall out, made a rush for the -poop with knives and cutlasses drawn. Betwixt them all I should soon -have been in slivers had not the main shrouds offered themselves handy. -And up them I sprung, the captain cutting at my legs as I left -the sheer-pole, and I stopped not until I reached the schooner's -cross-trees, where I drew my cutlass. They pranced around the mast and -showered me with oaths, for all the world like a lot of howling dogs -which had treed a cat. - -I began to feel somewhat easier, and cried aloud that the first of -them who came up after me would go down again in two pieces. Despite my -warning a brace essayed to climb the ratlines, as pitiable an attempt as -ever I witnessed, and fell to the deck again. 'Twas a miracle that they -missed falling into the sea. And after a while, becoming convinced -that they could not get at me, and being too far gone to shoot with any -accuracy, they tumbled off the poop swearing to serve me in a hundred -horrible ways when they caught me, and fell again to drinking and -quarrelling amongst themselves. I was indeed in an unenviable plight, -by no means sure that I would not be slain out of hand when they became -sufficiently sober to capture me. As I marked the progress of their -damnable orgy I cast about for some plan to take advantage of their -condition. I observed that a stupor was already beginning to overcome a -few of them. Then suddenly an incident happened to drive all else from -my mind. - -Nothing less, my dears, than a white speck of sail gleaming on the -southern horizon! - -For an hour I watched it, now in a shiver of apprehension lest it pass -us by, now weeping in an ecstasy of joy over a possible deliverance. But -it grew steadily larger, and when about three miles on our port bow I -saw that the ship was a brigantine. Though she had long been in sight -from our deck, 'twas not until now that she was made out by a man on the -forecastle, who set up a cry that brought about him all who could reel -thither, Griggs staggering out of his cabin and to the nettings. The -sight sobered him somewhat, for he immediately shouted orders to cast -loose the guns, himself tearing the breeching from the nine-pounder next -him and taking out the tompion. About half the crew were in a liquorish -stupor from which the trump itself could scarce have aroused them; -the rest responded with savage oaths, swore that they would boil their -suppers in the blood of the brigantine's men and give their corpses to -the sea. They fell to work on the port battery in so ludicrous a manner -that I was fain to laugh despite the gravity of the situation. But when -they came to rig the powderhoist and a couple of them descended into -the magazine with pipes lighted, I was in imminent expectation of being -blown as high as a kite. - -So absorbed had I been in these preparations that I neglected to watch -the brigantine, which I discovered to be standing on and off in a very -undecided manner, as though hesitating to attack. My spirits fell again -at this, for with all my inexperience I knew her to be a better sailer -than the Black Moll. Her master, as Griggs remarked, "was no d--d -slouching lubber, and knew a yardarm from a rattan cane." - -Finally, about six bells of the watch, the stranger wore ship and bore -down across our bows, hoisting English colours, at sight of which I -could scarce forbear a cheer. At this instant, Captain Griggs woke to -the fact that his helm was still lashed, and bestowing a hearty kick on -his prostrate quartermaster stuck fast to the pitchy seams of the deck, -took the wheel himself, and easing off before the wind to bring the -vessels broadside to broadside, commanded that the guns be shooed to -the muzzle, an order that was barely executed before the brigantine came -within close range. Aboard her was all order and readiness; the men at -her guns fuse in hand, an erect and pompous figure of a man, in a cocked -hat, on the break of her poop. He raised his hand, two puffs of white -smoke darted out, and I heard first the shrieking of shot, the broadside -came crashing round us, one tearing through the mainsail below me, -another mangling two men in the waist of our schooner, and Griggs gave -the order to touch off. But two of his guns answered, one of which had -been so gorged with shot that it burst in a hundred pieces and sent -the fellow with the swab to perdition, and such a hell of blood and -confusion as resulted is indescribable. I saw Griggs in a wild fit of -rage force the helm down, the schooner flying into the wind. And by this -time, the brigantine having got round and presented her port battery, -raked us at a bare hundred yards, and I was the first to guess by the -tilting forward of the mast that our hull was hit between wind and -water, and was fast settling by the bow. - -The schooner was sinking like a gallipot. - -That day, with the sea flashing blue and white in the sun, I saw men go -to death with a curse upon their lips and a fever in their eyes, with -murder and defiance of God's holy will in their hearts. Overtaken in -bestiality, like the judgment of Nineveh, five and twenty disappeared -from beneath me, and I had scarce the time to throw off my cutlass -before I, too, was engulfed. So expired the Black Moll. - - - - -Volume 4. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. A MAN OF DESTINY - -I was picked up and thrown into the brigantine's long-boat with a head -and stomach full of salt water, and a heart as light as spray with the -joy of it all. A big, red-bearded man lifted my heels to drain me. - -"The mon's deid," said he. - -"Dead!" cried I, from the bottom-board. "No more dead than you!" - -I turned over so lustily that he dropped my feet, and I sat up, -something to his consternation. And they had scarce hooked the ship's -side when I sprang up the sea-ladder, to the great gaping of the boat's -crew, and stood with the water running off me in rivulets before -the captain himself. I shall never forget the look of his face as he -regarded my sorry figure. - -"Now by Saint Andrew," exclaimed he, "are ye kelpie or pirate?" - -"Neither, captain," I replied, smiling as the comical end of it came up -to me, "but a young gentleman in misfortune." - -"Hoots!" says he, frowning at the grinning half-circle about us, "it's -daft ye are--" - -But there he paused, and took of me a second sizing. How he got at my -birth behind my tangled mat of hair and wringing linsey-woolsey I -know not to this day. But he dropped his Scotch and merchant-captain's -manner, and was suddenly a French courtier, making me a bow that had -done credit to a Richelieu. - -"Your servant, Mr.--" - -"Richard Carvel, of Carvel Hall, in his Majesty's province of Maryland." - -He seemed sufficiently impressed. - -"Your very humble servant, Mr. Carvel. 'Tis in faith a privilege to be -able to serve a gentleman." - -He bowed me toward his cabin, and then in sharp, quick tones he gave -an order to his mate to get under way, and I saw the men turning to the -braces with wonder in their eyes. My own astonishment was as great. And -so, with my clothes sucking to my body and a trail of water behind me -like that of a wet walrus, I accompanied the captain aft. His quarters -were indeed a contrast to those of Griggs, being so neat that I paused -at the door for fear of profaning them; but was so courteously bid to -enter that I came on again. He summoned a boy from the round house. - -"William," said he, "a bottle of my French brandy. And my compliments -to Mr. MacMuir, and ask him for a suit of clothes. You are a larger man -than I, Mr. Carvel," he said to me, "or I would fit you out according to -your station." - -I was too overwhelmed to speak. He poured out a liberal three fingers -of brandy, and pledged me as handsomely as I had been an admiral -come thither in mine own barge, instead of a ragged lad picked off a -piratical slaver, with nothing save my bare word and address. 'Twas then -I had space to note him more particularly. His skin was the rich colour -of a well-seasoned ship's bell, and he was of the middle height, owned -a slight, graceful figure, tapering down at the waist like a top, which -had set off a silk coat to perfection and soured the beaus with envy. -His movements, however, had all the decision of a man of action and of -force. But his eye it was took possession of me--an unfathomable, dark -eye, which bore more toward melancholy than sternness, and yet had -something of both. He wore a clean, ruffled shirt, an exceeding neat -coat and breeches of blue broadcloth, with plate burnished buttons, and -white cotton stockings. Truly, this was a person to make one look twice, -and think oftener. Then, as I went to pledge him, I, too, was caught for -his name. - -"Paul," said he; "John Paul, of the brigantine John, of Kirkcudbright, -in the West India trade." - -"Captain Paul--" I began. But my gratitude stuck fast in my throat and -flowed out of my eyes. For the thought of the horrors from which he -had saved me for the first time swept over me; his own kind treatment -overcame me, and I blubbered like a child. With that he turned his back. - -"Hoots," says he, again, "dinna ye thank me. 'Tis naething to scuttle a -nest of vermin, but the duty of ilka man who sails the seas." By this, -having got the better of his emotion, he added: "And if it has been my -good fortune to save a gentleman, Mr. Carvel, I thank God for it, as you -must." - -Save for a slackness inside the leg and in the hips, Macbluir's clothes -fitted me well enough, and presently I reappeared in the captain's cabin -rigged out in the mate's shore suit of purplish drab, and brass-buckled -shoes that came high over the instep, with my hair combed clear and -tied with a ribbon behind. I felt at last that I might lay some claim to -respectability. And what was my surprise to find Captain Paul buried to -his middle in a great chest, and the place strewn about with laced and -broidered coats and waistcoats, frocks and Newmarkets, like any tailor's -shop in Church Street. So strange they looked in those tropical seas -that he was near to catching me in a laugh as he straightened up. 'Twas -then I noted that he was a younger man than I had taken him for. - -"You gentlemen from the southern colonies are too well nourished, by -far," says he; "you are apt to be large of chest and limb. 'Odds bods, -Mr. Carvel, it grieves me to see you apparelled like a barber surgeon. -If the good Lord had but made you smaller, now," and he sighed, "how -well this skyblue frock had set you off." - -"Indeed, I am content, and more, captain," I replied with a smile, "and -thankful to be safe amongst friends. Never, I assure you, have I had -less desire for finery." - -"Ay," said he, "you may well say that, you who have worn silk all your -life, and will the rest of it, and we get safe to port. But believe me, -sir, the pleasure of seeing one of your face and figure in such a coat -as that would not be a small one." - -And disregarding my blushes and protests, he held up the watchet blue -frock against me, and it was near fitting me but for my breadth,--the -skirts being prodigiously long. I wondered mightily what tailor had -thrust this garment upon him; its fashion was of the old king's time, -the cuffs slashed like a sea-officer's uniform, and the shoulders made -carefully round. But other thoughts were running within me then. - -"Captain," I cut in, "you are sailing eastward." - -"Yes, yes," he answered absently, fingering some Point d'Espagne. - -"There is no chance of touching in the colonies?" I persisted. - -"Colonies! No," said he, in the same abstraction; "I am making for the -Solway, being long overdue. But what think you of this, Mr. Carvel?" - -And he held up a wondrous vellum-hole waistcoat of a gone-by vintage, -and I saw how futile it were to attempt to lead him, while in that -state of absorption, to topics which touched my affair. Of a sudden -the significance of what he had said crept over me, the word Solway -repeating itself in my mind. That firth bordered England itself, -and Dorothy was in London! I became reconciled. I had no particle of -objection to the Solway save the uneasiness my grandfather would come -through, which was beyond helping. Fate had ordered things well. - -Then I fell to applauding, while the captain tried on (for he was not -content with holding up) another frock of white drab, which, cuffs and -pockets, I'll take my oath mounted no less than twenty-four: another -plain one of pink cut-velvet; tail-coats of silk, heavily broidered with -flowers, and satin waistcoats with narrow lace. He took an inconceivable -enjoyment out of this parade, discoursing the while, like a nobleman -with nothing but dress in his head, or, perhaps, like a mastercutter, -about the turn of this or that lapel, the length from armpit to fold, -and the number of button-holes that was proper. And finally he exhibited -with evident pride a pair of doeskins that buttoned over the calf to be -worn with high shoes, which I make sure he would have tried on likewise -had he been offered the slightest encouragement. So he exploited the -whole of his wardrobe, such an unlucky assortment of finery as I never -wish to see again; all of which, however, became him marvellously, -though I think he had looked well in anything. I hope I may be forgiven -the perjury I did that day. I wondered greatly that such a foible should -crop out in a man of otherwise sound sense and plain ability. - -At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had -exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned -to me as a man come out of a trance. - -"Od's fish, Mr. Carvel," he cried, "you will be starved. I had forgot -your state." - -I owned that hunger had nigh overcome me, whereupon he became very -solicitous, bade the boy bring in supper at once, and in a short time -we sat down together to the best meal I had seen for a month. It seemed -like a year. Porridge, and bacon nicely done, and duff and ale, with the -sea rushing past the cabin windows as we ate, touched into colour by the -setting sun. Captain Paul did not mess with his mates, not he, and -he gave me to understand that I was to share his cabin, apologizing -profusely for what he was pleased to call poor fare. He would have it -that he, and not I, were receiving favour. - -"My dear sir," he said once, "you cannot know what a bit of finery is -to me, who has so little chance for the wearing of it. To discuss with -a gentleman, a connoisseur (I know a bit of French, Mr. Carvel), is a -pleasure I do not often come at." - -His simplicity in this touched me; it was pathetic. - -"How know you I am a gentleman, Captain Paul?" I asked curiously. - -"I should lack discernment, sir," he retorted, with some heat, "if -I could not see as much. Breeding shines through sack-cloth, sir. -Besides," he continued, in a milder tone, "the look of you is candour -itself. Though I have not greatly the advantage of you in age, I have -seen many men, and I know that such a face as yours cannot lie." - -Here Mr. Lowrie, the second mate, came in with a report; and I remarked -that he stood up hat in hand whilst making it, very much as if Captain -Paul commanded a frigate. The captain went to a locker and brought -forth some mellow Madeira, and after the mate had taken a glass of it -standing, he withdrew. Then we lighted pipes and sat very cosey with a -lanthorn swung between us, and Captain Paul expressed a wish to hear my -story. - -I gave him my early history briefly, dwelling but casually upon -the position enjoyed in Maryland by my family; but I spoke of my -grandfather, now turning seventy, gray-haired in the service of King -and province. The captain was indeed a most sympathetic listener, now -throwing in a question showing keen Scotch penetration, and anon making -a most ludicrous inquiry as to the dress livery our footmen wore, and -whether Mr. Carvel used outriders when he travelled abroad. This was the -other side of the man. As the wine warmed and the pipe soothed, I spoke -at length of Grafton and the rector; and when I came to the wretched -contrivance by which they got me aboard the Black Moll, he was stalking -hither and thither about the cabin, his fists clenched and his voice -thick, breaking into Scotch again and vowing that hell were too good for -such as they. - -His indignation, which seemed real and generous, transformed him into -another man. He showered question after question upon me concerning my -uncle and Mr. Allen; declared that he had known many villains, but had -yet to hear of their equals; and finally, cooling a little, gave it as -his judgment that the crime could never be brought home to them. This -was my own opinion. He advised me, before we turned in, to "gie the -parson a Grunt" as soon as ever I could lay hands upon him. - - -The John made a good voyage for that season, with fair winds and clear -skies for the most part. 'Twas a stout ship and a steady, with generous -breadth of beam, and kept by the master as clean and bright as his -porringer. He was Emperor aboard her. He spelt Command with a large C, -and when he inspected, his jacks stood to attention like man-o'-war's -men. The John mounting only four guns, and but two of them ninepounders, -I expressed my astonishment that he had dared attack a pirate craft like -the Black Moll, without knowing her condition and armament. - -"Richard," says he, impressively, for we had become very friendly, "I -would close with a thirty-two and she flew that flag. Why, sir, a bold -front is half the battle, using circumspection, of a course. A pretty -woman, whatever her airs and quality, is to be carried the same way, and -a man ought never to be frightened by appearances." - -Sometimes, at our meals, we discussed politics. But he seemed lukewarm -upon this subject. He had told me that he had a brother William in -Virginia, who was a hot Patriot. The American quarrel seemed to interest -him very little. I should like to underscore this last sentence, my -dears, in view of what comes after. What he said on the topic leaned -perhaps to the King's side, tho' he was careful to say nothing that -would give me offence. I was not surprised, for I had made a fair -guess of his ambitions. It is only honest to declare that in my soberer -moments my estimate of his character suffered. But he was a strange -man,--a genius, as I soon discovered, to rouse the most sluggish nature -to enthusiasm. - -The joy of sailing is born into some men, and those who are marked for -the sea go down thither like the very streams, to be salted. Whatever -the sign, old Stanwix was not far wrong when he read it upon me, and -'twas no great while before I was part and parcel of the ship beneath -my feet, breathing deep with her every motion. What feeling can compare -with that I tasted when the brigantine lay on her side, the silver spray -hurling over the bulwarks and stinging me to life! Or, in the watches, -to hear the sea lashing along her strakes in never ending music! I -gave MacMuir his shore suit again, and hugely delighted and astonished -Captain Paul by donning a jacket of Scotch wool and a pair of seaman's -boots, and so became a sailor myself. I had no mind to sit idle the -passage, and the love of it, as I have said, was in me. In a fortnight -I went aloft with the best of the watch to reef topsails, and trod a -foot-rope without losing head or balance, bent an easing, and could lay -hand on any lift, brace, sheet, or haulyards in the racks. John Paul -himself taught me to tack and wear ship, and MacMuir to stow a headsail. -The craft came to me, as it were, in a hand-gallop. - -At first I could make nothing of the crew, not being able to understand -a word of their Scotch; but I remarked, from the first, that they were -sour and sulky, and given to gathering in knots when the captain or -MacMuir had not the deck. For Mr. Lowrie, poor man, they had little -respect. But they plainly feared the first mate, and John Paul most of -all. Of me their suspicion knew no bounds, and they would give me -gruff answers, or none, when I spoke to them. These things roused both -curiosity and foreboding within me. - -Many a watch I paced thro' with MacMuir, big and red and kindly, and I -was not long in letting him know of the interest which Captain Paul -had inspired within me. His own feeling for him was little short of -idolatry. I had surmised much as to the rank of life from which the -captain had sprung, but my astonishment was great when I was told that -John Paul was the son of a poor gardener. - -"A gardener's son, Mr. MacMuir!" I repeated. - -"Just that," said he, solemnly, "a guid man an' haly' was auld Paul. -Unco puir, by reason o' seven bairns. I kennt the daddie weel. I mak -sma' doubt the captain'll tak ye hame wi' him, syne the mither an' -sisters still be i' the cot i' Mr. Craik's croft." - -"Tell me, MacMuir," said I, "is not the captain in some trouble?" - -For I knew that something, whatever it was, hung heavy on John Paul's -mind as we drew nearer Scotland. At times his brow would cloud and he -would fall silent in the midst of a jest. And that night, with the stars -jumping and the air biting cold (for we were up in the 40's), and the -John wish-washing through the seas at three leagues the hour, MacMuir -told me the story of Mungo Maxwell. You may read it for yourselves, my -dears, in the life of John Paul Jones. - -"Wae's me!" he said, with a heave of his big chest, "I reca' as yestreen -the night Maxwell cam aboord. The sun gaed loon a' bluidy, an' belyve -the morn rose unco mirk an' dreary, wi' bullers (rollers) frae the west -like muckle sowthers (soldiers) wi' white plumes. I tauld the captain -'twas a' the faut o' Maxwell. I ne'er cad bide the blellum. Dour an' din -he was, wi' ae girn like th' auld hornie. But the captain wadna hark to -my rede when I tauld him naught but dool wad cooin o' taking Mungo." - -It seemed that John Paul, contrary to MacMuir's advice, had shipped as -carpenter on the voyage out--near seven months since--a man by the name -of Mungo Maxwell. The captain's motive had nothing in it but kindness, -and a laudable desire to do a good turn to a playmate of his boyhood. As -MacMuir said, "they had gaed barefit thegither amang the braes." The -man hailed from Kirkbean, John Paul's own parish. But he had within -him little of the milk of kindness, being in truth a sour and mutinous -devil; and instead of the gratitude he might have shown, he cursed the -fate that had placed him under the gardener's son, whom he deemed no -better than himself. The John had scarce cleared the Solway before -Maxwell showed signs of impudence and rebellion. - -The crew was three-fourths made of Kirkcudbright men who had known the -master from childhood, many of them, indeed, being older than he; they -were mostly jealous of Paul, envious of the command he had attained -to over them, and impatient under the discipline he was ever ready to -inflict. 'Tis no light task to enforce obedience from those with whom -one has birdnested. But, having more than once felt the weight of his -hand, they feared him. - -Dissatisfaction among such spreads apace, if a leader is but given; and -Maxwell was such a one. His hatred for John Paul knew no bounds, and, -having once tasted of his displeasure, he lay awake o' nights scheming -to ruin him. And this was the plot: when the Azores should be in the -wake, Captain Paul was to be murdered as he paced his quarterdeck in the -morning, the two mates clapt into irons, and so brought to submission. -And Maxwell, who had no more notion of navigation than a carpenter -should, was to take the John to God knows where,--the Guinea coast, -most probably. He would have no more navy regulations on a merchant -brigantine, he promised them, nor banyan days, for the matter o' that. - -Happily, MacMuir himself discovered the affair on the eve of its -perpetration, overhearing two men talking in the breadroom, and he -ran to the cabin with the sweat standing out on his forehead. But the -captain would have none of the precautions he urged; declared he would -walk the deck as usual, and vowed he could cope single-handed with a -dozen cowards like Maxwell. Sure enough, at crowdie-time, the men were -seen coming aft, with Maxwell in the van carrying a bowl, on the pretext -of a complaint against the cook. - -"John Paul," said MacMuir, with admiration in his voice and gesture, -"John Paul wasna feart a pickle, but gaed to the mast, whyles I stannt -chittering i' my claes, fearfu' for his life. He teuk the horns from -Mungo, priet (tasted) a soup o' the crowdie, an' wi' that he seiz't haut -o' the man by baith shouthers ere the blastie (scoundrel) raught for 's -knife. My aith upo't, sir, the lave (rest) o' the batch cowert frae his -e'e for a' the wand like thumpit tykes.'" - -So ended that mutiny, by the brave act of a brave man. The carpenter -was clapt into irons himself, and given no less of the cat-o'-nine-tails -than was good for him, and properly discharged at Tobago with such as -had supported him. But he brought Captain Paul before the vice-admiralty -court of that place, charging him with gross cruelty, and this -proceeding had delayed the brigantine six months from her homeward -voyage, to the great loss of her owners. And tho' at length the captain -was handsomely acquitted, his character suffered unjustly, for there -lacked not those who put their own interpretation upon the affair. He -would most probably lose the brigantine. "He expected as much," said -MacMuir. - -"There be mony aboord," he concluded, with a sigh, "as'll muckle gash -(gossip) when we win to Kirkcudbright." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. A SAD HOME-COMING - -Mr. Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, the Dumfries bo'sun, both of whom would -have died for the captain, assured me of the truth of MacMuir's story, -and shook their heads gravely as to the probable outcome. The peculiar -water-mark of greatness that is woven into some men is often enough -to set their own community bitter against them. Sandie, the plodding -peasant, finds it a hard matter to forgive Jamie, who is taken from the -plough next to his, and ends in Parliament. The affair of Mungo Maxwell, -altered to suit, had already made its way on more than one vessel to -Scotland. For according to Lowrie, there was scarce a man or woman in -Kirkcudbrightshire who did not know that John Paul was master of the -John, and (in their hearts) that he would be master of more in days to -come. Human nature is such that they resented it, and cried out aloud -against his cruelty. - -On the voyage I had many sober thoughts of my own to occupy me of the -terrible fate, from which, by Divine inter position, I had been rescued; -of the home I had left behind. I was all that remained to Mr. Carvel in -the world, and I was sure that he had given me up for dead. How had he -sustained the shock? I saw him heavily mounting the stairs upon Scipicks -arm when first the news was brought to him. Next Grafton would come -hurrying in from Kent to Marlboro Street, disavowing all knowledge of -the messenger from New York, and intent only upon comforting his father. -And when I pictured my uncle soothing him to his face, and grinning -behind his bed-curtains, my anger would scald me, and the realization of -my helplessness bring tears of very bitterness. - -What would I not have given then for one word with that honest and -faithful friend of our family, Captain Daniel! I knew that he suspected -Grafton: he had told me as much that night at the Coffee House. Perhaps -the greatest of my fears was that my uncle would deny him access to Mr. -Carvel when he returned from the North. - -In the evening, when the sun settled red upon the horizon, I would think -of Patty and my friends in Gloucester Street. For I knew they missed me -sadly of a Sunday at the supper-table. But it has ever been my nature -to turn forward instead of back, and to accept the twists and flings of -fortune with hope rather than with discouragement. And so, as we left -league after, league of the blue ocean behind us, I would set my face to -the forecastle. For Dorothy was in England. - -On a dazzling morning in March, with the brigantine running like a -beagle in full cry before a heaping sea that swayed her body,--so I -beheld for the first time the misty green of the high shores of Ireland. -Ah! of what heroes' deeds was I capable as I watched the lines come -out in bold relief from a wonderland of cloud! With what eternal life I -seemed to tingle! 'Twas as though I, Richard Carvel, had discovered all -this colour; and when a tiny white speck of a cottage came out on the -edge of the cliff, I thought irresistibly of the joy to live there the -year round with Dorothy, with the wind whistling about our gables, and -the sea thundering on the rocks far below. Youth is in truth a mystery. - -How long I was gazing at the shifting coast I know not, for a strange -wildness was within me that made me forget all else, until suddenly -I became conscious of a presence at my side, and turned to behold the -captain. - -"'Tis a braw sight, Richard," said he, "but no sae bonnie as auld -Scotland. An' the wind hands, we shall see her shores the morn." - -His voice broke, and I looked again to see two great tears rolling upon -his cheeks. - -"Ah, Scotland!" he pressed on, heedless of them, "God aboon kens what -she is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie." And he -walked to the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men who -had come aft to splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. I -followed him, emboldened to speak at last what was in me. - -"Captain Paul," said I, "MacMuir has told me of your trouble. My -grandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,"--here I paused for -suitable words, as I could not solve his expression,--"you, sir, whose -bravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want for -friends and money." - -He heard me through. - -"Mr. Carvel," he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback, -"reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen." - -And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentioned -money. And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor less -than a master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the common -in such a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affection -for him been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I had -laughed over his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that when -I had reached London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should be -rewarded despite his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should have -one of my grandfather's. - -But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had more -cause than ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence and -aloofness. He talked gayly on a score of subjects,--on dress, of which -he was never tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America, -in a fashion that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nor -did he lack for wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had wined -him, and had me much in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth, -jingling the glasses in many toasts, for he had a list of healths to -make me gasp, near as long as the brigantine's articles,--Inez in Havana -and Maraquita in Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, each -had her separate charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relict -of a customs official, Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto a -midnight brush with a lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fair -widow figured, and showed her preference, too. But his adoration for the -ladies of the more northern colonies, he would have me to understand, -was unbounded. For example, Miss Arabella Pope of Norfolk, in -Virginia,--and did I know her? No, I had not that pleasure, though I -assured him the Popes of Virginia were famed. Miss Pope danced divinely -as any sylph, and the very memory of her tripping at the Norfolk -Assembly roused the captain to such a pitch of enthusiasm as I had never -seen in him. Marvellous to say, his own words failed him, and he had -recourse to the poets: - - "Her feet beneath her petticoat - Like little mice stole in and out, - As if they feared the light; - But, oh, she dances such a way! - No sun upon an Easter-day - Is half so fine a sight." - -The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave them -standing, in excellent voice and elegant gesture. - -He was in particular partial to the poets, could quote at will from Gay -and Thomson and Goldsmith and Gray, and even from Shakespeare, much -to my own astonishment and humiliation. Saving only Dr. Courtenay -of Annapolis I had never met his equal for versatility of speech and -command of fine language; and, having heard that he had been at sea -since the age of twelve, I made bold to ask him at what school he had -got his knowledge. - -"At none, Richard," he answered with pride, "saving the rudiments at the -Parish School at Kirkbean. Why, sir, I hold it to be within every -man's province to make himself what he will, and I early recognized in -Learning the only guide for such as me. I may say that I married her for -the furtherance of my fortunes, and have come to love her for her own -sake. Many and many the 'tween-watch have I passed in a coil of rope in -the tops, a volume of the classics in my hand. And 'my happiest days, -when not at sea, have been spent in my brother William's little library. -He hath a modest estate near Fredericksburg, in Virginia, and none holds -higher than he the worth of an education. Ah, Richard," he added, with -a certain sadness, "I fear you little know the value of that which hath -been so lavishly bestowed upon you. There is no creation in the world to -equal your fine gentleman!" - -It struck me indeed as strange that a man of his powers should set store -by such trumpery, and, too, that these notions had not impaired his -ability as a seaman. I did not reply. He gave no heed, however, but drew -from a case a number of odes and compositions, which he told me were -his own. They were addressed to various of his enamouritas, abounded in -orrery, and were all, I make no doubt, incredibly fine, tho' not so -much as one sticks in my mind. To speak truth I listened with a very ill -grace, longing the while to be on deck, for we were about to sight the -Isle of Man. The wine and the air of the cabin had made my eyes heavy. -But presently, when he had run through with some dozen or more, he put -them by, and with a quick motion got from his chair, a light coming into -his dark eyes that startled me to attention. And I forgot the merchant -captain, and seemed to be looking forward into the years. - -"Mark you, Richard," said he, "mark well when I say that my time will -come, and a day when the best of them will bow to me. And every ell of -that triumph shall be mine, sir,-ay, every inch!" - -Such was his force, which sprang from some hidden fire within him, that -I believed his words as firmly as they had been writ down in the Book of -Isaiah. Brimming over with enthusiasm, I pledged his coming greatness in -a reaming glass of Malaga. - -"Alack," he cried, "an' they all had your faith, laddie, a fig for the -prophecy! Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle." - -There was more of wisdom in this than I dreamed of then. Here lay hid -the very keynote of that ambitious character: he stooped to nothing less -than greatness for a triumph over his slanderers. - -I rose betimes the next morning to find the sun peeping above the -wavy line of the Scottish hills far up the. Solway, and the brigantine -sliding smoothly along in the lee of the Galloway Rhinns. And, though -the month was March, the slopes of Burrow Head were green as the lawn of -Carvel Hall in May, and the slanting rays danced on the ruffed water. By -eight of the clock we had crept into Kirkcudbright Bay and anchored off -St. Mary's Isle, the tide running ebb, and leaving a wide brown belt of -sand behind it. - -St. Mary's Isle! As we looked upon it that day, John Paul and I, and -it lay low against the bright water with its bare oaks and chestnuts -against the dark pines, 'twas perhaps as well that the future was sealed -to us. - -Captain Paul had conned the brigantine hither with a master's hand; but -now that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I had -donned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangway -when the captain approached me. - -"What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?" he asked kindly. - -What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent upon -my benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept any -return I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him again -for his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him I -should be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage to -London upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affection -for him having grown-past my understanding. - -"Hoots!" he replied, moved in his turn, "whyles I hae siller ye shallna -lack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station." - -And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me be -ready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewell -to MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For the -honest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speech -when he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it. - -"But you will be needing it, MacMuir," I said, suspecting he had no -other. - -"Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the claw -frae London, wi' this geordie." - -He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take; -and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into the -stern of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through the -little fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck for -a parting look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainly -shoulders over the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted a -hearty "God speed" after me. - -As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at the -mouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on the -wharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got within -twenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchief -called out: - -"What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?" - -"CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie," spoke up a coarse fellow with a -rough beard. And a laugh went round. - -"Ay, captain! I'll captain him!" screamed the carlin, pushing to -the front as the oars were tossed, "I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll be -captaining him for his towmond voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for ye -noo, John Paul." With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceiving -that matters were likely to go ill with the captain, began to chaff -with their friends above. The respect with which he had inspired them, -however, prevented any overt insult on their part. As for me, my temper -had flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by -instinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The -beldame saw the motion. - -"An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin -gowk?" - -The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant -violence,--nothing less. But they had counted without their man, for -Paul was born to ride greater crises. With his lips set in a line he -stepped lightly out of the boat into their very midst, and they looked -into his eyes to forget time and place. MacMuir had told me how those -eyes could conquer mutiny, but I had not believed had I trot been -thereto see the pack of them give back in sullen wonder. And so we -walked through and on to the little street beyond, and never a word from -the captain until we came opposite the sign of the Hurcheon." - -"Do you await me here, Richard," he said quite calmly; "I mast seek Mr. -Currie, and make my report." - -I have still the remembrance of that pitiful day in the clean little -village. I went into the inn and sat down upon an oak settle in a corner -of the bar, under the high lattice, and thought of the bitterness of -this home-coming. If I was amongst strangers, he was amongst worse: -verily, to have one's own people set against one is heaviness of heart -to a man whose love of Scotland was great as John Paul's. After a while -the place began to fill, Willie and Robbie and Jamie arriving to discuss -Paul's return over their nappy. The little I could make of their talk -was not to my liking, but for the captain's sake I kept my anger under -as best I could, for I had the sense to know that brawling with a lot -of alehouse frequenters would not advance his cause. At length, however, -came in the same sneering fellow I had marked on the wharf, calling -loudly for swats. "Ay, Captain Paul was noo at Mr. Curries, syne banie -Alan seed him gang forbye the kirk." The speaker's name, I learned, was -Davie, and he had been talking with each and every man in the long-boat. -Yes, Mungo Maxwell had been cat-o'-ninetailed within an inch of his -life; and that was the truth; for a trifling offence, too; and cruelly -discharged at some outlandish port because, forsooth, he would not -accept the gospel of the divinity of Captain Paul. He would as soon sign -papers with the devil. - -This Davie was gifted with a dangerous kind of humour which I have -heard called innuendo, and he soon had the bar packed with listeners who -laughed and cursed turn about, filling the room to a closeness scarce -supportable. And what between the foul air and my resentment, and -apprehension lest John Paul would come hither after me, I was in -prodigious discomfort of body and mind. But there was no pushing my way -through them unnoticed, wedged as I was in a far corner; so I sat still -until unfortunately, or fortunately, the eye of Davie chanced to fall -upon me, and immediately his yellow face lighted malignantly. - -"Oh! here be the gentleman the captain's brocht hame!" he cried, -emphasizing the two words; "as braw a gentleman as eer taen frae -pirates, an' nae doubt sin to ae bien Buckskin bonnet-laird." - -I saw through his game of getting satisfaction out of John Paul thro' -goading me, and determined he should have his fill of it. For, all in -all, he had me mad enough to fight three times over. - -"Set aside the gentleman," said I, standing up and taking off MacMuir's -coat, "and call me a lubberly clout like yourself, and we will see which -is the better clout." I put off the longsleeved jacket, and faced him -with my fists doubled, crying: "I'll teach you, you spawn of a dunghill, -to speak ill of a good man!" - -A clamour of "Fecht! fecht!" arose, and some of them applauded me, -calling me a "swankie," which I believe is a compliment. A certain sense -of fairness is often to be found where least expected. They capsized -the fat, protesting browsterwife over her own stool, and were pulling -Jamie's coat from his back, when I began to suspect that a fight was not -to the sniveller's liking. Indeed, the very look of him made me laugh -out--'twas now as mild as a summer's morn. - -"Wow," says Jamie, "ye maun fecht wi' a man o' yere ain size." - -"I'll lay a guinea that we weigh even," said I; and suddenly remembered -that I had not so much as tuppence to bless me. - -Happily he did not accept the wager. In huge disgust they hustled him -from the inn and put forward the blacksmith, who was standing at the -door in his leather apron. Now I had not bargained with the smith, who -seemed a well-natured enough man, and grinned broadly at the prospect. -But they made a ring on the floor, I going over it at one end, and he -at the other, when a cry came from the street, those about the entrance -parted, and in walked John Paul himself. At sight of him my new -adversary, who was preparing to deal me out a blow to fell an ox, -dropped his arms in surprise, and held out his big hand. - -"Haith! John Paul," he shouted heartily, forgetting me, "'tis blythe I -am to see yere bonnie face ance mair! - -"An' wha are ye, Jamie Darrell," said the captain, "to be bangin' yere -betters? Dinna ye ken gentry when ye see't?" - -A puzzled look spread over the smith's grimy face. - -"Gentry!" says he; "nae gentry that I ken, John Paul. Th' fecht be but a -bit o' fun, an' nane o' my seekin'." - -"What quarrel is this, Richard?" says John Paul to me. - -"In truth I have no quarrel with this honest man," I replied; "I desired -but the pleasure of beating a certain evil-tongued Davie, who seems to -have no stomach for blows, and hath taken his lies elsewhere." - -So quiet was the place that the tinkle of the guidwife's needle, which -she had dropped to the flags, sounded clear to all. John Paul stood in -the middle of the ring, erect, like a man inspired, and the same strange -sense of prophecy that had stirred my blood crept over him and awed the -rest, as tho' 'twere suddenly given to see him, not as he was, but as he -would be. Then he spoke. - -"You, who are my countrymen, who should be my oldest and best friends, -are become my enemies. You who were companions of my childhood are -revilers of my manhood; you have robbed me of my good name and my -honour, of my ship, of my very means of livelihood, and you are not -content; you would rob me of my country, which I hold dearer than all. -And I have never done you evil, nor spoken aught against you. As for -the man Maxwell, whose part you take, his child is starving in your very -midst, and you have not lifted your hands. 'Twas for her sake I shipped -him, and none other. May God forgive you! He alone sees the bitterness -in my heart this day. He alone knows my love for Scotland, and what it -costs me to renounce her." - -He had said so much with an infinite sadness, and I read a response in -the eyes of more than one of his listeners, the guidwife weeping aloud. -But now his voice rose, and he ended with a fiery vigour. - -"Renounce her I do," he cried, "now and forevermore! Henceforth I am -no countryman of yours. And if a day of repentance should come for this -evil, remember well what I have said to you." - -They stood for a moment when he had finished, shifting uneasily, their -tongues gone, like lads caught in a lie. I think they felt his greatness -then, and had any one of them possessed the nobility to come forward -with an honest word, John Paul might yet have been saved to Scotland. -As it was, they slunk away in twos and threes, leaving at last only the -good smith with us. He was not a man of talk, and the tears had washed -the soot from his face in two white furrows. - -"Ye'll hae a waught wi' me afore ye gang, John," he said clumsily, "for -th' morns we've paddl' 't thegither i' th' Nith." - -The ale was brought by the guidwife, who paused, as she put it down, to -wipe her eyes with her apron. She gave John Paul one furtive glance and -betook herself again to her knitting with a sigh, speech having failed -her likewise. The captain grasped up his mug. - -"May God bless you, Jamie," he said. - -"Ye'll be gaen noo to see the mither," said Jamie, after a long space. - -"Ay, for the last time. An', Jamie, ye'll see that nae harm cams to her -when I'm far awa'?" - -The smith promised, and also agreed to have John Paul's chests sent by -wagon, that very day, to Dumfries. And we left him at his forge, his -honest breast torn with emotion, looking after us. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. THE GARDENER'S COTTAGE - -So we walked out of the village, with many a head craned after us and -many an eye peeping from behind a shutter, and on into the open highway. -The day was heavenly bright, the wind humming around us and playing mad -pranks with the white cotton clouds, and I forgot awhile the pity within -me to wonder at the orderly look of the country, the hedges with never a -stone out of place, and the bars always up. The ground was parcelled off -in such bits as to make me smile when I remembered our own wide tracts -in the New World. Here waste was sin: with us part and parcel of a -creed. I marvelled, too, at the primness and solidity of the houses -along the road, and remarked how their lines belonged rather to the -landscape than to themselves. But I was conscious ever of a strange wish -to expand, for I felt as tho' I were in the land of the Liliputians, -and the thought of a gallop of forty miles or so over these honeycombed -fields brought me to a laugh. But I was yet to see some estates of the -gentry. - -I had it on my tongue's tip to ask the captain whither he was taking -me, yet dared not intrude on the sorrow that still gripped him. Time -and time we met people plodding along, some of them nodding uncertainly, -others abruptly taking the far side of the pike, and every encounter -drove the poison deeper into his soul. But after we had travelled some -way, up hill and down dale, he vouchsafed the intelligence that we were -making for Arbigland, Mr. Craik's seat near Dumfries, which lies on the -Nith twenty miles or so up the Solway from Kirkcudbright. On that estate -stood the cottage where John Paul was born, and where his mother and -sisters still dwelt. - -"I'll juist be saying guidbye, Richard," he said; "and leave them a -bit siller I hae saved, an' syne we'll be aff to London thegither, for -Scotland's no but a cauld kintra." - -"You are going to London with me?" I cried. - -"Ay," answered he; "this is hame nae mair for John Paul." - -I made bold to ask how the John's owners had treated him. - -"I have naught to complain of, laddie," he answered; "both Mr. Beck and -Mr. Currie bore the matter of the admiralty court and the delay like the -gentlemen they are. They well know that I am hard driven when I resort -to the lash. They were both sore at losing me, and says Mr. Beck: I -We'll not soon get another to keep the brigantine like a man-o'-war, as -did you, John Paul.' I thanked him, and told him I had sworn never to -take another merchantman out of the Solway. And I will keep that oath." - -He sighed, and added that he never hoped for better owners. In token -of which he drew a certificate of service from his pocket, signed by -Messrs. Currie and Beck, proclaiming him the best master and supercargo -they had ever had in their service. I perceived that talk lightened him, -and led him on. I inquired how he had got the 'John'. - -"I took passage on her from Kingston, laddie. On the trip both Captain -Macadam and the chief mate died of the fever. And it was I, the -passenger, who sailed her into Kirkcudbright, tho' I had never been more -than a chief mate before. That is scarce three years gone, when I was -just turned one and twenty. And old Mr. Currie, who had known my father, -was so pleased that he gave me the ship. I had been chief mate of the -'Two Friends', a slaver out of Kingston." - -"And so you were in that trade!" I exclaimed. - -He seemed to hesitate. - -"Yes," he replied, "and sorry I am to say it. But a man must live. It -was no place for a gentleman, and I left of my own accord. Before that, -I was on a slaver out of Whitehaven." - -"You must know Whitehaven, then." - -I said it only to keep the talk going, but I remembered the remark long -after. - -"I do," said he. "'Tis a fair sample of an English coast town. And I -have often thought, in the event of war with France, how easy 'twould -be for Louis's cruisers to harry the place, and an hundred like it, and -raise such a terror as to keep the British navy at home." - -I did not know at the time that this was the inspiration of an admiral -and of a genius. The subject waned. And as familiar scenes jogged his -memory, he launched into Scotch and reminiscence. Every barn he knew, -and cairn and croft and steeple recalled stories of his boyhood. - -We had long been in sight of Criffel, towering ahead of us, whose summit -had beckoned for cycles to Helvellyn and Saddleback looming up to the -southward, marking the wonderland of the English lakes. And at length, -after some five hours of stiff walking, we saw the brown Nith below -us going down to meet the Solway, and so came to the entrance of Mr. -Craik's place. The old porter recognized Paul by a mere shake of the -head and the words, "Yere back, are ye?" and a lowering of his bushy -white eyebrows. We took a by-way to avoid the manor-house, which stood -on the rising ground twixt us and the mountain, I walking close to John -Paul's shoulder and feeling for him at every step. Presently, at a turn -of the path, we were brought face to face with an elderly gentleman in -black, and John Paul stopped. - -"Mr. Craik!" he said, removing his hat. - -But the gentleman only whistled to his dogs and went on. - -"My God, even he!" exclaimed the captain, bitterly; "even he, who -thought so highly of my father!" - -A hundred yards more and we came to the little cottage nigh hid among -the trees. John Paul paused a moment, his hand upon the latch of the -gate, his eyes drinking in the familiar picture. The light of day was -dying behind Criffel, and the tiny panes of the cottage windows pulsed -with the rosy flame on the hearth within, now flaring, and again -deepening. He sighed. He walked with unsteady step to the door and -pushed it open. I followed, scarce knowing what I did, halted at the -threshold and drew back, for I had been upon holy ground. - -John Paul was kneeling upon the flags by the ingleside, his face buried -on the open Bible in his mother's lap. Her snowy-white head was bent -upon his, her tears running fast, and her lips moving in silent prayer -to Him who giveth and taketh away. Verily, here in this humble place -dwelt a love that defied the hard usage of a hard world! - -After a space he came to the door and called, and took me by the hand, -and I went in with him. Though his eyes were wet, he bore himself like a -cavalier. - -"Mother, this is Mr. Richard Carvell heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland,--a -young gentleman whom I have had the honour to rescue from a slaver." - -I bowed low, such was my respect for Dame Paul, and she rose and -curtseyed. She wore a widow's cap and a black gown, and I saw in her -deep-lined face a resemblance to her son. - -"Madam," I said, the title coming naturally, "I owe Captain Paul a debt -I can never repay." - -"An' him but a laddie!" she cried. "I'm thankful, John, I'm thankful for -his mither that ye saved him." - -"I have no mother, Madam Paul," said I, "and my father was killed in the -French war. But I have a grandfather who loves me dearly as I love him." - -Some impulse brought her forward, and she took both my hands in her own. - -"Ye'll forgive an auld woman, sir," she said, with a dignity that -matched her son's, "but ye're sae young, an' ye hae sic a leuk in yere -bonny gray e'e that I ken yell aye be a true friend o' John's. He's been -a guid sin to me, an' ye maunna reek what they say o' him." - -When now I think of the triumph John Paul has achieved, of the scoffing -world he has brought to his feet, I cannot but recall that sorrowful -evening in the gardener's cottage, when a son was restored but to -be torn away. The sisters came in from their day's work,--both -well-favoured lasses, with John's eyes and hair,--and cooked the simple -meal of broth and porridge, and the fowl they had kept so long against -the captain's home-coming. He carved with many a light word that cost -him dear. Did Janet reca' the simmer nights they had supped here, wi' -the bumclocks bizzin' ower the candles? And was Nancy, the cow, still -i' the byre? And did the bees still give the same bonnie hiney, and were -the red apples still in the far orchard? Ay, Meg had thocht o' him that -autumn, and ran to fetch them with her apron to her face, to come back -smiling through her tears. So it went; and often a lump would rise in -my throat that I could not eat, famished as I was, and the mother and -sisters scarce touched a morsel of the feast. - -The one never failing test of a son, my dears, lies in his treatment of -his mother, and from that hour forth I had not a doubt of John Paul. He -was a man who had seen the world and become, in more than one meaning of -the word, a gentleman. Whatever foibles he may have had, he brought no -conscious airs and graces to this lowly place, but was again the humble -gardener's boy. - -But time pressed, as it ever does. The hour came for us to leave, John -Paul firmly refusing to remain the night in a house that belonged to Mr. -Craik. Of the tenderness, nay, of the pity and cruelty of that parting, -I have no power to write. We knelt with bowed heads while the mother -prayed for the son, expatriated, whom she never hoped to see again on -this earth. She gave us bannocks of her own baking, and her last words -were to implore me always to be a friend to John Paul. - -Then we went out into the night and walked all the way to Dumfries in -silence. - -We lay that night at the sign of the "Twa Naigs," where Bonnie Prince -Charlie had rested in the Mars year(1715). Before I went to bed I called -for pen and paper, and by the light of a tallow dip sat down to compose -a letter to my grandfather, telling him that I was alive and well, and -recounting as much of my adventures as I could. I said that I was going -to London, where I would see Mr. Dix, and would take passage thence for -America. I prayed that he had been able to bear up against the ordeal of -my disappearance. I dwelt upon the obligations I was under to John -Paul, relating the misfortunes of that worthy seaman (which he so little -deserved!). And said that it was my purpose to bring him to Maryland -with me, where I knew Mr. Carvel would reward him with one of his ships, -explaining that he would accept no money. But when it came to accusing -Grafton and the rector, I thought twice, and bit the end of the feather. -The chances were so great that my grandfather would be in bed and under -the guardianship of my uncle that I forbore, and resolved instead to -write it to Captain Daniel at my first opportunity. - -I arose early to discover a morning gray and drear, with a mist falling -to chill the bones. News travels apace the world over, and that of John -Paul's home-coming and of his public renunciation of Scotland at the -"Hurcheon" had reached Dumfries in good time, substantiated by the -arrival of the teamster with the chests the night before. I descended -into the courtyard in time to catch the captain in his watchet-blue -frock haggling with the landlord for a chaise, the two of them -surrounded by a muttering crowd anxious for a glimpse of Mr. Craik's -gardener's son, for he had become a nine-day sensation to the country -round about. But John Paul minded them not so much as a swarm of flies, -and the teamster's account of the happenings at Kirkcudbright had given -them so wholesome a fear of his speech and presence as to cause them to -misdoubt their own wit, which is saying a deal of Scotchmen. But when -the bargain had been struck and John Paul gone with the 'ostler to see -to his chests, mine host thought it a pity not to have a fall out of me. - -"So ye be the Buckskin laud," he said, with a wink at a leering group of -farmers; "ye hae braw gentles in America." - -He was a man of sixty or thereabout, with a shrewd but not unkindly face -that had something familiar in it. - -"You have discernment indeed to recognize a gentleman in Scotch -clothes," I replied, turning the laugh on him. - -"Dinna raise ae Buckskin, Mr. Rawlinson," said a man in corduroy. - -"Rawlinson!" I exclaimed at random, "there is one of your name in the -colonies who knows his station better." - -"Trowkt!" cried mine host, "ye ken Ivie o' Maryland, Ivie my brither?" - -"He is my grandfather's miller at Carvel Hall," I said. - -"Syne ye maun be nane ither than Mr. Richard Carvel. Yere servan', Mr. -Carvel," and he made me a low bow, to the great dropping of jaws round -about, and led me into the inn. With trembling hands he took a packet -from his cabinet and showed me the letters, twenty-three in all, which -Ivie had written home since he had gone out as the King's passenger in -'45. The sight of them brought tears to my eyes and carried me out -of the Scotch mist back to dear old Maryland. I had no trouble in -convincing mine host that I was the lad eulogized in the scrawls, and -he put hand on the very sheet which announced my birth, nineteen years -since,--the fourth generation of Carvels Ivie had known. - -So it came that the captain and I got the best chaise and pair in place -of the worst, and sat down to a breakfast such as was prepared only for -my Lord Selkirk when he passed that way, while I told the landlord of -his brother; and as I talked I remembered the day I had caught the arm -of the mill and gone the round, to find that Ivie had written of that, -too! - -After that our landlord would not hear of a reckoning. I might stay a -month, a year, at the "Twa Naigs" if I wished. As for John Paul, who -seemed my friend, he would say nothing, only to advise me privately that -the man was queer company, shaking his head when I defended him. He came -to me with ten guineas, which he pressed me to take for Ivies sake, and -repay when occasion offered. I thanked him, but was of no mind to accept -money from one who thought ill of my benefactor. - -The refusal of these recalled the chaise, and I took the trouble to -expostulate with the captain on that score, pointing out as delicately -as I might that, as he had brought me to Scotland, I held it within my -right to incur the expense of the trip to London, and that I intended -to reimburse him when I saw Mr. Dix. For I knew that his wallet was not -over full, since he had left the half of his savings with his mother. -Much to my secret delight, he agreed to this as within the compass of a -gentleman's acceptance. Had he not, I had the full intention of leaving -him to post it alone, and of offering myself to the master of the first -schooner. - -Despite the rain, and the painful scenes gone through but yesterday, and -the sour-looking ring of men and women gathered to see the start, I -was in high spirits as we went spinning down the Carlisle road, with my -heart leaping to the crack of the postilion's whip. - -I was going to London and to Dorothy! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. ON THE ROAD - -Many were the ludicrous incidents we encountered on our journey to -London. As long as I live, I shall never forget John Paul's alighting -upon the bridge of the Sark to rid himself of a mighty farewell address -to Scotland he had been composing upon the road. And this he delivered -with such appalling voice and gesture as to frighten to a standstill a -chaise on the English side of the stream, containing a young gentleman -in a scarlet coat and a laced hat, and a young lady who sobbed as we -passed them. They were, no doubt, running to Gretna Green to be married. - -Captain Paul, as I have said, was a man of moods, and strangely affected -by ridicule. And this we had in plenty upon the road. Landlords, grooms, -and'ostlers, and even our own post-boys, laughed and jested coarsely -at his sky-blue frock, and their sallies angered him beyond all reason, -while they afforded me so great an amusement that more than once I was -on the edge of a serious falling-out with him as a consequence of my -merriment. Usually, when we alighted from our vehicle, the expression -of mine host would sour, and his sir would shift to a master; while his -servants would go trooping in again, with many a coarse fling that they -would get no vails from such as we. And once we were invited into the -kitchen. He would be soar for half a day at a spell after a piece of -insolence out of the common, and then deliver me a solemn lecture upon -the advantages of birth in a manor. Then his natural buoyancy would -lift him again, and he would be in childish ecstasies at the prospect of -getting to London, and seeing the great world; and I began to think that -he secretly cherished the hope of meeting some of its votaries. For -I had told him, casually as possible, that I had friends in Arlington -Street, where I remembered the Manners were established. - -"Arlington Street!" he repeated, rolling the words over his tongue; "it -has a fine sound, laddie, a fine sound. That street must be the very -acme of fashion." - -I laughed, and replied that I did not know. And at the ordinary of the -next inn we came to, he took occasion to mention to me, in a louder -voice than was necessary, that I would do well to call in Arlington -Street as we went into town. So far as I could see, the remark did not -compel any increase of respect from our fellow-diners. - -Upon more than one point I was worried. Often and often I reflected that -some hitch might occur to prevent my getting money promptly from Mr. -Dix. Days would perchance elapse before I could find the man in such -a great city as London; he might be out of town at this season, Easter -being less than a se'nnight away. For I had heard my grandfather say -that the elder Mr. Dix had a house in some merchant's suburb, and loved -to play at being a squire before he died. Again (my heart stood at -the thought), the Manners might be gone back to America. I cursed the -stubborn pride which had led the captain to hire a post-chaise, when -the wagon had served us so much better, and besides relieved him of -the fusillade of ridicule he got travelling as a gentleman. But such -reflections always ended in my upbraiding myself for blaming him whose -generosity had rescued me from perhaps a life-long misery. - -But, on the whole, we rolled southward happily, between high walls and -hedges, past trim gardens and fields and meadows, and I marvelled at -the regular, park-like look of the country, as though stamped from one -design continually recurring, like our butter at Carvel Hall. The roads -were sometimes good, and sometimes as execrable as a colonial byway in -winter, with mud up to the axles. And yet, my heart went out to this -country, the home of my ancestors. Spring was at hand; the ploughboys -whistled between the furrows, the larks circled overhead, and the lilacs -were cautiously pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with the -perfume of living things. - -The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scanty -indeed, and more than once we were told to go farther down the street, -that the inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind was -troubled about John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to the -best hotels in the larger towns, declaring that there we should meet the -people of fashion. Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered that -such people never came to the ordinary, but were served in their own -rooms by their own servants. - -"I shall know them yet," he would vow, as we started off of a morning, -after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. "Am -I not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a difficulty -many before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the history, and -the poets. And the French language, though I have never made the grand -tour. I flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By the help of your -friends, I shall have a title or two for acquaintances before I leave -London; and when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I know of who -will give me employment, if I have not obtained preferment." - -The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And I -had not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was, -I knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier for -a camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross the -thresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers is -hard, and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name. - -"We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul," I said, "and waste no -time upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James's -and the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchance -his Majesty himself," I added, attempting merriment, for the notion -of seeing Dolly only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knew -nothing of Dolly. - -"So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you," he said reproachfully. -"Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can make -friends without going to Arlington Street." - -I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech. - -"And a time will come when they shall know me," he went on. "If they -insult me now they shall pay dearly for it." - -"My dear captain," I cried; "nobody will insult you, and least of all my -friends, the Manners." I had my misgivings about little Mr. Marmaduke. -"But we are, neither of us, equipped for a London season. I am but an -unknown provincial, and you--" I paused for words. - -For a sudden realization had come upon me that our positions were now -reversed. It seemed strange that I should be interpreting the world to -this man of power. - -"And I?" he repeated bitterly. - -"You have first to become an admiral," I replied, with inspiration; -"Drake was once a common seaman." - -He did not answer. But that evening as we came into Windsor, I perceived -that he had not abandoned his intentions. The long light flashed on -the peaceful Thames, and the great, grim castle was gilded all over its -western side. - -The captain leaned out of the window. - -"Postilion," he called, "which inn here is most favoured by gentlemen?" - -"The Castle," said the boy, turning in his saddle to grin at me. "But if -I might be so bold as to advise your honour, the 'Swan' is a comfortable -house, and well attended." - -"Know your place, sirrah," shouted the captain, angrily, "and drive us -to the 'Castle.'" - -The boy snapped his whip disdainfully, and presently pulled us up at the -inn, our chaise covered with the mud of three particular showers we had -run through that day. And, as usual, the landlord, thinking he was about -to receive quality, came scraping to the chaise door, only to turn with -a gesture of disgust when he perceived John Paul's sea-boxes tied on -behind, and the costume of that hero, as well as my own. - -The captain demanded a room. But mine host had turned his back, when -suddenly a thought must have struck him, for he wheeled again. - -"Stay," he cried, glancing suspiciously at the sky-blue frock; "if you -are Mr. Dyson's courier, I have reserved a suite." - -This same John Paul, who was like iron with mob and mutiny, was pitiably -helpless before such a prop of the aristocracy. He flew into a rage, -and rated the landlord in Scotch and English, and I was fain to put my -tongue in my cheek and turn my back that my laughter might not anger him -the more. - -And so I came face to face with another smile, behind a spying-glass,--a -smile so cynical and unpleasant withal that my own was smothered. A -tall and thin gentleman, who had come out of the inn without a hat, was -surveying the dispute with a keen delight. He was past the middle age. -His clothes bore that mark which distinguishes his world from the other, -but his features were so striking as to hold my attention unwittingly. - -After a while he withdrew his glass, cast one look at me which might -have meant anything, and spoke up. - -"Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting a -gentleman to your house?" - -I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, or -I. Goble bowed at the speaker. - -"A gentleman, your honour!" he gasped. "Your honour is joking again. -Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor the -longshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan.'" - -"Jews' finery!" shouted the captain, with his fingers on his sword. - -But the stranger held up a hand deprecatingly. - -"'Pon my oath, Goble, I gave you credit for more penetration," he -drawled; "you may be right about the Scotchman, but your longshore lout -has had both birth and breeding, or I know nothing." - -John Paul, who was in the act of bowing to the speaker, remained -petrified with his hand upon his heart, entirely discomfited. The -landlord forsook him instantly for me, then stole a glance at his guest -to test his seriousness, and looked at my face to see how greatly it -were at variance with my clothes. The temptation to lay hands on the -cringing little toadeater grew too strong for me, and I picked him up -by the scruff of the collar,--he was all skin and bones,--and spun him -round like a corpse upon a gibbet, while he cried mercy in a voice to -wake the dead. The slim gentleman under the sign laughed until he held -his sides, with a heartiness that jarred upon me. It did not seem to fit -him. - -"By Hercules and Vulcan," he cried, when at last I had set the landlord -down, "what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in the -house, Goble, and sup with me." - -Goble pulled himself together. - -"And he is your honour's friend," he began, with a scowl. - -"Ay, he is my friend, I tell you," retorted the important personage, -impatiently. - -The innkeeper, sulky, half-satisfied, yet fearing to offend, welcomed us -with what grace he could muster, and we were shown to "The Fox and the -Grapes," a large room in the rear of the house. - -John Paul had not spoken since the slim gentleman had drawn the -distinction between us, and I knew that the affront was rankling in his -breast. He cast himself into a chair with such an air of dejection as -made me pity him from my heart. But I had no consolation to offer. His -first words, far from being the torrent of protest I looked for, almost -startled me into laughter. - -"He can be nothing less than a duke," said the captain. "Ah, Richard, -see what it is to be a gentleman!" - -"Fiddlesticks! I had rather own your powers than the best title in -England," I retorted sharply. - -He shook his head sorrowfully, which made me wonder the more that a man -of his ability should be unhappy without this one bauble attainment. - -"I shall begin to believe the philosophers have the right of it," he -remarked presently. "Have you ever read anything of Monsieur Rousseau's, -Richard?" - -The words were scarce out of his mouth when we heard a loud rap on the -door, which I opened to discover a Swiss fellow in a private livery, -come to say that his master begged the young gentleman would sup with -him. The man stood immovable while he delivered this message, and put an -impudent emphasis upon the gentleman. - -"Say to your master, whoever he may be," I replied, in some heat at -the man's sneer, "that I am travelling with Captain Paul. That any -invitation to me must include him." - -The lackey stood astounded at my answer, as though he had not heard -aright. Then he retired with less assurance than he had come, and John -Paul sprang to his feet and laid his hands upon my shoulders, as was his -wont when affected. He reproached himself for having misjudged me, and -added a deal more that I have forgotten. - -"And to think," he cried, "that you have forgone supping with a nobleman -on my account!" - -"Pish, captain, 'tis no great denial. His Lordship--if Lordship he -is--is stranded in an inn, overcome with ennui, and must be amused. That -is all." - -Nevertheless I think the good captain was distinctly disappointed, not -alone because I gave up what in his opinion was a great advantage, but -likewise because I could have regaled him on my return with an account -of the meal. For it must be borne in mind, my dears, that those days -are not these, nor that country this one. And in judging Captain Paul -it must be remembered that rank inspired a vast respect when King George -came to the throne. It can never be said of John Paul that he lacked -either independence or spirit. But a nobleman was a nobleman then. - -So when presently the gentleman himself appeared smiling at our door, -which his servant had left open, we both of us rose up in astonishment -and bowed very respectfully, and my face burned at the thought of the -message I had sent him. For, after all, the captain was but twenty-one -and I nineteen, and the distinguished unknown at least fifty. He took a -pinch of snuff and brushed his waistcoat before he spoke. - -"Egad," said he, with good nature, looking up at me, "Mohammed was a -philosopher, and so am I, and come to the mountain. 'Tis worth crossing -an inn in these times to see a young man whose strength has not been -wasted upon foppery. May I ask your name, sir?" - -"Richard Carvel," I answered, much put aback. - -"Ah, Carvel," he repeated; "I know three or four of that name. Perhaps -you are Robert Carvel's son, of Yorkshire. But what the devil do you do -in such clothes? I was resolved to have you though I am forced to take a -dozen watchet-blue mountebanks in the bargain." - -"Sir, I warn you not to insult my friend," I cried, in a temper again. - -"There, there, not so loud, I beg you," said he, with a gesture. "Hot as -pounded pepper,--but all things are the better for a touch of it. I had -no intention of insulting the worthy man, I give my word. I must have my -joke, sir. No harm meant." And he nodded at John Paul, who looked as if -he would sink through the floor. "Robert Carvel is as testy as the devil -with the gout, and you are not unlike him in feature." - -"He is no relation of mine," I replied, undecided whether to laugh or -be angry. And then I added, for I was very young, "I am an American, and -heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland." - -"Lord, lord, I might have known," exclaimed he. "Once I had the honour -of dining with your Dr. Franklin, from Pennsylvania. He dresses for all -the world like you, only worse, and wears a hat I would not be caught -under at Bagnigge Wells, were I so imprudent as to go there." - -"Dr. Franklin has weightier matters than hats to occupy him, sir," I -retorted. For I was determined to hold my own. - -He made a French gesture, a shrug of his thin shoulders, which caused me -to suspect he was not always so good-natured. - -"Dr. Franklin would better have stuck to his newspaper, my young -friend," said he. "But I like your appearance too well to quarrel with -you, and we'll have no politics before eating. Come, gentlemen, come! -Let us see what Goble has left after his shaking." - -He struck off with something of a painful gait, which he explained was -from the gout. And presently we arrived at his parlour, where supper was -set out for us. I had not tasted its equal since I left Maryland. We sat -down to a capon stuffed with eggs, and dainty sausages, and hot rolls, -such as we had at home; and a wine which had cobwebbed and mellowed -under the Castle Inn for better than twenty years. The personage did not -drink wine. He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble because he had not -been given iced water. While he was tapping on the table I took occasion -to observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike the stranger, not by -reason of its nobility, but because of its oddity. He had a prodigious -length of face, the nose long in proportion, but not prominent. The eyes -were dark, very bright, and wide apart, with little eyebrows dabbed over -them at a slanting angle. The thin-lipped mouth rather pursed up, which -made his smile the contradiction it was. In short, my dears, while I -do not lay claim to the reading of character, it required no great -astuteness to perceive the scholar, the man of the world, and the -ascetic--and all affected. His conversation bore out the summary. It -astonished us. It encircled the earth, embraced history and letters -since the world began. And added to all this, he had a thousand -anecdotes on his tongue's tip. His words he chose with too great a -nicety; his sentences were of a foreign formation, twisted around; and -his stories were illustrated with French gesticulations. He threw in -quotations galore, in Latin, and French, and English, until the captain -began casting me odd, uncomfortable looks, as though he wished himself -well out of the entertainment. Indeed, poor John Paul's perturbation -amused me more than the gentleman's anecdotes. To be ill at ease is -discouraging to any one, but it was peculiarly fatal with the captain. -This arch-aristocrat dazzled him. When he attempted to follow in the -same vein he would get lost. And his really considerable learning -counted for nothing. He reached the height of his mortification when -the slim gentleman dropped his eyelids and began to yawn. I was wickedly -delighted. He could not have been better met. Another such encounter, -and I would warrant the captain's illusions concerning the gentry to go -up in smoke. Then he might come to some notion of his own true powers. -As for me, I enjoyed the supper which our host had insisted upon our -partaking, drank his wine, and paid him very little attention. - -"May I make so bold as to ask, sir, whether you are a patron of -literature?" said the captain, at length. - -"A very poor patron, my dear man," was the answer. "Merely a humble -worshipper at the shrine. And I might say that I partake of its benefits -as much as a gentleman may. And yet," he added, with a laugh and a -cough, "those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me a -literary man." - -"And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is coming -on," said he, "perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr. -Carvel, and of your friend, Captain Paul. And how you come to be so far -from home." And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man who -has bought his right to an opera box. - -Here was my chance. And I resolved that if I did not further enlighten -John Paul, it would be no fault of mine. - -"Sir," I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, "I was -kidnapped by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony, -who had designs upon my grandfather's fortune. I was taken abroad in a -slaver and carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discovered -that the captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates. For one -day all hands got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captain -raised the skull and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest. I -was forced to climb the main rigging in order to escape being hacked to -pieces." - -He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half an -inch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity. John Paul -was no less astonished at my little ruse. - -"Holy Saint Clement!" exclaimed our host; "pirates! This begins to -have a flavour indeed. And yet you do not seem to be a lad with an -imagination. Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say, -with Alceste: 'Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.' But -pray go on, sir. You have but to call for pen and ink to rival Mr. -Fielding." - -With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him a -bow. And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same. - -"I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir," I said. "Sir, your -humble servant. I wish you a very good evening." He rose precipitately, -crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm. - -"Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated," he said, in some agitation. -"Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyes -on you until to-night. Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery? -But I should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit. -Pray be seated, captain." - -I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored my -point, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism. I -told my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listened -with every mark of attention and interest. Indeed, to my surprise, he -began to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed him -capable. - -"What a find! what a find!" he continued to exclaim, when I had -finished. "And true. You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Sir!" I replied, "I thought we had thrashed that out." - -"Yes, yes, to be sure. I beg pardon," said he. And then to his servant: -"Colomb, is my writing-tablet unpacked?" - -I was more mystified than ever as to his identity. Was he going to put -the story in a magazine? - -After that he seemed plainly anxious to be rid of us. I bade him good -night, and he grasped my hand warmly enough. Then he turned to the -captain in his most condescending manner. But a great change had come -over John Paul. He was ever quick to see and to learn, and I rejoiced -to remark that he did not bow over the hand, as he might have done two -hours since. He was again Captain Paul, the man, who fought his way on -his own merits. He held himself as tho' he was once more pacing the deck -of the John. - -The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass, -soused it with water, and held it up. - -"Here's to your future, my good captain," he said, "and to Mr. Carvel's -safe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail to -go to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and let -him remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And put -up at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have friends -in London." - -I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry. - -"You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel," -he added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. "A strange yarn -indeed, captain." - -"And therefore," said the captain, coolly, "as a stranger give it -welcome. - - "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" - -Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been more -taken aback. - -"What! What's this?" he cried. "You quote Hamlet! And who the devil are -you, sir, that you know my name?" - -"Your name, sir!" exclaims the captain, in astonishment. - -"Well, well," he said, stepping back and eying us closely, "'tis no -matter. Good night, gentlemen, good night." - -And we went to bed with many a laugh over the incident. - -"His name must be Horatio. We'll discover it in the morning," said John -Paul. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. LONDON TOWN - -But he had not risen when we set out, nor would the illnatured landlord -reveal his name. It mattered little to me, since I desired to forget him -as quickly as possible. For here was one of my own people of quality, a -gentleman who professed to believe what I told him, and yet would do -no more for me than recommend me an inn and a tailor; while a poor -sea-captain, driven from his employment and his home, with no better -reason to put faith in my story, was sharing with me his last penny. -Goble, in truth, had made us pay dearly for our fun with him, and the -hum of the vast unknown fell upon our ears with the question of lodging -still unsettled. The captain was for going to the Star and Garter, -the inn the gentleman had mentioned. I was in favour of seeking a more -modest and less fashionable hostelry. - -"Remember that you must keep up your condition, Richard," said John -Paul. - -"And if all English gentlemen are like our late friend," I said, "I -would rather stay in a city coffee-house. Remember that you have only -two guineas left after paying for the chaise, and that Mr. Dix may be -out of town." - -"And your friends in Arlington Street?" said he. - -"May be back in Maryland," said I; and added inwardly, - -"God forbid!" - -"We shall have twice the chance at the Star and Garter. They will want -a show of gold at a humbler place, and at the Star we may carry matters -with a high hand. Pick out the biggest frigate," he cried, for the tenth -time, at least, "or the most beautiful lady, and it will surprise you, -my lad, to find out how many times you will win." - -I know of no feeling of awe to equal that of a stranger approaching for -the first time a huge city. The thought of a human multitude is ever -appalling as that of infinity itself, a human multitude with its -infinity of despairs and joys, disgraces and honours, each small unit -with all the world in its own brain, and all the world out of it! Each -intent upon his own business or pleasure, and striving the while by hook -or crook to keep the ground from slipping beneath his feet. For, if he -falls, God help him! - -Yes, here was London, great and pitiless, and the fear of it was upon -our souls as we rode into it that day. - -Holland House with its shaded gardens, Kensington Palace with the broad -green acres of parks in front of it stitched by the silver Serpentine, -and Buckingham House, which lay to the south over the hill,--all were -one to us in wonder as they loomed through the glittering mist that -softened all. We met with a stream of countless wagons that spoke of -a trade beyond knowledge, sprinkled with the equipages of the gentry -floating upon it; coach and chaise, cabriolet and chariot, gorgeously -bedecked with heraldry and wreaths; their numbers astonished me, for -to my mind the best of them were no better than we could boast in -Annapolis. One matter, which brings a laugh as I recall it, was the -oddity to me of seeing white coachmen and footmen. - -We clattered down St. James's Street, of which I had often heard my -grandfather speak, and at length we drew up before the Star and Garter -in Pall Mall, over against the palace. The servants came hurrying out, -headed by a chamberlain clad in magnificent livery, a functionary we had -not before encountered. John Paul alighted to face this personage, who, -the moment he perceived us, shifted his welcoming look to one of such -withering scorn as would have daunted a more timid man than the captain. -Without the formality of a sir he demanded our business, which started -the inn people and our own boy to snickering, and made the passers-by -pause and stare. Dandies who were taking the air stopped to ogle us with -their spying-glasses and to offer quips, and behind them gathered -the flunkies and chairmen awaiting their masters at the clubs and -coffee-houses near by. What was my astonishment, therefore, to see a -change in the captain's demeanour. Truly for quick learning and the -application of it I have never known his equal. His air became the one -of careless ease habitual to the little gentleman we had met at Windsor, -and he drew from his pocket one of his guineas, which he tossed in the -man's palm. - -"Here, my man," said he, snapping his fingers; "an apartment at once, or -you shall pay for this nonsense, I promise you." And walked in with his -chin in the air, so grandly as to dissolve ridicule into speculation. - -For an instant the chamberlain wavered, and I trembled, for I dreaded a -disgrace in Pall Mall, where the Manners might hear of it. Then fear, or -hope of gain, or something else got the better of him, for he led us -to a snug, well-furnished suite of a parlour and bedroom on the -first floor, and stood bowing in the doorway for his honour's further -commands. They were of a sort to bring the sweat to my forehead. - -"Have a fellow run to bid Davenport, the tailor, come hither as fast -as his legs will carry him. And you may make it known that this young -gentleman desires a servant, a good man, mind you, with references, who -knows a gentleman's wants. He will be well paid." - -That name of Davenport was a charm,--the mention of a servant was -its finishing touch. The chamberlain bent almost double, and retired, -closing the door softly behind him. And so great had been my surprise -over these last acquirements of the captain that until now I had had no -breath to expostulate. - -"I must have my fling, Richard," he answered, laughing; "I shall not be -a gentleman long. I must know how it feels to take your ease, and stroke -your velvet, and order lackeys about. And when my money is gone I shall -be content to go to sea again, and think about it o' stormy nights." - -This feeling was so far beyond my intelligence that I made no comment. -And I could not for the life of me chide him, but prayed that all would -come right in the end. - -In less than an hour Davenport himself arrived, bristling with -importance, followed by his man carrying such a variety of silks and -satins, flowered and plain, and broadcloths and velvets, to fill the -furniture. And close behind the tailor came a tall haberdasher from -Bond Street, who had got wind of a customer, with a bewildering lot of -ruffles and handkerchiefs and neckerchiefs, and bows of lawn and lace -which (so he informed us) gentlemen now wore in the place of solitaires. -Then came a hosier and a bootmaker and a hatter; nay, I was forgetting -a jeweller from Temple Bar. And so imposing a front did the captain wear -as he picked this and recommended the other that he got credit for -me for all he chose, and might have had more besides. For himself he -ordered merely a modest street suit of purple, the sword to be thrust -through the pocket, Davenport promising it with mine for the next -afternoon. For so much discredit had been cast upon his taste on the -road to London that he was resolved to remain indoors until he could -appear with decency. He learned quickly, as I have said. - -By the time we had done with these matters, which I wished to perdition, -some score of applicants was in waiting for me. And out of them I -hired one who had been valet to the young Lord Rereby, and whose -recommendation was excellent. His name was Banks, his face open and -ingenuous, his stature a little above the ordinary, and his manner -respectful. I had Davenport measure him at once for a suit of the Carvel -livery, and bade him report on the morrow. - -All this while, my dears, I was aching to be off to Arlington Street, -but a foolish pride held me back. I had heard so much of the fashion -in which the Manners moved that I feared to bring ridicule upon them in -poor MacMuir's clothes. But presently the desire to see Dolly took -such hold upon me that I set out before dinner, fought my way past the -chairmen and chaisemen at the door, and asked my way of the first civil -person I encountered. 'Twas only a little rise up the steps of St. -James's Street, Arlington Street being but a small pocket of Piccadilly, -but it seemed a dull English mile; and my heart thumped when I reached -the corner, and the houses danced before my eyes. I steadied myself by a -post and looked again. At last, after a thousand leagues of wandering, -I was near her! But how to choose between fifty severe and imposing -mansions? I walked on toward that endless race of affairs and fashion, -Piccadilly, scanning every door, nay, every window, in the hope that I -might behold my lady's face framed therein. Here a chair was set down, -there a chariot or a coach pulled up, and a clocked flunky bowing a -lady in. But no Dorothy. Finally, when I had near made the round of -each side, I summoned courage and asked a butcher's lad, whistling as he -passed me, whether he could point out the residence of Mr. Manners. - -"Ay," he replied, looking me over out of the corner of his eye, "that I -can. But y'ell not get a glimpse o' the beauty this day, for she's but -just off to Kensington with a coachful o' quality." - -And he led me, all in a tremble over his answer, to a large stone -dwelling with arched windows, and pillared portico with lanthorns -and link extinguishers, an area and railing beside it. The flavour of -generations of aristocracy hung about the place, and the big knocker on -the carved door seemed to regard with such a forbidding frown my shabby -clothes that I took but the one glance (enough to fix it forever in my -memory), and hurried on. Alas, what hope had I of Dorothy now! - -"What cheer, Richard?" cried the captain when I returned; "have you seen -your friends?" - -I told him that I had feared to disgrace them, and so refrained from -knocking--a decision which he commended as the very essence of wisdom. -Though a desire to meet and talk with quality pushed him hard, he would -not go a step to the ordinary, and gave orders to be served in our room, -thus fostering the mystery which had enveloped us since our arrival. -Dinner at the Star and Garter being at the fashionable hour of half -after four, I was forced to give over for that day the task of finding -Mr. Dix. - -That evening--shall I confess it?--I spent between the Green Park and -Arlington Street, hoping for a glimpse of Miss Dolly returning from -Kensington. - -The next morning I proclaimed my intention of going to Mr. Dix. - -"Send for him," said the captain. "Gentlemen never seek their men of -affairs." - -"No," I cried; "I can contain myself in this place no longer. I must be -moving." - -"As you will, Richard," he replied, and giving me a queer, puzzled look -he settled himself between the Morning Post and the Chronicle. - -As I passed the servants in the lower hall, I could not but remark an -altered treatment. My friend the chamberlain, more pompous than ever, -stood erect in the door with a stony stare, which melted the moment he -perceived a young gentleman who descended behind me. I heard him cry out -"A chaise for his Lordship!" at which command two of his assistants -ran out together. Suspicion had plainly gripped his soul overnight, and -this, added to mortified vanity at having been duped, was sufficient for -him to allow me to leave the inn unattended. Nor could I greatly blame -him, for you must know, my dears, that at that time London was filled -with adventurers of all types. - -I felt a deal like an impostor, in truth, as I stepped into the street, -disdaining to inquire of any of the people of the Star and Garter where -an American agent might be found. The day was gray and cheerless, the -colour of my own spirits as I walked toward the east, knowing that the -city lay that way. But I soon found plenty to distract me. - -To a lad such as I, bred in a quiet tho' prosperous colonial town, a -walk through London was a revelation. Here in the Pall Mall the day was -not yet begun, tho' for some scarce ended. I had not gone fifty paces -from the hotel before I came upon a stout gentleman with twelve hours -of claret inside him, brought out of a coffee-house and put with vast -difficulty into his chair; and I stopped to watch the men stagger off -with their load to St. James's Street. Next I met a squad of redcoated -guards going to the palace, and after them a grand coach and six rattled -over the Scotch granite, swaying to a degree that threatened to shake -off the footmen clinging behind. Within, a man with an eagle nose sat -impassive, and I set him down for one of the king's ministers. - -Presently I came out into a wide space, which I knew to be Charing Cross -by the statue of Charles the First which stood in the centre of it, and -the throat of a street which was just in front of me must be the Strand. -Here all was life and bustle. On one hand was Golden's Hotel, and a -crowded mail-coach was dashing out from the arch beneath it, the horn -blowing merrily; on the other hand, so I was told by a friendly man in -brown, was Northumberland House, the gloomy grandeur whereof held my -eyes for a time. And I made bold to ask in what district were those who -had dealings with the colonies. He scanned me with a puzzling look of -commiseration. - -"Ye're not a-going to sell yereself for seven year, my lad?" said he. "I -was near that myself when I was young, and I thank God' to this day that -I talked first to an honest man, even as you are doing. They'll give -ye a pretty tale,--the factors,--of a land of milk and honey, when it's -naught but stripes and curses yell get." - -And he was about to rebuke me hotly, when I told him I had come from -Maryland, where I was born. - -"Why, ye speak like a gentleman!" he exclaimed. "I was informed that all -talk like naygurs over there. And is it not so of your redemptioners?" - -I said that depended upon the master they got. - -"Then I take it ye are looking for the lawyers, who mostly represent the -planters. And y e'll find them at the Temple or Lincoln's Inn." - -I replied that he I sought was not an attorney, but a man of business. -Whereupon he said that I should find all those in a batch about the -North and South American Coffee House, in Threadneedle Street. And he -pointed me into the Strand, adding that I had but to follow my nose to -St. Paul's, and there inquire. - -I would I might give you some notion of the great artery of London in -those days, for it has changed much since I went down it that heavy -morning in April, 1770, fighting my way. Ay, truly, fighting my way, for -the street then was no place for the weak and timid, when bullocks ran -through it in droves on the way to market, when it was often jammed from -wall to wall with wagons, and carmen and truckmen and coachmen swung -their whips and cursed one another to the extent of their lungs. Near -St. Clement Danes I was packed in a crowd for ten minutes while two of -these fellows formed a ring and fought for the right of way, stopping -the traffic as far as I could see. Dustmen, and sweeps, and even -beggars, jostled you on the corners, bullies tried to push you against -the posts or into the kennels; and once, in Butchers' Row, I was stopped -by a flashy, soft-tongued fellow who would have lured me into a tavern -near by. - -The noises were bedlam ten times over. Shopmen stood at their doors and -cried, "Rally up, rally up, buy, buy, buy!" venders shouted saloop -and barley, furmity, Shrewsbury cakes and hot peascods, rosemary -and lavender, small coal and sealing-wax, and others bawled "Pots to -solder!" and "Knives to grind!" Then there was the incessant roar of -the heavy wheels over the rough stones, and the rasp and shriek of the -brewers' sledges as they moved clumsily along. As for the odours, from -that of the roasted coffee and food of the taverns, to the stale fish on -the stalls, and worse, I can say nothing. They surpassed imagination. - -At length, upon emerging from Butchers' Row, I came upon some stocks -standing in the street, and beheld ahead of me a great gateway -stretching across the Strand from house to house. - -Its stone was stained with age, and the stern front of it seemed to mock -the unseemly and impetuous haste of the tide rushing through its arches. -I stood and gazed, nor needed one to tell me that those two grinning -skulls above it, swinging to the wind on the pikes, were rebel heads. -Bare and bleached now, and exposed to a cruel view, but once caressed -by loving hands, was the last of those whose devotion to the house of -Stuart had brought from their homes to Temple Bar. - -I halted by the Fleet Market, nor could I resist the desire to go into -St. Paul's, to feel like a pebble in a bell under its mighty dome; and -it lacked but half an hour of noon when I had come out at the Poultry -and finished gaping at the Mansion House. I missed Threadneedle Street -and went down Cornhill, in my ignorance mistaking the Royal Exchange, -with its long piazza and high tower, for the coffeehouse I sought: in -the great hall I begged a gentleman to direct me to Mr. Dix, if he knew -such a person. He shrugged his shoulders, which mystified me somewhat, -but answered with a ready good-nature that he was likely to be found at -that time at Tom's Coffee House, in Birchin Lane near by, whither I went -with him. He climbed the stairs ahead of me and directed me, puffing, to -the news room, which I found filled with men, some writing, some talking -eagerly, and others turning over newspapers. The servant there looked me -over with no great favour, but on telling him my business he went off, -and returned with a young man of a pink and white complexion, in a green -riding-frock, leather breeches, and top boots, who said: - -"Well, my man, I am Mr. Dix." - -There was a look about him, added to his tone and manner, set me strong -against him. I knew his father had not been of this stamp. - -"And I am Mr. Richard Carvel, grandson to Mr. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel -Hall, in Maryland," I replied, much in the same way. - -He thrust his hands into his breeches and stared very hard. - -"You?" he said finally, with something very near a laugh. - -"Sir, a gentleman's word usually suffices!" I cried. - -He changed his tone a little. - -"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," he said, "but we men of business have need -to be careful. Let us sit, and I will examine your letters. Your -determination must have been suddenly taken," he added, "for I have -nothing from Mr. Carvel on the subject of your coming." - -"Letters! You have heard nothing!" I gasped, and there stopped short -and clinched the table. "Has not my grandfather written of my -disappearance?" - -Immediately his expression went back to the one he had met me with. -"Pardon me," he said again. - -I composed myself as best I could in the face of his incredulity, -swallowing with an effort the aversion I felt to giving him my story. - -"I think it strange he has not informed you," I said; "I was kidnapped -near Annapolis last Christmas-time, and put on board of a slaver, from -which I was rescued by great good fortune, and brought to Scotland. And -I have but just made my way to London." - -"The thing is not likely, Mr.--, Mr.--," he said, drumming impatiently -on the board. - -Then I lost control of myself. - -"As sure as I am heir to Carvel Hall, Mr. Dix," I cried, rising, "you -shall pay for your insolence by forfeiting your agency!" - -Now the roan was a natural coward, with a sneer for some and a smirk for -others. He went to the smirk. - -"I am but looking to Mr. Carvel's interests the best I know how," he -replied; "and if indeed you be Mr. Richard Carvel, then you must applaud -my caution, sir, in seeking proofs." - -"Proofs I have none," I cried; "the very clothes on my back are borrowed -from a Scotch seaman. My God, Mr. Dix, do I look like a rogue?" - -"Were I to advance money upon appearances, sir, I should be insolvent -in a fortnight. But stay," he cried uneasily, as I flung back my chair, -"stay, sir. Is there no one of your province in the town to attest your -identity?" - -"Ay, that there is," I said bitterly; "you shall hear from Mr. Manners -soon, I promise you." - -"Pray, Mr. Carvel," he said, overtaking me on the stairs, "you will -surely allow the situation to be--extraordinary, you will surely commend -my discretion. Permit me, sir, to go with you to Arlington Street." And -he sent a lad in haste to the Exchange for a hackney-chaise, which was -soon brought around. - -I got in, somewhat mollified, and ashamed of my heat: still disliking -the man, but acknowledging he had the better right on his side. True -to his kind he gave me every mark of politeness now, asked particularly -after Mr. Carvel's health, and encouraged me to give him as much of my -adventure as I thought proper. But what with the rattle of the carriage -and the street noises and my disgust, I did not care to talk, and -presently told him as much very curtly. He persisted, how: ever, in -pointing out the sights, the Fleet prison, and where the Ludgate stood -six years gone; and the Devil's Tavern, of old Ben Jonson's time, and -the Mitre and the Cheshire Cheese and the Cock, where Dr. Johnson might -be found near the end of the week at his dinner. He showed me the King's -Mews above Charing Cross, and the famous theatre in the Haymarket, and -we had but turned the corner into Piccadilly when he cried excitedly at -a passing chariot: - -"There, Mr. Carvel, there go my Lord North and Mr. Rigby!" - -"The devil take them, Mr. Dix!" I exclaimed. - -He was silent after that, glancing at me covertly from while to while -until we swung into Arlington Street. Before I knew we were stopped -in front of the house, but as I set foot on the step I found myself -confronted by a footman in the Manners livery, who cried out angrily to -our man: "Make way, make way for his Grace of Chartersea!" Turning, I -saw a coach behind, the horses dancing at the rear wheels of the chaise. -We alighted hastily, and I stood motionless, my heart jumping quick and -hard in the hope and fear that Dorothy was within, my eye fixed on the -coach door. But when the footman pulled it open and lowered the step, -out lolled a very broad man with a bloated face and little, beady eyes -without a spark of meaning, and something very like a hump was on the -top of his back. He wore a yellow top-coat, and red-heeled shoes of the -latest fashion, and I settled at once he was the Duke of Chartersea. - -Next came little Mr. Manners, stepping daintily as ever; and then, -as the door closed with a bang, I remembered my errand. They had got -halfway to the portico. - -"Mr. Manners!" I cried. - -He faced about, and his Grace also, and both stared in wellbred -surprise. As I live, Mr. Manners looked into my face, into my very -eyes, and gave no sign of recognition. And what between astonishment and -anger, and a contempt that arose within me, I could not speak. - -"Give the man a shilling, Manners," said his Grace; "we can't stay here -forever." - -"Ay, give the man a shilling," lisped Mr. Manners to the footman. And -they passed into the house, and the door eras shut. - -Then I heard Mr. Dix at my elbow, saying in a soft voice: "Now, my -fine gentleman, is there any good reason why you should not ride to Bow -Street with me?" - -"As there is a God in heaven. Mr. Dix," I answered, very low, "if you -attempt to lay hands on me, you shall answer for it! And you shall hear -from me yet, at the Star and Garter hotel." - -I spun on my heel and left him, nor did he follow; and a great lump was -in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. - -What would John Paul say? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. CASTLE YARD - -But I did not go direct to the Star and Garter. No, I lacked the courage -to say to John Paul: "You have trusted me, and this is how I have -rewarded your faith." And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all -men, had served me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with -a bitterness I had never before conceived. And when my brain became -clearer I reflected that Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my -disappearance from Maryland, and that his action had been one of design, -and of cold blood. But I gave to Dorothy or her mother no part in it. -Mr. Manners never had had cause to hate me, and the only reason I could -assign was connected with his Grace of Chartersea, which I dismissed as -absurd. - -A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was, -nor how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a -huckster told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall -Mall. The usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but -I noticed a couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt -dress, and heard a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the -stairs and fumbled at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and -the door was suddenly and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a -big, rough-looking man with his hands on his hips. - -"Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant," he cried. - -The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a -wry face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired, -resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the -corner perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man -disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were -thrown on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat -across the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the -rest: "The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. -Martin's Lane!" - -In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the -haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the -confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes -Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and -looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted -with relief at sight of me. - -"Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?" he cried. And turning -to the man confronting me, he added, "This gentleman will settle their -beggarly accounts." - -Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me. - -"Likely," laughed the big man; "I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to -pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them." - -They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply. -But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the -trouble I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went -up to him. - -"My dear friend," I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, "I beg, I -pray that you will not lose faith in me,--that you will not think any -deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know -me, and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr. -Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the -Duke of Chartersea." - -And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face, -shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness. - -"What," I heard him cry, "Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all -the law in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your -fairweather fowl shall have the chance to run me through!" - -I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses. - -"You believe me, captain," I said, overcome by the man's faith; "you -believe me when I tell you that one I have known from childhood refused -to recognize me to-day?" - -He raised me in his arms as tenderly as a woman might. - -"And the whole world denied you, lad, I would not. I believe you--" and -he repeated it again and again, unable to get farther. - -And if his words brought tears to my eyes, my strength came with them. - -"Then I care not," I replied; "I only to live to reward you." - -"Mr. Manners shall answer for it to me!" cried John Paul again, and made -a pace toward the door. - -"Not so fast, not so fast, captain, or admiral, or whatever you are," -said the bailiff, stepping in his way, for he was used to such scenes; -"as God reigns, the owners of all these fierce titles be fire-eaters, -who would spit you if you spilt snuff upon 'em. Come, come, gentlemen, -your swords, and we shall see the sights o' London." - -This was the signal for another uproar, the tailor shrieking that John -Paul must take off the suit, and Banks the livery; asking the man in the -corner by the sea-chests (who proved to be the landlord) who was to pay -him for his work and his lost cloth. And the landlord shook his fist -at us and shouted back, who was to pay him his four pounds odd, which -included two ten-shilling dinners and a flask of his best wine? The -other tradesmen seized what was theirs and made off with remarks -appropriate to the occasion. And when John Paul and my man were divested -of their plumes, we were marched downstairs and out through a jeering -line of people to a hackney coach. - -"Now, sirs, whereaway?" said the bailiff when we were got in beside one -of his men, and burning with the shame of it; "to the prison? Or I has a -very pleasant hotel for gentlemen in Castle Yard." - -The frightful stories my dear grandfather had told me of the Fleet came -flooding into my head, and I shuddered and turned sick. I glanced at -John Paul. - -"A guinea will not go far in a sponging-house," said he, and the -bailiff's man laughed. - -The bailiff gave a direction we did not hear, and we drove off. He -proved a bluff fellow with a bloat yet not unkindly humour, and despite -his calling seemed to have something that was human in him. He -passed many a joke on that pitiful journey in an attempt to break our -despondency, urging us not to be downcast, and reminding us that the -last gentleman he had taken from Pall Mall was in over a thousand -pounds, and that our amount was a bagatelle. And when we had gone -through Temple Bar, instead of keeping on down Fleet Street, we jolted -into Chancery Lane. This roused me. - -"My friend has warned you that he has no money," I said, "and no more -have I." - -The bailiff regarded me shrewdly. - -"Ay," he replied, "I know. But I has seen many stripes o' men in my -time, my masters, and I know them to trust, and them whose silver I must -feel or send to the Fleet." - -I told him unreservedly my case, and that he must take his chance of -being paid; that I could not hear from America for three months at -least. He listened without much show of attention, shaking his head from -side to side. - -"If you ever cheated a man, or the admiral here either, then I begin -over again," he broke in with decision; "it is the fine sparks from the -clubs I has to watch. You'll not worry, sir, about me. Take my oath I'll -get interest out of you on my money." - -Unwilling as we both were to be beholden to a bailiff, the alternative -of the Fleet was too terrible to be thought of. And so we alighted after -him with a shiver at the sight of the ugly, grimy face of the house, and -the dirty windows all barred with double iron. In answer to a knock we -were presently admitted by a turnkey to a vestibule as black as a tomb, -and the heavy outer door was locked behind us. Then, as the man cursed -and groped for the keyhole of the inner door, despair laid hold of me. - -Once inside, in the half light of a narrow hallway, a variety of noises -greeted our ears,--laughter from above and below, interspersed with -oaths; the click of billiard balls, and the occasional hammering of -a pack of cards on a bare table before the shuffle. The air was close -almost to suffocation, and out of the coffee room, into which I glanced, -came a heavy cloud of tobacco smoke. - -"Why, my masters, why so glum?" said the bailiff; "my inn is not such a -bad place, and you'll find ample good company here, I promise you." - -And he led us into a dingy antechamber littered with papers, on every -one of which, I daresay, was written a tragedy. Then he inscribed -our names, ages, descriptions, and the like in a great book, when we -followed him up three flights to a low room under the eaves, having but -one small window, and bare of furniture save two narrow cots for beds, a -broken chair, and a cracked mirror. He explained that cash boarders got -better, and added that we might be happy we were not in the Fleet. - -"We dine at two here, gentlemen, and sup at eight. This is not the Star -and Garter," said he as he left us. - -It was the captain who spoke first, though he swallowed twice before the -words came out. - -"Come, Richard, come, laddie," he said, "'tis no so bad it micht-na be -waur. We'll mak the maist o' it." - -"I care not for myself, Captain Paul," I replied, marvelling the more at -him, "but to think that I have landed you here, that this is my return -for your sacrifice." - -"Hoots! How was ye to foresee Mr. Manners was a blellum?" And he broke -into threats which, if Mr. Marmaduke had heard and comprehended, would -have driven him into the seventh state of fear. "Have you no other -friends in London?" he asked, regaining his English. - -I shook my head. Then came--a question I dreaded. - -"And Mr. Manners's family?" - -"I would rather remain here for life," I said, "than to them now." - -For pride is often selfish, my dears, and I did not reflect that if I -remained, the captain would remain likewise. - -"Are they all like Mr. Manners?" - -"That they are not," I returned with more heat than was necessary; "his -wife is goodness itself, and his daughter--" Words failed me, and I -reddened. - -"Ah, he has a daughter, you say," said the captain, casting a -significant look at me and beginning to pace the little room. He was -keener than I thought, this John Paul. - -If it were not so painful a task, my dears, I would give you here some -notion of what a London sponging-house was in the last century. Comyn -has heard me tell of it, and I have seen Bess cry over the story. -Gaming was the king-vice of that age, and it filled these places -to overflowing. Heaven help a man who came into the world with that -propensity in the early days of King George the Third. Many, alas, -acquired it before they were come to years of discretion. Next me, at -the long table where we were all thrown in together,--all who could not -pay for private meals,--sat a poor fellow who had flung away a patrimony -of three thousand a year. Another had even mortgaged to a Jew his -prospects on the death of his mother, and had been seized by the -bailiffs outside of St. James's palace, coming to Castle Yard direct -from his Majesty's levee. Yet another, with such a look of dead hope -in his eyes as haunts me yet, would talk to us by the hour of the -Devonshire house where he was born, of the green valley and the peaceful -stream, and of the old tower-room, caressed by trees, where Queen Bess -had once lain under the carved oak rafters. Here he had taken his young -wife, and they used to sit together, so he said, in the sunny oriel over -the water, and he had sworn to give up the cards. That was but three -years since, and then all had gone across the green cloth in one mad -night in St. James's Street. Their friends had deserted them, and the -poor little woman was lodged in Holborn near by, and came every morning -with some little dainty to the bailiff's, for her liege lord who had so -used her. He pressed me to share a fowl with him one day, but it would -have choked me. God knows where she got the money to buy it. I saw her -once hanging on his neck in the hall, he trying to shield her from the -impudent gaze of his fellow-lodgers. - -But some of them lived like lords in luxury, with never a seeming -regret; and had apartments on the first floor, and had their tea and -paper in bed, and lounged out the morning in a flowered nightgown, and -the rest of the day in a laced coat. These drank the bailiff's best port -and champagne, and had nothing better than a frown or haughty look for -us, when we passed them at the landing. Whence the piper was paid I knew -not, and the bailiff cared not. But the bulk of the poor gentlemen were -a merry crew withal, and had their wit and their wine at table, and knew -each other's histories (and soon enough ours) by heart. They betted away -the week at billiards or whist or picquet or loo, and sometimes measured -swords for diversion, tho' this pastime the bailiff was greatly set -against; as calculated to deprive him of a lodger. - -Although we had no money for gaming, and little for wine or tobacco, the -captain and I were received very heartily into the fraternity. After -one afternoon of despondency we both voted it the worst of bad policy -to remain aloof and nurse our misfortune, and spent our first evening -in making acquaintances over a deal of very thin "debtor's claret." I -tossed long that night on the hard cot, listening to the scurrying rats -among the roof-timbers. They ran like the thoughts in my brain. And -before I slept I prayed again and again that God would put it in my -power to reward him whom charity for a friendless foundling had brought -to a debtor's prison. - -Not so much as a single complaint or reproach had passed his lips! - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. THE RESCUE - -Perchance, my dears, if John Paul and I had not been cast by accident -in a debtor's prison, this great man might never have bestowed upon -our country those glorious services which contributed so largely to -its liberty. And I might never have comprehended that the American -Revolution was brought on and fought by a headstrong king, backed by -unscrupulous followers who held wealth above patriotism. It is often -difficult to lay finger upon the causes which change the drift of a -man's opinions, and so I never wholly knew why John Paul abandoned his -deep-rooted purpose to obtain advancement in London by grace of the -accomplishments he had laboured so hard to attain. But I believe the -beginning was at the meeting at Windsor with the slim and cynical -gentleman who had treated him to something between patronage and -contempt. Then my experience with Mr. Manners had so embedded itself -in his mind that he could never speak of it but with impatience and -disgust. And, lastly, the bailiff's hotel contained many born gentlemen -who had been left here to rot out the rest of their dreary lives by -friends who were still in power and opulence. More than once when I -climbed to our garret I found the captain seated on the three-legged -chair, with his head between his hands, sunk in reflection. - -"You were right, Richard," said he; "your great world is a hard world -for those in the shadow of it. I see now that it must not be entered -from below, but from the cabin window. A man may climb around it, lad, -and when he is above may scourge it." - -"And you will scourge it, captain!" I had no doubt of his ability one -day to do it. - -"Ay, and snap my fingers at it. 'Tis a pretty organization, this -society, which kicks the man who falls to the dogs. None of your fine -gentlemen for me!" - -And he would descend to talk politics with our fellow-guests. We should -have been unhappy indeed had it not been for this pastime. It seems -to me strange that these debtors took such a keen interest in outside -affairs, even tho' it was a time of great agitation. We read with -eagerness the cast-off newspapers of the first-floor gentlemen. One poor -devil who had waddled (failed) in Change Alley had collected under his -mattress the letters of Junius, then selling the Public Advertiser as -few publications had ever sold before. John Paul devoured these attacks -upon his Majesty and his ministry in a single afternoon, and ere long -he had on the tip of his tongue the name and value of every man in -Parliament and out of it. He learned, almost by heart, the history of -the astonishing fight made by Mr. Wilkes for the liberties of England, -and speedily was as good a Whig and a better than the member from -Middlesex himself. - -The most of our companions were Tories, for, odd as it may appear, they -retained their principles even in Castle Yard. And in those days to be a -Tory was to be the friend of the King, and to be the friend of the King -was to have some hope of advancement and reward at his hand. They had -none. The captain joined forces with the speculator from the Alley, who -had hitherto contended against mighty odds, and together they bore down -upon the enemy--ay, and rooted him, too. For John Paul had an air about -him and a natural gift of oratory to command attention, and shortly the -dining room after dinner became the scene of such contests as to call -up in the minds of the old stagers a field night in the good days of -Mr. Pitt and the second George. The bailiff often sat by the door, an -interested spectator, and the macaroni lodgers condescended to come -downstairs and listen. The captain attained to fame in our little -world from his maiden address, in which he very shrewdly separated -the political character of Mr. Wilkes from his character as a private -gentleman, and so refuted a charge of profligacy against the people's -champion. - -Altho' I never had sufficient confidence in my powers to join in these -discussions, I followed them zealously, especially when they touched -American questions, as they frequently did. This subject of the wrongs -of the colonies was the only one I could ever be got to study at King -William's School, and I believe that my intimate knowledge of it gave -the captain a surprise. He fell into the habit of seating himself on -the edge of my bed after we had retired for the night, and would hold -me talking until the small hours upon the injustice of taxing a people -without their consent, and upon the multitude of measures of coercion -which the King had pressed upon us to punish our resistance. He -declaimed so loudly against the tyranny of quartering troops upon a -peaceable state that our exhausted neighbours were driven to pounding -their walls and ceilings for peace. The news of the Boston massacre had -not then reached England. - -I was not, therefore, wholly taken by surprise when he said to me one -night: - -"I am resolved to try my fortune in America, lad. That is the land for -such as I, where a man may stand upon his own merits." - -"Indeed, we shall go together, captain," I answered heartily, "if we are -ever free of this cursed house. And you shall taste of our hospitality -at Carvel Hall, and choose that career which pleases you. Faith, I could -point you a dozen examples in Annapolis of men who have made their way -without influence. But you shall have influence," I cried, glowing -at the notion of rewarding him; "you shall experience Mr. Carvel's -gratitude and mine. You shall have the best of our ships, and you will." - -He was a man to take fire easily, and embraced me. And, strange to say, -neither he nor I saw the humour, nor the pity, of the situation. How -many another would long before have become sceptical of my promises! And -justly. For I had led him to London, spent all his savings, and then -got him into a miserable prison, and yet he had faith remaining, and to -spare! - -It occurred to me to notify Mr. Dix of my residence in Castle Yard, -not from any hope that he would turn his hand to my rescue, but that -he might know where to find me if he heard from Maryland. And I penned -another letter to Mr. Carvel, but a feeling I took no pains to define -compelled me to withhold an account of Mr. Manners's conduct. And -I refrained from telling him that I was in a debtor's prison. For I -believe the thought of a Carvel in a debtor's prison would have killed -him. I said only that we were comfortably lodged in a modest part of -London; that the Manners were inaccessible (for I could not bring myself -to write that they were out of town). Just then a thought struck me with -such force that I got up with a cheer and hit the astonished captain -between the shoulders. - -"How now!" he cried, ruefully rubbing himself. "If these are thy -amenities, Richard, Heaven spare me thy blows." - -"Why, I have been a fool, and worse," I shouted. "My grandfather's ship, -the Sprightly Bess, is overhauling this winter in the Severn. And unless -she has sailed, which I think unlikely, I have but to despatch a line to -Bristol to summon Captain Bell, the master, to London. I think he will -bring the worthy Mr. Dix to terms." - -"Whether he will or no," said John Paul, hope lighting his face, "Bell -must have command of the twenty pounds to free us, and will take us -back to America. For I must own, Richard, that I have no great love for -London." - -No more had I. I composed this letter to Bell in such haste that my hand -shook, and sent it off with a shilling to the bailiff's servant, that it -might catch the post. And that afternoon we had a two-shilling bottle of -port for dinner, which we shared with a broken-down parson who had been -chaplain in ordinary to my Lord Wortley, and who had preached us an -Easter sermon the day before. For it was Easter Monday. Our talk was -broken into by the bailiff, who informed me that a man awaited me in the -passage, and my heart leaped into my, throat. - -There was Banks. Thinking he had come to reproach me; I asked him rather -sharply what he wanted. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other -and looked sheepish. - -"Your pardon, sir," said he, "but your honour must be very ill-served -here." - -"Better than I should be, Banks, for I have no money," I said, wondering -if he thought me a first-floor lodger. - -He made no immediate reply to that, either, but seemed more uneasy -still. And I took occasion to note his appearance. He was exceeding neat -in a livery of his old master, which he had stripped of the trimmings. -Then, before I had guessed at his drift, he thrust his hand inside his -coat and drew forth a pile of carefully folded bank notes. - -"I be a single man, sir, and has small need of this. And and I knows -your honour will pay me when your letter comes from America." - -And he handed me five Bank of England notes of ten pounds apiece. I took -them mechanically, without knowing what I did. The generosity of the -act benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the -offer upon the impulse of it. - -"How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?" I asked -curiously. - -"No fear, sir," he replied promptly, actually brightening at the -prospect. "I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will -go to America with you, and you say the word, sir." - -I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce -knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me -again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes -upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the -sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of -a servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off, -first getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my -release. - -On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the -appearance of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us -lest he had already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's -letters contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to -keep in humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had -gone. Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I -know not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, -not daring to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,--that the -Sprightly Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over the dreary -stretch of roofs and down into a dingy court of Bernard's Inn below, -when suddenly there arose a commotion on the stairs, as of a man -mounting hastily. The door was almost flung from its hinges, some one -caught me by the shoulders, gazed eagerly into my face, and drew back. -For a space I thought myself dreaming. I searched my memory, and the -name came. Had it been Dorothy, or Mr. Carvel himself, I could not have -been more astonished, and my knees weakened under me. - -"Jack!" I exclaimed; "Lord Comyn!" - -He seized my hand. "Yes; Jack, whose life you saved, and no other," he -cried, with a sailor's impetuosity. "My God, Richard! it was true, then; -and you have been in this place for three weeks!" - -"For three weeks," I repeated. - -He looked at me, at John Paul, who was standing by in bewilderment, -and then about the grimy, cobwebbed walls of the dark garret, and then -turned his back to hide his emotion, and so met the bailiff, who was -coming in. - -"For how much are these gentlemen in your books?" he demanded hotly. - -"A small matter, your Lordship,--a mere trifle," said the man, bowing. - -"How much, I say?" - -"Twenty-two guineas, five shillings, and eight pence, my Lord, counting -debts, and board,--and interest," the bailiff glibly replied; for he had -no doubt taken off the account when he spied his Lordship's coach. "And -I was very good to Mr. Carvel and the captain, as your Lordship will -discover--" - -"D--n your goodness!" said my Lord, cutting him short. - -And he pulled out a wallet and threw some pieces at the bailiff, bidding -him get change with all haste. "And now, Richard," he added, with a -glance of disgust about him, "pack up, and we'll out of this cursed -hole!" - -"I have nothing to pack, my Lord," I said. - -"My Lord! Jack, I have told you, or I leave you here." - -"Well, then, Jack, and you will," said I, overflowing with thankfulness -to God for the friends He had bestowed upon me. "But before we go a -step, Jack, you must know the man but for whose bravery I should long -ago have been dead of fever and ill-treatment in the Indies, and whose -generosity has brought him hither. My Lord Comyn, this is Captain John -Paul." - -The captain, who had been quite overwhelmed by this sudden arrival of a -real lord to our rescue at the very moment when we had sunk to despair, -and no less astonished by the intimacy that seemed to exist between the -newcomer and myself, had the presence of mind to bend his head, and that -was all. Comyn shook his hand heartily. - -"You shall not lack reward for this, captain, I promise you," cried he. -"What you have done for Mr. Carvel, you have done for me. Captain, I -thank you. You shall have my interest." - -I flushed, seeing John Paul draw his lips together. But how was his -Lordship to know that he was dealing with no common sea-captain? - -"I have sought no reward, my Lord," said he. "What I have done was out -of friendship for Mr. Carvel, solely." - -Comyn was completely taken by surprise by these words, and by the -haughty tone in which they were spoken. He had not looked for a -gentleman, and no wonder. He took a quizzical sizing of the sky-blue -coat. Such a man in such a station was out of his experience. - -"Egad, I believe you, captain," he answered, in a voice which said -plainly that he did not. "But he shall be rewarded nevertheless, eh, -Richard? I'll see Charles Fox in this matter to-morrow. Come, come," -he added impatiently, "the bailiff must have his change by now. Come, -Richard!" and he led the way down the winding stairs. - -"You must not take offence at his ways," I whispered to the captain. For -I well knew that a year before I should have taken the same tone with -one not of my class. "His Lordship is all kindness." - -"I have learned a bit since I came into England, Richard," was his sober -reply. - -"'Twas a pitiful sight to see gathered on the landings the poor fellows -we had come to know in Castle Yard, whose horizons were then as gray as -ours was bright. But they each had a cheery word of congratulation for -us as we passed, and the unhappy gentleman from Devonshire pressed my -hand and begged that I would sometime think of him when I was out under -the sky. I promised even more, and am happy to be able to say, my dears, -that I saw both him and his wife off for America before I left London. -Our eyes were wet when we reached the lower hall, and I was making for -the door in an agony to leave the place, when the bailiff came out of -his little office. - -"One moment, sir," he said, getting in front of me; "there is a little -form yet to be gone through. The haste of gentlemen to leave us is not -flattering." - -He glanced slyly at Comyn, and his Lordship laughed a little. I stepped -unsuspectingly into the office. - -"Richard!" - -I stopped across the threshold as tho' I had been struck. The late -sunlight filtering through the dirt of the window fell upon the -tall figure of a girl and lighted an upturned face, and I saw tears -glistening on the long lashes. - -It was Dorothy. Her hands were stretched out in welcome, and then I had -them pressed in my own. And I could only look and look again, for I was -dumb with joy. - -"Thank God you are alive!" she cried; "alive and well, when we feared -you dead. Oh, Richard, we have been miserable indeed since we had news -of your disappearance." - -"This is worth it all, Dolly," I said, only brokenly. - -She dropped her eyes, which had searched me through in wonder and -pity,--those eyes I had so often likened to the deep blue of the -sea,--and her breast rose and fell quickly with I knew not what -emotions. How the mind runs, and the heart runs, at such a time! Here -was the same Dorothy I had known in Maryland, and yet not the same. For -she was a woman now, who had seen the great world, who had refused both -titles and estates,--and perchance accepted them. She drew her hands -from mine. - -"And how came you in such a place?" she asked, turning with a shudder. -"Did you not know you had friends in London, sir?" - -Not for so much again would I have told her of Mr. Manners's conduct. So -I stood confused, casting about for a reply with truth in it, when Comyn -broke in upon us. - -"I'll warrant you did not look for her here, Richard. Faith, but you are -a lucky dog," said my Lord, shaking his head in mock dolefulness; "for -there is no man in London, in the world, for whom she would descend a -flight of steps, save you. And now she has driven the length of the town -when she heard you were in a sponging-house, nor all the dowagers in -Mayfair could stop her." - -"Fie, Comyn," said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; "that -tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's -privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you -know you were full as keen for his rescue as I." - -His Lordship pinched me playfully. - -"I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me," -said he. - -"But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?" asked Dolly, -stamping her foot. - -"What," I exclaimed; "you know the story?" - -"Never mind," said she; "bring him here." - -My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul -since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and -took him by the hand. - -"A lady wishes to know you, captain," I said. - -"A lady!" he cried. "Here? Impossible!" And he looked at his clothes. - -"Who cares more for your heart than your appearance," I answered gayly, -and led him into the office. - -At sight of Dorothy he stopped abruptly, confounded, as a man who sees a -diamond in a dust-heap. And a glow came over me as I said: - -"Miss Manners, here is Captain Paul, to whose courage and unselfishness -I owe everything." - -"Captain," said Dorothy, graciously extending her hand, "Richard has -many friends. You have put us all in your debt, and none deeper than his -old playmate." - -The captain fairly devoured her with his eyes as she made him a -curtsey. But he was never lacking in gallantry, and was as brave on such -occasions as when all the dangers of the deep threatened him. With an -elaborate movement he took Miss Manners's fingers and kissed them, and -then swept the floor with a bow. - -"To have such a divinity in my debt, madam, is too much happiness for -one man," he said. "I have done nothing to merit it. A lifetime were all -too short to pay for such a favour." - -I had almost forgotten Miss Dolly the wayward, the mischievous. But she -was before me now, her eyes sparkling, and biting her lips to keep down -her laughter. Comyn turned to fleck the window with his handkerchief, -while I was not a little put out at their mirth. But if John Paul -observed it, he gave no sign. - -"Captain, I vow your manners are worthy of a Frenchman," said my Lord; -"and yet I am given to understand you are a Scotchman." - -A shadow crossed the captain's face. - -"I was, sir," he said. - -"You were!" exclaimed Comyn, astonished; "and pray, what are you now, -sir?" - -"Henceforth, my Lord," John Paul replied with vast ceremony: "I am an -American, the compatriot of the beautiful Miss Manners!" - -"One thing I'll warrant, captain," said his Lordship, "that you are a -wit." - - - - -Volume 5. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. THE PART HORATIO PLAYED - -The bailiff's business was quickly settled. I heard the heavy doors -close at our backs, and drew a deep draught of the air God has made for -all His creatures alike. Both the captain and I turned to the windows -to wave a farewell to the sad ones we were leaving behind, who gathered -about the bars for a last view of us, for strange as it may seem, the -mere sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad. A -coach in private arms and livery was in waiting, surrounded by a crowd. -They made a lane for us to pass, and stared at the young lady of queenly -beauty coming out of the sponging-house until the coachman snapped his -whip in their faces and the footman jostled them back. When we were -got in, Dolly and I on the back seat, Comyn told the man to go to Mr. -Manners's. - -"Oh, no!" I cried, scarce knowing what I said; "no, not there!" For the -thought of entering the house in Arlington Street was unbearable. - -Both Comyn and Dorothy gazed at me in astonishment. - -"And pray, Richard, why not'?" she asked. "Have not your old friends the -right to receive you." - -It was my Lord who saved me, for I was in agony what to say. - -"He is still proud, and won't go to Arlington Street dressed like a -bargeman. He must needs plume, Miss Manners." - -I glanced anxiously at Dorothy, and saw that she was neither satisfied -nor appeased. Well I remembered every turn of her head, and every curve -of her lip! In the meantime we were off through Cursitor Street at a -gallop, nearly causing the death of a ragged urchin at the corner of -Chancery Lane. I had forgotten my eagerness to know whence they had -heard of my plight, when some words from Comyn aroused me. - -"The carriage is Mr. Horace Walpole's, Richard. He has taken a great -fancy to you." - -"But I have never so much as clapped eyes upon him!" I exclaimed in -perplexity. - -"How about his honour with whom you supped at Windsor? how about the -landlord you spun by the neck? You should have heard the company laugh -when Horry told us that! And Miss Dolly cried out that she was sure it -must be Richard, and none other. Is it not so, Miss Manners?" - -"Really, my Lord, I can't remember," replied Dolly, looking out of the -coach window. "Who put those frightful skulls upon Temple Bar?" - -Then the mystery of their coming was clear to me, and the superior -gentleman at the Castle Inn had been the fashionable dabbler in arts and -letters and architecture of Strawberry Hill, of whom I remembered -having heard Dr. Courtenay speak, Horace Walpole. But I was then far -too concerned about Dorothy to listen to more. Her face was still turned -away from me, and she was silent. I could have cut out my tongue for my -blunder. Presently, when we were nearly out of the Strand, she turned -upon me abruptly. - -"We have not yet heard, Richard," she said, "how you got into such a -predicament." - -"Indeed, I don't know myself, Dolly. Some scoundrel bribed the captain -of the slaver. For I take it Mr. Walpole has told you I was carried off -on a slaver, if he recalled that much of the story." - -"I don't mean that," answered Dolly, impatiently. "There is something -strange about all this. How is it that you were in prison?" - -"Mr. Dix, my grandfather's agent, took me for an impostor and would -advance me no money," I answered, hard pushed. - -But Dorothy had a woman's instinct, which is often the best of -understanding. And I was beginning to think that a suspicion was at the -bottom of her questions. She gave her head an impatient fling, and, as I -feared, appealed to John Paul. - -"Perhaps you can tell me, captain, why he did not come to his friends in -his trouble." - -And despite my signals to him he replied: "In truth, my dear lady, he -haunted the place for a sight of you, from the moment he set foot in -London." - -Comyn laughed, and I felt the blood rise to my face, and kicked John -Paul viciously. Dolly retained her self-possession. - -"Pho!" says she; "for a sight of me! You seamen are all alike. For -a sight of me! And had you not strength enough to lift a knocker, -sir,--you who can raise a man from the ground with one hand?" - -"'Twas before his tailor had prepared him, madam, and he feared to -disgrace you," the captain gravely continued, and I perceived how futile -it were to attempt to stop him. "And afterward--" - -"And afterward?" repeated Dorothy, leaning forward. - -"And afterward he went to Arlington Street with Mr. Dix to seek -Mr. Manners, that he might be identified before that gentleman. He -encountered Mr. Manners and his Grace of Something." - -"Chartersea," put in Comyn, who had been listening eagerly. "Getting out -of a coach," said the captain. - -"When was this?" demanded Dorothy of me, interrupting him. Her voice was -steady, but the colour had left her face. - -"About three weeks ago." - -"Please be exact, Richard." - -"Well, if you must," said I, "the day was Tuesday, and the time about -half an hour after two." - -She said nothing for a while, trying to put down an agitation which was -beginning to show itself in spite of her effort. As for me, I was almost -wishing myself back in the sponginghouse. - -"Are you sure my father saw you?" she asked presently. - -"As clearly as you do now, Dolly," I said. - -"But your clothes? He might have gone by you in such." - -"I pray that he did, Dorothy," I replied. But I was wholly convinced -that Mr. Manners had recognized me. - -"And--and what did he say?" she asked. - -For she had the rare courage that never shrinks from the truth. I think -I have never admired and pitied her as at that moment. - -"He said to the footman," I answered, resolved to go through with it -now, "'Give the man a shilling.' That was his Grace's suggestion." - -My Lord uttered something very near an oath. And she spoke not a word -more until I handed her out in Arlington Street. The rest of us were -silent, too, Comyn now and again giving me eloquent glances expressive -of what he would say if she were not present; the captain watching her -with a furtive praise, and he vowed to me afterward she was never so -beautiful as when angry, that he loved her as an avenging Diana. But I -was uneasy, and when I stood alone with her before the house I begged -her not to speak to her father of the episode. - -"Nay, he must be cleared of such an imputation, Richard," she answered -proudly. "He may have made mistakes, but I feel sure he would never turn -you away when you came to him in trouble--you, the grandson of his old -friend, Lionel Carvel." - -"Why bother over matters that are past and gone? I would have borne an -hundred such trials to have you come to me as you came to-day, Dorothy. -And I shall surely see you again," I said, trying to speak lightly; "and -your mother, to whom you will present my respects, before I sail for -America." - -She looked up at me, startled. - -"Before you sail for America!" she exclaimed, in a tone that made me -thrill at once with joy and sadness. "And are you not, then, to see -London now you are here?" - -"Are you never coming back, Dolly?" I whispered; for I feared Mr. -Marmaduke might appear at any moment; "or do you wish to remain in -England always?" - -For an instant I felt her pressure on my hand, and then she had fled -into the house, leaving me standing by the steps looking after her. -Comyn's voice aroused me. - -"To the Star and Garter!" I heard him command, and on the way to Pall -Mall he ceased not to rate Mr. Manners with more vigour than propriety. -"I never liked the little cur, d--n him! No one likes him, Richard," he -declared. "All the town knows how Chartersea threw a bottle at him, and -were it not for his daughter he had long since been put out of White's. -Were it not for Miss Dolly I would call him out for this cowardly trick, -and then publish him." - -"Nay, my Lord, I had held that as my privilege," interrupted the -captain, "were it not, as you say, for Miss Manners." - -His Lordship shot a glance at John Paul somewhat divided between -surprise, resentment, and amusement. - -"Now you have seen the daughter, captain, you perceive it is -impossible," I hastened to interpose. - -"How in the name of lineage did she come to have such a father?" Comyn -went on. "I thank Heaven he's not mine. He's not fit to be her lackey. I -would sooner twenty times have a profligate like my Lord Sandwich for -a parent than a milk and water sop like Manners, who will risk nothing -over a crown piece at play or a guinea at Newmarket. By G--, Richard," -said his Lordship, bringing his fist against the glass with near force -enough to break the pane, "I have a notion why he did not choose to see -you that day. Why, he has no more blood than a louse!" - -I had come to the guess as soon as he, but I dared not give it voice, -nor anything but ridicule. And so we came to the hotel, the red of -departing day fading in the sky above the ragged house-line in St. -James's Street. - -It was a very different reception we got than when we had first come -there. You, my dears, who live in this Republic can have no notion of -the stir and bustle caused by the arrival of Horace Walpole's carriage -at a fashionable hotel, at a time when every innkeeper was versed in -the arms of every family of note in the three kingdoms. Our friend the -chamberlain was now humility itself, and fairly ran in his eagerness to -anticipate Comyn's demands. It was "Yes, my Lord," and "To be sure, your -Lordship," every other second, and he seized the first occasion to make -me an elaborate apology for his former cold conduct, assuring me that -had our honours been pleased to divulge the fact that we had friends -in London, such friends as my Lord Comyn and Mr. Walpole, whose great -father he had once had the distinction to serve as linkman, all would -have been well. And he was desiring me particularly to comprehend that -he had been acting under most disagreeable orders when he sent for the -bailiff, before I cut him short. - -We were soon comfortably installed in our old rooms; Comyn had sent -post-haste for Davenport, who chanced to be his own tailor, and for the -whole army of auxiliaries indispensable to a gentleman's make-up; and -Mr. Dix was notified that his Lordship would receive him at eleven on -the following morning, in my rooms. I remembered the faithful Banks with -a twinge of gratitude, and sent for him. And John Paul and I, having -been duly installed in the clothes made for us, all three of us sat down -merrily to such a supper as only the cook of the Star and Garter, who -had been chef to the Comte de Maurepas, could prepare. Then I begged -Comyn to relate the story of our rescue, which I burned to hear. - -"Why, Richard," said he, filling his glass, "had you run afoul any -other man in London, save perchance Selwyn, you'd have been drinking the -bailiff's triple-diluted for a month to come. I never knew such a brace -of fools as he and Horry for getting hold of strange yarns and making -them stranger; the wonder was that Horry told this as straight as he -did. He has written it to all his friends on the Continent, and had he -not been in dock with the gout ever since he reached town, he would -have told it at the opera, and at a dozen routs and suppers. Beg pardon, -captain," said he, turning to John Paul, "but I think 'twas your peacock -coat that saved you both, for it caught Horry's eye through the window, -as you got out of the chaise, and down he came as fast as he could -hobble. - -"Horry had a little dinner to-day in Arlington Street, where he lives, -and Miss Dorothy was there. I have told you, Richard, there has been -no sensation in town equal to that of your Maryland beauty, since Lady -Sarah Lennox. You may have some notion of the old beau Horry can be when -he tries, and he is over-fond of Miss Dolly--she puts him in mind of -some canvas or other of Sir Peter's. He vowed he had been saving this -piece de resistance, as he was pleased to call it, expressly for her, -since it had to do somewhat with Maryland. 'What d'ye think I met at -Windsor, Miss Manners?' he cries, before we had begun the second course. - -"'Perhaps a repulse from his Majesty,' says Dolly, promptly. - -"'Nay,' says Mr. Walpole, making a face, for he hates a laugh at his -cost; nothing less than a young American giant, with the attire of Dr. -Benjamin Franklin and the manner of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain. But he -had a whiff of deer leather about him, and shoulders and back and legs -to make his fortune at Hockley in the Hole, had he lived two generations -since. And he had with him a strange, Scotch sea-captain, who had -rescued him from pirates, bless you, no less. That is, he said he was -a sea-captain; but he talked French like a Parisian, and quoted -Shakespeare like Mr. Burke or Dr. Johnson. He may have been M. Caron de -Beaumarchais, for I never saw him, or a soothsayer, or Cagliostro the -magician, for he guessed my name.' - -"'Guessed your name!' we cried, for the story was out of the ordinary. - -"'Just that,' answered he, and repeated some damned verse I never heard, -with Horatio in it, and made them all laugh." - -John Paul and I looked at each other in astonishment, and we, too, -laughed heartily. It was indeed an odd coincidence. - -His Lordship continued: "'Well, be that as it may,' said Horry, 'he was -an able man of sagacity, this sea-captain, and, like many another, had -a penchant for being a gentleman. But he was more of an oddity than -Hertford's beast of Gevaudan, and was dressed like Salvinio, the monkey -my Lord Holland brought back from his last Italian tour.'" - -I have laughed over this description since, my dears, and so has John -Paul. But at that time I saw nothing funny in it, and winced with him -when Comyn repeated it with such brutal unconsciousness. However, young -Englishmen of birth and wealth of that day were not apt to consider the -feelings of those they deemed below them. - -"Come to your story. Comyn," I cut in testily. - -But his Lordship missed entirely the cause of my displeasure. - -"Listen to him!" he exclaimed good-naturedly. "He will hear of nothing -but Miss Dolly. Well, Richard, my lad, you should have seen her as Horry -went on to tell that you had been taken from Maryland, with her head -forward and her lips parted, and a light in those eyes of hers to make -a man fall down and worship. For Mr. Lloyd, or some one in your Colony, -had written of your disappearance, and I vow bliss Dorothy has not been -the same since. Nor have I been the only one to remark it," said he, -waving off my natural protest at such extravagance. "We have talked of -you more than once, she and I, and mourned you for dead. But I am off -my course again, as we sailors say, captain. Horry was describing how -Richard lifted little Goble by one hand and spun all the dignity out -of him, when Miss Manners broke in, being able to contain herself no -longer. - -"'An American, Mr. Walpole, and from Maryland?' she demanded. And the -way she said it made them all look at her. - -"'Assurement, mademoiselle,' replied Horry, in his cursed French; -and perhaps you know him. He would gladden the heart of Frederick of -Prussia, for he stands six and three if an inch. I took such a fancy to -the lad that I invited him to sup with me, and he gave me back a message -fit for Mr. Wilkes to send to his Majesty, as haughty as you choose, -that if I desired him I must have his friend in the bargain. You -Americans are the very devil for independence, Miss Manners! 'Ods -fish, I liked his spirit so much I had his friend, Captain something or -other--'and there he stopped, caught by Miss Manners's appearance, for -she was very white. - -"'The name is Richard Carvel!' she cried. - -"'I'll lay a thousand it was!' I shouted, rising in my chair. And the -company stared, and Lady Pembroke vowed I had gone mad. - -"'Bless me, bless me, here's a romance for certain!' cried Horry; 'it -throws my "Castle of Otranto" in the shade' ("that's some damned book he -has written," Comyn interjected). - -"You may not believe me, Richard, when I say that Miss Dolly ate but -little after that, and her colour came and went like the red of a stormy -sunset at sea. 'Here's this dog Richard come to spill all our chances,' -I swore to myself. The company had been prodigiously entertained by the -tale, and clamoured for more, and when Horry had done I told how you had -fought me at Annapolis, and had saved my life. But Miss Manners sat very -still, biting her lip, and I knew she was sadly vexed that you had not -gone to her in Arlington Street. For a woman will reason thus," said his -Lordship, winking wisely. "But I more than suspected something to have -happened, so I asked Horry to send his fellow Favre over to the Star and -Garter to see if you were there, tho' I was of three minds to let you -go to the devil. You should have seen her face when he came back to say -that you had been for three weeks in a Castle Yard sponging-house! Then -Horry said he would lend me his coach, and when it was brought around -Miss Manners took our breaths by walking downstairs and into it, nor -would she listen to a word of the objections cried by my Lady Pembroke -and the rest. You must know there is no stopping the beauty when she has -made her mind. And while they were all chattering on the steps I jumped -in, and off we drove, and you will be the most talked-of man in London -to-morrow. I give you Miss Manners!" cried his Lordship, as he ended. - -We all stood to the toast, I with my blood a-tingle and my brain awhirl, -so that I scarce knew what I did. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. IN WHICH I AM SORE TEMPTED - -"Who the devil is this John Paul, and what is to become of him?" asked -Comyn, as I escorted him downstairs to a chair. "You must give him two -hundred pounds, or a thousand, if you like, and let him get out. He -can't be coming to the clubs with you." - -And he pulled me into the coffee room after him. - -"You don't understand the man, Comyn," said I; "he isn't that kind, I -tell you. What he has done for me is out of friendship, as he says, and -he wouldn't touch a farthing save what I owe him." - -"Cursed if he isn't a rum sea-captain," he answered, shrugging his -shoulders; "cursed if I ever ran foul of one yet who would refuse a -couple of hundred and call quits. What's he to do? Is he to live like a -Lord of the Treasury upon a master's savings?" - -"Jack," said I, soberly, resolved not to be angry, "I would willingly be -cast back in Castle Yard to-night rather than desert him, who might have -deserted me twenty times to his advantage. Mr. Carvel has not wealth -enough, nor I gratitude enough, to reward him. But if our family can -make his fortune, it shall be made. And I am determined to go with him -to America by the first packet I can secure." - -He clutched my arm with an earnestness to startle me. - -"You must not leave England now," he said. - -"And why?" - -"Because she will marry Chartersea if you do. And take my oath upon it, -you alone can save her from that." - -"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply. - -"Listen, Richard. Mr. Manners's manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and -the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street. -At first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit. It is said," he -whispered fearfully, "it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in -his power,--some question of honour, you understand, which will -ruin him,--and that even now the duke is in a position to force the -marriage." - -He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho' -watching the effect of the intelligence upon me. I was, indeed, stunned. - -"Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice," my Lord -continued, "I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel. -And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man -alive. For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning." - -"Oh, no!" I replied passionately; "you are deceived by the old liking -she has always had for me since we were children together." I was deeply -touched by his friendship. "But tell me how that could affect this -marriage with Chartersea. I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice -for the family honour." - -He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick. - -"There, curse you, there you are again!" he said, "showing how little -you know of women and of their pride. If she were sure that you loved -her, she would never marry Chartersea or any one else. She has had near -the whole of London at her feet, and toyed with it. Now she has been -amusing herself with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them. -Titles, fame, estates, will not move her." - -"If she were sure that I loved her!" I repeated, dazed by what he was -saying. "How you are talking, Comyn!" - -"Just that. Ah, how I know her, Richard! She can be reckless beyond -notion. And if it were proved to her that you were in love with Miss -Swain, the barrister's daughter, over whom we were said to have fought, -she would as soon marry Chartersea, or March, or the devil, to show you -how little she cared." - -"With Patty Swain!" I exclaimed. - -"But if she knew you did not care a rope's end for Patty, Mr. Marmaduke -and his reputation might go into exile together," he continued, without -heeding. "So much for a woman's pride, I say. The day the news of your -disappearance arrived, Richard, she was starting out with a party to -visit Lord Carlisle's seat, Castle Howard. Not a step would she stir, -though Mr. Marmaduke whined and coaxed and threatened. And I swear to -you she has never been the same since, though few but I know why. I -might tell you more, my lad, were it not a breach of confidence." - -"Then don't," I said; for I would not let my feelings run. - -"Egad, then, I will!" he cried impetuously, "for the end justifies it. -You must know that after the letter came from Mr. Lloyd, we thought you -dead. I could never get her to speak of you until a fortnight ago. We -both had gone with a party to see Wanstead and dine at the Spread Eagle -upon the Forest, and I stole her away from the company and led her out -under the trees. My God, Richard, how beautiful she was in the wood -with the red in her cheeks and the wind blowing her black hair! For the -second time I begged her to be Lady Comyn. Fool that I was, I thought -she wavered, and my heart beat as it never will again. Then, as she -turned away, from her hand slipped a little gold-bound purse, and as I -picked it up a clipping from a newspaper fluttered out. 'Pon my soul, it -was that very scandalous squib of the Maryland Gazette about our duel! -I handed it back with a bow. I dared not look up at her face, but stood -with my eyes on the ground, waiting. - -"'Lord Comyn,' says she, presently, with a quiver in her voice, 'before -I give you a reply you must first answer, on your word as a gentleman, -what I ask you.' - -"I bowed again. - -"'Is it true that Richard Carvel was in love with Miss Swain?' she -asked." - -"And you said, Comyn," I broke in, unable longer to contain myself, "you -said--" - -"I said: 'Dorothy, if I were to die to-morrow, I would swear Richard -Carvel loved you, and you only.'" - -His Lordship had spoken with that lightness which hides only the deepest -emotion. - -"And she refused you?" I cried. "Oh, surely not for that!" - -"And she did well," said my Lord. - -I bowed my head on my arms, for I had gone through a great deal that -day, and this final example of Comyn's generosity overwhelmed me. Then -I felt his hand laid kindly on my shoulder, and I rose up and seized it. -His eyes were dim, as were mine. - -"And now, will you go to Maryland and be a fool?" asked his Lordship. - -I hesitated, sadly torn between duty and inclination. John Paul could, -indeed, go to America without me. Next the thought came over me in a -flash that my grandfather might be ill, or even dead, and there would -be no one to receive the captain. I knew he would never consent to spend -the season at the Star and Garter at my expense. And then the image of -the man rose before me, of him who had given me all he owned, and gone -with me so cheerfully to prison, though he knew me not from the veriest -adventurer and impostor. I was undecided no longer. - -"I must go, Jack," I said sadly; "as God judges, I must." - -He looked at me queerly, as if I were beyond his comprehension, picked -up his hat, called out that he would see me in the morning, and was -gone. - -I went slowly upstairs, threw off my clothes mechanically, and tumbled -into bed. The captain had long been asleep. By the exertion of all the -will power I could command, I was able gradually to think more and more -soberly, and the more I thought, the more absurd, impossible, it seemed -that I, a rough provincial not yet of age, should possess the heart of -a beauty who had but to choose from the best of all England. An hundred -times I went over the scene of poor Comyn's proposal, nay, saw it -vividly, as though the whole of it had been acted before me: and as I -became calmer, the plainer I perceived that Dorothy, thinking me dead, -was willing to let Comyn believe that she had loved me, and had so eased -the soreness of her refusal. Perhaps, in truth, a sentiment had sprung -up in her breast when she heard of my disappearance, which she mistook -for love. But surely the impulse that sent her to Castle Yard was not -the same as that Comyn had depicted: it was merely the survival of the -fancy of a little girl in a grass-stained frock, who had romped on the -lawn at Carvel Hall. I sighed as I remembered the sun and the flowers -and the blue Chesapeake, and recalled the very toss of her head when she -had said she would marry nothing less than a duke. - -Alas, Dolly, perchance it was to be nothing more than a duke! The -bloated face and beady eyes and the broad crooked back I had seen that -day in Arlington Street rose before me,--I should know his Grace of -Chartersea again were I to meet him in purgatory. Was it, indeed, -possible that I could prevent her marriage with this man? I fell asleep, -repeating the query, as the dawn was sifting through the blinds. - -I awakened late. Banks was already there to dress me, to congratulate me -as discreetly as a well-trained servant should; nor did he remind me -of the fact that he had offered to lend me money, for which omission -I liked him the better. In the parlour I found the captain sipping his -chocolate and reading his morning Chronicle, as though all his life he -had done nothing else. - -"Good morning, captain." And fetching him a lick on the back that nearly -upset his bowl, I cried as heartily as I could: - -"Egad, if our luck holds, we'll be sailing before the week is out." - -But he looked troubled. He hemmed and hawed, and finally broke out into -Scotch: - -"Indeed, laddie, y'ell no be leaving Miss Dorothy for me." - -"What nonsense has Comyn put into your head?" I demanded, with a stitch -in my side; I am no more to Miss Manners than--" - -"Than John Paul! Faith, y'ell not make me believe that. Ah, Richard," -said he, "ye're a sly dog. You and I have been as thick these twa months -as men can well live, and never a word out of you of the most sublime -creature that walks. I have seen women in many countries, lad, beauties -to set thoughts afire and swords a-play,--and 'tis not her beauty alone. -She hath a spirit for a queen to covet, and air and carriage, too." - -This eloquent harangue left me purple. - -"I grant it all, captain. She has but to choose her title and estate." - -"Ay, and I have a notion which she'll be choosing." - -"The knowledge is worth a thousand pounds at the least," I replied. "I -will lend you the sum, and warrant no lack of takers." - -"Now the devil fly off with such temperament! And I had half the -encouragement she has given you, I would cast anchor on the spot, and -they might hang and quarter me to move me. But I know you well," he -exclaimed, his manner changing, "you are making this great sacrifice -on my account. And I will not be a drag on your pleasures, Richard, or -stand in the way of your prospects." - -"Captain Paul," I said, sitting down beside him, "have I deserved this -from you? Have I shown a desire to desert you now that my fortunes have -changed? I have said that you shall taste of our cheer at Carvel Hall, -and have looked forward this long while to the time when I shall take -you to my grandfather and say: 'Mr. Carvel, this is he whose courage -and charity have restored you to me, and me to you.' And he will have -changed mightily if you do not have the best in Maryland. Should you -wish to continue on the sea, you shall have the Belle of the Wye, -launched last year. 'Tis time Captain Elliott took to his pension." - -The captain sighed, and a gleam I did not understand came into his dark -eyes. - -"I would that God had given me your character and your heart, Richard," -he said, "in place of this striving thing I have within me. But 'tis -written that a leopard cannot change his spots." - -"The passage shall be booked this day," I said. - -That morning was an eventful one. Comyn arrived first, dressed in a suit -of mauve French cloth that set off his fine figure to great advantage. -He regarded me keenly as he entered, as if to discover whether I had -changed my mind over night. And I saw he was not in the best of tempers. - -"And when do you sail?" he cried. "I have no doubt you have sent out -already to get passage." - -"I have been trying to persuade Mr. Carvel to remain in London, my -Lord," said the captain. "I tell him he is leaving his best interests -behind him." - -"I fear that for once you have undertaken a task beyond your ability, -Captain Paul," was the rather tart reply. - -"The captain has a ridiculous idea that he is the cause of my going," I -said quickly. - -John Paul rose somewhat abruptly, seized his hat and bowed to his -Lordship, and in the face of a rain sallied out, remarking that he had -as yet seen nothing of the city. - -"Jack, you must do me the favour not to talk of this in John Paul's -presence," I said, when the door had closed. - -"If he doesn't suspect why you are going, he has more stupidity than I -gave him credit for," Comyn answered gruffly. - -"I fear he does suspect," I said. - -His Lordship went to the table and began to write, leaving me to the -Chronicle, the pages of which I did not see. Then came Mr. Dix, and -such a change I had never beheld in mortal man. In place of the would-be -squire I had encountered in Threadneedle Street, here was an unctuous -person of business in sober gray; but he still wore the hypocritical -smirk with no joy in it. His bow was now all respectful obedience. Comyn -acknowledged it with a curt nod. - -Mr. Dix began smoothly, where a man of more honesty would have found the -going difficult. - -"Mr. Carvel," he said, rubbing his hands, "I wish first to express my -profound regrets for what has happened." - -"Curse your regrets," said Comyn, bluntly. "You come here on business. -Mr. Carvel does not stand in need of regrets at present." - -"I was but on the safe side of Mr. Carvel's money, my Lord." - -"Ay, I'll warrant you are always on the safe side of money," replied -Comyn, with a laugh. "What I wish to know, Mr. Dix," he continued, "is -whether you are willing to take my word that this is Mr. Richard Carvel, -the grandson and heir of Lionel Carvel, Esquire, of Carvel Hall in -Maryland?" - -"I am your Lordship's most obedient servant," said Mr. Dix. - -"Confound you, sir! Can you or can you not answer a simple question?" - -Mr. Dix straightened. He may have spoken elsewhere of asserting his -dignity. - -"I would not presume to doubt your Lordship's word." - -"Then, if I were to be personally responsible for such sums as Mr. -Carvel may need, I suppose you would be willing to advance them to him." - -"Willingly, willingly, my Lord," said Mr. Dix, and added immediately: -"Your Lordship will not object to putting that in writing? Merely a -matter of form, as your Lordship knows, but we men of affairs are held -to a strict accountability." - -Comyn made a movement of disgust, took up a pen and wrote out the -indorsement. - -"There," he said. "You men of affairs will at least never die of -starvation." - -Mr. Dix took the paper with a low bow, began to shower me with -protestations of his fidelity to my grandfather's interests, which -were one day to be my own,--he hoped, with me, not soon,--drew from his -pocket more than sufficient for my immediate wants, said that I should -have more by a trusty messenger, and was going on to clear himself of -his former neglect and indifference, when Banks announced: - -"His honour, Mr. Manners!" - -Comyn and I exchanged glances, and his Lordship gave a low whistle. Nor -was the circumstance without its effect upon Mr. Dix. With my knowledge -of the character of Dorothy's father I might have foreseen this visit, -which came, nevertheless, as a complete surprise. For a moment I -hesitated, and then made a motion to show him up. Comyn voiced my -decision. - -"Why let the little cur stand in the way?" he said; "he counts for -nothing." - -Mr. Marmaduke was not long in ascending, and tripped into the room as -Mr. Dix backed out of it, as gayly as tho' he had never sent me about -my business in the street. His clothes, of a cherry cut velvet, were as -ever a little beyond the fashion, and he carried something I had never -before seen, then used by the extreme dandies in London,--an umbrella. - -"What! Richard Carvel! Is it possible?" he screamed in his piping voice. -"We mourned you for dead, and here you turn up in London alive and well, -and bigger and stronger than ever. Oons! one need not go to Scripture -for miracles. I shall write my congratulations to Mr. Carvel this day, -sir." And he pushed his fingers into my waistcoat, so that Comyn and -I were near to laughing in his face. For it was impossible to be angry -with a little coxcomb of such pitiful intelligence. - -"Ah, good morning, my Lord. I see your Lordship has risen early in -the same good cause, I myself am up two hours before my time. You will -pardon the fuss I am making over the lad, Comyn, but his grandfather -is my very dear friend, and Richard was brought up with my daughter -Dorothy. They were like brother and sister. What, Richard, you will not -take my hand! Surely you are not so unreasonable as to hold against -me that unfortunate circumstance in Arlington Street! Yes, Dorothy has -shocked me. She has told me of it." - -Comyn winked at me as I replied:-- - -"We shan't mention it, Mr. Manners. I have had my three weeks in prison, -and perhaps know the world all the better for them." - -He held up his umbrella in mock dismay, and stumbled abruptly into a -chair. There he sat looking at me, a whimsical uneasiness on his face. -"We shall indeed mention it, sir. Three weeks in prison, to think of -it! And you would not so much as send me a line. Ah, Richard, pride is a -good thing, but I sometimes think we from Maryland have too much of -it. We shall indeed speak of the matter. Out of justice to me you -must understand how it occurred. You must know that I am deucedly -absentminded, and positively lost without my glass. And I had somebody -with me, so Dorothy said. Chartersea, I believe. And his Grace made me -think you were a cursed beggar. I make a point never to have to do with -'em." - -"You are right, Mr. Manners," Comyn cut in dryly; "for I have known them -to be so persistently troublesome, when once encouraged, as to interfere -seriously with our arrangements." - -"Eh!" Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I -wondered whether the shot had told. To relieve him I inquired after Mrs. -Manners's health. - -"Ah, to be sure," he replied, beginning to fumble in his skirts; "London -agrees with her remarkably, and she is better than she has been for -years. And she is overjoyed at your most wonderful escape, Richard, as -are we all." - -And he gave me a note. I concealed my eagerness as I took it and broke -the seal, to discover that it was not from Dorothy, but from Mrs. -Manners herself. - - "My dear Richard" (so it ran), "I thank God with your dear - Grandfather over y'r Deliverance, & you must bring y'r Deliverer, - whom Dorothy describes as Courtly and Gentlemanly despite his - Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him - our Gratitude. I know you are far too Sensible not to come to - Arlington Street. I subscribe myself, Richard, y'r sincere Friend, - - "MARGARET MANNERS." - -There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped. -But the letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the -affection she had always had for me. I honoured her the more that she -had not attempted to excuse Mr. Manners's conduct. - -"You will come, Richard?" cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at -heartiness. "You must come, and the captain, too. For I hear, with -regret, that you are not to be long with us." - -I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window -curtains. But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul. -Mr. Manners rose to take his leave. - -"Dorothy will be glad to see you," he said. "I often think, Richard, -that she tires of these generals and King's ministers, and longs for -a romp at Wilmot House again. Alas," he sighed, offering us a pinch of -snuff (which he said was the famous Number 37), "alas, she has had a -deal too much of attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen -others would to marry her. I fear she will go soon," and he sighed -again. "Upon my soul I cannot make her out. I'll lay something handsome, -my Lord, that the madcap adventure with you after Richard sets the -gossips going. One day she is like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for -not taking her mother's advice to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden -House; and the next, egad, she is as difficult to approach as a crowned -head. Well, gentlemen, I give you good day, I have an appointment at -White's. I am happy to see you have fallen in good hands, Richard. My -Lord, your most obedient!" - -"He'll lay something handsome!" said my Lord, when the door had closed -behind him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. ARLINGTON STREET - -The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,--being -ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,--I left him a message and -betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy's house. The -door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered -me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told -me the ladies were not at home. But I had not gone a dozen paces in my -disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour -were Mr. Richard Carvel. - -"The ladies will see your honour," he said, and conducted me back into -the house and up the wide stairs. I had heard that Arlington Street was -known as the street of the King's ministers, and I surmised that Mr. -Manners had rented this house, and its furniture, from some great man -who had gone out of office, plainly a person of means and taste. The -hall, like that of many of the great town-houses, was in semi-darkness, -but I remarked that the stair railing was of costly iron-work and -polished brass; and, as I went up, that the stone niches in the wall -were filled with the busts of statesmen, and I recognized among these, -that of the great Walpole. A great copper gilt chandelier hung above. -But the picture of the drawing-room I was led into, with all its -colours, remains in the eye of my mind to this day. It was a large room, -the like of which I had never seen in any private residence of the New -World, situated in the back of the house. Its balcony overlooked the -fresh expanse of the Green Park. Upon its high ceiling floated Venus and -the graces, by Zucchi; and the mantel, upon which ticked an antique and -curious French clock, was carved marble. - -On the gilt panels of the walls were wreaths of red roses. At least -a half-dozen tall mirrors, framed in rococos, were placed about, the -largest taking the space between the two high windows on the park side. -And underneath it stood a gold cabinet, lacquered by Martin's inimitable -hand, in the centre of which was set a medallion of porcelain, with -the head in dark blue of his Majesty, Charles the First. The chairs and -lounges were marquetry,--satin-wood and mahogany,--with seats and backs -of blue brocade. The floor was polished to the degree of danger, and -on the walls hung a portrait by Van Dycke, another, of a young girl, by -Richardson, a landscape by the Dutch artist Ruysdael, and a water-colour -by Zaccarelli. - -I had lived for four months the roughest of lives, and the room brought -before me so sharply the contrast between my estate and the grandeur and -elegance in which Dorothy lived, that my spirits fell as I looked about -me. In front of me was a vase of flowers, and beside them on the table -lay a note "To Miss Manners, in Arlington Street," and sealed with -a ducal crest. I was unconsciously turning it over, when something -impelled me to look around. There, erect in the doorway, stood Dolly, -her eyes so earnestly fixed upon me that I dropped the letter with a -start. A faint colour mounted to her crown of black hair. - -"And so you have come, Richard," she said. Her voice was low, and tho' -there was no anger in it, the tone seemed that of reproach. I wondered -whether she thought the less of me for coming. - -"Can you blame me for wishing to see you before I leave, Dolly?" I -cried, and crossed quickly over to her. - -But she drew a step backward. - -"Then it is true that you are going," said she, this time with a plain -note of coldness. - -"I must, Dorothy." - -"When?" - -"As soon as I can get passage." - -She passed me and seated herself on the lounge, leaving me to stand like -a lout before her, ashamed of my youth and of the clumsiness of my great -body. - -"Ah, Richard," she laughed, "confess to your old play mate! I should -like to know how many young men of wealth and family would give up -the pleasures of a London season were there not a strong attraction in -Maryland." - -How I longed to tell her that I would give ten years of my life to -remain in England: that duty to John Paul took me home. But I was dumb. - -"We should make a macaroni of you to amaze our colony," said Dolly, -lightly, as I sat down a great distance away; "to accept my schooling -were to double your chances when you return, Richard. You should have -cards to everything, and my Lord Comyn or Mr. Fox or some one would -introduce you at the clubs. I vow you would be a sensation, with your -height and figure. You should meet all the beauties of England, and -perchance," she added mischievously, "perchance you might be taking one -home with you." - -"Nay, Dolly," I answered; "I am not your match in jesting." - -"Jesting!" she exclaimed, "I was never more sober. But where is your -captain?" - -I said that I hoped that John Paul would be there shortly. - -"How fanciful he is! And his conversation,--one might think he had -acquired the art at Marly or in the Fauxbourg. In truth, he should have -been born on the far side of the Channel. And he has the air of the -great man," said she, glancing up at ms, covertly. "For my part, I -prefer a little more bluntness." - -I was nettled at the speech. Dorothy had ever been quick to seize upon -and ridicule the vulnerable oddities of a character, and she had all -the contempt of the great lady for those who tried to scale by pleasing -arts. I perceived with regret that she had taken a prejudice. - -"There, Dorothy," I cried, "not even you shall talk so of the captain. -For you have seen him at his worst. There are not many, I warrant you, -born like him a poor gardener's son who rise by character and ability -to be a captain at three and twenty. And he will be higher yet. He -has never attended any but a parish school, and still has learning to -astonish Mr. Walpole, learning which he got under vast difficulties. He -is a gentleman, I say, far above many I have known, and he is a man. -If you would know a master, you should see him on his own ship. If you -would know a gentleman, you have been with me in his mother's cottage." -And, warming as I talked, I told her of that saddest of all homecomings -to the little cabin under Criffel's height. - -Small wonder that I adored Dorothy! - -Would that I could paint her moods, that I might describe the strange -light in her eyes when I had finished, that I might tell how in an -instant she was another woman. She rose impulsively and took a chair at -my side, and said:-- - -"'Tis so I love to hear you speak, Richard, when you uphold the absent. -For I feel it is so you must champion me when I am far away. My dear old -playmate is ever the same, strong to resent, and seeing ever the best in -his friends. Forgive me, Richard, I have been worse than silly. And will -you tell me that story of your adventures which I long to learn?" - -Ay, that I would. I told it her, and she listened silently, save only -now and then a cry of wonder or of sympathy that sounded sweet to my -ears,--just as I had dreamed of her listening when I used to pace the -deck of the brigantine John, at sea. And when at length I had finished, -she sat looking out over the Green Park, as tho' she had forgot my -presence. - -And so Mrs. Manners came in and found us. - -It had ever pleased me to imagine that Dorothy's mother had been in her -youth like Dorothy. She had the same tall figure, grace in its every -motion, and the same eyes of deep blue, and the generous but well-formed -mouth. A man may pity, but cannot conceive the heroism that a woman of -such a mould must have gone through who has been married since early -girlhood to a man like Mr. Manners. Some women would have been driven -quickly to frivolity, and worse, but this one had struggled year after -year to maintain an outward serenity to a critical world, and had -succeeded, tho' success had cost her dear. Each trial had deepened a -line of that face, had done its share to subdue the voice which had once -rung like Dorothy's; and in the depths of her eyes lingered a sadness -indefinable. - -She gazed upon me with that kindness and tenderness I had always -received since the days when, younger and more beautiful than now, she -was the companion of my mother. And the unbidden shadow of a thought -came to me that these two sweet women had had some sadness in -common. Many a summer's day I remembered them sewing together in the -spring-house, talking in subdued voices which were hushed when I came -running in. And lo! the same memory was on Dorothy's mother then, half -expressed as she laid her hands upon my shoulders. - -"Poor Elizabeth!" she said,--not to me, nor yet to Dorothy; "I wish that -she might have lived to see you now. It is Captain Jack again." - -She sighed, and kissed me. And I felt at last that I had come home after -many wanderings. We sat down, mother and daughter on the sofa with their -fingers locked. She did not speak of Mr. Manners's conduct, or of my -stay in the sponging-house. And for this I was thankful. - -"I have had a letter from Mr. Lloyd, Richard," she said. - -"And my grandfather?" I faltered, a thickness in my throat. - -"My dear boy," answered Mrs. Manners, gently, "he thinks you dead. But -you have written him?" she added hurriedly. - -I nodded. "From Dumfries." - -"He will have the letter soon," she said cheerfully. "I thank Heaven -I am able to tell you that his health is remarkable under the -circumstances. But he will not quit the house, and sees no one except -your uncle, who is with him constantly." - -It was what I expected. But the confirmation of it brought me to my feet -in a torrent of indignation, exclaiming: - -"The villain! You tell me he will allow Mr. Carvel to see no one?" - -She started forward, laying her hand on my arm, and Dorothy gave a -little cry. - -"What are you saying, Richard? What are you saying?" - -"Mrs. Manners," I answered, collecting myself, "I must tell you that -I believe it is Grafton Carvel himself that is responsible for my -abduction. He meant that I should be murdered." - -Then Dorothy rose, her eyes flashing and her head high. - -"He would have murdered you--you, Richard?" she cried, in such a storm -of anger as I had never seen her. "Oh, he should hang for the thought of -it! I have always suspected Grafton Carvel capable of any crime!" - -"Hush, Dorothy," said her mother; "it is not seemly for a young girl to -talk so." - -"Seemly!" said Dorothy. "If I were a man I would bring him to justice, -and it took me a lifetime. Nay, if I were a man and could use a sword--" - -"Dorothy! Dorothy!" interrupted Mrs. Manners. - -Dorothy sat down, the light lingering in her eyes. She had revealed more -of herself in that instant than in all her life before. - -"It is a grave charge, Richard," said Mrs. Manners, at length. "And your -uncle is a man of the best standing in Annapolis." - -"You must remember his behaviour before my mother's marriage, Mrs. -Manners." - -"I do, I do, Richard," she said sadly. "And I have never trusted him -since. I suppose you are not making your accusation without cause?" - -"I have cause enough," I answered bitterly. - -"And proof?" she added. She should have been the man in her family. - -I told her how Harvey had overheard the bits of the plot at Carvel Hall -near two years gone; and now that I had begun, I was going through with -Mr. Allen's part in the conspiracy, when Dorothy startled us both by -crying: - -"Oh, there is so much wickedness in the world, I wish I had never been -born!" - -She flung herself from the room in a passion of tears to shock me. As if -in answer to my troubled look, Mrs. Manners said, with a sigh: - -"She has not been at all well, lately, Richard. I fear the gayety -of this place is too much for her. Indeed, I am sorry we ever left -Maryland." - -I was greatly disturbed, and thought involuntarily of Comyn's words. -Could it be that Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry Chartersea? - -"And has Mr. Lloyd said nothing of my uncle?" I asked after a while. - -"I will not deny that ugly rumours are afloat," she answered. "Grafton, -as you know, is not liked in Annapolis, especially by the Patriot party. -But there is not the slightest ground for suspicion. The messenger--" - -"Yes?" - -"Your uncle denies all knowledge of. He was taken to be the tool of -the captain of the slaver, and he disappeared so completely that it was -supposed he had escaped to the ship. The story goes that you were seized -for a ransom, and killed in the struggle. Your black ran all the way to -town, crying the news to those he met on the Circle and in West Street, -but by the mercy of God he was stopped by Mr. Swain and some others -before he had reached your grandfather. In ten minutes a score of men -were galloping out of the Town Gate, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Singleton ahead. -They found your horse dead, and the road through the woods all trampled -down, and they spurred after the tracks down to the water's edge. -Singleton recalled a slaver, the crew of which had been brawling at the -Ship tavern a few nights before. But the storm was so thick they could -not see the ship's length out into the river. They started two fast -sloops from the town wharves in chase, and your uncle has been moving -heaven and earth to obtain some clew of you. He has put notices in the -newspapers of Charlestown, Philadelphia, New York, and even Boston, and -offered a thousand pounds reward." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. I MEET A VERY GREAT YOUNG MAN - -The French clock had struck four, and I was beginning to fear that, -despite my note, the captain's pride forbade his coming to Mr. Manners's -house, when in he walked, as tho' 'twere no novelty to have his name -announced. And so straight and handsome was he, his dark eye flashing -with the self-confidence born in the man, that the look of uneasiness I -had detected upon Mrs. Manners's face quickly changed to one of surprise -and pleasure. Of course the good lady had anticipated a sea-captain of -a far different mould. He kissed her hand with a respectful grace, and -then her daughter's, for Dorothy had come back to us, calmer. And I was -filled with joy over his fine appearance. Even Dorothy was struck by -the change the clothes had made in him. Mrs. Manners thanked him very -tactfully for restoring me to them, as she was pleased to put it, to -which John Paul modestly replied that he had done no more than another -would under the same circumstances. And he soon had them both charmed by -his address. - -"Why, Richard," said Dorothy's mother aside to me, "surely this cannot -be your sea-captain!" - -I nodded merrily. But John Paul's greatest triumph was yet to come. For -presently Mr. Marmaduke arrived from White's, and when he had greeted me -with effusion he levelled his glass at the corner of the room. - -"Ahem!" he exclaimed. "Pray, my dear, whom have you invited to-day?" And -without awaiting her reply, as was frequently his habit, he turned to -me and said: "I had hoped we were to have the pleasure of Captain Paul's -company, Richard. For I must have the chance before you go of clasping -the hand of your benefactor." - -"You shall have the chance, at least, sir," I replied, a fiery -exultation in my breast. "Mr. Manners, this is my friend, Captain Paul." - -The captain stood up and bowed gravely at the little gentleman's blankly -amazed countenance. - -"Ahem," said he; "dear me, is it possible!" and advanced a step, but -the captain remained immovable. Mr. Marmaduke fumbled for his snuff-box, -failed to find it, halted, and began again, for he never was known -to lack words for long: "Captain, as one of the oldest friends of Mr. -Lionel Carvel, I claim the right to thank you in his name for your -gallant conduct. I hear that you are soon to see him, and to receive his -obligations from him in person. You will not find him lacking, sir, I'll -warrant." - -Such was Mr. Marmaduke's feline ingenuity! I had a retort ready, and I -saw that Mrs. Manners, long tried in such occasions, was about to pour -oil on the waters. But it was Dorothy who exclaimed: - -"What captain! are you, too, going to Maryland?" - -John Paul reddened. - -"Ay, that he is, Dolly," I cut in hurriedly. "Did you imagine I would -let him escape so easily? Henceforth as he has said, he is to be an -American." - -She flashed at me such a look as might have had a dozen different -meanings, and in a trice it was gone again under her dark lashes. - -Dinner was got through I know not how. Mr. Manners led the talk, and -spoke more than was needful concerning our approaching voyage. He was at -great pains to recommend the Virginia packet, which had made the fastest -passage from the Capes; and she sailed, as was no doubt most convenient, -the Saturday following. I should find her a comfortable vessel, and he -would oblige me with a letter to Captain Alsop. Did Captain Paul know -him? But the captain was describing West Indian life to Mrs. Manners. -Dorothy had little to say; and as for me, I was in no very pleasant -humour. - -I gave a deaf ear to Mr. Marmaduke's sallies, to speculate on the nature -of the disgrace which Chartersea was said to hold over his head. And -twenty times, as I looked upon Dolly's beauty, I ground my teeth at -the notion of returning home. I have ever been slow of suspicion, but -suddenly it struck me sharply that Mr. Manners's tactics must have a -deeper significance than I had thought. Why was it that he feared my -presence in London? - -As we made our way back to the drawing-room, I was hoping for a talk -with Dolly (alas! I should not have many more), when I heard a voice -which sounded strangely familiar. - -"You know, Comyn," it was saying, "you know I should be at the -Princess's were I not so completely worn out. I was up near all of last -night with Rosette." - -Mr. Marmaduke, entering before us, cried:-- - -"The dear creature! I trust you have had medical attendance, Mr. -Walpole." - -"Egad!" quoth Horry (for it was he), "I sent Favre to Hampstead to fetch -Dr. Pratt, where he was attending some mercer's wife. It seems that -Rosette had got into the street and eaten something horrible out of the -kennel. I discharged the footman, of course." - -"A plague on your dog, Horry," said my Lord, yawning, and was about to -add something worse, when he caught sight of Dorothy. - -Mr. Walpole bowed over her hand. - -"And have you forgotten so soon your Windsor acquaintances, Mr. -Walpole?" she asked, laughing. - -"Bless me," said Horry, looking very hard at me, "so it is, so it -is. Your hand, Mr. Carvel. You have only to remain in London, sir, to -discover that your reputation is ready-made. I contributed my mite. For -you must know that I am a sort of circulating library of odd news which -those devils, the printers, contrive to get sooner or later--Heaven -knows how! And Miss Manners herself has completed your fame. Yes, the -story of your gallant rescue is in all the clubs to-day. Egad, sir, you -come down heads up, like a loaded coin. You will soon be a factor in -Change Alley." And glancing slyly at the blushing Dolly, he continued: - -"I have been many things, Miss Manners, but never before an instrument -of Providence. And so you discovered your rough diamond yesterday, and -have polished him in a day. O that Dr. Franklin had profited as well -by our London tailors! The rogue never told me, when he was ordering me -about in his swan-skin, that he had a friend in Arlington Street, and a -reigning beauty. But I like him the better for it." - -"And I the worse," said Dolly. - -"I perceive that he still retains his body-guard," said Mr. Walpole; -"Captain--" - -"Paul," said Dolly, seeing that we would not help him out. - -"Ah, yes. These young princes from the New World must have their suites. -You must bring them both some day to my little castle at Strawberry -Hill." - -"Unfortunately, Mr. Walpole, Mr. Carvel finds that he must return to -America," Mr. Marmaduke interjected. He had been waiting to get in this -word. - -Comyn nudged me. And I took the opportunity, in the awkward silence that -followed, to thank Mr. Walpole for sending his coach after us. - -"And pray where did you get your learning?" he demanded abruptly of the -captain, in his most patronizing way. "Your talents are wasted at sea, -sir. You should try your fortune in London, where you shall be under -my protection, sir. They shall not accuse me again of stifling young -genius. Stay," he cried, warming with generous enthusiasm, "stay, I have -an opening. 'Twas but yesterday Lady Cretherton told me that she -stood in need of a tutor for her youngest son, and you shall have the -position." - -"Pardon me, sir, but I shall not have the position," said John Paul, -coolly. And Horry might have heeded the danger signal. I had seen it -more than once on board the brigantine John, and knew what was coming. - -"Faith, and why not, sir? If I recommend you, why not, sir?" - -"Because I shall not take it," he said. "I have my profession, Mr. -Walpole, and it is an honourable one. And I would not exchange it, sir, -were it in your power to make me a Gibbon or a Hume, or tutor to his -Royal Highness, which it is not." - -Thus, for the second time, the weapon of the renowned master of -Strawberry was knocked from his hand at a single stroke of his -strange adversary. I should like to describe John Paul as he made that -speech,--for 'twas not so much the speech as the atmosphere of it. Those -who heard and saw were stirred with wonder, for Destiny lay bare that -instant, just as the powers above are sometimes revealed at a single -lightning-bolt. Mr. Walpole made a reply that strove hard to be -indifferent; Mr. Marmaduke stuttered, for he was frightened, as little -souls are apt to be at such times. But my Lord Comyn, forever natural, -forever generous, cried out heartily:-- - -"Egad, captain, there you are a true sailor! Which would you rather have -been, I say, William Shakespeare or Sir Francis?" - -"Which would you rather be, Richard," said Dolly to me, under her -breath, "Horace Walpole or Captain John Paul? I begin to like your -captain better." - -Willy nilly, Mr. Walpole was forever doing me a service. Now, in order -to ignore the captain more completely, he sat him down to engage Mr. -and Mrs. Manners. Comyn was soon hot in an argument with John Paul -concerning the seagoing qualities of a certain frigate, every rope and -spar of which they seemed to know. And so I stole a few moments with -Dorothy. - -"You are going to take the captain to Maryland, Richard?" she asked, -playing with her fan. - -"I intend to get him the Belle of the Tye. 'Tis the least I can do. For -I am at my wits' end how to reward him, Dolly. And when are you coming -back?" I whispered earnestly, seeing her silent. - -"I would that I knew, Richard," she replied, with a certain sadness that -went to my heart, as tho' the choice lay beyond her. Then she changed. -"Richard, there was more in Mr. Lloyd's letter than mamma told you of. -There was ill news of one of your friends." - -"News!" - -She looked at me fixedly, and then continued, her voice so low that I -was forced to bend over: - -"Yes. You were not told that Patty Swain fell in a faint when she heard -of your disappearance. You were not told that the girl was ill for a -week afterwards. Ah, Richard, I fear you are a sad flirt. Nay, you may -benefit by the doubt,--perchance you are going home to be married." - -You may be sure that this intelligence, from Dorothy's lips, only -increased my trouble and perplexity. - -"You say that Patty has been ill?" - -"Very ill," says she, with her lips tight closed. - -"Indeed, I grieve to hear of it," I replied; "but I cannot think that my -accident had anything to do with the matter." - -"Young ladies do not send their fathers to coffee-houses to prevent -duels unless their feelings are engaged," she flung back. - -"You have heard the story of that affair, Dorothy. At least enough of it -to do me justice." - -She was plainly agitated. - -"Has Lord Comyn--" - -"Lord Comyn has told you the truth," I said; "so much I know." - -Alas for the exits and entrances of life! Here comes the footman. - -"Mr. Fox," said he, rolling the name, for it was a great one. - -Confound Mr. Fox! He might have waited five short minutes. - -It was, in truth, none other than that precocious marvel of England who -but a year before had taken the breath from the House of Commons, and -had sent his fame flying over the Channel and across the wide Atlantic; -the talk of London, who set the fashions, cringed not before white -hairs, or royalty, or customs, or institutions, and was now, at one and -twenty, Junior Lord of the Admiralty--Charles James Fox. His face was -dark, forbidding, even harsh--until he smiled. His eyebrows were heavy -and shaggy, and his features of a rounded, almost Jewish mould. He put -me in mind of the Stuarts, and I was soon to learn that he was descended -from them. - -As he entered the room I recall remarking that he was possessed of the -supremest confidence of any man I had ever met. Mrs. Manners he greeted -in one way, Mr. Marmaduke in another, and Mr. Walpole in still another. -To Comyn it was "Hello, Jack," as he walked by him. Each, as it were, -had been tagged with a particular value. - -Chagrined as I was at the interruption, I was struck with admiration. -For the smallest actions of these rare men of master passions so compel -us. He came to Dorothy, whom he seemed not to have perceived at first, -and there passed between them such a look of complete understanding that -I suddenly remembered Comyn's speech of the night before, "Now it is -Charles Fox." Here, indeed, was the man who might have won her. And yet -I did not hate him. Nay, I loved him from the first time he addressed -me. It was Dorothy who introduced us. - -"I think I have heard of you, Mr. Carvel," he said, making a barely -perceptible wink at Comyn. - -"And I think I have heard of you, Mr. Fox," I replied. - -"The deuce you have, Mr. Carvel!" said he, and laughed. And Comyn -laughed, and Dorothy laughed, and I laughed. We were friends from that -moment. - -"Richard has appeared amongst us like a comet," put in the ubiquitous -Mr. Manners, "and, I fear, intends to disappear in like manner." - -"And where is the tail of this comet?" demanded Fox, instantly; "for I -understood there was a tail." - -John Paul was brought up, and the Junior Lord of the Admiralty looked -him over from head to toe. And what, my dears, do you think he said to -him? - -"Have you ever acted, Captain Paul?" - -The captain started back in surprise. - -"Acted!" he exclaimed; "really, sir, I do not know. I have never been -upon the boards." - -Mr. Fox vowed that he could act: that he was sure of it, from the -captain's appearance. - -"And I, too, am sure of it, Mr. Fox," cried Dorothy; clapping her hands. -"Persuade him to stay awhile in London, that you may have him at your -next theatricals at Holland House. Why, he knows Shakespeare and Pope -and--and Chaucer by heart, and Ovid and Horace,--is it not so, Mr. -Walpole?" - -"Is not what so, my dear young lady?" asked Mr. Walpole, pretending not -to have heard. - -"There!" exclaimed Dolly, pouting, when the laughter had subsided; "you -make believe to care something about me, and yet will not listen to what -I say." - -I had seen at her feet our own Maryland gallants, the longest of whose -reputations stretched barely from the James to the Schuylkill; but here -in London men were hanging on her words whose names were familiarly -spoken in Paris, and Rome, and Geneva. Not a topic was broached by Mr. -Walpole or Mr. Fox, from the remonstrance of the Archbishop against -masquerades and the coming marriage of my Lord Albemarle to the rights -and wrongs of Mr. Wilkes, but my lady had her say. Mrs. Manners seemed -more than content that she should play the hostess, which she did -to perfection. She contrived to throw poisoned darts at the owner of -Strawberry that started little Mr. Marmaduke to fidgeting in his seat, -and he came to the rescue with all the town-talk at his command. He knew -little else. Could Mr. Walpole tell him of this club of both sexes just -started at Almack's? Mr. Walpole could tell a deal, tho' he took the -pains first to explain that he was becoming too old for such frivolous -and fashionable society. He could not, for the life of him, say why he -was included. But, in spite of Mr. Walpole, John Paul was led out in the -paces that best suited him, and finally, to the undisguised delight -of Mr. Fox, managed to trip Horry upon an obscure point in Athenian -literature. And this broke up the company. - -As we took our leave Dorothy and Mr. Fox were talking together with -lowered voices. - -"I shall see you before I go," I said to her. - -She laughed, and glanced at Mr. Fox. - -"You are not going, Richard Carvel," said she. - -"That you are not, Richard Carvel," said Mr. Fox. - -I smiled, rather lamely, I fear, and said good night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. A CONSPIRACY - -"Banks, where is the captain?" I asked, as I entered the parlour the -next morning. - -"Gone, sir, since seven o'clock," was the reply. "Gone!" I exclaimed; -"gone where?" - -"Faith, I did not ask his honour, sir." - -I thought it strange, but reflected that John Paul was given to whims. -Having so little time before him, he had probably gone to see the sights -he had missed yesterday: the Pantheon, which was building, an account -of which had appeared in all the colonial papers; or the new Blackfriars -Bridge; or the Tower; or perhaps to see his Majesty ride out. The -wonders of London might go hang, for all I cared. Who would gaze at the -King when he might look upon Dorothy! I sighed. I bade Banks dress me in -the new suit Davenport had brought that morning, and then sent him off -to seek the shipping agent of the Virginia packet to get us a cabin. I -would go to Arlington Street as soon as propriety admitted. - -But I had scarce finished my chocolate and begun to smoke in a pleasant -revery, when I was startled by the arrival of two gentlemen. One was -Comyn, and the other none less than Mr. Charles Fox. - -"Now where the devil has your captain flown to?" said my Lord, tossing -his whip on the table. - -"I believe he must be sight-seeing," I said. "I dare swear he has taken -a hackney coach to the Tower." - -"To see the liberation of the idol of the people, I'll lay ten guineas. -But they say the great Mr. Wilkes is to come out quietly, and wishes no -demonstration," said Mr. Fox. "I believe the beggar has some sense, -if the--Greek--would only let him have his way. So your captain is a -Wilkite, Mr. Carvel?" he demanded. - -"I fear you run very fast to conclusions, Mr. Fox," I answered, -laughing, tho' I thought his guess was not far from wrong. - -"I'll lay you the ten guineas he has been to the Tower," said Mr. Fox, -promptly. - -"Done, sir," said I. - -"Hark ye, Richard," said Comyn, stretching himself in an arm-chair; "we -are come to take the wind out of your sails, and leave you without an -excuse for going home. And we want your captain, alive or dead. Charles, -here, is to give him a commission in his Majesty's Navy." - -Then I knew why Dorothy had laughed when I had spoken of seeing her -again. Comyn--bless him!--had told her of his little scheme. - -"Egad, Charles!" cried his Lordship, "to look at his glum face, one -might think we were a couple of Jews who had cornered him." - -Alas for the perversity of the heart! Instead of leaping for joy, as -no doubt they had both confidently expected, I was both troubled and -perplexed by this unlooked-for news. Oak, when bent, is even harder -to bend back again. And so it has ever been with me. I had determined, -after a bitter struggle, to go to Maryland, and had now become used -to that prospect. I was anxious to see my grandfather, and to confront -Grafton Carvel with his villany. And there was John Paul. What would he -think? - -"What ails you, Richard?" Comyn demanded somewhat testily. - -"Nothing, Jack," I replied. "I thank you from my heart, and you, Mr. -Fox. I know that commissions are not to be had for the asking, and I -rejoice with the captain over his good fortune. But, gentlemen," I -said soberly, "I had most selfishly hoped that I might be able to do -a service to John Paul in return for his charity to me. You offer him -something nearer his deserts, something beyond my power to give him." - -Fox's eyes kindled. - -"You speak like a man, Mr. Carvel," said he. "But you are too modest. -Damn it, sir, don't you see that it is you, and no one else, who has -procured this commission? Had I not been taken with you, sir, I should -scarce have promised it to your friend Comyn, through whose interest you -obtain it for your protege." - -I remembered what Mr. Fox's enemies said of him, and smiled at the -plausible twist he had given the facts. - -"No," I said; "no, Mr. Fox; never that. The captain must not think that -I wish to be rid of him. I will not stand in the way, though if it is -to be offered him, he must comprehend that I had naught to do with the -matter. But, sir," I continued curiously, "what do you know of John -Paul's abilities as an officer?" - -Mr. Fox and Comyn laughed so immoderately as to bring the blood to my -face. - -"Damme!" cried the Junior Lord, "but you Americans have odd consciences! -Do you suppose Rigby was appointed Paymaster of the Forces because -of his fitness? Why was North himself made Prime Minister? For his -abilities?" And he broke down again. "Ask Jack, here, how he got into -the service, and how much seamanship he knows." - -"Faith," answered Jack, unblushingly, "Admiral Lord Comyn, my father, -wished me to serve awhile. And so I have taken two cruises, delivered -some score of commands, and scarce know a supple jack from a can of -flip. Cursed if I see the fun of it in these piping times o' peace, so I -have given it up, Richard. For Charles says this Falkland business with -Spain will blow out of the touch-hole." - -I could see little to laugh over. For the very rottenness of the service -was due to the miserable and servile Ministry and Parliament of his -Majesty, by means of which instruments he was forcing the colonies to -the wall. Verily, that was a time when the greatness of England hung -in the balance! How little I suspected that the young man then seated -beside me, who had cast so unthinkingly his mighty powers on the side of -corruption, was to be one of the chief instruments of her salvation! We -were to fight George the Third across the seas. He was to wage no less -courageous a battle at home, in the King's own capital. And the cause? -Yes, the cause was to be the same as that of the Mr. Wilkes he reviled, -who obtained his liberty that day. - -At length John Paul came in, calling my name. He broke off abruptly at -sight of the visitors. - -"Now we shall decide," said Mr. Fox. "Captain, I have bet Mr. Carvel ten -guineas you have been to the Tower to see Squinting Jack (John Wilkes) -get his liberty at last." - -The captain looked astonished. - -"Anan, then, you have lost, Richard," said he. "For I have been just -there." - -"And helped, no doubt, to carry off the champion on your shoulders," -said Mr. Fox, sarcastically, as I paid the debt. - -"Mr. Wilkes knows full well the value of moderation, sir," replied the -captain, in the same tone. - -"Well, damn the odds!" exclaimed the Junior Lord, laughing. "You may -have the magic number tattooed all over your back, for all I care. You -shall have the commission." - -"The commission?" - -"Yes," said Fox, carelessly; "I intend making you a lieutenant, sir, in -the Royal Navy." - -The moment the words were out I was a-tremble as to how he would take -the offer. For he had a certain puzzling pride, which flew hither and -thither. But there was surely no comparison between the situations of -the master of the Belle of the Wye and an officer in the Royal Navy. -There, his talents would make him an admiral, and doubtless give him the -social position he secretly coveted. He confounded us all by his answer. - -"I thank you, Mr. Fox. But I cannot accept your kindness." - -"Slife!" said Fox, "you refuse? And you know what you are doing?" - -"I know usually, sir." - -Comyn swore. My exclamation had something of relief in it. - -"Captain," I said, "I felt that I could not stand in the way of this. -It has been my hope that you will come with me, and I have sent this -morning after a cabin on the Virginia. You must know that Mr. Fox's -offer is his own, and Lord Comyn's." - -"I know it well, Richard. I have not lived these three months with you -for nothing." His voice seemed to fail him. He drew near me and took my -hand. "But did you think I would require of you the sacrifice of leaving -London now?" - -"It is my pleasure as well as my duty, captain." - -"No," he said, "I am not like that. Yesterday I went to the city to see -a shipowner whose acquaintance I made when he was a master in the West -India trade. He has had some reason to know that I can handle a ship. -Never mind what. And he has given me the bark 'Betsy', whose former -master is lately dead of the small-pox. Richard, I sail to-morrow." - - -In Dorothy's coach to Whitehall Stairs, by the grim old palace out of -whose window Charles the Martyr had walked to his death. For Dorothy had -vowed it was her pleasure to see John Paul off, and who could stand -in her way? Surely not Mr. Marmaduke! and Mrs. Manners laughingly -acquiesced. Our spirits were such that we might have been some honest -mercer's apprentice and his sweetheart away for an outing. - -"If we should take a wherry, Richard," said Dolly, "who would know of -it? I have longed to be in a wherry ever since I came to London." - -The river was smiling as she tripped gayly down to the water, and the -red-coated watermen were smiling, too, and nudging one another. But -little cared we! Dolly in holiday humour stopped for naught. "Boat, your -honour! Boat, boat! To Rotherhithe--Redriff? Two and six apiece, sir." -For that intricate puzzle called human nature was solved out of hand by -the Thames watermen. Here was a young gentleman who never heard of the -Lord Mayor's scale of charges. And what was a shilling to such as he! -Intricate puzzle, indeed! Any booby might have read upon the young man's -face that secret which is written for all,--high and low, rich and poor -alike. - -My new lace handkerchief was down upon the seat, lest Dolly soil her -bright pink lutestring. She should have worn nothing else but the hue of -roses. How the bargemen stared, and the passengers craned their necks, -and the longshoremen stopped their work as we shot past them! On her -account a barrister on the Temple Stairs was near to letting fall -his bag in the water. A lady in a wherry! Where were the whims of the -quality to lead them next? Past the tall water-tower and York Stairs, -the idlers under the straight row of trees leaning over the high river -wall; past Adelphi Terrace, where the great Garrick lived; past the -white columns of Somerset House, with its courts and fountains and -alleys and architecture of all ages, and its river gate where many a -gilded royal barge had lain, and many a fine ambassador had arrived in -state over the great highway of England; past the ancient trees in the -Temple Gardens. And then under the new Blackfriars Bridge to Southwark, -dingy with its docks and breweries and huddled houses, but forever -famous,--the Southwark of Shakespeare and Jonson and Beaumont and -Fletcher. And the shelf upon which they stood in the library at Carvel -Hall was before my eyes. - -"Yes," said Dolly; "and I recall your mother's name written in faded ink -upon the fly-leaves." - -Ah, London Town, by what subtleties are you tied to the hearts of those -born across the sea? That is one of the mysteries of race. - -Under the pointed arches of old London Bridge, with its hooded shelters -for the weary, to where the massive Tower had frowned for ages upon the -foolish river. And then the forest of ships, and the officious throng of -little wherries and lighters that pressed around them, seeming to say, -"You clumsy giants, how helpless would you be without us!" Soon our own -wherry was dodging among them, ships brought hither by the four winds -of the seas; many discharging in the stream, some in the docks then -beginning to be built, and hugging the huge warehouses. Hides from -frozen Russia were piled high beside barrels of sugar and rum from the -moist island cane-fields of the Indies, and pipes of wine from the sunny -hillsides of France, and big boxes of tea bearing the hall-mark of the -mysterious East. Dolly gazed in wonder. And I was commanded to show her -a schooner like the Black Moll, and a brigantine like the John. - -"And Captain Paul told me you climbed the masts, Richard, and worked -like a common seaman. Tell me," says she, pointing at the royal yard of -a tall East Indiaman, "did you go as high as that when it was rough?" - -And, hugely to the boatman's delight, the minx must needs put her -fingers on the hard welts on my hands, and vow she would be a sailor -and she were a man. But at length we came to a trim-built bark lying off -Redriff Stairs, with the words "Betsy, of London," painted across her -stern. In no time at all, Captain Paul was down the gangway ladder and -at the water-side, too hand Dorothy out. - -"This honour overwhelms me, Miss Manners," he said; "but I know whom to -thank for it." And he glanced slyly at me. - -Dorothy stepped aboard with the air of Queen Elizabeth come to inspect -Lord Howard's flagship. - -"Then you will thank me," said she. "Why, I could eat my dinner off your -deck, captain! Are all merchantmen so clean?" - -John Paul smiled. - -"Not all, Miss Manners," he said. - -"And you are still sailing at the ebb?" I asked. - -"In an hour, Richard, if the wind holds good." - -With what pride he showed us over his ship, the sailors gaping at the -fine young lady. It had taken him just a day to institute his navy -discipline. And Dolly went about exclaiming, and asking an hundred -questions, and merrily catechising me upon the run of the ropes. All was -order and readiness for dropping down the stream when he led us into -his cabin, where he had a bottle of wine and some refreshments laid out -against my coming. - -"Had I presumed to anticipate your visit, Miss Manners, I should have -had something more suitable for a lady," he said. "What, you will not -eat, either, Richard?" - -I could not, so downcast had I become at the thought of parting. I -had sat up half the night before with him in restless argument and -indecision, and even when he had left for Rotherhithe, early that -morning, my mind had not been made. My conscience had insisted that I -should sail with John Paul; that I might never see my deaf grandfather -on earth again. I had gone to Arlington Street that morning resolved to -say farewell to Dorothy. I will not recount the history of that defeat, -my dears. Nay, to this day I know not how she accomplished the matter. -Not once had she asked me to remain, or referred to my going. Nor had -I spoken of it, weakling that I was. She had come down in the pink -lutestring, smiling but pale; and traces of tears in her eyes, I -thought. From that moment I knew that I was defeated. It was she herself -who had proposed going with me to see the Betsy sail. - -"I will drink some Madeira to wish you Godspeed, captain," I said. - -"What is the matter with you, Richard?" Dolly cried; "you are as sour -as my Lord Sandwich after a bad Newmarket. Why, captain," said she, "I -really believe he wants to go, too. The swain pines for his provincial -beauty." - -Poor John Paul! He had not yet learned that good society is seldom -literal. - -"Upon my soul, Miss Manners, there you do him wrong," he retorted, with -ludicrous heat; "you, above all, should know for whom he pines." - -"He has misled you by praising me. This Richard, despite his frank -exterior, is most secretive." - -"There you have hit him, Miss Manners," he declared; "there you have hit -him! We were together night and day, on the sea and on the road, and, -while I poured out my life to him, the rogue never once let fall a hint -of the divine Miss Dorothy. 'Twas not till I got to London that I knew -of her existence, and then only by a chance. You astonish me. You speak -of a young lady in Maryland?" - -Dorothy swept aside my protest. - -"Captain," says she, gravely, "I leave you to judge. What is your -inference, when he fights a duel about a Miss with my Lord Comyn?" - -"A duel!" cried the captain, astounded. - -"Miss Manners persists in her view of the affair, despite my word to the -contrary," I put in rather coldly. - -"But a duel!" cried the captain again; "and with Lord Comyn! Miss -Manners, I fondly thought I had discovered a constant man, but you make -me fear he has had as many flames as I. And yet, Richard," he added -meaningly, "I should think shame on my conduct and I had had such a -subject for constancy as you." - -Dorothy's armour was pierced, and my ill-humour broken down, by this -characteristic speech. We both laughed, greatly to his discomfiture. - -"You had best go home with him, Richard," said Dolly. "I can find my way -back to Arlington Street alone." - -"Nay; gallantry forbids his going with me now," answered John Paul; "and -I have my sailing orders. But had I known of this, I should never have -wasted my breath in persuading him to remain." - -"And did he stand in need of much persuasion, captain?" asked Dolly, -archly. - -Time was pressing, and the owner came aboard, puffing,--a round-faced, -vociferous, jolly merchant, who had no sooner got his breath than he -lost it again upon catching sight of Dolly. - -While the captain was giving the mate his final orders, Mr. Orchardson, -for such was his name, regaled us with a part of his life's history. He -had been a master himself, and mangled and clipped King George's English -as only a true master might. - -"I like your own captain better than ever, Richard," whispered Dolly, -while Mr. Orchardson relieved himself of his quid over the other side; -"how commanding he is! Were I to take passage in the Betsy, I know I -should be in love with him long before we got to Norfolk." - -I took it upon myself to tell Mr. Orchardson, briefly and clearly as I -could, the lamentable story of John Paul's last cruise. For I feared it -might sooner or later reach his ears from prejudiced mouths. And I ended -by relating how the captain had refused a commission in the navy because -he had promised to take the Betsy. This appeared vastly to impress him, -and he forgot Dorothy's presence. - -"Passion o' my 'eart, Mr. Carvel," cried he, excitedly, - -"John Paul's too big a man, an' too good a seaman, to go into the navy -without hinflooence. If flag horfocers I roots of is booted haside to -rankle like a lump o' salt butter in a gallipot, 'ow will a poor Scotch -lieutenant win hadvancement an' he be not o' the King's friends? 'Wilkes -an' Liberty,' say I; 'forever,' say I. An' w'en I see 'im goin' to the -Tower to be'old the Champion, 'Captain Paul,' says I, 'yere a man arfter -my hown 'eart.' My heye, sir, didn't I see 'im, w'n a mere lad, take the -John into Kingston 'arbour in the face o' the worst gale I hever seed -blowed in the Caribbees? An' I says, 'Bill Horchardson, an' ye Never -'ave ships o' yere own, w'ich I 'ope will be, y'ell know were to look -for a marster.' An' I tells 'im that same, Mr. Carvel. I means no -disrespect to the dead, sir, but an' John Paul 'ad discharged the Betsy, -I'd not 'a' been out twenty barrels or more this day by Thames mudlarks -an' scuffle hunters. 'Eave me flat, if 'e'll be two blocks wi' liquor -an' dischargin' cargo. An' ye may rest heasy, Mr. Carvel, I'll not do -wrong by 'im, neither." - -He told me that if I would honour him in Maid Lane, Southwark, I should -have as many pounds as I liked of the best tobacco ever cured in Cuba. -And so he left me to see that the mate had signed all his lighter bills, -shouting to the captain not to forget his cockets at Gravesend. Dolly -and I stood silent while the men hove short, singing a jolly song to -the step. With a friendly wave the round figure of Mr. Orchardson -disappeared over the side, and I knew that the time had come to say -farewell. I fumbled in my waistcoat for the repeater I had bought that -morning over against Temple Bar, in Fleet Street, and I thrust it into -John Paul's hand as he came up. - -"Take this in remembrance of what you have suffered so unselfishly for -my sake, Captain Paul," I said, my voice breaking. "And whatever befalls -you, do not forget that Carvel Hall is your home as well as mine." - -He seemed as greatly affected as was I. Tears forced themselves to his -eyes as he held the watch, which he opened absently to read the simple -inscription I had put there. - -"Oh, Dickie lad!" he cried, "I'll be missing ye sair three hours -hence, and thinking of ye for months to come in the night watches. But -something tells me I'll see ye again." - -And he took me in his arms, embracing me with such fervour that there -was no doubting the sincerity of his feelings. - -"Miss Dorothy," said he, when he was calmer, "I give ye Richard for a -leal and a true heart. Few men are born with the gift of keeping the -affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest. But have no -fear of Richard Carvel." - -Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of -the deepening skies at twilight. - -"Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain," she said gently. Then, with a -quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch -at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: "In token of my gratitude for -bringing him back to us." - -John Paul raised it to his lips. - -"I shall treasure it, Miss Manners, as a memento of the greatest joy of -my life. And that has been," gracefully taking her hand and mine, "the -bringing you two together again." - -Dorothy grew scarlet as she curtseyed. As for me, I could speak never a -word. He stepped over the side to hand her into the wherry, and embraced -me once again. And as we rowed away he waved his hat in a last good-by -from the taffrail. Then the Betsy floated down the Thames. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. "UPSTAIRS INTO THE WORLD" - -It will be difficult, my dears, without bulging this history out of all -proportion, to give you a just notion of the society into which I fell -after John Paul left London. It was, above all, a gaming society. -From that prying and all-powerful God of Chance none, great or small, -escaped. Guineas were staked and won upon frugal King George and his -beef and barley-water; Charles Fox and his debts; the intrigues of -Choiseul and the Du Barry and the sensational marriage of the Due -d'Orleans with Madame de Montesson (for your macaroni knew his Paris -as well as his London); Lord March and his opera singer; and even -the doings of Betty, the apple-woman of St. James's Street, and the -beautiful barmaid of Nando's in whom my Lord Thurlow was said to be -interested. All these, and much more not to be repeated, were duly set -down in the betting-books at White's and Brooks's. - -Then the luxury of the life was something to startle a provincial, even -tho' he came, as did I, from one of the two most luxurious colonies -of the thirteen. Annapolis might be said to be London on a small -scale,--but on a very small scale. The historian of the future need look -no farther than our houses (if any remain), to be satisfied that we had -more than the necessities of existence. The Maryland aristocrat with his -town place and his country place was indeed a parallel of the patrician -at home. He wore his English clothes, drove and rode his English horses, -and his coaches were built in Long Acre. His heavy silver service came -from Fleet Street, and his claret and Champagne and Lisbon and Madeira -were the best that could be bought or smuggled. His sons were often -educated at home, at Eton or Westminster and Oxford or Cambridge. -So would I have been if circumstances had permitted. So was James -Fotheringay, the eldest of the family, and later the Dulany boys, and -half a dozen others I might mention. And then our ladies! 'Tis but -necessary to cite my Aunt Caroline as an extreme dame of fashion, who -had her French hairdresser, Piton. - -As was my aunt to the Duchess of Kingston, so was Annapolis to London. -To depict the life of Mayfair and of St. James's Street during a season -about the year of grace 1770 demands a mightier pen than wields the -writer of these simple memoirs. - -And who was responsible for all this luxury and laxity? Who but the -great Mr. Pitt, then the Earl of Chatham, whose wise policy had made -Britain the ruler of the world, and rich beyond compare. From all -corners of the earth her wealth poured in upon her. Nabob and Caribbee -came from East and West to spend their money in the capital. And -fortunes near as great were acquired by the City merchants themselves. -One by one these were admitted within that charmed circle, whose motto -for ages had been "No Trade," to leaven it with their gold. And to keep -the pace,--nay, to set it, the nobility and landed gentry were sore -pressed. As far back as good Queen Anne, and farther, their ancestors -had gamed and tippled away the acres; and now that John and William, -whose forebears had been good tenants for centuries, were setting their -faces to Liverpool and Birmingham and Leeds, their cottages were empty. -So Lord and Squire went to London to recuperate, and to get their share -of the game running. St. James's Street and St. Stephen's became their -preserves. My Lord wormed himself into a berth in the Treasury, robbed -the country systematically for a dozen of years, and sold the places -and reversions under him to the highest bidder. Boroughs were to be -had somewhat dearer than a pair of colours. And my Lord spent his -spare time--he had plenty of it--in fleecing the pigeons at White's -and Almack's. Here there was no honour, even amongst thieves. And young -gentlemen were hurried through Eton and Oxford, where they learned -to drink and swear and to call a main as well as to play tennis and -billiards and to write Latin, and were thrust into Brooks's before -they knew the difference in value between a farthing and a banknote: at -nineteen they were hardened rake, or accomplished men of the world, or -both. Dissipated noblemen of middle age like March and Sandwich, wits -and beaus and fine gentlemen like Selwyn and Chesterfield and Walpole, -were familiarly called by their first names by youngsters like Fox and -Carlisle and Comyn. Difference of age was no difference. Young Lord -Carlisle was the intimate of Mr. Selwyn, born thirty years before him. - -And whilst I am speaking of intimacies, that short one which sprang -up between me and the renowned Charles Fox has always seemed the most -unaccountable: not on my part, for I fell a victim to him at once. Pen -and paper, brush and canvas, are wholly inadequate to describe the -charm of the man. When he desired to please, his conversation and the -expression of his face must have moved a temperament of stone itself. -None ever had more devoted friends or more ardent admirers. They saw his -faults, which he laid bare before them, but they settled his debts again -and again, vast sums which he lost at Newmarket and at Brooks's. And not -many years after the time of which I now write Lord Carlisle was paying -fifteen hundred a year on the sum he had loaned him, cheerfully denying -himself the pleasures of London as a consequence. - -It was Mr. Fox who discovered for me my lodgings in Dover Street, vowing -that I could not be so out of fashion as to live at an inn. The brief -history of these rooms, as given by him, was this: "A young cub had -owned them, whose mamma had come up from Berkshire on Thursday, beat him -soundly on Friday, paid his debts on Saturday, and had taken him back -on Sunday to hunt with Sir Henry the rest of his life." Dorothy came one -day with her mother and swept through my apartments, commanded all the -furniture to be moved about, ordered me to get pictures for the walls, -and by one fell decree abolished all the ornaments before the landlady, -used as she was to the ways of quality, had time to gasp. - -"Why, Richard," says my lady, "you will be wanting no end of pretty -things to take back to Maryland when you go. You shall come with me -to-morrow to Mr. Josiah Wedgwood's, to choose some of them." - -"Dorothy!" says her mother, reprovingly. - -"And he must have the Chippendale table I saw yesterday at the -exhibition, and chairs to match. And every bachelor should have a punch -bowl--Josiah has such a beauty!" - -But I am running far ahead. Among the notes with which my table was -laden, Banks had found a scrawl. This I made out with difficulty to -convey that Mr. Fox was not attending Parliament that day. If Mr. Carvel -would do him the honour of calling at his lodging, over Mackie's Italian -Warehouse in Piccadilly, at four o'clock, he would take great pleasure -in introducing him at Brooks's Club. In those days 'twas far better for -a young gentleman of any pretensions to remain at home than go to London -and be denied that inner sanctuary,--the younger club at Almack's. Many -the rich brewer's son has embittered his life because it was not given -him to see more than the front of the house from the far side of Pall -Mall. But to be taken there by Charles Fox was an honour falling to few. -I made sure that Dolly was at the bottom of it. - -Promptly at four I climbed the stairs and knocked at Mr. Fox's door. -The Swiss who opened it shook his head dubiously when I asked for his -master, and said he had not been at home that day. - -"But I had an appointment to meet him," I said, thinking it very -strange. - -The man's expression changed. - -"An appointment, sir! Ah, sir, then you are to step in here." And to my -vast astonishment he admitted me into a small room at one side of -the entrance. It was bare as poverty, and furnished with benches, and -nothing more. On one of these was seated a person with an unmistakable -nose and an odour of St. Giles's, who sprang to his feet and then sat -down again dejectedly. I also sat down, wondering what it could mean, -and debating whether to go or stay. - -"Exguse me, your honour," said the person, "but haf you seen Mister -Fox?" - -I said that I, too, was waiting for him, whereat he cast at me a -cunning look beyond my comprehension. Surely, I thought, a man of Fox's -inherited wealth and position could not be living in such a place! -Before the truth and humour of the situation had dawned upon me, I heard -a ringing voice without, swearing in most forcible English, and the door -was thrown open, admitting a tall young gentleman, as striking as I have -ever seen. He paid not the smallest attention to the Jew, who was bowing -and muttering behind me. - -"Mr. Richard Carvel?" said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye. - -I bowed. - -"Gad's life, Mr. Carvel, I'm deuced sorry this should have happened. -Will you come with me?" - -"Exguse me, your honour!" cried the other visitor. - -"Now, what the plague, Aaron!" says he; "you wear out the stairs. Come -to-morrow, or the day after." - -"Ay, 'tis always 'to-morrow' with you fine gentlemen. But I vill bring -the bailiffs, so help me--" - -"Damn 'em!" says the tall young gentleman, as he slammed the door and so -shut off the wail. "Damn 'em, they worry Charles to death. If he would -only stick to quinze and picquet, and keep clear of the hounds*, he need -never go near a broker." - - [*"The "hounds," it appears, were the gentlemen of sharp practices at - White's and Almack's.--D. C. C.] - -"Do you have Jews in America, Mr. Carvel?" Without waiting for -an answer, he led me through a parlour, hung with pictures, and -bewilderingly furnished with French and Italian things, and Japan and -China ware and bronzes, and cups and trophies. "My name is Fitzpatrick, -Mr. Carvel,--yours to command, and Charles's. I am his ally for offence -and defence. We went to school together," he explained simply. - -His manner was so free, and yet so dignified, as to charm me completely. -For I heartily despised all that fustian trumpery of the age. Then came -a voice from beyond, calling:-- - -"That you, Carvel? Damn that fellow Eiffel, and did he thrust you into -the Jerusalem Chamber?" - -"The Jerusalem Chamber!" I exclaimed. - -"Where I keep my Israelites," said he; "but, by Gad's life! I think they -are one and all descended from Job, and not father Abraham at all. He -must have thought me cursed ascetic, eh, Fitz? Did you find the benches -hard? I had 'em made hard as the devil. But if they were of stone, I vow -the flock could find their own straw to sit on." - -"Curse it, Charles," cut in Mr. Fitzpatrick, in some temper, "can't you -be serious for once! He would behave this way, Mr. Carvel, if he were -being shriven by the Newgate ordinary before a last carting to Tyburn. -Charles, Charles, it was Aaron again, and the dog is like to snap at -last. He is talking of bailiffs. Take my advice and settle with him. -Hold Cavendish off another fortnight and settle with him." - -Mr. Fox's reply was partly a laugh, and the rest of it is not to be -printed. He did not seem in the least to mind this wholesale disclosure -of his somewhat awkward affairs. And he continued to dress, or to be -dressed, alternately swearing at his valet and talking to Fitzpatrick -and to me. - -"You are both of a name," said he. "Let a man but be called Richard, and -I seem to take to him. I' faith, I like the hunchback king, and believe -our friend Horry Walpole is right in defending him, despite Davie Hume. -I vow I shall like you, Mr. Carvel." - -I replied that I certainly hoped so. - -"Egad, you come well enough recommended," he said, pulling on his -breeches. "No, Eiffel, cursed if I go en petit maitre to-day. How does -that strike you for a demi saison, Mr. Buckskin? I wore three of 'em -through the customs last year, and March's worked olive nightgown tucked -under my greatcoat, and near a dozen pairs of shirts and stockings. And -each of my servants had on near as much. O Lud, we were amazing-like -beef-eaters or blower pigeons. Sorry you won't meet my brother,--he that -will have the title. He's out of town." - -Going on in this discursory haphazard way while he dressed, he made me -feel much at home. For the young dictator--so Mr. Fitzpatrick informed -me afterward--either took to you or else he did not, and stood upon no -ceremony. After he had chosen a coat with a small pattern and his feet -had been thrust into the little red shoes with the high heels, imported -by him from France, he sent for a hackney-chaise. And the three of us -drove together to Pall Mall. Mr. Brooks was at the door, and bowed from -his hips as we entered. - -"A dozen vin de Graves, Brooks!" cries Mr. Fox, and ushers me into -a dining room, with high curtained windows and painted ceiling, and -chandeliers throwing a glitter of light. There, at a long table, -surrounded by powdered lackeys, sat a bevy of wits, mostly in blue and -silver, with point ruffles, to match Mr. Fox's costume. They greeted -my companions uproariously. It was "Here's Charles at last!" "Howdy, -Charles!" "Hello, Richard!" and "What have you there? a new Caribbee?" -They made way for Mr. Fox at the head of the table, and he took the seat -as though it were his right. - -"This is Mr. Richard Carvel, gentlemen, of Carvel Hall, in Maryland." - -They stirred with interest when my name was called, and most of them -turned in their chairs to look at me. I knew well the reason, and felt -my face grow hot. Although you may read much of the courtesy of that -age, there was a deal of brutal frankness among young men of fashion. - -"Egad, Charles, is this he the Beauty rescued from Castle Yard?" - -A familiar voice relieved my embarrassment. - -"Give the devil his due, Bully. You forget that I had a hand in that." - -"Faith, Jack Comyn," retorted the gentleman addressed, "you're already -famous for clinging to her skirt." - -"But cling to mine, Bully, and we'll all enter the temple together. But -I bid you welcome, Richard," said his Lordship; "you come with two of -the most delightful vagabonds in the world." - -Mr. Fox introduced me in succession to Colonel St. John, known in St. -James's Street as the Baptist; to my Lord Bolingbroke, Colonel -St. John's brother, who was more familiarly called Bully; to Mr. -Fitzpatrick's brother, the Earl of Upper Ossory, who had come up to -London, so he said, to see a little Italian dance at the Garden; to -Gilly Williams; to Sir Charles Bunbury, who had married Lady Sarah -Lennox, Fox's cousin, the beauty who had come so near to being queen of -all England; to Mr. Storer, who was at once a Caribbee and a Crichton; -to Mr. Uvedale Price. These I remember, but there are more that escape -me. Most good-naturedly they drank my health in Charles's vin de grave, -at four shillings the bottle; and soon I was astonished to find myself -launched upon the story of my adventures, which they had besought me -to tell them. When I had done, they pledged me again, and, beginning to -feel at home, I pledged them handsomely in return. Then the conversation -began. The like of it I have never heard anywhere else in the world. -There was a deal that might not be written here, and a deal more that -might, to make these pages sparkle. They went through the meetings, of -course, and thrashed over the list of horses entered at Ipswich, and -York, and Newmarket, and how many were thought to be pulled. Then -followed the recent gains and losses of each and every individual of -the company. After that there was a roar of merriment over Mr. -Storer cracking mottoes with a certain Lady Jane; and how young -Lord Stavordale, on a wager, tilted the candles and set fire to the -drawing-room at Lady Julia's drum, the day before. Mr. Price told of the -rage Topham Beauclerk had got Dr. Johnson into, by setting down a mark -for each oyster the sage had eaten, and showing him the count. But Mr. -Fox, who was the soul of the club, had the best array of any. He related -how he had gone post from Paris to Lyons, to order, among other things, -an embroidered canary waistcoat for George Selwyn from Jabot. "' Et -quel dessin, monsieur?' 'Beetles and frogs, in green.' 'Escargots! -grenouilles!' he cries, with a shriek; 'Et pour Monsieur Selwyn! -Monsieur Fox badine!' It came yesterday, by Crawford, and I sent it to -Chesterfield Street in time for George to wear to the Duchess's. He has -been twice to Piccadilly after me, and twice here, and swears he will -have my heart. And I believe he is now gone to Matson in a funk." - -After that they fell upon politics. I knew that Mr. Fox was already -near the head of the King's party, and that he had just received a -substantial reward at his Majesty's hands; and I went not far to guess -that every one of these easy-going, devil-may-care macaronies was a -follower or sympathizer with Lord North's policy. But what I heard was -a revelation indeed. I have dignified it by calling it politics. All was -frankness here amongst friends. There was no attempt made to gloss over -ugly transactions with a veneer of morality. For this much I honoured -them. But irresistibly there came into my mind the grand and simple -characters of our own public men in America, and it made me shudder to -think that, while they strove honestly for our rights, this was the type -which opposed them. Motives of personal spite and of personal gain were -laid bare, and even the barter and sale of offices of trust took place -before my very eyes. I was silent, though my tongue burned me, until one -of the gentlemen, thinking me neglected, said: - -"What a-deuce is to be done with those unruly countrymen of yours, Mr. -Carvel? Are they likely to be pacified now that we have taken off all -except the tea? You who are of our party must lead a sorry life among -them. Tell me, do they really mean to go as far as rebellion?" - -The blood rushed to my face. - -"It is not a question of tea, sir," I answered hotly; "nor yet of -tuppence. It is a question of principle, which means more to Englishmen -than life itself. And we are Englishmen." - -I believe I spoke louder than I intended, for a silence followed my -words. Fox glanced at Comyn, who of all of them at the table was not -smiling, and said: - -"I thought you came of a loyalist family, Mr. Carvel." - -"King George has no more loyal servants than the Americans, Mr. Fox, be -they Tory or Whig. And he has but to read our petitions to discover it," -I said. - -I spoke calmly, but my heart was thumping with excitement and -resentment. The apprehension of the untried is apt to be sharp at -such moments, and I looked for them to turn their backs upon me for an -impertinent provincial. Indeed, I think they would have, all save Comyn, -had it not been for Fox himself. He lighted a pipe, smiled, and began -easily, quite dispassionately, to address me. - -"I wish you would favour us with your point of view, Mr. Carvel," said -he; "for, upon my soul, I know little about the subject." - -"You know little about the subject, and you in Parliament!" - -I cried. - -This started them all to laughing. Why, I did not then understand. But I -was angry enough. - -"Come, let's have it!" said he. - -They drew their chairs closer, some wearing that smile of superiority -which to us is the Englishman's most maddening trait. I did not stop -to think twice, or to remember that I was pitted against the greatest -debater in all England. I was to speak that of which I was full, and the -heart's argument needs no logic to defend it. If it were my last word, I -would pronounce it. - -I began by telling them that the Americans had paid their share of the -French war, in blood and money, twice over. And I had the figures in my -memory. Mr. Fox interrupted. For ten minutes at a space he spoke, and -in all my life I have never talked to a man who had the English of King -James's Bible, of Shakespeare, and Milton so wholly at his command. -And his knowledge of history, his classical citations, confounded me. -I forgot myself in wondering how one who had lived so fast had acquired -such learning. Afterward, when I tried to recall what he said, I laughed -at his surprising ignorance of the question at issue, and wondered where -my wits could have gone that I allowed myself to be dazzled and turned -aside at every corner. As his speech came faster he twisted fact into -fiction and fiction into fact, until I must needs close my mind and bolt -the shutters of it, or he had betrayed me into confessing the right -of Parliament to quarter troops among us. Though my head swam, I clung -doggedly to my text. And that was my salvation. He grew more excited, -and they applauded him. In truth, I myself felt near to clapping. And -then, as I stared him in the eye, marvelling how a man of such vast -power and ability could stand for such rotten practices, the thought -came to me (I know not whence) of Saint Paul the Apostle. - -"Mr. Fox," I said, when he had paused, "before God, do you believe what -you are saying?" - -I saw them smiling at my earnestness and simplicity. Fox seemed -surprised, and laughed evasively,--not heartily as was his wont. - -"My dear Mr. Carvel," he said, glancing around the circle, political -principles are not to be swallowed like religion, but taken rather like -medicine, experimentally. If they agree with you, very good. If not, -drop them and try others. We are always ready to listen to remedies, -here." - -"Ay, if they agree with you!" I exclaimed. "But food for one is poison -for another. Do you know what you are doing? You are pushing home -injustice and tyranny to the millions, for the benefit of the thousands. -For is it not true, gentlemen, that the great masses of England are -against the measures you impose upon us? Their fight is our fight. They -are no longer represented in Parliament; we have never been. Taxation -without representation is true of your rotten boroughs as well as of -your vast colonies. You are helping the King to crush freedom abroad in -order that he may the more easily break it at home. You are committing a -crime. - -"I tell you we would give up all we own were the glory or honour of -England at stake. And yet you call us rebels, and accuse us of meanness -and of parsimony. If you wish money, leave the matter to our colonial -assemblies, and see how readily you will get it. But if you wish war, -persist in trying to grind the spirit from a people who have in them -the pride of your own ancestors. Yes, you are estranging the colonies, -gentlemen. A greater man than I has warned you" - -And with that I rose, believing that I had given them all mortal -offence. To my astonishment several got to their feet in front of me, -huzzaing, and Comyn and Lord Ossory grasped my hands. And Charles Fox -reached out over the corner of the table and pulled me back into my -chair. - -"Bravo, Richard Carvel!" he cried. "Cursed if I don't love a man who -will put up a fight against odds. Who will stand bluff to what he -believes, and won't be talked out of his boots. We won't quarrel with -any such here, my buckskin, I can tell you." - -And that is the simple story, my dears, of the beginning of my -friendship with one who may rightly be called the Saint Paul of English -politics. He had yet some distance to go, alas, ere he was to begin -that sturdy battle for the right for which his countrymen and ours will -always bless him. I gave him my hand with a better will than I had ever -done anything, and we pressed our fingers numb. And his was not the only -hand I clasped. And honest Jack Comyn ordered more wine, that they might -drink to a speedy reconciliation with America. - -"A pint bumper to Richard Carvel!" said Mr. Fitzpatrick. - -I pledged Brooks's Club in another pint. Upon which they swore that -I was a good fellow, and that if all American Whigs were like me, all -cause of quarrel was at an end. Of this I was not so sure, nor could -I see that the question had been settled one way or another. And that -night I had reason to thank the Reverend Mr. Allen, for the first and -last time in my life, that I could stand a deal of liquor, and yet not -roll bottom upward. - -The dinner was settled on the Baptist, who paid for it without a -murmur. And then we adjourned to the business of the evening. The great -drawing-room, lighted by an hundred candles, was filled with gayly -dressed macaronies, and the sound of their laughter and voices in -contention mingled with the pounding of the packs on the mahogany and -the rattle of the dice and the ring of the gold pieces. The sight was -dazzling, and the noise distracting. Fox had me under his especial care, -and I was presented to young gentlemen who bore names that had been the -boast of England through the centuries. Lands their forebears had won by -lance and sword, they were squandering away as fast as ever they could. -I, too, was known. All had heard the romance of the Beauty and Castle -Yard, and some had listened to Horry Walpole tell that foolish story of -Goble at Windsor, on which he seemed to set such store. They guessed at -my weight. They betted upon it. And they wished to know if I could spin -Mr. Brooks, who was scraping his way from table to table. They gave me -choice of whist, or picquet, or quinze, or hazard. I was carried away. -Nay, I make no excuse. Tho' the times were drinking and gaming ones, I -had been brought up that a gentleman should do both in moderation. We -mounted, some dozen of us, to the floor above, and passed along to a -room of which Fox had the key; and he swung me in on his arm, the others -pressing after. And the door was scarce closed and locked again, before -they began stripping off their clothes. - -To my astonishment, Fox handed me a great frieze coat, which he bade me -don, as the others were doing. Some were turning their coats inside out; -for luck, said they; and putting on footman's leather guards to save -their ruffles. And they gave me a hat with a high crown, and a broad -brim to save my eyes from the candle glare. We were as grotesque a set -as ever I laid my eyes upon. But I hasten over the scene; which has long -become distasteful to me. I mention it only to show to what heights of -folly the young men had gone. I recall a gasp when they told me they -played for rouleaux of ten pounds each, but I took out my pocket-book as -boldly as tho' I had never played for less, and laid my stake upon the -board. Fox lost, again and again; but he treated his ill-luck with -such a raillery of contemptuous wit, that we must needs laugh with him. -Comyn, too, lost, and at supper excused himself, saying that he had -promised his mother, the dowager countess, not to lose more than a -quarter's income at a sitting. But I won and won, until the fever of it -got into my blood, and as the first faint light of that morning crept -into the empty streets, we were still at it, Fox vowing that he never -waked up until daylight. That the best things he said in the House came -to him at dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. LADY TANKERVILLE'S DRUM-MAJOR - -The rising sun, as he came through the little panes of the windows, -etched a picture of that room into my brain. I can see the twisted -candles with their wax smearing the sticks, the chairs awry, the tables -littered with blackened pipes, and bottles, and spilled wine and tobacco -among the dice; and the few that were left of my companions, some with -dark lines under their eyes, all pale, but all gay, unconcerned, witty, -and cynical; smoothing their ruffles, and brushing the ashes and snuff -from the pattern of their waistcoats. As we went downstairs, singing a -song Mr. Foote had put upon the stage that week, they were good enough -to declare that I should never be permitted to go back to Maryland. That -my grandfather should buy me a certain borough, which might be had for -six thousand pounds. - -The drawing-room made a dismal scene, too, after the riot and disorder -of the night. Sleepy servants were cleaning up, but Fox vowed that they -should bring us yet another bottle before going home. So down we sat -about the famous old round table, Fox fingering the dents the gold had -made in the board, and philosophizing; and reciting Orlando Furioso in -the Italian, and Herodotus in the original Greek. Suddenly casting his -eyes about, they fell upon an ungainly form stretched on a lounge, that -made us all start. - -"Bully!" he cried; "I'll lay you fifty guineas that Mr. Carvel gets the -Beauty, against Chartersea." - -This roused me. - -"Nay, Mr. Fox, I beg of you," I protested, with all the vehemence I -could muster. "Miss Manners must not be writ down in such a way." - -For answer he snapped his fingers at the drowsy Brooks, who brought the -betting book. - -"There!" says he; "and there, and there," turning over the pages; "her -name adorns a dozen leaves, my fine buckskin. And it will be well to -have some truth about her. Enter the wager, Brooks." - -"Hold!" shouts Bolingbroke; "I haven't accepted." - -You may be sure I was in an agony over this desecration, which I was so -powerless to prevent. But as I was thanking my stars that the matter had -blown over with Bolingbroke's rejection, there occurred a most singular -thing. - -The figure on the lounge, with vast difficulty, sat up. To our amazement -we beheld the bloated face of the Duke of Chartersea staring stupidly. - -"Damme, Bully, you refushe bet like tha'!" he said. "I'll take doshen of -'em-doshen, egad. Gimme the book, Brooksh. Cursh Fox--lay thousand d--d -provinshial never getsh 'er--I know--" - -I sat very still, seized with a loathing beyond my power to describe to -thick that this was the man Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry. Fox -laughed. - -"Help his Grace to his coach," he said to two of the footmen. - -"Kill fellow firsht!" cried his Grace, with his hand on his sword, and -instantly fell over, and went sound asleep. - -"His Grace has sent his coach home, your honour," said one of the men, -respectfully. "The duke is very quarrelsome, sir." - -"Put him in a chair, then," said Charles. - -So they fearfully lifted his Grace, who was too far gone to resist, and -carried him to a chair. And Mr. Fox bribed the chairmen with two guineas -apiece, which he borrowed from me, to set his Grace down amongst the -marketwomen at Covent Garden. - -The next morning Banks found in my pockets something over seven hundred -pounds more than I had had the day before. - -I rose late, my head swimming with mains and nicks, and combinations -of all the numbers under the dozen; debated whether or no I would go to -Arlington Street, and decided that I had not the courage. Comyn settled -it by coming in his cabriolet, proposed that we should get the air -in the park, dine at the Cocoa Tree, and go afterwards to Lady -Tankerville's drum-major, where Dolly would undoubtedly be. - -"Now you are here, Richard," said his Lordship, with his accustomed -bluntness, "and your sea-captain has relieved your Quixotic conscience, -what the deuce do you intend to do? - -"Win a thousand pounds every night at Brooks's, or improve your time -and do your duty, and get Miss Manners out of his Grace's clutches? I'll -warrant something will come of that matter this morning." - -"I hope so," I said shortly. - -Comyn looked at me sharply. - -"Would you fight him?" he asked. - -"If he gave me the chance." - -His Lordship whistled. "Egad, then," said he, "I shall want to be there -to see. In spite of his pudding-bag shape he handles the sword as well -as any man in England. I have crossed with him at Angelo's. And he has a -devilish tricky record, Richard." - -I said nothing to that. - -"Hope you do--kill him," Comyn continued. "He deserves it richly. -But that will be a cursed unpleasant way of settling the -business,--unpleasant for you, unpleasant for her, and cursed unpleasant -for him, too, I suppose. Can't you think of any other way of getting -her? Ask Charles to give you a plan of campaign. You haven't any sense, -and neither have I." - -"Hang you, Jack, I have no hopes of getting her," I replied, for I was -out of humour with myself that day. "In spite of what you say, I know -she doesn't care a brass farthing to marry me. So let's drop that." - -Comyn made a comic gesture of deprecation. I went on: "But I am going -to stay here and find out the truth, though it may be a foolish -undertaking. And if he is intimidating Mr. Manners--" - -"You may count on me, and on Charles," said my Lord, generously; "and -there are some others I know of. Gad! You made a dozen of friends and -admirers by what you said last night, Richard. And his Grace has a few -enemies. You will not lack support." - -We dined very comfortably at the Cocoa Tree, where Comyn had made an -appointment for me with two as diverting gentlemen as had ever been my -lot to meet. My Lord Carlisle was the poet and scholar of the little -clique which had been to Eton with Charles Fox, any member of which (so -'twas said) would have died for him. His Lordship, be it remarked in -passing, was as lively a poet and scholar as can well be imagined. -He had been recently sobered, so Comyn confided; which I afterwards -discovered meant married. Charles Fox's word for the same was fallen. -And I remembered that Jack had told me it was to visit Lady Carlisle at -Castle Howard that Dorothy was going when she heard of my disappearance. -Comyn's other guest was Mr. Topham Beauclerk, the macaroni friend of -Dr. Johnson. He, too, had been recently married, but appeared no more -sobered than his Lordship. Mr. Beauclerk's wife, by the way, was -the beautiful Lady Diana Spencer, who had been divorced from Lord -Bolingbroke, the Bully I had met the night before. These gentlemen -seemed both well acquainted with Miss Manners, and vowed that none but -American beauties would ever be the fashion in London more. Then we all -drove to Lady Tankerville's drum-major near Chesterfield House. - -"You will be wanting a word with her when she comes in," said Comyn, -slyly divining. Poor fellow! I fear that I scarcely appreciated his -feelings as to Dorothy, or the noble unselfishness of his friendship for -me. - -We sat aside in a recess of the lower hall, watching the throng as they -passed: haughty dowagers, distorted in lead and disfigured in silk and -feathers nodding at the ceiling; accomplished beaus of threescore or -more, carefully mended for the night by their Frenchmen at home; young -ladies in gay brocades with round skirts and stiff, pear-shaped bodices; -and youngsters just learning to ogle and to handle their snuff-boxes. -One by one their names were sent up and solemnly mouthed by the footman -on the landing. At length, when we had all but given her up, Dorothy -arrived. A hood of lavender silk heightened the oval of her face, and -out from under it crept rebellious wisps of her dark hair. But she was -very pale, and I noticed for the first time a worn expression that gave -me a twinge of uneasiness. 'Twas then I caught sight of the duke, a -surly stamp on his leaden features. And after him danced Mr. Manners. -Dolly gave a little cry when she saw me. - -"Oh! Richard, I am so glad you are here. I was wondering what had become -of you. And Comyn, too." Whispering to me, "Mamma has had a letter from -Mrs. Brice; your grandfather has been to walk in the garden." - -"And Grafton?" - -"She said nothing of your uncle," she replied, with a little shudder at -the name; "but wrote that Mr. Carvel was said to be better. So there! -your conscience need not trouble you for remaining. I am sure he would -wish you to pay a visit home. - -"And I have to scold you, sir. You have not been to Arlington Street for -three whole days." - -It struck me suddenly that her gayety was the same as that she had worn -to my birthday party, scarce a year agone. - -"Dolly, you are not well!" I said anxiously. - -She flung her head saucily for answer. In the meantime his Grace, -talking coldly to Comyn, had been looking unutterable thunders at me. -I thought of him awaking in the dew at Covent Garden, and could scarce -keep from laughing in his face. Mr. Marmaduke squirmed to the front. - -"Morning, Richard," he said, with a marked cordiality. "Have you met -the Duke of Chartersea? No! Your Grace, this is Mr. Richard Carvel. His -family are dear friends of ours in the colonies." - -To my great surprise, the duke saluted me quite civilly. But I had the -feeling of facing a treacherous bull which would gore me as soon as ever -my back was turned. He was always putting me in mind of a bull, with his -short neck and heavy, hunched shoulders,--and with the ugly tinge of red -in the whites of his eyes. - -"Mr. Manners tells me you are to remain awhile in London, Mr. Carvel," -he said, in his thick voice. - -I took his meaning instantly, and replied in kind. - -"Yes, your Grace, I have some business to attend to here." - -"Ah," he answered; "then I shall see you again." - -"Probably, sir," said I. - -His Lordship watched this thrust and parry with an ill-concealed -delight. Dorothy's face was impassive, expressionless. As the duke -turned to mount the stairs, he stumbled clumsily across a young man -coming to pay his respects to Miss Manners, and his Grace went sprawling -against the wall. - -"Confound you, sir!" he cried. - -For the ducal temper was no respecter of presences. Then a title was a -title to those born lower, and the young man plainly had a vast honour -for a coronet. - -"I beg your Grace's pardon," said he. - -"Who the deuce is he?" demanded the duke petulantly of Mr. Manners, -thereby setting the poor little man all a-tremble. - -"Why, why,--" he replied, searching for his spyglass. - -For an instant Dolly's eyes shot scorn. Chartersea had clearly seen and -heeded that signal before. - -"The gentleman is a friend of mine," she said. - -Tho' I were put out of the Garden of Eden as a consequence, I itched to -have it out with his Grace then and there. I knew that I was bound -to come into collision with him sooner or later. Such, indeed, was my -mission in London. But Dorothy led the way upstairs, a spot of colour -burning each of her cheeks. The stream of guests had been arrested until -the hall was packed, and the curious were peering over the rail above. - -"Lord, wasn't she superb!" exclaimed Comyn, exultingly, as we followed. -In the drawing-room the buzzing about the card tables was hushed a -moment as she went in. But I soon lost sight of her, thanks to Comyn. He -drew me on from group to group, and I was duly presented to a score -of Lady So-and-sos and honourable misses, most of whom had titles, but -little else. Mammas searched their memories, and suddenly discovered -that they had heard their parents speak of my grandfather. But, as it -was a fair presumption that most colonial gentlemen made a visit home at -least once in their lives, I did not allow the dust to get into my eyes. -I was invited to dinners, and fairly showered with invitations to balls -and drums and garden parties. I was twitted about the Beauty, most often -with only a thin coating of amiability covering the spite of the remark. -In short, if my head had not been so heavily laden with other matters, -it might well have become light under the strain. Had I been ambitious -to enter the arena I should have had but little trouble, since -eligibility then might be reduced to guineas and another element not -moral. I was the only heir of one of the richest men in the colony, -vouched for by the Manners and taken up by Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn. -Inquiries are not pushed farther. I could not help seeing the hardness -of it all, or refrain from contrasting my situation with that of the -penniless outcast I had been but a little time before. The gilded rooms, -the hundred yellow candles multiplied by the mirrors, the powder, the -perfume, the jewels,--all put me in mind of the poor devils I had left -wasting away their lives in Castle Yard. They, too, had had their times -of prosperity, their friends who had faded with the first waning of -fortune. Some of them had known what it was to be fawned over. And how -many of these careless, flitting men of fashion I looked upon could feel -the ground firm beneath their feet; or could say with certainty what -a change of ministers, or one wild night at White's or Almack's, would -bring forth? Verily, one must have seen the under side of life to know -the upper! - -Presently I was sought out by Mr. Topham Beauclerk, who had heard of the -episode below and wished to hear more. He swore at the duke. - -"He will be run through some day, and serve him jolly right," said he. -"Bet you twenty pounds Charles Fox does it! His Grace knows he has the -courage to fight him." - -"The courage!" I repeated. - -"Yes. Angelo says the duke has diabolical skill. And then he won't fight -fair. He killed young Atwater on a foul, you know. Slipped on the wet -grass, and Chartersea had him pinned before he caught his guard. But -there is Lady Di a-calling, a-calling." - -"Do all the women cheat in America too?" asked Topham, as we approached. - -I thought of my Aunt Caroline, and laughed. - -"Some," I answered. - -"They will game, d--n 'em," said Topham, as tho' he had never gamed in -his life. "And they will cheat, till a man has to close his eyes to -keep from seeing their pretty hands. And they will cry, egad, oh so -touchingly, if the luck goes against them in spite of it all. Only last -week I had to forgive Mrs Farnham an hundred guineas. She said she'd -lost her pin-money twice over, and was like to have wept her eyes out." - -Thus primed in Topham's frank terms, I knew what to expect. And I found -to my amusement he had not overrun the truth. I lost like a stoic, saw -nothing, and discovered the straight road to popularity. - -"The dear things expect us to make it up at the clubs," whispered he. - -I discovered how he had fallen in love with his wife, Lady Diana, and -pitied poor Bolingbroke heartily for having lost her. She was then -in her prime,--a beauty, a wit, and a great lady, with a dash of the -humanities about her that brought both men and women to her feet. - -"You must come to see me, Mr. Carvel," said she. "I wish to talk to you -of Dorothy." - -"Your Ladyship believes me versed in no other subject?" I asked. - -"None other worth the mention," she replied instantly; "Topham tells me -you can talk horses, and that mystery of mysteries, American politics. -But look at Miss Manners Dow. I'll warrant she is making Sir Charles see -to his laurels, and young Stavordale is struck dumb." - -I looked up quickly and beheld Dolly surrounded by a circle of admirers. - -"Mark the shot strike!" Lady Di continued, between the deals; "that time -Chartersea went down. I fancy he is bowled over rather often," she said -slyly. "What a brute it is. And they say that that little woman she has -for a father imagines a union with the duke will redound to his glory." - -"They say," remarked Mrs. Meynel, sitting next me, "that the duke has -thumbscrews of some kind on Mr. Manners." - -"Miss Manners is able to take care of herself," said Topham. - -"'On dit', that she has already refused as many dukes as did her Grace -of Argyle," said Mrs. Meynel. - -I had lost track of the cards, and knew I was losing prodigiously. But -my eyes went back again and again to the group by the doorway, where -Dolly was holding court and dispensing justice, and perchance injustice. -The circle increased. Ribands, generals whose chests were covered with -medals of valour, French noblemen, and foreign ambassadors stopped for -a word with the Beauty and passed on their way, some smiling, some -reflecting, to make room for others. I overheard from the neighbouring -tables a spiteful protest that a young upstart from the colonies -should turn Lady Tankerville's drum into a levee. My ears tingled as I -listened. But not a feathered parrot in the carping lot of them could -deny that Miss Manners had beauty and wit enough to keep them all at -bay. Hers was not an English beauty: every line of her face and pose of -her body proclaimed her of that noble type of Maryland women, distinctly -American, over which many Englishmen before and since have lost their -heads and hearts. - -"Egad!" exclaimed Mr. Storer, who was looking on; "she's already -defeated some of the Treasury Bench, and bless me if she isn't rating -North himself." - -Half the heads in the room were turned toward Miss Manners, who was -exchanging jokes with the Prime Minister of Great Britain. I saw a -corpulent man, ludicrously like the King's pictures, with bulging gray -eyes that seemed to take in nothing. And this was North, upon whose -conduct with the King depended the fate of our America. Good-natured he -was, and his laziness was painfully apparent. He had the reputation of -going to sleep standing, like a horse. - -"But the Beauty contrives to keep him awake," said Storer. - -"If you stay among us, Mr. Carvel," said Topham, "she will get you a -commissionership for the asking." - -"Look," cried Lady Di, "there comes Mr. Fox, the precocious, the -irresistible. Were he in the Bible, we should read of him passing the -time of day with King Solomon." - -"Or instructing Daniel in the art of lion-taming," put in Mrs. Meynel. - -There was Mr. Fox in truth, and the Beauty's face lighted up at sight of -him. And presently, when Lord North had made his bow and passed on, -he was seen to lead her out of the room, leaving her circle to go to -pieces, like an empire without a head. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. DRURY LANE - -After a night spent in making resolutions, I set out for Arlington -Street, my heart beating a march, as it had when I went thither on my -arrival in London. Such was my excitement that I was near to being run -over in Piccadilly like many another country gentleman, and roundly -cursed by a wagoner for my stupidity. I had a hollow bigness within -me, half of joy, half of pain, that sent me onward with ever increasing -steps and a whirling storm of contradictions in my head. Now it was: -Dolly loved me in spite of all the great men in England. Why, otherwise, -had she come to the sponging-house? Berating myself: had her affection -been other than that of a life-long friendship she would not have come -an inch. But why had she made me stay in London? Why had she spoken so -to Comyn? What interpretation might be put upon a score of little acts -of hers that came a-flooding to mind, each a sacred treasure of memory? -A lover's interpretation, forsooth. Fie, Richard! what presumption to -think that you, a raw lad, should have a chance in such a field! You -have yet, by dint of hard knocks and buffets, to learn the world. - -By this I had come in sight of her house, and suddenly I trembled like a -green horse before a cannon. My courage ran out so fast that I was -soon left without any, and my legs had carried me as far as St. James's -Church before I could bring them up. Then I was sure, for the first -time, that she did not love me. In front of the church I halted, -reflecting that I had not remained in England with any hope of it, but -rather to discover the truth about Chartersea's actions, and to save -her, if it were possible. I turned back once more, and now got as far as -the knocker, and lifted it as a belfry was striking the hour of noon. I -think I would have fled again had not the door been immediately opened. - -Once more I found myself in the room looking out over the Park, the -French windows open to the balcony, the sunlight flowing in with the -spring-scented air. On the table was lying a little leather book, -stamped with gold,--her prayerbook. Well I remembered it! I opened it, -to read: "Dorothy, from her Mother. Annapolis, Christmas, 1768." The -sweet vista of the past stretched before my eyes. I saw her, on such a, -Mayday as this, walking to St. Anne's under the grand old trees, their -budding leaves casting a delicate tracery at her feet. I followed her up -the aisle until she disappeared in the high pew, and then I sat beside -my grandfather and thought of her, nor listened to a word of Mr. Allen's -sermon. Why had they ever taken her to London? - -When she came in I sought her face anxiously. She was still pale; and -I thought, despite her smile, that a trace of sadness lingered in her -eyes. - -"At last, sir, you have come," she said severely. "Sit down and give an -account of yourself at once. You have been behaving very badly." - -"Dorothy--" - -"Pray don't 'Dorothy' me, sir. But explain where you have been for this -week past." - -"But, Dolly--" - -"You pretend to have some affection for your old playmate, but you do -not trouble yourself to come to see her." - -"Indeed, you do me wrong." - -"Do you wrong! You prefer to gallivant about town with Comyn and Charles -Fox, and with all those wild gentlemen who go to Brooks's. Nay, I have -heard of your goings-on. I shall write to Mr. Carvel to-day, and advise -him to send for you. And tell him that you won a thousand pounds in one -night--" - -"It was only seven hundred," I interrupted sheepishly. I thought she -smiled faintly. - -And will probably lose twenty thousand before you have done. And I shall -say to him that you have dared to make bold rebel speeches to a Lord of -the Admiralty and to some of the King's supporters. I shall tell your -grandfather you are disgracing him." - -"Rebel speeches!" I cried. - -"Yes, rebel speeches at Almack's. Who ever heard of such a thing! No -doubt I shall hear next of your going to a drawing-room and instructing -his Majesty how to subdue the colonies. And then, sir, you will be sent -to the Tower, and I shan't move a finger to get you out." - -"Who told you of this, Dolly?" I demanded. - -"Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,--or so bad,--that he -took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let -you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue. -I replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr. -Franklin." - -I laughed. - -"I saw Fox lead you off," I said. - -"Oh, you did, did you!" she retorted. "But you never once came near me -yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there -a full three hours." - -"How could I!" I exclaimed. "You were surrounded by prime ministers and -ambassadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people." - -"When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way." - -"Nay," I answered, despairing, "I can never explain anything to you, -Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine." - -"Why didn't you go home with your captain?" she asked mockingly. - -"Do you know why I stayed?" - -"I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures -of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can -think of no other season." - -"There is another," I said desperately. - -"Ah," said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in -the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my -very temples throbbing. - -"We have no such springs at home," she said. "But oh, I wish I were at -Wilmot House to-day!" - -"There is another reason," I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like -that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly. -The southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the -curtains at our backs. - -"You have a conscience, Richard," she said gently, without turning. "So -few of us have." - -I was surprised. Nor did I know what to make of that there were so many -meanings. - -"You are wild," she continued, "and impulsive, as they say your father -was. But he was a man I should have honoured. He stood firm beside his -friends. He made his enemies fear him. All strong men must have enemies, -I suppose. They must make them." - -I looked at her, troubled, puzzled, but burning at her praise of Captain -Jack. - -"Dolly," I cried, "you are not well. Why won't you come back to -Maryland?" - -She did not reply to that. Then she faced me suddenly. - -"Richard, I know now why you insisted upon going back. It was because -you would not desert your sea-captain. Comyn and Mr. Fox have told me, -and they admire you for it as much as I." - -What language is worthy to describe her as she was then in that pose, -with her head high, as she was wont to ride over the field after -the hounds. Hers was in truth no beauty of stone, but the beauty of -force,--of life itself. - -"Dorothy," I cried; "Dorothy, I stayed because I love you. There, I have -said it again, what has not passed my lips since we were children. What -has been in my heart ever since." - -I stopped, awed. For she had stepped back, out on the balcony. She -hid her head in her hands, and I saw her breast shaken as with sobs. I -waited what seemed a day,--a year. Then she raised her face and looked -at me through the tears shining in her eyes. - -"Richard," she said sadly, "why, why did you ever tell me? Why can we -not always be playmates?" - -The words I tried to say choked me. I could not speak for sorrow, for -very bitterness. And yet I might have known! I dared not look at her -again. - -"Dear Richard," I heard her say, "God alone understands how it hurts me -to give you pain. Had I only foreseen--" - -"Had you only foreseen," I said quickly. - -"I should never have let you speak." - -Her words came steadily, but painfully. And when I raised my eyes she -met them bravely. - -"You must have seen," I cried. "These years I have loved you, nor could -I have hidden it if I had wished. But I have little--to offer you," I -went on cruelly, for I knew not what I said; "you who may have English -lands and titles for the consenting. I was a fool." - -Her tears started again. And at sight of them I was seized with such -remorse that I could have bitten my tongue in two. - -"Forgive me, Dorothy, if you can," I implored. "I did not mean it. Nor -did I presume to think you loved me. I have adored,--I shall be content -to adore from far below. And I stayed,--I stayed that I might save you -if a danger threatened." - -"Danger!" she exclaimed, catching her breath. - -"I will come to the point," I said. "I stayed to save you from the Duke -of Chartersea." - -She grasped the balcony rail, and I think would have fallen but for my -arm. Then she straightened, and only the quiver of her lip marked the -effort. - -"To save me from the Duke of Chartersea?" she said, so coldly that my -conviction was shaken. "Explain yourself, sir." - -"You cannot love him!" I cried, amazed. - -She flashed upon me a glance I shall never forget. - -"Richard Carvel," she said, "you have gone too far. Though you have been -my friend all my life, there are some things which even you cannot say -to me." - -And she left me abruptly and went into the house, her head flung back. -And I followed in a tumult of mortification and wounded pride, in such -a state of dejection that I wished I had never been born. But hers was a -nature of surprises, and impulsive, like my own. Beside the cabinet she -turned, calm again, all trace of anger vanished from her face. Drawing -a hawthorn sprig from a porcelain vase I had given her, she put it in my -hand. - -"Let us forget this, Richard," said she; "we have both been very -foolish." - -Forget, indeed! Unless Heaven had robbed me of reason, had torn the past -from me at a single stroke. I could not have forgotten. When I reached -my lodgings I sent the anxious Banks about his business and threw myself -in a great chair before the window, the chair she had chosen. Strange to -say, I had no sensation save numbness. The time must have been about -two of the clock: I took no account of it. I recall Banks coming timidly -back with the news that two gentlemen had called. I bade him send -them away. Would my honour not have Mrs. Marble cook my dinner, and be -dressed for Lady Pembroke's ball? I sent him off again, harshly. - -After a long while the slamming of a coach door roused me, and I was -straightway seized with such an agony of mind that I could have cried -aloud. 'Twas like the pain of blood flowing back into a frozen limb. -Darkness was fast gathering as I reached the street and began to walk -madly. Word by word I rehearsed the scene in the drawing-room over the -Park, but I could not think calmly, for the pain of it. Little by little -I probed, writhing, until far back in my boyhood I was tearing at the -dead roots of that cherished plant, which was the Hope of Her Love. It -had grown with my own life, and now with its death to-day I felt that -I had lost all that was dear to me. Then, in the midst of this abject -self-pity, I was stricken with shame. I thought of Comyn, who had borne -the same misfortune as a man should. Had his pain been the less because -he had not loved her from childhood? Like Comyn, I resolved to labour -for her happiness. - -What hour of the night it was I know not when a man touched me on the -shoulder, and I came to myself with a start. I was in a narrow street -lined by hideous houses, their windows glaring with light. Each seemed -a skull, with rays darting from its grinning eye-holes. Within I caught -glimpses of debauchery that turned me sick. Ten paces away three women -and a man were brawling, the low angry tones of his voice mingling with -the screeches of their Billingsgate. Muffled figures were passing and -repassing unconcernedly, some entering the houses, others coming out, -and a handsome coach, without arms and with a footman in plain livery, -lumbered along and stopped farther on. All this I remarked before I took -notice of him who had intercepted me, and demanded what he wanted. - -"Hey, Bill!" he cried with an oath to a man who stood on the steps -opposite; "'ere's a soft un as has put 'is gill in." - -The man responded, and behind him came two more of the same feather, and -suddenly I found myself surrounded by an ill-smelling crowd of flashy -men and tawdry women. They jostled me, and I reached for my sword, to -make the discovery that I had forgotten it. Regaining my full senses, I -struck the man nearest me a blow that sent him sprawling in the dirt. A -blade gleamed under the sickly light of the fish-oil lamp overhead, but -a man crashed through from behind and caught the ruffian's sword-arm and -flung him back in the kennel. - -"The watch!" he cried, "the watch!" - -They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me -standing alone with him. The affair had come and gone so quickly that I -scarce caught my breath. - -"Pardon, sir," he said, knuckling, "but I followed you." - -It was Banks. For a second time he had given me an affecting example of -his faithfulness. I forgot that he was my servant, and I caught his hand -and pressed it. - -"You have saved my life at the risk of your own," I said; "I shall not -forget it." - -But Banks had been too well trained to lose sight of his position. He -merely tipped his hat again and said imperturbably: - -"Best get out of here, your honour. They'll be coming again directly." - -"Where are we?" I asked. - -"Drury Lane, sir," he replied, giving me just the corner of a glance; -"shall I fetch a coach, sir?" No, I preferred to walk. Before we had -turned into Long Acre I had seen all of this Sodom of London that it -should be given a man to see, if indeed we must behold some of the -bestiality of this world. Here alone, in the great city, high and low -were met equal. Sin levels rank. The devil makes no choice between my -lord and his kitchen wench who has gone astray. Here, in Sodom, painted -vice had lain for an hundred years and bred half the crime of a century. -How many souls had gone hence in that time to meet their Maker! Some -of these brazen creatures who leered at me had known how long ago!--a -peaceful home and a mother's love; had been lured in their innocence -to this place of horrors, never to leave it until death mercifully -overtakes them. Others, having fallen, had been driven hither by a cruel -world that shelters all save the helpless, that forgives all save the -truly penitent. I shuddered as I thought of Mr. Hogarth's prints, which, -in the library in Marlboro' Street at home, had had so little meaning -for me. Verily he had painted no worse than the reality. As I strode -homeward, my own sorrow subdued by the greater sorrow I had looked upon, -the craving I had had to be alone was gone, and I would have locked -arms with a turnspit. I called to Banks, who was behind at a respectful -distance, and bade him come talk to me. His presence of mind in calling -on the watch had made even a greater impression upon me than his -bravery. I told him that he should have ten pounds, and an increase of -wages. And I asked him where I had gone after leaving Dover Street, and -why he had followed me. He answered this latter question first. He had -seen gentlemen in the same state, or something like it, before: his -Lordship, his late master, after he had fought with Mr. Onslow, of the -Guards, and Sir Edward Minturn, when he had lost an inheritance and a -reversion at Brooks's, and was forced to give over his engagement to -marry the Honourable Miss Swift. "Lord, sir," he said, "but that was -a sad case, as set all London agog. And Sir Edward shot hisself at -Portsmouth not a se'nnight after." - -And he relapsed into silence, no doubt longing to ask the cause of my -own affliction. Presently he surprised me by saying: - -"And I might make so bold, Mr. Carvel, I would like to tell your honour -something." - -I nodded. And he hawed awhile and then burst out: - -"Your honour must know then that I belongs to the footman's club in -Berkeley Square, where I meets all the servants o' quality--" - -"Yes," I said, wondering what footman's tale he had to tell. - -"And Whipple, he's a hintimate o' mine, sir." He stopped again. - -"And who may Whipple be?" - -"With submission, sir. Whipple's his Grace o' Chartersea's man--and, -you'll forgive me, sir--Whipple owns his Grace is prodigious ugly, an' -killed young Mr. Atwater unfair, some think. Whipple says he would give -notice had he not promised the old duke--" - -"Drat Whipple!" I cried. - -"Yes, sir. To be sure, sir. His Grace was in a bloody rage when he found -hisself in a fruit bin at Covent Carding. An' two redbreasts had carried -him to the round house, sir, afore they discovered his title. An' since -his Grace ha' said time an' time afore Whipple, that he'll ha' Mr. -Carvel's heart for that, and has called you most disgustin' bad names, -sir. An' Whipple he says to me: 'Banks, drop your marster a word, an' -you get the chance. His Grace'll speak him fair to's face, but let him -look behind him.'" - -"I thank you again, Banks. I shall bear in mind your devotion," I -replied. "But I had nothing to do with sending the duke to Covent -Garden." - -"Ay, sir, so I tells Whipple." - -"Pray, how did you know?" I demanded curiously. - -"Lord, sir! All the servants at Almack's is friends o' mine," says he. -"But Whipple declares his Grace will be sworn you did it, sir, tho' the -Lord Mayor hisself made deposition 'twas not." - -"Then mark me, Banks, you are not to talk of this." - -"Oh, Lord, no, your honour," he said, as he fell back. But I was not so -sure of his discretion as of his loyalty. - -And so I was led to perceive that I was not to be the only aggressor in -the struggle that was to come. That his Grace did me the honour to -look upon me as an obstacle. And that he intended to seize the first -opportunity to make way with me, by fair means or foul. - - - - -Volume 6. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. HIS GRACE MAKES ADVANCES - -The next morning I began casting about as to what I should do next. -There was no longer any chance of getting at the secret from Dorothy, if -secret there were. Whilst I am ruminating comes a great battling at -the street door, and Jack Comyn blew in like a gust of wind, rating me -soundly for being a lout and a blockhead. - -"Zooks!" he cried, "I danced the soles off my shoes trying to get in -here yesterday, and I hear you were moping all the time, and paid me no -more attention than I had been a dog scratching at the door. What! and -have you fallen out with my lady?" - -I confessed the whole matter to him. He was not to be resisted. He -called to Banks for a cogue of Nantsey, and swore amazingly at what he -was pleased to term the inscrutability of woman, offering up consolation -by the wholesale. The incident, he said, but strengthened his conviction -that Mr. Manners had appealed to Dorothy to save him. "And then," added -his Lordship, facing me with absolute fierceness, "and then, Richard, -why the devil did she weep? There were no tears when I made my avowal. -I tell you, man, that the whole thing points but the one way. She loves -you. I swear it by the rood." - -I could not help laughing, and he stood looking at me with such a -whimsical expression that I rose and flung my arms around him. - -"Jack, Jack!" I cried, "what a fraud you are! Do you remember the -argument you used when you had got me out of the sponging-house? Quoting -you, all I had to do was to put Dorothy to the proof, and she would toss -Mr. Marmaduke and his honour broadcast. Now I have confessed myself, and -what is the result? Nay, your theory is gone up in vapour." - -"Then why," cried his Lordship, hotly, "why before refusing me did she -demand to know whether you had been in love with Patty Swain? 'Sdeath! -you put me in mind of a woman upon stilts--a man has always to be -walking alongside her with encouragement handy. And when a proud -creature such as our young lady breaks down as she hath done, 'tis -clear as skylight there is something wrong. And as for Mr. Manners, Hare -overheard a part of a pow-wow 'twixt him and the duke at the Bedford -Arms,--and Chartersea has all but owned in some of his drunken fits that -our little fop is in his power." - -"Then she is in love with some one else," I said. - -"I tell you she is not," said Comyn, still more emphatically; "and you -can write that down in red in your table book. Gossip has never been -able to connect her name with that of any man save yours, when she went -for you in Castle Yard. And, gemini, gossip is like water, and will get -in if a crack shows. When the Marquis of Wells was going to Arlington -Street once every day, she sent him about his business in a fortnight." - -Despite Comyn's most unselfish optimism, I could see no light. And in -the recklessness that so often besets youngsters of my temper, on -like occasions, I went off to Newmarket next day with Mr. Fox and Lord -Ossory, in his Lordship's travelling-chaise and four. I spent a very gay -week trying to forget Miss Dolly. I was the loser by some three hundred -pounds, in addition to what I expended and loaned to Mr. Fox. This young -gentleman was then beginning to accumulate at Newmarket a most execrable -stud. He lost prodigiously, but seemed in no wise disturbed thereby. -I have never known a man who took his ill-luck with such a stoical -nonchalance. Not so while the heat was on. As I write, a most ridiculous -recollection rises of Charles dragging his Lordship and me and all who -were with him to that part of the course where the race was highest, -where he would act like a madman; blowing and perspiring, and whipping -and swearing all at a time, and rising up and down as if the horse was -throwing him. - -At Newmarket I had the good--or ill-fortune to meet that incorrigible -rake and profligate, my Lord of March and Ruglen. For him the goddess -of Chance had smiled, and he was in the most complaisant humour. I was -presented to his Grace, the Duke of Grafton, whose name I had no reason -to love, and invited to Wakefield Lodge. We went instead, Mr. Fox and -I, to Ampthill, Lord Ossory's seat, with a merry troop. And then we had -more racing; and whist and quinze and pharaoh and hazard, until I was -obliged to write another draft upon Mr. Dix to settle the wails: and -picquet in the travelling-chaise all the way to London. Dining at -Brooks's, we encountered Fitzpatrick and Comyn and my Lord Carlisle. - -"Now how much has Charles borrowed of you, Mr. Carvel?" demanded -Fitzpatrick, as we took our seats. - -"I'll lay ten guineas that Charles has him mortgaged this day month, -though he owns as much land as William Penn, and is as rich as Fordyce." - -Comyn demanded where the devil I had been, though he knew perfectly. He -was uncommonly silent during dinner, and then asked me if I had heard -the news. I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the -quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. - -"Curse you, Richard," says be; "you have put me in such a temper that I -vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting -to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill." - -"Ill!" I said, catching my breath. - -"Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say. She was missed at Lady -Pembroke's that Friday you had the scene with her, and at Lady -Ailesbury's on Saturday. On Monday morning, when I come to you for -tidings, you are off watching Charles make an ass of himself at -Newmarket." - -"And how is she now, Comyn?" I asked, catching him by the arm. - -"You may go yourself and see, and be cursed, Richard Carvel. She is in -trouble, and you are pleasure-seeking in the country. Damme! you deserve -richly to lose her." - -Calling for my greatcoat, and paying no heed to the jeers of the company -for leaving before the toasts and the play, I fairly ran to Arlington -Street. I was in a passion of remorse. Comyn had been but just. -Granting, indeed, that she had refused to marry me, was that any reason -why I should desert my life-long friend and playmate? A hundred little -tokens of her affection for me rose to mind, and last of all that -rescue from Castle Yard in the face of all Mayfair. And in that hour of -darkness the conviction that something was wrong came back upon me -with redoubled force. Her lack of colour, her feverish actions, and the -growing slightness of her figure, all gave me a pang, as I connected -them with that scene on the balcony over the Park. - -The house was darkened, and a coach was in front of it. - -"Yessir," said the footman, "Miss Manners has been quite ill. She is now -some better, and Dr. James is with her. Mrs. Manners begs company will -excuse her." - -And Mr. Marmaduke? The man said, with as near a grin as he ever got, -that the marster was gone to Mrs. Cornelys's assembly. As I turned away, -sick at heart, the physician, in his tie-wig and scarlet cloak, came -out, and I stopped him. He was a testy man, and struck the stone an -impatient blow with his staff. - -"'Od's life, sir. I am besieged day and night by you young gentlemen. I -begin to think of sending a daily card to Almack's." - -"Sir, I am an old friend of Miss Manners," I replied, "having grown up -with her in Maryland--" - -"Are you Mr. Carvel?" he demanded abruptly, taking his hat from his arm. - -"Yes," I answered, surprised. In the gleam of the portico lanthorn he -scrutinized me for several seconds. - -"There are some troubles of the mind which are beyond the power of -physic to remedy, Mr. Carvel," said he. "She has mentioned your name, -sir, and you are to judge of my meaning. Your most obedient, sir. Good -night, sir." - -And he got into his coach, leaving me standing where I was, bewildered. - -That same fear of being alone, which has driven many a man to his cups, -sent me back to Brooks's for company. I found Fox and Comyn seated at -a table in the corner of the drawing-room, for once not playing, but -talking earnestly. Their expressions when they saw me betrayed what my -own face must have been. - -"What is it?" cried Comyn, half rising; "is she--is she--" - -"No, she is better," I said. - -He looked relieved. - -"You must have frightened him badly, Jack," said Fox. - -I flung myself into a chair, and Fox proposed whist, something unusual -for him. Comyn called for cards, and was about to go in search of a -fourth, when we all three caught sight of the Duke of Chartersea in the -door, surveying the room with a cold leisure. His eye paused when in -line with us, and we were seized with astonishment to behold him making -in our direction. - -"Squints!" exclaimed Mr. Fox, "now what the devil can the hound want?" - -"To pull your nose for sending him to market," my Lord suggested. - -Fox laughed coolly. - -"Lay you twenty he doesn't, Jack," he said. - -His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming -to force the fighting. The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round -mahogany table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for -the Covent Garden story was well known. Chartersea laid his hand on -the back of our fourth chair, greeted us with some ceremony, and said -something which, under the circumstances, was almost unheard of in -that day: "If you stand in need of one, gentlemen, I should deem it an -honour." - -The situation had in it enough spice for all of us. We welcomed him with -alacrity. The cards were cut, and it fell to his Grace to deal, which -he did very prettily, despite his heavy hands. He drew Charles Fox, and -they won steadily. The conversation between deals was anywhere; on the -virtue of Morello cherries for the gout, to which his Grace was already -subject; on Mr. Fox's Ariel, and why he had not carried Sandwich's cup -at Newmarket; on the advisability of putting three-year-olds on the -track; in short, on a dozen small topics of the kind. At length, when -Comyn and I had lost some fifty pounds between us, Chartersea threw down -the cards. - -"My coach waits to-night, gentlemen," said he, with some sort of an -accent that did not escape us. "It would give me the greatest pleasure -and you will sup with me in Hanover Square." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS - -His Grace's offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce have -expected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment. -We knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and on -the way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, and -I answered the pressure. Our coats and canes were taken by the duke's -lackeys when we arrived. We were shown over the house. Until now--so his -Grace informed us--it had not been changed since the time of the fourth -duke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of the -Hanoverian succession. The rooms were high-panelled and furnished in -the German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built. But some -were stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costly -marble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renown -was decorating the ceilings. His Grace appeared to be at some pains that -the significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; was -constantly appealing to Mr. Fox's taste on this or that feature. But -those fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunity -to wink. It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Chartersea -meant to be married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with a -purpose. For me he would have put himself out not an inch had he not -understood that my support came from those quarters. - -He tempered off this exhibition by showing us a collection of pottery -famous in England, that had belonged to the fifth duke, his father. -Every piece of it, by the way, afterwards brought an enormous sum at -auction. Supper was served in a warm little room of oak. The game was -from Derresley Manor, the duke's Nottinghamshire seat, and the wine, so -he told us, was some of fifty bottles of rare Chinon he had inherited. -Melted rubies it was indeed, of the sort which had quickened the blood -of many a royal gathering at Blois and Amboise and Chenonceaux,--the -distilled peasant song of the Loire valley. In it many a careworn clown -had tasted the purer happiness of the lowly. Our restraint gave way -under its influence. His Grace lost for the moment his deformities, and -Mr. Fox made us laugh until our sides ached again. His Lordship -told many a capital yarn, and my own wit was afterwards said to be -astonishing, though I can recall none of it to support the affirmation. - -Not a word or even a hint of Dorothy had been uttered, nor did -Chartersea so much as refer to his Covent Garden experience. At length, -when some half dozen of the wine was gone, and the big oak clock had -struck two, the talk lapsed. It was Charles Fox, of course, who threw -the spark into the powder box. - -"We were speaking of hunting, Chartersea," he said. "Did you ever know -George Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?" - -"No," said his Grace, very innocent. - -"No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat him -for reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit any -colt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then, -with the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging round -the hall gates. But the old squire had plenty of good hunters in the -stables, and haunches on the board, and a cellar that was like the -widow's cruse of oil, or barrel of meal--or whatever she had. All the -old man had to do to lose a guinea was to lay it on a card. He never -nicked in his life, so they say. Well, young George got after a rich -tea-merchant's daughter who had come into the country near by. 'Slife! -she was a saucy jade, and devilish pretty. Such a face! so Stavordale -vowed, and such a neck! and such eyes! so innocent, so ravishingly -innocent. But she knew cursed well George was after the bank deposit, -and kept him galloping. And when he got a view, halloa, egad! she was -stole away again, and no scent. - -"One morning George was out after the hounds with Stavordale, who told -me the story, and a lot of fellows who had come over from Newmarket. He -was upon Aftermath, the horse that Foley bought for five hundred pounds -and was a colt then. Of course he left the field out of sight behind. He -made for a gap in the park wall (faith! there was no lack of 'em), but -the colt refused, and over went George and plumped into a cart of winter -apples some farmer's sot was taking to Bury Saint Edmunds to market. The -fall knocked the sense out of George, for he hasn't much, and Stavordale -thinks he must have struck a stake as he went in. Anyway, the apples -rolled over on top of him, and the drunkard on the seat never woke up, -i' faith. And so they came to town. - -"It so chanced, egad, that the devil sent Miss Tea Merchant to Bury to -buy apples. She amused herself at playing country gentlewoman while papa -worked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and ate -three (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, and -George with it. 'Pon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. And -the lady said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that since -she had bought him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gads -life! she has got him yet, which is a deal stranger." - -Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible. -But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to his -Grace's own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Fox -stared vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said something -especially daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, like -boys who have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. There -was a metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke. - -"I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you." - -"Od's, and so he can!" cried Jack. "I'll take oath on that." - -"I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord," says his Grace, very -off-hand, "that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twenty -minutes." - -"Done!" says Jack, before I could draw breath. - -"I'll take your Grace for another hundred," calmly added Mr. Fox. - -"It seems to me, your Grace," I cried, angry all at once, "it seems to -me that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am not -a jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to lose -money." - -Chartersea swung around my way. - -"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," said he, very coolly, very politely; "yours -is the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be called -off." - -"Slife! I double it!" I said hotly, "provided the horse is alive, and -will stand up." - -"Devilish well put, Richard!" Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off his -restraint. - -"I give you my word the horse is alive, sir," he answered, with a mock -bow; "'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead." - -A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Fox -who spoke first. - -"I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,"--he emphasized -the word forcibly,--"will not refuse to ride the horse for another -twenty minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay your -Grace another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with." - -Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for a longer -head. He grew livid as he perceived how neatly he had been snared in his -own trap. - -"Done!" he cried loudly; "done, gentlemen. It only remains to hit upon -time and place for the contest. I go to York to-morrow, to be back -this day fortnight. And if you will do me the favour of arranging -with Baltimore for the horse, I shall be obliged. I believe he intends -selling it to Astley, the showman." - -"And are we to keep it?" asks Mr. Fox. - -"I am dealing with men of honour," says the duke, with a bow: "I need -have no better assurance that the horse will not be ridden in the -interval." - -"'Od so!" said Comyn, when we were out; "very handsome of him. But I -would not say as much for his Grace." - -And Mr. Fox declared that the duke was no coward, but all other epithets -known might be called him. "A very diverting evening, Richard," said he; -"let's to your apartments and have a bowl, and talk it over." - -And thither we went. - -I did not sleep much that night, but 'twas of Dolly I thought rather -than of Chartersea. I was abroad early, and over to inquire in Arlington -Street, where I found she had passed a good night. And I sent Banks -a-hooting for some violets to send her, for I knew she loved that -flower. - -Between ten and eleven Mr. Fox and Comyn and I set out for Baltimore -House. When you go to London, my dears, you will find a vast difference -in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury from what it was that May morning -in 1770. Great Russell Street was all a sweet fragrance of gardens, -mingling with the smell of the fields from the open country to the -north. We drove past red Montagu House with its stone facings and dome, -like a French hotel, and the cluster of buildings at its great gate. It -had been then for over a decade the British Museum. The ground behind -it was a great resort for Londoners of that day. Many a sad affair was -fought there, but on that morning we saw a merry party on their way to -play prisoner's base. - -Then we came to the gardens in front of Bedford House, which are now -Bloomsbury Square. For my part I preferred this latter mansion to the -French creation by its side, and admired its long and graceful lines. -Its windows commanded a sweep from Holborn on the south to Highgate on -the north. To the east of it, along Southampton Row, a few great houses -had gone up or were building; and at the far end of that was Baltimore -house, overlooking her Grace of Bedford's gardens. Beyond Lamb's Conduit -Fields stretched away to the countryside. - -I own I had a lively curiosity to see that lordly ruler, the proprietor -of our province, whose birthday we celebrated after his Majesty's. Had -I not been in a great measure prepared, I should have had a revulsion -indeed. - -When he heard that Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn were below stairs he -gave orders to show them up to his bedroom, where he received us in a -night-gown embroidered with oranges. My Lord Baltimore, alas! was not -much to see. He did not make the figure a ruler should as he sat in his -easy chair, and whined and cursed his Swiss. He was scarce a year over -forty, and he had all but run his race. Dissipation and corrosion had -set their seal upon him, had stamped his yellow face with crows' feet -and blotted it with pimples. But then the glimpse of a fine gentleman -just out of bed of a morning, before he is made for the day, is unfair. - -"Morning, Charles! Howdy, Jack!" said his Lordship, apathetically. "Glad -to know you, Mr. Carvel. Heard of your family. 'Slife! Wish there were -more like 'em in the province." - -This sentiment not sitting very well upon his Lordship, I bowed, and -said nothing. - -"By the bye," he continued, pouring out his chocolate into the dish, -"I sent a damned rake of a parson out there some years gone. Handsome -devil, too. Never seen his match with the women, egad. 'Od's fish--" -he leered. And then added with an oath and a nod and a vile remark: -"Married three times to my knowledge. Carried off dozen or so more. Some -of 'em for me. Many a good night I've had with him. Drank between us one -evening at Essex's gallon and half Champagne and Burgundy apiece. He got -to know too much, y' know," he concluded, with a wicked wink. "Had to -buy him up pack him off." - -"His name, Fred?" said Comyn, with a smile at me. - -"'Sdeath! That's it. Trouble to remember. Damned if I can think." And he -repeated this remark over and over. - -"Allen?" said Comyn. - -"Yes," said Baltimore; "Allen. And egad I think he'll find hell a hotter -place than me. You know him, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Yes," I replied. I said no more. I make no reservations when I avow I -was never so disgusted in my life. But as I looked upon him, haggard -and worn, with retribution so neat at hand, I had no words to protest or -condemn. - -Baltimore gave a hollow mirthless laugh, stopped short, and looked at -Charles Fox. - -"Curse you, Charles! I suppose you are after that little matter I owe -you for quinze." - -"Damn the little matter!" said Fox. "Come, get you perfumed and dressed, -and order up some of your Tokay while we wait. I have to go to St. -Stephens. Mr. Carvel has come to buy your horse Pollux. He has bet -Chartersea two hundred guineas he rides him for twenty minutes." - -"The devil he has!" cried his Lordship, jaded no longer. "Why, you must -know, Mr. Carvel, there was no groom in my stables who would sit him -until Foley made me a present of his man, Miller, who started to ride -him to Hyde Park. As he came out of Great Russell Street, by gads life! -the horse broke and ran out the Tottenham Court Road all the way to -Hampstead. And the fiend picked out a big stone water trough and tossed -Miller against it. Then they gathered up the fragments. Damme if I like -to see suicide, Mr. Carvel. If Chartersea wants to kill you, let him try -it in the fields behind Montagu House here." - -I told his Lordship that I had made the wager, and could not in honour -withdraw, though the horse had killed a dozen grooms. But already he -seemed to have lost interest. He gave a languid pull at the velvet -tassel on his bell-rope, ordered the wine; and, being informed that -his anteroom below was full of people, had them all dismissed with the -message that he was engaged upon important affairs. He told Mr. Fox -he had heard of the Jerusalem Chamber, and vowed he would have a like -institution. He told me he wished the colony of Maryland in hell; that -he was worn out with the quarrels of Governor Eden and his Assembly, and -offered to lay a guinea that the Governor's agent would get to him that -day,--will-he, nill-he. I did not think it worth while to argue with -such a man. - -My Lord took three-quarters of an hour to dress, and swore he had not -accomplished the feat so quickly in a year. He washed his hands and face -in a silver basin, and the scent of the soap filled the room. He rated -his Swiss for putting cinnamon upon his ruffles in place of attar of -roses, and attempted to regale us the while with some of his choicest -adventures. In more than one of these, by the way, his Grace of -Chartersea figured. It was Fox who brought him up. - -"See here, Baltimore," he said, "I'm not squeamish. But I'm cursed if I -like to hear a man who may die any time between bottles talk so." - -His Lordship took the rebuke with an oath, and presently hobbled down -the stairs of the great and silent house to the stable court, where -two grooms were in waiting with the horse. He was an animal of amazing -power, about sixteen hands, and dapple gray in colour. And it required -no special knowledge to see that he had a devil inside him. It gleamed -wickedly out of his eye. - -"'Od's life, Richard!" cried Charles, "he has a Jew nose; by all the -seven tribes I bid you 'ware of him." - -"You have but to ride him with a gold bit, Richard," said Comyn, "and he -is a kitten, I'll warrant." - -At that moment Pollux began to rear and kick, so that it took both the -'ostlers to hold him. - -"Show him a sovereign," suggested Fox. "How do you feel, Richard?" - -"I never feared a horse yet," I said with perfect truth, "nor do I fear -this one, though I know he may kill me." - -"I'll lay you twenty pounds you have at least one bone broken, and ten -that you are killed," Baltimore puts in querulously, from the doorway. - -"I'll do this, my Lord," I answered. "If I ride him, he is mine. If he -throws me, I give you twenty pounds for him." - -The gentlemen laughed, and Baltimore vowed he could sell the horse to -Astley for fifty; that Pollux was the son of Renown, of the Duke -of Kingston's stud, and much more. But Charles rallied him out by -a reference to the debt at quinze, and an appeal to his honour as a -sportsman. And swore he was discouraging one of the prettiest encounters -that would take place in England for many a long day. And so the horse -was sent to the stables of the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, and -left there at my order. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. A GLIMPSE OF MR. GARRICK - -Day after day I went to Arlington Street, each time to be turned away -with the same answer: that Miss Manners was a shade better, but still -confined to her bed. You will scarce believe me, my dears, when I say -that Mr. Marmaduke had gone at this crisis with his Grace to the York -races. On the fourth morning, I think, I saw Mrs. Manners. She was much -worn with the vigil she had kept, and received me with an apathy to -frighten me. Her way with me had hitherto always been one of kindness -and warmth. In answer to the dozen questions I showered upon her, she -replied that Dorothy's malady was in no wise dangerous, so Dr. James had -said, and undoubtedly arose out of the excitement of a London season. As -I knew, Dorothy was of the kind that must run and run until she dropped. -She had no notion of the measure of her own strength. Mrs. Manners hoped -that, in a fortnight, she would be recovered sufficiently to be removed -to one of the baths. - -"She wishes me to thank you for the flowers, Richard. She has them -constantly by her. And bids me tell you how sorry she is that she is -compelled to miss so much of your visit to England. Are you enjoying -London, Richard? I hear that you are well liked by the best of company." - -I left, prodigiously cast down, and went directly to Mr. Wedgwood's, to -choose the prettiest set of tea-cups and dishes I could find there. I -pitied Mrs. Manners from my heart, and made every allowance for her talk -with me, knowing the sorrow of her life. Here was yet another link -in the chain of the Chartersea evidence. And I made no doubt that -Mr. Manner's brutal desertion at such a time must be hard to bear. I -continued my visits of inquiry, nearly always meeting some person of -consequence, or the footman of such, come on the same errand as myself. -And once I encountered the young man she had championed against his -Grace at Lady Tankerville's. - -Rather than face the array of anxieties that beset me, I plunged -recklessly into the gayeties--nay, the excesses--of Mr. Charles Fox and -his associates. I paid, in truth, a very high price for my friendship -with Mr. Fox. But, since it did not quite ruin me, I look back upon -it as cheaply bought. To know the man well, to be the subject of his -regard, was to feel an infatuation in common with the little band of -worshippers which had come with him from Eton. They remained faithful to -him all his days, nor adversity nor change of opinion could shake their -attachment. They knew his faults, deplored them, and paid for them. And -this was not beyond my comprehension, tho' many have wondered at it. Did -he ask me for five hundred pounds,--which he did,--I gave it freely, and -would gladly have given more, tho' I saw it all wasted in a night when -the dice rolled against him. For those honoured few of whom I speak -likewise knew his virtues, which were quite as large as the faults, -albeit so mingled with them that all might not distinguish. - -I attended some of the routs and parties, to all of which, as a young -colonial gentleman of wealth and family, I was made welcome. I went to -a ball at Lord Stanley's, a mixture of French horns and clarionets and -coloured glass lanthorns and candles in gilt vases, and young ladies -pouring tea in white, and musicians in red, and draperies and flowers ad -libitum. There I met Mr. Walpole, looking on very critically. He was -the essence of friendliness, asked after my equerry, and said I had -done well to ship him to America. At the opera, with Lord Ossory and -Mr. Fitzpatrick, I talked through the round of the boxes, from Lady -Pembroke's on the right to Lady Hervey's on the left, where Dolly's -illness and Lady Harrington's snuffing gabble were the topics rather -than Giardini's fiddling. Mr. Storer took me to Foote's dressing-room -at the Haymarket, where we found the Duke of Cumberland lounging. I was -presented, and thought his Royal Highness had far less dignity than the -monkey-comedian we had come to see. - -I must not forget the visit I made to Drury Lane Playhouse with my Lords -Carlisle and Grantham and Comyn. The great actor received me graciously -in such a company, you may be sure. He appeared much smaller off the -boards than on, and his actions and speech were quick and nervous. Gast, -his hairdresser, was making him up for the character of Richard III. - -"'Ods!" said Mr. Garrick, "your Lordships come five minutes too late. -Goldsmith is but just gone hence, fresh from his tailor, Filby, of Water -Lane. The most gorgeous creature in London, gentlemen, I'll be sworn. -He is even now, so he would have me know, gone by invitation to my Lord -Denbigh's box, to ogle the ladies." - -"And have you seen your latest lampoon, Mr. Garrick?" asks Comyn, -winking at me. - -Up leaps Mr. Garrick, so suddenly as to knock the paint-pot from Gast's -hand. - -"Nay, your Lordship jests, surely!" he cried, his voice shaking. - -"Jests!" says my Lord, very serious; "do I jest, Carlisle?" And turning -to Mr. Cross, the prompter, who stood by, "Fetch me the St. James's -Evening Post," says he. - -"'Ods my life!" continues poor Garrick, almost in tears; "I have loaned -Foote upwards of two thousand pounds. And last year, as your Lordship -remembers, took charge of his theatre when his leg was cut off. 'Pon my -soul, I cannot account for his ingratitude." - -"'Tis not Foote," says Carlisle, biting his lip; "I know Foote's mark." - -"Then Johnson," says the actor, "because I would not let him have my -fine books in his dirty den to be kicked about the floor, but put my -library at his disposal--" - -"Nay, nor Johnson. Nor yet Macklin nor Murphy." - -"Surely not--" cries Mr. Garrick, turning white under the rouge. The -name remained unpronounced. - -"Ay, ay, Junius, in the Evening Post. He has fastened upon you at last," -answers Comyn, taking the paper. - -"'Sdeath! Garrick," Carlisle puts in, very solemn, "what have you -done to offend the Terrible Unknown? Talebearing to his Majesty, I'll -warrant! I gave you credit for more discretion." - -At these words Mr. Garrick seized the chair for support, and swung -heavily into it. Whereat the young lords burst into such a tempest of -laughter that I could not refrain from joining them. As for Mr. Garrick, -he was so pleased to have escaped that he laughed too, though with a -palpable nervousness. - - [Note by the editor. It was not long after this that Mr. Garrick's - punishment came, and for the self-same offence.] - -"By the bye, Garrick," Carlisle remarked slyly, when he had recovered, -"Mrs. Crewe was vastly taken with the last 'vers' you left on her -dressing-table." - -"Was she, now, my Lord?" said the great actor, delighted, but scarce -over his fright. "You must know that I have writ one to my Lady -Carlisle, on the occasion of her dropping her fan in Piccadilly." -Whereupon he proceeded to recite it, and my Lord Carlisle, being -something of a poet himself, pronounced it excellent. - -Mr. Garrick asked me many questions concerning American life and -manners, having a play in his repertory the scene of which was laid in -New York. In the midst of this we were interrupted by a dirty fellow who -ran in, crying excitedly: - -"Sir, the Archbishop of York is getting drunk at the Bear, and swears -he'll be d--d if he'll act to-night." - -"The archbishop may go to the devil!" snapped Mr. Garrick. "I do not -know a greater rascal, except yourself." - -I was little short of thunderstruck. But presently Mr. Garrick added -complainingly: - -"I paid a guinea for the archbishop, but the fellow got me three -murderers to-day and the best alderman I ever clapped eyes upon. So we -are square." - -After the play we supped with him at his new house in Adelphi Terrace, -next Topham Beauclerk's. 'Twas handsomely built in the Italian style, -and newly furnished throughout, for Mr. Garrick travelled now with a -coach and six and four menservants, forsooth. And amongst other things -he took pride in showing us that night was a handsome snuffbox which the -King of Denmark had given him the year before, his Majesty's portrait -set in jewels thereon. - -Presently the news of the trial of Lord Baltimore's horse began to be -noised about, and was followed by a deluge of wagers at Brooks's and -White's and elsewhere. Comyn and Fox, my chief supporters, laid large -sums upon me, despite all my persuasion. But the most unpleasant part -of the publicity was the rumour that the match was connected with the -struggle for Miss Manners's hand. I was pressed with invitations to -go into the country to ride this or that horse. His Grace the Duke of -Grafton had a mount he would have me try at Wakefield Lodge, and was far -from pleasant over my refusal of his invitation. I was besieged by young -noblemen like Lord Derby and Lord Foley, until I was heartily sick of -notoriety, and cursed the indiscretion of the person who let out the -news, and my own likewise. My Lord March, who did me the honour to lay -one hundred pounds upon my skill, insisted that I should make one of a -party to the famous amphitheatre near Lambeth. Mr. Astley, the showman, -being informed of his Lordship's intention, met us on Westminster Bridge -dressed in his uniform as sergeant major of the Royal Light Dragoons -and mounted on a white charger. He escorted us to one of the large boxes -under the pent-house reserved for the gentry. And when the show was over -and the place cleared, begged, that I would ride his Indian Chief. I -refused; but March pressed me, and Comyn declared he had staked his -reputation upon my horsemanship. Astley was a large man, about my build, -and I donned a pair of his leather breeches and boots, and put Indian -Chief to his paces around the ring. I found him no more restive, nor as -much so, as Firefly. The gentlemen were good enough to clap me roundly, -and Astley vowed (no doubt because of the noble patrons present) that he -had never seen a better seat. - -We all repaired afterwards for supper to Don Saltero's Coffee House and -Museum in Chelsea. And I remembered having heard my grandfather speak of -the place, and tell how he had seen Sir Richard Steele there, listening -to the Don scraping away at the "Merry Christ Church Bells" on his -fiddle. The Don was since dead, but King James's coronation sword and -King Henry VIII.'s coat of mail still hung on the walls. - -The remembrance of that fortnight has ever been an appalling one. -Mr. Carvel had never attempted to teach me the value of money. My -grandfather, indeed, held but four things essential to the conduct of -life; namely, to fear God, love the King, pay your debts, and pursue -your enemies. There was no one in London to advise me, Comyn being but a -wild lad like myself. But my Lord Carlisle gave me a friendly warning: - -"Have a care, Carvel," said he, kindly, "or you will run your -grandfather through, and all your relations beside. I little realized -the danger of it when I first came up." (He was not above two and twenty -then.) "And now I have a wife, am more crippled than I care to be, -thanks to this devilish high play. Will you dine with Lady Carlisle in -St. James's Place next Friday?" - -My heart went out to this young nobleman. Handsome he was, as a picture. -And he knew better than most of your fine gentlemen how to put a check -on his inclinations. As a friend he had few equals, his purse being ever -at the command of those he loved. And his privations on Fox's account -were already greater than many knew. - -I had a call, too, from Mr. Dix. I found him in my parlour one morning, -cringing and smiling, and, as usual, half an hour away from his point. - -"I warrant you, Mr. Carvel," says he, "there are few young gentlemen not -born among the elect that make the great friends you are blessed with." - -"I have been fortunate, Mr. Dix," I replied dryly. - -"Fortunate!" he cried; "good Lord, sir! I hear of you everywhere with -Mr. Fox, and you have been to Astley's with my Lord March. And I have a -draft from you at Ampthill." - -"Vastly well manoeuvred, Mr. Dix," I said, laughing at the guilty change -in his pink complexion. "And hence you are here." - -He fidgeted, and seeing that I paid him no attention, but went on with -my chocolate, he drew a paper from his pocket and opened it. - -"You have spent a prodigious sum, sir, for so short a time," said he, -unsteadily. "'Tis very well for you, Mr. Carvel, but I have to remember -that you are heir only. I am advancing you money without advices from -his Worship, your grandfather. A most irregular proceeding, sir, and one -likely to lead me to trouble. I know not what your allowance may be." - -"Nor I, Mr. Dix," I replied, unreasonably enough. "To speak truth, I -have never had one. You have my Lord Comyn's signature to protect you," -I went on ill-naturedly, for I had not had enough sleep. "And in case -Mr. Carvel protests, which is unlikely and preposterous, you shall have -ten percentum on your money until I can pay you. That should be no poor -investment." - -He apologized. But he smoothed out the paper on his knee. - -"It is only right to tell you, Mr. Carvel, that you have spent one -thousand eight hundred and thirty-seven odd pounds, in home money, which -is worth more than your colonial. Your grandfather's balance with me -was something less than one thousand five hundred, as I made him a -remittance in December last. I have advanced the rest. And yesterday," -he went on, resolutely for him, "yesterday I got an order for five -hundred more." - -And he handed me the paper. I must own that the figures startled me. I -laid it down with a fine show of indifference. - -"And so you wish me to stop drawing? Very good, Mr. Dix." - -He must have seen some threat implied, though I meant none. He was my -very humble servant at once, and declared he had called only to let me -know where I stood. Then he bowed himself out, wishing me luck with the -horse he had heard of, and I lighted my pipe with his accompt. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. THE SERPENTINE - -Whether it was Mr. Dix. that started me reflecting, or my Lord -Carlisle's warning, or a few discreet words from young Lady Carlisle -herself, I know not. At all events, I made a resolution to stop -high play, and confine myself to whist and quinze and picquet. For -I conceived a notion, enlarged by Mr. Fox, that I had more than once -fallen into the tender clutches of the hounds. I was so reflecting -the morning following Lord Carlisle's dinner, when Banks announced a -footman. - -"Mr. Manners's man, sir," he added significantly, and handed me a little -note. I seized it, and, to hide my emotion, told him to give the man his -beer. - -The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the -wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. - -"So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into -Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never -Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir. One Matter I have -herd that I am Most Concerned about, & I pray you, my Dear Richard do -not allow y'r Recklessness & Contemt for Danger to betray you into a -Stil more Amazing Follie or I shall be very Miserable Indeed. I have -Hopes that the Report is at Best a Rumour & you must sit down & write me -that it is Sir that my Minde may be set at Rest. I fear for you Vastly -& I beg you not Riske y'r Life Foolishly & this for the Sake of one who -subscribes herself y'r Old Playmate & Well-Wisher Dolly. - -"P.S. I have writ Sir Jon Fielding to put you in the Marshallsee or New -Gate until Mr. Carvel can be tolde. I am Better & hope soon to see you -agen & have been informed of y'r Dayly Visitts & y'r Flowers are beside -me. D. M." - - -In about an hour and a half, Mr. Marmaduke's footman was on his way back -to Arlington Street in a condition not to be lightly spoken of. During -that period I had committed an hundred silly acts, and incidentally -learned the letter by heart. I was much distressed to think that she had -heard of the affair of the horse, and more so to surmise that the gossip -which clung to it must also have reached her. But I fear I thought most -of her anxiety concerning me, which reflection caused my hand to shake -from very happiness. "Y'r Flowers are beside me," and, "I beg you not -Riske y'r Life Foolishly," and "I shall be very Miserable Indeed" But -then: "Y'r Old Plamate & Well Wisher"! Nay, she was inscrutable as ever. - -And my reply,--what was that to be? How I composed it in the state of -mind I was in, I have no conception to this day. The chimney was clogged -with papers ere (in a spelling to vie with Dolly's) I had set down my -devotion, my undying devotion, to her interests. I asked forgiveness for -my cruelty on that memorable morning I had last seen her. But even -to allude to the bet with Chartersea was beyond my powers; and as for -renouncing it, though for her sake,--that was not to be thought of. -The high play I readily promised to avoid in the future, and I signed -myself,--well, it matters not after seventy years. - -The same day, Tuesday, I received a letter from his Grace of Chartersea -saying that he looked to reach London that night, but very late. He -begged that Mr. Fox and Lord Comyn and I would sup with him at the Star -and Garter at eleven, to fix matters for the trial on the morrow. Mr. -Fox could not go, but Comyn and I went to the inn, having first attended -"The Tempest" at Drury Lane with Lady Di and Mr. Beauclerk. - -We found his Grace awaiting us in a private room, with Captain Lewis, -of the 60th Foot, who had figured as a second in the duel with young -Atwater. The captain was a rake and a bully and a toadeater, of course, -with a loud and profane tongue, and he had had a bottle too many in the -duke's travelling-coach. There was likewise a Sir John Brooke, a country -neighbour of his Grace in Nottinghamshire. Sir John apparently had no -business in such company. He was a hearty, fox-hunting squire who had -seen little of London; a three-bottle man who told a foul story and went -asleep immediately afterwards. Much to my disappointment, Mr. Manners -had gone to Arlington Street direct. I had longed for a chance to speak -a little of my mind to him. - -This meeting, which I shall not take the time to recount, was near to -ending in an open breach of negotiations. His Grace had lost money -at York, and more to Lewis on the way to London. He was in one of his -vicious humours. He insisted that Hyde Park should be the place of the -contest. In vain did Comyn and I plead for some less public spot on -account of the disagreeable advertisement the matter had received. His -Grace would be damned before he would yield; and Lewis, adding a more -forcible contingency, hinted that our side feared a public trial. Comyn -presently shut him up. - -"Do you ride the horse after his Grace is thrown," says he, "and I -agree to get on after and he does not kill you. 'Sdeath! I am not of the -army," adds my Lord, cuttingly; "I am a seaman, and not supposed to know -a stirrup from a snaffle." - -"'Od's blood!" yelled the captain, "you question my horsemanship, my -Lord? Do I understand your Lordship to question my courage?" - -"After I am thrown!" cries his Grace, very ugly, and fingering the -jewels on his hilt. - -Sir John was awakened by the noise, and turning heavily spilled the -whole of a pint of port on the duke's satin waist coat and breeches. -Whereat Chartersea in a rage flung the bottle at his head with a curse, -which it seems was a habit with his Grace. But the servants coming in, -headed by my old friend the chamberlain, they quieted down. And it was -presently agreed that the horse was to be at noon in the King's Old -Road, or Rotten Row (as it was then beginning to be called), in Hyde -Park. - -I shall carry to the grave the memory of the next day. I was up betimes, -and over to the White Horse Cellar to see Pollux groomed, where I found -a crowd about the opening into the stable court. "The young American!" -called some one, and to my astonishment and no small annoyance I was -greeted with a "Huzzay for you, sir!" "My groat's on your honour!" - -This good-will was owing wholly to the duke's unpopularity with all -classes. Inside, sporting gentlemen in hunting-frocks of red and green, -and velvet visored caps, were shouldering favoured 'ostlers from the -different noblemen's stables; and there was a liberal sprinkling of the -characters who attended the cock mains in Drury Lane and at Newmarket. -At the moment of my arrival the head 'ostler was rubbing down the -stallion's flank. - -"Here's ten pounds to ride him, Saunders!" called one of the -hunting-frocks. - -"Umph!" sniffed the 'ostler; "ride 'im is it, yere honour? Two hunner -beast eno', an' a Portugal crown i' th' boot. Sooner take me chaunces o' -Tyburn on 'Ounslow 'Eath. An' Miller waurna able to sit 'im, 'tis no for -th' likes o' me to try. Th' bloody devil took th' shirt off Teddy's back -this morn. I adwises th' young Buckskin t' order 's coffin." Just -then he perceived me, and touched his cap, something abashed. "With -submission, sir, y'r honour'll take an old man's adwise an' not go near -'im." - -Pollux's appearance, indeed, was not calculated to reassure me. He -looked ugly to exaggeration, his ears laid back and his nostrils as big -as crowns, and his teeth bared time and time. Now and anon an impatient -fling of his hoof would make the grooms start away from him. Since -coming to the inn he had been walked a couple of miles each day, with -two men with loaded whips to control him. I was being offered a deal -of counsel, when big Mr. Astley came in from Lambeth, and silenced them -all. - -"These grooms, Mr. Carvel," he said to me, as we took a bottle in -private inside, "these grooms are the very devil for superstition. And -once a horse gets a bad name with them, good-by to him. Miller knew -how to ride, of course, but like many another of them, was too damned -over-confident. I warned him more than once for getting young horses -into a fret, and I'm willing to lay a ten-pound note that he angered -Pollux. 'Od's life! He is a vicious beast. So was his father, Culloden, -before him. But here's luck to you, sir!" says Mr. Astley, tipping -his glass; "having seen you ride, egad! I have put all the money I can -afford in your favour." - -Before I left him he had given me several valuable hints as to the -manner of managing that kind of a horse: not to auger him with the spurs -unless it became plain that he meant to kill me; to try persuasion -first and force afterwards; and secondly, he taught me a little trick of -twisting the bit which I have since found very useful. - -Leaving the White Horse, I was followed into Piccadilly by the crowd, -until I was forced to take refuge in a hackney chaise. The noise of the -affair had got around town, and I was heartily sorry I had not taken the -other and better method of trying conclusions with the duke, and slapped -his face. I found Jack Comyn in Dover Street, and presently Mr. Fox came -for us with his chestnuts in his chaise, Fitzpatrick with him. At Hyde -Park Corner there was quite a jam of coaches, chaises, and cabriolets -and beribboned phaetons, which made way for us, but kept us busy bowing -as we passed among them. It seemed as if everybody of consequence that -I had met in London was gathered there. One face I missed, and rejoiced -that she was absent, for I had a degraded feeling like that of being the -favourite in a cudgel-bout. And the thought that her name was connected -with all this made my face twitch. I heard the people clapping and saw -them waving in the carriages as we passed, and some stood forward before -the rest in a haphazard way, without rhyme or reason. Mr. Walpole with -Lady Di Beauclerk, and Mr. Storer and Mr. Price and Colonel St. John, -and Lord and Lady Carlisle and Lady Ossory. These I recognized. Inside, -the railing along the row was lined with people. And there stood Pollux, -bridled, with a blanket thrown over his great back and chest, surrounded -still by the hunting-frocks, who had followed him from the White Horse. -Mixed in with these, swearing, conjecturing, and betting, were some to -surprise me, whose names were connected with every track in England: the -Duke of Grafton and my Lords Sandwich and March and Bolingbroke, and -Sir Charles Bunbury, and young Lords Derby and Foley, who, after -establishing separate names for folly on the tracks, went into -partnership. My Lord Baltimore descended listlessly from his cabriolet -to join the group. They all sang out when they caught sight of our -party, and greeted me with a zeal to carry me off my feet. And my Lord -Sandwich, having done me the honour to lay something very handsome upon -me, had his chief jockey on hand to give me some final advice. I believe -I was the coolest of any of them. And at that time of all others the -fact came up to me with irresistible humour that I, a young colonial -Whig, who had grown up to detest these people, should be rubbing noses -with them. - -The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay -gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted. As -a most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was -held, he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March -and Sandwich. And it fell to me to champion these. After some discussion -between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire. His Lordship -took his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater -from his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,--the -terms, as he said, being private. - -"Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?" he asked. - -"I am, my Lord," I answered. The bells were pealing noon. - -"Then mount, sir," said he. - -The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long -forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake. My -breath began to come quickly. Through the sunny haze I saw the cows -and deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye -handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate. They took -the blanket off the stallion. Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he -looked brutal indeed. The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel -livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky "God keep you, sir!" -Suddenly I was up. The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a -peaceful farm in Devonshire. The grooms let go of the stallion's head. - -He stood trembling like the throes of death. I gripped my knees as -Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force -impelled me to look aside. From between the broad and hunching shoulders -of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to -freeze his prey. Cattle--fish! The word kept running over my tongue. -I thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and -were soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy. She had begged me not to ride, -and I was risking a life which might save hers. - -The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at -once. The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver -blur. The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell. Fainter and -fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, -and the leaps grew longer and longer. Then my head was cleared like a -steamed window-pane in a cold blast. I saw the road curve in front of -me, I put all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle -was swept into the busy Kensington Road. For the first time I knew what -it was to fear a horse. The stallion's neck was stretched, his shoes -rang on the cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between -carriages coming together. In a flash I understood why the duke had -insisted upon Hyde Park, and that nerved me some. I saw the frightened -coachmen pulling their horses this way and that, I heard the cries of -the foot-passengers, and then I was through, I know not how. Once more -I summoned all my power, recalled the twist Astley had spoken of, and -tried it. I bent his neck for an inch of rein. Next I got another inch, -and then came a taste--the smallest taste--of mastery like elixir. The -motion changed with it, became rougher, and the hoof-beats a fraction -less frequent. He steered like a ship with sail reduced. In and out we -dodged among the wagons, and I was beginning to think I had him, when -suddenly, without a move of warning, he came down rigid with his feet -planted together, and only a miracle and my tight grip restrained me -from shooting over his head. There he stood shaking and snorting, nor -any persuasion would move him. I resorted at last to the spurs. - -He was up in the air in an instant, and came down across the road. Again -I dug in to the rowels, and clung the tighter, and this time he landed -with his head to London. A little knot of people had collected to watch -me, and out stepped a strapping fellow in the King's scarlet, from the -Guard's Horse near by. - -"Hold him, sir!" he said, tipping. "Better dismount, sir. He means -murder, y'r honour." - -"Keep clear, curse you!" I cried, waving him off. "What time is it?" - -He stepped back, no doubt thinking me mad. Some one spoke up and said it -was five minutes past noon. I had the grace to thank him, I believe. -To my astonishment I had been gone but four minutes; they had seemed -twenty. Looking about me, I found I was in the open space before old -Kensington Church, over against the archway there. Once more I dug in -the spurs, this time with success. Almost at a jump the beast took me -into the angle of posts to the east of the churchyard gate and tore up -the footpath of Church Lane, terrified men and women ahead of me taking -to the kennel. He ran irregularly, now on the side of the posts, now -against the bricks, and then I gave myself up. - -Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr. -Dulany speak of. I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the -stallion's jaw and released his mouth altogether. Incredible as it may -seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing -his head like fury, and sweating at every pore. I leaned over and patted -him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the -dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and -into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church. Without -pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I -started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me. I -understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon -with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and -a light hand. - -Before I gained the Life Guard's House I met a dozen horsemen, amongst -them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me, -Colonel St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I -was not dead. Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his -losses to see me safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed -he would give a dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered -that he was damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's -chance of being killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the -King's New Road to avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to -Hyde Park Corner, and in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there -was enough cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the -most exacting of successful generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and -finding there was a minute yet to run I went up the Row a distance and -back again amidst more huzzaing, Pollux prancing and quivering, and -frothing his bit, but never once attempting to break. - -When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce -breathe, crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox -vowed he had never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things -which the duke must have overheard.... Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose -for my buttonhole by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my -Lord March, desired to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen -of port upon me, which he had set his best cassock against. My Lord -Sandwich offered me snuff, and invited me to Hichinbroke. Indeed, I -should never be through were I to continue. But I must not forget my old -acquaintance Mr. Walpole, who protested that he must get permission to -present me to Princess Amelia: that her Royal Highness would not rest -content now, until she had seen me. I did not then know her Highness's -sporting propensity. - -Then my Lord March called upon the duke, who stood in the midst of -an army of his toadeaters. I almost pitied him then, tho' I could not -account for the feeling. I think it was because a nobleman with so great -a title should be so cordially hated and despised. There were high words -along the railing among the duke's supporters, Captain Lewis, in his -anger, going above an inference that the stallion had been broken -privately. Chartersea came forward with an indifferent swagger, as if to -say as much: and, in truth, no one looked for more sport, and some -were even turning away. He had scarce put foot to the stirrup, when -the surprise came. Two minutes were up before he was got in the saddle, -Pollux rearing and plunging and dancing in a circle, the grooms shouting -and dodging, and his Grace cursing in a voice to wake the dead and Mr. -Fox laughing, and making small wagers that he would never be mounted. -But at last the duke was up and gripped, his face bloody red, giving -vent to his fury with the spurs. - -Then something happened, and so quickly that it cannot be writ fast -enough. Pollux bolted like a shot out of a sling, vaulted the railing as -easily as you or I would hop over a stick, and galloping across the lawn -and down the embankment flung his Grace into the Serpentine. Precisely, -as Mr. Fox afterwards remarked, as the swine with the evil spirits ran -down the slope into the sea. - -An indescribable bedlam of confusion followed, lords and gentlemen, -tradesmen and grooms, hostlers and apprentices, all tumbling after, many -crying with laughter. My Lord Sandwich's jockey pulled his Grace from -the water in a most pitiable state of rage and humiliation. His side -curls gone, the powder and pomatum washed from his hair, bedraggled and -muddy and sputtering oaths, he made his way to Lord March, swearing by -all divine that a trick was put on him, that he would ride the stallion -to Land's End. His Lordship, pulling his face straight, gravely informed -the duke that the match was over. With this his Grace fell flatly -sullen, was pushed into a coach by Sir John and the captain, and drove -rapidly off Kensington way, to avoid the people at the corner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN WHICH I AM ROUNDLY BROUGHT TO TASK - -I would have gone to Arlington Street direct, but my friends had no -notion of letting me escape. They carried me off to Brooks's Club, where -a bowl of punch was brewed directly, and my health was drunk to three -times three. Mr. Storer commanded a turtle dinner in my honour. We were -not many, fortunately,--only Mr. Fox's little coterie. And it was none -other than Mr. Fox who made the speech of the evening. "May I be strung -as high as Haman," said he, amid a tempest of laughter, "if ever I saw -half so edifying a sight as his Grace pitching into the Serpentine, -unless it were his Grace dragged out again. Mr. Carvel's advent has been -a Godsend to us narrow ignoramuses of this island, gentlemen. To the -Englishmen of our colonies, sirs, and that we may never underrate or -misunderstand them more!" - -"Nay, Charles," cried my Lord Comyn. "Where is our gallantry? I give you -first the Englishwomen of our colonies, and in particular the pride of -Maryland, who has brought back to the old country all the graces of the -new,--Miss Manners." - -His voice was drowned by a deafening shout, and we charged our glasses -to drain them brimming. And then we all went to Drury Lane to see Mrs. -Clive romp through 'The Wonder' in the spirit of the "immortal Peg." She -spoke an epilogue that Mr. Walpole had writ especial for her, and -made some witty and sarcastic remarks directed at the gentlemen in our -stagebox. We topped off a very full day by a supper at the Bedford Arms, -where I must draw the certain. - -The next morning I was abed at an hour which the sobriety of old age -makes me blush abed think of. Banks had just concluded a discreet -discourse upon my accomplishment of the day before, and had left for -my newspapers, when he came running back with the information that Miss -Manners would see my honour that day. There was no note. Between us -we made my toilet in a jiffy, and presently I was walking in at the -Manners's door in an amazing hurry, and scarcely waited for a direction. -But as I ran up the stairs, I heard the tinkle of the spinet, and the -notes of an old, familiar tune fell upon my ears. The words rose in my -head with the cadence. - - "Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song, - Love that is too hot and strong - Runneth soon to waste." - -That simple air, already mellowed by an hundred years, had always been -her favourite. She used to sing it softly to herself as we roamed the -woods and fields of the Eastern Shore. Instinctively I paused at the -dressing-room door. Nay, my dears, you need not cry out, such was the -custom of the times. A dainty bower it was, filled with the perfume of -flowers, and rosy cupids disporting on the ceiling; and china and silver -and gold filigree strewn about, with my tea-cups on the table. The -sunlight fell like a halo round Dorothy's head, her hands strayed over -the keys, and her eyes were far away. She had not heard me. I remember -her dress,--a silk with blue cornflowers on a light ground, and the -flimsiest of lace caps resting on her hair. I thought her face paler; -but beyond that she did not show her illness. - -She looked up, and perceived me, I thought, with a start. "So it is -you!" she said demurely enough; "you are come at last to give an account -of yourself." - -"Are you better, Dorothy?" I asked earnestly. - -"Why should you think that I have been ill?" she replied, her fingers -going back to the spinet. "It is a mistake, sir. Dr. James has given -me near a gross of his infamous powders, and is now exploiting another -cure. I have been resting from the fatigues of London, while you have -been wearing yourself out." - -"Dr. James himself told me your condition was serious," I said. - -"Of course," said she; "the worse the disease, the more remarkable the -cure, the more sought after the physician. When will you get over your -provincial simplicity?" - -I saw there was nothing to be got out of her while in this baffling -humour. I wondered what devil impelled a woman to write one way and talk -another. In her note to me she had confessed her illness. The words -I had formed to say to her were tied on my tongue. But on the whole I -congratulated myself. She knew how to step better than I, and there were -many awkward things between us of late best not spoken of. But she kept -me standing an unconscionable time without a word, which on the whole -was cruelty, while she played over some of Dibdin's ballads. - -"Are you in a hurry, sir," she asked at length, turning on me with -a smile, "are you in a hurry to join my Lord March or his Grace of -Grafton? And have you writ Captain Clapsaddle and your Whig friends at -home of your new intimacies, of Mr. Fox and my Lord Sandwich?" - -I was dumb. - -"Yes, you must be wishing to get away," she continued cruelly, picking -up the newspaper. "I had forgotten this notice. When I saw it this -morning I thought of you, and despaired of a glimpse of you to-day." -(Reading.) "At the Three Hats, Islington, this day, the 10th of May, -will be played a grand match at that ancient and much renowned manly -diversion called Double Stick by a sect of chosen young men at that -exercise from different parts of the West Country, for two guineas given -free; those who break the most heads to bear away the prize. Before the -above-mentioned diversion begins, Mr. Sampson and his young German will -display alternately on one, two, and three horses, various surprising -and curious feats of famous horsemanship in like manner as at the Grand -Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon. Admittance one shilling each person.' -Before you leave, Mr. Richard," she continued, with her eyes still on -the sheet, "I should like to talk over one or two little matters." - -"Dolly--!" - -"Will you sit, sir?" - -I sat down uneasily, expecting the worst. She disappointed me, as usual. - -"What an unspeakable place must you keep in Dover Street! I cannot send -even a footman there but what he comes back reeling." - -I had to laugh at this. But there was no smile out of my lady. - -"It took me near an hour and a half to answer your note," I replied. - -"And 'twas a masterpiece!" exclaimed Dolly, with withering sarcasm; -"oh, a most amazing masterpiece, I'll be bound! His worship the French -Ambassador is a kitten at diplomacy beside you, sir. An hour and a half, -did you say, sir? Gemini, the Secretary of State and his whole corps -could not have composed the like in a day." - -"Faith!" I cried, with feeling enough; "and if that is diplomacy, I -would rather make leather breeches than be given an embassy." - -She fixed her eyes upon me so disconcertingly that mine fell. - -"There was a time," she said, with a change of tone, "there was a time -when a request of mine, and it were not granted outright, would have -received some attention. This is my first experience at being ignored." - -"I had made a wager," said I, "and could not retract with honour." - -"So you had made a wager! Now we are to have some news at last. How -stupid of you, Richard, not to tell me before. I confess I wonder what -these wits find in your company. Here am I who have seen naught but dull -women for a fortnight, and you have failed to say anything amusing in a -quarter of an hour. Let us hear about the wager." - -"Where is little to tell," I answered shortly, considerably piqued. "I -bet your friend, the Duke of Chartersea, some hundreds of pounds I could -ride Lord Baltimore's Pollux for twenty minutes, after which his Grace -was to get on and ride twenty more." - -"Where did you see the duke?" Dolly interrupted, without much show of -interest. - -I explained how we had met him at Brooks's, and had gone to his house. - -"You went to his house?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows a trifle; -"and Comyn and Mr. Fox? And pray, how did this pretty subject come up?" - -I related, very badly, I fear, Fox's story of young Wrottlesey and the -tea-merchant's daughter. And what does my lady do but get up and turn -her back, arranging some pinks in the window. I could have sworn she was -laughing, had I not known better. - -"Well?" - -"Well, that was a reference to a little pleasantry Mr. Fox had put up -on him some time before. His Grace flared, but tried not to show it. He -said he had heard I could do something with a horse (I believe he made -it up), and Comyn gave oath that I could; and then he offered to bet -Comyn that I could not ride this Pollux, who had killed his groom. -That made me angry, and I told the duke I was no jockey to be put up to -decide wagers, and that he must make his offers to me." - -"La!" said Dolly, "you fell in head over heels." - -"What do you mean by that?" I demanded. - -"Nothing," said she, biting her lip. "Come, you are as ponderous as Dr. -Johnson." - -"Then Mr. Fox proposed that his Grace should ride after me." - -Here Dolly laughed in her handkerchief. - -"I'll be bound," said she. - -"Then the duke went to York," I continued hurriedly; and when he came -back we met him at the Star and Garter. He insisted that the match -should come off in Hyde Park. I should have preferred the open roads -north of Bedford House." - -"Where there is no Serpentine," she interrupted, with the faintest -suspicion of a twinkle about her eyes. "On, sir, on! You are as -reluctant as our pump at Wilmot House in the dry season. I see you were -not killed, as you richly deserved. Let us have the rest of your tale." - -"There is very little more to it, save that I contrived to master the -beast, and his Grace--" - -"--Was disgraced. A vastly fine achievement, surely. But where are you -to stop? You will be shaming the King next by outwalking him. Pray, how -did the duke appear as he was going into the Serpentine?" - -"You have heard?" I exclaimed, the trick she had played me dawning upon -me. - -"Upon my word, Richard, you are more of a simpleton than I thought you. -Have you not seen your newspaper this morning?" - -I explained how it was that I had not. She took up the Chronicle. - -"'This Mr. Carvel has made no inconsiderable noise since his arrival -in town, and yesterday crowned his performances by defeating publicly -a noble duke at a riding match in Hyde Park, before half the quality of -the kingdom. His Lordship of March and Ruglen acted as umpire.' There, -sir, was I not right to beg Sir John Fielding to put you in safe keeping -until your grandfather can send for you?" - -I made to seize the paper, but she held it from me. - -"'If Mr. Carvel remains long enough in England, he bids fair to share -the talk of Mayfair with a certain honourable young gentleman of -Brooks's and the Admiralty, whose debts and doings now furnish most -of the gossip for the clubs and the card tables. Their names are both -connected with this contest. 'Tis whispered that the wager upon which -the match was ridden arose--'" here Dolly stopped shortly, her colour -mounting, and cried out with a stamp of her foot. "You are not content -to bring publicity upon yourself, who deserve it, but must needs drag -innocent names into the newspapers." - -"What have they said?" I demanded, ready to roll every printer in London -in the kennel. - -"Nay, you may read for yourself," said she. And, flinging the paper in -my lap, left the room. - -They had not said much more, Heaven be praised. But I was angry and -mortified as I had never been before, realizing for the first time -what a botch I had made of my stay in London. In great dejection, I was -picking up my hat to leave the house, when Mrs. Manners came in upon -me, and insisted that I should stay for dinner. She was very white, and -seemed troubled and preoccupied, and said that Mr. Manners had come back -from York with a cold on his chest, but would insist upon joining the -party to Vauxhall on Monday. I asked her when she was going to the -baths, and suggested that the change would do her good. Indeed, she -looked badly. - -"We are not going, Richard," she replied; "Dorothy will not hear of -it. In spite of the doctor she says she is not ill, and must attend at -Vauxhall, too. You are asked?" - -I said that Mr. Storer had included me. I am sure, from the way she -looked at me, that she did not heed my answer. She appeared to hesitate -on the verge of a speech, and glanced once or twice at the doors. - -"Richard, I suppose you are old enough to take care of yourself, tho' -you seem still a child to me. I pray you will be careful, my boy," she -said, with something of the affection she had always borne me, "for your -grandfather's sake, I pray you will run into no more danger. I--we are -your old friends, and the only ones here to advise you." - -She stopped, seemingly, to weigh the wisdom of what was to come next, -while I leaned forward with an eagerness I could not hide. Was she to -speak of the Duke of Chartersea? Alas, I was not to know. For at that -moment Dorothy came back to inquire why I was not gone to the cudgelling -at the Three Hats. I said I had been invited to stay to dinner. - -"Why, I have writ a note asking Comyn," said she. "Do you think the -house will hold you both?" - -His Lordship came in as we were sitting down, bursting with some news, -and he could hardly wait to congratulate Dolly on her recovery before he -delivered it. - -"Why, Richard," says the dog, "what do you think some wag has done now? -They believe at Brooks's 'twas that jackanapes of a parson, Dr. Warner, -who was there yesterday with March." He drew a clipping from his pocket. -"Listen, Miss Dolly: - - "On Wednesday did a carter see - His Grace, the Duke of Ch-rt--s-a, - As plump and helpless as a bag, - A-straddle of a big-boned nag. - "Lord, Sam!" the carter loudly yelled, - On by this wondrous sight impelled, - "We'll run and watch this noble gander - Master a steed, like Alexander." - But, when the carter reached the Row, - His Grace had left it, long ago. - Bucephalus had leaped the green, - The duke was in the Serpentine. - The fervent wish of all good men - That he may ne'er come out again!'" - -Comyn's impudence took my breath, tho' the experiment interested me not -a little. My lady was pleased to laugh at the doggerel, and even Mrs. -Manners. Its effect upon Mr. Marmaduke was not so spontaneous. His smile -was half-hearted. Indeed, the little gentleman seemed to have lost his -spirits, and said so little (for him), that I was encouraged to corner -him that very evening and force him to a confession. But I might have -known he was not to be caught. It appeared almost as if he guessed my -purpose, for as soon as ever the claret was come on, he excused himself, -saying he was promised to Lady Harrington, who wanted one. - -Comyn and I departed early on account of Dorothy. She had denied a dozen -who had left cards upon her. - -"Egad, Richard," said my Lord, when we had got to my lodgings, "I made -him change colour, did I not? Do you know how the little fool looks to -me? 'Od's life, he looks hunted, and cursed near brought to earth. -We must fetch this thing to a point, Richard. And I am wondering what -Chartersea's next move will be," he added thoughtfully. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. HOLLAND HOUSE - -On the morrow, as I was setting out to dine at Brooks's, I received the -following on a torn slip of paper: "Dear Richard, we shall have a good -show to-day you may care to see." It was signed "Fox," and dated at -St. Stephen's. I lost no time in riding to Westminster, where I found a -flock of excited people in Parliament Street and in the Palace Yard. And -on climbing the wide stone steps outside and a narrower flight within I -was admitted directly into the august presence of the representatives of -the English people. They were in a most prodigious and unseemly state of -uproar. - -What a place is old St. Stephen's Chapel, over St. Mary's in the Vaults, -for the great Commons of England to gather! It is scarce larger or more -imposing than our own assembly room in the Stadt House in Annapolis. -St. Stephen's measures but ten yards by thirty, with a narrow gallery -running along each side for visitors. In one of these, by the rail, I -sat down suffocated, bewildered, and deafened. And my first impression -out of the confusion was of the bewigged speaker enthroned under the -royal arms, sore put to restore order. On the table in front of him lay -the great mace of the Restoration. Three chandeliers threw down their -light upon the mob of honourable members, and I wondered what had put -them into this state of uproar. - -Presently, with the help of a kind stranger on my right, who was -occasionally making shorthand notes, I got a few bearings. That was the -Treasury Bench, where Lord North sat (he was wide awake, now). And there -was the Government side. He pointed out Barrington and Weymouth and -Jerry Dyson and Sandwich, and Rigby in the court suit of purple velvet -with the sword thrust through the pocket. I took them all in, as some of -the worst enemies my country had in Britain. Then my informant seemed -to hesitate, and made bold to ask my persuasion. When I told him I was a -Whig, and an American, he begged the favour of my hand. - -"There, sir," he cried excitedly, "that stout young gentleman with the -black face and eyebrows, and the blacker heart, I may say,--the one -dressed in the fantastical costume called by a French name,--is Mr. -Charles Fox. He has been sent by the devil himself, I believe, to ruin -this country. 'Ods, sir, that devil Lord Holland begot him. He is but -one and twenty, but his detestable arts have saved North's neck from -Burke and Wedderburn on two occasions this year." - -"And what has happened to-day?" I asked, smiling. - -The stranger smiled, too. - -"Why, sir," he answered, raising his voice above the noise; "if you have -been in London any length of time, you will have read the account, with -comment, of the Duke of Grafton's speech in the Lords, signed Domitian. -Their Lordships well know it should have been over a greater signature. -This afternoon his Grace of Manchester was talking in the Upper House -about the Spanish troubles, when Lord Gower arose and desired that the -place might be cleared of strangers, lest some Castilian spy might lurk -under the gallery. That was directed against us of the press, sir, and -their Lordships knew it. 'Ad's heart, sir, there was a riot, the house -servants tumbling everybody out, and Mr. Burke and Mr. Dunning in the -boot, who were gone there on the business of this house to present a -bill. Those gentlemen are but just back, calling upon the commons -to revenge them and vindicate their honour. And my Lord North looks -troubled, as you will mark, for the matter is like to go hard against -his Majesty's friends. But hush, Mr. Burke is to speak." - -The horse fell quiet to listen, and my friend began to ply his shorthand -industriously. I leaned forward with a sharp curiosity to see this great -friend of America. He was dressed in a well-worn suit of brown, and -I recall a decided Irish face, and a more decided Irish accent, which -presently I forgot under the spell of his eloquence. I have heard it -said he had many defects of delivery. He had none that day, or else I -was too little experienced to note them. Afire with indignation, he told -how the deputy black rod had hustled him like a vagabond or a thief, and -he called the House of Lords a bear garden. He was followed by Dunning, -in a still more inflammatory mood, until it seemed as if all the King's -friends in the Lower House must desert their confederates in the -Upper. No less important a retainer than Mr. Onslow moved a policy of -retaliation, and those that were left began to act like the Egyptians -when they felt the Red Sea under them. They nodded and whispered in -their consternation. - -It was then that Mr. Fox got calmly up before the pack of frightened -mercenaries and argued (God save the mark!) for moderation. He had the -ear of the house in a second, and he spoke with all the confidence--this -youngster who had just reached his majority--he had used with me before -his intimates. I gaped with astonishment and admiration. The Lords, said -he, had plainly meant no insult to this honourable house, nor yet to -the honourable members. They had aimed at the common enemies of man, the -printers. And for this their heat was more than pardonable. My friend at -my side stopped his writing to swear under his breath. "Look at 'em!" -he cried; "they are turning already. He could argue Swedenborg into -popery!" - -The deserters were coming back to the ranks, indeed, and North and Dyson -and Weymouth had ceased to look haggard, and were wreathed in smiles. In -vain did Mr. Burke harangue them in polished phrase. It was a language -North and Company did not understand, and cared not to learn. Their -young champion spoke the more worldly and cynical tongue of White's and -Brooks's, with its shorter sentences and absence of formality. And even -as the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose, Mr. Fox quoted history -and the classics, with plenty more that was not above the heads of the -booted and spurred country squires. And thus, for the third time, he -earned the gratitude of his gracious Majesty. - -"Well, Richard," said he, slipping his arm through mine as we came out -into Parliament Street, "I promised you some sport. Have you enjoyed -it?" - -I was forced to admit that I had. - -"Let us to the 'Thatched House,' and have supper privately," he -suggested. "I do not feel like a company to-night." We walked on for -some time in silence. Presently he said: - -"You must not leave us, Richard. You may go home to see your grandfather -die, and when you come back I will see about getting you a little -borough for what my father paid for mine. And you shall marry Dorothy, -and perchance return in ten years as governor of a principality. That -is, after we've ruined you at the club. How does that prospect sit?" - -I wondered at the mood he was in, that made him choose me rather than -the adulation and applause he was sure to receive at Brooks's for the -part he had played that night. After we had satisfied our hunger,--for -neither of us had dined,--and poured out a bottle of claret, he looked -up at me quizzically. - -"I have not heard you congratulate me," he said. - -"Nor will you," I replied, laughing. - -"I like you the better for it, Richard. 'Twas a damned poor performance, -and that's truth." - -"I thought the performance remarkable," I said honestly. - -"Oh, but it was not," he answered scornfully. "The moment that -dun-coloured Irishman gets up, the whole government pack begins to whine -and shiver. There are men I went to school with I fear more than Burke. -But you don't like to see the champion of America come off second best. -Is that what you're thinking?" - -"No. But I was wondering why you have devoted your talents to the -devil," I said, amazed at my boldness. - -He glanced at me, and half laughed again. - -"You are cursed frank," said he; "damned frank." - -"But you invited it." - -"Yes," he replied, "so I did. Give me a man who is honest. Fill up -again," said he; "and spit out all you would like to say, Richard." - -"Then," said I, "why do you waste your time and your breath in defending -a crew of political brigands and placemen, and a king who knows not the -meaning of the word gratitude, and who has no use for a man of ability? -You have honoured me with your friendship, Charles Fox, and I may take -the liberty to add that you seem to love power more than spoils. You -have originality. You are honest enough to think and act upon your own -impulses. And pardon me if I say you have very little chance on that -side of the house where you have put yourself." - -"You seem to have picked up a trifle since you came into England," he -said. "A damned shrewd estimate, I'll be sworn. And for a colonial! But, -as for power," he added a little doggedly, "I have it in plenty, and -the kind I like. The King and North hate and fear me already more than -Wilkes." - -"And with more cause," I replied warmly. "His Majesty perhaps knows -that you understand him better, and foresees the time when a man of your -character will give him cause to fear indeed." - -He did not answer that, but called for a reckoning; and taking my arm -again, we walked out past the sleeping houses. - -"Have you ever thought much of the men we have in the colonies?" I -asked. - -"No," he replied; "Chatham stands for 'em, and I hate Chatham on my -father's account. That is reason enough for me." - -"You should come back to America with me," I said. "And when you had -rested awhile at Carvel Hall, I would ride with you through the length -of the provinces from Massachusetts to North Carolina. You will see -little besides hard-working, self-respecting Englishmen, loyal to a king -who deserves loyalty as little as Louis of France. But with their eyes -open, and despite the course he has taken. They are men whose measure of -resolution is not guessed at." - -He was silent again until we had got into Piccadilly and opposite his -lodgings. - -"Are they all like you?" he demanded. - -"Who?" said I. For I had forgotten my words. - -"The Americans." - -"The greater part feel as I do." - -"I suppose you are for bed," he remarked abruptly. - -"The night is not yet begun," I answered, repeating his favourite words, -and pointing at the glint of the sun on the windows. - -"What do you say to a drive behind those chestnuts of mine, for a breath -of air? I have just got my new cabriolet Selwyn ordered in Paris." - -Soon we were rattling over the stones in Piccadilly, wrapped in -greatcoats, for the morning wind was cold. We saw the Earl of March and -Ruglen getting out of a chair before his house, opposite the Green Park, -and he stopped swearing at the chairmen to wave at us. - -"Hello, March!" Mr. Fox said affably, "you're drunk." - -His Lordship smiled, bowed graciously if unsteadily to me, and did not -appear to resent the pleasantry. Then he sighed. - -"What a pair of cubs it is," said he; "I wish to God I was young again. -I hear you astonished the world again last night, Charles." - -We left him being assisted into his residence by a sleepy footman, paid -our toll at Hyde Park Corner, and rolled onward toward Kensington, -Fox laughing as we passed the empty park at the thought of what had so -lately occurred there. After the close night of St. Stephen's, nature -seemed doubly beautiful. The sun slanted over the water in the gardens -in bars of green and gold. The bright new leaves were on the trees, and -the morning dew had brought with it the smell of the living earth. We -passed the stream of market wagons lumbering along, pulled by sturdy, -patient farm-horses, driven by smocked countrymen, who touched their -caps to the fine gentlemen of the court end of town; who shook their -heads and exchanged deep tones over the whims of quality, unaccountable -as the weather. But one big-chested fellow arrested his salute, a scowl -came over his face, and he shouted back to the wagoner whose horses were -munching his hay: - -"Hi, Jeems, keep down yere hands. Mr. Fox is noo friend of we." - -This brought a hard smile on Mr. Fox's face. - -"I believe, Richard," he said, "I have become more detested than any man -in Parliament." - -"And justly," I replied; "for you have fought all that is good in you." - -"I was mobbed once, in Parliament Street. I thought they would kill me. -Have you ever been mobbed, Richard?" he asked indifferently. - -"Never, I thank Heaven," I answered fervently. - -"I think I would rather be mobbed than indulge in any amusement I know -of," he continued. "Than confound Wedderburn, or drive a measure against -Burke,--which is no bad sport, my word on't. I would rather be mobbed -than have my horse win at Newmarket. There is a keen pleasure you wot -not of, my lad, in listening to Billingsgate and Spitalfields howl -maledictions upon you. And no sensation I know of is equal to that of -the moment when the mud and sticks and oranges are coming through the -windows of your coach, when the dirty weavers are clutching at your -ruffles and shaking their filthy fists under your nose." - -"It is, at any rate, strictly an aristocratic pleasure," I assented, -laughing. - -So we came to Holland House. Its wide fields of sprouting corn, its -woods and pastures and orchards in blossom, were smiling that morning, -as though Leviathan, the town, were not rolling onward to swallow -them. Lord Holland had bought the place from the Warwicks, with all -its associations and memories. The capped towers and quaint facades and -projecting windows were plain to be seen from where we halted in the -shaded park, and to the south was that Kensington Road we had left, over -which all the glory and royalty of England at one time or another had -rolled. Under these majestic oaks and cedars Cromwell and Ireton had -stood while the beaten Royalists lashed their horses on to Brentford. -Nor did I forget that the renowned Addison had lived here after his -unhappy marriage with Lady Warwick, and had often ridden hence to -Button's Coffee House in town, where my grandfather had had his dinner -with Dean Swift. - -We sat gazing at the building, which was bathed in the early sun, at the -deer and sheep grazing in the park, at the changing colours of the young -leaves as the breeze swayed them. The market wagons had almost ceased -now, and there was little to break the stillness. - -"You love the place?" I said. - -He started, as though I had awakened him out of a sleep. And he was no -longer the Fox of the clubs, the cynical, the reckless. He was no longer -the best-dressed man in St. James's Street, or the aggressive youngster -of St. Stephen's. - -"Love it!" he cried. "Ay, Richard, and few guess how well. You will not -laugh when I tell you that my happiest days have been passed here, when -I was but a chit, in the long room where Addison used to walk up and -down composing his Spectators: or trotting after my father through these -woods and gardens. A kinder parent does not breathe than he. Well -I remember how he tossed me in his arms under that tree when I had -thrashed another lad for speaking ill of him. He called me his knight. -In all my life he has never broken faith with me. When they were -blasting down a wall where those palings now stand, he promised me I -should see it done, and had it rebuilt and blown down again because I -had missed the sight. All he ever exacted of me was that I should treat -him as an elder brother. He had his own notion of the world I was going -into, and prepared me accordingly. He took me from Eton to Spa, where I -learned gaming instead of Greek, and gave me so much a night to risk at -play." - -I looked at him in astonishment. To say that I thought these relations -strange would have been a waste of words. - -"To be sure," Charles continued, "I was bound to learn, and could -acquire no younger." He flicked the glossy red backs of his horses with -his whip. "You are thinking it an extraordinary education, I know," he -added rather sadly. "I hav a-told you this--God knows why! Yes, because -I like you damnably, and you would have heard worse elsewhere, both of -him and of me. I fear you have listened to the world's opinion of Lord -Holland." - -Indeed, I had heard a deal of that nobleman's peculations of the public -funds. But in this he was no worse than the bulk of his colleagues. His -desertion of William Pitt I found hard to forgive. - -"The best father in the world, Richard!" cried Charles. "If his former -friends could but look into his kind heart, and see him in his home, -they would not have turned their backs upon him. I do not mean such -scoundrels as Rigby. And now my father is in exile half the year in -Nice, and the other half at King's Gate. The King and Jack Bute used -him for a tool, and then cast him out. You wonder why I am of the King's -party?" said he, with something sinister in his smile; "I will tell you. -When I got my borough I cared not a fig for parties or principles. I -had only the one definite ambition, to revenge Lord Holland. Nay," he -exclaimed, stopping my protest, "I was not too young to know rottenness -as well as another. The times are rotten in England. You may have virtue -in America, amongst a people which is fresh from a struggle with the -earth and its savages. We have cursed little at home, in faith. The -King, with his barley water and rising at six, and shivering in chapel, -and his middle-class table, is rottener than the rest. The money he -saves in his damned beggarly court goes to buy men's souls. His word is -good with none. For my part I prefer a man who is drunk six days out of -the seven to one who takes his pleasure so. And I am not so great a fool -that I cannot distinguish justice from injustice. I know the wrongs of -the colonies, which you yourself have put as clear as I wish to hear, -despite Mr. Burke and his eloquence. - - [My grandfather has made a note here, which in justice should be - added, that he was not deceived by Mr. Fox's partiality.--D. C. C.] - -And perhaps, Richard," he concluded, with a last lingering look at the -old pile as he turned his horses, "perhaps some day, I shall remember -what you told us at Brooks's." - -It was thus, boyishly, that Mr. Fox chose to take me into his -confidence, an honour which I shall remember with a thrill to my dying -day. So did he reveal to me the impulses of his early life, hidden -forever from his detractors. How little does the censure of this world -count, which cannot see the heart behind the embroidered waistcoat! When -Charles Fox began his career he was a thoughtless lad, but steadfast to -such principles as he had formed for himself. They were not many, but, -compared to those of the arena which he entered, they were noble. He -strove to serve his friends, to lift the name of a father from whom he -had received nothing but kindness, however misguided. And when he saw at -length the error of his ways, what a mighty blow did he strike for the -right! - -"Here is a man," said Dr. Johnson, many years afterwards, "who has -divided his kingdom with Caesar; so that it was a doubt whether the -nation should be ruled by the sceptre of George the Third or the tongue -of Fox." - - - - -CHAPTER XL. VAUXHALL - -Matters had come to a pretty pickle indeed. I was openly warned at -Brooks's and elsewhere to beware of the duke, who was said upon various -authority to be sulking in Hanover Square, his rage all the more -dangerous because it was smouldering. I saw Dolly only casually before -the party to Vauxhall. Needless to say, she flew in the face of Dr. -James's authority, and went everywhere. She was at Lady Bunbury's drum, -whither I had gone in another fruitless chase after Mr. Marmaduke. -Dr. Warner's verse was the laughter of the company. And, greatly to my -annoyance,--in the circumstances,--I was made a hero of, and showered -with three times as many invitations as I could accept. - -The whole story got abroad, even to the awakening of the duke in Covent -Garden. And that clownish Mr. Foote, of the Haymarket, had added some -lines to a silly popular song entitled 'The Sights o' Lunnun', with -which I was hailed at Mrs. Betty's fruit-stall in St. James's Street. -Here is one of the verses: - - "In Maryland, he hunts the Fox - From dewy Morn till Day grows dim; - At Home he finds a Paradox, - From Noon till Dawn the Fox hunts him." - -Charles Fox laughed when he heard it. But he was serious when he came to -speak of Chartersea, and bade me look out for assassination. I had Banks -follow me abroad at night with a brace of pistols under his coat, albeit -I feared nothing save that I should not have an opportunity to meet the -duke in a fair fight. And I resolved at all hazards to run Mr. Marmaduke -down with despatch, if I had to waylay him. - -Mr. Storer, who was forever giving parties, was responsible for this -one at Vauxhall. We went in three coaches, and besides Dorothy and Mr. -Marmaduke, the company included Lord and Lady Carlisle, Sir Charles and -Lady Sarah Bunbury, Lady Ossory and Lady Julia Howard, two Miss Stanleys -and Miss Poole, and Comyn, and Hare, and Price, and Fitzpatrick, the -latter feeling very glum over a sum he had dropped that afternoon to -Lord Harrington. Fox had been called to St. Stephen's on more printer's -business. - -Dolly was in glowing pink, as I loved best to see her, and looked -divine. Comyn and I were in Mr. Manners's coach. The evening was -fine and warm, and my lady in very lively spirits. As we rattled over -Westminster Bridge, the music of the Vauxhall band came "throbbing -through the still night," and the sky was bright with the reflection -of the lights. It was the fashion with the quality to go late; and -so eleven o'clock had struck before we had pulled up between Vauxhall -stairs, crowded with watermen and rough mudlarks, and the very -ordinary-looking house which forms the entrance of the great garden. -Leaving the servants outside, single-file we trailed through the dark -passage guarded by the wicketgate. - -"Prepare to be ravished, Richard," said my lady, with fine sarcasm. - -"You were yourself born in the colonies, miss," I retorted. "I confess -to a thrill, and will not pretend that I have seen such sights often -enough to be sated." - -"La!" exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; "I vow this is -refreshing. Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?" - -Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my -enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me. A great -orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides -with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or -swept around in circles. These were filled with people of all sorts and -conditions, supping and making merry. Other people were sauntering under -the trees, keeping step with the music. Lamps of white and blue and red -and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in -stars and crescents upon the buildings. - -"Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin." - - "'O Patty! Soft in feature, - I've been at dear Vauxhall; - No paradise is sweeter, - Not that they Eden call.'" - -whispered Dolly, paraphrasing. - -At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the -brothers, proprietors of the gardens. He was a very lively young fellow -who seemed to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk -about a little before being shown to the boxes reserved for us. - -"They are on the right side, Mr. Tyers?" demanded Mr. Storer. - -"Oh, to be sure, sir. Your man was most particular to stipulate the pink -and blue flowered brocades, next the Prince of Wales's." - -"But you must have the band stop that piece, Mr. Tyers," cried Lady -Sarah. "I declare, it is too much for my nerves. Let them play Dibbin's -Ephesian Matron." - -"As your Ladyship wishes," responded the obliging Mr. Tyers, and sent -off an uniformed warder to the band-master. - -As he led us into the Rotunda, my Lady Dolly, being in one of her -whimsical humours, began to recite in the manner of the guide-book, to -the vast diversion of our party and the honest citizens gaping at us. - -"This, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen," says the minx, "is that -marvellous Rotunda commonly known as the 'umbrella,' where the music -plays on wet nights, and where we have our masquerades and ridottos. -Their Royal Highnesses are very commonly seen here on such occasions. -As you see, it is decorated with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with -gilded festoons. That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth. The -organ in the orchestra cost--you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,--and -the ceiling is at least two hundred feet high. Gentlemen from the -colonies and the country take notice." - -By this time we were surrounded. Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and -crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, -was wholly convulsed. - -"Faith, Miss Manners, and you would consent to do this two nights more, -we should have to open another gate," he declared. Followed by the mob, -which it seems was part of the excitement, he led us out of the building -into the Grand Walk; and offered to turn on the waterfall and mill, -which (so Lady Sarah explained to me) the farmers and merchants fell -down and worshipped every night at nine, to the tinkling of bells. She -told Mr. Tyers there was diversion enough without "tin cascades." When -we got to the Grand Cross Walk he pointed out the black "Wilderness" of -tall elms and cedars looming ahead of us. And--so we came to the -South Walk, with its three triumphal arches framing a noble view of -architecture at the far end. Our gentlemen sauntered ahead, with their -spy-glasses, staring the citizens' pretty daughters out of countenance, -and making cynical remarks. - -"Why, egad!" I heard Sir Charles say, "the wig-makers have no cause to -petition his Majesty for work. I'll be sworn the false hair this good -staymaker has on cost a guinea." - -A remark which caused the staymaker (if such he was) such huge -discomfort that he made off with his wife in the opposite direction, to -the time of jeers and cock-crows from the bevy of Vauxhall bucks walking -abreast. - -"You must show us the famous 'dark walks,' Mr. Tyers," says Dorothy. - -"Surely you will not care to see those, Miss Manners." - -"O lud, of course you must," chimed in the Miss Stanleys; "there is no -spice in these flaps and flies." - -He led us accordingly into Druid's Walk, overarched with elms, and dark -as the shades, our gentlemen singing, "'Ods! Lovers will contrive,'" in -chorus, the ladies exclaiming and drawing together. Then I felt a soft, -restraining hold on my arm, and fell back instinctively, vibrating to -the touch. - -"Could you not see that I have been trying to get a word with you for -ever so long?" - -"I trust you to find a way, Dolly, if you but wish," I replied, admiring -her stratagem. - -"I am serious to-night." Indeed, her voice betrayed as much. How well -I recall those rich and low tones! "I said I wished you shut up in the -Marshalsea, and I meant it. I have been worrying about you." - -"You make me very happy," said I; which was no lie. - -"Richard, you are every bit as reckless and indifferent of danger as -they say your father was. And I am afraid--" - -"Of what?" I asked quickly. - -"You once mentioned a name to me--" - -"Yes?" I was breathing deep. - -"I have forgiven you," she said gently. "I never meant to have referred -to that incident more. You will understand whom I mean. You must know -that he is a dangerous man, and a treacherous. Oh!" she exclaimed, "I -have been in hourly terror ever since you rode against him in Hyde Park. -There! I have said it." - -The tense sweetness of that moment none will ever know. - -"But you have more reason to fear him than I, Dorothy." - -"Hush!" she whispered, catching her breath; "what are you saying?" - -"That he has more cause to fear me than I to dread him." - -She came a little closer. - -"You stayed in London for me, Richard. Why did you? There was no need," -she exclaimed; "there was no need, do you hear? Oh, I shall never -forgive Comyn for his meddling! I am sure 'twas he who told you some -ridiculous story. He had no foundation for it." - -"Dorothy," I demanded, my voice shaking with earnestness, "will you -tell me honestly there is no foundation for the report that the duke is -intriguing to marry you?" - -That question was not answered, and regret came the instant it had left -my lips--regret and conviction both. Dorothy joined Lady Carlisle before -our absence had been noted, and began to banter Fitzpatrick upon his -losings. - -We were in the lighted Grove again, and sitting down to a supper of -Vauxhall fare: transparent slices of ham (which had been a Vauxhall joke -for ages), and chickens and cheese cakes and champagne and claret, -and arrack punch. Mr. Tyers extended the concert in our favour. Mrs. -Weichsell and the beautiful Baddeley trilled sentimental ballads which -our ladies chose; and Mr. Vernon, the celebrated tenor, sang Cupid's -Recruiting Sergeant so happily that Storer sent him a bottle of -champagne. After which we amused ourselves with catches until the space -between our boxes and the orchestra was filled. In the midst of this -Comyn came quietly in from the other box and took a seat beside me. - -"Chartersea is here to-night," said he. - -I started. "How do you know?" - -"Tyers told me he turned up half an hour since. Tom asked his Grace to -join our party," his Lordship laughed. "Duke said no--he was to be here -only half an hour, and Tom did not push him. He told me as a joke, and -thinks Chartersea came to meet some petite." - -"Any one with him?" I asked. - -"Yes. Tall, dark man, one eye cast,--that's Lewis. They have come on -some dirty work, Richard. Watch little Marmaduke. He has been fidgety as -a cat all night." - -"That's true," said I. Looking up, I caught Dorothy's eyes upon us, -her lips parted, uneasiness and apprehension plain upon her face. Comyn -dropped his voice still lower. - -"I believe she suspects something," he said, rising. "Chartersea is -gone off toward the Wilderness, so Tom says. You must not let little -Marmaduke see him. If Manners gets up to go, I will tune up Black-eked -Susan, and do you follow on some pretext. If you are not back in a -reasonable time, I'll after you." - -He had been gone scant three minutes before I heard his clear voice -singing, "in the Downs", and up I got, with a precipitation far from -politic, and stepped out of the box. Our company stared in surprise. -But Dorothy rose clear from her chair. The terror I saw stamped upon her -face haunts me yet, and I heard her call my name. - -I waited for nothing. Gaining the Grand Walk, I saw Mr. Marmaduke's -insignificant figure dodging fearfully among the roughs, whose hour it -was. He traversed the Cross Walk, and twenty yards farther on dived into -an opening in the high hedge bounding the Wilderness. Before he had made -six paces I had him by the shoulder, and he let out a shriek of fright -like a woman's. - -"It is I, Richard Carvel, Mr. Manners," I said shortly. I could not keep -out the contempt from my tone. "I beg a word with you." - -In his condition then words were impossible. His teeth rattled again, -and he trembled like a hare caught alive. I kept my hold of him, and -employed the time until he should be more composed peering into the -darkness. For all I knew Chartersea might be within ear-shot. But I -could see nothing but black trunks of trees. - -"What is it, Richard?" - -"You are going to meet Chartersea," I said. - -He must have seen the futility of a lie, or else was scared out of all -contrivance. "Yes," he said weakly. - -"You have allowed it to become the talk of London that this filthy -nobleman is blackmailing you for your daughter," I went on, without -wasting words. "Tell me, is it, or is it not, true?" - -As he did not answer, I retained a handful of the grained silk on his -shoulder as a measure of precaution. - -"Is this so?" I repeated. - -"You must know, I suppose," he said, under his breath, and with a note -of sullenness. - -"I must," I said firmly. "The knowledge is the weapon need, for I, too, -am going to meet Chartersea." - -He ceased quivering all at once. - -"You are going to meet him!" he cried, in another voice. "Yes, yes, it -is so,--it is so. I will tell you all." - -"Keep it to yourself, Mr. Manners," I replied, with repugnance, "I have -heard all I wish. Where is he?" I demanded. - -"Hold the path until you come to him. And God bless--" - -I shook my head. - -"No, not that! Do you go back to the company and make some excuse for -me. Do not alarm them. And if you get the chance, tell Lord Comyn where -to come." - -I waited until I saw him under the lights of the Grand Walk, and fairly -running. Then I swung on my heel. I was of two minds whether to wait -for Comyn, by far the wiser course. The unthinking recklessness I had -inherited drove me on. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. THE WILDERNESS - -My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made out -a bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I should -have known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as I -stopped abreast them, and called the duke by name. - -"Mr. Carvel!" he cried; "what the devil do you here, sir?" - -"I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners," I said. "May I speak -to your Grace alone?" - -He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneering -laugh. - -"No," says he, "damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you, -sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. And -he is not the first, Lewis." - -"Nor the last, by G--," says the captain. - -"I have a score to settle with you, d--n you!" cried Chartersea. - -"That is why I am here, your Grace," I replied; "only you have twisted -the words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you," I -cried, boiling with anger, "I have come to tell you there has been foul -play enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put an -end to your blackmail." - -In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. But -I was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face--nay, -boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of the -scabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to distance at the same instant. -Then, with something of a shudder, I remembered young Atwater, and a 380 -brace of other instances of his villany. I looked for the captain. He -was gone. - -Our blades, the duke's and mine, came together with a ring, and I felt -the strength of his wrist behind his, and of his short, powerful arm. -The steel sung with our quick changes from 'quarte' to 'tierce'. 'Twas -all by the feeling, without light to go by, and hatred between us left -little space for skill. Our lunges were furious. 'Twas not long before -I felt his point at my chest, but his reach was scant. All at once -the music swelled up voices and laughter were wafted faintly from -the pleasure world of lights beyond. But my head was filled, to the -exclusion of all else, with a hatred and fury. And (God forgive me!) -from between my teeth came a prayer that if I might kill this monster, I -would die willingly. - -Suddenly, as I pressed him, he shifted ground, and there was Lewis -standing within range of my eye. His hands were nowhere--they were -behind his back! God alone knows why he had not murdered me. To keep -Chartersea between him and me I swung another quarter. The duke seemed -to see my game, struggled against it, tried to rush in under my guard, -made a vicious lunge that would have ended me then and there had he not -slipped. We were both panting like wild beasts. When next I raised my -eyes Lewis had faded into the darkness. Then I felt my head as wet as -from a plunge, the water running on my brow, and my back twitching. -Every second I thought the sting of his sword was between my ribs. But -to forsake the duke would have been the maddest of follies. - -In that moment of agony came footsteps beating on the path, and by tacit -consent our swords were still. We listened. - -"Richard! Richard Carvel!" - -For the second time in my life I thanked Heaven for that brave and loyal -English heart. I called back, but my throat was dry and choked. - -"So they are at their d--d assassins' tricks again! You need have no -fear of one murderer." - -With that their steels rang out behind me, like broadswords, Lewis -wasting his breath in curses and blasphemies. I began to push Chartersea -with all my might, and the wonder of it was that we did not fight with -our fingers on each other's necks. His attacks, too, redoubled. Twice -I felt the stings of his point, once in the hand, and once in the body, -but I minded them as little as pinpricks. I was sure I had touched him, -too. I heard him blowing distressedly. The casks of wine he had drunk -in his short life were telling now, and his thrusts grew weaker. That -fiercest of all joys--of killing an enemy--was in me, when I heard a cry -that rang in my ears for many a year afterward, and the thud of a body -on the ground. - -"I have done for him, your Grace," says Lewis, with an oath; and added -immediately, "I think I hear people." - -Before I had reached my Lord the captain repeated this, and excitedly -begged the duke, I believe, to fly. Chartersea hissed out that he would -not move a step until he had finished me, and as I bent over the body -his point popped through my coat, and the pain shot under my shoulder. I -staggered, and fell. A second of silence ensued, when the duke said with -a laugh that was a cackle: - -"He won't marry her, d--n him!" (panting). "He had me cursed near -killed, Lewis. Best give him another for luck." - -I felt his heavy hand on the sword, and it tearing out of me. Next came -the single word "Dover," and they were gone. I had not lost my senses, -and was on my knees again immediately, ripping open Comyn's waistcoat -with my left hand, and murmuring his name in an agony of sorrow. I was -searching under his shirt, wet with blood, when I became aware of voices -at my side. "A duel! A murder! Call the warders! Warders, ho!" - -"A surgeon!" I cried. "A surgeon first of all!" - -Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickering -in the wind, before his Lordship's face. Guided by its light, more -people came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns, -headed by Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my Lord -Carlisle. We carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed the -doors against the crowd. - -By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardens -that night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with the -constable and the watch. Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charles -washed and dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to our -anxious questions replied that there was a chance of recovery. - -"But you, too, are hurt, sir," he said, turning his clear eyes upon -me. Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during the -whole of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it. By -great good fortune Chartersea's thrust, which he thought had ended my -life, passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodged -deep in my right nipple. This wound the surgeon bound carefully, and -likewise two smaller ones. - -The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea. And so I was forced -to tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, going -out to the scene of the fight, discovered the duke's sword which he -had pulled out of me, and Lewis's laced hat; and also a trail of blood -leading from the spot. Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Chartersea -that night, and Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the duke -bore me. I was given my liberty. - -Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in Sir -Charles's coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him. 'Twas on the way -there that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard the -alarm--a piece of news which added to my anxiety. We called up the -dowager countess, Comyn's mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her, -mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame. Her Ladyship received -the tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent of -reproaches I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home and -care for my injuries lest I get the fever. I believe that I burst into -tears. - -His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan from -his lips, and his heart beating out slowly. - -We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying: "Past two o'clock, -and a windy morning!" - -Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night. And the next morning, save -for the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever. I -was again to thank the robustness of my health. Despite the protests -of Banks and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not having -been to bed at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street. -There I had the good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind. -Comyn was resting so much easier that the surgeon had left, and her -Ladyship retired two hours since. - -The day was misting and dark, but so vast was my relief that I imagined -the sun was out as I rattled toward Arlington Street. If only Dolly were -not ill again from the shock, I should be happy indeed. She must have -heard, ere then, that I was not killed; and I had still better news to -tell her than that of Lord Comyn's condition. Mr. Fox, who got every -rumour that ran, had shouted after me that the duke and Lewis were set -out for France. How he knew I had not waited to inquire. But the report -tallied with my own surmise, for they had used the word "Dover" when -they left us for dead in the Wilderness. - -I dismissed my chaise at the door. - -"Mr. Manners waits on you, sir, in the drawing-room," said the footman. -"Your honour is here sooner than he looked for," he added gratuitously. - -"Sooner than he looked for?" - -"Yes, sir. James is gone to you but quarter of an hour since with a -message, sir." - -I was puzzled. - -"And Miss Manners? Is she well?" - -The man smiled. - -"Very well, sir, thank your honour." - -To add to my surprise, Mr. Marmaduke was pacing the drawing-room in a -yellow night-gown. He met me with an expression I failed to fathom, and -then my eye was held by a letter in his hand. He cleared his throat. - -"Good morning, Richard," said he, very serious,--very pompous, I -thought. "I am pleased to see that you are so well out of the deplorable -affair of last night." - -I had not looked for gratitude. In truth, I had done nothing for him, -and Chartersea might have exposed him a highwayman for all I cared,--I -had fought for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about to -make a tart reply, and then thought better of it. - -"Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel," says he to the footman. -Then to me: "I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger." - -I merely stared at him. - -"Will you sit?" he continued. "To speak truth, the Annapolis packet came -in last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time to -hear from Maryland, I sent for you." - -My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning from -this introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him for -sending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leave -my bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair. - -"You have heard from Maryland?" I cried. "Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tell -me, is Mr. Carvel dead?" And I clutched his arm to make him wince. - -He nodded, and turned away. "My dear old friend is no more," he said. -"Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month." - -I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollections -overwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind. -One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, I -had missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton brought -the tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive his -last words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow. -Who had he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? The -imagination of that scene drove me mad. - -Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quickly -that I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I to -die to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it the -smile which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, there -was in it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act. - -"There is more, Richard," he was saying; "there is worse to come. Can -you bear it?" - -His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short of -temper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And now -all my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined his -meaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father. - -"Worse?" I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. "Do you mean that -Grafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?" - -"Yes," he gasped, "yes. I pray you be calm." - -"And you call that worse than losing my dearest friend on earth?" I -cried. There must have been an infinite scorn in my voice. "Then your -standards and mine are different, Mr. Manners. Your ways and mine are -different, and I thank God for it. You have played more than one double -part with me. You looked me in the face and denied me, and left me to go -to a prison. I shall not repeat my grandfather's kindnesses to you, sir. -Though you may not recall them, I do. And if your treatment of me was -known in Maryland, you would be drummed out of the colony even as Mr. -Hood was, and hung in effigy" - -"As God hears me, Richard--" - -"Do not add perjury to it," I said. "And have no uneasiness that I shall -publish you. Your wife and daughter have saved you before,--they will -save you now." - -I paused, struck speechless by a suspicion that suddenly flashed into my -head. A glance at the contemptible form cowering within the folds of the -flowered gown clinched it to a conviction. In two strides I had seized -him by the skin over his ribs, and he shrieked with pain and fright. - -"You--you snake!" I cried, in uncontrollable anger. "You well knew -Dorothy's spirit, which she has not got from you, and you lied to her. -Yes, lied, I say. To force her to marry Chartersea you made her believe -that your precious honour was in danger. And you lied to me last night, -and sent me in the dark to fight two of the most treacherous villains in -England. You wish they had killed me. The plot was between you and his -Grace. You, who have not a cat's courage, commit an indiscretion! You -never made one in your life, Tell me," I cried, shaking him until his -teeth smote together, "was it not put up between you?" - -"Let me go! Let me go, and I will tell!" he wailed in the agony of my -grip. I tightened it the more. - -"You shall confess it first," I said, from between my teeth. - -Scarce had his lips formed the word yes, when I had flung him half -across the room. He tripped on his gown, and fell sprawling on his -hands. So the servant found us when he came back with the tray. The -lackey went out again hastily. - -"My God!" I exclaimed, in bitterness and disgust; "you are a father, and -would sell both your daughter and your honour for a title, and to the -filthiest wretch in the kingdom?" - -Without bestowing upon him another look, I turned on my heel and left -the room. I had set my foot on the stair, when I heard the rustle of a -dress, and the low voice which I knew so well calling my name. - -"Richard." - -There at my side was Dorothy, even taller in her paleness, with sorrow -and agitation in her blue eyes. - -"Richard, I have heard all.--I listened. Are you going away without a -word for me?" Her breath came fast, and mine, as she laid a hand upon -my arm. "Richard, I do not care whether you are poor. What am I saying?" -she cried wildly. "Am I false to my own father? Richard, what have you -done?" - -And then, while I stood dazed, she tore open her gown, and drawing forth -a little gold locket, pressed it in my palm. "The flowers you gave me -on your birthday,--the lilies of the valley, do you remember? They are -here, Richard. I have worn them upon my heart ever since." - -I raised the locket to my lips. - -"I shall treasure it for your sake, Dorothy," I said, "for the sake of -the old days. God keep you!" - -For a moment I looked into the depths of her eyes. Then she was gone, -and I went down the stairs alone. Outside, the rain fell unheeded on -my new coat. My steps bent southward, past Whitehall, where the martyr -Charles had met death so nobly: past the stairs to the river, where she -had tripped with me so gayly not a month since. Death was in my soul -that day,--death and love, which is the mystery of life. God guided me -into the great Abbey near by, where I fell on my knees before Him and -before England's dead. He had raised them and cast them down, even as He -was casting me, that I might come to know the glory of His holy name. - - - - -Volume 7. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN - -At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with -indignation and fidgety from uneasiness. - -"O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?" he cried. "Your honour's -agent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o' -him, sir?" - -Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair -Dolly had chosen, smoking my tobacco. I stared at him from the -threshold. Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or both -brought him to his feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face. He put -down the pipe guiltily. I told him shortly that I had heard the news -which he must have got by the packet: and that he should have his money, -tho' it took the rest of my life: and the ten per cent I had promised -him provided he would not press my Lord Comyn. He hesitated, and drummed -on the table. He was the man of business again. - -"What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?" he asked. - -"My word," I said. "It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor my -father's before me. And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to say -that of Grafton." Truly I thought the principal and agent were now well -matched. - -"Very good, Mr. Carvel," he said; "ten per cent. I shall call with the -papers on Monday morning." - -"I shall not run away before that," I replied. - -He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customary -protestations of duty and humble offers of service. And I thanked Heaven -he had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not have -borne, but must have laid hands upon him. Perhaps he believed Grafton -not yet secure in his title. I did not wonder then, in the heat of my -youth, that he should have accepted my honour as security. But since I -have marvelled not a little at this. The fine gentlemen at Brooks's -with whom I had been associating were none too scrupulous, and regarded -money-lenders as legitimate prey. Debts of honour they paid but tardily, -if at all. A certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteen -thousand pounds for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won at -hazard. And tho' I blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious in -such matters, and was in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables of -which he was the devoted chief. - -The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would never -desert me. And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow's devotion -brought me no little comfort. At such times the heart is bitter. We look -askance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard for -those that remain true. I had a great affection for the man, and had -become so used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not the -courage to refuse his prayers to go with me to America. I had not a -farthing of my own--he would serve me for nothing--nay, work for me. -"Sure," he said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,--"Sure, -your honour was not made to work." To cheer me he went on with some -foolish footman's gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures who -would marry me, and be thankful. I smiled sadly. - -"That was when I was Mr. Carvel's heir, Banks." - -"And your face and figure, sir, and masterful ways! Faith, and what more -would a lady want!" Banks's notions of morality were vague enough, and -he would have had me sink what I had left at hazard at Almack's. He -had lived in this atmosphere. Alas! there was little chance of my -ever regaining the position I had held but yesterday. I thought of the -sponging-house, and my brow was moist. England was no place, in those -days, for fallen gentlemen. With us in the Colonies the law offered -itself. Mr. Swain, and other barristers of Annapolis, came to my mind, -for God had given me courage. I would try the law. For I had small hopes -of defeating my Uncle Grafton. - -The Sunday morning dawned brightly, and the church bells ringing brought -me to my feet, and out into Piccadilly, in the forlorn hope that I might -see my lady on her way to morning service,--see her for the last time in -life, perhaps. Her locket I wore over my heart. It had lain upon hers. -To see her was the most exquisite agony in the world. But not to see -her, and to feel that she was scarce quarter of a mile away, was beyond -endurance. I stood beside an area at the entrance to Arlington Street, -and waited for an hour, quite in vain; watching every face that passed, -townsmen in their ill-fitting Sunday clothes, and fine ladies with the -footmen carrying velvet prayerbooks. And some that I knew only stared, -and others gave me distant bows from their coach windows. For those that -fall from fashion are dead to fashion. - -Dorothy did not go to church that day. - -It is a pleasure, my dears, when writing of that hour of bitterness, to -record the moments of sweetness which lightened it. As I climbed up to -my rooms in Dover Street, I heard merry sounds above, and a cloud of -smoke blew out of the door when I opened it. - -"Here he is," cried Mr. Fox. "You see, Richard, we have not deserted you -when we can win no more of your money." - -"Why, egad! the man looks as if he had had a calamity," said Mr. -Fitzpatrick. - -"And there is not a Jew here," Fox continued. "Tho' it is Sunday, -the air in my Jerusalem chamber is as bad as in any crimps den in -St. Giles's. 'Slife, and I live to be forty, I shall have as many -underground avenues as his Majesty Louis the Eleventh." - -"He must have a place," put in my Lord Carlisle. - -"We must do something for him," said Fox, "albeit he is an American and -a Whig, and all the rest of the execrations. Thou wilt have to swallow -thy golden opinions, my buckskin, when we put thee in office." - -I was too overwhelmed even to protest. - -"You are not in such a cursed bad way, when all is said, Richard," said -Fitzpatrick. "Charles, when he loses a fortune, immediately borrows -another." - -"If you stick to whist and quinze," said Charles, solemnly, giving me -the advice they were forever thrusting upon him, "and play with system, -you may make as much as four thousand a year, sir." - -And this was how I was treated by those heathen and cynical macaronies, -Mr. Fox's friends. I may not say the same for the whole of Brooks's -Club, tho' I never darkened its doors afterwards. But I encountered my -Lord March that afternoon, and got only a blank stare in place of a bow. - -Charles had collected (Heaven knows how!) the thousand pounds which he -stood in my debt, and Mr. Storer and Lord Carlisle offered to lend me -as much as I chose. I had some difficulty in refusing, and more still in -denying Charles when he pressed me to go with them to Richmond, where he -had rooms for play over Sunday. - -Banks brought me the news that Lord Comyn was sitting up, and had been -asking for me that day; that he was recovering beyond belief. But I was -resolved not to go to Brook Street until the money affairs were settled -on Monday with Mr. Dix, for I knew well that his Lordship would insist -upon carrying out with the agent the contract he had so generously and -hastily made, rather than let me pay an abnormal interest. - -On Monday I rose early, and went out for a bit of air before the scene -with Mr. Dix. Returning, I saw a coach with his Lordship's arms on the -panels, and there was Comyn himself in my great chair at the window, -where he had been deposited by Banks and his footman. I stared as on one -risen from the dead. - -"Why, Jack, what are you doing here?" I cried. - -He replied very offhand, as was his manner at such times: - -"Blicke vows that Chartersea and Lewis have qualified for the College of -Surgeons," says he. "They are both born anatomists. Your job under the -arm was the worst bungle of the two, egad, for Lewis put his sword, pat -as you please, between two of my organs (cursed if I know their names), -and not so much as scratched one." - -"Look you, Jack," said I, "I am not deceived. You have no right to be -here, and you know it." - -"Tush!" answered his Lordship; "I am as well as you." And he took snuff -to prove the assertion. "Why the devil was you not in Brook Street -yesterday to tell me that your uncle had swindled you? I thought I was -your friend," says he, "and I learn of your misfortune through others." - -"It is because you are my friend, and my best friend, that I would not -worry you when you lay next door to death on my account," I said, with -emotion. - -And just then Banks announced Mr. Dix. - -"Let him wait," said I, greatly disturbed. - -"Show him up!" said my Lord, peremptorily. - -"No, no!" I protested; "he can wait. We shall have no business now." - -But Banks was gone. And I found out, long afterward, that it was put up -between them. - -The agent swaggered in with that easy assurance he assumed whenever he -got the upper hand. He was the would-be squire once again, in top-boots -and a frock. I have rarely seen a man put out of countenance so easily -as was Mr. Dix that morning when he met his Lordship's fixed gaze from -the arm-chair. - -"And so you are turned Jew?" says he, tapping his snuffbox. "Before you -go ahead so fast again, you will please to remember, d--n you, that Mr. -Carvel is the kind that does not lose his friends with his fortune." - -Mr. Dix made a salaam, which was so ludicrous in a squire that my Lord -roared with laughter, and I feared for his wound. - -"A man must live, my Lord," sputtered the agent. His discomfiture was -painful. - -"At the expense of another," says Comyn, dryly. "That is your motto in -Change Alley." - -"If you will permit, Jack, I must have a few words in private with Mr. -Dix," I cut in uneasily. - -His Lordship would be damned first. "I am not accustomed to be thwarted, -Richard, I tell you. Ask the dowager if I have not always had my way. I -am not going to stand by and see a man who saved my life fall into the -clutches of an usurer. Yes, I said usurer, Mr. Dix. My attorney, Mr. -Kennett, of Lincoln's Inn, has instructions to settle with you." - -And, despite all I could say, he would not budge an inch. At last I -submitted under the threat that he would never after have a word to say -to me. By good luck, when I had paid into Mr. Dix's hand the thousand -pounds I had received from Charles Fox, and cleared my outstanding -bills, the sum I remained in Comyn's debt was not greatly above seven -hundred pounds. And that was the end of Mr. Dix for me; when he had -backed himself out in chagrin at having lost his ten per centum, my -feelings got the better of me. The water rushed to my eyes, and I -turned my back upon his Lordship. To conceal his own emotions he fell to -swearing like mad. - -"Fox will get you something," he said at length, when he was a little -calmed. - -I told him, sadly, that my duty took me to America. - -"And Dorothy?" he said; "you will leave her?" - -I related the whole miserable story (all save the part of the locket), -for I felt that I owed it him. His excitement grew as he listened, until -I had to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he saw -nothing but good to come of it. - -"'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!" he cried. "Give me your hand. -Why, you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. She -loves you! Did I not say so? And as for that intriguing little puppy, -her father, you have pulled his teeth, egad. She heard what you said to -him, you tell me. Then he will never deceive her again, my word on't. -And Chartersea may come back to London, and be damned." - - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. ANNAPOLIS ONCE MORE - -Three days after that I was at sea, in the Norfolk packet, with the -farewells of my loyal English friends ringing in my ears. Captain -Graham, the master of the packet, and his passengers found me but a poor -companion. But they had heard of my misfortune, and vied with each other -in heaping kindnesses upon me. Nor did they intrude on my walks in the -night watches, to see me slipping a locket from under my waistcoat--ay, -and raising it to my lips. 'Twas no doubt a blessing that I had lesser -misfortunes to share my attention. God had put me in the way of looking -forward rather than behind, and I was sure that my friends in Annapolis -would help me to an honest living, and fight my cause against Grafton. - -Banks was with me. The devoted soul did his best to cheer me, tho' -downcast himself at leaving England. To know what to do with him gave -me many an anxious moment. I doubted not that I could get him into -a service, but when I spoke of such a thing he burst into tears, and -demanded whether I meant to throw him off. Nor was any argument of mine -of use. - -After a fair and uneventful voyage of six weeks, I beheld again my -native shores in the low spits of the Virginia capes. The sand was very -hot and white, and the waters of the Chesapeake rolled like oil under -the July sun. We were all day getting over to Yorktown, the ship's -destination. A schooner was sailing for Annapolis early the next -morning, and I barely had time to get off my baggage and catch her. We -went up the bay with a fresh wind astern, which died down at night. - -The heat was terrific after England and the sea-voyage, and we slept on -the deck. And Banks sat, most of the day, exclaiming at the vast scale -on which this new country was laid out, and wondering at the myriad -islands we passed, some of them fair with grain and tobacco; and at the -low-lying shores clothed with forests, and broken by the salt marshes, -with now and then the manor-house of some gentleman-planter visible on -either side. Late on the second day I beheld again the cliffs that mark -the mouth of the Severn, then the sail-dotted roads and the roofs of -Annapolis. - -We landed, Banks and I, in a pinnace from the schooner, and so full was -my heart at the sight of the old objects that I could only gulp now and -then, and utter never a word. There was the dock where I had paced up -and down near the whole night, when Dolly had sailed away; and Pryse the -coachmaker's shop, and the little balcony upon which I had stood with -my grandfather, and railed in a boyish tenor at Mr. Hood. The sun cast -sharp, black shadows. And it being the middle of the dull season, when -the quality were at their seats, and the dinner-hour besides, the -town might have been a deserted one for its stillness, as tho' the -inhabitants had walked out of it, and left it so. I made my way, Banks -behind me, into Church Street, past the "Ship" tavern, which brought -memories of the brawl there, and of Captain Clapsaddle forcing the -mob, like chaff, before his sword. The bees were humming idly over the -sweet-scented gardens, and Farris, the clock-maker, sat at his door, and -nodded. He jerked his head as I went by with a cry of "Lord, it is Mr. -Richard back!" and I must needs pause, to let him bow over my hand. -Farther up the street I came to mine host of the Coffee House standing -on his steps, with his hands behind his back. - -"Mr. Claude," I said. - -He looked at me as tho' I had risen from the dead. - -"God save us!" he shouted, in a voice that echoed through the narrow -street. "God save us!" - -He seemed to go all to pieces. To my bated questions he replied at -length, when he had got his breath, that Captain Clapsaddle had come -to town but the day before, and was even then in the coffee-room at his -dinner. Alone? Yes, alone. Almost tottering, I mounted the steps, and -turned in at the coffee-room door, and stopped. There sat the captain at -a table, the roast and wine untouched before him, his waistcoat thrown -open. He was staring out of the open window into the inn garden beyond, -with its shade of cherry trees. Mr. Claude's cry had not disturbed his -reveries, nor our talk after it. I went forward. I touched him on the -shoulder, and he sprang up, and looked once into my face, and by some -trick of the mind uttered the very words Mr. Claude had used. - -"God save us! Richard!" And he opened his arms and strained me to his -great chest, calling my name again and again, while the tears coursed -down the furrows of his cheeks. For I marked the furrows for the first -time, and the wrinkles settling in his forehead and around his eyes. -What he said when he released me, nor my replies, can I remember now, -but at last he called, in his ringing voice, to mine host: - -"A bottle from your choicest bin, Claude! Some of Mr. Bordley's. For he -that was lost is found." - -The hundred questions I had longed to ask were forgotten. A peace stole -upon me that I had not felt since I had looked upon his face before. -The wine was brought by Mr. Claude, and opened, and it was mine host who -broke the silence, and the spell. - -"Your very good health, Mr. Richard," he said; "and may you come to your -own again!" - -"I drink it with all my heart, Richard," replied Captain Daniel. But he -glanced at me sadly, and his honest nature could put no hope into his -tone. "We have got him back again, Mr. Claude. And God has answered our -prayers. So let us be thankful." And he sat down in silence, gazing at -me in pity and tenderness, while Mr. Claude withdrew. "I can give you -but a sad welcome home, my lad," he said presently, with a hesitation -strange to him. "'Tis not the first bad news I have had to break in my -life to your family, but I pray it may be the last." He paused. I knew -he was thinking of the black tidings he had once brought my mother. -"Richard, your grandfather is dead," he ended abruptly. - -I nodded wonderingly. - -"What!" he exclaimed; "you have heard already?" - -"Mr. Manners told me, in London," I said, completely mystified. - -"London!" he cried, starting forward. "London and Mr. Manners! Have you -been to London?" - -"You had my letters to Mr. Carvel?" I demanded, turning suddenly sick. - -His eye flashed. - -"Never a letter. We mourned you for dead, Richard. This is Grafton's -work!" he cried, springing to his feet and striking the table with his -great fist, so that the dishes jumped. "Grafton Carvel, the prettiest -villain in these thirteen colonies! Oh, we shall hang him some day." - -"Then Mr. Carvel died without knowing that I was safe?" I interrupted. - -"On that I'll lay all my worldly goods," replied Captain Daniel, -emphatically. "If any letters came to Marlboro' Street from you, Mr. -Carvel never dropped eyes on 'em." - -"What a fool was I not to have written you!" I groaned. - -He drew his chair around the table, and close to mine. - -"Had the news that you escaped death been cried aloud in the streets, -my lad, 'twould never have got to your grandfather's ear," he said, in -lower tones. "I will tell you what happened, tho' I have it at second -hand, being in the North, as you may remember. Grafton came in from Kent -and invested Marlboro' Street. He himself broke the news to Mr. Carvel, -who took to his bed. Leiden was not in attendance, you may be sure, but -that quack-doctor Drake. Swain sent me a message, and I killed a horse -getting here from New York. But I could no more gain admittance to your -grandfather, Richard, than to King George the Third. I was met in the -hall by that crocodile, who told me with too many fair words that I -could not see my old friend; that for the present Dr. Drake denied him -everybody. Then I damned Dr. Drake, and Grafton too. And I let him know -my suspicions. He ordered me off, Richard--from that house which has -been my only home for these twenty years." His voice broke. - -"Mr. Carvel thought me dead, then." - -"And most mercifully. Your black Hugo, when he was somewhat recovered, -swore he had seen you killed and carried off. Sooth, they say there was -blood enough on the place. But we spared no pains to obtain a clew of -you. I went north to Boston, and Lloyd's factor south to Charleston. But -no trace of the messenger who came to the Coffee House after you could -we find. Hell had opened and swallowed him. And mark this for consummate -villany: Grafton himself spent no less than five hundred pounds in -advertising and the like." - -"And he is not suspected?" I asked. This was the same question I had put -to Mrs. Manners. It caused the captain to flare up again. - -"'Tis incredible how a rogue may impose upon men of worth and integrity -if he but know how to smirk piously, and never miss a service. And then -he is an exceeding rich man. Riches cover a multitude of sins in the -most virtuous community in the world. Your Aunt Caroline brought him -a pretty fortune, you know. We had ominous times this spring, with the -associations forming, and the 'Good Intent' and the rest being sent -back to England. His Excellency was at his wits' end for support. It was -Grafton Carvel who helped him most, and spent money like tobacco for the -King's cause, which, being interpreted, was for his own advancement. But -I believe Colonel Lloyd suspects him, tho' he has never said as much to -me. I have told Mr. Swain, under secrecy, what I think. He is one of -the ablest lawyers that the colony owns, Richard, and a stanch friend -of yours. He took your case of his own accord. But he says we have no -foothold as yet." - -When I asked if there was a will the captain rapped out an oath. - -"'Sdeath! yes," he cried, "a will in favour of Grafton and his heirs, -witnessed by Dr. Drake, they say, and another scoundrel. Your name does -not occur throughout the length and breadth of it. You were dead. But -you will have to ask Mr. Swain for those particulars. My dear old friend -was sadly gone when he wrote it, I fear. For he never lacked shrewdness -in his best days. Nor," added Captain Daniel, with force, "nor did he -want for a proper estimation of Grafton." - -"He has never been the same since that first sickness," I answered -sadly. - -When the captain came to speak of Mr. Carvel's death, the son and -daughter he loved, and the child of his old age in the grave before -him, he proceeded brokenly, and the tears blinded him. Mr. Carvel's last -words will never be known, my dears. They sounded in the unfeeling ears -of the serpent Grafton. 'Twas said that he was seen coming out of his -father's house an hour after the demise, a smile on his face which he -strove to hide with a pucker of sorrow. But by God's grace Mr. Allen had -not read the prayers. The rector was at last removed from Annapolis, and -had obtained the fat living of Frederick which he coveted. - -"As I hope for salvation," the captain concluded, "I will swear there is -not such another villain in the world as Grafton. The imagination of a -fiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime he -has committed. And the Borgias were children to him. 'Twas not only the -love of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father. That -was his strongest motive, I believe. However, the days are coming, lad, -when he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail. And we have had -enough of sober talk," said he, pressing me to eat. "Faith, but just -now, when you came in, I was thinking of you, Richard. And--God forgive -me! complaining against the lot of my life. And thinking, now that you -were taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone, -how little I had to live for. Now you are home again," says he, his eyes -lighting on me with affection, "I count the gray hairs as nothing. Let -us have your story, and be merry. Nay, I might have guessed you had been -in London, with your fine clothes and your English servant." - -'Twas a long story, as you know, my dears. He lighted his pipe and laid -his big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of that -which had happened to me. But I left out the whole of that concerning -Mr. Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of the -sponging-house. I believe my only motive for this omittance was a -reluctance to dwell upon Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father for -her sake. He dropped many a vigorous exclamation into my pauses, but -when I came to speak of my friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow clouded -over. - -"'Ad's heart!" he cried, "'Ad's heart! And so you are turned Tory, and -have at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved you -most. In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you, -Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice." - -I laughed aloud. - -"And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton, -and Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship's seat?" -said I. - -His honest face was a picture of consternation. - -"Now the good Lord deliver us!" he exclaimed fervently. "Sandwich! -Grafton! The devil!" - -I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I had -heard of Mr. Carvel's death. - -"And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune," I went on, "he -offered me a position under Government." - -"Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?" he said, -his face getting purple. "Are you Jack Carvel's son, or are you an -impostor?" - -"I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am -here," I replied. "I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might -have converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently -long," I added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, I -related how I had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat he -gave a great, joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back. - -"You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!" And he called to Mr. Claude for -another bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association. -He peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. -Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? "I would not doubt -a Carvel's word," says the captain, "(always excepting Grafton and his -line, as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend why -Mr. Fox and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion as -you--and after the speech you made 'em." - -I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friends -cared a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my frankness -had entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste for -a bit of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant, -easy nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set, -without aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between the -shoulders. - -"It was so with Jack," he cried; "thou art a replica. He would have made -friends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest of -us Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out of -England, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight with -Jack, tho' he gave them ample provocation. There was Tetherington, -of the 22d foot,--who jeered us for damned provincials, and swaggered -through three duels in a week,--would enter no quarrel with him. I can -hear him say: 'Damn you, Carvel, you may slap my face and you will, or -walk in ahead of me at the general's dinner and you will, but I like you -too well to draw at you. I would not miss your company at table for all -the world.' And when he was killed," Captain Daniel continued, lowering -his voice, "some of them cried like women, Tetherington among 'em,--and -swore they would rather have lost their commissions at high play." - -We sat talking until the summer's dusk grew on apace, and one thing this -devoted lover of my family told me, which lightened my spirits of the -greatest burden that had rested upon them since my calamity befell me. -I had dwelt at length upon my Lord Comyn, and upon the weight of his -services to me, and touched upon the sum which I stood in his debt. The -captain interrupted me. - -"One day, before your mother died, she sent for me," said he, "and -I came to Carvel Hall. You were too young to remember. It was in -September, and she was sitting on the seat under the oak she loved so -well,--by Dr. Hilliard's study. - -"The lace shawl your father had given her was around her shoulders, -and upon her face was the smile that gave me a pang to see. For it had -something of heaven in it, Richard. She called me 'Daniel' then for the -second time in her life. She bade me be seated beside her. 'Daniel,' she -said, 'when I am gone, and father is gone, it is you who will take care -of Richard. I sometimes believe all may not be well then, and that he -will need you.' I knew she was thinking of Grafton," said the captain. -"'I have a little money of my own, Daniel, which I have saved lately -with this in view. I give it into your charge, and if trouble comes to -him, my old friend, you will use it as you see fit.' - -"It was a bit under a thousand pounds, Richard. And when she died I put -it out under Mr. Carroll's direction at safe interest. So that you -have enough to discharge your debt, and something saved against another -emergency." - -He fell silent, sunk into one of those reveries which the memory of my -mother awoke in him. My own thoughts drifted across the sea. I was again -at the top of the stairs in Arlington Street, and feeling the dearest -presence in the world. The pale oval of Dorothy's face rose before me -and the troubled depths of her blue eyes. And I heard once more the -tremble in her voice as she confessed, in words of which she took no -heed, that love for which I had sought in vain. - -The summer dusk was gathering. Outside, under the cherry trees, I -saw Banks holding forth to an admiring circle of negro 'ostlers. And -presently Mr. Claude came in to say that Shaw, the town carpenter, and -Sol Mogg, the ancient sexton of St. Anne's, and several more of my old -acquaintances were without, and begged the honour of greeting me. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. NOBLESSE OBLIGE - -I lay that night in Captain Clapsaddle's lodgings opposite, and slept -soundly. Banks was on hand in the morning to assist at my toilet, and -was greatly downcast when I refused him this privilege, for the first -time. Captain Daniel was highly pleased with the honest fellow's -devotion in following me to America. To cheer him he began to question -him as to my doings in London, and the first thing of which Banks must -tell was of the riding-contest in Hyde Park, which I had omitted. It is -easy to imagine how this should have tickled the captain, who always had -my horsemanship at heart; and when it came to Chartersea's descent into -the Serpentine, I thought he would go into apoplexy. For he had put on -flesh with the years. - -The news of my return had spread all over town, so that I had a deal -more handshaking to do when we went to the Coffee House for breakfast. -All the quality were in the country, of course, save only four gentlemen -of the local Patriots' committee, of which Captain Daniel was a member, -and with whom he had an appointment at ten. It was Mr. Swain who arrived -first of the four. - -This old friend of my childhood was a quiet man (I may not have -specified), thin, and a little under stature, with a receding but -thoughtful forehead. But he could express as much of joy and welcome in -his face and manner as could Captain Daniel with his heartier ways. - -"It does me good to see you, lad," he said, pressing my hand. "I heard -you were home, and sent off an express to Patty and the mother last -night." - -"And are they not here?" I asked, with disappointment. - -Mr. Swain smiled. - -"I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little -plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton's. It will be my ruin," he -added. "A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions." - -"A little plantation!" echoed the captain. "'Od's life, he has bought -one of his Lordship's own manors--as good an estate as there is in the -province." - -"You overdo it, Daniel," said he, reprovingly. - -At that moment there was a stir in the doorway, and in came Mr. Carroll, -the barrister, and Mr. Bordley and Colonel Lloyd. These gentlemen gave -me such a welcome as those warm-hearted planters and lawyers knew how to -bestow. - -"What, he!" cried Mr. Lloyd, "I'm stamped and taxed if it isn't young -Richard Carvel himself. Well," says he, "I know one who will sleep -easier o' nights now,--one Clapsaddle. The gray hairs are forgot, -Daniel. We had more to-do over your disappearance than when Mr. -Worthington lost his musical nigger. Where a deuce have you been, sir?" - -"He shall tell us when we come back," said Mr. Bordley. "He has brought -our worthy association to a standstill once, and now we must proceed -about our business. Will you come, Richard? I believe you have proved -yourself a sufficiently good patriot, and in this very house." - -We went down Church Street, I walking behind with Colonel Lloyd, and so -proud to be in such company that I cared not a groat whether Grafton -had my acres or not. I remembered that the committee all wore plain and -sober clothes, and carried no swords. Mr. Swain alone had a wig. I had -been away but seven months, and yet here was a perceptible change. In -these dignified and determined gentlemen England had more to fear than -in all the mobs at Mr. Wilkes's back. How I wished that Charles Fox -might have been with me. - -The sun beat down upon the street. The shopkeepers were gathered at -their doors, but their chattering was hushed as the dreaded committee -passed. More than one, apparently, had tasted of its discipline. Colonel -Lloyd whispered to me to keep my countenance, that they were not -after very large game that morning,--only Chipchase, the butcher. -And presently we came upon the rascal putting up his shutters in much -precipitation, although it was noon. He had shed his blood-stained smock -and breeches, and donned his Sunday best,--a white, thick-set coat, -country cloth jacket, blue broadcloth breeches, and white shirt. A -grizzled cut wig sat somewhat awry under his bearskin hat. When he -perceived Mr. Carroll at his shoulder, he dropped his shutter against -the wall, and began bowing frantically. - -"You keep good hours, Master Chipchase," remarked Colonel Lloyd. - -"And lose good customers," Mr. Swain added laconically. - -The butcher wriggled. - -"Your honours must know there be little selling when the gentry be -out of town. And I was to take a holiday to-day, to see my daughter -married." - -"You will have a feast, my good man?" Captain Daniel asked. - -"To be sure, your honour, a feast." - -"And any little ewe-lambs?" says Mr. Bordley, very innocent. - -Master Chipchase turned the colour of his meat, and his wit failed him. - -"'Fourthly,'" recited Mr. Carroll, with an exceeding sober face, -"'Fourthly, that we will not kill, or suffer to be killed, or sell, or -dispose to any person whom we have reason to believe intends to kill, -any ewe-lamb that shall be weaned before the first day of May, in any -year during the time aforesaid.' Have you ever heard anything of that -sound, Mr. Chipchase?" - -Mr. Chipchase had. And if their honours pleased, he had a defence to -make, if their honours would but listen. And if their honours but knew, -he was as good a patriot as any in the province, and sold his wool to -Peter Psalter, and he wore the homespun in winter. Then Mr. Carroll -drew a paper from his pocket, and began to read: "Mr. Thomas Hincks, -personally known to me, deposeth and saith,--" - -Master Chipchase's knees gave from under him. - -"And your honours please," he cried piteously, "I killed the lamb, -but 'twas at Mr. Grafton Carvel's order, who was in town with his -Excellency." (Here Mr. Swain and the captain glanced significantly at -me.) "And I lose Mr. Carvel's custom, there is twelve pounds odd gone a -year, your honours. And I am a poor man, sirs." - -"Who is it owns your shop, my man?" asks Mr. Bordley, very sternly. - -"Oh, I beg your honours will not have me put out--" - -The wailing of his voice had drawn a crowd of idlers and brother -shopkeepers, who seemed vastly to enjoy the knave's discomfiture. -Amongst them I recognized my old acquaintance, Weld, now a rival -butcher. He pushed forward boldly. - -"And your honours please," said he, "he has sold lamb to half the Tory -gentry in Annapolis." - -"A lie!" cried Chipchase; "a lie, as God hears me!" - -Now Captain Clapsaddle was one who carried his loves and his hatreds to -the grave, and he had never liked Weld since the day, six years gone by, -he had sent me into the Ship tavern. And when Weld heard the captain's -voice he slunk away without a word. - -"Have a care, Master Weld," says he, in a quiet tone that boded no good; -"there is more evidence against you than you will like." - -Master Chipchase, after being frightened almost out of his senses, was -pardoned this once by Captain Daniel's influence. We went thence to Mr. -Hildreth's shop; he was suspected of having got tea out of a South River -snow; then to Mr. Jackson's; and so on. 'Twas after two when we got -back to the Coffee House, and sat down to as good a dinner as Mr. Claude -could prepare. "And now," cried Colonel Lloyd, "we shall have your -adventures, Richard. I would that your uncle were here to listen to -them," he added dryly. - -I recited them very much as I had done the night before, and I warrant -you, my dears, that they listened with more zest and eagerness than did -Mr. Walpole. But they were all shrewd men, and kept their suspicions, -if they had any, to themselves. Captain Daniel would have me omit -nothing,--my intimacy with Mr. Fox, the speech at Brooks's Club, and the -riding-match at Hyde Park. - -"What say you to that, gentlemen?" he cried. "Egad, I'll be sworn he -deserves credit,--an arrant young spark out of the Colonies, scarce -turned nineteen, defeating a duke of the realm on horseback, and -preaching the gospel of 'no taxation' at Brooks's Club! Nor the favour -of Sandwich or March could turn him from his principles." - -Modesty, my dears, does not permit me to picture the enthusiasm of these -good gentlemen, who bore the responsibility of the colony of Maryland -upon their shoulders. They made more of me than I deserved. In vain did -I seek to explain that if a young man was but well-born, and had a full -purse and a turn for high play, his principles might go hang, for all -Mr. Fox cared. Colonel Lloyd commanded that the famous rose punch-bowl -be filled to the brim with Mr. Claude's best summer brew, and they drank -my health and my grandfather's memory. It mattered little to them that I -was poor. They vowed I should not lose by my choice. Mr. Bordley offered -me a home, and added that I should have employment enough in the days -to come. Mr. Carroll pressed me likewise. And big-hearted Colonel Lloyd -desired to send me to King's College, as was my grandfather's wish, -where Will Fotheringay and my cousin Philip had been for a term. I might -make a barrister of myself. Mr. Swain alone was silent and thoughtful, -but I did not for an instant doubt that he would have done as much for -me. - -Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions -concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his -Majesty and Parliament. I say without vanity that I was able to -enlighten them not a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the -set into which I had fallen in London than if I had become the confidant -of Rockingham himself. America was a long way from England in those -days. I regretted that I had not arrived in London in time to witness -Lord Chatham's dramatic return to politics in January, when he had -completed the work of Junius, and broken up the Grafton ministry. But -I told them of the debate I had heard in St. Stephen's, and made them -laugh over Mr. Fox's rescue of the King's friends, and the hustling of -Mr. Burke from the Lords. - -They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much -ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with -him. They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a -bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr. -Courtenay's letter had stated. I replied that it was so. I did not add -that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine. -Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall. I made no doubt these things -would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell -them. Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I -would come with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say -to me. We went the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him -for avoiding Marlboro' Street, which must needs bring me painful -recollections. He said little on the way. - -I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered -porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely -empty without her. Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for -us under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree. The air was -still, and heavy with the flowers' scent, and the sun was dipping behind -the low eaves of the house. It was so natural to be there that I scarce -realized all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the -picket fence. Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it -and over the wall to Marlboro' Street. Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts. - -"Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will, -Richard," he began abruptly. "Altho' we thought never to see you again, -we have hoped against hope. I fear you have little chance for your -property, my lad." - -I replied that Captain Daniel had so led me to believe, and thanked him -for his kindness and his trouble. - -"'Twas no trouble," he replied quickly. "Indeed, I wish it might have -been. I shall always think of your grandfather with reverence and with -sorrow. He was a noble man, and was a friend to me, in spite of my -politics, when other gentlemen of position would not invite me to their -houses. It would be the greatest happiness of my life if I could restore -his property to you, where he would have had it go, and deprive that -villain, your uncle, of the fruits of his crime." - -"Then there is nothing to be got by contesting the will?" I asked. - -He shook his head soberly. - -"I fear not at present," said he, "nor can I with honesty hold out any -hope to you, Richard. Your uncle, by reason of his wealth, is a man of -undue influence with the powers of the colony. Even if he were not so, I -doubt greatly whether we should be the gainers. The will is undoubtedly -genuine. Mr. Carvel thought you dead, and we cannot prove undue -influence by Grafton unless we also prove that it was he who caused your -abduction. Do you think you can prove that?" - -"There is one witness," I exclaimed, "who overheard my uncle and Mr. -Allen talking of South River and Griggs, the master of the slaver, in -the stables at Carvel Hall." - -"And who is that?" demanded Mr. Swain, with more excitement than I -believed him capable of. - -"Old Harvey." - -Your grandfather's coachman? Alas, he died the day after Mr. Carvel, and -was buried the same afternoon. Have you spoken of this?" - -"Not to a soul," said I. - -"Then I would not. You will have to be very careful and say nothing, -Richard. Let me hear what other reasons you have for believing that your -uncle tried to do away with you." - -I told him, lucidly as possible, everything I have related in these -pages, and the admission of Griggs. He listened intently, shaking his -head now and then, but not a word out of him. - -"No," he said at length, "nothing is there which will be admitted, but -enough to damn him if you yourself might be a witness. I will give you -the law, briefly: descendible estates among us are of two kinds, estates -in fee simple and estates in fee tail. Had your grandfather died without -a will, his estate, which we suppose to be in fee simple, would have -descended to you as the son of his eldest son, according to the fourth -of the canons of descent in Blackstone. But with us fee simple estates -are devisable, and Mr. Carvel was wholly within his right in cutting off -the line of his eldest son. Do you follow me?" - -I nodded. - -"There is one chance," he continued, "and that is a very slim one. I -said that Mr. Carvel's estate was supposed to be in fee simple. -Estates tail are not devisable. Our system of registration is far from -infallible, and sometimes an old family settlement turns up to prove -that a property which has been willed out of the direct line, as in -fee simple, is in reality entailed. Is there a possibility of any such -document?" - -I replied that I did not know. My grandfather had never brought up the -subject. - -"We must bend our efforts in that direction," said the barrister. "I -shall have my clerks make a systematic search." - -He ceased talking, and sat sipping his sangaree in the abstracted manner -common to him. I took the opportunity to ask about his family, thinking -about what Dolly had said of Patty's illness. - -"The mother is as well as can be expected, Richard, and Patty very -rosy with the country air. Your disappearance was a great shock to them -both." - -"And Tom?" - -He went behind his reserve. "Tom is a d--d rake," he exclaimed, with -some vehemence. "I have given him over. He has taken up with that -macaroni Courtenay, who wins his money,--or rather my money,--and your -cousin Philip, when he is home from King's College. How Tom can be son -of mine is beyond me, in faith. I see him about once in two months, when -he comes here with a bill for his satins and his ruffles, and along face -of repentance, and a lot of gaming debts to involve my honour. And that -reminds me, Richard," said he, looking straight at me with his clear, -dark eyes: "have you made any plans for your future?" - -I ventured to ask his advice as to entering the law. - -"As the only profession open to a gentleman," he replied, smiling a -little. "No, you were no more cut out for an attorney, or a barrister, -or a judge, than was I for a macaroni doctor. The time is not far away, -my lad," he went on, seeing my shame and confusion, "when an American -may amass money in any way he chooses, and still be a gentleman, behind -a counter, if he will." - -"I do not fear work, Mr. Swain," I remarked, with some pride. - -"That is what I have been thinking," he said shortly. "And I am not a -man to make up my mind while you count three, Richard. I have the place -in Talbot, and no one to look after it. And--and in short I think you -are the man." - -He paused to watch the effect of this upon me. But I was so taken aback -by this new act of kindness that I could not say a word. - -"Tom is fast going to the devil, as I told you," he continued. "He -cannot be trusted. If I die, that estate shall be Patty's, and he may -never squander it. Captain Daniel tells me, and Mr. Bordley also, that -you managed at Carvel Hall with sense and ability. I know you are very -young, but I think I may rely upon you." - -Again he hesitated, eying me fixedly. - -"Ah," said he, with his quiet smile, "it is the old noblesse oblige. How -many careers has it ruined since the world began!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES - -I was greatly touched, and made Mr. Swain many awkward acknowledgments, -which he mercifully cut short. I asked him for a while to think over -his offer. This seemed to please rather than displease him. And my first -impulse on reaching the inn was to ask the captain's advice. I thought -better of it however, and at length resolved to thrash out the matter -for myself. - -The next morning, as I sat reflecting, an overwhelming desire seized me -to go to Marlboro' Street. Hitherto I could not have borne the sight of -the old place. I gulped down my emotion as the gate creaked behind me, -and made my way slowly to the white seat under the big chestnut behind -the house, where my grandfather had been wont to sit reading his prints, -in the warm weather. The flowers and the hedges had grown to a certain -wildness; and the smell of the American roses carried me back-as odours -will-to long-forgotten and trivial scenes. Here I had been caned many a -day for Mr. Daaken's reports, and for earlier offences. And I recalled -my mother as she once ran out at the sound of my cries to beg me off. So -vivid was that picture that I could hear Mr. Carvel say: "He is yours, -madam, not mine. Take him!" - -I started up. The house was still, the sun blistering the green paint of -the shutters. My eye was caught by those on the room that had been hers, -and which, by my grandfather's decree, had lain closed since she left -it. The image of it grew in my mind: the mahogany bed with its poppy -counterpane and creamy curtains, and the steps at the side by which -she was wont to enter it; and the 'prie-dieu', whence her soul had been -lifted up to God. And the dresser with her china and silver upon it, -covered by years of dust. For I had once stolen the key from Willis's -bunch, crept in, and crept out again, awed. That chamber would be -profaned, now, and those dear ornaments, which were mine, violated. The -imagination choked me. - -I would have them. I must. Nothing easier than to pry open a door or -window in the north wing, by the ball-room. When I saw Grafton I would -tell him. Nay, I would write him that day. I was even casting about me -for an implement, when I heard a step on the gravel beside me. - -I swung around, and came face to face with my uncle. - -He must have perceived me. And after the first shock of my surprise had -passed, I remarked a bearing on him that I had not seen before. He was -master of the situation at last,--so it read. The realization gave him -an easier speech than ever. - -"I thought I might find you here, Richard," he said, "since you were not -at the Coffee House." - -He did not offer me his hand. I could only stare at him, for I had -expected anything but this. - -"I came from Carvel Hall to get you," he proceeded smoothly enough. -"I heard but yesterday of your return, and some of your miraculous -adventures. Your recklessness has caused us many a trying day, Richard, -and I believe killed your grandfather. You have paid dearly, and have -made us pay dearly, for your mad frolic of fighting cut-throats on the -highroad." - -The wonder was that I did not kill him on the spot. I cannot think what -possessed the man,--he must have known me better. - -"My recklessness!" I shouted, fairly hoarse with anger. I paid no heed -to Mr. Swain's warning. "You d--d scoundrel!" I cried, "it was you -killed him, and you know it. When you had put me out of the way and -he was in your power, you tortured him to death. You forced him to die -alone with your sneering face, while your shrew of a wife counted cards -downstairs. Grafton Carvel, God knows you better than I, who know you -two well. And He will punish you as sure as the crack of doom." - -He heard me through, giving back as I came forward, his face blanching -only a little, and wearing all the time that yellow smile which so -fitted it. - -"You have finished?" says he. - -"Ay, I have finished. And now you may order me from this ground you -have robbed me of. But there are some things in that house you shall not -steal, for they are mine despite you." - -"Name them, Richard," he said, very sorrowful. - -"The articles in my mother's room, which were hers." - -"You shall have them this day," he answered. - -It was his way never to lose his temper, tho' he were called by the -vilest name in the language. He must always assume this pious grief -which made me long to throttle him. He had the best of me, even now, as -he took the great key from his pocket. - -"Will you look at them before you go?" he asked. - -At first I was for refusing. Then I nodded. He led the way silently -around by the front; and after he had turned the lock he stepped aside -with a bow to let me pass in ahead of him. Once more I was in the -familiar hall with the stairs dividing at the back. It was cool after -the heat, and musty, and a touch of death hung in the prisoned air. -We paused for a moment on the landing, beside the high, triple-arched -window which the branches tapped on windy winter days, while Grafton -took down the bunch of keys from beside the clock. I thought of my dear -grandfather winding it every Sunday, and his ruddy face and large figure -as he stood glancing sidewise down at me. Then the sound of Grafton's -feet upon the bare steps recalled the present. - -We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the -ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open -the window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not -foreign to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when -at last it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the -ray of sunlight from the window. I entered reverently. I took only -the silverbound prayer-book, cast a lingering look at the old familiar -objects dimly defined, and came out and locked the door again. I said -very quietly that I would send for the things that afternoon, for my -anger was hushed by what I had seen. - -We halted together on the uncovered porch in front of the house, that -had a seat set on each side of it. Marlboro' Street was still, the wide -trees which flanked it spreading their shade over walk and roadway. Not -a soul was abroad in the midday heat, and the windows of the long house -opposite were sightless. - -"Richard," said my uncle, staring ahead of him, "I came to offer you a -home, and you insult me brutally, as you have done unreproved all your -life. And yet no one shall say of me that I shirk my duty. But first I -must ask you if there is aught else you desire of me." - -"The black boy, Hugo, is mine," I said. I had no great love for Hugo, -save for association's sake, and I had one too many servants as it was; -but to rescue one slave from Grafton's clutches was charity. - -"You shall have him," he replied, "and your chaise, and your wardrobe, -and your horses, and whatever else I have that belongs to you. As I was -saying, I will not shirk my duty. The memory of my dear father, and of -what he would have wished, will not permit me to let you go a-begging. -You shall be provided for out of the estate, despite what you have said -and done." - -This was surely the quintessence of a rogue's imagination. Instinctively -I shrank from him. With a show of piety that 'turned me sick he -continued: - -"Let God witness that I carry out my father's will!" - -"Stop there, Grafton Carvel!" I cried; "you shall not take His name in -vain. Under this guise of holiness you and your accomplice have done the -devil's own work, and the devil will reward you." - -This reference to Mr. Allen, I believe, frightened him. For a second -only did he show it. - -"My--my accomplice, sir!" he stammered. And then righting himself: "You -will have to explain this, by Heaven." - -"In ample time your plot shall be laid bare, and you and his Reverence -shall hang, or lie in chains." - -"You threaten, Mr. Carvel?" he shouted, nearly stepping off the porch in -his excitement. - -"Nay, I predict," I replied calmly. And I went down the steps and out -of the gate, he looking after me. Before I had turned the corner of -Freshwater Lane, he was in the seat, and fanning himself with his hat. - -I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the -good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between -the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard -of my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son -(for the fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no -more help flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or -Cynthia his back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my -recital, when Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker, -which caused Mr. Swain to let out a whistle of surprise. - -"So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel," said he. "I thought so." - -Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put -his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man -was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to -talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which -he enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of -Mr. Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate -lying in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less -of arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the -indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard -Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare -of his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his -obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the -acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing -forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel. -This condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not -understand a word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in -English. His quiet laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger, who -had before been sufficiently ill at ease in the presence of the great -lawyer. Mr. Tucker blew his nose loudly to hide his confusion. - -"And what say you, Richard?" said Mr. Swain, without a shade of accent -in his voice. - -I bowed my head. I knew that the honest barrister had read my heart -when he spoke of noblesse oblige. That senseless pride of cast, so -deep-rooted in those born in our province, had made itself felt. To be -a factor (so I thought, for I was young) was to renounce my birth. Until -that moment of travail the doctrine of equality had seemed very pretty -to me. Your fine gentleman may talk as nobly as he pleases over his -Madeira, and yet would patronize Monsieur Rousseau if he met him; and he -takes never a thought of those who knuckle to him every day, and clean -his boots and collect his rents. But when he is tried in the fire, -and told suddenly to collect some one else's rents and curse another's -negroes, he is fainthearted for the experiment. So it was with me when -I had to meet the issue. I might take Grafton's offer, and the chance -to marry Dorothy was come again. For by industry the owner of the Kent -lands would become rich. - -The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies. When I -looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me. - -"You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer," I said. - -He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble -servitude bowed himself out. - -The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands. - -"What said I, Henry?" he cried. "Did I not know the lad?" - -Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat. He was still gazing at me with a -curious expression. And then I saw the world in truer colour. This good -Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for -my rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and -obscurity. I stood, humbled before him. - -"I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain," I said, vainly trying to -steady my voice, "but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed -me here from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my -uncle. I will make over the black to you and you will have him." - -He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm. "You -and the captain dine with me to-day," says he. "And as for Banks, I -think that can be arranged. Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained -butler, egad. I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard. -But we'll be off for Cordon's Pride in the morning, and I know of one -little girl will be glad to see us." - -We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street. And the captain -argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker's visit betrayed a weak point -in Grafton's position. But the barrister shook his head and said that -Grafton was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared -me. It was Mr. Swain's opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put -himself in a good light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little -revenge mixed therein, as the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had -given him when he cast him off. - -A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain -and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next -morning. We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on -the soil of my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past -Master Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for -it is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and -Wilmot House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the -horse's neck, so that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of -comment when I overtook him again. - -'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected -at the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly -wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt. -He drew up, and glanced at me. - -"You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these," -said he. "The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than -husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a -rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore -gentlemen, especially in Dorchester," he added; "they get to be -fishmongers." - -Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in -Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That -day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered -about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and -youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood -immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves -rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse -and took her hands. - -"So you like my surprise, girl?" said her father, as he kissed her -blushing face. - -For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad -porch in front. - -"Our barrister is come, mother," we heard her exclaiming, "and whom do -you think he has brought?" - -"Is it Richard?" asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual. - -I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She -was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me -toward her, kissing me on both cheeks. - -"I thank God for His goodness," said she. - -"And the boy has come to stay, mother," said her husband, as he stooped -over her. - -"To stay!" cries Patty. - -"Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home," replied the barrister. "And now -I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will -be well looked after." - -Patty gasped. - -"Oh, I am so glad!" said she, "I could almost rejoice that his uncle -cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?" - -"He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear," says her father, -smiling and tilting her chin; "we shall have no such persons as factors -here." - -At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, -and then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, -Percy Singleton. - -"May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard," said he, in his manly way; "and -rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?" - -"Thank you, Percy," I answered. I was not in a state to say much more. - -"And now," exclaims Patty, "what a dinner we shall have in the -prodigal's honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. -Brice told me of." - -She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing -in the kitchen. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. GORDON'S PRIDE - -The years of a man's life that count the most are often those which may -be passed quickest in the story of it. And so I may hurry over the first -years I spent as Mr. Swain's factor at Gordon's Pride. The task that -came to my hand was heaven-sent. - -That manor-house, I am sure, was the tidiest in all Maryland, thanks to -Patty's New England blood. She was astir with the birds of a morning, -and near the last to retire at night, and happy as the days were long. -She was ever up to her elbows in some dish, and her butter and her -biscuits were the best in the province. Little she cared to work -samplers, or peacocks in pretty wools, tho' in some way she found -the time to learn the spinet. As the troubles with the mother country -thickened, she took to a foot-wheel, and often in the crisp autumn -evenings I would hear the bumping of it as I walked to the house, and -turn the knob to come upon her spinning by the twilight. She would have -no English-made linen in that household. "If mine scratch your back, -Richard," she would say, "you must grin and bear, and console yourself -with your virtue." It was I saw to the flax, and learned from Ivie -Rawlinson (who had come to us from Carvel Hall) the best manner to -ripple and break and swingle it. And Mr. Swain, in imitation of the -high example set by Mr. Bordley, had buildings put up for wheels and the -looms, and in due time kept his own sheep. - -If man or woman, white or black, fell sick on the place, it was Patty -herself who tended them. She knew the virtue of every herb in the big -chest in the storeroom. And at table she presided over her father's -guests with a womanliness that won her more admiration than mine. Now -that the barrister was become a man of weight, the house was as crowded -as ever was Carvel Hall. Carrolls and Pacas and Dulanys and Johnsons, -and Lloyds and Bordleys and Brices and Scotts and Jennings and Ridouts, -and Colonel Sharpe, who remained in the province, and many more families -of prominence which I have not space to mention, all came to Gordon's -Pride. Some of these, as their names proclaim, were of the King's side; -but the bulk of Mr. Swain's company were stanch patriots, and toasted -Miss Patty instead of his Majesty. By this I do not mean that they -lacked loyalty, for it is a matter of note that our colony loved King -George. - -I must not omit from the list above the name of my good friend, Captain -Clapsaddle. - -Nor was there lack of younger company. Betty Tayloe, who plied me -with questions concerning Dorothy and London, but especially about the -dashing and handsome Lord Comyn; and the Dulany girls, and I know not -how many others. Will Fotheringay, when he was home from college, and -Archie Brice, and Francis Willard (whose father was now in the Assembly) -and half a dozen more to court Patty, who would not so much as look at -them. And when I twitted her with this she would redden and reply: "I -was created for a housewife, sir, and not to make eyes from behind a -fan." Indeed, she was at her prettiest and best in the dimity frock, -with the sleeves rolled up. - -'Twas a very merry place, the manor of Gordon's Pride. A generous bowl -of punch always stood in the cool hall, through which the south winds -swept from off the water, and fruit and sangaree and lemonade were on -the table there. The manor had no ball-room, but the negro fiddlers -played in the big parlour. And the young folks danced till supper time. -In three months Patty's suppers grew famous in a colony where there was -no lack of good cooks. - -The sweet-natured invalid enjoyed these festivities in her quiet way, -and often pressed me to partake. So did Patty beg me, and Mr. Swain. -Perhaps a false sense of pride restrained me, but my duties held me all -day in the field, and often into the night when there was curing to be -done, or some other matters of necessity. And for the rest, I thought I -detected a change in the tone of Mr. Fotheringay, and some others, tho' -it may have been due to sensibility on my part. I would put up with no -patronage. - -There was no change of tone, at least, with the elder gentlemen. They -plainly showed me an added respect. And so I fell into the habit, after -my work was over, of joining them in their suppers rather than the sons -and daughters. There I was made right welcome. The serious conversation -spiced with the wit of trained barristers and men of affairs better -suited my changed condition of life. The times were sober, and for those -who could see, a black cloud was on each horizon. 'Twas only a matter -of months when the thunder-clap was to come-indeed, enough was going on -within our own province to forebode a revolution. The Assembly to which -many of these gentlemen belonged was in a righteous state of opposition -to the Proprietary and the Council concerning the emoluments of colonial -officers and of clergymen. Honest Governor Eden had the misfortune to -see the justice of our side, and was driven into a seventh state by his -attempts to square his conscience. Bitter controversies were waging -in the Gazette, and names were called and duels fought weekly. For -our cause "The First Citizen" led the van, and the able arguments and -moderate language of his letters soon identified him as Mr. Charles -Carroll of Carrollton, one of the greatest men Maryland has ever known. -But even at Mr. Swain's, amongst his few intimate friends, Mr. Carroll -could never be got to admit his 'nom de guerre' until long after -'Antilon' had been beaten. - -I write it with pride, that at these suppers I was sometimes asked to -speak; and, having been but lately to England, to give my opinion upon -the state of affairs there. Mr. Carroll honoured me upon two occasions -with his confidence, and I was made clerk to a little club they had, and -kept the minutes in my own hand. - -I went about in homespun, which, if good enough for Mr. Bordley, was -good enough for me. I rode with him over the estate. This gentleman -was the most accomplished and scientific farmer we had in the province. -Having inherited his plantation on Wye Island, near Carvel Hall, he -resigned his duties as judge, and a lucrative practice, to turn all his -energies to the cultivation of the soil. His wheat was as eagerly sought -after as was Colonel Washington's tobacco. - -It was to Mr. Bordley's counsel that the greater part of my success -was due. He taught me the folly of ploughing with a fluke,--a custom to -which the Eastern Shore was wedded, pointing out that a double surface -was thus exposed to the sun's rays; and explained at length why there -was more profit in small grain in that district than heavy tobacco. He -gave me Dr. Eliot's "Essays on Field Husbandry," and Mill's "Husby," -which I read from cover to cover. And I went from time to time to visit -him at Wye Island, when he would canter with me over that magnificent -plantation, and show me with pride the finished outcome of his -experiments. - -Mr. Swain's affairs kept him in town the greater part of the twelve -months, and Mrs. Swain and Patty moved to Annapolis in the autumn. But -for three years I was at Cordon's Pride winter and summer alike. At -the end of that time I was fortunate enough to show my employer such -substantial results as to earn his commendation--ay, and his confidence, -which was the highest token of that man's esteem. The moneys of the -estate he left entirely at my order. And in the spring of '73, when the -opportunity was suddenly offered to buy a thousand acres of excellent -wheat land adjoining, I made the purchase for him while he was at -Williamsburg, and upon my own responsibility. - -This connected the plantation on the east with Singleton's. It had been -my secret hope that the two estates might one day be joined in marriage. -For of all those who came a-courting Patty, Percy was by far the best. -He was but a diffident suitor; he would sit with me on the lawn evening -after evening, when company was there, while Fotheringay and Francis -Willard made their compliments within,--silly flatteries, at which Patty -laughed. - -Percy kept his hounds, and many a run we had together' in the sparkling -days that followed the busy summer, when the crops were safe in the -bottoms; or a quiet pipe and bottle in his bachelor's hall, after a -soaking on the duck points. - -And this brings me to a subject on which I am loth to write. Where Mr. -Singleton was concerned, Patty, the kindest of creatures, was cruelty -itself. Once, when I had the effrontery to venture a word in his behalf, -I had been silenced so effectively as to make my ears tingle. A thousand -little signs led me to a conclusion which pained me more than I can -express. Heaven is my witness that no baser feeling leads me to hint of -it here. Every day while the garden lasted flowers were in my room, and -it was Banks who told me that she would allow no other hands than her -own to place them by my bed. He got a round rating from me for violating -the pledge of secrecy he had given her. It was Patty who made my shirts, -and on Christmas knitted me something of comfort; who stood on the -horse-block in the early morning waving after me as I rode away, and at -my coming her eyes would kindle with a light not to be mistaken. - -None of these things were lost upon Percy Singleton, and I often -wondered why he did not hate me. He was of the kind that never shows a -hurt. Force of habit still sent him to Gordon's Pride, but for days he -would have nothing to say to the mistress of it, or she to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. VISITORS - -It was not often that Mr. Thomas Swain honoured Gordon's Pride with his -presence. He vowed that the sober Whig company his father brought there -gave him the vapours. He snapped his fingers at the articles of the -Patriots' Association, and still had his cocked hats and his Brussels -lace and his spyglass, and his top boots when he rode abroad, like any -other Tory buck. His intimates were all of the King's side,--of the -worst of the King's side, I should say, for I would not be thought to -cast any slur on the great number of conscientious men of that party. -But, being the son of one of the main props of the Whigs, Mr. Tom went -unpunished for his father's sake. He was not uncondemned. - -Up to 1774, the times that Mr. Swain mentioned his son to me might -be counted on the fingers of one hand. It took not a great deal of -shrewdness to guess that he had paid out many a pretty sum to keep Tom's -honour bright: as bright, at least, as such doubtful metal would polish. -Tho' the barrister sought my ear in many matters, I never heard a -whimper out of him on this score. - -Master Tom had no ambition beyond that of being a macaroni; his -easy-going nature led him to avoid alike trouble and responsibility. -Hence he did not bother his head concerning my position. He appeared -well content that I should make money out of the plantation for him to -spend. His visits to Gordon's Pride were generally in the late autumn, -and he brought his own company with him. I recall vividly his third -or fourth appearance, in October of '73. Well I may! The family was -preparing to go to town, and this year I was to follow them, and take -from Mr. Swain's shoulders some of his private business, for he had been -ailing a little of late from overwork. - -The day of which I have spoken a storm had set in, the rain falling in -sheets. I had been in the saddle since breakfast, seeing to an hundred -repairs that had to be made before the cold weather. 'Twas near the -middle of the afternoon when I pulled up before the weaving house. The -looms were still, and Patty met me at the door with a grave look, which -I knew portended something. But her first words were of my comfort. - -"Richard, will you ever learn sense? You have been wet all day long, and -have missed your dinner. Go at once and change your clothes, sir!" she -commanded severely. - -"I have first to look at the warehouse, where the roof is leaking," I -expostulated. - -"You shall do no such thing," replied she, "but dry yourself, and march -into the dining room. We have had the ducks you shot yesterday, and some -of your experimental hominy; but they are all gone." - -I knew well she had laid aside for me some dainty, as was her habit. -I dismounted. She gave me a quick, troubled glance, and said in a low -voice: - -"Tom is come. And oh, I dare not tell you whom he has with him now!" - -"Courtenay?" I asked. - -"Yes, of coarse. I hate the sight of the man. But your cousin, Philip -Carvel, is here, Richard. Father will be very angry. And they are making -a drinking-tavern of the house." - -I gave Firefly a slap that sent her trotting stable-ward, and walked -rapidly to the house. I found the three of them drinking in the hall, -the punch spilled over the table, and staining the cards. - -"Gad's life!" cries Tom, "here comes Puritan Richard, in his broad rim. -How goes the crop, Richard? 'Twill have to go well, egad, for I lost an -hundred at the South River Club last week!" - -Next him sat Philip, whom I had not seen since before I was carried off. -He was lately come home from King's College; and very mysteriously, his -father giving out that his health was not all it should be. He had not -gained Grafton's height, but he was broader, and his face had something -in it of his father. He had his mother's under lip and complexion. -Grafton was sallow; Philip was a peculiar pink,--not the ruddy pink of -heartier natures, like my grandfather's, nor yet had he the peach-like -skin of Mr. Dix. Philip's was a darker and more solid colour, and I have -never seen man or woman with it and not mistrusted them. He wore a red -velvet coat embroidered with gold, and as costly ruffles as I had ever -seen in London. But for all this my cousin had a coarse look, and his -polished blue flints of eyes were those of a coarse man. - -He got to his feet as Tom spoke, looking anywhere but at me, and came -forward slowly. He was loyal to no one, was Philip, not even to his -father. When he was got within three paces he halted. - -"How do you, cousin?" says he. - -"A little wet, as you perceive, Philip," I replied. - -I left him and stood before the fire, my rough wool steaming in the -heat. He sat down again, a little awkwardly; and the situation began to -please me better. - -"How do you?" I asked presently. - -"I have got a devilish cold," said he. "Faith, I'll warrant the doctor -will be sworn I have been but indifferent company since we left the -Hall. Eh, doctor?" - -Courtenay, with his feet stretched out, bestowed an amiable but languid -wink upon me, as much as to say that I knew what Mr. Philip's company -was at best. When I came out after my dinner, they were still sitting -there, Courtenay yawning, and Tom and Philip wrangling over last night's -play. - -"Come, my man of affairs, join us a hand!" says the doctor to me. "I -have known the time when you would sit from noon until supper." - -"I had money then," said I. - -"And you have a little now, or I am cursed badly mistook. Oons! what do -you fear?" he exclaimed, "you that have played with March and Fox?" - -"I fear nothing, doctor," I answered, smiling. "But a man must have a -sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital." - -"One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume," says he, with sarcasm. - -"And if it were, it could scarce be more pat," I retorted. "'Tis Poor -Richard's maxim." - -"O lud! O my soul!" cries Tom, with a hiccup and a snigger; "'tis time -you made another grand tour, Courtenay. Here's the second Whig has got -in on you within the week!" - -"Thank God they have not got me down to osnabrig and bumbo yet," replies -the doctor. Coming over to me by the fire, he tapped my sleeve and added -in a low tone: "Forbearance with such a pair of asses is enough to make -a man shed bitter tears. But a little of it is necessary to keep out of -debt. You and I will play together, against both the lambs, Richard. One -of them is not far from maudlin now." - -"Thank you, doctor," I answered politely, "but I have a better way to -make my living." In three years I had learned a little to control my -temper. - -He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Eh bien, mon bon," says he, "I dare -swear you know your own game better than do I." And he cast a look up -the stairs, of which I quite missed the meaning. Indeed, I was wholly -indifferent. The doctor and his like had passed out of my life, and I -believed they were soon to disappear from our Western Hemisphere. The -report I had heard was now confirmed, that his fortune was dissipated, -and that he lived entirely off these young rakes who aspired to be -macaronies. - -"Since your factor is become a damned Lutheran, Tom," said he, returning -to the table and stripping a pack, "it will have to be picquet. You -promised me we could count on a fourth, or I had never left Inman's." - -It was Tom, as I had feared, who sat down unsteadily opposite. Philip -lounged and watched them sulkily, snuffing and wheezing and dipping into -the bowl, and cursing the house for a draughty barn. I took a pipe -on the settle to see what would come of it. I was not surprised that -Courtenay lost at first, and that Tom drank the most of the punch. Nor -was it above half an hour before the stakes were raised and the tide -began to turn in the doctor's favour. - -"A plague of you, Courtenay!" cries Mr. Tom, at length, flinging down -the cards. His voice was thick, while the Selwyn of Annapolis was never -soberer in his life. Tom appealed first to Philip for the twenty pounds -he owed him. - -"You know how damned stingy my father is, curse you," whined my cousin, -in return. "I told you I should not have it till the first of the -month." - -Tom swore back. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and sank into -that attitude of dejection common to drunkards. Suddenly he pulled -himself up. - -"'Shblood! Here's Richard t' draw from. Lemme have fifty pounds, -Richard." - -"Not a farthing," I said, unmoved. - -"You say wha' shall be done with my father's money!" he cried. "I call -tha' damned cool--Gad's life! I do. Eh, Courtenay?" - -Courtenay had the sense not to interfere. - -"I'll have you dishcharged, Gads death! so I will!" he shouted. "No -damned airs wi' me, Mr. Carvel. I'll have you know you're not wha' you -once were, but, only a cursht oversheer." - -He struggled to his feet, forgot his wrath on the instant, and began to -sing drunkenly the words of a ribald air. I took him by both shoulders -and pushed him back into his chair. - -"Be quiet," I said sternly; "while your mother and sister are here you -shall not insult them with such a song." He ceased, astonished. "And as -for you, gentlemen," I continued, "you should know better than to make a -place of resort out of a gentleman's house." - -Courtenay's voice broke the silence that followed. - -"Of all the cursed impertinences I ever saw, egad!" he drawled. "Is this -your manor, Mr. Carvel? Or have you a seat in Kent?" - -I would not have it in black and white that I am an advocate of -fighting. But a that moment I was in the mood when it does not matter -much one way or the other. The drunken man carried us past the point. - -"The damned in--intriguing rogue'sh worked himself into my father's -grashes," he said, counting out his words. "He'sh no more Whig than me. -I know'sh game, Courtenay--he wants t' marry Patty. Thish place'll be -hers." - -The effect upon me of these words, with all their hideous implication of -gossip and scandal, was for an instant benumbing. The interpretation -of the doctor's innuendo struck me then. I was starting forward, with -a hand open to clap over Tom's mouth, when I saw the laugh die on -Courtenay's face, and him come bowing to his legs. I turned with a -start. - -On the stairs stood Patty herself, pale as marble. - -"Come with me, Tom," she said. - -He had obeyed her from childhood. This time he tried, and failed -miserably. - -"Beg pardon, Patty," he stammered, "no offensh meant. Thish factor -thinks h' ownsh Gordon's now. I say, not'll h' marries you. Good fellow, -Richard, but infernal forward. Eh, Courtenay?" - -Philip turned away, while the doctor pretended to examine the silver -punch-ladle. As for me, I could only stare. It was Patty who kept her -head, and made us a stately curtsey. - -"Will you do me the kindness, gentlemen," said she, "to leave me with my -brother?" - -We walked silently into the parlour, and I closed the door. - -"Slife!" cried Courtenay, "she's a vision. What say you, Philip? And I -might see her in that guise again, egad, I would forgive Tom his five -hundred crowns!" - -"A buxom vision," agreed my cousin, "but I vow I like 'em so." He had -forgotten his cold. - -"This conversation is all of a piece with the rest of your conduct," -said I, hotly. - -The candles were burning brightly in the sconces. The doctor walked to -the glass, took snuff, and burnished his waistcoat before he answered. - -"Sure, a fortune lies under every virtue we assume," he recited. "But -she is not for you, Richard," says he, tapping his box. - -"Mr. Carvel, if you please," I replied. I felt the demon within me. But -I had the sense to realize that a quarrel with Dr. Courtenay, under -the circumstances, would be far from wise. He had no intention of -quarrelling, however. He made me a grand bow. - -"Mr. Carvel, your very obedient. Hereafter I shall know better than to -forget myself with an overseer." And he gave me his back. "What say you -to a game of billiards, Philip?" - -Philip seemed glad to escape. And soon I heard their voices, mingling -with the click of the balls. There followed for me one of the bitterest -half hours I have had in my life. Then Patty opened the hall door. - -"Will you come in for a moment, Richard?" she said, quite calmly. - -I followed her, wondering at the masterful spirit she had shown. For -there was Tom all askew in his chair, his feet one way and his hands -another, totally subdued. What was most to the point, he made me an -elaborate apology. How she had sobered his mind I know not. His body was -as helpless as the day he was born. - -Long before the guests thought of rising the next morning, Patty came to -me as I was having the mare saddled. The sun was up, and the clouds were -being chased, like miscreants who have played their prank, and were now -running for it. The sharp air brought the red into her cheeks. And for -the first time in her life with me she showed shyness. She glanced up -into my face, and then down at the leaves running on the ground. - -"I hope they will go to-day," said she, when I was ready to mount. - -I began to tighten the girths, venting my feelings on Firefly until the -animal swung around and made a vicious pass at my arm. - -"Richard!" - -"Yes." - -"You will not worry over that senseless speech of Tom's?" - -"I see it in a properer light now, Patty," I replied. "I usually do--in -the morning." - -She sighed. - -"You are so--high-strung," she said, "I was afraid you would--" - -"I would--?" - -She did not answer until I had repeated. - -"I was very silly," she said slowly, her colour mounting even higher," I -was afraid that you would--leave us." Stroking the mare's neck, and with -a little halt in her voice, "I do not know what we should do without -you." - -Indeed, I was beginning to think I would better leave, though where I -should go was more than I could say. With a quick intuition she caught -my hand as I put foot in the stirrup. - -"You will not go away!" she cried. "Say you will not! What would poor -father do? He is not so well as he used to be." - -The wild appeal in her eyes frightened me. It was beyond resisting. In -great agitation I put my foot to the ground again. - -"Patty, I should be a graceless scamp in truth," I exclaimed. "I do not -forget that your father gave me a home when mine was taken away, and has -made me one of his family. I shall thank God if I can but lighten some -of his burdens." - -But they did not depart that day, nor the next; nor, indeed, for a week -after. For Philip's cold brought on a high fever. He stuck to his bed, -and Patty herself made broth and dainties for him, and prescribed him -medicine out of the oak chest whence had come so much comfort. At first -Philip thought he would die, and forswore wine and cards, and some other -things the taste for which he had cultivated, and likewise worse vices -that had come to him by nature. - -I am greatly pleased to write that the stay profited the gallant Dr. -Courtenay nothing. Patty's mature beauty and her manner of carrying off -the episode in the hall had made a deep impression upon the Censor. I -read the man's mind in his eye; here was a match to mend his fortunes, -and do him credit besides. However, his wit and his languishing -glances and double meanings fell on barren ground. No tire-woman on the -plantation was busier than Patty during the first few days of his stay. -After that he grew sulky and vented his spleen on poor Tom, winning more -money from him at billiards and picquet. Since the doctor was too much -the macaroni to ride to hounds and to shoot ducks, time began to hang -exceeding heavy on his hands. - -Patty and I had many a quiet laugh over his predicament. And, to add -zest to the situation, I informed Singleton of what was going forward. -He came over every night for supper, and to my delight the bluff -Englishman was received in a fashion to make the doctor writhe and snort -with mortification. Never in his life had he been so insignificant a -person. And he, whose conversation was so sought after in the gay season -in town, was thrown for companionship upon a scarce-grown boy whose -talk was about as salted, and whose intellect as great, as those of the -cockerouse in our fable. He stood it about a se'nnight, at the end of -which space Philip was put on his horse, will-he-nill-he, and made to -ride northward. - -I sat with my cousin of an evening as he lay in bed. Not, I own, from -any charity on my part, but from other motives which do me no credit. -The first night he confessed his sins, and they edified me not a little. -On the second he was well enough to sit up and swear, and to vow that -Miss Swain was an angel; that he would marry her the very next week and -his father Grafton were not such a stickler for family. - -"Curse him," says his dutiful and loyal son, "he is so bally stingy with -my stipend that I am in debt to half the province. And I say it myself, -Richard, he has been a blackguard to you, tho' I allow him some little -excuse. You were faring better now, my dear cousin, and you had not -given him every reason to hate you. For I have heard him declare more -than once 'pon my soul, I have--that he would rather you were his friend -than his enemy." - -My contempt for Philip kept me silent here. I might quarrel with -Grafton, who had sense enough to feel pain at a well deserved thrust. -Philip had not the intelligence to recognize insult from compliment. It -was but natural he should mistake my attitude now. He leaned forward in -his bed. - -"Hark you, Richard," whispers he, with a glance at the door, "I might -tell you some things and I chose, and--and it were worth my while." - -"Worth your while?" I repeated vaguely. - -He traced nervously the figures on the counterpane. Next came a rush of -anger to redden his face. - -"By Gad, I will tell you. Swear to Gad I will." Then, the little -cunning inherited from his father asserting itself, he added, "Look you, -Richard, I am the son of one of the richest men in the colony, and I -get the pittance of a backwoods pastor. I tell you 'tis not to be borne -with. And I am not of as much consideration at the Hall as Brady, the -Irish convict, who has become overseer." - -I little wondered at this. Philip sank back, and for some moments eyed -me between narrowed lids. He continued presently with shortened breath: - -"I have evidence--I have evidence to get you back a good share of the -estate, which my father will never miss. And I will do it," he cries, -suddenly bold, "I will do it for three thousand pounds down when you -receive it." - -This was why he had come with Tom to Talbot! I was so dumfounded that -my speech was quite taken away. Then I got up and began pacing the room. -Was it not fair to fight a scoundrel with his own weapons? Here at last -was the witness Mr. Swain had been seeking so long, come of his own free -will. Then--Heaven help me!--my mind flew on. As time had passed I had -more than once regretted refusing the Kent plantation, which had put -her from whom my thought never wandered within my reach again. Good Mr. -Swain had erred for once. 'Twas foolish, indeed, not to accept a portion -of what was rightfully mine, when no more could be got. And now, if what -Philip said was true (and I doubted it not), here at last was the chance -come again to win her without whom I should never be happy. I glanced at -my cousin. - -"Gad's life!" says he, "it is cheap enough. I might have asked you -double." - -"So you might, and have been refused," I cried hotly. For I believe that -speech of his recalled me to my senses. It has ever been an instinct -with me that no real prosperity comes out of double-dealing. And -commerce with such a sneak sickened me. "Go back to your father, -Philip, and threaten him, and he may make you rich. Such as he live by -blackmail. And you may add, and you will, that the day of retribution is -coming for him." - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. MULTUM IN PARVO - -I lost no time after getting to Annapolis in confiding to Mr. Swain the -conversation I had had with my cousin Philip. And I noticed, as he sat -listening to my account in the library in Gloucester Street, that the -barrister looked very worn. He had never been a strong man, and -the severe strain he had been under with the patriots' business was -beginning to tell. - -He was very thoughtful when I had finished, and then told me briefly -that I had done well not to take the offer. "Tucker would have made -but short work of such evidence, my lad," said he, "and I think Master -Philip would have lied himself in and out a dozen times. I cannot think -what witness he would have introduced save Mr. Allen. And there is -scarcely a doubt that your uncle pays him for his silence, for I am told -he is living in Frederick in a manner far above what he gets from the -parish. However, Philip has given us something more to work on. It may -be that he can put hands on the messenger." - -I rose to go. - -"We shall bring them to earth yet, Richard, and I live," he added. "And -I have always meant to ask you whether you ever regretted your decision -in taking Gordon's Pride." - -"And you live, sir!" I exclaimed, not heeding the question. - -He smiled somewhat sadly. - -"Of one thing I am sure, my lad," he continued, "which is that I have -had no regrets about taking you. Mr. Bordley has just been here, and -tells me you are the ablest young man in the province. You see that more -eyes than mine are upon you. You have proved yourself a man, Richard, -and there are very few macaronies would have done as you did. I am -resolved to add another little mite to your salary." - -The "little mite" was of such a substantial nature that I protested -strongly against it. I thought of Tom's demands upon him. - -"I could afford to give you double for what you have made off the -place," he interrupted. "But I do not believe in young men having too -much." He sighed, and turned to his work. - -I hesitated. "You have spent time and labour upon my case, sir, and have -asked no fee." - -"I shall speak of the fee when I win it," he said dryly, "and not -before. How would you like to be clerk this winter to the Committee of -Correspondence?" - -I suppose my pleasure was expressed in my face. - -"Well," said he, "I have got you the appointment without much -difficulty. There are many ways in which you can be useful to the party -when not helping me with my affairs." - -This conversation gave me food for reflection during a week. I was -troubled about Mr. Swain, and what he had said as to not living kept -running in my head as I wrote or figured. For I had enough to hold me -busy. - -In the meantime, the clouds fast gathering on both sides of the Atlantic -grew blacker, and blacker still. I saw a great change in Annapolis. Men -of affairs went about with grave faces, while gay and sober alike were -touched by the spell. The Tory gentry, to be sure, rattled about in -their gilded mahogany coaches, in spite of jeers and sour looks. My Aunt -Caroline wore jewelled stomachers to the assemblies,--now become dry and -shrivelled entertainments. She kept her hairdresser, had three men in -livery to her chair, and a little negro in Turk's costume to wait on -her. I often met her in the streets, and took a fierce joy in staring -her, in the eye. And Grafton! By a sort of fate I was continually -running against him. He was a very busy man, was my uncle, and had a -kind of dignified run, which he used between Marlboro' Street and the -Council Chamber in the Stadt House, or the Governor's mansion. He -never did me the honour to glance at me. The Rev. Mr. Allen, too, came -a-visiting from Frederick, where he had grown stout as an alderman upon -the living and its perquisites and Grafton's additional bounty. The -gossips were busy with his doings, for he had his travelling-coach and -servant now. He went to the Tory balls with my aunt. Once I all but -encountered him on the Circle, but he ran into Northeast Street to avoid -me. - -Yes, that was the winter when the wise foresaw the inevitable, and the -first sharp split occurred between men who had been brothers. The old -order of things had plainly passed, and I was truly thankful that my -grandfather had not lived to witness those scenes. The greater part of -our gentry stood firm for America's rights, and they had behind them the -best lawyers in America. After the lawyers came the small planters -and most of the mechanics. The shopkeepers formed the backbone of King -George's adherents; the Tory gentry, the clergy, and those holding -office under the proprietor made the rest. - -And it was all about tea, a word which, since '67, had been steadily -becoming the most vexed in the language. The East India Company had put -forth a complaint. They had Heaven knows how many tons getting stale -in London warehouses, all by reason of our stubbornness, and so it was -enacted that all tea paying the small American tax should have a rebate -of the English duties. That was truly a master-stroke, for Parliament to -give it us cheaper than it could be had at home! To cause his Majesty's -government to lose revenues for the sake of being able to say they had -caught and taxed us at last! The happy result is now history, my dears. -And this is not a history, tho' I wish it were. What occurred at Boston, -at Philadelphia, and Charleston, has since caused Englishmen, as well -as Americans, to feel proud. The chief incident in Annapolis I shall -mention in another chapter. - -When it became known with us that several cargoes were on their way -to the colonies, excitement and indignation gained a pitch not reached -since the Stamp Act. Business came to a standstill, plantations lay -idle, and gentry and farmers flocked to Annapolis, and held meetings and -made resolutions anew. On my way of a morning from Mr. Swain's house -to his chambers in the Circle I would meet as many as a dozen knots of -people. Mr. Claude was one of the few patriots who reaped reward out of -the disturbance, for his inn was crowded. The Assembly met, appointed -committees to correspond with the other colonies, and was prorogued -once and again. Many a night I sat up until the small hours copying -out letters to the committees of Virginia, and Pennsylvania, and -Massachusetts. The gentlemen were wont to dine at the Coffee House, and -I would sit near the foot of the table, taking notes of their plans. -'Twas so I met many men of distinction from the other colonies. Colonel -Washington came once. He was grown a greater man than ever, and I -thought him graver than when I had last seen him. I believe a trait of -this gentleman was never to forget a face. - -"How do you, Richard?" said he. How I reddened when he called me so -before all the committee. "I have heard your story, and it does you vast -credit. And the gentlemen tell me you are earning laurels, sir." - -That first winter of the tea troubles was cold and wet with us, and the -sun, as if in sympathy with the times, rarely showed his face. Early in -February our apprehensions concerning Mr. Swain's health were realized. -One day, without a word to any one, he went to his bed, where Patty -found him. And I ran all the way to Dr. Leiden's. The doctor looked at -him, felt his pulse and his chest, and said nothing. But he did not rest -that night, nor did Patty or I. - -Thus I came to have to do with the good barrister's private affairs. I -knew that he was a rich man, as riches went in our province, but I had -never tried to guess at his estate. I confess the sums he had paid out -in Tom's behalf frightened me. With the advice of Mr. Bordley and -Mr. Lloyd I managed his money as best I could, but by reason of -the non-importation resolutions there was little chance for good -investments,--no cargoes coming and few going. I saw, indeed, that -buying the Talbot estate had been a fortunate step, since the quantities -of wheat we grew there might be disposed of in America. - -When Dr. Leiden was still coming twice a day to Gloucester Street, Mr. -Tom must needs get into a scrape with one of the ladies of the theatre, -and come to me in the Circle chambers for one hundred pounds. I told -him, in despair, that I had no authority to pay out his father's money. -"And so you have become master, sure enough!" he cried, in a passion. -For he was desperate. "You have worked your way in vastly well, egad, -with your Whig committee meetings and speeches. And now he is on his -back, and you have possession, you choose to cut me off. 'Slife, I know -what will be coming next!" - -I pulled him into Mr. Swain's private room, where we would be free of -the clerks. "Yes, I am master here," I replied, sadly enough, as he -stood sullenly before me. "I should think you would be ashamed to own -it. When I came to your father I was content to be overseer in Talbot, -and thankful for his bounty. 'Tis no fault of mine, but your disgrace, -that his son is not managing his business, and supporting him in the -rights of his country. I am not very old, Tom. A year older than you, I -believe. But I have seen enough of life to prophesy your end and you do -not reform." - -"We are turned preacher," he says, with a sneer. - -"God forbid! But I have been in a sponging-house, and tasted the lowest -dregs. And if this country becomes free, as I think it will some day, -such as you will be driven to England, and die in the Fleet." - -"Not while my father lives," retorts he, and throws aside the oiled -silk cape with a London name upon it. The day was rainy. I groaned. My -responsibility lay heavy upon me. And this was not my first scene with -him. He continued doggedly:--"You have no right to deny me what is not -yours. 'Twill be mine one day." - -"You have no right to accuse me of thoughts that do not occur to men of -honour," I replied. "I am slower to anger than I once was, but I give -you warning now. Do you know that you will ruin your father in another -year and you continue?" - -He gave me no answer. I reached for the ledger, and turning the pages, -called off to him the sums he had spent. - -"Oh, have done, d--n it!" he cried, when I was not a third through. "Are -you or are you not to give me the money?" - -"And you are to spend it upon an actress?" I should have called her by a -worse name. - -"Actress!" he shouted. "Have you seen her in The Orphan? My soul, she -is a divinity!" Then he shifted suddenly to whining and cringing. "I am -ruined outright, Richard, if I do not get it." - -Abjectly he confessed the situation, which had in it enough material -for a scandal to set the town wagging for a month. And the weight of it -would fall; as I well knew, upon those who deserved it least. - -"I will lend you the money, or, rather, will pay it for you," I said, at -last. For I was not so foolish as to put it into his hands. "You shall -have the sum under certain conditions." - -He agreed to them before they were out of my mouth, and swore in a dozen -ways that he would repay me every farthing. He was heartily tired of the -creature, and, true to his nature, afraid of her. That night when the -play was over I went to her lodging, and after a scene too distressing -to dwell upon, bought her off. - -I sat with Mr. Swain many an hour that spring, with Patty sewing at the -window open to the garden. Often, as we talked, unnoticed by her father -she would drop her work and the tears glisten in her eyes. For the -barrister's voice was not as strong as it once was, and the cold would -not seem to lift from his chest. So this able man, who might have sat -in the seats of Maryland's high reward, was stricken when he was needed -most. - -He was permitted two visitors a day: now 'twas Mr. Carroll and Colonel -Lloyd, again Colonel Tilghman and Captain Clapsaddle, or Mr. Yaca and -Mr. Bordley. The gentlemen took turns, and never was their business so -pressing that they missed their hour. Mr. Swain read all the prints, and -in his easier days would dictate to me his views for the committee, or -a letter signed Brutes for Mr. Green to put in the Gazette. So I became -his mouthpiece at the meetings, and learned to formulate my thoughts and -to speak clearly. - -For fear of confusing this narrative, my dears, I have referred but -little to her who was in my thoughts night and day, and whose locket I -wore, throughout all those years, next my heart. I used to sit out under -the stars at Gordon's Pride, with the river lapping at my feet, and -picture her the shining centre of all the brilliant scenes I had left, -and wonder if she still thought of me. - -Nor have I mentioned that faithful correspondent, and more faithful -friend, Lord Comyn. As soon as ever I had obtained from Captain Daniel -my mother's little inheritance, I sent off the debt I owed his Lordship. -'Twas a year before I got him to receive it; he despatched the money -back once, saying that I had more need of it than he. I smiled at this, -for my Lord was never within his income, and I made no doubt he had -signed a note to cover my indebtedness. - -Every letter Comyn writ me was nine parts Dolly, and the rest of his -sheet usually taken up with Mr. Fox and his calamities: these had fallen -upon him very thick of late. Lord Holland had been forced to pay out a -hundred thousand pounds for Charles, and even this enormous sum did not -entirely free Mr. Fox from the discounters and the hounds. The reason -for this sudden onslaught was the birth of a boy to his brother Stephen, -who was heir to the title. "When they told Charles of it," Comyn wrote, -"said he, coolly: 'My brother Ste's son is a second Messiah, born for -the destruction of the Jews.'" - -I saw no definite signs, as yet, of the conversion of this prodigy, -which I so earnestly hoped for. He had quarrelled with North, lost his -place on the Admiralty, and presently the King had made him a Lord of -the Treasury, tho' more out of fear than love. Once in a while, when he -saw Comyn at Almack's, he would desire to be remembered to me, and he -always spoke of me with affection. But he could be got to write to no -one, said my Lord, with kind exaggeration; nor will he receive letters, -for fear he may get a dun. - -Alas, I got no message from Dorothy! Nor had she ever mentioned my name -to Comyn. He had not seen her for eight months after I left England, -as she had been taken to the Continent for her health. She came back to -London more ravishing than before, and (I use his Lordship's somewhat -extravagant language) her suffering had stamped upon her face even more -of character and power. She had lost much of her levity, likewise. In -short, my Lord declared, she was more of the queen than ever, and the -mystery which hung over the Vauxhall duel had served only to add to her -fame. - -Dorothy having become cognizant of Mr. Marmaduke's trickery, Chartersea -seemed to have dropped out of the race. He now spent his time very -evenly between Spa and Derresley and Paris. Hence I had so much to -be thankful for,--that with all my blunders, I had saved her from his -Grace. My Lord the Marquis of Wells was now most conspicuous amongst her -suitors. Comyn had nothing particular against this nobleman, saying that -he was a good fellow, with a pretty fortune. And here is a letter, -my dears, in which he figures, that I brought to Cordon's Pride that -spring: - - "10 SOUTH PARADE, BATH, - "March 12, 1774. - - "DEAR RICHARD:--Miss Manners has come to Bath, with a train behind - her longer than that which followed good Queen Anne hither, when she - made this Gehenna the fashion. Her triumphal entry last Wednesday - was announced by such a peal of the abbey bells as must have cracked - the metal (for they have not rung since) and started Beau Nash - a-cursing where he lies under the floor. Next came her serenade by - the band. Mr. Marmaduke swore they would never have done, and - squirmed and grinned like Punch when he thought of the fee, for he - had hoped to get off with a crown, I warrant you. You should have - seen his face when they would accept no fee at all for the beauty! - Some wag has writ a verse about it, which was printed, and has set - the whole pump-room laughing this morning. - - "She was led out by Wells in the Seasons last night. As Spring she - is too bewildering for my pen,--all primrose and white, with the - flowers in her blue-black hair. Had Sir Joshua seen her, he would - never rest content till he should have another portrait. The Duc de - Lauzun, who contrived to get two dances, might give you a - description in a more suitable language than English. And there was - a prodigious deal of jealousy among the fair ones on the benches, - you may be sure, and much jaundiced comment. - - "Some half dozen of us adorers have a mess at the Bear, and have - offered up a prize for the most appropriate toast on the beauty. - This is in competition with Mrs. Miller. Have you not heard of her - among your tobacco-hills? Horry calls her Mrs. 'Calliope' Miller. - At her place near here, Bath Easton Villa, she has set up a Roman - vase bedecked with myrtle, and into this we drop our bouts-rimes. - Mrs. Calliope has a ball every Thursday, when the victors are - crowned. T'other day the theme was 'A Buttered Muffin,' and her - Grace of Northumberland was graciously awarded the prize. In faith, - that theme taxed our wits at the Bear,--how to weave Miss Dolly's - charms into a verse on a buttered muffin. I shall not tire you with - mine. Storer's deserved to win, and we whisper that Mrs. Calliope - ruled it out through spite. 'When Phyllis eats,' so it began, and I - vow 'twas devilish ingenious. - - "We do nothing but play lasquenet and tennis, and go to the - assembly, and follow Miss Dolly into Gill's, the pastry-cook's, - where she goes every morning to take a jelly. The ubiquitous Wells - does not give us much chance. He writes 'vers de societe' with the - rest, is high in Mr. Marmaduke's favour, which alone is enough to - damn his progress. I think she is ill of the sight of him. - - "Albeit she does not mourn herself into a tree, I'll take oath your - Phyllis is true to you, Richard, and would live with you gladly in a - thatched hut and you asked her. Write me more news of yourself. - - "Your ever affectionate - "COMYN - - - "P.S. I have had news of you through Mr. Worthington, of your - colony, who is just arrived here. He tells me that you - have gained a vast reputation for your plantation, and likewise that - you are thought much of by the Whig wiseacres, and that you hold - many seditious offices. He does not call them so. Since your - modesty will not permit you to write me any of these things, I have - been imagining you driving slaves with a rawhide, and seeding - runaway convicts to the mines. Mr. W. is even now paying his - respects to Miss Manners, and I doubt not trumpeting your praises - there, for he seems to like you. So I have asked him to join the - Bear mess. One more unfortunate! - - "P.S. I was near forgetting the news about Charles Fox. He sends - you his love, and tells me to let you know that he has been turned - out of North's house for good and all. He is sure you will be - cursed happy over it, and says that you predicted he would go over - to the Whigs. I can scarce believe that he will. North took a - whole week to screw up His courage, h-s M-j-sty pricking him every - day. And then he wrote this: - - "'Sir, his Majesty has thought proper to order a new Commission of - the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not see your name.' Poor - Charles! He is now without money or place, but as usual appears to - worry least of all of us, and still reads his damned Tasso for - amusement. - "C." - -Perchance he was to be the Saint Paul of English politics, after all. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. LIBERTY LOSES A FRIEND - -Mr. Bordley's sloop took Mr. Swain to Gordon's Pride in May, and placed -him in the big room overlooking the widening river. There he would lie -all day long, staring through the leaves at the water, or listening to -the sweet music of his daughter's voice as she read from the pompous -prints of the time. Gentlemen continued to come to the plantation, for -the barrister's wisdom was sorely missed at the councils. One day, as -I rode in from the field, I found Colonel Lloyd just arrived from -Philadelphia, sipping sangaree on the lawn and mopping himself with his -handkerchief. His jolly face was troubled. He waved his hand at me. - -"Well, Richard," says he, "we children are to have our first whipping. -At least one of us. And the rest are resolved to defy our parent." - -"Boston, Mr. Lloyd?" I asked. - -"Yes, Boston," he replied; "her port is closed, and we are forbid any -intercourse with her until she comes to her senses. And her citizens -must receive his gracious Majesty's troopers into their houses. And if a -man kill one of them by any chance, he is to go to England to be tried. -And there is more quite as bad." - -"'Tis bad enough!" I cried, flinging myself down. And Patty gave me a -glass in silence. - -"Ay, but you must hear all," said he; "our masters are of a mind to -do the thing thoroughly. Canada is given some score of privileges. Her -French Roman Catholics, whom we fought not long since, are thrown a -sop, and those vast territories between the lakes and the Ohio and -Mississippi are given to Quebec as a price for her fidelity. And so, if -the worst comes to worst, George's regiments will have a place to land -against us." - -Such was the news, and though we were some hundreds of miles from -Massachusetts, we felt their cause as our own. There was no need of -the appeal which came by smoking horses from Philadelphia, for the -indignation of our people was roused to the highest pitch. Now Mr. Swain -had to take to his bed from the excitement. - -This is not a history, my dears, as I have said. And time is growing -short. I shall pass over that dreary summer of '74. It required no very -keen eye to see the breakers ahead, and Mr. Bordley's advice to provide -against seven years of famine did not go unheeded. War was the last -thing we desired. We should have been satisfied with so little, we -colonies! And would have voted the duties ten times over had our rights -been respected. Should any of you doubt this, you have but to read the -"Address to the King" of our Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. -The quarrel was so petty, and so easy of mending, that you of this -generation may wonder why it was allowed to run. I have tried to tell -you that the head of a stubborn, selfish, and wilful monarch blocked the -way to reconciliation. King George the Third is alone to blame for that -hatred of race against race which already hath done so much evil. And -I pray God that a great historian may arise whose pen will reveal the -truth, and reconcile at length those who are, and should be, brothers. - -By October, that most beautiful month of all the year in Maryland, we -were again in Annapolis: One balmy day 'twas a Friday, I believe, and a -gold and blue haze hung over the Severn--Mr. Chase called in Gloucester -Street to give the barrister news of the Congress, which he had lately -left. As he came down the stairs he paused for a word with me in the -library, and remarked sadly upon Mr. Swain's condition. "He looks like a -dying man, Richard," said he, "and we can ill afford to lose him." - -Even as we sat talking in subdued tones, the noise of a distant -commotion arose. We had scarce started to our feet, Mr. Chase and I, -when the brass knocker resounded, and Mr. Hammond was let in. His wig -was awry, and his face was flushed. - -"I thought to find you here," he said to Mr. Chase. "The Anne Arundel -Committee is to meet at once, and we desire to have you with us." -Perceiving our blank faces, he added: "The 'Peggy Stewart' is in this -morning with over a ton of tea aboard, consigned to the Williams's." - -The two jumped into a chaise, and I followed afoot, stopped at every -corner by some excited acquaintance; so that I had the whole story, -and more, ere I reached Church Street. The way was blocked before the -committee rooms, and 'twas said that the merchants, Messrs. Williams, -and Captain Jackson of the brig, were within, pleading their cause. - -Presently the news leaked abroad that Mr. Anthony Stewart, the brig's -owner, had himself paid the duty on the detested plant. Some hundreds of -people were elbowing each other in the street, for the most part quiet -and anxious, until Mr. Hammond appeared and whispered to a man at the -door. In all my life before I had never heard the hum of an angry crowd. -The sound had something ominous in it, like the first meanings of a wind -that is to break off great trees at their trunks. Then some one shouted: -"To Hanover Street! To Hanover Street! We'll have him tarred and -feathered before the sun is down!" The voice sounded strangely like -Weld's. They charged at this cry like a herd of mad buffalo, the weaker -ones trampled under foot or thrust against the wall. The windows of Mr. -Aikman's shop were shattered. I ran with the leaders, my stature and -strength standing me in good stead more than once, and as we twisted -into Northwest Street I took a glance at the mob behind me, and great -was my anxiety at not being able to descry one responsible person. - -Mr. Stewart's house stood, and stands to-day, amid trim gardens, in -plain sight of the Severn. Arriving there, the crowd massed in front of -it, some of the boldest pressing in at the gate and spreading over the -circle of lawn enclosed by the driveway. They began to shout hoarsely, -with what voices they had left, for Mr. Stewart to come out, calling him -names not to be spoken, and swearing they would show him how traitors -were to be served. I understood then the terror of numbers, and -shuddered. A chandler, a bold and violent man, whose leather was covered -with grease, already had his foot on the steps, when the frightened -servants slammed the door in his face, and closed the lower windows. In -vain I strained my eyes for some one who might have authority with them. -They began to pick up stones, though none were thrown. - -Suddenly a figure appeared at an upper window,--a thin and wasted woman -dressed in white, with sad, sweet features. It was Mrs. Stewart. Without -flinching she looked down upon the upturned faces; but a mob of that -kind has no pity. Their leaders were the worst class in our province, -being mostly convicts who had served their terms of indenture. They -continued to call sullenly for "the traitor." Then the house door -opened, and the master himself appeared. He was pale and nervous, and -no wonder; and his voice shook as he strove to make himself heard. His -words were drowned immediately by shouts of "Seize him! Seize the d--d -traitor!" "A pot and a coat of hot tar!" - -Those who were nearest started forward, and I with them. With me 'twas -the decision of an instant. I beat the chandler up the steps, and took -stand in front of the merchant, and I called out to them to fall back. - -To my astonishment they halted. The skirts of the crowd were now come to -the foot of the little porch. I faced them with my hand on Mr. Stewart's -arm, without a thought of what to do next, and expecting violence. There -was a second's hush. Then some one cried out: - -"Three cheers for Richard Carvel!" - -They gave them with a will that dumfounded me. - -"My friends," said I, when I had got my wits, "this is neither the -justice nor the moderation for which our province is noted. You have -elected your committee of your free wills, and they have claims before -you." - -"Ay, ay, the committee!" they shouted. "Mr. Carvel is right. Take him to -the Committee!" - -Mr. Stewart raised his hand. - -"My friends," he began, as I had done, "when you have learned the -truth, you will not be so hasty to blame me for an offence of which I am -innocent. The tea was not for me. The brig was in a leaky and dangerous -state and had fifty souls aboard her. I paid the duty out of humanity--" - -He had come so far, when they stopped him. - -"Oh, a vile Tory!" they shouted. "He is conniving with the Council. -'Twas put up between them." And they followed this with another volley -of hard names, until I feared that his chance was gone. - -"You would best go before the Committee, Mr. Stewart," I said. - -"I will go with Mr. Carvel, my friends," he cried at once. And he -invited me into the house whilst he ordered his coach. I preferred to -remain outside. - -I asked them if they would trust me with Mr. Stewart to Church Street. - -"Yes, yes, Mr. Carvel, we know you," said several. "He has good cause to -hate Tories," called another, with a laugh. I knew the voice. - -"For shame, Weld," I cried. And I saw McNeir, who was a stanch friend of -mine, give him a cuff to send him spinning. - -To my vast satisfaction they melted away, save only a few of the idlest -spirits, who hung about the gate, and cheered as we drove off. Mr. -Stewart was very nervous, and profuse in his gratitude. I replied that -I had acted only as would have any other responsible citizen. On the way -he told me enough of his case to convince me that there was much to -be said on his side, but I thought it the better part of wisdom not to -commit myself. The street in front of the committee rooms was empty, and -I was informed that a town meeting had been called immediately at the -theatre in West Street. And I advised Mr. Stewart to attend. But through -anxiety or anger, or both, he was determined not to go, and drove back -to his house without me. - -I had got as far as St. Anne's, halfway to the theatre, when it suddenly -struck me that Mr. Swain must be waiting for news. With a twinge I -remembered what Mr. Chase had said about the barrister's condition, and -I hurried back to Gloucester Street, much to the surprise of those I met -on their way to the meeting. I was greatly relieved, when I arrived, to -find Patty on the porch. I knew she had never been there were her father -worse. After a word with her and her mother, I went up the stairs. - -It was the hour for the barrister's nap. But he was awake, lying back -on the pillows, with his eyes half closed. He was looking out into the -garden, which was part orchard, now beginning to shrivel and to brown -with the first touch of frosts. - -"That is you, Richard?" he inquired, without moving. "What is going -forward to-day?" - -I toned down the news, so as not to excite him, and left out the -occurrence in Hanover Street. He listened with his accustomed interest, -but when I had done he asked no questions, and lay for a long time -silent. Then he begged me to bring my chair nearer. - -"Richard,--my son," said he, with an evident effort, "I have never -thanked you for your devotion to me and mine through the best years of -your life. It shall not go unrewarded, my lad." - -It seemed as if my heart stood still with the presage of what was to -come. - -"May God reward you, sir!" I said. - -"I have wished to speak to you," he continued, "and I may not have -another chance. I have arranged with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, to take -your cause against your uncle, so that you will lose nothing when I am -gone. And you will see, in my table in the library, that I have left -my property in your hands, with every confidence in your integrity, and -ability to care for my family, even as I should have done." - -I could not speak at once. A lump rose in my throat, for I had come to -look upon him as a father. His honest dealings, his charity, of which -the world knew nothing, and his plain and unassuming ways had inspired -in me a kind of worship. I answered, as steadily as I might: - -"I believe I am too inexperienced for such a responsibility, Mr. Swain. -Would it not be better that Mr. Bordley or Mr. Lloyd should act?" - -"No, no," he said; "I am not a man to do things unadvisedly, or to let -affection get the better of my judgment, where others dear to me are -concerned. I know you, Richard Carvel. Scarce an action of yours has -escaped my eye, though I have said nothing. You have been through the -fire, and are of the kind which comes out untouched. You will have Judge -Bordley's advice, and Mr. Carroll's. And they are too busy with the -affairs of the province to be burdened as my executors. But," he added -a little more strongly, "if what I fear is coming, Mr. Bordley will -take the trust in your absence. If we have war, Richard, you will not be -content to remain at home, nor would I wish it." - -I did not reply. - -"You will do what I ask?" he said. - -"I would refuse you nothing, Mr. Swain," I answered. "But I have heavy -misgivings." - -He sighed. "And now, if it were not for Tom, I might die content," he -said. - -If it were not for Tom! The full burden of the trust began to dawn upon -me then. Presently I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I -hardly caught the words. - -"In our youth, Richard," he was saying, "the wrath of the Almighty is -but so many words to most of us. When I was little more than a lad, I -committed a sin of which I tremble now to think. And I was the fool to -imagine, when I amended my life, that God had forgotten. His punishment -is no heavier than I deserve. But He alone knows what He has made me -suffer." - -I felt that I had no right to be there. - -"That is why I have paid Tom's debts," he continued; "I cannot cast -off my son. I have reasoned, implored, and appealed in vain. He is like -Reuben,--his resolutions melt in an hour. And I have pondered day and -night what is to be done for him." - -"Is he to have his portion?" I asked. Indeed, the thought of the -responsibility of Tom Swain overwhelmed me. - -"Yes, he is to have it," cried Mr. Swain, with a violence to bring on a -fit of coughing. "Were I to leave it in trust for a time, he would have -it mortgaged within a year. He is to have his portion, but not a penny -additional." - -He lay for a long time breathing deeply, I watching him. Then, as he -reached out and took my hand, I knew by some instinct what was to -come. I summoned all my self-command to meet his eye. I knew that the -malicious and unthinking gossip of the town had reached him, and that he -had received it in the simple faith of his hopes. - -"One thing more, my lad," he said, "the dearest wish of all--that you -will marry Patty. She is a good girl, Richard. And I have thought," he -added with hesitation, "I have thought that she loves you, though her -lips have never opened on that subject." - -So the blow fell. I turned away, for to save my life the words would not -come. He missed the reason of my silence. - -"I understand and honour your scruples," he went on. His kindness was -like a knife. - -"No, I have had none, Mr. Swain," I exclaimed. For I would not be -thought a hypocrite. - -There I stopped. A light step sounded in the hall, and Patty came in -upon us. Her colour at once betrayed her understanding. To my infinite -relief her father dropped my fingers, and asked cheerily if there was -any news from the town meeting. - -On the following Wednesday, with her flag flying and her sails set, the -Peggy Stewart was run ashore on Windmill Point. She rose, a sacrifice to -Liberty, in smoke to heaven, before the assembled patriots of our city. - -That very night a dear friend to Liberty passed away. He failed so -suddenly that Patty had no time to call for aid, and when the mother -had been carried in, his spirit was flown. We laid him high on the hill -above the creek, in the new lot he had bought and fenced around. The -stone remains: - - HERE LIETH - - HENRY SWAIN, BARRISTER. - BORN MAY 13, 1730 (O.S.); - DIED OCTOBER 19, 1774. - Fidus Amicis atque Patrice. - -The simple inscription, which speaks volumes to those who knew him, was -cut after the Revolution. He was buried with the honours of a statesman, -which he would have been had God spared him to serve the New Country -which was born so soon after his death. - - - - -Volume 8. - - - - -CHAPTER L. FAREWELL TO GORDON'S - -I cannot bear to recall my misery of mind after Mr. Swain's death. One -hope had lightened all the years of my servitude. For, when I examined -my soul, I knew that it was for Dorothy I had laboured. And every letter -that came from Comyn telling me she was still free gave me new heart -for my work. By some mystic communion--I know not what--I felt that she -loved me yet, and despite distance and degree. I would wake of a morning -with the knowledge of it, and be silent for half the day with some -particle of a dream in my head, lingering like the burden of a song with -its train of memories. - -So, in the days that followed, I scarce knew myself. For a while (I -shame to write it) I avoided that sweet woman who had made my comfort -her care, whose father had taken me when I was homeless. The good in me -cried out, but the flesh rebelled. - -Poor Patty! Her grief for her father was pathetic to see. Weeks passed -in which she scarcely spoke a word. And I remember her as she sat in -church Sundays, the whiteness of her face enhanced by the crape she -wore, and a piteous appeal in her gray eyes. My own agony was nigh -beyond endurance, my will swinging like a pendulum from right to wrong, -and back again. Argue as I might that I had made the barrister no -promise, conscience allowed no difference. I was in despair at the trick -fate had played me; at the decree that of all women I must love her -whose sphere was now so far removed from mine. For Patty had character -and beauty, and every gift which goes to make man's happiness and to -kindle his affections. - -Her sorrow left her more womanly than ever. And after the first sharp -sting of it was deadened, I noticed a marked reserve in her intercourse -with me. I knew then that she must have strong suspicions of her -father's request. Speak I could not soon after the sad event, but I -strove hard that she should see no change in my conduct. - -Before Christmas we went to the Eastern Shore. In Annapolis fife and -drum had taken the place of fiddle and clarion; militia companies were -drilling in the empty streets; despatches were arriving daily from the -North; and grave gentlemen were hurrying to meetings. But if the war was -to come, I must settle what was to be done at Gordon's Pride with all -possible speed. It was only a few days after our going there, that I -rode into Oxford with a black cockade in my hat Patty had made me, and -the army sword Captain Jack had given Captain Daniel at my side. For -I had been elected a lieutenant in the Oxford company, of which Percy -Singleton was captain. - -So passed that winter, the darkest of my life. One soft spring day, when -the birds were twittering amid new-born leaves, and the hyacinths and -tulips in Patty's garden were coming to their glory, Master Tom rode -leisurely down the drive at Gordon's Pride. That was a Saturday, the -29th of April, 1775. The news which had flown southward, night and day -alike, was in no hurry to run off his tongue; he had been lolling on the -porch for half an hour before he told us of the bloodshed between the -minute-men of Massachusetts and the British regulars, of the rout of -Percy's panting redcoats from Concord to Boston. Tom added, with the -brutal nonchalance which characterized his dealings with his mother and -sister, that he was on his way to Philadelphia to join a company. - -The poor invalid was carried up the stairs in a faint by Banks and -Romney. Patty, with pale face and lips compressed, ran to fetch the -hartshorn. But Master Tom remained undisturbed. - -"I suppose you are going, Richard," he remarked affably. For he treated -me with more consideration than his family. "We shall ride together," -said he. - -"We ride different ways, and to different destinations," I replied -dryly. "I go to serve my country, and you to fight against it." - -"I think the King is right," he answered sullenly. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon," I remarked, and rose. "Then you have studied -the question since last I saw you." - -"No, by G-d!" he cried, "and I never will. I do not want to know your -d--d principles--or grievances, or whatever they are. We were living an -easy life, in the plenty of money, and nothing to complain of. You take -it all away, with your cursed cant--" - -I left him railing and swearing. And that was the last I saw of Tom -Swain. When I returned from a final survey of the plantation; and a talk -with Percy Singleton, he had ridden North again. - -I found Patty alone in the parlour. Her work (one of my own stockings -she was darning) lay idle in her lap, and in her eyes were the unshed -tears which are the greatest suffering of women. I sat down beside her -and called her name. She did not seem to hear me. - -"Patty!" - -She started. And my courage ebbed. - -"Are you going to the war--to leave us, Richard?" she faltered. - -"I fear there is no choice, Patty," I answered, striving hard to keep my -own voice steady. "But you will be well looked after. Ivie Rawlinson is -to be trusted, and Mr. Bordley has promised to keep an eye upon you." - -She took up the darning mechanically. - -"I shall not speak a word to keep you, Richard. He would have wished -it," she said softly. "And every strong arm in the colonies will be -needed. We shall think of you, and pray for you daily." - -I cast about for a cheerful reply. - -"I think when they discover how determined we are, they will revoke -their measures in a hurry. Before you know it, Patty, I shall be back -again making the rounds in my broad rim, and reading to you out of -Captain Cook." - -It was a pitiful attempt. She shook her head sadly. The tears were come -now, and she was smiling through them. The sorrow of that smile! - -"I have something to say to you before I go, Patty," I said. The words -stuck. I knew that there must be no pretence in that speech. It must be -true as my life after, the consequence of it. "I have something to -ask you, and I do not speak without your father's consent. Patty, if I -return, will you be my wife?" - -The stocking slipped unheeded to the floor. For a moment she sat -transfixed, save for the tumultuous swelling of her breast. Then she -turned and gazed earnestly into my face, and the honesty of her eyes -smote me. For the first time I could not meet them honestly with my own. - -"Richard, do you love me?" she asked. - -I bowed my head. I could not answer that. And for a while there was no -sound save that of the singing of the frogs in the distant marsh. - -Presently I knew that she was standing at my side. I felt her hand laid -upon my shoulder. - -"Is--is it Dorothy?" she said gently. - -Still I could not answer. Truly, the bitterness of life, as the joy of -it, is distilled in strong drops. - -"I knew," she continued, "I have known ever since that autumn morning -when I went to you as you saddled--when I dreaded that you would leave -us. Father asked you to marry me, the day you took Mr. Stewart from the -mob. How could you so have misunderstood me, Richard?" - -I looked up in wonder. The sweet cadence in her tone sprang from a -purity not of this earth. They alone who have consecrated their days to -others may utter it. And the light upon her face was of the same source. -It was no will of mine brought me to my feet. But I was not worthy to -touch her. - -"I shall make another prayer, beside that for your safety, Richard," she -said. - -In the morning she waved me a brave farewell from the block where she -had stood so often as I rode afield, when the dawn was in the sky. -The invalid mother sat in her chair within the door; the servants were -gathered on the lawn, and Ivie Rawlinson and Banks lingered where they -had held my stirrup. That picture is washed with my own tears. - -The earth was praising God that Sunday as I rode to Mr. Bordley's. And -as it is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven, I felt as if I were in -church. - -I arrived at Wye Island in season to dine with the good judge and his -family, and there I made over to his charge the property of Patty and -her mother. The afternoon we spent in sober talk, Mr. Bordley giving me -much sound advice, and writing me several letters of recommendation to -gentlemen in Congress. His conduct was distinguished by even more of -kindness and consideration than he had been wont to show me. - -In the evening I walked out alone, skirting the acres of Carvel Hall, -each familiar landmark touching the quick of some memory of other days. -Childhood habit drew me into the path to Wilmot House. I came upon it -just as the sunlight was stretching level across the Chesapeake, and -burning its windows molten red. I had been sitting long on the stone -steps, when the gaunt figure of McAndrews strode toward me out of the -dusk. - -"God be gude to us, it is Mr. Richard!" he cried. "I hae na seen ye're -bonny face these muckle years, sir, sync ye cam' back frae ae sight o' -the young mistress." (I had met him in Annapolis then.) "An' will ye be -aff to the wars?" - -I told him yes. That I had come for a last look at the old place before -I left. - -He sighed. "Ye're vera welcome, sir." Then he added: "Mr. Bordley's -gi'en me a fair notion o' yere management at Gordon's. The judge is -thinking there'll be nane ither lad t' hand a candle to ye." - -"And what news do you hear from London?" I asked, cutting him short. - -"Ill uncos, sir," he answered, shaking his head with violence. He had -indeed but a sorry tale for my ear, and one to make my heart heavier -than it was. McAndrews opened his mind to me, and seemed the better for -it. How Mr. Marmaduke was living with the establishment they wrote of -was more than the honest Scotchman could imagine. There was a country -place in Sussex now, said he, that was the latest. And drafts were -coming in before the wheat was in the ear; and the plantations of -tobacco on the Western Shore had been idle since the non-exportation, -and were mortgaged to their limit to Mr. Willard. Money was even loaned -on the Wilmot House estate. McAndrews had a shrewd suspicion that -neither Mrs. Manners nor Miss Dorothy knew aught of this state of -affairs. - -"Mr. Richard," he said earnestly, as he bade me good-by, "I kennt Mr. -Manners's mind when he lea'd here. There was a laird in't, sir, an' a -fortune. An' unless these come soon, I'm thinking I can spae th' en'." - -In truth, a much greater fool than McAndrews might have predicted that -end. - -On Monday Judge Bordley accompanied me as far as Dingley's tavern, and -showed much emotion at parting. - -"You need have no fears for your friends at Gordon's Pride, Richard," -said he. "And when the General comes back, I shall try to give him a -good account of my stewardship." - -The General! That title brought old Stanwix's cobwebbed prophecy into my -head again. Here, surely, was the war which he had foretold, and I ready -to embark in it. - -Why not the sea, indeed? - - - -CHAPTER LI. HOW AN IDLE PROPHECY CAME TO PASS - -Captain Clapsaddle not being at his lodgings, I rode on to the Coffee -House to put up my horse. I was stopped by Mr. Claude. - -"Why, Mr. Carvel," says he, "I thought you on the Eastern Shore. There -is a gentleman within will be mightily tickled to see you, or else his -protestations are lies, which they may very well be. His name? Now, 'Pon -my faith, it was Jones--no more." - -This thing of being called for at the Coffee House stirred up unpleasant -associations. - -"What appearance does the man make?" I demanded. - -"Merciful gad!" mine host exclaimed; "once seen, never forgotten, and -once heard, never forgotten. He quotes me Thomson, and he tells me of -his estate in Virginia." - -The answer was not of a sort to allay my suspicions. - -"Then he appears to be a landowner?" said I. - -"'Ods! Blest if I know what he is," says Mr. Claude. "He may be -anything, an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to -strike the eye and hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and -thickset, and some five feet eight inches--full six inches under your -own height. And he comes asking for you as if you owned the town between -you. 'Send a fellow to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good -host!' says he, with a snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news -of you, he is prodigiously affected, and cries--but here's my gentleman -now!" - -I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend -and benefactor, Captain John Paul! - -"Ahoy, ahoy!" cries he. "Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at -last." - -Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms. - -"Hold, hold, Richard!" he gasped. "My ribs, man! Leave me some breath -that I may tell you how glad I am to see you." - -"Mr. Jones!" I said, holding him out, "now where the devil got you -that?" - -"Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you," he answered, smiling. -"My poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must -have three names at the least." - -I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter. - -"But Jones!" I cried. "'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your -imagination left you, captain?" - -"Republican simplicity, sir," says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I -laughed the more. - -"Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar," said I. "A landed -gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit -under that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket." - -He shook his head, looking up at me with affection. - -"You might have guessed better," he answered. "All of quality I have -about me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch." - -This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing -in my ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the -captain's and pulled him toward the Coffee House door. - -"Come," I said, "you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall -be merry to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the -colonies." I commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he -took his seat opposite me I marked that he had grown heavier and more -browned. But his eye had the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore. -And first I upbraided him for not having writ me. - -"I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain," said I; -"and I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you -in Mr. Orchardson's care." - -"Orchardson died before I had made one voyage," he replied, "and -the Betsy changed owners. But I did not forget you, Richard, and was -resolved but now not to leave Maryland until I had seen you. But I burn -to hear of you," he added. "I have had an inkling of your story from the -landlord. So your grandfather is dead, and that blastie, your uncle, of -whom you told me on the John, is in possession." - -He listened to my narrative keenly, but with many interruptions. And -when I was done, he sighed. - -"You are always finding friends, Richard," said he; "no matter what -your misfortunes, they are ever double discounted. As for me; I am like -Fulmer in Mr. Cumberland's 'West Indian': 'I have beat through every -quarter of the compass; I have bellowed for freedom; I have offered to -serve my country; I have'--I am engaging to betray it. No, Scotland -is no longer my country, and so I cannot betray her. It is she who has -betrayed me." - -He fell into a short mood of dejection. And, indeed, I could not but -reflect that much of the character fitted him like a jacket. Not the -betrayal of his country. He never did that, no matter how roundly they -accused him of it afterward. - -To lift him, I cried: - -"You were one of my first friends, Captain Paul" (I could not stomach -the Jones); "but for you I should now be a West Indian, and a miserable -one, the slave of some unmerciful hidalgo. Here's that I may live to -repay you!" - -"And while we are upon toasts," says he, bracing immediately, "I give -you the immortal Miss Manners! Her beauty has dwelt unfaded in my memory -since I last beheld her, aboard the Betsy." Remarking the pain in my -face, he added, with a concern which may have been comical: "And she is -not married?" - -"Unless she is lately gone to Gretna, she is not," I replied, trying to -speak lightly. - -"Alack! I knew it," he exclaimed. "And if there's any prophecy in my -bones, she'll be Mrs. Carvel one of these days." - -"Well captain," I said abruptly, "the wheel has gone around since I saw -you. Now it is you who are the gentleman, while I am a factor. Is it the -bliss you pictured?" - -I suspected that his acres were not as broad, nor his produce as -salable, as those of Mount Vernon. - -"To speak truth, I am heartily tired of that life," said he. "There is -little glory in raising nicotia, and sipping bumbo, and cursing negroes. -Ho for the sea!" he cried. "The salt sea, and the British prizes. Give -me a tight frigate that leaves a singing wake. Mark me, Richard," he -said, a restless gleam coning into his dark eyes, "stirring times are -here, and a chance for all of us to make a name." For so it seemed ever -to be with him. - -"They are black times, I fear," I answered. - -"Black!" he said. "No, glorious is your word. And we are to have an -upheaval to throw many of us to the top." - -"I would rather the quarrel were peacefully settled," said I, gravely. -"For my part, I want no distinction that is to come out of strife and -misery." - -He regarded me quizzically. - -"You are grown an hundred years old since I pulled you out of the sea," -says he. "But we shall have to fight for our liberties. Here is a glass -to the prospect!" - -"And so you are now an American?" I said curiously. - -"Ay, strake and keelson,--as good a one as though I had got my sap in -the Maine forests. A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon -modern civilization. And I have here," he continued, tapping his pocket, -"some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which -Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended. To speak truth, Richard, I -am off to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations. And I was -resolved to stop here even till I secured your company. We shall sweep -the seas together, and so let George beware!" - -I smiled. But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such -a captain. However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army, -let alone a navy. - -"And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack -either for long?" he demanded, his eye flashing. - -"Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John," I -said. - -"You were born for the sea, Richard," he exclaimed, raising his glass -high. "And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and -handiness than any merchant's mate I ever sailed with. The more -gentlemen get commissions, the better will be our new service." - -At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes -to say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me. I -persuaded John Paul to descend with me. We found Captain Daniel seated -with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase. - -"Captain," I said to my old friend, "I have a rare joy this day in -making known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you -a score of times. He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose -charity took me to London, and who got no other reward for his faith -than three weeks in a debtors' prison. For his honour, as I have told -you, would allow him to accept none, nor his principles to take the -commission in the Royal Navy which Mr. Fox offered him." - -Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure. "Faith, Mr. -Jones," he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows, -"this is well met, indeed. I have been longing these many years for a -chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and -gone to express my gratitude." - -"I have my reward now, captain," replied John Paul; "a sight of you is -to have Richard's whole life revealed. And what says Mr. Congreve? - - "'For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, - And tho' a late, a sure reward succeeds.' - -"Tho' I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous. And you, -who know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his -companionship." - -I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him -with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of -their faces. - -"Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs," I -explained. - -"And do you find it more to your taste than seafaring, Mr. Jones?" -inquired Mr. Chase. - -This brought forth a most vehement protest, and another quotation. - -"Why, sir," he cried, "to be - - 'Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, - To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,' - -is an animal's existence. I have thrown it over, sir, with a right good -will, and am now on my way to Philadelphia to obtain a commission in the -navy soon to be born." - -Mr. Chase smiled. John Paul little suspected that he was a member of the -Congress. - -"This is news indeed, Mr. Jones," he said. "I have yet to hear of the -birth of this infant navy, for which we have not yet begun to make -swaddling clothes." - -"We are not yet an infant state, sir," Mr. Carroll put in, with a shade -of rebuke. For Maryland was well content with the government she -had enjoyed, and her best patriots long after shunned the length of -secession. "I believe and pray that the King will come to his senses. -And as for the navy, it is folly. How can we hope to compete with -England on the sea?" - -"All great things must have a beginning sir," replied John Paul, -launching forth at once, nothing daunted by such cold conservatism. -"What Israelite brickmaker of Pharaoh's dreamed of Solomon's temple? -Nay, Moses himself had no conception of it. And God will send us -our pillars of cloud and of fire. We must be reconciled to our great -destiny, Mr. Carroll. No fight ever was won by man or nation content -with half a victory. We have forests to build an hundred armadas, and I -will command a fleet and it is given me." - -The gentlemen listened in astonishment. - -"I' faith, I believe you, sir," cried Captain Daniel, with admiration. - -The others, too, were somehow fallen under the spell of this remarkable -individuality. "What plan would you pursue, sir?" asked Mr. Chase, -betraying more interest than he cared to show. - -"What plan, sir!" said Captain John Paul, those wonderful eyes of his -alight. "In the first place, we Americans build the fastest ships in the -world,--yours of the Chesapeake are as fleet as any. Here, if I am not -mistaken, one hundred and eighty-two were built in the year '71. -They are idle now. To them I would issue letters of marque, to harry -England's trade. From Carolina to Maine we have the wood and iron to -build cruisers, in harbours that may not easily be got at. And skilled -masters and seamen to elude the enemy." - -"But a navy must be organized, sir. It must be an unit," objected -Mr. Carroll. "And you would not for many years have force enough, or -discipline enough, to meet England's navy." - -"I would never meet it, sir," he replied instantly. "That would be the -height of folly. I would divide our forces into small, swift-sailing -squadrons, of strength sufficient to repel his cruisers. And I would -carry the war straight into his unprotected ports of trade. I can name -a score of such defenceless places, and I know every shoal of their -harbours. For example, Whitehaven might be entered. That is a town of -fifty thousand inhabitants. The fleet of merchantmen might with the -greatest ease be destroyed, a contribution levied, and Ireland's coal -cut off for a winter. The whole of the shipping might be swept out of -the Clyde. Newcastle is another likely place, and in almost any of the -Irish ports valuable vessels may be found. The Baltic and West Indian -fleets are to be intercepted. I have reflected upon these matters for -years, gentlemen. They are perfectly feasible. And I'll warrant you -cannot conceive the havoc and consternation their fulfilment would -spread in England." - -If the divine power of genius ever made itself felt, 'twas on that May -evening, at candle-light, in the Annapolis Coffee House. With my own -eyes I witnessed two able and cautious statesmen of a cautious province -thrilled to the pitch of enthusiasm by this strange young man of eight -and twenty. As for good Captain Daniel, enthusiasm is but a poor word to -express his feelings. A map was sent for and spread out upon the -table. And it was a late hour when Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll went -home, profoundly impressed. Mr. Chase charged John Paul look him up in -Congress. - -The next morning I bade Captain Daniel a solemn good-by, and rode away -with John Paul to Baltimore. Thence we took stage to New Castle on -the Delaware, and were eventually landed by Mr. Tatlow's stage-boat at -Crooked Billet wharf, Philadelphia. - - A BRIEF SUMMARY, WHICH BRINGS THIS BIOGRAPHY TO THE FAMOUS - FIGHT OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD AND THE SERAPIS - - BY DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL - -Mr. Richard Carvel refers here to the narrative of his experiences in -the War of the Revolution, which he had written in the year 1805 or -1806. The insertion of that account would swell this book, already -too long, out of all proportion. Hence I take it upon myself, with -apologies, to compress it. - -Not until October of that year, 1775, was the infant navy born. Mr. -Carvel was occupied in the interval in the acquirement of practical -seamanship and the theory of maritime warfare under the most competent -of instructors, John Paul Jones. An interesting side light is thrown -upon the character of that hero by the fact that, with all his supreme -confidence in his ability, he applied to Congress only for a first -lieutenancy. This was in deference to the older men before that body. "I -hoped," said he, "in that rank to gain much useful knowledge from those -of more experience than myself." His lack of assertion for once cost him -dear. He sailed on the New Providence expedition under Commodore Hopkins -as first lieutenant of the Alfred, thirty; and he soon discovered that, -instead of gaining information, he was obliged to inform others. He -trained the men so thoroughly in the use of the great guns "that they -went through the motions of broadsides and rounds exactly as soldiers -generally perform the manual exercise." - -Captain Jones was not long in fixing the attention and earning the -gratitude of the nation, and of its Commander-in-Chief, General -Washington. While in command of the Providence, twelve four-pounders, -his successful elusions of the 'Cerberus', which hounded him, and -his escape from the 'Solebay', are too famous to be dwelt upon here. -Obtaining the Alfred, he captured and brought into Boston ten thousand -suits of uniform for Washington's shivering army. Then, by the bungling -of Congress, thirteen officers were promoted over his head. The -bitterness this act engendered in the soul of one whose thirst for -distinction was as great as Captain Jones's may be imagined. To his -everlasting credit be it recorded that he remained true to the country -to which he had dedicated his life and his talents. And it was not until -1781 that he got the justice due him. - -That the rough and bluff captains of the American service should have -regarded a man of Paul Jones's type with suspicion is not surprising. -They resented his polish and accomplishments, and could not understand -his language. Perhaps it was for this reason, as well as a reward for -his brilliant services, that he was always given a separate command. In -the summer of 1777 he was singled out for the highest gift in the power -of the United States, nothing less than that of the magnificent frigate -'Indien', then building at Amsterdam. And he was ordered to France in -command of the 'Ranger', a new ship then fitting at Portsmouth. Captain -Jones was the admiration of all the young officers in the navy, and was -immediately flooded with requests to sail with him. One of his first -acts, after receiving his command, was to apply to the Marine Committee -for Mr. Carvel. The favour was granted. - -My grandfather had earned much commendation from his superiors. He had -sailed two cruises as master's mate of the Cabot, and was then serving -as master of the Trumbull, Captain Saltonstall. This was shortly after -that frigate had captured the two British transports off New York. - -Captain Jones has been at pains to mention in his letters the services -rendered him by Mr. Carvel in fitting out the Ranger. And my grandfather -gives a striking picture of the captain. At that time the privateers, -with the larger inducements of profit they offered, were getting all the -best seamen. John Paul had but to take two turns with a man across the -dock, and he would sign papers. - -Captain Jones was the first to raise the new flag of the stars and -stripes over a man-o'-war. They got away on November 14, 1777, with a -fair crew and a poor lot of officers. Mr. Carvel had many a brush with -the mutinous first lieutenant Simpson. Family influence deterred the -captain from placing this man under arrest, and even Dr. Franklin found -trouble, some years after, in bringing about his dismissal from -the service. To add to the troubles, the Ranger proved crank and -slow-sailing; and she had only one barrel of rum aboard, which made the -men discontented. - -Bringing the official news of Burgoyne's surrender, which was to cause -King Louis to acknowledge the independence of the United States, the -Ranger arrived at Nantes, December 2. Mr. Carvel accompanied Captain -Jones to Paris, where a serious blow awaited him. The American -Commissioners informed him that the Indien had been transferred to -France to prevent her confiscation. That winter John Paul spent -striving in vain for a better ship, and imbibing tactics from the French -admirals. Incidentally, he obtained a salute for the American flag. -The cruise of the Ranger in English waters the following spring was a -striking fulfilment, with an absurdly poor and inadequate force, of the -plan set forth by John Paul Jones in the Annapolis Coffee House. His -descent upon Whitehaven spread terror and consternation broadcast -through England, and he was branded as a pirate and a traitor. Mr. -Carvel was fortunately not of the landing party on St. Mary's Isle, -which place he had last beheld in John Paul's company, on the brigantine -John, when entering Kirkcudbright. The object of that expedition, as is -well known, was to obtain the person of the Earl of Selkirk, in order to -bring about the rescue of the unfortunate Americans suffering in British -prisons. After the celebrated capture of the sloop-of-war Drake, Paul -Jones returned to France a hero. - -If Captain Jones was ambitious of personal glory, he may never, at -least, be accused of mercenary motives. The ragged crew of the Ranger -was paid in part out of his own pocket, and for a whole month he -supported the Drake's officers and men, no provision having been made -for prisoners. He was at large expense in fitting out the Ranger, and he -bought back at twice what it was worth the plate taken from St. Mary's -Isle, getting but a tardy recognition from the Earl of Selkirk for such -a noble and unheard-of action. And, I take pride in writing it, Mr. -Carvel spent much of what he had earned at Gordon's Pride in a like -honourable manner. - -Mr. Carvel's description of the hero's reception at Versailles is -graphic and very humorous. For all his republican principles John Paul -never got over his love of courts, and no man was ever a more thorough -courtier. He exchanged compliments with Queen Marie Antoinette, who was -then in the bloom of her beauty, and declared that she was a "good girl, -and deserved to be happy." - -The unruly Simpson sailed for America in the Ranger in July, Captain -Jones being retained in France "for a particular enterprise." And -through the kindness of Dr. Franklin, Mr. Carvel remained with him. Then -followed another period of heartrending disappointment. The fine ship -the French government promised him was not forthcoming, though Captain -Jones wrote a volume of beautiful letters to every one of importance, -from her Royal Highness the Duchess of Chartres to his Most Christian -Majesty, Louis, King of France and Navarre. At length, when he was -sitting one day in unusual dejection and railing at the vanity of courts -and kings, Mr. Carvel approached him with a book in his hand. - -"What have you there, Richard?" the captain demanded. - -"Dr. Franklin's Maxims," replied my grandfather. They were great -favourites with him. The captain took the book and began mechanically to -turn over the pages. Suddenly he closed it with a bang, jumped up, and -put on his coat and hat. Mr. Carvel looked on in astonishment. - -"Where are you going, sir?" says he. - -"To Paris, sir," says the captain. "Dr. Franklin has taught me more -wisdom in a second than I had in all my life before. 'If you wish to -have any business faithfully and expeditiously performed, go and do it -yourself; otherwise, send.'" - -As a result of that trip he got the Duras, which he renamed the 'Bon -homme Richard' in honour of Dr. Franklin. The Duras was an ancient -Indiaman with a high poop, which made my grandfather exclaim, when he -saw her, at the remarkable fulfilment of old Stanwix's prophecy. She was -perfectly rotten, and in the constructor's opinion not worth refitting. -Her lowest deck (too low for the purpose) was pierced aft with three -ports on a side, and six worn-out eighteen-pounders mounted there. Some -of them burst in the action, killing their people. The main battery, -on the deck above, was composed of twenty-eight twelve-pounders. On the -uncovered deck eight nine-pounders were mounted. Captain Jones again -showed his desire to serve the cause by taking such a ship, and not -waiting for something better. - -In the meantime the American frigate 'Alliance' had brought Lafayette to -France, and was added to the little squadron that was to sail with the -'Bon homme Richard'. One of the most fatal mistakes Congress ever made -was to put Captain Pierre Landais in command of her, out of compliment -to the French allies. He was a man whose temper and vagaries had -failed to get him a command in his own navy. His insulting conduct and -treachery to Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's -manuscript: they were amply proved by the written statements of other -officers. - -The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision -between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back -into the Groix roads for repairs. Nails and rivets were with difficulty -got to hold in the sides of the old Indianian. On August 14th John Paul -Jones again set sail for English waters, with the following vessels: -Alliance, thirty-six; Pallas, thirty; Cerf, eighteen; Vengeance, twelve; -and two French privateers. Owing to the humiliating conditions imposed -upon him by the French Minister of Marine, Commodore Jones did not have -absolute command. In a gale on the 26th the two privateers and the Cerf -parted company, never to return. After the most outrageous conduct off -the coast of Ireland, Landais, in the 'Alliance', left the squadron -on September 6th, and did not reappear until the 23d, the day of the -battle. - -Mr. Carvel was the third lieutenant of the 'Bon homme Richard', tho' -he served as second in the action. Her first lieutenant (afterwards the -celebrated Commodore Richard Dale) was a magnificent man, one worthy in -every respect of the captain he served. When the hour of battle arrived, -these two and the sailing master, and a number of raw midshipmen, were -the only line-officers left, and two French officers of marines. - -The rest had been lost in various ways. And the crew of the 'Bon homme -Richard' was as sorry a lot as ever trod a deck. Less than three -score of the seamen were American born; near four score were British, -inclusive of sixteen Irish; one hundred and thirty-seven were French -soldiers, who acted as marines; and the rest of the three hundred odd -souls to fight her were from all over the earth,--Malays and Maltese -and Portuguese. In the hold were more than one hundred and fifty English -prisoners. - -This was a vessel and a force, truly, with which to conquer a fifty-gun -ship of the latest type, and with a picked crew. - -Mr. Carvel's chapter opens with Landais's sudden reappearance on the -morning of the day the battle was fought. He shows the resentment and -anger against the Frenchman felt by all on board, from cabin-boy -to commodore. But none went so far as to accuse the captain of the -'Alliance' of such supreme treachery as he was to show during the -action. Cowardice may have been in part responsible for his holding -aloof from the two duels in which the Richard and the Pallas engaged. -But the fact that he poured broadsides into the Richard, and into -her off side, makes it seem probable that his motive was to sink the -commodore's ship, and so get the credit of saving the day, to the -detriment of the hero who won it despite all disasters. To account for -the cry that was raised when first she attacked the Richard, it must be -borne in mind that the crew of the 'Alliance' was largely composed of -Englishmen. It was thought that these had mutinied and taken her. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE "SERAPIS" - -When I came on deck the next morning our yards were a-drip with a clammy -fog, and under it the sea was roughed by a southwest breeze. We were -standing to the northward before it. I remember reflecting as I paused -in the gangway that the day was Thursday, September the 23d, and that we -were near two months out of Groix with this tub of an Indiaman. In -all that time we had not so much as got a whiff of an English frigate, -though we had almost put a belt around the British Isles. Then straining -my eyes through the mist, I made out two white blurs of sails on our -starboard beam. - -Honest Jack Pearce, one of the few good seamen we had aboard, was -rubbing down one of the nines beside me. - -"Why, Jack," said I, "what have we there? Another prize?" For that -question had become a joke on board the 'Bon homme Richard' since the -prisoners had reached an hundred and fifty, and half our crew was gone -to man the ships. - -"Bless your 'art, no, sir," said he. "'Tis that damned Frenchy Landais -in th' Alliance. She turns up with the Pallas at six bells o' the middle -watch." - -"So he's back, is he?" - -"Ay, he's back," he returned, with a grunt that was half a growl; "arter -three weeks breakin' o' liberty. I tell 'ee what, sir, them Frenchies is -treecherous devils, an' not to be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An' -they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'. -Ez fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the round -house when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin on -us when he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen as -was there that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that the -commodore weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones be -bound up in a hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn't -punish him. Be that so, Mr. Carvel?" - -I said that it was. - -"Shiver my bulkheads!" cried Jack, "I gave my oath to that same, sir. -For I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arm -an' he had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies," said Jack, -rolling his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, "they sits on their -bottoms in Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's and -mouths, and daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers in -th' Bay o' Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into every -port in England with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o' -Frenchies, Mr. Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twould -give me the greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at that -there Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t' -my mind she couldn't be christened better, sir." - -I left him patting the gun with a tender affection. - -The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knot -of midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, and -cursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing him -up short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coasting -pilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped for -Garrett or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the first -lieutenant stood talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the French -marines. The scavengers were sweeping down, and part of the after guard -was bending a new bolt-rope on a storm staysail. - -Then the--fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter, -the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go after -a brigantine, "flying like a snow laden with English bricks," as -Midshipman Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with us -that we crane our necks to windward. - -At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten up -the fog, and the shores of England stood out boldly. Spurn Head was -looming up across our bows, while that of Flamborough jutted into the -sea behind us. I had the starboard watch piped to dinner, and reported -twelve o'clock to the commodore. And had just got permission to "make -it," according to a time-honoured custom at sea, when another "Sail, -ho!" came down from aloft. - -"Where away?" called back Mr. Linthwaite, who was midshipman of the -forecastle. - -"Starboard quarter, rounding Flamborough Head, sir. Looks like a -full-rigged ship, sir." - -I sent the messenger into the great cabin to report. He was barely -out of sight before a second cry came from the masthead: "Another sail -rounding Flamborough, sir!" - -The officers on deck hurried to the taffrail. I had my glass, but not -a dot was visible above the sea-line. The messenger was scarcely back -again when there came a third hail: "Two more rounding the head, sir! -Four in all, sir!" - -Here was excitement indeed. Without waiting for instructions, I gave the -command: - -"Up royal yards! Royal yardmen in the tops!" - -We were already swaying out of the chains, when Lieutenant Dale appeared -and asked the coasting pilot what fleet it was. He answered that it was -the Baltic fleet, under convoy of the Countess of Scarborough, twenty -guns, and the Serapis, forty-four. - -"Forty-four," repeated Mr. Dale, smiling; "that means fifty, as English -frigates are rated. We shall have our hands full this day, my lads," -said he. "You have done well to get the royals on her, Mr. Carvel." - -While he was yet speaking, three more sail were reported from aloft. -Then there was a hush on deck, and the commodore himself appeared. As he -reached the poop we saluted him and informed him of what had happened. - -"The Baltic fleet," said he, promptly. "Call away the pilotboat with Mr. -Lunt to follow the brigantine, sir, and ease off before the wind. Signal -'General Chase' to the squadron, Mr. Mayrant." - -The men had jumped to the weather braces before I gave the command, and -all the while more sail were counting from the crosstrees, until -their number had reached forty-one. The news spread over the ship; the -starboard watch trooped up with their dinners half eaten. Then a faint -booming of guns drifted down upon our ears. - -"They've got sight of us, sir," shouted the lookout. "They be firing -guns to windward, an' letting fly their topgallant sheets." - -At that the commodore hurried forward, the men falling back to the -bulwarks respectfully, and he mounted the fore-rigging as agile as any -topman, followed by his aide with a glass. From the masthead he sung out -to me to set our stu'nsails, and he remained aloft till near seven bells -of the watch. At that hour the merchantmen had all scuttled to safety -behind the head, and from the deck a great yellow King's frigate could -be plainly seen standing south to meet us, followed by her smaller -consort. Presently she hove to, and through our glasses we discerned -a small boat making for her side, and then a man clambering up her -sea-ladder. - -"That be the bailiff of Scarborough, sir," said the coasting pilot, -"come to tell her cap'n 'tis Paul Jones he has to fight." - -At that moment the commodore lay down from aloft, and our hearts beat -high as he walked swiftly aft to the quarterdeck, where he paused for -a word with Mr. Dale. Meanwhile Mr. Mayrant hove out the signal for the -squadron to form line of battle. - -"Recall the pilot-boat, Mr. Carvel," said the commodore, quietly. "Then -you may beat to quarters, and I will take the ship, sir." - -"Ay, ay, sir." I raised my trumpet. "All hands clear ship for action!" - -It makes me sigh now to think of the cheer which burst from that -tatterdemalion crew. Who were they to fight the bone and sinew of the -King's navy in a rotten ship of an age gone by? And who was he, that -stood so straight upon the quarter-deck, to instil this scum with love -and worship and fervour to blind them to such odds? But the bo'suns -piped and sang out the command in fog-horn voices, the drums beat the -long roll and the fifes whistled, and the decks became suddenly alive. -Breechings were loosed and gun-tackles unlashed, rammer and sponge laid -out, and pike and pistol and cutlass placed where they would be handy -when the time came to rush the enemy's decks. The powder-monkeys tumbled -over each other in their hurry to provide cartridges, and grape and -canister and doubleheaded shot were hoisted up from below. The trimmers -rigged the splinter nettings, got out spare spars and blocks and ropes -against those that were sure to be shot away, and rolled up casks of -water to put out the fires. Tubs were filled with sand, for blood is -slippery upon the boards. The French marines, their scarlet and white -very natty in contrast to most of our ragged wharf-rats at the guns, -were mustered on poop and forecastle, and some were sent aloft to -the tops to assist the tars there to sweep the British decks with -handgrenade and musket. And, lastly, the surgeon and his mates went -below to cockpit and steerage, to make ready for the grimmest work of -all. - -My own duties took me to the dark lower deck, a vile place indeed, and -reeking with the smell of tar and stale victuals. There I had charge of -the battery of old eighteens, while Mr. Dale commanded the twelves on -the middle deck. We loaded our guns with two shots apiece, though I had -my doubts about their standing such a charge, and then the men stripped -until they stood naked to the waist, waiting for the fight to begin. -For we could see nothing of what was going forward. I was pacing up and -down, for it was a task to quiet the nerves in that dingy place with -the gun-ports closed, when about three bells of the dog, Mr. Mease, the -purser, appeared on the ladder. - -"Lunt has not come back with the pilot-boat, Carvel," said he. "I have -volunteered for a battery, and am assigned to this. You are to report to -the commodore." - -I thanked him, and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. The 'Bon homme -Richard' was lumbering like a leaden ship before the wind, swaying -ponderously, her topsails flapping and her heavy blocks whacking against -the yards. And there was the commodore, erect, and with fire in his eye, -giving sharp commands to the men at the wheel. I knew at once that no -trifle had disturbed him. He wore a brand-new uniform; a blue coat with -red lapels and yellow buttons, and slashed cuffs and stand-up collar, a -red waistcoat with tawny lace, blue breeches, white silk stockings, and -a cocked hat and a sword. Into his belt were stuck two brace of pistols. - -It took some effort to realize, as I waited silently for his attention, -that this was the man of whose innermost life I had had so intimate -a view. Who had taken me to the humble cottage under Criffel, who had -poured into my ear his ambitions and his wrongs when we had sat together -in the dingy room of the Castle Yard sponging-house. Then some of those -ludicrous scenes on the road to London came up to me, for which the -sky-blue frock was responsible. And yet this commodore was not greatly -removed from him I had first beheld on the brigantine John. His -confidence in his future had not so much as wavered since that day. That -future was now not so far distant as the horizon, and he was ready to -meet it. - -"You will take charge of the battery of nines on this deck, Mr. Carvel," -said he, at length. - -"Very good, sir," I replied, and was making my way down the poop ladder, -when I heard him calling me, in a low voice, by the old name: "Richard!" - -I turned and followed him aft to the taffrail, where we were clear of -the French soldiers. The sun was hanging red over the Yorkshire Wolds, -the Head of Flamborough was in the blue shadow, and the clouds were like -rose leaves in the sky. The enemy had tacked and was standing west, with -ensign and jack and pennant flying, the level light washing his sails -to the whiteness of paper. 'Twas then I first remarked that the Alliance -had left her place in line and was sailing swiftly ahead toward the -Serapis. The commodore seemed to read my exclamation. - -"Landais means to ruin me yet, by hook or crook," said he. - -"But he can't intend to close with them," I replied. "He has not the -courage." - -"God knows what he intends," said the commodore, bitterly. "It is no -good, at all events." - -My heart bled for him. Some minutes passed that he did not speak, making -shift to raise his glass now and again, and I knew that he was gripped -by a strong emotion. "'Twas so he ever behaved when the stress was -greatest. Presently he lays down the glass on the signal-chest, fumbles -in his coat, and brings out the little gold brooch I had not set eyes on -since Dolly and he and I had stood together on the Betsy's deck. - -"When you see her, Richard, tell her that I have kept it as sacred as -her memory," he said thickly. "She will recall what I spoke of you when -she gave it me. You have been leal and true to me indeed, and many a -black hour have you tided me over since this war' began. Do you know how -she may be directed to?" he concluded, with abruptness. - -I glanced at him, surprised at the question. He was staring at the -English shore. - -"Mr. Ripley, of Lincoln's Inn, used to be Mr. Manners's lawyer," I -answered. - -He took out a little note-book and wrote that down carefully. "And now," -he continued, "God keep you, my friend. We must win, for we fight with a -rope around our necks." - -"But you, Captain Paul," I said, "is--is there no one?" - -His face took on the look of melancholy it had worn so often of late, -despite his triumphs. That look was the stamp of fate. - -"Richard," replied he, with an ineffable sadness, "I am naught but a -wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no ties, no kindred,--no -real friends, save you and Dale, and some of these honest fellows whom I -lead to slaughter. My ambition is seamed with a flaw. And all my life -I must be striving, striving, until I am laid in the grave. I know that -now, and it is you yourself who have taught me. For I have violently -broken forth from those bounds which God in His wisdom did set." - -I pressed his hand, and with bowed head went back to my station, -profoundly struck by the truth of what he had spoken. Though he fought -under the flag of freedom, the curse of the expatriated was upon his -head. - -Shortly afterward he appeared at the poop rail, straight and alert, his -eye piercing each man as it fell on him. He was the commodore once more. - -The twilight deepened, until you scarce could see your hands. There was -no sound save the cracking of the cabins and the tumbling of the blocks, -and from time to time a muttered command. An age went by before the -trimmers were sent to the lee braces, and the Richard rounded lazily to. -And a great frigate loomed out of the night beside us, half a pistolshot -away. - -"What ship is that?" came the hail, intense out of the silence. - -"I don't hear you," replied our commodore, for he had not yet got his -distance. - -Again came the hail: "What ship is that?" - -John Paul Jones leaned forward over the rail. - -"Pass the word below to the first lieutenant to begin the action, sir." - -Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the deck gave a mighty -leap, a hot wind that seemed half of flame blew across my face, and -the roar started the pain throbbing in my ears. At the same instant the -screech of shot sounded overhead, we heard the sharp crack-crack of -wood rending and splitting,--as with a great broadaxe,--and a medley -of blocks and ropes rattled to the deck with the 'thud of the falling -bodies. Then, instead of stillness, moans and shrieks from above and -below, oaths and prayers in English and French and Portuguese, and in -the heathen gibberish of the East. As the men were sponging and ramming -home in the first fury of hatred, the carpenter jumped out under the -battle-lanthorn at the main hatch, crying in a wild voice that the old -eighteens had burst, killing half their crews and blowing up the gundeck -above them. At this many of our men broke and ran for the hatches. - -"Back, back to your quarters! The first man to desert will be shot -down!" - -It was the same strange voice that had quelled the mutiny on the John, -that had awed the men of Kirkcudbright. The tackles were seized and -the guns run out once more, and fired, and served again in an agony of -haste. In the darkness shot shrieked hither and thither about us like -demons, striking everywhere, sometimes sending casks of salt water over -the nettings. Incessantly the quartermaster walked to and fro scattering -sand over the black pools that kept running, running together as the -minutes were tolled out, and the red flashes from the guns revealed -faces in a hideous contortion. One little fellow, with whom I had had -many a lively word at mess, had his arm taken off at the shoulder as he -went skipping past me with the charge under his coat, and I have but to -listen now to hear the patter of the blood on the boards as they carried -him away to the cockpit below. Out of the main hatch, from that charnel -house, rose one continuous cry. It was an odd trick of the mind or soul -that put a hymn on my lips in that dreadful hour of carnage and human -misery, when men were calling the name of their Maker in vain. But as -I ran from crew to crew, I sang over and over again a long-forgotten -Christmas carol, and with it came a fleeting memory of my mother on the -stairs at Carvel Hall, and of the negroes gathered on the lawn without. - -Suddenly, glancing up at the dim cloud of sails above, I saw that we -were aback and making sternway. We might have tossed a biscuit aboard -the big Serapis as she glided ahead of us. The broadsides thundered, and -great ragged scantlings brake from our bulwarks and flew as high as the -mizzen-top; and the shrieks and groans redoubled. Involuntarily my -eyes sought the poop, and I gave a sigh of relief at the sight of the -commanding figure in the midst of the whirling smoke. We shotted our -guns with double-headed, manned our lee braces, and gathered headway. - -"Stand by to board!" - -The boatswains' whistles trilled through the ship, pikes were seized, -and pistol and cutlass buckled on. But even as we waited with set -teeth, our bows ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For the -Richard's rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. So -we backed and filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard, -himself being aback at the time. Several of his shot crushed through the -bulwarks in front of me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half of -its crew. And it is only a miracle that I stand alive to be able to -tell the tale. Then I caught a glimpse of the quartermaster whirling -the spokes of our wheel, and over went our helm to lay us athwart the -forefoot of the 'Serapis', where we might rake and rush her decks. -Our old Indiaman answered but doggedly; and the huge bowsprit of the -Serapis, towering over our heads, snapped off our spanker gaff and -fouled our mizzen rigging. - -"A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!" I heard the commodore shout, and saw -the sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead and -wounded and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up a -smeared rope's end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we found -the commodore himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with the -severed stays and shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marines -looking on. - -"Don't swear, Mr. Stacey," said he, severely; "in another minute we may -all be in eternity." - -I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the stern -of the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries into -play. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadside -into her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunching -together, the disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward to -a leeward tide in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him to -shift his crews or to fling open his starboard gun-ports. - -Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those in -agony lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlight -filtered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon the -boards. A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks. - -"Have you struck, sir?" - -The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls. - -"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight." - -Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping of -musketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there about -the decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling to -larboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of the -space between the ships. The Englishman had blown off his gun-ports. -And next some one shouted that our battery of twelves was fighting them -muzzle to muzzle below, our rammers leaning into the Serapis to send -their shot home. No chance then for the thoughts which had tortured us -in moments of suspense. That was a fearful hour, when a shot had scarce -to leap a cannon's length to find its commission; when the belches of -the English guns burned the hair of our faces; when Death was sovereign, -merciful or cruel at his pleasure. The red flashes disclosed many an act -of coolness and of heroism. I saw a French lad whip off his coat when a -gunner called for a wad, and another, who had been a scavenger, snatch -the rammer from Pearce's hands when he staggered with a grape-shot -through his chest. Poor Jack Pearce! He did not live to see the work -'Scolding Sairy' was to do that night. I had but dragged him beyond -reach of the recoil when he was gone. - -Then a cry came floating down from aloft. Thrice did I hear it, like -one waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. "The Alliance! The -Alliance!" But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout the -ship, when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aft -forward. "She rakes us! She rakes us!" And the French soldiers tumbled -headlong down from the poop with a wail of "Les Anglais font prise!" -"Her Englishmen have taken her, and turned her guns against us!" Our -captain was left standing alone beside the staff where the stars and -stripes waved black in the moonlight. - -"The Alliance is hauling off, sir!" called the midshipman of the -mizzen-top. "She is making for the Pallas and the Countess of -Scarborough." - -"Very good, sir," was all the commodore said. - -To us hearkening for his answer his voice betrayed no sign of dismay. -Seven times, I say, was that battle lost, and seven times regained -again. What was it kept the crews at their quarters and the officers -at their posts through that hell of flame and shot, when a madman could -scarce have hoped for victory? What but the knowledge that somewhere -in the swirl above us was still that unswerving and indomitable man who -swept all obstacles from before him, and into whose mind the thought of -defeat could not enter. His spirit held us to our task, for flesh and -blood might not have endured alone. - -We had now but one of our starboard nine-pounders on its carriage, and -word came from below that our battery of twelves was all but knocked to -scrap iron, and their ports blown into one yawning gap. Indeed, we did -not have to be told that sides and stanchions had been carried away, for -the deck trembled and teetered under us as we dragged 'Scolding Sairy' -from her stand in the larboard waist, clearing a lane for her between -the bodies. Our feet slipped and slipped as we hove, and burning bits of -sails and splinters dropping from aloft fell unheeded on our heads and -shoulders. With the energy of desperation I was bending to the pull, -when the Malay in front of me sank dead across the tackle. But, ere I -could touch him, he was tenderly lifted aside, and a familiar figure -seized the rope where the dead man's hands had warmed it. Truly, the -commodore was everywhere that night. - -"Down to the surgeon with you, Richard!" he cried. "I will look to the -battery." - -Dazed, I put my hand to my hair to find it warm and wringing wet. When -I had been hit, I knew not. But I shook my head, for the very notion of -that cockpit turned my stomach. The blood was streaming from a gash in -his own temple, to which he gave no heed, and stood encouraging that -panting line until at last the gun was got across and hooked to the -ring-bolts of its companion that lay shattered there. "Serve her -with double-headed, my lads," he shouted, "and every shot into the -Englishman's mainmast!" - -"Ay, ay, sir," came the answer from every man of that little remnant. - -The Serapis, too, was now beginning to blaze aloft, and choking -wood-smoke eddied out of the Richard's hold and mingled with the powder -fumes. Then the enemy's fire abreast us seemed to lull, and Mr. Stacey -mounted the bulwarks, and cried out: "You have cleared their decks, my -hearties!" Aloft, a man was seen to clamber from our mainyard into the -very top of the Englishman, where he threw a hand-grenade, as I thought, -down her main hatch. An instant after an explosion came like a, clap of -thunder in our faces, and a great quadrant of light flashed as high as -the 'Serapis's' trucks, and through a breach in her bulwarks I saw men -running with only the collars of their shirts upon their naked bodies. - -'Twas at this critical moment, when that fearful battle once more was -won, another storm of grape brought the spars about our heads, and that -name which we dreaded most of all was spread again. As we halted in -consternation, a dozen round shot ripped through our unengaged side, -and a babel of voices hailed the treacherous Landais with oaths and -imprecations. We made out the Alliance with a full head of canvas, black -and sharp, between us and the moon. Smoke hung above her rail. Getting -over against the signal fires blazing on Flamborough Head, she wore ship -and stood across our bows, the midshipman on the forecastle singing out -to her, by the commodore's orders, to lay the enemy by the board. There -was no response. - -"Do you hear us?" yelled Mr. Linthwaite. - -"Ay, ay," came the reply; and with it the smoke broke from her and the -grape and canister swept our forecastle. Then the Alliance sailed away, -leaving brave Mr. Caswell among the many Landais had murdered. - -The ominous clank of the chain pumps beat a sort of prelude to what -happened next. The gunner burst out of the hatch with blood running down -his face, shouting that the Richard was sinking, and yelling for quarter -as he made for the ensign-staff on the poop, for the flag was shot away. -Him the commodore felled with a pistol-butt. At the gunner's heels were -the hundred and fifty prisoners we had taken, released by the master -at arms. They swarmed out of the bowels of the ship like a horde of -Tartars, unkempt and wild and desperate with fear, until I thought that -the added weight on the scarce-supported deck would land us all in the -bilges. Words fail me when I come to describe the frightful panic of -these creatures, frenzied by the instinct of self-preservation. They -surged hither and thither as angry seas driven into a pocket of a -storm-swept coast. They trampled rough-shod over the moaning heaps of -wounded and dying, and crowded the crews at the guns, who were powerless -before their numbers. Some fought like maniacs, and others flung -themselves into the sea. - -Those of us who had clung to hope lost it then. Standing with my back -to the mast, beating them off with a pike, visions of an English -prison-ship, of an English gallows, came before me. I counted the -seconds until the enemy's seamen would be pouring through our ragged -ports. The seventh and last time, and we were beaten, for we had not men -enough left on our two decks to force them down again. Yes,--I shame -to confess it--the heart went clean out of me, and with that the pain -pulsed and leaped in my head like a devil unbound. At a turn of the hand -I should have sunk to the boards, had not a voice risen strong and clear -above that turmoil, compelling every man to halt trembling in his steps. - -"Cast off, cast off! 'The Serapis' is sinking. To the pumps, ye fools, -if you would save your lives!" - -That unerring genius of the gardener's son had struck the only chord! - -They were like sheep before us as we beat them back into the reeking -hatches, and soon the pumps were heard bumping with a renewed and a -desperate vigour. Then, all at once, the towering mainmast of the -enemy cracked and tottered and swung this way and that on its loosened -shrouds. The first intense silence of the battle followed, in the midst -of which came a cry from our top: - -"Their captain is hauling down, sir!" - -The sound which broke from our men could scarce be called a cheer. That -which they felt as they sank exhausted on the blood of their comrades -may not have been elation. My own feeling was of unmixed wonder as I -gazed at a calm profile above me, sharp-cut against the moon. - -I was moved as out of a revery by the sight of Dale swinging across to -the Serapis by the main brace pennant. Calling on some of my boarders, I -scaled our bulwarks and leaped fairly into the middle of the gangway of -the Serapis. - -Such is nearly all of my remembrance of that momentous occasion. I had -caught the one glimpse of our first lieutenant in converse with their -captain and another officer, when a naked seaman came charging at me. He -had raised a pike above his shoulder ere I knew what he was about, and -my senses left me. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. IN WHICH I MAKE SOME DISCOVERIES - -The room had a prodigious sense of change about it. That came over me -with something of a shock, since the moment before I had it settled that -I was in Marlboro' Street. The bare branches swaying in the wind outside -should belong to the trees in Freshwater Lane. But beyond the branches -were houses, the like of which I had no remembrance of in Annapolis. -And then my grandfather should be sitting in that window. Surely, he -was there! He moved! He was coming toward me to say: "Richard, you are -forgiven," and to brush his eyes with his ruffles. - -Then there was the bed-canopy, the pleatings of which were gone, and it -was turned white instead of the old blue. And the chimney-place! That -was unaccountably smaller, and glowed with a sea-coal fire. And the -mantel was now but a bit of a shelf, and held many things that seemed -scarce at home on the rough and painted wood,--gold filigree; and China -and Japan, and a French clock that ought not to have been just there. -Ah, the teacups! Here at last was something to touch a fibre of my -brain, but a pain came with the effort of memory. So my eyes went -back to my grandfather in the window. His face was now become black as -Scipio's, and he wore a red turban and a striped cotton gown that was -too large for him. And he was sewing. This was monstrous! - -I hurried over to the tea-cups, such a twinge did that discovery give -me. But they troubled me near as much, and the sea-coal fire held -strange images. The fascination in the window was not to be denied, for -it stood in line with the houses and the trees. Suddenly there rose up -before me a gate. Yes, I knew that gate, and the girlish figure leaning -over it. They were in Prince George Street. Behind them was a mass of -golden-rose bushes, and out of these came forth a black face under a -turban, saying, "Yes, mistis, I'se comin'." - -"Mammy--Mammy Lucy!" - -The figure in the window stirred, and the sewing fell its ample lap. - -"Now Lawd'a mercy!" - -I trembled--with a violence unspeakable. Was this but one more of those -thousand voices, harsh and gentle, rough and tender, to which I had -listened in vain this age past? The black face was hovering over me -now, and in an agony of apprehension I reached up and felt its honest -roughness. Then I could have wept for joy. - -"Mammy Lucy!" - -"Yes, Marse Dick?" - -"Where--where is Miss Dolly?" - -"Now, Marse Dick, doctah done say you not t' talk, suh." - -"Where is Miss Dolly?" I cried, seizing her arm. - -"Hush, Marse Dick. Miss Dolly'll come terectly, suh. She's lyin' down, -suh." - -The door creaked, and in my eagerness I tried to lift myself. 'Twas -Aunt Lucy's hand that restrained me, and the next face I saw was that of -Dorothy's mother. But why did it appear so old and sorrow-lined? And why -was the hair now of a whiteness with the lace of the cap? She took my -fingers in her own, and asked me anxiously if I felt any pain. - -"Where am I, Mrs. Manners?" - -"You are in London, Richard." - -"In Arlington Street?" - -She shook her head sadly. "No, my dear, not in Arlington Street. But you -are not to talk." - -"And Dorothy? May I not see Dorothy? Aunt Lucy tells me she is here." - -Mrs. Manners gave the old mammy a glance of reproof, a signal that -alarmed me vastly. - -"Oh, tell me, Mrs. Manners! You will speak the truth. Tell me if she is -gone away?" - -"My dear boy, she is here, and under this very roof. And you shall see -her as soon as Dr. Barry will permit. Which will not be soon," she added -with a smile, "if you persist in this conduct." - -The threat had the desired effect. And Mrs. Manners quietly left the -room, and after a while as quietly came back again and sat down by the -fire, whispering to Aunt Lucy. - -Fate, in some inexplicable way, had carried me into the enemy's country -and made me the guest of Mr. Marmaduke Manners. As I lay staring -upward, odd little bits of the past came floating to the top of my mind, -presently to be pieced together. The injuries Mr. Marmaduke had done -me were the first to collect, since I was searching for the cause of -my resentment against him. The incidents arrived haphazard as magic -lanthorn views, but very vivid. His denial of me before Mr. Dix, and his -treachery at Vauxhall, when he had sent me to be murdered. Next I felt -myself clutching the skin over his ribs in Arlington Street, when I had -flung him across the room in his yellow night-gown. That brought me to -the most painful scene of my life, when I had parted with Dorothy at the -top of the stairs. Afterward followed scraps of the years at Gordon's -Pride, and on top of them the talk with McAndrews. Here was the secret I -sought. The crash had come. And they were no longer in Mayfair, but must -have taken a house in some poorer part of London. This thought cast me -down tremendously. - -And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I -fell asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot -House; of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping -through pleasant fields and gardens. - -When I awoke it was broad day once more. A gentleman sat on the edge of -my bed. He had a queer, short face, ruddy as the harvest moon, and he -smiled good-humouredly when I opened my eyes. - -"I bid you good morning, Mr. Carvel, for the first time since I have -made your acquaintance," said he. "And how do you feel, sir?" - -"I have never felt better in my life," I replied, which was the whole -truth. - -"Well, vastly well," says he, laughing, "prodigious well for a young -man who has as many holes in him as have you. Do you hear him, Mrs. -Manners?" - -At that last word, I popped up to look about the room, and the doctor -caught hold of me with ludicrous haste. A pain shot through my body. - -"Avast, avast, my hearty," cries he. "'Tis a miracle you can speak, -let alone carry your bed and walk for a while yet." And he turned to -Dorothy's mother, whom I beheld smiling at me. "You will give him the -physic, ma'am, at the hours I have chosen. Egad, I begin to think we -shall come through. - -"But pray remember, ma'am, if he talks, you are to put a wad in his -mouth." - -"He shall have no opportunity to talk, Dr. Barry," said Mrs. Manners. - -"Save for a favour I have to ask you, doctor," I cried. - -"'Od's bodkins! Already, sir? And what may that be?" - -"That you will allow me to see Miss Manners." - -He shook with laughter, and then winked at me very roguishly. - -"Oh!" says he, "and faith, I should be worse than cruel. First she comes -imploring me to see you, and so prettily that a man of oak could not -refuse her. And now it is you begging to see her. Had your eyes been -opened, sir, you might have had many a glimpse of Miss Dolly these three -weeks past." - -"What! She has been watching with me?" I asked, in a rapture not to be -expressed. - -"'Od's, but those are secrets. And the medical profession is -close-mouthed, Mr. Carvel. So you want to see her? No," cries he, "'tis -not needful to swear it on the Evangels. And I let her come in, will you -give me your honour as a gentleman not to speak more than two words to -her?" - -"I promise anything, and you will not deny me looking at her," said I. - -He shook again, all over. "You rascal! You sad dog, sir! No, sir, faith, -you must shut your eyes. Eh, madam, must he not shut his eyes?" - -"They were playmates, doctor," answers Mrs. Manners. She was laughing a -little, too. - -"Well, she shall come in. But remember that I shall have my ear to the -keyhole, and you go beyond your promise, out she's whisked. So I caution -you not to spend rashly those two words, sir." - -And he followed Mrs. Manners out of the room, frowning and shaking his -fist at me in mock fierceness. I would have died for the man. For a -space--a prodigious long space--I lay very still, my heart bumping like -a gun-carriage broke loose, and my eyes riveted on the crack of the -door. Then I caught the sound of a light footstep, the knob turned, and -joy poured into my soul with the sweep of a Fundy tide. - -"Dorothy!" I cried. "Dorothy!" - -She put her finger to her lips. - -"There, sir," said she, "now you have spoken them both at once!" - -She closed the door softly behind her, and stood looking down upon me -with such a wondrous love-light in her eyes as no man may describe. -My fancy had not lifted me within its compass, my dreams even had not -imagined it. And the fire from which it sprang does not burn in humbler -souls. So she stood gazing, those lips which once had been the seat of -pride now parted in a smile of infinite tenderness. But her head she -still held high, and her body straight. Down the front of her dress -fell a tucked apron of the whitest linen, and in her hand was a cup of -steaming broth. - -"You are to take this, Richard," she commanded. And added, with a touch -of her old mischief, "Mind, sir, if I hear a sound out of you, I am to -disappear like the fairy godmother." - -I knew full well she meant it, and the terror of losing her kept me -silent. She put down the cup, placed another pillow behind my head with -a marvellous deftness, and then began feeding me in dainty spoonfuls -something which was surely nectar. And mine eyes, too, had their feast. -Never before had I seen my lady in this gentle guise, this task of -nursing the sick, which her doing raised to a queenly art. - -Her face had changed some. Years of trial unknown to me had left an -ennobling mark upon her features, increasing their power an hundred -fold. And the levity of girlish years was gone. How I burned to question -her! But her lips were now tight closed, her glance now and anon seeking -mine, and then falling with an exquisite droop to the coverlet. For the -old archness, at least, would never be eradicated. Presently, after she -had taken the cup and smoothed my pillow, I reached out for her hand. It -was a boldness of which I had not believed myself capable; but she did -not resist, and even, as I thought, pressed my fingers with her own -slender ones, the red of our Maryland holly blushing in her cheeks. And -what need of words, indeed! Our thoughts, too, flew coursing hand in -hand through primrose paths, and the angels themselves were not to be -envied. - -A master might picture my happiness, waking and sleeping, through the -short winter days that came and went like flashes of gray light. The -memory of them is that of a figure tall and lithe, a little more rounded -than of yore, and a chiselled face softened by a power that is one -of the world's mysteries. Dorothy had looked the lady in rags, and -housewife's cap and apron became her as well as silks or brocades. -When for any reason she was absent from my side, I moped, to the quiet -amusement of Mrs. Manners and the more boisterous delight of Aunt Lucy, -who took her turn sewing in the window. I was near to forgetting the use -of words, until at length, one rare morning when the sun poured in, -the jolly doctor dressed my wounds with more despatch than common, and -vouchsafed that I might talk awhile that day. - -"Oh!" cries he, putting me as ever to confusion, "but I have a guess -whom my gentleman will be wishing to talk with. But I'll warrant, sir, -you have said a deal more than I have any notion of without opening your -lips." - -And he went away, intolerably pleased with his joke. - -Alas for the perversity of maiden natures! It was not my dear nurse who -brought my broth that morning, but Mrs. Manners herself. She smiled at -my fallen face, and took a chair at my bedside. - -"Now, my dear boy," she said, "you may ask what questions you choose, -and I will tell you very briefly how you have come here." - -"I have been thinking, Mrs. Manners," I replied, "that if it were known -that you harboured one of John Paul Jones's officers in London, very -serious trouble might follow for you." - -I thought her brow clouded a little. - -"No one knows of it, Richard, or is likely to. Dr. Barry, like so many -in England, is a good Whig and friend to America. And you are in a part -of London far removed from Mayfair." She hesitated, and then continued -in a voice that strove to be lighter: "This little house is in Charlotte -Street, Mary-le-Bone, for the war has made all of us suffer some. And -we are more fortunate than many, for we are very comfortable here, and -though I say it, happier than in Arlington Street. And the best of our -friends are still faithful. Mr. Fox, with all his greatness, has never -deserted us, nor my Lord Comyn. Indeed, we owe them much more than I can -tell you of now," she said, and sighed. "They are here every day of the -world to inquire for you, and it was his Lordship brought you out of -Holland." - -And so I had reason once more to bless this stanch friend! - -"Out of Holland?" I cried. - -"Yes. One morning as we sat down to breakfast, Mr. Ripley's clerk -brought in a letter for Dorothy. But I must say first that Mr. Dulany, -who is in London, told us that you were with John Paul Jones. You -can have no conception, Richard, of the fear and hatred that name has -aroused in England. Insurance rates have gone up past belief, and the -King's ships are cruising in every direction after the traitor and -pirate, as they call him. We have prayed daily for your safety, and -Dorothy--well, here is the letter she received. It had been opened -by the inspector, and allowed to pass. And it is to be kept as a -curiosity." She drew it from the pocket of her apron and began to read. - - "THE TEXEL, October 3, 1779 - - "MY DEAR Miss DOROTHY: I would not be thought to flutter y'r Gentle - Bosom with Needless Alarms, nor do I believe I have misjudged y'r - Warm & Generous Nature when I write you that One who is held very - High in y'r Esteem lies Exceeding Ill at this Place, who might by - Tender Nursing regain his Health. I seize this Opportunity to say, - my dear Lady, that I have ever held my too Brief Acquaintance with - you in London as one of the Sacred Associations of my Life. From - the Little I saw of you then I feel Sure that this Appeal will not - pass in Vain. I remain y'r most Humble and Devoted Admirer, - - "JAMES ORCHARDSON." - - -"And she knew it was from Commodore Jones?" I asked, in astonishment. - -"My dear," replied Mrs. Manners, with a quiet smile, "we women have a -keener instinct than men--though I believe your commodore has a woman's -intuition. Yes, Dorothy knew. And I shall never forget the fright she -gave me as she rose from the table and handed me the sheet to read, -crying but the one word. She sent off to Brook Street for Lord Comyn, -who came at once, and, in half an hour the dear fellow was set out for -Dover. He waited for nothing, since war with Holland was looked for -at any day. And his Lordship himself will tell you about that rescue. -Within the week he had brought you to us. Your skull had been trepanned, -you had this great hole in your thigh, and your heart was beating but -slowly. By Mr. Fox's advice we sent for Dr. Barry, who is a skilled -surgeon, and a discreet man despite his manner. And you have been here -for better than three weeks, Richard, hanging between life and death." - -"And I owe my life to you and to Dorothy," I said. - -"To Lord Comyn and Dr. Barry, rather," she replied quickly. "We have -done little but keep the life they saved. And I thank God it was given -me to do it for the son of your mother and father." - -Something of the debt I owed them was forced upon me. - -They were poor, doubtless driven to make ends meet, and yet they had -taken me in, called upon near the undivided services of an able surgeon, -and worn themselves out with nursing me. Nor did I forget the risk -they ran with such a guest. For the first time in many years my heart -relented toward Mr. Marmaduke. For their sakes I forgave him over and -over what I had suffered, and my treatment of him lay like a weight upon -me. And how was I to repay them? They needed the money I had cost them, -of that I was sure. After the sums I had expended to aid the commodore -with the 'Ranger' and the 'Bon homme Richard', I had scarce a farthing -to my name. With such leaden reflections was I occupied when I heard -Mrs. Manners speaking to me. - -"Richard, I have some news for you which the doctor thinks you can bear -to-day. Mr. Dulany, who is exiled like the rest of us, brought them. It -is a great happiness to be able to tell you, my dear, that you are now -the master of Carvel Hall, and like to stay so." - -The tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. And the enormity of those -tidings, coming as they did on the top of my dejection, benumbed me. All -they meant was yet far away from my grasp, but the one supreme result -that was first up to me brought me near to fainting in my weakness. - -"I would not raise your hopes unduly, Richard," the good lady was -saying, "but the best informed here seem to think that England cannot -push the war much farther. If the Colonies win, you are secure in your -title." - -"But how is it come about, Mrs. Manners?" I demanded, with my first -breath. - -"You doubtless have heard that before the Declaration was signed at -Philadelphia your Uncle Grafton went to the committee at Annapolis and -contributed to the patriot cause, and took very promptly the oath of the -Associated Freemen of Maryland, thus forsaking the loyalist party--" - -"Yes, yes," I interrupted, "I heard of it when I was on the Cabot. He -thought his property in danger." - -"Just so," said Mrs. Manners, laughing; "he became the best and most -exemplary of patriots, even as he had been the best of Tories. He sent -wheat and money to the army, and went about bemoaning that his only son -fought under the English flag. But very little fighting has Philip done, -my dear. Well, when the big British fleet sailed up the bay in '77, -your precious uncle made the first false step in his long career of -rascality. He began to correspond with the British at Philadelphia, and -one of his letters was captured near the Head of Elk. A squad was sent -to the Kent estate, where he had been living, to arrest him, but he made -his escape to New York. And his lands were at once confiscated by the -state." - -"'Then they belong to the state," I said, with misgiving. - -"Not so fast, Richard. At the last session of the Maryland Legislature a -bill was introduced, through the influence of Mr. Bordley and others, to -restore them to you, their rightful owner. And insomuch as you were even -then serving the country faithfully and bravely, and had a clean and -honourable record of service, the whole of the lands were given to you. -And now, my dear, you have had excitement enough for one day." - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. MORE DISCOVERIES - -All that morning I pondered over the devious lane of my life, which had -led up to so fair a garden. And one thing above all kept turning and -turning in my head, until I thought I should die of waiting for its -fulfilment. Now was I free to ask Dorothy to marry me, to promise her -the ease and comfort that had once been hers, should God bring us safe -back to Maryland. The change in her was little less than a marvel to -me, when I remembered the wilful miss who had come to London bent upon -pleasure alone. Truly, she was of that rare metal which refines, and -then outshines all others. And there was much I could not understand. -A miracle had saved her from the Duke of Chartersea, but why she had -refused so many great men and good was beyond my comprehension. Not a -glimpse of her did I get that day, though my eyes wandered little from -the knob of the door. And even from Aunt Lucy no satisfaction was to be -had as to the cause of her absence. - -"'Clare to goodness, Marse Dick," said she, with great solemnity, -"'clare to goodness, I'se nursed Miss Dolly since she was dat high, and -neber one minnit obher life is I knowed what de Chile gwine t' do de -next. She ain't neber yit done what I calcelated on." - -The next morning, after the doctor had dressed my wounds and bantered me -to his heart's content, enters Mr. Marmaduke Manners. I was prodigiously -struck by the change in him, and pitied him then near as much as I had -once despised him. He was arrayed in finery, as of old. But the finery -was some thing shabby; the lace was frayed at the edges, there was a -neat but obvious patch in his small-clothes, and two more in his coat. -His air was what distressed me most of all, being that of a man who -spends his days seeking favours and getting none. I had seen too many of -the type not to know the sign of it. - -He ran forward and gave me his hand, which I grasped as heartily as my -weakness would permit. - -"They would not let me see you until to-day, my dear Richard," he -exclaimed. "I bid you welcome to what is left of our home. 'Tis not -Arlington Street, my lad." - -"But more of a home than was that grander house, Mr. Manners." - -He sighed heavily. - -"Alas!" said he, "poverty is a bitter draught, and we have drunk deep of -it since last we beheld you. My great friends know me no more, and will -not take my note for a shilling. They do not remember the dinners and -suppers I gave them. Faith, this war has brought nothing but misery, and -how we are to get through it, God knows!" - -Now I understood it was not the war, but Mr. Marmaduke himself, which -had carried his family to this pass. And some of my old resentment -rekindled. - -"I know that I have brought you great additional anxiety and expense, -Mr. Manners," I answered somewhat testily. "The care I have been to Mrs. -Manners and Dorothy I may never repay. But it gives me pleasure to feel, -sir, that I am in a position to reimburse you, and likewise to loan you -something until your lands begin to pay again." - -"There the Carvel speaks," he cried, "and the true son of our generous -province. You can have no conception of the misfortunes come to me out -of this quarrel. The mortgages on my Western Shore tobacco lands are -foreclosed, and Wilmot House itself is all but gone. You well know, of -course, that I would do the same by you, Richard." - -I smiled, but more in sadness than amusement. Hardship had only degraded -Mr. Marmaduke the more, and even in trouble his memory was convenient -as is that of most people in prosperity. I was of no mind to jog his -recollection. But I wanted badly to ask about his Grace. Where had my -fine nobleman been at the critical point of his friend's misfortunes? -For I had had many a wakeful night over that same query since my talk -with McAndrews. - -"So you have come to your own again, Richard, my lad," said Mr. -Marmaduke, breaking in upon my train. "I have felt for you deeply, and -talked many a night with Margaret and Dorothy over the wrong done you. -Between you and me," he whispered, "that uncle of yours is an arrant -knave, whom the patriots have served with justice. To speak truth, sir, -I begin myself to have a little leaning to that cause which you have so -bravely espoused." - -This time I was close to laughing outright. But he was far too serious -to remark my mirth. He commenced once more, with an ahem, which gave me -a better inkling than frankness of what bothered him. - -"You will have an agent here, Richard, I take it," said he. "Your -grandfather had one. Ahem! Doubtless this agent will advance you all -you shall have need of, when you are well enough to see him. Fact is, he -might come here." - -"You forget, Mr. Manners, that I am a pirate and an outlaw, and that you -are the shielder of such." - -That thought shook the pinch of Holland he held all over him. But he -recovered. - -"My dear Richard, men of business are of no faction and of no nation. -Their motto is discretion. And to obtain the factorship in London of a -like estate to yours one of them would wear a plaster over his mouth, -I'll warrant you. You have but to summon one of the rascals, promise him -a bit of war interest, and he will leave you as much as you desire, and -nothing spoken." - -"To talk plainly, Mr. Manners," I replied, "I think 'twould be the -height of folly to resort to such means. When I am better, we shall see -what can be done." - -His face plainly showed his disappointment. - -"To be sure," he said, in a whining tone, "I had forgotten your friends, -Lord Comyn and Mr. Fox. They may do something for you, now you own -your estate. My dear sir, I dislike to say aught against any man. Mrs. -Manners will tell you of their kindness to us, but I vow I have not been -able to see it. With all the money at their command they will not loan -me a penny in my pressing need. And I shame to say it, my own daughter -prevents me from obtaining the money to keep us out of the Fleet. I know -she has spoken to Dulany. Think of it, Richard, my own daughter, upon -whom I lavished all when I had it, who might have made a score of grand -matches when I gave her the opportunity, and now we had all been rolling -in wealth. I'll be sworn I don't comprehend her, nor her mother either, -who abets her. For they prefer to cook Maryland dainties for a living, -to put in the hands of the footmen of the ladies whose houses they once -visited. And how much of that money do you suppose I get, sir? Will you -believe it that I--" (he was shrieking now), "that I, the man of the -family, am allowed only my simple meals, a farthing for snuff, and not a -groat for chaise-hire? At my age I am obliged to walk to and from their -lordships' side entrances in patched clothes, egad, when a new suit -might obtain us a handsome year's income!" - -I turned my face to the wall, completely overcome, and the tears -scalding in my eyes, at the thought of Dorothy and her mother bending -over the stove cooking delicacies for their livelihood, and watching at -my bedside night and day despite their weariness of body. And not a -word out of these noble women of their sacrifice, nor of the shame and -trouble and labour of their lives, who always had been used to every -luxury! Nothing but cheer had they brought to the sickroom, and not a -sign of their poverty and hardship, for they knew that their broths -and biscuit and jellies must have choked me. No. It remained for this -contemptible cur of a husband and father to open my eyes. - -He had risen when I had brought myself to look at him. And as I hope for -heaven he took my emotion for pity of himself. - -"I have worried you enough for one day with my troubles, my lad," said -he. "But they are very hard to bear, and once in a while it does me good -to speak of them." - -I did not trust myself to reply. - -It was Aunt Lucy who spent the morning with me, and Mrs. Manners brought -my dinner. I observed a questioning glance as she entered, which I took -for an attempt to read whether Mr. Marmaduke had spoke more than he -ought. But I would have bitten off my tongue rather than tell her of my -discoveries, though perhaps my voice may have betrayed an added concern. -She stayed to talk on the progress of the war, relating the gallant -storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony in July, and the latest Tory -insurrection on our own Eastern Shore. She passed from these matters to -a discussion of General Washington's new policy of the defensive, -for Mrs. Manners had always been at heart a patriot. And whilst I lay -listening with a deep interest, in comes my lady herself. So was it -ever, when you least expected her, even as Mammy had said. She curtseyed -very prettily, with her chin tilted back and her cheeks red, and asked -me how I did. - -"And where have you been these days gone, Miss Will-o'the-Wisp, since -the doctor has given me back my tongue?" I cried. - -"I like you better when you are asleep," says she. "For then you are -sometimes witty, though I doubt not the wit is other people's." - -So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night. For I -slept like a trooper after a day's forage. As to what I might have said -in my dreams--that thought made me red as an apple. - -"Dorothy, Dorothy," says her mother, smiling, "you would provoke a -saint." - -"Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner," replies the minx, -with a little face at me. "Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of -an audience from your Excellency." - -"A gentleman!" - -"Even so. He presents a warrant from your Excellency's physician." - -With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her. And who should -come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn? He made one rush at me, -and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear's hug. - -"Oh, Richard," cried he, when he had released me, "I give you my oath -that I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there. -But they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that -now. 'Tis love is curing you, my lad." - -He held me off at arm's length, the old-time affection beaming from his -handsome face. - -"What am I to say to you, Jack?" I answered. And my voice was all but -gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of -the legion I owed him. "How am I to piece words enough together to thank -you for this supreme act of charity?" - -"'Od's, you may thank your own devilish thick head," said my Lord Comyn. -"I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her. Had -it not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out -of that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?" - -I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail. - -"And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have -done her?" I said. - -He laughed, and pinched me playfully. - -"Now are you coming to your senses," said he. "There was cursed little -to the enterprise, Richard, and that's the truth. I got down to Dover, -and persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam. That -was not so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe -enough in the Texel. In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped, -and set off at the devil's pace for the Texel. You must know that the -whole Dutch nation was in an uproar--as much of an uproar as those boors -ever reach--over the arrival of your infamous squadron. The Court Party -and our ambassador were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans -for making you at home. I heard that their High Mightinesses had given -Paul Jones the use of the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners, -and thither I ran. And I was even cursing the French sentry at the -drawbridge in his own tongue, when up comes your commodore himself. -You may quarter me if wasn't knocked off my feet when I recognized the -identical peacock of a sea-captain we had pulled out of Castle Yard -along with you, and offered a commission in the Royal Navy." - -"Dolly hadn't told you?" - -"Dolly tell me!" exclaimed his Lordship, scornfully. "She was in a state -to tell me nothing the morning I left, save only to bring you to England -alive, and repeat it over and over. But to return to your captain,--he, -too, was taken all aback. But presently he whipt out my name, and I his, -without the Jones. And when I told him my errand, he wept on my neck, -and said he had obtained unlimited leave of absence for you from the -Paris commissioners. He took me up into a private room in the fort, -where you were; and the surgeon, who was there at the time, said that -your chances were as slim as any man's he had ever seen. Faith, you -looked it, my lad. At sight of your face I took one big gulp, for I had -no notion of getting you back to her. And rather than come without you, -and look into her eyes, I would have drowned myself in the Straits of -Dover. - -"Despite the host of troubles he had on his hands, your commodore -himself came with us to Rotterdam. Now I protest I love that man, who -has more humanity in him than most of the virtuous people in England who -call him hard names. If you could have seen him leaning over you, and -speaking to you, and feeling every minute for your heart-beats, egad, -you would have cried. And when I took you off to the schooner, he gave -me an hundred directions how to care for you, and then his sorrow bowled -him all in a heap." - -"And is the commodore still at the Texel?" I asked, after a space. - -"Ay, that he is, with our English cruisers thick as gulls outside' -waiting for a dead fish. But he has spurned the French commission they -have offered him, saying that of the Congress is good enough for him. -And he declares openly that when he gets ready he will sail out in the -Alliance under the Stars and Stripes. And for this I honour him," added -he, "and Charles honours him, and so must all Englishmen honour him -when they come to their senses. And by Gads life, I believe he will get -clear, for he is a marvel at seamanship." - -"I pray with all my heart that he may," said I, fervently. - -"God help him if they catch him!" my Lord exclaimed. "You should see the -bloody piratical portraits they are scattering over London." - -"Has the risk you ran getting me into England ever occurred to you, -Jack?" I asked, with some curiosity. - -"Faith, not until the day after we got back, Richard," says he, "when -I met Mr. Attorney General on the street. 'Sdeath, I turned and ran -the other way like the devil was after me. For Charles Fox vows that -conscience makes cowards of the best of us." - -"So that is some of Charles's wisdom!" I cried, and laughed until I was -forced to stop from pain. - -"Come, my hearty," says Jack, "you owe me nothing for fishing you out -of Holland--that is her debt. But I declare that you must one day pay -me for saving her for you. What! have I not always sworn that she loved -you? Did I not pull you into the coffee-room of the Star and Garter -years ago, and tell you that same?" - -My face warmed, though I said nothing. - -"Oh, you sly dog! I'll warrant there has been many a tender talk just -where I'm sitting." - -"Not one," said I. - -"'Slife, then, what have you been doing," he cries, "seeing her every -day and not asking her to marry you, my master of Carvel Hall?" - -"Since I am permitted to use my tongue, she has not come near me, save -when I slept," I answered ruefully. - -"Nor will she, I'll be sworn," says he, shaken with laughter. - -"'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her -unawares." - -I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me. - -"And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard," he said, in another -tone, "I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how -these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined of -her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her -to take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook -Street without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself -by the sight of her devotion." - -What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it! - -"When the crash came," he continued, "'twas she took command, and 'tis -God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed -to the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only -snuff-money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another -debt, and even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she -receive aught from us, but" (he glanced at me uneasily)--"but she and -Mrs. Manners must take to cooking delicacies--" - -"Yes, yes, I know," I faltered. - -"What! has the puppy told you?" cried he. - -I nodded. "He was in here this morning, with his woes." - -"And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend, -his Grace of Chartersea?" - -"He tried to sell her again?" I cried, my breath catching. "I have -feared as much since I heard of their misfortunes." - -"Yes," replied Comyn, "that was the first of it. 'Twas while they were -still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew. Mr. -Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside the -duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street for -the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then, Charles -having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea the -whole of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And -when the servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts -him. - -"'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she. - -"He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When -she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke, -who was trotting after. - -"'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say -is for his Grace's ear alone.' - -"Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard," my -Lord concluded, "but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For -in a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he -has never darkened the door since. And the cream of it is," said Comyn, -"that her father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me -to sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence." - -"And stranger confidants," I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of -Courtenay's letter, long ago. - -But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The -picture in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very -words she must have used were ringing in my ears. - -Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty -voice cried out: - -"Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in -this house. 'Slife, I must have at him!" - -"Mr. Fox!" I exclaimed. - -He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me. - -"For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles," said he. - -I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye -was caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They -were frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with -some new grandeur come upon the man. - -"Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?" I cried. - -He smiled, with his old boyish smile. - -"You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to -Holland House--do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?" - -"Remember it!" I repeated, with emphasis, "I'll warrant I can give you -every bit of our talk." - -"I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most -damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so -blunt and uncompromising. But you took my fancy--God knows why!--that -first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you -when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have -not forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the -grass. Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!" he said, and -sighed. - -"And yet you were a Junior Lord," I said. - -"Which is more than I am now," he answered. "Somehow--you may -laugh--somehow I have never been able to shake off the influence of your -words, Richard. Your cursed earnestness scared me." - -"Scared you?" I cried, in astonishment. - -"Just that," said Charles. "Jack will bear witness that I have said -so to Dolly a score of times. For I had never imagined such a single -character as yours. You know we were all of us rakes at fifteen, to -whom everything good in the universe was a joke. And do you recall the -teamster we met by the Park, and how he arrested his salute when he saw -who it was? At another time I should have laughed over that, but it cut -me to have it happen when you were along." - -"And I'll lay an hundred guineas to a farthing the fellow would put his -head on the block for Charles now," cut in his Lordship, with his hand -on Mr. Fox's shoulder. "Behold, O Prophet," he cried, "one who is become -the champion of the People he reviled! Behold the friend of Rebellion -and 'Lese Majeste', the viper in Britannia's bosom!" - -"Oh, have done, Jack," said Mr. Fox, impatiently, "you have no more -music in your soul than a cow. Damned little virtue attaches to it, -Richard," he went on. "North threw me out, and the king would have -nothing to do with me, so I had to pick up with you rebels and -traitors." - -"You will not believe him, Richard," cried my Lord; "you have only to -look at him to see that he lies. Take note of the ragged uniform of the -rebel army he carries, and then think of him 'en petite maitre', with -his cabriolet and his chestnuts. Egad, he might be as rich as Rigby were -it not for those principles which he chooses to deride. And I have seen -him reduced to a crown for them. I tell you, Richard," said my Lord, "by -espousing your cause Charles is become greater than the King. For he -has the hearts of the English people, which George has not, and the -allegiance of you Americans, which George will never have. And if you -once heard him, in Parliament, you should hear him now, and see the -Speaker wagging his wig like a man bewitched, and hear friends and -enemies calling out for him to go on whenever he gives the sign of a -pause." - -This speech of his Lordship's may seem cold in the writing, my dears, -and you who did not know him may wonder at it. It had its birth in an -admiration few men receive, and which in Charles Fox's devoted coterie -was dangerously near to idolatry. During the recital of it Charles -walked to the window, and there stood looking out upon the gray -prospect, seemingly paying but little attention. But when Comyn had -finished, he wheeled on us with a smile. - -"Egad, he will be telling you next that I have renounced the devil and -all his works, Richard," said he. - -"'Oohs, that I will not," his Lordship made haste to declare. "For they -were born in him, and will die with him." - -"And you, Jack," I asked, "how is it that you are not in arms for the -King, and commanding one of his frigates?" - -"Why, it is Charles's fault," said my Lord, smiling. "Were it not for -him I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast -towns." - - - - -CHAPTER LV. "THE LOVE OF A MAID FOR A MAN" - -The next morning, when Dr. Barry had gone, Mrs. Manners propped me up in -bed and left me for a little, so she said. Then who should come in -with my breakfast on a tray but my lady herself, looking so fresh and -beautiful that she startled me vastly. - -"A penny for your thoughts, Richard," she cried. "Why, you are as grave -as a screech-owl this brave morning." - -"To speak truth, Dolly," said I, "I was wondering how the commodore is -to get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait -outside." - -"Do not worry your head about that," said she, setting down the tray; -"it will be mere child's play to him. Oh but I should like to see your -commodore again, and tell him how much I love him. - -"I pray that you may have the chance," I replied. - -With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not -so much as looking at the knot. Then she stepped to the mantel and took -down one of Mr. Wedgwood's cups and dishes, and wiping them with her -apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her -eyes sparkling. - -"Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service," says -she, with a curtsey. - -I was as a man without a tongue, my hunger gone from sheer -happiness--and fright. And yet eating the breakfast with a relish -because she had made it. She busied herself about the room, dusting here -and tidying there, and anon throwing a glance at me to see if I needed -anything. My eyes followed her hither and thither. When I had finished, -she undid the napkin, and brushed the crumbs from the coverlet. - -"You are not going?" I said, with dismay. - -"Did you wish anything more, sir?" she asked. - -"Oh, Dorothy," I cried, "it is you I want, and you will not come near -me." - -For an instant she stood irresolute. Then she put down the tray and came -over beside me. - -"Do you really want me, sir?" - -"Dorothy," I began, "I must first tell you that I have some guess at -the sacrifice you are making for my sake, and of the trouble and danger -which I bring you." - -Without more ado she put her hand over my mouth. - -"No," she said, reddening, "you shall tell me nothing of the sort." - -I seized her hand, however it struggled, and holding it fast, continued: - -"And I have learned that you have been watching with me by night, and -working by day, when you never should have worked at all. To think that -you should be reduced to that, and I not know it!" - -Her eyes sought mine for a fleeting second. - -"Why, you silly boy, I have made a fortune out of my cookery. And fame, -too, for now am I known from Mary-le-bone to Chelsea, while before my -name was unheard of out of little Mayfair. Indeed, I would not have -missed the experience for a lady-in-waiting-ship. I have learned a deal -since I saw you last, sir. I know that the world, like our Continental -money, must not be taken for the price that is stamped upon it. And as -for the watching with you," said my lady, "that had to be borne with -as cheerfully as might be. Since I had sent off for you, I was in duty -bound to do my share toward your recovery. I was even going to add -that this watching was a pleasure,--our curate says the sense of duty -performed is sure to be. But you used to cry out the most terrifying -things to frighten me: the pattering of blood and the bumping of bodies -on the decks, and the black rivulets that ran and ran and ran and never -stopped; and strange, rough commands I could not understand; and the -name of your commodore whom you love so much. And often you would repeat -over and over: 'I have not yet begun, to fight, I have not yet begun to -fight!'" - -"Yes, 'twas that he answered when they asked him if he had struck," I -exclaimed. - -"It must have been an awful scene," she said, and her shoulders -quivered. "When you were at your worst you would talk of it, and -sometimes of what happened to you in London, of that ride in Hyde Park, -or--or of Vauxhall," she continued hurriedly. "And when I could bear it -no longer, I would take your hand and call you by name, and often quiet -you thus." - -"And did I speak of aught else?" I asked eagerly. - -"Oh, yes. When you were caliper, it would be of your childhood, of your -grandfather and your birthdays, of Captain Clapsaddle, and of Patty and -her father." - -"And never of Dolly, I suppose." - -She turned away her head. - -"And never of Dolly?" - -"I will tell you what you said once, Richard," she answered, her voice -dropping very low. "I was sitting by the window there, and the dawn was -coming. And suddenly I heard you cry: 'Patty, when I return will you be -my wife?' I got up and came to your side, and you said it again, twice." - -The room was very still. And the vision of Patty in the parlour of -Gordon's Pride, knitting my woollen stocking, rose before me. - -"Yes," I said at length, "I asked her that the day before I left for the -war. God bless her! She has the warmest heart in the world, and the most -generous nature. Do you know what her answer was, Dorothy?" - -"No." 'Twas only her lips moving that formed the word. She was twisting -absently the tassel of the bed curtain. - -"She asked me if I loved her." - -My lady glanced up with a start, then looked me searchingly through and -through. - -"And you?" she said, in the same inaudible way. - -"I could answer nothing. 'Twas because of her father's dying wish I -asked her, and she guessed that same. I would not tell her a lie, for -only the one woman lives whom I love, and whom I have loved ever since -we were children together among the strawberries. Need I say that that -woman is you, Dorothy? I loved you before we sailed to Carvel Hall -between my grandfather's knees, and I will love you till death claims -me." - -Then it seemed as if my heart had stopped beating. But the snowy apron -upon her breast fluttered like a sail stirring in the wind, her head was -high, and her eyes were far away. Even my voice sounded in the distance -as I continued: - -"Will you be the mistress of Carvel Hall, Dorothy? Hallowed is the day -that I can ask it." - -What of this earth may excel in sweetness the surrender of that proud -and noble nature! And her words, my dears, shall be sacred to you, too, -who are descended from her. She bent forward a little, those deep blue -eyes gazing full into my own with a fondness to make me tremble. - -"Dear Richard," she said, "I believe I have loved you always. If I have -been wilful and wicked, I have suffered more than you know--even as I -have made you suffer." - -"And now our suffering is over, Dorothy." - -"Oh, don't say that, my dear!" she cried, "but let us rather make a -prayer to God." - -Down she got on her knees close beside me, and I took both of her hands -between my own. But presently I sought for a riband that was around my -neck, and drew out a locket. Within it were pressed those lilies of the -valley I had picked for her long years gone by on my birthday. And she -smiled, though the tears shone like dewdrops on her lashes. - -"When Jack brought you to us for dead, we did not take it off, dear," -she said gently. "I wept with sorrow and joy at sight of it, for I -remembered you as you were when you picked those flowers, and how -lightly I had thought of leaving you as I wound them into my hair. And -then, when I had gone aboard the 'Annapolis', I knew all at once that -I would have given anything to stay, and I thought my heart would break -when we left the Severn cliffs behind. But that, sir, has been a secret -until this day," she added, smiling archly through her tears. - -She took out one of the withered flowers, and then as caressingly put it -back beside the others, and closed the locket. - -"I forbade Dr. Barry to take it off, Richard, when you lay so white -and still. I knew then that you had been true to me, despite what I had -heard. And if you were to die--" her voice broke a little as she passed -her hand over my brow, "if you were to die, my single comfort would have -been that you wore it then." - -"And you heard rumours of me, Dorothy?" - -"George Worthington and others told me how ably you managed Mr. Swain's -affairs, and that you had become of some weight with the thinking men of -the province. Richard, I was proud to think that you had the courage to -laugh at disaster and to become a factor. I believe," she said shyly, -"twas that put the cooking into my head, and gave me courage. And when I -heard that Patty was to marry you, Heaven is my witness that I tried to -be reconciled and think it for the best. Through my own fault I had lost -you, and I knew well she would make you a better wife than I." - -"And you would not even let Jack speak for me!" - -"Dear Jack!" she cried; "were it not for Jack we should not be here, -Richard." - -"Indeed, Dolly, two people could scarce fall deeper in debt to another -than are you and I to my Lord Viscount," I answered, with feeling. "His -honesty and loyalty to us both saved you for me at the very outset." - -"Yes," she replied thoughtfully, "I believed you dead. And I should have -married him, I think. For Dr. Courtenay had sent me that piece from the -Gazette telling of the duel between you over Patty Swain--" - -"Dr. Courtenay sent you that!" I interrupted. - -"I was a wild young creature then, my dear, with little beside vanity -under my cap. And the notion that you could admire and love any girl but -me was beyond endurance. Then his Lordship arrived in England, brimming -with praise of you, to assure me that the affair was not about Patty -at all. This was far from making me satisfied that you were not in -love with her, and I may say now that I was miserable. Then, as we were -setting out for Castle Howard, came the news of your death on the road -to Upper Marlboro. I could not go a step. Poor Jack, he was very honest -when he proposed," she added, with a sigh. - -"He loved you, Dorothy." - -She did not hear me, so deep was she in thought. - -"'Twas he who gave me news of you, when I was starving at Gordon's." - -"And I--I starved, too, Richard," she answered softly. "Dearest, I slid -very wrong. There are some matters that must be spoken of between us, -whatever the pain they give. And my heart aches now when I think of that -dark day in Arlington Street when I gave you the locket, and you went -out of my life. I knew that I had done wrong then, Richard, as soon as -ever the door closed behind you. I should have gone with you, for better -for worse, for richer for poorer. I should have run after you in the -rain and thrown myself at your feet. And that would have been best for -my father and for me." - -She covered her face with her hands, and her words were stifled by a -sob. - -"Dorothy, Dorothy!" I cried, drawing her to me. "Another time. Not now, -when we are so happy." - -"Now, and never again, dear," she said. "Yes, I saw and heard all that -passed in the drawing-room. And I did not blame, but praised you for -it. I have never spoken a word beyond necessity to my father since. God -forgive me!" she cried, "but I have despised him from that hour. When -I knew that he had plotted to sell me to that detestable brute, working -upon me to save his honour, of which he has not the smallest spark; that -he had recognized and denied you, friendless before our house, and sent -you into the darkness at Vauxhall to be murdered, then he was no father -of mine. I would that you might know what my mother has suffered from -such a man, Richard." - -"My dear, I have often pitied her from my soul," I said. - -"And now I shall tell you something of the story of the Duke of -Chartersea," she went on, and I felt her tremble as she spoke that name. -"I think of all we have Lord Comyn to thank for, next to saving your -life twice, was his telling you of the danger I ran. And, Richard, after -refusing you that day on the balcony over the Park, I had no hope left. -You may thank your own nobility and courage that you remained in London -after that. Richard," she said, "do you recall my asking you in the -coach, on the way from Castle Yard, for the exact day you met my father -in Arlington Street?" - -"Yes," I replied, in some excitement, "yes." For I was at last to come -at the bottom of this affair. - -"The duke had made a formal offer for me when first we came to London. -I think my father wrote of that to Dr. Courtenay." (I smiled at -the recollection, now.) "Then his Grace persisted in following me -everywhere, and vowed publicly that he would marry me. I ordered him -from our house, since my father would not. At last one afternoon he came -back to dine with us, insolent to excess. I left the table. He sat with -my father two hours or more, drinking and singing, and giving orders to -the servants. I shut my door, that I might not hear. After a while my -mother came up to me, crying, saying that Mr. Manners would be branded -with dishonour and I did not consent to marry his Grace,--a most -terrible dishonour, of which she could not speak. That the duke had -given my father a month to win my consent. And that month was up, -Richard, the very afternoon you appeared with Mr. Dix in Arlington -Street." - -"And you agreed to marry him, Dolly?" I asked breathlessly. - -"By the grace of Heaven, I did not," she answered quickly. "The utmost -that I would consent to was a two months' respite, promising to give -my hand to no one in that interval. And so I was forced to refuse you, -Richard. You must have seen even then that I loved you, dear, though -I was so cruel when you spoke of saving me from his Grace. I could not -bear to think that you knew of any stain upon our family. I think--I -think I would rather have died, or have married him. That day I threw -Chartersea's presents out of the window, but my father made the -servants gather them all which escaped breaking, and put them in the -drawing-room. Then I fell ill." - -She was silent, I clinging to her, and shuddering to think how near I -had been to losing her. - -"It was Jack who came to cheer me," I said presently. - -"His faith in you was never shaken, sweetheart. But I went to Newmarket -and Ampthill, and behaved like the ingrate I was. I richly deserved the -scolding he had for me when I got back to town, which sent me running -to Arlington Street. There I met Dr. James coming out, who asked me if I -was Mr. Carvel, and told me that you had called my name." - -"And, you goose, you never suspected," says she, smiling. - -"How was I to suspect that you loved a provincial booby like me, when -you had the choice of so many accomplished gentlemen with titles and -estates?" - -"How were you to perceive, indeed, that you had qualities which they -lacked?" - -"And you were forever vowing that you would marry a nobleman, my lady. -For you said to me once that I should call you so, and ride in the coach -with the coroneted panels when I came home on a visit." - -"And I said, too," retorted Dolly, with mischief in her eyes, "do you -remember what I told you the New Year's eve when we sat out by the -sundial at Carvel Hall, when I was so proud of having fixed Dr. -Courtenay's attentions? I said that I should never marry you, sir, who -was so rough and masterful, and thrashed every lad that did not agree -with you." - -"Alas, so you did, and a deal more!" I exclaimed. - -With that she broke away from me and, getting to her feet, made me a low -curtsey with the grace that was hers alone. - -"You are my Lord and my King, sir," she said, "and my rough Patriot -squire, all in one." - -"Are you happy, Dolly?" I asked, tremulous from my own joy. - -"I have never been happy in all my life before, Richard dear," she said. - -In truth, she was a being transformed, and more wondrous fair than ever. -And even then I pictured her in the brave gowns and jewels I would buy -her when times were mended, when our dear country would be free. All at -once, ere I could draw a breath, she had stooped and kissed me ever so -lightly on the forehead. - -The door opened upon Aunt Lucy. She had but to look at us, and her black -face beamed at our blushes. My lady threw her arms about her neck, and -hid her face in the ample bosom. - -"Now praise de good Lawd!" cried Mammy; "I knowed it dis longest time. -What's I done tole you, Miss Dolly? What's I done tole you, honey?" - -But my lady flew from the room. Presently I heard the spinet playing -softly, and the words of that air came out of my heart from long ago. - - "Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song. - Love that is too hot and strong - Burneth soon to waste. - Still, I would not have thee cold, - Nor too backward, nor too bold. - Love that lasteth till 'tis old - Fadeth not in haste." - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. HOW GOOD CAME OUT OF EVIL - -'Twas about candlelight when I awoke, and Dorothy was sitting alone -beside me. Her fingers were resting upon my arm, and she greeted me with -a smile all tenderness. - -"And does my Lord feel better after--after his excitement to-day?" she -asked. - -"Dorothy, you have made me a whole man again. I could walk to Windsor -and back." - -"You must have your dinner, or your supper first, sir," she answered -gayly, "and do you rest quiet until I come back to feed you. Oh, Richard -dear," she cried, "how delightful that you should be the helpless one, -and dependent on me!" - -As I lay listening for the rustle of her gown, the minutes dragged -eternally. Every word and gesture of the morning passed before my mind, -and the touch of her lips still burned on my forehead. At last, when -I was getting fairly restless, the distant tones of a voice, deep and -reverberating, smote upon my ear, jarring painfully some long-forgotten -chord. That voice belonged to but one man alive, and yet I could not -name him. Even as I strained, the tones drew nearer, and they were mixed -with sweeter ones I knew well, and Dorothy's mother's voice. Whilst I -was still searching, the door opened, the voices fell calm, and Dorothy -came in bearing a candle in each hand. As she set them down on the -table, I saw an agitation in her face, which she strove to hide as she -addressed me. - -"Will you see a visitor, Richard?" - -"A visitor!" I repeated, with misgiving. 'Twas not so she had announced -Comyn. - -"Will you see Mr. Allen?"-- - -"Mr. Allen, who was the rector of St. Anne's? Mr. Allen in London, and -here?" - -"Yes." Her breath seemed to catch at the word. "He says he must see you, -dear, and will not be denied. How he discovered you were with us I know -not." - -"See him!" I cried. "And I had but the half of my strength I would -fling him downstairs, and into the kennel. Will you tell him so for me, -Dorothy?" - -And I raised up in bed, shaken with anger against the man. In a trice -she was holding me, fearfully. - -"Richard, Richard, you will open your wound. I pray you be quiet." - -"And Mr. Allen has the impudence to ask to see me!" - -"Listen, Richard. Your anger makes you forget many things. Remember that -he is a dangerous man, and now that he knows you are in London he holds -your liberty, perhaps your life, in his hands." - -It was true. And not mine alone, but the lives and liberty of others. - -"Do you know what he wishes, Dorothy?" - -"No, he will not tell us. But he is greatly excited, and says he must -see you at once, for your own good. For your own good, Richard!" - -"I do not trust the villain, but he may come in," I said, at length. - -She gave me the one lingering, anxious look, and opened the door. - -Never had I beheld such a change in mortal man as there was in Mr. -Allen, my old tutor, and rector of St. Anne's. And 'twas a baffling, -intangible change. 'Twas as if the mask bad been torn from his face, -for he was now just a plain adventurer that need not have imposed upon -a soul. The coarse wine and coarse food of the lower coffee-houses of -London had replaced the rich and abundant fare of Maryland. The next -day was become one of the terrors of his life. His clothes were of poor -stuff, but aimed at the fashion. And yet--and yet, as I looked upon -him, a something was in his face to puzzle me entirely. I had seen many -stamps of men, but this thing I could not recognize. - -He stepped forward with all of his old confidence, and did not regard a -farthing my cold stare. - -"'Tis like gone days to see you again, Richard," he cried. "And I -perceive you have as ever fallen into the best of hands." - -"I am Mr. Carvel to my enemies, if they must speak to me at all," I -said. - -"But, my dear fellow, I am not your enemy, or I should not be here this -day. And presently I shall prove that same." He took snuff. "But first -I must congratulate you on coming alive out of that great battle off -Flamborough. You look as though you had been very near to death, my lad. -A deal nearer than I should care to get." - -What to say to the man! What to do save to knock him down, and I could -not do that. - -"There can be no passing the time of day between you and me, Mr. Allen," -I answered hotly. "You, whose machinations have come as near to ruining -me as a man's can." - -"And that was your own fault, my dear sir," said he, as he brushed -himself. "You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very -dear to men in my position." - -My head swam. Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with -something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes. With -a "by your leave, ma'am," to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me. - -"You have but to call me when you wish, Richard," said she. - -"Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not -hear," I said instantly. "And you will do me a favour to remain." - -She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised -his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he -kept his mouth shut. - -"And now, Mr. Allen," I said, "to what do I owe the pain of this visit?" - -"The pain!" he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit -of laughter. "By the mass! your politeness drowns me. But I like -you, Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal -straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else. -For I have seen a deal of rogues in my day." - -"And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen." - -"So they have," he cried, and laughed the more. "Egad, Miss Dorothy, -you have saved all of him, I think." Then he swung round upon me, very -careless. "Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, -Richard?" he asked. - -That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her -chair. - -"Grafton Carvel in London?" I exclaimed. - -"Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, -I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, -and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army. -They arrived, before yesterday, from New York." - -"And to what is this an introduction?" I demanded. - -"I merely thought it strange," said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, "that he -had not called to inquire after his nephew's health." - -Dolly was staring at him, with eyes wide open. - -"And pray, how did he discover I was in London, sir?" I said. "I was -about to ask how you knew of it, but that is one and the same thing." - -He shot at me a look not to be solved. - -"It is not well to bite the hand that lifts you out of the fire, -Richard," said he. - -"You had not gained admission to this house were I not on my back, Mr. -Allen." - -"And that same circumstance is a blessing for you," he cried. - -'Twas then I saw Dorothy making me mute signals of appeal. - -"I cannot think why you are here, Mr. Allen," I said. "When you consider -all the harm you have done me, and all the double-dealing I may lay at -your door, can you blame me for my feelings?" - -"No," he answered, with more soberness than he had yet used; "I honour -you for them. And perchance I am here to atone for some of that harm. -For I like you, my lad, and that's God's truth." - -"All this is neither here nor there, Mr. Allen," I exclaimed, wholly out -of patience. "If you have come with a message, let me have it. If not, I -beg you get out of my sight, for I have neither the will nor the desire -for palavering." - -"Oh, Richard, do keep your temper!" implored Dorothy. "Can you not see -that Mr. Allen desires to do us--to do you--a service?" - -"Of that I am not so sure," I replied. - -"It is his way, Miss Manners," said the rector, "and I hold it not -against him. To speak truth, I looked for a worse reception, and came -steeled to withstand it. And had my skin been thin, I had left ere -now." He took more snuff. "It was Mr. Dix," he said to me slowly, "who -informed Mr. Carvel of your presence in London." - -"And how the devil did Mr. Dix know?" - -He did not reply, but glanced apprehensively at Dorothy. - -And I have wondered since at his consideration. - -"Miss Manners may not wish to hear," he said uneasily. - -"Miss Manners hears all that concerns me," I answered. - -He shrugged his shoulders in comprehension. - -"It was Mr. Manners, then, who went to Mr. Dix, and told him under the -pledge of secrecy." - -Not a sound came from Dorothy, nor did I dare to look at her face. The -whole matter was clear to me now. After his conversation with me, Mr. -Marmaduke had lost no time in seeing Mr. Dix, in order to raise money on -my prospects. And the man of business had gone straight to Grafton with -the intelligence. The suspicion flashed through me that Mr. Allen had -been sent to spy, but his very next words disarmed it. - -"And now, Richard," he continued, "before I say what I have come to -say, and since you cannot now prosecute me, I mean to confess to you -something which you probably know almost to a certainty. I was in the -plot to carry you off and deprive you of your fortune. I have been paid -for it, though not very handsomely. Fears for my own safety alone kept -me from telling you and Mr. Swain. And I swear to you that I was sorry -for the venture almost before I had embarked, and ere I had received a -shilling. The scheme was laid out before I took you for a pupil; indeed, -that was part of it, as you no doubt have guessed. As God hears me, I -learned to love you, Richard, in those days at the rectory. You were all -of a man, and such an one as I might have hoped to be had I been born -like you. You said what you chose, and spoke from your own convictions, -and catered to no one. You did not whine when the luck went against you, -but lost like a gentleman, and thought no more of it. You had no fear -of the devil himself. Why should you? While your cousin Philip, with his -parrot talk and sneaking ways, turned my stomach. I was sick of him, and -sick of Grafton, I tell you. But dread of your uncle drove me on, and I -had debts to frighten me." - -He paused. "Twas with a strange medley of emotions I looked at him. And -Dorothy, too, was leaning forward, her lips parted and her eyes riveted -upon his face. - -"Oh, I am speaking the truth," he said bitterly. "And I assume no virtue -for the little justice it remains in my power to do. It is the lot of my -life that I must be false to some one always, and even now I am false to -your uncle. Yes, I am come to do justice, and 'tis a strange errand -for me. I know that estates have been restored to you by the Maryland -Legislature, Richard, and I believe in my heart that you will win this -war." Here he fetched a memorandum from his pocket. "But to make you -secure," said he, "in the year 1710, and on the 9th of March, old style, -your great-grandfather, Mr. George Carvel, drew up a document entailing -the lands of Carvel Hall. By this they legally pass to you." - -"The family settlement Mr. Swain suspected!" I exclaimed. - -"Just so," he answered. - -"And what am I to pay for this information?" I asked. - -Hardly were the words spoken, when Dorothy ran to my bedside, and -seizing my hand, faced him. - -"He--he is not well, Mr. Allen," she cried. - -The rector had risen, and stood gazing down at us with the whole of his -life written on his face. That look was fearful to see, and all of -hell was expressed therein. For what is hell if it is not hope dead and -buried, and galling regret for what might have been? With mine own great -happiness so contrasted against his torture, my heart melted. - -"I am not well, indeed, Mr. Allen," I said. "God knows how hard it is -for me to forgive, but I forgive you this night." - -One brief instant he stared at me, and then tumbled suddenly down into -his chair, his head falling forward on his arms. And the long sobs -by which his frame was shaken awed our very souls. Dorothy drew back -against me, clasping my shoulder, the tears wet upon her cheeks. What we -looked on, there in the candlelight, was the Revelation itself. - -How long it, endured none of us might say. And when at last he raised -his face, it was haggard and worn in truth, but the evil of it seemed to -have fled. Again and again he strove to speak. The words would not obey. -And when he had mastered himself, his voice was shattered and gone. - -"Richard, I have sinned heavily in my time, and preached God's holy word -with a sneer and unbelief in my heart. He knows what I have suffered, -and what I shall yet suffer before His judgment comes for us all. But I -beg it is no sin to pray to Him for your happiness and Miss Dorothy's." - -He stumbled there, and paused, and then continued with more steadiness: - -"I came here to-night to betray you, and might have gone hence to your -uncle to claim my pieces of silver. I remain to tell you that Grafton -has an appointment at nine with his Majesty's chief Secretary of State. -I need not mention his motives, nor dwell upon your peril. For the -King's sentiments toward Paul Jones are well known. You must leave -London without delay, and so must Mr. Manners and his family." - -Is it the generations which decide? When I remember bow Dorothy behaved -that night, I think so. Scarce had the rector ceased when she had -released me and was standing erect before him. Pity was in her eyes, but -in her face that courage which danger itself begets in heroic women. - -"You have acted a noble part this day, Mr. Allen," she said, "to atone -for the wrongs you have done Richard. May God forgive you, and make you -happier than you have been!" - -He struggled to his feet, listening as to a benediction. Then, with -a single glance to give me confidence, she was gone. And for a minute -there was silence between us. - -"How may you be directed to?" I asked. - -He leaped as out of a trance. - -"Just 'the world,' Richard," said he. "For I am adrift again, and not -very like to find a harbour, now." - -"You were to have been paid for this, Mr. Allen," I replied. "And a man -must live." - -"A man must live!" he cried. "The devil coined that line, and made it -some men's history." - -"I have you on my conscience, Mr. Allen," I went on, "for I have been at -fault as well as you. I might have treated you better, even as you have -said. And I command you to assign a place in London whence you may be -reached." - -"A letter to the Mitre coffee-house will be delivered," he said. - -"You shall receive it," I answered. "And now I bid you good-by, and -thank you." - -He seized and held my hand. Then walked blindly to the door and turned -abruptly. - -"I do not tell you that I shall change my life, Richard, for I have said -that too many times before. Indeed, I warn you that any money you may -send will be spent in drink, and--and worse. I will be no hypocrite to -you. But I believe that I am better this hour than I have been since -last I knelt at my mother's knee in the little Oxfordshire cottage where -I was born." - -When Dorothy returned to me, there was neither haste in her step nor -excitement in her voice. Her very coolness inspired me. - -"Do you feel strong enough for a journey, Richard?" she asked. - -"To the world's end, Dolly, if you will but go with me." - -She smiled faintly. "I have sent off for my Lord and Mr. Fox, and pray -that one of them may be here presently." - -Scarcely greater were the visible signs of apprehension upon Mrs. -Manners. Her first care, and Dorothy's, was to catechise me most -particularly on my state. And whilst they were so occupied Mr. Marmaduke -entered, wholly frenzied from fright, and utterly oblivious to his own -blame in the matter. He was sent out again directly. After that, with -Aunt Lucy to assist, they hurriedly packed what few things might be -taken. The costly relics of Arlington Street were untouched, and the -French clock was left on the mantel to tick all the night, and for days -to come, in a silent and forsaken room; or perhaps to greet impassively -the King's officers when they broke in at the door. But I caught my lady -in the act of wrapping up the Wedgwood cups and dishes. - -In the midst of these preparations Mr. Fox was heard without, and was -met at the door by Dorothy. Two sentences sufficed her to tell him -what had occurred, and two seconds for this man of action to make his -decision. - -"In an hour you shall have travelling chaises here, Dorothy," he said. -"You must go to Portsmouth, and take ship for Lisbon. And if Jack does -not arrive, I will go with you." - -"No, Charles, you must not!" she cried, her emotion conquering her for -the nonce. "That might be to ruin your career, and perchance to lose -your life. And suppose we were to escape, what would they say of you!" - -"Fish!" Charles retorted, to hide some feelings of his own; "once our -rebel is out of the country, they may speak their minds. They have never -lacked for names to call me, and I have been dubbed a traitor before -now, my dear lady." - -He stepped hastily to the bed, and laid his hand on me with affection. - -"Charles," I said, "this is all of a piece with your old recklessness. -You were ever one to take any risk, but I will not hear of such a -venture as this. Do you think I will allow the hope of all England to be -staked for a pirate? And would you break our commander of her rank? All -that Dorothy need do at Portsmouth is to curtsey to the first skipper -she meets, and I'll warrant he will carry us all to the antipodes." - -"Egad, but that is more practical than it sounds," he replied, with a -glance of admiration at my lady, as she stood so tall before us. "She -has a cool head, Richard Carvel, and a long head, and--and I'm thinking -you are to come out of this the best of all of us. You cannot get far -off your course, my lad, with her at the helm." - -It was there his voice belied the jest in his words, and he left us with -precipitation. - -They lifted me out of my sheets (I was appalled to discover my -weakness), and bundled me with tender care in a dozen shawls and -blankets. My feet were thrust into two pairs of heavy woollen stockings, -and Dorothy bound her own silk kerchief at my throat, whispering anxious -questions the while. And when her mother and mammy went from the room, -her arms flew around my neck in a passion of solicitude. Then she ran -away to dress for the journey, and in a surprising short time was back -again, with her muff and her heavy cloak, and bending over me to see if -I gave any signs of failure. - -Fifty and five minutes had been registered by the French clock, when the -rattle of wheels and the clatter of hoofs sounded below, and Charles Fox -panted up the stairs, muffled in a huge wrap-rascal. 'Twas he and Aunt -Lucy carried me down to the street, Dorothy walking at my side, and -propped me up in the padded corner of one of the two vehicles in -waiting. This was an ample travelling-carriage with a lamp hanging from -its top, by the light of which my lady tucked me in from head to foot, -and then took her place next me. Aunt Lucy filled most of the seat -opposite. The baggage was hoisted up behind, and Charles was about to -slam the door, when a hackney-chaise turned the corner at a gallop and -pulled up in the narrow street abreast, and the figure of my Lord -Comyn suddenly leaped within the compass of the lanthorn's rays. He was -dressed as for a ball, with only a thin rain-cloak over his shoulders, -for the night was thick with mist. He threw at us a startled look that -was a question. - -"Jack, Richard is to be betrayed to-night by his uncle," said Charles, -shortly. "And I am taking them to Portsmouth to get them off for -Lisbon." - -"Charles," said his Lordship, sternly, "give me that greatcoat." - -It was just the one time that ever I saw uncertainty on Mr. Fox's face. -He threw an uneasy glance into the chaise. - -"I have brought money," his Lordship went on rapidly; "'Twas that kept -me, for I guessed at something of this kind. Give me the coat, I say." - -Mr. Fox wriggled out of it, and took the oiled cape in return. - -"Thank you, Jack," he said simply, and stepped into the carriage. "Who -is to mend my waistcoats now?" he cried. "Faith, I shall treasure this -against you, Richard. Good-by, my lad, and obey your rebel general. -Alas! I must even ask your permission to salute her." - -And he kissed the unresisting Dorothy on both her cheeks. "God keep the -two of you," he said, "for I love you with all my heart." - -Before we could answer he was gone into the night; and my Lord, standing -without, had closed the carriage door. And that was the last I saw of -this noble man, the true friend of America, who devoted his glorious -talents and his life to fighting the corruption that was rotting the -greatness of England. He who was followed by the prayers of the English -race was ever remembered in our own humble ones. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. I COME TO MY OWN AGAIN - -'Twas a rough, wild journey we made to Portsmouth, my dears, and I -think it must have killed me had not my lady been at my side. We were no -sooner started than she pulled the curtains and opened her portmanteau, -which I saw was near filled with things for my aid and comfort. And I -was made to take a spoonful of something. Never, I believe, was medicine -swallowed with a greater willingness. Talk was impossible, so I lay back -in the corner and looked at her; and now and anon she would glance at -my face, with a troubled guess in her own as to how I might stand the -night. For we were still in London. That I knew by the trot of our -horses, and by the granite we traversed from time to time. But at length -we rumbled over a bridge, there was a sharp call back from our post-boy -to him of the chaise behind, and then began that rocking and pitching -and swaying and creaking, which was to last the whole night long, save -for the brief stops at the post-houses. - -After an hour of it, I was holding my breath against the lurches, like -a sea-sick man against that bottomless fall of the ship's bows on the -ocean. I had no pain,--only an over whelming exhaustion,--but the joy -of her touch and her presence kept me from failing. And though Aunt Lucy -dozed, not a wink of sleep did my lady get through all of those weary -twelve hours. Always alert was she, solicitous beyond belief, scanning -ever the dial of her watch to know when to give me brandy and physic; -or reaching across to feel my temples for the fever. The womanliness of -that last motion was a thing for a man to wonder at. But most -marvellous of all was the instinct which told her of my chief sickening -discomfort,--of the leathery, travelled smell of the carriage. As a -relief for this she charged her pocket-napkin with a most delicate -perfume, and held it to my face. - -When we drew up to shift horses, Jack would come to the door to inquire -if there was aught she wanted, and to know how I was bearing up. And -often Mrs. Manners likewise. At first I was for talking with them, but -this Dorothy would not allow. Presently, indeed, it was beyond my power, -and I could only smile feebly at my Lord when I heard Dolly asking him -that the hostlers might be more quiet. Toward morning a lethargy fell -upon me. Once I awoke when the lamp had burned low, to perceive the -curtains drawn back, a black blotch of trees without, and the moonlight -streaming in on my lady's features. With the crack of a whip I was off -again. - -When next consciousness came, the tarry, salt smell of a ship was in my -nostrils, and I knew that we were embarked. I lay in a clean bunk in a -fair-sized and sun-washed cabin, and I heard the scraping of ropes -and the tramp of feet on the deck above my head. Framed against the -irregular glass of the cabin window, which was greened by the water -beyond, Dorothy and my Lord stood talking in whispers. - -"Jack!" I said. - -At the sound they turned and ran toward me, asking how I felt. - -"I feel that words are very empty, Jack, to express such a gratitude as -mine," I answered. "Twice you have saved me from death, you have paid -my debts, and have been stanch to us both in our troubles. And--" The -effort was beyond me, and I glanced appealingly at Dolly. - -"And it is to you, dear Jack," she finished, "it is to you alone that we -owe the great joy of our lives." - -Her eyes were shining through her tears, and her smile was like the sun -out of a rain-swept sky. His Lordship took one of her hands in his own, -and one of mine. He scanned our faces in a long, lingering look. - -"You will cherish her, Richard," he said brokenly, "for her like is -not to be found in this world. I knew her worth when first she came to -London, as arrant a baggage as ever led man a dance. I saw then that -a great love alone was needed to make her the highest among women, and -from the night I fought with you at the Coffee House I have felt upon -whom that love would fall. O thou of little faith," he cried, "what -little I may have done has been for her. No, Richard, you do not deserve -her, but I would rather think of her as your wife than that of any man -living." - -I shall not dwell upon that painful farewell which wrung our hearts, and -made us silent for a long, long while after the ship was tossing in the -short seas of the Channel. - -Nor is it my purpose to tell you of that long voyage across the -Atlantic. We reached Lisbon in safety, and after a week of lodgings in -that city by the best of fortune got passage in a swift bark bound for -Baltimore. For the Chesapeake commerce continued throughout the war, and -kept alive the credit of the young nation. There were many excitements -ere we sighted the sand-spits of Virginia, and off the Azores we were -chased for a day and a night by a British sloop of war. Our captain, -however, was a cool man and a seaman, and slipped through the cruisers -lying in wait off the Capes very triumphantly. - -But the remembrance of those fair days at sea fills my soul with -longing. The weather was mild and bright for the season, and morning -upon morning two stout topmen would carry me out to a sheltered spot -on the deck, always chosen by my lady herself. There I sat by the hour, -swathed in many layers of wool, and tended by her hands alone. Every -nook and cranny of our lives were revealed to the other. She loved to -hear of Patty and my years at Gordon's, and would listen with bated -breath to the stories of the Ranger and the Bonhomme Richard, and of -that strange man whom we both loved, whose genius had made those cruises -famous. Sometimes, in low voices, we talked of our future; but often, -when the wind blew and the deck rocked and the sun flashed upon -the waters, a silence would fall between us that needed no word to -interpret. - -Mrs. Manners yielded to my wish for us all to go to Carvel Hall. It was -on a sparkling morning in February that we sighted the familiar toe of -Kent Island, and the good-natured skipper put about and made for the -mouth of our river. Then, as of old, the white cupola of Carvel House -gleamed a signal of greeting, to which our full hearts beat a silent -response. Once again the great windmill waved its welcome, and the same -memory was upon us both as we gazed. Of a hale old gentleman in the -sheets of a sailing pinnace, of a boy and a girl on his knees quivering -with excitement of the days to come. Dorothy gently pressed my hand as -the bark came into the wind, and the boat was dropped into the green -water. Slowly they lowered me into it, for I was still helpless, Dorothy -and her mother and Aunt Lucy were got down, and finally Mr. Marmaduke -stepped gingerly from the sea-ladder over the gunwale. The cutter leaped -under the strong strokes up the river with the tide. Then, as we rounded -the bend, we were suddenly astonished to see people gathered on the -landing at the foot of the lawn, where they had run, no doubt, in a -flurry at sight of the ship below. In the front of the group stood out a -strangely familiar figure. - -"Why," exclaimed Dolly, "it is Ivie Rawlinson!" - -Ivie it was, sure enough. And presently, when we drew a little closer, -he gave one big shout and whipped off the hat from his head; and off, -too, came the caps from the white heads of Scipio and Chess and Johnson -behind him. Our oars were tossed, Ivie caught our bows, and reached his -hand to Dorothy. It was fitting that she should be the first to land at -Carvel Hall. - -"'Twas yere bonny face I seed first, Miss Dolly," he cried, the tears -coursing down the scars of his cheeks. "An' syne I kennt weel the -young master was here. Noo God be praised for this blythe day, that Mr. -Richard's cam to his ain at last!" - -But Scipio and Chess could only blubber as they helped him to lift -me out, Dolly begging them to be careful. As they carried me up the -familiar path to the pillared porch, the first I asked Ivie was of -Patty, and next why he had left Gordon's. She was safe and well, despite -the Tories, and herself had sent him to take charge of Carvel Hall as -soon as ever Judge Bordley had brought her the news of its restoration -to me. He had supplied her with another overseer. Thanks to the good -judge and to Colonel Lloyd, who had looked to my interests since Grafton -was fled, Ivie had found the old place in good order, all the negroes -quiet, and impatient with joy against my arrival. - -It is time, my children, to bring this story to a close. I would I might -write of those delicious spring days I spent with Dorothy at Carvel -Hall, waited on by the old servants of my grandfather. At our whim my -chair would be moved from one to another of the childhood haunts; on -cool days we sat in the sun by the dial, where the flowers mingled their -odours with the salt breezes off the Chesapeake; or anon, when it was -warmer, in the summer-house my mother loved, or under the shade of the -great trees on the lawn, looking out over the river. And once my lady -went off very mysteriously, her eyes brimful of mischief, to come back -with the first strawberries of the year staining her apron. - -We were married on the fifteenth of June, already an anniversary for us -both, in the long drawing-room. General Clapsaddle was there from the -army to take Dorothy in his arms, even as he had embraced another bride -on the same spot in years gone by. She wore the wedding gown that was -her mother's, but when the hour was come to dress her Aunt Lucy and Aunt -Hester failed in their task, and it was Patty who performed the most of -that office, and hung the necklace of pearls about her neck. - -Dear Patty! She hath often been with us since. You have heard your -mothers and fathers speak of Aunt Patty, my dears, and they will tell -you how she spoiled them when they went a-visiting to Gordon's Pride. - -Ere I had regained my health, the war for Independence was won. I pray -God that time may soften the bitterness it caused, and heal the breach -in that noble race whose motto is Freedom. That the Stars and Stripes -and the Union Jack may one day float together to cleanse this world of -tyranny! - - - - -AFTERWORD - -The author makes most humble apologies to any who have, or think they -have, an ancestor in this book. He has drawn the foregoing with a very -free hand, and in the Maryland scenes has made use of names rather than -of actual personages. His purpose, however poorly accomplished, was to -give some semblance of reality to this part of the story. Hence he has -introduced those names in the setting, choosing them entirely at random -from the many prominent families of the colony. - -No one may read the annals of these men, who were at once brave and -courtly, and of these women, who were ladies by nature as well as by -birth, and not love them. The fascination of that free and hospitable -life has been so strong on the writer of this novel that he closes it -with a genuine regret and the hope that its perusal may lead others to -the pleasure he has derived from the history of Maryland. - -As few liberties as possible have been taken with the lives of Charles -James Fox and of John Paul Jones. The latter hero actually made a voyage -in the brigantine 'John' about the time he picked up Richard Carvel -from the Black Moll, after the episode with Mungo Maxwell at Tobago. The -Scotch scene, of course, is purely imaginary. Accuracy has been aimed -at in the account of the fight between the 'Bonhomme Richard' and the -'Serapis', while a little different arrangement might have been better -for the medium of the narrative. To be sure, it was Mr. Mease, -the purser, instead of Richard Carvel, who so bravely fought the -quarter-deck guns; and in reality Midshipman Mayrant, Commodore Jones's -aide, was wounded by a pike in the thigh after the surrender. No -injustice is done to the second and third lieutenants, who were absent -from the ship during the action. - -The author must acknowledge that the only good anecdote in the book and -the only verse worth printing are stolen. The story on page concerning -Mr. Garrick and the Archbishop of York may be found in Fitzgerald's -life of the actor, much better told. The verse (in Chapter X) is by an -unknown author in the Annapolis Gazette, and is republished in Mr. Elihu -Riley's excellent "History of Annapolis." - - - PG EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - - A bold front is half the battle - A man ought never to be frightened by appearances - Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest - Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back - Genius honored but never encouraged - God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see - He was our macaroni of Annapolis - Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys - It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven - No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing - Shaped his politics according to the company he was in - Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad - Sir, I have not yet begun to fight - The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure - Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages) - Thy politics are not over politic - Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur - Within every man's province to make himself what he will - Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle - Youth is in truth a mystery - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Richard Carvel, Complete, by Winston Churchill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, COMPLETE *** - -***** This file should be named 5373.txt or 5373.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/5373/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** - - -Title: Richard Carvel, Complete - -Author: Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston Churchill) - -Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5373] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on June 24, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - - - - - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, ALL, BY CHURCHILL *** - - - -This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> - - - -[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the -file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an -entire meal of them. D.W.] - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - - -CONTENTS - -Volume 1. -I. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel Hall -II. Some Memories of Childhood -III. Caught by the Tide -IV. Grafton would heal an Old Breach -V. "If Ladies be but Young and Fair" -VI. I first suffer for the Cause -VII. Grafton has his Chance - -Volume 2. -VIII. Over the Wall -IX. Under False Colours -X. The Red in the Carvel Blood -XI. A Festival and a Parting -XII. News from a Far Country - -Volume 3. -XIII. Mr. Allen shows his Hand -XIV. The Volte Coupe -XV. Of which the Rector has the Worst -XVI. In which Some Things are made Clear -XVII. South River -XVIII. The Black Moll - -Volume 4. -XIX. A Man of Destiny -XX. A Sad Home-coming -XXI. The Gardener's Cottage -XXII. On the Road -XXIII. London Town -XXIV. Castle Yard -XXV. The Rescue - -Volume 5. -XXVI. The Part Horatio played -XXVII. In which I am sore tempted -XXVIII. Arlington Street -XXIX. I meet a very Great Young Man -XXX. A Conspiracy -XXXI. "Upstairs into the World" -XXXII. Lady Tankerville's Drum-major -XXXIII. Drury Lane - -Volume 6. -XXXIV. His Grace makes Advances -XXXV. In which my Lord Baltimore appears . -XXXVI. A Glimpse of Mr. Garrick -XXXVII. The Serpentine -XXXVIII. In which I am roundly brought to task -XXXIX. Holland House -XL. Vauxhall -XLI. The Wilderness - -Volume 7. -XLII. My Friends are proven -XLIII. Annapolis once more -XLIV. Noblesse Oblige -XLV. The House of Memories -XLVI. Gordon's Pride -XLVII. Visitors -XLVIII. Multum in Parvo -XLIX. Liberty loses a Friend - -Volume 8. -L. Farewell to Gordon's -LI. How an Idle Prophecy came to pass -LII. How the Gardener's Son fought the Serapis -LIII. In which I make Some Discoveries -LIV. More Discoveries. -LV. The Love of a Maid for a Man -LVI. How Good came out of Evil -LVII. I come to my Own again - - - - -FOREWORD - -My sons and daughters have tried to persuade me to remodel these memoirs -of my grandfather into a latter-day romance. But I have thought it wiser -to leave them as he wrote them. Albeit they contain some details not of -interest to the general public, to my notion it is such imperfections as -these which lend to them the reality they bear. Certain it is, when -reading them, I live his life over again. - -Needless to say, Mr. Richard Carvel never intended them for publication. -His first apology would be for his Scotch, and his only defence is that -he was not a Scotchman. - -The lively capital which once reflected the wit and fashion of Europe has -fallen into decay. The silent streets no more echo with the rumble of -coaches and gay chariots, and grass grows where busy merchants trod. -Stately ball-rooms, where beauty once reigned, are cold and empty and -mildewed, and halls, where laughter rang, are silent. Time was when -every wide-throated chimney poured forth its cloud of smoke, when every -andiron held a generous log,--andirons which are now gone to decorate Mr. -Centennial's home in New York or lie with a tag in the window of some -curio shop. The mantel, carved in delicate wreaths, is boarded up, and -an unsightly stove mocks the gilded ceiling. Children romp in that room -with the silver door-knobs, where my master and his lady were wont to sit -at cards in silk and brocade, while liveried blacks entered on tiptoe. -No marble Cupids or tall Dianas fill the niches in the staircase, and the -mahogany board, round which has been gathered many a famous toast and -wit, is gone from the dining room. - -But Mr. Carvel's town house in Annapolis stands to-day, with its -neighbours, a mournful relic of a glory that is past. - -DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL. - -CALVERT HOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA, -December 21, 1876. - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - - -CHAPTER I - -LIONEL CARVEL, OF CARVEL HALL - -Lionel Carvel, Esq., of Carvel Hall, in the county of Queen Anne, was no -inconsiderable man in his Lordship's province of Maryland, and indeed he -was not unknown in the colonial capitals from Williamsburg to Boston. -When his ships arrived out, in May or June, they made a goodly showing at -the wharves, and his captains were ever shrewd men of judgment who -sniffed a Frenchman on the horizon, so that none of the Carvel tobacco -ever went, in that way, to gladden a Gallic heart. Mr. Carvel's acres -were both rich and broad, and his house wide for the stranger who might -seek its shelter, as with God's help so it ever shall be. It has yet to -be said of the Carvels that their guests are hurried away, or that one, -by reason of his worldly goods or position, shall be more welcome than -another. - -I take no shame in the pride with which I write of my grandfather, albeit -he took the part of his Majesty and Parliament against the Colonies. He -was no palavering turncoat, like my Uncle Grafton, to cry "God save the -King!" again when an English fleet sailed up the bay. Mr. Carvel's hand -was large and his heart was large, and he was respected and even loved by -the patriots as a man above paltry subterfuge. He was born at Carvel -Hall in the year of our Lord 1696, when the house was, I am told, but a -small dwelling. It was his father, George Carvel, my great-grandsire, -reared the present house in the year 1720, of brick brought from England -as ballast for the empty ships; he added on, in the years following, the -wide wings containing the ball-room, and the banquet-hall, and the large -library at the eastern end, and the offices. But it was my grandfather -who built the great stables and the kennels where he kept his beagles and -his fleeter hounds. He dearly loved the saddle and the chase, and taught -me to love them too. Many the sharp winter day I have followed the fox -with him over two counties, and lain that night, and a week after, -forsooth, at the plantation of some kind friend who was only too glad to -receive us. Often, too, have we stood together from early morning until -dark night, waist deep, on the duck points, I with a fowling-piece I was -all but too young to carry, and brought back a hundred red-heads or -canvas-backs in our bags. He went with unfailing regularity to the races -at Annapolis or Chestertown or Marlborough, often to see his own horses -run, where the coaches of the gentry were fifty and sixty around the -course; where a negro, or a hogshead of tobacco, or a pipe of Madeira was -often staked at a single throw. Those times, my children, are not ours, -and I thought it not strange that Mr. Carvel should delight in a good -main between two cocks, or a bull-baiting, or a breaking of heads at the -Chestertown fair, where he went to show his cattle and fling a guinea -into the ring for the winner. - -But it must not be thought that Lionel Carvel, your ancestor, was wholly -unlettered because he was a sportsman, though it must be confessed that -books occupied him only when the weather compelled, or when on his back -with the gout. At times he would fain have me read to him as he lay in -his great four-post bed with the flowered counterpane, from the -Spectator, stopping me now and anon at some awakened memory of his youth. -He never forgave Mr. Addison for killing stout, old Sir Roger de -Coverley, and would never listen to the butler's account of his death. -Mr. Carvel, too, had walked in Gray's Inn Gardens and met adventure at -Fox Hall, and seen the great Marlborough himself. He had a fondness for -Mr. Congreve's Comedies, many of which he had seen acted; and was partial -to Mr. Gay's Trivia, which brought him many a recollection. He would -also listen to Pope. But of the more modern poetry I think Mr. Gray's -Elegy pleased him best. He would laugh over Swift's gall and wormwood, -and would never be brought by my mother to acknowledge the defects in the -Dean's character. Why? He had once met the Dean in a London drawing- -room, when my grandfather was a young spark at Christ Church, Oxford. -He never tired of relating that interview. The hostess was a very great -lady indeed, and actually stood waiting for a word with his Reverence, -whose whim it was rather to talk to the young provincial. He was a -forbidding figure, in his black gown and periwig, so my grandfather said, -with a piercing blue eye and shaggy brow. He made the mighty to come to -him, while young Carvel stood between laughter and fear of the great -lady's displeasure. - -"I knew of your father," said the Dean, "before he went to the colonies. -He had done better at home, sir. He was a man of parts." - -"He has done indifferently well in Maryland, sir," said Mr. Carvel, -making his bow. - -"He hath gained wealth, forsooth," says the Dean, wrathfully, "and might -have had both wealth and fame had his love for King James not turned his -head. I have heard much of the colonies, and have read that doggerel -'Sot Weed Factor' which tells of the gluttonous life of ease you lead in -your own province. You can have no men of mark from such conditions, Mr. -Carvel. Tell me," he adds contemptuously, "is genius honoured among -you?" - -"Faith, it is honoured, your Reverence," said my grandfather, "but never -encouraged." - -This answer so pleased the Dean that he bade Mr. Carvel dine with him -next day at Button's Coffee House, where they drank mulled wine and old -sack, for which young Mr. Carvel paid. On which occasion his Reverence -endeavoured to persuade the young man to remain in England, and even -went so far as to promise his influence to obtain him preferment. But -Mr. Carvel chose rather (wisely or not, who can judge?) to come back to -Carvel Hall and to the lands of which he was to be master, and to play -the country squire and provincial magnate rather than follow the varying -fortunes of a political party at home. And he was a man much looked up -to in the province before the Revolution, and sat at the council board of -his Excellency the Governor, as his father had done before him, and -represented the crown in more matters than one when the French and -savages were upon our frontiers. - -Although a lover of good cheer, Mr. Carvel was never intemperate. To the -end of his days he enjoyed his bottle after dinner, nay, could scarce get -along without it; and mixed a punch or a posset as well as any in our -colony. He chose a good London-brewed ale or porter, and his ships -brought Madeira from that island by the pipe, and sack from Spain and -Portugal, and red wine from France when there was peace. And puncheons -of rum from Jamaica and the Indies for his people, holding that no -gentleman ever drank rum in the raw, though fairly supportable as punch. - -Mr. Carvel's house stands in Marlborough Street, a dreary mansion enough. -Praised be Heaven that those who inherit it are not obliged to live there -on the memory of what was in days gone by. The heavy green shutters are -closed; the high steps, though stoutly built, are shaky after these years -of disuse; the host of faithful servants who kept its state are nearly -all laid side by side at Carvel Hall. Harvey and Chess and Scipio are no -more. The kitchen, whither a boyish hunger oft directed my eyes at -twilight, shines not with the welcoming gleam of yore. Chess no longer -prepares the dainties which astonished Mr. Carvel's guests, and which he -alone could cook. The coach still stands in the stables where Harvey -left it, a lumbering relic of those lumbering times when methinks there -was more of goodwill and less of haste in the world. The great brass -knocker, once resplendent from Scipio's careful hand, no longer -fantastically reflects the guest as he beats his tattoo, and Mr. Peale's -portrait of my grandfather is gone from the dining-room wall, adorning, -as you know, our own drawing-room at Calvert House. - -I shut my eyes, and there comes to me unbidden that dining-room in -Marlborough Street of a gray winter's afternoon, when I was but a lad. -I see my dear grandfather in his wig and silver-laced waistcoat and his -blue velvet coat, seated at the head of the table, and the precise Scipio -has put down the dumb-waiter filled with shining cut-glass at his left -hand, and his wine chest at his right, and with solemn pomp driven his -black assistants from the room. Scipio was Mr. Carvel's butler. He was -forbid to light the candles after dinner. As dark grew on, Mr. Carvel -liked the blazing logs for light, and presently sets the decanter on the -corner of the table and draws nearer the fire, his guests following. I -recall well how jolly Governor Sharpe, who was a frequent visitor with -us, was wont to display a comely calf in silk stocking; and how Captain -Daniel Clapsaddle would spread his feet with his toes out, and settle his -long pipe between his teeth. And there were besides a host of others who -sat at that fire whose names have passed into Maryland's history,--Whig -and Tory alike. And I remember a tall slip of a lad who sat listening by -the deep-recessed windows on the street, which somehow are always covered -in these pictures with a fine rain. Then a coach passes,--a mahogany -coach emblazoned with the Manners's coat of arms, and Mistress Dorothy -and her mother within. And my young lady gives me one of those demure -bows which ever set my heart agoing like a smith's hammer of a Monday. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -SOME MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD - -A traveller who has all but gained the last height of the great mist- -covered mountain looks back over the painful crags he has mastered to -where a light is shining on the first easy slope. That light is ever -visible, for it is Youth. - -After nigh fourscore and ten years of life that Youth is nearer to me now -than many things which befell me later. I recall as yesterday the day -Captain Clapsaddle rode to the Hall, his horse covered with sweat, and -the reluctant tidings of Captain Jack Carvel's death on his lips. And -strangely enough that day sticks in my memory as of delight rather than -sadness. When my poor mother had gone up the stairs on my grandfather's -arm the strong soldier took me on his knee, and drawing his pistol from -his holster bade me snap the lock, which I was barely able to do. And -he told me wonderful tales of the woods beyond the mountains, and of the -painted men who tracked them; much wilder and fiercer they were than -those stray Nanticokes I had seen from time to time near Carvel Hall. -And when at last he would go I clung to him, so he swung me to the back -of his great horse Ronald, and I seized the bridle in my small hands. -The noble beast, like his master, loved a child well, and he cantered off -lightly at the captain's whistle, who cried "bravo" and ran by my side -lest I should fall. Lifting me off at length he kissed me and bade me -not to annoy my mother, the tears in his eyes again. And leaping on -Ronald was away for the ferry with never so much as a look behind, -leaving me standing in the road. - -And from that time I saw more of him and loved him better than any man -save my grandfather. He gave me a pony on my next birthday, and a little -hogskin saddle made especially by Master Wythe, the London saddler in the -town, with a silver-mounted bridle. Indeed, rarely did the captain -return from one of his long journeys without something for me and a -handsome present for my mother. Mr. Carvel would have had him make his -home with us when we were in town, but this he would not do. He lodged -in Church Street, over against the Coffee House, dining at that hostelry -when not bidden out, or when not with us. He was much sought after. -I believe there was scarce a man of note in any of the colonies not -numbered among his friends. 'Twas said he loved my mother, and could -never come to care for any other woman, and he promised my father in the -forests to look after her welfare and mine. This promise, you shall see, -he faithfully kept. - -Though you have often heard from my lips the story of my mother, I must -for the sake of those who are to come after you, set it down here as -briefly as I may. My grandfather's bark 'Charming Sally', Captain -Stanwix, having set out from Bristol on the 15th of April, 1736, with a -fair wind astern and a full cargo of English goods below, near the -Madeiras fell in with foul weather, which increased as she entered the -trades. Captain Stanwix being a prudent man, shortened sail, knowing the -harbour of Funchal to be but a shallow bight in the rock, and worse than -the open sea in a southeaster. The third day he hove the Sally to; being -a stout craft and not overladen she weathered the gale with the loss of a -jib, and was about making topsails again when a full-rigged ship was -descried in the offing giving signals of distress. Night was coming on -very fast, and the sea was yet running too high for a boat to live, but -the gallant captain furled his topsails once more to await the morning. -It could be seen from her signals that the ship was living throughout the -night, but at dawn she foundered before the Sally's boats could be put in -the water; one of them was ground to pieces on the falls. Out of the -ship's company and passengers they picked up but five souls, four sailors -and a little girl of two years or thereabouts. The men knew nothing more -of her than that she had come aboard at Brest with her mother, a quiet, -delicate lady who spoke little with the other passengers. The ship was -'La Favourite du Roy', bound for the French Indies. - -Captain Stanwix's wife, who was a good, motherly person, took charge of -the little orphan, and arriving at Carvel Hall delivered her to my -grandfather, who brought her up as his own daughter. You may be sure the -emblem of Catholicism found upon her was destroyed, and she was baptized -straightway by Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, into the -Established Church. Her clothes were of the finest quality, and her -little handkerchief had worked into the corner of it a coronet, with the -initials "E de T" beside it. Around her neck was that locket with the -gold chain which I have so often shown you, on one side of which is the -miniature of the young officer in his most Christian Majesty's uniform, -and on the other a yellow-faded slip of paper with these words: "Elle est -la mienne, quoiqu'elle ne porte pas mou nom." "She is mine, although she -does not bear my name." - -My grandfather wrote to the owners of 'La Favourite du Roy', and likewise -directed his English agent to spare nothing in the search for some clew -to the child's identity. All that he found was that the mother had been -entered on the passenger-list as Madame la Farge, of Paris, and was bound -for Martinico. Of the father there was no trace whatever. The name "la -Farge" the agent, Mr. Dix, knew almost to a certainty was assumed, and -the coronet on the handkerchief implied that the child was of noble -parentage. The meaning conveyed by the paper in the locket, which was -plainly a clipping from a letter, was such that Mr. Carvel never showed -it to my mother, and would have destroyed it had he not felt that some -day it might aid in solving the mystery. So he kept it in his strongbox, -where he thought it safe from prying eyes. But my Uncle Grafton, ever a -deceitful lad, at length discovered the key and read the paper, and -afterwards used the knowledge he thus obtained as a reproach and a taunt -against my mother. I cannot even now write his name without repulsion. - -This new member of the household was renamed Elizabeth Carvel, though -they called her Bess, and of a course she was greatly petted and spoiled, -and ruled all those about her. As she grew from childhood to womanhood -her beauty became talked about, and afterwards, when Mistress Carvel went -to the Assembly, a dozen young sparks would crowd about the door of her -coach, and older and more serious men lost their heads on her account. - -Her devotion to Mr. Carvel was such, however, that she seemed to care but -little for the attention she received, and she continued to grace his -board and entertain his company. He fairly worshipped her. It was his -delight to surprise her with presents from England, with rich silks and -brocades for gowns, for he loved to see her bravely dressed. The spinet -he gave her, inlaid with ivory, we have still. And he caused a chariot -to be made for her in London, and she had her own horses and her groom in -the Carvel livery. - -People said it was but natural that she should fall in love with Captain -Jack, my father. He was the soldier of the family, tall and straight and -dashing. He differed from his younger brother Grafton as day from night. -Captain Jack was open and generous, though a little given to rash -enterprise and madcap adventure. He loved my mother from a child. His -friend Captain Clapsaddle loved her too, and likewise Grafton, but it -soon became evident that she would marry Captain Jack or nobody. He was -my grandfather's favourite, and though Mr. Carvel had wished him more -serious, his joy when Bess blushingly told him the news was a pleasure to -see. And Grafton turned to revenge; he went to Mr. Carvel with the paper -he had taken from the strong-box and claimed that my mother was of -spurious birth and not fit to marry a Carvel. He afterwards spread the -story secretly among the friends of the family. By good fortune little -harm arose therefrom, since all who knew my mother loved her, and were -willing to give her credit for the doubt; many, indeed, thought the story -sprang from Grafton's jealousy and hatred. Then it was that Mr. Carvel -gave to Grafton the estate in Kent County and bade him shift for himself, -saying that he washed his hands of a son who had acted such a part. - -But Captain Clapsaddle came to the wedding in the long drawing-room at -the Hall and stood by Captain Jack when he was married, and kissed the -bride heartily. And my mother cried about this afterwards, and said that -it grieved her sorely that she should have given pain to such a noble -man. - -After the blow which left her a widow, she continued to keep Mr. Carvel's -home. I recall her well, chiefly as a sad and beautiful woman, stately -save when she kissed me with passion and said that I bore my father's -look. She drooped like the flower she was, and one spring day my -grandfather led me to receive her blessing and to be folded for the last -time in those dear arms. With a smile on her lips she rose to heaven to -meet my father. And she lies buried with the rest of the Carvels at the -Hall, next to the brave captain, her husband. - -And so I grew up with my grandfather, spending the winters in town and -the long summers on the Eastern Shore. I loved the country best, and the -old house with its hundred feet of front standing on the gentle slope -rising from the river's mouth, the green vines Mr. Carvel had fetched -from England all but hiding the brick, and climbing to the angled roof; -and the velvet green lawn of silvery grass brought from England, -descending gently terrace by terrace to the waterside, where lay our -pungies and barges. There was then a tiny pillared porch framing the -front door, for our ancestors never could be got to realize the Maryland -climate, and would rarely build themselves wide verandas suitable to that -colony. At Carvel Hall we had, to be sure, the cool spring house under -the willows for sultry days, with its pool dished out for bathing; and a -trellised arbour, and octagonal summer house with seats where my mother -was wont to sit sewing while my grandfather dreamed over his pipe. On -the lawn stood the oaks and walnuts and sycamores which still cast their -shade over it, and under them of a summer's evening Mr. Carvel would have -his tea alone; save oftentimes when a barge would come swinging up the -river with ten velvet-capped blacks at the oars, and one of our friendly -neighbours--Mr. Lloyd or Mr. Bordley, or perchance little Mr. Manners-- -would stop for a long evening with him. They seldom came without their -ladies and children. What romps we youngsters had about the old place -whilst our elders talked their politics. - -In childhood the season which delighted me the most was spring. I would -count the days until St. Taminas, which, as you knew, falls on the first -of May. And the old custom was for the young men to deck themselves out -as Indian bucks and sweep down on the festivities around the Maypole on -the town green, or at night to surprise the guests at a ball and force -the gentlemen to pay down a shilling, and sometimes a crown apiece, and -the host to give them a bowl of punch. Then came June. My grandfather -celebrated his Majesty's birthday in his own jolly fashion, and I had my -own birthday party on the tenth. And on the fifteenth, unless it chanced -upon a Sunday, my grandfather never failed to embark in his pinnace at -the Annapolis dock for the Hall. Once seated in the stern between Mr. -Carvel's knees, what rapture when at last we shot out into the blue -waters of the bay and I thought of the long summer of joy before me. -Scipio was generalissimo of these arrangements, and was always at the -dock punctually at ten to hand my grandfather in, a ceremony in which he -took great pride, and to look his disapproval should we be late. As he -turned over the key of the town house he would walk away with a stern -dignity to marshal the other servants in the horse-boat. - -One fifteenth of June two children sat with bated breath in the pinnace, ---Dorothy Manners and myself. Mistress Dolly was then as mischievous a -little baggage as ever she proved afterwards. She was coming to pass a -week at the Hall, her parents, whose place was next to ours, having gone -to Philadelphia on a visit. We rounded Kent Island, which lay green and -beautiful in the flashing waters, and at length caught sight of the old -windmill, with its great arms majestically turning, and the cupola of -Carvel House shining white among the trees; and of the upper spars of the -shipping, with sails neatly furled, lying at the long wharves, where the -English wares Mr. Carvel had commanded for the return trips were -unloading. Scarce was the pinnace brought into the wind before I had -leaped ashore and greeted with a shout the Hall servants drawn up in a -line on the green, grinning a welcome. Dorothy and I scampered over the -grass and into the cool, wide house, resting awhile on the easy sloping -steps within, hand in hand. And then away for that grand tour of -inspection we had been so long planning together. How well I recall that -sunny afternoon, when the shadows of the great oaks were just beginning -to lengthen. Through the greenhouses we marched, monarchs of all we -surveyed, old Porphery, the gardener, presenting Mistress Dolly with a -crown of orange blossoms, for which she thanked him with a pretty -courtesy her governess had taught her. Were we not king and queen -returned to our summer palace? And Spot and Silver and Song and Knipe, -the wolf-hound, were our train, though not as decorous as rigid etiquette -demanded, since they were forever running after the butterflies. On we -went through the stiff, box-bordered walks of the garden, past the -weather-beaten sundial and the spinning-house and the smoke-house to the -stables. Here old Harvey, who had taught me to ride Captain Daniel's -pony, is equerry, and young Harvey our personal attendant; old Harvey -smiles as we go in and out of the stalls rubbing the noses of our trusted -friends, and gives a gruff but kindly warning as to Cassandra's heels. -He recalls my father at the same age. - -Jonas Tree, the carpenter, sits sunning himself on his bench before the -shop, but mysteriously disappears when he sees us, and returns presently -with a little ship he has fashioned for me that winter, all complete with -spars and sails, for Jonas was a shipwright on the Severn in the old -country before he came as a king's passenger to the new. Dolly and I -are off directly to the backwaters of the river, where the new boat is -launched with due ceremony as the Conqueror, his Majesty's latest ship- -of-the-line. Jonas himself trims her sails, and she sets off right -gallantly across the shallows, heeling to the breeze for all the world -like a real man-o'-war. Then the King would fain cruise at once against -the French, but Queen Dorothy must needs go with him. His Majesty points -out that when fighting is to be done, a ship of war is no place for a -woman, whereat her Majesty stamps her little foot and throws her crown of -orange blossoms from her, and starts off for the milk-house in high -dudgeon, vowing she will play no more. - -And it ends as it ever will end, be the children young or old, for the -French pass from his Majesty's mind and he runs after his consort to -implore forgiveness, leaving poor Jonas to take care of the Conqueror. - -How short those summer days? All too short for the girl and boy who had -so much to do in them. The sun rising over the forest often found us -peeping through the blinds, and when he sank into the bay at night we -were still running, tired but happy, and begging patient Hester for half -an hour more. - -"Lawd, Marse Dick," I can hear her say, "you an' Miss Dolly's been on -yo' feet since de dawn. And so's I, honey." - -And so we had. We would spend whole days on the wharves, all bustle and -excitement, sometimes seated on the capstan of the Sprightly Bess or -perched in the nettings of the Oriole, of which ship old Stanwix was now -captain. He had grown gray in Mr. Carvel's service, and good Mrs. -Stanwix was long since dead. Often we would mount together on the little -horse Captain Daniel had given me, Dorothy on a pillion behind, to go -with my grandfather to inspect the farm. Mr. Starkie, the overseer, -would ride beside us, his fowling-piece slung over his shoulder and his -holster on his hip; a kind man and capable, and unlike Mr. Evans, my -Uncle Grafton's overseer, was seldom known to use his firearms or the -rawhide slung across his saddle. The negroes in their linsey-woolsey -jackets and checked trousers would stand among the hills grinning at us -children as we passed; and there was not one of them, nor of the white -servants for that matter, that I could not call by name. - -And all this time I was busily wooing Mistress Dolly; but she, little -minx, would give me no satisfaction. I see her standing among the -strawberries, her black hair waving in the wind, and her red lips redder -still from the stain. And the sound of her childish voice comes back to -me now after all these years. And this was my first proposal: - -"Dorothy, when you grow up and I grow up, you will marry me, and I shall -give you all these strawberries." - -"I will marry none but a soldier," says she, "and a great man." - -"Then will I be a soldier," I cried, "and greater than the Governor -himself." And I believed it. - -"Papa says I shall marry an earl," retorts Dorothy, with a toss of her -pretty head. - -"There are no earls among us," I exclaimed hotly, for even then I had -some of that sturdy republican spirit which prevailed among the younger -generation. "Our earls are those who have made their own way, like my -grandfather." For I had lately heard Captain Clapsaddle say this and -much more on the subject. But Dorothy turned up her nose. - -"I shall go home when I am eighteen,"--she said, "and I shall meet his -Majesty the King." - -And to such an argument I found no logical answer. - -Mr. Marmaduke Manners and his lady came to fetch Dorothy home. He was a -foppish little gentleman who thought more of the cut of his waistcoat -than of the affairs of the province, and would rather have been bidden to -lead the assembly ball than to sit in council with his Excellency the -Governor. My first recollection of him is of contempt. He must needs -have his morning punch just so, and complained whiningly of Scipio if -some perchance were spilled on the glass. He must needs be taken abroad -in a chair when it rained. And though in the course of a summer he was -often at Carvel Hall he never tarried long, and came to see Mr. Carvel's -guests rather than Mr. Carvel. He had little in common with my -grandfather, whose chief business and pleasure was to promote industry -on his farm. Mr. Marmaduke was wont to rise at noon, and knew not wheat -from barley, or good leaf from bad; his hands he kept like a lady's, -rendering them almost useless by the long lace on the sleeves, and his -chief pastime was card-playing. It was but reasonable therefore, when -the troubles with the mother country began, that he chose the King's side -alike from indolence and contempt for things republican. - -Of Mrs. Manners I shall say more by and by. - -I took a mischievous delight in giving Mr. Manners every annoyance my -boyish fancy could conceive. The evening of his arrival he and Mr. -Carvel set out for a stroll about the house, Mr. Marmaduke mincing his -steps, for it had rained that morning. And presently they came upon the -windmill with its long arms moving lazily in the light breeze, near -touching the ground as they passed, for the mill was built in the Dutch -fashion. I know not what moved me, but hearing Mr. Manners carelessly -humming a minuet while my grandfather explained the usefulness of the -mill, I seized hold of one of the long arms as it swung by, and before -the gentlemen could prevent was carried slowly upwards. Dorothy -screamed, and her father stood stock still with amazement and fear, Mr. -Carvel being the only one who kept his presence of mind. "Hold on tight, -Richard!" I heard him cry. It was dizzy riding, though the motion was -not great, and before I had reached the right angle I regretted my -rashness. I caught a glimpse of the Bay with the red sun on it, and -as I turned saw far below me the white figure of Ivie Rawlinson, the -Scotch miller, who had run out. "O haith!" he shouted. "Hand fast, -Mr. Richard!"--And so I clung tightly and came down without much -inconvenience, though indifferently glad to feel the ground again. - -Mr. Marmaduke, as I expected, was in a great temper, and swore he had -not had such a fright for years. He looked for Mr. Carvel to cane me -stoutly: But Ivie laughed heartily, and said: "I wad yell gang far for -anither laddie wi' the spunk, Mr. Manners," and with a sly look at my -grandfather, "Ilka day we hae some sic whigmeleery." - -I think Mr. Carvel was not ill pleased with the feat, or with Mr. -Marmaduke's way of taking it. For afterwards I overheard him telling the -story to Colonel Lloyd, and both gentlemen laughing over Mr. Manners's -discomfiture. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -CAUGHT BY THE TIDE - -It is a nigh impossible task on the memory to trace those influences by -which a lad is led to form his life's opinions, and for my part I hold -that such things are bred into the bone, and that events only serve to -strengthen them. In this way only can I account for my bitterness, at a -very early age, against that King whom my seeming environment should have -made me love. For my grandfather was as stanch a royalist as ever held -a cup to majesty's health. And children are most apt before they can -reason for themselves to take the note from those of their elders who -surround them. It is true that many of Mr. Carvel's guests were of the -opposite persuasion from him: Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll, Mr. Lloyd and -Mr. Bordley, and many others, including our friend Captain Clapsaddle. -And these gentlemen were frequently in argument, but political discussion -is Greek to a lad. - -Mr. Carvel, as I have said, was most of his life a member of the Council, -a man from whom both Governor Sharpe and Governor Eden were glad to take -advice because of his temperate judgment and deep knowledge of the people -of the province. At times, when his Council was scattered, Governor -Sharpe would consult Mr. Carvel alone, and often have I known my -grandfather to embark in haste from the Hall in response to a call from -his Excellency. - -'Twas in the latter part of August, in the year 1765, made memorable by -the Stamp Act, that I first came in touch with the deep-set feelings of -the times then beginning, and I count from that year the awakening of the -sympathy which determined my career. One sultry day I was wading in the -shallows after crabs, when the Governor's messenger came drifting in, all -impatience at the lack of wind. He ran to the house to seek Mr. Carvel, -and I after him, with all a boy's curiosity, as fast as my small legs -would carry me. My grandfather hurried out to order his barge to be got -ready at once, so that I knew something important was at hand. At first -he refused me permission to go, but afterwards relented, and about eleven -in the morning we pulled away strongly, the ten blacks bending to the -oars as if their lives were at stake. - -A wind arose before we sighted Greensbury Point, and I saw a bark sailing -in, but thought nothing of this until Mr. Carvel, who had been silent and -preoccupied, called for his glass and swept her decks. She soon -shortened sail, and went so leisurely that presently our light barge drew -alongside, and I perceived Mr. Zachariah Hood, a merchant of the town, -returning from London, hanging over her rail. Mr. Hood was very pale -in spite of his sea-voyage; he flung up his cap at our boat, but Mr. -Carvel's salute in return was colder than he looked for. As we came -in view of the dock, a fine rain was setting in, and to my astonishment -I beheld such a mass of people assembled as I had never seen, and scarce -standing-room on the wharves. We were to have gone to the Governor's -wharf in the Severn, but my grandfather changed his intention at once. -Many of the crowd greeted him as we drew near them, and, having landed, -respectfully made room for him to pass through. I followed him a-tremble -with excitement and delight over such an unwonted experience. We had -barely gone ten paces, however, before Mr. Carvel stopped abreast of Mr. -Claude, mine host of the Coffee House, who cried: - -"Hast seen his Majesty's newest representative, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Mr. Hood is on board the bark, sir," replied my grandfather. "I take it -you mean Mr. Hood." - -"Ay, that I do; Mr. Zachariah Hood, come to lick stamps for his brother- -colonists." - -"After licking his Majesty's boots," says a wag near by, which brings a -laugh from those about us. I remembered that I had heard some talk as to -how Mr. Hood had sought and obtained from King George the office of Stamp -Distributor for the province. Now, my grandfather, God rest him! was as -doughty an old gentleman as might well be, and would not listen without -protest to remarks which bordered sedition. He had little fear of things -below, and none of a mob. - -"My masters," he shouted, with a flourish of his stick, so stoutly that -people fell back from him, "know that ye are met against the law, and -endanger the peace of his Lordship's government." - -"Good enough, Mr. Carvel," said Claude, who seemed to be the spokesman. -"But how if we are stamped against law and his Lordship's government? -How then, sir? Your honour well knows we have naught against either, -and are as peaceful a mob as ever assembled." - -This brought on a great laugh, and they shouted from all sides, "How -then, Mr. Carvel?" And my grandfather, perceiving that he would lose -dignity by argument, and having done his duty by a protest, was wisely -content with that. They opened wider the lane for him to pass through, -and he made his way, erect and somewhat defiant, to Mr. Pryse's, the -coachmaker opposite, holding me by the hand. The second storey of -Pryse's shop had a little balcony standing out in front, and here we -established ourselves, that we might watch what was going forward. - -The crowd below grew strangely silent as the bark came nearer and nearer, -until Mr. Hood showed himself on the poop, when there rose a storm of -hisses, mingled with shouts of derision. "How goes it at St. James, Mr. -Hood?" and "Have you tasted his Majesty's barley?" And some asked him -if he was come as their member of Parliament. Mr. Hood dropped a bow, -though what he said was drowned. The bark came in prettily enough, men -in the crowd even catching her lines and making them fast to the piles. -A gang-plank was thrown over. "Come out, Mr. Hood," they cried; "we are -here to do you honour, and to welcome you home again." There were -leather breeches with staves a-plenty around that plank, and faces that -meant no trifling. "McNeir, the rogue," exclaimed Mr. Carvel, "and that -hulk of a tanner, Brown. And I would know those smith's shoulders in a -thousand." "Right, sir," says Pryse, "and 'twill serve them proper. -when the King's troops come among them for quartering." Pryse being the -gentry's patron, shaped his politics according to the company he was in: -he could ill be expected to seize one of his own ash spokes and join the -resistance. Just then I caught a glimpse of Captain Clapsaddle on the -skirts of the crowd, and with him Mr. Swain and some of the dissenting -gentry. And my boyish wrath burst forth against that man smirking and -smiling on the decks of the bark, so that I shouted shrilly: "Mr. Hood -will be cudgelled and tarred as he deserves," and shook my little fist at -him, so that many under us laughed and cheered me. Mr. Carvel pushed me -back into the window and out of their sight. - -The crew of the bark had assembled on the quarterdeck, stout English tars -every man of them, armed with pikes and belaying-pins; and at a word from -the mate they rushed in a body over the plank. Some were thrust off into -the water, but so fierce was their onset that others gained the wharf, -laying sharply about them in all directions, but getting full as many -knocks as they gave. For a space there was a very bedlam of cries and -broken heads, those behind in the mob surging forward to reach the -scrimmage, forcing their own comrades over the edge. McNeir had his -thigh broken by a pike, and was dragged back after the first rush was -over; and the mate of the bark was near to drowning, being rescued, -indeed, by Graham, the tanner. Mr. Hood stood white in the gangway, -dodging a missile now and then, waiting his chance, which never came. -For many of the sailors were captured and carried bodily to the "Rose and -Crown" and the "Three Blue Balls," where they became properly drunk on -Jamaica rum; others made good their escape on board. And at length the -bark cast off again, amidst jeers and threats, and one-third of her crew -missing, and drifted slowly back to the roads. - -From the dock, after all was quiet, Mr. Carvel stepped into his barge and -rowed to the Governor's, whose house was prettily situated near Hanover -Street, with ground running down to the Severn. His Excellency appeared -much relieved to see my grandfather; Mr. Daniel Dulany was with him, and -the three gentlemen at once repaired to the Governor's writing-closet for -consultation. - -Mr. Carvel's town house being closed, we stopped with his Excellency. -There were, indeed, scarce any of the gentry in town at that season save -a few of the Whig persuasion. Excitement ran very high; farmers flocked -in every day from the country round about to take part in the -demonstration against the Act. Mr. Hood's storehouse was burned to the -ground. Mr. Hood getting ashore by stealth, came, however, unmolested to -Annapolis and offered at a low price the goods he had brought out in the -bark, thinking thus to propitiate his enemies. This step but inflamed -them the more. - -My grandfather having much business to look to, I was left to my own -devices, and the devices of an impetuous lad of twelve are not always -such as his elders would choose for him. I was continually burning with -a desire to see what was proceeding in the town, and hearing one day a -great clamour and tolling of bells, I ran out of the Governor's gate and -down Northwest Street to the Circle, where a strange sight met my eyes. -A crowd like that I had seen on the dock had collected there, Mr. Swain -and Mr. Hammond and other barristers holding them in check. Mounted -on a one-horse cart was a stuffed figure of the detested Mr. Hood. -Mr. Hammond made a speech, but for the laughter and cheering I could not -catch a word of it. I pushed through the people, as a boy will, diving -between legs to get a better view, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, -bringing me up suddenly. And I recognized Mr. Matthias Tilghman, and -with him was Mr. Samuel Chase. - -"Does your grandfather know you are here, lad?" said Mr. Tilghman. - -I paused a moment for breath before I answered: "He attended the rally -at the dock himself, sir, and I believe enjoyed it." - -Both gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Chase remarked that if all the other party -were like Mr. Carvel, troubles would soon cease. "I mean not Grafton," -says he, with a wink at Mr. Tilghman. - -"I'll warrant, Richard, your uncle would be but ill pleased to see you in -such company." - -"Nay, sir," I replied, for I never feared to speak up, "there are you -wrong. I think it would please my uncle mightily." - -"The lad hath indifferent penetration," said Mr, Tilghman, laughing, and -adding more soberly: "If you never do worse than this, Richard, Maryland -may some day be proud of you." - -Mr. Hammond having finished his speech, a paper was placed in the hand of -the effigy, and the crowd bore it shouting and singing to the hill, where -Mr. John Shaw, the city carpenter, had made a gibbet. There nine and -thirty lashes were bestowed on the unfortunate image, the people crying -out that this was the Mosaic Law. And I cried as loud as any, though I -knew not the meaning of the words. They hung Mr. Hood to the gibbet and -set fire to a tar barrel under him, and so left him. - -The town wore a holiday look that day, and I was loth to go back to -the Governor's house. Good patriots' shops were closed, their owners -parading as on Sunday in their best, pausing in knots at every corner -to discuss the affair with which the town simmered. I encountered old -Farris, the clockmaker, in his brown coat besprinkled behind with powder -from his queue. "How now, Master Richard?" says he, merrily. "This is -no place for young gentlemen of your persuasion." - -Next I came upon young Dr. Courtenay, the wit of the Tuesday Club, of -whom I shall have more to say hereafter. He was taking the air with Mr. -James Fotheringay, Will's eldest brother, but lately back from Oxford and -the Temple. - -The doctor wore five-pound ruffles and a ten-pound wig, was dressed in -cherry silk, and carried a long, clouded cane. His hat had the latest -cock, for he was our macaroni of Annapolis. - -"Egad, Richard," he cries, "you are the only other loyalist I have seen -abroad to-day." - -I remember swelling with indignation at the affront. "I call them -Tories, sir," I flashed back, "and I am none such." "No Tory!" says he, -nudging Mr. Fotheringay, who was with him; "I had as lief believe your -grandfather hated King George." I astonished them both by retorting that -Mr. Carvel might think as he pleased, that being every man's right; but -that I chose to be a Whig. "I would tell you as a friend, young man," -replied the doctor, "that thy politics are not over politic." And they -left me puzzling, laughing with much relish over some catch in the -doctor's words. As for me, I could perceive no humour in them. - -It was now near six of the clock, but instead of going direct to the -Governor's I made my way down Church Street toward the water. Near the -dock I saw many people gathered in the street in front of the "Ship" -tavern, a time-honoured resort much patronized by sailors. My curiosity -led me to halt there also. The "Ship" had stood in that place nigh on to -three-score years, it was said. Its latticed windows were swung open, -and from within came snatches of "Tom Bowling," "Rule Britannia," and -many songs scarce fit for a child to hear. Now and anon some one in the -street would throw back a taunt to these British sentiments, which went -unheeded. "They be drunk as lords," said Weld, the butcher's apprentice, -"and when they comes out we'll hev more than one broken head in this -street." The songs continuing, he cried again, "Come out, d-n ye." Weld -had had more than his own portion of rum that day. Spying me seated on -the gate-post opposite, he shouted: "So ho, Master Carvel, the streets -are not for his Majesty's supporters to-day." Other artisans who were -there bade him leave me in peace, saying that my grandfather was a good -friend of the people. The matter might have ended there had I been older -and wiser, but the excitement of the day had gone to my head like wine. -"I am as stout a patriot as you, Weld," I shouted back, and flushed at -the cheering that followed. And Weld ran up to me, and though I was a -good piece of a lad, swung me lightly onto his shoulder. "Harkee, Master -Richard," he said, "I can get nothing out of the poltroons by shouting. -Do you go in and say that Weld will fight any mother's son of them -single-handed." - -"For shame, to send a lad into a tavern," said old Bobbins, who had known -my grandfather these many years. But the desire for a row was so great -among the rest that they silenced him. Weld set me down, and I, nothing -loth, ran through the open door. - -I had never before been in the "Ship," nor, indeed, in any tavern save -that of Master Dingley, near Carvel Hall. The "Ship" was a bare place -enough, with low black beams and sanded floor, and rough tables and -chairs set about. On that September evening it was stifling hot; and -the odours from the men, and the spilled rum and tobacco smoke, well-nigh -overpowered me. The room was filled with a motley gang of sailors, -mostly from the bark Mr. Hood had come on, and some from H.M.S. Hawk, -then lying in the harbour. - -A strapping man-o'-war's-man sat near the door, his jacket thrown open -and his great chest bared, and when he perceived me he was in the act of -proposing a catch; 'twas "The Great Bell o' Lincoln," I believe; and he -held a brimming cup of bumbo in his hand. In his surprise he set it -awkwardly down again, thereby spilling full half of it. "Avast," says -he, with an oath, "what's this come among us?" and he looked me over -with a comical eye. "A d-d provincial," he went on scornfully, "but a -gentleman's son, or Jack Ball's a liar." Whereupon his companions rose -from their seats and crowded round me. More than one reeled against me. -And though I was somewhat awed by the strangeness of that dark, ill- -smelling room, and by the rough company in which I found myself, I held -my ground, and spoke up as strongly as I might. - -"Weld, the butcher's apprentice, bids me say he will fight any man among -you single-handed." - -"So ho, my little gamecock, my little schooner with a swivel," said he -who had called himself Jack Ball, "and where can this valiant butcher be -found?" - -"He waits in the street," I answered more boldly. - -"Split me fore and aft if he waits long," said Jack, draining the rest of -his rum. And picking me up as easily as did Weld he rushed out of the -door, and after him as many of his mates as could walk or stagger -thither. - -In the meantime the news had got abroad in the street that the butcher's -apprentice was to fight one of the Hawk's men, and when I emerged from -the tavern the crowd had doubled, and people were running hither in all -haste from both directions. But that fight was never to be. Big Jack -Ball had scarce set me down and shouted a loud defiance, shaking his fist -at Weld, who stood out opposite, when a soldierly man on a great horse -turned the corner and wheeled between the combatants. I knew at a glance -it was Captain Clapsaddle, and guiltily wished myself at the Governor's. -The townspeople knew him likewise, and many were slinking away even -before he spoke, as his charger stood pawing the ground. - -"What's this I hear, you villain," said he to Weld, in his deep, ringing -voice, "that you have not only provoked a row with one of the King's -sailors, but have dared send a child into that tavern with your fool's -message?" - -Weld was awkward and sullen enough, and no words came to him. - -"Your tongue, you sot," the captain went on, drawing his sword in his -anger, "is it true you have made use of a gentleman's son for your low -purposes?" - -But Weld was still silent, and not a sound came from either side until -old Robbins spoke up. - -"There are many here can say I warned him, your honour," he said. - -"Warned him!" cried the captain. "Mr. Carvel has just given you twenty -pounds for your wife, and you warned him!" - -Robbins said no more; and the butcher's apprentice, hanging his head, -as well he might before the captain, I was much moved to pity for him, -seeing that my forwardness had in some sense led him on. - -"Twas in truth my fault, captain," I cried out. The captain looked at -me, and said nothing. After that the butcher made bold to take up his -man's defence. - -"Master Carvel was indeed somewhat to blame, sir," said he, "and Weld is -in liquor." - -"And I'll have him to pay for his drunkenness," said Captain Clapsaddle, -hotly. "Get to your homes," he cried. "Ye are a lot of idle hounds, who -would make liberty the excuse for riot." He waved his sword at the pack -of them, and they scattered like sheep until none but Weld was left. -"And as for you, Weld," he continued, "you'll rue this pretty business, -or Daniel Clapsaddle never punished a cut-throat." And turning to Jack -Ball, he bade him lift me to the saddle, and so I rode with him to the -Governor's without a word; for I knew better than to talk when he was -in that mood. - -The captain was made to tarry and sup with his Excellency and my -grandfather, and I sat perforce a fourth at the table, scarce daring to -conjecture as to the outcome of my escapade. But as luck would have it, -the Governor had been that day in such worry and perplexity, and my -grandfather also, that my absence had passed unnoticed. Nor did my good -friend the captain utter a word to them of what he knew. But afterwards -he called me to him and set me upon his knee. How big, and kind, and -strong he was, and how I loved his bluff soldier's face and blunt ways. -And when at last he spoke, his words burnt deep in my memory, so that -even now I can repeat them. - -"Richard," he said, "I perceive you are like your father. I love your -spirit greatly, but you have been overrash to-day. Remember this, lad, -that you are a gentleman, the son of the bravest and truest gentleman I -have ever known, save one; and he is destined to high things." I know -now that he spoke of Colonel Washington. "And that your mother," here -his voice trembled,--"your mother was a lady, every inch of her, and too -good for this world. Remember, and seek no company, therefore, beyond -that circle in which you were born. Fear not to be kind and generous, -as I know you ever will be, but choose not intimates from the tavern." -Here the captain cleared his throat, and seemed to seek for words. -"I fear there are times coming, my lad," he went on presently, "when -every man must choose his side, and stand arrayed in his own colours. -It is not for me to shape your way of thinking. Decide in your own mind -that which is right, and when you have so decided,"--he drew his sword, -as was his habit when greatly moved, and placed his broad hand upon my -head,--"know then that God is with you, and swerve not from thy course -the width of this blade for any man." - -We sat upon a little bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the -wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the -setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have -sometimes since felt in the presence of heroes. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH - -Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as ever -wore a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved me -as much by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. The -worthy doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenly -at Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visiting -a poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but three -years of fourscore come Whitsuntide. He was universally loved and -respected in that district where he had lived so long and ably, by rich -and poor alike, and those of many creeds saw him to his last resting- -place. Mr. Carroll, of Carrollton, who was an ardent Catholic, stood -bareheaded beside the grave. - -Doctor Hilliard was indeed a beacon in a time when his profession among -us was all but darkness, and when many of the scandals of the community -might be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to prevent them. -The fault lay without doubt in his Lordship's charter, which gave to the -parishioners no voice in the choosing of their pastors. This matter was -left to Lord Baltimore's whim. Hence it was that he sent among us so -many fox-hunting and gaming parsons who read the service ill and preached -drowsy and illiterate sermons. Gaming and fox-hunting, did I say? These -are but charitable words to cover the real characters of those impostors -in holy orders, whose doings would often bring the blush of shame to your -cheeks. Nay, I have seen a clergyman drunk in the pulpit, and even in -those freer days their laxity and immorality were such that many flocked -to hear the parsons of the Methodists and Lutherans, whose simple and -eloquent words and simpler lives were worthy of their cloth. Small -wonder was it, when every strolling adventurer and soldier out of -employment took orders and found favour in his Lordship's eyes, and were -given the fattest livings in place of worthier men, that the Established -Church fell somewhat into disrepute. Far be it from me to say that there -were not good men and true in that Church, but the wag who writ this -verse, which became a common saying in Maryland, was not far wrong for -the great body of them:-- - - "Who is a monster of the first renown? - A lettered sot, a drunkard in a gown." - -My grandfather did not replace Dr. Hilliard at the Hall, afterwards -saying the prayers himself. The doctor had been my tutor, and in spite -of my waywardness and lack of love for the classics had taught me no -little Latin and Greek, and early instilled into my mind those principles -necessary for the soul's salvation. I have often thought with regret on -the pranks I played him. More than once at lesson-time have I gone off -with Hugo and young Harvey for a rabbit hunt, stealing two dogs from the -pack, and thus committing a double offence. You may be sure I was well -thrashed by Mr. Carvel, who thought the more of the latter misdoing, -though obliged to emphasize the former. The doctor would never raise his -hand against me. His study, where I recited my daily tasks, was that -small sunny room on the water side of the east wing; and I well recall -him as he sat behind his desk of a morning after prayers, his horn -spectacles perched on his high nose and his quill over his ear, and his -ink-powder and pewter stand beside him. His face would grow more serious -as I scanned my Virgil in a faltering voice, and as he descanted on a -passage my eye would wander out over the green trees and fields to the -glistening water. What cared I for "Arma virumque" at such a time? I -was watching Nebo a-fishing beyond the point, and as he waded ashore the -burden on his shoulders had a much keener interest for me than that -AEneas carried out of Troy. - -My Uncle Grafton came to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, choosing this -opportunity to become reconciled to my grandfather, who he feared had not -much longer to live. Albeit Mr. Carvel was as stout and hale as ever. -None of the mourners at the doctor's grave showed more sorrow than did -Grafton. A thousand remembrances of the good old man returned to him, -and I heard him telling Mr. Carroll and some other gentlemen, with much -emotion, how he had loved his reverend preceptor, from whom he had -learned nothing but what was good. "How fortunate are you, Richard," he -once said, "to have had such a spiritual and intellectual teacher in your -youth. Would that Philip might have learned from such a one. And I -trust you can say, my lad, that you have made the best of your -advantages, though I fear you are of a wild nature, as your father was -before you." And my uncle sighed and crossed his hands behind his back. -"'Tis perhaps better that poor John is in his grave," he said. Grafton -had a word and a smile for every one about the old place, but little -else, being, as he said, but a younger son and a poor man. I was near to -forgetting the shilling he gave Scipio. 'Twas not so unostentatiously -done but that Mr. Carvel and I marked it. And afterwards I made Scipio -give me the coin, replacing it with another, and flung it as far into the -river as ever I could throw. - -As was but proper to show his sorrow at the death of the old chaplain he -had loved so much, Grafton came to the Hall drest entirely in black. He -would have had his lady and Philip, a lad near my own age, clad likewise -in sombre colours. But my Aunt Caroline would none of them, holding it -to be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks and -laces went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse, -and Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the family -travelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathed -in flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my aunt -descended like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth, -and kissed me effusively on both cheeks. - -"And this is dear Richard?" she cried. "Philip, come at once and greet -your cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels," she continued volubly, -"but more resembles his mother, as I recall her." - -"Indeed, madam," my grandfather answered somewhat testily, "he has the -Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He has -Elizabeth's eyes." - -But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and she -had already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. "The dear old -home?" she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regarding -lovingly each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly when she -came to the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, and the -Peter Lely over the broad fireplace. "What memories they must bring to -your mind, my dear," she remarks to her husband. "'Tis cruel, as I once -said to dear papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafters we -loved so well as children." And the good lady brushes away a tear with -her embroidered pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite of us all. -But she brightens instantly and smiles at the line of servants drawn up -to welcome them. "This is Scipio, my son, who was with your grandfather -when your father was born, and before." Master Philip nods graciously in -response to Scipio's delighted bow. "And Harvey," my aunt rattles on. -"Have you any new mares to surprise us with this year, Harvey?" Harvey -not being as overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescension as was proper, -she turns again to Mr. Carvel. - -"Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the old -house. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure." And she takes off -her gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here and -another there, and drawing back for the effect. "Such a bachelor's hall -as you are keeping!" - -"We still have Willis, Caroline," remonstrates my grandfather, gravely. -"I have no fault to find with her housekeeping." - -"Of course not, father; men never notice," Aunt Caroline replies in an -aggrieved tone. And when Willis herself comes in, auguring no good from -this visit, my aunt gives her the tips of her fingers. And I imagine I -see a spark fly between them. - -As for Grafton, he was more than willing to let bygones be bygones -between his father and himself. Aunt Caroline said with feeling that -Dr. Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought a long- -separated father and son together once more. Grafton had been misjudged -and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrel had never -been of his seeking,--a statement which Mr. Carvel was at no pains to -prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father's every want. -He read his Gazette to him of a Thursday, though the old gentleman's eyes -are as good as ever. If Mr. Carvel walks out of an evening, Grafton's -arm is ever ready, and my uncle and his worthy lady are eager to take a -hand at cards before supper. "Philip, my dear," says my aunt, "thy -grandfather's slippers," or, "Philip, my love, thy grandfather's hat and -cane." But it is plain that Master Philip has not been brought up to -wait on his elders. He is curled with a novel in his grandfather's easy -chair by the window. "There is Dio, mamma, who has naught to do but -serve grandpapa," says he, and gives a pull at the cord over his head -which rings the bell about the servants' ears in the hall below. And -Dio, the whites of his eyes showing, comes running into the room. - -"It is nothing, Diomedes," says Mr. Carvel. "Master Philip will fetch -what I need.". Master Philip's papa and mamma stare at each other in a -surprise mingled with no little alarm, Master Philip being to all -appearances intent upon his book. - -"Philip," says my grandfather, gently. I had more than once heard him -speak thus, and well knew what was coming. - -"Sir," replies my cousin, without looking up. "Follow me, sir," said Mr. -Carvel, in a voice so different that Philip drops his book. They went up -the stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination. -But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel my -grandfather said quietly: "I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline." -And though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philip -another chance, he would never permit it. - -Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to his -grandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt had -poured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blue and -gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up. - -"Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerning -Richard's schooling?" - -"He shall go to King William's school in the autumn," Mr. Carvel replied. - -"In the autumn!" cried my uncle. "I do not give Philip even the short -holiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day." - -"And can repeat the best passages," my aunt chimes in. "Philip, my dear, -recite that one your father so delights in." - -However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands, -he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enough -several lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parents -greatly and my grandfather not a little. - -"I will add a crown to your savings, Philip," says his father. - -"And here is a pistole to spend as you will," says Mr. Carvel, tossing -him the piece. - -"Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift," says -Grafton, taking the pistole himself. "I will place this token of your -appreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain in -the family, sir." And my uncle looks at me significantly. - -"Let it be as I say, Grafton," persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to be -balked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to my -father. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his father -to add the first to his saving if he would. - -"And Richard must have his chance," says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as -she rises to leave the room. - -"Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard," says my uncle, smiling. "Let us -hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's." - -My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly -the trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal to my -uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which -fitted the present case marvellously well. With little ceremony I tossed -back the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojans -against accepting the Grecian horse: - - "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes." - -"Egad," cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, "the lad bath beaten you on -your own ground, Grafton." And he laughed as my grandfather only could -laugh, until the dishes rattled on the table. But my uncle thought it no -matter for jesting. - -Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and could -discuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. He denounced -the seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easy -familiarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and 'twas easy to -perceive whence his knowledge sprang. But when my fine master spoke -disparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, my -grandfather's patience came to an end. - -"And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England, -Philip?" he asked. - -"Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies," retorts -Master Philip, readily enough. - -"Not so," Mr. Carvel said gravely. "She owes her greatness to her -merchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them. And commerce must -be at the backbone of every great nation. Tradesmen!" exclaimed my -grandfather. "Where would any of us be were it not for trade? We sell -our tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return. And your father -makes a deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of his -pittance." - -My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued: -"I know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to lay -aside the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none." - -"And 'twas well I learned then to be careful," said my uncle, losing for -the instant his control, "for you loved the spend-thrift best, and I -should be but a beggar now without my wisdom." - -"I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in him -which you lacked," answered Mr. Carvel. - -Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatred -was conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shuddered to -think that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For he -detested me threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father and -mother with the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip's -with my grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelings -that he was smiling again instantly. To see once, however, the white -belly of the shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient. - -"I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father," said Grafton. - -"God knows there was little jest in what I said," replied Mr. Carvell -soberly, "and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day know -you well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old, -that I am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can become -white save by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip," -the shrewd old gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, "do not let thy -father or any other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to every -question. I recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue, -despite what he says of your reading the public prints and of forming -your own opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthy -men and true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust method -of taxation." - -Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harvey -in particular, who had come from England early in the century with my -grandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle, -the old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. "Beware -of him as has no use for horses, Master Richard," he would say; for this -trait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. At my -uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster, nor could -he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence. Harvey's -face would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves as he touched his -cap. And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. He vouchsafed but a -curt reply to all her questions, nor did her raptures over the stud -soften him in the least. She would come tripping into the stable yard, -daintily holding up her skirts, and crying, "Oh, Harvey, I have heard so -much of Tanglefoot. I must see him before I go." Tanglefoot is led out -begrudgingly enough, and Aunt Caroline goes over his points, missing the -greater part of them, and remarking on the depth of chest, which is -nothing notable in Tanglefoot. Harvey winks slyly at me the while, and -never so much as offers a word of correction. "You must take Philip to -ride, Richard, my dear," says my aunt. "His father was never as fond of -it as I could have wished. I hold that every gentleman should ride to -hounds." - -"Humph!" grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the house, - -"Master Philip to hunt, indeed! Foxes to hunt foxes!" And he gives vent -to a dry laugh over his joke, in which I cannot but join. "Horsemen -grows. Eh, Master Richard? There was Captain Jack, who jumped from the -cradle into the saddle, and I never once seen a horse get the better o' -him. And that's God's truth." And he smooths out Tanglefoot's mane, -adding reflectively, "And you be just like him. But there was scarce a -horse in the stables what wouldn't lay back his ears at Mr. Grafton, and -small blame to 'em, say I. He never dared go near 'em. Oh, Master -Philip comes by it honestly enough. She thinks old Harvey don't know a -thoroughbred when he sees one, sir. But Mrs. Grafton's no thoroughbred; -I tell 'ee that, though I'm saying nothing as to her points, mark ye. -I've seen her sort in the old country, and I've seen 'em here, and it's -the same the world over, in Injy and Chiny, too. Fine trappings don't -make the horse, and they don't take thoroughbreds from a grocer's cart. -A Philadelphy grocer," sniffs this old aristocrat. "I'd knowed her -father was a grocer had I seen her in Pall Mall with a Royal Highness, by -her gait, I may say. Thy mother was a thoroughbred, Master Richard, and -I'll tell 'ee another," he goes on with a chuckle, "Mistress Dorothy -Manners is such another; you don't mistake 'em with their high heads and -patreeshan ways, though her father be one of them accidents as will occur -in every stock. She's one to tame, sir, and I don't envy no young -gentleman the task. But this I knows," says Harvey, not heeding my red -cheeks, "that Master Philip, with all his satin small-clothes, will never -do it." - -Indeed, it was no secret that my Aunt Caroline had been a Miss Flaven, -of Philadelphia, though she would have had the fashion of our province to -believe that she belonged to the Governor's set there; and she spoke in -terms of easy familiarity of the first families of her native city, -deceiving no one save herself, poor lady. How fondly do we believe, with -the ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked under our -wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs. -Grafton Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spices and -soap and glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertised his -cargoes in the public prints. He was a broad and charitable-minded man -enough, and unassuming, but gave way at last to the pressure brought upon -him by his wife and daughter, and bought a mansion in Front Street. -Terence Flaven never could be got to stay there save to sleep, and -preferred to spend his time in his shop, which was grown greatly, -chatting with his customers, and bowing the ladies to their chariots. -I need hardly say that this worthy man was on far better terms than his -family with those personages whose society they strove so hard to attain. - -At the time of Miss Flaven's marriage to my uncle 'twas a piece of -gossip in every month that he had taken her for her dower, which was not -inconsiderable; though to hear Mr. and Mrs. Grafton talk they knew not -whence the next month's provender was to come. They went to live in Kent -County, as I have said, spending some winters in Philadelphia, where -Mr. Grafton was thought to have interests, though it never could be -discovered what his investments were. On hearing of his marriage, which -took place shortly before my father's, Mr. Carvel expressed neither -displeasure nor surprise. But he would not hear of my mother's request -to settle a portion upon his younger son. - -"He has the Kent estate, Bess," said he, "which is by far too good for -him. Never doubt but that the rogue can feather his own nest far better -than can I, as indeed he hath already done. And by the Lord," cried Mr. -Carvel, bringing his fist down upon the card-table where they sat, -"he shall never get another farthing of my money while I live, nor -afterwards, if I can help it! I would rather give it over to -Mr. Carroll to found a nunnery." - -And so that matter ended, for Mr. Carvel could not be moved from a -purpose he had once made. Nor would he make any advances whatsoever to -Grafton, or receive those hints which my uncle was forever dropping, -until at length he begged to be allowed to come to Dr. Hilliard's -funeral, a request my grandfather could not in decency refuse. 'Twas a -pathetic letter in truth, and served its purpose well, though it was not -as dust in the old gentleman's eyes. He called me into his bedroom and -told me that my Uncle Grafton was coming at last. And seeing that I -said nothing thereto, he gave me a queer look and bade me treat them -as civilly as I knew how. "I well know thy temper, Richard," said he, -"and I fear 'twill bring thee trouble enough in life. Try to control it, -my lad; take an old man's advice and try to control it." He was -in one of his gentler moods, and passed his arm about me, and together we -stood looking silently through the square panes out into the rain, at the -ducks paddling in the puddles until the darkness hid them. - -And God knows, lad that I was, I tried to be civil to them. But my -tongue rebelled at the very sight of my uncle ('twas bred into me, I -suppose), and his fairest words seemed to me to contain a hidden sting. -Once, when he spoke in his innuendo of my father, I ran from the room to -restrain some act of violence; I know not what I should have done. And -Willis found me in the deserted, study of the doctor, where my hot tears -had stained the flowered paper on the wall. She did her best to calm me, -good soul, though she had her own troubles with my Lady Caroline to think -about at the time. - -I had one experience with Master Philip before our visitors betook -themselves back to Kent, which, unfortunate as it was, I cannot but -relate here. My cousin would enter into none of those rough amusements -in which I passed my time, for fear, I took it, of spoiling his fine -broadcloths or of losing a gold buckle. He never could be got to -wrestle, though I challenged him more than once. And he was a well-built -lad, and might, with a little practice, have become skilled in that -sport. He laughed at the homespun I wore about the farm, saying it was -no costume for a gentleman's son, and begged me sneeringly to don leather -breeches. He would have none of the company of those lads with whom I -found pleasure, young Harvey, and Willis's son, who was being trained as -Mr. Starkie's assistant. Nor indeed did I disdain to join in a game with -Hugo, who had been given to me, and other negro lads. Philip saw no -sport in a wrestle or a fight between two of the boys from the quarters, -and marvelled that I could lower myself to bet with Harvey the younger. -He took not a spark of interest in the gaming cocks we raised together to -compete at the local contests and at the fair, and knew not a gaff from a -cockspur. Being one day at my wits' end to amuse my cousin, I proposed -to him a game of quoits on the green beside the spring-house, and thither -we repaired, followed by Hugo, and young Harvey come to look on. Master -Philip, not casting as well as he might, cries out suddenly to Hugo: -"Begone, you black dog! What business have you here watching a game -between gentlemen?" - -"He is my servant, cousin," I said quietly, "and no dog, if you please. -And he is under my orders, not yours." - -But Philip, having scarcely scored a point, was in a rage. "And I'll -not have him here," he shouted, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent him -stumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently: -"Ever since we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though -my father had no right in my grandfather's house." - -Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, and -remark: "'Tis all up with Master Philip now." But Philip, whatever else -he may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by the -time I had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I, -though not so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and many -more; having lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I was -able. To speak truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeing -that I could not knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and began -to study what I was doing. - -"Take off your macaroni coat," said I. "I have no wish to ruin your -clothes." - -But he only jeered in return: "Take off thy wool-sack." And Hugo, -getting to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that he -had meant no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he swore -a round oath at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at my -stomach, whereat Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was more -skilful at the science of boxing than I, though I was the better fighter, -having, I am sorry to say, fought but too often before. And presently, -when I had closed one of his eyes, his skill went all to pieces, and he -made a mad rush at me. As he went by I struck him so hard that he fell -heavily and lay motionless. - -Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent over -my cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and rejoiced -to find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. By -then, Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house, and -I saw my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as her tight -stays would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dear -Philip. And after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with all -the servants who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at the -thought that I should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she knelt -over Philip, pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousin -opened one of his eyes, and raised his hand to his head. - -"Thank Heaven he is not killed!" exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently. - -"Thank God, indeed!" echoes my uncle, and gives me a look as much as to -say that I am not to be thanked for it. "I have often warned you, sir," -he says to Mr. Carvel, "that we do not inherit from stocks and stones. -And so much has come of our charity." - -I knew, lad that I was; that he spoke of my mother; and my blood boiled -within me. - -"Have a care, sir, with your veiled insults," I cried, "or I will serve -you as I have served your son." - -Grafton threw up his hands. - -"What have we harboured, father?" says he. But Mr. Carvel seized him by -the shoulder. "Peace, Grafton, before the servants," he said, "and cease -thy crying, Caroline. The lad is not hurt." And being a tall man, six -feet in his stockings, and strong despite his age, he raised Philip from -the grass, and sternly bade him walk to the house, which he did, leaning -on his mother's arm. "As for you, Richard," my grandfather went on, "you -will go into my study." - -Into his study I went, where presently he came also, and I told him -the affair in as few words as I might. And he, knowing my hatred of -falsehood, questioned me not at all, but paced to and fro, I following -him with my eyes, and truly sorry that I had given him pain. And finally -he dismissed me, bidding me make it up with my cousin, which I was -nothing loth to do. What he said to Philip and his father I know not. -That evening we shook hands, though Philip's face was much swollen, and -my uncle smiled, and was even pleasanter than before, saying that boys -would be boys. But I think my Aunt Caroline could never wholly hide the -malice she bore me for what I had done that day. - -When at last the visitors were gone, every face on the plantation wore a -brighter look. Harvey said: "God bless their backs, which is the only -part I ever care to see of their honours." And Willis gave us a supper -fit for a king. Mr. Lloyd and his lady were with us, and Mr. Carvel told -his old stories of the time of the First George, many of which I can even -now repeat: how he and two other collegians fought half a dozen Mohocks -in Norfolk Street, and fairly beat them; and how he discovered by chance -a Jacobite refugee in Greenwich, and what came of it; nor did he forget -that oft-told episode with Dean Swift. And these he rehearsed in such -merry spirit and new guise that we scarce recognized them, and Colonel -Lloyd so choked with laughter that more than once he had to be hit -between the shoulders. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -"IF LADIES BE BUT YOUNG AND FAIR" - -No boyhood could have been happier than mine, and throughout it, ever -present with me, were a shadow and a light. The shadow was my Uncle -Grafton. I know not what strange intuition of the child made me think -of him so constantly after that visit he paid us, but often I would wake -from my sleep with his name upon my lips, and a dread at my heart. The -light--need I say?--was Miss Dorothy Manners. Little Miss Dolly was -often at the Hall after that happy week we spent together; and her home, -Wilmot House, was scarce three miles across wood and field by our -plantation roads. I was a stout little fellow enough, and before I was -twelve I had learned to follow to hounds my grandfather's guests on my -pony; and Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Carvel when they shot on the duck points. -Ay, and what may surprise you, my dears, I was given a weak little toddy -off the noggin at night, while the gentlemen stretched their limbs before -the fire, or played at whist or loo Mr. Carvel would have no milksop, so -he said. But he early impressed upon me that moderation was the mark of -a true man, even as excess was that of a weak one. - -And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House -alone. There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at -games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark -by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom. About once in the week Mr. and Mrs. -Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall. She grew -quickly--so quickly that I scarce realized--into a tall slip of a girl, -who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or impudent, in -a breath. She had as many moods as the sea. I have heard her entertain -Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, by the -hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all the same. -Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho' she gave me -no reason whatever. I believe I had held my hand over fire for her, at a -word. And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me wonder, now, -that I was not killed. It used to please her, Ivie too, to see me go the -round of the windmill, tho' she would cry out after I left the ground. -And once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie not there to -prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown at the bottom -with such force that I lay stunned for a full minute. I opened my eyes -to find her bending over me with such a look of fright and remorse upon -her face as I shall never forget. Again, walking out on the bowsprit of -the 'Oriole' while she stood watching me from the dock, I lost my balance -and fell into the water. On another occasion I fought Will Fotheringay, -whose parents had come for a visit, because he dared say he would marry -her. - -"She is to marry an earl," I cried, tho' I had thrashed another lad for -saying so. "Mr. Manners is to take her home when she is grown, to marry -her to an earl." - -"At least she will not marry you, Master Richard," sneered Will. And -then I hit him. - -Indeed, even at that early day the girl's beauty was enough to make her -talked about. And that foolish little fop, her father, had more than -once declared before a company in our dining room that it was high time -another title came into his family, and that he meant to take Dolly -abroad when she was sixteen. Lad that I was, I would mark with pain the -blush on Mrs. Manners's cheek, and clinch my fists as she tried to pass -this off as a joke of her husband's. But Dolly, who sat next me at a -side table, would make a wry little face at my angry one. - -"You shall call me 'my lady,' Richard. And sometimes, if you are good, -you shall ride inside my coroneted coach when you come home." - -Ah, that was the worst of it! The vixen was conscious of her beauty. -But her airs were so natural that young and old bowed before her. -Nothing but worship had she had from the cradle. I would that Mr. -Peale had painted her in her girlhood as a type of our Maryland lady of -quality. Harvey was right when he called her a thoroughbred. Her nose -was of patrician straightness, and the curves of her mouth came from -generations of proud ancestors. And she had blue eyes to conquer and -subdue; with long lashes to hide them under when she chose, and black -hair with blue gloss upon it in the slanting lights. I believe I loved -her best in the riding-habit that was the colour of the red holly in our -Maryland woods. At Christmas-tide, when we came to the eastern shore, we -would gallop together through miles of country, the farmers and servants -tipping and staring after her as she laid her silver-handled whip upon -her pony. She knew not the meaning of fear, and would take a fence or a -ditch that a man might pause at. And so I fell into the habit of leading -her the easy way round, for dread that she would be hurt. - -How those Christmas times of childhood come sweeping back on my memory! -Often, and without warning, my grandfather would say to me: "Richard, we -shall celebrate at the Hall this year." And it rarely turned out that -arrangements had not been made with the Lloyds and the Bordleys and the -Manners, and other neighbours, to go to the country for the holidays. I -have no occasion in these pages to mention my intimacy with the sons and -daughters of those good friends of the Carvels', Colonel Lloyd and Mr. -Bordley. Some of them are dead now, and the rest can thank God and -look back upon worthy and useful lives. And if any of these, my old -playmates, could read this manuscript, perchance they might feel a tingle -of recollection of Children's Day, when Maryland was a province. We -rarely had snow; sometimes a crust upon the ground that was melted into -paste by the noonday sun, but more frequently, so it seems to me, a -foggy, drizzly Christmas, with the fires crackling in saloon and lady's -chamber. And when my grandfather and the ladies and gentlemen, his -guests, came down the curving stairs, there were the broadly smiling -servants drawn up in the wide hall,--all who could gather there,--and the -rest on the lawn outside, to wish "Merry Chris'mas" to "de quality." The -redemptioners in front, headed by Ivie and Jonas Tree, tho' they had long -served their terms, and with them old Harvey and his son; next the house -blacks and the outside liveries, and then the oldest slaves from the -quarters. This line reached the door, which Scipio would throw open at -"de quality's" appearance, disclosing the rest of the field servants, in -bright-coloured gowns, and the little negroes on the green. Then Mr. -Carvel would make them a little speech of thanks and of good-will, and -white-haired Johnson of the senior quarters, who had been with my great- -grandfather, would start the carol in a quaver. How clear and sweet the -melody of those negro voices comes back to me through the generations! -And the picture of the hall, loaded with holly and mistletoe even to the -great arch that spanned it, with the generous bowls of egg-nog and punch -on the mahogany by the wall! And the ladies our guests, in cap and -apron, joining in the swelling hymn; ay, and the men, too. And then, -after the breakfast of sweet ham and venison, and hot bread and sausage, -made under Mrs. Willis, and tea and coffee and chocolate steaming in the -silver, and ale for the gentlemen if they preferred, came the prayers and -more carols in the big drawing-room. And then music in the big house, or -perhaps a ride afield to greet the neighbours, and fiddling and dancing -in the two big quarters, Hank's and Johnson's, when the tables were -cleared after the bountiful feast Mr. Carvel was wont to give them. -There was no stint, my dears,--naught but good cheer and praising God -in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall. - -At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes at -Colonel Lloyd's or Mr. Bordley's, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for my -grandfather dearly loved the company of the young. He himself would lead -off the minuet,--save when once or twice his Excellency Governor Sharpe -chanced to be present,--and would draw his sword with the young gallants -that the ladies might pass under. And I have seen him join merrily in -the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the company. That -was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor. We sat with the other -children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery with the tiny -rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour of the green -myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and perfume of the -dancers. And when the beauty of the evening was led out, Dolly would -lean over the rail, and pout and smile by turns. The mischievous little -baggage could hardly wait for the conquering years to come. - -They came soon enough, alack! The season Dorothy was fourteen, we had a -ball at the Hall the last day of the year. When she was that age she had -near arrived at her growth, and was full as tall as many young ladies of -twenty. I had cantered with her that morning from Wilmot House to Mr. -Lloyd's, and thence to Carvel Hall, where she was to stay to dinner. The -sun was shining warmly, and after young Harvey had taken our horses we -strayed through the house, where the servants were busy decorating, and -out into my grandfather's old English flower garden, and took the seat -by the sundial. I remember that it gave no shadow. We sat silent for -a while, Dorothy toying with old Knipe, lying at our feet, and humming -gayly the burden of a minuet. She had been flighty on the ride, with -scarce a word to say to me, for the prospect of the dance had gone to her -head. - -"Have you a new suit to wear to-night, to see the New Year in, Master -Sober?" she asked presently, looking up. "I am to wear a brocade that -came out this autumn from London, and papa says I look like a duchess -when I have my grandmother's pearls." - -"Always the ball!" cried I, slapping my boots in a temper. "Is it, -then, such a matter of importance? I am sure you have danced before--at -my birthdays in Marlboro' Street and at your own, and Will Fotheringay's, -and I know not how many others." - -"Of course," replies Dolly, sweetly; "but never with a real man. Boys -like you and Will and the Lloyds do not count. Dr. Courtenay is at -Wilmot House, and is coming to-night; and he has asked me out. Think -of it, Richard! Dr. Courtenay!" - -"A plague upon him! He is a fop!" - -"A fop!" exclaimed Dolly, her humour bettering as mine went down. "Oh, -no; you are jealous. He is more sought after than any gentleman at the -assemblies, and Miss Dulany vows his steps are ravishing. There's for -you, my lad! He may not be able to keep pace with you in the chase, but -he has writ the most delicate verses ever printed in Maryland, and no -other man in the colony can turn a compliment with his grace. Shall I -tell you more? He sat with me for over an hour last night, until mamma -sent me off to bed, and was very angry at you because I had engaged to -ride with you to-day." - -"And I suppose you wish you had stayed with him," I flung back, hotly. -"He had spun you a score of fine speeches and a hundred empty compliments -by now." - -"He had been better company than you, sir," she laughed provokingly. -"I never heard you turn a compliment in your life, and you are now -seventeen. What headway do you expect to make at the assemblies?" - -"None," I answered, rather sadly than otherwise. For she had touched -me upon a sore spot. "But if I cannot win a woman save by compliments," -I added, flaring up, "then may I pay a bachelor's tax!" - -My lady drew her whip across my knee. - -"You must tell us we are beautiful, Richard," said she, in another tone. - -"You have but to look in a pier-glass," I retorted. "And, besides, that -is not sufficient. You will want some rhyming couplet out of a mythology -before you are content." - -She laughed again. - -"Sir," answered she, "but you have wit, if you can but be got angry." - -She leaned over the dial's face, and began to draw the Latin numerals -with her finger. So arch, withal, that I forgot my ill-humour. - -"If you would but agree to stay angry for a day," she went on, in a low -tone, "perhaps--" - -"Perhaps?" - -"Perhaps you would be better company," said Dorothy. "You would surely -be more entertaining." - -"Dorothy, I love you," I said. - -"To be sure. I know that," she replied. "I think you have said that -before." - -I admitted it sadly. "But I should be a better husband than Dr. -Courtenay." - -"La!" cried she; "I am not thinking of husbands. I shall have a good -time, sir, I promise you, before I marry. And then I should never marry -you. You are much too rough, and too masterful. And you would require -obedience. I shall never obey any man. You would be too strict a -master, sir. I can see it with your dogs and your servants. And your -friends, too. For you thrash any boy who does not agree with you. I -want no rough squire for a husband. And then, you are a Whig. I could -never marry a Whig. You behaved disgracefully at King William's School -last year. Don't deny it!" - -"Deny it!" I cried warmly; "I would as soon deny that you are an arrant -flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one." - -"Yes, I shall have my fling," said the minx. "I shall begin to-night, -with you for an audience. I shall make the doctor look to himself. But -there is the dressing-bell." And as we went into the house, "I believe -my mother is a Whig, Richard. All the Brices are." - -"And yet you are a Tory?" - -"I am a loyalist," says my lady, tossing her head proudly; "and we are -one day to kiss her Majesty's hand, and tell her so. And if I were the -Queen," she finished in a flash, "I would teach you surly gentlemen not -to meddle." - -And she swept up the stairs so stately, that Scipio was moved to say -slyly: "Dem's de kind of ladies, Marse Richard, I jes dotes t' wait on!" - -Of the affair at King William's School I shall tell later. - -We had some dozen guests staying at the Hall for the ball. At dinner my -grandfather and the gentlemen twitted her, and laughed heartily at her -apt retorts, and even toasted her when she was gone. The ladies shook -their heads and nudged one another, and no doubt each of the mothers had -her notion of what she would do in Mrs. Manners's place. But when my -lady came down dressed for the ball in her pink brocade with the pearls -around her neck, fresh from the hands of Nester and those of her own -tremulous mammy, Mr. Carvel must needs go up to her and hold her at arm's -length in admiration, and then kiss her on both her cheeks. Whereat she -blushed right prettily. - -"Bless me!" says he; "and can this be Richard's little playmate grown? -Upon my word, Miss Dolly, you'll be the belle of the ball. Eh, Lloyd? -Bless me, bless me, you must not mind a kiss from an old man. The young -ones may have their turn after a while." He laughed as my grandfather -only could laugh, and turned to me, who had reddened to my forehead. -"And so, Richard, she has outstripped you, fair and square. You are only -an awkward lad, and she--why, i' faith, in two years she'll be beyond my -protection. Come, Miss Dolly," says he; "I'll show you the mistletoe, -that you may beware of it." - -And he led her off on his arm. "The old year and the new, gentlemen!" -he cried merrily, as he passed the door, with Dolly's mammy and Nester -simpering with pride on the landing. - -The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that -they were to stay the night. Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a -pillion behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress. Mr. -Bordley and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in coach -and four. With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured coat -and waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, and -pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes. How I envied him as he -descended the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with -the indifferent ease that was then the fashion. I fancied I saw his eyes -wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I -stood disconsolate before the fireplace. - -"Why, Richard, my lad," says he, "you are quite grown since I saw you. -And the little girl that was your playmate,--Miss Dolly, I mean,--has -outstripped me, egad. She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like -a rose that blooms in a night." - -I answered nothing at all. But I had given much to know whether my -stolid manner disconcerted him. Unconsciously I sought the bluff face -above the chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King -Charles's day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side. -Dr. Courtenay certainly caught the look. He opened his snuff-box, -took a pinch, turned on his heel, and sauntered off. - -"What did you say, Richard?" asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing, -for he had seen the incident. - -"I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing." - -"Faith, 'twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I think," -answered my friend. But he teased me a deal that night when Dolly danced -with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my honours. My young -lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a minuet as well as any -dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at the thought of the prize -slipping from my grasp. Now and then, in the midst of a figure, she -would shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say that her pinions were -strong now. But when it came to the country dances my lady comes up to -me ever so prettily and asks the favour. - -"Tis a monstrous state, indeed, when I have to beg you for a reel!" says -she. - -And so was I made happy. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -I FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE - -In the eighteenth century the march of public events was much more -eagerly followed than now by men and women of all stations, and even -children. Each citizen was ready, nay, forward, in taking an active part -in all political movements, and the children mimicked their elders. Old -William Farris read his news of a morning before he began the mending of -his watches, and by evening had so well digested them that he was primed -for discussion with Pryse, of the opposite persuasion, at the Rose and -Crown. Sol Mogg, the sexton of St. Anne's, had his beloved Gazette in -his pocket as he tolled the church bell of a Thursday, and would hold -forth on the rights and liberties of man with the carpenter who mended -the steeple. Mrs. Willard could talk of Grenville and Townshend as -knowingly as her husband, the rich factor, and Francie Willard made many -a speech to us younger Sons of Liberty on the steps of King William's -School. We younger sons, indeed, declared bitter war against the -mother-country long before our conservative old province ever dreamed of -secession. For Maryland was well pleased with his Lordship's government. - -I fear that I got at King William's School learning of a far different -sort than pleased my grandfather. In those days the school stood upon -the Stadt House hill near School Street, not having moved to its present -larger quarters. Mr. Isaac Daaken was then Master, and had under him -some eighty scholars. After all these years, Mr. Daaken stands before me -a prominent figure of the past in an ill-fitting suit of snuff colour. -How well I recall that schoolroom of a bright morning, the sun's rays -shot hither and thither, and split violet, green, and red by the bulging -glass panes of the windows. And by a strange irony it so chanced that -where the dominie sat--and he moved not the whole morning long save to -reach for his birches--the crimson ray would often rest on the end of his -long nose, and the word "rum" be passed tittering along the benches. For -some men are born to the mill, and others to the mitre, and still others -to the sceptre; but Mr. Daaken was born to the birch. His long, lanky -legs were made for striding after culprits, and his arms for caning them. -He taught, among other things, the classics, of course, the English -language grammatically, arithmetic in all its branches, book-keeping -in the Italian manner, and the elements of algebra, geometry, and -trigonometry with their applications to surveying and navigation. -He also wrote various sorts of hands, fearful and marvellous to the -uninitiated, with which he was wont to decorate my monthly reports to my -grandfather. I can shut my eyes and see now that wonderful hyperbola in -the C in Carvel, which, after travelling around the paper, ended in -intricate curves and a flourish which surely must have broken the quill. - -The last day of every month would I fetch that scrolled note to Mr. -Carvel, and he laid it beside his plate until dinner was over. And then, -as sure as the sun rose that morning, my flogging would come before it -set. This done with, and another promised next month provided Mr. Daaken -wrote no better of me, my grandfather and I renewed our customary footing -of love and companionship. - -But Mr. Daaken, unwittingly or designedly, taught other things than those -I have mentioned above. And though I never once heard a word of politics -fall from his lips, his school shortly became known to all good Tories as -a nursery of conspiracy and sedition. There are other ways of teaching -besides preaching, and of that which the dominie taught best he spoke not -a word. He was credited, you may well believe, with calumnies against -King George, and once my Uncle Grafton and Mr. Dulany were for clapping -him in jail, avowing that he taught treason to the young. I can account -for the tone of King William's School in no other way than to say that -patriotism was in the very atmosphere, and seemed to exude in some -mysterious way from Mr. Daaken's person. And most of us became -infected with it. - -The dominie lived outside the town, in a lonely little hamlet on the -borders of the Spa. At two of the clock every afternoon he would dive -through School Street to the Coffee House, where the hostler would have -his bony mare saddled and waiting. Mr. Daaken by no chance ever entered -the tavern. I recall one bright day in April when I played truant and -had the temerity to go afishing on Spa Creek with Will Fotheringay, the -bass being plentiful there. We had royal sport of it that morning, and -two o'clock came and went with never a thought, you may be sure. And -presently I get a pull which bends my English rod near to double, and -in my excitement plunge waist deep into the water, Will crying out -directions from the shore, when suddenly the head of Mr. Daaken's mare -is thrust through the bushes, followed by Mr. Daaken himself. Will stood -stock still from fright, and I was for dropping my rod and cutting, when -I was arrested by the dominie calling out: - -"Have a care, Master Carvel; have a care, sir. You will lose him. Play -him, sir; let him run a bit." - -And down he leaps from his horse and into the water after me, and -together we landed a three-pound bass, thereby drenching his snuff- -coloured suit. When the big fish lay shining in the basket, the dominie -smiled grimly at William and me as we stood sheepishly by, and without a -word he drew his clasp knife and cut a stout switch from the willow near, -and then and there he gave us such a thrashing as we remembered for many -a day after. And we both had another when we reached home. - -"Mr. Carvel," said Mr. Dulany to my grandfather, "I would strongly -counsel you to take Richard from that school. Pernicious doctrines, sir, -are in the air, and like diseases are early caught by the young. 'Twas -but yesterday I saw Richard at the head of a rabble of the sons of riff- -raff, in Green Street, and their treatment of Mr. Fairbrother hath set -the whole town by the ears." - -What Mr. Dulany had said was true. The lads of Mr. Fairbrother's school -being mostly of the unpopular party, we of King William's had organized -our cohorts and led them on to a signal victory. We fell upon the enemy -even as they were emerging from their stronghold, the schoolhouse, and -smote them hip and thigh, with the sheriff of Anne Arundel County a -laughing spectator. Some of the Tories (for such we were pleased to call -them) took refuge behind Mr. Fairbrother's skirts, who shook his cane -angrily enough, but without avail. Others of the Tory brood fought -stoutly, calling out: "God save the King!" and "Down with the traitors!" -On our side Francie Willard fell, and Archie Dennison raised a lump on my -head the size of a goose egg. But we fairly beat them, and afterwards -must needs attack the Tory dominie himself. He cried out lustily to the -sheriff and spectators, of whom there were many by this time, for help, -but got little but laughter for his effort. Young Lloyd and I, being -large lads for our age, fairly pinioned the screeching master, who cried -out that he was being murdered, and keeping his cane for a trophy, thrust -him bodily into his house of learning, turned the great key upon him, and -so left him. He made his escape by a window and sought my grandfather in -the Duke of Marlboro' Street as fast as ever his indignant legs would -carry him. - -Of his interview with Mr. Carvel I know nothing save that Scipio was -requested presently to show him the door, and conclude therefrom that his -language was but ill-chosen. Scipio's patrician blood was wont to rise -in the presence of those whom he deemed outside the pale of good society, -and I fear he ushered Mr. Fairbrother to the street with little of that -superior manner he used to the first families. As for Mr. Daaken, I feel -sure he was not ill-pleased at the discomfiture of his rival, though it -cost him five of his scholars. - -Our schoolboy battle, though lightly undertaken, was fraught with no -inconsiderable consequences for me. I was duly chided and soundly -whipped by my grandfather for the part I had played; but he was inclined -to pass the matter after that, and set it down to the desire for fighting -common to most boyish natures. And he would have gone no farther than -this had it not been that Mr. Green, of the Maryland Gazette, could not -refrain from printing the story in his paper. That gentleman, being a -stout Whig, took great delight in pointing out that a grandson of Mr. -Carvel was a ringleader in the affair. The story was indeed laughable -enough, and many a barrister's wig nodded over it at the Coffee House -that day. When I came home from school I found Scipio beside my -grandfather's empty seat in the dining-room, and I learned that Mr. -Carvel was in the garden with my Uncle Grafton and the Reverend Bennett -Allen, rector of St. Anne's. I well knew that something out of the -common was in the wind to disturb my grandfather's dinner. Into the -garden I went, and under the black walnut tree I beheld Mr. Carvel pacing -up and down in great unrest, his Gazette in his hand, while on the bench -sat my uncle and the rector of St. Anne's. So occupied was each in his -own thought that my coming was unperceived; and I paused in my steps, -seized suddenly by an instinctive dread, I know not of what. The fear of -Mr. Carvel's displeasure passed from my mind so that I cared not how -soundly he thrashed me, and my heart filled with a yearning, born of the -instant, for that simple and brave old gentleman. For the lad is nearer -to nature than the man, and the animal oft scents a danger the master -cannot see. I read plainly in Mr. Allen's handsome face, flushed red -with wine as it ever was, and in my Uncle Grafton's looks a snare to -which I knew my grandfather was blind. I never rightly understood how -it was that Mr. Carvel was deceived in Mr. Allen; perchance the secret -lay in his bold manner and in the appearance of dignity and piety he wore -as a cloak when on his guard. I caught my breath sharply and took my way -toward them, resolved to make as brave a front as I might. It was my -uncle, whose ear was ever open, that first heard my footstep and turned -upon me. - -"Here is Richard, now, father," he said. - -I gave him so square a look that he bent his head to the ground. My -grandfather stopped in his pacing and his eye rested upon me, in sorrow -rather than in anger, I thought. - -"Richard," he began, and paused. For the first time in my life I saw him -irresolute. He looked appealingly at the rector, who rose. Mr. Allen -was a man of good height and broad shoulders, with piercing black eyes, -reminding one more of the smallsword than aught else I can think of. And -he spoke solemnly, in a deep voice, as though from the pulpit. - -"I fear it is my duty, Richard, to say what Mr. Carvel cannot. It -grieves me to tell you, sir, that young as you are you have been guilty -of treason against the King, and of grave offence against his Lordship's -government. I cannot mitigate my words, sir. By your rashness, Richard, -and I pray it is such, you have brought grief to your grandfather in his -age, and ridicule and reproach upon a family whose loyalty has hitherto -been unstained." - -I scarce waited for him to finish. His pompous words stung me like the -lash of a whip, and I gave no heed to his cloth as I answered: - -"If I have grieved my grandfather, sir, I am heartily sorry, and will -answer to him for what I have done. And I would have you know, Mr. -Allen, that I am as able as any to care for the Carvel honour." - -I spoke with a vehemence, for the thought carried me beyond myself, -that this upstart parson his Lordship had but a year since sent among -us should question our family reputation. - -"Remember that Mr. Allen is of the Church, Richard," said my grandfather, -severely. - -"I fear he has little respect for Church or State, sir," Grafton put in. -"You are now reaping the fruits of your indulgence." - -I turned to my grandfather. - -"You are my protector, sir," I cried. "And if it please you to tell me -what I now stand accused of, I submit most dutifully to your -chastisement." - -"Very fair words, indeed, nephew Richard," said my uncle, "and I -draw from them that you have yet to hear of your beating an honest -schoolmaster without other provocation than that he was a loyal servant -to the King, and wantonly injuring the children of his school." He drew -from his pocket a copy of that Gazette Mr. Carvel held in his hand, and -added ironically: "Here, then, are news which will doubtless surprise -you, sir. And knowing you for a peaceful lad, never having entertained -such heresies as those with which it pleases Mr. Green to credit you, -I dare swear he has drawn on his imagination." - -I took the paper in amaze, not knowing why my grandfather, who had ever -been so jealous of others taking me to task, should permit the rector and -my uncle to chide me in his presence. The account was in the main true -enough, and made sad sport of Mr. Fairbrother. - -"Have I not been caned for this, sir?" said I to my grandfather. - -These words seemed to touch Mr. Carvel, and I saw a tear glisten in his -eye as he answered: - -"You have, Richard, and stoutly. But your uncle and Mr. Allen seem to -think that your offence warrants more than a caning, and to deem that you -have been actuated by bad principles rather than by boyish spirits." He -paused to steady his voice, and I realized then for the first time how -sacred he held allegiance to the King. "Tell me, my lad," said he, "tell -me, as you love God and the truth, whether they are right." - -For the moment I shrank from speaking, perceiving what a sad blow to -Mr. Carvel my words must be. And then I spoke up boldly, catching the -exulting sneer on my Uncle Grafton's face and the note of triumph -reflected in Mr. Allen's. - -"I have never deceived you, sir," I said, "and will not now hide from you -that I believe the colonies to have a just cause against his Majesty and -Parliament." The words came ready to my lips: "We are none the less -Englishmen because we claim the rights of Englishmen, and, saving your -presence, sir, are as loyal as those who do not. And if these principles -be bad," I added to my uncle, "then should we think with shame upon the -Magna Charta." - -My grandfather stood astonished at such a speech from me, whom he had -thought a lad yet without a formed knowledge of public affairs. But I -was, in fact, supersaturated with that of which I spoke, and could have -given my hearers many able Whig arguments to surprise them had the season -befitted. There was silence for a space after I had finished, and then -Mr. Carvel sank right heavily upon the bench. - -"A Carvel against the King!" was all he said. - -Had I been alone with him I should have cast myself at his feet, for it -hurt me sorely to see him so. As it was, I held my head high. - -"The Carvels ever did what they believed right, sir," I answered. "You -would not have me to go against my conscience?" - -To this he replied nothing. - -"The evil has been done, as I feared, father," said Grafton, presently; -"we must now seek for the remedy." - -"Let me question the lad," Mr. Allen softly interposed. "Tell me, -Richard, who has influenced you to this way of thinking?" - -I saw his ruse, and was not to be duped by it. - -"Men who have not feared to act bravely against oppression, sir," I said. - -"Thank God," exclaimed my uncle, with fervour, "that I have been more -careful of Philip's associations, and that he has not caught in the -streets and taverns this noxious creed!" - -"There is no danger from Philip; he remembers his family name," said the -rector. - -"No," quoth Mr. Carvel, bitterly, "there is no danger from Philip. Like -his father, he will ever believe that which best serves him." - -Grafton, needless to say, did not pursue such an argument, but rising, -remarked that this deplorable affair had kept him long past his dinner -hour, and that his services were as ever at his father's disposal. He -refused to stay, though my grandfather pressed him of course, and with a -low bow of filial respect and duty and a single glance at the rector, my -uncle was gone. And then we walked slowly to the house and into the -dining room, Mr. Carvel leading the procession, and I an unwilling rear, -knowing that my fate would be decided between them. I thought Mr. -Allen's grace would never end, and the meal likewise; I ate but little, -while the two gentlemen discussed parish matters. And when at last -Scipio had retired, and the rector of St. Anne's sat sipping the old -Madeira, his countenance all gravity, but with a relish he could not -hide, my grandfather spoke up. And though he addressed himself to the -guest, I knew full well what he said was meant for me. - -"As you see, sir," said he, "I am sore perplexed and troubled. We -Carvels, Mr. Allen, have ever been stanch to Church and King. My great- -grandsire fought at Naseby and Marston Moor for Charles, and suffered -exile in his name. 'Twas love for King James that sent my father hither, -though he swore allegiance to Anne and the First George. I can say with -pride that he was no indifferent servant to either, refusing honours from -the Pretender in '15, when he chanced to be at home. An oath is an oath, -sir, and we have yet to be false to ours. And the King, say I, should, -next to God, be loved and loyally served by his subjects. And so I have -served this George, and his grandfather before him, according to the -talents which were given me." - -"And ably, sir, permit me to say," echoed the rector, heartily. Too -heartily, methought. And he carefully filled his pipe with choice leaf -out of Mr. Carvel's inlaid box. - -"Be that as it may, I have done my best, as we must all do. Pardon me, -sir, for speaking of myself. But I have brought up this lad from a -child, Mr. Allen," said Mr. Carvel, his words coming slowly, as if each -gave him pain, "and have striven to be an example to him in all things. -He has few of those faults which I most fear; God be thanked that he -loves the truth, for there is yet a chance of his correction. A chance, -said I?" he cried, his speech coming more rapid, "nay, he shall be -cured! I little thought, fool that I was, that he would get this pox. -His father fought and died for the King; and should trouble come, which -God forbid, to know that Richard stood against his Majesty would kill -me." - -"And well it might, Mr. Carvel," said the divine. He was for the -moment sobered, as weak men must be in the presence of those of strong -convictions. My grandfather had half risen in his chair, and the lines -of his smooth-shaven face deepened visibly with the pain of the feelings -to which he gave utterance. As for me, I was well-nigh swept away by a -bigness within me, and torn between love and duty, between pity and the -reason left me, and sadly tried to know whether my dear parent's life and -happiness should be weighed against what I felt to be right. I strove to -speak, but could say nothing. - -"He must be removed from the influences," the rector ventured, after a -halt. - -"That he must indeed," said my grandfather. "Why did I not send him to -Eton last fall? But it is hard, Mr. Allen, to part with the child of our -old age. I would take passage and go myself with him to-morrow were it -not for my duties in the Council." - -"Eton! I would have sooner, I believe, wrought by the side of any -rascally redemptioner in the iron mines of the Patapsco than have gone to -Eton. - -"But for the present, sir, I would counsel you to put the lad's studies -in the charge of some able and learned man, that his mind may be turned -from the disease which has fed upon it. Some one whose loyalty is beyond -question." - -"And who so fit as yourself, Mr. Allen? "returned my grandfather, relief -plain in his voice. "You have his Lordship's friendship and confidence, -and never has rector of St. Anne's or of any other parish brought letters -to his Excellency to compare with yours. And so I crave your help in -this time of need." - -Mr. Allen showed becoming hesitation. - -"I fear you do me greater honour than I deserve, Mr. Carvel," he -answered, a strain of the pomp coming back, "though my gracious patron -is disposed to think well of me, and I shall strive to hold his good -opinion. But I have duties of parish and glebe to attend, and Master -Philip Carvel likewise in my charge." - -I held my breath for my grandfather's reply. The rector, however, had -read him, and well knew that a show of reluctance would but inflame him -the more. - -"How now, sir?" he exclaimed. "Surely, as you love the King, you will -not refuse me in this strait." - -Mr. Allen rose and grasped him by the hand. - -"Nay, sir," said he, "and you put it thus, I cannot refuse you." - -The thought of it was too much. I ran to my grandfather crying: "Not Mr. -Allen, sir, not Mr. Allen. Any one else you please,--Mr. Fairbrother -even." - -The rector drew back haughtily. "It is clear, Mr. Carvel," he said, -"that Richard has other preferences." - -"And be damned to them!" shouted my grandfather. "Am I to be ruled by -this headstrong boy? He has beat Mr. Fairbrother, and shall have no -skimmed-milk supervision if I can help it." - -And so it was settled that I should be tutored by the rector of St. -Anne's, and I took my seat beside my cousin Philip in his study the very -next day. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE - -To add to my troubles my grandfather was shortly taken very ill with the -first severe sickness he had ever in his life endured. Dr. Leiden came -and went sometimes thrice daily, and for a week he bore a look so grave -as to frighten me. Dr. Evarts arrived by horse from Philadelphia, and -the two physicians held long conversations in the morning room, while I -listened at the door and comprehended not a word of their talk save when -they spoke of bleeding. And after a very few consultations, as is often -the way in their profession, they disagreed and quarrelled, and Dr. -Evarts packed himself back to Philadelphia in high dudgeon. Then Mr. -Carvel began to mend. - -There were many who came regularly to inquire of him, and each afternoon -I would see the broad shoulders and genial face of Governor Sharpe in the -gateway, completing his walk by way of Marlboro' Street. I loved and -admired him, for he had been a soldier himself before he came out to us, -and had known and esteemed my father. His Excellency should surely have -been knighted for his services in the French war. Once he spied me at -the window and shook his cane pleasantly, and in he walks to the room -where I sat reading of the victories of Blenheim and Malplaquet, for -chronicles of this sort I delighted in. - -"Aha, Richard," says he, taking up the book, "'tis plain whither your -tastes lead you. Marlboro was a great general, and as sorry a scoundrel -as ever led troops to battle. Truly," says he, musing, "the Lord often -makes queer choice in his instruments for good." And he lowered himself -into the easy chair and crossed his legs, regarding me very comically. -"What's this I hear of your joining the burghers and barristers, and -trouncing poor Mr. Fairbrother and his flock, and crying 'Liberty -forever!' in the very ears of the law?" he asks. "His Majesty will have -need of such lads as you, I make no doubt, and should such proceedings -come to his ears I would not give a pipe for your chances." - -I could not but laugh, confused as I was, at his Excellency's rally. -And this I may say, that had it pleased Providence to give me dealing -with such men of the King's side as he, perchance my fortunes had been -altered. - -"And in any good cause, sir," I replied, "I would willingly give my life -to his Majesty." - -"So," said his Excellency, raising his eyebrows, "I see clearly you are -of the rascals. But a lad must have his fancies, and when your age I was -hot for the exiled Prince. I acquired more sense as I grew older. And -better an active mind, say I, than a sluggard partisan." - -At this stage of our talk came in my Uncle Grafton, and bowing low to the -Governor made apology that some of the elders of the family had not been -there to entertain him. He told his Excellency that he had never left -the house save for necessary business, which was true for once, my uncle -having taken up his abode with us during that week. But now, thanking -Heaven and Dr. Leiden and his own poor effort, he could report his dear -father to be out of danger. - -Governor Sharpe answered shortly that he had been happy to hear the good -news from Scipio. "Faith," says he, "I was well enough entertained, for -I have a liking for this lad, and to speak truth I saw him here as I came -up the walk." - -My uncle smiled deprecatingly, and hid any vexation he might have had -from this remark. - -"I fear that Richard lacks wisdom as yet, your Excellency," said he, "and -has many of his father's headstrong qualities." - -"Which you most providentially escaped," his Excellency put in. - -Grafton bit his lip. "Necessity makes us all careful, sir," said he. - -"Necessity does more than that, Mr. Carvel," returned the Governor, who -was something of a wit; "necessity often makes us fools, if we be not -careful. But give me ever a wanton fool rather than him of necessity's -handiwork. And as for the lad," says he, "let him not trouble you. Such -as he, if twisted a little in the growth, come out straight enough in the -end." - -I think the Governor little knew what wormwood was this to my uncle. - -"'Tis heartily to be hoped, sir," he said, "for his folly has brought -trouble enough behind it to those who have his education and his welfare -in hand, and I make no doubt is at the bottom of my father's illness." - -At this injustice I could not but cry out, for all the town knew, and -my grandfather himself best of all, that the trouble from which he now -suffered sprang from his gout. And yet my heart was smitten at the -thought that I might have hastened or aggravated the attack. The -Governor rose. He seized his stick aggressively and looked sharply at -Grafton. - -"Nonsense," he exclaimed; "my friend Mr. Carvel is far too wise to be -upset by a boyish prank which deserves no notice save a caning. And -that, my lad," he added lightly, "I dare swear you got with interest." -And he called for a glass of the old Madeira when Scipio came with the -tray, and departed with a polite inquiry after my Aunt Caroline's health, -and a prophecy that Mr. Carvel would soon be taking the air again. - -There had been high doings indeed in Marlboro' Street that miserable -week. My grandfather took to his bed of a Saturday afternoon, and bade -me go down to Mr. Aikman's, the bookseller, and fetch him the latest -books and plays. That night I became so alarmed that I sent Diomedes for -Dr. Leiden, who remained the night through. Sunday was well gone before -the news reached York Street, when my Aunt Caroline came hurrying over in -her chair, and my uncle on foot. They brushed past Scipio at the door, -and were pushing up the long flight when they were stopped on the landing -by Dr. Leiden. - -"How is my father, sir?" Grafton cried, "and why was I not informed at -once of his illness? I must see him." - -"Your vater can see no one, Mr. Carvel," said the doctor, quietly. - -"What," says my uncle, "you dare to refuse me?" - -"Not so lout, I bray you," says the doctor; "I tare any ting vere life is -concerned." - -"But I will see him," says Grafton, in a sort of helpless rage, for the -doctor's manner baffled him. "I will see him before he dies, and no man -alive shall say me nay." - -Then my Aunt Caroline gathered up her skirt, and made shift to pass the -doctor. - -"I have come to nurse him," said she, imperiously, and, turning to where -I stood near, she added: "Bid a servant fetch from York Street what I -shall have need of." - -The doctor smiled, but stood firm. He cared little for aught in heaven -or earth, did Dr. Leiden, and nothing whatever for Mr. and Mrs. Grafton -Carvel. - -"I peg you, matam, do not disturp yourself," said he. "Mr. Carvel is -aply attended by an excellent voman, Mrs. Villis, and be has no neet of -you." - -"What," cried my aunt; "this is too much, sir, that I am thrust out of my -father-in-law's house, and my place taken by a menial. That woman able!" -she fumed, dropping suddenly her cloak of dignity; "Mr. Carvel's charity -is all that keeps her here." - -Then my uncle drew himself up. "Dr. Leiden," says he, "kindly oblige me -by leaving my father's house, and consider your services here at an end. -And Richard," he goes on to me, "send my compliments to Dr. Drake, and -request him to come at once." - -I was stepping forward to say that I would do nothing of the kind, when -the doctor stopped me by a signal, as much as to say that the quarrel was -wide enough without me. He stood with his back against the great arched -window flooded with the yellow light of the setting sun, a little black -figure in high relief, with a face of parchment. And he took a pinch of -snuff before he spoke. - -"I am here py Mr. Carvel's orters, sir," said he, "and py tose alone vill -I leaf." - -And this is how the Chippendale piece was broke, which you, my children, -and especially Bess, admire so extravagantly. It stood that day behind -the doctor, and my uncle, making a violent move to get by, struck it, and -so it fell with a great crash lengthwise on the landing; and the -wonderful vases Mr. Carroll had given my grandfather rolled down the -stairs and lay crushed at the bottom. Withal he had spoken so quietly, -Dr. Leiden possessed a temper drawn from his Teutonic ancestors. With -his little face all puckered, he swore so roundly at my uncle in some -lingo he had got from his father,--High German or Low German,--I know not -what, that Grafton and his wife were glad enough to pick their way -amongst the broken bits of glass and china, to the hall again. Dr. -Leiden shook his fist at their retreating persons, saying that the -Sabbath was no day to do murder. - -I followed them with the pretence of picking up what was left of the -ornaments. What between anger against the doctor and Mrs. Willis, and -fright and chagrin at the fall of the Chippendale piece, my aunt was in -such a state of nervous flurry that she bade the ashy Scipio call her -chairmen, and vowed, in a trembling voice, she would never again enter a -house where that low-bred German was to be found. But my Uncle Grafton -was of a different nature. He deemed defeat but a postponement of the -object he wished to gain, and settled himself in the library with a copy -of "Miller on the Distinction of Ranks in Society." He appeared at -supper suave as ever, gravely concerned as to his father's health, which -formed the chief topic between us. He gave me to understand that he -would take the green room until the old gentleman was past danger. Not a -word, mind you, of Dr. Leiden, nor did my uncle express a wish to go into -the sick-room, from which even I was forbid. Nay, the next morning he -met the doctor in the hall and conversed with him at some length over the -case as though nothing had occurred between them. - -While my Uncle Grafton was in the house I had opportunity of marking the -intimacy which existed between him and the rector of St. Anne's. The -latter swung each evening the muffled knocker, and was ushered on tiptoe -across the polished floor to the library where my uncle sat in state. It -was often after supper before the rector left, and coming in upon them -once I found wine between them and empty decanters on the board, and they -fell silent as I passed the doorway. - -Our dear friend Captain Clapsaddle was away when my grandfather fell -sick, having been North for three months or more on some business known -to few. 'Twas generally supposed he went to Massachusetts to confer with -the patriots of that colony. Hearing the news as he rode into town, he -came booted and spurred to Marlboro' Street before going to his lodgings. -I ran out to meet him, and he threw his arms about me on the street so -that those who were passing smiled, for all knew the captain. And -Harvey, who always came to take the captain's horse, swore that he was -glad to see a friend of the family once again. I told the captain very -freely of my doings, and showed him the clipping from the Gazette, which -made him laugh heartily. But a shade came upon his face when I rehearsed -the scene we had with my uncle and Mr. Allen in the garden. - -"What," says he, "Mr. Carvel hath sent you to Mr. Allen on your uncle's -advice?" - -"No," I answered, "to do my uncle justice, he said not a word to Mr. -Carvel about it." - -The captain turned the subject. He asked me much concerning the rector -and what he taught me, and appeared but ill-pleased at that I had to tell -him. But he left me without so much as a word of comment or counsel. -For it was a principle with Captain Clapsaddle not to influence in any -way the minds of the young, and he would have deemed it unfair to Mr. -Carvel had he attempted to win my sympathies to his. Captain Daniel was -the first the old gentleman asked to see when visitors were permitted -him, and you may be sure the faithful soldier was below stairs waiting -for the summons. - -I was some three weeks with my new tutor, the rector, before my -grandfather's illness, and went back again as soon as he began to mend. -I was not altogether unhappy, owing to a certain grim pleasure I had in -debating with him, which I shall presently relate. There was much to -annoy and anger me, too. My cousin Philip was forever carping and -criticising my Greek and Latin, and it was impossible not to feel his -sneer at my back when I construed. He had pat replies ready to correct -me when called upon, and 'twas only out of consideration for Mr. Carvel -that I kept my hands from him when we were dismissed. - -I think the rector disliked Philip in his way as much as did I in mine. -The Reverend Bennett Allen, indeed, might have been a very good fellow -had Providence placed him in a different setting; he was one of those -whom his Excellency dubbed "fools from necessity." He should have been -born with a fortune, though I can think of none he would not have run -through in a year or so. But nature had given him aristocratic tastes, -with no other means toward their gratification than good looks, -convincing ways, and a certain bold, half-defiant manner, which went far -with his Lordship and those like him, who thought Mr. Allen excellent -good company. With the rector, as with too many others, holy orders were -but a means to an end. It was a sealed story what he had been before he -came to Governor Sharpe with Baltimore's directions to give him the best -in the colony. But our rakes and wits, and even our solid men, like my -grandfather, received him with open arms. He had ever a tale on his -tongue's end tempered to the ear of his listener. - -Who had most influenced my way of thinking, Mr. Allen had well demanded. -The gentleman was none other than Mr. Henry Swain, Patty's father. Of -her I shall speak later. He was a rising barrister and man of note among -our patriots, and member of the Lower House; a diffident man in public, -with dark, soulful eyes, and a wide, white brow, who had declined a -nomination to the Congress of '65. At his fireside, unknown to my -grandfather and to Mr. Allen, I had learned the true principles of -government. Before the House Mr. Swain spoke only under extraordinary -emotion, and then he gained every ear. He had been my friend since -childhood, but I never knew the meaning and the fire of oratory until -curiosity brought me to the gallery of the Assembly chamber in the Stadt -House, where the barrister was on his feet at the time. I well remember -the tingle in my chest as I looked and listened. And I went again and -again, until the House sat behind closed doors. - -And so, when Mr. Allen brought forth for my benefit those arguments of -the King's party which were deemed their strength, I would confront him -with Mr. Swain's logic. He had in me a tough subject for conversion. -I was put to very small pains to rout my instructor out of all his -positions, because indolence, and lack of interest in the question, and -contempt for the Americans, had made him neglect the study of it. And -Philip, who entered at first glibly enough at the rector's side, was -soon drawn into depths far beyond him. Many a time was Mr. Allen fain -to laugh at his blunders. I doubt not my cousin had the facts straight -enough when he rose from the breakfast table at home; but by the time he -reached the rectory they were shaken up like so many parts of a puzzle in -a bag, and past all straightening. - -The rector was especially bitter toward the good people of Boston Town, -whom he dubbed Puritan fanatics. To him Mr. Otis was but a meddling -fool, and Mr. Adams a traitor whose head only remained on his shoulders -by grace of the extreme clemency of his Majesty, which Mr. Allen was at -a loss to understand. When beaten in argument, he would laugh out some -sneer that would set my blood simmering. One morning he came in late for -the lesson, smelling strongly of wine, and bade us bring our books out -under the fruit trees in the garden. He threw back his gown and tilted -his cap, and lighting his pipe began to speak of that act of Townshend's, -passed but the year before, which afterwards proved the King's folly and -England's ruin. - -"Principle!" exclaimed my fine clergyman at length, blowing a great whiff -among the white blossoms. "Oons! your Americans worship his Majesty -stamped upon a golden coin. And though he saved their tills from plunder -from the French, the miserly rogues are loth to pay for the service." - -I rose, and taking a guinea-piece from my pocket, held it up before him. - -"They care this much for gold, sir, and less for his Majesty, who cares -nothing for them," I said. And walking to the well near by, I dropped -the piece carelessly into the clear water. He was beside me before it -left my hand, and Philip also, in time to see the yellow coin edging this -way and that toward the bottom. The rector turned to me with a smile of -cynical amusement playing over his features. - -"Such a spirit has brought more than one brave fellow to Tyburn, Master -Carvel," he said. And then he added reflectively, "But if there were -more like you, we might well have cause for alarm." - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -Genius honored but never encouraged -God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see -He was our macaroni of Annapolis -Shaped his politics according to the company he was in -Thy politics are not over politic - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - -Volume 2. - - -VIII. Over the Wall -IX. Under False Colours -X. The Red in the Carvel Blood -XI. A Festival and a Parting -XII. News from a Far Country - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -OVER THE WALL - -Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted -power at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to -town Dr. Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies, -a request which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had -given his consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for -the days when she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor -contrived to see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was -forever at her house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen -of fashion like the doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but -in reality to see Miss Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be -lingering in the drawing-room in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in -the garden as Dr. Courtenay passed, and I got but scant attention indeed. -I was but an awkward lad, and an old playmate, with no novelty about me. - -"Why, Richard," she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or -sat at dinner in Prince George Street, "I know every twist and turn of -your nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir, -you are very tiresome." - -"You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I -walked the Oriole's bowsprit," I replied ruefully. - -"Why don't you make me jealous?" says she, stamping her foot. "A score -of pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,--Jennie and Bess -Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They -are actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said I, -'if you will but rid me of him for a day, you shall have my lasting -gratitude.'" - -And she turned to the spinet and began a lively air. But the taunt -struck deeper than she had any notion of. That spring arrived out from -London on the Belle of the Wye a box of fine clothes my grandfather had -commanded for me from his own tailor; and a word from a maid of fifteen -did more to make me wear them than any amount of coaxing from Mr. Allen -and my Uncle Grafton. My uncle seemed in particular anxious that I -should make a good appearance, and reminded me that I should dress as -became the heir of the Carvel house. I took counsel with Patty Swain, -and then went to see Betty Tayloe, and the Fotheringay girls, and the -Dulany girls, near the Governor's. And (fie upon me!) I was not ill- -pleased with the brave appearance I made. I would show my mistress how -little I cared. But the worst of it was, the baggage seemed to trouble -less than I, and had the effrontery to tell me how happy she was I had -come out of my shell, and broken loose from her apron-strings. - -"Indeed, they would soon begin to think I meant to marry you, Richard," -says she at supper one Sunday before a tableful, and laughed with the -rest. - -"They do not credit you with such good sense, my dear," says her mother, -smiling kindly at me. - -And Dolly bit her lip, and did not join in that part of the merriment. - -I fled to Patty Swain for counsel, nor was it the first time in my life -I had done so. Some good women seem to have been put into this selfish -world to comfort and advise. After Prince George Street with its gilt -and marbles and stately hedged gardens, the low-beamed, vine-covered -house in the Duke of Gloucester Street was a home and a rest. In my -eyes there was not its equal in Annapolis for beauty within and without. -Mr. Swain had bought the dwelling from an aged man with a history, dead -some nine years back. Its furniture, for the most part, was of the -Restoration, of simple and massive oak blackened by age, which I ever -fancied better than the Frenchy baubles of tables and chairs with spindle -legs, and cabinets of glass and gold lacquer which were then making their -way into the fine mansions of our town. The house was full of twists and -turns, and steps up and down, and nooks and passages and queer hiding- -places which we children knew, and in parts queer leaded windows of -bulging glass set high in the wall, and older than the reign of Hanover. -Here was the shrine of cleanliness, whose high-priestess was Patty -herself. Her floors were like satin-wood, and her brasses lights in -themselves. She had come honestly enough by her gifts, her father having -married the daughter of an able townsman of Salem, in the Massachusetts -colony, when he had gone north after his first great success in court. -Now the poor lady sat in a padded armchair from morning to night, beside -the hearth in winter, and under the trees in summer, by reason of a fall -she had had. There she knitted all the day long. Her placid face and -quiet way come before me as I write. - -My friendship with Patty had begun early. One autumn day when I was a -little lad of eight or nine, my grandfather and I were driving back from -Whitehall in the big coach, when we spied a little maid of six by the -Severn's bank, with her apron full of chestnuts. She was trudging -bravely through the dead leaves toward the town. Mr. Carvel pulled the -cord to stop, and asked her name. "Patty Swain, and it please your -honour," the child answered, without fear. "So you are the young -barrister's daughter?" says he, smiling at something I did not -understand. She nodded. "And how is it you are so far from home, and -alone, my little one?" asked Mr. Carvel again. For some time he could -get nothing out of her; but at length she explained, with much coaxing, -that her big brother Tom had deserted her. My grandfather wished that -Tom were his brother, that he might be punished as he deserved. He -commanded young Harvey to lift the child into the coach, chestnuts and -all, and there she sat primly between us. She was not as pretty as -Dorothy, so I thought, but her clear gray eyes and simple ways impressed -me by their very honesty, as they did Mr. Carvel. What must he do but -drive her home to Green Street, where Mr. Swain then lived in a little -cottage. Mr. Carvel himself lifted her out and kissed her, and -handed her to her mother at the gate, who was vastly overcome by the -circumstance. The good lady had not then received that fall which made -her a cripple for life. "And will you not have my chestnuts, sir, for -your kindness?" says little Patty. Whereat my grandfather laughed and -kissed her again, for he loved children, and wished to know if she would -not be his daughter, and come to live in Marlboro' Street; and told the -story of Tom, for fear she would not. He was silent as we drove away, -and I knew he was thinking of my own mother at that age. - -Not long after this Mr. Swain bought the house in the Duke of Gloucester -Street. This, as you know, is back to back with Marlboro. To reach -Patty's garden I had but to climb the brick wall at the rear of our -grounds, and to make my way along the narrow green lane left there for -perhaps a hundred paces of a lad, to come to the gate in the wooden -paling. In return I used to hoist Patty over the wall, and we would play -at children's games under the fruit trees that skirted it. Some instinct -kept her away from the house. I often caught her gazing wistfully at its -wings and gables. She was not born to a mansion, so she said. - -"But your father is now rich," I objected. I had heard Captain Daniel -say so. "He may have a mansion of his own and he chooses. He can better -afford it than many who are in debt for the fine show they make." I was -but repeating gossip. - -"I should like to see the grand company come in, when your grandfather -has them to dine," said the girl. "Sometimes we have grand gentlemen -come to see father in their coaches, but they talk of nothing but -politics. We never have any fine ladies like--like your Aunt Caroline." - -I startled her by laughing derisively. - -"And I pray you never may, Patty," was all I said. - -I never told Dolly of my intimacy with the barrister's little girl over -the wall. This was not because I was ashamed of the friendship, but -arose from a fear-well-founded enough--that she would make sport of it. -At twelve Dolly had notions concerning the walks of life that most other -children never dream of. They were derived, of course, from Mr. -Marmaduke. But the day of reckoning arrived. Patty and I were romping -beside the back wall when suddenly a stiff little figure in a starched -frock appeared through the trees in the direction of the house, followed -by Master Will Fotheringay in his visiting clothes. I laugh now when I -think of that formal meeting between the two little ladies. There was no -time to hoist Miss Swain over the wall, or to drive Miss Manners back -upon the house. Patty stood blushing as though caught in a guilty act, -while she of the Generations came proudly on, Will sniggering behind her. - -"Who is this, Richard?" asks Miss Manners, pointing a small forefinger. - -"Patty Swain, if you must know!" I cried, and added boylike: "And she is -just as good as you or me, and better." I was quite red in the face, and -angry because of it. "This is Dorothy Manners, Patty, and Will -Fotheringay." - -The moment was a pregnant one. But I was resolved to carry the matter -out with a bold front. "Will you join us at catch and swing?" I asked. - -Will promptly declared that he would join, for Patty was good to look -upon. Dolly glanced at her dress, tossed her head, and marched back -alone. - -"Oh, Richard!" cried Patty; "I shall never forgive myself! I have made -you quarrel with--" - -"His sweetheart," said Will, wickedly. - -"I don't care," said I. Which was not so. - -Patty felt no resentment for my miss's haughty conduct, but only a -tearful penitence for having been the cause of a strife between us. -Will's arguments and mine availed nothing. I must lift her over the wall -again, and she went home. When we reached the garden we found Dolly -seated beside her mother on my grandfather's bench, from which stronghold -our combined tactics were powerless to drag her. - -When Dolly was gone, I asked my grandfather in great indignation why -Patty did not play with the children I knew, with Dorothy and the -Fotheringays. He shook his head dubiously. "When you are older, -Richard, you will understand that our social ranks are cropped close. -Mr. Swain is an honest and an able man, though he believes in things I do -not. I hear he is becoming wealthy. And I have no doubt," the shrewd -old gentleman added, "that when Patty grows up she will be going to the -assemblies, though it was not so in my time." So liberal was he that he -used to laugh at my lifting her across the wall, and in his leisure -delight to listen to my accounts of her childish housekeeping. Her life -was indeed a contrast to Dorothy's. She had all the solid qualities that -my lady lacked in early years. And yet I never wavered in my liking to -the more brilliant and wayward of the two. The week before my next -birthday, when Mr. Carvel drew me to him and asked me what I wished for -a present that year, as was his custom, I said promptly: - -"I should like to have Patty Swain at my party, sir." - -"So you shall, my lad," he cried, taking his snuff and eying me with -pleasure. "I am glad to see, Richard, that you have none of Mr. -Marmaduke's nonsense about you. She is a good girl, i' faith, and more -of a lady now than many who call themselves such. And you shall have -your present to boot. Hark'ee, Daniel," said he to the captain; "if the -child comes to my house, the poll-parrots and follow-me-ups will be -wanting her, too." - -But the getting her to go was a matter of five days. For Patty was -sensitive, like her father, and dreaded a slight. Not so with Master -Tom, who must, needs be invited, too. He arrived half an hour ahead -of time, arrayed like Solomon, and without his sister! I had to go for -Patty, indeed, after the party had begun, and to get the key to the -wicket in the wall to take her in that way, so shy was she. My dear -grandfather showed her particular attention. And Miss Dolly herself, -being in the humour, taught her a minuet. - -After that she came to all my birthdays, and lost some of her shyness. -And was invited to other great houses, even as Mr. Carvel had predicted. -But her chief pleasure seemed ever her duty. Whether or no such -characters make them one and the same, who can tell? She became the -light of her father's house, and used even to copy out his briefs, at -which task I often found her of an evening. - -As for Tom, that graceless scamp, I never could stomach him. I wondered -then, as I have since, how he was the brother of such a sister. He could -scarce bide his time until Mr. Swain should have a coach and a seat in -the country with the gentry. "A barrister," quoth he, "is as good as any -one else. And if my father came out a redemptioner, and worked his way, -so had old Mr. Dulany. Our family at home was the equal of his." All of -which was true, and more. He would deride Patty for sewing and baking, -vowing that they had servants enough now to do the work twice over. She -bore with him with a patience to be marvelled at; and I could never get -it through my head why Mr. Swain indulged him, though he was the elder, -and his mother's favourite. Tom began to dress early. His open -admiration was Dr. Courtenay, his confessed hope to wear five-pound -ruffles and gold sword knots. He clung to Will Fotheringay with a -tenacity that became proverbial among us boys, and his boasts at King -William's School were his father's growing wealth and intimacy with the -great men of the province. - -As I grew older, I took the cue of political knowledge, as I have said, -from Mr. Swain rather than Captain Daniel, who would tell me nothing. I -fell into the habit of taking supper in Gloucester Street. The meal was -early there. And when the dishes were cleared away, and the barrister's -pipe lit, and Patty and her mother had got their sewing, he would talk by -the hour on the legality of our resistance to the King, and discuss the -march of affairs in England and the other colonies. He found me a ready -listener, and took pains to teach me clearly the right and wrong of the -situation. 'Twas his religion, even as loyalty to the King was my -grandfather's, and he did not think it wrong to spread it. He likewise -instilled into me in that way more of history than Mr. Allen had ever -taught me, using it to throw light upon this point or that. But I never -knew his true power and eloquence until I followed him to the Stadt -House. - -Patty was grown a girl of fifteen then, glowing with health, and had -ample good looks of her own. 'Tis odd enough that I did not fall in -love with her when Dolly began to use me so outrageously. But a lad of -eighteen is scarce a rational creature. I went and sat before my oracle -upon the vine-covered porch under the eaves, and poured out my complaint. -She laid down her needlework and laughed. - -"You silly boy," said she, "can't you see that she herself has prescribed -for you? She was right when she told you to show attention to Jenny. -And if you dangle about Miss Dolly now, you are in danger of losing her. -She knows it better than you." - -I had Jenny to ride the very next day. Result: my lady smiled on me more -sweetly than ever when I went to Prince George Street, and vowed Jenny -had never looked prettier than when she went past the house. This left -my victory in such considerable doubt that I climbed the back wall -forthwith in my new top-boots. - -"So you looked for her to be angry?" said Patty. - -"Most certainly," said I. - -"Unreasoning vanity!" she cried, for she knew how to speak plain. -"By your confession to me you have done this to please her, for she -warned you at the beginning it would please her. And now you complain -of it. I believe I know your Dorothy better than you." - -And so I got but little comfort out of Patty that time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -UNDER FALSE COLOURS - -And now I come to a circumstance in my life I would rather pass over -quickly. Had I steered the straight course of my impulse I need never -have deceived that dear gentleman whom I loved and honoured above any in -this world, and with whom I had always lived and dealt openly. After my -grandfather was pronounced to be mending, I went back to Mr. Allen until -such time as we should be able to go to the country. Philip no longer -shared my studies, his hours having been changed from morning to -afternoon. I thought nothing of this, being content with the rector's -explanation that my uncle had a task for Philip in the morning, now that -Mr. Carvel was better. And I was well content to be rid of Philip's -company. But as the days passed I began to mark an absence still -stranger. I had my Horace and my Ovid still: but the two hours from -eleven to one, which he was wont to give up to history and what he was -pleased to call instruction in loyalty, were filled with other matter. -Not a word now of politics from Mr. Allen. Not even a comment from him -concerning the spirited doings of our Assembly, with which the town was -ringing. That body had met but a while before, primed to act on the -circular drawn up by Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. The Governor's message -had not been so prompt as to forestall them, and I am occupied scarce the -time in the writing of this that it took our brave members to adopt the -petition to his Majesty and to pass resolutions of support to our sister -colony of the North. This being done, and a most tart reply penned to -his Excellency, they ended that sitting and passed in procession to the -Governor's mansion to deliver it, Mr. Speaker Lloyd at their head, and a -vast concourse of cheering people at their heels. Shutters were barred -on the Tory houses we passed. And though Mr. Allen spied me in the -crowd, he never mentioned the circumstance. More than once I essayed to -draw from him an opinion of Mr. Adams's petition, which was deemed a work -of great moderation and merit, and got nothing but evasion from my tutor. -That he had become suddenly an American in principle I could not believe. -At length I made bold to ask him why our discussions were now omitted. -He looked up from the new play he was reading on the study lounge, with a -glance of dark meaning I could not fathom. - -"You are learning more than I can teach you in Gloucester Street, and at -the Stadt House," he said. - -In truth I was at a loss to understand his attitude until the day in June -my grandfather and I went to Carvel Hall. - -The old gentleman was weak still, so feeble that he had to be carried to -his barge in a chair, a vehicle he had ever held in scorn. But he was -cheerful, and his spirit remained the same as of old: but for that spirit -I believe he had never again risen from his bed in Marlboro' Street. My -uncle and the rector were among those who walked by his side to the dock, -and would have gone to the Hall with him had he permitted them. He was -kind enough to say that my arm was sufficient to lean on. - -What peace there was sitting once again under the rustling trees on the -lawn with the green river and the blue bay spread out before us, and -Scipio standing by with my grandfather's punch. Mr. Carvel would have me -rehearse again all that had passed in town and colony since his illness, -which I did with as much moderation as I was able. And as we talked he -reached out and took my hand, for I sat near him, and said: - -"Richard, I have heard tidings of you that gladden my heart, and they -have done more than Dr. Leiden's physic for this old frame of mine. I -well knew a Carvel could never go a wrong course, lad, and you least of -any." - -"Tidings, sir?" I said. - -"Ay, tidings," answered Mr. Carvel. Such a note of relief and gladness -there was in the words as I had not heard for months from him, and a -vague fear came upon me. - -"Scipio," he said merrily, "a punch for Mr. Richard." And when the glass -was brought my grandfather added: "May it be ever thus!" - -I drained the toast, not falling into his humour or comprehending his -reference, but dreading that aught I might say would disturb him, held my -peace. And yet my apprehension increased. He set down his glass and -continued: - -"I had no hope of this yet, Richard, for you were ever slow to change. -Your conversion does credit to Mr. Allen as well as to you. In short, -sir, the rector gives me an excellent good account of your studies, and -adds that the King hath gained another loyal servant, for which I thank -God." - -I have no words to write of my feelings then. My head swam and my hand -trembled on my grandfather's, and I saw dimly the old gentleman's face -aglow with joy and pride, and knew not what to say or do. The answer I -framed, alas, remained unspoken. From his own lips I had heard how much -the news had mended him, and for once I lacked the heart, nay, the -courage, to speak the truth. But Mr. Carvel took no heed of my silence, -setting it down to another cause. - -"And so, my son," he said, "there is no need of sending you to Eton next -fall. I am not much longer for this earth, and can ill spare you: and -Mr. Allen kindly consents to prepare you for Oxford." - -"Mr. Allen consents to that, sir?" I gasped. I think, could I have laid -hands on the rector then, I would have thrashed him, cloth and all, -within an inch of his life. - -And as if to crown my misery Mr. Carvel rose, and bearing heavily on my -shoulder led me to the stable where Harvey and one of the black grooms -stood in livery to receive us. Harvey held by the bridle a blooded bay -hunter, and her like could scarce be found in the colony. As she stood -arching her neck and pawing the ground, I all confusion and shame, my -grandfather said simply: - -"Richard, this is Firefly. I have got her for you from Mr. Randolph, of -Virginia, for you are now old enough to have a good mount of your own." - -All that night I lay awake, trying to sift some motive for Mr. Allen's -deceit. For the life of me I could see no farther than a desire to keep -me as his pupil, since he was well paid for his tuition. Still, the game -did not seem worth the candle. However, he was safe in his lie. Shrewd -rogue that he was, he well knew that I would not risk the attack a -disappointment might bring my grandfather. - -What troubled me most of all was the fear that Grafton had reaped the -advantage of the opportunity the illness gave him, and by his insidious -arts had worked himself back into the good graces of his father. You -must not draw from this, my dears, that I feared for the inheritance. -Praised be God, I never thought of that! But I came by nature to hate -and to fear my uncle, as I hated and feared the devil. I saw him with my -father's eyes, and with my mother's, and as my grandfather had seen him -in the old days when he was strong. Instinct and reason alike made me -loathe him. As the months passed, and letters in Grafton's scroll hand -came from the Kent estate or from Annapolis, my misgivings were confirmed -by odd remarks that dropped from Mr. Carvel's lips. At length arrived -the revelation itself. - -"I fear, Richard," he had said querulously, "I fear that all these years -I have done your uncle an injustice. Dear Elizabeth was wont to plead -for him before she died, but I would never listen to her. I was hearty -and strong then, and my heart was hard. And a remembrance of many things -was fresh in my mind." He paused for breath, as was his habit now. And -I said nothing. "But Grafton has striven to wipe out the past. Sickness -teaches us that we must condone, and not condemn. He has lived a -reputable life, and made the most of the little start I gave him. -He has supported his Majesty and my Lord in most trying times. And his -Excellency tells me that the coming governor, Eden, will surely reward -him with a seat in the Council." - -I thought of Governor Sharpe's biting words to Grafton. The Governor -knew my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council. - -"A son is a son, Richard," continued Mr. Carvel. "You will one day find -that out. Your uncle has atoned. He hath been faithful during my -illness, despite my cold treatment. And he hath convinced me that your -welfare is at his heart. I believe he is fond of you, my lad." - -No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel -should become blind to Grafton's hypocrisy; forget his attempts to -prevent my father's marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother's birth. -The agony it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception, -I shall not dwell upon. And the thought bursting within me remained -unspoken. - -I saw less of Dorothy then than I had in any summer of my life before. -In spite of Mrs. Manners, the chrysalis had burst into the butterfly, -and Wilmot House had never been so gay. It must be remembered that -there were times when young ladies made their entrance into the world at -sixteen, and for a beauty to be unmarried at twenty-two was rare indeed. -When I went to Wilmot House to dine, the table would be always full, and -Mr. Marmaduke simpering at the head of it, his air of importance doubled -by his reflected glory. - -"We see nothing of you, my lad," he would say; "you must not let these -young gallants get ahead of you. How does your grandfather? I must pay -my compliments to-morrow." - -Of gallants there were enough, to be sure. Dr. Courtenay, of course, -with a nosegay on his coat, striving to catch the beauty's eye. And Mr. -Worthington and Mr. Dulany, and Mr. Fitzhugh and Mr. Paca, and I know not -how many other young bachelors of birth and means. And Will Fotheringay, -who spent some of his time with me at the Hall. Silver and China, with -the Manners coat-of-arms, were laid out that had not seen the light for -many along day. And there were picnics, and sailing parties, and dances -galore, some of which I attended, but heard of more. It seemed to me -that my lady was tiring of the doctor's compliments, and had transferred -her fickle favour to young Mr. Fitzhugh, who was much more worthy, by the -way. As for me, I had troubles enough then, and had become used in some -sort to being shelved. - -One night in July,--'twas the very day Mr. Carvel had spoken to me of -Grafton,--I had ridden over to Wilmot House to supper. I had little -heart for going, but good Mrs. Manners herself had made me promise, and -I could: not break my word. I must have sat very silent and preoccupied -at the table, where all was wit and merriment. And more than once I saw -the laughter leave Dorothy's face, and caught her eyes upon; me with such -a look as set my beast throbbing. They would not meet my own, but would -turn away instantly. I was heavy indeed that night, and did not follow -the company into the ballroom, but made my excuses to Mrs. Manners. - -The lawn lay bathed in moonlight; and as I picked, my way over it toward -the stables for Firefly, I paused to look back at the house aglow, with -light, the music of the fiddles and the sound of laughter floating out -of the open windows. Even as I gaped a white figure was framed in the -doorway, paused a moment on the low stone step, and then came on until -it stood beside me. - -"Are you not well, Richard?" - -"Yes, I am well," I answered. I scarcely knew my own voice. - -"Is your grandfather worse?" - -"No, Dorothy; he seems better to-day." - -She stood seemingly irresolute, her eyes new lifted, now falling before -mine. Her slender arms bare, save for the little puff at the shoulders; -her simple dress drawn a little above the waist, then falling straight to -the white slipper. How real the ecstasy of that moment, and the pain of -it! - -"Why do you not coarse over, as you used to?" she asked, in a low tone. - -"I am very busy," I replied evasively; "Mr. Carvel cannot attend to his -affairs." I longed to tell her the whole truth, but the words would not -come. - -"I hear you are managing the estate all alone," she said. - -"There is no one else to do it." - -"Richard," she cried, drawing closer; "you are in trouble. I--I have -seen it. You are so silent, and--and you seem to have become older. -Tell me, is it your Uncle Grafton?" - -So astonished was I at the question, and because she had divined so, -surely, that I did not answer. - -"Is it?" she asked again. - -"Yes," I said; "yes, in part." - -And then came voices calling from the house. They had missed her. - -"I am so sorry, Richard. I shall tell no one." - -She laid her hand ever so lightly upon mine and was gone. I stood -staring after her until she disappeared in the door. All the way home -I marvelled, my thoughts tumultuous, my hopes rising and falling. - -But when next I saw her, I thought she had forgotten. - -We had little company at the Hall that year, on account of Mr. Carvel. -And I had been busy indeed. I sought with all my might to master a -business for which I had but little taste, and my grandfather -complimented me, before the season was done, upon my management. -I was wont to ride that summer at four of a morning to canter beside Mr. -Starkie afield, and I came to know the yield of every patch to a hogshead -and the pound price to a farthing. I grew to understand as well as -another the methods of curing the leaf. And the wheat pest appearing -that year, I had the good fortune to discover some of the clusters in the -sheaves, and ground our oyster-shells in time to save the crop. Many a -long evening I spent on the wharves with old Stanwix, now toothless and -living on his pension, with my eye on the glow of his pipe and my ear -bent to his stories of the sea. It was his fancy that the gift of -prophecy had come to him with the years; and at times, when his look -would wander to the black rigging in the twilight, he would speak -strangely enough. - -"Faith, Mr. Richard," he would say; "tho' your father was a soldier afore -ye, ye were born to the deck of a ship-o'-war. Mark an old man's words, -sir." - -"Can you see the frigate, Stanwix?" I laughed once, when he had repeated -this with more than common solemnity. - -His reply rose above the singing of the locusts. - -"Ay, sir, that I can. But she's no frigate, sir. Devil knows what she -is. She looks like a big merchantman to me, such as I've seed in the -Injy trade, with a high poop in the old style. And her piercin's be not -like a frigate." He said this with a readiness to startle me, and little -enough superstition I had. A light was on his seared face, and his pipe -lay neglected on the boards. "Ay, sir, and there be a flag astern of her -never yet seed on earth, nor on the waters under the earth. The tide is -settin' in, the tide is settin' in." - -These were words to set me thinking. And many a time they came back to -me when the old man was laid away in the spot reserved for those who -sailed the seas for Mr. Carvel. - -Every week I drew up a report for my grandfather, and thus I strove by -shouldering labour and responsibility to ease my conscience of that load -which troubled it. For often, as we walked together through the yellow -fields of an evening, it had been on my tongue to confess the lie Mr. -Allen had led me into. But the sight of the old man, trembling and -tremulous, aged by a single stroke, his childlike trust in my strength -and beliefs, and above all his faith in a political creed which he nigh -deemed needful for the soul's salvation,--these things still held me -back. Was it worth while now, I asked myself, to disturb the peace of -that mind? - -Thus the summer wore on to early autumn. And one day I was standing -booted and spurred in the stables, Harvey putting the bridle upon -Firefly, when my boy Hugo comes running in. - -"Marse Dick!" he cries, "Marse Satan he come in the pinnace, and young -Marse Satan and Missis Satan, and Marse Satan's pastor!" - -"What the devil do you mean, Hugo?" - -"Young ebony's right, sir," chuckled Harvey; "'tis the devil and his -following." - -"Do you mean Mr. Grafton, fellow?" I demanded, the unwelcome truth coming -over me. - -"That he does," remarked Harvey, laconically. "You won't be wanting her -now, your honour?" - -"Hold my stirrup," I cried, for the news had put me in anger. "Hold my -stirrup, sirrah!" - -I believe I took Firefly the best of thirty miles that afternoon and -brought her back in the half-light, my saddle discoloured with her sweat. -I clanked into the hall like a captain of horse. The night was sharp -with the first touch of autumn, and a huge backlog lay on the irons. -Around it, in a comfortable half-circle sat our guests, Grafton and Mr. -Allen and Philip smoking and drinking for a whet against supper, and Mrs. -Grafton in my grandfather's chair. There was an easy air of possession -about the party of them that they had never before assumed, and the sight -made me rattle again, the big door behind me. - -"A surprise for you, my dear nephew," Grafton said gayly, "I'll, lay a -puncheon you did, not, expect us." - -Mr. Carvel woke with a start at the sound of the door and said -querulously, "Guests, my lord, and I have done my poor best to make them -welcome in your absence." - -The sense of change in him stung me. How different would his tone have -been a year ago! - -He tattooed with his cane, which was the sign he generally made when he -was ready for bed. Toward night his speech would hurt him. I assisted -him up, the stairs, my uncle taking his arm on the other side. And -together, with Diomedes help; we undressed him, Grafton talking in low -tomes the while: Since this was, an office I was wont to perform, my -temper was now overwhelming me. But I kept my month closed. At last he -had had the simple meal Dr. Leiden allowed him, his candles were snuffed, -and my uncle and I made our way to the hall together: There my aunt and -Mr. Allen were at picquet. - -"Supper is insupportably late," says she; with a yawn, and rings the -hand-bell. "Scipio," she cries, "why are we not served?" - -I took a stride forward. But my uncle raised a restraining hand. - -"Caroline, remember that this is not our house," says he, reprovingly. - -There fell a deep silence; the log cracking; and just then the door swung -on its hinges, and Mr. Starkie entered with the great bunch of keys in -his hand. - -"The buildings are all secure; Mr. Richard," he said. - -"Very good, Starkie," I replied. I turned to Scipio, standing by the -low-boy, his teeth, going like a castanet. - -"You may serve at the usual hour, Scipio," said I. - -Supper began stiff as a state banquet. My uncle was conciliatory, with -the manners of a Crichton. My aunt, not having come from generations of -silver and self-control, flatly in a bad humour. Mr. Allen talked from -force of habit, being used to pay in such kind for his meals. But -presently the madeira, warmed these two into a better spirit. I felt -that I had victory on my side, and was nothing loth to join them at -whist, Philip and I against the rector and my aunt, and won something -like two pounds apiece from them. Grafton made it a rule never to play. - -The next morning, when I returned from my inspection, I found the rector -and Philip had decamped with two of our choice horses, and that my uncle -and aunt had commanded the barge, and gone to Mr. Lloyd's. I sent for -Scipio. - -"Fore de Lawd, Marse Richard," he wailed, "'twan't Scipio's fault. Marse -Grafton is dry fambly!" This was Scipio's strongest argument. "I jes' -can't refuse one of de fambly, Marse Dick; and old Marse he say he too -old now for quarrellin'." - -I saw that resistance was useless. There was nothing for it but to bide -any time. And I busied myself with bills of cargo until I heard the -horses on the drive. Mr. Allen and Philip came swaggering in, flushed -with the exercise, and calling for punch, and I met them in the hall. - -"A word with you, Mr. Allen!" I called out. - -"A thousand, Mr. Richard, if you like," he said gayly, "as soon as this -thirst of mine be quenched." - -I waited while he drained two glasses, when he followed me into the -library, closing the door behind him. - -"Now, sir," I began, "though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual -adviser, I intend speaking plain. For I know you to be one of the -greatest rogues in the colony." - -I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me -through. But I had misjudged him. - -"Speak plain, by all means," he replied; "but first let me ask for some -tobacco." - -He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the -moment I was silent with sheer surprise. - -"You know I can't call you out," he went on, surrounding himself with -clouds of smoke, "a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I doubt -whether I should. I like you, Richard," said he. "You are straight- -spoken and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad I should -have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me squirm for -life's luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is prime -tobacco, Richard." - -He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous -admiration for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could not -help liking him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably handsome, -and his riding clothes were of the latest London cut. - -"Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you -practise?" I asked curiously. - -"No doubt," he answered carelessly; "but these are well enough, and -shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?" - -This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in -the interval. - -"I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions, -Mr. Allen," I said. "I am not of the King's party now, and never shall -be. And you know this better than another." - -"Those are strong words, Richard, my lad," said he, bringing his eyebrows -together. - -"They are true words," I retorted. "Why did you lie, I say?" - -He said nothing for a while, but his breath came heavily. - -"I will pass it, I will pass it," he said at length, "but, by God! it is -more than I have had to swallow in all my life before. Look at your -grandfather, sir!" he cried; "behold him on the very brink of the grave, -and ask me again why I lied to him! His hope of heaven is scarce less -sacred to him than his love of the King, and both are so tightly wrapped -about his heart that this knowledge of you would break it. Yes, break -his heart, I say" (and he got to his legs), "and you would kill him for -the sake of a boyish fancy!" - -I knew he was acting, as well as though he had climbed upon the table and -said it. And yet he had struck the very note of my own fears, and hit -upon the one reason why I had not confessed lung ago. - -"There is more you might have said, Mr. Allen," I remarked presently; -"you have a cause for keeping me under your instruction, and that is -behind all." - -He gave me a strange look. - -"You are too acute by far," said he; "your imagination runs with you. -I have said I like you, and I can teach you classics as well as another. -Is it not enough to admit that the money I get for your instruction keeps -me in champagne?" - -"No, it is not enough," I said stoutly. - -"Then you must guess again, my lad," he answered with a laugh, and left -the room with the easy grace that distinguished him. - -There was armed peace the rest of my uncle's visit. They departed on the -third day. My Aunt Caroline, when she was not at picquet with Mr. Allen -or quarrelling with Mrs. Willis or with Grafton himself, yawned without -cessation. She declared in one of her altercations with her lord and -master that she would lose her wits were they to remain another day, a -threat that did not seem to move Grafton greatly. Philip ever maintained -the right to pitch it on the side of his own convenience, and he chose in -this instance to come to the rescue of his dear mamma, and turned the -scales in her favour. He was pleased to characterize the Hall as -insupportable, and vowed that his clothes would be out of fashion -before they reached Rousby Hall, their next stopping-place. To do Philip -justice, he was more honest a rascal than his father, though I am of the -opinion that he had not the brain for great craft. And he had drawn from -his mother a love of baubles which kept his mind from scheming. He had -little to say to me, and I less to him. - -Grafton, as may be supposed, made me distinct advances before his -departure, perceiving the unwisdom of antagonizing me unnecessarily. He -had the imprudence once to ask of me the facts and figures of the estate; -and tho' 'twas skilfully done by contrasting his own crops in Kent, you -may be sure I was on my guard, and that he got nothing. - -I was near forgetting an incident of their visit which I afterwards had -good cause to remember. The morning of my talk with Mr. Allen I went to -the stables to see how he had used Cynthia, and found old Harvey wiping -her down, and rumbling the while like a crater. - -"What think you of the rector as a representative of heaven, Harvey?" I -asked. - -"Him a representative of heaven!" he snorted; "I've heard tell of rotten -boroughs, and I'm thinking Mr. Allen will be standing for one. What be -him and Mr. Grafton a-doing here, sir, plotting all kinds o' crime while -the old gentleman's nigh on his back?" - -"Plotting?" I said, catching at the word. - -"Ay, plotting," repeated Harvey, casting his cloth away; "murder and all -the crimes in the calendar, I take it. I hear him and Mr. Grafton among -the stalls this morning, and when they sees me they look like Knipe, -here, caught with a fowl." - -"And what were they saying? "I demanded. - -"Saying! God only knows their wickedness. I got the words 'Upper -Marlboro' and 'South River' and 'next voyage,' and that profligate rector -wanted to know as to how 'Griggs was reliable.'" - -I thought no more of it at the time, believing it to be some of the small -rascalities they were forever at. But that name of Griggs (why, the -powers only know) stuck in my mind to turn up again. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE RED IN THE CARVEL BLOOD - -After that, when we went back to Annapolis for the winter, there was no -longer any disguise between my tutor and myself. I was not of a mind to -feign a situation that did not exist, nor to permit him to do so. I gave -him to understand that tho' I went to him for instruction, 'twas through -no fault of mine. That I would learn what I pleased and do what pleased -me. And the rector, a curse upon him, seemed well content with that; nor -could I come at his devil's reason far wanting me, save for the money, -as he had declared. There were days when he and I never touched a hook, -both being out of humour for study, when he told me yarns of Frederick of -Prussia and his giant guard, of Florence and of Venice, and of the court -of his Holiness of Rome. For he had drifted about the earth like a log- -end in the Atlantic, before his Lordship gave him his present berth. We -passed, too, whole mornings at picquet, I learning enough of Horace to -quote at the routs we both attended, but a deal more of kings and deuces. -And as I may add, that he got no more of my money than did I of his. - -The wonder of it was that we never became friends. He was two men, this -rector of St. Anne's, half of him as lovable as any I ever encountered. -But trust him I never would, always meeting him on the middle ground; and -there were times, after his talks with Grafton, when his eyes were like a -cat's, and I was conscious of a sinister note in his dealing which put me -on my guard. - -You will say, my dears, that some change had come over me, that I was no -longer the same lad I have been telling you of. - -Those days were not these, yet I make no show of hiding or of palliation. -Was it Dorothy's conduct that drove me? Not wholly. A wild red was ever -in the Carvel blood, in Captain Jack, in Lionel, in the ancestor of King -Charles's day, who fought and bled and even gambled for his king. And my -grandfather knew this; he warned me, but he paid my debts. And I thank -Heaven he felt that my heart was right. - -I was grown now, certainly in stature. And having managed one of the -largest plantations in the province, I felt the man, as lads are wont -after their first responsibilities. I commanded my wine at the Coffee -House with the best of the bucks, and was made a member of the South -River and Jockey clubs. I wore the clothes that came out to me from -London, and vied in fashion with Dr. Courtenay and other macaronies. -And I drove a carriage of mine own, the Carvel arms emblazoned thereon, -and Hugo in the family livery. - -After a deal of thought upon the subject, I decided, for a while at -least, to show no political leanings at all. And this was easier of -accomplishment than you may believe, for at that time in Maryland Tory -and Whig were amiable enough, and the young gentlemen of the first -families dressed alike and talked alike at the parties they both -attended. The non-importation association had scarce made itself felt in -the dress of society. Gentlemen of degree discussed differences amicably -over their decanters. And only on such occasions as Mr. Hood's return, -and the procession of the Lower House through the streets, and the -arrival of the Good Intent, did high words arise among the quality. And -it was because class distinctions were so strongly marked that it took so -long to bring loyalists and patriots of high rank to the sword's point. - -I found time to manage such business affairs of Mr. Carvel's as he could -not attend to himself. Grafton and his family dined in Marlboro' Street -twice in the week; my uncle's conduct toward me was the very soul of -consideration, and he compelled that likewise from his wife and his son. -So circumspect was he that he would have fooled one who knew him a whit -less than I. He questioned me closely upon my studies, and in my -grandfather's presence I was forced to answer. And when the rector came -to dine and read to Mr. Carvel, my uncle catechised him so searchingly on -my progress that he was pushed to the last source of his ingenuity for -replies. More than once was I tempted to blurt out the whole wretched -business, for I well understood there was some deep game between him and -Grafton. In my uncle's absence, my aunt never lost a chance for an ill- -natured remark upon Patty, whom she had seen that winter at the -assemblies and elsewhere. And she deplored the state our people of -fashion were coming to, that they allowed young girls without family to -attend their balls. - -"But we can expect little else, father," she would say to Mr. Carvel -nodding in his chair, "when some of our best families openly espouse the -pernicious doctrines of republicanism. They are gone half mad over that -Wilkes who should have been hung before this. Philip, dear, pour the -wine for your grandfather." - -Miss Patty had been well received. I took her to her first assembly, -where her simple and unassuming ways had made her an instant favourite; -and her face, which had the beauty of dignity and repose even so early in -life, gained her ample attention. I think she would have gone but little -had not her father laughed her out of some of her domesticity. No longer -at Sunday night supper in Gloucester Street was the guest seat empty. -There was more than one guest seat now, and the honest barrister himself -was the most pleased at the change. As I took my accustomed place on the -settle cushion,--Patty's first embroidery,--he would cry: - -"Heigho, Richard, our little Miss Prim hath become a belle. And I must -have another clerk now to copy out my briefs, and a housekeeper soon, i' -faith." - -Patty would never fail to flush up at the words, and run to perch on her -father's knee and put her hand over his mouth. - -"How can you, Mr. Swain?" says she; "how can you, when 'tis you and -mother, and Richard here, who make me go into the world? You know I -would a thousand times rather bake your cakes and clean your silver! -But you will not hear of it," - -"Fie!" says the barrister. "Listen to her, Richard! And yet she will -fly up the stairs to don a fine gown at the first rap of the knocker. -Oh, the wenches, the wenches! Are they not all alike, mother?" - -"They have changed none since I was a lass," replies the quiet invalid, -with a smile. "And you should know what I was, Henry." - -"I know!" cries he; "none better. Well I recall the salmon and white -your mother gave you before I came to Salem." He sighed and then laughed -at the recollection. "And when this strapping young Singleton comes, -Richard, 'twould do you good to be hiding there in that cupboard,--and it -would hold you,--and count the seconds until Miss Prim has her skirt in -her hand and her foot on the lower step. And yet how innocent is she now -before you and me." - -Here he would invariably be smothered. - -"Percy Singleton!" says Patty, with a fine scorn; "'twill be Mr. -Eglinton, the curate, next." - -"This I know," says her father, slapping me on the shoulder, "this I -know, that you are content to see Richard without primping." - -"But I have known Richard since I was six," says she. "Richard is one -of the family. There is no need of disguise from him." - -I thought, ruefully enough, that it seemed my fate to be one of the -family everywhere I went. - -And just then, as if in judgment, the gate snapped and the knocker -sounded, and Patty leaped down with a blush. "What said I say?" cries -the barrister. "I have not seen human nature in court for naught. Run, -now," says he, pinching her cheek as she stood hesitating whether to fly -or stay; "run and put on the new dress I have bought you. And Richard -and I will have a cup of ale in the study." - -The visitor chanced to be Will Fotheringay that time. He was not the -only one worn out with the mad chase in Prince George Street, and -preferred a quiet evening with a quiet beauty to the crowded lists of -Miss Manners. Will declared that the other gallants were fools over the -rare touch of blue in the black hair: give him Miss Swain's, quoth he, -lifting his glass,--hers was; the colour of a new sovereign. Will was -not, the only one. But I think Percy Singleton was the best of them all, -tho' Patty ridiculed him--every chance she got, and even to his face. -So will: the best-hearted and soberest of women play the coquette. -Singleton was rather a reserved young Englishman of four and twenty, -who owned a large estate in Talbot which he was laying out with great -success. Of a Whig family in the old country, he had been drawn to that -party in the new, and so, had made Mr. Swain's acquaintance. The next -step in his fortunes was to fall in love with Patty, which was natural -enough. Many a night that winter I walked with him from Gloucester -Street to the Coffee House, to sit an hour over, a battle. And there -Master Tom and Dr. Hamilton, and other gay macaronies would sometimes -join us. Singleton had a greater contempt for Tom than I, but bore with -him for his sister's sake. For Tom, in addition to his other follies, -was become an open loyalist, and never missed his Majesty's health, -though he knew no better than my Hugo the question at issue. 'Twas not -zeal for King George, however, that made him drunk at one of the -assemblies, and forced his sister to leave in the midst of a dance for -very shame. - -"Oh, Richard, is, there not something you can do?" she cried, when, I had -got her back in the little parlour in Gloucester Street; "father has -argued and, pleaded and threatened in vain. I thought,--I thought -perhaps you might help him." - -"I think I am not one to preach, or to boast," I replied soberly. - -"Yes," said she, looking grave; "I know you are wilder than you used to -be; that you play more than you ought, and higher than you ought." - -I was silent. - -"And I suspect at whose door it lies," said she. - -"'Tis in the blood, Patty," I answered. - -She glanced at me quickly. - -"I know you better than you think," she said. "But Tom has not your -excuse. And if he had only your faults I would say nothing. He does not -care for those he should, and he is forever in the green-room of the -theatre." - -I made haste to change the subject, and to give her what comfort I might; -for she was sobbing before she finished. And the next day I gave Tom a -round talking-to for having so little regard for his sister, the hem of -whose skirt he was not worthy to touch. He took it meekly enough, with a -barrel of pat excuses to come after. And he asked me to lend him my -phaeton, that he might go a-driving with Miss Crane, of the theatrical -company, to Round Bay! - -Meanwhile I saw Miss Manners more frequently than was good for my peace -of mind, and had my turn as her partner at the balls. But I could not -bring myself to take third or fourth rank in the army that attended her. -I, who had been her playmate, would not become her courtier. Besides, I -had not the wit. - -Was it strange that Dr. Courtenay should pride himself upon the discovery -of a new beauty? And in the Coffee House, and in every drawing-room in -town, prophesy for her a career of conquest such as few could boast? -She was already launched upon that career. And rumour had it that Mr. -Marmaduke was even then considering taking her home to London, where the -stage was larger and the triumph greater. Was it surprising that the -Gazette should contain a poem with the doctor's well-known ear-marks upon -it? It set the town a-wagging, and left no room for doubt as to who had -inspired it. - - "Sweet Pandora, tho' formed of Clay, - Was fairer than the Light of Day. - By Venus learned in Beauty's Arts, - And destined thus to conquer Hearts. - A Goddess of this Town, I ween, - Fair as Pandora, scarce Sixteen, - Is destined, e'en by Jove's Command, - To conquer all of Maryland. - Oh, Bachelors, play have a Care, - For She will all your Hearts ensnare." - -So it ran. I think, if dear Mrs. Manners could have had her way, Dolly -would have passed that year at a certain young ladies' school in New -York. But Mr. Marmaduke's pride in his daughter's beauty got the better -of her. The strut in his gait became more marked the day that poem -appeared, and he went to the Coffee House both morning and evening, -taking snuff to hide his emotions when Miss Manners was spoken of; and he -was perceived by many in Church Street arm in arm with Dr. Courtenay -himself. - -As you may have imagined before now, the doctor's profession was leisure, -not medicine. He had known ambition once, it was said, and with reason, -for he had studied surgery in Germany for the mere love of the science. -After which, making the grand tour in France and Italy, he had taken up -that art of being a gentleman in which men became so proficient in -my young days. He had learned to speak French like a Parisian, had -hobnobbed with wit and wickedness from Versailles to Rome, and then had -come back to Annapolis to set the fashions and to spend the fortune his -uncle lately had left him. He was our censor of beauty, and passed -judgment upon all young ladies as they stepped into the arena. To be -noticed by him meant success; to be honoured in the Gazette was to be -crowned at once a reigning belle. The chord of his approval once set -a-vibrating, all minor chords sang in harmony. And it was the doctor who -raised the first public toast to Miss Manners. Alas! I might have known -it would be so! - -But Miss Dorothy was not of a nature to remain dependent upon a censor's -favour. The minx deported herself like any London belle of experience, -as tho' she had known the world from her cradle. She was not to be -deceived by the face value of the ladies' praises, nor rebuffed -unmercifully by my Aunt Caroline, who had held the sceptre in the absence -of a younger aspirant. The first time these ladies clashed, which was -not long in coming, my aunt met with a wit as sharp again as her own, and -never afterwards essayed an open tilt. The homage of men Dolly took as -Caesar received tribute, as a matter of course. The doctor himself rode -to the races beside the Manners coach, leaning gallantly over the door. -My lady held court in her father's box, received and dismissed, smiled -and frowned, with Courtenay as her master of ceremonies. Mr. Dulany was -one of the presidents of the Jockey Club that year, and his horse winning -the honours he presented her with his colours, scarlet and white, which -she graciously wore. The doctor swore he would import a horse the next -season on the chance of the privilege. My aunt was furious. I have -never mentioned her beauty because I never could see it. 'Twas a coarser -type than attracted me. She was then not greatly above six and thirty, -appearing young for that age, and she knew the value of lead in judicious -quantity. At that meet gentlemen came to her box only to tally of Miss -Manners, to marvel that one so young could have the 'bel air', to praise -her beauty and addresse, or to remark how well Mr. Durlany's red and -white became her. With all of which Mrs. Grafton was fain to agree, and -must even excel, until her small stock of patience was exhausted. To add -to her chagrin my aunt lost a pretty sum to the rector by Mr. Dulany's -horse. I came upon her after the race trying to coax her head-dress, -through her coach door, Mr. Allen having tight hold of her hand the -while. - -"And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does: he?" I overheard her -saying: "I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay's motions. Were -he, to choose, a wench out of the King's passengers I'd warrant our -macaronies to compose odes to her eyebrows." And at that moment -perceiving me she added, "Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew? Miss -Dolly is the craze now, and will last about as long as another of the -doctor's whims. And then you shall have her to yourself." - -"A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline," I said. - -"Hoity-toity," returned my aunt, who had by then succeeded in getting her -head-gear safe within; "the fashion, yes until a prettier comes along." - -"There is small danger of that for the present," I said, smiling: "Surely -you can find no fault with this choice!" - -"Gadzooks! If I were blind, sir, I think I might!" she cried -unguardedly. - -"I will not dispute that, Aunt Caroline," I answered. - -And as I rode off I heard her giving directions in no mild tone to the -coachman through Mr. Allen. - -Perchance you did not know, my dears, that Annapolis had the first -theatre in all the colonies. And if you care to search through the heap -of Maryland Gazettes in the garret, I make no doubt you will come across -this announcement for a certain night in the spring of the year 1769: - - By Permission of his Excellency, the Governor, - at the New Theatre in Annapolis, - by the American Company of Comedians, on Monday - next, being the 22nd of this Instant, will be performed - - ROMEO AND JULIET. - - (Romeo by a young Gentleman for his Diversion.) - Likewise the Farce called - - MISS IN HER TEENS. - - To begin precisely at Seven of the Clock. Tickets - to be had at the Printing Office. Box 1Os. Pit 1s 6d. - No Person to be admitted behind the Scenes. - - -The gentleman to perform Romeo was none other than Dr. Courtenay himself. -He had a gentlemanly passion for the stage, as was the fashion in those -days, and had organized many private theatricals. The town was in a -ferment over the event, boxes being taken a week ahead. The doctor -himself writ the epilogue, to be recited by the beautiful Mrs. Hallam, -who had inspired him the year before to compose that famous poem -beginning: - - "Around her see the Graces play, - See Venus' Wanton doves, - And in her Eye's Pellucid Ray - See little Laughing Loves. - Ye gods! 'Tis Cytherea's Face." - - -You may find that likewise in Mr. Green's newspaper. - -The new theatre was finished in West Street that spring, the old one -having proven too small for our gay capital. 'Twas then the best in the -New World, the censor having pronounced it far above any provincial -playhouse he had seen abroad. The scenes were very fine, the boxes -carved and gilded in excellent good taste, and both pit and gallery -commodious. And we, too, had our "Fops' Alley," where our macaronies -ogled the fair and passed from box to box. - -For that night of nights when the doctor acted I received an invitation -from Dolly to Mr. Marmaduke's box, and to supper afterward in Prince -George Street. When I arrived, the playhouse was lit with myriad -candles,--to be snuffed save the footlights presently,--and the tiers -were all brilliant with the costumes of ladies and gentlemen. Miss -Tayloe and Miss Dulany were of our party, with Fitzhugh and Worthington, -and Mr. Manners for propriety. The little fop spent his evening, by the -way, in a box opposite, where my Aunt Caroline gabbled to him and Mr. -Allen during the whole performance. My lady got more looks than any in -the house. She always drew admiration; indeed, but there had been much -speculation of late whether she favoured Dr. Courtenay or Fitzhugh, and -some had it that the doctor's acting would decide between the two. - -When Romeo came upon the stage he was received with loud applause. But -my lady showed no interest,--not she, while the doctor fervently recited, -"Out of her favour, where I am in love." In the first orchard scene, -with the boldness of a practised lover, he almost ignored Mrs. Hallam -in the balcony. It seemed as though he cast his burning words and -languishing glances at my lady in the box, whereupon there was a deal of -nudging round about. Miss asked for her smelling salts, and declared the -place was stifling. But I think if the doctor had cherished a hope of -her affections he lost it when he arrived at the lines, "She speaks, yet -she says nothing." At that unhappy moment Miss Dorothy was deep in -conversation with Fitzhugh, the audible titter in the audience arousing -her. How she reddened when she perceived the faces turned her way! - -"What was it, Betty?" she demanded quickly. - -But Betty was not spiteful, and would not tell. Fitzhugh himself -explained, and to his sorrow, for during the rest of the evening she -would have nothing to do with him. Presently she turned to me. Glancing -upward to where Patty leaned on the rail between Will Fotheringay and -Singleton, she whispered: - -"I wonder you can sit here so quiet, Richard. You are showing a deal of -self-denial." - -"I am happy enough," I answered, surprised. - -"I hear you have a rival," says she. - -"I know I have a dozen," I answered. - -"I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway's fields but -yesterday," said Dolly, "and as they came out upon the road they looked -as guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm." - -Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head. I was -thrown all in a heap. - -"You need not be so disturbed," whispers my lady. "Singleton has a -crooked mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between you. -I adore her, Richard. I wish I had her sweet ways." - -"But," I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, "why should you -think me in love with Patty? I have never been accused of that before." - -"Oh, fie! You deny her?" says Dolly. "I did not think that of you, -Richard." - -"You should know better," I replied, with some bitterness. - -We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage, -whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And -though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me -through and through. - -"You do not care for Patty?" she whispered. And I thought a quiver of -earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her -breath fanned my cheek. - -"No," I said. "Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make -pretences?" - -She turned away. - -"But you," I said, bending to her ear, "is it Fitzhugh, Dorothy?" - -I heard her laugh softly. - -"No," said she, "I thought you might divine, sir." - -Was it possible? And yet she had played so much with me that I dared not -risk the fire. She had too many accomplished gallants at her feet to -think of Richard, who had no novelty and no wit. I sat still, barely -conscious of the rising and falling voices beyond the footlights, feeling -only her living presence at my side. She spoke not another word until -the playhouse servants had relighted the chandeliers, and Dr. Courtenay -came in, flushed with triumph, for his mead of praise. - -"And how went it, Miss Manners?" says he, very confident. - -"Why, you fell over the orchard wall, doctor," retorts my lady. "La! -I believe I could have climbed it better myself." - -And all he got was a hearty laugh for his pains, Mr. Marmaduke joining in -from the back of the box. And the story was at the Coffee House early on -the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A FESTIVAL AND A PARTING - -My grandfather and I were seated at table together. It was early June, -the birds were singing in the garden, and the sweet odours of the flowers -were wafted into the room. - -"Richard," says he, when Scipio had poured his claret, "my illness -cheated you out of your festival last year. I dare swear you deem -yourself too old for birthdays now." - -I laughed. - -"So it is with lads," said Mr. Carvel; "they will rush into manhood as -heedless as you please. Take my counsel, boy, and remain young. Do not -cross the bridge before you have to. And I have been thinking that we -shall have your fete this year, albeit you are grown, and Miss Dolly is -the belle of the province. 'Tis like sunshine into my old heart to see -the lads and lasses again, and to hear the merry, merry fiddling. I will -have his new Excellency, who seems a good and a kindly man, and Lloyd and -Tilghman and Dulany and the rest, with their ladies, to sit with me. And -there will be plenty of punch and syllabub and sangaree, I warrant; and -tarts and jellies and custards, too, for the misses. Ring for Mrs. -Willis, my son." - -Willis came with her curtsey to the old gentleman, who gave his order -then and there. He never waited for a fancy of this kind to grow cold. - -"We shall all be children again, on that day, Mrs. Willis," says he. -"And I catch any old people about, they shall be thrust straight in the -town stocks, i' faith." - -Willis made another curtsey. - -"We missed it sorely, last year, please your honour," says she, and -departs smiling. - -"And you shall have your Patty Swain, Richard," Mr. Carvel continued. -"Do you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place -of a present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel. -And I love that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath -demureness and dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage -you are all mad over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too. I'll warrant -I'd teach his daughter loyalty in a day, and I had again your years and -your spirit!" - -I have but to close my eyes, and my fancy takes me back to that birthday -festival. Think of it, my dears! Near threescore years are gone since -then, when this old man you call grandfather, and some--bless me!--great- -grandfather, was a lusty lad like Comyn here. But his hand is steady as -he writes these words and his head clear, because he hath not greatly -disabused that life which God has given him. - -How can I, tho' her face and form are painted on my memory, tell you what -fair, pert Miss Dorothy was at that time'! Ay, I know what you would -say: that Sir Joshua's portrait hangs above, executed but the year after, -and hung at the second exhibition of the Royal Academy. As I look upon -it now, I say that no whit of its colour is overcharged. And there is -likewise Mr. Peale's portrait, done much later. I answer that these -great masters have accomplished what poor, human art can do. But Nature -hath given us a better picture. "Come hither, Bess! Yes, truly, you -have Dolly's hair, with the very gloss upon it. But fashions have -changed, my child, and that is not as Dolly wore it." Whereupon Bess -goes to the portrait, and presently comes back to give me a start. -And then we go hand in hand up the stairs of Calvert House even to the -garret, where an old cedar chest is laid away under the eaves. Bess, -the minx, well knows it, and takes out a prim little gown with the white -fading yellow, and white silk mits without fingers, and white stockings -with clocks, and a gauze cap, with wings and streamers, that sits saucily -on the black locks; and the lawn-embroidered apron; and such dainty, -high-heeled slippers with the pearls still a-glisten upon the buckles. -Away she flies to put them on. And then my heart gives a leap to see my -Dorothy back again,--back again as she was that June afternoon we went -together to my last birthday party, her girlish arms bare to the elbow, -and the lace about her slender throat. Yes, Bess hath the very tilt of -her chin, the regal grace of that slim figure, and the deep blue eyes. - -"Grandfather, dear, you are crushing the gown!" - -And so the fire is not yet gone out of this old frame. - -Ah, yes, there they are again, those unpaved streets of old Annapolis -arched with great trees on either side. And here is Dolly, holding her -skirt in one hand and her fan in the other, and I in a brave blue coat, -and pumps with gold buttons, and a cocked hat of the newest fashion. -I had met her leaning over the gate in Prince George Street. And, what -was strange for her, so deep in thought that she jumped when I spoke her -name. - -"Dorothy, I have come for you to walk to the party, as we used when we -were children." - -"As we used when we were children!" cried she. And flinging wide the -gate, stretched out her hand for me to take. "And you are eighteen years -to-day! It seems but last year when we skipped hand in hand to Marlboro' -Street with Mammy Lucy behind us. Are you coming, mammy?" she called. - -"Yes, mistis, I'se comin'," said a voice from behind the golden-rose -bushes, and out stepped Aunt Lucy in a new turban, making a curtsey to -me. "La, Marse Richard!" said she, "to think you'se growed to be a -fine gemman! 'Taint but t'other day you was kissin' Miss Dolly on de -plantation." - -"It seems longer than that to me, Aunt Lucy," I answered, laughing at -Dolly's blushes. - -"You have too good a memory, mammy," said my lady, withdrawing her -fingers from mine. - -"Bress you, honey! De ole woman doan't forgit some things." - -And she fell back to a respectful six paces. - -"Those were happy times," said Dorothy. Then the little sigh became a -laugh. "I mean to enjoy myself to-day, Richard. But I fear I shall not -see as much of you as I used. You are old enough to play the host, now." - -"You shall see as much as you will." - -"Where have you been of late, sir? In Gloucester Street?" - -"'Tis your own fault, Dolly. You are changeable as the sky,--to-day -sunny, and to-morrow cold. I am sure of my welcome in Gloucester -Street." - -She tripped a step as we turned the corner, and came closer to my side. - -"You must learn to take me as you find me, dear Richard. To-day I am in -a holiday humour." - -Some odd note in her tone troubled me, and I glanced at her quickly. She -was a constant wonder and puzzle to me. After that night at the theatre -my hopes had risen for the hundredth time, but I had gone to Prince -George Street on the morrow to meet another rebuff--and Fitzhugh. So I -had learned to interpret her by other means than words, and now her mood -seemed reckless rather than merry. - -"Are you not happy, Dolly?" I asked abruptly. - -She laughed. "What a silly question!" she said. "Why do you ask?" - -"Because I believe you are not." - -In surprise she looked up at me, and then down at the pearls upon her -satin slippers. - -"I am going with you to your birthday festival, Richard. Could we wish -for more? I am as happy as you." - -"That may well be, for I might be happier." - -Again her eyes met mine, and she hummed an air. So we came to the gate, -beside which stood Diomedes and Hugo in the family claret-red. A coach -was drawn up, and another behind it, and we went down the leafy walk in -the midst of a bevy of guests. - -We have no such places nowadays, my dears, as was my grandfather's. The -ground between the street and the brick wall in the rear was a great -stretch, as ample in acreage as many a small country-place we have in -these times. The house was on the high land in front, hedged in by old -trees, and thence you descended by stately tiers until you came to the -level which held the dancers. Beyond that, and lower still, a lilied -pond widened out of the sluggish brook with a cool and rustic spring- -house at one end. The spring-house was thatched, with windows looking -out upon the water. Long after, when I went to France, I was reminded -of the shy beauty of this part of my old home by the secluded pond of the -Little Trianon. So was it that King Louis's Versailles had spread its -influence a thousand leagues to our youthful continent. - -My grandfather sat in his great chair on the sward beside the fiddlers, -his old friends gathering around him, as in former years. - -"And this is the miss that hath already broken half the bachelor hearts -in town!" said he, gayly. "What was my prediction, Miss Dolly, when you -stepped your first dance at Carvel Hall?" - -"Indeed, you do me wrong, Mr. Carvel!" - -"And I were a buck, you would not break mine, I warrant, unless it were -tit for tat," said my grandfather; thereby putting me to more confusion -than Dolly, who laughed with the rest. - -"'Tis well to boast, Mr. Carvel, when we are out of the battle," cried -Mr. Lloyd. - -Dolly was carried off immediately, as I expected. The doctor and -Worthington and Fitzhugh were already there, and waiting. I stood by Mr. -Carvel's chair, receiving the guests, and presently came Mr. Swain and -Patty. - -"Heigho!" called Mr. Carvel, when he saw her; "here is the young lady -that hath my old affections. You are right welcome, Mr. Swain. Scipio, -another chair! 'Tis not over the wall any more, Miss Patty, with our -flowered India silk. But I vow I love you best with your etui." - -Patty, too, was carried off, for you may be sure that Will Fotheringay -and Singleton were standing on one foot and then the other, waiting for -Mr. Carvel to have done. Next arrived my aunt, in a wide calash and a -wider hoop, her stays laced so that she limped, and her hair wonderfully -and fearfully arranged by her Frenchman. Neither she nor Grafton was -slow to shower congratulations upon my grandfather and myself. Mr. -Marmaduke went through the ceremony after them. Dorothy's mother drew me -aside. As long as I could remember her face had been one that revealed a -life's disappointment. But to-day I thought it bore a trace of a deeper -anxiety. - -"How well I recall this day, eighteen years ago, Richard," she said. -"And how proud your dear mother was that she had given a son to Captain -Jack. She had prayed for a son. I hope you will always do your parents -credit, my dear boy. They were both dear, dear friends of mine." - -My Aunt Caroline's harsher voice interrupted her. - -"Gadzooks, ma'am!" she cried, as she approached us, "I have never in my -life laid eyes upon such beauty as your daughter's. You will have to -take her home, Mrs. Manners, to do her justice. You owe it her, ma'am. -Come, nephew, off with you, and head the minuet with Miss Dolly!" - -My grandfather was giving the word to the fiddlers. But whether a desire -to cross my aunt held me back, or a sense of duty to greet the guests not -already come, or a vague intuition of some impending news drawn from Mrs. -Manners and Dorothy, I know not. Mr. Fitzhugh was easily persuaded to -take my place, and presently I slipped unnoticed into a shaded seat on -the side of the upper terrace, whence I could see the changing figures on -the green. And I thought of the birthday festivals Dolly and I had spent -here, almost since we were of an age to walk. Wet June days, when the -broad wings of the house rang with the sound of silver laughter and -pattering feet, and echoed with music from the hall; and merry June days, -when the laughter rippled among the lilacs, and pansies and poppies and -sweet peas were outshone by bright gowns and brighter faces. And then, -as if to complete the picture of the past, my eye fell upon our mammies -modestly seated behind the group of older people, Aunt Hester and Aunt -Lucy, their honest, black faces aglow with such unselfish enjoyment as -they alone could feel. - -How easily I marked Dorothy among the throng! - -Other girls found it hard to compress the spirits of youth within the -dignity of a minuet, and thought of the childish romp of former years. -Not so my lady. Long afterwards I saw her lead a ball with the first -soldier and gentleman of the land, but on that Tuesday she carried -herself full as well, so well that his Excellency and the gentlemen about -him applauded heartily. As the strains died away and the couples moved -off among the privet-lined paths, I went slowly down the terrace. -Dorothy had come up to speak to her mother, Dr. Courtenay lingering -impatient at her side. And though her colour glowed deeper, and the wind -had loosed a wisp of her hair, she took his Excellency's compliments -undisturbed. Colonel Sharpe, our former governor, who now made his home -in the province, sat beside him. - -"Now where a-deuce were you, Richard?" said he. "You have missed as -pleasing a sight as comes to a man in a lifetime. Why were you not here -to see Miss Manners tread a minuet? My word! Terpsichore herself could -scarce have made it go better." - -"I saw the dance, sir, from a safe distance," I replied. - -"I'll warrant!" said he, laughing, while Dolly shot me a wayward glance -from under her long lashes. "I'll warrant your eyes were fast on her -from beginning to end. Come, sir, confess!" - -His big frame shook with the fun of it, for none in the colony could be -jollier than he on holiday occasions: and the group of ladies and -gentlemen beside him caught the infection, so that I was sore put to it. - -"Will your Excellency confess likewise?" I demanded. - -"So I will, Richard, and make patent to all the world that she hath the -remains of that shuttlecock, my heart." - -Up gets his Excellency (for so we still called him) and makes Dolly a low -reverence, kissing the tips of her white fingers. My lady drops a mock -curtsey in return. - -"Your Excellency can do no less than sue for a dance," drawled Dr. -Courtenay. - -"And no more, I fear, sir, not being so nimble as I once was. I resign -in your favour, doctor," said Colonel Sharpe. - -Dr. Courtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had -much to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been -governor of the province could command her. The music was just begun -again, and I making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was -brought up as suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips. - -"The dance belongs to Richard, doctor," she said. - -"Egad, Courtenay, there you have a buffer!" cried Colonel Sharpe, as the -much-discomfited doctor bowed with a very ill grace; while I, in no small -bewilderment, walked off with Dorothy. And a parting shot of the -delighted colonel brought the crimson to my face. Like the wind or April -weather was my lady, and her ways far beyond such a great simpleton as I. - -"So I am ever forced to ask you to dance!" said Dolly. - -"What were you about, moping off alone, with a party in your -honour, sir?" - -"I was watching you, as I told his Excellency." - -"Oh, fie!" she cried. "Why don't you assert yourself, Richard? There -was a time when you gave me no peace." - -"And then you rebuked me for dangling," I retorted. - -Up started the music, the fiddlers bending over their bows with flushed -faces, having dipped into the cool punch in the interval. Away flung my -lady to meet Singleton, while I swung Patty, who squeezed my hand in -return. And soon we were in the heat of it,--sober minuet no longer, but -romp and riot, the screams of the lasses a-mingle with our own laughter, -as we spun them until they were dizzy. My brain was a-whirl as well, and -presently I awoke to find Dolly pinching my arm. - -"Have you forgotten me, Richard?" she whispered. "My other hand, sir. -It is I down the middle." - -Down we flew between the laughing lines, Dolly tripping with her head -high, and then back under the clasped hands in the midst of a fire of -raillery. Then the music stopped. Some strange exhilaration was in -Dorothy. - -"Do you remember the place where I used to play fairy godmother, and wind -the flowers into my hair?" said she. - -What need to ask? - -"Come!" she commanded decisively. - -"With all my heart!" I exclaimed, wondering at this new caprice. - -"If we can but slip away unnoticed, they will never find us there," she -said. And led the way herself, silent. At length we came to the damp -shade where the brook dived under the corner of the wall. I stooped to -gather the lilies of the valley, and she wove them into her hair as of -old. Suddenly she stopped, the bunch poised in her hand. - -"Would you miss me if I went away, Richard?" she asked, in a low voice. - -"What do you mean, Dolly?" I cried, my voice failing. Just that," said -she. - -"I would miss you, and sorely, tho' you give me trouble enough." - -"Soon I shall not be here to trouble you, Richard. Papa has decided that -we sail next week, on the Annapolis, for home." - -"Home!" I gasped. "England?" - -"I am going to make my bow to royalty," replied she, dropping a deep -curtsey. "Your Majesty, this is Miss Manners, of the province of -Maryland!" - -"But next week!" I repeated, with a blank face. "Surely you cannot be -ready for the Annapolis!" - -"McAndrews has instructions to send our things after," said she. "There! -You are the first person I have told. You should feel honoured, sir." - -I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap of -life seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. -Through the trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness -far away. When I looked up again, she was gazing into the water. - -"Are you glad to go?" I asked. - -"Of course," answered the minx, readily. "I shall see the world, and -meet people of consequence." - -"So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!" I cried -bitterly. - -"How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we -here? The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth! -There is not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and -Virginia is scarce better provided." - -"In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that -she had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself. - -"All in good time," said I. "We shall have no lack of noted men -presently." - -"Mere two-penny heroes," she retorted. "I know your great men, such as -Mr. Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams." - -I began pulling up the grass savagely by the roots. - -"I'll lay a hundred guineas you have no regrets at leaving any of us, my -fine miss!" I cried, getting to my feet. "You would rather be a lady of -fashion than have the love of an honest man,--you who have the hearts of -too many as it is." - -Her eyes lighted, but with mirth. Laughing, she chose a little bunch of -the lilies and worked them into my coat. - -"Richard, you silly goose!" she said; "I dote upon seeing you in a -temper." - -I stood between anger and God knows what other feelings, now starting -away, now coming back to her. But I always came back. - -"You have ever said you would marry an earl, Dolly," I said sadly. -"I believe you do not care for any of us one little bit." - -She turned away, so that for the moment I could not see her face, then -looked at me with exquisite archness over her shoulder. The low tones of -her voice were of a richness indescribable. 'Twas seldom she made use of -them. - -"You will be coming to Oxford, Richard." - -"I fear not, Dolly," I replied soberly. "I fear not, now. Mr. Carvel is -too feeble for me to leave him." - -At that she turned to me, another mood coming like a gust of wind on the -Chesapeake. - -"Oh, how I wish they were all like you!" she cried, with a stamp of her -foot. "Sometimes I despise gallantry. I hate the smooth compliments of -your macaronies. I thank Heaven you are big and honest and clumsy and--" - -"And what, Dorothy?" I asked, bewildered. - -"And stupid," said she. "Now take me back, sir." - -We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice singing: - - "'It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino.'" - -And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. - - -And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why -not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me -pacing the deserted dock. At my back, across the open space, was the -irregular line of quaint, top-heavy shops since passed away, their -sightless windows barred by solid shutters of oak. The good ship -Annapolis, which was to carry my playmate to broader scenes, lay among -the shipping, in the gray roads just quickening with returning light. -How my heart ached that morning none shall ever know. But, as the sun -shot a burning line across the water, a new salt breeze sprang up and -fanned a hope into flame. 'Twas the very breeze that was to blow Dorothy -down the bay. Sleepy apprentices took down the shutters, and polished -the windows until they shone again; and chipper Mr. Denton Jacques, who -did such a thriving business opposite, presently appeared to wish me a -bright good morning. - -I knew that Captain Waring proposed to sail at ten of the clock; but -after breakfasting, I was of two minds whether to see the last of Miss -Dorothy, foreseeing a levee in her honour upon the ship. And so it -proved. I had scarce set out in a pungy from the dock, when I perceived -a dozen boats about the packet; and when I thrust my shoulders through -the gangway, there was the company gathered at the mainmast. They made a -gay bit of colour,--Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine -Mechlin, Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the -other gentlemen as smartly drest. The Dulany girls and the Fotheringay -girls, and I know not how many others, were there to see their friend off -for home. - -In the midst of them was Dorothy, in a crimson silk capuchin, for we had -had one of our changes of weather. It was she who spied me as I was -drawing down the ladder again. - -"It is Richard!" I heard her cry. "He has come at last." - -I gripped the rope tightly, sprang to the deck, and faced her as she came -out of the group, her lips parted, and the red of her cheeks vying with -the hood she wore. I took her hand silently. - -"I had given you over, Richard," she said, her eyes looking reproachfully -into mine. "Another ten minutes, and I should not have seen you." - -Indeed, the topsails were already off the caps, the captain on deck, and -the men gathered at the capstan. - -"Have you not enough to wish you good-by, Dolly?" I asked. - -"There must be a score of them," said my lady, making a face. "But I -wish to talk to you." - -Mr. Marmaduke, however, had no notion of allowing a gathering in his -daughter's honour to be broken up. It had been wickedly said of him, -when the news of his coming departure got around, that he feared Dorothy -would fall in love with some provincial beau before he could get her -within reach of a title. When he observed me talking to her, he hurried -away from the friends come to see his wife (he had none himself), and -seizing me by the arm implored me to take good care of my dear -grandfather, and to write them occasionally of the state of his health, -and likewise how I fared. - -"I think Dorothy will miss you more than any of them, Richard," said he. -"Will you not, my dear?" - -But she was gone. I, too, left him without ceremony, to speak to Mrs. -Manners, who was standing apart, looking shoreward. She started when I -spoke, and I saw that tears were in her eyes. - -"Are you coming back soon, Mrs. Manners?" I asked. - -"Oh, Richard! I don't know," she answered, with a little choke in her -voice. "I hope it will be no longer than a year, for we are leaving all -we hold dear for a very doubtful pleasure." - -She bade me write to them, as Mr. Marmaduke had, only she was sincere. -Then the mate came, with his hand to his cap, respectfully to inform -visitors that the anchor was up and down. Albeit my spirits were low, -'twas no small entertainment to watch the doctor and his rivals at their -adieus. Courtenay had at his command an hundred subterfuges to outwit -his fellows, and so manoeuvred that he was the last of them over the -side. As for me, luckily, I was not worth a thought. But as the doctor -leaned over her hand, I vowed in my heart that if Dorothy was to be -gained only in such a way I would not stoop to it. And in my heart I -doubted it. I heard Dr. Courtenay hint, looking meaningly at her cloak, -that some of his flowers would not have appeared amiss there. - -"Why, doctor," says my lady aloud, with a side glance at me, "the wisdom -of Solomon might not choose out of twenty baskets." - -And this was all the thanks he got for near a boat-load of roses! When -at length the impatient mate had hurried him off, Dolly turned to me. It -was not in me to say more than: - -"Good-by, Dorothy. And do not forget your old playmate. He will never -forget you." - -We stood within the gangway. With a quick movement she threw open her -cloak, and pinned to her gown I saw a faded bunch of lilies of the -valley. - -I had but the time to press her hand. The boatswain's pipe whistled, and -the big ship was already sliding in the water as I leaped into my pungy, -which Hugo was holding to the ladder. We pulled off to where the others -waited. - -But the Annapolis sailed away down the bay, and never another glimpse we -caught of my lady. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY - -If perchance, my dears, there creeps into this chronicle too much of an -old man's heart, I know he will be forgiven. What life ever worth living -has been without its tender attachment? Because, forsooth, my hair is -white now, does Bess flatter herself I do not know her secret? Or does -Comyn believe that these old eyes can see no farther than the spectacles -before them? Were it not for the lovers, my son, satins and broadcloths -had never been invented. And were it not for the lovers, what joys and -sorrows would we lack in our lives! - -That was a long summer indeed. And tho' Wilmot House was closed, I often -rode over of a morning when the dew was on the grass. It cheered me to -smoke a pipe with old McAndrews, Mr. Manners's factor, who loved to talk -of Miss Dorothy near as much as I. He had served her grandfather, and -people said that had it not been for McAndrews, the Manners fortune had -long since been scattered, since Mr. Marmaduke knew nothing of anything -that he should. I could not hear from my lady until near the first of -October, and so I was fain to be content with memories--memories and hard -work. For I had complete charge of the plantation now. - -My Uncle Grafton came twice or thrice, but without his family, Aunt -Caroline and Philip having declared their independence. My uncle's -manner to me was now of studied kindness, and he was at greater pains -than before to give me no excuse for offence. I had little to say to -him. He spent his visits reading to Mr. Carvel, who sat in his chair all -the day long. Mr. Allen came likewise, to perform the same office. - -My contempt for the rector was grown more than ever. On my grandfather's -account, however, I refrained from quarrelling with him. And, when we -were alone, my plain speaking did not seem to anger him, or affect him in -any way. Others came, too. Such was the affection Mr. Carvel's friends -bore him that they did not desert him when he was no longer the companion -he had been in former years. We had more company than the summer before. - -In the autumn a strange thing happened. When we had taken my grandfather -to the Hall in June, his dotage seemed to settle upon him. He became a -trembling old man, at times so peevish that we were obliged to summon -with an effort what he had been. He was suspicious and fault-finding -with Scipio and the other servants, though they were never so busy for -his wants. Mrs. Willis's dainties were often untouched, and he would -frequently sit for hours between slumber and waking, or mumble to himself -as I read the prints. But about the time of the equinoctial a great gale -came out of the south so strongly that the water rose in the river over -the boat landing; and the roof was torn from one of the curing-sheds. -The next morning dawned clear, and brittle, and blue. To my great -surprise, Mr. Carvel sent for me to walk with him about the place, that -he might see the damage with his own eyes. A huge walnut had fallen -across the drive, and when he came upon it he stopped abruptly. - -"Old friend!" he cried, "have you succumbed? After all these years have -you dropped from the weight of a blow? "He passed his hand caressingly -along the trunk, and scarce ever had I seen him so affected. In truth, -for the instant I thought him deranged. He raised his cane above his -shoulder and struck the bark so heavily that the silver head sunk deep -into the wood. "Look you, Richard," he said, the water coming into his -eyes, "look you, the heart of it is gone, lad; and when the heart is -rotten 'tis time for us to go. That walnut was a life friend, my son. -We have grown together," he continued, turning from me to the giant and -brushing his cheeks, "but by God's good will we shall not die so, for my -heart is still as young as the days when you were sprouting." - -And he walked back to the house more briskly than he had come, refusing, -for the first time, my arm. And from that day, I say, he began to mend. -The lacing of red came again to his cheeks, and before we went back to -town he had walked with me to Master Dingley's tavern on the highroad, -and back. - -We moved into Marlboro' Street the first part of November. I had seen my -lady off for England, wearing my faded flowers, the panniers of the fine -gentleman in a neglected pile at her cabin door. But not once had she -deigned to write me. It was McAndrews who told me of her safe arrival. -In Annapolis rumours were a-flying of conquests she had already made. I -found Betty Tayloe had had a letter, filled with the fashion in caps and -gowns, and the mention of more than one noble name. All of this being, -for unknown reasons, sacred, I was read only part of the postscript, in -which I figured: "The London Season was done almost before we arrived," -so it ran. "We had but the Opportunity to pay our Humble Respects to -their Majesties; and appear at a few Drum-Majors and Garden Fetes. Now -we are off to Brighthelmstone, and thence, so Papa says, to Spa and the -Continent until the end of January. I am pining for news of Maryland, -dearest Betty. Address me in care of Mr. Ripley, Barrister, of Lincoln's -Inn, and bid Richard Carvel write me." - -"Which does not look as if she were coming back within the year," said -Betty, as she poured me a dish of tea. - -Alas, no! But I did not write. I tried and failed. And then I tried to -forget. I was constant at all the gayeties, gave every miss in town a -share of my attention, rode to hounds once a week at Whitehall or the -South River Club with a dozen young beauties. But cantering through the -winter mists 'twas Dolly, in her red riding-cloak and white beaver, I saw -beside me. None of them had her seat in the saddle, and none of them her -light hand on the reins. And tho' they lacked not fire and skill, they -had not my lady's dash and daring to follow over field and fallow, stream -and searing, and be in at the death with heightened colour, but never a -look away. - -Then came the first assembly of the year. I got back from Bentley Manor, -where I had been a-visiting the Fotheringays, just in time to call for -Patty in Gloucester Street. - -"Have you heard the news from abroad, Richard?" she asked, as I handed -her into my chariot. - -"Never a line," I replied. - -"Pho!" exclaimed Patty; "you tell me that! Where have you been hiding? -Then you shall not have it from me." - -I had little trouble, however, in persuading her. For news was a rare -luxury in those days, and Patty was plainly uncomfortable until she -should have it out. - -"I would not give you the vapours to-night for all the world, Richard," -she exclaimed. "But if you must,--Dr. Courtenay has had a letter from -Mr. Manners, who says that Dolly is to marry his Grace of Chartersea. -There now!" - -"And I am not greatly disturbed," I answered, with a fine, careless air. - -The lanthorn on the chariot was burning bright. And I saw Patty look at -me, and laugh. - -"Indeed!" says she; "what a sex is that to which you belong. How ready -are men to deny us at the first whisper! And I thought you the most -constant of all. For my part, I credit not a word of it. 'Tis one of -Mr. Marmaduke's lies and vanities." - -"And for my part, I think it true as gospel," I cried. "Dolly always -held a coronet above her colony, and all her life has dreamed of a duke." - -"Nay," answered Patty, more soberly; "nay, you do her wrong. You will -discover one day that she is loyal to the core, tho' she has a fop of a -father who would serve his Grace's chocolate. We are all apt to talk, -my dear, and to say what we do not mean, as you are doing." - -"Were I to die to-morrow, I would repeat it," I exclaimed. But I liked -Patty the better for what she had said. - -"And there is more news, of less import," she continued, as I was silent. -"The Thunderer dropped anchor in the roads to-day, and her officers will -be at the assembly. And Betty tells me there is a young lord among -them,--la! I have clean forgot the string of adjectives she used,--but -she would have had me know he was as handsome as Apollo, and so dashing -and diverting as to put Courtenay and all our wits to shame. She dined -with him at the Governor's." - -I barely heard her, tho' I had seen the man-o'-war in the harbour as I -sailed in that afternoon. - -The assembly hall was filled when we arrived, aglow with candles and a- -tremble with music, the powder already flying, and the tables in the -recesses at either end surrounded by those at the cards. A lively scene, -those dances at the old Stadt House, but one I love best to recall with a -presence that endeared it to me. The ladies in flowered aprons and caps -and brocades and trains, and the gentlemen in brilliant coats, trimmed -with lace and stiffened with buckram. That night, as Patty had -predicted, there was a smart sprinkling of uniforms from the Thunderer. -One of those officers held my eye. He was as well-formed a lad, or man -(for he was both), as it had ever been my lot to see. He was neither -tall nor short, but of a good breadth. His fair skin was tanned by the -weather, and he wore his own wavy hair powdered, as was just become the -fashion, and tied with a ribbon behind. - -"Mercy, Richard, that must be his Lordship. Why, his good looks are all -Betty claimed for them!" exclaimed Patty. Mr. Lloyd, who was standing -by, overheard her, and was vastly amused at her downright way. - -"I will fetch him directly, Miss Swain," said he, "as I have done for a -dozen ladies before you." And fetch him he did. - -"Miss Swain, this is my Lord Comyn," said he. "Your Lordship, one of the -boasts of our province." - -Patty grew red as the scarlet with which his Lordship's coat was lined. -She curtseyed, while he made a profound bow. - -"What! Another boast, Mr. Lloyd!" he cried. "Miss Swain is the tenth -I have met. But I vow they excel as they proceed." - -"Then you must meet no more, my Lord," said Patty, laughing at Mr. -Lloyd's predicament. - -"Egad, then, I will not," declared Comyn. "I protest I am satisfied." - -Then I was presented. He had won me on the instant with his open smile -and frank, boyish manner. - -"And this is young Mr. Carvel, whom I hear wins every hunt in the -colony?" said he. - -"I fear you have been misinformed, my Lord," I replied, flashing with -pleasure nevertheless. - -"Nay, my Lord," Mr. Lloyd struck in; "Richard could ride down the devil -himself, and he were a fox. You will see for yourself to-morrow." - -"I pray we may not start the devil," said his Lordship; "or I shall be -content to let Mr. Carvel run him down." - -This Comyn was a man after my own fancy, as, indeed, he took the fancy -of every one at the ball. Though a viscount in his own right, he gave -himself not half the airs over us provincials as did many of his -messmates. Even Mr. Jacques, who was sour as last year's cider over the -doings of Parliament, lost his heart, and asked why we were not favoured -in America with more of his sort. - -By a great mischance Lord Comyn had fallen into the tender clutches of my -Aunt Caroline. It seemed she had known his uncle, the Honourable Arthur -Comyn, in New York; and now she undertook to be responsible for his -Lordship's pleasure at Annapolis, that he might meet only those of the -first fashion. Seeing him talking to Patty, my aunt rose abruptly from -her loo and made toward us, all paint and powder and patches, her chin in -the air, which barely enabled her to look over Miss Swain's head. - -"My Lord," she cries, "I will show you our colonial reel, which is about -to begin, and I warrant you is gayer than any dance you have at home." - -"Your very devoted, Mrs. Carvel," says his Lordship, with a bow, "but -Miss Swain has done me the honour." - -"O Lud!" cries my aunt, sweeping the room, "I vow I cannot keep pace with -the misses nowadays. Is she here?" - -"She was but a moment since, ma'am," replied Comyn, instantly, with a -mischievous look at me, while poor Patty stood blushing not a yard -distant. - -There were many who overheard, and who used their fans and their napkins -to hide their laughter at the very just snub Mrs. Grafton had received. -And I wondered at the readiness with which he had read her character, -liking him all the better. But my aunt was not to be disabled by this,-- -not she. After the dance she got hold of him, keeping him until certain -designing ladies with daughters took him away; their names charity -forbids me to mention. But in spite of them all he contrived to get -Patty for supper, when I took Betty Tayloe, and we were very merry at -table together. His Lordship proved more than able to take care of -himself, and contrived to send Philip about his business when he pulled -up a chair beside us. He drank a health to Miss Swain, and another to -Miss Tayloe, and was on the point of filling a third glass to the ladies -of Maryland, when he caught himself and brought his hand down on the -table. - -"Gad's life!" cried he, "but I think she's from Maryland, too!" - -"Who?" demanded the young ladies, in a breath. - -But I knew. - -"Who!" exclaimed Comyn. "Who but Miss Dorothy Manners! Isn't she from -Maryland? "And marking our astonished nods, he continued: "Why, she -descended upon Mayfair when they were so weary for something to worship, -and they went mad over her in a s'ennight. I give you Miss Manners!" - -"And you know her!" exclaimed Patty, her voice quivering with excitement. - -"Faith!" said his Lordship, laughing. "For a whole month I was her most -devoted, as were we all at Almack's. I stayed until the last minute for -a word with her,--which I never got, by the way,--and paid near a guinea -a mile for a chaise to Portsmouth as a consequence. Already she has had -her choice from a thousand a year up, and I tell you our English ladies -are green with envy." - -I was stunned, you may be sure. And yet, I might have expected it. - -"If your Lordship has left your heart in England," said Betty, with a -smile," I give you warning you must not tell our ladies here of it." - -"I care not who knows it, Miss Tayloe," he cried. That fustian, -insincerity, was certainly not one of his faults. "I care not who knows -it. To pass her chariot is to have your heart stolen, and you must needs -run after and beg mercy. But, ladies," he added, his eye twinkling; -"having seen the women of your colony, I marvel no longer at Miss -Manners's beauty." - -He set us all a-laughing. - -"I fear you were not born a diplomat, sir," says Patty. "You agree that -we are beautiful, yet to hear that one of us is more so is small -consolation." - -"We men turn as naturally to Miss Manners as plants to the sun, ma'am," -he replied impulsively. "Yet none of us dare hope for alliance with so -brilliant and distant an object. I make small doubt those are Mr. -Carvel's sentiments, and still he seems popular enough with the ladies. -How now, sir? How now, Mr. Carvel? You have yet to speak on so tender -a subject." - -My eyes met Patty's. - -"I will be no more politic than you, my Lord," I said boldly, "nor will -I make a secret of it that I adore Miss Manners full as much." - -"Bravo, Richard!" cries Patty; and "Good!" cries his Lordship, while -Betty claps her hands. And then Comyn swung suddenly round in his chair. - -"Richard Carvel!" says he. "By the seven chimes I have heard her mention -your name. The devil fetch my memory!" - -"My name!" I exclaimed, in surprise, and prodigiously upset. - -"Yes," he answered, with his hand to his head; "some such thought was in -my mind this afternoon when I heard of your riding. Stay! I have it! I -was at Ampthill, Ossory's place, just before I left. Some insupportable -coxcomb was boasting a marvellous run with the hounds nigh across -Hertfordshire, and Miss Manners brought him up with a round turn and a -half hitch by relating one of your exploits, Richard Carvel. And take my -word on't she got no small applause. She told how you had followed a -fox over one of your rough provincial counties, which means three of -Hertfordshire, with your arm broken, by Heaven! and how they lifted you -off at the death. And, Mr. Carvel," said my Lord, generously, looking at -my flushed face, "you must give me your hand for that." - -So Dorothy in England had thought of me at least. But what booted it if -she were to marry a duke! My thoughts began to whirl over all Comyn had -said of her so that I scarce heard a question Miss Tayloe had put. - -"Marry Chartersea! That profligate pig!" Comyn was saying. "She would -as soon marry a chairman or a chimneysweep, I'm thinking. Why, Miss -Tayloe, Sir Charles Grandison himself would scarce suit her!" - -"Good lack!" said Betty, "I think Sir Charles would be the very last for -Dorothy." - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - -Volume 3. - - -XIII. Mr. Allen shows his Hand -XIV. The Volte Coupe -XV. Of which the Rector has the Worst -XVI. In which Some Things are made Clear -XVII. South River -XVIII. The Black Moll -XIX. A Man of Destiny - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -MR. ALLEN SHOWS HIS HAND - -So Dorothy's beauty had taken London by storm, even as it had conquered -Annapolis! However, 'twas small consolation to me to hear his Grace of -Chartersea called a pig and a profligate while better men danced her -attendance in Mayfair. Nor, in spite of what his Lordship had said, was -I quite easy on the score of the duke. It was in truth no small honour -to become a duchess. If Mr. Marmaduke had aught to say, there was an end -to hope. She would have her coronet. But in that hour of darkness I -counted upon my lady's spirit. - -Dr. Courtenay came to the assembly very late, with a new fashion -of pinchbeck buckles on his pumps and a new manner of taking snuff. -(I caught Fotheringay practising this by the stairs shortly after.) -Always an important man, the doctor's prominence had been increased that -day by the letter he had received. He was too thorough a courtier to -profess any grief over Miss Manners's match, and went about avowing that -he had always predicted a duke for Miss Dorothy. And he drew a deal of -pleasure from the curiosity of those who begged but one look at the -letter. Show it, indeed! For no consideration. A private communication -from one gentleman to another must be respected. Will Fotheringay swore -the doctor was a sly dog, and had his own reasons for keeping it to -himself. - -The doctor paid his compliment to the captain of the Thunderer, and to -his Lordship; hoped that he would see them at the meet on the morrow, -tho' his gout forbade his riding to hounds. He saluted me in the most -friendly way, for I played billiards with him at the Coffee House now, -and he won my money. He had pronounced my phaeton to be as well -appointed as any equipage in town, and had done me the honour to -drive out with me on several occasions. It was Betty that brought -him humiliation that evening. - -"What do you think of the soar our Pandora hath taken, Miss Betty?" -says he. "From a Maryland manor to a ducal palace. 'Tis a fable, egad! -No less!" - -"Indeed, I think it is," retorted Betty. "Mark me, doctor, Dorothy will -not put up an instant with a roue and a brute." - -"A roue!" cries he, "and a brute! What the plague, Miss Tayloe! -I vow I do not understand you." - -"Then ask my Lord Comyn, who knows your Duke of Chartersea," said Betty. - -Dr. Courtenay's expression was worth a pistole. - -"Comyn know him!" he repeated. - -"That he does," replied Betty, laughing. "His Lordship says Chartersea -is a pig and a profligate, and I remember not what else. And that Dolly -will not look at him. And so little Mr. Marmaduke may go a-hunting for -another title." - -No wonder I had little desire for dancing that night! I wandered out of -the assembly-room and through the silent corridors of the Stadt House, -turning over and over again what I had heard, and picturing Dorothy -reigning over the macaronies of St. James's Street. She had said nothing -of this in her letter to Betty, and had asked me to write to her. But -now, with a duke to refuse or accept, could she care to hear from her old -playmate? I took no thought of the time, until suddenly my conscience -told me I had neglected Patty. - -As I entered the hall I saw her at the far end of it talking to Mr. -Allen. This I thought strange, for I knew she disliked him. Lord Comyn -and Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Singleton, were standing by, -listening. By the time I was halfway across to them the rector turned -away. I remember thinking afterwards that he changed colour when he -said: "Your servant, Mr. Richard." But I thought nothing of it at the -time, and went on to Patty. - -"I have come for a country dance, before we go, Patty," I said. - -Then something in her mien struck me. Her eyes expressed a pain I had -remarked in them before only when she spoke to me of Tom, and her lips -were closed tightly. She flushed, and paled, and looked from Singleton -to Mr. Carroll. They and his Lordship remained silent. - -"I--I cannot, Richard. I am going home," she said, in a low voice. - -"I will see if the chariot is here," I answered, surprised, but thinking -of Tom. - -She stopped me. - -"I am going with Mr. Carroll," she said. - -I hope a Carvel never has to be rebuffed twice, nor to be humbled by -craving an explanation before a company. I was confounded that Patty -should treat me thus, when I had done nothing to deserve it. As I made -for the door, burning and indignant, I felt as tho' every eye in the room -was upon me.' Young Harvey drove me that night. - -"Marlboro' Street, Mr. Richard?" said he. - -"Coffee House," replied I, that place coming first into my head. - -Young Harvey seldom took liberties; but he looked down from the box. - -"Better home, sir; your pardon, sir." - -"D--n it!" I cried, "drive where I bid you!" - -I pulled down the fore-glass, though the night was cold, and began to -cast about for the cause of Patty's action. And then it was the rector -came to my mind. Yes, he had been with her just before I came up, and I -made sure on the instant that my worthy instructor was responsible for -the trouble. I remembered that I had quarrelled with him the morning -before I had gone to Bentley Manor, and threatened to confess his villany -and my deceit to Mr. Carvel. He had answered me with a sneer and a dare. -I knew than Patty put honour and honesty before all else in the world, -and that she would not have suffered my friendship for a day had she -believed me to lack either. But she, who knew me so well, was not likely -to believe anything he might say without giving me the chance to clear -myself. And what could he have told her? - -I felt my anger growing big within me, until I grew afraid of what I -would do if I were tempted. I had a long score and a heavy score against -this rector of St. Anne's,--a score that had been gathering these years. -And I felt that my uncle was somewhere behind him; that the two of them -were plotters against me, even as Harvey had declared; albeit my Uncle -Grafton was little seen in his company now. And finally, in a sinister -flash of revelation, came the thought that Grafton himself was at the -back of this deception of my grandfather, as to my principles. Fool that -I was, it had never occurred to me before. But how was he to gain by it? -Did he hope that Mr. Carvel, in a fit of anger, would disinherit me when -he found I had deceived him? Yes. And so had left the matter in -abeyance near these two years, that the shock might be the greater when -it came. I recalled now, with a shudder, that never since the spring of -my grandfather's illness had my uncle questioned me upon my politics. -I was seized with a fit of fury. I suspected that Mr. Allen would be -at the Coffee House after the assembly. And I determined to seize the -chance at once and have it out with him then and there. - -The inn was ablaze, but as yet deserted; Mr. Claude expectant. He bowed -me from my chariot door, and would know what took me from the ball. I -threw him some short answer, bade Harvey go home, saying that I would -have some fellow light me to Marlboro' Street when I thought proper. And -coming into the long room I flung aside my greatcoat and commanded a -flask of Mr. Stephen Bordley's old sherry, some of which Mr. Claude had -obtained at that bachelor's demise. - -The wine was scarce opened before I heard some sort of stir at the front, -and two servants in a riding livery of scarlet and white hurried in to -seek Mr. Claude. The sight of them sufficed mine host, for he went out -as fast as his legs would go, giving the bell a sharp pull as he passed -the door; and presently I heard him complimenting two gentlemen into -the house. The voice of one I knew,--being no other than Captain -Clapsaddle's; and him I had not seen for the past six months. I was -just risen to my feet when they came in at the door beside me. - -"Richard!" cried the captain, and grasped my hand in both his own. -I returned his pressure, too much pleased to speak. Then his eye was -caught by my finery. - -"So ho!" says he, shaking his head at me for a sad rogue. "Wine and -women and fine clothes, and not nineteen, or I mistake me. It was so -with Captain Jack, who blossomed in a week; and few could vie with him, -I warrant you, after he made his decision. But bless me!" he went on, -drawing back, "the lad looks mature, and a fair two inches broader than -last spring. But why are you not at the assembly, Richard?" - -"I have but now come from there, sir," I replied, not caring in the -presence of a stranger to enter into reasons. - -At my answer the captain turned from me to the gentleman behind him, who -had been regarding us both as we talked. There are some few men in the -world, I thank God for it, who bear their value on their countenance; who -stand unmistakably for qualities which command respect and admiration and -love! We seem to recognize such men, and to wonder where we have seen -them before. In reality we recognize the virtues they represent. So it -was with him I saw in front of me, and by his air and carriage I marked -him then and there as a man born to great things. You all know his face, -my dears, and I pray God it may live in the sight of those who come after -you, for generation upon generation! - -"Colonel Washington," said the captain, "this is Mr. Richard Carvel, the -son of Captain Carvel." - -Mr. Washington did not speak at once. He stood regarding me a full -minute, his eye seeming to penetrate the secrets of my life. And I take -pride in saying it was an eye I could meet without flinching. - -"Your father was a brave man, sir," he said soberly, "and it seems you -favour him. I am happy in knowing the son." - -For a moment he stood debating whether he would go to the house of one of -his many friends in Annapolis, knowing that they would be offended when -they learned he had stopped at the inn. He often came to town, indeed, -but seldom tarried long; and it had never been my fortune to see him. -Being arrived unexpectedly, and obliged to be away early on the morrow, -he decided to order rooms of Mr. Claude, sat down with me at the table, -and commenced supper. They had ridden from Alexandria. I gathered from -their conversation that they were on their way to Philadelphia upon -some private business, the nature of which, knowing Captain Daniel's -sentiments and those of Colonel Washington, I went not far to guess. -The country was in a stir about the Townshend duties; and there being -some rumour that all these were to be discharged save only that on tea, -anxiety prevailed in our middle colonies that the merchants of New York -would abandon the association formed and begin importation. It was of -some mission to these merchants that I suspected them. - -As I sat beside Colonel Washington, I found myself growing calmer, and -ashamed of my lack of self-control. Unconsciously, when we come in -contact with the great of character, we mould our minds to their -qualities. His very person seemed to exhale, not sanctity, but virility. -I felt that this man could command himself and others. In his presence -self-command came to me, as a virtue gone out of him. 'Twas not his -speech, I would have you know, that took hold of me. He was by no means -a brilliant talker, and I had the good fortune to see him at his ease, -since he and the captain were old friends. As they argued upon the -questions of the day, the colonel did not seek to impress by words, -or to fascinate by manner. His opinions were calm and moderate, -and appeared to me so just as to admit of no appeal. He scrupled not -to use a forceful word when occasion demanded. And yet, now and then, -he had a lively way about him with all his dignity. When he had finished -his supper he bade Mr. Claude bring another bottle of Mr. Bordley's -sherry, having tested mine, and addressed himself to me. - -He would know what my pursuits had been; for my father's sake, what were -my ambitions? He questioned me about Mr. Carvel's plantation, of which -he had heard, and appeared pleased with the answers I gave as to its -management and methods. Captain Daniel was no less so. Mr. Washington -had agriculture at his finger ends, and gave me some advice which he had -found serviceable at Mount Vernon. - -"'Tis a pity, Richard," said he, smiling thoughtfully at the captain, -"'tis a pity we have no service afield open to our young men. One of -your spirit and bearing should be of that profession. Captain Jack was -as brave and dashing an officer as I ever laid eyes on." - -I hesitated, the tingling at the compliment. - -"I begin to think I was born for the sea, sir," I answered, at length. - -"What!" cried the captain; "what news is this, Richard? 'Slife! how has -this come about?" - -My anger subdued by Mr. Washington's presence, a curious mood had taken -its place. A foolish mood, I thought it, but one of feeling things to -come. - -"I believe I shall one day take part in a great sea-fight," I said. -And, tho' ashamed to speak of it, I told him of Stanwix's prophecy -that I should pace the decks of a man-o'-war. - -"A pox on Stanwix!" said the captain, "an artful old seadog! I never -yet knew one who did not think the sun rises and sets from poop to -forecastle, who did not wheedle with all the young blood to get them -to follow a bow-legged profession." - -Colonel Washington laughed. - -"Judge not, Clapsaddle," said he; "here are two of us trying to get the -lad for our own bow-legged profession. We are as hot as Methodists to -convert." - -"Small conversion he needed when I was here to watch him, colonel. And -he rides with any trooper I ever laid eyes on. Why, sir, I myself threw -him on a saddle before he could well-nigh walk, and 'twere a waste of -material to put him in the navy." - -"But what this old man said of a flag not yet seen in heaven or earth -interests me," said Colonel Washington. "Tell me," he added with a -penetration we both remarked, "tell me, does your Captain Stanwix follow -the times? Is he a man to read his prints and pamphlets? In other -words, is he a man who might predict out of his own heated imagination?" - -"Nay, sir," I answered, "he nods over his tobacco the day long. And I -will make bold to swear, he has never heard of the Stamp Act." - -"'Tis strange," said the colonel, musing; "I have heard of this second -sight--have seen it among my own negroes. But I heartily pray that this -may be but the childish fancy of an old mariner. How do you interpret -it, sir?" he added, addressing himself to me. - -"If a prophecy, I can interpret it in but one way," I began, and there I -stopped. - -"To be sure," said Mr. Washington. He studied me awhile as though -weighing my judgment, and went on: "Needless to say, Richard, that such a -service, if it comes, will not be that of his Majesty." - -"And it were, colonel, I would not embark in it a step," I cried. - -He laughed. - -"The lad has his father's impulse," he said to Captain Daniel. -"But I thought old Mr. Carvel to be one of the warmest loyalists -in the colonies." - -I bit my lip; for, since that unhappy deception of Mr. Carvel, I had not -meant to be drawn into an avowal of my sentiments. But I had, alas, -inherited a hasty tongue. - -"Mr. Washington," said the captain, "old Mr. Carvel has ever been a good -friend to me. And, though I could not but perceive which way the lad was -tending, I had held it but a poor return for friendship had I sought by -word or deed to bring him to my way of thinking. Nor have I ever -suffered his views in my presence." - -"My dear sir, I honour you for it," put in the colonel, warmly. - -"It is naught to my credit," returned the captain. "I would not, for the -sake of my party and beliefs, embitter what remains of my old friend's -life." - -I drew a long breath and drained the full glass before me. - -"Captain Daniel!" I cried, "you must hear me now. I have been waiting -your coming these months. And if Colonel Washington gives me leave, -I will speak before him." - -The colonel bade me proceed, avowing that Captain Carvel's son should -have his best assistance. - -With that I told them the whole story of Mr. Allen's villany. How I had -been sent to him because of my Whig sentiments, and for thrashing a Tory -schoolmaster and his flock. This made the gentlemen laugh, tho' Captain -Daniel had heard it before. I went on to explain how Mr. Carvel had -fallen ill, and was like to die; and how Mr. Allen, taking advantage of -his weakness when he rose from his bed, had gone to him with the lie of -having converted me. But when I told of the scene between my grandfather -and me at Carvel Hall, of the tears of joy that the old gentleman shed, -and of how he had given me Firefly as a reward, the captain rose from his -chair and looked out of the window into the blackness, and swore a great -oath all to himself. And the expression I saw come into the colonel's -eyes I shall never forget. - -"And you feared the consequences upon your grandfather's health?" he -asked gravely. - -"So help me God!" I answered, "I truly believe that to have undeceived -him would have proved fatal." - -"And so, for the sake of the sum he receives for teaching you," cried the -captain, with another oath, "this scoundrelly clergyman has betrayed you -into a lie. A scheme, by God's life! worthy of a Machiavelli!" - -"I have seen too many of his type in our parishes," said Mr. Washington; -"and yet the bishop of London seems powerless. And so used have we -become in these Southern colonies to tippling and gaming parsons, -that I warrant his people accept him as nothing out of the common." - -"He is more discreet than the run of them, sir. His parishioners dislike -him, not because of his irregularities, but because he is attempting to -obtain All Saints from his Lordship, in addition to St. Anne's. He is -thought too greedy." - -He was silent, his brow a little furrowed, and drummed with his fingers -upon the table. - -"But this I cannot reconcile," said he, presently, "that the reward is -out of all proportion to the risk. Such a clever rascal must play for -higher stakes." - -I was amazed at his insight. And for the moment was impelled to make -a clean breast of my suspicions,--nay, of my convictions of the whole -devil's plot. But I had no proofs. I remembered that to the colonel -my uncle was a gentleman of respectability and of wealth, and a member -of his Excellency's Council. That to accuse him of scheming for my -inheritance would gain me nothing in Mr. Washington's esteem. And I -caught myself before I had said aught of Mr. Allen's conduct that -evening. - -"Have you confronted this rector with his perfidy, Richard?" he asked. - -"I have, colonel, at my first opportunity." And I related how Mr. Allen -had come to the Hall, and what I had said to him, and how he had behaved. -And finally told of the picquet we now had during lessons, not caring to -shield myself. Both listened intently, until the captain broke out. -Mr. Washington's indignation was the stronger for being repressed. - -"I will call him out!" cried Captain Daniel, fingering his sword, as was -his wont when angered; "I will call him out despite his gown, or else -horse him publicly!" - -"No, my dear sir, you will do nothing of the kind," said the colonel. -"You would gain nothing by it for the lad, and lose much. Such rascals -walk in water, and are not to be tracked. He cannot be approached save -through Mr. Lionel Carvel himself, and that channel, for Mr. Carvel's -sake, must be closed." - -"But he must be shown up!" cried the captain. - -"What good will you accomplish?" said Mr. Washington; "Lord Baltimore is -notorious, and will not remove him. Nay, sir, you must find a way to get -the lad from his influence." And he asked me how was my grandfather's -health at present. - -I said that he had mended beyond my hopes. - -"And does he seem to rejoice that you are of the King's party?" - -"Nay, sir. Concerning politics he seems strangely apathetic, which makes -me fear he is not so well as he appears. All his life he has felt -strongly." - -"Then I beg you, Richard, take pains to keep neutral. Nor let any -passing event, however great, move you to speech or action." - -The captain shook his head doubtfully, as tho' questioning the ability of -one of my temper to do this. - -"I do not trust myself, sir," I answered. - -He rose, declaring it was past his hour for bed, and added some kind -things which I shall cherish in my memory. As he was leaving he laid his -hand on my shoulder. - -"One word of advice, my lad," he said. "If by any chance your -convictions are to come to your grandfather's ears, let him have them -from your own lips." And he bade me good night. - -The captain tarried but a moment longer. - -"I have a notion who is to blame for this, Richard," he said. "When I -come back from New York, we shall see what we shall see." - -"I fear he is too slippery for a soldier to catch," I answered. - -He went away to bed, telling me to be prudent, and mind the colonel's -counsel until he returned from the North. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE VOLTE COUPE - -I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for -my wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me. -But just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and -I sat down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon -myself, but to stay awhile. - -The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me. - -"Ho!" he cried, "will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?" - -He was already purple with wine. - -"God save me from you and your kind!" I replied. - -"'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!" he exclaimed, as he went -off down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And -they were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There -was the captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two -brother officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased to -be found in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who had -followed my Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have tracked -him to perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain, leering and -hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of drunkenness as I had -rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and smiled, and was pushing -his chair back, when something Collinson said seemed to restrain him. - -I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though I -could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some -French cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was -making me dangerous. - -I forgot the advice I had received, and remembered only the months he had -goaded me. And I was even beginning to speculate how I could best pick a -quarrel with him on any issue but politics, when an unexpected incident -diverted me. Of a sudden the tall, ungainly form of Percy Singleton -filled the doorway, wrapped in a greatcoat. He swept the room at a -glance, and then strode rapidly toward the corner where I sat. - -"I had thought to find you here," he said, and dropped into a chair -beside me. I offered him wine, but he refused. - -"Now," he went on, "what has Patty done?" - -"What have I done that I should be publicly insulted?" I cried. - -"Insulted!" says he, "and did she insult you? She said nothing of that." - -"What brings you here, then?" I demanded. - -"Not to talk, Richard," he said quietly, "'tis no time tonight. I came -to fetch you home. Patty sent me." - -Patty sent him! Why had Patty sent him? But this I did not ask, for I -felt the devil within me. - -"We must first finish this bottle," said I, offhand, "and then I have a -little something to be done which I have set my heart upon. After that I -will go with you." - -"Richard, Richard, will you never learn prudence? What is it you speak -of?" - -I drew my sword and laid it upon the table. - -"I mean to spit that eel of a rector," said I, "or he will bear a slap -in the face. And you must see fair play." - -Singleton seized my coat, at the same time grasping the hilt of my sword -with the other hand. But neither my words nor my action had gone -unnoticed by the other end of the room. The company there fell silent -awhile, and then we heard Captain Collinson talking in even, drawling -tones. - -"'Tis strange," said he, "what hot sparks a man meets in these colonies. -They should be stamped out. His Majesty pampers these d--d Americans, -is too lenient by far. Gentlemen, this is how I would indulge them!" -He raised a closed fist and brought it down on the board. - -He spoke to Tories, but he forgot that Tories were Americans. In those -days only the meanest of the King's party would listen to such without -protest from an Englishman. But some of the meaner sort were there: -Philip and Tom laughed, and Mr. Allen, and my Lord's sycophants. -Fotheringay and some others of sense shook their heads one to another, -comprehending that Captain Collinson was somewhat gone in wine. -For, indeed, he had not strayed far from the sideboard at the assembly. -Comyn made a motion to rise. - -"It is already past three bells, sir, and a hunt to-morrow," he said. - -"From bottle to saddle, and from saddle to bottle, my Lord. We must have -our pleasure ashore, and sleep at sea," and the captain tipped his flask -with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord. -"We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason, -and before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the -customs served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word, -'twas as good as a play." - -I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the -cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept -over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and -Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice I -had reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from -Fotheringay on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the -floor. Then I drew back, amazed. - -I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me. - -The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's--Comyn -jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson--that none save me -guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was -up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me. - -"Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you," said I, -with what coolness I could muster. "But there is one here I would give -much for a chance to run through." - -And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and -movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face; -yet he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by -the Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us -with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him. - -"It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel," he cried. - -"As you please, my Lord," said I. - -"It boots not who crosses with him," Captain Collinson put in. "His -Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that -he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King." - -I wheeled on him for this. - -"I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and -murder, sir," I answered, "nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes -cannot be loyal save through interest." - -He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the -quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother as -against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been -reared. - -"Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn," cried the captain, with an -oath. "He seems to think his importance sufficient." - -But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should -strike him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was right. - -"You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel," he said. - -"Nay," I answered, "and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through -with it at once. A large room upstairs is at our disposal; and there is -a hunt to-morrow which one of us may like to attend." - -There was a laugh at this, in which his Lordship joined. - -"I would to God, Mr. Carvel," he said, "that I had no quarrel with you!" - -"Amen to that, my Lord," I replied; "there are others here I would rather -fight." And I gave a meaning look at Mr. Allen. I was of two minds to -announce the scurvy trick he had played, but saw that I would lose rather -than gain by the attempt. Up to that time the wretch had not spoken a -word; now he pushed himself forward, though well clear of me. - -"I think it my duty as Mr. Carvel's tutor, gentlemen, to protest against -this matter proceeding," he said, a sneer creeping into his voice. "Nor -can I be present at it. Mr. Carvel is young and, besides, is not himself -with liquor. And, in the choice of politics, he knows not which leg he -stands upon. My Lord and gentlemen, your most humble and devoted." - -He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left the -tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep in -his chair. - -Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve his -Lordship, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some one. -'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had passed from my mind. - -He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And -Will Fotheringay came forward. - -"I will act, Richard, if you allow me," he said. "I would have you know -I am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party. -But I admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy -with that which prompted his act." - -It was a noble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked him -with warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his -Lordship! - -Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told -that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private -room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party of -such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards. -Presently we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment -below. - -We gathered about the table and made shift at loo until the fellow had -retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and -Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my -anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed -between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of -Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man--like a -Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then -the clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter -floated up to us from below. - -And Comyn,--of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the -downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her -tears until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by the -lad before me. What a picture was he in his spotless shirt with the -ruffles, his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest! - -I had scarce felt his Lordship's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a -pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint or -trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was -buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore that -I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a pin-cushion -twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals thrust into a pit -with nothing but good-will between them, and those without force them -into anger and a deadly battle. And so it was, unconsciously, between -Comyn and me. I forgot presently that I was not dealing with Captain -Collinson, and my feelings went into my sword. Comyn began to press me, -nor did I give back. And then, before it came over me that we had to do -with life and death, he was upon me with a volte coupe, feinting in high -carte and thrusting in low tierce, his point passing through a fold in my -shirt. And I were not alive to write these words had I not leaped out of -his measure. - -"Bravo, Richard!" cried Fotheringay. - -"Well made, gads life!" from Mr. Furness. - -We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the -matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows I was -not used to play a passive part. I began to go carefully, but fiercely; -tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain Daniel had -taught me,--flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me even, and in -truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I had him in the -sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick for me. We were -sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in my ears I could -scarce hear the applause of the seconds. - -What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again -the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it he did, -this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that intuition -which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of his adversary. -Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this coupe. I -parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and my point -at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the space of a -second. My sword rang clattering on the floor. - -His Lordship understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one -wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the -rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp -pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock -striking the half-hour. - -I was blessed with a sturdy health such as few men enjoy, and came to -myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And -the first face I beheld was that of Colonel Washington. I heard him -speaking in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding. - -"I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air. -Fetch some linen!" - -"Now God be praised!" I heard Captain Daniel cry. - -With that his Lordship began to tear his own shirt into strips, and the -captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound -and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel assisting. When Mr. -Washington had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and -dishevelled, at my feet. - -"You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord," he said. - -"With all my heart, Colonel Washington!" cried his Lordship. "I owe my -life to his generosity." - -"What's that, sir?" - -Mr. Carvel dropped his sword, rather than run me through." - -"I'll warrant!" Captain Daniel put in; "'Od's heart! The lad has skill -to point the eye of a button. I taught him myself." - -Colonel Washington stood up and laid his hand on the captain's arm. - -"He is Jack Carvel over again," I heard him say, in a low voice. - -I tried to struggle to my feet, to speak, but he restrained me. And -sending for his servants, he ordered them to have his baggage removed -from the Roebuck, which was the best bed in the house. At this moment -the door opened, and Mr. Swain came in hurriedly. - -"I pray you, gentlemen," he cried, "and he is fit to be moved, you will -let me take him to Marlboro' Street. I have a chariot at the door." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -OF WHICH THE RECTOR HAS THE WORST - -'Twas late when I awoke the next day with something of a dull ache in my -neck, and a prodigious stiffness, studying the pleatings of the bed -canopy over my head. And I know not how long I lay idly thus when I -perceived Mrs. Willis moving quietly about, and my grandfather sitting -in the armchair by the window, looking into Freshwater Lane. As my eyes -fell upon him my memory came surging back,--first of the duel, then of -its cause. And finally, like a leaden weight, the thought of the -deception I had practised upon him, of which he must have learned -ere this. Nay, I was sure from the troubled look of his face that -he knew of it. - -"Mr. Carvel," I said. - -At the sound of my voice he got hastily from his chair and hurried to my -side. - -"Richard," he answered, taking my hand, "Richard!" - -I opened my mouth to speak, to confess. But he prevented me, the tears -filling the wrinkles around his eyes. - -"Nay, lad, nay. We will not talk of it. I know all." - -"Mr. Allen has been here--" I began. - -"And be d--d to him! Be d--d to him for a wolf in sheep's clothing!" -shouted my grandfather, his manner shifting so suddenly to anger that I -was taken back. "So help me God I will never set foot in St. Anne's -while he is rector. Nor shall he come to this house!" - -And he took three or four disorderly turns about the room. - -"Ah!" he continued more quietly, with something of a sigh, "I might have -known how stubborn your mind should be. That you was never one to blow -from the north one day and from the south the next. I deny not that -there be good men and able of your way of thinking: Colonel Washington, -for one, whom I admire and honour; and our friend Captain Daniel. They -have been here to-day, Richard, and I promise you were good advocates." - -Then I knew that I was forgiven. And I could have thrown myself at Mr. -Carvel's feet for happiness. - -"Has Colonel Washington spoken in my favour, sir?" - -"That he has. He is upon some urgent business for the North, I believe, -which he delayed for your sake. Both he and the captain were in my -dressing-room before I was up, ahead of that scurrilous clergyman, who -was for pushing his way to my bed-curtains. Ay, the two of them were -here at nigh dawn this morning, and Mr. Allen close after them. And I -own that Captain Daniel can swear with such a consuming violence as to -put any rogue out of countenance. 'Twas all Mr. Washington could do to -restrain Clapsaddle from booting his Reverence over the balustrade and -down two runs of the stairs, the captain declaring he would do for every -cur's son of the whelps. 'Diomedes,' says I, waking up, 'what's this -damnable racket on the landing? Is Mr. Richard home?' For I had some -notion it was you, sir, after an over-night brawl. And I profess I would -have caned you soundly. The fellow answered that Captain Clapsaddle's -honour was killing Mr. Allen, and went out; and came back presently to -say that some tall gentleman had the captain by the neck, and that Mr. -Allen was picking his way down the ice on the steps outside. With that -I went in to them in my dressing-gown. - -"'What's all this to-do, gentlemen?' said I. - -"'I'd have finished that son of a dog,' says the captain, 'and Colonel -Washington had let me.' - -"'What, what!' said I. 'How now? What! Drive a clergyman from my -house gentlemen?' - -"'What's Richard been at now?' - -"Mr. Washington asked me to dress, saying that they had something very -particular to speak about; that they would stay to breakfast with me, -tho' they were in haste to be gone to New York. I made my compliments to -the colonel and had them shown to the library fire, and hurried down -after them. Then they told me of this affair last night, and they -cleared you, sir. 'Faith,' cried I, 'and I would have fought, too. The -lad was in the right of it, though I would have him a little less hasty.' -D--n me if I don't wish you had knocked that sea captain's teeth into his -throat, and his brains with them. I like your spirit, sir. A pox on -such men as he, who disgrace his Majesty's name and set better men -against him." - -"And they told you nothing else, sir?" I asked, with misgiving. - -"That they did. Mr. Washington repeated the confession you made to them, -sir, in a manner that did you credit. He made me compliments on you,-- -said that you were a man, sir, though a trifle hasty: in the which I -agreed. Yes, d--n me, a trifle hasty like your father. I rejoice that -you did not kill his Lordship, my son." - -The twilight was beginning; and the old gentleman going back to his chair -was set amusing, gazing out across the bare trees and gables falling gray -after the sunset. - -What amazed me was that he did not seem to be shocked by the revelation -near as much as I had feared. So this matter had brought me happiness -where I looked for nothing but sorrow. - -"And the gentlemen are gone north, sir?" said I, after a while. - -"Yes, Richard, these four hours. I commanded an early dinner for them, -since the colonel was pleased to tarry long enough for a little politics -and to spin a glass. And I profess, was I to live neighbours with such a -man, I might come to his way of thinking, despite myself. Though I say -it that shouldn't, some of his Majesty's ministers are d--d rascals." - -I laughed. As I live, I never hoped to hear such words from my -grandfather's lips. - -"He did not seek to convince, like so many of your hotheaded know-it- -alls," said Mr. Carvel; "he leaves a man to convince himself. He has -great parts, Richard, and few can stand before him." He paused. And -then his smooth-shaven face became creased in a roguish smile which I had -often seen upon it. "What baggage is this I hear of that you quarrelled -over at the assembly? Ah, Sir, I fear you are become but a sad rake!" -says he. - -But by great good fortune Dr. Leiden was shown in at this instant. And -the candles being lighted, he examined my neck, haranguing the while in -his vile English against the practice of duelling. He bade me keep my -bed for two days, thereby giving me no great pleasure. - -"As I hope to live," said Mr. Carvel when the doctor was gone, "one would -have thought his Excellency himself had been pinked instead of a whip of -a lad, for the people who have been here. His Lordship and Dr. Courtenay -came before the hunt, and young Mr. Fotheringay, and half a score of -others. Mr. Swain is but now left to go to Baltimore on some barrister's -business." - -I was burning to learn what the rector had said to Patty, but it was -plain Mr. Carvel knew nothing of this part of the story. He had not -mentioned Grafton among the callers. I wondered what course my uncle -would now pursue, that his plans to alienate me from my grandfather had -failed. And I began debating whether or not to lay the whole plot before -Mr. Carvel. Prudence bade me wait, since Grafton had not consorted with -the rector openly, at least--for more than a year. And yet I spoke. - -"Mr. Carvel!" - -He stirred in his chair. - -"Yes, my son." - -He had to repeat, and still I held my tongue. Even as I hesitated there -came a knock at the door, and Scipio entered, bearing candles. - -"Massa Grafton, suh," he said. - -My uncle was close at his heels. He was soberly dressed in dark brown -silk, and his face wore that expression of sorrow and concern he knew how -to assume at will. After greeting his father with his usual ceremony, he -came to my bedside and asked gravely how I did. - -"How now, Grafton!" cried Mr. Carvel; "this is no funeral. The lad has -only a scratch, thank God!" - -My uncle looked at me and forced a smile. - -"Indeed I am rejoiced to find you are not worried over this matter, -father," said he. "I am but just back from Kent to learn of it, and -looked to find you in bed." - -"Why, no, sir, I am not worried. I fought a duel in my own day,--over a -lass, it was." - -This time Grafton's smile was not forced. - -"Over a lass, was it?" he asked, and added in a tone of relief, "and how -do you, nephew?" - -Mr. Carvel saved me from replying. - -"'Od's life!" he cried; "no, I did not say this was over a lass. I have -heard the whole matter; how Captain Collinson, who is a disgrace to the -service, brought shame upon his Majesty's supporters, and how Richard -felled the young lord instead. I'll be sworn, and I had been there, I -myself would have run the brute through." - -My uncle did not ask for further particulars, but took a chair, and a -dish of tea from Scipio. His smug look told me plainer than words that -he thought my grandfather still ignorant of my Whig sentiments. - -"I often wish that this deplorable practice of duelling might be -legislated against," he remarked. "Was there no one at the Coffee House -with character enough to stop the lads?" - -Here was my chance. - -"Mr. Allen was there," I said. - -"A devil's plague upon him!" shouted my grandfather, beating the floor -with his stick. "And the lying hypocrite ever crosses my path, by gad's -life! I'll tear his gown from his back!" - -I watched Grafton narrowly. Such as he never turn pale, but he set down -his tea so hastily as to spill the most of it on the dresser. - -"Why, you astound me, my dear father!" he faltered; "Mr. Allen a lying -hypocrite? What can he have done?" - -"Done!" cried my grandfather, sputtering and red as a cherry with -indignation. "He is as rotten within as a pricked pear, I tell you, sir! -For the sake of retaining the lad in his tuition he came to me and lied, -sir, just after I had escaped death, and said that by his influence -Richard had become loyal, and set dependence upon Richard's fear of the -shock 'twould give me if he confessed--Richard, who never told me a -falsehood in his life! And instead of teaching him, he has gamed with -the lad at the rectory. I dare make oath he has treated your son to a -like instruction. 'Slife, sir, and he had his deserts, he would hang -from a gibbet at the Town Gate." - -I raised up in bed to see the effect of this on my uncle. But however -the wind veered, Grafton could steer a course. He got up and began -pacing the room, and his agitation my grandfather took for indignation -such as his own. - -"The dog!" he cried fiercely. "The villain! Philip shall leave him to- -morrow. And to think that it was I who moved you to put Richard to him!" - -His distress seemed so real that Mr. Carvel replied: - -"No, Grafton, 'twas not your fault. You were deceived as much as I. You -have put your own son to him. But if I live another twelve hours I shall -write his Lordship to remove him. What! You shake your head, sir!" - -"It will not do," said my uncle. "Lord Baltimore has had his reasons for -sending such a scoundrel--he knew what he was, you may be sure, father. -His Lordship, sir, is the most abandoned rake in London, and that -unmentionable crime of his but lately in the magazines--" - -"Yes, yes," my grandfather interrupted; "I have seen it. But I will -publish him in Annapolis." - -My uncle's answer startled me, so like was it to the argument Colonel -Washington himself had used. - -"What would you publish, sir? Mr. Allen will reply that what he did -was for the lad's good, and your own. He may swear that since Richard -mentioned politics no more he had taken his conversion for granted." - -My grandfather groaned, and did not speak, and I saw the futility of -attempting to bring Grafton to earth for a while yet. - -My uncle had recovered his confidence. He had hoped, so he said, that -I had become a good loyalist: perchance as I grew older I would see the -folly of those who called themselves Patriots. But my grandfather cried -out to him not to bother me then. And when at last he was gone, of my -own volition I proposed to promise Mr. Carvel that, while he lived, I -would take no active part in any troubles that might come. He stopped me -with some vehemence. - -"I pray God there may be no troubles, lad," he answered; "but you need -give me no promise. I would rather see you in the Whig ranks than a -trimmer, for the Carvels have ever been partisans." - -I tried to express my gratitude. But he sighed and wished me good night, -bidding me get some rest. - -I had scarce finished my breakfast the next morning when I heard a loud -rat-tat-tat upon the street door-surely the footman of some person of -consequence. And Scipio was in the act of announcing the names when, -greatly to his disgust, the visitors themselves rushed into my bedroom -and curtailed the ceremony. They were none other than Dr. Courtenay and -my Lord Comyn himself. His Lordship had no sooner seen me than he ran to -the bed, grasped both my hands and asked me how I did, declaring he would -not have gone to yesterday's hunt had he been permitted to visit me. - -"Richard," cried the doctor, "your fame has sprung up like Jonah's gourd. -The Gazette is but just distributed. Here's for you! 'Twill set the -wags a-going, I'll warrant." - -He drew the newspaper from his pocket and began to read, stopping now and -anon to laugh: - -"Rumour hath it that a Young Gentleman of Quality of this Town, who is -possessed of more Valour than Discretion, and whose Skill at Fence and in -the Field is beyond his Years, crossed Swords on Wednesday Night with a -Young Nobleman from the Thunderer. The Cause of this Deplorable Quarrel, -which had its Origin at the Ball, is purported to have been a Young Lady -of Wit and Beauty. (& we doubt it not; for, alas! the Sex hath Much to -answer for of this Kind.) - -"The Gentlemen, with their Seconds, repaired after the Assembly to the -Coffee House. 'Tis said upon Authority that H-s L-dsh-p owes his Life to -the Noble Spirit of our Young American, who cast down his Blade rather -than sheathe it in his Adversary's Body, thereby himself receiving a -Grievous, the' happily not Mortal, Wound. Our Young Gentleman is become -the Hero of the Town, and the Subject of Prodigious Anxiety of all the -Ladies thereof." - -"There's for you, my lad!" says he; "Mr. Green has done for you both -cleverly." - -"Upon my soul," I cried, raising up in bed, "he should be put in the -gatehouse for his impudence! My Lord,--" - -"Don't 'My Lord' me," says Comyn; "plain 'Jack' will do." - -There was no resisting such a man: and I said as much. And took his hand -and called him 'Jack,' the doctor posing before the mirror the while, -stroking his rues. "Out upon you both," says he, "for a brace of -sentimental fools!" - -"Richard," said Comyn, presently, with a roguish glance at the doctor, -"there were some reason in our fighting had it been over a favour of Miss -Manners. Eh? Come, doctor," he cried, "you will break your neck looking -for the reflection of wrinkles. Come, now, we must have little Finery's -letter. I give you my word Chartersea is as ugly as all three heads of -Cerberus, and as foul as a ship's barrel of grease. I tell you Miss -Dorothy would sooner marry you." - -"And she might do worse, my Lord," the doctor flung back, with a strut. - -"Ay, and better. But I promise you Richard and I are not such fools as -to think she will marry his Grace. We must have the little coxcomb's -letter." - -"Well, have it you must, I suppose," returns the doctor. And with that -he draws it from his pocket, where he has it buttoned in. Then he took a -pinch of Holland and began. - -The first two pages had to deal with Miss Dorothy's triumph, to which her -father made full justice. Mr. Manners world have the doctor (and all the -province) to know that peers of the realm, soldiers, and statesmen were -at her feet. Orders were as plentiful in his drawing-room as the -candles. And he had taken a house in Arlington Street, where Horry -Walpole lived when not at Strawberry, and their entrance was crowded -night and day with the footmen and chairmen of the grand monde. Lord -Comyn broke in more than once upon the reading, crying,--"Hear, hear!" -and,--"My word, Mr. Manners has not perjured himself thus far. He has -not done her justice by half." And I smiled at the thought that I had -aspired to such a beauty! - -"'Entre noes, mon cher Courtenay,' Mr. Manners writes, 'entre noes, our -Dorothy hath had many offers of great advantage since she hath been here. -And but yesterday comes a chariot with a ducal coronet to our door. His -Grace of Chartersea, if you please, to request a private talk with me. -And I rode with him straightway to his house in Hanover Square.'" - -"'Egad! And would gladly have ridden straightway to Newgate, in a ducal -chariot!" cried his Lordship, in a fit of laughter. - -"'I rode to Hanover Square,' the doctor continued, 'where we discussed -the matter over a bottle. His Grace's generosity was such that I could -not but cry out at it, for he left me to name any settlement I pleased. -He must have Dorothy at any price, said he. And I give you my honour, -mon cher Courtenay, that I lost no time in getting back to Arlington -Street, and called Dorothy down to tell her.'" - -"Now may I be flayed," said Comyn, "if ever there was such another ass!" - -The doctor took more snuff and fell a-laughing. - -"But hark to this," said he, "here's the cream of it all: - -"You will scarce believe me when I say that the baggage was near beside -herself with anger at what I had to tell her. 'Marry that misshapen -duke!' cries she, 'I would quicker marry Doctor Johnson!' And truly, I -begin to fear she hath formed an affection for some like, foul-linened -beggar. That his Grace is misshapen I cannot deny; but I tried reason -upon her. 'Think of the coronet, my dear, and of the ancient name to -which it belongs.' She only stamps her foot and cries out: - -"'Coronet fiddlesticks! And are you not content with the name you bear, -sir?" 'Our name is good as any in the three kingdoms,' said I, with -truth. 'Then you would have me, for the sake of the coronet, joined to a -wretch who is steeped in debauchery. Yes, debauchery, sir! You might -then talk, forsooth, to the macaronies of Maryland, of your daughter the -Duchess.'" - -"There's spirit for you, my lad!" Comyn shouted; "I give you Miss -Dorothy." And he drained a glass of punch Scipio had brought in, Doctor -Courtenay and I joining him with a will. - -"I pray you go on, sir," I said to the doctor. - -"A pest on your impatience!" replied he; "I begin to think you are in -love with her yourself." - -"To be sure he is," said Comyn; "he had lost my esteem and he were not." - -The doctor gave me an odd look. I was red enough, indeed. - -"'I could say naught, my dear Courtenay, to induce her to believe that his -Grace's indiscretions arose from the wildness of youth. And I pass over -the injustice she hath unwittingly done me, whose only efforts are for -her bettering. The end of it all was that I must needs post back to the -duke, who was stamping with impatience up and down, and drinking -Burgundy. I am sure I meant him no offence, but told him in as many -words, that my daughter had refused him. And, will you believe me, sir? -He took occasion to insult me (I cannot with propriety repeat his -speech), and he flung a bottle after me as I passed out the door. Was he -not far gone in wine at the time, I assure you I had called him out for -it.'" - -"And, gentlemen," said the doctor, when our merriment was somewhat spent, -"I'll lay a pipe of the best Madeira, that our little fool never knows -the figure he has cut with his Grace." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR - -The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still upon my -back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seen him -again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who drift -together to part. And he left me that sword with the jewelled hilt, -that hangs above my study fire, which he had bought in Toledo. He told -me that he was heartily sick of the navy; that he had entered only in -respect for a wish of his father's, the late Admiral Lord Comyn, and that -the Thunderer was to sail for New York, where he looked for a release -from his commission, and whence he would return to England. He would -carry any messages to Miss Manners that I chose to send. But I could -think of none, save to beg him to remind her that she was constantly in -my thoughts. He promised me, roguishly enough, that he would have -thought of a better than that by the time he sighted Cape Clear. And -were I ever to come to London he would put me up at Brooks's Club, and -warrant me a better time and more friends than ever had a Caribbee who -came home on a visit. - -My grandfather kept his word in regard to Mr. Allen, and on Sunday -commanded the coach at eight. We drove over bad roads to the church at -South River. And he afterwards declined the voluntary aid he hitherto -had been used to give to St. Anne's. In the meantime, good Mr. Swain had -called again, bringing some jelly and cake of Patty's own making; and a -letter writ out of the sincerity of her heart, full of tender concern and -of penitence. She would never cease to blame herself for the wrong she -now knew she had done me. - -Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinner -that Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street. From the window she saw me -coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me. Her eyes -rested first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fire -of anxiety. - -"I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to South -River," she said. - -I was struck all of a sudden with her looks. Her face was pale, and I -saw that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed her -into the little library. The day was fading fast, and the leaping flames -behind the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of the -ceiling. We sat together in the deep window. - -"And you have forgiven me, Richard?" she asked. - -"An hundred times," I replied. "I deserved all I got, and more." - -"If I had not wronged and insulted you--" - -"You did neither, Patty," I broke in; "I have played a double part for -the first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished for -it." - -"'Twas I sent you to the Coffee House," she cried, "where you might have -been killed. How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen's tales!" - -"Then it was Mr. Allen!" I exclaimed, fetching a long breath. - -"Yes, yes; I will tell you all." - -"No," said I, alarmed at her agitation; "another time." - -"I must," she answered more calmly; "it has burned me enough. You recall -that we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn, and -how merry we were, altho' 'twas nothing but 'Dorothy' with you gentlemen. -Then you left me. Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr. Singleton, the -rector came up. I never have liked the man, Richard, but I little knew -his character. He began by twitting me for a Whig, and presently he -said: 'But we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who sees the error of -his ways. Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promised to be one of -those with whom his Majesty will have to reckon. And he is now become,' ---laughing,--'the King's most loyal and devoted.' I was beside myself. -'That is no subject for jest, Mr. Allen,' I cried; I will never believe -it of him!' 'Jest!' said he; I give you my word I was never soberer in -my life.' Then it all came to me of a sudden that you sat no longer by -the hour with my father, as you used, and you denounced the King's -measures and ministers no more. My father had spoken of it. 'Tell me -why he has changed?' I asked, faltering with doubt of you, which I never -before had felt. 'Indeed, I know not,' replied the rector, with his most -cynical smile; unless it is because old Mr. Carvel might disinherit a -Whig. But I see you doubt my word, Miss Swain. Here is Mr. Carroll, -and you may ask him.' God forgive me, Richard! I stopped Mr. Carroll, -who seemed mightily surprised. And he told me yes, that your grandfather -had said but a few days before, and with joy, that you were now of his -Majesty's party." - -"Alas! I might have foreseen this consequence," I exclaimed. "Nor do I -blame you, Patty." - -"But my father has explained all," Patty continued, brightening. "His -admiration for you is increased tenfold, Richard. Your grandfather told -him of the rector's treachery, which he says is sufficient to make him -turn Methodist or Lutheran. We went to the curate's service to-day. And ---will you hear more, sir? Or do your ears burn? That patriots and -loyalists are singing your praises from Town Gate to the dock, and -regretting that you did not kill that detestable Captain Collinson--but -I have something else, and of more importance, to tell you, Richard," -she continued, lowering her voice. - -"What Mr. Carroll had told me stunned me like a blow, such had been my -faith in you. And when Mr. Allen moved off, I stood talking to Percy -Singleton and his Lordship without understanding a word of the -conversation. I could scarce have been in my right mind. It was not -your going over to the other side that pained me so, for all your people -are Tories. But I had rather seen you dead than a pretender and a -hypocrite, selling yourself for an inheritance. Then you came. -My natural impulse should have been to draw yon aside and there accuse -you. But this was beyond my strength. And when I saw you go away -without a word I knew that I had been unjust. I could have wept before -them all. Mr. Carroll went for his coach, and was a full half an hour -in getting it. But this is what I would tell you in particular, Richard. -I have not spoken of it to a soul, and it troubles me above all else: -While Maria was getting my cardinal I heard voices on the other side of -the dressing-room door. The supper-room is next, you know. I listened, -and recognized the rector's deep tones: 'He has gone to the Coffee -House,' he was saying; Collinson declares that his Lordship is our man, -if we can but contrive it. He is the best foil in the service, and was -taught by--there! I have forgot the name." - -"Angelo!" I cried. - -"Yes, yes, Angelo it was. How did you know?" she demanded, rising in -her excitement. - -"Angelo is the great fencing-master of London," I replied. - -"When I heard that," she said, "I had no doubt of your innocence. I ran -out into the assembly room as I was, in my hood, and tried to find Tom. -But he--" She paused, ashamed. - -"Yes, I know," I said hurriedly; "you could not find him." - -She glanced at me in gratitude. - -"How everybody stared at me! But little I cared! 'Twas that gave rise -to Mr. Green's report. I thought of Percy Singleton, and stopped him in -the midst of a dance to bid him run as fast as his legs would carry him -to the Coffee House, and to see that no harm befell you. 'I shall hold -you responsible for Richard,' I whispered. 'You must get him away from -Mr. Claude's, or I shall never speak to you again.' He did not wait to -ask questions, but went at once, like the good fellow he is. Then I rode -home with Maria. I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though he -begged hard. Father was in here, writing his brief. But I was all in -pieces, Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him no more -than that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant to draw you -into a duel. He took me up to my own room, and I heard him going out to -wake Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving away in our coach. -I hope I may never in my life spend such another hour as I passed then." - -The light in the sky had gone out. I looked up at the girl before -me as she stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, -her lips parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her -figure softened. I wondered why I had never before known her beauty. -Perchance it was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart. - -I leaped to my feet and seized her hands. For a second she looked at me, -startled. Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair in -the corner. - -"Richard, Richard!" she exclaimed. "Did Dorothy but know!" - -"Dorothy is occupied with titles," I said. - -Patty's lip quivered. And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I had -hurt her. - -"Oh, you wrong her!" she cried; "believe me when I say that she loves -you, and you only, Richard." - -"Loves me!" I retorted bitterly,--brutally, I fear. "No. She may have -once, long ago. But now her head is turned." - -"She loves you now," answered Patty, earnestly; "and I think ever will, -if you but deserve her." - -And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexity -and consternation. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -SOUTH RIVER - -My grandfather's defection from St. Anne's called forth a deal of comment -in Annapolis. His Excellency came to remonstrate, but to no avail, and -Mr. Carvel denounced the rector in such terms that the Governor was glad -to turn the subject. My Uncle Grafton acted with such quickness and -force as would have served to lull the sharpest suspicions. He forbid -the rector his house, attended the curate's service, and took Philip -from his care. It was decided that both my cousin and I were to go to -King's College after Christmas. Grafton's conduct greatly pleased my -grandfather. "He has behaved very loyally in this matter, Richard." he -said to me. "I grow to reproach myself more every day for the injustice -I once did him. He is heaping coals of fire upon my old head. But, -faith! I cannot stomach your Aunt Caroline. You do not seem to like -your uncle, lad." - -I answered that I did not. - -"It was ever the Carvel way not to forget," he went on. "Nevertheless, -Grafton hath your welfare at heart, I think. His affection for you as -his brother's son is great." - -O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue! - -Christmas fell upon Monday of that year, 1769. There was to be a ball at -Upper Marlboro on the Friday before, to which many of us were invited. -Though the morning came in with a blinding snowstorm from the north, the -first of that winter, about ten of the clock we set out from Annapolis an -exceeding merry party, the ladies in four coaches-and-six, the gentlemen -and their servants riding at the wheels. We laughed and joked despite -the storm, and exchanged signals with the fair ones behind the glasses. - -But we had scarce got two miles beyond the town gate when a messenger -overtook us with a note for Mr. Carvel, writ upon an odd slip of paper, -and with great apparent hurry: - -HONOURED SIR, - -"I have but just come to Annapolis from New York, with Instructions to -put into your Hands, & no Others, a Message of the greatest Import. -Hearing you are but now set out for Upper Marlboro I beg of you to return -for half an Hour to the Coffee House. By so doing you will be of service -to a Friend, and confer a Favour upon y'r most ob'd't Humble Servant, - -"SILAS RIDGEWAY." - -Our cavalcade had halted while I read, the ladies letting down the -glasses and leaning out in their concern lest some trouble had befallen -me or my grandfather. I answered them and bade them ride on, vowing that -I would overtake the coaches before they reached the Patuxent. Then I -turned Cynthia's head for town, with Hugo at my heels. - -Patty, leaning from the window of the last coach, called out to me as I -passed. I waved my hand in return, and did not remember until long after -the anxiety in her eyes. - -As I rode, and I rode hard, I pondered over the words of this letter. I -knew not this Mr. Ridgeway from the Lord Mayor of London; but I came to -the conclusion before I had reprised the gate that his message was from -Captain Daniel. And I greatly feared that some evil had befallen my good -friend. So I came to the Coffee House, and throwing my bridle to Hugo, I -ran in. - -I found Mr. Ridgeway neither in the long room nor in the billiard room -nor the bar. Mr. Claude told me that indeed a man had arrived that -morning from the North, a spare person with a hooked nose and scant hair, -in a brown greatcoat with a torn cape. He had gone forth afoot half an -hour since. His messenger, a negro lad whose face I knew, was in the -stables with Hugo. He had never seen the stranger till he met him that -morning in State House Circle inquiring for Mr. Carvel, and had been -given a shilling to gallop after me. Impatient as I was to be gone, I -sat me down in the coffee room, thinking every minute the man must -return, and strongly apprehensive that Captain Daniel must be in some -grave predicament. That the favour he asked was of such a nature as I, -and not my grandfather, could best fulfil. - -At length, about a quarter after noon, my man comes in with Mr. Claude -close behind him. I liked his looks less than his description, and the -moment I clapped eyes on him I knew that Captain Daniel had never chose -such a messenger. - -"This is Mr. Richard Carvel," said Mr. Claude. - -The fellow made me a low bow, which I scarcely returned. - -"I am sure, 'sir," he began in a whining voice, "that I crave your -forbearance for this prodigious, stupid mistake I have made." - -"Mistake!" I exclaimed hotly; "you mean to say, sir, that you have -brought me back for nothing?" - -The man's eye shifted, and he made me another bow. - -"I scarce know what to say, Mr. Carvel," he answered with much humility; -"to speak truth, 'twas zeal to my employers, and methought to you, that -caused you to retrace your steps in this pestiferous storm. I travel," -he proceeded with some importance, "I travel for Messrs. Rinnell and -Runn, Barristers of the town of New York, and carry letters to men of -mark all over these middle and southern colonies. And my instructions, -sir, were to come to Annapolis with all reasonable speed with this -double-sealed enclosure for Mr. Carvel: and to deliver it to him, and him -only, the very moment I arrived. As I came through your town I made -inquiries, and was told by a black fellow in the Circle that Mr. Carvel -was but just left for Upper Marlboro with a cavalcade of four coaches- -and-six and some dozen gentlemen with their servants. I am sure my -mistake was pardonable, Mr. Carvel," he concluded with a smirk; "this -gentleman was plainly of the first quality, as was he to whom I was -directed. And as he was about to leave town for I knew not how long, I -hope I was in the right in bidding the black ride after him, for I give -you my word the business was most pressing for him. I crave your -forgiveness, and the pleasure of drinking your honour's health." - -I barely heard the fellow through, and was turning on my heel in disgust, -when it struck me to ask him what Mr. Carvel he sought, for I feared lest -my grandfather had got into some lawsuit. - -"And it please your honour, Mr. Grafton Carvel," said he; "your uncle, I -understand. Unfortunately he has gone to his estate in Kent County, -whither I must now follow him." - -I bade Mr. Claude summon my servant, not stopping to question the man -further, such was my resentment against him. And in ten minutes we were -out of the town again, galloping between the nearly filled tracks of the -coaches, now three hours ahead of us. The storm was increasing, and the -wind cutting, but I dug into Cynthia so that poor Hugo was put to it to -hold the pace, and, tho' he had a pint of rum in him, was near perished -with the cold. As my anger cooled somewhat I began to wonder how Mr. -Silas Ridgeway, whoever he was, could have been such a simpleton as his -story made him out. Indeed, he looked more the rogue than the ass; nor -could I conceive how reliable barristers could hire such a one. I wished -heartily that I had exhausted him further, and a suspicion crossed my -brain that he might have come to Mr. Allen, who had persuaded him to -deliver a letter to Grafton intended for me. Some foreboding beset me, -and I was once close to a full mind for going back, and slacked Cynthia's -pace to a trot. But the thought of the pleasures at Upper Marlboro' and -the hope of overtaking the party at Mr. Dorsey's place, over the -Patuxent, where they looked to dine, decided me in pushing on. And thus -we came to South River, with the snow so thick that we could scarce see -ten yards in front of us. - -Beyond, the road winds up the hill'around the end of Mr. Wiley's -plantation and plunges shortly into the woods, gray and cold indeed to- -day. At their skirt a trail branches off which leads to Mr. Whey's -warehouses, on the water's edge a mile or so below. And I marked that -this path was freshly trodden. I recall a small shock of surprise at -this, for the way was used only in the early autumn to connect with some -fields beyond the hill. And then I heard a sharp cry from Hugo and -pulled Cynthia short. He was some ten paces behind me. - -"Marse Dick!" he shouted, the whites of his eyes rolled up. "We'se gwine -to be robbed, Marse Dick." And he pointed to the footprints in the snow; -"somefin done tole Hugo not come to-day." - -"Nonsense!" I cried; "Mr. Wiley is making his lazy beggars cut wood -against Christmas." - -When in this temper the poor fellow had more fear of me than of aught -else, and he closed up to my horse's flank, glancing apprehensively to -the right and left, his teeth rattling. We went at a brisk trot. We -know not, indeed, how to account for many things in this world, for with. -each beat of Cynthia's feet I found myself repeating the words South -River and Marlboro, and seeking in my mind a connection to something gone -before. Then, like a sudden gust of wind, comes to me that strange talk -between Grafton and the rector, overheard by old Harvey in the stables at -Carvel Hall. And Cynthia's ears were pointing forward. - -With a quick impulse I loosed the lower frogs of my coat, for my sword -was buckled beneath, and was reaching for one of the brace of pistols in -my saddle-bags. I had but released them when Hugo cried out: "Gawd, -Marse Dick, run for yo' life!" and I caught a glimpse of him flying down -the road. As I turned a shot rang out, Cynthia reared high with a rough -brute of a fellow clinging to her bridle. I sent my charge full into his -chest, and as he tumbled in the snow I dug my spurs to the rowels. - -What happened then is still a blurred picture in my brain. I know that -Cynthia was shot from under me before she had taken her leap, and we fell -heavily together. And I was scarcely up again and my sword drawn, when -the villains were pressing me from all sides. I remember spitting but -one, and then I heard a great seafaring oath, the first word out of their -mouths, and I was felled from behind with a mighty blow. - - - - -THE "BLACK MOLL" - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE "BLACK MOLL" - -I have no intention, my dears, of dwelling upon that part of my -adventures which must be as painful to you as to me, the very -recollection of which, after all these years, suffices to cause the blood -within me to run cold. In my youth men whose natures shrank not from -encounter with their enemies lacked not, I warrant you, a checkered -experience. Those of us who are wound the tightest go the farthest and -strike the hardest. Nor is it difficult for one, the last of whose life -is being recorded, to review the outspread roll of it, and trace the -unerring forces which have drawn for themselves. - -Some, indeed, traverse this world weighing, before they partake, pleasure -and business alike. But I am not sure, my children, that they better -themselves; or that God, in His all-wise judgment, prefers them to such -as are guided by the divine impulse with which He has endowed them. Far -be it from me to advise rashness or imprudence, as such; nor do I believe -you will take me so. But I say unto you: do that which is right, and let -God, not man, be your interpreter. - -My narrative awaits me. - -I came to my wits with an immoderate feeling of faintness and sickness, -with no more remembrance of things past than has a man bereft of reason. -And for some time I swung between sense and oblivion before an -overpowering stench forced itself upon my nostrils, accompanied by a -creaking, straining sound and sweeping motion. I could see nothing for -the pitchy blackness. Then I recalled what had befallen me, and cried -aloud to God in my anguish, for I well knew I had been carried aboard -ship, and was at sea. I had oftentimes heard of the notorious press-gang -which supplied the need of the King's navy, and my first thought was that -I had fallen in their clutches. But I wondered that they had dared -attack a person of my consequence. - -I had no pain. I lay in a bunk that felt gritty and greasy to the touch, -and my hair was matted behind by a clot of blood. I had been stripped of -my clothes, and put into some coarse and rough material, the colour and -condition of which I could not see for want of light. I began to cast -about me, to examine the size of the bunk, which I found to be narrow, -and plainly at some distance from the deck, for I laid hold upon one of -the rough beams above me. By its curvature I knew it to be a knee, and -thus I came to the caulked sides of the vessel, and for the first time -heard the rattling thud and swish of water on the far side of it. I had -no sooner made this discovery, which drew from me an involuntary groan, -when a ship's lanthorn was of a sudden thrust over me, and I perceived -behind it a head covered with shaggy hair and beard, and beetling brows. -Never had I been in such a terrifying presence. - -"Damn my blood and bones, life signals at last! Another three bells -gone, my silks and laces, and we had given you to the sharks." - -The man hung his lanthorn to a hook on the beam, and thrust a case-bottle -of rum toward me, at the same time biting off a great quid of tobacco. -For all my alarm I saw that his manner was not unkindly, and as I was -conscious of a consuming thirst I seized and tipped it eagerly. - -"'Tis no fine Madeira, my blood," said he, "such as I fancy your palate -is acquainted with. Yet 'tis as fair a Jamaica as ever Griggs put ashore -i' the dark." - -"Griggs!" I cried, the whole affair coming to me: Griggs, Upper -Marlboro', South River, Grafton and the rector plotting in the stalls, -and Mr. Silas Ridgeway the accomplice. - -"Ay, Griggs," replied he; "ye may well repeat it, the -------, I'll lay a -puncheon he'll be hailing you shortly. Guinea Griggs, Gold-Coast Griggs, -Smuggler Griggs, Skull-and-Bones Griggs. Damn his soul and eyes, he hath -sent to damnation many a ship's company." - -He drained what remained of the bottle, took down the lanthorn, and left -me sufficiently terrified to reflect upon my situation, which I found -desperate enough, my dears. I have no words to describe what I went -through in that vile, foul-smelling place. My tears flowed fast when I -thought of my grandfather and of the dear friends I had left behind, and -of Dorothy, whom I never hoped to see again. And then, perchance 'twas -the rum put heart into me, I vowed I would face the matter show this cut- -throat of a Griggs a bold front. Had he meant to murder me, I reflected, -he had done the business long since. Then I fell asleep. - -I awoke, I know not how soon, to discover the same shaggy countenance, -and the lanthorn. - -"Canst walk, Mechlin?" says he. - -"I can try, at least," I answered. - -He seemed pleased at this. - -"You have courage a-plenty, and, by G--, you will have need of it all -with that of a Griggs!" He gave me his bottle again, and assisted me -down, and I found that my legs, save for the rocking of the ship, were -steady enough. I followed him out of the hole in which I had lain on to -a deck, which, in the half light, I saw covered with slush and filth. It -was small, and but dimly illuminated by a hatchway, up the which I pushed -after him, and then another. And so we came to the light of day, which -near blinded me: so that I was fain to clap my hand to mine eyes, and -stood for a space looking about me like a man dazed. The wind, tho' -blowing stiff, was mild, and league after league of the green sea danced -and foamed in the morning sunlight, and I perceived that I was on a large -schooner under full sail, the crew of which were littered about at -different occupations. Some gaming and some drinking, while on the -forecastle two men were settling a dispute at fisticuffs. And they gave -me no more notice, nor as much, than I had been a baboon thrust among -them. From this indifference to a captive I augured no good. Then my -conductor, whom I rightly judged to be the mate of this devil's crew, -took me roughly by the shoulder and bade me accompany him to the cabin. - -As we drew near the topgallant poop there sounded in my ears a noise like -a tempest, which I soon became aware was a man swearing with a prodigious -vehemence in a fog-horn of a voice. "Sdeath and wounds! Where is that -dog-fish of a Cockle? Damn his entrails, and he is not come soon, I'll -mast-head him naked, by the seven holy spritsails!" And much more and -worse to the same tune until we passed the door and stood before him, -when he let out an oath like the death-cry of a monster. - -He was a short, lean man with a leathery face and long, black ropy hair, -and beady black eyes that caught the light like a cat's. His looks, -indeed, would have scared a timid person into a fit; but I resolved I -would die rather than show the fear with which he inspired me. He was -dressed in an old navy uniform with dirty lace. His cabin was bare -enough, being scattered about with pistols and muskets and cutlasses, -with a ragged pallet in one corner, and he sat behind an oaken table -covered with greasy charts and spilled liquor and tobacco. - -"So ho, you are risen from the dead, are you, my fine buck? Mr. What-do- -they-call-you?" cried the captain, with a word as foul as any he had yet -uttered. "By the Lord, you shall pay for running my bosun through!" - -"And by the Lord, Captain What's-your-name," I cried back, for the rum I -had taken had heated me, "you and your fellow-rascals shall pay in blood -for this villanous injury!" - -Griggs got to his feet and seized his hanger, his face like livid marble -seamed with blue. And from force of habit I made motion for my sword, to -make the shameful discovery that I was clothed from head to foot in -linsey-woolsey. - -"G-d--- my soul," he roared, "if I don't slit you like a herring! -The devil burn me to a cinder if I don't give your guts to the sharks! -"And he made at me in such a fury that I would certainly have been cut to -pieces had I not grasped a cutlass and parried his blow, Cockle looking -on with his jaw dropped like a peak without haulyards. With a stroke of -my weapon I disarmed Captain Griggs, his sword flying through the cabin -window. For I made up my mind I would better die fighting than expire at -a hideous torture, which I doubted not he would inflict, and so I took up -a posture of defence, with one eye on the mate; despite the kind offices -of the latter below I knew not whether he were disposed to befriend me -before the captain. What was my astonishment, therefore, to behold -Griggs's truculent manner change. - -"Avast, my man-o-war," he cried; "blood and wounds! I had more than an -eye when they brought thee aboard, else I would have killed thee like a -sucking-pig under the forecastle, as I have given oath to do. By the -Ghost, you are worth seven of that Roger Spratt whom you sent to hell in -his boots." - -Wherewith Cockle, who for all his terrible appearance stood in a mighty -awe of his captain, set up a loud laugh, and vowed that Griggs knew a man -when he spared me, and was cursed for his pains. - -"So you were contracted to murder me, Captain Griggs?" said I. - -"Ay," he replied, a devilish gleam coming into his eye, "but I have now -got you and the money to boot. But harkye, I'll stand by my half of the -bargain, by G--. If ever you reach Maryland alive, they may hang me to -the yardarm of a ship-of-the-line." - -And I live long enough, my dears, I hope some day to write for you the -account of all that befell me on this slaver, Black Moll, for so she was -called. 'Twould but delay my story now. Suffice it to say that we -sailed for a fortnight or so in the West India seas. From some -observations that fell from the mouth of Griggs I gathered that he was -searching for an island which evaded him; and each day added to his -vexation at not finding it. At times he was drunk for forty hours at a -stretch, when he would shut himself in his cabin and leave his ship to -the care of Cockle, who navigated with the sober portion of the crew. -And such a lousy, brawling lot of convicts I had never clapped eyes upon. -As for me, I was treated indifferently well, though 'twas in truth -punishment enough to live in that filthy ship, to eat their shins of beef -and briny pork and wormy biscuit, to wear rough clothes that chafed my -skin. I shared Cockle's cabin, in every way as dirty a place as the den -I had left, but with the advantage of air, for which I fervently thanked -God. - -I think the mate had some little friendship for me, though he was too -hardened by the life he had led to care a deal what became of me. He -encouraged me secretly to continue to beard Griggs as I had begun, saying -that it was my sole chance of a whole skin, and vowing that if he had had -the courage to pursue the same course his own back had not been checkered -like a grating. He told me stories of the captain's cruelty which I dare -not repeat for their very horror, and indeed I lacked not for instances -to substantiate what he said; men with their backs beaten to a pulp, and -others with ears cut off, and mouths slit, and toes missing. So that I -lived in hourly fear lest in some drunken fit Griggs might command me to -be tortured. But, fortunately, he held small converse with me, and when -sober busied himself in trying to find the island and in cursing the fate -by which it eluded him. - -So I existed, and prayed daily for deliverance. I plied Cockle with -questions as to what they purposed doing with me, but he was wont to turn -sulky, and would answer me not a word. But once, when he was deeper in -his cups than common, he let me know that Griggs was to sell me to a -certain planter. You may well believe that this did not serve to liven -my spirits. - -At length, one morning, Captain Griggs came out of his cabin and climbed -upon the poop, calling all hands aft to the quarterdeck. Whereupon he -proceeded to make them a speech that for vileness exceeded aught I have -ever heard before or since. He finished by reminding them that this was -the anniversary of the scuttling of the sloop Jane, which had made them -all rich a year before, off the Canaries; the day that he had sent three -and twenty men over the plank to hell. Wherefore he decreed a holiday, -as the weather was bright and the trades light, and would serve quadruple -portions of rum to every man jack aboard; and they set up a cheer that -started the Mother Careys astern. - -I have no language to depict the bestiality of that day; and if I had I -would think it sin to write of it. The helm was lashed on the port tack, -the haulyards set taut, and all hands down to the lad who was the cook's -scullion proceeded to get drunk. I took the precaution to have a hanger -at my side and to slip one of Cockle's pistols within the band of my -breeches. I was in an exquisite' agony of indecision as to what manner -to act and how to defend myself from their drunken brutality, for I well -knew that if I refused to imbibe with them I should probably be murdered -for my abstemiousness; and, if I drank, the stuff was so near to alcohol -that I could not hope to keep my senses. While in this predicament I -received a polite invitation to partake in the captain's company, which I -did not see my way clear to refuse, and repaired to the cabin -accordingly. - -There I found Griggs and Cockle seated, and a fair-sized barrel of rum -between them that the captain had just moved thither. By way of welcome -he shot at me a volley of curses and bade me to fill up, and through fear -of offending him I took down my first mug with a fair good grace. Then, -in his own particular language, he began the account of the capture of -the Jane, taking care in the pauses to see that my mug was full. But, as -luck would have it, he got no farther than the boarding by the Black -Moll's crew, when he fell to squabbling with Cockle as to who had been -the first man over the side; and while they were settling this difference -I grasped the opportunity to escape. - -The maudlin scene that met my eyes on deck defies description; some were -fighting, others grinning with a hideous laughter, and still others -shouting tavern jokes unspeakable. And suddenly, whilst I was observing -these things from a niche behind the cabin door, I heard the captain cry -from within, "The ensign, the ensign!" Forgetting his dispute with -Cockle, he bumped past me and made his way with some trouble to the poop. -I climbed the ladder after him, and to my horror beheld him in a drunken -frenzy drag a black flag with a rudely painted skull and cross-bones from -the signal-chest, and with uncertain fingers toggle it to the ensign -haulyards and hoist to the peak, where it fluttered grimly in the light -wind like an evil augur on a fair day. At sight of it the wretches on -deck fell to shouting and huzzaing, Griggs standing leering up at it. -Then he gravely pulled off his hat and made it a bow, and turned upon me. - -"Salute it, ye lubberly! Ye are no first-rate here," he thundered. -"Salute the flag!" - -Unless fear had kept me sober, 'tis past my understanding why I was not -as drunk as he. Be that as it may, I was near as quarrelsome, and would -as soon have worshipped the golden calf as saluted that rag. I flung -back some reply, and he lugged out and came at me with a spring like a -wild beast; and his men below, seeing us fall out, made a rush for the -poop with knives and cutlasses drawn. Betwixt them all I should soon -have been in slivers had not the main shrouds offered themselves handy. -And up them I sprung, the captain cutting at my legs as I left the sheer- -pole, and I stopped not until I reached the schooner's cross-trees, where -I drew my cutlass. They pranced around the mast and showered me with -oaths, for all the world like a lot of howling dogs which had treed a -cat. - -I began to feel somewhat easier, and cried aloud that the first of them -who came up after me would go down again in two pieces. Despite my -warning a brace essayed to climb the ratlines, as pitiable an attempt as -ever I witnessed, and fell to the deck again. 'Twas a miracle that they -missed falling into the sea. And after a while, becoming convinced that -they could not get at me, and being too far gone to shoot with any -accuracy, they tumbled off the poop swearing to serve me in a hundred -horrible ways when they caught me, and fell again to drinking and -quarrelling amongst themselves. I was indeed in an unenviable plight, -by no means sure that I would not be slain out of hand when they became -sufficiently sober to capture me. As I marked the progress of their -damnable orgy I cast about for some plan to take advantage of their -condition. I observed that a stupor was already beginning to overcome a -few of them. Then suddenly an incident happened to drive all else from -my mind. - -Nothing less, my dears, than a white speck of sail gleaming on the -southern horizon! - -For an hour I watched it, now in a shiver of apprehension lest it pass us -by, now weeping in an ecstasy of joy over a possible deliverance. But it -grew steadily larger, and when about three miles on our port bow I saw -that the ship was a brigantine. Though she had long been in sight from -our deck, 'twas not until now that she was made out by a man on the -forecastle, who set up a cry that brought about him all who could reel -thither, Griggs staggering out of his cabin and to the nettings. The -sight sobered him somewhat, for he immediately shouted orders to cast -loose the guns, himself tearing the breeching from the nine-pounder next -him and taking out the tompion. About half the crew were in a liquorish -stupor from which the trump itself could scarce have aroused them; the -rest responded with savage oaths, swore that they would boil their -suppers in the blood of the brigantine's men and give their corpses to -the sea. They fell to work on the port battery in so ludicrous a manner -that I was fain to laugh despite the gravity of the situation. But when -they came to rig the powderhoist and a couple of them descended into the -magazine with pipes lighted, I was in imminent expectation of being blown -as high as a kite. - -So absorbed had I been in these preparations that I neglected to watch -the brigantine, which I discovered to be standing on and off in a very -undecided manner, as though hesitating to attack. My spirits fell again -at this, for with all my inexperience I knew her to be a better sailer -than the Black Moll. Her master, as Griggs remarked, "was no d--d -slouching lubber, and knew a yardarm from a rattan cane." - -Finally, about six bells of the watch, the stranger wore ship and bore -down across our bows, hoisting English colours, at sight of which I could -scarce forbear a cheer. At this instant, Captain Griggs woke to the fact -that his helm was still lashed, and bestowing a hearty kick on his -prostrate quartermaster stuck fast to the pitchy seams of the deck, took -the wheel himself, and easing off before the wind to bring the vessels -broadside to broadside, commanded that the guns be shooed to the muzzle, -an order that was barely executed before the brigantine came within close -range. Aboard her was all order and readiness; the men at her guns fuse -in hand, an erect and pompous figure of a man, in a cocked hat, on the -break of her poop. He raised his hand, two puffs of white smoke darted -out, and I heard first the shrieking of shot, the broadside came -crashing round us, one tearing through the mainsail below me, another -mangling two men in the waist of our schooner, and Griggs gave the order -to touch off. But two of his guns answered, one of which had been so -gorged with shot that it burst in a hundred pieces and sent the fellow -with the swab to perdition, and such a hell of blood and confusion as -resulted is indescribable. I saw Griggs in a wild fit of rage force the -helm down, the schooner flying into the wind. And by this time, the -brigantine having got round and presented her port battery, raked us at a -bare hundred yards, and I was the first to guess by the tilting forward -of the mast that our hull was hit between wind and water, and was fast -settling by the bow. - -The schooner was sinking like a gallipot. - -That day, with the sea flashing blue and white in the sun, I saw men go -to death with a curse upon their lips and a fever in their eyes, with -murder and defiance of God's holy will in their hearts. Overtaken in -bestiality, like the judgment of Nineveh, five and twenty disappeared -from beneath me, and I had scarce the time to throw off my cutlass before -I, too, was engulfed. So expired the Black Moll. - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - -Volume 4. - - -XIX. A Man of Destiny -XX. A Sad Home-coming -XXI. The Gardener's Cottage -XXII. On the Road -XXIII. London Town -XXIV. Castle Yard -XXV. The Rescue - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A MAN OF DESTINY - -I was picked up and thrown into the brigantine's long-boat with a head -and stomach full of salt water, and a heart as light as spray with the -joy of it all. A big, red-bearded man lifted my heels to drain me. - -"The mon's deid," said he. - -"Dead!" cried I, from the bottom-board. "No more dead than you!" - -I turned over so lustily that he dropped my feet, and I sat up, something -to his consternation. And they had scarce hooked the ship's side when I -sprang up the sea-ladder, to the great gaping of the boat's crew, and -stood with the water running off me in rivulets before the captain -himself. I shall never forget the look of his face as he regarded my -sorry figure. - -"Now by Saint Andrew," exclaimed he, "are ye kelpie or pirate?" - -"Neither, captain," I replied, smiling as the comical end of it came up -to me, "but a young gentleman in misfortune." - -"Hoots!" says he, frowning at the grinning half-circle about us, "it's -daft ye are--" - -But there he paused, and took of me a second sizing. How he got at my -birth behind my tangled mat of hair and wringing linsey-woolsey I know -not to this day. But he dropped his Scotch and merchant-captain's -manner, and was suddenly a French courtier, making me a bow that had done -credit to a Richelieu. - -"Your servant, Mr.--" - -"Richard Carvel, of Carvel Hall, in his Majesty's province of Maryland." - -He seemed sufficiently impressed. - -"Your very humble servant, Mr. Carvel. 'Tis in faith a privilege to be -able to serve a gentleman." - -He bowed me toward his cabin, and then in sharp, quick tones he gave an -order to his mate to get under way, and I saw the men turning to the -braces with wonder in their eyes. My own astonishment was as great. And -so, with my clothes sucking to my body and a trail of water behind me -like that of a wet walrus, I accompanied the captain aft. His quarters -were indeed a contrast to those of Griggs, being so neat that I paused at -the door for fear of profaning them; but was so courteously bid to enter -that I came on again. He summoned a boy from the round house. - -"William," said he, "a bottle of my French brandy. And my compliments to -Mr. MacMuir, and ask him for a suit of clothes. You are a larger man -than I, Mr. Carvel," he said to me, "or I would fit you out according to -your station." - -I was too overwhelmed to speak. He poured out a liberal three fingers of -brandy, and pledged me as handsomely as I had been an admiral come -thither in mine own barge, instead of a ragged lad picked off a piratical -slaver, with nothing save my bare word and address. 'Twas then I had -space to note him more particularly. His skin was the rich colour of a -well-seasoned ship's bell, and he was of the middle height, owned a -slight, graceful figure, tapering down at the waist like a top, which had -set off a silk coat to perfection and soured the beaus with envy. His -movements, however, had all the decision of a man of action and of force. -But his eye it was took possession of me--an unfathomable, dark eye, -which bore more toward melancholy than sternness, and yet had something -of both. He wore a clean, ruffled shirt, an exceeding neat coat and -breeches of blue broadcloth, with plate burnished buttons, and white -cotton stockings. Truly, this was a person to make one look twice, and -think oftener. Then, as I went to pledge him, I, too, was caught for his -name. - -"Paul," said he; "John Paul, of the brigantine John, of Kirkcudbright, in -the West India trade." - -"Captain Paul--" I began. But my gratitude stuck fast in my throat and -flowed out of my eyes. For the thought of the horrors from which he had -saved me for the first time swept over me; his own kind treatment -overcame me, and I blubbered like a child. With that he turned his back. - -"Hoots," says he, again, "dinna ye thank me. 'Tis naething to scuttle a -nest of vermin, but the duty of ilka man who sails the seas." By this, -having got the better of his emotion, he added: "And if it has been my -good fortune to save a gentleman, Mr. Carvel, I thank God for it, as you -must." - -Save for a slackness inside the leg and in the hips, Macbluir's clothes -fitted me well enough, and presently I reappeared in the captain's cabin -rigged out in the mate's shore suit of purplish drab, and brass-buckled -shoes that came high over the instep, with my hair combed clear and tied -with a ribbon behind. I felt at last that I might lay some claim to -respectability. And what was my surprise to find Captain Paul buried to -his middle in a great chest, and the place strewn about with laced and -broidered coats and waistcoats, frocks and Newmarkets, like any tailor's -shop in Church Street. So strange they looked in those tropical seas -that he was near to catching me in a laugh as he straightened up. 'Twas -then I noted that he was a younger man than I had taken him for. - -"You gentlemen from the southern colonies are too well nourished, by -far," says he; "you are apt to be large of chest and limb. 'Odds bods, -Mr. Carvel, it grieves me to see you apparelled like a barber surgeon. -If the good Lord had but made you smaller, now," and he sighed, "how well -this skyblue frock had set you off." - -"Indeed, I am content, and more, captain," I replied with a smile, -"and thankful to be safe amongst friends. Never, I assure you, -have I had less desire for finery." - -"Ay," said he, "you may well say that, you who have worn silk all your -life, and will the rest of it, and we get safe to port. But believe me, -sir, the pleasure of seeing one of your face and figure in such a coat as -that would not be a small one." - -And disregarding my blushes and protests, he held up the watchet blue -frock against me, and it was near fitting me but for my breadth,--the -skirts being prodigiously long. I wondered mightily what tailor had -thrust this garment upon him; its fashion was of the old king's time, -the cuffs slashed like a sea-officer's uniform, and the shoulders made -carefully round. But other thoughts were running within me then. - -"Captain," I cut in, "you are sailing eastward." - -"Yes, yes," he answered absently, fingering some Point d'Espagne. - -"There is no chance of touching in the colonies?" I persisted. - -"Colonies! No," said he, in the same abstraction; "I am making for the -Solway, being long overdue. But what think you of this, Mr. Carvel?" - -And he held up a wondrous vellum-hole waistcoat of a gone-by vintage, -and I saw how futile it were to attempt to lead him, while in that state -of absorption, to topics which touched my affair. Of a sudden the -significance of what he had said crept over me, the word Solway repeating -itself in my mind. That firth bordered England itself, and Dorothy was -in London! I became reconciled. I had no particle of objection to the -Solway save the uneasiness my grandfather would come through, which was -beyond helping. Fate had ordered things well. - -Then I fell to applauding, while the captain tried on (for he was not -content with holding up) another frock of white drab, which, cuffs and -pockets, I'll take my oath mounted no less than twenty-four: another -plain one of pink cut-velvet; tail-coats of silk, heavily broidered with -flowers, and satin waistcoats with narrow lace. He took an inconceivable -enjoyment out of this parade, discoursing the while, like a nobleman with -nothing but dress in his head, or, perhaps, like a mastercutter, about -the turn of this or that lapel, the length from armpit to fold, and the -number of button-holes that was proper. And finally he exhibited with -evident pride a pair of doeskins that buttoned over the calf to be worn -with high shoes, which I make sure he would have tried on likewise had he -been offered the slightest encouragement. So he exploited the whole of -his wardrobe, such an unlucky assortment of finery as I never wish to see -again; all of which, however, became him marvellously, though I think he -had looked well in anything. I hope I may be forgiven the perjury I did -that day. I wondered greatly that such a foible should crop out in a man -of otherwise sound sense and plain ability. - -At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had -exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned -to me as a man come out of a trance. - -"Od's fish, Mr. Carvel," he cried, "you will be starved. I had forgot -your state." - -I owned that hunger had nigh overcome me, whereupon he became very -solicitous, bade the boy bring in supper at once, and in a short time we -sat down together to the best meal I had seen for a month. It seemed -like a year. Porridge, and bacon nicely done, and duff and ale, with the -sea rushing past the cabin windows as we ate, touched into colour by the -setting sun. Captain Paul did not mess with his mates, not he, and he -gave me to understand that I was to share his cabin, apologizing -profusely for what he was pleased to call poor fare. He would have -it that he, and not I, were receiving favour. - -"My dear sir," he said once, "you cannot know what a bit of finery is to -me, who has so little chance for the wearing of it. To discuss with a -gentleman, a connoisseur (I know a bit of French, Mr. Carvel), is a -pleasure I do not often come at." - -His simplicity in this touched me; it was pathetic. - -"How know you I am a gentleman, Captain Paul?" I asked curiously. - -"I should lack discernment, sir," he retorted, with some heat, "if I -could not see as much. Breeding shines through sack-cloth, sir. -Besides," he continued, in a milder tone, "the look of you is candour -itself. Though I have not greatly the advantage of you in age, I have -seen many men, and I know that such a face as yours cannot lie." - -Here Mr. Lowrie, the second mate, came in with a report; and I remarked -that he stood up hat in hand whilst making it, very much as if Captain -Paul commanded a frigate. The captain went to a locker and brought forth -some mellow Madeira, and after the mate had taken a glass of it standing, -he withdrew. Then we lighted pipes and sat very cosey with a lanthorn -swung between us, and Captain Paul expressed a wish to hear my story. - -I gave him my early history briefly, dwelling but casually upon the -position enjoyed in Maryland by my family; but I spoke of my grandfather, -now turning seventy, gray-haired in the service of King and province. -The captain was indeed a most sympathetic listener, now throwing in a -question showing keen Scotch penetration, and anon making a most -ludicrous inquiry as to the dress livery our footmen wore, and whether -Mr. Carvel used outriders when he travelled abroad. This was the other -side of the man. As the wine warmed and the pipe soothed, I spoke at -length of Grafton and the rector; and when I came to the wretched -contrivance by which they got me aboard the Black Moll, he was stalking -hither and thither about the cabin, his fists clenched and his voice -thick, breaking into Scotch again and vowing that hell were too good for -such as they. - -His indignation, which seemed real and generous, transformed him into -another man. He showered question after question upon me concerning my -uncle and Mr. Allen; declared that he had known many villains, but had -yet to hear of their equals; and finally, cooling a little, gave it as -his judgment that the crime could never be brought home to them. This -was my own opinion. He advised me, before we turned in, to "gie the -parson a Grunt" as soon as ever I could lay hands upon him. - - -The John made a good voyage for that season, with fair winds and clear -skies for the most part. 'Twas a stout ship and a steady, with generous -breadth of beam, and kept by the master as clean and bright as his -porringer. He was Emperor aboard her. He spelt Command with a large C, -and when he inspected, his jacks stood to attention like man-o'-war's -men. The John mounting only four guns, and but two of them ninepounders, -I expressed my astonishment that he had dared attack a pirate craft like -the Black Moll, without knowing her condition and armament. - -"Richard," says he, impressively, for we had become very friendly, "I -would close with a thirty-two and she flew that flag. Why, sir, a bold -front is half the battle, using circumspection, of a course. A pretty -woman, whatever her airs and quality, is to be carried the same way, and -a man ought never to be frightened by appearances." - -Sometimes, at our meals, we discussed politics. But he seemed lukewarm -upon this subject. He had told me that he had a brother William in -Virginia, who was a hot Patriot. The American quarrel seemed to interest -him very little. I should like to underscore this last sentence, my -dears, in view of what comes after. What he said on the topic leaned -perhaps to the King's side, tho' he was careful to say nothing that would -give me offence. I was not surprised, for I had made a fair guess of his -ambitions. It is only honest to declare that in my soberer moments my -estimate of his character suffered. But he was a strange man,--a genius, -as I soon discovered, to rouse the most sluggish nature to enthusiasm. - -The joy of sailing is born into some men, and those who are marked for -the sea go down thither like the very streams, to be salted. Whatever -the sign, old Stanwix was not far wrong when he read it upon me, and -'twas no great while before I was part and parcel of the ship beneath my -feet, breathing deep with her every motion. What feeling can compare -with that I tasted when the brigantine lay on her side, the silver spray -hurling over the bulwarks and stinging me to life! Or, in the watches, -to hear the sea lashing along her strakes in never ending music! I gave -MacMuir his shore suit again, and hugely delighted and astonished Captain -Paul by donning a jacket of Scotch wool and a pair of seaman's boots, and -so became a sailor myself. I had no mind to sit idle the passage, and -the love of it, as I have said, was in me. In a fortnight I went aloft -with the best of the watch to reef topsails, and trod a foot-rope without -losing head or balance, bent an easing, and could lay hand on any lift, -brace, sheet, or haulyards in the racks. John Paul himself taught me to -tack and wear ship, and MacMuir to stow a headsail. The craft came to -me, as it were, in a hand-gallop. - -At first I could make nothing of the crew, not being able to understand a -word of their Scotch; but I remarked, from the first, that they were sour -and sulky, and given to gathering in knots when the captain or MacMuir -had not the deck. For Mr. Lowrie, poor man, they had little respect. -But they plainly feared the first mate, and John Paul most of all. Of me -their suspicion knew no bounds, and they would give me gruff answers, or -none, when I spoke to them. These things roused both curiosity and -foreboding within me. - -Many a watch I paced thro' with MacMuir, big and red and kindly, and I -was not long in letting him know of the interest which Captain Paul had -inspired within me. His own feeling for him was little short of -idolatry. I had surmised much as to the rank of life from which the -captain had sprung, but my astonishment was great when I was told that -John Paul was the son of a poor gardener. - -"A gardener's son, Mr. MacMuir!" I repeated. - -"Just that," said he, solemnly, "a guid man an' haly' was auld Paul. -Unco puir, by reason o' seven bairns. I kennt the daddie weel. I mak -sma' doubt the captain'll tak ye hame wi' him, syne the mither an' -sisters still be i' the cot i' Mr. Craik's croft." - -"Tell me, MacMuir," said I, "is not the captain in some trouble?" - -For I knew that something, whatever it was, hung heavy on John Paul's -mind as we drew nearer Scotland. At times his brow would cloud and he -would fall silent in the midst of a jest. And that night, with the stars -jumping and the air biting cold (for we were up in the 40's), and the -John wish-washing through the seas at three leagues the hour, MacMuir -told me the story of Mungo Maxwell. You may read it for yourselves, my -dears, in the life of John Paul Jones. - -"Wae's me!" he said, with a heave of his big chest, "I reca' as yestreen -the night Maxwell cam aboord. The sun gaed loon a' bluidy, an' belyve -the morn rose unco mirk an' dreary, wi' bullers(rollers) frae the west -like muckle sowthers(soldiers) wi' white plumes. I tauld the captain -'twas a' the faut o' Maxwell. I ne'er cad bide the blellum. Dour an' -din he was, wi' ae girn like th' auld hornie. But the captain wadna -hark to my rede when I tauld him naught but dool wad cooin o' taking -Mungo." - -It seemed that John Paul, contrary to MacMuir'sadvice, had shipped as -carpenter on the voyage out--near seven months since--a man by the name -of Mungo Maxwell. The captain's motive had nothing in it but kindness, -and a laudable desire to do a good turn to a playmate of his boyhood. As -MacMuir said, "they had gaed barefit thegither amang the braes." The man -hailed from Kirkbean, John Paul's own parish. But he had within him -little of the milk of kindness, being in truth a sour and mutinous devil; -and instead of the gratitude he might have shown, he cursed the fate that -had placed him under the gardener's son, whom he deemed no better than -himself. The John had scarce cleared the Solway before Maxwell showed -signs of impudence and rebellion. - -The crew was three-fourths made of Kirkcudbright men who had known the -master from childhood, many of them, indeed, being older than he; they -were mostly jealous of Paul, envious of the command he had attained to -over them, and impatient under the discipline he was ever ready to -inflict. 'Tis no light task to enforce obedience from those with whom -one has birdnested. But, having more than once felt the weight of his -hand, they feared him. - -Dissatisfaction among such spreads apace, if a leader is but given; and -Maxwell was such a one. His hatred for John Paul knew no bounds, and, -having once tasted of his displeasure, he lay awake o' nights scheming to -ruin him. And this was the plot: when the Azores should be in the wake, -Captain Paul was to be murdered as he paced his quarterdeck in the -morning, the two mates clapt into irons, and so brought to submission. -And Maxwell, who had no more notion of navigation than a carpenter -should, was to take the John to God knows where,--the Guinea coast, -most probably. He would have no more navy regulations on a merchant -brigantine, he promised them, nor banyan days, for the matter o' that. - -Happily, MacMuir himself discovered the affair on the eve of its -perpetration, overhearing two men talking in the breadroom, and he ran to -the cabin with the sweat standing out on his forehead. But the captain -would have none of the precautions he urged; declared he would walk the -deck as usual, and vowed he could cope single-handed with a dozen cowards -like Maxwell. Sure enough, at crowdie-time, the men were seen coming -aft, with Maxwell in the van carrying a bowl, on the pretext of a -complaint against the cook. - -"John Paul," said MacMuir, with admiration in his voice and gesture, -"John Paul wasna feart a pickle, but gaed to the mast, whyles I stannt -chittering i' my claes, fearfu' for his life. He teuk the horns from -Mungo, priet(tasted) a soup o' the crowdie, an' wi' that he seiz't haut -o' the man by baith shouthers ere the blastie(scoundrel) raught for 's -knife. My aith upo't, sir, the lave(rest) o' the batch cowert frae his -e'e for a' the wand like thumpit tykes.'" - -So ended that mutiny, by the brave act of a brave man. The carpenter was -clapt into irons himself, and given no less of the cat-o'-nine-tails than -was good for him, and properly discharged at Tobago with such as had -supported him. But he brought Captain Paul before the vice-admiralty -court of that place, charging him with gross cruelty, and this proceeding -had delayed the brigantine six months from her homeward voyage, to the -great loss of her owners. And tho' at length the captain was handsomely -acquitted, his character suffered unjustly, for there lacked not those -who put their own interpretation upon the affair. He would most probably -lose the brigantine. "He expected as much," said MacMuir. - -"There be mony aboord," he concluded, with a sigh, "as'll muckle -gash(gossip) when we win to Kirkcudbright." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -A SAD HOME-COMING - -Mr. Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, the Dumfries bo'sun, both of whom would -have died for the captain, assured me of the truth of MacMuir's story, -and shook their heads gravely as to the probable outcome. The peculiar -water-mark of greatness that is woven into some men is often enough to -set their own community bitter against them. Sandie, the plodding -peasant, finds it a hard matter to forgive Jamie, who is taken from the -plough next to his, and ends in Parliament. The affair of Mungo Maxwell, -altered to suit, had already made its way on more than one vessel to -Scotland. For according to Lowrie, there was scarce a man or woman in -Kirkcudbrightshire who did not know that John Paul was master of the -John, and (in their hearts) that he would be master of more in days to -come. Human nature is such that they resented it, and cried out aloud -against his cruelty. - -On the voyage I had many sober thoughts of my own to occupy me of the -terrible fate, from which, by Divine inter position, I had been rescued; -of the home I had left behind. I was all that remained to Mr. Carvel in -the world, and I was sure that he had given me up for dead. How had he -sustained the shock? I saw him heavily mounting the stairs upon Scipicks -arm when first the news was brought to him. Next Grafton would come -hurrying in from Kent to Marlboro Street, disavowing all knowledge of the -messenger from New York, and intent only upon comforting his father. And -when I pictured my uncle soothing him to his face, and grinning behind -his bed-curtains, my anger would scald me, and the realization of my -helplessness bring tears of very bitterness. - -What would I not have given then for one word with that honest and -faithful friend of our family, Captain Daniel! I knew that he suspected -Grafton: he had told me as much that night at the Coffee House. Perhaps -the greatest of my fears was that my uncle would deny him access to Mr. -Carvel when he returned from the North. - -In the evening, when the sun settled red upon the horizon, I would think -of Patty and my friends in Gloucester Street. For I knew they missed me -sadly of a Sunday at the suppertable. But it has ever been my nature to -turn forward instead of back, and to accept the twists and flings of -fortune with hope rather than with discouragement. And so, as we left -league after, league of the blue ocean behind us, I would set my face to -the forecastle. For Dorothy was in England. - -On a dazzling morning in March, with the brigantine running like a beagle -in full cry before a heaping sea that swayed her body,--so I beheld for -the first time the misty green of the high shores of Ireland. Ah! of -what heroes' deeds was I capable as I watched the lines come out in bold -relief from a wonderland of cloud! With what eternal life I seemed to -tingle! 'Twas as though I, Richard Carvel, had discovered all this -colour; and when a tiny white speck of a cottage came out on the edge of -the cliff, I thought irresistibly of the joy to live there the year round -with Dorothy, with the wind whistling about our gables, and the sea -thundering on the rocks far below. Youth is in truth a mystery. - -How long I was gazing at the shifting coast I know not, for a strange -wildness was within me that made me forget all else, until suddenly I -became conscious of a presence at my side, and turned to behold the -captain. - -"'Tis a braw sight, Richard," said he, "but no sae bonnie as auld -Scotland. An' the wind hands, we shall see her shores the morn." - -His voice broke, and I looked again to see two great tears rolling upon -his cheeks. - -"Ah, Scotland!" he pressed on, heedless of them, "God aboon kens what -she is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie." And he -walked to the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men who had -come aft to splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. I -followed him, emboldened to speak at last what was in me. - -"Captain Paul," said I, "MacMuir has told me of your trouble. My -grandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,"--here I paused for -suitable words, as I could not solve his expression,--"you, sir, whose -bravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want for -friends and money." - -He heard me through. - -"Mr. Carvel," he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback, -"reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen." - -And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentioned -money. And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor less -than a master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the common -in such a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affection -for him been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I had -laughed over his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that when I -had reached London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should be -rewarded despite his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should have -one of my grandfather's. - -But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had more cause -than ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence and aloofness. -He talked gayly on a score of subjects,--on dress, of which he was never -tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America, in a fashion -that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nor did he lack for -wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had wined him, and had me much -in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth, jingling the glasses -in many toasts, for he had a list of healths to make me gasp, near as -long as the brigantine's articles,--Inez in Havana and Maraquita in -Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, each had her separate -charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relict of a customs -official, Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto a midnight brush -with a lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fair widow figured, and -showed her preference, too. But his adoration for the ladies of the more -northern colonies, he would have me to understand, was unbounded. For -example, Miss Arabella Pope of Norfolk, in Virginia,--and did I know her? -No, I had not that pleasure, though I assured him the Popes of Virginia -were famed. Miss Pope danced divinely as any sylph, and the very memory -of her tripping at the Norfolk Assembly roused the captain to such a -pitch of enthusiasm as I had never seen in him. Marvellous to say, his -own words failed him, and he had recourse to the poets: - - "Her feet beneath her petticoat - Like little mice stole in and out, - As if they feared the light; - But, oh, she dances such a way! - No sun upon an Easter-day - Is half so fine a sight." - -The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave them -standing, in excellent voice and elegant gesture. - -He was in particular partial to the poets, could quote at will from Gay -and Thomson and Goldsmith and Gray, and even from Shakespeare, much to my -own astonishment and humiliation. Saving only Dr. Courtenay of Annapolis -I had never met his equal for versatility of speech and command of fine -language; and, having heard that he had been at sea since the age of -twelve, I made bold to ask him at what school he had got his knowledge. - -"At none, Richard," he answered with pride, "saving the rudiments at the -Parish School at Kirkbean. Why, sir, I hold it to be within every man's -province to make himself what he will, and I early recognized in Learning -the only guide for such as me. I may say that I married her for the -furtherance of my fortunes, and have come to love her for her own sake. -Many and many the 'tween-watch have I passed in a coil of rope in the -tops, a volume of the classics in my hand. And 'my happiest days, when -not at sea, have been spent in my brother William's little library. He -hath a modest estate near Fredericksburg, in Virginia, and none holds -higher than he the worth of an education. Ah, Richard," he added, with a -certain sadness, "I fear you little know the value of that which hath -been so lavishly bestowed upon you. There is no creation in the world to -equal your fine gentleman!" - -It struck me indeed as strange that a man of his powers should set store -by such trumpery, and, too, that these notions had not impaired his -ability as a seaman. I did not reply. He gave no heed, however, but -drew from a case a number of odes and compositions, which he told me were -his own. They were addressed to various of his enamouritas, abounded in -orrery, and were all, I make no doubt, incredibly fine, tho' not so much -as one sticks in my mind. To speak truth I listened with a very ill -grace, longing the while to be on deck, for we were about to sight the -Isle of Man. The wine and the air of the cabin had made my eyes heavy. -But presently, when he had run through with some dozen or more, he put -them by, and with a quick motion got from his chair, a light coming into -his dark eyes that startled me to attention. And I forgot the merchant -captain, and seemed to be looking forward into the years. - -"Mark you, Richard," said he, "mark well when I say that my time will -come, and a day when the best of them will bow to me. And every ell of -that triumph shall be mine, sir,-ay, every inch!" - -Such was his force, which sprang from some hidden fire within him, that -I believed his words as firmly as they had been writ down in the Book of -Isaiah. Brimming over with enthusiasm, I pledged his coming greatness in -a reaming glass of Malaga. - -"Alack," he cried, "an' they all had your faith, laddie, a fig for the -prophecy! Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle." - -There was more of wisdom in this than I dreamed of then. Here lay hid -the very keynote of that ambitious character: he stooped to nothing less -than greatness for a triumph over his slanderers. - -I rose betimes the next morning to find the sun peeping above the wavy -line of the Scottish hills far up the. Solway, and the brigantine -sliding smoothly along in the lee of the Galloway Rhinns. And, though -the month was March, the slopes of Burrow Head were green as the lawn of -Carvel Hall in May, and the slanting rays danced on the ruffed water. By -eight of the clock we had crept into Kirkcudbright Bay and anchored off -St. Mary's Isle, the tide running ebb, and leaving a wide brown belt of -sand behind it. - -St. Mary's Isle! As we looked upon it that day, John Paul and I, and it -lay low against the bright water with its bare oaks and chestnuts against -the dark pines, 'twas perhaps as well that the future was sealed to us. - -Captain Paul had conned the brigantine hither with a master's hand; but -now that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I had -donned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangway -when the captain approached me. - -"What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?" he asked kindly. - -What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent upon -my benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept any -return I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him again -for his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him I -should be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage to -London upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affection -for him having grown-past my understanding. - -"Hoots!" he replied, moved in his turn, "whyles I hae siller ye shallna -lack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station." - -And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me be -ready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewell to -MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For the -honest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speech -when he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it. - -"But you will be needing it, MacMuir," I said, suspecting he had no -other. - -"Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the claw -frae London, wi' this geordie." - -He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take; -and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into the -stern of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through the -little fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck for a -parting look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainly -shoulders over the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted a -hearty "God speed" after me. - -As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at the -mouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on the -wharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got within -twenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchief called -out: - -"What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?" - -"CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie," spoke up a coarse fellow with a rough -beard. And a laugh went round. - -"Ay, captain! I'll captain him!" screamed the carlin, pushing to the -front as the oars were tossed, "I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll be captaining -him for his towmond voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for ye noo, John -Paul." With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceiving that matters -were likely to go ill with the captain, began to chaff with their friends -above. The respect with which he had inspired them, however, prevented -any overt insult on their part. As for me, my temper had flared up like -the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by instinct my right hand -sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The beldame saw the motion. - -"An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin -gowk?" - -The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant violence,-- -nothing less. But they had counted without their man, for Paul was born -to ride greater crises. With his lips set in a line he stepped lightly -out of the boat into their very midst, and they looked into his eyes to -forget time and place. MacMuir had told me how those eyes could conquer -mutiny, but I had not believed had I trot been thereto see the pack of -them give back in sullen wonder. And so we walked through and on to the -little street beyond, and never a word from the captain until we came -opposite the sign of the Hurcheon." - -"Do you await me here, Richard," he said quite calmly; "I mast seek Mr. -Currie, and make my report." - -I have still the remembrance of that pitiful day in the clean little -village. I went into the inn and sat down upon an oak settle in a corner -of the bar, under the high lattice, and thought of the bitterness of this -home-coming. If I was amongst strangers, he was amongst worse: verily, -to have one's own people set against one is heaviness of heart to a man -whose love of Scotland was great as John Paul's. After a while the place -began to fill, Willie and Robbie and Jamie arriving to discuss Paul's -return over their nappy. The little I could make of their talk was not -to my liking, but for the captain's sake I kept my anger under as best I -could, for I had the sense to know that brawling with a lot of alehouse -frequenters would not advance his cause. At length, however, came in the -same sneering fellow I had marked on the wharf, calling loudly for swats. -"Ay, Captain Paul was noo at Mr. Curries, syne banie Alan seed him gang -forbye the kirk." The speaker's name, I learned, was Davie, and he had -been talking with each and every man in the long-boat. Yes, Mungo -Maxwell had been cat-o'-ninetailed within an inch of his life; and that -was the truth; for a trifling offence, too; and cruelly discharged at -some outlandish port because, forsooth, he would not accept the gospel -of the divinity of Captain Paul. He would as soon sign papers with the -devil. - -This Davie was gifted with a dangerous kind of humour which I have heard -called innuendo, and he soon had the bar packed with listeners who -laughed and cursed turn about, filling the room to a closeness scarce -supportable. And what between the foul air and my resentment, and -apprehension lest John Paul would come hither after me, I was in -prodigious discomfort of body and mind. But there was no pushing my way -through them unnoticed, wedged as I was in a far corner; so I sat still -until unfortunately, or fortunately, the eye of Davie chanced to fall -upon me, and immediately his yellow face lighted malignantly. - -"Oh! here be the gentleman the captain's brocht hame!" he cried, -emphasizing the two words; "as braw a gentleman as eer taen frae pirates, -an' nae doubt sin to ae bien Buckskin bonnet-laird." - -I saw through his game of getting satisfaction out of John Paul thro' -goading me, and determined he should have his fill of it. For, all in -all, he had me mad enough to fight three times over. - -"Set aside the gentleman," said I, standing up and taking off MacMuir's -coat, "and call me a lubberly clout like yourself, and we will see which -is the better clout." I put off the longsleeved jacket, and faced him -with my fists doubled, crying: "I'll teach you, you spawn of a dunghill, -to speak ill of a good man!" - -A clamour of "Fecht! fecht!" arose, and some of them applauded me, -calling me a "swankie," which I believe is a compliment. A certain sense -of fairness is often to be found where least expected. They capsized the -fat, protesting browsterwife over her own stool, and were pulling Jamie's -coat from his back, when I began to suspect that a fight was not to the -sniveller's liking. Indeed, the very look of him made me laugh out-- -'twas now as mild as a summer's morn. - -"Wow," says Jamie, "ye maun fecht wi' a man o' yere ain size." - -"I'll lay a guinea that we weigh even," said I; and suddenly remembered -that I had not so much as tuppence to bless me. - -Happily he did not accept the wager. In huge disgust they hustled him -from the inn and put forward the blacksmith, who was standing at the door -in his leather apron. Now I had not bargained with the smith, who seemed -a well-natured enough man, and grinned broadly at the prospect. But they -made a ring on the floor, I going over it at one end, and he at the -other, when a cry came from the street, those about the entrance parted, -and in walked John Paul himself. At sight of him my new adversary, who -was preparing to deal me out a blow to fell an ox, dropped his arms in -surprise, and held out his big hand. - -"Haith! John Paul," he shouted heartily, forgetting me, "'tis blythe I -am to see yere bonnie face ance mair! - -"An' wha are ye, Jamie Darrell," said the captain, "to be bangin' yere -betters? Dinna ye ken gentry when ye see't?" - -A puzzled look spread over the smith's grimy face. - -"Gentry!" says he; "nae gentry that I ken, John Paul. Th' fecht be but -a bit o' fun, an' nane o' my seekin'." - -"What quarrel is this, Richard?" says John Paul to me. - -"In truth I have no quarrel with this honest man," I replied; "I desired -but the pleasure of beating a certain evil-tongued Davie, who seems to -have no stomach for blows, and hath taken his lies elsewhere." - -So quiet was the place that the tinkle of the guidwife's needle, which -she had dropped to the flags, sounded clear to all. John Paul stood in -the middle of the ring, erect, like a man inspired, and the same strange -sense of prophecy that had stirred my blood crept over him and awed the -rest, as tho' 'twere suddenly given to see him, not as he was, but as he -would be. Then he spoke. - -"You, who are my countrymen, who should be my oldest and best friends, -are become my enemies. You who were companions of my childhood are -revilers of my manhood; you have robbed me of my good name and my honour, -of my ship, of my very means of livelihood, and you are not content; you -would rob me of my country, which I hold dearer than all. And I have -never done you evil, nor spoken aught against you. As for the man -Maxwell, whose part you take, his child is starving in your very midst, -and you have not lifted your hands. 'Twas for her sake I shipped him, -and none other. May God forgive you! He alone sees the bitterness in my -heart this day. He alone knows my love for Scotland, and what it costs -me to renounce her." - -He had said so much with an infinite sadness, and I read a response in -the eyes of more than one of his listeners, the guidwife weeping aloud. -But now his voice rose, and he ended with a fiery vigour. - -"Renounce her I do," he cried, "now and forevermore! Henceforth I am no -countryman of yours. And if a day of repentance should come for this -evil, remember well what I have said to you." - -They stood for a moment when he had finished, shifting uneasily, their -tongues gone, like lads caught in a lie. I think they felt his greatness -then, and had any one of them possessed the nobility to come forward with -an honest word, John Paul might yet have been saved to Scotland. As it -was, they slunk away in twos and threes, leaving at last only the good -smith with us. He was not a man of talk, and the tears had washed the -soot from his face in two white furrows. - -"Ye'll hae a waught wi' me afore ye gang, John," he said clumsily, "for -th' morns we've paddl' 't thegither i' th' Nith." - -The ale was brought by the guidwife, who paused, as she put it down, to -wipe her eyes with her apron. She gave John Paul one furtive glance and -betook herself again to her knitting with a sigh, speech having failed -her likewise. The captain grasped up his mug. - -"May God bless you, Jamie," he said. - -"Ye'll be gaen noo to see the mither," said Jamie, after a long space. - -"Ay, for the last time. An', Jamie, ye'll see that nae harm cams to her -when I'm far awa'?" - -The smith promised, and also agreed to have John Paul's chests sent by -wagon, that very day, to Dumfries. And we left him at his forge, his -honest breast torn with emotion, looking after us. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE GARDENER'S COTTAGE - -So we walked out of the village, with many a head craned after us and -many an eye peeping from behind a shutter, and on into the open highway. -The day was heavenly bright, the wind humming around us and playing mad -pranks with the white cotton clouds, and I forgot awhile the pity within -me to wonder at the orderly look of the country, the hedges with never a -stone out of place, and the bars always up. The ground was parcelled off -in such bits as to make me smile when I remembered our own wide tracts in -the New World. Here waste was sin: with us part and parcel of a creed. -I marvelled, too, at the primness and solidity of the houses along the -road, and remarked how their lines belonged rather to the landscape than -to themselves. But I was conscious ever of a strange wish to expand, for -I felt as tho' I were in the land of the Liliputians, and the thought of -a gallop of forty miles or so over these honeycombed fields brought me to -a laugh. But I was yet to see some estates of the gentry. - -I had it on my tongue's tip to ask the captain whither he was taking me, -yet dared not intrude on the sorrow that still gripped him. Time and -time we met people plodding along, some of them nodding uncertainly, -others abruptly taking the far side of the pike, and every encounter -drove the poison deeper into his soul. But after we had travelled some -way, up hill and down dale, he vouchsafed the intelligence that we were -making for Arbigland, Mr. Craik's seat near Dumfries, which lies on the -Nith twenty miles or so up the Solway from Kirkcudbright. On that estate -stood the cottage where John Paul was born, and where his mother and -sisters still dwelt. - -"I'll juist be saying guidbye, Richard," he said; "and leave them a bit -siller I hae saved, an' syne we'll be aff to London thegither, for -Scotland's no but a cauld kintra." - -"You are going to London with me?" I cried. - -"Ay," answered he; "this is hame nae mair for John Paul." - -I made bold to ask how the John's owners had treated him. - -"I have naught to complain of, laddie," he answered; "both Mr. Beck and -Mr. Currie bore the matter of the admiralty court and the delay like the -gentlemen they are. They well know that I am hard driven when I resort -to the lash. They were both sore at losing me, and says Mr. Beck: I -We'll not soon get another to keep the brigantine like a man-o'-war, as -did you, John Paul.' I thanked him, and told him I had sworn never to -take another merchantman out of the Solway. And I will keep that oath." - -He sighed, and added that he never hoped for better owners. In token of -which he drew a certificate of service from his pocket, signed by Messrs. -Currie and Beck, proclaiming him the best master and supercargo they had -ever had in their service. I perceived that talk lightened him, and led -him on. I inquired how he had got the 'John'. - -"I took passage on her from Kingston, laddie. On the trip both Captain -Macadam and the chief mate died of the fever. And it was I, the -passenger, who sailed her into Kirkcudbright, tho' I had never been more -than a chief mate before. That is scarce three years gone, when I was -just turned one and twenty. And old Mr. Currie, who had known my father, -was so pleased that he gave me the ship. I had been chief mate of the -'Two Friends', a slaver out of Kingston." - -"And so you were in that trade!" I exclaimed. - -He seemed to hesitate. - -"Yes," he replied, "and sorry I am to say it. But a man must live. It -was no place for a gentleman, and I left of my own accord. Before that, -I was on a slaver out of Whitehaven." - -"You must know Whitehaven, then." - -I said it only to keep the talk going, but I remembered the remark long -after. - -"I do," said he. "'Tis a fair sample of an English coast town. And I -have often thought, in the event of war with France, how easy 'twould be -for Louis's cruisers to harry the place, and an hundred like it, and -raise such a terror as to keep the British navy at home." - -I did not know at the time that this was the inspiration of an admiral -and of a genius. The subject waned. And as familiar scenes jogged his -memory, he launched into Scotch and reminiscence. Every barn he knew, -and cairn and croft and steeple recalled stories of his boyhood. - -We had long been in sight of Criffel, towering ahead of us, whose summit -had beckoned for cycles to Helvellyn and Saddleback looming up to the -southward, marking the wonderland of the English lakes. And at length, -after some five hours of stiff walking, we saw the brown Nith below us -going down to meet the Solway, and so came to the entrance of Mr. Craik's -place. The old porter recognized Paul by a mere shake of the head and -the words, "Yere back, are ye?" and a lowering of his bushy white -eyebrows. We took a by-way to avoid the manor-house, which stood on the -rising ground twixt us and the mountain, I walking close to John Paul's -shoulder and feeling for him at every step. Presently, at a turn of the -path, we were brought face to face with an elderly gentleman in black, -and John Paul stopped. - -"Mr. Craik!" he said, removing his hat. - -But the gentleman only whistled to his dogs and went on. - -"My God, even he!" exclaimed the captain, bitterly; "even he, who thought -so highly of my father!" - -A hundred yards more and we came to the little cottage nigh hid among the -trees. John Paul paused a moment, his hand upon the latch of the gate, -his eyes drinking in the familiar picture. The light of day was dying -behind Criffel, and the tiny panes of the cottage windows pulsed with the -rosy flame on the hearth within, now flaring, and again deepening. He -sighed. He walked with unsteady step to the door and pushed it open. -I followed, scarce knowing what I did, halted at the threshold and drew -back, for I had been upon holy ground. - -John Paul was kneeling upon the flags by the ingleside, his face buried -on the open Bible in his mother's lap. Her snowy-white head was bent -upon his, her tears running fast, and her lips moving in silent prayer to -Him who giveth and taketh away. Verily, here in this humble place dwelt -a love that defied the hard usage of a hard world! - -After a space he came to the door and called, and took me by the hand, -and I went in with him. Though his eyes were wet, he bore himself like a -cavalier. - -"Mother, this is Mr. Richard Carvell heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland,--a -young gentleman whom I have had the honour to rescue from a slaver." - -I bowed low, such was my respect for Dame Paul, and she rose and -curtseyed. She wore a widow's cap and a black gown, and I saw in her -deep-lined face a resemblance to her son. - -"Madam," I said, the title coming naturally, "I owe Captain Paul a debt I -can never repay." - -"An' him but a laddie!" she cried. "I'm thankful, John, I'm thankful for -his mither that ye saved him." - -"I have no mother, Madam Paul," said I, "and my father was killed in the -French war. But I have a grandfather who loves me dearly as I love him." - -Some impulse brought her forward, and she took both my hands in her own. - -"Ye'll forgive an auld woman, sir," she said, with a dignity that matched -her son's, "but ye're sae young, an' ye hae sic a leuk in yere bonny gray -e'e that I ken yell aye be a true friend o' John's. He's been a guid sin -to me, an' ye maunna reek what they say o' him." - -When now I think of the triumph John Paul has achieved, of the scoffing -world he has brought to his feet, I cannot but recall that sorrowful -evening in the gardener's cottage, when a son was restored but to be torn -away. The sisters came in from their day's work,--both well-favoured -lasses, with John's eyes and hair,--and cooked the simple meal of broth -and porridge, and the fowl they had kept so long against the captain's -home-coming. He carved with many a light word that cost him dear. Did -Janet reca' the simmer nights they had supped here, wi' the bumclocks -bizzin' ower the candles? And was Nancy, the cow, still i' the byre? -And did the bees still give the same bonnie hiney, and were the red -apples still in the far orchard? Ay, Meg had thocht o' him that autumn, -and ran to fetch them with her apron to her face, to come back smiling -through her tears. So it went; and often a lump would rise in my throat -that I could not eat, famished as I was, and the mother and sisters -scarce touched a morsel of the feast. - -The one never failing test of a son, my dears, lies in his treatment of -his mother, and from that hour forth I had not a doubt of John Paul. He -was a man who had seen the world and become, in more than one meaning of -the word, a gentleman. Whatever foibles he may have had, he brought no -conscious airs and graces to this lowly place, but was again the humble -gardener's boy. - -But time pressed, as it ever does. The hour came for us to leave, John -Paul firmly refusing to remain the night in a house that belonged to Mr. -Craik. Of the tenderness, nay, of the pity and cruelty of that parting, -I have no power to write. We knelt with bowed heads while the mother -prayed for the son, expatriated, whom she never hoped to see again on -this earth. She gave us bannocks of her own baking, and her last words -were to implore me always to be a friend to John Paul. - -Then we went out into the night and walked all the way to Dumfries in -silence. - -We lay that night at the sign of the "Twa Naigs," where Bonnie Prince -Charlie had rested in the Mars year(1715). Before I went to bed I called -for pen and paper, and by the light of a tallow dip sat down to compose a -letter to my grandfather, telling him that I was alive and well, and -recounting as much of my adventures as I could. I said that I was going -to London, where I would see Mr. Dix, and would take passage thence for -America. I prayed that he had been able to bear up against the ordeal of -my disappearance. I dwelt upon the obligations I was under to John Paul, -relating the misfortunes of that worthy seaman (which he so little -deserved!). And said that it was my purpose to bring him to Maryland -with me, where I knew Mr. Carvel would reward him with one of his ships, -explaining that he would accept no money. But when it came to accusing -Grafton and the rector, I thought twice, and bit the end of the feather. -The chances were so great that my grandfather would be in bed and under -the guardianship of my uncle that I forbore, and resolved instead to -write it to Captain Daniel at my first opportunity. - -I arose early to discover a morning gray and drear, with a mist falling -to chill the bones. News travels apace the world over, and that of John -Paul's home-coming and of his public renunciation of Scotland at the -"Hurcheon" had reached Dumfries in good time, substantiated by the -arrival of the teamster with the chests the night before. I descended -into the courtyard in time to catch the captain in his watchet-blue frock -haggling with the landlord for a chaise, the two of them surrounded by a -muttering crowd anxious for a glimpse of Mr. Craik's gardener's son, for -he had become a nine-day sensation to the country round about. But John -Paul minded them not so much as a swarm of flies, and the teamster's -account of the happenings at Kirkcudbright had given them so wholesome a -fear of his speech and presence as to cause them to misdoubt their own -wit, which is saying a deal of Scotchmen. But when the bargain had been -struck and John Paul gone with the 'ostler to see to his chests, mine -host thought it a pity not to have a fall out of me. - -"So ye be the Buckskin laud," he said, with a wink at a leering group of -farmers; "ye hae braw gentles in America." - -He was a man of sixty or thereabout, with a shrewd but not unkindly face -that had something familiar in it. - -"You have discernment indeed to recognize a gentleman in Scotch clothes," -I replied, turning the laugh on him. - -"Dinna raise ae Buckskin, Mr. Rawlinson," said a man in corduroy. - -"Rawlinson!" I exclaimed at random, "there is one of your name in the -colonies who knows his station better." - -"Trowkt!" cried mine host, "ye ken Ivie o' Maryland, Ivie my brither?" - -"He is my grandfather's miller at Carvel Hall," I said. - -"Syne ye maun be nave ither than Mr. Richard Carvel. Yere servan', Mr. -Carvel," and he made me a low bow, to the great dropping of jaws round -about, and led me into the inn. With trembling hands he took a packet -from his cabinet and showed me the letters, twenty-three in all, which -Ivie had written home since he had gone out as the King's passenger in -'45. The sight of them brought tears to my eyes and carried me out of -the Scotch mist back to dear old Maryland. I had no trouble in -convincing mine host that I was the lad eulogized in the scrawls, -and he put hand on the very sheet which announced my birth, nineteen -years since,--the fourth generation of Carvels Ivie had known. - -So it came that the captain and I got the best chaise and pair in place -of the worst, and sat down to a breakfast such as was prepared only for -my Lord Selkirk when he passed that way, while I told the landlord of his -brother; and as I talked I remembered the day I had caught the arm of the -mill and gone the round, to find that Ivie had written of that, too! - -After that our landlord would not hear of a reckoning. I might stay a -month, a year, at the "Twa Naigs" if I wished. As for John Paul, who -seemed my friend, he would say nothing, only to advise me privately that -the man was queer company, shaking his head when I defended him. He came -to me with ten guineas, which he pressed me to take for Ivies sake, and -repay when occasion offered. I thanked him, but was of no mind to accept -money from one who thought ill of my benefactor. - -The refusal of these recalled the chaise, and I took the trouble to -expostulate with the captain on that score, pointing out as delicately as -I might that, as he had brought me to Scotland, I held it within my right -to incur the expense of the trip to London, and that I intended to -reimburse him when I saw Mr. Dix. For I knew that his wallet was not -over full, since he had left the half of his savings with his mother. -Much to my secret delight, he agreed to this as within the compass of a -gentleman's acceptance. Had he not, I had the full intention of leaving -him to post it alone, and of offering myself to the master of the first -schooner. - -Despite the rain, and the painful scenes gone through but yesterday, and -the sour-looking ring of men and women gathered to see the start, I was -in high spirits as we went spinning down the Carlisle road, with my heart -leaping to the crack of the postilion's whip. - -I was going to London and to Dorothy! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -ON THE ROAD - -Many were the ludicrous incidents we encountered on our journey to -London. As long as I live, I shall never forget John Paul's alighting -upon the bridge of the Sark to rid himself of a mighty farewell address -to Scotland he had been composing upon the road. And this he delivered -with such appalling voice and gesture as to frighten to a standstill a -chaise on the English side of the stream, containing a young gentleman in -a scarlet coat and a laced hat, and a young lady who sobbed as we passed -them. They were, no doubt, running to Gretna Green to be married. - -Captain Paul, as I have said, was a man of moods, and strangely affected -by ridicule. And this we had in plenty upon the road. Landlords, -grooms, and'ostlers, and even our own post-boys, laughed and jested -coarsely at his sky-blue frock, and their sallies angered him beyond all -reason, while they afforded me so great an amusement that more than once -I was on the edge of a serious falling-out with him as a consequence of -my merriment. Usually, when we alighted from our vehicle, the expression -of mine host would sour, and his sir would shift to a master; while his -servants would go trooping in again, with many a coarse fling that they -would get no vails from such as we. And once we were invited into the -kitchen. He would be soar for half a day at a spell after a piece of -insolence out of the common, and then deliver me a solemn lecture upon -the advantages of birth in a manor. Then his natural buoyancy would lift -him again, and he would be in childish ecstasies at the prospect of -getting to London, and seeing the great world; and I began to think that -he secretly cherished the hope of meeting some of its votaries. For I -had told him, casually as possible, that I had friends in Arlington -Street, where I remembered the Manners were established. - -"Arlington Street!" he repeated, rolling the words over his tongue; "it -has a fine sound, laddie, a fine sound. That street must be the very -acme of fashion." - -I laughed, and replied that I did not know. And at the ordinary of the -next inn we came to, he took occasion to mention to me, in a louder voice -than was necessary, that I would do well to call in Arlington Street as -we went into town. So far as I could see, the remark did not compel any -increase of respect from our fellow-diners. - -Upon more than one point I was worried. Often and often I reflected that -some hitch might occur to prevent my getting money promptly from Mr. Dix. -Days would perchance elapse before I could find the man in such a great -city as London; he might be out of town at this season, Easter being less -than a se'nnight away. For I had heard my grandfather say that the elder -Mr. Dix had a house in some merchant's suburb, and loved to play at being -a squire before he died. Again (my heart stood at the thought), the -Manners might be gone back to America. I cursed the stubborn pride which -had led the captain to hire a post-chaise, when the wagon had served us -so much better, and besides relieved him of the fusillade of ridicule he -got travelling as a gentleman. But such reflections always ended in my -upbraiding myself for blaming him whose generosity had rescued me from -perhaps a life-long misery. - -But, on the whole, we rolled southward happily, between high walls and -hedges, past trim gardens and fields and meadows, and I marvelled at the -regular, park-like look of the country, as though stamped from one design -continually recurring, like our butter at Carvel Hall. The roads were -sometimes good, and sometimes as execrable as a colonial byway in winter, -with mud up to the axles. And yet, my heart went out to this country, -the home of my ancestors. Spring was at hand; the ploughboys whistled -between the furrows, the larks circled overhead, and the lilacs were -cautiously pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with the perfume -of living things. - -The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scanty -indeed, and more than once we were told to go farther down the street, -that the inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind was -troubled about John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to the -best hotels in the larger towns, declaring that there we should meet the -people of fashion. Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered that -such people never came to the ordinary, but were served in their own -rooms by their own servants. - -"I shall know them yet," he would vow, as we started off of a morning, -after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. -"Am I not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a -difficulty many before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the -history, and the poets. And the French language, though I have never -made the grand tour. I flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By -the help of your friends, I shall have a title or two for acquaintances -before I leave London; and when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I -know of who will give me employment, if I have not obtained preferment." - -The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And I -had not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was, I -knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier for a -camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross the -thresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers is -hard, and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name. - -"We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul," I said, "and waste no -time upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James's and -the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchance his -Majesty himself," I added, attempting merriment, for the notion of seeing -Dolly only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knew nothing of -Dolly. - -"So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you," he said reproachfully. -"Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can make -friends without going to Arlington Street." - -I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech. - -"And a time will come when they shall know me," he went on. "If they -insult me now they shall pay dearly for it." - -"My dear captain," I cried; "nobody will insult you, and least of all my -friends, the Manners." I had my misgivings about little Mr. Marmaduke. -"But we are, neither of us, equipped for a London season. I am but an -unknown provincial, and you--" I paused for words. - -For a sudden realization had come upon me that our positions were now -reversed. It seemed strange that I should be interpreting the world to -this man of power. - -"And I?" he repeated bitterly. - -"You have first to become an admiral," I replied, with inspiration; -"Drake was once a common seaman." - -He did not answer. But that evening as we came into Windsor, I perceived -that he had not abandoned his intentions. The long light flashed on the -peaceful Thames, and the great, grim castle was gilded all over its -western side. - -The captain leaned out of the window. - -"Postilion," he called, "which inn here is most favoured by gentlemen?" - -"The "Castle," said the boy, turning in his saddle to grin at me. "But -if I might be so bold as to advise your honour, the 'Swan' is a -comfortable house, and well attended." - -"Know your place, sirrah," shouted the captain, angrily, "and drive us to -the 'Castle.'" - -The boy snapped his whip disdainfully, and presently pulled us up at the -inn, our chaise covered with the mud of three particular showers we had -run through that day. And, as usual, the landlord, thinking he was about -to receive quality, came scraping to the chaise door, only to turn with a -gesture of disgust when he perceived John Paul's sea-boxes tied on -behind, and the costume of that hero, as well as my own. - -The captain demanded a room. But mine host had turned his back, when -suddenly a thought must have struck him, for he wheeled again. - -"Stay," he cried, glancing suspiciously at the sky-blue frock; "if you -are Mr. Dyson's courier, I have reserved a suite." - -This same John Paul, who was like iron with mob and mutiny, was pitiably -helpless before such a prop of the aristocracy. He flew into a rage, and -rated the landlord in Scotch and English, and I was fain to put my tongue -in my cheek and turn my back that my laughter might not anger him the -more. - -And so I came face to face with another smile, behind a spying-glass,--a -smile so cynical and unpleasant withal that my own was smothered. A tall -and thin gentleman, who had come out of the inn without a hat, was -surveying the dispute with a keen delight. He was past the middle age. -His clothes bore that mark which distinguishes his world from the other, -but his features were so striking as to hold my attention unwittingly. - -After a while he withdrew his glass, cast one look at me which might have -meant anything, and spoke up. - -"Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting a gentleman -to your house?" - -I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, or -I. Goble bowed at the speaker. - -"A gentleman, your honour!" he gasped. "Your honour is joking again. -Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor the -longshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan.'" - -"Jews' finery!" shouted the captain, with his fingers on his sword. - -But the stranger held up a hand deprecatingly. - -"'Pon my oath, Goble, I gave you credit for more penetration," he -drawled; "you may be right about the Scotchman, but your'longshore lout -has had both birth and breeding, or I know nothing." - -John Paul, who was in the act of bowing to the speaker, remained -petrified with his hand upon his heart, entirely discomfited. The -landlord forsook him instantly for me, then stole a glance at his guest -to test his seriousness, and looked at my face to see how greatly it were -at variance with my clothes. The temptation to lay hands on the cringing -little toadeater grew too strong for me, and I picked him up by the -scruff of the collar,--he was all skin and bones,--and spun him round -like a corpse upon a gibbet, while he cried mercy in a voice to wake the -dead. The slim gentleman under the sign laughed until he held his sides, -with a heartiness that jarred upon me. It did not seem to fit him. - -"By Hercules and Vulcan," he cried, when at last I had set the landlord -down, "what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in the -house, Goble, and sup with me." - -Goble pulled himself together. - -"And he is your honour's friend," he began, with a scowl. - -"Ay, he is my friend, I tell you," retorted the important personage, -impatiently. - -The innkeeper, sulky, half-satisfied, yet fearing to offend, welcomed us -with what grace he could muster, and we were shown to "The Fox and the -Grapes," a large room in the rear of the house. - -John Paul had not spoken since the slim gentleman had drawn the -distinction between us, and I knew that the affront was rankling in his -breast. He cast himself into a chair with such an air of dejection as -made me pity him from my heart. But I had no consolation to offer. His -first words, far from being the torrent of protest I looked for, almost -startled me into laughter. - -"He can be nothing less than a duke," said the captain. "Ah, Richard, -see what it is to be a gentleman!" - -"Fiddlesticks! I had rather own your powers than the best title in -England," I retorted sharply. - -He shook his head sorrowfully, which made me wonder the more that a man -of his ability should be unhappy without this one bauble attainment. - -"I shall begin to believe the philosophers have the right of it," he -remarked presently. "Have you ever read anything of Monsieur Rousseau's, -Richard?" - -The words were scarce out of his mouth when we heard a loud rap on the -door, which I opened to discover a Swiss fellow in a private livery, come -to say that his master begged the young gentleman would sup with him. -The man stood immovable while he delivered this message, and put an -impudent emphasis upon the gentleman. - -"Say to your master, whoever he may be," I replied, in some heat at the -man's sneer, "that I am travelling with Captain Paul. That any -invitation to me must include him." - -The lackey stood astounded at my answer, as though he had not heard -aright. Then he retired with less assurance than he had come, and John -Paul sprang to his feet and laid his hands upon my shoulders, as was his -wont when affected. He reproached himself for having misjudged me, and -added a deal more that I have forgotten. - -"And to think," he cried, "that you have forgone supping with a nobleman -on my account!" - -"Pish, captain, 'tis no great denial. His Lordship--if Lordship he is-- -is stranded in an inn, overcome with ennui, and must be amused. That is -all." - -Nevertheless I think the good captain was distinctly disappointed, not -alone because I gave up what in his opinion was a great advantage, but -likewise because I could have regaled him on my return with an account of -the meal. For it must be borne in mind, my dears, that those days are -not these, nor that country this one. And in judging Captain Paul it -must be remembered that rank inspired a vast respect when King George -came to the throne. It can never be said of John Paul that he lacked -either independence or spirit. But a nobleman was a nobleman then. - -So when presently the gentleman himself appeared smiling at our door, -which his servant had left open, we both of us rose up in astonishment -and bowed very respectfully, and my face burned at the thought of the -message I had sent him. For, after all, the captain was but twenty-one -and I nineteen, and the distinguished unknown at least fifty. He took a -pinch of snuff and brushed his waistcoat before he spoke. - -"Egad," said he, with good nature, looking up at me, "Mohammed was a -philosopher, and so am I, and come to the mountain. 'Tis worth crossing -an inn in these times to see a young man whose strength has not been -wasted upon foppery. May I ask your name, sir?" - -"Richard Carvel," I answered, much put aback. - -"Ah, Carvel," he repeated; "I know three or four of that name. Perhaps -you are Robert Carvel's son, of Yorkshire. But what the devil do you do -in such clothes? I was resolved to have you though I am forced to take a -dozen watchet-blue mountebanks in the bargain." - -"Sir, I warn you not to insult my friend," I cried, in a temper again. - -"There, there, not so loud, I beg you," said he, with a gesture. "Hot as -pounded pepper,--but all things are the better for a touch of it. I had -no intention of insulting the worthy man, I give my word. I must have my -joke, sir. No harm meant." And he nodded at John Paul, who looked as if -he would sink through the floor. "Robert Carvel is as testy as the devil -with the gout, and you are not unlike him in feature." - -"He is no relation of mine," I replied, undecided whether to laugh or be -angry. And then I added, for I was very young, "I am an American, and -heir to Carvel Hall in Maryland." - -"Lord, lord, I might have known," exclaimed he. "Once I had the honour -of dining with your Dr. Franklin, from Pennsylvania. He dresses for all -the world like you, only worse, and wears a hat I would not be caught -under at Bagnigge Wells, were I so imprudent as to go there." - -"Dr. Franklin has weightier matters than hats to occupy him, sir," I -retorted. For I was determined to hold my own. - -He made a French gesture, a shrug of his thin shoulders, which caused me -to suspect he was not always so good-natured. - -"Dr. Franklin would better have stuck to his newspaper, my young friend," -said he. "But I like your appearance too well to quarrel with you, and -we'll have no politics before eating. Come, gentlemen, come! Let us see -what Goble has left after his shaking." - -He struck off with something of a painful gait, which he explained was -from the gout. And presently we arrived at his parlour, where supper was -set out for us. I had not tasted its equal since I left Maryland. We -sat down to a capon stuffed with eggs, and dainty sausages, and hot -rolls, such as we had at home; and a wine which had cobwebbed and -mellowed under the Castle Inn for better than twenty years. The -personage did not drink wine. He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble -because he had not been given iced water. While he was tapping on the -table I took occasion to observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike -the stranger, not by reason of its nobility, but because of its oddity. -He had a prodigious length of face, the nose long in proportion, but not -prominent. The eyes were dark, very bright, and wide apart, with little -eyebrows dabbed over them at a slanting angle. The thin-lipped mouth -rather pursed up, which made his smile the contradiction it was. In -short, my dears, while I do not lay claim to the reading of character, -it required no great astuteness to perceive the scholar, the man of the -world, and the ascetic--and all affected. His conversation bore out the -summary. It astonished us. It encircled the earth, embraced history and -letters since the world began. And added to all this, he had a thousand -anecdotes on his tongue's tip. His words he chose with too great a -nicety; his sentences were of a foreign formation, twisted around; and -his stories were illustrated with French gesticulations. He threw in -quotations galore, in Latin, and French, and English, until the captain -began casting me odd, uncomfortable looks, as though he wished himself -well out of the entertainment. Indeed, poor John Paul's perturbation -amused me more than the gentleman's anecdotes. To be ill at ease is -discouraging to any one, but it was peculiarly fatal with the captain. -This arch-aristocrat dazzled him. When he attempted to follow in the -same vein he would get lost. And his really considerable learning -counted for nothing. He reached the height of his mortification when the -slim gentleman dropped his eyelids and began to yawn. I was wickedly -delighted. He could not have been better met. Another such encounter, -and I would warrant the captain's illusions concerning the gentry to go -up in smoke. Then he might come to some notion of his own true powers. -As for me, I enjoyed the supper which our host had insisted upon our -partaking, drank his wine, and paid him very little attention. - -"May I make so bold as to ask, sir, whether you are a patron of -literature?" said the captain, at length. - -"A very poor patron, my dear man," was the answer. "Merely a humble -worshipper at the shrine. And I might say that I partake of its benefits -as much as a gentleman may. And yet," he added, with a laugh and a -cough, "those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me a -literary man." - -"And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is coming -on," said he, "perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr. -Carvel, and of your friend, Captain Paul. And how you come to be so far -from home." And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man who -has bought his right to an opera box. - -Here was my chance. And I resolved that if I did not further enlighten -John Paul, it would be no fault of mine. - -"Sir," I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, "I was -kidnapped by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony, -who had designs upon my grandfather's fortune. I was taken abroad in a -slaver and carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discovered -that the captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates. For one -day all hands got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captain -raised the skull and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest. I was -forced to climb the main rigging in order to escape being hacked to -pieces." - -He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half an -inch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity. John Paul -was no less astonished at my little ruse. - -"Holy Saint Clement!" exclaimed our host; "pirates! This begins to -have a flavour indeed. And yet you do not seem to be a lad with an -imagination. Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say, -with Alceste: 'Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.' -But pray go on, sir. You have but to call for pen and ink to rival -Mr. Fielding." - -With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him a -bow. And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same. - -"I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir," I said. "Sir, your -humble servant. I wish you a very good evening." He rose precipitately, -crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm. - -"Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated," he said, in some agitation. -"Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyes -on you until to-night. Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery? -But I should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit. -Pray be seated, captain." - -I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored my -point, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism. -I told my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listened -with every mark of attention and interest. Indeed, to my surprise, he -began to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed him -capable. - -"What a find! what a find!" he continued to exclaim, when I had -finished. "And true. You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Sir!" I replied, "I thought we had thrashed that out." - -"Yes, yes, to be sure. I beg pardon," said he. And then to his servant: -"Colomb, is my writing-tablet unpacked?" - -I was more mystified than ever as to his identity. Was he going to put -the story in a magazine? - -After that he seemed plainly anxious to be rid of us. I bade him good -night, and he grasped my hand warmly enough. Then he turned to the -captain in his most condescending manner. But a great change had come -over John Paul. He was ever quick to see and to learn, and I rejoiced to -remark that he did not bow over the hand, as he might have done two hours -since. He was again Captain Paul, the man, who fought his way on his own -merits. He held himself as tho' he was once more pacing the deck of the -John. - -The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass, -soused it with water, and held it up. - -"Here's to your future, my good captain," he said, "and to Mr. Carvel's -safe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail to -go to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and let -him remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And -put up at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have -friends in London." - -I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry. - -"You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel," -he added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. "A strange yarn -indeed, captain." - -"And therefore," said the captain, coolly, "as a stranger give it -welcome. - - "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" - -Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been more -taken aback. - -"What! What's this?" he cried. "You quote Hamlet! And who the devil -are you, sir, that you know my name?" - -"Your name, sir!" exclaims the captain, in astonishment. - -"Well, well," he said, stepping back and eying us closely, "'tis no -matter. Good night, gentlemen, good night." - -And we went to bed with many a laugh over the incident. - -"His name must be Horatio. We'll discover it in the morning," said John -Paul. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -LONDON TOWN - -But he had not risen when we set out, nor would the illnatured landlord -reveal his name. It mattered little to me, since I desired to forget him -as quickly as possible. For here was one of my own people of quality, -a gentleman who professed to believe what I told him, and yet would do -no more for me than recommend me an inn and a tailor; while a poor sea- -captain, driven from his employment and his home, with no better reason -to put faith in my story, was sharing with me his last penny. Goble, in -truth, had made us pay dearly for our fun with him, and the hum of the -vast unknown fell upon our ears with the question of lodging still -unsettled. The captain was for going to the Star and Garter, the inn the -gentleman had mentioned. I was in favour of seeking a more modest and -less fashionable hostelry. - -"Remember that you must keep up your condition, Richard," said John Paul. - -"And if all English gentlemen are like our late friend," I said, "I would -rather stay in a city coffee-house. Remember that you have only two -guineas left after paying for the chaise, and that Mr. Dix may be out of -town." - -"And your friends in Arlington Street?" said he. - -"May be back in Maryland," said I; and added inwardly, - -"God forbid!" - -"We shall have twice the chance at the Star and Garter. They will want a -show of gold at a humbler place, and at the Star we may carry matters -with a high hand. Pick out the biggest frigate," he cried, for the tenth -time, at least, "or the most beautiful lady, and it will surprise you, my -lad, to find out how many times you will win." - -I know of no feeling of awe to equal that of a stranger approaching for -the first time a huge city. The thought of a human multitude is ever -appalling as that of infinity itself, a human multitude with its infinity -of despairs and joys, disgraces and honours, each small unit with all the -world in its own brain, and all the world out of it! Each intent upon -his own business or pleasure, and striving the while by hook or crook to -keep the ground from slipping beneath his feet. For, if he falls, God -help him! - -Yes, here was London, great and pitiless, and the fear of it was upon our -souls as we rode into it that day. - -Holland House with its shaded gardens, Kensington Palace with the broad -green acres of parks in front of it stitched by the silver Serpentine, -and Buckingham House, which lay to the south over the hill,--all were one -to us in wonder as they loomed through the glittering mist that softened -all. We met with a stream of countless wagons that spoke of a trade -beyond knowledge, sprinkled with the equipages of the gentry floating -upon it; coach and chaise, cabriolet and chariot, gorgeously bedecked -with heraldry and wreaths; their numbers astonished me, for to my mind -the best of them were no better than we could boast in Annapolis. One -matter, which brings a laugh as I recall it, was the oddity to me of -seeing white coachmen and footmen. - -We clattered down St. James's Street, of which I had often heard my -grandfather speak, and at length we drew up before the Star and Garter in -Pall Mall, over against the palace. The servants came hurrying out, -headed by a chamberlain clad in magnificent livery, a functionary we had -not before encountered. John Paul alighted to face this personage, who, -the moment he perceived us, shifted his welcoming look to one of such -withering scorn as would have daunted a more timid man than the captain. -Without the formality of a sir he demanded our business, which started -the inn people and our own boy to snickering, and made the passers-by -pause and stare. Dandies who were taking the air stopped to ogle us with -their spying-glasses and to offer quips, and behind them gathered the -flunkies and chairmen awaiting their masters at the clubs and coffee- -houses near by. What was my astonishment, therefore, to see a change in -the captain's demeanour. Truly for quick learning and the application of -it I have never known his equal. His air became the one of careless ease -habitual to the little gentleman we had met at Windsor, and he drew from -his pocket one of his guineas, which he tossed in the man's palm. - -"Here, my man," said he, snapping his fingers; "an apartment at once, or -you shall pay for this nonsense, I promise you." And walked in with his -chin in the air, so grandly as to dissolve ridicule into speculation. - -For an instant the chamberlain wavered, and I trembled, for I dreaded a -disgrace in Pall Mall, where the Manners might hear of it. Then fear, or -hope of gain, or something else got the better of him, for he led us to a -snug, well-furnished suite of a parlour and bedroom on the first floor, -and stood bowing in the doorway for his honour's further commands. They -were of a sort to bring the sweat to my forehead. - -"Have a fellow run to bid Davenport, the tailor, come hither as fast as -his legs will carry him. And you may make it known that this young -gentleman desires a servant, a good man, mind you, with references, who -knows a gentleman's wants. He will be well paid." - -That name of Davenport was a charm,--the mention of a servant was its -finishing touch. The chamberlain bent almost double, and retired, -closing the door softly behind him. And so great had been my surprise -over these last acquirements of the captain that until now I had had no -breath to expostulate. - -"I must have my fling, Richard," he answered, laughing; "I shall not be a -gentleman long. I must know how it feels to take your ease, and stroke -your velvet, and order lackeys about. And when my money is gone I shall -be content to go to sea again, and think about it o' stormy nights." - -This feeling was so far beyond my intelligence that I made no comment. -And I could not for the life of me chide him, but prayed that all would -come right in the end. - -In less than an hour Davenport himself arrived, bristling with -importance, followed by his man carrying such a variety of silks and -satins, flowered and plain, and broadcloths and velvets, to fill the -furniture. And close behind the tailor came a tall haberdasher from Bond -Street, who had got wind of a customer, with a bewildering lot of ruffles -and handkerchiefs and neckerchiefs, and bows of lawn and lace which (so -he informed us) gentlemen now wore in the place of solitaires. Then came -a hosier and a bootmaker and a hatter; nay, I was forgetting a jeweller -from Temple Bar. And so imposing a front did the captain wear as he -picked this and recommended the other that he got credit for me for all -he chose, and might have had more besides. For himself he ordered merely -a modest street suit of purple, the sword to be thrust through the -pocket, Davenport promising it with mine for the next afternoon. For so -much discredit had been cast upon his taste on the road to London that he -was resolved to remain indoors until he could appear with decency. He -learned quickly, as I have said. - -By the time we had done with these matters, which I wished to perdition, -some score of applicants was in waiting for me. And out of them I hired -one who had been valet to the young Lord Rereby, and whose recommendation -was excellent. His name was Banks, his face open and ingenuous, his -stature a little above the ordinary, and his manner respectful. I had -Davenport measure him at once for a suit of the Carvel livery, and bade -him report on the morrow. - -All this while, my dears, I was aching to be off to Arlington Street, -but a foolish pride held me back. I had heard so much of the fashion in -which the Manners moved that I feared to bring ridicule upon them in poor -MacMuir's clothes. But presently the desire to see Dolly took such hold -upon me that I set out before dinner, fought my way past the chairmen and -chaisemen at the door, and asked my way of the first civil person I -encountered. 'Twas only a little rise up the steps of St. James's -Street, Arlington Street being but a small pocket of Piccadilly, but it -seemed a dull English mile; and my heart thumped when I reached the -corner, and the houses danced before my eyes. I steadied myself by a -post and looked again. At last, after a thousand leagues of wandering, -I was near her! But how to choose between fifty severe and imposing -mansions? I walked on toward that endless race of affairs and fashion, -Piccadilly, scanning every door, nay, every window, in the hope that I -might behold my lady's face framed therein. Here a chair was set down, -there a chariot or a coach pulled up, and a clocked flunky bowing a lady -in. But no Dorothy. Finally, when I had near made the round of each -side, I summoned courage and asked a butcher's lad, whistling as he -passed me, whether he could point out the residence of Mr. Manners. - -"Ay," he replied, looking me over out of the corner of his eye, "that I -can. But y'ell not get a glimpse o' the beauty this day, for she's but -just off to Kensington with a coachful o' quality." - -And he led me, all in a tremble over his answer, to a large stone -dwelling with arched windows, and pillared portico with lanthorns and -link extinguishers, an area and railing beside it. The flavour of -generations of aristocracy hung about the place, and the big knocker on -the carved door seemed to regard with such a forbidding frown my shabby -clothes that I took but the one glance (enough to fix it forever in my -memory), and hurried on. Alas, what hope had I of Dorothy now! - -"What cheer, Richard?" cried the captain when I returned; "have you seen -your friends?" - -I told him that I had feared to disgrace them, and so refrained from -knocking--a decision which he commended as the very essence of wisdom. -Though a desire to meet and talk with quality pushed him hard, he would -not go a step to the ordinary, and gave orders to be served in our room, -thus fostering the mystery which had enveloped us since our arrival. -Dinner at the Star and Garter being at the fashionable hour of half after -four, I was forced to give over for that day the task of finding Mr. Dix. - -That evening--shall I confess it?--I spent between the Green Park and -Arlington Street, hoping for a glimpse of Miss Dolly returning from -Kensington. - -The next morning I proclaimed my intention of going to Mr. Dix. - -"Send for him," said the captain. "Gentlemen never seek their men of -affairs." - -"No," I cried; "I can contain myself in this place no longer. I must be -moving." - -"As you will, Richard," he replied, and giving me a queer, puzzled look -he settled himself between the Morning Post and the Chronicle. - -As I passed the servants in the lower hall, I could not but remark an -altered treatment. My friend the chamberlain, more pompous than ever, -stood erect in the door with a stony stare, which melted the moment he -perceived a young gentleman who descended behind me. I heard him cry out -"A chaise for his Lordship!" at which command two of his assistants ran -out together. Suspicion had plainly gripped his soul overnight, and -this, added to mortified vanity at having been duped, was sufficient for -him to allow me to leave the inn unattended. Nor could I greatly blame -him, for you must know, my dears, that at that time London was filled -with adventurers of all types. - -I felt a deal like an impostor, in truth, as I stepped into the street, -disdaining to inquire of any of the people of the Star and Garter where -an American agent might be found. The day was gray and cheerless, the -colour of my own spirits as I walked toward the east, knowing that the -city lay that way. But I soon found plenty to distract me. - -To a lad such as I, bred in a quiet tho' prosperous colonial town, a walk -through London was a revelation. Here in the Pall Mall the day was not -yet begun, tho' for some scarce ended. I had not gone fifty paces from -the hotel before I came upon a stout gentleman with twelve hours of -claret inside him, brought out of a coffee-house and put with vast -difficulty into his chair; and I stopped to watch the men stagger off -with their load to St. James's Street. Next I met a squad of redcoated -guards going to the palace, and after them a grand coach and six rattled -over the Scotch granite, swaying to a degree that threatened to shake off -the footmen clinging behind. Within, a man with an eagle nose sat -impassive, and I set him down for one of the king's ministers. - -Presently I came out into a wide space, which I knew to be Charing Cross -by the statue of Charles the First which stood in the centre of it, and -the throat of a street which was just in front of me must be the Strand. -Here all was life and bustle. On one hand was Golden's Hotel, and a -crowded mail-coach was dashing out from the arch beneath it, the horn -blowing merrily; on the other hand, so I was told by a friendly man in -brown, was Northumberland House, the gloomy grandeur whereof held my eyes -for a time. And I made bold to ask in what district were those who had -dealings with the colonies. He scanned me with a puzzling look of -commiseration. - -"Ye're not a-going to sell yereself for seven year, my lad?" said he. -"I was near that myself when I was young, and I thank God' to this day -that I talked first to an honest man, even as you are doing. They'll -give ye a pretty tale,--the factors,--of a land of milk and honey, when -it's naught but stripes and curses yell get." - -And he was about to rebuke me hotly, when I told him I had come from -Maryland, where I was born. - -"Why, ye speak like a gentleman!" he exclaimed. "I was informed that -all talk like naygurs over there. And is it not so of your -redemptioners?" - -I said that depended upon the master they got. - -"Then I take it ye are looking for the lawyers, who mostly represent the -planters. And y e'll find them at the Temple or Lincoln's Inn." - -I replied that he I sought was not an attorney, but a man of business. -Whereupon he said that I should find all those in a batch about the North -and South American Coffee House, in Threadneedle Street. And he pointed -me into the Strand, adding that I had but to follow my nose to St. -Paul's, and there inquire. - -I would I might give you some notion of the great artery of London in -those days, for it has changed much since I went down it that heavy -morning in April, 1770, fighting my way. Ay, truly, fighting my way, for -the street then was no place for the weak and timid, when bullocks ran -through it in droves on the way to market, when it was often jammed from -wall to wall with wagons, and carmen and truckmen and coachmen swung -their whips and cursed one another to the extent of their lungs. Near -St. Clement Danes I was packed in a crowd for ten minutes while two of -these fellows formed a ring and fought for the right of way, stopping the -traffic as far as I could see. Dustmen, and sweeps, and even beggars, -jostled you on the corners, bullies tried to push you against the posts -or into the kennels; and once, in Butchers' Row, I was stopped by a -flashy, soft-tongued fellow who would have lured me into a tavern near -by. - -The noises were bedlam ten times over. Shopmen stood at their doors and -cried, "Rally up, rally up, buy, buy, buy!" venders shouted saloop and -barley, furmity, Shrewsbury cakes and hot peascods, rosemary and -lavender, small coal and sealing-wax, and others bawled "Pots to solder! -"and "Knives to grind!" Then there was the incessant roar of the heavy -wheels over the rough stones, and the rasp and shriek of the brewers' -sledges as they moved clumsily along. As for the odours, from that of -the roasted coffee and food of the taverns, to the stale fish on the -stalls, and worse, I can say nothing. They surpassed imagination. - -At length, upon emerging from Butchers' Row, I came upon some stocks -standing in the street, and beheld ahead of me a great gateway stretching -across the Strand from house to house. - -Its stone was stained with age, and the stern front of it seemed to mock -the unseemly and impetuous haste of the tide rushing through its arches. -I stood and gazed, nor needed one to tell me that those two grinning -skulls above it, swinging to the wind on the pikes, were rebel heads. -Bare and bleached now, and exposed to a cruel view, but once caressed by -loving hands, was the last of those whose devotion to the house of Stuart -had brought from their homes to Temple Bar. - -I halted by the Fleet Market, nor could I resist the desire to go into -St. Paul's, to feel like a pebble in a bell under its mighty dome; and it -lacked but half an hour of noon when I had come out at the Poultry and -finished gaping at the Mansion House. I missed Threadneedle Street and -went down Cornhill, in my ignorance mistaking the Royal Exchange, with -its long piazza and high tower, for the coffeehouse I sought: in the -great hall I begged a gentleman to direct me to Mr. Dix, if he knew such -a person. He shrugged his shoulders, which mystified me somewhat, but -answered with a ready good-nature that he was likely to be found at that -time at Tom's Coffee House, in Birchin Lane near by, whither I went with -him. He climbed the stairs ahead of me and directed me, puffing, to the -news room, which I found filled with men, some writing, some talking -eagerly, and others turning over newspapers. The servant there looked me -over with no great favour, but on telling him my business he went off, -and returned with a young man of a pink and white complexion, in a green -riding-frock, leather breeches, and top boots, who said: - -"Well, my man, I am Mr. Dix." - -There was a look about him, added to his tone and manner, set me strong -against him. I knew his father had not been of this stamp. - -"And I am Mr. Richard Carvel, grandson to Mr. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel -Hall, in Maryland," I replied, much in the same way. - -He thrust his hands into his breeches and stared very hard. - -"You?" he said finally, with something very near a laugh. - -"Sir, a gentleman's word usually suffices!" I cried. - -He changed his tone a little. - -"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," he said, "but we men of business have need to -be careful. Let us sit, and I will examine your letters. Your -determination must have been suddenly taken," he added, "for I have -nothing from Mr. Carvel on the subject of your coming." - -"Letters! You have heard nothing!" I gasped, and there stopped short -and clinched the table. "Has not my grandfather written of my -disappearance?" - -Immediately his expression went back to the one he had met me with. -"Pardon me," he said again. - -I composed myself as best I could in the face of his incredulity, -swallowing with an effort the aversion I felt to giving him my story. - -"I think it strange he has not informed you," I said; "I was kidnapped -near Annapolis last Christmas-time, and put on board of a slaver, from -which I was rescued by great good fortune, and brought to Scotland. And -I have but just made my way to London." - -"The thing is not likely, Mr.--, Mr.--," he said, drumming impatiently on -the board. - -Then I lost control of myself. - -"As sure as I am heir to Carvel Hall, Mr. Dix," I cried, rising, "you -shall pay for your insolence by forfeiting your agency!" - -Now the roan was a natural coward, with a sneer for some and a smirk for -others. He went to the smirk. - -"I am but looking to Mr. Carvel's interests the best I know how," he -replied; "and if indeed you be Mr. Richard Carvel, then you must applaud -my caution, sir, in seeking proofs." - -"Proofs I have none," I cried; "the very clothes on my back are borrowed -from a Scotch seaman. My God, Mr. Dix, do I look like a rogue?" - -"Were I to advance money upon appearances, sir, I should be insolvent in -a fortnight. But stay," he cried uneasily, as I flung back my chair, -"stay, sir. Is there no one of your province in the town to attest your -identity?" - -"Ay, that there is," I said bitterly; "you shall hear from Mr. Manners -soon, I promise you." - -"Pray, Mr. Carvel," he said, overtaking me on the stairs, "you will -surely allow the situation to be--extraordinary, you will surely commend -my discretion. Permit me, sir, to go with you to Arlington Street." And -he sent a lad in haste to the Exchange for a hackney-chaise, which was -soon brought around. - -I got in, somewhat mollified, and ashamed of my heat: still disliking the -man, but acknowledging he had the better right on his side. True to his -kind he gave me every mark of politeness now, asked particularly after -Mr. Carvel's health, and encouraged me to give him as much of my -adventure as I thought proper. But what with the rattle of the carriage -and the street noises and my disgust, I did not care to talk, and -presently told him as much very curtly. He persisted, how: ever, in -pointing out the sights, the Fleet prison, and where the Ludgate stood -six years gone; and the Devil's Tavern, of old Ben Jonson's time, and the -Mitre and the Cheshire Cheese and the Cock, where Dr. Johnson might be -found near the end of the week at his dinner. He showed me the King's -Mews above Charing Cross, and the famous theatre in the Haymarket, and we -had but turned the corner into Piccadilly when he cried excitedly at a -passing chariot: - -"There, Mr. Carvel, there go my Lord North and Mr. Rigby!" - -"The devil take them, Mr. Dix!" I exclaimed. - -He was silent after that, glancing at me covertly from while to while -until we swung into Arlington Street. Before I knew we were stopped in -front of the house, but as I set foot on the step I found myself -confronted by a footman in the Manners livery, who cried out angrily to -our man: "Make way, make way for his Grace of Chartersea!" Turning, I saw -a coach behind, the horses dancing at the rear wheels of the chaise. We -alighted hastily, and I stood motionless, my heart jumping quick and hard -in the hope and fear that Dorothy was within, my eye fixed on the coach -door. But when the footman pulled it open and lowered the step, out -lolled a very broad man with a bloated face and little, beady eyes -without a spark of meaning, and something very like a hump was on the top -of his back. He wore a yellow top-coat, and red-heeled shoes of the -latest fashion, and I settled at once he was the Duke of Chartersea. - -Next came little Mr. Manners, stepping daintily as ever; and then, as the -door closed with a bang, I remembered my errand. They had got halfway to -the portico. - -"Mr. Manners!" I cried. - -He faced about, and his Grace also, and both stared in wellbred surprise. -As I live, Mr. Manners looked into my face, into my very eyes, and gave no -sign of recognition. And what between astonishment and anger, and a -contempt that arose within me, I could not speak. - -"Give the man a shilling, Manners," said his Grace; "we can't stay here -forever." - -"Ay, give the man a shilling," lisped Mr. Manners to the footman. And -they passed into the house, and the door eras shut. - -Then I heard Mr. Dix at my elbow, saying in a soft voice: "Now, my fine -gentleman, is there any good reason why you should not ride to Bow Street -with me?" - -"As there is a God in heaven. Mr. Dix," I answered, very low, "if you -attempt to lay hands on me, you shall answer for it! And you shall hear -from me yet, at the Star and Garter hotel." - -I spun on my heel and left him, nor did he follow; and a great lump was -in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. - -What would John Paul say? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -CASTLE YARD - -But I did not go direct to the Star and Garter. No, I lacked the courage -to say to John Paul: "You have trusted me, and this is how I have -rewarded your faith." And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all men, -had served me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with a -bitterness I had never before conceived. And when my brain became -clearer I reflected that Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my -disappearance from Maryland, and that his action had been one of design, -and of cold blood. But I gave to Dorothy or her mother no part in it. -Mr. Manners never had had cause to hate me, and the only reason I could -assign was connected with his Grace of Chartersea, which I dismissed as -absurd. - -A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was, -nor how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a -huckster told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall -Mall. The usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but I -noticed a couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt dress, -and heard a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the stairs -and fumbled at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and the door -was suddenly and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a big, -rough-looking man with his hands on his hips. - -"Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant," he cried. - -The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a wry -face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired, -resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the corner -perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man -disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were thrown -on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat across -the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the rest: -"The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. Martin's -Lane!" - -In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the -haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the -confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes -Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and -looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted -with relief at sight of me. - -"Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?" he cried. And turning -to the man confronting me, he added, "This gentleman will settle their -beggarly accounts." - -Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me. - -"Likely," laughed the big man; "I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to -pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them." - -They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply. -But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the -trouble I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went -up to him. - -"My dear friend," I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, "I beg, -I pray that you will not lose faith in me,--that you will not think any -deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know -me, and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr. -Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the -Duke of Chartersea." - -And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face, -shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness. - -"What," I heard him cry, "Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all -the law in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your -fairweather fowl shall have the chance to run me through!" - -I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses. - -"You believe me, captain," I said, overcome by the man's faith; "you -believe me when I tell you that one I have known from childhood refused -to recognize me to-day?" - -He raised me in his arms as tenderly as a woman might. - -"And the whole world denied you, lad, I would not. I believe you--"and -he repeated it again and again, unable to get farther. - -And if his words brought tears to my eyes, my strength came with them. - -"Then I care not," I replied; "I only to live to reward you." - -"Mr. Manners shall answer for it to me!" cried John Paul again, and made -a pace toward the door. - -"Not so fast, not so fast, captain, or admiral, or whatever you are," -said the bailiff, stepping in his way, for he was used to such scenes; -"as God reigns, the owners of all these fierce titles be fire-eaters, who -would spit you if you spilt snuff upon 'em. Come, come, gentlemen, your -swords, and we shall see the sights o' London." - -This was the signal for another uproar, the tailor shrieking that John -Paul must take off the suit, and Banks the livery; asking the man in the -corner by the sea-chests (who proved to be the landlord) who was to pay -him for his work and his lost cloth. And the landlord shook his fist at -us and shouted back, who was to pay him his four pounds odd, which -included two ten-shilling dinners and a flask of his best wine? The -other tradesmen seized what was theirs and made off with remarks -appropriate to the occasion. And when John Paul and my man were divested -of their plumes, we were marched downstairs and out through a jeering -line of people to a hackney coach. - -"Now, sirs, whereaway?" said the bailiff when we were got in beside one -of his men, and burning with the shame of it; "to the prison? Or I has a -very pleasant hotel for gentlemen in Castle Yard." - -The frightful stories my dear grandfather had told me of the Fleet came -flooding into my head, and I shuddered and turned sick. I glanced at -John Paul. - -"A guinea will not go far in a sponging-house," said he, and the -bailiff's man laughed. - -The bailiff gave a direction we did not hear, and we drove off. -He proved a bluff fellow with a bloat yet not unkindly humour, and -despite his calling seemed to have something that was human in him. -He passed many a joke on that pitiful journey in an attempt to break our -despondency, urging us not to be downcast, and reminding us that the last -gentleman he had taken from Pall Mall was in over a thousand pounds, and -that our amount was a bagatelle. And when we had gone through Temple -Bar, instead of keeping on down Fleet Street, we jolted into Chancery -Lane. This roused me. - -"My friend has warned you that he has no money," I said, "and no more -have I." - -The bailiff regarded me shrewdly. - -"Ay," he replied, "I know. But I has seen many stripes o' men in my -time, my masters, and I know them to trust, and them whose silver I must -feel or send to the Fleet." - -I told him unreservedly my case, and that he must take his chance of -being paid; that I could not hear from America for three months at least. -He listened without much show of attention, shaking his head from side to -side. - -"If you ever cheated a man, or the admiral here either, then I begin over -again," he broke in with decision; "it is the fine sparks from the clubs -I has to watch. You'll not worry, sir, about me. Take my oath I'll get -interest out of you on my money." - -Unwilling as we both were to be beholden to a bailiff, the alternative of -the Fleet was too terrible to be thought of. And so we alighted after -him with a shiver at the sight of the ugly, grimy face of the house, and -the dirty windows all barred with double iron. In answer to a knock we -were presently admitted by a turnkey to a vestibule as black as a tomb, -and the heavy outer door was locked behind us. Then, as the man cursed -and groped for the keyhole of the inner door, despair laid hold of me. - -Once inside, in the half light of a narrow hallway, a variety of noises -greeted our ears,--laughter from above and below, interspersed with -oaths; the click of billiard balls, and the occasional hammering of a -pack of cards on a bare table before the shuffle. The air was close -almost to suffocation, and out of the coffee room, into which I glanced, -came a heavy cloud of tobacco smoke. - -"Why, my masters, why so glum?" said the bailiff; "my inn is not such a -bad place, and you'll find ample good company here, I promise you." - -And he led us into a dingy antechamber littered with papers, on every one -of which, I daresay, was written a tragedy. Then he inscribed our names, -ages, descriptions, and the like in a great book, when we followed him up -three flights to a low room under the eaves, having but one small window, -and bare of furniture save two narrow cots for beds, a broken chair, and -a cracked mirror. He explained that cash boarders got better, and added -that we might be happy we were not in the Fleet. - -"We dine at two here, gentlemen, and sup at eight. This is not the Star -and Garter," said he as he left us. - -It was the captain who spoke first, though he swallowed twice before the -words came out. - -"Come, Richard, come, laddie," he said, "'tis no so bad it micht-na be -waur. We'll mak the maist o' it." - -"I care not for myself, Captain Paul," I replied, marvelling the more at -him, "but to think that I have landed you here, that this is my return -for your sacrifice." - -"Hoots! How was ye to foresee Mr. Manners was a blellum?" And he broke -into threats which, if Mr. Marmaduke had heard and comprehended, would -have driven him into the seventh state of fear. "Have you no other -friends in London?" he asked, regaining his English. - -I shook my head. Then came--a question I dreaded. - -"And Mr. Manners's family?" - -"I would rather remain here for life," I said, "than to them now." - -For pride is often selfish, my dears, and I did not reflect that if I -remained, the captain would remain likewise. - -"Are they all like Mr. Manners?" - -"That they are not," I returned with more heat than was necessary; "his -wife is goodness itself, and his daughter--" Words failed me, and I -reddened. - -"Ah, he has a daughter, you say," said the captain, casting a significant -look at me and beginning to pace the little room. He was keener than I -thought, this John Paul. - -If it were not so painful a task, my dears, I would give you here some -notion of what a London sponging-house was in the last century. Comyn -has heard me tell of it, and I have seen Bess cry over the story. Gaming -was the king-vice of that age, and it filled these places to overflowing. -Heaven help a man who came into the world with that propensity in the -early days of King George the Third. Many, alas, acquired it before they -were come to years of discretion. Next me, at the long table where we -were all thrown in together,--all who could not pay for private meals,-- -sat a poor fellow who had flung away a patrimony of three thousand a -year. Another had even mortgaged to a Jew his prospects on the death of -his mother, and had been seized by the bailiffs outside of St. James's -palace, coming to Castle Yard direct from his Majesty's levee. Yet -another, with such a look of dead hope in his eyes as haunts me yet, -would talk to us by the hour of the Devonshire house where he was born, -of the green valley and the peaceful stream, and of the old tower-room, -caressed by trees, where Queen Bess had once lain under the carved oak -rafters. Here he had taken his young wife, and they used to sit -together, so he said, in the sunny oriel over the water, and he had sworn -to give up the cards. That was but three years since, and then all had -gone across the green cloth in one mad night in St. James's Street. -Their friends had deserted them, and the poor little woman was lodged in -Holborn near by, and came every morning with some little dainty to the -bailiff's, for her liege lord who had so used her. He pressed me to -share a fowl with him one day, but it would have choked me. God knows -where she got the money to buy it. I saw her once hanging on his neck in -the hall, he trying to shield her from the impudent gaze of his fellow- -lodgers. - -But some of them lived like lords in luxury, with never a seeming regret; -and had apartments on the first floor, and had their tea and paper in -bed, and lounged out the morning in a flowered nightgown, and the rest of -the day in a laced coat. These drank the bailiff's best port and -champagne, and had nothing better than a frown or haughty look for us, -when we passed them at the landing. Whence the piper was paid I knew -not, and the bailiff cared not. But the bulk of the poor gentlemen were -a merry crew withal, and had their wit and their wine at table, and knew -each other's histories (and soon enough ours) by heart. They betted away -the week at billiards or whist or picquet or loo, and sometimes measured -swords for diversion, tho' this pastime the bailiff was greatly set -against; as calculated to deprive him of a lodger. - -Although we had no money for gaming, and little for wine or tobacco, the -captain and I were received very heartily into the fraternity. After one -afternoon of despondency we both voted it the worst of bad policy to -remain aloof and nurse our misfortune, and spent our first evening in -making acquaintances over a deal of very thin "debtor's claret." -I tossed long that night on the hard cot, listening to the scurrying rats -among the rooftimbers. They ran like the thoughts in my brain. And -before I slept I prayed again and again that God would put it in my power -to reward him whom charity for a friendless foundling had brought to a -debtor's prison. - -Not so much as a single complaint or reproach had passed his lips! - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE RESCUE - -Perchance, my dears, if John Paul and I had not been cast by accident in -a debtor's prison, this great man might never have bestowed upon our -country those glorious services which contributed so largely to its -liberty. And I might never have comprehended that the American -Revolution was brought on and fought by a headstrong king, backed by -unscrupulous followers who held wealth above patriotism. It is often -difficult to lay finger upon the causes which change the drift of a man's -opinions, and so I never wholly knew why John Paul abandoned his deep- -rooted purpose to obtain advancement in London by grace of the -accomplishments he had laboured so hard to attain. But I believe the -beginning was at the meeting at Windsor with the slim and cynical -gentleman who had treated him to something between patronage and -contempt. Then my experience with Mr. Manners had so embedded itself in -his mind that he could never speak of it but with impatience and disgust. -And, lastly, the bailiff's hotel contained many born gentlemen who had -been left here to rot out the rest of their dreary lives by friends who -were still in power and opulence. More than once when I climbed to our -garret I found the captain seated on the three-legged chair, with his -head between his hands, sunk in reflection. - -"You were right, Richard," said he; "your great world is a hard world for -those in the shadow of it. I see now that it must not be entered from -below, but from the cabin window. A man may climb around it, lad, and -when he is above may scourge it." - -"And you will scourge it, captain! "I had no doubt of his ability one -day to do it. - -"Ay, and snap my fingers at it. 'Tis a pretty organization, this -society, which kicks the man who falls to the dogs. None of your fine -gentlemen for me!" - -And he would descend to talk politics with our fellow-guests. We should -have been unhappy indeed had it not been for this pastime. It seems to -me strange that these debtors took such a keen interest in outside -affairs, even tho' it was a time of great agitation. We read with -eagerness the cast-off newspapers of the first-floor gentlemen. One poor -devil who had waddled(failed) in Change Alley had collected under his -mattress the letters of Junius, then selling the Public Advertiser as few -publications had ever sold before. John Paul devoured these attacks upon -his Majesty and his ministry in a single afternoon, and ere long he had -on the tip of his tongue the name and value of every man in Parliament -and out of it. He learned, almost by heart, the history of the -astonishing fight made by Mr. Wilkes for the liberties of England, and -speedily was as good a Whig and a better than the member from Middlesex -himself. - -The most of our companions were Tories, for, odd as it may appear, they -retained their principles even in Castle Yard. And in those days to be a -Tory was to be the friend of the King, and to be the friend of the King -was to have some hope of advancement and reward at his hand. They had -none. The captain joined forces with the speculator from the Alley, who -had hitherto contended against mighty odds, and together they bore down -upon the enemy--ay, and rooted him, too. For John Paul had an air about -him and a natural gift of oratory to command attention, and shortly the -dining room after dinner became the scene of such contests as to call up -in the minds of the old stagers a field night in the good days of Mr. -Pitt and the second George. The bailiff often sat by the door, an -interested spectator, and the macaroni lodgers condescended to come -downstairs and listen. The captain attained to fame in our little world -from his maiden address, in which he very shrewdly separated the -political character of Mr. Wilkes from his character as a private -gentleman, and so refuted a charge of profligacy against the people's -champion. - -Altho' I never had sufficient confidence in my powers to join in these -discussions, I followed them zealously, especially when they touched -American questions, as they frequently did. This subject of the wrongs -of the colonies was the only one I could ever be got to study at King -William's School, and I believe that my intimate knowledge of it gave the -captain a surprise. He fell into the habit of seating himself on the -edge of my bed after we had retired for the night, and would hold me -talking until the small hours upon the injustice of taxing a people -without their consent, and upon the multitude of measures of coercion -which the King had pressed upon us to punish our resistance. He -declaimed so loudly against the tyranny of quartering troops upon a -peaceable state that our exhausted neighbours were driven to pounding -their walls and ceilings for peace. The news of the Boston massacre -had not then reached England. - -I was not, therefore, wholly taken by surprise when he said to me one -night: - -"I am resolved to try my fortune in America, lad. That is the land for -such as I, where a man may stand upon his own merits." - -"Indeed, we shall go together, captain," I answered heartily, "if we are -ever free of this cursed house. And you shall taste of our hospitality -at Carvel Hall, and choose that career which pleases you. Faith, I could -point you a dozen examples in Annapolis of men who have made their way -without influence. But you shall have influence," I cried, glowing at -the notion of rewarding him; "you shall experience Mr. Carvel's gratitude -and mine. You shall have the best of our ships, and you will." - -He was a man to take fire easily, and embraced me. And, strange to say, -neither he nor I saw the humour, nor the pity, of the situation. How -many another would long before have become sceptical of my promises! And -justly. For I had led him to London, spent all his savings, and then got -him into a miserable prison, and yet he had faith remaining, and to -spare! - -It occurred to me to notify Mr. Dix of my residence in Castle Yard, not -from any hope that he would turn his hand to my rescue, but that he might -know where to find me if he heard from Maryland. And I penned another -letter to Mr. Carvel, but a feeling I took no pains to define compelled -me to withhold an account of Mr. Manners's conduct. And I refrained from -telling him that I was in a debtor's prison. For I believe the thought -of a Carvel in a debtor's prison would have killed him. I said only that -we were comfortably lodged in a modest part of London; that the Manners -were inaccessible (for I could not bring myself to write that they were -out of town). Just then a thought struck me with such force that I got -up with a cheer and hit the astonished captain between the shoulders. - -"How now!" he cried, ruefully rubbing himself. "If these are thy -amenities, Richard, Heaven spare me thy blows." - -"Why, I have been a fool, and worse," I shouted. "My grandfather's ship, -the Sprightly Bess, is overhauling this winter in the Severn. And unless -she has sailed, which I think unlikely, I have but to despatch a line to -Bristol to summon Captain Bell, the master, to London. I think he will -bring the worthy Mr. Dix to terms." - -"Whether he will or no," said John Paul, hope lighting his face, "Bell -must have command of the twenty pounds to free us, and will take us back -to America. For I must own, Richard, that I have no great love for -London." - -No more had I. I composed this letter to Bell in such haste that my hand -shook, and sent it off with a shilling to the bailiff's servant, that it -might catch the post. And that afternoon we had a two-shilling bottle of -port for dinner, which we shared with a broken-down parson who had been -chaplain in ordinary to my Lord Wortley, and who had preached us an -Easter sermon the day before. For it was Easter Monday. Our talk was -broken into by the bailiff, who informed me that a man awaited me in the -passage, and my heart leaped into my, throat. - -There was Banks. Thinking he had come to reproach me; I asked him rather -sharply what he wanted. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other -and looked sheepish. - -"Your pardon, sir," said he, "but your honour must be very ill-served -here." - -"Better than I should be, Banks, for I have no money," I said, wondering -if he thought me a first-floor lodger. - -He made no immediate reply to that, either, but seemed more uneasy still. -And I took occasion to note his appearance. He was exceeding neat in a -livery of his old master, which he had stripped of the trimmings. Then, -before I had guessed at his drift, he thrust his hand inside his coat and -drew forth a pile of carefully folded bank notes. - -"I be a single man, sir, and has small need of this. And and I knows -your honour will pay me when your letter comes from America." - -And he handed me five Bank of England notes of ten pounds apiece. I took -them mechanically, without knowing what I did. The generosity of the act -benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the -offer upon the impulse of it. - -"How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?" I asked -curiously. - -"No fear, sir," he replied promptly, actually brightening at the -prospect. "I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will -go to America with you, and you say the word, sir." - -I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce -knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me -again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes -upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the -sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of -a servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off, -first getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my -release. - -On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the -appearance of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us -lest he had already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's -letters contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to -keep in humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had -gone. Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I -know not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, not -daring to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,--that the -Sprightly Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over the dreary -stretch of roofs and down into a dingy court of Bernard's Inn below, when -suddenly there arose a commotion on the stairs, as of a man mounting -hastily. The door was almost flung from its hinges, some one caught me -by the shoulders, gazed eagerly into my face, and drew back. For a space -I thought myself dreaming. I searched my memory, and the name came. Had -it been Dorothy, or Mr. Carvel himself, I could not have been more -astonished, and my knees weakened under me. - -"Jack!" I exclaimed; "Lord Comyn!" - -He seized my hand. "Yes; Jack, whose life you saved, and no other," he -cried, with a sailor's impetuosity. "My God, Richard! it was true, -then; and you have been in this place for three weeks!" - -"For three weeks," I repeated. - -He looked at me, at John Paul, who was standing by in bewilderment, and -then about the grimy, cobwebbed walls of the dark garret, and then turned -his back to hide his emotion, and so met the bailiff, who was coming in. - -"For how much are these gentlemen in your books?" he demanded hotly. - -"A small matter, your Lordship,--a mere trifle," said the man, bowing. - -"How much, I say?" - -"Twenty-two guineas, five shillings, and eight pence, my Lord, counting -debts, and board,--and interest," the bailiff glibly replied; for he had -no doubt taken off the account when he spied his Lordship's coach. "And -I was very good to Mr. Carvel and the captain, as your Lordship will -discover--" - -"D--n your goodness!" said my Lord, cutting him short. - -And he pulled out a wallet and threw some pieces at the bailiff, bidding -him get change with all haste. "And now, Richard," he added, with a -glance of disgust about him, "pack up, and we'll out of this cursed -hole!" - -"I have nothing to pack, my Lord," I said. - -"My Lord! Jack, I have told you, or I leave you here." - -"Well, then, Jack, and you will," said I, overflowing with thankfulness -to God for the friends He had bestowed upon me. "But before we go a -step, Jack, you must know the man but for whose bravery I should long -ago have been dead of fever and ill-treatment in the Indies, and whose -generosity has brought him hither. My Lord Comyn, this is Captain John -Paul." - -The captain, who had been quite overwhelmed by this sudden arrival of a -real lord to our rescue at the very moment when we had sunk to despair, -and no less astonished by the intimacy that seemed to exist between the -newcomer and myself, had the presence of mind to bend his head, and that -was all. Comyn shook his hand heartily. - -"You shall not lack reward for this, captain, I promise you," cried he. -"What you have done for Mr. Carvel, you have done for me. Captain, I -thank you. You shall have my interest." - -I flushed, seeing John Paul draw his lips together. But how was his -Lordship to know that he was dealing with no common sea-captain? - -"I have sought no reward, my Lord," said he. "What I have done was out -of friendship for Mr. Carvel, solely." - -Comyn was completely taken by surprise by these words, and by the haughty -tone in which they were spoken. He had not looked for a gentleman, and -no wonder. He took a quizzical sizing of the sky-blue coat. Such a man -in such a station was out of his experience. - -"Egad, I believe you, captain," he answered, in a voice which said -plainly that he did not. "But he shall be rewarded nevertheless, eh, -Richard? I'll see Charles Fox in this matter to-morrow. Come, come," -he added impatiently, "the bailiff must have his change by now. Come, -Richard! "and he led the way down the winding stairs. - -"You must not take offence at his ways," I whispered to the captain. For -I well knew that a year before I should have taken the same tone with one -not of my class. "His Lordship is all kindness." - -"I have learned a bit since I came into England, Richard," was his sober -reply. - -"'Twas a pitiful sight to see gathered on the landings the poor fellows -we had come to know in Castle Yard, whose horizons were then as gray as -ours was bright. But they each had a cheery word of congratulation for -us as we passed, and the unhappy gentleman from Devonshire pressed my -hand and begged that I would sometime think of him when I was out under -the sky. I promised even more, and am happy to be able to say, my dears, -that I saw both him and his wife off for America before I left London. -Our eyes were wet when we reached the lower hall, and I was making for -the door in an agony to leave the place, when the bailiff came out of his -little office. - -"One moment, sir," he said, getting in front of me; "there is a little -form yet to be gone through. The haste of gentlemen to leave us is not -flattering." - -He glanced slyly at Comyn, and his Lordship laughed a little. I stepped -unsuspectingly into the office. - -"Richard!" - -I stopped across the threshold as tho' I had been struck. The late -sunlight filtering through the dirt of the window fell upon the tall -figure of a girl and lighted an upturned face, and I saw tears glistening -on the long lashes. - -It was Dorothy. Her hands were stretched out in welcome, and then I had -them pressed in my own. And I could only look and look again, for I was -dumb with joy. - -"Thank God you are alive!" she cried; "alive and well, when we feared you -dead. Oh, Richard, we have been miserable indeed since we had news of -your disappearance." - -"This is worth it all, Dolly," I said, only brokenly. - -She dropped her eyes, which had searched me through in wonder and pity,-- -those eyes I had so often likened to the deep blue of the sea,--and her -breast rose and fell quickly with I knew not what emotions. How the mind -runs, and the heart runs, at such a time! Here was the same Dorothy I -had known in Maryland, and yet not the same. For she was a woman now, -who had seen the great world, who had refused both titles and estates,-- -and perchance accepted them. She drew her hands from mine. - -"And how came you in such a place?" she asked, turning with a shudder. -"Did you not know you had friends in London, sir?" - -Not for so much again would I have told her of Mr. Manners's conduct. So -I stood confused, casting about for a reply with truth in it, when Comyn -broke in upon us. - -"I'll warrant you did not look for her here, Richard. Faith, but you are -a lucky dog," said my Lord, shaking his head in mock dolefulness; "for -there is no man in London, in the world, for whom she would descend a -flight of steps, save you. And now she has driven the length of the town -when she heard you were in a sponging-house, nor all the dowagers in -Mayfair could stop her." - -"Fie, Comyn," said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; "that -tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's -privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you -know you were full as keen for his rescue as I." - -His Lordship pinched me playfully. - -"I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me," -said he. - -"But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?" asked Dolly, -stamping her foot. - -"What," I exclaimed; "you know the story?" - -"Never mind," said she; "bring him here." - -My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul -since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and -took him by the hand. - -"A lady wishes to know you, captain," I said. - -"A lady!" he cried. "Here? Impossible!" And he looked at his clothes. - -"Who cares more for your heart than your appearance," I answered gayly, -and led him into the office. - -At sight of Dorothy he stopped abruptly, confounded, as a man who -sees a diamond in a dust-heap. And a glow came over me as I said: - -"Miss Manners, here is Captain Paul, to whose courage and unselfishness -I owe everything." - -"Captain," said Dorothy, graciously extending her hand, "Richard has many -friends. You have put us all in your debt, and none deeper than his old -playmate." - -The captain fairly devoured her with his eyes as she made him a curtsey. -But he was never lacking in gallantry, and was as brave on such occasions -as when all the dangers of the deep threatened him. With an elaborate -movement he took Miss Manners's fingers and kissed them, and then swept -the floor with a bow. - -"To have such a divinity in my debt, madam, is too much happiness for one -man," he said. "I have done nothing to merit it. A lifetime were all -too short to pay for such a favour." - -I had almost forgotten Miss Dolly the wayward, the mischievous. But she -was before me now, her eyes sparkling, and biting her lips to keep down -her laughter. Comyn turned to fleck the window with his handkerchief, -while I was not a little put out at their mirth. But if John Paul -observed it, he gave no sign. - -"Captain, I vow your manners are worthy of a Frenchman," said my Lord; -"and yet I am given to understand you are a Scotchman." - -A shadow crossed the captain's face. - -"I was, sir," he said. - -"You were!" exclaimed Comyn, astonished; "and pray, what are you now, -sir?" - -"Henceforth, my Lord," John Paul replied with vast ceremony: "I am an -American, the compatriot of the beautiful Miss Manners!" - -"One thing I'll warrant, captain," said his Lordship, "that you are a -wit." - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -A bold front is half the battle -A man ought never to be frightened by appearances -Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back -Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys -Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages) -Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur -Within every man's province to make himself what he will -Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle -Youth is in truth a mystery - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - -Volume 5. - - -XXVI. The Part Horatio played -XXVII. In which I am sore tempted -XXVIII. Arlington Street -XXIX. I meet a very Great Young Man -XXX. A Conspiracy -XXXI. "Upstairs into the World" -XXXII. Lady Tankerville's Drum-major -XXXIII. Drury Lane - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE PART HORATIO PLAYED - -The bailiff's business was quickly settled. I heard the heavy doors -close at our backs, and drew a deep draught of the air God has made for -all His creatures alike. Both the captain and I turned to the windows to -wave a farewell to the sad ones we were leaving behind, who gathered -about the bars for a last view of us, for strange as it may seem, the -mere sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad. A -coach in private arms and livery was in waiting, surrounded by a crowd. -They made a lane for us to pass, and stared at the young lady of queenly -beauty coming out of the sponging-house until the coachman snapped his -whip in their faces and the footman jostled them back. When we were got -in, Dolly and I on the back seat, Comyn told the man to go to Mr. -Manners's. - -"Oh, no!" I cried, scarce knowing what I said; "no, not there!" For the -thought of entering the house in Arlington Street was unbearable. - -Both Comyn and Dorothy gazed at me in astonishment. - -"And pray, Richard, why not'?" she asked. "Have not your old friends -the right to receive you." - -It was my Lord who saved me, for I was in agony what to say. - -"He is still proud, and won't go to Arlington Street dressed like a -bargeman. He must needs plume, Miss Manners." - -I glanced anxiously at Dorothy, and saw that she was neither satisfied -nor appeased. Well I remembered every turn of her head, and every curve -of her lip! In the meantime we were off through Cursitor Street at a -gallop, nearly causing the death of a ragged urchin at the corner of -Chancery Lane. I had forgotten my eagerness to know whence they had -heard of my plight, when some words from Comyn aroused me. - -"The carriage is Mr. Horace Walpole's, Richard. He has taken a great -fancy to you." - -"But I have never so much as clapped eyes upon him!" I exclaimed in -perplexity. - -"How about his honour with whom you supped at Windsor? how about the -landlord you spun by the neck? You should have heard the company laugh -when Horry told us that! And Miss Dolly cried out that she was sure it -must be Richard, and none other. Is it not so, Miss Manners?" - -"Really, my Lord, I can't remember," replied Dolly, looking out of the -coach window. "Who put those frightful skulls upon Temple Bar?" - -Then the mystery of their coming was clear to me, and the superior -gentleman at the Castle Inn had been the fashionable dabbler in arts and -letters and architecture of Strawberry Hill, of whom I remembered having -heard Dr. Courtenay speak, Horace Walpole. But I was then far too -concerned about Dorothy to listen to more. Her face was still turned -away from me, and she was silent. I could have cut out my tongue for my -blunder. Presently, when we were nearly out of the Strand, she turned -upon me abruptly. - -"We have not yet heard, Richard," she said, "how you got into such a -predicament." - -"Indeed, I don't know myself, Dolly. Some scoundrel bribed the captain -of the slaver. For I take it Mr. Walpole has told you I was carried off -on a slaver, if he recalled that much of the story." - -"I don't mean that," answered Dolly, impatiently. "There is something -strange about all this. How is it that you were in prison?" - -"Mr. Dix, my grandfather's agent, took me for an impostor and would -advance me no money," I answered, hard pushed. - -But Dorothy had a woman's instinct, which is often the best of -understanding. And I was beginning to think that a suspicion was at the -bottom of her questions. She gave her head an impatient fling, and, as I -feared, appealed to John Paul. - -"Perhaps you can tell me, captain, why he did not come to his friends in -his trouble." - -And despite my signals to him he replied: "In truth, my dear lady, he -haunted the place for a sight of you, from the moment he set foot in -London." - -Comyn laughed, and I felt the blood rise to my face, and kicked John Paul -viciously. Dolly retained her self-possession. - -"Pho!" says she; "for a sight of me! You seamen are all alike. For a -sight of me! And had you not strength enough to lift a knocker, sir,-- -you who can raise a man from the ground with one hand?" - -"'Twas before his tailor had prepared him, madam, and he feared to -disgrace you," the captain gravely continued, and I perceived how futile -it were to attempt to stop him. "And afterward--" - -"And afterward?" repeated Dorothy, leaning forward. - -"And afterward he went to Arlington Street with Mr. Dix to seek Mr. -Manners, that he might be identified before that gentleman. He -encountered Mr. Manners and his Grace of Something." - -"Chartersea," put in Comyn, who had been listening eagerly. Getting out -of a coach," said the captain. - -"When was this?" demanded Dorothy of me, interrupting him. Her voice was -steady, but the colour had left her face. - -"About three weeks ago." - -"Please be exact, Richard." - -"Well, if you must," said I, "the day was Tuesday, and the time about -half an hour after two." - -She said nothing for a while, trying to put down an agitation which was -beginning to show itself in spite of her effort. As for me, I was almost -wishing myself back in the sponginghouse. - -"Are you sure my father saw you?" she asked presently. - -"As clearly as you do now, Dolly," I said. - -"But your clothes? He might have gone by you in such." - -"I pray that he did, Dorothy," I replied. But I was wholly convinced -that Mr. Manners had recognized me. - -"And--and what did he say?" she asked. - -For she had the rare courage that never shrinks from the truth. I think -I have never admired and pitied her as at that moment. - -"He said to the footman," I answered, resolved to go through with it now, -"'Give the man a shilling.' That was his Grace's suggestion." - -My Lord uttered something very near an oath. And she spoke not a word -more until I handed her out in Arlington Street. The rest of us were -silent, too, Comyn now and again giving me eloquent glances expressive of -what he would say if she were not present; the captain watching her with -a furtive praise, and he vowed to me afterward she was never so beautiful -as when angry, that he loved her as an avenging Diana. But I was uneasy, -and when I stood alone with her before the house I begged her not to -speak to her father of the episode. - -"Nay, he must be cleared of such an imputation, Richard," she answered -proudly. "He may have made mistakes, but I feel sure he would never turn -you away when you came to him in trouble--you, the grandson of his old -friend, Lionel Carvel." - -"Why bother over matters that are past and gone? I would have borne an -hundred such trials to have you come to me as you came to-day, Dorothy. -And I shall surely see you again," I said, trying to speak lightly; "and -your mother, to whom you will present my respects, before I sail for -America." - -She looked up at me, startled. - -"Before you sail for America!" she exclaimed, in a tone that made me -thrill at once with joy and sadness. "And are you not, then, to see -London now you are here?" - -"Are you never coming back, Dolly?" I whispered; for I feared Mr. -Marmaduke might appear at any moment; "or do you wish to remain in -England always?" - -For an instant I felt her pressure on my hand, and then she had fled into -the house, leaving me standing by the steps looking after her. Comyn's -voice aroused me. - -"To the Star and Garter!" I heard him command, and on the way to Pall -Mall he ceased not to rate Mr. Manners with more vigour than propriety. -"I never liked the little cur, d--n him! No one likes him, Richard," he -declared. "All the town knows how Chartersea threw a bottle at him, and -were it not for his daughter he had long since been put out of White's. -Were it not for Miss Dolly I would call him out for this cowardly trick, -and then publish him." - -"Nay, my Lord, I had held that as my privilege," interrupted the captain, -"were it not, as you say, for Miss Manners." - -His Lordship shot a glance at John Paul somewhat divided between -surprise, resentment, and amusement. - -"Now you have seen the daughter, captain, you perceive it is impossible," -I hastened to interpose. - -"How in the name of lineage did she come to have such a father?" Comyn -went on. "I thank Heaven he's not mine. He's not fit to be her lackey. -I would sooner twenty times have a profligate like my Lord Sandwich for a -parent than a milk and water sop like Manners, who will risk nothing over -a crown piece at play or a guinea at Newmarket. By G--, Richard," said -his Lordship, bringing his fist against the glass with near force enough -to break the pane, "I have a notion why he did not choose to see you that -day. Why, he has no more blood than a louse!" - -I had come to the guess as soon as he, but I dared not give it voice, -nor anything but ridicule. And so we came to the hotel, the red of -departing day fading in the sky above the ragged house-line in St. -James's Street. - -It was a very different reception we got than when we had first come -there. You, my dears, who live in this Republic can have no notion of -the stir and bustle caused by the arrival of Horace Walpole's carriage -at a fashionable hotel, at a time when every innkeeper was versed in the -arms of every family of note in the three kingdoms. Our friend the -chamberlain was now humility itself, and fairly ran in his eagerness to -anticipate Comyn's demands. It was "Yes, my Lord," and "To be sure, your -Lordship," every other second, and he seized the first occasion to make -me an elaborate apology for his former cold conduct, assuring me that had -our honours been pleased to divulge the fact that we had friends in -London, such friends as my Lord Comyn and Mr. Walpole, whose great father -he had once had the distinction to serve as linkman, all would have been -well. And he was desiring me particularly to comprehend that he had been -acting under most disagreeable orders when he sent for the bailiff, -before I cut him short. - -We were soon comfortably installed in our old rooms; Comyn had sent post- -haste for Davenport, who chanced to be his own tailor, and for the whole -army of auxiliaries indispensable to a gentleman's make-up; and Mr. Dix -was notified that his Lordship would receive him at eleven on the -following morning, in my rooms. I remembered the faithful Banks with a -twinge of gratitude, and sent for him. And John Paul and I, having been -duly installed in the clothes made for us, all three of us sat down -merrily to such a supper as only the cook of the Star and Garter, who had -been chef to the Comte de Maurepas, could prepare. Then I begged Comyn -to relate the story of our rescue, which I burned to hear. - -"Why, Richard," said he, filling his glass, "had you run afoul any other -man in London, save perchance Selwyn, you'd have been drinking the -bailiff's triple-diluted for a month to come. I never knew such a brace -of fools as he and Horry for getting hold of strange yarns and making -them stranger; the wonder was that Horry told this as straight as he did. -He has written it to all his friends on the Continent, and had he not -been in dock with the gout ever since he reached town, he would have told -it at the opera, and at a dozen routs and suppers. Beg pardon, captain," -said he, turning to John Paul, "but I think 'twas your peacock coat that -saved you both, for it caught Horry's eye through the window, as you got -out of the chaise, and down he came as fast as he could hobble. - -"Horry had a little dinner to-day in Arlington Street, where he lives, -and Miss Dorothy was there. I have told you, Richard, there has been no -sensation in town equal to that of your Maryland beauty, since Lady Sarah -Lennox. You may have some notion of the old beau Horry can be when he -tries, and he is over-fond of Miss Dolly--she puts him in mind of -some canvas or other of Sir Peter's. He vowed he had been saving this -piece de resistance, as he was pleased to call it, expressly for her, -since it had to do somewhat with Maryland. 'What d'ye think I met at -Windsor, Miss Manners?' he cries, before we had begun the second course. - -"'Perhaps a repulse from his Majesty,' says Dolly, promptly. - -"'Nay,' says Mr. Walpole, making a face, for he hates a laugh at his -cost; nothing less than a young American giant, with the attire of Dr. -Benjamin Franklin and the manner of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain. But he -had a whiff of deer leather about him, and shoulders and back and legs to -make his fortune at Hockley in the Hole, had he lived two generations -since. And he had with him a strange, Scotch sea-captain, who had -rescued him from pirates, bless you, no less. That is, he said he was a -sea-captain; but he talked French like a Parisian, and quoted Shakespeare -like Mr. Burke or Dr. Johnson. He may have been M. Caron de -Beaumarchais, for I never saw him, or a soothsayer, or Cagliostro the -magician, for he guessed my name.' - -"'Guessed your name!' we cried, for the story was out of the ordinary. - -"'Just that,' answered he, and repeated some damned verse I never heard, -with Horatio in it, and made them all laugh." - -John Paul and I looked at each other in astonishment, and we, too, -laughed heartily. It was indeed an odd coincidence. - -His Lordship continued: -"'Well, be that as it may,' said Horry, 'he was an able man of sagacity, -this sea-captain, and, like many another, had a penchant for being a -gentleman. But he was more of an oddity than Hertford's beast of -Gevaudan, and was dressed like Salvinio, the monkey my Lord Holland -brought back from his last Italian tour.'" - -I have laughed over this description since, my dears, and so has John -Paul. But at that time I saw nothing funny in it, and winced with him -when Comyn repeated it with such brutal unconsciousness. However, young -Englishmen of birth and wealth of that day were not apt to consider the -feelings of those they deemed below them. - -"Come to your story. Comyn," I cut in testily. - -But his Lordship missed entirely the cause of my displeasure. - -"Listen to him!" he exclaimed good-naturedly. "He will hear of nothing -but Miss Dolly. Well, Richard, my lad, you should have seen her as Horry -went on to tell that you had been taken from Maryland, with her head -forward and her lips parted, and a light in those eyes of hers to make a -man fall down and worship. For Mr. Lloyd, or some one in your Colony, -had written of your disappearance, and I vow bliss Dorothy has not been -the same since. Nor have I been the only one to remark it," said he, -waving off my natural protest at such extravagance. "We have talked of -you more than once, she and I, and mourned you for dead. But I am off my -course again, as we sailors say, captain. Horry was describing how -Richard lifted little Goble by one hand and spun all the dignity out of -him, when Miss Manners broke in, being able to contain herself no longer. - -"'An American, Mr. Walpole, and from Maryland?' she demanded. And the -way she said it made them all look at her. - -"'Assurement, mademoiselle,' replied Horry, in his cursed French; and -perhaps you know him. He would gladden the heart of Frederick of -Prussia, for he stands six and three if an inch. I took such a fancy to -the lad that I invited him to sup with me, and he gave me back a message -fit for Mr. Wilkes to send to his Majesty, as haughty as you choose, that -if I desired him I must have his friend in the bargain. You Americans -are the very devil for independence, Miss Manners! 'Ods fish, I liked -his spirit so much I had his friend, Captain something or other--'and -there he stopped, caught by Miss Manners's appearance, for she was very -white. - -"'The name is Richard Carvel!' she cried. - -"'I'll lay a thousand it was!' I shouted, rising in my chair. And the -company stared, and Lady Pembroke vowed I had gone mad. - -"'Bless me, bless me, here's a romance for certain!' cried Horry; 'it -throws my "Castle of Otranto" in the shade' (that's some damned book he -has written," Comyn interjected). "You may not believe me, Richard, when -I say that Miss Dolly ate but little after that, and her colour came and -went like the red of a stormy sunset at sea. 'Here's this dog Richard -come to spill all our chances,' I swore to myself. The company had been -prodigiously entertained by the tale, and clamoured for more, and when -Horry had done I told how you had fought me at Annapolis, and had saved -my life. But Miss Manners sat very still, biting her lip, and I knew she -was sadly vexed that you had not gone to her in Arlington Street. For a -woman will reason thus," said his Lordship, winking wisely. "But I more -than suspected something to have happened, so I asked Horry to send his -fellow Favre over to the Star and Garter to see if you were there, tho' -I was of three minds to let you go to the devil. You should have seen -her face when he came back to say that you had been for three weeks in a -Castle Yard sponging-house! Then Horry said he would lend me his coach, -and when it was brought around Miss Manners took our breaths by walking -downstairs and into it, nor would she listen to a word of the objections -cried by my Lady Pembroke and the rest. You must know there is no -stopping the beauty when she has made her mind. And while they were all -chattering on the steps I jumped in, and off we drove, and you will be -the most talked-of man in London to-morrow. I give you Miss Manners!" -cried his Lordship, as he ended. - -We all stood to the toast, I with my blood a-tingle and my brain awhirl, -so that I scarce knew what I did. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -IN WHICH I AM SORE TEMPTED - -"Who the devil is this John Paul, and what is to become of him?" asked -Comyn, as I escorted him downstairs to a chair. "You must give him two -hundred pounds, or a thousand, if you like, and let him get out. He -can't be coming to the clubs with you." - -And he pulled me into the coffee room after him. - -"You don't understand the man, Comyn," said I; "he isn't that kind, -I tell you. What he has done for me is out of friendship, as he says, -and he wouldn't touch a farthing save what I owe him." - -"Cursed if he isn't a rum sea-captain," he answered, shrugging his -shoulders; "cursed if I ever ran foul of one yet who would refuse a -couple of hundred and call quits. What's he to do? Is he to live like a -Lord of the Treasury upon a master's savings?" - -"Jack," said I, soberly, resolved not to be angry, "I would willingly be -cast back in Castle Yard to-night rather than desert him, who might have -deserted me twenty times to his advantage. Mr. Carvel has not wealth -enough, nor I gratitude enough, to reward him. But if our family can -make his fortune, it shall be made. And I am determined to go with him -to America by the first packet I can secure." - -He clutched my arm with an earnestness to startle me. - -"You must not leave England now," he said. - -"And why?" - -"Because she will marry Chartersea if you do. And take my oath upon it, -you alone can save her from that." - -"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply. - -"Listen, Richard. Mr. Manners's manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and -the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street. At -first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit. It is said," he -whispered fearfully, "it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in -his power,--some question of honour, you understand, which will ruin -him,--and that even now the duke is in a position to force the marriage." - -He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho' -watching the effect of the intelligence upon me. I was, indeed, stunned. - -"Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice," my Lord -continued, "I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel. -And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man -alive. For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning." - -"Oh, no!" I replied passionately; "you are deceived by the old liking she -has always had for me since we were children together." I was deeply -touched by his friendship. "But tell me how that could affect this -marriage with Chartersea. I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice -for the family honour." - -He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick. - -"There, curse you, there you are again!" he said, "showing how little you -know of women and of their pride. If she were sure that you loved her, -she would never marry Chartersea or any one else. She has had near the -whole of London at her feet, and toyed with it. Now she has been amusing -herself with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them. Titles, -fame, estates, will not move her." - -"If she were sure that I loved her!" I repeated, dazed by what he was -saying. "How you are talking, Comyn!" - -"Just that. Ah, how I know her, Richard! She can be reckless beyond -notion. And if it were proved to her that you were in love with Miss -Swain, the barrister's daughter, over whom we were said to have fought, -she would as soon marry Chartersea, or March, or the devil, to show you -how little she cared." - -"With Patty Swain!" I exclaimed. - -"But if she knew you did not care a rope's end for Patty, Mr. Marmaduke -and his reputation might go into exile together," he continued, without -heeding. "So much for a woman's pride, I say. The day the news of your -disappearance arrived, Richard, she was starting out with a party to -visit Lord Carlisle's seat, Castle Howard. Not a step would she stir, -though Mr. Marmaduke whined and coaxed and threatened. And I swear to -you she has never been the same since, though few but I know why. I -might tell you more, my lad, were it not a breach of confidence." - -"Then don't," I said; for I would not let my feelings run. - -"Egad, then, I will!" he cried impetuously, "for the end justifies it. -You must know that after the letter came from Mr. Lloyd, we thought you -dead. I could never get her to speak of you until a fortnight ago. We -both had gone with a party to see Wanstead and dine at the Spread Eagle -upon the Forest, and I stole her away from the company and led her out -under the trees. My God, Richard, how beautiful she was in the wood -with the red in her cheeks and the wind blowing her black hair! For the -second time I begged her to be Lady Comyn. Fool that I was, I thought -she wavered, and my heart beat as it never will again. Then, as she -turned away, from her hand slipped a little gold-bound purse, and as I -picked it up a clipping from a newspaper fluttered out. 'Yon my soul, -it was that very scandalous squib of the Maryland Gazette about our duel! -I handed it back with a bow. I dared not look up at her face, but stood -with my eyes on the ground, waiting. - -"'Lord Comyn,' says she, presently, with a quiver in her voice, 'before I -give you a reply you must first answer, on your word as a gentleman, what -I ask you.' - -"I bowed again. - -"'Is it true that Richard Carvel was in love with Miss Swain?' she -asked." - -"And you said, Comyn," I broke in, unable longer to contain myself, "you -said--" - -"I said: 'Dorothy, if I were to die to-morrow, I would swear Richard -Carvel loved you, and you only.'" - -His Lordship had spoken with that lightness which hides only the deepest -emotion. - -"And she refused you?" I cried. "Oh, surely not for that!" - -"And she did well," said my Lord. - -I bowed my head on my arms, for I had gone through a great deal that day, -and this final example of Comyn's generosity overwhelmed me. Then I felt -his hand laid kindly on my shoulder, and I rose up and seized it. His -eyes were dim, as were mine. - -"And now, will you go to Maryland and be a fool?" asked his Lordship. - -I hesitated, sadly torn between duty and inclination. John Paul could, -indeed, go to America without me. Next the thought came over me in a -flash that my grandfather might be ill, or even dead, and there would be -no one to receive the captain. I knew he would never consent to spend -the season at the Star and Garter at my expense. And then the image of -the man rose before me, of him who had given me all he owned, and gone -with me so cheerfully to prison, though he knew me not from the veriest -adventurer and impostor. I was undecided no longer. - -"I must go, Jack," I said sadly; "as God judges, I must." - -He looked at me queerly, as if I were beyond his comprehension, picked up -his hat, called out that he would see me in the morning, and was gone. - -I went slowly upstairs, threw off my clothes mechanically, and tumbled -into bed. The captain had long been asleep. By the exertion of all the -will power I could command, I was able gradually to think more and more -soberly, and the more I thought, the more absurd, impossible, it seemed -that I, a rough provincial not yet of age, should possess the heart of a -beauty who had but to choose from the best of all England. An hundred -times I went over the scene of poor Comyn's proposal, nay, saw it -vividly, as though the whole of it had been acted before me: and as I -became calmer, the plainer I perceived that Dorothy, thinking me dead, -was willing to let Comyn believe that she had loved me, and had so eased -the soreness of her refusal. Perhaps, in truth, a sentiment had sprung -up in her breast when she heard of my disappearance, which she mistook -for love. But surely the impulse that sent her to Castle Yard was not -the same as that Comyn had depicted: it was merely the survival of the -fancy of a little girl in a grass-stained frock, who had romped on the -lawn at Carvel Hall. I sighed as I remembered the sun and the flowers -and the blue Chesapeake, and recalled the very toss of her head when she -had said she would marry nothing less than a duke. - -Alas, Dolly, perchance it was to be nothing more than a duke! The -bloated face and beady eyes and the broad crooked back I had seen that -day in Arlington Street rose before me,--I should know his Grace of -Chartersea again were I to meet him in purgatory. Was it, indeed, -possible that I could prevent her marriage with this man? I fell asleep, -repeating the query, as the dawn was sifting through the blinds. - -I awakened late. Banks was already there to dress me, to congratulate me -as discreetly as a well-trained servant should; nor did he remind me of -the fact that he had offered to lend me money, for which omission I liked -him the better. In the parlour I found the captain sipping his chocolate -and reading his morning Chronicle, as though all his life he had done -nothing else. - -"Good morning, captain." And fetching him a lick on the back that nearly -upset his bowl, I cried as heartily as I could: - -"Egad, if our luck holds, we'll be sailing before the week is out." - -But he looked troubled. He hemmed and hawed, and finally broke out into -Scotch: - -"Indeed, laddie, y'ell no be leaving Miss Dorothy for me." - -"What nonsense has Comyn put into your head?" I demanded, with a stitch -in my side; I am no more to Miss Manners than--" - -"Than John Paul! Faith, y'ell not make me believe that. Ah, Richard," -said he, "ye're a sly dog. You and I have been as thick these twa months -as men can well live, and never a word out of you of the most sublime -creature that walks. I have seen women in many countries, lad, beauties -to set thoughts afire and swords a-play,--and 'tis not her beauty alone. -She hath a spirit for a queen to covet, and air and carriage, too." - -This eloquent harangue left me purple. - -"I grant it all, captain. She has but to choose her title and estate." - -"Ay, and I have a notion which she'll be choosing." - -"The knowledge is worth a thousand pounds at the least," I replied. -"I will lend you the sum, and warrant no lack of takers." - -"Now the devil fly off with such temperament! And I had half the -encouragement she has given you, I would cast anchor on the spot, and -they might hang and quarter me to move me. But I know you well," he -exclaimed, his manner changing, "you are making this great sacrifice on -my account. And I will not be a drag on your pleasures, Richard, or -stand in the way of your prospects." - -"Captain Paul," I said, sitting down beside him, "have I deserved this -from you? Have I shown a desire to desert you now that my fortunes have -changed? I have said that you shall taste of our cheer at Carvel Hall, -and have looked forward this long while to the time when I shall take you -to my grandfather and say: 'Mr. Carvel, this is he whose courage and -charity have restored you to me, and me to you.' And he will have -changed mightily if you do not have the best in Maryland. Should you -wish to continue on the sea, you shall have the Belle of the Wye, -launched last year. 'Tis time Captain Elliott took to his pension." - -The captain sighed, and a gleam I did not understand came into his dark -eyes. - -"I would that God had given me your character and your heart, Richard," -he said, "in place of this striving thing I have within me. But 'tis -written that a leopard cannot change his spots." - -"The passage shall be booked this day," I said. - -That morning was an eventful one. Comyn arrived first, dressed in a suit -of mauve French cloth that set off his fine figure to great advantage. -He regarded me keenly as he entered, as if to discover whether I had -changed my mind over night. And I saw he was not in the best of tempers. - -"And when do you sail?" he cried. "I have no doubt you have sent out -already to get passage." - -"I have been trying to persuade Mr. Carvel to remain in London, my Lord," -said the captain. "I tell him he is leaving his best interests behind -him." - -"I fear that for once you have undertaken a task beyond your ability, -Captain Paul," was the rather tart reply. - -"The captain has a ridiculous idea that he is the cause of my going," I -said quickly. - -John Paul rose somewhat abruptly, seized his hat and bowed to his -Lordship, and in the face of a rain sallied out, remarking that he had -as yet seen nothing of the city. - -"Jack, you must do me the favour not to talk of this in John Paul's -presence," I said, when the door had closed. - -"If he doesn't suspect why you are going, he has more stupidity than I -gave him credit for," Comyn answered gruffly. - -"I fear he does suspect," I said. - -His Lordship went to the table and began to write, leaving me to the -Chronicle, the pages of which I did not see. Then came Mr. Dix, and -such a change I had never beheld in mortal man. In place of the would- -be squire I had encountered in Threadneedle Street, here was an unctuous -person of business in sober gray; but he still wore the hypocritical -smirk with no joy in it. His bow was now all respectful obedience. -Comyn acknowledged it with a curt nod. - -Mr. Dix began smoothly, where a man of more honesty would have found the -going difficult. - -"Mr. Carvel," he said, rubbing his hands, "I wish first to express my -profound regrets for what has happened." - -"Curse your regrets," said Comyn, bluntly. "You come here on business. -Mr. Carvel does not stand in need of regrets at present." - -"I was but on the safe side of Mr. Carvel's money, my Lord." - -"Ay, I'll warrant you are always on the safe side of money," replied -Comyn, with a laugh. "What I wish to know, Mr. Dix," he continued," is -whether you are willing to take my word that this is Mr. Richard Carvel, -the grandson and heir of Lionel Carvel, Esquire, of Carvel Hall in -Maryland?" - -"I am your Lordship's most obedient servant," said Mr. Dix. - -"Confound you, sir! Can you or can you not answer a simple question?" - -Mr. Dix straightened. He may have spoken elsewhere of asserting his -dignity. - -"I would not presume to doubt your Lordship's word." - -"Then, if I were to be personally responsible for such sums as Mr. Carvel -may need, I suppose you would be willing to advance them to him." - -"Willingly, willingly, my Lord," said Mr. Dix, and added immediately: -"Your Lordship will not object to putting that in writing? Merely a -matter of form, as your Lordship knows, but we men of affairs are held to -a strict accountability." - -Comyn made a movement of disgust, took up a pen and wrote out the -indorsement. - -"There," he said. "You men of affairs will at least never die of -starvation." - -Mr. Dix took the paper with a low bow, began to shower me with -protestations of his fidelity to my grandfather's interests, which were -one day to be my own,--he hoped, with me, not soon,--drew from his pocket -more than sufficient for my immediate wants, said that I should have more -by a trusty messenger, and was going on to clear himself of his former -neglect and indifference, when Banks announced: - -"His honour, Mr. Manners!" - -Comyn and I exchanged glances, and his Lordship gave a low whistle. Nor -was the circumstance without its effect upon Mr. Dix. With my knowledge -of the character of Dorothy's father I might have foreseen this visit, -which came, nevertheless, as a complete surprise. For a moment I -hesitated, and then made a motion to show him up. Comyn voiced my -decision. - -"Why let the little cur stand in the way?" he said; "he counts for -nothing." - -Mr. Marmaduke was not long in ascending, and tripped into the room as Mr. -Dix backed out of it, as gayly as tho' he had never sent me about my -business in the street. His clothes, of a cherry cut velvet, were as ever -a little beyond the fashion, and he carried something I had never before -seen, then used by the extreme dandies in London,--an umbrella. - -"What! Richard Carvel! Is it possible?" he screamed in his piping -voice. "We mourned you for dead, and here you turn up in London alive -and well, and bigger and stronger than ever. Oons! one need not go to -Scripture for miracles. I shall write my congratulations to Mr. Carvel -this day, sir." And he pushed his fingers into my waistcoat, so that -Comyn and I were near to laughing in his face. For it was impossible to -be angry with a little coxcomb of such pitiful intelligence. - -"Ah, good morning, my Lord. I see your Lordship has risen early in the -same good cause, I myself am up two hours before my time. You will -pardon the fuss I am making over the lad, Comyn, but his grandfather is -my very dear friend, and Richard was brought up with my daughter Dorothy. -They were like brother and sister. What, Richard, you will not take my -hand! Surely you are not so unreasonable as to hold against me that -unfortunate circumstance in Arlington Street! Yes, Dorothy has shocked -me. She has told me of it." - -Comyn winked at me as I replied:-- - -"We shan't mention it, Mr. Manners. I have had my three weeks in prison, -and perhaps know the world all the better for them." - -He held up his umbrella in mock dismay, and stumbled abruptly into a -chair. There he sat looking at me, a whimsical uneasiness on his face. -"We shall indeed mention it, sir. Three weeks in prison, to think of it! -And you would not so much as send me a line. Ah, Richard, pride is a -good thing, but I sometimes think we from Maryland have too much of it. -We shall indeed speak of the matter. Out of justice to me you must -understand how it occurred. You must know that I am deucedly -absentminded, and positively lost without my glass. And I had somebody -with me, so Dorothy said. Chartersea, I believe. And his Grace made me -think you were a cursed beggar. I make a point never to have to do with -'em." - -"You are right, Mr. Manners," Comyn cut in dryly; "for I have known them -to be so persistently troublesome, when once encouraged, as to interfere -seriously with our arrangements." - -"Eh!" Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I -wondered whether the shot had told. To relieve him I inquired after Mrs. -Manners's health. - -"Ah, to be sure," he replied, beginning to fumble in his skirts; "London -agrees with her remarkably, and she is better than she has been for -years. And she is overjoyed at your most wonderful escape, Richard, -as are we all." - -And he gave me a note. I concealed my eagerness as I took it and broke -the seal, to discover that it was not from Dorothy, but from Mrs. Manners -herself. - - "My dear Richard" (so it ran), "I thank God with your dear - Grandfather over y'r Deliverance, & you must bring y'r Deliverer, - whom Dorothy describes as Courtly and Gentlemanly despite his - Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him - our Gratitude. I know you are far too Sensible not to come to - Arlington Street. I subscribe myself, Richard, y'r sincere Friend, - - "MARGARET MANNERS." - -There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped. But -the letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the -affection she had always had for me. I honoured her the more that she -had not attempted to excuse Mr. Manners's conduct. - -"You will come, Richard?" cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at -heartiness. "You must come, and the captain, too. For I hear, with -regret, that you are not to be long with us." - -I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window -curtains. But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul. -Mr. Manners rose to take his leave. - -"Dorothy will be glad to see you," he said. "I often think, Richard, -that she tires of these generals and King's ministers, and longs for a -romp at Wilmot House again. Alas," he sighed, offering us a pinch of -snuff (which he said was the famous Number 37), "alas, she has had a deal -too much of attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen others -would to marry her. I fear she will go soon," and he sighed again. -"Upon my soul I cannot make her out. I'll lay something handsome, my -Lord, that the madcap adventure with you after Richard sets the gossips -going. One day she is like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for not -taking her mother's advice to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden House; -and the next, egad, she is as difficult to approach as a crowned head. -Well, gentlemen, I give you good day, I have an appointment at White's. -I am happy to see you have fallen in good hands, Richard. My Lord, your -most obedient!" - -"He'll lay something handsome!" said my Lord, when the door had closed -behind him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -ARLINGTON STREET - -The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,--being -ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,--I left him a message and -betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy's house. The -door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered -me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told me -the ladies were not at home. But I had not gone a dozen paces in my -disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour -were Mr. Richard Carvel. - -"The ladies will see your honour," he said, and conducted me back into -the house and up the wide stairs. I had heard that Arlington Street was -known as the street of the King's ministers, and I surmised that Mr. -Manners had rented this house, and its furniture, from some great man who -had gone out of office, plainly a person of means and taste. The hall, -like that of many of the great town-houses, was in semi-darkness, but I -remarked that the stair railing was of costly iron-work and polished -brass; and, as I went up, that the stone niches in the wall were filled -with the busts of statesmen, and I recognized among these, that of the -great Walpole. A great copper gilt chandelier hung above. But the -picture of the drawing-room I was led into, with all its colours, remains -in the eye of my mind to this day. It was a large room, the like of -which I had never seen in any private residence of the New World, -situated in the back of the house. Its balcony overlooked the fresh -expanse of the Green Park. Upon its high ceiling floated Venus and the -graces, by Zucchi; and the mantel, upon which ticked an antique and -curious French clock, was carved marble. - -On the gilt panels of the walls were wreaths of red roses. At least a -half-dozen tall mirrors, framed in rococos, were placed about, the -largest taking the space between the two high windows on the park side. -And underneath it stood a gold cabinet, lacquered by Martin's inimitable -hand, in the centre of which was set a medallion of porcelain, with the -head in dark blue of his Majesty, Charles the First. The chairs and -lounges were marquetry,--satin-wood and mahogany,--with seats and backs -of blue brocade. The floor was polished to the degree of danger, and on -the walls hung a portrait by Van Dycke, another, of a young girl, by -Richardson, a landscape by the Dutch artist Ruysdael, and a water-colour -by Zaccarelli. - -I had lived for four months the roughest of lives, and the room brought -before me so sharply the contrast between my estate and the grandeur and -elegance in which Dorothy lived, that my spirits fell as I looked about -me. In front of me was a vase of flowers, and beside them on the table -lay a note "To Miss Manners, in Arlington Street," and sealed with a -ducal crest. I was unconsciously turning it over, when something -impelled me to look around. There, erect in the doorway, stood Dolly, -her eyes so earnestly fixed upon me that I dropped the letter with a -start. A faint colour mounted to her crown of black hair. - -"And so you have come, Richard," she said. Her voice was low, and tho' -there was no anger in it, the tone seemed that of reproach. I wondered -whether she thought the less of me for coming. - -"Can you blame me for wishing to see you before I leave, Dolly?" I -cried, and crossed quickly over to her. - -But she drew a step backward. - -"Then it is true that you are going," said she, this time with a plain -note of coldness. - -"I must, Dorothy." - -"When?" - -"As soon as I can get passage." - -She passed me and seated herself on the lounge, leaving me to stand like -a lout before her, ashamed of my youth and of the clumsiness of my great -body. - -"Ah, Richard," she laughed, "confess to your old play mate! I should -like to know how many young men of wealth and family would give up the -pleasures of a London season were there not a strong attraction in -Maryland." - -How I longed to tell her that I would give ten years of my life to remain -in England: that duty to John Paul took me home. But I was dumb. - -"We should make a macaroni of you to amaze our colony," said Dolly, -lightly, as I sat down a great distance away; "to accept my schooling -were to double your chances when you return, Richard. You should have -cards to everything, and my Lord Comyn or Mr. Fox or some one would -introduce you at the clubs. I vow you would be a sensation, with your -height and figure. You should meet all the beauties of England, and -perchance," she added mischievously, "perchance you might be taking one -home with you." - -"Nay, Dolly," I answered; "I am not your match in jesting." - -"Jesting!" she exclaimed, "I was never more sober. But where is your -captain?" - -I said that I hoped that John Paul would be there shortly. - -"How fanciful he is! And his conversation,--one might think he had -acquired the art at Marly or in the Fauxbourg. In truth, he should have -been born on the far side of the Channel. And he has the air of the -great man," said she, glancing up at ms, covertly. "For my part, I -prefer a little more bluntness." - -I was nettled at the speech. Dorothy had ever been quick to seize upon -and ridicule the vulnerable oddities of a character, and she had all the -contempt of the great lady for those who tried to scale by pleasing arts. -I perceived with regret that she had taken a prejudice. - -"There, Dorothy," I cried, "not even you shall talk so of the captain. -For you have seen him at his worst. There are not many, I warrant you, -born like him a poor gardener's son who rise by character and ability to -be a captain at three and twenty. And he will be higher yet. He has -never attended any but a parish school, and still has learning to -astonish Mr. Walpole, learning which he got under vast difficulties. -He is a gentleman, I say, far above many I have known, and he is a man. -If you would know a master, you should see him on his own ship. If you -would know a gentleman, you have been with me in his mother's cottage." -And, warming as I talked, I told her of that saddest of all homecomings -to the little cabin under Criffel's height. - -Small wonder that I adored Dorothy! - -Would that I could paint her moods, that I might describe the strange -light in her eyes when I had finished, that I might tell how in an -instant she was another woman. She rose impulsively and took a chair at -my side, and said:-- - -"'Tis so I love to hear you speak, Richard, when you uphold the absent. -For I feel it is so you must champion me when I am far away. My dear old -playmate is ever the same, strong to resent, and seeing ever the best in -his friends. Forgive me, Richard, I have been worse than silly. And -will you tell me that story of your adventures which I long to learn?" - -Ay, that I would. I told it her, and she listened silently, save only -now and then a cry of wonder or of sympathy that sounded sweet to my -ears,--just as I had dreamed of her listening when I used to pace the -deck of the brigantine John, at sea. And when at length I had finished, -she sat looking out over the Green Park, as tho' she had forgot my -presence. - -And so Mrs. Manners came in and found us. - -It had ever pleased me to imagine that Dorothy's mother had been in her -youth like Dorothy. She had the same tall figure, grace in its every -motion, and the same eyes of deep blue, and the generous but well-formed -mouth. A man may pity, but cannot conceive the heroism that a woman of -such a mould must have gone through who has been married since early -girlhood to a man like Mr. Manners. Some women would have been driven -quickly to frivolity, and worse, but this one had struggled year after -year to maintain an outward serenity to a critical world, and had -succeeded, tho' success had cost her dear. Each trial had deepened a -line of that face, had done its share to subdue the voice which had once -rung like Dorothy's; and in the depths of her eyes lingered a sadness -indefinable. - -She gazed upon me with that kindness and tenderness I had always received -since the days when, younger and more beautiful than now, she was the -companion of my mother. And the unbidden shadow of a thought came to me -that these two sweet women had had some sadness in common. Many a -summer's day I remembered them sewing together in the spring-house, -talking in subdued voices which were hushed when I came running in. And -lo! the same memory was on Dorothy's mother then, half expressed as she -laid her hands upon my shoulders. - -"Poor Elizabeth!" she said,--not to me, nor yet to Dorothy; "I wish that -she might have lived to see you now. It is Captain Jack again." - -She sighed, and kissed me. And I felt at last that I had come home after -many wanderings. We sat down, mother and daughter on the sofa with their -fingers locked. She did not speak of Mr. Manners's conduct, or of my -stay in the sponging-house. And for this I was thankful. - -"I have had a letter from Mr. Lloyd, Richard," she said. - -"And my grandfather?" I faltered, a thickness in my throat. - -"My dear boy," answered Mrs. Manners, gently, "he thinks you dead. But -you have written him?" she added hurriedly. - -I nodded. "From Dumfries." - -"He will have the letter soon," she said cheerfully. "I thank Heaven -I am able to tell you that his health is remarkable under the -circumstances. But he will not quit the house, and sees no one except -your uncle, who is with him constantly." - -It was what I expected. But the confirmation of it brought me to my feet -in a torrent of indignation, exclaiming: - -"The villain! You tell me he will allow Mr. Carvel to see no one?" - -She started forward, laying her hand on my arm, and Dorothy gave a little -cry. - -"What are you saying, Richard? What are you saying?" - -"Mrs. Manners," I answered, collecting myself, "I must tell you that I -believe it is Grafton Carvel himself that is responsible for my -abduction. He meant that I should be murdered." - -Then Dorothy rose, her eyes flashing and her head high. - -"He would have murdered you--you, Richard?" she cried, in such a storm -of anger as I had never seen her. "Oh, he should hang for the thought -of it! I have always suspected Grafton Carvel capable of any crime!" - -"Hush, Dorothy," said her mother; "it is not seemly for a young girl to -talk so." - -"Seemly!" said Dorothy. "If I were a man I would bring him to justice, -and it took me a lifetime. Nay, if I were a man and could use a sword--" - -"Dorothy! Dorothy!" interrupted Mrs. Manners. - -Dorothy sat down, the light lingering in her eyes. She had revealed more -of herself in that instant than in all her life before. - -"It is a grave charge, Richard," said Mrs. Manners, at length. "And your -uncle is a man of the best standing in Annapolis." - -"You must remember his behaviour before my mother's marriage, Mrs. -Manners." - -"I do, I do, Richard," she said sadly. "And I have never trusted him -since. I suppose you are not making your accusation without cause?" - -"I have cause enough," I answered bitterly. - -"And proof?" she added. She should have been the man in her family. - -I told her how Harvey had overheard the bits of the plot at Carvel Hall -near two years gone; and now that I had begun, I was going through with -Mr. Allen's part in the conspiracy, when Dorothy startled us both by -crying: - -"Oh, there is so much wickedness in the world, I wish I had never been -born!" - -She flung herself from the room in a passion of tears to shock me. -As if in answer to my troubled look, Mrs. Manners said, with a sigh: - -"She has not been at all well, lately, Richard. I fear the gayety of -this place is too much for her. Indeed, I am sorry we ever left -Maryland." - -I was greatly disturbed, and thought involuntarily of Comyn's words. -Could it be that Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry Chartersea? - -"And has Mr. Lloyd said nothing of my uncle?" I asked after a while. - -"I will not deny that ugly rumours are afloat," she answered. "Grafton, -as you know, is not liked in Annapolis, especially by the Patriot party. -But there is not the slightest ground for suspicion. The messenger--" - -"Yes?" - -"Your uncle denies all knowledge of. He was taken to be the tool of the -captain of the slaver, and he disappeared so completely that it was -supposed he had escaped to the ship. The story goes that you were seized -for a ransom, and killed in the struggle. Your black ran all the way to -town, crying the news to those he met on the Circle and in West Street, -but by the mercy of God he was stopped by Mr. Swain and some others -before he had reached your grandfather. In ten minutes a score of men -were galloping out of the Town Gate, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Singleton ahead. -They found your horse dead, and the road through the woods all trampled -down, and they spurred after the tracks down to the water's edge. -Singleton recalled a slaver, the crew of which had been brawling at the -Ship tavern a few nights before. But the storm was so thick they could -not see the ship's length out into the river. They started two fast -sloops from the town wharves in chase, and your uncle has been moving -heaven and earth to obtain some clew of you. He has put notices in the -newspapers of Charlestown, Philadelphia, New York, and even Boston, and -offered a thousand pounds reward." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -I MEET A VERY GREAT YOUNG MAN - -The French clock had struck four, and I was beginning to fear that, -despite my note, the captain's pride forbade his coming to Mr. Manners's -house, when in he walked, as tho' 'twere no novelty to have his name -announced. And so straight and handsome was he, his dark eye flashing -with the self-confidence born in the man, that the look of uneasiness I -had detected upon Mrs. Manners's face quickly changed to one of surprise -and pleasure. Of course the good lady had anticipated a sea-captain of -a far different mould. He kissed her hand with a respectful grace, and -then her daughter's, for Dorothy had come back to us, calmer. And I was -filled with joy over his fine appearance. Even Dorothy was struck by the -change the clothes had made in him. Mrs. Manners thanked him very -tactfully for restoring me to them, as she was pleased to put it, to -which John Paul modestly replied that he had done no more than another -would under the same circumstances. And he soon had them both charmed by -his address. - -"Why, Richard," said Dorothy's mother aside to me, "surely this cannot be -your sea-captain!" - -I nodded merrily. But John Paul's greatest triumph was yet to come. For -presently Mr. Marmaduke arrived from White's, and when he had greeted me -with effusion he levelled his glass at the corner of the room. - -"Ahem!" he exclaimed."Pray, my dear, whom have you invited to-day?" And -without awaiting her reply, as was frequently his habit, he turned to me -and said: "I had hoped we were to have the pleasure of Captain Paul's -company, Richard. For I must have the chance before you go of clasping -the hand of your benefactor." - -"You shall have the chance, at least, sir," I replied, a fiery exultation -in my breast. "Mr. Manners, this is my friend, Captain Paul." - -The captain stood up and bowed gravely at the little gentleman's blankly -amazed countenance. - -"Ahem," said he; "dear me, is it possible!" and advanced a step, but the -captain remained immovable. Mr. Marmaduke fumbled for his snuff-box, -failed to find it, halted, and began again, for he never was known to -lack words for long: "Captain, as one of the oldest friends of Mr. Lionel -Carvel, I claim the right to thank you in his name for your gallant -conduct. I hear that you are soon to see him, and to receive his -obligations from him in person. You will not find him lacking, sir, -I'll warrant." - -Such was Mr. Marmaduke's feline ingenuity! I had a retort ready, and -I saw that Mrs. Manners, long tried in such occasions, was about to pour -oil on the waters. But it was Dorothy who exclaimed: - -"What captain! are you, too, going to Maryland?" - -John Paul reddened. - -"Ay, that he is, Dolly," I cut in hurriedly. "Did you imagine I would -let him escape so easily? Henceforth as he has said, he is to be an -American." - -She flashed at me such a look as might have had a dozen different -meanings, and in a trice it was gone again under her dark lashes. - -Dinner was got through I know not how. Mr. Manners led the talk, and -spoke more than was needful concerning our approaching voyage. He was at -great pains to recommend the Virginia packet, which had made the fastest -passage from the Capes; and she sailed, as was no doubt most convenient, -the Saturday following. I should find her a comfortable vessel, and he -would oblige me with a letter to Captain Alsop. Did Captain Paul know -him? But the captain was describing West Indian life to Mrs. Manners. -Dorothy had little to say; and as for me, I was in no very pleasant -humour. - -I gave a deaf ear to Mr. Marmaduke's sallies, to speculate on the nature -of the disgrace which Chartersea was said to hold over his head. And -twenty times, as I looked upon Dolly's beauty, I ground my teeth at the -notion of returning home. I have ever been slow of suspicion, but -suddenly it struck me sharply that Mr. Manners's tactics must have a -deeper significance than I had thought. Why was it that he feared my -presence in London? - -As we made our way back to the drawing-room, I was hoping for a talk with -Dolly (alas! I should not have many more), when I heard a voice which -sounded strangely familiar. - -"You know, Comyn," it was saying, "you know I should be at the Princess's -were I not so completely worn out. I was up near all of last night with -Rosette." - -Mr. Marmaduke, entering before us, cried:-- - -"The dear creature! I trust you have had medical attendance, Mr. -Walpole." - -"Egad!" quoth Horry (for it was he), "I sent Favre to Hampstead to fetch -Dr. Pratt, where he was attending some mercer's wife. It seems that -Rosette had got into the street and eaten something horrible out of the -kennel. I discharged the footman, of course." - -"A plague on your dog, Horry," said my Lord, yawning, and was about to -add something worse, when he caught sight of Dorothy. - -Mr. Walpole bowed over her hand. - -"And have you forgotten so soon your Windsor acquaintances, Mr. Walpole?" -she asked, laughing. - -"Bless me," said Horry, looking very hard at me, "so it is, so it is. -Your hand, Mr. Carvel. You have only to remain in London, sir, to -discover that your reputation is ready-made. I contributed my mite. -For you must know that I am a sort of circulating library of odd news -which those devils, the printers, contrive to get sooner or later--Heaven -knows how! And Miss Manners herself has completed your fame. Yes, the -story of your gallant rescue is in all the clubs to-day. Egad, sir, you -come down heads up, like a loaded coin. You will soon be a factor in -Change Alley." And glancing slyly at the blushing Dolly, he continued: - -"I have been many things, Miss Manners, but never before an instrument of -Providence. And so you discovered your rough diamond yesterday, and have -polished him in a day. O that Dr. Franklin had profited as well by our -London tailors! The rogue never told me, when he was ordering me about -in his swan-skin, that he had a friend in Arlington Street, and a -reigning beauty. But I like him the better for it." - -"And I the worse," said Dolly. - -"I perceive that he still retains his body-guard," said Mr. Walpole; -"Captain--" - -"Paul," said Dolly, seeing that we would not help him out. - -"Ah, yes. These young princes from the New World must have their suites. -You must bring them both some day to my little castle at Strawberry -Hill." - -"Unfortunately, Mr. Walpole, Mr. Carvel finds that he must return to -America," Mr. Marmaduke interjected. He had been waiting to get in this -word. - -Comyn nudged me. And I took the opportunity, in the awkward silence that -followed, to thank Mr. Walpole for sending his coach after us. - -"And pray where did you get your learning?" he demanded abruptly of the -captain, in his most patronizing way. "Your talents are wasted at sea, -sir. You should try your fortune in London, where you shall be under my -protection, sir. They shall not accuse me again of stifling young -genius. Stay," he cried, warming with generous enthusiasm, "stay, I have -an opening. 'Twas but yesterday Lady Cretherton told me that she stood -in need of a tutor for her youngest son, and you shall have the -position." - -"Pardon me, sir, but I shall not have the position," said John Paul, -coolly. And Horry might have heeded the danger signal. I had seen it -more than once on board the brigantine John, and knew what was coming. - -"Faith, and why not, sir? If I recommend you, why not, sir?" - -"Because I shall not take it," he said. "I have my profession, Mr. -Walpole, and it is an honourable one. And I would not exchange it, sir, -were it in your power to make me a Gibbon or a Hume, or tutor to his -Royal Highness, which it is not." - -Thus, for the second time, the weapon of the renowned master of -Strawberry was knocked from his hand at a single stroke of his strange -adversary. I should like to describe John Paul as he made that speech, ---for 'twas not so much the speech as the atmosphere of it. Those who -heard and saw were stirred with wonder, for Destiny lay bare that -instant, just as the powers above are sometimes revealed at a single -lightning-bolt. Mr. Walpole made a reply that strove hard to be -indifferent; Mr. Marmaduke stuttered, for he was frightened, as little -souls are apt to be at such times. But my Lord Comyn, forever natural, -forever generous, cried out heartily:-- - -"Egad, captain, there you are a true sailor! Which would you rather -have been, I say, William Shakespeare or Sir Francis?" - -"Which would you rather be, Richard," said Dolly to me, under her breath, -"Horace Walpole or Captain John Paul? I begin to like your captain -better." - -Willy nilly, Mr. Walpole was forever doing me a service. Now, in order -to ignore the captain more completely, he sat him down to engage Mr. -and Mrs. Manners. Comyn was soon hot in an argument with John Paul -concerning the seagoing qualities of a certain frigate, every rope and -spar of which they seemed to know. And so I stole a few moments with -Dorothy. - -"You are going to take the captain to Maryland, Richard?" she asked, -playing with her fan. - -"I intend to get him the Belle of the Tye. 'Tis the least I can do. -For I am at my wits' end how to reward him, Dolly. And when are you -coming back?" I whispered earnestly, seeing her silent. - -"I would that I knew, Richard," she replied, with a certain sadness that -went to my heart, as tho' the choice lay beyond her. Then she changed. -"Richard, there was more in Mr. Lloyd's letter than mamma told you of. -There was ill news of one of your friends." - -"News!" - -She looked at me fixedly, and then continued, her voice so low that I was -forced to bend over: - -"Yes. You were not told that Patty Swain fell in a faint when she heard -of your disappearance. You were not told that the girl was ill for a -week afterwards. Ah, Richard, I fear you are a sad flirt. Nay, you may -benefit by the doubt,--perchance you are going home to be married." - -You may be sure that this intelligence, from Dorothy's lips, only -increased my trouble and perplexity. - -"You say that Patty has been ill?" - -"Very ill," says she, with her lips tight closed. - -"Indeed, I grieve to hear of it," I replied; "but I cannot think that my -accident had anything to do with the matter." - -"Young ladies do not send their fathers to coffee-houses to prevent duels -unless their feelings are engaged," she flung back. - -"You have heard the story of that affair, Dorothy. At least enough of it -to do me justice." - -She was plainly agitated. - -"Has Lord Comyn--" - -"Lord Comyn has told you the truth," I said; "so much I know." - -Alas for the exits and entrances of life! Here comes the footman. - -"Mr. Fox," said he, rolling the name, for it was a great one. - -Confound Mr. Fox! He might have waited five short minutes. - -It was, in truth, none other than that precocious marvel of England who -but a year before had taken the breath from the House of Commons, and had -sent his fame flying over the Channel and across the wide Atlantic; the -talk of London, who set the fashions, cringed not before white hairs, or -royalty, or customs, or institutions, and was now, at one and twenty, -Junior Lord of the Admiralty--Charles James Fox. His face was dark, -forbidding, even harsh--until he smiled. His eyebrows were heavy and -shaggy, and his features of a rounded, almost Jewish mould. He put me -in mind of the Stuarts, and I was soon to learn that he was descended -from them. - -As he entered the room I recall remarking that he was possessed of the -supremest confidence of any man I had ever met. Mrs. Manners he greeted -in one way, Mr. Marmaduke in another, and Mr. Walpole in still another. -To Comyn it was "Hello, Jack," as he walked by him. Each, as it were, -had been tagged with a particular value. - -Chagrined as I was at the interruption, I was struck with admiration. -For the smallest actions of these rare men of master passions so compel -us. He came to Dorothy, whom he seemed not to have perceived at first, -and there passed between them such a look of complete understanding that -I suddenly remembered Comyn's speech of the night before, "Now it is -Charles Fox." Here, indeed, was the man who might have won her. And yet -I did not hate him. Nay, I loved him from the first time he addressed -me. It was Dorothy who introduced us. - -"I think I have heard of you, Mr. Carvel," he said, making a barely -perceptible wink at Comyn. - -"And I think I have heard of you, Mr. Fox," I replied. - -"The deuce you have, Mr. Carvel!" said he, and laughed. And Comyn -laughed, and Dorothy laughed, and I laughed. We were friends from that -moment. - -"Richard has appeared amongst us like a comet," put in the ubiquitous Mr. -Manners, "and, I fear, intends to disappear in like manner." - -"And where is the tail of this comet?" demanded Fox, instantly; "for I -understood there was a tail." - -John Paul was brought up, and the Junior Lord of the Admiralty looked him -over from head to toe. And what, my dears, do you think he said to him? - -"Have you ever acted, Captain Paul?" - -The captain started back in surprise. - -"Acted!" he exclaimed; "really, sir, I do not know. I have never been -upon the boards." - -Mr. Fox vowed that he could act: that he was sure of it, from the -captain's appearance. - -"And I, too, am sure of it, Mr. Fox," cried Dorothy; clapping her hands. -"Persuade him to stay awhile in London, that you may have him at your -next theatricals at Holland House. Why, he knows Shakespeare and Pope -and--and Chaucer by heart, and Ovid and Horace,--is it not so, Mr. -Walpole?" - -"Is not what so, my dear young lady? "asked Mr. Walpole, pretending not -to have heard. - -"There!" exclaimed Dolly, pouting, when the laughter had subsided; "you -make believe to care something about me, and yet will not listen to what -I say." - -I had seen at her feet our own Maryland gallants, the longest of whose -reputations stretched barely from the James to the Schuylkill; but here -in London men were hanging on her words whose names were familiarly -spoken in Paris, and Rome, and Geneva. Not a topic was broached by Mr. -Walpole or Mr. Fox, from the remonstrance of the Archbishop against -masquerades and the coming marriage of my Lord Albemarle to the rights -and wrongs of Mr. Wilkes, but my lady had her say. Mrs. Manners seemed -more than content that she should play the hostess, which she did to -perfection. She contrived to throw poisoned darts at the owner of -Strawberry that started little Mr. Marmaduke to fidgeting in his seat, -and he came to the rescue with all the town-talk at his command. He knew -little else. Could Mr. Walpole tell him of this club of both sexes just -started at Almack's? Mr. Walpole could tell a deal, tho' he took the -pains first to explain that he was becoming too old for such frivolous -and fashionable society. He could not, for the life of him, say why he -was included. But, in spite of Mr. Walpole, John Paul was led out in the -paces that best suited him, and finally, to the undisguised delight of -Mr. Fox, managed to trip Horry upon an obscure point in Athenian -literature. And this broke up the company. - -As we took our leave Dorothy and Mr. Fox were talking together with -lowered voices. - -"I shall see you before I go," I said to her. - -She laughed, and glanced at Mr. Fox. - -"You are not going, Richard Carvel," said she. - -"That you are not, Richard Carvel," said Mr. Fox. - -I smiled, rather lamely, I fear, and said good night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -A CONSPIRACY - -"Banks, where is the captain?" I asked, as I entered the parlour the next -morning. - -"Gone, sir, since seven o'clock," was the reply. Gone!" I exclaimed; -"gone where?" - -"Faith, I did not ask his honour, sir." - -I thought it strange, but reflected that John Paul was given to whims. -Having so little time before him, he had probably gone to see the sights -he had missed yesterday: the Pantheon, which was building, an account of -which had appeared in all the colonial papers; or the new Blackfriars -Bridge; or the Tower; or perhaps to see his Majesty ride out. The -wonders of London might go hang, for all I cared. Who would gaze at the -King when he might look upon Dorothy! I sighed. I bade Banks dress me -in the new suit Davenport had brought that morning, and then sent him off -to seek the shipping agent of the Virginia packet to get us a cabin. I -would go to Arlington Street as soon as propriety admitted. - -But I had scarce finished my chocolate and begun to smoke in a pleasant -revery, when I was startled by the arrival of two gentlemen. One was -Comyn, and the other none less than Mr. Charles Fox. - -"Now where the devil has your captain flown to?" said my Lord, tossing -his whip on the table. - -"I believe he must be sight-seeing," I said. "I dare swear he has taken -a hackney coach to the Tower." - -"To see the liberation of the idol of the people, I'll lay ten guineas. -But they say the great Mr. Wilkes is to come out quietly, and wishes no -demonstration," said Mr. Fox. "I believe the beggar has some sense, if -the--Greek--would only let him have his way. So your captain is a -Wilkite, Mr. Carvel?" he demanded. - -"I fear you run very fast to conclusions, Mr. Fox," I answered, laughing, -tho' I thought his guess was not far from wrong. - -"I'll lay you the ten guineas he has been to the Tower," said Mr. Fox, -promptly. - -"Done, sir," said I. - -"Hark ye, Richard," said Comyn, stretching himself in an arm-chair; "we -are come to take the wind out of your sails, and leave you without an -excuse for going home. And we want your captain, alive or dead. -Charles, here, is to give him a commission in his Majesty's Navy." - -Then I knew why Dorothy had laughed when I had spoken of seeing her -again. Comyn--bless him!--had told her of his little scheme. - -"Egad, Charles!" cried his Lordship, "to look at his glum face, one -might think we were a couple of Jews who had cornered him." - -Alas for the perversity of the heart! Instead of leaping for joy, -as no doubt they had both confidently expected, I was both troubled and -perplexed by this unlooked-for news. Oak, when bent, is even harder to -bend back again. And so it has ever been with me. I had determined, -after a bitter struggle, to go to Maryland, and had now become used to -that prospect. I was anxious to see my grandfather, and to confront -Grafton Carvel with his villany. And there was John Paul. What would -he think? - -"What ails you, Richard?" Comyn demanded somewhat testily. - -"Nothing, Jack," I replied. "I thank you from my heart, and you, Mr. -Fox. I know that commissions are not to be had for the asking, and I -rejoice with the captain over his good fortune. But, gentlemen," I said -soberly, "I had most selfishly hoped that I might be able to do a service -to John Paul in return for his charity to me. You offer him something -nearer his deserts, something beyond my power to give him." - -Fox's eyes kindled. - -"You speak like a man, Mr. Carvel," said he. "But you are too modest. -Damn it, sir, don't you see that it is you, and no one else, who has -procured this commission? Had I not been taken with you, sir, I should -scarce have promised it to your friend Comyn, through whose interest you -obtain it for your protege." - -I remembered what Mr. Fox's enemies said of him, and smiled at the -plausible twist he had given the facts. - -"No," I said; "no, Mr. Fox; never that. The captain must not think that -I wish to be rid of him. I will not stand in the way, though if it is to -be offered him, he must comprehend that I had naught to do with the -matter. But, sir," I continued curiously, "what do you know of John -Paul's abilities as an officer?" - -Mr. Fox and Comyn laughed so immoderately as to bring the blood to my -face. - -"Damme!" cried the Junior Lord, "but you Americans have odd consciences! -Do you suppose Rigby was appointed Paymaster of the Forces because of his -fitness? Why was North himself made Prime Minister? For his abilities? -"And he broke down again. "Ask Jack, here, how he got into the service, -and how much seamanship he knows." - -"Faith," answered Jack, unblushingly, "Admiral Lord Comyn, my father, -wished me to serve awhile. And so I have taken two cruises, delivered -some score of commands, and scarce know a supple jack from a can of flip. -Cursed if I see the fun of it in these piping times o' peace, so I have -given it up, Richard. For Charles says this Falkland business with Spain -will blow out of the touch-hole." - -I could see little to laugh over. For the very rottenness of the service -was due to the miserable and servile Ministry and Parliament of his -Majesty, by means of which instruments he was forcing the colonies to the -wall. Verily, that was a time when the greatness of England hung in the -balance! How little I suspected that the young man then seated beside -me, who had cast so unthinkingly his mighty powers on the side of -corruption, was to be one of the chief instruments of her salvation! -We were to fight George the Third across the seas. He was to wage no -less courageous a battle at home, in the King's own capital. And the -cause? Yes, the cause was to be the same as that of the Mr. Wilkes he -reviled, who obtained his liberty that day. - -At length John Paul came in, calling my name. He broke off abruptly at -sight of the visitors. - -"Now we shall decide," said Mr. Fox. "Captain, I have bet Mr. Carvel ten -guineas you have been to the Tower to see Squinting Jack(John Wilkes) get -his liberty at last." - -The captain looked astonished. - -"Anan, then, you have lost, Richard," said he. "For I have been just -there." - -"And helped, no doubt, to carry off the champion on your shoulders," said -Mr. Fox, sarcastically, as I paid the debt. - -"Mr. Wilkes knows full well the value of moderation, sir," replied the -captain, in the same tone. - -"Well, damn the odds!" exclaimed the Junior Lord, laughing. "You may -have the magic number tattooed all over your back, for all I care. You -shall have the commission." - -"The commission?" - -"Yes," said Fox, carelessly; "I intend making you a lieutenant, sir, in -the Royal Navy." - -The moment the words were out I was a-tremble as to how he would take the -offer. For he had a certain puzzling pride, which flew hither and -thither. But there was surely no comparison between the situations of -the master of the Belle of the Wye and an officer in the Royal Navy. -There, his talents would make him an admiral, and doubtless give him the -social position he secretly coveted. He confounded us all by his answer. - -"I thank you, Mr. Fox. But I cannot accept your kindness." - -"Slife!" said Fox, "you refuse? And you know what you are doing?" - -"I know usually, sir." - -Comyn swore. My exclamation had something of relief in it. - -"Captain," I said, "I felt that I could not stand in the way of this. It -has been my hope that you will come with me, and I have sent this morning -after a cabin on the Virginia. You must know that Mr. Fox's offer is his -own, and Lord Comyn's." - -"I know it well, Richard. I have not lived these three months with you -for nothing." His voice seemed to fail him. He drew near me and took my -hand. "But did you think I would require of you the sacrifice of leaving -London now?" - -"It is my pleasure as well as my duty, captain." - -"No," he said, "I am not like that. Yesterday I went to the city to see -a shipowner whose acquaintance I made when he was a master in the West -India trade. He has had some reason to know that I can handle a ship. -Never mind what. And he has given me the bark 'Betsy', whose former -master is lately dead of the small-pox. Richard, I sail to-morrow." - - -In Dorothy's coach to Whitehall Stairs, by the grim old palace out of -whose window Charles the Martyr had walked to his death. For Dorothy had -vowed it was her pleasure to see John Paul off, and who could stand in -her way? Surely not Mr. Marmaduke! and Mrs. Manners laughingly -acquiesced. Our spirits were such that we might have been some honest -mercer's apprentice and his sweetheart away for an outing. - -"If we should take a wherry, Richard," said Dolly, "who would know of it? -I have longed to be in a wherry ever since I came to London." - -The river was smiling as she tripped gayly down to the water, and the -red-coated watermen were smiling, too, and nudging one another. But -little cared we! Dolly in holiday humour stopped for naught. "Boat, -your honour! Boat, boat! To Rotherhithe--Redriff? Two and six apiece, -sir." For that intricate puzzle called human nature was solved out of -hand by the Thames watermen. Here was a young gentleman who never heard -of the Lord Mayor's scale of charges. And what was a shilling to such as -he! Intricate puzzle, indeed! Any booby might have read upon the young -man's face that secret which is written for all,--high and low, rich and -poor alike. - -My new lace handkerchief was down upon the seat, lest Dolly soil her -bright pink lutestring. She should have worn nothing else but the hue of -roses. How the bargemen stared, and the passengers craned their necks, -and the longshoremen stopped their work as we shot past them! On her -account a barrister on the Temple Stairs was near to letting fall his bag -in the water. A lady in a wherry! Where were the whims of the quality -to lead them next? Past the tall water-tower and York Stairs, the idlers -under the straight row of trees leaning over the high river wall; past -Adelphi Terrace, where the great Garrick lived; past the white columns of -Somerset House, with its courts and fountains and alleys and architecture -of all ages, and its river gate where many a gilded royal barge had lain, -and many a fine ambassador had arrived in state over the great highway of -England; past the ancient trees in the Temple Gardens. And then under -the new Blackfriars Bridge to Southwark, dingy with its docks and -breweries and huddled houses, but forever famous,--the Southwark of -Shakespeare and Jonson and Beaumont and Fletcher. And the shelf upon -which they stood in the library at Carvel Hall was before my eyes. - -"Yes," said Dolly; "and I recall your mother's name written in faded ink -upon the fly-leaves." - -Ah, London Town, by what subtleties are you tied to the hearts of those -born across the sea? That is one of the mysteries of race. - -Under the pointed arches of old London Bridge, with its hooded shelters -for the weary, to where the massive Tower had frowned for ages upon the -foolish river. And then the forest of ships, and the officious throng of -little wherries and lighters that pressed around them, seeming to say, -"You clumsy giants, how helpless would you be without us!" Soon our own -wherry was dodging among them, ships brought hither by the four winds of -the seas; many discharging in the stream, some in the docks then -beginning to be built, and hugging the huge warehouses. Hides from -frozen Russia were piled high beside barrels of sugar and rum from the -moist island cane-fields of the Indies, and pipes of wine from the -sunny hillsides of France, and big boxes of tea bearing the hall-mark of -the mysterious East. Dolly gazed in wonder. And I was commanded to show -her a schooner like the Black Moll, and a brigantine like the John. - -"And Captain Paul told me you climbed the masts, Richard, and worked like -a common seaman. Tell me," says she, pointing at the royal yard of a -tall East Indiaman, "did you go as high as that when it was rough?" - -And, hugely to the boatman's delight, the minx must needs put her fingers -on the hard welts on my hands, and vow she would be a sailor and she were -a man. But at length we came to a trim-built bark lying off Redriff -Stairs, with the words "Betsy, of London," painted across her stern. In -no time at all, Captain Paul was down the gangway ladder and at the -water-side, too hand Dorothy out. - -"This honour overwhelms me, Miss Manners," he said; "but I know whom to -thank for it." And he glanced slyly at me. - -Dorothy stepped aboard with the air of Queen Elizabeth come to inspect -Lord Howard's flagship. - -"Then you will thank me," said she. "Why, I could eat my dinner off your -deck, captain! Are all merchantmen so clean?" - -John Paul smiled. - -"Not all, Miss Manners," he said. - -"And you are still sailing at the ebb?" I asked. - -"In an hour, Richard, if the wind holds good." - -With what pride he showed us over his ship, the sailors gaping at the -fine young lady. It had taken him just a day to institute his navy -discipline. And Dolly went about exclaiming, and asking an hundred -questions, and merrily catechising me upon the run of the ropes. All was -order and readiness for dropping down the stream when he led us into his -cabin, where he had a bottle of wine and some refreshments laid out -against my coming. - -"Had I presumed to anticipate your visit, Miss Manners, I should have had -something more suitable for a lady," he said. "What, you will not eat, -either, Richard?" - -I could not, so downcast had I become at the thought of parting. -I had sat up half the night before with him in restless argument and -indecision, and even when he had left for Rotherhithe, early that -morning, my mind had not been made. My conscience had insisted that I -should sail with John Paul; that I might never see my deaf grandfather on -earth again. I had gone to Arlington Street that morning resolved to say -farewell to Dorothy. I will not recount the history of that defeat, my -dears. Nay, to this day I know not how she accomplished the matter. Not -once had she asked me to remain, or referred to my going. Nor had I -spoken of it, weakling that I was. She had come down in the pink -lutestring, smiling but pale; and traces of tears in her eyes, I thought. -From that moment I knew that I was defeated. It was she herself who had -proposed going with me to see the Betsy sail. - -"I will drink some Madeira to wish you Godspeed, captain," I said. - -"What is the matter with you, Richard?" Dolly cried; "you are as sour as -my Lord Sandwich after a bad Newmarket. Why, captain," said she, "I -really believe he wants to go, too. The swain pines for his provincial -beauty." - -Poor John Paul! He had not yet learned that good society is seldom -literal. - -"Upon my soul, Miss Manners, there you do him wrong," he retorted, with -ludicrous heat; "you, above all, should know for whom he pines." - -"He has misled you by praising me. This Richard, despite his frank -exterior, is most secretive." - -"There you have hit him, Miss Manners," he declared; "there you have hit -him! We were together night and day, on the sea and on the road, and, -while I poured out my life to him, the rogue never once let fall a hint -of the divine Miss Dorothy. 'Twas not till I got to London that I knew -of her existence, and then only by a chance. You astonish me. You speak -of a young lady in Maryland?" - -Dorothy swept aside my protest. - -"Captain," says she, gravely, "I leave you to judge. What is your -inference, when he fights a duel about a Miss with my Lord Comyn?" - -"A duel!" cried the captain, astounded. - -"Miss Manners persists in her view of the affair, despite my word to the -contrary," I put in rather coldly. - -"But a duel!" cried the captain again; "and with Lord Comyn! Miss -Manners, I fondly thought I had discovered a constant man, but you make -me fear he has had as many flames as I. And yet, Richard," he added -meaningly, "I should think shame on my conduct and I had had such a -subject for constancy as you." - -Dorothy's armour was pierced, and my ill-humour broken down, by this -characteristic speech. We both laughed, greatly to his discomfiture. - -"You had best go home with him, Richard," said Dolly. "I can find my way -back to Arlington Street alone." - -"Nay; gallantry forbids his going with me now," answered John Paul; "and -I have my sailing orders. But had I known of this, I should never have -wasted my breath in persuading him to remain." - -"And did he stand in need of much persuasion, captain?" asked Dolly, -archly. - -Time was pressing, and the owner came aboard, puffing,--a round-faced, -vociferous, jolly merchant, who had no sooner got his breath than he lost -it again upon catching sight of Dolly. - -While the captain was giving the mate his final orders, Mr. Orchardson, -for such was his name, regaled us with a part of his life's history. He -had been a master himself, and mangled and clipped King George's English -as only a true master might. - -"I like your own captain better than ever, Richard," whispered Dolly, -while Mr. Orchardson relieved himself of his quid over the other side; -"how commanding he is! Were I to take passage in the Betsy, I know I -should be in love with him long before we got to Norfolk." - -I took it upon myself to tell Mr. Orchardson, briefly and clearly as I -could, the lamentable story of John Paul's last cruise. For I feared it -might sooner or later reach his ears from prejudiced mouths. And I ended -by relating how the captain had refused a commission in the navy because -he had promised to take the Betsy. This appeared vastly to impress him, -and he forgot Dorothy's presence. - -"Passion o' my 'eart, Mr. Carvel," cried he, excitedly, - -"John Paul's too big a man, an' too good a seaman, to go into the navy -without hinflooence. If flag horfocers I roots of is booted haside to -rankle like a lump o' salt butter in a gallipot, 'ow will a poor Scotch -lieutenant win hadvancement an' he be not o' the King's friends? 'Wilkes -an' Liberty,' say I; 'forever,' say I. An' w'en I see 'im goin' to the -Tower to be'old the Champion, 'Captain Paul,' says I, 'yere a man arfter -my hown 'eart.' My heye, sir, didn't I see 'im, w'n a mere lad, take the -John into Kingston 'arbour in the face o' the worst gale I hever seed -blowed in the Caribbees? An' I says, 'Bill Horchardson, an' ye Never -'ave ships o' yere own, w'ich I 'ope will be, y'ell know were to look -for a marster.' An' I tells 'im that same, Mr. Carvel. I means no -disrespect to the dead, sir, but an' John Paul 'ad discharged the Betsy, -I'd not 'a' been out twenty barrels or more this day by Thames mudlarks -an' scuffle hunters. 'Eave me flat, if 'e'll be two blocks wi' liquor -an' dischargin' cargo. An' ye may rest heasy, Mr. Carvel, I'll not do -wrong by 'im, neither." - -He told me that if I would honour him in Maid Lane, Southwark, I should -have as many pounds as I liked of the best tobacco ever cured in Cuba. -And so he left me to see that the mate had signed all his lighter bills, -shouting to the captain not to forget his cockets at Gravesend. Dolly -and I stood silent while the men hove short, singing a jolly song to the -step. With a friendly wave the round figure of Mr. Orchardson -disappeared over the side, and I knew that the time had come to say -farewell. I fumbled in my waistcoat for the repeater I had bought that -morning over against Temple Bar, in Fleet Street, and I thrust it into -John Paul's hand as he came up. - -"Take this in remembrance of what you have suffered so unselfishly for my -sake, Captain Paul," I said, my voice breaking. "And whatever befalls -you, do not forget that Carvel Hall is your home as well as mine." - -He seemed as greatly affected as was I. Tears forced themselves to his -eyes as he held the watch, which he opened absently to read the simple -inscription I had put there. - -"Oh, Dickie lad!" he cried, "I'll be missing ye sair three hours hence, -and thinking of ye for months to come in the night watches. But -something tells me I'll see ye again." - -And he took me in his arms, embracing me with such fervour that there was -no doubting the sincerity of his feelings. - -"Miss Dorothy," said he, when he was calmer, "I give ye Richard for a -leal and a true heart. Few men are born with the gift of keeping the -affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest. But have no -fear of Richard Carvel." - -Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of -the deepening skies at twilight. - -"Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain," she said gently. Then, with a -quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch -at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: "In token of my gratitude for -bringing him back to us." - -John Paul raised it to his lips. - -"I shall treasure it, Miss Manners, as a memento of the greatest joy of -my life. And that has been," gracefully taking her hand and mine, "the -bringing you two together again." - -Dorothy grew scarlet as she curtseyed. As for me, I could speak never a -word. He stepped over the side to hand her into the wherry, and embraced -me once again. And as we rowed away he waved his hat in a last good-by -from the taffrail. Then the Betsy floated down the Thames. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -"UPSTAIRS INTO THE WORLD" - -It will be difficult, my dears, without bulging this history out of all -proportion, to give you a just notion of the society into which I fell -after John Paul left London. It was, above all, a gaming society. From -that prying and all-powerful God of Chance none, great or small, escaped. -Guineas were staked and won upon frugal King George and his beef and -barley-water; Charles Fox and his debts; the intrigues of Choiseul and -the Du Barry and the sensational marriage of the Due d'Orleans with -Madame de Montesson (for your macaroni knew his Paris as well as his -London); Lord March and his opera singer; and even the doings of Betty, -the apple-woman of St. James's Street, and the beautiful barmaid of -Nando's in whom my Lord Thurlow was said to be interested. All these, -and much more not to be repeated, were duly set down in the betting-books -at White's and Brooks's. - -Then the luxury of the life was something to startle a provincial, even -tho' he came, as did I, from one of the two most luxurious colonies of -the thirteen. Annapolis might be said to be London on a small scale,-- -but on a very small scale. The historian of the future need look no -farther than our houses (if any remain), to be satisfied that we had more -than the necessities of existence. The Maryland aristocrat with his town -place and his country place was indeed a parallel of the patrician at -home. He wore his English clothes, drove and rode his English horses, -and his coaches were built in Long Acre. His heavy silver service came -from Fleet Street, and his claret and Champagne and Lisbon and Madeira -were the best that could be bought or smuggled. His sons were often -educated at home, at Eton or Westminster and Oxford or Cambridge. So -would I have been if circumstances had permitted. So was James -Fotheringay, the eldest of the family, and later the Dulany boys, and -half a dozen others I might mention. And then our ladies! 'Tis but -necessary to cite my Aunt Caroline as an extreme dame of fashion, who had -her French hairdresser, Piton. - -As was my aunt to the Duchess of Kingston, so was Annapolis to London. -To depict the life of Mayfair and of St. James's Street during a season -about the year of grace 1770 demands a mightier pen than wields the -writer of these simple memoirs. - -And who was responsible for all this luxury and laxity? Who but the -great Mr. Pitt, then the Earl of Chatham, whose wise policy had made -Britain the ruler of the world, and rich beyond compare. From all -corners of the earth her wealth poured in upon her. Nabob and Caribbee -came from East and West to spend their money in the capital. And -fortunes near as great were acquired by the City merchants themselves. -One by one these were admitted within that charmed circle, whose motto -for ages had been "No Trade," to leaven it with their gold. And to keep -the pace,--nay, to set it, the nobility and landed gentry were sore -pressed. As far back as good Queen Anne, and farther, their ancestors -had gamed and tippled away the acres; and now that John and William, -whose forebears had been good tenants for centuries, were setting their -faces to Liverpool and Birmingham and Leeds, their cottages were empty. -So Lord and Squire went to London to recuperate, and to get their share -of the game running. St. James's Street and St. Stephen's became their -preserves. My Lord wormed himself into a berth in the Treasury, robbed -the country systematically for a dozen of years, and sold the places and -reversions under him to the highest bidder. Boroughs were to be had -somewhat dearer than a pair of colours. And my Lord spent his spare -time--he had plenty of it--in fleecing the pigeons at White's and -Almack's. Here there was no honour, even amongst thieves. And young -gentlemen were hurried through Eton and Oxford, where they learned -to drink and swear and to call a main as well as to play tennis and -billiards and to write Latin, and were thrust into Brooks's before they -knew the difference in value between a farthing and a banknote: at -nineteen they were hardened rake, or accomplished men of the world, or -both. Dissipated noblemen of middle age like March and Sandwich, wits -and beaus and fine gentlemen like Selwyn and Chesterfield and Walpole, -were familiarly called by their first names by youngsters like Fox and -Carlisle and Comyn. Difference of age was no difference. Young Lord -Carlisle was the intimate of Mr. Selwyn, born thirty years before him. - -And whilst I am speaking of intimacies, that short one which sprang up -between me and the renowned Charles Fox has always seemed the most -unaccountable: not on my part, for I fell a victim to him at once. Pen -and paper, brush and canvas, are wholly inadequate to describe the charm -of the man. When he desired to please, his conversation and the -expression of his face must have moved a temperament of stone itself. -None ever had more devoted friends or more ardent admirers. They saw his -faults, which he laid bare before them, but they settled his debts again -and again, vast sums which he lost at Newmarket and at Brooks's. And not -many years after the time of which I now write Lord Carlisle was paying -fifteen hundred a year on the sum he had loaned him, cheerfully denying -himself the pleasures of London as a consequence. - -It was Mr. Fox who discovered for me my lodgings in Dover Street, vowing -that I could not be so out of fashion as to live at an inn. The brief -history of these rooms, as given by him, was this: "A young cub had owned -them, whose mamma had come up from Berkshire on Thursday, beat him -soundly on Friday, paid his debts on Saturday, and had taken him back -on Sunday to hunt with Sir Henry the rest of his life." Dorothy came one -day with her mother and swept through my apartments, commanded all the -furniture to be moved about, ordered me to get pictures for the walls, -and by one fell decree abolished all the ornaments before the landlady, -used as she was to the ways of quality, had time to gasp. - -"Why, Richard," says my lady, "you will be wanting no end of pretty -things to take back to Maryland when you go. You shall come with me -to-morrow to Mr. Josiah Wedgwood's, to choose some of them." - -"Dorothy!" says her mother, reprovingly. - -"And he must have the Chippendale table I saw yesterday at the -exhibition, and chairs to match. And every bachelor should have a punch -bowl--Josiah has such a beauty!" - -But I am running far ahead. Among the notes with which my table was -laden, Banks had found a scrawl. This I made out with difficulty to -convey that Mr. Fox was not attending Parliament that day. If Mr. Carvel -would do him the honour of calling at his lodging, over Mackie's Italian -Warehouse in Piccadilly, at four o'clock, he would take great pleasure in -introducing him at Brooks's Club. In those days 'twas far better for a -young gentleman of any pretensions to remain at home than go to London -and be denied that inner sanctuary,--the younger club at Almack's. Many -the rich brewer's son has embittered his life because it was not given -him to see more than the front of the house from the far side of Pall -Mall. But to be taken there by Charles Fox was an honour falling to few. -I made sure that Dolly was at the bottom of it. - -Promptly at four I climbed the stairs and knocked at Mr. Fox's door. The -Swiss who opened it shook his head dubiously when I asked for his master, -and said he had not been at home that day. - -"But I had an appointment to meet him," I said, thinking it very strange. - -The man's expression changed. - -"An appointment, sir! Ah, sir, then you are to step in here." And to my -vast astonishment he admitted me into a small room at one side of the -entrance. It was bare as poverty, and furnished with benches, and -nothing more. On one of these was seated a person with an unmistakable -nose and an odour of St. Giles's, who sprang to his feet and then sat -down again dejectedly. I also sat down, wondering what it could mean, -and debating whether to go or stay. - -"Exguse me, your honour," said the person, "but haf you seen Mister Fox?" - -I said that I, too, was waiting for him, whereat he cast at me a cunning -look beyond my comprehension. Surely, I thought, a man of Fox's -inherited wealth and position could not be living in such a place! -Before the truth and humour of the situation had dawned upon me, I heard -a ringing voice without, swearing in most forcible English, and the door -was thrown open, admitting a tall young gentleman, as striking as I have -ever seen. He paid not the smallest attention to the Jew, who was bowing -and muttering behind me. - -"Mr. Richard Carvel?" said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye. - -I bowed. - -"Gad's life, Mr. Carvel, I'm deuced sorry this should have happened. -Will you come with me?" - -"Exguse me, your honour!" cried the other visitor. - -"Now, what the plague, Aaron!" says he; "you wear out the stairs. Come -to-morrow, or the day after." - -"Ay, 'tis always 'to-morrow' with you fine gentlemen. But I vill bring -the bailiffs, so help me--" - -"Damn 'em!" says the tall young gentleman, as he slammed the door and so -shut off the wail. "Damn 'em, they worry Charles to death. If he would -only stick to quinze and picquet, and keep clear of the hounds,' he need -never go near a broker. - - [The "hounds," it appears, were the gentlemen of sharp practices at - White's and Almack's.--D. C. C.] - -Do you have Jews in America, Mr. Carvel?" Without waiting for an answer, -he led me through a parlour, hung with pictures, and bewilderingly -furnished with French and Italian things, and Japan and China ware and -bronzes, and cups and trophies. "My name is Fitzpatrick, Mr. Carvel,-- -yours to command, and Charles's. I am his ally for offence and defence. -We went to school together," he explained simply. - -His manner was so free, and yet so dignified, as to charm me completely. -For I heartily despised all that fustian trumpery of the age. Then came -a voice from beyond, calling:-- - -"That you, Carvel? Damn that fellow Eiffel, and did he thrust you into -the Jerusalem Chamber?" - -"The Jerusalem Chamber!" I exclaimed. - -"Where I keep my Israelites," said he; "but, by Gad's life! I think they -are one and all descended from Job, and not father Abraham at all. He -must have thought me cursed ascetic, eh, Fitz? Did you find the benches -hard? I had 'em made hard as the devil. But if they were of stone, I -vow the flock could find their own straw to sit on." - -"Curse it, Charles," cut in Mr. Fitzpatrick, in some temper, "can't you be -serious for once! He would behave this way, Mr. Carvel, if he were being -shriven by the Newgate ordinary before a last carting to Tyburn. -Charles, Charles, it was Aaron again, and the dog is like to snap at -last. He is talking of bailiffs. Take my advice and settle with him. -Hold Cavendish off another fortnight and settle with him." - -Mr. Fox's reply was partly a laugh, and the rest of it is not to be -printed. He did not seem in the least to mind this wholesale disclosure -of his somewhat awkward affairs. And he continued to dress, or to be -dressed, alternately swearing at his valet and talking to Fitzpatrick and -to me. - -"You are both of a name," said he. "Let a man but be called Richard, and -I seem to take to him. I' faith, I like the hunchback king, and believe -our friend Horry Walpole is right in defending him, despite Davie Hume. -I vow I shall like you, Mr. Carvel." - -I replied that I certainly hoped so. - -"Egad, you come well enough recommended," he said, pulling on his -breeches. "No, Eiffel, cursed if I go en petit maitre to-day. How does -that strike you for a demi saison, Mr. Buckskin? I wore three of 'em -through the customs last year, and March's worked olive nightgown tucked -under my greatcoat, and near a dozen pairs of shirts and stockings. And -each of my servants had on near as much. O Lud, we were amazing-like -beef-eaters or blower pigeons. Sorry you won't meet my brother,--he that -will have the title. He's out of town." - -Going on in this discursory haphazard way while he dressed, he made me -feel much at home. For the young dictator--so Mr. Fitzpatrick informed -me afterward--either took to you or else he did not, and stood upon no -ceremony. After he had chosen a coat with a small pattern and his feet -had been thrust into the little red shoes with the high heels, imported -by him from France, he sent for a hackney-chaise. And the three of us -drove together to Pall Mall. Mr. Brooks was at the door, and bowed from -his hips as we entered. - -"A dozen vin de Graves, Brooks!" cries Mr. Fox, and ushers me into a -dining room, with high curtained windows and painted ceiling, and -chandeliers throwing a glitter of light. There, at a long table, -surrounded by powdered lackeys, sat a bevy of wits, mostly in blue and -silver, with point ruffles, to match Mr. Fox's costume. They greeted my -companions uproariously. It was "Here's Charles at last!" "Howdy, -Charles!" "Hello, Richard!" and "What have you there? a new Caribbee?" -They made way for Mr. Fox at the head of the table, and he took the seat -as though it were his right. - -"This is Mr. Richard Carvel, gentlemen, of Carvel Hall, in Maryland." - -They stirred with interest when my name was called, and most of them -turned in their chairs to look at me. I knew well the reason, and felt -my face grow hot. Although you may read much of the courtesy of that -age, there was a deal of brutal frankness among young men of fashion. - -"Egad, Charles, is this he the Beauty rescued Srom Castle Yard?" - -A familiar voice relieved my embarrassment. - -"Give the devil his due, Bully. You forget that I had a hand in that." - -"Faith, Jack Comyn," retorted the gentleman addressed, "you're already -famous for clinging to her skirt." - -"But cling to mine, Bully, and we'll all enter the temple together. But -I bid you welcome, Richard," said his Lordship; "you come with two of the -most delightful vagabonds in the world." - -Mr. Fox introduced me in succession to Colonel St. John, known in St. -James's Street as the Baptist; to my Lord Bolingbroke, Colonel St. John's -brother, who was more familiarly called Bully; to Mr. Fitzpatrick's -brother, the Earl of Upper Ossory, who had come up to London, so he said, -to see a little Italian dance at the Garden; to Gilly Williams; to Sir -Charles Bunbury, who had married Lady Sarah Lennox, Fox's cousin, the -beauty who had come so near to being queen of all England; to Mr. Storer, -who was at once a Caribbee and a Crichton; to Mr. Uvedale Price. These I -remember, but there are more that escape me. Most good-naturedly they -drank my health in Charles's vin de grave, at four shillings the bottle; -and soon I was astonished to find myself launched upon the story of my -adventures, which they had besought me to tell them. When I had done, -they pledged me again, and, beginning to feel at home, I pledged them -handsomely in return. Then the conversation began. The like of it I -have never heard anywhere else in the world. There was a deal that might -not be written here, and a deal more that might, to make these pages -sparkle. They went through the meetings, of course, and thrashed over -the list of horses entered at Ipswich, and York, and Newmarket, and how -many were thought to be pulled. Then followed the recent gains and -losses of each and every individual of the company. After that there was -a roar of merriment over Mr. Storer cracking mottoes with a certain Lady -Jane; and how young Lord Stavordale, on a wager, tilted the candles and -set fire to the drawing-room at Lady Julia's drum, the day before. Mr. -Price told of the rage Topham Beauclerk had got Dr. Johnson into, by -setting down a mark for each oyster the sage had eaten, and showing him -the count. But Mr. Fox, who was the soul of the club, had the best array -of any. He related how he had gone post from Paris to Lyons, to order, -among other things, an embroidered canary waistcoat for George Selwyn -from Jabot. "' Et quel dessin, monsieur?' 'Beetles and frogs, in -green.' 'Escargots! grenouilles!' he cries, with a shriek; 'Et pour -Monsieur Selwyn! Monsieur Fox badine!' It came yesterday, by Crawford, -and I sent it to Chesterfield Street in time for George to wear to the -Duchess's. He has been twice to Piccadilly after me, and twice here, and -swears he will have my heart. And I believe he is now gone to Matson in -a funk." - -After that they fell upon politics. I knew that Mr. Fox was already near -the head of the King's party, and that he had just received a substantial -reward at his Majesty's hands; and I went not far to guess that every one -of these easy-going, devil-may-care macaronies was a follower or -sympathizer with Lord North's policy. But what I heard was a revelation -indeed. I have dignified it by calling it politics. All was frankness -here amongst friends. There was no attempt made to gloss over ugly -transactions with a veneer of morality. For this much I honoured them. -But irresistibly there came into my mind the grand and simple characters -of our own public men in America, and it made me shudder to think that, -while they strove honestly for our rights, this was the type which -opposed them. Motives of personal spite and of personal gain were laid -bare, and even the barter and sale of offices of trust took place before -my very eyes. I was silent, though my tongue burned me, until one of the -gentlemen, thinking me neglected, said: - -"What a-deuce is to be done with those unruly countrymen of yours, Mr. -Carvel? Are they likely to be pacified now that we have taken off all -except the tea? You who are of our party must lead a sorry life among -them. Tell me, do they really mean to go as far as rebellion?" - -The blood rushed to my face. - -"It is not a question of tea, sir," I answered hotly; "nor yet of -tuppence. It is a question of principle, which means more to Englishmen -than life itself. And we are Englishmen." - -I believe I spoke louder than I intended, for a silence followed my -words. Fox glanced at Comyn, who of all of them at the table was not -smiling, and said: - -"I thought you came of a loyalist family, Mr. Carvel." - -"King George has no more loyal servants than the Americans, Mr. Fox, be -they Tory or Whig. And he has but to read our petitions to discover it," -I said. - -I spoke calmly, but my heart was thumping with excitement and resentment. -The apprehension of the untried is apt to be sharp at such moments, -and I looked for them to turn their backs upon me for an impertinent -provincial. Indeed, I think they would have, all save Comyn, had it not -been for Fox himself. He lighted a pipe, smiled, and began easily, quite -dispassionately, to address me. - -"I wish you would favour us with your point of view, Mr. Carvel," said -he; "for, upon my soul, I know little about the subject." - -"You know little about the subject, and you in Parliament!" - -I cried. - -This started them all to laughing. Why, I did not then understand. But -I was angry enough. - -"Come, let's have it!" said he. - -They drew their chairs closer, some wearing that smile of superiority -which to us is the Englishman's most maddening trait. I did not stop to -think twice, or to remember that I was pitted against the greatest -debater in all England. I was to speak that of which I was full, and the -heart's argument needs no logic to defend it. If it were my last word, -I would pronounce it. - -I began by telling them that the Americans had paid their share of the -French war, in blood and money, twice over. And I had the figures in my -memory. Mr. Fox interrupted. For ten minutes at a space he spoke, and -in all my life I have never talked to a man who had the English of King -James's Bible, of Shakespeare, and Milton so wholly at his command. And -his knowledge of history, his classical citations, confounded me. I -forgot myself in wondering how one who had lived so fast had acquired -such learning. Afterward, when I tried to recall what he said, I laughed -at his surprising ignorance of the question at issue, and wondered where -my wits could have gone that I allowed myself to be dazzled and turned -aside at every corner. As his speech came faster he twisted fact into -fiction and fiction into fact, until I must needs close my mind and bolt -the shutters of it, or he had betrayed me into confessing the right of -Parliament to quarter troops among us. Though my head swam, I clung -doggedly to my text. And that was my salvation. He grew more excited, -and they applauded him. In truth, I myself felt near to clapping. And -then, as I stared him in the eye, marvelling how a man of such vast power -and ability could stand for such rotten practices, the thought came to me -(I know not whence) of Saint Paul the Apostle. - -"Mr. Fox," I said, when he had paused, "before God, do you believe what -you are saying?" - -I saw them smiling at my earnestness and simplicity. Fox seemed -surprised, and laughed evasively,--not heartily as was his wont. - -"My dear Mr. Carvel," he said, glancing around the circle, political -principles are not to be swallowed like religion, but taken rather like -medicine, experimentally. If they agree with you, very good. If not, -drop them and try others. We are always ready to listen to remedies, -here." - -"Ay, if they agree with you !" I exclaimed. "But food for one is poison -for another. Do you know what you are doing? You are pushing home -injustice and tyranny to the millions, for the benefit of the thousands. -For is it not true, gentlemen, that the great masses of England are -against the measures you impose upon us? Their fight is our fight. They -are no longer represented in Parliament; we have never been. Taxation -without representation is true of your rotten boroughs as well as of your -vast colonies. You are helping the King to crush freedom abroad in order -that he may the more easily break it at home. You are committing a -crime. - -"I tell you we would give up all we own were the glory or honour of -England at stake. And yet you call us rebels, and accuse us of meanness -and of parsimony. If you wish money, leave the matter to our colonial -assemblies, and see how readily you will get it. But if you wish war, -persist in trying to grind the spirit from a people who have in them the -pride of your own ancestors. Yes, you are estranging the colonies, -gentlemen. A greater man than I has warned you" - -And with that I rose, believing that I had given them all mortal offence. -To my astonishment several got to their feet in front of me, huzzaing, -and Comyn and Lord Ossory grasped my hands. And Charles Fox reached out -over the corner of the table and pulled me back into my chair. - -"Bravo, Richard Carvel!" he cried. "Cursed if I don't love a man who -will put up a fight against odds. Who will stand bluff to what he -believes, and won't be talked out of his boots. We won't quarrel with -any such here, my buckskin, I can tell you." - -And that is the simple story, my dears, of the beginning of my friendship -with one who may rightly be called the Saint Paul of English politics. -He had yet some distance to go, alas, ere he was to begin that sturdy -battle for the right for which his countrymen and ours will always bless -him. I gave him my hand with a better will than I had ever done -anything, and we pressed our fingers numb. And his was not the only hand -I clasped. And honest Jack Comyn ordered more wine, that they might -drink to a speedy reconciliation with America. - -"A pint bumper to Richard Carvel!" said Mr. Fitzpatrick. - -I pledged Brooks's Club in another pint. Upon which they swore that I -was a good fellow, and that if all American Whigs were like me, all cause -of quarrel was at an end. Of this I was not so sure, nor could I see -that the question had been settled one way or another. And that night I -had reason to thank the Reverend Mr. Allen, for the first and last time -in my life, that I could stand a deal of liquor, and yet not roll bottom -upward. - -The dinner was settled on the Baptist, who paid for it without a murmur. -And then we adjourned to the business of the evening. The great drawing- -room, lighted by an hundred candles, was filled with gayly dressed -macaronies, and the sound of their laughter and voices in contention -mingled with the pounding of the packs on the mahogany and the rattle of -the dice and the ring of the gold pieces. The sight was dazzling, and -the noise distracting. Fox had me under his especial care, and I was -presented to young gentlemen who bore names that had been the boast of -England through the centuries. Lands their forebears had won by lance -and sword, they were squandering away as fast as ever they could. I, -too, was known. All had heard the romance of the Beauty and Castle Yard, -and some had listened to Horry Walpole tell that foolish story of Goble -at Windsor, on which he seemed to set such store. They guessed at my -weight. They betted upon it. And they wished to know if I could spin -Mr. Brooks, who was scraping his way from table to table. They gave me -choice of whist, or picquet, or quinze, or hazard. I was carried away. -Nay, I make no excuse. Tho' the times were drinking and gaming ones, -I had been brought up that a gentleman should do both in moderation. -We mounted, some dozen of us, to the floor above, and passed along to a -room of which Fox had the key; and he swung me in on his arm, the others -pressing after. And the door was scarce closed and locked again, before -they began stripping off their clothes. - -To my astonishment, Fox handed me a great frieze coat, which he bade me -don, as the others were doing. Some were turning their coats inside out; -for luck, said they; and putting on footman's leather guards to save -their ruffles. And they gave me a hat with a high crown, and a broad -brim to save my eyes from the candle glare. We were as grotesque a set -as ever I laid my eyes upon. But I hasten over the scene; which has long -become distasteful to me. I mention it only to show to what heights of -folly the young men had gone. I recall a gasp when they told me they -played for rouleaux of ten pounds each, but I took out my pocket-book as -boldly as tho' I had never played for less, and laid my stake upon the -board. Fox lost, again and again; but he treated his ill-luck with such -a raillery of contemptuous wit, that we must needs laugh with him. -Comyn, too, lost, and at supper excused himself, saying that he had -promised his mother, the dowager countess, not to lose more than a -quarter's income at a sitting. But I won and won, until the fever of -it got into my blood, and as the first faint light of that morning crept -into the empty streets, we were still at it, Fox vowing that he never -waked up until daylight. That the best things he said in the House came -to him at dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -LADY TANKERVILLE'S DRUM-MAJOR - -The rising sun, as he came through the little panes of the windows, -etched a picture of that room into my brain. I can see the twisted -candles with their wax smearing the sticks, the chairs awry, the tables -littered with blackened pipes, and bottles, and spilled wine and tobacco -among the dice; and the few that were left of my companions, some with -dark lines under their eyes, all pale, but all gay, unconcerned, witty, -and cynical; smoothing their ruffles, and brushing the ashes and snuff -from the pattern of their waistcoats. As we went downstairs, singing a -song Mr. Foote had put upon the stage that week, they were good enough to -declare that I should never be permitted to go back to Maryland. That my -grandfather should buy me a certain borough, which might be had for six -thousand pounds. - -The drawing-room made a dismal scene, too, after the riot and disorder of -the night. Sleepy servants were cleaning up, but Fox vowed that they -should bring us yet another bottle before going home. So down we sat -about the famous old round table, Fox fingering the dents the gold had -made in the board, and philosophizing; and reciting Orlando Furioso in -the Italian, and Herodotus in the original Greek. Suddenly casting his -eyes about, they fell upon an ungainly form stretched on a lounge, that -made us all start. - -"Bully!" he cried; "I'll lay you fifty guineas that Mr. Carvel gets the -Beauty, against Chartersea." - -This roused me. - -"Nay, Mr. Fox, I beg of you," I protested, with all the vehemence I could -muster. "Miss Manners must not be writ down in such a way." - -For answer he snapped his fingers at the drowsy Brooks, who brought the -betting book. - -"There!" says he; "and there, and there," turning over the pages; "her -name adorns a dozen leaves, my fine buckskin. And it will be well to -have some truth about her. Enter the wager, Brooks." - -"Hold!" shouts Bolingbroke; "I haven't accepted." - -You may be sure I was in an agony over this desecration, which I was so -powerless to prevent. But as I was thanking my stars that the matter had -blown over with Bolingbroke's rejection, there occurred a most singular -thing. - -The figure on the lounge, with vast difficulty, sat up. To our amazement -we beheld the bloated face of the Duke of Chartersea staring stupidly. - -"Damme, Bully, you refushe bet like tha'!" he said. "I'll take doshen of -'em-doshen, egad. Gimme the book, Brooksh. Cursh Fox--lay thousand d--d -provinshial never getsh 'er--I know--" - -I sat very still, seized with a loathing beyond my power to describe to -thick that this was the man Mr. Manners was forcing her to marry. Fox -laughed. - -"Help his Grace to his coach," he said to two of the footmen. - -"Kill fellow firsht!" cried his Grace, with his hand on his sword, and -instantly fell over, and went sound asleep. - -"His Grace has sent his coach home, your honour," said one of the men, -respectfully. "The duke is very quarrelsome, sir." - -"Put him in a chair, then," said Charles. - -So they fearfully lifted his Grace, who was too far gone to resist, and -carried him to a chair. And Mr. Fox bribed the chairmen with two guineas -apiece, which he borrowed from me, to set his Grace down amongst the -marketwomen at Covent Garden. - -The next morning Banks found in my pockets something over seven hundred -pounds more than I had had the day before. - -I rose late, my head swimming with mains and nicks, and combinations of -all the numbers under the dozen; debated whether or no I would go to -Arlington Street, and decided that I had not the courage. Comyn settled -it by coming in his cabriolet, proposed that we should get the air in the -park, dine at the Cocoa Tree, and go afterwards to Lady Tankerville's -drum-major, where Dolly would undoubtedly be. - -"Now you are here, Richard," said his Lordship, with his accustomed -bluntness, "and your sea-captain has relieved your Quixotic conscience, -what the deuce do you intend to do? - -"Win a thousand pounds every night at Brooks's, or improve your time and -do your duty, and get Miss Manners out of his Grace's clutches? I'll -warrant something will come of that matter this morning." - -"I hope so," I said shortly. - -Comyn looked at me sharply. - -"Would you fight him?" he asked. - -"If he gave me the chance." - -His Lordship whistled. "Egad, then," said he, "I shall want to be there -to see. In spite of his pudding-bag shape he handles the sword as well -as any man in England. I have crossed with him at Angelo's. And he has -a devilish tricky record, Richard." - -I said nothing to that. - -"Hope you do--kill him," Comyn continued. "He deserves it richly. But -that will be a cursed unpleasant way of settling the business,-- -unpleasant for you, unpleasant for her, and cursed unpleasant for him, -too, I suppose. Can't you think of any other way of getting her? Ask -Charles to give you a plan of campaign. You haven't any sense, and -neither have I." - -"Hang you, Jack, I have no hopes of getting her," I replied, for I was -out of humour with myself that day. "In spite of what you say, I know -she doesn't care a brass farthing to marry me. So let's drop that." - -Comyn made a comic gesture of deprecation. I went on: "But I am going to -stay here and find out the truth, though it may be a foolish undertaking. -And if he is intimidating Mr. Manners--" - -"You may count on me, and on Charles," said my Lord, generously; "and -there are some others I know of. Gad! You made a dozen of friends and -admirers by what you said last night, Richard. And his Grace has a few -enemies. You will not lack support." - -We dined very comfortably at the Cocoa Tree, where Comyn had made an -appointment for me with two as diverting gentlemen as had ever been my -lot to meet. My Lord Carlisle was the poet and scholar of the little -clique which had been to Eton with Charles Fox, any member of which (so -'twas said) would have died for him. His Lordship, be it remarked in -passing, was as lively a poet and scholar as can well be imagined. He -had been recently sobered, so Comyn confided; which I afterwards -discovered meant married. Charles Fox's word for the same was fallen. -And I remembered that Jack had told me it was to visit Lady Carlisle at -Castle Howard that Dorothy was going when she heard of my disappearance. -Comyn's other guest was Mr. Topham Beauclerk, the macaroni friend of -Dr. Johnson. He, too, had been recently married, but appeared no more -sobered than his Lordship. Mr. Beauclerk's wife, by the way, was the -beautiful Lady Diana Spencer, who had been divorced from Lord -Bolingbroke, the Bully I had met the night before. These gentlemen -seemed both well acquainted with Miss Manners, and vowed that none but -American beauties would ever be the fashion in London more. Then we all -drove to Lady Tankerville's drum-major near Chesterfield House. - -"You will be wanting a word with her when she comes in," said Comyn, -slyly divining. Poor fellow! I fear that I scarcely appreciated his -feelings as to Dorothy, or the noble unselfishness of his friendship for -me. - -We sat aside in a recess of the lower hall, watching the throng as they -passed: haughty dowagers, distorted in lead and disfigured in silk and -feathers nodding at the ceiling; accomplished beaus of threescore or -more, carefully mended for the night by their Frenchmen at home; young -ladies in gay brocades with round skirts and stiff, pear-shaped bodices; -and youngsters just learning to ogle and to handle their snuff-boxes. -One by one their names were sent up and solemnly mouthed by the footman -on the landing. At length, when we had all but given her up, Dorothy -arrived. A hood of lavender silk heightened the oval of her face, and -out from under it crept rebellious wisps of her dark hair. But she was -very pale, and I noticed for the first time a worn expression that gave -me a twinge of uneasiness. 'Twas then I caught sight of the duke, a -surly stamp on his leaden features. And after him danced Mr. Manners. -Dolly gave a little cry when she saw me. - -"Oh! Richard, I am so glad you are here. I was wondering what had -become of you. And Comyn, too." Whispering to me, "Mamma has had a -letter from Mrs. Brice; your grandfather has been to walk in the garden." - -"And Grafton?" - -"She said nothing of your uncle," she replied, with a little shudder at -the name; "but wrote that Mr. Carvel was said to be better. So there! -your conscience need not trouble you for remaining. I am sure he would -wish you to pay a visit home. - -"And I have to scold you, sir. You have not been to Arlington Street for -three whole days." - -It struck me suddenly that her gayety was the same as that she had worn -to my birthday party, scarce a year agone. - -"Dolly, you are not well!" I said anxiously. - -She flung her head saucily for answer. In the meantime his Grace, -talking coldly to Comyn, had been looking unutterable thunders at me. -I thought of him awaking in the dew at Covent Garden, and could scarce -keep from laughing in his face. Mr. Marmaduke squirmed to the front. - -"Morning, Richard," he said, with a marked cordiality. "Have you met the -Duke of Chartersea? No! Your Grace, this is Mr. Richard Carvel. His -family are dear friends of ours in the colonies." - -To my great surprise, the duke saluted me quite civilly. But I had the -feeling of facing a treacherous bull which would gore me as soon as ever -my back was turned. He was always putting me in mind of a bull, with his -short neck and heavy, hunched shoulders,--and with the ugly tinge of red -in the whites of his eyes. - -"Mr. Manners tells me you are to remain awhile in London, Mr. Carvel," he -said, in his thick voice. - -I took his meaning instantly, and replied in kind. - -"Yes, your Grace, I have some business to attend to here." - -"Ah," he answered; "then I shall see you again." - -"Probably, sir," said I. - -His Lordship watched this thrust and parry with an ill-concealed delight. -Dorothy's face was impassive, expressionless. As the duke turned to -mount the stairs, he stumbled clumsily across a young man coming to pay -his respects to Miss Manners, and his Grace went sprawling against the -wall. - -"Confound you, sir!" he cried. - -For the ducal temper was no respecter of presences. Then a title was a -title to those born lower, and the young man plainly had a vast honour -for a coronet. - -"I beg your Grace's pardon," said he. - -"Who the deuce is he?" demanded the duke petulantly of Mr. Manners, -thereby setting the poor little man all a-tremble. - -"Why, why,--" he replied, searching for his spyglass. - -For an instant Dolly's eyes shot scorn. Chartersea had clearly seen and -heeded that signal before. - -"The gentleman is a friend of mine," she said. - -Tho' I were put out of the Garden of Eden as a consequence, I itched to -have it out with his Grace then and there. I knew that I was bound to -come into collision with him sooner or later. Such, indeed, was my -mission in London. But Dorothy led the way upstairs, a spot of colour -burning each of her cheeks. The stream of guests had been arrested until -the hall was packed, and the curious were peering over the rail above. - -"Lord, wasn't she superb!" exclaimed Comyn, exultingly, as we followed. -In the drawing-room the buzzing about the card tables was hushed a moment -as she went in. But I soon lost sight of her, thanks to Comyn. He drew -me on from group to group, and I was duly presented to a score of Lady -So-and-sos and honourable misses, most of whom had titles, but little -else. Mammas searched their memories, and suddenly discovered that they -had heard their parents speak of my grandfather. But, as it was a fair -presumption that most colonial gentlemen made a visit home at least once -in their lives, I did not allow the dust to get into my eyes. I was -invited to dinners, and fairly showered with invitations to balls and -drums and garden parties. I was twitted about the Beauty, most often -with only a thin coating of amiability covering the spite of the remark. -In short, if my head had not been so heavily laden with other matters, it -might well have become light under the strain. Had I been ambitious to -enter the arena I should have had but little trouble, since eligibility -then might be reduced to guineas and another element not moral. I was -the only heir of one of the richest men in the colony, vouched for by the -Manners and taken up by Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn. Inquiries are not -pushed farther. I could not help seeing the hardness of it all, or -refrain from contrasting my situation with that of the penniless outcast -I had been but a little time before. The gilded rooms, the hundred -yellow candles multiplied by the mirrors, the powder, the perfume, -the jewels,--all put me in mind of the poor devils I had left wasting -away their lives in Castle Yard. They, too, had had their times of -prosperity, their friends who had faded with the first waning of fortune. -Some of them had known what it was to be fawned over. And how many of -these careless, flitting men of fashion I looked upon could feel the -ground firm beneath their feet; or could say with certainty what a change -of ministers, or one wild night at White's or Almack's, would bring -forth? Verily, one must have seen the under side of life to know the -upper! - -Presently I was sought out by Mr. Topham Beauclerk, who had heard of the -episode below and wished to hear more. He swore at the duke. - -"He will be run through some day, and serve him jolly right," said he. -"Bet you twenty pounds Charles Fox does it! His Grace knows he has the -courage to fight him." The courage!" I repeated. - -"Yes. Angelo says the duke has diabolical skill. And then he won't -fight fair. He killed young Atwater on a foul, you know. Slipped on -the wet grass, and Chartersea had him pinned before he caught his guard. -But there is Lady Di a-calling, a-calling." - -"Do all the women cheat in America too?" asked Topham, as we approached. - -I thought of my Aunt Caroline, and laughed. - -"Some," I answered. - -"They will game, d--n 'em," said Topham, as tho' he had never gamed in -his life. "And they will cheat, till a man has to close his eyes to -keep from seeing their pretty hands. And they will cry, egad, oh so -touchingly, if the luck goes against them in spite of it all. Only last -week I had to forgive Mrs Farnham an hundred guineas. She said she'd -lost her pin-money twice over, and was like to have wept her eyes out." - -Thus primed in Topham's frank terms, I knew what to expect. And I found -to my amusement he had not overrun the truth. I lost like a stoic, saw -nothing, and discovered the straight road to popularity. - -"The dear things expect us to make it up at the clubs," whispered he. - -I discovered how he had fallen in love with his wife, Lady Diana, and -pitied poor Bolingbroke heartily for having lost her. She was then in -her prime,--a beauty, a wit, and a great lady, with a dash of the -humanities about her that brought both men and women to her feet. - -"You must come to see me, Mr. Carvel," said she. "I wish to talk to you -of Dorothy." - -"Your Ladyship believes me versed in no other subject?" I asked. - -"None other worth the mention," she replied instantly; "Topham tells me -you can talk horses, and that mystery of mysteries, American politics. -But look at Miss Manners Dow. I'll warrant she is making Sir Charles see -to his laurels, and young Stavordale is struck dumb." - -I looked up quickly and beheld Dolly surrounded by a circle of admirers. - -"Mark the shot strike!" Lady Di continued, between the deals; "that time -Chartersea went down. I fancy he is bowled over rather often," she said -slyly. "What a brute it is. And they say that that little woman she has -for a father imagines a union with the duke will redound to his glory." - -"They say," remarked Mrs. Meynel, sitting next me, "that the duke has -thumbscrews of some kind on Mr. Manners." - -"Miss Manners is able to take care of herself," said Topham. - -"'On dit', that she has already refused as many dukes as did her Grace of -Argyle," said Mrs. Meynel. - -I had lost track of the cards, and knew I was losing prodigiously. But -my eyes went back again and again to the group by the doorway, where -Dolly was holding court and dispensing justice, and perchance injustice. -The circle increased. Ribands, generals whose chests were covered with -medals of valour, French noblemen, and foreign ambassadors stopped for a -word with the Beauty and passed on their way, some smiling, some -reflecting, to make room for others. I overheard from the neighbouring -tables a spiteful protest that a young upstart from the colonies should -turn Lady Tankerville's drum into a levee. My ears tingled as I -listened. But not a feathered parrot in the carping lot of them could -deny that Miss Manners had beauty and wit enough to keep them all at bay. -Hers was not an English beauty: every line of her face and pose of her -body proclaimed her of that noble type of Maryland women, distinctly -American, over which many Englishmen before and since have lost their -heads and hearts. - -"Egad!" exclaimed Mr. Storer, who was looking on; "she's already -defeated some of the Treasury Bench, and bless me if she isn't rating -North himself." - -Half the heads in the room were turned toward Miss Manners, who was -exchanging jokes with the Prime Minister of Great Britain. I saw a -corpulent man, ludicrously like the King's pictures, with bulging gray -eyes that seemed to take in nothing. And this was North, upon whose -conduct with the King depended the fate of our America. Good-natured -he was, and his laziness was painfully apparent. He had the reputation -of going to sleep standing, like a horse. - -"But the Beauty contrives to keep him awake," said Storer. - -"If you stay among us, Mr. Carvel," said Topham, "she will get you a -commissionership for the asking." - -"Look," cried Lady Di, "there comes Mr. Fox, the precocious, the -irresistible. Were he in the Bible, we should read of him passing the -time of day with King Solomon." - -"Or instructing Daniel in the art of lion-taming," put in Mrs. Meynel. - -There was Mr. Fox in truth, and the Beauty's face lighted up at sight of -him. And presently, when Lord North had made his bow and passed on, he -was seen to lead her out of the room, leaving her circle to go to pieces, -like an empire without a head. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -DRURY LANE - -After a night spent in making resolutions, I set out for Arlington -Street, my heart beating a march, as it had when I went thither on my -arrival in London. Such was my excitement that I was near to being run -over in Piccadilly like many another country gentleman, and roundly -cursed by a wagoner for my stupidity. I had a hollow bigness within me, -half of joy, half of pain, that sent me onward with ever increasing steps -and a whirling storm of contradictions in my head. Now it was: Dolly -loved me in spite of all the great men in England. Why, otherwise, had -she come to the sponging-house? Berating myself: had her affection been -other than that of a life-long friendship she would not have come an -inch. But why had she made me stay in London? Why had she spoken so to -Comyn? What interpretation might be put upon a score of little acts of -hers that came a-flooding to mind, each a sacred treasure of memory? A -lover's interpretation, forsooth. Fie, Richard! what presumption to -think that you, a raw lad, should have a chance in such a field! You -have yet, by dint of hard knocks and buffets, to learn the world. - -By this I had come in sight of her house, and suddenly I trembled like a -green horse before a cannon. My courage ran out so fast that I was soon -left without any, and my legs had carried me as far as St. James's Church -before I could bring them up. Then I was sure, for the first time, that -she did not love me. In front of the church I halted, reflecting that I -had not remained in England with any hope of it, but rather to discover -the truth about Chartersea's actions, and to save her, if it were -possible. I turned back once more, and now got as far as the knocker, -and lifted it as a belfry was striking the hour of noon. I think I would -have fled again had not the door been immediately opened. - -Once more I found myself in the room looking out over the Park, the -French windows open to the balcony, the sunlight flowing in with the -spring-scented air. On the table was lying a little leather book, -stamped with gold,--her prayerbook. Well I remembered it! I opened it, -to read: "Dorothy, from her Mother. Annapolis, Christmas, 1768." The -sweet vista of the past stretched before my eyes. I saw her, on such a, -Mayday as this, walking to St. Anne's under the grand old trees, their -budding leaves casting a delicate tracery at her feet. I followed her up -the aisle until she disappeared in the high pew, and then I sat beside my -grandfather and thought of her, nor listened to a word of Mr. Allen's -sermon. Why had they ever taken her to London? - -When she came in I sought her face anxiously. She was still pale; and I -thought, despite her smile, that a trace of sadness lingered in her eyes. - -"At last, sir, you have come," she said severely. "Sit down and give an -account of yourself at once. You have been behaving very badly." - -"Dorothy--" - -"Pray don't 'Dorothy' me, sir. But explain where you have been for this -week past." - -"But, Dolly--" - -"You pretend to have some affection for your old playmate, but you do not -trouble yourself to come to see her." - -"Indeed, you do me wrong." - -"Do you wrong! You prefer to gallivant about town with Comyn and Charles -Fox, and with all those wild gentlemen who go to Brooks's. Nay, I have -heard of your goings-on. I shall write to Mr. Carvel to-day, and advise -him to send for you. And tell him that you won a thousand pounds in one -night--" - -"It was only seven hundred," I interrupted sheepishly. I thought she -smiled faintly. - -And will probably lose twenty thousand before you have done. And I shall -say to him that you have dared to make bold rebel speeches to a Lord of -the Admiralty and to some of the King's supporters. I shall tell your -grandfather you are disgracing him." - -"Rebel speeches!" I cried. - -"Yes, rebel speeches at Almack's. Who ever heard of such a thing! No -doubt I shall hear next of your going to a drawing-room and instructing -his Majesty how to subdue the colonies. And then, sir, you will be sent -to the Tower, and I shan't move a finger to get you out." - -"Who told you of this, Dolly?" I demanded. - -"Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,--or so bad,--that he -took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let -you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue. -I replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr. -Franklin." - -I laughed. - -"I saw Fox lead you off," I said. - -"Oh, you did, did you!" she retorted. "But you never once came near me -yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there a -full three hours." - -"How could I!" I exclaimed. "You were surrounded by prime ministers and -ambassadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people." - -"When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way." - -"Nay," I answered, despairing, "I can never explain anything to you, -Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine." - -"Why didn't you go home with your captain?" she asked mockingly. - -"Do you know why I stayed?" - -"I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures -of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can -think of no other season." - -"There is another," I said desperately. - -"Ah," said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in -the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my -very temples throbbing. - -"We have no such springs at home," she said. "But oh, I wish I were at -Wilmot House to-day!" - -"There is another reason," I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like -that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly. -The southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the -curtains at our backs. - -"You have a conscience, Richard," she said gently, without turning. "So -few of us have." - -I was surprised. Nor did I know what to make of that there were so many -meanings. - -"You are wild," she continued, "and impulsive, as they say your father -was. But he was a man I should have honoured. He stood firm beside his -friends. He made his enemies fear him. All strong men must have -enemies, I suppose. They must make them." - -I looked at her, troubled, puzzled, but burning at her praise of Captain -Jack. - -"Dolly," I cried, "you are not well. Why won't you come back to -Maryland?" - -She did not reply to that. Then she faced me suddenly. - -"Richard, I know now why you insisted upon going back. It was because -you would not desert your sea-captain. Comyn and Mr. Fox have told me, -and they admire you for it as much as I." - -What language is worthy to describe her as she was then in that pose, -with her head high, as she was wont to ride over the field after the -hounds. Hers was in truth no beauty of stone, but the beauty of force, ---of life itself. - -"Dorothy," I cried; "Dorothy, I stayed because I love you. There, I have -said it again, what has not passed my lips since we were children. What -has been in my heart ever since." - -I stopped, awed. For she had stepped back, out on the balcony. She hid -her head in her hands, and I saw her breast shaken as with sobs. I -waited what seemed a day,--a year. Then she raised her face and looked -at me through the tears shining in her eyes. - -"Richard," she said sadly, "why, why did you ever tell me? Why can we -not always be playmates?" - -The words I tried to say choked me. I could not speak for sorrow, for -very bitterness. And yet I might have known! I dared not look at her -again. - -"Dear Richard," I heard her say, "God alone understands how it hurts me -to give you pain. Had I only foreseen--" - -"Had you only foreseen," I said quickly. - -"I should never have let you speak." - -Her words came steadily, but painfully. And when I raised my eyes she -met them bravely. - -"You must have seen," I cried. "These years I have loved you, nor could -I have hidden it if I had wished. But I have little--to offer you," I -went on cruelly, for I knew not what I said; "you who may have English -lands and titles for the consenting. I was a fool." - -Her tears started again. And at sight of them I was seized with such -remorse that I could have bitten my tongue in two. - -"Forgive me, Dorothy, if you can," I implored. "I did not mean it. Nor -did I presume to think you loved me. I have adored,--I shall be content -to adore from far below. And I stayed,--I stayed that I might save you -if a danger threatened." - -"Danger!" she exclaimed, catching her breath. - -"I will come to the point," I said. "I stayed to save you from the Duke -of Chartersea." - -She grasped the balcony rail, and I think would have fallen but for my -arm. Then she straightened, and only the quiver of her lip marked the -effort. - -"To save me from the Duke of Chartersea? "she said, so coldly that my -conviction was shaken. "Explain yourself, sir." - -"You cannot love him!" I cried, amazed. - -She flashed upon me a glance I shall never forget. - -"Richard Carvel," she said, "you have gone too far. Though you have been -my friend all my life, there are some things which even you cannot say to -me." - -And she left me abruptly and went into the house, her head flung back. -And I followed in a tumult of mortification and wounded pride, in such a -state of dejection that I wished I had never been born. But hers was a -nature of surprises, and impulsive, like my own. Beside the cabinet she -turned, calm again, all trace of anger vanished from her face. Drawing a -hawthorn sprig from a porcelain vase I had given her, she put it in my -hand. - -"Let us forget this, Richard," said she; "we have both been very -foolish." - -Forget, indeed! Unless Heaven had robbed me of reason, had torn the past -from me at a single stroke. I could not have forgotten. When I reached -my lodgings I sent the anxious Banks about his business and threw myself -in a great chair before the window, the chair she had chosen. Strange to -say, I had no sensation save numbness. The time must have been about two -of the clock: I took no account of it. I recall Banks coming timidly -back with the news that two gentlemen had called. I bade him send them -away. Would my honour not have Mrs. Marble cook my dinner, and be -dressed for Lady Pembroke's ball? I sent him off again, harshly. - -After a long while the slamming of a coach door roused me, and I was -straightway seized with such an agony of mind that I could have cried -aloud. 'Twas like the pain of blood flowing back into a frozen limb. -Darkness was fast gathering as I reached the street and began to walk -madly. Word by word I rehearsed the scene in the drawing-room over the -Park, but I could not think calmly, for the pain of it. Little by little -I probed, writhing, until far back in my boyhood I was tearing at the -dead roots of that cherished plant, which was the Hope of Her Love. It -had grown with my own life, and now with its death to-day I felt that I -had lost all that was dear to me. Then, in the midst of this abject -self-pity, I was stricken with shame. I thought of Comyn, who had borne -the same misfortune as a man should. Had his pain been the less because -he had not loved her from childhood? Like Comyn, I resolved to labour -for her happiness. - -What hour of the night it was I know not when a man touched me on the -shoulder, and I came to myself with a start. I was in a narrow street -lined by hideous houses, their windows glaring with light. Each seemed a -skull, with rays darting from its grinning eye-holes. Within I caught -glimpses of debauchery that turned me sick. Ten paces away three women -and a man were brawling, the low angry tones of his voice mingling with -the screeches of their Billingsgate. Muffled figures were passing and -repassing unconcernedly, some entering the houses, others coming out, and -a handsome coach, without arms and with a footman in plain livery, -lumbered along and stopped farther on. All this I remarked before I took -notice of him who had intercepted me, and demanded what he wanted. - -"Hey, Bill!" he cried with an oath to a man who stood on the steps -opposite; "'ere's a soft un as has put 'is gill in." - -The man responded, and behind him came two more of the same feather, and -suddenly I found myself surrounded by an ill-smelling crowd of flashy men -and tawdry women. They jostled me, and I reached for my sword, to make -the discovery that I had forgotten it. Regaining my full senses, I -struck the man nearest me a blow that sent him sprawling in the dirt. A -blade gleamed under the sickly light of the fish-oil lamp overhead, but a -man crashed through from behind and caught the ruffian's sword-arm and -flung him back in the kennel. - -"The watch!" he cried, "the watch!" - -They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me -standing alone with him. The affair had come and gone so quickly that I -scarce caught my breath. - -"Pardon, sir," he said, knuckling, "but I followed you." - -It was Banks. For a second time he had given me an affecting example of -his faithfulness. I forgot that he was my servant, and I caught his hand -and pressed it. - -"You have saved my life at the risk of your own," I said; "I shall not -forget it." - -But Banks had been too well trained to lose sight of his position. He -merely tipped his hat again and said imperturbably: - -"Best get out of here, your honour. They'll be coming again directly." - -"Where are we?" I asked. - -"Drury Lane, sir," he replied, giving me just the corner of a glance; -"shall I fetch a coach, sir?" No, I preferred to walk. Before we had -turned into Long Acre I had seen all of this Sodom of London that it -should be given a man to see, if indeed we must behold some of the -bestiality of this world. Here alone, in the great city, high and low -were met equal. Sin levels rank. The devil makes no choice between my -lord and his kitchen wench who has gone astray. Here, in Sodom, painted -vice had lain for an hundred years and bred half the crime of a century. -How many souls had gone hence in that time to meet their Maker! Some -of these brazen creatures who leered at me had known how long ago!-- -a peaceful home and a mother's love; had been lured in their innocence to -this place of horrors, never to leave it until death mercifully overtakes -them. Others, having fallen, had been driven hither by a cruel world -that shelters all save the helpless, that forgives all save the truly -penitent. I shuddered as I thought of Mr. Hogarth's prints, which, in -the library in Marlboro' Street at home, had had so little meaning for -me. Verily he had painted no worse than the reality. As I strode -homeward, my own sorrow subdued by the greater sorrow I had looked upon, -the craving I had had to be alone was gone, and I would have locked arms -with a turnspit. I called to Banks, who was behind at a respectful -distance, and bade him come talk to me. His presence of mind in calling -on the watch had made even a greater impression upon me than his bravery. -I told him that he should have ten pounds, and an increase of wages. And -I asked him where I had gone after leaving Dover Street, and why he had -followed me. He answered this latter question first. He had seen -gentlemen in the same state, or something like it, before: his Lordship, -his late master, after he had fought with Mr. Onslow, of the Guards, and -Sir Edward Minturn, when he had lost an inheritance and a reversion at -Brooks's, and was forced to give over his engagement to marry the -Honourable Miss Swift. "Lord, sir," he said, "but that was a sad case, -as set all London agog. And Sir Edward shot hisself at Portsmouth not a -se'nnight after." - -And he relapsed into silence, no doubt longing to ask the cause of my own -affliction. Presently he surprised me by saying: - -"And I might make so bold, Mr. Carvel, I would like to tell your honour -something." - -I nodded. And he hawed awhile and then burst out: - -"Your honour must know then that I belongs to the footman's club in -Berkeley Square, where I meets all the servants o' quality--" - -"Yes," I said, wondering what footman's tale he had to tell. - -"And Whipple, he's a hintimate o' mine, sir." He stopped again. - -"And who may Whipple be?" - -"With submission, sir. Whipple's his Grace o' Chartersea's man--and, -you'll forgive me, sir--Whipple owns his Grace is prodigious ugly, an' -killed young Mr. Atwater unfair, some think. Whipple says he would give -notice had he not promised the old duke--" - -"Drat Whipple!" I cried. - -"Yes, sir. To be sure, sir. His Grace was in a bloody rage when he -found hisself in a fruit bin at Covent Carding. An' two redbreasts had -carried him to the round house, sir, afore they discovered his title. -An' since his Grace ha' said time an' time afore Whipple, that he'll ha' -Mr. Carvel's heart for that, and has called you most disgustin' bad -names, sir. An' Whipple he says to me: 'Banks, drop your marster a word, -an' you get the chance. His Grace'll speak him fair to's face, but let -him look behind him.'" - -"I thank you again, Banks. I shall bear in mind your devotion," -I replied. "But I had nothing to do with sending the duke to Covent -Garden." - -"Ay, sir, so I tells Whipple." - -"Pray, how did you know?" I demanded curiously. - -"Lord, sir! All the servants at Almack's is friends o' mine," says he. -"But Whipple declares his Grace will be sworn you did it, sir, tho' the -Lord Mayor hisself made deposition 'twas not." - -"Then mark me, Banks, you are not to talk of this." - -"Oh, Lord, no, your honour," he said, as he fell back. But I was not so -sure of his discretion as of his loyalty. - -And so I was led to perceive that I was not to be the only aggressor in -the struggle that was to come. That his Grace did me the honour to look -upon me as an obstacle. And that he intended to seize the first -opportunity to make way with me, by fair means or foul. - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest -Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - -Volume 6. - - -XXXIV. His Grace makes Advances -XXXV. In which my Lord Baltimore appears . -XXXVI. A Glimpse of Mr. Garrick -XXXVII. The Serpentine -XXXVIII. In which I am roundly brought to task -XXXIX. Holland House -XL. Vauxhall - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -HIS GRACE MAKES ADVANCES - -The next morning I began casting about as to what I should do next. -There was no longer any chance of getting at the secret from Dorothy, if -secret there were. Whilst I am ruminating comes a great battling at the -street door, and Jack Comyn blew in like a gust of wind, rating me -soundly for being a lout and a blockhead. - -"Zooks!" he cried, "I danced the soles off my shoes trying to get in here -yesterday, and I hear you were moping all the time, and paid me no more -attention than I had been a dog scratching at the door. What! and have -you fallen out with my lady?" - -I confessed the whole matter to him. He was not to be resisted. He -called to Banks for a cogue of Nantsey, and swore amazingly at what he -was pleased to term the inscrutability of woman, offering up consolation -by the wholesale. The incident, he said, but strengthened his conviction -that Mr. Manners had appealed to Dorothy to save him. "And then," added -his Lordship, facing me with absolute fierceness, "and then, Richard, why -the devil did she weep? There were no tears when I made my avowal. I -tell you, man, that the whole thing points but the one way. She loves -you. I swear it by the rood." - -I could not help laughing, and he stood looking at me with such a -whimsical expression that I rose and flung my arms around him. - -"Jack, Jack!" I cried, "what a fraud you are! Do you remember the -argument you used when you had got me out of the sponging-house? Quoting -you, all I had to do was to put Dorothy to the proof, and she would toss -Mr. Marmaduke and his honour broadcast. Now I have confessed myself, and -what is the result? Nay, your theory is gone up in vapour." - -"Then why," cried his Lordship, hotly, "why before refusing me did she -demand to know whether you had been in love with Patty Swain? 'Sdeath! -you put me in mind of a woman upon stilts--a man has always to be walking -alongside her with encouragement handy. And when a proud creature such -as our young lady breaks down as she hath done, 'tis clear as skylight -there is something wrong. And as for Mr. Manners, Hare overheard a part -of a pow-wow 'twixt him and the duke at the Bedford Arms,--and Chartersea -has all but owned in some of his drunken fits that our little fop is in -his power." - -"Then she is in love with some one else," I said. - -"I tell you she is not," said Comyn, still more emphatically; "and you -can write that down in red in your table book. Gossip has never been -able to connect her name with that of any man save yours, when she went -for you in Castle Yard. And, gemini, gossip is like water, and will get -in if a crack shows. When the Marquis of Wells was going to Arlington -Street once every day, she sent him about his business in a fortnight." - -Despite Comyn's most unselfish optimism, I could see no light. And in -the recklessness that so often besets youngsters of my temper, on like -occasions, I went off to Newmarket next day with Mr. Fox and Lord Ossory, -in his Lordship's travelling-chaise and four. I spent a very gay week -trying to forget Miss Dolly. I was the loser by some three hundred -pounds, in addition to what I expended and loaned to Mr. Fox. This young -gentleman was then beginning to accumulate at Newmarket a most execrable -stud. He lost prodigiously, but seemed in no wise disturbed thereby. -I have never known a man who took his ill-luck with such a stoical -nonchalance. Not so while the heat was on. As I write, a most -ridiculous recollection rises of Charles dragging his Lordship and me -and all who were with him to that part of the course where the race was -highest, where he would act like a madman; blowing and perspiring, and -whipping and swearing all at a time, and rising up and down as if the -horse was throwing him. - -At Newmarket I had the good--or ill-fortune to meet that incorrigible -rake and profligate, my Lord of March and Ruglen. For him the goddess of -Chance had smiled, and he was in the most complaisant humour. I was -presented to his Grace, the Duke of Grafton, whose name I had no reason -to love, and invited to Wakefield Lodge. We went instead, Mr. Fox and I, -to Ampthill, Lord Ossory's seat, with a merry troop. And then we had -more racing; and whist and quinze and pharaoh and hazard, until I was -obliged to write another draft upon Mr. Dix to settle the wails: and -picquet in the travelling-chaise all the way to London. Dining at -Brooks's, we encountered Fitzpatrick and Comyn and my Lord Carlisle. - -"Now how much has Charles borrowed of yon, Mr. Carvel?" demanded -Fitzpatrick, as we took our seats. - -"I'll lay ten guineas that Charles has him mortgaged this day month, -though he owns as much land as William Penn, and is as rich as Fordyce." - -Comyn demanded where the devil I had been, though he knew perfectly. He -was uncommonly silent during dinner, and then asked me if I had heard the -news. I told him I had heard none. He took me by the sleeve, to the -quiet amusement of the company, and led me aside. - -"Curse you, Richard," says be; "you have put me in such a temper that I -vow I'll fling you over. You profess to love her, and yet you go betting -to Newmarket and carousing to Ampthill when she is ill." - -"Ill!" I said, catching my breath. - -"Ay! That hurts, does it? Yes, ill, I say. She was missed at Lady -Pembroke's that Friday you had the scene with her, and at Lady -Ailesbury's on Saturday. On Monday morning, when I come to you for -tidings, you are off watching Charles make an ass of himself at -Newmarket." - -"And how is she now, Comyn?" I asked, catching him by the arm. - -"You may go yourself and see, and be cursed, Richard Carvel. She is in -trouble, and you are pleasure-seeking in the country. Damme! you deserve -richly to lose her." - -Calling for my greatcoat, and paying no heed to the jeers of the company -for leaving before the toasts and the play, I fairly ran to Arlington -Street. I was in a passion of remorse. Comyn had been but just. -Granting, indeed, that she had refused to marry me, was that any reason -why I should desert my life-long friend and playmate? A hundred little -tokens of her affection for me rose to mind, and last of all that rescue -from Castle Yard in the face of all Mayfair. And in that hour of -darkness the conviction that something was wrong came back upon me with -redoubled force. Her lack of colour, her feverish actions, and the -growing slightness of her figure, all gave me a pang, as I connected them -with that scene on the balcony over the Park. - -The house was darkened, and a coach was in front of it. - -"Yessir," said the footman, "Miss Manners has been quite ill. She is now -some better, and Dr. James is with her. Mrs. Manners begs company will -excuse her." - -And Mr. Marmaduke? The man said, with as near a grin as he ever got, -that the marster was gone to Mrs. Cornelys's assembly. As I turned away, -sick at heart, the physician, in his tie-wig and scarlet cloak, came out, -and I stopped him. He was a testy man, and struck the stone an impatient -blow with his staff. - -"'Od's life, sir. I am besieged day and night by you young gentlemen. -I begin to think of sending a daily card to Almack's." - -"Sir, I am an old friend of Miss Manners," I replied, "having grown up -with her in Maryland--" - -"Are you Mr. Carvel?" he demanded abruptly, taking his hat from his arm. - -"Yes," I answered, surprised. In the gleam of the portico lanthorn he -scrutinized me for several seconds. - -"There are some troubles of the mind which are beyond the power of physic -to remedy, Mr. Carvel," said he. "She has mentioned your name, sir, and -you are to judge of my meaning. Your most obedient, sir. Good night, -sir." - -And he got into his coach, leaving me standing where I was, bewildered. - -That same fear of being alone, which has driven many a man to his cups, -sent me back to Brooks's for company. I found Fox and Comyn seated at a -table in the corner of the drawing-room, for once not playing, but -talking earnestly. Their expressions when they saw me betrayed what my -own face must have been. - -"What is it?" cried Comyn, half rising; "is she--is she--" - -"No, she is better," I said. - -He looked relieved. - -"You must have frightened him badly, Jack," said Fox. - -I flung myself into a chair, and Fox proposed whist, something unusual -for him. Comyn called for cards, and was about to go in search of a -fourth, when we all three caught sight of the Duke of Chartersea in the -door, surveying the room with a cold leisure. His eye paused when in -line with us, and we were seized with astonishment to behold him making -in our direction. - -"Squints!" exclaimed Mr. Fox, "now what the devil can the hound want?" - -"To pull your nose for sending him to market," my Lord suggested. - -Fox laughed coolly. - -"Lay you twenty he doesn't, Jack," he said. - -His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming to -force the fighting. The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round -mahogany table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for the -Covent Garden story was well known. Chartersea laid his hand on the back -of our fourth chair, greeted us with some ceremony, and said something -which, under the circumstances, was almost unheard of in that day: -"If you stand in need of one, gentlemen, I should deem it an honour." - -The situation had in it enough spice for all of us. We welcomed him with -alacrity. The cards were cut, and it fell to his Grace to deal, which he -did very prettily, despite his heavy hands. He drew Charles Fox, and -they won steadily. The conversation between deals was anywhere; on the -virtue of Morello cherries for the gout, to which his Grace was already -subject; on Mr. Fox's Ariel, and why he had not carried Sandwich's cup at -Newmarket; on the advisability of putting three-year-olds on the track; -in short, on a dozen small topics of the kind. At length, when Comyn and -I had lost some fifty pounds between us, Chartersea threw down the cards. - -"My coach waits to-night, gentlemen," said he, with some sort of an -accent that did not escape us. "It would give me the greatest pleasure -and you will sup with me in Hanover Square." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS - -His Grace's offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce have -expected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment. -We knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and on -the way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, and I -answered the pressure. Our coats and canes were taken by the duke's -lackeys when we arrived. We were shown over the house. Until now-- -so his Grace informed us--it had not been changed since the time of the -fourth duke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of -the Hanoverian succession. The rooms were high-panelled and furnished in -the German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built. But some -were stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costly -marble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renown was -decorating the ceilings. His Grace appeared to be at some pains that the -significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; was -constantly appealing to Mr. Fox's taste on this or that feature. But -those fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunity to -wink. It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Chartersea meant -to be married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with a purpose. -For me he would have put himself out not an inch had he not understood -that my support came from those quarters. - -He tempered off this exhibition by showing us a collection of pottery -famous in England, that had belonged to the fifth duke, his father. -Every piece of it, by the way, afterwards brought an enormous sum at -auction. Supper was served in a warm little room of oak. The game was -from Derresley Manor, the duke's Nottinghamshire seat, and the wine, so -he told us, was some of fifty bottles of rare Chinon he had inherited. -Melted rubies it was indeed, of the sort which had quickened the blood of -many a royal gathering at Blois and Amboise and Chenonceaux,--the -distilled peasant song of the Loire valley. In it many a careworn clown -had tasted the purer happiness of the lowly. Our restraint gave way -under its influence. His Grace lost for the moment his deformities, and -Mr. Fox made us laugh until our sides ached again. His Lordship told -many a capital yarn, and my own wit was afterwards said to be -astonishing, though I can recall none of it to support the affirmation. - -Not a word or even a hint of Dorothy had been uttered, nor did Chartersea -so much as refer to his Covent Garden experience. At length, when some -half dozen of the wine was gone, and the big oak clock had struck two, -the talk lapsed. It was Charles Fox, of course, who threw the spark into -the powder box. - -"We were speaking of hunting, Chartersea," he said. "Did you ever know -George Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?" - -"No," said his Grace, very innocent. - -"No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat him -for reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit any -colt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then, -with the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging round the -hall gates. But the old squire had plenty of good hunters in the -stables, and haunches on the board, and a cellar that was like the -widow's cruse of oil, or barrel of meal--or whatever she had. All the -old man had to do to lose a guinea was to lay it on a card. He never -nicked in his life, so they say. Well, young George got after a rich -tea-merchant's daughter who had come into the country near by. 'Slife! -she was a saucy jade, and devilish pretty. Such a face! so Stavordale -vowed, and such a neck! and such eyes! so innocent, so ravishingly -innocent. But she knew cursed well George was after the bank deposit, -and kept him galloping. And when he got a view, halloa, egad! she was -stole away again, and no scent. - -"One morning George was out after the hounds with Stavordale, who told me -the story, and a lot of fellows who had come over from Newmarket. He was -upon Aftermath, the horse that Foley bought for five hundred pounds and -was a colt then. Of course he left the field out of sight behind. He -made for a gap in the park wall (faith! there was no lack of 'em), but -the colt refused, and over went George and plumped into a cart of winter -apples some farmer's sot was taking to Bury Saint Edmunds to market. The -fall knocked the sense out of George, for he hasn't much, and Stavordale -thinks he must have struck a stake as he went in. Anyway, the apples -rolled over on top of him, and the drunkard on the seat never woke up, i' -faith. And so they came to town. - -"It so chanced, egad, that the devil sent Miss Tea Merchant to Bury to -buy apples. She amused herself at playing country gentlewoman while papa -worked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and ate -three (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, and -George with it. 'Yon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. -And the lady said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that since -she had bought him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gads -life! she has got him yet, which is a deal stranger." - -Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible. -But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to his -Grace's own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Fox -stared vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said something -especially daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, like -boys who have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. There -was a metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke. - -"I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you." - -"Od's, and so he can!" cried Jack. "I'll take oath on that." - -"I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord," says his Grace, very off- -hand, "that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twenty -minutes." - -"Done!" says Jack, before I could draw breath. - -"I'll take your Grace for another hundred," calmly added Mr. Fox, - -"It seems to me, your Grace," I cried, angry all at once, "it seems to me -that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am not a -jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to lose -money." - -Chartersea swung around my way. - -"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," said he, very coolly, very politely; "yours is -the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be called -off." - -"Slife! I double it!" I said hotly, "provided the horse is alive, and -will stand up." - -"Devilish well put, Richard!" Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off his -restraint. - -"I give you my word the horse is alive, sir," he answered, with a mock -bow; "'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead." - -A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Fox -who spoke first. - -"I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,"--he emphasized the -word forcibly,--"will not refuse to ride the horse for another twenty -minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay your Grace -another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with." - -Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for a longer -head. He grew livid as he perceived how neatly he had been snared in his -own trap. - -"Done!" he cried loudly; "done, gentlemen. It only remains to hit upon -time and place for the contest. I go to York to-morrow, to be back this -day fortnight. And if you will do me the favour of arranging with -Baltimore for the horse, I shall be obliged. I believe he intends -selling it to Astley, the showman." - -"And are we to keep it?" asks Mr. Fox. - -"I am dealing with men of honour," says the duke, with a bow: "I need -have no better assurance that the horse will not be ridden in the -interval." - -"'Od so!" said Comyn, when we were out; "very handsome of him. But I -would not say as much for his Grace." - -And Mr. Fox declared that the duke was no coward, but all other epithets -known might be called him. "A very diverting evening, Richard," said he; -"let's to your apartments and have a bowl, and talk it over." - -And thither we went. - -I did not sleep much that night, but 'twas of Dolly I thought rather than -of Chartersea. I was abroad early, and over to inquire in Arlington -Street, where I found she had passed a good night. And I sent Banks -a-hooting for some violets to send her, for I knew she loved that flower. - -Between ten and eleven Mr. Fox and Comyn and I set out for Baltimore -House. When you go to London, my dears, you will find a vast difference -in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury from what it was that May morning in -1770. Great Russell Street was all a sweet fragrance of gardens, -mingling with the smell of the fields from the open country to the north. -We drove past red Montagu House with its stone facings and dome, like a -French hotel, and the cluster of buildings at its great gate. It had -been then for over a decade the British Museum. The ground behind it was -a great resort for Londoners of that day. Many a sad affair was fought -there, but on that morning we saw a merry party on their way to play -prisoner's base. - -Then we came to the gardens in front of Bedford House, which are now -Bloomsbury Square. For my part I preferred this latter mansion to the -French creation by its side, and admired its long and graceful lines. -Its windows commanded a sweep from Holborn on the south to Highgate on -the north. To the east of it, along Southampton Row, a few great houses -had gone up or were building; and at the far end of that was Baltimore -house, overlooking her Grace of Bedford's gardens. Beyond Lamb's Conduit -Fields stretched away to the countryside. - -I own I had a lively curiosity to see that lordly ruler, the proprietor -of our province, whose birthday we celebrated after his Majesty's. Had -I not been in a great measure prepared, I should have had a revulsion -indeed. - -When he heard that Mr. Fox and my Lord Comyn were below stairs he gave -orders to show them up to his bedroom, where he received us in a night- -gown embroidered with oranges. My Lord Baltimore, alas! was not much to -see. He did not make the figure a ruler should as he sat in his easy -chair, and whined and cursed his Swiss. He was scarce a year over forty, -and he had all but run his race. Dissipation and corrosion had set their -seal upon him, had stamped his yellow face with crows' feet and blotted -it with pimples. But then the glimpse of a fine gentleman just out of -bed of a morning, before he is made for the day, is unfair. - -"Morning, Charles! Howdy, Jack!" said his Lordship, apathetically. -"Glad to know you, Mr. Carvel. Heard of your family. 'Slife! Wish -there were more like 'em in the province." - -This sentiment not sitting very well upon his Lordship, I bowed, and said -nothing. - -"By the bye," he continued, pouring out his chocolate into the dish, -"I sent a damned rake of a parson out there some years gone. Handsome -devil, too. Never seen his match with the women, egad. 'Od's fish--" -he leered. And then added with an oath and a nod and a vile remark: -"Married three times to my knowledge. Carried off dozen or so more. -Some of 'em for me. Many a good night I've had with him. Drank between -us one evening at Essex's gallon and half Champagne and Burgundy apiece. -He got to know too much, y' know," he concluded, with a wicked wink. -"Had to buy him up pack him off." - -"His name, Fred?" said Comyn, with a smile at me. - -"'Sdeath! That's it. Trouble to remember. Damned if I can think." And -he repeated this remark over and over. - -"Allen?" said Comyn. - -"Yes," said Baltimore; "Allen. And egad I think he'll find hell a hotter -place than me. You know him, Mr. Carvel?" - -"Yes," I replied. I said no more. I make no reservations when I avow I -was never so disgusted in my life. But as I looked upon him, haggard and -worn, with retribution so neat at hand, I had no words to protest or -condemn. - -Baltimore gave a hollow mirthless laugh, stopped short, and looked at -Charles Fox. - -"Curse you, Charles! I suppose you are after that little matter I owe -you for quinze." - -"Damn the little matter!" said Fox. "Come, get you perfumed and dressed, -and order up some of your Tokay while we wait. I have to go to St. -Stephens. Mr. Carvel has come to buy your horse Pollux. He has bet -Chartersea two hundred guineas he rides him for twenty minutes." - -"The devil he has!" cried his Lordship, jaded no longer. "Why, you must -know, Mr. Carvel, there was no groom in my stables who would sit him -until Foley made me a present of his man, Miller, who started to ride him -to Hyde Park. As he came out of Great Russell Street, by gads life! -the horse broke and ran out the Tottenham Court Road all the way to -Hampstead. And the fiend picked out a big stone water trough and tossed -Miller against it. Then they gathered up the fragments. Damme if I like -to see suicide, Mr. Carvel. If Chartersea wants to kill you, let him try -it in the fields behind Montagu House here." - -I told his Lordship that I had made the wager, and could not in honour -withdraw, though the horse had killed a dozen grooms. But already he -seemed to have lost interest. He gave a languid pull at the velvet -tassel on his bell-rope, ordered the wine; and, being informed that his -anteroom below was full of people, had them all dismissed with the -message that he was engaged upon important affairs. He told Mr. Fox -he had heard of the Jerusalem Chamber, and vowed he would have a like -institution. He told me he wished the colony of Maryland in hell; that -he was worn out with the quarrels of Governor Eden and his Assembly, and -offered to lay a guinea that the Governor's agent would get to him that -day,--will-he, nill-he. I did not think it worth while to argue with -such a man. - -My Lord took three-quarters of an hour to dress, and swore he had not -accomplished the feat so quickly in a year. He washed his hands and face -in a silver basin, and the scent of the soap filled the room. He rated -his Swiss for putting cinnamon upon his ruffles in place of attar of -roses, and attempted to regale us the while with some of his choicest -adventures. In more than one of these, by the way, his Grace of -Chartersea figured. It was Fox who brought him up. - -"See here, Baltimore," he said, "I'm not squeamish. But I'm cursed if I -like to hear a man who may die any time between bottles talk so." - -His Lordship took the rebuke with an oath, and presently hobbled down the -stairs of the great and silent house to the stable court, where two -grooms were in waiting with the horse. He was an animal of amazing -power, about sixteen hands, and dapple gray in colour. And it required -no special knowledge to see that he had a devil inside him. It gleamed -wickedly out of his eye. - -"'Od's life, Richard!" cried Charles, "he has a Jew nose; by all the -seven tribes I bid you 'ware of him." - -"You have but to ride him with a gold bit, Richard," said Comyn, "and he -is a kitten, I'll warrant." - -At that moment Pollux began to rear and kick, so that it took both the -'ostlers to hold him. - -"Show him a sovereign," suggested Fox. "How do you feel, Richard?" - -"I never feared a horse yet," I said with perfect truth, "nor do I fear -this one, though I know he may kill me." - -I'll lay you twenty pounds you have at least one bone broken, and ten -that you are killed," Baltimore puts in querulously, from the doorway. - -"I'll do this, my Lord," I answered. "If I ride him, he is mine. If he -throws me, I give you twenty pounds for him." - -The gentlemen laughed, and Baltimore vowed he could sell the horse to -Astley for fifty; that Pollux was the son of Renown, of the Duke of -Kingston's stud, and much more. But Charles rallied him out by a -reference to the debt at quinze, and an appeal to his honour as a -sportsman. And swore he was discouraging one of the prettiest encounters -that would take place in England for many a long day. And so the horse -was sent to the stables of the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, and -left there at my order. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -A GLIMPSE OF MR. GARRICK - -Day after day I went to Arlington Street, each time to be turned away -with the same answer: that Miss Manners was a shade better, but still -confined to her bed. You will scarce believe me, my dears, when I say -that Mr. Marmaduke had gone at this crisis with his Grace to the York -races. On the fourth morning, I think, I saw Mrs. Manners. She was much -worn with the vigil she had kept, and received me with an apathy to -frighten me. Her way with me had hitherto always been one of kindness -and warmth. In answer to the dozen questions I showered upon her, she -replied that Dorothy's malady was in no wise dangerous, so Dr. James had -said, and undoubtedly arose out of the excitement of a London season. As -I knew, Dorothy was of the kind that must run and run until she dropped. -She had no notion of the measure of her own strength. Mrs. Manners hoped -that, in a fortnight, she would be recovered sufficiently to be removed -to one of the baths. - -"She wishes me to thank you for the flowers, Richard. She has them -constantly by her. And bids me tell you how sorry she is that she is -compelled to miss so much of your visit to England. Are you enjoying -London, Richard? I hear that you are well liked by the best of company." - -I left, prodigiously cast down, and went directly to Mr. Wedgwood's, to -choose the prettiest set of tea-cups and dishes I could find there. I -pitied Mrs. Manners from my heart, and made every allowance for her talk -with me, knowing the sorrow of her life. Here was yet another link in -the chain of the Chartersea evidence. And I made no doubt that Mr. -Manner's brutal desertion at such a time must be hard to bear. I -continued my visits of inquiry, nearly always meeting some person of -consequence, or the footman of such, come on the same errand as myself. -And once I encountered the young man she had championed against his Grace -at Lady Tankerville's. - -Rather than face the array of anxieties that beset me, I plunged -recklessly into the gayeties--nay, the excesses--of Mr. Charles Fox and -his associates. I paid, in truth, a very high price for my friendship -with Mr. Fox. But, since it did not quite ruin me, I look back upon it -as cheaply bought. To know the man well, to be the subject of his -regard, was to feel an infatuation in common with the little band of -worshippers which had come with him from Eton. They remained faithful to -him all his days, nor adversity nor change of opinion could shake their -attachment. They knew his faults, deplored them, and paid for them. And -this was not beyond my comprehension, tho' many have wondered at it. Did -he ask me for five hundred pounds,--which he did,--I gave it freely, and -would gladly have given more, tho' I saw it all wasted in a night when -the dice rolled against him. For those honoured few of whom I speak -likewise knew his virtues, which were quite as large as the faults, -albeit so mingled with them that all might not distinguish. - -I attended some of the routs and parties, to all of which, as a young -colonial gentleman of wealth and family, I was made welcome. I went to -a ball at Lord Stanley's, a mixture of French horns and clarionets and -coloured glass lanthorns and candles in gilt vases, and young ladies -pouring tea in white, and musicians in red, and draperies and flowers ad -libitum. There I met Mr. Walpole, looking on very critically. He was -the essence of friendliness, asked after my equerry, and said I had done -well to ship him to America. At the opera, with Lord Ossory and Mr. -Fitzpatrick, I talked through the round of the boxes, from Lady -Pembroke's on the right to Lady Hervey's on the left, where Dolly's -illness and Lady Harrington's snuffing gabble were the topics rather than -Giardini's fiddling. Mr. Storer took me to Foote's dressing-room at the -Haymarket, where we found the Duke of Cumberland lounging. I was -presented, and thought his Royal Highness had far less dignity than -the monkey-comedian we had come to see. - -I must not forget the visit I made to Drury Lane Playhouse with my Lords -Carlisle and Grantham and Comyn. The great actor received me graciously -in such a company, you may be sure. He appeared much smaller off the -boards than on, and his actions and speech were quick and nervous. Gast, -his hairdresser, was making him up for the character of Richard III. - -"'Ods!" said Mr. Garrick, "your Lordships come five minutes too late. -Goldsmith is but just gone hence, fresh from his tailor, Filby, of Water -Lane. The most gorgeous creature in London, gentlemen, I'll be sworn. -He is even now, so he would have me know, gone by invitation to my Lord -Denbigh's box, to ogle the ladies." - -"And have you seen your latest lampoon, Mr. Garrick?" asks Comyn, winking -at me. - -Up leaps Mr. Garrick, so suddenly as to knock the paint-pot from Gast's -hand. - -"Nay, your Lordship jests, surely!" he cried, his voice shaking. - -"Jests!" says my Lord, very serious; "do I jest, Carlisle?" And turning -to Mr. Cross, the prompter, who stood by, "Fetch me the St. James's -Evening Post," says he. - -"'Ods my life!" continues poor Garrick, almost in tears; "I have loaned -Foote upwards of two thousand pounds. And last year, as your Lordship -remembers, took charge of his theatre when his leg was cut off. 'Pon my -soul, I cannot account for his ingratitude." - -"'Tis not Foote," says Carlisle, biting his lip; "I know Foote's mark." - -"Then Johnson," says the actor, "because I would not let him have my fine -books in his dirty den to be kicked about the floor, but put my library -at his disposal--" - -"Nay, nor Johnson. Nor yet Macklin nor Murphy." - -"Surely not--" cries Mr. Garrick, turning white under the rouge. The -name remained unpronounced. - -"Ay, ay, Junius, in the Evening Post. He has fastened upon you at last," -answers Comyn, taking the paper. - -"'Sdeath! Garrick," Carlisle puts in, very solemn, "what have you done -to offend the Terrible Unknown? Talebearing to his Majesty, I'll -warrant! I gave you credit for more discretion." - -At these words Mr. Garrick seized the chair for support, and swung -heavily into it. Whereat the young lords burst into such a tempest of -laughter that I could not refrain from joining them. As for Mr. Garrick, -he was so pleased to have escaped that he laughed too, though with a -palpable nervousness. - - [Note by the editor. It was not long after this that Mr. Garrick's - punishment came, and for the self-same offence.] - -"By the bye, Garrick," Carlisle remarked slyly, when he had recovered, -"Mrs. Crewe was vastly taken with the last 'vers' you left on her -dressing-table." - -"Was she, now, my Lord?" said the great actor, delighted, but scarce over -his fright. "You must know that I have writ one to my Lady Carlisle, -on the occasion of her dropping her fan in Piccadilly." Whereupon he -proceeded to recite it, and my Lord Carlisle, being something of a poet -himself, pronounced it excellent. - -Mr. Garrick asked me many questions concerning American life and manners, -having a play in his repertory the scene of which was laid in New York. -In the midst of this we were interrupted by a dirty fellow who ran in, -crying excitedly: - -"Sir, the Archbishop of York is getting drunk at the Bear, and swears -he'll be d--d if he'll act to-night." - -"The archbishop may go to the devil!" snapped Mr. Garrick. "I do not -know a greater rascal, except yourself." - -I was little short of thunderstruck. But presently Mr. Garrick added -complainingly: - -"I paid a guinea for the archbishop, but the fellow got me three -murderers to-day and the best alderman I ever clapped eyes upon. So we -are square." - -After the play we supped with him at his new house in Adelphi Terrace, -next Topham Beauclerk's. 'Twas handsomely built in the Italian style, -and newly furnished throughout, for Mr. Garrick travelled now with a -coach and six and four menservants, forsooth. And amongst other things -he took pride in showing us that night was a handsome snuffbox which the -King of Denmark had given him the year before, his Majesty's portrait set -in jewels thereon. - -Presently the news of the trial of Lord Baltimore's horse began to be -noised about, and was followed by a deluge of wagers at Brooks's and -White's and elsewhere. Comyn and Fox, my chief supporters, laid large -sums upon me, despite all my persuasion. But the most unpleasant part of -the publicity was the rumour that the match was connected with the -struggle for Miss Manners's hand. I was pressed with invitations to go -into the country to ride this or that horse. His Grace the Duke of -Grafton had a mount he would have me try at Wakefield Lodge, and was far -from pleasant over my refusal of his invitation. I was besieged by young -noblemen like Lord Derby and Lord Foley, until I was heartily sick of -notoriety, and cursed the indiscretion of the person who let out the -news, and my own likewise. My Lord March, who did me the honour to lay -one hundred pounds upon my skill, insisted that I should make one of a -party to the famous amphitheatre near Lambeth. Mr. Astley, the showman, -being informed of his Lordship's intention, met us on Westminster Bridge -dressed in his uniform as sergeant major of the Royal Light Dragoons and -mounted on a white charger. He escorted us to one of the large boxes -under the pent-house reserved for the gentry. And when the show was over -and the place cleared, begged, that I would ride his Indian Chief. I -refused; but March pressed me, and Comyn declared he had staked his -reputation upon my horsemanship. Astley was a large man, about my build, -and I donned a pair of his leather breeches and boots, and put Indian -Chief to his paces around the ring. I found him no more restive, nor as -much so, as Firefly. The gentlemen were good enough to clap me roundly, -and Astley vowed (no doubt because of the noble patrons present) that he -had never seen a better seat. - -We all repaired afterwards for supper to Don Saltero's Coffee House and -Museum in Chelsea. And I remembered having heard my grandfather speak of -the place, and tell how he had seen Sir Richard Steele there, listening -to the Don scraping away at the "Merry Christ Church Bells" on his -fiddle. The Don was since dead, but King James's coronation sword and -King Henry VIII.'s coat of mail still hung on the walls. - -The remembrance of that fortnight has ever been an appalling one. -Mr. Carvel had never attempted to teach me the value of money. My -grandfather, indeed, held but four things essential to the conduct of -life; namely, to fear God, love the King, pay your debts, and pursue your -enemies. There was no one in London to advise me, Comyn being but a wild -lad like myself. But my Lord Carlisle gave me a friendly warning: - -"Have a care, Carvel," said he, kindly, "or you will run your grandfather -through, and all your relations beside. I little realized the danger of -it when I first came up." (He was not above two and twenty then.) "And -now I have a wife, am more crippled than I care to be, thanks to this -devilish high play. Will you dine with Lady Carlisle in St. James's -Place next Friday?" - -My heart went out to this young nobleman. Handsome he was, as a picture. -And he knew better than most of your fine gentlemen how to put a check on -his inclinations. As a friend he had few equals, his purse being ever at -the command of those he loved. And his privations on Fox's account were -already greater than many knew. - -I had a call, too, from Mr. Dix. I found him in my parlour one morning, -cringing and smiling, and, as usual, half an hour away from his point. - -"I warrant you, Mr. Carvel," says he, "there are few young gentlemen not -born among the elect that make the great friends you are blessed with." - -"I have been fortunate, Mr. Dix," I replied dryly. - -"Fortunate!" he cried; "good Lord, sir! I hear of you everywhere with -Mr. Fox, and you have been to Astley's with my Lord March. And I have a -draft from you at Ampthill." - -"Vastly well manoeuvred, Mr. Dix," I said, laughing at the guilty change -in his pink complexion. "And hence you are here." - -He fidgeted, and seeing that I paid him no attention, but went on with my -chocolate, he drew a paper from his pocket and opened it. - -"You have spent a prodigious sum, sir, for so short a time," said he, -unsteadily. "'Tis very well for you, Mr. Carvel, but I have to remember -that you are heir only. I am advancing you money without advices from -his Worship, your grandfather. A most irregular proceeding, sir, and one -likely to lead me to trouble. I know not what your allowance may be." - -"Nor I, Mr. Dix," I replied, unreasonably enough. "To speak truth, I -have never had one. You have my Lord Comyn's signature to protect you," -I went on ill-naturedly, for I had not had enough sleep. "And in case -Mr. Carvel protests, which is unlikely and preposterous, you shall have -ten percentum on your money until I can pay you. That should be no poor -investment." - -He apologized. But he smoothed out the paper on his knee. - -"It is only right to tell you, Mr. Carvel, that you have spent one -thousand eight hundred and thirty-seven odd pounds, in home money, which -is worth more than your colonial. Your grandfather's balance with me was -something less than one thousand five hundred, as I made him a remittance -in December last. I have advanced the rest. And yesterday," he went on, -resolutely for him, "yesterday I got an order for five hundred more." - -And he handed me the paper. I must own that the figures startled me. -I laid it down with a fine show of indifference. - -"And so you wish me to stop drawing? Very good, Mr. Dix." - -He must have seen some threat implied, though I meant none. He was my -very humble servant at once, and declared he had called only to let me -know where I stood. Then he bowed himself out, wishing me luck with the -horse he had heard of, and I lighted my pipe with his accompt. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -THE SERPENTINE - -Whether it was Mr. Dix. that started me reflecting, or my Lord Carlisle's -warning, or a few discreet words from young Lady Carlisle herself, I know -not. At all events, I made a resolution to stop high play, and confine -myself to whist and quinze and picquet. For I conceived a notion, -enlarged by Mr. Fox, that I had more than once fallen into the tender -clutches of the hounds. I was so reflecting the morning following Lord -Carlisle's dinner, when Banks announced a footman. - -"Mr. Manners's man, sir," he added significantly, and handed me a little -note. I seized it, and, to hide my emotion, told him to give the man his -beer. - -The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the -wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. - -"So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into -Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never -Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir. One Matter I have -herd that I am Most Concerned about, & I pray you, my Dear Richard do not -allow y'r Recklessness & Contemt for Danger to betray you into a Stil -more Amazing Follie or I shall be very Miserable Indeed. I have Hopes -that the Report is at Best a Rumour & you must sit down & write me that -it is Sir that my Minde may be set at Rest. I fear for you Vastly & I -beg you not Riske y'r Life Foolishly & this for the Sake of one who -subscribes herself y'r Old Playmate & Well-Wisher Dolly. - -"P.S. I have writ Sir Jon Fielding to put you in the Marshallsee or New -Gate until Mr. Carvel can be tolde. I am Better & hope soon to see you -agen & have been informed of y'r Dayly Visitts & y'r Flowers are beside -me. D. M." - - -In about an hour and a half, Mr. Marmaduke's footman was on his way back -to Arlington Street in a condition not to be lightly spoken of. During -that period I had committed an hundred silly acts, and incidentally -learned the letter by heart. I was much distressed to think that she had -heard of the affair of the horse, and more so to surmise that the gossip -which clung to it must also have reached her. But I fear I thought most -of her anxiety concerning me, which reflection caused my hand to shake -from very happiness. "Y'r Flowers are beside me," and, "I beg you not -Riske y'r Life Foolishly," and "I shall be very Miserable Indeed" But -then: "Y'r Old Plamate & Well Wisher"! Nay, she was inscrutable as ever. - -And my reply,--what was that to be? How I composed it in the state of -mind I was in, I have no conception to this day. The chimney was clogged -with papers ere (in a spelling to vie with Dolly's) I had set down my -devotion, my undying devotion, to her interests. I asked forgiveness for -my cruelty on that memorable morning I had last seen her. But even to -allude to the bet with Chartersea was beyond my powers; and as for -renouncing it, though for her sake,--that was not to be thought of. -The high play I readily promised to avoid in the future, and I signed -myself,--well, it matters not after seventy years. - -The same day, Tuesday, I received a letter from his Grace of Chartersea -saying that he looked to reach London that night, but very late. He -begged that Mr. Fox and Lord Comyn and I would sup with him at the Star -and Garter at eleven, to fix matters for the trial on the morrow. Mr. -Fox could not go, but Comyn and I went to the inn, having first -attended "The Tempest" at Drury Lane with Lady Di and Mr. Beauclerk. - -We found his Grace awaiting us in a private room, with Captain Lewis, -of the 60th Foot, who had figured as a second in the duel with young -Atwater. The captain was a rake and a bully and a toadeater, of course, -with a loud and profane tongue, and he had had a bottle too many in the -duke's travelling-coach. There was likewise a Sir John Brooke, a country -neighbour of his Grace in Nottinghamshire. Sir John apparently had no -business in such company. He was a hearty, fox-hunting squire who had -seen little of London; a three-bottle man who told a foul story and went -asleep immediately afterwards. Much to my disappointment, Mr. Manners -had gone to Arlington Street direct. I had longed for a chance to speak -a little of my mind to him. - -This meeting, which I shall not take the time to recount, was near to -ending in an open breach of negotiations. His Grace had lost money at -York, and more to Lewis on the way to London. He was in one of his -vicious humours. He insisted that Hyde Park should be the place of the -contest. In vain did Comyn and I plead for some less public spot on -account of the disagreeable advertisement the matter had received. His -Grace would be damned before he would yield; and Lewis, adding a more -forcible contingency, hinted that our side feared a public trial. Comyn -presently shut him up. - -"Do you ride the horse after his Grace is thrown," says he, "and I agree -to get on after and he does not kill you. 'Sdeath! I am not of the -army," adds my Lord, cuttingly; "I am a seaman, and not supposed to know -a stirrup from a snaffle." - -"'Od's blood!" yelled the captain, "you question my horsemanship, my -Lord? Do I understand your Lordship to question my courage?" - -"After I am thrown!" cries his Grace, very ugly, and fingering the jewels -on his hilt. - -Sir John was awakened by the noise, and turning heavily spilled the whole -of a pint of port on the duke's satin waist coat and breeches. Whereat -Chartersea in a rage flung the bottle at his head with a curse, which it -seems was a habit with his Grace. But the servants coming in, headed by -my old friend the chamberlain, they quieted down. And it was presently -agreed that the horse was to be at noon in the King's Old Road, or Rotten -Row (as it was then beginning to be called), in Hyde Park. - -I shall carry to the grave the memory of the next day. I was up betimes, -and over to the White Horse Cellar to see Pollux groomed, where I found a -crowd about the opening into the stable court. "The young American!" -called some one, and to my astonishment and no small annoyance I was -greeted with a "Huzzay for you, sir!" "My groat's on your honour!" - -This good-will was owing wholly to the duke's unpopularity with all -classes. Inside, sporting gentlemen in hunting-frocks of red and green, -and velvet visored caps, were shouldering favoured 'ostlers from the -different noblemen's stables; and there was a liberal sprinkling of the -characters who attended the cock mains in Drury Lane and at Newmarket. -At the moment of my arrival the head 'ostler was rubbing down the -stallion's flank. - -"Here's ten pounds to ride him, Saunders! "called one of the hunting- -frocks. - -"Umph!" sniffed the 'ostler; "ride 'im is it, yere honour? Two hunner -beast eno', an' a Portugal crown i' th' boot. Sooner take me chaunces o' -Tyburn on 'Ounslow 'Eath. An' Miller waurna able to sit 'im, 'tis no for -th' likes o' me to try. Th' bloody devil took th' shirt off Teddy's back -this morn. I adwises th' young Buckskin t' order 's coffin." Just then -he perceived me, and touched his cap, something abashed. "With -submission, sir, y'r honour'll take an old man's adwise an' not go near -'im." - -Pollux's appearance, indeed, was not calculated to reassure me. He -looked ugly to exaggeration, his ears laid back and his nostrils as big -as crowns, and his teeth bared time and time. Now and anon an impatient -fling of his hoof would make the grooms start away from him. Since -coming to the inn he had been walked a couple of miles each day, with two -men with loaded whips to control him. I was being offered a deal of -counsel, when big Mr. Astley came in from Lambeth, and silenced them all. - -"These grooms, Mr. Carvel," he said to me, as we took a bottle in private -inside, "these grooms are the very devil for superstition. And once a -horse gets a bad name with them, good-by to him. Miller knew how to -ride, of course, but like many another of them, was too damned over- -confident. I warned him more than once for getting young horses into a -fret, and I'm willing to lay a ten-pound note that he angered Pollux. -'Od's life! He is a vicious beast. So was his father, Culloden, before -him. But here's luck to you, sir!" says Mr. Astley, tipping his glass; -"having seen you ride, egad! I have put all the money I can afford in -your favour." - -Before I left him he had given me several valuable hints as to the manner -of managing that kind of a horse: not to auger him with the spurs unless -it became plain that he meant to kill me; to try persuasion first and -force afterwards; and secondly, he taught me a little trick of twisting -the bit which I have since found very useful. - -Leaving the White Horse, I was followed into Piccadilly by the crowd, -until I was forced to take refuge in a hackney chaise. The noise of the -affair had got around town, and I was heartily sorry I had not taken the -other and better method of trying conclusions with the duke, and slapped -his face. I found Jack Comyn in Dover Street, and presently Mr. Fox came -for us with his chestnuts in his chaise, Fitzpatrick with him. At Hyde -Park Corner there was quite a jam of coaches, chaises, and cabriolets and -beribboned phaetons, which made way for us, but kept us busy bowing as we -passed among them. It seemed as if everybody of consequence that I had -met in London was gathered there. One face I missed, and rejoiced that -she was absent, for I had a degraded feeling like that of being the -favourite in a cudgel-bout. And the thought that her name was connected -with all this made my face twitch. I heard the people clapping and saw -them waving in the carriages as we passed, and some stood forward before -the rest in a haphazard way, without rhyme or reason. Mr. Walpole with -Lady Di Beauclerk, and Mr. Storer and Mr. Price and Colonel St. John, and -Lord and Lady Carlisle and Lady Ossory. These I recognized. Inside, the -railing along the row was lined with people. And there stood Pollux, -bridled, with a blanket thrown over his great back and chest, surrounded -still by the hunting-frocks, who had followed him from the White Horse. -Mixed in with these, swearing, conjecturing, and betting, were some to -surprise me, whose names were connected with every track in England: the -Duke of Grafton and my Lords Sandwich and March and Bolingbroke, and Sir -Charles Bunbury, and young Lords Derby and Foley, who, after establishing -separate names for folly on the tracks, went into partnership. My Lord -Baltimore descended listlessly from his cabriolet to join the group. -They all sang out when they caught sight of our party, and greeted me -with a zeal to carry me off my feet. And my Lord Sandwich, having done -me the honour to lay something very handsome upon me, had his chief -jockey on hand to give me some final advice. I believe I was the coolest -of any of them. And at that time of all others the fact came up to me -with irresistible humour that I, a young colonial Whig, who had grown up -to detest these people, should be rubbing noses with them. - -The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay -gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted. As a -most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was held, -he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March and -Sandwich. And it fell to me to champion these. After some discussion -between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire. His Lordship -took his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater -from his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,--the -terms, as he said, being private. - -"Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?" he asked. - -"I am, my Lord," I answered. The bells were pealing noon. - -"Then mount, sir," said he. - -The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long -forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake. My -breath began to come quickly. Through the sunny haze I saw the cows and -deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye -handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate. They took -the blanket off the stallion. Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he -looked brutal indeed. The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel -livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky "God keep you, sir!" -Suddenly I was up. The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a -peaceful farm in Devonshire. The grooms let go of the stallion's head. - -He stood trembling like the throes of death. I gripped my knees as -Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force -impelled me to look aside. From between the broad and hunching shoulders -of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to -freeze his prey. Cattle--fish! The word kept running over my tongue. I -thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and were -soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy. She had begged me not to ride, and -I was risking a life which might save hers. - -The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at -once. The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver -blur. The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell. Fainter and -fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, and -the leaps grew longer and longer. Then my head was cleared like a -steamed window-pane in a cold blast. I saw the road curve in front of -me, I put all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle -was swept into the busy Kensington Road. For the first time I knew what -it was to fear a horse. The stallion's neck was stretched, his shoes -rang on the cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between -carriages coming together. In a flash I understood why the duke had -insisted upon Hyde Park, and that nerved me some. I saw the frightened -coachmen pulling their horses this way and that, I heard the cries of the -foot-passengers, and then I was through, I know not how. Once more I -summoned all my power, recalled the twist Astley had spoken of, and tried -it. I bent his neck for an inch of rein. Next I got another inch, and -then came a taste--the smallest taste--of mastery like elixir. The -motion changed with it, became rougher, and the hoof-beats a fraction -less frequent. He steered like a ship with sail reduced. In and out we -dodged among the wagons, and I was beginning to think I had him, when -suddenly, without a move of warning, he came down rigid with his feet -planted together, and only a miracle and my tight grip restrained me from -shooting over his head. There he stood shaking and snorting, nor any -persuasion would move him. I resorted at last to the spurs. - -He was up in the air in an instant, and came down across the road. Again -I dug in to the rowels, and clung the tighter, and this time he landed -with his head to London. A little knot of people had collected to watch -me, and out stepped a strapping fellow in the King's scarlet, from the -Guard's Horse near by. - -"Hold him, sir!" he said, tipping. "Better dismount, sir. He means -murder, y'r honour." - -"Keep clear, curse you!" I cried, waving him off. "What time is it?" - -He stepped back, no doubt thinking me mad. Some one spoke up and said it -was five minutes past noon. I had the grace to thank him, I believe. To -my astonishment I had been gone but four minutes; they had seemed twenty. -Looking about me, I found I was in the open space before old Kensington -Church, over against the archway there. Once more I dug in the spurs, -this time with success. Almost at a jump the beast took me into the -angle of posts to the east of the churchyard gate and tore up the -footpath of Church Lane, terrified men and women ahead of me taking to -the kennel. He ran irregularly, now on the side of the posts, now -against the bricks, and then I gave myself up. - -Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr. -Dulany speak of. I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the -stallion's jaw and released his mouth altogether. Incredible as it may -seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing -his head like fury, and sweating at every pore. I leaned over and patted -him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the -dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and -into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church. Without -pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I -started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me. I -understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon -with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and a -light hand. - -Before I gained the Life Guard's House I met a dozen horsemen, amongst -them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me, -Colonel St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I was -not dead. Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his -losses to see me safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed -he would give a dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered -that he was damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's chance -of being killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the King's -New Road to avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to Hyde Park -Corner, and in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there was enough -cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the most exacting -of successful generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and finding there -was a minute yet to run I went up the Row a distance and back again -amidst more huzzaing, Pollux prancing and quivering, and frothing his -bit, but never once attempting to break. - -When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce breathe, -crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox vowed he had -never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things which the duke -must have overheard . . . . Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose for my -buttonhole by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my Lord -March, desired to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen of -port upon me, which he had set his best cassock against. My Lord -Sandwich offered me snuff, and invited me to Hichinbroke. Indeed, I -should never be through were I to continue. But I must not forget my old -acquaintance Mr. Walpole, who protested that he must get permission to -present me to Princess Amelia: that her Royal Highness would not rest -content now, until she had seen me. I did not then know her Highness's -sporting propensity. - -Then my Lord March called upon the duke, who stood in the midst of an -army of his toadeaters. I almost pitied him then, tho' I could not -account for the feeling. I think it was because a nobleman with so great -a title should be so cordially hated and despised. There were high words -along the railing among the duke's supporters, Captain Lewis, in his -anger, going above an inference that the stallion had been broken -privately. Chartersea came forward with an indifferent swagger, as if to -say as much: and, in truth, no one looked for more sport, and some were -even turning away. He had scarce put foot to the stirrup, when the -surprise came. Two minutes were up before he was got in the saddle, -Pollux rearing and plunging and dancing in a circle, the grooms shouting -and dodging, and his Grace cursing in a voice to wake the dead and Mr. -Fox laughing, and making small wagers that he would never be mounted. -But at last the duke was up and gripped, his face bloody red, giving vent -to his fury with the spurs. - -Then something happened, and so quickly that it cannot be writ fast -enough. Pollux bolted like a shot out of a sling, vaulted the railing as -easily as you or I would hop over a stick, and galloping across the lawn -and down the embankment flung his Grace into the Serpentine. Precisely, -as Mr. Fox afterwards remarked, as the swine with the evil spirits ran -down the slope into the sea. - -An indescribable bedlam of confusion followed, lords and gentlemen, -tradesmen and grooms, hostlers and apprentices, all tumbling after, many -crying with laughter. My Lord Sandwich's jockey pulled his Grace from -the water in a most pitiable state of rage and humiliation. His side -curls gone, the powder and pomatum washed from his hair, bedraggled and -muddy and sputtering oaths, he made his way to Lord March, swearing by -all divine that a trick was put on him, that he would ride the stallion -to Land's End. His Lordship, pulling his face straight, gravely informed -the duke that the match was over. With this his Grace fell flatly -sullen, was pushed into a coach by Sir John and the captain, and drove -rapidly off Kensington way, to avoid the people at the corner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -IN WHICH I AM ROUNDLY BROUGHT TO TASK - -I would have gone to Arlington Street direct, but my friends had no -notion of letting me escape. They carried me off to Brooks's Club, where -a bowl of punch was brewed directly, and my health was drunk to three -times three. Mr. Storer commanded a turtle dinner in my honour. We were -not many, fortunately,--only Mr. Fox's little coterie. And it was none -other than Mr. Fox who made the speech of the evening. "May I be strung -as high as Haman," said he, amid a tempest of laughter, "if ever I saw -half so edifying a sight as his Grace pitching into the Serpentine, -unless it were his Grace dragged out again. Mr. Carvel's advent has -been a Godsend to us narrow ignoramuses of this island, gentlemen. -To the Englishmen of our colonies, sirs, and that we may never underrate -or misunderstand them more!" - -"Nay, Charles," cried my Lord Comyn. "Where is our gallantry? I give -you first the Englishwomen of our colonies, and in particular the pride -of Maryland, who has brought back to the old country all the graces of -the new,--Miss Manners." - -His voice was drowned by a deafening shout, and we charged our glasses to -drain them brimming. And then we all went to Drury Lane to see Mrs. -Clive romp through 'The Wonder' in the spirit of the "immortal Peg." She -spoke an epilogue that Mr. Walpole had writ especial for her, and made -some witty and sarcastic remarks directed at the gentlemen in our -stagebox. We topped off a very full day by a supper at the Bedford Arms, -where I must draw the certain. - -The next morning I was abed at an hour which the sobriety of old age -makes me blush abed think of. Banks had just concluded a discreet -discourse upon my accomplishment of the day before, and had left for my -newspapers, when he came running back with the information that Miss -Manners would see my honour that day. There was no note. Between us -we made my toilet in a jiffy, and presently I was walking in at the -Manners's door in an amazing hurry, and scarcely waited for a direction. -But as I ran up the stairs, I heard the tinkle of the spinet, and the -notes of an old, familiar tune fell upon my ears. The words rose in my -head with the cadence. - - "Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song, - Love that is too hot and strong - Runneth soon to waste." - -That simple air, already mellowed by an hundred years, had always been -her favourite. She used to sing it softly to herself as we roamed the -woods and fields of the Eastern Shore. Instinctively I paused at the -dressing-room door. Nay, my dears, you need not cry out, such was the -custom of the times. A dainty bower it was, filled with the perfume of -flowers, and rosy cupids disporting on the ceiling; and china and silver -and gold filigree strewn about, with my tea-cups on the table. The -sunlight fell like a halo round Dorothy's head, her hands strayed over -the keys, and her eyes were far away. She had not heard me. I remember -her dress,--a silk with blue cornflowers on a light ground, and the -flimsiest of lace caps resting on her hair. I thought her face paler; -but beyond that she did not show her illness. - -She looked up, and perceived me, I thought, with a start. "So it is -you!" she said demurely enough; "you are come at last to give an account -of yourself." - -"Are you better, Dorothy?" I asked earnestly. - -"Why should you think that I have been ill?" she replied, her fingers -going back to the spinet. "It is a mistake, sir. Dr. James has given me -near a gross of his infamous powders, and is now exploiting another cure. -I have been resting from the fatigues of London, while you have been -wearing yourself out." - -"Dr. James himself told me your condition was serious," I said. - -"Of course," said she; "the worse the disease, the more remarkable the -cure, the more sought after the physician. When will you get over your -provincial simplicity?" - -I saw there was nothing to be got out of her while in this baffling -humour. I wondered what devil impelled a woman to write one way and talk -another. In her note to me she had confessed her illness. The words I -had formed to say to her were tied on my tongue. But on the whole I -congratulated myself. She knew how to step better than I, and there were -many awkward things between us of late best not spoken of. But she kept -me standing an unconscionable time without a word, which on the whole was -cruelty, while she played over some of Dibdin's ballads. - -"Are you in a hurry, sir," she asked at length, turning on me with a -smile, "are you in a hurry to join my Lord March or his Grace of Grafton? -And have you writ Captain Clapsaddle and your Whig friends at home of -your new intimacies, of Mr. Fox and my Lord Sandwich?" - -I was dumb. - -"Yes, you must be wishing to get away," she continued cruelly, picking up -the newspaper. "I had forgotten this notice. When I saw it this morning -I thought of you, and despaired of a glimpse of you to-day." (Reading.) -"At the Three Hats, Islington, this day, the 10th of May, will be played -a grand match at that ancient and much renowned manly diversion called -Double Stick by a sect of chosen young men at that exercise from -different parts of the West Country, for two guineas given free; those -who break the most heads to bear away the prize. Before the above- -mentioned diversion begins, Mr. Sampson and his young German will display -alternately on one, two, and three horses, various surprising and curious -feats of famous horsemanship in like manner as at the Grand Jubilee at -Stratford-upon-Avon. Admittance one shilling each person.' Before you -leave, Mr. Richard," she continued, with her eyes still on the sheet, -"I should like to talk over one or two little matters." - -"Dolly--!" - -"Will you sit, sir?" - -I sat down uneasily, expecting the worst. She disappointed me, as usual. - -"What an unspeakable place must you keep in Dover Street! I cannot send -even a footman there but what he comes back reeling." - -I had to laugh at this. But there was no smile out of my lady. - -"It took me near an hour and a half to answer your note," I replied. - -"And 'twas a masterpiece!" exclaimed Dolly, with withering sarcasm; -"oh, a most amazing masterpiece, I'll be bound! His worship the French -Ambassador is a kitten at diplomacy beside you, sir. An hour and a half, -did you say, sir? Gemini, the Secretary of State and his whole corps -could not have composed the like in a day." - -"Faith!" I cried, with feeling enough; "and if that is diplomacy, I would -rather make leather breeches than be given an embassy." - -She fixed her eyes upon me so disconcertingly that mine fell. - -"There was a time," she said, with a change of tone, "there was a time -when a request of mine, and it were not granted outright, would have -received some attention. This is my first experience at being ignored." - -"I had made a wager," said I, "and could not retract with honour." - -"So you had made a wager! Now we are to have some news at last. How -stupid of you, Richard, not to tell me before. I confess I wonder what -these wits find in your company. Here am I who have seen naught but dull -women for a fortnight, and you have failed to say anything amusing in a -quarter of an hour. Let us hear about the wager." - -"Where is little to tell," I answered shortly, considerably piqued. -"I bet your friend, the Duke of Chartersea, some hundreds of pounds I -could ride Lord Baltimore's Pollux for twenty minutes, after which his -Grace was to get on and ride twenty more." - -"Where did you see the duke?" Dolly interrupted, without much show of -interest. - -I explained how we had met him at Brooks's, and had gone to his house. - -"You went to his house?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows a trifle; -"and Comyn and Mr. Fox? And pray, how did this pretty subject come up?" - -I related, very badly, I fear, Fox's story of young Wrottlesey and the -tea-merchant's daughter. And what does my lady do but get up and turn -her back, arranging some pinks in the window. I could have sworn she was -laughing, had I not known better. - -"Well?" - -"Well, that was a reference to a little pleasantry Mr. Fox had put up on -him some time before. His Grace flared, but tried not to show it. He -said he had heard I could do something with a horse (I believe he made it -up), and Comyn gave oath that I could; and then he offered to bet Comyn -that I could not ride this Pollux, who had killed his groom. That made -me angry, and I told the duke I was no jockey to be put up to decide -wagers, and that he must make his offers to me." - -"La!" said Dolly, "you fell in head over heels." - -"What do you mean by that?" I demanded. - -"Nothing," said she, biting her lip. "Come, you are as ponderous as Dr. -Johnson." - -"Then Mr. Fox proposed that his Grace should ride after me." - -Here Dolly laughed in her handkerchief. - -"I'll be bound," said she. - -"Then the duke went to York," I continued hurriedly; and when he came -back we met him at the Star and Garter. He insisted that the match -should come off in Hyde Park. I should have preferred the open roads -north of Bedford House." - -"Where there is no Serpentine," she interrupted, with the faintest -suspicion of a twinkle about her eyes. "On, sir, on! You are as -reluctant as our pump at Wilmot House in the dry season. I see you were -not killed, as you richly deserved. Let us have the rest of your tale." - -"There is very little more to it, save that I contrived to master the -beast, and his Grace--" - -"--Was disgraced. A vastly fine achievement, surely. But where are you -to stop? You will be shaming the King next by outwalking him. Pray, how -did the duke appear as he was going into the Serpentine?" - -"You have heard?" I exclaimed, the trick she had played me dawning upon -me. - -"Upon my word, Richard, you are more of a simpleton than I thought you. -Have you not seen your newspaper this morning?" - -I explained how it was that I had not. She took up the Chronicle. - -"'This Mr. Carvel has made no inconsiderable noise since his arrival in -town, and yesterday crowned his performances by defeating publicly a -noble duke at a riding match in Hyde Park, before half the quality of the -kingdom. His Lordship of March and Ruglen acted as umpire.' There, sir, -was I not right to beg Sir John Fielding to put you in safe keeping until -your grandfather can send for you?" - -I made to seize the paper, but she held it from me. - -"'If Mr. Carvel remains long enough in England, he bids fair to share the -talk of Mayfair with a certain honourable young gentleman of Brooks's and -the Admiralty, whose debts and doings now furnish most of the gossip for -the clubs and the card tables. Their names are both connected with this -contest. 'Tis whispered that the wager upon which the match was ridden -arose--' here Dolly stopped shortly, her colour mounting, and cried out -with a stamp of her foot. "You are not content to bring publicity upon -yourself, who deserve it, but must needs drag innocent names into the -newspapers." - -"What have they said?" I demanded, ready to roll every printer in London -in the kennel. - -"Nay, you may read for yourself," said she. And, flinging the paper in -my lap, left the room. - -They had not said much more, Heaven be praised. But I was angry and -mortified as I had never been before, realizing for the first time what a -botch I had made of my stay in London. In great dejection, I was picking -up my hat to leave the house, when Mrs. Manners came in upon me, and -insisted that I should stay for dinner. She was very white, and seemed -troubled and preoccupied, and said that Mr. Manners had come back from -York with a cold on his chest, but would insist upon joining the party to -Vauxhall on Monday. I asked her when she was going to the baths, and -suggested that the change would do her good. Indeed, she looked badly. - -"We are not going, Richard," she replied; "Dorothy will not hear of it. -In spite of the doctor she says she is not ill, and must attend at -Vauxhall, too. You are asked?" - -I said that Mr. Storer had included me. I am sure, from the way she -looked at me, that she did not heed my answer. She appeared to hesitate -on the verge of a speech, and glanced once or twice at the doors. - -"Richard, I suppose you are old enough to take care of yourself, tho' you -seem still a child to me. I pray you will be careful, my boy," she said, -with something of the affection she had always borne me, "for your -grandfather's sake, I pray you will run into no more danger. I--we are -your old friends, and the only ones here to advise you." - -She stopped, seemingly, to weigh the wisdom of what was to come next, -while I leaned forward with an eagerness I could not hide. Was she to -speak of the Duke of Chartersea? Alas, I was not to know. For at that -moment Dorothy came back to inquire why I was not gone to the cudgelling -at the Three Hats. I said I had been invited to stay to dinner. - -"Why, I have writ a note asking Comyn," said she. "Do you think the -house will hold you both?" - -His Lordship came in as we were sitting down, bursting with some news, -and he could hardly wait to congratulate Dolly on her recovery before he -delivered it. - -"Why, Richard," says the dog, "what do you think some wag has done now? -They believe at Brooks's 'twas that jackanapes of a parson, Dr. Warner, -who was there yesterday with March." He drew a clipping from his pocket. -"Listen, Miss Dolly: - - "On Wednesday did a carter see - His Grace, the Duke of Ch-rt--s-a, - As plump and helpless as a bag, - A-straddle of a big-boned nag. - "Lord, Sam!" the carter loudly yelled, - On by this wondrous sight impelled, - "We'll run and watch this noble gander - Master a steed, like Alexander." - But, when the carter reached the Row, - His Grace had left it, long ago. - Bucephalus had leaped the green, - The duke was in the Serpentine. - The fervent wish of all good men - That he may ne'er come out again!'" - - -Comyn's impudence took my breath, tho' the experiment interested me not -a little. My lady was pleased to laugh at the doggerel, and even Mrs. -Manners. Its effect upon Mr. Marmaduke was not so spontaneous. His -smile was half-hearted. Indeed, the little gentleman seemed to have -lost his spirits, and said so little (for him), that I was encouraged to -corner him that very evening and force him to a confession. But I might -have known he was not to be caught. It appeared almost as if he guessed -my purpose, for as soon as ever the claret was come on, he excused -himself, saying he was promised to Lady Harrington, who wanted one. - -Comyn and I departed early on account of Dorothy. She had denied a dozen -who had left cards upon her. - -"Egad, Richard," said my Lord, when we had got to my lodgings, "I made -him change colour, did I not? Do you know how the little fool looks to -me? 'Od's life, he looks hunted, and cursed near brought to earth. We -must fetch this thing to a point, Richard. And I am wondering what -Chartersea's next move will be," he added thoughtfully. - - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -HOLLAND HOUSE - -On the morrow, as I was setting out to dine at Brooks's, I received the -following on a torn slip of paper: "Dear Richard, we shall have a good -show to-day you may care to see." It was signed "Fox," and dated at St. -Stephen's. I lost no time in riding to Westminster, where I found a -flock of excited people in Parliament Street and in the Palace Yard. And -on climbing the wide stone steps outside and a narrower flight within I -was admitted directly into the august presence of the representatives of -the English people. They were in a most prodigious and unseemly state of -uproar. - -What a place is old St. Stephen's Chapel, over St. Mary's in the Vaults, -for the great Commons of England to gather! It is scarce larger or more -imposing than our own assembly room in the Stadt House in Annapolis. -St. Stephen's measures but ten yards by thirty, with a narrow gallery -running along each side for visitors. In one of these, by the rail, I -sat down suffocated, bewildered, and deafened. And my first impression -out of the confusion was of the bewigged speaker enthroned under the -royal arms, sore put to restore order. On the table in front of him lay -the great mace of the Restoration. Three chandeliers threw down their -light upon the mob of honourable members, and I wondered what had put -them into this state of uproar. - -Presently, with the help of a kind stranger on my right, who was -occasionally making shorthand notes, I got a few bearings. That was the -Treasury Bench, where Lord North sat (he was wide awake, now). And there -was the Government side. He pointed out Barrington and Weymouth and -Jerry Dyson and Sandwich, and Rigby in the court suit of purple velvet -with the sword thrust through the pocket. I took them all in, as some of -the worst enemies my country had in Britain. Then my informant seemed to -hesitate, and made bold to ask my persuasion. When I told him I was a -Whig, and an American, he begged the favour of my hand. - -"There, sir," he cried excitedly, "that stout young gentleman with the -black face and eyebrows, and the blacker heart, I may say,--the one -dressed in the fantastical costume called by a French name,--is Mr. -Charles Fox. He has been sent by the devil himself, I believe, to ruin -this country. 'Ods, sir, that devil Lord Holland begot him. He is but -one and twenty, but his detestable arts have saved North's neck from -Burke and Wedderburn on two occasions this year." - -"And what has happened to-day?" I asked, smiling. - -The stranger smiled, too. - -"Why, sir," he answered, raising his voice above the noise; "if you have -been in London any length of time, you will have read the account, with -comment, of the Duke of Grafton's speech in the Lords, signed Domitian. -Their Lordships well know it should have been over a greater signature. -This afternoon his Grace of Manchester was talking in the Upper House -about the Spanish troubles, when Lord Gower arose and desired that the -place might be cleared of strangers, lest some Castilian spy might lurk -under the gallery. That was directed against us of the press, sir, and -their Lordships knew it. 'Ad's heart, sir, there was a riot, the house -servants tumbling everybody out, and Mr. Burke and Mr. Dunning in the -boot, who were gone there on the business of this house to present a -bill. Those gentlemen are but just back, calling upon the commons to -revenge them and vindicate their honour. And my Lord North looks -troubled, as you will mark, for the matter is like to go hard against -his Majesty's friends. But hush, Mr. Burke is to speak." - -The horse fell quiet to listen, and my friend began to ply his shorthand -industriously. I leaned forward with a sharp curiosity to see this great -friend of America. He was dressed in a well-worn suit of brown, and I -recall a decided Irish face, and a more decided Irish accent, which -presently I forgot under the spell of his eloquence. I have heard it -said he had many defects of delivery. He had none that day, or else I -was too little experienced to note them. Afire with indignation, he told -how the deputy black rod had hustled him like a vagabond or a thief, and -he called the House of Lords a bear garden. He was followed by Dunning, -in a still more inflammatory mood, until it seemed as if all the King's -friends in the Lower House must desert their confederates in the Upper. -No less important a retainer than Mr. Onslow moved a policy of -retaliation, and those that were left began to act like the Egyptians -when they felt the Red Sea under them. They nodded and whispered in -their consternation. - -It was then that Mr. Fox got calmly up before the pack of frightened -mercenaries and argued (God save the mark!) for moderation. He had the -ear of the house in a second, and he spoke with all the confidence--this -youngster who had just reached his majority--he had used with me before -his intimates. I gaped with astonishment and admiration. The Lords, -said he, had plainly meant no insult to this honourable house, nor yet to -the honourable members. They had aimed at the common enemies of man, the -printers. And for this their heat was more than pardonable. My friend -at my side stopped his writing to swear under his breath. "Look at 'em!" -he cried; "they are turning already. He could argue Swedenborg into -popery!" - -The deserters were coming back to the ranks, indeed, and North and Dyson -and Weymouth had ceased to look haggard, and were wreathed in smiles. In -vain did Mr. Burke harangue them in polished phrase. It was a language -North and Company did not understand, and cared not to learn. Their -young champion spoke the more worldly and cynical tongue of White's and -Brooks's, with its shorter sentences and absence of formality. And even -as the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose, Mr. Fox quoted history -and the classics, with plenty more that was not above the heads of the -booted and spurred country squires. And thus, for the third time, he -earned the gratitude of his gracious Majesty. - -"Well, Richard," said he, slipping his arm through mine as we came out -into Parliament Street, "I promised you some sport. Have you enjoyed -it?" - -I was forced to admit that I had. - -"Let us to the 'Thatched House,' and have supper privately," he -suggested. "I do not feel like a company to-night." We walked on for -some time in silence. Presently he said: - -"You must not leave us, Richard. You may go home to see your grandfather -die, and when you come back I will see about getting you a little borough -for what my father paid for mine. And you shall marry Dorothy, and -perchance return in ten years as governor of a principality. That is, -after we've ruined you at the club. How does that prospect sit?" - -I wondered at the mood he was in, that made him choose me rather than the -adulation and applause he was sure to receive at Brooks's for the part he -had played that night. After we had satisfied our hunger,--for neither -of us had dined,--and poured out a bottle of claret, he looked up at me -quizzically. - -"I have not heard you congratulate me," he said. - -"Nor will you," I replied, laughing. - -"I like you the better for it, Richard. 'Twas a damned poor performance, -and that's truth." - -"I thought the performance remarkable," I said honestly. - -"Oh, but it was not," he answered scornfully. "The moment that dun- -coloured Irishman gets up, the whole government pack begins to whine -and shiver. There are men I went to school with I fear more than Burke. -But you don't like to see the champion of America come off second best. -Is that what you're thinking?" - -"No. But I was wondering why you have devoted your talents to the -devil," I said, amazed at my boldness. - -He glanced at me, and half laughed again. - -"You are cursed frank," said he; "damned frank." - -"But you invited it." - -"Yes," he replied, "so I did. Give me a man who is honest. Fill up -again," said he; "and spit out all you would like to say, Richard." - -"Then," said I, "why do you waste your time and your breath in defending -a crew of political brigands and placemen, and a king who knows not the -meaning of the word gratitude, and who has no use for a man of ability? -You have honoured me with your friendship, Charles Fox, and I may take -the liberty to add that you seem to love power more than spoils. You -have originality. You are honest enough to think and act upon your own -impulses. And pardon me if I say you have very little chance on that -side of the house where you have put yourself." - -"You seem to have picked up a trifle since you came into England," he -said. "A damned shrewd estimate, I'll be sworn. And for a colonial! -But, as for power," he added a little doggedly, "I have it in plenty, and -the kind I like. The King and North hate and fear me already more than -Wilkes." - -"And with more cause," I replied warmly. "His Majesty perhaps knows that -you understand him better, and foresees the time when a man of your -character will give him cause to fear indeed." - -He did not answer that, but called for a reckoning; and taking my arm -again, we walked out past the sleeping houses. - -"Have you ever thought much of the men we have in the colonies?" I -asked. - -"No," he replied; "Chatham stands for 'em, and I hate Chatham on my -father's account. That is reason enough for me." - -"You should come back to America with me," I said. "And when you had -rested awhile at Carvel Hall, I would ride with you through the length of -the provinces from Massachusetts to North Carolina. You will see little -besides hard-working, self-respecting Englishmen, loyal to a king who -deserves loyalty as little as Louis of France. But with their eyes open, -and despite the course he has taken. They are men whose measure of -resolution is not guessed at." - -He was silent again until we had got into Piccadilly and opposite his -lodgings. - -"Are they all like you?" he demanded. - -"Who?" said I. For I had forgotten my words. - -"The Americans." - -"The greater part feel as I do." - -"I suppose you are for bed," he remarked abruptly. - -"The night is not yet begun," I answered, repeating his favourite words, -and pointing at the glint of the sun on the windows. - -"What do you say to a drive behind those chestnuts of mine, for a breath -of air? I have just got my new cabriolet Selwyn ordered in Paris." - -Soon we were rattling over the stones in Piccadilly, wrapped in -greatcoats, for the morning wind was cold. We saw the Earl of March and -Ruglen getting out of a chair before his house, opposite the Green Park, -and he stopped swearing at the chairmen to wave at us. - -"Hello, March!" Mr. Fox said affably, "you're drunk." - -His Lordship smiled, bowed graciously if unsteadily to me, and did not -appear to resent the pleasantry. Then he sighed. - -"What a pair of cubs it is," said he; "I wish to God I was young again. -I hear you astonished the world again last night, Charles." - -We left him being assisted into his residence by a sleepy footman, paid -our toll at Hyde Park Corner, and rolled onward toward Kensington, Fox -laughing as we passed the empty park at the thought of what had so lately -occurred there. After the close night of St. Stephen's, nature seemed -doubly beautiful. The sun slanted over the water in the gardens in bars -of green and gold. The bright new leaves were on the trees, and the -morning dew had brought with it the smell of the living earth. We passed -the stream of market wagons lumbering along, pulled by sturdy, patient -farm-horses, driven by smocked countrymen, who touched their caps to the -fine gentlemen of the court end of town; who shook their heads and -exchanged deep tones over the whims of quality, unaccountable as the -weather. But one big-chested fellow arrested his salute, a scowl came -over his face, and he shouted back to the wagoner whose horses were -munching his hay: - -"Hi, Jeems, keep down yere hands. Mr. Fox is noo friend of we." - -This brought a hard smile on Mr. Fox's face. - -"I believe, Richard," he said, "I have become more detested than any man -in Parliament." - -"And justly," I replied; "for you have fought all that is good in you." - -"I was mobbed once, in Parliament Street. I thought they would kill me. -Have you ever been mobbed, Richard?" he asked indifferently. - -"Never, I thank Heaven," I answered fervently. - -"I think I would rather be mobbed than indulge in any amusement I know -of," he continued. "Than confound Wedderburn, or drive a measure against -Burke,--which is no bad sport, my word on't. I would rather be mobbed -than have my horse win at Newmarket. There is a keen pleasure you wot -not of, my lad, in listening to Billingsgate and Spitalfields howl -maledictions upon you. And no sensation I know of is equal to that of -the moment when the mud and sticks and oranges are coming through the -windows of your coach, when the dirty weavers are clutching at your -ruffles and shaking their filthy fists under your nose." - -"It is, at any rate, strictly an aristocratic pleasure," I assented, -laughing. - -So we came to Holland House. Its wide fields of sprouting corn, its -woods and pastures and orchards in blossom, were smiling that morning, as -though Leviathan, the town, were not rolling onward to swallow them. -Lord Holland had bought the place from the Warwicks, with all its -associations and memories. The capped towers and quaint facades and -projecting windows were plain to be seen from where we halted in the -shaded park, and to the south was that Kensington Road we had left, over -which all the glory and royalty of England at one time or another had -rolled. Under these majestic oaks and cedars Cromwell and Ireton had -stood while the beaten Royalists lashed their horses on to Brentford. -Nor did I forget that the renowned Addison had lived here after his -unhappy marriage with Lady Warwick, and had often ridden hence to -Button's Coffee House in town, where my grandfather had had his dinner -with Dean Swift. - -We sat gazing at the building, which was bathed in the early sun, at the -deer and sheep grazing in the park, at the changing colours of the young -leaves as the breeze swayed them. The market wagons had almost ceased -now, and there was little to break the stillness. - -"You love the place?" I said. - -He started, as though I had awakened him out of a sleep. And he was no -longer the Fox of the clubs, the cynical, the reckless. He was no longer -the best-dressed man in St. James's Street, or the aggressive youngster -of St. Stephen's. - -"Love it!" he cried. "Ay, Richard, and few guess how well. You will -not laugh when I tell you that my happiest days have been passed here, -when I was but a chit, in the long room where Addison used to walk up and -down composing his Spectators: or trotting after my father through these -woods and gardens. A kinder parent does not breathe than he. Well I -remember how he tossed me in his arms under that tree when I had thrashed -another lad for speaking ill of him. He called me his knight. In all my -life he has never broken faith with me. When they were blasting down a -wall where those palings now stand, he promised me I should see it done, -and had it rebuilt and blown down again because I had missed the sight. -All he ever exacted of me was that I should treat him as an elder -brother. He had his own notion of the world I was going into, and -prepared me accordingly. He took me from Eton to Spa, where I learned -gaming instead of Greek, and gave me so much a night to risk at play." - -I looked at him in astonishment. To say that I thought these relations -strange would have been a waste of words. - -"To be sure," Charles continued, "I was bound to learn, and could acquire -no younger." He flicked the glossy red backs of his horses with his -whip. "You are thinking it an extraordinary education, I know," he added -rather sadly. "I hav a-told you this--God knows why! Yes, because I -like you damnably, and you would have heard worse elsewhere, both of him -and of me. I fear you have listened to the world's opinion of Lord -Holland." - -Indeed, I had heard a deal of that nobleman's peculations of the public -funds. But in this he was no worse than the bulk of his colleagues. -His desertion of William Pitt I found hard to forgive. - -"The best father in the world, Richard!" cried Charles. "If his former -friends could but look into his kind heart, and see him in his home, -they would not have turned their backs upon him. I do not mean such -scoundrels as Rigby. And now my father is in exile half the year in -Nice, and the other half at King's Gate. The King and Jack Bute used him -for a tool, and then cast him out. You wonder why I am of the King's -party?" said he, with something sinister in his smile; "I will tell you. -When I got my borough I cared not a fig for parties or principles. I had -only the one definite ambition, to revenge Lord Holland. Nay," he -exclaimed, stopping my protest, "I was not too young to know rottenness -as well as another. The times are rotten in England. You may have -virtue in America, amongst a people which is fresh from a struggle with -the earth and its savages. We have cursed little at home, in faith. The -King, with his barley water and rising at six, and shivering in chapel, -and his middle-class table, is rottener than the rest. The money he -saves in his damned beggarly court goes to buy men's souls. His word is -good with none. For my part I prefer a man who is drunk six days out of -the seven to one who takes his pleasure so. And I am not so great a fool -that I cannot distinguish justice from injustice. I know the wrongs of -the colonies, which you yourself have put as clear as I wish to hear, -despite Mr. Burke and his eloquence. - - [My grandfather has made a note here, which in justice should be - added, that he was not deceived by Mr. Fox's partiality.--D. C. C.] - -And perhaps, Richard," he concluded, with a last lingering look at the -old pile as he turned his horses, "perhaps some day, I shall remember -what you told us at Brooks's." - -It was thus, boyishly, that Mr. Fox chose to take me into his confidence, -an honour which I shall remember with a thrill to my dying day. So did -he reveal to me the impulses of his early life, hidden forever from his -detractors. How little does the censure of this world count, which -cannot see the heart behind the embroidered waistcoat! When Charles Fox -began his career he was a thoughtless lad, but steadfast to such -principles as he had formed for himself. They were not many, but, -compared to those of the arena which he entered, they were noble. He -strove to serve his friends, to lift the name of a father from whom he -had received nothing but kindness, however misguided. And when he saw -at length the error of his ways, what a mighty blow did he strike for -the right! - -"Here is a man," said Dr. Johnson, many years afterwards, "who has -divided his kingdom with Caesar; so that it was a doubt whether the -nation should be ruled by the sceptre of George the Third or the tongue -of Fox." - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -VAUXHALL - -Matters had come to a pretty pickle indeed. I was openly warned at -Brooks's and elsewhere to beware of the duke, who was said upon various -authority to be sulking in Hanover Square, his rage all the more -dangerous because it was smouldering. I saw Dolly only casually before -the party to Vauxhall. Needless to say, she flew in the face of Dr. -James's authority, and went everywhere. She was at Lady Bunbury's drum, -whither I had gone in another fruitless chase after Mr. Marmaduke. -Dr. Warner's verse was the laughter of the company. And, greatly to my -annoyance,--in the circumstances,--I was made a hero of, and showered -with three times as many invitations as I could accept. - -The whole story got abroad, even to the awakening of the duke in Covent -Garden. And that clownish Mr. Foote, of the Haymarket, had added some -lines to a silly popular song entitled 'The Sights o' Lunnun', with which -I was hailed at Mrs. Betty's fruit-stall in St. James's Street. Here is -one of the verses: - - "In Maryland, he hunts the Fox - From dewy Morn till Day grows dim; - At Home he finds a Paradox, - From Noon till Dawn the Fox hunts him." - -Charles Fox laughed when he heard it. But he was serious when he came to -speak of Chartersea, and bade me look out for assassination. I had Banks -follow me abroad at night with a brace of pistols under his coat, albeit -I feared nothing save that I should not have an opportunity to meet the -duke in a fair fight. And I resolved at all hazards to run Mr. Marmaduke -down with despatch, if I had to waylay him. - -Mr. Storer, who was forever giving parties, was responsible for this one -at Vauxhall. We went in three coaches, and besides Dorothy and Mr. -Marmaduke, the company included Lord and Lady Carlisle, Sir Charles and -Lady Sarah Bunbury, Lady Ossory and Lady Julia Howard, two Miss Stanleys -and Miss Poole, and Comyn, and Hare, and Price, and Fitzpatrick, the -latter feeling very glum over a sum he had dropped that afternoon to Lord -Harrington. Fox had been called to St. Stephen's on more printer's -business. - -Dolly was in glowing pink, as I loved best to see her, and looked divine. -Comyn and I were in Mr. Manners's coach. The evening was fine and warm, -and my lady in very lively spirits. As we rattled over Westminster -Bridge, the music of the Vauxhall band came "throbbing through the still -night," and the sky was bright with the reflection of the lights. It was -the fashion with the quality to go late; and so eleven o'clock had struck -before we had pulled up between Vauxhall stairs, crowded with watermen -and rough mudlarks, and the very ordinary-looking house which forms the -entrance of the great garden. Leaving the servants outside, single-file -we trailed through the dark passage guarded by the wicketgate. - -"Prepare to be ravished, Richard," said my lady, with fine sarcasm. - -"You were yourself born in the colonies, miss," I retorted. "I confess -to a thrill, and will not pretend that I have seen such sights often -enough to be sated." - -"La!" exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; "I vow this is refreshing. -Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?" - -Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my -enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me. A great -orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides -with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or swept -around in circles. These were filled with people of all sorts and -conditions, supping and making merry. Other people were sauntering under -the trees, keeping step with the music. Lamps of white and blue and red -and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in -stars and crescents upon the buildings. - -"Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin." - - "'O Patty! Soft in feature, - I've been at dear Vauxhall; - No paradise is sweeter, - Not that they Eden call.'" - -whispered Dolly, paraphrasing. - -At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the brothers, -proprietors of the gardens. He was a very lively young fellow who seemed -to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk about a little -before being shown to the boxes reserved for us. - -"They are on the right side, Mr. Tyers?" demanded Mr. Storer. - -"Oh, to be sure, sir. Your man was most particular to stipulate the pink -and blue flowered brocades, next the Prince of Wales's." - -"But you must have the band stop that piece, Mr. Tyers," cried Lady -Sarah. "I declare, it is too much for my nerves. Let them play Dibbin's -Ephesian Matron." - -"As your Ladyship wishes," responded the obliging Mr. Tyers, and sent off -an uniformed warder to the band-master. - -As he led us into the Rotunda, my Lady Dolly, being in one of her -whimsical humours, began to recite in the manner of the guide-book, to -the vast diversion of our party and the honest citizens gaping at us. - -"This, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen," says the minx, "is that -marvellous Rotunda commonly known as the 'umbrella,' where the music -plays on wet nights, and where we have our masquerades and ridottos. -Their Royal Highnesses are very commonly seen here on such occasions. -As you see, it is decorated with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with -gilded festoons. That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth. The -organ in the orchestra cost--you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,--and -the ceiling is at least two hundred feet high. Gentlemen from the -colonies and the country take notice." - -By this time we were surrounded. Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and -crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, -was wholly convulsed. - -"Faith, Miss Manners, and you would consent to do this two nights more, -we should have to open another gate," he declared. Followed by the mob, -which it seems was part of the excitement, he led us out of the building -into the Grand Walk; and offered to turn on the waterfall and mill, which -(so Lady Sarah explained to me) the farmers and merchants fell down and -worshipped every night at nine, to the tinkling of bells. She told Mr. -Tyers there was diversion enough without "tin cascades." When we got to -the Grand Cross Walk he pointed out the black "Wilderness" of tall elms -and cedars looming ahead of us. And--so we came to the South Walk, with -its three triumphal arches framing a noble view of architecture at the -far end. Our gentlemen sauntered ahead, with their spy-glasses, staring -the citizens' pretty daughters out of countenance, and making cynical -remarks. - -"Why, egad!" I heard Sir Charles say, "the wig-makers have no cause to -petition his Majesty for work. I'll be sworn the false hair this good -staymaker has on cost a guinea." - -A remark which caused the staymaker (if such he was) such huge discomfort -that he made off with his wife in the opposite direction, to the time of -jeers and cock-crows from the bevy of Vauxhall bucks walking abreast. - -"You must show us the famous 'dark walks,' Mr. Tyers," says Dorothy. - -"Surely you will not care to see those, Miss Manners." - -"O lud, of course you must," chimed in the Miss Stanleys; "there is no -spice in these flaps and flies." - -He led us accordingly into Druid's Walk, overarched with elms, and dark -as the shades, our gentlemen singing, "'Ods! Lovers will contrive,'" in -chorus, the ladies exclaiming and drawing together. Then I felt a soft, -restraining hold on my arm, and fell back instinctively, vibrating to the -touch. - -"Could you not see that I have been trying to get a word with you for -ever so long?" - -"I trust you to find a way, Dolly, if you but wish," I replied, admiring -her stratagem. - -"I am serious to-night." Indeed, her voice betrayed as much. How well I -recall those rich and low tones! "I said I wished you shut up in the -Marshalsea, and I meant it. I have been worrying about you." - -"You make me very happy," said I; which was no lie. - -"Richard, you are every bit as reckless and indifferent of danger as they -say your father was. And I am afraid--" - -"Of what?" I asked quickly. - -"You once mentioned a name to me--" - -"Yes?" I was breathing deep. - -"I have forgiven you," she said gently. "I never meant to have referred -to that incident more. You will understand whom I mean. You must know -that he is a dangerous man, and a treacherous. Oh!" she exclaimed, -"I have been in hourly terror ever since you rode against him in Hyde -Park. There! I have said it." - -The tense sweetness of that moment none will ever know. - -"But you have more reason to fear him than I, Dorothy." - -"Hush!" she whispered, catching her breath; "what are you saying?" - -"That he has more cause to fear me than I to dread him." - -She came a little closer. - -"You stayed in London for me, Richard. Why did you? There was no need," -she exclaimed; "there was no need, do you hear? Oh, I shall never -forgive Comyn for his meddling! I am sure 'twas he who told you some -ridiculous story. He had no foundation for it." - -"Dorothy," I demanded, my voice shaking with earnestness, "will you tell -me honestly there is no foundation for the report that the duke is -intriguing to marry you?" - -That question was not answered, and regret came the instant it had left -my lips--regret and conviction both. Dorothy joined Lady Carlisle before -our absence had been noted, and began to banter Fitzpatrick upon his -losings. - -We were in the lighted Grove again, and sitting down to a supper of -Vauxhall fare: transparent slices of ham (which had been a Vauxhall joke -for ages), and chickens and cheese cakes and champagne and claret, and -arrack punch. Mr. Tyers extended the concert in our favour. Mrs. -Weichsell and the beautiful Baddeley trilled sentimental ballads which -our ladies chose; and Mr. Vernon, the celebrated tenor, sang Cupid's -Recruiting Sergeant so happily that Storer sent him a bottle of -champagne. After which we amused ourselves with catches until the space -between our boxes and the orchestra was filled. In the midst of this -Comyn came quietly in from the other box and took a seat beside me. - -"Chartersea is here to-night," said he. - -I started. "How do you know?" - -"Tyers told me he turned up half an hour since. Tom asked his Grace to -join our party," his Lordship laughed. "Duke said no--he was to be here -only half an hour, and Tom did not push him. He told me as a joke, and -thinks Chartersea came to meet some petite." - -"Any one with him?" I asked. - -"Yes. Tall, dark man, one eye cast,--that's Lewis. They have come on -some dirty work, Richard. Watch little Marmaduke. He has been fidgety -as a cat all night." - -"That's true," said I. Looking up, I caught Dorothy's eyes upon us, her -lips parted, uneasiness and apprehension plain upon her face. Comyn -dropped his voice still lower. - -"I believe she suspects something," he said, rising. "Chartersea is -gone off toward the Wilderness, so Tom says. You must not let little -Marmaduke see him. If Manners gets up to go, I will tune up Black-eked -Susan, and do you follow on some pretext. If you are not back in a -reasonable time, I'll after you." - -He had been gone scant three minutes before I heard his clear voice -singing, "in the Downs", and up I got, with a precipitation far from -politic, and stepped out of the box. Our company stared in surprise. -But Dorothy rose clear from her chair. The terror I saw stamped upon her -face haunts me yet, and I heard her call my name. - -I waited for nothing. Gaining the Grand Walk, I saw Mr. Marmaduke's -insignificant figure dodging fearfully among the roughs, whose hour it -was. He traversed the Cross Walk, and twenty yards farther on dived into -an opening in the high hedge bounding the Wilderness. Before he had made -six paces I had him by the shoulder, and he let out a shriek of fright -like a woman's. - -"It is I, Richard Carvel, Mr. Manners," I said shortly. I could not keep -out the contempt from my tone. "I beg a word with you." - -In his condition then words were impossible. His teeth rattled again, -and he trembled like a hare caught alive. I kept my hold of him, and -employed the time until he should be more composed peering into the -darkness. For all I knew Chartersea might be within ear-shot. But I -could see nothing but black trunks of trees. - -"What is it, Richard?" - -"You are going to meet Chartersea," I said. - -He must have seen the futility of a lie, or else was scared out of all -contrivance. "Yes," he said weakly. - -"You have allowed it to become the talk of London that this filthy -nobleman is blackmailing you for your daughter," I went on, without -wasting words. "Tell me, is it, or is it not, true?" - -As he did not answer, I retained a handful of the grained silk on his -shoulder as a measure of precaution. - -"Is this so?" I repeated. - -"You must know, I suppose," he said, under his breath, and with a note of -sullenness. - -"I must," I said firmly. "The knowledge is the weapon need, for I, too, -am going to meet Chartersea." - -He ceased quivering all at once. - -"You are going to meet him!" he cried, in another voice. "Yes, yes, it -is so,--it is so. I will tell you all." - -"Keep it to yourself, Mr. Manners," I replied, with repugnance, "I have -heard all I wish. Where is he?" I demanded. - -"Hold the path until you come to him. And God bless--" - -I shook my head. - -"No, not that! Do you go back to the company and make some excuse for -me. Do not alarm them. And if you get the chance, tell Lord Comyn where -to come." - -I waited until I saw him under the lights of the Grand Walk, and fairly -running. Then I swung on my heel. I was of two minds whether to wait -for Comyn, by far the wiser course. The unthinking recklessness I had -inherited drove me on. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -THE WILDERNESS - -My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made out a -bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I should have -known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as I -stopped abreast them, and called the duke by name. - -"Mr. Carvel!" he cried; "what the devil do you here, sir?" - -"I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners," I said. "May I speak -to your Grace alone?" - -He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneering -laugh. - -"No," says he, "damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you, -sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. And -he is not the first, Lewis." - -"Nor the last, by G--," says the captain. - -"I have a score to settle with you, d--n you!" cried Chartersea. - -"That is why I am here, your Grace," I replied; "only you have twisted -the words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you," -I cried, boiling with anger, "I have come to tell you there has been foul -play enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put an -end to your blackmail." - -In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. But -I was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face--nay, -boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of the -scabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to distance at the same instant. -Then, with something of a shudder, I remembered young Atwater, and a 380 -brace of other instances of his villany. I looked for the captain. He -was gone. - -Our blades, the duke's and mine, came together with a ring, and I felt -the strength of his wrist behind his, and of his short, powerful arm. -The steel sung with our quick changes from 'quarte' to 'tierce'. 'Twas -all by the feeling, without light to go by, and hatred between us left -little space for skill. Our lunges were furious. 'Twas not long before -I felt his point at my chest, but his reach was scant. All at once the -music swelled up voices and laughter were wafted faintly from the -pleasure world of lights beyond. But my head was filled, to the -exclusion of all else, with a hatred and fury. And (God forgive me!) -from between my teeth came a prayer that if I might kill this monster, -I would die willingly. - -Suddenly, as I pressed him, he shifted ground, and there was Lewis -standing within range of my eye. His hands were nowhere--they were -behind his back! God alone knows why he had not murdered me. To keep -Chartersea between him and me I swung another quarter. The duke seemed -to see my game, struggled against it, tried to rush in under my guard, -made a vicious lunge that would have ended me then and there had he not -slipped. We were both panting like wild beasts. When next I raised my -eyes Lewis had faded into the darkness. Then I felt my head as wet as -from a plunge, the water running on my brow, and my back twitching. -Every second I thought the sting of his sword was between my ribs. But -to forsake the duke would have been the maddest of follies. - -In that moment of agony came footsteps beating on the path, and by tacit -consent our swords were still. We listened. - -"Richard! Richard Carvel!" - -For the second time in my life I thanked Heaven for that brave and loyal -English heart. I called back, but my throat was dry and choked. - -"So they are at their d--d assassins' tricks again! You need have no -fear of one murderer." - -With that their steels rang out behind me, like broadswords, Lewis -wasting his breath in curses and blasphemies. I began to push Chartersea -with all my might, and the wonder of it was that we did not fight with -our fingers on each other's necks. His attacks, too, redoubled. Twice I -felt the stings of his point, once in the hand, and once in the body, but -I minded them as little as pinpricks. I was sure I had touched him, too. -I heard him blowing distressedly. The casks of wine he had drunk in his -short life were telling now, and his thrusts grew weaker. That fiercest -of all joys--of killing an enemy--was in me, when I heard a cry that rang -in my ears for many a year afterward, and the thud of a body on the -ground. - -"I have done for him, your Grace," says Lewis, with an oath; and added -immediately, "I think I hear people." - -Before I had reached my Lord the captain repeated this, and excitedly -begged the duke, I believe, to fly. Chartersea hissed out that he would -not move a step until he had finished me, and as I bent over the body his -point popped through my coat, and the pain shot under my shoulder. I -staggered, and fell. A second of silence ensued, when the duke said with -a laugh that was a cackle: - -"He won't marry her, d--n him!" (panting). "He had me cursed near -killed, Lewis. Best give him another for luck." - -I felt his heavy hand on the sword, and it tearing out of me. Next came -the single word "Dover," and they were gone. I had not lost my senses, -and was on my knees again immediately, ripping open Comyn's waistcoat -with my left hand, and murmuring his name in an agony of sorrow. I was -searching under his shirt, wet with blood, when I became aware of voices -at my side. "A duel! A murder! Call the warders! Warders, ho!" - -"A surgeon!" I cried. "A surgeon first of all!" - -Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickering -in the wind, before his Lordship's face. Guided by its light, more -people came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns, -headed by Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my Lord -Carlisle. We carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed the -doors against the crowd. - -By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardens that -night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with the constable -and the watch. Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charles washed and -dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to our anxious -questions replied that there was a chance of recovery. - -"But you, too, are hurt, sir," he said, turning his clear eyes upon me. -Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during the whole -of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it. By great -good fortune Chartersea's thrust, which he thought had ended my life, -passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodged deep -in my right nipple. This wound the surgeon bound carefully, and likewise -two smaller ones. - -The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea. And so I was forced -to tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, going out -to the scene of the fight, discovered the duke's sword which he had -pulled out of me, and Lewis's laced hat; and also a trail of blood -leading from the spot. Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Chartersea -that night, and Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the duke bore -me. I was given my liberty. - -Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in Sir -Charles's coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him. 'Twas on the way -there that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard the -alarm--a piece of news which added to my anxiety. We called up the -dowager countess, Comyn's mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her, -mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame. Her Ladyship received -the tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent of -reproaches I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home and -care for my injuries lest I get the fever. I believe that I burst into -tears. - -His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan from -his lips, and his heart beating out slowly. - -We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying: "Past two o'clock, and -a windy morning!" - -Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night. And the next morning, save -for the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever. I -was again to thank the robustness of my health. Despite the protests of -Banks and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not having been -to bed at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street. There -I had the good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind. Comyn was -resting so much easier that the surgeon had left, and her Ladyship -retired two hours since. - -The day was misting and dark, but so vast was my relief that I imagined -the sun was out as I rattled toward Arlington Street. If only Dolly were -not ill again from the shock, I should be happy indeed. She must have -heard, ere then, that I was not killed; and I had still better news to -tell her than that of Lord Comyn's condition. Mr. Fox, who got every -rumour that ran, had shouted after me that the duke and Lewis were set -out for France. How he knew I had not waited to inquire. But the report -tallied with my own surmise, for they had used the word "Dover" when they -left us for dead in the Wilderness. - -I dismissed my chaise at the door. - -"Mr. Manners waits on you, sir, in the drawing-room," said the footman. -"Your honour is here sooner than he looked for," he added gratuitously. - -"Sooner than he looked for?" - -"Yes, sir. James is gone to you but quarter of an hour since with a -message, sir." - -I was puzzled. - -"And Miss Manners? Is she well?" - -The man smiled. - -"Very well, sir, thank your honour." - -To add to my surprise, Mr. Marmaduke was pacing the drawing-room in a -yellow night-gown. He met me with an expression I failed to fathom, and -then my eye was held by a letter in his hand. He cleared his throat. - -"Good morning, Richard," said he, very serious,--very pompous, I thought. -"I am pleased to see that you are so well out of the deplorable affair of -last night." - -I had not looked for gratitude. In truth, I had done nothing for him, -and Chartersea might have exposed him a highwayman for all I cared,--I -had fought for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about to -make a tart reply, and then thought better of it. - -"Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel," says he to the footman. -Then to me: "I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger." - -I merely stared at him. - -"Will you sit?" he continued. "To speak truth, the Annapolis packet -came in last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time -to hear from Maryland, I sent for you." - -My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning from -this introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him for -sending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leave my -bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair. - -"You have heard from Maryland?" I cried. "Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tell -me, is Mr. Carvel dead?" And I clutched his arm to make him wince. - -He nodded, and turned away. "My dear old friend is no more," he said. -"Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month." - -I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollections -overwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind. -One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, I had -missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton brought the -tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive his last -words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow. Who had -he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? The -imagination of that scene drove me mad. - -Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quickly -that I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I to -die to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it the -smile which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, there -was in it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act. - -"There is more, Richard," he was saying; "there is worse to come. Can -you bear it?" - -His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short of -temper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And now -all my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined his -meaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father. - -"Worse?" I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. "Do you mean that -Grafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?" - -"Yes," he gasped, "yes. I pray you be calm." - -"And you call that worse than losing my dearest friend on earth?" -I cried. There must have been an infinite scorn in my voice. "Then your -standards and mine are different, Mr. Manners. Your ways and mine are -different, and I thank God for it. You have played more than one double -part with me. You looked me in the face and denied me, and left me to go -to a prison. I shall not repeat my grandfather's kindnesses to you, sir. -Though you may not recall them, I do. And if your treatment of me was -known in Maryland, you would be drummed out of the colony even as Mr. -Hood was, and hung in effigy" - -"As God hears me, Richard--" - -"Do not add perjury to it," I said. "And have no uneasiness that I shall -publish you. Your wife and daughter have saved you before,--they will -save you now." - -I paused, struck speechless by a suspicion that suddenly flashed into my -head. A glance at the contemptible form cowering within the folds of the -flowered gown clinched it to a conviction. In two strides I had seized -him by the skin over his ribs, and he shrieked with pain and fright. - -"You--you snake!" I cried, in uncontrollable anger. "You well knew -Dorothy's spirit, which she has not got from you, and you lied to her. -Yes, lied, I say. To force her to marry Chartersea you made her believe -that your precious honour was in danger. And you lied to me last night, -and sent me in the dark to fight two of the most treacherous villains in -England. You wish they had killed me. The plot was between you and his -Grace. You, who have not a cat's courage, commit an indiscretion! You -never made one in your life, Tell me," I cried, shaking him until his -teeth smote together, "was it not put up between you?" - -"Let me go! Let me go, and I will tell!" he wailed in the agony of my -grip. I tightened it the more. - -"You shall confess it first," I said, from between my teeth. - -Scarce had his lips formed the word yes, when I had flung him half across -the room. He tripped on his gown, and fell sprawling on his hands. So -the servant found us when he came back with the tray. The lackey went -out again hastily. - -"My God!" I exclaimed, in bitterness and disgust; "you are a father, -and would sell both your daughter and your honour for a title, and to -the filthiest wretch in the kingdom?" - -Without bestowing upon him another look, I turned on my heel and left the -room. I had set my foot on the stair, when I heard the rustle of a -dress, and the low voice which I knew so well calling my name. - -"Richard." - -There at my side was Dorothy, even taller in her paleness, with sorrow -and agitation in her blue eyes. - -"Richard, I have heard all.--I listened. Are you going away without a -word for me?" Her breath came fast, and mine, as she laid a hand upon my -arm. "Richard, I do not care whether you are poor. What am I saying?" -she cried wildly. "Am I false to my own father? Richard, what have you -done?" - -And then, while I stood dazed, she tore open her gown, and drawing forth -a little gold locket, pressed it in my palm. "The flowers you gave me on -your birthday,--the lilies of the valley, do you remember? They are -here, Richard. I have worn them upon my heart ever since." - -I raised the locket to my lips. - -"I shall treasure it for your sake, Dorothy," I said, "for the sake of -the old days. God keep you!" - -For a moment I looked into the depths of her eyes. Then she was gone, -and I went down the stairs alone. Outside, the rain fell unheeded on my -new coat. My steps bent southward, past Whitehall, where the martyr -Charles had met death so nobly: past the stairs to the river, where she -had tripped with me so gayly not a month since. Death was in my soul -that day,--death and love, which is the mystery of life. God guided me -into the great Abbey near by, where I fell on my knees before Him and -before England's dead. He had raised them and cast them down, even as He -was casting me, that I might come to know the glory of His holy name. - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - -Volume 7. - - -XLII. My Friends are proven -XLIII. Annapolis once more -XLIV. Noblesse Oblige -XLV. The House of Memories -XLVI. Gordon's Pride -XLVII. Visitors -XLVIII. Multum in Parvo -XLIX. Liberty loses a Friend - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN - -At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with -indignation and fidgety from uneasiness. - -"O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?" he cried. "Your honour's -agent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o' -him, sir?" - -Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair Dolly -had chosen, smoking my tobacco. I stared at him from the threshold. -Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or both brought him to his -feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face. He put down the pipe -guiltily. I told him shortly that I had heard the news which he must -have got by the packet: and that he should have his money, tho' it took -the rest of my life: and the ten per cent I had promised him provided he -would not press my Lord Comyn. He hesitated, and drummed on the table. -He was the man of business again. - -"What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?" he asked. - -"My word," I said. "It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor my -father's before me. And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to say -that of Grafton." Truly I thought the principal and agent were now well -matched. - -"Very good, Mr. Carvel," he said; "ten per cent. I shall call with the -papers on Monday morning." - -"I shall not run away before that," I replied. - -He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customary -protestations of duty and humble offers of service. And I thanked Heaven -he had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not have -borne, but must have laid hands upon him. Perhaps he believed Grafton -not yet secure in his title. I did not wonder then, in the heat of my -youth, that he should have accepted my honour as security. But since I -have marvelled not a little at this. The fine gentlemen at Brooks's with -whom I had been associating were none too scrupulous, and regarded money- -lenders as legitimate prey. Debts of honour they paid but tardily, if at -all. A certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteen -thousand pounds for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won at -hazard. And tho' I blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious in -such matters, and was in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables of -which he was the devoted chief. - -The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would never -desert me. And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow's devotion -brought me no little comfort. At such times the heart is bitter. We -look askance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard for -those that remain true. I had a great affection for the man, and had -become so used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not the -courage to refuse his prayers to go with me to America. I had not a -farthing of my own--he would serve me for nothing--nay, work for me. -"Sure," he said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,--"Sure, your -honour was not made to work." To cheer me he went on with some foolish -footman's gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures who would -marry me, and be thankful. I smiled sadly. - -"That was when I was Mr. Carvel's heir, Banks." - -"And your face and figure, sir, and masterful ways! Faith, and what more -would a lady want!" Banks's notions of morality were vague enough, and he -would have had me sink what I had left at hazard at Almack's. He had -lived in this atmosphere. Alas! there was little chance of my ever -regaining the position I had held but yesterday. I thought of the -sponging-house, and my brow was moist. England was no place, in those -days, for fallen gentlemen. With us in the Colonies the law offered -itself. Mr. Swain, and other barristers of Annapolis, came to my mind, -for God had given me courage. I would try the law. For I had small -hopes of defeating my Uncle Grafton. - -The Sunday morning dawned brightly, and the church bells ringing brought -me to my feet, and out into Piccadilly, in the forlorn hope that I might -see my lady on her way to morning service,--see her for the last time in -life, perhaps. Her locket I wore over my heart. It had lain upon hers. -To see her was the most exquisite agony in the world. But not to see -her, and to feel that she was scarce quarter of a mile away, was beyond -endurance. I stood beside an area at the entrance to Arlington Street, -and waited for an hour, quite in vain; watching every face that passed, -townsmen in their ill-fitting Sunday clothes, and fine ladies with the -footmen carrying velvet prayerbooks. And some that I knew only stared, -and others gave me distant bows from their coach windows. For those that -fall from fashion are dead to fashion. - -Dorothy did not go to church that day. - -It is a pleasure, my dears, when writing of that hour of bitterness, to -record the moments of sweetness which lightened it. As I climbed up to -my rooms in Dover Street, I heard merry sounds above, and a cloud of -smoke blew out of the door when I opened it. - -"Here he is," cried Mr. Fox. "You see, Richard, we have not deserted you -when we can win no more of your money." - -"Why, egad! the man looks as if he had had a calamity," said Mr. -Fitzpatrick. - -"And there is not a Jew here," Fox continued. "Tho' it is Sunday, -the air in my Jerusalem chamber is as bad as in any crimps den in St. -Giles's. 'Slife, and I live to be forty, I shall have as many -underground avenues as his Majesty Louis the Eleventh." - -"He must have a place," put in my Lord Carlisle. - -"We must do something for him," said Fox, "albeit he is an American and a -Whig, and all the rest of the execrations. Thou wilt have to swallow thy -golden opinions, my buckskin, when we put thee in office." - -I was too overwhelmed even to protest. - -"You are not in such a cursed bad way, when all is said, - -"Richard," said Fitzpatrick. "Charles, when he loses a fortune, -immediately borrows another." - -"If you stick to whist and quinze," said Charles, solemnly, giving me the -advice they were forever thrusting upon him, "and play with system, you -may make as much as four thousand a year, sir." - -And this was how I was treated by those heathen and cynical macaronies, -Mr. Fox's friends. I may not say the same for the whole of Brooks's -Club, tho' I never darkened its doors afterwards. But I encountered my -Lord March that afternoon, and got only a blank stare in place of a bow. - -Charles had collected (Heaven knows how!) the thousand pounds which he -stood in my debt, and Mr. Storer and Lord Carlisle offered to lend me as -much as I chose. I had some difficulty in refusing, and more still in -denying Charles when he pressed me to go with them to Richmond, where he -had rooms for play over Sunday. - -Banks brought me the news that Lord Comyn was sitting up, and had been -asking for me that day; that he was recovering beyond belief. But I was -resolved not to go to Brook Street until the money affairs were settled -on Monday with Mr. Dix, for I knew well that his Lordship would insist -upon carrying out with the agent the contract he had so generously and -hastily made, rather than let me pay an abnormal interest. - -On Monday I rose early, and went out for a bit of air before the scene -with Mr. Dix. Returning, I saw a coach with his Lordship's arms on the -panels, and there was Comyn himself in my great chair at the window, -where he had been deposited by Banks and his footman. I stared as on one -risen from the dead. - -"Why, Jack, what are you doing here?" I cried. - -He replied very offhand, as was his manner at such times: - -"Blicke vows that Chartersea and Lewis have qualified for the College of -Surgeons," says he. "They are both born anatomists. Your job under the -arm was the worst bungle of the two, egad, for Lewis put his sword, pat -as you please, between two of my organs (cursed if I know their names), -and not so much as scratched one." - -"Look you, Jack," said I, "I am not deceived. You have no right to be -here, and you know it." - -"Tush!" answered his Lordship; "I am as well as you." And he took snuff -to prove the assertion. "Why the devil was you not in Brook Street -yesterday to tell me that your uncle had swindled you? I thought I was -your friend," says he, "and I learn of your misfortune through others." - -"It is because you are my friend, and my best friend, that I would not -worry you when you lay next door to death on my account," I said, with -emotion. - -And just then Banks announced Mr. Dix. - -"Let him wait," said I, greatly disturbed. - -"Show him up!" said my Lord, peremptorily. - -"No, no!" I protested; "he can wait. We shall have no business now." - -But Banks was gone. And I found out, long afterward, that it was put up -between them. - -The agent swaggered in with that easy assurance he assumed whenever he -got the upper hand. He was the would-be squire once again, in top-boots -and a frock. I have rarely seen a man put out of countenance so easily -as was Mr. Dix that morning when he met his Lordship's fixed gaze from -the arm-chair. - -"And so you are turned Jew?" says he, tapping his snuffbox. "Before -you go ahead so fast again, you will please to remember, d--n you, that -Mr. Carvel is the kind that does not lose his friends with his fortune." - -Mr. Dix made a salaam, which was so ludicrous in a squire that my Lord -roared with laughter, and I feared for his wound. - -"A man must live, my Lord," sputtered the agent. His discomfiture was -painful. - -"At the expense of another," says Comyn, dryly. "That is your motto in -Change Alley." - -"If you will permit, Jack, I must have a few words in private with Mr. -Dix," I cut in uneasily. - -His Lordship would be damned first. "I am not accustomed to be thwarted, -Richard, I tell you. Ask the dowager if I have not always had my way. -I am not going to stand by and see a man who saved my life fall into the -clutches of an usurer. Yes, I said usurer, Mr. Dix. My attorney, Mr. -Kennett, of Lincoln's Inn, has instructions to settle with you." - -And, despite all I could say, he would not budge an inch. At last I -submitted under the threat that he would never after have a word to say -to me. By good luck, when I had paid into Mr. Dix's hand the thousand -pounds I had received from Charles Fox, and cleared my outstanding bills, -the sum I remained in Comyn's debt was not greatly above seven hundred -pounds. And that was the end of Mr. Dix for me; when he had backed -himself out in chagrin at having lost his ten per centum, my feelings got -the better of me. The water rushed to my eyes, and I turned my back upon -his Lordship. To conceal his own emotions he fell to swearing like mad. - -"Fox will get you something," he said at length, when he was a little -calmed. - -I told him, sadly, that my duty took me to America. - -"And Dorothy?" he said; "you will leave her?" - -I related the whole miserable story (all save the part of the locket), -for I felt that I owed it him. His excitement grew as he listened, until -I had to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he saw -nothing but good to come of it. - -"'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!" he cried. "Give me your hand. -Why, you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. She -loves you! Did I not say so? And as for that intriguing little puppy, -her father, you have pulled his teeth, egad. She heard what you said to -him, you tell me. Then he will never deceive her again, my word on't. -And Chartersea may come back to London, and be damned." - - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -ANNAPOLIS ONCE MORE - -Three days after that I was at sea, in the Norfolk packet, with the -farewells of my loyal English friends ringing in my ears. Captain -Graham, the master of the packet, and his passengers found me but a poor -companion. But they had heard of my misfortune, and vied with each other -in heaping kindnesses upon me. Nor did they intrude on my walks in the -night watches, to see me slipping a locket from under my waistcoat--ay, -and raising it to my lips. 'Twas no doubt a blessing that I had lesser -misfortunes to share my attention. God had put me in the way of looking -forward rather than behind, and I was sure that my friends in Annapolis -would help me to an honest living, and fight my cause against Grafton. - -Banks was with me. The devoted soul did his best to cheer me, tho' -downcast himself at leaving England. To know what to do with him gave -me many an anxious moment. I doubted not that I could get him into a -service, but when I spoke of such a thing he burst into tears, and -demanded whether I meant to throw him off. Nor was any argument of mine -of use. - -After a fair and uneventful voyage of six weeks, I beheld again my native -shores in the low spits of the Virginia capes. The sand was very hot and -white, and the waters of the Chesapeake rolled like oil under the July -sun. We were all day getting over to Yorktown, the ship's destination. -A schooner was sailing for Annapolis early the next morning, and I barely -had time to get off my baggage and catch her. We went up the bay with a -fresh wind astern, which died down at night. - -The heat was terrific after England and the sea-voyage, and we slept on -the deck. And Banks sat, most of the day, exclaiming at the vast scale -on which this new country was laid out, and wondering at the myriad -islands we passed, some of them fair with grain and tobacco; and at the -low-lying shores clothed with forests, and broken by the salt marshes, -with now and then the manor-house of some gentleman-planter visible on -either side. Late on the second day I beheld again the cliffs that mark -the mouth of the Severn, then the sail-dotted roads and the roofs of -Annapolis. - -We landed, Banks and I, in a pinnace from the schooner, and so full was -my heart at the sight of the old objects that I could only gulp now and -then, and utter never a word. There was the dock where I had paced up -and down near the whole night, when Dolly had sailed away; and Pryse the -coachmaker's shop, and the little balcony upon which I had stood with my -grandfather, and railed in a boyish tenor at Mr. Hood. The sun cast -sharp, black shadows. And it being the middle of the dull season, when -the quality were at their seats, and the dinner-hour besides, the town -might have been a deserted one for its stillness, as tho' the inhabitants -had walked out of it, and left it so. I made my way, Banks behind me, -into Church Street, past the "Ship" tavern, which brought memories of -the brawl there, and of Captain Clapsaddle forcing the mob, like chaff, -before his sword. The bees were humming idly over the sweet-scented -gardens, and Farris, the clock-maker, sat at his door, and nodded. He -jerked his head as I went by with a cry of "Lord, it is Mr. Richard -back!" and I must needs pause, to let him bow over my hand. Farther up -the street I came to mine host of the Coffee House standing on his steps, -with his hands behind his back. - -"Mr. Claude," I said. - -He looked at me as tho' I had risen from the dead. - -"God save us!" he shouted, in a voice that echoed through the narrow -street. "God save us!" - -He seemed to go all to pieces. To my bated questions he replied at -length, when he had got his breath, that Captain Clapsaddle had come to -town but the day before, and was even then in the coffee-room at his -dinner. Alone? Yes, alone. Almost tottering, I mounted the steps, and -turned in at the coffee-room door, and stopped. There sat the captain at -a table, the roast and wine untouched before him, his waistcoat thrown -open. He was staring out of the open window into the inn garden beyond, -with its shade of cherry trees. Mr. Claude's cry had not disturbed his -reveries, nor our talk after it. I went forward. I touched him on the -shoulder, and he sprang up, and looked once into my face, and by some -trick of the mind uttered the very words Mr. Claude had used. - -"God save us! Richard!" And he opened his arms and strained me to his -great chest, calling my name again and again, while the tears coursed -down the furrows of his cheeks. For I marked the furrows for the first -time, and the wrinkles settling in his forehead and around his eyes. -What he said when he released me, nor my replies, can I remember now, -but at last he called, in his ringing voice, to mine host: - -"A bottle from your choicest bin, Claude! Some of Mr. Bordley's. -For he that was lost is found." - -The hundred questions I had longed to ask were forgotten. A peace stole -upon me that I had not felt since I had looked upon his face before. The -wine was brought by Mr. Claude, and opened, and it was mine host who -broke the silence, and the spell. - -"Your very good health, Mr. Richard," he said; "and may you come to your -own again!" - -"I drink it with all my heart, Richard," replied Captain Daniel. But he -glanced at me sadly, and his honest nature could put no hope into his -tone. "We have got him back again, Mr. Claude. And God has answered our -prayers. So let us be thankful." And he sat down in silence, gazing at -me in pity and tenderness, while Mr. Claude withdrew. "I can give you -but a sad welcome home, my lad," he said presently, with a hesitation -strange to him. "'Tis not the first bad news I have had to break in my -life to your family, but I pray it may be the last." He paused. I knew -he was thinking of the black tidings he had once brought my mother. -"Richard, your grandfather is dead," he ended abruptly. - -I nodded wonderingly. - -"What!" he exclaimed; "you have heard already?" - -"Mr. Manners told me, in London," I said, completely mystified. - -"London!" he cried, starting forward. "London and Mr. Manners! Have you -been to London?" - -"You had my letters to Mr. Carvel?" I demanded, turning suddenly sick. - -His eye flashed. - -"Never a letter. We mourned you for dead, Richard. This is Grafton's -work!" he cried, springing to his feet and striking the table with his -great fist, so that the dishes jumped. "Grafton Carvel, the prettiest -villain in these thirteen colonies! Oh, we shall hang him some day." - -"Then Mr. Carvel died without knowing that I was safe?" I interrupted. - -"On that I'll lay all my worldly goods," replied Captain Daniel, -emphatically. "If any letters came to Marlboro' Street from you, Mr. -Carvel never dropped eyes on 'em." - -"What a fool was I not to have written you!" I groaned. - -He drew his chair around the table, and close to mine. - -"Had the news that you escaped death been cried aloud in the streets, my -lad, 'twould never have got to your grandfather's ear," he said, in lower -tones. "I will tell you what happened, tho' I have it at second hand, -being in the North, as you may remember. Grafton came in from Kent and -invested Marlboro' Street. He himself broke the news to Mr. Carvel, who -took to his bed. Leiden was not in attendance, you may be sure, but that -quack-doctor Drake. Swain sent me a message, and I killed a horse -getting here from New York. But I could no more gain admittance to your -grandfather, Richard, than to King George the Third. I was met in the -hall by that crocodile, who told me with too many fair words that I -could not see my old friend; that for the present Dr. Drake denied him -everybody. Then I damned Dr. Drake, and Grafton too. And I let him know -my suspicions. He ordered me off, Richard--from that house which has -been my only home for these twenty years." His voice broke. - -"Mr. Carvel thought me dead, then." - -"And most mercifully. Your black Hugo, when he was somewhat recovered, -swore he had seen you killed and carried off. Sooth, they say there was -blood enough on the place. But we spared no pains to obtain a clew of -you. I went north to Boston, and Lloyd's factor south to Charleston. -But no trace of the messenger who came to the Coffee House after you -could we find. Hell had opened and swallowed him. And mark this for -consummate villany: Grafton himself spent no less than five hundred -pounds in advertising and the like." - -"And he is not suspected?" I asked. This was the same question I had put -to Mrs. Manners. It caused the captain to flare up again. - -"'Tis incredible how a rogue may impose upon men of worth and integrity -if he but know how to smirk piously, and never miss a service. And then -he is an exceeding rich man. Riches cover a multitude of sins in the -most virtuous community in the world. Your Aunt Caroline brought him a -pretty fortune, you know. We had ominous times this spring, with the -associations forming, and the 'Good Intent' and the rest being sent back -to England. His Excellency was at his wits' end for support. It was -Grafton Carvel who helped him most, and spent money like tobacco for the -King's cause, which, being interpreted, was for his own advancement. But -I believe Colonel Lloyd suspects him, tho' he has never said as much to -me. I have told Mr. Swain, under secrecy, what I think. He is one of -the ablest lawyers that the colony owns, Richard, and a stanch friend of -yours. He took your case of his own accord. But he says we have no -foothold as yet." - -When I asked if there was a will the captain rapped out an oath. - -"'Sdeath! yes," he cried, "a will in favour of Grafton and his heirs, -witnessed by Dr. Drake, they say, and another scoundrel. Your name does -not occur throughout the length and breadth of it. You were dead. But -you will have to ask Mr. Swain for those particulars. My dear old friend -was sadly gone when he wrote it, I fear. For he never lacked shrewdness -in his best days. Nor," added Captain Daniel, with force, "nor did he -want for a proper estimation of Grafton." - -"He has never been the same since that first sickness," I answered sadly. - -When the captain came to speak of Mr. Carvel's death, the son and -daughter he loved, and the child of his old age in the grave before him, -he proceeded brokenly, and the tears blinded him. Mr. Carvel's last -words will never be known, my dears. They sounded in the unfeeling ears -of the serpent Grafton. 'Twas said that he was seen coming out of his -father's house an hour after the demise, a smile on his face which he -strove to hide with a pucker of sorrow. But by God's grace Mr. Allen had -not read the prayers. The rector was at last removed from Annapolis, and -had obtained the fat living of Frederick which he coveted. - -"As I hope for salvation," the captain concluded, "I will swear there is -not such another villain in the world as Grafton. The imagination of a -fiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime he -has committed. And the Borgias were children to him. 'Twas not only the -love of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father. That -was his strongest motive, I believe. However, the days are coming, lad, -when he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail. And we have had -enough of sober talk," said he, pressing me to eat. "Faith, but just -now, when you came in, I was thinking of you, Richard. And--God forgive -me! complaining against the lot of my life. And thinking, now that you -were taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone, -how little I had to live for. Now you are home again," says he, his eyes -lighting on me with affection, "I count the gray hairs as nothing. Let -us have your story, and be merry. Nay, I might have guessed you had been -in London, with your fine clothes and your English servant." - -'Twas a long story, as you know, my dears. He lighted his pipe and laid -his big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of that -which had happened to me. But I left out the whole of that concerning -Mr. Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of the sponging- -house. I believe my only motive for this omittance was a reluctance to -dwell upon Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father for her sake. He -dropped many a vigorous exclamation into my pauses, but when I came to -speak of my friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow clouded over. - -"'Ad's heart!" he cried, "'Ad's heart! And so you are turned Tory, and -have at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved you -most. In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you, -Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice." - -I laughed aloud. - -"And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton, -and Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship's seat?" -said I. - -His honest face was a picture of consternation. - -"Now the good Lord deliver us!" he exclaimed fervently. "Sandwich! -Grafton! The devil!" - -I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I had -heard of Mr. Carvel's death. - -"And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune," I went on, "he -offered me a position under Government." - -"Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?" he said, -his face getting purple. "Are you Jack Carvel's son, or are you an -impostor?" - -"I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am here," -I replied. "I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might have -converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently long," -I added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, I related how -I had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat he gave a great, -joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back. - -"You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!" And he called to Mr. Claude for -another bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association. -He peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. -Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? "I would not doubt -a Carvel's word," says the captain, "(always excepting Grafton and his -line, as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend why -Mr. Fox and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion as -you--and after the speech you made 'em." - -I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friends -cared a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my frankness -had entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste for -a bit of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant, -easy nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set, -without aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between the -shoulders. - -"It was so with Jack," he cried; "thou art a replica. He would have made -friends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest of -us Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out of -England, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight with -Jack, tho' he gave them ample provocation. There was Tetherington, of -the 22d foot,--who jeered us for damned provincials, and swaggered -through three duels in a week,--would enter no quarrel with him. I can -hear him say: 'Damn you, Carvel, you may slap my face and you will, or -walk in ahead of me at the general's dinner and you will, but I like you -too well to draw at you. I would not miss your company at table for all -the world.' And when he was killed," Captain Daniel continued, lowering -his voice, "some of them cried like women, Tetherington among 'em,--and -swore they would rather have lost their commissions at high play." - -We sat talking until the summer's dusk grew on apace, and one thing this -devoted lover of my family told me, which lightened my spirits of the -greatest burden that had rested upon them since my calamity befell me. -I had dwelt at length upon my Lord Comyn, and upon the weight of his -services to me, and touched upon the sum which I stood in his debt. The -captain interrupted me. - -"One day, before your mother died, she sent for me," said he, "and I came -to Carvel Hall. You were too young to remember. It was in September, -and she was sitting on the seat under the oak she loved so well,--by Dr. -Hilliard's study. - -"The lace shawl your father had given her was around her shoulders, and -upon her face was the smile that gave me a pang to see. For it had -something of heaven in it, Richard. She called me 'Daniel' then for the -second time in her life. She bade me be seated beside her. 'Daniel,' -she said, 'when I am gone, and father is gone, it is you who will take -care of Richard. I sometimes believe all may not be well then, and that -he will need you.' I knew she was thinking of Grafton," said the -captain. "'I have a little money of my own, Daniel, which I have saved -lately with this in view. I give it into your charge, and if trouble -comes to him, my old friend, you will use it as you see fit.' - -"It was a bit under a thousand pounds, Richard. And when she died I put -it out under Mr. Carroll's direction at safe interest. So that you have -enough to discharge your debt, and something saved against another -emergency." - -He fell silent, sunk into one of those reveries which the memory of my -mother awoke in him. My own thoughts drifted across the sea. I was -again at the top of the stairs in Arlington Street, and feeling the -dearest presence in the world. The pale oval of Dorothy's face rose -before me and the troubled depths of her blue eyes. And I heard once -more the tremble in her voice as she confessed, in words of which she -took no heed, that love for which I had sought in vain. - -The summer dusk was gathering. Outside, under the cherry trees, I saw -Banks holding forth to an admiring circle of negro 'ostlers. And -presently Mr. Claude came in to say that Shaw, the town carpenter, and -Sol Mogg, the ancient sexton of St. Anne's, and several more of my old -acquaintances were without, and begged the honour of greeting me. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -NOBLESSE OBLIGE - -I lay that night in Captain Clapsaddle's lodgings opposite, and slept -soundly. Banks was on hand in the morning to assist at my toilet, and -was greatly downcast when I refused him this privilege, for the first -time. Captain Daniel was highly pleased with the honest fellow's -devotion in following me to America. To cheer him he began to question -him as to my doings in London, and the first thing of which Banks must -tell was of the riding-contest in Hyde Park, which I had omitted. It is -easy to imagine how this should have tickled the captain, who always had -my horsemanship at heart; and when it came to Chartersea's descent into -the Serpentine, I thought he would go into apoplexy. For he had put on -flesh with the years. - -The news of my return had spread all over town, so that I had a deal more -handshaking to do when we went to the Coffee House for breakfast. All -the quality were in the country, of course, save only four gentlemen of -the local Patriots' committee, of which Captain Daniel was a member, and -with whom he had an appointment at ten. It was Mr. Swain who arrived -first of the four. - -This old friend of my childhood was a quiet man (I may not have -specified), thin, and a little under stature, with a receding but -thoughtful forehead. But he could express as much of joy and welcome in -his face and manner as could Captain Daniel with his heartier ways. - -"It does me good to see you, lad," he said, pressing my hand. "I heard -you were home, and sent off an express to Patty and the mother last -night." - -"And are they not here?" I asked, with disappointment. - -Mr. Swain smiled. - -"I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little -plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton's. It will be my ruin," he -added. "A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions." - -"A little plantation!" echoed the captain. "'Od's life, he has bought -one of his Lordship's own manors--as good an estate as there is in the -province." - -"You overdo it, Daniel," said he, reprovingly. - -At that moment there was a stir in the doorway, and in came Mr. Carroll, -the barrister, and Mr. Bordley and Colonel Lloyd. These gentlemen gave -me such a welcome as those warm-hearted planters and lawyers knew how to -bestow. - -"What, he!" cried Mr. Lloyd, "I'm stamped and taxed if it isn't young -Richard Carvel himself. Well," says he, "I know one who will sleep -easier o' nights now,--one Clapsaddle. The gray hairs are forgot, -Daniel. We had more to-do over your disappearance than when Mr. -Worthington lost his musical nigger. Where a deuce have you been, sir?" - -"He shall tell us when we come back," said Mr. Bordley. "He has brought -our worthy association to a standstill once, and now we must proceed -about our business. Will you come, Richard? I believe you have proved -yourself a sufficiently good patriot, and in this very house." - -We went down Church Street, I walking behind with Colonel Lloyd, and so -proud to be in such company that I cared not a groat whether Grafton had -my acres or not. I remembered that the committee all wore plain and -sober clothes, and carried no swords. Mr. Swain alone had a wig. I had -been away but seven months, and yet here was a perceptible change. In -these dignified and determined gentlemen England had more to fear than in -all the mobs at Mr. Wilkes's back. How I wished that Charles Fox might -have been with me. - -The sun beat down upon the street. The shopkeepers were gathered at -their doors, but their chattering was hushed as the dreaded committee -passed. More than one, apparently, had tasted of its discipline. -Colonel Lloyd whispered to me to keep my countenance, that they were -not after very large game that morning,--only Chipchase, the butcher. -And presently we came upon the rascal putting up his shutters in much -precipitation, although it was noon. He had shed his blood-stained smock -and breeches, and donned his Sunday best,--a white, thick-set coat, -country cloth jacket, blue broadcloth breeches, and white shirt. A -grizzled cut wig sat somewhat awry under his bearskin hat. When he -perceived Mr. Carroll at his shoulder, he dropped his shutter against the -wall, and began bowing frantically. - -"You keep good hours, Master Chipchase," remarked Colonel Lloyd. - -"And lose good customers," Mr. Swain added laconically. - -The butcher wriggled. - -"Your honours must know there be little selling when the gentry be out of -town. And I was to take a holiday to-day, to see my daughter married." - -"You will have a feast, my good man?" Captain Daniel asked. - -"To be sure, your honour, a feast." - -"And any little ewe-lambs?" says Mr. Bordley, very innocent. - -Master Chipchase turned the colour of his meat, and his wit failed him. - -"'Fourthly,'" recited Mr. Carroll, with an exceeding sober face, -"'Fourthly, that we will not kill, or suffer to be killed, or sell, or -dispose to any person whom we have reason to believe intends to kill, any -ewe-lamb that shall be weaned before the first day of May, in any year -during the time aforesaid.' Have you ever heard anything of that sound, -Mr. Chipchase?" - -Mr. Chipchase had. And if their honours pleased, he had a defence to -make, if their honours would but listen. And if their honours but knew, -he was as good a patriot as any in the province, and sold his wool to -Peter Psalter, and he wore the homespun in winter. Then Mr. Carroll drew -a paper from his pocket, and began to read: "Mr. Thomas Hincks, -personally known to me, deposeth and saith,--" - -Master Chipchase's knees gave from under him. - -"And your honours please," he cried piteously, "I killed the lamb, but -'twas at Mr. Grafton Carvel's order, who was in town with his -Excellency." (Here Mr. Swain and the captain glanced significantly at -me.) "And I lose Mr. Carvel's custom, there is twelve pounds odd gone -a year, your honours. And I am a poor man, sirs." - -"Who is it owns your shop, my man?" asks Mr. Bordley, very sternly. - -"Oh, I beg your honours will not have me put out--" - -The wailing of his voice had drawn a crowd of idlers and brother -shopkeepers, who seemed vastly to enjoy the knave's discomfiture. -Amongst them I recognized my old acquaintance, Weld, now a rival -butcher. He pushed forward boldly. - -"And your honours please," said he, "he has sold lamb to half the Tory -gentry in Annapolis." - -"A lie!" cried Chipchase; "a lie, as God hears me!" - -Now Captain Clapsaddle was one who carried his loves and his hatreds to -the grave, and he had never liked Weld since the day, six years gone by, -he had sent me into the Ship tavern. And when Weld heard the captain's -voice he slunk away without a word. - -"Have a care, Master Weld," says he, in a quiet tone that boded no good; -"there is more evidence against you than you will like." - -Master Chipchase, after being frightened almost out of his senses, was -pardoned this once by Captain Daniel's influence. We went thence to Mr. -Hildreth's shop; he was suspected of having got tea out of a South River -snow; then to Mr. Jackson's; and so on. 'Twas after two when we got back -to the Coffee House, and sat down to as good a dinner as Mr. Claude could -prepare. "And now," cried Colonel Lloyd, "we shall have your adventures, -Richard. I would that your uncle were here to listen to them," he added -dryly. - -I recited them very much as I had done the night before, and I warrant -you, my dears, that they listened with more zest and eagerness than did -Mr. Walpole. But they were all shrewd men, and kept their suspicions, -if they had any, to themselves. Captain Daniel would have me omit -nothing,--my intimacy with Mr. Fox, the speech at Brooks's Club, -and the riding-match at Hyde Park. - -"What say you to that, gentlemen?" he cried. "Egad, I'll be sworn he -deserves credit,--an arrant young spark out of the Colonies, scarce -turned nineteen, defeating a duke of the realm on horseback, and -preaching the gospel of 'no taxation' at Brooks's Club! Nor the favour -of Sandwich or March could turn him from his principles." - -Modesty, my dears, does not permit me to picture the enthusiasm of these -good gentlemen, who bore the responsibility of the colony of Maryland -upon their shoulders. They made more of me than I deserved. In vain did -I seek to explain that if a young man was but well-born, and had a full -purse and a turn for high play, his principles might go hang, for all -Mr. Fox cared. Colonel Lloyd commanded that the famous rose punch-bowl -be filled to the brim with Mr. Claude's best summer brew, and they drank -my health and my grandfather's memory. It mattered little to them that -I was poor. They vowed I should not lose by my choice. Mr. Bordley -offered me a home, and added that I should have employment enough in the -days to come. Mr. Carroll pressed me likewise. And big-hearted Colonel -Lloyd desired to send me to King's College, as was my grandfather's wish, -where Will Fotheringay and my cousin Philip had been for a term. I might -make a barrister of myself. Mr. Swain alone was silent and thoughtful, -but I did not for an instant doubt that he would have done as much for -me. - -Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions -concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his Majesty -and Parliament. I say without vanity that I was able to enlighten them -not a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the set into which -I had fallen in London than if I had become the confidant of Rockingham -himself. America was a long way from England in those days. I regretted -that I had not arrived in London in time to witness Lord Chatham's -dramatic return to politics in January, when he had completed the work -of Junius, and broken up the Grafton ministry. But I told them of the -debate I had heard in St. Stephen's, and made them laugh over Mr. Fox's -rescue of the King's friends, and the hustling of Mr. Burke from the -Lords. - -They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much -ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with -him. They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a -bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr. -Courtenay's letter had stated. I replied that it was so. I did not add -that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine. -Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall. I made no doubt these things -would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell -them. Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I -would come with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say to -me. We went the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him for -avoiding Marlboro' Street, which must needs bring me painful -recollections. He said little on the way. - -I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered -porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely -empty without her. Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for us -under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree. The air was -still, and heavy with the flowers' scent, and the sun was dipping behind -the low eaves of the house. It was so natural to be there that I scarce -realized all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the -picket fence. Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it -and over the wall to Marlboro' Street. Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts. - -"Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will, -Richard," he began abruptly. "Altho' we thought never to see you again, -we have hoped against hope. I fear you have little chance for your -property, my lad." - -I replied that Captain Daniel had so led me to believe, and thanked him -for his kindness and his trouble. - -"'Twas no trouble," he replied quickly. "Indeed, I wish it might have -been. I shall always think of your grandfather with reverence and with -sorrow. He was a noble man, and was a friend to me, in spite of my -politics, when other gentlemen of position would not invite me to their -houses. It would be the greatest happiness of my life if I could restore -his property to you, where he would have had it go, and deprive that -villain, your uncle, of the fruits of his crime." - -"Then there is nothing to be got by contesting the will?" I asked. - -He shook his head soberly. - -"I fear not at present," said he, "nor can I with honesty hold out any -hope to you, Richard. Your uncle, by reason of his wealth, is a man of -undue influence with the powers of the colony. Even if he were not so, I -doubt greatly whether we should be the gainers. The will is undoubtedly -genuine. Mr. Carvel thought you dead, and we cannot prove undue -influence by Grafton unless we also prove that it was he who caused -your abduction. Do you think you can prove that?" - -"There is one witness," I exclaimed, "who overheard my uncle and Mr. -Allen talking of South River and Griggs, the master of the slaver, -in the stables at Carvel Hall." - -"And who is that?" demanded Mr. Swain, with more excitement than I -believed him capable of. - -"Old Harvey." - -Your grandfather's coachman? Alas, he died the day after Mr. Carvel, and -was buried the same afternoon. Have you spoken of this?" - -"Not to a soul," said I. - -"Then I would not. You will have to be very careful and say nothing, -Richard. Let me hear what other reasons you have for believing that your -uncle tried to do away with you." - -I told him, lucidly as possible, everything I have related in these -pages, and the admission of Griggs. He listened intently, shaking his -head now and then, but not a word out of him. - -"No," he said at length, "nothing is there which will be admitted, but -enough to damn him if you yourself might be a witness. I will give you -the law, briefly: descendible estates among us are of two kinds, estates -in fee simple and estates in fee tail. Had your grandfather died without -a will, his estate, which we suppose to be in fee simple, would have -descended to you as the son of his eldest son, according to the fourth of -the canons of descent in Blackstone. But with us fee simple estates are -devisable, and Mr. Carvel was wholly within his right in cutting off the -line of his eldest son. Do you follow me?" - -I nodded. - -"There is one chance," he continued, "and that is a very slim one. -I said that Mr. Carvel's estate was supposed to be in fee simple. -Estates tail are not devisable. Our system of registration is far from -infallible, and sometimes an old family settlement turns up to prove that -a property which has been willed out of the direct line, as in fee -simple, is in reality entailed. Is there a possibility of any such -document?" - -I replied that I did not know. My grandfather had never brought up the -subject. - -"We must bend our efforts in that direction," said the barrister. -"I shall have my clerks make a systematic search." - -He ceased talking, and sat sipping his sangaree in the abstracted manner -common to him. I took the opportunity to ask about his family, thinking -about what Dolly had said of Patty's illness. - -"The mother is as well as can be expected, Richard, and Patty very rosy -with the country air. Your disappearance was a great shock to them -both." - -"And Tom?" - -He went behind his reserve. "Tom is a d--d rake," he exclaimed, with -some vehemence. "I have given him over. He has taken up with that -macaroni Courtenay, who wins his money,--or rather my money,--and your -cousin Philip, when he is home from King's College. How Tom can be son -of mine is beyond me, in faith. I see him about once in two months, when -he comes here with a bill for his satins and his ruffles, and along face -of repentance, and a lot of gaming debts to involve my honour. And that -reminds me, Richard," said he, looking straight at me with his clear, -dark eyes: "have you made any plans for your future?" - -I ventured to ask his advice as to entering the law. - -"As the only profession open to a gentleman," he replied, smiling a -little. "No, you were no more cut out for an attorney, or a barrister, -or a judge, than was I for a macaroni doctor. The time is not far away, -my lad," he went on, seeing my shame and confusion, "when an American may -amass money in any way he chooses, and still be a gentleman, behind a -counter, if he will." - -"I do not fear work, Mr. Swain," I remarked, with some pride. - -"That is what I have been thinking," he said shortly. "And I am not a -man to make up my mind while you count three, Richard. I have the place -in Talbot, and no one to look after it. And--and in short I think you -are the man." - -He paused to watch the effect of this upon me. But I was so taken aback -by this new act of kindness that I could not say a word. - -"Tom is fast going to the devil, as I told you," he continued. "He -cannot be trusted. If I die, that estate shall be Patty's, and he may -never squander it. Captain Daniel tells me, and Mr. Bordley also, that -you managed at Carvel Hall with sense and ability. I know you are very -young, but I think I may rely upon you." - -Again he hesitated, eying me fixedly. - -"Ah," said he, with his quiet smile, "it is the old noblesse oblige. How -many careers has it ruined since the world began!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - -THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES - -I was greatly touched, and made Mr. Swain many awkward acknowledgments, -which he mercifully cut short. I asked him for a while to think over his -offer. This seemed to please rather than displease him. And my first -impulse on reaching the inn was to ask the captain's advice. I thought -better of it however, and at length resolved to thrash out the matter for -myself. - -The next morning, as I sat reflecting, an overwhelming desire seized me -to go to Marlboro' Street. Hitherto I could not have borne the sight of -the old place. I gulped down my emotion as the gate creaked behind me, -and made my way slowly to the white seat under the big chestnut behind -the house, where my grandfather had been wont to sit reading his prints, -in the warm weather. The flowers and the hedges had grown to a certain -wildness; and the smell of the American roses carried me back-as odours -will-to long-forgotten and trivial scenes. Here I had been caned many a -day for Mr. Daaken's reports, and for earlier offences. And I recalled -my mother as she once ran out at the sound of my cries to beg me off. So -vivid was that picture that I could hear Mr. Carvel say: "He is yours, -madam, not mine. Take him!" - -I started up. The house was still, the sun blistering the green paint of -the shutters. My eye was caught by those on the room that had been hers, -and which, by my grandfather's decree, had lain closed since she left it. -The image of it grew in my mind: the mahogany bed with its poppy -counterpane and creamy curtains, and the steps at the side by which she -was wont to enter it; and the 'prie-dieu', whence her soul had been -lifted up to God. And the dresser with her china and silver upon it, -covered by years of dust. For I had once stolen the key from Willis's -bunch, crept in, and crept out again, awed. That chamber would be -profaned, now, and those dear ornaments, which were mine, violated. -The imagination choked me. - -I would have them. I must. Nothing easier than to pry open a door or -window in the north wing, by the ball-room. When I saw Grafton I would -tell him. Nay, I would write him that day. I was even casting about me -for an implement, when I heard a step on the gravel beside me. - -I swung around, and came face to face with my uncle. - -He must have perceived me. And after the first shock of my surprise had -passed, I remarked a bearing on him that I had not seen before. He was -master of the situation at last,--so it read. The realization gave him -an easier speech than ever. - -"I thought I might find you here, Richard," he said, "since you were not -at the Coffee House." - -He did not offer me his hand. I could only stare at him, for I had -expected anything but this. - -"I came from Carvel Hall to get you," he proceeded smoothly enough. -"I heard but yesterday of your return, and some of your miraculous -adventures. Your recklessness has caused us many a trying day, Richard, -and I believe killed your grandfather. You have paid dearly, and have -made us pay dearly, for your mad frolic of fighting cut-throats on the -highroad." - -The wonder was that I did not kill him on the spot. I cannot think what -possessed the man,--he must have known me better. - -"My recklessness!" I shouted, fairly hoarse with anger. I paid no heed -to Mr. Swain's warning. "You d--d scoundrel!" I cried, "it was you -killed him, and you know it. When you had put me out of the way and he -was in your power, you tortured him to death. You forced him to die -alone with your sneering face, while your shrew of a wife counted cards -downstairs. Grafton Carvel, God knows you better than I, who know you -two well. And He will punish you as sure as the crack of doom." - -He heard me through, giving back as I came forward, his face blanching -only a little, and wearing all the time that yellow smile which so fitted -it. - -"You have finished?" says he. - -"Ay, I have finished. And now you may order me from this ground you have -robbed me of. But there are some things in that house you shall not -steal, for they are mine despite you." - -"Name them, Richard," he said, very sorrowful. - -"The articles in my mother's room, which were hers." - -"You shall have them this day," he answered. - -It was his way never to lose his temper, tho' he were called by the -vilest name in the language. He must always assume this pious grief -which made me long to throttle him. He had the best of me, even now, -as he took the great key from his pocket. - -"Will you look at them before you go?" he asked. - -At first I was for refusing. Then I nodded. He led the way silently -around by the front; and after he had turned the lock he stepped aside -with a bow to let me pass in ahead of him. Once more I was in the -familiar hall with the stairs dividing at the back. It was cool after -the heat, and musty, and a touch of death hung in the prisoned air. We -paused for a moment on the landing, beside the high, triple-arched window -which the branches tapped on windy winter days, while Grafton took down -the bunch of keys from beside the clock. I thought of my dear -grandfather winding it every Sunday, and his ruddy face and large figure -as he stood glancing sidewise down at me. Then the sound of Grafton's -feet upon the bare steps recalled the present. - -We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the -ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open -the window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not -foreign to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when -at last it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the ray -of sunlight from the window. I entered reverently. I took only the -silverbound prayer-book, cast a lingering look at the old familiar -objects dimly defined, and came out and locked the door again. I said -very quietly that I would send for the things that afternoon, for my -anger was hushed by what I had seen. - -We halted together on the uncovered porch in front of the house, that had -a seat set on each side of it. Marlboro' Street was still, the wide -trees which flanked it spreading their shade over walk and roadway. Not -a soul was abroad in the midday heat, and the windows of the long house -opposite were sightless. - -"Richard," said my uncle, staring ahead of him, "I came to offer you a -home, and you insult me brutally, as you have done unreproved all your -life. And yet no one shall say of me that I shirk my duty. But first -I must ask you if there is aught else you desire of me." - -"The black boy, Hugo, is mine," I said. I had no great love for Hugo, -save for association's sake, and I had one too many servants as it was; -but to rescue one slave from Grafton's clutches was charity. - -"You shall have him," he replied, "and your chaise, and your wardrobe, -and your horses, and whatever else I have that belongs to you. As I was -saying, I will not shirk my duty. The memory of my dear father, and of -what he would have wished, will not permit me to let you go a-begging. -You shall be provided for out of the estate, despite what you have said -and done." - -This was surely the quintessence of a rogue's imagination. Instinctively -I shrank from him. With a show of piety that 'turned me sick he -continued: - -"Let God witness that I carry out my father's will!" - -"Stop there, Grafton Carvel!" I cried; "you shall not take His name in -vain. Under this guise of holiness you and your accomplice have done the -devil's own work, and the devil will reward you." - -This reference to Mr. Allen, I believe, frightened him. For a second -only did he show it. - -"My--my accomplice, sir!" he stammered. And then righting himself: -"You will have to explain this, by Heaven." - -"In ample time your plot shall be laid bare, and you and his Reverence -shall hang, or lie in chains." - -"You threaten, Mr. Carvel?" he shouted, nearly stepping off the porch in -his excitement. - -"Nay, I predict," I replied calmly. And I went down the steps and out of -the gate, he looking after me. Before I had turned the corner of -Freshwater Lane, he was in the seat, and fanning himself with his hat. - -I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the -good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between -the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard -of my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son (for -the fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no more -help flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or -Cynthia his back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my -recital, when Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker, -which caused Mr. Swain to let out a whistle of surprise. - -"So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel," said he. "I thought so." - -Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put -his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man -was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to -talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which -he enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of Mr. -Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate -lying in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less -of arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the -indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard -Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare -of his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his -obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the -acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing -forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel. -This condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not -understand a word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in -English. His quiet laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger, -who had before been sufficiently ill at ease in the presence of the -great lawyer. Mr. Tucker blew his nose loudly to hide his confusion. - -"And what say you, Richard?" said Mr. Swain, without a shade of accent in -his voice. - -I bowed my head. I knew that the honest barrister had read my heart -when he spoke of noblesse oblige. That senseless pride of cast, so deep- -rooted in those born in our province, had made itself felt. To be a -factor (so I thought, for I was young) was to renounce my birth. Until -that moment of travail the doctrine of equality had seemed very pretty -to me. Your fine gentleman may talk as nobly as he pleases over his -Madeira, and yet would patronize Monsieur Rousseau if he met him; and he -takes never a thought of those who knuckle to him every day, and clean -his boots and collect his rents. But when he is tried in the fire, and -told suddenly to collect some one else's rents and curse another's -negroes, he is fainthearted for the experiment. So it was with me when -I had to meet the issue. I might take Grafton's offer, and the chance -to marry Dorothy was come again. For by industry the owner of the Kent -lands would become rich. - -The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies. When I -looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me. - -"You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer," I said. - -He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble -servitude bowed himself out. - -The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands. - -"What said I, Henry?" he cried. "Did I not know the lad?" - -Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat. He was still gazing at me with a -curious expression. And then I saw the world in truer colour. This good -Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for my -rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and -obscurity. I stood, humbled before him. - -"I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain," I said, vainly trying to -steady my voice, "but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed me -here from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my -uncle. I will make over the black to you and you will have him." - -He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm. -"You and the captain dine with me to-day," says he. "And as for Banks, I -think that can be arranged. Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained -butler, egad. I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard. -But we'll be off for Cordon's Pride in the morning, and I know of one -little girl will be glad to see us." - -We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street. And the captain -argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker's visit betrayed a weak point in -Grafton's position. But the barrister shook his head and said that -Grafton was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared me. -It was Mr. Swain's opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put himself -in a good light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little revenge mixed -therein, as the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had given him when he -cast him off. - -A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain -and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next -morning. We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on -the soil of my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past -Master Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for it -is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and Wilmot -House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the horse's -neck, so that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of comment -when I overtook him again. - -'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected at -the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly -wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt. -He drew up, and glanced at me. - -"You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these," -said he. "The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than -husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a -rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore -gentlemen, especially in Dorchester," he added; "they get to be -fishmongers." - -Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in -Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That -day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered -about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and -youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood -immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves -rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse -and took her hands. - -"So you like my surprise, girl?" said her father, as he kissed her -blushing face. - -For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad -porch in front. - -"Our barrister is come, mother," we heard her exclaiming, "and whom do -you think he has brought?" - -"Is it Richard?" asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual. - -I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She -was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me -toward her, kissing me on both cheeks. - -"I thank God for His goodness," said she. - -"And the boy has come to stay, mother," said her husband, as he stooped -over her. - -"To stay!" cries Patty. - -"Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home," replied the barrister. "And now -I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will -be well looked after." - -Patty gasped. - -"Oh, I am so glad!" said she, "I could almost rejoice that his uncle -cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?" - -"He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear," says her father, smiling -and tilting her chin; "we shall have no such persons as factors here." - -At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, and -then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, Percy -Singleton. - -"May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard," said he, in his manly way; "and -rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?" - -"Thank you, Percy," I answered. I was not in a state to say much more. - -"And now," exclaims Patty, "what a dinner we shall have in the prodigal's -honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. Brice told -me of." - -She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing -in the kitchen. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - -GORDON'S PRIDE - -The years of a man's life that count the most are often those which may -be passed quickest in the story of it. And so I may hurry over the first -years I spent as Mr. Swain's factor at Gordon's Pride. The task that -came to my hand was heaven-sent. - -That manor-house, I am sure, was the tidiest in all Maryland, thanks to -Patty's New England blood. She was astir with the birds of a morning, -and near the last to retire at night, and happy as the days were long. -She was ever up to her elbows in some dish, and her butter and her -biscuits were the best in the province. Little she cared to work -samplers, or peacocks in pretty wools, tho' in some way she found the -time to learn the spinet. As the troubles with the mother country -thickened, she took to a foot-wheel, and often in the crisp autumn -evenings I would hear the bumping of it as I walked to the house, and -turn the knob to come upon her spinning by the twilight. She would have -no English-made linen in that household. "If mine scratch your back, -Richard," she would say, "you must grin and bear, and console yourself -with your virtue." It was I saw to the flax, and learned from Ivie -Rawlinson (who had come to us from Carvel Hall) the best manner to ripple -and break and swingle it. And Mr. Swain, in imitation of the high -example set by Mr. Bordley, had buildings put up for wheels and the -looms, and in due time kept his own sheep. - -If man or woman, white or black, fell sick on the place, it was Patty -herself who tended them. She knew the virtue of every herb in the big -chest in the storeroom. And at table she presided over her father's -guests with a womanliness that won her more admiration than mine. Now -that the barrister was become a man of weight, the house was as crowded -as ever was Carvel Hall. Carrolls and Pacas and Dulanys and Johnsons, -and Lloyds and Bordleys and Brices and Scotts and Jennings and Ridouts, -and Colonel Sharpe, who remained in the province, and many more families -of prominence which I have not space to mention, all came to Gordon's -Pride. Some of these, as their names proclaim, were of the King's side; -but the bulk of Mr. Swain's company were stanch patriots, and toasted -Miss Patty instead of his Majesty. By this I do not mean that they -lacked loyalty, for it is a matter of note that our colony loved King -George. - -I must not omit from the list above the name of my good friend, Captain -Clapsaddle. - -Nor was there lack of younger company. Betty Tayloe, who plied me with -questions concerning Dorothy and London, but especially about the dashing -and handsome Lord Comyn; and the Dulany girls, and I know not how many -others. Will Fotheringay, when he was home from college, and Archie -Brice, and Francis Willard (whose father was now in the Assembly) and -half a dozen more to court Patty, who would not so much as look at them. -And when I twitted her with this she would redden and reply: "I was -created for a housewife, sir, and not to make eyes from behind a fan." -Indeed, she was at her prettiest and best in the dimity frock, with the -sleeves rolled up. - -'Twas a very merry place, the manor of Gordon's Pride. A generous bowl -of punch always stood in the cool hall, through which the south winds -swept from off the water, and fruit and sangaree and lemonade were on the -table there. The manor had no ball-room, but the negro fiddlers played -in the big parlour. And the young folks danced till supper time. In -three months Patty's suppers grew famous in a colony where there was no -lack of good cooks. - -The sweet-natured invalid enjoyed these festivities in her quiet way, -and often pressed me to partake. So did Patty beg me, and Mr. Swain. -Perhaps a false sense of pride restrained me, but my duties held me all -day in the field, and often into the night when there was curing to be -done, or some other matters of necessity. And for the rest, I thought -I detected a change in the tone of Mr. Fotheringay, and some others, tho' -it may have been due to sensibility on my part. I would put up with no -patronage. - -There was no change of tone, at least, with the elder gentlemen. They -plainly showed me an added respect. And so I fell into the habit, after -my work was over, of joining them in their suppers rather than the sons -and daughters. There I was made right welcome. The serious conversation -spiced with the wit of trained barristers and men of affairs better -suited my changed condition of life. The times were sober, and for those -who could see, a black cloud was on each horizon. 'Twas only a matter of -months when the thunder-clap was to come-indeed, enough was going on -within our own province to forebode a revolution. The Assembly to which -many of these gentlemen belonged was in a righteous state of opposition -to the Proprietary and the Council concerning the emoluments of colonial -officers and of clergymen. Honest Governor Eden had the misfortune to -see the justice of our side, and was driven into a seventh state by his -attempts to square his conscience. Bitter controversies were waging in -the Gazette, and names were called and duels fought weekly. For our -cause "The First Citizen" led the van, and the able arguments and -moderate language of his letters soon identified him as Mr. Charles -Carroll of Carrollton, one of the greatest men Maryland has ever known. -But even at Mr. Swain's, amongst his few intimate friends, Mr. Carroll -could never be got to admit his 'nom de guerre' until long after -'Antilon' had been beaten. - -I write it with pride, that at these suppers I was sometimes asked to -speak; and, having been but lately to England, to give my opinion upon -the state of affairs there. Mr. Carroll honoured me upon two occasions -with his confidence, and I was made clerk to a little club they had, and -kept the minutes in my own hand. - -I went about in homespun, which, if good enough for Mr. Bordley, was good -enough for me. I rode with him over the estate. This gentleman was the -most accomplished and scientific farmer we had in the province. Having -inherited his plantation on Wye Island, near Carvel Hall, he resigned his -duties as judge, and a lucrative practice, to turn all his energies to -the cultivation of the soil. His wheat was as eagerly sought after as -was Colonel Washington's tobacco. - -It was to Mr. Bordley's counsel that the greater part of my success was -due. He taught me the folly of ploughing with a fluke,--a custom to -which the Eastern Shore was wedded, pointing out that a double surface -was thus exposed to the sun's rays; and explained at length why there was -more profit in small grain in that district than heavy tobacco. He gave -me Dr. Eliot's "Essays on Field Husbandry," and Mill's "Husby," which I -read from cover to cover. And I went from time to time to visit him at -Wye Island, when he would canter with me over that magnificent -plantation, and show me with pride the finished outcome of his -experiments. - -Mr. Swain's affairs kept him in town the greater part of the twelve -months, and Mrs. Swain and Patty moved to Annapolis in the autumn. But -for three years I was at Cordon's Pride winter and summer alike. At the -end of that time I was fortunate enough to show my employer such -substantial results as to earn his commendation--ay, and his confidence, -which was the highest token of that man's esteem. The moneys of the -estate he left entirely at my order. And in the spring of '73, when the -opportunity was suddenly offered to buy a thousand acres of excellent -wheat land adjoining, I made the purchase for him while he was at -Williamsburg, and upon my own responsibility. - -This connected the plantation on the east with Singleton's. It had been -my secret hope that the two estates might one day be joined in marriage. -For of all those who came a-courting Patty, Percy was by far the best. -He was but a diffident suitor; he would sit with me on the lawn evening -after evening, when company was there, while Fotheringay and Francis -Willard made their compliments within,--silly flatteries, at which Patty -laughed. - -Percy kept his hounds, and many a run we had together' in the sparkling -days that followed the busy summer, when the crops were safe in the -bottoms; or a quiet pipe and bottle in his bachelor's hall, after a -soaking on the duck points. - -And this brings me to a subject on which I am loth to write. Where Mr. -Singleton was concerned, Patty, the kindest of creatures, was cruelty -itself. Once, when I had the effrontery to venture a word in his behalf, -I had been silenced so effectively as to make my ears tingle. A thousand -little signs led me to a conclusion which pained me more than I can -express. Heaven is my witness that no baser feeling leads me to hint of -it here. Every day while the garden lasted flowers were in my room, and -it was Banks who told me that she would allow no other hands than her own -to place them by my bed. He got a round rating from me for violating the -pledge of secrecy he had given her. It was Patty who made my shirts, and -on Christmas knitted me something of comfort; who stood on the horse- -block in the early morning waving after me as I rode away, and at my -coming her eyes would kindle with a light not to be mistaken. - -None of these things were lost upon Percy Singleton, and I often wondered -why he did not hate me. He was of the kind that never shows a hurt. -Force of habit still sent him to Gordon's Pride, but for days he would -have nothing to say to the mistress of it, or she to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - -VISITORS - -It was not often that Mr. Thomas Swain honoured Gordon's Pride with his -presence. He vowed that the sober Whig company his father brought there -gave him the vapours. He snapped his fingers at the articles of the -Patriots' Association, and still had his cocked hats and his Brussels -lace and his spyglass, and his top boots when he rode abroad, like any -other Tory buck. His intimates were all of the King's side,--of the -worst of the King's side, I should say, for I would not be thought to -cast any slur on the great number of conscientious men of that party. -But, being the son of one of the main props of the Whigs, Mr. Tom went -unpunished for his father's sake. He was not uncondemned. - -Up to 1774, the times that Mr. Swain mentioned his son to me might be -counted on the fingers of one hand. It took not a great deal of -shrewdness to guess that he had paid out many a pretty sum to keep Tom's -honour bright: as bright, at least, as such doubtful metal would polish. -Tho' the barrister sought my ear in many matters, I never heard a whimper -out of him on this score. - -Master Tom had no ambition beyond that of being a macaroni; his easy- -going nature led him to avoid alike trouble and responsibility. Hence he -did not bother his head concerning my position. He appeared well content -that I should make money out of the plantation for him to spend. His -visits to Gordon's Pride were generally in the late autumn, and he -brought his own company with him. I recall vividly his third or fourth -appearance, in October of '73. Well I may! The family was preparing to -go to town, and this year I was to follow them, and take from Mr. Swain's -shoulders some of his private business, for he had been ailing a little -of late from overwork. - -The day of which I have spoken a storm had set in, the rain falling in -sheets. I had been in the saddle since breakfast, seeing to an hundred -repairs that had to be made before the cold weather. 'Twas near the -middle of the afternoon when I pulled up before the weaving house. The -looms were still, and Patty met me at the door with a grave look, which I -knew portended something. But her first words were of my comfort. - -"Richard, will you ever learn sense? You have been wet all day long, -and have missed your dinner. Go at once and change your clothes, sir!" -she commanded severely. - -"I have first to look at the warehouse, where the roof is leaking," I -expostulated. - -"You shall do no such thing," replied she, "but dry yourself, and march -into the dining room. We have had the ducks you shot yesterday, and some -of your experimental hominy; but they are all gone." - -I knew well she had laid aside for me some dainty, as was her habit. -I dismounted. She gave me a quick, troubled glance, and said in a low -voice: - -"Tom is come. And oh, I dare not tell you whom he has with him now!" - -"Courtenay?" I asked. - -"Yes, of coarse. I hate the sight of the man. But your cousin, Philip -Carvel, is here, Richard. Father will be very angry. And they are -making a drinking-tavern of the house." - -I gave Firefly a slap that sent her trotting stable-ward, and walked -rapidly to the house. I found the three of them drinking in the hall, -the punch spilled over the table, and staining the cards. - -"Gad's life!" cries Tom, "here comes Puritan Richard, in his broad rim. -How goes the crop, Richard? 'Twill have to go well, egad, for I lost an -hundred at the South River Club last week!" - -Next him sat Philip, whom I had not seen since before I was carried off. -He was lately come home from King's College; and very mysteriously, his -father giving out that his health was not all it should be. He had not -gained Grafton's height, but he was broader, and his face had something -in it of his father. He had his mother's under lip and complexion. -Grafton was sallow; Philip was a peculiar pink,--not the ruddy pink of -heartier natures, like my grandfather's, nor yet had he the peach-like -skin of Mr. Dix. Philip's was a darker and more solid colour, and I have -never seen man or woman with it and not mistrusted them. He wore a red -velvet coat embroidered with gold, and as costly ruffles as I had ever -seen in London. But for all this my cousin had a coarse look, and his -polished blue flints of eyes were those of a coarse man. - -He got to his feet as Tom spoke, looking anywhere but at me, and came -forward slowly. He was loyal to no one, was Philip, not even to his -father. When he was got within three paces he halted. - -"How do you, cousin?" says he. - -"A little wet, as you perceive, Philip," I replied. - -I left him and stood before the fire, my rough wool steaming in the heat. -He sat down again, a little awkwardly; and the situation began to please -me better. - -"How do you?" I asked presently. - -"I have got a devilish cold," said he. "Faith, I'll warrant the doctor -will be sworn I have been but indifferent company since we left the Hall. -Eh, doctor?" - -Courtenay, with his feet stretched out, bestowed an amiable but languid -wink upon me, as much as to say that I knew what Mr. Philip's company was -at best. When I came out after my dinner, they were still sitting there, -Courtenay yawning, and Tom and Philip wrangling over last night's play. - -"Come, my man of affairs, join us a hand!" says the doctor to me. -"I have known the time when you would sit from noon until supper." - -"I had money then," said I. - -"And you have a little now, or I am cursed badly mistook. Oons! what do -you fear?" he exclaimed, "you that have played with March and Fox?" - -"I fear nothing, doctor," I answered, smiling. "But a man must have a -sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital." - -"One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume," says he, with sarcasm. - -"And if it were, it could scarce be more pat," I retorted. "'Tis Poor -Richard's maxim." - -"O lud! O my soul!" cries Tom, with a hiccup and a snigger; "'tis time -you made another grand tour, Courtenay. Here's the second Whig has got -in on you within the week!" - -"Thank God they have not got me down to osnabrig and bumbo yet," replies -the doctor. Coming over to me by the fire, he tapped my sleeve and added -in a low tone: "Forbearance with such a pair of asses is enough to make a -man shed bitter tears. But a little of it is necessary to keep out of -debt. You and I will play together, against both the lambs, Richard. -One of them is not far from maudlin now." - -"Thank you, doctor," I answered politely, "but I have a better way to -make my living." In three years I had learned a little to control my -temper. - -He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Eh bien, mon bon," says he, "I dare -swear you know your own game better than do I" And he cast a look up -the stairs, of which I quite missed the meaning. Indeed, I was wholly -indifferent. The doctor and his like had passed out of my life, and I -believed they were soon to disappear from our Western Hemisphere. The -report I had heard was now confirmed, that his fortune was dissipated, -and that he lived entirely off these young rakes who aspired to be -macaronies. - -"Since your factor is become a damned Lutheran, Tom," said he, returning -to the table and stripping a pack, "it will have to be picquet. You -promised me we could count on a fourth, or I had never left Inman's." - -It was Tom, as I had feared, who sat down unsteadily opposite. Philip -lounged and watched them sulkily, snuffing and wheezing and dipping into -the bowl, and cursing the house for a draughty barn. I took a pipe on -the settle to see what would come of it. I was not surprised that -Courtenay lost at first, and that Tom drank the most of the punch. Nor -was it above half an hour before the stakes were raised and the tide -began to turn in the doctor's favour. - -"A plague of you, Courtenay!" cries Mr. Tom, at length, flinging down the -cards. His voice was thick, while the Selwyn of Annapolis was never -soberer in his life. Tom appealed first to Philip for the twenty pounds -he owed him. - -"You know how damned stingy my father is, curse you," whined my cousin, -in return. "I told you I should not have it till the first of the -month." - -Tom swore back. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and sank into -that attitude of dejection common to drunkards. Suddenly he pulled -himself up. - -"'Shblood! Here's Richard t' draw from. Lemme have fifty pounds, -Richard." - -"Not a farthing," I said, unmoved. - -"You say wha' shall be done with my father's money!" he cried. "I call -tha' damned cool--Gad's life! I do. Eh, Courtenay?" - -Courtenay had the sense not to interfere. - -"I'll have you dishcharged, Gads death! so I will!" he shouted. "No -damned airs wi' me, Mr. Carvel. I'll have you know you're not wha' you -once were, but, only a cursht oversheer." - -He struggled to his feet, forgot his wrath on the instant, and began to -sing drunkenly the words of a ribald air. I took him by both shoulders -and pushed him back into his chair. - -"Be quiet," I said sternly; "while your mother and sister are here you -shall not insult them with such a song." He ceased, astonished. "And as -for you, gentlemen," I continued, "you should know better than to make a -place of resort out of a gentleman's house." - -Courtenay's voice broke the silence that followed. - -"Of all the cursed impertinences I ever saw, egad!" he drawled. "Is -this your manor, Mr. Carvel? Or have you a seat in Kent?" - -I would not have it in black and white that I am an advocate of fighting. -But a that moment I was in the mood when it does not matter much one way -or the other. The drunken man carried us past the point. - -"The damned in--intriguing rogue'sh worked himself into my father's -grashes," he said, counting out his words. "He'sh no more Whig than me. -I know'sh game, Courtenay--he wants t' marry Patty. Thish place'll be -hers." - -The effect upon me of these words, with all their hideous implication of -gossip and scandal, was for an instant benumbing. The interpretation of -the doctor's innuendo struck me then. I was starting forward, with a -hand open to clap over Tom's mouth, when I saw the laugh die on -Courtenay's face, and him come bowing to his legs. I turned with a -start. - -On the stairs stood Patty herself, pale as marble. - -"Come with me, Tom," she said. - -He had obeyed her from childhood. This time he tried, and failed -miserably. - -"Beg pardon, Patty," he stammered, "no offensh meant. Thish factor -thinks h' ownsh Gordon's now. I say, not'll h' marries you. Good -fellow, Richard, but infernal forward. Eh, Courtenay?" - -Philip turned away, while the doctor pretended to examine the silver -punch-ladle. As for me, I could only stare. It was Patty who kept her -head, and made us a stately curtsey. - -"Will you do me the kindness, gentlemen," said she, "to leave me with my -brother?" - -We walked silently into the parlour, and I closed the door. - -"Slife!" cried Courtenay, "she's a vision. What say you, Philip? And I -might see her in that guise again, egad, I would forgive Tom his five -hundred crowns!" - -"A buxom vision," agreed my cousin, "but I vow I like 'em so." He had -forgotten his cold. - -"This conversation is all of a piece with the rest of your conduct," said -I, hotly. - -The candles were burning brightly in the sconces. The doctor walked to -the glass, took snuff, and burnished his waistcoat before he answered. - -"Sure, a fortune lies under every virtue we assume," he recited. "But -she is not for you, Richard," says he, tapping his box. - -"Mr. Carvel, if you please," I replied. I felt the demon within me. But -I had the sense to realize that a quarrel with Dr. Courtenay, under the -circumstances, would be far from wise. He had no intention of -quarrelling, however. He made me a grand bow. - -"Mr. Carvel, your very obedient. Hereafter I shall know better than to -forget myself with an overseer." And he gave me his back. "What say you -to a game of billiards, Philip?" - -Philip seemed glad to escape. And soon I heard their voices, mingling -with the click of the balls. There followed for me one of the bitterest -half hours I have had in my life. Then Patty opened the hall door. - -"Will you come in for a moment, Richard?" she said, quite calmly. - -I followed her, wondering at the masterful spirit she had shown. For -there was Tom all askew in his chair, his feet one way and his hands -another, totally subdued. What was most to the point, he made me an -elaborate apology. How she had sobered his mind I know not. His body -was as helpless as the day he was born. - -Long before the guests thought of rising the next morning, Patty came to -me as I was having the mare saddled. The sun was up, and the clouds were -being chased, like miscreants who have played their prank, and were now -running for it. The sharp air brought the red into her cheeks. And for -the first time in her life with me she showed shyness. She glanced up -into my face, and then down at the leaves running on the ground. - -"I hope they will go to-day," said she, when I was ready to mount. - -I began to tighten the girths, venting my feelings on Firefly until the -animal swung around and made a vicious pass at my arm. - -"Richard!" - -"Yes." - -"You will not worry over that senseless speech of Tom's?" - -"I see it in a properer light now, Patty," I replied. "I usually do--in -the morning." - -She sighed. - -"You are so--high-strung," she said, "I was afraid you would--" - -"I would--?" - -She did not answer until I had repeated. - -"I was very silly," she said slowly, her colour mounting even higher," -I was afraid that you would--leave us." Stroking the mare's neck, and -with a little halt in her voice, "I do not know what we should do -without you." - -Indeed, I was beginning to think I would better leave, though where I -should go was more than I could say. With a quick intuition she caught -my hand as I put foot in the stirrup. - -"You will not go away!" she cried. "Say you will not! What would poor -father do? He is not so well as he used to be." - -The wild appeal in her eyes frightened me. It was beyond resisting. In -great agitation I put my foot to the ground again. - -"Patty, I should be a graceless scamp in truth," I exclaimed. "I do not -forget that your father gave me a home when mine was taken away, and has -made me one of his family. I shall thank God if I can but lighten some -of his burdens." - -But they did not depart that day, nor the next; nor, indeed, for a week -after. For Philip's cold brought on a high fever. He stuck to his bed, -and Patty herself made broth and dainties for him, and prescribed him -medicine out of the oak chest whence had come so much comfort. At first -Philip thought he would die, and forswore wine and cards, and some other -things the taste for which he had cultivated, and likewise worse vices -that had come to him by nature. - -I am greatly pleased to write that the stay profited the gallant Dr. -Courtenay nothing. Patty's mature beauty and her manner of carrying off -the episode in the hall had made a deep impression upon the Censor. I -read the man's mind in his eye; here was a match to mend his fortunes, -and do him credit besides. However, his wit and his languishing glances -and double meanings fell on barren ground. No tire-woman on the -plantation was busier than Patty during the first few days of his stay. -After that he grew sulky and vented his spleen on poor Tom, winning more -money from him at billiards and picquet. Since the doctor was too much -the macaroni to ride to hounds and to shoot ducks, time began to hang -exceeding heavy on his hands. - -Patty and I had many a quiet laugh over his predicament. And, to add -zest to the situation, I informed Singleton of what was going forward. -He came over every night for supper, and to my delight the bluff -Englishman was received in a fashion to make the doctor writhe and snort -with mortification. Never in his life had he been so insignificant a -person. And he, whose conversation was so sought after in the gay season -in town, was thrown for companionship upon a scarce-grown boy whose talk -was about as salted, and whose intellect as great, as those of the -cockerouse in our fable. He stood it about a se'nnight, at the end of -which space Philip was put on his horse, will-he-nill-he, and made to -ride northward. - -I sat with my cousin of an evening as he lay in bed. Not, I own, from -any charity on my part, but from other motives which do me no credit. -The first night he confessed his sins, and they edified me not a little. -On the second he was well enough to sit up and swear, and to vow that -Miss Swain was an angel; that he would marry her the very next week and -his father Grafton were not such a stickler for family. - -"Curse him," says his dutiful and loyal son, "he is so bally stingy with -my stipend that I am in debt to half the province. And I say it myself, -Richard, he has been a blackguard to you, tho' I allow him some little -excuse. You were faring better now, my dear cousin, and you had not -given him every reason to hate you. For I have heard him declare more -than once 'pon my soul, I have--that he would rather you were his friend -than his enemy." - -My contempt for Philip kept me silent here. I might quarrel with -Grafton, who had sense enough to feel pain at a well deserved thrust. -Philip had not the intelligence to recognize insult from compliment. It -was but natural he should mistake my attitude now. He leaned forward in -his bed. - -"Hark you, Richard," whispers he, with a glance at the door, "I might -tell you some things and I chose, and--and it were worth my while." - -"Worth your while?" I repeated vaguely. - -He traced nervously the figures on the counterpane. Next came a rush of -anger to redden his face. - -"By Gad, I will tell you. Swear to Gad I will." Then, the little -cunning inherited from his father asserting itself, he added, "Look you, -Richard, I am the son of one of the richest men in the colony, and I get -the pittance of a backwoods pastor. I tell you 'tis not to be borne -with. And I am not of as much consideration at the Hall as Brady, the -Irish convict, who has become overseer." - -I little wondered at this. Philip sank back, and for some moments eyed -me between narrowed lids. He continued presently with shortened breath: - -"I have evidence--I have evidence to get you back a good share of the -estate, which my father will never miss. And I will do it," he cries, -suddenly bold, "I will do it for three thousand pounds down when you -receive it." - -This was why he had come with Tom to Talbot! I was so dumfounded that my -speech was quite taken away. Then I got up and began pacing the room. -Was it not fair to fight a scoundrel with his own weapons? Here at last -was the witness Mr. Swain had been seeking so long, come of his own free -will. Then--Heaven help me!--my mind flew on. As time had passed I had -more than once regretted refusing the Kent plantation, which had put her -from whom my thought never wandered within my reach again. Good Mr. -Swain had erred for once. 'Twas foolish, indeed, not to accept a portion -of what was rightfully mine, when no more could be got. And now, if what -Philip said was true (and I doubted it not), here at last was the chance -come again to win her without whom I should never be happy. I glanced at -my cousin. - -"Gad's life!" says he, "it is cheap enough. I might have asked you -double." - -"So you might, and have been refused," I cried hotly. For I believe that -speech of his recalled me to my senses. It has ever been an instinct -with me that no real prosperity comes out of double-dealing. And -commerce with such a sneak sickened me. "Go back to your father, -Philip, and threaten him, and he may make you rich. Such as he live by -blackmail. And you may add, and you will, that the day of retribution -is coming for him." - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - -MULTUM IN PARVO - -I lost no time after getting to Annapolis in confiding to Mr. Swain the -conversation I had had with my cousin Philip. And I noticed, as he sat -listening to my account in the library in Gloucester Street, that the -barrister looked very worn. He had never been a strong man, and the -severe strain he had been under with the patriots' business was beginning -to tell. - -He was very thoughtful when I had finished, and then told me briefly that -I had done well not to take the offer. "Tucker would have made but short -work of such evidence, my lad," said he, "and I think Master Philip would -have lied himself in and out a dozen times. I cannot think what witness -he would have introduced save Mr. Allen. And there is scarcely a doubt -that your uncle pays him for his silence, for I am told he is living in -Frederick in a manner far above what he gets from the parish. However, -Philip has given us something more to work on. It may be that he can put -hands on the messenger." - -I rose to go. - -"We shall bring them to earth yet, Richard, and I live," he added. "And -I have always meant to ask you whether you ever regretted your decision -in taking Gordon's Pride." - -"And you live, sir!" I exclaimed, not heeding the question. - -He smiled somewhat sadly. - -"Of one thing I am sure, my lad," he continued, "which is that I have had -no regrets about taking you. Mr. Bordley has just been here, and tells -me you are the ablest young man in the province. You see that more eyes -than mine are upon you. You have proved yourself a man, Richard, and -there are very few macaronies would have done as you did. I am resolved -to add another little mite to your salary." - -The "little mite" was of such a substantial nature that I protested -strongly against it. I thought of Tom's demands upon him. - -"I could afford to give you double for what you have made off the place," -he interrupted. "But I do not believe in young men having too much." He -sighed, and turned to his work. - -I hesitated. "You have spent time and labour upon my case, sir, and have -asked no fee." - -"I shall speak of the fee when I win it," he said dryly, "and not before. -How would you like to be clerk this winter to the Committee of -Correspondence?" - -I suppose my pleasure was expressed in my face. - -"Well," said he, "I have got you the appointment without much difficulty. -There are many ways in which you can be useful to the party when not -helping me with my affairs." - -This conversation gave me food for reflection during a week. I was -troubled about Mr. Swain, and what he had said as to not living kept -running in my head as I wrote or figured. For I had enough to hold me -busy. - -In the meantime, the clouds fast gathering on both sides of the Atlantic -grew blacker, and blacker still. I saw a great change in Annapolis. Men -of affairs went about with grave faces, while gay and sober alike were -touched by the spell. The Tory gentry, to be sure, rattled about in -their gilded mahogany coaches, in spite of jeers and sour looks. My Aunt -Caroline wore jewelled stomachers to the assemblies,--now become dry and -shrivelled entertainments. She kept her hairdresser, had three men in -livery to her chair, and a little negro in Turk's costume to wait on her. -I often met her in the streets, and took a fierce joy in staring her, in -the eye. And Grafton! By a sort of fate I was continually running -against him. He was a very busy man, was my uncle, and had a kind of -dignified run, which he used between Marlboro' Street and the Council -Chamber in the Stadt House, or the Governor's mansion. He never did me -the honour to glance at me. The Rev. Mr. Allen, too, came a-visiting -from Frederick, where he had grown stout as an alderman upon the living -and its perquisites and Grafton's additional bounty. The gossips were -busy with his doings, for he had his travelling-coach and servant now. -He went to the Tory balls with my aunt. Once I all but encountered him -on the Circle, but he ran into Northeast Street to avoid me. - -Yes, that was the winter when the wise foresaw the inevitable, and the -first sharp split occurred between men who had been brothers. The old -order of things had plainly passed, and I was truly thankful that my -grandfather had not lived to witness those scenes. The greater part of -our gentry stood firm for America's rights, and they had behind them the -best lawyers in America. After the lawyers came the small planters and -most of the mechanics. The shopkeepers formed the backbone of King -George's adherents; the Tory gentry, the clergy, and those holding office -under the proprietor made the rest. - -And it was all about tea, a word which, since '67, had been steadily -becoming the most vexed in the language. The East India Company had put -forth a complaint. They had Heaven knows how many tons getting stale in -London warehouses, all by reason of our stubbornness, and so it was -enacted that all tea paying the small American tax should have a rebate -of the English duties. That was truly a master-stroke, for Parliament to -give it us cheaper than it could be had at home! To cause his Majesty's -government to lose revenues for the sake of being able to say they had -caught and taxed us at last! The happy result is now history, my dears. -And this is not a history, tho' I wish it were. What occurred at Boston, -at Philadelphia, and Charleston, has since caused Englishmen, as well as -Americans, to feel proud. The chief incident in Annapolis I shall -mention in another chapter. - -When it became known with us that several cargoes were on their way to -the colonies, excitement and indignation gained a pitch not reached since -the Stamp Act. Business came to a standstill, plantations lay idle, and -gentry and farmers flocked to Annapolis, and held meetings and made -resolutions anew. On my way of a morning from Mr. Swain's house to his -chambers in the Circle I would meet as many as a dozen knots of people. -Mr. Claude was one of the few patriots who reaped reward out of the -disturbance, for his inn was crowded. The Assembly met, appointed -committees to correspond with the other colonies, and was prorogued once -and again. Many a night I sat up until the small hours copying out -letters to the committees of Virginia, and Pennsylvania, and -Massachusetts. The gentlemen were wont to dine at the Coffee House, -and I would sit near the foot of the table, taking notes of their plans. -'Twas so I met many men of distinction from the other colonies. Colonel -Washington came once. He was grown a greater man than ever, and I -thought him graver than when I had last seen him. I believe a trait of -this gentleman was never to forget a face. - -"How do you, Richard?" said he. How I reddened when he called me so -before all the committee. "I have heard your story, and it does you vast -credit. And the gentlemen tell me yon are earning laurels, sir." - -That first winter of the tea troubles was cold and wet with us, and the -sun, as if in sympathy with the times, rarely showed his face. Early in -February our apprehensions concerning Mr. Swain's health were realized. -One day, without a word to any one, he went to his bed, where Patty found -him. And I ran all the way to Dr. Leiden's. The doctor looked at him, -felt his pulse and his chest, and said nothing. But he did not rest that -night, nor did Patty or I. - -Thus I came to have to do with the good barrister's private affairs. I -knew that he was a rich man, as riches went in our province, but I had -never tried to guess at his estate. I confess the sums he had paid out -in Tom's behalf frightened me. With the advice of Mr. Bordley and Mr. -Lloyd I managed his money as best I could, but by reason of the non- -importation resolutions there was little chance for good investments, ---no cargoes coming and few going. I saw, indeed, that buying the Talbot -estate had been a fortunate step, since the quantities of wheat we grew -there might be disposed of in America. - -When Dr. Leiden was still coming twice a day to Gloucester Street, Mr. -Tom must needs get into a scrape with one of the ladies of the theatre, -and come to me in the Circle chambers for one hundred pounds. I told -him, in despair, that I had no authority to pay out his father's money. -"And so you have become master, sure enough!" he cried, in a passion. -For he was desperate. "You have worked your way in vastly well, egad, -with your Whig committee meetings and speeches. And now he is on his -back, and you have possession, you choose to cut me off. 'Slife, I know -what will be coming next!" - -I pulled him into Mr. Swain's private room, where we would be free of the -clerks. "Yes, I am master here," I replied, sadly enough, as he stood -sullenly before me. "I should think you would be ashamed to own it. -When I came to your father I was content to be overseer in Talbot, and -thankful for his bounty. 'Tis no fault of mine, but your disgrace, that -his son is not managing his business, and supporting him in the rights of -his country. I am not very old, Tom. A year older than you, I believe. -But I have seen enough of life to prophesy your end and you do not -reform." - -"We are turned preacher," he says, with a sneer. - -"God forbid! But I have been in a sponging-house, and tasted the lowest -dregs. And if this country becomes free, as I think it will some day, -such as you will be driven to England, and die in the Fleet." - -"Not while my father lives," retorts he, and throws aside the oiled silk -cape with a London name upon it. The day was rainy. I groaned. My -responsibility lay heavy upon me. And this was not my first scene with -him. He continued doggedly:--"You have no right to deny me what is not -yours. 'Twill be mine one day." - -"You have no right to accuse me of thoughts that do not occur to men of -honour," I replied. "I am slower to anger than I once was, but I give -you warning now. Do you know that you will ruin your father in another -year and you continue?" - -He gave me no answer. I reached for the ledger, and turning the pages, -called off to him the sums he had spent. - -"Oh, have done, d--n it!" he cried, when I was not a third through. -"Are you or are you not to give me the money?" - -"And you are to spend it upon an actress?" I should have called her by -a worse name. - -"Actress!" he shouted. "Have you seen her in The Orphan? My soul, she -is a divinity!" Then he shifted suddenly to whining and cringing. -"I am ruined outright, Richard, if I do not get it." - -Abjectly he confessed the situation, which had in it enough material for -a scandal to set the town wagging for a month. And the weight of it -would fall; as I well knew, upon those who deserved it least. - -"I will lend you the money, or, rather, will pay it for you," I said, at -last. For I was not so foolish as to put it into his hands. "You shall -have the sum under certain conditions." - -He agreed to them before they were out of my mouth, and swore in a dozen -ways that he would repay me every farthing. He was heartily tired of the -creature, and, true to his nature, afraid of her. That night when the -play was over I went to her lodging, and after a scene too distressing to -dwell upon, bought her off. - -I sat with Mr. Swain many an hour that spring, with Patty sewing at the -window open to the garden. Often, as we talked, unnoticed by her father -she would drop her work and the tears glisten in her eyes. For the -barrister's voice was not as strong as it once was, and the cold would -not seem to lift from his chest. So this able man, who might have sat in -the seats of Maryland's high reward, was stricken when he was needed -most. - -He was permitted two visitors a day: now 'twas Mr. Carroll and Colonel -Lloyd, again Colonel Tilghman and Captain Clapsaddle, or Mr. Yaca and Mr. -Bordley. The gentlemen took turns, and never was their business so -pressing that they missed their hour. Mr. Swain read all the prints, and -in his easier days would dictate to me his views for the committee, -or a letter signed Brutes for Mr. Green to put in the Gazette. So I -became his mouthpiece at the meetings, and learned to formulate my -thoughts and to speak clearly. - -For fear of confusing this narrative, my dears, I have referred but -little to her who was in my thoughts night and day, and whose locket I -wore, throughout all those years, next my heart. I used to sit out under -the stars at Gordon's Pride, with the river lapping at my feet, and -picture her the shining centre of all the brilliant scenes I had left, -and wonder if she still thought of me. - -Nor have I mentioned that faithful correspondent, and more faithful -friend, Lord Comyn. As soon as ever I had obtained from Captain Daniel -my mother's little inheritance, I sent off the debt I owed his Lordship. -'Twas a year before I got him to receive it; he despatched the money back -once, saying that I had more need of it than he. I smiled at this, for -my Lord was never within his income, and I made no doubt he had signed a -note to cover my indebtedness. - -Every letter Comyn writ me was nine parts Dolly, and the rest of his -sheet usually taken up with Mr. Fox and his calamities: these had fallen -upon him very thick of late. Lord Holland had been forced to pay out a -hundred thousand pounds for Charles, and even this enormous sum did not -entirely free Mr. Fox from the discounters and the hounds. The reason -for this sudden onslaught was the birth of a boy to his brother Stephen, -who was heir to the title. "When they told Charles of it," Comyn wrote, -"said he, coolly: 'My brother Ste's son is a second Messiah, born for the -destruction of the Jews.'" - -I saw no definite signs, as yet, of the conversion of this prodigy, which -I so earnestly hoped for. He had quarrelled with North, lost his place -on the Admiralty, and presently the King had made him a Lord of the -Treasury, tho' more out of fear than love. Once in a while, when he saw -Comyn at Almack's, he would desire to be remembered to me, and he always -spoke of me with affection. But he could be got to write to no one, said -my Lord, with kind exaggeration; nor will he receive letters, for fear he -may get a dun. - -Alas, I got no message from Dorothy! Nor had she ever mentioned my name -to Comyn. He had not seen her for eight months after I left England, as -she had been taken to the Continent for her health. She came back to -London more ravishing than before, and (I use his Lordship's somewhat -extravagant language) her suffering had stamped upon her face even more -of character and power. She had lost much of her levity, likewise. In -short, my Lord declared, she was more of the queen than ever, and the -mystery which hung over the Vauxhall duel had served only to add to her -fame. - -Dorothy having become cognizant of Mr. Marmaduke's trickery, Chartersea -seemed to have dropped out of the race. He now spent his time very -evenly between Spa and Derresley and Paris. Hence I had so much to be -thankful for,--that with all my blunders, I had saved her from his Grace. -My Lord the Marquis of Wells was now most conspicuous amongst her -suitors. Comyn had nothing particular against this nobleman, saying that -he was a good fellow, with a pretty fortune. And here is a letter, my -dears, in which he figures, that I brought to Cordon's Pride that spring: - - "10 SOUTH PARADE, BATH, - "March 12, 1774. - - "DEAR RICHARD:--Miss Manners has come to Bath, with a train behind - her longer than that which followed good Queen Anne hither, when she - made this Gehenna the fashion. Her triumphal entry last Wednesday - was announced by such a peal of the abbey bells as must have cracked - the metal (for they have not rung since) and started Beau Nash - a-cursing where he lies under the floor. Next came her serenade by - the band. Mr. Marmaduke swore they would never have done, and - squirmed and grinned like Punch when he thought of the fee, for he - had hoped to get off with a crown, I warrant you. You should have - seen his face when they would accept no fee at all for the beauty! - Some wag has writ a verse about it, which was printed, and has set - the whole pump-room laughing this morning. - - "She was led out by Wells in the Seasons last night. As Spring she - is too bewildering for my pen,--all primrose and white, with the - flowers in her blue-black hair. Had Sir Joshua seen her, he would - never rest content till he should have another portrait. The Duc de - Lauzun, who contrived to get two dances, might give you a - description in a more suitable language than English. And there was - a prodigious deal of jealousy among the fair ones on the benches, - you may be sure, and much jaundiced comment. - - "Some half dozen of us adorers have a mess at the Bear, and have - offered up a prize for the most appropriate toast on the beauty. - This is in competition with Mrs. Miller. Have you not heard of her - among your tobacco-hills? Horry calls her Mrs. 'Calliope' Miller. - At her place near here, Bath Easton Villa, she has set up a Roman - vase bedecked with myrtle, and into this we drop our bouts-rimes. - Mrs. Calliope has a ball every Thursday, when the victors are - crowned. T'other day the theme was 'A Buttered Muffin,' and her - Grace of Northumberland was graciously awarded the prize. In faith, - that theme taxed our wits at the Bear,--how to weave Miss Dolly's - charms into a verse on a buttered muffin. I shall not tire you with - mine. Storer's deserved to win, and we whisper that Mrs. Calliope - ruled it out through spite. 'When Phyllis eats,' so it began, and I - vow 'twas devilish ingenious. - - "We do nothing but play lasquenet and tennis, and go to the - assembly, and follow Miss Dolly into Gill's, the pastry-cook's, - where she goes every morning to take a jelly. The ubiquitous Wells - does not give us much chance. He writes 'vers de societe' with the - rest, is high in Mr. Marmaduke's favour, which alone is enough to - damn his progress. I think she is ill of the sight of him. - - "Albeit she does not mourn herself into a tree, I'll take oath your - Phyllis is true to you, Richard, and would live with you gladly in a - thatched hut and you asked her. Write me more news of yourself. - - "Your ever affectionate - "COMYN - - - "P.S. I have had news of you through Mr. Worthington, of your - colony, who is just arrived here. He tells me that you - have gained a vast reputation for your plantation, and likewise that - you are thought much of by the Whig wiseacres, and that you hold - many seditious offices. He does not call them so. Since your - modesty will not permit you to write me any of these things, I have - been imagining you driving slaves with a rawhide, and seeding - runaway convicts to the mines. Mr. W. is even now paying his - respects to Miss Manners, and I doubt not trumpeting your praises - there, for he seems to like you. So I have asked him to join the - Bear mess. One more unfortunate! - - "P.S. I was near forgetting the news about Charles Fox. He sends - you his love, and tells me to let you know that he has been turned - out of North's house for good and all. He is sure you will be - cursed happy over it, and says that you predicted he would go over - to the Whigs. I can scarce believe that he will. North took a - whole week to screw up His courage, h-s M-j-sty pricking him every - day. And then he wrote this: - - "'Sir, his Majesty has thought proper to order a new Commission of - the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not see your name.' Poor - Charles! He is now without money or place, but as usual appears to - worry least of all of us, and still reads his damned Tasso for - amusement. - "C." - -Perchance he was to be the Saint Paul of English politics, after all. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX - -LIBERTY LOSES A FRIEND - -Mr. Bordley's sloop took Mr. Swain to Gordon's Pride in May, and placed -him in the big room overlooking the widening river. There he would lie -all day long, staring through the leaves at the water, or listening to -the sweet music of his daughter's voice as she read from the pompous -prints of the time. Gentlemen continued to come to the plantation, -for the barrister's wisdom was sorely missed at the councils. One day, -as I rode in from the field, I found Colonel Lloyd just arrived from -Philadelphia, sipping sangaree on the lawn and mopping himself with his -handkerchief. His jolly face was troubled. He waved his hand at me. - -"Well, Richard," says he, "we children are to have our first whipping. -At least one of us. And the rest are resolved to defy our parent." - -"Boston, Mr. Lloyd?" I asked. - -"Yes, Boston," he replied; "her port is closed, and we are forbid any -intercourse with her until she comes to her senses. And her citizens -must receive his gracious Majesty's troopers into their houses. And if -a man kill one of them by any chance, he is to go to England to be tried. -And there is more quite as bad." - -"'Tis bad enough!" I cried, flinging myself down. And Patty gave me a -glass in silence. - -"Ay, but you must hear all," said he; "our masters are of a mind to do -the thing thoroughly. Canada is given some score of privileges. Her -French Roman Catholics, whom we fought not long since, are thrown a sop, -and those vast territories between the lakes and the Ohio and Mississippi -are given to Quebec as a price for her fidelity. And so, if the worst -comes to worst, George's regiments will have a place to land against us." - -Such was the news, and though we were some hundreds of miles from -Massachusetts, we felt their cause as our own. There was no need -of the appeal which came by smoking horses from Philadelphia, for the -indignation of our people was roused to the highest pitch. Now Mr. Swain -had to take to his bed from the excitement. - -This is not a history, my dears, as I have said. And time is growing -short. I shall pass over that dreary summer of '74. It required no very -keen eye to see the breakers ahead, and Mr. Bordley's advice to provide -against seven years of famine did not go unheeded. War was the last -thing we desired. We should have been satisfied with so little, we -colonies! And would have voted the duties ten times over had our rights -been respected. Should any of you doubt this, you have but to read the -"Address to the King" of our Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The -quarrel was so petty, and so easy of mending, that you of this generation -may wonder why it was allowed to run. I have tried to tell you that the -head of a stubborn, selfish, and wilful monarch blocked the way to -reconciliation. King George the Third is alone to blame for that hatred -of race against race which already hath done so much evil. And I pray -God that a great historian may arise whose pen will reveal the truth, -and reconcile at length those who are, and should be, brothers. - -By October, that most beautiful month of all the year in Maryland, we -were again in Annapolis: One balmy day 'twas a Friday, I believe, and a -gold and blue haze hung over the Severn--Mr. Chase called in Gloucester -Street to give the barrister news of the Congress, which he had lately -left. As he came down the stairs he paused for a word with me in the -library, and remarked sadly upon Mr. Swain's condition. "He looks like -a dying man, Richard," said he, "and we can ill afford to lose him." - -Even as we sat talking in subdued tones, the noise of a distant commotion -arose. We had scarce started to our feet, Mr. Chase and I, when the -brass knocker resounded, and Mr. Hammond was let in. His wig was awry, -and his face was flushed. - -"I thought to find you here," he said to Mr. Chase. "The Anne Arundel -Committee is to meet at once, and we desire to have you with us." -Perceiving our blank faces, he added: "The 'Peggy Stewart' is in this -morning with over a ton of tea aboard, consigned to the Williams's." - -The two jumped into a chaise, and I followed afoot, stopped at every -corner by some excited acquaintance; so that I had the whole story, and -more, ere I reached Church Street. The way was blocked before the -committee rooms, and 'twas said that the merchants, Messrs. Williams, -and Captain Jackson of the brig, were within, pleading their cause. - -Presently the news leaked abroad that Mr. Anthony Stewart, the brig's -owner, had himself paid the duty on the detested plant. Some hundreds -of people were elbowing each other in the street, for the most part quiet -and anxious, until Mr. Hammond appeared and whispered to a man at the -door. In all my life before I had never heard the hum of an angry crowd. -The sound had something ominous in it, like the first meanings of a wind -that is to break off great trees at their trunks. Then some one shouted: -"To Hanover Street! To Hanover Street! We'll have him tarred and -feathered before the sun is down!" The voice sounded strangely like -Weld's. They charged at this cry like a herd of mad buffalo, the weaker -ones trampled under foot or thrust against the wall. The windows of Mr. -Aikman's shop were shattered. I ran with the leaders, my stature and -strength standing me in good stead more than once, and as we twisted into -Northwest Street I took a glance at the mob behind me, and great was my -anxiety at not being able to descry one responsible person. - -Mr. Stewart's house stood, and stands to-day, amid trim gardens, in plain -sight of the Severn. Arriving there, the crowd massed in front of it, -some of the boldest pressing in at the gate and spreading over the circle -of lawn enclosed by the driveway. They began to shout hoarsely, with -what voices they had left, for Mr. Stewart to come out, calling him names -not to be spoken, and swearing they would show him how traitors were to -be served. I understood then the terror of numbers, and shuddered. A -chandler, a bold and violent man, whose leather was covered with grease, -already had his foot on the steps, when the frightened servants slammed -the door in his face, and closed the lower windows. In vain I strained -my eyes for some one who might have authority with them. They began to -pick up stones, though none were thrown. - -Suddenly a figure appeared at an upper window,--a thin and wasted woman -dressed in white, with sad, sweet features. It was Mrs. Stewart. -Without flinching she looked down upon the upturned faces; but a mob of -that kind has no pity. Their leaders were the worst class in our -province, being mostly convicts who had served their terms of indenture. -They continued to call sullenly for "the traitor." Then the house door -opened, and the master himself appeared. He was pale and nervous, and -no wonder; and his voice shook as he strove to make himself heard. His -words were drowned immediately by shouts of "Seize him! Seize the d--d -traitor!" "A pot and a coat of hot tar!" - -Those who were nearest started forward, and I with them. With me 'twas -the decision of an instant. I beat the chandler up the steps, and took -stand in front of the merchant, and I called out to them to fall back. - -To my astonishment they halted. The skirts of the crowd were now come to -the foot of the little porch. I faced them with my hand on Mr. Stewart's -arm, without a thought of what to do next, and expecting violence. There -was a second's hush. Then some one cried out: - -"Three cheers for Richard Carvel!" - -They gave them with a will that dumfounded me. - -"My friends," said I, when I had got my wits, "this is neither the -justice nor the moderation for which our province is noted. You have -elected your committee of your free wills, and they have claims before -you." - -"Ay, ay, the committee!" they shouted. "Mr. Carvel is right. Take him -to the Committee!" - -Mr. Stewart raised his hand. - -"My friends," he began, as I had done, "when you have learned the -truth, you will not be so hasty to blame me for an offence of which I am -innocent. The tea was not for me. The brig was in a leaky and dangerous -state and had fifty souls aboard her. I paid the duty out of humanity--" - -He had come so far, when they stopped him. - -"Oh, a vile Tory!" they shouted. "He is conniving with the Council. -'Twas put up between them." And they followed this with another volley -of hard names, until I feared that his chance was gone. - -"You would best go before the Committee, Mr. Stewart," I said. - -"I will go with Mr. Carvel, my friends," he cried at once. And he -invited me into the house whilst he ordered his coach. I preferred to -remain outside. - -I asked them if they would trust me with Mr. Stewart to Church Street. - -"Yes, yes, Mr. Carvel, we know you," said several. "He has good cause to -hate Tories," called another, with a laugh. I knew the voice. - -"For shame, Weld," I cried. And I saw McNeir, who was a stanch friend of -mine, give him a cuff to send him spinning. - -To my vast satisfaction they melted away, save only a few of the idlest -spirits, who hung about the gate, and cheered as we drove off. Mr. -Stewart was very nervous, and profuse in his gratitude. I replied that -I had acted only as would have any other responsible citizen. On the way -he told me enough of his case to convince me that there was much to be -said on his side, but I thought it the better part of wisdom not to -commit myself. The street in front of the committee rooms was empty, and -I was informed that a town meeting had been called immediately at the -theatre in West Street. And I advised Mr. Stewart to attend. But -through anxiety or anger, or both, he was determined not to go, and drove -back to his house without me. - -I had got as far as St. Anne's, halfway to the theatre, when it suddenly -struck me that Mr. Swain must be waiting for news. With a twinge I -remembered what Mr. Chase had said about the barrister's condition, and I -hurried back to Gloucester Street, much to the surprise of those I met on -their way to the meeting. I was greatly relieved, when I arrived, to -find Patty on the porch. I knew she had never been there were her father -worse. After a word with her and her mother, I went up the stairs. - -It was the hour for the barrister's nap. But he was awake, lying back -on the pillows, with his eyes half closed. He was looking out into the -garden, which was part orchard, now beginning to shrivel and to brown -with the first touch of frosts. - -"That is you, Richard?" he inquired, without moving. "What is going -forward to-day?" - -I toned down the news, so as not to excite him, and left out the -occurrence in Hanover Street. He listened with his accustomed interest, -but when I had done he asked no questions, and lay for a long time -silent. Then he begged me to bring my chair nearer. - -"Richard,--my son," said he, with an evident effort, "I have never -thanked you for your devotion to me and mine through the best years of -your life. It shall not go unrewarded, my lad." - -It seemed as if my heart stood still with the presage of what was to -come. - -"May God reward you, sir!" I said. - -"I have wished to speak to you," he continued, "and I may not have -another chance. I have arranged with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, to take -your cause against your uncle, so that you will lose nothing when I am -gone. And you will see, in my table in the library, that I have left my -property in your hands, with every confidence in your integrity, and -ability to care for my family, even as I should have done." - -I could not speak at once. A lump rose in my throat, for I had come to -look upon him as a father. His honest dealings, his charity, of which -the world knew nothing, and his plain and unassuming ways had inspired -in me a kind of worship. I answered, as steadily as I might: - -"I believe I am too inexperienced for such a responsibility, Mr. Swain. -Would it not be better that Mr. Bordley or Mr. Lloyd should act?" - -"No, no," he said; "I am not a man to do things unadvisedly, or to let -affection get the better of my judgment, where others dear to me are -concerned. I know you, Richard Carvel. Scarce an action of yours has -escaped my eye, though I have said nothing. You have been through the -fire, and are of the kind which comes out untouched. You will have Judge -Bordley's advice, and Mr. Carroll's. And they are too busy with the -affairs of the province to be burdened as my executors. But," he added a -little more strongly, "if what I fear is coming, Mr. Bordley will take -the trust in your absence. If we have war, Richard, you will not be -content to remain at home, nor would I wish it." - -I did not reply. - -"You will do what I ask?" he said. - -"I would refuse you nothing, Mr. Swain," I answered. "But I have heavy -misgivings." - -He sighed. "And now, if it were not for Tom, I might die content," he -said. - -If it were not for Tom! The full burden of the trust began to dawn upon -me then. Presently I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I -hardly caught the words. - -"In our youth, Richard," he was saying, "the wrath of the Almighty is -but so many words to most of us. When I was little more than a lad, I -committed a sin of which I tremble now to think. And I was the fool to -imagine, when I amended my life, that God had forgotten. His punishment -is no heavier than I deserve. But He alone knows what He has made me -suffer." - -I felt that I had no right to be there. - -"That is why I have paid Tom's debts," he continued; "I cannot cast off -my son. I have reasoned, implored, and appealed in vain. He is like -Reuben,--his resolutions melt in an hour. And I have pondered day and -night what is to be done for him." - -"Is he to have his portion?" I asked. Indeed, the thought of the -responsibility of Tom Swain overwhelmed me. - -"Yes, he is to have it," cried Mr. Swain, with a violence to bring on a -fit of coughing. "Were I to leave it in trust for a time, he would have -it mortgaged within a year. He is to have his portion, but not a penny -additional." - -He lay for a long time breathing deeply, I watching him. Then, as he -reached out and took my hand, I knew by some instinct what was to come. -I summoned all my self-command to meet his eye. I knew that the -malicious and unthinking gossip of the town had reached him, and -that he had received it in the simple faith of his hopes. - -"One thing more, my lad," he said, "the dearest wish of all--that you -will marry Patty. She is a good girl, Richard. And I have thought," -he added with hesitation, "I have thought that she loves you, though her -lips have never opened on that subject." - -So the blow fell. I turned away, for to save my life the words would not -come. He missed the reason of my silence. - -"I understand and honour your scruples," he went on. His kindness was -like a knife. - -"No, I have had none, Mr. Swain," I exclaimed. For I would not be -thought a hypocrite. - -There I stopped. A light step sounded in the hall, and Patty came in -upon us. Her colour at once betrayed her understanding. To my infinite -relief her father dropped my fingers, and asked cheerily if there was any -news from the town meeting. - -On the following Wednesday, with her flag flying and her sails set, the -Peggy Stewart was run ashore on Windmill Point. She rose, a sacrifice to -Liberty, in smoke to heaven, before the assembled patriots of our city. - -That very night a dear friend to Liberty passed away. He failed so -suddenly that Patty had no time to call for aid, and when the mother had -been carried in, his spirit was flown. We laid him high on the hill -above the creek, in the new lot he had bought and fenced around. The -stone remains: - - HERE LIETH - - HENRY SWAIN, BARRISTER. - BORN MAY 13, 1730 (O.S.); - DIED OCTOBER 19, 1774. - Fidus Amicis atque Patrice. - -The simple inscription, which speaks volumes to those who knew him, was -cut after the Revolution. He was buried with the honours of a statesman, -which he would have been had God spared him to serve the New Country -which was born so soon after his death. - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing - - - - - -RICHARD CARVEL - -By Winston Churchill - - -Volume 8. - - -L. Farewell to Gordon's -LI. How an Idle Prophecy came to pass -LII. How the Gardener's Son fought the Serapis -LIII. In which I make Some Discoveries -LIV. More Discoveries. -LV. The Love of a Maid for a Man -LVI. How Good came out of Evil -LVII. I come to my Own again - - - -CHAPTER L - -FAREWELL TO GORDON'S - -I cannot bear to recall my misery of mind after Mr. Swain's death. -One hope had lightened all the years of my servitude. For, when I -examined my soul, I knew that it was for Dorothy I had laboured. And -every letter that came from Comyn telling me she was still free gave me -new heart for my work. By some mystic communion--I know not what--I felt -that she loved me yet, and despite distance and degree. I would wake of -a morning with the knowledge of it, and be silent for half the day with -some particle of a dream in my head, lingering like the burden of a song -with its train of memories. - -So, in the days that followed, I scarce knew myself. For a while -(I shame to write it) I avoided that sweet woman who had made my comfort -her care, whose father had taken me when I was homeless. The good in me -cried out, but the flesh rebelled. - -Poor Patty! Her grief for her father was pathetic to see. Weeks passed -in which she scarcely spoke a word. And I remember her as she sat in -church Sundays, the whiteness of her face enhanced by the crape she wore, -and a piteous appeal in her gray eyes. My own agony was nigh beyond -endurance, my will swinging like a pendulum from right to wrong, and back -again. Argue as I might that I had made the barrister no promise, -conscience allowed no difference. I was in despair at the trick fate -had played me; at the decree that of all women I must love her whose -sphere was now so far removed from mine. For Patty had character and -beauty, and every gift which goes to make man's happiness and to kindle -his affections. - -Her sorrow left her more womanly than ever. And after the first sharp -sting of it was deadened, I noticed a marked reserve in her intercourse -with me. I knew then that she must have strong suspicions of her -father's request. Speak I could not soon after the sad event, but I -strove hard that she should see no change in my conduct. - -Before Christmas we went to the Eastern Shore. In Annapolis fife and -drum had taken the place of fiddle and clarion; militia companies were -drilling in the empty streets; despatches were arriving daily from the -North; and grave gentlemen were hurrying to meetings. But if the war was -to come, I must settle what was to be done at Gordon's Pride with all -possible speed. It was only a few days after our going there, that I -rode into Oxford with a black cockade in my hat Patty had made me, and -the army sword Captain Jack had given Captain Daniel at my side. For I -had been elected a lieutenant in the Oxford company, of which Percy -Singleton was captain. - -So passed that winter, the darkest of my life. One soft spring day, when -the birds were twittering amid new-born leaves, and the hyacinths and -tulips in Patty's garden were coming to their glory, Master Tom rode -leisurely down the drive at Gordon's Pride. That was a Saturday, the -29th of April, 1775. The news which had flown southward, night and day -alike, was in no hurry to run off his tongue; he had been lolling on the -porch for half an hour before he told us of the bloodshed between the -minute-men of Massachusetts and the British regulars, of the rout of -Percy's panting redcoats from Concord to Boston. Tom added, with the -brutal nonchalance which characterized his dealings with his mother and -sister, that he was on his way to Philadelphia to join a company. - -The poor invalid was carried up the stairs in a faint by Banks and -Romney. Patty, with pale face and lips compressed, ran to fetch the -hartshorn. But Master Tom remained undisturbed. - -"I suppose you are going, Richard," he remarked affably. For he treated -me with more consideration than his family. "We shall ride together," -said he. - -"We ride different ways, and to different destinations," I replied dryly. -"I go to serve my country, and you to fight against it." - -"I think the King is right," he answered sullenly. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon," I remarked, and rose. "Then you have studied -the question since last I saw you." - -"No, by G-d!" he cried, "and I never will. I do not want to know your -d--d principles--or grievances, or whatever they are. We were living an -easy life, in the plenty of money, and nothing to complain of. You take -it all away, with your cursed cant--" - -I left him railing and swearing. And that was the last I saw of Tom -Swain. When I returned from a final survey of the plantation; and a talk -with Percy Singleton, he had ridden North again. - -I found Patty alone in the parlour. Her work (one of my own stockings -she was darning) lay idle in her lap, and in her eyes were the unshed -tears which are the greatest suffering of women. I sat down beside her -and called her name. She did not seem to hear me. - -"Patty!" - -She started. And my courage ebbed. - -"Are you going to the war--to leave us, Richard?" she faltered. - -"I fear there is no choice, Patty," I answered, striving hard to keep my -own voice steady. "But you will be well looked after. Ivie Rawlinson -is to be trusted, and Mr. Bordley has promised to keep an eye upon you." - -She took up the darning mechanically. - -"I shall not speak a word to keep you, Richard. He would have wished -it," she said softly. "And every strong arm in the colonies will be -needed. We shall think of you, and pray for you daily." - -I cast about for a cheerful reply. - -"I think when they discover how determined we are, they will revoke their -measures in a hurry. Before you know it, Patty, I shall be back again -making the rounds in my broad rim, and reading to you out of Captain -Cook." - -It was a pitiful attempt. She shook her head sadly. The tears were come -now, and she was smiling through them. The sorrow of that smile! - -"I have something to say to you before I go, Patty," I said. The words -stuck. I knew that there must be no pretence in that speech. It must be -true as my life after, the consequence of it. "I have something to ask -you, and I do not speak without your father's consent. Patty, if I -return, will you be my wife?" - -The stocking slipped unheeded to the floor. For a moment she sat -transfixed, save for the tumultuous swelling of her breast. Then she -turned and gazed earnestly into my face, and the honesty of her eyes -smote me. For the first time I could not meet them honestly with my own. - -"Richard, do you love me?" she asked. - -I bowed my head. I could not answer that. And for a while there was no -sound save that of the singing of the frogs in the distant marsh. - -Presently I knew that she was standing at my side. I felt her hand laid -upon my shoulder. - -"Is--is it Dorothy?" she said gently. - -Still I could not answer. Truly, the bitterness of life, as the joy of -it, is distilled in strong drops. - -"I knew," she continued, "I have known ever since that autumn morning -when I went to you as you saddled--when I dreaded that you would leave -us. Father asked you to marry me, the day you took Mr. Stewart from the -mob. How could you so have misunderstood me, Richard?" - -I looked up in wonder. The sweet cadence in her tone sprang from a -purity not of this earth. They alone who have consecrated their days to -others may utter it. And the light upon her face was of the same source. -It was no will of mine brought me to my feet. But I was not worthy to -touch her. - -"I shall make another prayer, beside that for your safety, Richard," she -said. - -In the morning she waved me a brave farewell from the block where she had -stood so often as I rode afield, when the dawn was in the sky. The -invalid mother sat in her chair within the door; the servants were -gathered on the lawn, and Ivie Rawlinson and Banks lingered where they -had held my stirrup. That picture is washed with my own tears. - -The earth was praising God that Sunday as I rode to Mr. Bordley's. And -as it is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven, I felt as if I were in -church. - -I arrived at Wye Island in season to dine with the good judge and his -family, and there I made over to his charge the property of Patty and her -mother. The afternoon we spent in sober talk, Mr. Bordley giving me much -sound advice, and writing me several letters of recommendation to -gentlemen in Congress. His conduct was distinguished by even more of -kindness and consideration than he had been wont to show me. - -In the evening I walked out alone, skirting the acres of Carvel Hall, -each familiar landmark touching the quick of some memory of other days. -Childhood habit drew me into the path to Wilmot House. I came upon it -just as the sunlight was stretching level across the Chesapeake, and -burning its windows molten red. I had been sitting long on the stone -steps, when the gaunt figure of McAndrews strode toward me out of the -dusk. - -"God be gude to us, it is Mr. Richard!" he cried. "I hae na seen ye're -bonny face these muckle years, sir, sync ye cam' back frae ae sight o' -the young mistress." (I had met him in Annapolis then.) "An' will ye be -aff to the wars?" - -I told him yes. That I had come for a last look at the old place before -I left. - -He sighed. "Ye're vera welcome, sir." Then he added: "Mr. Bordley's -gi'en me a fair notion o' yere management at Gordon's. The judge is -thinking there'll be nane ither lad t' hand a candle to ye." - -"And what news do you hear from London?" I asked, cutting him short. - -"Ill uncos, sir," he answered, shaking his head with violence. He had -indeed but a sorry tale for my ear, and one to make my heart heavier than -it was. McAndrews opened his mind to me, and seemed the better for it. -How Mr. Marmaduke was living with the establishment they wrote of was -more than the honest Scotchman could imagine. There was a country place -in Sussex now, said he, that was the latest. And drafts were coming in -before the wheat was in the ear; and the plantations of tobacco on the -Western Shore had been idle since the non-exportation, and were mortgaged -to their limit to Mr. Willard. Money was even loaned on the Wilmot House -estate. McAndrews had a shrewd suspicion that neither Mrs. Manners nor -Miss Dorothy knew aught of this state of affairs. - -"Mr. Richard," he said earnestly, as he bade me good-by, "I kennt Mr. -Manners's mind when he lea'd here. There was a laird in't, sir, an' a -fortune. An' unless these come soon, I'm thinking I can spae th' en'." - -In truth, a much greater fool than McAndrews might have predicted that -end. - -On Monday Judge Bordley accompanied me as far as Dingley's tavern, and -showed much emotion at parting. - -"You need have no fears for your friends at Gordon's Pride, Richard," -said he. "And when the General comes back, I shall try to give him a -good account of my stewardship." - -The General! That title brought old Stanwix's cobwebbed prophecy into my -head again. Here, surely, was the war which he had foretold, and I ready -to embark in it. - -Why not the sea, indeed? - - - -CHAPTER LI - -HOW AN IDLE PROPHECY CAME TO PASS - -Captain Clapsaddle not being at his lodgings, I rode on to the Coffee -House to put up my horse. I was stopped by Mr. Claude. - -"Why, Mr. Carvel," says he, "I thought you on the Eastern Shore. There -is a gentleman within will be mightily tickled to see you, or else his -protestations are lies, which they may very well be. His name? Now, -'Pon my faith, it was Jones--no more." - -This thing of being called for at the Coffee House stirred up unpleasant -associations. - -"What appearance does the man make?" I demanded. - -"Merciful gad!" mine host exclaimed; "once seen, never forgotten, and -once heard, never forgotten. He quotes me Thomson, and he tells me of -his estate in Virginia." - -The answer was not of a sort to allay my suspicions. - -"Then he appears to be a landowner?" said I. - -"'Ods! Blest if I know what he is," says Mr. Claude. "He may be -anything, an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to strike -the eye and hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and -thickset, and some five feet eight inches--full six inches under your -own height. And he comes asking for you as if you owned the town between -you. 'Send a fellow to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good -host!' says he, with a snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news -of you, he is prodigiously affected, and cries--but here's my gentleman -now!" - -I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend -and benefactor, Captain John Paul! - -"Ahoy, ahoy!" cries he. "Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at -last." - -Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms. - -"Hold, hold, Richard!" he gasped. "My ribs, man! Leave me some breath -that I may tell you how glad I am to see you." - -"Mr. Jones!" I said, holding him out, "now where the devil got you -that?" - -"Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you," he answered, smiling. -"My poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must -have three names at the least." - -I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter. - -"But Jones!" I cried. "'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your -imagination left you, captain?" - -"Republican simplicity, sir," says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I -laughed the more. - -"Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar," said I. "A landed -gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit -under that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket." - -He shook his head, looking up at me with affection. - -"You might have guessed better," he answered. "All of quality I have -about me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch." - -This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing in my -ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the captain's -and pulled him toward the Coffee House door. - -"Come," I said, "you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall be -merry to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the -colonies." I commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he took -his seat opposite me I marked that he had grown heavier and more browned. -But his eye had the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore. And -first I upbraided him for not having writ me. - -"I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain," said I; "and -I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you in -Mr. Orchardson's care." - -"Orchardson died before I had made one voyage," he replied, "and the -Betsy changed owners. But I did not forget you, Richard, and was -resolved but now not to leave Maryland until I had seen you. But I burn -to hear of you," he added. "I have had an inkling of your story from the -landlord. So your grandfather is dead, and that blastie, your uncle, of -whom you told me on the John, is in possession." - -He listened to my narrative keenly, but with many interruptions. And -when I was done, he sighed. - -"You are always finding friends, Richard," said he; "no matter what your -misfortunes, they are ever double discounted. As for me; I am like -Fulmer in Mr. Cumberland's 'West Indian': 'I have beat through every -quarter of the compass; I have bellowed for freedom; I have offered to -serve my country; I have'--I am engaging to betray it. No, Scotland is -no longer my country, and so I cannot betray her. It is she who has -betrayed me." - -He fell into a short mood of dejection. And, indeed, I could not but -reflect that much of the character fitted him like a jacket. Not the -betrayal of his country. He never did that, no matter how roundly they -accused him of it afterward. - -To lift him, I cried: - -"You were one of my first friends, Captain Paul" (I could not stomach the -Jones); "but for you I should now be a West Indian, and a miserable one, -the slave of some unmerciful hidalgo. Here's that I may live to repay -you!" - -"And while we are upon toasts," says he, bracing immediately, "I give you -the immortal Miss Manners! Her beauty has dwelt unfaded in my memory -since I last beheld her, aboard the Betsy." Remarking the pain in my -face, he added, with a concern which may have been comical: "And she is -not married?" - -"Unless she is lately gone to Gretna, she is not," I replied, trying to -speak lightly. - -"Alack! I knew it," he exclaimed. "And if there's any prophecy in my -bones, she'll be Mrs. Carvel one of these days." - -"Well captain," I said abruptly, "the wheel has gone around since I saw -you. Now it is you who are the gentleman, while I am a factor. Is it -the bliss you pictured?" - -I suspected that his acres were not as broad, nor his produce as salable, -as those of Mount Vernon. - -"To speak truth, I am heartily tired of that life," said he. "There is -little glory in raising nicotia, and sipping bumbo, and cursing negroes. -Ho for the sea!" he cried. "The salt sea, and the British prizes. Give -me a tight frigate that leaves a singing wake. Mark me, Richard," he -said, a restless gleam coning into his dark eyes, "stirring times are -here, and a chance for all of us to make a name." For so it seemed ever -to be with him. - -"They are black times, I fear," I answered. - -"Black!" he said. "No, glorious is your word. And we are to have an -upheaval to throw many of us to the top." - -"I would rather the quarrel were peacefully settled," said I, gravely. -"For my part, I want no distinction that is to come out of strife and -misery." - -He regarded me quizzically. - -"You are grown an hundred years old since I pulled you out of the sea," -says he. "But we shall have to fight for our liberties. Here is a glass -to the prospect!" - -"And so you are now an American?" I said curiously. - -"Ay, strake and keelson,--as good a one as though I had got my sap in the -Maine forests. A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon -modern civilization. And I have here," he continued, tapping his pocket, -"some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which -Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended. To speak truth, Richard, I am -off to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations. And I was -resolved to stop here even till I secured your company. We shall sweep -the seas together, and so let George beware!" - -I smiled. But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such a -captain. However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army, -let alone a navy. - -"And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack -either for long?" he demanded, his eye flashing. - -"Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John," I -said. - -"You were born for the sea, Richard," he exclaimed, raising his glass -high. "And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and -handiness than any merchant's mate I ever sailed with. The more -gentlemen get commissions, the better will be our new service." - -At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes -to say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me. -I persuaded John Paul to descend with me. We found Captain Daniel seated -with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase. - -"Captain," I said to my old friend, "I have a rare joy this day in making -known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you a score of -times. He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose charity took me -to London, and who got no other reward for his faith than three weeks in -a debtors' prison. For his honour, as I have told you, would allow him -to accept none, nor his principles to take the commission in the Royal -Navy which Mr. Fox offered him." - -Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure. "Faith, Mr. -Jones," he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows, -"this is well met, indeed. I have been longing these many years for a -chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and -gone to express my gratitude." - -"I have my reward now, captain," replied John Paul; "a sight of you -is to have Richard's whole life revealed. And what says Mr. Congreve? - - "'For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, - And tho' a late, a sure reward succeeds.' - -"Tho' I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous. And you, -who know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his -companionship." - -I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him -with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of -their faces. - -"Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs," I -explained. - -"And do you find it more to your taste than seafaring, Mr. Jones?" -inquired Mr. Chase. - -This brought forth a most vehement protest, and another quotation. - -"Why, sir," he cried, "to be - - 'Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, - To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,' - -is an animal's existence. I have thrown it over, sir, with a right good -will, and am now on my way to Philadelphia to obtain a commission in the -navy soon to be born." - -Mr. Chase smiled. John Paul little suspected that he was a member of the -Congress. - -"This is news indeed, Mr. Jones," he said. "I have yet to hear of the -birth of this infant navy, for which we have not yet begun to make -swaddling clothes." - -"We are not yet an infant state, sir," Mr. Carroll put in, with a shade -of rebuke. For Maryland was well content with the government she had -enjoyed, and her best patriots long after shunned the length of -secession. "I believe and pray that the King will come to his senses. -And as for the navy, it is folly. How can we hope to compete with -England on the sea?" - -"All great things must have a beginning sir," replied John Paul, -launching forth at once, nothing daunted by such cold conservatism. -"What Israelite brickmaker of Pharaoh's dreamed of Solomon's temple? -Nay, Moses himself had no conception of it. And God will send us our -pillars of cloud and of fire. We must be reconciled to our great -destiny, Mr. Carroll. No fight ever was won by man or nation content -with half a victory. We have forests to build an hundred armadas, and I -will command a fleet and it is given me." - -The gentlemen listened in astonishment. - -"I' faith, I believe you, sir," cried Captain Daniel, with admiration. - -The others, too, were somehow fallen under the spell of this remarkable -individuality. "What plan would you pursue, sir?" asked Mr. Chase, -betraying more interest than he cared to show. - -"What plan, sir!" said Captain John Paul, those wonderful eyes of his -alight. "In the first place, we Americans build the fastest ships in the -world,--yours of the Chesapeake are as fleet as any. Here, if I am not -mistaken, one hundred and eighty-two were built in the year '71. They -are idle now. To them I would issue letters of marque, to harry -England's trade. From Carolina to Maine we have the wood and iron to -build cruisers, in harbours that may not easily be got at. And skilled -masters and seamen to elude the enemy." - -"But a navy must be organized, sir. It must be an unit," objected Mr. -Carroll. "And you would not for many years have force enough, or -discipline enough, to meet England's navy." - -"I would never meet it, sir," he replied instantly. "That would be the -height of folly. I would divide our forces into small, swift-sailing -squadrons, of strength sufficient to repel his cruisers. And I would -carry the war straight into his unprotected ports of trade. I can name -a score of such defenceless places, and I know every shoal of their -harbours. For example, Whitehaven might be entered. That is a town of -fifty thousand inhabitants. The fleet of merchantmen might with the -greatest ease be destroyed, a contribution levied, and Ireland's coal cut -off for a winter. The whole of the shipping might be swept out of the -Clyde. Newcastle is another likely place, and in almost any of the Irish -ports valuable vessels may be found. The Baltic and West Indian fleets -are to be intercepted. I have reflected upon these matters for years, -gentlemen. They are perfectly feasible. And I'll warrant you cannot -conceive the havoc and consternation their fulfilment would spread in -England." - -If the divine power of genius ever made itself felt, 'twas on that May -evening, at candle-light, in the Annapolis Coffee House. With my own -eyes I witnessed two able and cautious statesmen of a cautious province -thrilled to the pitch of enthusiasm by this strange young man of eight -and twenty. As for good Captain Daniel, enthusiasm is but a poor word to -express his feelings. A map was sent for and spread out upon the table. -And it was a late hour when Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll went home, -profoundly impressed. Mr. Chase charged John Paul look him up in -Congress. - -The next morning I bade Captain Daniel a solemn good-by, and rode away -with John Paul to Baltimore. Thence we took stage to New Castle on the -Delaware, and were eventually landed by Mr. Tatlow's stage-boat at -Crooked Billet wharf, Philadelphia. - - A BRIEF SUMMARY, WHICH BRINGS THIS BIOGRAPHY TO THE FAMOUS - FIGHT OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD AND THE SERAPIS - - BY DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL - -Mr. Richard Carvel refers here to the narrative of his experiences in the -War of the Revolution, which he had written in the year 1805 or 1806. -The insertion of that account would swell this book, already too long, -out of all proportion. Hence I take it upon myself, with apologies, to -compress it. - -Not until October of that year, 1775, was the infant navy born. Mr. -Carvel was occupied in the interval in the acquirement of practical -seamanship and the theory of maritime warfare under the most competent of -instructors, John Paul Jones. An interesting side light is thrown upon -the character of that hero by the fact that, with all his supreme -confidence in his ability, he applied to Congress only for a first -lieutenancy. This was in deference to the older men before that body. -"I hoped," said he, "in that rank to gain much useful knowledge from -those of more experience than myself." His lack of assertion for once -cost him dear. He sailed on the New Providence expedition under -Commodore Hopkins as first lieutenant of the Alfred, thirty; and he soon -discovered that, instead of gaining information, he was obliged to inform -others. He trained the men so thoroughly in the use of the great guns -"that they went through the motions of broadsides and rounds exactly as -soldiers generally perform the manual exercise." - -Captain Jones was not long in fixing the attention and earning the -gratitude of the nation, and of its Commander-in-Chief, General -Washington. While in command of the Providence, twelve four-pounders, -his successful elusions of the 'Cerberus', which hounded him, and his -escape from the 'Solebay', are too famous to be dwelt upon here. -Obtaining the Alfred, he captured and brought into Boston ten thousand -suits of uniform for Washington's shivering army. Then, by the bungling -of Congress, thirteen officers were promoted over his head. The -bitterness this act engendered in the soul of one whose thirst for -distinction was as great as Captain Jones's may be imagined. To his -everlasting credit be it recorded that he remained true to the country to -which he had dedicated his life and his talents. And it was not until -1781 that he got the justice due him. - -That the rough and bluff captains of the American service should have -regarded a man of Paul Jones's type with suspicion is not surprising. -They resented his polish and accomplishments, and could not understand -his language. Perhaps it was for this reason, as well as a reward for -his brilliant services, that he was always given a separate command. In -the summer of 1777 he was singled out for the highest gift in the power -of the United States, nothing less than that of the magnificent frigate -'Indien', then building at Amsterdam. And he was ordered to France in -command of the 'Ranger', a new ship then fitting at Portsmouth. Captain -Jones was the admiration of ail the young officers in the navy, and was -immediately flooded with requests to sail with him. One of his first -acts, after receiving his command, was to apply to the Marine Committee -for Mr. Carvel. The favour was granted. - -My grandfather had earned much commendation from his superiors. He had -sailed two cruises as master's mate of the Cabot, and was then serving as -master of the Trumbull, Captain Saltonstall. This was shortly after that -frigate had captured the two British transports off New York. - -Captain Jones has been at pains to mention in his letters the services -rendered him by Mr. Carvel in fitting out the Ranger. And my grandfather -gives a striking picture of the captain. At that time the privateers, -with the larger inducements of profit they offered, were getting all the -best seamen. John Paul had but to take two turns with a man across the -dock, and he would sign papers. - -Captain Jones was the first to raise the new flag of the stars and -stripes over a man-o'-war. They got away on November 14, 1777, with a -fair crew and a poor lot of officers. Mr. Carvel had many a brush with -the mutinous first lieutenant Simpson. Family influence deterred the -captain from placing this man under arrest, and even Dr. Franklin found -trouble, some years after, in bringing about his dismissal from the -service. To add to the troubles, the Ranger proved crank and slow- -sailing; and she had only one barrel of rum aboard, which made the men -discontented. - -Bringing the official news of Burgoyne's surrender, which was to cause -King Louis to acknowledge the independence of the United States, the -Ranger arrived at Nantes, December 2. Mr. Carvel accompanied Captain -Jones to Paris, where a serious blow awaited him. The American -Commissioners informed him that the Indien had been transferred to France -to prevent her confiscation. That winter John Paul spent striving in -vain for a better ship, and imbibing tactics from the French admirals. -Incidentally, he obtained a salute for the American flag. The cruise of -the Ranger in English waters the following spring was a striking -fulfilment, with an absurdly poor and inadequate force, of the plan set -forth by John Paul Jones in the Annapolis Coffee House. His descent upon -Whitehaven spread terror and consternation broadcast through England, and -he was branded as a pirate and a traitor. Mr. Carvel was fortunately not -of the landing party on St. Mary's Isle, which place he had last beheld -in John Paul's company, on the brigantine John, when entering -Kirkcudbright. The object of that expedition, as is well known, was to -obtain the person of the Earl of Selkirk, in order to bring about the -rescue of the unfortunate Americans suffering in British prisons. After -the celebrated capture of the sloop-of-war Drake, Paul Jones returned to -France a hero. - -If Captain Jones was ambitious of personal glory, he may never, at least, -be accused of mercenary motives. The ragged crew of the Ranger was paid -in part out of his own pocket, and for a whole month he supported the -Drake's officers and men, no provision having been made for prisoners. -He was at large expense in fitting out the Ranger, and he bought back at -twice what it was worth the plate taken from St. Mary's Isle, getting but -a tardy recognition from the Earl of Selkirk for such a noble and -unheard-of action. And, I take pride in writing it, Mr. Carvel spent -much of what he had earned at Gordon's Pride in a like honourable manner. - -Mr. Carvel's description of the hero's reception at Versailles is graphic -and very humorous. For all his republican principles John Paul never got -over his love of courts, and no man was ever a more thorough courtier. -He exchanged compliments with Queen Marie Antoinette, who was then in the -bloom of her beauty, and declared that she was a "good girl, and deserved -to be happy." - -The unruly Simpson sailed for America in the Ranger in July, Captain -Jones being retained in France "for a particular enterprise." And -through the kindness of Dr. Franklin, Mr. Carvel remained with him. Then -followed another period of heartrending disappointment. The fine ship -the French government promised him was not forthcoming, though Captain -Jones wrote a volume of beautiful letters to every one of importance, -from her Royal Highness the Duchess of Chartres to his Most Christian -Majesty, Louis, King of France and Navarre. At length, when he was -sitting one day in unusual dejection and railing at the vanity of courts -and kings, Mr. Carvel approached him with a book in his hand. - -"What have you there, Richard?" the captain demanded. - -"Dr. Franklin's Maxims," replied my grandfather. They were great -favourites with him. The captain took the book and began mechanically -to turn over the pages. Suddenly he closed it with a bang, jumped up, -and put on his coat and hat. Mr. Carvel looked on in astonishment. - -"Where are you going, sir?" says he. - -"To Paris, sir," says the captain. "Dr. Franklin has taught me more -wisdom in a second than I had in all my life before. 'If you wish to -have any business faithfully and expeditiously performed, go and do it -yourself; otherwise, send.'" - -As a result of that trip he got the Duras, which he renamed the 'Bon -homme Richard' in honour of Dr. Franklin. The Duras was an ancient -Indiaman with a high poop, which made my grandfather exclaim, when he saw -her, at the remarkable fulfilment of old Stanwix's prophecy. She was -perfectly rotten, and in the constructor's opinion not worth refitting. -Her lowest deck (too low for the purpose) was pierced aft with three -ports on a side, and six worn-out eighteen-pounders mounted there. Some -of them burst in the action, killing their people. The main battery, on -the deck above, was composed of twenty-eight twelve-pounders. On the -uncovered deck eight nine-pounders were mounted. Captain Jones again -showed his desire to serve the cause by taking such a ship, and not -waiting for something better. - -In the meantime the American frigate 'Alliance' had brought Lafayette to -France, and was added to the little squadron that was to sail with the -'Bon homme Richard'. One of the most fatal mistakes Congress ever made -was to put Captain Pierre Landais in command of her, out of compliment to -the French allies. He was a man whose temper and vagaries had failed to -get him a command in his own navy. His insulting conduct and treachery -to Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's manuscript: -they were amply proved by the written statements of other officers. - -The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision -between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back -into the Groix roads for repairs. Nails and rivets were with difficulty -got to hold in the sides of the old Indianian. On August 14th John Paul -Jones again set sail for English waters, with the following vessels: -Alliance, thirty-six; Pallas, thirty; Cerf, eighteen; Vengeance, twelve; -and two French privateers. Owing to the humiliating conditions imposed -upon him by the French Minister of Marine, Commodore Jones did not have -absolute command. In a gale on the 26th the two privateers and the Cerf -parted company, never to return. After the most outrageous conduct off -the coast of Ireland, Landais, in the 'Alliance', left the squadron on -September 6th, and did not reappear until the 23d, the day of the battle. - -Mr. Carvel was the third lieutenant of the 'Bon homme Richard', tho' he -served as second in the action. Her first lieutenant (afterwards the -celebrated Commodore Richard Dale) was a magnificent man, one worthy in -every respect of the captain he served. When the hour of battle arrived, -these two and the sailing master, and a number of raw midshipmen, were -the only line-officers left, and two French officers of marines. - -The rest had been lost in various ways. And the crew of the 'Bon homme -Richard' was as sorry a lot as ever trod a deck. Less than three score -of the seamen were American born; near four score were British, inclusive -of sixteen Irish; one hundred and thirty-seven were French soldiers, who -acted as marines; and the rest of the three hundred odd souls to fight -her were from all over the earth,--Malays and Maltese and Portuguese. -In the hold were more than one hundred and fifty English prisoners. - -This was a vessel and a force, truly, with which to conquer a fifty-gun -ship of the latest type, and with a picked crew. - -Mr. Carvel's chapter opens with Landais's sudden reappearance on the -morning of the day the battle was fought. He shows the resentment and -anger against the Frenchman felt by all on board, from cabin-boy to -commodore. But none went so far as to accuse the captain of the -'Alliance' of such supreme treachery as he was to show during the action. -Cowardice may have been in part responsible for his holding aloof from -the two duels in which the Richard and the Pallas engaged. But the fact -that he poured broadsides into the Richard, and into her off side, makes -it seem probable that his motive was to sink the commodore's ship, and so -get the credit of saving the day, to the detriment of the hero who won it -despite all disasters. To account for the cry that was raised when first -she attacked the Richard, it must be borne in mind that the crew of the -'Alliance' was largely composed of Englishmen. It was thought that these -had mutinied and taken her. - - - - -CHAPTER LII - -HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE "SERAPIS" - -When I came on deck the next morning our yards were a-drip with a clammy -fog, and under it the sea was roughed by a southwest breeze. We were -standing to the northward before it. I remember reflecting as I paused -in the gangway that the day was Thursday, September the 23d, and that we -were near two months out of Groix with this tub of an Indiaman. In all -that time we had not so much as got a whiff of an English frigate, though -we had almost put a belt around the British Isles. Then straining my -eyes through the mist, I made out two white blurs of sails on our -starboard beam. - -Honest Jack Pearce, one of the few good seamen we had aboard, was rubbing -down one of the nines beside me. - -"Why, Jack," said I, "what have we there? Another prize?" For that -question had become a joke on board the 'Bon homme Richard' since the -prisoners had reached an hundred and fifty, and half our crew was gone to -man the ships. - -"Bless your 'art, no, sir," said he. "'Tis that damned Frenchy Landais -in th' Alliance. She turns up with the Pallas at six bells o' the middle -watch." - -"So he's back, is he?" - -"Ay, he's back," he returned, with a grunt that was half a growl; "arter -three weeks breakin' o' liberty. I tell 'ee what, sir, them Frenchies is -treecherous devils, an' not to be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An' -they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'. -Ez fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the round -house when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin on us -when he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen as was -there that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that the -commodore weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones be -bound up in a hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn't -punish him. Be that so, Mr. Carvel?" - -I said that it was. - -"Shiver my bulkheads!" cried Jack, "I gave my oath to that same, sir. -For I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arm an' -he had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies," said Jack, -rolling his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, "they sits on their -bottoms in Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's and -mouths, and daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers in -th' Bay o' Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into every port -in England with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o' -Frenchies, Mr. Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twould -give me the greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at that -there Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t' -my mind she couldn't be christened better, sir." - -I left him patting the gun with a tender affection. - -The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knot of -midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, and -cursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing him up -short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coasting -pilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped for Garrett -or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the first lieutenant stood -talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the French marines. The scavengers -were sweeping down, and part of the after guard was bending a new bolt- -rope on a storm staysail. - -Then the--fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter, -the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go after a -brigantine, "flying like a snow laden with English bricks," as Midshipman -Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with us that we -crane our necks to windward. - -At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten up the -fog, and the shores of England stood out boldly. Spurn Head was looming -up across our bows, while that of Flamborough jutted into the sea behind -us. I had the starboard watch piped to dinner, and reported twelve -o'clock to the commodore. And had just got permission to "make it," -according to a time-honoured custom at sea, when another "Sail, ho!" came -down from aloft. - -"Where away?" called back Mr. Linthwaite, who was midshipman of the -forecastle. - -"Starboard quarter, rounding Flamborough Head, sir. Looks like a full- -rigged ship, sir." - -I sent the messenger into the great cabin to report. He was barely out -of sight before a second cry came from the masthead: "Another sail -rounding Flamborough, sir!" - -The officers on deck hurried to the taffrail. I had my glass, but not a -dot was visible above the sea-line. The messenger was scarcely back -again when there came a third hail: "Two more rounding the head, sir! -Four in all, sir!" - -Here was excitement indeed. Without waiting for instructions, I gave the -command: - -"Up royal yards! Royal yardmen in the tops!" - -We were already swaying out of the chains, when Lieutenant Dale appeared -and asked the coasting pilot what fleet it was. He answered that it was -the Baltic fleet, under convoy of the Countess of Scarborough, twenty -guns, and the Serapis, forty-four. - -"Forty-four," repeated Mr. Dale, smiling; "that means fifty, as English -frigates are rated. We shall have our hands full this day, my lads," -said he. "You have done well to get the royals on her, Mr. Carvel." - -While he was yet speaking, three more sail were reported from aloft. -Then there was a hush on deck, and the commodore himself appeared. As he -reached the poop we saluted him and informed him of what had happened. - -"The Baltic fleet," said he, promptly. "Call away the pilotboat with Mr. -Lunt to follow the brigantine, sir, and ease off before the wind. Signal -'General Chase' to the squadron, Mr. Mayrant." - -The men had jumped to the weather braces before I gave the command, and -all the while more sail were counting from the crosstrees, until their -number had reached forty-one. The news spread over the ship; the -starboard watch trooped up with their dinners half eaten. Then a faint -booming of guns drifted down upon our ears. - -"They've got sight of us, sir," shouted the lookout. "They be firing -guns to windward, an' letting fly their topgallant sheets." - -At that the commodore hurried forward, the men falling back to the -bulwarks respectfully, and he mounted the fore-rigging as agile as any -topman, followed by his aide with a glass. From the masthead he sung out -to me to set our stu'nsails, and he remained aloft till near seven bells -of the watch. At that hour the merchantmen had all scuttled to safety -behind the head, and from the deck a great yellow King's frigate could be -plainly seen standing south to meet us, followed by her smaller consort. -Presently she hove to, and through our glasses we discerned a small boat -making for her side, and then a man clambering up her sea-ladder. - -"That be the bailiff of Scarborough, sir," said the coasting pilot, "come -to tell her cap'n 'tis Paul Jones he has to fight." - -At that moment the commodore lay down from aloft, and our hearts beat -high as he walked swiftly aft to the quarterdeck, where he paused for a -word with Mr. Dale. Meanwhile Mr. Mayrant hove out the signal for the -squadron to form line of battle. - -"Recall the pilot-boat, Mr. Carvel," said the commodore, quietly. "Then -you may beat to quarters, and I will take the ship, sir." - -"Ay, ay, sir." I raised my trumpet. "All hands clear ship for action!" - -It makes me sigh now to think of the cheer which burst from that -tatterdemalion crew. Who were they to fight the bone and sinew of the -King's navy in a rotten ship of an age gone by? And who was he, that -stood so straight upon the quarter-deck, to instil this scum with love -and worship and fervour to blind them to such odds? But the bo'suns -piped and sang out the command in fog-horn voices, the drums beat the -long roll and the fifes whistled, and the decks became suddenly alive. -Breechings were loosed and gun-tackles unlashed, rammer and sponge laid -out, and pike and pistol and cutlass placed where they would be handy -when the time came to rush the enemy's decks. The powder-monkeys tumbled -over each other in their hurry to provide cartridges, and grape and -canister and doubleheaded shot were hoisted up from below. The trimmers -rigged the splinter nettings, got out spare spars and blocks and ropes -against those that were sure to be shot away, and rolled up casks of -water to put out the fires. Tubs were filled with sand, for blood is -slippery upon the boards. The French marines, their scarlet and white -very natty in contrast to most of our ragged wharf-rats at the guns, were -mustered on poop and forecastle, and some were sent aloft to the tops to -assist the tars there to sweep the British decks with handgrenade and -musket. And, lastly, the surgeon and his mates went below to cockpit and -steerage, to make ready for the grimmest work of all. - -My own duties took me to the dark lower deck, a vile place indeed, and -reeking with the smell of tar and stale victuals. There I had charge of -the battery of old eighteens, while Mr. Dale commanded the twelves on the -middle deck. We loaded our guns with two shots apiece, though I had my -doubts about their standing such a charge, and then the men stripped -until they stood naked to the waist, waiting for the fight to begin. For -we could see nothing of what was going forward. I was pacing up and -down, for it was a task to quiet the nerves in that dingy place with the -gun-ports closed, when about three bells of the dog, Mr. Mease, the -purser, appeared on the ladder. - -"Lunt has not come back with the pilot-boat, Carvel," said he. "I have -volunteered for a battery, and am assigned to this. You are to report to -the commodore." - -I thanked him, and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. The 'Bon homme -Richard' was lumbering like a leaden ship before the wind, swaying -ponderously, her topsails flapping and her heavy blocks whacking against -the yards. And there was the commodore, erect, and with fire in his eye, -giving sharp commands to the men at the wheel. I knew at once that no -trifle had disturbed him. He wore a brand-new uniform; a blue coat with -red lapels and yellow buttons, and slashed cuffs and stand-up collar, a -red waistcoat with tawny lace, blue breeches, white silk stockings, and a -cocked hat and a sword. Into his belt were stuck two brace of pistols. - -It took some effort to realize, as I waited silently for his attention, -that this was the man of whose innermost life I had had so intimate a -view. Who had taken me to the humble cottage under Criffel, who had -poured into my ear his ambitions and his wrongs when we had sat together -in the dingy room of the Castle Yard sponging-house. Then some of those -ludicrous scenes on the road to London came up to me, for which the sky- -blue frock was responsible. And yet this commodore was not greatly -removed from him I had first beheld on the brigantine John. His -confidence in his future had not so much as wavered since that day. That -future was now not so far distant as the horizon, and he was ready to -meet it. - -"You will take charge of the battery of nines on this deck, Mr. Carvel," -said he, at length. - -"Very good, sir," I replied, and was making my way down the poop ladder, -when I heard him calling me, in a low voice, by the old name: "Richard!" - -I turned and followed him aft to the taffrail, where we were clear of the -French soldiers. The sun was hanging red over the Yorkshire Wolds, the -Head of Flamborough was in the blue shadow, and the clouds were like rose -leaves in the sky. The enemy had tacked and was standing west, with -ensign and jack and pennant flying, the level light washing his sails to -the whiteness of paper. 'Twas then I first remarked that the Alliance -had left her place in line and was sailing swiftly ahead toward the -Serapis. The commodore seemed to read my exclamation. - -"Landais means to ruin me yet, by hook or crook," said he. - -"But he can't intend to close with them," I replied. "He has not the -courage." - -"God knows what he intends," said the commodore, bitterly. "It is no -good, at all events." - -My heart bled for him. Some minutes passed that he did not speak, making -shift to raise his glass now and again, and I knew that he was gripped by -a strong emotion. "'Twas so he ever behaved when the stress was -greatest. Presently he lays down the glass on the signal-chest, fumbles -in his coat, and brings out the little gold brooch I had not set eyes on -since Dolly and he and I had stood together on the Betsy's deck. - -"When you see her, Richard, tell her that I have kept it as sacred as her -memory," he said thickly. "She will recall what I spoke of you when she -gave it me. You have been leal and true to me indeed, and many a black -hour have you tided me over since this war' began. Do you know how she -may be directed to?" he concluded, with abruptness. - -I glanced at him, surprised at the question. He was staring at the -English shore. - -"Mr. Ripley, of Lincoln's Inn, used to be Mr. Manners's lawyer," I -answered. - -He took out a little note-book and wrote that down carefully. "And now," -he continued, "God keep you, my friend. We must win, for we fight with a -rope around our necks." - -"But you, Captain Paul," I said, "is--is there no one?" - -His face took on the look of melancholy it had worn so often of late, -despite his triumphs. That look was the stamp of fate. - -"Richard," replied he, with an ineffable sadness, "I am naught but a -wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no ties, no kindred,--no -real friends, save you and Dale, and some of these honest fellows whom -I lead to slaughter. My ambition is seamed with a flaw. And all my life -I must be striving, striving, until I am laid in the grave. I know that -now, and it is you yourself who have taught me. For I have violently -broken forth from those bounds which God in His wisdom did set." - -I pressed his hand, and with bowed head went back to my station, -profoundly struck by the truth of what he had spoken. Though he fought -under the flag of freedom, the curse of the expatriated was upon his -head. - -Shortly afterward he appeared at the poop rail, straight and alert, his -eye piercing each man as it fell on him. He was the commodore once more. - -The twilight deepened, until you scarce could see your hands. There was -no sound save the cracking of the cabins and the tumbling of the blocks, -and from time to time a muttered command. An age went by before the -trimmers were sent to the lee braces, and the Richard rounded lazily to. -And a great frigate loomed out of the night beside us, half a pistolshot -away. - -"What ship is that?" came the hail, intense out of the silence. - -"I don't hear you," replied our commodore, for he had not yet got his -distance. - -Again came the hail: "What ship is that?" - -John Paul Jones leaned forward over the rail. - -"Pass the word below to the first lieutenant to begin the action, sir." - -Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the deck gave a mighty leap, -a hot wind that seemed half of flame blew across my face, and the roar -started the pain throbbing in my ears. At the same instant the screech -of shot sounded overhead, we heard the sharp crack-crack of wood rending -and splitting,--as with a great broadaxe,--and a medley of blocks and -ropes rattled to the deck with the 'thud of the falling bodies. Then, -instead of stillness, moans and shrieks from above and below, oaths and -prayers in English and French and Portuguese, and in the heathen -gibberish of the East. As the men were sponging and ramming home in the -first fury of hatred, the carpenter jumped out under the battle-lanthorn -at the main hatch, crying in a wild voice that the old eighteens had -burst, killing half their crews and blowing up the gundeck above them. -At this many of our men broke and ran for the hatches. - -"Back, back to your quarters! The first man to desert will be shot -down!" - -It was the same strange voice that had quelled the mutiny on the John, -that had awed the men of Kirkcudbright. The tackles were seized and the -guns run out once more, and fired, and served again in an agony of haste. -In the darkness shot shrieked hither and thither about us like demons, -striking everywhere, sometimes sending casks of salt water over the -nettings. Incessantly the quartermaster walked to and fro scattering -sand over the black pools that kept running, running together as the -minutes were tolled out, and the red flashes from the guns revealed faces -in a hideous contortion. One little fellow, with whom I had had many a -lively word at mess, had his arm taken off at the shoulder as he went -skipping past me with the charge under his coat, and I have but to listen -now to hear the patter of the blood on the boards as they carried him -away to the cockpit below. Out of the main hatch, from that charnel -house, rose one continuous cry. It was an odd trick of the mind or soul -that put a hymn on my lips in that dreadful hour of carnage and human -misery, when men were calling the name of their Maker in vain. But as -I ran from crew to crew, I sang over and over again a long-forgotten -Christmas carol, and with it came a fleeting memory of my mother on the -stairs at Carvel Hall, and of the negroes gathered on the lawn without. - -Suddenly, glancing up at the dim cloud of sails above, I saw that we were -aback and making sternway. We might have tossed a biscuit aboard the big -Serapis as she glided ahead of us. The broadsides thundered, and great -ragged scantlings brake from our bulwarks and flew as high as the mizzen- -top; and the shrieks and groans redoubled. Involuntarily my eyes sought -the poop, and I gave a sigh of relief at the sight of the commanding -figure in the midst of the whirling smoke. We shotted our guns with -double-headed, manned our lee braces, and gathered headway. - -"Stand by to board!" - -The boatswains' whistles trilled through the ship, pikes were seized, and -pistol and cutlass buckled on. But even as we waited with set teeth, our -bows ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For the Richard's -rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. So we backed and -filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard, himself being -aback at the time. Several of his shot crushed through the bulwarks in -front of me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half of its crew. And -it is only a miracle that I stand alive to be able to tell the tale. -Then I caught a glimpse of the quartermaster whirling the spokes of our -wheel, and over went our helm to lay us athwart the forefoot of the -'Serapis', where we might rake and rush her decks. Our old Indiaman -answered but doggedly; and the huge bowsprit of the Serapis, towering -over our heads, snapped off our spanker gaff and fouled our mizzen -rigging. - -"A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!" I heard the commodore shout, and saw -the sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead and -wounded and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up a -smeared rope's end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we found -the commodore himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with the -severed stays and shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marines -looking on. - -"Don't swear, Mr. Stacey," said he, severely; "in another minute we may -all be in eternity." - -I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the stern of -the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries into -play. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadside -into her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunching -together, the disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward to -a leeward tide in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him to -shift his crews or to fling open his starboard gun-ports. - -Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those in agony -lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlight -filtered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon the boards. -A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks. - -"Have you struck, sir?" - -The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls. - -"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight." - -Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping of -musketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there about -the decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling to -larboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of the -space between the ships. The Englishman had blown off his gun-ports. -And next some one shouted that our battery of twelves was fighting them -muzzle to muzzle below, our rammers leaning into the Serapis to send -their shot home. No chance then for the thoughts which had tortured us -in moments of suspense. That was a fearful hour, when a shot had scarce -to leap a cannon's length to find its commission; when the belches of the -English guns burned the hair of our faces; when Death was sovereign, -merciful or cruel at his pleasure. The red flashes disclosed many an act -of coolness and of heroism. I saw a French lad whip off his coat when a -gunner called for a wad, and another, who had been a scavenger, snatch -the rammer from Pearce's hands when he staggered with a grape-shot -through his chest. Poor Jack Pearce! He did not live to see the work -'Scolding Sairy' was to do that night. I had but dragged him beyond -reach of the recoil when he was gone. - -Then a cry came floating down from aloft. Thrice did I hear it, like one -waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. "The Alliance! The -Alliance!" But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout the -ship, when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aft -forward. "She rakes us! She rakes us!" And the French soldiers tumbled -headlong down from the poop with a wail of "Les Anglais font prise!" -"Her Englishmen have taken her, and turned her guns against us!" Our -captain was left standing alone beside the staff where the stars and -stripes waved black in the moonlight. - -"The Alliance is hauling off, sir!" called the midshipman of the mizzen- -top. "She is making for the Pallas and the Countess of Scarborough." - -"Very good, sir," was all the commodore said. - -To us hearkening for his answer his voice betrayed no sign of dismay. -Seven times, I say, was that battle lost, and seven times regained again. -What was it kept the crews at their quarters and the officers at their -posts through that hell of flame and shot, when a madman could scarce -have hoped for victory? What but the knowledge that somewhere in the -swirl above us was still that unswerving and indomitable man who swept -all obstacles from before him, and into whose mind the thought of defeat -could not enter. His spirit held us to our task, for flesh and blood -might not have endured alone. - -We had now but one of our starboard nine-pounders on its carriage, and -word came from below that our battery of twelves was all but knocked to -scrap iron, and their ports blown into one yawning gap. Indeed, we did -not have to be told that sides and stanchions had been carried away, for -the deck trembled and teetered under us as we dragged 'Scolding Sairy' -from her stand in the larboard waist, clearing a lane for her between the -bodies. Our feet slipped and slipped as we hove, and burning bits of -sails and splinters dropping from aloft fell unheeded on our heads and -shoulders. With the energy of desperation I was bending to the pull, -when the Malay in front of me sank dead across the tackle. But, ere I -could touch him, he was tenderly lifted aside, and a familiar figure -seized the rope where the dead man's hands had warmed it. Truly, the -commodore was everywhere that night. - -"Down to the surgeon with you, Richard!" he cried. "I will look to the -battery." - -Dazed, I put my hand to my hair to find it warm and wringing wet. When I -had been hit, I knew not. But I shook my head, for the very notion of -that cockpit turned my stomach. The blood was streaming from a gash in -his own temple, to which he gave no heed, and stood encouraging that -panting line until at last the gun was got across and hooked to the ring- -bolts of its companion that lay shattered there. "Serve her with double- -headed, my lads," he shouted, "and every shot into the Englishman's -mainmast!" - -"Ay, ay, sir," came the answer from every man of that little remnant. - -The Serapis, too, was now beginning to blaze aloft, and choking wood- -smoke eddied out of the Richard's hold and mingled with the powder fumes. -Then the enemy's fire abreast us seemed to lull, and Mr. Stacey mounted -the bulwarks, and cried out: "You have cleared their decks, my hearties!" -Aloft, a man was seen to clamber from our mainyard into the very top of -the Englishman, where he threw a hand-grenade, as I thought, down her -main hatch. An instant after an explosion came like a, clap of thunder -in our faces, and a great quadrant of light flashed as high as the -'Serapis's' trucks, and through a breach in her bulwarks I saw men -running with only the collars of their shirts upon their naked bodies. - -'Twas at this critical moment, when that fearful battle once more was -won, another storm of grape brought the spars about our heads, and that -name which we dreaded most of all was spread again. As we halted in -consternation, a dozen round shot ripped through our unengaged side, and -a babel of voices hailed the treacherous Landais with oaths and -imprecations. We made out the Alliance with a full head of canvas, black -and sharp, between us and the moon. Smoke hung above her rail. Getting -over against the signal fires blazing on Flamborough Head, she wore ship -and stood across our bows, the midshipman on the forecastle singing out -to her, by the commodore's orders, to lay the enemy by the board. There -was no response. - -"Do you hear us?" yelled Mr. Linthwaite. - -"Ay, ay," came the reply; and with it the smoke broke from her and the -grape and canister swept our forecastle. Then the Alliance sailed away, -leaving brave Mr. Caswell among the many Landais had murdered. - -The ominous clank of the chain pumps beat a sort of prelude to what -happened next. The gunner burst out of the hatch with blood running down -his face, shouting that the Richard was sinking, and yelling for quarter -as he made for the ensign-staff on the poop, for the flag was shot away. -Him the commodore felled with a pistol-butt. At the gunner's heels were -the hundred and fifty prisoners we had taken, released by the master at -arms. They swarmed out of the bowels of the ship like a horde of -Tartars, unkempt and wild and desperate with fear, until I thought that -the added weight on the scarce-supported deck would land us all in the -bilges. Words fail me when I come to describe the frightful panic of -these creatures, frenzied by the instinct of self-preservation. They -surged hither and thither as angry seas driven into a pocket of a storm- -swept coast. They trampled rough-shod over the moaning heaps of wounded -and dying, and crowded the crews at the guns, who were powerless before -their numbers. Some fought like maniacs, and others flung themselves -into the sea. - -Those of us who had clung to hope lost it then. Standing with my back to -the mast, beating them off with a pike, visions of an English prison- -ship, of an English gallows, came before me. I counted the seconds until -the enemy's seamen would be pouring through our ragged ports. The -seventh and last time, and we were beaten, for we had not men enough left -on our two decks to force them down again. Yes,--I shame to confess it, ---the heart went clean out of me, and with that the pain pulsed and -leaped in my head like a devil unbound. At a turn of the hand I should -have sunk to the boards, had not a voice risen strong and clear above -that turmoil, compelling every man to halt trembling in his steps. - -"Cast off, cast off! 'The Serapis' is sinking. To the pumps, ye fools, -if you would save your lives!" - -That unerring genius of the gardener's son had struck the only chord! - -They were like sheep before us as we beat them back into the reeking -hatches, and soon the pumps were heard bumping with a renewed and a -desperate vigour. Then, all at once, the towering mainmast of the enemy -cracked and tottered and swung this way and that on its loosened shrouds. -The first intense silence of the battle followed, in the midst of which -came a cry from our top: - -"Their captain is hauling down, sir!" - -The sound which broke from our men could scarce be called a cheer. That -which they felt as they sank exhausted on the blood of their comrades may -not have been elation. My own feeling was of unmixed wonder as I gazed -at a calm profile above me, sharp-cut against the moon. - -I was moved as out of a revery by the sight of Dale swinging across to -the Serapis by the main brace pennant. Calling on some of my boarders, I -scaled our bulwarks and leaped fairly into the middle of the gangway of -the Serapis. - -Such is nearly all of my remembrance of that momentous occasion. I had -caught the one glimpse of our first lieutenant in converse with their -captain and another officer, when a naked seaman came charging at me. He -had raised a pike above his shoulder ere I knew what he was about, and my -senses left me. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -IN WHICH I MAKE SOME DISCOVERIES - -The room had a prodigious sense of change about it. That came over me -with something of a shock, since the moment before I had it settled that -I was in Marlboro' Street. The bare branches swaying in the wind outside -should belong to the trees in Freshwater Lane. But beyond the branches -were houses, the like of which I had no remembrance of in Annapolis. And -then my grandfather should be sitting in that window. Surely, he was -there! He moved! He was coming toward me to say: "Richard, you are -forgiven," and to brush his eyes with his ruffles. - -Then there was the bed-canopy, the pleatings of which were gone, and it -was turned white instead of the old blue. And the chimney-place! That -was unaccountably smaller, and glowed with a sea-coal fire. And the -mantel was now but a bit of a shelf, and held many things that seemed -scarce at home on the rough and painted wood,--gold filigree; and China -and Japan, and a French clock that ought not to have been just there. -Ah, the teacups! Here at last was something to touch a fibre of my -brain, but a pain came with the effort of memory. So my eyes went back -to my grandfather in the window. His face was now become black as -Scipio's, and he wore a red turban and a striped cotton gown that was too -large for him. And he was sewing. This was monstrous! - -I hurried over to the tea-cups, such a twinge did that discovery give me. -But they troubled me near as much, and the sea-coal fire held strange -images. The fascination in the window was not to be denied, for it stood -in line with the houses and the trees. Suddenly there rose up before me -a gate. Yes, I knew that gate, and the girlish figure leaning over it. -They were in Prince George Street. Behind them was a mass of golden-rose -bushes, and out of these came forth a black face under a turban, saying, -"Yes, mistis, I'se comin'." - -"Mammy--Mammy Lucy!" - -The figure in the window stirred, and the sewing fell its ample lap. - -"Now Lawd'a mercy!" - -I trembled--with a violence unspeakable. Was this but one more of those -thousand voices, harsh and gentle, rough and tender, to which I had -listened in vain this age past? The black face was hovering over me now, -and in an agony of apprehension I reached up and felt its honest -roughness. Then I could have wept for joy. - -"Mammy Lucy!" - -"Yes, Marse Dick?" - -"Where--where is Miss Dolly?" - -"Now, Marse Dick, doctah done say you not t' talk, suh." - -"Where is Miss Dolly?" I cried, seizing her arm. - -"Hush, Marse Dick. Miss Dolly'll come terectly, suh. She's lyin' down, -suh." - -The door creaked, and in my eagerness I tried to lift myself. 'Twas Aunt -Lucy's hand that restrained me, and the next face I saw was that of -Dorothy's mother. But why did it appear so old and sorrow-lined? And -why was the hair now of a whiteness with the lace of the cap? She took -my fingers in her own, and asked me anxiously if I felt any pain. - -"Where am I, Mrs. Manners?" - -"You are in London, Richard." - -"In Arlington Street?" - -She shook her head sadly. "No, my dear, not in Arlington Street. But -you are not to talk." - -"And Dorothy? May I not see Dorothy? Aunt Lucy tells me she is here." - -Mrs. Manners gave the old mammy a glance of reproof, a signal that -alarmed me vastly. - -"Oh, tell me, Mrs. Manners! You will speak the truth. Tell me if she is -gone away?" - -"My dear boy, she is here, and under this very roof. And you shall see -her as soon as Dr. Barry will permit. Which will not be soon," she added -with a smile, "if you persist in this conduct." - -The threat had the desired effect. And Mrs. Manners quietly left the -room, and after a while as quietly came back again and sat down by the -fire, whispering to Aunt Lucy. - -Fate, in some inexplicable way, had carried me into the enemy's country -and made me the guest of Mr. Marmaduke Manners. As I lay staring upward, -odd little bits of the past came floating to the top of my mind, -presently to be pieced together. The injuries Mr. Marmaduke had done me -were the first to collect, since I was searching for the cause of my -resentment against him. The incidents arrived haphazard as magic -lanthorn views, but very vivid. His denial of me before Mr. Dix, and his -treachery at Vauxhall, when he had sent me to be murdered. Next I felt -myself clutching the skin over his ribs in Arlington Street, when I had -flung him across the room in his yellow night-gown. That brought me to -the most painful scene of my life, when I had parted with Dorothy at the -top of the stairs. Afterward followed scraps of the years at Gordon's -Pride, and on top of them the talk with McAndrews. Here was the secret -I sought. The crash had come. And they were no longer in Mayfair, but -must have taken a house in some poorer part of London. This thought cast -me down tremendously. - -And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I -fell asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot -House; of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping through -pleasant fields and gardens. - -When I awoke it was broad day once more. A gentleman sat on the edge of -my bed. He had a queer, short face, ruddy as the harvest moon, and he -smiled good-humouredly when I opened my eyes. - -"I bid you good morning, Mr. Carvel, for the first time since I have made -your acquaintance," said he. "And how do you feel, sir?" - -"I have never felt better in my life," I replied, which was the whole -truth. - -"Well, vastly well," says he, laughing, "prodigious well for a young man -who has as many holes in him as have you. Do you hear him, Mrs. -Manners?" - -At that last word, I popped up to look about the room, and the doctor -caught hold of me with ludicrous haste. A pain shot through my body. - -"Avast, avast, my hearty," cries he. "'Tis a miracle you can speak, -let alone carry your bed and walk for a while yet." And he turned to -Dorothy's mother, whom I beheld smiling at me. "You will give him the -physic, ma'am, at the hours I have chosen. Egad, I begin to think we -shall come through. - -"But pray remember, ma'am, if he talks, you are to put a wad in his -mouth." - -"He shall have no opportunity to talk, Dr. Barry," said Mrs. Manners. - -"Save for a favour I have to ask you, doctor," I cried. - -"'Od's bodkins! Already, sir? And what may that be?" - -"That you will allow me to see Miss Manners." - -He shook with laughter, and then winked at me very roguishly. - -"Oh!" says he, "and faith, I should be worse than cruel. First she -comes imploring me to see you, and so prettily that a man of oak could -not refuse her. And now it is you begging to see her. Had your eyes -been opened, sir, you might have had many a glimpse of Miss Dolly these -three weeks past." - -"What! She has been watching with me?" I asked, in a rapture not to be -expressed. - -"'Od's, but those are secrets. And the medical profession is close- -mouthed, Mr. Carvel. So you want to see her? No," cries he, "'tis not -needful to swear it on the Evangels. And I let her come in, will you -give me your honour as a gentleman not to speak more than two words to -her?" - -"I promise anything, and you will not deny me looking at her," said I. - -He shook again, all over. "You rascal! You sad dog, sir! No, sir, -faith, you must shut your eyes. Eh, madam, must he not shut his eyes?" - -"They were playmates, doctor," answers Mrs. Manners. She was laughing a -little, too. - -"Well, she shall come in. But remember that I shall have my ear to the -keyhole, and you go beyond your promise, out she's whisked. So I caution -you not to spend rashly those two words, sir." - -And he followed Mrs. Manners out of the room, frowning and shaking his -fist at me in mock fierceness. I would have died for the man. For a -space--a prodigious long space--I lay very still, my heart bumping like a -gun-carriage broke loose, and my eyes riveted on the crack of the door. -Then I caught the sound of a light footstep, the knob turned, and joy -poured into my soul with the sweep of a Fundy tide. - -"Dorothy!" I cried. "Dorothy!" - -She put her finger to her lips. - -"There, sir," said she, "now you have spoken them both at once!" - -She closed the door softly behind her, and stood looking down upon me -with such a wondrous love-light in her eyes as no man may describe. -My fancy had not lifted me within its compass, my dreams even had not -imagined it. And the fire from which it sprang does not burn in humbler -souls. So she stood gazing, those lips which once had been the seat of -pride now parted in a smile of infinite tenderness. But her head she -still held high, and her body straight. Down the front of her dress fell -a tucked apron of the whitest linen, and in her hand was a cup of -steaming broth. - -"You are to take this, Richard," she commanded. And added, with a touch -of her old mischief, "Mind, sir, if I hear a sound out of you, I am to -disappear like the fairy godmother." - -I knew full well she meant it, and the terror of losing her kept me -silent. She put down the cup, placed another pillow behind my head with -a marvellous deftness, and then began feeding me in dainty spoonfuls -something which was surely nectar. And mine eyes, too, had their feast. -Never before had I seen my lady in this gentle guise, this task of -nursing the sick, which her doing raised to a queenly art. - -Her face had changed some. Years of trial unknown to me had left an -ennobling mark upon her features, increasing their power an hundred fold. -And the levity of girlish years was gone. How I burned to question her! -But her lips were now tight closed, her glance now and anon seeking mine, -and then falling with an exquisite droop to the coverlet. For the old -archness, at least, would never be eradicated. Presently, after she had -taken the cup and smoothed my pillow, I reached out for her hand. It was -a boldness of which I had not believed myself capable; but she did not -resist, and even, as I thought, pressed my fingers with her own slender -ones, the red of our Maryland holly blushing in her cheeks. And what -need of words, indeed! Our thoughts, too, flew coursing hand in hand -through primrose paths, and the angels themselves were not to be envied. - -A master might picture my happiness, waking and sleeping, through the -short winter days that came and went like flashes of gray light. The -memory of them is that of a figure tall and lithe, a little more rounded -than of yore, and a chiselled face softened by a power that is one of the -world's mysteries. Dorothy had looked the lady in rags, and housewife's -cap and apron became her as well as silks or brocades. When for any -reason she was absent from my side, I moped, to the quiet amusement of -Mrs. Manners and the more boisterous delight of Aunt Lucy, who took her -turn sewing in the window. I was near to forgetting the use of words, -until at length, one rare morning when the sun poured in, the jolly -doctor dressed my wounds with more despatch than common, and vouchsafed -that I might talk awhile that day. - -"Oh!" cries he, putting me as ever to confusion, "but I have a guess -whom my gentleman will be wishing to talk with. But I'll warrant, sir, -you have said a deal more than I have any notion of without opening your -lips." - -And be went away, intolerably pleased with his joke. - -Alas for the perversity of maiden natures! It was not my dear nurse who -brought my broth that morning, but Mrs. Manners herself. She smiled at -my fallen face, and took a chair at my bedside. - -"Now, my dear boy," she said, "you may ask what questions you choose, and -I will tell you very briefly how you have come here." - -"I have been thinking, Mrs. Manners," I replied, "that if it were known -that you harboured one of John Paul Jones's officers in London, very -serious trouble might follow for you." - -I thought her brow clouded a little. - -"No one knows of it, Richard, or is likely to. Dr. Barry, like so many -in England, is a good Whig and friend to America. And you are in a part -of London far removed from Mayfair." She hesitated, and then continued -in a voice that strove to be lighter: "This little house is in Charlotte -Street, Mary-le-Bone, for the war has made all of us suffer some. And we -are more fortunate than many, for we are very comfortable here, and -though I say it, happier than in Arlington Street. And the best of our -friends are still faithful. Mr. Fox, with all his greatness, has never -deserted us, nor my Lord Comyn. Indeed, we owe them much more than I can -tell you of now," she said, and sighed. "They are here every day of the -world to inquire for you, and it was his Lordship brought you out of -Holland." - -And so I had reason once more to bless this stanch friend! - -"Out of Holland?" I cried. - -"Yes. One morning as we sat down to breakfast, Mr. Ripley's clerk -brought in a letter for Dorothy. But I must say first that Mr. Dulany, -who is in London, told us that you were with John Paul Jones. You can -have no conception, Richard, of the fear and hatred that name has aroused -in England. Insurance rates have gone up past belief, and the King's -ships are cruising in every direction after the traitor and pirate, as -they call him. We have prayed daily for your safety, and Dorothy--well, -here is the letter she received. It had been opened by the inspector, -and allowed to pass. And it is to be kept as a curiosity." She drew it -from the pocket of her apron and began to read. - - "THE TEXEL, October 3, 1779 - - "MY DEAR Miss DOROTHY: I would not be thought to flutter y'r Gentle - Bosom with Needless Alarms, nor do I believe I have misjudged y'r - Warm & Generous Nature when I write you that One who is held very - High in y'r Esteem lies Exceeding Ill at this Place, who might by - Tender Nursing regain his Health. I seize this Opportunity to say, - my dear Lady, that I have ever held my too Brief Acquaintance with - you in London as one of the Sacred Associations of my Life. From - the Little I saw of you then I feel Sure that this Appeal will not - pass in Vain. I remain y'r most Humble and Devoted Admirer, - - "JAMES ORCHARDSON." - - -"And she knew it was from Commodore Jones?" I asked, in astonishment. - -"My dear," replied Mrs. Manners, with a quiet smile, "we women have a -keener instinct than men--though I believe your commodore has a woman's -intuition. Yes, Dorothy knew. And I shall never forget the fright she -gave me as she rose from the table and handed me the sheet to read, -crying but the one word. She sent off to Brook Street for Lord Comyn, -who came at once, and, in half an hour the dear fellow was set out for -Dover. He waited for nothing, since war with Holland was looked for at -any day. And his Lordship himself will tell you about that rescue. -Within the week he had brought you to us. Your skull had been trepanned, -you had this great hole in your thigh, and your heart was beating but -slowly. By Mr. Fox's advice we sent for Dr. Barry, who is a skilled -surgeon, and a discreet man despite his manner. And you have been here -for better than three weeks, Richard, hanging between life and death." - -"And I owe my life to you and to Dorothy," I said, - -"To Lord Comyn and Dr. Barry, rather," she replied quickly. "We have -done little but keep the life they saved. And I thank God it was given -me to do it for the son of your mother and father." - -Something of the debt I owed them was forced upon me. - -They were poor, doubtless driven to make ends meet, and yet they had -taken me in, called upon near the undivided services of an able surgeon, -and worn themselves out with nursing me. Nor did I forget the risk they -ran with such a guest. For the first time in many years my heart -relented toward Mr. Marmaduke. For their sakes I forgave him over and -over what I had suffered, and my treatment of him lay like a weight upon -me. And how was I to repay them? They needed the money I had cost them, -of that I was sure. After the sums I had expended to aid the commodore -with the 'Ranger' and the 'Bon homme Richard', I had scarce a farthing to -my name. With such leaden reflections was I occupied when I heard Mrs. -Manners speaking to me. - -"Richard, I have some news for you which the doctor thinks you can bear -to-day. Mr. Dulany, who is exiled like the rest of us, brought them. It -is a great happiness to be able to tell you, my dear, that you are now -the master of Carvel Hall, and like to stay so." - -The tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. And the enormity of those -tidings, coming as they did on the top of my dejection, benumbed me. -All they meant was yet far away from my grasp, but the one supreme result -that was first up to me brought me near to fainting in my weakness. - -"I would not raise your hopes unduly, Richard," the good lady was saying, -"but the best informed here seem to think that England cannot push the -war much farther. If the Colonies win, you are secure in your title." - -"But how is it come about, Mrs. Manners?" I demanded, with my first -breath. - -"You doubtless have heard that before the Declaration was signed at -Philadelphia your Uncle Grafton went to the committee at Annapolis and -contributed to the patriot cause, and took very promptly the oath of the -Associated Freemen of Maryland, thus forsaking the loyalist party--" - -"Yes, yes," I interrupted, "I heard of it when I was on the Cabot. He -thought his property in danger." - -"Just so," said Mrs. Manners, laughing; "he became the best and most -exemplary of patriots, even as he had been the best of Tories. He sent -wheat and money to the army, and went about bemoaning that his only son -fought under the English flag. But very little fighting has Philip done, -my dear. Well, when the big British fleet sailed up the bay in '77, your -precious uncle made the first false step in his long career of rascality. -He began to correspond with the British at Philadelphia, and one of his -letters was captured near the Head of Elk. A squad was sent to the Kent -estate, where he had been living, to arrest him, but he made his escape -to New York. And his lands were at once confiscated by the state." - -"'Then they belong to the state," I said, with misgiving. - -"Not so fast, Richard. At the last session of the Maryland Legislature -a bill was introduced, through the influence of Mr. Bordley and others, -to restore them to you, their rightful owner. And insomuch as you were -even then serving the country faithfully and bravely, and had a clean and -honourable record of service, the whole of the lands were given to you. -And now, my dear, you have had excitement enough for one day." - - - - -CHAPTER LIV - -MORE DISCOVERIES - -All that morning I pondered over the devious lane of my life, which had -led up to so fair a garden. And one thing above all kept turning and -turning in my head, until I thought I should die of waiting for its -fulfilment. Now was I free to ask Dorothy to marry me, to promise her -the ease and comfort that had once been hers, should God bring us safe -back to Maryland. The change in her was little less than a marvel to me, -when I remembered the wilful miss who had come to London bent upon -pleasure alone. Truly, she was of that rare metal which refines, and -then outshines all others. And there was much I could not understand. -A miracle had saved her from the Duke of Chartersea, but why she had -refused so many great men and good was beyond my comprehension. Not a -glimpse of her did I get that day, though my eyes wandered little from -the knob of the door. And even from Aunt Lucy no satisfaction was to be -had as to the cause of her absence. - -"'Clare to goodness, Marse Dick," said she, with great solemnity, "'clare -to goodness, I'se nursed Miss Dolly since she was dat high, and neber one -minnit obher life is I knowed what de Chile gwine t' do de next. She -ain't neber yit done what I calcelated on." - -The next morning, after the doctor had dressed my wounds and bantered me -to his heart's content, enters Mr. Marmaduke Manners. I was prodigiously -struck by the change in him, and pitied him then near as much as I had -once despised him. He was arrayed in finery, as of old. But the finery -was some thing shabby; the lace was frayed at the edges, there was a neat -but obvious patch in his small-clothes, and two more in his coat. His -air was what distressed me most of all, being that of a man who spends -his days seeking favours and getting none. I had seen too many of the -type not to know the sign of it. - -He ran forward and gave me his hand, which I grasped as heartily as my -weakness would permit. - -"They would not let me see you until to-day, my dear Richard," he -exclaimed. "I bid you welcome to what is left of our home. 'Tis not -Arlington Street, my lad." - -"But more of a home than was that grander house, Mr. Manners." - -He sighed heavily. - -"Alas!" said he, "poverty is a bitter draught, and we have drunk deep of -it since last we beheld you. My great friends know me no more, and will -not take my note for a shilling. They do not remember the dinners and -suppers I gave them. Faith, this war has brought nothing but misery, -and how we are to get through it, God knows!" - -Now I understood it was not the war, but Mr. Marmaduke himself, which had -carried his family to this pass. And some of my old resentment -rekindled. - -"I know that I have brought you great additional anxiety and expense, -Mr. Manners," I answered somewhat testily. "The care I have been to Mrs. -Manners and Dorothy I may never repay. But it gives me pleasure to feel, -sir, that I am in a position to reimburse you, and likewise to loan you -something until your lands begin to pay again." - -"There the Carvel speaks," he cried, "and the true son of our generous -province. You can have no conception of the misfortunes come to me out -of this quarrel. The mortgages on my Western Shore tobacco lands are -foreclosed, and Wilmot House itself is all but gone. You well know, of -course, that I would do the same by you, Richard." - -I smiled, but more in sadness than amusement. Hardship had only degraded -Mr. Marmaduke the more, and even in trouble his memory was convenient as -is that of most people in prosperity. I was of no mind to jog his -recollection. But I wanted badly to ask about his Grace. Where had my -fine nobleman been at the critical point of his friend's misfortunes? -For I had had many a wakeful night over that same query since my talk -with McAndrews. - -"So you have come to your own again, Richard, my lad," said Mr. -Marmaduke, breaking in upon my train. "I have felt for you deeply, and -talked many a night with Margaret and Dorothy over the wrong done you. -Between you and me," he whispered, "that uncle of yours is an arrant -knave, whom the patriots have served with justice. To speak truth, sir, -I begin myself to have a little leaning to that cause which you have so -bravely espoused." - -This time I was close to laughing outright. But he was far too serious -to remark my mirth. He commenced once more, with an ahem, which gave me -a better inkling than frankness of what bothered him. - -"You will have an agent here, Richard, I take it," said he. "Your -grandfather had one. Ahem! Doubtless this agent will advance you all -you shall have need of, when you are well enough to see him. Fact is, -he might come here." - -"You forget, Mr. Manners, that I am a pirate and an outlaw, and that you -are the shielder of such." - -That thought shook the pinch of Holland he held all over him. But he -recovered. - -"My dear Richard, men of business are of no faction and of no nation. -Their motto is discretion. And to obtain the factorship in London of a -like estate to yours one of them would wear a plaster over his mouth, -I'll warrant you. You have but to summon one of the rascals, promise him -a bit of war interest, and he will leave you as much as you desire, and -nothing spoken." - -"To talk plainly, Mr. Manners," I replied, "I think 'twould be the height -of folly to resort to such means. When I am better, we shall see what -can be done." - -His face plainly showed his disappointment. - -"To be sure," he said, in a whining tone, "I had forgotten your friends, -Lord Comyn and Mr. Fox. They may do something for you, now you own your -estate. My dear sir, I dislike to say aught against any man. Mrs. -Manners will tell you of their kindness to us, but I vow I have not been -able to see it. With all the money at their command they will not loan -me a penny in my pressing need. And I shame to say it, my own daughter -prevents me from obtaining the money to keep us out of the Fleet. I know -she has spoken to Dulany. Think of it, Richard, my own daughter, upon -whom I lavished all when I had it, who might have made a score of grand -matches when I gave her the opportunity, and now we had all been rolling -in wealth. I'll be sworn I don't comprehend her, nor her mother either, -who abets her. For they prefer to cook Maryland dainties for a living, -to put in the hands of the footmen of the ladies whose houses they once -visited. And how much of that money do you suppose I get, sir? Will you -believe it that I" (he was shrieking now), "that I, the man of the -family, am allowed only my simple meals, a farthing for snuff, and not a -groat for chaise-hire? At my age I am obliged to walk to and from their -lordships' side entrances in patched clothes, egad, when a new suit might -obtain us a handsome year's income!" - -I turned my face to the wall, completely overcome, and the tears scalding -in my eyes, at the thought of Dorothy and her mother bending over the -stove cooking delicacies for their livelihood, and watching at my bedside -night and day despite their weariness of body. And not a word out of -these noble women of their sacrifice, nor of the shame and trouble and -labour of their lives, who always had been used to every luxury! Nothing -but cheer had they brought to the sickroom, and not a sign of their -poverty and hardship, for they knew that their broths and biscuit and -jellies must have choked me. No. It remained for this contemptible -cur of a husband and father to open my eyes. - -He had risen when I had brought myself to look at him. And as I hope for -heaven he took my emotion for pity of himself. - -"I have worried you enough for one day with my troubles, my lad," said -he. "But they are very hard to bear, and once in a while it does me good -to speak of them." - -I did not trust myself to reply. - -It was Aunt Lucy who spent the morning with me, and Mrs. Manners brought -my dinner. I observed a questioning glance as she entered, which I took -for an attempt to read whether Mr. Marmaduke had spoke more than he -ought. But I would have bitten off my tongue rather than tell her of my -discoveries, though perhaps my voice may have betrayed an added concern. -She stayed to talk on the progress of the war, relating the gallant -storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony in July, and the latest Tory -insurrection on our own Eastern Shore. She passed from these matters to -a discussion of General Washington's new policy of the defensive, for -Mrs. Manners had always been at heart a patriot. And whilst I lay -listening with a deep interest, in comes my lady herself. So was it -ever, when you least expected her, even as Mammy had said. She curtseyed -very prettily, with her chin tilted back and her cheeks red, and asked me -how I did. - -"And where have you been these days gone, Miss Will-o'the-Wisp, since the -doctor has given me back my tongue?" I cried. - -"I like you better when you are asleep," says she. "For then you are -sometimes witty, though I doubt not the wit is other people's." - -So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night. For I -slept like a trooper after a day's forage. As to what I might have said -in my dreams--that thought made me red as an apple. - -"Dorothy, Dorothy," says her mother, smiling, "you would provoke a -saint." - -"Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner," replies the minx, with -a little face at me. "Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of an -audience from your Excellency." - -"A gentleman!" - -"Even so. He presents a warrant from your Excellency's physician." - -With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her. And who should -come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn? He made one rush at me, -and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear's hug. - -"Oh, Richard," cried he, when he had released me, "I give you my oath -that I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there. -But they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that -now. 'Tis love is curing you, my lad." - -He held me off at arm's length, the old-time affection beaming from his -handsome face. - -"What am I to say to you, Jack?" I answered. And my voice was all but -gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of -the legion I owed him. "How am I to piece words enough together to thank -you for this supreme act of charity?" - -"'Od's, you may thank your own devilish thick head," said my Lord Comyn. -"I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her. Had -it not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out -of that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?" - -I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail. - -"And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have -done her?" I said. - -He laughed, and pinched me playfully. - -"Now are you coming to your senses," said he. "There was cursed little -to the enterprise, Richard, and that's the truth. I got down to Dover, -and persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam. That -was not so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe -enough in the Texel. In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped, -and set off at the devil's pace for the Texel. You must know that the -whole Dutch nation was in an uproar--as much of an uproar as those boors -ever reach--over the arrival of your infamous squadron. The Court Party -and our ambassador were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans -for making you at home. I heard that their High Mightinesses had given -Paul Jones the use of the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners, -and thither I ran. And I was even cursing the French sentry at the -drawbridge in his own tongue, when up comes your commodore himself. -You may quarter me if wasn't knocked off my feet when I recognized the -identical peacock of a sea-captain we had pulled out of Castle Yard -along with you, and offered a commission in the Royal Navy." - -"Dolly hadn't told you?" - -"Dolly tell me!" exclaimed his Lordship, scornfully. "She was in a state -to tell me nothing the morning I left, save only to bring you to England -alive, and repeat it over and over. But to return to your captain,--he, -too, was taken all aback. But presently he whipt out my name, and I his, -without the Jones. And when I told him my errand, he wept on my neck, -and said he had obtained unlimited leave of absence for you from the -Paris commissioners. He took me up into a private room in the fort, -where you were; and the surgeon, who was there at the time, said that -your chances were as slim as any man's he had ever seen. Faith, you -looked it, my lad. At sight of your face I took one big gulp, for I had -no notion of getting you back to her. And rather than come without you, -and look into her eyes, I would have drowned myself in the Straits of -Dover. - -"Despite the host of troubles he had on his hands, your commodore himself -came with us to Rotterdam. Now I protest I love that man, who has more -humanity in him than most of the virtuous people in England who call him -hard names. If you could have seen him leaning over you, and speaking to -you, and feeling every minute for your heart-beats, egad, you would have -cried. And when I took you off to the schooner, he gave me an hundred -directions how to care for you, and then his sorrow bowled him all in a -heap." - -"And is the commodore still at the Texel?" I asked, after a space. - -"Ay, that he is, with our English cruisers thick as gulls outside' -waiting for a dead fish. But he has spurned the French commission they -have offered him, saying that of the Congress is good enough for him. -And he declares openly that when he gets ready he will sail out in the -Alliance under the Stars and Stripes. And for this I honour him," added -he, "and Charles honours him, and so must all Englishmen honour him when -they come to their senses. And by Gads life, I believe he will get -clear, for he is a marvel at seamanship." - -"I pray with all my heart that he may," said I, fervently. - -"God help him if they catch him!" my Lord exclaimed. "You should see -the bloody piratical portraits they are scattering over London." - -"Has the risk you ran getting me into England ever occurred to you, -Jack?" I asked, with some curiosity. - -"Faith, not until the day after we got back, Richard," says he, "when I -met Mr. Attorney General on the street. 'Sdeath, I turned and ran the -other way like the devil was after me. For Charles Fox vows that -conscience makes cowards of the best of us." - -"So that is some of Charles's wisdom!" I cried, and laughed until I was -forced to stop from pain. - -"Come, my hearty," says Jack, "you owe me nothing for fishing you out of -Holland--that is her debt. But I declare that you must one day pay me -for saving her for you. What! have I not always sworn that she loved -you? Did I not pull you into the coffee-room of the Star and Garter -years ago, and tell you that same?" - -My face warmed, though I said nothing. - -"Oh, you sly dog! I'll warrant there has been many a tender talk just -where I'm sitting." - -"Not one," said I. - -"'Slife, then, what have you been doing," he cries, "seeing her every day -and not asking her to marry you, my master of Carvel Hall?" - -"Since I am permitted to use my tongue, she has not come near me, save -when I slept," I answered ruefully. - -"Nor will she, I'll be sworn," says he, shaken with laughter. - -"'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her -unawares." - -I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me. - -"And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard," he said, in another -tone, "I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how -these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined -of her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her -to take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook -Street without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself -by the sight of her devotion." - -What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it! - -"When the crash came," he continued, "'twas she took command, and 'tis -God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed to -the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only snuff- -money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another debt, and -even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she receive -aught from us, but" (he glanced at me uneasily)--"but she and Mrs. -Manners must take to cooking delicacies-" - -"Yes, yes, I know," I faltered. - -"What! has the puppy told you?" cried he. - -I nodded. "He was in here this morning, with his woes." - -"And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend, -his Grace of Chartersea?" - -"He tried to sell her again?" I cried, my breath catching. "I have -feared as much since I heard of their misfortunes." - -"Yes," replied Comyn, "that was the first of it. 'Twas while they were -still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew. -Mr. Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside -the duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street -for the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then, -Charles having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea -the whole of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And -when the servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts -him. - -"'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she. - -"He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When -she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke, -who was trotting after. - -"'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say is -for his Grace's ear alone.' - -"Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard," my -Lord concluded, "but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For -in a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he has -never darkened the door since. And the cream of it is," said Comyn, -"that her father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me -to sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence." - -"And stranger confidants," I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of -Courtenay's letter, long ago. - -But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The -picture in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very -words she must have used were ringing in my ears. - -Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty voice -cried out: - -"Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in -this house. 'Slife, I must have at him!" - -"Mr. Fox!" I exclaimed. - -He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me. - -"For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles," said he. - -I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye -was caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They -were frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with -some new grandeur come upon the man. - -"Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?" I -cried. - -He smiled, with his old boyish smile. - -"You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to -Holland House--do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?" - -"Remember it!" I repeated, with emphasis, "I'll warrant I can give you -every bit of our talk." - -"I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most -damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so -blunt and uncompromising. But you took my fancy--God knows why!--that -first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you -when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have -not forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the -grass. Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!" he said, and -sighed. - -"And yet you were a Junior Lord," I said. - -"Which is more than I am now," he answered. "Somehow--you may laugh-- -somehow I have never been able to shake off the influence of your words, -Richard. Your cursed earnestness scared me." - -"Scared you?" I cried, in astonishment. - -"Just that," said Charles. "Jack will bear witness that I have said -so to Dolly a score of times. For I had never imagined such a single -character as yours. You know we were all of us rakes at fifteen, -to whom everything good in the universe was a joke. And do you recall -the teamster we met by the Park, and how he arrested his salute when he -saw who it was? At another time I should have laughed over that, but it -cut me to have it happen when you were along." - -"And I'll lay an hundred guineas to a farthing the fellow would put his -head on the block for Charles now," cut in his Lordship, with his hand on -Mr. Fox's shoulder. "Behold, O Prophet," he cried, "one who is become -the champion of the People he reviled! Behold the friend of Rebellion -and 'Lese Majeste', the viper in Britannia's bosom!" - -"Oh, have done, Jack," said Mr. Fox, impatiently, "you have no more music -in your soul than a cow. Damned little virtue attaches to it, Richard," -he went on. "North threw me out, and the king would have nothing to do -with me, so I had to pick up with you rebels and traitors." - -"You will not believe him, Richard," cried my Lord; "you have only to -look at him to see that he lies. Take note of the ragged uniform of the -rebel army he carries, and then think of him 'en petite maitre', with his -cabriolet and his chestnuts. Egad, he might be as rich as Rigby were it -not for those principles which he chooses to deride. And I have seen him -reduced to a crown for them. I tell you, Richard," said my Lord, "by -espousing your cause Charles is become greater than the King. For he -has the hearts of the English people, which George has not, and the -allegiance of you Americans, which George will never have. And if you -once heard him, in Parliament, you should hear him now, and see the -Speaker wagging his wig like a man bewitched, and hear friends and -enemies calling out for him to go on whenever he gives the sign of a -pause." - -This speech of his Lordship's may seem cold in the writing, my dears, -and you who did not know him may wonder at it. It had its birth in an -admiration few men receive, and which in Charles Fox's devoted coterie -was dangerously near to idolatry. During the recital of it Charles -walked to the window, and there stood looking out upon the gray prospect, -seemingly paying but little attention. But when Comyn had finished, he -wheeled on us with a smile. - -"Egad, he will be telling you next that I have renounced the devil and -all his works, Richard," said he. - -"'Oohs, that I will not," his Lordship made haste to declare. "For they -were born in him, and will die with him." - -"And you, Jack," I asked, "how is it that you are not in arms for the -King, and commanding one of his frigates?" - -"Why, it is Charles's fault," said my Lord, smiling. "Were it not for -him I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast -towns." - - - - -CHAPTER LV - -"THE LOVE OF A MAID FOR A MAN" - -The next morning, when Dr. Barry had gone, Mrs. Manners propped me up in -bed and left me for a little, so she said. Then who should come in with -my breakfast on a tray but my lady herself, looking so fresh and -beautiful that she startled me vastly. - -"A penny for your thoughts, Richard," she cried. "Why, you are as grave -as a screech-owl this brave morning." - -"To speak truth, Dolly," said I, "I was wondering how the commodore is -to get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait -outside." - -"Do not worry your head about that," said she, setting down the tray; "it -will be mere child's play to him. Oh but I should like to see your -commodore again, and tell him how much I love him. - -"I pray that you may have the chance," I replied. - -With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not -so much as looking at the knot. Then she stepped to the mantel and took -down one of Mr. Wedgwood's cups and dishes, and wiping them with her -apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her -eyes sparkling. - -"Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service," says -she, with a curtsey. - -I was as a man without a tongue, my hunger gone from sheer happiness--and -fright. And yet eating the breakfast with a relish because she had made -it. She busied herself about the room, dusting here and tidying there, -and anon throwing a glance at me to see if I needed anything. My eyes -followed her hither and thither. When I had finished, she undid the -napkin, and brushed the crumbs from the coverlet. - -"You are not going?" I said, with dismay. - -"Did you wish anything more, sir?" she asked. - -"Oh, Dorothy," I cried, "it is you I want, and you will not come near -me." - -For an instant she stood irresolute. Then she put down the tray and came -over beside me. - -"Do you really want me, sir?" - -"Dorothy," I began, "I must first tell you that I have some guess at the -sacrifice you are making for my sake, and of the trouble and danger which -I bring you." - -Without more ado she put her hand over my mouth. - -"No," she said, reddening, "you shall tell me nothing of the sort." - -I seized her hand, however it struggled, and holding it fast, continued: - -"And I have learned that you have been watching with me by night, and -working by day, when you never should have worked at all. To think that -you should be reduced to that, and I not know it!" - -Her eyes sought mine for a fleeting second. - -"Why, you silly boy, I have made a fortune out of my cookery. And fame, -too, for now am I known from Mary-le-bone to Chelsea, while before my -name was unheard of out of little Mayfair. Indeed, I would not have -missed the experience for a lady-in-waiting-ship. I have learned a deal -since I saw you last, sir. I know that the world, like our Continental -money, must not be taken for the price that is stamped upon it. And as -for the watching with you," said my lady, "that had to be borne with as -cheerfully as might be. Since I had sent off for you, I was in duty -bound to do my share toward your recovery. I was even going to add -that this watching was a pleasure,--our curate says the sense of duty -performed is sure to be. But you used to cry out the most terrifying -things to frighten me: the pattering of blood and the bumping of bodies -on the decks, and the black rivulets that ran and ran and ran and never -stopped; and strange, rough commands I could not understand; and the name -of your commodore whom you love so much. And often you would repeat over -and over: 'I have not yet begun, to fight, I have not yet begun to -fight!'" - -"Yes, 'twas that he answered when they asked him if he had struck," -I exclaimed. - -"It must have been an awful scene," she said, and her shoulders quivered. -"When you were at your worst you would talk of it, and sometimes of what -happened to you in London, of that ride in Hyde Park, or--or of -Vauxhall," she continued hurriedly. "And when I could bear it no longer, -I would take your hand and call you by name, and often quiet you thus." - -"And did I speak of aught else?" I asked eagerly. - -"Oh, yes. When you were caliper, it would be of your childhood, of your -grandfather and your birthdays, of Captain Clapsaddle, and of Patty and -her father." - -"And never of Dolly, I suppose." - -She turned away her head. - -"And never of Dolly?" - -"I will tell you what you said once, Richard," she answered, her voice -dropping very low. "I was sitting by the window there, and the dawn was -coining. And suddenly I heard you cry: 'Patty, when I return will you be -my wife?' I got up and came to your side, and you said it again, twice." - -The room was very still. And the vision of Patty in the parlour of -Gordon's Pride, knitting my woollen stocking, rose before me. - -"Yes," I said at length, "I asked her that the day before I left for the -war. God bless her! She has the warmest heart in the world, and the -most generous nature. Do you know what her answer was, Dorothy?" - -"No." 'Twas only her lips moving that formed the word. She was twisting -absently the tassel of the bed curtain. - -"She asked me if I loved her." - -My lady glanced up with a start, then looked me searchingly through and -through. - -"And you?" she said, in the same inaudible way. - -"I could answer nothing. 'Twas because of her father's dying wish I -asked her, and she guessed that same. I would not tell her a lie, for -only the one woman lives whom I love, and whom I have loved ever since -we were children together among the strawberries. Need I say that that -woman is you, Dorothy? I loved you before we sailed to Carvel Hall -between my grandfather's knees, and I will love you till death claims -me." - -Then it seemed as if my heart had stopped beating. But the snowy apron -upon her breast fluttered like a sail stirring in the wind, her head was -high, and her eyes were far away. Even my voice sounded in the distance -as I continued: - -"Will you be the mistress of Carvel Hall, Dorothy? Hallowed is the day -that I can ask it." - -What of this earth may excel in sweetness the surrender of that proud and -noble nature! And her words, my dears, shall be sacred to you, too, who -are descended from her. She bent forward a little, those deep blue eyes -gazing full into my own with a fondness to make me tremble. - -"Dear Richard," she said, "I believe I have loved you always. If I have -been wilful and wicked, I have suffered more than you know--even as I -have made you suffer." - -"And now our suffering is over, Dorothy." - -"Oh, don't say that, my dear!" she cried, "but let us rather make a -prayer to God." - -Down she got on her knees close beside me, and I took both of her hands -between my own. But presently I sought for a riband that was around my -neck, and drew out a locket. Within it were pressed those lilies of the -valley I had picked for her long years gone by on my birthday. And she -smiled, though the tears shone like dewdrops on her lashes. - -"When Jack brought you to us for dead, we did not take it off, dear," -she said gently. "I wept with sorrow and joy at sight of it, for I -remembered you as you were when you picked those flowers, and how lightly -I had thought of leaving you as I wound them into my hair. And then, -when I had gone aboard the 'Annapolis', I knew all at once that I would -have given anything to stay, and I thought my heart would break when we -left the Severn cliffs behind. But that, sir, has been a secret until -this day," she added, smiling archly through her tears. - -She took out one of the withered flowers, and then as caressingly put it -back beside the others, and closed the locket. - -"I forbade Dr. Barry to take it off, Richard, when you lay so white and -still. I knew then that you had been true to me, despite what I had -heard. And if you were to die--" her voice broke a little as she passed -her hand over my brow, "if you were to die, my single comfort would have -been that you wore it then." - -"And you heard rumours of me, Dorothy?" - -"George Worthington and others told me how ably you managed Mr. Swain's -affairs, and that you had become of some weight with the thinking men of -the province. Richard, I was proud to think that you had the courage to -laugh at disaster and to become a factor. I believe," she said shyly, -"twas that put the cooking into my head, and gave me courage. And when -I heard that Patty was to marry you, Heaven is my witness that I tried to -be reconciled and think it for the best. Through my own fault I had lost -you, and I knew well she would make you a better wife than I." - -"And you would not even let Jack speak for me!" - -"Dear Jack!" she cried; "were it not for Jack we should not be here, -Richard." - -"Indeed, Dolly, two people could scarce fall deeper in debt to another -than are you and I to my Lord Viscount," I answered, with feeling. "His -honesty and loyalty to us both saved you for me at the very outset." - -"Yes," she replied thoughtfully, "I believed you dead. And I should have -married him, I think. For Dr. Courtenay had sent me that piece from the -Gazette telling of the duel between you over Patty Swain--" - -"Dr. Courtenay sent you that!" I interrupted. - -"I was a wild young creature then, my dear, with little beside vanity -under my cap. And the notion that you could admire and love any girl but -me was beyond endurance. Then his Lordship arrived in England, brimming -with praise of you, to assure me that the affair was not about Patty at -all. This was far from making me satisfied that you were not in love -with her, and I may say now that I was miserable. Then, as we were -setting out for Castle Howard, came the news of your death on the road -to Upper Marlboro. I could not go a step. Poor Jack, he was very honest -when he proposed," she added, with a sigh. - -"He loved you, Dorothy." - -She did not hear me, so deep was she in thought. - -"'Twas he who gave me news of you, when I was starving at Gordon's." - -"And I--I starved, too, Richard," she answered softly. "Dearest, I slid -very wrong. There are some matters that must be spoken of between us, -whatever the pain they give. And my heart aches now when I think of that -dark day in Arlington Street when I gave you the locket, and you went out -of my life. I knew that I had done wrong then, Richard, as soon as ever -the door closed behind you. I should have gone with you, for better for -worse, for richer for poorer. I should have run after you in the rain -and thrown myself at your feet. And that would have been best for my -father and for me." - -She covered her face with her hands, and her words were stifled by a sob. - -"Dorothy, Dorothy!" I cried, drawing her to me. "Another time. Not now, -when we are so happy." - -"Now, and never again, dear," she said. "Yes, I saw and heard all that -passed in the drawing-room. And I did not blame, but praised you for it. -I have never spoken a word beyond necessity to my father since. God -forgive me!" she cried, "but I have despised him from that hour. When -I knew that he had plotted to sell me to that detestable brute, working -upon me to save his honour, of which he has not the smallest spark; that -he had recognized and denied you, friendless before our house, and sent -you into the darkness at Vauxhall to be murdered, then he was no father -of mine. I would that you might know what my mother has suffered from -such a man, Richard." - -"My dear, I have often pitied her from my soul," I said. - -"And now I shall tell you something of the story of the Duke of -Chartersea," she went on, and I felt her tremble as she spoke that name. -"I think of all we have Lord Comyn to thank for, next to saving your life -twice, was his telling you of the danger I ran. And, Richard, after -refusing you that day on the balcony over the Park, I had no hope left. -You may thank your own nobility and courage that you remained in London -after that. Richard," she said, "do you recall my asking you in the -coach, on the way from Castle Yard, for the exact day you met my father -in Arlington Street?" - -"Yes," I replied, in some excitement, "yes." For I was at last to come -at the bottom of this affair. - -"The duke had made a formal offer for me when first we came to London. -I think my father wrote of that to Dr. Courtenay." (I smiled at the -recollection, now.) "Then his Grace persisted in following me -everywhere, and vowed publicly that he would marry me. I ordered him -from our house, since my father would not. At last one afternoon he came -back to dine with us, insolent to excess. I left the table. He sat with -my father two hours or more, drinking and singing, and giving orders to -the servants. I shut my door, that I might not hear. After a while my -mother came up to me, crying, saying that Mr. Manners would be branded -with dishonour and I did not consent to marry his Grace,--a most terrible -dishonour, of which she could not speak. That the duke had given my -father a month to win my consent. And that month was up, Richard, the -very afternoon you appeared with Mr. Dix in Arlington Street." - -"And you agreed to marry him, Dolly?" I asked breathlessly. - -"By the grace of Heaven, I did not," she answered quickly. "The utmost -that I would consent to was a two months' respite, promising to give my -hand to no one in that interval. And so I was forced to refuse you, -Richard. You must have seen even then that I loved you, dear, though -I was so cruel when you spoke of saving me from his Grace. I could not -bear to think that you knew of any stain upon our family. I think--I -think I would rather have died, or have married him. That day I threw -Chartersea's presents out of the window, but my father made the servants -gather them all which escaped breaking, and put them in the drawing-room. -Then I fell ill." - -She was silent, I clinging to her, and shuddering to think how near I had -been to losing her. - -"It was Jack who came to cheer me," I said presently. - -"His faith in you was never shaken, sweetheart. But I went to Newmarket -and Ampthill, and behaved like the ingrate I was. I richly deserved the -scolding he had for me when I got back to town, which sent me running to -Arlington Street. There I met Dr. James coming out, who asked me if I -was Mr. Carvel, and told me that you had called my name." - -"And, you goose, you never suspected," says she, smiling. - -"How was I to suspect that you loved a provincial booby like me, when -you had the choice of so many accomplished gentlemen with titles and -estates?" - -"How were you to perceive, indeed, that you had qualities which they -lacked?" - -"And you were forever vowing that you would marry a nobleman, my lady. -For you said to me once that I should call you so, and ride in the coach -with the coroneted panels when I came home on a visit." - -"And I said, too," retorted Dolly, with mischief in her eyes, "do you -remember what I told you the New Year's eve when we sat out by the -sundial at Carvel Hall, when I was so proud of having fixed Dr. -Courtenay's attentions? I said that I should never marry you, sir, who -was so rough and masterful, and thrashed every lad that did not agree -with you." - -"Alas, so you did, and a deal more!" I exclaimed. - -With that she broke away from me and, getting to her feet, made me a low -curtsey with the grace that was hers alone. - -"You are my Lord and my King, sir," she said, "and my rough Patriot -squire, all in one." - -"Are you happy, Dolly?" I asked, tremulous from my own joy. - -"I have never been happy in all my life before, Richard dear," she said. - -In truth, she was a being transformed, and more wondrous fair than ever. -And even then I pictured her in the brave gowns and jewels I would buy -her when times were mended, when our dear country would be free. All at -once, ere I could draw a breath, she had stooped and kissed me ever so -lightly on the forehead. - -The door opened upon Aunt Lucy. She had but to look at us, and her black -face beamed at our blushes. My lady threw her arms about her neck, and -hid her face in the ample bosom. - -"Now praise de good Lawd!" cried Mammy; "I knowed it dis longest time. -What's I done tole you, Miss Dolly? What's I done tole you, honey?" - -But my lady flew from the room. Presently I heard the spinet playing -softly, and the words of that air came out of my heart from long ago. - - "Love me little, love me long, - Is the burthen of my song. - Love that is too hot and strong - Burneth soon to waste. - Still, I would not have thee cold, - Nor too backward, nor too bold. - Love that lasteth till 'tis old - Fadeth not in haste." - - - - -CHAPTER LVI - -HOW GOOD CAME OUT OF EVIL - -'Twas about candlelight when I awoke, and Dorothy was sitting alone -beside me. Her fingers were resting upon my arm, and she greeted me with -a smile all tenderness. - -"And does my Lord feel better after--after his excitement to-day?" she -asked. - -"Dorothy, you have made me a whole man again. I could walk to Windsor -and back." - -"You must have your dinner, or your supper first, sir," she answered -gayly, "and do you rest quiet until I come back to feed you. Oh, Richard -dear," she cried, "how delightful that you should be the helpless one, -and dependent on me!" - -As I lay listening for the rustle of her gown, the minutes dragged -eternally. Every word and gesture of the morning passed before my mind, -and the touch of her lips still burned on my forehead. At last, when I -was getting fairly restless, the distant tones of a voice, deep and -reverberating, smote upon my ear, jarring painfully some long-forgotten -chord. That voice belonged to but one man alive, and yet I could not -name him. Even as I strained, the tones drew nearer, and they were mixed -with sweeter ones I knew well, and Dorothy's mother's voice. Whilst I -was still searching, the door opened, the voices fell calm, and Dorothy -came in bearing a candle in each hand. As she set them down on the -table, I saw an agitation in her face, which she strove to hide as she -addressed me. - -"Will you see a visitor, Richard?" - -"A visitor!" I repeated, with misgiving. 'Twas not so she had announced -Comyn. - -"Will you see Mr. Allen?"-- - -"Mr. Allen, who was the rector of St. Anne's? Mr. Allen in London, and -here?" - -"Yes." Her breath seemed to catch at the word. "He says he must see -you, dear, and will not be denied. How he discovered you were with us -I know not." - -"See him!" I cried. "And I had but the half of my strength I would -fling him downstairs, and into the kennel. Will you tell him so for me, -Dorothy?" - -And I raised up in bed, shaken with anger against the man. In a trice -she was holding me, fearfully. - -"Richard, Richard, you will open your wound. I pray you be quiet." - -"And Mr. Allen has the impudence to ask to see me!" - -"Listen, Richard. Your anger makes you forget many things. Remember -that he is a dangerous man, and now that he knows you are in London he -holds your liberty, perhaps your life, in his hands." - -It was true. And not mine alone, but the lives and liberty of others. - -"Do you know what he wishes, Dorothy?" - -"No, he will not tell us. But he is greatly excited, and says he must -see you at once, for your own good. For your own good, Richard!" - -"I do not trust the villain, but he may come in," I said, at length. - -She gave me the one lingering, anxious look, and opened the door. - -Never had I beheld such a change in mortal man as there was in Mr. Allen, -my old tutor, and rector of St. Anne's. And 'twas a baffling, intangible -change. 'Twas as if the mask bad been torn from his face, for he was now -just a plain adventurer that need not have imposed upon a soul. The -coarse wine and coarse food of the lower coffee-houses of London had -replaced the rich and abundant fare of Maryland. The next day was become -one of the terrors of his life. His clothes were of poor stuff, but -aimed at the fashion. And yet--and yet, as I looked upon him, a -something was in his face to puzzle me entirely. I had seen many stamps -of men, but this thing I could not recognize. - -He stepped forward with all of his old confidence, and did not regard a -farthing my cold stare. - -"'Tis like gone days to see you again, Richard," he cried. "And I -perceive you have as ever fallen into the best of hands." - -"I am Mr. Carvel to my enemies, if they must speak to me at all," I said. - -"But, my dear fellow, I am not your enemy, or I should not be here this -day. And presently I shall prove that same." He took snuff. "But first -I must congratulate you on coming alive out of that great battle off -Flamborough. You look as though you had been very near to death, my lad. -A deal nearer than I should care to get." - -What to say to the man! What to do save to knock him down, and I could -not do that. - -"There can be no passing the time of day between you and me, Mr. Allen," -I answered hotly. "You, whose machinations have come as near to ruining -me as a man's can." - -"And that was your own fault, my dear sir," said he, as he brushed -himself. "You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very -dear to men in my position." - -My head swam. Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with -something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes. With -a "by your leave, ma'am," to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me. - -"You have but to call me when you wish, Richard," said she. - -"Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not -hear," I said instantly. "And you will do me a favour to remain." - -She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised -his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of God he -kept his mouth shut. - -"And now, Mr. Allen," I said, "to what do I owe the pain of this visit?" - -"The pain!" he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit -of laughter. "By the mass! your politeness drowns me. But I like you, -Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal straight- -dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else. For I have -seen a deal of rogues in my day." - -"And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen." - -"So they have," he cried, and laughed the more. "Egad, Miss Dorothy, -you have saved all of him, I think." Then he swung round upon me, very -careless. "Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, -Richard?" he asked. - -That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her -chair. - -"Grafton Carvel in London?" I exclaimed. - -"Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, -I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, -and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army. -They arrived, before yesterday, from New York." - -"And to what is this an introduction?" I demanded. - -"I merely thought it strange," said Mr. Allen, imperturbably, "that he -had not called to inquire after his nephew's health." - -Dolly was staring at him, with eyes wide open. - -"And pray, how did he discover I was in London, sir?" I said. "I was -about to ask how you knew of it, but that is one and the same thing." - -He shot at me a look not to be solved. - -"It is not well to bite the hand that lifts you out of the fire, -Richard," said he. - -"You had not gained admission to this house were I not on my back, Mr. -Allen." - -"And that same circumstance is a blessing for you," he cried. - -'Twas then I saw Dorothy making me mute signals of appeal. - -"I cannot think why you are here, Mr. Allen," I said. "When you consider -all the harm you have done me, and all the double-dealing I may lay at -your door, can you blame me for my feelings?" - -"No," he answered, with more soberness than he had yet used; "I honour -you for them. And perchance I am here to atone for some of that harm. -For I like you, my lad, and that's God's truth." - -"All this is neither here nor there, Mr. Allen," I exclaimed, wholly out -of patience. "If you have come with a message, let me have it. If not, -I beg you get out of my sight, for I have neither the will nor the desire -for palavering." - -"Oh, Richard, do keep your temper!" implored Dorothy. "Can you not see -that Mr. Allen desires to do us--to do you--a service?" - -"Of that I am not so sure," I replied. - -"It is his way, Miss Manners," said the rector, "and I hold it not -against him. To speak truth, I looked for a worse reception, and came -steeled to withstand it. And had my skin been thin, I had left ere now." -He took more snuff. "It was Mr. Dix," he said to me slowly, "who -informed Mr. Carvel of your presence in London." - -"And how the devil did Mr. Dix know?" - -He did not reply, but glanced apprehensively at Dorothy. - -And I have wondered since at his consideration. - -"Miss Manners may not wish to hear," he said uneasily. - -"Miss Manners hears all that concerns me," I answered. - -He shrugged his shoulders in comprehension. - -"It was Mr. Manners, then, who went to Mr. Dix, and told him under the -pledge of secrecy." - -Not a sound came from Dorothy, nor did I dare to look at her face. The -whole matter was clear to me now. After his conversation with me, Mr. -Marmaduke had lost no time in seeing Mr. Dix, in order to raise money on -my prospects. And the man of business had gone straight to Grafton with -the intelligence. The suspicion flashed through me that Mr. Allen had -been sent to spy, but his very next words disarmed it. - -"And now, Richard," he continued, "before I say what I have come to say, -and since you cannot now prosecute me, I mean to confess to you something -which you probably know almost to a certainty. I was in the plot to -carry you off and deprive you of your fortune. I have been paid for it, -though not very handsomely. Fears for my own safety alone kept me from -telling you and Mr. Swain. And I swear to you that I was sorry for the -venture almost before I had embarked, and ere I had received a shilling. -The scheme was laid out before I took you for a pupil; indeed, that was -part of it, as you no doubt have guessed. As God hears me, I learned to -love you, Richard, in those days at the rectory. You were all of a man, -and such an one as I might have hoped to be had I been born like you. -You said what you chose, and spoke from your own convictions, and catered -to no one. You did not whine when the luck went against you, but lost -like a gentleman, and thought no more of it. You had no fear of the -devil himself. Why should you? While your cousin Philip, with his -parrot talk and sneaking ways, turned my stomach. I was sick of him, -and sick of Grafton, I tell you. But dread of your uncle drove me on, -and I had debts to frighten me." - -He paused. "Twas with a strange medley of emotions I looked at him. And -Dorothy, too, was leaning forward, her lips parted and her eyes riveted -upon his face. - -"Oh, I am speaking the truth," he said bitterly. "And I assume no virtue -for the little justice it remains in my power to do. It is the lot of my -life that I must be false to some one always, and even now I am false to -your uncle. Yes, I am come to do justice, and 'tis a strange errand for -me. I know that estates have been restored to you by the Maryland -Legislature, Richard, and I believe in my heart that you will win this -war." Here he fetched a memorandum from his pocket. "But to make you -secure," said he, "in the year 1710, and on the 9th of March, old style, -your great-grandfather, Mr. George Carvel, drew up a document entailing -the lands of Carvel Hall. By this they legally pass to you." - -"The family settlement Mr. Swain suspected!" I exclaimed. - -"Just so," he answered. - -"And what am I to pay for this information?" I asked. - -Hardly were the words spoken, when Dorothy ran to my bedside, and seizing -my hand, faced him. - -"He--he is not well, Mr. Allen," she cried. - -The rector had risen, and stood gazing down at us with the whole of his -life written on his face. That look was fearful to see, and all of hell -was expressed therein. For what is hell if it is not hope dead and -buried, and galling regret for what might have been? With mine own great -happiness so contrasted against his torture, my heart melted. - -"I am not well, indeed, Mr. Allen," I said. "God knows how hard it is -for me to forgive, but I forgive you this night." - -One brief instant he stared at me, and then tumbled suddenly down into -his chair, his head falling forward on his arms. And the long sobs by -which his frame was shaken awed our very souls. Dorothy drew back -against me, clasping my shoulder, the tears wet upon her cheeks. What -we looked on, there in the candlelight, was the Revelation itself. - -How long it, endured none of us might say. And when at last he raised -his face, it was haggard and worn in truth, but the evil of it seemed to -have fled. Again and again he strove to speak. The words would not -obey. And when he had mastered himself, his voice was shattered and -gone. - -"Richard, I have sinned heavily in my time, and preached God's holy word -with a sneer and unbelief in my heart. He knows what I have suffered, -and what I shall yet suffer before His judgment comes for us all. But I -beg it is no sin to pray to Him for your happiness and Miss Dorothy's." - -He stumbled there, and paused, and then continued with more steadiness: - -"I came here to-night to betray you, and might have gone hence to your -uncle to claim my pieces of silver. I remain to tell you that Grafton -has an appointment at nine with his Majesty's chief Secretary of State. -I need not mention his motives, nor dwell upon your peril. For the -King's sentiments toward Paul Jones are well known. You must leave -London without delay, and so must Mr. Manners and his family." - -Is it the generations which decide? When I remember bow Dorothy behaved -that night, I think so. Scarce had the rector ceased when she had -released me and was standing erect before him. Pity was in her eyes, -but in her face that courage which danger itself begets in heroic women. - -"You have acted a noble part this day, Mr. Allen," she said, "to atone -for the wrongs you have done Richard. May God forgive you, and make you -happier than you have been!" - -He struggled to his feet, listening as to a benediction. Then, with a -single glance to give me confidence, she was gone. And for a minute -there was silence between us. - -"How may you be directed to?" I asked. - -He leaped as out of a trance. - -"Just 'the world,' Richard," said he. "For I am adrift again, and not -very like to find a harbour, now." - -"You were to have been paid for this, Mr. Allen," I replied. "And a man -must live." - -"A man must live!" he cried. "The devil coined that line, and made it -some men's history." - -"I have you on my conscience, Mr. Allen," I went on, "for I have been at -fault as well as you. I might have treated you better, even as you have -said. And I command you to assign a place in London whence you may be -reached." - -"A letter to the Mitre coffee-house will be delivered," he said. - -"You shall receive it," I answered. "And now I bid you good-by, and -thank you." - -He seized and held my hand. Then walked blindly to the door and turned -abruptly. - -"I do not tell you that I shall change my life, Richard, for I have said -that too many times before. Indeed, I warn you that any money you may -send will be spent in drink, and--and worse. I will be no hypocrite to -you. But I believe that I am better this hour than I have been since -last I knelt at my mother's knee in the little Oxfordshire cottage where -I was born." - -When Dorothy returned to me, there was neither haste in her step nor -excitement in her voice. Her very coolness inspired me. - -"Do you feel strong enough for a journey, Richard?" she asked. - -"To the world's end, Dolly, if you will but go with me." - -She smiled faintly. "I have sent off for my Lord and Mr. Fox, and pray -that one of them may be here presently." - -Scarcely greater were the visible signs of apprehension upon Mrs. -Manners. Her first care, and Dorothy's, was to catechise me most -particularly on my state. And whilst they were so occupied Mr. Marmaduke -entered, wholly frenzied from fright, and utterly oblivious to his own -blame in the matter. He was sent out again directly. After that, with -Aunt Lucy to assist, they hurriedly packed what few things might be -taken. The costly relics of Arlington Street were untouched, and the -French clock was left on the mantel to tick all the night, and for days -to come, in a silent and forsaken room; or perhaps to greet impassively -the King's officers when they broke in at the door. But I caught my lady -in the act of wrapping up the Wedgwood cups and dishes. - -In the midst of these preparations Mr. Fox was heard without, and was met -at the door by Dorothy. Two sentences sufficed her to tell him what had -occurred, and two seconds for this man of action to make his decision. - -"In an hour you shall have travelling chaises here, Dorothy," he said. -"You must go to Portsmouth, and take ship for Lisbon. And if Jack does -not arrive, I will go with you." - -"No, Charles, you must not!" she cried, her emotion conquering her for -the nonce. "That might be to ruin your career, and perchance to lose -your life. And suppose we were to escape, what would they say of you!" - -"Fish!" Charles retorted, to hide some feelings of his own; "once our -rebel is out of the country, they may speak their minds. They have never -lacked for names to call me, and I have been dubbed a traitor before now, -my dear lady." - -He stepped hastily to the bed, and laid his hand on me with affection. - -"Charles," I said, "this is all of a piece with your old recklessness. -You were ever one to take any risk, but I will not hear of such a venture -as this. Do you think I will allow the hope of all England to be staked -for a pirate? And would you break our commander of her rank? All that -Dorothy need do at Portsmouth is to curtsey to the first skipper she -meets, and I'll warrant he will carry us all to the antipodes." - -"Egad, but that is more practical than it sounds," he replied, with a -glance of admiration at my lady, as she stood so tall before us. "She -has a cool head, Richard Carvel, and a long head, and--and I'm thinking -you are to come out of this the best of all of us. You cannot get far -off your course, my lad, with her at the helm." - -It was there his voice belied the jest in his words, and he left us with -precipitation. - -They lifted me out of my sheets (I was appalled to discover my weakness), -and bundled me with tender care in a dozen shawls and blankets. My feet -were thrust into two pairs of heavy woollen stockings, and Dorothy bound -her own silk kerchief at my throat, whispering anxious questions the -while. And when her mother and mammy went from the room, her arms flew -around my neck in a passion of solicitude. Then she ran away to dress -for the journey, and in a surprising short time was back again, with her -muff and her heavy cloak, and bending over me to see if I gave any signs -of failure. - -Fifty and five minutes had been registered by the French clock, when the -rattle of wheels and the clatter of hoofs sounded below, and Charles Fox -panted up the stairs, muffled in a huge wrap-rascal. 'Twas he and Aunt -Lucy carried me down to the street, Dorothy walking at my side, and -propped me up in the padded corner of one of the two vehicles in waiting. -This was an ample travelling-carriage with a lamp hanging from its top, -by the light of which my lady tucked me in from head to foot, and then -took her place next me. Aunt Lucy filled most of the seat opposite. The -baggage was hoisted up behind, and Charles was about to slam the door, -when a hackney-chaise turned the corner at a gallop and pulled up in the -narrow street abreast, and the figure of my Lord Comyn suddenly leaped -within the compass of the lanthorn's rays. He was dressed as for a ball, -with only a thin rain-cloak over his shoulders, for the night was thick -with mist. He threw at us a startled look that was a question. - -"Jack, Richard is to be betrayed to-night by his uncle," said Charles, -shortly. "And I am taking them to Portsmouth to get them off for -Lisbon." - -"Charles," said his Lordship, sternly, "give me that greatcoat." - -It was just the one time that ever I saw uncertainty on Mr. Fox's face. -He threw an uneasy glance into the chaise. - -"I have brought money," his Lordship went on rapidly; - -"'Twas that kept me, for I guessed at something of this kind. Give me -the coat, I say." - -Mr. Fox wriggled out of it, and took the oiled cape in return. - -"Thank you, Jack," he said simply, and stepped into the carriage. "Who -is to mend my waistcoats now?" he cried. "Faith, I shall treasure this -against you, Richard. Good-by, my lad, and obey your rebel general. -Alas! I must even ask your permission to salute her." - -And he kissed the unresisting Dorothy on both her cheeks. "God keep the -two of you," he said, "for I love you with all my heart." - -Before we could answer he was gone into the night; and my Lord, standing -without, had closed the carriage door. And that was the last I saw of -this noble man, the true friend of America, who devoted his glorious -talents and his life to fighting the corruption that was rotting the -greatness of England. He who was followed by the prayers of the English -race was ever remembered in our own humble ones. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII - -I COME TO MY OWN AGAIN - -'Twas a rough, wild journey we made to Portsmouth, my dears, and I think -it must have killed me had not my lady been at my side. We were no -sooner started than she pulled the curtains and opened her portmanteau, -which I saw was near filled with things for my aid and comfort. And I -was made to take a spoonful of something. Never, I believe, was medicine -swallowed with a greater willingness. Talk was impossible, so I lay back -in the corner and looked at her; and now and anon she would glance at my -face, with a troubled guess in her own as to how I might stand the night. -For we were still in London. That I knew by the trot of our horses, and -by the granite we traversed from time to time. But at length we rumbled -over a bridge, there was a sharp call back from our post-boy to him of -the chaise behind, and then began that rocking and pitching and swaying -and creaking, which was to last the whole night long, save for the brief -stops at the post-houses. - -After an hour of it, I was holding my breath against the lurches, like a -sea-sick man against that bottomless fall of the ship's bows on the -ocean. I had no pain,--only an over whelming exhaustion,--but the joy -of her touch and her presence kept me from failing. And though Aunt Lucy -dozed, not a wink of sleep did my lady get through all of those weary -twelve hours. Always alert was she, solicitous beyond belief, scanning -ever the dial of her watch to know when to give me brandy and physic; or -reaching across to feel my temples for the fever. The womanliness of -that last motion was a thing for a man to wonder at. But most marvellous -of all was the instinct which told her of my chief sickening discomfort, ---of the leathery, travelled smell of the carriage. As a relief for this -she charged her pocket-napkin with a most delicate perfume, and held it -to my face. - -When we drew up to shift horses, Jack would come to the door to inquire -if there was aught she wanted, and to know how I was bearing up. And -often Mrs. Manners likewise. At first I was for talking with them, but -this Dorothy would not allow. Presently, indeed, it was beyond my power, -and I could only smile feebly at my Lord when I heard Dolly asking him -that the hostlers might be more quiet. Toward morning a lethargy fell -upon me. Once I awoke when the lamp had burned low, to perceive the -curtains drawn back, a black blotch of trees without, and the moonlight -streaming in on my lady's features. With the crack of a whip I was off -again. - -When next consciousness came, the tarry, salt smell of a ship was in my -nostrils, and I knew that we were embarked. I lay in a clean bunk in a -fair-sized and sun-washed cabin, and I heard the scraping of ropes and -the tramp of feet on the deck above my head. Framed against the -irregular glass of the cabin window, which was greened by the water -beyond, Dorothy and my Lord stood talking in whispers. - -"Jack!" I said. - -At the sound they turned and ran toward me, asking how I felt. - -"I feel that words are very empty, Jack, to express such a gratitude as -mine," I answered. "Twice you have saved me from death, you have paid -my debts, and have been stanch to us both in our troubles. And--" The -effort was beyond me, and I glanced appealingly at Dolly. - -"And it is to you, dear Jack," she finished, "it is to you alone that we -owe the great joy of our lives." - -Her eyes were shining through her tears, and her smile was like the sun -out of a rain-swept sky. His Lordship took one of her hands in his own, -and one of mine. He scanned our faces in a long, lingering look. - -"You will cherish her, Richard," he said brokenly, "for her like is not -to be found in this world. I knew her worth when first she came to -London, as arrant a baggage as ever led man a dance. I saw then that a -great love alone was needed to make her the highest among women, and from -the night I fought with you at the Coffee House I have felt upon whom -that love would fall. O thou of little faith," he cried, "what little I -may have done has been for her. No, Richard, you do not deserve her, but -I would rather think of her as your wife than that of any man living." - -I shall not dwell upon that painful farewell which wrung our hearts, and -made us silent for a long, long while after the ship was tossing in the -short seas of the Channel. - -Nor is it my purpose to tell you of that long voyage across the Atlantic. -We reached Lisbon in safety, and after a week of lodgings in that city by -the best of fortune got passage in a swift bark bound for Baltimore. For -the Chesapeake commerce continued throughout the war, and kept alive the -credit of the young nation. There were many excitements ere we sighted -the sand-spits of Virginia, and off the Azores we were chased for a day -and a night by a British sloop of war. Our captain, however, was a cool -man and a seaman, and slipped through the cruisers lying in wait off the -Capes very triumphantly. - -But the remembrance of those fair days at sea fills my soul with longing. -The weather was mild and bright for the season, and morning upon morning -two stout topmen would carry me out to a sheltered spot on the deck, -always chosen by my lady herself. There I sat by the hour, swathed in -many layers of wool, and tended by her hands alone. Every nook and -cranny of our lives were revealed to the other. She loved to hear of -Patty and my years at Gordon's, and would listen with bated breath to the -stories of the Ranger and the Bonhomme Richard, and of that strange man -whom we both loved, whose genius had made those cruises famous. -Sometimes, in low voices, we talked of our future; but often, when the -wind blew and the deck rocked and the sun flashed upon the waters, a -silence would fall between us that needed no word to interpret. - -Mrs. Manners yielded to my wish for us all to go to Carvel Hall. It was -on a sparkling morning in February that we sighted the familiar toe of -Kent Island, and the good-natured skipper put about and made for the -mouth of our river. Then, as of old, the white cupola of Carvel House -gleamed a signal of greeting, to which our full hearts beat a silent -response. Once again the great windmill waved its welcome, and the same -memory was upon us both as we gazed. Of a hale old gentleman in the -sheets of a sailing pinnace, of a boy and a girl on his knees quivering -with excitement of the days to come. Dorothy gently pressed my hand as -the bark came into the wind, and the boat was dropped into the green -water. Slowly they lowered me into it, for I was still helpless, Dorothy -and her mother and Aunt Lucy were got down, and finally Mr. Marmaduke -stepped gingerly from the sea-ladder over the gunwale. The cutter leaped -under the strong strokes up the river with the tide. Then, as we rounded -the bend, we were suddenly astonished to see people gathered on the -landing at the foot of the lawn, where they had run, no doubt, in a -flurry at sight of the ship below. In the front of the group stood -out a strangely familiar figure. - -"Why," exclaimed Dolly, "it is Ivie Rawlinson!" - -Ivie it was, sure enough. And presently, when we drew a little closer, -he gave one big shout and whipped off the hat from his head; and off, -too, came the caps from the white heads of Scipio and Chess and Johnson -behind him. Our oars were tossed, Ivie caught our bows, and reached his -hand to Dorothy. It was fitting that she should be the first to land at -Carvel Hall. - -"'Twas yere bonny face I seed first, Miss Dolly," he cried, the tears -coursing down the scars of his cheeks. "An' syne I kennt weel the young -master was here. Noo God be praised for this blythe day, that Mr. -Richard's cam to his ain at last!" - -But Scipio and Chess could only blubber as they helped him to lift me -out, Dolly begging them to be careful. As they carried me up the -familiar path to the pillared porch, the first I asked Ivie was of Patty, -and next why he had left Gordon's. She was safe and well, despite the -Tories, and herself had sent him to take charge of Carvel Hall as soon as -ever Judge Bordley had brought her the news of its restoration to me. He -had supplied her with another overseer. Thanks to the good judge and to -Colonel Lloyd, who had looked to my interests since Grafton was fled, -Ivie had found the old place in good order, all the negroes quiet, and -impatient with joy against my arrival. - -It is time, my children, to bring this story to a close. I would I might -write of those delicious spring days I spent with Dorothy at Carvel Hall, -waited on by the old servants of my grandfather. At our whim my chair -would be moved from one to another of the childhood haunts; on cool days -we sat in the sun by the dial, where the flowers mingled their odours -with the salt breezes off the Chesapeake; or anon, when it was warmer, in -the summer-house my mother loved, or under the shade of the great trees -on the lawn, looking out over the river. And once my lady went off very -mysteriously, her eyes brimful of mischief, to come back with the first -strawberries of the year staining her apron. - -We were married on the fifteenth of June, already an anniversary for us -both, in the long drawing-room. General Clapsaddle was there from the -army to take Dorothy in his arms, even as he had embraced another bride -on the same spot in years gone by. She wore the wedding gown that was -her mother's, but when the hour was come to dress her Aunt Lucy and Aunt -Hester failed in their task, and it was Patty who performed the most of -that office, and hung the necklace of pearls about her neck. - -Dear Patty! She hath often been with us since. You have heard your -mothers and fathers speak of Aunt Patty, my dears, and they will tell -you how she spoiled them when they went a-visiting to Gordon's Pride. - -Ere I had regained my health, the war for Independence was won. I pray -God that time may soften the bitterness it caused, and heal the breach in -that noble race whose motto is Freedom. That the Stars and Stripes and -the Union Jack may one day float together to cleanse this world of -tyranny! - - - - -AFTERWORD - -The author makes most humble apologies to any who have, or think they -have, an ancestor in this book. He has drawn the foregoing with a very -free hand, and in the Maryland scenes has made use of names rather than -of actual personages. His purpose, however poorly accomplished, was to -give some semblance of reality to this part of the story. Hence he has -introduced those names in the setting, choosing them entirely at random -from the many prominent families of the colony. - -No one may read the annals of these men, who were at once brave and -courtly, and of these women, who were ladies by nature as well as by -birth, and not love them. The fascination of that free and hospitable -life has been so strong on the writer of this novel that he closes it -with a genuine regret and the hope that its perusal may lead others to -the pleasure he has derived from the history of Maryland. - -As few liberties as possible have been taken with the lives of Charles -James Fox and of John Paul Jones. The latter hero actually made a voyage -in the brigantine 'John' about the time he picked up Richard Carvel from -the Black Moll, after the episode with Mungo Maxwell at Tobago. The -Scotch scene, of course, is purely imaginary. Accuracy has been aimed at -in the account of the fight between the 'Bonhomme Richard' and the -'Serapis', while a little different arrangement might have been better -for the medium of the narrative. To be sure, it was Mr. Mease, the -purser, instead of Richard Carvel, who so bravely fought the quarter-deck -guns; and in reality Midshipman Mayrant, Commodore Jones's aide, was -wounded by a pike in the thigh after the surrender. No injustice is done -to the second and third lieutenants, who were absent from the ship during -the action. - -The author must acknowledge that the only good anecdote in the book and -the only verse worth printing are stolen. The story on page concerning -Mr. Garrick and the Archbishop of York may be found in Fitzgerald's life -of the actor, much better told. The verse (in Chapter X) is by an -unknown author in the Annapolis Gazette, and is republished in Mr. Elihu -Riley's excellent "History of Annapolis." - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven -Sir, I have not yet begun to fight - - - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "RICHARD CARVEL": - -A bold front is half the battle -A man ought never to be frightened by appearances -Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest -Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back -Genius honored but never encouraged -God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see -He was our macaroni of Annapolis -Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys -It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven -No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing -Shaped his politics according to the company he was in -Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad -Sir, I have not yet begun to fight -The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure -Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages) -Thy politics are not over politic -Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur -Within every man's province to make himself what he will -Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle -Youth is in truth a mystery - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, ALL, BY CHURCHILL *** - -*********** This file should be named wc36w10.txt or wc36w10.zip *********** - -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, wc36w11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wc36w10a.txt - -This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. 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