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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e018c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52957 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52957) diff --git a/old/52957-8.txt b/old/52957-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 70ccf4d..0000000 --- a/old/52957-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10029 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Bondage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Land of Bondage - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: September 2, 2016 [EBook #52957] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF BONDAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Library of the University of Illinois) - - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=tE9CAQAAMAAJ - (Library of the University of Illinois) - - - - - - - -THE LAND OF BONDAGE - - - - - - -ROMANCES BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - THE HISPANIOLA PLATE - IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY - SERVANTS OF SIN - THE YEAR ONE - THE FATE OF VALSE - ACROSS THE SALT SEAS - THE CLASH OF ARMS - DENOUNCED - THE SCOURGE OF GOD - FORTUNES MY FOE - A GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER - THE INTRIGUER'S WAY - THE DESERT SHIP - - - - - - -THE LAND OF BONDAGE -A ROMANCE - - - -BY -JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON - -AUTHOR OF -"THE HISPANIOLA PLATE" -"A DEAD RECKONING" -ETC., ETC. - - - - -LONDON -F. V. WHITE & CO., LIMITED -14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. -1905 - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - - -THE NARRATIVE OF GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE - - -CHAPTER -I. FUNERAL. -II. AN UNPEACEFUL PASSING. -III. A BEGGAR AND AN OUTCAST. -IV. INTO THE LAND OF BONDAGE. -V. THE SPRINGE IS SET. -VI. THE BIRD DRAWS NEAR. -VII. TRAPPED. -VIII. AND CAGED. -IX. MY MOTHER. -X. A NOBLE KINSMAN. -XI. IMPRESSED. - - -PART II - -THE NARRATIVE OF JOICE BAMPFYLD OF VIRGINIA - -XII. A COLONIAL PLANTATION. -XIII. THE BOND SLAVE. -XIV. A SLAVE'S GRATITUDE! -XV. A VISITOR FROM ENGLAND. -XVI. ANOTHER VISITOR. -XVII. THE RED MAN. -XVIII. BESIEGED. -XIX. AT BAY. -XX. THE GREAT MEDICINE CHIEF. -XXI. IN CAPTIVITY. -XXII. AMONGST THE SAVAGES. -XXIII. DENOUNCED. -XXIV. 'TWIXT BEAR AND PANTHER. - - -PART III - - -THE NARRATIVE OF LORD ST. AMANDE CONTINUED - -XXV. THE SHAWNEE TRAIL. -XXVI. AS FOEMEN FIGHT. -XXVII. A LONG PEACE. -XXVIII. THE REWARD OF A TRAITOR. - - -PART IV - - -THE NARRATIVE OF JOICE BAMPFYLD CONTINUED - -XXIX. HOMEWARD BOUND. -XXX. IN THE LAND WHERE THEIR FATHERS DWELT. -XXXI. FACE TO FACE. -XXXII. NEMESIS. - - THE NARRATIVE CONCLUDED BY GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE - - "AFTER THESE STORMS AT LAST A CALM" - - - - - - -PREFACE - - -The groundwork of the following narrative, accompanied by a vast -number of papers and documents bearing on the main facts, was related -to me by the late Mr. Clement Barclay of Philadelphia, the last -descendant of an old Virginian family. On reading over these papers -and documents, I was struck by the resemblance which the story bore to -the history of another unfortunate young Englishman whose case created -much sensation in the English Law Courts at about the same period, -_i.e_., that of the reign of King George II. Recognising, however, -that the adventures of Lord St. Amande were not only more romantic -than those of that other personage, while his character was of a far -more noble and interesting nature, I resolved to utilise them for the -purpose of romance in the following pages, which are now submitted to -the public. Except that in some few cases, and those the principal, -the names have been altered, the characters bear the same names as in -the documents, private papers, journals and news-letters handed to me -by Mr. Barclay. - -J. B.-B. - -_October_, 1904. - - - - - - - -THE LAND OF BONDAGE - - - - - -PART I - - -THE NARRATIVE OF -GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MY LORD'S FUNERAL - - -And this was the end of it. To be buried at the public expense! - -To be buried at the public expense, although a Viscount in the Peerage -of Ireland and the heir to a Marquisate in the Peerage of England. - -The pity of it, the pity that it should come to this! - -A few years before, viz., in the fourth year of the reign of our late -Queen Anne, and the year of Our Lord, 1706, no one who had then known -Gerald, Lord Viscount St. Amande, would have ventured to foretell so -evil an ending for him, since he and life were well at evens with each -other. Ever to have his purse fairly well filled with crowns if not -guineas had been his lot in those days, as it had also been to have -good credit at the fashioners, to be able to treat his friends to a -fine turtle or a turbot at the coffee-houses he used, to take a hand -at ombra or at whisk, to play at pass-dice or at billiards, and to be -always carefully bedeck't in the best of satins and velvets and laces, -and to eat and drink of the best. For to eat and drink well was ever -his delight, as it was to frequent port clubs and Locketts or Rummers, -to empty his glass as soon as it was filled, to toss down beaker after -beaker, while, meantime, he would sing jovial chaunts and songs of -none too delicate a nature, fling a handful of loose silver to the -servers and waitresses, and ogle each of the latter who was comely or -buxom. - -Yet now he was being buried at the public expense! - -How had it come about? I must set it down so that you shall -understand. During this period of wassailing and carousing, of -ridottos at St. James's and dances at lower parts of the town, for he -affected even the haunts at Rotherhithe in his search for pleasure, as -he did those in the common parts of Dublin when he was in that, his -native, city--and during the time when he varied his pursuits by -sometimes frequenting the playhouses where he would regard fondly the -ladies at one moment and amuse himself by kicking a shop-boy or poor -clerk, or scrivener, at another, and by sometimes retiring into the -country for shooting, or hunting, or fighting a main, his heart had -become entendered towards a young and beautiful girl, one Louise -Sheffield. - -He had met her in the best class of company which he frequented, for, -although bearing no rank herself, she was of the best blood and race, -being indeed a niece to the Duke of Walton. Later on you shall see -this girl, grown into a woman, full of sorrows and vexations and -despite, and judge of her for yourself by that which I narrate. -Suffice it, therefore, if I write down the fact that she repaid his -love with hers in return and that, although she knew this handsome -gallant, Gerald, Lord St. Amande to be no better than a wastrel, a -tosspot and a gamer, she was willing to become his wife and to endow -him with a small but comfortable fortune that she possessed. Alas! -that she should ever have done so, for from that marriage arose all -the calamities, the sufferings and the heartaches that are to be -chronicled in this narrative. - -From the commencement all went awry. George, Marquis of Amesbury, to -whom this giddy, unthinking Lord St. Amande was kinsman and heir, did -hate with a most fervent hatred John, Duke of Walton, they having -quarrelled at the succession of the Queen, when the Marquis espoused -the cause of her Majesty, while the Duke was all for proclaiming the -Pretender; and thus the whole of Lord St. Amande's family was against -the match. The ladies, especially his mother and sister, threw their -most bitter rancour into the scales against the bride, they -endeavoured to poison his mind against her by insinuating evil conduct -on her part previous to her marriage, and they persuaded the Marquis -to threaten my lord with a total withdrawal of his favour, as well as -a handsome allowance that he made annually to his heir, if he did not -part from her. - -At first he would not listen to one word against her--he had not owned -his bride long enough to tire of her; also some of her fortune was not -yet wasted. Yet gradually, as he continued in his evil courses, -becoming still fonder of his glass and rioting, and as her fortune -declined at the same time that he felt bitterly the pinch occasioned -by the withdrawal of the Marquis's allowance, he did begin to hearken -to the reports spread broadcast against his young wife. - -She had borne him a child, dead, during his absence in Ireland, and it -was after this period that he began to give credence to the hints -against her; and thus it was that while he was still in that country -he sent to his mother a power of attorney, authorising her to sue to -the Lords for a divorce, as his representative. This petition, -however, their Lordships refused, dismissing the plea with costs -against him, saying that there was no truth in his allegations, and -stigmatising them as scandalous. - -And then he learnt that he had indeed wronged her most bitterly and, -turning upon his mother and sister, went over to England where, upon -his knees, he besought his wife for her pardon, weeping many tears of -contrition as he did so, while she, loving him ever in spite of all, -forgave him as a woman will forgive. Then they passed back to Ireland -where, she being again about to become a mother, he cherished her with -great care and tenderness, and watched over her until she had -presented him with a son. - -Yet, such was this man's sometime evil temper and brutality of nature -that, on the Duke of Walton refusing to add more money to the gift he -had already made her--the original fortune being now quite -dissipated--he banished her from his house and she, flying to England, -was forced to take refuge with the Duke and, worse still, to leave her -child behind. - -Now, therefore, you shall see how it befell that, at last, he owed -even his coffin and his grave to charity. - -When she was gone from him, he, loving the child in his strange way, -proclaimed it as his heir, put it to nurse in the neighbourhood, and -invariably spoke of it as the future Lord St. Amande and Marquis of -Amesbury. But, unfortunately for this poor offspring of his now dead -love, he became enamoured of a horrid woman, a German queen, who had -come over to England at the time of the succession of King George--for -over twenty years had now passed since his marriage with the Duke of -Walton's niece--a woman who had set up in Dublin as a court fashioner, -lace merchant and milliner. But she had no thought for him, being in -truth much smitten with his younger brother, Robert, and she persuaded -him that to relieve himself of the dire poverty into which he had -fallen, it would be best that he should give out that his son was dead -and secrete him, so that he and Robert, who would then be regarded by -all men as the heir, could proceed to dispose of the estate. And my -lord's intellects being now bemused with much drink and other -disordered methods of life, besides that he was in bitter poverty, -agreed to do this and gave out that the son was dead and that he and -his brother were about to break the entail. - -And even this villainy, which might have seemed likely to ward off his -penury for at least some years, did nothing of the sort, but, indeed, -only brought him nearer to the pauper's grave to which he was -hurrying. So greedy was he for money--as also was his brother, who, -knowing that while the boy lived _he_ could never succeed to the -estates, was naturally very willing to dispose of them at any -price--that large properties were in very truth sold for not more -than, and indeed rarely exceeded, half a year's purchase! How long was -it to be imagined that the half of such sums would last this poor -spendthrift who no sooner felt his purse heavy with the guineas in it -than he made haste to lighten it by odious debaucheries and -wassailings and carousings? His clothes, his laces, nay, even his wigs, -his swords, and his general wearing apparel had long since gone to the -brokers, so that, at the time of selling the properties, he was to be -seen going about Dublin with a rusty cutbob upon his once handsome -head, a miserable ragged coat that had once been blue but had turned -to green with wear, ornamented with Brandenburgh buttons, upon his -back, and a common spadroon reposing on his thigh and sticking half a -foot out of its worn-out sheath, instead of the jewel-hilted swords he -had once used to carry. - -To conclude, he fell sick about this time--sick of his debauches, -sick, it may be, from recollections of the evil he had done his -innocent wife and child, and sick, perhaps, from the remembrance of -how he had wasted his life and impaired the prospects of his rightful -heir. Ill and sick unto death, with not one loving hand to minister to -him, no loving voice to say a word of comfort to him, and dying in a -garret, to pay for which the woman who rented it to him had now taken -his last coat. His wife was in England, sick herself and living on a -small trifle left her by her uncle, now dead; his son, sixteen years -of age, had escaped from the custody of a ruffian named O'Rourke, by -whom he had been kept closely confined and reported dead, and, of all -men, most avoided his unnatural father. What time his brother Robert -would not have given him a crust to prolong his life and was indeed -looking forward to his death with glee and eager anticipation. - -So he died, with none by his pallet but the hag who owned the garret -and who was waiting for the breath to be out of his body to send that -body to the parish mortuary. So he died, sometimes fancying that he -was back in the bagnios he had found so pleasant, sometimes weeping -for a sight of his child and for the wrongs he had done that child, -sometimes, in his delirium, bellowing forth the profligate songs that -such creatures as D'Urfey and Shadwell had made popular amongst the -depraved. And sometimes, also, moaning for his Louise to come back and -pity him, and forgive him once again in memory of the sweetness of -their early love. - -Now, therefore, you see how this once handsome lordling--and handsome -as Apollo he was in his younger days, I have heard his wife say, -though wicked as Satan--was brought so low that, from ruffling it with -the best, he came to dying in a filthy garret and being buried at the -public expense. Alas, alas! who can help but weep and wring their -hands when they think on such a thing, and when they reflect on all -the evil that Gerald, Lord St. Amande, wrought in his life and the -bitter heritage of woe he left behind to those whom he should, -instead, have loved and cherished, and made good provision for. - -'Twas a dull November day, in the year of our Lord, 1727, and the -first of the reign of our present King George II., that the funeral -procession--if so poor and mean an interment as this may be so -termed--passed over Essex Bridge on its way to the burying ground -where the body was to be deposited. Yet how think you a future peer of -the realm should be taken to his last home, how think you one of his -rank should be taken farewell of? This man had once held the King's -commission, he having carried the colours of his regiment at -Donauwerth and been present as a lieutenant at Tirlemont, at both of -which the great Marlborough had commanded--therefore upon his coffin -there should have been a sword and a sash at least, with, perhaps, a -flag. He stood near unto a marquisate, therefore his coffin should -have been covered with purple velvet and the plate upon it should have -been of silver. Yet there were no such things. His swords, you know by -now, were pawned; his sashes had gone the way of his laces, apparel -and handsome wigs. The bier on which he was drawn was, therefore, but -a common thing on which the bodies of beggars, of Liffey watermen and -of coach-drivers were often also drawn; the coffin was a poor, deal -encasement with, nailed roughly on it, some black cloth; the -name-plate bearing the description of his rank and standing--oh, -hollow mockery!--was of tin. - -And yet even this was obtained but at the public expense! - -A dull November day, with, rolling in from the Channel, great masses -of sea fog, damp and wet, that made the dogs in the street creep -closer to the house doors for shelter and warmth, and the swine in the -streets to huddle themselves together for greater comfort. A day on -which those who had no call to be out of doors warmed themselves over -fires, or gathered round tavern tables and drank drams of nantz and -usquebaugh; a day which no man would care to think should resemble the -day on which he would himself be put away into the earth for ever. But -the melancholy of the elements and the weather were the only part of -the wretched funeral of this man for which he had not been -responsible. The gloom and the fog and the damp he could not help, -since none, whether king or pauper, can fix the date of their death, -or choose to die and go to their last home amidst the shining of the -sun and the singing of the birds and the blooming of the flowers, in -preference to the miseries of the winter. But all else he might have -avoided had he so chosen. - -For he might have been borne--not to a beggar's grave, but to the tomb -of his own illustrious family in England--amidst pomp and honour had -he so willed it; the pomp and honour of a Marquis's heir, the pomp and -honour of a gallant officer who had fought under the greatest general -that England had ever known, and for his mourners he might have had a -loving wife and child weeping for his loss. - -Only he would not, and so there was not one that day to shed a tear -for him. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -AN UNPEACEFUL PASSING - - -So the funeral passed over Essex Bridge and by the French Church, on -the steps of which there sat a boy who, on its approach, sprang to his -feet and, from behind a pillar of the porch, fixed his eyes firmly on -those who attended it. - -A boy of between fifteen and sixteen years of age, tall and, thus, -looking older, and clad partly in rags and partly in clothes too big -for him. To be explicit, his hose was torn and mended and torn again, -his shoes were burst and broken and his coat which, though threadbare -was sound, hung down nearly to his feet and was roomy enough for a man -of twenty, to whom indeed it had once belonged till given in charity -to its present owner. By the boy's side there stood a big, burly man -with a red, kindly face and a great fell of brown hair, himself -dressed in the garb of a butcher, and with at the moment, as though he -had but just left the block, his sharpening steel hanging at his side. -Also, on the steps of the church were one or two gentlemen arrayed in -their college gowns and caps, as if they too had strolled forth at the -moment from Trinity and had happened upon the spot, while, around and -under the stoops of the neighbouring houses, were gathered together -several groups of beggars and ragamuffins and idle ne'er-do-wells. - -And now you shall hear a strange thing, for, as the bier with its mean -burden came close, so that the features of those who accompanied it -might be plainly perceived through the fog, the butcher, turning to -the lad dressed as a scarecrow, said, "_My lord_, stand forth and show -thyself. Here come those who have put it about that you have been dead -these two years, and who, if they had their will, would soon have you -dead now. Show thyself therefore, I say, Lord St. Amande, and prove -that thou art alive." - -"Ay, ay, do," one of the collegians added. "If the news from London be -true, thy uncle, Robert, has already proclaimed himself the new lord, -and it is as well that the contrary should be proved." - -Thus solemnly adjured, the boy did stand forth and, figure of fun -though he looked, gazed fiercely on those who rode behind his father's -coffin. - -There were but three mourners--if such these ghouls could be called -who followed the body to its last resting place, not with any desire -to pay a tribute to the dead, but rather with the desire of satisfying -themselves, and one other, their master, that it was indeed gone from -the world for ever--two men mounted and a woman in a one-horse hackney -coach. - -All were evil-looking, yet she was the worst, and, as she peered forth -from the window, the beggars all about groaned at her while the -students regarded her with looks of contempt. She was the German woman -who had come to Dublin when the late King had come to London, and was -called Madame Baüer, and was now no longer young. That she may once -have been comely is to be supposed, since the late Herr Baüer was said -to have been a wealthy German gentleman who ruined himself for -her--if, indeed, he had ever existed, which many doubted--and also -since the dead man now going to his grave had formed a passion for -her, while his usurping brother was actually said to be privately -married to her. Yet of a certainty, she had no beauty now, her face -being of a fiery red, due, it was whispered, to her love of strong -waters; her great staring and protuberant eyes were of a watery -blue-green hue, and her teeth were too prominent and more like those -of an animal. And when the small crowd groaned at her and called her -"painted Jezebel"--though she needed no paint, in truth--she gnashed -those teeth at them as though she would have liked to tear and rend -them ere she sank back into the carriage. - -Of the men who followed the bier one was a pale cadaverous-looking -person, with about him some remnants of good looks, his features being -not ill-formed, though on his face, too, there were the signs of -drinking and evil-living in the form of blotches and a red nose that -looked more conspicuous because of the lividness of his skin. This man -was Wolfe Considine, a gentleman by birth, and of an ancient Irish -family, yet now no better than a hanger-on to Robert St. Amande; a -creature who obeyed his orders as a dog obeys its master's orders, and -who was so vile and perjured a wretch that for many years, when out of -the reach of Lord St. Amande, he had allowed it to be hinted that he -was in truth the father of that lord's son, and, if not that, had at -least been much beloved by Lord St. Amande's wife. In obedience, -perhaps, to his master's orders he wore now no signs of mourning but, -instead, rode in a red coat much passemented with tarnished gold lace, -as was the case with his hat, and with his demi-peaked saddle quilted -with red plush, while the twitter-boned, broken-winded horse he -bestrode gave, as well as his apparel, but few signs that his employer -bestowed much care upon him. The man who paced beside him was liveried -as a servant and rode a better horse, and was doubtless there in -attendance on him and the woman in the coach. - -Noticing the ominous and glowering looks of the beggars on the -sidewalk as well as the contemptuous glances of the students standing -by the steps of the French Church, Considine drew his horse nearer to -the coach and spoke to the inmate thereof, saying:-- - -"I' faith, my lady, they seem to bear no good will to us judging by -their booings and mutterings, for it cannot be to this poor dead thing -that their growls are directed--_he_ was beloved enough by them, at -any rate, so long as he had a stiver in his purse with which to treat -them to a bowl of hypsy or a mug of ale." - -The woman in the hackney glanced at the beggars again with her cold, -cruel eyes as he spoke, but ere she could reply, if indeed she -intended to do so, she shrank back once more, seeing that from the -crowd there was emerging an old woman, a hideous creature bent double -with age, who leaned upon a stick and who shock as though with the -palsy. - -"What want you, hag?" asked Considine, while as he spoke he pricked -the horse he rode with the spur, as though he would ride over her. - -"To look upon the coffin of a gentleman," she answered, waving at the -same time her crutch, or stick, so near to the animal's nostrils that -it started back, almost unseating its rider. "To look upon the coffin -of a gentleman, and not upon such scum as you and that thing there," -pointing to the woman who had been addressed as "my lady." - -"Proceed," called out Considine to the driver of the bier. "Why tarry -you because of this woman. Proceed, I say." - -But here a fresh interruption occurred, for, as he spoke, the butcher, -motioning to the lad with him to remain where he was, descended the -steps of the church and, coming forward, said in a masterful manner:-- - -"Nay! That shall you not do yet. Wolfe Considine, you must listen to -me." - -"To thee, rapscallion," said the other, looking down on him, yet -noting his great frame as he did so. "To thee. Wherefore, pray, to -thee? If you endeavour to stop this funeral the watch shall lay you by -the heels, and my lady here shall hale you before a Justice for -endeavouring to prevent the interment of her brother-in-law." - -"'My lady! Her brother-in-law!'" repeated the butcher contemptuously, -and glancing into the hackney carriage as he did so. "'My lady! Her -brother-in-law!' Why, how can she be either?" and he smiled at the -red-faced woman. - -"You Irish dog," she said, now protruding her head from the window. -"The law shall teach you how I am both, at the same time that it -chastises you for your insolence. Let us pass, however." - -"You shall not pass until you have heard me. Nay, Wolfe Considine, -put not thy hand upon thy sword. There is no courage in thy craven -heart to draw it. What! shall he who ran away from Oudenarde--thou -knowest 'tis truth; I fought, not ran away, as a corporal there -myself--threaten a brave and honest man with his sword? Nay, more, why -should he wear one--? I' faith, I have a mind to take it from thee. -Yet even that is not the worst, though the Duke did threaten to brand -thy back if ever he clapt eyes on thee again." - -Here the collegians, in spite of the halted bier with the dreary -burden on it, burst into laughter, while Considine trembled with rage -and was now white as a corpse himself. - -"That, I say, is scarce the worst. You speak of the watch to me--you! -Why! call them, call all the officers of the law and see which they -shall arrest first. An honest man or a thief. Ay, a thief! I say a -thief." He advanced closer to Considine as he spoke. "A thief, I say -again." - -"Vile wretch! the law shall punish you." - -"Summon it, I tell you. Summon it. Then shall we see." - -And now, changing his address, which had been up to this moment made -to Considine alone, he turned half round to the crowd--which had much -augmented since the altercation began and the stopping of the funeral -had taken place--and addressing all assembled there, he said in a loud -voice so that none but those who were stone deaf could fail to hear -his words. - -"Listen all you who to-day see the body of the late Lord St. Amande on -its way to the grave, listen I say to the villainy of this creature, -Wolfe Considine, the tool and minion of the man Robert St. Amande, who -now claims to have succeeded to his honours. Hear also how far -she,"---and he pointed his finger to the hackney carriage where the -woman glowered out at him--"has aided both these scoundrels." - -"By heavens, you shall suffer for this," exclaimed Considine, "to -defame a peer is punishable with the hulks----" - -"Tush," answered the other, "I defame no peer, for he is none. The -true peer is Gerald St. Amande, the younger, now the Lord Viscount St. -Amande since his father's death." - -"Thou fool," bellowed Considine, "he is dead long since. 'Tis well -known." - -"Is it so? Well, let us see. But first answer me, Wolfe Considine, -deserter from the colours of Her Majesty Queen Anne's 1st Royal Scots' -Regiment, panderer and creature of the usurper Robert St. Amande, -purloiner of the body of the present Lord St. Amande--said I not you -were a thief?--instigator of murder to the villain, O'Rourke, who -would have slain the child or, at least, have shipped him off a slave -to the Virginian plantations; traducer of an honest lady's fame who, -so far from favouring thee, would not have spat upon thee. Answer me, -I say, and tell me if you would know that dead child again were you to -set your eyes upon it?" - -He hurled forth these accusations against the wretch shivering on his -horse with so terrible a voice, accompanied by fierce looks, that the -other could do naught but writhe under them and set to work to bawl -loudly for the watch as he did so, and to offer a gibing beggar who -stood near a crown to run and fetch them, which the beggar refused, so -that at last the servant started to find them. But, meanwhile, the -butcher again began: - -"He is dead long since, is he? Well, we will see." Then beckoning to -the lad in rags still standing on the steps of the French Church, he -said, "Lord St. Amande, come hither and prove to this perjured villain -that thou art no more dead than he who would have had thee so." - -Slowly, therefore, I descended--for I who write these lines was that -most unhappy child, Lord St. Amande, as perhaps you who read them may -have guessed--and slowly in my tatters I went down and stood by him -who had succoured me, and fixed my eyes on that most dreadful villain, -Wolfe Considine. - -Now, the effect upon him was wonderful to witness, for verily I -thought he would have had a fit and fallen from his horse. His eyes -seemed to be starting forth from his head, his cadaverous face became -empurpled, his hands twitched, and all the while he muttered, "Alive! -Alive! yet O'Rourke swore that he was safe at the bottom of the -Liffey--the traitor! Alive!" - -He spoke so low and muttered so hoarsely to himself that I have ever -doubted if any other but I and Oliver Quin, the butcher, heard his -self-condemnatory words--by which he most plainly acknowledged his -guilt and the part he had played in endeavouring to get me made away -with. But, ere he could say more, he received support from the woman, -Baüer, or "Madam," as she was generally called, who, descending now -from her hackney carriage, thrust aside the beggars around it and -advanced towards me. - -That she was a woman of courage need not be doubted, for, although -these miserable gutter-birds had hitherto been jeering at her to even -such an extent as remarking on the redness of her face and the -probable cause thereof, she at this time awed them by her manner. Her -eyes flaming, her great white teeth gleaming like those of a hunted -wolf as it turns to tear its pursuers, she thrust them all aside (she -being big and of masculine proportions) and exclaiming, "Out you -wretches, away you kennel dogs, stand back, I say, you Irish curs," -made her way to me. - -"Let me see," she said, seizing me roughly by the collar, "the brat -who is to be palmed upon us as the dead child. Let me see him." And -then, as she gazed in my face, she burst into a loud, strident laugh, -while in her harsh voice and her German accent (which she had always) -she exclaimed, "So this is the beggar's brat who is to be thrust in -before us as a son of this dead lord," pointing to my father's -coffin--"this thing of rags and filth. Man," she said, turning -suddenly upon Quin, "man, know you the punishment awarded those who -falsely endeavour for their own evil ends to deprive rightful -inheritors of what is theirs? You shall so suffer for this vile -imposture that you had better have been slain at Oudenarde--of which -you boast so freely--than ever have lived to see to-day." - -"With the respect due to such as you, Madam Baüer----" - -"Fellow, I am the Viscountess St. Amande." - -"Nay. Nay! Even though you be Robert St. Amande's wife--as most people -doubt"--she struck at him with her hand as he said this, which blow he -avoided easily, so that she over-reached herself and nearly fell, at -which the crowd jeered--"even then you are not Lady St. Amande. There -is but one, this poor lad's mother, now sick in England but safe from -your evil attempts. And, Madam Baüer, it is more meet that I should -ask if _you_ know what is the punishment of such malefactors as those -who endeavour for their own evil ends to deprive rightful inheritors -of what is theirs?" - -"The imposition shall not go unpunished, this boy shall indeed be sent -to the plantations and, with him, you, you ruffian. I will myself seek -out the King sooner than he shall escape." - -But here there stepped forth one of the collegians who had been near -me all through this most strange scene, a grave and pious youth of -twenty years of age--'twas his coat I was wearing--who said: - -"By your favour, madam, it is impossible that the boy should be -punished. I am from New Ross in the County of Wexford myself,"---both -she and Considine started at this---"where his father dwelt much. I -have known the lad from his birth, as a child myself I took part in -the festivities--alas! terrible debaucheries and drinkings!--which -this poor dead lord caused to be made in honour of his birth. I have -known him all his life, and that he is the present Lord St. Amande -none can doubt. Added to which, madam, there must be fully five -hundred people in Ireland, including his pastors and teachers, to say -nothing of those in England, who can equally speak for him." - -"It is a lie," Considine shouted, having now regained something of his -courage, "It is a lie. I, too, knew the lad who was son to Lord St. -Amande, and he is dead and this brat is not he." - -"Mr. Considine," said the young student, his pale face reddening, "I -am intended for the Ministry, but being not yet ordained no man may -insult me with impunity, nor doubt my word. Much less such a foul -braggart as you, therefore, unless you ask my pardon on the moment I -will pull you down from off that horse and force you to beg it of me -in the mud at my feet." And he advanced towards Considine with his arm -outstretched to carry out his threat. - -But that person being never disposed to fight with anyone, instantly -taking off his hat said: - -"Sir, my words were ill chosen. I ask your pardon for them. I should -have said that I feared, as I still do, that you are grievously -mistaken." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A BEGGAR AND AN OUTCAST - - -And thus, in such a dreadful way and amidst such surroundings--with -brawling in the streets and insults hurled over his body from one to -another--was my father buried. Alas! unhappily such scenes and -terrifying episodes were but a fitting prologue to the stormy life -that was henceforth before me for many years; I say a fitting prologue -to the future. - -When the craven Considine had made, or rather been compelled to make, -his amends to Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, the young student, my protector, -Quin, announced that, since he had produced the rightful Lord St. -Amande and exhibited him to the public at so fitting a moment as his -father's funeral procession (so that, henceforth, there were in -existence witnesses who could testify to the assertion of my claim), -he had no more to say, except that he hoped that the spirit of the -dead peer would forgive the interruption in consequence of the good -which he wished to do to his son. And he also announced with great -cheerfulness the pleasure which he had experienced in being able to -tell Mr. Wolfe Considine to his face his appreciation of his -character. - -"So that," he said to that person, as once more the procession set -out, "if, henceforth, any one in Dublin shall be so demented as to -deem you an honest man and to be deceived by you, they owe thanks to -none but themselves." - -"Ay, ruffian!" said Considine, brazening it out, however, "thou art -the cock o' the walk for the moment, yet think not to escape -punishment. Thou hast to-day threatened and reviled a gentleman of -birth and consideration, for which thou shalt clearly suffer; thou -hast insulted, slandered and abused a peer and a peeress of His -Majesty's realm, for which thou shalt lie in the bilboes and gemmaces. -Thou hast also endeavoured to usurp my lord's rightful rank and degree -by passing off a base counterfeit of his brother's dead child, for -which the punishment is death, or, at least, branding in the hand and -being sold to slavery in the plantations, all of which thou and thy -accomplice shall most surely receive ere many days are sped." - -Then, turning to the driver of the bier, he ordered him to proceed. - -"Tut, tut, tut," exclaimed Oliver. "Thou art but an empty windbag, -tho' 'tis well that thou hast an accurate knowledge of the law--yet, I -misdoubt if it will save thee when thy time comes. But, as thou -sayest, let the funeral proceed, and, for further assurance of thy -position, young sir," he said to me, "we will accompany it on foot. -Let us see who will prevent us." - -Then, seizing me by the hand, we set out to follow my father's body. - - -And now you, my children, for whom I write this narrative (and your -children who in the fulness of time shall come after you), have seen -in how wretched a manner I, who should have been cradled in luxury, -began my existence at my father's death. Had that father been as he -should have been, or had even my uncle, Robert, been an honest man, or -had the head of our house, the Marquis of Amesbury, looked properly to -the rights of his lawful successor, Ulster King-at-Arms would have -enrolled me on the certificate of the late lord's death as Gerald St. -Amande, Viscount St. Amande, in the peerage of Ireland, and heir -apparent of the Marquisate of Amesbury in the peerage of England. Yet, -see what really happened. The King-at-Arms refused so to enrol me, on -the petition of my uncle--though this was somewhat later,--in spite of -much testimony on my behalf from countless people who had known me, -and, instead of enjoying luxury, I was a beggar. At the time when I -begin this history of my cares and sorrows, and of the wanderings -which will be set down in their due Order, and the hardships that I -have been forced to endure, I, a tender child, was dependent on -strangers for the bread I ate and the clothing I wore. Until I fell in -with honest Oliver Quin, himself a poor butcher, I had, after escaping -from O'Rourke, who endeavoured to drown me and then kept me in a -cellar, been lurking about Dublin, sleeping sometimes on a wharf, -sometimes in the many new houses then a-building (three thousand were -built in this great city between the accession of the late king and -the year of which I now write, viz., 1727), sometimes against a shop -bulk or a glass-house for warmth, and sometimes huddling with other -outcasts on the steps and in the stoops of houses and churches. Food I -had none but I could beg or wrest from the dogs, or the many swine -which then roamed about the streets like dogs themselves. And, -sometimes, I and my wretched companions would kill one of these latter -stealthily by night, and, having roasted parts of it in some empty -house, would regale ourselves thereby. My father I avoided as a -pestilence, for him I regarded as the unnatural author of all my -sufferings. I knew afterwards that I misjudged him, I knew that he had -never meant me to be harmed by O'Rourke, but only kept out of the way -so that he might get money for his evil doings, he feeling sure that, -when he should die, my succession to the rank, if not the estates -(which he had made away with) could not be disputed. But, as I say, I -regarded him as my worst enemy, and, when I saw him come reeling down -the street jovial with drink, or, on other occasions, morose and sour -from ungratified desire for it, I fled from him. - -Then I, by great good chance, fell in with Quin, who was but a -journeyman butcher earning poor wages and much dissatisfied with his -lot, and who, coming from Wexford to Dublin to better that lot, had -recognised me at once as the boy who was always styled the Honourable -Gerald St. Amande in the county, and, out of the goodness of his -heart, succoured me. But what could he do? He himself dwelt near the -shambles, earning but eleven shillings a week, which had to suffice -for all his wants, so that, if sometimes as I passed his master's shop -he could toss me a scrag of mutton or a mouthful of beef--which I -found means to cook by some outcast's fire--it was as much assistance -as he could render. And from Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, himself but a -poor sizar, and, as he stated, also from my neighbourhood and -consequently willing to assist me, I could ask nothing. Beyond his -"size," which was an allowance of a farthing's worth of bread and beer -daily, he had but ten pounds a year from his father wherewithal to -clothe himself and find such necessaries as he required, above that -which he was entitled to as a servitor. Yet was he ever tender to me, -and would say when I crept into the college to see him: - -"Here, Gerald, is the beer and here the bread. Drink and eat thy fill -to such extent as it will go, which is not much. However, for myself I -can get more. But I wish I could do more for thee than give thee these -poor victuals and cast-off garments. Yet, _tunica pallio propior_, -and, as I cannot give thee my skin, I will give thee the best coat I -can spare." Which he did, though, poor youth, it was little enough he -had for himself, let alone to give away. - -From my mother I had, alas! long been parted, for though when I was in -my father's keeping, after she had fled from him, she had made many -attempts to wrest me from him and to get me away to England, she, too, -had come to believe that I had either died in the hands of, or been -killed by, the villain O'Rourke, so that of her I had now heard -nothing for more than two years. But as Mr. Kinchella had written her -informing her of her husband's impending death, of my safety for the -time being, and also of the probable usurpation by my uncle, we were -looking for some news of her by every English packet that came in. "If -her ladyship can compass it," this good and pious young man said on -the night after my father's burial, and when he and Oliver and I sat -in his room over the fire, "she should come to Dublin at once. There -is much to be done at which alone she can help, and it will want all -the assistance of her family to outwit thy uncle. Unfortunately my -lord did go about the city saying that you were dead and that, -therefore, he and his brother were at liberty to dispose of the -property, and, thus, there is a terrible amount of evidence to contend -against." - -"With submission, sir," Oliver said, "surely all that should make in -the young lord's favour. For who shall doubt that his mother can swear -to him as their child? Then there are the peasants with whom he was -placed as an infant at New Ross, and, again, the tutors he was with, -both there and here and in England, to say nothing of many servants. -While, to add to all, his uncle has made himself a criminal by -seconding his father in the false reports of his death and obtaining -money thereby. With my lady's evidence and yours and mine alone, to -say nothing of aught else, we should surely be able to move the -King-at-Arms to enregister him as his father's heir." - -Yet, oh, untoward fate! my mother could not come, but in her place -sent a letter which, being of much importance as affecting all that -afterwards occurred, I here set down, fairly copied. - -_From the Viscountess St. Amande, at_ 5 _Denzil Street, Clare Market, -ye _29_th of November_, 1727. - -_To Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, - Student, - Trinity College, Dublin_. - -Honoured Sir, - -My deepest gratitude is due to you for the pains you have been at to -write to me under the care of my late uncle's bankers, which -communication has safely reached me. Sir, I do most grievously note -that my lord and husband, the Viscount St. Amande lyeth sick unto -death--(Mr. Kinchella had written when Quin had learned from the woman -my father lodged with that there was no hope for him)--and also in -dire poverty; and, ill as he hath treated me, I do pray that his end -may be peace. Moreover, if you or any friend of yours should see him -and he should be able to comprehend your words, I do beseech you to -tell him that I forgive him all he has done to me and that, in another -and a better world, to which I believe myself to be also hastening, I -hope to meet him once more, though, whether he live or die, we can -never meet again upon this earth. - -But, sir, if the news which you give me of the grievous state in which -my lord lies is enough to wring my heart, what comfort and joy shall -not that heart also receive in learning that my beloved child, whom I -thought dead and slain by his father's cruelty, is still alive, and -that he, whom I have mourned as gone from me for ever, should live to -be restored to his mother's arms? Yet, alas! I cannot come to him as I -fain would and fold him in my arms, for I am sorely stricken with the -palsy which creepeth ever on me, though, strange to relate, there are -moments, nay hours, when I am free from it, so that sometimes my -physician doth prophesy a recovery, which, however, I cannot bring -myself to hope or believe. And, moreover, honoured sir, I am without -the means to travel to Dublin. My uncle, when he rescued me from my -unhappy husband's hands, provided me with one hundred guineas a year, -which, at his death last year, he also willed, should be continued to -me while parted from my husband. But if he dies that ceases also, -since my uncle, the Duke, did naturally suppose that I by settlement -shall be well provided for, tho' now I doubt if such is likely to -prove the case. - -Yet, though well I know my brother-in-law to be a most uncommon bad -man and one who will halt at nothing to further his own gains, I -cannot believe that the law will allow him to falsely possess himself -either of my child's rank and title, or of aught else that may be his -inheritance, though I fear there is but little property left, short of -his succession to the Marquisate of Amesbury. But, honoured sir, since -it is not possible that I can come to my boy, could he not come to me? -He would assuredly be as safe in London, if not safer, under the -protection of his mother, as in Dublin where, you say, he lurketh, and -where, I cannot doubt, his uncle will take steps to bring about harm -to him. Here he would be with me and, since my uncle is now dead, it -may be that the Marquis will be more kindly disposed towards him and, -even at the worst, he cannot refuse to recognise him. Therefore, sir, -if the wherewithal could be found for bringing or sending him to -London, I would see the cost defrayed out of my small means, on which -you may rely. - -So, honoured sir, I now conclude, begging you to believe that I thank -you from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done for my -child, and that also I thank the honest man, Mr. Quin, of whom you -speak, and I do most earnestly pray that the God of the fatherless and -the orphan may reward you for all. And, sir, with my greatest -consideration to you, and a mother's fondest love to my child, whom I -pray to see ere long, I remain your much obliged and grateful, - - Louise St. Amande. - - -"Gerald," said Mr. Kinchella, when he had concluded reading this -letter to me, over which, boy-like, I shed many tears, "her ladyship -speaks well. Dublin is no place for thee. If in his lordship's -lifetime you were not safe, how shall you be so when now you alone -stand between your uncle and two peerages?" - -"Yet," I exclaimed, while in my heart there had arisen a wild desire -to once more see the dear mother from whom I had been so ruthlessly -torn, "yet how could it be accomplished? Surely the cost of a journey -to London would be great!" - -"I have still a guinea or two in my locker," said Mr. Kinchella, "if -that would avail--though I misdoubt it." - -"I have a better plan, sir," exclaimed Quin, who was also of the party -again on this occasion. "If his young lordship would not object to -voyaging to London entirely by sea, there are many cattle-ships pass -between that port and this by which he might proceed. Or, again, he -might pass from here to Chester, there being many boats to Park Gate, -or he might proceed to Milford." - -"Yet he is over-young for such a journey," said kind Mr. Kinchella; he -being, as ever, thoughtful for me. But I replied: - -"Sir, have I not had to endure worse when I was even younger? The deck -of a cattle-boat is of a certainty no worse than O'Rourke's cellar, -and, however long the passage, of a surety there will be as much -provision as was ever to be found in wandering about these streets ere -I fell in with you and Oliver. I pray you, therefore, assist me to -reach London if it be in your power." - -"How much will it cost to defray the expense?" Mr. Kinchella asked of -Quin, "by one of these boats? I fear me I have not the wherewithal to -enable him to voyage by the packet." - -"He can go for nothing, I think," replied the other, "if so be that I -speak with one of the drovers who pass over frequently; or at most for -a few shillings. He could go under the guise of that drover's boy, or -help, and at least he would be safe from danger in that condition. The -expense will be from Chester to London, if that is the route -observed." - -So we discussed matters until it was time for us to quit the college -for the night, but, ere the time came for me to journey to England, -there occurred so many other things of stirring import that here I -must pause to narrate them in their due order, so that the narrative -which I have to tell shall be clear and understandable. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -INTO THE LAND OF BONDAGE - - -Quin had made shift to lodge me in his poor room for the last day or -so and, so great and kind was his heart, that he had now announced -that, henceforth, until I was fairly on my way to London, he would not -let me be without the shelter of his roof again. - -"For," he said to me that night as we walked back to his abode, "be -sure that the chase will be hot after you directly your uncle arrives -in the packet. You are known to be once more at large and, -consequently, dangerous to his claims, therefore he must put you out -of his way somehow ere you can be seen by those who will swear to you -as being the rightful Lord St. Amande." - -"But," I asked him, for my mind had been forced of late to devise so -many shifts that I had become, perhaps, sharper and more acute than -other lads of my age. "But what if I were to appear at the Courts, or -at the Office of the King-at-Arms, and, boldly stating who and what I -am, with witnesses for testimony thereto, claim protection. Would it -not be granted me?" - -"Ay," replied Quin, thoughtfully. "I doubt not it would be granted -thee, and thy uncle would be restrained for a time at least from -falsely assuming that which is not his. But such a state of things -would not last long. Before many weeks had elapsed you would again be -missing, or perhaps not missing but, rather, found. Though I misdoubt -me but what, when found, you would not be alive." - -I shuddered at this terrifying prospect as he spoke, though too well I -knew that what he said might very easily come to pass. O'Rourke had -attempted to kill me once before and would do so again if he were paid -for it; doubtless Considine would also take my life if he had but the -slightest opportunity offered him, and there would be many more who, -in such a city as Dublin, could be hired to assassinate me. For, poor -and wretched as I was, and roaming about the streets as I did, how -easily might I not fall a prey to my uncle's designs! On the other -hand, if I could but reach England I must surely be in far greater -safety. For though my mother was, as she wrote, in ill health, it was -not possible to believe that the Marquis would not extend me his -protection as his rightful heir against so wicked a wretch and knave -as my uncle, nor that the law would not exert itself more strongly -there on my behalf than here, where it was to almost every one's -advantage to have me dead. It was the lawyers who had bought up our -estates, _my estates_, from my father and uncle at so meagre a price, -believing, or pretending to believe, that I was in truth dead; it was -not therefore to their interests to have me alive, and to be forced to -disgorge those estates. Thus I should get no help from them. Again, -O'Rourke would, if he could be found, surely swear that the real Lord -St. Amande was dead--since to obtain his reward and also to enable my -father and uncle to get the money they wanted, he had in some way -obtained a certificate of my death (I learned afterwards that he had -palmed off the dead body of a boy resembling me, which had been found -in the Liffey, as mine). - -I agreed with Oliver, therefore, and also with Mr. Kinchella, whose -counsel marched with that of my honest protector, that, at present, -Dublin was no place for me and that I must make for London to be safe. -Meanwhile I lay close in Quin's room until he should have found a -cattle-boat that was passing over to Chester, by which route it was -decided I should go, it being more expeditious and exposing me less to -the disagreeables of the sea. This was arrived at by my two friends -out of the goodness of their hearts, but, could they have foreseen -what storms and tempests were yet to be my portion both by sea and -land, I doubt if they would have thought it much worth their trouble -to secure me from a few hours more or less of discomfort on this -particular voyage. - -But, at present, there was no such boat going, the cattle being sent -over to Park Gate (where all freight for Chester was landed) only -about once every two weeks, and thus, as I say, I lay close in Quin's -room until such time as he should advise me to be ready for my -departure. - -During this time of idleness and waiting, there occurred, however, -many other things in connection with me, of which I heard from Oliver -whenever he came home at night. To wit, my uncle had arrived by the -packet and had at once proceeded to notify to the whole city, both by -his own and Considine's voice--whom he sent round to all the -coffee-houses and ordinaries, as well as to the wine clubs and -usquebaugh clubs--an errand I doubt not highly agreeable to that -creature!--as well as by advertisement in the new newsletter entitled -"Faulkner's Journal," which was just appearing, that my father had -died childless and that he had consequently assumed the rank and style -of Viscount St. Amande in the peerage of Ireland. - -"Yet," said Oliver to me as I strolled by his side, for it was his -custom to take me out a-walking for my health's sake at night after he -returned home from his work; he holding me ever by the hand, while in -the other he carried a heavy Kerry blackthorn stick, and had a pair of -pistols in his pocket, "yet he succeeded not altogether to his -satisfaction, nor will he succeed as well as he hopes. The people hiss -and hoot at him and insult him as he passes by--Mike Finnigan flung a -dead dog, which he had dragged out of the gutter, into his coach but -yesterday--and they yell and howl at him to know where the real -lord--that's you--is?" - -Then again, on another day, he told me that Mr. Kinchella had come to -his stall to tell him a brave piece of news, it being indeed no less -than the fact that the King-at-Arms had refused to enrol the -certificate of his brother having died without issue, while saying -also that, from what he gathered, he was by no means sure that such -was the case. This, Oliver said Mr. Kinchella told him, had led to a -great scene, in which my uncle had insulted the King-at-Arms, who had -had him removed from his presence in consequence, while he said even -more strongly than before that, from what was told him, he did firmly -believe that Mr. Robert St. Amande was endeavouring to bring about a -great fraud and to attempt a villainous usurpation of another's rights -to which he, at least, would be no party. Now, therefore, was my time, -we all agreed, for me to present myself and to claim my rights, and -Quin and Mr. Kinchella had even gone so far as to furbish me up in -some fitting apparel wherewith to make a more respectable appearance -in public, when everything was again thrown into disorder and my hopes -blighted by the arrival in Dublin of the new Lord Lieutenant and of -the Lord Chancellor Wyndham, than whom no one could have been worse -for my cause. He was then an utter stranger to Ireland (though -afterwards created Baron Wyndham of Finglass) in spite of having been -sent from England to be, at first, the Chief Justice of the Common -Pleas; he knew nothing of the descents of our ancient Irish families, -nor, indeed, the names of many of them, and what was worse than all, -he had known my uncle in England and was his friend. - -"So, poor lad," said Oliver to me a few days later, "thy uncle has now -the first trick o' the game. The Lord Chancellor has taken counsel at -Mr. St. Amande's suggestion with several of the nobility of Wexford, -who have told him they never heard of thy father having had a son, as -well they may not, seeing he would associate with none of them but -only with the poorer sort. He has also questioned many of the -attorneys of this city, who find it to their interest, since they have -bought thy estates, to say that either you never lived or are dead -now, or else that you were born out of wedlock. And thus----" - -"And thus?" I repeated, looking up wistfully at his kindly face. - -"And thus--and thus--poor child! thy uncle is now enrolled as the -Viscount St. Amande. But courage, courage, my dear, thou shalt yet -succeed and prosper. Thy mother's family will surely see to thy -rights, and, if not, then will not the Lord raise up a champion for -thee?" - -Long afterwards I remembered this pious aspiration of dear Oliver, who -was himself a most sincere Protestant, and when that champion had -appeared, though in how different a guise from what I should have ever -dreamed, I came to think that, for the time at least, my good, simple -friend had been granted the gift of prophecy. - -So the days went on until at last the time drew near for the next -cattle-boat to pass over to Chester, and Quin was busily engaged in -making arrangements for me to go in it when there befel so strange a -thing that I must write it down in full. - -Quin came home one night--and, ah! what a bitter December night it -was! I remember it now many, many years afterwards, and how the frost -stood upon the window panes of the garret and the cold air stole in -through those panes so that I was forced to throw on all the fuel he -could afford to keep myself from freezing. Well, I say, Quin came home -on this night in a different humour from any I had ever seen him in -before, laughing, chattering to himself, chuckling as he removed the -heavy frieze surtout he wore, and even snapping his fingers as again -and again he would burst out into his laughs. And he produced from -that surtout a bottle of nantz but three parts full, and, seizing the -kettle, filled it with water and placed it on the fire, saying that -ere we went to bed we would drink confusion to all the rascals -harbouring in Dublin that night. After which he again laughed and -grimaced. - -"What ails thee, Oliver?" I asked, "or rather, what has given thee -such satisfaction to-night?" - -He went on laughing for some time longer until I thought that I was to -be debarred from hearing what it was that amused him so much, but at -last he said: "I am rejoicing at the chance that has arisen of playing -a knave, or rather two knaves, ay, or even three, a trick. And such a -grand trick, too; a trick that shall make thy uncle curse the day he -ever heard the name of Oliver Quin." - -"My uncle!" I exclaimed. "My uncle! Why, what have he and you to do -together, Oliver?" - -"Listen," he said, and by this time the kettle was boiling and he was -making the hypsy, "listen. I have seen O'Rourke to-night and--and I -have promised, for the sum of one hundred guineas, to deliver thee -into his hands for transportation to the colonies, to Virginia. To -Virginia, my lad, thou art bound, so that thou shalt plague thy uncle -no more. To Virginia. Ha, ha, ha!" and he burst into so loud a laugh -that the rafters of the garret shook with it. - -To be sure I understood that Oliver was but joking me--if I had not -known his honest nature, his equally honest laugh would have told me -so--yet I wondered what this strange discourse should mean! He had, I -think, been drinking ere he entered, though not more than enough to -excite him and make him merry, but still it was evident to see that, -over and above any potations he might have had, something had -happened. So I said: - -"Go on, Oliver, and tell me about O'Rourke and the plantations, and -when I am to be sold into slavery." - -"I met O'Rourke this evening," he said, "as I happened into a -hipping-hawd[1] on my way home. There the villain was, seated on a -cask and dressed as fine as fivepence. On his pate was a great ramilie -wig, so please you! clapped a-top of it, and with an evil cock to one -side of it, a gold laced hat. He wore a red plush coat--though I doubt -me if the fashioner ever made it for him! with, underneath, a blue -satin waistcoat embroidered; he had a solitaire stuck into his shirt, -gold garters to the knees of his breeches, and, in fine, looked for -all the world as if he had come into a fortune and had been spending -part of it in buying the cast-off wardrobe of a nobleman." - -"But the Virginia plantations, Oliver!" I said; "the plantations!" - -"I am coming to them--or, at least, thou art going to them! But first -let me tell thee of thy old friend and janitor, O'Rourke. When I -entered he was bawling for some sherris, but, on seeing me, he turned -away from his boon companions and exclaimed, 'What, my jolly butcher, -what my cock o' the walk, oh, oh! What, my gay protector of injured -youth and my palmer-off of boys for noble lords! How stands it with -thee? Art cold?--'tis a cold night--tho' thou wilt be in a colder -place if my Lord St. Amande catches holt on thee. But 'tis cold, I -say; you must drink, my noble slaughterer. What will you? A thimbleful -of sherris, maybe, or a glass of Rosa Solis? Here, Madge,' to the -waitress, 'give the gentleman to drink,' and he lugged out of his -pocket a great silk purse full of golden guineas and clinked it before -us. - -"'You seem rich and merry, Mr. O'Rourke,' I said. 'Plenty of money -now, and brave apparel. Whence comes it all? Hast thou been smuggling -off more boys or dragging out some more dead bodies from the river? It -seems a thriving trade, at least!' This upset him, Gerald, so he said, -'Hark ye, Mr. Quin, this is no joking matter. When it comes to -smuggling boys, it seems to me you are the smuggler more than I. Yet,' -he went on, 'let me have a word with thee,' whereon he got off his -cask and came over to me. But as he did so he paused and turned round -on the men drinking with him, and said, 'Will you stay drinking all -night, you dogs? Get home, get home, I say. I will pay for no more -liquor to-night; be off, I say. Finish your drink and go,' which the -men did as obediently as though they were really dogs, touching their -caps and wishing the ruffian and myself and Madge--who was half asleep -beside her bottles--good-night. - -"'Now, Quin,' said O'Rourke, drawing a chair up to where I was -sitting, and resting his hands on the handle of his sword, which he -stuck between his legs, 'listen to me, for I have matter of importance -to say to thee, which thy opportune appearance has put into my head!' - -"'If 'tis any villainy,' I said, 'which, coming from you, is like -enough----' - -"But he interrupted me with, 'Tush, tush! What you call villainy we -gentlemen call business. But interrupt no more; listen. Quin, you know -well enough that the lad you harbour is no more the Lord St. Amande -than I am. I say you know it,' and here he winked at me a devilish -wink, and put out his finger and touched me on the chest, while I, -waiting to see what was coming, nodded gravely. 'The young lord, I -tell you, is dead, drowned in the Liffey--have I not the certificate? -Therefore, Quin--drink, man, drink and warm thyself--his uncle is now -most undoubtedly, both by inheritance and the Lord Chancellor's -enrolment, the rightful lord. But,' and here he paused and looked at -me and, when he thought I was not observing, filled my glass again, -'his lordship wishes for peaceable possession of his rights and to -harm none, not even thee who hast so grievously slandered him and his. -Therefore, if you will do that which is right there is money for you, -Quin; money enough to set you up as a flesher on your own account, and -a trader in beasts; and, for the evil you have done, there shall be no -more thought of it.' - -"'And what is it I am wanted to do?' I asked, while I made a pretence -of faltering, and said, 'If I were sure that the lad I have in keeping -were not truthfully the young lord----' - -"'The young lord is dead, I tell thee--take some more drink, 'tis -parlous cold--the young lord is dead. I know it.' - -"' And therefore you want me to----?' - -"'Do this. My lord, by whom I mean his uncle, can now, by warrant of -the Lord Chancellor, assume his proper station, and hath done so. -Only, since he is a man of peace, he wisheth not to fall foul of the -young impostor, and would-be usurper, _as you know he is_, Quin,' and -again his evil eye drooped at me, 'nor to proceed either to punish him -for his cheat nor to have to defend himself from any attempts your lad -might make against him in the manner of impugning his title. And, -therefore--to use thy thoughts--what would be best is that he should -be got out of the way.' - -"'By murder?' I asked him. - -"'Nay, nay, never! The Lord forfend. We are gentlemen, not assassins, -and so that all should be done peaceably and quietly it would be best -to proceed as follows.' - -"Here I again interrupted him, Gerald, by saying, 'If I were only -sure, if I could be but sure----' - -"'Sure!' he exclaimed, rapping the table so loudly that the maid -started from her nodding to stare at us. 'Sure! Sure! Man, I tell -you the boy is dead.' Then, glancing suspiciously at the girl and -lowering his voice, he went on again, 'We will proceed as follows. -There is a friend of mine who maketh it his business to consign the -ne'er-do-wells and prison scourings of this city to Virginia, where he -sells them to the tobacco planters for what they will fetch over and -above what he has given for them. Now for a boy such as young -Gerald--pish! I mean him whom you _call_ young Gerald--he would give -as much as twenty guineas, especially on my description of him. But,' -he said, again touching me with his finger on the breast so that I -felt disposed to fell him to the floor, 'but that is not all. For so -that his lordship, who is a noble-minded gentleman if ever there was -one, may peaceably enter upon and enjoy his own, subject to no -disturbance nor thwarting, he will give two hundred guineas to me for -having him safely put aboard my friend's brig, the _Dove_, and shipped -to Newcastle, on the Delaware, where he trades.' - -"'Two hundred guineas,' I said, appearing to dwell upon it; ''tis a -goodly sum, and the boy might do well in Virginia. He is a lad of -parts.' - -"'Ay,' he replied, forgetting himself and that he pretended not to -know you, 'he is. Smart and brisk, and looking a good two years older -than his age. But of the two hundred guineas, all is not for you. I -must have my share.' - -"'That being?' I asked. - -"'One half,' he replied. 'And think on it, Quin. One hundred golden -guineas for thee and more, much more than that; for if you do this -service for my lord he will absolve thee from thy contumacy and thine -insults, both to his name and to the face of his wife--for his wife -she is--and also to Mr. Considine, who is a gay and lightsome blade as -ever strutted.' - -"'That is something,' I said, giving now what appeared my adhesion to -his scheme. 'Perhaps I spoke too roughly to them, and I would not lie -in the clink for it. Yet to kidnap a boy--for such 'twill be at best, -and he, too, sheltering with me and trusting me--is a grave and -serious thing, which, if discovered, might send me to the plantations -also, if not the gibbet.' - -"'Have no fear,' he said; 'my lord shall give you a quittance to hold -you harmless.' - -"'He must,' I made answer, 'and more; I must have an earnest of my -payment. I will attempt nothing until I receive an earnest.' - -"He looked round at the sleeping serving-maid as I spoke, and then he -drew forth his silk purse again and shook some guineas out into the -palm of his hand, and whispered to me, 'How much will serve, Quin? Eh? -Five guineas. Eh? What! More!' - -"'Ay, more!' I said. 'Many more. That purse contains forty pieces if -one. Give me twenty-five as an earnest and twenty-five to-morrow when -we meet again and then, provided that I have the remainder an hour -before your friend's brig sails, the boy shall be hoisted on board -insensible, and the _Dove_ may take him to Virginia or the devil -either for aught I care.' - -"And so," Oliver concluded, "he did it. He paid the guineas -down--there they are; look at them, lad! And thou art, therefore, -bound for Virginia, there to spend thy life, or at least a portion of -it, in slavery on the plantations. Ho, ho, ho!" and again he laughed -until the rafters rung once more. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE SPRINGE IS SET - - -Thus Oliver concluded his narrative of his meeting with O'Rourke. - -What came of that meeting you are now to see. - -But first I must tell you what his own scheme was, and how he intended -to work out upon the head of Robert St. Amande the result of his own -villainy. My uncle had been married in early life to a young lady of -good family and some means--upon which latter he had more or less -managed to exist for several years--belonging to the South of -Scotland. She had, however, died in giving birth to a son ere they had -been married a twelvemonth, and it was as guardian of this son and -custodian of his late wife's property, which that son was to inherit -when he attained his twenty-first year, that he had, as I say, -principally existed. At least he had done so until he devised the -scheme of assisting my father to ease himself of the family property, -when, naturally, he found more money coming his way than he had -heretofore done, and so, perhaps, ceased his inroads on what remained -of that which was due to my cousin on reaching his majority. - -Whether, however, Roderick St. Amande--who was named after his -grandfather, known as Rich Roderick of Dumfries---would ever live to -come into his patrimony, or what remained of it, was a very much -questioned subject. For the youth, who was some two years older than -I, though not a wit bigger, if so big, had already taken to the most -dreadful courses and, young as he was, might sometimes be seen reeling -tipsy about the streets of Dublin (in which city his father thought -fit to generally keep him); sometimes squabbling and rioting with -the watch at nights, and sometimes leering over the blinds of the -coffee-houses and wine clubs at any comely girl who happened to be -passing up or down the streets. Moreover, I suppose, because since my -birth he had always regarded me as an interloper who had come in -between him and the future peerages of St. Amande and Amesbury, as, -had I never been born, he must have eventually succeeded to them, he -had always treated me with great cruelty so long as it was in his -power to do so. When I was little better than a baby and he an urchin -he saw fit to purloin or destroy the toys given me by my mother and my -reckless and unhappy father; because I loved a terrier which a tenant -had given me as a pup, that unfortunate creature was found drowned in -a pool shortly after Roderick had been seen in the neighbourhood, and -there were countless other ill treatments which he pleased to practise -towards me. And at the time when I was consigned to O'Rourke by my -father, who, in his then bemused state, probably did think that he was -only secreting me for a while without dreaming of the harm to be -attempted on me, this young villain, as I afterwards knew, was one of -the prime instigators of that ruffian to make away with me. And, to -conclude, when it was known that I had escaped from O'Rourke's hands -he it was who, either on his own behalf or on that of his father, -raised the hue and cry upon me until, when my own father lay a-dying -in his garret, they saw fit to shift their tactics and give out that I -was dead, which both father and son would have been consumedly -rejoiced to have me. - -Now, Oliver Quin knew all this and accordingly hated him as much as he -loved me, and he knew also of the young man's habits, of his love for -the bottle and for bottle-songs, of his revellings and reelings in the -streets by nights and in the early mornings, sometimes in the company -of Considine and sometimes in that of worse almost than he; and he -formed his plans accordingly when approached by O'Rourke. Those plans -were no less, as doubtless you have ere now perceived or guessed, than -to take a great revenge on this youth for all his and his father's -transgressions towards me, and, in fact, to ship him off to Virginia -in the Dove instead of me and in my place. - -Such a scheme was easier to be accomplished than might at first be -supposed, for more reasons than one. To begin with, when O'Rourke met -Oliver on the second night to unfold his plans and concert measures -with him, one of the first things the vagabond told my friend was that -he must by no means appear to be concerned in my sending away. "It -will not do for me to be seen in the matter, Quin," he said on -that occasion, on which, because of its importance, they were now -closeted in a private room of the house where they had encountered -each other overnight; "it will not do. Fortune has caused me to be -mixed up before in one or two unpleasant jobs with the Lord Mayor's -myrmidons--the devil shoot them!--and I must keep quiet awhile. But -that matters not, if you are to be trusted. For see, now, see! The -_Dove_ saileth the instant the wind shifts into the east, which it -seems like enough to do at any moment. Therefore must you be ready -with the freight which we would have. The captain, a right honest man, -will send you word overnight at change of wind that he will up-anchor -at dawn, and that, as dawn breaks, you must be alongside of him. He -will see that the boy answers to my description--though I have said he -is a year or so older than he actually is, so as to make him appear -more worth the money--and, when he is aboard, you will receive the -payment. Thus, Quin, you will have pouched one hundred and twenty -guineas, and my lord will stand thy friend." - -"Since the wind shifts, or seems like to shift ere long," Oliver -replied, fooling him to the end, "let us conclude. Pay me the -remaining seventy five pieces and I will have him ready at any -moment." - -"Nay, nay, softly," the other answered. "Thou wouldst not trust me too -far, I guess, therefore neither must I be too confident. Yet listen! I -shall not be on the quay when you put off to the _Dove_, but one who -has served me before will be. An honest gentleman he is, too, just -back from England where he hath been employed nosing out a Jacobite -plot in the north, and to him you will show the lad, whereon he will -pay you the guerdon and give you also a letter from my lord which will -hold you harmless." - -"Is he known to any of us, or to--to, well! to the law and its -officers?" - -"To none. He hath but just arrived and knows not a soul in Dublin -except me and one or two of my friends." - -"So be it," said Oliver, well enough pleased to think that this -"honest gentleman" would not know the difference between me and my -cousin. "So be it. Now, it will be best that the boy should be drugged -ere I set out with him--is it not so?--and wrapped in some long cloak -so that----" - -"Ay, ay," replied the ruffian, "you are brisk. It shall be so. Get a -long frieze cloak such as that you wear--the guineas will indemnify -you for its cost and buy many another--and for the stupefying him, -why, either a dram well seasoned or a crack on the mazard will do his -business for him. Only, be sure not to kill him outright. For if you -do, you will be twenty guineas short of your count, since he will be -no use to the captain then, and you will be forced to fling him into -the Liffey for the prawns to make a meal of." - -Thus the wretch, who had no more compunction for my life than that it -would be twenty guineas lost to him whom he now considered his -accomplice, arranged everything, and after a few more instructions to -Oliver as well as a further payment of twenty-five guineas as Oliver -insisted (two of which afterwards turned out to be Jacks, or bad ones) -they parted--the thing being, as O'Rourke remarked gleefully, now well -arranged and in train. - -"But," he said for his last word, "keep thy eye on the weathercock and -be ready for the captain's hint, which he will send to this house. Let -not the _Dove_ sail without her best passenger." - -"She shall not," answered Oliver. "Be sure of that." - -"And now, Gerald, for so I shall call thee, lord though thou art," -Oliver said to me that night, "we must think for the means for seizing -on thy cousin. I know enough of the weather and the many signs it -gives to feel sure that it is changing. It gets colder, which presages -a north easterly wind, and this will carry the _Dove_ out of the river -and to sea. Therefore, it behoves us to be busy. To-night is Monday, -by Wednesday at daybreak, if I mistake not, the brig will be away. -Therefore, to-morrow night we must have the young princock in our -hands. Now, how shall we proceed?" - -"He is almost nightly at Macarthy's tavern--I have seen him in -passing, when I was hiding with the beggars. Yet," I said, breaking -off, "oh, think, Oliver, of what you are about! If you are made -accountable for this, you may be sent to prison or worse even." - -"Tush, tush! lad!" he answered. "Have no fear for me. Yet it is kind -of thee to think of it. Still, there is nought to fear. He goes not on -board until I have thy uncle's quittance, though he may say little -enough, fearing to commit himself overmuch; and for the rest, when he -is gone, why we go, too--only another gait." - -"We, too! Why, where shall we go?" - -"Where? Why, to England, lad. To London. To thy mother. Shall we not -have the wherewithal? We have fifty guineas already; we shall have -more than double by Wednesday morning; and then away for Holyhead or -Liverpool by the first packet that sails, and so to London." - -"But, Oliver, what will you do to live? The guineas will not last for -ever." - -"No, that is true; but they will go far, and with them I can traffic -as a master and not a man. Or I can hoard them for thy use" (how -unselfish he was, I thought!) "and go back to work as a journeyman--they -say none need want for work in London--and so be ever near to watch and -ward over thee." - -"Oliver," I exclaimed, "I think that even now the Lord has raised up -that champion for me of whom you spoke. It seems that you are mine." - -"Nay, there will arise a better for thee than I can ever be; but until -he comes I must, perforce, do my best. Now let us make our plans." - -And these are the plans we arranged. Knowing that there was no longer -any search likely to be made for me--since 'twas certain that those -who sought my ruin thought it was as good as accomplished--I was to -sally forth next night disguised, and was to prowl about Macarthy's -tavern and other haunts of my abandoned cousin until I had safely run -him to earth. After this Quin was to be summoned by me from the -hipping-hawd where he would be, and, presuming that the captain of the -_Dove_ had sent the expected word, he was then to keep Mr. Roderick -St. Amande in sight until we could secure him. - -There was nought else to arrange, for if these plans but fell out as -we hoped all must go well; nothing could upset them. - -And the next day, when it came, seemed to give promise of one thing at -least happening as we desired, the wind was blowing strong from the -N.N.E., a wind that would carry the _Dove_ well beyond Bray Head, did -it but hold for thirty-six hours. - -At six o'clock that night, therefore, I, having made a slight meal of -some food Oliver had let in the garret for me, banked up the fire, put -out the light, and sallied forth to follow the instructions he had -given me to find our quarry. Of compunctions as to what I was about to -do I had none, as, perhaps, it was not to be expected I should have. -For, consider. That which was to happen to this cousin of mine was but -the portion which his father had endeavoured to deal out to me, and, -as I learnt an hour or so later, was a portion which Roderick knew was -intended for me and over which he gloated in his cups. Therefore, I -say, I felt no pity for him, and I set about to perform my part of the -task with determination to go through with it to the best of my power. -My rags were now discarded, and the clothes which I wore, and which -Oliver had purchased for me with some of O'Rourke's guineas, were in -themselves a disguise. To wit, I wore a fine silk drugget suit lined -with silk shagreen, for which he had given six of the pieces; my -muslin ruffles were of the best, a pair of long riding-boots covered -my stockings to the knees, and a handsome roquelaure enveloped me and -kept the cold out. To add to my disguise as well as my appearance, I -wore a bag wig, and at my side--Oliver said I might find some use for -it ere long--a good sound rapier. Who could have guessed that in the -youth thus handsomely apparelled, and looking any age near twenty-two -or three--the wig and boots giving me an appearance much above my -actual years--they saw the beggar who, a fortnight before, slunk about -the streets of Dublin dressed as a scarecrow! - -The wind still blew from the same quarter as I passed down the street -in which Quin dwelt, while one or two passers-by turned to look at the -unaccustomed sight of a well-dressed young man in such a -neighbourhood, and as I went along I meditated on all that was before -me. Moreover, I could not but muse on how strange it was that such a -worldly-wise villain as O'Rourke, to say nothing of those others, my -uncle and Considine, could have fallen so easily into the trap of -Oliver and have been willing to believe in his turning against me thus -treacherously. Yet, I told myself, 'twas not so very strange after -all. They could never have dreamt, no mortal man could possibly have -dreamt, that he should have conceived so audacious and bold a scheme -of turning the tables on them so completely as to dare to kidnap his -very employer's own child in place of the one he wanted to have -transported to the colonies. And, when they trusted him, if they did -in very truth trust him, they only did so to a small extent, since, if -he failed to produce me and to yield me over to the tender clutches of -the captain of the _Dove_, they had but lost a handful of guineas and -could make a cast for me again. Lastly, as I learned more surely when -I grew older, when men are such uncommon rogues as these three were, -they are often bound, whether they will or no, to hope that others -with whom they have dealings are as great rogues as they themselves, -and to make their plans and rely upon that hope accordingly. - -Thus meditating and resolving on what I had to do, I drew near to -Macarthy's tavern--then one of the most fashionable in the city--and, -raising myself on tiptoes, I peeped over the blind and saw my -gentleman within regaling himself on a fine turbot, with, to keep him -company, another youth and two young women, much bedizened and -bedeckt. These I knew, having seen them before, to belong to the -company of actors who had been engaged to play at the new theatre in -Aungier Street. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE BIRD DRAW'S NEAR - - -And now it behoved me to pause and consider as to what course it would -be best for me to follow. It was as yet but seven of the clock, and -Quin quitted not his stall until eight, so that it would be -impossible, or rather useless, to apprise him of my cousin's -whereabouts. Moreover, nothing could be done at this early hour of the -evening, while, on the other hand, when night came on and it grew late -it was almost a certainty that Roderick would be in his cups. Yet it -would not do to lose sight of him, for should he wander forth from -Macarthy's, as was like enough seeing the company he was in, we might -not find him again that night, in which case the _Dove_, if she sailed -at dawn, would have to go without my gentleman. - -So I determined to enter the tavern. Of recognition from Roderick -there was but little likelihood--nay, there was none at all. It was -six years since he had seen me (though scarcely many more days since I -had seen him without his knowing it); six years since he had drowned -my pup, there recollection of which made my hatred of him now stir -afresh in me; years during which I had been at school in two or three -different towns in the country, and also had been in England; and -these years had made much difference between the child of ten and the -youth of sixteen. And, as I have written, what with my height, which -was considerable, and my dress, which was more suited to a young man -of twenty than to me, there was no possibility of Roderick knowing me. -So I determined to enter the tavern, I say, and to ensconce myself in -a box near where my cousin and the actresses sat, and which from the -window I could perceive was vacant, and thus glean what news I might -of his intended action that night. My entrance caused some little -attention, the room not being well filled as yet, and "What a pretty -fellow!" said one of the girls to the other in a very audible voice as -I took my seat in the place I had selected. - -"I' faith!" replied the second, a painted minx, like her friend, with -half a score of patches on her face--"pretty enough, but too much like -a girl. For my part, I prefer to look upon a man. Now, Roddy, here, -hath none too much beauty yet enough, or will have when he is a man." - -"When he is a man!" my cousin said, "when he is a man, indeed! Man -enough any way to find the wherewithal for giving you a good supper, -Mistress Doll, which it strikes me you would not get from your wages -nor from any of your 'manly' actors who strut about the booths with -you, nor from the half-starved looking playwrights I have seen lurking -about the theatre doors." - -"There! there! Roddy!" said the one who had spoken last, swallowing -his abuse as best she might, "there, there! Take no offence where none -is meant, and, for the supper, 'tis most excellent. Yet the claret -runs low, my lad, and I am thirsty." - -"Thirsty!" the gracious Roderick replied; "that you are always, Doll, -like all your crew. But claret is useless to such as thee! Here, -drawer, waiter, come here. Bring us some of the brandy punch that -Macarthy knows so well how to brew, and quick--dost hear?" - -"The score, sir," I heard the man whisper, "is large already. And I -have to account to the master----" - -"The devil take you, and the score, and your master, too! Is not my -father the Honourable Viscount St. Amande, thou rogue, and can he not -pay for all the liquor I drink as well as what my friends consume? Go, -fetch it, I say." - -Meanwhile I sat in my box sipping a small measure of claret--which -stuff I wondered some could be found to approve so much of--and -regarding sideways the others. The punch being brought, my cousin, -with a lordly air, bade the other young man ladle it out, telling him -coarsely to keep the glasses of the girls well filled, since they were -capable of drinking the Liffey dry if 'twere full of liquor; and the -women, taking no notice of these remarks, to which and similar ones -they were probably well used, fell to discussing some play in which -they were shortly to appear. - -"The lines are fair enough," said the elder of the two, whom Roderick -had fallen foul of, to the other; "yet there are too many of them, and -the action halts. Moreover, as for plot--why, there's none." - -"'Tis the failing of our modern playwrights," said her companion, -"that there never seems to be any, so that the audiences soon weary of -us. Yet, if at Lincoln's Inn or Drury Lane they would try more for the -plot, I feel sure that----" - -"Plot!" here, however, interrupted my well beloved cousin, who was by -this time approaching intoxication, and adding noise to his other -modes of entertaining his guests, "who's talking about plots? Plots, -forsooth!" And now he smiled feebly, and then hiccoughed, "Plots, eh? -I know a plot, and a good one, too." - -"With submission, sir," said Doll, looking angrily at him--for she had -evidently not forgiven his remarks--"we were talking about the -difficulty that 'half-starved looking playwrights' found in imagining -new plots for the playhouses and our crew, the actors. It follows, -therefore, that even though the noble Mr. Roderick St. Amande should -know a good plot, as he says, it could avail us nothing. He surely -could not sink his nobility so low as to communicate such a thing to -the poor mummers." - -"Ha, ha!" answered Roderick, "but couldn't he, though. I' faith, I'll -tell you a good plot--take some more drink, I say!--and when next some -snivel-nosed dramatist wants a--a--what d'ye call it, a--plot, tell -him this." - -"We are all attention, sir. This is indeed an honour. We have of late -had more than one noble lord as patron and poetaster--it seems we have -another in store. Nell," to her companion, "listen carefully." - -"Doll, thou art a fool and a vixen too, especially when thou hast -supped, as the black fellow calls it, not wisely but too well. Yet, -listen. Thou hast heard of my uncle's death----" - -"Verily we have," interrupted Doll again. "All Dublin has. A noble -lord buried by charity, and that not the charity of his relatives; a -doubtful succession, an impugned title--ha! ha!--who has not heard of -that! Yet, if this is the plot, 'tis useless for us. It may do in -absolute real life, but not upon our boards. 'Twould be thought so -unnatural and inhuman that, if we endeavoured to represent the thing, -we should be hissed or worse." - -"In truth, I have a mind to beat you," the now drunken youth roared -out, "yet I will not. Gim'-me some drink. A plot, I said. Well, now, -hear. There is a beggar's brat whom others are endeavouring to foist -on us as my uncle's child--thus commenceth the plot--but they will not -succeed. Not succeed? you ask. I will tell you. And there's the -continuation of the plot. No, they will not succeed. To-morrow, early, -that beggar's brat pays the penalty of his attempted cheat--he passes -away, disappears for ever. Where to? No, not to the grave, though I -trust he may find it ere long, but to the plantations. What! the bowl -is empty? Thy throat's a lime-kiln, Doll. To the plantations, I say, -to the plantations. That should kill the dog, if aught will. If the -work and the fever and the beatings, to say nothing of the bad food, -will not do it, why, perhaps the Indians will, and so we shall have no -more disputed successions nor impugned titles. Now, say, is it not a -good plot? Let's have more drink!" And he sank back into his chair. - -The woman Doll regarded him for a moment with her steely blue eyes, -what time he shut his own and seemed about to slumber--the other youth -had long since gone off into a drowsy and, I suppose, tipsy nap. And -then she whispered to her companion, "I wish I did but know where that -beggar's brat he speaks of were to be found. I would mar his plot for -him." And the companion nodded and said she too wished they had never -consented to come with him to supper. - -Meanwhile, I, who had also feigned sleep so that, if they should look -at me, they would not think I had overheard them--though in truth I -think they had forgotten my presence, since I was shielded from their -sight by the box sides--called for my reckoning, and, paying it, rose -to depart. For it was time now that I should go and seek Oliver. As I -passed down the room the girls looked at me and then at each other, -but said nothing; and so I went swiftly out and to the place appointed -to meet Quin. - -"Come quickly," I said to Oliver, who was on the watch for me and came -out directly I put my head in the door, "come quickly. He is drunk now -in the company of another youth who is as bad or worse than he, and of -two actresses, neither of whom would, I believe, raise a finger to -help him even though we slew him. He has insulted them and they will -do nothing." - -Therefore we hurried along, but as we went Quin told me we must be -careful. First, the streets were full of people as yet, so that, if we -endeavoured to carry him off, we should of a certainty arouse -attention; and, next, the people at Macarthy's would be sure to keep -an eye to him, more especially as he owed them a reckoning. And he -told me that the captain of the _Dove_ had sent to say he sailed at -daybreak; "so that," he said, "if nought mars our scheme--which heaven -forfend may not happen--we have the bird in the springe, and then for -London to your lady mother by the packet boat which sails, I hear, -to-morrow, at noon. And, Gerald, thou look'st every inch a young lord -in thy brave apparel--she will scarce believe you have been hiding -amongst the beggars of Dublin." - -By now we had returned to the outside of Macarthy's and, again peering -over the blind of the bow-window, we saw that Roderick and his boon -companions were still there. He and the young man with him were, -however, by now fast asleep, and the two girls were talking together -we could see; while, from the far end of the room, the waiter who had -served me and them was seated on a chair yawning lustily, and every -now and then regarding the party with his half open eye. Of others -present there were none, perhaps because it was a cold, inclement -night, though one or two of the boxes seemed to have been recently -occupied, as did some of the tables in the middle of the room--near -one of which our party sat judging by the disarranged napery and empty -dishes left upon them. - -But, as we gazed, we observed that the actresses appeared to have -grown tired of the company they were in, and, softly rising, they went -over to the hangers and took down their camlet cloaks and hoods and -prepared to depart. The one called Doll took from her purse a piece of -silver which she flung to the waiter, and said some words to him -accompanied by a gesture towards my cousin and the other youth and -also by a laugh--perhaps she said that 'twas all the vail he would get -that night!--and then without more ado she passed with her friend out -into the street. But they came forth so swiftly that Oliver and I had -no time to do more than withdraw our eyes from the window and appear -to be talking, as though we were acquaintances met in the street, -before they were both upon us, and, fixing her eye upon me, Doll -recognised me again in a moment. "Why," she said to her friend, with -her saucy laugh, "'tis the pretty youth who was in the tavern but an -hour ago." And then, turning to me, she went on, "Young sir, you -should be a-bed by now. The night air is bad for--for young gentlemen. -Yet, perhaps, you have a tryst here with some maid, or"--but now she -halted in her speech and, bending her brows upon me, said--"or, no, it -cannot be that you are concerned in the foul plot Mr. St. Amande spoke -of within. No, no! That cannot be. You did not appear to know him, nor -he you. Yet, again, that might be part of the plot, too." And once -more she looked steadfastly at me. - -I would have answered her but Oliver took the word now, and speaking -up boldly to her, said: - -"Madam, if my young master be concerned at all in the plot of which -you speak it is to thwart it, as, by good chance, he most assuredly -will do. Therefore, since you say it is 'foul,' by which I gather that -you do not approve of it, I pray you pass on and leave us to do our -best." - -She looked at his great form and at me, her friend standing always -close by her side, and then she said to me: - -"Who are you? No friend of his, assuredly. And if such be the case, as -it seems, then I heartily wish that your attempts to thwart his villainy -may be successful. Oh! 'tis a shame--a shame." - -"I guessed you thought as much," I answered in reply to her, "from -what I overheard you say within. Therefore, I make bold to tell you -that he will doubtless be so thwarted. And, if you would hear the -ending of the plot which he described to you to-night, and which I -assure you was incomplete, you will have to wait a little longer. -Then, if I have the honour to encounter you again, it shall be told. -Meanwhile, if you wish us well, I beg of you to leave us. He may come -out at any moment when your presence would interfere with our plans." - -"So be it," she replied, "and so farewell, and fortune go with you. -And--stay--I should like to hear the ending of that gallant and -courteous young gentleman's plot; a line to Mistress Doll Morris at -the New Theatre in Aungier Street will reach me. Farewell." - -"Farewell, my pretty page," said the other saucily, and so they passed -down the street, I telling them as they went that, doubtless, they -would hear something ere long. - -And now the evening was gone, the passers-by were getting fewer, the -shops were all shut; soon Macarthy's would shut too. The time for -action was at hand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -TRAPPED - - -And still the night drew on and we waited outside, sheltering -ourselves in the stoop of an empty house opposite Macarthy's, or -walking up and down the street to keep ourselves warm as well as not -to attract observation to our loitering. Yet, indeed, there was but -little fear that we should be observed, since there were but few -people in the streets. A coach or hackney carriage would now and again -rumble past; once the watch went by; two of his Majesty's sailors -passed down singing a jovial chaunt about the West Indies and the -girls and the drinking there--but that was all. The city was fast -going to bed. - -Knowing that my hopeful cousin was intoxicated by now, we had somewhat -altered our plans, and we had determined that, directly we could seize -him, we would carry him down to the boat which we had ready for us at -Essex Stairs. Once there, we would await the arrival of O'Rourke's -"honest gentleman" with the remaining hundred guineas and my uncle's -acquittal, the form of which was already arranged; after which we -would pull off to the _Dove_, which lay below Dublin in mid stream, -and deposit our cargo with the captain, and take his guineas too. -Resistance from our prize we had no fear of. I could myself have -easily mastered him in the state he now was, while for any noise he -might make--why, a gag would stop that and would be perfectly -understood and approved of by the captain, should Roderick go aboard -thus muzzled. It would, doubtless, not be the first victim he had -shipped for Virginia in such a condition. - -Yet there was no necessity for even this, as you shall now see, since -my cousin's own actions, and his love for the bottle, led him to fall -into our hands as easily as the leaf falls from the tree when autumn -winds are blowing. - -As we stood in the street waiting for him and his friend to come -forth--who we hoped would soon part from him and seek his own home--we -heard a hubbub and loud noises in Macarthy's, as well as -expostulations in the drawer's voice, and then, suddenly, the door was -flung open and out into the street there came, as though they had both -been thrust forth together by strong hands, my cousin and his guest. - -"Now what may this mean?" whispered Oliver, while, as he spoke, he -drew me further within the porch, or stoop, so that we were quite -invisible behind its thick pillars. - -It took not long to learn. My cousin was mightily flustered as 'twas -easy to see; his hat was awry as also was his steinkirk, his face was -flushed and he breathed forth most dreadful execrations against the -tavern first, and then his companion, who, perhaps because of his -longer sleep within, seemed more cool and calm. - -"I tell thee 'tis a scurvy trick, Garrett," bawled Roderick, after he -had finished kicking at the tavern door, which was now fast closed, -while the lights within were extinguished; and after he had yelled -through the keyhole at them that "they should be indicted on the -morrow." "A scurvy trick, and worst of all from a guest as thou art. -But it shall not pass, and I will have satisfaction." And he began -tugging at the sword by his side, though he lurched a good deal as he -did so. - -"Mr. St. Amande," replied the other, "satisfaction you shall indeed -have, as I will for the blow you dealt me in there, which led to our -ignominious expulsion. And you may have it now, or in the park -to-morrow morning, or when and where you will. But, previously, let me -tell you, sir, that when you say that I am any party to the departure -of the young ladies, or that I know where they are, or am about to -rejoin them, you lie. Now, sir, shall we draw?" - -"Where are they then? I did but doze, yet when I opened my eyes they -were gone," but he made no attempt further to unsheath his weapon. - -"As I have now told you twice, I know not. But I cannot stay parleying -here with you all night. A friend will wait upon you to-morrow. Frank -Garrett must wipe out that blow. I trust my friend's visit will be -agreeable. Sir, I wish you a good night," and he took off his richly -gold laced hat with great ceremony and, bowing solemnly, withdrew. My -cousin gazed with drunken gravity after him and hiccoughed more than -once, and muttered, "A nice ending truly to a supper party. The girls -gone, insulted by landlord and--and the reckoning to pay and fight -to-morrow--Garrett knows every passado to be learnt at the fence -school. I must see to it. And there is no more to drink." Here he -reeled over to the tavern again from the middle of the road, and, -beating on the door, called out to, them to come down and give him -another draught and he would forget their treatment of him while the -reckoning should be paid in the morning. But his noise produced no -other reply than the opening of a window upstairs, from which a man -thrust forth his head covered with a nightcap and bade him begone or -the watch should be summoned. While for the reckoning, the man said, -his honour might be sure that that would have to be paid since he knew -his honour's father well. After which the window was closed. - -But now, when once more all was still, Oliver and I stepped forth, and -the former taking off his hat with great civility and bowing, said, -"Sir, we have been witnesses of how ill you have been treated, both by -your friend and the tavern-keeper. And 'tis a sin to thrust forth so -gallant a gentle man when he wishes another cup." - -"I do, plaguily," muttered Roderick. - -"Therefore, young sir, if you require another draught I can show you -where it may be obtained." - -"Can you? Then you are a right good fellow, though who and what you -are I know not from Adam. Some city put, I suppose, who wishes to be -seen in company with a gentleman!"--'twas ever my cousin's habit to -make such amiable speeches as these, and thereby to encounter the ill -will of those whom he addressed. "But, however, I care not whom I am -seen in company with. I'll go along with you." Then, suddenly, his eye -lighted on me, whereon he exclaimed, "What, my gentleman! Why, 'twas -you who were in Macarthy's earlier in the evening. I suppose you left -ere I awoke from my doze. Are you, too, stranded for a draught and -obliged to be indebted to this good--humph!--person for procuring you -one?" - -"Even so," I answered, thinking it best to fall in with his -supposition, whereon Oliver said: - -"Come on then, young sirs, or all the taverns will be closed. Yet, -stay, will you have a sup ere we set forth. I have the wherewithal in -my pocket," and he thrust his hand in his coat and pulled out a great -flask he had provided to keep out the morning air from our lungs when -we should be on the river. - -"First come, first served," he said, winking at me, which action being -under an oil lamp I could well perceive, and he handed me the flask -which I put to my mouth and pretended to drink from, though not a drop -did I let pass my lips. "And you, sir," he went on, turning to my -cousin, "will you try a draught? 'Tis of the right kind--and--hush! a -word--the gauger has never taken duty on it." - -"So much the better. Hand over," said Roderick, "the night air is raw. -Ah!" He placed the bottle to his lips as he uttered this grunt of -satisfaction and took a long deep draught, and then returned the flask -enviously to Oliver and bade him lead to the tavern he knew of, where -he promised he would treat us both to a bowl of punch ere the night -was done. - -But Oliver (as he told me afterwards) not thinking it advisable to be -seen in more public houses than necessary--considering the business we -were on--purposely led the way to one near the river of which he knew, -by as circuitous a route as possible, so that, ere we had gone half a -mile, Roderick called a halt for another refresher. All the way we had -come he had been maundering about the treatment he had received at the -tavern, about the desertion of him by the actresses, and about his -friend's treachery, mixed up with boastings of his father's standing, -his speech being very thick and his gait unsteady. So that the same -hope was in Oliver's mind as in mine, namely that another attack upon -the bottle might do his business for him. Yet, when he had taken it, -he was not quite finished--though nearly so, since he would once or -twice have fallen had we not held him up between us as we went -along,--and we were fain at last to suggest a third pull at the flask. -And shortly after he had taken that he could go no farther but, after -hiccoughing out some unintelligible words, sank helpless on the -stones. - -"Caught in their own toils!" exclaimed Oliver, as he bent over him, -"caught in their own toils! Gerald, already the spell begins to work -that shall undo your uncle. Yet, if this were not the son of a -villain, and a villain himself in the future if he be not one now, as -by his rejoicing over the plot in the tavern he seems to be, I would -never have taken part in such a snare as this. But," he continued, -"they would have sent you, poor lad, to where he is going, and he -would have gloated over it. Let us, therefore, harden our hearts and -continue what we have begun." - -He stooped over Roderick as he spoke and gazed at him as he lay there -insensible, and said, "We must remove from him his lace and ruffles; -they are too fine. His hat with its lacings is easily disposed of," -saying which he tossed it on a heap of refuse such as was then to be -found in every street in Dublin. "His clothes," he continued, "are, -however, none too sumptuous, and they are soiled with mud where he has -fallen. His sword he must not have however," with which words he -unloosed it as well as the sash and placed the former against a -doorway and the latter in his pocket. "Now," he said, "let us carry -him to the stairs," and he forthwith hoisted him on his back as easily -as he had hundreds of times hoisted a sheep in a similar manner. - -We passed scarcely any persons on our road, and, when we did, they -seemed to think little enough of such a sight as a man who looked like -a porter carrying another who was overcome by drink on his back, while -a third, probably, as they supposed, the drunken man's friend, walked -by their side. Such sights were common enough in the days when I was -young and George II. had just ascended the throne, and not only in -Dublin but in England and all over his dominions. Nay, in those days -things were even worse than this; men went to taverns to pass their -evenings, leaving word with others, to whom they paid a regular wage, -to come and fetch them at a certain hour, by which time they would be -drunk. Noblemen's servants came for them on the same errand to their -wine clubs and the ordinaries, and even many divines thought it no sin -to be seen reeling home tipsy through the streets at night, or being -led off by their children who had sought them out at their houses of -use. - -So, I say, we passed unheeded by those few we encountered, and in this -manner we came to Essex Stairs, where Oliver deposited his burden upon -the shingle under a dry arch and went to fetch the boat. - -"I know not," he said, "whether 'tis best to put him in the boat at -once and so to row about the river, or whether to let him lie here -until O'Rourke's friend comes to see that the scheme is accomplished. -He is to wear a red cockade by which we shall know him." - -"I imagine 'twould be best to take to the boat," I said. "Any one may -come down to the river shore at any moment, but the river is as still -as death. And we could lie under yon vessel that is listed over by the -tide, and so see those on shore without being seen." - -"Thou art right, Gerald; thou art right. No thing could be better. -Wilt lend a hand to carry him in? And then we will shove off." - -We bent over the prostrate form enveloped now in Oliver's frieze coat, -when, as we did so, we heard behind us a voice--a voice that terrified -me so that I felt as though paralysed, or as if the marrow were -freezing in my bones--a voice that said, "Softly, softly! What! -Would'st put off without the other guineas and the acquittance?" And, -starting to our feet, we saw behind us O'Rourke regarding us with a -dreadful smile. - -"So, Mr. Quin," he went on, "thou would'st have tricked me, eh! and -hast found some other youth to send to the plantations in place of -this young sprig here--who, in spite of his gay apparel and his smart -wig, I recognise as the brat who was not long ago in my custody, and -shall be again. A pretty trick in faith! a pretty trick to try on me -who, in my time, have served the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender, -and hoodwinked the whole joyous three. Why, Quin," he went on -banteringly, "you are not so clever as I took you for." - -"I may outwit you yet, O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "in spite of your -cleverness. But," he continued, in a peculiar voice that I could not -understand, and, indeed, I felt now so miserable and wretched at the -failure of our undertaking that I paid but little heed to what they -said, "I suppose you, too, were tricking me. If we had got down the -river we should have found no _Dove_ there to take our cargo on -board." - -"Nay, nay, Quin," continued the other, "for what then think you I have -paid you the guineas, which now you must return or I will blow your -brains out? The _Dove_ is there fast enough, though she is anchor -a-peak now and ready to sail. And in my pocket, too, are the remaining -pieces--for I am an honest man, Quin, and keep my word--and with a -line from my lord absolving thee, which now thou must forego." Here he -burst into another laugh such as he had once or twice given before, -and went on, "Yet I cannot but smile at your simplicity. What! pay -thee twenty-five guineas for nothing, and entrust an honest gentleman -with a red cockade in his hat--ha, ha!--to look after my affairs when -I can look after them myself. 'Tis not thus that I have prospered and -made my way. Now, Quin, give back my guineas to me." - -"Nay," said Oliver, "that will never be. We have the guineas and we -mean to keep them." - -"I am armed," said O'Rourke, "and I will have them; yet, ere I take -them from you or shoot you like a dog, let's see what creature, what -scaramouch or scarecrow thou hast picked out of the gutter to send to -Virginia in place of this boy, Gerald," and, stooping down, he bent on -his knee and flung Oliver's cloak off my cousin's form till it lay -there as it had fallen, and with a ray from the oil lamp of the -archway glistening on his face. - -"What!" he exclaimed, "what! nay, 'tis impossible--yet, yet, oh! oh! -Quin, thou damnable, thou double-dyed scoundrel; why--why--thou -wretch, thou execrable wretch, had this happened, had this wicked plot -been put in practice, my lord would have slain me. Oh! thou villain. I -should have been ruined for ever." - -"As so you shall be yet," said Oliver springing at him as he spoke, -"as you shall be if I myself do not slay you first." - -In a moment he had seized the ruffian by the throat with his great -strong hands while he called to me to secure his pistols, which I did -without loss of time; and he so pressed upon his windpipe that -O'Rourke's face became almost black. Yet he struggled, too, being, as -I think, no coward, and dealt out buffets and blows right and left, -some falling on Oliver's face and some on his body. But gradually -these blows relaxed in strength and fell harmless on his more brawny -antagonist, who never loosed the hold upon his throat, so that 'twas -easy to perceive, even in the dark of the archway with its one faint -illumination, he must in a few moments be choked to death. - -"Do not kill him, Oliver," I whispered, "do not kill him. Spare him -now; he is harmless." - -Whether it was my words or his own merciful nature I know not, but, at -any rate, Oliver did at last relax his hold on the other, who, when he -had done so, fell to the earth and, after writhing there for a moment, -lay perfectly still. - -"We must be speedy," said Oliver, "and lose no time. Look! towards the -east the light is coming. Quick. Do you rifle his pockets for the -money and the paper--above all, the paper; do not overlook that! while -I lift the other into the boat. And gag him with this sash," taking -Roderick's sword sash out of his pocket and tossing it to me; "gag him -tightly, but leave him room to breathe. I have not killed him, though -I came near doing so." - -As he spoke, he snatched up my cousin as easily as though he had been -a valise, and went down with him to the boat, throwing him lightly -into the stern sheets, and then pushed the boat off by the bow so that -she should be ready to float the moment we were in. - -As for me, I went through O'Rourke's pockets hurriedly, finding in -them the bag with the remainder of the guineas (in which we discovered -afterwards three more jacks, so that we were led to think that he -followed, amongst other pursuits, that of passing bad coin whenever it -was possible) and also the paper--a scrawl in my uncle's hand writing -saying that "he thanked Mr. Quin for what he had done in ridding -Ireland of an atrocious young villain and impostor falsely calling -himself a member of a noble family, to wit, his own"--and pledging -himself to hold Mr. Quin harmless of any proceedings on that account. - -Then, tying Roderick's sash in O'Rourke's mouth, I ran down to the -boat, and, jumping into it, rolled up my cloak and coat and took the -bow oar. - -Half-an-hour later the dawn was come; already there was stealing over -the river that faint light which, even on a winter morning, tells that -the day is at hand, and our oars were keeping time well together as we -drew near to the ship that was to carry my wretched cousin far away to -the Virginia plantations--the plantations to which he and his father -fondly hoped they would have consigned me. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AND CAGED - - -As we thus drew near to what Oliver said was the _Dove_--he having -been down to reconnoitre her the day before from the shore--our burden -gave some signs of coming to, or rather of awakening from his drunken -slumbers. First he rolled his head about under the cloak, then he got -it free from the folds, and, when he had done this, he opened his -bloodshot eyes and stared at us with a look of tipsy amazement. Yet, -so strong was the unhappy youth's ruling passion, that he exclaimed: - -"If you have a taste of that spirit left in the flask, I pray you give -it me." - -"Feel in the pocket over by your left shoulder," replied Quin, "and -you may yet find a drop or so--'twill warm you." Then, turning to me -as the wretched Roderick did as he was bidden, Quin said over his -shoulder, in a whisper, "'Tis a charity to give it him. It is the last -he will taste for many a day. The skippers do not give their prisoners -aught else but water on these cruises, and as for the planters--if all -accounts be true!---they treat their white slaves no better." After -saying which he bent to his oar again. - -For a moment the draught seemed to arouse Roderick and even to put -sense into his muddled pate, since, as he gazed on the shore on either -side, he muttered, "This is not the way home. Not the way I know of"; -but, even as he did so, the fumes of the overnight's liquor, stirred -up perhaps by the new accession of drink, got the better of him again -and once more he closed his eyes. - -"'Tis thy way home at any rate," I heard Oliver mutter; "the way to -the only home you will know of for some years. And may it be as happy -a one to thee as thou destined it for thy cousin." Then turning -swiftly to me, he said, "Pull two strokes, Gerald; we are alongside -the _Dove_." - -As we slewed round to run alongside the gangway, there stood at the -top of it as villainous a looking old man as ever it was my lot to -see. An old man clad in a dirty plush suit with, on his head, a hat -covered with tarnished, or rather blackened, silver lace; one who -squinted hideously down at us. - -"Whence come you, friends?" he asked. "From the noble Captain -O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "and we bring you his parting gift. The -youth is not well, having partaken freely over night, doubting, -perhaps, of your hospitality. Now, sir, if you will produce the price -named to the Captain and send down a man or so to haul him on board, -he is very much at your service." - -"Ay, ay," said the captain, "let's see him though, first. I don't want -to buy a dead man--as I did up at Glasgow not long ago--or one who has -lost his limbs. Here, Jabez, and you, Peter, jump down and haul him -up," while, as he spoke, he produced a filthy skin bag from his pocket -and began counting out some guineas into his palm. - -Those called Jabez and Peter--one of whom was a negro--did as they -were bidden, and, shoving our boat a little forward so as to bring the -stern, where Roderick lay, up to the platform of the gangway, they -quickly threw off the cloak, and, seizing his limbs, began to lift -them up and let them fall, to see that they were not broken nor he -dead. But such treatment even this poor bemused and sodden creature -could not bear without protest, so, as the men seized him and swiftly -bore him up the gangway until he stood upon the deck of the _Dove_--a -filthy, dirty-looking craft, with, however, a great, high poop much -ornamented with brass and gilding--he began to strike out right and -left, and to scream and ejaculate. - -"Hands off, you ruffians, hands off you wretches, I say! What! do you -know who I am; do you know that I am the son of the Viscount St. -Amande and his heir? Let me go, you dogs!" and putting his hand to -where his sword should have been and not finding it there, he struck -at the negro, who, instantly striking back at him, fetched him such a -blow on the cheek as sent him reeling against the rough-tree rail, -where he glowered and muttered at all around. - -"Hark ye, young sir," said the villainous looking skipper, "we have -been informed before this by the gallant Captain O'Rourke that it -pleases you to style yourself a son of Lord St. Amande." Here Quin -nodded up to the speaker, saying, "'Tis so, I have even at this moment -a paper in my pocket saying that he does so claim that position." "But -let me tell you," the captain went on, "'twill avail you nothing on -board this craft. I am, like the honest man in the boat below, in -possession of a paper from his lordship saying you will try this tack -with me, and, as I tell you, 'twill profit you nothing. You may call -yourself what you will but you must accustom yourself to this ship for -some weeks, at least, and take your part with these your companions -till you reach your destination. While, if you do not do so, I will -have you brained with a marling-spike or flung into the sea, or, since -I cannot afford to lose you, have you put in irons in the hold," after -which he turned away from Roderick, handed the twenty guineas to -Oliver, and bellowed out his orders for getting the ship under weigh -at once. - -But now, as I glanced at those whom the man spoke of as his -companions, my heart went out to my cousin, and, cruelly as he had -ever used me, and even remembering that he had chuckled over the doom -which now was his having been planned for me, I could not but pity -him. Nay, I think, had it been possible, that I would have saved him, -would have had him set on shore free again, and would have trusted to -Heaven to soften his heart and make him grow into a better man. His -companions! The creatures with whom he was to live and herd until he -reached Virginia, and even afterwards, maybe. Oh! 'twas dreadful to -reflect upon. They stood upon the deck of that horrid-looking craft, -surrounding him, jeering at him, mocking at him, but not one with a -look of pity in his or her face--as, indeed, 'twas not likely they -should have since his fate was theirs. Amongst them there were -convicted felons with chains to their legs and arms, who were being -sent out so as to ease the jails which were always full to -overflowing; there were women who were coin clippers and coiners, and -some who--for I learnt their histories afterwards--had been -traffickers in their own sex, or ensnarers of drunken men, or even -murderesses--though some of them were fair enough in looks and some, -also, quite young. And there were youths, nay, lads, younger than I -was, who had been sold to the captain (to be again re-sold by him at -the end of his voyage) by their own unnatural parents, so that, as -they became lost, the parents' shame might become forgotten. There, -too, lying about, were drunken lads and girls who had been picked up -in the streets and brought on board and kept drunk until the ship -should sail; there were some who looked like peasants who had been -enticed in from the country, since they wore scarce any clothes, -and--horror of horrors!--sitting weeping on a cask was a clergyman, -still with his cassock on and with a red blotchy face. He--I -afterwards learnt also--had forged to obtain money for drink, and this -was his doom. And those who were not drunk, or sleeping off the -effects of drink, came near that other drunkard, my cousin, and, -approaching as close as possible to him until the mate and sailors -kicked them, men and women, indiscriminately away, jeered at and -derided him and made him welcome, and asked him if he had any money, -or what he thought of the prospects of a sea voyage, and with what -feelings he looked forward to a sojourn in Virginia as a slave. - -"As a slave! In Virginia!" he screamed, taking in his situation at -last. "As a slave in Virginia! Oh, God! spare me, spare me! 'Tis a -mistake, I tell you. A mistake. Another one was meant, not I. 'Tis he -who should go. 'Tis he! Send for him and set me free!" - -And then they all laughed again, while the captain, seizing him -roughly by the collar, threw him amidst the others, telling him he -would do very well for him; and then they hauled up the gangway and -gradually the ship wore round. - -She had commenced her voyage. - -So he went forth a slave and, as he went, the pity that had welled up -into my heart for him became stifled and I felt it no more. For, -think! As he screamed in his desperation for mercy he asked for it -only for himself, he would at that moment, in spite of the horrors -which he saw, have cheerfully sent me in his place. Nay, in his place -or not, he had meant that I should go. Why, I asked myself, should I -pity him? - -The _Dove_ had quickly caught the north wind that was blowing now; she -had slipped away so easily from us when once her anchor was up and her -sails set, that, as she went heeling over down the river, we saw but -little of her but her stern and her poop lantern swinging aft. And so -we turned our boat's nose back to the city and prepared to return. - -Oliver was himself silent; I think because in his noble heart there -was the same conflict going on that there was in mine--the regret for -having been concerned in such a deed fighting with the pleasant -conviction that he had foiled a most wicked plot against me and thus -defeated two utter villains, my uncle and Considine, while, on a third -one, the punishment had fallen. And now that years have passed it -pleasures me to think that it was so with him, and that that brave -heart of his could, even at this moment of triumph, feel sorrow for -what he had thought it best to do. A brave heart, I have called it; a -noble heart--and so it was. A heart ever entendered to me from the -first when, God He knows, there was none else to show me kindness; a -heart that so long as it beat was ever loyal, good, and true. - -"Will you put back to the bridge?" I asked him, seeing that he still -kept the boat's course headed up river. "Surely it would be best to -make straight for the packet and go on board at once. Suppose O'Rourke -has recovered by now and informed my uncle. What may he not do to us?" - -"Nothing," replied Oliver, as he still set a fast stroke, "nothing. To -begin with--which is the most important thing--he cannot catch the -_Dove_, no, not even if he could persuade the captain of one of His -Majesty's sloops now lying in the river to put out in chase of -her,--such vessels as she is can show their heels to anything they -have a few hours' start of. And as for what he can do to us--why, what -can he attempt? We have been employed on his service, I hold in my -pocket a letter from him justifying me in kidnapping the youth who -claims to be Lord St. Amande. Well! that is what thy cousin claims to -be in succession, and, even if he did not do so, how can thy uncle -make any stir, or announce himself, as he needs must do if he blows on -me; he, a participator in what I have done? While for O'Rourke--the -noble Captain O'Rourke, Hanoverian spy, Jacobite plotter, white or -black cockade wearer as the time serves and the wind shifts, crimp and -bully,--think you he will come within a hundred leagues of Mr. Robert -St. Amande after having failed so damnably? Nay! more likely are we to -meet him in the streets of London when we get there than in those of -Dublin! So bend thy back to it, Gerald, and pull hard for Essex -Bridge. The tide runs out apace." - -As we passed up through the shipping lying in the river and on to our -destination, Quin did utter one more remark to the effect that, if he -had in very fact slain O'Rourke, or injured him so badly that he could -not rise from the spot where he fell, it was possible we might still -find him there, but that he did not think such a thing was very likely -to come about. - -"The fellow has as many lives as a cat," he said,--"he was nigh hanged -at Carlisle for a Jacobite in the last rising, and almost shot at St. -Germain for a Hanoverian, yet he escaped these and countless other -dangers somehow--and he has also as many holes as a rat in this city -into which he can creep and lie hid, to say nought of his den farther -up the river, of which you know well, since you escaped from it. 'Tis -not like we shall find him when we land." - -To land it was now time since we had reached the bridge, though by -this the river had run so low that we were forced to get out and drag -the boat up through the slime and ooze of the bank to get her high and -dry. And as we were doing so, I, who was lifting her with my face -turned towards the shore, saw a sight that had quite as terrible an -effect on me as the sight of O'Rourke standing over us a couple of -hours before had had. For, wrapped in long horsemen's cloaks and with -their hats pulled down well over their eyes, I observed upon the -river's brink my uncle and his friend and creature, Wolfe Considine, -both of whom were regarding us fixedly. But, when I whispered this -news to Oliver as I bent over the bows of the boat, he whispered back -to me, "No matter; fear nothing. Courage. Courage!" - -"Well, fellow," said my uncle to Quin, as we approached them, I -walking behind my companion and with my own hat drawn down as low as -possible so as to evade observation if I could do so. "Well, fellow, -so thou hast determined to change thy song and serve Lord St. Amande, -instead of vomiting forth abuse on him and doing thy best to thwart -him. Is't not so?" and he let his cloak fall so that his features were -visible, and his fierce, piercing eyes shone forth. - -"To serve Lord St. Amande is my wish," Quin replied gruffly, returning -his glance boldly. - -"And have done so this morning, as I understand, though where that -tosspot, O'Rourke, is, who should be here to settle matters, I know -not." - -"Ay," Quin replied in the same tone as before, "I have done good -service to his lordship this morning." - -"And the fellow is away to sea? The _Dove_ has sailed?" - -"Ay, away to sea on the road to Virginia! The _Dove_ has sailed." - -But while this discourse was taking place I was trembling in my wet -boots--remember, I was still but a youth to whom tremblings and fears -may be forgiven--for fixed on me were the eyes of Considine, and I -knew that, disguised as I was in handsome apparel, if he had not yet -recognised me he would do so ere long. - -"Yet," my uncle went on, "I should have thought you would have chosen -a somewhat different style of companion for a helpmate in the affair -than such a dandy youth as this. Wigs and laces and riding-boots, to -say nought of roquelaures and swords by the side, are scarcely the kit -of those who assist in carrying youths off for shipment to the King's -colonies!" and he bent those piercing eyes on me while I saw that -other pair, those of Considine, looking me through and through. - -"But," went on my uncle, "doubtless you know your own business best, -and I suppose the youth is some young cogger, or decoy, whom thou -can'st trust and who finds his account in the affair." - -"Nay," said Considine, springing at me, "'tis the whelp himself, and -we are undone; some other has gone to sea, if any, in his place. Look! -Look, my lord, you should know him well," and, tearing off my wig, he -left me standing exposed to my uncle's regard and that of a few -shore-side denizens who had been idly gazing upon us, and who now -testified great interest in what was taking place. - -"What!" exclaimed my uncle, rushing forward. "What! 'Tis Gerald, as I -live, and still safe on shore. Thou villain!" he said, turning to -Oliver, "what hast thou done?" - -"The duty I was paid for and the duty I love. My duty to Lord St. -Amande." - -"Scoundrel," the other said, lugging out his rapier, "this is too -much. I will slay you and the boy as you stand here. Considine, draw." - -"Ay," exclaimed Oliver, "Considine draw--though you could not have -bade him do an thing he fears more. But so will I. Let's see whether -steel or a blue plum shall get the best of this fray"; with which he -produced his two great pistols and pointed one at each of his -opponents, while the knot of people who had now gathered together on -the bank cheered him to the echo. And especially they did so when they -learnt the circumstances of the dispute, and that, in me, they beheld -the real Lord St. Amande, the youth deprived of his rights, and, in -Robert St. Amande, the usurper whose misdeeds were now the talk of the -lower parts of Dublin, if no other. - -"Bah!" the latter exclaimed, thrusting his rapier back into the -scabbard with a clash, "put up thy pistols, fellow. This is no -place for such an encounter. Nor will I stain my sword with thy base -blood. But remember," he said, coming a pace or two closer, as he saw -Oliver return the pistols to his belt, "remember, you shall not -escape. You have my writing in your pocket to hold you free of this -morning's work, but"--and he looked terrible as he hissed forth the -words--"think not that I will fail to yet be avenged. Even though you -should go to the other end of the known world I will follow you or -have you followed, while as for you," turning to me, "I will never -know peace night nor day till I have blotted your life out of -existence. And if you have not gone forth to the plantations this -morning, 'tis but a short reprieve. If I do not have thy life, as I -will, as I will"--and here he opened and clenched both his hands as he -repeated himself, so that he looked as though trying to clutch at me -and tear me to pieces--"as I will, why then still shalt thou be -transported to the colonies, thou devil's brat!" - -"Ay to the colonies," struck in Quin, "to the colonies, whereunto now -the _Dove_ is taking the false usurper, or the future false usurper of -the title of St. Amande, while the real owner remains here safe and -sound for the present at least. To the colonies. Right!" - -"The _Dove_. The false usurper," exclaimed Considine and my uncle -together, while their faces became blanched with fear and rising -apprehension. "The _Dove_ taking the false usurper. Villain!" said my -uncle, "what mean you? Speak!" - -"I mean, _villain_," replied Oliver, "that on board the _Dove_, now -well out to sea, is one of the false claimants of the title of St. -Amande, one of those who were concerned in the plot to ship this, the -rightful lord, off to Virginia. I mean that, amongst the convicts and -the scum of Dublin who have been bought for slavery, there goes -Roderick St. Amande, your son, sold also into slavery like the rest." - -From my uncle's lips there came a cry terrible to hear, a cry which -mingled with the shouts of those who could catch Oliver's words; then -with another and a shorter cry, more resembling a gasp, he fell -fainting into the arms of Considine. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -MY MOTHER - - -That afternoon we took the first packet boat for Holyhead, where, -being favoured by fortune, we found a fast coach about to start for -London which, in spite of its rapidity and in consequence of the -badness of the roads and some falls of snow in the West, took -five days in reaching the Metropolis. Yet, long as the journey -was--though rendered easier by the quality of the inns at which we -halted and the excellence of the provisions, to which, in my youth, -there was nothing to compare in Ireland--yet, I say, long as the -journey was and tedious, I was happy to find myself once more in -London--in which I had not been since I was a child of six years of -age, when my father and mother were then living happily together in a -house in the new Hanover Square. Nay, I was more than happy at the -thought that I was about so soon to see my dear and honoured mother -again, so that, as the coach neared London, I almost sang with joy at -the thought of all my troubles being over, and of how we should surely -live together in peace and happiness now until my rights were made -good. - -Oliver had rid himself of his occupation by a simple method; he had -merely abstained from going to his work at the butcher's any more, and -had sent round to say he had found other and more suitable employment, -and, as a slight recompense to his master for any loss he might -suppose himself to sustain, had bidden him keep the few shillings of -wage due to him. So that he felt himself, as he said, now entirely -free to look after and protect me. - -"For look after you I always shall," he said, "So long as it is in my -power and until I see you accorded your own. Then, when that happens, -you may send me about my business as soon as you will, and I will -shift for myself." - -"It can never happen," I replied, "that the time will come when you -and I must part,"--alas! I spake as what I was, a child who knew not -and could not foresee the stirring events that were to be my portion -for many years to come, nor how the seas were to roll between me and -that honest creature for many of those years,--"nor can the time ever -come when I shall fail in my gratitude to you or to Mr. Kinchella. -You! my only friends." - -Then Oliver's face lighted up with pleasure as I spoke, and he grasped -my hand and said that if Providence would only allow it we would never -part. - -To Mr. Kinchella I had gone between the time of the affray with my -uncle--of whom the last I saw was his being half-led and half-carried -to a coach by Considine, after he had learnt who it was who had gone -to Virginia in my place--and the sailing of the packet, and I had -found him busy making his preparations for departing for his vacation, -the Michaelmas term being now nearly at its end. He was astonished at -my appearance, as he might well be, and muttered, as he looked -smilingly down at me, "_Quantum mutatus ab illo!_ Have you come in for -your fortune and proved your right to your title, my lord?" - -But when I had sat me down and told him the whole of my story and of -the strange things that had happened during the last two days, he -seemed as though thunderstruck and mused deeply ere he spoke. - -"'Tis a strong blow, a brave blow," he exclaimed at last, "and boldly -planned. Moreover, I see not how your uncle can proceed against you or -Quin for your parts in it. If he goes against Quin, there is the paper -showing that he was willing that you should be sold into slavery. -Therefore he dare not move in that quarter. Then, as for you, if he -proceeds against you he acknowledges your existence and so stultifies -his own claim. And, again, he cannot move because witnesses could be -brought against him to show that the scheme was his, though the -carrying out of it was different from his hopes--those player wenches -could also testify, though I know not whether a court of law would -admit, or receive, the evidence of such as they." - -"There are others besides," I said. "Mr. Garrett, with whom Roderick -quarrelled, and who seemed to be of a good position; he, too, heard -it. Also, there were several by the river this morning who witnessed -the fit into which my uncle fell when he found how his wicked plot had -recoiled on his own head----" - -"Ay, hoist with his own petard! Well, I am honestly glad of it. And, -moreover, 'tis something different from the musty old story told by -the romancers and the playwrights. With these gentry 'tis ever the -rightful heir who goes to the wall and is the sufferer, but here in -this, a real matter, 'tis the heir who--up to now at least--is -triumphant and the villains who are outwitted. Gerald, when you -get to London, you should make your way to the coffee-houses--there is -the 'Rose'; also 'Button's' still exists, I think, besides many -others--and offer thy story to the gentlemen who write. It might make -the fortune of a play, if not of the author." - -"'Tis as yet not ripe," I replied, though I could not but laugh at -good Mr. Kinchella's homely jokes; "the first act is hardly over. Let -us wait and see what the result may be." - -"Prosperity to you, at least," he said, gravely now, "and success in -all that you desire. For that I will ever pray, as well as for a happy -issue for you and your mother out of all your afflictions," and here -he bent his head as he recited those solemn and beautiful words. "And -now, farewell, Gerald, farewell, Lord St. Amande. Any letter sent to -me here at the College must ever find me, and it will pleasure me to -have news of you, and more especially so if that news is good. Fare ye -well." - -And so, after my thanks had been again and again tendered to him, we -parted, and I, making my way swiftly to the quay was soon on board the -packet. But I thought much of him for many a long day after, and when, -at last, Providence once more, in its strange and mysterious -visitations, brought me face to face with him again and I saw him well -and happy and prosperous, I did indeed rejoice. - -And now the coach was rolling rapidly over Hadley Heath, that dreaded -spot where so many travellers had met with robbery, and sometimes -death, from highwaymen (one of whom and the most notorious, one -Richard Turpin, was hanged at York a little more than a year after we -passed over it); and the passengers began to point out to each other -the bodies of three malefactors swinging in chains as a warning to -others. Yet, it being daytime as we crossed the heath, I took very -little heed of their stories and legends, but peered out of the window -and told Oliver that this place was not many miles from London, and -that we should soon be there now. As, indeed, he could see for -himself, for soon the villages came thicker and thicker together; -between Whetstone and Highgate we passed many beautiful seats, -doubtless the suburban retreats of noblemen and gentry, while, at -Highgate itself, so close were the dwellings together that, had we not -met a party of huntsmen with their horns and hounds, who, the guard -told us, were returning from hunting, we should have supposed we were -already in London instead of being still four miles from it. But those -four miles passed quickly and soon we arrived. - -So now we had come to the inn whence the north-western coaches -departed, and at which they arrived three times a week with a -regularity that seems incredible, since, even in the worst of wintry -weather, they were scarce ever more than a day behind in their time. -And here amongst all the bustle of our arrival, of the shouts of the -hackney coachmen to those whom they would have as fares, and of the -porters with their knots, Oliver and I engaged a coach, had our -necessaries put on it, and gave directions to be driven to my mother's -abode. - -The house in Denzil Street, to which we soon arrived, presented but a -sordid appearance such as made me feel a pang to think that my dear -mother should be forced to live in such a place when, had she but -possessed all that should have been hers, her lot would have been far -different. The street had once been, I have since heard, the abode of -fashion--indeed 'twas a connection of my mother's house, one William -Holles, a relative of that Denzil Holles who had been, as many even -now recall, one of the members impeached of high treason by King -Charles, who built it,--but certainly 'twas no longer so. Many of the -houses seemed to be occupied by persons of no better condition than -musicians and music-teachers; a laundry-woman had a shop at one end in -which might be seen the girls at work as we passed by; there were -notices of rooms to be let in several of the houses, and there was -much garbage in the streets. Heaven knows I had seen so much squalor -and wretchedness in Dublin, and especially in the places where I had -lain hid, that I, of all others, should have felt but little distaste -for even such a place as this, nor should I have done so in this case -had it not been that it seemed so ill-fitting a spot for my mother, -with her high birth and early surroundings, to be now harbouring in. - -Nor did the maid who opened the door to us present a more favourable -appearance than the street itself, she being a dirty, slatternly -creature who looked as if the pots and pans of the kitchen were her -constant companions. Neither was she of an overwhelming civility, -since, when she stood before us, her remark was: - -"What want you?" and, seeing our necessaries on the hackney coach, -added, "There are no spare rooms here." - -"We wish to see the Lady St. Amande," I said, assuming as much -sternness as a youth of my age could do. "Tell her----" - -"She is sick," the servant replied, "and can see none but her -physician." - -"Tell her," I went on, "that her son, Lord St. Amande, with his -companion, Mr. Quin, has arrived from Ireland. Tell her, if you -please, at once." - -Whether the creature had heard something of my untoward affairs I know -not, but, anyway, she glanced at me more favourably on receipt of this -intelligence, and, gruffly still, bade us wait in the passage while -she went to speak to her ladyship. But I could not do that, and so, -springing up the stairs after her, was into the room as soon as she, -and, almost ere she had announced my arrival, I was enfolded in my -mother's arms. - -She was at this time not more than thirty-five years of age, having -been married at eighteen to my father, yet, already, pain and sickness -had laid its hand heavily upon her, and, along with trouble, had -saddened, though they could not mar, her sweet face. The brow that, as -a still younger woman I remembered so soft and smooth, and over which -I had loved to pass my hands, was now lined and had a wrinkle or so -across it; the deep chestnut hair had threads of silver in it, the -soft blue eyes looked worn and weary and had lost their sparkle. For -sorrow and tribulation had been her lot since first my unhappy father -had crossed her path, and to that sorrow there had come ill health in -the form of a palsy, that, as she had written Mr. Kinchella, sometimes -left her free but mostly kept her fast confined to the house. - -And now, the servant having quitted us, she drew me to her closer -still as I knelt beside her, and removing my wig which, she said -through her tears and smiles, made me look too old, she fondled and -caressed me and whispered her happiness. - -"Oh, my child, my sweet," she said, "how it joys me to hold thee to my -heart again after I had thought thee dead and gone from me. My dear, -my dear, my loved one, 'tis as June to my heart after a long and cruel -winter to have thee by me once again; my child, my child of many tears -and longings. And how handsome thou art," pushing back my hair with -her thin white hand, "even after all thy sufferings, how beautiful, -how like--Ah! how like _him_," and here she shuddered as she recalled -my father, though she drew me nearer to her as she did so and took my -head upon her breast. Then she wept a little, silently, so that I -could feel her tears falling upon my face and wetting my collar, and -whispered half to herself and half to me, "So like him, who was as -handsome as an angel when first I saw him, yet so vile--so vile." And -then, bending her head even nearer to me so that her lips touched my -ear, she murmured, "Is't true? was it as that gentleman, your friend, -wrote me? Did he die alone and unbefriended? Were there none by him to -succour him? None to pity him? Oh! Gerald, Gerald, my husband that -once was," she moaned, "oh! Gerald, Gerald, how different it might all -have been if thou would'st have had it so." - -We stayed locked in each other's arms I know not how long, while she -wept and smiled over me and wept again over my dead father. After -which, calming herself somewhat, she bade me go and fetch Oliver of -whom I had whispered something to her in the time, since she would see -and thank him for all that he had done. - -So Oliver came up from the passage where he had been sitting patiently -enough while whistling softly to himself, and stood before her as she -spoke gratefully as well as graciously to him. - -"Sir," she said after she had given him her hand, which Oliver bent -over and kissed as a gentleman might have done, and with a grace -which, I think, he must have acquired when he followed the great Duke -twenty years before and was himself a gallant young soldier of -eighteen years of age. "Sir, how shall a poor widow thank you for all -that you have done for her son and your friend?"--here Oliver smiled -pleasedly at my being termed his friend, but disclaimed having done -aught of much weight for me. "Nay, nay," she went on, "do not say -that. Why! you have brought him forth from the jaws of death, you have -saved him from those scheming villains to place him in his mother's -arms again, you have risked your own safety to do so--shall I not -thank you deeply, tenderly, for all that?" - -"Madam," Oliver said, "my lady, I could not see the poor youth so set -and put upon and stand idly by without so much as lending him a hand. -And, my lady, if there was any reason necessary for helping him beyond -that of mercy towards one so sorely afflicted as he was, I had it in -the fact that I had known him long before at New Ross." - -"At New Ross!" my mother exclaimed. "At New Ross! Is that your part of -the country?" - -"It is, my lady, and there, after quitting the army, I lived for many -years working at my trade. And it was there that I have often seen -Gerald--as I have come to call him, madam, since we have been drawn so -close together, tho' I am not forgetful of his rank nor of the respect -due to it--with you and with his late lordship, more especially when -you all drove into New Ross in the light chaise my lord brought from -London, or when Gerald would ride into the town on his pony with his -groom." - -These recollections, more especially that of the light chaise which -had been a new toy, or gift, from my father to his wife at the time -they were living happily together and he still had some means, -disturbed my dear mother so much that the tears sprang to her eyes. -And Oliver, who was tender as a child in spite of his determination -and great fierceness when about any business which demanded such -qualities, desisted at once and, turning his remarks into such a -channel as he doubtless thought more acceptable, went on to say: - -"And, my lady, none who ever saw his present lordship then--and there -are scores still alive who have done so--but would testify to him. So -it cannot be but that his uncle must ere long desist from the wicked -and iniquitous claims he has put forward and be utterly routed and -defeated, when my lord here shall enjoy his own." - -"I pray so. I pray so," said my mother. "And, moreover, his kinsman -the Marquis now seems, since my husband's death, to veer more to our -side than to Robert's. So we may hope." - -But now the slatternly servant came in bearing upon a tray some -refreshments that my mother had bade her fetch, there being some good -salted beef, a stew and some vegetables, a bottle of Madeira and two -fair-sized pots of London ale. And being by now well hunger-stung, for -we had eaten nought since the early morning, we fell to and made a -good meal while my mother, sitting by my side and ministering to both -our wants, listened to all we had to tell her. Wherefore, you may be -sure, when she heard of the wicked plot which my uncle had conceived -for shipping me off as a redemptioner, or an indented servant, to -Virginia, and of how it had failed and the biter had himself been bit -through the astuteness of Oliver as well as his manfulness in carrying -out the plans he conceived, she again poured out her gratitude to him -and told him that never could she forget all that he had done for her -and her child. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A NOBLE KINSMAN - - -As the evening drew on Oliver retired, accompanied by the -maid-servant, to seek a room in one of the neighbouring houses which -advertised that they had these commodities at the service of those who -required them; and on the latter returning to say that Mr. Quin had -found a room hard by which he considered suitable, my mother and I sat -over the fire discussing the past, the present, and the future. - -"Something," she said, "must be done for Mr. Quin, and that at once. -For his kindness we may well be indebted to him, nay, must, since he -seems of so noble a nature that he would be wounded at any repayment -being offered. But for the money which he has spent--that must -instantly be returned." - -"I doubt his taking it," I said. "He regards it as mine since he has -come by it entirely through saving me from my uncle's evil designs. -And, indeed, if you do but consider, dear mother, so it is." - -"Nay," she said. "Nay. He would have earned the money easily enough -had he been false to you and put you in that dreadful ship the -_Dove_--gracious Heavens, that such a vile craft should have so fair a -name!--surely we must not let him lose any of that money by being true -and staunch to you." - -"Give it back to him, then," I exclaimed with a laugh, "if you can -persuade him to take it. Of which, however, as I said before, I doubt -me much." - -"Alas!" she replied, "I cannot give it back to him, but interest must -be made with the Marquis to take up your cause and help you, as he -seems well disposed to do now. For myself, until the villain, Robert, -is defeated, I have but the hundred guineas a year left me by my -uncle--a bare pittance only sufficing to pay for these rooms, the -physician's account and my food." - -"Shall I not see the Marquis?" I asked; "surely I should go to him and -tell him all." - -"Thou shalt see him soon enough," she said. "I have acquainted him -with the fact of all I knew--no human creature could have guessed or -thought how much more there is to tell, nor how wicked can be the -heart of man, ay! even though that man be one's own flesh and -blood--and also that you might soon be expected to reach London. And -he has sent two or three times a week to know if you had yet arrived: -doubtless he will send again to-morrow. He lives but a stone's throw -from here, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, on the north side." - -At ten o'clock my mother told me she must go to her bed for she was -tired and never sat up later, and she rang for Molly, the maid, to ask -if the small room in which she kept her dresses and other apparel had -been prepared for me as she desired. Hearing that it was in readiness, -she told me that a good night's rest would do me good also, and -prepared to retire. And now for the first time, as she rose to depart, -I saw what inroads her disease had made upon her and that she who, -when I first remember her, stood up a straight, erect young woman, was -much bent and walked by the aid of a crutch-stick, and that one of her -hands shook and quivered always. - -"Yet strange it is," she said, observing my glance, "that there come -moments when I am free from all suffering and affliction, when I can -stand as straight as I stood at the altar on my wedding day, and when -this hand is as steady as your own. Nay, I can almost will it to be -so. See!" and she held it out before me and it did not quiver, while -next, seizing a huge brass candelabra that stood upon the table, she -lifted that and held it at arm's-length, and neither did that quiver -nor was any of the hot wax from the lighted candles spilt. - -"Ah! courage, mother," I said, "courage! You have but to will it and -you are strong. There is enough strength in that arm, which can lift a -candlestick as heavy as this, to do anything it needs. You could hold -a runaway horse with it, or keep off a dog flying at your throat, -or---or--" I went on with a laugh at my silly thoughts, "thrust a -sword through a man's body if you desired to do so." - -She was bending to kiss me for the last time that night while I spoke, -but as I uttered the final words of my boyish speech she stopped and -drew herself up so that she was now erect, and then, in a voice that -seemed altered somewhat, she said: - -"'Thrust a sword through a man's body if I desired to do so! Thrust a -sword through a man's body!' My sweet, such deeds ill befit a woman. -Yet there are two men in this world through whose bodies I would -willingly thrust a sword if they stood before me and I had one to my -hand. I mean thy uncle Robert, the false-faced, black-avised villain, -and that other and most despicable liar, his friend and creature, -Wolfe Considine." - -Yet, even as she spoke, her hand fell powerless by her side and -commenced to shake and quiver once more, when, putting her other upon -my arm, she bade me Good Night and blessed and kissed me and went to -her room. - -I lay awake some time in my own bed thinking on what she had said, for -well I knew what had prompted her to speak as she had done. I knew -that, outside the evil and the wrongs that my uncle had testified to -me, there was that other far greater wrong to her which no honest -woman could bear; the base insinuations that Considine had uttered -about his intimacy with her, insinuations partly made to gratify his -own vanity, and partly, as I judged, to enable Robert St. Amande to -cast doubt upon my birth. And I thought that, knowing as she did know, -of these horrid villainies, it was not strange she should feel and -speak so bitterly. These my musings, with some sounds of revellers -passing by outside singing and hooting ribald songs--though one -with a sweet voice sang the old song "Ianthe the Lovely," most -bewitchingly--kept me awake, as I say, some time, but at last I -slumbered in peace within my mother's shelter. Yet not without -disturbance through the night either, for once on turning in my bed I -heard her call to me to know if all was well, and once I heard her -murmur, "The villains, oh! the villains," and still once more I heard -her sob, "Oh! Gerald, Gerald, if thou would'st but have had it so!" by -which I knew that she was thinking of my misguided father and not of -me. - -In the morning as we sat at our breakfast of chocolate and -bread--with, for me, another plate of the corned beef which, my mother -told me, the landlady put up in great pickling tubs when the winter -was approaching and, with her family, lived upon for many months, -serving out to the lodgers who wished for them fair-sized platesful at -two pence each--there came a demure gentleman who asked of Molly if -the young lord had yet arrived, or if news had been heard of him. - -"It is the Marquis's gentleman," my mother whispered to me, "and, -observe, dear one, he speaks of you as 'the young lord.'" Then, -raising her voice a little, she bade Molly show him in as his lordship -had arrived. - -When he had entered the room and made a profound obeisance to her and -another to me, he said that, since I was now in London, he had orders -to carry me to the Marquis in a coach which he had outside, for he was -ready to receive me, being always in his library by eleven o'clock to -grant interviews to those who had business With him. - -"We will attend his lordship," my mother said. "I presume, Mr. Horton, -there can be no objection to my going too. And I feel well this -morning; a sight of my child's dear face has benefited me much; I am -quite capable of reaching the coach." - -Mr. Horton replied that he knew of no reason whatever why her ladyship -should not go too, and so, when my mother had put on a heavy cloak and -riding hood, for the morning was cold and frosty, we set forth. But, -previous to starting, I ran to the house where Oliver had got a room -and, finding him sitting in a parlour eating his breakfast, I told him -where we were bound. - -He rejoiced to hear the news I brought him and offered his escort, -saying he would go on the box of the coach; but I told him this was -unnecessary, and so I left, promising him that, when I returned, I -would come and fetch him and we would sally forth to see some of the -sights of the town. Yet, so faithful was he, that, although he -complied with my desire that he should not accompany us, I found out -in the course of the morning that he followed the coach to the -Marquis's house and there kept guard outside while we were within. - -My kinsman's library, to which we were shown by several bowing -footmen to whom Mr. Horton had consigned us, plainly testified that we -were in a room which was used for the purpose from which it took its -name--that it was indeed a library and was so considered. Around the -apartment on great shelves were books upon books of all subjects and -all dates, and of all classes of binding. Some there were bound in -velvet, some in silk as well as vellum, leather and paper: some were -so large that a woman could scarce have lifted them, and some so small -that they would easily have fitted into a waistcoat pocket. And then, -too, there were maps and charts hanging on the walls of counties and -countries, and one of London alone--a marvellous thing showing all -the streets and fields as well as principal buildings of this great -city!--while, when I saw another stretched on a folder and designated, -"A chart of all the known possessions of His Majesty's Colonies of -America," you may be sure my eye sought out, and my finger traced, the -spot where Virginia stood. - -"Tell him everything, my dear," said my mother, "as you have told it -to me, and fear nothing. He is just if stern, and, above all, hates -fraud and trickery. Moreover, he has forgiven me for being of those -who espoused, and still espouse, the fallen house of Stuart, and is -not unfriendly to me. Also, remember, he must now be our only hope and -trust on earth, so do thy best to impress him favourably with thee." - -I promised her that I would indeed do all she bade me and, then, while -I was turning over a most beautiful book called "Sylva, or a Discourse -concerning Forest Trees," by a gentleman named Evelyn, a footman -opened the door and the Marquis of Amesbury stood before us. - -"Louise," he said, going up to her and taking her hand, while, at the -same time, he kissed her slightly on the cheek, "I am glad to see that -you can come forth again. I trust you are more at ease." Then, turning -to me, he gazed down and said, "So, this is your child," and he placed -his hand upon my head. As he did so, and after I had made my bow, I -gazed at him and saw a tall gentleman of over sixty years of age, I -should suppose, very lean and very pale, clad in a complete suit of -black velvet and with but little lace at either breast or wrists. The -gravity of his face was extreme, though he looked not unkind; and, -truly, his manner had not been so up to now. - -"Well," he said, when he had motioned me to a seat and was himself -standing before us with his back to the huge fire that roared up the -chimney, "well, so you claim to be the present Viscount St. Amande and -my heir when it pleases God to take me. And you, Louise," turning to -her, "proclaim that he is so?" - -"Can a mother not know her own child, Charles, or have so hard a heart -as not to wish to see him enjoy his own?" - -"Humph! It hath been done. My Lady Macclesfield, though 'tis true she -earned the contempt of all, ever called her son, the wretched man, -Savage, an impostor; and endeavoured to work his ruin, in which desire -she came at last near to success, since this very month he has stood -at the Old Bailey on a charge of murder. Yet, Louise, thou art not as -she was." - -"Nay, God forbid! The wicked wanton! Yet I know not--there are those -who have vilified me for their own wicked ends and said the worst that -scoundrels can say of any woman. But, Charles, you are honest and have -ever held a character for justice amongst men, and, although you loved -not my uncle nor my kin, you would not think evil of me. You could -not, oh! you could not!" - -He looked down gravely at her, but still again with kindness in his -eyes, and then he said: "No, no. Never, Louise, never. You were always -too good and true, too fond of the unhappy man to have been aught but -faithful. And, although I opposed his marriage with you, it was never -because of your own self but because of your uncle's principles. Had -he had his way, which I thank God was not permitted, he would have -brought back the false-hearted, grieving Stuarts to the throne; he -would have cursed his country and its laws and religion. But for you, -Louise, for you, child, I never had aught of distrust, but only pity -deep and infinite that you should wed with such a poor thing as my own -dead kinsman and heir, this lad's father." - -"God bless you," said she, seizing his hand with her well one and -kissing it ere he could draw it away, "God bless you for your words as -I bless Him for having raised you up to be even as a father to the -fatherless--to my poor fatherless boy. And, Charles, if those whom you -loved so well, your own wife and child, had not been taken from you, I -would pray night and day for them as I pray for you." - -He turned away and passed his hand swiftly across his eyes as she -mentioned those whom he had once loved so dearly and who, as all the -world knows, were both torn from him in one short week! 'Twas by one -of those dreadful visitations of smallpox which carries off kings and -queens impartially with their humbler subjects, as was the case -fifteen or sixteen years before, when it swept away the Emperor of -Germany and the Dauphin and Dauphiness of France as well as their -child, and also ravaged both those great countries. - -Then, turning back to us, he said: - -"But now, ere anything else can be done, I must know all that has -occurred since your husband's death. Something I have heard from you, -Louise, and something from other sources yet there is much I cannot -comprehend. Nay, more, there are some things that seem incredible. It -is said he was buried by the subscription of a few friends--many of -them the lowest of the low, with whom he in life wassailed and -caroused--yet, how could it be?" - -"He was penniless, Charles," my mother sobbed; "penniless. He had -nothing." - -"Penniless! Penniless! Nay. Nay. His brother was here in London at the -time and I bade him let Gerald have all necessaries in reason, and I -dispatched to Mr. Considine a hundred guineas for his funeral by a -sure hand. I could not let the heir to my title----" - -"What!" rang out my mother's voice clear and distinct, while I stared -at the Marquis as though doubting whether he were bereft of his senses -or I of my hearing. "What, you sent money by and to them for him? Oh! -Charles, never did he receive one farthing of it." - -"So I have cause to fear. And I know not what is to be done with thy -brother-in-law. He seems to be a rogue of the worst degree." - -But now she fixed her eyes upon him and exclaimed: - -"You say so, knowing only the little that you do know, that he and his -base servant, Considine--Considine," she, repeated, "Considine, the -traducer of my fame whom yet, if God spares me, I will have a heavy -reckoning with; you know only that they have conspired to defraud my -child of his rights, nay, more, of his honest name. That they have -stolen the money you sent to succour my wretched husband in his last -days and to bury him as he should be buried according to his rank and -fashion when he was dead. That you know, Charles, Marquis of Amesbury, -kinsman of this my child, but you do not know all. Will you hear their -further villainies, will you know all that they have attempted on him; -will you do this, you who are powerful and great, and then will you -stretch forth your right hand and crush, as you can crush, these -wretches to the earth while, at the same time, you also stretch forth -that hand to shelter and protect this innocent child, your heir?" - -She had spoken as one inspired by her wrongs; her eyes had flashed and -her frame had quivered as might have quivered that of a pythoness as -she denounced some creature who had outraged her gods, but the effort -had been too much for her weak frame--she could sustain it no further, -and, sinking back into her chair, she was but able to gasp out in -conclusion, "For his sake, Charles, for the sake of an innocent child. -For his sake." - -Upon which the Marquis, after trying to calm her, said gently: - -"If there are other villainies to hear, I will hear them, yet it seems -impossible that more can remain behind. And, Louise," continued the -old man, touching her arm very gently, "dry your tears. I cannot bear -to see you shed them. Nor have you need. The boy shall be righted. I -promise you." - -"Tell him all, Gerald; tell him all," my mother sobbed. "Oh! it would -be enough to melt a heart of stone, let alone one so kind as his." - -So I told the Marquis everything that has here been set down. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -IMPRESSED - - -"Many as are the villainies which I have known of in my life," said -the Marquis, when the tale was told, "never have I known aught such as -this. It appears incredible. Incredible that such things can be, and -in these days. Heavens and earth!---in the days of King George the -Second, when law and order are firmly established." Then he fell -a-musing and lay back in the deep chair before the fire in which he -had sat during the whole of my recitation, and nodded his head once or -twice, and muttered to himself. After which he spake aloud and said, -"And the hundred guineas that I sent to bury Gerald; they were those, -I imagine, which the villain O'Rourke paid to your protector, Quin. -Humph! 'Tis well they have fallen into the hands of an honest man -again." - -It was at the collation which he offered to my mother and me, for it -was now nearly two o'clock, that he once more took up the subject and -spake out his heart to us, but before he did so he bade the footmen -who had waited at table begone and leave us alone. And, in truth, I -was glad enough to see these immense creatures leave the room and -cease their ministrations to our wants, for they had wearied me, and, -I think, my mother too. All our hopes were centred in what the Marquis -would do to espouse my cause, so you may well imagine that the roasts -appealed not to us nor did the sweetmeats and iced froth and fruit, -nor the wines which they pressed upon us. But when these menials were -gone, he, as I say, again went on with the subject that engrossed all -our thoughts. - -"The first thing to do is," he said, "to obtain the certificate of the -child's birth--of that of course there can be no difficulty; then -proof must be forthcoming that this lad is that child--that, I -imagine, can also be obtained?" - -"There are hundreds who can testify to it," my mother answered. "The -boy's nurse still lives; he had many tutors both in Ireland and in -London; Mr. Quin, his benefactor, remembers when his father and I used -to drive into New Ross with him; and Mr. Kinchella, a gentleman at -Dublin University, does the same. Charles, there can be no doubt of -many witnesses being able to testify." - -"That is well. Then the next most important thing is that I should -acknowledge him as my heir, which I will publicly do----" - -"Again I say--God bless you, Charles. God ever bless you!" - -"----and," he went on, "in this my house. Next week I have a gathering -here of many of the peers who affect our interests,"--he was speaking -of the Whig party. "Sir Robert sits firm now, and may do so for years -to come. Yet 'tis ever wise to guard against aught the Tories may -attempt. And I expect him to come as well as the Duke of Devonshire, -and Lord Trevor--to them all you shall be presented. And 'tis well -that Mr. Robert St. Amande affects not our side, he will be easier to -deal with." - -"What will you do to frustrate him?" my mother asked. - -"Do?" the Marquis replied. "Why, first I will proclaim him to all as -an utter villain who has falsely assumed a title to which he has no -claim. Next, the new Irish Lord Chancellor, Wyndham,--who is indebted -somewhat to me for his appointment--must be told to reverse his -favours to the scoundrel, and this boy's name must be entered in his -place. But next week when he has met my friends we can do more." - -"And for that other unhappy one--that wretched Roderick?" said my -mother, whose woman's heart could not but feel pity for the miseries -to which he was now subjected, to which he must be subjected, "can -naught be done for him? Could he not be rescued from the dreadful fate -into which he has been plunged?" - -"Doubtless," the Marquis replied. "Doubtless. Those who are sold to -the planters, as distinguished from those who are convicts, can easily -be bought back. Only it must be those of his own kind who do it. His -worthy father seems to have some choice spirits in his pay; he may -easily send out Mr. Considine or Mr. O'Rourke with a bagful of guineas -to purchase him back again. For our side,"--and my mother and I told -each other that night how good it was to hear our powerful relative -identify himself with us as he did--"for our side we cannot do -anything. Moreover, we are supposed to know nothing." - -"Yet, my lord," I replied, "we _do_ know, and they know we do. Ere my -uncle fainted in Considine's arms he had heard and knew all." - -"Yes," the Marquis replied, "yes. But he also knew that your friend, -Quin, held his indemnity for what was done. So, rely upon it, he will, -nay, he must, hold his peace. Kidnapping, or authorising kidnapping, -is punished, and righteously punished, for 'tis a fearful crime, so -heavily by our laws that your uncle stands in imminent deadly peril -for what he has done. And, remember, he is not a peer, therefore he -has no benefit to claim. Rest assured that though he has lost his son -he will never proclaim what has happened nor divulge a word on the -subject. Though, that he may send agents to Virginia to endeavour to -obtain his recall is most probable, since, wretch as he is, there must -be some heart in his bosom for his own child." - -So thus, as you may now observe, that great man, my relative, was won -over to my cause, and already it seemed as though the champion whom -dear Oliver had prayed that the Lord might raise up for me had been -discovered. And vastly happy were all of us, my mother, myself, and -that faithful friend, at thinking such was the case. So happy indeed -were we that we made a little feast to celebrate the Marquis's -goodness, and, as he had given my mother a purse with a hundred -guineas in it to be spent on anything I should need, we had ample -means for doing so. We decorated her humble parlour with gay flowers -from the market hard by, we provided a choice meal or so to which we -three sat down merrily, all of us drinking the Marquis's health in -champaign; we even persuaded my mother to be carried to the theatre in -Lincoln's Inn Fields, close to Denzil Street, where from a box we -witnessed Mr. Congreve's affecting play, "The Mourning Bride," at -which my mother wept much. - -Unfortunately, as I have now to tell, these joys were to be of but -short duration; the time had not yet arrived for our happiness to be -complete and on a sure foundation; both of us were still to be -trouble-haunted and I to be tossed about by Fate, and, as it seemed, -never to know peace. - -Oliver had a friend and countryman who lived on Tower Hill in a -considerable way of business in the cattle trading line, and he, being -desirous of seeing this friend so that he might thereby, perhaps, be -put into some way of earning a livelihood in the trade he understood, -made up his mind to go and visit him. That I should go too was a -natural conclusion, and, indeed, had we not gone about together I -should have got no necessary exercise at all, since my mother was so -confined to the house, while, on his part, he knew little of the -town--nay, nothing--so that I was really a guide to him. Thus together -we trudged about, looking for all the world like some young gentleman -and his governor, since I was generally dressed in my fine clothes -bought in Dublin, while Quin wore a sober suit of black which he, too, -had purchased. Many a sight did we see in company in this manner, for -both of us were curious as children and revelled much in all the -doings of the wondrous great city--we went together to the Abbey, we -walked to Execution Dock and Kennington Common to witness men hanged, -or hanging, or, as the mob then called such things, "the step and -string dance"; to see where the noblemen play bowls at Mary-le-bone -Gardens in the summer and frequent the gaming tables in the winter; to -the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge; and countless other places too -numerous to write down. - -But amongst all these our walks and excursions it befell, as I have -said, that one fine frosty day Oliver and I decided to go into the -city to Tower Hill, there to see his friend, the dealer. We set out -therefore along Fleet Street, that wondrous place where the writers -for the news-sheets and letters dwell, and where we could not but -laugh at the other strange characters we encountered. First there flew -out a fellow, whom I have since learnt they call a "plyer," who bawled -at us to know if either of us wanted a wife, since they had blooming -virgins to dispose of or rich widows with jointures. Then a woman -screamed to us from the brandy-shop, "We keeps a parson here who'll do -your business for you," while, dreadful to narrate, as all this was -going on, there reeled by a drunken divine swearing that he would have -more drink at the "Bishop Blaize's Head," since he had married three -couples that day at five shillings a brace and had more to tie up on -the morrow. - -Resisting, however, all these importunities, though we could not -resist glancing at the advertisements of such things in the windows, -such as, "Without Imposition. Weddings performed cheap here"; or, "The -Old and True Register. Without Imposition. Weddings performed by a -clergyman educated at the University of Oxford, chaplain to a -nobleman," we went along and so, at last, we came to Tower Hill. - -"And now," said Oliver, "let's see for the abode. The number is -twenty-seven, this is fourteen--it cannot be afar. Wil't come in -Gerald and show thyself to my friend, who will surely gape for wonder -at seeing a real lord; or go into the tavern? Or, stay, yonder seems a -decent coffeehouse where, doubtless, you may read a journal or so; or -what?" - -I was about to say I would go with him and, because I was in a merry -mood, exclaimed that I would treat his friend to so gay a sight as a -real Irish lord when, alas! my boyish attention was attracted by a -raree-show fellow who came along, followed by a mob of children of all -ages, many grown-up men and women, and his servant or assistant. This -latter bore upon his back the long box in which his master kept his -stock-in-trade and apparatus, and, as they drew near, was cursing -vehemently the crowd who wished them to exhibit their tricks and -wonders. "What," he muttered, "show you the fleas that run at tilt -when there is not so much as a groat amongst you all, or the hedgehog -that can divine the stars, or the wonderful snake, for which we paid -twenty Dutch ducatoons at Antwerp--and without payment, the devil take -you all!" - -But here, while still the children screamed at him and his master and -the elders jeered, his eyes fell on me standing at the hither end of -the street after Oliver had gone in to the house he wanted, and, -advancing down it, he said: "Now here is a young gentleman of quality -or I ne'er saw one, whose purse is lined with many a fat piece I -warrant. Noble, sir," addressing me, and speaking most volubly, "will -you not pay to see our show? We can exhibit you the wonderful snake -and divining hedgehog, the five-legged sheep and six-clawed lobster, -the dolls who dance to the bagpipes' merry squeak and the ape who -scratched the Cardinal's nose in Rome. Or my master will knock you a -knife in at one cheek and out at t'other without pain or bleeding, -swallow dull cotton and blow out fire or make a meal of burning coals, -or by dexterity of hand fill your hat full of guineas from an empty -bottle. And then again, noble sir, we have pills that are good against -an earthquake, so that the worst cannot disturb you; or, again, an -elixir which shall prevent the lightning from harming you even tho' it -strike you fair, or still again----" - -But here I interrupted him, crying, "Nay! nay! I want not your pills -or elixir, but I have ten minutes to await a friend, so show me your -curious beasts and I will give you a shilling." - -"And let us see, too," the mob cried. "We must see, too." - -"Ay," said the master of the raree-show taking the word up while he -opened his box to earn my shilling, "Ay, you must see, too, though -devil a fadge have you got to pay. Yet, ere long, will I hire a booth -where none can see who pay not. I'll lead this dog's out-o'-door life -no longer." - -Yet neither was it foredoomed for me or any of the vagrant crew around -to see the mountebank's treasures. For as he produced his snake, a -poor huddled up little thing that looked as though it had neither life -nor venom in it, we heard a shouting and bawling at the top end of the -street and the screams of women; and presently saw advancing down it -about fifteen sailors fighting their way along, while still the women -howled at them and they endeavoured to secure all the men around them. - -"The Press! The Press!" called out the raree men and our crowd -together, while all fled helter-skelter, leaving me the only one -standing there all by myself, so that, in a moment, I was surrounded -by the press-gang, for such I soon knew it to be. "Your age, name and -calling," said a man to me who seemed to be the leader and was, as I -later learned, the lieutenant in command. He was a poor-looking fellow -very much unlike all ideas I had conceived of His Majesty's naval -officers, and, unlike the officers of the army, had no uniform to -wear. Therefore, since he was one of those poor creatures who are -officers in the navy without money or interest and with mighty little -pay, it was not strange that his clothes were shabby, his boots burst -out, and his hat a thing that would not have done credit to a -scarecrow, though it had a gold cockade, much tarnished, in it. - -"That is my affair," I retorted, "and none of yours. Pass on and leave -me." - -For a moment he seemed astonished at my reply as did his men, but then -he said: "Young man, insolence will avail you nothing. I am lieutenant -of His Majesty's ship _Namur_, on shore for the purpose of -impressment, and you must go with me unless either you have a -protection ticket, are under eighteen, or are a Thames waterman -belonging to an insurance company." - -"I am neither of these things and have no ticket," I replied; "yet I -warn you touch me not. I am the Viscount St. Amande and future Marquis -of Amesbury, and if you assault me it shall go hard with you." - -"Shall it?" he replied, though he seemed staggered for a moment. "We -will see. And for your viscounts and marquises, well! this is not the -part of the town for such goods. However, lord or no lord, you must -come with me, and, if you are one, doubtless you can explain all to -the Admiral. I must do my duty." Then, turning to his followers, he -cried, "Seize upon him." - -This they at once proceeded to do, or attempt to do, though I resisted -manfully. I whipped out my hanger and stood on the defence while I -shouted lustily for Oliver, hoping he might hear me; and I found some -able auxiliaries in the screaming rabble of women who had been -watching the scene. For no sooner did they see me attacked than they -swooped down upon the press-gang; they belaboured the members of it -with their fists and did much execution on them with their nails, -while all the while they shouted and bawled at them and berated them -for taking honest men and fathers of families away from their homes. -But 'twas all of no avail. The lieutenant knocked my sword out of my -hand with his cutlass, a sailor felled me with a blow of his fist, and -two or three of them drove off the women, so that, in five minutes, I -was secured. And never a sign of Oliver appeared while this was going -on, so that I pictured the dismay of that loyal friend when he should -come forth from the house he was visiting at, and learn the news of -what had befallen me from the viragoes who had taken my part. - -They carried, or rather dragged, me to a boat lying off the stairs -near the Tower and flung me into it, fastening me to a thwart by one -hand and by the other to a miserable-looking wretch who, with some -more, had been impressed as I had. And so the sailors bent to their -oars while the lieutenant took the rudder lines, and rowed swiftly -down the river on a quick ebbing tide. In this way it was not long ere -we reached the neighbourhood of Woolwich, and I saw before me a -stately man-o'-war with an Admiral's flag flying from her foretopmast -head. - -That ship was the _Namur_ under orders for the West Indies and North -America, and was to be my home for many a day. Yet I knew it not then, -nor, indeed, could I think aught of my future. My heart was sad and -sorry within me, and, when I thought at all, it was of a far different -home; the home in which my poor sick mother was sitting even now -awaiting my return. - - - - - -PART II - -THE NARRATIVE OF -JOICE BAMPFYLD OF VIRGINIA - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A COLONIAL PLANTATION - - -'Tis with no very willing heart that I sit down to write, as best I -may, the account of the vastly strange and remarkable occurrences that -took place in and about my home when I was but a girl of eighteen -years of age, it being then the year of our Lord 1728. Yet, since it -has to be done, let me address myself to the task as ably as I can, -and pray that strength and lucidity may be accorded to me, so that -those who, in days to come, shall read that which I set down, may be -easily led to understand what I now attempt. - -I, Joice Bampfyld, was, as I say, at the period at which I take up my -pen, nearing eighteen years of age, and I dwelt at Pomfret Manor, -situated, on the southern bank of the James River, in His Majesty's -state of Virginia, the estate being some fifty miles inland from the -mouth of Chesapeake Bay, and some ten miles south-west of the township -of Richmond. On this manor, which had passed into my hands two years -before at the decease of my dear and lamented father, who was of the -third generation of the Bampfylds settled there, we raised tobacco and -corn in large quantities and had good horned cattle and many sheep, -while for the fruits of the earth there was no lack, so that my life -from the first had ever been one of ease and comfort, and, even in -Virginia, we of Pomfret Manor were accounted well-to-do folk. Yet, -comfortable as was the existence here, there was still much in our -surroundings that disturbed that comfort, as it disturbed the comfort -of all our neighbours. Thus, our negro servants were now-a-days not -always to be depended on for their fidelity; sometimes they would -project insurrections and revolts which, when put into practice, -could only be subdued by bloodshed, while our indented or convict -servants--I mean the whites--were even still more troublesome, what -with their runnings away, their constant endeavours to seduce the -blacks from their allegiance, their drunkenness when they could get at -drink, and their general depravity. For depraved they were beyond all -thought, being most of them convicts from the jails in England who had -saved their necks by praying to be sent to Virginia to be sold as -plantation-hands, while the remainder were as often as not criminals -evading justice, who, in England, had cheerfully sold themselves into -four years' slavery (four years being the limit here, though much -longer in the sugar-producing islands of the West Indies) so as to -escape from the eye of justice and begin a new life in a new land. -And, also, amongst them there were defaulting debtors and bankrupts, -men who were flying from their wives and children, women who were -deserting their husbands, and, sometimes, wretches who, when drunk in -the seaport towns at home, had been carried on board and brought to -the colonies, where, although they at first resented their kidnapping, -they soon settled down to be as great villains as their fellows. Yet, -had it not been for these dreadful people, one knows not how the -plantations could have been kept prosperous, since certain it is that -no free-born Englishman in Virginia, or any other of the colonies, -would consent to toil in the fields, while the negroes were so lazy, -and, in many cases, so sullen, that little hard work could be got out -of them. Indoors the blacks would do their duties cheerfully enough; -they loved cooking and nursing; they took pride in polishing and -keeping in order the beautiful furniture which our fathers and -grandfathers had imported from England, and in looking to the silver -and the brasses. They did not even make objection to gardening, -keeping our walks and grass plots in excellent order and our rose -vines well trained against the walls, but that, with their delight of -fiddling at dances and singing of songs, was all that they would do -willingly. - -Yet these minor troubles were but little and sank into nothingness -beside the one great trouble, nay, the awful horror, that was always -near us. I mean the Indians. Earlier, in the first Colonial days, the -red men had dwelt in some semblance of friendship with our -forerunners; they would live in peace with them, sleep by their -firesides, eat from their platters, and teach them how to capture all -the game of the forests and the fish of the waters. Yet, even then, -all this harmony would be occasionally disturbed by a sudden outbreak -on their part resulting in a dreadful massacre which, in its turn, -resulted in a massacre on the part of the colonists in retaliation. -So, as time went on, these two races, the white and red, which had -once dwelt as friends together drew away from one another; the Indians -retired further into the Alleghany mountains or even crossed them into -the unknown land lying west of them, while the colonists made good -their holdings on the eastern side of those mountains and defied the -red men. But, still, the state of things was most dreadful--most -horrible. For though the Indians had withdrawn, and, of late years, -had made no great raid on the settlements in our part, one never knew -when they were not meditating an attack upon some quiet manor like my -own, or some peaceful village consisting of a few scattered houses, or -even upon some small town. Men went armed always--at church every -man's loaded firelock, or gun, reposed against the side of the pew in -which he worshipped--no woman thought of going a mile away from home -without an escort, and children who wandered into the woods would -often disappear and never be heard of again. So that one would meet -weeping mothers and sad-faced looking fathers who mourned their -children as dead, nay, who would rather have mourned them as dead than -have had to bow to the living fate that had o'ertaken them. For they -never came back, or, if they came, 'twas in such a shape that they had -better have died than have been taken. One, the child of John Trueby -of Whitefountain, did indeed come back fifteen years after he had been -stolen by the Shawnees, dressed and painted as an Indian of that -tribe, but only to slay his own father with a tomahawk at the -direction of those with whom he had become allied. Another, who had -been stolen by the Doeg Indians, returned only to his native hamlet to -set fire to it, beginning with the wooden frame-house in which his -mother and sisters had mourned him for years. Who, therefore, should -not tremble at the very name of Indian? Who that had a child should -not kneel down and pray to God to take that child's life rather than -let it fall into the hands of the savages, where its nature would -undergo so awful a change, and amongst whom it would develope into a -fiend? For those who once dwelt with the Indians in the mountains, and -adopted their customs and habits, became fiends, 'twas said, and -nothing else. - -This horror, as well as the dread of being surprised and having our -houses burnt over our heads, we had always with us, always, always; as -well also as the fear of being carried into captivity and tortured; -or, in the case of girls like myself, of being subjected to worse than -torture. When we lay down to sleep at night we knew not whether we -should be awakened ere morning by some one knocking at our door and -calling, "The Indians! The Indians!" If we looked forth on to our -garden to observe its beauties as it lay in the moonlight, we deemed -ourselves fortunate if we did not, some time or other, see the hideous -painted face of a savage and his snake-like eyes gleaming at us from -behind a tree or bush. Sometimes, also, floating down the river at -night, when there was no moon, would be discerned by those who had -sharp eyes the canoes of our dreaded foes bent on some awful errand, -and full of painted, crouching savages. And then, through the still -night air, would ring the ping of bullets discharged from the shore by -some of the men who were always on the watch for such visitations; a -canoe, or perhaps two, would be sunk, and a day or so afterwards there -would be washed ashore the naked bodies of some horrid dyed Indians -who had been drowned, or shot, as they were surprised. I do not say -'twas always so, but it was so very frequently, and scarce a summer -passed by that we did not have some visits from them, while we ever -lived in dread of a determined onslaught from a whole tribe in which -not only our farm, plantations, homesteads, or manors should be -surrounded by hundreds of our foe, but also entire villages or towns. - -Pomfret Manor--named after the village of Pomfret in Dorsetshire, from -which my great-grandfather, Simon Bampfyld, had removed to Virginia in -the days of King Charles the Second--was the principal house in the -lordship or hundred of Pomfret, as 'twas called in English fashion (of -which fashions we colonists were always very tenacious), and, as we -had thriven exceedingly since first we came, it also gave its name to -the village hard by. Now, my great-grandfather having brought -considerable money with him from home, had soon become one of the -leading colonists, as well as one of the richest, in the -neighbourhood. The house itself had once stood in Dorsetshire, and had -been taken to pieces there and removed bit by bit to Virginia, as is -the case with many other mansions to be found in the colonies. So the -dear place in which I was born had seen the birth of many other -Bampfylds before me when it existed in England, and was consequently -much beloved by us. Constructed of the old red English bricks, with, -for its front, a vast portico with columns of white stone, it made a -pleasant feature in the landscape, while, with careful training, we -had produced a smooth lawn which ran down almost to the banks of the -river, and, on either side of it, we had contrived a sweet pleasaunce, -or garden. Here there grew amidst the rich Virginian vegetation such -flowers--recalling my ancestor's earlier house across the seas--as -roses of all kinds, including the Syrian damask and the white alba; -here, too, sparkled the calendula, or marigold, and there the -wall-flower; while beds of pinks, or, as the flower was called in old -days, the Dianthus, added to the patches of colour. Over our big -porch, so cool to sit in on the hot days, there grew also the native -creepers mingling with the yellow jasmine--a world of gorgeous flowers -in the summer and of warm red leaves in the autumn--in which the -oriole, or golden thrush, would nestle and rear its young. In the rear -of the house was yet another lawn, or plantation, whereon we sat in -the summer under the catalpa trees when 'twas too hot to be in the -front; where the pigeons cooed from their cote and the cattle munched -the soft grass, while, from their kennels, the mastiffs, used for -fighting, or, better still, frightening the Indians who could not face -them, and for tracing runaway negroes, would be heard baying. Around -the grounds came next the belts of pines which were cultivated -largely, both for firing and for the making of much household -furniture; beyond them were the plantations of tobacco and of rice, -which latter had by so fortunate a chance been introduced to our -immediate colonies some thirty years ago. - -Such was the house in which I was born and reared, such the place in -which occurred the stirring incidents which now I have to record. -These incidents brought me and mine near unto death; they dealt out -suffering and pain to many and punishment and retribution to one -villain at least. But, also, they brought to my heart so tender and so -sweet a joy, and to him whom I afterwards came to love so deep and -cherished a happiness--as he has since many times told me--that on my -knees nightly I thank my God that He saw fit in His great goodness to -let those incidents take place. - -And now I will address myself to all I have to tell. - -When my dear father was within two years of his death, though neither -he nor any other dreamed of it, so hale and strong did he seem, he and -my cousin, Gregory Haller of Whitefountain, set out for Norfolk town -one May morning intending to ride there that day, put up for the -night, and, on the following day, purchase many things that were -wanted for our respective homes; and so back again. Such journeyings -were necessary periodically, and took place usually some six or -eight times a year, I sometimes riding with them also, if I wanted -a new gown or some ribbons imported from England, or a pair of -silver-fringed gloves, or, may be, any pretty nick-nack that I should -happen to set eyes upon which might grace our saloon or living-room. -At other periods, as now, I would be left at home with my companion -and tutoress, Miss Mills, a young English lady who had dwelt with us -for some two years. She had come to the colonies from Bristol, of -which she was a native, in search of employment as a teacher, and with -high recommendations, one being from the Bishop of Bath and Wells, a -most goodly man as all accounts declared. She liked but little our -being left alone without my father, as may well be understood, and -having around us nothing but negroes and bought, or indented, white -servants; yet, whether we liked it or not it had to be borne as best -might be. Both of us could handle pistols, in the use of which my -father had perfected us, as was necessary, or might at any instant be -necessary; and there were about the house one or two men who could -perhaps be relied upon. Such was Mungo, our old negro butler, who, -like myself, was of the fourth generation of his race settled in -Virginia, since his great-grandfather was brought a slave from Africa -and sold to my Lord Baltimore; and there were one or two others of his -colour. Yet, as I say, we liked not being alone and, even on the -hottest summer nights, would have all the great house carefully closed -and barred and shuttered, and would pass our time as best we might by -playing and singing at the spinet, or playing at such games as ombre -or shove-groat. And Mary Mills and I would huddle ourselves together -in my great bed at night for company, and, as we sillily said, for -safety, and shiver and shake over every mouse that ran behind the -wainscot or at every sound we heard without, dreading that it meant -the Indians or a revolt amongst the plantation hands. - -Therefore you may be sure that whenever my father and cousin, or my -father alone, returned from Norfolk or from Jamestown, we were right -glad to see them, and to know that our loneliness as well as our -unprotectedness was over for the time; and so 'twas now. They rode in -as we were sitting down to our midday meal and, after my father and -Gregory had each drunk a good stoup of rum (which we exchange largely -for our tobacco with our brother colonists in Jamaica, the men finding -it a pleasant, wholesome drink, when mixed with water) the former -said: - -"So my chicks have not been harried by the Indian foxes this time -neither. 'Tis well. And see, now, there are some ships in from home. -His Majesty's sloop _Terrific_ is in the Bay, and the girls of -Richmond are preparing to give a dance to the officers--thou should'st -be there, Joice!---and there is a merchantman from London full of -precious stuffs and toys. Yet, since I have no money, I could bring -thee nought, my dear." - -Here we laughed, for my father ever made this joke preparatory to -producing his presents, and I said: - -"What have you brought?" - -"What have I brought? Well, let me consider. What say you now to a new -horloge for the saloon? our old one is getting crazy in its works, as -well it may be, since my grandfather brought it from home with him. -This one hath Berthould and Mudges' 'scapements, so the captain of the -ship told me," my father went on, reading from a piece of paper, "or -rather wrote it down, and he guarantees it will be going a hundred -years hence. Then, for a silk gown, I have purchased thee some -pieces--our own early ventures in Virginian silk were none too -successful!--which will become thy fair complexion well, and I have an -odd piece of lace or two for a hood. While for you, Miss Mills," with -an old-fashioned bow, which I think he must have learnt when young and -used to attend Governor Spotswood's receptions, "as you are a dark -beauty I have brought also a lace hood, and a new book since you love -verse. 'Tis by one Mr. Thomson, and seems to describe the seasons -prettily. The captain tells me it has ever a ready sale at home." - -Then we thanked him as best we knew how, after which Gregory--who was -ever timid and retiring before women, though like a lion, as I have -heard others say, when chasing the Indians or a bear or wolf--stepped -forward and said: - -"And I, too, have brought thee a present, Joice, if thou wilt take it -from my hands." - -He spoke this way because his heart was sore that I could not love him -and would not promise to be his wife, often as he had asked me. Tho', -indeed, I did love him as a cousin, nay, as a brother, only he always -said it was not that he wanted but a love sweeter and dearer than a -sister's. - -"I have brought you," he went on, "a filagree bracelet for your arms, -tho'," in a lower voice, "they need no adornment. And for thy head a -philomot-coloured hood, different in shape from the one uncle has -brought. And its russet hue should well become thy golden hair, that -looks like the wheat when 'tis a-ripening." - -But here I bade him pay me no more compliments lest I should become -vain, and then we all sat down to our meal together. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE BOND SLAVE - - -"And now," said my father, after he and Gregory had eaten well of what -was on the table, such as most excellent fish from the river, one of -our baked hams, potatoes, sweet potatoes, pones and wheaten bread, as -well as puddings of papaw, or custard apples. - -"And now we have a strange recital to make to you young ladies, the -like of which is not often heard, or if heard--for the convict -villains and bought servants are capable of any lies--not much -believed in." - -"What is it?" Mary Mills and I both asked in the same breath. "Tho'," -she went on, "perhaps I can guess. Is't some young princess who has -come out as a 'convict villain?'" and here she laughed. "Nay, 'twould -not be so wonderful. From Bristol in my time there were many went -forth who, when they reached here, or the Islands, told marvellous -strange stories of their real position--sometimes imposing so much -upon the planters that there would come letters home asking if such -and such a woman could indeed be the Lady This, or if such and such a -man could be the Lord That? Yet they never could procure proofs that -such was the case." - -My father and Gregory exchanged glances at her words, and then the -former said: - -"And such a letter I think I must send home. For I have bought to-day -a young fellow--as much out of pity as for any use he is like to be, -such a poor, starved radish of a young man is he--who protests and -swears that 'tis all a mistake his being here, and that some dreadful -villainy has been practised on him. For he says that, though not a -lord himself, he is the son and heir of one, ay! and of a marquis, -too, in the future." - -I cried out at this, for my girl's curiosity was aroused, and Miss -Mills exclaimed, "'Tis ever the old story. They have talents, these -servants, tho' they apply them but ill. They should turn romancers -when I warrant that they would outdo such stories as 'Polyxander,' or -'L'Illustre Bassa,' or 'Le Grand Cyrus,' or even the wanderings of -Mendes Pinto." - -"Yet," said Gregory, "there seems a strain of truth in his words. He -speaks like a gentleman,"--Gregory had been educated at Harvard, so he -was a fitting judge, independently of being a gentleman himself--"and, -undoubtedly, no convict from home or rapscallion fleeing from justice -would talk as assuredly as he does of his father's anger on those who -kidnapped him, or of the certainty of his being sent for by the first -ship from Ireland--whence he has come--if he had not some grounds to -go upon." - -"From whom did you purchase this youth, Mr. Bampfyld?" asked Mary, who -herself seemed now to be impressed by what they said. - -"From the most villainous-looking captain I ever set my eyes on," -replied my father; "a fellow who could look no one straight in the -face, but who sold off his cargo as quickly as he could, took the -money, and, with a fine breeze, departed from the Bay last evening, -having taken in some fresh water. His papers were for Newcastle, on -the Delaware, but he said he could make as good a market in Virginia -as there--if not better. I gave," went on my father, "a bond of twelve -hundred pounds of tobacco for this fellow, which I borrowed of Roger -Cliborne, and so miserable did he look that I gave it out of -compassion. Whether he will ever be worth the money is doubtful, but -Heaven send that he, at least, involves us in no trouble." - -He spake meaning that he trusted the youth would involve us in no -trouble with the Government at home, nor with the Lords of Trade and -Plantations who, since many people had wrongfully been sent out to the -colonies of late years--in spite of Mary Mills' banter---had caused -much investigation to take place recently into such cases, and had, -thereby, created much discomfort and annoyance as well as loss of -money to those into whose hands such people had fallen. Alas! had this -wretched young man caused us no worse trouble than this in the future -we could have borne it well enough. What he did bring upon us was so -terrible that, Christian tho' I trust I am, I cannot refrain from -saying it would have been better that he should have been drowned from -the vessel that brought him over than ever to have been able to curse -Pomfret with his presence. - -The sun was dipping towards the Alleghanies by now, so that, at the -back of the house, it was getting cool and pleasant, and Gregory said -that if the ladies so chose we might go down and see the young -gentleman, who was, doubtless, by this time duly placed among the -other convicts, bought-servants and redemptioners. Wherefore, putting -on our sun-hoods, Mary and I went forth with them--who by now had -finished not only their dinner but their beloved pipes and -rum-sangaree--and down to where those poor creatures abode. - -We had some eighty such, including negroes, at this moment on our -plantation, an a motley collection they were, as I have already told. -Those who came under the name of "redemptioners" were the best workers -as well as the most trustworthy, because, having an object before -them, namely, to establish themselves in the colonies when the service -into which they had sold themselves for four years to pay their -passage out, was over, they worked hard and lived orderly and -respectably, and were generally promoted to be overseers above the -others. Two or three of them were married, their wives having either -come with them or been selected from among the female redemptioners, -and all of them knew either a good trade or were skilful mechanics, so -that they were doubly useful. Then there were the "bought" servants, -as distinguished from the redemptioners, who consisted generally of -the wretched creatures who had been made drunk at home and smuggled on -board when in that state, or who, being beggars in the streets of -Bristol, London, Leith, or Dublin, were but too glad to exchange -their cold and hunger for the prospect of warmth and food in the -colonies--the description of which latter places lost nothing in the -telling by those who shipped them at, you may be sure, a profit. These -were called the "kids," because of having been kidnapped, and also -because most of them were very young. Next, there were the convicts, -the worst of all as a rule to deal with, since many of them were -hardened criminals at home who had been spared hanging and cast for -transportation instead, and had become no better men or women under -the colonial rule. Even in my short life we had had some dreadful -beings amongst these servants, one having been a highwayman at home, -another a coiner and clipper, a third a footpad and a cutthroat, a -fourth a robber of drunken men, and so on, while there were women -whose mode of life in England I may not name nor think of. All were -not, however, equally bad, nor had all been such sinners in England. -One had done no more than steal a loaf when starving, another had -hoaxed a greenhorn with pinchbeck watches; one, when drunk, had -shouted for James Sheppard, a poor lunatic, who had thought to -assassinate the late King, another had been mixed up with Councillor -Layer's silly attempt to bring in the Pretender. Yet all had stood -their trials and had been sentenced to death, but had afterwards had -that sentence commuted. And in every plantation in all the colonies -much the same thing prevailed. The treatment of these bond servants -varied not so much according to the laws of the different countries or -states, as according to the tempers and feelings of their different -owners for the time being. If a man was merciful he treated them well -and fed them well; if he was cruel he beat them and starved them, -whipped both white men and women, when they were naked, with hickory -rods steeped in brine, and, when they were sick, let them die because, -since they were his only for four years, their lives were not worth -preserving. And, although he might not kill them by law, as he might a -negro or a dog, if he did kill them it was unknown for notice to be -taken of it. And sometimes, too, dissipated planters would gamble for -their white men and women as they would for bales of tobacco or bags -of Virginia shillings, so that those who had a hard master one day -exchanged him for a good one on the next, or the case might be exactly -reversed. My father, though firm, could not be considered aught else -but a good master to both his black and white servants. Indian meal -was allowed them in large quantities, while pork--though true it is -that our swine were so numerous that they were accounted almost -valueless--was served out to them regularly. Moreover, those who did -well were given small rewards, even if only a Rosa Americana farthing -now and again, while for floggings, none received them but those who -stole, or ran away and were recaptured, or misbehaved themselves -grossly. But each, on being purchased on to our estate, had read to -him a dreadful list of punishments which he would surely receive if he -did aught to merit them. It was thought well by my father that the -fear of such punishments should be kept ever before their eyes, even -if those punishments were but rarely dealt out. - -We heard much laughing and many derisive shouts as we drew near the -white servants' quarters, nor had we long to wait or far to go before -we discovered the cause of it, which was our new purchase telling the -others of his miseries and dreadful lot, as he termed it. Through the -breaks in the trees we perceived him seated on a pork barrel--a -miserable-looking figure, unkempt and dirty. His long straight hair, -like a New England Puritan's or a Quaker's, was hanging down his -shoulders; he had no shoes upon his feet, and thus he was holding -forth to his new acquaintances. - -"So consider," we heard him say, as we drew near, "consider what I, a -gentleman, the Honourable Roderick St. Amande, have suffered. Near -five months at sea, nearly drowned and shipwrecked, with our ship -driven out of her course, then chased by pirates who knew the cargo -there was on board; beaten, ill-used, cuffed and ill-treated by -all--and all of it a mistake." - -"Ay," exclaimed the man who had been, it was said, a housebreaker, and -was a rough, coarse fellow, "and so was my affair all a mistake. 'Twas -friend Jonathan--Jonathan Wild who hath now himself been hanged, as I -have since heard--who pinched me falsely, but the Government, -recognising my merits more than my lord on the bench, who was asleep -when he tried me, sent me out here where I fell into the hands of old -Nick." - -Thus the wretch presumed to speak of my father, whose Christian name -was Nicholas, and his remarks were received with laughter; upon which -he went on, "Yet, take heart of grace, my young Irish cock-sparrow. -Thou art in good hands. Nick is a good man and will not over-work -thee; and he will feed thee, which is more than thy beggarly country -could well do. Moreover, when thou hast done thy four years' service, -thou canst palm off thy pretended lordship on some young colonial girl -who will doubtless be glad enough to wed thee; if thou makest thy -story plausible. Nay, there is one at hand; Nick hath a daughter fair -as a lily, with lips like roses----" - -"Silence, villain," said my father in a voice of thunder, as he strode -forth from under the trees, his eyes flashing fiercely. "Thou hound!" -he went on, addressing the man. "Is it thus you dare to speak of me -and mine! Overseer," calling to one who was seated in his hut, and who -came forth at once, "see this man has nought but Indian meal served -out to him during the remainder of his service. How much longer is -that service?" - -"About four months, your honour," the overseer replied. - -"So be it. Nothing but meal for him, and where there is any one labour -harder than another, set him to it. And, hark ye," he said, turning to -the convict. "If in those four months I find my daughter's name has -been on your foul lips again, you shall be flogged till you are -dead--even though I have to answer for it to the Lords of Trades and -Plantations myself. Go." - -The fellow slunk away cowed and followed by the overseer who drove him -to the shed he inhabited with the other convicts, and, although it was -their hour of relaxation previous to their last work in the evening, -he ordered him to remain there under pain of flogging. Then my father, -turning to his new purchase, bade him get off the barrel and come -forth under the shade of the trees to where we were. - -He did so, looking, as I thought, with some awe upon him who could -speak so fiercely and have his orders at once obeyed. Also, we all -observed that when he drew near to us and saw ladies, he took off the -ragged, filthy cap he wore with a polite bow though an easy one, and -with the air of one who is being presented to those with whom he is on -a perfect equality. My father's face relaxed into a slight smile at -this, while Mary whispered to me, "Faith! 'tis becoming vastly -interesting. The creature is, I believe, in very truth, a gentleman." - -"Now, young man," my father said, "you harp well upon this story of -your being a nobleman's son---the Honourable Roderick St. Amande, you -say you are? What proofs have you of this?" - -The youth looked at him, frankly enough as we thought, and then he -replied, "None here, because of the wicked scheme that has been -practised on me instead of on--but no matter. Yet I have told you the -truth of how I was kidnapped by two ruffians, a man and a youth--when -I was dr--when I had been entertaining my friends in Dublin." - -This part of his story he had, indeed, told my father and Gregory on -the journey back from Norfolk where he was bought, and they had -already repeated it to us, as you have heard. - -"But," he continued, "'tis capable enough of proof, if you will prove -it. Write to Dublin, write to the Viscount St. Amande, my father, or -to the King-at-Arms, who hath enrolled him successor to my uncle, -Gerald, the late Lord, or, if you will, write to the Marquis of -Amesbury, whose kinsman and successor, after my father, I am." - -"Humph!" said my father, "the name of the Marquis is known to me. -'Twas once thought he should have been sent Governor of Maryland, only -he would not. He thought himself too great a man." - -"Young man," said Mary Mills, "since you say you are heir to the -Marquis of Amesbury, doubtless you can tell us his lordship's country -seat?" - -"Young lady," he replied, looking at her in so strange a way that, as -she said later that night, she should dread him ever after, "'twere -best to say his 'seats.' One he has near Richmond, in Surrey, a pretty -place; another is in Essex, but the greatest of all is Amesbury Court, -near Bristol--" Mary started at this, for she knew it to be -true--"though in his town house, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, he has some -choice curiosities, to say nothing of some most excellent wine. I -would I had a draught of it now--your infernal American sun burns me -to pieces, and the cruel voyage has nigh killed me." - -"Young man," said Gregory, "remember that, whomsoever you be, you are -here a slave, and not free to express your thoughts either on our -climate or aught else." - -"May be," replied the youth, "but it cannot be for long, if -this--this--per--gentleman will but make enquiries. A letter may go -from here to Ireland, if the vessel has not such cursed winds as the -slave-ship had that brought me, and a reply come back, within three -months. And if you neither beat nor kill me, but treat me fair, you -shall be well rewarded----" - -"Stay," said my father, "on this, my estate, it is best for you not to -speak of reward to me. Where rewards are given in Virginia they are -given by the masters, not by the slaves. But, since you keep to your -story and do challenge me to make enquiries as to its veracity, I have -determined to act as a Christian to you. You shall neither be beaten -nor hurt on my plantations--none are who behave well--and, pending the -time that an answer may come as to the letter I shall write, you shall -be fairly treated. If your narrative is true, you shall be free to go -by the next ship that sails for England. If it is false, or it -appeareth that you have used your knowledge of the noble families you -have mentioned to impose on us, you shall be whipped and kept to the -hardest work on the plantations till your time is served." - -"I am obliged to you," the other answered. "And you may be assured -that you will receive confirmation of the truth of all I have told -you. Meanwhile, what is to be my lot until that confirmation comes?" - -"I will consider. Can you keep accounts and reckonings?" - -The young man, perhaps because he felt that was assured of easy -treatment for some space of time at least, gave a laugh at this and -cut a kind of caper, so that we ourselves were almost forced to laugh -outright; and then he said: - -"The devil an account--saving the young women's pardon--have I ever -kept except to try and check the swindling rogues at the taverns who -were ever for adding on to the scores I owed them, and inserting in -the list bowls of punch and flasks of sherris I had never drunk. And -the fashioners would ever insert charges for hoods for the girls, or -laces for Doll----" - -"Your recollections are scarcely seemly before these ladies," my -father again interrupted sternly. "My nephew and I have had already -twice to bid you mind your expressions. Now, sir, hear me and remember -what I say. If I treat you well you must behave yourself as becomes a -gentleman, and use neither strong language nor introduce unseemly -stories into your talk. For, if you do not conform to these orders of -mine, you will be sent back to dwell among the bond-servants to whom -doubtless your language and narratives will be acceptable." - -"I ask pardon," the other said, though by no means graciously, and -speaking rather as one who was forced by an inferior to do that which -he disliked. "I will offend the ladies' delicacy no more." - -Then, without hesitation, he changed the subject and said, "And when, -sir, may I expect to get some proper food? I have neither eaten nor -drunk since you brought me from the coast this morning." - -"You shall have food," my father replied. "Come with us"; while, as we -all went back to the house, he said to Gregory, "'Tis the coolest -rascal that was ever sold as a slave into the colonies. It seems -impossible to doubt but that his story must be true." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A SLAVE'S GRATITUDE! - - -And now I have to tell, as briefly as may be, of how the Honourable -Roderick St. Amande--as he said he was, and as we all came to believe -he was in very truth--who had come as a bought slave and bond-servant -to our house, became ere long almost one of us, mixing on the same -footing with us and, indeed, living almost the life of a member of my -father's family. To listen to his discourse was, indeed, to be forced -to believe in him, for while he had ceased to insist upon the truth of -his position, as though 'twas no longer necessary, every word he -uttered showed that he must have held that position at home and had, -at least, mixed amongst those with whom he claimed to be on an -equality. He spoke of other lords and ladies with such easy freedom as -no impostor could have assumed who had only known them by sight or -hearsay; he described London and Dublin, and the Courts of both, in a -manner which other Virginians, who were in the habit of paying -frequent visits home, acknowledged was perfectly just and accurate, -and, above all, his easy assumption of familiarity, if not -superiority, to those whom he designated as "colonials" and -"emigrants," impressed everyone. To my father, whose bread he ate in -easy servitude, he behaved with a not disrespectful freedom; Gregory -he treated as a sort of provincial acquaintance; and to Mary Mills and -myself he assumed an easy degree of intercourse which was at once -amusing and galling. And that he was a bought slave who might be -starved or flogged, and possibly killed if his master were cruelly -disposed, he seemed to have entirely forgotten. - -Yet--bitter as is the confession, knowing now how this wretch repaid -at last that which was done for him--all of us came to regard him as -an intimate, and, if the truth must be told, to take some amusement in -his society. To my father he could tell many interesting stories, -young as he was, of men moving in the gay world at home, of whom the -former had heard, or with whose forerunners he had been acquainted. To -Gregory he described the hunting of the fox in England and Ireland; -racing which he had seen at Newmarket and on Hampstead Heath and -Southsea Common, new guns that were invented for the chase, and the -improved breeds of harriers that were trained in Wiltshire. To Mary -and myself--shame on us that we loved to hear such things!--he would -tell of the ladies of the Court and their love affairs and -intriguings; of the women of the theatres and their great appetites -and revellings, and of the balls and ridottos and "hops," as he termed -them, which took place. Of books, though he had been at school at -Harrow, he seemed to know nothing, though he had little scraps of -Latin which he would lug into his conversation as suitable to the -subject. Yet to us, to Mary who had never been allowed to go to a -theatre in England, or to me who dwelt in a land where such a thing -had never at this time been heard of, and where an exhibition of a -polar bear, or a lion, or a camel in a barn was a marvel that drew -crowds from miles around, his talk was agreeable. - -Unfortunately, however, there was that about him which led us two -women--though I was scarce a woman then--to keep him at his distance. -Being made free of the rum and the sangaree as well as, sometimes, the -imported brandy, and being often with the young gentlemen of other -plantations, whom he soon came to know, he was frequently inebriated, -and, when in this state, was not fit to be encountered. My white -bondmaid, Christian Lamb (who as a girl of fourteen had been sentenced -to death in London for stealing a bottle of sweetmeats, but was -afterwards cast for transportation) was one of the objects of his -passion until her brother, a convict, threatened to have revenge if he -did not desist. Of this brother so strange a thing was related that I -must here repeat it. Going to bid farewell to his sister, Christian, -in the transport at Woolwich, near London, he begged the captain to -take him, too, as a foremast man, but this the other refused, bidding -him brutally to wait but a little while and he would doubtless come -soon "in the proper way," namely, as a convict himself. Enraged, he -went ashore and picked a gentleman's pocket of a handkerchief, when, -sure enough, he came out in the next transport to Virginia, and, -enquiring for his sister, had the extreme good fortune to attract my -father's notice and to be bought by him. - -To Mary and to me Mr. St. Amande ever used the language of his class, -as, I suppose, in England, and would exclaim: - -"How beautiful you both are. You, Miss Mills, are dark as the Queen of -Night, as the fellow saith in the play, while you Miss Bampfyld are -like unto the lilies of the field. 'Tis well I have not to stay here -long or my heart would be irremediably gone--split in twain, one half -labelled 'Mary,' t'other 'Joice.' Nay, I know not that I do not love -you both now." - -"Best keep your love, sir," Mary would reply, "for those who wish it, -as doubtless there are many. 'Tis said you admire many of the -bond-women below; why not offer your love to them as well as your -pretty speeches?" - -Whereon he would flush up and reply, "Madam, my love is for my equals. -You forget I am a peer in the future." - -"And a slave in the present," she would retort, as it seemed to me -then, cruelly. "Therefore are the bond-women your equals." - -His drunkenness angered my father so, that, sometimes, he would order -him out of the great saloon, where he would unconcernedly sprawl -about, soiling our imported Smyrna and Segodia carpets, disarranging -our old English furniture we prized so much, and rumpling the silk -and satin covers on the couches. Then, when ordered forth, he would -often disappear for a day or so, to be heard of next as being at a -cock-fight at some neighbouring hamlet; or in a drinking bout with our -clergyman, a most depraved divine who was only kept in his position -till a more decorous person could be obtained; or herding down with -the bond-servants and negroes till driven away by the overseers. - -"In truth," my father would at these times exclaim, "I wish heartily a -letter would come from the Marquis." He had written to him in -preference to Lord St. Amande, reflecting that if, after all, the -fellow was not what he seemed to be, the Marquis must be the man to -set things right, while Lord St. Amande might, in such a case, be an -impostor himself. Yet it grew more and more difficult to suppose this, -since the youth himself had once or twice sent off letters addressed -to "The Right Hon., The Viscount St. Amande," at Grafton Street, -Dublin; to another gentleman addressed as "Wolfe Considine, Esquire," -and to still another addressed as "Lord Charles Garrett, at The -Castle, Dublin." - -"'Tis a plaguey fellow this," he said to us of his lordship one day -with a laugh, as he closed the latter up, "to whom I was engaged, as I -seem to remember, to fight a duel on the morning the ruffians -kidnapped me. A son of the Marquis of Tullamore, and a fire-eater, -because his father had got him a pair of colours in Dunmore's -regiment. He will swear I ran away for fear of him, till he gets this -letter telling him I will meet him directly I set foot in Ireland -again." - -"What," said my father one night to me as we sat in the porch, "does -he mean when he mutters something about an impostor who claims his -father's title? I have heard him speak on the subject to you and Miss -Mills, though, since I can not abide the youth, I have paid but little -heed." - -"He says," I replied, while my father smoked his great pipe and -listened lazily, "that there is some youth in Ireland who claims to be -the rightful lord, being the son of his uncle, the late Viscount. Yet -he is not his son, he says, being in truth the son of that lord's wife -who lived not with her husband." - -"Humph!" exclaimed my father, "then 'tis strange he should be here -sold into bond-service while the other is free at home. 'Tis common -enough for such poor lads as that other to get sent away, but peers' -true sons not often. Perhaps," he went on, "it is this gracious youth -who is the impostor and not that other." - -"I know not," I replied, "but from what Mary and I can gather--and he -speaks more freely in his cups than ordinarily--there seems to have -been some plot devised for shipping off that other, but some springe -having been set this one was sent instead. Yet, he says, he cannot -himself comprehend it, since the other was a beggar dwelling with -beggars, while he was amongst the best, so that no confusion should -have arisen." - -"Does he say that his father, Lord St. Amande, entered into so foul a -plot as that?" - -"Nay, he says the youth was a young criminal cast for transportation -for robbery, but that he escaped from jail and, in the hunt after him, -they secured the wrong one, which he accounts for by both bearing the -same name." - -Again my father said "Humph!" and pondered awhile, and then, as he -rose to seek his bed, he continued, "We shall know the truth some day, -may be. The Marquis of Amesbury will surely answer my letter, and, -indeed, if this young tosspot be what he says he is, there should -already be some on their way to Virginia to seek for him. He cannot -have been smuggled off without some talk arising about the affair, -and, even if that should not be so, the letters he has sent by the -couriers to his father should bring forth some response--if his tale -is true." - -So the time went on and the period drew near when news might be -expected from Ireland. As it so went on and that intelligence might be -looked for, we grew more and more sure that Mr. St. Amande's story -must be true. For so certain did he seem of the fact that letters -would come from his father--he knowing not that mine had written to -the Marquis of Amesbury--requiring his release and paying, as the -young man was courteous enough to term it, "my father's charges," that -he threw off any restraint he might previously have had, and treated -us all with even greater freedom than before. Yet, as you shall hear, -he went too far. - -He would not, however, have gone as far as he did if, at this time, my -father had not fallen into a sickness which obliged him to keep his -bed--alas! it was to bring him to his end!--so that there was none to -control this young man. Gregory, who had his own plantation where he -lived with his widowed mother, and their joint interests to look -after, could not be always at our place, and thus the marvellous thing -came about that Mr. St. Amande, though our bond-servant in actual -fact, did in our house almost what he pleased. He came and went as he -chose, he rode my father's horses, he drank rum morning, noon and -night, and he even brought his degraded friend, the clergyman, into -the house to drink with him under the excuse of that wicked old man -being necessary for my father's spiritual needs. But the latter -ordered that degraded man from the room where he lay sick, and bade -him begone, and, later on, at night, when these two began singing and -bawling in their cups--so that some of the negroes and servants -outside thought the Indians had at last surrounded us!--he staggered -forth from his chamber, and, from the landing, swore he would go down -and shoot them if they did not desist. - -But now came the time when all this turmoil and this disgrace to our -house was to cease. - -I was passing one night through the saloon, having, indeed, come in -from the porch where I had been advising with Gregory, who had ridden -over to see us, as to what was to be done if my father remained much -longer sick and we still had this dreadful infliction upon our house, -when to my surprise--for I thought him away cockfighting--I saw him -reel into the hall, and, perceiving me, direct his steps into the room -where I was. - -"Ha! ha! my pretty Joice!" he exclaimed, as he did so; "ha! ha! my -Virginian beauty. So thou art here! How sweet, too, thou look'st -to-night with thy bare white arms and rosy lips and golden hair. -Faith, Joice! colonist girl though thou art, thou are fit to be -beloved of any," and he hiccoughed loudly. - -"If Gregory had not but gone this instant," I exclaimed, "he should -whip you, you ill-mannered dog, for daring to speak to me thus in my -father's own house. Get you to bed, sir, and disturb not the place." - -"To bed! Not I! 'Tis not yet ten o' the clock and I am not accustomed -to such hours. Nay, Joice, think on't, my dear. Five months at sea, -kicked and cuffed and starved, and now in the land of plenty--plenty -to eat and drink. And to spend, too! See here, my Joice," and he -pulled out a handful of English guineas from his pocket. "Won 'em all -at the match from that put Pringle, who, colonist though he is, hath -impudently been sent to Oxford and is now back. Won't go to bed, -Joice, for hours," he hiccoughed. "No! Fetch me bottle brandy. We'll -sit up together and I'll tell you how I love you." - -"Let me pass, _slave_," I exclaimed in my anger, while he still stood -barring my way. "Let me pass." - -"Hoity-toity. Slave, eh? Slave! And for how long, think you, my -pretty? Ships are due in the bay even now, and then I can pay off thy -father and go home. Yet I know not that I will go home. I have -conceived a fancy for Virginia and Virginian girls. Above all for -thee, Joice. I love thy golden head and blue eyes and rosy lips--what -said the actor fellow in the play of old Bess's day, of lips like -roses filled with snow? He must have dreamt of such as thine!--I love -them, I say. And, Joice, I do love thee." - -I was trembling with anger all the while he spoke, and now I said: - -"While my father lies sick I rule in this house, and to-morrow that -rule shall see you punished. To-morrow you shall go amongst the -convicts and the bond-servants, and do slaves' work. You tipsy dog, -this house is no place for you!" - -He took no notice of my words beyond a drunken grin, and then, because -he was a cowardly ruffian who thought he could safely assault a young -girl who was alone and defenceless while her father lay ill upstairs, -he sprang towards me and seized me in his arms exclaiming: "Roses -filled with snow! And I will have a kiss from them. I will, I say, I -will. Thy charms madden me, Joice." - -But now, while I struggled with him and beat his face with my clenched -hands, I sent shriek upon shriek forth, and I screamed to my father -and Mary to come and save me from the monster. - -"Ssh-ssh!" he said, while still he endeavoured to kiss me. "Hush, -you pretty fool, hush! You will arouse the house, and kisses cost -nothing--ha, the devil!" - -He broke off his speech and released me, for now he saw a sight that -struck fear to his craven heart. Standing in the open doorway, his -face as white as the long dressing robe he wore, was my father with -his drawn hanger in his hand, and, behind him, Mary Mills and one or -two negroes. - -"God!" he exclaimed, "my daughter assaulted by my own bought servant. -You villain! your life alone can atone for this." Then, with one step, -his strength returning to him for a moment, he came within distance of -the ruffian, and, reaching his sword on high, struck full at his head. -Fortunately for the other, but unfortunately for future events, his -feebleness made that sword shake in his hand so that it missed the -wretch's head--though only by a hair's breadth--and, descending, -struck off one of his ears so that it fell upon the polished floor of -the saloon, while the weapon cut into his shoulder as it continued its -course. - -"This time I will make more sure," my father exclaimed, raising the -sword again, but, ere he could renew the attack, with one bound -accompanied by a hideous yell of pain, the villain Roderick St. Amande -had leapt out on to the porch and fled down the steps--his track being -marked by a line of blood. While my poor father, overcome by his -exertions, and seeing that the wretch had escaped, fell back fainting -into the arms of Mary Mills. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A VISITOR FROM ENGLAND - - -Five years have passed away since then and now, when I again begin the -recitation of the strange events of which my house was the centre, and -I, who was then scarcely more than a child, have to record all that -happened around me when I had developed into a woman. - -By this period my dearly loved father had been long dead; had been, -indeed, borne to his grave nearly four years ago, accompanied by all -that ceremony with which a Virginian gentleman is always interred; and -I ruled in his stead. Thus, you will comprehend, he had lived for some -months after he had endeavoured to slay Mr. St. Amande for his assault -upon me, and during those months we had received information about who -and what he was, though there was still more to be learnt later on. - -Indeed, he had not fled our house a week ere the courier brought a -letter which had arrived from home; a letter sealed with a great seal -as big as that of the Governor of Virginia, and addressed with much -formal courtesy to "Nicholas Bampfyld, Esquire, Gentleman and Planter, -of Pomfret Manor, on the James River, partly in King and Queen, and -partly in King County, Virginia, etc." And when it was perused we -found it did indeed contain strange matter, though, strange as it was, -not difficult of understanding. - -The Marquis, who wrote in his own hand, began by stating that, since -all who bore the name of St. Amande were immediate kin of his, he -thanked Mr. Bampfyld for in any way having shown kindness, which he -was not called upon to show, to the youth, Roderick St. Amande. Yet, -he proceeded to state, Mr. Bampfyld had in part been imposed upon by -that young man, since, while he was in truth an heir of the title, he -was by no means an immediate one, nor was his father really the -Viscount St. Amande. The actual possessor of that title, his lordship -said, was Gerald St. Amande, son of the late lord, his heir being -(while Gerald was unmarried and without a son) his uncle Robert, -falsely, at present, terming himself Lord St. Amande, and then, in -succession to him, Roderick St. Amande. - -"But," continued the Marquis, "it was indeed most remarkable that Mr. -Bampfyld's letter should have arrived at the moment it did, for, while -he stated that he had purchased Roderick St. Amande from the captain -of a slave-trading vessel, they at home were under very grave fears -that some similar disaster had befallen Gerald, the real lord, since -he too was missing and no tidings could be gleaned of him. He had, -however, disappeared from London and not from Dublin while left alone -but a little while by a most faithful friend and companion of his (who -was now as one distracted by his loss), and they could only conjecture -that the young lord had either been stolen by kidnappers and sent to -the West Indian or the American plantations, or else impressed for -service in one of His Majesty's vessels, the press having been very -hot of late." - -The Marquis added that he felt little alarm at the young lord's -future, since he knew it could only be a matter Of time as to his -release, no matter where he had been taken to, while as to Mr. -Roderick St. Amande he trusted Mr. Bampfyld would continue his -kindness to him, put him in the way of returning to his family, and -let him have what was necessary of money, for all of which he begged -Mr. Bampfyld to draw upon him as he saw fit, and the drafts should be -instantly honoured. - -So, with profuse and reiterated thanks, this nobleman concluded his -letter, and at the same time stated that Mr. Roderick St. Amande might -not intentionally have intended to deceive Mr. Bampfyld as to his -proper position, since, doubtless, his own father--who was a most -unworthy and wicked person--had really fed the youth's mind with the -idea that he was the heir-apparent to the peerage. - -My father never did draw on the Marquis of Amesbury for the money he -had expended, nor, indeed, would he have any mention ever made of -Roderick St. Amande, though be commissioned Gregory to sit down and -write to his lordship a full account of all the doings of that young -libertine from the time he came to us until he left, and also bade my -cousin not to omit how he had struck off his ear when he would, had he -been able, have slain him. This letter of Gregory's was not answered -until after my father had passed away, when we received another from -the Marquis full of expressions of regret for the misbehaviour of his -relative, and stating that, henceforth, he neither intended to -acknowledge Roderick nor his father as kinsmen of his. Also, he -remarked, that had Mr. Bampfyld killed the profligate he would have -only accorded him his deserts, and could have merited no blame from -honest men for doing so. Likewise, he told us that news had been heard -of the real lord, Gerald, Viscount St. Amande, who had indeed been -impressed for a seaman on board His Majesty's ship _Namur_, in which -Admiral Sir Chaloner Ogle had hoisted his flag, and that, on the -vessel having sailed the same night and he making known his condition -to the Admiral, that illustrious officer had taken him under his -charge and promised to treat him as a petty officer and promote him to -better things should his command be a long one. - -This was the last letter we had from home touching this strange -matter--excepting a letter from the Marquis's secretary stating that -his lordship had not as yet been called on to honour any draft of Mr. -Bampfyld's, which he would very willingly do. Yet of the matter itself -there was now to be more trouble, ay! more dreadful, horrid trouble -than had happened up to now. This you shall see later. Meanwhile, our -life went on very peacefully at the Manor, and, when I had reconciled -myself to my dear father's loss, was not an unhappy one. Mary remained -with me ever as my friend and companion, helping me to direct the -household duties, singing and playing with me upon the spinet and the -harpsichord, riding with me sometimes to Richmond, or Norfolk, or -Williamsburg, sometimes called Middle Plantation, and assisting me in -my garden, for which she constantly obtained from her friends in -Bristol many of the dear old English plants and seeds. Yet I feared -that the day must come ere long when she would cease to be an inmate -of my house, tho' still a neighbour. For it was very evident that she -had formed an affection, which was warmly returned, for the young -Irish clergyman whom our neighbour, Mr. Cliborne, had brought out from -England on his return from his last visit there, to replace the -dissolute old man who had been Mr. St. Amande's friend and brother -carouser. This young divine was a very different kind of man from -that other, being most attentive in his duties and expounding the -Word--according to the forms of the Established Church--most -beautifully, and was, withal, a cheerful companion. He could also -write sweet verses--whereby he partly gained, I think, Mary's -heart--and he could take part in a catch or a glee admirably, so that, -when in the evening we all sang together in the saloon, the blacks -would gather round outside to hear and, sometimes, to hum in concert -with us. To add to which his learning was profound. - -But what interested me more than all was that Mr. Jonathan -Kinchella--such being his name--was able to throw a thoroughly clear -light upon the whole of the transactions connected with the St. Amande -family; he could explain all that you, yourselves, know as to how the -scapegrace, Roderick, came out to Virginia, and he told us of all the -sufferings of that poor young man whom he always spoke of as Gerald, -so that we could not but weep at their recountal. For what woman's -heart, nay, what human heart, would not be touched by the -description of that poor child torn from his mother's arms, living the -life of a beggar in rags, and witnessing the funeral of his father -conducted by charity? Oh! it was pitiful, we said to one another, -pitiful; and when we knelt down to pray at night we besought a -blessing on Mr. Kinchella and on that other good Christian, Quin, the -butcher, for all that they had done for that unhappy young outcast. - -But, previous to the arrival of this gentleman, I received a visit, of -which I must speak, from another person, who also seemed much -interested in those two cousins, and who, at the time when he came, I -regarded as a most kind, benevolent gentleman. - -Mary and I were seated one morning in our dining-saloon, it being then -some months after my father's death, when Mungo entered the room and -said that there was, without, a gentleman on his road to the proposed -new settlement of Georgia. One who, the black added, would be very -glad if I could accord him a moment's reception, since he was a friend -of the St. Amande family, and that his name was Captain O'Rourke. - -Bidding him be shown into the great saloon--for even now our curiosity -was great to hear any news about this strange family, one of whose -members, and he, doubtless, the worst, had dwelt with us--we entered -that apartment shortly afterwards, and perceived our visitor standing -at the long windows gazing down across the plantations to where the -river ran. As he turned and made us a deep and most courtly bow, we -observed that he was a gentleman of perhaps something more than -middle age, with dark rolling eyes and a somewhat rosy face, and also -that he was of large bulk. He was handsomely dressed in a dark blue -riding-frock, gold laced; with, underneath, a crimson waistcoat, and -his hat was also laced with gold. - -"Ladies," he said, advancing with still another bow, "I know not which -is Mistress Bampfyld, but I thank her for her courtesy in receiving -me." Here I indicated that I was that person and that Mary was my -friend, whereon he continued: - -"Therefore, madam, I thank you. As I have told your domestic, I am a -friend of the house of St. Amande, whereon, being on my way to Georgia -on a mission concerning my friend, Mr. James Oglethorpe, member of -Parliament for Haslemere in Surrey, I made bold to ride this way. For, -madam, we have heard in England that it was under your hospitable -roof, or your respected father's, that the Honourable Roderick found -shelter." - -"And have you heard, sir, how he repaid that shelter?" I asked. - -"I have heard nothing, madam, of that, but I trust it was as became a -gentleman." - -"It was as became a villain!" exclaimed Mary. - -"Heavens! madam," said the captain to her, looking most deeply -shocked. "You pain as well as surprise me. As a villain! How we must -all have been deceived in him. As a villain! Tut, tut!" - -"But, sir," I asked, "you speak of him as the Honourable Roderick St. -Amande. Yet the Marquis of Amesbury has written us that he is nothing -of the sort, at present at least." - -"Does he so? Does he, indeed? The Marquis! Ah! a noble gentleman and -of great friendship with Sir Robert Walpole. And on what grounds, -madam, does the Marquis write thus?" - -"On the grounds that Mr. St. Amande's cousin, Gerald, is the present -Viscount St. Amande--and that consequently----" - -"Ha! ha!" he interrupted me, joyfully as it seemed, "so the Marquis -does recognise Gerald! 'Tis well, very well." And here he nodded as -though pleased. "Gerald was ever my favourite. A dear lad!" - -"You knew him, sir?" - -"Knew him, madam!" he exclaimed; "knew him! Why, he was my tenderest -care. I was his governor for some time, and watched over him as though -he had been my son." - -At this moment Mungo brought in the refreshments which in Virginia are -always offered to a caller, and the captain, seeing the various flasks -of wine and the bottles, shook his head somewhat dubiously at them, -saying he never drank till after the noon. Yet, upon persuasion, he -was induced to try a little of the rum, which he pronounced to be -excellent, and, doubtless, much relished by those who could stomach -spirits, which he could rarely do. - -As for Mary and myself we were determined to gather as much -information as we could from this gallant gentleman who knew the St. -Amande family so well (never suspecting, until later, how much he was -gathering from us), so we continued our questions to him, asking him -among others if Lord Gerald, as we termed him, was handsome. - -"He was a most beautiful lad," said the captain, perceiving that our -interests turned more to him than to his wretched cousin, "with -exquisite features like his sweet mother, a much injured lady. But," -changing the subject back again, "what has become of Roderick, for, in -truth, I come more to seek after him than for aught else? His poor -father has had no news of him now for some long time; not since he -first arrived here and wrote home of all that had befallen him." - -This astonished us greatly, for we had always figured to ourselves, -when talking the matter over, that Mr. St. Amande must have somehow -made his way back to Ireland in safety. So we told Captain O'Rourke of -our surprise at his information. - -"When he fled," I said, "he went first to an evil-living old man, our -clergyman, now lying sick unto death from his debaucheries,"--the -captain shook his head mournfully here--"who, however, beyond giving -him a balsamic styptic for his ear would do no more, saying that he -feared my father's wrath too much. Then we learnt afterwards that he -went to the Pringle Manor, where he had become on terms of intimacy -with the young men of the family, but they, on gathering what had -happened, refused also to give him shelter, calling him vile and -ungrateful. So he went forth and has never since been heard of, tho', -indeed, sir, I do trust no ill has befallen him. Bad and wicked as he -was, we would not have him fall into the hands of the Indians, as he -might well have done." - -"The Indians, madam!" exclaimed the captain, while I thought he grew -pale as he spoke. "The Indians! Would that be possible here?" - -"They are ever about," I replied; "sometimes in large bodies, -sometimes creeping through the grass and the woods like snakes. When -they are together they will attack villages and townships, and when -alone, will carry off children or girls--there are many of both, who -have been carried away, living amongst them now, and have themselves -become savages--or they will steal cattle or shoot a solitary man for -his pistol or his sword." - -"Faith," said the captain, "a pleasant part of the world to reside in! -Yet 'tis indeed a noble estate you have here--it reminds me somewhat -of my own in the Wicklow Mountains." - -"But, sir," said Mary, "what are the chances of Lord St. Amande -obtaining his rights, now that the Marquis has declared for him? -Surely his uncle can do nothing against the truth!" - -The captain mused a moment, shaking his head meditatively and as -though pondering sadly on all the wickedness that had been wrought -against that poor youth, and then he said: - -"'Tis hard to tell. I fear me his uncle is a bad man--he has, indeed, -deceived me who trusted and believed in him, for he has over and over -again sworn that Gerald was not his brother's child. And I trusted -him, I say, tho' now I begin to doubt. Yet 'tis ever so in this world. -We who are of an innocent and confiding nature are made the sport of -the unscrupulous and designing." - -"But," I exclaimed, "surely there is law and justice at home, and -upright judges, especially with so good a king as ours on the throne, -tho', under the wicked Stuarts, it might have been different. And the -judges of England and Ireland, with whom you doubtless are well -acquainted, would not let so base a villain as his uncle prevail." - -The captain nodded and said he did indeed know many of the judges of -both countries (we learnt afterwards that he spake perfect truth), yet -he doubted. Their judgments and decisions were not always those which -he thought right nor worthy of approval; but still, with so strong a -champion as the Marquis of Amesbury at his back (who could influence -Sir Robert) he must hope that the young man would come by his own. We -pressed him to stay to dinner, to which he consented and did full -justice to our viands, praising them in a hearty, jolly fashion, and -consenting more readily than before to attempt the wines and spirits. -He also expressed much curiosity as to our convict and bond-servant -labour, taking great interest in the various characters described by -us. Indeed, at one time he testified a desire to walk down and inspect -them and their dwellings, but desisted at last, saying we had given -him such excellent accounts that he felt as if he had seen these -creatures with his own eyes. Of them all, the case of Peter Buck, a -highwayman, seemed to interest him the most, and he asked many -questions about him; as to when he had come out, what his appearance -was, and so forth. But, still, he finally decided not to go down to -the plantation and see him or the others, saying he was bound to join -a company of gentlemen at Albemarle Sound that night if possible, who -had a vessel full of Saltzburghers to be conveyed to Savannah. - -"But," said he with a laugh, "I do trust, ladies, I shall meet with -none of your Indians on my ride. In battle, or with highwaymen, I know -how to comport myself, and so long as my sword is true and my pistols -well primed can hold my own. But with savages I know not what I should -do, unless it were to cut and run." - -So he mounted his horse having first bade his hired guide do the same, -while we told him that his road ran too far south-east towards the -coast for him to encounter any savages; and then, having paid -courteous farewells to Mary and me, and having tossed an English gold -coin to Mungo, he saluted us once more most gracefully and rode away. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -ANOTHER VISITOR - - -Now, when Mr. Kinchella had been brought from England by Mr. -Cliborne--his maintenance--to be supplied amongst us--being fifteen -thousand pounds of tobacco annually and the frame-house built for the -minister--it was not long ere we learnt the true history of Captain -O'Rourke. Nay, it was so soon as we began to speak of the St. Amande -family, and Mr. Kinchella could not but laugh softly when we related -to him the conversation we had had with our visitor. - -"The rogue! The adventurer!" he exclaimed. "And acquainted with the -judges, too. I' faith, he is. With everyone in the land, I should -warrant. Yet, naturally, he might say what he would here; tell his own -tale, chaunt his own song. How was he to suppose any poor student of -Trinity should ever wander to Virginia who knew his history?" - -Then after a little further talk he fell meditating aloud again, -saying: - -"He may be in truth in the service of Mr. Oglethorpe--a gallant -gentleman who served under Prince Eugene, and is, they say, -recommended for a Generalship--yet how can he have obtained such -service? He has been highwayman, if all told of him is true--perhaps, -for that reason he wished not to encounter Mr. Peter Buck--guinea -dropper and kidnapper--as with Gerald. Nay, Heaven only knows what he -has not been, to say nothing of 'political agent' on both sides. Well. -Well. Let us hope he has turned honest at last. Let us hope so." - -That an intimacy should spring up between us and Mr. Kinchella was not -to be wondered at, nor, indeed, that he also became popular among many -other families in the counties before mentioned. For, independently of -his own merits, the case of Mr. Roderick St. Amande and our charity -and friendliness to him, as well as his base repayment of them, had -made much talk in all the country round, not only with the gentry but -among others. Even the convicts, we knew, talked about it, as did the -bond-servants; and Christian Lamb, my maid, told me that her brother -had often seen the late lord who died in such poverty ruffling it in -London, where he was well known in gay circles. Indeed, Mr. Kinchella -became mightily liked everywhere and was always welcome at the houses -of his flock. For, besides his gifts of writing-verses and playing the -fiddle and singing agreeably--which, simple accomplishments as they -were, proved mighty acceptable in a community like ours, where we -found the winter evenings long, and the summer ones, too, for the -matter of that--besides all these, I say, and far above them, was his -real goodness as well as sound piety. His sermons were easy and -flowing, suitable alike to the educated and the simple; he expounded -the Word most truthfully, and he never failed to exhort us to remember -that we were Christian English folk, although in a new land, and that -we owed it as a duty to our ancestors to remain such and to be a -credit to the country which had sent us forth. Thus he struck a note -that found an echo in all our hearts, since nothing was felt more -strongly in Virginia than the sense of loyalty to our old home and -home-government. 'Tis true that, in other states farther north, there -were to be found those who talked wildly, and as though their minds -must be distraught, of forming what they termed an American Union -which should cast off the rule of our mother country; but their words -were as idle breath and not to be regarded nor considered seriously. -King George II. was firmly seated on his throne--as anyone might see -who read the beautiful odes and other things written by Mr. Cibber, -which were printed in the London news-journals, and, so, occasionally -reached us--and all Virginians who went to and fro betwixt here and -London spake highly of that great monarch, and of how he received the -colonists graciously and spoke them fair. - -For the ruse which had been played on Roderick St. Amande and his -father, whereby the young lord had been saved from kidnapping and his -miserable cousin sent in his place, there was little condemnation, but -rather approval amongst our friends and neighbours; and, had it been -possible for Mr. Quin to find his way amongst us, it would have been -easy for him to establish himself comfortably in our colony. - -"Although," said Mr. Kinchella, "that it was a wrong thing to do -nobody can deny; yet, when Gerald came and told me of it, I could not -find it in my heart to chide him or his friend, Quin, and so I let him -go without a word of reproof. Yet now he is gone, too, and I know not -where he may be. Sir Chaloner Ogle has the reputation of a fighting -sailor, and, once his flag is hoisted at the main topmast-head, he may -take his fleet around the world in search of adventure, and poor -Gerald with it." - -And now have I arrived at the year 1732, when I was twenty-three years -of age--the year which was to be, perhaps, the most important in my -life, and after which, when I have related all that occurred in it, I -shall have but little more to tell. - -In the early months of that year nothing happened worthy of record, -except that our mastiffs were found poisoned in February in their -kennels, as well as were those of Mr. Cliborne. This led us to fear -the Indians might be meditating an attack on us, since they dreaded -these animals more than anything else, and would, by hook or crook, -invariably get them destroyed if possible before making a raid. Their -method was for one of them to creep into the settlements and approach -the kennels, when the poison could be easily cast in on some tempting -pieces of meat. Then, the time of year when the nights were dark and -long was that generally selected, as leaving them less open to -observation. On such nights as these all the colonists would be -huddled round their respective hearths, the convicts and bond-servants -having great fires made for them in their outhouses, and the negroes -still greater ones in their quarters. Amongst the gentry, too, the -cold was also combated as best might be; huge wood fires blazed in -every room, while, in the saloons, to add to the warmth and induce -forgetfulness of the winter, games of all descriptions, as well as -dances, would be indulged in. The Virginia reel shared with "Wooing a -Widow," "Grind the Bottle," and "Brother, I am bobbed," the task of -passing the long evenings, and those evenings were generally brought -to a conclusion by hearty suppers, and, for the gentlemen, plentiful -libations of brandy, rum from the West Indies, old Mountain wine -imported from England, to which place it was sent from Malaga, -tobacco, and so on. While such jollities as these prevailed indoors an -Indian might easily creep about the plantations, survey the houses -from the outside, and destroy or steal the live-stock. - -The poisoning of our hounds led, however, to no further trouble at the -time, and so the winter slipt away, and, at last, we burst into the -glorious Virginian spring, a season when all Nature awakes and breaks -into golden luxuriance. Then the pines begin to put on their fresh -green cones and the gum-trees their leaves, the flowers spring forth -as though born in a night, the creepers clothe themselves in tender -green, and all the woods become gay with the songs of birds--the -golden oriole, the mock-bird, and the whip-poor-will. And over and -around all is the balmy warmth of a southern spring, the brightness of -a southern sun, and the clear, blue atmosphere of a southern sky. - -It was on such a day as this, in the afternoon, that I going down to -see if my roses, which grew on that side of the lawn by which the road -passed, were budding, observed a gentleman ride up the road, and, -dismounting from his horse, take off his hat and advance to me. - -"Madam," he said, "I think, from what I gathered in your village, that -I am not mistaken. This is Pomfret Manor, is it not?" - -This young gentleman--for I guessed he was but little older -than I--was so handsome and bewitching to look upon, that, as I -answered him, I could but gaze at him. His face, from which shone -forth two eyes that to my foolish fancy seemed like stars, was oval, -and his complexion, though much browned, very clear, while his other -features were most shapely. He wore no wig--which seemed strange to a -Virginian, where the wig is considered the certain mark, or necessary -accompaniment, of a gentleman--yet he did well not to do so, for, -besides considering the warmth of the day, his hair was most beautiful -to see, since it hung down in dark brown curls to his shoulders where -it reposed in a great mass. His apparel was plain, being a dark green -riding-suit trimmed with silver lace, and he wore riding-boots of a -handsome shape, while by his side he carried a small sword. - -"It is Pomfret Manor, sir," I replied, noticing all these things. "May -I ask what is your will?" - -"I come, madam," he said, "first with the desire to renew a friendship -with one for whom I cherish the warmest recollections; ay! for one who -was my friend when I had scarce another, or only one other, in the -world; and secondly, to pay my respects to Mr. Nicholas Bampfyld, to -whom my family owe a debt." - -"Sir," I said, "whatever your debt may be to Mr. Bampfyld it can never -be paid now. My father has been dead these three years." - -He looked surprised, and then said, "Dead! Madam, I grieve to hear it. -I had hoped to see him. And Mr. Kinchella, the friend I seek, he, I -hope and trust, is well." - -"He is very well," I answered, "and is now in my house with my friend, -Miss Mills, to whom he is under engagement to be shortly married." - -"To be married," he said, with a smile, tho' a grave one; "to be -married! This is indeed good news. He should make a worthy husband if -ever man did." - -As he had been speaking there had come across my mind a sudden -thought--a wonderment! And--why, I have never known even to this -day!--I fell a-trembling at that wonderment as to whom he should be. -Was he, I asked myself,--he--was he----? - -"Sir," I said, "you shall be brought to Mr. Kinchella. What name shall -be announced to him?" - -"I am called Lord St. Amande," he said quietly, while it seemed to me -that he sighed as he spake. - -"Called Lord St. Amande," I repeated in my surprise. "Lord Gerald St. -Amande." - -Once again he smiled, saying, "Not Lord Gerald St. Amande, though my -name is Gerald. But I perceive Mr. Kinchella has been talking to you -about me. Perhaps telling you my history. Well!" to himself, "heaven -knows it has been common talk enough." - -I think--looking back as I do now to those far-off years and to that -happy, sunny day when first he came among us--that, in my heart, there -was some little disappointment at seeing him whom we had pitied so -looking thus prosperous. For although we knew that his great relative, -the Marquis, had espoused his cause and taken him by the hand, it was -ever as the poor outcast youth that we had thought of him. Yes, as an -outcast roaming the streets of Dublin, or as a poor wandering sailor -tossed on stormy seas, our hearts had gone out to him--and now, to see -him standing before me, bravely apparelled and looking, indeed, as I -thought, an English lord should look (for I had never before seen -one), caused me, as I say, a disappointment. It may be that it did so -because it seemed as though our pity was not needed. But, even as this -passed through my mind, I reflected that it was no true Virginian -hospitality to let him stand there holding his horse's bridle and -waiting to see what welcome he might expect, so, calling to the negro -gardener who was busy amongst the vines to take his steed, I bade him -follow me. As we went to the great steps of the porch I laughed with -joy at thinking what a pleasant surprise this would be for his friend, -and felt glad, I knew not why, that it had fallen to my lot to be the -first to see him and to bring those two together; therefore I said to -him: - -"I will not have you announced, but, if it pleases you, will bring you -straight into the saloon. It will be good to see Mr. Kinchella's -pleasure when you stand before him. It was but recently he wondered if -he should ever see you again, and now you are here close to him." - -"Do with me as you will," he said, "and I thank you for doing so -much." - -So we went up the steps together, when, drawing him behind the blue -tatula bush that was now coming into flower with the warm spring, I -bade him look within and he should see his friend. Seated by the -harpsichord he saw him, his sweetheart sitting by his side, and he -looking brave and happy, and dressed in his black silk coat and scarf. - -"I should scarce have known him," whispered my lord, "he has changed -so. His pallor is gone--it may be love has made him rosy--and he is -fuller and plumper. It seems a crying shame to disturb him when he has -so sweet a companion." - -I laughed and said, "You will be easily absolved. To see you again is -always his most earnest desire, while, for Mary, you are a hero of -romance of whom she dreams often." - -He looked at me from behind the bush, so that I thought he was -wondering if it was to Mary alone such dreams came; and then, saying: - -"Madam, I fear I shall be made vain here," he begged me to permit him -to enter and greet his friend. - -That greeting it was good to see. Mr. Kinchella gazed for a moment at -the stranger entering so abruptly and then, springing to his feet, -exclaimed, "Gerald! Gerald!" and folded him in his arms, while Mary, -who had also risen hastily, repeated him, crying, "'Gerald!' Is this -indeed Lord St. Amande?" - -"Dear lad, dear heart!" said Mr. Kinchella, who, after his embrace, -held the other at arm's length so as to survey him. "It is indeed you! -And how you are grown; a man and a handsome one. But how you came here -passes my understanding. Yet how I rejoice. How I do rejoice. Oh! -Gerald! Gerald! this is a day of days." Then he went on, "Mistress -Bampfyld, I see already you know; this other lady is my future wife, -Miss Mills," whereon his lordship bowed with most stately grace while -Mary curtsied low. - -"But tell me, tell us," continued her lover, "what brings you here. We -knew not, I knew not where you were. The last heard of you was that -you had been impressed for the sea and had sailed under Sir Chaloner -Ogle, who had testified a kindly disposition to you. But to what part -of the world you had sailed, we did not know. Papers reach here but -fitfully, and, though a friend of mine does sometimes send me _The -London Journal_, owned by that sturdy writer, Mr. Osborne, I have seen -nothing that told me of your fleet." - -"'Tis not so far off now," said his lordship, with his grave smile, "I -being at the moment on leave from it. I have adopted the calling of a -sailor--what use to haunt the streets of London idly waiting until the -House of Lords shall do me justice, if ever?"---there was a bitterness -in his tone as he spake that we all well understood--"and I am now -master's-mate in the _Namur_, with promise of a lieutenancy from Sir -Chaloner. As for the fleet itself, a portion of it is at Halifax and a -portion off Boston, while the _Namur_ is at the mouth of the James -River waiting to capture some of the pirates that still haunt the -spot." - -"You have a long leave, I hope, Lord St. Amande," I said, though I -knew that I blushed, as I did so. "You must not quit Mr. Kinchella for -some time, and, in Virginia, we love to show hospitality to our -friends or friends' friends." - -He bowed graciously to me and told me he was entitled to many days' -leave of absence, since he had had none in their long cruise, except -now and then a day or so ashore; and then Mary, whose vivacity I -always envied, asked him why the House of Lords behaved so ill to him -and did not put him in possession of his rights. - -"For," said she, "it would be the most idle affectation to pretend -that here, far away as we are from England, we do not take the deepest -interest in your affairs. Virginia has, and this portion of it -particularly, been so much mixed up with your family and so interested -in it by the fact of your friend, Mr. Kinchella, coming here, that it -seems as though we, too, had some concern in those affairs." - -"The House of Lords in Ireland has done me justice," he replied, "as I -learnt but recently, since they had pronounced me to be what in very -truth I am, my father's son. In England the House will not yet, -however, decide that I am heir to the Marquis of Amesbury--though he -hesitates not to acknowledge me--and it may not do so for years. Yet -even my present title is disputed by my villainous uncle, Robert, who -now has another son by his second wife, whom he proclaims as heir. -For," addressing us all, "that the wretch, Roderick, is dead there can -be, I imagine, no doubt; and his father amongst others believes so." - -"'Tis thought so," we answered, while Mr. Kinchella added that many -enquiries had been made for, him, not only in Virginia but in other -colonies, and no word could be heard of him. "So that," he continued, -"there can be no further thought but that he is dead." - -"Even so," said my lord, "'twere best. For a wretch such as he death -alone is fitting. And, madam, from the Marquis I have heard by letter -of all the villainies he committed here, and, as one of his blood and -race, I now tender you my apologies for his sins and wickedness." - -"Oh, sir," I cried out with emotion, "I pray you do not so. He is gone -and I have forgotten him; since he must surely be dead I have also -forgiven him. I beg of you not to sully your fair fame by associating -your name with his, nor your honour by deeming yourself accountable -for his misdeeds." - -Whereon, as I spake, his lordship, taking my hand in his, raised it to -his lips and said he thanked me for my gracious goodness. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE RED MAN - - -"How easily," said Lord St. Amande to me one summer night, two months -later, as we sat upon the porch outside the saloon, "how easily may -one be inspired with the gift of prophecy! Who, looking in at those -two and knowing their characters, could not predict their future?" - -He spake of Mr. Kinchella and Mary who were within, she sitting at the -spinet while he, bending over her, was humming the air of a song he -had lately written preparatory to her singing it. - -"One can see," went on my lord, "all that that future shall be. They -have told their love to one another, soon that love will blossom into -marriage, even as I have seen your daturas and your roses blossom -forth since first I came amongst you--that marriage will bring -happiness of days and years to them, in which in honour and peaceful -joys they will go on until life's close. Happy, happy pair--happy -Kinchella to love and be beloved, to love and dare to tell his love." - -And my lord sighed as he spoke. - -"All men may tell their love, surely," I said. "Why should they not?" - -"All men may not tell their love, Mistress Joice," he replied; "all -men may not ask for love in return. Over some men's lives there is so -deep a shadow that it precludes them from asking any woman to share -their lot--sometimes it is best that those men go through life alone, -unloved and with no other's lot bound up with theirs. But, hark, she -is going to sing that song he wrote for her." - -Through the warm air Mary's voice arose as he stood by her; through -the quiet of the night when nought was heard but the distant barking -of the dogs, which were strangely restless this evening, and nought -seen but the fireflies, she sang his little song: - - - "If we should part--some day of days - We might stand face to face again, - And, dear, my eyes I scarce could raise - To yours without a bitter pain. - For memory then must backward turn - To all the love that went before, - While thoughts our hearts would sear and burn - Making our meeting still more sore. - So shall we part? Ah. No, Love, no. - Or shall we stay and still be true, - Shall one remain--the other go, - Or shall I still rest close to you? - - "If we should part--could I rejoice - If by some chance I saw your face? - Or if you, too, should hear my voice - Cold and without one plea for grace. - Such as in days agone I sought - Craving one whispered word from you; - Would not your heart with grief be fraught - Recalling all the love we slew. - So shall we part? Ah. No, Love, no. - Or shall we stay and still be true, - Shall one remain--the other go, - Or shall I still rest close to you? - - "Ah! best it is we never part, - Better by far that we keep true, - Clasp hand to hand, bind heart to heart, - As in the past we used to do. - So murmur, sweet, the words once more, - Breathe them to me again, again, - Whisper you love me as before, - Proclaim Love's victory over pain. - And we'll not part. Ah. No, Love, no. - 'Tis best to stay for ever true. - Since you remain, I cannot go, - But ever must rest close to you." - - -Her voice ceased and we could see her fond face turned up to his and -observe the look of love in her dark eyes. And my lord, sitting in the -deep chair which had been my father's in other days, murmured to -himself, "'If we should part! If we should part!' Ah, well! they need -never part. Never, never." - -I know not why, that evening, all our thoughts and talk had been upon -that silly theme, Love. It had begun at supper--which, in Virginia, we -generally took at seven in the evening--and had been continued -afterwards in the garden and on the porch, and came, I think, from the -fact that Lord St. Amande and Mr. Kinchella had that day been to see a -ship which had come from England laden with furniture. His lordship -lived with Mr. Kinchella in his minister's house in the village, and, -although he generally spent his days with many of the other gentry -dwelling around, amongst whom he was very welcome, he could sometimes -induce his friend to give up one day to him when they would go off -together for rides and walks, as they had done on this occasion when -they had ridden to Norfolk. Their evenings they spent almost -invariably at Pomfret Manor, as they were doing on this night. But, as -I say, at supper this evening there had been much talk of what Mr. -Kinchella had purchased from the trader for beautifying his house, -such as a beautiful Smyrna carpet, some tapestry hangings, chimney -glasses and sconces, a stone-grate and some walnut-tree chairs and -East Indian screens, all of which were to be shown to us when they -arrived by the waggon and were placed in his home. For their -marriage-day was drawing near now, and was, indeed, settled for the -beginning of September. - -"So that," said his lordship, "when that time arrives, Mistress -Joice," as he had come to call me, "must be left all alone in her -great house." - -"'Tis her own fault," exclaimed Mary; "many are the excellent offers -she has had, yet she will take none. Her cousin Gregory has over and -over again told her she should wed with him, their interests being -similar and their estates adjoining, and two of the Pringles have -asked her for wife. But, although in Virginia a maiden who is not -married by twenty is deemed to have passed her day, she will not look -at them. Oh! 'tis a shame. A Shame." - -I had blushed at all this and reproved Mary for telling my lord my -secrets; but now, on the porch, he referred to the subject again and -asked why none of these gentlemen found favour in my eyes. "Only," I -replied, "because in my heart there is no love for them. Surely no -girl should wed with one she cannot love?" - -"'Tis true," he answered, gravely, as he always spake; "'tis true. And -the day will come when you will love someone. It must needs come." - -Alas! I wonder that he did not know that already it had come. I should -have thought, indeed, did often think, that I had betrayed myself and -shown him that the love he spoke of had grown up in my heart for him. -He must have seen that which I could not hide, try as I would; my -eager looking for his coming in those soft summer evenings, my great -joy in his company, my sympathy with him in all that he had known and -suffered, and my tell-tale blushes whenever his eyes fell on me. Yet -if he knew he gave no sign of knowing, and, although he ever sought my -side and passed the hours with me, as those others passed theirs -together, he said no word. - -But now, as we sat there on the porch silent though, sometimes, our -eyes would meet in the glow of the lamp from within, there fell upon -the silence of the night the clatter of a horse's hoofs up the road, -of a horse coming on at a great pace as though ridden by one who -spurred it to its best efforts and sought its greater speed. - -"Who can ride here at such a pace to-night?" I said, as still the -clatter drew nearer and we heard the horse turn off from the road into -our plantations, and so into the stables at the back, while a moment -later a voice was heard demanding to see Mistress Bampfyld. - -"That voice!" exclaimed Lord St. Amande, springing from his chair and -reaching for his sword, which stood in a corner of the balcony. "That -voice! Though I have not heard it for years I should know it in a -thousand. 'Tis the villain, O'Rourke. Heaven hath delivered him into -my hands at last. Now will I have a full revenge on him." - -"Oh sir," I said, as he drew his blade, "Oh! sir, oh! my lord, take no -revenge on him here, I beseech you. Stain not this house with his -blood. No life has ever yet been taken in it since it was brought -over. And, oh! remember, he came here before and was well received and -hospitably treated--he cannot know that you should also have found -your way here--he may well expect to receive the same treatment, the -same hospitality again." - -"It must be as you command in your house," my lord replied, "yet he -shall not escape me, and, when he leaves this place, his punishment -shall be well assured." Then he called softly to Kinchella, and, in a -few hurried words, told him of who was without. But, ere the latter -could express his astonishment--as, indeed, it was astonishing that -these three should now be come together!--we heard O'Rourke's voice -exclaiming: - -"Lead me to her at once, I say. There is no moment to be lost. They -may be here at any moment of the night. I have seen them, nay, barely -escaped from them; they are on their way--hundreds of them." - -"Great God!" exclaimed Mary, who had now come forth with her lover and -heard his words, "'tis the Indians he speaks of. It can be no others." - -"Indeed it must be," I answered. "Heaven grant that the village is -well prepared. For ourselves we must take immediate steps. We must -apprise the overseers below and bid them arm the servants and -convicts--they will fight for us against the Indians, hate us though -they may." - -"First," said my lord, who was very cool, "let us hear the ruffian -himself, the gallant 'captain.' But, since our presence might somewhat -disturb his narrative, let him not see us yet, Kinchella," and as he -spake he drew his friend back behind the shutters of the windows while -we two went into the saloon. - -And now the adventurer came into the apartment once again, though not -as he had come before, his manner being very flustered and uneasy, his -face covered with perspiration from hard riding on a summer night, and -with his wig gone. While, without stopping for any salutation he, on -seeing me, began at once: - -"Madam, I have ridden hot haste to apprise you of a terrible fact -which has come to my knowledge, and to offer you, if you will have -them, my services. The Indians are out, madam; they are coming this -way; I have seen them. Heavens and earth! 'twas an awful sight to -observe the painted devils creeping through the woods, ay! and a thing -to freeze one's blood, even on such a night as this, to hear them yell -as they saw me. But, fortunately, they are not mounted, and thus I -out-distanced their arrows and musket balls which they sent after me. -And therefore am I here to warn you, and, since I know you have no men -about but your bond-servants and negroes, to help you if I may." - -"You mistake, sir," said his lordship, quietly, coming forward into -the room with his drawn sword glistening in his hand, while behind him -stepped Mr. Kinchella. "You mistake, sir. There are others besides -yourself." - -If a spectre had arisen before O'Rourke I know not if it could have -produced a more terrifying effect on him. For a moment he gazed at his -lordship, his lips parted and one hand raised to shield his eyes, as -though that way they might see clearer, while on his face there came -fresh drops of perspiration. And then he muttered hoarsely: - -"Gerald St. Amande! Gerald here! Here! Here in Virginia!" - -"Ay," said my lord, confronting him and with the point of his sword -lowered to the ground. "Ay! Gerald St. Amande, none other. You -execrable villain, we stand face to face at last as man to man, not -man to boy as it once was. And what villainy are you upon now in this -land? Answer me ere I slay you, as I intend to do ere long." - -For reply the other said: - -"'Tis so. We stand face to face at last. And the hour is yours. Your -sword is drawn, mine is in its sheath, my pistols are unloaded since I -fired them at the savages who pursued me. So be it. As well die by the -hand of him I injured as by the torture or the weapons of those -howling wolves who are on their way here----" - -He paused a moment and then, loosening the cross-belt or scarf in -which were two great pistols, he flung it and them at his lordship's -feet, while at the same time he opened his waistcoat and tore aside -his muslin ruffles. - -"Now, Gerald St. Amande," he said, "as we stand face to face--'tis -your own word--do your worst. If I have been a villain I am at least -no coward. Do your worst." - -'Twas indeed a strange scene--a fitting prelude to others still more -strange that were to follow. This man, this robber--who when he first -came among us we had deemed a courtly gentleman--stood there, tall and -erect, with no muscle quivering, nay, almost with a look of scorn upon -his face. In front of him, his sword still lowered, stood the other -whom he invited to be his executioner, his eyes no longer flashing -fire but dwelling upon his old enemy as though in wonder. Behind were -Mary and myself trembling with apprehension and Mr. Kinchella -whispering to his friend, "Gerald, forbear, forbear. Remember, -vengeance is to the Lord. He will repay." - -Though I felt no fear--since he had given me his promise--that his -lordship would do justice upon O'Rourke now, I also took heart to -whisper to him, "Is he beyond forgiveness, or at least so bad that he -may not go in peace?" - -But then Lord St. Amande spoke, saying: "That I should slay you now is -impossible. In this house your life is sacred--at her prayer," and he -pointed to me. "And, Since you are so bold a man, why such a villain? -O'Rourke, seeing you as you are to-night I do believe you might have -been worthy of better things. What had I, a helpless child, ever done -to you that you should have sought my death as you did?" - -"You had done nothing," the other replied, still standing in the same -position as when he last spoke, "but your father was always my enemy, -while your uncle was my friend. And I wanted money--when was there -ever the time I did not want it until now, when I have taken honest -service under Mr. Oglethorpe!--money for my sick daughter who is now -dead so that I care not if I die too. Your uncle gave it to me largely -to remove you." - -"You swear that? If we should both live to reach England again would -you swear that?" - -"Both of us will never reach England again. I have said farewell to -that country and to the old world for ever. Yet--yet--if it might be -so done that I could keep my credit in Georgia and with my employers, -if I might end my days there under the garb of an honest man, I could -tell much that would help you to your rights." - -"In return for your life being spared?" his lordship asked. - -"No. I have not asked you to spare my life. Not in return for that, -but as some mitigation of my past. But, come, we trifle time," and he -picked up his cross-belt, and, adjusting it, drew forth his pistols -and primed and loaded them. "You have had your opportunity of slaying -me--that opportunity is past. Henceforth, except for the wrong I did -you, we are equal. Now, madam," he said, turning to me, "I am at your -disposal and ready to help you defend your house should it be -surrounded. You received me as a gentleman when I first came to -you";--he put a bitter emphasis on the word "gentleman";--"as a -gentleman I will do my best to repay your courtesy." - -"If you are a villain you are a bold one," said Lord St. Amande. "Ill -luck take you for not being a better man." - -"It would be best," said O'Rourke to me, ignoring his lordship, "to go -call up the convicts, I think. There is one down there who, if he has -not forgotten me--the man Peter Buck of whom you spoke once--will -stand side by side with me whatever may happen. I knew him well in the -past. And then, madam, the windows should be shuttered----" - -"By your leave, sir," Lord St. Amande exclaimed now, "I purpose to -undertake the defence of this house for----" - -But, ere he could finish his speech, from Mary there came the most -agonising scream while, with her eyes almost starting from her head -she shrunk back to Mr. Kinchella, and, pointing with her hand to the -lower part of the window, she shrieked, "Look! Look!" - -And following the direction she indicated we saw the cause of her -horror. For there, its almond-shaped eyelids half closed, though still -enough open to show the glittering eyes within, its face hideously -painted with white and red streaks, and its hair twisted into a knot -on the top of its head, we saw the form of a savage crouched down on -the porch and peering into the saloon. - -In a moment O'Rourke had seen it, too, as she screamed and pointed, -for, an instant later, there rang through the room the report of one -of the pistols he had loaded, and, when the smoke cleared away, we saw -the savage writhing on the porch while from his head gushed a great -stream of blood. - -"A fair hit," called out O'Rourke. "A fair hit. Od's bobs, my right -hand has not forgot its cunning after all." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -BESIEGED - - -Three hours later our house, barricaded in every way possible, was in -a state of siege and around it lay a band of Shawnee and Doeg Indians, -some hundreds strong. - -Nay, more, we knew from various signs that the whole village, or -hamlet, of Pomfret was in the same condition, and that, indeed, the -surrounding locality was attacked by the savages. From the church -below our plantations there came at intervals of a few moments a -flash, succeeded by a dull booming, which told us that the cannon that -had stood on its tower for many years was being fired, and thereby put -at last to the use for which it had been originally placed there. The -ping of bullets from flint-locks, and muskets, and fuzees, as well as -the more dead, hard sounds of musquetoons, were continuous also; the -yells of the Indians rose sometimes high above the cheers of the white -folks, and, to add to all, from every manor around was heard the -ringing of the great bells in their cupolas, while the burning of -beacons was to be seen. In our house we had taken every precaution -that time would allow us, and, to all the ideas which our ancestors in -the colonies had conceived for defending their homes and families -against attack, we had added some more modern ones. Thus the ancient -device of laying down on the lawns and paddock--across which the -Indians must pass when they left the plantations and copses in which, -at present, they remained--old doors with long nails thrust through -them was carried out, in the hopes of maiming some of our aggressors. -Broken glass was also plentifully strewn about, while, indoors, water -was being boiled and kept to boiling heat, so as to be ready to empty -on them if they approached us. Then, too, we had rapidly erected -stockades and palisadoes which must check any onward rush; the -mastiffs which had replaced those poor beasts that had been poisoned -were brought up to the house by the bondsmen, whose duty it was to -attend to them. The convicts and bondsmen themselves were now all -aroused, and every door, shutter, and window was fast closed, so that -the heat inside on this July night was scarcely to be endured. - -It was inside the house that the greatest resistance--which, if it -came to that, must be the last--would have to be made; and the saloon, -as being the biggest apartment in the manor, as well as because it had -windows looking on to both the back and the front of the house, was -selected as our principal point of defence; and here we four--Lord St. -Amande, Mr. Kinchella, Mary and myself--were assembled. Upstairs, in -every room, were told off certain of the white servants, most of the -blacks having hidden in the cellars where they shrieked and howled -dreadfully; so that, if the enemy did force an entrance, they must -undoubtedly soon be discovered; while the rest had run away. Of these -white servants, Buck, the man who had been a highwayman, had command, -with, under him, Lamb, the brother of my maid. And certainly, judging -from the sounds we heard above, these men seemed to have thrown -themselves into work of this nature with far more ardour than they -ever did into their duties in the fields, for we could hear them -laughing and talking, and even singing at such a dreadful time as -this. "Ha, ha," we heard Buck roar. - -"Ha, ha! This is indeed work fit for a gentleman to do; as good, i' -faith, as a canter across Bagshot or Hounslow Heath, with the coach -coming up well laden. Look now, look, Lamb, lad; look. Do'st see that -red devil crawling up from out the plantation; at him, aim low and -steady. So-so, wait till he cometh into the moonlight. Ha! now, -steady, let go." Then there was a ping heard, a yell from outside, and -next, above that, the voice of Buck again. "Fair! Fairly hit. Look how -he kicks. So did I once shoot one of the Bow Street catchers who -thought to take me at Fulham. Load, lad, load, though the next shot is -mine," whereon the desperado fell to singing: - - - Oh, three jolly rogues, three jolly rogues, - Three jolly rogues are we - As ever did swing in a hempen string - Under the gallow's tree. - - -In the saloon where we were, we had laid out upon a table the arms and -ammunition we were using, or might have to use. My lord had no pistol -with him since he carried always his sword, but Mr. Kinchella -possessed one as, since the practice of carrying arm's had long since -become universal in the colonies, not even clergymen went now without -them--the Indians being no respecters of persons. Then there were my -pistol and Mary's, which Gregory and my father had taught us to use -and grow accustomed to, so that we could shoot a pear hanging on a -tree--though now our tremblings and excitement were so great that -'twas doubtful if we could hit a man's body; and, for the rest, we had -gathered together all the firearms in the house. To wit, there were my -father's birding pieces as well as muskets for large balls, several -blunderbusses and musquetoons, and some brass horse-pistols. Yet, as -we asked each other, of what avail would these or, indeed, any defence -be which we could make if once the Indians advanced to our doors in -large numbers. - -Outside--the place he had selected, leaving Lord St. Amande and Mr. -Kinchella to be our immediate bodyguard--was O'Rourke in command of -the overseers (who supposed him to be either a friend of the family or -of one of the two gentlemen) and of some of the other bondsmen, and he -was indefatigable in his exertions. He and they kept up a continual -fire on the foe from their positions behind trees or under the porch, -or from the stables in the rear, while, horrible to relate, as each -shot was seen to be successful it was greeted by oaths of delight and -dreadful cries; and, besides their shooting, they had also laid mines -of gunpowder which would be exploded when the Indians advanced. -Indeed, as Lord St. Amande remarked as he noticed this through the -light-holes of the shutters, or went out himself to assist the others -from time to time, whatever O'Rourke's past villainies had been he was -this night going far towards effacing them. - -"The fellow," he said, coming back to us after one of these visits -outside, when I nearly fainted at seeing blood trickling down his -forehead--he having been grazed by a bullet--"the fellow spoke truly -when he said he was no coward at least. He exposes his burly body -everywhere fearlessly, though these savages have learned to use their -weapons with marvellous precision and scarcely miss a shot. But just -now he caught one of them creeping through the grass to get nearer us, -and, wrenching his tomahawk from him, beat out his brains." - -Meanwhile the night grew late, and I, who had heard so many stories of -how the Indians pursued their attack, though, heaven be praised, this -was the first experience I had ever had of so dreadful a thing, knew -very well that, if they meant to besiege the house itself, the time -must now be drawing nigh. At this period of the year it was full -daylight by four o'clock, when, if they were not first driven off and -routed, the Indians would withdraw into the woods, and there -sheltering themselves renew their attack at nightfall. But as to -driving them off, it was, we deemed, not to be hope for. Outside -assistance we could not expect. The booming of the church-roof cannon -that still went on, the ringing of bells from neighbouring plantations -with--worst of all! the lurid light in the sky that told of some other -manor, or perhaps village, in flames, forbade us to think that. So we -had none to depend on but ourselves--a handful of brave men and a -number of almost useless, timorous women. And thus, knowing what must -come, we waited for the worst. - -"Promise me," I whispered to my lord at this moment, "promise me that, -as the first Indian crosses the threshold and if all hope is gone, you -will never leave me, or that, if you must do so, you will slay me -first. To fall into their hands would be more bitter than death or the -grave itself." And unwittingly, for I was sore distraught, I laid my -hand upon his arm and gazed up into his eyes. - -His eyes, glancing down, met mine as he said, "Joice, my dear, I shall -never leave you now. Oh! sweetheart, in this hour of peril I may tell -you what I might never have told you else, being smirched and -blemished from my birth as I am. My dear, my sweet, I do love you so -that never will I leave you if it rests with me, and if you die then -will I die too." - -After which, drawing me to him, he folded me in his arms and kissed me -again and again, and stroked my hair and whispered, "My pretty Joice, -I have loved you always; aye, from the very first time when I saw your -golden head bending over your flowers in the garden." - -Thus in this black hour our love was told, and he whom I have called -"my lord" was so in very truth. Yet how dreadful was it to reflect, -how dreadful now to look back upon even after long years, that this -love, which surely should have been whispered in some soft tranquil -hour, was told amid such surroundings. Outside was a host of savages -thirsting for our blood, and, in the case of the women, worse than -their blood; while our defenders, with but two exceptions, were all -men who had been malefactors punished by their country's laws. Yet it -cannot but be acknowledged that these men, sinners as they had been, -were as brave as lions in our cause, and, had they been the greatest -Christian heroes that ever lived, could not have striven more manfully -against great odds. From Peter Buck upstairs still came the roars of -encouragement to those whom he commanded, mixed with his ribald and -profane snatches of verse, while, without, O'Rourke's voice was heard -also encouraging and animating those who fought by his side. As for my -lover, not even our new pledged vows could keep him by me; ever and -again he plunged forth into the night, coming back sometimes with his -sword dripping with blood, sometimes with a smoking pistol with which -he had gone forth in his hand, and once bearing in his hand--oh! -horror of horrors!--an Indian's head-band made of human fingers and -toes, which he had wrenched away from a savage he had slain. As for -Mr. Kinchella, never have I seen mortal man look more calm or more -firm than he, as, sometimes supporting Mary with loving words, -sometimes with kisses, he bade her trust in God that all might yet be -well. - -So we waited for the end that was to come. - -"Bravo! bravo!" roared Buck from upstairs, evidently in praise of some -shot that had just been fired. "Bravo, our battalion! Faith! if our -lily mistress gives us not our freedom after this she's not the lass I -take her for. Stop those women squealing in there," he continued, -calling into another room where some of the white servant-women were -huddled together; "one would think the devil or the Indians were -amongst them already, or that the former had got them before their -time. And Lamb, my lad, go down and ask the gentlefolks for some drink -for us; 'tis as hot as Tyburn on a bright summer morning, and my -thirst as great as that of any gallant gentleman riding there in the -cart." - -Lamb came down a moment afterwards, a smart, bright-looking young -man--though now begrimed with much burnt powder--and was sent back -with a great jar of rum and water, while, ere he went, I whispered to -him: - -"Tell Buck that I have heard his words about your freedom, and that -'tis granted. From to-night all who have defended my house are free, -and shall have their note of discharge and can remain and work for me -for a wage, or go where they list." - -"Thank you, lady," said the young man. "I'll tell him," with which he -darted out and up the stairs with the drink, and a moment afterwards -we heard Buck crying for a cheer for Mistress Joice. - -But now I heard my lord's voice call out, "Stand by to fire the train. -Wait; don't hurry. Stop until they pass the palisadoes. See, now. -Now!" - -Then, as there came a fearful glare from outside, accompanied by a -dull concussion or noise like the roaring of flames up a great -chimney, and by horrid screams of agony, we knew that the powder on -the lawn was fired and that many of the foe had been blown to pieces -or dreadfully injured. - -Yet, above all this, there pealed loud the horrid yell of all the -Shawnee warriors and their allies, the Doegs--and the yell was nearer -now than it had hitherto been. 'Twas answered, however, by a ringing -British cheer from those outside and those in the rooms above, while -still Buck was heard inspiring the latter to take cool aim and shoot -slow. - -But to defend the house from the outside was now no longer possible; -our gallant little band was driven back, and so my lord, O'Rourke, and -the overseers came all in, and rapidly the last door that had been -left open was barred tight, every shutter closed even more fast than -before, every loophole secured except those from which we could shoot -at the oncoming enemy. And against windows and doors the heavy -furniture was piled, both with a view to resist their being forced -open and to stop any bullets that might come through, while the order -was sent upstairs to have the boiling water ready to empty on the -heads of the besiegers as they neared the house. - -To Mary and me, who had never seen aught of bloodshed before, and -whose lives had been so peaceful and calm in this my old home, you may -feel sure that the dreadful scenes we were passing through were most -terrifying and appalling. For, not to calculate the ruin to my house -and its surroundings, to my trodden-down plantations and devastated -furniture, who could tell what would be the result of the night's -work? That the manor would be burnt to the ground was the least to be -expected, and what might follow was too awful to consider. That all -the men in the house would be put to death, or taken away to be -tortured, was a certainty, we thought, once the Indians had gained the -victory and forced an entrance. As to the women's fate, that was not -to be dwelt upon. Happily, we had our lovers to slay us at the last -moment, or, even should they themselves be slain, and so fail us, -there were the weapons to our hands with which to bring about our -doom, if necessary. - -O'Rourke was wounded badly already, his arm being now roughly -bandaged. Yet, beyond begging for some drink, he desisted not in his -efforts but instantly took up his place in the hall, on which an -attack might at once be anticipated and from which he could easily -reach us should he be required in the saloon. And with him went the -overseers. From above, we knew that Buck and his party were still -firing on the advancing foe--who were now on the lawn and close on the -porch--and once he called out to us that the "niggers" were bringing -up small trees and brushwood, evidently with the intention of firing -the house. But that which warned us more surely than all that our -bitterest hour was at hand, was the sound we heard at the shutters of -the saloon window. - -That sound was the sharp clicking noise made by the tomahawks of the -Indians on the wood of those shutters and on the iron bars. - -They were cutting away the last defence between us and them! - -My lord advanced to the table on which were all the pistols primed -and loaded--for Mary and I had attended to each one as it had been -emptied--and bade Kinchella stand behind him. Then he drew me to him, -and folded me once more in his arms and kissed me, saying: - -"My dearest one, my heart's only love, here we stand together for, -perhaps, the last time. If I can shield you with my life I will, if I -should lose that life I pray God to bless you ever. Now, Kinchella," -turning to him, "stand you also by my side as you once stood by it -when I wanted a friend badly enough, God He knows; and, as you -befriended me in those days, so will I befriend you now if 'tis in my -power. Kiss your girl, Kinchella, as I have kissed mine, and then -forget for the time being that you are a clergyman and remember -nothing but that you are a man fighting for her you love." - -And, even as he spoke, still louder grew the clicking of the tomahawks -outside. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -AT BAY - - -My lord's pistol was raised, ready. The first hand or arm that -appeared through the shutters would be shattered as it came. Yet, even -as he stood there waiting to see the woodwork forced in, he altered -his tactics somewhat. The table was too full in front of the windows, -too much exposed to any missile that might be directed into the room. -It would be better, he said, at the side. - -"And, Kinchella," he exclaimed as thus they altered it, "keep you on -one side the window while I take the other. With a pistol in each hand -you can shoot them one by one, while I, on this, can do the same; or, -better still, we can fire alternately. Unless they can force in the -whole front and enter in a mass, we should be able to hold the place -for hours." - -Even as he spoke, we heard the cracking and splintering of wood, we -saw a strip of the massive pine-wood shutters forced in and a huge red -hand and tattooed arm protruded through the opening, while the former, -seizing the shutter, tore at it to wrench it apart. - -"Hist!" said my lover, making a sign to the other to do nothing, "the -first blood is mine," and, grasping his sword, he swung it over his -head and, a moment later, the hand and forearm were lying at our feet. -But no shriek from outside the window was heard, only, in the place of -the bleeding stump that had been there, there came four large fingers -of another hand that endeavoured to wrench away the wood as the other -had done; fingers that met the same fate. Then for a moment there was -silence outside--silence that was broken by renewed hammering from the -tomahawks on all parts of the shutters. - -But now there came a fearful howl from beyond the porch which was only -explained to us by hearing the cry of Buck upstairs. "Good! Good! Give -'em another bath. 'Twill do 'em good. Their dirty skins h'aint been -washed for a long while. Bring more hot water along quick, I say." - -Unfortunately for us, those who were endeavouring to force their entry -into the room where we stood, were sheltered from the boiling water by -the roof of the porch (a solid stone one which served also as a -balcony to the rooms above) as also were those attacking the main -front entrance. - -At the back of the house, however, on which a party of Indians were -engaged in endeavouring to also force their way in, there was no -porch, nor was there any to the sides of the building; and it was from -these that we had heard the screams as the contents of Buck's great -barrels had reached them. - -It took, however, but little time for the water to become exhausted, -and then we knew that the conflict must resolve itself into a -hand-to-hand one. We might keep the savages at bay for some time, it -was true, so long as they could enter the house by one door only, but -how long, we had to ask ourselves, could such as that be the case? In -a short time one of the windows of the saloon must go, or one of the -great doors, of which there were two, or one of the side doors; and -then the Indians would pour through the opening thus made and the -massacre begin. Even with those men under O'Rourke and Buck we were -not twenty-five strong, the cowardly negroes who were left being, as I -have said, all huddled together in the vaults and cellars below, where -they had locked themselves in--so that, since there must be two or -three hundred Indians outside at least, the resistance could not -continue long. - -Alas! as it was, our front window giving on to the porch already -showed signs of yielding to the attack from without, though now there -was a fresh barricade offered to the incoming foe by a heap of their -own slain who lay outside and also partly within the room. Already, my -lord had shot several on the outside, taking deadly aim as their -hideous faces appeared at the orifice, but the breach had widened so -that two or three had crawled into the room to be, however, despatched -at once by him or Mr. Kinchella. - -And now, since, of all else, this window showed to those outside that -it would yield more easily than any other spot, the attack was -entirely directed towards it; the Indians were thundering against what -remained of the iron-bound shutters with rams made of small trees that -they had uprooted, as well as cutting away the lighter woodwork with -their weapons. - -"Another half hour more," said my lord, "will see the end. God He -knows what it will be. Yet, dearest, since it is to come I am happy -that I shall die in your sweet company. But, oh! Joice, Joice, if we -might have lived how happy our future would have been." - -"Must we die?" I wailed, woman-like, "must we die? And now when our -love has not been told more than a few hours. Oh! Gerald." - -"We can hope," he said, "but that is all. And, sweetheart, best it is -to look things straight in the face." Then, even as he spoke, he fired -again at a horrid savage who had half forced his body through the -aperture--getting larger every moment--and added one more to the list -of slain. - -Now all the others were called for to come into the saloon and help in -the resistance there, where the attack was principally directed; which -call they instantly answered abandoning their previous posts. And, bad -man as I at last knew O'Rourke to have been, I could not but respect -him for what he had done on my behalf this night, nor could I but -mourn for his evident sufferings. His bandaged arm, being helpless, -hung by his side, his close cropped iron-grey hair was matted with -blood from a wound in his head, and his face which had once been so -purple was now as white as marble from his loss of blood. - -"Oh! sir," I exclaimed, as I tried to still my shaking limbs as best I -might, while I raised my head from Mary's breast on which it had been -lying, she comforting me like an elder sister with soft words, "oh! -sir, my heart bleeds for you. You have been indeed a true hero -to-night in my cause, and I thank you." - -"Madam," he said, speaking faintly, "I came here to do my best for you -because--because--well--well, because you and this other lady received -me as a gentleman; treatment that I have not been much accustomed to -since I was a boy; though I was one once. No matter. The end is at -hand, I imagine--ah! well hit, my lord, well hit, but it will avail us -nothing now--I am glad that Patrick O'Rourke is making a good one." - -The hit he spoke of was one directed by Gerald at yet another Indian -who had just succeeded in crawling into the room as far as his head -and shoulders; after which Gerald himself came back, and, standing by -the others, said: - -"All our partings have to be made now. See how they bulge that shutter -inwards. There will be a score of savages in the room in a moment! -Farewell, Joice, my darling; farewell, Miss Mills. Old friend," and he -put his hand lovingly on Kinchella's shoulder; "farewell. And for you, -O'Rourke," looking round at him, "well, tonight's work--especially -your night's work--wipes all the past out of my mind for ever. -O'Rourke," and he held out his hand, "let us part in peace." - -At first O'Rourke made no reply but stood regarding the other as -though dazed, and then raised his hand to his head, so that my lover -exclaimed, "You are badly hurt. Is that wound in your head worse than -it appears?" - -"No, no," O'Rourke answered, speaking slowly, though he kept his eye -ever fixed on the window, waiting for the inrush that was now at hand; -"but it seems to me that the end--my end--is near. I have had these -presentiments come over me often of late--it may be to-night, now in a -moment--God He knows! And when Gerald St. Amande holds out his hand in -forgiveness to me, it must be---- Ah, well, at least you shall see I -will die fighting--yes, die fighting"; and, as he spoke, he clasped -Gerald's hand in his and thanked God that he had lived to have it -extended to him. Then, once again, he asked his pardon for all the -evil he had wrought him. - -And now there came in Buck and Lamb and the other bondsmen and -convicts--though no longer either bondsmen or convict-servants if they -could live through this dreadful night--for they were useless upstairs -any longer. With them came the mastiffs who had replaced those -poisoned; fierce beasts, who seemed to scent the Indians they were -trained to fight and whose eyes glared savagely at the windows to -which they ran, while they stooped their great heads to the bodies of -the dead ones lying inside the sill and sniffed at their already fast -congealing blood.[2] And the deep bays that they sent up, and which -rang through the beleaguered house, seemed for the moment to have had -its effect outside. For, during that moment, the yells of the foe -ceased and the rushes against the iron-bound shutters ceased also, but -only for a moment. - -"What!" exclaimed Buck, catching some of O'Rourke's words, "die -fighting, my noble captain! Ay, so I should say; or rather, fight and -live. What! We have seen fighting in our day before," whereon he -winked at the other, "but never in so good a cause as this for our -gentle mistress. And if we do die fighting," he went on, as coolly as -though death was not within an ace of us all now, "why, dam'me, 'tis -better than the cart and a merry dance in the chains afterwards on a -breezy common. So cheer up, my noble, and let's at 'em. Ha, ha! here -they come!" - -As he spoke, with a crash the shutters came in at last and, through -the open space they left in their fall, there swarmed the hideous foe, -while with a scream Mary and I flung ourselves into each other's arms. - -Oh! how shall I write down the sight we saw? Naked from their waists -upwards, their bodies painted and tattooed with rings and circles, -bars and hoops; their faces coloured partly vermilion, partly white -and partly black; their long coarse hair streaming behind them, their -hands brandishing tomahawks or grasping guns and pistols, which they -discharged into the room, they rushed in, while when they saw our -white faces their demoniacal howls and yells were awful to hear. Yet, -at first, all was not to succumb to them. Of those who first entered, -four were instantly torn to the ground by the mastiffs who seized each -a savage, and, having pulled them down, pinned them there as they -gored their throats. Also, of those who came on behind these, many -were shot or cut down ere they could leap over their prostrate -comrades' forms. My lord and Mr. Kinchella by a hasty arrangement made -with the others, fired only to the left of the window, Lamb and Buck -taking those who came in on the right side, while O'Rourke, his sword -flashing unceasingly through the smoke and the light of the room, -fought hand to hand with those Indians who passed between the shots of -the others, he being ably backed up by the remainder of the bondsmen -and convicts. - -"Steady! steady!" called out my lord. "Easy. Not too fast. Ere long -there will be a barricade of their dead carcasses so that none can -leap over them. Joice, my darling, shelter yourself behind the spinet; -so, 'tis well. Miss Mills, how goes it with you." - -"Give it to 'em, noble captain," roared Buck as, firing at a savage -who came near him, he brought him down, exclaiming, "fair between the -eyes. Fair." Then again, "At 'em, captain, at 'em, skin 'em alive; -lord! this beats the best fight we ever had with any of the Bow Street -crew; at 'em, lop 'em down, captain; ah, would you!" to an Indian who -had advanced near enough to aim a blow at him with his tomahawk which -would have brained him had it reached its mark, "would you!" and with -that he felled the other with the butt end of his gun. "Heavens," he -cried, "how I wish one of these redskins was the judge who sentenced -me!" - -It had become a mêlée now, in which all were fighting hand to -hand--O'Rourke was down, lying prone, yet still grasping his sword; -Mr. Kinchella standing before me and Mary still kept off those who -endeavoured to seize us; my lord, Buck, and Lamb, side by side, fought -yet unharmed; and of the others some were slain, some wounded, and -some still able to render assistance. - -And now, oh! dreadful sight! I saw the blood spurt from my beloved -one's forehead; I saw him reel and stagger, and, with a shriek, I -rushed forth and caught him in my arms as he fell; his blood dyeing my -white satin evening dress and mantua. - -Then, mad with grief and frenzy, I cared no longer what the end of -this night's work might be. He whom I loved so fondly lay with his -head upon my breast, while I knew not whether he was yet dead or still -dying. My home was wrecked; all the light of my life was gone out, as -I deemed, for ever. Nothing mattered now--nothing; the sooner the -howling savages around me slew us all the better. So, through my -tears, I looked on at the scene of carnage, praying that some bullet -might crash through my brain or some tomahawk scatter my brains upon -the floor where I sat with him in my arms. - -What the end of this night's work might be! Alas, alas! the end was at -hand! - -The fighting had ceased at last. On our side there were no longer any -to continue it; on the Indians' side there was nothing to be done but -to bind and secure their prisoners. The ammunition had given out, -after which Buck and Lamb were soon made fast and their hands tied -behind them. Mr. Kinchella and the other men were treated in the same -way and now came our turn; the turn of the two unhappy women who had -fallen into the power of these human fiends. Yet, savages as they -were, they offered us, at present at least, no violence, while one who -had fought in the van ever since they had entered the saloon came -forward and, standing before Mary and me, said in good English (many -of the Shawnees and Doegs having learnt our language when they dwelt -in peace with the colonists, and retained it and taught it to their -descendants): "White women--children of those who drove us forth from -them when we would have remained their friends, children of those who -stole our lands under the guise of what they called fair barter and -traffic--the fortune of the night's fight has gone against you and you -are in our power." - -"What do you intend to do with us?" I stammered, looking up at the -great Indian who towered above all others. "I, at least, and those of -my generation have never harmed you, yet now you have attacked my -house like this." - -"It is known to us, white woman," answered the chief, as I deemed him -to be, "that you, the English woman ruling here, have harmed none, -therefore you are unharmed now, you and this other. But it is the -order of our great medicine chief, whose works are more wonderful than -the works of any other man who dwells upon the earth, that you be kept -prisoners until he comes; both you and this other with the dark eyes -and skin." - -"And who," exclaimed Mary, her eyes flashing angrily at the superbly -handsome chief who stood before her, "who is your great medicine chief -of whom we know nothing, yet who knows us?" - -"He knows you as he knows everything that takes place from the rising -of the sun until its setting, and who he is you soon will learn. Even -now he comes from the destruction of other white men's houses like -unto yours, he comes to claim you as his squaws who shall abide with -him for ever." - -I shrieked as he spoke, for I knew from tales and narratives told over -many a winter's fire in Virginia what was the fate of those women who -were borne away to be the squaws of these Indian chiefs; but, even as -I did so, we heard shouts without as though those savages who had not -entered the house were hailing some new arrival. - -"Hark, hark!" exclaimed the chief. "He comes--he comes to claim you at -last, as he has promised himself for many moons he would claim you. -Hark, it is the great medicine man himself." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE GREAT MEDICINE CHIEF - - -"Hark," the Indian said again, "the great medicine chief comes to -claim the white women." - -Since they had offered us no violence, nor indeed had they exerted any -towards their other prisoners after the fight was over and they were -bound, Mary and I had scarcely changed our position from the time the -fray ceased. I still sat on the floor with my darling's head upon my -breast, Mary stood by Kinchella, his bound hands clasped in hers, and -sometimes kissing him as, over and over again, I also kissed my lord's -dear lips while attempting to staunch the flow of blood from his head. -The other prisoners all bound together looked forth into the night, -waiting to see what the great personage whose arrival was now welcomed -might be like. On the floor O'Rourke still lay where he had fallen, -and I feared that surely he must be dead. Yet when I thought of him -and how bravely he had fought this night, I could not but hope, even -though plunged in my own misery, that much of his past wickedness -would be forgiven him in consequence of his repentance. - -"The great medicine chief, eh?" said Buck to Lamb, not even troubling -to lower his voice for fear it should offend our captor or any other -of the Indians around us who might understand his words--and seeming -as cool and reckless now as though he were one of the victors instead -of the vanquished. "The great medicine chief, eh? I wonder what he's -like, though we shall see soon enough. Some mean mountebank I'll bet a -crown--if ever I get hold of one again--who finds hocus-pocussing -these red devils a good deal easier than fighting alongside of 'em. -Knows everything that happens on earth, does he? Ay! just as much as a -gipsy in a booth can tell when a gentleman of the road is going to be -hanged, or is able to prophecy that the mother of a dozen shall never -have a child. How they howl for him, though, rot 'em, if they had any -sense they'd see he had enough of his own to keep out of the way while -the bustle was going on." - -"He comes. He comes," again exclaimed the chief, and, even in my -trouble, I could not but marvel much at seeing so powerful looking a -warrior prostrate himself with such great humility upon the floor, -while all the other Indians did the same. - -For now, escorted by several savages who marched in front of him, and -a like number behind him, this person strode into the room and stood -before us. His face was not visible, excepting only the eyes which -twinkled behind the light silken cloth he wore around it, but his form -presented the appearance of litheness and activity, and gave the idea -that, however wonderful his arts might be, he had at least acquired -them young, since he was undoubtedly not even yet arrived at middle -age. He was clad in a tight-fitting tunic of tanned deer skin, over -which fell the long Indian blanket with devices worked on it of skulls -and snakes as well as of a flaming sun and many stars, and his -leggings and moccasins were stained red. His head-dress was the -ordinary Indian cap, or coronet, into which was thrust a number of -eagles' feathers, while on his breast he bore, hanging on to a chain -of shells, a human hand dried and mummified so that the tips of the -finger-bones could be seen protruding through the shrivelled flesh, -and, equally dreadful sight, some _ears_ strung together! - -Those twinkling eyes wandered round the wrecked saloon, taking in at -one glance, as it seemed to me, the dead forms of Indians and white -men, the broken furniture and the prostrate figures of the other -Indians who knelt before him; and then they fixed themselves on Mary -and me, while from behind the silken mask--for such indeed it -was--there came a cruel, gurgling laugh. And I, driven to desperation -by that sound, which augured even worse for me than what I had yet -endured, softly placed my dear one's head upon the floor and, leaving -him there, cast myself before the medicine chief and, at his knees and -with my hands uplifted, besought his mercy. - -"Oh!" I cried between my sobs, "if you can speak my tongue, as so many -of your race are able to do, hear my prayer, I beseech you; the prayer -of a broken-hearted, ruined woman who has never injured you or yours -till driven to it in self-defence; a woman at whose people's hearths -you and yours have warmed yourselves and been welcome, at whose table -you and yours were once fed and treated well. Oh! what have I, a -defenceless girl, done that this my home should be sacked by your -warriors, my loved one slain? See, see! he who lies there was to -have been my husband--these brave men around me, living and dead, -would have done nought to you had you left us in peace. What, -what," I continued, "have I done that you come as a conqueror to my -house--what?----" - -He raised his hand as thus I knelt before him, and held it up as -though bidding me be silent; then, in a hollow, muffled voice, he -said, speaking low: "You are Joice Bampfyld. That alone is enough," -and again his cruel laugh grated on my ears. - -But at that voice, muffled as it was, I sprang to my feet as did Mary, -while even Buck looked startled and Mr. Kinchella amazed, and Mary -exclaimed passionately: - -"_You! You!_ It is you. And she has pleaded on her knees for mercy to -such a thing as you. Oh! the infamy of it, the infamy for such as she -is to plead to such, as you!" - -The prostrate Indians raised their heads in astonishment at her words -of scorn--doubtless it was incredible to them that any mortal should -so dare to address their great medicine man and wonder-worker--while -he, with his glittering eyes fixed on his followers, bade them at once -begone and leave him alone with their captives. Alone, he said, so -that he might awe these women into submission. And they, obedient to -him, withdrew at his command, though still with the look of -astonishment on their faces that any should have ventured to so speak -to him and still live. - -"Yes," he said when they had retired; and, unwrapping the silken folds -from his face so that in a moment, all painted and tattooed though he -was, that most unutterable villain, Roderick St. Amande, stood -revealed before us, "yes, it is I. Returned at last to Pomfret Manor -to repay in full all the treatment I received, and to give to all and -every one in the village of Pomfret a just requital of their kindness -in driving me forth, wounded and bleeding, to the savages who proved -more kind than they. God! if I had had my will the whole place should -have been put to slaughter long ago, and there should have been no -reprieve lasting for five years." - -I have said that the Indians who had captured us had left Mary and me -free and untouched, so that, with the exception that there was no -chance of escape, we were under no restraint. And now that freedom was -seized upon by Mary, who, becoming wrought upon by the fiendish -cruelty of this creature's words, seized up a pistol lying on the -spinet by her side and snapped it at him--but vainly, as, since its -last discharge, it had not been reloaded. - -"You dog," she said as she did so, "you base dog. It can be but a -righteous act to slay such as you." But, when she found that the -weapon was harmless, she flung it to the floor with violence while she -exclaimed that even heaven seemed against us now. - -But to this Mr. Kinchella raised a protest, telling her that even in -the troubles which now surrounded us it was impossible for any -Christian to believe such a thing, and pointing out to her--with what -I have ever since thought was unconscious scorn--that, since heaven -had not seen fit even to desert one so evil as the creature before us, -it would be impossible for it to do so to those who, righteously and -God-fearingly, worshipped it and its ruler. - -"I know not," said Roderick St. Amande, "who this fellow is, though by -his garb he is a minister; but amongst the tribe to which I now belong -the Christian minister, as he is termed, is ever regarded as the worst -of white men, and as the one, above all, who makes the best bargain -for robbing the native. The one who teaches him to drink deeper than -any other white man teaches him, and who has less respect for their -squaws' fidelity and their daughters' honour.[3] So, good sir, when we -have safely conveyed you to our home in the mountains, I will promise -you that you will have full need of the intercession of that heaven of -which you speak ere you can escape torture and death." - -"I shall doubtless have strength granted to endure both," the other -replied calmly. "And I will, at least, undertake one thing, which is -that no cowardice shall prompt me to embrace the life of a savage and -a heathen to save my skin." - -The villain scowled at him as he spoke these bitter words, but -answered him no more; then, glancing down at some of the prostrate -bodies lying at his feet, he exclaimed, "I trust all these carrion are -still alive. They will be wanted for the rejoicings. Let's see for -myself," while, kicking O'Rourke's body with his foot, he turned it -over until it was face upwards. Then, for a moment, even he seemed -appalled, recoiling from it--yet an instant afterwards bending down to -gaze into the features of the unhappy adventurer. - -"What!" he exclaimed, "what, O'Rourke here? O'Rourke, the clumsy fool -who, when he should have shipped off my beggarly cousin shipped me in -his place? O'Rourke. O'Rourke! Oh! if he but lives, how I will repay -him for his folly. What a dainty dish he shall make for the torturers! -How his fat body shall feed the flames! For, even though his mistake -has made me a greater man than ever I could have been at home--ay, one -before whom these credulous red fools bow as to a god--there is much -suffering to be atoned for; the awful suffering of the passage in the -_Dove_; your father's insults, my dearest Joice, and his blows; and -also much else. But for that latter, you, my dear one, will repay me -when you are mine and mine alone, with no rival in my heart but our -haughty Mary, who shall be my dark love as you shall be my fair one." - -As the wretch spoke, however, there were two things happened that he -saw not, in spite of the all-seeing eyes with which he was credited by -the tribe he dwelt with. He did not see that, as he turned to insult -Mary and me, O'Rourke first opened his own eyes and gazed on him and -then raised his head to stare at him; he did not see that, from where -the window had been, the Indian chief heard all he said, and stared in -amazement and looked strangely at him as he spoke of the "credulous -red fools." - -But Mary and Mr. Kinchella and I saw it all, as well as did Buck and -Lamb. Nay, we saw more; we saw the Indian's hand feel for the hilt of -his dagger and half draw it from his wampum belt, and then return it -to its place while he smoothed his features to the usual impenetrable -Indian calm. - -"And," went on Roderick St. Amande, as he drew near to my beloved -one, who still lay as I had placed him, "who is this spruce and -well-dressed gentleman who was to have been the husband of my Joice. -Some Virginian dandy, I presume, who, not good enough for England, is -yet a provincial magnate here. Ay, it must be so"--stooping down to -gaze into my lord's face--"it must be so, for I have seen those very -features when in a more boyish form. Possibly he is one of the young -Pringles, or Byrds, or Clibornes, whom I knew five years ago. Is't not -so, Joice, my beloved Joice, my future queen of squaws?" - -That he should not recognise Gerald for his own cousin, for the man -who held the rank he had once falsely said would some day be his, was -the first moment of happiness I had known through this dreadful night, -since the fact of his not so recognising him might, I thought, save my -lover from instant death, if he were not dead already. For, if that -villain could but guess who he really was, I did not doubt but that he -would sheath his knife in the other's heart, all helpless as he lay. -This being so, I answered: - -"He is a gentleman and, I fear, is dead. Is that not enough for you?" - -"Nay, too much. I would not have one Virginian dead; yet, I would not -have one die so easily as he is dying now, for he is not at present -dead. No, no; the dead are no good to us when we return from a -successful attack such as this of Pomfret; it is the living we want; -the quick not the dead. For see, my Joice, and you, too, my black but -bonny Mary, the dead cannot feel! Their nerves and sinews have no -longer the power of suffering, their flesh is cold, their tongues -paralysed, so that they can neither shriek with pain nor cry for -mercy--but, with the living, how different it is! They can feel all -that is done upon them, they can feel limbs twisted off, and burnings, -and loppings off of--of--of, why, say of ears," and here he grinned so -demoniacally while he fingered the clusters of human ears that hung on -his own breast, that all of white blood in the room shuddered but -himself. "Yes, all these things they can feel. And, my sweethearts," -he went on, gloatingly over our horror and his own foul and devilish -picturings, "shall I tell you what the Indian tortures are, what you -will see--when you sit by my side, my best beloved of wives--done upon -these men here. On him," pointing to Mr. Kinchella, "and him," with -his finger directed to my lord, "and this old blunderer," indicating -O'Rourke, "and these scum and rakings of the London gutters?" sweeping -his arm round so as to denominate all the convicts and bondsmen who -had fought so well for us this night, though without avail. "Shall I -tell you that? 'Twill be pretty hearing." - -For myself I could but sob and moan and say, "No, no. Tell us no more! -Spare them, oh, spare them!" But Mary, whose spirit was of so much -firmer mould than mine, and who was no more cowed by him than was Buck -himself--who, indeed, had interrupted his remarks with many -contemptuous and disdainful snorts and "pishes" and "pahs" and with, -once, a scornful laugh--answered him in very different fashion. - -"Tell us nothing, you murderous, cowardly wolf," she said, while she -extended her hand defiantly at him as though she forbade him to dare -to speak again, "tell us nothing, since we should not believe you. We -know--God help us! we all in Virginia know--that the Indian exacts a -fearful reckoning from all who have once wronged him, but we know, -too, that that exactment is made upon the actual persons who have done -the wrong, and not on those who have never raised hand against him, as -none in this house to-night have done except in their own defence. As -for you, you cowardly, crawling dog, who think you can egg on the -Indians to gratify your petty spite and cruelty, what, what, think -you, will they do for the gratification of your thirst for innocent -blood when I, tell them who and what their great wonderworking, -miracle-making medicine chief is?" and I saw her dark eyes steal into -the obscurity of the ruined window frame to observe if the chief out -there heard her words. But he only drew a little more in the shadow as -she did so. - -"Silence, woman," said Roderick St. Amande, advancing threateningly -towards her. "Silence, I say, or it shall be the worse for you." - -"Silence," she repeated, "silence! And why? So as to shield you from -their wrath if they should know who you are? Silence! Nay, I tell you -Roderick St. Amande, that when you have taken us away to wherever you -herd now, I will speak out loudly and tell them all. All, all, -as to what their great medicine man--their great _impostor_ is. A -wonder-worker, a magician!" And she laughed long and bitterly as she -spoke, so that his face became so distorted with anger that I feared -he would rush at her and slay her. Yet, as she did so, and still spake -further, I saw the Indian chief's eyes steal round the corner while he -listened to her every word. "A wonder-worker! a magician!" she went -on. "Ay! a pretty one forsooth. A magician who could not save his ear -from a righteous vengeance; a bond-slave to an English colonist; a -poor, pitiful drunkard! What a thing for a red man who cannot live in -slavery, and who hates in his heart the fire-water he has learnt to -drink, to worship! A magician who knows all. Ha! ha! A wonder-worker! -who stole from out his owner's bookshelves a 'British Merlin' and a -calendar because, perhaps, he knew the credulous creatures with whom -he would ere long dwell." - -"Ay," exclaimed Buck, "and a book of how to do tricks with cards from -me, with many recipes for palming and counterfeiting. A magician, ha! -ha! ha!" - -And of all that was said the Indian chief had heard every word. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -IN CAPTIVITY - - -Although the villain knew not that the chief--whose name I learnt -hereafter was Anuza, signifying in the Shawnee and Doeg tongue, the -Bear--had heard all, his rage was terrible. He gesticulated so before -Mary that again I feared for her, he struck at Buck, calling him thief -and other opprobrious names, and he kicked at O'Rourke's body as -though he would kick in his ribs. Then, swearing and vowing that if -Mary spoke before his followers--for so he called them--as she had -spoken now he would, instead of taking her for one of his squaws, have -her tongue cut out of her mouth so that she should never speak again, -he called for the Indians to enter from without. And they, coming in a -moment or so afterwards, showed no signs upon their impassive faces of -having overheard, or understood, one word that had been uttered. - -The dawn had come now, and the light as it crept in to my ruined -saloon served but to increase my sense of the horrors of the night. At -the side of the window to which they had been pushed by Anuza and the -others, so as to allow for easy ingress and exit, lay huddled together -numberless dead Indians, two or three of my poor servants, and the -bodies of the mastiffs, all of which had been slain after a fierce -resistance. The carpets and rugs for which my father had sent to -London were torn and slit and drenched with blood, the spinet and the -harpsichord were both ruined, ornaments were broken, and the pictures -splashed with blood. Oh, what a scene of horror for the sun to rise -upon! - -"Let all the prisoners who are alive be taken to the woods at once," -exclaimed Roderick to Anuza; "to-night we start back to the mountains. -Our work is done. Pomfret is destroyed, or destroyed so much that -years shall not see it again as it was." - -Once more, as at his coming, Anuza and his followers prostrated -themselves low before him, whereby I feared that, after all Mary's -denunciations, they still might not have understood how vile a -creature was this whom they worshipped--and then, addressing us, the -impostor said: - -"My loves that shall be--my sweet ones of the Wigwam, I leave you now -while I go to seek others to accompany you to our homes. For your -friends shall be with you, I promise you. You shall, I hope, see -cousin Gregory from whom I was once threatened a beating, and Roger -Cliborne, who was to have been married a week hence. Ha! ha! And -Bertram Pringle; he, too, shall ride with us and we will see if his -courage is as great as that of his vaunted fighting cocks. All, all, -my fair Joice and you, my Mary, shall you see, and"--coming close to -us, while he hissed out the words with incredible fury--"you shall see -them all die a hideous, lingering death by tortures such as even no -saint in the calendar ever devised for his enemies. Farewell until -tonight." After which, calling to his guards, he strode forth into the -morning air accompanied by them. - -For a moment Anuza the Bear stood where the window once had been while -gazing after him, his huge form filling up half the vacant space as he -did so. Then slowly, and with that stately grace which the Indian -never lacks, he returned to where we were--I being again crouched on -the floor with my beloved one's head in my arms--and standing before -Mary, he said: - -"White woman, were the words that fell from your lips to him the words -of truth? Is he all that you have said?" - -"He is all that I have said," she answered, "ay, and a thousand times -worse. Why do you ask?" - -Yet she told me afterwards that she already guessed the reason of his -question. - -He made no reply but still stood gazing down at her from his great -height, while she returned his glance fearlessly; then he turned to -one of his warriors behind him and spoke to him in their own tongue, -whereon the man vanished and came back a moment afterwards bearing in -his hand one of my great bowls full of water. - -"Drink," he said to her, "and refresh yourself." When she had done so -he passed the bowl to me, bidding me drink also. Likewise he let me -bathe my darling's lips with the cool water and lave his temples, and -he permitted Mr. Kinchella to drink; while, on Buck and Lamb making -signs that they too were thirsty, water was fetched for them by -another savage. - -Next, he sat himself down upon a couch that stood against the wall -opposite to us and, with his chin in his hand, sat meditating long, -while we could form no guess as to what shape those meditations were -taking. Then once more, when our suspense was intense, he spake again, -addressing me this time: - -"White maiden, you who rule as mistress of this abode, you and she -spoke to him as one whom you had known before. Answer me, and answer -truly, what know you of him? And has this, your sister," for so he -seemed to deem Mary, "also spoken truly?" - -"Alas! alas!" I replied, "only too truly. He came to my father's house -a slave bought with his money," here the Bear started and clenched his -great hands; "yet was he not made a slave because of our pity for him. -He ate my father's bread and, in return, he sought the dishonour of -his daughter." Then, being sadly wrought upon by all the misery that -had come upon us, I threw myself upon my knees before him as I had -done to that other, and, lifting up my hands in supplication, I cried -again, "Oh chief of the Shawnee warriors, if in your heart there is -any of that noble spirit with which your race is credited, pity me and -mine; pity us, pity us! Your fathers, as I have said, ate once of our -bread, this house which you have to-night made desolate sheltered them -once. Will you show us no more gratitude than that craven whom you, in -your delusion, worship as a great medicine chief?" - -He bade me rise, even assisting me to do so, and motioned to one of -the braves to wheel up another couch on which to seat myself, and all -the time he muttered to himself, "A slave! a slave! a drunkard! a -cheat!" and his eyes glistened fiercely. - -But at last he rose to his feet again, and said with the calm that -distinguished all his actions: - -"The time has come to set forth to the mountains---" - -"No, no!" Mary and I shrieked together, "No! no! Spare us, oh! spare -us. Nay, rather slay us here on the spot than let us fall into his -hands." - -"If," he replied, looking down imperturbably upon us, "you have spoken -truth, as from his own manner I deem it to be, no woman will ever fall -into his hands again. If he has deceived us as you have said, no -punishment he promised for the prisoners of Pomfret will equal that -which he himself will endure. I have spoken." - -"And our dear ones," I said, "what, what shall become of them? Oh! do -not tear us from those we love," while, even as I spoke, I flung -myself on Gerald's body and kissed his lips and wept over him. "Those -who are alive must journey with us into the forests and towards the -mountains--those who are gone to their fathers we war not with. This -one," he said, stooping over Gerald, "this one, who was you say to -have been your mate, is not dead, but--he will die." - -Again I shrieked at his words, though as I did so I saw so strange a -look in the chief's eye that the shriek died upon my lips. It was a -look I could not understand. - -"He will die," he went on, "he will die. Yet he was a brave man; of -all white men in this house none last night fought more fiercely. And -this other," turning to the body of O'Rourke, "he too still lives, and -he too will die. Let him lie here." - -His glance rested next on Mr. Kinchella, and, in the same soft -impassive voice--the voice in which there was no variance of tone--he -said, "You are unharmed?" - -"Yes," the other replied, "I am unharmed." - -"And you," exclaimed the Bear, striding to where all the others stood -bound, "you, too, have escaped our weapons; the great War God has -spared you?" - -"Ay, noble chief," exclaimed Buck, as though addressing a comrade, -"the great War God, as you call him, generally does spare Peter Buck. -I was born to good luck, and, noble chief, being so spared I'm going -to give you a few revelations about your great medicine man who's just -gone out." - -"Silence," exclaimed Anuza, "not now; not now. But come, the day has -arrived. We must go forth." Then turning to me he said, "Take your -last farewell of him you love." - -Oh! how I kissed my darling again and again, how I whispered in his -ears my love for him in those sad moments of parting, while Mary knelt -by my side and comforted me and Mr. Kinchella stood by gazing down on -to Gerald's white face. To think that I should have to leave him lying -thus, to think that this was our parting when our love was but so -newly told! - -They took us away very gently, it is true, from my old house, now so -wrecked and battered; they let me go back once more to press my lips -to his; they even let Mary and me go to our rooms, escorted by a -guard, to fetch our cloaks and hoods. But, gentle as these savages -were now--far, far more so, indeed, than could ever have been -believed, remembering all the stories of their cruelty that we had -listened to--their firmness and determination never varied and we were -as much prisoners as though we had been shut up in a fortress. - -Yet, at that last parting to which I was allowed to run back ere we -left the room, there happened a thing that brought some joy to my poor -bruised heart. For, as once more I stooped over Gerald to take, or -rather give, my last kiss, I heard O'Rourke whisper low--his body -lying close to my lord's: "Fear not to leave him. I was but stunned, -and I doubt if he is much worse. And believe in me. He shall be my -care. As soon as may be, we will follow you. Fear not." - -And so I went forth with them, and there was greater peace at my heart -than I had dared to hope would ever come again. - -All that day we rode towards the forests that lie at the foot of the -mountains and, there having been enough horses in my stables, as well -as that of O'Rourke, none of us were without one. Ahead of all went -Anuza--the Indians themselves being all mounted on horses they had -obtained from the village--speaking no word to any one, but shrouded -in his impenetrable Indian calm; behind him followed a score or so of -his warriors, then we, the prisoners, came, and then the remainder of -the band. Speech was not forbidden us--indeed, there was no enemy for -our captors to fear if Pomfret was destroyed and all the dwellers -thereabouts either driven forth or massacred--and so we conversed in -whispers with each other and discussed in melancholy the sad fate that -had befallen us all. - -"Yet," said Mr. Kinchella who rode by Mary and me, "I cannot fear the -worst. The chief's behaviour is not that of the Indian who is taking -his victims to a dreadful death. The denunciation of that scoundrel by -Mary has caused a terrible revolution in his mind; he seems, indeed, -more like one who is carrying witnesses against another than one who -is leading forth prisoners." - -"And, reverend sir," said Buck, who rode close by, "what's more is -that the chief doesn't stomach the business he is about. He knew well -enough that neither his lordship nor the captain was badly wounded, -and he left 'em there to escape as best they might--any way he gave -them a chance." - -"Yet he said that he did so," I replied with a sob, "because they -must die." - -"Ay, mistress," answered Buck, "so they must. All men must die. But -they're not a-going to die yet, and he knew it. But I'll tell you who -is going to die, and that before long. That's Roderick, the medicine -man. He's marked as much as any man ever was when the dead warrant -came down to Newgate. Ay! and a good deal more, too, for mine came -down once and yet here I am alive and well, while the old judge who -tried and sentenced me has gone long ago, I make no doubt." - -"What will they do to him?" Mary asked. - -"Do? Do, mistress? Why convict him of being an impostor, and -then--why, then they'll tear him all to pieces. That's what they'll do -with him. And when they've finished with him there won't be as much -left of Roderick as will make a meal for a crow. I've spoken with men -who have been captured by the Indians and lived to escape from them, -and awful tales I've heard of their tortures, but the worst tortures -they ever devised were kept for those whom the Indians have trusted -and been deceived by. And you had only got to look at this chief's -face when you, missy, were denouncing him, to guess what's going to -happen to the other." - -As he spoke we did, indeed, remember the look on Anuza's face as he -stood behind the window frame. Also, I remembered the strange glance -he gave me when he said that Gerald and O'Rourke should live though -they must die later. So that it verily seemed as if Buck had rightly -interpreted all that was going on in our captor's mind. - -We halted that night on the skirts of a forest with, to the west of -it, a spur of the Alleghany Mountains. The scene itself was -picturesque and beautiful, while, to our minds, it had something of -the awful and sublime in connection with it. For here it was that, -although not more than forty English miles from where I had dwelt all -my life, the limit to what we knew of the mysterious unknown land -lying to the west of us ceased. Into those mountains, indeed, the -rough backwoodsman had penetrated sometimes, bringing back stories of -the bands of savages who dwelt within them; we knew that living with -these bands were white men and women who, as children, had been torn -from their homes and parents in raids and forays, but we knew little -more. And for what lay beyond the mountains still farther to the west -we knew nothing except that, thousands of miles away, there was -another ocean which washed the western shores of the great land in -which we dwelt, and that on the coast of that ocean were Spanish -settlements, even as on our coasts there were English settlements. -But, of all that lay between the two when once the mountains were -passed, no man knew anything. - -And now it was that into those mountains we were to be taken, those -mountains to which Roderick St. Amande had fled from my father's -house, and where, to the Indian dwellers within them, he had appeared -as a great magician or sorcerer. - -The halt for the night was made, as I have said, on the skirts of the -forest, with cool grass beneath the trees and, above us, those great -trees stretching out their branches so that they were all interlaced -together and formed a canopy which would have kept the rain from us -had it been the wet instead of the exceeding dry season, and with, -sheltering in those branches, innumerable birds twittering and calling -to each other. It was, indeed, a strange scene! Around us in a vast -circle sat the Indians, speaking never at all to each other, but -smoking silently from the pipes they passed from one to the other, -their faces still with the war-paint upon them and their bodies, now -that the night was coming, wrapped in their blankets. Inside that -circle we, the prisoners, were huddled together, Mary being at this -time asleep with her head on her lover's shoulder and I lying with -mine upon her lap, while the men, now no longer my servants, or, at -least, my slaves, talked in whispers to each other. - -And near us, in the glade, there stood that which we in our poor -hearts regarded as an omen of better things to come. An object which, -at least, went far to cheer us up and to inspire us with the earnest -hope that, even between us and those in whose hands we were, there -might still be a possibility of peace and of mercy from the victor to -the vanquished. This thing was a rude stone in the form of a monolith, -made smooth on one side and with, upon that smoothness, these words -carved: "It was to this spot, in ye yere 1678, that Henry Johnson was -brought from the mountains by an Indian woman, he being a boy of ten, -and set free to return to Jamestown because, as she said to him, 'she -pitied his poor mother.' 'I cried unto Thee in my trouble and Thou -heard'st my prayer.'"[4] - -Seeing this stone before us growing whiter in the dusk as the night -came on, we, too, in our hearts cried unto the Lord and besought Him -to hear our prayers and to give us freedom from our enemies and all -dangers that encompassed us about. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -AMONGST THE SAVAGES - - -The moon was waning and the stars disappearing when the movements of -the Indians told us that the journey was to be resumed. All night -those who had not acted as a watch over the party had laid like -statues folded in their blankets, but now they arose as one man and -set about preparations for our departure. With their awakening we, -too, roused ourselves. Food had been given us over night, consisting -of wheaten cakes and dried deer's flesh, accompanied by gourds of -fresh water, and this was again offered to us ere we set out. Mary and -I scarce ate on either occasion, though the water was indeed welcome, -but Mr. Kinchella made a good meal while Buck and his companions ate -heartily, the ex-highwayman contriving as usual to regard all that -occurred as something to be made light of. - -"'Tis better than prison fare, anyway," he said to his companions in -the dawn, as they fell to on the meat and bread, "but the devil take -the water! 'Tis cold to the stomach even on so fine a summer morning, -and a tass of Nantz or of Kill-devil from the islands would improve it -marvellously. However, that we must not look for till we get back to -freedom." - -"You think, then," Mr. Kinchella asked him, "that to freedom we shall -get back?" The man had proved himself so loyal to us that he was now -admitted to almost familiarity and indeed, it could not be otherwise. -If ever we returned in safety to Pomfret, or to the spot where Pomfret -once stood, these men had my word that they were free; they were, -therefore, no longer our inferiors, while, at the present moment, all -who were prisoners in the hands of the Indians were on a most decided -equality. Yet, let me say it to the honour of all who had been my -bond-servants but a day or two before, none presumed upon their being -so no longer, or treated us with aught but respect. - -"I feel sure of it, reverend sir. As I said before, if the chief is -thinking of anything it is not of killing or torturing us; while, if I -had any money, I would bet it all that there would be a pretty scene -when once Roderick is safely back in their encampment." - -It seemed, indeed, as though this man had, in his shrewdness, -penetrated the innermost thoughts of the Bear, for ere we had been an -hour on the march he, halting his horse so as to send the advance -party of his warriors on ahead, drew alongside of us and, after a -silence of some minutes, said: - -"White people who have dwelt for so long on the lands that once were -ours, know you why your village, which has been spared by us for now -so many moons, has been once more attacked and put to the slaughter by -the braves of my tribe?" - -No one answered him for some short space of time, but at last I, to -whom he seemed particularly to address himself, said: - -"We have no knowledge of why this should be, seeing that 'tis now -almost two generations since those who were once our forefathers' -friends attacked us. We had hoped that never would they do so again, -since we have kept to our own lands and never sought to do evil to you -or those of your race." - -"Never sought to do evil, maiden! Nay, pause. Have 'you not now for -more than fifty moons been dreaming of a raid to be made on us, of -more red men to be slaughtered, more lands to be seized?" - -"Never," I replied. "Never. I know all that has been thought of and -every scheme that has been projected in our midst, yet there was never -aught of this. Nay, so little did we dream of such an attack as you -have made on us that, though we went always armed, 'twas more because -of the custom which had grown upon us than for any other reason, and, -if Indians came about we thought 'twas to take our cattle and our -herds more than to massacre us." - -"Yet it was told to us that your men were projecting a great war -against us; that even from your other land beyond the deep waters -warriors were being sent forth who should come and slay us all. That -strange implements of war were being devised for our certain -destruction, and that all of us were to be slaughtered and our lands -and wives taken from us." - -"Then," I replied, "you were told a base lie." - -"Ay," exclaimed Buck from behind, "and I'll bet a guinea I know who -told it." - -The chief's eyes fell on him and rested on his face; then he spoke -again, bidding him, since he said he knew who 'twas, to name the -person. - -"Name him," said Buck, "name him. Ay, that can I in the first guess. -Why, 'twas that cursed, cringing hound, Roderick St. Amande, who fled -from my pretty mistress's house when her father smote off his ear for -daring to insult her. That's who it was, my noble chief." - -"Smote off his ear!" exclaimed Anuza, while in his face there came the -nearest approach to astonishment that I saw there during the time I -was brought into contact with him. "Smote off the ear of the Child of -the Sun. Yet he told us--he--is this the word of truth?" - -"If that cursed impostor is the Child of the Sun--the Child of the -Devil, ho, ho!--then 'tis most certainly the truth. Here's my lady who -can tell you 'tis true. She saw it done. And, noble chief, is _that_ -the one, that poor, miserable hound, who told you of the attack that -was to be made on you and yours?" - -The chief replied not but rode on by our side, his eyes bent on his -horse's mane and he seemingly wrapped in thought. But he spake no more -to us that day, and we knew that he was meditating on how he and all -his tribe had been imposed on by the wretch Roderick. So we journeyed -on until at last we stood at the foot of the mountains, and with, -before us, the town of the Shawnees. 'Twas a strange sight to our -eyes! - -All around a vast space sheltered or, at least, surrounded by -countless trees, amongst which were the long-leaved pine, the great -cypress and the greater cedar, with some sweet orange trees as well as -myrtles and magnolias, we saw the Indian stockades, their great -protections from man or beast. For over those pointed poles, topped in -many cases with iron barbs, neither foeman nor fierce animal could -spring or make their way through. Then, within these, there came the -tents or houses of the ordinary fighting men, the latter being little -huts, yet large enough, perhaps, for four or five to repose within. A -circle of chiefs' tents succeeded next to these, the sheafs of poles -gathered together at the top being decorated sometimes with banners, -sometimes with gaudy silken drapery, sometimes, alas! with human heads -from which the hair had been torn. That hair had another destination. -It was to decorate the interior of the tents--to be gloated over by -the savage chiefs within and by their squaws, or wives. In the middle -of all was--regardlessly of the health of the encampment--a tomb of -the chiefs, a horrid erection of wood in which the shrivelled remains -were laid side by side to the number of a dozen, their heads towards -the passers-by, their mummified bodies naked, and before them a wood -fire burning--perhaps to dispel any vapours. Thus they lay in the -exact interior of the camp, each one remaining there through the four -seasons and then being buried in the earth. And to guard over and -preserve them, as the savages thought, was a hideous painted figure of -wood, rudely carved, which they call Kyvash, or the God of the Dead. - -And now we were to learn what had been the amount of destruction done -to the homes where we had all dwelt so peacefully and happily -together; we of our party were to learn that which we had so much -longed to know, namely, what had happened to those of our friends and -neighbours who dwelt in and around Pomfret. For in that encampment we -met other prisoners like ourselves who had been brought away by the -detachments of the band who had stormed their houses. We saw, alas! -the best of our men captives in the hands of the savages. Seated on a -log outside a tent, his hands tied cruelly behind his back, I saw -Bertram Pringle, a fair-haired young man who was the leader of all the -diversions of our neighbourhood, and the best dancer as well as -sportsman for miles around. There, too, was Roger Clibourne, one of -our largest estate owners and wealthiest of planters; there was one of -the Byrds of Westover (he being sadly wounded) as well as several -rough backwoodsmen, who must have fought hard ere they surrendered; -and many other owners and white servants were also prisoners. But, I -thanked God, there were no other women but ourselves, and my cousin -was not, as the wretch Roderick had said, amongst them. - -"Why, Joice," said Roger, calling to me as I passed by with the -others, "why, my dear"--we had grown up boy and girl together--"this -is, indeed, a sorry sight. Oh! Mr. Kinchella, could you not put a -bullet in their brains or a knife to their throats ere you let Joice -and your sweetheart be captured and brought here." - -"Hush! Hush!" I said to him, pausing on my way, as we all did, our -guards making no resistance. "Hush! Indeed, I think we are in no such -great danger. Anuza, the chief, who stormed my house, has found out -that their great medicine man, who was undoubtedly the instigator of -the attack upon us all, is none other than that horrid villain, -Roderick St. Amande." - -"Roderick St. Amande!" the others, including the backwoodsmen, -exclaimed, "Roderick St. Amande. Nay, 'tis impossible." - -"Indeed, indeed 'tis true. We of our party have all seen him and -spoken with him; nay, heard him gloat over all the horrors of the -attack and threaten us with what awaits us here. But, but--the chief -heard him too, and also heard Mary denounce him, and, I think, he -meditates worse against him than any of us because he hath deceived -them so." - -"Is your chief powerful enough to do thus?" Bertram Pringle asked. -"Ours, our captor, is, we have heard, the head of the whole tribe and -the greatest friend of their medicine man. Suppose he believes not -what your conqueror tells him?" - -"Then," said Buck, "we will give him some proofs that shall make him -believe. I can do any trick Mr. Roderick St. Amande can, either with -cards, palming, or what not, and if they place faith in him for any of -his hanky-panky, hocus-pocus passes, why, they'll fall down and -worship me! I wasn't the conjurer at many a booth for nothing before I -took to more elevating pursuits." - -And now the lads asked us how we had parted from that other one of -whom I thought hourly and only--though they knew it not!--and when I -told them how I had left him wounded and bleeding their sorrow was -great. But they said that, if the Indians did not proceed to any -violence towards us, a rescue must be attempted before long, since -every other hamlet and town would know by now what had befallen us of -Pomfret, and doubtless an expedition would soon set out to seek for -us. - -So we passed on to where our guards led us, namely, to a great tent -made of hay and straw, and then we composed ourselves for the night -and, after Mr. Kinchella had said a prayer for our safety in which we -most fervently joined, got what sleep we might. But once during that -night I woke and then screamed aloud, for as I turned my eyes to the -opening of the tent I saw, gazing in, the horrid face of Roderick St. -Amande, and his own eyes gloating over us. But at my scream, and -almost ere the others were aroused, the face was withdrawn, and -nothing more was seen at the opening but the figure of the Indian -sentry outside as he paced to and fro in the moonlight, and nought -heard but the soft fall of his moccasined feet on the earth, or -sometimes the cry of an Indian child or dog. - -That the next day was to be one of great importance was easy to see -from the moment it dawned. Towards a belt of pines which grew upon the -rise of the hills there were already proceeding groups of Indians, -some bearing in their hands the skins of animals and blankets dyed -divers colours; banners, too, were being affixed to the trees as -though in preparation for some great feast. We noted, also, that many -of the Indian women and maidens--with, alas! amongst them some girls -and women who were not Indian born, but white women--were finely -dressed as though for a gala. As we ate of the food which our guards -brought us--though three, at least, of our little band had no appetite -for it--the door was darkened by the form of Anuza, and, a moment -later, his great body stood within the tent, while we observed that -he, too, was now arrayed in all the handsome trappings that bespoke -the rank of a great chief. His short-sleeved tunic of dressed -deer-skin was ornamented with the polished claws of his totem, the -Grizzly Bear; on the shield he bore were the same emblems; even his -long black hair, twisted up now like a coronet beneath his plumed -bonnet of feathers, was decorated with one claw set in gold. In his -wampum belt, fringed and tasselled with bright shells, he carried a -long knife and a pair of pistols richly inlaid with silver and -ivory-won, doubtless, in some earlier foray with our race--at his back -hung down a bleached bearskin cloak to which, by a sash or loop, were -suspended his tomahawk and bow. As I gazed on him I understood, if I -had never understood before, what our forefathers meant when sometimes -they spoke of the Indian as a splendid, or a noble, savage. - -Behind him, borne upon a litter by two other Indians, came one the -like of whom I had never seen, an old Indian of surely a hundred years -of age; his eyes gone and, in their place, nought but the white balls -to be observed. His head, with still some few sparse hairs left on it, -bent on his breast, his hands were shrivelled like unto those of the -mummies of which I have read, and his body, even on so hot a day as -this, was enveloped in a great bearskin adorned with the gay plumage -of many bright-coloured birds. - -As Anuza strode into the tent, or Wigwam, leaving the old man outside -in the sun, he made a grave salutation to us all; but it seemed -directed to me more especially, and then he said: - -"Peace be with you all. And, white maiden," he went on, addressing me, -while to my surprise he bent his knee before me, "though death awaits -you and yours to-day, yet it shall not claim you while the Bear is by. -Nor, had I known that which he, my father, has told me, should the -hand of Anuza have been raised against you or your house, or aught -within it." While, as he spoke, I gazed wonderingly at him, not -knowing what his words might mean. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -DENOUNCED - - -Yet the explanation or meaning, when it came, was simple indeed. Many -years before, nay, more than fifty, when my grandfather, Mark -Bampfyld, owned and ruled at Pomfret Manor, his wife strolling in the -woods had met and succoured a wounded Indian who had been shot at by -some other colonist and had dragged himself to where she found him. -Now, at that time the Indian was hated in all Virginia more, perhaps, -than he had ever been before or since, for the memory of how he and -his had been our firm allies was still fresh in all men's memories, so -that their new enmity to us was even more bitterly felt than at any -other period. To succour an Indian, therefore, at this period, was to -do a thing almost incredible, a thing not to be believed of one -colonist by another, and, by the Indian himself, to be regarded as -something that could never by any chance occur. Yet this thing my -grandmother, Rebecca, had done; she had tended and nursed that -savage, who was none other than the father of Anuza now without our -tent--himself, also Anuza the Bear--she had sent him forth a well man -to return to his own people, and, ere going, he had vowed to her, -placing his fingers on the scars of his wounds to give his vows -emphasis, that none of his blood or race should ever again injure -those of hers. - -Yet now was I--who had never heard aught of this before--a captive in -his son's hands. - -"But, oh! white maiden," said Anuza the younger, while the old, -sightless man nodded his head gravely, "had I known aught of this, I -would have smitten off my hands or slain myself ere harm should have -come to you or yours; yea, even before a tree on your lands should -have been hurt or so much as a dog injured. And neither you nor these -others are captives to me longer, though I doubt if, even now, -Senamee, who is chief over us all, will let you go in peace. For he is -as the puma who has the lamb within its jaws when an enemy is in his -hands, and he hearkens to the medicine man, who your sister says is -but a cheat, and who hates you all." - -"But," said Mr. Kinchella and Mary together, "that cheat can be -exposed; surely if he is proved no medicine man but only a poor -trickster, the chief will not hearken to him." - -"Senamee loves much the blood of his enemies," Anuza repeated; "I know -not if that exposure will save you. It is more to be feared that he -will sacrifice both him and you." - -"And can he, this chief, Senamee, do this even when you, a chief, and -your father a chief also, desire to save us?" - -"He can do it in one way only," the Bear replied. "He can only do it -if I refuse my sanction, since I of all the tribe stand next to him, -by slaying me in fight." - -"And can he slay you?" exclaimed Mary, as her eyes fell on his -splendid proportions. "Is there any of your tribe who can overthrow -you?" - -The Indian is but human after all, and on Anuza's usually calm and -impassive face there came, it seemed to me, a look of gratification at -the praise of his great form from a handsome woman. - -"I know not," he replied, "whether he can slay me, but this I know, -that he must do so ere harm comes to those who are of the tribe of her -who succoured him," pointing to his father. "That must he do, for -already I am accursed of the god of my tribe in that I have lifted my -hand against one who draws her life through another who pitied and -cared for my father. To remove that curse, I must hold you and yours -free from further harm." - -The old Anuza, sitting there in the sun, nodded his head and whispered -some words to himself in Indian, which we thought to mean agreement -with his son, wherefore I said: - -"But why, Anuza, why, if this is so, did you take part in and -encourage this attack upon our village, upon our houses and our lives; -why, if thus you felt towards us?" - -"My father knew not our war trail," replied the chief, "he knew not -which way we took our course; he knew not where that false priest, the -medicine man, led us. And, oh! white woman," he said casting himself -at my feet, "oh! you, who rule over your tribe and these your kin and -servants, give your pardon to me who sinned unknowing what I did, and -believe--believe, I say, that while I can shelter you harm shall not -come near to you. I, the Bear, who has never lied, promise that." - -I bade him rise, telling him that we would believe in him and trust to -him for safety, when in our ears there arose the most horrid din, the -clanging of spears on shields, the firing of matchlocks--with which -the Indians were well armed, and which they had been taught to use in -the days when they dwelt at peace with us--the howling of the swarms -of dogs that were in the encampment, and many other noises. - -"Hark," exclaimed Anuza, "'tis Senamee who goes to take his seat and -to commence the tortures"--we started--"but fear not. To you harm -shall not come. But you must go before him now. It is best so. Come, -and fear not." - -Thus we went forth escorted by the Bear and those of his guards with -him, and so we reached the plantation of pines that grew upon the -mountain slope. Senamee, the chief of all the tribe, was already -seated on a great stone rudely carved into the shape of a chair, -while, by his side, we noticed similar ones made of wood, over all of -which were thrown skins and blankets. He it was, we learnt afterwards, -who had directed the principal attack upon the village, and who had -stormed the homes of the Pringles, Clibornes, and Byrds. These were -standing before him, bound, but looking defiant and gallant as they -cast their eyes round on all the Indian warriors as well as the women -and children, and, even from their servants and some of the rough -backwoodsmen who were also captured, no sign of fear was forthcoming. -Indeed, fierce and dreaded as the Indian was by the colonist and his -dependants, there was always in the minds of the latter a tinge of -contempt mixed with that dread. That contempt was born, perhaps, of -the feeling that, in the end, our race invariably overbore theirs; -that gradually their lands had become ours, even if by just and fair -bargain. Also that, subtle, crafty, and cruel as the savage might be -and dreadful when attacking from his ambush, in all open encounter he -was no match for the men in whose veins ran the good, brave blood of -their old English ancestors. - -"You come late, Anuza," exclaimed Senamee as, striding through the -assembled crowd, the Bear made his way to a seat opposite the chief -and motioned to us to follow him, while to Mary and to me he signed -that we should seat ourselves on the fur-covered bench beside him. -"You come late." Then, observing the other's action to us and our -taking the indicated seat, he said, "What means this, and why are the -pale face women honoured in the presence of their conquerors? They are -prisoners here, not guests to sit by our sides." - -"At this moment, oh! Senamee, seek to know nothing," replied Anuza, -"nor ask why the pale face women are seated by my side. Later on all -shall be told you." We saw a look of astonishment appear on the face -of all the other captives at this answer, though it but confirmed in -part that which we had told them overnight, and we saw also a dark -scowl come on the painted face of Senamee, while he muttered to -himself, "'Twill not please the Child of the Sun who is on his way -here," but he said no more. - -That the person so termed, the wretched impostor, Roderick St. Amande, -was now on his way we soon learnt. Slowly through the assembled crowd -of warriors, women and others, there came now a dozen or more young -Indian girls habited in fawn-skin tunics reaching to their knees, -with, rudely embroidered on them, golden and silver suns. These were -the priestesses who assisted at whatever rites and ceremonies their -master chose to perform, and were always in attendance on him, as we -learnt hereafter. Then, next to them--who, as they passed, sang or -crooned a most dismal dirge, though doubtless 'twas meant as a hymn of -praise---there came his guards, picked braves whose duty it was to be -always near him. Behind them, came he himself, walking slowly but with -his head erect and casting on all the white captives a look at once -triumphant and scornful. Yet, as he passed by Anuza to enter the -circle, he started with surprise, a surprise bred doubtless of seeing -us seated by that chief's side and also from noticing that, amongst -all the Indians who were now prostrating themselves reverently before -him, the Bear alone did not do so but sat calm and unmoved. - -For a moment only he stopped to gaze on us all seated and standing -there, yet 'twas long enough for him to see the contempt on the faces -of Mary and myself and Mr. Kinchella, the look of cold indifference on -that of the Bear, and the mocking grins on the faces of Buck and his -companions. Then, going on to the seat reserved for him by the side of -Senamee, he sat himself in it and whispered a few words to that chief. -But the warrior only shook his head and seemed unable to find any -answer to the questions the other was undoubtedly asking him. Next, he -spake to one of his guards, who a moment afterwards ordered that all -in that place kept silence while the great medicine man, the true -Child of the Sun, addressed them, and on that silence being observed -he spake as follows: - -"Dogs and slaves of the Shawnee race and Doegs," such being his -gracious form of addressing them, "dogs and slaves whom the Great -Spirit has so favoured as to send me, the only true Child of the Sun, -to be your medicine man, chief orator, prophet, and civil ruler, hear -me. Owing to my counsel, inspired by my father, the Sun, you have -within the last few days achieved a great victory over the white -slaves who dwell to the east of these mountains. You have destroyed -their town and brought hither as prisoners those whom you have not -slain. This, since you are but red dogs and slaves, whom I account but -little better than the pale faces, you could never have done but for -my assistance, both in putting spells on your enemies and in seeking -the assistance of my father, the Sun." - -Here Buck burst into so strident a roar of laughter that Senamee -sprang to his feet and grasped his tomahawk, while he made as though -about to rush at the scoffer and slay him. But the impostor stopped -him, saying, "Heed him not; he is mad. And he is but the slave of the -white woman." Then, continuing, "This victory, I say, you could never -have obtained but for me, and therefore I call on you all, Shawnees -and Doegs, to fall down and prostrate yourselves at my feet and -worship me in this our day of triumph." - -All, with the exception of the Bear, rose to do so, but as they were -about to cast themselves to the earth the wretch suddenly stayed them -by a motion of his hand, and exclaimed, "But, hold. Ere you do so let -the white women who I have set apart as my own prize come hither to -me. They are mine, I have chosen them; let them come hither and kneel -at my feet as my handmaidens. Come, I say." - -As we, Mary and I, made no motion to do his bidding but only turned -our eyes in appeal towards Anuza, Roderick St. Amande said some words -to two of his guards, who at once crossed the open circle to where we -sat, evidently with the view of seizing us and carrying us to him. - -But as they approached near to us, Anuza, still sitting calmly, said: - -"Hold! Come no nearer. These pale faces are my captives, and shall -remain by me." - -The two warriors turned in astonishment towards the impostor, as -though asking for further commands, but ere he could give any--and we -now saw on his face a look that seemed born half of rage and half of -terror--the Bear rose from his seat and striding forth to them, while -he grasped his tomahawk, said: - -"Back to your places at once, or I will slay you here before me. Back, -I say, and obey my orders, not his." - -His appearance was so terrible that these two men, although themselves -splendid savages of great size and build, shrank away from him and -retreated towards their master. As for that master, his face was -strange to see. He screamed at Anuza, calling him "Indian dog," -"accursed one," and many other names, and stamped his foot and waved -his arms in the air, as though invoking something dreadful on his -head. Yet was it plain to see that, through all his assumed power of -superiority, he was indeed alarmed at Anuza's conduct and knew not -what to make of it. - -But now Senamee interfered, saying, while he directed fierce glances -at the other: - -"Anuza, son of the Bear, what means this conduct? Has madness entered -into your brain that thus you revolt against him whom the Sun God has -sent to succour us and to give us power over all our enemies, or has -your heart turned black with ingratitude towards the great medicine -man who has so long ruled over our destinies, who has made our crops -to thrive and our cattle to increase tenfold? And have you forgotten -that to him we owe blessings for the victory over the pale faces in -the first great attack we have made on them for now many moons?" - -"For that," replied the other, still standing before the assembled -crowd, "I owe him curses more than blessings; for it was in this pale -face woman's house--a house now almost destroyed by me and my -followers--that, many moons ago, my father was succoured and healed of -the wounds he had received, and so brought back to life and to his -tribe. And for that I have raised my hand to destroy her dwelling and -to slay those who serve her! Shall I, therefore, not rather curse than -bless him?" - -There was a murmur among the crowd--a murmur almost of dismay and -horror. For to the Indian, no matter of what tribe or race, and no -matter what other wicked or evil passions may abide in his heart, one -evil sin stands out as ever to be abhorred by them--the sin of -ingratitude; and he who boasts that he never forgives a wrong boasts -also that he never forgets a kindness. So it was not strange that -those assembled should be much stirred by the words of the Bear. The -villain heard the muttering of the rest, as he could not help but hear -it; but, assuming still a defiant and overbearing air, he addressed -them, saying: - -"Granted that you speak truth, what is that to me? How should I know -that many moons ago this woman's people were good to your father?" and -his horrid sneering face looked more evil than before. - -"How should you know--you who call yourself the Child of the Sun?" -said Anuza, advancing some paces nearer to him and with his arm -outstretched. "How should you know? Have you not then told us often, -us 'the poor dogs of the Shawnee tribe,' that you know all that has -ever passed or happened, and that there is nought on the land, nor in -the skies, nor in the waters that you know not of? 'Tis strange that -this you should not know." - -"'Fore Gad!" whispered Buck, "the Injin's hit him fair." - -So, indeed, it appeared the others around thought; and even Senamee, -who hated Anuza for being so near him in power, turned towards -Roderick with a glance that seemed to bid him answer this question. - -But ere he could do so the Bear went on again, while the villain -writhed at his words. - -"Yet, oh! my kinsmen and brother warriors, if I have done this thing -unwittingly, and with no knowledge of goodness shown to my father by -those of her race in far-off days, what shall be thought of one who, -also having dwelt under the white woman's roof, has yet turned and -rent her? What be thought of one who, coming as a slave to her -father's house, was yet well tended; who sat at meat in that house, -ay, ate of their food and was clothed with their garments, and, in -repayment, assailed first the woman's honour and next, after nursing -warm his hate for many moons, sought to destroy her and hers, even to -taking from her her house, and her life, and the life of those she -loved?" - -The impassable Indian blood was roused at last; like the mountain -snow, that stirs not till the sun fires it and causes it to burst -forth a torrent overwhelming all, it burst forth now and, with many -cries, all in that assembly, excepting Senamee and those of his -following, demanded to know what man, what snake, had done this thing? - -"What snake!" exclaimed Anuza, "what snake! I will tell you, my -brethren. The snake that has also warmed itself by our fires too long, -and who, as it has turned and stung the white woman, will in time to -come turn and sting us if we guard not against it. The snake who has -cheated us and made us believe in him as a god when he himself was but -a pale face and a slave of pale faces; the snake who has dwelt among -us; the cheat and false medicine man--the Child of the Sun!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -'TWIXT BEAR AND PANTHER - - -Ominous indeed were all the faces around us now. For the denunciation -was terrible; if true, it could mean nothing but death for Roderick -St. Amande. And that an awful death. Near the circle there stood a -Cross which we who dwelt in the colonies knew well the meaning and use -of. That holy symbol, so out of place amongst a band of savages, was -not reared here with reverence, but because, being the token of the -white man's faith, the token to which he bowed his knee and poured out -his soul, their devilish minds had devised it as the instrument of his -execution. And white men, we knew from all hearsay and gossip of those -who had escaped, had often suffered on the cross; there was not an -encampment of Shawnee Indians, of Manahoacs, of Powhattans, -Nanticokes, or Doegs--all of which tribes surrounded Virginia--in -which there was not one erected for their torture and execution. Only, -in those executions their tortures and their sufferings were greater -far than any which had ever been devised outside the colonies. Those -whose fate led them to these Crosses suffered not only crucifixion, -but worse, far worse. As they hung upon them, their poor hands and -feet nailed to the beams, while their bare bodies were tortured by all -the insects that abound in the region, they served also as marks for -the arrows and, sometimes, the bullets of their savage foes. Happy -indeed, were those to whom a vital wound was dealt early in their -suffering, happy those who died at once and did not linger on, perhaps -from one day to the other, expiring slowly amidst the jeers of those -amongst whom they had fallen. - -Such was one form of revenge practised by the Indian on the white man, -and, alas! there were many others. There was death by fire and death -by burying alive, the body being in the earth, the head outside, a -prey for the vultures to swoop down upon and to tear to pieces, -beginning with the eyes; there was the death of thirst, when the -victim sat gasping in the hot sun while all around him, but beyond his -reach, were placed gourds of cool water. - -It was to such deaths as these that we had feared our men might come -if they fell into the hands of the enemy--the women, be it said, were -never subjected to such torture, there were _other_ things reserved -for them--it was one of such deaths as these that Roderick St. Amande -might now fear if the band believed the denunciation of Anuza. - -That they did believe it seemed not open to doubt. They muttered and -gesticulated, they hurled opprobrious names at him, they even beat -their breasts and bemoaned the disgrace which had fallen on them by -being deceived by one who had been a "slave." This, to these free, -untrammelled creatures of the forest, seemed the worst of all, far -worse even than their having been tricked into believing that he, who -was nothing but a poor mortal like themselves, could be a god and the -Child of the great Sun God. - -Senamee alone seemed to still believe in the villain; he alone at this -moment raised his voice on behalf of their denounced priest. Rising to -his feet, while his cruel features were convulsed with passion and the -great scars upon his face stood out strangely beneath the paint upon -it, he addressed the members of his tribe thus: - -"Children of my race, warriors of our various bands, listen to me and -be not swayed too easily by the voice of Anuza the Bear, the chief who -ever opposes me and gnaws at his heart-strings because of my rule and -authority." Here the Bear cast a disdainful glance at him, while he -went on, "Easy enough are these charges to be made; less easy, -however, is the proof of them. Because the Bear has learned now that -he has attacked the house of one by whose kin his father was -succoured, he has readily lent his ear to the tales told him by the -pale faces, all of whom are liars, as we and those who have gone -before us know only too well and to our cost. Yet, against such lying -tales let us remember what the Child of the Sun has done for us--even -before our own eyes, which do not deceive us. He has brought our -cattle from the mouth of death, he has caused all our herds to -increase tenfold, he has blessed our lands and, where before naught -but the serpent and the wolf could live, has made the maize and the -corn to grow. Yet we, but mortal men, could do naught like unto this. -And has he not ruled the heavens! Rain to refresh the earth has come -to us at his bidding; when the moon and the sun have disappeared -before our eyes, without cloud to obscure them, he has conjured them -back again by waving his hands." - -"It requires no sharp eye," muttered Mr. Kinchella to us, "to tell -when an eclipse is drawing to an end. If he could have foretold its -coming it would have been more wonderful." - -"He has made trees and shrubs," went on Senamee, "to grow before our -eyes, and objects he held in his hands to vanish away into the air." - -"Yes, curse him," now muttered Buck, who, unhappily, rarely spoke -without an oath, "I taught him to. I would they had looked under his -thumb or up his sleeve." - -"And, above all, is it not he who bade us go forward on the warpath -towards the home of the pale faces, telling us success should come to -us, as it has truly come?" - -Once more the Indians were roused, but this time it was towards the -adoption of the chief's views. Hating ingratitude as they did, they -seemed to think now--judging by the ejaculations of many of them--that -there was danger of their testifying it to the medicine chief by -turning so suddenly against him. Poor, ignorant savages! 'Twas easy to -see that they believed, as doubtless their chief believed, that to -this mean creature was owing the fact that their crops and their -cattle had thrived so. They could not guess, their simple, unformed -minds could not tell them, that it was to their own exertions, -suggested by him, and not to his mumblings and gibberish over those -crops and cattle, that their increase and fatness was due. - -But no sooner had Senamee finished than Buck, who could be neither -repressed nor subdued, lifted up his voice and, addressing him, -exclaimed, "Sir! Chief! Listen to me a spell. What this fellow has -done I taught him when he was a bought slave, as I was a transported -one, to this our young lady here, whom you call the pale face woman. -And what he can do I can do better, as I'll show you if you'll give me -the chance. You say he can make objects vanish? Why, look here"; with -which he picked up three stones from the earth, placed them on his -open palm, clenched his hand and blew upon it, and, opening it again, -showed to the astonished surrounders that it was empty. Then he -approached an Indian squaw standing near, and putting out his finger -drew each stone one by one from her long, matted hair, while her dusky -skin turned white and she shrunk away from him muttering. Then he -continued: - -"Is that it? Well, 'tis simple enough--there hain't a conjuror or Jack -Pudding at Bartholomew Fair, nor any other, that can't do better nor -that, and they ain't children o' the Sun, nor more am I. No! not no -more than _he_ is"--pointing his finger at the now trembling Roderick. -"Children of the Sun, ha! ha! children born in a ditch more like; or -in a prison." Whereupon, after laughing again, he stooped down once -more and, seizing some larger stones, began to hurl them in the air -one after the other and catch them as they descended. Yet, when he had -caught them all, his hands were empty. - -Doubtless the Indians understood not his strange jargon and his talk -about Bartholomew Fair. But they could witness his mysterious tricks, -at which, in truth, I was myself appalled, having never seen the like. -And while once more the simple savages veered round into denunciations -of Roderick St. Amande, muttering that he could be no god if this -other slave could do such things, and some of them turned Buck round -and made him show them his hands and open his mouth so that they might -see if the stones were there, Anuza rose again from his seat and spake -as follows: - -"Senamee, from you, a chief of the Shawnee tribe and of the noble -Manahoac blood also, have lies issued forth to-day. Nay, start not, -but hear me; I will maintain my words with my arm later. From you, I -say, have lies issued forth; nay, worse; not only were they lies, but -you knew that they were lies and yet coldly spake them." - -"I will kill you," hissed Senamee, "kill you with my own hand." - -"So be it," answered the other, "if you have the power, but the Bear -is not weak." "Lies," he went on, "lies knowingly told when you said -that I opposed you and was jealous of your rule and authority. For you -know well such words can have no truth in them. In my wigwam hang more -scalps than in yours, the scalps of Cherokees who dispute the -mountains with us, of Yamasees who dwell near unto the deep waters, of -Muskogees; ay, even of the fierce Southern Seminoles who dwell in the -tents of the blood-stained poles. And in my veins runs blood as pure -as yours, while I yield not to you as my ruler, but as my equal only, -except in years. But let this pass; later on you shall kill me or I -you. Now, there is other killing to be done. For not only has this -man," pointing to Buck, who was now showing some other tricks, truly -marvellous, to the Indians, "who is by his own word a slave, proved to -you that the jugglings of the false medicine man are no miracles, but -things which slaves can do; but also have I to add my word against -him. And, oh! my people," he said, turning round and addressing all -there, "you, my kinsmen and friends of the Shawnees, the Manahoac, and -the Doeg tribes, what will you say shall be done to the false priest, -the pale-faced slave, who has imposed on us, when I tell you all? When -I tell you that, in this white woman's house, I heard him speak of us -who have sheltered him and succoured him, as 'credulous red fools'--as -'credulous red fools,' those were his words. And more," he went on, -putting forth his arm with a gesture as though to stay the angry -murmurs that now arose, while Roderick St. Amande sat shaking with -fear in his seat, "the dark maiden here, the sister of the white -woman, denounced him to his face and before me, though he knew not I -heard. She taunted him with having had his lost ear smitten off by his -owner--the ear that he told us often his father, the Sun God, took -from him so that he should be less than he--oh! fools that we were to -believe it! And--and she called him 'thief' and 'lover of fire waters' -and 'cowardly, crawling dog'--think of it, oh! my kinsmen; the Shawnee -warriors and the Manahoacs and the Doegs to be imposed on by such as -this! A slave, a thief, a drunkard, a cowardly dog! Think of it! Think -of it! And for me, Anuza, worse, far worse than this, for at his -commands have I wrecked the house in which he who gave me life was -tended and succoured; at his commands have I made war on and injured -the child's child of her who succoured him." - -He paused a moment and looked round, his eye falling on the angry, -muttering crowd of savages of the three allied tribes; upon Roderick -St. Amande trembling there, making no defence and burying his face in -his mantle, from which he sometimes withdrew it to cast imploring -glances on Senamee. Senamee, who sat scowling on all about him while -his fingers clutched the great dagger in his wampum belt. Then Anuza -went on again, while the muttering of the crowd rose to yells, and -that crowd pressed forward ominously to where the unhappy victim sat. - -"For all this, my brethren, he must die. For the inoffensive blood he -has caused us to shed, he must die--for the lies he has told us, 'the -credulous red fools,' he must die--for all that he has done, he must -die. And there, upon the Cross which he himself selected as the death -to be dealt out to the white men, he shall die to-night." - -With a how! that was almost like to the dreaded war cry, they all -rushed at Roderick, while high above even the noise of their fierce -threats went forth a piercing shriek from their intended victim, who -clung to Senamee's arm, crying, "Save me, save me," in the Indian -tongue. - -That the chief would have dreamt of doing so--seeing that, since he -was head of all, he had been more fooled perhaps than any of them--had -it not been for the hatred and antagonism he bore to the Bear, none of -us who were present have ever been able to bring ourselves to believe. -Yet now, to the astonishment of all, both red and white, he did -actually intercede in his behalf. - -As the crowd surged up to where the wretch sat, men and women being -indiscriminately mixed, braves and warriors jostling their servants -and inferiors, while their gaily-bedecked wives--for this was to have -been a feast day--pushed against almost nude serving-women, the chief -sprang to his feet, threw one arm about Roderick St. Amande, and, -brandishing his tomahawk before their eyes, thundered forth an order -to them to desist. - -"Back!" he roared in his deep tones, "back, I say. What! is Senamee -dead already that others usurp his place and issue orders to his -people? Who is your chief? I, or Anuza, the rebel?" and he struck at -two or three of the foremost with his tomahawk as he spoke. - -"You are," they acknowledged, though with angry glances at him, "yet -shall not the false priest shelter himself behind your shield. We will -have his life in spite of you." - -"His life you shall have when we are sure of his guilt. At present we -have nothing but the word of Anuza, who has said I lie. But what if he -has lied himself?" - -"He has not lied," they called out. "He has not lied. Anuza never -lies. And his words are proved. The other slave of the white woman can -do more than he. He is no medicine priest. Give him to us that we may -slay him." - -"Not yet," answered Senamee. "Not yet. For ere I give him to you I am -about to prove Anuza to be a liar in spite of your belief." - -"How can you prove it?" they demanded, while Anuza himself stood -motionless, his eyes fixed on his rival. - -"My brethren and followers, you speak either like children who know -nothing or old men who have forgotten what once they knew. Anuza has -told me that I lie. To him I say the same thing. He lies. He lies out -of his spite and envy of me. And have you, oh! ye children or dotards, -forgotten how, when one of our race thinks thus of another, they -decide who is the truthful man and who the liar?" - -"We have not forgotten," they all exclaimed; "we have not forgotten. -It must be by the death of one or the other. Both cannot live." - -"It is well," Senamee exclaimed, "it is well. And of Anuza, the rebel, -and of me your chief, one of us must die by the hand of the other. As -that death is dealt out so shall it be decided what the fate of this -one is," pointing to the impostor shivering by his side. "If I defeat -the Bear he shall not suffer, for then it will be known that Anuza is -the liar and has wrongly accused him; if Anuza slays me then must you -do with the medicine chief as is his will. But," descending from his -seat and advancing towards where that warrior stood, "that he will -kill me I do not fear. Those of the house of Senamee dread not those -of the race of the crawling Bear." - -And then, advancing ever nearer unto Anuza until he stood close in -front of him, he made a defiant gesture before him and exclaimed: - -"Anuza, the time has come." - -While Anuza, returning his glance with equally contemptuous ones, -replied: - -"You have spoken well, Senamee. The time has come." - - - - - -PART III - -THE NARRATIVE OF -LORD ST. AMANDE CONTINUED - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE SHAWNEE TRAIL - - -He who has been stunned by a heavy blow comes to but slowly, and so it -was with me and slowly also my understanding and my memory returned, -while gradually my dazed senses began to comprehend the meaning of all -around me. I remembered at last why the handsome saloon in which my -beloved one, my sweet Joice, took ever such pride, should now resemble -the deck of a ship after a fierce sea fight more than a gentlewoman's -withdrawing-room. It dawned upon me minute by minute why the -harpsichord and spinet should both be shattered, the bright carpet -drenched and stained with blood, the window-frame windowless, with, by -it, a heap of dead, formed of red and white men and the mastiffs, and -why my own white silk waistcoat and steinkirk should be stained with -the same fluid. Nor was I, ere long, astonished to see the fontange -which Miss Mills had worn lying on the spinet, nor to perceive -O'Rourke seated by a table near me eating some bread and meat slowly -and in a ruminative manner, while he washed the food down with a -beaker of rum and water and shook his head sadly and meditatively all -the while. - -And so, in a moment, there came back to me all that happened but a -little time before, as I thought, and with a great shout I called to -him and asked him where my dear one was. - -The old adventurer sprang to his feet as I did so, and came towards me -muttering that he thought for an instant that the red devils were -coming back again; and then, kneeling down by me, he asked me how I -did and if I thought I had taken any serious hurt. - -"Though well I know, my lord," he said, "that 'twas nothing worse than -a severe crack o' the skull; yet, being a poor chirurgeon, I could not -tell how deep the crack was. But since you can speak and understand, -and know me, it cannot be so serious. Try, my lord, if you can rise." - -Taking his arm I made the attempt, succeeding fairly. But when on my -feet I still felt dizzy, while a great nausea came over me, so that I -was obliged to seat myself at the table and to observe O'Rourke's -counsel to partake of some of the liquor he had by him, if not some of -the bread and meat. - -"'Tis fortunate," he said, "that I could induce those squealing -negroes to come forth after all the others had gone, or else----" - -"Gone!" I exclaimed. "Who are gone?" And then, in an instant, perhaps -owing to the draught of liquor, I remembered that the others were not -here; that, above all, my dear one was not by my side. "Gone!" I -exclaimed again; "they are gone! Where to?" - -"With the savages," he replied. "They had no other resource." - -"Therefore let us follow them at once. With the savages! And they are -two defenceless women. With the savages! And I lying there like a log -unable to help them! Oh, Joice! Oh, Joice, my darling!" - -"Nay," said O'Rourke, "distress not yourself so much. While you lay -senseless with that fair young thing's arms around you much happened -that you cannot dream of. Much! Much! Indeed such marvellous things -that even I, who have seen many surprising occurrences, could not -conceive----" - -"In heaven's name out with them!" I exclaimed. "Man, have you not -tortured me enough already in my life and been pardoned for it, that -you must begin again. Out with your tale, I say, if you would not -drive me to distraction." - -He cast a sad look towards me which, with my recollection of all he -had done last night on our behalf, made me to regret speaking so to -him even under such pressure. Then, after saying there was no further -wish in his heart, God He knew, to ever do aught to me but make -atonement, he commenced his narrative of all that had occurred while I -lay senseless and he lay apparently so. - -What a narrative it was! What a story! To think of that vile Roderick -being there in command of all the others; to think of that spiteful, -crawling wretch having at last got those two innocent creatures into -his power and able to do what he would with them! Oh! 'twas too -horrible--too horrible to think upon. Nay, I dare not think, I could -only prepare for immediate action. - -"We must follow them," I said. "I must follow them at once, even if -the Indians tear me to pieces as I enter their midst. And what matter -if they do? 'Twill be best so if she, my own darling, has become their -prey. O'Rourke, for heaven's sake cease eating and drinking, and lend -me your assistance." - -"That will I cheerfully," he replied, "and if they have but left a -brace of nags in the stables we will be a dozen leagues on our way ere -nightfall. But as to eating and drinking, well--well! I am too old a -campaigner of all kinds not to take my rations when they fall in my -way. And you, too, my lord, a sailor, should know 'tis bad to go -a-fighting on an empty stomach. Even Corporal John, who loved better -to pouch the ducats than to provision the army, always sent his men -into battle with their stomachs full." - -"But every moment is precious--every instant. Think of the girls in -the hands of those ruthless savages, in the hands of my villainous -cousin." - -"Ay, I do think on't. Yet will I wager all my hopes of future -pardon--heaven knows I stand in need of it--that the girls are safe -enough. Have I not told you that the great Indian, the gigantic chief, -heard all. All! He heard Mistress Mills denounce your cousin, and he -heard him call all the tribe superstitious or ignorant fools, or words -of a like import. And, what's more, he knew that neither you nor I -were dead, nor like to die, and yet he left us here unharmed. My lord, -I tell you," he continued, slapping down the bowl he had just emptied, -"that no harm is coming to those young maids, nor do I think to any of -the other prisoners. And more I tell you also, the one who will come -worst out of this fray will be your cousin Roderick." - -I would have answered him and said how devoutly I trusted such might -be the case, when we heard a clatter in the courtyard behind and the -shoutings of many men, and voices all talking at once, some -exclaiming, "At least they've left this house standing." "What of the -women folk?" "What of Mistress Bamfyld?" and so forth. And then, as we -rushed to the back windows, I recognised many of the other residents -of the place whose acquaintance I possessed, with, at their head, her -cousin Gregory. - -"Where is Joice?" he called out as he dismounted, seeing me. "Where is -she? Is she safe? Yet she must be since you and this other gentleman -are here alive." - -It took not long to tell them all, nor to learn that which had -befallen all the other houses and manors around. Some, we learnt, were -burnt to the ground; some were spared simply because they were so well -defended that the Indians had drawn off at daybreak without achieving -any victory; at some every inhabitant had been killed even to the -women and children; at others every creature had escaped. Many, too, -were the deeds of daring that had been done on this night of horror. -Women had stoutly helped their husbands, brothers, and sons in -fighting for their homes, one woman having killed near a score -of the Indians with her own musket. Another, who was alone in her -house--her husband being away at the newly re-constructed town of -Richmond--having none about her but her babes and some worthless -negroes, also defended her house both skilfully and valorously. She -appeared at different windows dressed in her husband's clothes, -changing the wig, or the coat, or other garments as she passed from -one room to another, so that the savages were led to think that the -house was full of men. She shouted orders to imaginary servants and -friends as though they were there to assist her, and every time she -fired she brought down her man so that, by daybreak, her little house -was of those saved. And this was but one of the many gallant actions -performed that night which I cannot here stop to narrate. - -All who had now ridden into the courtyard of my dear one's house were -there with but one impulse to stir them. That impulse was revenge and -the rescue of the many prisoners whom they knew to have been carried -off. Yet, when they heard that Joice was gone--who amongst all the -girls in that part of the colony was, perhaps, the most beloved--and, -with her, Miss Mills, that impulse was stirred more deeply still, so -that when Gregory, addressing them, said: - -"Gentlemen, she is my cousin, as you know, and, with Miss Mills, is -the only woman captured; therefore must I beg that the leadership of -this party is given to me," they willingly accorded him his desire. - -But this I could not permit, so I, too, made a speech to them, saying: - -"Yet must I put in my claim against Mr. Haller. Mistress Bampfyld is, -indeed, his cousin, but to me she is more--she is my promised wife. -Therefore, no matter who heads this party, I alone must go as the -chief seeker after her. I would have saved her with my life last night -had it been granted me to do so; I must claim the right to rescue her -now, or to die in attempting it." - -"Your promised wife!" poor Gregory said, looking mournfully at me. -"Oh, Joice! Oh, Joice!" - -But he alone was the one who did not heartily receive my statement, -all the others shouting lustily "for the future Lady St. Amande," and -saying that none was so worthy of such an honour as she. - -"Nay," I said, "nay. 'Tis she who honours me by giving me her love, -and therefore must I be the first to risk my life for her." - -So it was agreed that we should set forth at once on the trail, there -being many skilful trappers and hunters in the party who could take it -up as easily as an Indian himself, while, for commander, there should -be no one, each doing his best with the knowledge he possessed of the -savages' habits. Of this knowledge I myself had none, yet was I -recognised as the one most to be considered because I was the -affianced husband of Joice, the "Virginian Rose," as I had heard her -called ere now. - -It needs not that I should set down aught that befel us on the -expedition; I know now that my love has written a description of the -journey she made. Nor is it necessary that I tell all that O'Rourke -narrated to us of the arrival of Roderick St. Amande on the scene of -slaughter after I was struck senseless, for that, too, you know. But, -as he informed us of all that had transpired at that time, and as he -told us that, had not it been for this execrable villain, there could -be little doubt that Pomfret and all the countryside round would have -been left as secure from attack by the Indians as it had been hitherto -left for many years, the rage of all in our party was supreme and -terrible. - -"I hope," said one of the Pringles, uncle to the young man now a -prisoner, as I learnt, "I hope that, if the gigantic chief you speak -of is going to wreak his vengeance on the scoundrel, I may be in some -way witness of it." - -"And I! And I!" exclaimed several others. "If we could see that, or if -they would but deliver him back into our hands, we would almost -forgive them all that they have done for our houses and families." - -Travelling quickly, urging the poor beasts that they lent us onwards -as much as possible, walking by their sides to relieve them, and -carrying sometimes the saddles ourselves so that they might have -greater ease, we reached the spur of hills to which the trail had led -us on the morning of the third day after the raid on Pomfret. Thus, as -we knew afterwards, by not sleeping at night, or by sleeping only for -an hour or so at a time, we had arrived at the very period when the -exposure of Roderick St. Amande took place. - -That we had proceeded with caution you may be sure. One would as soon -put their head in the lion's mouth as approach an Indian encampment -without due care. Our horses had by this time been left behind, -tethered in a glade and with their heads enveloped in blankets so that -they should not neigh, and one by one the whole of our party, which -consisted of some forty persons, crept slowly round the bluff of the -mountain, leaving the encampment to what I, as a sailor, may describe -as the leeward. Our plan, suggested by an old colonist who had been -engaged in fighting and contending with Indians and wild animals since -far back into the days when William of Orange ruled, was to creep -round this bluff, to ascend it a little, and then, from the elevation, -to look down upon the Indians' town and concoct our method of attack. -And, to the surprise of those who understood the Indian method of -warfare, this we were enabled to do without being discovered. We -encountered no outposts, such as these savage warriors invariably -throw out in a circle round their encampment. We saw no naked breast -or plumed head of Indian sentry gleaming through the pines and -sassafras, laurels and sumachs; no hideously painted face glaring at -us from behind the muscadine vines or maple trees that grew in rich -profusion at the mountain's base, ere its owner launched his poisoned -arrow at us. The reason was, as we learnt later, that none in that -encampment believed that the white avengers could travel twice as fast -as they themselves had travelled. None believed there could possibly -be a pale face within twenty miles of their town; and, more, there -was that taking place in their midst which was enough to distract even -the wary Indian from his duties of watchfulness. - -What was happening we ourselves saw a few moments later. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -AS FOEMEN FIGHT - - -It was when we had climbed the spur, or bluff, one by one, crawling -like Indians or snakes ourselves, and when we lay prone and gazing -down upon the open space in the encampment that we saw that which -astonished us so. - -This it was. - -In the middle of that open space there stood, or rather fought, two -men, each contending for the other's life. Each also was a splendid -example of the Indian race, great in height, muscular and sinewy; yet -the one who seemed the younger of the two was the tallest and the best -favoured, the elder having a fierce and cruel face. Both wielded that -dreadful instrument, the tomahawk, the weapon that, while so small and -harmless-looking, is, in the hands of those accustomed to its use, so -deadly; both were bare from the waist upwards, their breasts painted -with emblems or devices--a bear on one, a panther on the other. Yet -more dreadful, perhaps, than to know that this was a combat to the -death, was to see the manner in which the struggle took place. It was -no battle of blow against blow, of one blow struck only to be warded -off and another given; it was a fight in which craft was opposed to -craft and skill to skill, such as no Italian swordsman perhaps knew -better how to exhibit. Round and round what once would have been -called the lists, or, as we now term it, the arena, those two stole -after each other, first one creeping like a tiger at his foe and then -his opponent doing the same; while, as they came within striking -distance, the tomahawk would rise in the attacker's hand only to sink -again as its wielder recognised that it must surely be skilfully -parried or fall ineffectually. It was weird, horrible--nay, -devilish--to see these two great types of humanity creeping at one -another like tigers, yet never meeting in a great shock, as one might -well have looked for. - -But those below who sat there caused us as much surprise and agitation -as did these combatants. There I saw my sweet Joice with, on her fair -face, the greatest agitation depicted while she watched every movement -of the contending foemen, her excitement being intense as the one who -bore the emblem of the bear advanced as though to strike the other, -and her look of disappointment extreme when he drew back foiled. What -did it mean? What did it portend? - -And there, too, was Mary Mills, her hand in Kinchella's as they sat -side by side, while on both their faces was the same eager look, the -same evident desire for the victory of the younger champion; the same -look of regret when he was forced to draw back. But, more marvellous -even than this, was what we further saw, yet could not comprehend. -_All_ in the crowd of spectators, save one who sat huddled on a great -chair or bench, his face covered with a mantle from which he peeped -furtively, seemed possessed with the same desire as they; all their -sympathy was with him who bore the emblem of the bear. It was so with -the dusky warriors who watched every cat-like footstep that the -antagonists took; so with the humbler Indians round; so with the -richly-bedizened Indian women, whom we deemed the wives or squaws of -the braves, and so with the almost nude Indian girls, servants -probably. And with all the other white people it was equally the -same. Buck and Mr. Pringle, and Mr. Byrd, as well as the other -prisoners--though none seemed like prisoners, being unshackled and -quite free--applauded and shouted in English fashion as the younger -warrior attacked the elder. One would have thought the former was -their dearest friend! They winced when the elder attacked in his turn, -and looked black and anxious if for a moment the fight seemed to go -against the Bear. Strange! all were for him--all; Indians, white -people, even my own dear sweetheart and her friends, Mary and -Kinchella--all, all, excepting that one shrouded, unknown creature who -sat apart by himself. Who could he be? What did it mean? O'Rourke was -able to inform me. - -When he had told me that the Indian who was the desired victor of all -who regarded the combat was the one who had been the chief in command -of the attack on my sweet one's house, and had heard Roderick St. -Amande not only exposed by Miss Mills but also by his own tongue, he -said: - -"And, my lord, remembering this, 'tis not difficult to draw therefrom -a conclusion that shall, I think, be near the mark. He has denounced -the villain Roderick--see how he cringes in his chair." - -"In his chair? Is that creature Roderick?" - -"It is, indeed, and I will wager that on this conflict his life -depends. And, look, look! The Bear presses the other hard. See how he -drives him back. Ah, God! he stumbles, he is--no, no! See, see, my -lord, see! Ah, heavens! it is too dreadful!" And he placed his hands -before his eyes. Even he, who had fought so well and risked his life a -score of times three nights ago, could not witness the end of this -fray. - -It was, indeed, too dreadful. The end of the combat had come. Even as -O'Rourke had been speaking, the Bear, creeping ever forward towards -the other, had prepared to make a spring at him when, his foot -catching against some unevenness in the baked earth, he stumbled and -nearly fell. And then, indeed, it looked as though he were lost. In an -instant his antagonist was at him; on high he whirled the dreadful -tomahawk, we saw its gleam as it descended, we heard Joice and Mary -scream and clasp their hands--and we saw that it had missed its mark. -It had overshot the other's shoulder; as it descended the Panther's -great forearm alone struck on the shoulder of the Bear, the deadly axe -itself cut into nothing but empty space. So the latter had lost the -one chance given him in the fray. - -But now his own doom was sealed--now at the moment that O'Rourke -called out in terror. As the Bear recovered himself from what was in -itself a terrible blow given by the muscular arm of the other savage, -so he seized that arm with his left hand,--it closed upon that other's -limb as a vice closes when tightly screwed!--he wrenched the arm -round, dragging with it its owner's body, and then, high, swift, and -sudden, his own tomahawk flashed in the air and, descending, cleft his -antagonists head in half, he falling quivering and dead. - -From us, lying up there on the rise of the bluff, there came a gasp, a -sigh of relief that the horrid combat which had caused us all to hold -our breath was finished; from the Indians below there arose dreadful -whoops and yells. They rushed into the great circle, they shouted and -they screamed; their noted impassiveness gone now, for a time at -least. They jeered at the great dead carcase lying there, a pool of -blood around it, and with the weapon still in its sinewy hand; they -even dabbled their fingers in that blood as the cried: "Anuza is now -our chief. The Bear shall rule over us. Senamee was unworthy, and he -has met his fate." - -Now, as we prepared to descend into their midst, we saw Anuza, as they -termed him, turn towards the prisoners. Looking principally, it seemed -to me, towards Joice, we heard him say: - -"White woman, and you, her kin, have I atoned somewhat for the sin -that I have done to you! The dead whom we slew in your houses we -cannot bring back, but one of those who urged us most to the fray has -answered for it. Now shall the other--the cheat, the false medicine -man--be punished also." And he turned towards where my cousin had sat -but a moment before. - -"What!" he exclaimed, rushing towards the bench, "what, gone! Gone! -Where is he?" - -But this none could answer for, in the few moments of intense -excitement that had followed the death of him whom they called -Senamee, he had disappeared. - -As they set forth to find him, as braves shouted orders to inferior -warriors to track and discover him but on no account to take his life -till it was offered up before them all, I rushed down the declivity of -where we had lain and, heedless of the excitement our appearance -caused, approached my darling and clasped her in my arms. Ah! what joy -it was to have that fair young form enfolded in them, to hear her -murmured words of love and happiness, to be with her once again, even -though our meeting took place in such a scene as this! - -But, ere we could do more than exchange hurried whispers one with -another, the victorious chief was by our side and he was addressing -me: - -"Beloved of the white woman," he said, "though I know not how you and -yours came here so swiftly," pointing to all my companions who stood -around, some shaking hands with the gentlemen who had been captured, -some regarding the dead body of Senamee which lay where it had fallen, -and some talking to the bond-servants who, with Buck for their chief -spokesman, were giving an excited description of what had happened to -them. "Beloved of the white woman, for such I know you to be, have you -come here simply to carry her back to her own dwelling house, or to -demand vengeance for the wrong done on her and all of you and your -servants and slaves? Answer, so that we shall know." - -I cast my eyes down on Joice, who, poor maid, was now sobbing on my -breast, while some of the Virginian gentlemen who knew not of our -recently avowed love gazed with somewhat of an amazed look at us; and -then I replied: - -"As yet I can make no answer to you. Amongst all these white men whom -you see here I am of the least standing, being but a stranger in the -land with no tie to it but this maiden's love. Yet since you address -me, and if they will have me for their spokesman at this moment," and -casting my eyes around on our friends I saw that they were willing it -Should be so, "I say that, ere we reply to you, we must be given some -time for conference between ourselves on the wrong which you have done -towards those who never harmed you nor yours." - -Here to my amazement, though I learnt the reason directly afterwards, -the great chief heaved a profound sigh, and, indeed, groaned, while I -went on. - -"And also must we know in what position we are here within your camp. -Do you still regard us as at war or peace? Are all free to go as they -desire, or are those here prisoners still?" - -Amidst the calls of the Indians who were seeking for Roderick to one -another from the thickets and groves, and the continued shouts which -told us that as yet their quest had been unsuccessful, the chief -answered: - -"I, too, speak as the mouth of my tribe, almost all of whom can -understand my words; nay, some there are whose fathers and fathers' -fathers were of your blood. Even so," he said, hearing our murmurs of -astonishment and, in the case of some, their murmurs of disgust. "Even -so. But for all of my tribe, whether of the noble Shawnee and Doeg -races which hath spread here from the great river to the north, or the -Manahoacs, or Monacans, or Tucaroras, Catawbas, or Cherokees, of all -of which races we are composed, and also for those of white blood who -have become of us, I speak, since he who now lies there is dead. All -are free to go, nay, shall be escorted back in safety to their homes. -For the war which we have made on you has been a sinful one, ordered -by the lying false medicine man whom we believed in. And, or -atonement, this I offer, being, though I knew it not then, myself the -worst of all my tribe. For the injuries I have done to the white woman -whose people were good to my father I offer my life, having naught -else to give. Here on this spot I offer it, now and at once." - -And to my amazement, as well, indeed, as that of all around, Anuza -came forward to where Joice and I stood, and, kneeling down before -her, stretched out his arms and went on: "Take it now, either with -your own hands or by the hands of this your beloved, or the hands of -these your slaves and servants. What more can I offer than this, -unless also you desire that I shall die a death of torture? And, if -that be so, then that will I also endure." - -My love had raised her head from my breast to gaze at him as he spoke -thus; around us had gathered the gentlemen of Pomfret who had been -taken prisoners; near us, looking on with strange and curious looks, -were those who but recently had been her bond-servants. 'Twas a -strange scene and one that would well have become a painter's -brush had any been there to limn it. The noble form of the huge -chief prostrate before the golden-haired girl who clung to her -lover--himself a sorry sight in his soiled and stained finery, which -he had worn from the evening that had begun so happily and ended so -horribly in her house; the dead body of the other chief lying there -close by her feet; the forms of Indian men and women all around, some -clad in gorgeous bravery and some nearly naked; also the other white -men of different degree--all looking on. Nor would the background have -been unworthy of so strange a set of characters. The green glade -dotted with its tents and wigwams, set off in contrast the -blood-smeared arena where the dead man lay; behind began the ascent of -the mountain range, clad with the verdure of the white magnolia, the -tulip tree and laurel, with, peeping through, the darker green of the -bay tree. Glinting through their branches and many-hued leaves were -seen the colours of the blue jay and blue birds, the golden orioles -and the scarlet cardinals, with, distinct from all and horrible to -see, the dusky forms of the foul vultures who had been gathered to the -spot by the warm, sickly scent of the dead man's blood. - -And now my beloved, drying her eyes, spoke softly to the man kneeling -before her, saying in her sweet, clear voice: - -"Nay, nay, speak not to me of death; there has been too much already. -God He knows I seek not your life--no, not more than she who succoured -your father sought his. But, oh! if this last conflict might end for -ever the encounters between your people and mine I would ask no more." - -From the Indians around there came a murmur that seemed born of -surprise. "She forgives," they whispered to each other. "The white -woman forgives the evil the Bear has done to her." And still they -murmured, "She forgives." - -"Oh, yes! oh, yes!" Joice cried, hearing their words, while she -stretched out her fair young arms so that, indeed, I thought she -looked more like unto an angel than before. "Yes, if forgiveness rests -with me, then do I indeed forgive. And you, my friends," turning to -those of our own race who stood around, "will you not forgive too; -will you not make this day one that shall end all strife between them -and us? Oh! if thus we could forget the wrongs that each has done to -the other, if the red man will forget the white man's attacks on him -and the white men forget the Indian's revenge, how happily we might -all dwell together in peace for ever." - -I looked round that strange gathering as she spoke, and, doing so, I -saw that which might well give good augury of the coming to pass of -what she desired. For in the eyes both of Indian and of colonist, of -savage warrior and of almost equally savage backwoodsman and hunter, -there were tears to be seen. It was not only from the clear young eyes -of Joice that they fell. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -A LONG PEACE - - -An hour later those who had been such deadly enemies sat at peace -together, engaged in a consultation. In a circle, side by side, were -the sachems and sagamores of the tribe, the settlers of Pomfret who -had come forth with me to rescue our friends, the late prisoners -themselves, and Joice seated by me. Apart, and taking no share in the -proceedings, were Kinchella and Mary Mills; above, and seated in -Senamee's great chair, was Anuza, now chief over all. Farther off were -the late bondsmen and many other of the Indians, while in the centre -of them was Buck, showing a variety of cheats and delusions, and -endeavouring to teach them how to perform them themselves--though this -they seemed unable to do. - -And now an old paw-wah, or sachem, passed the pipe he had been smoking -to another sitting by his side, and spake as follows: - -"Chiefs and braves of the tribe who are ever now allies, and you, the -pale faces who dwell to the east of us, hearken unto me. For ere the -sun sets to night it shall be, perhaps, that peace is settled between -us for ever; ay! until the sun shall rise no more and the moon shall -be darkened always." - -"Speak," said one of the tribe, while others gave the peculiar grunt -of the Indian and those of our party also bade him speak. - -"It is good," he answered, "and I will speak of the far-off days when -first the pale face came amongst us, though not then as a foe, until -even now when, if the great Spirit so wills it, he shall never more be -one. For the wrongs that have been done by the one to the other may be -atoned for ever now." - -He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, as it seemed, and then -again he went on: "When first the great waterhouses brought the pale -face to our land they brought not enemies but friends. This all know. -They came among us and they were welcome. We gave them of the fish of -our streams and the beasts of our forests and the fruits of the earth, -and in return they gave us the fire-weapons with which to slay the -beasts. They taught us also how to prepare them in better ways than we -knew, they showed us how to build houses that should be more secure -against the sun's heat and the winter's cold than those we made of the -red cedar's bark. All was well between us; we were friends. Nay, as -all know, we were brothers. We lay on the white man's hearth and he -cherished us; he slept in our cabins and wigwams and he was safe. Why -remained it not so? Hear me, and I will tell you. - -"The white man spake not always truth to us. He told us that our lands -were worthless, and he bought them from us for nothing, unless it was -the accursed fire-drink which made us mad, or for fire-weapons that in -our hands would slay nothing. Yet the lands thrived in his grasp and -he possessed them and we had lost them. And when we reproached him he -used fire-weapons that slew us without failure, and our prisoners whom -he took he sent away for ever across the deep waters.[5] So he took -our lands and our men, and got all, and we had nothing. And the Indian -never forgets. Thus, while we drew away from where the pale face -dwelt, some coming to these mountains and some going even farther -towards the unknown land of the setting sun, we had naught to cherish -but our revenge, and naught to comfort us but the exercise of that -revenge." - -"Yet," interrupted young Mr. Byrd, "in the days of my grandfather you -made a peace with us, and took gifts from us, and fire-weapons that -would kill of a surety, and agreed to attack us no more. But even that -peace you did not keep, though you made no raids upon us such as this -you have now made." - -"Yet were we never the aggressors," the sachem replied. "Never was an -attack made by us until evil was done to us. But the Indian forgives -not. If one of our race was slain by one of the white race then must -one of his kin be slain by us; if our women were outraged, as has -often been, or insulted, then must a white woman or a child be carried -away by us. It is the law of our gods; it must be obeyed. For a life a -life, for a hand a hand, for an Indian woman's honour a white woman's, -or the carrying off of children." - -"But," said Gregory, "there was naught to inspire such desire for -revenge as to cause this last attack. None in Pomfret have harmed you -or yours for many moons. What had she," pointing to Joice, "done; she, -this innocent woman, scarce more than a girl even now, that thus you -should attack and ruin her and seek her life and that of those by whom -she was surrounded?" - -The sachem was about to answer when whatever he would have said was -interrupted by Anuza, who, speaking quickly, said: - -"Because we were deceived by a lying, false, medicine man it was done. -Because he told us lies, even as he has lied to us ever since he dwelt -amongst us. And for those lies he shall die. He cannot escape us long. -Yet, since it is due to the white men that they should know how that -crawling snake worked upon us, so that we believed in him and did his -bidding and attacked their houses, tell them all--tell them all," and -he motioned to the sachem as he spoke. - -That all of us were eager to hear this recountal, you may be well -sure, for there was scarcely one amongst us who had not known the -wretch. The gentlemen had met him as an equal--for all believed his -tale--he had caroused with the (now freed) bondsmen, and he had even -gone a-hunting with the backwoodsmen and trappers. So we bent our ears -to the narrative and listened greedily. - -"He was found," said the paw-wah, "lying in the forest by Lamimi, the -young daughter of Owalee, a chief of the Powhattans, and she, because -her heart was tender, succoured him. But because Owalee hated the pale -faces with a great hatred she kept him secret from her father for many -days, hiding him in a cave she knew of and going to visit him often. -Yet she believed him to be no pale face, but rather a god sent from -another world, so wonderful were his doings. Food he refused at her -hands, making signs to her (and knowing, too, some words of her -tongue, as she knew some of his, by which they conversed) that meat -was brought to him by some unseen power. And of this he gave her -proof, showing her bones of fishes and of animals and birds which he -had devoured. Later on she learnt that he could marvellously snare all -creatures, making them captive to him even though he had no weapons, -but this she told us not until to-day. Nor told she until to-day--when -she, who had been his squaw and loved him, learned that she was to be -cast out and the white maiden here and her dark sister made to take -her place--of all his own deceptions and crafts. But, to-day, because -she hates him now as once she loved him, she has told all--all! She it -was who taught him the history of our braves and their deeds and the -deeds of their forefathers, which we thought the Sun God only could -have taught him so wonderful did his knowledge seem. She it was who -carried to him the news of what the tribes were deciding on doing, -either in war with other tribes, or in hunting, or in sacrificing, so -that, when he told us that he had learned all our future intentions, -again we believed that his father, the Sun, gave him the knowledge. -Fools! fools that we were! Yet we never thought of the girl, Lamimi, -though we knew she was his squaw. Nor would she have told him all she -did had he not ruled her by terror as much as by love. For he made her -believe that he could cause her to vanish for ever off the earth, even -as he made things to vanish from his hands and be no more seen; or as -he made stones to fly into the air and descend no more. Yet now she -knows, as we know, that all was but trickery, and that many others can -do the same, even as that one there," pointing to Buck, "who says he -is the child of no god, can do such things. - -"So the false one worked upon us, doing that which no medicine man had -ever done before; and so, at last, he got supreme control over us, -making us obey his every word. And ever did he tell us that, if we -would please the great Sun God, then must we make war upon and destroy -all the pale faces who dwelt between these mountains and the waters, -directing more particularly our vengeance towards the spot where you, -ye white people, live. This we at first would not do, because for many -moons there had been peace between us with neither little nor great -war; yet, as moon followed moon, and leaf was followed by barrenness -and then withered and fell to the earth, still did he press us. When -the thunder rolled and the lightning blasted our cattle, he told us -the Sun was angry because we obeyed him not; when many of our horses -were killed by reptiles and venomous insects he said ever the same; -when our women bore dead children still spake he of the Sun God's -anger. And yet we would not hearken unto him, for since the pale faces -no longer came against us we went not against them. - -"But lo! one day, when all the earth was dark, yet with no cloud -beneath the sky, he stood forth here on this spot where now we sit, -and, stretching out his arms which were bare, he said that ere long -upon his hands should appear a message from the Sun telling us of the -god's anger. And soon the message came, though now we know that it was -a cheat. Upon his open palm, which had been empty ere he clenched it, -there appeared a scroll of skin with, on it, mystic figures which none -could decipher but he. And the figures said, he told us, that never -more should the heavens be light again and that there should be -darkness over all the land, if we would not make war upon the white -men and save ourselves. For they, he said, were arming to attack us, -from over the deep waters their great king, who dwelt beyond them, was -sending more fearful fire-weapons than we had known with which to -destroy us for ever, and, ere another moon had passed, they would have -come. So, at last, in the darkness of the day, and with great fear in -the hearts of all the warriors and braves of the tribe, they said if -he would cause the Sun God to show his face again, then they would -promise to make the war. And so he stretched his hands to the Sun and -spake some words, and slowly his rays came forth again one by one and -light appeared again upon the world. Yet this we also know now was -false, and that the rays would have come and also the light even -though the promise had been withheld. I have spoken." - -At first none of us uttered a word when the sachem concluded. In -truth, all were surprised that, even among these poor, ignorant -savages, such credulity could have existed. And, I think, most of us -were pondering on what they would have done to the impostor had the -promise not been forthcoming by the time that the eclipse--for it was, -naturally, of such a thing the sachem spake--had passed away. - -Yet a spokesman had to be put forward on our part, and so we drew away -a little to consult. And having chosen one, which was Kinchella, we -returned and he addressed the Indians thus: - -"Warriors, braves, and people of the assembled tribes. We have thought -upon all your sachem has said, and we wish that the only true God had -inspired your hearts so that you should not have listened to the false -prophet who deceived you. Yet, since you have done so, and have made -war upon those who in their generation have never harmed you, what -reparation can you offer us?" - -"Ask what you will," said Anuza, "and if it is in our power it shall -be given." - -"'Tis well. Listen, therefore. These are our demands. Firstly, all -those who dwell with you and have our blood, the blood of the white -men, in their veins, shall be brought here, so that we may speak with -them and implore them to return with us to their own people. Also that -I, who am a humble minister of the true God, may endeavour to bring -them back to His service and, if I can prevail upon them, then you -shall let them accompany us." - -"If you can prevail upon them," said Anuza, "they shall accompany you. -But that you cannot do," and the tone in which he spoke seemed to us -one of most marvellous confidence. - -"At least we will attempt it. Next, we call upon you all here -assembled to make vows, the most solemn to which you can pledge -yourselves, that never again shall you make war upon the white man, or -his houses or property, nor attempt aught against him until he first -attacks you, and that none of your tribes shall come within a day's -ride of our lands either by stealth or openly." - -"Children of these our tribes," exclaimed Anuza, "you hear this -demand. Will you agree to it so that evermore there shall be unbroken -peace between them and us? Answer." - -To this there were many who cried out that they would agree to it, -while one, an older man than Anuza, coming forward, said: - -"A peace is no peace unless it binds both alike who agree to it. Will -the pale faces agree also that, if we advance not into the lands they -have possessed themselves of, they will come no further into ours? -Will they do this?" - -All of our side said they would promise this, while they recalled to -the Indians that 'twas more than fifty summers and winters since they -had made any encroachments on the Indians' territories, or taken one -rood of land from them except by barter at a price agreed upon. And so -at last the compact was made--the peace (which hath ever since that -day, so far as my knowledge serves, been kept in His Majesty's loyal -colony of Virginia) was entered into. It was ratified by the white men -calling upon heaven to witness their agreement to it, and by the -Indians swearing upon their wounds and scars, and calling upon their -gods to inflict most dreadful vengeance on them, and their children -afterwards, if they failed in their part. And also was it sealed by -the passing round of a pipe of peace, at which all smoked silently for -a few moments. But still one other promise was extorted from them--the -promise that the sacred symbol of our faith, the Cross, should be -taken down and nevermore used for the horrid rites to which hitherto -it had been put. This we saw done ere we left them. - -Now, as we sat smoking gravely with those who had so lately been our -bitter foes, there came in the Indians who had been sent to find the -villain Roderick, who reported that nowhere could any traces of him be -discovered. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had come--all trace -and trail of him was lost. - -And what disturbed these grave savages almost as much--nay, I think, -more, was that Lamimi, the daughter of Owalee, who had been Roderick's -squaw and had loved him once, was gone too. And white and red man -both asked themselves the same question--had that love awakened once -more in her bosom and forced her to fly with him; or--dreadful -thought!--had he in some way been able to wreak his vengeance on her -for having told the story of his imposture to her own people? - -We were soon to know. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE REWARD OF A TRAITOR - - -One thing there was to be done ere we quitted the Indian encampment. -It was to try and bring away with us those who, alas! poor souls, had -come there as white prisoners and had remained of their own free will, -becoming savages in all but complexion. We knew that it would be hard -to tear them from those to whom they had attached themselves. We knew -that girls, who should have grown up to become the wives of sturdy -English colonists or trappers, had stayed willingly with the Indians -to become their squaws and the mothers of their dusky children. We -remembered Anuza's air of confidence when he told us how he doubted of -our being able to persuade them to return with us. Yet we hoped. How -our hopes succeeded you shall see. - -We had remarked from our first arrival that there were no signs of any -white people amongst the Indians of the various tribes who dwelt here -together. Yet they had been eagerly sought for. Men from Pomfret and -the small holdings round about it had scanned the stained and painted -faces they gazed down upon while the fight between Anuza and Senamee -had been taking place, in the hopes--perhaps, in some cases, the -fears--that underneath those dreadful pigments the might recognise the -features of some long lost kinsman or kinswoman. And even I, knowing -the stories of those who had been carried off at various periods and -had never returned, had whispered to Joice, asking her if she could -see any whom she had ever known as children dwelling near her? But she -had only shaken her head and answered that she could see none, and -that she almost prayed she should not do so. And I knew why she thus -hoped none would be forthcoming; I knew that, to her tender heart, it -would be more painful to see these renegades than to gaze upon those -who were born savages and had never known the blessings of dwelling in -a Christian community. - -Yet now she had to see them. - -At a sign from Anuza an Indian servant went forth amongst the tents -and wigwams, returning presently followed by three women--white! Yes, -white, in spite of the stained skin, the Indian trappings of fringed -moccasins and gaiters, of quills and beads and feathers, and of -dressed fawn-skin tunics. Who could doubt it who saw above two of -their heads the fair yellow hair of the northern European woman--was -it some feminine vanity that had led them to keep this portion of -their original English beauty untampered with?--and above that of the -other the chestnut curls which equally plainly told that in her veins -there ran no drop of savage blood. - -As they stepped towards us, casting glances of no friendly nature at -those of their own race, one of the women, young and comely and -leading by her hand a child, went directly towards Anuza and, -embracing him, disposed herself at his feet while the child played -with the great hand that, but a few hours ago, had slain Senamee. -Her form was lithe and graceful--in that she might have been Indian -born--upon her head glistened her yellow hair which the Bear softly -stroked; her garb was rich though barbaric. It consisted of a -fawn-skin, bleached so white that it might have been samite, that -reached below the knee, and it was fringed with beads and white -shells. Her leggings were also of some white material but softer; her -moccasins were stained red and fringed also with shells. - -She turned her eyes up at Anuza--we saw that they were hazel ones, -soft and clear--and spake some words to him in a whisper, and then was -heard his answer: - -"My beloved," he said, "those whom you see around us are of your race, -and we have sworn but now eternal peace with them--a peace that must -never more be broken. Yet to ensure that peace we have granted one -request to the pale faces; we have consented that, if those who dwell -with us, yet are of their land, desire to leave us and go back with -them, they are free to do so. Do you desire thus to return?" - -"To return!" she said, looking first with amazement at him and then at -us, "to return and leave you? Oh! Anuza, Anuza! My heart's dearest -love!" while, as she spoke, she embraced the knee against which she -reclined. - -"You see," he said to us, "you see. And as it is with her so will it -be with the others. Yet make your demand if you will." - -Alas! all was in vain. In vain that Joice and Miss Mills pleaded with -them as women sometimes can plead with their sisters for their -good--what could they hope to effect? If they implored them to return -to their own people they were answered that they could not leave their -husbands, for so they spoke of the chiefs to whom they were allied. If -they asked them to return to Christianity the reply was that their -husbands' faith was their faith. It was hopeless, and soon we knew it -to be so. The lives they led now were the only lives they had any -knowledge of--their earlier ones at home, amongst their own people, -were forgotten if they had ever understood them; their very parents, -they told us, were but the shadow of a memory. - -"Why, therefore," asked the fairest complexioned of them all, she who -was the squaw of the Bear and the mother of his child, "should we go -back to those we know not of, even though they be still alive? Will -your faith, which preaches that a woman shall leave all to cleave unto -her husband, ask me to leave mine and my child and go back to I know -not what?" - -"In truth," I heard one old colonist whisper to O'Rourke, who stood by -his side, "there would be none for her to go back to. I do think she -is the child of Martin Peake, who was stolen when a babe, and, if so, -her father has been long since dead. Her mother lived until a year ago -hoping ever that she might return, looking up the lane that led to the -woods with wistful eyes, as though she might perhaps see her coming -back at last; even keeping her little room ready against her coming. -Yet it was never to be, and she died with her longing ungratified," -and the man dashed his rough hand across his eyes as he spoke, while I -saw that those of the old adventurer also filled with tears as he -listened. Then he said softly: "I can understand. I once had a -daughter whom I loved dearly and--and she is dead and gone from me. -Yet better so, far better than to be like this." - -Therefore it was not to be! They refused to come with us, and set the -love for their savage mates against all entreaties on our part. Nor -could we find it in our hearts to blame them. We remembered other -marriages that had taken place in earlier days between red and white; -we recalled the union of John Rolfe with the Princess Pocahontas, as -well as many more, and we knew that most of them had been happy. What -could we do but cease to plead and go in peace? - -Thus we set out again on our road to Pomfret, and, although some of -the party were going back to ruined homes, I think that even so they -were content. For, in so rich and wooded a land as this fertile -Virginia, houses might soon be repaired and made whole again, crops -easily brought to bear once more, and cattle replaced. And, against -any loss that had been incurred, there was always the great set-off of -peace with the Indians and security. All knew in that band--for well -were they acquainted with their foes of old--that, during at least the -present generation, the tribes would keep their word; if they made war -again it would not be during our time. The Indian had not yet learned -the art of lying--he was still uncivilised! - -These did endeavour to offer some reparation for the wrong they had -done the colony; they brought forth skins and furs, ornaments such as -they deemed might prove acceptable, weapons, and, in some few -instances, trinkets, gold, and precious stones--got we knew not -whence--which they piled on the ground and bade us take, saying they -had no more. But no man took aught from them, and so, after Kinchella -had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving for our release and another -that, if not now, at least at some future date, these poor heathens -might be gathered into the true fold, we set forth. And never more did -one of our party lay eyes upon any of those tribes again. As they had -vowed, so the vow was kept. - -As we rode on we could not but wonder what would be the fate of my -wretched cousin, the author of all the woe that had recently befallen -the, until now, happy little settlement. - -"That they will find him and slay him," said Gregory, who knew much of -their ways, "is certain. It is impossible he should escape or they -forgive. Well, vile as he is, God help him!" - -"Amen," said Joice, as she rode by my side. "Amen." - -"Perhaps," said the old hunter, who had recognised Anuza's squaw, "he -may strike the southern trail and make for the Seminoles; they hate -all the Alleghany tribes like poison. If he could get them to listen -to him, and promised to lead them up to their encampment, he might yet -join on to them." - -"Never," said Mr. Byrd. "He would have to join in the fight not shirk -from it in the garb of a medicine chief. Amongst the Red Sticks[6] -every man fights, and fighting is not his cue." - -"What I can't fathom," remarked another, "is how the white girls never -found him out. They should have known their own kind." - -"It may be," Gregory said, "that he kept himself ever apart. His squaw -was Indian, and, for his knowledge of our tongue, why! that he would -attribute to a gift from his precious Sun God. Doubtless he told them -he knew all tongues." - -"And the girls," said Mr. Byrd, "were stolen when they were children. -They could never have known--my God!" he exclaimed, breaking off, -"what is that?" while, with his finger, he pointed to a sight that -froze all our blood with horror. - -We had reached the bend of a small river which joined, later on, the -James, and were passing one side of it, a flat, muddy shore. On the -other side there arose a stiff, almost perpendicular, bank, beneath -which the river flowed; a bank that rose some seventy to eighty feet -above the water's level. And here it was that we saw that which was so -terrible to look upon. - -Fixed into the earth was a long pole, or spar, of Virginian pine; -attached to that pole was the naked body of a man--or was it the body -of what had once been a man? It was bound to the staff by a cord of -wampum, the arms were bound to it above the head by yet a second cord; -plunged into the heart was an Indian knife, the hilt glistening in the -rays of the evening sun. But worse, far worse to see than this--which -we could do with ease since the stream was but a narrow one--was that -the body was already nearly consumed with swarms nay, myriads--of huge -ants that had crept up to it by the pole, and were already feeding on -it so ravenously that, in a few more hours, there could be nothing -left but the skeleton. Indeed, already our dilated eyes could see that -the flesh of the lower limbs was gone--devoured; of the feet and legs -there was naught left but the bones, while the body and the face were -black with the host of venomous ants preying on them, so that the -features could not be distinguished. - -The women shrieked and hid their faces while the men sat appalled on -their horses. Then with, as it seemed, one impulse, all but one of the -latter dismounted and, wading through the stream that now, after the -long drought, was but knee-deep, rushed at the steep bank and -endeavoured to ascend it. - -The impulse that so prompted all of us, except Kinchella, who remained -with Joice and Miss Mills, was that _we guessed who and what that -awful figure had once been_. - -At first we could find no foothold by which to ascend; we strived in -vain, we even endeavoured to dig out steps with our swords and hands; -it was all unavailing. We should, indeed, have returned, desisting -from our labour, had not at this moment one of the trappers espied, -lower down, a slight path leading to the summit, a path doubtless used -by the Indians when in the neighbourhood. And so, gaining that path, -we reached the level above and drew near the horrid thing. - -No need to ask who the creature had once been; all was answered by one -quick glance. At the foot of the pole, at the foot of the thing -itself, there lay a fawn-skin tunic and a silken cloak on which were -wrought stars and moons and snakes, and a great blazing Sun, the -insignia, or totems, of the false medicine man. - -Yet, how had the deed been done? The Indians whom he had outraged and -deceived lay far behind us in the mountains; they, therefore, could -not have been his executioners. We had not far to seek ere this was -discovered too. The crest of the bank was higher than the level behind -it, which sloped downwards away from the river, and thus, when we -stood on the other side, we could not see all that lay below that -crest. - -But now we saw, and, seeing, understood. - -Near him, yet so far away that the venomous ants had not yet, at -least, reached it, there was another body--the body of a woman. It lay -on its back, the eyes staring up to the heavens, the tunic torn open -at the left breast and in that breast another dagger buried, which -still the right hand of the woman, an Indian, grasped and held as firm -as when she struck herself her death blow. - -So we knew all! We knew that he had escaped the vengeance of the tribe -only to die at the hands of the woman who had loved him once, and -whose love he had thought to replace--the hands of the woman who, -having saved his life at the outset, had taken it from him when he was -false to her. - -And thus he perished, not by the hands of those from whom he was -fleeing, but by those of Lamimi, his slighted and forsaken squaw. - - - - - -PART IV - -THE NARRATIVE OF -JOICE BAMPFYLD CONTINUED - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -HOMEWARD BOUND - - -It took not more than three months to put my house into a liveable -condition once more, for, most happily, the injury which had been done -to it in the Indian raid concerned more the woodwork and the fittings -than aught else. Indeed, while this was a-doing, I also took occasion -to have many improvements made in various portions of the manor that -were sorely needed. Thus, in some of our upstairs rooms, our windows -had in them nothing but oiled paper, while others were furnished with -naught but Muscovy glass or sheets of mica, dating back from the time -of the first Bampfyld who came to the colony. These I now replaced by -crystal glass brought from England for the purpose. - -Yet, in spite of changes and, I suppose, improvements, I could not -restrain my tears when first I set eyes on my saloon again. Oh! -how sad it was to see the spinet and the harpsichord broken to -pieces--everything stood exactly as we had left it that night--to see -also my choice Segodia carpets stained with the dried blood that had -been shed, and to observe my window-sashes, with their pretty gildings, -in splinters. - -"Yet cheer up, sweetheart," my lord said to me, as, leaning on his -arm, I looked round this ruin and let fall my tears. "It is not -irreparable, and might have been worse. And, when we come back from -England, we will bring such pretty toys and knick-knacks with us that -you shall forget all you have lost. I promise you, sweet, you shall." -After which he strove to kiss away my tears, though still they fell. - -This took place directly after we had all ridden into the courtyard on -our return from captivity. And when the gentlemen whose houses had -also been attacked as mine had been (including poor Gregory, who -seemed heart-broken at my having fallen in love, yet not with him), -and the other colonists had dispersed to their own homes, or what -remained of them, we had instantly begun to inspect the damage done. -Of the negroes we could discover no signs, though Buck and young Lamb -searched the whole house from the cellars to the garrets for them, the -former roaring many terrible threats and strange ejaculations at their -heads in the hopes they might be in hiding and, on hearing him, come -forth; but all was of no avail. Nor, when they searched in the late -slaves' and bond-servants' quarters were they any more successful. -Christian Lamb, my own maid, soon, however, re-appeared, she having -remained in the house the whole time, and though her brother swore at -her for a chicken-hearted wench and called her many other hard names, -such as traitress and deserter, I was most thankful to see her again, -she being a good, faithful creature, though timorous. - -From her we learned that after the departure of O'Rourke and my dear -lord--the former of whom was now engaged in finding provisions for us, -if any remained--the negroes had all sallied forth in a body towards -the coast, some with the intention of escaping from their servitude -and the others to find a home until I returned, if ever, of which they -seemed most doubtful. After this, she told us, the house had been -quite deserted, there being none in it but herself--the other white -indented servant women having also betaken themselves to the village -for safety. Yet she determined to remain until she heard some news of -us and of the party that had set forth to rescue us. Moreover, her -alarm was lessened by the fact that a squadron of the Virginian Light -Horse, from Jamestown, had come into the village with a view of -following us and effecting a rescue if possible, but, on learning that -a considerable band had set out for the purpose, they had decided to -remain where they were, for the present, at least, and to await -results. - -And now, when at the end of those months my house was once more fit -for habitation, and when all signs of the horrible attack that had -been made on it had been removed, Gerald, coming to me one evening -when I was sitting by my wood fire--for the evenings were turning -chilly--said: - -"My dearest, are you ready? The time draws near." - -"Must it be so soon?" I asked coyly, and with a blush upon my cheeks -that was not caused by the blaze of the logs. "Must it be now?" - -"In very truth it must," he answered. "I must away to England as -swiftly as may be. See here, sweet, what I have found at Jamestown -to-day." Then with one arm round my waist, he drew forth with his -disengaged hand a packet of letters from his pocket and began to read -them to me. - -"The Marquis," he said first, "grows old, nay, has grown old; he is -seventy-five if an hour. List what he says," and continued his reading -of a letter from that noble kinsman: - -"I would have you here ere I die so that I may publicly announce you -as my heir, and this I will do in my own house when you return, though -even then I can of no certainty promise that the Lords will enrol you -as such immediately after my death, since they are not so easily -persuaded as their brothers in Dublin. Yet come, I say, come as soon -as may be. Your mother, too, grows more feeble, worn almost to her -grave by the slanders which your uncle and the man Considine--who -scruples not to say openly that you are none other than _his_ -son--puts about you; and in truth I do think these calumnies will kill -her ere long. She rages terribly against them both, and calls on me -and many of the peers in power to punish them; yet what are we to do?" -"The vile wretches!" I exclaimed, as I nestled close to him. "Oh! the -vile wretches! Oh! my darling, that thus your birthright should be so -assailed." - -"Yet will I have vengeance," he exclaimed, while his eyes glowed with -resentment. "Yet shall the fellow Considine regret that he has ever -dared to call me his son. His--his. God! My uncle's drunken pander!" -and for a while his rage was terrible to witness. - -Then, taking up another letter, he said, "This also I found at -Jamestown to-day. It is from her, from my mother." - -She, too, wrote saying how earnestly she desired that he might soon be -able to return home, and more especially so as she heard that the -fleet under Sir Chaloner Ogle was about to do so. Then, after -mentioning somewhat the same news as the Marquis had done, she went -on: - -"Oh! my dearest child, can'st thou picture to thyself all the horrors -that I have endured since first you were impressed and torn away from -me again, after our short but happy meeting? I think it cannot be that -you do so. For five years have I, with my wasted frame and ill health -ever to contend against, pleaded your cause, worked hard to produce -evidence of your birth, and was even so successful with the Marquis's -aid as to defeat your vile uncle in the Irish courts and induce the -Lords there to enrol you as Lord St. Amande. Yet, as I have thus -striven, think of what else I have had to fight against. That most -abhorred and execrable villain, Wolfe Considine, has thrown away the -mask--if he ever wore it--and has now for two or three years boldly -said--God! how can I write the words?--that when your erring father -was petitioning the House of Lords for a divorce I was his, -Considine's, friend, and that you are his son." - -The paper shook in my loved one's hands as he read these words, and he -muttered, "Considine, Considine, if ever you come within the point of -my sword it shall go hard with you," and then went on with the perusal -of the letter: - -"That no one believes him--for none do so--matters not. The odium is -still the same, and there are some in existence who remember how, at -Bath and Tunbridge Wells, ere I had met your father, the wretch -persecuted me with his attentions, which I loathed. Also, I remember -that, on my becoming affianced to your father, he swore that I should -rue it and regret it on my knees, even though he had to wait twenty -years for his revenge. Alas! alas! I have rued it and regretted it -again and again, though not as he intended. Yet, my child, and only -one, if I could but see you properly acknowledged as the Marquis's -heir and as such accepted, then would I forget my rue, then could I -die happy--the end is not far off now. But ere that end comes, oh! my -child, my child of many tears, come back to me, I beseech you. Let me -once more clasp you to my arms and let me hear your kinsman proclaim -you as his successor. It is for that I wait, for that I long -unceasingly." - -There was more in her letter saying, amongst other things, how Mr. -Quin, whom afterwards I came to know and to respect most deeply, never -slackened in his watchfulness over her; of how he was always in -attendance on her and what services he performed for her. But what he -had read was sufficient. - -"You must go to England, Gerald," I said; "at all costs, you must go. -Will the Admiral give you leave?" - -He laughed aloud at this, saying: "Will the Admiral give me leave? -Why, Joice, Sir Chaloner Ogle sailed a month ago, leaving me ere he -went his consent to my being absent as long as necessary on urgent -private affairs. He knows well how I stand, and wishes me well, too. -And, dear heart, as you say, I must go--only I will not go alone." - -I well understood his meaning yet could find no answer to his words. -So again he went on whispering them in my ear. "No, not alone. My wife -must go with me. And, Joice, to-night I will tell Kinchella to make -all ready, to proclaim our banns, and to prepare to make us one. It -shall be so, my sweet saint, my tender Virginian rose, my heart's best -and only love; it shall be so, shall it not?" - -What could I say but yes--what other answer make? No woman who had -loved him as I had loved him (even ere I knew him, I think)--no woman -who had dreamt of his sad story and then come to know him and see his -beauty and grace and his fierce bravery exacted on her behalf, but -must have answered yes, as I did. For he was all a woman's heart most -longs for; all that she most aspires to possess; handsome and brave, -yet gentle; fierce as the lion when roused, yet how tender and how -true. So I whispered "Yes," and murmured my love to him and the -compact was made; our fond troth plighted again with many a kiss. - -It was in the old church, from the wooden tower of which the cannon -had been fired so often on that dreadful night of death and horror, -that we were married. As was the custom of the colony--though one, I -think, that might well be changed--the minister took the first kiss -from me, while my husband kissed my bridesmaid, Mary, and afterwards I -had to submit to being kissed by every gentleman present, while all -the while I wanted no other embrace than that of my dear lord. Yet it -had to be borne, and one of the first to avail himself of this -privilege was Gregory, who kissed me sadly, saying as he did so: - -"Ah, Joice, 'twas otherwise I had hoped some day to kiss thy sweet -brow. Yet 'twas not to be and so I must bear it as best I may," and he -passed sadly down the aisle and away home, tarrying not for the -drinkings nor merry-makings that afterwards set in. But, poor lad, he -struggled with his love for me so well that at last he conquered it, -and certainly his disappointment made no difference in his friendship -for me or my husband. During our absence in England he managed my -property as carefully as though it had been his own, and regularly -sent us an exact account of all he had done, so that 'twas easy to -see, and to admire in seeing, that his unaccepted love had not made an -enemy of him. - -Mr. Kinchella and Mary Mills we saw married a week after our own -nuptials, so we left them also happy and content--which was a great -joy to us to do. O'Rourke, too, we parted from as friends part from -one another, he setting out for Savannah where he purposed to instal -himself as agent of Mr. Oglethorpe and bidding us an affectionate -farewell ere doing so. He also made an affidavit before an attorney at -Jamestown of all he knew of the villainies of Robert St. Amande and -the wretch Considine, and swore as well that, from the intimate -knowledge he had of my lord's family, and also from having had him -once in his charge, the Viscount St. Amande was most undoubtedly the -lawfully born child of the late lord. Moreover, he also swore (and -produced letters from Considine proving his oath, which letters he -gave to Gerald) that, during the separation of Lady St. Amande from -her husband, he, Considine, was living an outlaw at Hamburg with a -price upon his head, so that he could never have even seen her during -that time. - -The overseers of the bond-servants being, like all the others, free -men now, were provided with means whereby either to establish -themselves in the colony or to go elsewhere, though they, in common -with the others, elected to remain as hired hands on my estate during -my absence. Buck, however, who seemed never to have lost his -rollicking disposition, being also provided with some money wherewith -to adventure on his own account, bought the lease of the tavern in the -village, and changed its name from that of the King's Head to the St. -Amande Arms. Lamb, who had once been a sailor, became again one, while -his sister, Christian, took passage with us to England as my maid. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -IN THE LAND WHERE THEIR FATHERS DWELT - - -How shall I, brought up a plain colonial maiden, who had never seen -anything more grand than the opening of our Virginian Assembly by the -Governor, nor anything more of great life than an assembly ball or the -meeting together of our first families at the races, dare to describe -the wonders and splendours of London. For wonderful and splendid -everything was, and marvellous to behold. From where we were at first -installed until the Marquis could arrive in London from his country -seat, namely, a busy inn called the Hercules Pillars, at Hyde Park -Corner, a spot which my dear father had often told me was the centre -of fashion, I saw so much going on that my head was ever in a whirl. -Here from morn till night, under the balcony of our sitting-room -windows, went on such a clatter and a dashing by of vehicles, -including the fast coaches coming in and going out of London, and of -huge carriages and carts and horses, that there was no peace, though, -in dear truth, I loved to lean over that balcony and watch the -turmoil. In the early November mornings--for 'twas that month ere we -reached London--first would come lumbering by great carts piled high -with vegetables, all of which, my lord said, London would have eaten -up by nightfall--a thing not wonderful to understand, seeing that it -was asserted that there were nearly half a million people in the town, -or one-twelfth part of the whole country. Then great droves of beasts -would pass, and sometimes--oh! sad sight--a wretched highwayman with -his hands tied behind his back and escorted by the thief-catchers, -while the passers-by hooted at him or beat at him with sticks and -whips, or flung refuse at him. - -"Such was Buck once," Gerald would say when he saw one of these; "and, -perhaps O'Rourke, though I think he was more the spy. Ah! well, it is -better to be honest men in Virginia or Georgia than like this." - -Then, as the day went on, and a poor, thin sun struggled out of the -mist, making some brightness around, there would ride forth gentlemen -who were going a-hunting at Richmond, or Hampton, or Hounslow, very -splendid in their coats. Others, too, would come down to ride in the -park most beautifully dressed, and some would stroll along on foot, -talking and laughing, and bowing to ladies in their chaises, or taking -off their hats to a portly bishop who passed our inn every morning in -a coach and six. And sometimes, too, a great lady or so would also go -by in her coach and six, with, seated on the steps outside, a page, or -sometimes a little black boy with a silver chain around his neck, and -I never understood then why Gerald would pull me back into the room as -though he wished me not to see these dames. Yet, when I learnt -afterwards that one was the Countess of Suffolk and another the horrid -woman, Melusina Schulemberg, I did comprehend his reason. And, even in -the three days we lay at this inn, I learnt to hate the latter, for, -going past one morning, she observed my handsome Gerald on the balcony -and kissed her hand to him--as they say she did to any well-favoured -gentleman she saw--and afterwards always peered out of the carriage as -though seeking for him. - -Soon, however, my pleasures of witnessing the bustle of this place -came to an end. One dull November morning there drove up to the door -of the Hercules Pillars a great coach and six, all emblazoned with -coats-of-arms and decorated with rich hangings and much gilding, with, -before it, three panting footmen, who, poor creatures, had always to -run in front of it, and with, seated within it, a grave and -soberly-clad gentleman. - -"Why," exclaimed Gerald, who did not share my surprise at this -gorgeous and, it seemed to me, sinfully extravagant spectacle--for -why could not the gentleman travel as we do in Virginia, either -a-horseback or on foot! "Why! 'Tis the Marquis. Joice, go, put on thy -best dress--no! stay just as you are; faith, you are fair enough to -charm any man." And then he ran downstairs to meet his kinsman and -presently brought him to our parlour. - -"This is my wife, my lord," he said, presenting me to him, "of the -family of Bampfyld, of Virginia." - -Whereon the Marquis bowed to me with most stately grace in reply to my -curtsey, and, taking my hand, kissed it. "Madam," he said, "we are -honoured by an alliance with you. There is no better English blood -than that of the Bampfylds, and sure there can be no fairer woman than -the Lady St. Amande. Are all women as fair as your ladyship in the -colonies?" - -I simpered and blushed and knew not what to say, when Gerald diverted -his attention by exclaiming, with a smile: - -"Her name is Joice, my lord. Will you not, as the head of our family, -thus call her?" - -"Indeed I will. Joice--Joice; 'tis a pretty name, and well befits its -pretty owner. And so, _Joice_," turning to me and speaking as though -he had known me from a child, yet all the time with a most courtly -manner, "you have finally determined to throw in your lot with my -young kinsman, in spite of his troubles?" - -"Oh! sir," I said; "oh! my lord, what woman who had ever seen or known -him could refuse to love him? And I owe him my life; I would lay it -down for him now if he willed it. He fought for me and mine, ay! shed -his dear blood for me. I have a dress at home all stained with it -which I will never part with. He sought for me amongst my capturers -and would have rescued me if they had not been mercifully disposed; he -was as a god in my eyes, and now he is my husband and I love him more -than aught else upon this earth. Oh! sir, I do love him so." - -Both he and Gerald smiled gently at my ardour, which, indeed, I could -not repress, and then he said: - -"Doubtless, Joice, doubtless. 'Tis perhaps not strange. And, child, -you wish to see him righted thoroughly; is it not so?" - -"Indeed, indeed, my lord!" I cried, "such is ever my fervent prayer. -Yes, morning, noon, and night. And, surely, since the Irish Lords have -acknowledged his right to the title he bears, those in England will -not refuse to regard him as your heir." - -"We must do our best. Yet, even if they will not give him my title -when I am gone, I can do much for him. Providence hath greatly -benefited me. There is much I can bequeath to him, and, for the rest, -I can provide that if he gets it not none other shall. Above all, the -Scoundrel Robert shall never have it." - -"God bless you!" my husband and I exclaimed. "God bless you!" - -"Now, listen," he continued, "to what I propose. Your mother follows -me but a few stages behind--poor Louise! she is marvellously stirred -at the thought of seeing her son again--and when she is arrived in -town this is what I will do. 'Tis what I intended five years ago, had -not Sir Chaloner's men impressed you and made a sailor of you. I will -have a meeting of many peers of my acquaintance--Sir Robert"--he meant -the great Sir Robert Walpole--"has promised that he will come as well -as some others who will be useful--and then I will publicly -acknowledge you as my successor. But," he went on, "there is something -else to be done." - -Gerald looked enquiringly at him as though doubtful as to what he was -about to say, when the Marquis again took up the word. - -"The two scoundrels, Robert St. Amande and Wolfe Considine, must be -brought to bay; above all, the latter must be made to retract the -villainous falsehoods he has spread about your mother." - -"Ay, retract!" interrupted Gerald, hotly, "retract. He shall, indeed, -or I will tear his lying tongue----" - -"Nay, nay!" said his kinsman, putting up his hand. "Nay, hear me." - -"I ask your lordship's pardon." - -"This is my plan, agreed to by your injured mother. They are both in -London now, ever spreading their calumnies about, though I hear that -none heed them, and Robert St. Amande endeavours unsuccessfully to -borrow money on what he terms his succession. Now, we have decided to -ask both these men to attend at my house on the same morning on which -I intend to proclaim you--only they are not to know that there will be -any other persons present but themselves. Thus, they will suddenly -find that they are surrounded by auditors, as well as some witnesses -who knew you in your childhood. There will be, also, the papers you -have forwarded me signed and testified to by O'Rourke, and by these -means we hope either to extort the truth from them, or at least so to -strike terror to them, that they shall prevaricate and contradict -their own lying statements. And, remember, there will be a strong -array against them." - -"The idea is most excellent," exclaimed Gerald. "Surely thus they must -be beaten down. And will my mother be there, my lord?" - -"Your mother will be there, but her presence will be unknown to them. -Yet she vows that, if Considine does not deny before all assembled the -wickedness of the slanders he has put about, she will come forward and -confront him and dare him to utter them to her face. - -"'Twill be a terrible ordeal for her," my husband said. "Heaven grant -she may be able to endure it." - -"She will endure it; she will so string herself up that none regarding -her will be able to imagine her a weak woman who sometimes cannot -raise herself even from her bed. Yet, since she has dwelt under my -care----" - -"For which I say again God bless you--for that and all the other -luxuries and comforts you have surrounded her with." - -"'Tis but little," replied the Marquis. "And she is desolate and the -mother of my heir. 'Tis nothing. But, as I say, since she hath been -with me I have seen some most marvellous moments of recovery with her, -moments when she would suddenly exclaim that she was once more well -and strong. And, to show me that she was so, she would lift some great -weight or walk up and down her chamber a dozen times, yet ever -afterwards there came directly a relapse when she would again sink -into her chair helpless as a babe once more." - -"Ay," said my husband thoughtfully, "so have I seen her too. Nor do I -doubt that if she stands face to face with that craven hound, she will -lack no strength to cow him." - -In a little while you shall see that that strength was not lacking, -you shall see how it was exerted against the miserable wretch who had -blighted her life. But the place to tell it is not here. - -And now the Marquis bade us prepare to accompany him to that great -mansion of his in Lincoln's Inn Fields, of which my dear lord had told -me; and, ere long, Gerald's servant and Christian Lamb between them -had packed up our effects, we going in the gorgeous emblazoned coach -and they following in a hackney. As we went I observed how great a man -this noble kinsman of ours was, for many, both gentle and simple, -raised their hats to the carriage as it passed along, and in the great -square, which they call the Fields, there was quite a concourse to -witness our arrival; the poor people shouting for the noble Marquis -and cheering the Government, while his running footmen threw, by his -orders, some silver pieces amongst them. - -Oh, 'twas indeed a joyful day!--joyful in many ways--for, besides -showing to us that which truly I had never had any doubts of, namely, -that the Marquis of Amesbury was all for Gerald and determined, if he -could, to right him, it brought together that poor mother and son who -had so often and so long been parted. Nor could I restrain my tears, -nor fail to weep for joy, as I saw them folded once more in each -other's arms, and heard her whisper her love and fondness for him and -murmur that, at last, they would never more be parted in this world. - -"Never more be parted in this world." That was what she said. "Never -more to be parted in this world." Verily she spake as a prophet, or as -one who could divine the future. - -And there was still one other meeting that took place which joyed my -heart to see. 'Twas that of my husband and his faithful, old friend, -Mr. Quin; the man who had sheltered him when he was a beggar, who had -been as a father or an elder brother to him, and who, when 'twas no -longer possible that he should serve Gerald, had transferred his -honest, faithful allegiance to Gerald's mother. It pleasured me, I -say, to see those two embrace each other, to hear my husband call him -his old friend and protector, and to see the joy upon the other's face -as he returned that embrace and told him how handsome he had grown and -how noble-looking a man he had become. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -FACE TO FACE - - -All were assembled in the great saloon, or withdrawing-room, of the -Marquis's house. - -The day had come for that nobleman to acknowledge his kinsman, Lord -St. Amande, as his heir before all men. - -The Marquis of Amesbury sat at a table near the fireplace, on which -lay, amongst other things, the papers that O'Rourke had signed and -sworn to, the certificates of Gerald's birth and of his enrolment by -Ulster King-of-Arms as the Viscount St. Amande in the peerage of -Ireland, several affidavits from nurses and tutors to whom the lad had -been put in the country, stating that the child delivered to them was -always spoken of by the late lord as his son; and many other -documents. At the end of the room were three witnesses who had been -brought over from Ireland to testify that, to their certain knowledge -and belief, Gerald was the lad they had known as the late lord's son. -One of these witnesses was the Protestant clergyman of New Ross, now a -very aged man; another was the steward of the estate where Gerald had -been born; a third the nurse who had had him in charge from his -earliest hours and had identified him by the marks upon his body. - -Next to the Marquis, and on his right hand, Gerald was placed, and -next to him I sat. On his left was no less a personage than the -renowned Sir Robert Walpole, who had now ruled the country for many -years, after having triumphed over all his enemies--even those who had -had him dismissed from the Parliament and committed to the Tower. He -was a man who, had one met him in the street, they would have been -disposed to regard more as a jolly, beef-loving squire in London for a -week's shopping and sight-seeing, than aught else. There, too, was -William, third Duke of Devonshire--a courtly, grave gentleman, who had -not yet, or barely, reached the prime of life; Lord Trevor and many -others, to all of whom I was presented as the Lady St. Amande and -future Marchioness of Amesbury. All greeted me most courteously, -asking me many questions as to our colony and especially as to its -loyalty, of which I was able to testify proudly, though I know not if -I might have said as much of some of the more northern ones. The -extremely polite, also, made me many compliments and, in their -fashionable jargon, exclaimed that they trusted, now that I had shed -the light of my eyes upon the mother country, I should never withdraw -it wholly again. But these speeches I regarded only as foolishness and -scarce worth answering. - -And now the Marquis, addressing them, said: - -"My lords and gentlemen and my good friends, you know what we are -assembled here for. 'Tis for me to present you to my kinsman and heir. -That I have already done individually; later on I shall ask you as a -body to testify your willingness to acknowledge him as such. But -first, and ere that is done, I wish to expose to you two villains--one -of them, alas! also near to me in blood--who have long stood in the -path of his lordship, who have endeavoured in every way to thwart his -honest endeavours to come by his own, and who, in those endeavours, -have assailed the fair fame of his mother, Louise, Dowager Viscountess -St. Amande, who sits now behind that organ." And the Marquis pointed -to a great organ made by Geisler of Salzburg in 1650, and brought by -his father from there when making the grand tour. - -'Twas there, indeed, that she had placed herself, being unwilling to -be more regarded than was necessary, either by those who knew of her -unhappy married days or who had known her in the full pride of her -beauty. But as she had taken this place, where she could easily -overhear all that passed, she had again reiterated her assertion that, -should the two calumniators persist in their falsehoods and vile -assertions, she would endeavour so to nerve herself to the task as to -drag herself forward and confront them. - -"To expose those villains, my lords and gentlemen," went on the -Marquis, "this is what I have done. I have summoned Robert St. Amande -to this house to-day--it wants but a quarter of an hour to the time -when he should arrive," pointing to the great clock over the -fireplace, "and I have requested him to come provided with the proofs -which he says he can bring forward establishing his claim to be my -successor. My lords, he has fallen into the snare, he has notified to -me that he will be here at midday with Mr. Considine, his friend and -secretary, when he will advance such proofs, as he states, that Lord -St. Amande is not entitled to the rank he usurps, and desires in -future to usurp, that he, Robert, must be the right and lawful heir." - -"Was not this Mr. Wolfe Considine once proscribed?" asked a gentleman -sitting near, who was no other than His Majesty's Attorney-General, -Sir Philip Yorke. "It appears to me I know his name." - -"He was proscribed in 1710 for most treasonable practices and fled to -Hamburg, where he was supported by the Jacobites, but, on the -accession of His late Majesty, he, with many others, obtained a -withdrawal of that proscription on swearing allegiance to the House of -Hanover. But, my lords and gentlemen, I will call your attention to -the fact that this proscription entirely proves the grossness of the -lie he asserts, that he is the father of Lord St. Amande, since he -could not have been in England for some long time either before or -after his lordship's birth." - -"And is this Mr. Robert St. Amande's only ground on which to base his -claim to both titles--Lord St. Amande's and yours?" asked Sir Robert -Walpole. - -"It would be of little effect if it were," exclaimed the -Attorney-General, "since, even if true, his lordship must have been -born in wedlock." And he took up a document to assure himself of the -date of the marriage. - -"He advances many other statements," continued the Marquis, "all of -which he says he is prepared to prove, when called upon to do so, -before the House of Lords. Doubtless he will bring forward some of -these to-day, but, ere he comes, I desire to tell you that, in so -coming, he imagines he will meet no one but myself. When, therefore, -he and his precious comrade are admitted, you may be well prepared to -see him exhibit many marks of surprise and consternation, in which -state we hope to show him in his true colours. And, my lords and -gentlemen, it is for this reason that I have ventured to have your -carriages and coaches sent to the other side of the Fields until -required, so that they, amongst other things, shall not scare the -birds away." - -There arose a murmur of amusement at these precautions on the part of -his lordship, who went on to explain that his footmen had also -received their orders for conducting the expected visitors into the -presence of those here assembled; and then, as the clock solemnly -struck the hour, all sat waiting for the arrival of those two -conspirators. And, I think, with the exception of Sir Robert Walpole, -who shut his eyes as though about to indulge in a refreshing sleep, -and the Duke of Devonshire, who conversed with Gerald and me on the -state of the Indians in the colonies and seemed much interested -therein, all present were greatly agitated at the impending meeting. -Once I saw the sweet, sad face of my mother-in-law glance from behind -the organ and smile at Gerald, as though bidding him be of good -cheer--as, indeed, he well might be in this fair company, all so well -disposed towards him; and several times Sir Philip Yorke muttered -"Humph!" and "Ha!" as he turned over carefully the mass of papers -before him and occasionally whispered a word to the Marquis. - -"That was a precious plot," I heard him say, "of Mr. St. Amande's to -get his nephew shipped to the plantations as a bond-servant. Our -friend, Mr. Quin, seems to have outwitted him neatly. What did you say -became of the other--the one called--humph! Robinson--nay, Roderick?" - -"He died a fearful, terrible death," replied the Marquis, "after he -left the service of her father," indicating me. Then he went on to -tell him the history of that unhappy man while many of us glanced at -the clock. They were already fifteen minutes late--'twas fifteen -minutes after twelve--could they intend not to come? - -My self-questioning was answered a moment later--through the hall -there rang a violent peal upon the bell, as though the hand which -caused it was a fierce, masterful one; and clearly could we hear a -harsh voice exclaim: - -"Show the way and announce us. Follow, Considine!" - -"My uncle," whispered Gerald to me. "Now prepare to see two of the -wickedest rascals unhung." - -"The Viscount St. Amande," said the great footman, regarding the -company, as I thought, with a bewildered air--doubtless he wondered -how there could be two persons bearing the same title--"and Mr. Wolfe -Considine," and a moment afterwards the new comers were before us. - -The one whom I soon knew to be Robert St. Amande bore nothing in his -features that seemed to me remarkable or to indicate a villain, unless -it was a terrible scowl and a most fierce, piercing pair of black -eyes. He was solemnly clad; indeed, he was in deep mourning for his -second wife, who had been carried off but recently by that dreadful -scourge the smallpox, so that there was no colour about him. His -companion also wore black--I suppose for his master's wife--and was -naught else but an ignoble copy of that master. Gazing on him, and -observing the insolent leer upon his face, his tawdry attempts at -finery even in his mourning, such as his steel-hilted sword inlaid -with brass, his imitation lace fal-lal neckerchief, and silver -shoe-buckles, I could well believe that here was an adventurer and -outcast who might easily be suborned and bribed to swear any lie for a -handful of guineas. - -"So," exclaimed Robert St. Amande, as he cast his scowling glances -round the room, though even as he so scowled 'twas easy enough to see -that he was much taken aback by the sight of so many persons -assembled, "so, you invite us to meet a great company, my lord Marquis -and kinsman. 'Tis well, very well. Your Grace of Devonshire, I salute -you," accompanying his words with a deep bow, half mock and half -respectful. "And the Premier, as I live! Sir Robert, I am your most -obedient, humble servant. Sir Philip, too; though, sir, you are, I -think, none too well inclined towards me. Well, it must be endured. -And, now, my lord Marquis, in the midst of this gallant company, -enriched by the beauty of this fair lady, whom I know not, may I ask -what your intentions are? Though, indeed, I can but guess that you -have gathered your friends together to witness an act of justice -which, though tardy, you intend to do at last." - -These swaggering speeches were well enough made and with a surprising -air of confidence--indeed, my lord hath often since said that neither -Wilkes nor Booth, the play-actors, could have surpassed him--yet they -had no effect. The Duke and the great Minister took no notice of his -salutations, while the Attorney-General but shrugged his shoulders -contemptuously at his remarks, and then the Marquis spake, saying: - -"Robert St. Amande, your guess is indeed most accurate. It is to do an -act of justice at last that I have requested your presence here." - -"'Tis well," the other replied, while he threw himself into a chair, -an act in which he was imitated by his follower. "'Tis well. Proceed, -my lord Marquis." - -Yet as he spake with such assurance, it seemed to me as though he -blanched and turned white. - -"It is, indeed, to do an act of justice at last!" the Marquis -repeated. "Robert St. Amande, it is to present my heir, the future -Marquis of Amesbury, to my political friends that I have summoned them -to-day. My lords and gentlemen and friends," and as he said the words -he laid his hand on Gerald's shoulder and motioned him to rise, "this -is my heir; this is the rightful Lord St. Amande and future possessor -of my rank." - -There was a murmur of applause from all assembled, as well as of -greeting, while Robert St. Amande sprang to his feet, exclaiming: - -"Him--you present him? That fellow! Why, 'tis none but the self-styled -Gerald St. Amande." And he burst into a contemptuous laugh. "A pretty -heir, that! A child born during a long separation of his father and -mother, ay! a separation of years--if they were ever married at -all----" - -"Have a care!" exclaimed Gerald, also springing up from the seat he -had resumed. "Have a care! or even this house shall not protect you -now." - -"I speak what I know. If they were ever married produce the -proofs--and, even though you can do that, you must also prove that -they were not separated for long before your birth. And on _that_ -score I, too, have my witness," and he glanced significantly at Wolfe -Considine. - -"Be tranquil, Gerald," exclaimed the Marquis to my husband, who made -as though he would fly at the other's throat, as, indeed, I think he -would have done had it not been for those who interposed between them. -"Calm yourself. There is proof enough here to confound every statement -of his," and he motioned, as he spoke, to the old clergyman from New -Ross, who came forward at his bidding. - -"Sir," exclaimed the Attorney-General, looking up from his papers at -this venerable man, "I have here a certificate of the christening, -signed by you and duly witnessed by the others, of Gerald St. Clair -Nugent St. Amande, son of Viscount St. Amande, of New Ross. Do you -recognise it?" - -"I do," the old clergyman answered. - -"'Tis the marriage certificate we desire to see," exclaimed Robert St. -Amande. "The birth is not in dispute. What we do dispute is, first the -marriage, then the paternity of the child, and, lastly, the identity -of the person calling himself Gerald St. Amande with the real Gerald -St. Amande, presuming the real Gerald St. Amande to have been lawfully -born." - -"We will endeavour to answer all your demands," Sir Philip Yorke said, -glancing up at him. "Listen." - -Then in a cold, clear voice, such as I think must have caused many an -unhappy criminal to tremble for fear, he went on: - -"The marriage between the late Viscount St. Amande, bearing himself -the names of Gerald St. Clair Nugent St. Amande, with Louise Honoria -Sheffield, was celebrated on the first of March, in the year of our -Lord seventeen hundred and eight, at the Church of St. Olave's, at -York. The certificate is here. You may see it for yourself." - -Robert St. Amande waved his hand, exclaiming, "Since the -Attorney-General testifies to it, who shall dispute it? It proves, -however, nothing against our contention. Proceed, sir." - -"Next we have the testimony of this reverend gentleman as to the birth -and christening. That you cannot dispute with any hope of success. -Here, too, is the woman who took charge of the infant at its birth. -Norah Mackay, of New Ross, come forward." - -With much fear and nervousness, this elderly woman--she who had first -held my darling in her arms--came up the room, and, dropping many -curtseys, stood before the great lawyer. - -"Norah Mackay," he said, "you state that you remember the marks upon -the neck and left arm of the child christened at New Ross as the -infant son of Viscount and Viscountess St. Amande, in the year -seventeen hundred and eleven?" - -"I do, your honour's worship." - -"And you have examined the neck and left arm of his lordship here," -indicating Gerald, "and find thereon precisely and exactly the same -marks?" - -"I do, your honour's worship." - -"You swear to that?" - -"I swear to it." - -"So be it." - -"Ay," exclaimed Robert St. Amande, "she may swear to it fifty times -an' she will. Doubtless fifty guineas would produce as many oaths. But -such evidence establishes no claim, nor does it prove even then that -my brother begot the brat. And this man here," pointing a lean and -shaking finger at my husband, whose self-control was most marvellous, -"is not that babe, I swear. The babe who was born at New Ross was -drowned in the Liffey in the year 'twenty-seven." - -"Then," asked Sir Philip Yorke, "if such was the case to your -knowledge, why, in the winter of that year, go out of your way to have -this man whom you deemed an impostor shipped to the colonies to be -sold as a slave in the plantations there? For that you did so -endeavour we have, you know, O'Rourke's sworn testimony; and his -accomplice, as you thought Mr. Quin to be, is in this house to produce -your acquittance to him for so doing." - -And he fixed his severe eyes on the other as he spoke. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -NEMESIS - - -Certainly Robert St. Amande looked now like a villain unmasked! All -eyes were fixed upon him as he rolled his own round upon the assembled -company; there was one pair, however, he did not see; the eyes of -Louise, Lady St. Amande, who from behind the great pipes of the organ, -had never ceased to gaze upon him and that other craven villain since -they entered; and that he stood before them most thoroughly exposed he -must have known well. Yet was his bravado such that he still -endeavoured to brazen it all out; he still attempted to assert his -wicked cause. Alas! I cannot think, even now, but that he would have -desisted and have withdrawn ere it was too late could he have foreseen -the dreadful tragedy that his conduct was to produce. - -After a few seconds he again found his tongue; once more he nerved -himself to address all in that saloon, defiant still and reckless in -the blackness of his heart. - -"He was to have been shipped to the plantations," he said, "not -because I deemed him the rightful Gerald St. Amande, but because I -knew him, even granting him to be the boy born at New Ross, to be -smirched in his birth; because I knew my brother was not his father. -'Twas for the honour of the family; of my family, of yours, my lord -Marquis, that no such child should ever sit in the place of honour. -And wherein did I sin? Your house, my lord, the house in which I hope -some day to sit as Marquis of Amesbury, has ere now refused the right -of peerage to those born in wedlock when 'twas well known that, in -spite of such birth, they had not been lawfully begotten. And that I -knew of him; I know it and proclaim now." As he spoke he glared even -more fiercely than before, so that his looks were terrible to see. -Then he continued, "You, Sir Philip Yorke, you have produced your -proofs to-day and have deemed them overwhelming. Now is the time, now -the hour, for me to produce mine. I do so. You challenge me to bring -forth evidence of the child's paternity other than that of my late -brother. Behold it, then. Here sits the man who is the father of that -other sitting there. 'Tis he, Wolfe Considine, the discarded admirer -of Louise Sheffield before her marriage, the accepted lover of Louise -St. Amande after her marriage, the father of Gerald St. Amande, the -man who has been wrongfully installed as Lord St. Amande in the Irish -peerage." - -"God!" exclaimed my husband. "This can be borne no longer." And, as he -spoke, he endeavoured to tear his sword from its sheath. Yet, between -us, the Marquis and I did manage to appease him for the time, while -the former whispered in his ear, "Tush, tush, be calm! Remember your -mother hears all. Ere long we will bring her forth to confute them. -Peace, I say." - -Then, clearly and distinctly upon all ears, there fell the crisp tones -of the Attorney-General addressing Robert St. Amande's accomplice. -"You have heard, sir," he said, "that which Mr. St. Amande hath -advanced. Do you confirm his words?" - -A swift glance passed between them--'twas plain to be observed; the -other hesitated a moment, and then, oh! unutterable villain, slowly he -bowed his head and said, "I do confirm them." - -I glanced at the organ as he spoke, I wondered how she behind it could -sit there so calm and unmoved if the last of her strength was not yet -gone; and then again Sir Philip Yorke was speaking: "Yet, Mr. Wolfe -Considine, your confirmation is somewhat strange. You were, if I -mistake not, proscribed as a rebel in the reign of Her late Majesty, -Queen Anne. I have a full description of you here, handed to me by the -Marquis. I will read it:--Wolfe Considine, late an officer in the -First Royal Scots Regiment, from which he deserted before Oudenarde. -Irishman, a spy in Scotland and traitor. Proscribed in seventeen -hundred and ten and fled to Hamburg. Now, sir, since you were absent -from England from that year until after the accession of the late King -in seventeen hundred and fourteen, will you tell us how you could -possibly be what you state you are, the father of Lord St. Amande!" - -"I--I--I was frequently back in England--in Ireland--at that time," he -stammered, "disguised and unknown to the Government. 'Twas there, -then, that I met Louise St. Amande." - -A terrible cry rang down the room as he spoke; a cry betwixt a scream -and a gasp, one that caused all our eyes to be turned to the spot -whence it came. And there we saw that which was enough to appal us; -which caused Gerald to spring to his feet and rush forward and made me -tremble and desire to weep. - -For, erect and strong, as though she had never known an illness; her -eyes fixed with an awful glare upon the unhappy wretch; her hands -twitching and closing and opening spasmodically, we saw advancing down -the room towards us the woman so foully calumniated. Back from her she -motioned her son, as though commanding him not to bar her passage; -slowly but unhaltingly she came on until, at last, she stood full face -in front of the coward-hearted scoundrel before her. "Liar," she -hissed forth, "liar! Deny it! Deny it! Retract! Retract!" - -He stood shivering before her, his ashen lips muttering and trembling, -though no sound came from them; he seemed, indeed, as though stricken -dumb. - -"Liar," again she said, still with the dreadful stare in her eyes as -though she gazed on some horror unspeakable, "liar! Retract! You sat -once at his board and ate of his dish; when you were beggared he gave -you money and clothed you; yet now you would steal his wife's honour -from him; the honour from his child. Retract! Retract, ere it is too -late!" - -He was dumb. Dumb with fear and dismay! He could frame no words in -answer to the spectre that had arisen before him; he could not meet -the glance of the poor paralysed woman whose strength had come back to -her so that she might confront him. Still she went on: - -"Retract, I say." And with those eyes piercing his soul, she -continued, "Was my early acquaintance with you--unsought by me and -never desired--fit justification for hurling the name of wanton at me -all these years? Was my poor unhappy husband's charity to you fit -justification for branding his child so vilely? See, here he stands -before you. See," and she struck Gerald, who remained by her side, so -fiercely on the breast as she indicated him that he bore the bruise -for some days. "See! Is he that thing you state? Answer, vile -traducer. Answer me." - -"For the love of God! be calm, mother. Heed him not," my husband -cried. - -But, instead, she heeded not her son and again continued, though as -she spoke she wiped her lips with her handkerchief, and all saw that -it had blood upon it when she had done so. - -"Retract, I say! Retract, I say! What! Shall a woman cherish above all -other things her honour only to have it fouled and maligned by any -crawling villain who chooses to speak the word? Am I--are all -women--at the mercy of such base things as you?" - -She gazed at him a moment and again she reiterated: - -"Retract! Retract! Retract, I say!" - -Still his lips quivered but uttered no sound; once he gazed round the -room as though seeking to escape; the perspiration stood in beads upon -his brow; his knees shook under him. And then, unhappy wretch! he -whispered: "I--I cannot; I dare not." - -They were the last he ever uttered. Swift as lightning darting from -the clouds, the right arm that had been so long paralysed was thrust -forth; in an instant her hand had seized the sword that hung by his -side and had torn it from its sheath; in another it had passed through -his body, the hilt striking against his breast. There was a piercing -scream from him, a thud as the body fell to the floor a moment after; -a clang of steel as she, after drawing forth the weapon from him, let -it fall from her now nerveless hand and, with a gasp, sunk into her -son's arms. - -"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she moaned, while from her lips there oozed a -thin red stream! "Oh, my dear one, at last I have repaid his attempt -upon our honour and now 'tis finished. My sweet, this is the end. I -have not five minutes' life left to me. Farewell." - -Once, as Gerald held her in his arms, she tried to put her own around -his neck, he helping her to do so, and then, opening her eyes wide, -she whispered, "Thrust a sword through a man's body, Gerald; through a -man's body," and so passed away. - -How shall I write further, how continue an account of that which I no -longer witnessed? The room swam before my eyes; I heard a terrible cry -escape from the white lips of Robert St. Amande; in a mist I saw the -horror-stricken faces of the assembled guests and of the Marquis. I -knew that Sir Robert Walpole called loudly for a physician and a -chirurgeon to be fetched; I saw the dead man lying at my feet, the -dead woman in her son's arms, and then I swooned and knew no more. - - - - - -THE NARRATIVE CONCLUDED BY GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE - -"AFTER THESE STORMS AT LAST A CALM" - - -Many years have passed since those events occurred which have been -written down by my dear wife and myself, and, hand in hand as ever, we -are beginning to grow old. Thus I, who was but a boy when my father -died and this history commenced, am now a middle-aged man fast nearing -forty. My children, too, are no longer to be regarded as children; -Gerald, my eldest boy, is promised a guidon in the Royal Regiment of -Horse Guards Blue. My second son is at home in England in preparation -for Oxford. My third, a little lad, is a midshipman serving under Sir -Charles Knowles, and, by his last letter, I gather that he is almost -as proud of the naval uniform which hath this year of grace, 1748, -been authorised to the King's Navy, as of the attack on Port Louis, in -St. Domingo, in which he took part. Of daughters I have been blessed -with one alone, who in name, as in features and complexion, resembles -what her dear mother must have been ere I had the good fortune to set -eyes on her. - -The Marquis of Amesbury has been dead twelve years, yet the House of -Lords has not yet called me to take my seat there as his successor. -This, however, is of supreme indifference to me--so much so, indeed, -that I have not yet petitioned them to enrol me in his place, though -Sir Robert Walpole, after he became Earl of Orford, frequently desired -me to do so, saying that it would be better done in his lifetime than -afterwards. Yet he is dead, too; and 'tis not done. Why should it be, -I often ask myself, except for my children's sake? I dwell in -Virginia, which spot I love exceedingly, and I am never like to dwell -anywhere else; while as for the Marquis's wealth it has all come to -me. Yet, as I say, for the children's sake I must some day make out my -claim to the honour. When I do so there can be no opposition to it. - -After that dreadful tragedy in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and after the -Marquis had sternly bade my uncle go forth and never darken his doors -again, Robert St. Amande--seeing, I suppose, that all was lost and -being, indeed, then very near to absolute destitution--betook himself -to the Temple Stairs, and, casting himself into the river, was swept -away by the fast ebbing tide and drowned, his body never being -recovered. He left a child, the boy by his second marriage that has -heretofore been spoken of, who has ever since been my care, and who -will be so as long as I live, as well as being provided for at my -death, but that he can dispute my children's birthright is, of course, -impossible. Nor, I think, is it probable he would have any desire to -do so, being in character most amiable and gentle as well as grateful, -and vastly different from his wretched half-brother, Roderick. - -The remains of my dear mother lie in the vaults of her own people, and -there the sad and loving heart of Louise St. Amande knows at least the -peace that was never accorded it in this world. Poor mother! Poor -stricken wife, how sad was your existence! The love you gave your -husband was doomed to slight and contumely; the love you gave your -child could never induce Fate to let that child stay long by your -side. And often as I meditate on her and on her strange life and -ending, I see her again as I saw her on that last day; I hear her last -whisper, "Thrust a sword through a man's body, Gerald." As I do so I -recognise fully that she had never forgotten the words we spoke -together in her lodgings in Denzil Street until the time came for them -to bring forth their fruits. - -Of the others who have figured in this narrative let me now speak -briefly. Oliver Quin, finding his occupation gone at my mother's -death--whom during her life he would never quit, being always a most -faithful and devoted servitor and friend---re-took up his old -business, and is now a thriving dealer of beasts and black cattle on -Tower Hill. Also has he been chosen as warden of the district in which -he dwells--which is close by where my kidnapping took place so long -ago--and he is a sidesman of his church, so that he is both -prosperous, respectable, and respected. When I am in England, which is -mostly once in every two or three years, we never fail to meet, he -coming to pass an evening or so with me in the great house in the -Fields, or I going to him in the City. And then, over a bottle of -sound wine if it be summer, or a sneaker of punch if winter, we talk -over our early adventures in Dublin and how we outwitted my uncle, and -I retail again and again to him the sequel to those adventures in -Virginia. Our wives know one another, too, for Quin hath married the -daughter of a poor clergyman in the Minories, she having been a -maid-servant in service of a rich cattle-dealer whom he knew; and they -admire one another's babes and talk much mother's prattle together. - -Kinchella likewise prospers in America, and doth well. He, too, has a -thriving family and is happy. Mary, for so I now permit myself to call -her, is my wife's greatest friend as ever, as their sons are my sons' -greatest friends when all are at home. Kinchella's eldest is at -Harvard; his youngest is at Trinity College, Dublin; and both are -intended for the ministry. If they follow in their father's footsteps -then must they be an ornament to that sacred calling, and go far -towards reforming that which still needs much reformation in our -colonies--the private lives of our divines. - -O'Rourke and I have never met again, yet I know that he is thriving -though he has grown very old. He dwells always at Savannah, in which -rising city he is one of the leading men, and we frequently have -correspondence with one another. And very touching and pathetic it -seemed to me to be when, on my writing him that, on my next journey -home, I intended to visit Ireland on my affairs, he asked me to take -with me some roots and cuttings to plant on his dead daughter's grave -in Dublin. "She died young," he wrote, "and ere you knew me. Had she -lived, may be your lordship would never have known me, for I might -have made a better life of it. She was all I had and she was taken -from me, and thus I turned reckless and dissolute. Thank God I have -seen the evil of my ways at last." - -Buck still keeps the tavern--with my wife's redemption acquittal, -which she gave to him as to all the bond-servants, framed above his -chimney-piece--and does well at that occupation and horse-rearing. -Lamb is growing very rich, having again quitted the sea and possessing -now a plantation and many servants both white and black of his own, -and bids fair to found a family. - -And now for ourselves, to conclude. That I am content with fate you -must surely know; who could be aught else who has ever by his side an -angel to guide, support, and minister to him? Through all the years -since first we met we have lived happily together, loving each other -most fondly, sharing each other's joys and troubles--which latter have -been but few--and being all in all to ourselves, with only our -children to partake of any portion of that love. She is still the same -as ever, her sweet, fair face as beautiful, her golden hair with -scarce a silver one in it; and, if her years have made her more -matronly, they have not robbed her of one charm. Nor is the gentle -disposition altered a jot; the trust and belief in others, the -unselfish nature, the simplicity and innocence of mind are as they -were on that summer day when first I saw her bending over her roses; -the day on which God raised up and gave to me the loving companion, -friend, and champion of my life and cause. - -After I have smoked my big pipe out and drunk my nightcap down, and -seen that all the servants are a-bed--for we live in her old house in -the same way her father and his fathers lived before us--I go to my -rest and, as I pass to it, look in to her retiring-room to give her -one fond, good-night kiss. Yet, often, ere I pull aside the hangings, -I have to pause and stand reverently without. For many a time that -room has become a shrine; within that shrine there is a saint. A saint -upon her knees, her fair white hands clasped, and in those hands her -golden head buried. A saint who prays to her God to bless her husband -and her children ever; a saint who thinks of nought for herself but of -all for those dear to her, and who, in that self-forgetfulness, finds -her deepest happiness. - -Than to possess such a fond heart as this there is no more to be -asked. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: A gossiping, chatting, or drinking place.] - -[Footnote 2: The mastiffs in Virginia were trained to worry figures -dressed as Indians, as well as being always taken out in any foray or -chase after either a band of them or an individual, and the antipathy -between these dogs and the savages was always very marked.] - -[Footnote 3: Unfortunately, such was the class of ministers who -originally went out to the American colonies (they generally being -outcasts from their own country) that, in this instance, Roderick St. -Amande was not only speaking the truth but also representing very -accurately the common feeling of the Indian tribes towards the -colonial clergyman.] - -[Footnote 4: The incident of the Indian woman's mercy is not -fictitious.] - -[Footnote 5: Indians taken prisoners by the colonists were sometimes -sold into slavery in Canada or the West Indies, where they generally -died soon.] - -[Footnote 6: So called from the poles smeared with blood which were -erected before the Seminoles' tents when on the warpath. The French -settlers also termed them "Bâtons Rouges," whence the name of the old -capital of Louisiana.] - - - -THE END - - - - -********************************************************* -F. W. S. Clarke & Co., Ltd., Criterion Press, Leicester. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Land of Bondage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF BONDAGE *** - -***** This file should be named 52957-8.txt or 52957-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/5/52957/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Library of the University of Illinois) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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V. White & Co., Limited"> -<meta name="Date" content="1905"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Bondage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Land of Bondage - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: September 2, 2016 [EBook #52957] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF BONDAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Library of the University of Illinois) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=tE9CAQAAMAAJ<br> -(Library of the University of Illinois)</p> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE LAND OF BONDAGE</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ROMANCES BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h4> -<div style="margin-left:20%"> -<p>THE HISPANIOLA PLATE<br> -IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY<br> -SERVANTS OF SIN<br> -THE YEAR ONE<br> -THE FATE OF VALSE<br> -ACROSS THE SALT SEAS<br> -THE CLASH OF ARMS<br> -DENOUNCED<br> -THE SCOURGE OF GOD<br> -FORTUNES MY FOE<br> -A GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER<br> -THE INTRIGUER'S WAY<br> -THE DESERT SHIP<br> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE LAND OF BONDAGE</h3> -<h4>A ROMANCE</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON</h4> - -<h5>AUTHOR OF<br> -"THE HISPANIOLA PLATE"<br> -"A DEAD RECKONING"<br> -ETC., ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><span style="font-size:smaller">LONDON</span><br> -F. V. WHITE & CO., LIMITED<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.<br> -1905</span></h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:80%; margin-left:20%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:10%; text-align:right"><col style="width:90%; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><b>CONTENTS</b></h4> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1Ref_I" href="#div1_I">PART I</a></h4> - -<h4><span class="sc">The Narrative of Gerald, Viscount St. Amande</span></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><b>CHAPTER</b></td> -<td></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Funeral.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">An Unpeaceful Passing.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Beggar and an Outcast.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Into The Land of Bondage.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Springe is Set.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Bird Draws Near.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Trapped.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">And Caged.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">My Mother.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Noble Kinsman.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Impressed.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><a name="div1Ref_II" href="#div1_II">PART II</a></h4> - -<h4><span class="sc">The Narrative of Joice Bampfyld of Virginia</span></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Colonial Plantation.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Bond Slave.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Slave's Gratitude!</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Visitor from England.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Another Visitor.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Red Man.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Besieged.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">At Bay.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Great Medicine Chief.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">In Captivity.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Amongst the Savages.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Denounced.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">'Twixt Bear and Panther.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><a name="div1Ref_III" href="#div1_III">PART III</a></h4> - -<h4><span class="sc">The Narrative of Lord St. Amande Continued</span></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Shawnee Trail.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">As Foemen Fight.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Long Peace.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Reward of a Traitor.</span></td> -</tr><tr> - -<td colspan="2"><h4><a name="div1Ref_IV" href="#div1_IV">PART IV</a></h4> - - -<h4><span class="sc">The Narrative of Joice Bampfyld Continued</span></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Homeward Bound.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">In the Land Where Their Fathers Dwelt.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Face To Face.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Nemesis.</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><a name="div1Ref_IV.1" href="#div1_IV.1"> -<span class="sc">The Narrative Concluded by Gerald, Viscount<br> -St. Amande</span></a></h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4><span class="sc">"After these Storms at last a Calm"</span></h4></td> -</tr></table> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>PREFACE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The groundwork of the following narrative, accompanied by a vast -number of papers and documents bearing on the main facts, was related -to me by the late Mr. Clement Barclay of Philadelphia, the last -descendant of an old Virginian family. On reading over these papers -and documents, I was struck by the resemblance which the story bore to -the history of another unfortunate young Englishman whose case created -much sensation in the English Law Courts at about the same period, -<i>i.e</i>., that of the reign of King George II. Recognising, however, -that the adventures of Lord St. Amande were not only more romantic -than those of that other personage, while his character was of a far -more noble and interesting nature, I resolved to utilise them for the -purpose of romance in the following pages, which are now submitted to -the public. Except that in some few cases, and those the principal, -the names have been altered, the characters bear the same names as in -the documents, private papers, journals and news-letters handed to me -by Mr. Barclay.</p> - -<p style="text-indent:60%">J. B.-B.</p> - -<p class="normal"><i>October</i>, 1904.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE LAND OF BONDAGE</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_I" href="#div1Ref_I">PART I</a></h4> -<br> - -<h5>THE NARRATIVE OF<br> -GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<h5>MY LORD'S FUNERAL</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And this was the end of it. To be buried at the public expense!</p> - -<p class="normal">To be buried at the public expense, although a Viscount in the Peerage -of Ireland and the heir to a Marquisate in the Peerage of England.</p> - -<p class="normal">The pity of it, the pity that it should come to this!</p> - -<p class="normal">A few years before, viz., in the fourth year of the reign of our late -Queen Anne, and the year of Our Lord, 1706, no one who had then known -Gerald, Lord Viscount St. Amande, would have ventured to foretell so -evil an ending for him, since he and life were well at evens with each -other. Ever to have his purse fairly well filled with crowns if not -guineas had been his lot in those days, as it had also been to have -good credit at the fashioners, to be able to treat his friends to a -fine turtle or a turbot at the coffee-houses he used, to take a hand -at ombra or at whisk, to play at pass-dice or at billiards, and to be -always carefully bedeck't in the best of satins and velvets and laces, -and to eat and drink of the best. For to eat and drink well was ever -his delight, as it was to frequent port clubs and Locketts or Rummers, -to empty his glass as soon as it was filled, to toss down beaker after -beaker, while, meantime, he would sing jovial chaunts and songs of -none too delicate a nature, fling a handful of loose silver to the -servers and waitresses, and ogle each of the latter who was comely or -buxom.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now he was being buried at the public expense!</p> - -<p class="normal">How had it come about? I must set it down so that you shall -understand. During this period of wassailing and carousing, of -ridottos at St. James's and dances at lower parts of the town, for he -affected even the haunts at Rotherhithe in his search for pleasure, as -he did those in the common parts of Dublin when he was in that, his -native, city--and during the time when he varied his pursuits by -sometimes frequenting the playhouses where he would regard fondly the -ladies at one moment and amuse himself by kicking a shop-boy or poor -clerk, or scrivener, at another, and by sometimes retiring into the -country for shooting, or hunting, or fighting a main, his heart had -become entendered towards a young and beautiful girl, one Louise -Sheffield.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had met her in the best class of company which he frequented, for, -although bearing no rank herself, she was of the best blood and race, -being indeed a niece to the Duke of Walton. Later on you shall see -this girl, grown into a woman, full of sorrows and vexations and -despite, and judge of her for yourself by that which I narrate. -Suffice it, therefore, if I write down the fact that she repaid his -love with hers in return and that, although she knew this handsome -gallant, Gerald, Lord St. Amande to be no better than a wastrel, a -tosspot and a gamer, she was willing to become his wife and to endow -him with a small but comfortable fortune that she possessed. Alas! -that she should ever have done so, for from that marriage arose all -the calamities, the sufferings and the heartaches that are to be -chronicled in this narrative.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the commencement all went awry. George, Marquis of Amesbury, to -whom this giddy, unthinking Lord St. Amande was kinsman and heir, did -hate with a most fervent hatred John, Duke of Walton, they having -quarrelled at the succession of the Queen, when the Marquis espoused -the cause of her Majesty, while the Duke was all for proclaiming the -Pretender; and thus the whole of Lord St. Amande's family was against -the match. The ladies, especially his mother and sister, threw their -most bitter rancour into the scales against the bride, they -endeavoured to poison his mind against her by insinuating evil conduct -on her part previous to her marriage, and they persuaded the Marquis -to threaten my lord with a total withdrawal of his favour, as well as -a handsome allowance that he made annually to his heir, if he did not -part from her.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first he would not listen to one word against her--he had not owned -his bride long enough to tire of her; also some of her fortune was not -yet wasted. Yet gradually, as he continued in his evil courses, -becoming still fonder of his glass and rioting, and as her fortune -declined at the same time that he felt bitterly the pinch occasioned -by the withdrawal of the Marquis's allowance, he did begin to hearken -to the reports spread broadcast against his young wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had borne him a child, dead, during his absence in Ireland, and it -was after this period that he began to give credence to the hints -against her; and thus it was that while he was still in that country -he sent to his mother a power of attorney, authorising her to sue to -the Lords for a divorce, as his representative. This petition, -however, their Lordships refused, dismissing the plea with costs -against him, saying that there was no truth in his allegations, and -stigmatising them as scandalous.</p> - -<p class="normal">And then he learnt that he had indeed wronged her most bitterly and, -turning upon his mother and sister, went over to England where, upon -his knees, he besought his wife for her pardon, weeping many tears of -contrition as he did so, while she, loving him ever in spite of all, -forgave him as a woman will forgive. Then they passed back to Ireland -where, she being again about to become a mother, he cherished her with -great care and tenderness, and watched over her until she had -presented him with a son.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, such was this man's sometime evil temper and brutality of nature -that, on the Duke of Walton refusing to add more money to the gift he -had already made her--the original fortune being now quite -dissipated--he banished her from his house and she, flying to England, -was forced to take refuge with the Duke and, worse still, to leave her -child behind.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, therefore, you shall see how it befell that, at last, he owed -even his coffin and his grave to charity.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she was gone from him, he, loving the child in his strange way, -proclaimed it as his heir, put it to nurse in the neighbourhood, and -invariably spoke of it as the future Lord St. Amande and Marquis of -Amesbury. But, unfortunately for this poor offspring of his now dead -love, he became enamoured of a horrid woman, a German queen, who had -come over to England at the time of the succession of King George--for -over twenty years had now passed since his marriage with the Duke of -Walton's niece--a woman who had set up in Dublin as a court fashioner, -lace merchant and milliner. But she had no thought for him, being in -truth much smitten with his younger brother, Robert, and she persuaded -him that to relieve himself of the dire poverty into which he had -fallen, it would be best that he should give out that his son was dead -and secrete him, so that he and Robert, who would then be regarded by -all men as the heir, could proceed to dispose of the estate. And my -lord's intellects being now bemused with much drink and other -disordered methods of life, besides that he was in bitter poverty, -agreed to do this and gave out that the son was dead and that he and -his brother were about to break the entail.</p> - -<p class="normal">And even this villainy, which might have seemed likely to ward off his -penury for at least some years, did nothing of the sort, but, indeed, -only brought him nearer to the pauper's grave to which he was -hurrying. So greedy was he for money--as also was his brother, who, -knowing that while the boy lived <i>he</i> could never succeed to the -estates, was naturally very willing to dispose of them at any -price--that large properties were in very truth sold for not more -than, and indeed rarely exceeded, half a year's purchase! How long was -it to be imagined that the half of such sums would last this poor -spendthrift who no sooner felt his purse heavy with the guineas in it -than he made haste to lighten it by odious debaucheries and -wassailings and carousings? His clothes, his laces, nay, even his wigs, -his swords, and his general wearing apparel had long since gone to the -brokers, so that, at the time of selling the properties, he was to be -seen going about Dublin with a rusty cutbob upon his once handsome -head, a miserable ragged coat that had once been blue but had turned -to green with wear, ornamented with Brandenburgh buttons, upon his -back, and a common spadroon reposing on his thigh and sticking half a -foot out of its worn-out sheath, instead of the jewel-hilted swords he -had once used to carry.</p> - -<p class="normal">To conclude, he fell sick about this time--sick of his debauches, -sick, it may be, from recollections of the evil he had done his -innocent wife and child, and sick, perhaps, from the remembrance of -how he had wasted his life and impaired the prospects of his rightful -heir. Ill and sick unto death, with not one loving hand to minister to -him, no loving voice to say a word of comfort to him, and dying in a -garret, to pay for which the woman who rented it to him had now taken -his last coat. His wife was in England, sick herself and living on a -small trifle left her by her uncle, now dead; his son, sixteen years -of age, had escaped from the custody of a ruffian named O'Rourke, by -whom he had been kept closely confined and reported dead, and, of all -men, most avoided his unnatural father. What time his brother Robert -would not have given him a crust to prolong his life and was indeed -looking forward to his death with glee and eager anticipation.</p> - -<p class="normal">So he died, with none by his pallet but the hag who owned the garret -and who was waiting for the breath to be out of his body to send that -body to the parish mortuary. So he died, sometimes fancying that he -was back in the bagnios he had found so pleasant, sometimes weeping -for a sight of his child and for the wrongs he had done that child, -sometimes, in his delirium, bellowing forth the profligate songs that -such creatures as D'Urfey and Shadwell had made popular amongst the -depraved. And sometimes, also, moaning for his Louise to come back and -pity him, and forgive him once again in memory of the sweetness of -their early love.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, therefore, you see how this once handsome lordling--and handsome -as Apollo he was in his younger days, I have heard his wife say, -though wicked as Satan--was brought so low that, from ruffling it with -the best, he came to dying in a filthy garret and being buried at the -public expense. Alas, alas! who can help but weep and wring their -hands when they think on such a thing, and when they reflect on all -the evil that Gerald, Lord St. Amande, wrought in his life and the -bitter heritage of woe he left behind to those whom he should, -instead, have loved and cherished, and made good provision for.</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas a dull November day, in the year of our Lord, 1727, and the -first of the reign of our present King George II., that the funeral -procession--if so poor and mean an interment as this may be so -termed--passed over Essex Bridge on its way to the burying ground -where the body was to be deposited. Yet how think you a future peer of -the realm should be taken to his last home, how think you one of his -rank should be taken farewell of? This man had once held the King's -commission, he having carried the colours of his regiment at -Donauwerth and been present as a lieutenant at Tirlemont, at both of -which the great Marlborough had commanded--therefore upon his coffin -there should have been a sword and a sash at least, with, perhaps, a -flag. He stood near unto a marquisate, therefore his coffin should -have been covered with purple velvet and the plate upon it should have -been of silver. Yet there were no such things. His swords, you know by -now, were pawned; his sashes had gone the way of his laces, apparel -and handsome wigs. The bier on which he was drawn was, therefore, but -a common thing on which the bodies of beggars, of Liffey watermen and -of coach-drivers were often also drawn; the coffin was a poor, deal -encasement with, nailed roughly on it, some black cloth; the -name-plate bearing the description of his rank and standing--oh, -hollow mockery!--was of tin.</p> - -<p class="normal">And yet even this was obtained but at the public expense!</p> - -<p class="normal">A dull November day, with, rolling in from the Channel, great masses -of sea fog, damp and wet, that made the dogs in the street creep -closer to the house doors for shelter and warmth, and the swine in the -streets to huddle themselves together for greater comfort. A day on -which those who had no call to be out of doors warmed themselves over -fires, or gathered round tavern tables and drank drams of nantz and -usquebaugh; a day which no man would care to think should resemble the -day on which he would himself be put away into the earth for ever. But -the melancholy of the elements and the weather were the only part of -the wretched funeral of this man for which he had not been -responsible. The gloom and the fog and the damp he could not help, -since none, whether king or pauper, can fix the date of their death, -or choose to die and go to their last home amidst the shining of the -sun and the singing of the birds and the blooming of the flowers, in -preference to the miseries of the winter. But all else he might have -avoided had he so chosen.</p> - -<p class="normal">For he might have been borne--not to a beggar's grave, but to the tomb -of his own illustrious family in England--amidst pomp and honour had -he so willed it; the pomp and honour of a Marquis's heir, the pomp and -honour of a gallant officer who had fought under the greatest general -that England had ever known, and for his mourners he might have had a -loving wife and child weeping for his loss.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only he would not, and so there was not one that day to shed a tear -for him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<h5>AN UNPEACEFUL PASSING</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">So the funeral passed over Essex Bridge and by the French Church, on -the steps of which there sat a boy who, on its approach, sprang to his -feet and, from behind a pillar of the porch, fixed his eyes firmly on -those who attended it.</p> - -<p class="normal">A boy of between fifteen and sixteen years of age, tall and, thus, -looking older, and clad partly in rags and partly in clothes too big -for him. To be explicit, his hose was torn and mended and torn again, -his shoes were burst and broken and his coat which, though threadbare -was sound, hung down nearly to his feet and was roomy enough for a man -of twenty, to whom indeed it had once belonged till given in charity -to its present owner. By the boy's side there stood a big, burly man -with a red, kindly face and a great fell of brown hair, himself -dressed in the garb of a butcher, and with at the moment, as though he -had but just left the block, his sharpening steel hanging at his side. -Also, on the steps of the church were one or two gentlemen arrayed in -their college gowns and caps, as if they too had strolled forth at the -moment from Trinity and had happened upon the spot, while, around and -under the stoops of the neighbouring houses, were gathered together -several groups of beggars and ragamuffins and idle ne'er-do-wells.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now you shall hear a strange thing, for, as the bier with its mean -burden came close, so that the features of those who accompanied it -might be plainly perceived through the fog, the butcher, turning to -the lad dressed as a scarecrow, said, "<i>My lord</i>, stand forth and show -thyself. Here come those who have put it about that you have been dead -these two years, and who, if they had their will, would soon have you -dead now. Show thyself therefore, I say, Lord St. Amande, and prove -that thou art alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, do," one of the collegians added. "If the news from London be -true, thy uncle, Robert, has already proclaimed himself the new lord, -and it is as well that the contrary should be proved."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus solemnly adjured, the boy did stand forth and, figure of fun -though he looked, gazed fiercely on those who rode behind his father's -coffin.</p> - -<p class="normal">There were but three mourners--if such these ghouls could be called -who followed the body to its last resting place, not with any desire -to pay a tribute to the dead, but rather with the desire of satisfying -themselves, and one other, their master, that it was indeed gone from -the world for ever--two men mounted and a woman in a one-horse hackney -coach.</p> - -<p class="normal">All were evil-looking, yet she was the worst, and, as she peered forth -from the window, the beggars all about groaned at her while the -students regarded her with looks of contempt. She was the German woman -who had come to Dublin when the late King had come to London, and was -called Madame Baüer, and was now no longer young. That she may once -have been comely is to be supposed, since the late Herr Baüer was said -to have been a wealthy German gentleman who ruined himself for -her--if, indeed, he had ever existed, which many doubted--and also -since the dead man now going to his grave had formed a passion for -her, while his usurping brother was actually said to be privately -married to her. Yet of a certainty, she had no beauty now, her face -being of a fiery red, due, it was whispered, to her love of strong -waters; her great staring and protuberant eyes were of a watery -blue-green hue, and her teeth were too prominent and more like those -of an animal. And when the small crowd groaned at her and called her -"painted Jezebel"--though she needed no paint, in truth--she gnashed -those teeth at them as though she would have liked to tear and rend -them ere she sank back into the carriage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of the men who followed the bier one was a pale cadaverous-looking -person, with about him some remnants of good looks, his features being -not ill-formed, though on his face, too, there were the signs of -drinking and evil-living in the form of blotches and a red nose that -looked more conspicuous because of the lividness of his skin. This man -was Wolfe Considine, a gentleman by birth, and of an ancient Irish -family, yet now no better than a hanger-on to Robert St. Amande; a -creature who obeyed his orders as a dog obeys its master's orders, and -who was so vile and perjured a wretch that for many years, when out of -the reach of Lord St. Amande, he had allowed it to be hinted that he -was in truth the father of that lord's son, and, if not that, had at -least been much beloved by Lord St. Amande's wife. In obedience, -perhaps, to his master's orders he wore now no signs of mourning but, -instead, rode in a red coat much passemented with tarnished gold lace, -as was the case with his hat, and with his demi-peaked saddle quilted -with red plush, while the twitter-boned, broken-winded horse he -bestrode gave, as well as his apparel, but few signs that his employer -bestowed much care upon him. The man who paced beside him was liveried -as a servant and rode a better horse, and was doubtless there in -attendance on him and the woman in the coach.</p> - -<p class="normal">Noticing the ominous and glowering looks of the beggars on the -sidewalk as well as the contemptuous glances of the students standing -by the steps of the French Church, Considine drew his horse nearer to -the coach and spoke to the inmate thereof, saying:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I' faith, my lady, they seem to bear no good will to us judging by -their booings and mutterings, for it cannot be to this poor dead thing -that their growls are directed--<i>he</i> was beloved enough by them, at -any rate, so long as he had a stiver in his purse with which to treat -them to a bowl of hypsy or a mug of ale."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman in the hackney glanced at the beggars again with her cold, -cruel eyes as he spoke, but ere she could reply, if indeed she -intended to do so, she shrank back once more, seeing that from the -crowd there was emerging an old woman, a hideous creature bent double -with age, who leaned upon a stick and who shock as though with the -palsy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What want you, hag?" asked Considine, while as he spoke he pricked -the horse he rode with the spur, as though he would ride over her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To look upon the coffin of a gentleman," she answered, waving at the -same time her crutch, or stick, so near to the animal's nostrils that -it started back, almost unseating its rider. "To look upon the coffin -of a gentleman, and not upon such scum as you and that thing there," -pointing to the woman who had been addressed as "my lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Proceed," called out Considine to the driver of the bier. "Why tarry -you because of this woman. Proceed, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">But here a fresh interruption occurred, for, as he spoke, the butcher, -motioning to the lad with him to remain where he was, descended the -steps of the church and, coming forward, said in a masterful manner:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! That shall you not do yet. Wolfe Considine, you must listen to -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To thee, rapscallion," said the other, looking down on him, yet -noting his great frame as he did so. "To thee. Wherefore, pray, to -thee? If you endeavour to stop this funeral the watch shall lay you by -the heels, and my lady here shall hale you before a Justice for -endeavouring to prevent the interment of her brother-in-law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'My lady! Her brother-in-law!'" repeated the butcher contemptuously, -and glancing into the hackney carriage as he did so. "'My lady! Her -brother-in-law!' Why, how can she be either?" and he smiled at the -red-faced woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You Irish dog," she said, now protruding her head from the window. -"The law shall teach you how I am both, at the same time that it -chastises you for your insolence. Let us pass, however."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall not pass until you have heard me. Nay, Wolfe Considine, -put not thy hand upon thy sword. There is no courage in thy craven -heart to draw it. What! shall he who ran away from Oudenarde--thou -knowest 'tis truth; I fought, not ran away, as a corporal there -myself--threaten a brave and honest man with his sword? Nay, more, why -should he wear one--? I' faith, I have a mind to take it from thee. -Yet even that is not the worst, though the Duke did threaten to brand -thy back if ever he clapt eyes on thee again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here the collegians, in spite of the halted bier with the dreary -burden on it, burst into laughter, while Considine trembled with rage -and was now white as a corpse himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That, I say, is scarce the worst. You speak of the watch to me--you! -Why! call them, call all the officers of the law and see which they -shall arrest first. An honest man or a thief. Ay, a thief! I say a -thief." He advanced closer to Considine as he spoke. "A thief, I say -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Vile wretch! the law shall punish you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Summon it, I tell you. Summon it. Then shall we see."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, changing his address, which had been up to this moment made -to Considine alone, he turned half round to the crowd--which had much -augmented since the altercation began and the stopping of the funeral -had taken place--and addressing all assembled there, he said in a loud -voice so that none but those who were stone deaf could fail to hear -his words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen all you who to-day see the body of the late Lord St. Amande on -its way to the grave, listen I say to the villainy of this creature, -Wolfe Considine, the tool and minion of the man Robert St. Amande, who -now claims to have succeeded to his honours. Hear also how far -she,"---and he pointed his finger to the hackney carriage where the -woman glowered out at him--"has aided both these scoundrels."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By heavens, you shall suffer for this," exclaimed Considine, "to -defame a peer is punishable with the hulks----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush," answered the other, "I defame no peer, for he is none. The -true peer is Gerald St. Amande, the younger, now the Lord Viscount St. -Amande since his father's death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou fool," bellowed Considine, "he is dead long since. 'Tis well -known."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it so? Well, let us see. But first answer me, Wolfe Considine, -deserter from the colours of Her Majesty Queen Anne's 1st Royal Scots' -Regiment, panderer and creature of the usurper Robert St. Amande, -purloiner of the body of the present Lord St. Amande--said I not you -were a thief?--instigator of murder to the villain, O'Rourke, who -would have slain the child or, at least, have shipped him off a slave -to the Virginian plantations; traducer of an honest lady's fame who, -so far from favouring thee, would not have spat upon thee. Answer me, -I say, and tell me if you would know that dead child again were you to -set your eyes upon it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He hurled forth these accusations against the wretch shivering on his -horse with so terrible a voice, accompanied by fierce looks, that the -other could do naught but writhe under them and set to work to bawl -loudly for the watch as he did so, and to offer a gibing beggar who -stood near a crown to run and fetch them, which the beggar refused, so -that at last the servant started to find them. But, meanwhile, the -butcher again began:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is dead long since, is he? Well, we will see." Then beckoning to -the lad in rags still standing on the steps of the French Church, he -said, "Lord St. Amande, come hither and prove to this perjured villain -that thou art no more dead than he who would have had thee so."</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly, therefore, I descended--for I who write these lines was that -most unhappy child, Lord St. Amande, as perhaps you who read them may -have guessed--and slowly in my tatters I went down and stood by him -who had succoured me, and fixed my eyes on that most dreadful villain, -Wolfe Considine.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, the effect upon him was wonderful to witness, for verily I -thought he would have had a fit and fallen from his horse. His eyes -seemed to be starting forth from his head, his cadaverous face became -empurpled, his hands twitched, and all the while he muttered, "Alive! -Alive! yet O'Rourke swore that he was safe at the bottom of the -Liffey--the traitor! Alive!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke so low and muttered so hoarsely to himself that I have ever -doubted if any other but I and Oliver Quin, the butcher, heard his -self-condemnatory words--by which he most plainly acknowledged his -guilt and the part he had played in endeavouring to get me made away -with. But, ere he could say more, he received support from the woman, -Baüer, or "Madam," as she was generally called, who, descending now -from her hackney carriage, thrust aside the beggars around it and -advanced towards me.</p> - -<p class="normal">That she was a woman of courage need not be doubted, for, although -these miserable gutter-birds had hitherto been jeering at her to even -such an extent as remarking on the redness of her face and the -probable cause thereof, she at this time awed them by her manner. Her -eyes flaming, her great white teeth gleaming like those of a hunted -wolf as it turns to tear its pursuers, she thrust them all aside (she -being big and of masculine proportions) and exclaiming, "Out you -wretches, away you kennel dogs, stand back, I say, you Irish curs," -made her way to me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me see," she said, seizing me roughly by the collar, "the brat -who is to be palmed upon us as the dead child. Let me see him." And -then, as she gazed in my face, she burst into a loud, strident laugh, -while in her harsh voice and her German accent (which she had always) -she exclaimed, "So this is the beggar's brat who is to be thrust in -before us as a son of this dead lord," pointing to my father's -coffin--"this thing of rags and filth. Man," she said, turning -suddenly upon Quin, "man, know you the punishment awarded those who -falsely endeavour for their own evil ends to deprive rightful -inheritors of what is theirs? You shall so suffer for this vile -imposture that you had better have been slain at Oudenarde--of which -you boast so freely--than ever have lived to see to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With the respect due to such as you, Madam Baüer----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fellow, I am the Viscountess St. Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay. Nay! Even though you be Robert St. Amande's wife--as most people -doubt"--she struck at him with her hand as he said this, which blow he -avoided easily, so that she over-reached herself and nearly fell, at -which the crowd jeered--"even then you are not Lady St. Amande. There -is but one, this poor lad's mother, now sick in England but safe from -your evil attempts. And, Madam Baüer, it is more meet that I should -ask if <i>you</i> know what is the punishment of such malefactors as those -who endeavour for their own evil ends to deprive rightful inheritors -of what is theirs?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The imposition shall not go unpunished, this boy shall indeed be sent -to the plantations and, with him, you, you ruffian. I will myself seek -out the King sooner than he shall escape."</p> - -<p class="normal">But here there stepped forth one of the collegians who had been near -me all through this most strange scene, a grave and pious youth of -twenty years of age--'twas his coat I was wearing--who said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"By your favour, madam, it is impossible that the boy should be -punished. I am from New Ross in the County of Wexford myself,"---both -she and Considine started at this---"where his father dwelt much. I -have known the lad from his birth, as a child myself I took part in -the festivities--alas! terrible debaucheries and drinkings!--which -this poor dead lord caused to be made in honour of his birth. I have -known him all his life, and that he is the present Lord St. Amande -none can doubt. Added to which, madam, there must be fully five -hundred people in Ireland, including his pastors and teachers, to say -nothing of those in England, who can equally speak for him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a lie," Considine shouted, having now regained something of his -courage, "It is a lie. I, too, knew the lad who was son to Lord St. -Amande, and he is dead and this brat is not he."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Considine," said the young student, his pale face reddening, "I -am intended for the Ministry, but being not yet ordained no man may -insult me with impunity, nor doubt my word. Much less such a foul -braggart as you, therefore, unless you ask my pardon on the moment I -will pull you down from off that horse and force you to beg it of me -in the mud at my feet." And he advanced towards Considine with his arm -outstretched to carry out his threat.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that person being never disposed to fight with anyone, instantly -taking off his hat said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, my words were ill chosen. I ask your pardon for them. I should -have said that I feared, as I still do, that you are grievously -mistaken."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<h5>A BEGGAR AND AN OUTCAST</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And thus, in such a dreadful way and amidst such surroundings--with -brawling in the streets and insults hurled over his body from one to -another--was my father buried. Alas! unhappily such scenes and -terrifying episodes were but a fitting prologue to the stormy life -that was henceforth before me for many years; I say a fitting prologue -to the future.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the craven Considine had made, or rather been compelled to make, -his amends to Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, the young student, my protector, -Quin, announced that, since he had produced the rightful Lord St. -Amande and exhibited him to the public at so fitting a moment as his -father's funeral procession (so that, henceforth, there were in -existence witnesses who could testify to the assertion of my claim), -he had no more to say, except that he hoped that the spirit of the -dead peer would forgive the interruption in consequence of the good -which he wished to do to his son. And he also announced with great -cheerfulness the pleasure which he had experienced in being able to -tell Mr. Wolfe Considine to his face his appreciation of his -character.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So that," he said to that person, as once more the procession set -out, "if, henceforth, any one in Dublin shall be so demented as to -deem you an honest man and to be deceived by you, they owe thanks to -none but themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ruffian!" said Considine, brazening it out, however, "thou art -the cock o' the walk for the moment, yet think not to escape -punishment. Thou hast to-day threatened and reviled a gentleman of -birth and consideration, for which thou shalt clearly suffer; thou -hast insulted, slandered and abused a peer and a peeress of His -Majesty's realm, for which thou shalt lie in the bilboes and gemmaces. -Thou hast also endeavoured to usurp my lord's rightful rank and degree -by passing off a base counterfeit of his brother's dead child, for -which the punishment is death, or, at least, branding in the hand and -being sold to slavery in the plantations, all of which thou and thy -accomplice shall most surely receive ere many days are sped."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, turning to the driver of the bier, he ordered him to proceed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tut, tut, tut," exclaimed Oliver. "Thou art but an empty windbag, -tho' 'tis well that thou hast an accurate knowledge of the law--yet, I -misdoubt if it will save thee when thy time comes. But, as thou -sayest, let the funeral proceed, and, for further assurance of thy -position, young sir," he said to me, "we will accompany it on foot. -Let us see who will prevent us."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, seizing me by the hand, we set out to follow my father's body.</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And now you, my children, for whom I write this narrative (and your -children who in the fulness of time shall come after you), have seen -in how wretched a manner I, who should have been cradled in luxury, -began my existence at my father's death. Had that father been as he -should have been, or had even my uncle, Robert, been an honest man, or -had the head of our house, the Marquis of Amesbury, looked properly to -the rights of his lawful successor, Ulster King-at-Arms would have -enrolled me on the certificate of the late lord's death as Gerald St. -Amande, Viscount St. Amande, in the peerage of Ireland, and heir -apparent of the Marquisate of Amesbury in the peerage of England. Yet, -see what really happened. The King-at-Arms refused so to enrol me, on -the petition of my uncle--though this was somewhat later,--in spite of -much testimony on my behalf from countless people who had known me, -and, instead of enjoying luxury, I was a beggar. At the time when I -begin this history of my cares and sorrows, and of the wanderings -which will be set down in their due Order, and the hardships that I -have been forced to endure, I, a tender child, was dependent on -strangers for the bread I ate and the clothing I wore. Until I fell in -with honest Oliver Quin, himself a poor butcher, I had, after escaping -from O'Rourke, who endeavoured to drown me and then kept me in a -cellar, been lurking about Dublin, sleeping sometimes on a wharf, -sometimes in the many new houses then a-building (three thousand were -built in this great city between the accession of the late king and -the year of which I now write, viz., 1727), sometimes against a shop -bulk or a glass-house for warmth, and sometimes huddling with other -outcasts on the steps and in the stoops of houses and churches. Food I -had none but I could beg or wrest from the dogs, or the many swine -which then roamed about the streets like dogs themselves. And, -sometimes, I and my wretched companions would kill one of these latter -stealthily by night, and, having roasted parts of it in some empty -house, would regale ourselves thereby. My father I avoided as a -pestilence, for him I regarded as the unnatural author of all my -sufferings. I knew afterwards that I misjudged him, I knew that he had -never meant me to be harmed by O'Rourke, but only kept out of the way -so that he might get money for his evil doings, he feeling sure that, -when he should die, my succession to the rank, if not the estates -(which he had made away with) could not be disputed. But, as I say, I -regarded him as my worst enemy, and, when I saw him come reeling down -the street jovial with drink, or, on other occasions, morose and sour -from ungratified desire for it, I fled from him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then I, by great good chance, fell in with Quin, who was but a -journeyman butcher earning poor wages and much dissatisfied with his -lot, and who, coming from Wexford to Dublin to better that lot, had -recognised me at once as the boy who was always styled the Honourable -Gerald St. Amande in the county, and, out of the goodness of his -heart, succoured me. But what could he do? He himself dwelt near the -shambles, earning but eleven shillings a week, which had to suffice -for all his wants, so that, if sometimes as I passed his master's shop -he could toss me a scrag of mutton or a mouthful of beef--which I -found means to cook by some outcast's fire--it was as much assistance -as he could render. And from Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, himself but a -poor sizar, and, as he stated, also from my neighbourhood and -consequently willing to assist me, I could ask nothing. Beyond his -"size," which was an allowance of a farthing's worth of bread and beer -daily, he had but ten pounds a year from his father wherewithal to -clothe himself and find such necessaries as he required, above that -which he was entitled to as a servitor. Yet was he ever tender to me, -and would say when I crept into the college to see him:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, Gerald, is the beer and here the bread. Drink and eat thy fill -to such extent as it will go, which is not much. However, for myself I -can get more. But I wish I could do more for thee than give thee these -poor victuals and cast-off garments. Yet, <i>tunica pallio propior</i>, -and, as I cannot give thee my skin, I will give thee the best coat I -can spare." Which he did, though, poor youth, it was little enough he -had for himself, let alone to give away.</p> - -<p class="normal">From my mother I had, alas! long been parted, for though when I was in -my father's keeping, after she had fled from him, she had made many -attempts to wrest me from him and to get me away to England, she, too, -had come to believe that I had either died in the hands of, or been -killed by, the villain O'Rourke, so that of her I had now heard -nothing for more than two years. But as Mr. Kinchella had written her -informing her of her husband's impending death, of my safety for the -time being, and also of the probable usurpation by my uncle, we were -looking for some news of her by every English packet that came in. "If -her ladyship can compass it," this good and pious young man said on -the night after my father's burial, and when he and Oliver and I sat -in his room over the fire, "she should come to Dublin at once. There -is much to be done at which alone she can help, and it will want all -the assistance of her family to outwit thy uncle. Unfortunately my -lord did go about the city saying that you were dead and that, -therefore, he and his brother were at liberty to dispose of the -property, and, thus, there is a terrible amount of evidence to contend -against."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With submission, sir," Oliver said, "surely all that should make in -the young lord's favour. For who shall doubt that his mother can swear -to him as their child? Then there are the peasants with whom he was -placed as an infant at New Ross, and, again, the tutors he was with, -both there and here and in England, to say nothing of many servants. -While, to add to all, his uncle has made himself a criminal by -seconding his father in the false reports of his death and obtaining -money thereby. With my lady's evidence and yours and mine alone, to -say nothing of aught else, we should surely be able to move the -King-at-Arms to enregister him as his father's heir."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, oh, untoward fate! my mother could not come, but in her place -sent a letter which, being of much importance as affecting all that -afterwards occurred, I here set down, fairly copied.</p> - -<p class="normal"><i>From the Viscountess St. Amande, at</i> 5 <i>Denzil Street, Clare Market, -ye </i>29<i>th of November</i>, 1727.</p> - -<p class="normal"><i>To Mr. Jonathan Kinchella, -Student, -Trinity College, Dublin</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">Honoured Sir,</p> - -<p class="normal">My deepest gratitude is due to you for the pains you have been at to -write to me under the care of my late uncle's bankers, which -communication has safely reached me. Sir, I do most grievously note -that my lord and husband, the Viscount St. Amande lyeth sick unto -death--(Mr. Kinchella had written when Quin had learned from the woman -my father lodged with that there was no hope for him)--and also in -dire poverty; and, ill as he hath treated me, I do pray that his end -may be peace. Moreover, if you or any friend of yours should see him -and he should be able to comprehend your words, I do beseech you to -tell him that I forgive him all he has done to me and that, in another -and a better world, to which I believe myself to be also hastening, I -hope to meet him once more, though, whether he live or die, we can -never meet again upon this earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, sir, if the news which you give me of the grievous state in which -my lord lies is enough to wring my heart, what comfort and joy shall -not that heart also receive in learning that my beloved child, whom I -thought dead and slain by his father's cruelty, is still alive, and -that he, whom I have mourned as gone from me for ever, should live to -be restored to his mother's arms? Yet, alas! I cannot come to him as I -fain would and fold him in my arms, for I am sorely stricken with the -palsy which creepeth ever on me, though, strange to relate, there are -moments, nay hours, when I am free from it, so that sometimes my -physician doth prophesy a recovery, which, however, I cannot bring -myself to hope or believe. And, moreover, honoured sir, I am without -the means to travel to Dublin. My uncle, when he rescued me from my -unhappy husband's hands, provided me with one hundred guineas a year, -which, at his death last year, he also willed, should be continued to -me while parted from my husband. But if he dies that ceases also, -since my uncle, the Duke, did naturally suppose that I by settlement -shall be well provided for, tho' now I doubt if such is likely to -prove the case.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, though well I know my brother-in-law to be a most uncommon bad -man and one who will halt at nothing to further his own gains, I -cannot believe that the law will allow him to falsely possess himself -either of my child's rank and title, or of aught else that may be his -inheritance, though I fear there is but little property left, short of -his succession to the Marquisate of Amesbury. But, honoured sir, since -it is not possible that I can come to my boy, could he not come to me? -He would assuredly be as safe in London, if not safer, under the -protection of his mother, as in Dublin where, you say, he lurketh, and -where, I cannot doubt, his uncle will take steps to bring about harm -to him. Here he would be with me and, since my uncle is now dead, it -may be that the Marquis will be more kindly disposed towards him and, -even at the worst, he cannot refuse to recognise him. Therefore, sir, -if the wherewithal could be found for bringing or sending him to -London, I would see the cost defrayed out of my small means, on which -you may rely.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, honoured sir, I now conclude, begging you to believe that I thank -you from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done for my -child, and that also I thank the honest man, Mr. Quin, of whom you -speak, and I do most earnestly pray that the God of the fatherless and -the orphan may reward you for all. And, sir, with my greatest -consideration to you, and a mother's fondest love to my child, whom I -pray to see ere long, I remain your much obliged and grateful,</p> -<p style="text-indent:50%"><span class="sc">Louise St. Amande.</span></p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Gerald," said Mr. Kinchella, when he had concluded reading this -letter to me, over which, boy-like, I shed many tears, "her ladyship -speaks well. Dublin is no place for thee. If in his lordship's -lifetime you were not safe, how shall you be so when now you alone -stand between your uncle and two peerages?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," I exclaimed, while in my heart there had arisen a wild desire -to once more see the dear mother from whom I had been so ruthlessly -torn, "yet how could it be accomplished? Surely the cost of a journey -to London would be great!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have still a guinea or two in my locker," said Mr. Kinchella, "if -that would avail--though I misdoubt it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a better plan, sir," exclaimed Quin, who was also of the party -again on this occasion. "If his young lordship would not object to -voyaging to London entirely by sea, there are many cattle-ships pass -between that port and this by which he might proceed. Or, again, he -might pass from here to Chester, there being many boats to Park Gate, -or he might proceed to Milford."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet he is over-young for such a journey," said kind Mr. Kinchella; he -being, as ever, thoughtful for me. But I replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, have I not had to endure worse when I was even younger? The deck -of a cattle-boat is of a certainty no worse than O'Rourke's cellar, -and, however long the passage, of a surety there will be as much -provision as was ever to be found in wandering about these streets ere -I fell in with you and Oliver. I pray you, therefore, assist me to -reach London if it be in your power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How much will it cost to defray the expense?" Mr. Kinchella asked of -Quin, "by one of these boats? I fear me I have not the wherewithal to -enable him to voyage by the packet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He can go for nothing, I think," replied the other, "if so be that I -speak with one of the drovers who pass over frequently; or at most for -a few shillings. He could go under the guise of that drover's boy, or -help, and at least he would be safe from danger in that condition. The -expense will be from Chester to London, if that is the route -observed."</p> - -<p class="normal">So we discussed matters until it was time for us to quit the college -for the night, but, ere the time came for me to journey to England, -there occurred so many other things of stirring import that here I -must pause to narrate them in their due order, so that the narrative -which I have to tell shall be clear and understandable.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<h5>INTO THE LAND OF BONDAGE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Quin had made shift to lodge me in his poor room for the last day or -so and, so great and kind was his heart, that he had now announced -that, henceforth, until I was fairly on my way to London, he would not -let me be without the shelter of his roof again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he said to me that night as we walked back to his abode, "be -sure that the chase will be hot after you directly your uncle arrives -in the packet. You are known to be once more at large and, -consequently, dangerous to his claims, therefore he must put you out -of his way somehow ere you can be seen by those who will swear to you -as being the rightful Lord St. Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," I asked him, for my mind had been forced of late to devise so -many shifts that I had become, perhaps, sharper and more acute than -other lads of my age. "But what if I were to appear at the Courts, or -at the Office of the King-at-Arms, and, boldly stating who and what I -am, with witnesses for testimony thereto, claim protection. Would it -not be granted me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," replied Quin, thoughtfully. "I doubt not it would be granted -thee, and thy uncle would be restrained for a time at least from -falsely assuming that which is not his. But such a state of things -would not last long. Before many weeks had elapsed you would again be -missing, or perhaps not missing but, rather, found. Though I misdoubt -me but what, when found, you would not be alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">I shuddered at this terrifying prospect as he spoke, though too well I -knew that what he said might very easily come to pass. O'Rourke had -attempted to kill me once before and would do so again if he were paid -for it; doubtless Considine would also take my life if he had but the -slightest opportunity offered him, and there would be many more who, -in such a city as Dublin, could be hired to assassinate me. For, poor -and wretched as I was, and roaming about the streets as I did, how -easily might I not fall a prey to my uncle's designs! On the other -hand, if I could but reach England I must surely be in far greater -safety. For though my mother was, as she wrote, in ill health, it was -not possible to believe that the Marquis would not extend me his -protection as his rightful heir against so wicked a wretch and knave -as my uncle, nor that the law would not exert itself more strongly -there on my behalf than here, where it was to almost every one's -advantage to have me dead. It was the lawyers who had bought up our -estates, <i>my estates</i>, from my father and uncle at so meagre a price, -believing, or pretending to believe, that I was in truth dead; it was -not therefore to their interests to have me alive, and to be forced to -disgorge those estates. Thus I should get no help from them. Again, -O'Rourke would, if he could be found, surely swear that the real Lord -St. Amande was dead--since to obtain his reward and also to enable my -father and uncle to get the money they wanted, he had in some way -obtained a certificate of my death (I learned afterwards that he had -palmed off the dead body of a boy resembling me, which had been found -in the Liffey, as mine).</p> - -<p class="normal">I agreed with Oliver, therefore, and also with Mr. Kinchella, whose -counsel marched with that of my honest protector, that, at present, -Dublin was no place for me and that I must make for London to be safe. -Meanwhile I lay close in Quin's room until he should have found a -cattle-boat that was passing over to Chester, by which route it was -decided I should go, it being more expeditious and exposing me less to -the disagreeables of the sea. This was arrived at by my two friends -out of the goodness of their hearts, but, could they have foreseen -what storms and tempests were yet to be my portion both by sea and -land, I doubt if they would have thought it much worth their trouble -to secure me from a few hours more or less of discomfort on this -particular voyage.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, at present, there was no such boat going, the cattle being sent -over to Park Gate (where all freight for Chester was landed) only -about once every two weeks, and thus, as I say, I lay close in Quin's -room until such time as he should advise me to be ready for my -departure.</p> - -<p class="normal">During this time of idleness and waiting, there occurred, however, -many other things in connection with me, of which I heard from Oliver -whenever he came home at night. To wit, my uncle had arrived by the -packet and had at once proceeded to notify to the whole city, both by -his own and Considine's voice--whom he sent round to all the -coffee-houses and ordinaries, as well as to the wine clubs and -usquebaugh clubs--an errand I doubt not highly agreeable to that -creature!--as well as by advertisement in the new newsletter entitled -"Faulkner's Journal," which was just appearing, that my father had -died childless and that he had consequently assumed the rank and style -of Viscount St. Amande in the peerage of Ireland.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Oliver to me as I strolled by his side, for it was his -custom to take me out a-walking for my health's sake at night after he -returned home from his work; he holding me ever by the hand, while in -the other he carried a heavy Kerry blackthorn stick, and had a pair of -pistols in his pocket, "yet he succeeded not altogether to his -satisfaction, nor will he succeed as well as he hopes. The people hiss -and hoot at him and insult him as he passes by--Mike Finnigan flung a -dead dog, which he had dragged out of the gutter, into his coach but -yesterday--and they yell and howl at him to know where the real -lord--that's you--is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again, on another day, he told me that Mr. Kinchella had come to -his stall to tell him a brave piece of news, it being indeed no less -than the fact that the King-at-Arms had refused to enrol the -certificate of his brother having died without issue, while saying -also that, from what he gathered, he was by no means sure that such -was the case. This, Oliver said Mr. Kinchella told him, had led to a -great scene, in which my uncle had insulted the King-at-Arms, who had -had him removed from his presence in consequence, while he said even -more strongly than before that, from what was told him, he did firmly -believe that Mr. Robert St. Amande was endeavouring to bring about a -great fraud and to attempt a villainous usurpation of another's rights -to which he, at least, would be no party. Now, therefore, was my time, -we all agreed, for me to present myself and to claim my rights, and -Quin and Mr. Kinchella had even gone so far as to furbish me up in -some fitting apparel wherewith to make a more respectable appearance -in public, when everything was again thrown into disorder and my hopes -blighted by the arrival in Dublin of the new Lord Lieutenant and of -the Lord Chancellor Wyndham, than whom no one could have been worse -for my cause. He was then an utter stranger to Ireland (though -afterwards created Baron Wyndham of Finglass) in spite of having been -sent from England to be, at first, the Chief Justice of the Common -Pleas; he knew nothing of the descents of our ancient Irish families, -nor, indeed, the names of many of them, and what was worse than all, -he had known my uncle in England and was his friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, poor lad," said Oliver to me a few days later, "thy uncle has now -the first trick o' the game. The Lord Chancellor has taken counsel at -Mr. St. Amande's suggestion with several of the nobility of Wexford, -who have told him they never heard of thy father having had a son, as -well they may not, seeing he would associate with none of them but -only with the poorer sort. He has also questioned many of the -attorneys of this city, who find it to their interest, since they have -bought thy estates, to say that either you never lived or are dead -now, or else that you were born out of wedlock. And thus----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And thus?" I repeated, looking up wistfully at his kindly face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And thus--and thus--poor child! thy uncle is now enrolled as the -Viscount St. Amande. But courage, courage, my dear, thou shalt yet -succeed and prosper. Thy mother's family will surely see to thy -rights, and, if not, then will not the Lord raise up a champion for -thee?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Long afterwards I remembered this pious aspiration of dear Oliver, who -was himself a most sincere Protestant, and when that champion had -appeared, though in how different a guise from what I should have ever -dreamed, I came to think that, for the time at least, my good, simple -friend had been granted the gift of prophecy.</p> - -<p class="normal">So the days went on until at last the time drew near for the next -cattle-boat to pass over to Chester, and Quin was busily engaged in -making arrangements for me to go in it when there befel so strange a -thing that I must write it down in full.</p> - -<p class="normal">Quin came home one night--and, ah! what a bitter December night it -was! I remember it now many, many years afterwards, and how the frost -stood upon the window panes of the garret and the cold air stole in -through those panes so that I was forced to throw on all the fuel he -could afford to keep myself from freezing. Well, I say, Quin came home -on this night in a different humour from any I had ever seen him in -before, laughing, chattering to himself, chuckling as he removed the -heavy frieze surtout he wore, and even snapping his fingers as again -and again he would burst out into his laughs. And he produced from -that surtout a bottle of nantz but three parts full, and, seizing the -kettle, filled it with water and placed it on the fire, saying that -ere we went to bed we would drink confusion to all the rascals -harbouring in Dublin that night. After which he again laughed and -grimaced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What ails thee, Oliver?" I asked, "or rather, what has given thee -such satisfaction to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He went on laughing for some time longer until I thought that I was to -be debarred from hearing what it was that amused him so much, but at -last he said: "I am rejoicing at the chance that has arisen of playing -a knave, or rather two knaves, ay, or even three, a trick. And such a -grand trick, too; a trick that shall make thy uncle curse the day he -ever heard the name of Oliver Quin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My uncle!" I exclaimed. "My uncle! Why, what have he and you to do -together, Oliver?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen," he said, and by this time the kettle was boiling and he was -making the hypsy, "listen. I have seen O'Rourke to-night and--and I -have promised, for the sum of one hundred guineas, to deliver thee -into his hands for transportation to the colonies, to Virginia. To -Virginia, my lad, thou art bound, so that thou shalt plague thy uncle -no more. To Virginia. Ha, ha, ha!" and he burst into so loud a laugh -that the rafters of the garret shook with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">To be sure I understood that Oliver was but joking me--if I had not -known his honest nature, his equally honest laugh would have told me -so--yet I wondered what this strange discourse should mean! He had, I -think, been drinking ere he entered, though not more than enough to -excite him and make him merry, but still it was evident to see that, -over and above any potations he might have had, something had -happened. So I said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on, Oliver, and tell me about O'Rourke and the plantations, and -when I am to be sold into slavery."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I met O'Rourke this evening," he said, "as I happened into a -hipping-hawd<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> on my way home. There the villain was, seated on a -cask and dressed as fine as fivepence. On his pate was a great ramilie -wig, so please you! clapped a-top of it, and with an evil cock to one -side of it, a gold laced hat. He wore a red plush coat--though I doubt -me if the fashioner ever made it for him! with, underneath, a blue -satin waistcoat embroidered; he had a solitaire stuck into his shirt, -gold garters to the knees of his breeches, and, in fine, looked for -all the world as if he had come into a fortune and had been spending -part of it in buying the cast-off wardrobe of a nobleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the Virginia plantations, Oliver!" I said; "the plantations!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am coming to them--or, at least, thou art going to them! But first -let me tell thee of thy old friend and janitor, O'Rourke. When I -entered he was bawling for some sherris, but, on seeing me, he turned -away from his boon companions and exclaimed, 'What, my jolly butcher, -what my cock o' the walk, oh, oh! What, my gay protector of injured -youth and my palmer-off of boys for noble lords! How stands it with -thee? Art cold?--'tis a cold night--tho' thou wilt be in a colder -place if my Lord St. Amande catches holt on thee. But 'tis cold, I -say; you must drink, my noble slaughterer. What will you? A thimbleful -of sherris, maybe, or a glass of Rosa Solis? Here, Madge,' to the -waitress, 'give the gentleman to drink,' and he lugged out of his -pocket a great silk purse full of golden guineas and clinked it before -us.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'You seem rich and merry, Mr. O'Rourke,' I said. 'Plenty of money -now, and brave apparel. Whence comes it all? Hast thou been smuggling -off more boys or dragging out some more dead bodies from the river? It -seems a thriving trade, at least!' This upset him, Gerald, so he said, -'Hark ye, Mr. Quin, this is no joking matter. When it comes to -smuggling boys, it seems to me you are the smuggler more than I. Yet,' -he went on, 'let me have a word with thee,' whereon he got off his -cask and came over to me. But as he did so he paused and turned round -on the men drinking with him, and said, 'Will you stay drinking all -night, you dogs? Get home, get home, I say. I will pay for no more -liquor to-night; be off, I say. Finish your drink and go,' which the -men did as obediently as though they were really dogs, touching their -caps and wishing the ruffian and myself and Madge--who was half asleep -beside her bottles--good-night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Now, Quin,' said O'Rourke, drawing a chair up to where I was -sitting, and resting his hands on the handle of his sword, which he -stuck between his legs, 'listen to me, for I have matter of importance -to say to thee, which thy opportune appearance has put into my head!'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'If 'tis any villainy,' I said, 'which, coming from you, is like -enough----'</p> - -<p class="normal">"But he interrupted me with, 'Tush, tush! What you call villainy we -gentlemen call business. But interrupt no more; listen. Quin, you know -well enough that the lad you harbour is no more the Lord St. Amande -than I am. I say you know it,' and here he winked at me a devilish -wink, and put out his finger and touched me on the chest, while I, -waiting to see what was coming, nodded gravely. 'The young lord, I -tell you, is dead, drowned in the Liffey--have I not the certificate? -Therefore, Quin--drink, man, drink and warm thyself--his uncle is now -most undoubtedly, both by inheritance and the Lord Chancellor's -enrolment, the rightful lord. But,' and here he paused and looked at -me and, when he thought I was not observing, filled my glass again, -'his lordship wishes for peaceable possession of his rights and to -harm none, not even thee who hast so grievously slandered him and his. -Therefore, if you will do that which is right there is money for you, -Quin; money enough to set you up as a flesher on your own account, and -a trader in beasts; and, for the evil you have done, there shall be no -more thought of it.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'And what is it I am wanted to do?' I asked, while I made a pretence -of faltering, and said, 'If I were sure that the lad I have in keeping -were not truthfully the young lord----'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'The young lord is dead, I tell thee--take some more drink, 'tis -parlous cold--the young lord is dead. I know it.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"' And therefore you want me to----?'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Do this. My lord, by whom I mean his uncle, can now, by warrant of -the Lord Chancellor, assume his proper station, and hath done so. -Only, since he is a man of peace, he wisheth not to fall foul of the -young impostor, and would-be usurper, <i>as you know he is</i>, Quin,' and -again his evil eye drooped at me, 'nor to proceed either to punish him -for his cheat nor to have to defend himself from any attempts your lad -might make against him in the manner of impugning his title. And, -therefore--to use thy thoughts--what would be best is that he should -be got out of the way.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'By murder?' I asked him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Nay, nay, never! The Lord forfend. We are gentlemen, not assassins, -and so that all should be done peaceably and quietly it would be best -to proceed as follows.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here I again interrupted him, Gerald, by saying, 'If I were only -sure, if I could be but sure----'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Sure!' he exclaimed, rapping the table so loudly that the maid -started from her nodding to stare at us. 'Sure! Sure! Man, I tell -you the boy is dead.' Then, glancing suspiciously at the girl and -lowering his voice, he went on again, 'We will proceed as follows. -There is a friend of mine who maketh it his business to consign the -ne'er-do-wells and prison scourings of this city to Virginia, where he -sells them to the tobacco planters for what they will fetch over and -above what he has given for them. Now for a boy such as young -Gerald--pish! I mean him whom you <i>call</i> young Gerald--he would give -as much as twenty guineas, especially on my description of him. But,' -he said, again touching me with his finger on the breast so that I -felt disposed to fell him to the floor, 'but that is not all. For so -that his lordship, who is a noble-minded gentleman if ever there was -one, may peaceably enter upon and enjoy his own, subject to no -disturbance nor thwarting, he will give two hundred guineas to me for -having him safely put aboard my friend's brig, the <i>Dove</i>, and shipped -to Newcastle, on the Delaware, where he trades.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Two hundred guineas,' I said, appearing to dwell upon it; ''tis a -goodly sum, and the boy might do well in Virginia. He is a lad of -parts.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Ay,' he replied, forgetting himself and that he pretended not to -know you, 'he is. Smart and brisk, and looking a good two years older -than his age. But of the two hundred guineas, all is not for you. I -must have my share.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'That being?' I asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'One half,' he replied. 'And think on it, Quin. One hundred golden -guineas for thee and more, much more than that; for if you do this -service for my lord he will absolve thee from thy contumacy and thine -insults, both to his name and to the face of his wife--for his wife -she is--and also to Mr. Considine, who is a gay and lightsome blade as -ever strutted.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'That is something,' I said, giving now what appeared my adhesion to -his scheme. 'Perhaps I spoke too roughly to them, and I would not lie -in the clink for it. Yet to kidnap a boy--for such 'twill be at best, -and he, too, sheltering with me and trusting me--is a grave and -serious thing, which, if discovered, might send me to the plantations -also, if not the gibbet.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Have no fear,' he said; 'my lord shall give you a quittance to hold -you harmless.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'He must,' I made answer, 'and more; I must have an earnest of my -payment. I will attempt nothing until I receive an earnest.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"He looked round at the sleeping serving-maid as I spoke, and then he -drew forth his silk purse again and shook some guineas out into the -palm of his hand, and whispered to me, 'How much will serve, Quin? Eh? -Five guineas. Eh? What! More!'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Ay, more!' I said. 'Many more. That purse contains forty pieces if -one. Give me twenty-five as an earnest and twenty-five to-morrow when -we meet again and then, provided that I have the remainder an hour -before your friend's brig sails, the boy shall be hoisted on board -insensible, and the <i>Dove</i> may take him to Virginia or the devil -either for aught I care.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so," Oliver concluded, "he did it. He paid the guineas -down--there they are; look at them, lad! And thou art, therefore, -bound for Virginia, there to spend thy life, or at least a portion of -it, in slavery on the plantations. Ho, ho, ho!" and again he laughed -until the rafters rung once more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<h5>THE SPRINGE IS SET</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Thus Oliver concluded his narrative of his meeting with O'Rourke.</p> - -<p class="normal">What came of that meeting you are now to see.</p> - -<p class="normal">But first I must tell you what his own scheme was, and how he intended -to work out upon the head of Robert St. Amande the result of his own -villainy. My uncle had been married in early life to a young lady of -good family and some means--upon which latter he had more or less -managed to exist for several years--belonging to the South of -Scotland. She had, however, died in giving birth to a son ere they had -been married a twelvemonth, and it was as guardian of this son and -custodian of his late wife's property, which that son was to inherit -when he attained his twenty-first year, that he had, as I say, -principally existed. At least he had done so until he devised the -scheme of assisting my father to ease himself of the family property, -when, naturally, he found more money coming his way than he had -heretofore done, and so, perhaps, ceased his inroads on what remained -of that which was due to my cousin on reaching his majority.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether, however, Roderick St. Amande--who was named after his -grandfather, known as Rich Roderick of Dumfries---would ever live to -come into his patrimony, or what remained of it, was a very much -questioned subject. For the youth, who was some two years older than -I, though not a wit bigger, if so big, had already taken to the most -dreadful courses and, young as he was, might sometimes be seen reeling -tipsy about the streets of Dublin (in which city his father thought -fit to generally keep him); sometimes squabbling and rioting with -the watch at nights, and sometimes leering over the blinds of the -coffee-houses and wine clubs at any comely girl who happened to be -passing up or down the streets. Moreover, I suppose, because since my -birth he had always regarded me as an interloper who had come in -between him and the future peerages of St. Amande and Amesbury, as, -had I never been born, he must have eventually succeeded to them, he -had always treated me with great cruelty so long as it was in his -power to do so. When I was little better than a baby and he an urchin -he saw fit to purloin or destroy the toys given me by my mother and my -reckless and unhappy father; because I loved a terrier which a tenant -had given me as a pup, that unfortunate creature was found drowned in -a pool shortly after Roderick had been seen in the neighbourhood, and -there were countless other ill treatments which he pleased to practise -towards me. And at the time when I was consigned to O'Rourke by my -father, who, in his then bemused state, probably did think that he was -only secreting me for a while without dreaming of the harm to be -attempted on me, this young villain, as I afterwards knew, was one of -the prime instigators of that ruffian to make away with me. And, to -conclude, when it was known that I had escaped from O'Rourke's hands -he it was who, either on his own behalf or on that of his father, -raised the hue and cry upon me until, when my own father lay a-dying -in his garret, they saw fit to shift their tactics and give out that I -was dead, which both father and son would have been consumedly -rejoiced to have me.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, Oliver Quin knew all this and accordingly hated him as much as he -loved me, and he knew also of the young man's habits, of his love for -the bottle and for bottle-songs, of his revellings and reelings in the -streets by nights and in the early mornings, sometimes in the company -of Considine and sometimes in that of worse almost than he; and he -formed his plans accordingly when approached by O'Rourke. Those plans -were no less, as doubtless you have ere now perceived or guessed, than -to take a great revenge on this youth for all his and his father's -transgressions towards me, and, in fact, to ship him off to Virginia -in the Dove instead of me and in my place.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such a scheme was easier to be accomplished than might at first be -supposed, for more reasons than one. To begin with, when O'Rourke met -Oliver on the second night to unfold his plans and concert measures -with him, one of the first things the vagabond told my friend was that -he must by no means appear to be concerned in my sending away. "It -will not do for me to be seen in the matter, Quin," he said on -that occasion, on which, because of its importance, they were now -closeted in a private room of the house where they had encountered -each other overnight; "it will not do. Fortune has caused me to be -mixed up before in one or two unpleasant jobs with the Lord Mayor's -myrmidons--the devil shoot them!--and I must keep quiet awhile. But -that matters not, if you are to be trusted. For see, now, see! The -<i>Dove</i> saileth the instant the wind shifts into the east, which it -seems like enough to do at any moment. Therefore must you be ready -with the freight which we would have. The captain, a right honest man, -will send you word overnight at change of wind that he will up-anchor -at dawn, and that, as dawn breaks, you must be alongside of him. He -will see that the boy answers to my description--though I have said he -is a year or so older than he actually is, so as to make him appear -more worth the money--and, when he is aboard, you will receive the -payment. Thus, Quin, you will have pouched one hundred and twenty -guineas, and my lord will stand thy friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Since the wind shifts, or seems like to shift ere long," Oliver -replied, fooling him to the end, "let us conclude. Pay me the -remaining seventy five pieces and I will have him ready at any -moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, softly," the other answered. "Thou wouldst not trust me too -far, I guess, therefore neither must I be too confident. Yet listen! I -shall not be on the quay when you put off to the <i>Dove</i>, but one who -has served me before will be. An honest gentleman he is, too, just -back from England where he hath been employed nosing out a Jacobite -plot in the north, and to him you will show the lad, whereon he will -pay you the guerdon and give you also a letter from my lord which will -hold you harmless."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is he known to any of us, or to--to, well! to the law and its -officers?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To none. He hath but just arrived and knows not a soul in Dublin -except me and one or two of my friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," said Oliver, well enough pleased to think that this -"honest gentleman" would not know the difference between me and my -cousin. "So be it. Now, it will be best that the boy should be drugged -ere I set out with him--is it not so?--and wrapped in some long cloak -so that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," replied the ruffian, "you are brisk. It shall be so. Get a -long frieze cloak such as that you wear--the guineas will indemnify -you for its cost and buy many another--and for the stupefying him, -why, either a dram well seasoned or a crack on the mazard will do his -business for him. Only, be sure not to kill him outright. For if you -do, you will be twenty guineas short of your count, since he will be -no use to the captain then, and you will be forced to fling him into -the Liffey for the prawns to make a meal of."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus the wretch, who had no more compunction for my life than that it -would be twenty guineas lost to him whom he now considered his -accomplice, arranged everything, and after a few more instructions to -Oliver as well as a further payment of twenty-five guineas as Oliver -insisted (two of which afterwards turned out to be Jacks, or bad ones) -they parted--the thing being, as O'Rourke remarked gleefully, now well -arranged and in train.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," he said for his last word, "keep thy eye on the weathercock and -be ready for the captain's hint, which he will send to this house. Let -not the <i>Dove</i> sail without her best passenger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She shall not," answered Oliver. "Be sure of that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, Gerald, for so I shall call thee, lord though thou art," -Oliver said to me that night, "we must think for the means for seizing -on thy cousin. I know enough of the weather and the many signs it -gives to feel sure that it is changing. It gets colder, which presages -a north easterly wind, and this will carry the <i>Dove</i> out of the river -and to sea. Therefore, it behoves us to be busy. To-night is Monday, -by Wednesday at daybreak, if I mistake not, the brig will be away. -Therefore, to-morrow night we must have the young princock in our -hands. Now, how shall we proceed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is almost nightly at Macarthy's tavern--I have seen him in -passing, when I was hiding with the beggars. Yet," I said, breaking -off, "oh, think, Oliver, of what you are about! If you are made -accountable for this, you may be sent to prison or worse even."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush, tush! lad!" he answered. "Have no fear for me. Yet it is kind -of thee to think of it. Still, there is nought to fear. He goes not on -board until I have thy uncle's quittance, though he may say little -enough, fearing to commit himself overmuch; and for the rest, when he -is gone, why we go, too--only another gait."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We, too! Why, where shall we go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where? Why, to England, lad. To London. To thy mother. Shall we not -have the wherewithal? We have fifty guineas already; we shall have -more than double by Wednesday morning; and then away for Holyhead or -Liverpool by the first packet that sails, and so to London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, Oliver, what will you do to live? The guineas will not last for -ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, that is true; but they will go far, and with them I can traffic -as a master and not a man. Or I can hoard them for thy use" (how -unselfish he was, I thought!) "and go back to work as a journeyman--they -say none need want for work in London--and so be ever near to watch and -ward over thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oliver," I exclaimed, "I think that even now the Lord has raised up -that champion for me of whom you spoke. It seems that you are mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, there will arise a better for thee than I can ever be; but until -he comes I must, perforce, do my best. Now let us make our plans."</p> - -<p class="normal">And these are the plans we arranged. Knowing that there was no longer -any search likely to be made for me--since 'twas certain that those -who sought my ruin thought it was as good as accomplished--I was to -sally forth next night disguised, and was to prowl about Macarthy's -tavern and other haunts of my abandoned cousin until I had safely run -him to earth. After this Quin was to be summoned by me from the -hipping-hawd where he would be, and, presuming that the captain of the -<i>Dove</i> had sent the expected word, he was then to keep Mr. Roderick -St. Amande in sight until we could secure him.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was nought else to arrange, for if these plans but fell out as -we hoped all must go well; nothing could upset them.</p> - -<p class="normal">And the next day, when it came, seemed to give promise of one thing at -least happening as we desired, the wind was blowing strong from the -N.N.E., a wind that would carry the <i>Dove</i> well beyond Bray Head, did -it but hold for thirty-six hours.</p> - -<p class="normal">At six o'clock that night, therefore, I, having made a slight meal of -some food Oliver had let in the garret for me, banked up the fire, put -out the light, and sallied forth to follow the instructions he had -given me to find our quarry. Of compunctions as to what I was about to -do I had none, as, perhaps, it was not to be expected I should have. -For, consider. That which was to happen to this cousin of mine was but -the portion which his father had endeavoured to deal out to me, and, -as I learnt an hour or so later, was a portion which Roderick knew was -intended for me and over which he gloated in his cups. Therefore, I -say, I felt no pity for him, and I set about to perform my part of the -task with determination to go through with it to the best of my power. -My rags were now discarded, and the clothes which I wore, and which -Oliver had purchased for me with some of O'Rourke's guineas, were in -themselves a disguise. To wit, I wore a fine silk drugget suit lined -with silk shagreen, for which he had given six of the pieces; my -muslin ruffles were of the best, a pair of long riding-boots covered -my stockings to the knees, and a handsome roquelaure enveloped me and -kept the cold out. To add to my disguise as well as my appearance, I -wore a bag wig, and at my side--Oliver said I might find some use for -it ere long--a good sound rapier. Who could have guessed that in the -youth thus handsomely apparelled, and looking any age near twenty-two -or three--the wig and boots giving me an appearance much above my -actual years--they saw the beggar who, a fortnight before, slunk about -the streets of Dublin dressed as a scarecrow!</p> - -<p class="normal">The wind still blew from the same quarter as I passed down the street -in which Quin dwelt, while one or two passers-by turned to look at the -unaccustomed sight of a well-dressed young man in such a -neighbourhood, and as I went along I meditated on all that was before -me. Moreover, I could not but muse on how strange it was that such a -worldly-wise villain as O'Rourke, to say nothing of those others, my -uncle and Considine, could have fallen so easily into the trap of -Oliver and have been willing to believe in his turning against me thus -treacherously. Yet, I told myself, 'twas not so very strange after -all. They could never have dreamt, no mortal man could possibly have -dreamt, that he should have conceived so audacious and bold a scheme -of turning the tables on them so completely as to dare to kidnap his -very employer's own child in place of the one he wanted to have -transported to the colonies. And, when they trusted him, if they did -in very truth trust him, they only did so to a small extent, since, if -he failed to produce me and to yield me over to the tender clutches of -the captain of the <i>Dove</i>, they had but lost a handful of guineas and -could make a cast for me again. Lastly, as I learned more surely when -I grew older, when men are such uncommon rogues as these three were, -they are often bound, whether they will or no, to hope that others -with whom they have dealings are as great rogues as they themselves, -and to make their plans and rely upon that hope accordingly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus meditating and resolving on what I had to do, I drew near to -Macarthy's tavern--then one of the most fashionable in the city--and, -raising myself on tiptoes, I peeped over the blind and saw my -gentleman within regaling himself on a fine turbot, with, to keep him -company, another youth and two young women, much bedizened and -bedeckt. These I knew, having seen them before, to belong to the -company of actors who had been engaged to play at the new theatre in -Aungier Street.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<h5>THE BIRD DRAW'S NEAR</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And now it behoved me to pause and consider as to what course it would -be best for me to follow. It was as yet but seven of the clock, and -Quin quitted not his stall until eight, so that it would be -impossible, or rather useless, to apprise him of my cousin's -whereabouts. Moreover, nothing could be done at this early hour of the -evening, while, on the other hand, when night came on and it grew late -it was almost a certainty that Roderick would be in his cups. Yet it -would not do to lose sight of him, for should he wander forth from -Macarthy's, as was like enough seeing the company he was in, we might -not find him again that night, in which case the <i>Dove</i>, if she sailed -at dawn, would have to go without my gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">So I determined to enter the tavern. Of recognition from Roderick -there was but little likelihood--nay, there was none at all. It was -six years since he had seen me (though scarcely many more days since I -had seen him without his knowing it); six years since he had drowned -my pup, there recollection of which made my hatred of him now stir -afresh in me; years during which I had been at school in two or three -different towns in the country, and also had been in England; and -these years had made much difference between the child of ten and the -youth of sixteen. And, as I have written, what with my height, which -was considerable, and my dress, which was more suited to a young man -of twenty than to me, there was no possibility of Roderick knowing me. -So I determined to enter the tavern, I say, and to ensconce myself in -a box near where my cousin and the actresses sat, and which from the -window I could perceive was vacant, and thus glean what news I might -of his intended action that night. My entrance caused some little -attention, the room not being well filled as yet, and "What a pretty -fellow!" said one of the girls to the other in a very audible voice as -I took my seat in the place I had selected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I' faith!" replied the second, a painted minx, like her friend, with -half a score of patches on her face--"pretty enough, but too much like -a girl. For my part, I prefer to look upon a man. Now, Roddy, here, -hath none too much beauty yet enough, or will have when he is a man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When he is a man!" my cousin said, "when he is a man, indeed! Man -enough any way to find the wherewithal for giving you a good supper, -Mistress Doll, which it strikes me you would not get from your wages -nor from any of your 'manly' actors who strut about the booths with -you, nor from the half-starved looking playwrights I have seen lurking -about the theatre doors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There! there! Roddy!" said the one who had spoken last, swallowing -his abuse as best she might, "there, there! Take no offence where none -is meant, and, for the supper, 'tis most excellent. Yet the claret -runs low, my lad, and I am thirsty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thirsty!" the gracious Roderick replied; "that you are always, Doll, -like all your crew. But claret is useless to such as thee! Here, -drawer, waiter, come here. Bring us some of the brandy punch that -Macarthy knows so well how to brew, and quick--dost hear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The score, sir," I heard the man whisper, "is large already. And I -have to account to the master----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The devil take you, and the score, and your master, too! Is not my -father the Honourable Viscount St. Amande, thou rogue, and can he not -pay for all the liquor I drink as well as what my friends consume? Go, -fetch it, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile I sat in my box sipping a small measure of claret--which -stuff I wondered some could be found to approve so much of--and -regarding sideways the others. The punch being brought, my cousin, -with a lordly air, bade the other young man ladle it out, telling him -coarsely to keep the glasses of the girls well filled, since they were -capable of drinking the Liffey dry if 'twere full of liquor; and the -women, taking no notice of these remarks, to which and similar ones -they were probably well used, fell to discussing some play in which -they were shortly to appear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lines are fair enough," said the elder of the two, whom Roderick -had fallen foul of, to the other; "yet there are too many of them, and -the action halts. Moreover, as for plot--why, there's none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the failing of our modern playwrights," said her companion, -"that there never seems to be any, so that the audiences soon weary of -us. Yet, if at Lincoln's Inn or Drury Lane they would try more for the -plot, I feel sure that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Plot!" here, however, interrupted my well beloved cousin, who was by -this time approaching intoxication, and adding noise to his other -modes of entertaining his guests, "who's talking about plots? Plots, -forsooth!" And now he smiled feebly, and then hiccoughed, "Plots, eh? -I know a plot, and a good one, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With submission, sir," said Doll, looking angrily at him--for she had -evidently not forgiven his remarks--"we were talking about the -difficulty that 'half-starved looking playwrights' found in imagining -new plots for the playhouses and our crew, the actors. It follows, -therefore, that even though the noble Mr. Roderick St. Amande should -know a good plot, as he says, it could avail us nothing. He surely -could not sink his nobility so low as to communicate such a thing to -the poor mummers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha!" answered Roderick, "but couldn't he, though. I' faith, I'll -tell you a good plot--take some more drink, I say!--and when next some -snivel-nosed dramatist wants a--a--what d'ye call it, a--plot, tell -him this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are all attention, sir. This is indeed an honour. We have of late -had more than one noble lord as patron and poetaster--it seems we have -another in store. Nell," to her companion, "listen carefully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doll, thou art a fool and a vixen too, especially when thou hast -supped, as the black fellow calls it, not wisely but too well. Yet, -listen. Thou hast heard of my uncle's death----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Verily we have," interrupted Doll again. "All Dublin has. A noble -lord buried by charity, and that not the charity of his relatives; a -doubtful succession, an impugned title--ha! ha!--who has not heard of -that! Yet, if this is the plot, 'tis useless for us. It may do in -absolute real life, but not upon our boards. 'Twould be thought so -unnatural and inhuman that, if we endeavoured to represent the thing, -we should be hissed or worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, I have a mind to beat you," the now drunken youth roared -out, "yet I will not. Gim'-me some drink. A plot, I said. Well, now, -hear. There is a beggar's brat whom others are endeavouring to foist -on us as my uncle's child--thus commenceth the plot--but they will not -succeed. Not succeed? you ask. I will tell you. And there's the -continuation of the plot. No, they will not succeed. To-morrow, early, -that beggar's brat pays the penalty of his attempted cheat--he passes -away, disappears for ever. Where to? No, not to the grave, though I -trust he may find it ere long, but to the plantations. What! the bowl -is empty? Thy throat's a lime-kiln, Doll. To the plantations, I say, -to the plantations. That should kill the dog, if aught will. If the -work and the fever and the beatings, to say nothing of the bad food, -will not do it, why, perhaps the Indians will, and so we shall have no -more disputed successions nor impugned titles. Now, say, is it not a -good plot? Let's have more drink!" And he sank back into his chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman Doll regarded him for a moment with her steely blue eyes, -what time he shut his own and seemed about to slumber--the other youth -had long since gone off into a drowsy and, I suppose, tipsy nap. And -then she whispered to her companion, "I wish I did but know where that -beggar's brat he speaks of were to be found. I would mar his plot for -him." And the companion nodded and said she too wished they had never -consented to come with him to supper.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile, I, who had also feigned sleep so that, if they should look -at me, they would not think I had overheard them--though in truth I -think they had forgotten my presence, since I was shielded from their -sight by the box sides--called for my reckoning, and, paying it, rose -to depart. For it was time now that I should go and seek Oliver. As I -passed down the room the girls looked at me and then at each other, -but said nothing; and so I went swiftly out and to the place appointed -to meet Quin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come quickly," I said to Oliver, who was on the watch for me and came -out directly I put my head in the door, "come quickly. He is drunk now -in the company of another youth who is as bad or worse than he, and of -two actresses, neither of whom would, I believe, raise a finger to -help him even though we slew him. He has insulted them and they will -do nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore we hurried along, but as we went Quin told me we must be -careful. First, the streets were full of people as yet, so that, if we -endeavoured to carry him off, we should of a certainty arouse -attention; and, next, the people at Macarthy's would be sure to keep -an eye to him, more especially as he owed them a reckoning. And he -told me that the captain of the <i>Dove</i> had sent to say he sailed at -daybreak; "so that," he said, "if nought mars our scheme--which heaven -forfend may not happen--we have the bird in the springe, and then for -London to your lady mother by the packet boat which sails, I hear, -to-morrow, at noon. And, Gerald, thou look'st every inch a young lord -in thy brave apparel--she will scarce believe you have been hiding -amongst the beggars of Dublin."</p> - -<p class="normal">By now we had returned to the outside of Macarthy's and, again peering -over the blind of the bow-window, we saw that Roderick and his boon -companions were still there. He and the young man with him were, -however, by now fast asleep, and the two girls were talking together -we could see; while, from the far end of the room, the waiter who had -served me and them was seated on a chair yawning lustily, and every -now and then regarding the party with his half open eye. Of others -present there were none, perhaps because it was a cold, inclement -night, though one or two of the boxes seemed to have been recently -occupied, as did some of the tables in the middle of the room--near -one of which our party sat judging by the disarranged napery and empty -dishes left upon them.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, as we gazed, we observed that the actresses appeared to have -grown tired of the company they were in, and, softly rising, they went -over to the hangers and took down their camlet cloaks and hoods and -prepared to depart. The one called Doll took from her purse a piece of -silver which she flung to the waiter, and said some words to him -accompanied by a gesture towards my cousin and the other youth and -also by a laugh--perhaps she said that 'twas all the vail he would get -that night!--and then without more ado she passed with her friend out -into the street. But they came forth so swiftly that Oliver and I had -no time to do more than withdraw our eyes from the window and appear -to be talking, as though we were acquaintances met in the street, -before they were both upon us, and, fixing her eye upon me, Doll -recognised me again in a moment. "Why," she said to her friend, with -her saucy laugh, "'tis the pretty youth who was in the tavern but an -hour ago." And then, turning to me, she went on, "Young sir, you -should be a-bed by now. The night air is bad for--for young gentlemen. -Yet, perhaps, you have a tryst here with some maid, or"--but now she -halted in her speech and, bending her brows upon me, said--"or, no, it -cannot be that you are concerned in the foul plot Mr. St. Amande spoke -of within. No, no! That cannot be. You did not appear to know him, nor -he you. Yet, again, that might be part of the plot, too." And once -more she looked steadfastly at me.</p> - -<p class="normal">I would have answered her but Oliver took the word now, and speaking -up boldly to her, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam, if my young master be concerned at all in the plot of which -you speak it is to thwart it, as, by good chance, he most assuredly -will do. Therefore, since you say it is 'foul,' by which I gather that -you do not approve of it, I pray you pass on and leave us to do our -best."</p> - -<p class="normal">She looked at his great form and at me, her friend standing always -close by her side, and then she said to me:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you? No friend of his, assuredly. And if such be the case, as -it seems, then I heartily wish that your attempts to thwart his villainy -may be successful. Oh! 'tis a shame--a shame."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I guessed you thought as much," I answered in reply to her, "from -what I overheard you say within. Therefore, I make bold to tell you -that he will doubtless be so thwarted. And, if you would hear the -ending of the plot which he described to you to-night, and which I -assure you was incomplete, you will have to wait a little longer. -Then, if I have the honour to encounter you again, it shall be told. -Meanwhile, if you wish us well, I beg of you to leave us. He may come -out at any moment when your presence would interfere with our plans."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," she replied, "and so farewell, and fortune go with you. -And--stay--I should like to hear the ending of that gallant and -courteous young gentleman's plot; a line to Mistress Doll Morris at -the New Theatre in Aungier Street will reach me. Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, my pretty page," said the other saucily, and so they passed -down the street, I telling them as they went that, doubtless, they -would hear something ere long.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the evening was gone, the passers-by were getting fewer, the -shops were all shut; soon Macarthy's would shut too. The time for -action was at hand.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<h5>TRAPPED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And still the night drew on and we waited outside, sheltering -ourselves in the stoop of an empty house opposite Macarthy's, or -walking up and down the street to keep ourselves warm as well as not -to attract observation to our loitering. Yet, indeed, there was but -little fear that we should be observed, since there were but few -people in the streets. A coach or hackney carriage would now and again -rumble past; once the watch went by; two of his Majesty's sailors -passed down singing a jovial chaunt about the West Indies and the -girls and the drinking there--but that was all. The city was fast -going to bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Knowing that my hopeful cousin was intoxicated by now, we had somewhat -altered our plans, and we had determined that, directly we could seize -him, we would carry him down to the boat which we had ready for us at -Essex Stairs. Once there, we would await the arrival of O'Rourke's -"honest gentleman" with the remaining hundred guineas and my uncle's -acquittal, the form of which was already arranged; after which we -would pull off to the <i>Dove</i>, which lay below Dublin in mid stream, -and deposit our cargo with the captain, and take his guineas too. -Resistance from our prize we had no fear of. I could myself have -easily mastered him in the state he now was, while for any noise he -might make--why, a gag would stop that and would be perfectly -understood and approved of by the captain, should Roderick go aboard -thus muzzled. It would, doubtless, not be the first victim he had -shipped for Virginia in such a condition.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet there was no necessity for even this, as you shall now see, since -my cousin's own actions, and his love for the bottle, led him to fall -into our hands as easily as the leaf falls from the tree when autumn -winds are blowing.</p> - -<p class="normal">As we stood in the street waiting for him and his friend to come -forth--who we hoped would soon part from him and seek his own home--we -heard a hubbub and loud noises in Macarthy's, as well as -expostulations in the drawer's voice, and then, suddenly, the door was -flung open and out into the street there came, as though they had both -been thrust forth together by strong hands, my cousin and his guest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now what may this mean?" whispered Oliver, while, as he spoke, he -drew me further within the porch, or stoop, so that we were quite -invisible behind its thick pillars.</p> - -<p class="normal">It took not long to learn. My cousin was mightily flustered as 'twas -easy to see; his hat was awry as also was his steinkirk, his face was -flushed and he breathed forth most dreadful execrations against the -tavern first, and then his companion, who, perhaps because of his -longer sleep within, seemed more cool and calm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I tell thee 'tis a scurvy trick, Garrett," bawled Roderick, after he -had finished kicking at the tavern door, which was now fast closed, -while the lights within were extinguished; and after he had yelled -through the keyhole at them that "they should be indicted on the -morrow." "A scurvy trick, and worst of all from a guest as thou art. -But it shall not pass, and I will have satisfaction." And he began -tugging at the sword by his side, though he lurched a good deal as he -did so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. St. Amande," replied the other, "satisfaction you shall indeed -have, as I will for the blow you dealt me in there, which led to our -ignominious expulsion. And you may have it now, or in the park -to-morrow morning, or when and where you will. But, previously, let me -tell you, sir, that when you say that I am any party to the departure -of the young ladies, or that I know where they are, or am about to -rejoin them, you lie. Now, sir, shall we draw?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are they then? I did but doze, yet when I opened my eyes they -were gone," but he made no attempt further to unsheath his weapon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I have now told you twice, I know not. But I cannot stay parleying -here with you all night. A friend will wait upon you to-morrow. Frank -Garrett must wipe out that blow. I trust my friend's visit will be -agreeable. Sir, I wish you a good night," and he took off his richly -gold laced hat with great ceremony and, bowing solemnly, withdrew. My -cousin gazed with drunken gravity after him and hiccoughed more than -once, and muttered, "A nice ending truly to a supper party. The girls -gone, insulted by landlord and--and the reckoning to pay and fight -to-morrow--Garrett knows every passado to be learnt at the fence -school. I must see to it. And there is no more to drink." Here he -reeled over to the tavern again from the middle of the road, and, -beating on the door, called out to, them to come down and give him -another draught and he would forget their treatment of him while the -reckoning should be paid in the morning. But his noise produced no -other reply than the opening of a window upstairs, from which a man -thrust forth his head covered with a nightcap and bade him begone or -the watch should be summoned. While for the reckoning, the man said, -his honour might be sure that that would have to be paid since he knew -his honour's father well. After which the window was closed.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, when once more all was still, Oliver and I stepped forth, and -the former taking off his hat with great civility and bowing, said, -"Sir, we have been witnesses of how ill you have been treated, both by -your friend and the tavern-keeper. And 'tis a sin to thrust forth so -gallant a gentle man when he wishes another cup."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, plaguily," muttered Roderick.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore, young sir, if you require another draught I can show you -where it may be obtained."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you? Then you are a right good fellow, though who and what you -are I know not from Adam. Some city put, I suppose, who wishes to be -seen in company with a gentleman!"--'twas ever my cousin's habit to -make such amiable speeches as these, and thereby to encounter the ill -will of those whom he addressed. "But, however, I care not whom I am -seen in company with. I'll go along with you." Then, suddenly, his eye -lighted on me, whereon he exclaimed, "What, my gentleman! Why, 'twas -you who were in Macarthy's earlier in the evening. I suppose you left -ere I awoke from my doze. Are you, too, stranded for a draught and -obliged to be indebted to this good--humph!--person for procuring you -one?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even so," I answered, thinking it best to fall in with his -supposition, whereon Oliver said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come on then, young sirs, or all the taverns will be closed. Yet, -stay, will you have a sup ere we set forth. I have the wherewithal in -my pocket," and he thrust his hand in his coat and pulled out a great -flask he had provided to keep out the morning air from our lungs when -we should be on the river.</p> - -<p class="normal">"First come, first served," he said, winking at me, which action being -under an oil lamp I could well perceive, and he handed me the flask -which I put to my mouth and pretended to drink from, though not a drop -did I let pass my lips. "And you, sir," he went on, turning to my -cousin, "will you try a draught? 'Tis of the right kind--and--hush! a -word--the gauger has never taken duty on it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So much the better. Hand over," said Roderick, "the night air is raw. -Ah!" He placed the bottle to his lips as he uttered this grunt of -satisfaction and took a long deep draught, and then returned the flask -enviously to Oliver and bade him lead to the tavern he knew of, where -he promised he would treat us both to a bowl of punch ere the night -was done.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Oliver (as he told me afterwards) not thinking it advisable to be -seen in more public houses than necessary--considering the business we -were on--purposely led the way to one near the river of which he knew, -by as circuitous a route as possible, so that, ere we had gone half a -mile, Roderick called a halt for another refresher. All the way we had -come he had been maundering about the treatment he had received at the -tavern, about the desertion of him by the actresses, and about his -friend's treachery, mixed up with boastings of his father's standing, -his speech being very thick and his gait unsteady. So that the same -hope was in Oliver's mind as in mine, namely that another attack upon -the bottle might do his business for him. Yet, when he had taken it, -he was not quite finished--though nearly so, since he would once or -twice have fallen had we not held him up between us as we went -along,--and we were fain at last to suggest a third pull at the flask. -And shortly after he had taken that he could go no farther but, after -hiccoughing out some unintelligible words, sank helpless on the -stones.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Caught in their own toils!" exclaimed Oliver, as he bent over him, -"caught in their own toils! Gerald, already the spell begins to work -that shall undo your uncle. Yet, if this were not the son of a -villain, and a villain himself in the future if he be not one now, as -by his rejoicing over the plot in the tavern he seems to be, I would -never have taken part in such a snare as this. But," he continued, -"they would have sent you, poor lad, to where he is going, and he -would have gloated over it. Let us, therefore, harden our hearts and -continue what we have begun."</p> - -<p class="normal">He stooped over Roderick as he spoke and gazed at him as he lay there -insensible, and said, "We must remove from him his lace and ruffles; -they are too fine. His hat with its lacings is easily disposed of," -saying which he tossed it on a heap of refuse such as was then to be -found in every street in Dublin. "His clothes," he continued, "are, -however, none too sumptuous, and they are soiled with mud where he has -fallen. His sword he must not have however," with which words he -unloosed it as well as the sash and placed the former against a -doorway and the latter in his pocket. "Now," he said, "let us carry -him to the stairs," and he forthwith hoisted him on his back as easily -as he had hundreds of times hoisted a sheep in a similar manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">We passed scarcely any persons on our road, and, when we did, they -seemed to think little enough of such a sight as a man who looked like -a porter carrying another who was overcome by drink on his back, while -a third, probably, as they supposed, the drunken man's friend, walked -by their side. Such sights were common enough in the days when I was -young and George II. had just ascended the throne, and not only in -Dublin but in England and all over his dominions. Nay, in those days -things were even worse than this; men went to taverns to pass their -evenings, leaving word with others, to whom they paid a regular wage, -to come and fetch them at a certain hour, by which time they would be -drunk. Noblemen's servants came for them on the same errand to their -wine clubs and the ordinaries, and even many divines thought it no sin -to be seen reeling home tipsy through the streets at night, or being -led off by their children who had sought them out at their houses of -use.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, I say, we passed unheeded by those few we encountered, and in this -manner we came to Essex Stairs, where Oliver deposited his burden upon -the shingle under a dry arch and went to fetch the boat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," he said, "whether 'tis best to put him in the boat at -once and so to row about the river, or whether to let him lie here -until O'Rourke's friend comes to see that the scheme is accomplished. -He is to wear a red cockade by which we shall know him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I imagine 'twould be best to take to the boat," I said. "Any one may -come down to the river shore at any moment, but the river is as still -as death. And we could lie under yon vessel that is listed over by the -tide, and so see those on shore without being seen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art right, Gerald; thou art right. No thing could be better. -Wilt lend a hand to carry him in? And then we will shove off."</p> - -<p class="normal">We bent over the prostrate form enveloped now in Oliver's frieze coat, -when, as we did so, we heard behind us a voice--a voice that terrified -me so that I felt as though paralysed, or as if the marrow were -freezing in my bones--a voice that said, "Softly, softly! What! -Would'st put off without the other guineas and the acquittance?" And, -starting to our feet, we saw behind us O'Rourke regarding us with a -dreadful smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Mr. Quin," he went on, "thou would'st have tricked me, eh! and -hast found some other youth to send to the plantations in place of -this young sprig here--who, in spite of his gay apparel and his smart -wig, I recognise as the brat who was not long ago in my custody, and -shall be again. A pretty trick in faith! a pretty trick to try on me -who, in my time, have served the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender, -and hoodwinked the whole joyous three. Why, Quin," he went on -banteringly, "you are not so clever as I took you for."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may outwit you yet, O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "in spite of your -cleverness. But," he continued, in a peculiar voice that I could not -understand, and, indeed, I felt now so miserable and wretched at the -failure of our undertaking that I paid but little heed to what they -said, "I suppose you, too, were tricking me. If we had got down the -river we should have found no <i>Dove</i> there to take our cargo on -board."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, Quin," continued the other, "for what then think you I have -paid you the guineas, which now you must return or I will blow your -brains out? The <i>Dove</i> is there fast enough, though she is anchor -a-peak now and ready to sail. And in my pocket, too, are the remaining -pieces--for I am an honest man, Quin, and keep my word--and with a -line from my lord absolving thee, which now thou must forego." Here he -burst into another laugh such as he had once or twice given before, -and went on, "Yet I cannot but smile at your simplicity. What! pay -thee twenty-five guineas for nothing, and entrust an honest gentleman -with a red cockade in his hat--ha, ha!--to look after my affairs when -I can look after them myself. 'Tis not thus that I have prospered and -made my way. Now, Quin, give back my guineas to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Oliver, "that will never be. We have the guineas and we -mean to keep them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am armed," said O'Rourke, "and I will have them; yet, ere I take -them from you or shoot you like a dog, let's see what creature, what -scaramouch or scarecrow thou hast picked out of the gutter to send to -Virginia in place of this boy, Gerald," and, stooping down, he bent on -his knee and flung Oliver's cloak off my cousin's form till it lay -there as it had fallen, and with a ray from the oil lamp of the -archway glistening on his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" he exclaimed, "what! nay, 'tis impossible--yet, yet, oh! oh! -Quin, thou damnable, thou double-dyed scoundrel; why--why--thou -wretch, thou execrable wretch, had this happened, had this wicked plot -been put in practice, my lord would have slain me. Oh! thou villain. I -should have been ruined for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As so you shall be yet," said Oliver springing at him as he spoke, -"as you shall be if I myself do not slay you first."</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment he had seized the ruffian by the throat with his great -strong hands while he called to me to secure his pistols, which I did -without loss of time; and he so pressed upon his windpipe that -O'Rourke's face became almost black. Yet he struggled, too, being, as -I think, no coward, and dealt out buffets and blows right and left, -some falling on Oliver's face and some on his body. But gradually -these blows relaxed in strength and fell harmless on his more brawny -antagonist, who never loosed the hold upon his throat, so that 'twas -easy to perceive, even in the dark of the archway with its one faint -illumination, he must in a few moments be choked to death.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not kill him, Oliver," I whispered, "do not kill him. Spare him -now; he is harmless."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether it was my words or his own merciful nature I know not, but, at -any rate, Oliver did at last relax his hold on the other, who, when he -had done so, fell to the earth and, after writhing there for a moment, -lay perfectly still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must be speedy," said Oliver, "and lose no time. Look! towards the -east the light is coming. Quick. Do you rifle his pockets for the -money and the paper--above all, the paper; do not overlook that! while -I lift the other into the boat. And gag him with this sash," taking -Roderick's sword sash out of his pocket and tossing it to me; "gag him -tightly, but leave him room to breathe. I have not killed him, though -I came near doing so."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he snatched up my cousin as easily as though he had been -a valise, and went down with him to the boat, throwing him lightly -into the stern sheets, and then pushed the boat off by the bow so that -she should be ready to float the moment we were in.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for me, I went through O'Rourke's pockets hurriedly, finding in -them the bag with the remainder of the guineas (in which we discovered -afterwards three more jacks, so that we were led to think that he -followed, amongst other pursuits, that of passing bad coin whenever it -was possible) and also the paper--a scrawl in my uncle's hand writing -saying that "he thanked Mr. Quin for what he had done in ridding -Ireland of an atrocious young villain and impostor falsely calling -himself a member of a noble family, to wit, his own"--and pledging -himself to hold Mr. Quin harmless of any proceedings on that account.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, tying Roderick's sash in O'Rourke's mouth, I ran down to the -boat, and, jumping into it, rolled up my cloak and coat and took the -bow oar.</p> - -<p class="normal">Half-an-hour later the dawn was come; already there was stealing over -the river that faint light which, even on a winter morning, tells that -the day is at hand, and our oars were keeping time well together as we -drew near to the ship that was to carry my wretched cousin far away to -the Virginia plantations--the plantations to which he and his father -fondly hoped they would have consigned me.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<h5>AND CAGED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">As we thus drew near to what Oliver said was the <i>Dove</i>--he having -been down to reconnoitre her the day before from the shore--our burden -gave some signs of coming to, or rather of awakening from his drunken -slumbers. First he rolled his head about under the cloak, then he got -it free from the folds, and, when he had done this, he opened his -bloodshot eyes and stared at us with a look of tipsy amazement. Yet, -so strong was the unhappy youth's ruling passion, that he exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you have a taste of that spirit left in the flask, I pray you give -it me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Feel in the pocket over by your left shoulder," replied Quin, "and -you may yet find a drop or so--'twill warm you." Then, turning to me -as the wretched Roderick did as he was bidden, Quin said over his -shoulder, in a whisper, "'Tis a charity to give it him. It is the last -he will taste for many a day. The skippers do not give their prisoners -aught else but water on these cruises, and as for the planters--if all -accounts be true!---they treat their white slaves no better." After -saying which he bent to his oar again.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the draught seemed to arouse Roderick and even to put -sense into his muddled pate, since, as he gazed on the shore on either -side, he muttered, "This is not the way home. Not the way I know of"; -but, even as he did so, the fumes of the overnight's liquor, stirred -up perhaps by the new accession of drink, got the better of him again -and once more he closed his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis thy way home at any rate," I heard Oliver mutter; "the way to -the only home you will know of for some years. And may it be as happy -a one to thee as thou destined it for thy cousin." Then turning -swiftly to me, he said, "Pull two strokes, Gerald; we are alongside -the <i>Dove</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">As we slewed round to run alongside the gangway, there stood at the -top of it as villainous a looking old man as ever it was my lot to -see. An old man clad in a dirty plush suit with, on his head, a hat -covered with tarnished, or rather blackened, silver lace; one who -squinted hideously down at us.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whence come you, friends?" he asked. "From the noble Captain -O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "and we bring you his parting gift. The -youth is not well, having partaken freely over night, doubting, -perhaps, of your hospitality. Now, sir, if you will produce the price -named to the Captain and send down a man or so to haul him on board, -he is very much at your service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," said the captain, "let's see him though, first. I don't want -to buy a dead man--as I did up at Glasgow not long ago--or one who has -lost his limbs. Here, Jabez, and you, Peter, jump down and haul him -up," while, as he spoke, he produced a filthy skin bag from his pocket -and began counting out some guineas into his palm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Those called Jabez and Peter--one of whom was a negro--did as they -were bidden, and, shoving our boat a little forward so as to bring the -stern, where Roderick lay, up to the platform of the gangway, they -quickly threw off the cloak, and, seizing his limbs, began to lift -them up and let them fall, to see that they were not broken nor he -dead. But such treatment even this poor bemused and sodden creature -could not bear without protest, so, as the men seized him and swiftly -bore him up the gangway until he stood upon the deck of the <i>Dove</i>--a -filthy, dirty-looking craft, with, however, a great, high poop much -ornamented with brass and gilding--he began to strike out right and -left, and to scream and ejaculate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hands off, you ruffians, hands off you wretches, I say! What! do you -know who I am; do you know that I am the son of the Viscount St. -Amande and his heir? Let me go, you dogs!" and putting his hand to -where his sword should have been and not finding it there, he struck -at the negro, who, instantly striking back at him, fetched him such a -blow on the cheek as sent him reeling against the rough-tree rail, -where he glowered and muttered at all around.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark ye, young sir," said the villainous looking skipper, "we have -been informed before this by the gallant Captain O'Rourke that it -pleases you to style yourself a son of Lord St. Amande." Here Quin -nodded up to the speaker, saying, "'Tis so, I have even at this moment -a paper in my pocket saying that he does so claim that position." "But -let me tell you," the captain went on, "'twill avail you nothing on -board this craft. I am, like the honest man in the boat below, in -possession of a paper from his lordship saying you will try this tack -with me, and, as I tell you, 'twill profit you nothing. You may call -yourself what you will but you must accustom yourself to this ship for -some weeks, at least, and take your part with these your companions -till you reach your destination. While, if you do not do so, I will -have you brained with a marling-spike or flung into the sea, or, since -I cannot afford to lose you, have you put in irons in the hold," after -which he turned away from Roderick, handed the twenty guineas to -Oliver, and bellowed out his orders for getting the ship under weigh -at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, as I glanced at those whom the man spoke of as his -companions, my heart went out to my cousin, and, cruelly as he had -ever used me, and even remembering that he had chuckled over the doom -which now was his having been planned for me, I could not but pity -him. Nay, I think, had it been possible, that I would have saved him, -would have had him set on shore free again, and would have trusted to -Heaven to soften his heart and make him grow into a better man. His -companions! The creatures with whom he was to live and herd until he -reached Virginia, and even afterwards, maybe. Oh! 'twas dreadful to -reflect upon. They stood upon the deck of that horrid-looking craft, -surrounding him, jeering at him, mocking at him, but not one with a -look of pity in his or her face--as, indeed, 'twas not likely they -should have since his fate was theirs. Amongst them there were -convicted felons with chains to their legs and arms, who were being -sent out so as to ease the jails which were always full to -overflowing; there were women who were coin clippers and coiners, and -some who--for I learnt their histories afterwards--had been -traffickers in their own sex, or ensnarers of drunken men, or even -murderesses--though some of them were fair enough in looks and some, -also, quite young. And there were youths, nay, lads, younger than I -was, who had been sold to the captain (to be again re-sold by him at -the end of his voyage) by their own unnatural parents, so that, as -they became lost, the parents' shame might become forgotten. There, -too, lying about, were drunken lads and girls who had been picked up -in the streets and brought on board and kept drunk until the ship -should sail; there were some who looked like peasants who had been -enticed in from the country, since they wore scarce any clothes, -and--horror of horrors!--sitting weeping on a cask was a clergyman, -still with his cassock on and with a red blotchy face. He--I -afterwards learnt also--had forged to obtain money for drink, and this -was his doom. And those who were not drunk, or sleeping off the -effects of drink, came near that other drunkard, my cousin, and, -approaching as close as possible to him until the mate and sailors -kicked them, men and women, indiscriminately away, jeered at and -derided him and made him welcome, and asked him if he had any money, -or what he thought of the prospects of a sea voyage, and with what -feelings he looked forward to a sojourn in Virginia as a slave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As a slave! In Virginia!" he screamed, taking in his situation at -last. "As a slave in Virginia! Oh, God! spare me, spare me! 'Tis a -mistake, I tell you. A mistake. Another one was meant, not I. 'Tis he -who should go. 'Tis he! Send for him and set me free!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And then they all laughed again, while the captain, seizing him -roughly by the collar, threw him amidst the others, telling him he -would do very well for him; and then they hauled up the gangway and -gradually the ship wore round.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had commenced her voyage.</p> - -<p class="normal">So he went forth a slave and, as he went, the pity that had welled up -into my heart for him became stifled and I felt it no more. For, -think! As he screamed in his desperation for mercy he asked for it -only for himself, he would at that moment, in spite of the horrors -which he saw, have cheerfully sent me in his place. Nay, in his place -or not, he had meant that I should go. Why, I asked myself, should I -pity him?</p> - -<p class="normal">The <i>Dove</i> had quickly caught the north wind that was blowing now; she -had slipped away so easily from us when once her anchor was up and her -sails set, that, as she went heeling over down the river, we saw but -little of her but her stern and her poop lantern swinging aft. And so -we turned our boat's nose back to the city and prepared to return.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oliver was himself silent; I think because in his noble heart there -was the same conflict going on that there was in mine--the regret for -having been concerned in such a deed fighting with the pleasant -conviction that he had foiled a most wicked plot against me and thus -defeated two utter villains, my uncle and Considine, while, on a third -one, the punishment had fallen. And now that years have passed it -pleasures me to think that it was so with him, and that that brave -heart of his could, even at this moment of triumph, feel sorrow for -what he had thought it best to do. A brave heart, I have called it; a -noble heart--and so it was. A heart ever entendered to me from the -first when, God He knows, there was none else to show me kindness; a -heart that so long as it beat was ever loyal, good, and true.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you put back to the bridge?" I asked him, seeing that he still -kept the boat's course headed up river. "Surely it would be best to -make straight for the packet and go on board at once. Suppose O'Rourke -has recovered by now and informed my uncle. What may he not do to us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing," replied Oliver, as he still set a fast stroke, "nothing. To -begin with--which is the most important thing--he cannot catch the -<i>Dove</i>, no, not even if he could persuade the captain of one of His -Majesty's sloops now lying in the river to put out in chase of -her,--such vessels as she is can show their heels to anything they -have a few hours' start of. And as for what he can do to us--why, what -can he attempt? We have been employed on his service, I hold in my -pocket a letter from him justifying me in kidnapping the youth who -claims to be Lord St. Amande. Well! that is what thy cousin claims to -be in succession, and, even if he did not do so, how can thy uncle -make any stir, or announce himself, as he needs must do if he blows on -me; he, a participator in what I have done? While for O'Rourke--the -noble Captain O'Rourke, Hanoverian spy, Jacobite plotter, white or -black cockade wearer as the time serves and the wind shifts, crimp and -bully,--think you he will come within a hundred leagues of Mr. Robert -St. Amande after having failed so damnably? Nay! more likely are we to -meet him in the streets of London when we get there than in those of -Dublin! So bend thy back to it, Gerald, and pull hard for Essex -Bridge. The tide runs out apace."</p> - -<p class="normal">As we passed up through the shipping lying in the river and on to our -destination, Quin did utter one more remark to the effect that, if he -had in very fact slain O'Rourke, or injured him so badly that he could -not rise from the spot where he fell, it was possible we might still -find him there, but that he did not think such a thing was very likely -to come about.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fellow has as many lives as a cat," he said,--"he was nigh hanged -at Carlisle for a Jacobite in the last rising, and almost shot at St. -Germain for a Hanoverian, yet he escaped these and countless other -dangers somehow--and he has also as many holes as a rat in this city -into which he can creep and lie hid, to say nought of his den farther -up the river, of which you know well, since you escaped from it. 'Tis -not like we shall find him when we land."</p> - -<p class="normal">To land it was now time since we had reached the bridge, though by -this the river had run so low that we were forced to get out and drag -the boat up through the slime and ooze of the bank to get her high and -dry. And as we were doing so, I, who was lifting her with my face -turned towards the shore, saw a sight that had quite as terrible an -effect on me as the sight of O'Rourke standing over us a couple of -hours before had had. For, wrapped in long horsemen's cloaks and with -their hats pulled down well over their eyes, I observed upon the -river's brink my uncle and his friend and creature, Wolfe Considine, -both of whom were regarding us fixedly. But, when I whispered this -news to Oliver as I bent over the bows of the boat, he whispered back -to me, "No matter; fear nothing. Courage. Courage!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, fellow," said my uncle to Quin, as we approached them, I -walking behind my companion and with my own hat drawn down as low as -possible so as to evade observation if I could do so. "Well, fellow, -so thou hast determined to change thy song and serve Lord St. Amande, -instead of vomiting forth abuse on him and doing thy best to thwart -him. Is't not so?" and he let his cloak fall so that his features were -visible, and his fierce, piercing eyes shone forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To serve Lord St. Amande is my wish," Quin replied gruffly, returning -his glance boldly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And have done so this morning, as I understand, though where that -tosspot, O'Rourke, is, who should be here to settle matters, I know -not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," Quin replied in the same tone as before, "I have done good -service to his lordship this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the fellow is away to sea? The <i>Dove</i> has sailed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, away to sea on the road to Virginia! The <i>Dove</i> has sailed."</p> - -<p class="normal">But while this discourse was taking place I was trembling in my wet -boots--remember, I was still but a youth to whom tremblings and fears -may be forgiven--for fixed on me were the eyes of Considine, and I -knew that, disguised as I was in handsome apparel, if he had not yet -recognised me he would do so ere long.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," my uncle went on, "I should have thought you would have chosen -a somewhat different style of companion for a helpmate in the affair -than such a dandy youth as this. Wigs and laces and riding-boots, to -say nought of roquelaures and swords by the side, are scarcely the kit -of those who assist in carrying youths off for shipment to the King's -colonies!" and he bent those piercing eyes on me while I saw that -other pair, those of Considine, looking me through and through.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," went on my uncle, "doubtless you know your own business best, -and I suppose the youth is some young cogger, or decoy, whom thou -can'st trust and who finds his account in the affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Considine, springing at me, "'tis the whelp himself, and -we are undone; some other has gone to sea, if any, in his place. Look! -Look, my lord, you should know him well," and, tearing off my wig, he -left me standing exposed to my uncle's regard and that of a few -shore-side denizens who had been idly gazing upon us, and who now -testified great interest in what was taking place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" exclaimed my uncle, rushing forward. "What! 'Tis Gerald, as I -live, and still safe on shore. Thou villain!" he said, turning to -Oliver, "what hast thou done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The duty I was paid for and the duty I love. My duty to Lord St. -Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Scoundrel," the other said, lugging out his rapier, "this is too -much. I will slay you and the boy as you stand here. Considine, draw."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed Oliver, "Considine draw--though you could not have -bade him do an thing he fears more. But so will I. Let's see whether -steel or a blue plum shall get the best of this fray"; with which he -produced his two great pistols and pointed one at each of his -opponents, while the knot of people who had now gathered together on -the bank cheered him to the echo. And especially they did so when they -learnt the circumstances of the dispute, and that, in me, they beheld -the real Lord St. Amande, the youth deprived of his rights, and, in -Robert St. Amande, the usurper whose misdeeds were now the talk of the -lower parts of Dublin, if no other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" the latter exclaimed, thrusting his rapier back into the -scabbard with a clash, "put up thy pistols, fellow. This is no -place for such an encounter. Nor will I stain my sword with thy base -blood. But remember," he said, coming a pace or two closer, as he saw -Oliver return the pistols to his belt, "remember, you shall not -escape. You have my writing in your pocket to hold you free of this -morning's work, but"--and he looked terrible as he hissed forth the -words--"think not that I will fail to yet be avenged. Even though you -should go to the other end of the known world I will follow you or -have you followed, while as for you," turning to me, "I will never -know peace night nor day till I have blotted your life out of -existence. And if you have not gone forth to the plantations this -morning, 'tis but a short reprieve. If I do not have thy life, as I -will, as I will"--and here he opened and clenched both his hands as he -repeated himself, so that he looked as though trying to clutch at me -and tear me to pieces--"as I will, why then still shalt thou be -transported to the colonies, thou devil's brat!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay to the colonies," struck in Quin, "to the colonies, whereunto now -the <i>Dove</i> is taking the false usurper, or the future false usurper of -the title of St. Amande, while the real owner remains here safe and -sound for the present at least. To the colonies. Right!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The <i>Dove</i>. The false usurper," exclaimed Considine and my uncle -together, while their faces became blanched with fear and rising -apprehension. "The <i>Dove</i> taking the false usurper. Villain!" said my -uncle, "what mean you? Speak!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean, <i>villain</i>," replied Oliver, "that on board the <i>Dove</i>, now -well out to sea, is one of the false claimants of the title of St. -Amande, one of those who were concerned in the plot to ship this, the -rightful lord, off to Virginia. I mean that, amongst the convicts and -the scum of Dublin who have been bought for slavery, there goes -Roderick St. Amande, your son, sold also into slavery like the rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">From my uncle's lips there came a cry terrible to hear, a cry which -mingled with the shouts of those who could catch Oliver's words; then -with another and a shorter cry, more resembling a gasp, he fell -fainting into the arms of Considine.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<h5>MY MOTHER</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">That afternoon we took the first packet boat for Holyhead, where, -being favoured by fortune, we found a fast coach about to start for -London which, in spite of its rapidity and in consequence of the -badness of the roads and some falls of snow in the West, took -five days in reaching the Metropolis. Yet, long as the journey -was--though rendered easier by the quality of the inns at which we -halted and the excellence of the provisions, to which, in my youth, -there was nothing to compare in Ireland--yet, I say, long as the -journey was and tedious, I was happy to find myself once more in -London--in which I had not been since I was a child of six years of -age, when my father and mother were then living happily together in a -house in the new Hanover Square. Nay, I was more than happy at the -thought that I was about so soon to see my dear and honoured mother -again, so that, as the coach neared London, I almost sang with joy at -the thought of all my troubles being over, and of how we should surely -live together in peace and happiness now until my rights were made -good.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oliver had rid himself of his occupation by a simple method; he had -merely abstained from going to his work at the butcher's any more, and -had sent round to say he had found other and more suitable employment, -and, as a slight recompense to his master for any loss he might -suppose himself to sustain, had bidden him keep the few shillings of -wage due to him. So that he felt himself, as he said, now entirely -free to look after and protect me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For look after you I always shall," he said, "So long as it is in my -power and until I see you accorded your own. Then, when that happens, -you may send me about my business as soon as you will, and I will -shift for myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It can never happen," I replied, "that the time will come when you -and I must part,"--alas! I spake as what I was, a child who knew not -and could not foresee the stirring events that were to be my portion -for many years to come, nor how the seas were to roll between me and -that honest creature for many of those years,--"nor can the time ever -come when I shall fail in my gratitude to you or to Mr. Kinchella. -You! my only friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Oliver's face lighted up with pleasure as I spoke, and he grasped -my hand and said that if Providence would only allow it we would never -part.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Mr. Kinchella I had gone between the time of the affray with my -uncle--of whom the last I saw was his being half-led and half-carried -to a coach by Considine, after he had learnt who it was who had gone -to Virginia in my place--and the sailing of the packet, and I had -found him busy making his preparations for departing for his vacation, -the Michaelmas term being now nearly at its end. He was astonished at -my appearance, as he might well be, and muttered, as he looked -smilingly down at me, "<i>Quantum mutatus ab illo!</i> Have you come in for -your fortune and proved your right to your title, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But when I had sat me down and told him the whole of my story and of -the strange things that had happened during the last two days, he -seemed as though thunderstruck and mused deeply ere he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a strong blow, a brave blow," he exclaimed at last, "and boldly -planned. Moreover, I see not how your uncle can proceed against you or -Quin for your parts in it. If he goes against Quin, there is the paper -showing that he was willing that you should be sold into slavery. -Therefore he dare not move in that quarter. Then, as for you, if he -proceeds against you he acknowledges your existence and so stultifies -his own claim. And, again, he cannot move because witnesses could be -brought against him to show that the scheme was his, though the -carrying out of it was different from his hopes--those player wenches -could also testify, though I know not whether a court of law would -admit, or receive, the evidence of such as they."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are others besides," I said. "Mr. Garrett, with whom Roderick -quarrelled, and who seemed to be of a good position; he, too, heard -it. Also, there were several by the river this morning who witnessed -the fit into which my uncle fell when he found how his wicked plot had -recoiled on his own head----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, hoist with his own petard! Well, I am honestly glad of it. And, -moreover, 'tis something different from the musty old story told by -the romancers and the playwrights. With these gentry 'tis ever the -rightful heir who goes to the wall and is the sufferer, but here in -this, a real matter, 'tis the heir who--up to now at least--is -triumphant and the villains who are outwitted. Gerald, when you -get to London, you should make your way to the coffee-houses--there is -the 'Rose'; also 'Button's' still exists, I think, besides many -others--and offer thy story to the gentlemen who write. It might make -the fortune of a play, if not of the author."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis as yet not ripe," I replied, though I could not but laugh at -good Mr. Kinchella's homely jokes; "the first act is hardly over. Let -us wait and see what the result may be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Prosperity to you, at least," he said, gravely now, "and success in -all that you desire. For that I will ever pray, as well as for a happy -issue for you and your mother out of all your afflictions," and here -he bent his head as he recited those solemn and beautiful words. "And -now, farewell, Gerald, farewell, Lord St. Amande. Any letter sent to -me here at the College must ever find me, and it will pleasure me to -have news of you, and more especially so if that news is good. Fare ye -well."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so, after my thanks had been again and again tendered to him, we -parted, and I, making my way swiftly to the quay was soon on board the -packet. But I thought much of him for many a long day after, and when, -at last, Providence once more, in its strange and mysterious -visitations, brought me face to face with him again and I saw him well -and happy and prosperous, I did indeed rejoice.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the coach was rolling rapidly over Hadley Heath, that dreaded -spot where so many travellers had met with robbery, and sometimes -death, from highwaymen (one of whom and the most notorious, one -Richard Turpin, was hanged at York a little more than a year after we -passed over it); and the passengers began to point out to each other -the bodies of three malefactors swinging in chains as a warning to -others. Yet, it being daytime as we crossed the heath, I took very -little heed of their stories and legends, but peered out of the window -and told Oliver that this place was not many miles from London, and -that we should soon be there now. As, indeed, he could see for -himself, for soon the villages came thicker and thicker together; -between Whetstone and Highgate we passed many beautiful seats, -doubtless the suburban retreats of noblemen and gentry, while, at -Highgate itself, so close were the dwellings together that, had we not -met a party of huntsmen with their horns and hounds, who, the guard -told us, were returning from hunting, we should have supposed we were -already in London instead of being still four miles from it. But those -four miles passed quickly and soon we arrived.</p> - -<p class="normal">So now we had come to the inn whence the north-western coaches -departed, and at which they arrived three times a week with a -regularity that seems incredible, since, even in the worst of wintry -weather, they were scarce ever more than a day behind in their time. -And here amongst all the bustle of our arrival, of the shouts of the -hackney coachmen to those whom they would have as fares, and of the -porters with their knots, Oliver and I engaged a coach, had our -necessaries put on it, and gave directions to be driven to my mother's -abode.</p> - -<p class="normal">The house in Denzil Street, to which we soon arrived, presented but a -sordid appearance such as made me feel a pang to think that my dear -mother should be forced to live in such a place when, had she but -possessed all that should have been hers, her lot would have been far -different. The street had once been, I have since heard, the abode of -fashion--indeed 'twas a connection of my mother's house, one William -Holles, a relative of that Denzil Holles who had been, as many even -now recall, one of the members impeached of high treason by King -Charles, who built it,--but certainly 'twas no longer so. Many of the -houses seemed to be occupied by persons of no better condition than -musicians and music-teachers; a laundry-woman had a shop at one end in -which might be seen the girls at work as we passed by; there were -notices of rooms to be let in several of the houses, and there was -much garbage in the streets. Heaven knows I had seen so much squalor -and wretchedness in Dublin, and especially in the places where I had -lain hid, that I, of all others, should have felt but little distaste -for even such a place as this, nor should I have done so in this case -had it not been that it seemed so ill-fitting a spot for my mother, -with her high birth and early surroundings, to be now harbouring in.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor did the maid who opened the door to us present a more favourable -appearance than the street itself, she being a dirty, slatternly -creature who looked as if the pots and pans of the kitchen were her -constant companions. Neither was she of an overwhelming civility, -since, when she stood before us, her remark was:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What want you?" and, seeing our necessaries on the hackney coach, -added, "There are no spare rooms here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We wish to see the Lady St. Amande," I said, assuming as much -sternness as a youth of my age could do. "Tell her----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is sick," the servant replied, "and can see none but her -physician."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell her," I went on, "that her son, Lord St. Amande, with his -companion, Mr. Quin, has arrived from Ireland. Tell her, if you -please, at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether the creature had heard something of my untoward affairs I know -not, but, anyway, she glanced at me more favourably on receipt of this -intelligence, and, gruffly still, bade us wait in the passage while -she went to speak to her ladyship. But I could not do that, and so, -springing up the stairs after her, was into the room as soon as she, -and, almost ere she had announced my arrival, I was enfolded in my -mother's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was at this time not more than thirty-five years of age, having -been married at eighteen to my father, yet, already, pain and sickness -had laid its hand heavily upon her, and, along with trouble, had -saddened, though they could not mar, her sweet face. The brow that, as -a still younger woman I remembered so soft and smooth, and over which -I had loved to pass my hands, was now lined and had a wrinkle or so -across it; the deep chestnut hair had threads of silver in it, the -soft blue eyes looked worn and weary and had lost their sparkle. For -sorrow and tribulation had been her lot since first my unhappy father -had crossed her path, and to that sorrow there had come ill health in -the form of a palsy, that, as she had written Mr. Kinchella, sometimes -left her free but mostly kept her fast confined to the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, the servant having quitted us, she drew me to her closer -still as I knelt beside her, and removing my wig which, she said -through her tears and smiles, made me look too old, she fondled and -caressed me and whispered her happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my child, my sweet," she said, "how it joys me to hold thee to my -heart again after I had thought thee dead and gone from me. My dear, -my dear, my loved one, 'tis as June to my heart after a long and cruel -winter to have thee by me once again; my child, my child of many tears -and longings. And how handsome thou art," pushing back my hair with -her thin white hand, "even after all thy sufferings, how beautiful, -how like--Ah! how like <i>him</i>," and here she shuddered as she recalled -my father, though she drew me nearer to her as she did so and took my -head upon her breast. Then she wept a little, silently, so that I -could feel her tears falling upon my face and wetting my collar, and -whispered half to herself and half to me, "So like him, who was as -handsome as an angel when first I saw him, yet so vile--so vile." And -then, bending her head even nearer to me so that her lips touched my -ear, she murmured, "Is't true? was it as that gentleman, your friend, -wrote me? Did he die alone and unbefriended? Were there none by him to -succour him? None to pity him? Oh! Gerald, Gerald, my husband that -once was," she moaned, "oh! Gerald, Gerald, how different it might all -have been if thou would'st have had it so."</p> - -<p class="normal">We stayed locked in each other's arms I know not how long, while she -wept and smiled over me and wept again over my dead father. After -which, calming herself somewhat, she bade me go and fetch Oliver of -whom I had whispered something to her in the time, since she would see -and thank him for all that he had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">So Oliver came up from the passage where he had been sitting patiently -enough while whistling softly to himself, and stood before her as she -spoke gratefully as well as graciously to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," she said after she had given him her hand, which Oliver bent -over and kissed as a gentleman might have done, and with a grace -which, I think, he must have acquired when he followed the great Duke -twenty years before and was himself a gallant young soldier of -eighteen years of age. "Sir, how shall a poor widow thank you for all -that you have done for her son and your friend?"--here Oliver smiled -pleasedly at my being termed his friend, but disclaimed having done -aught of much weight for me. "Nay, nay," she went on, "do not say -that. Why! you have brought him forth from the jaws of death, you have -saved him from those scheming villains to place him in his mother's -arms again, you have risked your own safety to do so--shall I not -thank you deeply, tenderly, for all that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam," Oliver said, "my lady, I could not see the poor youth so set -and put upon and stand idly by without so much as lending him a hand. -And, my lady, if there was any reason necessary for helping him beyond -that of mercy towards one so sorely afflicted as he was, I had it in -the fact that I had known him long before at New Ross."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At New Ross!" my mother exclaimed. "At New Ross! Is that your part of -the country?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is, my lady, and there, after quitting the army, I lived for many -years working at my trade. And it was there that I have often seen -Gerald--as I have come to call him, madam, since we have been drawn so -close together, tho' I am not forgetful of his rank nor of the respect -due to it--with you and with his late lordship, more especially when -you all drove into New Ross in the light chaise my lord brought from -London, or when Gerald would ride into the town on his pony with his -groom."</p> - -<p class="normal">These recollections, more especially that of the light chaise which -had been a new toy, or gift, from my father to his wife at the time -they were living happily together and he still had some means, -disturbed my dear mother so much that the tears sprang to her eyes. -And Oliver, who was tender as a child in spite of his determination -and great fierceness when about any business which demanded such -qualities, desisted at once and, turning his remarks into such a -channel as he doubtless thought more acceptable, went on to say:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, my lady, none who ever saw his present lordship then--and there -are scores still alive who have done so--but would testify to him. So -it cannot be but that his uncle must ere long desist from the wicked -and iniquitous claims he has put forward and be utterly routed and -defeated, when my lord here shall enjoy his own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I pray so. I pray so," said my mother. "And, moreover, his kinsman -the Marquis now seems, since my husband's death, to veer more to our -side than to Robert's. So we may hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now the slatternly servant came in bearing upon a tray some -refreshments that my mother had bade her fetch, there being some good -salted beef, a stew and some vegetables, a bottle of Madeira and two -fair-sized pots of London ale. And being by now well hunger-stung, for -we had eaten nought since the early morning, we fell to and made a -good meal while my mother, sitting by my side and ministering to both -our wants, listened to all we had to tell her. Wherefore, you may be -sure, when she heard of the wicked plot which my uncle had conceived -for shipping me off as a redemptioner, or an indented servant, to -Virginia, and of how it had failed and the biter had himself been bit -through the astuteness of Oliver as well as his manfulness in carrying -out the plans he conceived, she again poured out her gratitude to him -and told him that never could she forget all that he had done for her -and her child.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X</a></h4> - -<h5>A NOBLE KINSMAN</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">As the evening drew on Oliver retired, accompanied by the -maid-servant, to seek a room in one of the neighbouring houses which -advertised that they had these commodities at the service of those who -required them; and on the latter returning to say that Mr. Quin had -found a room hard by which he considered suitable, my mother and I sat -over the fire discussing the past, the present, and the future.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something," she said, "must be done for Mr. Quin, and that at once. -For his kindness we may well be indebted to him, nay, must, since he -seems of so noble a nature that he would be wounded at any repayment -being offered. But for the money which he has spent--that must -instantly be returned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I doubt his taking it," I said. "He regards it as mine since he has -come by it entirely through saving me from my uncle's evil designs. -And, indeed, if you do but consider, dear mother, so it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," she said. "Nay. He would have earned the money easily enough -had he been false to you and put you in that dreadful ship the -<i>Dove</i>--gracious Heavens, that such a vile craft should have so fair a -name!--surely we must not let him lose any of that money by being true -and staunch to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give it back to him, then," I exclaimed with a laugh, "if you can -persuade him to take it. Of which, however, as I said before, I doubt -me much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" she replied, "I cannot give it back to him, but interest must -be made with the Marquis to take up your cause and help you, as he -seems well disposed to do now. For myself, until the villain, Robert, -is defeated, I have but the hundred guineas a year left me by my -uncle--a bare pittance only sufficing to pay for these rooms, the -physician's account and my food."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall I not see the Marquis?" I asked; "surely I should go to him and -tell him all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou shalt see him soon enough," she said. "I have acquainted him -with the fact of all I knew--no human creature could have guessed or -thought how much more there is to tell, nor how wicked can be the -heart of man, ay! even though that man be one's own flesh and -blood--and also that you might soon be expected to reach London. And -he has sent two or three times a week to know if you had yet arrived: -doubtless he will send again to-morrow. He lives but a stone's throw -from here, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, on the north side."</p> - -<p class="normal">At ten o'clock my mother told me she must go to her bed for she was -tired and never sat up later, and she rang for Molly, the maid, to ask -if the small room in which she kept her dresses and other apparel had -been prepared for me as she desired. Hearing that it was in readiness, -she told me that a good night's rest would do me good also, and -prepared to retire. And now for the first time, as she rose to depart, -I saw what inroads her disease had made upon her and that she who, -when I first remember her, stood up a straight, erect young woman, was -much bent and walked by the aid of a crutch-stick, and that one of her -hands shook and quivered always.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet strange it is," she said, observing my glance, "that there come -moments when I am free from all suffering and affliction, when I can -stand as straight as I stood at the altar on my wedding day, and when -this hand is as steady as your own. Nay, I can almost will it to be -so. See!" and she held it out before me and it did not quiver, while -next, seizing a huge brass candelabra that stood upon the table, she -lifted that and held it at arm's-length, and neither did that quiver -nor was any of the hot wax from the lighted candles spilt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! courage, mother," I said, "courage! You have but to will it and -you are strong. There is enough strength in that arm, which can lift a -candlestick as heavy as this, to do anything it needs. You could hold -a runaway horse with it, or keep off a dog flying at your throat, -or---or--" I went on with a laugh at my silly thoughts, "thrust a -sword through a man's body if you desired to do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was bending to kiss me for the last time that night while I spoke, -but as I uttered the final words of my boyish speech she stopped and -drew herself up so that she was now erect, and then, in a voice that -seemed altered somewhat, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Thrust a sword through a man's body if I desired to do so! Thrust a -sword through a man's body!' My sweet, such deeds ill befit a woman. -Yet there are two men in this world through whose bodies I would -willingly thrust a sword if they stood before me and I had one to my -hand. I mean thy uncle Robert, the false-faced, black-avised villain, -and that other and most despicable liar, his friend and creature, -Wolfe Considine."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as she spoke, her hand fell powerless by her side and -commenced to shake and quiver once more, when, putting her other upon -my arm, she bade me Good Night and blessed and kissed me and went to -her room.</p> - -<p class="normal">I lay awake some time in my own bed thinking on what she had said, for -well I knew what had prompted her to speak as she had done. I knew -that, outside the evil and the wrongs that my uncle had testified to -me, there was that other far greater wrong to her which no honest -woman could bear; the base insinuations that Considine had uttered -about his intimacy with her, insinuations partly made to gratify his -own vanity, and partly, as I judged, to enable Robert St. Amande to -cast doubt upon my birth. And I thought that, knowing as she did know, -of these horrid villainies, it was not strange she should feel and -speak so bitterly. These my musings, with some sounds of revellers -passing by outside singing and hooting ribald songs--though one -with a sweet voice sang the old song "Ianthe the Lovely," most -bewitchingly--kept me awake, as I say, some time, but at last I -slumbered in peace within my mother's shelter. Yet not without -disturbance through the night either, for once on turning in my bed I -heard her call to me to know if all was well, and once I heard her -murmur, "The villains, oh! the villains," and still once more I heard -her sob, "Oh! Gerald, Gerald, if thou would'st but have had it so!" by -which I knew that she was thinking of my misguided father and not of -me.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the morning as we sat at our breakfast of chocolate and -bread--with, for me, another plate of the corned beef which, my mother -told me, the landlady put up in great pickling tubs when the winter -was approaching and, with her family, lived upon for many months, -serving out to the lodgers who wished for them fair-sized platesful at -two pence each--there came a demure gentleman who asked of Molly if -the young lord had yet arrived, or if news had been heard of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the Marquis's gentleman," my mother whispered to me, "and, -observe, dear one, he speaks of you as 'the young lord.'" Then, -raising her voice a little, she bade Molly show him in as his lordship -had arrived.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had entered the room and made a profound obeisance to her and -another to me, he said that, since I was now in London, he had orders -to carry me to the Marquis in a coach which he had outside, for he was -ready to receive me, being always in his library by eleven o'clock to -grant interviews to those who had business With him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will attend his lordship," my mother said. "I presume, Mr. Horton, -there can be no objection to my going too. And I feel well this -morning; a sight of my child's dear face has benefited me much; I am -quite capable of reaching the coach."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Horton replied that he knew of no reason whatever why her ladyship -should not go too, and so, when my mother had put on a heavy cloak and -riding hood, for the morning was cold and frosty, we set forth. But, -previous to starting, I ran to the house where Oliver had got a room -and, finding him sitting in a parlour eating his breakfast, I told him -where we were bound.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rejoiced to hear the news I brought him and offered his escort, -saying he would go on the box of the coach; but I told him this was -unnecessary, and so I left, promising him that, when I returned, I -would come and fetch him and we would sally forth to see some of the -sights of the town. Yet, so faithful was he, that, although he -complied with my desire that he should not accompany us, I found out -in the course of the morning that he followed the coach to the -Marquis's house and there kept guard outside while we were within.</p> - -<p class="normal">My kinsman's library, to which we were shown by several bowing -footmen to whom Mr. Horton had consigned us, plainly testified that we -were in a room which was used for the purpose from which it took its -name--that it was indeed a library and was so considered. Around the -apartment on great shelves were books upon books of all subjects and -all dates, and of all classes of binding. Some there were bound in -velvet, some in silk as well as vellum, leather and paper: some were -so large that a woman could scarce have lifted them, and some so small -that they would easily have fitted into a waistcoat pocket. And then, -too, there were maps and charts hanging on the walls of counties and -countries, and one of London alone--a marvellous thing showing all -the streets and fields as well as principal buildings of this great -city!--while, when I saw another stretched on a folder and designated, -"A chart of all the known possessions of His Majesty's Colonies of -America," you may be sure my eye sought out, and my finger traced, the -spot where Virginia stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him everything, my dear," said my mother, "as you have told it -to me, and fear nothing. He is just if stern, and, above all, hates -fraud and trickery. Moreover, he has forgiven me for being of those -who espoused, and still espouse, the fallen house of Stuart, and is -not unfriendly to me. Also, remember, he must now be our only hope and -trust on earth, so do thy best to impress him favourably with thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">I promised her that I would indeed do all she bade me and, then, while -I was turning over a most beautiful book called "Sylva, or a Discourse -concerning Forest Trees," by a gentleman named Evelyn, a footman -opened the door and the Marquis of Amesbury stood before us.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Louise," he said, going up to her and taking her hand, while, at the -same time, he kissed her slightly on the cheek, "I am glad to see that -you can come forth again. I trust you are more at ease." Then, turning -to me, he gazed down and said, "So, this is your child," and he placed -his hand upon my head. As he did so, and after I had made my bow, I -gazed at him and saw a tall gentleman of over sixty years of age, I -should suppose, very lean and very pale, clad in a complete suit of -black velvet and with but little lace at either breast or wrists. The -gravity of his face was extreme, though he looked not unkind; and, -truly, his manner had not been so up to now.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," he said, when he had motioned me to a seat and was himself -standing before us with his back to the huge fire that roared up the -chimney, "well, so you claim to be the present Viscount St. Amande and -my heir when it pleases God to take me. And you, Louise," turning to -her, "proclaim that he is so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can a mother not know her own child, Charles, or have so hard a heart -as not to wish to see him enjoy his own?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph! It hath been done. My Lady Macclesfield, though 'tis true she -earned the contempt of all, ever called her son, the wretched man, -Savage, an impostor; and endeavoured to work his ruin, in which desire -she came at last near to success, since this very month he has stood -at the Old Bailey on a charge of murder. Yet, Louise, thou art not as -she was."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, God forbid! The wicked wanton! Yet I know not--there are those -who have vilified me for their own wicked ends and said the worst that -scoundrels can say of any woman. But, Charles, you are honest and have -ever held a character for justice amongst men, and, although you loved -not my uncle nor my kin, you would not think evil of me. You could -not, oh! you could not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked down gravely at her, but still again with kindness in his -eyes, and then he said: "No, no. Never, Louise, never. You were always -too good and true, too fond of the unhappy man to have been aught but -faithful. And, although I opposed his marriage with you, it was never -because of your own self but because of your uncle's principles. Had -he had his way, which I thank God was not permitted, he would have -brought back the false-hearted, grieving Stuarts to the throne; he -would have cursed his country and its laws and religion. But for you, -Louise, for you, child, I never had aught of distrust, but only pity -deep and infinite that you should wed with such a poor thing as my own -dead kinsman and heir, this lad's father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless you," said she, seizing his hand with her well one and -kissing it ere he could draw it away, "God bless you for your words as -I bless Him for having raised you up to be even as a father to the -fatherless--to my poor fatherless boy. And, Charles, if those whom you -loved so well, your own wife and child, had not been taken from you, I -would pray night and day for them as I pray for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">He turned away and passed his hand swiftly across his eyes as she -mentioned those whom he had once loved so dearly and who, as all the -world knows, were both torn from him in one short week! 'Twas by one -of those dreadful visitations of smallpox which carries off kings and -queens impartially with their humbler subjects, as was the case -fifteen or sixteen years before, when it swept away the Emperor of -Germany and the Dauphin and Dauphiness of France as well as their -child, and also ravaged both those great countries.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, turning back to us, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"But now, ere anything else can be done, I must know all that has -occurred since your husband's death. Something I have heard from you, -Louise, and something from other sources yet there is much I cannot -comprehend. Nay, more, there are some things that seem incredible. It -is said he was buried by the subscription of a few friends--many of -them the lowest of the low, with whom he in life wassailed and -caroused--yet, how could it be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was penniless, Charles," my mother sobbed; "penniless. He had -nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Penniless! Penniless! Nay. Nay. His brother was here in London at the -time and I bade him let Gerald have all necessaries in reason, and I -dispatched to Mr. Considine a hundred guineas for his funeral by a -sure hand. I could not let the heir to my title----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" rang out my mother's voice clear and distinct, while I stared -at the Marquis as though doubting whether he were bereft of his senses -or I of my hearing. "What, you sent money by and to them for him? Oh! -Charles, never did he receive one farthing of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I have cause to fear. And I know not what is to be done with thy -brother-in-law. He seems to be a rogue of the worst degree."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now she fixed her eyes upon him and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You say so, knowing only the little that you do know, that he and his -base servant, Considine--Considine," she, repeated, "Considine, the -traducer of my fame whom yet, if God spares me, I will have a heavy -reckoning with; you know only that they have conspired to defraud my -child of his rights, nay, more, of his honest name. That they have -stolen the money you sent to succour my wretched husband in his last -days and to bury him as he should be buried according to his rank and -fashion when he was dead. That you know, Charles, Marquis of Amesbury, -kinsman of this my child, but you do not know all. Will you hear their -further villainies, will you know all that they have attempted on him; -will you do this, you who are powerful and great, and then will you -stretch forth your right hand and crush, as you can crush, these -wretches to the earth while, at the same time, you also stretch forth -that hand to shelter and protect this innocent child, your heir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She had spoken as one inspired by her wrongs; her eyes had flashed and -her frame had quivered as might have quivered that of a pythoness as -she denounced some creature who had outraged her gods, but the effort -had been too much for her weak frame--she could sustain it no further, -and, sinking back into her chair, she was but able to gasp out in -conclusion, "For his sake, Charles, for the sake of an innocent child. -For his sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon which the Marquis, after trying to calm her, said gently:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If there are other villainies to hear, I will hear them, yet it seems -impossible that more can remain behind. And, Louise," continued the -old man, touching her arm very gently, "dry your tears. I cannot bear -to see you shed them. Nor have you need. The boy shall be righted. I -promise you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him all, Gerald; tell him all," my mother sobbed. "Oh! it would -be enough to melt a heart of stone, let alone one so kind as his."</p> - -<p class="normal">So I told the Marquis everything that has here been set down.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> - -<h5>IMPRESSED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Many as are the villainies which I have known of in my life," said -the Marquis, when the tale was told, "never have I known aught such as -this. It appears incredible. Incredible that such things can be, and -in these days. Heavens and earth!---in the days of King George the -Second, when law and order are firmly established." Then he fell -a-musing and lay back in the deep chair before the fire in which he -had sat during the whole of my recitation, and nodded his head once or -twice, and muttered to himself. After which he spake aloud and said, -"And the hundred guineas that I sent to bury Gerald; they were those, -I imagine, which the villain O'Rourke paid to your protector, Quin. -Humph! 'Tis well they have fallen into the hands of an honest man -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was at the collation which he offered to my mother and me, for it -was now nearly two o'clock, that he once more took up the subject and -spake out his heart to us, but before he did so he bade the footmen -who had waited at table begone and leave us alone. And, in truth, I -was glad enough to see these immense creatures leave the room and -cease their ministrations to our wants, for they had wearied me, and, -I think, my mother too. All our hopes were centred in what the Marquis -would do to espouse my cause, so you may well imagine that the roasts -appealed not to us nor did the sweetmeats and iced froth and fruit, -nor the wines which they pressed upon us. But when these menials were -gone, he, as I say, again went on with the subject that engrossed all -our thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The first thing to do is," he said, "to obtain the certificate of the -child's birth--of that of course there can be no difficulty; then -proof must be forthcoming that this lad is that child--that, I -imagine, can also be obtained?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are hundreds who can testify to it," my mother answered. "The -boy's nurse still lives; he had many tutors both in Ireland and in -London; Mr. Quin, his benefactor, remembers when his father and I used -to drive into New Ross with him; and Mr. Kinchella, a gentleman at -Dublin University, does the same. Charles, there can be no doubt of -many witnesses being able to testify."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is well. Then the next most important thing is that I should -acknowledge him as my heir, which I will publicly do----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Again I say--God bless you, Charles. God ever bless you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"----and," he went on, "in this my house. Next week I have a gathering -here of many of the peers who affect our interests,"--he was speaking -of the Whig party. "Sir Robert sits firm now, and may do so for years -to come. Yet 'tis ever wise to guard against aught the Tories may -attempt. And I expect him to come as well as the Duke of Devonshire, -and Lord Trevor--to them all you shall be presented. And 'tis well -that Mr. Robert St. Amande affects not our side, he will be easier to -deal with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will you do to frustrate him?" my mother asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do?" the Marquis replied. "Why, first I will proclaim him to all as -an utter villain who has falsely assumed a title to which he has no -claim. Next, the new Irish Lord Chancellor, Wyndham,--who is indebted -somewhat to me for his appointment--must be told to reverse his -favours to the scoundrel, and this boy's name must be entered in his -place. But next week when he has met my friends we can do more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And for that other unhappy one--that wretched Roderick?" said my -mother, whose woman's heart could not but feel pity for the miseries -to which he was now subjected, to which he must be subjected, "can -naught be done for him? Could he not be rescued from the dreadful fate -into which he has been plunged?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless," the Marquis replied. "Doubtless. Those who are sold to -the planters, as distinguished from those who are convicts, can easily -be bought back. Only it must be those of his own kind who do it. His -worthy father seems to have some choice spirits in his pay; he may -easily send out Mr. Considine or Mr. O'Rourke with a bagful of guineas -to purchase him back again. For our side,"--and my mother and I told -each other that night how good it was to hear our powerful relative -identify himself with us as he did--"for our side we cannot do -anything. Moreover, we are supposed to know nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, my lord," I replied, "we <i>do</i> know, and they know we do. Ere my -uncle fainted in Considine's arms he had heard and knew all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the Marquis replied, "yes. But he also knew that your friend, -Quin, held his indemnity for what was done. So, rely upon it, he will, -nay, he must, hold his peace. Kidnapping, or authorising kidnapping, -is punished, and righteously punished, for 'tis a fearful crime, so -heavily by our laws that your uncle stands in imminent deadly peril -for what he has done. And, remember, he is not a peer, therefore he -has no benefit to claim. Rest assured that though he has lost his son -he will never proclaim what has happened nor divulge a word on the -subject. Though, that he may send agents to Virginia to endeavour to -obtain his recall is most probable, since, wretch as he is, there must -be some heart in his bosom for his own child."</p> - -<p class="normal">So thus, as you may now observe, that great man, my relative, was won -over to my cause, and already it seemed as though the champion whom -dear Oliver had prayed that the Lord might raise up for me had been -discovered. And vastly happy were all of us, my mother, myself, and -that faithful friend, at thinking such was the case. So happy indeed -were we that we made a little feast to celebrate the Marquis's -goodness, and, as he had given my mother a purse with a hundred -guineas in it to be spent on anything I should need, we had ample -means for doing so. We decorated her humble parlour with gay flowers -from the market hard by, we provided a choice meal or so to which we -three sat down merrily, all of us drinking the Marquis's health in -champaign; we even persuaded my mother to be carried to the theatre in -Lincoln's Inn Fields, close to Denzil Street, where from a box we -witnessed Mr. Congreve's affecting play, "The Mourning Bride," at -which my mother wept much.</p> - -<p class="normal">Unfortunately, as I have now to tell, these joys were to be of but -short duration; the time had not yet arrived for our happiness to be -complete and on a sure foundation; both of us were still to be -trouble-haunted and I to be tossed about by Fate, and, as it seemed, -never to know peace.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oliver had a friend and countryman who lived on Tower Hill in a -considerable way of business in the cattle trading line, and he, being -desirous of seeing this friend so that he might thereby, perhaps, be -put into some way of earning a livelihood in the trade he understood, -made up his mind to go and visit him. That I should go too was a -natural conclusion, and, indeed, had we not gone about together I -should have got no necessary exercise at all, since my mother was so -confined to the house, while, on his part, he knew little of the -town--nay, nothing--so that I was really a guide to him. Thus together -we trudged about, looking for all the world like some young gentleman -and his governor, since I was generally dressed in my fine clothes -bought in Dublin, while Quin wore a sober suit of black which he, too, -had purchased. Many a sight did we see in company in this manner, for -both of us were curious as children and revelled much in all the -doings of the wondrous great city--we went together to the Abbey, we -walked to Execution Dock and Kennington Common to witness men hanged, -or hanging, or, as the mob then called such things, "the step and -string dance"; to see where the noblemen play bowls at Mary-le-bone -Gardens in the summer and frequent the gaming tables in the winter; to -the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge; and countless other places too -numerous to write down.</p> - -<p class="normal">But amongst all these our walks and excursions it befell, as I have -said, that one fine frosty day Oliver and I decided to go into the -city to Tower Hill, there to see his friend, the dealer. We set out -therefore along Fleet Street, that wondrous place where the writers -for the news-sheets and letters dwell, and where we could not but -laugh at the other strange characters we encountered. First there flew -out a fellow, whom I have since learnt they call a "plyer," who bawled -at us to know if either of us wanted a wife, since they had blooming -virgins to dispose of or rich widows with jointures. Then a woman -screamed to us from the brandy-shop, "We keeps a parson here who'll do -your business for you," while, dreadful to narrate, as all this was -going on, there reeled by a drunken divine swearing that he would have -more drink at the "Bishop Blaize's Head," since he had married three -couples that day at five shillings a brace and had more to tie up on -the morrow.</p> - -<p class="normal">Resisting, however, all these importunities, though we could not -resist glancing at the advertisements of such things in the windows, -such as, "Without Imposition. Weddings performed cheap here"; or, "The -Old and True Register. Without Imposition. Weddings performed by a -clergyman educated at the University of Oxford, chaplain to a -nobleman," we went along and so, at last, we came to Tower Hill.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," said Oliver, "let's see for the abode. The number is -twenty-seven, this is fourteen--it cannot be afar. Wil't come in -Gerald and show thyself to my friend, who will surely gape for wonder -at seeing a real lord; or go into the tavern? Or, stay, yonder seems a -decent coffeehouse where, doubtless, you may read a journal or so; or -what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">I was about to say I would go with him and, because I was in a merry -mood, exclaimed that I would treat his friend to so gay a sight as a -real Irish lord when, alas! my boyish attention was attracted by a -raree-show fellow who came along, followed by a mob of children of all -ages, many grown-up men and women, and his servant or assistant. This -latter bore upon his back the long box in which his master kept his -stock-in-trade and apparatus, and, as they drew near, was cursing -vehemently the crowd who wished them to exhibit their tricks and -wonders. "What," he muttered, "show you the fleas that run at tilt -when there is not so much as a groat amongst you all, or the hedgehog -that can divine the stars, or the wonderful snake, for which we paid -twenty Dutch ducatoons at Antwerp--and without payment, the devil take -you all!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But here, while still the children screamed at him and his master and -the elders jeered, his eyes fell on me standing at the hither end of -the street after Oliver had gone in to the house he wanted, and, -advancing down it, he said: "Now here is a young gentleman of quality -or I ne'er saw one, whose purse is lined with many a fat piece I -warrant. Noble, sir," addressing me, and speaking most volubly, "will -you not pay to see our show? We can exhibit you the wonderful snake -and divining hedgehog, the five-legged sheep and six-clawed lobster, -the dolls who dance to the bagpipes' merry squeak and the ape who -scratched the Cardinal's nose in Rome. Or my master will knock you a -knife in at one cheek and out at t'other without pain or bleeding, -swallow dull cotton and blow out fire or make a meal of burning coals, -or by dexterity of hand fill your hat full of guineas from an empty -bottle. And then again, noble sir, we have pills that are good against -an earthquake, so that the worst cannot disturb you; or, again, an -elixir which shall prevent the lightning from harming you even tho' it -strike you fair, or still again----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But here I interrupted him, crying, "Nay! nay! I want not your pills -or elixir, but I have ten minutes to await a friend, so show me your -curious beasts and I will give you a shilling."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And let us see, too," the mob cried. "We must see, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said the master of the raree-show taking the word up while he -opened his box to earn my shilling, "Ay, you must see, too, though -devil a fadge have you got to pay. Yet, ere long, will I hire a booth -where none can see who pay not. I'll lead this dog's out-o'-door life -no longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet neither was it foredoomed for me or any of the vagrant crew around -to see the mountebank's treasures. For as he produced his snake, a -poor huddled up little thing that looked as though it had neither life -nor venom in it, we heard a shouting and bawling at the top end of the -street and the screams of women; and presently saw advancing down it -about fifteen sailors fighting their way along, while still the women -howled at them and they endeavoured to secure all the men around them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Press! The Press!" called out the raree men and our crowd -together, while all fled helter-skelter, leaving me the only one -standing there all by myself, so that, in a moment, I was surrounded -by the press-gang, for such I soon knew it to be. "Your age, name and -calling," said a man to me who seemed to be the leader and was, as I -later learned, the lieutenant in command. He was a poor-looking fellow -very much unlike all ideas I had conceived of His Majesty's naval -officers, and, unlike the officers of the army, had no uniform to -wear. Therefore, since he was one of those poor creatures who are -officers in the navy without money or interest and with mighty little -pay, it was not strange that his clothes were shabby, his boots burst -out, and his hat a thing that would not have done credit to a -scarecrow, though it had a gold cockade, much tarnished, in it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is my affair," I retorted, "and none of yours. Pass on and leave -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment he seemed astonished at my reply as did his men, but then -he said: "Young man, insolence will avail you nothing. I am lieutenant -of His Majesty's ship <i>Namur</i>, on shore for the purpose of -impressment, and you must go with me unless either you have a -protection ticket, are under eighteen, or are a Thames waterman -belonging to an insurance company."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am neither of these things and have no ticket," I replied; "yet I -warn you touch me not. I am the Viscount St. Amande and future Marquis -of Amesbury, and if you assault me it shall go hard with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall it?" he replied, though he seemed staggered for a moment. "We -will see. And for your viscounts and marquises, well! this is not the -part of the town for such goods. However, lord or no lord, you must -come with me, and, if you are one, doubtless you can explain all to -the Admiral. I must do my duty." Then, turning to his followers, he -cried, "Seize upon him."</p> - -<p class="normal">This they at once proceeded to do, or attempt to do, though I resisted -manfully. I whipped out my hanger and stood on the defence while I -shouted lustily for Oliver, hoping he might hear me; and I found some -able auxiliaries in the screaming rabble of women who had been -watching the scene. For no sooner did they see me attacked than they -swooped down upon the press-gang; they belaboured the members of it -with their fists and did much execution on them with their nails, -while all the while they shouted and bawled at them and berated them -for taking honest men and fathers of families away from their homes. -But 'twas all of no avail. The lieutenant knocked my sword out of my -hand with his cutlass, a sailor felled me with a blow of his fist, and -two or three of them drove off the women, so that, in five minutes, I -was secured. And never a sign of Oliver appeared while this was going -on, so that I pictured the dismay of that loyal friend when he should -come forth from the house he was visiting at, and learn the news of -what had befallen me from the viragoes who had taken my part.</p> - -<p class="normal">They carried, or rather dragged, me to a boat lying off the stairs -near the Tower and flung me into it, fastening me to a thwart by one -hand and by the other to a miserable-looking wretch who, with some -more, had been impressed as I had. And so the sailors bent to their -oars while the lieutenant took the rudder lines, and rowed swiftly -down the river on a quick ebbing tide. In this way it was not long ere -we reached the neighbourhood of Woolwich, and I saw before me a -stately man-o'-war with an Admiral's flag flying from her foretopmast -head.</p> - -<p class="normal">That ship was the <i>Namur</i> under orders for the West Indies and North -America, and was to be my home for many a day. Yet I knew it not then, -nor, indeed, could I think aught of my future. My heart was sad and -sorry within me, and, when I thought at all, it was of a far different -home; the home in which my poor sick mother was sitting even now -awaiting my return.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_II" href="#div1Ref_II">PART II</a></h4> - -<h5>THE NARRATIVE OF -JOICE BAMPFYLD OF VIRGINIA</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII</a></h4> - -<h5>A COLONIAL PLANTATION</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">'Tis with no very willing heart that I sit down to write, as best I -may, the account of the vastly strange and remarkable occurrences that -took place in and about my home when I was but a girl of eighteen -years of age, it being then the year of our Lord 1728. Yet, since it -has to be done, let me address myself to the task as ably as I can, -and pray that strength and lucidity may be accorded to me, so that -those who, in days to come, shall read that which I set down, may be -easily led to understand what I now attempt.</p> - -<p class="normal">I, Joice Bampfyld, was, as I say, at the period at which I take up my -pen, nearing eighteen years of age, and I dwelt at Pomfret Manor, -situated, on the southern bank of the James River, in His Majesty's -state of Virginia, the estate being some fifty miles inland from the -mouth of Chesapeake Bay, and some ten miles south-west of the township -of Richmond. On this manor, which had passed into my hands two years -before at the decease of my dear and lamented father, who was of the -third generation of the Bampfylds settled there, we raised tobacco and -corn in large quantities and had good horned cattle and many sheep, -while for the fruits of the earth there was no lack, so that my life -from the first had ever been one of ease and comfort, and, even in -Virginia, we of Pomfret Manor were accounted well-to-do folk. Yet, -comfortable as was the existence here, there was still much in our -surroundings that disturbed that comfort, as it disturbed the comfort -of all our neighbours. Thus, our negro servants were now-a-days not -always to be depended on for their fidelity; sometimes they would -project insurrections and revolts which, when put into practice, -could only be subdued by bloodshed, while our indented or convict -servants--I mean the whites--were even still more troublesome, what -with their runnings away, their constant endeavours to seduce the -blacks from their allegiance, their drunkenness when they could get at -drink, and their general depravity. For depraved they were beyond all -thought, being most of them convicts from the jails in England who had -saved their necks by praying to be sent to Virginia to be sold as -plantation-hands, while the remainder were as often as not criminals -evading justice, who, in England, had cheerfully sold themselves into -four years' slavery (four years being the limit here, though much -longer in the sugar-producing islands of the West Indies) so as to -escape from the eye of justice and begin a new life in a new land. -And, also, amongst them there were defaulting debtors and bankrupts, -men who were flying from their wives and children, women who were -deserting their husbands, and, sometimes, wretches who, when drunk in -the seaport towns at home, had been carried on board and brought to -the colonies, where, although they at first resented their kidnapping, -they soon settled down to be as great villains as their fellows. Yet, -had it not been for these dreadful people, one knows not how the -plantations could have been kept prosperous, since certain it is that -no free-born Englishman in Virginia, or any other of the colonies, -would consent to toil in the fields, while the negroes were so lazy, -and, in many cases, so sullen, that little hard work could be got out -of them. Indoors the blacks would do their duties cheerfully enough; -they loved cooking and nursing; they took pride in polishing and -keeping in order the beautiful furniture which our fathers and -grandfathers had imported from England, and in looking to the silver -and the brasses. They did not even make objection to gardening, -keeping our walks and grass plots in excellent order and our rose -vines well trained against the walls, but that, with their delight of -fiddling at dances and singing of songs, was all that they would do -willingly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet these minor troubles were but little and sank into nothingness -beside the one great trouble, nay, the awful horror, that was always -near us. I mean the Indians. Earlier, in the first Colonial days, the -red men had dwelt in some semblance of friendship with our -forerunners; they would live in peace with them, sleep by their -firesides, eat from their platters, and teach them how to capture all -the game of the forests and the fish of the waters. Yet, even then, -all this harmony would be occasionally disturbed by a sudden outbreak -on their part resulting in a dreadful massacre which, in its turn, -resulted in a massacre on the part of the colonists in retaliation. -So, as time went on, these two races, the white and red, which had -once dwelt as friends together drew away from one another; the Indians -retired further into the Alleghany mountains or even crossed them into -the unknown land lying west of them, while the colonists made good -their holdings on the eastern side of those mountains and defied the -red men. But, still, the state of things was most dreadful--most -horrible. For though the Indians had withdrawn, and, of late years, -had made no great raid on the settlements in our part, one never knew -when they were not meditating an attack upon some quiet manor like my -own, or some peaceful village consisting of a few scattered houses, or -even upon some small town. Men went armed always--at church every -man's loaded firelock, or gun, reposed against the side of the pew in -which he worshipped--no woman thought of going a mile away from home -without an escort, and children who wandered into the woods would -often disappear and never be heard of again. So that one would meet -weeping mothers and sad-faced looking fathers who mourned their -children as dead, nay, who would rather have mourned them as dead than -have had to bow to the living fate that had o'ertaken them. For they -never came back, or, if they came, 'twas in such a shape that they had -better have died than have been taken. One, the child of John Trueby -of Whitefountain, did indeed come back fifteen years after he had been -stolen by the Shawnees, dressed and painted as an Indian of that -tribe, but only to slay his own father with a tomahawk at the -direction of those with whom he had become allied. Another, who had -been stolen by the Doeg Indians, returned only to his native hamlet to -set fire to it, beginning with the wooden frame-house in which his -mother and sisters had mourned him for years. Who, therefore, should -not tremble at the very name of Indian? Who that had a child should -not kneel down and pray to God to take that child's life rather than -let it fall into the hands of the savages, where its nature would -undergo so awful a change, and amongst whom it would develope into a -fiend? For those who once dwelt with the Indians in the mountains, and -adopted their customs and habits, became fiends, 'twas said, and -nothing else.</p> - -<p class="normal">This horror, as well as the dread of being surprised and having our -houses burnt over our heads, we had always with us, always, always; as -well also as the fear of being carried into captivity and tortured; -or, in the case of girls like myself, of being subjected to worse than -torture. When we lay down to sleep at night we knew not whether we -should be awakened ere morning by some one knocking at our door and -calling, "The Indians! The Indians!" If we looked forth on to our -garden to observe its beauties as it lay in the moonlight, we deemed -ourselves fortunate if we did not, some time or other, see the hideous -painted face of a savage and his snake-like eyes gleaming at us from -behind a tree or bush. Sometimes, also, floating down the river at -night, when there was no moon, would be discerned by those who had -sharp eyes the canoes of our dreaded foes bent on some awful errand, -and full of painted, crouching savages. And then, through the still -night air, would ring the ping of bullets discharged from the shore by -some of the men who were always on the watch for such visitations; a -canoe, or perhaps two, would be sunk, and a day or so afterwards there -would be washed ashore the naked bodies of some horrid dyed Indians -who had been drowned, or shot, as they were surprised. I do not say -'twas always so, but it was so very frequently, and scarce a summer -passed by that we did not have some visits from them, while we ever -lived in dread of a determined onslaught from a whole tribe in which -not only our farm, plantations, homesteads, or manors should be -surrounded by hundreds of our foe, but also entire villages or towns.</p> - -<p class="normal">Pomfret Manor--named after the village of Pomfret in Dorsetshire, from -which my great-grandfather, Simon Bampfyld, had removed to Virginia in -the days of King Charles the Second--was the principal house in the -lordship or hundred of Pomfret, as 'twas called in English fashion (of -which fashions we colonists were always very tenacious), and, as we -had thriven exceedingly since first we came, it also gave its name to -the village hard by. Now, my great-grandfather having brought -considerable money with him from home, had soon become one of the -leading colonists, as well as one of the richest, in the -neighbourhood. The house itself had once stood in Dorsetshire, and had -been taken to pieces there and removed bit by bit to Virginia, as is -the case with many other mansions to be found in the colonies. So the -dear place in which I was born had seen the birth of many other -Bampfylds before me when it existed in England, and was consequently -much beloved by us. Constructed of the old red English bricks, with, -for its front, a vast portico with columns of white stone, it made a -pleasant feature in the landscape, while, with careful training, we -had produced a smooth lawn which ran down almost to the banks of the -river, and, on either side of it, we had contrived a sweet pleasaunce, -or garden. Here there grew amidst the rich Virginian vegetation such -flowers--recalling my ancestor's earlier house across the seas--as -roses of all kinds, including the Syrian damask and the white alba; -here, too, sparkled the calendula, or marigold, and there the -wall-flower; while beds of pinks, or, as the flower was called in old -days, the Dianthus, added to the patches of colour. Over our big -porch, so cool to sit in on the hot days, there grew also the native -creepers mingling with the yellow jasmine--a world of gorgeous flowers -in the summer and of warm red leaves in the autumn--in which the -oriole, or golden thrush, would nestle and rear its young. In the rear -of the house was yet another lawn, or plantation, whereon we sat in -the summer under the catalpa trees when 'twas too hot to be in the -front; where the pigeons cooed from their cote and the cattle munched -the soft grass, while, from their kennels, the mastiffs, used for -fighting, or, better still, frightening the Indians who could not face -them, and for tracing runaway negroes, would be heard baying. Around -the grounds came next the belts of pines which were cultivated -largely, both for firing and for the making of much household -furniture; beyond them were the plantations of tobacco and of rice, -which latter had by so fortunate a chance been introduced to our -immediate colonies some thirty years ago.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the house in which I was born and reared, such the place in -which occurred the stirring incidents which now I have to record. -These incidents brought me and mine near unto death; they dealt out -suffering and pain to many and punishment and retribution to one -villain at least. But, also, they brought to my heart so tender and so -sweet a joy, and to him whom I afterwards came to love so deep and -cherished a happiness--as he has since many times told me--that on my -knees nightly I thank my God that He saw fit in His great goodness to -let those incidents take place.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now I will address myself to all I have to tell.</p> - -<p class="normal">When my dear father was within two years of his death, though neither -he nor any other dreamed of it, so hale and strong did he seem, he and -my cousin, Gregory Haller of Whitefountain, set out for Norfolk town -one May morning intending to ride there that day, put up for the -night, and, on the following day, purchase many things that were -wanted for our respective homes; and so back again. Such journeyings -were necessary periodically, and took place usually some six or -eight times a year, I sometimes riding with them also, if I wanted -a new gown or some ribbons imported from England, or a pair of -silver-fringed gloves, or, may be, any pretty nick-nack that I should -happen to set eyes upon which might grace our saloon or living-room. -At other periods, as now, I would be left at home with my companion -and tutoress, Miss Mills, a young English lady who had dwelt with us -for some two years. She had come to the colonies from Bristol, of -which she was a native, in search of employment as a teacher, and with -high recommendations, one being from the Bishop of Bath and Wells, a -most goodly man as all accounts declared. She liked but little our -being left alone without my father, as may well be understood, and -having around us nothing but negroes and bought, or indented, white -servants; yet, whether we liked it or not it had to be borne as best -might be. Both of us could handle pistols, in the use of which my -father had perfected us, as was necessary, or might at any instant be -necessary; and there were about the house one or two men who could -perhaps be relied upon. Such was Mungo, our old negro butler, who, -like myself, was of the fourth generation of his race settled in -Virginia, since his great-grandfather was brought a slave from Africa -and sold to my Lord Baltimore; and there were one or two others of his -colour. Yet, as I say, we liked not being alone and, even on the -hottest summer nights, would have all the great house carefully closed -and barred and shuttered, and would pass our time as best we might by -playing and singing at the spinet, or playing at such games as ombre -or shove-groat. And Mary Mills and I would huddle ourselves together -in my great bed at night for company, and, as we sillily said, for -safety, and shiver and shake over every mouse that ran behind the -wainscot or at every sound we heard without, dreading that it meant -the Indians or a revolt amongst the plantation hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore you may be sure that whenever my father and cousin, or my -father alone, returned from Norfolk or from Jamestown, we were right -glad to see them, and to know that our loneliness as well as our -unprotectedness was over for the time; and so 'twas now. They rode in -as we were sitting down to our midday meal and, after my father and -Gregory had each drunk a good stoup of rum (which we exchange largely -for our tobacco with our brother colonists in Jamaica, the men finding -it a pleasant, wholesome drink, when mixed with water) the former -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"So my chicks have not been harried by the Indian foxes this time -neither. 'Tis well. And see, now, there are some ships in from home. -His Majesty's sloop <i>Terrific</i> is in the Bay, and the girls of -Richmond are preparing to give a dance to the officers--thou should'st -be there, Joice!---and there is a merchantman from London full of -precious stuffs and toys. Yet, since I have no money, I could bring -thee nought, my dear."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here we laughed, for my father ever made this joke preparatory to -producing his presents, and I said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What have you brought?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What have I brought? Well, let me consider. What say you now to a new -horloge for the saloon? our old one is getting crazy in its works, as -well it may be, since my grandfather brought it from home with him. -This one hath Berthould and Mudges' 'scapements, so the captain of the -ship told me," my father went on, reading from a piece of paper, "or -rather wrote it down, and he guarantees it will be going a hundred -years hence. Then, for a silk gown, I have purchased thee some -pieces--our own early ventures in Virginian silk were none too -successful!--which will become thy fair complexion well, and I have an -odd piece of lace or two for a hood. While for you, Miss Mills," with -an old-fashioned bow, which I think he must have learnt when young and -used to attend Governor Spotswood's receptions, "as you are a dark -beauty I have brought also a lace hood, and a new book since you love -verse. 'Tis by one Mr. Thomson, and seems to describe the seasons -prettily. The captain tells me it has ever a ready sale at home."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then we thanked him as best we knew how, after which Gregory--who was -ever timid and retiring before women, though like a lion, as I have -heard others say, when chasing the Indians or a bear or wolf--stepped -forward and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I, too, have brought thee a present, Joice, if thou wilt take it -from my hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke this way because his heart was sore that I could not love him -and would not promise to be his wife, often as he had asked me. Tho', -indeed, I did love him as a cousin, nay, as a brother, only he always -said it was not that he wanted but a love sweeter and dearer than a -sister's.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have brought you," he went on, "a filagree bracelet for your arms, -tho'," in a lower voice, "they need no adornment. And for thy head a -philomot-coloured hood, different in shape from the one uncle has -brought. And its russet hue should well become thy golden hair, that -looks like the wheat when 'tis a-ripening."</p> - -<p class="normal">But here I bade him pay me no more compliments lest I should become -vain, and then we all sat down to our meal together.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h4> - -<h5>THE BOND SLAVE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"And now," said my father, after he and Gregory had eaten well of what -was on the table, such as most excellent fish from the river, one of -our baked hams, potatoes, sweet potatoes, pones and wheaten bread, as -well as puddings of papaw, or custard apples.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now we have a strange recital to make to you young ladies, the -like of which is not often heard, or if heard--for the convict -villains and bought servants are capable of any lies--not much -believed in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" Mary Mills and I both asked in the same breath. "Tho'," -she went on, "perhaps I can guess. Is't some young princess who has -come out as a 'convict villain?'" and here she laughed. "Nay, 'twould -not be so wonderful. From Bristol in my time there were many went -forth who, when they reached here, or the Islands, told marvellous -strange stories of their real position--sometimes imposing so much -upon the planters that there would come letters home asking if such -and such a woman could indeed be the Lady This, or if such and such a -man could be the Lord That? Yet they never could procure proofs that -such was the case."</p> - -<p class="normal">My father and Gregory exchanged glances at her words, and then the -former said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And such a letter I think I must send home. For I have bought to-day -a young fellow--as much out of pity as for any use he is like to be, -such a poor, starved radish of a young man is he--who protests and -swears that 'tis all a mistake his being here, and that some dreadful -villainy has been practised on him. For he says that, though not a -lord himself, he is the son and heir of one, ay! and of a marquis, -too, in the future."</p> - -<p class="normal">I cried out at this, for my girl's curiosity was aroused, and Miss -Mills exclaimed, "'Tis ever the old story. They have talents, these -servants, tho' they apply them but ill. They should turn romancers -when I warrant that they would outdo such stories as 'Polyxander,' or -'L'Illustre Bassa,' or 'Le Grand Cyrus,' or even the wanderings of -Mendes Pinto."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Gregory, "there seems a strain of truth in his words. He -speaks like a gentleman,"--Gregory had been educated at Harvard, so he -was a fitting judge, independently of being a gentleman himself--"and, -undoubtedly, no convict from home or rapscallion fleeing from justice -would talk as assuredly as he does of his father's anger on those who -kidnapped him, or of the certainty of his being sent for by the first -ship from Ireland--whence he has come--if he had not some grounds to -go upon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"From whom did you purchase this youth, Mr. Bampfyld?" asked Mary, who -herself seemed now to be impressed by what they said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"From the most villainous-looking captain I ever set my eyes on," -replied my father; "a fellow who could look no one straight in the -face, but who sold off his cargo as quickly as he could, took the -money, and, with a fine breeze, departed from the Bay last evening, -having taken in some fresh water. His papers were for Newcastle, on -the Delaware, but he said he could make as good a market in Virginia -as there--if not better. I gave," went on my father, "a bond of twelve -hundred pounds of tobacco for this fellow, which I borrowed of Roger -Cliborne, and so miserable did he look that I gave it out of -compassion. Whether he will ever be worth the money is doubtful, but -Heaven send that he, at least, involves us in no trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spake meaning that he trusted the youth would involve us in no -trouble with the Government at home, nor with the Lords of Trade and -Plantations who, since many people had wrongfully been sent out to the -colonies of late years--in spite of Mary Mills' banter---had caused -much investigation to take place recently into such cases, and had, -thereby, created much discomfort and annoyance as well as loss of -money to those into whose hands such people had fallen. Alas! had this -wretched young man caused us no worse trouble than this in the future -we could have borne it well enough. What he did bring upon us was so -terrible that, Christian tho' I trust I am, I cannot refrain from -saying it would have been better that he should have been drowned from -the vessel that brought him over than ever to have been able to curse -Pomfret with his presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sun was dipping towards the Alleghanies by now, so that, at the -back of the house, it was getting cool and pleasant, and Gregory said -that if the ladies so chose we might go down and see the young -gentleman, who was, doubtless, by this time duly placed among the -other convicts, bought-servants and redemptioners. Wherefore, putting -on our sun-hoods, Mary and I went forth with them--who by now had -finished not only their dinner but their beloved pipes and -rum-sangaree--and down to where those poor creatures abode.</p> - -<p class="normal">We had some eighty such, including negroes, at this moment on our -plantation, an a motley collection they were, as I have already told. -Those who came under the name of "redemptioners" were the best workers -as well as the most trustworthy, because, having an object before -them, namely, to establish themselves in the colonies when the service -into which they had sold themselves for four years to pay their -passage out, was over, they worked hard and lived orderly and -respectably, and were generally promoted to be overseers above the -others. Two or three of them were married, their wives having either -come with them or been selected from among the female redemptioners, -and all of them knew either a good trade or were skilful mechanics, so -that they were doubly useful. Then there were the "bought" servants, -as distinguished from the redemptioners, who consisted generally of -the wretched creatures who had been made drunk at home and smuggled on -board when in that state, or who, being beggars in the streets of -Bristol, London, Leith, or Dublin, were but too glad to exchange -their cold and hunger for the prospect of warmth and food in the -colonies--the description of which latter places lost nothing in the -telling by those who shipped them at, you may be sure, a profit. These -were called the "kids," because of having been kidnapped, and also -because most of them were very young. Next, there were the convicts, -the worst of all as a rule to deal with, since many of them were -hardened criminals at home who had been spared hanging and cast for -transportation instead, and had become no better men or women under -the colonial rule. Even in my short life we had had some dreadful -beings amongst these servants, one having been a highwayman at home, -another a coiner and clipper, a third a footpad and a cutthroat, a -fourth a robber of drunken men, and so on, while there were women -whose mode of life in England I may not name nor think of. All were -not, however, equally bad, nor had all been such sinners in England. -One had done no more than steal a loaf when starving, another had -hoaxed a greenhorn with pinchbeck watches; one, when drunk, had -shouted for James Sheppard, a poor lunatic, who had thought to -assassinate the late King, another had been mixed up with Councillor -Layer's silly attempt to bring in the Pretender. Yet all had stood -their trials and had been sentenced to death, but had afterwards had -that sentence commuted. And in every plantation in all the colonies -much the same thing prevailed. The treatment of these bond servants -varied not so much according to the laws of the different countries or -states, as according to the tempers and feelings of their different -owners for the time being. If a man was merciful he treated them well -and fed them well; if he was cruel he beat them and starved them, -whipped both white men and women, when they were naked, with hickory -rods steeped in brine, and, when they were sick, let them die because, -since they were his only for four years, their lives were not worth -preserving. And, although he might not kill them by law, as he might a -negro or a dog, if he did kill them it was unknown for notice to be -taken of it. And sometimes, too, dissipated planters would gamble for -their white men and women as they would for bales of tobacco or bags -of Virginia shillings, so that those who had a hard master one day -exchanged him for a good one on the next, or the case might be exactly -reversed. My father, though firm, could not be considered aught else -but a good master to both his black and white servants. Indian meal -was allowed them in large quantities, while pork--though true it is -that our swine were so numerous that they were accounted almost -valueless--was served out to them regularly. Moreover, those who did -well were given small rewards, even if only a Rosa Americana farthing -now and again, while for floggings, none received them but those who -stole, or ran away and were recaptured, or misbehaved themselves -grossly. But each, on being purchased on to our estate, had read to -him a dreadful list of punishments which he would surely receive if he -did aught to merit them. It was thought well by my father that the -fear of such punishments should be kept ever before their eyes, even -if those punishments were but rarely dealt out.</p> - -<p class="normal">We heard much laughing and many derisive shouts as we drew near the -white servants' quarters, nor had we long to wait or far to go before -we discovered the cause of it, which was our new purchase telling the -others of his miseries and dreadful lot, as he termed it. Through the -breaks in the trees we perceived him seated on a pork barrel--a -miserable-looking figure, unkempt and dirty. His long straight hair, -like a New England Puritan's or a Quaker's, was hanging down his -shoulders; he had no shoes upon his feet, and thus he was holding -forth to his new acquaintances.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So consider," we heard him say, as we drew near, "consider what I, a -gentleman, the Honourable Roderick St. Amande, have suffered. Near -five months at sea, nearly drowned and shipwrecked, with our ship -driven out of her course, then chased by pirates who knew the cargo -there was on board; beaten, ill-used, cuffed and ill-treated by -all--and all of it a mistake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed the man who had been, it was said, a housebreaker, and -was a rough, coarse fellow, "and so was my affair all a mistake. 'Twas -friend Jonathan--Jonathan Wild who hath now himself been hanged, as I -have since heard--who pinched me falsely, but the Government, -recognising my merits more than my lord on the bench, who was asleep -when he tried me, sent me out here where I fell into the hands of old -Nick."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus the wretch presumed to speak of my father, whose Christian name -was Nicholas, and his remarks were received with laughter; upon which -he went on, "Yet, take heart of grace, my young Irish cock-sparrow. -Thou art in good hands. Nick is a good man and will not over-work -thee; and he will feed thee, which is more than thy beggarly country -could well do. Moreover, when thou hast done thy four years' service, -thou canst palm off thy pretended lordship on some young colonial girl -who will doubtless be glad enough to wed thee; if thou makest thy -story plausible. Nay, there is one at hand; Nick hath a daughter fair -as a lily, with lips like roses----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence, villain," said my father in a voice of thunder, as he strode -forth from under the trees, his eyes flashing fiercely. "Thou hound!" -he went on, addressing the man. "Is it thus you dare to speak of me -and mine! Overseer," calling to one who was seated in his hut, and who -came forth at once, "see this man has nought but Indian meal served -out to him during the remainder of his service. How much longer is -that service?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About four months, your honour," the overseer replied.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. Nothing but meal for him, and where there is any one labour -harder than another, set him to it. And, hark ye," he said, turning to -the convict. "If in those four months I find my daughter's name has -been on your foul lips again, you shall be flogged till you are -dead--even though I have to answer for it to the Lords of Trades and -Plantations myself. Go."</p> - -<p class="normal">The fellow slunk away cowed and followed by the overseer who drove him -to the shed he inhabited with the other convicts, and, although it was -their hour of relaxation previous to their last work in the evening, -he ordered him to remain there under pain of flogging. Then my father, -turning to his new purchase, bade him get off the barrel and come -forth under the shade of the trees to where we were.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did so, looking, as I thought, with some awe upon him who could -speak so fiercely and have his orders at once obeyed. Also, we all -observed that when he drew near to us and saw ladies, he took off the -ragged, filthy cap he wore with a polite bow though an easy one, and -with the air of one who is being presented to those with whom he is on -a perfect equality. My father's face relaxed into a slight smile at -this, while Mary whispered to me, "Faith! 'tis becoming vastly -interesting. The creature is, I believe, in very truth, a gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, young man," my father said, "you harp well upon this story of -your being a nobleman's son---the Honourable Roderick St. Amande, you -say you are? What proofs have you of this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The youth looked at him, frankly enough as we thought, and then he -replied, "None here, because of the wicked scheme that has been -practised on me instead of on--but no matter. Yet I have told you the -truth of how I was kidnapped by two ruffians, a man and a youth--when -I was dr--when I had been entertaining my friends in Dublin."</p> - -<p class="normal">This part of his story he had, indeed, told my father and Gregory on -the journey back from Norfolk where he was bought, and they had -already repeated it to us, as you have heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," he continued, "'tis capable enough of proof, if you will prove -it. Write to Dublin, write to the Viscount St. Amande, my father, or -to the King-at-Arms, who hath enrolled him successor to my uncle, -Gerald, the late Lord, or, if you will, write to the Marquis of -Amesbury, whose kinsman and successor, after my father, I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said my father, "the name of the Marquis is known to me. -'Twas once thought he should have been sent Governor of Maryland, only -he would not. He thought himself too great a man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Young man," said Mary Mills, "since you say you are heir to the -Marquis of Amesbury, doubtless you can tell us his lordship's country -seat?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Young lady," he replied, looking at her in so strange a way that, as -she said later that night, she should dread him ever after, "'twere -best to say his 'seats.' One he has near Richmond, in Surrey, a pretty -place; another is in Essex, but the greatest of all is Amesbury Court, -near Bristol--" Mary started at this, for she knew it to be -true--"though in his town house, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, he has some -choice curiosities, to say nothing of some most excellent wine. I -would I had a draught of it now--your infernal American sun burns me -to pieces, and the cruel voyage has nigh killed me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Young man," said Gregory, "remember that, whomsoever you be, you are -here a slave, and not free to express your thoughts either on our -climate or aught else."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May be," replied the youth, "but it cannot be for long, if -this--this--per--gentleman will but make enquiries. A letter may go -from here to Ireland, if the vessel has not such cursed winds as the -slave-ship had that brought me, and a reply come back, within three -months. And if you neither beat nor kill me, but treat me fair, you -shall be well rewarded----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay," said my father, "on this, my estate, it is best for you not to -speak of reward to me. Where rewards are given in Virginia they are -given by the masters, not by the slaves. But, since you keep to your -story and do challenge me to make enquiries as to its veracity, I have -determined to act as a Christian to you. You shall neither be beaten -nor hurt on my plantations--none are who behave well--and, pending the -time that an answer may come as to the letter I shall write, you shall -be fairly treated. If your narrative is true, you shall be free to go -by the next ship that sails for England. If it is false, or it -appeareth that you have used your knowledge of the noble families you -have mentioned to impose on us, you shall be whipped and kept to the -hardest work on the plantations till your time is served."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am obliged to you," the other answered. "And you may be assured -that you will receive confirmation of the truth of all I have told -you. Meanwhile, what is to be my lot until that confirmation comes?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will consider. Can you keep accounts and reckonings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man, perhaps because he felt that was assured of easy -treatment for some space of time at least, gave a laugh at this and -cut a kind of caper, so that we ourselves were almost forced to laugh -outright; and then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The devil an account--saving the young women's pardon--have I ever -kept except to try and check the swindling rogues at the taverns who -were ever for adding on to the scores I owed them, and inserting in -the list bowls of punch and flasks of sherris I had never drunk. And -the fashioners would ever insert charges for hoods for the girls, or -laces for Doll----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your recollections are scarcely seemly before these ladies," my -father again interrupted sternly. "My nephew and I have had already -twice to bid you mind your expressions. Now, sir, hear me and remember -what I say. If I treat you well you must behave yourself as becomes a -gentleman, and use neither strong language nor introduce unseemly -stories into your talk. For, if you do not conform to these orders of -mine, you will be sent back to dwell among the bond-servants to whom -doubtless your language and narratives will be acceptable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I ask pardon," the other said, though by no means graciously, and -speaking rather as one who was forced by an inferior to do that which -he disliked. "I will offend the ladies' delicacy no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, without hesitation, he changed the subject and said, "And when, -sir, may I expect to get some proper food? I have neither eaten nor -drunk since you brought me from the coast this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall have food," my father replied. "Come with us"; while, as we -all went back to the house, he said to Gregory, "'Tis the coolest -rascal that was ever sold as a slave into the colonies. It seems -impossible to doubt but that his story must be true."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h4> - -<h5>A SLAVE'S GRATITUDE!</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And now I have to tell, as briefly as may be, of how the Honourable -Roderick St. Amande--as he said he was, and as we all came to believe -he was in very truth--who had come as a bought slave and bond-servant -to our house, became ere long almost one of us, mixing on the same -footing with us and, indeed, living almost the life of a member of my -father's family. To listen to his discourse was, indeed, to be forced -to believe in him, for while he had ceased to insist upon the truth of -his position, as though 'twas no longer necessary, every word he -uttered showed that he must have held that position at home and had, -at least, mixed amongst those with whom he claimed to be on an -equality. He spoke of other lords and ladies with such easy freedom as -no impostor could have assumed who had only known them by sight or -hearsay; he described London and Dublin, and the Courts of both, in a -manner which other Virginians, who were in the habit of paying -frequent visits home, acknowledged was perfectly just and accurate, -and, above all, his easy assumption of familiarity, if not -superiority, to those whom he designated as "colonials" and -"emigrants," impressed everyone. To my father, whose bread he ate in -easy servitude, he behaved with a not disrespectful freedom; Gregory -he treated as a sort of provincial acquaintance; and to Mary Mills and -myself he assumed an easy degree of intercourse which was at once -amusing and galling. And that he was a bought slave who might be -starved or flogged, and possibly killed if his master were cruelly -disposed, he seemed to have entirely forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet--bitter as is the confession, knowing now how this wretch repaid -at last that which was done for him--all of us came to regard him as -an intimate, and, if the truth must be told, to take some amusement in -his society. To my father he could tell many interesting stories, -young as he was, of men moving in the gay world at home, of whom the -former had heard, or with whose forerunners he had been acquainted. To -Gregory he described the hunting of the fox in England and Ireland; -racing which he had seen at Newmarket and on Hampstead Heath and -Southsea Common, new guns that were invented for the chase, and the -improved breeds of harriers that were trained in Wiltshire. To Mary -and myself--shame on us that we loved to hear such things!--he would -tell of the ladies of the Court and their love affairs and -intriguings; of the women of the theatres and their great appetites -and revellings, and of the balls and ridottos and "hops," as he termed -them, which took place. Of books, though he had been at school at -Harrow, he seemed to know nothing, though he had little scraps of -Latin which he would lug into his conversation as suitable to the -subject. Yet to us, to Mary who had never been allowed to go to a -theatre in England, or to me who dwelt in a land where such a thing -had never at this time been heard of, and where an exhibition of a -polar bear, or a lion, or a camel in a barn was a marvel that drew -crowds from miles around, his talk was agreeable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Unfortunately, however, there was that about him which led us two -women--though I was scarce a woman then--to keep him at his distance. -Being made free of the rum and the sangaree as well as, sometimes, the -imported brandy, and being often with the young gentlemen of other -plantations, whom he soon came to know, he was frequently inebriated, -and, when in this state, was not fit to be encountered. My white -bondmaid, Christian Lamb (who as a girl of fourteen had been sentenced -to death in London for stealing a bottle of sweetmeats, but was -afterwards cast for transportation) was one of the objects of his -passion until her brother, a convict, threatened to have revenge if he -did not desist. Of this brother so strange a thing was related that I -must here repeat it. Going to bid farewell to his sister, Christian, -in the transport at Woolwich, near London, he begged the captain to -take him, too, as a foremast man, but this the other refused, bidding -him brutally to wait but a little while and he would doubtless come -soon "in the proper way," namely, as a convict himself. Enraged, he -went ashore and picked a gentleman's pocket of a handkerchief, when, -sure enough, he came out in the next transport to Virginia, and, -enquiring for his sister, had the extreme good fortune to attract my -father's notice and to be bought by him.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Mary and to me Mr. St. Amande ever used the language of his class, -as, I suppose, in England, and would exclaim:</p> - -<p class="normal">"How beautiful you both are. You, Miss Mills, are dark as the Queen of -Night, as the fellow saith in the play, while you Miss Bampfyld are -like unto the lilies of the field. 'Tis well I have not to stay here -long or my heart would be irremediably gone--split in twain, one half -labelled 'Mary,' t'other 'Joice.' Nay, I know not that I do not love -you both now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Best keep your love, sir," Mary would reply, "for those who wish it, -as doubtless there are many. 'Tis said you admire many of the -bond-women below; why not offer your love to them as well as your -pretty speeches?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he would flush up and reply, "Madam, my love is for my equals. -You forget I am a peer in the future."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And a slave in the present," she would retort, as it seemed to me -then, cruelly. "Therefore are the bond-women your equals."</p> - -<p class="normal">His drunkenness angered my father so, that, sometimes, he would order -him out of the great saloon, where he would unconcernedly sprawl -about, soiling our imported Smyrna and Segodia carpets, disarranging -our old English furniture we prized so much, and rumpling the silk -and satin covers on the couches. Then, when ordered forth, he would -often disappear for a day or so, to be heard of next as being at a -cock-fight at some neighbouring hamlet; or in a drinking bout with our -clergyman, a most depraved divine who was only kept in his position -till a more decorous person could be obtained; or herding down with -the bond-servants and negroes till driven away by the overseers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth," my father would at these times exclaim, "I wish heartily a -letter would come from the Marquis." He had written to him in -preference to Lord St. Amande, reflecting that if, after all, the -fellow was not what he seemed to be, the Marquis must be the man to -set things right, while Lord St. Amande might, in such a case, be an -impostor himself. Yet it grew more and more difficult to suppose this, -since the youth himself had once or twice sent off letters addressed -to "The Right Hon., The Viscount St. Amande," at Grafton Street, -Dublin; to another gentleman addressed as "Wolfe Considine, Esquire," -and to still another addressed as "Lord Charles Garrett, at The -Castle, Dublin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a plaguey fellow this," he said to us of his lordship one day -with a laugh, as he closed the latter up, "to whom I was engaged, as I -seem to remember, to fight a duel on the morning the ruffians -kidnapped me. A son of the Marquis of Tullamore, and a fire-eater, -because his father had got him a pair of colours in Dunmore's -regiment. He will swear I ran away for fear of him, till he gets this -letter telling him I will meet him directly I set foot in Ireland -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What," said my father one night to me as we sat in the porch, "does -he mean when he mutters something about an impostor who claims his -father's title? I have heard him speak on the subject to you and Miss -Mills, though, since I can not abide the youth, I have paid but little -heed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He says," I replied, while my father smoked his great pipe and -listened lazily, "that there is some youth in Ireland who claims to be -the rightful lord, being the son of his uncle, the late Viscount. Yet -he is not his son, he says, being in truth the son of that lord's wife -who lived not with her husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" exclaimed my father, "then 'tis strange he should be here -sold into bond-service while the other is free at home. 'Tis common -enough for such poor lads as that other to get sent away, but peers' -true sons not often. Perhaps," he went on, "it is this gracious youth -who is the impostor and not that other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," I replied, "but from what Mary and I can gather--and he -speaks more freely in his cups than ordinarily--there seems to have -been some plot devised for shipping off that other, but some springe -having been set this one was sent instead. Yet, he says, he cannot -himself comprehend it, since the other was a beggar dwelling with -beggars, while he was amongst the best, so that no confusion should -have arisen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does he say that his father, Lord St. Amande, entered into so foul a -plot as that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, he says the youth was a young criminal cast for transportation -for robbery, but that he escaped from jail and, in the hunt after him, -they secured the wrong one, which he accounts for by both bearing the -same name."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again my father said "Humph!" and pondered awhile, and then, as he -rose to seek his bed, he continued, "We shall know the truth some day, -may be. The Marquis of Amesbury will surely answer my letter, and, -indeed, if this young tosspot be what he says he is, there should -already be some on their way to Virginia to seek for him. He cannot -have been smuggled off without some talk arising about the affair, -and, even if that should not be so, the letters he has sent by the -couriers to his father should bring forth some response--if his tale -is true."</p> - -<p class="normal">So the time went on and the period drew near when news might be -expected from Ireland. As it so went on and that intelligence might be -looked for, we grew more and more sure that Mr. St. Amande's story -must be true. For so certain did he seem of the fact that letters -would come from his father--he knowing not that mine had written to -the Marquis of Amesbury--requiring his release and paying, as the -young man was courteous enough to term it, "my father's charges," that -he threw off any restraint he might previously have had, and treated -us all with even greater freedom than before. Yet, as you shall hear, -he went too far.</p> - -<p class="normal">He would not, however, have gone as far as he did if, at this time, my -father had not fallen into a sickness which obliged him to keep his -bed--alas! it was to bring him to his end!--so that there was none to -control this young man. Gregory, who had his own plantation where he -lived with his widowed mother, and their joint interests to look -after, could not be always at our place, and thus the marvellous thing -came about that Mr. St. Amande, though our bond-servant in actual -fact, did in our house almost what he pleased. He came and went as he -chose, he rode my father's horses, he drank rum morning, noon and -night, and he even brought his degraded friend, the clergyman, into -the house to drink with him under the excuse of that wicked old man -being necessary for my father's spiritual needs. But the latter -ordered that degraded man from the room where he lay sick, and bade -him begone, and, later on, at night, when these two began singing and -bawling in their cups--so that some of the negroes and servants -outside thought the Indians had at last surrounded us!--he staggered -forth from his chamber, and, from the landing, swore he would go down -and shoot them if they did not desist.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now came the time when all this turmoil and this disgrace to our -house was to cease.</p> - -<p class="normal">I was passing one night through the saloon, having, indeed, come in -from the porch where I had been advising with Gregory, who had ridden -over to see us, as to what was to be done if my father remained much -longer sick and we still had this dreadful infliction upon our house, -when to my surprise--for I thought him away cockfighting--I saw him -reel into the hall, and, perceiving me, direct his steps into the room -where I was.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! ha! my pretty Joice!" he exclaimed, as he did so; "ha! ha! my -Virginian beauty. So thou art here! How sweet, too, thou look'st -to-night with thy bare white arms and rosy lips and golden hair. -Faith, Joice! colonist girl though thou art, thou are fit to be -beloved of any," and he hiccoughed loudly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If Gregory had not but gone this instant," I exclaimed, "he should -whip you, you ill-mannered dog, for daring to speak to me thus in my -father's own house. Get you to bed, sir, and disturb not the place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To bed! Not I! 'Tis not yet ten o' the clock and I am not accustomed -to such hours. Nay, Joice, think on't, my dear. Five months at sea, -kicked and cuffed and starved, and now in the land of plenty--plenty -to eat and drink. And to spend, too! See here, my Joice," and he -pulled out a handful of English guineas from his pocket. "Won 'em all -at the match from that put Pringle, who, colonist though he is, hath -impudently been sent to Oxford and is now back. Won't go to bed, -Joice, for hours," he hiccoughed. "No! Fetch me bottle brandy. We'll -sit up together and I'll tell you how I love you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me pass, <i>slave</i>," I exclaimed in my anger, while he still stood -barring my way. "Let me pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoity-toity. Slave, eh? Slave! And for how long, think you, my -pretty? Ships are due in the bay even now, and then I can pay off thy -father and go home. Yet I know not that I will go home. I have -conceived a fancy for Virginia and Virginian girls. Above all for -thee, Joice. I love thy golden head and blue eyes and rosy lips--what -said the actor fellow in the play of old Bess's day, of lips like -roses filled with snow? He must have dreamt of such as thine!--I love -them, I say. And, Joice, I do love thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">I was trembling with anger all the while he spoke, and now I said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"While my father lies sick I rule in this house, and to-morrow that -rule shall see you punished. To-morrow you shall go amongst the -convicts and the bond-servants, and do slaves' work. You tipsy dog, -this house is no place for you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He took no notice of my words beyond a drunken grin, and then, because -he was a cowardly ruffian who thought he could safely assault a young -girl who was alone and defenceless while her father lay ill upstairs, -he sprang towards me and seized me in his arms exclaiming: "Roses -filled with snow! And I will have a kiss from them. I will, I say, I -will. Thy charms madden me, Joice."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, while I struggled with him and beat his face with my clenched -hands, I sent shriek upon shriek forth, and I screamed to my father -and Mary to come and save me from the monster.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ssh-ssh!" he said, while still he endeavoured to kiss me. "Hush, -you pretty fool, hush! You will arouse the house, and kisses cost -nothing--ha, the devil!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He broke off his speech and released me, for now he saw a sight that -struck fear to his craven heart. Standing in the open doorway, his -face as white as the long dressing robe he wore, was my father with -his drawn hanger in his hand, and, behind him, Mary Mills and one or -two negroes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God!" he exclaimed, "my daughter assaulted by my own bought servant. -You villain! your life alone can atone for this." Then, with one step, -his strength returning to him for a moment, he came within distance of -the ruffian, and, reaching his sword on high, struck full at his head. -Fortunately for the other, but unfortunately for future events, his -feebleness made that sword shake in his hand so that it missed the -wretch's head--though only by a hair's breadth--and, descending, -struck off one of his ears so that it fell upon the polished floor of -the saloon, while the weapon cut into his shoulder as it continued its -course.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This time I will make more sure," my father exclaimed, raising the -sword again, but, ere he could renew the attack, with one bound -accompanied by a hideous yell of pain, the villain Roderick St. Amande -had leapt out on to the porch and fled down the steps--his track being -marked by a line of blood. While my poor father, overcome by his -exertions, and seeing that the wretch had escaped, fell back fainting -into the arms of Mary Mills.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV</a></h4> - -<h5>A VISITOR FROM ENGLAND</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Five years have passed away since then and now, when I again begin the -recitation of the strange events of which my house was the centre, and -I, who was then scarcely more than a child, have to record all that -happened around me when I had developed into a woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">By this period my dearly loved father had been long dead; had been, -indeed, borne to his grave nearly four years ago, accompanied by all -that ceremony with which a Virginian gentleman is always interred; and -I ruled in his stead. Thus, you will comprehend, he had lived for some -months after he had endeavoured to slay Mr. St. Amande for his assault -upon me, and during those months we had received information about who -and what he was, though there was still more to be learnt later on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Indeed, he had not fled our house a week ere the courier brought a -letter which had arrived from home; a letter sealed with a great seal -as big as that of the Governor of Virginia, and addressed with much -formal courtesy to "Nicholas Bampfyld, Esquire, Gentleman and Planter, -of Pomfret Manor, on the James River, partly in King and Queen, and -partly in King County, Virginia, etc." And when it was perused we -found it did indeed contain strange matter, though, strange as it was, -not difficult of understanding.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis, who wrote in his own hand, began by stating that, since -all who bore the name of St. Amande were immediate kin of his, he -thanked Mr. Bampfyld for in any way having shown kindness, which he -was not called upon to show, to the youth, Roderick St. Amande. Yet, -he proceeded to state, Mr. Bampfyld had in part been imposed upon by -that young man, since, while he was in truth an heir of the title, he -was by no means an immediate one, nor was his father really the -Viscount St. Amande. The actual possessor of that title, his lordship -said, was Gerald St. Amande, son of the late lord, his heir being -(while Gerald was unmarried and without a son) his uncle Robert, -falsely, at present, terming himself Lord St. Amande, and then, in -succession to him, Roderick St. Amande.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," continued the Marquis, "it was indeed most remarkable that Mr. -Bampfyld's letter should have arrived at the moment it did, for, while -he stated that he had purchased Roderick St. Amande from the captain -of a slave-trading vessel, they at home were under very grave fears -that some similar disaster had befallen Gerald, the real lord, since -he too was missing and no tidings could be gleaned of him. He had, -however, disappeared from London and not from Dublin while left alone -but a little while by a most faithful friend and companion of his (who -was now as one distracted by his loss), and they could only conjecture -that the young lord had either been stolen by kidnappers and sent to -the West Indian or the American plantations, or else impressed for -service in one of His Majesty's vessels, the press having been very -hot of late."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis added that he felt little alarm at the young lord's -future, since he knew it could only be a matter Of time as to his -release, no matter where he had been taken to, while as to Mr. -Roderick St. Amande he trusted Mr. Bampfyld would continue his -kindness to him, put him in the way of returning to his family, and -let him have what was necessary of money, for all of which he begged -Mr. Bampfyld to draw upon him as he saw fit, and the drafts should be -instantly honoured.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, with profuse and reiterated thanks, this nobleman concluded his -letter, and at the same time stated that Mr. Roderick St. Amande might -not intentionally have intended to deceive Mr. Bampfyld as to his -proper position, since, doubtless, his own father--who was a most -unworthy and wicked person--had really fed the youth's mind with the -idea that he was the heir-apparent to the peerage.</p> - -<p class="normal">My father never did draw on the Marquis of Amesbury for the money he -had expended, nor, indeed, would he have any mention ever made of -Roderick St. Amande, though be commissioned Gregory to sit down and -write to his lordship a full account of all the doings of that young -libertine from the time he came to us until he left, and also bade my -cousin not to omit how he had struck off his ear when he would, had he -been able, have slain him. This letter of Gregory's was not answered -until after my father had passed away, when we received another from -the Marquis full of expressions of regret for the misbehaviour of his -relative, and stating that, henceforth, he neither intended to -acknowledge Roderick nor his father as kinsmen of his. Also, he -remarked, that had Mr. Bampfyld killed the profligate he would have -only accorded him his deserts, and could have merited no blame from -honest men for doing so. Likewise, he told us that news had been heard -of the real lord, Gerald, Viscount St. Amande, who had indeed been -impressed for a seaman on board His Majesty's ship <i>Namur</i>, in which -Admiral Sir Chaloner Ogle had hoisted his flag, and that, on the -vessel having sailed the same night and he making known his condition -to the Admiral, that illustrious officer had taken him under his -charge and promised to treat him as a petty officer and promote him to -better things should his command be a long one.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was the last letter we had from home touching this strange -matter--excepting a letter from the Marquis's secretary stating that -his lordship had not as yet been called on to honour any draft of Mr. -Bampfyld's, which he would very willingly do. Yet of the matter itself -there was now to be more trouble, ay! more dreadful, horrid trouble -than had happened up to now. This you shall see later. Meanwhile, our -life went on very peacefully at the Manor, and, when I had reconciled -myself to my dear father's loss, was not an unhappy one. Mary remained -with me ever as my friend and companion, helping me to direct the -household duties, singing and playing with me upon the spinet and the -harpsichord, riding with me sometimes to Richmond, or Norfolk, or -Williamsburg, sometimes called Middle Plantation, and assisting me in -my garden, for which she constantly obtained from her friends in -Bristol many of the dear old English plants and seeds. Yet I feared -that the day must come ere long when she would cease to be an inmate -of my house, tho' still a neighbour. For it was very evident that she -had formed an affection, which was warmly returned, for the young -Irish clergyman whom our neighbour, Mr. Cliborne, had brought out from -England on his return from his last visit there, to replace the -dissolute old man who had been Mr. St. Amande's friend and brother -carouser. This young divine was a very different kind of man from -that other, being most attentive in his duties and expounding the -Word--according to the forms of the Established Church--most -beautifully, and was, withal, a cheerful companion. He could also -write sweet verses--whereby he partly gained, I think, Mary's -heart--and he could take part in a catch or a glee admirably, so that, -when in the evening we all sang together in the saloon, the blacks -would gather round outside to hear and, sometimes, to hum in concert -with us. To add to which his learning was profound.</p> - -<p class="normal">But what interested me more than all was that Mr. Jonathan -Kinchella--such being his name--was able to throw a thoroughly clear -light upon the whole of the transactions connected with the St. Amande -family; he could explain all that you, yourselves, know as to how the -scapegrace, Roderick, came out to Virginia, and he told us of all the -sufferings of that poor young man whom he always spoke of as Gerald, -so that we could not but weep at their recountal. For what woman's -heart, nay, what human heart, would not be touched by the -description of that poor child torn from his mother's arms, living the -life of a beggar in rags, and witnessing the funeral of his father -conducted by charity? Oh! it was pitiful, we said to one another, -pitiful; and when we knelt down to pray at night we besought a -blessing on Mr. Kinchella and on that other good Christian, Quin, the -butcher, for all that they had done for that unhappy young outcast.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, previous to the arrival of this gentleman, I received a visit, of -which I must speak, from another person, who also seemed much -interested in those two cousins, and who, at the time when he came, I -regarded as a most kind, benevolent gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary and I were seated one morning in our dining-saloon, it being then -some months after my father's death, when Mungo entered the room and -said that there was, without, a gentleman on his road to the proposed -new settlement of Georgia. One who, the black added, would be very -glad if I could accord him a moment's reception, since he was a friend -of the St. Amande family, and that his name was Captain O'Rourke.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bidding him be shown into the great saloon--for even now our curiosity -was great to hear any news about this strange family, one of whose -members, and he, doubtless, the worst, had dwelt with us--we entered -that apartment shortly afterwards, and perceived our visitor standing -at the long windows gazing down across the plantations to where the -river ran. As he turned and made us a deep and most courtly bow, we -observed that he was a gentleman of perhaps something more than -middle age, with dark rolling eyes and a somewhat rosy face, and also -that he was of large bulk. He was handsomely dressed in a dark blue -riding-frock, gold laced; with, underneath, a crimson waistcoat, and -his hat was also laced with gold.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ladies," he said, advancing with still another bow, "I know not which -is Mistress Bampfyld, but I thank her for her courtesy in receiving -me." Here I indicated that I was that person and that Mary was my -friend, whereon he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore, madam, I thank you. As I have told your domestic, I am a -friend of the house of St. Amande, whereon, being on my way to Georgia -on a mission concerning my friend, Mr. James Oglethorpe, member of -Parliament for Haslemere in Surrey, I made bold to ride this way. For, -madam, we have heard in England that it was under your hospitable -roof, or your respected father's, that the Honourable Roderick found -shelter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And have you heard, sir, how he repaid that shelter?" I asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard nothing, madam, of that, but I trust it was as became a -gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was as became a villain!" exclaimed Mary.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heavens! madam," said the captain to her, looking most deeply -shocked. "You pain as well as surprise me. As a villain! How we must -all have been deceived in him. As a villain! Tut, tut!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, sir," I asked, "you speak of him as the Honourable Roderick St. -Amande. Yet the Marquis of Amesbury has written us that he is nothing -of the sort, at present at least."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does he so? Does he, indeed? The Marquis! Ah! a noble gentleman and -of great friendship with Sir Robert Walpole. And on what grounds, -madam, does the Marquis write thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On the grounds that Mr. St. Amande's cousin, Gerald, is the present -Viscount St. Amande--and that consequently----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! ha!" he interrupted me, joyfully as it seemed, "so the Marquis -does recognise Gerald! 'Tis well, very well." And here he nodded as -though pleased. "Gerald was ever my favourite. A dear lad!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You knew him, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knew him, madam!" he exclaimed; "knew him! Why, he was my tenderest -care. I was his governor for some time, and watched over him as though -he had been my son."</p> - -<p class="normal">At this moment Mungo brought in the refreshments which in Virginia are -always offered to a caller, and the captain, seeing the various flasks -of wine and the bottles, shook his head somewhat dubiously at them, -saying he never drank till after the noon. Yet, upon persuasion, he -was induced to try a little of the rum, which he pronounced to be -excellent, and, doubtless, much relished by those who could stomach -spirits, which he could rarely do.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for Mary and myself we were determined to gather as much -information as we could from this gallant gentleman who knew the St. -Amande family so well (never suspecting, until later, how much he was -gathering from us), so we continued our questions to him, asking him -among others if Lord Gerald, as we termed him, was handsome.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was a most beautiful lad," said the captain, perceiving that our -interests turned more to him than to his wretched cousin, "with -exquisite features like his sweet mother, a much injured lady. But," -changing the subject back again, "what has become of Roderick, for, in -truth, I come more to seek after him than for aught else? His poor -father has had no news of him now for some long time; not since he -first arrived here and wrote home of all that had befallen him."</p> - -<p class="normal">This astonished us greatly, for we had always figured to ourselves, -when talking the matter over, that Mr. St. Amande must have somehow -made his way back to Ireland in safety. So we told Captain O'Rourke of -our surprise at his information.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When he fled," I said, "he went first to an evil-living old man, our -clergyman, now lying sick unto death from his debaucheries,"--the -captain shook his head mournfully here--"who, however, beyond giving -him a balsamic styptic for his ear would do no more, saying that he -feared my father's wrath too much. Then we learnt afterwards that he -went to the Pringle Manor, where he had become on terms of intimacy -with the young men of the family, but they, on gathering what had -happened, refused also to give him shelter, calling him vile and -ungrateful. So he went forth and has never since been heard of, tho', -indeed, sir, I do trust no ill has befallen him. Bad and wicked as he -was, we would not have him fall into the hands of the Indians, as he -might well have done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Indians, madam!" exclaimed the captain, while I thought he grew -pale as he spoke. "The Indians! Would that be possible here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are ever about," I replied; "sometimes in large bodies, -sometimes creeping through the grass and the woods like snakes. When -they are together they will attack villages and townships, and when -alone, will carry off children or girls--there are many of both, who -have been carried away, living amongst them now, and have themselves -become savages--or they will steal cattle or shoot a solitary man for -his pistol or his sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith," said the captain, "a pleasant part of the world to reside in! -Yet 'tis indeed a noble estate you have here--it reminds me somewhat -of my own in the Wicklow Mountains."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, sir," said Mary, "what are the chances of Lord St. Amande -obtaining his rights, now that the Marquis has declared for him? -Surely his uncle can do nothing against the truth!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The captain mused a moment, shaking his head meditatively and as -though pondering sadly on all the wickedness that had been wrought -against that poor youth, and then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis hard to tell. I fear me his uncle is a bad man--he has, indeed, -deceived me who trusted and believed in him, for he has over and over -again sworn that Gerald was not his brother's child. And I trusted -him, I say, tho' now I begin to doubt. Yet 'tis ever so in this world. -We who are of an innocent and confiding nature are made the sport of -the unscrupulous and designing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," I exclaimed, "surely there is law and justice at home, and -upright judges, especially with so good a king as ours on the throne, -tho', under the wicked Stuarts, it might have been different. And the -judges of England and Ireland, with whom you doubtless are well -acquainted, would not let so base a villain as his uncle prevail."</p> - -<p class="normal">The captain nodded and said he did indeed know many of the judges of -both countries (we learnt afterwards that he spake perfect truth), yet -he doubted. Their judgments and decisions were not always those which -he thought right nor worthy of approval; but still, with so strong a -champion as the Marquis of Amesbury at his back (who could influence -Sir Robert) he must hope that the young man would come by his own. We -pressed him to stay to dinner, to which he consented and did full -justice to our viands, praising them in a hearty, jolly fashion, and -consenting more readily than before to attempt the wines and spirits. -He also expressed much curiosity as to our convict and bond-servant -labour, taking great interest in the various characters described by -us. Indeed, at one time he testified a desire to walk down and inspect -them and their dwellings, but desisted at last, saying we had given -him such excellent accounts that he felt as if he had seen these -creatures with his own eyes. Of them all, the case of Peter Buck, a -highwayman, seemed to interest him the most, and he asked many -questions about him; as to when he had come out, what his appearance -was, and so forth. But, still, he finally decided not to go down to -the plantation and see him or the others, saying he was bound to join -a company of gentlemen at Albemarle Sound that night if possible, who -had a vessel full of Saltzburghers to be conveyed to Savannah.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said he with a laugh, "I do trust, ladies, I shall meet with -none of your Indians on my ride. In battle, or with highwaymen, I know -how to comport myself, and so long as my sword is true and my pistols -well primed can hold my own. But with savages I know not what I should -do, unless it were to cut and run."</p> - -<p class="normal">So he mounted his horse having first bade his hired guide do the same, -while we told him that his road ran too far south-east towards the -coast for him to encounter any savages; and then, having paid -courteous farewells to Mary and me, and having tossed an English gold -coin to Mungo, he saluted us once more most gracefully and rode away.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h4> - -<h5>ANOTHER VISITOR</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Now, when Mr. Kinchella had been brought from England by Mr. -Cliborne--his maintenance--to be supplied amongst us--being fifteen -thousand pounds of tobacco annually and the frame-house built for the -minister--it was not long ere we learnt the true history of Captain -O'Rourke. Nay, it was so soon as we began to speak of the St. Amande -family, and Mr. Kinchella could not but laugh softly when we related -to him the conversation we had had with our visitor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The rogue! The adventurer!" he exclaimed. "And acquainted with the -judges, too. I' faith, he is. With everyone in the land, I should -warrant. Yet, naturally, he might say what he would here; tell his own -tale, chaunt his own song. How was he to suppose any poor student of -Trinity should ever wander to Virginia who knew his history?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then after a little further talk he fell meditating aloud again, -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He may be in truth in the service of Mr. Oglethorpe--a gallant -gentleman who served under Prince Eugene, and is, they say, -recommended for a Generalship--yet how can he have obtained such -service? He has been highwayman, if all told of him is true--perhaps, -for that reason he wished not to encounter Mr. Peter Buck--guinea -dropper and kidnapper--as with Gerald. Nay, Heaven only knows what he -has not been, to say nothing of 'political agent' on both sides. Well. -Well. Let us hope he has turned honest at last. Let us hope so."</p> - -<p class="normal">That an intimacy should spring up between us and Mr. Kinchella was not -to be wondered at, nor, indeed, that he also became popular among many -other families in the counties before mentioned. For, independently of -his own merits, the case of Mr. Roderick St. Amande and our charity -and friendliness to him, as well as his base repayment of them, had -made much talk in all the country round, not only with the gentry but -among others. Even the convicts, we knew, talked about it, as did the -bond-servants; and Christian Lamb, my maid, told me that her brother -had often seen the late lord who died in such poverty ruffling it in -London, where he was well known in gay circles. Indeed, Mr. Kinchella -became mightily liked everywhere and was always welcome at the houses -of his flock. For, besides his gifts of writing-verses and playing the -fiddle and singing agreeably--which, simple accomplishments as they -were, proved mighty acceptable in a community like ours, where we -found the winter evenings long, and the summer ones, too, for the -matter of that--besides all these, I say, and far above them, was his -real goodness as well as sound piety. His sermons were easy and -flowing, suitable alike to the educated and the simple; he expounded -the Word most truthfully, and he never failed to exhort us to remember -that we were Christian English folk, although in a new land, and that -we owed it as a duty to our ancestors to remain such and to be a -credit to the country which had sent us forth. Thus he struck a note -that found an echo in all our hearts, since nothing was felt more -strongly in Virginia than the sense of loyalty to our old home and -home-government. 'Tis true that, in other states farther north, there -were to be found those who talked wildly, and as though their minds -must be distraught, of forming what they termed an American Union -which should cast off the rule of our mother country; but their words -were as idle breath and not to be regarded nor considered seriously. -King George II. was firmly seated on his throne--as anyone might see -who read the beautiful odes and other things written by Mr. Cibber, -which were printed in the London news-journals, and, so, occasionally -reached us--and all Virginians who went to and fro betwixt here and -London spake highly of that great monarch, and of how he received the -colonists graciously and spoke them fair.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the ruse which had been played on Roderick St. Amande and his -father, whereby the young lord had been saved from kidnapping and his -miserable cousin sent in his place, there was little condemnation, but -rather approval amongst our friends and neighbours; and, had it been -possible for Mr. Quin to find his way amongst us, it would have been -easy for him to establish himself comfortably in our colony.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Although," said Mr. Kinchella, "that it was a wrong thing to do -nobody can deny; yet, when Gerald came and told me of it, I could not -find it in my heart to chide him or his friend, Quin, and so I let him -go without a word of reproof. Yet now he is gone, too, and I know not -where he may be. Sir Chaloner Ogle has the reputation of a fighting -sailor, and, once his flag is hoisted at the main topmast-head, he may -take his fleet around the world in search of adventure, and poor -Gerald with it."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now have I arrived at the year 1732, when I was twenty-three years -of age--the year which was to be, perhaps, the most important in my -life, and after which, when I have related all that occurred in it, I -shall have but little more to tell.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the early months of that year nothing happened worthy of record, -except that our mastiffs were found poisoned in February in their -kennels, as well as were those of Mr. Cliborne. This led us to fear -the Indians might be meditating an attack on us, since they dreaded -these animals more than anything else, and would, by hook or crook, -invariably get them destroyed if possible before making a raid. Their -method was for one of them to creep into the settlements and approach -the kennels, when the poison could be easily cast in on some tempting -pieces of meat. Then, the time of year when the nights were dark and -long was that generally selected, as leaving them less open to -observation. On such nights as these all the colonists would be -huddled round their respective hearths, the convicts and bond-servants -having great fires made for them in their outhouses, and the negroes -still greater ones in their quarters. Amongst the gentry, too, the -cold was also combated as best might be; huge wood fires blazed in -every room, while, in the saloons, to add to the warmth and induce -forgetfulness of the winter, games of all descriptions, as well as -dances, would be indulged in. The Virginia reel shared with "Wooing a -Widow," "Grind the Bottle," and "Brother, I am bobbed," the task of -passing the long evenings, and those evenings were generally brought -to a conclusion by hearty suppers, and, for the gentlemen, plentiful -libations of brandy, rum from the West Indies, old Mountain wine -imported from England, to which place it was sent from Malaga, -tobacco, and so on. While such jollities as these prevailed indoors an -Indian might easily creep about the plantations, survey the houses -from the outside, and destroy or steal the live-stock.</p> - -<p class="normal">The poisoning of our hounds led, however, to no further trouble at the -time, and so the winter slipt away, and, at last, we burst into the -glorious Virginian spring, a season when all Nature awakes and breaks -into golden luxuriance. Then the pines begin to put on their fresh -green cones and the gum-trees their leaves, the flowers spring forth -as though born in a night, the creepers clothe themselves in tender -green, and all the woods become gay with the songs of birds--the -golden oriole, the mock-bird, and the whip-poor-will. And over and -around all is the balmy warmth of a southern spring, the brightness of -a southern sun, and the clear, blue atmosphere of a southern sky.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was on such a day as this, in the afternoon, that I going down to -see if my roses, which grew on that side of the lawn by which the road -passed, were budding, observed a gentleman ride up the road, and, -dismounting from his horse, take off his hat and advance to me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam," he said, "I think, from what I gathered in your village, that -I am not mistaken. This is Pomfret Manor, is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">This young gentleman--for I guessed he was but little older -than I--was so handsome and bewitching to look upon, that, as I -answered him, I could but gaze at him. His face, from which shone -forth two eyes that to my foolish fancy seemed like stars, was oval, -and his complexion, though much browned, very clear, while his other -features were most shapely. He wore no wig--which seemed strange to a -Virginian, where the wig is considered the certain mark, or necessary -accompaniment, of a gentleman--yet he did well not to do so, for, -besides considering the warmth of the day, his hair was most beautiful -to see, since it hung down in dark brown curls to his shoulders where -it reposed in a great mass. His apparel was plain, being a dark green -riding-suit trimmed with silver lace, and he wore riding-boots of a -handsome shape, while by his side he carried a small sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is Pomfret Manor, sir," I replied, noticing all these things. "May -I ask what is your will?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come, madam," he said, "first with the desire to renew a friendship -with one for whom I cherish the warmest recollections; ay! for one who -was my friend when I had scarce another, or only one other, in the -world; and secondly, to pay my respects to Mr. Nicholas Bampfyld, to -whom my family owe a debt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," I said, "whatever your debt may be to Mr. Bampfyld it can never -be paid now. My father has been dead these three years."</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked surprised, and then said, "Dead! Madam, I grieve to hear it. -I had hoped to see him. And Mr. Kinchella, the friend I seek, he, I -hope and trust, is well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is very well," I answered, "and is now in my house with my friend, -Miss Mills, to whom he is under engagement to be shortly married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be married," he said, with a smile, tho' a grave one; "to be -married! This is indeed good news. He should make a worthy husband if -ever man did."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he had been speaking there had come across my mind a sudden -thought--a wonderment! And--why, I have never known even to this -day!--I fell a-trembling at that wonderment as to whom he should be. -Was he, I asked myself,--he--was he----?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," I said, "you shall be brought to Mr. Kinchella. What name shall -be announced to him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am called Lord St. Amande," he said quietly, while it seemed to me -that he sighed as he spake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Called Lord St. Amande," I repeated in my surprise. "Lord Gerald St. -Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">Once again he smiled, saying, "Not Lord Gerald St. Amande, though my -name is Gerald. But I perceive Mr. Kinchella has been talking to you -about me. Perhaps telling you my history. Well!" to himself, "heaven -knows it has been common talk enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">I think--looking back as I do now to those far-off years and to that -happy, sunny day when first he came among us--that, in my heart, there -was some little disappointment at seeing him whom we had pitied so -looking thus prosperous. For although we knew that his great relative, -the Marquis, had espoused his cause and taken him by the hand, it was -ever as the poor outcast youth that we had thought of him. Yes, as an -outcast roaming the streets of Dublin, or as a poor wandering sailor -tossed on stormy seas, our hearts had gone out to him--and now, to see -him standing before me, bravely apparelled and looking, indeed, as I -thought, an English lord should look (for I had never before seen -one), caused me, as I say, a disappointment. It may be that it did so -because it seemed as though our pity was not needed. But, even as this -passed through my mind, I reflected that it was no true Virginian -hospitality to let him stand there holding his horse's bridle and -waiting to see what welcome he might expect, so, calling to the negro -gardener who was busy amongst the vines to take his steed, I bade him -follow me. As we went to the great steps of the porch I laughed with -joy at thinking what a pleasant surprise this would be for his friend, -and felt glad, I knew not why, that it had fallen to my lot to be the -first to see him and to bring those two together; therefore I said to -him:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not have you announced, but, if it pleases you, will bring you -straight into the saloon. It will be good to see Mr. Kinchella's -pleasure when you stand before him. It was but recently he wondered if -he should ever see you again, and now you are here close to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do with me as you will," he said, "and I thank you for doing so -much."</p> - -<p class="normal">So we went up the steps together, when, drawing him behind the blue -tatula bush that was now coming into flower with the warm spring, I -bade him look within and he should see his friend. Seated by the -harpsichord he saw him, his sweetheart sitting by his side, and he -looking brave and happy, and dressed in his black silk coat and scarf.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should scarce have known him," whispered my lord, "he has changed -so. His pallor is gone--it may be love has made him rosy--and he is -fuller and plumper. It seems a crying shame to disturb him when he has -so sweet a companion."</p> - -<p class="normal">I laughed and said, "You will be easily absolved. To see you again is -always his most earnest desire, while, for Mary, you are a hero of -romance of whom she dreams often."</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked at me from behind the bush, so that I thought he was -wondering if it was to Mary alone such dreams came; and then, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam, I fear I shall be made vain here," he begged me to permit him -to enter and greet his friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">That greeting it was good to see. Mr. Kinchella gazed for a moment at -the stranger entering so abruptly and then, springing to his feet, -exclaimed, "Gerald! Gerald!" and folded him in his arms, while Mary, -who had also risen hastily, repeated him, crying, "'Gerald!' Is this -indeed Lord St. Amande?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear lad, dear heart!" said Mr. Kinchella, who, after his embrace, -held the other at arm's length so as to survey him. "It is indeed you! -And how you are grown; a man and a handsome one. But how you came here -passes my understanding. Yet how I rejoice. How I do rejoice. Oh! -Gerald! Gerald! this is a day of days." Then he went on, "Mistress -Bampfyld, I see already you know; this other lady is my future wife, -Miss Mills," whereon his lordship bowed with most stately grace while -Mary curtsied low.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But tell me, tell us," continued her lover, "what brings you here. We -knew not, I knew not where you were. The last heard of you was that -you had been impressed for the sea and had sailed under Sir Chaloner -Ogle, who had testified a kindly disposition to you. But to what part -of the world you had sailed, we did not know. Papers reach here but -fitfully, and, though a friend of mine does sometimes send me <i>The -London Journal</i>, owned by that sturdy writer, Mr. Osborne, I have seen -nothing that told me of your fleet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis not so far off now," said his lordship, with his grave smile, "I -being at the moment on leave from it. I have adopted the calling of a -sailor--what use to haunt the streets of London idly waiting until the -House of Lords shall do me justice, if ever?"---there was a bitterness -in his tone as he spake that we all well understood--"and I am now -master's-mate in the <i>Namur</i>, with promise of a lieutenancy from Sir -Chaloner. As for the fleet itself, a portion of it is at Halifax and a -portion off Boston, while the <i>Namur</i> is at the mouth of the James -River waiting to capture some of the pirates that still haunt the -spot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have a long leave, I hope, Lord St. Amande," I said, though I -knew that I blushed, as I did so. "You must not quit Mr. Kinchella for -some time, and, in Virginia, we love to show hospitality to our -friends or friends' friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">He bowed graciously to me and told me he was entitled to many days' -leave of absence, since he had had none in their long cruise, except -now and then a day or so ashore; and then Mary, whose vivacity I -always envied, asked him why the House of Lords behaved so ill to him -and did not put him in possession of his rights.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said she, "it would be the most idle affectation to pretend -that here, far away as we are from England, we do not take the deepest -interest in your affairs. Virginia has, and this portion of it -particularly, been so much mixed up with your family and so interested -in it by the fact of your friend, Mr. Kinchella, coming here, that it -seems as though we, too, had some concern in those affairs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The House of Lords in Ireland has done me justice," he replied, "as I -learnt but recently, since they had pronounced me to be what in very -truth I am, my father's son. In England the House will not yet, -however, decide that I am heir to the Marquis of Amesbury--though he -hesitates not to acknowledge me--and it may not do so for years. Yet -even my present title is disputed by my villainous uncle, Robert, who -now has another son by his second wife, whom he proclaims as heir. -For," addressing us all, "that the wretch, Roderick, is dead there can -be, I imagine, no doubt; and his father amongst others believes so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis thought so," we answered, while Mr. Kinchella added that many -enquiries had been made for, him, not only in Virginia but in other -colonies, and no word could be heard of him. "So that," he continued, -"there can be no further thought but that he is dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even so," said my lord, "'twere best. For a wretch such as he death -alone is fitting. And, madam, from the Marquis I have heard by letter -of all the villainies he committed here, and, as one of his blood and -race, I now tender you my apologies for his sins and wickedness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, sir," I cried out with emotion, "I pray you do not so. He is gone -and I have forgotten him; since he must surely be dead I have also -forgiven him. I beg of you not to sully your fair fame by associating -your name with his, nor your honour by deeming yourself accountable -for his misdeeds."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon, as I spake, his lordship, taking my hand in his, raised it to -his lips and said he thanked me for my gracious goodness.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h4> - -<h5>THE RED MAN</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"How easily," said Lord St. Amande to me one summer night, two months -later, as we sat upon the porch outside the saloon, "how easily may -one be inspired with the gift of prophecy! Who, looking in at those -two and knowing their characters, could not predict their future?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He spake of Mr. Kinchella and Mary who were within, she sitting at the -spinet while he, bending over her, was humming the air of a song he -had lately written preparatory to her singing it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One can see," went on my lord, "all that that future shall be. They -have told their love to one another, soon that love will blossom into -marriage, even as I have seen your daturas and your roses blossom -forth since first I came amongst you--that marriage will bring -happiness of days and years to them, in which in honour and peaceful -joys they will go on until life's close. Happy, happy pair--happy -Kinchella to love and be beloved, to love and dare to tell his love."</p> - -<p class="normal">And my lord sighed as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All men may tell their love, surely," I said. "Why should they not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All men may not tell their love, Mistress Joice," he replied; "all -men may not ask for love in return. Over some men's lives there is so -deep a shadow that it precludes them from asking any woman to share -their lot--sometimes it is best that those men go through life alone, -unloved and with no other's lot bound up with theirs. But, hark, she -is going to sing that song he wrote for her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the warm air Mary's voice arose as he stood by her; through -the quiet of the night when nought was heard but the distant barking -of the dogs, which were strangely restless this evening, and nought -seen but the fireflies, she sang his little song:</p> -<div style="margin-left:10%"> -<p style="text-indent:-12px; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px"> -"If we should part--some day of days<br> -We might stand face to face again,<br> -And, dear, my eyes I scarce could raise<br> -To yours without a bitter pain.<br> -For memory then must backward turn<br> -To all the love that went before,<br> -While thoughts our hearts would sear and burn<br> -Making our meeting still more sore.</p> -<p style="margin-left:13%; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px">So shall we part? Ah. No, Love, no.<br> -Or shall we stay and still be true,<br> -Shall one remain--the other go,<br> -Or shall I still rest close to you?</p> -<br> -<p style="text-indent:-12px; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px"> -"If we should part--could I rejoice<br> -If by some chance I saw your face?<br> -Or if you, too, should hear my voice<br> -Cold and without one plea for grace.<br> -Such as in days agone I sought<br> -Craving one whispered word from you;<br> -Would not your heart with grief be fraught<br> -Recalling all the love we slew.</p> -<p style="margin-left:13%; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px">So shall we part? Ah. No, Love, no.<br> -Or shall we stay and still be true,<br> -Shall one remain--the other go,<br> -Or shall I still rest close to you?</p> -<br> -<p style="text-indent:-12px; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px"> -"Ah! best it is we never part,<br> -Better by far that we keep true,<br> -Clasp hand to hand, bind heart to heart,<br> -As in the past we used to do.<br> -So murmur, sweet, the words once more,<br> -Breathe them to me again, again,<br> -Whisper you love me as before,<br> -Proclaim Love's victory over pain.</p> -<p style="margin-left:13%; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px">And we'll not part. Ah. No, Love, no.<br> -'Tis best to stay for ever true.<br> -Since you remain, I cannot go,<br> -But ever must rest close to you."</p> - -</div> -<p class="normal">Her voice ceased and we could see her fond face turned up to his and -observe the look of love in her dark eyes. And my lord, sitting in the -deep chair which had been my father's in other days, murmured to -himself, "'If we should part! If we should part!' Ah, well! they need -never part. Never, never."</p> - -<p class="normal">I know not why, that evening, all our thoughts and talk had been upon -that silly theme, Love. It had begun at supper--which, in Virginia, we -generally took at seven in the evening--and had been continued -afterwards in the garden and on the porch, and came, I think, from the -fact that Lord St. Amande and Mr. Kinchella had that day been to see a -ship which had come from England laden with furniture. His lordship -lived with Mr. Kinchella in his minister's house in the village, and, -although he generally spent his days with many of the other gentry -dwelling around, amongst whom he was very welcome, he could sometimes -induce his friend to give up one day to him when they would go off -together for rides and walks, as they had done on this occasion when -they had ridden to Norfolk. Their evenings they spent almost -invariably at Pomfret Manor, as they were doing on this night. But, as -I say, at supper this evening there had been much talk of what Mr. -Kinchella had purchased from the trader for beautifying his house, -such as a beautiful Smyrna carpet, some tapestry hangings, chimney -glasses and sconces, a stone-grate and some walnut-tree chairs and -East Indian screens, all of which were to be shown to us when they -arrived by the waggon and were placed in his home. For their -marriage-day was drawing near now, and was, indeed, settled for the -beginning of September.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So that," said his lordship, "when that time arrives, Mistress -Joice," as he had come to call me, "must be left all alone in her -great house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis her own fault," exclaimed Mary; "many are the excellent offers -she has had, yet she will take none. Her cousin Gregory has over and -over again told her she should wed with him, their interests being -similar and their estates adjoining, and two of the Pringles have -asked her for wife. But, although in Virginia a maiden who is not -married by twenty is deemed to have passed her day, she will not look -at them. Oh! 'tis a shame. A Shame."</p> - -<p class="normal">I had blushed at all this and reproved Mary for telling my lord my -secrets; but now, on the porch, he referred to the subject again and -asked why none of these gentlemen found favour in my eyes. "Only," I -replied, "because in my heart there is no love for them. Surely no -girl should wed with one she cannot love?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis true," he answered, gravely, as he always spake; "'tis true. And -the day will come when you will love someone. It must needs come."</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas! I wonder that he did not know that already it had come. I should -have thought, indeed, did often think, that I had betrayed myself and -shown him that the love he spoke of had grown up in my heart for him. -He must have seen that which I could not hide, try as I would; my -eager looking for his coming in those soft summer evenings, my great -joy in his company, my sympathy with him in all that he had known and -suffered, and my tell-tale blushes whenever his eyes fell on me. Yet -if he knew he gave no sign of knowing, and, although he ever sought my -side and passed the hours with me, as those others passed theirs -together, he said no word.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, as we sat there on the porch silent though, sometimes, our -eyes would meet in the glow of the lamp from within, there fell upon -the silence of the night the clatter of a horse's hoofs up the road, -of a horse coming on at a great pace as though ridden by one who -spurred it to its best efforts and sought its greater speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who can ride here at such a pace to-night?" I said, as still the -clatter drew nearer and we heard the horse turn off from the road into -our plantations, and so into the stables at the back, while a moment -later a voice was heard demanding to see Mistress Bampfyld.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That voice!" exclaimed Lord St. Amande, springing from his chair and -reaching for his sword, which stood in a corner of the balcony. "That -voice! Though I have not heard it for years I should know it in a -thousand. 'Tis the villain, O'Rourke. Heaven hath delivered him into -my hands at last. Now will I have a full revenge on him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh sir," I said, as he drew his blade, "Oh! sir, oh! my lord, take no -revenge on him here, I beseech you. Stain not this house with his -blood. No life has ever yet been taken in it since it was brought -over. And, oh! remember, he came here before and was well received and -hospitably treated--he cannot know that you should also have found -your way here--he may well expect to receive the same treatment, the -same hospitality again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be as you command in your house," my lord replied, "yet he -shall not escape me, and, when he leaves this place, his punishment -shall be well assured." Then he called softly to Kinchella, and, in a -few hurried words, told him of who was without. But, ere the latter -could express his astonishment--as, indeed, it was astonishing that -these three should now be come together!--we heard O'Rourke's voice -exclaiming:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lead me to her at once, I say. There is no moment to be lost. They -may be here at any moment of the night. I have seen them, nay, barely -escaped from them; they are on their way--hundreds of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Great God!" exclaimed Mary, who had now come forth with her lover and -heard his words, "'tis the Indians he speaks of. It can be no others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed it must be," I answered. "Heaven grant that the village is -well prepared. For ourselves we must take immediate steps. We must -apprise the overseers below and bid them arm the servants and -convicts--they will fight for us against the Indians, hate us though -they may."</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," said my lord, who was very cool, "let us hear the ruffian -himself, the gallant 'captain.' But, since our presence might somewhat -disturb his narrative, let him not see us yet, Kinchella," and as he -spake he drew his friend back behind the shutters of the windows while -we two went into the saloon.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the adventurer came into the apartment once again, though not -as he had come before, his manner being very flustered and uneasy, his -face covered with perspiration from hard riding on a summer night, and -with his wig gone. While, without stopping for any salutation he, on -seeing me, began at once:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam, I have ridden hot haste to apprise you of a terrible fact -which has come to my knowledge, and to offer you, if you will have -them, my services. The Indians are out, madam; they are coming this -way; I have seen them. Heavens and earth! 'twas an awful sight to -observe the painted devils creeping through the woods, ay! and a thing -to freeze one's blood, even on such a night as this, to hear them yell -as they saw me. But, fortunately, they are not mounted, and thus I -out-distanced their arrows and musket balls which they sent after me. -And therefore am I here to warn you, and, since I know you have no men -about but your bond-servants and negroes, to help you if I may."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mistake, sir," said his lordship, quietly, coming forward into -the room with his drawn sword glistening in his hand, while behind him -stepped Mr. Kinchella. "You mistake, sir. There are others besides -yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">If a spectre had arisen before O'Rourke I know not if it could have -produced a more terrifying effect on him. For a moment he gazed at his -lordship, his lips parted and one hand raised to shield his eyes, as -though that way they might see clearer, while on his face there came -fresh drops of perspiration. And then he muttered hoarsely:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gerald St. Amande! Gerald here! Here! Here in Virginia!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said my lord, confronting him and with the point of his sword -lowered to the ground. "Ay! Gerald St. Amande, none other. You -execrable villain, we stand face to face at last as man to man, not -man to boy as it once was. And what villainy are you upon now in this -land? Answer me ere I slay you, as I intend to do ere long."</p> - -<p class="normal">For reply the other said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis so. We stand face to face at last. And the hour is yours. Your -sword is drawn, mine is in its sheath, my pistols are unloaded since I -fired them at the savages who pursued me. So be it. As well die by the -hand of him I injured as by the torture or the weapons of those -howling wolves who are on their way here----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment and then, loosening the cross-belt or scarf in -which were two great pistols, he flung it and them at his lordship's -feet, while at the same time he opened his waistcoat and tore aside -his muslin ruffles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Gerald St. Amande," he said, "as we stand face to face--'tis -your own word--do your worst. If I have been a villain I am at least -no coward. Do your worst."</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas indeed a strange scene--a fitting prelude to others still more -strange that were to follow. This man, this robber--who when he first -came among us we had deemed a courtly gentleman--stood there, tall and -erect, with no muscle quivering, nay, almost with a look of scorn upon -his face. In front of him, his sword still lowered, stood the other -whom he invited to be his executioner, his eyes no longer flashing -fire but dwelling upon his old enemy as though in wonder. Behind were -Mary and myself trembling with apprehension and Mr. Kinchella -whispering to his friend, "Gerald, forbear, forbear. Remember, -vengeance is to the Lord. He will repay."</p> - -<p class="normal">Though I felt no fear--since he had given me his promise--that his -lordship would do justice upon O'Rourke now, I also took heart to -whisper to him, "Is he beyond forgiveness, or at least so bad that he -may not go in peace?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But then Lord St. Amande spoke, saying: "That I should slay you now is -impossible. In this house your life is sacred--at her prayer," and he -pointed to me. "And, Since you are so bold a man, why such a villain? -O'Rourke, seeing you as you are to-night I do believe you might have -been worthy of better things. What had I, a helpless child, ever done -to you that you should have sought my death as you did?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had done nothing," the other replied, still standing in the same -position as when he last spoke, "but your father was always my enemy, -while your uncle was my friend. And I wanted money--when was there -ever the time I did not want it until now, when I have taken honest -service under Mr. Oglethorpe!--money for my sick daughter who is now -dead so that I care not if I die too. Your uncle gave it to me largely -to remove you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You swear that? If we should both live to reach England again would -you swear that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Both of us will never reach England again. I have said farewell to -that country and to the old world for ever. Yet--yet--if it might be -so done that I could keep my credit in Georgia and with my employers, -if I might end my days there under the garb of an honest man, I could -tell much that would help you to your rights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In return for your life being spared?" his lordship asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. I have not asked you to spare my life. Not in return for that, -but as some mitigation of my past. But, come, we trifle time," and he -picked up his cross-belt, and, adjusting it, drew forth his pistols -and primed and loaded them. "You have had your opportunity of slaying -me--that opportunity is past. Henceforth, except for the wrong I did -you, we are equal. Now, madam," he said, turning to me, "I am at your -disposal and ready to help you defend your house should it be -surrounded. You received me as a gentleman when I first came to -you";--he put a bitter emphasis on the word "gentleman";--"as a -gentleman I will do my best to repay your courtesy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you are a villain you are a bold one," said Lord St. Amande. "Ill -luck take you for not being a better man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be best," said O'Rourke to me, ignoring his lordship, "to go -call up the convicts, I think. There is one down there who, if he has -not forgotten me--the man Peter Buck of whom you spoke once--will -stand side by side with me whatever may happen. I knew him well in the -past. And then, madam, the windows should be shuttered----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By your leave, sir," Lord St. Amande exclaimed now, "I purpose to -undertake the defence of this house for----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But, ere he could finish his speech, from Mary there came the most -agonising scream while, with her eyes almost starting from her head -she shrunk back to Mr. Kinchella, and, pointing with her hand to the -lower part of the window, she shrieked, "Look! Look!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And following the direction she indicated we saw the cause of her -horror. For there, its almond-shaped eyelids half closed, though still -enough open to show the glittering eyes within, its face hideously -painted with white and red streaks, and its hair twisted into a knot -on the top of its head, we saw the form of a savage crouched down on -the porch and peering into the saloon.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment O'Rourke had seen it, too, as she screamed and pointed, -for, an instant later, there rang through the room the report of one -of the pistols he had loaded, and, when the smoke cleared away, we saw -the savage writhing on the porch while from his head gushed a great -stream of blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A fair hit," called out O'Rourke. "A fair hit. Od's bobs, my right -hand has not forgot its cunning after all."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h4> - -<h5>BESIEGED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Three hours later our house, barricaded in every way possible, was in -a state of siege and around it lay a band of Shawnee and Doeg Indians, -some hundreds strong.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nay, more, we knew from various signs that the whole village, or -hamlet, of Pomfret was in the same condition, and that, indeed, the -surrounding locality was attacked by the savages. From the church -below our plantations there came at intervals of a few moments a -flash, succeeded by a dull booming, which told us that the cannon that -had stood on its tower for many years was being fired, and thereby put -at last to the use for which it had been originally placed there. The -ping of bullets from flint-locks, and muskets, and fuzees, as well as -the more dead, hard sounds of musquetoons, were continuous also; the -yells of the Indians rose sometimes high above the cheers of the white -folks, and, to add to all, from every manor around was heard the -ringing of the great bells in their cupolas, while the burning of -beacons was to be seen. In our house we had taken every precaution -that time would allow us, and, to all the ideas which our ancestors in -the colonies had conceived for defending their homes and families -against attack, we had added some more modern ones. Thus the ancient -device of laying down on the lawns and paddock--across which the -Indians must pass when they left the plantations and copses in which, -at present, they remained--old doors with long nails thrust through -them was carried out, in the hopes of maiming some of our aggressors. -Broken glass was also plentifully strewn about, while, indoors, water -was being boiled and kept to boiling heat, so as to be ready to empty -on them if they approached us. Then, too, we had rapidly erected -stockades and palisadoes which must check any onward rush; the -mastiffs which had replaced those poor beasts that had been poisoned -were brought up to the house by the bondsmen, whose duty it was to -attend to them. The convicts and bondsmen themselves were now all -aroused, and every door, shutter, and window was fast closed, so that -the heat inside on this July night was scarcely to be endured.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was inside the house that the greatest resistance--which, if it -came to that, must be the last--would have to be made; and the saloon, -as being the biggest apartment in the manor, as well as because it had -windows looking on to both the back and the front of the house, was -selected as our principal point of defence; and here we four--Lord St. -Amande, Mr. Kinchella, Mary and myself--were assembled. Upstairs, in -every room, were told off certain of the white servants, most of the -blacks having hidden in the cellars where they shrieked and howled -dreadfully; so that, if the enemy did force an entrance, they must -undoubtedly soon be discovered; while the rest had run away. Of these -white servants, Buck, the man who had been a highwayman, had command, -with, under him, Lamb, the brother of my maid. And certainly, judging -from the sounds we heard above, these men seemed to have thrown -themselves into work of this nature with far more ardour than they -ever did into their duties in the fields, for we could hear them -laughing and talking, and even singing at such a dreadful time as -this. "Ha, ha," we heard Buck roar.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha! This is indeed work fit for a gentleman to do; as good, i' -faith, as a canter across Bagshot or Hounslow Heath, with the coach -coming up well laden. Look now, look, Lamb, lad; look. Do'st see that -red devil crawling up from out the plantation; at him, aim low and -steady. So-so, wait till he cometh into the moonlight. Ha! now, -steady, let go." Then there was a ping heard, a yell from outside, and -next, above that, the voice of Buck again. "Fair! Fairly hit. Look how -he kicks. So did I once shoot one of the Bow Street catchers who -thought to take me at Fulham. Load, lad, load, though the next shot is -mine," whereon the desperado fell to singing:</p> -<br> -<p style="margin-left:15%; text-indent:-5%; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px"> -Oh, three jolly rogues, three jolly rogues,<br> -Three jolly rogues are we</p> -<p style="margin-left:15%; text-indent:-5%; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px">As ever did swing in a hempen string<br> -Under the gallow's tree.</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In the saloon where we were, we had laid out upon a table the arms and -ammunition we were using, or might have to use. My lord had no pistol -with him since he carried always his sword, but Mr. Kinchella -possessed one as, since the practice of carrying arm's had long since -become universal in the colonies, not even clergymen went now without -them--the Indians being no respecters of persons. Then there were my -pistol and Mary's, which Gregory and my father had taught us to use -and grow accustomed to, so that we could shoot a pear hanging on a -tree--though now our tremblings and excitement were so great that -'twas doubtful if we could hit a man's body; and, for the rest, we had -gathered together all the firearms in the house. To wit, there were my -father's birding pieces as well as muskets for large balls, several -blunderbusses and musquetoons, and some brass horse-pistols. Yet, as -we asked each other, of what avail would these or, indeed, any defence -be which we could make if once the Indians advanced to our doors in -large numbers.</p> - -<p class="normal">Outside--the place he had selected, leaving Lord St. Amande and Mr. -Kinchella to be our immediate bodyguard--was O'Rourke in command of -the overseers (who supposed him to be either a friend of the family or -of one of the two gentlemen) and of some of the other bondsmen, and he -was indefatigable in his exertions. He and they kept up a continual -fire on the foe from their positions behind trees or under the porch, -or from the stables in the rear, while, horrible to relate, as each -shot was seen to be successful it was greeted by oaths of delight and -dreadful cries; and, besides their shooting, they had also laid mines -of gunpowder which would be exploded when the Indians advanced. -Indeed, as Lord St. Amande remarked as he noticed this through the -light-holes of the shutters, or went out himself to assist the others -from time to time, whatever O'Rourke's past villainies had been he was -this night going far towards effacing them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fellow," he said, coming back to us after one of these visits -outside, when I nearly fainted at seeing blood trickling down his -forehead--he having been grazed by a bullet--"the fellow spoke truly -when he said he was no coward at least. He exposes his burly body -everywhere fearlessly, though these savages have learned to use their -weapons with marvellous precision and scarcely miss a shot. But just -now he caught one of them creeping through the grass to get nearer us, -and, wrenching his tomahawk from him, beat out his brains."</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile the night grew late, and I, who had heard so many stories of -how the Indians pursued their attack, though, heaven be praised, this -was the first experience I had ever had of so dreadful a thing, knew -very well that, if they meant to besiege the house itself, the time -must now be drawing nigh. At this period of the year it was full -daylight by four o'clock, when, if they were not first driven off and -routed, the Indians would withdraw into the woods, and there -sheltering themselves renew their attack at nightfall. But as to -driving them off, it was, we deemed, not to be hope for. Outside -assistance we could not expect. The booming of the church-roof cannon -that still went on, the ringing of bells from neighbouring plantations -with--worst of all! the lurid light in the sky that told of some other -manor, or perhaps village, in flames, forbade us to think that. So we -had none to depend on but ourselves--a handful of brave men and a -number of almost useless, timorous women. And thus, knowing what must -come, we waited for the worst.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Promise me," I whispered to my lord at this moment, "promise me that, -as the first Indian crosses the threshold and if all hope is gone, you -will never leave me, or that, if you must do so, you will slay me -first. To fall into their hands would be more bitter than death or the -grave itself." And unwittingly, for I was sore distraught, I laid my -hand upon his arm and gazed up into his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">His eyes, glancing down, met mine as he said, "Joice, my dear, I shall -never leave you now. Oh! sweetheart, in this hour of peril I may tell -you what I might never have told you else, being smirched and -blemished from my birth as I am. My dear, my sweet, I do love you so -that never will I leave you if it rests with me, and if you die then -will I die too."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which, drawing me to him, he folded me in his arms and kissed me -again and again, and stroked my hair and whispered, "My pretty Joice, -I have loved you always; aye, from the very first time when I saw your -golden head bending over your flowers in the garden."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus in this black hour our love was told, and he whom I have called -"my lord" was so in very truth. Yet how dreadful was it to reflect, -how dreadful now to look back upon even after long years, that this -love, which surely should have been whispered in some soft tranquil -hour, was told amid such surroundings. Outside was a host of savages -thirsting for our blood, and, in the case of the women, worse than -their blood; while our defenders, with but two exceptions, were all -men who had been malefactors punished by their country's laws. Yet it -cannot but be acknowledged that these men, sinners as they had been, -were as brave as lions in our cause, and, had they been the greatest -Christian heroes that ever lived, could not have striven more manfully -against great odds. From Peter Buck upstairs still came the roars of -encouragement to those whom he commanded, mixed with his ribald and -profane snatches of verse, while, without, O'Rourke's voice was heard -also encouraging and animating those who fought by his side. As for my -lover, not even our new pledged vows could keep him by me; ever and -again he plunged forth into the night, coming back sometimes with his -sword dripping with blood, sometimes with a smoking pistol with which -he had gone forth in his hand, and once bearing in his hand--oh! -horror of horrors!--an Indian's head-band made of human fingers and -toes, which he had wrenched away from a savage he had slain. As for -Mr. Kinchella, never have I seen mortal man look more calm or more -firm than he, as, sometimes supporting Mary with loving words, -sometimes with kisses, he bade her trust in God that all might yet be -well.</p> - -<p class="normal">So we waited for the end that was to come.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bravo! bravo!" roared Buck from upstairs, evidently in praise of some -shot that had just been fired. "Bravo, our battalion! Faith! if our -lily mistress gives us not our freedom after this she's not the lass I -take her for. Stop those women squealing in there," he continued, -calling into another room where some of the white servant-women were -huddled together; "one would think the devil or the Indians were -amongst them already, or that the former had got them before their -time. And Lamb, my lad, go down and ask the gentlefolks for some drink -for us; 'tis as hot as Tyburn on a bright summer morning, and my -thirst as great as that of any gallant gentleman riding there in the -cart."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lamb came down a moment afterwards, a smart, bright-looking young -man--though now begrimed with much burnt powder--and was sent back -with a great jar of rum and water, while, ere he went, I whispered to -him:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell Buck that I have heard his words about your freedom, and that -'tis granted. From to-night all who have defended my house are free, -and shall have their note of discharge and can remain and work for me -for a wage, or go where they list."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, lady," said the young man. "I'll tell him," with which he -darted out and up the stairs with the drink, and a moment afterwards -we heard Buck crying for a cheer for Mistress Joice.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now I heard my lord's voice call out, "Stand by to fire the train. -Wait; don't hurry. Stop until they pass the palisadoes. See, now. -Now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as there came a fearful glare from outside, accompanied by a -dull concussion or noise like the roaring of flames up a great -chimney, and by horrid screams of agony, we knew that the powder on -the lawn was fired and that many of the foe had been blown to pieces -or dreadfully injured.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, above all this, there pealed loud the horrid yell of all the -Shawnee warriors and their allies, the Doegs--and the yell was nearer -now than it had hitherto been. 'Twas answered, however, by a ringing -British cheer from those outside and those in the rooms above, while -still Buck was heard inspiring the latter to take cool aim and shoot -slow.</p> - -<p class="normal">But to defend the house from the outside was now no longer possible; -our gallant little band was driven back, and so my lord, O'Rourke, and -the overseers came all in, and rapidly the last door that had been -left open was barred tight, every shutter closed even more fast than -before, every loophole secured except those from which we could shoot -at the oncoming enemy. And against windows and doors the heavy -furniture was piled, both with a view to resist their being forced -open and to stop any bullets that might come through, while the order -was sent upstairs to have the boiling water ready to empty on the -heads of the besiegers as they neared the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Mary and me, who had never seen aught of bloodshed before, and -whose lives had been so peaceful and calm in this my old home, you may -feel sure that the dreadful scenes we were passing through were most -terrifying and appalling. For, not to calculate the ruin to my house -and its surroundings, to my trodden-down plantations and devastated -furniture, who could tell what would be the result of the night's -work? That the manor would be burnt to the ground was the least to be -expected, and what might follow was too awful to consider. That all -the men in the house would be put to death, or taken away to be -tortured, was a certainty, we thought, once the Indians had gained the -victory and forced an entrance. As to the women's fate, that was not -to be dwelt upon. Happily, we had our lovers to slay us at the last -moment, or, even should they themselves be slain, and so fail us, -there were the weapons to our hands with which to bring about our -doom, if necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">O'Rourke was wounded badly already, his arm being now roughly -bandaged. Yet, beyond begging for some drink, he desisted not in his -efforts but instantly took up his place in the hall, on which an -attack might at once be anticipated and from which he could easily -reach us should he be required in the saloon. And with him went the -overseers. From above, we knew that Buck and his party were still -firing on the advancing foe--who were now on the lawn and close on the -porch--and once he called out to us that the "niggers" were bringing -up small trees and brushwood, evidently with the intention of firing -the house. But that which warned us more surely than all that our -bitterest hour was at hand, was the sound we heard at the shutters of -the saloon window.</p> - -<p class="normal">That sound was the sharp clicking noise made by the tomahawks of the -Indians on the wood of those shutters and on the iron bars.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were cutting away the last defence between us and them!</p> - -<p class="normal">My lord advanced to the table on which were all the pistols primed -and loaded--for Mary and I had attended to each one as it had been -emptied--and bade Kinchella stand behind him. Then he drew me to him, -and folded me once more in his arms and kissed me, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dearest one, my heart's only love, here we stand together for, -perhaps, the last time. If I can shield you with my life I will, if I -should lose that life I pray God to bless you ever. Now, Kinchella," -turning to him, "stand you also by my side as you once stood by it -when I wanted a friend badly enough, God He knows; and, as you -befriended me in those days, so will I befriend you now if 'tis in my -power. Kiss your girl, Kinchella, as I have kissed mine, and then -forget for the time being that you are a clergyman and remember -nothing but that you are a man fighting for her you love."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, even as he spoke, still louder grew the clicking of the tomahawks -outside.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h4> - -<h5>AT BAY</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">My lord's pistol was raised, ready. The first hand or arm that -appeared through the shutters would be shattered as it came. Yet, even -as he stood there waiting to see the woodwork forced in, he altered -his tactics somewhat. The table was too full in front of the windows, -too much exposed to any missile that might be directed into the room. -It would be better, he said, at the side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, Kinchella," he exclaimed as thus they altered it, "keep you on -one side the window while I take the other. With a pistol in each hand -you can shoot them one by one, while I, on this, can do the same; or, -better still, we can fire alternately. Unless they can force in the -whole front and enter in a mass, we should be able to hold the place -for hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as he spoke, we heard the cracking and splintering of wood, we -saw a strip of the massive pine-wood shutters forced in and a huge red -hand and tattooed arm protruded through the opening, while the former, -seizing the shutter, tore at it to wrench it apart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hist!" said my lover, making a sign to the other to do nothing, "the -first blood is mine," and, grasping his sword, he swung it over his -head and, a moment later, the hand and forearm were lying at our feet. -But no shriek from outside the window was heard, only, in the place of -the bleeding stump that had been there, there came four large fingers -of another hand that endeavoured to wrench away the wood as the other -had done; fingers that met the same fate. Then for a moment there was -silence outside--silence that was broken by renewed hammering from the -tomahawks on all parts of the shutters.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now there came a fearful howl from beyond the porch which was only -explained to us by hearing the cry of Buck upstairs. "Good! Good! Give -'em another bath. 'Twill do 'em good. Their dirty skins h'aint been -washed for a long while. Bring more hot water along quick, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Unfortunately for us, those who were endeavouring to force their entry -into the room where we stood, were sheltered from the boiling water by -the roof of the porch (a solid stone one which served also as a -balcony to the rooms above) as also were those attacking the main -front entrance.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the back of the house, however, on which a party of Indians were -engaged in endeavouring to also force their way in, there was no -porch, nor was there any to the sides of the building; and it was from -these that we had heard the screams as the contents of Buck's great -barrels had reached them.</p> - -<p class="normal">It took, however, but little time for the water to become exhausted, -and then we knew that the conflict must resolve itself into a -hand-to-hand one. We might keep the savages at bay for some time, it -was true, so long as they could enter the house by one door only, but -how long, we had to ask ourselves, could such as that be the case? In -a short time one of the windows of the saloon must go, or one of the -great doors, of which there were two, or one of the side doors; and -then the Indians would pour through the opening thus made and the -massacre begin. Even with those men under O'Rourke and Buck we were -not twenty-five strong, the cowardly negroes who were left being, as I -have said, all huddled together in the vaults and cellars below, where -they had locked themselves in--so that, since there must be two or -three hundred Indians outside at least, the resistance could not -continue long.</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas! as it was, our front window giving on to the porch already -showed signs of yielding to the attack from without, though now there -was a fresh barricade offered to the incoming foe by a heap of their -own slain who lay outside and also partly within the room. Already, my -lord had shot several on the outside, taking deadly aim as their -hideous faces appeared at the orifice, but the breach had widened so -that two or three had crawled into the room to be, however, despatched -at once by him or Mr. Kinchella.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, since, of all else, this window showed to those outside that -it would yield more easily than any other spot, the attack was -entirely directed towards it; the Indians were thundering against what -remained of the iron-bound shutters with rams made of small trees that -they had uprooted, as well as cutting away the lighter woodwork with -their weapons.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Another half hour more," said my lord, "will see the end. God He -knows what it will be. Yet, dearest, since it is to come I am happy -that I shall die in your sweet company. But, oh! Joice, Joice, if we -might have lived how happy our future would have been."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Must we die?" I wailed, woman-like, "must we die? And now when our -love has not been told more than a few hours. Oh! Gerald."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We can hope," he said, "but that is all. And, sweetheart, best it is -to look things straight in the face." Then, even as he spoke, he fired -again at a horrid savage who had half forced his body through the -aperture--getting larger every moment--and added one more to the list -of slain.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now all the others were called for to come into the saloon and help in -the resistance there, where the attack was principally directed; which -call they instantly answered abandoning their previous posts. And, bad -man as I at last knew O'Rourke to have been, I could not but respect -him for what he had done on my behalf this night, nor could I but -mourn for his evident sufferings. His bandaged arm, being helpless, -hung by his side, his close cropped iron-grey hair was matted with -blood from a wound in his head, and his face which had once been so -purple was now as white as marble from his loss of blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! sir," I exclaimed, as I tried to still my shaking limbs as best I -might, while I raised my head from Mary's breast on which it had been -lying, she comforting me like an elder sister with soft words, "oh! -sir, my heart bleeds for you. You have been indeed a true hero -to-night in my cause, and I thank you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam," he said, speaking faintly, "I came here to do my best for you -because--because--well--well, because you and this other lady received -me as a gentleman; treatment that I have not been much accustomed to -since I was a boy; though I was one once. No matter. The end is at -hand, I imagine--ah! well hit, my lord, well hit, but it will avail us -nothing now--I am glad that Patrick O'Rourke is making a good one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hit he spoke of was one directed by Gerald at yet another Indian -who had just succeeded in crawling into the room as far as his head -and shoulders; after which Gerald himself came back, and, standing by -the others, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"All our partings have to be made now. See how they bulge that shutter -inwards. There will be a score of savages in the room in a moment! -Farewell, Joice, my darling; farewell, Miss Mills. Old friend," and he -put his hand lovingly on Kinchella's shoulder; "farewell. And for you, -O'Rourke," looking round at him, "well, tonight's work--especially -your night's work--wipes all the past out of my mind for ever. -O'Rourke," and he held out his hand, "let us part in peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">At first O'Rourke made no reply but stood regarding the other as -though dazed, and then raised his hand to his head, so that my lover -exclaimed, "You are badly hurt. Is that wound in your head worse than -it appears?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," O'Rourke answered, speaking slowly, though he kept his eye -ever fixed on the window, waiting for the inrush that was now at hand; -"but it seems to me that the end--my end--is near. I have had these -presentiments come over me often of late--it may be to-night, now in a -moment--God He knows! And when Gerald St. Amande holds out his hand in -forgiveness to me, it must be---- Ah, well, at least you shall see I -will die fighting--yes, die fighting"; and, as he spoke, he clasped -Gerald's hand in his and thanked God that he had lived to have it -extended to him. Then, once again, he asked his pardon for all the -evil he had wrought him.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now there came in Buck and Lamb and the other bondsmen and -convicts--though no longer either bondsmen or convict-servants if they -could live through this dreadful night--for they were useless upstairs -any longer. With them came the mastiffs who had replaced those -poisoned; fierce beasts, who seemed to scent the Indians they were -trained to fight and whose eyes glared savagely at the windows to -which they ran, while they stooped their great heads to the bodies of -the dead ones lying inside the sill and sniffed at their already fast -congealing blood.<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a> And the deep bays that they sent up, and which -rang through the beleaguered house, seemed for the moment to have had -its effect outside. For, during that moment, the yells of the foe -ceased and the rushes against the iron-bound shutters ceased also, but -only for a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" exclaimed Buck, catching some of O'Rourke's words, "die -fighting, my noble captain! Ay, so I should say; or rather, fight and -live. What! We have seen fighting in our day before," whereon he -winked at the other, "but never in so good a cause as this for our -gentle mistress. And if we do die fighting," he went on, as coolly as -though death was not within an ace of us all now, "why, dam'me, 'tis -better than the cart and a merry dance in the chains afterwards on a -breezy common. So cheer up, my noble, and let's at 'em. Ha, ha! here -they come!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, with a crash the shutters came in at last and, through -the open space they left in their fall, there swarmed the hideous foe, -while with a scream Mary and I flung ourselves into each other's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh! how shall I write down the sight we saw? Naked from their waists -upwards, their bodies painted and tattooed with rings and circles, -bars and hoops; their faces coloured partly vermilion, partly white -and partly black; their long coarse hair streaming behind them, their -hands brandishing tomahawks or grasping guns and pistols, which they -discharged into the room, they rushed in, while when they saw our -white faces their demoniacal howls and yells were awful to hear. Yet, -at first, all was not to succumb to them. Of those who first entered, -four were instantly torn to the ground by the mastiffs who seized each -a savage, and, having pulled them down, pinned them there as they -gored their throats. Also, of those who came on behind these, many -were shot or cut down ere they could leap over their prostrate -comrades' forms. My lord and Mr. Kinchella by a hasty arrangement made -with the others, fired only to the left of the window, Lamb and Buck -taking those who came in on the right side, while O'Rourke, his sword -flashing unceasingly through the smoke and the light of the room, -fought hand to hand with those Indians who passed between the shots of -the others, he being ably backed up by the remainder of the bondsmen -and convicts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Steady! steady!" called out my lord. "Easy. Not too fast. Ere long -there will be a barricade of their dead carcasses so that none can -leap over them. Joice, my darling, shelter yourself behind the spinet; -so, 'tis well. Miss Mills, how goes it with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give it to 'em, noble captain," roared Buck as, firing at a savage -who came near him, he brought him down, exclaiming, "fair between the -eyes. Fair." Then again, "At 'em, captain, at 'em, skin 'em alive; -lord! this beats the best fight we ever had with any of the Bow Street -crew; at 'em, lop 'em down, captain; ah, would you!" to an Indian who -had advanced near enough to aim a blow at him with his tomahawk which -would have brained him had it reached its mark, "would you!" and with -that he felled the other with the butt end of his gun. "Heavens," he -cried, "how I wish one of these redskins was the judge who sentenced -me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It had become a mêlée now, in which all were fighting hand to -hand--O'Rourke was down, lying prone, yet still grasping his sword; -Mr. Kinchella standing before me and Mary still kept off those who -endeavoured to seize us; my lord, Buck, and Lamb, side by side, fought -yet unharmed; and of the others some were slain, some wounded, and -some still able to render assistance.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, oh! dreadful sight! I saw the blood spurt from my beloved -one's forehead; I saw him reel and stagger, and, with a shriek, I -rushed forth and caught him in my arms as he fell; his blood dyeing my -white satin evening dress and mantua.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, mad with grief and frenzy, I cared no longer what the end of -this night's work might be. He whom I loved so fondly lay with his -head upon my breast, while I knew not whether he was yet dead or still -dying. My home was wrecked; all the light of my life was gone out, as -I deemed, for ever. Nothing mattered now--nothing; the sooner the -howling savages around me slew us all the better. So, through my -tears, I looked on at the scene of carnage, praying that some bullet -might crash through my brain or some tomahawk scatter my brains upon -the floor where I sat with him in my arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">What the end of this night's work might be! Alas, alas! the end was at -hand!</p> - -<p class="normal">The fighting had ceased at last. On our side there were no longer any -to continue it; on the Indians' side there was nothing to be done but -to bind and secure their prisoners. The ammunition had given out, -after which Buck and Lamb were soon made fast and their hands tied -behind them. Mr. Kinchella and the other men were treated in the same -way and now came our turn; the turn of the two unhappy women who had -fallen into the power of these human fiends. Yet, savages as they -were, they offered us, at present at least, no violence, while one who -had fought in the van ever since they had entered the saloon came -forward and, standing before Mary and me, said in good English (many -of the Shawnees and Doegs having learnt our language when they dwelt -in peace with the colonists, and retained it and taught it to their -descendants): "White women--children of those who drove us forth from -them when we would have remained their friends, children of those who -stole our lands under the guise of what they called fair barter and -traffic--the fortune of the night's fight has gone against you and you -are in our power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you intend to do with us?" I stammered, looking up at the -great Indian who towered above all others. "I, at least, and those of -my generation have never harmed you, yet now you have attacked my -house like this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is known to us, white woman," answered the chief, as I deemed him -to be, "that you, the English woman ruling here, have harmed none, -therefore you are unharmed now, you and this other. But it is the -order of our great medicine chief, whose works are more wonderful than -the works of any other man who dwells upon the earth, that you be kept -prisoners until he comes; both you and this other with the dark eyes -and skin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who," exclaimed Mary, her eyes flashing angrily at the superbly -handsome chief who stood before her, "who is your great medicine chief -of whom we know nothing, yet who knows us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He knows you as he knows everything that takes place from the rising -of the sun until its setting, and who he is you soon will learn. Even -now he comes from the destruction of other white men's houses like -unto yours, he comes to claim you as his squaws who shall abide with -him for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">I shrieked as he spoke, for I knew from tales and narratives told over -many a winter's fire in Virginia what was the fate of those women who -were borne away to be the squaws of these Indian chiefs; but, even as -I did so, we heard shouts without as though those savages who had not -entered the house were hailing some new arrival.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark, hark!" exclaimed the chief. "He comes--he comes to claim you at -last, as he has promised himself for many moons he would claim you. -Hark, it is the great medicine man himself."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX</a></h4> - -<h5>THE GREAT MEDICINE CHIEF</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Hark," the Indian said again, "the great medicine chief comes to -claim the white women."</p> - -<p class="normal">Since they had offered us no violence, nor indeed had they exerted any -towards their other prisoners after the fight was over and they were -bound, Mary and I had scarcely changed our position from the time the -fray ceased. I still sat on the floor with my darling's head upon my -breast, Mary stood by Kinchella, his bound hands clasped in hers, and -sometimes kissing him as, over and over again, I also kissed my lord's -dear lips while attempting to staunch the flow of blood from his head. -The other prisoners all bound together looked forth into the night, -waiting to see what the great personage whose arrival was now welcomed -might be like. On the floor O'Rourke still lay where he had fallen, -and I feared that surely he must be dead. Yet when I thought of him -and how bravely he had fought this night, I could not but hope, even -though plunged in my own misery, that much of his past wickedness -would be forgiven him in consequence of his repentance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The great medicine chief, eh?" said Buck to Lamb, not even troubling -to lower his voice for fear it should offend our captor or any other -of the Indians around us who might understand his words--and seeming -as cool and reckless now as though he were one of the victors instead -of the vanquished. "The great medicine chief, eh? I wonder what he's -like, though we shall see soon enough. Some mean mountebank I'll bet a -crown--if ever I get hold of one again--who finds hocus-pocussing -these red devils a good deal easier than fighting alongside of 'em. -Knows everything that happens on earth, does he? Ay! just as much as a -gipsy in a booth can tell when a gentleman of the road is going to be -hanged, or is able to prophecy that the mother of a dozen shall never -have a child. How they howl for him, though, rot 'em, if they had any -sense they'd see he had enough of his own to keep out of the way while -the bustle was going on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He comes. He comes," again exclaimed the chief, and, even in my -trouble, I could not but marvel much at seeing so powerful looking a -warrior prostrate himself with such great humility upon the floor, -while all the other Indians did the same.</p> - -<p class="normal">For now, escorted by several savages who marched in front of him, and -a like number behind him, this person strode into the room and stood -before us. His face was not visible, excepting only the eyes which -twinkled behind the light silken cloth he wore around it, but his form -presented the appearance of litheness and activity, and gave the idea -that, however wonderful his arts might be, he had at least acquired -them young, since he was undoubtedly not even yet arrived at middle -age. He was clad in a tight-fitting tunic of tanned deer skin, over -which fell the long Indian blanket with devices worked on it of skulls -and snakes as well as of a flaming sun and many stars, and his -leggings and moccasins were stained red. His head-dress was the -ordinary Indian cap, or coronet, into which was thrust a number of -eagles' feathers, while on his breast he bore, hanging on to a chain -of shells, a human hand dried and mummified so that the tips of the -finger-bones could be seen protruding through the shrivelled flesh, -and, equally dreadful sight, some <i>ears</i> strung together!</p> - -<p class="normal">Those twinkling eyes wandered round the wrecked saloon, taking in at -one glance, as it seemed to me, the dead forms of Indians and white -men, the broken furniture and the prostrate figures of the other -Indians who knelt before him; and then they fixed themselves on Mary -and me, while from behind the silken mask--for such indeed it -was--there came a cruel, gurgling laugh. And I, driven to desperation -by that sound, which augured even worse for me than what I had yet -endured, softly placed my dear one's head upon the floor and, leaving -him there, cast myself before the medicine chief and, at his knees and -with my hands uplifted, besought his mercy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" I cried between my sobs, "if you can speak my tongue, as so many -of your race are able to do, hear my prayer, I beseech you; the prayer -of a broken-hearted, ruined woman who has never injured you or yours -till driven to it in self-defence; a woman at whose people's hearths -you and yours have warmed yourselves and been welcome, at whose table -you and yours were once fed and treated well. Oh! what have I, a -defenceless girl, done that this my home should be sacked by your -warriors, my loved one slain? See, see! he who lies there was to -have been my husband--these brave men around me, living and dead, -would have done nought to you had you left us in peace. What, -what," I continued, "have I done that you come as a conqueror to my -house--what?----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He raised his hand as thus I knelt before him, and held it up as -though bidding me be silent; then, in a hollow, muffled voice, he -said, speaking low: "You are Joice Bampfyld. That alone is enough," -and again his cruel laugh grated on my ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that voice, muffled as it was, I sprang to my feet as did Mary, -while even Buck looked startled and Mr. Kinchella amazed, and Mary -exclaimed passionately:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>You! You!</i> It is you. And she has pleaded on her knees for mercy to -such a thing as you. Oh! the infamy of it, the infamy for such as she -is to plead to such, as you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The prostrate Indians raised their heads in astonishment at her words -of scorn--doubtless it was incredible to them that any mortal should -so dare to address their great medicine man and wonder-worker--while -he, with his glittering eyes fixed on his followers, bade them at once -begone and leave him alone with their captives. Alone, he said, so -that he might awe these women into submission. And they, obedient to -him, withdrew at his command, though still with the look of -astonishment on their faces that any should have ventured to so speak -to him and still live.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said when they had retired; and, unwrapping the silken folds -from his face so that in a moment, all painted and tattooed though he -was, that most unutterable villain, Roderick St. Amande, stood -revealed before us, "yes, it is I. Returned at last to Pomfret Manor -to repay in full all the treatment I received, and to give to all and -every one in the village of Pomfret a just requital of their kindness -in driving me forth, wounded and bleeding, to the savages who proved -more kind than they. God! if I had had my will the whole place should -have been put to slaughter long ago, and there should have been no -reprieve lasting for five years."</p> - -<p class="normal">I have said that the Indians who had captured us had left Mary and me -free and untouched, so that, with the exception that there was no -chance of escape, we were under no restraint. And now that freedom was -seized upon by Mary, who, becoming wrought upon by the fiendish -cruelty of this creature's words, seized up a pistol lying on the -spinet by her side and snapped it at him--but vainly, as, since its -last discharge, it had not been reloaded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You dog," she said as she did so, "you base dog. It can be but a -righteous act to slay such as you." But, when she found that the -weapon was harmless, she flung it to the floor with violence while she -exclaimed that even heaven seemed against us now.</p> - -<p class="normal">But to this Mr. Kinchella raised a protest, telling her that even in -the troubles which now surrounded us it was impossible for any -Christian to believe such a thing, and pointing out to her--with what -I have ever since thought was unconscious scorn--that, since heaven -had not seen fit even to desert one so evil as the creature before us, -it would be impossible for it to do so to those who, righteously and -God-fearingly, worshipped it and its ruler.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," said Roderick St. Amande, "who this fellow is, though by -his garb he is a minister; but amongst the tribe to which I now belong -the Christian minister, as he is termed, is ever regarded as the worst -of white men, and as the one, above all, who makes the best bargain -for robbing the native. The one who teaches him to drink deeper than -any other white man teaches him, and who has less respect for their -squaws' fidelity and their daughters' honour.<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a> So, good sir, when we -have safely conveyed you to our home in the mountains, I will promise -you that you will have full need of the intercession of that heaven of -which you speak ere you can escape torture and death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall doubtless have strength granted to endure both," the other -replied calmly. "And I will, at least, undertake one thing, which is -that no cowardice shall prompt me to embrace the life of a savage and -a heathen to save my skin."</p> - -<p class="normal">The villain scowled at him as he spoke these bitter words, but -answered him no more; then, glancing down at some of the prostrate -bodies lying at his feet, he exclaimed, "I trust all these carrion are -still alive. They will be wanted for the rejoicings. Let's see for -myself," while, kicking O'Rourke's body with his foot, he turned it -over until it was face upwards. Then, for a moment, even he seemed -appalled, recoiling from it--yet an instant afterwards bending down to -gaze into the features of the unhappy adventurer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" he exclaimed, "what, O'Rourke here? O'Rourke, the clumsy fool -who, when he should have shipped off my beggarly cousin shipped me in -his place? O'Rourke. O'Rourke! Oh! if he but lives, how I will repay -him for his folly. What a dainty dish he shall make for the torturers! -How his fat body shall feed the flames! For, even though his mistake -has made me a greater man than ever I could have been at home--ay, one -before whom these credulous red fools bow as to a god--there is much -suffering to be atoned for; the awful suffering of the passage in the -<i>Dove</i>; your father's insults, my dearest Joice, and his blows; and -also much else. But for that latter, you, my dear one, will repay me -when you are mine and mine alone, with no rival in my heart but our -haughty Mary, who shall be my dark love as you shall be my fair one."</p> - -<p class="normal">As the wretch spoke, however, there were two things happened that he -saw not, in spite of the all-seeing eyes with which he was credited by -the tribe he dwelt with. He did not see that, as he turned to insult -Mary and me, O'Rourke first opened his own eyes and gazed on him and -then raised his head to stare at him; he did not see that, from where -the window had been, the Indian chief heard all he said, and stared in -amazement and looked strangely at him as he spoke of the "credulous -red fools."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mary and Mr. Kinchella and I saw it all, as well as did Buck and -Lamb. Nay, we saw more; we saw the Indian's hand feel for the hilt of -his dagger and half draw it from his wampum belt, and then return it -to its place while he smoothed his features to the usual impenetrable -Indian calm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," went on Roderick St. Amande, as he drew near to my beloved -one, who still lay as I had placed him, "who is this spruce and -well-dressed gentleman who was to have been the husband of my Joice. -Some Virginian dandy, I presume, who, not good enough for England, is -yet a provincial magnate here. Ay, it must be so"--stooping down to -gaze into my lord's face--"it must be so, for I have seen those very -features when in a more boyish form. Possibly he is one of the young -Pringles, or Byrds, or Clibornes, whom I knew five years ago. Is't not -so, Joice, my beloved Joice, my future queen of squaws?"</p> - -<p class="normal">That he should not recognise Gerald for his own cousin, for the man -who held the rank he had once falsely said would some day be his, was -the first moment of happiness I had known through this dreadful night, -since the fact of his not so recognising him might, I thought, save my -lover from instant death, if he were not dead already. For, if that -villain could but guess who he really was, I did not doubt but that he -would sheath his knife in the other's heart, all helpless as he lay. -This being so, I answered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is a gentleman and, I fear, is dead. Is that not enough for you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, too much. I would not have one Virginian dead; yet, I would not -have one die so easily as he is dying now, for he is not at present -dead. No, no; the dead are no good to us when we return from a -successful attack such as this of Pomfret; it is the living we want; -the quick not the dead. For see, my Joice, and you, too, my black but -bonny Mary, the dead cannot feel! Their nerves and sinews have no -longer the power of suffering, their flesh is cold, their tongues -paralysed, so that they can neither shriek with pain nor cry for -mercy--but, with the living, how different it is! They can feel all -that is done upon them, they can feel limbs twisted off, and burnings, -and loppings off of--of--of, why, say of ears," and here he grinned so -demoniacally while he fingered the clusters of human ears that hung on -his own breast, that all of white blood in the room shuddered but -himself. "Yes, all these things they can feel. And, my sweethearts," -he went on, gloatingly over our horror and his own foul and devilish -picturings, "shall I tell you what the Indian tortures are, what you -will see--when you sit by my side, my best beloved of wives--done upon -these men here. On him," pointing to Mr. Kinchella, "and him," with -his finger directed to my lord, "and this old blunderer," indicating -O'Rourke, "and these scum and rakings of the London gutters?" sweeping -his arm round so as to denominate all the convicts and bondsmen who -had fought so well for us this night, though without avail. "Shall I -tell you that? 'Twill be pretty hearing."</p> - -<p class="normal">For myself I could but sob and moan and say, "No, no. Tell us no more! -Spare them, oh, spare them!" But Mary, whose spirit was of so much -firmer mould than mine, and who was no more cowed by him than was Buck -himself--who, indeed, had interrupted his remarks with many -contemptuous and disdainful snorts and "pishes" and "pahs" and with, -once, a scornful laugh--answered him in very different fashion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell us nothing, you murderous, cowardly wolf," she said, while she -extended her hand defiantly at him as though she forbade him to dare -to speak again, "tell us nothing, since we should not believe you. We -know--God help us! we all in Virginia know--that the Indian exacts a -fearful reckoning from all who have once wronged him, but we know, -too, that that exactment is made upon the actual persons who have done -the wrong, and not on those who have never raised hand against him, as -none in this house to-night have done except in their own defence. As -for you, you cowardly, crawling dog, who think you can egg on the -Indians to gratify your petty spite and cruelty, what, what, think -you, will they do for the gratification of your thirst for innocent -blood when I, tell them who and what their great wonderworking, -miracle-making medicine chief is?" and I saw her dark eyes steal into -the obscurity of the ruined window frame to observe if the chief out -there heard her words. But he only drew a little more in the shadow as -she did so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence, woman," said Roderick St. Amande, advancing threateningly -towards her. "Silence, I say, or it shall be the worse for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence," she repeated, "silence! And why? So as to shield you from -their wrath if they should know who you are? Silence! Nay, I tell you -Roderick St. Amande, that when you have taken us away to wherever you -herd now, I will speak out loudly and tell them all. All, all, -as to what their great medicine man--their great <i>impostor</i> is. A -wonder-worker, a magician!" And she laughed long and bitterly as she -spoke, so that his face became so distorted with anger that I feared -he would rush at her and slay her. Yet, as she did so, and still spake -further, I saw the Indian chief's eyes steal round the corner while he -listened to her every word. "A wonder-worker! a magician!" she went -on. "Ay! a pretty one forsooth. A magician who could not save his ear -from a righteous vengeance; a bond-slave to an English colonist; a -poor, pitiful drunkard! What a thing for a red man who cannot live in -slavery, and who hates in his heart the fire-water he has learnt to -drink, to worship! A magician who knows all. Ha! ha! A wonder-worker! -who stole from out his owner's bookshelves a 'British Merlin' and a -calendar because, perhaps, he knew the credulous creatures with whom -he would ere long dwell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed Buck, "and a book of how to do tricks with cards from -me, with many recipes for palming and counterfeiting. A magician, ha! -ha! ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And of all that was said the Indian chief had heard every word.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h4> - -<h5>IN CAPTIVITY</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Although the villain knew not that the chief--whose name I learnt -hereafter was Anuza, signifying in the Shawnee and Doeg tongue, the -Bear--had heard all, his rage was terrible. He gesticulated so before -Mary that again I feared for her, he struck at Buck, calling him thief -and other opprobrious names, and he kicked at O'Rourke's body as -though he would kick in his ribs. Then, swearing and vowing that if -Mary spoke before his followers--for so he called them--as she had -spoken now he would, instead of taking her for one of his squaws, have -her tongue cut out of her mouth so that she should never speak again, -he called for the Indians to enter from without. And they, coming in a -moment or so afterwards, showed no signs upon their impassive faces of -having overheard, or understood, one word that had been uttered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The dawn had come now, and the light as it crept in to my ruined -saloon served but to increase my sense of the horrors of the night. At -the side of the window to which they had been pushed by Anuza and the -others, so as to allow for easy ingress and exit, lay huddled together -numberless dead Indians, two or three of my poor servants, and the -bodies of the mastiffs, all of which had been slain after a fierce -resistance. The carpets and rugs for which my father had sent to -London were torn and slit and drenched with blood, the spinet and the -harpsichord were both ruined, ornaments were broken, and the pictures -splashed with blood. Oh, what a scene of horror for the sun to rise -upon!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let all the prisoners who are alive be taken to the woods at once," -exclaimed Roderick to Anuza; "to-night we start back to the mountains. -Our work is done. Pomfret is destroyed, or destroyed so much that -years shall not see it again as it was."</p> - -<p class="normal">Once more, as at his coming, Anuza and his followers prostrated -themselves low before him, whereby I feared that, after all Mary's -denunciations, they still might not have understood how vile a -creature was this whom they worshipped--and then, addressing us, the -impostor said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My loves that shall be--my sweet ones of the Wigwam, I leave you now -while I go to seek others to accompany you to our homes. For your -friends shall be with you, I promise you. You shall, I hope, see -cousin Gregory from whom I was once threatened a beating, and Roger -Cliborne, who was to have been married a week hence. Ha! ha! And -Bertram Pringle; he, too, shall ride with us and we will see if his -courage is as great as that of his vaunted fighting cocks. All, all, -my fair Joice and you, my Mary, shall you see, and"--coming close to -us, while he hissed out the words with incredible fury--"you shall see -them all die a hideous, lingering death by tortures such as even no -saint in the calendar ever devised for his enemies. Farewell until -tonight." After which, calling to his guards, he strode forth into the -morning air accompanied by them.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment Anuza the Bear stood where the window once had been while -gazing after him, his huge form filling up half the vacant space as he -did so. Then slowly, and with that stately grace which the Indian -never lacks, he returned to where we were--I being again crouched on -the floor with my beloved one's head in my arms--and standing before -Mary, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"White woman, were the words that fell from your lips to him the words -of truth? Is he all that you have said?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is all that I have said," she answered, "ay, and a thousand times -worse. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet she told me afterwards that she already guessed the reason of his -question.</p> - -<p class="normal">He made no reply but still stood gazing down at her from his great -height, while she returned his glance fearlessly; then he turned to -one of his warriors behind him and spoke to him in their own tongue, -whereon the man vanished and came back a moment afterwards bearing in -his hand one of my great bowls full of water.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Drink," he said to her, "and refresh yourself." When she had done so -he passed the bowl to me, bidding me drink also. Likewise he let me -bathe my darling's lips with the cool water and lave his temples, and -he permitted Mr. Kinchella to drink; while, on Buck and Lamb making -signs that they too were thirsty, water was fetched for them by -another savage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next, he sat himself down upon a couch that stood against the wall -opposite to us and, with his chin in his hand, sat meditating long, -while we could form no guess as to what shape those meditations were -taking. Then once more, when our suspense was intense, he spake again, -addressing me this time:</p> - -<p class="normal">"White maiden, you who rule as mistress of this abode, you and she -spoke to him as one whom you had known before. Answer me, and answer -truly, what know you of him? And has this, your sister," for so he -seemed to deem Mary, "also spoken truly?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! alas!" I replied, "only too truly. He came to my father's house -a slave bought with his money," here the Bear started and clenched his -great hands; "yet was he not made a slave because of our pity for him. -He ate my father's bread and, in return, he sought the dishonour of -his daughter." Then, being sadly wrought upon by all the misery that -had come upon us, I threw myself upon my knees before him as I had -done to that other, and, lifting up my hands in supplication, I cried -again, "Oh chief of the Shawnee warriors, if in your heart there is -any of that noble spirit with which your race is credited, pity me and -mine; pity us, pity us! Your fathers, as I have said, ate once of our -bread, this house which you have to-night made desolate sheltered them -once. Will you show us no more gratitude than that craven whom you, in -your delusion, worship as a great medicine chief?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He bade me rise, even assisting me to do so, and motioned to one of -the braves to wheel up another couch on which to seat myself, and all -the time he muttered to himself, "A slave! a slave! a drunkard! a -cheat!" and his eyes glistened fiercely.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at last he rose to his feet again, and said with the calm that -distinguished all his actions:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The time has come to set forth to the mountains---"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" Mary and I shrieked together, "No! no! Spare us, oh! spare -us. Nay, rather slay us here on the spot than let us fall into his -hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," he replied, looking down imperturbably upon us, "you have spoken -truth, as from his own manner I deem it to be, no woman will ever fall -into his hands again. If he has deceived us as you have said, no -punishment he promised for the prisoners of Pomfret will equal that -which he himself will endure. I have spoken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And our dear ones," I said, "what, what shall become of them? Oh! do -not tear us from those we love," while, even as I spoke, I flung -myself on Gerald's body and kissed his lips and wept over him. "Those -who are alive must journey with us into the forests and towards the -mountains--those who are gone to their fathers we war not with. This -one," he said, stooping over Gerald, "this one, who was you say to -have been your mate, is not dead, but--he will die."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again I shrieked at his words, though as I did so I saw so strange a -look in the chief's eye that the shriek died upon my lips. It was a -look I could not understand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will die," he went on, "he will die. Yet he was a brave man; of -all white men in this house none last night fought more fiercely. And -this other," turning to the body of O'Rourke, "he too still lives, and -he too will die. Let him lie here."</p> - -<p class="normal">His glance rested next on Mr. Kinchella, and, in the same soft -impassive voice--the voice in which there was no variance of tone--he -said, "You are unharmed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the other replied, "I am unharmed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you," exclaimed the Bear, striding to where all the others stood -bound, "you, too, have escaped our weapons; the great War God has -spared you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, noble chief," exclaimed Buck, as though addressing a comrade, -"the great War God, as you call him, generally does spare Peter Buck. -I was born to good luck, and, noble chief, being so spared I'm going -to give you a few revelations about your great medicine man who's just -gone out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence," exclaimed Anuza, "not now; not now. But come, the day has -arrived. We must go forth." Then turning to me he said, "Take your -last farewell of him you love."</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh! how I kissed my darling again and again, how I whispered in his -ears my love for him in those sad moments of parting, while Mary knelt -by my side and comforted me and Mr. Kinchella stood by gazing down on -to Gerald's white face. To think that I should have to leave him lying -thus, to think that this was our parting when our love was but so -newly told!</p> - -<p class="normal">They took us away very gently, it is true, from my old house, now so -wrecked and battered; they let me go back once more to press my lips -to his; they even let Mary and me go to our rooms, escorted by a -guard, to fetch our cloaks and hoods. But, gentle as these savages -were now--far, far more so, indeed, than could ever have been -believed, remembering all the stories of their cruelty that we had -listened to--their firmness and determination never varied and we were -as much prisoners as though we had been shut up in a fortress.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, at that last parting to which I was allowed to run back ere we -left the room, there happened a thing that brought some joy to my poor -bruised heart. For, as once more I stooped over Gerald to take, or -rather give, my last kiss, I heard O'Rourke whisper low--his body -lying close to my lord's: "Fear not to leave him. I was but stunned, -and I doubt if he is much worse. And believe in me. He shall be my -care. As soon as may be, we will follow you. Fear not."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so I went forth with them, and there was greater peace at my heart -than I had dared to hope would ever come again.</p> - -<p class="normal">All that day we rode towards the forests that lie at the foot of the -mountains and, there having been enough horses in my stables, as well -as that of O'Rourke, none of us were without one. Ahead of all went -Anuza--the Indians themselves being all mounted on horses they had -obtained from the village--speaking no word to any one, but shrouded -in his impenetrable Indian calm; behind him followed a score or so of -his warriors, then we, the prisoners, came, and then the remainder of -the band. Speech was not forbidden us--indeed, there was no enemy for -our captors to fear if Pomfret was destroyed and all the dwellers -thereabouts either driven forth or massacred--and so we conversed in -whispers with each other and discussed in melancholy the sad fate that -had befallen us all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Mr. Kinchella who rode by Mary and me, "I cannot fear the -worst. The chief's behaviour is not that of the Indian who is taking -his victims to a dreadful death. The denunciation of that scoundrel by -Mary has caused a terrible revolution in his mind; he seems, indeed, -more like one who is carrying witnesses against another than one who -is leading forth prisoners."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, reverend sir," said Buck, who rode close by, "what's more is -that the chief doesn't stomach the business he is about. He knew well -enough that neither his lordship nor the captain was badly wounded, -and he left 'em there to escape as best they might--any way he gave -them a chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet he said that he did so," I replied with a sob, "because they -must die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, mistress," answered Buck, "so they must. All men must die. But -they're not a-going to die yet, and he knew it. But I'll tell you who -is going to die, and that before long. That's Roderick, the medicine -man. He's marked as much as any man ever was when the dead warrant -came down to Newgate. Ay! and a good deal more, too, for mine came -down once and yet here I am alive and well, while the old judge who -tried and sentenced me has gone long ago, I make no doubt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will they do to him?" Mary asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do? Do, mistress? Why convict him of being an impostor, and -then--why, then they'll tear him all to pieces. That's what they'll do -with him. And when they've finished with him there won't be as much -left of Roderick as will make a meal for a crow. I've spoken with men -who have been captured by the Indians and lived to escape from them, -and awful tales I've heard of their tortures, but the worst tortures -they ever devised were kept for those whom the Indians have trusted -and been deceived by. And you had only got to look at this chief's -face when you, missy, were denouncing him, to guess what's going to -happen to the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke we did, indeed, remember the look on Anuza's face as he -stood behind the window frame. Also, I remembered the strange glance -he gave me when he said that Gerald and O'Rourke should live though -they must die later. So that it verily seemed as if Buck had rightly -interpreted all that was going on in our captor's mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">We halted that night on the skirts of a forest with, to the west of -it, a spur of the Alleghany Mountains. The scene itself was -picturesque and beautiful, while, to our minds, it had something of -the awful and sublime in connection with it. For here it was that, -although not more than forty English miles from where I had dwelt all -my life, the limit to what we knew of the mysterious unknown land -lying to the west of us ceased. Into those mountains, indeed, the -rough backwoodsman had penetrated sometimes, bringing back stories of -the bands of savages who dwelt within them; we knew that living with -these bands were white men and women who, as children, had been torn -from their homes and parents in raids and forays, but we knew little -more. And for what lay beyond the mountains still farther to the west -we knew nothing except that, thousands of miles away, there was -another ocean which washed the western shores of the great land in -which we dwelt, and that on the coast of that ocean were Spanish -settlements, even as on our coasts there were English settlements. -But, of all that lay between the two when once the mountains were -passed, no man knew anything.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now it was that into those mountains we were to be taken, those -mountains to which Roderick St. Amande had fled from my father's -house, and where, to the Indian dwellers within them, he had appeared -as a great magician or sorcerer.</p> - -<p class="normal">The halt for the night was made, as I have said, on the skirts of the -forest, with cool grass beneath the trees and, above us, those great -trees stretching out their branches so that they were all interlaced -together and formed a canopy which would have kept the rain from us -had it been the wet instead of the exceeding dry season, and with, -sheltering in those branches, innumerable birds twittering and calling -to each other. It was, indeed, a strange scene! Around us in a vast -circle sat the Indians, speaking never at all to each other, but -smoking silently from the pipes they passed from one to the other, -their faces still with the war-paint upon them and their bodies, now -that the night was coming, wrapped in their blankets. Inside that -circle we, the prisoners, were huddled together, Mary being at this -time asleep with her head on her lover's shoulder and I lying with -mine upon her lap, while the men, now no longer my servants, or, at -least, my slaves, talked in whispers to each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">And near us, in the glade, there stood that which we in our poor -hearts regarded as an omen of better things to come. An object which, -at least, went far to cheer us up and to inspire us with the earnest -hope that, even between us and those in whose hands we were, there -might still be a possibility of peace and of mercy from the victor to -the vanquished. This thing was a rude stone in the form of a monolith, -made smooth on one side and with, upon that smoothness, these words -carved: "It was to this spot, in ye yere 1678, that Henry Johnson was -brought from the mountains by an Indian woman, he being a boy of ten, -and set free to return to Jamestown because, as she said to him, 'she -pitied his poor mother.' 'I cried unto Thee in my trouble and Thou -heard'st my prayer.'"<a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">Seeing this stone before us growing whiter in the dusk as the night -came on, we, too, in our hearts cried unto the Lord and besought Him -to hear our prayers and to give us freedom from our enemies and all -dangers that encompassed us about.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h4> - -<h5>AMONGST THE SAVAGES</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The moon was waning and the stars disappearing when the movements of -the Indians told us that the journey was to be resumed. All night -those who had not acted as a watch over the party had laid like -statues folded in their blankets, but now they arose as one man and -set about preparations for our departure. With their awakening we, -too, roused ourselves. Food had been given us over night, consisting -of wheaten cakes and dried deer's flesh, accompanied by gourds of -fresh water, and this was again offered to us ere we set out. Mary and -I scarce ate on either occasion, though the water was indeed welcome, -but Mr. Kinchella made a good meal while Buck and his companions ate -heartily, the ex-highwayman contriving as usual to regard all that -occurred as something to be made light of.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis better than prison fare, anyway," he said to his companions in -the dawn, as they fell to on the meat and bread, "but the devil take -the water! 'Tis cold to the stomach even on so fine a summer morning, -and a tass of Nantz or of Kill-devil from the islands would improve it -marvellously. However, that we must not look for till we get back to -freedom."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You think, then," Mr. Kinchella asked him, "that to freedom we shall -get back?" The man had proved himself so loyal to us that he was now -admitted to almost familiarity and indeed, it could not be otherwise. -If ever we returned in safety to Pomfret, or to the spot where Pomfret -once stood, these men had my word that they were free; they were, -therefore, no longer our inferiors, while, at the present moment, all -who were prisoners in the hands of the Indians were on a most decided -equality. Yet, let me say it to the honour of all who had been my -bond-servants but a day or two before, none presumed upon their being -so no longer, or treated us with aught but respect.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I feel sure of it, reverend sir. As I said before, if the chief is -thinking of anything it is not of killing or torturing us; while, if I -had any money, I would bet it all that there would be a pretty scene -when once Roderick is safely back in their encampment."</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed, indeed, as though this man had, in his shrewdness, -penetrated the innermost thoughts of the Bear, for ere we had been an -hour on the march he, halting his horse so as to send the advance -party of his warriors on ahead, drew alongside of us and, after a -silence of some minutes, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"White people who have dwelt for so long on the lands that once were -ours, know you why your village, which has been spared by us for now -so many moons, has been once more attacked and put to the slaughter by -the braves of my tribe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">No one answered him for some short space of time, but at last I, to -whom he seemed particularly to address himself, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have no knowledge of why this should be, seeing that 'tis now -almost two generations since those who were once our forefathers' -friends attacked us. We had hoped that never would they do so again, -since we have kept to our own lands and never sought to do evil to you -or those of your race."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never sought to do evil, maiden! Nay, pause. Have 'you not now for -more than fifty moons been dreaming of a raid to be made on us, of -more red men to be slaughtered, more lands to be seized?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never," I replied. "Never. I know all that has been thought of and -every scheme that has been projected in our midst, yet there was never -aught of this. Nay, so little did we dream of such an attack as you -have made on us that, though we went always armed, 'twas more because -of the custom which had grown upon us than for any other reason, and, -if Indians came about we thought 'twas to take our cattle and our -herds more than to massacre us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet it was told to us that your men were projecting a great war -against us; that even from your other land beyond the deep waters -warriors were being sent forth who should come and slay us all. That -strange implements of war were being devised for our certain -destruction, and that all of us were to be slaughtered and our lands -and wives taken from us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," I replied, "you were told a base lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed Buck from behind, "and I'll bet a guinea I know who -told it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The chief's eyes fell on him and rested on his face; then he spoke -again, bidding him, since he said he knew who 'twas, to name the -person.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Name him," said Buck, "name him. Ay, that can I in the first guess. -Why, 'twas that cursed, cringing hound, Roderick St. Amande, who fled -from my pretty mistress's house when her father smote off his ear for -daring to insult her. That's who it was, my noble chief."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Smote off his ear!" exclaimed Anuza, while in his face there came the -nearest approach to astonishment that I saw there during the time I -was brought into contact with him. "Smote off the ear of the Child of -the Sun. Yet he told us--he--is this the word of truth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If that cursed impostor is the Child of the Sun--the Child of the -Devil, ho, ho!--then 'tis most certainly the truth. Here's my lady who -can tell you 'tis true. She saw it done. And, noble chief, is <i>that</i> -the one, that poor, miserable hound, who told you of the attack that -was to be made on you and yours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The chief replied not but rode on by our side, his eyes bent on his -horse's mane and he seemingly wrapped in thought. But he spake no more -to us that day, and we knew that he was meditating on how he and all -his tribe had been imposed on by the wretch Roderick. So we journeyed -on until at last we stood at the foot of the mountains, and with, -before us, the town of the Shawnees. 'Twas a strange sight to our -eyes!</p> - -<p class="normal">All around a vast space sheltered or, at least, surrounded by -countless trees, amongst which were the long-leaved pine, the great -cypress and the greater cedar, with some sweet orange trees as well as -myrtles and magnolias, we saw the Indian stockades, their great -protections from man or beast. For over those pointed poles, topped in -many cases with iron barbs, neither foeman nor fierce animal could -spring or make their way through. Then, within these, there came the -tents or houses of the ordinary fighting men, the latter being little -huts, yet large enough, perhaps, for four or five to repose within. A -circle of chiefs' tents succeeded next to these, the sheafs of poles -gathered together at the top being decorated sometimes with banners, -sometimes with gaudy silken drapery, sometimes, alas! with human heads -from which the hair had been torn. That hair had another destination. -It was to decorate the interior of the tents--to be gloated over by -the savage chiefs within and by their squaws, or wives. In the middle -of all was--regardlessly of the health of the encampment--a tomb of -the chiefs, a horrid erection of wood in which the shrivelled remains -were laid side by side to the number of a dozen, their heads towards -the passers-by, their mummified bodies naked, and before them a wood -fire burning--perhaps to dispel any vapours. Thus they lay in the -exact interior of the camp, each one remaining there through the four -seasons and then being buried in the earth. And to guard over and -preserve them, as the savages thought, was a hideous painted figure of -wood, rudely carved, which they call Kyvash, or the God of the Dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now we were to learn what had been the amount of destruction done -to the homes where we had all dwelt so peacefully and happily -together; we of our party were to learn that which we had so much -longed to know, namely, what had happened to those of our friends and -neighbours who dwelt in and around Pomfret. For in that encampment we -met other prisoners like ourselves who had been brought away by the -detachments of the band who had stormed their houses. We saw, alas! -the best of our men captives in the hands of the savages. Seated on a -log outside a tent, his hands tied cruelly behind his back, I saw -Bertram Pringle, a fair-haired young man who was the leader of all the -diversions of our neighbourhood, and the best dancer as well as -sportsman for miles around. There, too, was Roger Clibourne, one of -our largest estate owners and wealthiest of planters; there was one of -the Byrds of Westover (he being sadly wounded) as well as several -rough backwoodsmen, who must have fought hard ere they surrendered; -and many other owners and white servants were also prisoners. But, I -thanked God, there were no other women but ourselves, and my cousin -was not, as the wretch Roderick had said, amongst them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Joice," said Roger, calling to me as I passed by with the -others, "why, my dear"--we had grown up boy and girl together--"this -is, indeed, a sorry sight. Oh! Mr. Kinchella, could you not put a -bullet in their brains or a knife to their throats ere you let Joice -and your sweetheart be captured and brought here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! Hush!" I said to him, pausing on my way, as we all did, our -guards making no resistance. "Hush! Indeed, I think we are in no such -great danger. Anuza, the chief, who stormed my house, has found out -that their great medicine man, who was undoubtedly the instigator of -the attack upon us all, is none other than that horrid villain, -Roderick St. Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Roderick St. Amande!" the others, including the backwoodsmen, -exclaimed, "Roderick St. Amande. Nay, 'tis impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, indeed 'tis true. We of our party have all seen him and -spoken with him; nay, heard him gloat over all the horrors of the -attack and threaten us with what awaits us here. But, but--the chief -heard him too, and also heard Mary denounce him, and, I think, he -meditates worse against him than any of us because he hath deceived -them so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is your chief powerful enough to do thus?" Bertram Pringle asked. -"Ours, our captor, is, we have heard, the head of the whole tribe and -the greatest friend of their medicine man. Suppose he believes not -what your conqueror tells him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," said Buck, "we will give him some proofs that shall make him -believe. I can do any trick Mr. Roderick St. Amande can, either with -cards, palming, or what not, and if they place faith in him for any of -his hanky-panky, hocus-pocus passes, why, they'll fall down and -worship me! I wasn't the conjurer at many a booth for nothing before I -took to more elevating pursuits."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the lads asked us how we had parted from that other one of -whom I thought hourly and only--though they knew it not!--and when I -told them how I had left him wounded and bleeding their sorrow was -great. But they said that, if the Indians did not proceed to any -violence towards us, a rescue must be attempted before long, since -every other hamlet and town would know by now what had befallen us of -Pomfret, and doubtless an expedition would soon set out to seek for -us.</p> - -<p class="normal">So we passed on to where our guards led us, namely, to a great tent -made of hay and straw, and then we composed ourselves for the night -and, after Mr. Kinchella had said a prayer for our safety in which we -most fervently joined, got what sleep we might. But once during that -night I woke and then screamed aloud, for as I turned my eyes to the -opening of the tent I saw, gazing in, the horrid face of Roderick St. -Amande, and his own eyes gloating over us. But at my scream, and -almost ere the others were aroused, the face was withdrawn, and -nothing more was seen at the opening but the figure of the Indian -sentry outside as he paced to and fro in the moonlight, and nought -heard but the soft fall of his moccasined feet on the earth, or -sometimes the cry of an Indian child or dog.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the next day was to be one of great importance was easy to see -from the moment it dawned. Towards a belt of pines which grew upon the -rise of the hills there were already proceeding groups of Indians, -some bearing in their hands the skins of animals and blankets dyed -divers colours; banners, too, were being affixed to the trees as -though in preparation for some great feast. We noted, also, that many -of the Indian women and maidens--with, alas! amongst them some girls -and women who were not Indian born, but white women--were finely -dressed as though for a gala. As we ate of the food which our guards -brought us--though three, at least, of our little band had no appetite -for it--the door was darkened by the form of Anuza, and, a moment -later, his great body stood within the tent, while we observed that -he, too, was now arrayed in all the handsome trappings that bespoke -the rank of a great chief. His short-sleeved tunic of dressed -deer-skin was ornamented with the polished claws of his totem, the -Grizzly Bear; on the shield he bore were the same emblems; even his -long black hair, twisted up now like a coronet beneath his plumed -bonnet of feathers, was decorated with one claw set in gold. In his -wampum belt, fringed and tasselled with bright shells, he carried a -long knife and a pair of pistols richly inlaid with silver and -ivory-won, doubtless, in some earlier foray with our race--at his back -hung down a bleached bearskin cloak to which, by a sash or loop, were -suspended his tomahawk and bow. As I gazed on him I understood, if I -had never understood before, what our forefathers meant when sometimes -they spoke of the Indian as a splendid, or a noble, savage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind him, borne upon a litter by two other Indians, came one the -like of whom I had never seen, an old Indian of surely a hundred years -of age; his eyes gone and, in their place, nought but the white balls -to be observed. His head, with still some few sparse hairs left on it, -bent on his breast, his hands were shrivelled like unto those of the -mummies of which I have read, and his body, even on so hot a day as -this, was enveloped in a great bearskin adorned with the gay plumage -of many bright-coloured birds.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Anuza strode into the tent, or Wigwam, leaving the old man outside -in the sun, he made a grave salutation to us all; but it seemed -directed to me more especially, and then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace be with you all. And, white maiden," he went on, addressing me, -while to my surprise he bent his knee before me, "though death awaits -you and yours to-day, yet it shall not claim you while the Bear is by. -Nor, had I known that which he, my father, has told me, should the -hand of Anuza have been raised against you or your house, or aught -within it." While, as he spoke, I gazed wonderingly at him, not -knowing what his words might mean.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h4> - -<h5>DENOUNCED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Yet the explanation or meaning, when it came, was simple indeed. Many -years before, nay, more than fifty, when my grandfather, Mark -Bampfyld, owned and ruled at Pomfret Manor, his wife strolling in the -woods had met and succoured a wounded Indian who had been shot at by -some other colonist and had dragged himself to where she found him. -Now, at that time the Indian was hated in all Virginia more, perhaps, -than he had ever been before or since, for the memory of how he and -his had been our firm allies was still fresh in all men's memories, so -that their new enmity to us was even more bitterly felt than at any -other period. To succour an Indian, therefore, at this period, was to -do a thing almost incredible, a thing not to be believed of one -colonist by another, and, by the Indian himself, to be regarded as -something that could never by any chance occur. Yet this thing my -grandmother, Rebecca, had done; she had tended and nursed that -savage, who was none other than the father of Anuza now without our -tent--himself, also Anuza the Bear--she had sent him forth a well man -to return to his own people, and, ere going, he had vowed to her, -placing his fingers on the scars of his wounds to give his vows -emphasis, that none of his blood or race should ever again injure -those of hers.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now was I--who had never heard aught of this before--a captive in -his son's hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, oh! white maiden," said Anuza the younger, while the old, -sightless man nodded his head gravely, "had I known aught of this, I -would have smitten off my hands or slain myself ere harm should have -come to you or yours; yea, even before a tree on your lands should -have been hurt or so much as a dog injured. And neither you nor these -others are captives to me longer, though I doubt if, even now, -Senamee, who is chief over us all, will let you go in peace. For he is -as the puma who has the lamb within its jaws when an enemy is in his -hands, and he hearkens to the medicine man, who your sister says is -but a cheat, and who hates you all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said Mr. Kinchella and Mary together, "that cheat can be -exposed; surely if he is proved no medicine man but only a poor -trickster, the chief will not hearken to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Senamee loves much the blood of his enemies," Anuza repeated; "I know -not if that exposure will save you. It is more to be feared that he -will sacrifice both him and you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And can he, this chief, Senamee, do this even when you, a chief, and -your father a chief also, desire to save us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He can do it in one way only," the Bear replied. "He can only do it -if I refuse my sanction, since I of all the tribe stand next to him, -by slaying me in fight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And can he slay you?" exclaimed Mary, as her eyes fell on his -splendid proportions. "Is there any of your tribe who can overthrow -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Indian is but human after all, and on Anuza's usually calm and -impassive face there came, it seemed to me, a look of gratification at -the praise of his great form from a handsome woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," he replied, "whether he can slay me, but this I know, -that he must do so ere harm comes to those who are of the tribe of her -who succoured him," pointing to his father. "That must he do, for -already I am accursed of the god of my tribe in that I have lifted my -hand against one who draws her life through another who pitied and -cared for my father. To remove that curse, I must hold you and yours -free from further harm."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old Anuza, sitting there in the sun, nodded his head and whispered -some words to himself in Indian, which we thought to mean agreement -with his son, wherefore I said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why, Anuza, why, if this is so, did you take part in and -encourage this attack upon our village, upon our houses and our lives; -why, if thus you felt towards us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My father knew not our war trail," replied the chief, "he knew not -which way we took our course; he knew not where that false priest, the -medicine man, led us. And, oh! white woman," he said casting himself -at my feet, "oh! you, who rule over your tribe and these your kin and -servants, give your pardon to me who sinned unknowing what I did, and -believe--believe, I say, that while I can shelter you harm shall not -come near to you. I, the Bear, who has never lied, promise that."</p> - -<p class="normal">I bade him rise, telling him that we would believe in him and trust to -him for safety, when in our ears there arose the most horrid din, the -clanging of spears on shields, the firing of matchlocks--with which -the Indians were well armed, and which they had been taught to use in -the days when they dwelt at peace with us--the howling of the swarms -of dogs that were in the encampment, and many other noises.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark," exclaimed Anuza, "'tis Senamee who goes to take his seat and -to commence the tortures"--we started--"but fear not. To you harm -shall not come. But you must go before him now. It is best so. Come, -and fear not."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus we went forth escorted by the Bear and those of his guards with -him, and so we reached the plantation of pines that grew upon the -mountain slope. Senamee, the chief of all the tribe, was already -seated on a great stone rudely carved into the shape of a chair, -while, by his side, we noticed similar ones made of wood, over all of -which were thrown skins and blankets. He it was, we learnt afterwards, -who had directed the principal attack upon the village, and who had -stormed the homes of the Pringles, Clibornes, and Byrds. These were -standing before him, bound, but looking defiant and gallant as they -cast their eyes round on all the Indian warriors as well as the women -and children, and, even from their servants and some of the rough -backwoodsmen who were also captured, no sign of fear was forthcoming. -Indeed, fierce and dreaded as the Indian was by the colonist and his -dependants, there was always in the minds of the latter a tinge of -contempt mixed with that dread. That contempt was born, perhaps, of -the feeling that, in the end, our race invariably overbore theirs; -that gradually their lands had become ours, even if by just and fair -bargain. Also that, subtle, crafty, and cruel as the savage might be -and dreadful when attacking from his ambush, in all open encounter he -was no match for the men in whose veins ran the good, brave blood of -their old English ancestors.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You come late, Anuza," exclaimed Senamee as, striding through the -assembled crowd, the Bear made his way to a seat opposite the chief -and motioned to us to follow him, while to Mary and to me he signed -that we should seat ourselves on the fur-covered bench beside him. -"You come late." Then, observing the other's action to us and our -taking the indicated seat, he said, "What means this, and why are the -pale face women honoured in the presence of their conquerors? They are -prisoners here, not guests to sit by our sides."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At this moment, oh! Senamee, seek to know nothing," replied Anuza, -"nor ask why the pale face women are seated by my side. Later on all -shall be told you." We saw a look of astonishment appear on the face -of all the other captives at this answer, though it but confirmed in -part that which we had told them overnight, and we saw also a dark -scowl come on the painted face of Senamee, while he muttered to -himself, "'Twill not please the Child of the Sun who is on his way -here," but he said no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the person so termed, the wretched impostor, Roderick St. Amande, -was now on his way we soon learnt. Slowly through the assembled crowd -of warriors, women and others, there came now a dozen or more young -Indian girls habited in fawn-skin tunics reaching to their knees, -with, rudely embroidered on them, golden and silver suns. These were -the priestesses who assisted at whatever rites and ceremonies their -master chose to perform, and were always in attendance on him, as we -learnt hereafter. Then, next to them--who, as they passed, sang or -crooned a most dismal dirge, though doubtless 'twas meant as a hymn of -praise---there came his guards, picked braves whose duty it was to be -always near him. Behind them, came he himself, walking slowly but with -his head erect and casting on all the white captives a look at once -triumphant and scornful. Yet, as he passed by Anuza to enter the -circle, he started with surprise, a surprise bred doubtless of seeing -us seated by that chief's side and also from noticing that, amongst -all the Indians who were now prostrating themselves reverently before -him, the Bear alone did not do so but sat calm and unmoved.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment only he stopped to gaze on us all seated and standing -there, yet 'twas long enough for him to see the contempt on the faces -of Mary and myself and Mr. Kinchella, the look of cold indifference on -that of the Bear, and the mocking grins on the faces of Buck and his -companions. Then, going on to the seat reserved for him by the side of -Senamee, he sat himself in it and whispered a few words to that chief. -But the warrior only shook his head and seemed unable to find any -answer to the questions the other was undoubtedly asking him. Next, he -spake to one of his guards, who a moment afterwards ordered that all -in that place kept silence while the great medicine man, the true -Child of the Sun, addressed them, and on that silence being observed -he spake as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dogs and slaves of the Shawnee race and Doegs," such being his -gracious form of addressing them, "dogs and slaves whom the Great -Spirit has so favoured as to send me, the only true Child of the Sun, -to be your medicine man, chief orator, prophet, and civil ruler, hear -me. Owing to my counsel, inspired by my father, the Sun, you have -within the last few days achieved a great victory over the white -slaves who dwell to the east of these mountains. You have destroyed -their town and brought hither as prisoners those whom you have not -slain. This, since you are but red dogs and slaves, whom I account but -little better than the pale faces, you could never have done but for -my assistance, both in putting spells on your enemies and in seeking -the assistance of my father, the Sun."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here Buck burst into so strident a roar of laughter that Senamee -sprang to his feet and grasped his tomahawk, while he made as though -about to rush at the scoffer and slay him. But the impostor stopped -him, saying, "Heed him not; he is mad. And he is but the slave of the -white woman." Then, continuing, "This victory, I say, you could never -have obtained but for me, and therefore I call on you all, Shawnees -and Doegs, to fall down and prostrate yourselves at my feet and -worship me in this our day of triumph."</p> - -<p class="normal">All, with the exception of the Bear, rose to do so, but as they were -about to cast themselves to the earth the wretch suddenly stayed them -by a motion of his hand, and exclaimed, "But, hold. Ere you do so let -the white women who I have set apart as my own prize come hither to -me. They are mine, I have chosen them; let them come hither and kneel -at my feet as my handmaidens. Come, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">As we, Mary and I, made no motion to do his bidding but only turned -our eyes in appeal towards Anuza, Roderick St. Amande said some words -to two of his guards, who at once crossed the open circle to where we -sat, evidently with the view of seizing us and carrying us to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">But as they approached near to us, Anuza, still sitting calmly, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold! Come no nearer. These pale faces are my captives, and shall -remain by me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two warriors turned in astonishment towards the impostor, as -though asking for further commands, but ere he could give any--and we -now saw on his face a look that seemed born half of rage and half of -terror--the Bear rose from his seat and striding forth to them, while -he grasped his tomahawk, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back to your places at once, or I will slay you here before me. Back, -I say, and obey my orders, not his."</p> - -<p class="normal">His appearance was so terrible that these two men, although themselves -splendid savages of great size and build, shrank away from him and -retreated towards their master. As for that master, his face was -strange to see. He screamed at Anuza, calling him "Indian dog," -"accursed one," and many other names, and stamped his foot and waved -his arms in the air, as though invoking something dreadful on his -head. Yet was it plain to see that, through all his assumed power of -superiority, he was indeed alarmed at Anuza's conduct and knew not -what to make of it.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now Senamee interfered, saying, while he directed fierce glances -at the other:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Anuza, son of the Bear, what means this conduct? Has madness entered -into your brain that thus you revolt against him whom the Sun God has -sent to succour us and to give us power over all our enemies, or has -your heart turned black with ingratitude towards the great medicine -man who has so long ruled over our destinies, who has made our crops -to thrive and our cattle to increase tenfold? And have you forgotten -that to him we owe blessings for the victory over the pale faces in -the first great attack we have made on them for now many moons?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For that," replied the other, still standing before the assembled -crowd, "I owe him curses more than blessings; for it was in this pale -face woman's house--a house now almost destroyed by me and my -followers--that, many moons ago, my father was succoured and healed of -the wounds he had received, and so brought back to life and to his -tribe. And for that I have raised my hand to destroy her dwelling and -to slay those who serve her! Shall I, therefore, not rather curse than -bless him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a murmur among the crowd--a murmur almost of dismay and -horror. For to the Indian, no matter of what tribe or race, and no -matter what other wicked or evil passions may abide in his heart, one -evil sin stands out as ever to be abhorred by them--the sin of -ingratitude; and he who boasts that he never forgives a wrong boasts -also that he never forgets a kindness. So it was not strange that -those assembled should be much stirred by the words of the Bear. The -villain heard the muttering of the rest, as he could not help but hear -it; but, assuming still a defiant and overbearing air, he addressed -them, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Granted that you speak truth, what is that to me? How should I know -that many moons ago this woman's people were good to your father?" and -his horrid sneering face looked more evil than before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How should you know--you who call yourself the Child of the Sun?" -said Anuza, advancing some paces nearer to him and with his arm -outstretched. "How should you know? Have you not then told us often, -us 'the poor dogs of the Shawnee tribe,' that you know all that has -ever passed or happened, and that there is nought on the land, nor in -the skies, nor in the waters that you know not of? 'Tis strange that -this you should not know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Fore Gad!" whispered Buck, "the Injin's hit him fair."</p> - -<p class="normal">So, indeed, it appeared the others around thought; and even Senamee, -who hated Anuza for being so near him in power, turned towards -Roderick with a glance that seemed to bid him answer this question.</p> - -<p class="normal">But ere he could do so the Bear went on again, while the villain -writhed at his words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, oh! my kinsmen and brother warriors, if I have done this thing -unwittingly, and with no knowledge of goodness shown to my father by -those of her race in far-off days, what shall be thought of one who, -also having dwelt under the white woman's roof, has yet turned and -rent her? What be thought of one who, coming as a slave to her -father's house, was yet well tended; who sat at meat in that house, -ay, ate of their food and was clothed with their garments, and, in -repayment, assailed first the woman's honour and next, after nursing -warm his hate for many moons, sought to destroy her and hers, even to -taking from her her house, and her life, and the life of those she -loved?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The impassable Indian blood was roused at last; like the mountain -snow, that stirs not till the sun fires it and causes it to burst -forth a torrent overwhelming all, it burst forth now and, with many -cries, all in that assembly, excepting Senamee and those of his -following, demanded to know what man, what snake, had done this thing?</p> - -<p class="normal">"What snake!" exclaimed Anuza, "what snake! I will tell you, my -brethren. The snake that has also warmed itself by our fires too long, -and who, as it has turned and stung the white woman, will in time to -come turn and sting us if we guard not against it. The snake who has -cheated us and made us believe in him as a god when he himself was but -a pale face and a slave of pale faces; the snake who has dwelt among -us; the cheat and false medicine man--the Child of the Sun!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h4> - -<h5>'TWIXT BEAR AND PANTHER</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Ominous indeed were all the faces around us now. For the denunciation -was terrible; if true, it could mean nothing but death for Roderick -St. Amande. And that an awful death. Near the circle there stood a -Cross which we who dwelt in the colonies knew well the meaning and use -of. That holy symbol, so out of place amongst a band of savages, was -not reared here with reverence, but because, being the token of the -white man's faith, the token to which he bowed his knee and poured out -his soul, their devilish minds had devised it as the instrument of his -execution. And white men, we knew from all hearsay and gossip of those -who had escaped, had often suffered on the cross; there was not an -encampment of Shawnee Indians, of Manahoacs, of Powhattans, -Nanticokes, or Doegs--all of which tribes surrounded Virginia--in -which there was not one erected for their torture and execution. Only, -in those executions their tortures and their sufferings were greater -far than any which had ever been devised outside the colonies. Those -whose fate led them to these Crosses suffered not only crucifixion, -but worse, far worse. As they hung upon them, their poor hands and -feet nailed to the beams, while their bare bodies were tortured by all -the insects that abound in the region, they served also as marks for -the arrows and, sometimes, the bullets of their savage foes. Happy -indeed, were those to whom a vital wound was dealt early in their -suffering, happy those who died at once and did not linger on, perhaps -from one day to the other, expiring slowly amidst the jeers of those -amongst whom they had fallen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was one form of revenge practised by the Indian on the white man, -and, alas! there were many others. There was death by fire and death -by burying alive, the body being in the earth, the head outside, a -prey for the vultures to swoop down upon and to tear to pieces, -beginning with the eyes; there was the death of thirst, when the -victim sat gasping in the hot sun while all around him, but beyond his -reach, were placed gourds of cool water.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was to such deaths as these that we had feared our men might come -if they fell into the hands of the enemy--the women, be it said, were -never subjected to such torture, there were <i>other</i> things reserved -for them--it was one of such deaths as these that Roderick St. Amande -might now fear if the band believed the denunciation of Anuza.</p> - -<p class="normal">That they did believe it seemed not open to doubt. They muttered and -gesticulated, they hurled opprobrious names at him, they even beat -their breasts and bemoaned the disgrace which had fallen on them by -being deceived by one who had been a "slave." This, to these free, -untrammelled creatures of the forest, seemed the worst of all, far -worse even than their having been tricked into believing that he, who -was nothing but a poor mortal like themselves, could be a god and the -Child of the great Sun God.</p> - -<p class="normal">Senamee alone seemed to still believe in the villain; he alone at this -moment raised his voice on behalf of their denounced priest. Rising to -his feet, while his cruel features were convulsed with passion and the -great scars upon his face stood out strangely beneath the paint upon -it, he addressed the members of his tribe thus:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Children of my race, warriors of our various bands, listen to me and -be not swayed too easily by the voice of Anuza the Bear, the chief who -ever opposes me and gnaws at his heart-strings because of my rule and -authority." Here the Bear cast a disdainful glance at him, while he -went on, "Easy enough are these charges to be made; less easy, -however, is the proof of them. Because the Bear has learned now that -he has attacked the house of one by whose kin his father was -succoured, he has readily lent his ear to the tales told him by the -pale faces, all of whom are liars, as we and those who have gone -before us know only too well and to our cost. Yet, against such lying -tales let us remember what the Child of the Sun has done for us--even -before our own eyes, which do not deceive us. He has brought our -cattle from the mouth of death, he has caused all our herds to -increase tenfold, he has blessed our lands and, where before naught -but the serpent and the wolf could live, has made the maize and the -corn to grow. Yet we, but mortal men, could do naught like unto this. -And has he not ruled the heavens! Rain to refresh the earth has come -to us at his bidding; when the moon and the sun have disappeared -before our eyes, without cloud to obscure them, he has conjured them -back again by waving his hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It requires no sharp eye," muttered Mr. Kinchella to us, "to tell -when an eclipse is drawing to an end. If he could have foretold its -coming it would have been more wonderful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has made trees and shrubs," went on Senamee, "to grow before our -eyes, and objects he held in his hands to vanish away into the air."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, curse him," now muttered Buck, who, unhappily, rarely spoke -without an oath, "I taught him to. I would they had looked under his -thumb or up his sleeve."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, above all, is it not he who bade us go forward on the warpath -towards the home of the pale faces, telling us success should come to -us, as it has truly come?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Once more the Indians were roused, but this time it was towards the -adoption of the chief's views. Hating ingratitude as they did, they -seemed to think now--judging by the ejaculations of many of them--that -there was danger of their testifying it to the medicine chief by -turning so suddenly against him. Poor, ignorant savages! 'Twas easy to -see that they believed, as doubtless their chief believed, that to -this mean creature was owing the fact that their crops and their -cattle had thrived so. They could not guess, their simple, unformed -minds could not tell them, that it was to their own exertions, -suggested by him, and not to his mumblings and gibberish over those -crops and cattle, that their increase and fatness was due.</p> - -<p class="normal">But no sooner had Senamee finished than Buck, who could be neither -repressed nor subdued, lifted up his voice and, addressing him, -exclaimed, "Sir! Chief! Listen to me a spell. What this fellow has -done I taught him when he was a bought slave, as I was a transported -one, to this our young lady here, whom you call the pale face woman. -And what he can do I can do better, as I'll show you if you'll give me -the chance. You say he can make objects vanish? Why, look here"; with -which he picked up three stones from the earth, placed them on his -open palm, clenched his hand and blew upon it, and, opening it again, -showed to the astonished surrounders that it was empty. Then he -approached an Indian squaw standing near, and putting out his finger -drew each stone one by one from her long, matted hair, while her dusky -skin turned white and she shrunk away from him muttering. Then he -continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that it? Well, 'tis simple enough--there hain't a conjuror or Jack -Pudding at Bartholomew Fair, nor any other, that can't do better nor -that, and they ain't children o' the Sun, nor more am I. No! not no -more than <i>he</i> is"--pointing his finger at the now trembling Roderick. -"Children of the Sun, ha! ha! children born in a ditch more like; or -in a prison." Whereupon, after laughing again, he stooped down once -more and, seizing some larger stones, began to hurl them in the air -one after the other and catch them as they descended. Yet, when he had -caught them all, his hands were empty.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doubtless the Indians understood not his strange jargon and his talk -about Bartholomew Fair. But they could witness his mysterious tricks, -at which, in truth, I was myself appalled, having never seen the like. -And while once more the simple savages veered round into denunciations -of Roderick St. Amande, muttering that he could be no god if this -other slave could do such things, and some of them turned Buck round -and made him show them his hands and open his mouth so that they might -see if the stones were there, Anuza rose again from his seat and spake -as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Senamee, from you, a chief of the Shawnee tribe and of the noble -Manahoac blood also, have lies issued forth to-day. Nay, start not, -but hear me; I will maintain my words with my arm later. From you, I -say, have lies issued forth; nay, worse; not only were they lies, but -you knew that they were lies and yet coldly spake them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will kill you," hissed Senamee, "kill you with my own hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," answered the other, "if you have the power, but the Bear -is not weak." "Lies," he went on, "lies knowingly told when you said -that I opposed you and was jealous of your rule and authority. For you -know well such words can have no truth in them. In my wigwam hang more -scalps than in yours, the scalps of Cherokees who dispute the -mountains with us, of Yamasees who dwell near unto the deep waters, of -Muskogees; ay, even of the fierce Southern Seminoles who dwell in the -tents of the blood-stained poles. And in my veins runs blood as pure -as yours, while I yield not to you as my ruler, but as my equal only, -except in years. But let this pass; later on you shall kill me or I -you. Now, there is other killing to be done. For not only has this -man," pointing to Buck, who was now showing some other tricks, truly -marvellous, to the Indians, "who is by his own word a slave, proved to -you that the jugglings of the false medicine man are no miracles, but -things which slaves can do; but also have I to add my word against -him. And, oh! my people," he said, turning round and addressing all -there, "you, my kinsmen and friends of the Shawnees, the Manahoac, and -the Doeg tribes, what will you say shall be done to the false priest, -the pale-faced slave, who has imposed on us, when I tell you all? When -I tell you that, in this white woman's house, I heard him speak of us -who have sheltered him and succoured him, as 'credulous red fools'--as -'credulous red fools,' those were his words. And more," he went on, -putting forth his arm with a gesture as though to stay the angry -murmurs that now arose, while Roderick St. Amande sat shaking with -fear in his seat, "the dark maiden here, the sister of the white -woman, denounced him to his face and before me, though he knew not I -heard. She taunted him with having had his lost ear smitten off by his -owner--the ear that he told us often his father, the Sun God, took -from him so that he should be less than he--oh! fools that we were to -believe it! And--and she called him 'thief' and 'lover of fire waters' -and 'cowardly, crawling dog'--think of it, oh! my kinsmen; the Shawnee -warriors and the Manahoacs and the Doegs to be imposed on by such as -this! A slave, a thief, a drunkard, a cowardly dog! Think of it! Think -of it! And for me, Anuza, worse, far worse than this, for at his -commands have I wrecked the house in which he who gave me life was -tended and succoured; at his commands have I made war on and injured -the child's child of her who succoured him."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment and looked round, his eye falling on the angry, -muttering crowd of savages of the three allied tribes; upon Roderick -St. Amande trembling there, making no defence and burying his face in -his mantle, from which he sometimes withdrew it to cast imploring -glances on Senamee. Senamee, who sat scowling on all about him while -his fingers clutched the great dagger in his wampum belt. Then Anuza -went on again, while the muttering of the crowd rose to yells, and -that crowd pressed forward ominously to where the unhappy victim sat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For all this, my brethren, he must die. For the inoffensive blood he -has caused us to shed, he must die--for the lies he has told us, 'the -credulous red fools,' he must die--for all that he has done, he must -die. And there, upon the Cross which he himself selected as the death -to be dealt out to the white men, he shall die to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a how! that was almost like to the dreaded war cry, they all -rushed at Roderick, while high above even the noise of their fierce -threats went forth a piercing shriek from their intended victim, who -clung to Senamee's arm, crying, "Save me, save me," in the Indian -tongue.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the chief would have dreamt of doing so--seeing that, since he -was head of all, he had been more fooled perhaps than any of them--had -it not been for the hatred and antagonism he bore to the Bear, none of -us who were present have ever been able to bring ourselves to believe. -Yet now, to the astonishment of all, both red and white, he did -actually intercede in his behalf.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the crowd surged up to where the wretch sat, men and women being -indiscriminately mixed, braves and warriors jostling their servants -and inferiors, while their gaily-bedecked wives--for this was to have -been a feast day--pushed against almost nude serving-women, the chief -sprang to his feet, threw one arm about Roderick St. Amande, and, -brandishing his tomahawk before their eyes, thundered forth an order -to them to desist.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back!" he roared in his deep tones, "back, I say. What! is Senamee -dead already that others usurp his place and issue orders to his -people? Who is your chief? I, or Anuza, the rebel?" and he struck at -two or three of the foremost with his tomahawk as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are," they acknowledged, though with angry glances at him, "yet -shall not the false priest shelter himself behind your shield. We will -have his life in spite of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His life you shall have when we are sure of his guilt. At present we -have nothing but the word of Anuza, who has said I lie. But what if he -has lied himself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has not lied," they called out. "He has not lied. Anuza never -lies. And his words are proved. The other slave of the white woman can -do more than he. He is no medicine priest. Give him to us that we may -slay him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," answered Senamee. "Not yet. For ere I give him to you I am -about to prove Anuza to be a liar in spite of your belief."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can you prove it?" they demanded, while Anuza himself stood -motionless, his eyes fixed on his rival.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My brethren and followers, you speak either like children who know -nothing or old men who have forgotten what once they knew. Anuza has -told me that I lie. To him I say the same thing. He lies. He lies out -of his spite and envy of me. And have you, oh! ye children or dotards, -forgotten how, when one of our race thinks thus of another, they -decide who is the truthful man and who the liar?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have not forgotten," they all exclaimed; "we have not forgotten. -It must be by the death of one or the other. Both cannot live."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is well," Senamee exclaimed, "it is well. And of Anuza, the rebel, -and of me your chief, one of us must die by the hand of the other. As -that death is dealt out so shall it be decided what the fate of this -one is," pointing to the impostor shivering by his side. "If I defeat -the Bear he shall not suffer, for then it will be known that Anuza is -the liar and has wrongly accused him; if Anuza slays me then must you -do with the medicine chief as is his will. But," descending from his -seat and advancing towards where that warrior stood, "that he will -kill me I do not fear. Those of the house of Senamee dread not those -of the race of the crawling Bear."</p> - -<p class="normal">And then, advancing ever nearer unto Anuza until he stood close in -front of him, he made a defiant gesture before him and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Anuza, the time has come."</p> - -<p class="normal">While Anuza, returning his glance with equally contemptuous ones, -replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have spoken well, Senamee. The time has come."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_III" href="#div1Ref_III">PART III</a></h4> - -<h5>THE NARRATIVE OF -LORD ST. AMANDE CONTINUED</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h4> - -<h5>THE SHAWNEE TRAIL</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">He who has been stunned by a heavy blow comes to but slowly, and so it -was with me and slowly also my understanding and my memory returned, -while gradually my dazed senses began to comprehend the meaning of all -around me. I remembered at last why the handsome saloon in which my -beloved one, my sweet Joice, took ever such pride, should now resemble -the deck of a ship after a fierce sea fight more than a gentlewoman's -withdrawing-room. It dawned upon me minute by minute why the -harpsichord and spinet should both be shattered, the bright carpet -drenched and stained with blood, the window-frame windowless, with, by -it, a heap of dead, formed of red and white men and the mastiffs, and -why my own white silk waistcoat and steinkirk should be stained with -the same fluid. Nor was I, ere long, astonished to see the fontange -which Miss Mills had worn lying on the spinet, nor to perceive -O'Rourke seated by a table near me eating some bread and meat slowly -and in a ruminative manner, while he washed the food down with a -beaker of rum and water and shook his head sadly and meditatively all -the while.</p> - -<p class="normal">And so, in a moment, there came back to me all that happened but a -little time before, as I thought, and with a great shout I called to -him and asked him where my dear one was.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old adventurer sprang to his feet as I did so, and came towards me -muttering that he thought for an instant that the red devils were -coming back again; and then, kneeling down by me, he asked me how I -did and if I thought I had taken any serious hurt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though well I know, my lord," he said, "that 'twas nothing worse than -a severe crack o' the skull; yet, being a poor chirurgeon, I could not -tell how deep the crack was. But since you can speak and understand, -and know me, it cannot be so serious. Try, my lord, if you can rise."</p> - -<p class="normal">Taking his arm I made the attempt, succeeding fairly. But when on my -feet I still felt dizzy, while a great nausea came over me, so that I -was obliged to seat myself at the table and to observe O'Rourke's -counsel to partake of some of the liquor he had by him, if not some of -the bread and meat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis fortunate," he said, "that I could induce those squealing -negroes to come forth after all the others had gone, or else----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gone!" I exclaimed. "Who are gone?" And then, in an instant, perhaps -owing to the draught of liquor, I remembered that the others were not -here; that, above all, my dear one was not by my side. "Gone!" I -exclaimed again; "they are gone! Where to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"With the savages," he replied. "They had no other resource."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore let us follow them at once. With the savages! And they are -two defenceless women. With the savages! And I lying there like a log -unable to help them! Oh, Joice! Oh, Joice, my darling!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said O'Rourke, "distress not yourself so much. While you lay -senseless with that fair young thing's arms around you much happened -that you cannot dream of. Much! Much! Indeed such marvellous things -that even I, who have seen many surprising occurrences, could not -conceive----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In heaven's name out with them!" I exclaimed. "Man, have you not -tortured me enough already in my life and been pardoned for it, that -you must begin again. Out with your tale, I say, if you would not -drive me to distraction."</p> - -<p class="normal">He cast a sad look towards me which, with my recollection of all he -had done last night on our behalf, made me to regret speaking so to -him even under such pressure. Then, after saying there was no further -wish in his heart, God He knew, to ever do aught to me but make -atonement, he commenced his narrative of all that had occurred while I -lay senseless and he lay apparently so.</p> - -<p class="normal">What a narrative it was! What a story! To think of that vile Roderick -being there in command of all the others; to think of that spiteful, -crawling wretch having at last got those two innocent creatures into -his power and able to do what he would with them! Oh! 'twas too -horrible--too horrible to think upon. Nay, I dare not think, I could -only prepare for immediate action.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must follow them," I said. "I must follow them at once, even if -the Indians tear me to pieces as I enter their midst. And what matter -if they do? 'Twill be best so if she, my own darling, has become their -prey. O'Rourke, for heaven's sake cease eating and drinking, and lend -me your assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will I cheerfully," he replied, "and if they have but left a -brace of nags in the stables we will be a dozen leagues on our way ere -nightfall. But as to eating and drinking, well--well! I am too old a -campaigner of all kinds not to take my rations when they fall in my -way. And you, too, my lord, a sailor, should know 'tis bad to go -a-fighting on an empty stomach. Even Corporal John, who loved better -to pouch the ducats than to provision the army, always sent his men -into battle with their stomachs full."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But every moment is precious--every instant. Think of the girls in -the hands of those ruthless savages, in the hands of my villainous -cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, I do think on't. Yet will I wager all my hopes of future -pardon--heaven knows I stand in need of it--that the girls are safe -enough. Have I not told you that the great Indian, the gigantic chief, -heard all. All! He heard Mistress Mills denounce your cousin, and he -heard him call all the tribe superstitious or ignorant fools, or words -of a like import. And, what's more, he knew that neither you nor I -were dead, nor like to die, and yet he left us here unharmed. My lord, -I tell you," he continued, slapping down the bowl he had just emptied, -"that no harm is coming to those young maids, nor do I think to any of -the other prisoners. And more I tell you also, the one who will come -worst out of this fray will be your cousin Roderick."</p> - -<p class="normal">I would have answered him and said how devoutly I trusted such might -be the case, when we heard a clatter in the courtyard behind and the -shoutings of many men, and voices all talking at once, some -exclaiming, "At least they've left this house standing." "What of the -women folk?" "What of Mistress Bamfyld?" and so forth. And then, as we -rushed to the back windows, I recognised many of the other residents -of the place whose acquaintance I possessed, with, at their head, her -cousin Gregory.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is Joice?" he called out as he dismounted, seeing me. "Where is -she? Is she safe? Yet she must be since you and this other gentleman -are here alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">It took not long to tell them all, nor to learn that which had -befallen all the other houses and manors around. Some, we learnt, were -burnt to the ground; some were spared simply because they were so well -defended that the Indians had drawn off at daybreak without achieving -any victory; at some every inhabitant had been killed even to the -women and children; at others every creature had escaped. Many, too, -were the deeds of daring that had been done on this night of horror. -Women had stoutly helped their husbands, brothers, and sons in -fighting for their homes, one woman having killed near a score -of the Indians with her own musket. Another, who was alone in her -house--her husband being away at the newly re-constructed town of -Richmond--having none about her but her babes and some worthless -negroes, also defended her house both skilfully and valorously. She -appeared at different windows dressed in her husband's clothes, -changing the wig, or the coat, or other garments as she passed from -one room to another, so that the savages were led to think that the -house was full of men. She shouted orders to imaginary servants and -friends as though they were there to assist her, and every time she -fired she brought down her man so that, by daybreak, her little house -was of those saved. And this was but one of the many gallant actions -performed that night which I cannot here stop to narrate.</p> - -<p class="normal">All who had now ridden into the courtyard of my dear one's house were -there with but one impulse to stir them. That impulse was revenge and -the rescue of the many prisoners whom they knew to have been carried -off. Yet, when they heard that Joice was gone--who amongst all the -girls in that part of the colony was, perhaps, the most beloved--and, -with her, Miss Mills, that impulse was stirred more deeply still, so -that when Gregory, addressing them, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gentlemen, she is my cousin, as you know, and, with Miss Mills, is -the only woman captured; therefore must I beg that the leadership of -this party is given to me," they willingly accorded him his desire.</p> - -<p class="normal">But this I could not permit, so I, too, made a speech to them, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet must I put in my claim against Mr. Haller. Mistress Bampfyld is, -indeed, his cousin, but to me she is more--she is my promised wife. -Therefore, no matter who heads this party, I alone must go as the -chief seeker after her. I would have saved her with my life last night -had it been granted me to do so; I must claim the right to rescue her -now, or to die in attempting it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your promised wife!" poor Gregory said, looking mournfully at me. -"Oh, Joice! Oh, Joice!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But he alone was the one who did not heartily receive my statement, -all the others shouting lustily "for the future Lady St. Amande," and -saying that none was so worthy of such an honour as she.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," I said, "nay. 'Tis she who honours me by giving me her love, -and therefore must I be the first to risk my life for her."</p> - -<p class="normal">So it was agreed that we should set forth at once on the trail, there -being many skilful trappers and hunters in the party who could take it -up as easily as an Indian himself, while, for commander, there should -be no one, each doing his best with the knowledge he possessed of the -savages' habits. Of this knowledge I myself had none, yet was I -recognised as the one most to be considered because I was the -affianced husband of Joice, the "Virginian Rose," as I had heard her -called ere now.</p> - -<p class="normal">It needs not that I should set down aught that befel us on the -expedition; I know now that my love has written a description of the -journey she made. Nor is it necessary that I tell all that O'Rourke -narrated to us of the arrival of Roderick St. Amande on the scene of -slaughter after I was struck senseless, for that, too, you know. But, -as he informed us of all that had transpired at that time, and as he -told us that, had not it been for this execrable villain, there could -be little doubt that Pomfret and all the countryside round would have -been left as secure from attack by the Indians as it had been hitherto -left for many years, the rage of all in our party was supreme and -terrible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope," said one of the Pringles, uncle to the young man now a -prisoner, as I learnt, "I hope that, if the gigantic chief you speak -of is going to wreak his vengeance on the scoundrel, I may be in some -way witness of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I! And I!" exclaimed several others. "If we could see that, or if -they would but deliver him back into our hands, we would almost -forgive them all that they have done for our houses and families."</p> - -<p class="normal">Travelling quickly, urging the poor beasts that they lent us onwards -as much as possible, walking by their sides to relieve them, and -carrying sometimes the saddles ourselves so that they might have -greater ease, we reached the spur of hills to which the trail had led -us on the morning of the third day after the raid on Pomfret. Thus, as -we knew afterwards, by not sleeping at night, or by sleeping only for -an hour or so at a time, we had arrived at the very period when the -exposure of Roderick St. Amande took place.</p> - -<p class="normal">That we had proceeded with caution you may be sure. One would as soon -put their head in the lion's mouth as approach an Indian encampment -without due care. Our horses had by this time been left behind, -tethered in a glade and with their heads enveloped in blankets so that -they should not neigh, and one by one the whole of our party, which -consisted of some forty persons, crept slowly round the bluff of the -mountain, leaving the encampment to what I, as a sailor, may describe -as the leeward. Our plan, suggested by an old colonist who had been -engaged in fighting and contending with Indians and wild animals since -far back into the days when William of Orange ruled, was to creep -round this bluff, to ascend it a little, and then, from the elevation, -to look down upon the Indians' town and concoct our method of attack. -And, to the surprise of those who understood the Indian method of -warfare, this we were enabled to do without being discovered. We -encountered no outposts, such as these savage warriors invariably -throw out in a circle round their encampment. We saw no naked breast -or plumed head of Indian sentry gleaming through the pines and -sassafras, laurels and sumachs; no hideously painted face glaring at -us from behind the muscadine vines or maple trees that grew in rich -profusion at the mountain's base, ere its owner launched his poisoned -arrow at us. The reason was, as we learnt later, that none in that -encampment believed that the white avengers could travel twice as fast -as they themselves had travelled. None believed there could possibly -be a pale face within twenty miles of their town; and, more, there -was that taking place in their midst which was enough to distract even -the wary Indian from his duties of watchfulness.</p> - -<p class="normal">What was happening we ourselves saw a few moments later.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h4> - -<h5>AS FOEMEN FIGHT</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was when we had climbed the spur, or bluff, one by one, crawling -like Indians or snakes ourselves, and when we lay prone and gazing -down upon the open space in the encampment that we saw that which -astonished us so.</p> - -<p class="normal">This it was.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the middle of that open space there stood, or rather fought, two -men, each contending for the other's life. Each also was a splendid -example of the Indian race, great in height, muscular and sinewy; yet -the one who seemed the younger of the two was the tallest and the best -favoured, the elder having a fierce and cruel face. Both wielded that -dreadful instrument, the tomahawk, the weapon that, while so small and -harmless-looking, is, in the hands of those accustomed to its use, so -deadly; both were bare from the waist upwards, their breasts painted -with emblems or devices--a bear on one, a panther on the other. Yet -more dreadful, perhaps, than to know that this was a combat to the -death, was to see the manner in which the struggle took place. It was -no battle of blow against blow, of one blow struck only to be warded -off and another given; it was a fight in which craft was opposed to -craft and skill to skill, such as no Italian swordsman perhaps knew -better how to exhibit. Round and round what once would have been -called the lists, or, as we now term it, the arena, those two stole -after each other, first one creeping like a tiger at his foe and then -his opponent doing the same; while, as they came within striking -distance, the tomahawk would rise in the attacker's hand only to sink -again as its wielder recognised that it must surely be skilfully -parried or fall ineffectually. It was weird, horrible--nay, -devilish--to see these two great types of humanity creeping at one -another like tigers, yet never meeting in a great shock, as one might -well have looked for.</p> - -<p class="normal">But those below who sat there caused us as much surprise and agitation -as did these combatants. There I saw my sweet Joice with, on her fair -face, the greatest agitation depicted while she watched every movement -of the contending foemen, her excitement being intense as the one who -bore the emblem of the bear advanced as though to strike the other, -and her look of disappointment extreme when he drew back foiled. What -did it mean? What did it portend?</p> - -<p class="normal">And there, too, was Mary Mills, her hand in Kinchella's as they sat -side by side, while on both their faces was the same eager look, the -same evident desire for the victory of the younger champion; the same -look of regret when he was forced to draw back. But, more marvellous -even than this, was what we further saw, yet could not comprehend. -<i>All</i> in the crowd of spectators, save one who sat huddled on a great -chair or bench, his face covered with a mantle from which he peeped -furtively, seemed possessed with the same desire as they; all their -sympathy was with him who bore the emblem of the bear. It was so with -the dusky warriors who watched every cat-like footstep that the -antagonists took; so with the humbler Indians round; so with the -richly-bedizened Indian women, whom we deemed the wives or squaws of -the braves, and so with the almost nude Indian girls, servants -probably. And with all the other white people it was equally the -same. Buck and Mr. Pringle, and Mr. Byrd, as well as the other -prisoners--though none seemed like prisoners, being unshackled and -quite free--applauded and shouted in English fashion as the younger -warrior attacked the elder. One would have thought the former was -their dearest friend! They winced when the elder attacked in his turn, -and looked black and anxious if for a moment the fight seemed to go -against the Bear. Strange! all were for him--all; Indians, white -people, even my own dear sweetheart and her friends, Mary and -Kinchella--all, all, excepting that one shrouded, unknown creature who -sat apart by himself. Who could he be? What did it mean? O'Rourke was -able to inform me.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had told me that the Indian who was the desired victor of all -who regarded the combat was the one who had been the chief in command -of the attack on my sweet one's house, and had heard Roderick St. -Amande not only exposed by Miss Mills but also by his own tongue, he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, my lord, remembering this, 'tis not difficult to draw therefrom -a conclusion that shall, I think, be near the mark. He has denounced -the villain Roderick--see how he cringes in his chair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In his chair? Is that creature Roderick?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is, indeed, and I will wager that on this conflict his life -depends. And, look, look! The Bear presses the other hard. See how he -drives him back. Ah, God! he stumbles, he is--no, no! See, see, my -lord, see! Ah, heavens! it is too dreadful!" And he placed his hands -before his eyes. Even he, who had fought so well and risked his life a -score of times three nights ago, could not witness the end of this -fray.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, indeed, too dreadful. The end of the combat had come. Even as -O'Rourke had been speaking, the Bear, creeping ever forward towards -the other, had prepared to make a spring at him when, his foot -catching against some unevenness in the baked earth, he stumbled and -nearly fell. And then, indeed, it looked as though he were lost. In an -instant his antagonist was at him; on high he whirled the dreadful -tomahawk, we saw its gleam as it descended, we heard Joice and Mary -scream and clasp their hands--and we saw that it had missed its mark. -It had overshot the other's shoulder; as it descended the Panther's -great forearm alone struck on the shoulder of the Bear, the deadly axe -itself cut into nothing but empty space. So the latter had lost the -one chance given him in the fray.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now his own doom was sealed--now at the moment that O'Rourke -called out in terror. As the Bear recovered himself from what was in -itself a terrible blow given by the muscular arm of the other savage, -so he seized that arm with his left hand,--it closed upon that other's -limb as a vice closes when tightly screwed!--he wrenched the arm -round, dragging with it its owner's body, and then, high, swift, and -sudden, his own tomahawk flashed in the air and, descending, cleft his -antagonists head in half, he falling quivering and dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">From us, lying up there on the rise of the bluff, there came a gasp, a -sigh of relief that the horrid combat which had caused us all to hold -our breath was finished; from the Indians below there arose dreadful -whoops and yells. They rushed into the great circle, they shouted and -they screamed; their noted impassiveness gone now, for a time at -least. They jeered at the great dead carcase lying there, a pool of -blood around it, and with the weapon still in its sinewy hand; they -even dabbled their fingers in that blood as the cried: "Anuza is now -our chief. The Bear shall rule over us. Senamee was unworthy, and he -has met his fate."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, as we prepared to descend into their midst, we saw Anuza, as they -termed him, turn towards the prisoners. Looking principally, it seemed -to me, towards Joice, we heard him say:</p> - -<p class="normal">"White woman, and you, her kin, have I atoned somewhat for the sin -that I have done to you! The dead whom we slew in your houses we -cannot bring back, but one of those who urged us most to the fray has -answered for it. Now shall the other--the cheat, the false medicine -man--be punished also." And he turned towards where my cousin had sat -but a moment before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" he exclaimed, rushing towards the bench, "what, gone! Gone! -Where is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But this none could answer for, in the few moments of intense -excitement that had followed the death of him whom they called -Senamee, he had disappeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">As they set forth to find him, as braves shouted orders to inferior -warriors to track and discover him but on no account to take his life -till it was offered up before them all, I rushed down the declivity of -where we had lain and, heedless of the excitement our appearance -caused, approached my darling and clasped her in my arms. Ah! what joy -it was to have that fair young form enfolded in them, to hear her -murmured words of love and happiness, to be with her once again, even -though our meeting took place in such a scene as this!</p> - -<p class="normal">But, ere we could do more than exchange hurried whispers one with -another, the victorious chief was by our side and he was addressing -me:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beloved of the white woman," he said, "though I know not how you and -yours came here so swiftly," pointing to all my companions who stood -around, some shaking hands with the gentlemen who had been captured, -some regarding the dead body of Senamee which lay where it had fallen, -and some talking to the bond-servants who, with Buck for their chief -spokesman, were giving an excited description of what had happened to -them. "Beloved of the white woman, for such I know you to be, have you -come here simply to carry her back to her own dwelling house, or to -demand vengeance for the wrong done on her and all of you and your -servants and slaves? Answer, so that we shall know."</p> - -<p class="normal">I cast my eyes down on Joice, who, poor maid, was now sobbing on my -breast, while some of the Virginian gentlemen who knew not of our -recently avowed love gazed with somewhat of an amazed look at us; and -then I replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"As yet I can make no answer to you. Amongst all these white men whom -you see here I am of the least standing, being but a stranger in the -land with no tie to it but this maiden's love. Yet since you address -me, and if they will have me for their spokesman at this moment," and -casting my eyes around on our friends I saw that they were willing it -Should be so, "I say that, ere we reply to you, we must be given some -time for conference between ourselves on the wrong which you have done -towards those who never harmed you nor yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here to my amazement, though I learnt the reason directly afterwards, -the great chief heaved a profound sigh, and, indeed, groaned, while I -went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And also must we know in what position we are here within your camp. -Do you still regard us as at war or peace? Are all free to go as they -desire, or are those here prisoners still?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Amidst the calls of the Indians who were seeking for Roderick to one -another from the thickets and groves, and the continued shouts which -told us that as yet their quest had been unsuccessful, the chief -answered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, too, speak as the mouth of my tribe, almost all of whom can -understand my words; nay, some there are whose fathers and fathers' -fathers were of your blood. Even so," he said, hearing our murmurs of -astonishment and, in the case of some, their murmurs of disgust. "Even -so. But for all of my tribe, whether of the noble Shawnee and Doeg -races which hath spread here from the great river to the north, or the -Manahoacs, or Monacans, or Tucaroras, Catawbas, or Cherokees, of all -of which races we are composed, and also for those of white blood who -have become of us, I speak, since he who now lies there is dead. All -are free to go, nay, shall be escorted back in safety to their homes. -For the war which we have made on you has been a sinful one, ordered -by the lying false medicine man whom we believed in. And, or -atonement, this I offer, being, though I knew it not then, myself the -worst of all my tribe. For the injuries I have done to the white woman -whose people were good to my father I offer my life, having naught -else to give. Here on this spot I offer it, now and at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">And to my amazement, as well, indeed, as that of all around, Anuza -came forward to where Joice and I stood, and, kneeling down before -her, stretched out his arms and went on: "Take it now, either with -your own hands or by the hands of this your beloved, or the hands of -these your slaves and servants. What more can I offer than this, -unless also you desire that I shall die a death of torture? And, if -that be so, then that will I also endure."</p> - -<p class="normal">My love had raised her head from my breast to gaze at him as he spoke -thus; around us had gathered the gentlemen of Pomfret who had been -taken prisoners; near us, looking on with strange and curious looks, -were those who but recently had been her bond-servants. 'Twas a -strange scene and one that would well have become a painter's -brush had any been there to limn it. The noble form of the huge -chief prostrate before the golden-haired girl who clung to her -lover--himself a sorry sight in his soiled and stained finery, which -he had worn from the evening that had begun so happily and ended so -horribly in her house; the dead body of the other chief lying there -close by her feet; the forms of Indian men and women all around, some -clad in gorgeous bravery and some nearly naked; also the other white -men of different degree--all looking on. Nor would the background have -been unworthy of so strange a set of characters. The green glade -dotted with its tents and wigwams, set off in contrast the -blood-smeared arena where the dead man lay; behind began the ascent of -the mountain range, clad with the verdure of the white magnolia, the -tulip tree and laurel, with, peeping through, the darker green of the -bay tree. Glinting through their branches and many-hued leaves were -seen the colours of the blue jay and blue birds, the golden orioles -and the scarlet cardinals, with, distinct from all and horrible to -see, the dusky forms of the foul vultures who had been gathered to the -spot by the warm, sickly scent of the dead man's blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now my beloved, drying her eyes, spoke softly to the man kneeling -before her, saying in her sweet, clear voice:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, speak not to me of death; there has been too much already. -God He knows I seek not your life--no, not more than she who succoured -your father sought his. But, oh! if this last conflict might end for -ever the encounters between your people and mine I would ask no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">From the Indians around there came a murmur that seemed born of -surprise. "She forgives," they whispered to each other. "The white -woman forgives the evil the Bear has done to her." And still they -murmured, "She forgives."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes! oh, yes!" Joice cried, hearing their words, while she -stretched out her fair young arms so that, indeed, I thought she -looked more like unto an angel than before. "Yes, if forgiveness rests -with me, then do I indeed forgive. And you, my friends," turning to -those of our own race who stood around, "will you not forgive too; -will you not make this day one that shall end all strife between them -and us? Oh! if thus we could forget the wrongs that each has done to -the other, if the red man will forget the white man's attacks on him -and the white men forget the Indian's revenge, how happily we might -all dwell together in peace for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">I looked round that strange gathering as she spoke, and, doing so, I -saw that which might well give good augury of the coming to pass of -what she desired. For in the eyes both of Indian and of colonist, of -savage warrior and of almost equally savage backwoodsman and hunter, -there were tears to be seen. It was not only from the clear young eyes -of Joice that they fell.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h4> - -<h5>A LONG PEACE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">An hour later those who had been such deadly enemies sat at peace -together, engaged in a consultation. In a circle, side by side, were -the sachems and sagamores of the tribe, the settlers of Pomfret who -had come forth with me to rescue our friends, the late prisoners -themselves, and Joice seated by me. Apart, and taking no share in the -proceedings, were Kinchella and Mary Mills; above, and seated in -Senamee's great chair, was Anuza, now chief over all. Farther off were -the late bondsmen and many other of the Indians, while in the centre -of them was Buck, showing a variety of cheats and delusions, and -endeavouring to teach them how to perform them themselves--though this -they seemed unable to do.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now an old paw-wah, or sachem, passed the pipe he had been smoking -to another sitting by his side, and spake as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Chiefs and braves of the tribe who are ever now allies, and you, the -pale faces who dwell to the east of us, hearken unto me. For ere the -sun sets to night it shall be, perhaps, that peace is settled between -us for ever; ay! until the sun shall rise no more and the moon shall -be darkened always."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak," said one of the tribe, while others gave the peculiar grunt -of the Indian and those of our party also bade him speak.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is good," he answered, "and I will speak of the far-off days when -first the pale face came amongst us, though not then as a foe, until -even now when, if the great Spirit so wills it, he shall never more be -one. For the wrongs that have been done by the one to the other may be -atoned for ever now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, as it seemed, and then -again he went on: "When first the great waterhouses brought the pale -face to our land they brought not enemies but friends. This all know. -They came among us and they were welcome. We gave them of the fish of -our streams and the beasts of our forests and the fruits of the earth, -and in return they gave us the fire-weapons with which to slay the -beasts. They taught us also how to prepare them in better ways than we -knew, they showed us how to build houses that should be more secure -against the sun's heat and the winter's cold than those we made of the -red cedar's bark. All was well between us; we were friends. Nay, as -all know, we were brothers. We lay on the white man's hearth and he -cherished us; he slept in our cabins and wigwams and he was safe. Why -remained it not so? Hear me, and I will tell you.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The white man spake not always truth to us. He told us that our lands -were worthless, and he bought them from us for nothing, unless it was -the accursed fire-drink which made us mad, or for fire-weapons that in -our hands would slay nothing. Yet the lands thrived in his grasp and -he possessed them and we had lost them. And when we reproached him he -used fire-weapons that slew us without failure, and our prisoners whom -he took he sent away for ever across the deep waters.<a name="div4Ref_05" href="#div4_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a> So he took -our lands and our men, and got all, and we had nothing. And the Indian -never forgets. Thus, while we drew away from where the pale face -dwelt, some coming to these mountains and some going even farther -towards the unknown land of the setting sun, we had naught to cherish -but our revenge, and naught to comfort us but the exercise of that -revenge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," interrupted young Mr. Byrd, "in the days of my grandfather you -made a peace with us, and took gifts from us, and fire-weapons that -would kill of a surety, and agreed to attack us no more. But even that -peace you did not keep, though you made no raids upon us such as this -you have now made."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet were we never the aggressors," the sachem replied. "Never was an -attack made by us until evil was done to us. But the Indian forgives -not. If one of our race was slain by one of the white race then must -one of his kin be slain by us; if our women were outraged, as has -often been, or insulted, then must a white woman or a child be carried -away by us. It is the law of our gods; it must be obeyed. For a life a -life, for a hand a hand, for an Indian woman's honour a white woman's, -or the carrying off of children."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said Gregory, "there was naught to inspire such desire for -revenge as to cause this last attack. None in Pomfret have harmed you -or yours for many moons. What had she," pointing to Joice, "done; she, -this innocent woman, scarce more than a girl even now, that thus you -should attack and ruin her and seek her life and that of those by whom -she was surrounded?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The sachem was about to answer when whatever he would have said was -interrupted by Anuza, who, speaking quickly, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because we were deceived by a lying, false, medicine man it was done. -Because he told us lies, even as he has lied to us ever since he dwelt -amongst us. And for those lies he shall die. He cannot escape us long. -Yet, since it is due to the white men that they should know how that -crawling snake worked upon us, so that we believed in him and did his -bidding and attacked their houses, tell them all--tell them all," and -he motioned to the sachem as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">That all of us were eager to hear this recountal, you may be well -sure, for there was scarcely one amongst us who had not known the -wretch. The gentlemen had met him as an equal--for all believed his -tale--he had caroused with the (now freed) bondsmen, and he had even -gone a-hunting with the backwoodsmen and trappers. So we bent our ears -to the narrative and listened greedily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was found," said the paw-wah, "lying in the forest by Lamimi, the -young daughter of Owalee, a chief of the Powhattans, and she, because -her heart was tender, succoured him. But because Owalee hated the pale -faces with a great hatred she kept him secret from her father for many -days, hiding him in a cave she knew of and going to visit him often. -Yet she believed him to be no pale face, but rather a god sent from -another world, so wonderful were his doings. Food he refused at her -hands, making signs to her (and knowing, too, some words of her -tongue, as she knew some of his, by which they conversed) that meat -was brought to him by some unseen power. And of this he gave her -proof, showing her bones of fishes and of animals and birds which he -had devoured. Later on she learnt that he could marvellously snare all -creatures, making them captive to him even though he had no weapons, -but this she told us not until to-day. Nor told she until to-day--when -she, who had been his squaw and loved him, learned that she was to be -cast out and the white maiden here and her dark sister made to take -her place--of all his own deceptions and crafts. But, to-day, because -she hates him now as once she loved him, she has told all--all! She it -was who taught him the history of our braves and their deeds and the -deeds of their forefathers, which we thought the Sun God only could -have taught him so wonderful did his knowledge seem. She it was who -carried to him the news of what the tribes were deciding on doing, -either in war with other tribes, or in hunting, or in sacrificing, so -that, when he told us that he had learned all our future intentions, -again we believed that his father, the Sun, gave him the knowledge. -Fools! fools that we were! Yet we never thought of the girl, Lamimi, -though we knew she was his squaw. Nor would she have told him all she -did had he not ruled her by terror as much as by love. For he made her -believe that he could cause her to vanish for ever off the earth, even -as he made things to vanish from his hands and be no more seen; or as -he made stones to fly into the air and descend no more. Yet now she -knows, as we know, that all was but trickery, and that many others can -do the same, even as that one there," pointing to Buck, "who says he -is the child of no god, can do such things.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So the false one worked upon us, doing that which no medicine man had -ever done before; and so, at last, he got supreme control over us, -making us obey his every word. And ever did he tell us that, if we -would please the great Sun God, then must we make war upon and destroy -all the pale faces who dwelt between these mountains and the waters, -directing more particularly our vengeance towards the spot where you, -ye white people, live. This we at first would not do, because for many -moons there had been peace between us with neither little nor great -war; yet, as moon followed moon, and leaf was followed by barrenness -and then withered and fell to the earth, still did he press us. When -the thunder rolled and the lightning blasted our cattle, he told us -the Sun was angry because we obeyed him not; when many of our horses -were killed by reptiles and venomous insects he said ever the same; -when our women bore dead children still spake he of the Sun God's -anger. And yet we would not hearken unto him, for since the pale faces -no longer came against us we went not against them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But lo! one day, when all the earth was dark, yet with no cloud -beneath the sky, he stood forth here on this spot where now we sit, -and, stretching out his arms which were bare, he said that ere long -upon his hands should appear a message from the Sun telling us of the -god's anger. And soon the message came, though now we know that it was -a cheat. Upon his open palm, which had been empty ere he clenched it, -there appeared a scroll of skin with, on it, mystic figures which none -could decipher but he. And the figures said, he told us, that never -more should the heavens be light again and that there should be -darkness over all the land, if we would not make war upon the white -men and save ourselves. For they, he said, were arming to attack us, -from over the deep waters their great king, who dwelt beyond them, was -sending more fearful fire-weapons than we had known with which to -destroy us for ever, and, ere another moon had passed, they would have -come. So, at last, in the darkness of the day, and with great fear in -the hearts of all the warriors and braves of the tribe, they said if -he would cause the Sun God to show his face again, then they would -promise to make the war. And so he stretched his hands to the Sun and -spake some words, and slowly his rays came forth again one by one and -light appeared again upon the world. Yet this we also know now was -false, and that the rays would have come and also the light even -though the promise had been withheld. I have spoken."</p> - -<p class="normal">At first none of us uttered a word when the sachem concluded. In -truth, all were surprised that, even among these poor, ignorant -savages, such credulity could have existed. And, I think, most of us -were pondering on what they would have done to the impostor had the -promise not been forthcoming by the time that the eclipse--for it was, -naturally, of such a thing the sachem spake--had passed away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet a spokesman had to be put forward on our part, and so we drew away -a little to consult. And having chosen one, which was Kinchella, we -returned and he addressed the Indians thus:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Warriors, braves, and people of the assembled tribes. We have thought -upon all your sachem has said, and we wish that the only true God had -inspired your hearts so that you should not have listened to the false -prophet who deceived you. Yet, since you have done so, and have made -war upon those who in their generation have never harmed you, what -reparation can you offer us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ask what you will," said Anuza, "and if it is in our power it shall -be given."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis well. Listen, therefore. These are our demands. Firstly, all -those who dwell with you and have our blood, the blood of the white -men, in their veins, shall be brought here, so that we may speak with -them and implore them to return with us to their own people. Also that -I, who am a humble minister of the true God, may endeavour to bring -them back to His service and, if I can prevail upon them, then you -shall let them accompany us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you can prevail upon them," said Anuza, "they shall accompany you. -But that you cannot do," and the tone in which he spoke seemed to us -one of most marvellous confidence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least we will attempt it. Next, we call upon you all here -assembled to make vows, the most solemn to which you can pledge -yourselves, that never again shall you make war upon the white man, or -his houses or property, nor attempt aught against him until he first -attacks you, and that none of your tribes shall come within a day's -ride of our lands either by stealth or openly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Children of these our tribes," exclaimed Anuza, "you hear this -demand. Will you agree to it so that evermore there shall be unbroken -peace between them and us? Answer."</p> - -<p class="normal">To this there were many who cried out that they would agree to it, -while one, an older man than Anuza, coming forward, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"A peace is no peace unless it binds both alike who agree to it. Will -the pale faces agree also that, if we advance not into the lands they -have possessed themselves of, they will come no further into ours? -Will they do this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">All of our side said they would promise this, while they recalled to -the Indians that 'twas more than fifty summers and winters since they -had made any encroachments on the Indians' territories, or taken one -rood of land from them except by barter at a price agreed upon. And so -at last the compact was made--the peace (which hath ever since that -day, so far as my knowledge serves, been kept in His Majesty's loyal -colony of Virginia) was entered into. It was ratified by the white men -calling upon heaven to witness their agreement to it, and by the -Indians swearing upon their wounds and scars, and calling upon their -gods to inflict most dreadful vengeance on them, and their children -afterwards, if they failed in their part. And also was it sealed by -the passing round of a pipe of peace, at which all smoked silently for -a few moments. But still one other promise was extorted from them--the -promise that the sacred symbol of our faith, the Cross, should be -taken down and nevermore used for the horrid rites to which hitherto -it had been put. This we saw done ere we left them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, as we sat smoking gravely with those who had so lately been our -bitter foes, there came in the Indians who had been sent to find the -villain Roderick, who reported that nowhere could any traces of him be -discovered. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had come--all trace -and trail of him was lost.</p> - -<p class="normal">And what disturbed these grave savages almost as much--nay, I think, -more, was that Lamimi, the daughter of Owalee, who had been Roderick's -squaw and had loved him once, was gone too. And white and red man -both asked themselves the same question--had that love awakened once -more in her bosom and forced her to fly with him; or--dreadful -thought!--had he in some way been able to wreak his vengeance on her -for having told the story of his imposture to her own people?</p> - -<p class="normal">We were soon to know.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h4> - -<h5>THE REWARD OF A TRAITOR</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">One thing there was to be done ere we quitted the Indian encampment. -It was to try and bring away with us those who, alas! poor souls, had -come there as white prisoners and had remained of their own free will, -becoming savages in all but complexion. We knew that it would be hard -to tear them from those to whom they had attached themselves. We knew -that girls, who should have grown up to become the wives of sturdy -English colonists or trappers, had stayed willingly with the Indians -to become their squaws and the mothers of their dusky children. We -remembered Anuza's air of confidence when he told us how he doubted of -our being able to persuade them to return with us. Yet we hoped. How -our hopes succeeded you shall see.</p> - -<p class="normal">We had remarked from our first arrival that there were no signs of any -white people amongst the Indians of the various tribes who dwelt here -together. Yet they had been eagerly sought for. Men from Pomfret and -the small holdings round about it had scanned the stained and painted -faces they gazed down upon while the fight between Anuza and Senamee -had been taking place, in the hopes--perhaps, in some cases, the -fears--that underneath those dreadful pigments the might recognise the -features of some long lost kinsman or kinswoman. And even I, knowing -the stories of those who had been carried off at various periods and -had never returned, had whispered to Joice, asking her if she could -see any whom she had ever known as children dwelling near her? But she -had only shaken her head and answered that she could see none, and -that she almost prayed she should not do so. And I knew why she thus -hoped none would be forthcoming; I knew that, to her tender heart, it -would be more painful to see these renegades than to gaze upon those -who were born savages and had never known the blessings of dwelling in -a Christian community.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now she had to see them.</p> - -<p class="normal">At a sign from Anuza an Indian servant went forth amongst the tents -and wigwams, returning presently followed by three women--white! Yes, -white, in spite of the stained skin, the Indian trappings of fringed -moccasins and gaiters, of quills and beads and feathers, and of -dressed fawn-skin tunics. Who could doubt it who saw above two of -their heads the fair yellow hair of the northern European woman--was -it some feminine vanity that had led them to keep this portion of -their original English beauty untampered with?--and above that of the -other the chestnut curls which equally plainly told that in her veins -there ran no drop of savage blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">As they stepped towards us, casting glances of no friendly nature at -those of their own race, one of the women, young and comely and -leading by her hand a child, went directly towards Anuza and, -embracing him, disposed herself at his feet while the child played -with the great hand that, but a few hours ago, had slain Senamee. -Her form was lithe and graceful--in that she might have been Indian -born--upon her head glistened her yellow hair which the Bear softly -stroked; her garb was rich though barbaric. It consisted of a -fawn-skin, bleached so white that it might have been samite, that -reached below the knee, and it was fringed with beads and white -shells. Her leggings were also of some white material but softer; her -moccasins were stained red and fringed also with shells.</p> - -<p class="normal">She turned her eyes up at Anuza--we saw that they were hazel ones, -soft and clear--and spake some words to him in a whisper, and then was -heard his answer:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My beloved," he said, "those whom you see around us are of your race, -and we have sworn but now eternal peace with them--a peace that must -never more be broken. Yet to ensure that peace we have granted one -request to the pale faces; we have consented that, if those who dwell -with us, yet are of their land, desire to leave us and go back with -them, they are free to do so. Do you desire thus to return?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To return!" she said, looking first with amazement at him and then at -us, "to return and leave you? Oh! Anuza, Anuza! My heart's dearest -love!" while, as she spoke, she embraced the knee against which she -reclined.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You see," he said to us, "you see. And as it is with her so will it -be with the others. Yet make your demand if you will."</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas! all was in vain. In vain that Joice and Miss Mills pleaded with -them as women sometimes can plead with their sisters for their -good--what could they hope to effect? If they implored them to return -to their own people they were answered that they could not leave their -husbands, for so they spoke of the chiefs to whom they were allied. If -they asked them to return to Christianity the reply was that their -husbands' faith was their faith. It was hopeless, and soon we knew it -to be so. The lives they led now were the only lives they had any -knowledge of--their earlier ones at home, amongst their own people, -were forgotten if they had ever understood them; their very parents, -they told us, were but the shadow of a memory.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, therefore," asked the fairest complexioned of them all, she who -was the squaw of the Bear and the mother of his child, "should we go -back to those we know not of, even though they be still alive? Will -your faith, which preaches that a woman shall leave all to cleave unto -her husband, ask me to leave mine and my child and go back to I know -not what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth," I heard one old colonist whisper to O'Rourke, who stood by -his side, "there would be none for her to go back to. I do think she -is the child of Martin Peake, who was stolen when a babe, and, if so, -her father has been long since dead. Her mother lived until a year ago -hoping ever that she might return, looking up the lane that led to the -woods with wistful eyes, as though she might perhaps see her coming -back at last; even keeping her little room ready against her coming. -Yet it was never to be, and she died with her longing ungratified," -and the man dashed his rough hand across his eyes as he spoke, while I -saw that those of the old adventurer also filled with tears as he -listened. Then he said softly: "I can understand. I once had a -daughter whom I loved dearly and--and she is dead and gone from me. -Yet better so, far better than to be like this."</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore it was not to be! They refused to come with us, and set the -love for their savage mates against all entreaties on our part. Nor -could we find it in our hearts to blame them. We remembered other -marriages that had taken place in earlier days between red and white; -we recalled the union of John Rolfe with the Princess Pocahontas, as -well as many more, and we knew that most of them had been happy. What -could we do but cease to plead and go in peace?</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus we set out again on our road to Pomfret, and, although some of -the party were going back to ruined homes, I think that even so they -were content. For, in so rich and wooded a land as this fertile -Virginia, houses might soon be repaired and made whole again, crops -easily brought to bear once more, and cattle replaced. And, against -any loss that had been incurred, there was always the great set-off of -peace with the Indians and security. All knew in that band--for well -were they acquainted with their foes of old--that, during at least the -present generation, the tribes would keep their word; if they made war -again it would not be during our time. The Indian had not yet learned -the art of lying--he was still uncivilised!</p> - -<p class="normal">These did endeavour to offer some reparation for the wrong they had -done the colony; they brought forth skins and furs, ornaments such as -they deemed might prove acceptable, weapons, and, in some few -instances, trinkets, gold, and precious stones--got we knew not -whence--which they piled on the ground and bade us take, saying they -had no more. But no man took aught from them, and so, after Kinchella -had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving for our release and another -that, if not now, at least at some future date, these poor heathens -might be gathered into the true fold, we set forth. And never more did -one of our party lay eyes upon any of those tribes again. As they had -vowed, so the vow was kept.</p> - -<p class="normal">As we rode on we could not but wonder what would be the fate of my -wretched cousin, the author of all the woe that had recently befallen -the, until now, happy little settlement.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That they will find him and slay him," said Gregory, who knew much of -their ways, "is certain. It is impossible he should escape or they -forgive. Well, vile as he is, God help him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Amen," said Joice, as she rode by my side. "Amen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," said the old hunter, who had recognised Anuza's squaw, "he -may strike the southern trail and make for the Seminoles; they hate -all the Alleghany tribes like poison. If he could get them to listen -to him, and promised to lead them up to their encampment, he might yet -join on to them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never," said Mr. Byrd. "He would have to join in the fight not shirk -from it in the garb of a medicine chief. Amongst the Red Sticks<a name="div4Ref_06" href="#div4_06"><sup>[6]</sup></a> -every man fights, and fighting is not his cue."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I can't fathom," remarked another, "is how the white girls never -found him out. They should have known their own kind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be," Gregory said, "that he kept himself ever apart. His squaw -was Indian, and, for his knowledge of our tongue, why! that he would -attribute to a gift from his precious Sun God. Doubtless he told them -he knew all tongues."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the girls," said Mr. Byrd, "were stolen when they were children. -They could never have known--my God!" he exclaimed, breaking off, -"what is that?" while, with his finger, he pointed to a sight that -froze all our blood with horror.</p> - -<p class="normal">We had reached the bend of a small river which joined, later on, the -James, and were passing one side of it, a flat, muddy shore. On the -other side there arose a stiff, almost perpendicular, bank, beneath -which the river flowed; a bank that rose some seventy to eighty feet -above the water's level. And here it was that we saw that which was so -terrible to look upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fixed into the earth was a long pole, or spar, of Virginian pine; -attached to that pole was the naked body of a man--or was it the body -of what had once been a man? It was bound to the staff by a cord of -wampum, the arms were bound to it above the head by yet a second cord; -plunged into the heart was an Indian knife, the hilt glistening in the -rays of the evening sun. But worse, far worse to see than this--which -we could do with ease since the stream was but a narrow one--was that -the body was already nearly consumed with swarms nay, myriads--of huge -ants that had crept up to it by the pole, and were already feeding on -it so ravenously that, in a few more hours, there could be nothing -left but the skeleton. Indeed, already our dilated eyes could see that -the flesh of the lower limbs was gone--devoured; of the feet and legs -there was naught left but the bones, while the body and the face were -black with the host of venomous ants preying on them, so that the -features could not be distinguished.</p> - -<p class="normal">The women shrieked and hid their faces while the men sat appalled on -their horses. Then with, as it seemed, one impulse, all but one of the -latter dismounted and, wading through the stream that now, after the -long drought, was but knee-deep, rushed at the steep bank and -endeavoured to ascend it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The impulse that so prompted all of us, except Kinchella, who remained -with Joice and Miss Mills, was that <i>we guessed who and what that -awful figure had once been</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first we could find no foothold by which to ascend; we strived in -vain, we even endeavoured to dig out steps with our swords and hands; -it was all unavailing. We should, indeed, have returned, desisting -from our labour, had not at this moment one of the trappers espied, -lower down, a slight path leading to the summit, a path doubtless used -by the Indians when in the neighbourhood. And so, gaining that path, -we reached the level above and drew near the horrid thing.</p> - -<p class="normal">No need to ask who the creature had once been; all was answered by one -quick glance. At the foot of the pole, at the foot of the thing -itself, there lay a fawn-skin tunic and a silken cloak on which were -wrought stars and moons and snakes, and a great blazing Sun, the -insignia, or totems, of the false medicine man.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, how had the deed been done? The Indians whom he had outraged and -deceived lay far behind us in the mountains; they, therefore, could -not have been his executioners. We had not far to seek ere this was -discovered too. The crest of the bank was higher than the level behind -it, which sloped downwards away from the river, and thus, when we -stood on the other side, we could not see all that lay below that -crest.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now we saw, and, seeing, understood.</p> - -<p class="normal">Near him, yet so far away that the venomous ants had not yet, at -least, reached it, there was another body--the body of a woman. It lay -on its back, the eyes staring up to the heavens, the tunic torn open -at the left breast and in that breast another dagger buried, which -still the right hand of the woman, an Indian, grasped and held as firm -as when she struck herself her death blow.</p> - -<p class="normal">So we knew all! We knew that he had escaped the vengeance of the tribe -only to die at the hands of the woman who had loved him once, and -whose love he had thought to replace--the hands of the woman who, -having saved his life at the outset, had taken it from him when he was -false to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">And thus he perished, not by the hands of those from whom he was -fleeing, but by those of Lamimi, his slighted and forsaken squaw.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_IV" href="#div1Ref_IV">PART IV</a></h4> - -<h4>THE NARRATIVE OF<br> -JOICE BAMPFYLD CONTINUED</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h4> - -<h5>HOMEWARD BOUND</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It took not more than three months to put my house into a liveable -condition once more, for, most happily, the injury which had been done -to it in the Indian raid concerned more the woodwork and the fittings -than aught else. Indeed, while this was a-doing, I also took occasion -to have many improvements made in various portions of the manor that -were sorely needed. Thus, in some of our upstairs rooms, our windows -had in them nothing but oiled paper, while others were furnished with -naught but Muscovy glass or sheets of mica, dating back from the time -of the first Bampfyld who came to the colony. These I now replaced by -crystal glass brought from England for the purpose.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, in spite of changes and, I suppose, improvements, I could not -restrain my tears when first I set eyes on my saloon again. Oh! -how sad it was to see the spinet and the harpsichord broken to -pieces--everything stood exactly as we had left it that night--to see -also my choice Segodia carpets stained with the dried blood that had -been shed, and to observe my window-sashes, with their pretty gildings, -in splinters.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet cheer up, sweetheart," my lord said to me, as, leaning on his -arm, I looked round this ruin and let fall my tears. "It is not -irreparable, and might have been worse. And, when we come back from -England, we will bring such pretty toys and knick-knacks with us that -you shall forget all you have lost. I promise you, sweet, you shall." -After which he strove to kiss away my tears, though still they fell.</p> - -<p class="normal">This took place directly after we had all ridden into the courtyard on -our return from captivity. And when the gentlemen whose houses had -also been attacked as mine had been (including poor Gregory, who -seemed heart-broken at my having fallen in love, yet not with him), -and the other colonists had dispersed to their own homes, or what -remained of them, we had instantly begun to inspect the damage done. -Of the negroes we could discover no signs, though Buck and young Lamb -searched the whole house from the cellars to the garrets for them, the -former roaring many terrible threats and strange ejaculations at their -heads in the hopes they might be in hiding and, on hearing him, come -forth; but all was of no avail. Nor, when they searched in the late -slaves' and bond-servants' quarters were they any more successful. -Christian Lamb, my own maid, soon, however, re-appeared, she having -remained in the house the whole time, and though her brother swore at -her for a chicken-hearted wench and called her many other hard names, -such as traitress and deserter, I was most thankful to see her again, -she being a good, faithful creature, though timorous.</p> - -<p class="normal">From her we learned that after the departure of O'Rourke and my dear -lord--the former of whom was now engaged in finding provisions for us, -if any remained--the negroes had all sallied forth in a body towards -the coast, some with the intention of escaping from their servitude -and the others to find a home until I returned, if ever, of which they -seemed most doubtful. After this, she told us, the house had been -quite deserted, there being none in it but herself--the other white -indented servant women having also betaken themselves to the village -for safety. Yet she determined to remain until she heard some news of -us and of the party that had set forth to rescue us. Moreover, her -alarm was lessened by the fact that a squadron of the Virginian Light -Horse, from Jamestown, had come into the village with a view of -following us and effecting a rescue if possible, but, on learning that -a considerable band had set out for the purpose, they had decided to -remain where they were, for the present, at least, and to await -results.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, when at the end of those months my house was once more fit -for habitation, and when all signs of the horrible attack that had -been made on it had been removed, Gerald, coming to me one evening -when I was sitting by my wood fire--for the evenings were turning -chilly--said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dearest, are you ready? The time draws near."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Must it be so soon?" I asked coyly, and with a blush upon my cheeks -that was not caused by the blaze of the logs. "Must it be now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In very truth it must," he answered. "I must away to England as -swiftly as may be. See here, sweet, what I have found at Jamestown -to-day." Then with one arm round my waist, he drew forth with his -disengaged hand a packet of letters from his pocket and began to read -them to me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Marquis," he said first, "grows old, nay, has grown old; he is -seventy-five if an hour. List what he says," and continued his reading -of a letter from that noble kinsman:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would have you here ere I die so that I may publicly announce you -as my heir, and this I will do in my own house when you return, though -even then I can of no certainty promise that the Lords will enrol you -as such immediately after my death, since they are not so easily -persuaded as their brothers in Dublin. Yet come, I say, come as soon -as may be. Your mother, too, grows more feeble, worn almost to her -grave by the slanders which your uncle and the man Considine--who -scruples not to say openly that you are none other than <i>his</i> -son--puts about you; and in truth I do think these calumnies will kill -her ere long. She rages terribly against them both, and calls on me -and many of the peers in power to punish them; yet what are we to do?" -"The vile wretches!" I exclaimed, as I nestled close to him. "Oh! the -vile wretches! Oh! my darling, that thus your birthright should be so -assailed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet will I have vengeance," he exclaimed, while his eyes glowed with -resentment. "Yet shall the fellow Considine regret that he has ever -dared to call me his son. His--his. God! My uncle's drunken pander!" -and for a while his rage was terrible to witness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, taking up another letter, he said, "This also I found at -Jamestown to-day. It is from her, from my mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">She, too, wrote saying how earnestly she desired that he might soon be -able to return home, and more especially so as she heard that the -fleet under Sir Chaloner Ogle was about to do so. Then, after -mentioning somewhat the same news as the Marquis had done, she went -on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! my dearest child, can'st thou picture to thyself all the horrors -that I have endured since first you were impressed and torn away from -me again, after our short but happy meeting? I think it cannot be that -you do so. For five years have I, with my wasted frame and ill health -ever to contend against, pleaded your cause, worked hard to produce -evidence of your birth, and was even so successful with the Marquis's -aid as to defeat your vile uncle in the Irish courts and induce the -Lords there to enrol you as Lord St. Amande. Yet, as I have thus -striven, think of what else I have had to fight against. That most -abhorred and execrable villain, Wolfe Considine, has thrown away the -mask--if he ever wore it--and has now for two or three years boldly -said--God! how can I write the words?--that when your erring father -was petitioning the House of Lords for a divorce I was his, -Considine's, friend, and that you are his son."</p> - -<p class="normal">The paper shook in my loved one's hands as he read these words, and he -muttered, "Considine, Considine, if ever you come within the point of -my sword it shall go hard with you," and then went on with the perusal -of the letter:</p> - -<p class="normal">"That no one believes him--for none do so--matters not. The odium is -still the same, and there are some in existence who remember how, at -Bath and Tunbridge Wells, ere I had met your father, the wretch -persecuted me with his attentions, which I loathed. Also, I remember -that, on my becoming affianced to your father, he swore that I should -rue it and regret it on my knees, even though he had to wait twenty -years for his revenge. Alas! alas! I have rued it and regretted it -again and again, though not as he intended. Yet, my child, and only -one, if I could but see you properly acknowledged as the Marquis's -heir and as such accepted, then would I forget my rue, then could I -die happy--the end is not far off now. But ere that end comes, oh! my -child, my child of many tears, come back to me, I beseech you. Let me -once more clasp you to my arms and let me hear your kinsman proclaim -you as his successor. It is for that I wait, for that I long -unceasingly."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was more in her letter saying, amongst other things, how Mr. -Quin, whom afterwards I came to know and to respect most deeply, never -slackened in his watchfulness over her; of how he was always in -attendance on her and what services he performed for her. But what he -had read was sufficient.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must go to England, Gerald," I said; "at all costs, you must go. -Will the Admiral give you leave?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He laughed aloud at this, saying: "Will the Admiral give me leave? -Why, Joice, Sir Chaloner Ogle sailed a month ago, leaving me ere he -went his consent to my being absent as long as necessary on urgent -private affairs. He knows well how I stand, and wishes me well, too. -And, dear heart, as you say, I must go--only I will not go alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">I well understood his meaning yet could find no answer to his words. -So again he went on whispering them in my ear. "No, not alone. My wife -must go with me. And, Joice, to-night I will tell Kinchella to make -all ready, to proclaim our banns, and to prepare to make us one. It -shall be so, my sweet saint, my tender Virginian rose, my heart's best -and only love; it shall be so, shall it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">What could I say but yes--what other answer make? No woman who had -loved him as I had loved him (even ere I knew him, I think)--no woman -who had dreamt of his sad story and then come to know him and see his -beauty and grace and his fierce bravery exacted on her behalf, but -must have answered yes, as I did. For he was all a woman's heart most -longs for; all that she most aspires to possess; handsome and brave, -yet gentle; fierce as the lion when roused, yet how tender and how -true. So I whispered "Yes," and murmured my love to him and the -compact was made; our fond troth plighted again with many a kiss.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in the old church, from the wooden tower of which the cannon -had been fired so often on that dreadful night of death and horror, -that we were married. As was the custom of the colony--though one, I -think, that might well be changed--the minister took the first kiss -from me, while my husband kissed my bridesmaid, Mary, and afterwards I -had to submit to being kissed by every gentleman present, while all -the while I wanted no other embrace than that of my dear lord. Yet it -had to be borne, and one of the first to avail himself of this -privilege was Gregory, who kissed me sadly, saying as he did so:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Joice, 'twas otherwise I had hoped some day to kiss thy sweet -brow. Yet 'twas not to be and so I must bear it as best I may," and he -passed sadly down the aisle and away home, tarrying not for the -drinkings nor merry-makings that afterwards set in. But, poor lad, he -struggled with his love for me so well that at last he conquered it, -and certainly his disappointment made no difference in his friendship -for me or my husband. During our absence in England he managed my -property as carefully as though it had been his own, and regularly -sent us an exact account of all he had done, so that 'twas easy to -see, and to admire in seeing, that his unaccepted love had not made an -enemy of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Kinchella and Mary Mills we saw married a week after our own -nuptials, so we left them also happy and content--which was a great -joy to us to do. O'Rourke, too, we parted from as friends part from -one another, he setting out for Savannah where he purposed to instal -himself as agent of Mr. Oglethorpe and bidding us an affectionate -farewell ere doing so. He also made an affidavit before an attorney at -Jamestown of all he knew of the villainies of Robert St. Amande and -the wretch Considine, and swore as well that, from the intimate -knowledge he had of my lord's family, and also from having had him -once in his charge, the Viscount St. Amande was most undoubtedly the -lawfully born child of the late lord. Moreover, he also swore (and -produced letters from Considine proving his oath, which letters he -gave to Gerald) that, during the separation of Lady St. Amande from -her husband, he, Considine, was living an outlaw at Hamburg with a -price upon his head, so that he could never have even seen her during -that time.</p> - -<p class="normal">The overseers of the bond-servants being, like all the others, free -men now, were provided with means whereby either to establish -themselves in the colony or to go elsewhere, though they, in common -with the others, elected to remain as hired hands on my estate during -my absence. Buck, however, who seemed never to have lost his -rollicking disposition, being also provided with some money wherewith -to adventure on his own account, bought the lease of the tavern in the -village, and changed its name from that of the King's Head to the St. -Amande Arms. Lamb, who had once been a sailor, became again one, while -his sister, Christian, took passage with us to England as my maid.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX</a></h4> - -<h5>IN THE LAND WHERE THEIR FATHERS DWELT</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">How shall I, brought up a plain colonial maiden, who had never seen -anything more grand than the opening of our Virginian Assembly by the -Governor, nor anything more of great life than an assembly ball or the -meeting together of our first families at the races, dare to describe -the wonders and splendours of London. For wonderful and splendid -everything was, and marvellous to behold. From where we were at first -installed until the Marquis could arrive in London from his country -seat, namely, a busy inn called the Hercules Pillars, at Hyde Park -Corner, a spot which my dear father had often told me was the centre -of fashion, I saw so much going on that my head was ever in a whirl. -Here from morn till night, under the balcony of our sitting-room -windows, went on such a clatter and a dashing by of vehicles, -including the fast coaches coming in and going out of London, and of -huge carriages and carts and horses, that there was no peace, though, -in dear truth, I loved to lean over that balcony and watch the -turmoil. In the early November mornings--for 'twas that month ere we -reached London--first would come lumbering by great carts piled high -with vegetables, all of which, my lord said, London would have eaten -up by nightfall--a thing not wonderful to understand, seeing that it -was asserted that there were nearly half a million people in the town, -or one-twelfth part of the whole country. Then great droves of beasts -would pass, and sometimes--oh! sad sight--a wretched highwayman with -his hands tied behind his back and escorted by the thief-catchers, -while the passers-by hooted at him or beat at him with sticks and -whips, or flung refuse at him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Such was Buck once," Gerald would say when he saw one of these; "and, -perhaps O'Rourke, though I think he was more the spy. Ah! well, it is -better to be honest men in Virginia or Georgia than like this."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as the day went on, and a poor, thin sun struggled out of the -mist, making some brightness around, there would ride forth gentlemen -who were going a-hunting at Richmond, or Hampton, or Hounslow, very -splendid in their coats. Others, too, would come down to ride in the -park most beautifully dressed, and some would stroll along on foot, -talking and laughing, and bowing to ladies in their chaises, or taking -off their hats to a portly bishop who passed our inn every morning in -a coach and six. And sometimes, too, a great lady or so would also go -by in her coach and six, with, seated on the steps outside, a page, or -sometimes a little black boy with a silver chain around his neck, and -I never understood then why Gerald would pull me back into the room as -though he wished me not to see these dames. Yet, when I learnt -afterwards that one was the Countess of Suffolk and another the horrid -woman, Melusina Schulemberg, I did comprehend his reason. And, even in -the three days we lay at this inn, I learnt to hate the latter, for, -going past one morning, she observed my handsome Gerald on the balcony -and kissed her hand to him--as they say she did to any well-favoured -gentleman she saw--and afterwards always peered out of the carriage as -though seeking for him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Soon, however, my pleasures of witnessing the bustle of this place -came to an end. One dull November morning there drove up to the door -of the Hercules Pillars a great coach and six, all emblazoned with -coats-of-arms and decorated with rich hangings and much gilding, with, -before it, three panting footmen, who, poor creatures, had always to -run in front of it, and with, seated within it, a grave and -soberly-clad gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," exclaimed Gerald, who did not share my surprise at this -gorgeous and, it seemed to me, sinfully extravagant spectacle--for -why could not the gentleman travel as we do in Virginia, either -a-horseback or on foot! "Why! 'Tis the Marquis. Joice, go, put on thy -best dress--no! stay just as you are; faith, you are fair enough to -charm any man." And then he ran downstairs to meet his kinsman and -presently brought him to our parlour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is my wife, my lord," he said, presenting me to him, "of the -family of Bampfyld, of Virginia."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon the Marquis bowed to me with most stately grace in reply to my -curtsey, and, taking my hand, kissed it. "Madam," he said, "we are -honoured by an alliance with you. There is no better English blood -than that of the Bampfylds, and sure there can be no fairer woman than -the Lady St. Amande. Are all women as fair as your ladyship in the -colonies?"</p> - -<p class="normal">I simpered and blushed and knew not what to say, when Gerald diverted -his attention by exclaiming, with a smile:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her name is Joice, my lord. Will you not, as the head of our family, -thus call her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed I will. Joice--Joice; 'tis a pretty name, and well befits its -pretty owner. And so, <i>Joice</i>," turning to me and speaking as though -he had known me from a child, yet all the time with a most courtly -manner, "you have finally determined to throw in your lot with my -young kinsman, in spite of his troubles?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! sir," I said; "oh! my lord, what woman who had ever seen or known -him could refuse to love him? And I owe him my life; I would lay it -down for him now if he willed it. He fought for me and mine, ay! shed -his dear blood for me. I have a dress at home all stained with it -which I will never part with. He sought for me amongst my capturers -and would have rescued me if they had not been mercifully disposed; he -was as a god in my eyes, and now he is my husband and I love him more -than aught else upon this earth. Oh! sir, I do love him so."</p> - -<p class="normal">Both he and Gerald smiled gently at my ardour, which, indeed, I could -not repress, and then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless, Joice, doubtless. 'Tis perhaps not strange. And, child, -you wish to see him righted thoroughly; is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, indeed, my lord!" I cried, "such is ever my fervent prayer. -Yes, morning, noon, and night. And, surely, since the Irish Lords have -acknowledged his right to the title he bears, those in England will -not refuse to regard him as your heir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must do our best. Yet, even if they will not give him my title -when I am gone, I can do much for him. Providence hath greatly -benefited me. There is much I can bequeath to him, and, for the rest, -I can provide that if he gets it not none other shall. Above all, the -Scoundrel Robert shall never have it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless you!" my husband and I exclaimed. "God bless you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, listen," he continued, "to what I propose. Your mother follows -me but a few stages behind--poor Louise! she is marvellously stirred -at the thought of seeing her son again--and when she is arrived in -town this is what I will do. 'Tis what I intended five years ago, had -not Sir Chaloner's men impressed you and made a sailor of you. I will -have a meeting of many peers of my acquaintance--Sir Robert"--he meant -the great Sir Robert Walpole--"has promised that he will come as well -as some others who will be useful--and then I will publicly -acknowledge you as my successor. But," he went on, "there is something -else to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">Gerald looked enquiringly at him as though doubtful as to what he was -about to say, when the Marquis again took up the word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The two scoundrels, Robert St. Amande and Wolfe Considine, must be -brought to bay; above all, the latter must be made to retract the -villainous falsehoods he has spread about your mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, retract!" interrupted Gerald, hotly, "retract. He shall, indeed, -or I will tear his lying tongue----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay!" said his kinsman, putting up his hand. "Nay, hear me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I ask your lordship's pardon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is my plan, agreed to by your injured mother. They are both in -London now, ever spreading their calumnies about, though I hear that -none heed them, and Robert St. Amande endeavours unsuccessfully to -borrow money on what he terms his succession. Now, we have decided to -ask both these men to attend at my house on the same morning on which -I intend to proclaim you--only they are not to know that there will be -any other persons present but themselves. Thus, they will suddenly -find that they are surrounded by auditors, as well as some witnesses -who knew you in your childhood. There will be, also, the papers you -have forwarded me signed and testified to by O'Rourke, and by these -means we hope either to extort the truth from them, or at least so to -strike terror to them, that they shall prevaricate and contradict -their own lying statements. And, remember, there will be a strong -array against them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The idea is most excellent," exclaimed Gerald. "Surely thus they must -be beaten down. And will my mother be there, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your mother will be there, but her presence will be unknown to them. -Yet she vows that, if Considine does not deny before all assembled the -wickedness of the slanders he has put about, she will come forward and -confront him and dare him to utter them to her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twill be a terrible ordeal for her," my husband said. "Heaven grant -she may be able to endure it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will endure it; she will so string herself up that none regarding -her will be able to imagine her a weak woman who sometimes cannot -raise herself even from her bed. Yet, since she has dwelt under my -care----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For which I say again God bless you--for that and all the other -luxuries and comforts you have surrounded her with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but little," replied the Marquis. "And she is desolate and the -mother of my heir. 'Tis nothing. But, as I say, since she hath been -with me I have seen some most marvellous moments of recovery with her, -moments when she would suddenly exclaim that she was once more well -and strong. And, to show me that she was so, she would lift some great -weight or walk up and down her chamber a dozen times, yet ever -afterwards there came directly a relapse when she would again sink -into her chair helpless as a babe once more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said my husband thoughtfully, "so have I seen her too. Nor do I -doubt that if she stands face to face with that craven hound, she will -lack no strength to cow him."</p> - -<p class="normal">In a little while you shall see that that strength was not lacking, -you shall see how it was exerted against the miserable wretch who had -blighted her life. But the place to tell it is not here.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the Marquis bade us prepare to accompany him to that great -mansion of his in Lincoln's Inn Fields, of which my dear lord had told -me; and, ere long, Gerald's servant and Christian Lamb between them -had packed up our effects, we going in the gorgeous emblazoned coach -and they following in a hackney. As we went I observed how great a man -this noble kinsman of ours was, for many, both gentle and simple, -raised their hats to the carriage as it passed along, and in the great -square, which they call the Fields, there was quite a concourse to -witness our arrival; the poor people shouting for the noble Marquis -and cheering the Government, while his running footmen threw, by his -orders, some silver pieces amongst them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, 'twas indeed a joyful day!--joyful in many ways--for, besides -showing to us that which truly I had never had any doubts of, namely, -that the Marquis of Amesbury was all for Gerald and determined, if he -could, to right him, it brought together that poor mother and son who -had so often and so long been parted. Nor could I restrain my tears, -nor fail to weep for joy, as I saw them folded once more in each -other's arms, and heard her whisper her love and fondness for him and -murmur that, at last, they would never more be parted in this world.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never more be parted in this world." That was what she said. "Never -more to be parted in this world." Verily she spake as a prophet, or as -one who could divine the future.</p> - -<p class="normal">And there was still one other meeting that took place which joyed my -heart to see. 'Twas that of my husband and his faithful, old friend, -Mr. Quin; the man who had sheltered him when he was a beggar, who had -been as a father or an elder brother to him, and who, when 'twas no -longer possible that he should serve Gerald, had transferred his -honest, faithful allegiance to Gerald's mother. It pleasured me, I -say, to see those two embrace each other, to hear my husband call him -his old friend and protector, and to see the joy upon the other's face -as he returned that embrace and told him how handsome he had grown and -how noble-looking a man he had become.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h4> - -<h5>FACE TO FACE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">All were assembled in the great saloon, or withdrawing-room, of the -Marquis's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">The day had come for that nobleman to acknowledge his kinsman, Lord -St. Amande, as his heir before all men.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis of Amesbury sat at a table near the fireplace, on which -lay, amongst other things, the papers that O'Rourke had signed and -sworn to, the certificates of Gerald's birth and of his enrolment by -Ulster King-of-Arms as the Viscount St. Amande in the peerage of -Ireland, several affidavits from nurses and tutors to whom the lad had -been put in the country, stating that the child delivered to them was -always spoken of by the late lord as his son; and many other -documents. At the end of the room were three witnesses who had been -brought over from Ireland to testify that, to their certain knowledge -and belief, Gerald was the lad they had known as the late lord's son. -One of these witnesses was the Protestant clergyman of New Ross, now a -very aged man; another was the steward of the estate where Gerald had -been born; a third the nurse who had had him in charge from his -earliest hours and had identified him by the marks upon his body.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next to the Marquis, and on his right hand, Gerald was placed, and -next to him I sat. On his left was no less a personage than the -renowned Sir Robert Walpole, who had now ruled the country for many -years, after having triumphed over all his enemies--even those who had -had him dismissed from the Parliament and committed to the Tower. He -was a man who, had one met him in the street, they would have been -disposed to regard more as a jolly, beef-loving squire in London for a -week's shopping and sight-seeing, than aught else. There, too, was -William, third Duke of Devonshire--a courtly, grave gentleman, who had -not yet, or barely, reached the prime of life; Lord Trevor and many -others, to all of whom I was presented as the Lady St. Amande and -future Marchioness of Amesbury. All greeted me most courteously, -asking me many questions as to our colony and especially as to its -loyalty, of which I was able to testify proudly, though I know not if -I might have said as much of some of the more northern ones. The -extremely polite, also, made me many compliments and, in their -fashionable jargon, exclaimed that they trusted, now that I had shed -the light of my eyes upon the mother country, I should never withdraw -it wholly again. But these speeches I regarded only as foolishness and -scarce worth answering.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the Marquis, addressing them, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lords and gentlemen and my good friends, you know what we are -assembled here for. 'Tis for me to present you to my kinsman and heir. -That I have already done individually; later on I shall ask you as a -body to testify your willingness to acknowledge him as such. But -first, and ere that is done, I wish to expose to you two villains--one -of them, alas! also near to me in blood--who have long stood in the -path of his lordship, who have endeavoured in every way to thwart his -honest endeavours to come by his own, and who, in those endeavours, -have assailed the fair fame of his mother, Louise, Dowager Viscountess -St. Amande, who sits now behind that organ." And the Marquis pointed -to a great organ made by Geisler of Salzburg in 1650, and brought by -his father from there when making the grand tour.</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas there, indeed, that she had placed herself, being unwilling to -be more regarded than was necessary, either by those who knew of her -unhappy married days or who had known her in the full pride of her -beauty. But as she had taken this place, where she could easily -overhear all that passed, she had again reiterated her assertion that, -should the two calumniators persist in their falsehoods and vile -assertions, she would endeavour so to nerve herself to the task as to -drag herself forward and confront them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To expose those villains, my lords and gentlemen," went on the -Marquis, "this is what I have done. I have summoned Robert St. Amande -to this house to-day--it wants but a quarter of an hour to the time -when he should arrive," pointing to the great clock over the -fireplace, "and I have requested him to come provided with the proofs -which he says he can bring forward establishing his claim to be my -successor. My lords, he has fallen into the snare, he has notified to -me that he will be here at midday with Mr. Considine, his friend and -secretary, when he will advance such proofs, as he states, that Lord -St. Amande is not entitled to the rank he usurps, and desires in -future to usurp, that he, Robert, must be the right and lawful heir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was not this Mr. Wolfe Considine once proscribed?" asked a gentleman -sitting near, who was no other than His Majesty's Attorney-General, -Sir Philip Yorke. "It appears to me I know his name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was proscribed in 1710 for most treasonable practices and fled to -Hamburg, where he was supported by the Jacobites, but, on the -accession of His late Majesty, he, with many others, obtained a -withdrawal of that proscription on swearing allegiance to the House of -Hanover. But, my lords and gentlemen, I will call your attention to -the fact that this proscription entirely proves the grossness of the -lie he asserts, that he is the father of Lord St. Amande, since he -could not have been in England for some long time either before or -after his lordship's birth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is this Mr. Robert St. Amande's only ground on which to base his -claim to both titles--Lord St. Amande's and yours?" asked Sir Robert -Walpole.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be of little effect if it were," exclaimed the -Attorney-General, "since, even if true, his lordship must have been -born in wedlock." And he took up a document to assure himself of the -date of the marriage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He advances many other statements," continued the Marquis, "all of -which he says he is prepared to prove, when called upon to do so, -before the House of Lords. Doubtless he will bring forward some of -these to-day, but, ere he comes, I desire to tell you that, in so -coming, he imagines he will meet no one but myself. When, therefore, -he and his precious comrade are admitted, you may be well prepared to -see him exhibit many marks of surprise and consternation, in which -state we hope to show him in his true colours. And, my lords and -gentlemen, it is for this reason that I have ventured to have your -carriages and coaches sent to the other side of the Fields until -required, so that they, amongst other things, shall not scare the -birds away."</p> - -<p class="normal">There arose a murmur of amusement at these precautions on the part of -his lordship, who went on to explain that his footmen had also -received their orders for conducting the expected visitors into the -presence of those here assembled; and then, as the clock solemnly -struck the hour, all sat waiting for the arrival of those two -conspirators. And, I think, with the exception of Sir Robert Walpole, -who shut his eyes as though about to indulge in a refreshing sleep, -and the Duke of Devonshire, who conversed with Gerald and me on the -state of the Indians in the colonies and seemed much interested -therein, all present were greatly agitated at the impending meeting. -Once I saw the sweet, sad face of my mother-in-law glance from behind -the organ and smile at Gerald, as though bidding him be of good -cheer--as, indeed, he well might be in this fair company, all so well -disposed towards him; and several times Sir Philip Yorke muttered -"Humph!" and "Ha!" as he turned over carefully the mass of papers -before him and occasionally whispered a word to the Marquis.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That was a precious plot," I heard him say, "of Mr. St. Amande's to -get his nephew shipped to the plantations as a bond-servant. Our -friend, Mr. Quin, seems to have outwitted him neatly. What did you say -became of the other--the one called--humph! Robinson--nay, Roderick?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He died a fearful, terrible death," replied the Marquis, "after he -left the service of her father," indicating me. Then he went on to -tell him the history of that unhappy man while many of us glanced at -the clock. They were already fifteen minutes late--'twas fifteen -minutes after twelve--could they intend not to come?</p> - -<p class="normal">My self-questioning was answered a moment later--through the hall -there rang a violent peal upon the bell, as though the hand which -caused it was a fierce, masterful one; and clearly could we hear a -harsh voice exclaim:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Show the way and announce us. Follow, Considine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My uncle," whispered Gerald to me. "Now prepare to see two of the -wickedest rascals unhung."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Viscount St. Amande," said the great footman, regarding the -company, as I thought, with a bewildered air--doubtless he wondered -how there could be two persons bearing the same title--"and Mr. Wolfe -Considine," and a moment afterwards the new comers were before us.</p> - -<p class="normal">The one whom I soon knew to be Robert St. Amande bore nothing in his -features that seemed to me remarkable or to indicate a villain, unless -it was a terrible scowl and a most fierce, piercing pair of black -eyes. He was solemnly clad; indeed, he was in deep mourning for his -second wife, who had been carried off but recently by that dreadful -scourge the smallpox, so that there was no colour about him. His -companion also wore black--I suppose for his master's wife--and was -naught else but an ignoble copy of that master. Gazing on him, and -observing the insolent leer upon his face, his tawdry attempts at -finery even in his mourning, such as his steel-hilted sword inlaid -with brass, his imitation lace fal-lal neckerchief, and silver -shoe-buckles, I could well believe that here was an adventurer and -outcast who might easily be suborned and bribed to swear any lie for a -handful of guineas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," exclaimed Robert St. Amande, as he cast his scowling glances -round the room, though even as he so scowled 'twas easy enough to see -that he was much taken aback by the sight of so many persons -assembled, "so, you invite us to meet a great company, my lord Marquis -and kinsman. 'Tis well, very well. Your Grace of Devonshire, I salute -you," accompanying his words with a deep bow, half mock and half -respectful. "And the Premier, as I live! Sir Robert, I am your most -obedient, humble servant. Sir Philip, too; though, sir, you are, I -think, none too well inclined towards me. Well, it must be endured. -And, now, my lord Marquis, in the midst of this gallant company, -enriched by the beauty of this fair lady, whom I know not, may I ask -what your intentions are? Though, indeed, I can but guess that you -have gathered your friends together to witness an act of justice -which, though tardy, you intend to do at last."</p> - -<p class="normal">These swaggering speeches were well enough made and with a surprising -air of confidence--indeed, my lord hath often since said that neither -Wilkes nor Booth, the play-actors, could have surpassed him--yet they -had no effect. The Duke and the great Minister took no notice of his -salutations, while the Attorney-General but shrugged his shoulders -contemptuously at his remarks, and then the Marquis spake, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Robert St. Amande, your guess is indeed most accurate. It is to do an -act of justice at last that I have requested your presence here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis well," the other replied, while he threw himself into a chair, -an act in which he was imitated by his follower. "'Tis well. Proceed, -my lord Marquis."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet as he spake with such assurance, it seemed to me as though he -blanched and turned white.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is, indeed, to do an act of justice at last!" the Marquis -repeated. "Robert St. Amande, it is to present my heir, the future -Marquis of Amesbury, to my political friends that I have summoned them -to-day. My lords and gentlemen and friends," and as he said the words -he laid his hand on Gerald's shoulder and motioned him to rise, "this -is my heir; this is the rightful Lord St. Amande and future possessor -of my rank."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a murmur of applause from all assembled, as well as of -greeting, while Robert St. Amande sprang to his feet, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Him--you present him? That fellow! Why, 'tis none but the self-styled -Gerald St. Amande." And he burst into a contemptuous laugh. "A pretty -heir, that! A child born during a long separation of his father and -mother, ay! a separation of years--if they were ever married at -all----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have a care!" exclaimed Gerald, also springing up from the seat he -had resumed. "Have a care! or even this house shall not protect you -now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I speak what I know. If they were ever married produce the -proofs--and, even though you can do that, you must also prove that -they were not separated for long before your birth. And on <i>that</i> -score I, too, have my witness," and he glanced significantly at Wolfe -Considine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be tranquil, Gerald," exclaimed the Marquis to my husband, who made -as though he would fly at the other's throat, as, indeed, I think he -would have done had it not been for those who interposed between them. -"Calm yourself. There is proof enough here to confound every statement -of his," and he motioned, as he spoke, to the old clergyman from New -Ross, who came forward at his bidding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," exclaimed the Attorney-General, looking up from his papers at -this venerable man, "I have here a certificate of the christening, -signed by you and duly witnessed by the others, of Gerald St. Clair -Nugent St. Amande, son of Viscount St. Amande, of New Ross. Do you -recognise it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," the old clergyman answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the marriage certificate we desire to see," exclaimed Robert St. -Amande. "The birth is not in dispute. What we do dispute is, first the -marriage, then the paternity of the child, and, lastly, the identity -of the person calling himself Gerald St. Amande with the real Gerald -St. Amande, presuming the real Gerald St. Amande to have been lawfully -born."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will endeavour to answer all your demands," Sir Philip Yorke said, -glancing up at him. "Listen."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then in a cold, clear voice, such as I think must have caused many an -unhappy criminal to tremble for fear, he went on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The marriage between the late Viscount St. Amande, bearing himself -the names of Gerald St. Clair Nugent St. Amande, with Louise Honoria -Sheffield, was celebrated on the first of March, in the year of our -Lord seventeen hundred and eight, at the Church of St. Olave's, at -York. The certificate is here. You may see it for yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Robert St. Amande waved his hand, exclaiming, "Since the -Attorney-General testifies to it, who shall dispute it? It proves, -however, nothing against our contention. Proceed, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next we have the testimony of this reverend gentleman as to the birth -and christening. That you cannot dispute with any hope of success. -Here, too, is the woman who took charge of the infant at its birth. -Norah Mackay, of New Ross, come forward."</p> - -<p class="normal">With much fear and nervousness, this elderly woman--she who had first -held my darling in her arms--came up the room, and, dropping many -curtseys, stood before the great lawyer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Norah Mackay," he said, "you state that you remember the marks upon -the neck and left arm of the child christened at New Ross as the -infant son of Viscount and Viscountess St. Amande, in the year -seventeen hundred and eleven?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, your honour's worship."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you have examined the neck and left arm of his lordship here," -indicating Gerald, "and find thereon precisely and exactly the same -marks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, your honour's worship."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You swear to that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I swear to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed Robert St. Amande, "she may swear to it fifty times -an' she will. Doubtless fifty guineas would produce as many oaths. But -such evidence establishes no claim, nor does it prove even then that -my brother begot the brat. And this man here," pointing a lean and -shaking finger at my husband, whose self-control was most marvellous, -"is not that babe, I swear. The babe who was born at New Ross was -drowned in the Liffey in the year 'twenty-seven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," asked Sir Philip Yorke, "if such was the case to your -knowledge, why, in the winter of that year, go out of your way to have -this man whom you deemed an impostor shipped to the colonies to be -sold as a slave in the plantations there? For that you did so -endeavour we have, you know, O'Rourke's sworn testimony; and his -accomplice, as you thought Mr. Quin to be, is in this house to produce -your acquittance to him for so doing."</p> - -<p class="normal">And he fixed his severe eyes on the other as he spoke.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h4> - -<h5>NEMESIS</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Certainly Robert St. Amande looked now like a villain unmasked! All -eyes were fixed upon him as he rolled his own round upon the assembled -company; there was one pair, however, he did not see; the eyes of -Louise, Lady St. Amande, who from behind the great pipes of the organ, -had never ceased to gaze upon him and that other craven villain since -they entered; and that he stood before them most thoroughly exposed he -must have known well. Yet was his bravado such that he still -endeavoured to brazen it all out; he still attempted to assert his -wicked cause. Alas! I cannot think, even now, but that he would have -desisted and have withdrawn ere it was too late could he have foreseen -the dreadful tragedy that his conduct was to produce.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a few seconds he again found his tongue; once more he nerved -himself to address all in that saloon, defiant still and reckless in -the blackness of his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was to have been shipped to the plantations," he said, "not -because I deemed him the rightful Gerald St. Amande, but because I -knew him, even granting him to be the boy born at New Ross, to be -smirched in his birth; because I knew my brother was not his father. -'Twas for the honour of the family; of my family, of yours, my lord -Marquis, that no such child should ever sit in the place of honour. -And wherein did I sin? Your house, my lord, the house in which I hope -some day to sit as Marquis of Amesbury, has ere now refused the right -of peerage to those born in wedlock when 'twas well known that, in -spite of such birth, they had not been lawfully begotten. And that I -knew of him; I know it and proclaim now." As he spoke he glared even -more fiercely than before, so that his looks were terrible to see. -Then he continued, "You, Sir Philip Yorke, you have produced your -proofs to-day and have deemed them overwhelming. Now is the time, now -the hour, for me to produce mine. I do so. You challenge me to bring -forth evidence of the child's paternity other than that of my late -brother. Behold it, then. Here sits the man who is the father of that -other sitting there. 'Tis he, Wolfe Considine, the discarded admirer -of Louise Sheffield before her marriage, the accepted lover of Louise -St. Amande after her marriage, the father of Gerald St. Amande, the -man who has been wrongfully installed as Lord St. Amande in the Irish -peerage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God!" exclaimed my husband. "This can be borne no longer." And, as he -spoke, he endeavoured to tear his sword from its sheath. Yet, between -us, the Marquis and I did manage to appease him for the time, while -the former whispered in his ear, "Tush, tush, be calm! Remember your -mother hears all. Ere long we will bring her forth to confute them. -Peace, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, clearly and distinctly upon all ears, there fell the crisp tones -of the Attorney-General addressing Robert St. Amande's accomplice. -"You have heard, sir," he said, "that which Mr. St. Amande hath -advanced. Do you confirm his words?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A swift glance passed between them--'twas plain to be observed; the -other hesitated a moment, and then, oh! unutterable villain, slowly he -bowed his head and said, "I do confirm them."</p> - -<p class="normal">I glanced at the organ as he spoke, I wondered how she behind it could -sit there so calm and unmoved if the last of her strength was not yet -gone; and then again Sir Philip Yorke was speaking: "Yet, Mr. Wolfe -Considine, your confirmation is somewhat strange. You were, if I -mistake not, proscribed as a rebel in the reign of Her late Majesty, -Queen Anne. I have a full description of you here, handed to me by the -Marquis. I will read it:--Wolfe Considine, late an officer in the -First Royal Scots Regiment, from which he deserted before Oudenarde. -Irishman, a spy in Scotland and traitor. Proscribed in seventeen -hundred and ten and fled to Hamburg. Now, sir, since you were absent -from England from that year until after the accession of the late King -in seventeen hundred and fourteen, will you tell us how you could -possibly be what you state you are, the father of Lord St. Amande!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I--I was frequently back in England--in Ireland--at that time," he -stammered, "disguised and unknown to the Government. 'Twas there, -then, that I met Louise St. Amande."</p> - -<p class="normal">A terrible cry rang down the room as he spoke; a cry betwixt a scream -and a gasp, one that caused all our eyes to be turned to the spot -whence it came. And there we saw that which was enough to appal us; -which caused Gerald to spring to his feet and rush forward and made me -tremble and desire to weep.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, erect and strong, as though she had never known an illness; her -eyes fixed with an awful glare upon the unhappy wretch; her hands -twitching and closing and opening spasmodically, we saw advancing down -the room towards us the woman so foully calumniated. Back from her she -motioned her son, as though commanding him not to bar her passage; -slowly but unhaltingly she came on until, at last, she stood full face -in front of the coward-hearted scoundrel before her. "Liar," she -hissed forth, "liar! Deny it! Deny it! Retract! Retract!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood shivering before her, his ashen lips muttering and trembling, -though no sound came from them; he seemed, indeed, as though stricken -dumb.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Liar," again she said, still with the dreadful stare in her eyes as -though she gazed on some horror unspeakable, "liar! Retract! You sat -once at his board and ate of his dish; when you were beggared he gave -you money and clothed you; yet now you would steal his wife's honour -from him; the honour from his child. Retract! Retract, ere it is too -late!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was dumb. Dumb with fear and dismay! He could frame no words in -answer to the spectre that had arisen before him; he could not meet -the glance of the poor paralysed woman whose strength had come back to -her so that she might confront him. Still she went on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Retract, I say." And with those eyes piercing his soul, she -continued, "Was my early acquaintance with you--unsought by me and -never desired--fit justification for hurling the name of wanton at me -all these years? Was my poor unhappy husband's charity to you fit -justification for branding his child so vilely? See, here he stands -before you. See," and she struck Gerald, who remained by her side, so -fiercely on the breast as she indicated him that he bore the bruise -for some days. "See! Is he that thing you state? Answer, vile -traducer. Answer me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the love of God! be calm, mother. Heed him not," my husband -cried.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, instead, she heeded not her son and again continued, though as -she spoke she wiped her lips with her handkerchief, and all saw that -it had blood upon it when she had done so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Retract, I say! Retract, I say! What! Shall a woman cherish above all -other things her honour only to have it fouled and maligned by any -crawling villain who chooses to speak the word? Am I--are all -women--at the mercy of such base things as you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She gazed at him a moment and again she reiterated:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Retract! Retract! Retract, I say!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Still his lips quivered but uttered no sound; once he gazed round the -room as though seeking to escape; the perspiration stood in beads upon -his brow; his knees shook under him. And then, unhappy wretch! he -whispered: "I--I cannot; I dare not."</p> - -<p class="normal">They were the last he ever uttered. Swift as lightning darting from -the clouds, the right arm that had been so long paralysed was thrust -forth; in an instant her hand had seized the sword that hung by his -side and had torn it from its sheath; in another it had passed through -his body, the hilt striking against his breast. There was a piercing -scream from him, a thud as the body fell to the floor a moment after; -a clang of steel as she, after drawing forth the weapon from him, let -it fall from her now nerveless hand and, with a gasp, sunk into her -son's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she moaned, while from her lips there oozed a -thin red stream! "Oh, my dear one, at last I have repaid his attempt -upon our honour and now 'tis finished. My sweet, this is the end. I -have not five minutes' life left to me. Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">Once, as Gerald held her in his arms, she tried to put her own around -his neck, he helping her to do so, and then, opening her eyes wide, -she whispered, "Thrust a sword through a man's body, Gerald; through a -man's body," and so passed away.</p> - -<p class="normal">How shall I write further, how continue an account of that which I no -longer witnessed? The room swam before my eyes; I heard a terrible cry -escape from the white lips of Robert St. Amande; in a mist I saw the -horror-stricken faces of the assembled guests and of the Marquis. I -knew that Sir Robert Walpole called loudly for a physician and a -chirurgeon to be fetched; I saw the dead man lying at my feet, the -dead woman in her son's arms, and then I swooned and knew no more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_IV.1" href="#div1Ref_IV.1">THE NARRATIVE CONCLUDED BY GERALD, VISCOUNT ST. AMANDE</a></h4> - -<h5>"AFTER THESE STORMS AT LAST A CALM"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Many years have passed since those events occurred which have been -written down by my dear wife and myself, and, hand in hand as ever, we -are beginning to grow old. Thus I, who was but a boy when my father -died and this history commenced, am now a middle-aged man fast nearing -forty. My children, too, are no longer to be regarded as children; -Gerald, my eldest boy, is promised a guidon in the Royal Regiment of -Horse Guards Blue. My second son is at home in England in preparation -for Oxford. My third, a little lad, is a midshipman serving under Sir -Charles Knowles, and, by his last letter, I gather that he is almost -as proud of the naval uniform which hath this year of grace, 1748, -been authorised to the King's Navy, as of the attack on Port Louis, in -St. Domingo, in which he took part. Of daughters I have been blessed -with one alone, who in name, as in features and complexion, resembles -what her dear mother must have been ere I had the good fortune to set -eyes on her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis of Amesbury has been dead twelve years, yet the House of -Lords has not yet called me to take my seat there as his successor. -This, however, is of supreme indifference to me--so much so, indeed, -that I have not yet petitioned them to enrol me in his place, though -Sir Robert Walpole, after he became Earl of Orford, frequently desired -me to do so, saying that it would be better done in his lifetime than -afterwards. Yet he is dead, too; and 'tis not done. Why should it be, -I often ask myself, except for my children's sake? I dwell in -Virginia, which spot I love exceedingly, and I am never like to dwell -anywhere else; while as for the Marquis's wealth it has all come to -me. Yet, as I say, for the children's sake I must some day make out my -claim to the honour. When I do so there can be no opposition to it.</p> - -<p class="normal">After that dreadful tragedy in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and after the -Marquis had sternly bade my uncle go forth and never darken his doors -again, Robert St. Amande--seeing, I suppose, that all was lost and -being, indeed, then very near to absolute destitution--betook himself -to the Temple Stairs, and, casting himself into the river, was swept -away by the fast ebbing tide and drowned, his body never being -recovered. He left a child, the boy by his second marriage that has -heretofore been spoken of, who has ever since been my care, and who -will be so as long as I live, as well as being provided for at my -death, but that he can dispute my children's birthright is, of course, -impossible. Nor, I think, is it probable he would have any desire to -do so, being in character most amiable and gentle as well as grateful, -and vastly different from his wretched half-brother, Roderick.</p> - -<p class="normal">The remains of my dear mother lie in the vaults of her own people, and -there the sad and loving heart of Louise St. Amande knows at least the -peace that was never accorded it in this world. Poor mother! Poor -stricken wife, how sad was your existence! The love you gave your -husband was doomed to slight and contumely; the love you gave your -child could never induce Fate to let that child stay long by your -side. And often as I meditate on her and on her strange life and -ending, I see her again as I saw her on that last day; I hear her last -whisper, "Thrust a sword through a man's body, Gerald." As I do so I -recognise fully that she had never forgotten the words we spoke -together in her lodgings in Denzil Street until the time came for them -to bring forth their fruits.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of the others who have figured in this narrative let me now speak -briefly. Oliver Quin, finding his occupation gone at my mother's -death--whom during her life he would never quit, being always a most -faithful and devoted servitor and friend---re-took up his old -business, and is now a thriving dealer of beasts and black cattle on -Tower Hill. Also has he been chosen as warden of the district in which -he dwells--which is close by where my kidnapping took place so long -ago--and he is a sidesman of his church, so that he is both -prosperous, respectable, and respected. When I am in England, which is -mostly once in every two or three years, we never fail to meet, he -coming to pass an evening or so with me in the great house in the -Fields, or I going to him in the City. And then, over a bottle of -sound wine if it be summer, or a sneaker of punch if winter, we talk -over our early adventures in Dublin and how we outwitted my uncle, and -I retail again and again to him the sequel to those adventures in -Virginia. Our wives know one another, too, for Quin hath married the -daughter of a poor clergyman in the Minories, she having been a -maid-servant in service of a rich cattle-dealer whom he knew; and they -admire one another's babes and talk much mother's prattle together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Kinchella likewise prospers in America, and doth well. He, too, has a -thriving family and is happy. Mary, for so I now permit myself to call -her, is my wife's greatest friend as ever, as their sons are my sons' -greatest friends when all are at home. Kinchella's eldest is at -Harvard; his youngest is at Trinity College, Dublin; and both are -intended for the ministry. If they follow in their father's footsteps -then must they be an ornament to that sacred calling, and go far -towards reforming that which still needs much reformation in our -colonies--the private lives of our divines.</p> - -<p class="normal">O'Rourke and I have never met again, yet I know that he is thriving -though he has grown very old. He dwells always at Savannah, in which -rising city he is one of the leading men, and we frequently have -correspondence with one another. And very touching and pathetic it -seemed to me to be when, on my writing him that, on my next journey -home, I intended to visit Ireland on my affairs, he asked me to take -with me some roots and cuttings to plant on his dead daughter's grave -in Dublin. "She died young," he wrote, "and ere you knew me. Had she -lived, may be your lordship would never have known me, for I might -have made a better life of it. She was all I had and she was taken -from me, and thus I turned reckless and dissolute. Thank God I have -seen the evil of my ways at last."</p> - -<p class="normal">Buck still keeps the tavern--with my wife's redemption acquittal, -which she gave to him as to all the bond-servants, framed above his -chimney-piece--and does well at that occupation and horse-rearing. -Lamb is growing very rich, having again quitted the sea and possessing -now a plantation and many servants both white and black of his own, -and bids fair to found a family.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now for ourselves, to conclude. That I am content with fate you -must surely know; who could be aught else who has ever by his side an -angel to guide, support, and minister to him? Through all the years -since first we met we have lived happily together, loving each other -most fondly, sharing each other's joys and troubles--which latter have -been but few--and being all in all to ourselves, with only our -children to partake of any portion of that love. She is still the same -as ever, her sweet, fair face as beautiful, her golden hair with -scarce a silver one in it; and, if her years have made her more -matronly, they have not robbed her of one charm. Nor is the gentle -disposition altered a jot; the trust and belief in others, the -unselfish nature, the simplicity and innocence of mind are as they -were on that summer day when first I saw her bending over her roses; -the day on which God raised up and gave to me the loving companion, -friend, and champion of my life and cause.</p> - -<p class="normal">After I have smoked my big pipe out and drunk my nightcap down, and -seen that all the servants are a-bed--for we live in her old house in -the same way her father and his fathers lived before us--I go to my -rest and, as I pass to it, look in to her retiring-room to give her -one fond, good-night kiss. Yet, often, ere I pull aside the hangings, -I have to pause and stand reverently without. For many a time that -room has become a shrine; within that shrine there is a saint. A saint -upon her knees, her fair white hands clasped, and in those hands her -golden head buried. A saint who prays to her God to bless her husband -and her children ever; a saint who thinks of nought for herself but of -all for those dear to her, and who, in that self-forgetfulness, finds -her deepest happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Than to possess such a fond heart as this there is no more to be -asked.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: A -gossiping, chatting, or drinking place.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: The -mastiffs in Virginia were trained to worry figures -dressed as Indians, as well as being always taken out in any foray or -chase after either a band of them or an individual, and the antipathy -between these dogs and the savages was always very marked.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: -Unfortunately, such was the class of ministers who -originally went out to the American colonies (they generally being -outcasts from their own country) that, in this instance, Roderick St. -Amande was not only speaking the truth but also representing very -accurately the common feeling of the Indian tribes towards the -colonial clergyman.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: The -incident of the Indian woman's mercy is not -fictitious.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_05" href="#div4Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: Indians -taken prisoners by the colonists were sometimes -sold into slavery in Canada or the West Indies, where they generally -died soon.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_06" href="#div4Ref_06">Footnote 6</a>: So called -from the poles smeared with blood which were -erected before the Seminoles' tents when on the warpath. The French -settlers also termed them "Bâtons Rouges," whence the name of the old -capital of Louisiana.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<h5>F. W. S. Clarke & Co., Ltd., Criterion Press, Leicester.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Land of Bondage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF BONDAGE *** - -***** This file should be named 52957-h.htm or 52957-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/5/52957/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (Library of the University of Illinois) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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