A DOMESTIC SCENE AT THE DOVE COTE.
On the third morning following Lindsay's and Tyrrel's departure, the
season being now about the commencement of September, Henry was seen,
after an unusually early breakfast, to come forth upon the grass-plot,
in front of the house, bearing in his hand a short rifle,--his customary
accompaniment of the bugle being slung across his shoulders. For some
moments he was occupied in examining his weapon; then leaning it against
a tree that stood upon the lawn, he put the bugle to his mouth and
sounded a long and clear signal-note. The first effects of this spell
were to bring up Bell, Blanche, and Hylas, the three flap-eared hounds,
who came frisking over the grass with many antics that might be said to
resemble the bows and curtsies of the human species, and which were
accompanied by the houndish salutation of deep-mouthed howls that the
horn never fails to wake up in these animals.
Soon after these, came striding up the hill the long gaunt form of
Stephen Foster, who, mounting the stone wall on the lower side, with one
bound sprang over the thickset-hedge that begirt the terrace. He was now
arrayed in a yellow hunting shirt that reached to the middle of his
thigh, and which was decorated with an abundance of red fringe that
bound the cape, elbows, wrists, and extremity of the skirt, and a wool
hat encircled with a broad red band, in one side of which was set the
national ornament of the buck-tail. Around his waist was buckled a broad
buckskin belt; he was armed besides with a rifle a little short of six
feet in length.
Stephen Foster was one of that idle craft, who, having no particular
occupation, was from this circumstance, by a contradiction in terms,
usually called a man of all work. He belonged to that class of beings
who are only to be found in a society where the ordinary menial
employments are discharged by slaves; and was the tenant of a few acres
of land, appertaining to the domain of the Dove Cote, where he professed
to make his living by husbandry. But by far the greater proportion of
his revenues was derived from divers miscellaneous services,--such as
driving a team of four lean horses, of which he was proprietor; hauling
wood for fuel; assisting in the harvest fields; somtimes working in the
garden; and, when required, riding errands--which he preferred to all
other business. But labor was not Stephen's forte: it was
constitutionally a part of his system to postpone matters of work for
pleasure; and, if there was anything for which he was particularly
famous, it was in avoiding all appearances of punctuality to irksome
engagements. If he can be said to have had a calling at all, it was that
of a hunter, a species of employment that possessed a wonderful charm
for his fancy, and which was excellently adapted both to his physical
and moral qualities. He, therefore, gave much of his time to the
concerns of vert and venison; and his skill with the rifle was such that
he could make sure of putting a ball through the brain of a wild pigeon
as far as he was able to draw a sight. He was skilled in the habits of
all the forest animals common to this part of Virginia, and accurately
drew the line of distinction between vermin and game. He hunted wolves,
bears, panthers (painters, in his own pronunciation), racoons, foxes,
opossums, and squirrels; and trapped otter, beaver, and muskrats;
moreover, he was an expert jigger and bobber of eels, and well knew the
trouting streams. For these pursuits he was endowed with a patient
nature that could endure a whole day and night in the woods without
eating or sleeping; my authority says nothing of his forbearance in the
third primary want of humanity. He was a man of fine thews and sinews,
stout and brave; and withal of a generous, frank, and invariable good
nature. The war had furnished occasion for such talents as be possessed;
and Stephen was now meditating a bold severance from his wife and
children, who had heretofore exerted such a dominion over his
affections, that he had not the heart to leave them. But the present
difficulties of the nation had made such a cogent appeal to his
patriotism, that he had resolved to take one campaign in the field, and
thus give scope to his natural love of adventure. It was now his
peculiar glory, and one that wrought with a potent influence upon his
self-love, that he held the post of lieutenant to the company of Amherst
Rangers, a volunteer corps that had lately been organized with a view to
the state of affairs in the south.
This worthy, when he had no expedition in hand, was generally to be
found lounging about the mansion of the Dove Cote, in expectation of
some call from Henry, between whom and himself there existed a mutual
and somewhat exorbitant affection.
On his present appearance there was a broad, complacent grin on
Stephen's features as he accosted the young bugleman with the
interrogatory--
"What's in the wind now, Mister Henry? Arter another buck, I reckon? And
an elegant morning it is for a drive! May be, the wind's just a little
too fresh, 'cepting you was able to steal on the lower side of the game,
and then the scent would come down like a rose. Thar's a great advantage
in being down the wind, because the animal can't hear you breaking
through the bushes, for the wind makes naturally such a twittering of
the leaves that it deceives him, you see."
"I fancy I know a good hunting day, Lieutenant Foster," said Henry,
putting his arms akimbo, "as well as you. Who told you I was going after
a buck? Why, man, if that had been my drift I should have started you
two hours ago. But we have other business in hand, Stephen. There is
such dreadful news in the country! We shall march soon, take my word for
it. I am resolved to go, Stephen, as soon as ever the Rangers set out,
let my father say what he will. It is time men should take their
sides--that's my opinion."
"Mister Henry, I wouldn't advise you," said Stephen, with a wise shake
of the head. "Your father would grieve himself to death if you were to
leave him."
"Don't believe the half of that, lieutenant. There would be a flurry for
a little while, and, after that, father would see that the thing
couldn't be helped, and so he would have to be satisfied. I'll steal
away--that's flat."
"Well, take notice, Mister Henry," said Stephen, chuckling, "I give you
my warning against it. But if you do go along with me I'll take as much
care of you as if you were my own son."
"I know sister Mildred thinks," replied Henry, "it wouldn't be very
wrong in me to go; and so I'll leave her to make my peace at home.
Besides, I am going on her account, just to try and hear something of
Major Butler."
"If that's her opinion," returned Stephen, "thar isn't much wrong about
it. She is the head contriver and main privy-councillor," added Stephen,
laughing, as he used these slang words, with which he was in the habit
of garnishing his conversation, "of all matters that are done here in
this house."
"These are your new regimentals, Stephen," said Henry, looking at
Foster's dress; "you shine like a flecker on a sunny day. It will please
sister to the life to see you so spruce; she's a prodigious
disciplinarian, and doesn't like to see us rebels (here he put his hand
to his mouth and pronounced this word with a mock circumspection), worse
dressed than the rascally red-coats. When do the Rangers march,
Stephen?"
"We are waiting for orders every day. We parade, you know, Mister Henry,
this morning."
"You must plead off to-day," said Henry; "I called you up to tell you
that sister and I were going to ride, and I wanted you to go with us. At
any rate, if you must go to the troop, you can leave us on the road. You
don't meet till twelve, and both sister and I want to talk to you. She
commanded me to tell you this. I believe she wishes you to take a letter
for her. Poor Mildred doesn't know that I am going with you; so, as to
that, you needn't let on. Go, Stephen, have our horses ready as soon as
you can get them. Quick, good Stephen; sister and I will wait for you on
the lawn."
The lieutenant of the Rangers, having received his orders, hurried away
to attend to their execution.
Mildred was already apparelled for her ride, and came at this moment
from the house along the gravel walk. Her cheek, lately pale, had now
begun to show the ruddy hue of health. Her full, dark-blue eye, although
habitually expressive of a thoughtful temperament, frequently sparkled
with the sudden flashes of a playful spirit, and oftener with the fire
of an ardent resolution. Her features, marked by a well-defined outline,
bore a strong resemblance to her brother's, and, when animated by the
quick-speeding emotions of her mind, presented a countenance unusually
gifted with the graces of external beauty. The impression which her
physiognomy conveyed, was that of an impassioned and enthusiastic
nature, and of a feminine courage that was sufficient for any emergency.
A clear skin gave brilliancy to her complexion; and, although habits of
exposure to the air had slightly impaired its lustre, the few traces
which this exposure left, rather communicated the agreeable idea of a
wholesome and vigorous constitution. The tones of her voice were soft
and gentle, and full of harmony; and, when stimulated by her feelings,
rich, deep, and commanding. Her figure, of what might be deemed a medium
height in females, was neat and agile, well proportioned, and combining
the flexible ease proper to her sex, with a degree of steadiness and
strength that might be denominated masculine. Her movement was graceful,
distinguished by a ready hand and free step; and it was impossible to
look upon her most familiar bearing, without being struck by the
indication which it gave of a self-possessed, fearless, and careering
temper, allied to a mind raised above the multitude by a consciousness
of intellectual force.
As Mildred advanced along the shaded walk, she was followed by a
fantastical little attendant, whom, in the toyish freak of a solitary
and luxurious life, she had trained to fill the station of a lady's
page. This was a diminutive negro boy, not above ten years of age, of a
delicate figure, and now gaudily bedecked in a vest of scarlet cloth, a
pair of loose white linen trowsers drawn at the ancle, and red slippers.
A ruffle fell over his neck, and full white sleeves were fastened with
silken cords at his wrists. A scarlet velvet cap gave a finish to the
apparel of this gorgeous little elf; and the dress, grotesque as it was,
was not badly set off by the saucy, familiar port of the conceited
menial. Whether he had been destined from his birth to this pampered
station,--or, accidentally, like many of the eastern monarchs, raised to
the purple,--he bore the romantic name of Endymion, and was fully as
much at the call of his patroness, and as fond of sleep, as him of Mount
Latmos. His business seemed to be at the present moment to acquit
himself of the responsible duty of holding an ivory-mounted riding-whip
in readiness for the service of his mistress.
When Mildred had crossed the lawn and arrived at the spot where Henry
now stood, she was saluted by her brother, with--
"Stand, my gentle sister, you and your monkey! Ah, Mildred, you are not
what you used to be; you have grown much too grave of late. Bear up,
dear sister: for, after all, what is it! Why we have been beaten, and we
must fight it over again, that's all. And as to the major, your
partiality magnifies his dangers. Hasn't he an arm?--yes; and hasn't he
a leg?--which, in war, I hold to be just as useful sometimes."
"There is a dreadful uncertainty, brother," replied Mildred. "I dream of
the worst."
"A fig for your dreams, sister Mildred! They have been all sorts of
ways, and that you know. Now, I have a waking dream, and that is, that
before you are twenty-four hours older you will hear of Major Butler."
"Would to heaven your dream may prove true!" replied Mildred. "But,
Henry, you love me, and affection is an arrant cheat in its prophecies."
"Tush then, sister! don't talk of it. For when we know nothing, it does
no good to get to fancying. These are the times to act; and perhaps I'll
surprise you yet."
"With what, good brother?"
"Order arms," replied Henry, evading his sister's inquiry, and at the
same time assuming a military erectness, and bringing his rifle briskly
to the ground--"with the beauty of my drill, sister. It even surprises
myself. You shall see me march." And here he sportively shouldered his
rifle and stepped with a measured pace across the green, and then back
again; whilst the saucy Endymion, presuming on his privilege, with mimic
gestures, followed immediately in Henry's rear, taking large strides to
keep his ground. When Henry perceived the apish minion thus upon his
track he burst out into a laugh.
"You huge giant-killer, do you mock me?" he exclaimed. "Sister, I will
smother your body-guard in the crown of my cap, if he isn't taught
better manners."
"Henry, I cannot share your light heart with you," said Mildred
sorrowfully, "mine is heavy."
"And mine is yours, sister, light or heavy; in sunshine or in storm,
summer and winter, dear Mildred, it is always yours. It was a trick of
mine to amuse you. And if I do not seem to feel, sister, as you do, it
is because I mean to act. We men have no time for low spirits."
"Stephen Foster is here at the door with our horses, brother. Boy, give
me the whip--now, away. The gay feathers of this bird," said Mildred, as
the little black retired, "do not become a follower of mine."
The new aspect of affairs, since the defeat of Camden, had pressed
grievously upon Mildred's spirits. The country was full of disheartening
rumors, and every day added particulars that were of a nature to
increase the distress. The bloody fate of the brave De Kalb, and the
soldiers that fell by his side; the triumph with which Cornwallis had
begun his preparations for further conquests; the destitution and
disarray of the American army, now flying before its enemy; the tales of
unsparing sequestration with which, in Carolina, the lands of those who
still bore arms in the cause of independence, were visited; the military
executions of prisoners charged with the violation of a constructive
allegiance, in the conquered districts; the harsh measures which were
adopted to break the heart of the rebellion, that still lingered behind
the march of the victorious army; and, above all, the boastful
confidence with which Cornwallis, by his proclamations, sought to open
the way for his invasion of North Carolina and Virginia, by attempting
to rally the liege subjects of the king under his standard: all these
events came on the wings of rumor, and had lighted up a flame through
the whole country. To Mildred, they all imported an ill omen as regarded
the fate of Arthur Butler. Now and then, a straggling soldier of Gates's
broken force arrived at the Dove Cote, where he was received with an
eager hospitality, and closely questioned as to the events in which he
had participated. But of Butler, not even the remotest tidings were
obtained. For the present, the uncertainty of his fortune filled
Mildred's thoughts with the most anxious and unhappy misgivings; and
this frame of mind over-mastered all other feelings. The late visit of
Tyrrel to the Dove Cote, and the abrupt departure of her father with
this individual, on an unavowed expedition, were not calculated to allay
her fears; and she felt herself pressed on all sides with the presages
of coming misfortune. In these difficulties she did not lose her
fortitude; but, like a mariner benighted in a dangerous strait, she
counted over the anxious moments of her voyage, expecting, at each
succeeding instant, to hear the dreadful stranding of her bark upon the
unseen rock, though bravely prepared for the worst.