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.