THE QUEER NAME
When Sally, bright as a new sixpence, appeared at breakfast the next
morning, Parson Kendall regarded her with much thoughtfulness. And when
he said, soberly, "I would see thee again in the library after thy meal
is finished," she wondered what he might have to say.
He spoke gently, but wasted no words as he began:
"Maid Sally Dukeen, it hath pleased God to take unto himself the woman,
Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who departed this life at midnight just past.
"But there was that on her mind which it beseemed her must be told
before she could die in peace. And she made confession that thy father
left thee suddenly when thou wert but six years of age, and being a
stranger, and thinking better of Mistress Brace than I greatly fear she
deserved, he left thee in her care, together with a considerable sum of
money, which was to pay for board and proper schooling.
"But being tempted of the Spirit of Evil, Mistress Brace used the money
as if it was her own. A large portion of it she had spent, but some yet
remains. This, she also confessed with tears and with sighs, she
intended to put at interest as soon as some of our present troubles were
over.
"What thy treatment was with Mistress Brace we need not dwell upon."
"She was not cruel, sir," said Maid Sally, wishing in her tender young
heart to speak kindly of the dead.
"Not cruel, perhaps, as to violent treatment, child," said the stern,
just parson, "yet I hold it cruel, ah, very cruel, to have kept thee
much as a serving-maid, and keeping back thy education as she did, and
would have continued to have done, had it not been for the good blood
in thy veins that cried out for better things."
"Have I good blood in my veins, sir?" cried Sally, twisting her pointed
fingers in an eager, nervous way.
"Aye, the best of blood, dear child, and the will of an iron-nerved
forefather. I hurried out last night for that man of the law, Sir
Gaspard Culpeper, that he might witness to what the poor misguided woman
had to say, and wishing God's mercy for myself as well as for all
others, I have it in my heart to admit that ignorance had much to do
with the great mistakes of Mistress Brace and her dealings.
"Hast thou ever seen this name before, Maid Sally? Look well upon it,
and try to remember."
Sally looked at the paper the parson handed her, and the rich blood
spread over her face.
"Speak truth, child," said the parson.
"I did indeed see that name once, both on a cape and in a letter that
lay in a little trunk at Mistress Brace's," said Sally, "and--and--"
"Speak out without fear," said Parson Kendall, as Sally groped for
words; "much depends on my having a clear understanding of all thou
canst tell."
Then Sally told of the soldier who had thrust his card into her bended
arm.
"It was the same queer name," said Sally.
"Dost know what language it would belong to, young maid?" and the grave
parson smiled.
"The soldier I think was French," said the maiden, a droop of
disappointment in her voice. "I fear me the name must be French also."
"Spell it, and then pronounce it," said the parson.
And Sally spelled, then pronounced:
"'D-u-q-u-e-s-n-e, Doo-_kane_.'"
"You need feel nought but pride at bearing that ancient name!" cried
Parson Kendall. "No more noble officer hath the French navy ever known
than the fearless, distinguished commander who once bore it. A marquis,
child, a French nobleman! A Protestant, who conquered Spanish, Danes,
and Dutch during his splendid career.
"Hast not thou felt the will of thine ancestor, stirring thee to make
the most of thyself? Hast thou not felt within thee a craving for the
best things in life? Hast not thou pushed thy way up to those better
things?"
"Yes, oh, yes!" burst forth Maid Sally, with a great shuddering sob. "I
felt it! I almost knew it! My good Fairy felt it must be so!"
"Your good Fairy?" The parson looked amazed.
"Yes," cried Sally, for to the winds went all fear of letting the kind
parson know what was in her heart, and what had been one great comfort
of her poor little life.
"Yes, my good Fairy, sir. I talked with another part of myself and found
help in pretending a Fairy dwelt in my soul. My poorer self was one part
of me, the good Fairy the other. And the good Fairy did hearten and
comfort me."
"One was Sally Dukeen," and the parson smiled most pleasantly, "the
other was Sara Doo-kane. Strange how the accent of but one letter can
change a name. I fancy it was Mistress Brace's incorrect way of calling
it.
"But there is more for you to know. Your mother was an English lady,
also of excellent birth, but on the way to this country with your
father, to seek a better fortune, she died.
"Now very early this morning I sought out the soldier, Officer Duquesne,
of whom you have told me and of whom I have heard. And although I know
him to be a very different man from your ancestor of nearly a hundred
years ago, and his also, and fighting I hold on the wrong side, he yet
told me some things I was pleased to know.
"The man who gave you his card, my dear maiden, was your father's own
cousin, and I feel sure he once felt great love for your mother. He told
me of having seen a young maid who was so much the image of a beloved
friend of the past that he desired to know her name. And tears filled
his eyes when I showed him a small painted picture of your mother that
had lain in Mistress Brace's little trunk. For she would have us find
the trunk and see what was hiding inside."
"There!" again exclaimed Sally, "I have said to my Fairy, 'How know I
but Mistress Cory Ann hath things that were my mother's and should
belong to me?'"
"There was a cape of finest needlework," continued the parson, "probably
the one you saw, also a letter of importance, as it told the name of
your mother's family, and a few articles beside money, of value to you,
found in the little trunk. Here is the picture of your poor mamma."
Sally gazed with curious eyes at the little painting that was so like
her own face as seen in the mirror, that she exclaimed:
"It is like my own face!" and suddenly she kissed it, a quick, warm
kiss.
"I wonder what made me do that?" she asked, with a feeling of confusion.
"I think it was your warm French blood," said Parson Kendall.
"And what was my mother's name?" asked Sally.
"Earlscourt. She was of the same house as Lady Gabrielle, wife of Sir
Percival Grandison, although well removed. Officer Duquesne of the
British army thought your mother lost money through some of her
relatives, who have died, so nothing can be proved."
"Enough has been proved!" cried Maid Sally.
Parson Kendall smiled.
"There speaketh your good Fairy," he said; "enough _has_ been proved.
You are of noble blood on your father's side, and the Earlscourts hold
themselves to be of the best, as no doubt they are. What better could'st
thou wish?"
Sally was speechless.
She had not taken in the whole truth of the last fact until it was thus
plainly set before her.
Of kin to her Fairy Prince!
Could it be true? Yet here sat Parson Kendall, who had heard the story
from her father's own cousin, a man who knew root and branch all the
truth as to her kindred and relations.
"I think I had better go away and be alone by myself," said Sally, her
face crimson, a feverish light in her eyes.
"We will say nothing of this outside the house for the present," advised
the parson. "Officer Duquesne is one of the king's men,--and by the way,
we had but until lately a fort of that name,--and he quite likely will
acquaint Lady Grandison with the fact that she hath a young kinswoman in
the town. But, my dear damsel, she would, I fear, look but coldly just
now on one whom she would regard as a little rebel."
"Then her son is a rebel, too," said Sally, with dimples plumping in.
"Yes, and hath been aided in helping the rebel army, by his young
kinswoman, Sara Duquesne," laughed Parson Kendall with quiet glee.
"I must go away by myself awhile," again said Maid Sally.
"And take thy good Fairy with thee," said the parson. "But return from
wherever thou goest in an hour, for Goodwife Kendall and myself go to
Cloverlove plantation to dine, and we go by stage, which passes there
and will not return until near evening.
"I have lessons for thee to learn, and would not have thee dwell too
much on the knowledge that hath come to thee, and is indeed very
pleasant."
"I think the world has turned topsyturvy," said the maiden, with the
look of one who dreams.
"And Fairies are but bright fancies of very human creatures," said the
parson, in a low, kind voice.