Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship, too rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.
SHELLEY.
Guert Ten Eyck was profoundly impressed with what he had heard, in his
visit to the fortune-teller. It affected his spirits, and, as will be seen,
it influenced all his subsequent conduct. As for myself, I will not say
that I totally disregarded what had passed; though the effect was greatly
less on me, than it was on my friend. The Rev. Mr. Worden, however, treated
the matter with great disdain. He declared that he had never before been so
insulted in his life. The old hag, no doubt, had seen us all before, and
recognised him. Profiting by a knowledge of this sort--that was very easily
obtained in a place of the size of Albany--she had taken the occasion to
make the most of the low gossip that had been circulated at his expense.
“Loping Dominie, indeed,” he added; “as if any man would not run to save
his life! You saw how it was with the river, Corny, when it once began to
break up, and know that my escape was marvellous. I deserve as much credit
for that retreat, boy, as Xenophon did for his retreat with the Ten
Thousand. It is true, I had not thirty-four thousand, six hundred and fifty
stadia to retreat over; but acts are to be estimated more by quality, than
by quantity. The best things are always of an impromptu character; and,
generally, they are on a small scale. Then, as for all you tell me about
Guert; why, the hussy knew him--_must_ have known him, in a town like
Albany, where the fellow has a character that identifies him with all sorts
of fun and roguery. Jack, and Moses, too! Do you think the inspiration
of even an evil spirit, or of forty thousand devils, would lead a
fortune-teller to name any horse Moses? Jack might do, perhaps; but _Moses_
would never enter the head of even an imp! Remember, lad, Moses was the
great law-giver of the Jews; and such a creature would be as apt to suppose
a horse was named Confucius, as to suppose he was named Moses!”
“I suppose the inspiration, as you call it, sir, would lead a clever
fortune-teller to give things as they are; and to call the horses by their
real names, let them be what they might.”
“Ay, such inspiration as this miserable, old, wrinkled, impudent she-devil
enjoys! Don't tell me, Corny; there is no such thing as fortune-telling;
at least, nothing that can be depended on in all cases--and this is one of
downright imposition. 'Loping Dominie,' forsooth!”
Such were the Rev. Mr. Worden's sentiments on the subject of Mother
Doortje's revelations. He exacted a pledge from us all, to say nothing
about the matter; nor were we much disposed to be communicative on the
subject. As for Guert, Dirck, Jason, and myself, we did not hesitate to
converse on the circumstances of our visits, among ourselves, however; and
each and all of us viewed the matter some what differently from our Mentor.
I ascertained that Jason had been highly gratified with what had been
predicted on his own behalf; for what was wealth in his eyes had been
foretold as his future lot; and a man rarely quarrels with good fortune,
whether in prospective, or in possession. Dirck, though barely twenty,
began to talk of living a single life from this time; and no laughter
of mine could induce the poor lad to change his views, or to entertain
livelier hopes. Guert was deeply impressed, as has been said; and feeling
no restraint in the matter of his own case, he took occasion to speak of
his visit to the woman, one morning that Herman Mordaunt, the two ladies,
Bulstrode, and myself, were sitting together, chatting, in the freedom of
what had now become a very constant intercourse.
“Are such things as fortune-tellers known in England, Mr. Bulstrode?” Guert
abruptly commenced, fastening his eyes on Mary Wallace, as he asked the
question; for on her were his thoughts running at the time.
“All sorts of silly things are to be found in Old England, Mr. Ten Eyck, as
well as some that are wise. I believe London has one or two soothsayers;
and I think I have heard elderly people say that the fashion of consulting
them has somewhat increased, since the court has been so German.”
“Yes,” Guert innocently replied; “I find it easy to believe that; for,
it is a common saying, among our people, that the German and Low Dutch
fortune-tellers are the best known. They have had, or pretend to have had,
witches in New England; but no one, hereabouts, puts any faith in the
pretence. It is like all the bragging of these boastful Yankees!”
I observed that Mary Wallace's colour deepened; and that, in biting off a
thread, she profited, by the occasion, to avert her face in such a manner,
that Bulstrode, in particular, could not see it.
“The meaning of all this,” put in Major Bulstrode “is, that our friend
Guert has been to pay a visit to Mother Doortje's; a woman of some note,
who lives on the hill, and who has a reputation, in that way, among these
good Albanians! Several of our mess have been to see the old woman.”
“It is, Mr. Bulstrode,” Guert answered, in his manly way, and with a
gravity which proved how much he was in earnest. “I have been to see Mother
Doortje, for the first time in my life; and Corny Littlepage, here, was my
companion. Long as I have known the woman by reputation, I have never had
any curiosity to pay her a visit, until this spring. We have been, however;
and, I must say, I have been greatly surprised at the extent of the
knowledge of this very extraordinary person.”
“Did she tell you to look into the sweetmeat-pot, for the lost spoon, Mr.
Ten Eyck,” Anneke inquired, with an archness of eye and voice, that sent
the blood to my own face, in confusion. “They say, that fortune-tellers
send all prudent, yet careless housewives, to the sweetmeat-pots, to look
for the lost spoons! Many have been found, I hear, by this wonderful
prescience.”
“Well, Miss Anneke, I see, you have no faith,” answered Guert, fidgeting;
“and people who have no faith, never believe. Notwithstanding, _I_ put so
much confidence in what Doortje has told me, that I intend to follow her
advice let matters turn out as they may.”
Here Mary Wallace raised her thoughtful, full, blue eyes to the face of the
young man; and they expressed an intense interest, rather than any light
curiosity, that even her woman's instinct and woman's sensitiveness could
not so far prevail, as to enable her to conceal. Still, Mary Wallace did
not speak, leaving the others present to maintain the discourse.
“Of course, you mean to tell us all about it, Ten Eyck,” cried the Major;
“there is nothing more likely to succeed, with an audience, than a good
history of witchcraft, or something so very marvellous, as to do violence
to common sense, before we give it our faith.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Bulstrode; these are things I cannot well mention; though,
Corny Littlepage will testify, that they are very wonderful. At any rate,
I shall go into the bush, this spring; and Littlepage and Follock, being
excellent companions, I propose to join their company. It will be late,
before the army will be ready to move; and, by that time, all three of us
propose to join you before Ticonderoga; if, indeed, you succeed in getting
so far.”
“Say, rather, in front of Montreal; for, I trust, this new
Commander-In-Chief will find something more for us to do, than the last one
did. Shall I have a sentinel placed at Doortje's door, in your absence,
Guert!”
The smile, this question produced, was general; Guert, himself, joining in
it; for his good-nature was of proof. When I say the smile was general,
however, I ought to except Mary Wallace, who smiled little, that morning.
“We shall be neighbours, then,” Herman Mordaunt quietly observed; “that
is to say, if you mean, by accompanying Corny and Dirck to the bush, you
intend to go with them to the patent, lately obtained by Messrs. Littlepage
and Van Valkenburgh. I have an estate, in that quarter, which is now ten
years old; and these ladies have consented to accompany me thither, as soon
as the weather is a little more settled, and I can be assured that our army
will be of sufficient force to protect us from the French and Indians.”
It is unnecessary for me to say with what delight Guert and I heard this
announcement! On Bulstrode, however, it produced an exactly contrary
effect. He did not appear, to me, to be surprised, at a declaration that
was so new to us; but several expressions fell from him, that showed he had
no idea the two estates, that of Herman Mordaunt's, and that which belonged
to us, lay so near together. It was by means of _his_ questions, indeed,
that I learned the real facts of the case. It appeared that Herman
Mordaunt's business, in Albany, was to make some provisions in behalf of
this property, on which he had caused mills to be erected, and some of the
other improvements of a new settlement, to be made, two or three years
before; and which, by the progress and events of the war, was getting to be
in closer proximity to the enemy, than was desirable. Even where the French
lay, at Ticonderoga, his mills, in particular, might be thought in some
danger, though forty or more miles distant; for parties of savages, led
on by white men, frequently marched that distance through the forests, in
order to break up a settlement and to commit depredations. But the enemy
had crossed Lake George, the previous summer, and had actually taken Fort
William Henry, at its southern extremity, by siege. It is true, this was
the extent of their inroad; and, it was now known, that they had abandoned
this bold conquest, and had fallen back upon Ty and Crown Point, two of the
strongest military positions in the British colonies. Still, Ravensnest, as
Herman Mordaunt's property was called, was far from being beyond the limits
of sorties; and the residence, at Albany, was solely to watch the progress
of events in that quarter, and to be near the scene. If he had any public
employment, it remained a profound mystery. A new source of embarrassment
had arisen, however; and this it was that decided the proprietor to visit
his lands in person. The fifteen or twenty families he had succeeded in
establishing on the estate, at much cost and trouble, had taken the alarm
at the prospect of a campaign in their vicinity; and had announced an
intention of abandoning their huts and clearings, as the course most
expedient for the times. Two or three had already gone off towards the
Hampshire Grants, whence they had originally come; profiting by the last of
the snow; and, it was feared, that others might imitate their caution.
Herman Mordaunt saw no necessity for this abandonment of advantages over
the wilderness, that had been obtained at so much cost and trouble. The
labour of a removal, and a return, was sufficient, of itself, to give a new
direction to the movements of his settlers; and, as their first entrance
into the country had been effected through his agency, and aided by his
means, he naturally wished to keep the people he had got to his estate with
so much difficulty, and at so much cost, at their several positions, as
long, at least, as he conceived it to be prudent. In these circumstances,
therefore, he had determined to visit Ravensnest in person, and to pass a
part, if not most of the summer, among his people. This would give them
confidence, and would enable him to infuse new life into their operations.
It would seem, that Anneke and Mary Wallace had refused to let Mr. Mordaunt
go alone; and, believing, himself, there was no danger in the course he
was about to take, the father and guardian, for Mary Wallace was Herman
Mordaunt's ward, had yielded to the importunities of the two girls; and it
had been formally decided that they were all to proceed together, as soon
as the season should get to be a little more advanced. Intelligence of this
intention had been sent to the settlers; and its effect was to induce them
to remain at their posts, by pacifying their fears.
I might as well add, here, what I learned subsequently, in the due course
of events. Bulstrode had been made acquainted with Herman Mordaunt's plans,
they being sworn friends, and the latter warmly in the interest of the
former's suit; and he had known how to profit by the information. It was
now time to put the troops in motion; and several parties had already
marched towards the north, taking post at different points that it was
thought desirable to occupy, previously to the commencement of the
campaign. Among other corps under orders of this nature, was that commanded
by Bulstrode; and he had sufficient interest, at head-quarters, to get
it sent to the point nearest to Ravensnest; where it gave him the double
advantage, of having it in his power to visit the ladies, on occasion,
while, at the same time, he must appear, to them, somewhat in the character
of a protector. The object of Dirck and myself, in visiting the north,
was no secret; and, it was generally understood, that we were to go to
Mooseridge; but we did not know, ourselves, that Herman Mordaunt had an
estate so near us. This intelligence, as has been said, I now ascertained,
was as new to Bulstrode as it was to myself.
The knowledge of many little things I have just mentioned, was obtained
by me only at intervals, and by means of observation and discourse.
Nevertheless, the main points were determined on the morning on which Guert
referred to his visit to the fortune-teller, and in the manner named. The
conversation lasted an hour; nor did it cease, until all present got a
general idea of the course intended to be pursued by the different parties
present, during the succeeding summer.
It happened, that morning, that Bulstrode, Dirck, and Guert withdrew
together, the two last to look at a horse the former had just purchased,
leaving me alone with the young ladies. No sooner was the door closed on
the retiring members of our party, than I saw a smile struggling about
the handsome mouth of Anneke; Mary Wallace continuing the whole time
thoughtful, if not sad.
“And _you_ were of the party at the fortune-teller's, too, it seems, Mr.
Littlepage,” Anneke remarked, after appearing to be debating with herself
on the propriety of proceeding any farther in the subject. “I knew there
was such a person in Albany, and that thrifty housekeepers _did_ sometimes
consult her; but I was ignorant that men, and _educated_ men, paid her that
honour.”
“I believe there is no exception in the way of sex or learning, to her
influence, or her authority. They tell me that most of the younger officers
of the army visit her, while they remain here.”
“I would much like to know if Mr. Bulstrode has been of the number! He is
young enough in years, though so high in rank. A major may have as much
curiosity as an ensign; or, as it may appear, dear Mary, of a woman who has
lost her grandmother's favourite dessert-spoon.”
Mary Wallace gave a gentle sigh, and she even raised her eyes from her
work; still, she made no answer.
“You are severe on us, Anneke;” for, since the affair on the river, the
whole family treated me with the familiarity of a son or a brother--“I
fancy we have done no more than Mr. Mordaunt has done in his day.”
“This may be very true, Corny, and not make the consultation the wisest
thing in nature. I hope, however, you do not keep your fortune a secret,
but let your friends share in your knowledge!”
“To me the woman was far from being communicative, though she treated Guert
Ten Eyck better. Certainly, she told him many extraordinary things, of the
past even; unless indeed, she knew who he was.”
“Is it probable, Mr. Littlepage,” said Mary Wallace, “that any person in
Albany should not know Guert Ten Eyck, and a good deal of his past history?
Poor Guert makes himself known wherever he is!”
“And, often much to his advantage,” I added--a remark that cost me nothing;
but which caused Mary Wallace's face to brighten, and even brought a faint
smile to her lips. “All that is true; yet there _was_ something wild and
unnatural in the woman's manner, as she told these things!”
“All of which you seem determined to keep to yourself?” observed Anneke, as
one asks a question.
“It would hardly do to betray a friend's secrets. Let Guert answer for
himself; he is as frank as broad day, and will not hesitate about letting
you know all.”
“I wish Corny Littlepage were only as frank as twilight!”
“I have nothing to conceal--and least of all from you, Anneke. The
fortune-teller told me that the queen of my heart was the queen of
_too many_ hearts; that the river had done me no harm; and that I must
particularly beware of what she called Knights-Barrow_nights_.”
I watched Anneke closely, as I repeated this warning of Mother Doortje; but
could not read the expression of her sweet and thoughtful countenance. She
neither smiled nor frowned; but she certainly blushed. Of course, she did
not look at me--for that would have been to challenge observation. Mary
Wallace, however, _did_ smile, and she _did_ look at me.
“You believe all the wizzard told you, Corny?” said Anneke, after a short
pause.
“I believed that the queen of my heart was the queen of many hearts; that
the river had done me no harm--though I could not say, or see, that it had
done me much good; and that I had much to fear from Knights-Barrow_nights_.
I believed all this, however, before I ever saw the fortune-teller.”
The next remark that was made came from Anneke, and it referred to the
weather. The season was opening finely, and fast; and it could not be long
before the great movements of the year must commence. Several regiments
had arrived in the colonies, and various officers of note and rank had
accompanied them. Among others who had thus crossed the Atlantic for
the first time, was my Lord Howe, a young soldier of whom fame spoke
favourably, and from whom much was expected in the course of the
anticipated service of the year. While we were talking over these things,
Herman Mordaunt re-entered the room, after a short absence, and he took
me with him to examine his preparations for transporting the ladies to
Ravensnest. As we went along, the discourse was maintained, and I learned
many things from my older and intelligent companion, that were new to me.
“New lords, new laws, they say, Corny,” continued Herman Mordaunt; “and
this Mr. Pitt, the great commoner, as some persons call him, is bent on
making the British empire feel the truth of the axiom. Everything is alive
in the colonies, and the sluggish period of Lord Loudon's command is
passed. Gen. Abercrombie, an officer from whom much is expected, is now at
the head of the King's troops, and there is every prospect of an active
and most important campaign. The disgraces of the few last years _must_ be
wiped out, and the English name be made once more to be dreaded on this
continent. The Lord Howe of whom Anneke spoke, is said to be a young man
of merit, and to possess the blood of our Hanoverian monarchs; his mother
being a half-sister, in the natural way, of his present Majesty.”
Herman Mordaunt then spoke more fully of his own plans for the
summer--expressed his happiness at knowing that Dirck and myself were to be
what he called his neighbours--though, on a more exact computation, it
was ascertained, that the nearest boundaries of the two patents, that of
Ravensnest, and that of Mooseridge, lay quite fourteen miles apart, with a
dense and virgin forest between them. Nevertheless, this would be making us
neighbours, in a certain sense; as gentlemen always call men of their own
class neighbours, when they live within visiting distance, or near enough
to be seen once or twice in a year. And such men _are_ neighbours, in the
sense that is most essential to the term--they know each other better;
understand each other better; sympathize more freely; have more of the
intercourse that makes us judges of motives, principles, and character,
twenty-fold, than he who lives at the gate, and merely sees the owner of
the grounds pass in and out, on his daily avocations. There is, and can
be no greater absurdity, than to imagine that the sheer neighbourhood,
or proximity of position, makes men acquainted. That was one of Jason
Newcome's Connecticut notions. Having been educated in a state of society
in which all associated on a certain footing of intimacy, and in which half
the difficulties that occurred were “told to the church,” he was for ever
fancying he knew all the gentry of Westchester, because he had lived a year
or two in the county; when, in fact, he had never spoken to one in a dozen
of them. I never could drive this notion out of his head, however; for
_looking_ often at a man, or occasionally exchanging a bow with him on the
highway, he would insist was knowing him, or what he called, being “well
acquainted;” a very favourite expression of the Danbury man's; though their
sympathies, habits, opinions, and feelings, created so vast a void between
the parties, they hardly understood each other's terms, and ordinary
language, when they did begin to converse, as sometimes happened.
Notwithstanding all this, Jason insisted to the last that he _knew_ every
gentleman in the county, whom he had been accustomed to hear alluded to in
discourse, and when he had seen them once or twice, though it were only
at church. But Jason had a very flattering notion, generally, of his own
acquisitions on all subjects.
Herman Mordaunt had made careful provision for the contemplated journey;
having caused a covered vehicle to be constructed, that could transport not
only himself and the ladies, but many articles of furniture that would be
required during their residence in the forest. Another conveyance, strong,
spacious, and covered, was also prepared for the blacks, and another
portion of the effects. He pointed out all these arrangements to me with
great satisfaction, dwelling on the affection and spirit of the girls with
a pleasure he did not affect to conceal. For my own part, I have always
been of opinion, that Anneke was solely influenced by pure, natural regard,
in forming her indiscreet resolution; while her father was governed by
the secret expectation that the movement would leave open the means of
receiving visits and communications from Bulstrode, during most of the
summer. I commended the arrangements, made one or two suggestions of my own
in behalf of Anneke and Mary, and we returned to our several homes.
A day or two after this visit to the workshops, and the conversation
related, the ----th took up its line of march for the north. The troops
defiled through the narrow streets in the neighbourhood of the barracks,
half an hour after the appearance of the sun, preceded and followed by a
long train of baggage-wagons. They marched without tents, however, it being
well understood that they were going into a region where the axe could at
any time cover thousands of men, in about the time that a camp could be
laid out, and the canvass spread. Hutting was the usual mode of placing
an army under cover in the forest; and a dozen marches would take the
battalion to the point where it was intended it should remain, as a support
to two or three other corps still further in advance, and to keep open the
communications.
Bulstrode, however, did not quit Albany in company with his regiment. I had
been invited, with Guert and Dirck, to breakfast at Herman Mordaunt's that
morning; and, as we approached the door, I saw the Major's groom walking
his own and his master's horse, in the street, near by. This was a sign we
were to have the pleasure of Bulstrode's company at breakfast. Accordingly,
on entering the room, we found him present, in the uniform of an officer of
his rank, about to commence a march in the forests of America. I thought
him melancholy, as if sad at parting; but my most jealous observation could
detect no sign of similar feeling on the part of Anneke. She was not quite
as gay as usual, but she was far from being sad.
“I leave you, ladies, with the deepest regret,” said Bulstrode, while at
table, “for you have made this country more than a home to me--you have
rendered it _dear_.”
This was said with feeling; more than I had ever seen Bulstrode manifest
before, and more than I had given him credit for possessing. Anneke
coloured a little; but there was no tremor in the beautiful hand, that held
a highly-wrought little tea-pot suspended over a cup, at that very moment.
“We shall soon meet again, Harry,” Herman Mordaunt remarked, in a tone of
strong affection; “for, our party will not be a week behind you. Remember,
we are to be _good_ neighbours, as well as neighbours; and, if the mountain
will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain.”
“Which means, Mr. Bulstrode,” said Mary Wallace, with one of her sweet
smiles, and one that was as open and natural as childhood itself, “that
you are Mahomet, and we are the mountain. Ladies can neither travel, with
comfort, in a wilderness, nor visit a camp, with propriety, if they would.”
“They tell me, I shall not be in a camp at all,” answered the soldier;
“but in good, comfortable log-barracks, that have been built for us by the
battalion we relieve. I am not without hopes, they will be such as even
ladies will not disdain to use, on an emergency. There ought to be no
Mahomet, and no mountain, between such old and intimate friends.”
The conversation then turned on the plans and expectations of the
respective parties; and the usual promises were made, of being sociable
and good neighbours, as had just been suggested. Herman Mordaunt evidently
wished to consider Bulstrode as one of his family; a feeling that might
excuse itself to the world, on the score of consanguinity; but which, it
was easy enough, for me, to see, had its origin in a very different cause.
When Bulstrode rose to take his leave, I wished myself away, on account of
the exhibition of concern it produced; while the desire to watch the effect
on Anneke, would have kept me rooted to the floor, even had it been proper
that I should retire.
Bulstrode was more affected than I could have thought possible. He took one
of Herman Mordaunt's hands into his own, and pressed it warmly, for some
little time, before he could speak at all.
“God only knows what this summer is to see, and whether we are ever to meet
again, or not,” he then said, “but, come what may, the past, the _happy
past_, is so much gained from the commonplace. If you never hear of me
again, my dear kinsman, my letters to England will give you a better
account of my gratitude, than anything I can say in words. They have been
written as your kindnesses have been bestowed; and they faithfully pourtray
the feelings to which your hospitality and friendship have given rise. In
a possible event, I have requested that every one of them may be sent to
America, for your special perusal--”
“Nay, my dear Harry, this is foreboding the very worst,” interrupted
Herman Mordaunt, dashing a tear from his eye, “and is making a very short
separation, a more serious matter than one ought--”
“Nay, sir, a soldier, who is about to be posted within striking distance of
his enemy, can never speak, with confidence, of separations that are to
be short. This campaign will be decisive, for me,”--glancing
towards Anneke--“I must return a conqueror, in one sense, or I do not
wish to return at all. But, God bless you, Herman Mordaunt, as your own
countrymen call you; a thousand years could not efface from my heart, the
remembrance of all your kindness.”
This was handsomely expressed; and the manner in which it was uttered, was
as good as the language. Bulstrode hesitated a moment--looked at the two
girls in doubt--and first approached Mary Wallace.
“Adieu, excellent Mary Wallace,” he said, taking her offered hand, and
kissing it with a freedom from emotion, that denoted it was only friendship
and respect which induced the act--“I believe, you are a severe critic
on Catos and Scrubs; but, I forgive all your particular backbitings,
on account of your general indulgence and probity. You may meet with a
thousand mere acquaintances, before you find another who shall have the
same profound respect for your many virtues, as myself.”
This was handsomely said, too; and it caused Mary Wallace to remove the
handkerchief from her eyes, and to utter her adieus cordially, and with
some emotion. Strangers say that our women want feeling--passion; or, if
they have it, that it is veiled behind a mask of coldness, that takes away
from its loveliness and warmth; that they are girlish and familiar, where
they might better be reserved; and distant, and unnatural, where feeling
and nature ought to assert their sway. That they have less _manner_, in all
respects, in that of self-control, and perhaps of self-respect, in their
ordinary intercourse, and in that of _acting_, where it may seem necessary
so to do, I believe to be true; buts he who denies an American girl a
heart, knows nothing about her. She is _all_ heart; and the apparent
coldness is oftener the consequence of not daring to trust her feelings,
and her general dislike to everything artificial, than to any want of
affections. Two girls, educated, however, as had been Anneke and Mary
Wallace, could not but acquit themselves better, in such a scene, than
those who had been less accustomed to the usages of polite life, which are
always more or less, the usages of convention.
On the present occasion, Mary Wallace was strongly affected; it would not
have been possible, for one of her gentle nature and warm affections, to be
otherwise, when an agreeable companion, one she had now known intimately
near two years, was about to take his leave of her, on an errand that he
himself either thought, or affected so well to seem to think, might lead to
the most melancholy issue. She shook hands with Bulstrode, warmly; wished
him good fortune, and various other pleasant things; thanked him for his
good opinion, and expressed her hope, as well as her belief, that they
should all meet again before the summer was over, and again be happy in
each other's society.
Anneke's turn came next. Her handkerchief was at her eyes; and, when it was
removed, the face was pale, and the cheeks were covered with tears. The
smile that followed, was sweetness itself; and, I will own, it caused me a
most severe pang. To my surprise, Bulstrode said nothing. He took Anneke's
hand, pressed it to his heart, kissed it, left a note in it, bowed, and
moved away. I felt ashamed to watch the countenance of Miss Mordaunt, under
such circumstances, and turned aside, that observation might not increase
the distress and embarrassment she evidently felt. I saw enough,
notwithstanding, to render me more uncertain than ever, as to the success
of my own suit. Anneke's colour had come and gone, as Bulstrode stood near
her, acting his dumb-show of leave-taking; and, to me, she seemed far more
affected than Mary Wallace had been. Nevertheless, her feelings were
always keener and more active than those of her friend; and, that which my
sensitiveness took for the emotion of tenderness, might be nothing more
than ordinary womanly feeling and friendship. Besides, Bulstrode was
actually her relative.
We men all attended Bulstrode to his horse. He shook us cordially by the
hand; and, after he had got into the saddle, he said--“This summer will be
warmer than is usual, even in your warmy-cold climate. My letters from home
give me reason to think that there is, at last, a man of talents at the
head of affairs; and the British empire is likely to feel the impulse he
will give it, at its most remote extremities. I shall expect you three
young men to join the ----th, as volunteers, as soon as you hear of our
moving in advance. I wish I had a thousand like you; for that affair of the
river tells where a man will be found when the time comes. God bless you,
Corny!” leaning forward in his saddle, to give me another shake of the
hand; “we _must_ remain friends, _coute qui couté_.”
There was no withstanding this frankness, and so much good-temper. We shook
hands most cordially; Bulstrode raised his hat and bowed; after which
he rode away, as I fancied, at a slow, thoughtful, reluctant pace.
Notwithstanding the kindness of this parting, I had more cause than ever to
regret Bulstrode had appeared among us; and the scenes of that morning only
confirmed me in a resolution, previously adopted, not to urge Anneke to any
decision, in my case, at a moment when I felt there might be so much danger
it would be adverse.