There was a pause broken by the mender of nets.
"Thou art no willing slave, I trow. The thought of escape is ever with
thee."
"I shall escape," said Landless deliberately. "And if they track me
they shall not take me alive."
The mender of nets gave a melancholy smile. "They would track you, never
fear!" He leaned forward and touched Landless with his hand. "What if
I show you a better way?" he asked in a whisper.
"What way?"
"A way to recover your liberty, and with it, the liberty of downtrodden
brethren. A way to raise the banner of the Commonwealth and to put down
the Stuart."
Landless stared. "A miserable hut," he said, "in the midst of a
desolate Virginia marsh, and within it, a brace of slaves, the one a
cripple, the other a convict,--and Charles Stuart on his throne in
Whitehall! Friend, this dismal place hath turned your wits!"
The other smiled. "My wits are sound," he said, "as sound as they were
upon that day when I gave my voice for the death (a sad necessity!) of
this young man's father. And I do not think to shake England,--I speak
of Virginia."
"Of Virginia!"
"Yea, of this goodly land, a garden spot, a new earth where should be
planted the seeds of a mighty nation, strong in justice and simple
right, wise, temperate, brave; an enlightened people, serving God in
spirit and in truth, not with the slavish observance of prelatist and
papist, nor with the indecent familiarity of the Independent; loyal to
their governors, but exercising the God-given right of choosing those
who are to rule over them: a people amongst whom liberty shall walk
unveiled, and to whom Astroea shall come again; a people as free as the
eagle I watched this morning, soaring higher and ever higher, strongly
and proudly, rejoicing in its progress heavenward."
"In other words, a republic," said Landless dryly.
"Why not?" answered the other with shining, unseeing eyes. "It is a
dream we dreamed ten years ago, I and Vane and Sidney and Marten and
many others,--but Oliver rudely wakened us. Then it was by the banks of
the Thames, and it was for England. Now, on the shores of Chesapeake I
dream again, and it is for Virginia. You smile!"
"Have you considered, sir,--I do not know your name."
"Robert Godwyn is my name."
"Have you considered, Master Godwyn, that the Virginians do not want a
republic, that they are more royalist and prelatical than are their
brethren at home; that they out-Herod Herod in their fantastic loyalty?"
"That is true of the class with whom you have come into contact,--of the
masters. But there is much disaffection among the people at large. And
there are the Nonconformists, the Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists,
even the Quakers, though they say they fight not. To them all, Charles
Stuart is the Pharaoh whose heart the Lord hardened, and William
Berkeley is his task-master."
"Any one else?"
"There are those of the gentry who were Commonwealth's men, and who
chafe sorely under the loss of office and disfavor into which they have
fallen."
"And these all desire a republic?"
"They desire the downfall of the royalists with William Berkeley at
their head. The republic would follow."
"And when a handful of Puritan gentlemen, a few hundred Nonconformists,
and the rabble of the colony shall have executed this project, have
usurped the government, dethroning the king, or his governor, which is
the same thing,--then will come in from the mouth of Thames a couple of
royal frigates and blow your infant republic into space."
"I do not think so. Thu frigates would come undoubtedly, but I am of
another opinion as to the result of their coming. They would not take
us unprepared as those of the Commonwealth took William Berkeley in
fifty-two. And with a plentiful lack of money and a Dutch war
threatening, Charles Stuart could not send unlimited frigates.
Moreover, if Virginia revolted, Puritan New England would follow her
example, and she would find allies in the Dutch of New Amsterdam."
"You spin large fancies," said Landless, with some scorn. "I suppose
you are plotting with these gentlemen you speak of?"
"No," said the man, with a scarcely perceptible hesitation. "No, they
are few in number and scattered. Moreover, they might plot amongst
themselves but never with--a servant."
"Then you are concerned with the Nonconformists?"
"The Nonconformists are timid, and dream not that the day of deliverance
is at hand."
Landless began to laugh. "Do you mean to say," he demanded, "that you
and I, for I suppose you count on my assistance, are to enact a kind of
Pride's Purge of our own? That we are to drive from the land the King's
Governor, Council, Burgesses and trainbands; sweep into the bay Sir
William Berkeley and Colonel Verney, and all those gold-laced planters
who dined with him the other day? That we are to take possession of the
colony as picaroons do of a vessel, and hoisting our flag,--a crutch
surmounted by a ball and chain on a ground sable,--proclaim a republic?"
"Not we alone."
"Oh, ay! I forgot the worthy Muggletonian."
"He is but one of many," said the mender of nets.
Landless leaned forward, a light growing in his eyes. "Speak out!" he
said. "What is it that will break this chain?"
The mender of nets, too, bent forward from his settle until his breath
mingled with the breath of the younger man.
"A slave insurrection," he said.
*CHAPTER VII*
*A MENDER OF NETS*
"A slave insurrection!"
Landless, recoiling, struck with his shoulder the torch, which fell to
the floor. The flame went out, leaving only a red gleaming end. "I
will get another," said the mender of nets, and limped to the corner
where the shadow had been thickest. Landless, left in darkness, heard a
faint muttering as though Master Robert Godwyn were talking to himself.
It took some time to find the torch; but at length Godwyn returned with
one in his hand, and kindled it at the expiring light.
Landless rose from his seat, and strode to and fro through the hut. His
pulses beat to bursting; there was a tingling at his finger-tips; to his
startled senses the hut seemed to expand, to become a cavern,
interminable and unfathomable, wide as the vaulted earth, filled with
awful, shadowy places and strange, lurid lights. The mender of nets
became a far-off sphinx-like figure.
Godwyn watched him in silence. He had a large knowledge of human
nature, and he saw into the mind and heart of the restless figure. He
himself was a philosopher, and wore his chains lightly, but he guessed
that the iron had entered deeply into the soul of the man before him.
The sturdy peasants, indented servants with but a few short years to
serve, better fed and better clad than their fellows at home, found life
on a Virginia plantation no sweet or easy thing; the political and
ecclesiastical offenders enjoyed it still less, while the small criminal
class found their punishment quite sufficiently severe. To this man the
life must be a slow _peine fort et dure_, breaking his body with toil,
crushing his soul with a hopeless degradation. The thought of escape
must be ever present with him. But escape in the conventional manner,
through pathless forests and over broad streams, was a thing rarely
attained to. Ninety-nine out of a hundred failed; and the last state of
the man who failed was worse than his first.
Landless strode over to the table, and leaned his weight upon it.
"Listen!" he said. "God knows I am a desperate man! My attempt to
escape failing, there is naught but his word between me and the deepest
pool of these waters. I am no saint. I hate my enemies. Restore to me
my sword, pit me against them one by one, and I will fight my way to
freedom or die.... A fair fight, too, a rising of the people against
oppression; a challenge to the oppressor to do his worst; a gallant
leading of a forlorn hope.... But a slave insurrection! a midnight
butchery! There was one who used to tell me tales of such risings in
the Indies. Murder and rapine, fire rising through the night, planters
cut down at their very thresholds, shrieking women tortured, children
flung into the flames,--a carnival of blood and horror!"
"We are not in the Indies," said the other quietly. "There will be no
such devil's work here. Sit down and listen while I put the thing
before you as it is. There are, most iniquitously held as slaves in this
Virginia, some four hundred Commonwealth's men, each one of whom, at
home and in his own station, was a man of mark. Many were Ironsides.
And each one is a force in himself,--cool, determined, intrepid,--and
wholly desperate. With them are many victims of the Act of Uniformity,
godly men, eaten up with zeal. For their freedom they would dare much;
for their faith they would spill every drop of their blood."
"They are like our friend, the Muggletonian, fanatics all, I suppose,"
said Landless.
"Possibly. Your fanatic is the best fighting machine yet invented. Do
you not see that these two classes form a regiment against which no
trainbands, no force which these planters could raise, would stand?"
"But they are scattered, dispersed through the colony!"
"Ay, but they can be brought together! And to that end, seeing how few
there are upon any one plantation, upon the day when they rise, they
must raise with them servants and slaves. Then will they overpower
masters and overseers, and gathering to one point, form there a force
which will beat down all opposition. It is simple enough. We will but
do that which it was proposed to do ten years ago. You know the
instructions given by the Parliament to the four commissioners?"
"They were to summon the colony to surrender to the Commonwealth. If it
did so, well and good; if not, war was to be declared, and the servants
invited to rise against their masters and so purchase their freedom."
"Precisely. Berkeley submitted, and there was no rising. This time
there will be no summons, but a rising, and a very great one. It will
be, primarily, a rising of four hundred Oliverians, strong to avenge
many and grievous wrongs; but with them will rise servants and slaves,
and to the banner of the Commonwealth, beneath which they will march,
will flock every Nonconformist in the land, and, when success is
assured, then will come in and give us weight and respectability those
(and they are not a few) of the better classes who long in their hearts
for the good days of the Commonwealth, and yet dare not lift a finger to
bring them back."
"And the royalists?"
"If they resist, their blood be upon them! But there shall be no
carnage, no butchery. And if they submit they shall be unmolested, even
as they were ten years ago. There is land enough for all."
"The servants and slaves?"
"They that join with us, of whatever class, shall be freed."
"This insurrection is actually in train?"
"Let us call it a revolution. Yes, it is in train as far as regards the
Oliverians. We have but begun to sound servants and slaves."
"And you?"
"I am, for lack of a better, General to the Oliverians."
"And you believe yourself able to control these motley forces,--men
wronged and revengeful, fanatics, peasants, brutal negroes, mulattoes
(whom they say are devils), convicts,--to say to them, 'Thus far must
you go, and no farther.' You invoke a fiend that may turn and rend
you!"
Godwyn shaded his eyes with his hand. "Yes," he said at last, speaking
with energy. "I do believe it! I know it is a desperate game; but the
stake! I believe in myself. And I have four hundred able adjutants,
men who are to me what his Ironsides were to Oliver, but none--" he
stretched out his hand, thin, white, and delicate as a woman's, and laid
it upon the brown one resting upon the table. "Lad," he said in a
gravely tender voice, "I have none upon this plantation in whom I can
put absolute trust. There are few Oliverians here, and they are like
Win-Grace Porringer, in whom zeal hath eaten up discretion. Lad, I need
a helper! I have spoken to you freely; I have laid my heart before you;
and why? Because I, who was and am a gentleman, see in you a gentleman,
because I would take your word before all the oaths of all the peasant
servants in Virginia, because you have spirit and judgment; because,--in
short, because I could love you as I loved your father before you. You
have great wrongs. We will right them together. Be my lieutenant, my
confidant, my helper! Come! put your hand in mine and say, 'I am with
you, Robert Godwyn, heart and soul.'"
Landless sprang to his feet. "It were easy to say that," he said
hoarsely, "for, in all the two years I lay rotting in prison, and in
these weeks of sordid misery here in Virginia, yours is the only face
that has looked kindly upon me, yours the only voice that has told me I
was believed.... But it is a fearful thing you propose! If all go as
you say it will,--why WELL! but if not, Hell will be in the land. I
must have time to think, to judge for myself, to decide--"
The door swung stealthily inward, and in the opening appeared the dead
white face, with the great letter sprawling over it, of Master Win-Grace
Porringer.
"There are boats on the creek." he said. "Two coming up, one coming
down."
Godwyn nodded. "I hold conference to-night with men from this and the
two neighboring plantations. You will stay where you are and see and
hear them. Only you must be silent; for they must not know that you are
not entirely one with us, as I am well assured you will be."
"They are Oliverians?"
"All but two or three."
"I secured the mulatto," interrupted the Muggletonian.
"Ay," said Godwyn, "I thought it well to have one slave representative
here to-night. These mulattoes are devils; but they can plot, and they
can keep a still tongue. But I shall not trust him or his kind too
far."
The peculiar knock--four strokes in all--sounded upon the door, and
Porringer went to it. "Who is there?" passed on the one side, and "The
sword of the Lord and of Gideon" on the other. The door swung open, and
there entered two men of a grave and determined cast of countenance.
Both had iron-gray hair, and one was branded upon the forehead with the
letter that appeared upon the cheek of the Muggletonian. Again the
knock sounded, the countersign was given, and the door opened to admit a
pale, ascetic-looking youth, with glittering eyes and a crimson spot on
each cheek, who stooped heavily and coughed often. He was followed by
another stern-faced Commonwealth's man, and he in turn by a brace of
broad-visaged rustics and a smug-faced man, who looked like a small
shop-keeper. After an interval came two more Oliverians, grim of eye,
and composed in manner.
Last of all came the mulatto of the pale amber color and the gold
ear-rings; and with him came the long-nosed, twitching-lipped convict in
whose company Landless had crossed the Atlantic. His name was Trail;
and Landless, knowing him for a villainous rogue, started at finding him
amongst the company.
His presence there was evidently unexpected; Godwyn frowned and turned
sharply upon the mulatto. "Who gave you leave to bring this man?" he
demanded sternly.
The mulatto was at no loss. "Worthy Senors all," he said smoothly,
addressing himself to the company in general. "This Senor Trail is a
good man, as I have reason to know. Once we were together in San
Domingo, slave to a villainous cavalier from Seville. With the help of
St. Jago and the Mother of God, we killed him and made our escape. Now,
after many years, we meet here in a like situation. I answer for my
friend as I answer for myself, myself, Luiz Sebastian, the humble and
altogether-devoted servant of you all, worshipful Senors."
The man with the branded forehead muttered something in which the only
distinguishable words were, "Scarlet woman," and "Papist half-breed,"
and the smug-faced man cried out, "Trail is a forger and thief! I
remember his trial at the Bailey, a week before I signed as storekeeper
to Major Carrington."
This speech of the smug-faced man created something of a commotion, and
one or two started to their feet. The mulatto looked about him with an
evil eye.
"My friend has been in trouble, it is true," he said, still very
smoothly. "He will not make the worse conspirator for that. And why,
worthy Senors, should you make a difference between him and one other I
see in company? Mother of God! they are both in the same boat!" He
fixed his large eyes on Landless as he spoke, and his thick lips curled
into a tigerish smile.
Landless half rose, but Godwyn laid a detaining hand upon his arm. "Be
still," he said in a low voice, "and let me manage this matter."
Landless obeyed, and the mender of nets turned to the assembly, who by
this time were looking very black.
"Friends," he said with quiet impressiveness, "I think you know me,
Robert Godwyn, well enough to know that I make no move in these great
matters without good and sufficient reason. I have good and sufficient
reason for wishing to associate with us this young man,--yea, even to
make him a leader among us. He is one of us--he fought at Worcester.
And that he is an innocent man, falsely accused, falsely imprisoned,
wrongfully sent to the plantations, I well believe,--for I will believe
no wrong of the son of Warham Landless."
There was a loud murmur of surprise through the room, and one of the
Oliverians sprung to his feet, crying out, "Warham Landless was my
colonel! I will follow his son were he ten times a convict!"
Godwyn waited for the buzz of voices to cease and then calmly proceeded,
"As to this man whom Luiz Sebastian hath brought with him, I know
nothing. But it matters little. Sooner or later we must engage his
class,--as well commence with him as with another. He will be faithful
for his own sake."
The dark faces of his audience cleared gradually. Only the youth with
the hectic cheeks cried out, "I have hated the congregation of evil
doers, and I will not sit with the wicked!" and rose as if to make for
the door. Win-Grace Porringer pulled him down with a muttered, "Curse
you for a fool! Shall not the Lord shave with a hired razor? When
these men have done their work, then shall they be cut down and cast
into outer darkness, until when, hold thy peace!"
The company now applied itself to the transaction of business. Trail
was duly sworn in, not without a deal of oily glibness and unnecessary
protestation on his part. The man who held the little, worn Bible now
turned to Landless, but upon Godwyn's saying quietly, "I have already
sworn him," the book was returned to the bosom of its owner.
Each conspirator had his report to make. Landless listened with grave
attention and growing wonder to long lists of plantations and the
servant and slave force thereon; to news from the up-river estates, and
from the outlying settlements upon the Rappahannock and the Pamunkey,
and from across the bay in Accomac; to accounts of secret arsenals
slowly filling with rude weapons; to allusions to the well-affected
sailors on board those ships that were likely to be in harbor during the
next two months;--to the details of a formidable and far-reaching
conspiracy.
The Oliverians spoke of the hour in which this mine should be sprung as
the great and appointed day of the Lord, the day when the Lord was to
stretch forth his hand and smite the malignants, the day when Israel
should be delivered out of the hand of Pharaoh. The branded man
apostrophized Godwyn as Moses. Their stern and rigid features relaxed,
their eyes glistened, their breath came short and thick. Once the youth
who had wished to avoid the company of the wicked broke into hysterical
sobbing. The two rustics spoke little, but possibly thought the more.
To them the day of the Lord translated itself the day of their obtaining
a freehold. The smug-faced shopkeeper put in his oar now and again, but
only to be swept aside by the torrent of Biblical quotation. The newly
admitted Trail kept a discreet silence, but used his furtive greenish
eyes to good purpose. Luiz Sebastian sat with the stillness of a great,
yellow, crouching tiger cat.
Godwyn heard all in silence. Not till the last man had had his say did
he begin to speak, approving, suggesting, directing, moulding in his
facile hands the incongruous and disjointed mass of information and
opinion into a rounded whole. The men, listening to him with breathless
attention, gave grim nods of approval. At one point of his discourse
the branded man cried out:--
"If the Puritan gentry you talk of would gird themselves like men, and
come forth to the battle, how quickly would the Lord's work be done!
They are the drones within the hive! They expect the honey, but do not
the work."
"It is so," said Godwyn, "but they have lands and goods and fame to
lose. We have naught to lose--can be no worse off than we are now."
"If the Laodicean, Carrington,"--began the branded man.
Godwyn interrupted him. "This is beside the matter. Major Carrington
is a godly man who hath, though in secret, done many kindnesses to us
poor prisoners of the Lord. Let us be content with that."
A moment later he said, "It waxeth late, friends, and loath would I be
for one of you to be discovered. Come to me again a week from to-night.
The word will be, 'The valley of Jehoshaphat.'"
The conspirators dropped away, in twos and threes gliding silently off
in their stolen boats between the walls of waving grass. When, last of
all save Landless and the Muggletonian, Trail and Luiz Sebastian
approached the door, Godwyn stopped them with a gesture.
"Stay a moment," he said. "I have a word to say to you. We may as well
be frank with you. I distrust you, of course. It is natural that I
should. And you distrust me as much. It is natural that you should. I
would do without the aid of you and the class you represent if I could,
but I cannot. You would do without my aid if you could, but you cannot.
Betray me, and whatever blood money you get, it will not be that freedom
which you want. We are obliged to work together, unequal yoke-fellows
as we are. Do I make myself understood?"
"To a marvel, Senor," said Luiz Sebastian.
"Damn my soul, but you 're a sharp one!" said Trail.
Godwyn smiled. "That is enough, we understand one another.
Good-night."
The two glided off in their turn, and Godwyn said to the Muggletonian,
"Friend Porringer, that mended sail must be bestowed in the large boat
before the hut against Haines' coming for it in the morning. Will you
take it to the boat for me? And if you will wait there this young man
shall join you shortly."
The Muggletonian nodded, piled the heap of dingy sail upon his head and
strode off. The mender of nets turned to Landless.
"Well," he said. "What do you think?"
"I think," said Landless, raising his voice, "that the gentleman in the
dark corner must be tired of standing."
There was a dead silence. Then a piece of shadow detached itself from
the other heavy shadows in the dark corner and came forward into the
torch light, where it resolved itself into a handsome figure of a man,
apparently in the prime of life, and wearing a riding cloak of green
cloth and a black riding mask. Not content with the concealment afforded
by the mask, he had pulled his beaver low over his eyes and with one
hand held the folds of the cloak about the lower part of his face. He
rested the other ungloved hand upon the table and stared fixedly at
Landless. "You have good eyes," he said at last, in a voice as muffled
as his countenance.
"It is a warm night," said Landless with a smile. "If Major Carrington
would drop that heavy cloak, he would find it more comfortable."
The man recoiled. "You know me!" he cried incredulously.
"I know the Carrington arms and motto. _Tenax et Fidelis_, is it not?
You should not wear your signet ring when you go a-plotting."
The Surveyor-General of the Colony dropped his cloak, and springing
forward seized Landless by the shoulders.
"You dog!" he hissed between his teeth, "if you dare betray me, I 'll
have every drop of your blood lashed out of your body!"
Landless wrenched himself free. "I am no traitor," he said coldly.
Carrington recovered himself. "Well, well," he said, still breathing
hastily, "I believe you. I heard all that passed to-night, and I
believe you. You have been a gentleman."
"Had I my sword, I should be happy to give Major Carrington proof," said
Landless sternly.
The other smiled. "There, there, I was hasty, but by Heaven! you gave
me a start! I ask your pardon."
Landless bowed, and the mender of nets struck in. "I was sorry to keep
you so long, Major Carrington, in such an uncomfortable position. But
the arrival of the Muggletonian before he was due, together with your
desire for secrecy, left me no alternative."
"I surmise, friend Godwyn, that you would not have been sorry had this
young man proclaimed his discovery in full conclave," said Carrington
with a keen glance.
Godwyn's thin cheek flushed, but he answered composedly, "It is
certainly true that I would like to see Major Carrington committed
beyond withdrawal to this undertaking. But he will do me the justice to
believe that if, by raising my finger, I could so commit him, I would
not do so without his permission."
"Faith, it is so!" said the other, then turned to Landless with a stern
smile. "You will understand, young man, that Miles Carrington never
attended, nor will attend, a meeting wherein the peace of the realm is
conspired against by servants. If Miles Carrington ever visits Robert
Godwyn, servant to Colonel Verney, 't is simply to employ him (with his
master's consent) in the mending of nets, or to pass an idle hour
reading Plato, Robert Godwyn having been a scholar of note at home."
"Certainly," said Landless, answering the smile. "Major Carrington and
Master Godwyn are at present much interested in the philosopher's pretty
but idle conception of a Republic, wherein philosophers shall rule, and
warriors be the bulwark of the state, and no Greek shall enslave a
fellow Greek, but only outer barbarians--all of which is vastly pretty
on paper--but they agree that it would turn the world upside down were
it put into practice."
"Precisely," said Carrington with a smile.
"You had best be off, lad," put in Godwyn. "Woodson is an early riser,
and he must not catch you gadding.... You will think on what you have
heard to-night, and will come to me again as soon as you can make
opportunity?"
"Yes," said Landless slowly. "I will come, but I make no promises."
He found Porringer seated in their boat, patiently awaiting him. They
cast off and rowed back the way they had come through the stillness of
the hour before dawn. The tide being full, the black banks had
disappeared, and the grass, sighing and whispering, waved on a level
with their boat. When they slid at last into the broader waters of the
inlet, the stars were paling, and in the east there gleamed a faint rose
tint, the ghost of a color. A silver mist lay upon land and water, and
through it they stole undetected to their several cabins.
Meanwhile the two men, left alone in the hut on the marsh, looked one
another in the face.
"Are you sure that he can be trusted?" demanded Carrington.
"I would answer for his father's son with my life."
"What of these scruples of his? Faith! an unusual conjunction--a
convict and scruples! Will you manage to dispose of them?"
Godwyn smiled with wise, sad eyes. "Time will dispose of them," he said
quietly. "He is new to the life. Let him taste its full bitterness.
It will plead powerfully against his--scruples. He has as yet no
special and private grievance. Wait until he gets into trouble with
Woodson or his master. When he has done that and has taken the
consequences, he will be ours. We can bide our time."
*CHAPTER VIII*
*THE NEW SECRETARY*
"Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
That, from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I flee....
"Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore.
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more."
The rich notes rang higher and higher, filling the languid air, and
drowning the trill of the mockingbirds. Patricia, filling her apron with
midsummer flowers, sang with a careless passion, her mind far away in
the midst of a Whitehall pageant, described to her the night before by
that silver-tongued courtier, Sir Charles Carew.
Still singing, she went up the steps of the porch and into the cool wide
hall. In her face there was a languorous beauty born of the sunshine
outside; a soft color glowed in her cheeks, her eyes were large and
dreamy, little damp tendrils of gold strayed about her temples. She
threw down her hat, and loosened the kerchief of delicate lawn from
about her warm young throat; then, with the flowers still in her arms,
she raised the latch of the door of a room held sacred to Colonel
Verney, and entered, to find herself face to face with the convict,
Godfrey Landless, who sat at a table covered with papers, busily
writing.
She started violently, and the mass of flowers fell to the floor,
shattering the petals from the roses and poppies. Landless came
forward, knelt down, and, picking them up, restored them to her without
a word.
"I thank you," she said coldly. "I thought my father was here."
"Colonel Verney is in the next room, madam."
She moved to the door leading into the great room with the gait of a
princess, and Landless went back to his work.
Colonel Verney, on his knees before the richly carven chest containing
his library, looked up from the two score volumes to behold a mass of
brilliant blooms transferred from two white arms to the ground outside
the open window.
"Well, sweetheart," he said. "What is it?"
"Papa," she said, coming to his side, and looking down upon him with a
vexed face: "you promised me that you would employ no more convicts in
the house."
"Why, so I did, my dear," answered her father, comfortably seating
himself upon "Purchas: His Pilgrimmes." "And I meant to keep my word,
but this is the way of it. The day after you went to Rosemead with
Betty Carrington, down comes young Shaw with the fever, and has to be
sent home to his mother. His illness came at a precious inconvenient
season, for the gout was in my fingers again, and I was bent on
disappointing William Berkeley, who hath wagered a thousand pounds of
sweet scented that my 'Statement of the Evil Wrought by the Navigation
Laws to His Majesty's Colony of Virginia' won't be finished in time for
the sailing of the God-Speed. So I told Woodson to find me some one
among the men who knew how to write. He brought me this fellow, and I
vow he is an improvement on young Shaw. He does n't ask questions, and
he is a very pretty Latinist. The paper will be finished to-day. I was
but searching for a neat quotation to close with. Then the fellow will
go back to the tobacco, and you will be no longer annoyed by his
presence in the house. Now kiss me, sweet chuck, and begone, for I am
busied upon affairs of state."
Left alone, Colonel Verney pored over his books until he found what he
wanted, when, after rearranging his library in the carved chest, he rose
stiffly to his feet, and went into the next room and up to the
writing-table. Landless rose from his seat, and, resigning it to his
master, stood gravely by while the Colonel looked over the manuscript
upon which he had been employed.
"Ha!" said the Colonel. "A very fair copy! You have numbered and
headed the pages, I observe. Let me see, let me see, let me see," and
he ran them over between his fingers. "Oppressive Nature of the
Act.--Grave Dissatisfaction.--It advantageth No One save Small Traders
at Home.--Increase of Revenue to His Majesty if 't were repealed.--Dutch
Bottoms.--Trade with Russia.--His Majesty's Poor Planters Throw
Themselves upon His Majesty's Mercy. Very good, very good!"
"It is nigh finished, sir," said Landless.
"Ay, ay! By the Lord Harry, William Berkeley will repent his wager! A
pretty paper it is, and containeth many excellent points and much good
Latin, and you have copied it fairly and cleanly. It is a pity, my
man," he added not unkindly, "that you should have lived so evilly as to
bring yourself to this pass, for you have in you the making of an
excellent secretary."
"Is it your will, sir, that I finish the copy now?"
"Yes, but take it to the small table within the window there. I myself
will sit here and jot down some ideas for my dedication which you can
afterwards amplify."
The worthy colonel pulled the big Turkey worked chair closer to the
table, turned back his ruffles and fell to work. Landless retired to
the table within the window, and for a while naught was heard in the
quiet room but the scratching of quills, as master and man drove them
across the whitey-brown sheets.
At length the master pushed his chair back and stretched himself with a
prodigious yawn. "The Lord be thanked!" he said, addressing the air.
"That's done! And it is time to see to the dressing of that sore upon
Prince Rupert's shoulder; and I remember Haines said that one of the
hounds had been gored by Carrington's bull. Haines can't dress a wound.
Haines is a bungler. But, by the Lord Harry! Richard Verney is as good
a veterinary as he is a statesman."
He lifted his burly figure from the depths of the chair, and going over
to Landless, dropped upon the table before him a page of hieroglyphics
for him to decipher at his leisure. Then with another word of
commendation for the beauty of the copy, he walked heavily from the
room. A moment later Landless heard him whistle to his dogs, and then
break into a stave of a cavalier drinking song, sung at the top of a
full manly voice, and dying away in the direction of the stables.
Landless' hand moved to and fro across the paper with a tireless
patience. He did not go back to the central table, for the light was
better in the window, and a vagrant breath of air strayed in now and
then. The window was a deep one, and heavy drugget curtains hung between
it and the rest of the room.
The door opened and a man's voice said: "This room is darkened into
delicious coolness. Shall we try it, cousin?"
Patricia entered like a sunbeam, and after her sauntered Sir Charles
Carew, languid, debonair, and perfectly appareled.
Landless, seeing them plainly, did not realize that in the shadow of the
heavy curtains he was himself unseen. He had grown so accustomed to the
quiet insolence that overlooks the presence of an inferior as it does
that of any other article of furniture, that he did not doubt that the
fine lady and gentleman before him were perfectly aware of the presence
in the room of the slave whom his master's caprice had raised for the
moment to the post of secretary. It was some few minutes before he
began to consider within himself that he might be mistaken.
*CHAPTER IX*
*AN INTERRUPTED WOOING*
Sir Charles pushed forward the big chair for Patricia, and himself
dropped upon a stool at her feet. Taking her fan from her, he began to
play with it, lightly commenting on the picture of the Rape of Europa
with which it was adorned. Suddenly he closed it, tossed it aside, and
leaning forward, possessed himself of her hand.
"Madam, sweet cousin, divinest Patricia," he exclaimed in a carefully
impassioned tone; "do you not know that I am your slave, the captive of
your bow and spear, that I adore you? I adore you! and you,
flinty-hearted goddess, give no word of encouragement to your prostrate
worshiper. You trample upon the offering of sighs and tears which he
lays at your feet; you will not listen when he would pour into your ear
his aspirations towards a sweeter and richer life than he has ever
known. Will it be ever thus? Will not the goddess stoop from her
throne to make him the happiest of mortals, to win his eternal
gratitude, to become herself forever the object of the most respectful,
the most ardent, the most devoted love?"
He flung himself upon his knee and pressed her hand to his heart with
passion not all affected. He had come to consider it a piece of
monstrous good luck, that, since he must make a wealthy match,
Providence (or whatever as a Hobbist he put in place of Providence),
had, in pointing him the fortune, pointed also to Patricia Verney. But
the night before, in the privacy of his chamber, he had suddenly sat up
between the Holland sheets with a startled and amused expression upon
his handsome face, swathed around with a wonderful silken night-cap, and
had exclaimed to the carven heads surmounting the bed-posts, "May the
Lard sink me! but I 'm in love!" and had lain down again with an
astonished laugh. While sipping his morning draught he made up his mind
to secure the prize that very day, in pursuance of which determination
he made a careful toilet, assuming a suit that was eminently becoming to
his blonde beauty. Also his valet slightly darkened the lower lids of
his eyes, thereby giving him a larger, more languishing and melancholy
aspect.
Patricia, from the depths of the Turkey worked chair, gazed with calm
amusement upon her kneeling suitor.
"You talk beautifully, cousin," she said at length. "'Tis as good as a
page from 'Artemene.'"
Sir Charles bit his lip. "It is a page from my heart, madam; nay, it is
my heart itself that I show you."
"And would you forsake all those beautiful ladies who are so madly in
love with you?--I vow, sir, you told me so yourself! Let me see, there
was Lady Mary and Lady Betty, Mistress Winifred, the Countess of ----
and Madame la Duchesse de ----. Will Corydon leave all the nymphs
lamenting to run after a little salvage wench who does not want him?"
"'S death, madam! you mock me!" cried the baronet, starting to his feet.
"Sure, I meant no harm, cousin; I but put in a good word for the poor
ladies at Whitehall. I fear that you are but a recreant wooer."
"Will you marry me, madam?" demanded Sir Charles, standing before her
with folded arms.