"No matter how: I know it."
Porringer raised his scarred face to heaven. "God," he said, "we are
thy people! Save us! Let destruction come upon them unawares; let them
go down a dark and slippery way to death; make them to be as blind and
deaf adders that see not the foot of the destroyer! Yea, shake thy hand
upon these Malignants and make them a spoil to their servants!" He
turned his ghastly face and burning eyes upon Landless. "Curse them with
me!" he cried.
Landless shook his head. "Thou and I look not alike at things, friend,"
he said.
"Thou art a Laodicean!" cried the other wildly. "Thou hast not an eye
single to the Lord's work as had thy father before thee. Thou wouldst
not smite the Amalekites hip and thigh, root and branch! One damsel
would thou save alive, and for her sake thy heart is soft towards the
whole accursed brood! Look to it lest the Lord spew thee out of His
mouth! Woe, woe, to him that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh
back!" He laughed wildly and tossed out his arms.
"I think thou hast eaten of the Jamestown weed!" said Landless fiercely.
"Collect thy senses, man! And speak something less loudly, or Roach's
betrayal will be superfluous. As to myself, if I curse not, I act; and
as for my motives for what you call lukewarmness, and I call common
humanity, you will please to let them alone!"
The excitement faded from the fanatic's face, and he said more quietly,
"You are right, friend. I was mad for a moment, mad to see that freedom
which is so near us so imperiled. I meant not to quarrel with you who
have shown in the conduct of this work the discernment of a young
Daniel, yea, who have so borne yourself, that I have grown to care for
you as I never thought to care again for human being. I have prayed
much that you should be brought from the twilight of Calvinism into the
pure light wherein walk the disciples of the blessed Ludovick."
They reached the square and mingled with the motly crowd that lined its
sides, leaving the centre occupied only by the murderer, his captors,
and the master. Followed by the Muggletonian, Landless made his way to
where the yellow locks of young Dick Whittington towered above the
crowd. The boy saw him coming, and edging past a knot of blacks, met
him in a little open space, whose only occupants were two or three
women, and an Indian squatting upon the ground. Leaning against a pine,
and fixing his gaze and, to all appearance, his attention upon the
central group where the overseer was just finishing a circumstantial
account of the chase, Landless said quietly:--
"You were of the party that took him?"
"That I was!" answered the boy gleefully. "Losh! but it was fun!" His
blue eyes danced with impish delight; a noiseless laugh showed all his
strong white teeth. "We went straight to the spot where you and
Mistress Patricia saw him by the lightning. There the dogs struck his
trail and the fun commenced. Over streams and fallen trees, and
chinquepin ridges; through bogs and myrtle thickets and miles of grape
vines--swounds! but it was hot work! Just look at the scratches on my
face and hands! Joyce Whitbread would n't know me! The Court spark, he
wore a mask and saved his beauty. He's a well-plucked one, though, took
the lead and kept it, and when it was over, treated us to usquebaugh at
Luckey Doughty's store. Well, we run the fox to earth in a Chickahominy
village. Lord! I 'm sorry for the half king of the Chickahominies!
He'll have to answer to Governor and Council for letting red fox burrow
in his village. Found him squatted in a sassafras patch. Snarled and
fought and tried to bite like the beast he is. Woodson and the Court
spark took him."
"Do you know what will be done with him now?"
"He 'll be taken on to the gaol at the court-house."
"That is five miles from here," said Landless.
"Yes, near to the village where we took him. He 'll be kept there until
they can try him. And they'll make short work of him. He 'll be food
for crows directly."
The throng pressed upon them, forcing them nearer to the group beneath
the dead tree. The overseer had finished his account, and the master
was clearing his throat to speak. Landless found himself upon the inner
verge of the mass of spectators, directly opposite the murderer, and
confronted by him with a look so dark, wild and malignant, that he could
not doubt the intention that lay behind those scowling eyes. Luiz
Sebastian, still with the murderer's arm in his grasp, gave him a
peculiar look which he could not translate. In the background he saw
Trail's sinister face peering over the shoulder of an Indian.
"You dog!" said the planter, addressing himself directly to Roach.
"What have you to say for yourself?"
The murderer made an uncertain sound with his dry lips, and his
bloodshot eyes roamed around the circle from one staring face to
another, until they returned to rest upon the watchful, amber-hued
countenance beside him.
"Speak!" said his master sternly.
"I 'll say nothing," was the dogged reply, "until I stands my trial. I
demands a fair trial."
"Remember that this is your last chance to speak to me, to speak to any
one in authority before you are tried. Of course you will hang for
this. Have you anything to say? Do you wish to speak to me in
private?"
The murderer raised his head, and shaking the tangled hair from about
his face, cast at Landless, standing ten paces beyond the planter, such
a look of deadly and blasting hatred, that for a moment the blood ran
cold in the young man's veins. He set his teeth and braced himself to
meet the blow at plans and hopes and life that should follow such a
look.
To his astonishment the blow did not fall. Roach changed the basilisk
gaze with which he had regarded him to a vacant stare.
"I 've naught to say," he whined, "except that I hopes your honor will
see that I has a fair trial--no d--d Tyburn or Newgate hocus-pocussing."
The master beckoned to the overseer. "Take him away," he said. "Take
two or three men and carry him on to the gaol."
He turned on his heel and walked to where Sir Charles Carew leaned
against a tree, idly flicking the mud from his boots with his riding
cane. Landless standing near and listening with strained ears heard the
master say in answer to the other's lifted brows:--
"Nothing to be learnt in that quarter. If there 's rebellion brewing,
he knows nothing of it."
Fresh horses were brought from the stables. "You, Luiz Sebastian,
Taylor, and Mathew," said the overseer, swinging himself into the
saddle. The men designated mounted, and Roach, bound and scowling, was
hoisted to his former seat behind Luiz Sebastian. The cavalcade started.
As the horse that bore the double load passed Landless, the murderer
twisted himself about in his seat, and, with a venomous look, spat at
him. Luiz Sebastian smiled evilly.
The shaven head and fleshless face of Win-Grace Porringer protruded
themselves over Landless's shoulder.
"What does it mean?" he muttered.
"God knows," answered the other. "Come to the trysting place to-night.
We must act, and act quickly."
That night ten men met in the deserted hut on the marsh, having stolen
with the caution of Indians from their respective plantations. Five
were men who had fought at Edgehill and Naseby and Worcester, or had
followed Cromwell through the breach at Drogheda. Four were victims of
the Act of Uniformity; darker, sterner, more determined if possible,
than the veterans of the New Model. The tenth man was Landless. When,
late at night, he and Porringer crept stealthily back to the quarters,
it was with the conviction that this was the last time they should so
steal through the darkness. The date of the rising had been fixed for
the thirteenth of September; this night, by Landless's advice, it was
brought forward to the tenth--and it was now the sixth.
Groping his way past the slumbering forms of the three other occupants
of his cabin, Landless threw himself down upon his pallet with a heavy
sigh.
"Liberty!" he said beneath his breath. "Goddess, whom I and mine have
sought through long years, whom once we thought we held, and waked to
find thee gone,--once I thought thee fairer than aught beside; thought
no price too great to pay for thee. But now!"
He hid his face in his hands with a stifled groan, When at length he
fell into a troubled sleep, it was to see again a storm-tossed boat, and
a woman's face, set like a star against the blackness of the night.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*THE LIBRARY OF THE SURVEYOR-GENERAL*
At a long, low table stood Mistress Betty Carrington, her slender figure
enveloped in an apron of blue dowlas, her sleeves of fine holland rolled
above her elbows, and her white and rounded arms plunged deep into a
great bowl filled with the purple globes of the wild grape. A row of
children knelt on the brick floor at her feet, busily stripping the
fruit from the stems, and negresses, hard by, strained with sinewy hands
the crimson juice from the pulpy mass into jars of earthenware. To this
group suddenly entered a breathless urchin.
"Ohe, mistis! de Gov'nor an' Massa Peyton comin' up de road!"
Betty suspended her operations with a little cry. "The Governor!" she
exclaimed in dismay. "And my father is gone a-processioning;--and my
gown is not seemly;--and he cannot be kept waiting!" She threw off her
apron, dipped her hands into the water the slaves poured for her, and
was at the hall door in time to courtesy to the Governor, as, followed
by a groom, and attended by Mr. Peyton, he rode up to the house.
With the agility of youth his Excellency sprung from his horse, threw
the reins to the groom, and advanced to greet the lady. A richly laced
riding-suit became his still slight and elegant figure to a marvel; his
gilt-spurred, Spanish leather boots were of the newest, most approved
cut; his periwig was fresh curled, and framed with distinction a
handsome, if somewhat withered, countenance. He doffed his Spanish hat
with a bow and flourish: Betty courtesied profoundly.
"Welcome to Rosemead, your Excellency."
"I greet you well, pretty Mistress Betty," said the Governor, and took a
governor's privilege. Mr. Peyton looked as though he would have liked
to follow his Excellency's example, but was fain to content himself with
the lady's hand, resigned to the respectful pressure of his lips with a
charming blush and a dropping of long-fringed eyelids.
"Where is your father, sweetheart?" demanded the Governor.
"Ah! your Excellency, he is unfortunate. The vestry hath appointed this
day for the examination of boundaries in this parish, and as his
Majesty's Surveyor-General he leads the procession. But will not your
Excellency await his return? He will be here anon, and with him Colonel
Verney."
"Then will I wait, pretty one; for I have weighty matters to discuss
both with him and with Dick Verney."
Betty ushered them into the great room, cool, dark, and fragrant of
roses.
"If your Excellency will permit me to withdraw, I will order some
refreshment for you after your long ride."
The Governor sank into an armchair, and smiled graciously.
"Faith! a bit of pasty comes not amiss after a morning canter. And
prithee see to the sack thyself, Mistress Betty. And a dish of pippins
and cheese," continued the Governor, meditatively, "and a rasher of
bacon."
"There was a fine comb taken from the hive this morning. Will your
Excellency choose a bit? And there are dates, sent my father by the
captain of the Barbary vessel, and a quince tart--"
"We will taste of it all," said his Excellency, graciously, "and
afterwards a pipe and a saucer of sweet scented, and your company, my
love. Mr. Peyton, the lady may find the honeycomb too heavy for her
lifting. We will excuse you to her assistance."
"I am your Excellency's most obedient servant," quoth Mr. Peyton with
due submission, and hastened after his blushing mistress.
The Governor, left alone, strolled to the window and looked out upon the
Chesapeake, lying blue and unruffled beneath the dazzling sunshine; to
the mantel-piece, and smelt of the roses in the blue china bowl; to the
spinet, and picked out "Here 's to Royal Charles" with one finger;--and
finally brought up before a corner cupboard, found the key in the door,
turned it, and came upon the Surveyor-General's library.
"H'm, what has he here?" soliloquized his Excellency. "'Purchas; His
Pilgrimes,' of course; 'General History of Virginia, New England and the
Summer Isles,' well and good; 'Good News from Virginia,' humph! that
must have been before my time; 'Public Good without Private Interest,'
humph! What's this? 'Areopagitica,' John Milton! John Hypocrite and
Parricide! A pretty author, and a pretty cause he advocates,--I thank
God there are no schools and no printing presses in this colony, nor are
like to be,--and a courageous Surveyor-General to keep by him such
pestilent stuff in the present year of grace. 'Abuses Stript and
Whipt,' 'Anglia Rediva,' 'Diary of Nehemiah Wallington,' 'Bastwick's
Litany!' Miles Carrington, Miles Carrington! I have my eye on thee!
Thou hadst need to walk warily! 'Zion's Plea against Prelacy,'
damnation! 'Speech of Mr. Hampden,' death and hell! 'Eikonoklastes,'
may the foul fiend fly away with my soul!"
And the Governor closed the cupboard door with a bang, and, with a very
red and frowning face, went back to his seat, and there sank into a
reverie, which lasted until the entrance of Mistress Betty and Mr.
Peyton, followed by two slaves bearing an ample repast.
An hour later came home the Surveyor-General, bringing with him Colonel
Verney, Sir Charles Carew, and Captain Laramore.
The Surveyor-General made stately apologies to his Excellency for his
unavoidable absence: his Excellency, holding himself very erect, heard
him out, and then said coldly, "Major Carrington may rest at ease. I was
sufficiently amused."
"Truly the county knows Mr. Peyton's powers of entertainment," said the
Surveyor-General with a bow and smile for that young gentleman.
"Mr. Peyton had other occupation," said the Governor dryly. "And I fear
that his is too cavalier a wit, and that his sonnets and madrigals savor
too much of loyalty to the Anointed of the Lord and to His Church to
have proved acceptable to the worshipful company with whom I have been
engaged. I have to congratulate his Majesty's Surveyor-General on the
possession of such a library as, I dare swear, is to be found in no
other house in this, his Majesty's _loyal_ dominion of Virginia."
Carrington glanced towards the cupboard, and bit his lip.
"I am pleased," he said stiffly, "that your Excellency hath found
wherewithal to pass an idle hour."
"It is, indeed, a choice collection," said the Governor, with a smooth
tongue, but with an angry light in his eyes. "May I ask by whom it was
chosen; who it was that so carefully culled nightshade and poison oak?"
"_I_ choose my own reading," said Carrington haughtily. "And I see not
why Sir William Berkeley should concern himself--"
"This passes!" exclaimed the Governor, giving rein to his fury and
striking his hand against the table. "It doth concern me much, Major
Carrington, both as a true man, and as the Governor of this Colony, the
representative of his blessed Majesty, King Charles the Second, may all
whose enemies, private and open, be confounded! that a gentleman who
holds a high office in this Colony should have in his possession--ay!
and read, too, for 't is a well-thumbed copy--that foul emanation from a
fouler mind, that malicious, outrageous, damnable, proscribed book,
called 'Eikonoklastes!'"
"If Sir William Berkeley doubts my loyalty--" began Carrington fiercely.
"Major Carrington, you are too popular a man!" broke in the Governor as
fiercely. "When, upon that black day, ten years ago, the usurper's
frigates entered the Chesapeake, and taking us unprepared, compelled
(God forgive me!) my submission, who but Miles Carrington welcomed and
entertained the four commissioners (commissioners from a Roundhead
Parliament to a King's Governor!)? Who but Miles Carrington was hand in
glove with the shopkeeper Bennett and the renegade Matthews? Oh! they
used their power mildly, I deny it not! They were gracious and
long-suffering; they left to the loyal gentlemen, their sometime
friends, life and lands; they contented themselves with banishing a
loyal Governor to his own manor-house, and not, as they might have done,
to the wilderness, to perish amongst the savages. O, they were
exemplary despots! What, when a turn of Fortune's wheel brought them up,
could grateful, loyal gentlemen, could a grateful King's Governor do,
but follow the example set them and be civil to the officers of the late
Commonwealth, and something more than civil to the gentleman who so
gracefully avowed that he had but bowed to the times, and that the
restored sovereign had no more faithful subject than he? When his
Majesty was graciously pleased to continue that gentleman (at the
solicitation of his loyal kindred at home) in the office of
Surveyor-General to this colony, sure, we all rejoiced. It is not with
the past of Major Carrington that I quarrel; it is with the present. In
his case, that which should speak loudest for his recovered loyalty is
wanting. Others there are who have that witness. Let Mr. Digges ride
abroad, and from his cabin-door some prick-eared cur cried out,
'Renegade!' (Pardon me, the word is not mine.) The Oliverian and
schismatic servants spit at him. Is it so with Major Carrington? By
G--d, no! These people uncover to him as though he were the arch rebel
himself. Speak of his Majesty's Surveyor-General before an Oliverian,
and the fellow pricks up his ears like a charger that scents the battle.
Nay, I am told that in their conventicles the schismatics pray for him,
that he may be brought back into the fold, and may become a second
Moses, and lead them out of Egypt! Even the Quakers have a good word
for him. Major Carrington asks me if I question his loyalty. I answer
that I know not, but I do know that the discontented and mutinous of the
land do look upon him with too favorable a regard. And his loyalty is
of that tender age that it may well be susceptible to the influence of
the evil eye." The Governor, who was now in a white heat of passion,
stopped for breath.
"Sir William Berkeley, you shall answer to me for this!" said the
Surveyor-General, with white lips.
"With all the pleasure in life," said the Governor, clapping his hand to
his rapier.
Carrington folded his arms. "Not now," he said, with stern courtesy.
"I believe your Excellency sleeps at Verney Manor? I, too, am invited
thither. There, and it please you, we will adjust our little difference.
For the present, you are my guest."
The Governor choked down his passion, though with difficulty. "Till
to-night then--" he began, when Colonel Verney interposed.
"Neither to-night, nor at any other time," he said sturdily. "Gadzooks!
have not his Majesty's servants enough on hand without employing their
time in pinking one another? Here are the Chickahominies restive, and
those plaguy Ricahecrians amongst us, and the Nansemond Independents
prophesying the end of the world, and the witches' trial coming on, and
the Quakers to be routed out, and on top of it all this story that
Ludlow brings of a redemptioner's assertion that there is afoot an
Oliverian plot. And his Majesty's Governor, and his Majesty's
Surveyor-General with drawn rapiers! For shame, gentlemen! Major
Carrington, my good friend and neighbor, for whose loyalty to our
present gracious sovereign I would answer for as I would for my own,
forget the hasty words which I am sure Sir William Berkeley already
regrets. Come, Sir William, acknowledge that you were over-choleric."
"I 'll be d--d if I do!" cried the Governor.
"We meet to-night," said the Surveyor-General.
The Colonel turned to Sir Charles Carew, who had been a highly amused
spectator of this little scene.
"Charles," he said impressively, "report hath it that you have figured
in more affairs of honor than any man of your age at court. You should
be a nice judge of such gear. Join me in assuring these gentlemen that
they may be reconciled, and their honor receive not the least taint; and
so avert a duel which would be a scandal to the community, and a menace
to the state."
Sir Charles glanced from the pacific Colonel to the sternly collected
Surveyor-General, and thence to the fiery Governor, whose white, jeweled
fingers twitched with impatience.
"Certainly, sir," he said lazily, "you are welcome to my poor opinion,
which is that, considering the nature of the provocation, and the
standing of the parties, there is one way out of the affair with honor."
"Exactly!" said the Colonel eagerly.
Sir Charles locked his hands behind his head. "There 's a very pretty
piece of ground behind your orchard, sir," he said, dreamily regarding
the ceiling. "I noticed it the other day, and sink me! if I did not wish
for Harry Bellasses with whom I have fought three times. 'T is ever a
word and a blow with Harry! The light just at sunset is excellent,
though your twilight cometh over soon. May I venture to suggest to your
Excellency that your _riposte_ is more brilliant than safe? Major
Carrington, your parade is somewhat out of fashion. I could teach you
the newest French mode in five minutes.
"I am obliged for your offer, sir," said the Surveyor-General dryly.
"The other has served my turn, and must do so again."
"Sir Charles Carew will do me the honor to be my second?" asked the
Governor of that gentleman, who answered with a low bow, and a "The
honor is mine."
"Captain Laramore?" said the Surveyor-General.
"At your service, Major," cried the Captain, a dashing, black-a-vised
personage, with large gold rings in his ears, a plume a yard long in his
castor, and a general Draweansir air.
"Will Captain Laramore fight?" inquired Sir Charles. "I have had the
honor of changing the date for sailing for several gentlemen of his
profession."
"Even so accomplished a swordsman as Sir Charles Carew is allowed to be,
hath yet a lesson to learn," said the doughty captain.
"And that is--"
"Pride shall have a fall--to-night."
Sir Charles smiled politely. "The ship that is anchored off yonder
point is yours, is it not? Would you not like to take a last look at
her? Or to leave instructions for your lieutenant and successor? There
is time for you to gallop to the point and back."
"Am I to have the honor of crossing swords with you, Colonel Verney?"
asked Mr. Peyton.
"No, sir!" exclaimed the vexed Colonel. "You are not! I wash my hands
of this foolish fray. William Berkeley, I have never scrupled to tell
thee when I thought thee in the wrong. I think so now. Charles, thou
art an impudent fellow! I have it in my mind to wish that the Captain
may give thee the lesson he talks of."
"Thank you, sir," drawled the gentleman addressed. "Mr. Peyton looks
quite disconsolate. Sink me! if it's not a shame to leave him out in
the cold. If he will wait his turn I will be happy to oblige him when I
have disposed of the Captain."
"You will do no such thing!" retorted his kinsman. "Mr. Peyton, take
your hand off your sword! At least there shall be two sane men at this
meeting. I suppose, gentlemen, you agree with me that this affair
cannot be kept too private? To that end you had best ride with me to
Verney Manor, and there have it out on this plot of ground Charles talks
of. It is at least retired."
"'T is a most sweet spot," said Sir Charles.
"Good!" quoth the Governor. "And now that this little matter is
settled, I am once more, and for the present, sir, simply your obliged
guest and servant," and he bowed to the Surveyor-General.
Carrington returned the bow. "We will drink to our better acquaintance
to-night. Pompey! the sack and the aqua vitae. And, Pompey! a handful
of mint."
The company fell to drinking, and then to tobacco. The Governor, whose
fits of passion were as short as they were violent, arrived by rapid
degrees at a pitch of high good humor. The company listened gravely for
the fiftieth time to stories of the court of the first James; of
Buckingham's amours, of the beauty of Henrietta Maria, of a visit to
Paris, an interview with Richelieu, a duel with a captain of
Mousquetaires, a kiss imprinted upon the fair hand of Anne of Austria.
The charmed stream of the old courtier's reminiscences flowed on--he
stopped for breath, and Sir Charles took the word and proceeded to
unfold before their dazzled eyes a gorgeous phantasmagoria. The King,
the Duke, Sedley and Buckingham, Mesdames Castlemaine, Stuart and
Gwynne, Dryden and Waller and Lely, the King's house, the Queen's
chapel, the Queen's duennas, the Tityre Tus, Paul's Walk, the Russian
Ambassador, astrologers, orange girls, balls, masques, pageants, duels,
the court of Louis le Grand, the King's hunting parties, Madame
d'Orleans, Olympe di Mancini.
The Governor listened with dilating nostrils and sparkling eyes; Colonel
Verney's vexed countenance smoothed itself; Captain Laramore, sitting
with outstretched legs, and head hidden in clouds of tobacco smoke,
rumbled from out that obscurity laughter and strange oaths. Even Mr.
Peyton, after vainly trying to fix his attention upon the construction
of a sonnet to his mistress's eyebrow, succumbed to the enchantment, and
sat with parted lips, drinking in wonders; but the Surveyor-General,
though he listened courteously, listened with forced smiles and with an
attention which was hard to preserve from wandering.
In the midst of a brilliant account of the nuptials of the Chevalier de
Grammont came an interruption.
"De horses am fed an' brought roun', massa."
The Governor started up. "Rat me, if good sack and good stories make
not a man forget all else beside! Colonel Verney, I wish you, as
lieutenant of this shire, to ride with me to this Chickahominy village
where I have promised an audience to the half king of the tribe. Plague
on the unreasonable vermin! Why can they not give way peaceably? If
the colony needs and takes their lands, it leaves them a plenty
elsewhere. Let them fall back towards the South Sea. Sir Charles, I
grieve for the necessity, but we must leave the court and come back to
the wilderness. Gentlemen, will you ride with Verney and me, or shall
we part now to meet at sunset in his orchard?"
"We had best ride with your Excellency," said Carrington gravely. "I
like not the temper of the Chickahominies, who ever mean most when they
say least. And these roving Ricahecrians, their guests, are of a
strange and fierce aspect. It is as well to go in force."
"Those vagrants from the Blue Mountains have been here overlong," said
the Governor. "I shall send them packing! Well, gentlemen, since we
are to have the pleasure of your company, boot and saddle is the word!"
*CHAPTER XX*
*WHEREIN THE PEACE PIPE IS SMOKED*
The sun had some time passed the meridian when the party saw through the
widening glades of the forest the gleam of a great river, and upon its
bank an Indian village of perhaps fifty wigwams, set in fields of maize
and tobacco, groves of mulberries, and tangles of wild grape. The
titanic laughter of Laramore and the drinking catch which Sir Charles
trolled forth at the top of a high, sweet voice had announced their
approach long before they pushed their horses into the open; and the
population of the village was come forth to meet them with song and
dance and in gala attire. The soft and musical voices of the young
women raised a kind of recitative wherein was lauded to the skies the
virtue, wisdom and power of the white father who had come from the banks
of the Powhatan to those of the Pamunkey to visit his faithful
Chickahominies, bringing (beyond doubt) justice in his hand. The deeper
tones of the men chimed in, and the mob of naked children, bringing up
the rear of the procession, added their shrill voices to the clamor,
which, upon the booming in of a drum and the furious shaking of the
conjurer's rattle, became deafening.
The chant came to an end, but the orchestra persevered. Ten girls left
the throng, formed themselves into line, and advancing one after the
other with a slow and measured motion, laid at the feet of the Governor
(who had dismounted) platters of parched maize, beans and chinquapins,
with thin maize cakes. They were succeeded by two stalwart youths
bearing, slung upon a pole between them, a large buck which they
deposited upon the ground before the white men. There came a tremendous
crash from the drum, and a discordant scream from a long pipe made of a
reed. The crowd opened, and from out their midst stalked a venerable
Indian.
"My fathers are welcome," he said gravely.
"Where is the half king?" demanded the Governor sharply. "I have no
time for these fooleries. Make them stop that infernal racket, and lead
us to your chiefs at once."
The Indian frowned at this cavalier reception of the village civilities,
but he waved his arm for the music to cease, and proceeded to conduct
the visitors through a lane made by two rows of dusky bodies and staring
faces, to a large wigwam in the centre of the village. Before this hut
stood a mulberry tree of enormous size, and seated upon billets of wood
in the shade of its spreading branches were the half king of the tribe
and the principal men of the village.
Their faces and the upper portions of their bodies were painted red--the
color of peace. They wore mantles of otter skins, and from their ears
depended strings of pearl and bits of copper. To the earring of the
half king were attached two small, green snakes that twisted and writhed
about his neck; his body had been oiled and then plastered with small
feathers of a brilliant blue, and upon his head was fastened a stuffed
hawk with extended wings.
To one side of this group stood a band of Indians, two score or more in
number, who differed in appearance and attire from the Chickahominies.
The iron had entered the soul of the latter; they had the bearing of a
subject race. Not so with the former. They were men of great size and
strength, with keen, fierce faces; their clothing was of the scantiest
possible description; ornaments they had, but of a peculiar
kind--necklaces and armlets of human bones, belts in which long tufts of
silk grass were interwoven with a more sinister fibre. They leaned on
great bows, and each sternly motionless figure looked a bronze Murder.
The chief of the Chickahominies raised his eyes from the ground as the
Governor and his party entered the circle. "My white fathers are
welcome," he said. "Let them be seated," and looked at the ground
again. The "white fathers" took possession of half a dozen billets, and
waited in silence the next move of the game. After a while, the half
king lifted from the log beside him a pipe with a stem a yard long and a
bowl in which an orange might have rested. An Indian, rising, went to
where a fire burned beneath a tripod, and returning with a live coal
between his fingers, calmly and leisurely lighted the pipe. The half
king, still in dead silence, lifted it to his lips, smoked for five
minutes, and handed it to the Indian, who bore it to the Governor. The
Governor drew two or three tremendous whiffs and passed it on to Colonel
Verney, who in his turn transferred it to the Surveyor-General. When
the monster pipe had been smoked by each of the white men, it went the
round of the savages. An Indian summer haze began to settle around the
company. Through it the patient gazing throng on the outskirts of the
circle became shadowy, impalpable; the face of the half king, now hidden
in shifting smoke wreaths, now darkly visible, like that of an eastern
idol before whom incense is burned. There was no sound save the wash of
the waters below them, the sighing of the wind, the drone of the cicadas
in the trees. The Indians sat like statues, but the white men were more
restive. The elders managed to restrain their impatience, but Laramore
began to whistle, and when checked by a look from the Governor, turned
to Sir Charles with a comically disconsolate face and a shrug of the
shoulders. Whereupon the latter drew from his pocket, dice and a
handful of gold pieces. Laramore's face brightened, and the two,
screened from observation by the Colonel's shoulders, which were of the
broadest, fell to playing noiselessly, cursing beneath their breath.
Mr. Peyton leaned his elbow on his knee, and his chin upon his hand, and
allowed the dreamy beauty of the afternoon to overflow a poetic soul.
At length, and when the patience of the whites was well-nigh exhausted,
the pipe came back to where the half king sat with lowered eyes and
impassive face. He laid it down beside him and rose to his feet,
gathering his mantle around him.
"My white fathers are welcome," he said in a sonorous voice. "Very
welcome to the Chickahominies is the face of the white father, who rules
in the place of the great white father across the sea. Their corn feast
is not yet, and yet my people rejoice. Our hearts were glad when my
father sent word that he would this day visit his faithful
Chickahominies. Our ears are open: let my father speak."
"I thank Harquip and his people for their welcome," said the Governor
coldly. "I have ever found them full of words. They profess loyalty to
the great white father beyond the seas, but they forget his good laws
and disobey his officers. I am weary of their words."
"Tell me," said Harquip, with a sombre face, "are they good laws which
drive us from our hunting grounds? Are they good laws which take from
us our maize fields? Does the great white father love to hear our women
cry for food? or is his heart Indian and longs for the sound of the war
whoop?"
"That is a threat," the Governor said sternly.
The Indian waved his hands. "Have we not smoked the peace pipe?" he
said coldly.
"Humph!" said the Governor then, "I am not come to listen to idle
complaints. Your grievances as to the land shall be laid before the
next Assembly, and it will pass judgment upon them--justly and
righteously, of course."
"Ugh!" said the Indian.
"I am here," continued the Governor, "to ask certain questions of the
Chickahominies, and to lay certain commands upon them which they will do
well to obey."
"Let my father speak," said the Indian calmly.
"Why did you shelter in your village the man with the red hair? Word
was sent to all the tribes, to the Nansemonds, the Wyanokes, the
Cheskiacks, the Paspaheghs, the Pamunkeys, the Chickahominies, that he
should be delivered up if they found him among them. Why did the
Chickahominies hide him?"
"In the night time, the red fox came to the village of the
Chickahominies and burrowed there. The eyes of my people were closed:
they saw him not."
"Humph! Why did you not carry your guns to the Court House when the
tribes were ordered to do so, a fortnight ago, and leave them there,
taking in exchange roanoke and fire-water?"
"My fathers asked much," said the half king gloomily. "My young men
love their sticks-that-speak. They love to see the deer go down before
them like maize before the hail storm. My fathers asked much."
"How many guns has your village?"
"Five," was the prompt reply.
"Humph! To-morrow you will deliver ten guns to the captain of the
trainband at the court-house. When do these men," pointing to the
stranger band, "return to their tribe?"
"They are our friends. They wait to dance the corn dance with us. Then
will they return to the Blue Mountains, and will tell the Ricahecrians
of the great things they have seen, and of the wisdom and power of my
white fathers."
"When is your corn feast?"
"Seven suns hence."
"They must be gone to-morrow."
The face of the half king darkened, and there was a slight, instantly
repressed movement among the circle of braves.
"My father asks very much," said the half king with emphasis.
"Not more than I can, and will, enforce," said the Governor sternly, and
getting to his feet as he spoke. "You, Harquip, shall be answerable to
me and to the Council for these men's departure to-morrow. If by
sunrise of the next morning their canoes are far up the river, headed
for the Blue Mountains, if by the same hour the guns which you have
retained in defiance of the express decree of the Assembly, be given up
to those at the Court House, then will I overlook your hiding the man
with the red hair, and the Assembly will listen to your complaints as to
your hunting grounds. Disobey, and my warriors shall come, each with a
stick-that-speaks in his hand. I have spoken," and the Governor
beckoned to the servants who held the horses.
The half king rose also. "My white father shall be obeyed," he said
with gloomy dignity. "He is stronger than we. Otee has been angry with
the real men for many years. He is gone over to the palefaces and helps
their god against the real men. My young men shall take their guns back
to the palefaces to-morrow, and shall bring back fire-water, and we will
drink, and forget that the days of Powhatan are past and that Otee
fights against us. Also when the Pamunkey is red with to-morrow's
sunset, my brothers from the Blue Mountains shall turn their faces
homewards. My father is content?"
"I am content," said the Governor.
"There is a thing which my brothers have to say to my white fathers,"
continued the half king. "Will they hear the great chief, Black Wolf?"
The Governor pulled out a great watch, glanced at it, and sighed
resignedly. "Gentlemen, have patience a moment longer. Harquip, I will
listen to the Ricahecrian until the shadow of that tree reaches the
fire. What says he?"
The half king spoke to the strangers in their own tongue--their ranks
broke, and an Indian stalked forward to the centre of the circle. His
tall, powerful, nearly nude figure was thickly tatooed with
representations of birds and beasts; he wore an armlet of a dull, yellow
metal ("Gold! by the Eternal!" ejaculated the Governor to Colonel
Verney); over his naked, deeply scarred breast hung three strings of
hideous mementoes of torture stakes; the belt that held tomahawk and
scalping knife was fringed with human hair; beside his streaming
scalplock was stuck the dried hand of an enemy. The face beneath was
cunning, relentless, formidable. He spoke in his own language, and the
half king translated.
"Black Wolf is a great chief. In his village in the Blue Mountains are
fifty wigwams--the largest is his. There are a hundred braves--he leads
the war parties. The Monacans run like deer, the hearts of the
Tuscaroras become soft, they hide behind their squaws! Black Wolf is a
great chief. Seven moons of cohonks have passed since the Ricahecrians
sharpened their hatchets and came down from the mountains to where the
waters of Powhatan fall over many rocks. There they met the palefaces.
The One above all was angry with his Ricahecrians. They saw for the
first time the guns of the palefaces. They thought they were gods who
spat fire at them and slew them with thunder. Their hearts became soft,
and they fled before the strange gods. Some the palefaces slew, and
some they took prisoner. Black Wolf saw his brother, the great chief
Grey Wolf, fall. The Ricahecrians went back to the Blue Mountains, and
their women raised the death chant for those whom they left stretched
out on the bank of the great river.... Seven times had the maize
ripened, when Black Wolf led a war party against a tribe that dwelt on
the banks of the Pamunkey where a fallen pine might span it. The waters
ran red with blood. When there were no more Monacans to kill, when the
fires had burnt low, Black Wolf looked down the waters of the Pamunkey.
He had heard that it ran into a great water that was salt, whose further
bank a man could not see. He had heard that the palefaces rode in
canoes that had wings, great and white. He thought he would like to
know if these things were true, or if they were but tales of the singing
birds. To find out, Black Wolf and his young men dipped their oars into
the water of the Pamunkey, and rowed towards the moonrise. In the
morning they met twenty men of the Pamunkeys in three canoes. The
Pamunkeys lie deep in the slime of the river; the eels eat them; their
scalps shall hang before the wigwams of Black Wolf and his young men.
In the afternoon, they drove their canoes into the reeds and went into
the forest to find meat. Black Wolf's arrow brought down a buck and
they feasted. Afterwards they caught a hunter who saw only the deer he
was chasing. They tied him to a tree and made merry with him. When he
was dead, they drew their boats from out the reeds, and rowed on down
the broadening river. The next day, at the time of the full sun-power,
they came to this village. Many years before the palefaces came, the
Chickahominies were a great nation, reaching to the foot of the Blue
Mountains, and then were they and the Ricahecrians friends and allies.
When Black Wolf showed them the totem of his tribe upon his breast, they
welcomed him and his young men. That was ten suns ago. Black Wolf and
his young men have seen many things. When they go back to the Blue
Mountains, the Ricahecrians will think they listen to singing birds.
They will tell of the great salt water, of the boats with wings, of the
palefaces, of their fields of maize and tobacco, of the black men who
serve them, of their temples, werowanees and women. They will tell of
the great white father who rules, of his power, his wisdom, his open
hand--"
"I thought it would come at last," quoth the Governor. "What does he
want, Harquip?"
"The Ricahecrian starts for his wigwam in the Blue Mountains to-morrow
as my father commands. He says: 'Shall I not return to my people with a
gift from the great white father in my hand?'"
The Governor laughed. "Let one of your young men go to the court-house.
I will give him an order for beads, for a piece of red cloth, and yes,
rat me! he shall have a mirror! I hope he is satisfied!"
The half king's eyes gleamed covetously. "My father gives large gifts.
He has indeed an open hand. But the Ricahecrian desires another thing.
He says: 'Seven years ago, at the falls of the Powhatan, Black Wolf saw
his brother fall before the stick-that-speaks of the palefaces. Grey
Wolf was a great chief. The village in the Blue Mountains mourned very
much. Nicotee, his squaw, went wailing into the land of shadows. His
son hath seen but seven moons of corn, but he dreams of the day when he
shall sharpen the hatchet against the slayers of his father.... The
Chickahominies have told Black Wolf that his brother was wounded and not
slain by the palefaces. They brought him captive to their great board
wigwams. There they tied him not to the torture stake; they knew that a
Ricahecrian laughs at the pine splinters. They tortured his spirit.
They made him a woman. The great chief of the Ricahecrians no longer
throws the tomahawk--the guns of the palefaces are about him. He dances
the corn dance no more--his back is bowed with burdens. His arrow brings
not down the fleeing deer, he tracks not the bear to his den--he toils
like a squaw in the fields of the palefaces. Black Wolf says to the
white father: 'Give back the Sagamore to the Ricahecrians, to his son,
to the village by the falling stream in the Blue Mountains. Then will
the Ricahecrians be friends with the palefaces forever. To-morrow Black
Wolf and his young men row towards the sunset; let the captive chief be
in their midst. This is the gift which Black Wolf asks of his white
fathers. He has spoken.'"
In the midst of a dead silence the half king took his seat and studied
the ground. The Chickahominies, squatted round the circle, stirred not
a finger, and the outer row of spectators, motionless against a
background of interlacing branches patched with vivid blue, seemed a
procession in tapestry. The Ricahecrians and their formidable chief
maintained a stony gloom. Whatever interest they felt in the fate of
their captive chief was carefully concealed. The sun, now hanging,
broad and red, low in the heavens might have been the Gorgon's head and
the whole village staring at it.
The Governor began to laugh. Sir Charles chimed in musically and
Laramore followed suit. The Surveyor-General frowned, but the Colonel,
after one or two attempts at sobriety of demeanor, succumbed, and the
trio became a quartette. The glades of the forest rang to the jovial
sound--it was as though there were enchantment in the golden afternoon,
or in the ring of dark and frowning countenances before them, for they
laughed as though they would never stop. Even the servants at the
horses' heads were infected, and laughed at they knew not what.
The Surveyor-General lost patience. "I think the Jamestown weed groweth
in these woods," he said dryly.
The Governor pulled himself together. "Faith! I believe you are
right!" he said airily. "But rat me! if the impudence of the varlets be
not the most amusing thing since the Quaker's plea for toleration!"
"The amusement seems to be on our side," said the Surveyor-General.
The Governor cast a careless glance in the direction indicated by the
other. "Pshaw! a fit of the sulks! They will get over it. Is this
precious captive the giant whom I have seen at Rosemead, Major
Carrington?"
"Not so, your Excellency. My man is a Susquehannock."
"I believe I may lay claim to the fellow, Sir William," said the
Colonel, wiping his eyes.
"Is he the Indian who was whipt the other day?" asked Sir Charles,
taking snuff.
"For stealing fire-water--yes."
The Governor began to laugh again. "Of course you will release the
rascal, Colonel? The Blue Mountains threaten war if you do not. Fling
yourself into the breach, and so prevent a 'scandal to the community and
a menace to the State,' to quote your words of this morning.
Consistency is a jewel, Dick the Peacemaker. Wherefore let the savage
go."
"I 'll be d--d if I do!" cried the Colonel.
The Governor, shaking with laughter, got to his feet. At a signal his
groom brought up his horse and held the stirrup for him to mount. His
Excellency swung himself into the saddle and gathered the reins into his
gauntleted hands; the remainder of the company, too, got to horse. The
Governor's steed, a fiery, coal black Arabian, danced with impatience.
"Selim scents a fray!" cried his Excellency. "Come on, gentlemen!
'Twill be sunset before we reach that sweet piece of earth behind
Verney's orchard."
The half king rose from his scat, took three measured strides, and stood
side by side with the Ricahecrian chief.
"My white father will give to the Ricahecrian the gift he asks?"
A gust of passion took the Governor. "No!" he thundered, turning in his
saddle. "The Ricahecrian may go to the devil and the Blue Mountains
alone!" He struck spurs into his horse's sides. "Gentlemen, we waste
time!"
The Arabian dashed down one of the winding glades of the forest; the
remainder of the party spurred their horses into the mad gallop known as
the "planter's pace," and in an instant the whole cavalcade had whirled
out of sight. A burst of laughter, made elfin by distance, came back to
the village on the banks of the Pamunkey, then all was quiet again. The
gold-laced, audacious company had vanished like a troop of powerful
enchanters, leaving behind them a sullen throng of native genii, kept
down by a Solomon's Seal which is _not_ always unbreakable.
Something stirred in the midst of the great mulberry tree, a tree so
vast and leafy that it, might have hidden many things. A man swung
himself down with a lithe grace from limb to limb, and finally dropped
into the circle of Indians who stood or sat in a sombre stillness which
might mean much or little. Only on the outskirts the crowd of women,
children and youths, had commenced a low, monotonous, undefined noise
which had in it something sinister, ominous. It was like the sound,
dull and heavy, of the ground swell that precedes the storm. The man
who dropped from the tree was Luiz Sebastian, and his appearance seemed
in no degree to surprise the Indians. There followed a short and
sententious conversation between the mulatto, the half king and the
Ricahecrian chief. Beside the half king lay the still smoking peace
pipe. When the colloquy was ended, he raised it. At a signal an Indian
brought water in a gourd, and into it the half king plunged the glowing
bowl. The fire went out in a cloud of hissing steam. The sound of the
ground swell became louder and more threatening.
*CHAPTER XXI*
*THE DUEL*
The trees of the orchard stood out black against a crimson sky. "Faith!
it is a color we shall see more of presently," said Laramore, divesting
himself of his doublet.
His antagonist, passing a laced handkerchief along a gleaming blade,
smiled politely. "A pretty tint. Wine, the lips of women, Captain
Laramore's blood--Lard! 't is a color I adore!"
"Gentlemen!" cried Colonel Verney. "Once more I beg of you to forego
this foolish quarrel. William Berkeley, for the first time in your
life, be reasonable!"
The Governor turned sharply, his chest, beneath his shirt of finest
holland, swelling, each closely cropped hair upon his head, bared for
action, stiff with injured dignity.
"Colonel Richard Verney forgets himself," he began angrily; then,
"Confound you, Dick! keep your hands out of this. I don't want to fight
you too! I say not that this gentleman is disloyal, but I do say, and I
will maintain it with the last drop of my blood, that he strives to draw
to himself a party in the State, with what intent he best knows. If he
choose to pocket that assertion and withdraw, I am content."
"On guard, sir," said Carrington, raising his sword.
The Colonel shrugged his shoulders, and returned to his post beside Mr.
Peyton.
"Very well, gentlemen, since you will not be ruled. Are you ready?"
The rapiers clashed together, and the game began.
The Governor fenced brilliantly, if a trifle wildly; his antagonist with
a cool steadiness of manner and an iron wrist. Laramore fought with
bull-like ferocity, striving to beat down his opponent's guard, making
mad lunges, stamping, and keeping up a continuous rumble of oaths. Sir
Charles, always smiling, and with an air as if his thoughts were
anywhere but at that particular spot, put aside his thrusts with the
ease with which the toreador avoids the bull.
Mr. Peyton was moved to reluctant admiration. "When I was in London,
sir," he said in an excited whisper to the Colonel, "I did see Mathews
fight with Westwicke, and thought I had seen fencing indeed, but your
cousin--ah!"
Laramore's sword described a curve in the air, and lodged in the boughs
of an apple-tree, while its owner staggered forward and fell heavily to
the ground. At the same instant Carrington wounded the Governor in the
wrist. Colonel Verney struck up the weapons. "By the Lord, gentlemen!
you shall go no further! Jack Laramore's down, run through the shoulder!
Major Carrington, you have drawn blood--it is enough."
"If Sir William Berkeley is content," began Carrington, bowing to his
antagonist.
"Rat me! I 've no choice," said the Governor ruefully. "You've
disabled my sword arm, and the gout has the other."
"I shall be happy to wait until the wound shall have healed," said the
Surveyor-General, with another bow.
"No, no," said his Excellency, with a laugh. "We 'll cry quits. And
rat me! if now that we have had it out, I do not love thee better, Miles
Carrington, than ever I did before. In the morning when thou goest
home, burn thy library, burn Milton and Bastwick, and Withers, and the
rest of the rogues, forswear such rascally company forever, and rat me!
if I will not maintain that thou art the honestest, as well as the
longest-headed, man in the colony. There 's my hand on it, and to-night
we 'll have a rouse such as would make old Noll turn in his grave if he
had one."
Carrington took the proffered hand courteously, if coldly. "I thank
your Excellency for your advice. Your Excellency should have your wound
attended to at once. You are losing a deal of blood."
"Tut, a trifle!" said the Governor, airily, winding a handkerchief about
the bleeding member.
"Is there ever a chirugeon upon the place?" asked Sir Charles in his
most dulcet tones. "If not, I fear that Captain Laramore will very
shortly make his last voyage."
"Egad! that will never do!" cried the Colonel, dropping upon his knees
beside the wounded man. "A bad thrust! Charles, thou art the very
devil!"
"Shall I ride for the doctor?" cried Mr. Peyton.
"No. Anthony Nash is at the house. Run, lad, and fetch him. He is
surgeon as well as divine."
Mr. Peyton disappeared; and presently there stood in the midst of the
group gathered about the unconscious captain, a man clad in a clerical
dress and of a very dignified and scholarly demeanor.
"Ha, gentlemen!" he said gravely, looking with bright, dark eyes from
one to the other. "This is a sorry business. Shirts, drawn rapiers,
trampled turf, Sir William bleeding, Captain Laramore senseless upon the
ground! His Excellency the Governor; Major Carrington, the
Surveyor-General; Colonel Verney, the lieutenant of the
shire;--scandalous, gentlemen!"
"And Anthony Nash who would give his chance of a mitre to have been one
of us," cried the Governor. "Ha! Anthony! dost remember the fight
behind Paul's, three to one,--and the baggage that brought it about?"
The divine, on his knees beside Laramore, looked up with a twinkle in
his eye from his work of tying laced handkerchiefs into bandages. "That
was in the dark ages, your Excellency. My memory goeth not back so far.
Ha! that is better! He is coming to himself. It is not so bad after
all."
Laramore groaned, opened his eyes, and struggled into a sitting posture.
"Blast me! but I am properly spitted. Sir Charles Carew, my compliments
to you. You are a man after my own heart. Ha, your Excellency! I find
myself in good company. Dr. Anthony Nash, I shall have you out! You
have torn the handkerchief Mistress Lettice Verney gave me."
The Doctor laughed. "You must be got to the house at once, and to bed,
where Mistress Lettice, who is as skillful in healing as in making
wounds, shall help me to properly dress this one."
Laramore staggered to his feet. "Give me an arm, Doctor; and Peyton,
clap my periwig upon my head, will you? and fetch me my sword from where
I see it, adorning yonder bough. Sir Charles Carew, I am your humble
servant. Damme! it's no disgrace to be worsted by the best sword at
Whitehall." And the gallant captain, supported by the clergyman and Mr.
Peyton, reeled off the ground; the remainder of the party waiting only
to assume doublets and wigs before following him to the house.
Two hours later Sir Charles Carew rose from the supper-table, and
leaving the gentlemen at wine, passed into the great room, and came
softly up to Patricia, sitting at the spinet.
"My heart was not there," he said, answering her smile and lifted brows.
"I am come in search of it."
She laughed, fingering the keys. "Did you leave it on the field of
honor? Fie, sir, for shame! Doctor Nash says that Captain Laramore will
not use his arm for a fortnight."
"What--" said Sir Charles, dropping his voice and leaning over
her--"what if I had been the wounded one?"
"I would have made your gruel with great pleasure, cousin."
She laughed again, and looked at him half tenderly, half mockingly.
There were silver candlesticks upon the spinet and the light from the
tall wax tapers fell with a white radiance over the slender figure in
brocade and lace, the gleaming shoulders, the beautiful face, and the
shining hair. Her eyes were brilliant, her mouth all elusive, mocking,
exquisite curves.
He raised a wandering lock of gold to his lips. "The King hath written,
commanding me home to England," he said abruptly.
"Yes, my father told me. He says the King loves you much."
Sir Charles left her side, twice walked the length of the room, and came
back to her. "Am I to go as I came--alone?" he asked, standing before
her with folded arms.
"If you so desire, sir?"
"Will you go with me?"
"Yes."
He caught her in his arms; but she cried out and freed herself.
"No, no, not yet!" she said breathlessly. "Listen to me."
She moved backwards a step or two, and stood facing him, her hand at her
bosom, a color in her cheek, her eyes like stars. "I do not know that I
love you, Sir Charles Carew. At times I have thought that I did; at
times, not. There is an unrest here," touching her heart, "which has
come to me lately. I do not know--it may be the beginning of love.
Last night my father had much talk with me. It is his dearest wish that
you and I should wed. He has been my very good father always. If you
will take me as I am, not loving you yet, but with a heart free to
learn, why--" Her voice broke.
Sir Charles flung himself at her feet, and, taking possession of her
hands, covered them with kisses. A voice passed the window, singing
through the night:--
"Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blow,
And shake the green leaves from the tree;
O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I am weary."
"Margery again?" said Sir Charles, rising.
"Yes," said Patricia, with a troubled voice.