The voyage which it was proposed for John Bonyton to take to England
was deferred from time to time, and the young people resumed their
careless, desultory life, now in the forest and now upon the
sea--Acashee even more devoted than before in her attentions upon Hope.
It might be noticed, however, that the people of the colony were more
watchful, and even more critical, in their observance of the latter
than usual.
Often as she passed in her short velvet tunic with her white hair
floating in the wind, glances were exchanged, intermingled with now and
then an ominous and malignant frown.
While the Indians watched her slightest movement with interest akin
to awe, the less sympathetic colonists looked upon her with distrust
amounting to aversion, and many had conceived the idea that she
belonged to that dangerous class “accursed of God,” and to be destroyed
by men, as in those olden times, when the King of Israel consulted
one akin to Hope in the person of the Witch of Endor. But, as yet,
these were surmises only whispered in secret, and concealed from the
knowledge of the Governor and his friends.
The Indians of the Saco tribe, while they were more powerful than all
others of the eastern tribes, were less aggressive, also. Conscious
of their power, they cared little to molest those whom they could
easily crush, and hence they devoted themselves warmly to the white
colonists, perceiving in them at once much to excite their admiration
and stimulate their own endeavor.
Hope was from the first installed a favorite, and they watched her
slightest look or word with interest, and then, as years developed more
and more her individual characteristics, she was invested by them with
a profound awe. They had penetrated some of these marked features, even
before they were divined by her own family, and they would come long
miles to bring her some dainty gift, exquisite tiny baskets, broidered
moccasins, or shells from the sea-shore, and seating themselves upon
the mat under the broad piazza, watch her every movement, and listen to
the silvery tongue of the child with hair like the snow-flake.
Had Hope been ambitious or deceitful, she might have turned her
mysterious power over the savage mind to some account; but,
simple-hearted and truthful, she enjoyed her little triumphs without
any thought of what might lie beyond. The chief of the Saco tribe,
seeing her contempt for all household avocations, looked upon her with
wonder and delight as the incarnation of some of their own deities, who
would eventually bring great glory to the tribe.
Mistress Vines, while no one could bring the slightest charge against
her, was by no means popular with the “_elect ladies_” of the colony.
Mindful of her household, over which she presided with affectionate
dignity, and truly loving and honoring her husband, she was little
inclined to countenance any course which should create any interest
outside of the sacred relation of the family.
Thoughtful as she was tender, judicious as she was affectionate, she
was doubly happy in a husband worthy of all reverence and duty, to whom
she could refer all abstruse and vexing questions of opinion, and whose
decisions were to her wifely mind the wisest and best.
Mistress Bonyton, the mother of John, was in the habit of collecting
the principal women of the colony at her house on the Saturday of every
week, for the purposes of prayer and religious discussion.
Mistress Vines had received many invitations to join this supplicating
conclave, but from the above reasons, together with a natural vivacity
of character, which rendered gloom and pretension distasteful to her,
she had neglected to ally herself with these ascetic women in what she
regarded as an evidence of cant, and, it may be, of hypocrisy also, to
her clear, cheerful intellect.
Captain Bonyton, however, secretly gave Sir Richard a hint, in a
neighborly way, that the women felt themselves aggrieved at this
omission, and the more, hinted at dark, mysterious opinions in regard
to little Hope, which it might be well to counteract by a more familiar
intercourse of Mistress Vines with her neighbors.
Sir Richard having suggested this to his fair dame, she might have been
seen the next afternoon, fresh as a rose, and bright as the morning,
picking her way to the mansion of Mistress Bonyton.
She carried herself bravely in her high heels, and the stiffest of
stiff ruffs barricading her fair neck, and her rich brown hair drawn
back from her handsome forehead, and frizzed in a way wondrous to
behold. A little less of style, a little less of fineness, my lady,
would have better suited the austere dames who await thy coming!
They were seated in the “_fore-room_” of the house, the shutters of
which were partially closed, giving a dim, ghostly aspect to the
interior, in which were seated about twenty women, plainly dressed,
each with her hair parted at the top of the head and drawn to the back
as smooth and tight as hair could well be drawn. The elderly matrons
were seated at one side, and the younger grouped together near the
door. Fair, pale young faces were not wanting; prematurely grave, but
pure and tender.
“It is nearly upon the stroke of three, and yet she does not come.
Reach me the Bible; the Lord’s work must not wait because of his tardy
servants.”
This from Mistress Bonyton, who drew down her face ominously, and
closed with a groan.
“What think you of that child, Hope? I would have thy opinion, dame,
for I have great misgivings.”
Mistress Bonyton put her finger in the Bible, where she had found the
chapter she designed to read, and she now closed the book over it, and
standing the large volume on end, bent forward, resting her chin upon
it, she looked out of the corner of her eye at Mistress Higgins, who
had asked the question.
“I think thy thought, dame.”
The younger women started; but Mistress Higgins continued:
“I saw her even now, as I came in, worrying a snake, and truly it was a
rare sight to see the docility of the beast.”
“Whist! my lady is at the door!” exclaimed one of the younger women.
Mistress Vines entered, with her pretty, courtly manner, curtesying
right and left, after the fashion of the times, and then instinctively
seated herself beside the young matrons, who blushed and smiled at her
pleasant greeting, while the elders gravely bent their heads and pursed
up their mouths in a pious way. A silence of some minutes intervened,
for the Lady Joanna was no unimportant personage to be present, and
was well known for a smart dame, with ready wit, and sharp repartee,
and though in her absence it might be politic to treat her with
indifference or contempt, she being present altered the case; and even
Mistress Bonyton, habituated to command, and accustomed to lead off her
satellites in a free and easy manner, found herself inconveniently awed
in her presence.
At length Mistress Bonyton, in a solemn voice, and with intermitting
groans, grasping the Bible and closing her eyes, said:
“We have appropriated this afternoon for the especial purpose of
praying for the conversion of that pleasant (groan) but ungodly (groan)
man, Sir Richard Vines.”
Mistress Vines started; her wifely face reddened with surprise, not
unmingled with anger, and she replied promptly, with her bright eyes
surveying the group:
“I thank ye, good dames, in that ye will pray for my noble lord; but,
in what way has he earned the right to be called ungodly?”
“Our occasion is for the holding forth of prayer, not to discuss carnal
questions,” responded Mistress Bonyton.
“But indeed, good dame, let me know his offenses, that I may the better
join in your prayers.”
“It is not meet that we talk,” interposed Dame Higgins; “thou art
holding a chosen vessel, gifted in prayer, from the altar.”
And at once the group arose, and each grasping the back of a chair,
which they tilted upon two legs, Mistress Bonyton opened with a violent
denunciation of the “sins of pride and haughtiness; of the hankering
after the leeks and garlics of Egypt, in the shape of Episcopacy; and
the high head which portended a fall; and the crimpings and mincings,
and titles and shows of aristocracy, a shame to the church here planted
in the wilderness.”
Mistress Vines quietly moved upon tip-toe to the door and went out,
much flushed in the face, and most certainly carrying her pretty head
quite as high as the prayer had indicated. She did not even wait for
the “amen,” but put the door between her and them, leaving Mistress
Bonyton to her invective, which they called prayer.
As she tripped along, she met Sir Richard, who smiled when he saw her
flashing eye, but he put her arm within his, smiled, and patted the
hand that lay upon his arm, for he divined the cause.
“Ay, sweetheart, they do not look upon thy husband with thine eyes,”
and stooping his head to hers he whispered, with a boyish laugh,
“heaven forefend that they should.”
Whereat she laughed, and they passed onward to their happy home.