As we came to the high stockade which surrounded the Roanoke Racing
Plain, a bell struck somewhere inside; there was a moment's silence,
then a roar, "They're off!" and the confused shouting of a crowd:
"Greensleeves leads! Heather-Bee! Heather-Bee!" which suddenly died
out, ceased, then swelled into a sharp yell: "Orange and Black! Orange
wins! Baltimore! Baltimore! Baltimore! No! No! The Jersey colt! The
Jersey colt! Crimson! Crimson!" A hush; the dull, double thud of
galloping; a scramble, a rush, and a hurricane of wild cheers:
"Heather-Bee! Heather-Bee! Good Greensleeves! Hi--yi--yi! Hooray!"
"I would I had a sovereign laid on this same Heather-Bee," said Mount,
mechanically fumbling in his empty pockets.
I glanced at him in surprise. Had the novelty of our present peril
already grown so stale that the shouting of a rabble over a winning
horse could blot it out?
He observed my disapproval and took his hands from his pocket-flaps,
muttering something about a passion for betting; and I paid the
gate-keepers the fee they demanded for us both, which included a card
giving us entry to the paddock.
When I entered I expected to see a "sweet and delightsome plain," as
the public crier had advertised so loudly with his horn, but truly I
was not prepared for the beauty which was now revealed. Bowered in
trees the lovely pale green meadow lay, all starred with buttercups
and cut by the bronzed oval of the course. Pavilion and field glowed
in the colours of fluttering gowns; white and scarlet and green marked
the line where half a dozen mounted jockeys walked their lean horses
under the starter's tower. The sun blazed down, gilding the chestnut
necks of the horses; a cool breeze bellied the bright sleeves of the
jockeys, and blew the petticoats and ribbons till they flapped like
rainbow flags.
Mount was nudging me, sulkily demanding to be informed where bets were
placed, and adding that he knew a horse as well as the next man.
However, when he proposed that I allow him to double my capital for
me, I flatly refused, and reproached him for wishing to risk anything
now.
"Well, then," he muttered, "lay a sovereign yourself for luck;" but I
paid no attention, and fixed my eyes on the pavilion to search it
through and through for Silver Heels.
The longer I searched the more hopeless I felt my task to be; I could
see a score of maids in that vast bouquet, any one of which might have
been Silver Heels, but was not.
I then sought to discover Lady Shelton, a large, sluggish lady whom I
had noticed at Johnstown--not attracted by her beauty, but to observe
her how she did eat a barrel of oysters in pickle, when visiting our
guard-house with her kinsman, Colonel Guy Johnson.
I could not find her, though there were many ladies in the pavilion
who appeared to resemble her in largeness and girth, and in fatness of
hand and foot.
With my arm on Mount's, who had fallen a-pouting, I paced the sward,
searching the pavilion through and through, unmindful of the battery
of bright eyes which swept and raked us with indolent contempt. Where
was Silver Heels? Ay, where in the devil's name had the little baggage
hid herself? Many ladies and their consorts in the pavilion were
rising and passing under a yellow canopy to the right, where there
appeared to be a luncheon spread on tables; and I did see and smell
large bowls of sweetened punch, Mount smelling the same and
thoughtfully clacking his tongue.
"The quality," he observed, "have punch and French wines. Yet I dare
wager a pocketful o' sixpences that they have not my depth, and God
knows I would cheerfully prove it."
"Nobody is like to challenge you," I said, coldly. "Come, we must find
my cousin, Miss Warren, or our journey here fails."
The fox-hunting gentry in pink were coming across the field in a body,
spurs glistening and curly horns striking fire in the sunshine. As
they passed us, clink! clink! over the turf, a strangely familiar eye
met mine and held it--the puzzled eye of a young man, dressed in red
coat and tops and wearing a black velvet cap. Where had I seen him
before? He, too, appeared perplexed, and, as he passed, involuntarily
touched the peak of his cap with his hunting-whip. Suddenly I knew
him, and at the same moment he left the company and came hastily up to
me, offering his hand. The fox-hunter was my old acquaintance, Mr.
Bevan, the dragoon, and he had actually recognized me under my sunburn
and buckskins. Rivals never forget.
However, there was no mistaking his cordiality, and I should have been
an oaf and a churl not to have met him fairly by the hand he offered.
"_Sans arriere pensee, sans rancune!_" he said, heartily, the French
not pleasing me; but I returned his straightforward clasp and told him
I bore no more malice than did he.
"I heard you speak in 'Governor's Hall,'" he said, and I saw his eyes
twinkle, though his mouth betrayed no mirth, so I only bowed seriously
and told him I was honoured by his presence.
"Was not that gentleman Patrick Henry--the one in black who led the
poor savage out?" he asked.
"Doubtless you know Patrick Henry better than I do," I answered,
cautiously.
He laughed outright.
"Pray, believe me, Mr. Cardigan, I am not prying. It is rumoured that
Patrick Henry has been at some rebel tavern in town. A few thought
they recognized him in 'Governor's Hall,' and many claim that he wrote
that great speech for Logan."
"If he did he is the greatest orator of our times," I said.
"Do you believe he did?"
"No," said I, bluntly.
He looked at me with curious, friendly eyes.
"You have become famous, Mr. Cardigan, since we last met."
"You would say 'notorious,'" I rejoined, smiling.
He protested vigorously:
"No! no! I understand you are not of our party, but, believe me, were
I a--a--patriot, as they say, I should be proud to hear a comrade
utter the words you uttered in 'Governor's Hall'!"
"Did I say I was a rebel?" I asked, laughing.
"Well," he rejoined, "if that speech did not commit you, we are but a
dull company here in Pittsburg."
He glanced after his comrades, who were now entering the canopied
space where refreshments lay piled between the bottles and
punch-bowls; and he straightway invited me, turning with a bow to
include Jack Mount, whom I had not dared present under his proper
name.
Mount began to accept with a flourish, but I cut him short with
excuses, which Mr. Bevan accepted politely, expressing his regret.
Then again he offered me his hand so frankly that I drew him aside,
and begged his indulgence and forgetfulness for my boorish behaviour
at Johnson Hall.
"The fault was mine," he said, instantly; "I sneered at your militia
and deserved your rebuke. Had I not deserved it, I should have called
you out, Mr. Cardigan."
"You conducted properly," said I; "on the contrary, I must blush for
my churlishness when you favoured my hilt with a ribbon."
His friendly eyes grew grave, and he began bending his hunting-whip
into a bow, thoughtfully studying the buttercups at his feet.
After a moment he looked up, saying, "Do you know that this morning
the banns were published for the wedding of Lord Dunmore and your
kinswoman, Miss Warren?"
So, after all, and in spite of my letter, Dunmore had done this
shameful thing! I think my scowling face gave Bevan his answer, for he
laid his hand on my arm and looked at me earnestly.
"It is no shame," he said, "for me to tell you that Miss Warren has
refused me. How can a heart be humbled which has loved such a woman?"
"She is not a woman yet," I said, harshly; "she is a child, and a
wilful one at that! Damnation! sir, it maddens me to see men after
her, and she but fifteen!"
"Miss Warren celebrated her sixteenth birthday with a dinner at Lady
Shelton's a week since," said Bevan, colouring up.
I thought a moment, frowning and counting on my fingers. Yes, that was
true; Silver Heels was sixteen now. But that only increased my
irritation, for the danger suddenly assumed menacing proportions,
which must increase every moment now that the barriers of childhood no
longer barred the men who hunted her.
"I have told you this," said Bevan, stiffly, "because I believed you
were in love with Miss Warren, and must suffer great pain to learn of
her betrothal to Lord Dunmore."
"And--what then, sir?" I asked, angry and perplexed.
"This, Mr. Cardigan! That my own ill fortune has not left me less
devoted to her happiness; that this marriage is a monstrous thing and
will one day drive her to despair; that I do most earnestly believe
that Miss Warren loves a man more worthy of her."
"What man?" I demanded, sharply.
"You should not ask me that!" he retorted, more sharply still.
"But I do! Confound it, I know from her own lips that she dotes on
some conceited, meddling ass! And if I can but lay my hand on his
collar--"
Bevan was staring at me in such frank amazement that I bit my words
short.
"Did Miss Warren confess that she loved?" he asked.
I assented in silence.
"A--a fool?"
I nodded.
Bevan burst into a bitter laugh.
"Then let me tell you, sir, that I have heard her praise this same
meddling fool and laud his every word as Heaven's own wisdom! Ay, sir,
and boast of his bravery and his wit and his glorious person till I
thought this fool a very god from Olympus, and marvelled at my own
blindness in not earlier perceiving it."
"You know him?" I cried.
"Indeed, he is now well known in Pittsburg town, Mr. Cardigan."
"But you--"
"Yes, I know him."
After a moment's silence I said, "Is he worthy of her?"
"What man is?" he answered, quietly.
"Oh, many men; pardon, but you are in love, and so are blinded. I see
clearly. I know my cousin, and I know that she is a wilful maid who
has raised the devil out o' bounds, and is ready to run to cover now."
Bevan was red in the face.
"It is a kinsman's privilege to criticise," he said.
"A kinsman's duty!" I added. "Were I not jealous for her honour and
happiness, I would cry Dunmore _merci!_ and think my cousin a
fortunate maid! Curse him! When I think of that man I can scarce look
at my hands so guiltless of the creature's blood. But they will not
stay clean long if he pushes me. God help the man who bars our way
northward!"
"If you mean to take her," said Bevan, in a low voice, "I wish you
godspeed. But how can you pass the fort, Mr. Cardigan?"
"Do you believe Dunmore would detain us?" I asked, blankly.
"I know he would if he heard of it in time."
I thought a moment, then laid my hand on Bevan's shoulder, and, on the
impulse, told him what our plans were. He listened in silent sympathy,
nodding at times, turning to glance at Mount, who sat under a tree
chewing grass-blades and sniffing at the distant punch-bowls.
When I had told him all, he reflected, slowly switching the sod with
his whip. Presently he said: "I am glad you told me this. I will be at
the King's Road gate to-night. If there is trouble with the sentries I
will vouch for you."
His quiet generosity touched me deeply, and I told him so.
"Could a gentleman do less?" he asked, gravely. Then a sudden smile
lighted his eyes, and he added: "She will never give up her Olympian
god, though she thought to fling him away for his indifference. And,
Mr. Cardigan, though this man she loves is truly all she claims, he
is, as she told you, the greatest fool on earth!"
"Then he can never have her!" I said, contemptuously.
"Ah--wait!" he replied, with a curiously sad smile. "A fool and his
folly are soon parted when in the company of Miss Warren."
"You believe he will follow her? That's what she said, too!" I
exclaimed, hotly.
Again he burst into a laugh which was quite free from bitterness.
"Yes, he is certain to follow you," he said. "Black Care rides behind
the horseman, but this man will stick closer than your own shadow."
"We'll see," I muttered.
He offered me his hand, pressing mine firmly.
"You know Miss Warren is here?" he asked, cautiously.
"I am seeking her," said I.
"She walked to the hill, yonder, with Lady Shelton, after the last
race," he said, pointing with his whip to a wooded knoll which I could
just see rising behind the paddocks.
"Dunmore is searching everywhere for her," he added, significantly.
So we parted, I warm with gratitude, he quietly cordial, yet still
wearing that singular smile which I could not quite understand.
As for pity, I had none for him, nor did I believe his sorrow could be
very profound over his dismissal by Silver Heels. But then I knew
nothing of such matters, having never been in love. As for the
gentleman-god who had turned Silver Heels's silly head, I meant to
deal with him the instant he made his appearance.
Mount, tired of cropping the herbage under his tree, rejoined me
fretfully, demanding to know why I had not accepted the invitation to
refreshment; and I told him quite plainly that I had no intention to
further test his sobriety, in view of the work we had before us.
Together we entered the paddock, where hostlers and jockeys were
grooming the beautiful, slender horses, and though I longed to linger,
I dared not stay longer than to hug one splendid mare and whisper in
her listening, silky ears that she was a beauty without peer.
The boy who was washing her sourly warned me off, doubtless fearing
the touch of a stranger, lest he prove one of those miscreants who
harm horses. So I passed on, nodding good-bye to the lovely mare,
Heather-Bee, as she was called by the name stitched on her blanket.
In the rear of the paddock a path led through a gate and up the wooded
knoll. I looked around for Mount; he was plaintively helping himself
to a cup of water from the horse-trough spring, so I waited. And, as I
stood there, down the path came two fat people, a lady and her escort,
picking their way with all the majesty of elephants. I knew Lady
Shelton at once; none could mistake that faded and moon-like face with
the little selfish under-lip and the folded creases beside a mouth
which was made only for feeding. None could mistake those little fat
feet, trotting under the daintily raised petticoat.
She scarcely deigned to glance at me; the gentleman beside her paid me
no attention; and I was thankful enough that Lady Shelton had not
recognized me.
They were waddling down the paddock some distance away when Mount
rejoined me, complaining of the cheerless draught which my obstinacy
had compelled him to swallow, and we passed the gate and ascended the
pretty slope.
We were, perhaps, half-way up the slope, when I heard a footstep
behind us and glanced back. What was my astonishment to behold the
Weasel trotting along at our heels.
"Where on earth did you come from?" I asked.
"From the 'Virginia Arms,'" he replied, seriously. "I like to be near
Jack."
Mount, in pleased surprise, had already laid his great paw on the
Weasel's shoulder. Now he smiled at the little careworn man with
wonderful tenderness. It was strange, the affection between these two
roaming men, the naive fidelity of the Weasel, the fostering care of
the younger giant, whose attitude was sometimes fatherly, sometimes
filial.
The Weasel looked back at the course where, already, the bell was
striking to warn the jockeys, and where, one after another, the horses
cantered out to the judges' stand and stood restively, or backed and
pirouetted and reared in the sunshine.
"Have you ever before seen a race?" I asked.
"I? A race?" He waved his hand with a peculiarly sad gesture. "Many a
noble horse has carried my colours on Cambridge Downs," he said,
simply. "Many a plate have my youngsters won for me, Mr. Cardigan."
He looked out over the green meadow, folding his small, dry hands
meekly.
"Lord, Lord," he murmured, "the world has changed since then! The
world has changed!"
"Friends have not," murmured Mount.
"No, no, you are quite right, Jack," said Renard, hastily.
"Then who the devil cares how the world may change," snapped Mount.
"Come, Cade, old friend, sit you here in the sweet grass and you and I
will wager straws on the jockeys' colours yonder, while our young
gentleman here lightly goes a-courting!"
I did not choose to notice Mount's remark, knowing that he meant no
offence, so I left the pair sitting on the sod and climbed the
remaining half of the slope alone.
Now, no sooner had I reached the top of the knoll than I perceived
Silver Heels, sitting upon a rock, reading a letter; and when I drew
near, my moccasins making no sound, I could not help but see that it
was my letter she perused so diligently. It gratified me to observe
that she apparently valued the instructions in my letter, and I
trusted she intended to profit by them, for Heaven knew she needed
admonition and the judicious counsel of a mature intellect.
"Silver Heels," I began, kindly.
She started, then crushed the letter to a ball, thrusting it into her
bosom.
"Oh, Michael, you are insufferable!" she cried.
"What!" I exclaimed, astonished.
Her eyes filled and she sprang up.
"I know not whether to laugh or cry, so vexed am I!" she stammered,
and called me booby and Paul Pry, drying her eyes the while her tongue
upbraided me.
"I am not spying," said I, hotly; "don't pretend that scrawl was a
love-letter, for I know it to be my own!"
"Ah--you _did_ come spying!" she flashed out, stamping her foot
furiously.
"Lord! was there ever such a spiteful maid!" I cried. "I came here to
have a word with you concerning our journey this night. I care not a
penny whistle for your love-letters. Can you not understand that?"
She turned somewhat pale and stood still. Her under-lip quivered
between her teeth.
"Yes," she said, slowly, "I understand."
I had not meant to speak harshly, and I told her so. She nodded,
scarcely listening. Then I spoke of our coming journey, which, though
it galled me to say so, I explained to her was nothing less than a
flight.
She acquiesced, saying she was ready, and that she only longed to
leave the town forever. She said that she had known nothing but
unhappiness here, and that the memory of it would always be abhorrent,
which surprised me, as I had understood that the gentleman-god dwelt
hereabouts. However, I said nothing to disturb her or endanger her
docility, and we discussed our plans reasonably and with perfect
calmness.
I was pleased to see that she already appeared to be in better health.
Rouge and patch had disappeared; her colour was better; her eyes
brighter; her lips redder. Also, her gown was simpler and more
pleasing to me, and her hair bore no extravagant towers, but was
sweetly puffed and rolled from her white forehead. Still, her arms
were more frail than I liked to see, and there rested a faint bluish
shadow under each eye.
"How came you to find me out, here in my retreat?" she asked, slowly.
"Mr. Bevan told me," I replied, watching her.
"Poor Mr. Bevan," she murmured; "how jealous you were of him."
"He is a splendid fellow," I declared, much ashamed.
"So you are already friends," she observed, in a musing way.
"I trust so," I replied, fervently.
"Is it not sudden?" she asked.
But I would not commit myself.
"Silver Heels," I said, "does it not seem good to be together again
here in the sunshine?"
"Ah, yes!" she cried, impetuously, then stopped.
Doubtless she was thinking of the gentleman-god.
I sat down on the grass beside her and began pulling buttercups. One I
held under her white chin to see if she still loved butter.
"I love all that I ever loved," she said, leaning forward over her
knees to pluck a tiny blue bud in the grass.
"Do you remember that day you bit me in the school-room?" I asked,
with youthful brutality.
The crimson flooded her temples. She involuntarily glanced at my left
hand; the scar was still there, and she covered her eyes tightly with
her hands.
"Oh! Oh! _Oh!_" she murmured, in horror. "What a savage I was! No
wonder you hated me--"
"Only at moments," I said, magnanimously; "I always liked you, Silver
Heels."
Presently she drew her hands from her eyes and touched her flushed
cheeks with the blue blossom thoughtfully.
"Michael," she said, "I--I never told you, but I was very glad when
you came to explain to me that night in the pantry."
"Well," said I, stiffly, "you certainly concealed your pleasure. Lord,
child, how you scorned me!"
"I know it," she muttered, in quick vexation; "I was a perfect fool.
You see, I--I was hurt so deeply that it frightened me--"
"You ought to have known that I meant nothing," said I. "Mrs. Hamilton
tormented me till I--I--well, whatever I did was harmless. Anyway, it
was done because I thought I loved you--I mean like a lover, you
know--"
"I know," said Silver Heels.
"After that," said I, smiling, "I knew my own mind."
"And I knew mine," said Silver Heels.
"And now I know the difference between hurt vanity and love," I added,
complacently.
"I, too," said Silver Heels.
"You can't know such things; you are scarcely sixteen," I insisted.
"My mother was wedded at sixteen; she wedded for love."
After a silence I asked her how she knew that, as she had never seen
her mother.
"Sir Peter Warren has told me in his letters," she said, simply.
"Besides, you are wrong when you say I never saw my mother. I did, but
I was too young to remember. She died when I was a year old."
"But you never saw your father," I said.
"Oh no. He was killed at sea by the French."
That was news to me, although I had always been aware that he had died
at sea on board his Majesty's ship _Leda_, one of Sir Peter's
squadron.
"Who told you he was killed by the French?" I asked, soberly.
"Sir Peter. A few days after you left Johnstown I received a packet
from Sir Peter. It came on a war-ship which put in at New York, and
the express brought it. Sir Peter also wrote to Sir William. I don't
know what he said. Sir William was very silent with me after that, but
just before I left with Lady Shelton to come here, he had a long talk
with me--"
She stopped abruptly.
"Well?" I asked.
Silver Heels twirled the blue bud in her fingers.
"He said--to--to tell you if I saw you in Pittsburg--to--to--I mean
that I was to say to you that Sir William had changed his mind--"
"About what?" I demanded, irritably.
"Our betrothal."
"Our betrothal?"
"Yes. I am not to wed you."
"Of course not," I said, rather blankly; "but I thought Sir William
desired it. He said that he did. He said it to me!"
"He no longer wishes it," said Silver Heels.
"Why?"
"I don't know," she answered, faintly.
I was hurt.
"Oh, very well," I observed, resentfully, "doubtless Sir William has
chosen a wealthy gentleman of rank and distinction for you. He is
quite right. I am only a cornet of horse, and won't be that long. All
the same, I cannot see why he forbids me to wed you. He told me he
wished it! I cannot see why he should so slight me! Why should he
forbid me to wed you?"
"Do you care?" asked Silver Heels.
"Who--I? Care? Why--why, I don't know. It is not very pleasant to be
told you are too poor and humble to wed your own kin if you wish to.
Suppose I wished to?"
After a moment she said: "Well--it's too late now."
"How do you know?" I said, sharply. "I do not see why I should be
driven away from you! It is unfair! It is unkind! It is mortifying and
I don't like it! See here, Silver Heels, why should Sir William drive
me away from you?"
"You have never needed driving," said Silver Heels.
"Yes, I have!" I retorted. "Didn't you drive me away for Bevan?"
After a silence she stole a glance at me.
"Would you come back--now?"
Something in her voice startled me.
"Why--yes," I stammered, not knowing exactly what she meant; "I cannot
see that there is such difference in rank between us that Sir William
should forbid me to wed you. Of course you would not wed beneath you,
and, as for me, I'd sooner cut my head off!"
"I was afraid," she ventured, "that perhaps--perhaps Sir William
thought you had become too fine for me. I could not endure to wed you
if that were true."
This was a new idea. Was it true that my quality unfitted me to mate
with Silver Heels? The idea did not gratify me now.
"I'll tell you this," said I, "that if I loved you in that way--you
know what I mean!--I'd wed you anyhow!"
"But I would not wed you!" she said, haughtily.
"You would not refuse me?" I asked, in amazement.
"I should hate you--if you were above me--in rank!"
"Even if you loved me before?"
"Ah, yes--even if I loved you--as I love--him whom I love."
Her clear eyes were looking straight into mine now. Again her voice
had stirred some new and untouched chord which curiously thrilled,
sounding stealthily within me.
She lowered her eyes to the blue blossom in her fingers, and I saw her
crush it. What soft, white fingers she had! The flushed tips, crushing
the blossom, fascinated me.
Again, suddenly, my heart began to beat heavily, thumping in my throat
so strangely that I shivered and passed my hand over my breast.
Silver Heels bent lower over her idle hands; her fingers, so
exquisite, were still now.
Presently I said, "Who is this fool whom you love?"
I had not thought to fright or hurt her, but she flushed and burned
until all her face was surging scarlet to her hair.
"Silver Heels," I stammered, catching her fingers.
At the touch the strange thrill struck through my body and I choked,
unable to utter a word; but the desire for her hands set me quivering,
and I caught her fingers and drew them, interlocked, from her eyes.
Her eyes! Their beauty amazed me; their frightened, perilous sweetness
drew my head down to them. Breathless, her mouth touched mine; against
me her heart was beating; then suddenly she had gone, and I sprang to
my feet to find her standing tearful, quivering, with her hands on her
throbbing throat. I leaned against a sapling, dazed, content to meet
her eyes and strive to think. Useless! In my whirling thoughts I could
but repeat her name, endlessly. Other thoughts crept in, but flew
scattering to the four winds, while every pulse within me throbbed out
her name, repeating, ceaselessly repeating, in my beating heart.
We were so poor in years, so utterly untried in love, that the
strangeness of it set us watching one another. Passion, shaking frail
bodies, startles, till pain, always creeping near, intrudes, dismaying
maid and youth to love's confusion.
With a sort of curious terror she watched me leaning there, and I saw
her trembling fingers presently busied with the silken hat ribbons
under her chin, tying and retying as though she knew not what she did.
Then of a sudden she dropped on the rock and fell a-weeping without a
sound; and I knelt beside her, crushing her shoulders close to me, and
kissing her neck and hands, nay, the very damask on her knees, and the
silken tongue of her buckled shoon among the buttercups.
Why she wept I knew not, nor did she--nor did I ask her why. Her frail
hands fell listlessly, scarcely moving under my lips. Once she laid
her arm about my neck, then dropped it as though repelled. And never a
word could we find to break the silence.
I heard the wind blowing somewhere in the world, but where, I cared
not. I heard blossoms discreetly stirring, and dusky branches
interlacing, taking counsel together behind their leafy, secret
screens. My ears were filled with voiceless whisperings, delicate and
noiseless words were forming in the silence, "I love you"; and my dumb
tongue and lips, unstirring, understood, and listened. Then, when my
sweetheart had also heard, she turned and put both arms around my
neck, linking her fingers, and her gray eyes looked down at me, beside
her knees.
* * * * *
"Now you must go," she was repeating, touching her little French hat
with tentative fingers to straighten it, but eyes and lips tenderly
smiling at me. "My Lady Shelton and Sir Timerson Chank will surely
return to catch you here if you hasten not--dear heart."
"But will you not tell me when you first loved me, Silver Heels?" I
persisted.
"Well, then--if you must be told--it was on the day when you first
wore your uniform, and I saw you were truly a man!"
"That day! When you scarcely spoke to me?"
"Ay, that was the reason. Yet now I think of it, I know I have always
loved you dearly; else why should I have been so hurt when you misused
me; why should I have cried abed so many, many nights, vowing to my
heart that I did hate you as I hated no man! Ah--dear friend, you will
never know--"
"But," I insisted, "you grew cool enough to wed Lord Dunmore--"
"Horror! Why must you ever hark back to him when I tell you it was not
I who did that, but a cruelly used and foolish child, stung with the
pain of your indifference, maddened to hear you talk of mating me as
though I were your hound!--and my only thought was to put myself above
you and beyond your reach to shame me--"
"Oh, Silver Heels!" I murmured, aghast at my own wickedness.
But she was already smiling again, with her slender hands laid on my
shoulders.
"All that tastes sweetly--now," she said.
"It is ashes in my mouth," I said, bitterly, and upbraided myself
aloud, until she placed her fingers on my face and silently signed me
to turn around.
At the same instant a wheezy noise came to my ears, and the next
moment, over the edge of the slope, a large, round face rose like the
full moon.
Fascinated, I watched it; the wheezing grew louder and more laboured.
"Lady Shelton! Oh, go! go!" whispered Silver Heels. But it was too
late for flight had I been so minded.
Suddenly my Lady Shelton's fat feet began to trot as though of their
own notion, for her cold, flabby features expressed no emotion,
although, from the moment her moon-like face had risen behind the
hill, I saw that her eyes were fixed on me.
After her puffed the fat gentleman, Sir Timerson Chank, and behind him
came mincing Lord Dunmore, fanning his face with a lace handkerchief,
his little gold-edged French hat under his arm. Faith, he was in a
rare temper.
Lady Shelton paddled up to Silver Heels, halted, and panted at her.
Then she turned on me and panted at me until her voice returned. With
her voice, her features assumed a most extraordinary change; billows
of fat agitated the expanse of chin and cheek, and her voice, babyish
in fury, made me jump, for it sounded as though some tiny, pixy
creature, buried inside of her, was scolding me.
Sir Timerson Chank now bore down on my left and presently rounded to,
delivering his broadside at short range; but I turned on him savagely,
bidding him hold his tongue, which so astonished him that he obeyed
me.
As for Dunmore, his shrill prattle never ceased, and he danced and
vapoured and fingered his small-sword, till my hands itched to throw
him into the blackberry thicket.
"If," said I, to Lady Shelton, "you are pleased to forbid me your
door, pray remember, madam, that your authority extends no farther! I
shall not ask your permission to address my cousin, Miss Warren--nor
yours!" I added, wheeling on Sir Timerson Chank.
"Sir Timerson! Sir Timerson! Arrest him! You are a magistrate. Sir
Timerson! Arrest him! Oh, I'm all of a twitter!" panted Lady Shelton.
But Sir Timerson Chank made no sign of compliance.
"Lord Dunmore," I said, "by what privilege do you assume to vapour and
handle the hilt of your small-sword in Miss Warren's presence?"
"Sink me!" cried Lord Dunmore. "Sink me now, Mr. Cardigan; you should
know that I have privileges, sir. I will have you to know that I have
privileges, sir! Crib me! but I will assert my rights!"
"Your--what?" I replied, contemptuously.
"My rights! My privilege to defend Miss Warren--my rights, sir! I
stand upon them, crib me, if I don't!"
"Shame on you!" cried Lady Shelton, panting angrily at me. "Shame on
you--you mannerless, roving, blustering, hectoring rebel!--you--you
_boy_! Oh, I'm all of a twitter! Sir Timerson, I'm all of a
twitter!--"
"Oh tally!" broke in Dunmore, peeping at me through his
quizzing-glass. "The lad's moon-mad! A guinea to a china orange that
the lad's moon-mad. You may see it in his eyes, Sir Timerson. You may
see he's non compos--eh, Sir Timerson? Sink me if he isn't!"
How I controlled myself I scarcely know, but I strove to remember that
a hand raised to Lord Dunmore, Governor of Virginia, meant the ruin of
my plans for the night. As I stood staring at the wizened macaroni,
aching to take his sword, break it, and spank him with the fragments,
I saw Jack Mount and the Weasel cautiously reconnoitring the situation
from the hill's edge.
Ere I could motion them away they had made up their minds that I was
in distress, and now they came swaggering into our circle, thumbs
hooked in their shirts, saluting poor Silver Heels with a flourish
that drew a thin scream from Lady Shelton.
"Trouble with this old scratch-wig?" inquired Mount, nodding his head
sideways towards Lord Dunmore.
"Damme!" gasped Dunmore. "Do you know who I am, you beast?"
"I know you're a ruddled old hunks," said Mount, carelessly. "Who may
the other guinea wig-stand be, Mr. Cardigan?"
As he spoke he looked across at Sir Timerson Chank, then suddenly his
eyes grew big as saucers and a low whistle escaped his lips.
"Gad!" he exclaimed. "It's the magistrate or I'm a codfish!"
"Fellow!" roared Sir Timerson, his face purpling with passion.
"Fellow! Thunder and Mars! Lord Dunmore, this is Jack Mount, the
highwayman!"
For an instant Dunmore stood transfixed, then he screamed out: "Close
the gates! Close the gates, Sir Timerson! He shall not escape, damme!
No, he shall not escape! Call the constables, Sir Timerson; call the
constables!"
Mount had paled a little, but now as Sir Timerson began to bellow for
a constable, his colour came back and he stepped forward, laying a
heavy hand on the horrified magistrate's shoulder.
"Come now; come now," he said; "stop that bawling, or I'll put your
head between your knees and truss you up like a basted capon!" And he
gave him a slight shake which dislodged Sir Timerson's forty-guinea
wig.
"You Tory hangman," said Mount, scowling, "if I ever took a penny from
you it was to help drive you and your thieving crew out of the land!
Do you hear that? Now go and howl for your thief-takers, and take his
Lordship, here, with you to squall for his precious constables!" And
he gave Sir Timerson a shove over the grassy slope.
Lady Shelton shrieked as Sir Timerson went wabbling down the hill, but
Mount turned fiercely on Dunmore and shook his huge fist under his
nose.
"Hunt me down if you dare!" he growled. "Move a finger to molest me
and the people shall know how you stop public runners and scalp them,
too! Oho! Now you scare, eh? Out o' my way, you toothless toad!"
Dunmore shrank back, almost toppling down the hill, which he hurriedly
descended and made off after Sir Timerson towards the pavilion.
"Come," said I, "that will do for the present, Jack. Look yonder! Your
friend, the magistrate, is toddling fast to trap you. You should be
starting if you mean to get out of this scrape a free man."
"Pooh!" replied Mount, swaggering. "I've time to dine if I chose, but
I'm not hungry. Come, Cade; we needs must kick some planks out of that
stockade below us, if they guard the gates. But we have time to
stroll."
The Weasel did not appear to hear him, and stood staring at Silver
Heels with an expression so strange that it was almost terrifying. For
a moment I feared he had gone stark mad.
"Cade!" repeated Mount. "What is the matter, Cade? What do you see?
Not another fat magistrate? Cade! What on earth troubles you, old
friend?" And he stepped quickly to the Weasel's side, I following.
"Cade!" he cried, shaking his comrade's arm.
The Weasel turned a ghastly face.
"Who is she?" he motioned, with his lips.
"Do you mean Miss Warren?" I asked, astonished.
"A ghost," he muttered, shivering in every limb.
Presently he began to move towards Silver Heels, and Mount and I drew
him back by the shoulders.
"Cade! Cade!" cried Mount, anxiously. "Don't look like that, for God's
sake!"
"For God's sake," repeated Renard, trembling.
His eyes were dim with tears. Mount leaned over to me and whispered:
"He is mad!" But the Weasel heard him and looked up slowly.
"No, no," he said; "a little wrong in the head, Jack, only a little
wrong. I thought I saw my wife, Jack, or her ghost--ay, her ghost--the
ghost of her youth and mine--"
A spasm shook him; he hid his face in his hands a moment, then scoured
out the tears with his withered fingers.
"Ask the young lady's pardon for me," he muttered; "I have frightened
her."
I walked over to Silver Heels, who stood beside Lady Shelton, amazed
at the scenes which had passed so swiftly before her eyes, and I drew
her aside, mechanically asking pardon from the petrified dowager.
"He is a little mad," I said; "he thought he saw in you the ghost of
his lost wife. Sorrow has touched his brain, I think, but he is very
gentle and means no harm. Speak to him, Silver Heels. I owe my life to
those two men."
She stood looking at them a moment, then, laying her hand on my arm,
she went slowly across to Mount and Renard.
They uncovered as she came up; the Weasel's face grew dead and fixed,
but the pathos in his eyes was indescribable.
"If you are Mr. Cardigan's friends, you must be mine, too," said
Silver Heels, sweetly. "All you have done for him, you have done for
me."
Fascinated, Mount gaped at her, tongue-tied, clutching his coon-skin
cap to his breast. But the fibre of the two men showed the difference
of their grain in a startling form, for, into Renard's shrunken frame
came something that straightened him and changed him; he lifted his
head with a peculiar dignity almost venerable, and, stepping forward,
took Silver Heels's small hand in his with a delicate grace that any
man might envy. Then he bent and touched her fingers with his lips.
"An old man's devotion, my child," he said. "You have your mother's
eyes."
"My--my mother's eyes?" faltered Silver Heels, glancing fearfully at
me.
"Yes--your mother's eyes--and all of her. I knew her, child."
"My--mother?"
He touched her hand with his lips again, slowly.
"I am a little troubled in my head sometimes," he said, gravely. "Do
you fear me?"
"N--no," murmured Silver Heels.
Their eyes met in silence.
Presently I took Silver Heels by the hand and led her back to Lady
Shelton.
"Madam," I said, "if aught of harm comes to these two men, through
Lord Dunmore, betwixt this hour and the same hour to-morrow, there is
not a hole on earth into which he can creep for mercy. Tell this to my
Lord Dunmore, and bid him stay away. I speak in no heat, madam; I mean
what I say. For as surely as I stand here now, that hour in which Lord
Dunmore and Sir Timerson start to hunt us down, they die. Pray you,
madam, so inform those gentlemen."
Then I turned to Silver Heels, who impulsively stretched out both
hands. The next moment I rejoined Mount and Renard, and we passed
rapidly through the grove and down the hill to the stockade, where
Mount drove out a plank with his huge shoulder, and we were free of
Roanoke Plain.