A SUPPER
Now, what seemed strange to me at the Hall was the cheerfulness of all
under circumstances which must have mortified any Royalist, and, in
particular, the principal family in North America of that political
complexion.
Even Sir John, habitually cold and reserved, appeared to be in most
excellent spirits for such a man, and his wintry smile shed its faint
pale gleam more than once upon the company assembled at supper.
On my arrival there seemed to be nobody there except the groom, who took
my mare, Kaya, and Frank, Sir William's butler, who ushered me and
seemed friendly.
Into the drawing room came black Flora, all smiles, to say that the
gentlemen were dressing but that Lady Johnson would receive me.
She was seated before her glass in her chamber, and the red-cheeked
Irish maid she had brought from New York was exceedingly busy curling
her hair.
"Oh, Jack!" said Lady Johnson softly, and holding out to me one hand to
be saluted, "they told me you were in the village. Has it become
necessary that I must send for an old friend who should have come of his
own free will?"
"I thought perhaps you and Sir John might not take pleasure in a visit
from me," I replied, honestly enough.
"Why? Because last winter you answered the district summons and were on
guard at the church with the Rebel Mohawk company?"
So she knew that, too. But I had scarcely expected otherwise. And it
came into my thought that the dwarfish Bartholomews had given her news
of my doings and my whereabouts.
"Come," said she in her lively manner, "a good soldier obeys his
colonel, whoever that officer may chance to be--_for the moment_. And,
were you even otherwise inclined, Jack, of what use would it have been
to disobey after Philip Schuyler disarmed our poor Scots?"
"If Sir John feels as you do, it makes my visit easier for all," said I.
"Sir John," she replied, "is not a whit concerned. We here at the Hall
have laid down our arms; we are peaceably disposed; farm duties begin; a
multitude of affairs preoccupy us; so let who will fight out this
quarrel in Massachusetts Bay, so only that we have tranquillity and
peace in County Tryon."
I listened, amazed, to this school-girl chatter, marvelling that she
herself believed such pitiable nonsense.
Yet, that she did believe it I was assured, because in my Lady Johnson
there was nothing false, no treachery or lies or cunning.
Somebody sure had filled her immature mind with this jargon, which now
she repeated to me. And in it I vaguely perceived the duplicity and
ingenious manoeuvring of wills and minds more experienced than her
own.
But I said only that I hoped this county might escape the conflagration
now roaring through all New England and burning very fiercely in
Virginia and the Carolinas. Then, smiling, I made her a compliment on
her hair, which her Irish maid was dressing very prettily, and laughed
at her man's banyan which she so saucily wore in place of a levete. Only
a young and pretty woman could presume to wear a flowered silk banyan at
her toilet; but it mightily became Polly Johnson.
"Claudia is here," she remarked with a kindly malice perfectly
transparent.
I took the news in excellent part, and played the hopeless swain for a
while, to amuse her, and so cunningly, too, that presently the charming
child felt bound to comfort me.
"Claudia is a witch," says she, "and does vast damage to no purpose but
that it feeds her vanity. And this I have said frequently to her very
face, and shall continue until she chooses to refrain from such harmful
coquetry, and seems inclined to a more serious consideration of life and
duty."
"Claudia serious!" I exclaimed. "When Claudia becomes pensive, beware of
her!"
"Claudia should marry early--as I did," said she. But her features grew
graver as she said it, and I saw not in them that inner light which
makes delicately radiant the face of happy wifehood.
I thought, "God pity her," but I said gaily enough that retribution must
one day seize Claudia's dimpled hand and place it in the grasp of some
gentleman fitly fashioned to school her.
We both laughed; then she being ready for her stays and gown, I retired
to the library below, where, to my chagrin, who should be lounging but
Hiakatoo, war chief of the Senecas, in all his ceremonial finery.
Despite what dear Mary Jamison has written of him, nor doubting that
pure soul's testimony, I knew Hiakatoo to be a savage beast and a very
devil, the more to be suspected because of his terrible intelligence.
With him was a Mr. Hare, sometime Lieutenant in the Mohawk Regiment,
with whom I had a slight acquaintance. I knew him to be Tory to the
bone, a deputy of Guy Johnson for Indian affairs, and a very shifty
character though an able officer of county militia and a scout of no
mean ability.
Hare gave me good evening with much courtesy and self-possession.
Hiakatoo, also, extended a muscular hand, which I was obliged to take or
be outdone in civilized usage by a savage.
"Well, sir," says Hare in his frank, misleading manner, "the last o' the
sugar is a-boiling, I hear, and spring plowing should begin this week."
Neither he nor Hiakatoo had as much interest in husbandry as two
hoot-owls, nor had they any knowledge of it, either; but I replied
politely, and, at their request, gave an account of my glebe at Fonda's
Bush.
"There is game in that country," remarked Hiakatoo in the Seneca
dialect.
Instantly it entered my head that his remark had two interpretations,
and one very sinister; but his painted features remained calmly
inscrutable and perhaps I had merely imagined the dull, hot gleam that I
thought had animated his sombre eyes.
"There is game in the Bush," said I, pleasantly,--"deer, _bear_,
turkeys, and partridges a-drumming _the long roll_ all day long. And I
have seen a moose near Lake Desolation."
Now I had replied to the Seneca in the Canienga dialect; and he might
interpret in two ways my reference to _bears_, and also what I said
concerning the _drumming_ of the partridges.
But his countenance did not change a muscle, nor did his eyes. And as
for Hare, he might not have understood my play upon words, for he seemed
interested merely in a literal interpretation, and appeared eager to
hear about the moose I had seen near Lake Desolation.
So I told him I had watched two bulls fighting in the swamp until the
older beast had been driven off.
"Civilization, too, will soon drive away the last of the moose from
Tryon," quoth Hare.
"How many families at Fonda's Bush?" asked Hiakatoo abruptly.
I was about to reply, telling him the truth, and checked myself with
lips already parted to speak.
There ensued a polite silence, but in that brief moment I was convinced
that they realized I suddenly suspected them.
What I might have answered the Seneca I do not exactly know, for the
next instant Sir John entered the room with Ensign Moucher, of the old
Mohawk Regiment, and young Captain Watts from New York, brother to
Polly, Lady Johnson, a handsome, dissipated, careless lad, inclined to
peevishness when thwarted, and marred, perhaps, by too much adulation.
Scarce had compliments been exchanged with snuff when Lady Johnson
entered the room with Claudia Swift, and I thought I had seldom beheld
two lovelier ladies in their silks and powder, who curtsied low on the
threshold to our profound bows.
As I saluted Lady Johnson's hand again, she said: "This is most kind of
you, Jack, because I know that all farmers now have little time to
waste."
"Like Cincinnatus," said I, smilingly, "I leave my plow in the furrow at
the call of danger, and hasten to brave the deadly battery of your
bright eyes."
Whereupon she laughed that sad little laugh which I knew so well, and
which seemed her manner of forcing mirth when Sir John was present.
I took her out at her request. Sir John led Claudia; the others paired
gravely, Hare walking with the Seneca and whispering in his ear.
Candles seemed fewer than usual in the dining hall, but were sufficient
to display the late Sir William's plate and glass.
The scented wind from Claudia's fan stirred my hair, and I remembered it
was still the hair of a forest runner, neither short nor sufficiently
long for the queue, and powdered not a trace.
I looked around at Claudia's bright face, more brilliant for the saucy
patches and newly powdered hair.
"La," said she, "you vie with Hiakatoo yonder in Mohawk finery,
Jack,--all beads and thrums and wampum. And yet you have a pretty leg
for a silken stocking, too."
"In the Bush," said I, "the backwoods aristocracy make little of your
silk hosen, Claudia. Our stockings are leather and our powder black, and
our patches are of buckskin and are sewed on elbow and knee with
pack-thread or sinew. Or we use them, too, for wadding."
"It is a fashion like another," she remarked with a shrug, but watching
me intently over her fan's painted edge.
"The mode is a tyrant," said I, "and knows neither pity nor good taste."
"How so?"
"Why, Hiakatoo also wears paint, Claudia."
"Meaning that I wear lip-rouge and lily-balm? Well, I do, my impertinent
friend."
"Who could suspect it?" I protested, mockingly.
"You might have suspected it long since had you been sufficiently
adventurous."
"How so?" I inquired in my turn.
"By kissing me, pardieu! But you always were a timid youth, Jack Drogue,
and a woman's 'No,' with the proper stare of indignation, always was
sufficient to route you utterly."
In spite of myself I reddened under the smiling torment.
"And if any man has had that much of you," said I, "then I for one will
believe it only when I see your lip-rouge on his lips!"
"Court me again and then look into your mirror," she retorted calmly.
"What in the world are you saying to each other?" exclaimed Lady
Johnson, tapping me with her fan. "Why, you are red as a squaw-berry,
Jack, and your wine scarce tasted."
Claudia said: "I but ask him to try his fortune, and he blushes like a
silly."
"Shame," returned Lady Johnson, laughing; "and you have Mr. Hare's scalp
fresh at your belt!"
Hare heard it, and laughed in his frank way, which instantly disarmed
most people who had not too often heard it.
"I admit," said he, "that I shall presently perish unless this cruel
lady proves kinder, or restores to me my hair."
"It were more merciful," quoth Ensign Moucher, "to slay outright with a
single glance. I myself am long since doubly dead," he added with his
mealy-mouthed laugh, and his mean reddish eyes a-flickering at Lady
Johnson.
Sir John, who was carving a roast of butcher's meat, carved on, though
his young wife ventured a glance at him--a sad, timid look as though
hopeful that her husband might betray some interest when other men said
gallant things to her.
I asked Sir John's permission to offer a toast, and he gave it with cold
politeness.
"To the two cruellest and loveliest creatures alive in a love-stricken
world," said I. "Gentlemen, I offer you our charming tyrants. And may
our heads remain ever in the dust and their silken shoon upon our
necks!"
All drank standing. The Seneca gulped his Madeira like a slobbering dog,
noticing nobody, and then fell fiercely to cutting up his meat, until,
his knife being in the way, he took the flesh in his two fists and
gnawed it.
But nobody appeared to notice the Seneca's beastly manners; and such
general complaisance preoccupied me, because Hiakatoo knew better, and
it seemed as though he considered himself in a position where he might
disdain to conduct suitably amid a company which, possibly, stood in
need of his good will.
Nobody spoke of politics, nor did I care to introduce such a subject.
Conversation was general; matters concerning the town, the Hall, were
mentioned, together with such topics as are usually discussed among land
owners in time of peace.
And it seemed to me that Sir John, who had, as usual, remained coldly
reticent among his guests, became of a sudden conversational with a sort
of forced animation, like a man who recollects that he has a part to
play and who unwillingly attempts it.
He spoke of the Hall farm, and of how he meant to do this with this part
and that with that part; and how the herd bulls were now become useless
and he must send to the Patroon for new blood,--all a mere toneless and
mechanical babble, it seemed to me, and without interest or sincerity.
Once, sipping my claret, I thought I heard a faint clash of arms outside
and in the direction of the guard-house.
And another time it seemed to me that many horses were stirring
somewhere outside in the darkness.
I could not conceive of anything being afoot, because of Sir John's
parole, and so presently dismissed the incidents from my mind.
The wine had somewhat heated the men; laughter was louder, speech less
guarded. Young Watts spoke boldly of Haldimand and Guy Carleton, naming
them as the two most efficient servants that his Majesty had in Canada.
Nobody, however, had the effrontery to mention Guy Johnson in my
presence, but Ensign Moucher pretended to discuss a probable return of
old John Butler and of his son Walter to our neighborhood,--to hoodwink
me, I think,--but his mealy manner and the false face he pulled made me
the more wary.
The wine burned in Hiakatoo, but he never looked toward me nor directly
at anybody out of his blank red eyes of a panther.
Sir John had become a little drunk and slopped his wine-glass, but the
wintry smile glimmered on his thin lips as though some secret thought
contented him, and he was ever whispering with Captain Watts.
But he spoke always of the coming summer and of his cattle and fields
and the pursuits of peace, saying that he had no interest in Haldimand
nor in any kinsmen who had fled Tryon; and that all he desired was to be
let alone at the Hall, and not bothered by Phil Schuyler.
"For," says he, emptying his glass with unsteady hand, "I've enough to
do to feed my family and my servants and collect my rents; and I'm
damned if I can do it unless those excitable gentlemen in Albany mind
their own business as diligently as I wish to mind mine."
"Surely, Sir John," said I, "nobody wishes to annoy you, because it is
the universal desire that you remain. And, as you have pledged your
honour to do so, only a fool would attempt to make more difficult your
position among us."
"Oh, there are fools, too," said he in his slow voice. "There were fools
who supposed that the Six Nations would not resent ill treatment meted
out to Guy Johnson." His cold gaze rested for a second upon Hiakatoo,
then swept elsewhere.
Preoccupied, I heard Claudia's voice in my ear:
"Do you take no pleasure any longer in looking at me, Jack! You have
paid me very scant notice tonight."
I turned, smilingly made her a compliment, and she was now gazing into
the little looking-glass set in the handle of her French fan, and her
dimpled hand busy with her hair.
"Polly's Irish maid dressed my hair," she remarked. "I would to God I
had as clever a wench. Could you discover one to wait on me?"
Hare, who had no warrant for familiarity, as far as I was concerned,
nevertheless called out with a laugh that I knew every wench in the
countryside and should find a pretty one very easily to serve Claudia.
Which pleasantry did not please me; but Ensign Moucher and young Watts
bore him out, and they all fell a-laughing, discussing with little
decency such wenches as the two Wormwood girls near Fish House, and
Betsy and Jessica Browse--maids who were pretty and full of gaiety at
dance or frolic, and perhaps a trifle free in manners, but of whom I
knew no evil and believed none whatever the malicious gossip concerning
them.
The gallantries of such men as Sir John and Walter Butler were known to
everybody in the country; and so were the carryings on of all the
younger gentry and the officers from Johnstown to Albany. Young girls'
names--the daughters of tenants, settlers, farmers, were bandied about
carelessly enough; and the names of those famed for beauty, or a lively
disposition, had become more or less familiar to me.
Yet, for myself, my escapades had been harmless enough--a pretty maid
kissed at a quilting, perhaps; another courted lightly at a barn-romp; a
laughing tavern wench caressed en passant, but no evil thought of it and
nothing to regret--no need to remember aught that could start a tear in
any woman's eyes.
Watts said to Claudia: "There is a maid at Caughnawaga who serves old
Douw Fonda--a Scotch girl, who might serve you as well as Flora cares
for my sister."
"Penelope Grant!" exclaims Hare with an oath. Whereat these three young
men fell a-laughing, and even Sir John leered.
I had heard her name and that the careless young gallants of the country
were all after this young Scotch girl, servant to Douw Fonda--but I had
never seen her.
"She lives with the old gentleman, does she not?" inquired Claudia with
a shrug.
"She cares for him, dresses him, cooks for him, reads to him, sews,
mends, lights him to bed and tucks him in," said Hare. "My God, what a
wife she'd make for a farmer! Or a mistress for a gentleman."
"A wench I would employ very gladly," quoth Claudia, frowning. "Could
you get her ear, Jack, and fetch her?"
"Take her from Douw Fonda?" I exclaimed in surprise.
"The old man is like to die any moment," remarked Watts.
"Besides," said Moucher, "he has scores of kinsmen and their women to
take him in charge."
"She's a pretty bit o' baggage," said Sir John drunkenly. "If you but
kiss the little slut she looks at you like a silly kitten, and, I think,
with no more sense or comprehension."
Captain Watts darted an angry look at his brother-in-law but said
nothing.
Lady Johnson's features were burning and her lip quivered, but she
forced a laugh, saying that her husband could have judged only by
hearsay, and that the Scotch girl's reputation was still very good in
the country.
"Somebody'll get her," retorted Sir John, thickly, "for they're all
a-pestering--Walter Butler, too, when he was here,--and your brother,
and Hare and Moucher yonder. The little slut has yellow hair, but she's
too damned thin!----" he hiccoughed and upset his wine; and a servant
wiped his neck-cloth and his silk and silver waistcoat while he, with
wagging and unsteady head, gazed gravely down at the damage done.
Claudia set her lips to my ear: "The beast!--to affront his wife!" she
whispered. "Tell me, do you, also, go about your rustic gallantries in
the shameful manner of these educated and Christian gentlemen?"
"I seek no woman's destruction," said I drily.
"Not even mine?" She laughed as I reddened, and tapped me with her fan.
"If our young men do not turn this Scotch girl's head with their
philandering, send her to me and I will use her kindly."
"You would not seduce her from an old and almost helpless man who needs
her?" I demanded.
"I find my servants where I can in such days as these," said she coolly.
"And there are plenty to care for old Douw Fonda in Caughnawaga, but
only an accomplished wench like Penelope Grant would I trust to do my
hair and lace me. Will you send this girl to me?"
"No, I won't," said I bluntly. "I shall not charge myself with such an
errand, even for you. It is not a decent thing you ask of me or of the
wench, either."
"It is decent," retorted Claudia pettishly. "If she's as pretty a
baggage as is reported, some of our young fools will never let her alone
until one among them turns her silly head. Whereas the girl would be
safe with me."
"That is not my affair," I remarked.
"Do you wish her harm?"
"I tell you she is no concern of mine. And if she's not a hopeless fool
she'll know how to trust the gentry of County Tryon."
"You are of them, too, Jack," she said maliciously.
"I am a plain farmer and I trouble no woman."
"You trouble me," she insisted sweetly.
I laughed, not agreeably.
"You do so," she repeated. "I would you had courage to court me again."
"Do you mean courage or inclination, Claudia?"
She gave me a melting look, very sweet, and a trifle sad.
"With patience," she murmured, "you might awaken both our hearts."
"I know well what I'd awaken in you," said I; "I'd awaken the devil. No;
I've had my chance."
She sighed, still looking at me, and I awaited her further assault,
grimly armed with memories.
But ere she could speak, Hiakatoo lurched to his feet and stood towering
there unsteadily, his burning gaze fixed on space.
Whereat Sir John, now very tight and very drowsy, opened owlish eyes;
and Hare took the Seneca by the arm.
"If you desire to go," said he, "here are three of us ready to ride
beside you."
Moucher, too, stood up, and so did Captain Watts; but they were not in
their cups. Watts took Hiakatoo's blanket from a servant and cast it
over the tall warrior's shoulders.
"The Western Gate of the Confederacy lies unguarded," explained Hare to
us all, in his frank, amiable manner. "The great Gate Keeper, Hiakatoo,
bids you all farewell. Duty calls him toward the setting sun."
All had now risen from the table. Hiakatoo lurched past us and out into
the hallway; Hare and Moucher and Watts took smiling leave of Sir John;
the ladies gave them all a courteous farewell. Hare, passing, said to
me:
"To any who enquire you can answer pat enough to make an end to foolish
rumours concerning any meditated flight of this family."
"My answer," said I quietly, "is always the same: Sir William's son has
given his parole."
They went out after their Indian, which disturbed me greatly, as I could
not account for Hiakatoo's presence at Johnstown, and I was ill at ease
seeing him so apparently in charge of three known Tories, and one of
them a deputy of Guy Johnson.
However, I took my leave of Sir John, who gave me a wavering hand and
stared at me blankly. Then I kissed the ladies' hands and went out to
the porch where Billy waited with my mare, Kaya.
Lady Johnson came to the door as I mounted.
"Don't forget us when again you are in Johnstown," she said.
Claudia, too, appeared and stepped daintily out on the dewy grass,
lifting her petticoat.
"What a witching night," she exclaimed mischievously, "--what a night
for love! Do you mark the young moon, Jack, and how all the dark is
saturated with a sweet smell of new buds?"
"I mark it all," said I, laughing, "and, as for love, why, I love it
all, Claudia,--moon, darkness, scent of young leaves, the far forest
still as death, and the noise of the brook yonder."
"I meant a sweeter love," quoth she, coming to my stirrup and laying
both hands upon my saddle.
"There is no sweeter love," said I, still laughing, "--none happier than
the love of this silvery world of night which God made to heal us of the
blows of day."
"Whither do you ride, Jack?"
"Homeward."
"To Fonda's Bush?"
"Yes."
"Directly home?"
"I have a comrade----" said I. "He awaits me on the Mayfield Road."
"Why do you ride by Mayfield?"
"Because he waits for me there."
"Why, Jack?"
"He has friends to visit----"
"At Mayfield?"
"At Pigeon-Wood," I muttered.
"More gallantry!" she said, tossing her head. "But young men must have
their fling, and I am not jealous of Betsy Browse or of her pretty
sister, so that you ride not toward Caughnawaga----"
"What?"
"To see this rustic beauty, Penelope Grant----"
"Have I not refused to seek her for you?" I demanded.
"Yes, but not for yourself, Jack! Curiosity killed a cat and started a
young man on his travels!"
Exasperated by her malice I struck my mare's flanks with moccasined
heels; and as I rode out into the darkness Claudia's gaily mocking laugh
floated after me on the still, sweet air.