"With all thy rural echoes come,
Sweet comrade of the rosy day,
Wafting the wild bee's gentle hum,
Or cuckoo's plaintive roundelay."--CAMPBELL.
That night was passed under my own roof, in the family circle. Although
my presence on the estate was now generally known, to all who were
interested in it, I cannot say that I thought much of the anti-renters,
or of any risks incurred by the discovery. The craven spirit manifested
by the "Injins" in presence of the Indians, the assumed before the real,
had not a tendency to awaken much respect for the disaffected, and quite
likely disposed me to be more indifferent to their proceedings than I
might otherwise have been. At all events, I was happy with Patt and
Mary, and my uncle's wards, and did not give the disorganizers a
thought, until quite at the close of the evening. The manner in which
John went about to barricade the doors and windows, after the ladies had
retired, struck me unpleasantly, however, and it did not fail to produce
the same effect on my uncle. This seemingly important duty was done,
when my faithful _maitre-d'hotel_, for such, in a measure, was the
Englishman's station, came to me and my uncle, who were waiting for his
appearance in the library, armed like Robinson Crusoe. He brought us
each a revolving pistol, and a rifle, with a proper allowance of
ammunition.
"Missus," so John persevered in calling my grandmother, though it was
very unlike an English servant to do so, after he had been in the
country three months--"Missus 'as hordered harms to be laid in, in
quantities, Mr. Hugh, and hall of us has our rifles and pistols, just
like these. She keeps some for herself and Miss Martha, in her own room
still, but as she supposes you can make better use of these than the
maids, I had her orders to bring them down out of the maids' room, and
hoffer them to yourselves, gentlemen. They are hall loaded, and smart
weapons be they."
"Surely there has been no occasion as yet, for using such things as
these!" exclaimed my uncle.
"One doesn't know, Mr. Roger, when the hinimy may come. We have had only
three alarms since the ladies arrived, and most luckily no blood was
shed; though we fired at the hinimy, and the hinimy fired at us. When I
says no blood was spilt, I should add, on our side; for there was no way
to know how much the anti's suffered, and they hadn't good stone walls
to cover them, as we 'ad on our side."
"Gracious Providence! I had no notion of this! Hugh, the country is in a
worse state than I had supposed, and we ought not to leave the ladies
here an hour after to-morrow!"
As the ladies who came within my uncle's category, did not include Mary
Warren, I did not take exactly the same view of the subject as he did
himself. Nothing further was said on the subject, however; and shortly
after each shouldered his rifle, and retired to his own room.
It was past midnight when I reached my apartment, but I felt no
inclination for sleep. That had been an important day to me, one full of
excitement, and I was still too much under the influence of its
circumstances to think of my bed. There was soon a profound silence in
the house, the closing of doors and the sound of footsteps having
ceased, and I went to a window, to gaze on the scene without. There was
a three-quarters' moon, which gave light enough to render all the nearer
objects of the landscape distinctly visible. The view had nothing
remarkable in it, but it was always rural and pretty. The little river,
and the broad meadows, were not to be seen from my side of the house,
which commanded the carriage road that wound through the lawn--the
farm-house--the distant church--the neat and pretty rectory--the
dwelling of Mary, and a long reach of farms, that lay along the valley,
and on the broad breast of the rising ground to the westward.
Everything, far and near, seemed buried in the quiet of deep night. Even
the cattle in the fields had lain down to sleep; for, like men, they
love to follow the law of nature, and divide the hours by light and
darkness. John had placed the candles in my dressing-room, and closed
the inner shutters; but I had taken a seat by a window of the bedroom
and sat in no other light but that which came from the moon, which was
now near setting. I might have been ruminating on the events of the day
half an hour or more, when I fancied some object was in motion on a path
that led toward the village, but which was quite distinct from the
ordinary highway. This path was private, indeed, running fully a mile
through my own farm and grounds, bounded for a considerable distance by
high fences on each side of it, and running among the copses and
thickets of the lawn, as soon as it emerged from the fields. It had been
made in order to enable my grandfather to ride to his fields,
uninterrupted by gates or bars; and issuing into the bit of forest
already described, it passed through that by a short cut, and enabled us
to reach the hamlet by a road that saved nearly a mile in the whole
distance. This path was often used by those who left the Nest, or who
came to it, in the saddle, but rarely by any but those who belonged to
the family. Though old as the place itself, it was little known by
others, not suiting the general taste for publicity, there not being a
solitary dwelling on it between the Nest House itself and the point
where it emerged into the highway, beyond the wood, which was quite near
to the village.
I could see the whole line of this private path, with the exception,
here and there, of intervals that were hid by trees and thickets, from
the point where it terminated until it entered the wood. There could be
no mistake. Late as was the hour, some one mounted was galloping along
that path, winding his or _her_ way among the rails of the fences; now
plainly visible, then lost to view. I had caught a glimpse of this
phantom (for at that unusual hour, and by that delusive light, it
required no great effort of the imagination thus to fancy the
equestrian), just as it emerged from the wood, and could not well be
mistaken as to the accuracy of my discovery. The path led through a
pretty wooded ravine in the lawn, and no sooner did I lose sight of this
strange object than I turned my eyes eagerly to the spot where it ought
to reappear, on emerging from its cover.
The path lay in shadow for twenty rods on quitting the ravine, after
which it wound across the lawn to the door, for about twice that
distance in full moonlight. At the termination of the shadow there was a
noble oak, which stood alone, and beneath its wide branches was a seat
much frequented by the ladies in the heats of summer. My eye kept moving
from this point, where the light became strong, to that where the path
issued from the ravine. At the latter it was just possible to
distinguish a moving object, and, sure enough, there I got my next view
of the person I was watching. The horse came up the ascent on a
gallop--a pace that was continued until its rider drew the rein beneath
the oak. Here, to my surprise, a female sprang from the saddle with
great alacrity, and secured her steed within the shadow of the tree.
This was no sooner done than she moved on toward the house, in much
apparent haste. Fearful of disturbing the family, I now left my room on
tiptoe, and without a candle, the light of the moon penetrating the
passages in sufficient quantity to serve my purpose, descending as fast
as possible to the lower floor. Swift and prompt as had been my own
movement, it had been anticipated by another. To my great surprise, on
reaching the little side door to which the path led, and where the
ladies had long been accustomed to get into the saddle, when they used
it, I found a female figure, with her hand on the massive lock, as if
ready to turn its key at some expected summons. To my great
astonishment, on drawing nearer, I recognized, by the faint light that
penetrated through a little window over the door, the person of Mary
Warren!
I certainly started at this unexpected discovery, but, if she who caused
that start in me submitted to any similar emotion, I did not discover
it. She may have heard my step, however, descending the stairs, and have
been prepared for the meeting.
"You have seen her, too, have you, Mr. Littlepage!" exclaimed Mary,
though she used the precaution to speak in a suppressed tone. "What
_can_ have brought her here at this late hour?"
"You know who it is, then, Miss Warren?" I answered, feeling an
indescribable pleasure succeed my surprise, as I remembered the dear
girl, who was fully dressed, just as she had left the drawing-room an
hour before, must have been gazing out upon the moonlight view as well
as myself; a species of romance that proved something like a similiarity
of tastes, if not a secret sympathy between us.
"Certainly," returned Mary steadily. "I cannot well be mistaken in the
person, I think. It is Opportunity Newcome."
My hand was on the key, and I turned it in the lock. A bar remained, and
this I also removed, when we opened the door. Sure enough, there came
the person just named, within ten feet of the steps, which she doubtless
intended to ascend. She manifested surprise on ascertaining who were her
porters, but hastened into the house, looking anxiously behind her, as
if distrustful of pursuit or observation. I led the way to the library,
lighted its lamp, and then returned to my two silent companions, looking
a request for explanation.
Opportunity was a young woman, in her twenty-sixth year, and was not
without considerable personal charms. The exercise and excitement
through which she had just gone had heightened the color in her cheeks,
and rendered her appearance unusually pleasing. Nevertheless,
Opportunity was not a woman to awaken anything like the passion of love
in me, though I had long been aware such was her purpose. I suspected
that her present business was connected with this scheme, I will own,
and was prepared to listen to her communication with distrust. As for
Opportunity herself, she hesitated about making her disclosures, and the
very first words she uttered were anything but delicate or feminine.
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Opportunity, "I did not expect to find you
two alone at this time of night!"
I could have given her tongue a twitch to cure it of its propensity to
speak evil, but concern for Mary Warren induced me to turn anxiously
toward her. Never did the steady self-possession of perfect innocence
better assert itself than in the dear girl at this rude assault; the
innocence which can leave no latent intention, or wish, to alarm the
feelings.
"We had all retired," answered the pure-minded girl, "and everybody on
my side of the house is in bed and asleep, I believe; but I did not feel
any drowsiness, and was sitting at a window, looking out upon the view
by this lovely moonlight, when I saw you ride out of the woods, and
follow the lane. As you came up to the oak I knew who it was,
Opportunity, and ran down to admit you; for I was certain something
extraordinary must bring you here at this late hour."
"Oh! nothing extraordinary, at all!" cried Miss Opportunity, in a
careless way. "I love moonlight as well as yourself, Mary, and am a
desperate horse-woman, as you know. I thought it would be romantic to
gallop over to the Nest, and go back between one and two in the morning.
Nothing more, I can assure you."
The coolness with which this was said amazed me not a little, though I
was not so silly as to believe a syllable of it. Opportunity had a great
deal of vulgar sentimentalism about her, it is true--such as some girls
are apt to mistake for refinement; but she was not quite so bad as to
travel that lane, at midnight, and alone, without some special object.
It occurred to me that this object might be connected with her brother,
and that she would naturally wish to make her communications privately.
We had all taken seats at a table which occupied the centre of the room,
Mary and myself quite near each other, and Opportunity at a distant
angle. I wrote on a slip of paper a short request for Mary to leave me
alone with our visitor, and laid it under her eyes, without exciting
Opportunity's suspicion; talking to her, the whole time, about the
night, and the weather, and her ride. While we were thus engaged, Miss
Warren rose, and quietly glided out of the room. So silently was this
done, that I do not believe my remaining companion was conscious of it
at the moment.
"You have driven Mary Warren away, Miss Opportunity," I remarked, "by
the hint about our being alone together."
"Lord! there's no great harm in that! I am used to being alone with
gentlemen, and think nothing of it. But, are we really alone, Mr. Hugh,
and quite by ourselves?"
"Quite, as you see. Our two selves and Mary Warren I believe to be the
only persons in the house out of our beds. She has left us, a little
hurt, perhaps, and we are quite alone."
"Oh! As for Mary Warren's feelings, I don't mind them much, Mr. Hugh.
She's a good critter"--yes, this elegant young lady actually used that
extraordinary word--"and as forgiving as religion. Besides, she's only
the Episcopal clergyman's daughter; and, take your family away, that's a
denomination that would not stand long at Ravensnest, I can tell you."
"I am very glad, then, my family is not away, for it is a denomination I
both honor and love. So long as the grasping and innovating spirit of
the times leaves the Littlepages anything, a fair portion of their means
shall be given to support that congregation. As for Miss Warren, I am
pleased to hear that her temperament is so forgiving."
"I know that well, and did not speak in the hope of making any change in
your views, Mr. Hugh. Mary Warren, however, will not think much of my
remark to-morrow; I do not believe she thought half as much about it
to-night as I should have done, had it been made to _me_."
I fancy this was quite true; Mary Warren having listened to the
insinuation as the guileless and innocent hear innuendos that bring no
consciousness with them, while Opportunity's spirit would have been very
apt to buckle on the armor which practice had rendered well-fitting.
"You have not taken this long ride merely to admire the moon, Miss
Opportunity," I now carelessly remarked, willing to bring things to a
head. "If you would favor me with its real object, I should be pleased
to learn it."
"What if Mary should be standing at the keyhole, listening?" said this
elegant "critter," with the suspicion of a vulgar mind. "I wouldn't have
her hear what I've got to tell you, for a mint of money."
"I do not think there is much danger of that," I answered, rising
notwithstanding, and throwing open the door. "You perceive there is no
one here, and we can converse in safety."
Opportunity was not so easily satisfied. Of a gossiping, craving
disposition herself, in all things that pertain to curiosity, it was not
easy for her to imagine another could be less guided by that feeling
than herself. Rising, therefore, she went on tiptoe to the passage, and
examined it for herself. Satisfied, at length, that we were not watched,
she returned to the room, closed the door softly, motioned for me to be
seated, placed herself quite near me, and then appeared disposed to
proceed to business.
"This has been a dreadful day, Mr. Hugh," the young woman now commenced,
actually looking sorrowful, as I make little doubt she really felt. "Who
could have thought that the street-musician was you, and that old German
pedler of watches, Mr. Roger! I declare, the world seems to be getting
upside-down, and folks don't know when they're in their right places!"
"It was a foolish adventure, perhaps; but it has let us into some most
important secrets."
"That's just the difficulty. I defend you all I can, and tell my
brothers that you've not done anything they wouldn't do in a minute, if
only half a farm depended on it, while, in your case, it may be more
than a hundred."
"Your brothers, then, complain of my having appeared among the
anti-renters in disguise?"
"They do, desperately, Mr. Hugh, and seem quite put out about it. They
say it was ungenerous to come in that way into your own country, and
steal their secrets from them! I say all I can in your favor, but words
won't pass for much with men in such a taking. You know, Mr. Hugh, I've
always been your friend, even from our childish days, having got myself
into more than one scrape to get you out of them."
As Opportunity made this declaration, one a little loose as to facts, by
the way, she sighed gently, dropped her eyes, and looked as conscious
and confused as I believe it was at all in her nature to appear. It was
not my cue to betray undue bashfulness at such a moment, and as for any
scruples on the subject of misleading a confiding heart, I should as
soon have thought of feeding an anaconda or a boa constrictor with
angle-worms. I took the young lady's hand, therefore, squeezed it with
as sentimental a pressure as I knew now to use, and looked green enough
about the eyes, I dare say.
"You are only too good, Opportunity," I answered. "Yes, I have ever
relied on you as a friend, and have never doubted you would defend me,
when I was not present to defend myself."
Here I released the hand, a little apprehensive I might have the young
lady sobbing on my shoulder, unless some little moderation were
observed. Opportunity manifested a reluctance to let go her hold, but
what could a young woman do, when the gentleman himself exhibited so
much discretion?
"Yes, Seneky, in particular, is in a dreadful taking," she resumed, "and
to pacify him, I consented to ride over myself, at this time of night,
to let you know what is threatened."
"That is most kind of you, Opportunity; and, as it is so late, had you
not better tell your story at once, and then go to a room and rest
yourself, after so sharp a ride?"
"Tell my tale I will, for it's high time you heard it; but, as for rest,
I must jump on my horse and gallop back the moment the moon sets; sleep
I must in my own bed this night. Of course you and Mary Warren will both
be silent as to my visit, since it has been made for your good."
I promised for myself and Mary, and then pressed my companion to delay
no longer in imparting the information she had ridden so far to bring.
The story was soon told and proved to be sufficiently alarming. One
portion of the facts I got directly from Opportunity herself, while
another has been subsequently gleaned from various sources, all being
certain. The particular circumstances were these:
When Seneca followed the band of "Injins" and his co-anti-renters, in
their precipitate retreat on the hamlet, his revelations produced a
general consternation. It then became known that the young Paris
spendthrift was on his own estate, that he had actually been among the
disaffected that day, had learned many of their secrets, and had
probably made black marks against certain of the tenants, whose leases
were nearly expired. Bad as this was, of itself, it was not the worst of
the matter. Nothing was more certain than the fact that this young
landlord knew a few of those who had committed felony, and might have
sundry highly probable suspicions as to others. The guilty lay at his
mercy, as a matter of course; and there was a sufficiency of common
sense left among these conspirators, to understand that a man, who must
feel that attempts were making to rob him of his estate, would be very
likely to turn the tables on his assailants, did an occasion offer. When
men embark in an undertaking as innately nefarious as that of
anti-rentism certainly is, when it is stripped of its pretentions and
stands in its naked deformity, they are not apt to stop at trifles. To
this desperate character of its mischief, the country owes the general
depression of truth that has accompanied its career, its false and
dangerous principles, its confusion between right and wrong, and finally
its murders. It has been the miserable prerogative of demagogues alone,
to defend its career and its demoralization. Thus has it happened that
the country has seen the same quasi legislators--legislators by the vote
of a party and the courtesy of the country, if by no other
tenure--supporting with an air of high pretension, the very doubtful
policy of attempting to make men moral by statute law, on the one side,
while they go the full length of these property depredators, on the
other! In such a state of society, it is not surprising that any
expedient should be adopted to intimidate and bully me into silence. It
was consequently determined, in a conclave of the chiefs, that a
complaint should be made against my uncle and myself, before an
anti-rent justice of the peace, for felony under the recent statute, in
appearing "disguised and armed," as a means of preventing our complaints
against real offenders. It is true, we were not in masks, but our
disguises, nevertheless, were so effectual as possibly to meet the
contingency contemplated by the law, had we been armed. As to weapons,
however, we had been totally and intentionally without anything of the
sort; but oaths cost villains, like those engaged in this plot, very
little. Those oaths had been taken, and warrants were actually signed by
the magistrate, of which the service was suspended at Seneca's
solicitation, merely to enable the last to effect a compromise. It was
not thought sufficient, however, to menace my uncle and myself with a
prosecution of this nature; intimidation of another sort was to be put
in requisition, to enforce the dread of the legal proceedings; a measure
which should let us see that our assailants were in downright earnest.
Opportunity had ascertained that something serious was to be attempted,
and she believed that very night, though what it was precisely was more
than she knew; or knowing, was willing to communicate.
The object of this late visit, then, was to make terms for her brother,
or brothers; to apprise me of some unknown but pressing danger, and to
obtain all that influence in my breast that might fairly be anticipated
from services so material. Beyond a question, I was fortunate in having
such a friend in the enemy's camp, though past experience had taught me
to be wary how I trusted my miserable and sensitive heart within the
meshes of a net that had been so often cast.
"I am very sensible of the importance of your services, Miss
Opportunity," I said, when the voluble young lady had told her tale,
"and shall not fail to bear it in mind. As for making any direct
arrangement with your brother Seneca, that is out of the question, since
it would be compromising felony, and subject me to punishment; but I can
be passive, if I see fit, and your wishes will have great weight with
me. The attempt to arrest my uncle and myself, should it ever be made,
will only subject its instigators to action for malicious prosecutions,
and gives me no concern. It is very doubtful how far we were disguised,
in the sense of the statute, and it is certain we were not armed, in any
sense. Without perjury therefore, such a prosecution must fail----"
"Folks take desperate oaths in anti-rent times!" interrupted
Opportunity, with a significant look.
"I am quite aware of that. Human testimony, at the best, is very frail,
and often to be distrusted; but in seasons of excitement, and passion,
and cupidity, it is common to find it corrupt. The most material thing,
at present, is to know precisely the nature of the evil they meditate
against us."
Opportunity's eye did not turn away, as mine was fastened on her while
she answered this question, but retained all the steadiness of
sincerity.
"I wish I could tell you, Mr. Hugh," she said; "but I can say no more
than I have. Some injury will be attempted this night, I feel certain;
but what that injury will be, is more than I know myself. I must now go
home; for the moon will be nearly down, and it will never do for me to
be seen by any of the antis. The little I _have_ said in favor of the
Littlepages has made me enemies, as it is; but I never should be
forgiven, was this ride to be known."
Opportunity now rose, and smiling on me, as any other rover might be
supposed to fire a parting broadside, in order to render the
recollection of her presence as memorable as possible, she hurried away.
I accompanied her to the oak, as a matter of course, and assisted her
into her saddle. Sundry little passages of country coquetry occurred
during these movements, and the young lady manifested a reluctance to
depart, even when all was ready, though she was in so great a hurry. Her
game was certainly as desperate as that of the anti-renters themselves,
but it was a game she was determined to play out. The moon was not yet
quite down, and that circumstance served as a pretence for delay, while
I fancied that she might still have something in reserve to communicate.
"This has been so kind in you, dear Opportunity," I said, laying my hand
gently on the one of hers which held the bridle--"so like old times--so
like yourself, indeed--that I scarce know how to thank you. But we shall
live to have old-fashioned times again, when the former communications
can be opened among us. Those were happy days, when we all went
galloping over the hills together; mere boys and girls, it is true, but
delighted boys and girls I hope you will allow."
"That they was"--Opportunity's education and graces did not extend to
good grammar, in her ordinary discourse, which many persons among us
seem to fancy is anti-republican--"That they was! And I should like to
live 'em over again. Never mind, Hugh; you'll live to put down these
people, and then you'll settle and marry. You mean to marry, of course?"
This was a pretty plain demonstration; but I was used to it, as what
young man of fortune is not?--and a danger known is a danger avoided. I
pressed the hand I held gently, relinquished it, and then observed, in a
somewhat disappointed tone----
"Well, I ought not to ask again, what is the particular injury I am to
expect to-night. A brother is nearer than a friend, I know; and I can
appreciate your difficulties."
Opportunity had actually given the spirited beast she rode the rein, and
was on the point of galloping off, when these last words touched her
heart. Leaning forward, and bending her head down, so as to bring our
faces within a foot of each other, she said, in a low voice----
"_Fire_ is a good servant, but a hard master. A teakettle of water
thrown on it, at first, would have put out the last great conflagration
in York."
These words were no sooner uttered than the bold young woman struck her
horse a smart blow, and away she went galloping over the turf with an
almost noiseless hoof. I watched her for a moment, and saw her descend
into the ravine; when, left quite alone, there was abundant opportunity
for reflection, though no longer any Opportunity to look at.
"Fire!"--That _was_ an ominous word. It is the instrument of the low
villain, and is an injury against which it is difficult, indeed, to
guard. It had been used in these anti-rent troubles, though less,
perhaps, than would have been the case in almost any other country; the
institutions of this, even if they have introduced so many false and
exaggerated notions of liberty, having had a most beneficial effect in
lessening some of the other evils of humanity. Still, fire _had_ been
resorted to, and the term of "barn-burner" had got to be common among
us; far more common, I rejoice to say, than the practice which gave it
birth. Nevertheless, it was clearly of the last importance to certain
persons at Ravensnest to frighten me from complaining, since their
crimes could only lead them to the State's prison, were justice done. I
determined, therefore, not to lay my head on a pillow that night, until
assured that the danger was past.
The moon had now set, but the stars shed their twinkling rays on the
dusky landscape. I was not sorry for the change, as it enabled me to
move about with less risk of being seen. The first thing was to seek
some auxiliaries to aid me in watching, and I at once decided to look
for them among my guests, the Indians. If "fire will fight fire,"
"Indian" ought to be a match for "Injin" any day. There is just the
difference between these two classes of men, that their names would
imply. The one is natural, dignified, polished in his way--nay,
gentleman-like; while the other is a sneaking scoundrel, and as vulgar
as his own appellation. No one would think of calling these last
masquerading rogues "Indians;" by common consent, even the most
particular purist in language terms them "Injins." "_Il y a chapeau et
chapeau_," and there are "Indian" and "Injin."
Without returning to the house, I took my way at once toward the
quarters of my red guests. Familiar with every object around me, I kept
so much within the shadows, and moved across the lawn and fields by a
route so hidden, that there was not much risk of my being seen, even had
there been enemies on the lookout. The distance was not great, and I
soon stood at the foot of the little knoll on which the old farm-house
stood, sheltered in a manner by a dark row of aged currants, which lined
the bottom of an old and half-deserted garden. Here I paused to look
about me, and to reflect a moment, before I proceeded any further.
There stood the good old substantial residence of my fathers, in shadowy
outline, looming large and massive in its form and aspect. It might be
fired, certainly, but not with much facility, on its exterior. With the
exception of its roof, its piazza, and its outside doors, little wood
was exposed to an incendiary without; and a slight degree of
watchfulness might suffice against such a danger. Then the law punished
arson of an inhabited dwelling with death, as it should do, and your
sneaking scoundrels seldom brave such a penalty in this country. Much is
said about the impotency of the punishment of the gallows, but no man
can tell how many thousand times it has stayed the hand and caused the
heart to quail. Until some one can appear among us, who is able to
reveal this important secret, it is idle to talk about the few cases in
which it is known that the risk of death has been insufficient to
prevent crime. One thing we all know; other punishments exist, and crime
is perpetrated directly in _their_ face, daily and hourly; and I cannot
see why such a circumstance should not be just as much of an argument
against the punishment of the penitentiary, as against punishment by the
gallows. For one, I am clearly for keeping in existence the knowledge
that there is a power in the country, potent to sweep away the offender,
when cases of sufficient gravity occur to render the warning wholesome.