This fairy form contains a soul as mighty,
As that which lives within a giant's frame;
These slender limbs, that tremble like the aspen
At summer evening's sigh, uphold a spirit,
Which, roused, can tower to the height of heaven,
And light those shining windows of the face
With much of heaven's own radiance.
--Duo.
The number and character of her guests had greatly added to the cares of
Miss Jeanette Peyton. The morning found them all restored, in some
measure, to their former ease of body, with the exception of the
youthful captain of dragoons, who had been so deeply regretted by
Dunwoodie. The wound of this officer was severe, though the surgeon
persevered in saying that it was without danger. His comrade, we have
shown, had deserted his couch; and Henry Wharton awoke from a sleep that
had been undisturbed by anything but a dream of suffering amputation
under the hands of a surgical novice. As it proved, however, to be
nothing but a dream, the youth found himself much refreshed by his
slumbers; and Dr. Sitgreaves removed all further apprehensions by
confidently pronouncing that he would be a well man within a fortnight.
During all this time Colonel Wellmere did not make his appearance; he
breakfasted in his own room, and, notwithstanding certain significant
smiles of the man of science, declared himself too much injured to rise
from his bed. Leaving him, therefore, endeavoring to conceal his chagrin
in the solitude of his chamber, the surgeon proceeded to the more
grateful task of sitting an hour by the bedside of George Singleton. A
slight flush was on the face of the patient as the doctor entered the
room, and the latter advanced promptly and laid his fingers on the pulse
of the youth, beckoning to him to be silent, while he muttered,--
"Growing symptoms of a febrile pulse--no, no, my dear George, you must
remain quiet and dumb; though your eyes look better, and your skin has
even a moisture."
"Nay, my dear Sitgreaves," said the youth, taking his hand, "you see
there is no fever about me; look, is there any of Jack Lawton's
hoarfrost on my tongue?"
"No, indeed," said the surgeon, clapping a spoon in the mouth of the
other, forcing it open, and looking down his throat as if disposed to
visit the interior in person. "The tongue is well, and the pulse begins
to lower again. Ah! the bleeding did you good. Phlebotomy is a sovereign
specific for southern constitutions. But that madcap Lawton absolutely
refused to be blooded for a fall he had from his horse last night. Why,
George, your case is becoming singular," continued the doctor,
instinctively throwing aside his wig. "Your pulse even and soft, your
skin moist, but your eye fiery, and cheek flushed. Oh! I must examine
more closely into these symptoms."
"Softly, my good friend, softly," said the youth, falling back on his
pillow, and losing some of that color which alarmed his companion. "I
believe, in extracting the ball, you did for me all that is required. I
am free from pain and only weak, I do assure you."
"Captain Singleton," said the surgeon, with heat, "it is presumptuous in
you to pretend to tell your medical attendant when you are free from
pain. If it be not to enable us to decide in such matters, of what avail
the lights of science? For shame, George, for shame! Even that perverse
fellow, John Lawton, could not behave with more obstinacy."
His patient smiled, as he gently repulsed his physician in an attempt to
undo the bandages, and with a returning glow to his cheeks, inquired,--
"Do, Archibald,"--a term of endearment that seldom failed to soften the
operator's heart,--"tell me what spirit from heaven has been gliding
around my apartment, while I lay pretending to sleep?"
"If anyone interferes with my patients," cried the doctor, hastily, "I
will teach them, spirit or no spirit, what it is to meddle with another
man's concerns."
"Tut--my dear fellow, there was no interference made, nor any intended.
See," exhibiting the bandages, "everything is as you left it,--but it
glided about the room with the grace of a fairy and the tenderness of
an angel."
The surgeon, having satisfied himself that everything was as he had left
it, very deliberately resumed his seat and replaced his wig, as he
inquired, with a brevity that would have honored Lieutenant Mason,--
"Had it petticoats, George?"
"I saw nothing but its heavenly eyes--its bloom--its majestic step--its
grace," replied the young man, with rather more ardor than his surgeon
thought consistent with his debilitated condition; and he laid his hand
on his mouth to stop him, saying himself,--
"It must have been Miss Jeanette Peyton--a lady of fine accomplishments,
with--hem--with something of the kind of step you speak of--a very
complacent eye; and as to the bloom, I dare say offices of charity can
summon as fine a color to her cheeks, as glows in the faces of her more
youthful nieces."
"Nieces? Has she nieces, then? The angel I saw may be a daughter, a
sister, or a niece,--but never an aunt."
"Hush, George, hush; your talking has brought your pulse up again. You
must observe quiet, and prepare for a meeting with your own sister, who
will be here within an hour."
"What, Isabella! And who sent for her?"
"The major."
"Considerate Dunwoodie!" murmured the exhausted youth, sinking again on
his pillow, where the commands of his attendant compelled him to
remain silent.
Even Captain Lawton had been received with many and courteous inquiries
after the state of his health, from all the members of the family, when
he made his morning entrance; but an invisible spirit presided over the
comforts of the English colonel. Sarah had shrunk with consciousness
from entering the room; yet she knew the position of every glass, and
had, with her own hands, supplied the contents of every bowl, that stood
on his table.
At the time of our tale, we were a divided people, and Sarah thought it
was no more than her duty to cherish the institutions of that country to
which she yet clung as the land of her forefathers; but there were other
and more cogent reasons for the silent preference she was giving to the
Englishman. His image had first filled the void in her youthful fancy,
and it was an image that was distinguished by many of those attractions
that can enchain a female heart. It is true, he wanted the personal
excellence of Peyton Dunwoodie, but his pretensions were far from
contemptible. Sarah had moved about the house during the morning,
casting frequent and longing glances at the door of Wellmere's
apartment, anxious to learn the condition of his wounds, and yet ashamed
to inquire; conscious interest kept her tongue tied, until her sister,
with the frankness of innocence, had put the desired question to Dr.
Sitgreaves.
"Colonel Wellmere," said the operator, gravely, "is in what I call a
state of free will, madam. He is ill, or he is well, as he pleases. His
case, young lady, exceeds my art to heal; and I take it Sir Henry
Clinton is the best adviser he can apply to; though Major Dunwoodie has
made the communication with his leech rather difficult."
Frances smiled, but averted her face, while Sarah moved, with the grace
of an offended Juno, from the apartment. Her own room, however, afforded
her but little relief, and in passing through the long gallery that
communicated with each of the chambers of the building, she noticed the
door of Singleton's room to be open. The wounded youth seemed sleeping,
and was alone. She had ventured lightly into the apartment, and busied
herself for a few minutes in arranging the tables, and the nourishment
provided for the patient, hardly conscious of what she was doing, and
possibly dreaming that these little feminine offices were performed for
another. Her natural bloom was heightened by the insinuation of the
surgeon, nor was the luster of her eye in any degree diminished. The
sound of the approaching footsteps of Sitgreaves hastened her retreat
down a private stairway, to the side of her sister. The sisters then
sought the fresh air on the piazza; and as they pursued their walk, arm
in arm, the following dialogue took place:--
"There is something disagreeable about this surgeon of Dunwoodie," said
Sarah, "that causes me to wish him away most heartily."
Frances fixed her laughing eyes on her sister; but forbearing to speak,
the other readily construed their expression, and hastily added, "But I
forget he is one of your renowned corps of Virginians, and must be
spoken of reverently."
"As respectfully as you please, my dear sister; there is but little
danger of exceeding the truth."
"Not in your opinion," said the elder, with a little warmth. "But I
think Mr. Dunwoodie has taken a liberty that exceeds the rights of
consanguinity; he has made our father's house a hospital."
"We ought to be grateful that none of the patients it contains are
dearer to us."
"Your brother is one."
"True, true," interrupted Frances, blushing to the eyes; "but he leaves
his room, and thinks his wound lightly purchased by the pleasure of
being with his friends. If," she added, with a tremulous lip, "this
dreadful suspicion that is affixed to his visit were removed, I could
consider his wound of little moment."
"You now have the fruits of rebellion brought home to you; a brother
wounded and a prisoner, and perhaps a victim; your father distressed,
his privacy interrupted, and not improbably his estates torn from him,
on account of his loyalty to his king."
Frances continued her walk in silence. While facing the northern
entrance to the vale, her eyes were uniformly fastened on the point
where the road was suddenly lost by the intervention of a hill; and at
each turn, as she lost sight of the spot, she lingered until an
impatient movement of her sister quickened her pace to an even motion
with that of her own. At length, a single horse chaise was seen making
its way carefully among the stones which lay scattered over the country
road that wound through the valley, and approached the cottage. The
color of Frances changed as the vehicle gradually drew nearer; and when
she was enabled to see a female form in it by the side of a black in
livery, her limbs shook with an agitation that compelled her to lean on
Sarah for support. In a few minutes the travelers approached the gate.
It was thrown open by a dragoon who followed the carriage, and who had
been the messenger dispatched by Dunwoodie to the father of Captain
Singleton. Miss Peyton advanced to receive their guest, and the sisters
united in giving her the kindest welcome; still Frances could with
difficulty withdraw her truant eyes from the countenance of their
visitor. She was young, and of a light and fragile form, but of
exquisite proportions. Her eyes were large, full, black, piercing, and
at times a little wild. Her hair was luxuriant, and as it was without
the powder it was then the fashion to wear, it fell in raven blackness.
A few of its locks had fallen on her cheek, giving its chilling
whiteness by the contrast a more deadly character. Dr. Sitgreaves
supported her from the chaise; and when she gained the floor of the
piazza, she turned an expressive look on the face of the practitioner.
"Your brother is out of danger and wishes to see you, Miss Singleton,"
said the surgeon.
The lady burst into a flood of tears. Frances had stood contemplating
the action and face of Isabella with a kind of uneasy admiration, but
she now sprang to her side with the ardor of a sister, and kindly
drawing her arm within her own, led the way to a retired room. The
movement was so ingenuous, so considerate, and so delicate, that even
Miss Peyton withheld her interference, following the youthful pair with
only her eyes and a smile of complacency. The feeling was communicated
to all the spectators, and they dispersed in pursuit of their usual
avocations. Isabella yielded to the gentle influence of Frances without
resistance; and, having gained the room where the latter conducted her,
wept in silence on the shoulder of the observant and soothing girl,
until Frances thought her tears exceeded the emotion natural to the
occasion. The sobs of Miss Singleton for a time were violent and
uncontrollable, until, with an evident exertion, she yielded to a kind
observation of her companion, and succeeded in suppressing her tears.
Raising her face to the eyes of Frances, she rose, while a smile of
beautiful radiance passed over her features; and making a hasty apology
for the excess of her emotion, she desired to be conducted to the room
of the invalid.
The meeting between the brother and sister was warm, but, by an effort
on the part of the lady, more composed than her previous agitation had
given reason to expect. Isabella found her brother looking better, and
in less danger than her sensitive imagination had led her to suppose.
Her spirits rose in proportion; from despondency, she passed to
something like gayety; her beautiful eyes sparkled with renovated
brilliancy; and her face was lighted with smiles so fascinating, that
Frances, who, in compliance with her earnest entreaties, had accompanied
her to the sick chamber, sat gazing on a countenance that possessed so
wonderful variability, impelled by a charm that was beyond her control.
The youth had thrown an earnest look at Frances, as soon as his sister
raised herself from his arms, and perhaps it was the first glance at the
lovely lineaments of our heroine, when the gazer turned his eyes from
the view in disappointment. He seemed bewildered, rubbed his forehead
like a man awaking from a dream, and mused.
"Where is Dunwoodie, Isabella?" he said. "The excellent fellow is never
weary of kind actions. After a day of such service as that of yesterday,
he has spent the night in bringing me a nurse, whose presence alone is
able to raise me from my couch."
The expression of the lady's countenance changed; her eye roved around
the apartment with a character of wildness in it that repelled the
anxious Frances, who studied her movements with unabated interest.
"Dunwoodie! Is he then not here? I thought to have met him by the side
of my brother's bed."
"He has duties that require his presence elsewhere; the English are said
to be out by the way of the Hudson, and they give us light troops but
little rest. Surely nothing else could have kept him so long from a
wounded friend. But, Isabella, the meeting has been too much for you;
you tremble."
Isabella made no reply; she stretched her hand towards the table which
held the nourishment of the captain, and the attentive Frances
comprehended her wishes in a moment. A glass of water in some measure
revived the sister, who was enabled to say,--
"Doubtless it is his duty. 'Twas said above, a royal party was moving on
the river; though I passed the troops but two miles from this spot." The
latter part of the sentence was hardly audible, and it was spoken more
in the manner of a soliloquy, than as if for the ears of her companions.
"On the march, Isabella?" eagerly inquired her brother.
"No, dismounted, and seemingly at rest," was the reply.
The wondering dragoon turned his gaze on the countenance of his sister,
who sat with her eye bent on the carpet in unconscious absence, but
found no explanation. His look was changed to the face of Frances, who,
startled by the earnestness of his expression, arose, and hastily
inquired if he would have any assistance.
"If you can pardon the rudeness," said the wounded officer, making a
feeble effort to raise his body, "I would request to have Captain
Lawton's company for a moment."
Frances hastened instantly to communicate his wish to that gentleman,
and impelled by an interest she could not control, she returned again to
her seat by the side of Miss Singleton.
"Lawton," said the youth, impatiently, as the trooper entered, "hear you
from the major?"
The eye of the sister was now bent on the face of the trooper, who made
his salutations to the lady with ease, blended with the frankness of
a soldier.
"His man has been here twice," he said, "to inquire how we fared in the
lazaretto."
"And why not himself?"
"That is a question the major can answer best; but you know the redcoats
are abroad, and Dunwoodie commands in the county; these English must be
looked to."
"True," said Singleton, slowly, as if struck with the other's reasons.
"But how is it that you are idle, when there is work to do?"
"My sword arm is not in the best condition, and Roanoke has but a
shambling gait this morning; besides, there is another reason I could
mention, if it were not that Miss Wharton would never forgive me."
"Speak, I beg, without dread of my displeasure," said Frances, returning
the good-humored smile of the trooper, with the archness natural to her
own sweet face.
"The odors of your kitchen, then," cried Lawton bluntly, "forbid my
quitting the domains, until I qualify myself to speak with more
certainty concerning the fatness of the land."
"Oh! Aunt Jeanette is exerting herself to do credit to my father's
hospitality," said the laughing girl, "and I am a truant from her
labors, as I shall be a stranger to her favor, unless I proffer my
assistance."
Frances withdrew to seek her aunt, musing deeply on the character and
extreme sensibility of the new acquaintance chance had brought to
the cottage.
The wounded officer followed her with his eyes, as she moved, with
infantile grace, through the door of his apartment, and as she vanished
from his view, he observed,--
"Such an aunt and niece are seldom to be met with, Jack; this seems a
fairy, but the aunt is angelic."
"You are doing well, I see; your enthusiasm for the sex holds its own."
"I should be ungrateful as well as insensible, did I not bear testimony
to the loveliness of Miss Peyton."
"A good motherly lady, but as to love, that is a matter of taste. A few
years younger, with deference to her prudence and experience, would
accord better with my fancy."
"She must be under twenty," said the other, quickly.
"It depends on the way you count. If you begin at the heel of life,
well; but if you reckon downward, as is most common, I think she is
nearer forty."
"You have mistaken an elder sister for the aunt," said Isabella, laying
her fair hand on the mouth of the invalid. "You must be silent! Your
feelings are beginning to affect your frame."
The entrance of Dr. Sitgreaves, who, in some alarm, noticed the increase
of feverish symptoms in his patient, enforced this mandate; and the
trooper withdrew to pay a visit of condolence to Roanoke, who had been
an equal sufferer with himself in their last night's somersault. To his
great joy, his man pronounced the steed to be equally convalescent with
the master; and Lawton found that by dint of rubbing the animal's limbs
several hours without ceasing, he was enabled to place his feet in what
he called systematic motion. Orders were accordingly given to be in
readiness to rejoin the troop at the Four Corners, as soon as his master
had shared in the bounty of the approaching banquet.
In the meantime, Henry Wharton entered the apartment of Wellmere, and by
his sympathy succeeded in restoring the colonel to his own good graces.
The latter was consequently enabled to rise, and prepared to meet a
rival of whom he had spoken so lightly, and, as the result had proved,
with so little reason. Wharton knew that their misfortune, as they both
termed their defeat, was owing to the other's rashness; but he forbore
to speak of anything except the unfortunate accident which had deprived
the English of their leader, and to which he good-naturedly ascribed
their subsequent discomfiture.
"In short, Wharton," said the colonel, putting one leg out of bed, "it
may be called a combination of untoward events; your own ungovernable
horse prevented my orders from being carried to the major, in season to
flank the rebels."
"Very true," replied the captain, kicking a slipper towards the bed.
"Had we succeeded in getting a few good fires upon them in flank, we
should have sent these brave Virginians to the right about."
"Aye, and that in double-quick time," cried the colonel, making the
other leg follow its companion. "Then it was necessary to rout the
guides, you know, and the movement gave them the best possible
opportunity to charge."
"Yes," said the other, sending the second slipper after the first, "and
this Major Dunwoodie never overlooks an advantage."
"I think if we had the thing to do over again," continued the colonel,
raising himself on his feet, "we might alter the case very materially,
though the chief thing the rebels have now to boast of is my capture;
they were repulsed, you saw, in their attempt to drive us from
the wood."
"At least they would have been, had they made an attack," said the
captain, throwing the rest of his clothes within reach of the colonel.
"Why, that is the same thing," returned Wellmere, beginning to dress
himself. "To assume such an attitude as to intimidate your enemy, is the
chief art of war."
"Doubtless, then, you may remember in one of their charges they were
completely routed."
"True--true," cried the colonel, with animation. "Had I been there to
have improved that advantage, we might have turned the table on the
Yankees"; saying which he displayed still greater animation in
completing his toilet; and he was soon prepared to make his appearance,
fully restored to his own good opinion, and fairly persuaded that his
capture was owing to casualties absolutely beyond the control of man.
The knowledge that Colonel Wellmere was to be a guest at the table in no
degree diminished the preparations which were already making for the
banquet; and Sarah, after receiving the compliments of the gentleman,
and making many kind inquiries after the state of his wounds, proceeded
in person to lend her counsel and taste to one of those labored
entertainments, which, at that day, were so frequent in country life,
and which are not entirely banished from our domestic economy at the
present moment.