The second day after this meeting we were at breakfast, sitting somewhat
stiffly at the table, when my boy Sam, whom Mary had just sent over to
Harrison's to find out how he did, brought a note in answer, saying that
he had almost entirely recovered and hoped to have the pleasure of
meeting her that morning. Barron and Will were still staying at the Hall
and we had all been somewhat reserved in manner in spite of the old
Captain's jests. Although there had been no serious outcome to the
affair, a meeting of that kind, no matter how common the occurrence,
always makes women a little distant and cold in manner to the parties
concerned. This is possibly because a woman is somewhat more civilized
than man, and anything that savors of brutality or fierceness, always is
more revolting to her than to the less artificial being.
I have said the occurrence of such affairs was common enough in the old
days, before the practice of putting grooves in pistols and making them
as accurate as rifles to a steady hand, became general. After that men
became more careful about abusing the code and getting into scrapes, for
the pistol has always been recognized as a weapon for gentlemen in
Virginia. But I must confess, however, that meetings have always been
numerous enough, and for the most trivial causes, on the soil of the
grand old commonwealth.
After Mary had read the note from Harrison she became much more civil
to Barron, and even my mother's stern dignity thawed a little under the
prospect of a renewal of social intercourse with the master of the
Harrison plantation.
Mary was only nineteen, and although southern girls are women of that
age, she possessed a great deal of that childlike simplicity, which is,
or is not, so acceptable to the majority of men. For my part, however, I
have always been ungallant enough to believe that a woman affects much.
Will had been devotion itself for two years past at Judkins' Hall, for
he lived only a few miles away near his family's old country seat at
Westover, and consequently found it quite easy to see the inmates of
the Hall several times a week even when living at home. He was my
favorite cousin, and it was almost painful to see his spirits as much
affected by my sister's as a barometer is by the weather.
"Why don't you say something," she said to him, after reading the note
and watching the quiet, grave look on his face.
"What shall I say?" he answered, smiling with her, "I'm here to talk to
you." And in truth he did appear to be always around for that purpose,
but never able to raise his voice to the occasion.
"I don't know whether you are or not. I've been reading about a man who
carried on an affair simply by whistling. But even that would hardly
apply to you after taking part in that duel. You certainly would hardly
care even to whistle to me, or you would not have gone with them.
Perhaps you are here to eat and fight."
"You invited me to breakfast."
"Yes, but that does not presuppose you are too hungry to speak. Perhaps
you think I asked you here to see you fight, and then satisfy your
hunger. You don't know why I asked you here. If you are here to talk to
me, do say something. Why did I ask you here to breakfast?"
"Words are sometimes used to convey ideas," I suggested, trying to help
Will along, for I well knew how little women care for a man who can't
say something light and foolish at the right time.
"Or to conceal them," said Barron, breaking in with his old saw.
"But where the ideas are vague and not quite well defined, what then?"
asked Mary, with a knowing look at her mother.
"Then I don't see how they can be of any value, whatever, and I don't
see how I'll ever find out the true reason for my being here, though I'd
much like to know," said Will.
"Quite right, Will," said my mother smiling, "I don't care for vague
ideas either--or to hear a man and woman in worthless gibble-gabble,
gibble-gabble. If there is a dearth of ideas, one reason is as good as
another."
"I admire silence, also," laughed Barron, "for there is an old saying
in regard to its value. But at the same time, give me plenty of plans,
schemes and feasibilities."
"I like the latter well enough myself," said Will, so dolefully that we
all were forced to smile, and my charming sister laughed outright,
saying--
"Certainly Captain Barrow's conversation is not lacking of ideas, but
then he is a blunt man, and plain, so it is hardly to be expected that
he should conceal such scintillating wit"--
"Blunt man,--and soldier, if you please," interrupted Barron, with
intense gravity, seeing his chance to heal the rupture between himself
and Mary.
"I may add, 'and soldier,' when I see some evidence to justify it,"
retorted my sister with a little energy. But Barron only laughed and we
finally adjourned to the verandah in a more civil mood than when we sat
down to breakfast.
The air is delightful on the river at this time of year of which I
speak, and, as you probably well know, has a soothing effect on the
nerves, for it is not at all cool, nor is it hot enough to excite the
circulation.
We sat there in the delicious, fragrant breeze for some minutes before
we were aware of the approach of Berkley Harrison, Phripps and Miss Rose
Carter, a cousin of Harrison's.
Miss Carter had come over with her maid to nurse her cousin the moment
she had heard that he was hurt, and as Harrison lived alone, except
when some one like Phripps was with him, a woman would have been a good
person to have had at hand, had he been injured badly, or had my mother
and sister not spent most of their time attending to his wants.
I suppose I might as well say, before going further, that although I am
only a poor Virginia gentleman who has nothing but his--well, estate and
inheritance--I had some hope of raising myself to a position from which
I might allow my gentler passions to have some sway.
You will understand what I mean when I tell you that for beauty of face
and figure, coupled with a grace beyond description, Miss Carter
was--well, I will not tire you with details that are so well known. And
then, again, a woman's beauty depends entirely upon her attractiveness
to a man, and some men will see beauty in one way and some in another;
never all alike. Why, I have seen the niggers in the slave quarters let
Harrison's house servant, Angeline,--a yellow girl of remarkable
beauty,--pass by unnoticed and then, ten minutes later, be peeping and
spying at the blackest moke wench that ever left the Guinea coast.
Harrison's greeting, this morning, was a trifle cool to Barron and
myself, and his appearance was not improved by the sinister look of his
shining black eyes. These were somewhat sunken in his pale cheeks and
had dark crescents beneath them. His head was bandaged, but a skull cap
covered all signs of his wound. To Will Byrd and my sister he was most
gracious, and he even bent his wounded head to kiss the tips of my
mother's thin fingers.
"You see," he said, after Miss Carter and Phripps had made their
greeting, "I took the opportunity to come over to tell you that Lord
Dunmore has sent word that he fears great trouble in the tide-water
districts, and that all the gentlemen of the province were making ready
to embark on his vessels and leave with their families until the
insurrection is more in hand."
"And when will that be?" asked my mother in some alarm.
"Oh, only a few weeks, at the most," said Phripps, breaking into the
conversation.
"Yes, about that time," continued Harrison, "but you know how fanatical
such men as Bullet and Bullbeggor are. It's really absurd how much
influence that beggar, Patrick Henry, has over such ignorant men. The
man has about as much logic in his discourse as a nigger has in his, but
he sways his followers any way he wishes, and is gaining recruits every
day. I suppose you know how illiterate the fellow is?"
"And how rough and ill-bred," said Miss Carter.
"An ill-favored rogue and no mistake," said Phripps.
"Odious men--vulgar ruffians, all of them," said Miss Carter and Mary
together.
"So you say!" murmured Barron, pleasantly.
"And their followers are a pack of unhung thieves," added Harrison
fiercely. "No house is safe while they roam the outlying counties"----
"Mercy!" quietly interrupted my mother, who felt very kindly toward the
revolutionists, "One would actually suppose, Mr. Harrison, that you were
quite unfriendly with the whole party."
And when she finished speaking I could see Harrison's eyes fairly blaze
with anger. He was very quiet, however, for some moments, and then
adding that it would be well to be packed and ready to embark with Lord
Dunmore when he arrived, he turned to my sister and talked of other
matters.
Barron waxed flippant and jolly while talking to Phripps, so when
everybody was in good humor I took the opportunity to ask Miss Carter to
help me hunt thistles--for my mother.
We walked some distance through the fields, and found few thistles, but
among other matters discussed were certain characteristics of Mr.
Berkley Harrison.
"The most accomplished and perfect gentleman in the province," said
Rose.
"But, my dear Rose, he is so uncommon vain"--
"By which, I suppose, you mean simply that he has a decent opinion of
himself, owing to his birth and position," she interrupted. "A man who
hasn't a proper opinion of himself, seldom has one of any of his friends
or acquaintances."
"Quite true," I answered, "but"--
"Do you really object to him so much?" she broke in. And as she smiled
and blushed slightly I followed the direction of her look and saw Mary
and Harrison standing together at the corner of the box-hedge of the
driveway.
"You could hardly expect a gentleman of cousin Berk's antecedents to
agree with the absurd ideas of government you pretend to," she
continued.
"The matter is possibly open to discussion," I answered a little
stiffly.
"Oh, no offence, my dear Dick. You know the laws of human nature as
well as I do. Those who are governed and have little are always
antagonistic to those who govern and have much, no matter how perfect
that government is."
"Yes, I know," I answered, "there is no such thing as justice in this
world. Even the Bible, most holy of records, disclaims it, saying, that
those who have little shall have that little taken from them and given
to those who have much. At least that is what I make of it, but even if
there should be a small minority to govern and grind a large majority,
the majority should have its representatives to see that no unjust"--
"Nonsense!" she interrupted, "Those who represented it would soon
acquire the same habits and tendency as the minority, without even the
leavening of high birth and education the minority already have. There
are some people born with high ideas who are intended by Providence to
govern always. They are superior in feeling--but hush! What is cousin
Berk doing?"
We were now close to where Harrison and Mary were standing, and I
noticed that he peered cautiously over the hedge at some object that lay
on the other side in the sunshine. We turned the angle of the drive way
and as we did so I saw my boy, Sam, lying at full length upon the grass,
looking quietly up into Harrison's face with an expression of curious
interest showing upon his black features.
"Are you busy, Sam?" asked Harrison softly, not noticing my approach.
"Yessah," replied Sam without moving.
"Eh! What?" and I saw him grasp his cane firmly in his hand behind his
back.
"Yessah," continued Sam, "I'se been lying here fo' quite a spell, sah,
listenin' to my heart beatin'."
"So, so," said Harrison quietly, measuring his distance. Then he flashed
out--"You infernal, impudent nigger!" And he smote Sam a crack over the
head that brought him to his feet with a wicked look in his eyes.
"Superior feeling!" I muttered angrily, and I saw Miss Carter blush.
Then stepping further out into view I caught Sam's eye in time to avert
further trouble, for he had never been handled before by anyone--except,
perhaps, myself.
"Go to the quarters, Sam," I cried, and as I did so I saw Harrison start
at the sound of my voice and notice me.
I would have given something to have seen what Sam intended to do after
that look,--for he was a big, black, powerful, hog-nosed nigger, capable
of some little mischief--but the ladies being present, such intentions
were, of course, impossible. Sam obeyed me instantly and went quickly
toward the stables with his broad shoulders well squared and his head
up, and Harrison continued on his way with my charming sister upon his
arm.
"I suppose," I said, looking askance at Miss Carter, "this is the
superior feeling of the governing class which we have just witnessed?"
"What would that black boy have done?" she said, in alarm. "I saw the
look in his eyes that certainly meant more than disobedience."
"Oh, Sam is a true and trained Christian," I answered, somewhat nettled
at the scene. "I taught him the doctrine of forbearance myself and I
have seen him practice it to some advantage."
"And what was that?" asked Rose, sweetly, looking up at me with her
lovely violet eyes that still showed traces of her alarm.
"Well, the last overseer I had was a man of superior feeling who
belonged to the governing class--and he started to govern accordingly.
He smote Sam savagely upon the side of his bullet head, one day, and
knocked him down. Sam jumped up and rose to his full height, offering
the other side of his head without so much as a word. The fellow, John
Smith, struck him again, like a fool, and stretched Sam senseless for
half an hour."
"And then?"
"Oh, then Sam came to, and as soon as he could stand, he drew his corn
knife and it was all we could do to keep him from killing that overseer.
As it was, he got so badly cut that he would never come back again to
the Hall."
I saw Miss Carter pale slightly.
"Are many of your people so brutal and blood-thirsty?" she asked.
"Sam is neither one nor the other, but as good a boy as ever followed a
gentleman"--
"For revenge, do you mean? If that is so, I think the sooner I tell
Berk--Mr. Harrison, the better."
"Oh, Lord, no," I cried, "I mean as a servant. Even Major Bullbeggor
allows him the privilege of serving him, and you know how particular he
is. But why so anxious about Berk Harrison's welfare?"
"I am his cousin," answered Miss Carter, stiffly.
The tone of her voice was enough. But Heavens! A man must take his
strokes, mental or physical, without too much wincing. As for me, I
like the man who can meet them with a smile on his lips and talk in a
steady, natural voice while his heart stops beating and the iron grip of
sorrow holds his throat like a vice. The tone of Rose Carter's voice,
that day, told me something in regard to cousinly feeling. But no
matter. Our greatest sorrows are not nearly so heavy some years
afterwards and--
As I said, I felt a sensation, similar I now believe, to that which a
few others have felt before. But a man in love is never a
philosopher--and he is generally hasty and selfish.
"I congratulate you, my dear Rose, on your relationship," I said
coldly, and the blood rushed through her face and left it whiter than
before.
"Do you know, my dear Dick, you sometimes bore me most stupidly?" she
answered. And this commonplace incident ended.
Commonplace it was indeed, but what it meant to certain affairs which
happened afterward, you may judge, if you care to listen. It is the
little commonplace affairs that influence the lives of most people, as
anyone may remember who cares to look at the past.