ARAB
Oh! spirits gay and kindly heart,
Precious the blessings ye impart. —Joanna Baillie.
There’s little of the melancholy element in her, my lord:
for she is never sad, but when she sleeps;
and not over sad then; for I have heard my daughter say
she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself
with laughing. —Shakespeare.
It would be difficult to explain the cause of Kate’s flutter of
spirits at this visit. Certainly, she could not have analyzed her own
feelings, even if she had tried. Her agitation both surprised and
annoyed her. Never before had she been thus affected on any similar
occasion, and she mentally pronounced it a bit of weakness unworthy of
her.
It is true that Major Gordon had occupied no inconsiderable portion of
her thoughts during the last fortnight. Nor is this surprising. His
almost exclusive agency in the rescue of herself and aunt could not be
concealed from her, in spite of the modesty on his part which would have
represented it as a deed equally shared by many others. Indeed, the
deportment of Major Gordon in reference to the affair, heightened the
estimate which Kate had been predisposed to form of him. Though the
words he had exchanged with our heroine had been few, she still seemed
to hear the mellow tones of his rich, manly voice. Not that Kate was
what is called a romantic girl. She was very far from supposing that,
because a handsome young officer had been instrumental in saving her
life, she must fall in love with him, irrespective of other and higher
claims to her notice. Imaginative as she was, she had too much strong
sense to be so weak. She had often detected herself speculating at the
causes which kept Major Gordon from visiting them, as he had been
formally solicited to do by her aunt, and by herself more reservedly,
though not less earnestly; but she had not felt it as a personal slight,
like an ordinary heroine of romance would have been expected to do,
under similar circumstances.
The emotion of Kate, from whatever cause it sprung, was but temporary.
Before the door was fairly opened, much less before she was called on to
return Major Gordon’s bow, she had schooled her face and manner into
that high-bred ease, which, in combination with the natural force of her
character, made her so bewitching as a woman.
Major Gordon, attired carefully in the full uniform of his rank, had a
striking personal appearance. He looked every inch a gentleman, even as
gentlemen were in those, their palmy days. Bowing gracefully, with a
calm, self-collected air, first to Mrs. Warren and then to Kate, he took
the seat offered to him by the servant, and glided gracefully into
conversation.
“We have been expecting you before, Major,” said Mrs. Warren.
“Especially since we heard you were stationed at the Forks, which is
so nigh to Sweetwater.”
“I have been delayed by important public business,” was the answer.
“The powder, for which I was on the lookout, having arrived, I had
personally to see to its safety and subsequent transmission to
head-quarters. I made daily inquiries after your health and that of Miss
Aylesford, however,” he continued, “and had the pleasure of hearing
that you were slowly but surely recovering from your fatigues.”
“We have been told,” said Mrs. Warren, still taking the lead in the
conversation, “that you have been appointed to the command at the
Forks, which has been created a military post.”
“It is so. There is so much valuable merchandize there, that it has
been thought best to station a few soldiers at the place. Allow me,
ladies,” he politely continued, “to tender you their protection,
though I trust no occasion may arise for claiming it.”
“And you really will assist,” said Kate, archly, “such horrible
tories as ourselves.”
“Not such inveterate ones, I hope,” answered Major Gordon, in the
same gay spirit, “as you would have me suppose. Had that been so, you
would not have remained at Sweetwater, but have gone to New York; for
General Washington is always ready to give ladies a pass, especially
frightened ones.”
“Oh! I could never think of deserting Sweetwater, my beautiful
Sweetwater, which I have not seen for so many years.”
As she spoke, she involuntarily glanced out of the window, in the
direction of the church. The Major followed her eyes.
“I do not wonder at your love for it,” he said, with undisguised
admiration. “It is certainly the most charming spot in all West
Jersey. You live here,” he added, “like a queen; for England, in all
her breadth, has not a park as boundless as those vast woods: I am told
the tract embraces a hundred thousand acres.”
“All which,” continued Kate, in the same gay tone, “makes me
seriously think of turning whig; for if your General Washington wins at
last, some greedy patriot might have my estate confiscated. Aunt is to
remain a tory, red-hot for King George, tea and stamp-duties, so that,
if you rebels—that’s the word for her, you know—get the
ascendency, she can keep the property for me in her name. I believe it
was in some such fashion—wasn’t it?— that the rebels in Mother
England used to keep the lands in a family. Isn’t his grace of
Hamilton only a younger branch of the exiled peer!”
Mrs. Warren, who could never understand a jest, had vainly tried to
interrupt Kate, as the latter thus rattled on. Now, raising her hands,
she cried—
“Niece, niece, how you talk. Major Gordon,” she continued, turning
in real distress to the American officer, “you mustn’t mind what the
silly child says. I know you are too much of a gentleman to take
advantage of such wild talk. We are two inoffensive ladies, who wish to
have no part in the unhappy controversy which is now distracting this
land, except to render what assistance we can to those who suffer, and
to disburse our hospitalities to all who may visit the neighborhood.”
Major Gordon could not but acknowledge this last pointed reference to
himself with a profound bow, but it was with difficulty he refrained
from a smile, especially when, glancing at Kate, he saw the suppressed
mirth which laughed in her eyes.
“Well, aunt,” demurely said the niece, “Major Gordon will be so
good, I hope, as to consider what I said to be unsaid—”
“Certainly,” gravely replied the Major.
“Nevertheless, I may say,” continued Kate, in the same tone, “that
he won’t misinterpret me, when I add that I, at least, am not a bit
afraid. Our family has been so long in this part of the country, and has
labored so sincerely for the good of the people,” she added, more
seriously, “that no one but an outlaw, and a villain of the worst kind
at that, would harm us.”
“You must not be too sure, Miss Aylesford,” answered their guest.
“These refugees, or pine robbers, as we call them in Monmouth county,
are becoming very daring over the whole extent of territory, from this
and even further east and north, to Maurice river and the Delaware. It
was principally to guard the stores at the Forks from their attacks,
that my little detachment has been stationed there.”
“So I tell this willful girl,” interposed Mrs. Warren. “I say to
her continually, say I, that it isn’t safe for her to ride out alone,
as she used to do, and wishes to do now.”
“You are fond of riding?” said the Major, his eye lighting up as he
turned to Kate; for he thought a woman never looked more beautiful than
in the saddle.
“Passionately,” answered Kate. Then, coloring at her enthusiasm, she
continued— “That is, I like it, when I have a good horse.”
“An article in which, I presume, you must be deficient at present, not
having expected, as I understand, to reside here, but in New York.”
“I always designed living here, if it was practicable,” replied
Kate. “And as for a horse, I am not so unprovided as might be thought;
for the stables were kept up, in some degree at least, notwithstanding
our absence; and I find a six-year old here, which I am sure I could
ride.”
“Has he been broken?”
“By the stable-boys.”
“Is he wild?”
“Only gay.”
“Has he blood?”
“As Mr. Herman says, ‘where’s the horse without it?’” answered
Kate, laughingly. “But, to reply in the language of the turf, he is a
lineal descendant of Flying Childers.”
“Ah! I scarcely imagined there was such a one in America,” said the
Major, with increased interest.
“My father was very choice in his stock, and imported several
high-bred racers himself. There are excellent stables in Virginia also,
and he purchased a good deal there. Mr. Herman says that Arab could be
ridden easier by a lady than by a gentleman; I suppose it’s because,
like all well-born cavaliers, he is chivalrous to the weaker sex.”
“Pray,” said the Major, smiling, and turning to Mrs. Warren, “who
is the Mr. Herman that your niece has mentioned thus twice in the space
of five minutes? I suppose,” he continued, glancing at Kate, “I dare
not ask herself.”
“Mr. Herman?” replied the aunt, slowly. “O! that’s the old
farmer who was such a friend of my late brother. An excellent man, Major
Gordon, though not blessed with many of this world’s goods.”
“He’s a dear love of a man,” said Kate, with a pretty pout, for
somehow, she would have liked to have mystified her guest, “If I ever
marry, it will be him—”
“Niece!” As she spoke, Mrs. Warren uplifted her hands in horror.
“Why, Mr. Herman is married, and has children as old as yourself.”
“But I expect him to become a widower,” wickedly continued Kate.
Then, with a serious air, she resumed, addressing Major Gordon. “I
must really introduce you to Mr. Herman. He’s the best man we have in
the county, and quite a philosopher in his way. He’s of the old
Swedish stock, which, as you know, is famous for sterling honesty,
straight-forward common sense, and a just estimate of life. When I wish
to hear wisdom, I go over to his little clearing. But, if you are fond
of horses, as most officers are, would you look at Arab, and give me
your opinion?”
“Do, Major,” anxiously said Mrs. Warren, “and tell her that the
horse will kill her, if she attempts to ride him.” “I should like to
see Arab very much,” answered Major Gordon.
“James,” said Kate, summoning a servant, “have Arab brought out in
front of the house. We will accompany you as far as the porch, Major,”
she said, addressing her guest, and bowing for him to lead the way.
Arab deserved the enthusiasm which Kate evidently felt for him. He was a
dark chestnut horse, about fifteen hands high, with a head, neck and
shoulder that were perfection. He came dancing up to the gate, with
elevated crest and arched neck, the very beau-ideal of high breeding. As
he turned his head toward the porch, on hearing voices, the expression
of his large, dark eye, showed that he recognized Kate, who had already,
by feeding him from her hand, established an intimacy with him.
She could not resist the mute appeal, but impulsively running toward
him, patted him on the neck and face, while he turned his head, as
gently as a child, to lay it caressingly in her small palm.
“Mr. Herman is right,” said the Major, turning to Mrs. Warren.
“Miss Aylesford could ride Arab when nobody else could.”
“Do you really think so? You take a load from my mind by saying it.
But, indeed, the dear child is so rash.”
“Your niece appears to have excellent judgment; and courage is not
rashness.”
Then observing that Kate was looking his way, as she held one arm
affectionately around her horse’s neck, he moved towards the gate,
saying.
“I think Miss Aylesford would like me to try Arab.”
“Will you canter him for a few minutes?” Kate whispered. “Aunt is
really too timorous. Perhaps she’d have more confidence if she could
see how gently Arab will go, when ridden properly.”
A saddle was placed on Arab’s back, when the Major, vaulting into the
seat, cantered as far as the church and back, Arab going to the
admiration alike of Kate and of her aunt, his fine action pleasing the
one, and the readiness with which he obeyed his rider gratifying the
other.
“He moves beautifully,” said the Major. “If I may presume, Miss
Aylesford, will you ride with me to-morrow? I can assure you, Mrs.
Warren,” he said, turning to her aunt, “there is no danger.”
Kate assented with secret pleasure, and directly after wards Major
Gordon took his leave.