“Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand,
That you, yet, know not of,——”
Merchant of Venice.
Notwithstanding the active movements which had taken place in and
around the buildings of the Lust in Rust, during the night which ended
with our last chapter, none but the initiated were in the smallest
degree aware of their existence. Oloff Van Staats was early afoot; and
when he appeared on the lawn, to scent the morning air, there was
nothing visible, to give rise to a suspicion that aught extraordinary
had occurred during his slumbers. La Cour des Fées was still closed,
but the person of the faithful François was seen, near the abode of his
young mistress, busied in some of those pretty little offices, that can
easily be imagined would be agreeable to a maiden of her years and
station. Van Staats of Kinderhook had as little of romance in his
composition, as could well be in a youth of five-and-twenty, who was
commonly thought to be enamoured, and who was not altogether ignorant
of the conventional sympathies of the passion. The man was mortal, and
as the personal attractions of la belle Barbérie were sufficiently
obvious, he had not entirely escaped the fate, which seems nearly
inseparable from young fancy, when excited by beauty. He drew nigh to
the pavilion, and, by a guarded but decisive manœuvre, he managed to
come so close to the valet, as to render a verbal communication not
only natural, but nearly unavoidable.
“A fair morning and a healthful air, Monsieur François;” commenced the
young Patroon, acknowledging the low salute of the domestic, by gravely
lifting his own beaver. “This is a comfortable abode for the warm
months, and one it might be well to visit oftener.”
“When Monsieur le Patteron shall be de lor’ of ce manoir, aussi, he
shall come when he shall have la volonté,” returned François, who knew
that a pleasantry of his ought not to be construed into an engagement
on the part of her he served, while it could not fail to be agreeable
to him who heard it. “Monsieur de Van Staats, est grand propriétaire
sur la rivière, and one day, peut-être, he shall be propriétaire sur la
mèr!”
“I have thought of imitating the example of the Alderman, honest
Francis, and of building a villa on the coast; but there will be time
for that, when I shall find myself more established in life! Your young
mistress is not yet moving, Francis?”
“Ma foi, non—Mam’selle Alide sleep!—’tis good symptôme, Monsieur
Patteron, pour les jeunes personnes, to très bien sleep. Monsieur, et
toute la famille de Barbérie sleep à merveille! Oui, c’est toujours une
famille remarquable, pour le sommeil!”
“Yet one would wish to breathe this fresh and invigorating air, which
comes from off the sea, like a balm, in the early hours of the day.”
“Sans doute, Monsieur. C’est un miracle, how Mam’selle love de air!
Personne do not love air more, as Mam’selle Alide. Bah!—It was grand
plaisir to see how Monsieur de Barbérie love de air!”
“Perhaps, Mr. Francis, your young lady is ignorant of the hour. It
might be well to knock at the door, or perhaps at the window. I
confess, I should much admire to see her bright face, smiling from that
window, on this soft morning scene.”
It is not probable that the imagination of the Patroon of Kinderhook
ever before took so high a flight; and there was reason to suspect, by
the wavering and alarmed glance that he cast around him after so
unequivocal an expression of weakness, that he already repented his
temerity. François, who would not willingly disoblige a man that was
known to possess a hundred thousand acres of land, with manorial
rights, besides personals of no mean amount, felt embarrassed by the
request; but was enabled to recollect in time, that the heiress was
known to possess a decision of character that might choose to control
her own pleasures.
“Well, I shall be too happy to knock; mais, Monsieur sais, dat sleep
est si agréable, pour les jeunes personnes! On n’a jamais knock, dans
la famille de Monsieur de Barbérie, and je suis sûr, que Mam’selle
Alide, do not love to hear de knock—pourtant, si Monsieur le Patteron
le veut, I shall consult ses—Voila! Monsieur Bevre, qui vient sans
knock à la fenêtre. J’ai l’honneur de vous laisser avec Monsieur
Al’erman.”
And so the complaisant but still considerate valet bowed himself out of
a dilemma, that he found, as he muttered to himself, while retiring,
‘tant soit peu ennuyant.’
The air and manner of the Alderman, as he approached his guest, were,
like the character of the man, hale, hearty and a little occupied with
his own enjoyments and feelings. He hemmed thrice, ere he was near
enough to speak; and each of the strong expirations seemed to invite
the admiration of the Patroon, for the strength of his lungs, and for
the purity of the atmosphere around a villa which acknowledged him for
its owner.
“Zephyrs and Spas! but this is the abode of health, Patroon!” cried the
burgher, as soon as these demonstrations of his own bodily condition
had been sufficiently repeated. “One sometimes feels in this air equal
to holding a discourse, across the Atlantic, with his friends at
Scheveling, or the Helder. A broad and deep chest, air like this from
the sea, with a clear conscience, and a lucky hit in the way of trade,
cause the lungs of a man to play as easily and as imperceptibly as the
wings of a humming-bird.—Let me see; there are few four-score men in
thy stock. The last Patroon closed the books at sixty-six; and his
father went but a little beyond seventy. I wonder, there has never been
an intermarriage, among you, with the Van Courtlandts; that blood is as
good as an insurance to four-score and ten, of itself.”
“I find the air of your villa, Mr. Van Beverout, a cordial that one
could wish to take often,” returned the other, who had far less of the
brusque manner of the trader, than his companion. “It is a pity that
all who have the choice, do not profit by their opportunities to
breathe it.”
“You allude to the lazy mariners in yon vessel! Her Majesty’s servants
are seldom in a hurry; and as for this brigantine in the Cove, the
fellow seems to have gotten in by magic! I warrant me, now, the rogue
is there for no good, and that the Queen’s Exchequer will be none the
richer for his visit. Harkee, you Brom,” calling to an aged black, who
was working at no great distance from the dwelling, and who was deep in
his master’s confidence, “hast seen any boats plying between yonder
roguish-looking brigantine and the land?”
The negro shook his head, like the earthen image of a mandarin, and
laughed loud and heartily.
“I b’rieve he do all he mischief among a Yankee, an’ he only come here
to take he breat’,” said the wily slave. “Well, I wish, wid all a
heart, dere would come free-trader, some time, along our shore. Dat gib
a chance to poor black man, to make an honest penny!”
“You see, Patroon, human nature itself rises against monopoly! That was
the voice of instinct, speaking with the tongue of Brom; and it is no
easy task, for a merchant, to keep his dependants obedient to laws,
which, in themselves, create so constant a temptation to break them.
Well, well; we will always hope for the best, and endeavor to act like
dutiful subjects. The boat is not amiss, as to form and rig, let her
come from where she will.—Dost think the wind will be off the land this
morning?”
“There are signs of a change in the clouds. One could wish that all
should be out in the air, to taste this pleasant sea-breeze while it
lasts.”
“Come, come,” cried the Alderman, who had for a moment studied the
state of the heavens with a solicitude, that he feared might attract
his companion’s attention. “We will taste our breakfast. This is the
spot to show the use of teeth! The negroes have not been idle during
the night, Mr. Van Staats—he-e-em—I say, sir, they have not been
idle:—and we shall have a choice among the dainties of the river and
bay.—That cloud above the mouth of the Raritan appears to rise, and we
may yet have a breeze at west!”
“Yonder comes a boat in the direction of the city,” observed the other,
reluctantly obeying a motion of the Alderman to retire to the apartment
where they were accustomed to break their fasts. “To me, it seems to
approach with more than ordinary speed.”
“There are stout arms at its oars! Can it be a messenger for the
cruiser? no—it rather steers more for our own landing. These Jersey-men
are often overtaken by the night, between York and their own doors. And
now, Patroon, we will to our knives and forks, like men who have taken
the best stomachics.”
“And are we to refresh ourselves alone?” demanded the young man, who
ever and anon cast a sidelong and wistful glance at the closed and
immovable shutters of la Cour des Fées.
“Thy mother hath spoilt thee, young Oloff; unless the coffee comes from
a pretty female hand, it loses its savor. I take thy meaning, and think
none the worse of thee; for the weakness is natural at thy years.
Celibacy and independence! A man must get beyond forty, before he is
ever sure of being his own master. Come hither, Master Francis. It is
time my niece had shaken off this laziness, and shown her bright face
to the sun. We wait for her fair services at the table.—I see nothing
of that lazy hussy, Dinah, any more than of her mistress.”
“Assurément non, Monsieur,” returned the valet. “Mam’selle Dinah do not
love trop d’activité. Mais, Monsieur Al’erman, elles sont jeunes,
toutes les deux! Le sommeil est bien salutaire, pour la jeunesse.”
“The girl is no longer in her cradle, Francis, and it is time to rattle
at the windows. As for the black minx, who should have been up and at
her duty this hour, there will be a balance to settle between us. Come,
Patroon:—the appetite will not await the laziness of a wilful girl; we
will to the table.—Dost think the wind will stand at west this
morning?”
Thus saying, the Alderman led the way into the little parlor, where a
neat and comfortable service invited them to break their morning fast.
He was followed by Oloff Van Staats, with a lingering step for the
young man really longed to see the windows of the pavilion open, and
the fair face of Alida smiling amid the other beautiful objects of the
scene. François proceeded to take such measures to arouse his mistress,
as he believed to comport with his duty to her uncle, and his own ideas
of bienséance. After some little delay, the Alderman and his guest took
their seats at the table; the former loudly protesting against the
necessity of waiting for the idle, and throwing in an occasional moral
concerning the particular merit of punctuality in domestic economy, as
well as in the affairs of commerce.
“The ancients divided time,” said the somewhat pertinacious
commentator, “into years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and
moments, as they divided numbers into units, tens, hundreds, thousands,
and tens of thousands; and both with an object. If we commence at the
bottom, and employ well the moments, Mr. Van Staats, we turn the
minutes into tens, the hours into hundreds, and the weeks and months
into thousands—aye! and when there is a happy state of trade, into tens
of thousands! Missing an hour, therefore, is somewhat like dropping an
important figure in a complex calculation, and the whole labor may be
useless, for want of punctuality in one, as for want of accuracy in the
other. Your father, the late Patroon, was what may be called a
minute-man.—He was as certain to be seen in his pew, at church, at the
stroke of the clock, as to pay a bill, when its items had been properly
examined. Ah! it was a blessing to hold one of his notes, though they
were far scarcer than broad pieces, or bullion. I have heard it said,
Patroon, that the manor is backed by plenty of Johannes and Dutch
ducats!”
“The descendant has no reason to reproach his ancestors with want of
foresight.”
“Prudently answered;—not a word too much, nor too little—a principle on
which all honest men settle their accounts. By proper management, such
a foundation might be made to uphold an estate that should count
thousands with the best of Holland or England. Growth and majority!
Patroon; but we of the colonies must come to man’s estate in time, like
our cousins on the dykes of the Low Countries, or our rulers among the
smithies of England.—Erasmus, look at that cloud over the Raritan, and
tell me if it rises.”
The negro reported that the vapor was stationary; and, at the same
time, by way of episode, he told his master that the boat which had
been seen approaching the land had reached the wharf, and that some of
its crew were ascending the hill towards the Lust in Rust.
“Let them come of all hospitality,” returned the Alderman, heartily; “I
warrant me, they are honest farmers from the interior, a-hungered with
the toil of the night. Go tell the cook to feed them with the best, and
bid them welcome. And harkee, boy;—if there be among them any
comfortable yeoman, bid the man enter and sit at our table. This is not
a country, Patroon, to be nice about the quality of the cloth a man has
on his back, or whether he wears a wig or only his own hair.—What is
the fellow gaping at?”
Erasmus rubbed his eyes, and then showing his teeth to the full extent
of a double row, that glittered like pearls, he gave his master to
understand, that the negro, introduced to the reader under the name of
Euclid, and who was certainly his own brother of the half-blood, or by
the mother’s side, was entering the villa. The intelligence caused a
sudden cessation of the masticating process in the Alderman, who had
not, however, time to express his wonder ere two doors simultaneously
opened, and François presented himself at the one, while the shining
and doubting face of the slave from town darkened the other. The eyes
of Myndert rolled first to this side and then to that, a certain
misgiving of the heart preventing him from speaking to either; for he
saw, in the disturbed features of each, omens that bade him prepare
himself for unwelcome tidings. The reader will perceive, by the
description we shall give that there was abundant reason for the
sagacious burgher’s alarm.
The visage of the valet, at all times meagre and long, seemed extended
to far more than its usual dimensions, the under jaw appearing fallen
and trebly attenuated. The light-blue protruding eyes were open to the
utmost, and they expressed a certain confused wildness, that was none
the less striking, for the painful expression of mental suffering, with
which it was mingled. Both hands were raised, with the palms outward;
while the shoulders of the poor fellow were elevated so high, as
entirely to destroy the little symmetry that Nature had bestowed on
that particular part of his frame.
On the other hand, the look of the negro was guilty, dogged, and
cunning. His eye leered askance, seeming to wish to play around the
person of his master, as, it will be seen, his language endeavored to
play around his understanding. The hands crushed the crown of a woollen
hat between their fingers, and one of his feet described semicircles
with its toe, by performing nervous evolutions on its heel.
“Well!” ejaculated Myndert, regarding each in turn. “What news from the
Canadas?—Is the Queen dead, or has she restored the colony to the
United Provinces?”
“Mam’selle Alide!” exclaimed, or rather groaned, François.
“The poor dumb beast!—” muttered Euclid.
The knives and the forks fell from the hands of Myndert and his guest,
as it were by a simultaneous paralysis. The latter involuntarily arose;
while the former planted his solid person still more firmly in its
seat, like one who was preparing to meet some severe and expected
shock, with all the physical resolution he could muster.
“—What of my niece!—What of my geldings?—You have called upon Dinah?”
“Sans doute, Monsieur!”
“—And you kept the keys of the stable?”
“I nebber let him go, at all!”
“—And you bade her call her mistress?”
“She no make answair, de tout.”
“—The animals were fed and watered, as I ordered?”
“’Em nebber take he food, better!”
“—You entered the chamber of my niece, yourself, to awake her?”
“Monsieur a raison.”
“What the devil has befallen the innocent?”
“He lose he stomach quite, and I t’ink it great time ’fore it ebber
come back.”
“—Mister Francis, I desire to know the answer of Monsieur Barbérie’s
daughter.”
“Mam’selle no répond, Monsieur; pas un syllabe!”
“—Drenchers and fleams! The beauty should have been drenched and
blooded—”
“He’m too late for dat, Masser, on honor.”
“—The obstinate hussy! This comes of her Huguenot breed, a race that
would quit house and lands rather than change its place of worship!”
“La famille de Barbérie est honorable, Monsieur mais le Grand Monarque
fut un peu trop exigeant. Vraiment, la dragonade était mal avisée, pour
faire des chrétiens!”
“Apoplexies and hurry! you should have sent for the farrier to
administer to the sufferer, thou black hound!”
“’Em go for a butcher, Masser, to save he skin; for he war’ too soon
dead.”
The word dead produced a sudden pause. The preceding dialogue had been
so rapid, and question and answer, no less than the ideas of the
principal speaker, had got so confused, that, for a moment, he was
actually at a loss to understand, whether the last great debt of nature
had been paid by la belle Barbérie, or one of the Flemish geldings.
Until now, consternation, as well as the confusion of the interview,
had constrained the Patroon to be silent, but he profited by the
breathing-time to interpose.
“It is evident, Mr. Van Beverout,” he said, speaking with a tremor in
the voice, which betrayed his own uneasiness, “that some untoward event
has occurred. Perhaps the negro and I had better retire, that you may
question Francis concerning that which hath befallen Mademoiselle
Barbérie, more at your leisure.”
The Alderman was recalled from a profound stupor, by this gentlemanlike
and considerate proposal. He bowed his acknowledgments, and permitted
Mr. Van Staats to quit the room; but when Euclid would have followed,
he signed to the negro to remain.
“I may have occasion to question thee farther,” he said, in a voice
that had lost most of that compass and depth for which it was so
remarkable. “Stand there, sirrah, and be in readiness to answer. And
now, Mr. Francis, I desire to know why my niece declines taking the
breakfast with myself and my guest?”
“Mon Dieu, Monsieur, it is not possible y répondre. Les sentiments des
demoiselles are nevair décides!”
“Go then, and say to her, that my sentiments are decided to curtail
certain bequests and devises, which have consulted her interests more
than strict justice to others of my blood—aye, and even of my name,
might dictate.”
“Monsieur y réfléchira. Mam’selle Alide be so young personne!”
“Old or young, my mind is made up; and so to your Cour des Fées, and
tell the lazy minx as much.—Thou hast ridden that innocent, thou
scowling imp of darkness!”
“Mais, pensez-y, je vous en prie, Monsieur. Mam’selle shall nevair se
sauver encore; jamais, je vous en répond.”
“What is the fellow jabbering about?” exclaimed the Alderman, whose
mouth fell nearly to the degree that rendered the countenance of the
valet so singularly expressive of distress. “Where is my niece,
sir?—and what means this allusion to her absence?”
“La fille de Monsieur de Barbérie n’y est pas!” cried François, whose
heart was too full to utter more. The aged and affectionate domestic
laid his hand on his breast, with an air of acute suffering; and then,
remembering the presence of his superior, he turned, bowed with a
manner of profound condolence, struggled manfully with his own emotion,
and succeeded in getting out of the room with dignity and steadiness.
It is due to the character of Alderman Van Beverout, to say, that the
blow occasioned by the sudden death of the Flemish gelding, lost some
of its force, in consequence of so unlooked-for a report concerning the
inexplicable absence of his niece. Euclid was questioned, menaced, and
even anathematized, more than once, during the next ten minutes; but
the cunning slave succeeded in confounding himself so effectually with
the rest of his connexions of the half-blood, during the search which
instantly followed the report of François, that his crime was partially
forgotten.
On entering la Cour des Fées, it was, in truth, found to want her whose
beauty and grace had lent its chief attraction. The outer rooms, which
were small, and ordinarily occupied during the day by François and the
negress called Dinah, and in the night by the latter only, were in the
state in which they might be expected to be seen. The apartment of the
attendant furnished evidence that its occupant had quitted it in haste,
though there was every appearance of her having retired to rest at the
usual hour. Clothes were scattered carelessly about; and though most of
her personal effects had disappeared enough remained to prove that her
departure had been hurried and unforeseen.
On the other hand, the little saloon, with the dressing-room and
bed-room of la belle Barbérie, were in a state of the most studied
arrangement. Not an article of furniture was displaced, a door ajar, or
a window open. The pavilion had evidently been quitted by its ordinary
passage, and the door had been closed in the customary manner, without
using the fastenings. The bed had evidently not been entered, for the
linen was smooth and untouched. In short, so complete was the order of
the place, that, yielding to a powerful natural feeling, the Alderman
called aloud on his truant niece, by name, as if he expected to see her
appear from some place, in which she had secreted her person, in idle
sport. But this touching expedient was vain. The voice sounded hollow
through the deserted rooms; and though all waited long to listen, there
came no playful or laughing answer back.
“Alida!” cried the burgher, for the fourth and last time, “come forth,
child; I forgive thee thy idle sport, and all I have said of
disinheritance was but a jest. Come forth, my sister’s daughter, and
kiss thy old uncle!”
The Patroon turned aside, as he heard a man so known for his
worldliness yielding to the power of nature; and the lord of a hundred
thousand acres forgot his own disappointment, in the force of sympathy.
“Let us retire,” he said, gently urging the burgher to quit the place.
“A little reflection will enable us to deride what should be done.”
The Alderman complied. Before quitting the place, however, its closets
and drawers were examined; and the search left no further doubts of the
step which the young heiress had taken. Her clothes, books, utensils
for drawing, and even the lighter instruments of music, had
disappeared.