The Maid-At-Arms: A Novel Read online

  III

  COUSINS

  There was a large, discolored table in the armory, or gun-room, as theycalled it; and on this, without a cloth, our repast was spread by Cato,while the other servants retired, panting and grinning like over-fathounds after a pack-run.

  And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver, my cousins theVaricks, nor yet for fine glass, which I observed without appearance ofvulgar curiosity while Cato carved a cold joint of butcher's roast andcracked the bottles of wine--a claret that perfumed the room like agarden in September.

  "Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass to you," I said.

  "I drink your health, Cousin George," she said, gravely--"Benny, letthat wine alone! Is there no small-beer there, that you go coughing andstaining your bib over wine forbidden? Take his glass away, Ruyven! Takeit quick, I say!"

  Benny, deprived of his claret, collapsed moodily into a heap, and satswinging his legs and clipping the table, at every kick of his shoon,until my wine danced in my glass and soiled the table.

  "Stop that, you!" cried Cecile.

  Benny subsided, scowling.

  Though Dorothy was at some pains to assure me that they had dined but anhour before, that did not appear to blunt their appetites. And themanner in which they drank astonished me, a glass of wine beingconsidered sufficient for young ladies at home, and a half-glass forlads like Harry and Sam. Yet when I emptied my glass Dorothy emptiedhers, and the servants refilled hers when they refilled mine, till Igrew anxious and watched to see that her face flushed not, but had myanxiety for my pains, as she changed not a pulse-beat for all the redwine she swallowed.

  And Lord! how busy were her little white teeth, while her pretty eyesroved about, watchful that order be kept at this gypsy repast. Cecileand Harry fell to struggling for a glass, which snapped and flew toflakes under their clutching fingers, drenching them with claret.

  "Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, eyes ablaze. "Do you wish our cousinOrmond to take us for manner-less savages?"

  "Why not?" retorted Harry. "We are!"

  "Oh, Lud!" drawled Cecile, languidly fanning her flushed face, "I wouldI had drunk small-beer--Harry, if you kick me again I'll pinch!"

  "It's a shame," observed Ruyven, "that gentlemen of our age may not takea glass of wine together in comfort."

  "Your age!" laughed Dorothy. "Cousin Ormond is twenty-three, silly, andI'm eighteen--or close to it."

  "And I'm seventeen," retorted Ruyven.

  "Yet I throw you at wrestling," observed Dorothy, with a shrug.

  "Oh, your big feet! Who can move them?" he rejoined.

  "Big feet? Mine?" She bent, tore a satin shoe from her foot, and slappedit down on the table in challenge to all to equal it--a small,silver-buckled thing of Paddington's make, with a smart red heel and aslender body, slim as the crystal slipper of romance.

  There was no denying its shapeliness; presently she removed it, and,stooping, slowly drew it on her foot.

  "Is that the shoe Sir John drank your health from?" sneered Ruyven.

  A rich flush mounted to Dorothy's hair, and she caught at her wine-glassas though to throw it at her brother.

  "A married man, too," he laughed--"Sir John Johnson, the fat baronet ofthe Mohawks--"

  "Damn you, will you hold your silly tongue?" she cried, and rose tolaunch the glass, but I sprang to my feet, horrified and astounded, armoutstretched.

  "Ruyven," I said, sharply, "is it you who fling such a taunt to shameyour own kin? If there is aught of impropriety in what this man Sir Johnhas done, is it not our affair with him in place of a silly gibeat Dorothy?"

  "I ask pardon," stammered Ruyven; "had there been impropriety in whatthat fool, Sir John, did I should not have spoke, but have acted longsince, Cousin Ormond."

  "I'm sure of it," I said, warmly. "Forgive me, Ruyven."

  "Oh, la!" said Dorothy, her lips twitching to a smile, "Ruyven only saidit to plague me. I hate that baronet, and Ruyven knows it, and harpsever on a foolish drinking-bout where all fell to the table, even WalterButler, and that slow adder Sir John among the first. And they do say,"she added, with scorn, "that the baronet did find one of my old shoonand filled it to my health--damn him!--"

  "Dorothy!" I broke in, "who in Heaven's name taught you such shamefuloaths?"

  "Oaths?" Her face burned scarlet. "Is it a shameful oath to say 'Damnhim'?"

  "It is a common oath men use--not gentlewomen," I said.

  "Oh! I supposed it harmless. They all laugh when I say it--father andGuy Johnson and the rest; and they swear other oaths--words I would notsay if I could--but I did not know there was harm in a goodsmart 'damn!'"

  She leaned back, one slender hand playing with the stem of her glass;and the flush faded from her face like an afterglow from aserene horizon.

  "I fear," she said, "you of the South wear a polish we lack."

  "Best mirror your faults in it while you have the chance," said Harry,promptly.

  "We lack polish--even Walter Butler and Guy Johnson sneer at us underfather's nose," said Ruyven. "What the devil is it in us Varicks thatset folk whispering and snickering and nudging one another? Am Iparti-colored, like an Oneida at a scalp-dance? Does Harry wear bat'swings for ears? Are Dorothy's legs crooked, that they all stare?"

  "It's your red head," observed Cecile. "The good folk think to see thenoon-sun setting in the wood--"

  "Oh, tally! you always say that," snapped Ruyven.

  Dorothy, leaning forward, looked at me with dreamy blue eyes that sawbeyond me.

  "We are doubtless a little mad, ... as they say," she mused. "Otherwisewe seem to be like other folk. We have clothing befitting, when wechoose to wear it; we were schooled in Albany; we are people of quality,like the other patroons; we lack nothing for servants or tenants--whatails them all, to nudge and stare and grin when we pass?"

  "Mr. Livingston says our deportment shocks all," murmured Cecile.

  "The Schuylers will have none of us," added Harry, plaintively--"and Iadmire them, too."

  "Oh, they all conduct shamefully when I go to school in Albany," burstout Sammy; "and I thrashed that puling young patroon, too, for he saw meand refused my salute. But I think he will render me my bow next time."

  "Do the quality not visit you here?" I asked Dorothy.

  "Visit us? No, cousin. Who is to receive them? Our mother is dead."

  Cecile said: "Once they did come, but Uncle Varick had that mistress ofSir John's to sup with them and they took offence."

  "Mrs. Van Cortlandt said she was a painted hussy--" began Harry.

  "The Van Rensselaers left the house, vowing that Sir Lupus had used themshamefully," added Cecile; "and Sir Lupus said: 'Tush! tush! When theVan Rensselaers are too good for the Putnams of Tribes Hill I'll eat myspurs!' and then he laughed till he cried."

  "They never came again; nobody of quality ever came; nobody ever comes,"said Ruyven.

  "Excepting the Johnsons and the Butlers," corrected Sammy.

  "And then everybody geths tight; they were here lath night and UncleVarick is sthill abed," said little Benny, innocently.

  "Will you all hold your tongues?" cried Dorothy, fiercely. "Father saidwe were not to tell anybody that Sir John and the Ormond-Butlersvisited us."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  Dorothy clasped both hands under her chin, rested her bare elbows on thetable, and leaned close to me, whispering confidentially: "Because ofthe war with the Boston people. The country is overrun withrebels--rebel troops at Albany, rebel gunners at Stanwix, rebels atEdward and Hunter and Johnstown. A scout of ten men came here last week;they were harrying a war-party of Brant's Mohawks, and Stoner was withthem, and that great ox in buckskin, Jack Mount. And do you know what hesaid to father? He said, 'For Heaven's sake, turn red or blue, SirLupus, for if you don't we'll hang you to a crab-apple and chance thecolor.' And father said, 'I'm no partisan King's man'; and Jack Mountsaid, 'You're the joker of the pack, are you?' And father said, 'I'm notin the shuffle, and you
can bear me out, you rogue!' And then Jack Mountwagged his big forefinger at him and said, 'Sir Lupus, if you're but ajoker, one or t'other side must discard you!' And they rode away,priming their rifles and laughing, and father swore and shook hiscane at them."

  In her eagerness her lips almost touched my ear, and her breath warmedmy cheek.

  "All that I saw and heard," she whispered, "and I know father toldWalter Butler, for a scout came yesterday, saying that a scout from theRangers and the Royal Greens had crossed the hills, and I saw some ofSir John's Scotch loons riding like warlocks on the new road, and thatgreat fool, Francy McCraw, tearing along at their head and crowinglike a cock."

  "Cousin, cousin," I protested, "all this--all these names--even thecauses and the manners of this war, are incomprehensible to me."

  "Oh," she said, in surprise, "have you in Florida not heard of our war?"

  "Yes, yes--all know that war is with you, but that is all. I know thatthese Boston men are fighting our King; but why do the Indianstake part?"

  She looked at me blankly, and made a little gesture of dismay.

  "I see I must teach you history, cousin," she said. "Father tells usthat history is being made all about us in these days--and, would youbelieve it? Benny took it that books were being made in the woods allaround the house, and stole out to see, spite of the law thatfather made--"

  "Who thaw me?" shouted Benny.

  "Hush! Be quiet!" said Dorothy.

  Benny lay back in his chair and beat upon the table, howling defiance athis sister through Harry's shouts of laughter.

  "Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, flushed and furious. "Is this acorn-feast, that you all sit yelping in a circle? Ruyven, hold thatdoor, and see that no one follows us--"

  "What for?" demanded Ruyven, rising. "If you mean to keep our cousinOrmond to yourself--"

  "I wish to discuss secrets with my cousin Ormond," said Dorothy,loftily, and stepped from her chair, nose in the air, and thatheavy-lidded, insolent glance which once before had withered Ruyven, andnow withered him again.

  "We will go to the play-room," she whispered, passing me; "that room hasa bolt; they'll all be kicking at the door presently. Follow me."

  Ere we had reached the head of the stairs we heard a yell, a rush offeet, and she laughed, crying: "Did I not say so? They are after us nowfull bark! Come!"

  She caught my hand in hers and sped up the few remaining steps, thenthrough the upper hallway, guiding me the while her light feet flew; andI, embarrassed, bewildered, half laughing, half shamed to go a-racingthrough a strange house in such absurd a fashion.

  "Here!" she panted, dragging me into a great, bare chamber and boltingthe door, then leaned breathless against the wall to listen as the chasegalloped up, clamoring, kicking and beating on panel and wall, baffled.

  "They're raging to lose their new cousin," she breathed, smiling acrossat me with a glint of pride in her eyes. "They all think mightily ofyou, and now they'll be mad to follow you like hound-pups the whip, allday long." She tossed her head. "They're good lads, and Cecile is asweet child, too, but they must be made to understand that there aremoments when you and I desire to be alone together."

  "Of course," I said, gravely.

  "You and I have much to consider, much to discuss in these uncertaindays," she said, confidently. "And we cannot babble matters of import tothese children--"

  "I'm seventeen!" howled Ruyven, through the key-hole. "Dorothy's noteighteen till next month, the little fool--"

  "Don't mind him," said Dorothy, raising her voice for Ruyven's benefit."A lad who listens to his elders through a key-hole is not fit forserious--"

  A heavy assault on the door drowned Dorothy's voice. She waited calmlyuntil the uproar had subsided.

  "Let us sit by the window," she said, "and I will tell you how weVaricks stand betwixt the deep sea and the devil."

  "I wish to come in!" shouted Ruyven, in a threatening voice. Dorothylaughed, and pointed to a great arm-chair of leather and oak. "I willsit there; place it by the window, cousin."

  I placed the chair for her; she seated herself with unconscious grace,and motioned me to bring another chair for myself.

  "Are you going to let me in?" cried Ruyven.

  "Oh, go to the--" began Dorothy, then flushed and glanced at me, askingpardon in a low voice.

  A nice parent, Sir Lupus, with every child in his family ready to swearlike Flanders troopers at the first breath!

  Half reclining in her chair, limbs comfortably extended, Dorothy crossedher ankles and clasped her hands behind her head, a picture of indolencein every line and curve, from satin shoon to the dull gold of her hair,which, as I have said, the powder scarcely frosted.

  "To comprehend properly this war," she mused, more to herself than tome, "I suppose it is necessary to understand matters which I do notunderstand; how it chanced that our King lost his city of Boston, andwhy he has not long since sent his soldiers here into our countyof Tryon."

  "Too many rebels, cousin," I suggested, flippantly. She disregarded me,continuing quietly;

  "But this much, however, I do understand, that our province of New Yorkis the centre of all this trouble; that the men of Tryon hold the lastpennyweight, and that the balanced scales will tip only when we patroonscast in our fortunes, ... either with our King or with the rebelCongress which defies him. I think our hearts, not our interests, mustguide us in this affair, which touches our honor."

  Such pretty eloquence, thoughtful withal, was not what I had looked forin this new cousin of mine--this free-tongued maid, who, like a paintedpeach-fruit all unripe, wears the gay livery of maturity, tricking theeye with a false ripeness.

  "I have thought," she said, "that if the issues of this war depend onus, we patroons should not draw sword too hastily--yet not to sit likehouse-cats blinking at this world-wide blaze, but, in the full flood ofthe crisis, draw!--knowing of our own minds on which side liesthe right."

  "Who taught you this?" I asked, surprised to over-bluntness.

  "Who taught me? What? To think?" She laughed. "Solitude is a rare spurto thought. I listen to the gentlemen who talk with father; and I wouldgladly join and have my say, too, but that they treat me like a fool,and I have my questions for my pains. Yet I swear I am dowered with moresense than Sir John Johnson, with his pale eyes and thick, white flesh,and his tarnished honor to dog him like the shadow of a damned man soldto Satan--"

  "Is he dishonored?"

  "Is a parole broken a dishonor? The Boston people took him and placedhim on his honor to live at Johnson Hall and do no meddling. And nowhe's fled to Fort Niagara to raise the Mohawks. Is that honorable?"

  After a moment I said: "But a moment since you told me that Sir Johncomes here."

  She nodded. "He comes and gees in secret with young Walter Butler--oneof your Ormond-Butlers, cousin--and old John Butler, his father, Colonelof the Rangers, who boast they mean to scalp the whole of Tryon Countyere this blood-feud is ended. Oh, I have heard them talk and talk,drinking o' nights in the gun-room, and the escort's horses stamping atthe porch with a man to each horse, to hold the poor brutes' noses lestthey should neigh and wake the woods. Councils of war, they call them,these revels; but they end ever the same, with Sir John borne off to bedtoo drunk to curse the slaves who shoulder his fat bulk, and WalterButler, sullen, stunned by wine, a brooding thing of malice carved instone; and father roaring his same old songs, and beating time with hislong pipe till the stem snaps, and he throws the glowing bowl at Cato--"

  "Dorothy, Dorothy," I said, "are these the scenes you find already toofamiliar?"

  "Stale as last month's loaf in a ratty cupboard."

  "Do they not offend you?"

  "Oh, I am no prude--"

  "Do you mean to say Sir Lupus sanctions it?"

  "What? My presence? Oh, I amuse them; they dress me in Ruyven's clothesand have me to wine--lacking a tenor voice for their songs--and atfirst, long ago, their wine made me stupid, and they found rare sport inbaiting me; but now they
tumble, one by one, ere the wine's fire touchesmy face, and father swears there is no man in County Tryon can keep ourcompany o' nights and show a steady pair of legs like mine to bear himbedwards."

  After a moment's silence I said: "Are these your Northern customs?"

  "They are ours--and the others of our kind. I hear the plain folk of thecountry speak ill of us for the free life we lead at home--I mean thePalatines and the canting Dutch, not our tenants, though what even theymay think of the manor house and of us I can only suspect, for they areall rebels at heart, Sir John says, and wear blue noses at the first runo' king's cider."

  She gave a reckless laugh and crossed her knees, looking at me underhalf-veiled lids, smooth and pure as a child's.

  "Food for the devil, they dub us in the Palatine church," she added,yawning, till I could see all her small, white teeth set in rose.

  A nice nest of kinsmen had I uncovered in this hard, gray Northernforest! The Lord knows, we of the South do little penance for thepleasures a free life brings us under the Southern stars, yet suchlicense as this is not to our taste, and I think a man a fool to teachhis children to review with hardened eyes home scenes suited toa tavern.

  Yet I was a guest, having accepted shelter and eaten salt; and I mightnot say my mind, even claiming kinsman's privilege to rebuke what seemedto me to touch the family honor.

  Staring through the unwashed window-pane, moodily brooding on what I hadlearned, I followed impatiently the flight of those small, gray swallowsof the North, colorless as shadows, whirling in spirals above the coldchimneys, to tumble in like flakes of gray soot only to drift out again,wind--blown, aimless, irrational, senseless things. And again thathatred seized me for all this pale Northern world, where the very birdsgyrated like moon-smitten sprites, and the white spectre of virtue satamid orgies where bloodless fools caroused.

  "Are you homesick, cousin?" she asked.

  "Ay--if you must know the truth!" I broke out, not meaning to say myfill and ease me. "This is not the world; it is a gray inferno, whereshades rave without reason, where there is no color, no repose, nothingbut blankness and unreason, and an air that stings all living life tospasms of unrest. Your sun is hot, yet has no balm; your winds plaguethe skin and bones of a man; the forests are unfriendly; the waters allhurry as though bewitched! Brooks are cold and tasteless as the fog; theunsalted, spiceless air clogs the throat and whips the nerves till thevery soul in the body strains, fluttering to be free! How can decentfolk abide here?"

  I hesitated, then broke into a harsh laugh, for my cousin sat staring atme, lips parted, like a fair shape struck into marble by a breathof magic.

  "Pardon," I said. "Here am I, kindly invited to the council of a familywhose interests lie scattered through estates from the West Indies tothe Canadas, and I requite your hospitality by a rudeness I had notbelieved was in me."

  I asked her pardon again for the petty outburst of an untravelledyoungster whose first bath in this Northern air-ocean had chilled hissenses and his courtesy.

  "There is a land," I said, "where lately the gray bastions of St.Augustine reflected the gold and red of Spanish banners, and the bluesea mirrors a bluer sky. We Ormonds came there from the Western Indies,then drifted south, skirting the Matanzas to the sea islands on theHalifax, where I was born, an Englishman on Spanish soil, and have livedthere, knowing no land but that of Florida, treading no city streetssave those walled lanes of ancient Augustine. All this vast North is newto me, Dorothy; and, like our swamp-haunting Seminoles, my rustic'sinstinct finds hostility in what is new and strange, and I forget mybreeding in this gray maze which half confuses, half alarms me."

  "I am not offended," she said, smiling, "only I wonder what you finddistasteful here. Is it the solitude?"

  "No, for we also have that."

  "Is it us?"

  "Not you, Dorothy, nor yet Ruyven, nor the others. Forget what I said.As the Spaniards have it, 'Only a fool goes travelling,' and I'm not toonotorious for my wisdom, even in Augustine. If it be the custom of thepeople here to go mad, I'll not sit in a corner croaking, 'Repent andbe wise!' If the Varicks and the Butlers set the pace, I promise you tokeep the quarry, Mistress Folly, in view--perhaps outfoot you all toBedlam!... But, cousin, if you, too, run this uncoupled race with thepack, I mean to pace you, neck and neck, like a keen whip, ready to turnand lash the first who interferes with you."

  "With me?" she repeated, smiling. "Am I a youngster to be coddled andprotected? You have not seen our hunting. I lead, my friend;you follow."

  She unclasped her arms, which till now had held her bright head cradled,and sat up, hands on her knees, grave as an Egyptian goddessguarding tombs.

  "I'll wager I can outrun you, outshoot you, outride you, throw you atwrestle, cast the knife or hatchet truer than can you, catch more fishthan you--and bigger ones at that!"

  With an impatient gesture, peculiarly graceful, like the half-salute ofa friendly swordsman ere you draw and stand on guard:

  "Read the forest with me. I can outread you, sign for sign, track fortrack, trail in and trail out! The forest is to me Te-ka-on-do-duk [theplace with a sign-post]. And when the confederacy speaks with fivetongues, and every tongue split into five forked dialects, I make noanswer in finger-signs, as needs must you, my cousin of theSe-a-wan-ha-ka [the land of shells]. We speak to the Iroquois with ourlips, we People of the Morning. Our hands are for our rifles! Hiro [Ihave spoken]!"

  She laughed, challenging me with eye and lip.

  "And if you defy me to a bout with bowl or bottle I will not turncoward, neah-wen-ha [I thank you]! but I will drink with you and let myfather judge whose legs best carry him to bed! Koue! Answer me, mycousin, Tahoontowhe [the night hawk]."

  We were laughing now, yet I knew she had spoken seriously, and to plagueher I said: "You boast like a Seminole chanting the war-song."

  "I dare you to cast the hatchet!" she cried, reddening.

  "Dare me to a trial less rude," I protested, laughing the louder.

  "No, no! Come!" she said, impatient, unbolting the heavy door; and,willy-nilly, I followed, meeting the pack all sulking on the stairs, whorose to seize me as I came upon them.

  "Let him alone!" cried Dorothy; "he says he can outcast me with thewar-hatchet! Where is my hatchet? Sammy! Ruyven! find hatchets and cometo the painted post."

  "Sport!" cried Harry, leaping down-stairs before us. "Cecile, get yourhatchet--get mine, too! Come on, Cousin Ormond, I'll guide you; it's thepainted post by the spring--and hark, Cousin George, if you beat herI'll give you my silvered powder-horn!"

  Cecile and Sammy hastened up, bearing in their arms the slimwar-hatchets, cased in holsters of bright-beaded hide, and we took ourweapons and started, piloted by Harry through the door, and across theshady, unkempt lawn to the stockade gate.

  Dorothy and I walked side by side, like two champions in amiable confabbefore a friendly battle, intimately aloof from the gaping crowd whichfollows on the flanks of all true greatness.

  Out across the deep-green meadow we marched, the others trailing oneither side with eager advice to me, or chattering of contests past,when Walter Butler and Brant--he who is now war-chief of the loyalMohawks--cast hatchets for a silver girdle, which Brant wears still; andthe patroon, and Sir John, and all the great folk from Guy Park werehere a-betting on the Mohawk, which, they say, so angered Walter Butlerthat he lost the contest. And that day dated the silent enmity betweenBrant and Butler, which never healed.

  This I gathered amid all their chit-chat while we stood under thewillows near the spring, watching Ruyven pace the distance from the postback across the greensward towards us.

  Then, making his heel-mark in the grass, he took a green willow wand andset it, all feathered, in the turf.

  "Is it fair for Dorothy to cast her own hatchet?" asked Harry.

  "Give me Ruyven's," she said, half vexed. Aught that touched her senseof fairness sent a quick flame of anger to her cheeks which I admired.

  "Keep your own hatchet, cousin," I s
aid; "you may have need of it."

  "Give me Ruyven's hatchet," she repeated, with a stamp of her foot whichRuyven hastened to respect. Then she turned to me, pink with defiance:

  "It is always a stranger's honor," she said; so I advanced, drawing mylight, keen weapon from its beaded sheath, which I had belted round me;and Ruyven took station by the post, ten paces to the right.

  The post was painted scarlet, ringed with white above; below, inoutline, the form of a man--an Indian--with folded arms, also drawn inwhite paint. The play was simple; the hatchet must imbed its blade closeto the outlined shape, yet not "wound" or "draw blood."

  "Brant at first refused to cast against that figure," said Harry,laughing. "He consented only because the figure, though Indian, waspainted white."

  I scarce heard him as I stood measuring with my eyes the distance. Then,taking one step forward to the willow wand, I hurled the hatchet, and itlanded quivering in the shoulder of the outlined figure on the post.

  "A wound!" cried Cecile; and, mortified, I stepped back, biting my lip,while Harry notched one point against me on the willow wand and Dorothy,tightening her girdle, whipped out her bright war-axe and steppedforward. Nor did she even pause to scan the post; her arm shot up, thekeen axe-blade glittered and flew, sparkling and whirling, biting intothe post, chuck! handle a-quiver. And you could not have laid a Junewillow-leaf betwixt the Indian's head and the hatchet's blade.

  She turned to me, lips parted in a tormenting smile, and I praised thecast and took my hatchet from Ruyven to try once more. Yet again I brokeskin on the thigh of the pictured captive; and again the glistening axeleft Dorothy's hand, whirring to a safe score, a grass-stem's width fromthe Indian's head.

  I understood that I had met my master, yet for the third time strove;and my axe whistled true, standing point-bedded a finger's breadth fromthe cheek.

  "Can you mend that, Dorothy?" I asked, politely.

  She stood smiling, silent, hatchet poised, then nodded, launching theaxe. Crack! came the handles of the two hatchets, and rattled together.But the blade of her hatchet divided the space betwixt my blade and thepainted face, nor touched the outline by a fair hair's breadth.

  Astonishment was in my face, not chagrin, but she misread me, for thetriumph died out in her eyes, and, "Oh!" she said; "I did not mean towin--truly I did not," offering her hands in friendly amend.

  But at my quick laugh she brightened, still holding my hands, regardingme with curious eyes, brilliant as amethysts.

  "I was afraid I had hurt your pride--before these silly children--" shebegan.

  "Children!" shouted Ruyven. "I bet you ten shillings he can outcast youyet!"

  "Done!" she flashed, then, all in a breath, smiled adorably and shookher head. "No, I'll not bet. He could win if he chose. We understandeach other, my cousin Ormond and I," and gave my hands a little friendlyshake with both of hers, then dropped them to still Ruyven's clamorfor a wager.

  "You little beast!" she said, fiercely; "is it courteous to pit yourguests like game-cocks for your pleasure?"

  "You did it yourself!" retorted Ruyven, indignantly--"and entered thepit yourself."

  "For a jest, silly! There were no bets. Now frown and vapor and wag yourfinger--do! What do you lack? I will wrestle you if you wait until I donmy buckskins. No? A foot-race?--and I'll bet you your ten shillings onmyself! Ten to five--to three--to one! No? Then hush your silly head!"

  "Because," said Ruyven, sullenly, coming up to me, "she can outrun mewith her long legs, she gives herself the devil's own airs and graces.There's no living with her, I tell you. I wish I could go to the war."

  "You'll have to go when father declares himself," observed Dorothy,quietly polishing her hatchet on its leather sheath.

  "But he won't declare for King or Congress," retorted the boy.

  "Wait till they start to plague us," murmured Dorothy. "Some fine Julyday cows will be missed, or a barn burned, or a shepherd found scalped.Then you'll see which way the coin spins!"

  "Which way will it spin?" demanded Ruyven, incredulous yet eager.

  "Ask that squirrel yonder," she said, briefly.

  "Thanks; I've asked enough of chatterers," he snapped out, and came tothe tree where we were sitting in the shadow on the cool, thick carpetof the grass--such grass as I had never seen in that fair Southlandwhich I loved.

  The younger children gathered shyly about me, their active tonguessuddenly silent, as though, all at once, they had taken a sudden alarmto find me there.

  The reaction of fatigue was settling over me--for my journey had been along one that day--and I leaned my back against the tree and yawned,raising my hand to hide it.

  "I wonder," I said, "whether anybody here knows if my boxes and servanthave arrived from Philadelphia."

  "Your boxes are in the hallway by your bed-chamber," said Dorothy. "Yourservant went to Johnstown for news of you--let me see--I think it wasSaturday--"

  "Friday," said Ruyven, looking up from the willow wand which he waspeeling.

  "He never came back," observed Dorothy. "Some believe he ran away toAlbany, some think the Boston people caught him and impressed him towork on the fort at Stanwix."

  I felt my face growing hot.

  "I should like to know," said I, "who has dared to interfere with myservant."

  "So should I," said Ruyven, stoutly. "I'd knock his head off." Theothers stared. Dorothy, picking a meadow-flower to pieces, smiledquietly, but did not look up.

  "What do you think has happened to my black?" I asked, watching her.

  "I think Walter Butler's men caught him and packed him off to FortNiagara," she said.

  "Why do you believe that?" I asked, angrily.

  "Because Mr. Butler came here looking for boat-men; and I know he triedto bribe Cato to go. Cato told me." She turned sharply to the others."But mind you say nothing to Sir Lupus of this until I choose totell him!"

  "Have you proof that Mr. Butler was concerned in the disappearance of myservant?" I asked, with an unpleasant softness in my voice.

  "No proof," replied Dorothy, also very softly.

  "Then I may not even question him," I said.

  "No, you can do nothing--now."

  I thought a moment, frowning, then glanced up to find them all intentlywatching me.

  "I should like," said I, "to have a tub of clean water and freshclothing, and to sleep for an hour ere I dress to dine with Sir Lupus.But, first, I should like to see my mare, that she is well bedded and--"

  "I'll see to her," said Dorothy, springing to her feet. "Ruyven, do youtell Cato to wait on Captain Ormond." And to Harry and Cecile: "Bowl onthe lawn if you mean to bowl, and not in the hallway, while our cousinis sleeping." And to Benny: "If you tumble or fall into any foolishness,see that you squall no louder than a kitten mewing. Our cousin means tosleep for a whole hour."

  As I rose, nodding to them gravely, all their shy deference seemed toreturn; they were no longer a careless, chattering band, crowding at myelbows to pluck my sleeves with, "Oh, Cousin Ormond" this, and "Listen,cousin," that; but they stood in a covey, close together, a trifle awedat my height, I suppose; and Ruyven and Dorothy conducted me with a newceremony, each to outvie the other in politeness of language anddeportment, calling to my notice details of the scenery in stiltedphrases which nigh convulsed me, so that I could scarce control the setgravity of my features.

  At the house door they parted company with me, all save Ruyven andDorothy. The one marched off to summon Cato; the other stood silent, herhead a little on one side, contemplating a spot of sunlight on thedusty floor.

  "About young Walter Butler," she began, absently; "be not too short andsharp with him, cousin."

  "I hope I shall have no reason to be too blunt with my own kin," I said.

  "You may have reason--" She hesitated, then, with a pretty confidence inher eyes, "For my sake please to pass provocation unnoticed. None willdoubt your courage if you overlook and refuse to be affronted."

  "I cannot pass an affron
t," I said, bluntly. "What do you mean? Who isthis quarrelsome Mr. Butler?"

  "An Ormond-Butler," she said, earnestly; "but--but he has had trouble--aterrible disappointment in love, they say. He is morose at times--asullen, suspicious man, one of those who are ever seeking for offencewhere none is dreamed of; a man quick to give umbrage, quicker to resenta fancied slight--a remorseless eye that fixes you with the passionlessmenace of a hawk's eye, dreamily marking you for a victim. He is cruelto his servants, cruel to his animals, terrible in his hatred of theseBoston people. Nobody knows why they ridiculed him; but they did. Thatadds to the fuel which feeds the flame in him--that and the brooding onhis own grievances--"

  She moved nearer to me and laid her hand on my sleeve. "Cousin, the manis mad; I ask you to remember that in a moment of just provocation. Itwould grieve me if he were your enemy--I should not sleep for thinking."

  "Dorothy," I said, smiling, "I use some weapons better than I do thewar-axe. Are you afraid for me?"

  She looked at me seriously. "In that little world which I know there ismuch that terrifies men, yet I can say, without boasting, there is not,in my world, one living creature or one witch or spirit that Idread--no, not even Catrine Montour!"

  "And who is Catrine Montour?" I asked, amused at her earnestness.

  Ere she could reply, Ruyven called from the stairs that Cato had my tubof water all prepared, and she walked away, nodding a brief adieu,pausing at the door to give me one sweet, swift smile offriendly interest.