CHAPTER VII
Now the dark pages turning in the book of fate were flying faster thanyoung eyes could mark. First to the Hall came Thayendanegea, brotherto Mistress Molly, and embraced us all, eagerly admiring my uniformwith an Indian's frank naivete, caressing Silver Heels's curly pateand praising her beauty, and fondling Esk and Peter with Albany sweetstill I forbade them to approach, for their stickiness did disgust me.
I had always been greatly attached to Thayendanegea, for he was afrank, affectionate youth, though a blooded Mohawk, and possessing thecourtesy, gentleness, and graces of true quality.
Clothed like an English gentleman, bearing himself like a baronet, heconducted to the admiration and respect of all, and this though he wasthe great war-chief of the Mohawks, and already an honoured leader inthe council of the Six Nations.
He never became a sachem, but remained always the most respected andpowerful leader in the Long House. Even Huron and Delaware listenedwhen he spoke. He never treated the Lenni-Lenape as women, and forthis reason they listened always willingly to the voice of JosephBrant, called Thayendanegea.
Now, though Sir William had hitherto trusted Brant in all things, Inoticed he spoke not to Brant of Quider's mission, though Mr. Butlerhad already scented a mystery in the Cayuga's visit, and often askedwhy Quider had never spoken his message; for he was not aware thatboth message and answer had been delivered long ago.
That week there were three council fires at the Lower Castle, whichBrant and Mr. Butler attended in company with a certain thin littleSeneca chief called Red Jacket, a filthy, sly, and sullen creature,who was, perhaps, a great orator, but all the world knew him for aglutton and a coward.
Brant despised him, and it was Brant, too, who had given to Red Jacketthat insulting title, "The Cow-Killer," which even the Mohawk childrenshouted when Red Jacket came to Johnson Hall after the council fireshad been covered at the Lower Castle.
Our house had now been thronged with Indians for a week. Elevenhundred Mohawks, Cayugas, Senecas, Onondagas, and a few Tuscaroras layencamped around us, holding long talks with Red Jacket, Mr. Butler,and Brant; but Sir William attended no fires, and very soon Idiscovered the reason. For suddenly Sir John Johnson arrived at theHall, and with him Colonel Daniel Claus and his lady from Albany,which abrupt advents began a stir and bustle among us that increasedas, day by day, new guests arrived at our house. Johnson Hall, ColonelGuy Johnson's house, and the house of Colonel John Butler were nowcrowded to overflow with guests. Sachems and chiefs of the Oneidasarrived, officers from the Royal Americans and from the threeregiments of militia which Tryon County maintained, officers from myown troop of irregular horse quartered at Albany, and whom I now metfor the first time; and finally, in prodigious state, came ourGovernor Tryon from New York, with a troop of horse which, for beautyof clothing and impudence of deportment, I had never seen equalled.
The house rang with laughter and the tinkle of glasses from morninguntil night; on the stairs there swept a continuous rush and rustle ofladies' petticoats like the wind blowing through corn. Ladies filledthe house; there were maids and lackeys and footmen and chair-bearersand slaves thronging porch and hallway, new faces everywhere, newuniforms, new gowns, new phrases, new dishes at table, new airs at thespinet, new songs.
"Tiddle tinkle" went our spinet all day and night, with some Frenchladies from Saint Sacrement a-singing la-la-la.
As by a magic touch the old homely life had vanished, old facesdisappeared, old voices were silent. I looked in vain for SilverHeels, for Peter, for Esk. They were drowned in this silken sea.
And now, piling confusion on confusion, comes from the south my LordDunmore from Virginia, satin-coated, foppish, all powder and frill,and scented like a French lady. But oh, the gallant company he broughtto Johnson Hall--those courtly Virginians with their graces and velvetvoices, with their low bows and noiseless movements, elegant aspanthers, suave as Jesuits, and proud as heirs to kingdoms all.
Some lodged at the inns in town, some with us, some with Sir JohnJohnson, and others with Colonel Butler. But they all thronged ourhouse, day and night, till I was like to stifle with the perfumes andscented clothes of our white guests and the wild-animal aroma of theIndians.
For two days, indeed, I saw little of the company, for I lodged at theblock-house with Mr. Duncan, keeping an eye on the pest-hut where laythe stricken Cayuga; this by Sir William's orders, though warning meto approach the hut no nearer than the sentries, and that with myhanker to my nose and a lump of sulphur in my mouth.
As for Silver Heels, I saw her but twice, and then she disappearedentirely. I was sorry for her, believing she had been cooped withinthe limits of nursery and play-room; but I had my pity for my pains,as it turned out.
It came about in this way: I had been relieved of duties at theblock-house to receive reports of Quider's sickness, as it was nowbelieved certain that the Cayuga must die; and I had been ordered todress in my new uniform, to accompany Sir William to a review of ourhonest Tryon County militia, now assembling at Johnstown andSchenectady.
It was early morning, with the fields all dewy and a west wind blowingthe daisies into furrows, when I left my chamber, booted, hairpowdered in a club and tied with black, and my new silver gorgetshining like the sun on my breast. I was in dress uniform, scarletcoat, buff smalls, sash and sword glittering, and I meant to cut afigure that day which people might remember. But Lord! Even on thestaircase I found myself in a crowd of officers all laces and sashesand gold brocade, and buttons like yellow stars dancing on cuff andcollar. My uniform was but a spark in the fire; I was obscured, naysnuffed out in the midst of the Virginians with their flame-coloredscarfs and cockades, and the New York officers of the Governor'sdragoon guard, gorgeous as the drummers of the French grenadiers.
Smothered by the hot air, the perfumes and pomatum on stock and queue,the warm cloying odour of dressed leather and new gloves of kid-skin,I made my way into the hall, but found it packed with ladies, alla-fanning and rustling, with maids tying on sun-masks and pinningplumes to rolls of hair that towered like the Adirondacks, allvegetation and birds.
Hat under arm, hand on hilt, I did bow and smile and beseech for afree passage to the fresh air, and it made me think of edging throughthe barn-yard with the feathered flock crowding and ruffling athousand feathers. And as I threaded my way, minding my steps as wellI might, it was: "Oh, la! My lady's skirt!" and "Lud! The lad's spur'sin the lace!" "My mantua!" "Ah! my scarf's a-trail on the creature'ssword!" "Grand dieu! et ma robe, monsieur!"
Standing at last in the portico with the fresh wind in my face, Iperceived Sir William, attended by Sir John and Colonel Claus,inspecting the guard at the north block-house, and I made haste tojoin them, running fast, to the danger of my powdered hair, whichscattered a small snowy cloud in the wind.
"Gad! The lad's powdered like a Virginian!" said Sir William, laughingand drawing me to him, pinching my ears and chin. Then he dusted thepowder from my shoulders and turned me around, muttering to himself,"A proper officer, damme! a well-groomed lad; eh, Jack?"
"Yes," said Sir John, with his slow, reserved eyes shifting from myhat to my spurs. He gave me a damp finger to press, then hisindifferent gaze wandered to the meadows below, where the brown andyellow uniforms of Colonel Butler's militia regiment spread out likefurrows of autumn leaves.
I paid my respects to Colonel Claus, who honoured me with a carelessnod, and passed before me to greet Colonel John Butler and his son,Captain Walter Butler.
The Butlers were of a stripe; there was the blank fixed eye of thenight-bird in father and son, the deathly grimace to do duty as asmile, the mechanical observances of polite company, the compliments,the bows, the carriage of gentlemen, but back of it somethinglifeless, something slow and terrifying in voice and step--God knowswhat I mean! Yet often and often it came to me that inside theirbodies something was lying dead--their souls, perhaps.
I stood behind Sir William, drawing on my gloves of kid-skin,observing the officers as they came
up to join the staff, and standand watch the two remaining regiments marching into the meadow below.These regiments were clothed in brown, green, and scarlet, one wearinggreen coats, t'other bright red with yellow facings, an over-gaudyeffect and disturbing to my senses like the sounds of a spinet whenPeter pounded on the keys.
They had built a gayly painted wooden pavilion in the meadow for theladies and Governor Tryon and my Lord Dunmore, and now came thecoaches and calashes burdened with beauty and tickled and tricked outin ribbons, and the Virginians all a-horse, caracoling beside thevehicles, a brave, bright company, by Heaven!--for they rode perfectlyand with a gracious carelessness which contrasted favourably with thestiff, solid gallop of our Governor Tryon's dragoon guard.
Behind us the grooms were bringing up our mounts, and I slyly lookedfor Warlock, doubting lest he be 'portioned to some horseless guest.But there the dear fellow stood, ears pointed straight at me, andsnorting for the caress of my hand on his muzzle.
"Mount, gentlemen!" said Sir William, briskly, setting toe to thestirrup held by young Bareshanks; and up into our saddles we popped,while the trumpet blew from the block-house, and down in the meadowthe long painted drums boomed out the salute.
As we entered the meadow at a trot I caught a good, quick picture ofthe pavilion with its flags, its restless rows of ladies unmasking,fluttering kerchiefs and fans and scarfs; and my Lord Dunmore all overgold and blue, blinking like a cat in the sun, and the crimson of theGovernor's mantle, clasped with gilt, falling from his solid epaulets.This I saw clearly, but as we broke into a gallop across the clover,the colours ran like tinted fires; the dull reds and blues of theIndians, the shimmer on gorgets and buckles, the rippling flags; yetit seemed as I flew past that I had seen a face up there which I knewwell yet did not know, like those familiar eyes that look at us indreams. Surely it was not Silver Heels. But there was no time forspeculation now. Rub-a-dub-dub! Bang! Bang! Our brigade band wasmarching past with our head groom playing a French horn very badly,and old Norman McLeod a-fifing it, wrong foot foremost, which causedSir William to mutter "damn!" and rub his nose in mortification.
"'SILVER HEELS!' I STAMMERED"]
"Hay-foot! Straw-foot!" simpered a cornet of dragoons behind me, and Iturned on him, and gave him a look.
"Did you say you were hungry?" I whispered, backing my horse gentlyagainst the horse of the insolent cornet.
"Hungry?" he stammered.
"You mentioned hay, sir," I said, fiercely.
He turned red as a pippin but did not reply.
Swallowing my anger and my shame for our militia yokels, I glared atthe head of Colonel Butler's regiment, now passing, and was comforted,for the clod-hoppers marched like regulars with a solid double rank offifers shrilling out "Down, Derry, down!" as smart as you please.
After them came the green-coated varlets, with a good round stench ofthe stables from their ranks, yet footing it proudly, and their fifesringing a barbarous tune which is lately somewhat in vogue among us,the same being called "Yankee Doodle."
Followed our three companies of Royal Americans, drums beating "TheHuron," a most warming march and loudly applauded by the long lines ofcountry folk and Indians, sitting on the stone walls; and after themthe inharmonious regiment in yellow and red, with two men drunk and adog-fight in the rear, soberly observed by my Lord Dunmore, who laid abet with our Governor, and lost on the spotted dog, they say.
There was a sham battle of the troops, too; half a gill to every fifthman, and fifty pounds for the cannon on the hill, which cost SirWilliam a pretty penny, our Governor refusing to allow for the powderburned. However, it was a fine pageant, and pleased all; and I wassorry when the last cartridge was spent and the brigade band played,"God Save the King."
We followed Sir William to the pavilion, dismounting there to ascendthe stairs and pay our respects to the Governor and to Lord Dunmore.
"Come with me, Michael," said Sir William, wiping his face with hishanker till it glistened; and I followed the Baronet into theenclosure.
Lord Dunmore was tricked out like a painted actor, neither old noryoung, but too white and pink and without any red blood in him, as faras I could see. He wore a wig--it was said he possessed twenty andvalued at six thousand pounds--and his fingers, which I could seethrough the lace on his cuffs, were like white bird's claws loadedwith jewels.
When Lord Dunmore saw Sir William he fell a-tapping his snuff-box andbobbing and smiling, nor did he rise until we had made our way to him.
"Lud! Lud!" he said, and fell a-simpering, with hands raised infeigned amazement at the magnificence of the review. "Lud! Lud! SirWilliam! A gallant fete! A brave defile! Militia, not regulars, yousay! Vive Dieu, Sir William, a most creditable entraining!Permettez--mes compliments le plus distinguee!"
"My aide-de-camp, Lord Dunmore," said Sir William, bluntly; "yourLordship will remember Captain Cardigan who died before Quebec? Hisson, my Lord!--and my dear kinsman, Michael Cardigan, cornet in theBorderers."
"Strike me!" simpered Lord Dunmore. "Strike me, now, Sir William! Hehas his father's eyes--Vrai Dieu! Curse me, if he has not his father'seyes, Sir William!"
At this remarkable discovery I bowed and said it was an honour to beconsidered like my father in any particular.
"Burn me!" murmured his Lordship, in an ecstasy at my naturalresponse. "Burn me, Sir William, what a wit he has, now!" And hepeeped at me, squeezing his eyes into two weak slits, and laid hissnuff-box against his nose. Lord! What a false face he pulled at me!
Apparently surfeited with admiration, he invited Sir William to takesnuff with him, then turning to Governor Tryon, who had just come intothe stall, he fell to smirking and exclaiming and vapouring about Godknows what, until I, weary and cloyed, glanced around me at the crowdon the seats above us.
There were a hundred pair of bright eyes fixed on us, and withoutvanity I perceived a few to meet mine, but the faces were notdistinct, and I found it disconcerting.
Then a deep, pleasant voice sounded close beside me, and lookingaround, I saw our Governor Tryon smiling at me.
"I knew your father," he said; "it was a privilege, Mr. Cardigan, andone I take advantage of to address the son of so gallant a gentleman."
I replied warmly and gratefully, yet with military deference, and Isaw Sir William observing me, well pleased at my bearing.
"In these times," said the Governor, clasping his cloak over hisepaulets, "it is a pleasure to meet with modest loyalty in the youngergeneration. Loyal to parent, loyal to King! I predict we shall hearfrom you, Mr. Cardigan."
"Please God, sir," I replied, blushing scarlet; for into my mind creptthat wavering doubt which, since Sir William had talked with me,haunted me like a shadow.
The Governor passed by with his clanking dragoons, among them theyoung jackanapes who had presumed to sneer at our yeomanry, and wedelivered a pair of scornful glances at each other which crossed likebroadswords.
And now my Lord Dunmore's boudoir on wheels drove up, and his purringLordship minced off in the midst of his flame-coloured Virginians, forall the world like a white cat dancing through hell fire.
The ladies were rising, tying on sun-masks, standing in rows betweenthe seats, and the officers loitered and whispered and played withtheir snuff-boxes, while the silent Mohawk chiefs looked on, standinglike statues till the crowd gave them their liberty.
One lady there was, in a mask and silvery cloak, who looked at me solong through the eye-holes that I felt my heart begin a-beating; andanother, too, in mask and rose mantle, who lifted the linen a trifle,displaying a fresh, sweet, smiling mouth. This one in rose turnedtwice to look at me, and it amused me to feel my heart go a-bumpingat my ribs so loud, for she did truly resemble Marie Livingston.
Sir William and Colonel Claus had joined Lord Dunmore in his coach;Sir John and Colonel Butler attached themselves to our Governor Tryon.I, abandoned, rode back to the Hall with a company of Virginians anddragoons, wondering if ever I might acquire such horsemanship as theSoutherners dis
played.
Coming to the Hall, I met Sir William, whose smiling face grew haggardat sight of me, and he drew me apart, asking of news from Quider.
"He is not yet dead, sir," I replied, my heart aching for Sir William.
For a moment he stood staring at the ground, then bidding me report toMr. Duncan at the block-house, walked away to disguise his anxiousvisage again with the oldest mask in the world--a smile.
That night Sir William provided two great banquets for our guests, oneat the court-house in Johnstown, the other at Johnson Hall.
The splendid banquet at the court-house was given to all the visitingofficers except Lord Dunmore, Governor Tryon, and their particularaides. To it were invited the Virginians, the New-Yorkers, theimportant Mohawk, Seneca, and Onondaga sachems, and chiefs of the LongHouse. Also were bidden the officers of our Royal Americans, suchofficers of the Border House as had come with Governor Tryon, and allgentlemen of distinction who had brought their ladies.
Colonel Claus and his lady presided as host and hostess, representingSir William and Mistress Molly, and our brigade band played in thegallery during the banquet, and later on the portico of thecourt-house, where a great crowd of people had collected to cheer.
The other banquet was given at the same hour in our house, to honourLord Dunmore and Governor Tryon.
There were gathered in the hallway and on the stairs a vast company ofladies and gentlemen when I came down from my little chamber to waiton Sir William. Here was the great Earl of Dunmore in a ring offluttering ladies, peering, bobbing, tapping his snuff-box, preeningthe lace on his cuffs--and I thought he resembled one of thoseirksome restless birds from the Canaries in a painted cage.
There was our Governor Tryon in purple silk from head to foot, withthe broad sash and star on his breast, leaning over, hands claspedbehind his back, to whisper jest or flattery to a young girl whotapped at him with her fan. There was my kinsman, Sir John Johnson,with his indifferent eyes and ungracious carriage, and old ColonelButler watching the gay company as hawks, from sheer habit, watchpeacocks, meaning no attack. There also strolled my impudent dragoonlad who had offended at the pavilion, and I will not deny he appearedto be an elegant and handsome officer, possessing those markedcharacteristics of fashion and assurance which one observes in allgentlemen from the city of New York.
Making my way carefully amid rustling petticoats and a forest ofpainted fans all waving like the wings of a swarm of moths drawn bythe candle-light, I passed Mistress Molly on the arm of Sir William,touching my lips to her pretty fingers, which she held out to mebehind her back.
Next I encountered Mr. Butler and honoured him with a scowl, whichdisplayed my country breeding, it being the fashion among quality togreet one's enemy with more elaborate courtesy than one accords tofriends.
People passed and repassed with laughter and whisper, and the scentedwind from their fans swept my cheek.
Suddenly it seemed as though the voice of Silver Heels sounded in myears, and for a moment I stared about me, astonished that she shouldbe here. But I could not find her. Then her voice sounded again, clearas a pebbled spring in all that chatter, and turning, I saw it camefrom a young girl standing behind me. She was very delicate and prettyin her powder and patches, truly somewhat pale and lacking inplumpness, but with a pair of great hazel eyes like Silver Heels's,and the child's full lips. Certainly she had Silver Heels's voice, andher trick of widening her eyes, too, for now she perceived me, and--
"Why, Micky!" she cried.
"Silver Heels!" I stammered, striving to believe my eyes. What miracleof miracles had set her to grow tall and turn into a woman in a singleweek?
I stared almost piteously at her, trying to find my own familiarcomrade in this whispering shower of silk and ribbon, this delicatestranger, smiling breathlessly at me with sparkling teeth set on theedge of her painted fan.
In her triumph she laughed that laugh of silver which sounded ever ofwoodlands and birds, the same laugh, the same gray eyes, and the samesatin fingers laid on my wrist.
"Silly," she whispered, "I told you so. And it has come true; my gownis silk, my stockings silk, my shoes are Paddington's make and silkento the soles!"
"How did you grow?" I gasped.
"Have I grown? Oh, my gown and shoes count, too, and my hair rolled byBetty till I vowed she meant to scalp me! See my egrettes! Are theystraight, Micky?"
Ere I could attempt to compose my thoughts, comes mincing my impudentdragoon, who seemed to know her, for he brought her a ribbon to tieabove her elbow, explaining it was a new conceit from New York.
"It's this way," he explained, utterly ignoring my presence; "I tiethis bow of blue above your elbow, so!--with your gracious consent.Now for a partner to lead you to the table I seek some gentleman andtie a blue bow to his sword-hilt."
"Pray tie it to Mr. Cardigan's," said Silver Heels, mischievously. "Ihave much to say to him for his peace of mind."
The dragoon and I, face to face, regarded each other with menacingcomposure.
"To deprive you of such an honour, sir," said he, coolly, "I protestreduces me to despair; but the light blue bows have already beenawarded, Mr. Cardigan."
Instinctively I glanced at his own sword-hilt, and there fluttered alight blue ribbon. At the same moment I perceived that Silver Heelshad been perfectly aware of this.
Mortified as I was, and stinging under the dragoon's impudence, Icontrolled myself sufficiently to congratulate him and courteouslydeplore my own ill fortune, without a grimace, though it stuck in mythroat to say it.
"Let not your lady hear that!" said Silver Heels, with her fan hidingher lips. "How do you know, sir, which partner fate and Mr. Bevan mayallot you?"
Mr. Bevan and I regarded each other in solemn hostility.
"May I have the honour of attaching this ribbon to your hilt, sir?" heasked, stiffly.
"You may, sir," said I, still more stiffly, "if it is necessary."
He tied a red bow-knot to my hilt; we bowed to each other, then with asmile and a word to Silver Heels which I did not catch, he saluted usagain and strolled off with his nose in the air and his hands full ofribbons of every hue--the fop!
"Who is that pitiful ass?" I said, turning to Silver Heels.
"Why, Michael!" she protested, reproachfully, yet smiling, too.
"Oh, if he's one of your friends, I ask indulgence," said I, madenough to pluck the blue knot from her arm.
"Truly, Michael," she sniffed, "you are still very young."
She seated herself by the big clock; I sat beside her, sullenly, andfor a time I peered at her sideways. Verily, the impossible hadovertaken us; she appeared to be fully as tall as half the ladiesgathered around us; her self-possession and obvious indifference to mecompleted my growing discomfort. I looked at her small, silk-coveredtoes pushing out under her petticoat.
"Is the dandelion juice on them yet?" I asked, with piteousplayfulness.
"Don't talk like that!" she said, sharply, drawing her feet in. Andwith that petulant movement the playmate I had so often bullied,slipped away from me forever, leaving in her place a dainty thing ofairs and laces to flout me, whom I knew not, but whom I meant to beavenged on; for at moments, as I sat there, I could have yelled aloudin my vexation.
Lord! how they all ogled her, and came a-mincing, gentlemen andladies, old and young, and I heard whispers around me that she was abeauty and would be rich one day. My Lord Dunmore, too, came a-dancingpit-pat! till I thought to hear his bones creak inside his white silk;and the dragoon jackanapes was there, having tied up everything withhis ribbons save his own long ears, and it infuriated me to see himstanding guard protector over Silver Heels, with jealous smiles forall who approached.
Now what the devil had seized all these gentlemen to set them smirkingand vapouring over Silver Heels, I did not know, or rather, I knewperfectly well, because it was as plain as a Mohawk moccasin on aspotted trail that Silver Heels had suddenly become a beauty. Even Icould see that. Granted her bosom lacked somewhat
in fulness, granteda childish leanness of arm and neck, granted even a pallor whichadorned her not, and which, to tell the truth, I knew came fromfright, there was something in the frail moulding of her that dreweyes, something in the arm's slim contours that touched even me.
I might have taken a pride in her, had not all these bobbing pigeonscome crowding about to share openly my unconfessed admiration. Butthey bowed and strutted and posed and flattered, pressing closer untilshe was shut from my sight by a circle of coat-skirts, tilted swords,and muscular calves in silken stockings.
Presently our fiddlers and bassoons started the "Huron;" there was aflutter to find ribbons that matched, and a world of bustle andlaughter, with gentlemen and ladies comparing colours and bowing andcurtseying without regard to neighbors' toes and petticoats--thetittering popinjays!
Truly, if this mode of choosing one's lady prevailed in New York, I atleast found it smacked something of silliness and French frivolity.
I had now been crowded up against our tall clock in the hall, andstood there striving to get a glimpse of Silver Heels, completelyforgetting that somewhere in the crush a lady with a scarlet ribbon onher arm might be waiting for me. And doubtless I should have remainedthere, gnawing my lip, till doomsday, had not Silver Heels espied meand come fluttering through the crowd with:
"Oh, Micky! Have you seen your lady? Your old friend Marie Livingston!But she is wedded now; she is that pretty Mrs. Hamilton from SaintSacrement. Oh, you lucky boy! All the officers are raving over her!But I asked her if she remembered you, and she said she didn't, sothere!"
"Silver Heels," I began, with the first appealing glance I had everbestowed on a woman; "Silver Heels, I want to tell you something."
I do not believe she was listening, or perhaps the chatter around usdrowned my voice, which was husky and over-fond, for she cried: "Youmust not detain me, Michael. Mr. Bevan is waiting for me."
And with that she was gone into the whirl, leaving me high and dryagainst my clock, and furious over I knew not what. For truly I myselfdid not know what it was I had been about to say to Silver Heels. Asfor this Mrs. Hamilton, it madded me to hear of her. I had longforgotten Marie Livingston--save as a name to goad Silver Heelswithal.
Mrs. Hamilton, forsooth! What the foul fiend had I to do with anotherman's wife, whether Hamilton or Smith or Jones I cared not, while thatape of a New-Yorker had set himself in my rightful place beside SilverHeels! And what stabbed deepest was that Silver Heels found pleasurein his foolish company--ay, plainly preferred him to me--theungrateful minx! I prayed fervently she might live to repent it. Ipictured her remorse when she came to her senses. And in a moment moreI had slipped into one of my waking dreams wherein justice was dealtout by the jugful all around, and I emerged from some scenes ofcarnage, calm, triumphant, gently forgiving Silver Heels theaccumulated sins of her misspent life.
Sullenly dreaming there under the tall clock, and happening to lift myeyes towards heaven for some of its spare vengeance, I perceived onthe stairs that same lady who had half raised her sun-mask at thereview--I mean the one in the rose mantle, not the other in thesilvery cloak, whom I now knew had been Silver Heels.
Down the stairs rustled my lady of the rose mantle, finger-tipsplaying a tattoo over the mahogany balustrade, and on her lips asmile, as I fancied, though later I came to know that it was only thenatural expression of her mouth. Something in my memory stirred atthat smiling face.
Now she was looking straight at me, with that delicate curve of herlips which sets men thinking, and at the same moment I perceived thatshe wore my colours. Marie Livingston! I should never have known her;so we were quits, the affected minx! This was Mrs. Hamilton!--thisbright-eyed girl with her smooth rose-petal skin and her snowy hand onthe balustrade. Could I be mistaken? Surely she wore my colours! Iglanced at the knot on my sword-hilt, then pressed through the throngto the stairway. Now at last I could pay Silver Heels in her ownwampum, and I meant to do it under her very nose.
I met Mrs. Hamilton at the foot of the stairs, but she did not appearto see me. Truly she was a miracle of innocence not to have perceivedher colours on my hilt, or perhaps she was over-timid. So I addressedher reassuringly and made her a bow that I knew must be impressive.However, I found her less confused than I, for she insisted onmatching ribbons very carefully, which hurt my pride somewhat. Butwhen she could no longer doubt that our ribbons matched, she made me awhimsical reverence, and took my arm with a smile, and a cool: "Oh, Ifaintly recall you now, Mr. Cardigan. How you have grown!"
Out into the wilderness of silver and candle-light we passed, fiddleand bassoon a-playing with might and main, and we stood behind ourchairs while my Lord Dunmore chattered a blessing, then seatedourselves amid a gale of whispers.
Through the flare of the candles I saw Brant and Sir John Johnson nearus, and also that filthy Indian, Red Jacket, both hands already in adish of jelly, a-gobbling and grunting to himself, which sent LordDunmore into peals of shrill laughter, though Sir William took nonotice. Presently I perceived Silver Heels and Mr. Bevan, nearlyopposite to us, and strove to catch her eye. But Silver Heels tooksmall notice of me; her cheeks had gone red with her first sip ofwine, and she sat there rosy and silent, head a little lowered, whilethat insufferable coxcomb whispered into her ear, and smirked, andplayed with his wine-glass till the very sight of the man sickened me.
Stung to the quick by her indifference to my presence, smarting in myfancied isolation, I resolved to show her that I cared not a whit forher or her dragoon. So I loosened my tongue and set it wagging sosmartly that I think I astonished Mrs. Hamilton, who had beenobserving Mr. Bevan with her fixed smile. At any rate, she gave me along, pleasant stare, and presently her fixed smile became very sweetand pretty, although I thought a trifle mocking.
"Is it not amusing?" she said, coolly; "here you sit with me, when youwould give your tow-head to be prattling into Mistress Warren's ears;and here sit I at twiddle-thumbs, devising vengeance on Mr. Bevan, whobelongs to me!"
Perplexed and disconcerted, I found no words to answer such an amazingsally. It shamed me, too. Perhaps my countenance had betrayed me, buther confession concerning Mr. Bevan was a bold one, and not at all tomy taste.
"I thought you had a husband," said I, with boyish bluntness.
She coloured up like fire for a moment, and I was sorry I spoke, but Ihad my pity for my pains, for the next instant she was laughing at meas though I were a ninny, and I could discover no reason for hermirth.
"Please tell me your Christian name," she said, sweetly. "I really dodesire to recall it."
"My name is Michael," said I, suspiciously.
"Was it not Saint Michael who so soundly spanked the devil?" sheasked, with her innocent smile. "Truly, Mr. Cardigan, you were wellnamed to chastise the wicked with such sturdy innocence!"
I fumed inwardly, for I had no mind to be considered a gaby amongwomen.
"I am perfectly aware, madam, that it is the fashion for charmingwomen to turn boys' heads," said I, "and I wish you might turn Mr.Bevan's head till you twisted it off his neck!"
"I'd rather twist yours," she said, looking up from her plate ofbroiled troutlings.
"Twist it off?" I asked, curiously.
"I--I don't know. Look at me, Mr. Cardigan."
I met her pretty eyes.
"No, not quite off," she said, thoughtfully. "You are a nice boy, butnot very bright. If you were you would pay me compliments instead ofadmonition. Perhaps you will after the Madeira. Perhaps you will evenmake love to me."
"I will do it before the Madeira," said I. "You are certainly theprettiest woman in Johnson Hall to-night, and if you've a mind forvengeance on your faithless dragoon yonder, pray take me for theinstrument, Mrs. Hamilton."
"Hush!" she said, with a startled smile. "I may take you at yourword."
"I am taking you at yours," said I, recklessly, and loud enough forSilver Heels to hear.
In the dull din of voices around us I heard Silver Heels's laugh, butthe laugh was stra
ined, and I knew she was looking at me andlistening.
"I don't know what you mean," said Mrs. Hamilton, reddening, "but Iknow you to be a somewhat indiscreet young man who handles a woman ashe would a club to beat his rival to the earth withal."
"I mean," said I, in a low voice, "to make love to you and so serve usboth. Look at me, Mrs. Hamilton."
"I will not," she said, between her teeth.
"Tell me," I pleaded, "what is your Christian name. I do really wishto know, Mrs. Hamilton."
Spite of the angry red in her cheeks she laughed outright, glancedsideways at me, and laughed again, so blithely that I thought I hadtruly never seen such careless ripened healthy beauty in any woman.
"My name is Marie Hamilton, of Saint Sacrement, please you, kind sir,"she lisped, with an affected simper which set us both a-laughingagain.
"If you ever had your heart stormed you had best prepare for noquarter now!" I said, coolly.
"Insolent!" she murmured, covering her bright cheeks with her hands,and giving me a glance in which amusement, contempt, curiosity, andinvitation were not inharmoniously blended.
The Madeira had now turned my blood to little rivers of fire, I beingbut lately enfranchised from the children's pewters and small-beer;but yet I am so made that never then nor since have the delicatevapours of wines stifled such wits as I possess. It is my conscienceonly that wine dulls.
So amid the low tumult, the breezy gush of whispers, the laughter, andthe crystal tinkle of silver and glass, I made indiscreet,clear-headed love to Mistress Marie Hamilton, retreating under hercruel satire, rallying in the bright battery of her eyes, charging thecitadel of her heart with that insincere and gay abandon whichharasses, disconcerts, and piques a woman who understands better howto repel true passion.
"In what school have you been taught to make love, sir?" she said, atlast, breathless, amused, yet exasperated.
"In the school of necessity, madam," I replied.
"I pray you teach something of your art to Mr. Bevan," said she,spitefully, over her fan's silk edge.
"I am teaching him now," said I.
It was true. The dragoon was staring at Mrs. Hamilton in undisguiseddispleasure. As for Silver Heels, she observed us with a scornfulamazement which roused all the cruelty in me, though I knew I waslosing her innocent belief in me and tearing my respectability toshreds under her clear gray eyes.
For a bud from Mrs. Hamilton's caushet I threw away the pure faith ofmy little comrade; for a touch of her hand I blighted her trust; andlaughed as I did it.
Only once was Mrs. Hamilton off her guard, when my earnest acting hadsuddenly become real to me--a danger, I have since found, that noactors are too clever to escape sometimes.
"If for one moment you could be in earnest," she ventured, with asmile.
I was on guard again before she finished, and she saw it, but was toowise to betray regret or anger for her mistake.
"Pray, cease," she said; "you weary me, Mr. Cardigan. The coldestamong us reflect fire, even though it be as false as the dead fires ofthe moon. You are prettily revenged; let us have peace."
Now the healths flew thick and fast from Sir William and Lord Dunmore,the titled toast-masters, and we drank his Majesty George the Third inbumpers which set the Indians a-howling like timber wolves atCandlemas.
Indeed, our forest of lights might have served for the Romish feastitself.
Toast followed toast in a tempest of cheers, through which the yelpsof the Indians sounded faintly. I saw Brant take a silver plate and asolid candle-stick from under Red Jacket's shirt, while that greatorator, very drunk, sat a-hacking the cloth with a table-knife. I sawmy Lord Dunmore, all in white silk and blazing with stars, rise topledge the ladies, and stand swaying and leering and gumming his glasstill it upset on his chin, and the jewels in his lace front drippedwine.
Mistress Molly we pledged with a shout, and she returned our courtesywith gentle gravity, but her eyes were for Sir William alone.
Then Lord Dunmore gave:
"Our lovely heiress, Mistress Warren!" ending in a hiccough, and poorSilver Heels, pale as a white blossom, half rose from her seat asthough to fly to Mistress Molly.
Red Jacket was on his feet now, slavering and mouthing and hacking atthe air, and Brant and I dragged him out into the garden where hissquaw took charge, leading him lurching and howling down the hill.Before I returned, the ladies were in the hallway and the card-room,the gentlemen following in groups from the table, some shamefullyunsteady of leg, and feebly scattering snuff in amiable invitation totheir neighbours.
But Sir William had disappeared, and I hunted vainly for him until Iencountered Mrs. Hamilton, who directed me to the library, whither,she averred, Sir William, Governor Tryon, and Lord Dunmore hadretired.
"State secrets, Master Michael," she added, saucily. "You had bestfind Mr. Bevan and start those same lessons we have discussed."
"Let me instruct him by proxy," said I, drawing her under the stairs,and ere she could protest or escape, I kissed her lips three separatetimes.
She was in tears in an instant, which I had not counted on, and itneeded my most earnest acting to subdue her indignation.
I had my arm around her, and my coat was all powder and rouge, whensomething made me look around. There was Silver Heels going towardsthe pantry with Betty, doubtless to pouch some sweets for her blacknurse. Her head was steadily lowered, her lashes rested on her cheeks,but face and neck and bosom were glowing in a deep colour, and I knewshe had perceived us, and that she despised us with all the strengthof her innocent soul.
Stunned with the conviction that I had gone too far, I made out toplay my miserable farce to an end and led Mrs. Hamilton out where Mr.Bevan could pounce upon her, which he did with an insolence that I hadlittle spirit to notice or resent.
Then I hastened to the pantry where Silver Heels stood before therifled dishes, hands to her face, and black Betty a-petting her. Butat sight of me she turned scarlet and shrank back, nor would shelisten to one word.
"What yoh done to mah li'l Miss Honey-bee?" exclaimed Betty,wrathfully, shaking her turban till the rings in her big ears jingledlike sledge-bells in December. "I done 'spec' yoh, Mars Ca'digan, suh!Yaas, I 'spec' yoh is lak all de young gemmen!"
Then the old witch began a-crooning over Silver Heels with deadlyglances at me:
"Doan yoh cyah, li'l Miss Honey-bee, doan yoh mind nuff'n! Huh! Hadmah s'picions 'bout dat young Mars Ca'digan. Doan yoh mind him nomoh'n a blue-tail fly!"
"Very well," said I, angrily, "you can do as you choose, and thinkwhat you like. As for your fool of a dragoon, Mrs. Hamilton willsettle him, and if she doesn't I will."
My foolish outburst seemed to rouse a panther in Silver Heels, and fora moment I believed she meant to strike me. But the storm swept over,leaving her with limbs a-quiver and eyes wet.
"You have spoiled my first pleasure," she said, in a low, tremblingvoice. "You have conducted like a clown and a libertine where allbeheld you making shameful love to a wedded woman! Oh, Betty, Betty,send him away!" she sobbed, burying her head in the black woman'sbreast.
"Silver Heels," I said, choking, "can you not understand that it is Iwho wish to wed you?"
Again the panther blazed in her gray eyes, but her lips were bloodlessas she gasped: "Oh, the insult! Betty--do you hear? He would marry meout of pity! That is twice he has said it!"
"I said it before because I would not have you marry Mr. Butler," saidI, wincing at her scorn. "But I say it now because--because--I loveyou, Silver Heels."
All her horror of me was in her eyes. I saw it and set my teeth hard,hopeless now forever, even of her careless affection.
And so I left her there, with Betty's arms around her, and the hotscorn in her eyes. But as I went away, chilled with self-contempt andmortification, heedless, utterly careless what I did to furtherdegrade myself in her eyes, came black Betty a-waddling to pluck me bythe sleeve and whisper:
"Doan yoh go to wed wif nobody, Mars Ca'digan, suh! D
oan yoh go foh toco't nobody. Mah li'l chile--mah li'l Miss Honey-bee ain't done growedup yet, suh. Bime-by she'll know moh'n she 'specs 'bout gemmens, suh."
But my evil nature was uppermost, and I laughed and bade Betty mindher own affairs, leaving her there grumbling and mumbling about "foolboys" and "li'l fool Honey-bees," till the clatter and din from thecard-room shut her voice from my ears.