VII
AFTERMATH
Cato at my bedside with basin, towel, and razor, a tub of water on thefloor, and the sun shining on my chamber wall. These, and a stale tasteon my tongue, greeted me as I awoke.
First to wash teeth and mouth with orris, then to bathe, half asleepstill; and yet again to lie a-thinking in my arm-chair, robed in abanyan, cheeks all suds and nose sniffing the scented water in thechin-basin which I held none too steady; and I said, peevishly, "What afool a man is to play the fool! Do you hear me, Cato?"
He said that he marked my words, and I bade him hold his tongue and tellme the hour.
"Nine, suh."
"Then I'll sleep again," I muttered, but could not, and after themorning draught felt better. Chocolate and bread, new butter and neweggs, put me in a kinder humor. Cato, burrowing in my boxes, drew out asoft, new suit of doeskin with new points, new girdle, and newmoccasins.
"Oh," said I, watching him, "am I to go forest-running to-day?"
"Mars' Varick gwine ride de boun's," he announced, cheerfully.
"Ride to hounds?" I repeated, astonished. "In May?"
"No, suh! Ride de boun's, suh."
"Oh, ride the boundaries?"
"Yaas, suh."
"Oh, very well. What time does he start?"
"'Bout noontide, suh."
The old man strove to straighten my short queue, but found it hopeless,so tied it close and dusted on the French powder.
"Curly head, curly head," he muttered to himself. "Dess lak yo'pap's!... an' Miss Dorry's. Law's sakes, dishyere hair wuf mo'neight dollar."
"You think my hair worth more than eight dollars?" I asked, amused.
"H'it sho'ly am, suh."
"But why eight dollars, Cato?"
"Das what the redcoats say; eight dollars fo' one rebel scalp, suh."
I sat up, horrified. "Who told you that?" I demanded.
"All de gemmen done say so--Mars' Varick, Mars' Johnsing, Cap'inButler."
"Bah! they said it to plague you, Cato," I muttered; but as I said it Isaw the old slave's eyes and knew that he had told the truth.
Sobered, I dressed me in my forest dress, absently lacing thehunting-shirt and tying knee-points, while the old man polished hatchetand knife and slipped them into the beaded scabbards swinging oneither hip.
Then I went out, noiselessly descending the stairway, and came allunawares upon the young folk and the children gathered on the sunnyporch, busy with their morning tasks.
They neither saw nor heard me; I leaned against the doorway to see thepretty picture at my ease. The children, Sam and Benny, sat all hunchedup, scowling over their books.
Close to a fluted pillar, Dorothy Varick reclined in a chair,embroidering her initials on a pair of white silk hose, using theRosemary stitch. And as her delicate fingers flew, her gold thimbleflashed like a fire-fly in the sun.
At her feet, cross-legged, sat Cecile Butler, velvet eyes intent on asilken petticoat which she was embroidering with pale sprays of flowers.
Ruyven and Harry, near by, dipped their brushes into pans of brilliantFrench colors, the one to paint marvellous birds on a silken fan, theother to decorate a pair of white satin shoes with little pink blossomsnodding on a vine.
Loath to disturb them, I stood smiling, silent; and presently Dorothy,without raising her eyes, called on Samuel to read his morning lesson,and he began, breathing heavily:
"I know that God is wroth at me For I was born in sin; My heart is so exceeding vile Damnation dwells therein; Awake I sin, asleep I sin, I sin with every breath, When Adam fell he went to hell And damned us all to death!"
He stopped short, scowling, partly from fright, I think.
"That teaches us to obey God," said Ruyven, severely, dipping his brushinto the pink paint-cake.
"What's the good of obeying God if we're all to go to hell?" askedCecile.
"We're not all going to hell," said Dorothy, calmly. "God saves Hiselect."
"Who are the elect?" demanded Samuel, faintly hopeful.
"Nobody knows," replied Cecile, grimly; "but I guess--"
"Benny," broke in Dorothy, "read your lesson! Cecile, stop yourchatter!" And Benny, cheerful and sceptical, read his lines:
"When by thpectators I behold What beauty doth adorn me, Or in a glath when I behold How thweetly God did form me. Hath God thuch comeliness bethowed And on me made to dwell?-- What pity thuch a pretty maid Ath I thoud go to hell!"
And Benny giggled.
"Benjamin," said Cecile, in an awful voice, "are you not terrified atwhat you read?"
"Huh!" said Benny, "I'm not a 'pretty maid'; I'm a boy."
"It's all the same, little dunce!" insisted Cecile.
"Doeth God thay little boyth are born to be damned?" he asked, uneasily.
"No, no," interrupted Dorothy; "God saves His elect, I tell you. Don'tyou remember what He says?
"'You sinners are, and such a share As sinners may expect; Such you shall have; for I do save None but my own elect.'
"And you see," she added, confidently, "I think we all are elect, andthere's nothing to be afraid of. Benny, stop sniffing!"
"Are you sure?" asked Cecile, gloomily.
Dorothy, stitching serenely, answered: "I am sure God is fair."
"Oh, everybody knows that," observed Cecile. "What we want to know is,what does He mean to do with us."
"If we're good," added Samuel, fervently.
"He will damn us, perhaps," said Ruyven, sucking his paint-brush andlooking critically at his work.
"Damn us? Why?" inquired Dorothy, raising her eyes.
"Oh, for all that sin we were born in," said Ruyven, absently.
"But that's not fair," said Dorothy.
"Are you smarter than a clergyman?" sneered Ruyven.
Dorothy spread the white silk stocking over one knee. "I don't know,"she sighed, "sometimes I think I am."
"Pride," commented Cecile, complacently. "Pride is sin, so there youare, Dorothy."
"There you are, Dorothy!" said I, laughing from the doorway; and, "Oh,Cousin Ormond!" they all chorused, scrambling up to greet me.
"Have a care!" cried Dorothy. "That is my wedding petticoat! Oh, he'sslopped water on it! Benny, you dreadful villain!"
"No, he hasn't," said I, coming out to greet her and Cecile, with Samueland Benny hanging to my belt, and Harry fast hold of one arm. "Andwhat's all this about wedding finery? Is there a bride in thisvicinity?"
Dorothy held out a stocking. "A bride's white silken hose," she said,complacently.
"Embroidered on the knee with the bride's initials," added Cecile,proudly.
"Yours, Dorothy?" I demanded.
"Yes, but I shall not wear them for ages and ages. I told you so lastnight."
"But I thought Dorothy had best make ready," remarked Cecile. "Dorothyis to carry that fan and wear those slippers and this petticoat and thewhite silk stockings when she weds Sir George."
"Sir George who?" I asked, bluntly.
"Why, Sir George Covert. Didn't you know?"
I looked at Dorothy, incensed without a reason.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, ungraciously.
"Why didn't you ask me?" she replied, a trifle hurt.
I was silent.
Cecile said: "I hope that Dorothy will marry him soon. I want to see howshe looks in this petticoat."
"Ho!" sneered Harry, "you just want to wear one like it and be abridesmaid and primp and give yourself airs. I know you!"
"Sir George Covert is a good fellow," remarked Ruyven, with apatronizing nod at Dorothy; "but I always said he was too old for you.You should see how gray are his temples when he wears no powder."
"He has fine eyes," murmured Cecile.
"He's too old; he's forty," repeated Ruyven.
"His legs are shapely," added Cecile, sentimentally.
Dorothy gave a despairing upward glance at me. "Are
these children notsilly?" she said, with a little shrug.
"We may be children, and we may be silly," said Ruyven, "but if we wereyou we'd wed our cousin Ormond."
"All of you together?" inquired Dorothy.
"You know what I mean," he snapped.
"Why don't you?" demanded Harry, vaguely, twitching Dorothy by theapron.
"Do what?"
"Wed our cousin Ormond."
"But he has not asked me," she said, smiling.
Harry turned to me and took my arm affectionately in his.
"You will ask her, won't you?" he murmured. "She's very nice when shechooses."
"She wouldn't have me," I said, laughing.
"Oh yes, she would; and then you need never leave us, which would bepleasant for all, I think. Won't you ask her, cousin?"
"You ask her," I said.
"Dorothy," he broke out, eagerly. "You will wed him, won't you? Ourcousin Ormond says he will if you will. And I'll tell Sir George thatit's just a family matter, and, besides, he's too old--"
"Yes, tell Sir George that," sneered Ruyven, who had listened in anembarrassment that certainly Dorothy had not betrayed. "You're a greatfool, Harry. Don't you know that when people want to wed they ask eachother's permission to ask each other's father, and then their fathersask each other, and then they ask each--"
"Other!" cried Dorothy, laughing deliciously. "Oh, Ruyven, Ruyven, youcertainly will be the death of me!"
"All the same," said Harry, sullenly, "our cousin wishes to wed you."
"Do you?" asked Dorothy, raising her amused eyes to me.
"I fear I come too late," I said, forcing a smile I was not inclined to.
"Ah, yes; too late," she sighed, pretending a doleful mien.
"Why?" demanded Harry, blankly.
Dorothy shook her head. "Sir George would never permit me such aliberty. If he would, our cousin Ormond and I could wed at once; you seeI have my bride's stockings here; Cecile could do my hair, Sammy carrymy prayer-book, Benny my train, Ruyven read the service--"
Harry, flushing at the shout of laughter, gave Dorothy a dark look,turned and eyed me, then scowled again at Dorothy.
"All the same," he said, slowly, "you're a great goose not to wedhim.... And you'll be sorry ... when he's dead!"
At this veiled prophecy of my approaching dissolution, all were silentsave Dorothy and Ruyven, whose fresh laughter rang out peal on peal.
"Laugh," said Harry, gloomily; "but you won't laugh when he's killed inthe war, ... and scalped, too."
Ruyven, suddenly sober, looked up at me. Dorothy bent over herneedle-work and examined it attentively.
"Are you going to the war?" asked Cecile, plaintively.
"Of course he's going; so am I," replied Ruyven, striking a carelesspose against a pillar.
"On which side, Ruyven?" inquired Dorothy, sorting her silks.
"On my cousin's side, of course," he said, uneasily.
"Which side is that?" asked Cecile.
Confused, flushing painfully, the boy looked at me; and I rescued him,saying, "We'll talk that over when we ride bounds this afternoon. Ruyvenand I understand each other, don't we, Ruyven?"
He gave me a grateful glance. "Yes," he said, shyly.
Sir George Covert, a trifle pallid, but bland and urbane, strolled outto the porch, saluting us gracefully. He paused beside Dorothy, whoslipped her needle through her work and held out her hand for himto salute.
"Are you also going to the wars?" she asked, with a friendly smile.
"Where are they?" he inquired, pretending a fierce eagerness. "Point outsome wars and I'll go to 'em post haste!"
"They're all around us," said Sammy, solemnly.
"Then we'd best get to horse and lose no time, Mr. Ormond," he observed,passing his arm through mine. In a lower voice he added: "Headache?"
"Oh no," I said, hastily.
"Lucky dog. Sir Lupus lies as though struck by lightning. I'm alla-quiver, too. A man of my years is a fool to do such things. But I do,Ormond, I do; ass that I am. Do you ride bounds with Sir Lupus?"
"If he desires it," I said.
"Then I'll see you when you pass my villa on the Vlaie, where you'llfind a glass of wine waiting. Do you ride, Miss Dorothy?"
"Yes," she said.
A stable lad brought his horse to the porch. He took leave of Dorothywith a grace that charmed even me; yet, in his bearing towards her Icould detect the tender pride he had in her, and that left me cold andthoughtful.
All liked him, though none appeared to regard him exactly as a kinsman,nor accorded him that vague shade of intimacy which is felt in kinship,not in comradeship alone, and which they already accorded me.
Dorothy walked with him to the stockade gate, the stable lad followingwith his horse; and I saw them stand there in low-voiced conversation,he lounging and switching at the weeds with his riding-crop; she, headbent, turning the gold thimble over and over between her fingers. And Iwondered what they were saying.
Presently he mounted and rode away, a graceful, manly figure in thesaddle, and not turning like a fop to blow a kiss at his betrothed, norspurring his horse to show his skill--for which I coldly respected him.
Harry, Cecile, and the children gathered their paints and books andwent into the house, demanding that I should follow.
"Dorothy is beckoning us," observed Ruyven, gathering up his paints.
I looked towards her and she raised her hand, motioning us to come.
"About father's watch," she said. "I have just consulted Sir George, andhe says that neither I nor Ruyven have won, seeing that Ruyven used thecoin he did--"
"Very well," cried Ruyven, triumphantly. "Then let us match dates again.Have you a shilling, Cousin Ormond?"
"I'll throw hunting-knives for it," suggested Dorothy.
"Oh no, you won't," retorted her brother, warily.
"Then I'll race you to the porch."
He shook his head.
She laughed tauntingly.
"I'm not afraid," said Ruyven, reddening and glancing at me.
"Then I'll wrestle you."
Stung by the malice in her smile, Ruyven seized her.
"No, no! Not in these clothes!" she said, twisting to free herself."Wait till I put on my buckskins. Don't use me so roughly, you tear mylaced apron. Oh! you great booby!" And with a quick cry of resentmentshe bent, caught her brother, and swung him off his feet clean over herleft shoulder slap on the grass.
"Silly!" she said, cheeks aflame. "I have no patience to be mauled."Then she laughed uncertainly to see him lying there, too astonishedto get up.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Who taught you that hold?" he demanded, indignantly, scrambling to hisfeet. "I thought I alone knew that."
"Why, Captain Campbell taught you last week and ... I was at thewindow ... sewing," she said, demurely.
Ruyven looked at me, disgusted, muttering, "If I could learn things theway she does, I'd not waste time at King's College, I can tell you."
"You're not going to King's College, anyhow," said his sister. "York isfull o' loyal rebels and Tory patriots, and father says he'll be damnedif you can learn logic where all lack it."
She held out her hand, smiling. "No malice, Ruyven, and we'll forgiveeach other."
Her brother met the clasp; then, hands in his pockets, followed us backthrough the stockade towards the porch. I was pleased to see that hispride had suffered no more than his body from the fall he got, whichaugured well for a fair-minded manhood.
As we approached the house I heard hollow noises within, like groans;and I stopped, listening intently.
"It is Sir Lupus snoring," observed Ruyven. "He will wake soon; I thinkI had best call Tulip," he added, exchanging a glance with his sister;and entered the house calling, "Cato! Cato! Tulip! Tulip! I say!"
"Who is Tulip?" I asked of Dorothy, who lingered at the thresholdfolding her embroidery into a bundle.
"Tulip? Oh, Tulip cooks for us--black as a June crow, cousin. She i
svoodoo."
"Evil-eye and all?" I asked, smiling.
Dorothy looked up shyly. "Don't you believe in the evil-eye?"
I was not perfectly sure whether I did or not, but I said "No."
"To believe is not necessarily to be afraid," she added, quickly.
Now, had I believed in the voodoo craft, or in the power of an evil-eye,I should also have feared. Those who have ever witnessed a sea-islandwitch-dance can bear me out, and I think a man may dread a hag and be nocoward either. But distance and time allay the memories of such uncannyworks. I had forgotten whether I was afraid or not. So I said, "Thereare no witches, Dorothy."
She looked at me, dreamily. "There are none ... that I fear."
"Not even Catrine Montour?" I asked, to plague her.
"No; it turns me cold to think of her running in the forest, but I amnot afraid."
She stood pensive in the doorway, rolling and unrolling her embroidery.Harry and Cecile came out, flourishing alder poles from which lines andhooks dangled. Samuel and Benny carried birchen baskets andshallow nets.
"If we're to have Mohawk chubbs," said Cecile, "you had best come withus, Dorothy. Ruyven has a book and has locked himself in the play-room."
But Dorothy shook her head, saying that she meant to ride the boundarywith us; and the children, after vainly soliciting my company, troopedoff towards that same grist-mill in the ravine below the bridge which Ihad observed on my first arrival at Varick Manor.
"I am wondering," said Dorothy, "how you mean to pass the morning. Youhad best steer wide of Sir Lupus until he has breakfasted."
"I've a mind to sleep," I said, guiltily.
"I think it would be pleasant to ride together. Will you?" she asked;then, laughing, she said, frankly, "Since you have come I do nothing butfollow you.... It is long since I have had a young companion, ... and,when I think that you are to leave us, it spurs me to lose no momentthat I shall regret when you are gone."
No shyness marred the pretty declaration of her friendship, and ittouched me the more keenly perhaps. The confidence in her eyes, liftedso sweetly, waked the best in me; and if my response was stumbling, itwas eager and warm, and seemed to please her.
"Tulip! Tulip!" she cried, "I want my dinner! Now!" And to me, "We willeat what they give us; I shall dress in my buckskins and we will ridethe boundary and register the signs, and Sir Lupus and the others canmeet us at Sir George Covert's pleasure-house on the Vlaie. Does itplease you, Cousin George?"
I looked into her bright eyes and said that it pleased me more than Idared say, and she laughed and ran up-stairs, calling back to me that Ishould order our horses and tell Cato to tell Tulip to fetch meat andclaret to the gun-room.
I whistled a small, black stable lad and bade him bring our mounts tothe porch, then wandered at random down the hallway, following my nose,which scented the kitchen, until I came to a closed door.
Behind that door meats were cooking--I could take my oath o' that--so Iopened the door and poked my nose in.
"Tulip," I said, "come here!"
An ample black woman, aproned and turbaned, looked at me through thesteam of many kettles, turned and cuffed the lad at the spit, dealt afew buffets among the scullions, and waddled up to me, bobbing andcurtsying.
"Aunt Tulip," I said, gravely, "are you voodoo?"
"Folks says ah is, Mars' Ormon'," she said, in her soft Georgia accent.
"Oh, they do, do they? Look at me, Aunt Tulip. What do my eyes tell youof me?"
Her dark eyes, fixed on mine, seemed to change, and I thought littleglimmers of pure gold tinted the iris, like those marvellous restlesstints in a gorgeous bubble. Certainly her eyes were strange, almostcompelling, for I felt a faint rigidity in my cheeks and my eyesreturned directly to hers as at an unspoken command.
"Can you read me, aunty?" I asked, trying to speak easily, yet feelingthe stiffness growing in my cheeks.
"Ah sho' can," she said, stepping nearer.
"What is my fate, then?"
"Ah 'spec' yo' gwine fine yo'se'f in love," she said, softly; and Istrove to smile with ever-stiffening lips.
A little numbness that tingled spread over me; it was pleasant; I didnot care to withdraw my eyes. Presently the tightness in my facerelaxed, I moved my lips, smiling vaguely.
"In love," I repeated.
"Yaas, Mars' Ormon'."
"When?"
"'Fore yo' know h'it, honey."
"Tell me more."
"'Spec' ah done tole yo' too much, honey." She looked at me steadily."Pore Mars' Gawge," she murmured, "'spec' ah done tole yo' too much. Butit sho' am a-comin', honey, an' h'it gwine come pow'ful sudden, an' h'itgwine mek yo' pow'ful sick."
"Am I to win her?"
"No, honey."
"Is there no hope, Aunt Tulip?"
She hesitated as though at fault; I felt the tenseness in my face oncemore; then, for one instant, I lost track of time; for presently I foundmyself standing in the hallway watching Sir Lupus through the open doorof the gun-room, and Sir Lupus was very angry.
"Dammy!" he roared, "am I to eat my plate? Cato! I want my porridge!"
Confused, I stood blinking at him, and he at table, bibbed like a babe,mad as a hornet, hammering on the cloth with a great silver spoon andbellowing that they meant to starve him.
"I don't remember how I came here," I began, then flushed furiously atmy foolishness.
"Remember!" he shouted. "I don't remember anything! I don't want toremember anything! I want my porridge! I want it now! Damnation!"
Cato, hastening past me with the steaming dish, was received with ayelp. But at last Sir Lupus got his spoon into the mess and a portion ofthe mess into his mouth, and fell to gobbling and growling, paying me nofurther attention. So I closed the door of the gun-room on the greatpatroon and walked to the foot of the stairway.
A figure in soft buckskins was descending--a blue-eyed, graceful youthwho hailed me with a gesture.
"Dorothy!" I said, fascinated.
Her fringed hunting-shirt fell to her knees, the short shoulder-capefrom throat to breast; gay fringe fluttered from shoulder to wrist, andfrom thigh to ankle; and her little scarlet-quilled moccasins wentpat-patter-pat as she danced down the stairway and stood before me,sweeping her cap from her golden head in exaggerated salute.
She seemed smaller in her boy's dress, fuller, too, and rounder of neckand limb; and the witchery of her beauty left me silent--a tribute shefound delightful, for she blushed very prettily and bowed again in dumbacknowledgment of the homage all too evident in my eyes.
Cato came with a dish of meat and a bottle of claret; and we sat downon the stairs, punishing bottle and platter till neither drop norscrap remained.
"Don't leave these dishes for Sir Lupus to fall over!" she cried toCato, then sprang to her feet and was out of the door before I couldmove, whistling for our horses.
As I came out the horses arrived, and I hastened forward to put her intoher saddle, but she was up and astride ere I reached the ground, coollygathering bridle and feeling with her soft leather toes forthe stirrups.
Astonished, for I had never seen a girl so mounted, I climbed to mysaddle and wheeled my mare, following her out across the lawn, throughthe stockade and into the road, where I pushed my horse forward andranged up beside her at a gallop, just as she reached the bridge.
"See!" she cried, with a sweep of her arm, "there are the children downthere fishing under the mill." And she waved her small cap of silverfox, calling in a clear, sweet voice the Indian cry of triumph, "Koue!"
The Maid-At-Arms: A Novel Page 9