XVIII
Miss Gainor being busy at her toilette, Schmidt was received at the HillFarm by the black page, in red plush for contrast, and shown up to hisroom. He usually wore clothes of simple character and left the changingfashions to others. But this time he dressed as he did rarely, and camedown with powdered hair, in maroon-colored velvet with enameled buttons,ruffles at the wrists, and the full lace neck-gear still known as aSteenkirk.
Miss Gainor envied him the gold buckles of the broidered garters andshoes, and made her best courtesy to the stately figure which bent lowbefore her.
"They are late," she said. "Go and speak to Margaret in the garden." Hefound her alone under a great tulip-tree.
"_Ach!_" he cried, "you are looking better. You were pale." She rosewith a glad welcome as he saw and wondered. "How fine we are, Pearl!"
"Are we not? But Aunt Gainor would have it. I must courtesy, I suppose."
The dress was a compromise. There were still the gray silks, theunderskirt, open wider than common in front, a pale sea-green petticoat,and, alas! even powder--very becoming it seemed to the German gentleman.I am helpless to describe the prettiness of it. Aunt Gainor had anartist's eye, though she herself delighted in too gorgeous attire.
He gave Margaret the home news and his message from Rene, and no; shewas not yet to come to town. It was too hot, and not very healthy thissummer.
"Why did not the vicomte write?" she said with some hesitation. "Thatwould have been nicer."
"_Ach, guter Himmel!_ Young men do not write to young women."
"But among Friends we are more simple."
"_Ach_, Friends--and in this gown! Shall we be of two worlds? That mighthave its convenience."
"Thou art naughty, sir," she said, and they went in.
There was Colonel Lennox and his wife, whom Schmidt had not met, andJosiah. "You know Mrs. Byrd, Mr. Schmidt? Mrs. Eager Howard, may Ipresent to you Mr. Schmidt?" This was the Miss Chew who won the heart ofthe victor of the Cowpens battle; and last came Jefferson, tall, meager,red-cheeked, and wearing no powder, a lean figure in black velvet, on avisit to the city.
"There were only two good noses," said Gainor next day to a woman withthe nose of a pug dog--"mine and that man Schmidt's--Schmidt, with anose like a hawk and a jaw most predacious."
For mischief she must call Mr. Jefferson "Excellency," for had he notbeen governor of his State?
He bowed, laughing. "Madame, I have no liking for titles. Not even thosewhich you confer."
"Oh, but when you die, sir," cried Mrs. Howard, "and you want to readyour title clear to mansions in the skies?"
"I shall want none of them; and there are no mansions in the skies."
"And no skies, sir, I suppose," laughed Mrs. Byrd. "Poor Watts!"
"In your sense none," he returned. "How is De Courval?"
"Oh, better; much better."
"He seems to get himself talked about," said Mrs. Howard. "A fine youngfellow, too."
"You should set your cap for him, Tacy," said Gainor to the blondbeauty, Mrs. Lennox.
"It was set long ago for my Colonel," she cried.
"I am much honored," said her husband, bowing.
"She was Dr. Franklin's last love-affair," cried Gainor. "How is that,Tacy Lennox?"
"Fie, Madam! He was dying in those days, and, yes, I loved him. Thereare none like him nowadays."
"I never thought much of his nose," said Gainor, amid gay laughter; andthey went to dinner, the Pearl quietly attentive, liking it well, andstill better when Colonel Howard turned to chat with her and found hermerry and shyly curious concerning the great war she was too young toremember well, and in regard to the men who fought and won. Josiah, nextto Mrs. Lennox, contributed contradictions, and Pickering was silent,liking better the company of men.
At dusk, having had their Madeira, they rode away, leaving only Margaretand Schmidt. The evening talk was quiet, and the girl, reluctant, wassent to bed early.
"I have a pipe for you," said Gainor. "Come out under the trees. Howwarm it is!"
"You had a queer party," said Schmidt, who knew her well, and judgedbetter than many her true character.
"Yes; was it not? But the women were to your liking, I am sure."
"Certainly; but why Josiah, and what mischief are you two after?"
"I? Mischief, sir?"
"Yes; you do not like him. You never have him here to dine if you canhelp it."
"No; but now I am trying to keep him out of mischief, and to-day heinvited himself to dine."
"Well!" said Schmidt, blowing great rings of smoke.
"General Washington was here yesterday. His horse cast a shoe, and hemust needs pay me a visit. Oh, he was honest about it. He looked tiredand aged. I shall grow old; but aged, sir, never. He is deaf, too. Ihope he may not live to lose his mind. I thought of Johnson's linesabout Marlborough."
"I do not know them. What are they?"
"From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires, a driv'ler and a show."
"Yes," said Schmidt thoughtfully--"yes; that is the ending I most shouldfear."
"He is clear-headed enough to-day; but the men around him think toomuch of their own interests, and he of his country alone."
"It may be better with this new cabinet."
"No; there will be less head."
"And more heart, I hope," said Schmidt.
"I could cry when I think of that man's life."
"Yes, it is sad enough; but suppose," said Schmidt, "we return toJosiah."
"Well, if you must have it, Josiah has one honest affection outside of alove-affair with Josiah--Margaret, of course."
"Yes; and what more?"
"He thinks she should be married, and proposes to arrange the matter."
The idea of Uncle Josiah as a matchmaker filled the German with comicdelight. He broke into Gargantuan laughter. "I should like to hear hisplan of campaign."
"Oh, dear Aunt Gainor," cried a voice from an upper window, "what is thejoke? Tell me, or I shall come down and find out."
"Go to bed, minx!" shouted Miss Gainor. "Mr. Schmidt is going to bemarried, and I am to be bridesmaid. To bed with you!"
"Fie, for shame, Aunt! He will tell me to-morrow." The white figuredisappeared from the window.
"Oh, Josiah is set on it--really set on it, and you know hispossibilities of combining folly with obstinacy."
"Yes, I know. And who is the happy man?"
"The Vicomte de Courval, please."
Schmidt whistled low. "I beg your pardon, Mistress Gainor. Cannot youstop him? The fool! What does he propose to do?"
"I do not know. He has an odd admiration for De Courval, and that isstrange, for he never contradicts him."
"The admiration of a coward for a brave man--I have known that more thanonce. He will do Heaven knows what, and end in making mischief enough."
"I have scared him a little. He talked, the idiot, about his will, andwhat he would or would not do. As if that would help, or as if the dearchild cares or would care. I said I had money to spare at need. He willsay nothing for a while. I do not mean to be interfered with. I told himso."
"Did you, indeed?"
"I did."
"Mistress Gainor, you had better keep your own hands off and let thingsalone. Josiah would be like an elephant in a rose garden."
"And I like--"
"A good, kindly woman about to make a sad mistake. You do not know themother's deep-seated prejudices, nor yet of what trouble lies like ashadow on Rene's life. I should not dare to interfere."
"What is it?" she said, at once curious and anxious.
"Mistress Gainor, you are to be trusted, else you would go your way. Isnot that so?"
"Yes; but I am reasonable and Margaret is dear to me. I like the vicomteand, as for his mother, she thinks me a kind, rough old woman; and forher nonsense about rank and blood, stuff! The girl's blood is as goodas hers."
"No doubt; but let it alone. And now I think you ought to he
ar his storyand I mean to tell it." And sitting in the darkness, he told her ofAvignon and Carteaux and the real meaning of the duel and how the matterwould go on again some day, but how soon fate alone could determine. Shelistened, appalled at the tragic story which had come thus fatefullyfrom a far-away land into the life of a quiet Quaker family.
"It is terrible and sad," she said. "And he has spoken to no one but youof this tragedy? It must be known to many."
"The death, yes. Carteaux's share in it, no. He was an unknown young_avocat_ at the time."
"How reticent young De Courval must be! It is singular at his age."
"He had no reason to talk of it; he is a man older than his years. Hehad in fact his own good reason for desiring not to drive this villainout of his reach. He is a very resolute person. If he loves this dearchild, he will marry her, if a dozen mothers stand in the way."
"There will be two. I see now why Mary Swanwick is always sendingMargaret to me or to Darthea Wynne. I think the maid cares for him."
"Ah, my dear Miss Gainor, if I could keep them apart for a year, Ishould like it. God knows where the end will be. Suppose this fellowwere to kill him! That they will meet again is sadly sure, if I know DeCourval."
"You are right," she returned. "But if, Mr. Schmidt, this shadow did notlie across his path, would it please you? Would you who have done somuch for him--would you wish it?"
"With all my heart. But let it rest here, and let time and fate havetheir way."
"I will," she said, rising. "It is cool. I must go in. It is a sadtangle, and those two mothers! I am sometimes glad that I never marriedand have no child. Good night. I fear that I shall dream of it."
"I shall have another pipe before I follow you. We are three oldcupids," he added, laughing. "We had better go out of business."
"There is a good bit of cupidity about one of us, sir."
"A not uncommon quality," laughed Schmidt.
Pleased with her jest, she went away, saying, "Tom will take care ofyou."
To the well-concealed satisfaction of the vicomtesse, it was settledthat Margaret's health required her to remain all summer at the Hill;but when June was over, De Courval was able to ride, and why not toChestnut Hill? And although Gainor never left them alone, it wasimpossible to refuse permission for him to ride with them.
They explored the country far and wide with Aunt Gainor on her greatstallion, a rash rider despite her years. Together they saw White Marshand the historic lines of Valley Forge, and heard of Hugh Wynne's ride,and, by good luck, met General Wayne one day and were told the story ofthat dismal winter when snow was both foe and friend. Aunt Gainor rodein a riding-mask, and the Quaker bonnet was worn no longer, wherefore,the code of lovers' signals being ingeniously good, there needed nocupids old or young. The spring of love had come and the summer wouldfollow in nature's course. Yet always Rene felt that until his dark debtwas paid he could not speak.
Therefore, sometimes he refrained from turning his horse toward the Hilland went to see his mother, now again, to her pleasure, with Darthea, orelse he rode with Schmidt through that bit of Holland on the Neck andsaw sails over the dikes and the flour windmills turning in the breeze.Schmidt, too, kept him busy, and he visited Baltimore and New York, andfished or shot.
"You are well enough now. Let us fence again," said Schmidt, and oncemore he was made welcome by the _emigres_ late in the evening when noothers came.
He would rarely touch the foils, but "_Mon Dieu_, Schmidt," said deMalerive, "he has with the pistol skill."
Du Vallon admitted it. But: "_Mon ami_, it is no weapon for gentlemen.The Jacobins like it. There is no tierce or quarte against a bullet."
"Do they practise with the pistol here?"
"No. Carteaux, thy lucky friend, ah, very good,--of the best with thefoil,--but no shot." Rene smiled, and Schmidt understood.
"Can you hit that, Rene?" he said, taking from his pocket the ace ofclubs, for playing-cards were often used as visiting-cards, the backsbeing white, and other material not always to be had.
Rene hit the edge of the ace with a ball, and then the center. The gaycrowd applauded, and Du Vallon pleased to make a little jest in English,wished it were a Jacobin club, and, again merry, they liked the jest.
The Red City: A Novel of the Second Administration of President Washington Page 20