The Spy, Volume 2

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “John,” whispered the surgeon, with awakened curiosity, “what do you think?”

  “That your wig and my black head would look the better for a little of Betty Flannagan’s best flour; but it is too late now, and we must fight the battle armed as you see--why, Archibald, you and I look like militiamen flanked by those holiday Frenchmen who have come among us.”

  “Observe,” said Sitgreaves, in increasing wonder, “here comes the army chaplain in his full robes as a Doctor Divinitatis--what can it mean?”

  “An exchange,” said the trooper; “the wounded of Cupid are to meet and settle their accounts with the god, in the way of plighting their faith to suffer from his archery no more.”

  “Oh!” ejaculated the operator, laying his finger on the side of his nose, and for the first time comprehending the case.

  “Yes--oh!” muttered Lawton, in imitation-- when turning suddenly to his comrade, he said fiercely, but in an under tone, “Is it not a crying shame, that a sunshine-hero, and an enemy, should thus be suffered to steal away one of the fairest plants that grows in our soil--a flower fit to be placed in the bosom of any man.”

  “You speak the truth, John; and if he be not more accomodating as a husband, than as a patient, I fear me that the lady will lead a troubled life.”

  “Let her,” said the trooper indignantly; “she has chosen from her country’s enemies, and may she meet with a foreigner’s virtues in her choice.”

  Their further conversation was interrupted by Miss Peyton, who, advancing, acquainted them that they had been invited to grace the nuptials of her eldest niece and Col. Wellmere. The gentlemen bowed in silence at this explanation of what they already understood, and the good spinster, with an inherent love of propriety, went on to add, that the acquaintance was of an old date, and the attachment by no means a sudden thing. To this Lawton merely bowed, but the surgeon, who loved to hold converse with the virgin, replied--

  “That the human mind was differently constituted in different individuals. In some, impressions are vivid and transitory; in others, more deep and lasting:--indeed, there are some philosophers who pretend to trace a connexion between the physical and mental powers of the animal; but for my part, madam, I believe that the one is much influenced by habit and association, and the other subject to the laws of science.”

  Miss Peyton, in her turn, bowed her silent assent to this remark, and retired with dignity, to usher the intended bride into the presence of the company. The hour had arrived when American custom has decreed, that the vows of wedlock must be exchanged; and Sarah, blushing with a variety of emotions, followed her aunt to the withdrawing room. Wellmere sprang to receive the hand that she extended towards him with an averted face, and, for the first time, the English Colonel appeared conscious of the important part that he was to act in the approaching ceremonies. Hitherto his air had been abstracted, and his manner uneasy; but every thing excepting the certainty of his bliss, seemed to vanish at the blaze of loveliness that burst on his sight with the presence of his mistress. All arose from their seats, and the reverend gentleman had already opened the volume in his hand, when the absence of Frances was noticed: Miss Peyton again withdrew in search of her niece, whom she found in her own apartment, and in tears.

  “Come, my love, the ceremony waits but for us,” said the aunt, affectionately entwining her arm in that of her niece; “endeavour to compose yourself, that proper honour may be done to the choice of your sister.”

  “Is he--can he be worthy of her?” cried Frances, in a burst of emotion, and throwing herself into the arms of the spinster.

  “Can he be otherwise?” returned Miss Peyton; “is he not a gentleman?--a gallant soldier, though an unfortunate one? and certainly, my love, one who appears every way qualified to make any woman happy.”

  Frances had given vent to her feelings, and, with an effort, she collected sufficient resolution to venture again to join the expecting party below. But to relieve the embarrassment of this delay, the clergyman had put sundry questions to the bridegroom; one of which was by no means answered to his satisfaction. Wellmere was compelled to acknowledge that he was unprovided with a ring, and to perform the marriage ceremony without one, the divine pronounced to be impossible. His appeal to Mr. Wharton for the propriety of this decision, was answered affirmatively, as it would have been negatively, had the question been put in a manner to lead to such a result. The owner of the Locusts had lost the little energy he possessed, by the blow recently received through his son, and his assent to the objection of the clergyman, was as easily obtained, as his consent to the premature proposals of Wellmere. In this stage of the dilemma, Miss Peyton and Frances appeared. The surgeon of dragoons approached the former, and as he hand ed her to a chair, observed--

  “It appears, Madam, that untoward circumstances have prevented Colonel Wellmere from providing all of the decorations that custom, antiquity, and the canons of the church, have prescribed as indispensable to enter into the honourable state of wedlock.”

  Miss Peyton glanced her quiet eye at the uneasy bridegroom, and perceiving him to be adorned with what she thought sufficient splendour, allowing for the time and the suddenness of the occasion, she turned her look on the speaker with a surprise that demanded an explanation.

  The surgeon understood her wishes, and proceeded at once to gratify them.

  “There is,” he observed, “an opinion prevalent, that the heart lies on the left side of the body, and that the connexion between the members of that side and what may be called the seat of life, is more intimate than that which exists with their opposites. But this is an error that grows out of an ignorance of the scientific arrangement of the human frame. In obedience to this opinion, the fourth finger of the left hand is thought to contain a virtue that belongs to no other of its class, and is encircled, during the solemnization of wedlock, with a cincture or ring, as if to chain that affection to the marriage state, which is best secured by the graces of the female character.” While speaking, the operator laid his hand impressively on his heart, and bowed nearly to the floor as be concluded.

  “I know not, sir, that I rightly understand your meaning,” said Miss Peyton, with dignity, but suffering a slight vermilion to appear on a cheek that had long lost that peculiar charm of youth.

  “A ring, Madam--a ring is wanting for the ceremony.”

  The instant that the surgeon spoke explicitly, the awkwardness of their situation was comprehended. She glanced her eyes at her neices, and in the younger she read a secret exultation that somewhat displeased her; but the countenance of Sarah was suffused with a shame that the considerate aunt well understood. Not for the world would she violate any of the observances of female etiquette. It suggested itself to all the females of the Wharton family, at the same moment, that the wedding ring of their late mother and sister was reposing peacefully amid the rest of her jewellery, in a secret receptacle that had been provided at an early day, to secure the valuables against the predatory inroads of the marauders who roamed through the county. Into this hidden vault, the plate and whatever was most prized made a nightly retreat, and there the ring in question had long lain, forgotten until at this moment. But it was the business of the bridegroom, from time immemorial, to furnish this indispensable to wedlock, and on no account would Miss Peyton do any thing that transcended the usual courtesies of her sex on this solemn occasion; certainly not until sufficient expiation for the offence had been made by a due portion of trouble and disquiet. The spinster, therefore, retained the secret from a regard to decorum, Sarah from feeling, and Frances from both, united to dissatisfaction at the connexion. It was reserved for Dr. Sitgreaves to break the embarrassment of the party by again speaking:

  “If, Madam, a plain ring that once belonged to a sister of my own--” The operator paused a moment, and hem’d once or twice; “if, Madam, a ring of that description might be admitted to this honour, I have one that could be easily produced from my quarters at the “corners,” and I doubt not it
would fit the finger for which it is desired. There is a strong resemblance between--hem-- between my late sister and Miss Wharton in stature and anatomical figure, and the proportions are apt to be observed throughout the whole animal economy.”

  A glance of Miss Peyton’s eye recalled Colonel Wellmere to a sense of his duty, and springing from his chair, he assured the surgeon, that in no way could he impose heavier obligations on him, than by sending for that very ring. The operator bowed a little haughtily, and withdrew to fulfil his promise, by despatching a messenger on the errand. The spinster suffered him to retire; but unwillingness to admit a stranger into the privacy of their domestic arrangements, induced her to follow and tender the services of Cæsar instead of Sitgreaves’ man, who had been offered by Isabella for this duty--her brother, probably from bodily weakness, continuing silent throughout the whole evening. Katy Haynes was accordingly directed to summon the black to the vacant parlour, and thither the spinster and surgeon repaired, to give their several instructions.

  The consent to this sudden union of Sarah and Wellmere, and especially at a time when the life of a member of the family was in such imminent jeopardy, was given from a conviction, that the unsettled state of the country, would probably prevent another opportunity for the lovers meeting, and a secret dread on the part of Mr. Wharton, that the death of his son, might, by hastening his own, leave his remaining children without a protector. But notwithstanding that Miss Peyton had complied with her brother’s wish to profit by the accidental visit of a divine, she had not thought it necessary to blazon the intended nuptials of her niece to the neighbourhood, had even time been allowed: she thought, therefore, that she was now communicating a profound secret to Cæsar and her housekeeper.

  “Cæsar,” she commenced with a smile, “you are now to learn, that your young mistress, Miss Sarah, is to be united to Colonel Wellmere this evening.”

  “No, no--I tink I see em afore,” said Cæsar, laughing and chuckling with inward delight, as he shook his head with conscious satisfaction at his own prescience; “old black man tell when a young lady talk all alone wid a gem’man in a parlour.”

  “Really, Cæsar, I find I have never given you credit for half the observation that you deserve,” said the spinster gravely; “but as you already know on what emergency your services are required, listen to the directions of this gentleman, and take care to observe them strictly.”

  The black turned in quiet submission to the surgeon, who commenced as follows:

  “Cæsar, your mistress has already acquainted you with the important event about to be solemnized within this habitation; but a ring is wanting, and by riding to the mess-house at the Four Corners, and delivering this billet to either sergeant Hollister or Mrs. Elizabeth Flanagan, it will speedily be placed in your possession. On its receipt return hither, and fail not to use diligence in both going and returning, for my patients will shortly require my presence in the hospital, and Captain Singleton already suffers from the want of rest.”

  By this time the surgeon had forgotten every thing but what appertained to his own duties, and rather unceremoniously left the apartment. Curiosity, or perhaps an opposite feeling, delicacy, induced Miss Peyton to glance her eye on the open billet that Sitgreaves had delivered to the black, where she read as follows:--it was addressed to his assistant.

  “If the fever has left Kinder, give him nourishment. Take three ounces more of blood from Watson. Have a search made that the woman Flanagan has left none of her jugs of alcohol in the hospital;--renew the dressings of Johnson, and dismiss Smith to duty. Send the ring, which is pendent from the chain of the watch that I left with you to time the doses, by the bearer.

  “Archibald Sitgreaves, M. D. Surgeon of Dragoons.

  Miss Peyton yielded this singular epistle to the charge of the black, in silent wonder, and withdrew, leaving Katy and Cæsar to arrange the departure of the latter.

  “Cæsar,” said Katy, with imposing solemnity, “put the ring when you get it, in your left pocket, that is nearest your heart; and by no means indivour to try it on your finger, for it is unlucky.”--

  “Try him on a finger?” interrupted the negro, stretching forth his bony knuckles; “tink a Miss Sally’s ring go on old Cæsar finger?”

  “’Tis not consequential whether it goes on or not,” said the housekeeper; “but it is an evil omen to place a marriage ring on the finger of another after wedlock, and of course it may be dangerous before.”

  “I tell you Katy,” cried Cæsar, a little indignantly, “I go fetch a ring, and neber tink to put him on a finger.”

  “Go--go then, Cæsar,” said Katy, suddenly recollecting divers important items in the supper that required her attention; “and hurry back again, and stop not for living soul.”

  With this injunction Cæsar departed, and was soon firmly fixed in the saddle. From his youth, the black, like all of his race, had been a hard rider; but charged with a message of such importance, he moved at first with becoming dignity, and bending under the weight of sixty winters, his African blood had lost some of its native heat. The night was dark, and the wind whistled through the vale with the chilling dreariness of the blasts of November. By the time Cæsar reached the grave-yard, that had so lately received the body of the elder Birch, all the horrors of his situation began to burst on the mind of the old man, and he threw around him many a fearful glance, in momentary expectation of seeing something superhuman. There was barely light sufficient to discern a being of earthly mould emerging into the highway, and apparently from the graves of the dead. It is in vain that philosophy and reason contend with our fears and early impressions, but Cæsar had neither to offer him their frail support. He was, however, well mounted on a coach-horse of Mr. Wharton’s, and clinging to the back of the animal with instinctive skill, he abandoned the rein to the pleasure of the beast. Hillocks, woods, rocks, fences and houses flew by him with the rapidity of lightning, and the black had just began to think where and on what business it was, that he was riding in this headlong manner, when he reached the place where the two roads met, and the “Hotel Flanagan” stood in all its dilapidated simplicity. The sight of a cheerful fire through its windows, first gave Cæsar a pledge that he had reached the habitation of man, and with it came all his dread of the bloody Virginians;--his duty must, however, be done, and dismounting, he fastened the foaming animal to a fence, and approached the window with cautious steps, to listen and reconnoitre.

  Before a blazing fire sat sergeant Hollister and Betty Flanagan, enjoying themselves over a liberal donation from the stores of the washerwoman.

  “I tell yee sargeant, dear,” said Betty, removing the mug from her mouth, “’tis no reasonable to think it was any thing more than the pidlar himself; sure now, where was the smell of sulphur, and the wings, and the tail, and the cloven foot?--besides sargeant, its no dacent to tell a lone famale that she had Beelzeboob for a bed-fellow.”

  “It matters but little Mrs. Flanagan, provided you escape his talons and fangs hereafter,” returned the veteran, following his remark by a heavy potation.

  Cæsar heard enough to convince him, that danger to himself from this pair was but little to be apprehended. His teeth already began to chatter from cold and terror, and the sight of the comfort within, stimulated him greatly to adventure to enter. He made his approaches with proper caution, and knocked with extreme humility at the door. The appearance of Hollister with a drawn sword, roughly demanding who was without, contributed in no degree to the restoration of his faculties; but fear itself lent him power to explain his errand.

  “Advance,” said the sergeant with military promptness, and throwing a look of close scrutiny on the black, as he brought him to the light; “advance, and deliver your despatches:--but stop, have you the countersign?”

  “I don’t tink a know what he be,” said the black, shaking in his shoes.

  “Who ordered you on this duty did you say?”

  “A tall massa, with a spectacle,” returned Cæsar; “
he came a doctering a Capt. Singleton.”

  “’Twas Doctor Sitgreaves; he never knows the countersign himself--now, blackey, had it been Captain Lawton, he would not have sent you here close to a sentinel without the countersign; for you might get a pistol bullet through your head, and that would be cruel to you, for although you be black, I am none of them who thinks niggurs haven’t no souls.”

  “Sure a nagur has as much sowl as a white,” said Betty; “come hither, ould man, and warm that shivering carcass of yeers by the blaze of this fire. I’m sure a Guinea nagur loves heat as much as a souldier loves his drop.”