CHAPTER XII.
PRINCESS ANNE FOLKS.
The Washington Tavern, or, rather, the brick sidewalk which came up toits doors, and was the lounging-place for all the grown loiterers inPrincess Anne, had been in the greatest activity all that Saturdayafternoon, since it was reported by Jack Wonnell, who set himself to bea spy on Meshach's errand, that the steeple-hat had disappeared in thebroad mansion of Judge Daniel Custis.
Jack Wonnell had a worn bell-crown on his head, exposed to all kinds ofweather, as he was in the habit of fishing in these beaver-hats, andnever owned an umbrella in his life. He lived near Meshach, in the oldpart of Princess Anne, near the bridge, and was the subject of themoney-lender's scorn and contempt, as tending to make a mutualeccentricity ridiculous. Milburn had been willing to be hated for hishat, but Jack Wonnell made all unseasonable hats laughable, the more sothat he was nearly as old a wearer of his bell-crowns as Milburn of thesteeple-top. Although he had no such reasons of reverence and sternconsistency as his rich neighbor, he seemed to have, in his own mind,and in plain people's, a better defence for violating the standard tasteof dress.
The people said that Jack Wonnell, being a poor man, could not buy allthe fashions, and was merely wearing out a bargain; that he knew he wasridiculous, and set no such conceit on his absurdity as that grimMilburn; and they rather enjoyed his playing the Dromio to thatAntipholus, and turning into farce the comedy of Meshach's error.
Jack Wonnell had partly embraced his bargain by the example of Meshach.A frivolous, unambitious, childish fellow, amusing people, obligingpeople, running errands, driving stage, gardening, fishing, playing withthe lads, courting poor white bound girls, incontinent, inoffensive, hehad been impelled to bid off his lot of old hats by Jimmy Phoebussaying:
"Jack, dirt cheap! Last you all your life! Better hats than old MeshachMilburn's. You'll drive his'n out of town."
To his infinite amusement and dignity, his appearance in the bell-crownhats attracted the severe regard of Milburn, and set the little town ona grin. The joke went on till Jimmy Phoebus, Judge Custis, and someothers prompted Jack Wonnell, with the promise of a gallon of whiskey,to ask Meshach to trade the steeple-top for the bell-crown. The intenselook of outrage and hate, with the accompanying menace his townsmanreturned, really frightened Jack, and he had prudently avoided Milburnever since, while keeping as close a watch upon his movements andwhereabouts as upon some incited bull-dog, liable to appear anywhere.
In this way Jack Wonnell had followed Meshach to the court-house corner,where stood Judge Custis's brick bank--which, of late, had done littlediscounting--and, from the open space between it and the court-house inits rear, he peeped after Milburn up the main cross street, calledPrince William Street, which stopped right at Judge Custis's gate.There, in the quiet of early afternoon, he heard the knocker sound, sawthe door open, and beheld the Entailed Hat disappear in the greatdoorway. Then, scarcely believing himself, Wonnell ran back to thetavern, and exclaimed:
"May I be struck stone dead ef ole Meshach ain't gwyn in to theJedge's!"
"You're a liar!" said Jimmy Phoebus, promptly, catching Jack by theback of the neck, and pushing his bell-crown down till it mashed overhis nose and eyes, "What do you mean by tellin' a splurge like that?"
"I seen him, Jimmy," was the bell-crowned hero's smothered cry; "if Ididn't, hope I may die!"
"What did he go there for?"
"I can't tell, Jimmy, to save my life!"
"Whoo-oo-p!" cried Phoebus, waving his old straw hat, itself nearlyout of season. "If this is a lie, Jack Wonnell, I'll make you eat a rawfish. Levin"--to Levin Dennis--"you slip up by Custis's, and see if oleMeshach hain't passed around the fence, or dropped along Church Streetand hid in the graveyard, where he sometimes goes. I'll stay yer, andmake Jack Wonnell account for sech lyin'!"
Levin Dennis, a boyish, curly-haired, graceful-going orphan, walked upthe cross street, passing Church lane and the Back alley, and slowlyturned the long front of Teackle Hall, and went out the parallel streettowards the lower bridge on the Deil's Island road, till he could turnand see the three great-chimneyed buildings of Teackle Hall liftingtheir gables and lightning-rods to his sight in their reverse, thepartly stripped trees allowing that manorial pile to stand forth in muchof its length and imposing proportions. Lest he might not be suspectedof curiosity, Levin continued on to the bridge at Manokin landing, andcounted the geese come out of a lawn on a willowy cape there, and taketo water like a fleet of white schooners. He ascended the rise beyondthe bridge, and looked over to see if Meshach might have taken a walkdown the road. Then returning, he swept the back view of Princess Anne,from the low bluff of cedars on another inhabited cape on the right,which bordered the Manokin marshes, to the vale of the little river atthe left, as it descended between Meshach's storehouse and the ancientPresbyterian church of the Head of Manokin, seated among its gravestonesbetween its hitching-stalls and its respectable parsonage manse. Nothingwas visible of the owner of the distinguishing hat.
So Levin Dennis returned more slowly around the north wing of TeackleHall, looking at every window, as if Meshach might be there; but nothingdid he see except the dog, which, to Levin's eye, appeared uneasy, andran out of the gate to make friends with him.
"So, Turk!" Dennis muttered, patting the dog's head, "no wonder you'rescared, boy, to see old Meshach Milburn come in."
Teackle Hall, according to rumor, was built at the close of therevolutionary war by an uncle, or grand-uncle, of Judge Custis, who camefrom Virginia, somewhere between Accomac and Northampton counties, andwent into shipbuilding on the Manokin, adding some privateering andbanking, too, and once, going abroad, he brought back from some ducalresidence the plan of Teackle Hall, as Judge Custis found it on hiscoming into the property.
It was nearly two hundred feet in length, and would have made threerespectable churches, standing in line, with their sharp gables to thefront, the bold wings connected with the bolder centre by habitablecurtains or colonnades, in which panels of slate or grained stone madean attic story above the lines of windows, and lintels and sills of thesame stone, with high keystones, capped every window in the many-sidedsurface of the whole stately block, all built of brick brought over invessels from the western shore, or possibly from the North, or Europe,and painted a gray stone color.
Its central gable had deep carved eaves, and a pediment-base to shedrain, and a large circular window in that pediment. The two mightychimneys of that centre were parallel with the ridge of the roof, androse nearly from the middle of the two opposite slopes, bespeaking fourgreat fireplaces below, and a flat, low-galleried observatory upon theroof gave views of portions of the bay on clear days.
The wings of Teackle Hall had similar, but lower, chimneys, astraddle oftheir roofs, and forest trees--oak, gum, holly, and pine, with a greatwillow, and some tawny cedars, and bushes of rose and lilac--dotted thegrassy lawn. The Virginia creeper and wild ivy climbed here and there tothe upper windows, and a tall, broad, panelled doorway, opening on alow, open portico platform with steps, seemed to say to visitors: "Menof port and consideration come in this way, but inferiors enter by someof the smaller doors!"
Levin Dennis, who had never sounded that knocker, though he had oftentaken his terrapins to the kitchen, stared in concern at the door whereit was reported Meshach Milburn had gone in, and would hardly have beensurprised if that intruder had now appeared at one of the three deepwindows over the door with a firebrand in his hand.
Levin muttered to himself: "Rich folks, I reckon, must make a trade.Maybe it's hosses--maybe not. I know it ain't hats."
He then turned down to the Episcopal Church, only a square from TeackleHall, and on a street between it and the main street, though in aretired situation, its front turned from the town, and looking over thefields and farms, like a good pastor who is warming at the fire with hishands behind him.
A single-storied, long, low edifice of British bricks, with itssemicircular choir next the street, and, adjoining the choir,
a spire ofmore modern brickwork built up to an open bell cupola, and open ribbeddome, also of brick, tipped with a gilded cross, the ivy was greenlymatted all round the choir, and ran along the side of the church, whereLevin Dennis walked under four tall, round-topped windows of stained andwired glass, till he came to the end gable or front of the church,standing in unworldly contemplation of the graveyard and the backfields.
There, since the Stamp Act Congress, or when Princess Anne was not halfa century old, the old church had taken its stand, backed up to thetown, recluse from its gossip. Between its tall round doors, with littlewindow-panes like spectacles let into their panels, the ivy vine arosein form like the print of The Crucified, reaching out its stems andtendrils wide of the one glorified window in the gable, in whose reddyes glimmered the triumph of a bloody countenance. The mossy walls,often scraped, the mossified pavement, the greenish tombs of marbleunder the maples and firs, showed the effect of shade, solitude, andhumidity upon all things of brick in this climate, where wood wasalready rising into favor as building material, but to the detraction ofpicturesqueness and all the appearance of antiquity.
No sign of the unpopular townsman was to be seen anywhere, but, as LevinDennis peeked around the foliage in the yard he beheld a man he hadnever observed before, and of a tall, bearded, suspicious, and ruffianlyexterior, lying flat on the top of a memorial vault, with his head andfeet half concealed in some cedar brambles.
"Hallo!" Dennis shouted.
"What do you hallo for?" spoke the man; "don't you never come to achurchyard to git yer sins forgive?"
"No," said the terrapin-finder, "not till I knows I has some sins."
"What air you prowlin' about the church then fur, anyhow?" demanded thestranger, standing up in his boots, into which his trousers were tucked;and he stood such a straight, long-limbed, lithe giant of a man thatLevin saw he could never run away, even if the intruder meant to chewhim up right there.
"I ain't a prowlin', friend," answered Levin Dennis. "I was jess alookin'."
"Lookin' fur what, fur which, fur who?" said the man, taking a steptowards Dennis, who felt himself to be no bigger than one of the other'slong, ditch-leaping, good-for-wading legs.
"Why, I was jess a follerin' a man--that is, friend, not 'zackly a man,but a hat."
"A hat?" The man walked up to Dennis this time, and stood over him likea pine-tree over a sucker. "Yer's yer hat," pulling an old strawarticle, over-worn, from Dennis's head. "No wind's a blowin' to blowhats into graveyards. Or did you set yer hat under a hen in yere, by astiffy?"
Dennis looked up, laughing, though not all at ease, but his amiable wantof either intelligence or fear, which belong near together, made hismost natural reply to the pertinacious intruder a disarming grin.
"No, man," Dennis said, "it was a hat on a man's head--ole MeshachMilburn's steeple-top. I was a follerin' of him."
"Stow your wid!" the man clapped the hat back on Levin's head. "You're apoor hobb, anyhow. Is thair any niggers to sell hereby?"
"Oh, that's your trade, nigger buyin'? Well, there's mighty few niggersto sell in Prencess Anne. Unless"--here a flash of intelligence shone inLevin's eyes--"unless that's what's took ole Meshach Milburn to JedgeCustis's. He goes nowhar unless there's trouble or money for _him_."
"And where is Judge Custis's, you rum chub?"
"Yander!" pointing to Teackle Hall.
"Ha! that is a Judge's? And niggers? Broke, too! Well, it's no hank fora napper bloke. So bingavast! Git! Whar's the tavern?"
"I'm a-goin' right thair," answered Levin, much relieved. "You must be aYankee, or some other furriner, sir."
"No, hobb! I'm workin' my lay back to Delaware from Norfolk, by pungy toSomers's cove. Show me to the tavern and I'll sluice your gob. I'lltreat you to swig."
At the prospect of a drink, of which he was too fond, Levin led the wayto the Washington Tavern, where there was a material addition to theattendance since Jimmy Phoebus had called to every passer-by thatMeshach Milburn, on the testimony of Jack Wonnell, had actually been andgone and disappeared in Judge Custis's doorway, and nearly a dozentownsfolks were now discussing the why and wherefore, when, suddenly,Levin Dennis came out of Church Street with a man over six feet high, ofa prodigious pair of legs, and arms nearly as long, with a cold,challenging, yet restless pair of blue eyes, and with reddish-brownbeard and hair, coarse and stringy. The free negro, Samson Hat, being alittle way off, was observed to cast a beaming glance of admiration atthe athletic proportions of the stranger, who looked as if he mightshoulder an ox, or outrun a horse.
"Hallo!" exclaimed Jimmy Phoebus, looking the stranger over boldly,yet with indifference, at last. "You're cuttin' a splurge, Levin, too.Where's Meshach?"
"Can't see no sign of him, Jimmy. Guess Jack Wonnell hit it, an' he'sgone in the Jedge's. Mebbe he's buyin' of Jedge Custis's niggers. That'sthis gentleman's business."
Jimmy Phoebus, himself no slight specimen of a man, gave anotherglance at the stranger from the black cherries of his eyes, and,apparently no better satisfied with the inspection, made no sign ofacquaintance.
"Whoever ain't too nice to drink with a nigger buyer," said the man,independently, "can come in and set up his drink, with my redge, for I'mrhino-fat and just rotten with flush."
There was a pause for somebody to take the initiative, but JimmyPhoebus, turning his big, broad Greekish face and small forehead onthe stranger, remarked:
"I never tuk a drink with a nigger buyer yit, and, by smoke! I reckonI'm too old to begin."
The man stopped and measured Jimmy up in his eye.
"Humph!" he said with a sneer, "you look to be a little more than halfnigger yourself. If I was dead broke I'd run you to market an' git myprice for you."
"No doubt of it whatever, as fur as you're concerned," said Jimmy,unexcited, while the man pushed Levin Dennis in towards the bar.
Either the new movement of Meshach Milburn, or the example of thestrange man, set Princess Anne in a tipsy condition that day. Thestranger was full of money, and treating indiscriminately, and thepavement before the hotel was continually beset with the loiterers, andthe bar took money and spread mischief. So when, an hour after dark, theunpopular townsman, avoiding the crowd, passed by on the opposite sideof the street, nearest his own lodging, one of the loudest and mostunanimous yells he had ever heard in his experience, rang out from theWashington Tavern.
"Steeple-top! Steeple-top! Old Meshach's loose. Whoo-o-op!"
"Laugh on!" thought Meshach, "till now I never knew the meaning of 'letthem laugh who win.'"
He felt confirmed in his idea to be married in the Raleigh tile, andwhen he saw Samson Hat, Milburn said: "Boy, brush all my clothing well.Then go back to the livery stable, and order a buggy to be ready for youat ten o'clock. At that hour set out for Berlin; and bring back RhodyHolland with you in the morning."
"It's more dan thirty mile, marster, an' a sandy road."
"No matter. Take it slow. I will write you a letter to carry. Samson, Iam going to be married to-night to the rose of Princess Anne."
"Dar's on'y one," said Samson. "Not Miss Vesty Custis?"
"Yes, Samson. Princess Anne may now have something to howl at. The poorgirl may be lonesome, as, no doubt, she will be dropped everywhere on myaccount, and not a soul can I think of, to be my young lady's maid,unless it is Rhody."
"Yes, Marster, wid all your money you're pore in friends; inwomen-friends you is starved."
"You may go with me to the church," said Meshach, "I suppose you want tosee me married."
"Yes, sir. Dat I do! Wouldn't miss dat fo' my Christmas gift. I 'spectdat gal Virgie will come wid Miss Vesty to de cer'mony, marster."
"Perhaps so. You are not thinking of love, too, Samson?"
"Well, don't know, marster. Virgie's a fine gal, sho' I am a little old,Marster Milburn, but I'll have to look out for myseff, I 'spec, now youdone burnt down my spreein' place. Dar's a wife comin' in yar now. So ifyou don't speak a good word fur me wid some o' Miss Vesty's gal
s, I'maboot done."
"Well, boy," Meshach said, "you have got the same chance I had: theupper hand. I owe you a nice little sum in wages, and you may be able tobuy one of the Custis housemaids, and set her free, and marry her, or,be her owner. You are a free man."
Samson shook his head gravely.
"Dat won't do among niggers," he said. "Niggers never kin play de upperhand in love, like white people. Dey has to do it by love itseff: bykindness, marster."
Before nine o'clock Milburn and his negro left the old store by the townbridge, and passing by the river lane called Front Street, into ChurchStreet, walked back of the hotel, avoiding its triflers, and reached thechurch in a few minutes unobserved. The long windows shed some light,however, but as it was Saturday night, this was attributed, by the fewwho noticed it, to preparations for the next Sabbath morning. Beforesetting out, Samson Hat, observing his employer to shake a trifle, askedhim if a dram of whiskey would not be proper.
"No, boy; this is a wedding without wine. I shall need all my wits tofind my manners."
He entered the church, and found it warmed, and the minister alreadypresent in his surplice, kneeling alone at the altar. Mr. Tilghmanarose, with his youthful face very pale, and tears upon his cheeks, andseeing his neglected parishioner and the serving-man, came down theaisle.
"Mr. Milburn," he said, extending his hand, "I hope to congratulate,after this ceremony, a Christian-hearted bridegroom, and one who willtake the rare charge which has fallen to him, in tender keeping. Myendeavor shall be to love you, sir, if you will let me! Miss Vesta isthe priestess of Princess Anne, and if you take her from our sight andhearing, even God's ministrations in this church will seem hollow, Ifear."
"To me they would," said Milburn, "though from no disrespect to ourpastor."
"You have been a faithful parishioner," resumed Tilghman, "during mybrief labor here, as in my boyhood, when I little dreamed I should fillthat desk. You know, perhaps, that it was from the hopeless love of mycousin Custis, I fled to God for consolation, and he made me his humbleminister."
"I have heard so," said Milburn; "or, rather, I have seen so."
"Pardon my mentioning a subject so irrelevant to you, sir, but, though Ihave surrendered every vain emotion for my cousin, her happiness is apart of my religion, and this sudden conclusion of her marriage, aboutwhich I have asked only one question, has urged me to throw myself uponyour sympathy."
"What do you ask, William Tilghman? No matter--your request is granted."
"How have I won your favor?" the young rector asked, somewhat surprised.
Milburn mechanically picked his hat from a pew, and held it a little wayup.
"You were the only boy in this village who never cried after this hat."
"Then it was probably overlooked by me. I was like the other boys,mischievous, before my spirits had been depressed by unhappy love, and Idid not know I was any exception to their habits."
"It was grateful to see that exception," said Milburn; "hooted peoplemake fine distinctions."
"Oh, Mr. Milburn, forgive the boys! They are made for laughter, andlittle causes excite it, like dogs to bark, from health andexercise--scarcely more than that. The request I make is to let me beyour friend, because I have been your wife's! Frankness becomes mycalling, and I think you need friendly, cordial surroundings to bringout your usefulness, and give you the freedom that will take constraintout of your family life, and, without diminishing your goodsensibilities, dispel any morbid ones. This will open a way for Vesta tosee her domestic career, which, otherwise, might become so rapidlycontracted as to disappoint you both. You have seen her the idol of herwide circle, free as a bird, indulged by her kind, and by Providencealso, till joy and grace, beauty and health, faith and hope liveabundant in her, and you are the beneficiary of it all. Her societyhereafter you must control. May I become your friend, and let my lovefor your wife recommend me to your confidence, as you to mine and to myprayers?"
"Have I another friend already?" exclaimed Milburn, his voice quivering."What wealth she brings me never known before! William, you will be everwelcome to me."
They clasped hands upon it, and old Samson Hat, sitting back, was heardto chuckle aloud such a warming laugh, that Meshach's response to it, ina sudden pallid shivering, seemed slightly out of keeping. He wasrecalled, however, by the entrance of Judge Custis with his daughter,and her maid, Virgie.
Vesta was very pale, but neither shrinking nor negative. On thecontrary, she supported her father rather than received his support, andMilburn saw the Judge's worn, helpless face, with the pride faded fromit, and pity for his daughter absorbing every other feeling ofdepression.
He wore his best cloth suit, with the coat tails falling to his kneesbehind, the body cut square to the hips, and the collar raised high uponhis stock of white enamelled English leather. His low-buttoned vestexposed his shirt-buttons of crystal and gilt, and a ruffle, ironed byRoxy's slender hands with nimble touches, parted down the middle likesea foam on shell, and similar ruffles at the wrists were clasped bychain buttons of pearl and silver. His vest was of figured Marseillesstuff, and gaiters of the same material partly covered his shoes; andhis heavy seal, with his coat of arms upon it, fell from a pale ribbonat his fob. Debtor though he was, and answering at the bar of the churchto a heavy personal and family judgment, his large and flowing lines ofbody, deeply cut chin, full eyes, and natural height and grace ofstature made him a marked and noble presence anywhere.
Vesta Custis, dropping off a mantle of blue velvet at a touch of hermaid, stood in a party dress of white silk, the neck, shoulders, andarms bare; and, as she halted a minute in the aisle, Virgie struck thecloth sandals from her mistress's white slippers of silk, and, removingher hood of home-embroidered cloth, a veil of white fell to her train.The dingy light from the lamps of whale-oil gathered, like poor folks'children's marvelling eyes, around the pair of diamonds in herdelicately moulded, but alert and generous ears. Her fine goldwatch-chain, twice dependent from her neck, disappeared in the snowymould of her bosom, on whose heaving drift swam a magnolia-bud andblossom, each with a leaf. Her father's picture, in a careful miniatureset in pearls, lay higher on her breast, fastened by a pearl necklace.Her hands were covered with white gloves, and her arms were withoutornament. Her hair, dropping in dark ringlets around her forehead andtemples, was combed upward farther back, and then gathered around apearl comb in high braids, and the plentiful loops drooped to hershoulder.
Milburn glanced at the treasures of her peerless bodily charms, nevertill now revealed to his sight, and their splendor almost made himafraid.
Never had he been at a theatre, a ball, or anywhere from which he couldhave foreseen a swan-like neck and bosom sculptured like these, and armsas white as the limbs of the silver-maple, and warmed with bridal-lifeand modesty.
Her lips, parted and red, her great rich eyes a goddess might havecommanded through, with their eyebrows of raven-black, like entrances tothe caves of the Cumaean sibyl, her small head borne as easily upon herneck as a dove upon a sprig--all flashed upon Milburn's thrilled yetflinching soul, as the revelation of a divinity.
As she stepped forward he spoke to her with that bold instinct orecstasy she had observed when she first addressed him in her father'shouse, ten hours before.
"You have dressed yourself for me?" he said.
"Sir, such as I could command upon this necessity I thought to do youhonor with."
"For _me_, to look so beautiful! what can I say? You are very lovely!"
"It is gracious of you to praise me. Shall we wait, or are you ready?"
He gave her his hand, unable to speak again, and she was calm enough tonotice that his hand was now hot, as if he had fever. Her father, at herside, reached out also, and took the bridegroom's other hand:
"Milburn," he said, huskily, "this is no work of mine. My daughter hasmy consent only because it is her will."
"The nobler to me for that," Milburn spoke, with his countenancestrangely flushed. "What shall we
do, my lady?"
"Give me your arm; not that one. This is right. Have you brought a ring,sir?"
"Yes." He drew from his vest pocket a little, lean gold ring, worthhardly half a dollar.
"It was my poor mother's," he said.
Without another word she walked forward, her arm drawing him on, Virgiefollowing, and her father bringing up the rear. Samson Hat, feelinguneasy at being awarded no part in the ceremony, slipped up the aisle asfar as the big, stiff-aproned stove in the middle of the church, behindwhich he ducked his body, but kept his head and faculties in the centreof the events.
Mr. Tilghman had preceded them in his surplice, and taking his place atthe altar, with his countenance pale as death, he read the exordium inan altered voice: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here, and inthe face of this company, to join together this man and this woman inholy matrimony."
"What 'company' is here?" thought Vesta. "Not alone these poor negroesand my father; no, I feel behind me, looking on, the generations of ourpride and helpless ease, the worthy younger suitors I have been tooexacting and particular to see the consideration and merits of, thegolden hours I might have improved my mind in, with brilliantopportunities I was not jealous of, and which will be mine no more,because I had not trimmed my virgin lamp; and so I slept away mygirlhood, till now I awaken at the cry, 'The bridegroom cometh,' and Ibehold! Yes, I have been a foolish virgin, and am surprised when my fateis here! Perhaps my guardian angel also stands behind me, the crossadvanced that I must take, my crown concealed; but somewhere, midway ofthis journey of life, she may give it to me, and say, 'Well done!'"
"This 'company,'" thought Milburn, with swimming head, "gathered to seeme marry! what company? I seem to feel, besides these negroes, my solespectators, the populous forest peering on, the barefoot generations,the illiterate broods, the instinctive parents, the sandy graves. Theygive forth my lost tribe, and all cry at me, 'Go, leave us, proud one!despiser, go!' Yet there is one I see, pure as my bride, white as mycaptive's bosom, her soul all in her believing eyes, and saying, 'Oh, myson, it is a woman like me that has come into your life, and her heartis very tender, and, by your mother's dying love! be kind to the poorstranger you have bought.'"
He answered, "I will!" aloud, and it seemed almost a miraculouscoincidence that it was a response to the minister's question, till heheard the corresponding inquiry put to his bride in the clergyman's low,but gentlest, tones:
"Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, insickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only untohim, so long as ye both shall live?"
"I will!" spoke the Judge's daughter, clear as music, and the Judge drewa long, deep sigh, saturated with tears, as if from the deepest wells ofgrief.
He could not distinctly answer, as he joined her hand to the minister's.The minister lost his office and speech for a moment, joining her handto the bridegroom's. The slave-girl burst into a wail she could notcontrol, and only Vesta stood calm as her bridegroom, putting her cool,moist hand in his palm of fire, and waited to repeat the Church'sdeliberate language.
When both had made this solemn promise, she reached for the little ring,and gave it to her old lover, the minister, and Virgie loosed her glove.Mr. Tilghman, his tears silently falling upon his book, passed the ringto Meshach, and saw its tiny circle hoop her white finger round, nobigger than a straw, yet formidable as the martyr's chain. His prayerswere said with deep feeling, and he pronounced them man and wife. Then,shaking Meshach's hand, he said, with his boyish countenance bright asfaith could make it:
"My friend, may I take my kiss?"
Meshach nodded his head, but his face was like a ball of fire, and hehardly knew what was asked. Mr. Tilghman kissed Vesta, saying,
"Cousin, your husband is my friend, and love and friendship bothsurround you now. May your happiness be, like your goodness, securestwhen you surmount difficulties, like those birds that cannot float atperfect grace till they have struggled above the clouds."
"May I kiss you now?" Milburn said, gazing with a wild look upon herrich eyes.
As she obediently raised her lips, a strange, warm, husky breath, notnatural nor even passionate, came from his nostrils. The Judge, lookingat this--no pleasing scene to him, the fairest Custis in two hundredyears being devoured before his sight--exclaimed within his soul,
"Is Meshach drinking? His eyes look fiery."
So, after kissing his daughter also, and saying, "May God reward youwith triumphs and compensation beyond our fears!" the Judge said:
"Milburn, I suppose, in the sudden conclusion of this union, you havemade no arrangements as to where you will go; so come, of course, toTeackle Hall, and make it your home."
"Is that your wish, my dear one?"
Vesta replied, "Yes. But it is yours to choose, sir."
"You have some business with your father for an hour," Milburn said;"meantime, I require something at my warehouse, and, as it is yet earlyin the night, may I leave you a little while?"
She bowed her head again, and, while they proceeded towards thechurch-door, lingering there, Samson took the opportunity to seize bothof Virgie's hands.
"Virgie," he exclaimed, "is all dat kissin a gwyin on an' we black folksgit none of it? Come hyeah, purty gal, an' kiss yer ole gran'fadder!"
Virgie consented without resistance, till Samson continued, "Oh, whatpeach an' honey, Virgie! Gi me anoder one! I say, Virgie, sence mymarster an' your mistis have done gone an' leff us two orphans, sposenwe git Mr. Tilghman to pernounce us man an' wife, too?" Then Virgie drewaway.
"Samson Hat," she said, "what's that you are talking about? You ought tobe ashamed of yourself. You are old enough to be my father!"
"'Deed I ain't, my love. I'm good as four o' dese new kine o' SomosetCounty beaux. I'm a free man. Maybe I'll sot you free too, Virgie--mean' my marster yonder. He says we better git married. 'Deed he does."
"You are just an impertinent old negro," the girl replied. "Do yousuppose any well-raised girl would have a man who got rich by cleaningthe Bad Man's hat? You're nothing but the devil's serving-man, sir."
"Look out dat debbil don't ketch you, den," said Samson. "You pore,foolish, believin' chile! Look out dem purty black eyes don't cry forole Samson yit. He's done bound to marry some spring chicken, ole Samsonis, an' I reckon you'll brile de tenderest, Virgie."
Virgie, indignant, but fluttered at her first real proposal, and fromone of the richest men of her color in Princess Anne, hastened to tie onher young mistress's walking-shoes, and, as they all stepped from thehappy old church, where Vesta's voice had so often pierced, in herflights of harmony, to a bliss that seemed to carry her soul, like alark, to heaven's gate, that
"singing, still dost soar, and, soaring, ever singest,"
she saw fall upon the pavement of the churchyard the long, preposterous,moon-thrown hat of the bridegroom.
"Oh, what will he do with that hat, now that he has married me?" Vestathought. "Will he continue to afflict me with it?"
Her heart sank down, so that she felt relieved when he kissed her againat the church-gate, and saying, "I will come soon, darling," went, withhis man, into Princess Anne.
"Is your buggy ready harnessed, Samson?" his master asked, when theyturned the court-house corner.
"Yes, marster."
At this moment a large crowd of men, comprising all the idle populationin town, as well as many Saturday-night bacchanalians from the countryand coasts, some standing before the tavern, others on the oppositesidewalks or gathered on the court-house corner, seeing the hattedfigure of Meshach rise against the moonlight, raised the scatteringcry, finally deepening into a yell, of:
"Man with the hat loose! Steeple-top! Three cheers for old Meshach'shat!"
With a minute's irresolution, as if hesitating to go through the crowd,Milburn turned into the main street, crossed it, and continued down theopposite sidewalk, on the same side with his domicile, the jeers andjests still continuing.
"Dar's rum a w
orkin' in dis town all arternoon, marster," his faithfulnegro said, "eber sence dat long man come in from de churchyard widLevin Dennis. Look out, marster!"
He had scarcely spoken, when three men were seen to bar the way, two ofthem drunk, the third ugly with drink, emerging from a groggery thatstood across the street from the tavern, where further beverage had beendenied them. The first was Jack Wonnell. He hiccoughed, cried"Steeple-top!" and slunk behind a mulberry-tree. The second man wasLevin Dennis, hardly able to stand, and he sat down on the groggerystep, smiling up idiotically.
The third man, rising like a giant out of his boots, with his armsswaying like loose grapevines, and his bearded face streaked withtobacco drippings, looking insolence and contempt, brought the flat ofone hand fairly down on the crown of Milburn's surprising tile, with thewords:
"Halloo! Yer's Goosecap! Hocus that cady, Old Gripefist!"
The hat, age being against it, wilted down on Meshach's eyes, and theheedless stroke, unconsciously powerful, staggered him.
Samson, who had drunk in the giant's qualifications with an instant'sadmiration, immediately drew off, seeing his master insulted, and struckthe tall stranger a blow with his fist. The man reeled, rallied, andsought to grapple with Samson. That skilful pugilist bent his knees,slided his shoulders back, and, avoiding the clutch, raised, and threwhis trunk forward, with the blow studied well, and planted his knucklesin the white man's eyes. The tall ruffian went down as from a bolt oflightning.
Milburn saw all this happen in a minute of time, and his eye, lookingfor something to defend himself, dropped on the brick pier under thegroggery steps, where Levin Dennis sat, stupefied by the scene. A brickin the pier was loose, and Milburn stepped towards it. In this smallinterval the hardy stranger had recovered himself and staggered to hisfeet, and had drawn a dirk-knife.
"The ruffian oly you!" he bellowed. "Knocked down! by a nigger, too!Hell have you, then!"
As he darted forward, he described a rapid circle backward and downwardwith the knife, aiming to turn it through Samson's bowels, which hewould have done--that valorous servant being without defence, and not somuch as a pebble of stone lying on the bare plain of the soil to givehim aid--had not Meshach, wresting the loose brick from the pier, aimedit at the corresponding exposed portion of the assassin's body, andstruck him full in the pit of the stomach. The man's eyes rolled, and hefell, like one stone-dead, his dirk sticking in the sidewalk.
"Let him lie there," said Meshach, contemptuously. "No danger of such adog dying! If there is time he shall mend in the jail. Take to yourbuggy, boy, and keep out of the way."
The negro needed no warning, as the impiety of striking a white man wasforbidden in a larger book than the Bible--the book of ignorance. Hedisappeared through the houses and was a mile out of Princess Anne,driving fast, before the new man had raised his head from the ground.
"Where is the nigger?" he gasped, his paleface painted by his bloodshoteyes. "What kind of coves are you to let a black bloke fight a whiteman? I'll cut his heart out before I tip the town."
He looked around on the crew which had crossed over from the tavern;Meshach had vanished in his store at the descent of the road. JimmyPhoebus was the only one to speak.
"Nigger buyer," he said, "if you are around this town from now tillmidnight, or after midnight to-morrer, Sunday night, ole Meshach Milburnwill have you in that air jail till Spring. By smoke! he'll find out yeraunty's cedents, whair you goin, whair you been, what's yer splurge, anall yer hokey pokey. You've struck the Ark of the Lord this time--oleMilburn's Entailed Hat! Take my advice an' travel!"
The man washed his face at the tavern pump, turned the bank corner, anddisappeared in the night towards Teackle Hall.
The Entailed Hat; Or, Patty Cannon's Times Page 14