University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
AN ENCOUNTER ON THE HIGHWAY.

Two days after the scene which we have just related, Henrietta
and Clare were sitting in the drawing-room at Riverhead,
waiting for their father, who was making his toilette,
to accompany them out to dinner. The chariot stood at
the door, with its four glossy horses, and liveried coachman
and footman.

Henrietta was amusing herself with a new book, at which
she laughed from time to time merrily. Clare was sitting
quietly engaged upon some small ornamental work, and her
sweet tender little face, wore its usual expression of quiet
sadness, as with her long dusky lashes resting on her cheek,
she pursued her occupation.

At last Henrietta threw down the volume, petulantly.

“I cannot have any peace of my life!” she exclaimed.

Clare raised her head.

“How, sister?” she said.

`For thinking of that rude man's impudence!”

“Who—Captain Waters?”

“Yes.”

“Did he offend you?”

“My goodness, Clarry! how unobservant you are! Did
you not hear his impertinent speeches to us?”

“No, sister.”

“Well, I heard them! and I think he is odious!”

“Odious?”

“Hateful!”

“Oh, you ought not to place too much stress upon his
roughness, sister,” said Clare, “he has not been bred in
courts—he has been fighting, you know.”

“Is that any reason why he should insult a lady?”

“Insult you, sister!”

“Yes, Clarry—you know he did. `Ladies could not
understand any thing but fashions,' indeed! He would wait
until we had retired, to narrate his heroic achievements!”

Clare smiled faintly.

“I don't think he meant to offend you, or me, sister,” she
said.

“Well, I choose to be offended, Clarry, whether you do
or not! Really! `The artillery of my eyes—war the natural
relation of the sexes!' Was any thing ever more impudent!”

“It was a very harmless jest, I think,” replied Clare.

“I think it very impudent.”

“Oh, no, sister.”

“There you are, Clarry, with your excessive good-nature!
You see nothing improper, in the free and easy address
of this rude man—who—”

“Who did us a very great service, sister,” added Clare,
softly.

“Well, suppose he did: any gentleman would have done
as much. Do not understand me to say, however, that I
think him a gentleman.”

“Papa says that he is a very worthy gentleman.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Henrietta.

“He says,” continued Clare, “that from his own account
he must have fought very bravely,—`like a lion,' papa
says—”

“Yes—his boasting!”

“No, no—papa says that he never mentioned himself,
unless he was questioned.”

“Mock modesty!”

Clare smiled again, with the same faint, quiet expression.

“You are determined, I see, to dislike Captain Waters,”
she said, “and I cannot convince you, that he meant no
offence when he was here.”

“No, Clarry, you cannot.”

“Your prejudices are very strong, sister.”

“Yes, they are, and I confess that I think this gentleman
is odious, hateful, impertinent; and I will never see him
again.”

As she spoke, a loud, hearty voice, was heard to say in
the passage, “Parbleu! you need not announce me, friend!”
and Captain Ralph entered, smiling and cheerful

“Bon jour, mesdames!” he said, bowing, “or if you do
not like French, permit me to inquire about your health in
good English.”

“Thank you, I am well, sir,” said Clare, with a courteous
little inclination of her smiling face.

“And Miss Henrietta?” said the Captain, “I am sure,
if outward appearances are to be relied on, she is distressingly
well, in awfully good spirits.”

“I am very well, sir,” said Henrietta, coldly.

“Any more adventures, madam?” asked the Captain,
with great interest, “no horses running away again, eh?”

“No, sir.”

“Then, you have not missed me?”

“No, sir!” said Henrietta, with great emphasis.

The Captain smiled.

“Well, then, you are in my debt somewhat,” he said.

“How, pray sir?” asked Henrietta, with cold surprise,
and a look which was intended to transfix and render speechless
the audacious visitor.

“The plainest thing in the world, morbleu!” said the
Captain, “I am a bachelor.”

“Sir?”

“I live all alone down there, in my cabin on the river—
where the bon père used to live, you know.”

“No, I do not know, sir.”

“Ah, well! that does not alter the fact,” said the Captain,
with a cheerful smile, “it is the paternal mansion—my
father, my dear madam, is that excellent old fisherman, John
Waters. But he is now away with Charley—in the mountains;
and thus I am alone by myself—as lonely, parbleu!
as an unfortunate bear, forced to suck his paws for amusement.”

“Well, sir?” said Henrietta, as coldly as ever.

“Well,” continued the Captain, smiling, “it naturally

follows that I am in want of company. When I see others
surrounded with it, I break the tenth commandment—though
not the clause relating to my neighbor's wife. When I
left you two days since, my unfortunate mansion seemed
more lonely than ever. Voila tout! That is why I missed
you.”

And the Captain curled his moustache toward the eye,
with a fascinating smile. It was Henrietta's lip that
curled.

“I would counsel you to marry then, sir,” she said, satirically,
“a companion would cheer your loneliness.”

“See! now, what a remarkable coincidence of thought!”
cried the soldier, laughing. “Parole d'honneur, Madam
Henrietta, you have hit upon just what occurred to myself!”

“Indeed, sir!”

“Yes, indeed—verily, as the English chaplain of our
regiment used to say, with a dreadful drawl, however, through
his nose. Yes, indeed—upon my word of honor as a soldier!
That has struck me—yes, I want a wife. For you
know I cannot be all the time with Jack Hamilton, and those
stupid members of the ruder sex.”

“Mr. Hamilton is one of my friends, sir,” said Henrietta,
more and more piqued.

“Ah? Well, he is a good fellow—an excellent fellow!
Parbleu! a delightful companion, and we have emptied many
a jovial cup together:—a good comrade—Seigneur Mort-Reynard,
as I call him. Guess, now, his name for me!”

“I have very little turn for guessing, sir.”

“Shall I reveal it then?”

“If you fancy, sir.”

“Certainly, I fancy. He calls me—the farceur!—his
name for me is Don Moustachio! What a deplorable attempt
at a jest.”

“It is at least characteristic, sir,” said Henrietta, with a
satirical smile.

“Why, yes,” replied the Captain, “there is some justice
in designating me by my moustache.”

And the Captain caressed that ornament affectionately;
his white teeth glittering under the ebon fringe like huge
pearls.

“A good companion is Hamilton,” he added, “and I

have many excellent friends of the same description. But
after all ma'm'selle, there is nothing like the divine sex.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Oh, you think me insincere!”

“No, sir!”

“You think I flatter you.”

“Was any portion of your observation intended for me,
sir? Really you are very kind!”

“Any portion for yourself! Why the whole of it was
for you.”

“A thousand thanks, sir,” said Henrietta, with the same
satirical expression.

“You deserved it, morbleu!” added the Captain, “and
lest I may be considered ungallant by Miss Clare, I will say
that she deserved even more.”

Clare smiled politely.

“You are very gallant, I think, Captain Waters,” she
said.

“I gallant!—oh, no! ma'm'selle: I am only a rude soldier.
I handle the pike and halberd, sword and pistol, carbine
and musket, much better than the implements of peace
—smiling words, polite speeches, and all that. Frankness,
madam, is my only virtue—but that I claim to have in excess.”

“It is a quality I very much admire, Captain Waters,”
here interposed the voice of Mr. Lee, who had entered behind
the soldier; “give you good day, sir.”

And the old gentleman shook the soldier cordially by
the hand.

“You are going to ride, sir,” said the Captain; “I believe
another of my shining merits is, that I always happen
to arrive malapropos.”

“No—our ride is of no importance: to-morrow will do
as well. You came to dine with us, doubtless, and so I will
send the chariot back.”

Henrietta could not restrain a little sigh of dissatisfaction:
to be disappointed in their ride!—to be obliged to
entertain the soldier all day long! It was too vexatious.”

The Captain heard the sigh, and catching the expression
of the young girl's face, smiled. He had her at his mercy,
and for a moment paused maliciously.

At last he said, laughing:

“No, no, sir! I could not think of forcing you to defer
your excursion: I perceive that mesdames here are bent
upon it.”

“We were only going over to Effingham Hall, sir—a
matter of no urgency:—merely a friendly call,” said Mr. Lee.
“You shake your head. Ah, well sir—go with us. What
say you?”

“I have not the pleasure of Effingham Hall's acquaintance,”
said the Captain, coldly, “though I remember going
there one day, to challenge Mr. Effingham, Jr.”

“A challenge, sir!” said Henrietta.

“Yes, my dear madam. Mr. Effingham, Jr., aforesaid,
ran his toasting iron through my brother's shoulder, and as
there was a little affair already nearly hatched between them,
I thought it my duty to take Charley's place.”

“But you did not fight!” exclaimed poor Clare, “you
know—”

There she stopped, with her face overshadowed.

“No, Ma'm'selle Claire, vous avez raison. No! we did
not, and that for one circumstance which would not interest
you. The young gentleman went away, doubtless ignorant
of the fact that I had called.”

Poor Clare's head drooped, as the Captain uttered these
words, and she murmured, “Yes, he went the same evening.”
She alone knew all.

“Therefore,” continued the Captain, “I decline going
to Effingham Hall: but that does not prevent my riding by
the chariot, mesdames, for a mile or two. I am desperately
tired of that Lanky's society.”

And, smiling, the Captain issued forth with the company.

“Ah, your beautiful horse again,” said Mr. Lee, “an
Arabian, sir?”

“Yes, I took a fancy to him in Constantinople, and
bought him for a handful of piastres. A beautiful horse is
the next thing to a beautiful woman!”

“Thanks for the comparison, sir,” said Henrietta, disdainfully.

“Is it not just?”

“Sir?”

“Come, is not Selim handsome? Answer, ma'mselle.”

“Yes, sir—well?”

“That satisfies me: and faith! I am so well pleased
with getting the better of you in the argument, that if you
want him, I will present you with Selim.”

Henrietta looked at the soldier.

“You would suit each other: he's a charming horse,”
said the Captain, laughing.

Henrietta was completely overcome, by these audacious
compliments: and could only say, coldly:

“Thank you, sir—I have a riding horse.”

“Will you ride on horseback, or with us?” interposed
Mr. Lee.

“On horseback, sir—parbleu, on horseback. I am more
at home in the saddle—and Selim understands me.”

And passing to the carriage door, the Captain gallantly
assisted the young girls to enter the huge vehicle, laughing
all the while, at the successful generalship which forced
Henrietta to give her hand to him.

The chariot then rolled off toward Effingham Hall, and
the Captain, mounting Selim, who stood ready, rode toward
it, humming his eternal “tra la! tra la!” which he occasionally
changed, for the sake of variety, to “Tirra lirra! tirra
lirra!”

He rode for some miles by the carriage window, and
managed to materially deepen the impression of his impertinence
upon Henrietta, by declining to understand her satirical
repartees, and applauding them as so many evidences of
sprightliness, with which he was delighted. When the
chariot arrived at the road which led from the highway to
Effingham Hall, the Captain drew up.

“You will not go with us, then?” said Mr. Lee, “I
hope you have no quarrel with the squire, sir?”

“None—none: I may even say, I think that we are
good friends, since I recollect some very polite speeches he
made on our former meeting. But I must go to Williamsburg
this morning. I had quite forgotten that this is the
day of the arrival of the mountain post.”

“Ah, yes—your father—”

“Precisely, my dear sir—father, brother, sister: how
could I neglect that, morbleu!”

“Well, sir: then we must hope to see you at Riverhead
soon again.”

“With pleasure! with pleasure! Mesdames, bon jour!”

And the Captain bowed elegantly, taking off, and lowering
to his saddle-bow, his hat with its dark feather. The carriage
rolled on, and Captain Ralph continued his way, alternately
humming his song, laughing to himself, and addressing
himself to the woods, in a half audible tone.

He had nearly reached the town, when the sound of
a horse's hoofs attracted his attention, and raising his head,
which had been for some time hanging down listlessly, the
soldier saw within ten rods of him, a gentleman who was riding
toward him, mounted on a splendid sorrel.

Something in the air of the traveller, struck him as
strangely familiar; and his keen eye plunged beneath the
drooping hat, which, black like the stranger's clothes, covered
his brow.

The traveller drew nearer—raised his head quickly: and
the two men at the same moment recognized each other.

The new comer was Mr. Champ Effingham.