University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.
A LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES.

Kate and Mr. Effingham reached and passed through the
old gate, and determined to extend their walk to a knoll, two
or three hundred yards beyond the little stream which crossed
the road. The stream was rendered passable by means
of a narrow footway, constructed of two large logs, above
which extended a slender sapling fixed to a tree upon either
side, and meant to answer the purpose of a balustrade.

Kate entered upon the narrow path over the brawling
little stream, with fear and trembling and laughter. The
swaying banister, so to speak, was very insecure, and one
might have supposed that Miss Kate Effingham was taking
lessons in the noble art of rope-dancing, so carefully, with
her right arm extended, did she balance herself upon the insecure
footway.

“Oh, me! I'll fall in! I'm sure I shall!” she cried, “oh,
cousin Champ!”

Mr. Effingham smiled, and said:

“Well, madam, you chose to precede me. It is your
own fault.”

“Oh!” continued Kate, making the most extraordinary
gyrations with her right arm, “oh! the tree is giving
way!”

In fact, the sapling began to bend more than ever.

“I shall fall in! I know I shall!” cried Kate, laughing,
and trying to steady herself. “Oh! cousin!”

Two strong arms raised the child, and bore her across.

“Thank you!” she cried, “I never should have got over,
I think.”

And they proceeded toward the hill, which they soon
reached. From the summit, there was a fine view of the
Hall, which raised its princely walls above the embowering
foliage in the sunset. The windows seemed to be on fire
with the crimson light of evening, and the rich rays died
away across the broad champaign in roseate splendor—fainting,
failing, dying. It was one of those lovely scenes which
are so common in Virginia, when the sun seems to linger,
loth to leave the fair fields and tall forests.

“Look, Katy,” said Mr. Effingham, “that is as pretty
a sight as you could find if you were to travel a thousand
miles.”

“It's lovely!” cried Kate, leaning her head against his
shoulder, and gazing at the landscape with her large bright
eyes; “and look at the clouds!”

“Yes: all gold. There is nothing as fine as this in Italy
—though I have seen something like it from a hill near Florence.
Ah! they have painters there—there are no painters,
no artists in Virginia: the time has not come—but it
will come.”

“Look!” cried Kate, “there is the carriage.”

And she pointed to the left, where the winding road
plunged into the woodland. There, indeed, was the Hall
chariot rolling on slowly toward them, the four glossy horses
lit up by the last rays of the sun.

“Somebody's with them,” continued Kate; “see what a
fine-looking-man, and what a beautiful horse. I never saw
any thing as pretty.”

“As the man—or the horse?” asked Mr. Effingham, with
a faint smile.

“Oh, the horse! look what slender, pretty legs he has,
and what a fine head and mane.”

“The man?”

“Oh, no! you are laughing at me: the horse: who can
it be?”

“It is Captain Ralph Waters,” said Mr. Effingham, calmly,
“let us go and meet them.”

Kate gave a delighted assent to this proposition; and descending
the hill again, they reached the stream just as the
carriage drove to the bank.

“Ah! there's my excellent cousin!” cried the voice of
Miss Henrietta Lee, from the chariot: and the brilliant
head of that young lady projected itself from the window.

Mr. Effingham bowed: and then turning to Captain Ralph,
said in his calm, courteous voice:

“I am glad to see you again, sir: give you good evening.”

“Why, good evening, companion,” replied the Captain,
“delighted to see you, though I did not anticipate that pleasure.”

“I have been taking a short walk—myself and my little
cousin.”

The Captain made Kate a very courteous little bow, which
that young lady was much pleased with.

“A short walk, eh?” continued the Captain; “how is
that?”

“There is the Hall, sir—it is not far.”

“The Hall?” said the Captain, drawing rein, “ah! the
Hall!”

And a cloud passed over the worthy soldier's brow.

“I believe I must return,” he added, approaching the
window of the carriage, and bowing to Henrietta, Alethea, and
the squire.

“I trust, Captain Waters, that you will not be so unfriendly
as to leave us at the door of my house,” said the old
gentleman, with frank courtesy: and he added, in a lower
tone, “I understand, sir, that your last visit was on a disagreeable
occasion, and did not tempt you to repeat your call:
but let the past sleep; you will do me an honor and a pleasure.”

The Captain twisted in his seat, twirled his moustache,
and made no reply.

“Do not afflict me, sir,” said the squire, in the same low
tone, and with as much cordial courtesy as before, “by causing
me to recollect events which should be forgotten. Come,
sir—I ask you to do me a personal favor.”

The Captain half yielded, muttering to himself.

“The ladies must be tired of me,” he said; “I am only
a rude soldier, sir: come now, Madam Henrietta, say! are
you not tired of me?”

This was one of those decisive questions which can only
be answered by a lady in the negative; as she could not say
yes, therefore, Henrietta said nothing.

“I am sure that I shall be glad if you go, sir,” said Miss
Alethea, “and I am quite as sure that Henrietta will.”

No reply from Henrietta.

“Ah, well,” said the Captain, seeming to conquer his repugnance
at last, “many thanks. I will weary you a little
longer. But is this young lady going to walk?” continued
the soldier, pointing to Kate. “Take my horse, he is perfectly
gentle, ma petite Mademoiselle; will you not? I will
fix the stirrup for you.”

“I'm afraid, sir,” Kate replied, laughing; “I don't mind
walking, if I was over the run.”

“Basta! then permit me to transport your small ladyship,”
said the soldier, laughing.

And he rode up to the fallen tree, upon which Kate was
standing. The child was quite delighted with this proposition,
and first interrogating the old gentleman by a glance,
was soon perched behind the Captain, who bore her across in
an instant behind the carriage.

“Do you like your seat, Ma'mselle?” asked the Captain.

“Did you speak to me, sir?”

“Yes, yes: Ma'm'selle is the outlandish for miss.”

“Yes, sir—I like to ride on such a pretty horse.”

“Then I'll carry you all the way, ma foi!”

“I don't want to leave cousin Champ,” said Kate.

Mr. Effingham, who had crossed the brook, smiled, and
opening the door of the chariot, entered it.

“Now, Katy, you may be at rest,” he said, “I am very
well here, and you shall have your ride.”

The chariot then rolled on and soon drew up before the
Hall, as did Captain Ralph, behind whom Kate was sitting
with delighted countenance. Will, who had just returned
from school, came forth and assisted the ladies from the carriage
with dignified courtesy, and the whole party entered
the old mansion, Willie lingering behind to ask Kate who
that man with the moustache was?