University of Virginia Library

8. VIII.

It was a gloomy night outside and in, for the
rain had been falling all day, and a cold rain-storm
in summer is dreary enough. But cheerful bars of

light streamed across the darkness from the tower
windows, lighting up a green strip on a tree here
and there, a picket or two in the fence, and banding
with an illuminated ribbon the side and roof
of the dripping barn. The Captain was making
his toilet. White ruffled shirt, with a black mourning
pin containing a lock of his mother's hair;
white Marseilles waistcoat, set off with an inner
vest of blue satin (suggested by Hood & Wessup);
trowsers of bright mustard color, fitting as tight as
if his legs had been melted and poured into them;
blue coat, cut brass buttons, end. of handkercher'
sticking out of the pocket behind; black silk stockings
and pumps; red check-silk neck-cloth, and flying-jib
collars. Down he came, and there sat brother
and sister on their corded trunks in the hall,
portentous as the Egyptian statues that overlook
the Nile from their high stone chairs. Not a word
was said; but the Captain opened the door and
looked out. “Why, it rains like fury. Jim!”

Jim, who was unseen in the darkness, and yet
within three feet of the door, answered cheerily,

“Aye, aye, Sir!”

“All ready, Jim?”

“All ready, Capt'in.”

“Wait till I get my cloak;” and as the Captain
wrapped himself up, his sister silently and carefully
assisted him; not on account of his plumage, but
to keep him from catching cold.

Off goes Shatter, Jim, and the Captain; off
through the whistling rain and the darkness. The
mud whirled up from the wheels and covered the
cloak of the bridegroom, so he told Jim “to drive
keerful, as he wanted to keep nice.” It was a long
and dreary road, but at last they saw the bright
lights from Mewker's windows, and with a palpitating
heart the Captain alighted at the porch.

Old Bose, who had been scouring the grounds
and barking at every guest, started up with a fearful
growl, but the Captain threw off his travel-stained
cloak, and exhibited himself to the old dog
in all his glory. The instant Bose recognized his
friend and benefactor he leaped upon him with
such a multitude of caresses that the white Marseilles
vest and mustard-colored trowsers were
covered with proofs of his fidelity and attachment.
“Hey, there! hey! down, Bose!” said Mewker at
the door: “Why, my dear brother!”

The Captain, with great gravity, was snapping
with his thumb and finger the superfluous mud

with which Bose had embellished his trowsers.

“Come in here,” said Mewker, chuckling and
scratching his chin. “I'll get you a brush. No
hurry. Time enough before the ceremony.”

The Captain walked after him through the hall,
and caught a glimpse of the parlors, radiant with
wax-lights, and crowded with such a display of
company as was rarely seen in Little-Crampton.

“Come in here,” said Mewker, still chuckling,
as he opened the door. “This is your room;” and
he winked, and gave the bridegroom such a nudge
with his knobby elbow as almost tumbled him over
the bed. “Your room—understand? The bridal-
chamber! Wait here, now; wait here till I get a
brush.”

The Captain, left alone, surveyed the apartment.
The pillow-cases were heavy with lace. Little
tasteful vases filled with flowers, made the air
drunk with fragrance; a white, worked pin-cushion
was on the bureau, before an oval glass, with his
own name wrought thereon in pins' heads. The
astral lamp on the mantel shed a subdued and
chastened light over the whole. Long windows
reached to the floor, and opened on the piazza;

light Venetian blinds were outside the sashes, without
other fastenings than a latch. The Captain
tried the windows, and they opened with a touch
of his thumb and fore-finger. He had not slept in
so insecure a place for more than twenty years.
Then he thought of the phantom-horseman, and the
deep pond behind the house. He shivered a little,
either from cold or timidity. The window was partially
raised, so he throws it up softly, touches the
latch; the blinds are open; he walks out on the
piazza, and then covertly steals around to the front
of the house, where he finds Shatter and the
wagon, with old Jim peering through the blinds, to
see the wedding come off.

“Jim,” he says, in a hoarse whisper, “take me
hum. I ain't a-goin' to sleep in such a room as
that, no how.”

The old boy quietly unbuckled the hitching-strap,
and when Mewker got back with the brush, Shatter
was flying through the mud toward the Oakery,
at a three-minute gait. Two or three quick knocks
at his own door, and it is opened by Augusta, who,
with her brother, had kept watch and ward on
their corded trunks. The Captain took the candle
from the table without saying a word, ascended the

stairs, passed through scarp, counterscarp, glacis,
and ditch, mounted his ladder, drew it up after
him, bolted the trap in the floor, and cocked his
pistol.

“Now,” said he, “let'em come on! They ain't
got me married this time, anyhow!”