University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

Late in the afternoon of the day succeeding the
one designated in the last chapter, towards the
southwestern extremity of the beach and outside
of the palisade, a young and gentle creature, of
most surpassing loveliness, moved thoughtfully
along the sandy shore, every now and then casting
a wistful glance over the water, and as often heaving
a gentle sigh, as a shade of girlish disappointment
settled upon her blooming face. Her dress
was simple, tasteful, and exquisitely appropriate to
her style of beauty. She had apparently scarce
passed her sixteenth birthday; and of course her
figure was not yet rounded out to its full perfection
of female loveliness. So much of her neck as
was visible above a rather high and close cut
dress, was of that pure, chaste and lovely white
which gives such an air of heavenly innocence to
the budding girl of that delightful age. The face
although exceeding the neck in the height, variety
and richness of its colouring, was not disfigured
by a single freckle, scar or blemish. The features
were generally well proportioned and suited to
each other, the lips full and gently pouting, with a
margin of as luxurious tinting as that with which
nature ever adorned the first budding rose of spring,
and when parted, as they often were, by the most

gentle and naive laughter, displayed a set of teeth
beautifully white and regular. Yet one could
scarcely fasten the eye upon them for the admiration
excited by the exquisite expression of the dimpled
mouth, ever varying, and as it seemed,
more lovely with each succeeding change. The
motion of her eyes was so rapid that it was difficult
to ascertain their colour; but certain it is they
were soft and brilliant, the latter effect produced in
no small degree by long fair dewy lashes which
rose and fell over the picture, as lights and shadows
fall from the pencil of an inspired painter.

The fair flaxen ringlets fell beneath the small
gipsey hat in short thick curls, and were clustered
around her brow, so as to form the most natural
and appropriate shade imaginable to a forehead of
polished ivory. She was about the medium height,
symmetrically proportioned, with an exquisitely
turned ankle and little foot, which now bounded
over the beach with an impatience only surpassed
by her own impetuous thoughts, as her eyes became
intently riveted upon a moving speck upon
the distant waters. The wild and startled expression,
excited in the first moment of surprise, might
now be seen merging into one of perfect satisfaction,
as the distant object began to grow into distinct outlines
at every plunge of the buoyant waves; her heart
heaving its own little current to her face in perfect
unison with their boisterous movements.

A beautifully painted canoe soon ran its curled
and fantastic head right under the bank upon

which she stood, and in the next moment a gallant
and manly youth leaped upon the shore by her
side, and taking her unresisting hand, gently
removed the gipsey hat so as to bring into view a
certain crimsoning of the neck and half avertod
face. Nathaniel Bacon, the youth just landed,
was about twenty-one, and altogether presented an
appearance of the most attractive and commanding
character. He wore a green hunting jerken,
buttoned close up to his throat so as to show off to
the best advantage a broad and manly chest.
Upon his head was a broad brimmed unstiffened
castor, falling over his shoulders behind, and
looped up in front by a curiously wrought broach.
A small brass hunting horn swung beneath one
shoulder, while to the other was suspended a short
cut and thrust sword. In his hand he bore a fishing
rod and tackle.

Few as evidently were his years, much painful
thought had already shadowed his handsome and
commanding features with a somewhat precocious
maturity. It was obviously, however, not the natural
temperament of the man which now shone
out in his features, after the subsiding of the first
glow of delighted feeling visible for an instant as
he watched the heightened bloom on the countenance
of the maiden.

“You were not irreconcilably offended then at
my rash and disrespectful behaviour to your father
at our last meeting?”

“Certainly not irreconcilably so, Nathaniel, if

offended at all; but I will confess to you candidly,
that I was hurt and mortified, as much on your
own, as on my father's account.”

“You are always kind, considerate and forgiving,
Virginia, and it behooves me in presence of
so much gentleness, to ease my conscience in some
measure by a confession. You have sometimes,
but I have never, forgotten that I was thrown upon
your father's hospitality an orphan and an outcast.
This fact constantly dwells upon my mind, and
sometimes harrows up my feelings to such a degree
that I am scarcely conscious of my words or actions.
It was so on the occasion alluded to. I
forgot your presence, the respect due to your father
and my benefactor, as well as what was due to
myself. I had been endeavouring to revive some of
the drunken reminiscences of that eccentric fellow
who sits in the canoe there, but they tended only
to inflame my ardent desire to know something
more of myself. Certainly some allowances must
be made for me, Virginia, under the mortifying
circumstances in which I am placed. I thought
your father could and ought to relieve this cruel
suspense.”

“He will if he can, Nathaniel; and that he does
not do so immediately, is the best evidence to my
mind either that he knows nothing on the subject,
or that some powerful reason exists why he should
not disclose his knowledge at present. Come, then,
return with me to our house; my father will
take no notice of your absence or its cause, unless

to jest with you upon your want of success in
your fishing expedition, which it seems was the
ostensible motive of your absence.”

“It was my purpose to return, but I had not so
amiably settled the how and the when; indeed the
objects I had in view were so urgent that I determined
to brave even your father's continued anger
in order to obtain an interview with you.”

“With me, Nathaniel!”

“Ay, with you, Virginia! You know that
there are on the island some restless and turbulent
spirits—late soldiers of the Protector. They have
some dangerous project brewing I am well satisfied,
from circumstances which accidentally fell under
my own observation. You know too that the Recluse
is said to have unbounded influence with
these desperate men, and to be familiar with all
their designs and movements. And notwithstanding
your childish dread of him, you know that he
loves you more than any living creature.”

“I know all the things you speak of, except the
last, and for that I suspect I am indebted to your
imagination; but to what does all this lead?”

“I have just returned from a visit to that strange
and mysterious old man, and as I have already
hinted, hastened hither for the purpose of seeking
an interview with you, which fortune has so opportunely
thrown in my way.”

“But I am yet in the dark. Why did you
hasten from the Recluse to me, after discovering
the things you speak of?”

“I will tell you; but you must be cool, calm
and considerate while I do so, because I have that
to tell and that to propose which will astound
you!”

“Oh do tell it at once then, and not play upon
my feelings thus.”

“Your father's and your uncle's life is in danger,
Virginia! Heaven, what have I done?” he continued,
as he saw his companion turn deadly pale
and lean against the palisade for support. But instantly
recovering herself she asked.—

“Whence does this danger come?”

“That I do not know exactly; but the Recluse
knows, and I have been vainly endeavouring to
learn it from him; and this brings me to the proposition
which I have to make. You must visit
him this night! Ay, Virginia! start not, you must
do it for your father's and your uncle's sake!”

“Visit the Recluse, and at night! What will my
parents say to it, think you?”

“They must not know one word of it.”

“Then it is absolutely out of the question.”

“Do not say so, Virginia, till you hear me out.
As I have already said, the Recluse loves you better
than he does any creature in the colony. He
knows all the plots and counterplots that are going
on, and if you will surprise him with a visit
to-night, he will divulge the whole affair to you.”

“Why must it be to-night?”

“Because there is no time to be lost. To-morrow
is the anniversary of the Restoration. There is

to be a grand celebration during the day, and a
ball at night; this opportunity is to be taken advantage
of in some way or other by the desperate
men alluded to. If we wait till to-morrow, and
make our visit publicly, these men will all know
of it, and its very object be counteracted by that
circumstance.”

“Your reasons are plausible I confess, Nathaniel,
and secret enemies are at all times dreadful, but
your alternative is scarcely less so.”

“I will pledge my life for your safety. You
have the keys of your father's house at command,
you can go and return through the servants' hall
when they are all asleep. No sentinels are placed
on the walls since the general peace with the confederated
tribes of Indians. My canoe lies under
the first abutment of the bridge. I will watch
you from your father's door till you arrive there.
We can then cross the creek in the canoe, so that
no one will see us at the bridge. Brian O'Reily
shall wait on the opposite shore with my horse
and pillion for you, and another for himself. What
then is there so much to be dreaded in this simple
nocturnal excursion to a retired old man, who, to
say the worst of him, is nothing more than fanatical
on religious subjects, and certainly he is very
wise and learned upon all others.”

“It is the clandestine nature of the expedition
that I object to, Nathaniel; it is so hurried—at such
a strange hour too. At all events I must have a
little time to consider of the propriety of the step.”

“Certainly, you shall have as much time as the
nature of the case will admit of. But see, the long
shadows of the trees are already extending across
the river and the birds are seeking their resting
places for the night.”

“Oh, happy little songsters! would to Heaven
that my rest could be as sweet and tranquil as
theirs this night? But Nathaniel, at what hour
shall I meet you at the bridge, provided I determine
upon the step you propose?”

“As the clock from the tower of the church
strikes eleven I will be at my post.” And as he
stepped into his canoe, he continued, “Remember,
Virginia, that it is your own peace and your
father's safety that I am endeavouring to secure in
the course I urge you to adopt.”

As the little vessel rose and sunk over the swelling
waves in its passage round the town, Virginia
stood on the brink of the river and gazed upon
the scene in a deeply meditative mood, very new to
her young and hitherto careless heart. At length
when her late companion had long disappeared
from her sight, and the sombre shadows of
evening were fast closing around the ancient city,
she slowly passed into the gates of the palisade
and sought her father's dwelling.