24. CHAPTER XXIV.
A JOURNEY—THE END UNFORESEEN.
John Spotswood was soon well enough to ride out with his sister in the
carriage, and after several experiments of his strength, and continued improvement
from day to day, it was at length determined to remove him for a
short time to Temple Farm. His spirits had now become placid if not cheerful,
and every one remarked that he began to look, and speak, and act more
like his former self, than he had done for many months before. It was a mere
farewell family reunion which was proposed to take place, preparatory to the
removal of the whole establishment to the capital. That removal could not
now longer be delayed, for the House of Burgesses was soon to assemble,
besides a general meeting of all those favorable to the great tramontaine
expedition. Accordingly, the same principal parties were soon re-established
in the country who were there when we first introduced them to the reader,
with such additions as had been made from time to time. Henry Lee did not
return with the Governor.
It was impossible for his Excellency not to observe that Lady Spotswood
was highly offended with the Tutor from some cause or other, and he very
soon took occasion to inquire into the matter.
He first heard his lady's reasons for the difficulty, and then summoned Hall
to the library to hear his.
“Well, Mr. Hall,” said his Excellency as the Tutor entered, “sit down
here, and tell me all about this difficulty with Harry Lee and the ladies of my
family. For once they seem to have sided with him, and of course are against
you.”
“Not all of them your Excellency—I have satisfactorily explained the matter
to the only one who has afforded me an opportunity, and the one, too,
about whom the unpleasant alteraction occurred.”
“I am very glad to hear it. That is Miss Evylin, I presume.”
“Yes, sir, and I am very sure she will be kind enough to set me right with
her Ladyship, which she can do so much better than I can.”
Hall here related the whole of the conversation with Lee, word for word,
as near as he could recollect it. While he progressed, the old veteran's
brow at first loured, but presently cleared away again, and by the time Hall,
bad finished, he was laughing quite heartily. When this humor had somewhat
spent itself, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and extended his land to
Hall, saying—“Never mind
him; if I had been here, the affair would not
have occurred; and if you had known him as well as I do, you would have
given the whole thing the go-by, more especially as it was no more your interest
to quarrel with him than it is mine. In your case, there is an estate
pending, in which his good opinion is worth cultivating, and in mine, there is
a vote in the House of Burgesses; but I suppose it is too late to mend the
matter between you now.”
“It is, your Excellency.” He did not tell him of the rencounter in the
garden—he did not think it necessary.
“But tell me Mr. Hall, is this true that I hear, that you are likely to carry
off the Doctor's charming daughter after all, against all these rich and high
born rivals?—you need not blush man, I meant no insinuation against your
own parentage. Was Lee's rumpus nothing but a freak of jealousy?”
“Nothing else, sir, I solemnly believe, not that there was the least foundation
for it. I have put in no claim to the lady.”
“Aye, claims refers to rights, and these are rights something like squatting
upon lands or our corn laws, which you have heard talked of no doubt. Is it
so, and have you been squatting upon Lee's lands? Come man, out with it.”
`No your Excellency—my temporary association with Miss Evylin grew
entirely out of her solicitude for another. I have no right to bring those
matters farther into discussion between us; but assure you, sir, that our frequent
meetings had very little to do with me personally, any more than the
reader of an interesting history has to do with the historian.”
“Well, well, it is best, perhaps, as it is. Here comes John—I will leave you
with him, for I want you to get well acquainted. You will find that he has
an ardent thirst for military adventure; in the meantime, be sure I will set
all things straight in the other end of the house.”
John came hobbling upon his stick on one side, and leaning on Kate's arm
on the other, looking very pale and care worn. His face, which was before
full and unnaturally fleshy about its lower features, was now thin—clean cut
and intellectual, with perhaps a dash of reckless determination about the thin
closely compressed lips. He had evidently taken a prejudice against the Tutor,
and notwithstanding Kate's warm encomiums, he received him coldly and
rather cavalierly. Hall's late experience had well prepared him for this, and
he bore it with patience and even humility. He waited for John to lead the
subjects of conversation, and dropped in so gently, and yet threw so much
light upon whatever he touched, that John was compelled to respect him, at
least. Kate had left them together.
After John had conversed with the Tutor for an hour or two, his prejudices
vanished, and he then communicated to him a proposition of his father's,
and which he frankly confessed he was unwilling to do, until he had seen a
little more of him. It was that Hall should proceed to the capital, taking
with him the Scotch Irish recruits from York, and there take the command of
the garrison in John's stead, until his health should be entirely restored.
Hall professed the utmost readiness to do so—indeed, he said he would
prefer active employment in the present state of his mind, even to teaching
master Bob, for whom, he said, he had taken a great liking.
“Well,” continued John, “I must prepare you before hand for a motley
array which you will find at the garrison. There are ten companies of the
rangers, a little over two hundred men—they are old campaigners, and well
enough, perhaps; but if the volunteer militia, who have come in with their
homespun clothes, and with the burrs yet in their horses' tails and manes, can
be drilled into decent looking dragoons before we set out, I will call you a soldier
indeed.”
“Never fear, never fear,” said Hall, rising at once to make his preparations
for the march. “Some of Marlborough's bravest soldiers were doubtless
once as raw as your homespun militia.”
“Oh the materials are good enough,” replied John, “these Virginia yeomanry
would fight the devil, or thrice their number of Indians; it is their
appearance which I fear will discourage you, but we are getting them equipped
as fast as possible. You will find ten Lieutenants of Rangers, these we are
distributing among the raw recruits, so that soon we hope to present quite an
imposing little army to the good citizens of Williamsburg. The arms and
accoutrements you will find in the tower, and at your disposal.”
After receiving further instructions from the Governor, Hall was ready to
set out for York. When he went to take leave of the ladies, he found Lady
Spotswood somewhat mollified but still rather stately. Bob shed tears and
begged to be permitted to march over the mountains with Mr. Hall. Dorothes
and Kate were warm and unreserved in their good wishes, and old Dr. Blair
bid him God speed. Ellen Evylin said little, but seemed to feel keenly that
she was about to lose the society of one who had contributed not a little to that
renovation of health and bloom spoken of in admiration by all the party just
returned.
Hall cantered off, attended by old June, with a portmanteau bearing his
baggage strapped behind his saddle. The former had, already exchanged his
seedy garments for those more becoming the society in which he had been
moving, and every time he glanced at his external renovation, it rankled in his
heart to think that the money with which they had been purchased, was obtained
from Henry Lee, not that it long interrupted his reflections as he cantered
down the avenue on his departure from a place where he had enjoyed so
many hours of calm and delightful intercourse with its inmates. His thoughts
were soon running upon far different matters than cocked hats, and silk hose,
and velvet waistcoats. He had sought the Governor's country establishment
as a quiet retreat, where he might for the present shun the observation
of men, and though he was at first thrown into the company of some of
the very persons whom he would have avoided, yet they were now gone, and
he could have remained there for the short time still intervening before the
departure of the family, without danger of exposure. He was ordered off just
at this opportune moment, and into the most conspicuous part of the capital.
Little did he imagine how speedily he would be removed from that position
and in what manner! But we anticipate. There were other and gentler
thoughts which forced themselves upon his attention. Could the image of that
fair little blue eyed girl, be so soon obliterated from the memory even of an
indifferent observer. But to him who stood sponser, as it were, for her long
lost lover, and with a skilful and gentle hand had led her back over memory's
brightest and darkest pages, could he forget her? Was there no impression
left upon his heart by an association so dangerous? Let those of our fair
readers answer who have poured the tale of their unhappy loves into the
willing ear of some very benevolent and sympathizing youth; for our part we
question the stoicism of these youthful philosophers, as much as we question
the possibility of platonic attachments between opposite sexes. Especially do
we question the stoicism of the gentleman, where (as in the present case)
the lady is young, lovely, and intelligent. We do not know that Ellen Evylin
had a sly design upon the heart of the poor Tutor, but this we know, that he
did not leave Temple Farm unscathed. But there were other difficulties
gathering over his head, far more formidable than all the wounds of the heart.
