 | CHAPTER III. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
“While China's earth receives the smoking tide.
“At once they gratify their scent and taste,
“And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.”
Rape of the Lock.
The recollection of the repeated admonitions
of his mother, served to keep Job to his purpose.
The instant the officer appeared, he held his way
across the bridge, and after proceeding for a short
distance further, along the water's edge, they
entered a broad and well built avenue, which led
from the principal wharf into the upper parts of
the town. Turning up this street, the lad was
making his way, with great earnestness, when
sounds of high merriment and conviviality, breaking
from an opposite building, caught his attention,
and induced him to pause.
“Remember your mother's injunction,” said the
officer; “what see you in that tavern, to stare at?”
“'Tis the British Coffee-house!” said Job, shaking
his head; “yes, any body might know that
by the noise they make in't on Saturday-night! see,
it's filled now, with Lord Boot's officers, flaring
afore the windows, just like so many red devils;
but to-morrow, when the Old South bell rings,
they'll forget their Lord and maker, every sinner
among them!”
“Fellow!” exclaimed the officer, “this is trespassing
too far—proceed to Tremont-street, or
leave me, that I may, at once, procure another
guide.”
The changeling cast a look aside at the angry
eye of the other, and then turned and proceeded,
muttering so loud as to be overheard—
“Every body that's raised in Boston knows
how to keep Saturday-night; and if you're a Boston
boy, you should love Boston ways.”
The officer did not reply, and as they now proceeded
with great diligence, they soon passed
through King and Queen-streets, and entered that
of Tremont. At a little distance from the turning,
Job stopped, and pointing to a building near them,
he said—
“There; that house with the court-yard afore
it, and the pile-axters, and the grand looking
door, that's ma'am Lechmere's; and every body
says she's a grand lady, but I say it is a pity she
isn't a better woman.”
“And who are you, that ventures thus boldly to
speak of a lady so much your superior?”
“I!” said the idiot, looking up simply into the
face of his interrogator, “I am Job Pray, so
called.”
“Well, Job Pray, here is a crown for you.
The next time you act as guide, keep more to
your business.—I tell you lad, I offer a crown.”
“Job don't love crowns—they say the king
wears a crown, and it makes him flaunty and
proud like.”
“The disaffection must have spread itself wide
indeed, if such as he refuse silver, rather than
offend their principles!” muttered the officer to
himself.—“Here then is half a guinea, if you like
gold better.”
The natural continued kicking a stone about
with his toes, without taking his hands from the
pockets where he wore them ordinarily, with a
sort of idle air, as he peered from under his
slouched hat at this renewed offer, answering—
“You wouldn't let the grannies whip Job, and
Job won't take your money.”
“Well boy, there is more of gratitude in that
than a wiser man would always feel! Come, Meriton,
I shall meet the poor fellow again, and will
not forget this. I commission you to see the lad
better dressed, in the beginning of the week.”
“Lord, sir,” said the valet, “if it is your pleasure,
most certainly; but I declare I don't know in
what style I should dress such a figure and countenance,
to make any thing of them!”
“Sir, sir,” cried the lad, running a few steps
after the officer, who had already proceeded, “if
you won't let the grannies beat Job any more, Job
will always show you the way through Boston;
and run your a'r'nds too!”
“Poor fellow! well, I promise that you shall not
be again abused by any of the soldiery. Good night,
my honest friend—let me see you again.”
The idiot appeared satisfied with this assurance,
for he immediately turned, and gliding along the
street with a sort of shuffling gait, he soon disappeared
round the first corner. In the meantime the
young officer advanced to the entrance which led
into the court-yard of Mrs. Lechmere's dwelling.
The house was of bricks, and of an exterior
altogether more pretending than most of those
in the lower parts of the town. It was heavily
ornamented, in wood, according to the taste of a
somewhat earlier day, and presented a front of
seven windows in its two upper stories, those at
the extremes being much narrower than the others-The
lower floor had the same arrangement, with
the exception of the principal door.
Strong lights were shining in many parts of the
house, which gave it, in comparison with the
gloomy and darkened edifices in its vicinity, an
air of peculiar gaiety and life. The rap of the gentleman
was answered instantly by an old black,
was, a rich livery. The inquiry for Mrs. Lechmere
was successful, and the youth conducted
through a hall of some dimensions, into an apartment
which opened from one of its sides. This
room would be considered, at the present day, as
much too small to contain the fashion of a country
town; but what importance it wanted in size, was
amply compensated for in the richness and labour
of its decorations. The walls were divided into
compartments, by raised panel-work, beautifully
painted with imaginary landscapes and ruins. The
glittering, varnished surfaces of these pictures were
burthened with armorial bearings, which were
intended to illustrate the alliances of the family.
Beneath the surbase were smaller divisions of
panels, painted with various architectural devices;
and above it rose, between the compartments,
fluted pilasters of wood, with gilded capitals.
A heavy wooden, and highly ornamented cornice,
stretched above the whole, furnishing an appropriate
outline to the walls. The use of carpets was, at
that time, but little known in the colonies, though
the wealth and station of Mrs. Lechmere would
probably have introduced the luxury, had not
her age, and the nature of the building, tempted
her to adhere to ancient custom. The floor,
which shone equally with the furniture, was tessellated
with small alternate squares of red-cedar and
pine, and in the centre were the `saliant Lions' of
Lechmere, attempted by the blazonry of the joiner.
On either side of the ponderous and laboured
mantel, were arched compartments, of plainer
work, denoting use, the sliding panels of one of
which, being raised, displayed a beaufet, groaning
with massive plate. The furniture was old, rich,
and heavy, but in perfect preservation. In the midst
of this scene of colonial splendour, which was rendered
as impressive as possible by the presence of
of life, sat, in formal propriety, on a small settee.
The officer had thrown his cloak into the hands
of Meriton, in the hall, and as he advanced up the
apartment, his form appeared in the gay dress of
a soldier, giving to its ease and fine proportions,
the additional charm of military garnish. The
hard, severe eye of the lady, sensibly softened with
pleased surprise, as it dwelt on his person for an
instant after she arose to receive her guest, but the
momentary silence was first broken by the youth,
who said—
“I have entered unannounced, for my impatience
has exceeded my breeding, madam, while
each step I have taken in this house recalls the
days of my boyhood, and of my former freedom
within its walls.”
“My cousin Lincoln!” interrupted the lady,
who was Mrs. Lechmere; “that dark eye, that
smile, nay, your very step announces you! I must
have forgotten my poor brother, and one also
who is still so dear to us, not to have known you
a true Lincoln!”
There was a distance in the manner of both, at
meeting, which might easily have been imparted
by the precise formula of the provincial school, of
which the lady was so distinguished a member, but
which was not sufficient to explain the sad expression
that suddenly and powerfully blended with
the young man's smile, as she spoke. The change,
however, was but momentary, and he answered
courteously to her assurances of recognition—
“I have long been taught to expect a second
home in Tremont-street, and I find by your flattering
remembrance of myself and parents, dear
madam, that my expectations are justified.”
The lady was sensibly pleased at this remark,
and she suffered a smile to unbend her rigid brow,
as she answered—
“A home, certainly, though it be not such
a one as the heir of the wealthy house of Lincoln
may have been accustomed to dwell in.
It would be strange, indeed, could any allied
to that honourable family, forget to entertain
its representative with due respect.”
The youth seemed conscious that quite as much
had now been said as the occasion required, and
he raised his head from bowing respectfully on her
hand, with the intention of changing the subject
to one less personal, when his eye caught a glimpse
of the figure of another, and more youthful female,
who had been concealed, hitherto, by the drapery
of a window-curtain. Advancing to this young
lady, he said, with a quickness that rather betrayed
his willingness to suspend further compliment—
“And here I see one also, to whom I have the
honor of being related; Miss Dynevor?”
“Though it be not my grand-child,” said Mrs.
Lechmere, “it is one who claims an equal affinity
to you, Major Lincoln; it is Agnes Danforth, the
daughter of my late niece.”
“'Twas my eye then, and not my feelings that
were mistaken,” returned the young soldier; “I
hope this lady will admit my claim to call her
cousin?”
A simple inclination of the body was the only
answer he received, though she did not decline the
hand which he offered with his salutations. After
a few more of the usual expressions of pleasure,
and the ordinary inquiries that succeed such
meetings, the party became seated, and a more
regular discourse followed.
“I am pleased to find you remember us then,
cousin Lionel,” said Mrs. Lechmere; “we have
so little in this remote province that will compare
with the mother country, I had feared no vestiges
of the place of your birth could remain on your
mind.”
“I find the town greatly altered, it is true, but
there are many places in it which I still remember,
though certainly their splendour is a little
diminished, in my eyes, by absence and a familiarity
with other scenes.”
“Doubtless, an acquaintance with the British
court will have no tendency to exalt our humble
customs in your imagination; neither do we possess
many buildings to attract the notice of a travelled
stranger. There is a tradition in our family,
that your seat in Devonshire is as large as any
dozen edifices in Boston, public or private; nay,
we are proud of saying, that the king himself is
lodged as well as the head of the Lincoln family,
only when at his castle of Windsor!”
“Ravenscliffe is certainly a place of some magnitude,”
returned the young man, carelessly,
“though you will remember his majesty affects
but little state at Kew. I have, however, spent
so little of my time in the country, that I hardly
know its conveniences or its extent.”
The old lady bowed with that sort of complacency
which the dwellers in the colonies were apt
to betray, whenever an allusion was made to the
acknowledged importance of their connexions in
that country toward which they all looked as the
fountain of honour; and then, as quickly as if the
change in her ideas was but a natural transition in
the subject, she observed—
“Surely Cecil cannot know of the arrival of
our kinsman! she is not apt to be so remiss in
paying attention to our guests!”
“She does me the more honour, that she considers
me a relative, and one who requires no formality
in his reception.”
“You are but cousins twice removed,” returned
the old lady, a little gravely;” and there is
surely no affinity in that degree which can justify
cousin Lionel, how much we value the consanguinity,
when it is a subject of pride to the most
remote branches of the family!”
“I am but little of a genealogist, madam; though,
if I retain a true impression of what I have heard,
Miss Dynevor is of too good blood, in the direct
line, to value the collateral drops of an intermarriage.”
“Pardon me, major Lincoln; her father, colonel
Dynevor, was certainly an Englishman of an ancient
and honourable name, but no family in the
realm need scorn an alliance with our own. I say
our own, cousin Lionel, for I would never have you
forget that I am a Lincoln, and was the sister of
your grandfather.”
A little surprised at the seeming contradiction
in the language of the good lady, the young man
bowed his head to the compliment, and cast his
eyes at his younger companion with a sort of
longing, to change the discourse, by addressing the
reserved young woman nigh him, that was very
excusable in one of his sex and years. He had not
time, however, to make more than one or two
common-place remarks, and receive their answers,
before Mrs. Lechmere said, with some exhibition
of staid displeasure against her grandchild—
“Go, Agnes, and acquaint your cousin of this
happy event. She has been sensibly alive to your
safety, during the whole time consumed by your
voyage. We have had the prayers of the church,
for a `person gone to sea,' read each Sunday, since
the receipt of your letters, announcing your intention
to embark; and I have been exceedingly
pleased to observe the deep interest with which
Cecil joined in our petitions.”
Lionel mumbled a few words of thanks, and
leaning back in his chair, threw his eyes upward,
it is not our province to determine. During the
delivery of Mrs. Lechmere's last speech, and the
expressive pantomime that succeeded it, Agnes
Danforth rose and left the room. The door had
been some little time closed before the silence was
again broken; during which, Mrs. Lechmere evidently
essayed in vain, once or twice, to speak.
Her colour, pale and immovable as usually seemed
her withered look, changed in its shades,
and her lip trembled involuntarily. She, however,
soon found her utterance, though the first
tones of her voice were choked and husky.
“I may have appeared remiss, cousin Lionel,”
she said, “but there are subjects that can be discussed
with propriety, only between the nearest
relatives. Sir Lionel—you left him in as good a
state of bodily health, I hope, as his mental illness
will allow?”
“It is so represented to me.”
“You have seen him lately?”
“Not in fifteen years; my presence was said to
increase his disorder, and the physicians forbade
any more interviews. He continues at the private
establishment near town, and, as the lucid intervals
are thought to increase, both in frequency and
duration, I often indulge in the pleasing hope of
being restored again to my father. The belief is
justified by his years, which, you know, are yet under
fifty.”
A long and apparently a painful silence succeeded
this interesting communication; at length
the lady said, with a tremour in her voice, for
which the young man almost reverenced her, as
it so plainly bespoke her interest in her nephew,
as well as the goodness of her heart—
“I will thank you for a glass of that water in
the beaufet. Pardon me, cousin Lionel, but this
melancholy subject always overcomes me. I will
retire a few moments, with your indulgence, and
hasten the appearance of my grandchild. I pine
that you may meet.”
Her absence just at that moment was too agreeable
to the feelings of Lionel, for him to gainsay
her intention; though, instead of following Agnes
Danforth, who had preceded her on the same
duty, the tottering steps of Mrs. Lechmere conducted
her to a door which communicated with her
own apartment. For several minutes the young
man trampled on the `salient lions' of Lechmere,
with a rapidity that seemed to emulate
their own mimic speed, as he paced to and fro
across the narrow apartment, his eye glancing
vacantly along the laboured wainscots, embracing
the argent, azure and purpure fields of the different
escutcheons, as heedlessly, as if they were not
charged with the distinguishing symbols of so
many honourable names. This mental abstraction
was, however, shortly dissipated by the sudden
appearance of one who had glided into the room,
and advanced to its centre, before he became
conscious of her presence. A light, rounded,
and exquisitely proportioned female form, accompanied
by a youthful and expressive countenance,
with an air in which womanly grace
blended so nicely with feminine delicacy as to
cause each motion and gesture to command respect,
at the same time that it was singularly insinuating,
was an object to suspend, even at a first
glance, provided that glance were by surprise, the
steps of a more absent and less courteous youth
than the one we have attempted to describe.
be no other than Cecil Dynevor, the daughter
of a British officer, long since deceased, by the
only child of Mrs. Lechmere, who was also in her
grave; and consequently that she was one to
whom he was so well known by character, and so
nearly allied by blood, as to render it an easy
task for a man accustomed to the world as he had
been, to remove any little embarrassments which
might have beset a less practised youth, by acting
as his own usher. This he certainly attempted,
and at first, with a freedom which his affinity, and
the circumstances, would seem to allow, though it
was chastened by easy politeness. But the restraint
visible in the manner of the lady was so marked, that
by the time his salutations were ended, and he had
handed her to a seat, the young man felt as much
embarrassment as if he had found himself alone,
for the first time, with the woman whom he had been
pining, for months, to favour with a very particular
communication. Whether it is that nature
has provided the other sex with a tact for these
occasions, or that the young lady became sensible
that her deportment was not altogether such
as was worthy either of herself, or the guest of
her grandmother, she was certainly the first to
relieve the slight awkwardness that was but too
apparent in the commencement of the interview.
“My grandmother has long been expecting this
pleasure, major Lincoln,” she said, “and your arrival
has been at a most auspicious moment. The
state of the country grows each day so very alarming,
that I have indeed long urged her to visit our
relatives in England, until the disputes shall have
terminated.”
The tones of an extremely soft and melodious
voice, and a pronunciation quite as exact as if the
court, and which was entirely free from the slight
vernacular peculiarity which had offended his ear,
in the few words that fell from Agnes Danforth,
certainly aided a native attraction of manner, which
it seemed impossible for the young lady to cast
entirely aside.
“You, who are so much of an English woman,
would find great pleasure in the exchange,” he
answered; “and if half what I have heard from
a fellow passenger, of the state of the country be
true, I shall be foremost in seconding your request.
Both Ravenscliffe and the house in Soho,
would be greatly at the service of Mrs. Lechmere.”
“It was my wish that she would accept the
pressing invitations of my father's relative, Lord
Cardonnel, who has long urged me to pass a few
years in his own family. A separation would be
painful to us both, but should my grandmother, in
such an event, determine to take her residence in
the dwellings of her ancestors, I could not be censured
for adopting a resolution to abide under
the roofs of mine.”
The piercing eye of major Lincoln fell full
upon her own, as she delivered this intention, and
as it dropped on the floor, the slight smile that
played round his lip, was produced by the passing
thought, that the provincial beauty had inherited
so much of her grandmother's pride of genealogy,
as to be willing to impress on his mind that
the niece of a viscount was superior to the heir of a
baronetcy. But the quick, burning flush that instantly
passed across the features of Cecil Dynevor,
might have taught him, that she was acting under
the impulse of much deeper feelings than such an
unworthy purpose would indicate. The effect,
however, was such as to make the young man
leaning on the arm of her niece.
“I perceive, my cousin Lionel,” said the lady,
as she moved with a feeble step toward the settee,
“that you and Cecil have found each other out,
without the necessity of any other introduction than
the affinity between you. I surely do not mean the
affinity of blood altogether, you know, for that cannot
be said to amount to any thing; but I believe
there exist certain features of the mind that are
transmitted through families quite as distinctly as
any which belong to the countenance.”
“Could I flatter myself with possessing the
slightest resemblance to Miss Dynevor, in either
of those particulars, I should be doubly proud of
the connexion,” returned Lionel, while he assisted
the good lady to a seat, with a coolness that sufficiently
denoted how little he cared about the
matter.
“But I am not disposed to have my right to
claim near kindred with cousin Lionel, at all disputed,”
cried the young lady, with sudden animation.
“It has pleased our fore-fathers to order
such—
“Nay, nay, my child,” interrupted her grandmother,
“you forget that the term of cousin can
only be used in cases of near consanguinity, and
where familiar situations will excuse it. But
major Lincoln knows, that we in the colonies are
apt to make the most of the language, and count
our cousins almost as far as if we were members of
the Scottish clans. Speaking of the clans, reminds
me of the rebellion of '45. It is not thought in England,
that our infatuated colonists will ever be so
fool-hardy as to assume their arms in earnest?”
“There are various opinions on that subject,”
said Lionel. “Most military men scout the idea;
though I find, occasionally, an officer that has
the appeal will be made, but that the struggle will
be bloody.”
“Why should they not!” said Agnes Danforth,
abruptly; “they are men, and the English are no
more!”
Lionel turned his looks, in a little surprise, on
the speaker, to whose countenance an almost imperceptible
cast in one eye, imparted a look of
arch good nature that her manner would seem
to contradict, and smiled as he repeated her
words—
“Why should they not, indeed! I know no
no other reasons than that it would be both
a mad and an unlawful act. I can assure you that
I am not one of those who affect to undervalue
my own countrymen; for you will remember that
I too am an American.”
“I have heard it said that such of our volunteers
as wear uniforms at all,” said Agnes, “appear
in blue, and not in scarlet.”
“'Tis his majesty's pleasure that his 47th foot
should wear this gaudy colour,” returned the
young man, laughing; “though, for myself, I am
quite willing to resign it to the use of you ladies,
and to adopt another, could it well be.”
“It might be done, sir.”
“In what manner?”
“By resigning your commission with it.”
Mrs. Lechmere had evidently permitted her
niece to proceed thus far, without interruption, to
serve some purpose of her own; but perceiving
that her guest by no means exhibited that air of
pique which the British officers were so often
weak enough to betray, when the women took into
their hands the defence of their country's honour,
she rang the bell, as she observed—
“Bold language, major Lincoln! bold language
for a young lady under twenty. But Miss
Danforth is privileged to speak her mind freely,
for some of her father's family are but too deeply
implicated in the unlawful proceedings of these
evil times. We have kept Cecil, however, more to
her allegiance.”
“And yet even Cecil has been known to refuse
the favour of her countenance to the entertainments
given by the British officers!” said Agnes, a little
piquantly.
“And would you have Cecil Dynevor frequent
balls and entertainments unaccompanied by a proper
chaperon,” returned Mrs. Lechmere; “or is
it expected that, at seventy, I can venture in public
to maintain the credit of our family. But we
keep major Lincoln from his refreshments with
our idle disputes. Cato, we wait your movements.”
Mrs. Lechmere delivered her concluding intimation
to the black, in attendance, with an air that
partook somewhat of mystery. The old domestic,
who, probably from long practice, understood,
more by the expression of her eye than by any
words she had uttered, the wishes of his mistress,
proceeded to close the outer shutters of the windows,
and to draw the curtains with the most
exact care. When this duty was performed, he
raised a small oval table from its regular position
among the flowing folds of the drapery that
shrouded the deep apertures for light, and placed
it in front of Miss Dynevor. A salver of massive
silver, containing an equipage of the finest Dresden,
followed, and in a few minutes a hissing urn
of the same precious metal garnished the polished
surface of the mahogany. During these arrangements,
Mrs. Lechmere and her guest had maintained
a general discourse, touching chiefly on the
welfare and condition of certain individuals of their
thus made on his attention, Lionel was able
to discover a certain appearance of mystery and
caution in each movement of the black as he proceeded
leisurely in his duty. Miss Dynevor permitted
the disposition of the tea-table to be made
before her, passively, and her cousin Agnes Danforth
threw herself back on one of the settees,
with a look that indicated cool displeasure. When
the usual compound was made in two little fluted
cups, over whose pure white a few red and green
sprigs were sparingly scattered, the black presentod
one containing the grateful beverage to his mistress,
and the other to the stranger.
“Pardon me, Miss Danforth,” said Lionel, recollecting
himself after he had accepted the offering;
“I have suffered my sea-breeding to obtain
the advantage.”
“Enjoy your error, sir, if you can find any gratification
in the indulgence,” returned the young
lady.
“But I shall enjoy it the more, could I see you
participating in the luxury.”
“You have termed the idle indulgence well;
'tis nothing but a luxury, and such a one as can
be easily dispensed with: I thank you, sir, I do
not drink tea.”
“Surely no lady can forswear her Bohea! be
persuaded.”
“I know not how the subtle poison may operate
on your English ladies, major Lincoln, but it is no
difficult matter for an American girl to decline the
use of a detestable herb, which is one, among many
other, of the causes that is likely to involve her
country and kindred in danger and strife.”
The young man, who had really intended no
more than the common civilities due from his sex
to the other, bowed in silence, though, as he turned
table to see whether the principles of the other
young American were quite as rigid. Cecil sat
bending over the salver, playing idly with a curiously
wrought spoon, made to represent a sprig of
the plant whose fragrance had been thus put in requisition
to contribute to his indulgence, while the
steam from the china vessel before her was wreathing
in a faint mist around her polished brow.
“You at least, Miss Dynevor,” said Lionel,
“appear to have no dislike to the herb, you
breathe its vapour so freely.”
Cecil cast a glance at him which changed the
demure and somewhat proud composure of her
countenance into a look of sudden, joyous humour,
that was infinitely more natural, as she answered
laughingly—
“I own a woman's weakness.—I must believe it
was tea that tempted our common mother in Paradise!”
“It would show that the cunning of the serpent
has been transmitted to a later day, could that be
proved,” said Agnes, “though the instrument of
temptation has lost some of its virtue.”
“How know you that?” said Lionel, anxious to
pursue the trifling, in order to remove the evident
distance which had existed between them; “had
Eve shut her ears as rigidly as you close your
mouth against the offering, we might yet have enjoyed
the first gift to our parents.”
“Oh, sir, 'tis no such stranger to me as you may
imagine from the indifference I have assumed on
the present occasion; as Job Pray says, Boston
harbour is nothing but a `big tea-pot!' ”
“You know Job Pray, then, Miss Danforth!”
said Lionel, not a little amused by her spirit.
“Certainly; Boston is so small, and Job so useful,
that every body knows the simpleton.”
“He belongs to a distinguished family, then, for
I have his own assurance that every body knows
his perturbed mother, Abigail.”
“You!” exclaimed Cecil, again, in that sweet,
natural voice that had before startled her auditor;
“what can you know of poor Job, and his almost
equally unfortunate mother!”
“Now, young ladies, I have you in my snares!”
cried Lionel; “you may possibly resist the steams
of tea, but what woman can withstand the impulse
of her curiosity! not to be too cruel with my fair
kinswomen on so short an acquaintance, however,
I will go so far as to acknowledge that I have
already had an interview with Mrs. Pray.”
The reply which Agnes was about to deliver
was interrupted by a slight crash, and on turning,
they beheld the fragments of a piece of the splendid
set of Dresden, lying at the feet of Mrs. Lechmere.
“My dear grand-mama is ill!” cried Cecil,
springing to the assistance of the old lady.
“Hasten, Cato -major Lincoln, you are more active—for
heaven's sake a glass of water—Agnes,
your salts.”
The amiable anxiety of her grand-child was
not, however, so necessary as first appearances
would have indicated, and Mrs. Lechmere gently
put aside the salts, though she did not decline the
glass, which Lionel offered for the second time in
so short a period.
“I fear you will mistake me for a sad invalid,
cousin Lionel,” said the old lady, when she had
become a little composed; “but I believe it is this
very tea, of which so much has been said, and
which I drink to excess, from pure loyalty, that
unsettles my nerves—I must refrain, like the
girls, though from a very different motive. We
are a people of early hours, major Lincoln, but you
I must, however, claim an indulgence for threescore-and-ten,
and be permitted to wish you a
good rest after your voyage. Cato has his orders
to contribute all he can to your comfort.”
Leaning on her two assistants, the old lady
withdrew, leaving Lionel to the full possession of
the apartment. As the hour was getting late,
and from the compliments they had exchanged, he
did not expect the return of the younger ladies,
he called for a candle, and was shown to his own
room. As soon as the few indispensables, which
rendered a valet necessary to a gentleman of that
period, were observed, he dismissed Meriton, and
throwing himself in the bed, courted the sweets of
the pillow.
Many incidents, however, had occurred during
the day, that induced a train of thoughts, which
for a long time prevented his attaining the natural
rest he sought. After indulging in long
and uneasy reflections on certain events, too closely
connected with his personal feelings to be lightly
remembered, the young man began to muse on
his reception, and on the individuals who had
been, as it were, for the first time, introduced to
him.
It was quite apparent that both Mrs. Lechmere,
and her grand-daughter were acting their several
parts, though whether in concert or not, remained
to be discovered. But in Agnes Danforth, with all
his subtlety, he could perceive nothing but the plain
and direct, though a little blunt, peculiarities of
her nature and education. Like most very young
men, who had just been made acquainted with two
youthful females, both of them much superior to the
generality of their sex in personal charms, he fell
asleep musing on their characters. Nor, considering
the circumstances, will it be at all surprising
when we add, that before morning, he was
stout vessel he even thought that he was discussing
a chowder on the Banks of Newfoundland,
which had been unaccountably prepared by the
fair hands of Miss Danforth, and which was
strangely flavoured with tea; while the Hebe-looking
countenance of Cecil Dynevor was laughing
at his perplexities with undisguised good-humour,
and with all the vivacity of girlish merriment.
| CHAPTER III. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston | |