 | CHAPTER XII. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
“We have some secrets to confer about.”
Two Gentlemen of Verona
During the preceding exhibition of riot and
degradation, in the dock-square, a very different
state of things existed beneath the roof of
a proud edifice that stood in an adjacent street.
As was usual at that hour of the night, the
windows of Province-house were brilliant with
lights, as if in mockery of the naked dreariness
of the neighbouring church, and every approach
to that privileged residence of the representative
of royalty, was closely guarded by the vigilance
of armed men. Into this favoured dwelling it
now becomes necessary to remove the scene, in
order to pursue the thread of our unpretending
narrative.
Domestics, in rich military liveries, might be
seen gliding from room to room, in the hurry
of a banquet—some bearing vessels of the most
generous wines into the apartment where Howe
entertained the leaders of the royal army, and
others returning with the remnants of a feast;
which, though sumptuously served, having felt
the scarcity of the times, had offered more to
the eyes than to the appetites of the guests.
liotered through the balls, and many a
wistful glance, or lingering look followed the
odorous scents, as humbler menials received the
viands to transport them into the more secret recesses
of the building. Notwithstanding the life
and activity which prevailed, every movement
was conducted in silence and regularity; the
whole of the lively scene affording a happy illusstration
of the virtues and harmony of order.
Within the walls of that apartment to which
every eye seemed directed as to a common centre,
in anticipation of the slightest wish of those
who revelled there, all was bright and cheerful.
The hearth knew no want of fuel; the coarser
workmanship of the floor was hid beneath rich
and ample carpets, while the windows were
nearly lost within the sweeping folds of curtains
of figured damask. Every thing wore an
air of exquisite comfort, blended with a species
of careless elegance. Even the most minute
article of the furniture had been transported from
that distant country which was then thought to
monopolize all the cunning arts of handicraft, to
administer to the pleasures of those, who however
careless of themselves in moments of trial,
courted the most luxurious indulgencies in their
hours of ease.
Along the centre of this gay apartment was
spread the hospitable board of the entertainer.
It was surrounded by men in the trappings of
high military rank, though here and there might
he seen a guest, whose plainer attire and dejected
countenance, betrayed the presence of one or
two of those misjudging colonists, whose confidence
in the resistless power of the crown, began
already to waver. The lieutenant of the
King held his wonted place at the banquet, his
soldier's welcome, while he pointed out this or
that favourite amongst an abundant collection
of wines, that included the choicest liquors of
Europe.
“For those who share the mess of a British
general, you have encountered rude fare to-day,
gentlemen,” he cried; “though, after all, 'tis
such as a British soldier knows how to fatten on,
in the service of his master. Fill, gentlemen;
fill in loyal bumpers, for we have neglected our
allegiance.”
Each glass now stood sparkling and overcharged
with wine, when, after a short and solemn
pause, the host pronounced aloud, the
magical words—“The King.”—Every voice
echoed the name, after which there literally succeeded
a breathless pause; when an old man, in
the uniform of an officer of the fleet, first proving
his loyalty by flourishing on high his inverted
glass, added, with hearty will—
“God bless him!”
“God bless him!” repeated the graceful leader,
who has already been more than once named
in these pages; “and grant him a long and glorious
reign! and should there be no treason in the
wish, in death, a Grave like yourself, worthy admiral—`Sepulchrum
sine sordibus extrue.”'
“Like me!” echoed the blunt seaman, whose
learning was somewhat impaired by hard and long
service—“I am, it is true, none of your cabin-window
gentry, but his majesty might stoop lower
than by favouring a faithful servant, like me,
with his gracious presence.”
“Your pardon, sir, I should have included,
`permissum arbitrio.”'
The equivoque had barely excited a smile,
when the sedate countenance of the commander-in-chief
indicated that the subject was too serious
relish the unknown tongue; for quite as much, if
not a little more offended with the liberty taken
with his own name, than with the privileged person
of the sovereign, he somewhat smartly retorted—
“Permitted or not permitted, I command the
fleet of his majesty in these waters, and it shall be
noted as a cheerful day in our log-books, when you
gentlemen of the army dismiss us to our duty
again, on the high-seas. A sailor will grow as tired
of doing nothing, as ever a soldier did of work,
and I like `elbow-room,' even in my coffin ha,
ha, ha—what d'ye think of that, master wit—
ha, ha, ha—what d'ye say to that?”
“Quite fair, well deserved, and cuttingly severe,
admiral,” returned the undisturbed soldier,
smiling with perfect self-possession, as he
sipped his wine. “But as you find confinement
and leisure so irksome, I will presume to advise
your seizing some of these impudent Yankees
who look into the port so often, not only robbing
us of our stores, but offending so many
loyal eyes with their traitorous presence.
“I command a parley to be beaten,” interrupted
the commander-in-chief, “and a truce to further
hostilities. Where all have done their duty,
and have done it so well, even wit must respect
their conduct. Let me advise you to sound the
contents of that dusty-looking bottle, Mr. Graves;
I think you will approve the situation as an anchorage
for the night.”
The honest old seaman instantly drowned his
displeasure in a glass of the generous liquor, and
smacking his lips after the potations, for he repeated
the first on the moment, he exclaimed—
“Ah! you are too stationary, by half, to stir
up the soul of your liquors. Wine should never
in the trough of a sea for a few months; then,
indeed, you may set it asleep, and yourself by
the side of it, if you like a cat's nap.”
“As orthodox a direction for the ripening of
wine as was ever given by a bishop to his butler!”
exclaimed his adversary. Another significant
glance from his dark-looking superior,
again checked his wilful playfulness, when Howe
profited by the silence, to say with the frank air
of a liberal host—
“As motion is, just now, denied us, the only
means I can devise, to prevent my wine from
slumbering on its lees, is to drink it.”
“Besides which, we are threatened with a visit
from Mr. Washington, and his thirsty followers,
who may save us all trouble in the matter, unless
we prove industrious. In such a dilemma, Mr.
Graves will not hesitate to pledge me in a glass,
though it should be only to disappoint the rebels!”
added Burgoyne, making a graceful inclination to
the half-offended seaman.
“Ay, ay, I would do much more disagreeable
things to cheat the rascals of their plunder,” returned
the mollified admiral, good-naturedly nodding
his head before he swallowed his bumper—
“If there be any real danger of the loss of such
liquid amber as this, 'twould be as well to send
it along-side my ship, and I will hoist it in,
and find it a birth, though it shares my own
cott. I believe I command a fortress which neither
Yankee, Frenchman, nor Don, would like
to besiege, unless at a respectful distance.”
The officers around him looked exceedingly
grave, exchanging glances of great meaning,
though all continued silent, as if the common subject
of their meditations was too delicate to be
loudly uttered in such a presence. At length the
of his superior, and who had, hitherto, said nothing
during the idle dialogue, ventured a remark,
with the gravity and distance of a man
who was not certain of his welcome.
“Our enemies grow bold as the season advances,”
he said, “and it is past a doubt that
they will find us employment in the coming
summer. It cannot be denied but they conduct
themselves with great steadiness in all
their batteries, especially in this last, at the
water-side; nor am I without apprehension that
they will yet get upon the islands, and render the
situation of the shipping hazardous.”
“Get upon the islands! drive the fleet from
their anchors!” exclaimed the veteran sailor,
in undisguised amazement; “I shall account it
a happy day for England, when Washington and
his rabble trust themselves within reach of our
shot!”
“God grant us a chance at the rascals with the
bayonet in the open field,” cried Howe, “and an
end of these winter-quarters! I say winter-quarters,
for I trust no gentleman can consider this
army as besieged by a mob of armed peasants!
We hold the town, and they the country; but
when the proper time shall come—well, sir, your
pleasure,” he continued, interrupting himself to
speak to an upper servant at his elbow.
The man, who had stood for more than a
minute, in an attitude of respectful attention,
anxious to catch the eye of his master, muttered
his message in a low and hurried voice,
as if unwilling to be heard by others, and at the
same time conscious of the impropriety of whispering.
Most of those around him turned their
heads in polite indifference, but the old sailor,
who sat too near to be totally deaf, had caught
provoke all his merriment, after such a free indulgence
of the bottle. Striking his hand smartly
on the table, he exclaimed, with a freedom
that no other present could have presumed to
use—
“A sail! a sail! by George a sail! under
what colours, friend; king's, or rebels? Here
has been a blunder, with a vengeance! The
cook has certainly been too late, or the lady
is too early! ha, ha, ha—Oh! you are wicked,
free livers in the army!”
The tough old tar enjoyed his joke exceedingly,
chuckling with inward delight at his discovery.
He was, however, alone in his merriment,
none of the soldiers venturing to understand
his allusions, any further than by exchanging
a few stolen looks of unusual archness.
Howe bit his lips, with obvious vexation, and
sternly ordered the man to repeat his errand
in a voice that was more audible.
“A lady,” said the trembling menial, “wishes
to see your excellency, and she waits your pleasure,
sir, in the library.”
“Among his books, too!” shouted the admiral—“that
would have better become you, my
joking friend! I say, young man, is the girl
young and handsome?”
“By the lightness of her step, sir, I should
think her young; but her face was concealed
under a hood.”
“Ay! ay! the jade comes hooded into the
house of the king! Damn me, Howe, but modesty
is getting to be a rare virtue amongst you
gentlemen on shore!”
“'Tis a plain case against you, sir, for even
the servant, as you find, has detected that she
is light of carriage,” said the smiling Burgoyne,
some applicant for relief, or for permission
to depart the place. Suffer me to see her, and
spare yourself the pain of a refusal?”
“Not at all,” said Howe, gaining his feet with
an alacrity that anticipated the more deliberate
movement of the other—“I should be unworthy
of the trust I hold, could I not lend an occasional
ear to a petition. Gentlemen, as there is
a lady in the case, I presume to trespass on your
indulgence. Admiral, I commend you to my butler,
who is a worthy fellow, and can give you
all the cruises of the bottle before you, since it
left the island of Madeira.”
He inclined his head to his guests, and passed
from the room with a hurried step, that did not
altogether consult appearances. As he proceeded
through the hall, his ears were saluted by
another burst from the hearty old seaman, who,
however, enjoyed his humour alone, the rest of
the party immediately turning to other subjects,
with well-bred dullness. On entering the room
already mentioned, Howe found himself in the
presence of the female, who, notwithstanding their
apparent indifference, was at that very moment
occupying the thoughts, and exercising the ingenuity
of every man he had left behind him.
Advancing at once to the centre of the apartment,
with the ease and freedom of a soldier
who felt himself without a superior, he asked,
with a politeness somewhat equivocal—
“Why am I favoured with this visit? and
why has a lady whose appearance shows she
might command friends at any time, assumed
this personal trouble?”
“Because I am a supplicant for a favour that
might be denied to one who petitioned coldly,”
returned a soft, tremulous voice, deep within the
to observe the usual forms of applications
I have presumed to come in person, to prevent
delay.”
“And surely, one like you, can have little
reason to dread a repulse,” said Howe, with
an attempt at gallantry, that would have better
become the man who had offered to be
his substitute. While speaking he advanced a
step nigher to the lady, and pointing to her
hood, he continued—“Would it not be wise to
aid your request, with a view of a countenance
that I am certain can speak better than any
words—whom have I the honour to receive, and
what may be the nature of her business?”
“A wife who seeks her husband,” returned the
female, dropping the folds of her calash, and
exposing to his steady eyes, the commanding
loveliness of the chaste countenance of Cecil
The sudden annunciation of her character was
forced from the lips of the unclaimed bride,
by the freedom of a gaze to which she was
unused; but the instant she had spoken, her
eyes fell on the floor in embarrassment, and she
stood deeply blushing at the strength of her
own language, though preserving all the apparent
composure and dignity of female pride.
The English general regarded her beauty for
a moment, with a pleased, though doubting eye,
before he continued—
“Is he whom you seek within or without the
town?”
“I much fear, without!”
“And you would follow him into the camp of
the rebels? This is a case that may require some
deliberation. I feel assured I entertain a lady of
great beauty; might I, in addition, know how
to address her?”
“For my name I can have no reason to blush,”
said Cecil, proudly—“ 'tis noble in the land of
our common ancestors, and may have reached the
ears of Mr. Howe—I am the child of the late colonel
Dynevor.” '
“The niece of Lord Cardonnell!” exclaimed
her auditor, in amazement, instantly losing the
equivoeal freedom of his manner in an air of
deep respect—“I have long known that Boston
contained such a lady; nor do I forget that she is
accused of concealing herself from the attentions
of the army, like one of the most obdurate of our
foes—attentions which every man in the garrison
would be happy to show her, from myself down
to the lowest ensign—do me the honour to be
seated?”
Cecil bowed her acknowledgments, but continued
standing—
“I have neither time nor spirits to defend myself
from such an imputation,” she answered—
“though should my own name prove no passport
to your favour, I must claim it in behalf of him I
seek.”
“Should he be the veriest rebel in the train of
Washington, he has great reason to be proud of
his fortune!”
“So far from ranking among the enemies of the
king, he has already been lavish of his blood in
behalf of the crown,” returned Cecil, unconsciously
raising the calash again, with maiden bashfulness,
as she felt the moment was approaching
when she must declare the name of the man,
whose influence over her feelings she had already
avowed.
“And he is called?”
The answer was given to this direct question, in
a low but distinct voice. Howe started when he
heard the well-known name of an officer of so
lighted his dark features, as he repeated her
words in surprise—
“Major Lincoln! his refusal to return to Europe,
in search of health, is then satisfactorily explained!
Without the town did you say! there
must be some error.”
“I fear it is too true!”
The harsh features of the leader contracted
again into their sternest look, and it was apparent
how much he was disturbed by the intelligence.
“This is presuming too far on his privilege,”
he muttered in an under tone.—“Left
the place, say you, without my knowledge and
approbation, young lady?”
“But on no unworthy errand!” cried the almost
breathless Cecil, instantly losing sight of herself
in her anxiety for Lionel—“private sorrows
have driven him to an act, that, at another time, he
would be the first to condemn, as a soldier.”
Howe maintained a cool, but threatening silence,
that was far more appalling than any words
could be. The alarmed wife gazed at his lowering
face for a minute, as if to penetrate his
secret thoughts, then yielding, with the sensitiveness
of a woman, to her worst apprehensions,
she cried—
“Oh! you would not avail yourself of this confession
to do him harm! Has he not bled for
you; lingered for months on the verge of the
grave, in defence of your cause; and will you
now doubt him! Nay, sir, though chance and
years may have subjected him, for a time, to your
controul, he is every way your equal, and will
confront each charge before his Royal Master,
let who may bring them against his spofless
name!”
“ 'Twill be necessary,” the other coldly replied.
“Nay, hearken not to my weak, unmeaning
words,” continued Cecil, wringing her hands,
in doubting distress; “I know not what I say,
He has your permission to hold intercourse with
the country weekly?”
“For the purpose of obtaining the supplies
necessary to his past condition.”
“And may he not have gone on such an
errand, and under favour of the flag you yourself
have cheerfully accorded?”
“In such a case would I not have been spared
the pain of this interview!”
Cecil paused a moment, and seemed collecting
her scatiered faculties, and preparing her mind for
some serious purpose. After a little time, she attempted
a painful smile, saying, more calmly—
“I had presumed too far on military indulgence,
and was even weak enough to believe the
request would be granted to my name and situation.”
“No name, no situation, no circumstances,
can ever render”—
“Speak not the cruel words, least they once
more drive me from my recollection,” interrupted
Cecil. “First hear me, sir—listen to a wife
and a daughter, and you will recall the cruel sentence.”
Without waiting for a reply, she advanced with
a firm and proud step to the door of the room,
passing her astonished companion with an eye
and a face beaming with the fullness of her
object. In the outer passage, she beckoned from
among the loiterers in the hall, to the stranger who
had accompanied her in the visit to the warehouse,
and when he had approached, and entered
the room, the door once more closed, leaving
such a vision of purity could have made its way
within the sullied walls of Province-house.
Many long and impatient minutes were passed
by the guests in the banqueting-room, during
the continuance of this mysterious interview.
The jests of the admiral began to flag,
just as his companions were inclined to think they
were most merited, and the conversation assumed
that broken and disjointed character which
betrays the wandering of the speakers' thoughts.
At length a bell rang, and orders came
from the commander-in-chief, to clear the hall
of its curious idlers. When none were left
but the regular domestics of the family, Howe
appeared, supporting Cecil, closely hooded, to
the conveyance that awaited her presence at
the gate. The air of their master communicated
a deep respect to the manners of the
observant menials, who crowded about their persons,
to aid the departure, with officious zeal.
The amazed sentinels dropped their arms, with
the usual regularity, to their chieftain, as he
passed to the outer portal in honour of his unknown
companion, and eyes met the expressive
glances of eyes, as all who witnessed the termination
of this visit, sought in the countenances
of those around them, some solution of its object.
When Howe resumed his seat at the table,
another attempt was made by the admiral to
renew the subject; but it was received with an
air so cold, and a look so pointedly severe,
that even the careless son of the ocean forgot
his humour under the impression of so dark a
frown.
| CHAPTER XII. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston | |