University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
THE GUEST AT THE INN.

It was about an hour after noon on the
eventful day of the happy meeting of Red
Beard with his father, that the party of four
men reached the abode of the former. It
was a rude but compactly built log cabin,
whitened with cement, and enclosed by a
paling. Behind it was a large field of several
acres, bordered by a forest. In front of
the house flowed a rapid stream, the ceaseless
brawling of which over the large rocks
that filled its bed, was heard night and day.

The recluse bore the fatigue of the long
walk from the mountain with a vigor and endurance
that surprised the younger men.
He refused the offered support of Griffitt, and
only leaned from time to time upon his son
more in affection than from weariness. He
seemed buoyed up and sustained by the resolute
desire and resolve to spend his best
strength in promoting the interests of his
son.

The next day, Red Beard seeing that he
was rested and was impatient to go forward
to embark for England, took Griffitt aside
and said to him,

`What shall be done, master Ringold?
Think you, you can pursue this false Earl of
* * * *, for me, and bring him to confession
of his crime? I know that my honored
father believes in my mother's innocence;
still I would have it confirmed so that the
devil of jealousy shall not have a needle's
point on which to rest an after doubt. This
man shall be found, if I have to delay my
father's and my departure for England.'

`And then you go to England, sir?' said
Ringold. `I am glad you have such good reason
to go, yet sorry; for I have learned to
love thee, master Burnside, and I shall be
grieved to part from thee, as I must, forever.'

`Nay, that need not be. You shall be my
companion. You have been a partner of my
confidence, you have witnessed, nay, been
the instrument of my discovering and meeting
with my father, for if you had not seen
the likeness between us, I should never have
known him to be my father. You must go
with us to England, most certainly. Then,
doubtless, I shall have wealth and power,
and may be able to aid you in the advancement
of your art. Your eyes sparkle! I
see I have touched the right chord; it is settled
then that you go with me,' added Red
Beard, as he grasped the hand of the grateful
and happy young man.

`I should be insincere to say that I do not
wish to go. I accept your offer as I have
means enough to get there without burdening
you. Otherwise I should refuse to go.'

`Very well, you can do as you please. By
and by, when we get to England, we will
talk together. Now about the villainous
earl.'

`Since the extraordinary recognition of

your father,' said Griffit, `I should not be
surprised if he were indeed the man you
think, or rather dreamed he is.'

`I have not questioned the fact. But when
we catch him, my father can satisfy us on
the point. Is it not time for Whitlock to return?'

`Yes, nearly so. I told him, when he left
last night, to keep on as far as the Elk fork,
where the three roads diverged from the
northern one, till he could ascertain which
they took, which he will be able to do at the
inn, there. He is coming already. I hear
the galloping of his horse up the road.'

While he was speaking, Ned Whitlock,
who had taken Red Beard's horse and, at
his request, ridden across the valley to follow
and inquire about the direction taken
by the sleigh with the greys, made his appearance
before the cabin.

`Well, the news,' demanded Red Beard,
with impatience. `I see by your looks you
have news.'

`Yes,' answered Whitlock with animation,
`I reached the Elk fork inn at twelve o'clock
last night, and instead of finding it buried in
darkness I found lights in the house and
the people up. On going in I learned that
a sleigh and pair of grey horses in attempting
to cross the Elk on the ice, yesterday morning,
had broken through and the horses and
one of the men were drowned, while the
other—'

`Heaven grant it be not the earl who was
lost,' cried Red Beard with an excited manner.

`The one who was lost was a short fat
man, while the other, an elderly man with
white hair, was saved, but insensible from the
cold.'

`It is he! Water could not drown him
till he hath confessed the innocence of the
wronged,' exclaimed Robert Burnside with a
voice which his feelings had made almost
furious. `Tell me he was restored and
lives.'

`He does live. He was taken to the inn,
but for several hours did not come to life;
but at length they brought him to himself.'

`Yes, yes. It could not be otherwise.—
His time had not come. Did you see him?'

`I found in the inn tap-room several of the
neighbors talking about the accident, and
speculating whether the man who was drowned
had not sunk on account of the weight of
gold they supposed he had about him. From
them I learned that the one who was saved
was in bed up stairs and asleep, under the
influence of a draught the landlady had given
him.'

`And was he doing well, said they of whom
you asked?'

`Yes: the landlord told me “he was not
bruised much by the ice, and would, without
doubt, get well, though he thought he would
be apt to lay there some weeks;” a result
which seemed to please him very much, for
he had satisfied himself, in the way landlords
have, that his guest had gold.'

`When did you leave the inn?'

`At four this morning, only delaying to
bait my horse and myself; and I have come
the twenty-eight miles from there in good
time.'

`Did you see the invalid?

`No.'

`Did you let the landlord know you come
on purpose to inquire after the sleigh and
grey horses?'

`Not a word.'

`It is well. Master Griffit, Providence
seems to favor me. Let us be, in another
hour, on the road to this inn. Let us embrace
the good fortune while it is in our
grasp. This earl may awake well and take
wing and escape us wholly.'

`We cannot be too diligent, sir,' continued
Ringold. `It does seem that he has been
thrown into our hands. How shall we proceed
thither?'

`We have but one horse among us, we
poor dwellers in the valley,' said Whitlock,
who had been made sufficiently acquainted
with the outlines of Red Beard's singular

history as to cause him to enter with great
interest and spirit into his wishes. `This
horse will be as good as ever after two hours'
rest and feeding.'

`We want the horse, for my father must go
with us,' said Red Beard, with decision.—
`He must go with us, Master Ringold, that
if this should prove to be the nobleman, he
may hear also from his own lips the confirmation
of his wife's purity.'

`It is then necessary that he should be
with us. You can mount him upon the
horse, while we walk by his side.'

`That is my plan. Five hours' walk will
bring us to the inn. Let us at once prepare
to start in two hours.'

`I shall be ready in an hour. I have only
to go to my home for a few minutes and bid
my mother good bye, in case we should be
absent long.'

`You never forget your filial duties. Happy
are you who have always had a parent. I
begin mine full late, but the affection of the
son, Master Griffitt, gushes from my heart
as fresh as from a newly opened spring.'

`Shall I go also with you?' asked Whitlock,
with some hesitation, fearing he might be
left behind; for he was anxious to ascertain
the result of the visit to the Inn, being almost
as deeply interested in the fortunes of
Red Beard, as Griffitt himself.

`Yes, Master Whitlock, if you please, we
should like your company,' answered Red
Beard, as he turned and went into the cabin
to prepare his father for the intended journey.

`I thought you would rather go to see
Kate Boyd than go with us a second time
to the Elk fork,' remarked Ringold, with a
smile, as they left the door and walked
towards his house, which was on the opposite
side of a creek, and accessible by a rude
bridge of logs thrown across from bank to
bank, in the most picturesque form. `You
have been two days in the valley and she
has not seen you.'

`I can just go and report myself while you
are at your mother's,' answered Whitlock,
laughing. `Really, I have been so much
taken up with Red Beard, his father the
hermit, and all these strange things that have
happened in the last two days, that I have
had no time to think of Kate: and then you
know I rode off last night in search of this
earl. I wonder if he is an earl?'

`I do not question it at all, since this discovery
of Red Beard's father in the recluse.
I am prepared for any wonders.'

`Then it is true that the hermit is an old
English nobleman?'

`Without question.'

`And Red Beard then is a lord?'

`He will be at the death of his father.'

`Well, it is odd enough. Strange sort of
people bring up in America. We have had
kings and princes, and French dukes and
counts among us, and every thing but an emperor,
and if Napolean had succeeded in escaping
here, as he wished to, after the battle
of Waterloo, we would have had an emperor.'

`The old world seems to be a theatre in
which the four first acts of the great play of
life are acted, and this new world the scene
of the fifth. But here I am at my door.—
Make my respects to the fair Kate, and if
she is disposed to blame you for indifference,
send her to me and I will excuse you to her
in the most satisfactory manner. But if you
are going with us to the inn you must be
here to meet me and return to Red Beard's
cabin within two hours!'

`I shall not fail. It is but three miles to
Kate's, and love has wings, they say.'

The two young men now parted, and Ringold
entered the plain cottage home where
he was born. His mother hearing his step
and voice, already was at the door. She was
a fair and gentle looking lady, with a mild and
affectionate expression in her face, the youthful
charms of which forty years had not
wholly obliterated.

`You did not come home, last night, Ringold.'

`No, mother: I was with Red Beard.'

`And how is the old hermit, his father,

whom you told me he brought home with
him from the mountain?'

`He is well. Food and rest have given
him new energies, as well, also, the joy at
seeing his son, and the hope of reinstating
him in his rights, of which I told you yesterday.'

`I rejoice for Master Burnside's happiness.
He is now rewarded for his benevolence
and kindness to the widow. Have you
breakfasted?'

`Yes, mother,' answered Ringold: I have
only come over to relieive your anxiety, and
to tell you I am going down the valley for a
day or two; perhaps longer.'

`I can see but very little of you.'

`When I return I shall stay with you altogether,
if—'

Here the young man colored and hesitated.
His mother regarded him with attention, and
said,

`If what? No more absences, my dear
son.'

`You know I told you the history of Red
Beard, yesterday, confidentially?'

`Yes: and never did I know so interesting
a one.'

`Well, he wishes me to go with him to
England, and to be a witness of his happi
ness. Besides he says he should be of service
to me in enabling me to advance the interests
so dear to my heart, my ambition to
excel in the noble art which has embraced in
its followers the first geniuses of the age and
race. You look sad and sorrowful, my dear
mother. But you would not have me remain
forever drudging in the valley or in the winter-camp,
when with my pencil I can not only
follow a pursuit congenial with my tastes
and feelings, but also enrich you with the
proceeds. Filial duty, as well as fame and
glory in perspective, invite me to accept of
Red Beard's invitation. Say your consent,
dear mother. I shall not be more than a year
absent before I return to visit you. I shall
leave you comfortable, and I will send you
money from England. Do not say no, nor
give your consent with such heavy sorrow in
your face.'

`You may go, Ringold. I will sacrifice
my own happiness to yours. But—'

Here he observed a slight smile, a very
slight smile, amid the sadness of her countenance.

`But what, dear mother? You smile.'

`I suspect you ought so add love to the
`fame and glory,' of which you talk.'