University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
A BREAKING UP.

They who remained at the dinner table were at
last summoned to tea and coffee in the adjoining
apartment, where the ladies of the family were assembled.
It was about sunset, and Mr. Tracy's
carriage, with two or three saddle horses, was at the
door. As soon as this short meal was despatched,
Catharine and Bel made their preparations for departure.
Ned, like a flustered lover, was officiously
polite in his attentions to the lady of his affections:
he had brought Bel her bonnet, and assisted in adjusting
it to her head, with supererogatory care; and,
as he led her to the carriage, he took occasion, with
many figures of speech, to tell her how much he participated
in the affliction she had experienced by the
loss of Fairbourne; and, as he was sure the recreant
did not meditate a total separation from his mistress,
he vowed to bring him back to her if he was to be
found alive in the county. Bel endeavoured to
evade the service tendered; and, getting into the
coach, she and Catharine were soon in full progress
homeward.

Mr. Tracy's horse was led up to the steps, and
the old gentleman, after some civil speeches to the
company, a little bragging of his ability as a horseman,

and a respectful valedictory to Meriwether,
clambered up with a slow but unassisted effort into
his saddle.

“I should make a brave fox-hunter yet, Mr.
Wart,” said he with some exultation, when he found
himself in his seat, “and would puzzle you to throw
me out on a fair field. You see I can drink, too, with
the best of you. I am good pith yet, Mr. Meriwether!”

“Upon my word, sir,” said Meriwether, smiling,
“you do wonders! There is not to-day in Virginia,
a better mounted horseman of the same age.”

“Good eating and drinking, Mr. Meriwether, and
good wine warm the blood of an old grasshopper like
me, and set him to chirping, if he can do nothing
else. Come Ralph, you and Harvey must get to
your horses: I will have my aide-de-camps. Mount,
you young dogs, and never lag! I allow no grass to
grow to my horse's heels, I warrant ye! Mount
and begone!”

The two attendants obeyed the order, and reined
their steeds near to his.

“Now don't run away from us,” said Harvey.

“Why, as I think upon it again, Harvey, more
maturely,” replied the old gentleman, “I think we
will jog along slowly; we might alarm the horses of
the carriage if we got to any of our harum-scarum
pranks. So, good evening! good evening!”

With these words the cavalcade set forward at a
brisk walk, Mr. Tracy gesticulating in a manner
that showed him to be engaged in an animated conversation
with his companions.

Soon after this, Mr. Swansdown's curricle was
brought to the door. This gentleman, with a languid
and delicate grace, apprized Meriwether that
he was about “to wing his flight” to Meherrin,
there to immerse himself in pursuits which his present
visit had suspended; and, consequently, he could not
promise himself the pleasure of soon again meeting
his worthy friend at Swallow Barn. He reminded
his host, however, that he would carry into his retirement
the agreeable consciousness that his visit had
not been a fruitless one, since it had contributed so
happily to the termination of an ancient dispute. He
particularly insisted on the honour of a return visit
from Meriwether and his friends.

His parting with the ladies might be said to have
been even touching. It presented an elegant compound
of sensibility and deference. Prudence could
not possibly mistake the impression he designed to
convey to her. He gently shook her gloved finger, as
he said, with a gentle and embarrassed smile, “I particularly
regret that the nature of the occupation to
which I am about to return is such as to engross me
for some months, and most probably may compel me
again to cross the Atlantic. It is likely, therefore,
that I shall have added some years to my account
before we meet again. Your fate will be doubtless
changed before that happens: as for mine, I need
scarcely allude to it; I am already written down a
predestined cumberer of the soil. I still may hope,
I trust, to be sometimes remembered as a passing
shadow.”

“He means to write a book, and die a bachelor,

poor devil! That is the English of this flourish,” said
Ned to Prudence, as soon as Swansdown walked
towards the front door.

Pru was silent, and inwardly vexed. At length
she said to Ned, “He attaches more consequence
to his movements than any body else.”

Shortly after this, the glittering vehicle, with its
dainty burden, was seen darting into the distant
forest.

One after another our guests followed, until none
were left but Mr. Wart and Hedges, who having
determined to ride together as far as the Court House,
were waiting, as they said, until the night should
fairly set in, in order that they might have the coolness
of the “little hours” for their journey.

“Well, Mr. Chub,” said Philly, “what do you
think of our friend Swansdown?”

“I am glad he is gone,” replied the parson; “in
my opinion he is very fatiguing.”

In a few minutes after this, the counsellor dropped
asleep in his chair, leaving Meriwether in an unusually
argumentative mood, but unfortunately without
a listener. Frank had drawn up to the window,
and thrown his feet carelessly against the sill,
so as to give himself that half recumbent posture
which is supposed to be most favourable to all calm
and philosophic discussions. He had launched upon
one of those speculative voyages in which it was his
wont to circumnavigate the world of thought; and
as there were no lights in the room, he continued to
pour into the unconscious ears of his friend Wart
his startling random-shots of wisdom, for half an

hour before he became aware of his unedifying labour.
Finding, however, that no answer came from
the quarter to which he addressed himself, he suddenly
stopped short with the exclamation, “God
bless me! Mr. Wart, have you been asleep all this
time? truly, I have been sowing my seed upon a
rock. But sleep on, don't let me disturb you.”

“Asleep!” replied Philly, waking up at hearing
himself addressed by name, as a man who dozes in
company is apt to do; “not I, I assure you: I have
heard every word you have said. It was altogether
just; indeed I couldn't gainsay a word, but I think,
Mr. Hedges, it is time for us to be moving.”

Meriwether laughed, and remarked that Mr.
Hedges had left the room some time since with Mr.
Chub.

“At all events,” said Philly, “we will have our
horses. It is time we were upon our journey.”

Every effort was made to detain him and his companion
until the next morning; but the counsellor
was obstinate in his resolve to be off that night, observing
that he had already taken a longer holiday
at Swallow Barn than he had allowed himself in the
last fifteen years; “and as to the hour,” said he, “I
am an old stager on the road, and have long since
lost all discrimination between night and day.”

“But it is very dark,” said Hazard, “and threatens
rain. You will assuredly be caught in a thunder
storm before you get three miles.”

“Wet or dry,” replied the other, “it makes but a
small matter in the account. I don't think a shower
would take much of the gloss from my old coat,”

he added, looking round at his skirts, “and as for
Hedges here, I know he is neither sugar nor salt.”

“With a julep before we go,” said Hedges, “and
another when we stop, you may put as much wet
and darkness between the two as you please, for
me. So let us pad our saddles according to the old
recipe, `A spur in the head is worth two on the
heel.”'

Saying this, he went to the sideboard and helped
himself rather beyond the approved allowance. “I
have a laudable contempt for thin potations, Mr.
Wart,” he added as he took off his glass.

The horses were at the door; it was now about
ten o'clock; when the two travellers were mounted,
Philly whistled up his hounds, and they set forward
on their dark journey.