University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

The domestic party that we left at the house of
Mr. Trevor were variously affected by the history of
the occurrences detailed in the last chapter. Arthur
had been slightly indisposed, and his uncle had made
that a pretext for keeping him out of harm's way.
But when he heard what had passed, his spirit was
roused, and he felt as a soldier who hears the history
of some well-fought battle where he was not permitted
to be present. To Virginia the whole story was
a subject of wonderment and alarm. The idea that
her dear uncle, and her dearer brother, had been engaged
in an affair where “dirk and pistol” was the
word, threw her into a flutter of trepidation. She
could not refrain from asking the former whether he
would have shot the poor man sure enough; and
received his affirmative answer with a shudder. The
feelings of Lucia did not much differ from hers, except
in intensity. She had heard too much to be

wholly unprepared for such things, and her mind
was too much accustomed to take its tone from those
of her mother and sister.

On these ladies the impression made by the events
of the day was wholly different. If the countenance
of Mrs. Trevor was more thoughtful than before, it
only spoke of higher thoughts. Her eye was
brighter, her carriage more erect, her step more free,
while her smile had less, perhaps, of quiet satisfaction,
but more of hope. The flutter of youthful feelings,
and the sweeter and more tender thoughts
proper to one newly betrothed, made the chief difference
between Delia and her mother. But while
Douglas saw in the latter all the evidence of those
high qualities which fit a woman to be not merely
the consolation and joy of her husband, but his sage
adviser and useful friend, he saw enough in Delia to
show that she, in due time, would be to him all that
her mother was to his uncle.

A few days afterwards, Mr. B— arrived, and his
appearance was a signal of joy to the whole family.
Douglas now, for the first time, discovered that he
stood in some interesting, though undefined relation
to them, and especially to his aunt. That there was
no connexion of blood or marriage he knew; yet the
feelings of the parties towards each other were mutually
filial and paternal. The imposing dignity of
Mrs. Trevor's manner seemed to be surrendered in
his presence. Her maiden name of Margaret, which

no other lip but that of her husband would have ventured
to profane, was that by which alone he ever
accosted her, and that generally accompanied with
some endearing epithet. The girls would sit upon
his knee, and play familiarly and affectionately with
his grey locks; while the servants, in the proud
humility of their attention to his wants and wishes,
seemed hardly to distinguish between him and their
beloved and honored master. It was not to be believed
that the family kept any secrets from him, so
that Douglas could not doubt that he was privy to
his little affair of the heart. And so he was; and his
manner toward the young man was, from the first,
that of a near kinsman, hardly differing in any thing
from that of his uncle. As far as coincidence of sentiment
and similarity of character could explain this
close intimacy, it stood explained. Between him
and Mr. Trevor there were many points of strong
similitude. But to Mrs. Trevor the resemblance was
more striking. Age and sex seemed to make the
only difference between them.

But, in addition to this domestic relation, which
embraced every member of the household down to
the scullion and shoe-black, there was obviously
some understanding between the gentlemen in regard
to matters of much higher concernment. Indeed,
no pains were taken to conceal this fact,
though, during Mr. B—'s former visit, Douglas had

not been admitted to any of their consultations but
that which concerned himself.

It was not long before the two were closeted, in
the little study, in close conclave; and soon after,
a message was delivered to Douglas requesting his
presence.

“I am the bearer of important intelligence,” said
B—, holding out his hand to the youth as he entered;
“and as it particularly concerns you, as well
as your uncle, you must perforce consent to become
privy to our council.”

“I am not sorry to hear it,” replied Douglas.
“If any thing was wanting to banish all reserve between
us, I would be content to suffer some loss to
effect that object.”

“I believe you,” said B—, “and therefore expect
you will the less regret an unpleasant circumstance,
which, without your act or consent, and even in
spite of you, binds you in the same bundle with us.”

“That was already done,” said Douglas. “What
new tie can there be?”

“One of the strongest. The union of your name
with your uncle's in a warrant for high treason from
the court of high commission at Washington.”

“You speak riddles,” said Douglas. “The only
instance in which I ever incurred the displeasure of
the President, was one which no human ingenuity
could torture into treason; and certainly my uncle
had no hand in that.”

“But, having then incurred the displeasure of the
Government, what if you should since have been
concerned in any matter which might be called
treason?”

“But there has been no such matter.”

“My dear boy,” said Mr. Trevor, “the question
is not of what we have done. Had we actually done
any thing culpable, there would be no occasion for
this warrant from Washington. Our own courts,
and a jury of peers, may be trusted to try the guilty.
But when men are to be tried for what they have not
done, then resort must be had to this new court of
high commission at Washington, and to a jury of
office-holders.”

“But where,” asked Douglas, “is the warrant
of which you speak?”

“That I cannot exactly say,” said B—. “I am
not even sure that it is yet in existence. But that it
is, or will be, is certain. I need not explain to you
my means of knowledge. Your uncle is acquainted
with them, and knows that what I tell you is certain.
The transactions of the election day will be made the
subject of a capital charge, and it is intended to convey
you both to Washington to answer it there. I
am come to advise you both of this, that you may
determine what course to pursue.”

“My course is plain,” said Douglas. “To meet
the charge, and refute it.”

“Are you aware,” said B. “who is the Judge of
this court of high commission?”

“I think I have somehow understood that it is
Judge Baker.”

“The father of your friend, Philip Baker, the
younger. Now are you aware that, but a few days
before the court was constituted, he and other judges
were consulted, and declared it to be so grossly unconstitutional
that no judge would preside in it?”

“I see that so it should be declared, but did not
know that such opinion had been given.”

“Yet so it was. Now where, do you think, the
considerations were found by which the honorable
gentleman's honorable scruples were overcome? Of
course, you cannot conjecture. You would find it,
all too late, if you, by placing yourself in his power,
afforded him an opportunity of gratifying the malice
of his son, without exposing his cowardice and
meanness. I see you doubt my means of knowledge.
Your uncle told me nothing of young Whiting's
communication to the President. Yet I knew of it.
I know,” continued B—, not regarding the amazement
of Douglas, “that, but for that letter, you
would not have been permitted to resign; and that
Judge Baker's scruples about presiding in this new
court were overcome by hushing up the enquiry,
which would have dishonored his son, and substituting
a proceeding which should number you among
the victims of his power, without implicating the

name of his son. As to my means of knowledge,
when knaves can get honest men to be the instruments
of their villany, they may expect not to be
betrayed. Until then, they must bear the fate of all
who work with sharp tools.”

“There can be no doubt,” said Mr. Trevor, “of
the fate prepared for us, should we fall into the hands
of our enemies. To be summoned to trial before a
court constituted for the sole purpose of entertaining
prosecutions which cannot be sustained elsewhere, is
to be notified of a sentence already passed. To obey
such a summons, is to give the neck to the halter.
The question is, then, what is to be done to evade it.
Our friend B— proposes that your brother and sister
be sent home, and that you and I, and my family,
withdraw to Carolina. How say you?”

“I have the same difficulty that I had, the other
day, about tendering my resignation. But, in this
instance, it appears with more force. To fly from
justice is always taken as evidence of conscious
guilt.”

“About that,” said Mr. Trevor, “I feel small
concern on my own account, as I certainly mean to
commit what all who deny the sovereignty of Virginia
will call high treason.”

“Then why not take up arms at once? I have
much misunderstood appearances, since I have been
here, if the means, not of evading, but resisting
this attack, are not already organized.”

“The time is not yet ripe for action,” said Mr.
Trevor. “Had it been so, I should not have waited
until my own head was in jeopardy, before striking the blow. Nor should my own personal danger
precipitate it.”

“But what fitter time can there be to call the people
to arms, than at this moment, when their minds
are heated by the late violent invasion of the elective
franchise? What more exciting spectacle could be
presented than the sight of a citizen seized as a traitor,
and dragged away in chains, to answer, before an unconstitutional
tribunal, for maintaining this franchise?”

“Are you then prepared to resist, at the point of
the bayonet, this unconstitutional warrant, as a thing
void and of no authority?”

“I am,” replied Douglas, with energy. “And I
will say more,” said he, speaking with solemn earnestness.
“I have seen enough to make my duty plain;
and I am prepared to go as far as you, yourself, in
asserting and maintaining the sovereignty of Virginia
at every hazard.”

“That being the case,” said B—, “as you will
not disagree about the end, you must not differ about
the means, nor lose time in discussing them. We
are not thinking of this subject for the first time. We
see the whole ground, and act under the influence of
considerations which we have no time to detail. Are
you then, my young friend, prepared to give us so

much of your confidence as this. We say to you,
`Go with us where we go, and trust our assurance
that when we have leisure to explain all, you will
find our plan the best.' Are you content? Are you
now ready to carry into execution our matured plan,
so far as it has been disclosed to you, trusting all
the details to us? Remember—if you say yes to this,
we stop no more to deliberate or explain until we are
in a place of safety. Until then, you place yourself
under orders; and you have learned how to obey.
How say you? Are you content?

Douglas paused, reflected a minute or two, and
then, extending a hand to Mr. B—, and one to his
uncle, said earnestly: “I am; command, and I
will obey. But which of you am I to obey?”

“Mr. B—,” said Mr. Trevor, “under whose command
I now place myself.”

“Then to business,” said B—. “Warn your
brother, at once, of the necessity of returning home
with your sister, and see that he makes the needful
preparations for his departure at an early hour to-morrow.
The boy's heart will have some hankerings
that will make it necessary for you to look after him,
and urge him to exertion. You, Trevor, must expedite
the arrangements for the removal of your family.
Pass the word to Margaret and Delia. You may
trust much to their efficiency. I am afraid we cannot
expect much more from my poor little Lucia, just
now, than from Arthur. Now, Trevor, give me the

keys of your arm-room; let Douglas join me there,
as soon as he has set Arthur to work, and, in the
meantime, send Jack to me there. I will play quartermaster,
while you make arrangements for the
muster of the black watch.”

“The black watch!” said Douglas, with an enquiring
look.

“Aye,” said B—. “The sidier dhu—the trusty
body guard of a Virginia gentleman. His own faithful
slaves.”

“The slaves!” said Douglas. “What use shall
we have for them?”

“I have no time to answer now,” said B—.
“Ask me that when you come to me in the arm-room.
At present you must attend to Arthur. We have no
time to lose.”

Douglas now remembered his enlistment, and betook
himself, with the prompt alacrity of an old
soldier, to the fulfilment of his orders.