12. XII.
THE DRAMA COMMENCES.
GEORGE recognized Falconbridge and Miss Argal.
He rode his white thoroughbred, she her little
filly—and standing in the tall grass which reached
nearly to the backs of their horses, they presented,
in the golden flood of sunlight, a richly picturesque appearance.
“I am very glad to see you,” said Falconbridge, pushing
forward and shaking George's hand, with a gay smile: then
bowing courteously to the stranger, he added, “give you
good day, sir.”
The hunter inclined coolly; but something in the face of
the young man, or his tone of voice, seemed to affect him
strangely. His penetrating gaze riveted itself upon the
proud, laughing features of Falconbridge, and a shadow
passed over his brow, like that from a floating cloud.
“It is strange!” the grim lips murmured; “what a singular
resemblance!”
Falconbridge did not observe the expression or the tone.
He had turned to George, and began to explain how the
young lady and himself, in riding out, had lost their way.
His manner, when he addressed or looked at her, had
changed greatly. There was something ardent and impassioned
in his gaze as it rested on her face; and the lady was
not backward in returning it with looks almost as significant
of her feelings. By some fatality this emotion seemed
suddenly to have ripened in both hearts—thenceforth it was
plain that the young lady was the fate of Falconbridge—his
fate for weal or wo.
“And Miss Argal,” said George, when Falconbridge had
told how they had circled at random over the prairie, “was
she frightened?”
“Oh no! she has behaved like a heroine, in spite of her
utter ignorance of the road back to her home.”
“I can't think where we are,” said the young lady, with
one of her pretty smiles. But for some vague reason George
felt as if this declaration were not true. There was an imperceptible
constraint in her manner as she spoke; and his
truthful instinct told him that there was deception of some
sort beneath her apparent candor. He did not reply, but
turning to his companion said:
“We are not far from Greenway Court, I believe, sir.”
“Some distance,” returned the huntsman coolly, “but the
path is well beaten.”
And with a courteous but cold inclination to the young
lady, he set forward, followed by the party. The sun ran in
a stream of rich purple light across the hills, and far away
beyond the mountains; the golden cloud ships slowly
floated off into the distance and were lost: and as the
shades of night descended and the stars came out, they
reached the old mansion of Greenway.
The tall huntsman tied his bridle to the bough of a tree,
lifted the carcass of the deer to the ground, and turned toward
the porch. As he did so, old John appeared upon the
threshold, and bowing low, respectfully approached.
“Dismount if you please, Miss Argal,” said the hunter,
with grave courtesy, “and honor my poor house with your
presence.”
“Lord Fairfax!” exclaimed George, “I might have known
that you were Lord Fairfax—but my mind was busy with
other thoughts!”
And something like a blush came to the cheeks of the boy
The Earl smiled, and pressing the young man's hand, said
in a friendly tone:
“I am glad you did not know me—had you recognized one
of those ` foxes ' you spoke of, you would have expressed
yourself, perhaps, less honestly.”
And with courteous gesture, Lord Fairfax marshalled his
guests before him into the mansion.
The first object which greeted all eyes, was the huge form
of Captain Wagner stretched in his favorite leathern chair:
he was sound asleep, and his snoring resembled distant
thunder. It was an amusing picture. His cocked hat had
fallen on the floor, and half covered a pipe which had escaped
from the soldier's hand. A half emptied cup of Jamaica
rum at his elbow proved that the sleeper had been also
occupied by the task of drinking after dinner. The long
sword in its leathern scabbard had gotten between the athletic
legs of the Captain, and at every chance movement rattled
fiercely against the rowels of his spurs, or the iron heels
of his large horseman's boots.
“Captain Wagner!” exclaimed the Earl, “so he's here!”
The Borderer stirred in his sleep, and the words “fairest
lady!” escaped from his heavy froth-soiled moustache.
Whether it arose from the nature of his dreams, or from the
vicinity of that lithe and beautiful form, we cannot undertake
to say: but it is certain that when Captain Wagner was
awakened by the loud voice of Lord Fairfax, his conduct
seemed to indicate anything but dreams of ladies. He
started up, seized his sword, and overturning the flagon of
Jamaica with his elbow, threw himself forward, crying “Injuns!
or the devil take me!”
The grim melancholy smile George had already observed,
passed over the face of Lord Fairfax, and he sat down,
courteously motioning to his guests to be seated also. Then
turning to the soldier, who was rubbing his eyes:
“Well, Captain Longknife,” he said grimly, “sleeping on
duty I see. When did you arrive?”
The Captain bowed with great composure, and picked up
his hat.
“You, my lord,” he said, “are responsible for this nap I
have taken, and if I have slept on my post, you see I was
ready at a moment's notice.”
“True; you came near splitting me and my friends
here.”
“That would have been too bad,” said the Captain, “to
split so noble a seigneur as the baron of Cameron; such
brave companions as friend Falconbridge and George, or so
peerless a dame as Miss Argal.”
With which words Captain Wagner executed a stiff inclination
toward the lady in question.
“Thanks, sir,” said Miss Argal in her self-possessed voice.
“I hope in my absence you procured everything you
wished, Captain,” said Lord Fairfax; “old John”——
“Is a trump, or I'm a dandy, my dear sir,” interrupted
the Borderer. “Did I find all I wanted? I believe you!
I'm an old campaigner, and feeling entirely at home had
everybody running, of course.”
“Right, right,” said Lord Fairfax, smiling; “now, with
your permission, we'll have supper, as I'm hungry.”
“My permission!” cried the Captain, “you are jesting!
You could not please me better; I am dying for something
to eat, my dear friend!”
Old John, who was standing respectfully in a corner,
opened his eyes at this statement, in a way that expressed
volumes—but he was far too hospitable to allude to the
Captain's performances at dinner. At a sign from his master
he busied himself at once to get supper—and soon it was
smoking upon the board.
Neither Falconbridge nor Miss Argal seemed in a hurry to
depart; and when after the meal Lord Fairfax urged the
young lady to remain all night, to avoid the chill air, she
consented with very little difficulty. George unconsciously
asked himself if young ladies in his neighborhood ever remained
away thus from home, and treated the feelings of
their relatives with such slight ceremony: but as Falconbridge,
beyond a slight movement of surprise, indicated no
opinion, the youth thought he was unreasonable, and blamed
himself for his growing dislike to the young lady.
She kept her fine eyes cast down bashfully, the greater
part of the time, only raising them occasionally to throw
toward Falconbridge one of those glances full of subtle fascination,
which made her so dangerous. It thus happened
that she did not observe the steady look which Lord Fairfax
bent upon her face. This look, full of admiration, and
so striking in one who seemed to care very little for aught
around him, took in every detail of the surpassingly beautiful
woman's appearance:—the gently arched brows, the ripe
red lips, the rounded chin, and the snowy throat, against
which the dark curls were clearly relieved, making the white
skin more dazzling from the contrast. Miss Argal did not
observe that absorbing look; her marvellous acuteness would
have discerned in it more than it expressed. He soon
turned away, and commenced talking with Captain Wagner,
and George; and thus the hours fled, and bed-time
came. A maid announced that the young lady's apartment
was prepared; and Lord Fairfax, rising, conducted her to the
door, which he courteously opened, and ushered her
through with a ceremonious inclination. She inclined her
head gracefully in turn, and with a quick glance from the
corners of her eyes toward Falconbridge, disappeared.
“What a very beautiful face this young lady has!” said
the Earl, indifferently, “who is she?”
“The daughter of your neighbor Argal,” said the Captain;
“the new settler up there toward Stephensburg.”
“The lady is a friend of yours, I believe, sir,” said the
Earl, turning courteously to Falconbridge. “I do not
know that I have seen you in our neighborhood before.”
“That is easily explained, my lord,” returned Falconbridge,
with the same easy courtesy. “I have but just
reached this region. I have come hither to gather information
as to the condition of a large tract of land which I
own on the South Branch, by grant some years since, from
your lordship's agent there. As to Miss Argal, I think I
may style myself her friend, though our acquaintance has
been short.”
Lord Fairfax bowed and said:
“To-morrow I shall endeavor to afford you the information
you desire, Mr. Falconbridge, and to cut out a task for
you, George, my young Republican.”
“Oh, then you've been debating!” said the Captain, with
a yawn.
“Yes, and George is a leveller—but no matter. I care
for nobody's politics. As long as he surveys accurately, and
you, Captain, drive off the Indians, I'm content. And now,
gentlemen, I must bid you good-night. I am really weary.
Your apartments are all prepared.”
With these words the Earl inclined his head, and rang a
little silver bell, which speedily brought old John to the
apartment. In half an hour, the whole mansion was silent.
Were all sleeping?
