University of Virginia Library

2. II.
GREENWAY COURT.

GREENWAY COURT was a long, stone building,
with an extensive portico, and the roof was overshadowed
by the boughs of lofty locust trees.

At each end rose a slender chimney; between,
upon the summit of the roof, were seen two belfries; beneath,
three or four dormer windows were brushed by the
October foliage.

At fifty paces from the mansion, and connected with it by
a winding path, across the sward, a low stone cabin nestled
under a great tree—and here Lord Fairfax, sitting in state,
with his court of deer-hounds, had delivered the title deeds
of nearly all that portion of Virginia.

The grounds of the mansion were encircled by a rude
fence, and to this fence Captain Wagner proceeded to
attach his horse, in which he was imitated by his companions.

They were not, however, the first comers. Near at hand
were seen two animals, tethered in the same manner; one, a
plain, substantial cob; the other a slender-legged filly, covered
with a cloth, which evidently concealed a woman's
saddle.

Captain Wagner gazed intently for an instant, at the two
animals, which seemed familiar to him; pulled his moustache
upward with his finger, nodded confidentially, and then went
with long strides toward the house, his companions following.

The main room, which the Borderer now entered, was
peculiar. It was an apartment hung around with guns,
blunderbuses, antlers, portraits, fishing nets, and long
tapering rods. The walls were rough and rudely plastered

—the furniture oaken, with the exception of two or three
high-backed, carven chairs of mahogany, then very rare;
and on some shelves in one corner, near a buffet of oak, a
number of old volumes in brown leather binding were visible,
much worn and soiled. Among these was a fine embossed
copy of the “Spectator,” lately printed in London,
to which the owner of the mansion had contributed some
papers, written perhaps in the study of his friend, Joseph
Addison.

It will thus be seen that the apartment was a striking
exhibition of the commingling of two things—refinement,
and rudeness, of two types, the court and the backwoods.
This characteristic was further apparent in the jumble of silver
plate, and cheap gaily-colored crockery on the buffet: and
finally, the muzzle of a rifle standing in the corner had
forced itself between the leaves of one of those volumes in
which serene Mr. Addison discussed the last refinements of
the luxurious society of England.

This was the apartment which the travellers entered—to
whose broad fire-place, with its crackling sticks, they drew
near.

Lord Fairfax was not visible, but two other personages
were seated before the fire, illuminated by the last beams of
sunset streaming through the western window. The first
was a gentleman past middle age, plainly clad, and with
nothing striking in his appearance. The other personage, a
young girl, whose figure was eminently noticeable. She was
apparently about twenty, with dark hair, dark eyes and radiant
complexion. Her bare arms, from which she had thrown
the sleeves of her riding cloak, were models of symmetry,
and her figure was extremely graceful. She was clad richly
for the border, and wore many rings upon her tapering fingers,
but no one for a moment gave a thought to her costume.
The remarkable face attracted all eyes. It was a
singular face—the eyes dark and liquid, full of softness and
fire; the lips red and moist, and adapted to express all

emotions; the brow lofty and snow white; the poise and carriage
of the head, and equally of the person, fascinating. This
was the appearance of the young woman whom the stranger
gazed at with surprise and admiration.

Captain Wagner greeted the occupants of the apartment
with the air of an old acquaintance, acquitting himself of the
task of introduction with much easy unconcern, except that
a keen observer might have imagined from the rude frontiersman's
manner that the lady was no favorite with him.

This, however, was not seen by George or Falconbridge;
at least they did not bow the less low, or smile the less
courteously.

“See,” said the Captain, stroking his beard and smiling
amiably, “see what pleasant people we meet at the end of
our journey, instead of my Lord Fairfax, who, I don't mind
saying, is sometimes, nevertheless, an agreeable companion.
Faith! I know my good luck, friend Argal, and would
rather be here than out yonder in the backwoods with some
surly rascal, who crouches over a wet fire and grudges you
your seat on the log, and your part of the blanket! And
then the smoke!” continued the Borderer, bending over the
blaze, and snuffing up the clouds of white smoke; “faith!
it reminds me of my childhood—our chimney smoked!”

George smiled and sat down opposite the soldier; the
stranger had already taken his seat near the young lady, and
had entered into conversation with her.

“Well, friend Argal,” said the Captain to the gentleman
who held in his hand a package of papers which he had
been examining, “what news on the border? Any Injuns,
eh?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Mr. Argal, courteously, “reports are
rife about them.”

“Reports?”

“They say that there is imminent danger of an inroad
soon.”

“Humph!” replied the Borderer,—“ `they say' is a great

liar, I need not tell you, sir. But let us not frighten the
fair sex. I hope Miss Bertha is well?”

And the soldier, with a movement in which a close
observer might have descried a singular coldness, turned to
the young girl.

She simply inclined her head, and went on conversing
with the stranger; toward him her air was very different.
It was full of a winning grace, a fascinating favor.

The Borderer did not seem to notice all this, but a vague
sound from his stalwart chest indicated some concealed
sentiment. This, however, he suppressed in a moment, and
turning to Mr. Argal, he said:

“I don't see my Lord Fairfax. Where is he, my dear
friend?”

“He is gone a-'unting, sir,” said a grave and respectful
voice behind the soldier, “a-'unting, if you please, sir.”

“Ah! here's old John!” cried the Borderer; “glad to see
you, my friend. Faith, give me your hand!”

And the Captain cordially pressed the hand of the old
servant. Old John was Lord Fairfax's body servant, and
wore his master's livery with the exception of the coat,
which was one of the earl's—heavily laced and ornamented.

He took the offered hand of the soldier with deep respect,
and then drew back quietly, overwhelmed with the honor.

“He's gone a-hunting has he—the good earl! eh? Well,
when will he return, John?”

“I rayther expect him to-night, sir,” said John.

“Good!—then you are not certain?”

“No, sir; very often he is gone a day or two, sir.”

And John stood respectfully awaiting further questions.

“Did he expect me to-day?”

“I think rayther, sir.”

“Very well, get me supper and beds for my friends.”

Old John was in his element again; his master's hospitality
was put in requisition.

“D'rectly, sir—yes, sir,” he said, going toward the side

board. “Plenty o' beds, sir, for you and your honor's
friends—d'rectly, sir!”

But Mr. Argal stopped him as he was going out.

“Bring up our horses first, John,” he said, “I have waited
as long as possible to see his lordship. It is already night,
Bertha.”

Bertha placed one hand upon her breast, and uttered a
little cough.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “I wish we had gone sooner. I am
afraid”——

And the young girl was interrupted by a violent fit of
coughing.

“What! you have a very bad attack of cold,” said her
father. “I did not observe it before.”

“Yes, sir,” returned the young girl, placing her hand
upon her throat, and contracting her beautiful brows, as
though she were suffering pain; “yes, sir, I have felt it coming
on all day, but managed to suppress it until now. It
pains me very much:” here she paused to cough again;
“but if you desire it, I will”——

A more violent fit here seized the young lady, and she
coughed until she was completely exhausted, leaning back
in her chair for support.

Mr. Argal looked very much annoyed.

“Permit me to say, sir,” said Falconbridge, “that exposure
to the night air will aggravate Miss Argal's indisposition.
If possible she should remain here until”——

Another fit of coughing.

“But I cannot—it will be extremely inconvenient: besides
the house here is limited in size, and”——

“Don't fear, your honor,” here interposed old John, who
had entered with a hissing urn and a pile of plates the moment
before. “Don't fear, sir; plenty of room, sir. We
have two spare chambers, and several beds in them, sir: my
master would never hear of your going, sir.”

Mr. Argal hesitated, evidently annoyed.

“Getting very cold, sir,” added the hospitable John, respectfully,
“and if it's not presumin', sir, the young lady,
sir, is”—

Here the young lady coughed distressingly.

“I'll go if you wish, father,” she said, in an artless, uncomplaining
voice; “but my breast feels very badly. I
don't suppose it will make me very sick—if you want to go,
sir”—

“Well, well, daughter, we will remain,” said the old gentleman.
“If you are really unwell, all the business in the
world shall not make me you take you out. See to our
horses, John,” he added, “and as you say there are chambers,
make one of the women prepare a bed for my
daughter.”

“Yes, sir—d'rectly, sir.”

And old John, having set the table with the ease of a
practiced hand, hurried out, and was heard giving orders in
a magisterial tone to the negroes of the establishment.

Captain Wagner remained silent, gazing into the fire; his
huge shoulders bending forward, as was habitual with him,
and his sword striking heavily from time to time against
the floor as he moved.

George was looking over a map of the region, which he
had taken from the shelves; Falconbridge and Miss Argal
had resumed their conversation.

The young lady's cough had disappeared.

Then old John entered, marshalling in a smoking supper,
borne by youthful Africans; and the savory odor seemed to
diffuse an emotion of pleasing satisfaction through the
mind of Captain Wagner.

They all supped comfortably, and the Borderer was still
eating when they had finished.

“Faith, I'm always hungry!” he said; “more beef, friend
John.”

“Yes, sir—d'rectly, sir.”

And old John carved rapidly.

“More everything!” said the Captain. “I've just commenced,
or the devil take it.”

More of everything was supplied, and at last the soldier
rose, stretching himself, and yawning.

“Nearly bed-time, I think!” he said. “Come, George!
give up my couch”——

“Your couch, Captain?”

“Yes, that leather chair! Vacate! I sleep here by the
fire; I know nothing of beds!”

George smiled, and resigned his broad, sloping-backed
chair.

“You and the rest can take the big room,” continued the
Captain; “this young lady the small apartment. Faith! I
know Greenway Court by heart!”

And the Captain, having first piled some more wood upon
the fire, stretched himself comfortably in the leathern chair,
and closed his eyes.