90. CHAPTER XC.
A SUMMER DAY AT “FLOWER OF HUNDREDS.”
With the scenes which have just been narrated our history
might very well end, but perhaps by so terminating
it, we should leave too much to the imagination of the
reader.
We shall therefore add a few words in relation to Mr. St.
John, the family at Vanely, and some other personages of
the history.
The stranger had not used the money which the young
man deposited in his hands “for the cause.” He never for
a moment had any such intention, and soon after the departure
of St. John for the Indian wars, had entrusted the
entire sum to Colonel Vane, with a statement of the circumstances
under which he had received it.
The old gentleman had been ignorant of the young man's
return to Williamsburg, Bonnybel having never spoken of
their meeting at the graveyard, and thus there had been
no communication between the two gentlemen.
Soon after the flight of Dunmore, however, and when St.
John went again to Vanely, and dissipated with a word
the long misunderstanding, the old gentleman returned the
twenty thousand pounds, and in the presence of the young
man, burned, smiling, the deed by which he had conveyed
to Colonel Vane all his servants. One thing only remained
to be done—to repurchase “Flower of Hundreds” from Mr.
Smith, the factor—and in this St. John did not experience
any difficulty. The worthy factor was quite content to receive
back the money, with interest, having found that residing
at “Flower of Hundreds” was neither in consonance
with his habits, which were those of a town-dweller, or his
interests, which made his presence necessary in Williamsburg.
The young man, therefore, found himself reinstated
in his family mansion—the owner again of his patrimonial
acres, as though he had never left them, or parted with them.
We need scarcely say that the cloud which had obscured
his relations with Bonnybel had wholly disappeared. Perhaps
they loved each other even more dearly than before
for the woful misunderstanding which had taken place.
There was now no obstacle to their union, and they were
accordingly married in the autumn of the same year. Two
other marriages took place on the same evening at Vanely.
Miss Seraphina gave her hand to the inconsolable widower,
Jack Hamilton, whose business at Vanely now lay with the
lady—no longer with Colonel Vane. And Helen rewarded
the long and persevering suit of honest Tom Alston, whose
“shaking” had at last brought down the fruit.
On the same morning Mr. St. John had been invited to
the wedding of James Doubleday, Esq., who was about to
espouse the lady for whom he had only a “Platonic regard,”
and we may add that there were present at Vanely, in the
party of Captain Waters and his wife, who possessed but a
single failing, two young people who, perhaps, looked forward
to the day upon which they, also, would be married.
These young persons were Paul Effingham, Esq., son
and heir of Champ Effingham, Esq., of Effingham Hall, and
Miss Beatrice Waters, otherwise called Blossom, daughter
of Charles Waters, Esq.
“The son of Champ and the daughter of Beatrice!” murmured
the captain, as his shoulders drooped and his eyes
grew dreamy; “what a singular world!”
At the door, on a chair set for her, was Mammy Liza;
and, when the ceremony was over, Bonnybel went to her
and put her arms around her neck and kissed her. It is
the fashion in our country, gentle reader.
So the festival passed, with its joy, and merriment, and
uproar, and bright eyes, and smiles, and true love was rewarded.
St. John did not remain many days with his bride. He
again girt on his sword, exchanged his buckled shoes for
heavy horseman's boots, and went to join the troops that
were marching against Dunmore. He was present at the
battle of “Great Bridge,” where the raw volunteers of Virginia
defeated the grenadiers of a crack English regiment,
at the burning of Norfolk, and at the terrible tragedy of
“Gwynn's Island,” from which, driven by General Andrew
Lewis, the victor at “Point Pleasant,” and now arrayed
against him who had endeavored to betray him, Lord Dunmore,
abandoning his mercenaries and armed slaves, took
flight, leaving thus, happily for ever, the soil of the land
which he had tried to enslave.
St. John fought throughout the Revolution, and was
known to enjoy the confidence and warm personal regard
of the friend of Colonel Vane, the great leader of the armies
of America. He only visited his estates in Virginia occasionally;
but, after Yorktown, returned thither to go away
no more. The sun-burnt soldier hung up his sword on the
wall of “Flower of Hundreds,” and sank back to the place
of a Virginia planter.
Need we say that a beautiful face appeared at the door as
the aged “Tallyho” neighed joyfully at the great gate?—
that a form flitted, rather than ran, over the emerald grass,
and, in an instant, was weeping in the arms of the soldier?
and soon his knees were clasped by two little urchins with
sunny curls, and a lovely child, fast ripening into beautiful
girlhood, threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed for
joy upon his bosom.
St. John reëntered the familiar old hall in the midst of
a joyful paean from a multitude of Africans with grinning
and delighted faces; and then the old chariot from Vanely
was described ascending the hill, the day of his return having
been announced in a letter. The honest old colonel
limped forth with grimaces and warmly pressed the hand
of the young man. Old Cato did the same with evident
satisfaction, and good Aunt Mabel placed her thin arms
around him and gave him a kiss and her blessing.
They were happy in the cheerful old mansion, thus reunited,
and we leave them as we found them—smiling.
