31. CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LETTER.
St. John proceeded to his lodgings, frowning, gesticulating
and muttering wrathfully, to the great astonishment of
the passers by. Reaching his chambers, he sat down, began
to smoke a pipe, and grew more composed.
“The fact is I gave him as good as he sent,” the young
man at length muttered, with a grim smile, “insulted him
to the teeth, and humiliated him in presence of his council
—that's some satisfaction in any event. I suppose I'm on
the Black List ere now, and the order for my arrest is issued.
Let'em attempt it! I'll not be taken alive, and it's odds
if I do n't raise such a storm in the streets of the good
town of Williamsburg, as will break some windows in his
Excellency's palace!”
Having thus relieved his feelings, St. John was about to
fall into a reverie when his servant entered bearing the tall
silver candlesticks. Taking from the table a letter which
the young man had not seen, he placed it on a waiter and
handed it to his master, with the explanation that Dick, from
Vanely, had brought it in his absence.
St. John took the letter, motioned the servant away, and
glanced at the superscription. He had no sooner done so
than his frowning brow cleared; his compressed lips expanded
with a smile. The letter was sealed with blue wax,
stamped with the Vane coat of arms—an armed hand grasping
a sword, and beneath, a shield with three mail gaunlets,
supported by a stag and sphynx—the motto, Nec temere, nec
timide.[1]
But St. John did not look at the seal—the direction was
in a handwriting which he knew perfectly—and carefully
opening the letter, with a smile, and the murmured words,
“ `Neither rashly, nor fearfully!'—an admirable motto for
a lover!” read what follows:
“Vanely, Thursday.
“These to his Excellency, the Lieutenant, greeting:
“Papa bids me write to your lordship, and say that you
need not trouble yourself to engage apartments for us at
Mrs. White's, on the night of assembly, as Mr. Burwell has
invited us all to stay with him at his town residence, and I
know somebody who's as glad as glad can be, for she'll see
her dear Belle-Bouche—Miss Burwell once, but now unhappily
a victim on the altar of matrimony.[2]
“Having executed my commission I might terminate my
letter here, but I shall take pity on your lordship's forlorn
condition, so far away from home, and add a few lines. The
day you went—that is yesterday—Barry Hunter came,
and said that his lands in the southwest of the colony had
grown immensely in value, and that any young lady who
accepted him, might be a princess if she chose, and have a
kingdom. A princess, forsooth! A princess of the woods,
I fancy, with bears and panthers for subjects! Nevertheless
Barry's extremely handsome, and I am seriously thinking
of marrying the young gentleman, if he asks me, which
he shall! Just mark my words, sir.
“Before I end I've a favor to request of your Excellency.
'T is to write a line to that tyrannical Mr. William Effingham
of the `The Cove,' in Glo'ster, commanding him, on pain
of my displeasure, to bring Kate to the assembly. She's
the queen of goodness, and the star of loveliness—at which
declaration I suppose your lordship laughs, and says `pooh!
pooh! a woman chanting the praises of another!' That
would be quite in keeping with your ordinary turn for satire
and injustice. But say what you choose, only write. If she
does not come I'll say with Robin Adair, `What's the dull
town to me—Kate is not there!' And you know the other
words, `What makes the assembly shine?' to which I reply,
Kate! Mr. Champ Effingham and Madam Clare will
be present, and 't will be a delightful family reunion!
“Will not your Excellency come to Vanely, and bestow
upon us the brilliancy of his countenance before the assembly?
I pine without him; my days are spent in sighing and
looking down the road; I've quite lost my appetite, and
Mr. Thomas Alston, who was here this morning, could not
make me laugh! When you come to-morrow, be sure to
make a noise in opening the great gate, that I may put on
my best gown and ruffles to receive your Excellency as becomes
his importance.
“Goodness gracious! what a flood of foolish nonsense! as if
so great a military gentleman could think of his poor little
country cousin. Has the explosion taken place at the palace?
I hope not. Of course I do n't expect you
about half past
eleven to-morrow morning. You must be far too busy with
important matters!
“Your lordship will please excuse this thick, rough sheet
of Bath post. 'T is the only paper in the house.
“Bonnybel.
“Postscript.—Have you heard from the young lady in
Glo'ster lately? I'm desperately anxious to become acquainted
with my future cousin. You must introduce me
at the assembly. I shall make her ladyship my very finest
curtsey.”
The young man dropped the hand which held the letter,
and smiled.
“The young lady in Glo'ster!” he murmured; “so my
friendship for that damsel has subjected us to the curious
eyes, and the gossip of the tattling world! I'd certainly
show my taste; but pretty Miss Puss has a terrible rival!
Her countenance is lovely, 't is very true, with its beautiful
eyes and bewitching lips; but I look beyond to a face I've
loved from boyhood!”
And he reread the letter, thinking that her hand had lain
upon the paper. Poor St. John! Then carefully depositing
the paper in the breast pocket of his doublet, he went
and leaned from the open window, and surveyed the moonlit
streets of the town, upon which the shades of night were
descending.
An irresistible desire took possession of him to wander
out in the balmy night, and putting on his hat, he issued
forth into the nearly deserted streets.
Buried in thought, he went on, unconsciously, for some
time. Suddenly he saw a grove of trees before him, and
looking around, discovered that he had made his way, without
knowing it, as far as the picturesque “Indian Camp.”
