University of Virginia Library

29. CHAPTER XXIX.
VISITORS.

Captain Ralph did not laugh at Lanky again, for he respected
the sincerity and truth of his rude, boorish retainers,
highly. He knew that Lanky, at that moment, loved
Donsy as purely and delicately as the highest gentleman in
the land—and one of Captain Ralph's rules was, never to
deride sincere emotion.

“Well now, Lanky,” he said, “you tell me that Donsy
has consented to marry you?”

“Yes, sur,” said Lanky, in an inarticulate tone.

“Are you fixed to marry?”

“I'm 'fraid not, sur.”

“Hum!”

“But Donsy says she'll wait a thousand years for me,
sur.”

“That would be too long,” said his master.

“I know she'd do it, sur.”

“No doubt: but then she would be a thousand and
seventeen years old; much too antique to enter into matrimony.
She is seventeen, eh?”

“Nearly eighteen, sur.”

“And you?”

“I was nineteen last month, sur.”

“All right, morbleu! and now, what would you say if I
set you up in the world?”

“Oh, Cap'n!” cried Lanky—literally cried.

“That would be an expressive observation,” said the soldier,
looking kindly at his retainer; “but I mean how would
you like to farm?”

“Oh, sur!”

“You mean you would like it very well?”

“Oh, Cap'n! me an' Donsy would—”

And then the honest fellow stopped, unable to proceed:
the splendid vision overcame him.

“Suppose I were to give you a lease of the cottage here,
with all appurtenances—carts and every thing—the fifty
acres, and the boats: the rent to be paid out of the proceeds
at your leisure?”

“Oh, sur!”

The Captain smiled.

“Do you think, however, that Smith will consent?”

“I dn'no, Cap'n.”

“Have you asked him?”

“For Donsy? no, sur.”

The Captain shook his head.

“I'm as good as he is, sur,” said Lanky, proudly; “an'
my mother was a real lady, sur—old farmer Brock's
daughter. I never could git to talk right—but I loved her,
sur, mor'n any thing. That's what Donsy said, sur—says
she, `Lanky, I like you because you loved your mother so:'
that's what she said, sur.”

And Lanky cried.

“Well, well,” said the Captain, “listen now. I will
try and get friend Smith to consent. Don't be cast down,
mon ami—there is no reason. Diable! many an honest
fellow has had harder times than that to get his sweetheart.
I repeat that I'll try and make Donsy's bon père give his
assent. And now, I return to the cottage.”

“Oh, sur!”

“I want some splendid palace to live in. Diable! what
is life worth if one is not an emperor?”

Lanky nods affirmatively.

“I must have an empire!”

Lanky nods again, quite sure that if his master really
wants it, the empire—which is an ambiguous thing to him—
will assuredly come.

“Having bought a chariot and horses, I naturally want
some place to put them in,” continued his master, smoking.

“Oh yes, Cap'n.”

“Perhaps, like you,” continued the soldier, “I may,
some day, get a wife: I am wearying of this bachelor existence—and
who knows what may happen?”

“Who knows?” echoed Lanky, philosophically.

“Therefore, I may give up the cottage for the time: the
bon père and Charley are with Beatrice up there, and when
they wrote spoke highly of the land, and wished to remain:
strange they have not written lately,” added the soldier, his
clear eye looking toward the west.

“The mail ain't safe, sur.”

“Yes: that accounts for it. Well, all this goes to explain,
Lanky, that I shall probably become an emperor—and
then, I promise you this place as long as you want it, at a
nominal rent, to pay when you can—to the bon père.
Should he wish to return here, you must pack up and go,
bag and baggage: but don't fear, I will provide for you.”

“Oh, Cap'n, you are mighty good to me!” said Lanky,
gratefully.

“Good to you? parbleu! no retainer of mine shall ever
suffer.”

“Donsy 'll be delighted, sur.”

“Parbleu! I almost envy you your bride!” laughed
the Captain; “she is a charming little creature.”

“Then she's so good, Cap'n.”

“Yes, I don't doubt it.”

“Are you goin' to get married, sur?”

The Captain laughed.

“Doubtful!” he said.

“The lady 'll git the kindest sort o' husban,” said Lanky,
with grateful sincerity.

“Now, sir, you flatter me!”

“Oh no, sur.”

“You say the lady.”

“Yes, sur!” said Lanky; “the finest lady in the land
needn't be 'shamed to marry you, sur!”

“Why, dear Lanky, perpend! You are as good as I
am.”

“Oh, Cap'n!”

“All honest men are worthy; and, morbleu! I think
Donsy will have in you a better husband than she would
find in me. I am a roving soldier, clattering along, always
ready for the field, morbleu! and impatient of control: while
you—you are a most respectable looking citizen, with that
splendid pine-knot head, and see-saw movement. Basta!
you will become a squire;—but who comes here? two horsemen
at the door! Diable!—see to them!”

And Captain Ralph rose. In fact, two gentlemen had
reined in at his door: they now dismounted, and Lanky
holding their horses, with many bows, came toward the cottage
door.

The Captain met them on the threshold.