 | CHAPTER XLI.
WHICH THE READER SHOULD BY NO MEANS OMIT READING. The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion |  |
41. CHAPTER XLI.
WHICH THE READER SHOULD BY NO MEANS OMIT READING.
“The reader will, no doubt, be able to comprehend without
difficulty, what Captain Ralph meant when he informed
himself confidentially that the scaling ladders were ready.
had made him feel very doubtful whether he could plant the
instruments of assault securely: he looked through the
Seigneur's spectacles and saw a dangerous enemy upon the
citadel, ready to pour down on his devoted head, fire and
boiling oil, and all deadly implements of warfare.
“But now all this had been cleared away—the enemy
had turned out no enemy at all: and that was the explanation
of the Captain's speech.
“On the next day, he donned his most dangerous
weapons, and cased himself in his most war-proof armor;
then with trumpets sounding, and banners flying, advanced
to the assault.”
Thus does the author of the manuscript, in that practical
style of which he is so fond, chronicle the fact that
Captain Ralph Waters set out for Riverhead with the intention
of making a matrimonial demonstration. We suspect
that the “dangerous weapons and war-proof armor,”
were only smiles and (hair) powder, and moustaches gallantly
curled: that the “trumpets sounding,” were simply the
soldier's habitual ditty, ending in “ta, la! ta, la!”—lastly,
that the “banners flying,” were a pure figment of the
author's imagination.
It is not now necessary to chronicle the details of the
interview: we shall more directly arrive at its result by
looking over the Captain's shoulder as he writes—having
returned in the afternoon from Riverhead, with an expression
of countenance far from downcast.
Seated at the rude table of the cottage, and making a
tremendous scratching with his pen, which he handles much
after the fashion of a sword, the soldier writes these words:
while Lanky, seated in a corner, his day's work finished,
looks on admiringly.
“Not simply `sir,' because you are what I have
written—friend, companion. Let me out with what I would
write at once—and in the best manner I can write it, being
but a rude soldier, unused to handling the pen.
“With great respect, dear sir, and companion, I would
daughter, Henrietta.
“This may surprise you, and”—the Captain carsed a
`morbleu' here—“and I confess you have some reason: but
I have not fought all those battles, Glatz and Lissa and the
rest, with you, and found no enemy myself, but a courteous
host. Alas, mon ami!—I am defeated wholly: can't hold
up my head, and come to you and say I am conquered.
“Let me speak of myself first—that, it seems to me, is
necessary, being almost a stranger in the land. You know
my family—an honest one, I think, at least I am accustomed
to regard it such. I am not ashamed, rather proud of it—
thus much in justice to myself.
“I was quite young when, led by the spirit of adventure
which God plants in the bosoms of the youthful, I left Virginia,
to which land, through all my wanderings, my heart
turned with filial devotion. I went to Europe. I entered
his Majesty's service, in which I continued until the peace
of Fontainbleau, with an intermission of two years—two
years which now live in my memory as the brightest period
of a rude, wandering life, crammed with a thousand vicissitudes,
a host of emotions, for the most part emotions of glad
triumph and success.
“Those two years saw me married to a good wife, a tender
heart,—one of those natures which God sends upon this
earth to bless the lives of us rude soldiers and soften them.
I had the unhappiness to lose my wife; the hand of Providence
took her from me, and, to my great regret, I had no
children to remind me of that so long-loved companion. Well,
well, let me pass on: that wound has healed—or nearly.
“I plunged into war again.—I exhausted its delights,
and they are not slight, sir, with all the blood and wounds,
and suffering. I returned hither to Virginia, led by the
never-dying sentiment of love of country. I only sojourned
in Europe; this was my home. All that I retained of those
years of battles and marches, and countermarches, was the
title by which I am usually addressed. I was discharged.
I left his Majesty's service, which I heartily rejoice and thank
heaven for, the great Frederic not being a commander to my
taste.
“Upon her death-bed, my wife,—whom God bless and
pillowing my rude head, when I was wounded, on her bosom
—my wife charged me to marry again, saying, that marriage
made me better, curbing my natural propensity to wander,
and making a quiet citizen of me,—which is true Ah! sir,
she was a good wife and I am a better man, for that brief
dream of happiness. Enough!
“In relation to my worldly goods, let me adopt the European
custom and omit nothing. I am not poor, thanks to
some guilders gathered in my profession and what my wife
left to me.
“I, therefore, ask that my addresses may receive your
sanction; I am convinced your daughter does not regard me
with indifference, and this I had abundant proof of on this
very day. Enough of that; but this I add, that before addressing
myself to you, I would receive no avowal from Mademoiselle
Henrietta, binding her. I trust 'tis what every
honorable man would do.
“You have it all, friend and companion; you know me
for what I am,—a rude soldier, but a loyal man. Speak.
The Captain wrote this letter without thought, as he would
have spoken: and sealed it without reading it.
He then summoned Lanky, and placing it in his hands,
bade that unfortunate messenger deliver it to none but Mr.
Lee himself, waiting an answer.
Lanky returned in three hours.
“Well?”
“Answer to-morrow, sir.”
“Good!”
And Captain Ralph sat down composedly, and leaning
his head upon his hand, seemed to be thinking of some old
days,—upon the Rhine it seemed, and of a woman; for his
lips murmured: “a good wife—God take her to himself!”
Early on the next day a servant brought a letter, which
the Captain tore open at once. It contained these words
simply:
“I accede to the request of Captain Waters. I know
nothing more. The rest lies with my daughter.
The Captain raised his head, and Lanky started back at
the radiant expression of his countenance.
“Oh! Cap'n!” he murmured.
“Lanky, my dear fellow,” said the Captain, “I think your
chances for the cottage are bad—very bad.”
“Oh! Cap'n! why?”
“I am going to be married myself,” said the soldier, “go
and saddle my horse!”
And Captain Ralph twirled his moustaches with a look
of such triumph and happiness that Lanky was consoled.
His master's joy was his own.
| CHAPTER XLI.
WHICH THE READER SHOULD BY NO MEANS OMIT READING. The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | |