THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF P.Lennox Tierney - MISS BONNYBEL. A NOVEL. BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE, AUTHOR OF"SURRY OF EAGLF/S NEST," "HILT TO HILT, "MOHUN," "FAIRFAX," "OUT OF THE FOAM," ETC. NEW YORK: COPYRIGHT 1812, BY G. W. DILLINGHAU. G. W. Dill ing ham Co., Publishers. MDCCCXCVII. - M CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE PROLOGUE. 7 L Flowers of the Forest . 17 H.Flowera of the Court 21 HL How Blossom faulted, and what followed 26 TV. A Glimpse of his Excellency Lord Dunmore 28 V. How his Excellency got the better of a Child 30 VL The Great-Grandson of Pocahontas 38 VIL Conspiracy 46 VIIL Yanely. . 53 IX. Bonnybel Vane. ... 57 X. " Old Gouty" 65 XL A May Morning in '74. 67 XIL The "Window Panes at Vanely 73 XIII. How they danced a Minuet de la Cour. 76 XTV. Which verifies the Proverb, that listeners never hear any good of themselves 81 XV. Bonnybel looks in a Mirror and laughs 85 XVI. The News from Boston. 90 'XVII. The Model of a Perfect Lover 95 XVIII. How Mr. Lindon came to, and went away from Vanely. ... 101 XIX. Bonnybel Vane to her friend, Mistress Catherine Effinghatn, at " The Cove," in Gloucester County 109 XX. How Miss, Bonnybel fainted in the Arms of her Cousin. ... 112 XYL Bonnybel Vane to her Friend, Kate Effingham 121 XXII. At the " Trysting Tree" 125 XXIII- St. John makes his Entry into Richmond Town 133 XXIV. In which the Author omits describing the Races 138 XXV. How Mr. St John encountered a Stranger, and of what they conversed. , . . 141 XXVL How the Stranger became an Historian and a Prophet. . . . 151 XXVIL How St John met a Friend in Williamsburg 159 XXVIIL The Secret Agent 161 XXIX. How a Virginia Girl wrote Verses in '74 168 937457 V TONTKNTS. CHAPTER XXX. How Mr. St. John returned his Commission to Lord Dun- more.. ]72 XXXI. The Letter 180 XXXIL What happened at the " Indian Camp" 184 XXXTTT. A Sleeping Beauty 187 XXXIY. St. John, from his House of "Flower of Hundreds," to his Friend, Tom Alston, at " Moorefield" 192 XXXV. The Reply 194 XXXTL Blossom 196 XXXVIL The Woof of Events 198 EXXVIII. The Fixed Stars of Virginia 206 XXXTX, How the Stranger's first Prophecy was fulfilled 214 XL. How his Excellency asked the Nome of the Stranger. .. 220 XLI. The Steps and the Base of Lord Botetourt's Statue 225 XLII. The " Apollo Room," in the Raleigh Tavern Deus nobis hoec otia fecit 229 XLIII. In which a Chariot arrives 233 XLIV. The Assembly at the Capitol 235 XLV. The rival Lieutenants of the Guards. 237 XLVL The Secretary .241 XLVII. St John and Lindon 245 XLVIIL St. John goes to "Flodden" 252 XLIX. How Captain Waters fulfilled his Mission 356 L. The Fugitive. 262 LI. Her only Failing 266 UL The Combat: Red and White Roses 269 LIIL- The News reaches Vanely. 277 LTV. Two Hearts 281 LV. Which commences the Second Portion of the History. . . 284 LVI. How Captain Waters plucked his Geese- 292 LVII. Some old Friends : at least the Author hopes so 299 LVIII. The Second Warning 304 LIX. How St. John drew his Sword and struck at a Shadow.. 3C8 LX. Tom Alston to Henry St. John. 314 LXI. St. John tells how a Spirit entered his Room at Midnight 318 LXIL How Mr. Alston traveled all Night, and what followed.. 334 LXIII. A Broken Heart: Henry St. John to Thomas Alston. . . 34? LXIV. Henry St. John, Esquire, to Miss Bonnybel Vane, at Vanely, hi Prince George 344 LXV. " How strange 1 I knew a Bonnybel once !" 347 LXVI. The last Hallucination of St. John 351 LXVIL How St John kept his Appointment with the Stranger. 354 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER PAG* LXVm. A Virginia Giant 368 LXIX^-On the Banks of Belle Riviere 371 LXX. The Old Church of St. John's , 380 LXXL Bonnybel's Dream , 383 LXXIL Bonnybel Vane to her Friend, Kate Effingh an 387 LXXIII. The Friends 390 LXXIV. The Removal of the Powder 397 LXXV. "Williamsburg in Arms and Captain Waters in Ecstacies 408 LXXVL A Meeting of Patriots 417 LXXVIL A Young Spy 422 LXXVIIlT-General Effingham is carried off by a Chariot. 424 LXXIX. The March of the Hanoverians on "Williamsburg. 428 LXXX. The Meeting at Doncastle's Ordinary. 433 LXTTT. The Robbery of the Coach of the King's Receiver General 437 LXXXII. How Lindon left Williamsburg, and whom he conversed with at " Agincourt" 444 LXXXIIL A Glance at Vanely . ... 451 LXXXIV. Bonnybel Vane to her Friend, Kate Effingbam 453 LXXXV. Lindon Smiles 458 LXXXVL The Two Letters. 461 LXXXVIL The Unraveling of the Mesh 466 LXXXVIII. Fire and Storm 471 T.TYTTT. The End of the Drama 477 XC. A Summer Day at " Flower of Hundreds" 485 EPILOGUE 488 HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATIONS. ., 491 MISS BONNYBEL CHAPTER L FLO WEE 8 OF THE FOBX6T. IT is a beautiful May morning, in the year 1774. The sun is shining brightly, the oriole swings to and fro on his lofty spray, and carols to the spring ; the month of flowers has dawned upon the world in all its loveliness, and scattered daisies, violets and buttercups on the green ex panse of smiling meadows, and along the grassy banks of streams. Two children holding each other by the hand, take theii way through a forest stretching to the west of Williams- burg, the old capital of Virginia. They are a boy and a girl, apparently about ten years of age. The boy is a gallant looking urchin, clad in a richly em broidered roundabout, drab shorts, and gayly colored stock ings, which disappear in high-quartered shoes, ornamented with rosettes of ribbon; his curling hair, framing ruddy cheeks, is surmounted by a little cocked hat with a jaunty feather. The girl's costume is in some points similar. She wears a sort of frock coat, so to speak, of pink " cali- manco," opening in front, and displaying a species of waist coat, laced across a ruffled stomacher. The frock falls only to the knees, where it is met by, white silk stockings, held 18 MISS BONNYBEL. by velvet garters, ornamented with clocks at the instep, and ending in small high-heeled shoes, with galoshes. Her head, with its bright curls, is protected by a broad-rimmed chip hat, secured with a blue ribbon tied beneath the chin. The boy is gay, mischievous, full of mirth and higfc apirita The gitl gentle, sedate, with a pensive Icok in her mild eyot which peer out from a number of stray ringlets. In ont hand she carries a checker- work satchel, holding a few books for they are going to the old field school ; in the other, a nosegay of violets and sweet-briar roses, the gift of her cavalier, who disputes the possession of her hand with the flowers. They soon come in sight of the old field school. It is a log building, with a broad, well barred door, a log for a step, a chimney of rough stone built outside, and heavy oaken shutters on rusty hinges. The rude old building sleeps beneath the lofty oaks very tranquilly ; but from the interior comes a busy hum which indicates the presence of children. The girl looks anxiously toward one of the windows and says: " Oh me, Paul ! See the sun on the shutter ! We're very late, and I'm afraid Uncle Jimmy '11 keep us in !" " Let him !" replies Mr. Paul with great gallantry, " who cares? We've had a glorious time getting flowers, Blos som ; and I don't mind being kept in with you." Paul inserts one thumb into the arm-hole of his waist coat as he speaks, and bestows a devoted look upon his companion. " I don't mind myself," says Blossom, hurrying on, " but you love Prisoner's Base so, Paul ! and then you came in time : for yonder is your pony tied to the oak, and you'll be kept in, because you came to meet me." " Well, what if I did come ?" says Paul, carelessly, " al though you wouldn't let me carry your satchel. Is Uncle Jimmy to ride roughshod over me for that ? Can't a Vir- MISS BONNYBEL. 19 ginia gentleman get flowers for a lady without being brought to trial ?" And Paul looks proud and indignant. "A lady, Paul !" says Blossom, with a low silvery laugh ; " why I'm only a child !" " You're my sweetheart." " Pshaw, Paul ! what a goose you are 1 how foolish yop do talk!" And Blossom turns away her head, hastening on towarud the school-house. Paul gets before her, however, and in a moment they are standing in presence of Uncle Jimmy Doubleday, an old gentleman with a lengthy coat, huge goggles, splatterdashes, and a gray queue, who presides over a crowd of boys and girls all rosy cheeks, curls, freckles and health busy studying at the long desks against the walls. Uncle Jimmy has just inflicted condign punishment upon an urchin who was drawing individuals in a boxing attitude upon his slate the criminal having been posted in a corner with the slate around his neck, and a huge dunce's cap upon his head. Uncle Jimmy is therefore irate. He sternly de mands of Paul and Blossom why they are so late. Paul, who still holds his companion's hand, declares, with an easy air, that he is the cause of it: he thought he'd carry Blossom off to get some flowers. " Oh no, Uncle Jimmy !" says Blossom, with a timid look into the old schoolmaster's face, " I was late before, and Paul is not to blame. Papa came home last night, and I love to talk with him so much." At the word papa, Uncle Jimmy seems suddenly molli fied. " Well, well," he says, looking through his great goggles at the child's face, and trying not to smile, "well, Blossom, you are excused ; you never do wrong purposely, my child ; and for your sake I excuse this youngster. But take cnre sir!" added Uncle Jimmy, turning with a tremendous frown to the urchin, "take care, in future, Mr. Paul Effingham ! I ?0 MISS KONNYBEL. make the prediction, that the birch destined for you, u growing." And Uncle Jimmy scowled ferociously at Paul, who saun tered with a jaunty air toward his desk. For Paul was a favorite too. The old pedagogue fell into a reverie, caressed gently Blossom's hair, heaved a sigh, and then awoke. Having vigorously applied the birch to a youngster wh<~ had just made his neighbor execute a terrible leap, by Sticking , pin into him, Uncle Jimmy called the next class, and so the old field school went on its way as usual. At last came "play time," and the old schoolmaster closed his books. To his profound astonishment the girls and ur chins did not move. Uncle Jimmy saw with incredulous stupefaction that they did not snatch their hats with ardor, and rush into the open air. The worthy pedagogue rubbed his eyes. Was he dream ing? Had he made a mistake and forestalled the hour? No : there was the rustic dial consisting of a nail driven into the window seat, whose shadow, when it ran along a certain line, marked noon ; and now the shadow plainly in dicated twelve. Instead of rushing out, the boys and girls had gathered around Blossom, and evidently desired to use her favor with the pedagogue to obtain some boon. Blossom seemed to resist ; but the eloquent advocates re doubled their entreaties, and at last the girl approached the schoolmaster. "If you please, Uncle Jimmy," she said, timidly, " we want you to give us a holiday to-day." "Holiday!" cried Uncle Jimmy, with a horrified expres sion, " holiday 1 On what earthly ground ?" Blossom was a little abashed by the loud exclamation, and faltered. "There, my child there, Blossom," said Uncle Jimmy, " don't mind my outcry. I'm not a little forest bird like you, that does nothing but cheep and twitter. I growl : don't mind me ; but say why you want a holiday. Can any one explain such au unusual ^'a-c^t ?" MISS BONNTBEL. 21 And the pedagogue addressed himself with dignity to the crowd. He had cause to regret the movement. A deafening explanation greeted his appeal, above whose up roar were heard only the words, " They're coming ! They're coming 1 They're coming !" The schoolmaster closed his ears with horror; and the a. rising to his full height upon the rostrum, extended both his hands in wrath above the youthful orators, and cried " Cease, ye young bulls of Bashan ! cease ! HavT' you no regard for my ears, unhappy reprobates that you 970 ! Let Blossom speak, and hold your clatter, or I'll birch every mother's son of you !" It seemed that even the little maidens were terrified by this address to the boys. A deep silence followed, and Blossom having again urged the general request, Uncle Jimmy did what he had never for a moment hesitated about he gave the desired holiday. " Go, go my children," he said, " yes, go and see the vain pageant of a poor mimic royalty ! You are not an old fel low like me ; you are children, and love music, and bells ringing, and fine dresses. Go see how gallant we can be in old Virginia when we pshaw 1 I'm not making an address 1 Go, children, and come early in the morning." With these words Uncle Jimmy extended his hands pa ternally, and in a minute and a half the old school-house was deserted. At the same moment the noise of chariots was heard upon the forest road in front of the school-house the rolling- ol wheels, and the sound of the hoofs of horses. 22 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER IL FLOWERS OF THE COURT. PAUL was hastening, with his arm around Blossom, toward the tree where his pony Shag was tied the young gentle man's design being to convey his sweetheart behind him into WUIiamsburg when suddenly both stopped, arrested by the appearance of a brilliant cavalcade. It consisted of three richly decorated chariots, eacu drawn by six glossy horses, and followed by plainer vehicles. The drivers and footmen who hung behind were white English servants, as were the numerous outriders. The first equipage contained three ladies the rest seemed occupied chiefly by gentlemen. As the flock of children ran out to look upon the brilliant spectacle, the head of a young lady was thrust from the window of the foremost coach, and she seemed to be calling the attention of her companions to the children. It was a beautiful face, framed hi bright curls, and look ing very sweet and good-humored. "Isn't she pretty, Paul ?" said Blossom, in a whisper. " Uncommonly," returned Paul, with the air of a connois seur ; " but look, Blossom, she is beckoning to you 1" In fact, the pretty picture of the boy and girl, with their arms around each other, had attracted the attention of the young lady, and taking advantage of a momentary pause, occasioned by a portion of the harness becoming out of place, she had really beckoned to the girl. Blossom approached the chariot, followed by Paul, and looked with timid grace into the face of the young lady, who smiled sweetly, and gave her hand to each. " That is a school-house, is it not, my dear ?" she said ; " every thing is bright here, and you and all look very happy." " That's because Blossom is so good, ma'am," said Paul politely ; " everybody's happy where she is." MISS JJONNYBEL. 23 u Blossom,* said tlic lady smiling, " is that your name ?" " Yes, ma'am," returned the child, " and his is Paul. 1 ' " Paul ! do you hear, Susan ?" said the young lady, turn ing one of her companions ; " what pretty names they have in Virginia Blossom and Paul! and you know we stopped last night at Roslyn Hall.' 1 '' Then turning to the children, the young lady added : " I wish you would come and see me, Blossom s-ad yon too, Paul. My name is Augusta Murray, and we a. e going to live in Williamsburg now." As she spoke, the footman again mounted behiii.*, having fixed the harness, and the young lady again gave her hand to the children, with a pleased smile. The cavalcade then resumed its way slowly. The flock of children, Blossom and Paul leading, sur rounded and followed it, as a triumphal escort, and it went thus attended toward the old capital. For many hours the good town of Williamsburg has been in commotion. An immense crowd has assembled, and the waves of the multitude now extend from the college of "William and Mary," past the old magazine, and the " Raleigh" tavern, quite onward to the steps of the capitol, where, around the base of Lord Botetourt's statue, the rest less and variegated billows seem to break into foam and spray. All classes, all costumes are seen. Plain homespun clothes and rich doublets, gentry and commoners, merchants and factors, and yeomen, and negroes, and a great crowd of students from the college of " William and Mary," who flock in gay groups along the thoroughfares, cracking jokes, like their brethren in all ages. " Duke-of-Gloucester-street" thus represents a jubilant carnival : it is a conglomeration of forms, plain and pictur esque, old and young, male and female jesting, laughing, shouting, jostling awaiting the event of the day. From time to time the crowd moves to and fro unwilling ly, and as it were under protest ; then rapidly divides itself 24 MISS BONNYBEL. into parallel columns on each side of the street ; ana Jirough this space rolls a chariot, with four glossy horses. It con tains some old planter in his richest pourpoint. with his wife and daughters blazing in silk and velvet and diamonds ; and the driver is a portly and consequential negro, who, proud of himself, his master, and his position, looks down with aristocratic condescension on the " poor white folks." As the chariot disappears in the direction of the palace of the Governor, some richly clad gallant, mounted upon his gayly-caparisoned thorough-bred, prances by in the same direction ; and if he be handsome he occasions favorable re marks from the damsels, whose heads are visible in the win dows above. He is succeeded by some country cart of rude pine board, drawn by a solemn-looking donkey ; and as the old country man and his wife bounce up and down, the heads at the windows utter jests and laughter a taste for the grotesque having characterized the maidens of that epoch, as it does the damsels of to-day. With the uproarious crowd mingle members of the House of Burgesses, and many personages who seem to look with a philosophic eye on the carnival. These do not laugh or jest ; they wait ; they seek for the currents of popular opin ion, and continue to gaze silently. All at once^in the midst of the tumult, a bell is heard, and this is followed by a shout. Then a great undulation takes place in the mass; the waves roll right and left, young girls are precipitated into strangers' arms ; through the open space comes on a troop of horsemen from the direction of the palace Lord Dun- more's guards, who occupy barracks near at hand. They ride vigorous horses, and are clad in the British uniform, being, indeed, Englishmen. They disappear at the western end of Gloucester street, followed by some mur murs. The crowd closes after them ; the bells continue to ring ; the windows are more densely crowded ; urchins even MISS BONNYBEL. 26 mount upon the old Magazine, and clasp the flag-staff bear ing aloft the banner of St. George. A great shout tella that the object of all thie excitement has entered the capital. The confusion becomes now like Pandemonium. The heads of young, girls are thrust to a dangerous distance from the windows ; handkerchiefs are violently waved by these splendor-loving youthful personages ; and the number of .damsels, children, and all weaker characters who are pre cipitated upon alien bosoms is more marked than ever. But the end is accomplished ; the center of tne street is left free. A score of the guards, riding four abreast, precede the cavalcade which we have seen stop a moment near the old field school. As many follow it. The first chariot contains the Countess of Dunmore, wifo of his Excellency the Governor, with her daughters the La dies Susan and Augusta. The second is occupied by Lady Catherine and her broth ers, the Honorable Alexander and John Murray. The third contains Lord Fincastle, Captain Foy, the pri vate secretary of his Excellency, and his wife. Captain Foy looks forth calmly on the crowd his pale, quiet face betrays nothing. But the countess, her daughters and her sons, are plainly gratified by their reception. The young ladies especially, with their rosy and good-humored faces, seem far from in different to the shouts of welcome which greet them. They look out and smile, and raise their eyes to the fair faces at the windows, or scan the crowd. The crowd looks back amiably. It pays no attention to Lord Fincastle, Captain Foy, or the sons of his Excellency. They are accustomed to lords and honorables, and prefer the smiling faces of the young ladies. Thus the cortege passes along Gloucester street, accom panied by the crowd which bears it on its way. The bells continue to ring a band of music in the palace grounds commences an inspiring march the chariots enter the great a 26 MISS BONNYBEt. gateway, flanked as now by the two guard-houses and then the Scottish lindens hide them from the eyes of the multi tude. Virginia has beheld her last viceregal " entrance."* CHAPTER III. HOW BLOSSOM FAINTED,ANI> WHAT FO^LOWKIX THE crowd does not at once disperse. It busies itself looking at the chariots, at the fat gentleman on the palace portico, at the musicians who blow away with puffed cheeks. The Strident music has a less pleasing effect upon the horses of the troop, who, ranged on each side of the great gate, defend the passage against all but the chariots of the " gentry." The animals move uneasily, threatening every moment to trample on the crowd, and their riders are evidently as ill at ease. This sentiment seems experienced, more than all, by their commander. He is a young man of twenty-four or five, wearing a rich uniform, and a heavy saber. He curbs with a vigorous hand his restive charger ; his dark eyebrows are knit into a heavy frown. More than once his animal has just escaped trampling on some member of the crowd whose attention is attracted by the efforts he plainly makes to subdue the horse ; but the officer seems ill disposed to furnish an object for popular comment. His patience all at once gives way anger over, comes him and striking the animal violently on the head with his gauutleted hand, he mutters something very much like an imprecation. The horse backs, then starts forward under the spur * Historical Illustration^ No. L MISS BONNYBEL. 27 driven violently into his side. At the same instant a cry beneath the very feet of the charger is heard, and the young man sees that a child has fallen under the trampling hoofs. A score of hands are stretched out as many exclama tions heard but the young officer forestalls assistance. He throws himself from the saddle, and raising the figure of the child in his arms, asks anxiously if she is nurt. " No sir I believe not," she falters. " I was * little frightened I can stand I think, sir." And Blossom for it is our little friend of the old field school, separated from Paul by the crowd Blossom glided from the encircling arm, and placed her feet upon the ground. Had not the young man supported her again, she would have fallen. The frown deepened on his face, and some thing like a growl issued from his lips. , " Go !" he said, turning to the troop with an imperious gesture, " Go ! you are disbanded !" The troopers gladly obeyed. They quickly returned to their barracks through the crowd, which made way for them, one of them leading the young officer's horse. As they disappeared he felt the slender form weigh heavily upon his arm. A sudden pallor diffused itself over Blos som's countenance ; the long lashes drooped upon the cheek, and the weak head fell like a wounded bird's upon the young man's breast. The child's knees bent beneath her, and she fainted in his arms. A glance told him all, and raising the light figure wholly from the ground, he bore the child quickly beneath the lin dens into the palace of the Governor. A door was half open at the end of the hall, and perceiv ing a vessel of water upon a sideboard, he hastened thither and bathed the child's forehead in the cool liquid. A slight tremor now ran through her frame, the color re lumed to her cheeks, and with a deep sigh Blossom opened her eyes. J* MISS BONNYBEL. " Ah I" exclaimed the officer, drawing a Jong breath of re lief, " there 's your color back again, my little girl ! That 'a welll You are not hurt, I hope. 'Tis but a poor pageant that ends with injury to a child ; and I 'd much rather re sign my commission than have it on my conscience !" A species of haughty growl, accompanied by the rustle of jilk on the opposite side of the apartment, attracted his at tention as he spoke, and, turning round, the young officer saw that he was in presence of Lord Dunmore and his household, who had apparently been so much surprised by his entrance as not to have been able either to speak or move. CHAPTER IV. A GLIMPSE OF HIS EXCELLENCY LORD DUNMORE. LORD DmraoRE was clad on this occasion with great plendor. His short and somewhat corpulent person had apparently been decorated by his valet with extraordinary care. He wore a full dress silk stockings, gold embroidered waistcoat, velvet surcoat, also embroidered, a bag wig, and a profusion of ruffles. At his button hole fluttered an order of nobility. The red and somewhat coarse face did not prepossess strangers in his lordship's favor. They seemed to feel that this countenance must needs indicate a scheming and wholly egotistical nature. And it is certain that reliable records establish this view. Lord Dunmore was not proficient even in intrigue. He bungled in the dark paths which he trod, and stumbled. All his plans went ill. No one would rely on him. More than once, when thrown in collision with the growing spirit of liberty in the colonies, and its advocates in the Burgesses, he had essayed to wheedle the members ; MISS BONNYBEL. 29 and for this purpose had descended, as he conceived, to un due familiarity. But this manner did net set well upon him. Essentially unreliable and scheming by nature, he could not conceal his character, and generally ended by disgusting those whom he desired to conciliate. He was not wanting in those social attentions which his predecessors from the time of Berkeley had found so useful ; but the guest whom he entertained generally went away distrusting his v.neacy politeness, and doubting the reality and good faith of his Excellency's protestations. Lord Dunmore had little of that urbanity and cordial po liteness which characterized his amiable predecessor, Francis Fauquier ; he possessed none of the tranquil and well-bred courtesy and ease of the justly popular Lord Botetourt, who had coveted no other title than that of '* Virginia gentle man." In Fauquier the planters of the colony could and did easily pardon a mania for card playing and wine ; they had not the same charity for Lord Dunmore's less amiable weaknesses. While the counties of " Fauquier" and '* Bote tourt" still remain, and will always, the county of "Dun- more" had its name changed unanimously to "Shenan- doah." The people of Virginia at the period brought ugly charges against his Excellency. They said that through his secret agent, Conolly, he was embroiling the Virginians and Penn- sylvanians about the boundary line, to divert attention from the designs of the ministry, and dissipate the increasing spirit of rebellion. They added that he had a league with the savages, whom he tempted to make incursions on the Virginia frontier,* and thus break the opposition to the English Parliament by exhausting the colony's resources. They finally declared that he was a traitor, inasmuch as he attempted to betray Lewis into the hands of the enemy at Point Pleasant. Colonel Bland charged his Excellency with lying ; said he held " lewd and filthy orgies in bis pa.1 * Historical Illustrations, No. U. 30 MISS EONNYBEL, ace ;" and the events which attended the last mouths of hia residence seem to support this view of his character. His Excellency, indeed, was no favorite with the Virgin ians, who pardon much if a man possesses refinement and amiability. " Lord Dunmore," says Mr. Wirt, " was not a man of popular manners ; he had nothing of the mildness, the purity, the benevolence, and suavity of his predecessor. On the contrary he is represented as having been rude and offensive ; coarse in his figure, his countenance and his t'an- ners." That his Excellency was both cruel and cowardly, the events which attended his flight from Williamsburg, and his piratical ravages on the shores of the Chesapeake, will prove abundantly ; defying all explanation or apology. CHAPTER V. IN WHICH HIS EXCELLENCY GETS THE BETTER OF A CHILD. LORD DITNMOKE stood motionless in his rich dress, by the window, and neither deigned to bow or speak, when the young officer turned to him. Fauquier would have been at his side with a smile and a welcome. Dunmore stood still and raised his head haughtily. This lofty expression, however, seemed to produce very little effect on the intruder. For some time now he had been accustomed to excellencies and honorables. He placed the child on a settee, and made the ladies a profound bow. "Your Excellency will pardon my unceremonious en trance," he said, coolly ; " there was no one to announce me, and (his child had fainted." " Your entrance was very natural, and quite pardonable, air," said Lord Dunmore, with an expression of mingled hauteur and condescension ; and then extending his hand MISS BONNYBEL. 31 ceremoniously towards the young man, he added, " Lady Dunraore, permit me to present to you, and my daughters, Mr. St. John, lieutenant of my guards." The officer bowed low again, but it was easy to see from the slight movement of his proud lip that something in the title thus bestowed upon him was displeasing. Lady Dunmore was about to speak, and from the amiable smile upon her countenance, to refer, doubtless, to the pleas ant reception she had met with, and Mr. St. John's part therein, when his Excellency forestalled such colloquy *>y recalling attention to Blossom. As he looked at the child there was as little evidence of courtesy or amiability as in his address to Mr. St. John, and he said, almost rudely "Is this young person hurt, sir ? I confess I see no traces of any accident, unless you call lassitude an accident." Mr. St. John's brow clouded more and more; for under the circumstances of the case, the tone of Lord Dunmore was as much an insult to himself as to the child ; and the young man did not seem to have been habituated to insult. Before he could reply, however, the Governor turned away from him to Blossom, and said, in the same careless and rude tone : " What happened to you ?" " I fainted, sir," murmured the child, frightened at the cold face and harsh voice, " in the crowd, sir." " A mere trifle ! Where do you live in Williamsburg ?" " No sir I came to see the procession, and " " What ! you had the imprudence to come to town thus ! Your parents show little sense in their government." " Paul was with me," murmured Blossom " we go to school at Uncle Jimmy's, not far from here, and our house is not so far as that. I think I can walk home now, sir!" And anxious to get away from the forbidding presence of her interlocutor, Blossom rose to her feet, and made a step toward the door. Her strength, however, was unequal to i)2 MISS the exertion, and she sank down again with an expression of pain. Mr. St. John, whose brow had assumed a darker and darker cloud, as he stood listening to this conversation, would have hastened to her, but he was forestalled by one of the young ladies, who rose quickly, and in a moment was at the child's side. It was the Lady Augusta wh/Mu Blos som had met at the old school. "Are you much hurt, Blossom?" she said, kindly ?ud softly ; " don't try to walk yet." The child murmured something which was inaudible. " Are you not sick ?" asked the young lady, in the same kind voice. " No ma'am," faltered Blossom. " I'm afraid you are," said the young lady, gazing at the child with tender pity ; " you must let his lordship send you home in his chariot." " In his chariot, ma'am ?" " Certainly." Blossom murmured that she could walk ; she was very much obliged for her kindness ; then the child paused, her voice dying away in her throat. The young lady had looked at her so kindly, and held the small hand so lovingly in her own, that Blossom, in her weak condition, had been too much affected to speak. "Come, Lady Augusta," said Lord Dunmore, coldly, "let us prepare to receive the guests in the drawing-room. As for this child " " Yes, yes, your lordship," said the young lady submis sively and hurriedly, and turning to the child she said: " Where do you live ?** " Just out of town, ma'am." " What is your name ?" " Beatrice, ma'am but they call me Blossom." "Oh I know," said the young lady, "but your other name ?** u Beatrice Waters, ma'am.** MISS BONNYBKL. 33 Lord Dunmore, who had turned stiffly away, round as he heard this name. " Did you say Waters ?" he asked curtly. "Yes, sir," murmured Blossom. " What Waters ?" "Sir?" " I asked you what was the Christian name of you f ther." " Charles, sir he is Mr. Charles Waters." His Excellency's brow clouded over, and he frowned. " Lady Augusta," he said, " do you know who you are fondling ?'' The young lady turned a frightened look upon her father, and murmured some inaudible words. " You are bestowing your caresses upon the daughter of the most dangerous yes ! the blackest-hearted rebel in this colony! A man," added Lord Dunmore, with growing choler, " who is a firebrand of sedition, and who will swing from the gallows if my authority lasts, and I lay hands on him ! It is his offspring that my daughter, madame, is be stowing her attentions upon !" His Excellency was mastered by one of those sudden fits of anger to which he was constitutionally subject. His countenance reddened, and became puffed up ; the vein in his forehead was swollen, and his small keen eyes flashed, as he spoke in his tone of disdainful roughness and anger. His family were accustomed to humor him when these fits seized upon him ; and by submitting, to thus divert and dissipate those domestic thunderbolts of his lordship. One person present, however, did not seem to have been trained to this species of deference. Mr. St. John had ap parently been in an ill-humor all day ; moreover, he seemed to be accustomed, himself, to courtesy at the very least, and the utter want of ceremony on the part of his lordship, added to the unfeeling insults directed toward his younfj protegee, produced in Mr. St. John's countenance an ex pression of impetuous anger and no little disdain. 34 ,' MISS "Perhaps your lordship is mistaken in the individual who is this child's father," he now said, with cold courtesy. 'Impossible, sir! I'm not mistaken!" replied his Excel lency, surveying the young man with a look which seemed to ask if he had the presumption to address him in that tone. Mr. St. John's brow darkened more and more. " At least this girl does not resemble a very dangerous rebel," he said, with an imperceptible shade of sarcasm in his voice, which made the Governor's cheek flush with rage. " Mr. St. John !" he said. " Your Excellency," was the cold reply. "This is a singular colloquy! Your meaning, if you please, in reading me a lecture, sir !" "I read no lecture to your lordship," replied the young man, with a haughty look, and without lowering his eyes ; " my meaning simply is, that whatever may be the charac ter of this child's father his dangerous character your lordship can't possibly be afraid of the child herself." For a moment his Excellency's countenance resembled a thunder-cloud from which a flash of lightning was about to dart. The vein in his forehead turned black, and his frame trembled with anger. But his prudence suddenly came to control him ; he seemed to feel the bad policy of a quarrel with Mr. St. John ; and passing from rage to hau teur, he endeavored to speak in a tone of insulted dignity. "I am not in the habit of entering into debates with young men, sir," he said, "and I must beg that this dis cussion may here end. I am sorry to say, Mr. St. John, that I find you, like other gentlemen of this colony, inclined I to oppose my opinions and wishes, as well as strangely ne glectful of that ceremony and respect which are due to myself, as a peer of the realm and the representative of his . majesty ! I pass over this occasion, sir, and trust that you -will: perceive the necessity of not holding arguments with me iu future, especially in the presence of my family." MISS BONNYP3L. 35 " I did not wish to argue with youi lordship ; you ques tioned me I replied," said the young man, with internal rage, but outwardly as cold as ice. " If any thing which I have said, has wounded the feelings of your lordship's family, I most humbly pray them to pardon me." " Enough, sir," returned the Governor, in no degree mol lified, if any thing, more haughtily than before ; " the Coun- fress of Dunmore and my daughters are not accustomed to have their feelings wounded by everybody; you may ':e at rest upon that score, sir. Now let this conversation end." *' I ask nothing more !" replied Mr. St. John, flushing with anger and disdain at the tone of the Governor. " I will see that this young person is conveyed home if the man Waters does not conceal his abode but I certainly shall not send my chariot and servants to the house of a traitor !" " Your Excellency need put yourself to no trouble my own carriage is at hand, and I take charge of the child." " Do so, sir ; and permit me to congratulate you upon making the friendly acquaintance of a treason-monger! It is quite in character to allow his helpless daughter to wan- der about unprotected. A traitor makes a heartless father, and a bad man.*' Before Mr. St. John could speak, another voice was heard it was Blossom's. The child had listened wi^h pale cheeks, and a frightened look, to the fiery colloquy, and had not dared to open her lips. But now her father was insulted more grossly than before ; his very affection for her was called in question ; the little heart boiled over with pain and anguish ; and clasping her hands Blossom cried : "Oh no, sir ! indeed, indeed papa 'snot bad! He loves me deaily, and he did n't know I came, sir." " Enough of your childish twaddle !" said Dunmore con temptuously. " I 'm not here to be wearied by it. I '11 make your rebel father whine, too, oefore I have done with him !" " Oh me "' sobbed Blossom, piease let me go, sir 1 1 6 MISS fcONHYBEL* I do not feel well. I ought not to stay anl hear papa abused." " Go, then !" Blossom rose quickly, with a flood of tears, ana turned to ward the door. But again her strength failed her ; she turned deadly pale as her bruised foot touched the carpet, and fell back sobbing. The arma of Mr. St. John received her, and thus standing, with pale face and fiery eyes bent on the Governor, his in dignation and disdain were imperial. He would have spoken, but his pale lips refused their office. With a single look of defiance at his Excellency, the young man raised the form of the child completely in hia arms, and left the apartment and the palace. He passed rapidly with the sobbing girl along the graveled walk beneath the lindens, and issued from the great gate, Without pausing, he strode along Gloucester street, fol lowed by wondering eyes, and soon reached the Raleigh Tavern. In fifteen minutes a handsome chariot, with four splendid bay horses, stood before the door, and Mr. St. John deposited the child in the vehicle. Her delicate form sunk into the luxurious velvet seat as into a bed of down, and Mr. St. John took his place by her side. He then gave an order V the negro driver, and the chariot proceeded slowly out oi the town in a westerly direction. The young man had made but one allusion to the scene at the palace ; uttered but one word ; that word was " Vulgarian !" It was Mr. St. John's honest opinion of his Excellency Lord Dunmore. The evening was a lovely one, and the sun had sunk be- yond the belt of forests, leaving the sky rosy and brilliant, and swimming in a gentle mist. The birds sang merrily, and the woodland road unwound itself like a ribbon before them as they penetrated into the leafy depths of the for est. MISS BONNYBEL. 37 The anger and disdain of Mr. St. John slowly disappeared, and he seemed to enjoy the freshness ad innocence of his little companion. At last they reached Blossom's abode. It was a small cottage, fronting south, and had about it an air of home comfort which was very attractive. The tender foliage of May appeared to wreathe the small portico, the drooping eaves, and even the old chimneys ; and a thousand flowers, chiefly early roses, studded the diminutive lawn, and filled the warm air of evening with their fragrance. Blossom had indeed told her companion that the cottage was called " Roseland," and the name was perfectly appro priate. On the threshold was no less a personage than Mr. Paul, in an attitude of profound despair. He had just returned to the cottage, hoping to find his companion, from whom he had been separated in the crowd, and not finding her was about to go back to the town, he declared, and find her or perish in the attempt. That was happily unnecessary, St. John said, with a smile ; and so, with mutual good will, the young man and the children parted. St. John returned in his chariot to Williamsburg. The town was brilliantly illuminated. From every win dow along the main thoroughfare lights blazed in honor of his Excellency and his family.* The crowd of revelers was greater than ever, and the palace of the Governor was one mass of light more especially the great drawing-room, where, under the globe lamps, and fronting the portraits of the king and queen, the amiable countess, supported by her daughters, received the congratulations of the gentry of the colony upon her reunion with his Excellency. Dismissing his chariot, Mr. St. John went and gazed for some moments at the brilliant front of the palace. " The silly masquerade may go on its way without my assistance," he muttered, coldly. " I '11 not go there and bow and simper when his lordship's put a slight on me * Historical Illustrations, No. III. AS MISS BONNYBEL, insulted me! Hang him! let the rest pay .him their ft-. ? pects I won't, and there 's an end on 't." With these words Mr. St. John retraced his steps to tha Raleigh Tavern, and sitting down, demanded a bottle of wine and some biscuits. Having finished his repast, he went out, passed down Gloucester street, and entered a house, whose second floor he occupied. Throwing himself upon a lounge, he tossed his hat and sword on the floor, and looked through the window " I 'm the only one who do n't illuminate," he said. " W^ell so let it be." And leaning back, he closed his eyes meditated, and from meditation glided into sleep. CHAPTER VI. THE GREAT GRANDSON OP POCAHONTAS. HENRY ST. JOHN was the only son of Colonel John St. John, of " Flower of Hundreds," in the county of Prince George. This John was himself the only son of Henry St. John, Esquire, called " King Harry," who having run through a fine estate in Hertfordshire, England, came to Virginia about the time of Bacon's rebellion, in which he took part against the government, but, by good luck, es caped with the payment of a heavy fine. He married, the second time his first wife, who was a Miss Pendleton, hav ing died without issue Miss Virginia Rolfe, daughter of Thomas Rolfe, Esquire, the only son of Pocahontas, daughter of Powhatan, King of Virginia, whose empire stretched from Florida to the great lakes, and from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. The Mr. Henry St. John of our narrative was, therefore, the lineal descendant of Pocahontas. We have little genius or fondness for t"ne details of pedi MISS BONNYBEL. 3fc gree, but surely 't is a source of noble pride to be descended from our dear Virginia maiden. Royalty and nobility are but vulgar things, and the boast of Norman blood is but the child's fondness for the rattle of a toy. The grace of the fashion of it perisheth its glorious beauty is a fading flower only the shadow of a shadow stays. It is different in the case of the descendants of our little queen of the West. Her patent of nobility was won beneath the war club raised above the head of a poor captive ; her royihy was the royalty of a noble heart, of a great and pure cievo- tion to the cause of love and mercy. So writes the good author of these manuscripts. Let us pass, however, to the young gentleman who had in his veins the blood of this new Indian royalty. As he sleeps, in the flood of light from the tall silver can dlesticks, it is not difficult to fancy, from the wild grace of his attitude, and the character of his face, that something of his origin reveals itself. The face is a handsome one, with a clear brown tint, al most that of a brunette, and the hair is dark and waving. The rounded and prominent chin indicates resolution, and the curve of the lips, which possess great mobility, as plainly show that the young man is subject to strong passions. In the scene with the Governor we have observed the quick shades of anger and resentment only ; but now this has quite disappeared, and, sleeping like a placid infant, all the fea tures of the face have subsided into softness and repose. In his dreams the young man smiles, and the smile is one of great sweetness. Leaving to the course of the narrative any further indi cations of Mr. Henry St. John's peculiarities, we proceed to relate that, at the end of an hour, he was waked by a knock at the door, which was followed by the entrance of a young man clad in the height of the fashion. Indeed, it might almost be said that this young gentleman's costume was one mass of lace and embroidery. The drop curls of his flaxen peruke were glossy with perfumed powder^ a 40 MISS BONNYBEL. little 1 dress sword just lifted up the skirt of his richly deco rated pourpoint of Mecklenburg silk, and his aristocratic hands were covered with the finest point de Venise. Mr. Tom Alston for that was the name of the worthy pre sented a mixture of the fop and the philosopher in his dress and manner, and seemed to have stepped carelessly from the frame of one of Vandyke's pictures. He extended two fingers to his friend and sat down. " Not sleeping, Harry, my boy ?" he said. " Why not at the Governor's ?" " I preferred staying away. Did you go ?" " Yes a crowd of nice girls, and refreshments of a pleas ing description." " Very well but I do n't regret my absence," said Mr. St. John ; " the fact is, Tom, I 'm tired of his lordship, and think I'll resign my commission. I 'm no man's servant, and I won't be his Excellency's." " Eh ? His servant ?" " Yes. I am absolutely nothing more. There, let us leave the subject, or I 'm sure to burst forth into useless expletives.'* " Expletives ?" said Mr. Alston, tranquilly. " Come, tell me all about it. I see that something has occurred, and I 'm really dying to hear a bit of scandal absolutely none for a whole week. Do proceed, Harry, my boy, and narrate from the beginning, with all the orations, like that tiresome old Thucydides." Mr. St. John was silent for a moment, and then said : " I do n't care if I do, Tom. I feel as if the historic muse would come at my call, and I '11 try her. Well, here goes, but you are not to yawn at my apologue." "By no means," said Mr. Alston, with an air of reproach. " Proceed, my friend." " Well, you must know that there formerly resided in a country called Virginia a young man called Harry St. John. You understand so far ?" ' Yes." " Well, this young man, who had the niisfo tune to logo MISS BONNYBEL. 41 Iiis parents in his childhood, was sole heir to an estate called the ' Flower of Hundreds,' upon which estate there was a big old house, full of deer antlers, fine furniture, tall mirrors, portraits of old fellows in periwigs, and dames in odd-look ing dresses ; and in the stables were as fine a collection of thorough-breds, 'twas said, as any in the colony. Every thing else was ample and comfortable, and it was reasonable for the youngster to expect a life of ease and satisfaction was it not ? He might marry his cousin, grow fat, irosido at the county court, and be a respectable vestrymai of" the parish. There were plenty of foxes on his lands, and a quar relsome neighbor near at hand, with whom he might, at any moment, plunge into a good comfortable lawsuit. In a single word, all the elements of human happiness were at the young fellow's disposal, and he had only to ' enter and enjoy,' as the lawyers say." " He was a lucky fellow, my boy. I should like to know him," said Mr. Alston. " As to the luck, there's the question,*' continued Mr. St. John, "for nature had put a nail in the young man's shoe restlessness. He longed for something more excititig than plantation life. Having left college, he came into his prop erty, carefully administered by his excellent uncle, Colonel Vane ; but very soon he began to grow dissatisfied. You see, the couches were too soft, the beds were too large, the wines were too good, and the fields which stretched far away to the horizon from the portico of the old hall, were de ficient in rugged beauty and picturesqneness, such as the mountains yield. In a word, the youthful heir was tired of the insipidity of farm lite, and longed for something like adventure, having a private impression of his own that the clash of swords and the whistling of bullets would make merrier music than the winds in the trees, or the waves lap ping on the banks of the river." "Odd," observed Mr. Alston, "but I think I under- land." "Well," proceeded Mr. ^t. John, "this young 42 MISS BON-NYBEL. struggled with his passion for two or three yeaic, but at th<5 end of that time his predilection got the better of him. A nobleman came to be Governor of the country he lived in a vulgar fellow named Dunmore." " Oh ! a vulgar fellow do you say ? But proceed, my friend." " You '11 see before I end, if I am wrong in my character ization, Tom," continued Mr. St. John. ""We!I, as I said, ^his man, Danmore, came to the country in question, called Virginia, and a great talk was made about his excellence and greatness. He professed to be most solicitous about Virginia, and turned his attention especially to repelling the attacks of savages upon the western frontier. He said he wished the inhabitants to hold themselves in readiness to march under his command, and as a proof of his intention to act vigorously, he brought with him some foreign sol diers, who would serve as a nucleus for the proposed forces. Exception was, however, taken by some persons to the presence of this body of men, and in order to allay the dis quiet, his Excellency sought for a Virginian who should be placed, as it were, in their front rank, to disarm this senti ment. Here commenced the connection of Mr. St. John with his Excellency. Introduced to him as one of the large landed proprietors of the colony, his Excellency treated him with much politeness, and finally requested private inter views. Would Mr. St. John accept the commission of lieutenant, commanding, for the present, this nucleus? they would ere long march to the frontier, and much glory would ensue. Do you understand ?" His friend nodded. " The aforesaid Mr. St. John was then twenty-three or so, and had greater thirst for adventure than ever. Would he accept ? Yes, most willingly. No sooner said than done He leaves his estate, comes to the capital, establishes himself therein as becomes a soldier, and gloriously parades on horse- hack, in fine uniform, at the head of his troops. He enter into military affairs with ardor and enthusiasm he trains MlsS MXXSVBEL. 43 his men in quick evolutions, in bush fighting, in rapid dis charge of pistols, and in approved cut and thrust with the saber. He sees that their arms are as brilliant as silver ; their uniform and entire equipments perfect. He calls on his Excellency every day to inquire for news from the fron tier, and receiving comforting answers, goes away twirling his mustaches, his sword clanking against his boots, his head full of martial glory, and conscious of the admiration oi every urchin who beholds him." " Of none of the girls eh, my boy ?" inquired Mr. Al ston. " Doubtless, for you know the gentler sex admire the sol dier, at least some of them. But to proceed. The young man, you see, is ready, impatient ; but somehow the order to march is delayed, his Excellency's excuses are repeated, the young fellow's assiduity finally seems distasteful. More over, the troops he commands seem permanently stationed in guard houses, Hanking his lordship's gate they attend solely on his lordship's person they ride behind his coach, and are called by him, " My Guards." His lordship is a king, the young lieutenant a satrap of the provinces, and, contrary to the habit of Virginians, he has become an upper servant. Can you wonder that the result is distaste upon his part ; that he begins to think his Excellency insincere ? He finally concludes that he is tricked, and it is just at this moment that he receives orders to marshal " My Guards," and go and receive the royal family on their entrance, which event occurred this morning. Well, he obeyed. They were ladies, and he was far from objecting to take part in the pageantry. But he found in this cortege other characters lords, honorables, captains, drivers, footmen, outriders it was his place to escort them all. He did do it. He mounted guard at the palace gate even, to keep the ill-bied Virginians at their proper distance. He succeeded. Well, now for the conclusion. The young soldier rode a spirited horse ; the music of a band annoyed him, the animal became restive, and the result was the overthrow of a child, whp 44 Vo rolled beneath his feet, and, when the you-ig man raised her, fainted away. He went to the nearest point for some cold water, procured it in the palace, and for presuming to so intrude was insulted by his Excellency. You see his lordship was an English nobleman, and the young man was only a Virginia gentleman. Not only the young man him self was outraged, but the child who accompanied him waa grossly insulted and wounded ! and Mr. Lieutenant St. John was requested to retire and make way for his betters! Curse mel if the man's one particle of a gentleman, and I'll throw his commission back in his face !" cried St. John, flushing, and thus breaking forth with long-gathering indignation. Mr. Alston was silent for some moments, apparently mus ing tranquilly upon the history to which he had just listened. At last he said : " Throw it back, Harry ! what's the use ? Do n't take the trouble rather come with me to my house of ' Moorefield,' where I will try and entertain you, though this peruke from Mr. George Lafong's, who calls himself a wigmaker, is making me silent and melancholy. Come, Harry, my boy, come with me." "No, Tom," said his friend, "I'll tell his lordship my candid opinion of him, if he arrests me the next moment. Hang him ! he sha'n't tread on me, if he is a tyrant !" And Mr. St. John scowled in imagination at Lord Dun- more, with a sincerity that was very striking. " You won't go to Moorefield ?" said Mr. Alston, smiling ; " but that's just the way you always treat me. May I make a second suggestion, however, Harry ? Go to Vanely." Mr. St. John turned his head quickly, and looked at his friend. As he encountered Mr. Alston's eyes and smilo, something almost like a blush diffused itself over his cheek. " Ah ! ah !" said Mr. Alston, laughing, " there's a fine historian ! You make a splendid historic narrative, and you leave out the most striking event in the life of your hero ! You carefully forget to mention that this Vj'ginia Achilles had, g, Briseia this Hector of Prince George county, a pros* MISS BONNYBEL. 45 pective Andromache and that me nodding plume of war was put on to flash in the eyes of somebody !" Mr. St. John blushed unmistakably this time, and then Imrst out laughing. " Well if I did, Tom," he said, ' what s tfce odds ? She a tlie loveliest girl in the colony." " Perhaps ! But why not go and try your luck, then ?" Mr. St. John sighed. " I 'm afraid it 's no use," he said ; " she loves me, but un fortunately she's not in love with me." " A profoundly philosophical distinction ; but did you never hear the Spanish proverb, ' Patience, and shuffle the cards ? Now the cards are at ' Vanely ;' leave this abode of royalty with me, forget his Excellency, and go see Dulcinea." Mr. St. John pondered, and from the varying color of his tell-tale cheek, it was plain what he was thinking of. " Well," he said at last, " I '11 do so, Tom. I '11 follow the advice scratched on the wall yonder, with the odd name, Sir Asinus to it 'The duty of a subject is submission? Yes, I '11 leave this wretched mimic court, and go to Vanely, pro vided you stay all night and go with me." " Done," said Mr. Alston, " and now let us have a game of tric-trac." " Willingly," Mr. St. John replied, " and my first stake shall be these tawdry epaulets of gold thread against six pence the value I attach to them !" Cards and wine were quickly brought by a servant in waiting, and the young men commenced playing. Two hours afterwards they were sound asleep, and an attentive listener might have heard the lieutenant of his Ex cellency's guards murmur the name of a woman of he seemed to be dreaming. 44 MiGS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER VII. CONSPIRACY. WE have glanced at the scenes of the day on whiA, amid the glare of sunlight, and the noisy plaudits of the crowd, the Countess of Dunmore entered grandly the old capital. We shall now pass to the night world ; to a few scenes which concealed themselves beneath the silence and gloom. The lights in the city of Williamsburg had one by one disappeared, as lord and lady, noble and commoner sought their pillows ; all the noises of evening and night had long since died away, and a gloomy silence, only interrupted from time to time by the low muttering of distant thunder, reigned over the ancient town. There was one exception, however, to this total darkness. From the lofty window of a tall mansion which rose like an attenuated ghost above the surrounding roofs, a faint glim mer, like a star, just dispelled the gloom, and even this much light seemed to escape by accident through the chinks of the carefully closed oaken shutters. Let us ascend the precipitous and winding stair-way of the half-deserted mansion, and opening the door of the turret- like chamber, endeavor to discover what business is thus being transacted under the jealous vail of silence and dark ness. The apartment is destitute of all ornament, the furniture consisting only of a long table, a few rough chairs, and some shelves filled with old volumes and papers. It has two oc cupants. The first is a rough-looking man, covered with dust like a courier after a long journey, who is slumbering heavily upon a bear skin thrown down in one corner. The other inmate of the room sits at the table writing rapidly two loaded pistols lying within reach of his hand. He is a man of middle age, clad in a suit of dark cloth, iifTordingr no indication of his character or station. In to MISS BONNYBEL. 47 face and form of this person, however, there is more to at tract attention. The countenance of the stranger is one of those which, once seen, haunts the memory. He has not passed middle age, apparently, but the thin brown locks around his broad forehead are sprinkled with gray ; labor or care has furrowed deep lines from temple to temple, and a slight stoop in the neck communicates to the general carriage that air of intense meditation which characterizes profound thinkers, or those upon whom is thrown responsibility of the most critical character. Covered with the pallor of care or exhausting toil, with clear-cut and resolute features, eyes burning with a gloomy flame beneath bushy brows, and lips set sternly with an expression of iron will, every thing in the face of the stranger indicated an organization of the largest strength, and an intellectual vigor which no obstacle could daunt. His thin muscular fingers traversed the paper for an hour without pausing scarcely, and then, as he reached the end, the stranger laid down his pen, and leaned back in his leather chair. " Why, I grow old 1" he murmured. " This writing for a day and a night only, begins to fatigue me. *T is no matter." And without further words he set about folding the writ ten sheets. They were then enveloped in stout brown pa per, corded, and securely waxed. Upon this envelope was written simply " To Mr. Samuel Adams, " At Boston, in the Province of " Massachusetts." A word awoke the sleeper, who rose quickly and stood at the stranger's side. Few words were exchanged ; the two men seemed to understand each other, and the stranger gave his directions in a brief low tone, to which the courier replied by a slight movement of the head only. " This to the town of Baltimore," said the stranger, tak- tg MISS BONNYBEL. ing n dispatch similar to the one lie had just rinished " yort know the house. This, to Philadelphia guard it carefully. This, to the port of New York as quickly as possible. Have you enough money ?" The courier laid his leather purse on the table, and the stranger examined its contents. " 'Tis enough, unless your horse fails, but that must not happen. Here is more gold, for which you will sign a re ceipt." The receipt was written, signed by the courier, and de posited in a drawer with a number of others. " Go at once now, and proceed cautiously as you leave the town. The patrol is abroad." " Yes, your honor ; never fear me. My service to you, and good times to the cause." The stranger returned the salute, and the courier disap peared. In a few moments his horse's hoofs were heard as he cautiously proceeded along Gloucester street, and the stranger who watched the retreating shadow from his win dow, drew a long breath of satisfaction. " Now for the rest," he said, and leaning against one of the panels of the oaken wainscot, he touched the spring of a secret closet, which flew open. From this aperture he took a bundle of letters, which he placed in his bosom. He then rapidly returned to the table, secured the two pistols in his belt, and throwing a cloak over his shoulders, put out the light, and descended to the street. The moon was just rising through a bank of threatening clouds, which at one moment obscured the red orb, then swept onward and permitted the full light to shine. No wayfarer was visible upon the silent and deserted street, and an expression of satisfaction came again to the features of the stranger. He wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and pass ing along in the shadow of the houses, stopped, at the end of ten minutes, before a low building, into the basement or ril.her cellar of which he descended by a flight of precipit- MISS BONNYBEL. _ 40 ous steps. All was dark, but tho stranger proceeded with out stopping alon the damp passage way, and struck quickly thrice, then, after a pause, once again, upon an iron-bound door. A boy opened the door, and he entered. Two men were engaged at a printing table striking off, by means of a " deer's foot" and mallet, copies of a species of circular. Upon one end of the table lay a pile of these printed sheets, still damp, which every moment received a new addition from the cautious labors of the printers. A masonic movement of the head was the sole recognition which passed. To the stranger's brief question of the num ber of copies printed, the reply was, " two hundred." " That is enough for the present moment," he said ; " fold them securely." This was done rapidly, and with great skill, and in five minutes the stranger stood again in the street. He pro ceeded, as cautiously as before, on his return to the building from which he had issued, stopping for a moment in the shadow of one of the houses to let two of the Governor's guardsmen in uniform go by. They passed within three feet of the silent figure, jesting roughly, their sabers rattling against their huge horseman's boots. The figures finally disappeared at the corner of Palace street, and the solitary man hastened onward, keeping, as before, in the shadow. He soon reached the tall house from which he had dis patched the courier to the northern provinces, and, opening a narrow gate, disappeared. Behind the building, in the deep shadow, a horse awaited him, and, mounting, he issued forth and proceeded cautiously in a westerly direction, keep ing as much as possible in the darkness. He reached in safety the last house of the town, the mut tering over head nearly drowning the noise of his horse's hoofs, and was about to issue into the country, when, as he came opposite the door of this house, a party of the Gov ernor's patrol, who had been drinking in the ordinary, chal lenged him and commanded him to halt. The stranger's 50 MTSS BONNYBEL. reply was the spur in his horse's side, which made the animal bound ten feet. A second and louder challenge was instantly followed by the quick report of a carbine, and a ball passed through the horseman's cloak between his side and his bridle hand. With an unconscious movement as rapid as lightning he drew one of his pistols, cocked it, and leveled it, with flashing eyes, at his assailants. He did not discharge it, however ; quickly replacing it in his belt, he muttered, "Useless !" and put spur to his horse. Before a second carbine could be brought to the shoulder, the figures of the stranger and his flying animal had disap peared like shadows under the gloomy foliage of the great woods. Without checking his horse, and with the air of a man who knows the road as well by night as by clay, the stranger went on rapidly, penetrating deeper and deeper into the forest, whose heavy boughs moaned in the wind. At the end of half an hour's rapid riding, he came to a sort of glade in the woods, and as he emerged from the dense shadow the moon burst forth from a black cloud, and poured a flood of yellow light upon the open space. Be neath a huge oak, a confused mass of men and horses re vealed itself, and the stranger was challenged a second time. " Good !" he said with satisfaction ; " you are watchful, friend. Wake your comrades ; 't is time for them to be in the saddle." In five minutes as many men were mounted and awaiting silently their directions. The stranger drew from his breast the package which he had taken from the wainscotting. " West Augusta," he said, briefly. One of the horsemen silently rode up and took the dis patch held out to him. " Frederick," continued the stranger. A second horseman came and took this letter as the othet bad done. In the same manner dispatches addressed " Fair fax," " Orange," " Culpepper," " Westmoreland," " Bote- touit," " Essex," "Lancaster," "Accomac," and to other coun MISS BOtfNYBEL. 51 ties, were delivered in turn, one courier having charge of all lying upon his route. The entire province of Virginia, north of the James, was thus apportioned out to these five men, who seemed to understand perfectly what was expected of them. " Friends," said the stranger, wrapping his cloak around him as he delivered the last dispatch, " I need not tell you to be cautious in the carriage and delivery of these missives. You know their importance, and every day the times grow more dangerous, the encroachments of the government up on private rights more daring. I do not conceal thai the dispatches you have received contain treason. Carry them to his Excellency Lord Dunmore, and I will hang on Tower Hill, if I 'm taken. You will be rewarded richly, friends. Enough ! let us now go to our work !" And making a salute with his hand, the stranger was sa luted in turn by the party of men, who, only replying by an indistinct murmur, diverged upon their various routes.* The solitary horseman retraced rapidly the road by which he had come, for the space of a mile ; then taking a bridle path to the left, he proceeded more slowly. In a quarter of an hour he found himself in front of a small cottage, lost like a leaf in the depths of the woods. On its roof the moon poured a silver flood the storm had muttered itself away into the distance. He dismounted, opened the door by means of a master- key, and taking a light which was burning upon the table, ascended the stair-case to his chamber. Upon a chair lay a valise, ready prepared for a journey, and as the eye of the stranger fell upon it, his brow relaxed, and an expression of softness which his features seemed in capable of, communicated to the resolute countenance a sin gular attraction. Then his head turned unconsciously as it were toward a door leading from the chamber into another, apparently. This door he cautiously opened, and passed through into an adjoining room. * Historical Illustrations, No. IV B2 It wns the chambo. of a girl, fni! of little feminine meuts, an t" MISS UONNYBEL. 67 And leaning upon Cato, the old gentleman reached the chariot, and was comfortably deposited within upon the soft cushions. The young girls bade him good bye, with a kiss; and old Cato having received an intimation from the colonel that he would thrash him on his return, if he drove 1'aster than a slow walk, the chariot rolled away over the smooth gravel at a brisk trot, and was soon out of sight. It had scarcely disappeared behind the foliage, when half a dozen ladies and gentlemen on horseback appeared at the outer gate, and mounted the hill at full gallop. They dis mounted before the house in the midst of a joyful clatter and a shower of kisses, and Miss Bonnybel seemed ready tt dance with delight at the anticipation of a frolic. CHAPTER XI. A MAT MOENINQ IK '74. OUB history will not admit of a detailed description of the events of the day at Vanely, else should we take pleas ure in relating how the gallants in ruffles and powder paid assiduous court to the damsels in hoops and furbelows; how laughter and sighs, bright glances and jests, with incessant rattling on the old harpsichord, filled the morning. Many songs were sang, and in truth says our good au thor, full of admiration, as usual, of the damsels there was rarest music in those girlish voices caroling the tender or gay ditties of the past. The ardent love of faithful shep herds for the dearest shepherdesses sang in their madrigals, and all was love and sunshine, laughter, merriment and joy. Sparkling eyes lent point and brilliancy to jests from rosy lips ; and all was May in the old house, whose very portraits seemed to smile and say, " Be happy while 't is May !" At last the gay sunshine drew them to the lawn, and soon they were wandering across the flowery grass, and undei 68 MISS BONNYBEL. the old century oaks a merry party, brilliant as the flowers which the little maidens really resembled in their variegated dresses, and eommaiilcaUug to tl.o grounds of the old home stead new attraction.* The birds sang merrily above their heads, flitting from tree to tree across the mild blue ; the apple blossoms lay upon the boughs like fragrant snow, and the fresh river breezes, bearing on their wings the odor of the sea, blew on the tender foreheads, and made every cheek more rosy, and ran through the branches overhead, dancing and sing ing, and then died away, a musical murmur, mingling with the carol of the maidens like a symphony from airy harps. And suddenly in a dell of the forest, or rather beneath a knoll of the lawn, they came upon a very pleasing device of Miss Bonnybel's nothing less than a most tempting array of edibles scattered in picturesque confusion on the grass. Heavy slices of fruit-cake piled themselves up or lay in masses ; cut-glass dishes scarcely held the golden moun tains of cool jellies ; bottles of the colonel's finest sherry rolled about, like topers overcome with liquor, in the grass ; and in the center a huge round of beef flanked with cold fowls and ham, twinkled in light and shadow, as the boughs of the great oak moved with the breeze. Laughing like children at the pleasant surprise, the young men and maidens hasten to the spot, and the attack com mences very vigorously. It is a scene from " As You Like it," or of Robin Hood's day, or such as Watteau liked to place on canvas. Seated on the emerald sward, in attitudes of careless ease and graceful abandon, with saffron laces around snowy arms, and silken dresses emulating tulip beds, and small hands grasping slender glasses filled with gold, arid merry laughter at a thousand jests thus scattered over the lawn, beneath the rustling boughs of the old oak, the party make a little Arcady for themselves, without a cloud, filled full with sun shine. * Historical Jllustrations. No V. MISS BONNYBEL. 69 '' >T is really charming," says Tom Alston, who, having finished his repast, gently smoothes his ruffles with one hand, holding a glass of sherry in the other ; " 't is quite a sylvan scene, from one of the pastorals, of Mr. Pope, say." " Or Theocritus," adds a young gentleman recently from college. " Yes," says Mr. Alston, " and reminds me of a similar scene, when I was a young fellow, in Effingham woods." " When Kate Effinghani was your sweetheart," cries Bonnybel, laughing. " Really ahem ! really now," replies Mr. Alston, mod estly, " I prefer not alluding to these subjects, but I believe that most charming young lady did have some regard for me." Mr. Alston looks more modest than ever, and adds, " I, however, resigned her to my friend, Will Effingham sacrificed myself on the altar of friendship they are now married." General laughter greets this communication, and a smile even wanders over the countenance of Helen. The laugh ter does not embarrass Mr. Alston, who says, " On that agreeable occasion, Miss Kate sang a charming song ' I 'm o'er young to marry yet ;' also another, which methinks no poet has surpassed ' There lives a lass upon the green.' " Mr. Alston's talent is well known, and he is besieged' to sing. He receives the proposal with surprise, declares he has a cold protests he can not. At the end often minutes, however, he is singing in a voice of great melody. This is his song : " There lives a lass upon the green ; Could I her picture draw, A brighter nymph was never seen ; She looks and reigns a little queen, And keeps the swains in awe. " Her eyes are Cupid's darts and wings, Her eyebrows are his bow, 70 MISS BONNYBEL. Her silkon hair the silver strings, Which swift and suro destruction bring* To all the vale below. " If Pastorella's dawn of light Can warm and wound us so, Her noon must be so piercing bright Each glancing beam would kill outright, And every swain subdue 1" Much applause follows, and Mr. Alston raises his glass " I have the honor of drinking the health of our hostess, Pastorella," be says, bowing to Bonnybel. The young lady rises, and makes a low and demure cur- tesy, endeavoring to smother her laughter, caused by the languishing expression of Mr. Alston. It bursts forth, how ever, and all join in the merry peal. At the same moment, a distant cannon booms across the fields, and every one starts. Bonnybel claps her hands and cries that it is Captain Fellowes, of the *' Charming Sally," with all the new London dresses 1 She has seen his arrival at York in the Gazette, and he always fires his swivel at the landings ! Miss Bonnybel's excitement about the new dresses is con tagious, and in fifteen minutes the entire party of young la dies, accompanied by their cavaliers, are galloping toward the Vanely wharf. The " Charming Sally" has gone aground, owing to low water, at some distance from the piers running out into the river, but the large boat, always lying below the old ware house, is put in requisition, and, propelled by two stalwart and grinning Africans, the craft plunges her cutwater into the current, and lands the party on the vessel. Captain Fellowes is a good-humored old tar, and meets the young people with the air of an old acquaintance. To Miss Bonnybel's excited question as to her dresses, the old fel low replies by lugging down his book of entries, smiling, and the young lady having come to V, reads aloud hur riedly MISS BONHYBEL. 71 " Colonel Vane Vanely Landing Prince George casks Canary boxes Zante currants oranges Barcelona Lucca olives saddles harness volumes in leather, namely gowns from Madam Fenton over against " " Here it is !" cries Miss Bonnybel ; *' look, Helen ! every thing we sent for !" Helen smiles she is less enthusiastic. " O thank you, Captain Fellowes 1" cries Bonnybol ; M you must not laugh at me for my noise, for you know I 'm not one of the lords of creation. Please send these boxes at once to the house, and papa's Canary for dinner, if he comes back." To all this, Captain Fellowes growled a good-humored assent, and then the party, having scattered themselves over the vessel, and satisfied their curiosity by inspecting every thing, ree'ntered the boat and were rowed back to the wharf. But not to the sons or the daughters of men, come days without a cloud unalloyed pleasure the rose without the obstinate thorn. Bonnybel and her cousin were the last to leave the boat. With dancing eyes, and bright cheeks, rosy with pleasure, the young lady hastened to ascend the wharf. But unhappy to relate, her slipper was placed much too carelessly upon the smooth gunwale ; the boat swayed, and slipping first upon her knee, then wholly, Miss Bonnybel was precipitat ed into the river. We need scarcely say that she rose from the waves in the arms of Mr. St. John, who gallantly rescued her. A dozen frightened faces and eager hands were immedi ately stretched out, and the young lady stood safely upon the wharf; but with a direful change in her appearance. Her hair had fallen upon her shoulders, and streamed with water ; her furbelows had disappeared^ and a small foot clad in a white silk stocking, from which the shoe had been lost, peered from her skirt, from wbjch a flood pf moisture cje- >* MISS r.MYXYRFL. " Oh me ;-' jried the young lady, leaning upon one of hei companions, " how did I fall into the water ?" " Very gracefully," replied St. John. " And you saved me !" " In the most heroic manner," replied the young man, wringing his wet sleeves, " and I know you are too much of a heroine to mind it." "I do n't," said Miss Bonnybel, laughing and blushing as she drew back her foot ; " but, oh goodness, I 've lost my shoe !" It was brought as she spoke, by a negro who had fished it out ; and Mr. St. John most gallantly replaced it upon the foot. It was doubtless owing to the moist state of the stocking that he consumed about twice as much time as was necessary. The ceremony was concluded at last, however, and then the young man would have sent for a carriage, but Bonny bel would not hear of it. She declared that the accident was nothing ; she could return upon horseback as she came ; and mounting with laughter into the saddle, she galloped off with her hair streaming, followed by the other young ladies, and the gallants, who declared that she was a hero ine, and " full of pluck." We shall not pause to discuss the question, but proceed to relate that they soon reached Vanely ; that Miss Bonny bel was forced to partake largely of artificial spirits by good Aunt Mabel, and that the young lady thereafter put on one of the London dresses which punctual Captain Fellowes had just sent from the vessel, and flirting an enormous fan, swept up and down the room with all the mincing languor of a lady of the court, to the great enjoyment of the young ladies, her companions, who greeted the exhibition with much laughter. They had then a great dinner, at which sunset surprised them ; and so the day was done ; but not the merry-making, MISS BONNYBEL. 73 CHAPTER XII. THE WINDOW PANES AT VANMLY. MR. HARRY ST. JOHN changed his wet dress, and having taken a last survey of himself in the mirror, issued forth and descended the stair-case. At the bottom step, he paused and leaned upon the ban ister. A portrait hanging high up on the old wall, among the powdered heads and snowy bosoms of the "Vane family, has attracted his attention. It is a picture of Bonnybel, taken in her fifteenth year, when the London artist came to Williamsburg, and turned his skill to golden account among the gentlemen and ladies of the colony. The little maiden looks lovely on the can vas, in her pretty costume of silk, and lace, and ribbons ; her sunny hair descending upon plump white shoulders ; her mischievous eyes and rosy cheeks peering forth as it were from the brown curls. She caresses with her dimpled hand the head of a shaggy little bipdog, and looks into the beholder's face with a mixture of mirth and tenderness. '"Tis a wonderful art," mutters the young man, "and there 's the very face I 've loved to look on lor many a day full of wild mischief, and yet tender. 'T would make quite a story for the pastoral romances ! the history of my life and now I wish to go away and tight the Indians! " Tom 's right after all," he continued. " I doubtless put on the plume of war to dazzle the eyes of somebody ! I believe I am falling regularly in love ; but what will be the issue I don't know. Well, patience and shuffle the cards, as Tom says; who knows what will happen ?" "Suppose now you look a minute at the original," said a voice at his elbow. St. John turns quickly and sees the vi vacious Miss Bonnybel, decked out for the evening, at his side. 4 74 MISS BONNYKEL. " But if I prefer the portrait ?" he replies ; " it reminds me of old times." " When I was a child, I suppose, sir l n "Yes; and when you loved me more than now." "Who said I did not love you now?" asked the girl, with a coquettish glance. " Do you ?" " Certainly. I love you dearly you and all my cousins." St. John sighed, and then laughed ; but he said nothing, and offering his arm, led the girl into the sitting-room. The young girls, whilst awaiting the appearance of Caesar, the violin player, from the " quarters," amused themselves writing their names, after a fashion very prevalent in Vir ginia, upon the panes of the windows. For this purpose they made use of diamond rings, or, better still, the long, sharp-pointed crystals known as " Virginia diamonds." With these the gallants found no difficulty in inscribing the names of their sweethearts, with all the flourishes of a writing-master, on the glass, and very soon the glittering tablets were scrawled over with Lucies and Fannies, and a brilliant genius of the party even executed some fine profile portraits. Those names have remained there fbr nearly a century, and when afterwards the persons who traced them looked with age-dimmed eyes upon the lines, the dead day rose again before them, and its forms appeared once more, laugh ing and joyous, as at Van ely on that evening. And not here only may these memorials of another age be found ; in a hundred Virginia houses they speak of the past. Yes, yes, says our author, those names on the panes of Vanely are a spell ! They sound with a strange music, a bright wonder in the ears of their descendants ! Frail chronicle ! how you bring up the brilliant eyes again, the jest and the glance, the joy and the laughter, the splendor and beauty which flashed onward, under other skies, in the old Virginia, dead to us so long ! As I gaze on your sur faces, bright panes of Vanely, I fancy with what sparkling MISS BONNYBEL. 73 eyes the names were traced. I see iu a dream, as ii were, the soft white hand which laid its cushioned palm on this glittering tablet ; I see the rich dresses, the bending necks, the figures gracefully inclined as the maidens leaned over to write " Lucy," and " Fanny," and " Nelly," and "Frances," and "Kate;" I see the curls and the powder, the furbelows and flounces, the ring on the finger, the lace on the arm poor lace that was yellow indeed by the snow it enveloped ! I see, no less clearly, the forms of the gal lants, those worthy young fellows in ruffles and fairtops ; I see all the smiles, and the laughter, and love. All is very plain, and I mutter, " Fair dames and cavaliers, what 's be come of all your laughter and sighing your mirth, and bright eyes, and high pride ? Did you think that all gener ations but your own were mortal ? that the sun would al ways shine, the music ever sound, the roses on your cheeks never wither ? You had pearls in your hair, and your lipa were carnations ; the pearls may remain, but the carnations, where are they ? O beautiful figures of a dead generation 1 you are phantoms only. You are all gone, and your laces have faded or are moth-eaten ; you are silent now, and still, and the minuet bows no more ; you are dimly remembered laughter, the heroines of a tale that is told you live on a window pane only !" Old panes ! it is the human story that I read in you the legend of a generation, and of all gener ations ! For what are the records of earth and its actors but frost-work on a pane, or these scratches of a diamond which a blow shatters. A trifle may shiver the tablet and strew it in the dust ! There is only one record, one tablet, where the name which is written lives for ever ; it is not in this world, 't is beyond the stars ! " O there 's Uncle Caesar !" cries Bonnybel, " and we '11 have a dance !" " Yes, a dance !" " O yes!" " How do you do, Uncle Caesar ?** * { A minuet first I" ?6 MISS BONNYBEL. These are some of the outcries which resound through the apartment as an old gray-haired African appears at the door, and removing his fox-tail cap, louts low before the animated throng. CHAPTER XIII. HOW THEY DANCED A MINUET DE LA COUB. WE linger for a moment to look upon the divertisements of that old, old land the far away colonial Virginia. It is all gone from us, and, as says our worthy author, the minuet bows MO longer, but it shall bow in our history as it did be fore. A narrative, such as we write, should not only flow on like a stream toward its termination, it should also mir ror on its surface the bright scenes it passes through the banks, the skies, the flowers of other years, all should be painted on the ever moving current. Therefore we pause a moment to look on the minuet, to listen to old Uncle Cesar's fiddle, to hear the long-drawn music wind its liquid cadences through mellow variations, and to see the forms and faces of the young men and the maidens. They have a quadrille first, and then a couple take the floor. St. John leans on the carved back of Bonnybel's chair, and makes himself generally agreeable. " How gracefully the girls of Virginia dress," he says , "like butterflies, all blue and gold, and down." " Butterflies indeed !" cries the young lady, " and pray what do the gentlemen resemble wasps?" " No ; working bees." " Drones rather !" " What a wit you have 1" says Mr. St. John, laughing ; ** but, really now, just .see. Consider these lilies of the pur- MISS BONNYBEL. 7? lor, they toil not, neither do they spin, ike their grand mothers." " I do, sir 1" " Then you are different. The young ladies do n't sew or spin, they engage Mr. Pate or Mrs. Hunter to relieve them ol it." " Pray, what do you know of Mr. Pate ?" " I know what I read," says St. John, taking up, with a smile, the " Virginia Gazette ;" " see here the notice that Master Matthew Pate has for sale, ' Stays, twin ana single ; jumps, half-bow stays, stays made to buckle before, pin or button,' no doubt with diamond studs, like yours, madam !" " You are extremely wise and learned in the female cos tume; my stays came from London, and I'll thank you " Here the minuet ends, and the particular conversation is lost in the general buzz. It is next Bonnybel's turn, and with a queenly air she says to Mr. St. John, who has en gaged her hand, " You '11 please ask me to dance formally, sir?" St. John smiles, deposits his cocked-hat on his heart, and bowing to the ground, requests the pleasure of a minuet. Bonnybel opens her enormous fan, with ivory decorations, places its downy edge upon her chin, and inclining her head sidewise with a die-away expression, declares, simpering, that really the gallants will not let her rest, she 's wearied with attention, but supposes, since my Lord Bolingbroke has asked her hand, she ought not to refuse. With these words, and in the midst of general laughter, Miss Bonnybel gives her hand daintily to her partner, and they advance into the floor, to the mellow strains of Uncle Caesar's fiddle. It is a little beauty of the eighteenth century, armed cap- a-pie for conquest, that the current of our story now re flects ; the picture will be seen no more in truth, however. unless grandma on the wall yonder, painted at the age of seventeen, steps down and curteseys to us in some reverie 01 dream. 73 MISS BONNYBEL. Bonnybel wears, over a scarlet petticoa", a hooped dresa of yellow satin, all furbelowed and decorated, especially with a row of rich rosettes, down to the feet. The bodice is cut square, the waist long and slender ; the satin tits closely to the young lady's pliant figure, which is encircled by a silver - girdle, and between the silken network of red cords, secur ing the open front, a profusion of saffron lace, kept in its place by diamond studs, dazzles the eye like a heap of new fallen snow tinted with sunset. The sleeves are short, or perhaps it will be more correct to say that the dress has no sleeves at all, the round, dimpled shoulders of tkz young lady being encircled only, so to speak, by a narrow band of silk ; and, last of all, a cloud of gauze floats round the neck and shoulders, reconciling Miss Bonnybel to a pattern which she gazed at somewhat ruefully when it was first unfolded. Bhu; satin shoes, with slender heels about four inches high, and a light head-dress, principally consisting of a wreath of roses, finish the costume ; the young lady having for decora tion only a pearl necklace, rising and falling tranquilly. As this prettily clad little beauty bowed before him, Mr. St. John thought he had never seen a fairer sight, more danc ing eyes, any thing at the same time half so feminine and mischievous. Bonnybel danced exceedingly well ; and as she moved in perfect time to the stately music, and bent in the measured curtesey, until her curls fell like a cloud of dusky gold around the rosy cheeks, and her knee touched the floor almost, thus gliding before him in the fine old dance, and giving him, with dainty ceremony, the tips of her fingers, the young dame made her partner fancy that the most at tractive and provoking fairy of Titania's court had come in from the moonlight, and would flit away as she came. He saw her thus curteseying long afterwards, and when an old man, told it to another generation.* So the minuet bowed and curteseyed itself onward through its stately motions, and with a low sigh of satisfaction and. sell-admiration, died away. * Historical Illustrations, No, VJ, MISS BONNYBEL. 7G But the dancing was not over. A reel succeeded. The fiddler exchanged his mellow cadences for spirit-stirring mirth, the tragic symphony gave way to sparkling comedy. Darting, inclining, clasping and unclasping hands, the gay party bore no bad resemblance to a flock of children turned loose for a holiday. Even the stately Helen's " dignity" was overthrown, and Mr. Tom Alston's tine peruke, from Monsieur Lafonge's, filled the whole wide apartment with its perfumed powder. For almost an hour thus Uncle Ca3sar made the bounding feet keep time to his gay music, and as he approached the end of the performance, the old fiddler seemed to be car ried away by the genius of uproar. With head thrown back, eyes rolling in their orbits, and huge foot keeping time to the tune, his bow flashed backward and forward with a wild delight, and the violin roared and burst into shouts of laughter. Quicker yet and ever quicker grew the movements of the "Snow-bird on the ash-bank," the old musician threw his whole soul into the uproarious reel, and the brilliant forms, with dazzling silks and eyes more daz zling still, and rosy cheeks, and laughter, flashed from end to end of the great room, and whirled through mazes, and were borne like variegated foam upon the sparkling waves those waves of the wild music which roared, and laughed, and shouted over pearls and powder, diamonds and bright eyes, in grandest revelry and furious mirth. So reigned the great CaBsar over man and maid, and so, perhaps, the headlong violin would still be playing but for cruel fate. Suddenly a string snapped, the dance was at an end, and Uncle Caasar, with a long scrape, put bis fiddle under his arm, and made his most impressive bow. The maidens stood still panting and laughing, with undulating forms, and rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes, and vigorous fannings ; and then the reel at an end, they hastily prepared to depart. In vain they were pressed to stay ; and soon, with a mul tiplicity of kisses, (then, as now, a favorite amusement of 80 MTSS BONNYBEL. yo:mg ladies in the presence of young gentlemen,) they fled away into the moonlit forest, with their attendant cav aliers. Fair dames ! what a pity it is that the pen of Him who writes could not adequately paint your joy and beauty, your brilliant eyes, your pearl-looped towers of curls, your dan gerous glances all your sighs, and coquetries and laugh ter ! And if your fair grand-children, following, in an idle moment, their most humble servant's chronicle, cry out with a pretty indignation at the fact, the chronicler can only take his hat off humbly, and bow low, and plead his inability to make the picture ; to tell how beautiful those lilies of the past appeared ; those lilies and dear roses of Virginia fields ; and hope that they are somewhere bloom ing on Virginia walls flowers of the years before ; but fresh still for us, in imperishable memory ! St. John and Bonnybel stood on the portico and watched them till they disappeared. She must have understood the long ardent look which he fixed upon her face, as she stood thus, bathed in the silver moonlight ; but Miss Bonnybel was sleepy and intent on bed. Much as she would have liked to promenade with her companion, and tantalize him with her glances, she preferred retiring. So, pursing up her lips toward him. as though she wished to be kissed, she darted away, laughing, and disap peared. St. John remained alone, musing by moonlight for an hour, and then also retired to his chamber and his bed. It was to dream of her. '" HISS BONNYBEL. 81 CHAPTER XIV. WHICH VERIFIES THE PROVEEB THAT LISTENERS NKVEB HEAR ANY GOOD OF THEMSELVES. ON the morning following the scenes just narrated, St. John leaped out of bed at sunrise, and leaving Tom Al ston still asleep, dressed quickly, and. went down stairs; thence he issued forth upon the lawn, and bent his steps toward the " quarters." Here, in all the dignified state of a log cabin of the larg est size, his nurse, " Mammy Liza," resided. Let it not be a matter of surprise that the lieutenant of his Excellency's guards rose thus early to go and see his nui-se. In the South, and more especially in Virginia, that element of society denominated " Mammy," is of no slight importance and dignity. This lady is of high aristocratic dignity. She is of the Order of the "Bath" in reference to the young ladies of the manor house, both of the " Bath" and the " Garter." Iloni soit qui mat y pense ! For her young master, the old African countess preserves an unfailing attachment and a jealous care. All his goings on are criticised with a watchful supervision. Does he per form a generous and noble action ? the countess is there to say it is just like her boy. Does he sit up late with revel ing blades, and make darkness hideous with tipsy uproar ? the countess eloquently extends her arm, assumes a look of outraged virtue, and rates the delinquent soundly using for the purpose all her vast resources in the art of scolding ; and ending with an ominous shake of the head, an unfavor able comparison of the scapegrace with his honored sire, Old Master, and a prophecy that if he do n't reform, he '11 come to want, and them overseers will be masters at the hall. Does the crushed malefactor \irge in gentle tones that he was merely entertaining his friends, and playing a hand at 82, MISS BONNYBEL. cards, for amusement only? the countess is unconvinced, and requests, with dignity, that she may not be told any thing of that sort ; she never thought that any son of Mis- tress would turn out a sorrow to her; and with renewed ominous shakings of the head, she sends away the penitent criminal, overwhelmed with remorse, and making good res olutions. Beautiful and touching is the love of these old women for the children they have nursed ; and they cher ish and love, and scold and forgive them, with the earnest ness of real maternity. Mammy Liza is an old woman with her head enveloped in a white handkerchief, and she spins at the door of her comfortable cabin, from the summit of whose stone chimney built up outside, a wreath of smoke rises, and glows like a stream of gold in the sunrise. St. John hastens on, smiling, and his shadow falling be fore her, makes Mammy Liza lift her old face. She utters an exclamation of great joy, and in a moment they are sitting side by side on the old bench, talking of a thousand things this talk being chiefly on the part of the old woman, who, with the garrulity of age, embraces the past, the present, and the future, in her monologue. For half an hour they thus sit side by side, and then Mr. St. John rises with the bright smile which makes his coun tenance at times singularly attractive. He has renewed with the old woman all those recollections of his youth and childhood, rapidly disappearing amid the dust of the arena, and the kind old vou has sounded to him like the softest music, the very echo of happiness. As he looks forth thus into the fields, he thinks he sees Bonnybel approaching, and soon this is confirmed. He sud denly passes behind the door, and cautioning the old woman, waits to give the young lady a surprise. She comes on with an active and springy step, clad in a brown gown, thick, serviceable shoes, and a broad-rimmed chip hat ; presenting thus a strong contrast to the Miss Bonnybel of the minuet. B;it her checks are even more MISS BOSTNYBEL. 83 / rosy, her eyes brighter, her laughing lips resemble rea'i car nations. She is followed by a small negro maiden, carrying a basket and pitcher the duty of this maiden at Vanely being to watch Miss Bonnybel's countenance, and run at her nod. Bonnybel's ^ice salutes Mammy Liza, and asks how she is, to which the old woman returns the reply that she is " poorly, thank God ; how is Miss Bel ?" " I 'm as gay as a lark," returns the young lady, summon ing her body-guard, "and I 've been to see Aunt Jane an' 3 all the sick. Aunt Seraphina tried to take it away from me, but I fought her and made her give up,"* added Miss Bon- nybel, with great cheerfulness. St. John, behind the door, laughs silently. The young lady continues, running on carelessly : " Here 's some breakfast, Mammy. I suppose you know the news. Your great General Harry 's come back ! and now I suppose you think I 'm going to praise him ! but you 're mistaken ! He is terribly ugly ! and the most dis agreeable person I ever knew ! Lazy, too ! just think of his lying in bed, with poor little me out here ! It was chilly enough when I got out of my warm bed. But I am going to get up every morning, just to shame those lazy boys. Ha I ha ! now you are getting angry, Mammy ! You want me to praise that stiff, awkward, lazy, odious, good-for-noth ing Harry of yours, but I won't ! Do you believe that he had the audacity to kiss me ! Humph ! he thinks I 'm a child still, does he ? I '11 make him know that I 'm a young lady ! I 'm seventeen ! and I intend to make every one of the boys run when I tell them ! some of 'em are glad enough to !" The young lady paused to catch her breath ; but seeing what she considered an expression of pain upon Mammy Liza's face, immediately recommenced: " Have I hurt your feelings, Mammy, with my talk about your boy? O ! I was only jesting! and I'll say any thing you wish ! To think me in earnest ! He 's the dearest, sweetest, handsomest fellow in the world ! I would n't have had him to miss kissing me for any thing ! He 's sff 84 MISS BONJ7YBEL. v erect, and proud, and noble! and has such an excellent heart ! and dances so well! and rides so well ! and " " Fishes young ladies from the water so well !" says St. John, coming from his hiding place, with a laugh. Bonnybel retreats a step, almost screaming. She recon eiders this, however, and bursts out laughing. " Ain't you ashamed, sir ?" she then says, passing quickly to a pout, " to lie in wait, and listen to me so ! But tt.eve 'a one comfort, you heard my abuse of you ; listenerr oevei hear any good of themselves." "I did," said St. John. " You heard some bad too, then !'* " "Well, I'll mix the good and bad together, and perhaps I shall arrive at your real opinion of your poor cousin." " Now you are commencing your mock humility. I de test you !" And Bonnybel draws away abruptly the small soft hand which, by some accident, has remained in that of her com panion since he took possession of it. There is, however, very little detestation in the tone of the words, or the glance which accompanies them. When they take leave of Mammy Liza, and return toward the mansion over the beautiful dewy lawn, beneath the great oaks, bathed in the red sunlight, an excellent understanding seems to have been arrived at, and Bonnybel is plying tht dangerous artillery of her eyes with fatal effect upon hei companion. Mr. Harry St. John is falling in love as rapidly as it ia possible to go through that ceremony. CHAPTER XV. BONNYBEL LOOKS IN A MIBBOR AND LAUGHd. THE ladies were assembled in the cheerful breakfast room, and half a dozen servants were placing on the broad table a profusion of smoking edibles, contributing to the perfection of that most perfect of inventions, a Virginia breakfast. St. John mixed a julep with the skill and rapidity ot an old practitioner, and the ladies, having each taken a sip, the parties were soon seated around the board, Miss Bonnybel behind the urn. "Did Mr. Alston commence his toilet when you did?" asked the young lady, innocently, of St. John, glancing, as she spoke, demurely at the stately Helen; "he takes as long to dress as a girl, and Bel Tracy said, the other day, that he was no better than one, with his curls and per fumes!" Helen, with a dignified toss of the head, intimates her opinion of this attack upon her admirer, but says nothing. " Just think of Mr. Alston on horseback!" continues Bon nybel, pouring out, " with musquetoon, and saber, heavy boots, and pistols, going to the wars ! Now you all frown at me, as if it was treason to doubt that the elegant Mr. Alston would leap out of his bed, and be ready at sunrise, if the trumpet called to horse !" " I doubt that myself, my dear Miss Bonnybel," said the subject of the conversation, behind the young lady ; " 't is only the breakfast bell that rouses me." And Mr. Alston, in snowy ruffles, and serene smiles, saun ters in and distributes a comprehensive salute. "Was I the subject of discussion?" he says, amiably " Chocolate, if you please, Miss Bonnybel." " 'T was Miss Tracy's epigram about you that was -e- peated," says St. John &6 MISS BONNYBEL. " Ah, Miss Tracy ?" replies his friend. A fine girl, Miss Tracy told me she wished she was a man, the other day." "Well, Tom, she said she regarded you no more than a girl. 'T is only reasonable to suppose that she wishes to change her condition with her sex and marry you. Mr. Bel Tr.icy, on the 10th, to Miss Thomas Alston, daughter of, and so forth, in the ' Gazette !' " Mr. Alston replies, serenely, *' Delighted to many Miss Bell Tracy, but not to change my sex." "I would," says Bonnybel. " You !" says St. John ; " pray why ?" " Oh we 'd have such glorious fox-hunts I and the other boys!" cries Bonnybel, "and such a jolly frolic after wards !" The air of the young lady, while she utters these words, is so excellent a farce that even Aunt Mabel laughs. "But, you will permit me," says Mr. Alston; "what would be the state of mind of your adorers, Miss Bonnybel, for doubtless you wish to marry a young gentleman." " No, sir ! Pray whom ?" "Why, let us say, Will Roan why not espouse that gentleman ?" " For a very good reason he 's not asked me !" laughs the young lady ; " besides, I would n't if he did. I 've no desire to go halves in his affections with the thorough-bred he 's had the goodness, I am told, to call ' Bonnybel,' after me, forsooth !" " Well, Roan ia fond of horses. But there 's Buck Ran- ton. He 's a fine fellow ; though I heard an aristocratic little lady in town, the other day, declare that Mr. Ranton's family were scarcely ' good enough for her he was n't an F. F. V.' " " An F. F. V. ? I hate that new-fangled phrase !" cries Bonnybel, " and I think the young lady was a goose ! I say Mr. Ranton 's every inch a gentleman, and I do n't care a fig about his family !" MISS 13ONNYBEL. 81 " Why not have him then, ray dear Madam ?" .u-ges Mr Alston, gently. Bounybel is silent Mr. Ranton's misadventure being very recent. " Or Charley Fox," continues the gentleman, smiling, and sipping his chocolate; "he at least does not fill his mind with horses like Mr. Roan." " But he does with his namesakes, the foxes !" says Bon- nybel. '"Tis even more humiliating to divide with fox hounds than horses. Mr. Fox's wife is sure to be the keep er of the kennels!" " Say Mr. Lindon, then." The girl's face clouds, and she says, coldly, " I do not like Mr. Lindon." " Well, well," says Mr. Alston, " then I will not further annoy you, unless you will permit me to suggest the names of your friends, Mr. Randolph, Mr. Page, Mr. Pendleton, or Mr. Braxton; I believe they all come occasionally to see you, do they not ?" A smile runs around the table, and for a moment there is silence. Mr. Alston has given an accurate catalogue of the slain and wounded, for whose condition Miss Bonnybel is responsible for all these gentlemen have met with bad fortune at Vanely. Bonnybel, however, is a true woman that is to say, she finds no difficulty in commanding her countenance. "Did you ask if these gentlemen were my friends?" she says, with the most dove-like innocence, "and if they ever came to see me ? Yes, they do, sometimes, sir." Mr. Alston gently inclines his head, sipping his chocolate. "I thought I had seen them here once or twice," he replies, " though not very frequently of late. However, I suppose they have one and all been detained by some little accident." " Do you think so ?" says Miss Bonnybel, with innocent curiosity ; " but while I think of it, pray how do you geq- tlemen propose to spend the morning ?" 88 MISS BONNYBEL. Mr. Alston acquiesces in the change of topic, and says with graceful ease, " I think I shall bestow my poor society on Miss Helen, if she is not afraid of being thrown into a fit of yawning." " And I will ride out with you if you wish," says St. John to Bonnybel. This arrangement is acquiesced in, and the breakfast ends. Aunt Mabel retires to her chamber to supervise the " cutting out," Miss Seraphina to peruse the last romance brought from London, and the young men to smoke pipes and look at the horses. The Vanely stables boa'st many thorough-breds, and more than one racer in full training. St. John had that passion for fine horses characteristic of the soil, and with a corn-cob pipe between his lips, in the midst of a crowd of stable-boys, who respectfully greeted him as an old friend and favorite, discoursed at great length to Tom Alston on the points of the animals, as they were led out, and stepped proudly onward, in the sunshine. The last was a bay filly of elegant proportions, and this he ordered to be saddled for Bonnybel, whose property it was. Soon afterwards Tom Alston having sauntered back to the drawing-room the young man, mounted on his fine " Tallyho," was flying along a winding road of the Vanely woods by the side of his cousin. It is said that ball-rooms, parlors, and social haunts in general, are unpropitious for certain emotions. Either something distracts the attention or the atmosphere is unfavorable to romance. It is added that it is extremely dangerous, however, to a young man to ride alone, with a lovely cousin in a beautiful forest. In the case of Harry St. John this proved true. After that ride, he felt with a sort of fearful happiness, a rueful delight, that his fate was sealed. As they galloped on, his eyes were unconsciously riveted on the mischievous little beauty, who, with rosy cheeks and rippling curls, and slen der figure, undulating in the close fitting riding-habit, re sembled rather a wild nymph of the woods than a mortal MISS BONNYBEL. 89 maiden. Every word she uttered was a jest or an cxcla mat ion ; she performed ? thousand antics on her steed ; the very spirit of the laughing audacious spring seemed to flush her blood. The perfume of a thousand flowers crammed the balmy air with fragrance ; the birds sang joyfully from the oakes and pines; the leaves whispered in the river breeze, and cast a fitful shadow on them as they moved. Our chronicle would grow to ponderous length, if we paused to record the witty nothings uttered by Miss Bonny- bel ; her careless and sparkling jests, pointed with laughter, and bright glances of coquettish eyes. We must leave the conversation unrecorded. All lived, however, in the young man's recollection, and this ride became one of the most de lightful treasures of his memory. Three hours were spent thus ; then the heads of the horses were turned toward home. At the great gate they encoun tered the chariot, and were gaily greeted by the jovial old colonel, who had been detained over night at the house of one of his neighbors. They stopped but a moment ; leaving the ponderous chariot to follow at its leisure, they sped up the hill, and the foam- ing horses were checked before the great portico. In helping the young lady to the ground, St. John did even more than his duty. He quietly took her in his arms and lifted her from the saddle, receiving a box on the cheek for his pains, given and received with laughter. Bonnybel then gathered her long skirt in her hand, and ran up st;iirs to her chamber. It might have been supposed that her object was to lay aside her habit, but her first pro ceeding was singular. She went to the Inrge mirror, turned herself from side to side before it, surveying, from every point of view, her graceful face, her curls, her cheeks, her very dimples ; then, with a proud and triumphant toss of her little head, and a confidential nod, the maiden thre\v aside her chip hat, and letting fall her beautiful brown hair uttered a low laugh. Can "any of our fair readers tell us what slio meant? 90 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER XVI. THE NEWS FROM BOSTON. THE profuse dinner is nearly over, and nothing remains upon the wide table but the nuts and wine. Leaning one arm upon the board, and pushing about the port and Canary, Colonel Vane, with features which gradu ally flush with anger, addresses the two young men : " Yes, gentlemen, you have a right to be astonished 1" he says, " and I share your astonishment." " But 't is not in the last ' Gazette,' " says Mr. St. John. " How could the intelligence have arrived ?" " Well, it arrived through a private channel, but a reli able one. An emissary, who never deceives, announced it yesterday at the court house, and there is no longer any doubt of it. Yes, things at last approach an issue. Gov ernment enacts that, after the first day of June, the harbor of Boston shall be closed by armed troops, her shipping shall rot in the bay, her streets be thronged with red coats, and martial law prevail ! What think you, gentlemen of the colony of Virginia, of this blow at our beloved sister province of Massachusetts Bay ?" "I think 't is a despotic and base exercise of power " says St. John, " and I 'd resist at all hazards." " And I agree with you, Harry," says Mr. Alston, " to the letter." " Yo'i are right, gentlemen," said the old planter ; ** and no North American can see Massachusetts holding out her hand without aiding her. Whatever touches her, touches Virginia, nay, touches all the colonies, for this tyrannical edict is but the entering wedge ! If it does not arm the colonies, then they will lie down in chains for ever ! Miser- alile and woful times! tyrants and knaves banded against honest men !" cries the old gentleman, dashing down his glr^s, \vr;it]if'u|ly. "I'll bucKle o'i my sword and fi^Iit for MISS BONnYBEL. 01 the cause in the ranks, as a common soldier, before I '11 forgot that I 'm a Virginia gentleman, and grovel in the dust, and lick the boots of North and his yelping beagles. And not even tyrannical edicts will answer ! We are to be whipped into submission by this General Gage, commander of his Majesty's forces in the provinces ! He is to cut and hack us to pieces if we dare to murmur ! By Heaven ! we are slaves indeed ! We, the descendants of Englishmen, with the strong arms of our forefathers, and their liberty as Brit ish subjects 1 We who fought for the king on a hundred battle fields, and poured out our best blood like water for our sovereigns ; sovereigns that never gave us any thing to bind our wounds, although we served them generation after generation, as kings were never served ! We Englishmen are to be trodden down and trampled on like a pack of curs, and whipped back to our places by this body of time servers, who are rolling yonder in their wealth, and making laws to bind the chains upon our limbs, as though we were their serfs ! Damn my blood !" cries the colonel, striking the table with his fist, " I '11 give half my estate to arm a com pany, and I '11 march myself at the head of it, if Cato has to hold me on my crutches." During the course of this explosive address, which was terminated by a sudden attack upon the colonel's foot by his old enemy, Mr. St. John leaned back in his seat, and, with folded arms, revolved, in the depth of his mind, the significance of this new blow at the colonies. Was it not foreseen or even reported by its movers, by secret dispatches to Lord Dunmore, and had not this fact something to do with the existence of his Excellency's " guards" at the palace gate soldiers who recognized no other allegiance than that due to their master, and who, if need be, would be employed to awe the inhabitants of Wil- liamsburg and the House of Burgesses ? And he was the commander of this body ! He who swore by the code which the old gentleman had just pro Claimed, who rated his dignity of honest gentleman a.g 92 MISS JJONNYBEL, high as that of a peer of the realm, who was ready to pour out his blood for the preservation of his most trivial right he, Henry St. John, was in the pay of his Excel lency ! The young man's brow clouded and his eyes flashed. " You are right, uncle," he said, " 't is a bitter draught th^y hold to our lips and expect us to drink. I predict that this act will open the eyes of the inhabitants of this colony, ;md that there will soon be a struggle for supremacy with Lord Dunmore. In that cause, I, for one, know which side I '11 be ranged on. I 've long felt that my position yonder was slavery, and nothing but disinclination to retreat from my post in the service of the government, threatened with Indian troubles, has kept me from resigning what has come to be a menial's miserable routine! Lord Dunmore has de ceived me, sir, in a manner wholly unworthy of a gentleman, and I '11 tell him so, if need be. Yes, sir ! if the struggle 's here in Virginia, I '11 myself cheerfully brace on my sword, and strike as hard blows as I 'm able in the contest against this detestable tyranny ! I am more than of your way of thinking, sir. For this body of men across the water to be forcing down our throats every nauseous dose they choose ! binding us hand and foot with chains, no doubt to lash us the better, and so force us along the king's highway, drag ging at our heels the lumbering parliament coach, with my Lord North and his family inside ! I '11 no more wear their harness than I '11 longer don the livery of his Excellency, which I 'm fixed to discard and throw from me, as a plague garment ! I '11 be no nobleman's dog, to hunt his prey and do his dirty work ; I '11 not be this man's lackey a vulgar fellow, in my humble opinion, neither more nor less, and I '11 say it to his face, if I 'm provoked to it !" St. John stopped, red, angry and disdainful, thinking of the scene at the palace. " Well, well," said the colonel, relieved by his explosion, '* let us not speak evil of dignitaries, Harry. I confess I dc not like Lord Dunmore, but he vs Governor." MISS BONNTBEL. 93 St. John made a motion of his head, indicating his willing ness to dismiss so distasteful a subject. " All I have to say, sir," he added, " is that things in Vir ginia seem to be progressing, and we '11 probably have an act of Parliament for our own special behoof ere long." " Well, well," said the old gentleman, who seemed to re gret his momentary outburst, " we shall see." "If I am not much mistaken, sir, his Excellency will en deavor to make us shut our eyes as long as possible, and use his skill to make us believe black 's white. Yes, sir, we shall see, and perhaps we shall do more we shall fight !" There was silence after these words, and the colonel filled his glass and pushed the wine. " Perhaps we will not find in his lordship a tool of the ministry, Harry," he said, " and my old blood flushes up too hotly. I should set you youngsters a better example than rashness. You are already too full of fight. I remem ber Lord Botetourt said to me one day that he 'd throw his appointment into the Atlantic rather than aid in enforc ing upon Virginia a tyrannical regulation of Parliament ; and who knows but the like public spirit may exist in the bosom of Lord Dunmore ; at least 't is time lost to specu late at present. Let us hold in, and watch the action of the House of Burgesses. If they proceed to the resolves which become them, they will come to a point, and his Excellency will have to show his hand." " Yes, sir," said St. John, " and I predict that you'll see a card up his sleeve." The old gentleman smiled. "Well, well, Harry," he said, "we won't charge him with cheating till we see it ; and then it will be time enough to outlaw him. Thank Heaven, we have noble players in the game ! There's Bland, and Pendleton, and Harrison, and Henry, a host in themselves, especially this last, who 's an absolute thunderbolt. There 's Lee, and Randolph, ami Nicholas, and Gary, all gentlemen of conspicuous talents. Mr. Jefferson from the mountains, too, goes, I 'in told, t'.| 94 MISS BONNYBEL. lengths, and is of extraordinary political genius. We must not forget Colonel Washington, whose tine house at Mount Vernon is so delightfully situated on the Potomac. You know how heroically he fought in the expedition against Fort Duquesne, in which I am told he gave General Brad- dock advice which it had been well for that ill-fated gen tleman to 've taken. Certainly Colonel Washington is of admirable presence, and there is I know not what of majes ty in his deportment, and grandeur in the carriage of iris head. I think we have a worthy body of gentlemen en gaged at present in our public aifairs, and history may yet dwell on our period and its characters, and future genera tions may erect statues to these patriotic leaders of opinion. Certainly they do seem to possess remarkable unanimity in distrusting his lordship. But let us wait, Harry, and not try his Excellency before he is caught with the bloody hand an unfortunate illustration I have fallen on, but " " It 's apt, sir." The colonel shook his head in a good-humored way and smiled. "No, no, Harry," he said, "let us be just to all men; let us not forget that moderation is the most fatal enemy of despotism, until it throws off its disguise. Then there 'a time enough to gird on the sword. My preaching and practicing are, I confess, somewhat different on the present occasion, and I 've set you a bad example. But the old hound growls the loudest, you know, because he 's got no ( teeth, and thinks every shadow reason for alarm. There, there, Harry, let us leave all this to the future, and to that Almighty Power in whose hand are the balances of fate the issue of peace and war !" Si. John bowed his head, and was silent. "I'll go take my nap now, boys," added the old gentle- mnn, smiling pleasantly ; "that road to the river 's all fixed, and I shall sleep with a good conscience, and have pleasant dreams, I trust." Having delivered himself of this good humored speech, MISS BONNYBEL. 96 the old gentleman emptied the remainder of his glass of Canary, and, assisted by Bonnybel, who ran to give him hei shoulder, limped from tlie room into the library upon llu- opposite side of the hall. Here, composing himself comfortably in his customary arm-chair, with the gouty foot across another, the worthy colonel covered his face with a copy of the " Virginia Ga zette," and very soon was slumbering like an infant. CHAPTER XVII. THE MODEL OF A PERFECT LOVEB. WE have repeated the conversation upon the subject of the new Act of Parliament, and we now proceed to say, that at Vanely, as elsewhere in that earnest period, actior followed theory. When the family descended on the next morning, they saw ranged in a long row upon the sideboard, the japanned tea-canisters of the house, all hermetically sealed, with the Vanely seal upon the wax.* This ceremony had been performed by Miss Bonnybel, under the colonel's supervision, and from that time forth* until the end of the revolutionary troubles, no tea was drunk at Vanely, as happened at a thousand other places all over the colony. 6 After breakfast, Mr. St. John and the colonel went to witness some operations upon the lands, and Mr. Alston, as usual, betook himself to the sitting-room. We have busied ourselves so exclusively with the say ings and doings of two personages of our story, that Mr. Thomas Alston's adventures have not been even adverted to. We say adventures, for during all these hours at Vauely * Historical Illustrations, No. VI. 00 MISS BONNYBEL. Mr. Alston has been far from idle, and has vigorously aj> plied himself to the prosecution of an undertaking which we have scarcely hinted. Let us still forbear to intrude upon this gentleman's pri vate interviews with his friend ; let us respectfully retreat when he closes, on this eventful morning, the sitting-room door upon himself and that friend ; let us go and return with Mr. St. John and Colonel Vane, who get back in their light carriage after an hour or two. Mr. Alston's sulky stands at the door his horse's Lead held respectfully by a groom. To the colonel's question, whether Mr. Alston intends to depart, his friend, Mr. St. John, replies that he has not been advised of such intention ; and learning soon that his friend has gone up stairs, he follows him, and finds him there. Mr. Alston is seated in an easy-chair, with one foot upon the window sill, the other being elegantly thrown over his knee He is gazing philosophically out upon the landscape, and nods with tranquil greeting to his friend. " What, Tom !" St. John says, " surely you 're not going away : seeing your sulky " " Yes, I think I '11 go, Harry, my boy," says Mr. Alston, leaning back easily. ' "Why, pray?" "For two reasons." " Name them, in order that I may instantly refute them." A serene smile wanders over Mr. Tom Alston's counte nance, and he regards his friend with quiet superiority, aa cf one impregnable. * Do you think you '11 be able, Harry, my boy ?" he ask* " I am confident of it." Mr. Alston smiles and shakes his head. " Come, speak !" says -St. John. " You want my reasons ?" * Yes, both at once, if you choose." MISS BONNYBEL. Jtff * L prefer mentioning them in succession, Harry," v-v, s llr. Alston, "if it 's nil the same." "Entirely: well the first?" " My first reason for departing from this elegant abode of the muses and the graces," says Mr. Alston, eloquently, "is the absolute necessity I'm under of procuring a clean frill, let us say. Can you answer that ?" " Easily you know my whole wardrobe 's at your service." Mr. Alston shakes his head in the old way. " Unfortunately your garments do not fit me, Harry," hp replies, "and nothing but regard for your feelings has pre vented me from revealing the misery I 've experienced from the frill I borrowed of you yesterday." "Why, there 's none better in London !" " You 're deceiving yourself, my dear friend you do in deed !" says Mr. Alston, almost earnestly ; " indeed you are mistaken ! Were it not from regard for your friendship I should feel compelled to say that your linen 's absolutely terrible !" St. John laughs. " Well," he says, " there's no appealing from a matter of taste. Mutato nomine de te, you know, and I '11 wager that the weaknesses in my own wardrobe are shared by your own. But there remains the reason in reply, that you may easily have clothes brought to you from Moorefield." " I fear not." ' Why ? " They would necessarily be rumpled, and to wear a rum pled frill plunges me into untold agony." "Hang it, Tom," says St. John, laughing, " you 'ro really the most perfect maccaroni I have ever seen. There 's no arguing with such a fop dyed in the grain !" " My dear friend, you pain me," says Mr. Alston, mildly ; "pray, don't pursue this mode of talking." " Well, that is as you choose. Come, what 's your second famous reason for departing ? f predict I '11 easily refute this one at least." 98 MISS BONNYBEL. Mr. Alston smiles. " Do you think so ?" he says. " I am confident of it." Mr. Alston nods serenely, and is silent. " Come speak, thou unconscionable Sphynx 1 Thou enig ma of mystery, unfold thy logic." Mr. Alston smiles again. *' I will ask you a question first, my dear Harry," he say? " If you had laid siege to a fortress for many months h;id plied the enemy with your heaviest chain shot, and red-hot cannon balls if you had sounded the trumpet at last, and so advanced bravely to the assault with your colors flying, and your charger neighing and in this, the final and con clusive onset, been ignorainiously beaten back do you un derstand ?" " Yes, so far." " I ask, under such a state of things, would you be likely to remain in presence of the victorious enemy ; be cut, and hacked, and wounded ; worse still, be cut to pieces and dis posed of in a bloody trench, as some one of my friends, the poets, says ? Answer me, or rather do n't, for I see, from your dumb-foundered look, that my reasoning has been con clusive." And Mr. Alston smooths his peruke gently, smiling. " You do n't mean to say " cries St. John, with an out burst. " I do indeed, my friend. I have the hon6r of observing that this morning my addresses were respectfully declined by Mistress Helen, and you behold, really, the most unfor tunate of men !" St. John stands, for a moment, looking at his friend in silence ; his friend returns the look with pleasing smiles. " Well, Tom," says St. John, " I will say that you are the most philosophical discarded lover I have ever seen." " Philosophical ?" " Intensely." " Why, Harry, my boy, you do n't think that propriety MISS BONNYBKL, 90 requires me to strew ashes on my head, do you ? If you think so, there 's the fire-place, and, doubtless, sackcloth is convenient." "What a philosopher!" cries his friend in admiradon. " Well, well, I arrogate no praise. .Why should I ? Why should I pull a long face and groan ? My friend, 't w the fortune of war, and I add, in the unsuspecting and con fiding simplicity of my nature, that this event has happened to me with the same young lady twice before. This should, doubtless, be estimated in the matter, for, you see, I am used to it." St. John received this declaration with a burst of laugh ter. "And you are not desperate ?" he says. " Not at all. After that decent interval which propriety requires, I shall again request Miss Helen's acceptance of my hand, and if she refuses, I shall probably ask her again. Who knows? Some day I am likely to win her, and she 's worth the trouble. She 's no soft peach, my boy, ready to fall into your mouth. The happy fellow who gets her will be obliged to shake hard, and, you see, I 've been shaking Perhaps the fruit 's looser, and will some day fall patience, and shuffle the cards !" Having delivered himself of these remarks, Mr. Alston rises and adds, " C waited to see you, Harry, before going, and I hope you '11 come to Moorefield soon. If you 're here a week I '11 probably see you again, as I 've promised Miss Helen to repeat my visit. There, my dear boy, do n't stare and laugh so. One would think you were surprised at such a thing as a young fellow 's making the attack and being beat en. I confess I was somewhat precipitate. I thought 1 saw a defect in the wall of the fortress in fact Miss Sera- phina told me that Miss Helen admired my peruke, and thought I 'd make a very amiable husband. I should not have been so much deceived but nothing 's lost. T '11 soon be back." 100 MISS BOHTNYBEL. And after the young men had exchanged some more con versation serene on Mr. Alston's part, and full of pent-up laugh :cr on St. John's tUu) desceiid'jd to the hall. Mr. Alston went round, in the Virginia fashion, and took separate leave of everybody, with a friendly and smiling re mark for each. He trusted that the colonel's gout would soon leave him, and that the road to the river would be all he expected. He hoped Aunt Mabel would not have a return of iier cough these colds must be very painful. He thought Miss Seraphina's coiffure was the handsom est he 'd ever seen. He begged Miss Bonnybel to give him the rose in her hair or one of the two in her cheeks. And he expressed to the blushing and quiet Helen the most graceful thanks for the thousand kind things she had done for him during his most delightful visit a visit which he should ever continue to remember, and would certainly repeat before many days had passed. Having gone through these various friendly and compli mentary speeches, Mr. Alston pressed his cocked hat on his heart, and smiling with the utmost courtesy, bowed low, and issued forth. In ten minutes his light sulky, with its rapid trotter, had disappeared in the forest, was seen to glitter with revolving dashes on the road, and then finally it disappeared, carrying away the discarded model of a lover, or the model of a dis carded lover, whichever our fair fr'ends please. MTSS BONNYBTCT.. 101 CHAPTER XVIII. HOW MB. LINDON CAME TO AND WENT. AWAY FROM VANELY. SEVERAL days have passed. It is a beautiful May morning Bonnybel and St. John are talking together in the sitting- room a habit into which they have of late quietly and tacitly fallen. Bonnybel sits in the most coquetish attitude upon one of the old carved-backed sofas, her slender figure supported by the round, bolster-like pillow. She wears a light blue silk, and around her bare arms falls a quantity of lace. From the skirt of her azure silk peep forth in the most acci dental way two delicate little feet, cased in white silk stockings, and red morocco slippers, with high heels and rich rosettes. The slender ankles are gracefully crossed the beautiful feet seem wrapped around each other, so to speak an ill-natured critic might say that Miss Bonnybel had fixed them thus for her companion's inspection and ad miration. He sits at her side, and is showing her a book of engrav ings. One of these is a woman weeping upon the breast of a steel-clad cavalier the illustration of some border bal lad. He reads to her, and for the moment, thoughtful Bon- nybel's eyes are weighed down with an impulsive pity. It is a tale of love, devotion and death ; and as he reads, she turns upon him a pair of violet eyes swimming in tears. No word is uttered the volume lies on her lap St. John holds her unconscious hand, and the beautiful face, with ita large eyes full of tender pity, droops slowly and uncon sciously as it were, toward the picture of the woman weep ing in her husband's arms. This is the pretty little tableau, when, with a shock which skakes both windows, the door is thrown open, and a tall, 102 MISS BOIWYBEL. richly-clad gentleman, the arrival of whose splendid equipage they had not been aware of, is ushered into the apartment. Bonnybel rises calmly to her feet closing the volume which she holds in her hand and returns the low sa lute of the visitor with a cold and ceremonious inclination. Mr. Lindon will pray be seated, and if he will excuse her a moment, she will retire to arrange her somewhat informal toilette. Mr. Lindon, she believes, is acquainted with her cousin, Mr. St. John. With these formal sentences, Miss Bonnybel moves from the apartment and goes up stairs with the air of a duchess subjected to an intrusion. The two men greeted each other with ceremonious cold ness ; on the part of Mr. Lindon there seemed even an .ex hibition of suppressed and somber rage at the changed demeanor of the young lady. He was a tall, powerful man, verging, apparently, on forty, and his bearing indicated a supercilious and yet uneasy pride. In a few moments Colonel Vane entered, and soon after wards, the ladies appeared. Mr. Lindon did not seem a great favorite with these, and when he announced his inten tion of spending the day and night, as his estates lay at some distance, the intimation did not appear to cause any one unusual pleasure. All were scrupulously courteous and po lite, but nothing more. In Virginia, where cordiality and warmth, in the recep tion of visitors, are a standing rule, a greeting of this species always indicates dislike. We have heard Miss Bomiybel, under Mr. Alston's teas ing, speak coldly of the visitor; let us endeavor briefly to exhibit the cause of this coldness. Mr. Lindon was the only son of an English Catholic of ancient family, who had purchased lands on the South Side. These purchases had become a principality, in extent and value, at the time of his death, and his son found himself the possessor of a princely estate. - Lindon the elder had been a MISS BONHYBEL. 103 bigoted Catholic and aristocrat in the worst sense of Jhe term, and his son inherited the same opinions. He honestly regarded his family as the best in the colony, and regarded rebellion against England as a crime of the deepest die. Early enabled to command large resources, Mr. Lindon had plunged at once into every species of vice and dissipa tion. He had lost immense sums at the card table, and even had been charged with cheating. More than one hum ble family had been brought to misery and ruin by his vices and he was liable, at times, to horrible excesses in wine, which had already greatly impaired his vigorous constitu tion. His character was a strange mixture of boldness and cunning, of reckless courage and hidden treachery, and the influence of his religious training, in the worst tenets of the Jesuits, was very discernible. Under an affectation of chivalric honor, he concealed a powerful tendency toward secret scheming, and this unfavorable characteristic already began to be suspected by the gentlemen with whom his po sition enabled him to associate. Mr. Lindon had made the acquaintance of Bonnybel some months before, and she became the passion of his life. He paid his addresses to her with a conquering air, however, and, to his profound surprise, found himself at once dis carded. He had scarcely been able to restrain an explosion of rage and astonishment ; that a man of his family and wealth should be refused, was wholly incredible to him, and after a month's reflection, he came to the conclusion that there was some misunderstanding in the matter. Let us pass over the events of the morning, and the cere monious dinner, so unlike the habitual family reunion, fuL of talk and laughter, and come to the afternoon. Perhaps we shall find if there was such misunderstanding. The meal had been over for an hour, and as they dined early in those days, Mr. Lindon solicited the company of Miss Bonnybel for a walk. The young lady pouted, but finding it would be discourteous to refuse, consented, hop- 104 MISS KONNYBEL. ing to induce Mr. St. John and Helen to accompany them. Helen was unwell, however, and so, in no favorable humor toward her cavalier, Bonnybel was soon walking with Mr. Lindon on the lawn. Mr. Lindon's cheeks were somewhat flushed with the wine he had been drinking ; but the Canary of the colonel seemeJ only to have added to his habitual ceremony his uneasy ail of haughty defiance. " We have a fine evening, Miss Vane," he said, settling his chin in his voluminous white cravat, " and this scene re minds me of that at my estate of ' Agincourt.' " " Does it, sir ?" she said, coldly. " Yes ; it was so called by my father, the name of the family hall, in England, being similar." Mi - . Lindon settled his chin deeper in his white cravat, and added : " It originated after the great battle of that name. Sir Howard Lindon, my ancestor, won his spurs there, though our race came in with William the Conqueror." " Yes, sir." "The king, in recognition of Sir Howard's services, created him a Knight of the Bath, which, however, he did not long enjoy, having fallen on the field, some years After." " You do not retain the title, I believe, sir," Bonnybel said, coldly, forcing herself to say something. " I do not, having no right, I fear, madam. It is hard to be thus deprived of what 's honestly my due." Bonnybel inclined. " Like many other noble families," said Mr. Lindon, rais ing his head proudly, " we have suffered misfortune, and of all our princely possessions, in the mother country, nothing remnins. It is true that my place of ' Ag-ir. court' is not wholly contemptible, consisting as it does of ten or twelve thousand acres, with three dwellings, besides the manor house." And Mr. Lindon settled his chin again. MISS BONNYBEL. 105 " That is a rery.fine estate, I should think, sir," said Bon- nybcl, coldly. '' Yes, tolerably fine, but my negroes, a thousand in num ber, if I do not mistake, are badly managed. Still I can not complain. My annual income, from numerous sources. is some fifteen or twenty thousand pounds sterling, and I tind that adequate to my wants." "It is a very handsome income, I should suppose, sir." "Vanely is not quite so large as Agincourt, I be^evt,-, madam ?" " I am sure 't is not, sir," said Bonnybel, quite calmly ; " though I do not know the extent of papa's grounds." " Vanely is very richly cultivated." " Is it, sir ?" " Very but you will pardon me for saying that I did not come hither, upon this occasion, to compare plantation views with Colonel Vane, madam." " You did not, sir ? " No, Miss Vane, and I think you do not misunderstand me." Mr. Lindon's stately ceremony did not -melt at all as he thus spoke. Bonnybel made no reply. Mr. Lindon was silent for some moments too, then he aid, " I observed that this scene of hill and meadow, oak forest and pine, reminded me of ' Agincourt,' and I often sit upon my portico and think of Vanely." "Do you, sir?" " Yes, madam, and I will add, of yourself." Bonnybel inclined her head silently, and prepared for the rest. " Since I had the misfortune to be deprived for a time of your society" this was Mr. Lindon's graceful paraphrase of bis discardal " I have not been able to banish your imnge from my mind, Miss Vane." Bonnybel was still silent and cold. "I have found no one to supply your plnce," continued 106 MISS BONNYBEL. Mr. Lindon, with a look cf increasing condescension, " and you will thus scarcely be surprised to find that I have re turned to ask if you have not seen reason to change your determination. Do not speak yet, Miss Vane you seem about to I desire you to ponder before replying. It is proper that I should repeat that I am the possessor of a great estate, and this fact can not be destitute of weight with a young lady of your excellent sense. Of my family, I think, I need not speak," he said loftily, " but I should of more material things. As my wife, you will have, at your com mand, every luxury which wealth can purchase, chariots, plate, tine horses, and assemblies as often as the mistress of 'Agincourt' pleases. I am quite willing, if you desire it, to settle upon you an annual amount to the extent of one third of my entire income ; one entire third, I say, madam, and this you may expend in such manner as may seem suitable 1o yourself. It is proper to say that I shall require my sons fo embrace the faith of the Catholic Church, unjustly ex cluded by the bigots of this colony, but I am willing, if it is desired, to permit my daughters to become Protestants, either of the established Church or the new sect of Baptists, it being quite indifferent to me whether they are of one or the other persuasion, if they are not of the true church. With these conditions, I desire to leave my wife wholly to her own views in every matter, and I will compel all who are around her to yield to her wishes. If Miss Yane has f.ny desire to change her former decision, she has now sja. opportunity, and I need scarcely add that her affirm ative decision will be a source of much satisfaction to my self." Having finished his speech, Mr. Lindon again buried his chin, in a stately way, in his neckcloth, and was silent. Bonnybel did not speak for some moments, and then she merely said, struggling successfully against her anger and indignant scorn, "I am surprised, sir, that you should haye again renewed, tbis proposition, and" MISS JiONNYBEL. 101 He interrupted her more grandly and ceremoniously than ever, and said, with a motion of his hand, "Your surprise is quite natural, Miss Vane. I can under stand that you naturally feared that I would not return, having treated me, upon our last interview, with a coldness which I am sure you have regretted. You are right, madam. Men of my stamp seldom renew a proposition of this descrip tion, and there is room for some astonishment in the pres ent instance. But I have set my mind upon seeing you pre side at my house of ' Agincourt,' and your rebuff has not re pelled me. You, no doubt, regretted it, and I desire to afford you an opportunity of reconsidering your determination." His tone was so insulting with its stately condescension now, that Bonnybel blushed with speechless indignation. Mr. Lindon misunderstood the origin of this emotion, and said, in the same patronizing way, " Do not permit your agitation to carry you away, Miss Vane. I can understand that you did not expect this, and am not desirous of compelling you to declare your regret at our misunderstanding in any formal manner. We are nearly at the portico now, and I beg that you will compose your self. A simple line, as I depart in the morning, will be suf ficient, and if I may suggest, you might fix as early a day as is consistent with social propriety. I shall be very happy to have your cousin, Mr. St. John, as my first groomsman, though he docs not seem well affected toward the govern ment, and may cause me some trouble with his Excellency. I beg to assure you that in any such contingency I shall be most happy to use my influence. We have arrived, madam, and I regret to see you so much overcome with the natural and engaging modesty of your sex. But I beg you will not be flurried. I shall expect your reply when I depart in the morning, and, meanwhile, shall spare your maiden blushes, and not renew the subject." They had reached the portico as Mr. Lindon concluded this oration, and were now joined by Helen and Aunt Mabel, V08 MISS BONNYREL. Bonnnybel left her stately admirer, and hastened up stairs whether to hide her maiden blushes, or burst into tears of scorn, and anger, and indignation, we leave the reader to determine. She did not reappear during the whole evening, and only came down stairs on the next morning when Mr. Linden's fine equipage stood at the door. Her cheeks burnt with indignant fire, and her little foot almost ground itself into the carpet with anger as she murmured, " He shall not think I 'm afraid to meet him 1" She restrained her scorn by a violent effort, however, and when Mr. Lindon invited her into the library, coldly de clined. Her hand held a note tightly, however, and this note Mr. Lindon took with an expression of condescending satisfaction. He bowed ceremoniously, and with his head raised in a conquering attitude, entered his chariot and drove away, holding the reins himself. Bonnybel watched him with the same look of scornful pride, but suddenly this expression gave way to one almost of pleasure. Mr. Lindon turned in his seat almost foaming with rage, and tore a piece of paper which he held in his hand ; after which he shook his clenched fist at the hall, and lashing his wild horses, disappeared like lightning. The torn paper was Bonnybel's note, and this note con tained simply "Miss Vane declines, now and for ever, the insulting ad dresses of Mr. Lindon. If they are renewed, she will re gard it as an outrage unworthy of a gentleman. She prays that all personal acquaintance, even, may henceforth cease between them." That was all. And if any reader thinks our little heroine too fiery, it is because we have not drawn the portrait of her admirer with sufficient force. When Helen took leave of Mr. Alston, a kind look of re- MISS BONNYBLL. 10(1 grut was in her eyes ; when Mr. Lindon departed, Bonny- bel's eyes flashed dangerously. The reason was that Mr. Alston was a gentleman Mr. Lindon was not. But the fact made him all the more dan gerous, as this history will in due time show. CHAPTER XIX BONNTBEL VANE TO HER FRIEND, MISS CATHARINE EFFING- HAM, AT "THE COVE," IN GLOUCESTER COUNTY. YANELT, before breakfast. I desire to be informed why you have not written to me, madam ? Has that odious domestic tyrant, Mr. Willie, forbidden you to correspond with your friends ? You may inform him, with my compliments, that I regard him in the light of a monster, an ogre, an eastern despot, else he would not keep the dearest girl in the world down at that horrid old house in Glo'ster if it is so fine when her friends are dying to see her. I hear that he runs at your call, and obeys your orders, and passes all his leisure moments in composing sonnets to your eyebrows ; but I do n't believe it, that is, I would not if it was not you, dear. He was very humble once when he was on probation, and I '11 never forget his lordship's look of agony and despair when you gave the jessamine bud to Tom Alston that day at the ball ; but heigho ! (that 's the way the romance writers spell a sigh, is n't it ?) I do n't believe any thing of that sort survives the honeymoon does it ? Before we 're married we ''re married ! the beaus are all maccaronies in their dress and manners ; arid they rhyme love and dove, sighs and eyes, kiss and bliss, 'till one 's really weaned with them. Then when the odious hypocrites have worked upon QW failings and entrapped our poor luti? 1 10 MISS BON MY BEL. hearts, they forget how to rhyme, and behave abominably It is my intention to be an old maid, which that outrageous Willie of yours predicts. But I won't ! that 's flat ! I 'II get married just to spite him ! " What a flood of nonsense I 've written ! but I 'm in ex cellent spirits this morning, and I never feel ill at my ease with you, my own precious, darling Kate. It is very good in you to let a mere child like me take so many liberties with you. But you know you 've raised me ; always at Effingham Hall you made me your companion, young as I was ; and, if I had my arms around your neck now, I 'd squeeze you to death ! I would! Please write soon. I long to hear from you, for I love you dearly dearly I and if you do n't write, I '11 come down to the Cove and make you! " There 's little or no news in Prince George ; we have been plagued, as usual, by a crowd of stupid boys, tho' some nice gentlemen came too. I have had another visit from my bugbear, that Mr. Lindon, but I do n't think he ''ll call again in a hurry. He made me the most insulting speech you can think ; but I returned it with interest. You would have thought he was bidding for a slave-girl. I gave him my answer in writing, and he tore it up, and went off in a rage. J [e may rage as he pleases. "Dearest papa has the gout again, but it did not prevent his going to court the other day, and coming back in high indignation about the new Act of Parliament the attack on our liberties. They think they '11 make us slaves, but they are very much mistaken. I 've sealed up all ike tea and I 'd die before I 'd drink a drop ! "We all rode to Mr. Bland 1 s the other day, and found the dear old gentleman home from the Burgesses. His sight is failing, and he wears a green blind, but there's no finer gentleman in the world. He made me a beautiful bow and k.ssed my cheek. There are very few of the rising genera tioi. l.ke papa, or Squire Effingham, or Mr. Bland* * EpstoricaJ Illustrations, No. YIU MISS BONNYBEL. Ill "The d_;y after "o Cawsorts, which s as lovely as ever, and I think I ']! never grow tired looking on the meeting of the two rivers, the white ships and dipping boughs. Frances Randolph is there from Matoax, with the baby, who is al most walking. She is as dark and lovely as ever, and little Johnny is a wonder of beauty. He 's a darling love of a baby, and has a complexion like a lily with the morning sun on it ! There, madam ! what would Mr. Cowley say of that? I think they ought to have called him Bland, too, or Effingham, as I 'm told a lovely girl, named Kate Ef- fingham, or Mistress Catherine Effingham, if your ladyship pleases, stood godmother for him. Simple John Randolph is too short do n't you think so ? When I took the little creature in my arms you know all the babies come at once to me he laughed, and crowed, and clapped his hands, look ing, all the time, curiously at me out of his dark piercing eyes."* Here follows a long description of various scenes at Vanely, the pastoral frolic and other divertisements, of which the reader has heard. The letter ends thus : " Give my love to Mr. Willie, and write soon, my precious Kate. How I love you ! Won't you come soon ? Do, there 's a dear ! Vanely 's looking beautiful with green leaves, and I long to see you, to hear your dear, kind laugh, and kiss you to my heart's content ! Tom Alston said, the other day, that I reminded him frequently of you. I could have run and kissed him, I assure you. " Give oceans of love to everybody, and do n't forget to kiss the baby for me. Good night, now, my own darling Please do n't stop loving your fond " BONNYBEL. " Postscript. Did I mention that his Serene Excellency and Royal Highness, the Honorable Lieutenant Henry St * Historical Illustratiots, No. IX. 112 MISS BONNYBEL, John, Esquire, was here ? He has been good jnough to take notice of his small cousin occasionally, and to ride out with me. On our return from one of these rides, he had the audacity to take me in his arms ! Just to think of his impudence ! but I boxed him soundly ! Of course, 't was in lifting me from the saddle. I fell into the water, coming back from the " Charming Sally," and the lieutenant had the goodness, in putting on my slipper, which I 'd dropped, to squeeze my foot into a jelly ! Just reflect ! 'j squeezi z young lady's foot ! Was n't it dreadful ? He thought him - self mighty fine, I dare say ! Odious fellow ! not that . mean to speak ill of him, however. He 's too wholly indil- ferent to me for me to take the trouble. By the bye, I heard something of his paying his addresses to a young lady from Glo'ster. Is it true ? I ask from idle curiosity only it is nothing to me. " Good night, my own dear Kate. "Your u BONNYBEL." CHAPTER XX. HOW MISS BONNYBEL FAINTED IN THE ARMS OF HEE COUSIN. ALTHOUGH Miss Bonnybel carefully forgot to state the fact, St. John had accompanied them on the visit to Jordan's and Cawson's, riding by the old chariot on his fine " Tally- ho," and adding very much to the zest of the journey by his wit and humor. The young man was now quietly domiciled at Vanely; the fact that he was lieutenant of the Governor's guardt appealing never to cross his mind. He had left his subor. dinate in command, and did not trouble himself further. His whole thoughts were absorbed in the pursuit of the now " cherished object." MISS BONNYBEL, 113 Day by day, thus lingering nt Vanely, he bncame more dangerously enthralled. He constantly found, or thought that he found, in the little maiden, some new and more ex quisite attraction. Nor was this wholly the result of fancy. Since his last visit, Bonnybel had greatly changed, and was changing still. To every maiden comes a time when, opening from bud to blossom, into the perfect flower of womanhood, she stands upon the banks of the fast-flowing stream, and sees, in dreams as it were dreams full of mysterious loveliness an unknown face : and with sighs and smiles, feels in her pulses a new life before undreamed of. Thus was it with the careless little witch of Vanely. St. John, when he came again to the familiar old mansion, saw, in place of a romping child, a beautiful young lady. He had left Bonnybel a girl, and found her, all at once, a woman. The change in her person was even more remark able than in her character. Before, her figure was ungrace fully angular, and many of her movements abrupt and awk ward. Now all this had disappeared. Still slender, her person was yet full and exquisitely rounded ; every motion was gliding and full of grace ; the cheek, once too pale, was now round and blooming like a rose ; the large eyes were brilliant, melting, and full of what the poets have described as " liquid light." In a word, that marvelous change which is so peculiar to the girl just budding into the woman, had come over the young Jady, and with every passing hour the influence deepened, the rosy cheeks grew rosier, the pout ing lips bloomed with a richer carnation, the dangerous eyes increased their fatal brilliancy. Bonnybel possessed that rare and indefinable attraction, which, in all nges, has brought men to the feet of the women endowed with it. With far less beauty of feature, her in fluence would probably nave been nearly as great. Her mobile and ever changing countenance reflected, as from a mirror, the ceaseless play of her thoughts and feelings. She was, by no means, at all times, the wild and coquetish girl, 114 MISS BONNYBEL. fill of mirth and laughter; at certain moments, every trac of gaiety disappeared, and the bright eyes swam in tears, or were fixed upon vacancy with a sad intentness. She sang delightfully. And here again she was finely en dowed. She not only caroled, with the mot,t contagious mirth and wild abandon, the " comic" ditties of the period "Within a Furlong of Edinborough Town," "Pretty Betty Martin, tip-toe fine," and others ; she sang, with a sadness and pathos equally contagious, the songs of sentiment tLen popular " Flowers of the Forest," " Grammachree," " Fare well to Lochaber," and that beautiful ditty which is certainly the pearl of all music, which sounds like the sigh of the au tumn wind through the broom straw, the inexpressibly pa thetic " Katherine Ogie." Of these songs, sung by Bonnybel, our worthy author says They are the sweetest, I think, of all the Scottish rain strelsy. But all are sweet, far more so than the ditties of to-day. They sound for us now with a dim memorial music, those madrigals which were caroled by our grandmothers to the murmur of old ghostly harpsichords, while, standing by the little beauties, our respected grandfathers were cap tivated, and for ever after dreamed of those old tunes, and loved them as the echoes of past happiness and youthful joys, and all that carnival which glitters and darts onward in the rosy dawn of youth. I knew an old gentleman who would often take his book of ancient Scottish songs, and murmur them to himself for hours ; and I 've frequently seen my dear and honored father sit, with wistful smiles, and pensive eyes, recalling, as he listened to his favorite *' Flowers of the Forest," youthful hours, and the little maiden who sang for him, the same song, in the days of silk stockings and hair powder, early in the century. Kind- hearted and true Virginia gentleman, whose hand has so often rested on my head in childhood, may you sleep in peace ! O noble father, gone from us to heaven ! thinking of you now, here in the sunshine, and of what was a rarer, l>urer sunshine your sweet smile the idle words I write MISS BONNYBEL. 115 swim as I gaze on them. I lay clown my pen and muse, ,EL. The stranger paused for a moment, but continued, calmly, " This love became a portion of his life, of his being, of his soul. Before, he had found in the great thoughts of the kings of literature, sufficient food for his mind, and in their grand ideas he had wrapped himself so completely that he lived, as it were, in history, and asked nothing more. But now all was changed ; he no longer dreamed of the pro ress and enlightenment of man ; the happiness and destii^ of mankind was no longer a thought to him. He had found something grander than the fate of the world, a more ab sorbing passion than philanthropy ; he had found a woman's heart to clasp to his own, a heart whose beating made him careless of the past or the future, so that future were spent in her presence, by her side. "I said," continued the stranger, "that this woman loved him. O yes, she loved him ! Rare and wonderful decree of a Deity of love and goodness ! the imperishable treasure of this woman's heart was given solely to himself. To speak of her is idle, words fade and fail me ; 't is enough to say that she was such as he had never seen before, and will never see again no never ! Well, well, sir, I linger ; let me go on with my narrative. The man and the woman were married ; they went far away to the vast solitudes, and there, in the presence of nature and the Creator, they were wholly, com pletely, blissfully happy happy as human beings can seldom be, and never for long, because earth would then be like heaven." These recollections seemed almost to unnerve the stranger, but he suppressed his emotion and continued, " Well, I will not dwell on this further. Let me hurry on. The man and the woman lived a year thus, tranquil and serene, and then the bolt of Heaven fell. God saw fit to take away this woman," said the stranger, hoarsely, "to lead back the m;m to his neglected work. He no longer recognized his mission, for he was happy ; he had forgotten his duty. The Deity decreed that he should come away, $id the means which he u. c ed were the fives of grief and anguish. Well, sir, all this came about as was decreed. blow fell, and the trunk was stripped of its verdure and fresh ness stripped for ever. The hard heart alone remained, and this sufficed for the work. The man came on foot one day to the capital ; he was dusty and worn with fatigue ; he saw flame and breathed agony and despair. He raised his head, and was accosted by a former companion, who harshly up braided him for his inaction, and in words of fire laid before him his future work. There was a great crowd assembled, every heart throbbed with rage and defiance toward En gland ; before he knew it, he was speaking to them by tho red glare of the burning stamps, and from that moment ho comprehended the behest of Providence. He had neglected his mission ; he was led back and thrust into the ranks to do his part. " Well, sir, from that time forth he became what he is, what you see him, a machine of iron, with but one eternal idea burning like fire in his soul. His work was to aid in unfettering the human soul when that is accomplished he will disappear. When I have no longer any work to do, when my aim is accomplished, my memory will kill me, But that will not take place ; I shall fall by the sword, or the cannon ball, or bayonet it matters not and the day which sees me stretched cold and pale upon the battle field, will be the happiest of my life, for on that day I trust to re join my wife !" The stranger paused, and wiped his forehead, which was steaming with cold sweat. By an immense effort he sup pressed the shudder which ran through his frame, and his features subsided gradually into iron calmness. " You may think it strange, sir," he said, coldly, to the young man, who had listened with deep sympathy to this narrative ; " you may think it strange that I have thus un rolled the history of my life, as it were, to a person whom I do not know. But such is the human mind. Philosophy and self control are mighty bulwarks, but at times the crushed Ueurt will writh.e and raoan U'lienth the iron hod 154 MTRS HONNYnr T . are moments when human sympathy is necessary even t<\ my shattered soul, and this feeling has been too much for me to-day. Perhaps I have spoken to unsympathizing ears, but I could not refrain, sir the words have been ul tered." St. John said, with great feeling, " I have listened with respect, sir, and sympathy, and do not, I pray you, believe that your suffering finds an indif ferent listener in myself. If 't were only from curiosity, I must have heard you with attention, for you relate a strange and moving story ! But it is with more than curiosity that I have listened with sympathy and deference, sir ; that deference which is due to a great misfortune." " Thanks, friend," said the stranger, more calmly even than before ; " your face is so loyal and sincere that I scarcely re gret my indiscretion. Well, to finish. From the moment when I saw what my work was, I have been in harness. I have aimed further than protest against parliamentary des potism, I have aimed at perfect independence and a repul: lie." " Ah ! a republic ?" " Nothing less, sir," said the stranger, calmly. " For ten years nearly I have been stirring up this colony to an armed revolt a rebellion." St. John mused with drooping head. " I see that you question the possibility of this movement now," said the stranger, " and I regret that my time wil] not permit me to expand my views of the past. See one thing, however. As you, at this moment, are in advance of thousands of the most intelligent and patriotic thinkers up on government, as you would meet Parliament in arms, and Irish the tyrannical Dunmore from Virginia, so, ten years ago, I was in advance of yourself. In that time I have watched, with attentive eyes, the progress of thought, the i xpansion of men's minds. They approach nearer and nearer to me every hour. I do not boast, sir, for God gave me my eyes and my soul, pointed out my work. What I saw, near 9 f Bath post, 'T is the only paper in the house. " BONNYBEL. " Postscript. Have you heard from the, young lady in Glossier lately ? I 'm desperately anxious to become ac quainted 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'sterl" 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 deposit ing the paper in the breast pocket of his doublet, he went and leaned from the open window, and surveyed the moon lit 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 hnd made his way, with out knowing it, as far as the picturesque " Indian Camp," 184 MISS iJOXNYBEL. CHAPTER XXXII. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE "INDIAN CAMP." THE " Indian Camp" was a wild and secluded retreat, the haunt, in former times, so said tradition, of the great King Povvhatan and his dusky followers. In course of time it had, however, become the resort of those fond of natural beau ties especially the chosen meeting-place of lovers. Many allusions to it may be found in letters of the period. It now lay before the eyes of the young man, clothed in all its wild and mysterious beauty. Seating himself upon a mound of moss-covered rock, he gazed pensively upon the scene, surrendering his thoughts wholly to the woman whom he loved. For an hour he was scarcely aware of the objects around him. The weird moonlight fell from the heights of heaven unheeded. The dazzling orb rode like a ship of pearl through the drifting clouds ; the melancholy whip- poorwill sent his mournful cry from the wood ; the owl whooped from the low grounds; the river breeze came and fanned the dreamer's cheek he was still absorbed in thought. "Yes," murmured the young man, "J '11 go and essay my fate; 'to-morrow, at half past eleven,' shall find me at Vanely, and I '11 put it on the hazard of the die. Is there hazard ? Did I misinterpret her demeanor on that evening at the try sting tree ? Courage ! nee timide, nee temere /" And the murmur died into silence. Another hour passed by, the young man pondered still, gazing at the old shadowj mounds and trenches as they gleamed in the moonlight. Suddenly the light was obscured, and raising his eyes, he saw that a huge cloud, moving slowly like a great black hulk, had invaded the moon, and buried it in its ebon folds. In the darkness the rude objects of the scene loomed out more shadowy and solemn still, and the cry of the whippoor- will assumed a deeper sadness. St. John rose and leaned MISS BONNYBEL. 185 against the trunk of an oak, whose wide coughs cast an im penetrable shade, and thus elevated, as it were, above the scene, listened to the subdued and mysterious sounds of night. All at once to these stealthy noises was added another sound ; he thought at first that his fancy deceived him, but this impression soon disappeared. He heard cautious voices whispering. He bent forward, inclining his ear in the direction of the sound. He was not mistaken in his surmise. As he gazed and listened, holding his breath almost, two dark figurea detached themselves, as it were, from the darkness, and ad vanced toward the spot which he occupied. With an unconscious movement he drew deeper into the shadow of the heavy boughs, and, blended with the shade which they cast, was lost completely to view. The figures passed so close to him that their garments al most touched his own, still whispering in a low and stealthy tone. They had gone but a few paces when the obscuring cloud passed from the moon, and St. John discerned them clearly. The first figure was very tall, the other shorter, and wrapped from head to foot in a long cloak, upon whose collar drooped the folds of what seemed a Spanish hat, com pletely concealing the face. The taller of the two wore no wrapping, and Mr. St. John distinctly recognized the form of Lindon. He bent earnestly toward his companion, and seemed to be urging something which had been met with opposition. Mr. St. John could not catch the words, which were uttered in a low and cau tious, though very excited tone, and he was glad that they did not reach him ; glad when the voice grew more and more a mere murmur, and Lindon, with his silent com panion, disappeared in the iistance and the darkness. Their footfalls, growing fainter and fainter, were finally absorbed by the silence. St. John stood for an instant looking in the direction they had taken, and then, issuing forth from the ehadow, calmly bent his way back to Willi.-imsburg. 180 MISS BONNV3KL. " That is really something more than I bargained foi^ he muttered as he went along. " I came to enjoy my own thoughts in silence, and alone, and here I stumble on this man and one of his companions. They say that Linden and his Excellency have exchanged many civilities, and my head to half a crown 1 that man is engaged in the plots against the liberties of Virginia !" " Well," continued the young man, after a pause, during which he looked thoughtfully towai-d the lights of the town, which were, one by one, disappearing, like fire-flies going to sLeep, " well, let this gentleman of the villainous counte nance go on his way. He is nothing to me, and I do n't fear that he will do us any injury. He plots and walks in darkness as his congenial element, but there are others who conspire against the conspirator I" With these words St. John returned to his chamber, and after a last look at the moon, fell asleep murmuring the motto of Bonnybel's seal, " Nee temere, nee timide /" He had a strange dream. He fancied himself again at the Indian Camp, with the mysterious figures of Lindon and hia companion before him. They disappeared, but suddenly came upon him again, before he was aware, behind his back. He saw Linden's face convulsed with a smile of triumphant hate, as he placed a dagger in the hand of his companion, with which the cloaked figure struck at the young man's back. He started from sleep, and half sprung from bed, but laughing at his fears, soon fell asleep again, his slumber re maining uninterrupted until morning. Do dreams ever forewarn ? Had Mr. St. John believed so, and acted upon his convictions, the whole current of this narrative would have been changed. At seven o'clock upon the following morning, he was pur suing, at full speed, the road to Vanely. MISS BONNYBEL. ]f CHAPTER XXXIII. A SLEEPING BEAUTY. THE young man rode so well that before the hour indi cated in Bonnybel's letter, he entered the great gate of Vanely, and cantered to the door. No servant was visible, and securing his horse to the rack beneath one of the great oaks, he entered the mansion. He opened the door of the library expecting to see Colonel Vane ; his hand was extended to greet the old gentleman, but suddenly he paused. In the great leather chair by the table, covered with books and papers, Miss Bonnybel, overcome, apparently, by the balmy influence of the May morning, was slumbering trah- juilly. Upon her lap rested an open volume, which seemed to have escaped from her hand as she fell asleep, for one ol the slender fingers remained between the leaves. St. John paused for a moment to take in fully the entire details of the pretty picture. The great chair had a sloping back, and thus the young lady's position was almost that of one reclining. The grace ful head was languidly thrown back, and drooped side- wise towards the rounded shoulder. Her hair had become unbound and lay in brown masses of curls upon her neck. Her small feet, with higkh-heeled slippers, decorated with rich rosettes, reposed upon a velvet-cushioned cricket, and the little pointed toes, over which fell the ribbons of the artificial roses, peeped out gracefully from their hiding place. The young man remained for some time silent and mo tionless, watching the sleeper. Not a trait of the picture escaped his brilliant and penetrating glance. His laugh ing eye riveted itself upon every detail on the forehead Ivtthod in the dews of sluinber, the dusky lashes lying 188 MISS BONNYBEL. on the rosy c.ieeks, the glossy curls, which rose and fell with the tranquil breathing of the maiden. He smiled as his gaze dwelt upon the little slippers, so prettily arranged even in sleep ; on the hand, glittering with a single diamond which hung languidly over one arm of the chair ; upon the taper ing arms, the countenance filled with maiden sweetness, and the fawn-colored dress, falling in ample folds around the wearer's graceful figure. We doubt if even the most violent advocates of propriety will blame him, when he cautiously approached, and bend ing down, took the disengaged hand and kissed it in a cous inly way. But Miss Bonnybel did not awake. He looked at the volume lying on her lap. It was the book of ballads which he had been reading to her on the morning when Lindon interrupted them, and she had opened at the particular poem they had read together. A slight color came to the young man's cheek. Let us pardon him he was in love. He hesitated what course to pursue, but, all at once, this hesitation disappeared. His glance fell, with an audacious smile, upon the coquettish feet, and he had fixed on his scheme. This scheme was simply to remove the rosettes, which were secured by small silver buckles, from the shoes, to go into the hall and make some noise which should arouse Miss Bonnybel, and then to enjoy, from his hiding place, the young lady's surprise and confusion. He carefully set about his undertaking, and became so absorbed in it that he did not see the maiden's head rise with a sudden movement, her eyes open, and fix themselves upon him. He raised his head, however, to see if the sleeper was undisturbed, and Miss Bonnybel closed her eyes, and drew a long, labored breath smiling, it seemed, in her sleep ! The young man's smile replied to it, and having de Inched one of the rosettes, he set about securing the other. Then it was that he heard suddenly the calm and satiri cal words, MISS BONNYBKL. 189 " Do n't you think that will do, sir ? I should su| pose that one was enough !" Thus caught in the act, Mr. Harry St. John remained for a moment dumbfoundered. But recovering his equanimity, he said, laughing, " Did you compose yourself in that pretty attitude to re ceive me, Bonnybel ?" " Humph ! and you suppose I would take the trouble !" " You said you 'd put on your best gown and ruffles." " I was speaking satirically, sir ! I suppose your vanity will not believe it but, pray, what are you doing to my feet ?" " I was only taking off your rosettes. I should like to ex- amine them ; they 're very pretty !" "I suspect you intended some trick! I know it, sir I But enough ! You '11 please let them alone !" And Miss Bonnybel withdrew her feet, vivaciously, from sight. " I feel profound remorse for my presumption," said Mr. St. John, in a contrite tone ; " let me atone for my offense, most beautiful lady. The culprit can only make restitution though your feet are dangerous things to approach ! Hold them out !" Bonnybel hesitated, glancing doubtfully at him. But the young lady had lovely feet, and her obduracy yielded to her vanity. She thrust out the extreme point of the slip per deprived of its rosette, and Mr. St. John secured the or nament in its place. He was so long doing so, however, that the young lady tapped her foot impatiently, and then the wide folds of her dress swept over foot and slipper. " You see," said her companion, " I 've come in obedience to your command. Where 's uncle ?" " They all went over to Maycock's," returned the young lady. "Heigho! I've had -such a dull time reading that love-sick ballad. It put me to sleep." And she yawned. " How 1 should like to take a ride," she added. 190 MISS BONNYBEL. " Would you ? Then I '11 go order your horse. Mine 'a at the door. Where shall we go ?" " Anywhere ; say to ' Flower of Hundreds.' " " My old rattletrap ? Well, so be it." And the young man went and ordered Miss Bonnybel's horse. They were soon galloping over the fields and through the forest, exchanging a hundred jests, and an hour's ride brought them to their destination. " Flower of Hundreds," Mr. St. John's mansion, stood on an elevated plateau, near the river. Instead of a " rattle trap," it was a fine old country house, with a score of apart ments, stables sufficient to accommodate a hundred horses, and a servant for every pane in every window. They entered the fine old grounds, and the gray-haired African, left as major domo, by his master, came and greeted them with dignity and respect. Half a dozen negro boya ran to take their horses, and leaning lightly on the arm of her cavalier, Miss Bonnybel held up her long skirt, and en tered. Along the walls of the old antler-decorated hall hung the St. Johns, male and female, of a dozen generations. A num ber of fox-hounds rose to welcome the visitors, but, neglect ing the young lady, bestowed their entire caresses upon the young man. " See the small discrimination of the canine species," said St. John, " they neglect ' Beauty' for the notice of the Beast.' " "I always distrust your mock humility, and especially your compliments ; the dogs like you because they 've had no body else to like ; you 're a miserable old bachelor !" " So I am, but how can I help that ?" " Hnmph ! very easily. That is to say, sir, you can try!" And Miss Bonnybel gave her cousin an audacious glance, shot over her right shoulder, and full of coquettish auda city. MISS BONNYBEL. 191 "What 's the use of trying ?" he said. " 'T is very easy to get married, but difficult to get the girl one wants." "And she is to marry your lordship without being asked, I suppose ! That 's very reasonable indeed !" St. John looked steadily at his companion, to discover if the words meant more than was expressed. But she darted from him, and ran into the great sitting-room. " O I there 's my favorite portrait," she cried ; " the pic ture of Sir Arthur St. John, is n't it, of the time of his Majesty Charles II., who died for love? What a noble face, with its pointed beard, and long, gay curling ' love locks !' ' " 'T is handsome indeed, but do you admire him for dying of love ?"' " Yes to distraction ! I wish he 'd courted me ! He 'd never have died !" " Pity you did n't live in his Majesty's times," said St. John, with a glance of admiration ; "the Arthurs have all gone, and our hair to-day is cut close. You might marry a gentleman of the St. Johns somewhere, but he'd be apt to look far less romantic." It was Miss Bonnybel's turn to dart a look of curiosity at her cousin now, but she read nothing in his face. With a sudden laugh, the conversation was turned by the young lady, and then they ran all over the old mansion, pry ing into every nook, and laughing at every thing. An hour passed thus, and then they remounted and re turned to Vanely, where they found the ladies of the family and the colonel. St. John related the scene at the Governor's, with many amusing exaggerations, but he was glad at last to steal away into a corner with Bonnybel, who drew him toward her with laughing glances. Thus passed several days, and, with every passing hour, the dazzling loveliness of Miss Bonnybel increased in her lover's eyes, and he found his resolution failing him. In their rides and walks, the damsel said a hundred care- 192 MISS ]:OXNYBEr.. less things which made Ins pulse throb, and her dangeroul eyes gave meaning to her mischief. Who can paint sucli a compound, as she was, of audacity and reserve, of feeling and mirth ? who could place, in cold words, the light, and fire, and attraction of her brilliant eyes ? The present chronicler is unequal to the task. He sees her smiles and coquetries, her pouts and blushes; lie hears her laughter and her sighs, but he can not describe them. Of what those days of constant meeting resulted in, he can tell with ease, however. But even this trouble is spared him. By good fortune, he has a letter from St. John to hia friend Mr. Alston, and this will tell the tale. CHAPTER XXXIV. ST. JOHN, PEOM HIS HOUSE OF " FLOWEB OF HUNDREDS," TO HIS FBIEND, TOM ALSTON, AT " MOOKEFIELD." "FLOWER OP HUNDREDS, May 22, 1774. "WELL, Tom, I 've got my quietus. You 've the pleasure cf hearing from a young gentleman who 's just been dis carded ! " Do you start, my dear friend ? Does the event seem so very tremendous and unexpected ? I 'm sorry to shock your feelings, and would not do it for the world, could I avoid it, but the fact is as I 've stated. " I do not take the event with your equanimity ; I am sufficiently miserable even to satisfy the vanity of the young lady who has thought it decorous to give me many reasons to believe that she returned my affection, and then to inform me that she can't be my wife. You see I 'm angry, as well as unhappy. I do n't deny it, and I think I 've some reason. " I went to Vanely on Saturday, and we rode hither, where we spent an hour, and then returned ; on Sunday . 193 you remember, we met at church, and on Monday but I 'm prosing with a detail of my movements. I meant to say that on the visit here, in all of our rides, and interviews, and conversations, I was fond enough to imagine than I saw some indications of real love on Bonnybel's part. She de clared that I would find no difficulty in marrying, that faint heart never won fair lady, upbraided me for not speaking, s if maidens could propose themselves, and in a thousand different ways, led me to believe that she loved me, and Was willing to marry me. " On these hints I spoke ; it was one evening at the tryst- Ing tree, the old oak at the end of the lawn, you know, and I made myself clearly understood. You know that, much as I may love a woman, I 'm not the man to kneel at he feet, and wipe my eyes, and whine out, 'please love me!' On the contrary, I told Miss Bonnybel simply that I loved her truly, and asked her to marry me. " You should have seen her look when I spoke thus. She became crimson, and was silent for a time. Then but hang it, Tom ! I can't fill the chair of the historian. She dis carded me that 's all. She had the greatest affection for me, 't was true, she said, but she was over young to m'arry yet ; she 'd not made up her mind it was unfair in me to thus make her feel pain she would always love me as her deai- cousin and playmate then she raised her white hand kerchief to her eyes, and begged me to reconduct her to the house. " I did so in silence, and then discovered that I had im portant business here. That's -all. " Well ! I '11 neither cut my throat, nor sit down and weep, nor, worst of all, go crouching back to her, like a dog ! Henceforth I forswear the sex. A bachelor's life for me, my boy. Come, take a main at tric-trac with me, and help me to find the bottom of a cask of Bordeaux 01 Jamaica. I 'm moping, you see, and want company. " Your friend, "HABBT ST. Joinr,* 1 194 .MISS BOXNYBEL. CHAPTER XXXV. THE REPLY. "MOOBEFIELD, May 23, 1774. " YOUB letter really astonished me, my dear boy it did, upon my word. You will permit me to observe that you are really the most unreasonable and exacting of all the lovers that I 've read of, from the time of Achilles to the present hour. " And so, when you pointed your gun at the tree, the bird did not flutter down and light on your shoulder ! Or eay that you banged away, my boy, do you expect such a wild little thing as Miss Bonnybel to sit and be shot at by you? You discharge your fowling piece, and before the smoke 's cleared away, walk tranquilly up to pick up the game ; you find that your aim was bad, and there *s no bird on the ground, and you scowl, and growl, and complain of her for not falling ! " * My son,' I would say to you, as I 'm told the great King Solomon did on one occasion, ' listen to the words of the wise ; wisdom is the principal thing,' he adds, ' therefore get wisdom, and with all thy getting, get understanding.' " Curious and complex, my beloved friend, is the heart of woman. Many philosophers have written concerning them, but they are hard to understand. But one thing I am sure of, that the young ladies of the province of Vir ginia object to falling without due warning subsiding, hys terically, into the embrace of any young man who is good enough to hold out his arms. And you will pardon my de elating my opinion that it is reasonable ; were I a woman, as that engaging young lady, Miss Tracy, says I am already, I 'd demand a siege of a decade ! 'T is true I should be verging toward forty by that time, but I 'd possess the in estimable satisfaction of reflecting that I 'd passed my life in worrying a young man. "?You dissent, perhaps, from my views, but, honestly now BONNYBKL. 195 fio you tln'nk you gave Miss Bonnybel 'sufficient notice' of the intended movement in your ' suit ?' 'Tis a charming damsel (though of course much less so than a certain per- son], and I fancy she resents your cavalier assault, your fe rocious charge, as though your banner were inscribed, ' Mar riage or instant death ! ! !' And then you go on to complait of her bright eyes, of her chance-uttered words and jests Really, my dear Harry, you are a perfect ogre. You can't let a maiden display her liking, and smile, and look attract ive, and please you ! Suppose all the world was of yout way of thinking ! What a dull, stiff, artificial world it would be. Just think, my dear fellow, of the awful result. No laughter, no ogling, no flirting any more ! The true joy of our existence would disappear, the girls would be lifeless statues. You may fancy a statue of marble for yom spouse, but I 'd rather have a nice young woman of the real world, with her dangerous smiles, and head bent sidewise ! Do you say that a friend of mine at Vanely is not such as this? I can only reply that my tastes were not formed when I met her. I adore her, 't is true, out logically speak ing, I 'm wrong. " Take my word for it, some day, your bird will descend ; shake the tree, and tho fiuv will fall. Imitate an unappre ciated friend of yourS;, *bd still continue the shaking.* "As to misery and Doping, and anger, and all that, 't is natural but very irrational ; 't is unpleasant, and does no good. Go back to Vanely and renew your attack love the damsel so much that her pride may be flattered. My friend, there is nothing like perseverance. Go court your inamo rata more ardently than ever, and if, meanwhile, you do n't meet a girl you love more, I '11 lay you ten to one that you get her ! " These few words, Harry my boy, must suffice. I can't come to see you ; I am busy at home. But we '11 meet at the assembly, in town. You say that the young lady put * On the margin, we find in his, St. John's, hand-writing : "If I do, I'll be hanged. I '11 tie myself to no woman's apron-string I' 196 MISS BONNYBEL, her handkerchief to her eyes ; well I predict that those eyes will shine brightly when they next rest on you. 'T is always thus u hen the April shower is over. " Your friend Heaven grant, your brother "ToM ALSTON." "P. S. Get wisdom." CHAPTER XXXVI. BLOSSOM. THE views of his friend had little effect upon St. John. It was not his pride which was so deeply wounded ; it was his heart. His letter was one of those tissues of self-deception, which are woven to blind their eyes by the most clear seeing. He loved the girl more than ever when he found her beyond his reach, and his faint flush of anger gave way to misery. It was not long, however, before this sentiment also yield ed. The first pangs of his disappointment gradually became less poignant. He coolly set about seeing to his neglected affairs on the estate, and having attended to every thing, and wound up the machine, cast about him for some occu pation to divert his thoughts. " I '11 go to town," he said, with a sardonic smile ; "I '11 go give his Excellency a chance to arrest me ! What an admirable scene will be enacted if he tries it ; perhaps the cause will be affected by my act, and historians will put my name in their books !" The real object of the young man was to divert his mind from thought, and he had no sooner conceived his plan than he proceeded to execute it. Mounting " Tallyho," he rode to the nearest ferry, crossed the river, and approached the capital as the sun was set ting, He went along carelessly through the forest illumined HISS BONNYBEL. 197 by the orange light, and with eyes fixed on the ground, gave free rein to his thoughts. He did not observe that his horse had taken a wrong turn in the road, and was aroused from his abstraction suddenly by a voice. This voice, which seemed that of a child, said, " Won't you stop a minute, sir ? I 'm very glad to see you !" In the little maiden who spoke, he recognized Blossom, and she stood at the gate of the small cottage, which smiled on him, embowered in foliage and flowers. " Will I stop ? Why with pleasure, my little spring blos som ;" replied the young man, pleased with the fair face; "I am not the least in a hurry, and I am glad to see you in turn." With these words he dismounted, and securing Tallyho, shook hands with Blossom, and followed her to the trellised porch. " My dear, you are the very image of your namesakes," he said, caressing the child's hair; "where did you get such roses?" Blossom took a cluster of buds from her bosom, and said " They are from the flower-bed yonder, sir." St. John smiled. "I mean the roses in your cheeks, my dear; they are prettier than the others." " Oh it 's nothing but running about playing," said Blos som, blushing, " I run sometimes as far as town, sir, yon know as I did that day " "When my horse nearly killed you yes," said St. John ; " well he '11 never do so any more. I saw our friend, the Governor, the other day, and I 'm happy to say for the last time as his servant." " Oh ! I hope you did not quarrel, sir ! he 's a dreadful man 1" " Quarrel ?" said St. John, with his sardonic smile, " what out (such a thought in your head ? Why his Excellency and 198 MISS liONNYBEL, myself fairly dote upon each other, and the room was full of the first gentlemen of the colony, invited to attend and meet me ! His lordship talked more with me than with any one else, and when I went away, called a soldier to escort me!" Plaving made this elaborate jest, St. John smiled on Blos som. " Oh ! I 'm very, very glad that you did n't quarrel !" she said, "he 's so fierce looking, and spoke so cruelly of papa." " Of your father ? Oh yes, I remember where is he, Blossom ? " I do n't know, sir." "Ah?" " I never know where papa goes, sir," she said, simply, " I believe he has a great deal to do." As she spoke horse's feet were heard, and Blossom jumped up crying, " Oh there he is, sir !" At the same moment a gentleman entered the gate. In the father of the child whom he had so nearly crushed beneath the hoofs of his horse, St. John recognized the stranger of the old church at Richmond. CHAPTER XXXVII. THK WOOF OF EVENTS. THE stranger was clad in black, as formerly, and his face wore the sane expression of iron calmness. His penetrat ing eyes were full of collected strength, and when he greet ed St. John in his deep and resounding voice, the young man felt again that he was in the presence of a remarkable individual. "I am glad to see you again, Mr. St. John," said the stranger, with an iron-like grasp of the slender white hand. MISS BONNYBKL. 199 " I believe I need not introduce myself as my child has told you my name." " Yes, Mr. Waters," returned St. John, " and we can not meet as strangers. 'T is true, I come ill recommended, since my horse nearly killed your child." The stranger made a movement with his hand. " Do not speak of that," he said, " 't was no fault of yours. The real offender was Dunmore, and I congratulate you on leaving his service." " You have heard, then, of my resignation ?" " Assuredly. I have even heard every particular of the interview at the palace. I knew all, half an hour after it occurred." " Pray how was that possible ?" " In the simplest way the society I represent has friends everywhere." " You seem to know every thing. Did you recognize me yonder in the old church of Richmond ?" " Undoubtedly, sir ; how could I fail to ? You have been for some time a public character, and I knew perfectly your opinions before I spoke. If in what I said, I was carried away by a rush of bitter memories into egotism, you will not think harshly of it, and will pardon me will you not, sir?" There was so much simplicity and nobility in the air of the speaker that St. John, unconsciously, held out his hand. " You did me an honor, sir," he said, " in confiding you; misfortunes to me. I trust we shall be friends." " We are such already, I am sure," said his companion ; 44 your words in the old church yonder stirred my pulses, and your reply to the insults of Dunmore, in his palace, was the reply of a fearless patriot and gentleman." St. John bowed low. " Thanks !" he said, " but I merely defended myself. Was any action taken in regard to my humble self?" *' None. Dunmore and Captain Foy had more critical business. Do you know what they were sr, who added with a grave inclination, as he leaned i^ainst a pillar, and thoughtfully surveyed the crowd, " We are punctual to our appointment, Mr. St. John ; 1 have been awaiting you, however, as the Burgesses are awaiting the Governor." St. John pressed the extended hand, and said, "I should like to look at the House. Will we have time before the Governor arrives ?" " He will not come for twenty minutes." "Well then let us go into the gallery, and you shall point out to me some of the leaders." " Willingly." And in a moment they were in the gallery of the Bur- The speaker sat opposite in a tall chair, clearly relieved against a red curtain, held aioft by an ornamental rod.* Beneath, sat the clerk of tiie House, behind his table littered with bills; before him on the table lay the great mace, which signified that the body was in full session. When they sat in Committee of the Whole, it was laid under the table. The members were scattered throughout the hall, talking earnestly in groups, and scarcely heeding the hammer and cry of " Order, gentlemen !" " Strange to say I have not before visited the present House," said St. John ; " 't is my loss, for they have a most imposing air." " It is the reflex of their mental characteristics," said the stranger. " The body before you, friend, contains the great leaders of Virginia the burning and shining lights of t37 The ladies, however the countess and her daughters seem unaflectedly pleased. Innumerable presentations com mence then, and these are succeeded by a minuet, in which the countess is led forth by Mr. Randolph, of the council. The festivities of the evening are thus formally inaugu rated, and thenceforth the assembly commences in earnest Quadrilles, contra-dances, minuets succeed each other ; the joy and mirth of the ball begins to culminate. The apart ment trembles and quakes with the flood of voices, the floors jar with the feet of the dancers as they move, as they move to the loud music, which rejoices and triumph* in its sway over gallants and dames. CHAPTER XLV. THE RIVAL LIEUTENANTS OF THE GUARDS. " ARK you angry with me, cousin ?" St. John, who was talking with his friend, Mr. Hamilton, felt a hand on his arm from behind. He started, and turn ing, saw Bonnybel leaning on the arm of a gentleman. There was a color in her cheeks, and something like a pout upon her lips, but the eyes of the young lady were very sad as she gazed at St. John. " Angry ?" he said recovering from his momentary sur prise ; " by no means ; why should you think so ?" " Because you 've scarce saluted me. and not asked me to dance." And Miss Bonnybel pouted again. " I am not very gay this evening," replied the young man. " I spare your feelings, for I should doubtless weary you." " You are very cold !" she murmured, in a tone which ho alone caught, "you look at me as though I were the m ( >i iu liifereut person in the world to you." '2.'58 MISS BONNYBEL. And the large sad eyes dwelt ponsively upon his counteb ance. His pulse throbbed, but that was all. He did not speak. " You forget that long ago, you engnged ray hand for 3 minuet," she continued, coloring, " but, doubtless, you hav not thought of me or the engagement." " On the contrary, I was coming to claim your iiand fot the next. Will you dance with me ?" " Yes," she said. The embarrassing conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Liudon, who, in his splendid uniform of lieutenant of the guards, came and saluted, profoundly, the young lady. " May I have the honor of dancing the next minuet with you, madame ?" he said. "I have just engaged myself to my cousin, Mr. St. John, sir," she replied, coldly. The two men looked at each other with that expression which indicates concealed hostility, and bowed low. "Then I trust I may have the pleasure of presenting Miss Vane to the countess and his Excellency," continued Lin- don. " Pray excuse me, sir. I propose going up with my fa ther." Linden's head rose proudly. " I am unfortunate in my requests," he said, " but at least I may hope to secure Miss Vane's hand for the next qua drille." " I am engaged, sir." " For the next, then." " It is very fatiguing." Lindon's face colored with anger, and with a haughty toss of the head, he said, " I regret that Miss Vane should regard me with personal dislike." " I am sorry I nave offended you, sir ; it gives me nc pleasure to wound any one's feelings." MISS BONNYBEL. 2( 8 " Miss Vane's theory and practice slightly differ." St. John had been chafing for some n^oments at Lindon'* tone. He now raised his finger, coldly, and said, " You must be aware, sir, that this conversation is dis agreeable to Miss Vane. I insist on its terminating at once." The flush of anger deepened upon Lindon's face, and he was about to reply, when the musicians struck up a minuet. Bonnybel hastily took her cousin's arm, and led him to the dance. In all their movements they were followed by the glittering and sinister eyes of Lindon, and the expression of his face indicated profound rage. But this rage AVES destined to be further increased. As the minuet ended, a sudden burst of laughter, at the door of the apartment, attracted the attention of every one, and all eyes were turned upon Lindon. " Pray what 's the jest yonder, Captain Waters ?" said St. John to 'that gentleman who stood near ; " something seems to amuse the company." " Ah, farceur /" cried the captain, twirling his huge mus tache, and making a low salute to Bonnybel, " do you deny that you are the originator of this comedy this excellent- admirable comedy ?" " Comedy ?" " Farce ! harlequinade ! what you please !" cried the cap tain, laughing, " and see if my opinion is not that of all !" As he spoke, all eyes were turned upon St. John. The young man's brows contracted, and desiring that Bonnybel might not share this strange publicity, he surrendered her to the protection of the other. " Right ! right !" said the captain, shaking with laughter '* search ! investigate ! find out, ny dear fellow !" " I certainly shall." And pushing through the crowd, St. John gained the door of the apartment. He stopped suddenly. In the door of the ball room, with the serene air of one who considers himself worth looking at, stood St. John's? 240 MISS BONNYBEL. bervant, Julius. The negro wore a uniform exactly similiaT to Mr. Linden's. It had been tossed to him scornfully by nis master, after the scene at the palace, and Jnlius now donned it for the purpose of shining in the eyes of his fellow servants. Attracted to the door of the ball-room by his natural love for sight-seeing, Julius had been seen by the company, and as neither Mr. Lindon nor the guards were very popular, the sight had been greeted with uproarious laughter. St. John could not repress a grim smile at the superb at titude of Julius, but this instantly gave way to displeasure. He advanced with a gathering frown, and the first intima tion which the sable gentleman had of the presence of his master, was the vigorous application of the flat of a dress sword to his shoulders. " Go and take off that suit this instant, rascal !" said St, John. " Go !" Julius disappeared. He did not utter a word, or walk, or fun, he vanished, amid a peal of laughter. St. John immediately sought with his eye for Mr. Lin don ; his intention being to make that gentleman an expla nation and apology. He saw his rival glaring at him with a face pale with rage, but the crowd separated them. St. John was borne to the side of Lord Dunmore. "Pray, what was the occasion of that laughter?" bis lordship was saying to a gentleman near at hand. " A strange specta^ 1 _, my lord," was the reply ; " 't was a negro clad precisely like the lieutenant of the guards, in a laced uniform, with epaulettes." "Are you jesting, sir?" cried Dunmore, with flashing eyes; "the costume of Mr. Lindon ?" " Precisely, my lord." Dunmore's face flushed with wrath, and the black vein swelled. " Whence this impudent outrage ?" he cried ; " answer me, gentlemen ! Who will explain this base insult to my self and my authority ?" MISS BONNYBEL. 241 "I will, my lord," said St. John, approaching and bow ing. " I regret to say that I am the cause of the out 4 rage." " Ah you ! you, Mr. St. John !" cried the Governor, glaring on the young man, almost speechless with rage ; ''you again cross my path !" ' ; My lord, I did not come to be insulted, but to explain, If you permit me, I can do so very briefly." And seeing that the Governor's wrath was too great for him to speak, he added : " The explanation is simple. Having resigned my com mission in your lordship's service, I had no further use for my uniform, and my servant fell heir to it, in common with all others which I decide to wear no longer. He has donned the suit to-night, from a childish desire, no doubt, to excite admiration. I need scarcely say that his intention was un known to me, and to-morrow I shall punish him. I am sorry that I even seem to have any agency in so stupid and ill- bred a jest, and shah 1 explain to Mr. Lindon, and entreat his pardon." The young man bowed low as he ended, and left Lord Dunmore as he uttered a hoarse growl of anger. At the same moment, supper was announced, and this im portant event proved a complete diversion to the company from the enjoyment of the farce. But it continued to be food for laughter long afterward. CHAPTER XLVI. THE SECRETARY. FOR a time, nothing was now heard but the rattle of plates and glasses, the crying of toasts, the buzz and laugh ter, which accompanied the process of doing honor to the profuse suoper. 242 MISS JlONNYBEL, Then the ladies were conducted back to the ball-room, the music recomnenced, and the assembly, interrupted only for the moment, went on its way again in triumph. In those times, a company did not separate because so slight a cir "umstance as the sounding of midnight occurred, and the dancing began moi'e gayly than ever. St. John was standing listlessly looking on, when Captain Waters drew his arm into his own, and suggested the pro priety of a glass or a dozen of Canary. "The fact is," said the captain, as they went toward the supper room, " my wife 's not here, and I feel like a jolly bachelor. To let you into a secret, my dear St. John, Madam Henriette 's a terrible personage, and makes me be have myself. But who goes yonder ?" " " Where ? "There ! Why it 's Foy ! Good evening, comrade !" And the captain made a sign to the secretary, who, pnle and calm as usual, was gliding among the revelers. He stopped, and returned the greeting of the soldier with calm courtesy. " Why, I 'm delighted to see you," said the captain ; "labors over for the day?" " My labors, captair. ? Good evening, Mr. St. John." St. John bowed courteously. " Yes, your writing," said the soldier ; " it must be terri bly trying, this thing of copying all the Governor's procla oaations." The secretary's keen eye rested steadily for a moment upon the face of his interlocutor, and then was withdrawn. " My work is indeed sometimes very exhausting, sir," he said. '* See there !" cried the captain, with an innocent air ; "I said so !" " You said, captain ?" " Why, that this civil life was terribly wearisome ! M The secretary inclined his head. " And to think that you would n't believe me, my deai vrs3 BOXNYfcEL. 243 Foy, when I told you that our old adventures were far more attractive and amusing !" O " They were truly very enticing to young men, ag we then were." " Reinfels and all, comrade !" " Ah ! that was a misfortune, sir," said Foy, courteously " A misfortune ! morbleu, comrade, 't was no such thing. It was a splendid adventure, and you rose, in my opinion, immensely after that scene. I repeat, my dear Foy, that I positively adored you for that blow !" The secretary again made his deprecating wave of the hand. " Come ! no disclaimers ! no modest expression, as of a young lady, who says, sweetly, ' You take me very much by surprise, sir really la !' I say, comrade, 't was a great blow, this coup of Reinfels, as I call it ! Do n't deny it !" " You are very flattering, captain." " Not at all, comrade ; I 'in merely just. And now mark my words are you listening ?" " Yes, Captain Waters." " Well, my dear Foy, in future treatises upon swordsman ship, after the author has described every imaginable lunge, in carte, in tierce, in guard, semicircle, octave, and flango- net after all this, he will write, 'To these must be added the coup used by Captain Foy, in his duel with Captain Waters at Reinfels, and known as the Coup de Reinfels!'' You see, comrade, 't is really indescribable." " Upon my word, Captain Waters, you overwhelm me." "No, 't is the truth, and now confess that 't was better to be fighting over there, with the jolliest comrades to look on, morbleu, than to be driving a quill here, under the nose of his Excellency, with such rascally spectators as this Conolly and others!" The secretary's eye flashed, and his piercing look tried to plunge beneath the captain's laughing face and divine his thoughts. But the soldier preserved the most innocent air, gazing at Foy with tire utino.it simplicity and good humor 244 MISS BONNYBEt. The secretary suddenly turned away, and etired as it were, inlo himself. "I have seen Major Conolly at the palace, it is true. Cap tain Waters," he said, calmly, " but I have not the honor of his friendship." "A back-woodsman, is he not ?" " I do not know, sir." " From Pennsylvania ?" 4< I really regret my inability to deliver any thing, with certainty, upon the subject, Captain Waters ; and now, with your permission, I will first see his Excellency a moment, and then retire, as I need rest." " A moment !" said the captain ; " did you deliver my message ?" " Your message, sir ?" "To his Excellency, my dear Foy, about the Burgesses, you know. I experienced a sentiment of real pride, yes terday, when they were turned out of the capitol, for you will remember that I requested you to suggest that idea to his Excellency !" Under this persevering banter, the calm secretary's pale countenance did not move. " Your suggestion escaped my memory, sir," he said. " Ah ! then 't was not on my account his Excellency dis missed the youngsters ?" " No, sir." " Well, my dear Foy, you are not my friend, and as I have not had even the least adventure or fight with his Ex cellency's handsome guards, commanded by that broad- ghouldered Mr. Lindon, I 'm in a furious bad humor. A soldier, though, should not be discouraged. We may yet have a little encounter who knows ?" " All things are possible, Captain Waters," said the secre tary, calmly ; " now I must leave you, sir." And with the same impassive air, the pale gentleman in clined his head, and disappeared in the crowd. " Go on, snake ! go on, conspirator !" said the captain, 3VIISS looking after him as he was lost in the brilliant undulation? of the excited and uproarious crowd ; *' I '11 yet cross youi sword, and show you something better than the coup dt Rein f els ! Come, my dear St. John, let 's get a cnp of Canary. Talking with that fellow makes me choke, mor- bleu /" And they entered the supper room. CHAPTER XLVIL BT. JOHN AND LINDON. ST. JOHN had not advanced five steps beyond the thresh old of the door, when he met Lindon face to face. The eyes of that gentleman were fixed upon him with aa expression of rage and menace which fairly made them blaze. Lindon seemed to hesitate between two courses to throw into Mr. St. John's face the glass of wine which he held in his hand, or publicly strike and outrage him. A glance at the cold and resolute countenance of the young man, however, seemed to deter him from pursuing either of these courses, and instead, he advanced two steps, and made a low and exaggerated bow. " I have been looking for you, sir," he said, " I am glad that at last I have found you." " Looking for me ?" said St. John, with cold politeness. "Yes, sirl" " Pray for what purpose, if I may venture to ask ?" Lindon looked around, and seeing that the crowd were completely absorbed in drinking healths and dispatching the viands, advanced another pace toward St. John, and said, "I was looking for you in order to join me in making iome arrangements, sir." 246 MISS HONNYBEL, " Arrangements V" said St. John ; " pray expiain yourself, Mr. Lindon " " You do not understand?" " I am very stupid this evening, and must beg you to ex Lindon raised his head with haughty anger, and said, " The arrangements I desire, sir, are those to be made be tween my friend, Captain Foy, his Excellency's private secre tary, and a gentleman designated by yourself." "Oh! a duel!" said St. John, coldly, "you mean a duel?" "Precisely," said Lindon, bowing ceremoniously, and bit ing his lip to hide his wrath, " you have understood me at last, sir." St. John returned the cold gaze with a look as cold, and said, "May I ask, Mr. Lindon, why you consider it necessary to take my life, or for me to take yours ?" " That is wholly unnecessary !" " Pardon me, I think it is." " Mr. St. John, do you refuse my defiance ? Do you first hide yourself, and when you are found, retreat ! I say retreat, sir! I have been looking for you, and I thought it was only necessary to find you. Am I mis taken, sir?" A flash darted from the young man's eyes, and he raised his head with an air so proud, that it far exceeded the state- liness of his adversary. For a moment he made no reply to these words, but controlling himself at length, said, calmly, " I also have been looking for you, sir." " Good ! then we understand each other perfectly l w " N/3, sir, I think not." " Sir ? "You sought me to deliver a defiance n Yes, sir." "While I sought you to make you an apology." HISS BONKYBEL. 24 1 An expression of profound incredulity came to Linden'* face, and then this look gave way to one of the deepest con tempt. " I am glad I spoke,' 1 he snid, with a curling lip, " before you had an opportunity of addressing me. I will accept no apologies! I reject them in advance ! I have delivered my defiance, and I will not withdraw it !" St. John listened to these insulting words with an air of stupefaction almost. He seemed scarcely to realize that fa tuity could proceed so far. " Mr. Lindon," he said, at length, with eyes which seemed to blaze, " are you demented, out of your senses, lunatic, or is it your intention to act a comedy ?" "Sir!" " I said simply that I sought you to make you that apolo gy which is due from one gentleman to another whose feel ings he has unintentionally been the cause of wounding. Stop, sir ! Before this interview proceeds further I will make that apology in spite of your insults. Another word such as you have just uttered will seal my lips. I have therefore the honor to say, sir, that I had no part in the stupid jest of that servant this evening, whose presumption it is my inten tion to punish. I persist in making the explanation, that the use of that uniform by my servant was wholly without my knowledge or consent an explanation due to myself, inasmuch as I will not suffer you or any one to think that I was guilty of so ill-bred and puei'ile an action. Now, sir, I am not accustomed to make apologies; I would much rather decide differences otherwise. If, after this full and complete explanation, you still persist in your de fiance " " I ,do !" said Lindon, trembling with anger ; " your state ment may be true, or it may be untrue ; in either event I hold you responsible at the sword's point !" St. John stood for a moment pale and silent, confronting his insulting opponent. He scarcely seemed to reahVe that hatred could go so far upon a basis so trifling. 248 MISS BONJSYBIII,. " Well, sir !" said Lindon, " do you intend to show tb white feather ?* St. John turned paler than ever, and his eyes filled wdth blood. " Mr. Lindon," he said, sternly, " I will first ask you a ques tion." " Well, sir ?" " Are you mad, or intoxicated ?" " No, sir ! I am neither ! I am thirsty, sir, however, for your blood !" " For my blood ? Then you take advantage of this trifle to insult me and break down my patience." "I do!" " You do not fight for the cause you have specified ?" "No, sir!" " Pray, why, then ?" " Ask yourself, sir !" " Mr. Lindon, you will pardon me, but your conversation is either stupid, or you are fond of enigmas your real reason, sir I" " Ask yourself, I repeat !" said Lindon, pale with rage ; " I suppose you have not humiliated, laughed at, triumphed over me yonder sufliciently !" "I sir? I humiliated you, triumphed over you!" said St. John, in profound astonishment. "Yes, sir! your air of innocence and surprise does not dupe me ! I am not to be tricked by so shallow a device !" The profound and violent passion of the young man's na ture, upon which he had heretofore placed a resolute curb, began to rise and foam, as he listened to these repeated in sults. " You then design to force me to fight you about noth- ing!" he said, with increasing anger. " Yes 1" was the reply. "You refuse to tell me any rational grounds for youi quarrel." u I do, sir I If you choose to ignore the fact that you hav MISS BON >r BEL. 248 supplanted me, laughed at ~ne, made me a jest in your con versation with a young lady to whom I have paid my ad dresses, then I give no reason ! If you choose to put on ;t mask, and act your part, and puetend ignorance," he con tinued, white with rage, " then I will not explain myself! If you refuse to regard the words which I now utter in yoiu hearing as sufficiently insulting, I will make them, more dis tinct and unmistakeable ! If no word of insult will move you, and induce you to give me that satisfaction which you rightfully owe me, then I '11 throw this glass of wine in your face, sir ! and we '11 see if that outrage will arouse you !" St. John advanced a step, with a countenance as pale as death, in which his dark eyes burned like coals of fire. " Enough, sir !" he said, in a voice low and distinct ; " you have accomplished your purpose, which was doubtless to drive me beyond all patience. We had better pause at the words, sir. Were you to move your arm to throw that wine-glass in my face, I should kill you where you stand. I have the honor, sir, to place myself entirely at your orders. My friend, Captain Waters, will doubtless act for me." And taking a step backward, the young man bowed with cold ceremony, and was silent. An expression of fierce satisfaction diffused itself over his adversary's face and he also bowed low. "Really," said Captain Waters in the most cheerful voice, ' 't is delightful to see an affair conducted in this elegant \vay ! Will I act for you, my dear St. John ? Why cer tainly I will ; and now I have the honor to inform Mr. Lin- don, that my dear friend, Captain Foy, or other gentleman representing him, will find me all day to-morrow at tho Raleigh tavern. Eh ? Is that satisfactory ?" " Perfectly," said Lindon, haughtily ; " you shall hear from Captain Foy." " Good !" said the soldier in a friendly tone ; " that is efc cellent! Morbleu! 'twill give mo absolute ilelight to ucfc 11* 250 MISS BONNYBEL. with Foy. Who knows but he'll take a hand himself i* And then hurrah for the coup of Reinfeh /" The captain's spirits seemed to have risen immensely, and he curled his moustache with an air of the proudest satisfac- tion. " Come, my dear St. John," he said, " as this little affair 'a arranged, let us get our Canary and " " No, I believe I '11 return, captain, but I won't take you. I may count on you ?" " To the death ! " Then I will see you to-morrow." "I '11 arrange all duly. Come dine at ' Flodden' and I'll report to you. Is it understood ?" St. John nodded, and they parted. His interview with Lindon had passed unnoticed almost. The crowd, in the midst of their uproar and revelry, had only seen two men holding an animated conversation, ter minating in a ceremonious bow. So sees the world. As St. John left his side, the captain muttered, with a smile, " Lieutenant St. John and Lieutenant Lindon ! Captain Waters and Captain Foy ! Why the affair arranges itself morbleu!" And he twirled his long black moustache with joyous ar dor. As St. John appeared in the dancing room, the assembly was coming to an end. It terminated with a reel, as usual, and the manner in which the ladies whirled round in their great hooped skirts, or darted from end to end of the apart ment, was marvelous to behold. More than one pile of curls lost the pearl loops and comb which held them, and fell in raven or golden showers on snowy shoulders, sending on the air a storm of perfumed powder. But the accident was unheeded the reel overthrows the influence of cere mony, and they danced on carelessly until the long scrape of the musician's bow gave the signal that the assembl) waa at an <>:id. MISS BONNYBEL. 251 It was the expiring compliment to royalty in Virginia, It was sent upon its way that evening with a "Joy go with you !" and the most stately bows and curteseys ; the next ball in which the representatives of England were concerned, was opened on the battle-field. It was a singular celebration, coming as it did between the seditious assemblage of Burgesses, in the Raleigh, in the morning, and the fasting, humiliation, and prayer of the first of June. This last recommendation of the Bur gesses was widely responded to, and the gentlemen and la dies of the colony went into mourning on that day, and heard a sermon, and fasted, and prayed for the liberties of the land, threatened by the Boston Port bill.* In the old church of Williamsburg, the patriotic clergyman did not mind the presence of the frowning Governor, and spoke without minc ing his words. Two hours after the breaking up of the assembly, St. John was looking pensively through his window, when he saw a light glimmer in a window opposite, and in an instant Bonnybel appeared in the luminous circle of rays. The figure of the young lady, clad in her night dress of snowy white, was visible for an instant only. A white arm was raised, the falling sleeve of the robe leaving it bare, and the extinguisher plunged the whole into darkness. " I am fond of emblematics," muttered the young man, with his sardonic smile, beneath which was, however, con cealed bitter pain and melancholy, " and here I have one that suits my case admirably! I beam my brightest for her, and think that she values me somewhat, when down comes the extinguisher ! I am put out at a word 1 Well, so let it be ! I have something else on my hands now. I need rest for to-morrow." And without further words, he retired to bed. * Historical Illustrations, No. XXXI J . 252 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER XLVm. ST. JOHW GOES TO "PLODDEN." Ow the next morning, St. John made the Vanes a visit, al Mr. Harwell's, and found them all ready to depart. Tho chariot was at the door. To the cordial invitation of the colonel to return with them, the young man responded by saying that he had " important business," which might detain him some days ; he would come as soon as was possible. Few words passed between himself and Bonnybel, and these were very formal and constrained. So they departed. The young man then turned his thoughts to another sub ject. We have seen that he had appointed with Captain Waters to come and dine with that worthy, and hear the result of the negotiations with Foy, and toward the cap tain's, which was up the river, he now directed his way. mounted on " Tallyho," who cantered on gayly, and soon left Williamsburg in the far distance. A ride of an hour brought St. John in front of a fine old building crowning a bluff of the James, and surveying, from its lofty position, the wide expanse of field, and stream, and forest. This was " Flodden," the residence of Captain Ralph Waters, and, far off, across the river, on a lofty hill toward the west, the young man discerned the walls of his own house, " Flower c Hundreds," embowered in the spring foliage, and glittering in the fresh light of morning. St. John had scarcely drawn rein at the door of " Flod den," when the voice of Captain Waters, from within the hall, greeted him jovinlly, and the next moment saw the figure of the soldier advance, with a smile of welcome on the bold features. St. John's horse was led away, and they entered. " Why, here you are as punctual as a clock, morbku I* MISS BONNYBEL. 258 I cried the captain ; " delighted to see you on this glori ous morning. Faith ! it makes a man laugh in spite of him ! And the captain performed that ceremony with great gusto. When the worthy soldier laughed he seemed sim ply to carry out the design for which his features were moulded, as we have said elsewhere in speaking of him. His bold and vigorous nature appeared to find food for laughter in every thing, and his clear eyes looked the whole world in the face with careless good humor. "A fine animal that?" said the captain, gazing at "Tal- lyho," as he was led away, " and I see Selim's blood plain in him." " You are right, captain." " Well, you see, I seldom am any thing else in regard to horses." " And as to men ?" " Well !" said Captain Waters, curling his moustache, " I judge them tolerably too. There 's Foy, now, thinks he 's duping your humble servant, and preserves the most mys terious air about things I 'm perfectly acquainted with. Really, a perfect snake in the grass is that Foy !" And the captain curled his moustache downward, a sign of disdain with him always. " You have seen him of course," said St. John, " as he acts for Mr. Lindon?" " Why, certainly, my dear fellow," returned the captain, " and we had the most charming little interview you ever heard of. Wait till we 're alone, after dinner, comrade, and I '11 tell you how it was." " Good ! I'll listen with pleasure, and I'm not curious at present. Tell me when we 've dined." " Count on that, mon ami, and now let 's go see madau? and the bonpere" " With pleasure ! Madam, whom the captain addressed also, from time to time, as Henriette, was an extremely handsome dame of 254 MISS BONNYBEL. about thirty, perhaps a year or two more, and carried hex self with an air of the most aristocratic ease. Two little girls played on the carpet at her side, and a little boy waa busy on a wooden horse in the distance. Opposite this domestic group sat old John Waters, the captain's father, in his wide, softly-cushioned chair, with his benignant smile, his gray, thin locks, and his empty pipe carelessly resting against his knee. Mrs. Waters advanced, with her courtly and graceful case, to press St. John's hand, the old man rose erect in hia chair, and smiled more benignantly than ever, and even the little girls rose too, and came, bashfully peering from their showers of golden curls, to receive their share of the young man's attention. It was only Captain Ralph Waters, jr., that, somewhat petted and spoiled young gentleman, who paid no attention to the visitor. " See the domestic and touching group !" said the captain ; "the hen in the midst of her chickens; the dame partlet scratching and clucking.** Madam Henriette shook her handsome head, threatening ly, at this address, and said, "Well, sir, and pray what are you?" "I *m a rooster," observed the captain with great candor ; w you see, my dear partlet, I fought the Fran$ais so long, and heard the crowing of the Gallic cock so often, that mor- blcul I 've turned to a rooster completely." " And I suppose you like to crow over us poor women ?" " Exactly." "Is he not a shameful man, Mr. St. John?" said the lady, laughing ; "he has not the least regard for our feelings." " Your feelings, madam ?" "Yes ; only the other day I requested him to buy me a set of pea: is at Rowsay's, in town, and he absolutely re (used." "Is it possible, captaip?" said St. Johnj "could you r0- artf MISS "Yes, ray dear boy," said the captain, heaving a sigh, " I was hard-hearted to that extent." " You acknowledge it then ?" " Certainly." "Is that not dreadful, Mr. St. John?" said the .ady, " there is only one excuse that he gives ; can you divine it?" " No indeed." "This excuse is, that he bought me some diamonds! It is true that the diamonds cost ten times as much as the pearls, and I greatly preferred them, and said so. But he knew that I did not wish to be so extravagant, and like an unfeeling man, he went and bought the diamonds !" The captain looked guilty and conscience-stricken his expression of remorse was affecting. " Well, well, my dear," he said, " do not thus expose my failings to the public. Ventrebleu / I 'm ashamed, but you ?e3 diamonds have always attracted me since " The captain paused. "Since when, sir?" " Since I won your heart with that diamond necklace, my dear Henriette !" replied Captain Waters, with simplicity, * some time in the good year '65, I think." At this charge, madame seemed to be actually over come by indignation. Her work dropped upon her knee, she gazed steadily at her enemy, and then burst into laughter. "Mr. St. John I hope you will pardon me," she said, struggling with her mirth, "but this gentleman, Captain Waters, always sets me off! Look at him there, everlast ingly playing with that horrid moustache, stooping in his shoulders, and pretending to be dreaming, as he thrums on his chair. Just look !" " Dreaming ?" said the captain ; " was I dreaming ma chere ?" " Yes, sir, you were !" cried Mrs. Henriette, laughing. "I believe I was," said the captain, whose bold face grew 2o6 MISS LONNYBEL. suddenly very sad, " I was thinking of those good old times, and our Beatrice." The martial head drc oped, and for a moment there was silence. The lady's face, too, had passed from smiles to sadness from mirth to pensiveness. " Eh bien /" said the captain, heaving a sigh ; "let us r;ot rake in the ashes for those buried memories. I '11 dream no more, but rather light the ban per&s pipe. Eh ? Shall I, mon pere /" The old man assented with a smile and a nod, and the lady laid down her work and went and arranged the cricket for his feet in the kindest and most attentive way. The little girls then leaned on grandpa's knee to see the brilliant glow in the bowl of the pipe, and then the old man was left alone to his dreams, and Captain Waters and his friend strolled out through the grounds, talking of every thing but the real subject, which, by general consent, had been deferred. Thus passed the morning at Flodden. CHAPTER XLIX. HOW CAPTAIN RALPH WATERS FULFILLED HIS MISSION. "Now, my dear comrade," said the captain, when he and St. John were alone over their wine, " now we can come to our little arrangements, and I can report progress." " Thanks, my dear captain," replied St. John, " and first^ what time is fixed on ?" "To-morrow morning.' ft The place ?" " Jamestown island. Have you any objection ? w " None captain, though I was there lately upon a more agreeable errand." MISS BONNYHEL. 257 " Well, that 's settled then ; but I '11 proceed more in order and tell you how I set to work shall I ?" " It will interest me." " Well," said the captain, filling his glass and pushing the bottle, " I was at the Raleigh tavern duly as I informed Monseigneur Lindon, and I duly received a visit from Foy " A strange second, is he not ?" " Why no how ?" " He looks so peaceful ?" " You do n't know him, mon ami ; he 's a perfect take* in, that Foy is a real sword blade, ventrebleu ! Well Foy came and we made each other the lowest and most courte ous bow. You see we are both of us old hands at this business, and we went at it like ducks to water. * My dear Foy, is it so and so ?' * Yes, my dear captain,' bowing, smiling, as amicable as two ganders hissing and wagging their beaks at each other." St. John smiled. "Then every thing was easily arranged ? n " By no means." "Explain yourself." " With pleasure. Foy, you see, was in favor of going out of the province to fight " " Out of the province !" " Yes, he was a little touchy about Dunmore, and so the conversation was something like the following. I listen to his proposition, smiling politely, and the first remark I make is, ' My dear Foy, are you afraid ?' " ' Afraid, sir ?' he says, coldly ; * I am not accustomed to feel afraid!' " ' Oh well, my dear comrade, do n't be offended,' I re plied, ' it really did seem to me that this looked something like fear of his Excellency.' " ' His Excellency is not my master, Captain Waters.' " ' Really, now, is he not ?' .258 .- MISS IIOXNYBEL. " ' No, sir !' this observation being uttered with a sort of flash out of the eyes, you see. " ' Oh, my dear comrade,' I say, 'just see now how you are deprived of that praise which is justly your due ! 'T is whispered everywhere that it is his Excellency who really employs Conolly in his rascally mission to embroil the bor derers, and that you are only the instrument he uses, when in fact you are all the while head man.' " "Why, captain," said St. John, smiling, "that seems to me nothing more nor less than an insult 1" " Precisely, mon ami," said the captain, cheerfully, "just so." ' You wished to insult Captain Foy ? w "Yes." " For what purpose ?" " In order that a little affair might be hatched between L\m and myself.'* "Ah! indeed!" " Exactly, my dear fellow. Ventrebleu ! you have no idea how many overtures I have made to Foy in order to draw him into a quarrel. But he won't take offense." " Your object ? Do yon hate him ?" ;,. "Not at all." " Why then" " Wish to fight him ? Simply because I wish to put an end to his maneuvers ! I do hate Dunmore, and by run ning Foy through the gizzard, you see, I disable his Excel lency's right arm to the shoulder blade." The cheerful way in which Captain Waters unfolded these views was admirable to behold. " I 'm merely a rude soldier, you see, mon ami," he con tinued, " but having learned diplomacy on the continent, I practice it here. That was my object then in drawing Foy out, and I thought I had him that time !" "What did he reply?" " Well, for a moment he said nothing. You see, I had said that he ought to have the praise of employing Conolly MISS BONNYBEL. 251 Ti that rcscally mission, and I waited, smiling, for him to insult me again." u Did he fail to ? " Point blank. I was all ready getting my hand ready to take off my hat and bow, and say, ' Well, when shall we settle our little difference, comrade ?' In a word, I looked for an explosion. It never came. Foy only looks at me with those wicked eyes, and says, ' I have already disclaimed more than a passing acquaintance with Major Conolly, Cap tain Waters let us return to our affair.' " ' In an instant, directly, my dear comrade,' I say polite ly, 'but first tell me one tiring.' " ' What is that, sir ?' "'Is it really true,' I continued, smiling, 'that Conolly has orders from Dunmore, or his tools in Williamsburg, to promise the Indians assistance from his Excellency, if they make an inroad and massacre the people on the Virginia borders ?' " As I say this, Foy's eye flashes worse than ever, and his thin lips contract. He advances a step, frowning. " ' Captain Waters,' he says, ' do I look like a man who is fond of being insulted ?' " ' Why no, comrade.' '"Do I look like a man,' he continues, does this red-hot Foy ! ' who would leave his sword in its scabbard if it was possible to draw it ?' " ' No,' I reply, ' and whether you look so or not, I know you can use it, and have the will, companion.' " ' Well, sir,' he says, with real dignity, hang him ! ' well, sir, if I do not cram down your throat the insults you have addressed to me, you may understand that I refrain simply because my hands are bound for the present by the office 1 hold, otherwise, Captain Waters,' he adds, bowing, ' it would give me immense pleasure to cut your throat !' Those were his very words." And the soldier burst out laughing, in which laughter St. John united. \ 260 MISS BONNYBEL. "You see, after that, my dear fellow," said the cjptam, "I could not add another insult." " CV. tainlv not." "la feet I positively adored Foy after that reply! He looked so gallant, when he said it ! he touched his left side, where a sword ought to have been, with such an air! he was so cool, and elegant, and ferocious, when he mentioned his desire to cut my throat, that I could have embraced him as a brother !" The captain twirled his moustache with admiration to his very eyes as he spoke, and seemed lost in delighted contem plation. " Well," said St. John, laughing, " after that the interview was more friendly ?" " Friendly ! I believe you ! After that it was positively fraternal ! Then it was that we came to resemble two high bred geese, nodding our heads, and uttering ' Ah's !' and ' Oh's !' and ' By no means !' and 'Really captain's !' You ought to have seen us ! We would not overcome each other we could not force each other to accept what each, wanted. It was, " ' Really, my dear Captain Waters, it must be Jamestown island, as you wish !' " ' No, upon my honor, my dear Foy, it shall be out oi the province, as you desire !' "'I never can consent to inconvenience such a gallant man !' " ' I never should hold up my head again if I forced such a noble gentleman as you, my dear Foy, to quarrel with his Excellency !' It was this, that, the other, no, yes, really, truly ! At last I yielded, and to see how Foy pressed my hand you would have thought I had done him the greatest favor in the world. ** * I shall not quarrel with his Excellency, captain,' he says, smiling, 'and I have already said he is not my mas ter.' " * Do n't all ide to my miserable rudeness, comrade" I MISS BONNYBEL. 201 reply ; ' it wounds me to the heart, and I shall shed tears.' " ' That is all forgotten, captain,' says Foy ; ' a mere jest. Do not think that I shall suffer from engaging as second in a combat to take place at Jamestown island. His Excel lency will not inquire very closely, for you know, my deai Captain Waters,' adds Foy, with a tiger smile, * you know my principal, Mr. Lindon, is a perfect master of every weapon, and he '11 be sure to kill Mr. St. John ! You will under stand, in the present state of affairs between Mr. St. John and his Excellency,' adds Foy, smiling, ' that Mr. Lindon or myself will not be very severely scolded !' " " Pshaw, captain !" said St. John, " your hero turns out a boaster, and a mere bloodthirsty calculator of chances !" " Certainly ! Do n't you comprehend that all his bowing and smiling was acted ?" "Eh?" " Nothing less," returned the captain. " Foy, mon ami 1 is, by nature, as great a comedian as that celebrated little Garrick I saw in London. I know him well but, to finish." " Yes, let us hear the rest." " I will be more brief. The weapons then came up, and we had some discussion as to the length and other points. There was no real difficulty, because both you and Mr. Lin don prefer swords. So that was arranged, and I engaged to provide them of exactly the same length. It is the ordinary length, and I '11 show them to you directly. Then the hour of seven, to-morrow morning, was fixed on, and we parted, mutually pleased with each other. My only hope with Foy now is to drive him into insulting me, and then of course he can't refuse my challenge. I would cheerfully pay five hundred pounds to have him, for ten minutes, at arm's length !" Having expressed himself cheerfully to this effect, Cap tain Waters emptied his glass, and suggested a stroll on the lawn. The young man rose, and the captain led the way out, 262 Miss BONNY ::::r.. It had been arranged that St. John should remain at Flod den for convenience, and accompany his host in his own carriage, and every detail being thus determined on, even down to the hour to awake, the subject was for the moment dismissed. CHAPTER L. THE FUGITIVE. TUB two friends made the circuit of the lawn, and had reached the broad gate, when a man, riding at full speed, drew up suddenly before them and inclined his head. " Will you be good enough to inform me, sir," he said, addressing the captain who was foremost, " whether this is the road to the town of Richmond V" " It is, sir," replied the soldier ; " and you have only to follow it and you '11 soon arrive at that place." " And that other road branching oif ?" asked the horse man, extending his hand, and at the same moment looking over his shoulder. " That leads to New Kent Court House, to Hanover, or Bang William, and so, west." " Thanks, sir," said the stranger, hurriedly, and with an other glance over his shoulder, he struck spurs into his horse, and departed at a rapid gallop. . The eyes of the two men followed him, and they saw him turn into the road to New Kent, disappearing in an instant in the pines. The captain shook his head.. " There 's something wrong about this gentleman, mon ami? he said ; " something lies beneath this, take my word for it ! But I could n't refuse to reply to a civil question." " Uxo and I agree with you. Who could it be, captain ?" " Faith, I can't imagine ! If, now, it had occurred on th continent-*-** MISS BONNYBEL. 26? " What ?" " Why, I should nave set our rapid cavalier down for a king's messenger. But, you know, we do n't have kings on the western continent, a circumstance for which I do n't mind saying I 'm grateful, comrade. " They 're a poor set of fellows," added the soldier ; " I 've seen many and never admired one. You see, my dear fel low, they are shams, and they know it ; from his gracious Majesty George HI., defender of the faith, et cetera, down to his royal highness of Poland, a post which my friends, General Littlepage, and Captain Charles Lee, very nearly occupied. I 'm glad they did n't lower themselves ; and these are my views 1 Who the devil could this horseman have been ?" " I can't tell you." " Well, well, let him go on ; I care nothing, morbleu I As Effingham says, my friend Champ, you know, * 't is all in the game,' and so he may go on !" Having reached this extremely philosophical conclusion, the captain twirled his moustache, and led the way back to the mansion, which he and his companion entered. They had scarcely disappeared when three horsemen, rid ing at full speed, shot by the gate on the track of the fugi tive. They bent in their saddles as they rode, and evidently examined the highway for the marks of hoofs, by which they seemed to follow and track their game. Coming, in a moment, to the cross road leading to New Kent, which the fugitive had taken, they suddenly drew up, and one of them dismounted. It was the stranger, the friend of St. John. " Friends," he said, in his calm, deep voice, " ha has not followed the high road further. Here are his footprints ; he has turned off toward the court house. Come !" And getting into his saddle again, he took the lead, and the whole troop disappeared in the foliage, J^et u follow them. 264 HISS BOJS'NYBEL. They darted on, at full speed, for more than a mile, and then, reaching the summit of a hill, distinctly perceived the fugitive ascending another hill, at full gallop, half a mile in fldvance of them. " Look !" cried the stranger ; " there ! see ! we shall ar rest him !" And digging the spur into his horse's side, he darted on ward, taking the lead of his companions. The solitary horseman had turned in his saddle and seen them, and a gesture of rage and despair, visible even at the great distance, showed how much he feared the encounter. The pursuers rode furiously for another mile, and entered the somber woodland of pines, whose summits were now gilded by the last rays of the setting sun. With bent heads, as they rode at full gallop, the stranger and his companions scanned the road, to convincfe them selves that the fugitive had not turned aside into the wood land. The tracks continued in the center of the road, and they pushed on at, full speed. Nearly five miles thus ran from beneath the rapid feet of their horses, and still the tracks held the center of the high way. Suddenly one of the riders stretched out his hand, and said, " Look !" Two hundred yards before them, a horse without a rider was flying onward, and panting heavily as he ran. The stranger uttered a growl, as it were, of disappoint ment, and drew rein suddenly. " He has dismounted and escaped into the woods !" he said, calmly ; " we need not further follow the highway." The three horsemen drew up, and with the heads of '.heir animals thus touching, held a rapid consultation with the stranger. It was quickly decided that each should take different directions, and beat the whole country for traces of the fugitive. MISS BONHYBEL. L'OO "Be alert, friends! do not stop! do not sleep!" said tlie stranger, whose fiery eyes plunged into the woodland, upon which the shades of night were rapidly descending ; " it is of the first importance, as you know, that this man's dis patches shall be secured ! It will be for us a powerful en gine ! Come! to work! forward! We may still arrot, him on his way." And the three horsemen separated, each taking different ways. The dark pines received them, and they disappeared like shadows, the sound of their hoofs dying away in the somber depths, from which nothing was heard but the cries of night birds, and the harsh murmur of frogs in the swampy, lov grounds. As they disappeared, a pile of brushwood, deep in the woodland, stirred slightly, a man's head rose, and seeing that the coast was clear, the man emerged from the brush, and listened. " Well gentlemen," he said, with a sinister smile which made his eyes glitter in the starlight, " I have escaped your toils, I think, and you will probably have an agreeable time of it beating the bushes of the country-side here. I have my papers all safe here in my breast, most worthy patriots, and there they will remain for the present. I shall only ar rive at Fort Pitt a little later, and our affairs will not suffer. It 's odds if I do not pay you, and the people of Virginia generally, for this little night ride !'' He paused a moment and listened. " All is still," he said, " and now it only remains to get another horse. That 's easy, as my pockets are well lined by his lordship ! Come ! let us not despair ; I trust in the doctrine of chances, and they 've seldom failed me!" Having thus spoken, the fugitive turned, resolutely, deeper into the woodland, ^nd was soon lost in the dark- pess, W 266 MISS BONNY BEL. The mnn who thus escaped with his papers of such great importance, was Major Conolly, secret agent of Lord Dun- more in embroiling the border and arousing the Indian tribea against the people of the Virginia frontier.* CHAPTER LI. HBB ONLY FAILING. ON the next morning, after a sound night's rest on the captain's part, and much tossing to and fro, in his dreams, on St. John's, the friends met and greeted each other. Madam Henriette met them with a smile. " Where in the world are you going so early ?" she said to her husband ; " breakfast is ready but why set out so soon ?" The captain saw that his wife was dying with curiosity, but he only smiled ; he did not reply. '" This is not court day, I believe, Mr. St. John ?" " No, madam, I think not." " Does any thing of interest take place in town this morn ing ? " I have not heard, madam." " Then where in the world are you going, Captain Waters ? You. really are the most provoking " " My clear Henriette " "Well, sir?" " I think you said that breakfast was ready ?" The lady pouted, and said that it was. " Then, with your leave, we will proceed to eat it. Ven? tre bleu ! I 'm as hungry as a hawk after all that sleep 1" And the captain led the way into the breakfast room, and cUd the honors of his board. * Historical Illustrations, No. XXXITT, MISS BON NV ;;:::.. 267 Thereafter, his carriage was ordered at once, and he and St. John put on their hats. " What in the world is that bundle they are putting in the carriage ?" said Mrs. Henriette. " Are they putting a bundle in the carriage ?" said the captain, with interest. " Yes, you see they are 1" "Well, so they are." And the captain put on his gloves. " When will you be back ?" asked the lady thus constant ly foiled. " Do n't know," said the captain. " Where can you be going ?" " Did you say it was a fine morning, my dear St. John f Why glorious !" " Captain Waters I" said the lady, with an imperious little gtamp of the foot. " Did you speak, my dear ?" said the soldier. " Yes, sir ! I asked you to be so good as to tell me where you and Mr. St. John are going ?" " Why yes !" said tiie captain, " certainly, my dear." " Yes, what, sir ? " The moon w, most probably, green cheese." The captain uttered these words with a cheerful and smiling air, which caused Mrs. Henriette to pat her little foot with impatience and vexation. " I think it 's very cruel in you !" she said, pouting. The captain twirled his moustache absently. " Won't you please tell me ?" The captain smiled. " Won't you tell your Henriette, Ralph ?" said the lady with an entreating air, and leaning on his shoulder. The captain's lip curled with smiles. " You know it 's so simple just a word," she said, coax ingly ; " won't Ralph tell his Henriette?" The captain smiled again and ended by laughing. U I think I can!" he said, absently. 268 MISS BONNYBEL. " Tell me, ruy dear ! I thought you would !" " I *m sure I can !" continued the soldier, with his syea fixed upon vacancy. " Certainly nothing is more proper, Ralph, to your ow loving wife 1" The captain woke, as it were, from his dream. " What is that, my love ?" he said ; " do you agree with me that it 's proper ? But what do you know about such things ? You can't tell whether Foy will resign his secre taryship." " You were not listening to me then, sir 1" said Mrs. Hen- riette, imperiously. " No, my love." " You did not hear me ?" " Have you been speaking ?" "You are a disgraceful husband, sir !" " Why ?" asked the captain, cheerfully. " Because you will not tell me, or even listen. But you haH tell me where you 're going with Mr. St. John, sir 1" " Well, my love." " You are outrageous !" " So I am, ma chere /" " Where are you going ?" "To Jericho." "Captain Waters!" " Madam !" " What are you going to do ?" "Take the air l' The lady, flushed with vexation, and half-threatening, half-laughing, caught away the captain's hat. " You shall tell me ?" she said, laughing. The captain recovered his hat, and bursting into respon sive laughter, cried, " Away, partlet I silence, hen ! Go make the bibs and tuckers for the chickens, and do n't meddle with the roost er's private matters !" The captain then squeezed Mrs. Henriette's cheeks with Miss UONNV;;::^. 269 his fingers, gallautly ravished a kiss, and followed oy his friend, got into the carriage. " That 's a charming wife of mine, my dear boy," be said, as they rolled rapidly on their way ; " though slightly sub ject to curiosity, her only failing. Well, well, let's be charitable ! And now, mon ami, I will give you my views upon the subject of Linden's style of fencing. Let us com pare views." The captain then proceeded to enter at length upon his favorite topic, and he was still speaking when they reached the low peninsula of Jamestown. The soldier referred to his timepiece. "Just seven," he said, "and here come Foy and Lin- don." CHAPTER LII. THE COMBAT: BED AND WHITE BOSKS. TUB two carriages arrived almost at the same moment, and the hostile parties, as they issued forth, made each othei a low bow. Lindon was superbly dressed, but Captain Foy wore hi* customary suit of black, fitting closely to his slender and nervous figure. Around his waist was buckled a plain sword, with yellow leather accoutrements, the whole very much worn. Captain Waters had no sooner accomplished his bow, than, assuming a most engaging smile, he pointed to the weapon of the secretary, and said, " Do n't I recognize an old friend there, comrade ? It seems to me that sword is not new to me, and I even think it once ran into my body, did it not ?" Captain Foy made a modest gesture, and said, " Let us forget our youthful contentions, Captain Waters j they are of no importance nowt" 270 MTSS KONNYBEu " But really, I 'm curious," said the captain ; " did you not wear that sword " " At Reinfels ? Yes, sir. 'T is an old companion, with whom I 'm loth to part. Shall we now proceed to make our arrangements ?" " With pleasure ; here are the swords." The bundle was unwrapped, and the weapons were mea sured. *' Exact to an inch, these two," said Captain Waters, " and you may take either." u Thanks, captain, I accept this." And Foy took one of the swords, and critically examined its point. He then made it whistle to and fro in his vigorous and nervous grasp, listening if the blade clicked in the hilt. The examination seemed to satisfy him perfectly, and making his opponent another bow, he said, " I find this weapon perfect, Captain Waters, and we may now proceed to business, as the position of these gentlemen is already determined upon, north and south with the sun." " Yes, my dear comrade ; you really fill me with admira tion, and make me remember old times. Could n't we have a little bout now, after this event is through ; a mere friendly pass or two ?" " I would rather not, captain ; you might wound me, and I can not afford to lose my time now, having much to attend to." " You retain your post of secretary ?" " Yes, sir." The captain sighed. *' My dear Foy," he said, " I Ml give you five hundred pounds if you '11 resign." " I regret to say that 't is impossible for me to accept your offer, Captain Waters. Shall we proceed ?" " Of course, of course !" And the captain examined St. John's sword as carefully *e his opponent had tested Linden's, I.IIS3 BONNYBEL. 27l He then raised his head, and making a notion dth his hand, '* Foy," he said, " a moment yet before we commence." " Certainly, sir." " Is your secretaryship the obstacle in the way of that friendly little affair I proposed ?" " Yes sir." " I offered you five hundred pounds to resign, did I not ? M " I believe so, sir." " And you refused ?" " Yes, sir.' " You still refuse ?" " Yes, sir." " Well, I offer you a thousand !* " Captahi Waters," said the secretary, smiling grimly, "if you proceed any further you will make me laugh, and as laughter, upon an occasion like the present, is not becom ing, I must beg you to desist. I regret extremely that 't is not in my power to resign my commission in his Excel lency's service at the present time. If, however, that event occurs, I shall most assuredly inform you, and willingly permit you to take advantage of it in the way you pro pose." Captain Foy bowed as he spoke, and indicated that he was ready. Waters shook his head. " My dear comrade," he said, sighing, " that was always your way. You talk so eloquently, and turn your periods with such melodious art, that a poor camp devil like myself, morbleu, can't answer you, and 's obliged to yield. I will, therefore, say no more, except that I most thankfully accept your offer, and will, on the proper occasion, gladly avail myself of it." And turning to hand Mr. St. John his sword, Captain Waters muttered to himself, *' Ah, rascal ! ah, rascally second of a rascally principal, if faces do n't deceive me ! I '11 yet split your forked tonga? 272 . MISS BONNYBEL. still wider, and pull your fangs, ;mil stop you forefinger and thumb from writing instructions for Conolly !" " What did you say, my dear captain ?" asked Foy. "I observed, my dear friend, that it was a charming morning, and that I was filled with happiness at meeting again, on this congenial occasion, with a comrade for whom I have so great an affection as yourself. I foresee, if we ever kill each other 't will be from a pure love of art, not from bad blood, and so, if you choose, we '11 proceed." With these words, accompanied by the most agreeable smiles, Captain Waters went to the side of his friend, who was calmly looking forth upon the beautiful river, and signi fied to him that every preliminary of the combat was now arranged. The young man coolly took his weapon, and leaned the point upon his boot. " All 's ready, my dear St. John," the captain said, " and I have only to add a word. Lindon is as fresh as a lark ; he 's taken perfect care of himself, and, therefore, I advise you not to stand on the defensive with a view to weary him. Better lunge from the first, and I think, from the way he carries his elbow, your best lunge will be in carte." "Thanks, captain," said St. John; "I shall simply en deavor to protect myself, having not the least desire to shed this gentleman's blood. If that is necessary, however, I shall not hesitate, having been forced into the whole affair, and being quite at my ease." The captain's countenance filled with pleasure. "My dear St. John," he said, "you will kill him! 1 know you will ! I compliment you !" " Why, captain ?" ** You are cool as ice, and now let us get to business." Captain Foy signified at the same moment that Mr. Lindon was ready, and the opponents confronted each other. " Gentlemen," said Captain Waters, " we now permit you to proceed, unless the party from whom the insult, on this MISS BONNYBEL. 273 occasion, has issued, shall make full and ample apology foi the same, retracting the said insult, and entreating pardoi of his opponent." Lindon made a haughty movement, but Captain Foy answered for him. "It is with great regret that we must decline such apol ogy," said the secretary ; " unfortunately there is no possi bility of any such thing." " You persist ?" said Captain Waters. " We have the honor," said Captain Foy. " Well then the affair will, of course, proceed. There is absolutely no alternative. This affair, gentlemen, as I need scarcely say, has arisen from a difference of opinion upon the quality of the Canary supplied to the late assembly, Mr. St. John having declared the said Canaiy wretched, and un worthy to be drunk by a gentleman, Mr. Lindon having taken the opposite view, and offered Mr. St. John a glass, which that gentleman declined. I confess I see no means of bringing about a community of sentiment but the sword, and so, Captain Foy, we are ready 1" " And we, sir proceed, gentlemen !" The two men raised their swords quickly, and the weapons crossed. The seconds retired ten paces and looked on. Lindon was perfectly fresh, and, as his sword touched his opponent's, his eyes flashed with gratified hatred. St. John was perfectly calm and cool. Lindon advanced furiously and made a mortal thrust at his opponent, which was parried perfectly. The next moment they closed in a violent, deadly, breast to-breast struggle, the swords glittering in what seemed in extricable confusion, bat really the perfection of skill and method. Both the seconds advanced at once, crying " Gentlemen ' gentlemen !" The combatants stopped and drew back Lindon pale with rnge, St. John growing gradually hot. 274 MIS8 BONKYBKU '* Gentlemen !" said Captain Waters, with affecting earn estness, " you really move me to the heart, and wound my sense of propriety cruelly, in which I am sure I also utter the sentiments of my friend, Captain Foy ! In Heaven's name do n't make a dagger fight of an honorable encounter with swords before seconds ! Let us commence again, gen tlemen, and spare our feelings, I beseech you." The captain was evidently greatly affected as he spoke, and Foy said, "I beg, gentlemen, that you will observe the sugges tion of Captain Waters. It is no less just than feelingly expressed." The two men, whose blood was completely aroused, waited with impatience for the signal to proceed. The word was given, and they threw themselves upon each other with the ferocity of tigers. Lindon made his former lunge with a fury which indi cated the height of his rage. St. John again parried it per fectly. For ten minutes then they fought, not like two civilized men opposed to each other, but like blood-thirsty gladia tors on the arena, in a mortal combat. The two men were as nearly matched as possible, and the incessant clash of the weapons, from which darted flashes like lightning, proved the immense skill and strength of the enemies. Suddenly St. John struck his foot against a stone, and thrown off his guard for an instant, could not parry the fu rious lunge of his opponent. The point of Linden's sword appeared streaming with blood behind the young man's back, and at the same instant his own weapon was buried in his enemy's shoulder. Lindon's weapon broke at the hilt, and the two combat- tants fell, dragging each other to the ground. The seconds ran and pulled them asunder, and raised them to their feet. Leaning on the shoulders of Captain Waters and Captain MISS BONNYBEL. 276 Foy, the two men gazed at each other with flash .ng eyes and crimson cheeks, breathing heavily, and clutching at their weapons. " Your sword ! Give me your sword, Captain Foy," cried Lindon, faintly, *' I '11 finish him !" Foy's hand moved to his weapon. " Captain Foy," said Waters, " if you hand that weapon to your principal I '11 run you through the body, and him too, upon my honor !" " Let him have it !" said St. John, hoarsely, his breast streaming with blood. " Your sword, sir !" " He shall not !" cried Captain Waters, " 't is three inches longer than yours." Foy moved to draw the weapon. " Well comrade !" said Waters, " if that 's the use you 're going to make of it, nothing could delight me more! I have been pleading for the favor. Captain Foy, I have the honor to salute you and to place myself entirely at your orders !" With these cold words, Captain Waters drew his sword and confronted his opponent. Foy's hand left the hilt of the weapon, and a keen flash of his proud eye showed how reluctantly he yielded. " No sir," he said, coldly, " there shall be no need of the encounter you propose. I recognize the propriety of your objection to the further progress of this affair, and I agree with you that it is, for the present, at an end." As he spoke, Captain Foy turned to Lindon, who was deadly pale, and staunched the deep wound in his shoulder with his white handkerchief, which he bound round it. He then assisted Lindon, who could scarcely stand alone, to his carriage, and turning to bow to Captain Waters, or dered the driver to drive to Williamsburg. Captain Waters then gave his whole attention to St. John. The young man had stretched out his hand and plucked a little white rose from a sweet briar, rustling in the river 276 MISS BONNYfeEt. ' just such an one as Bonnybei had pulled to pieces on that morning and looking now at the flower, he seemed to think of the girl. " What are you doing there, comrade ?" said the soldier, " what is that ?" "Only a flower, captain," he said faintly. " A flower 1" " Yes, a rose, and here is another a red one." With which St. John endeavored to point to the circular blood-stain, gradually extending upon his white linen bos om. As he spoke, the captain felt the young man's form weigh heavily upon his arm; and the head fell like a wounded bird's. He had fainted. Captain Waters was one of those men who act promptly. He took the young man in his arms, and carrying him like a child, to the edge of the stream, deluged his fore head with the cool water. He then laid the pale form upon the green sward, and tearing violently away the frill at bis own breast, proceeded to bare the bosom of the wounded man, and probe the wound. Linden's sword had struck upon a letter, written on thick Bath post, and thus diverted from its point blank direction toward the heart, had traversed the flesh and muscles com pletely through to the back. The wound was more painful than dangerous, except from the profuse flow of blood. Captain Waters bound it up with the rapidity and skill of an experienced hand, and St. John opened his eyes. "How do you feel now, comrade ?" said the soldier, kneel ing, and holding up the young man's head. " A little faint," was the reply " Where am I, cap tain ? "You are on the grass, companion, with a bad flesh wound, which talking make* worse ; and the motion of the MISS carriage will be worse still for it, morbleu ! Miserable day that it is ! And the soldier groaned. The young man pointed with his finger to the stream. The captain looked, and saw a sail-boat passing. " I will go to Flower of Hundreds captain," said St. John, faintly. The soldier gently deposited his burden upon the sward again, and hastening to the point of the island running out into the stream, hailed the boatman. In fifteen minutes the young man was being borne in the tittle bark toward Flower of Hundreds, his head supported upon the breast of Captain Waters. He still held the small, white flower in his band, and Bon- nybel's letter had not left his breast. CHAPTER LIU THE NEWS BEACHES VANELY. IN the old drawing-room at Vanely, through whose open windows a fresh breeze wafts in an odor of green leaves, and flowers, and fruit trees, full of perfumed blossoms, sit the young ladies of the family, busily engaged on some or namental work, and in entertaining Mr. Alston and a certain Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton is a rubicund widower who has come- he says to see Colonel Vane on business ; but not finding that gentleman at home, is disconsolate, and is compelled to talk with Miss Seraphina. He calls frequently " on business with Colonel Vane." Mr. Alston does not mask his designs with any such plea he does not conceal the fact that he has come "to shake the tree," or in other words, to pay his addresses to Miss Helen, who seems far from being offended by it. 178 MI86 BONNYBEL. For the moment, however, honest Tom is talking with Miss Bonnybel. He leans over her, a,;d says, with a gentle smile, " Pray what enchanting little affair is that, Miss Bonny bel ? The wedding dress of a fairy princess ?" Bonnybel appears, of late, to have lost much of her old vivacity. She scarcely smiles as she replies: " It is only a cuff. I thought I would make them myself instead of giving them to Miss Carne." " Miss Carne ? pray who is that ?" " I forgot you 've not seen her. She 's a seamstress whom we brought from town with us. There she is at the door." Mr. Alston turns his head and makes a slight movement, as he sees before him the remarkable head. Miss Carne is an Italian-looking woman, with a brunette complexion, black hair, and deep, penetrating eyes. She is undeniably hand some, standing in her submissive attitude with folded hands; but there is something repelling in her air and appearance "Have you laid out the pieces, Miss?" she said, with a slight Italian accent ; " I am ready to go on with the dress." Bonnybel gave her some directions, and she disappeared as she came, without noise. "A singular face," said Mr. Alston, " but I do not like it She is undoubtedly beautiful, but not prepossessing. Well, that is scarcely a matter of importance. Pray whose is this delightfully perfumed epistle?" adds Mr. Alston, smiling, and raising, as he does so, from the table an embossed paper. " T is Aunt Seraphina's verses," says Helen, smiling de murely ; '* ask her to let you read them." " Coming from such a source, they must be indeed per fect," says the gallant Jack Hamilton, with an ogle. In spite of Miss Seraphina's objections, Mr. Alston reads aloud, MISS BOXNYBEL. 271 A LADY'S ADIEU TO HER TEA TABLE. * Farewell to the Tea Board, with its gaudy equipage Of Cups and Saucers, Cream Bucket, Sugar Tongs, The pretty Tea Chest, also, lately stored With Hyson, Congo, and best Double Fine. Pull many a joyous moment have I sat by ye, Hearing the Girls Tattle, the Old Maids talk Scandal, And the spruce Coxcomb laugh at, may be, nothing. No more shall I dish out the once loved Liquor, Though now detestable to all at Vanely, Because I 'm taught (and I believe it true), Its Use will fasten slavish Chains upon my Country, And LIBERTY 's the Goddess 1 would choose To reign triumphant in AMERICA I" "Bravo!" cried honest Jack; "I have rarely heard such rerses ! Permit me, my dear Miss Seraphina, to have them put in the ' Gazette.' " " O, I never could consent," murmurs Miss Seraphina, in confusion. " Genius must be treated with gentle force, my dear madam," says Mr. Hamilton ; " I '11 strike out the word* ' to all at Vanely," and all the colony shall admire you.' That the gentleman carried out his threat is proved from the fact that we have taken the verses from the old " Vir ginia Gazette." The conversation then turns on a number of things, and finally, at the request of Tom Alston, Bonnybel goes reluc tantly to the harpsichord and sings. The song is " Kathe- rine Ogie," and the young lady sings it with deep sad ness. It sighs itself away, and she returns listlessly to her seat. " An exquisite tune," says Mr. Alston, " and *t is Harry's great favorite. By the bye, Miss Bonnybel, where is Har ry?" " I really do not know, sir," is the reply ; " in town, I ppose, where we left him, or rather he left us." And Bonnybel's sadness changes to :i pout. ** Harry 's not in town, my child," says the voice of ColonoJ 280 MISS BO-XNYBKI* Vane, behind them, " and I 'm sorry to say that his life is in danger." Bonnybel rose to her feet with a start,, turning pale as death, but instantly fell again in the chair. *' He is at 'Flower of Hundreds,' " continued the colonel, sorrowfully, "and he was brought thither yesterday, by Captain Waters, in one of the sail-boats. The acco'int is, that the boatman was hailed by Captain Waters, at James town, and going ashore found Harry lying on the grass, bleeding from a wound in the breast. I know who 's tc blame for it !" added the colonel, flushing, " and if the boy dies, I'll pursue him to the end of the earth !" He was diverted from his wrath by a, sudden exclamation from Helen. Bonnybel had caught her sister's arm, to pre vent herself from fainting. In a few minutes she was weep ing in her chamber, in the arms of Helen, who cried with her. She heard the two gentlemen mount their horses hastily, and ride away at full gallop, and then the chariot rolled up to the door. " O, I '11 go too !" cried Bonnybel, starting up. " I would die of suspense here ! Come, sister !" And breaking away from Helen, she hastily descended, just as the colonel and Aunt Mabel were entering the coach. Helen followed, and they soon reached " Flower of Hun dreds." The colonel and Aunt Mabel went to St. John's chamber, the young ladies remaining in the sitting-room. Bonnybel resemWed a statue ; she did not move or speak, but, from time to time, her vacant eyes were raised to the pictures they had looked upon together. As the slow step of the colonel was heard descending the stairs, she started, her cheeks flushed she rose, and hastened to the door. " How is he ?" she said, in a low tone. "Badly hurt, but not dangerously," returned the colonel " the wound was got in a duel with that man Lin don, at MISS BONNYBEL. 281 Jamestown island ; the letter which you wrote, ray child, before the assembly, turned the weapon, and, in all proba bility, saved his life. The doctor and his friends are now with him, and they think that a month's confinement will be all." Bonnybel drew along, labored breath, went slowly to the window, looking forth on the river, and there she remained without turning her head. ' She was crying like a child, but they were tears of joy. CHAPTER LIV. TWO HEAETS. ST. JOHN had a vigorous constitution, and his wound soon ceased to make him suffer acutely. The doctor directed entire quiescence for some time, however, and thus the young man was confined to his room and his bed still. It was a great favor, which he at last obtained, to be per mitted to rise, and lie, in his dressing gown, on a couch in the drawing-room, and while Lindon was still turning and tossing with fever, in his close quarters in town, St. John was inhaling the breath of leaves and flowers. Many friends flocked to cheer his hours of weariness, and we need not say that the Vanely family were not remiss. Tom Alston assumed his most foppish air to make him laugh ; Jack Hamilton told a hundred stories of fox hunt ing and frolicking ; Captain Waters related endless anec dotes of his campaigns. With shoulders drooping, and dreamy looking eyes, as he thrummed on his chair, the wor thy soldier recalled, for his companion's amusement, a thou* sand tales and remembrances. He made his brilliant and joyous youth rise again ; he beat, or was beaten again by the French ; he fought all his battles over with sighs or careless laughter* 282 MH But of all the friendly and sympathizing faces which gath ered round him, during those long hours of suffering and weakness, there was one which contributed more powerfully to the young man's recovery than all the rest. We need scarcely say that this was the face of Bonnybel. Claiming her privilege of cousin and old playmate, tho young lady, throwing aside all ceremony, came almost daily, with her mother and sisters, to see the invalid, and St. John experienced in her society a charm which seemed to make him stronger day by day, as though by the influence of magic. Bonnybel was no longer the coquettish and mischievous little fairy, such as we have seen her in former pages of this history. She appeared suddenly to have changed her entire character. She no longer laughed and jested at every thing and nothing. All the little pouts, and " spites," and ironies, and angers, which had made her society so piquante, dis appeared. She became suddenly an earnest woman, full of pity and sympathizing tenderness, arid very soon a criti cal observer might have seen, dawning in her eyes, and on her tell-tale cheeks, the evidences of a warmer and more profound emotion the imperceptible light, and rosy dawn, of a true woman's faithful love. They spent hours and hours together, beneath the open window, through which came the breath of vernal fields and summer flowers, and Bonnybel seemed never weary gazing at the fine landscape. From the lofty hill, the wooded banks of the great river, studded with white mansions, embowered in green foliage, stretched far away, and disappeared in the mists of the horizon ; the broad current glittered with the snowy sails of sea-bound barks or those returning home from distant lands ; the forests, day by day, assumed a deeper nnd more beautiful emerald ; the summer came apace, com pleting with its warmth and fuller radiance, the influence of the fresh spring, and in the heart of the young lady, also, all those vague emotions of the past cnme gradually to combing arnl r:-vM into the warm summer of love. MTSS BONNYBEL. . 28>, It is ont of our power to trace, with greater distinctness, the successive steps by which the girl approached this su preme point in the life of a woman. We would not, if we could. Such topics should not be lightly handled. A poet says: "Two happier lovers never met In dear and talk-charmed privacy. The memories of happier hours Are like the cordials pressed from flowers And madden sweetly. I impart Nought of the love talk I remember, For May's young pleasures are best hid From the cold prudence of December, Which clips and chills all vernal wings ; And love's own sanctities forbid, Now, as of old, such gossippings In halls, of what befalls in bowers." ''->-', ..:.',: We prefer to simply state the fact that the result "of those hours of quiet talk, or more expressive silence, was an affec tion, on the part of the young lady, as warm and true as that of her lover. Doubtless it commenced in her woman's pity for suffering, and tender sympathy for him who suf fered, but ere long this sympathy was needless, for he grew stronger day by day; still the feeling of the yonrig lady deepened. No word had been spoken by either, but the language of the eyes is superior to all words. All around them soon perceived what they thought so wholly concealed, and by a series of accidents, Mr. St. John's visitors were all called away when Bonnybel came to see him. They would talk alone for hours, the fresh breeze moving her bright curls, or bringing back the color to his pale thin cheeks, and then they would part with a long look, which needed no words to express its meaning. Tt was one evening when, having arisen from his sick conch, and received permission to ride out, St. John went with Bonnybel to Vanely, that he found the moment, 284 MISS KONNYBEL. It was a lovely evening, and the sun was just setting, as they drew near the old hall. In the east, a luminous halo preceded the rising of the moon, and a single star, suspended, like a lamp of fire, in the rosy atmosphere, delicately scintil lated, gathering clearer radiance as the purple margin of the sunset grew more pale. In a moment, the two hearts beat together ; he under stood what had angered and pained him so much ; she had loved him and expected him to return ; her suffering had been greater than his own. They reached the old hall, and now, when the pale, weak young man assisted her from the saddle, she did not pout or reprimand him. The curious moon, looking down, saw a man holding closely to his breast a woman a woman who smiled through her tears that was all. They had plighted their troth. CHAPTER LV. WHICH COMMENCES THE SECOND PORTION OF THE HISTORY, WITH the words which we have just written, we should be glad to conclude our history. The young and kind- hearted, everywhere, would thank us, for, to this class, noth ing is so pleasant as happiness and sunshine. St. John would be remembered as one happy in the possession of a true- hearted woman ; Bonnybel, as the bride of the man whom she preferred, above all the world, for her husband. But, alas! human life is not made up entirely of sunshine. It is often when the day is brightest, that the dark folds of the thunder cloud sweep from the horizon, and blacken the most brilliant landscape. It was so in the lives of thesa lovers, and the duty of their historian is to tell all he knows. in some points of view, perhaps, this duty is of advantage MI8S BONNTBEL. 28ft to the history. For this volume has two themes, two aims . the story of a man and a woman ; the history, also, of a period in the annals of a nation. We have followed the steps of these two persons toward the point where their hands clasped ; we have witnessed the gradual narrowing of the space which separated two lands from the battle-field, where hearts, long united, would be torn asunder, where squadrons would clash, and blood flow like water. Let us now look again on the columns marching to the conflict, from which a new world was to rise, like a colossal form of Victory, its face to the morning and the stars of glory on its brow. Let us also see what befell the two main personages of the history. There are clouds and sunshine in both pictures. For a month, St. John was wholly and completely happy. If, before, the whole world appeared brighter and lovelier in his eyes, it was now wholly transfigured, for he waa blessed with the fruition of his dearest wish. Like the sun shining out after a storm, his present joy was more fresh and brilliant for the hours of gloom which had preceded it. The woman whom he loved, loved him in return, and every one at Vanely sincerely rejoiced. The young man had twined himself around the hearts of old and young, and the parents of the young lady hailed with joy the closer bond which was about to unite them to the young man ; he had been like a son always to them, now he would be really such. Bonnybel bore her " new honors" with some blushes, but a serene, tranquil happiness. All her wildness and mischief had departed ; she no longer laughed or jested ; she was content to be silent and happy. It was arranged that the marriage should take place at the end of summer, and the young lady and her companion had a hundred confidential talks on the arrangements which that event would make necessary. It was at last decided that, after a month spent at Vanely, they should go to "Flower of Hundreds," and settle down permanent 1 ?; thin 28G MISS BONNYBKL. Mr. St. John would be what he wished to be, an honesi country gentleman. He would cultivate his patrimonial acres, and never dream of Indians or war any more 1 His old ambition seemed to him, as he pondered and smiled now, like a dream of the night, a mere foolish fancy. Indians? That they should concern him was supremely ridiculous !" He had other things to think of his wife ! Thus a month fled away, and one morning the young man mounted "Tallyho" to go to Williamsburg, where he hp.3 to attend to some pecuniary matters, and see to having the old house of " Flower of Hundreds" refitted for the abode of its future mistress. " Are you sure you '11 not forget me ?" said Bonnybel, archly, and blushing, as he bade her farewell ; " a whole week ! what a long, long time !" " It is a century to me," he replied, gazing with pride and admiration on the girl ; " but I '11 try not to forget you, if you will promise me as much." The foollish, idle thought was not worth replying to, she said, smiling ; he would write to her ? " Every day could she think he would neglect it ?" And with a heavy heart the young man vaulted into the saddle. " Tallyho" departed at a gallop, but his master did not see the road before him. His head was turned back ward, his eyes fixed on a woman, who waved her white handkerchief ; at last the forest intervened ; they were parted for the first time since that moonlit evening. Let us now leave the happy fields of Yanely, and its cheer ful faces, and following St. John, reenter the old capital. From this center and heart flows already the fiery blood of revolution ; here, also, fell that cloud, which we have spoken of, on the young man who thought his life all sunshine. It was the afternoon of the first of August when St. John roiK- into Williamsburg and stopped at the Raleigh tiivern. As he approached the door, a concourse of gentlemen were issuing forth, and he recognized the members of the MISS BONNYfcfiL. 28/ House of Burgesses, which Dunmore had dissolved more than two months before. Suddenly he saw, in front of him, the stranger of the old church at Richmond. The stranger was talking with one of the members, but his clear, penetrating eye having caught sight of St. John, he ended his colloquy and approached the young man. " Welcome, friend," he said, in his deep, calm voice ; " I have not seen you of late, as was very naturaL You have recovered ?" " Yes, perfectly. So you knew of my accident ?" " Of course ; the whole province knows it. Your adver sary has just gotten out again." "Well, I'm glad of that, and accounts are closed, I think, between us. But this meeting, this assemblage !" " It is the first Virginia Convention. You arrive too late." " I am sorry, but I can at least compliment you on your foresight. This is the second prediction which you made ; both, I see, are now accomplished." " My prediction ?" said the stranger ; " it was scarcely such. Prophets are inspired, and speak from their inspira tion. I was simply informed in advance. I have an advan tage over you. To the uneducated eye of the mere looker on, Virginia advances blindly, and without knowing what she does ; to me, as to those who know, her whole career is the result of a logical, mathematical set of premises ; the ac complishment, in open day, of what Henry and the great leaders have resolved on in council."* " Ah, I understand I" " This was to do it is done," continued the stranger ; " the sword was drawn, the blow has now been struck. Do you know what the blow is ?" " Tell me." " This contention of delegates, elected by the people of Virginia, has just affirmed the action of the House, making common cause with the people of Boston to the very death, * Historical Illustrations, No. XXXIV. 288 MI8 "ONNTBKL. and breaking off wholly all commercial connection with Ki* gland." " That is well." " What remains is better. Do you remember that the articles of association, on the occasion of the dissolution, rec ommended a general congress ?" " I remember." " Well, that congress is now resolved on. Delegates have just been appointed : Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, George Washington, Patrick Henry, Richard Bland, Benja min Harrison, and Edmund Pendleton." " A noble array of names." " A constellation of glory and victory !" said the stranger, in his deep, earnest voice ; " our Virginia noblemen, by God's patent, not the king's ! Do you know the instruc tions they carry in their hands ? Listen to the ending I have it by heart : ' If the said General Gage conceives he is empowered to act in this manner, as the commander-in-chief of his Majesty's forces in America, this odious and illegal proclamation must be considered as a plain and full declara tion that this despotic viceroy will be bound by no law, nor regard the constitutional rights of his Majesty's subjects whenever they interfere with the plans he has formed for oppressing the good people of Massachusetts Bay, and, there fore, the executing, or attempting to execute, such procla mation will justify resistance and reprisal.' This is what the delegates of Virginia take to the general continental congress, to meet in Philadelphia on the 5th of September, and it is enough ! No matter whether 't is General Gage, or the government represented by him, which we are to re sist and execute reprisals on ! 1 defy a million casuists to change the issue when the cannon begin to roar !'* "You- are right," said St. John, thoughtfully, "it is really England which these instructions defy." " Nothing less," replied the stranger, opening a pamphlet which he carried folded in his hand, " and here is the defi ance at greater length." MISS BONNYP.^L. 289 " What is that ?" " See ! ' A Summary View of the Rights of British America."* " " By whom ? " Mr. Thomas Jefferson." " Ah ! the man of the mathematical logic, the irreverent genius, the overturner I" " Y~es, the pick-ax,- as Henry is the gunpowder. Take this pamphlet and read it, friend. See its noble sentiments : ' the whole art of government consists in the art of being honest !' Weigh attentively its inexorable logic, trading upon thrones and principalities ! See how I uttered the simplest truth when I told you that this man, Jefferson, would be one of the eagles of the storm ! In this pamphlet, which will probably cause his attainder for treason, the great issue is defined with irresistible vigor and unflinching ex actness ; these pages are the statement of the quarrel, the watch-word of resistance revolution !* Every moment that revolution advances ! We have looked for it almost with tears and groans ! Now it comes, with gigantic strides, as I speak ! Ten years ago, Patrick Henry said to me : ' Even now you may scent the odor of the coming storm !' Well, friend, that odor gathers closer and more intense, but it is not suffocating ! It fills the veins of thousands with fierce heat of thousands who are taking down their old swords and fiie arms. The gloomy cloud droops above, and the world lies in dai'kness, but wait, friend, wait 1 be not doubtful ! From this gloom will leap the lightning of an oppressed peo- j^e's indignation ; woe to those who are struck by the bolt !" " You speak in a voice which leaves no room for answer," said his companion. " I will take this pamphlet and read it ; but I fear I shah 1 be a worthless proselyte." " No, you belong to Virginia, and will take your part." St. John smiled, " Do you know why I think I shall not accomplish much, friend ?" he said. * Historical Illustrations, No. XXXV. V JJiK) " MISS BONNYBJEL. " No." " I am happy." And the young man's eyes wandered, with a tranquil light in them, toward the far south-west. "You have been frank with me, friend," he said t) the stranger; "you unrolled before me your whole past life I will not be so unfriendly as to conceal my own. I love and am beloved by the noblest woman in the land, and in her love I find the consummation of my hopes and dreams. Do you understand now why I am a bad instrument of revolution ?" And the young man looked at the stranger with an air of tranquil happiness. The stranger for a time did not speak, but gazing at his ^companion, seemed: to muse sadly. This expression of sad ness deepened into sorrow as he reflected, and at last, shak ing his head, he muttered, ' "Youth ! youth 1 what a grand thing it is I how full of trust!" . "What did you say ?"' asked St. John ; "speak out your thoughts." "Perhaps I had better not, friend," said the stranger, sadly ;" they are not happy thoughts." "Let me share at least your griefs." " I have none, and I only mused, as do all men who have seen wither and fade the blossoms and flowers of their dreams." r *' Speak, friend !" said St. John, " I wish to hear your thought." "It will not appear rational to you, but I may as well utteYit. Well, you think the future is clear and happy, do Voiinot?" " Yes." ^That you are assured of this happiness certain tc reap?" - * I think I am." " You think that no clouds can rise, no thunderbolts de scend ?" MISS BONNYfiEL. 291 " No clouds which love can not dissipate, no thunderbolts which happiness will not turn aside." The stranger shook his head. "I thought so once, too," he muttered, "but it came. Take care ! be not too certain ! Do not think that Heaven will permit you to withdraw yourself from the contest." St. John smiled. " You speak to a man demented by a possessing thought, a single image," he said ; " your words do not convince me." " Well, perhaps they had better have not been uttered. But the future is dark we know not what may happen. I see that for the present I have lost a coadjutor, for you are happy and content. If that happiness changes to sadness, that content to suffering and pain, then you will come back to the struggle from which you are HOAV taken. If that event happens, come and put your hand on my shoulder I will support you. My words seem idle, friend, but they may be the best rationality for you if the darkness comes. Do you see that tall house yonder rising above the suburbs ? That is my working place, you know, and there you will find me ! I hope you will not come. I trust I may be a mere raven, like Virgil's, croaking from the hollow tree ; but the future for all of us lies in the hand of God. Now I will take my leave, as I have much to attend to. I shall seo you again." And exchanging a grasp of the hand with St. John, the stranger left him, and disappeared in the moving throng be fore the door of the tavern. The young man looked after him with a sad smile. " There goes one who has suffered much," he muttered, " and he fears that I will suffer. He does not know the depth and security of my happiness, poor heart ! He doea not know that Bonnybel and myself are united by a tie which destiny itself is powerless to burst asunder !" He spoke with a smile, and so went into the Raleigl: '292 MISS BONNYBEL. CHAPTER LVI. HOW CAPTAIN WATERS PLUCKED ALL HIS QKE8K IT was on the afternoon of the next day that St. John, while going along with his head bent down, struck sud denly against an object approaching, as he was leaving, the Raleigh tavern. He raised his head and found that the object was Captain Waters, who had been going along in the same thoughtful way. There was this difference, however, between the musings of the friends; those of St. John were happy, while Cap tain Ralph was evidently sad. " I 'ra delighted to see you, my dear captain," said St. John,'holding out his hand, " and must beg your pardon foi nearly knocking you down. What news ?" The captain pressed his friend's hand with melancholy pleasure, and with a countenance elongated to an extent really deplorable, replied, sadly, "Absolutely nothing, my dear comrade, unless you call the convention here, and a dreadful disappointment I have suffered, news." "A dreadful disappointment 1" " Yes, my friend, nothing less," groaned the captain, " a real staggerer." "You pain me," said St. John, scanning the mortified face of his companion ; " come, be friendly, and tell me your trouble as I told you mine. Perhaps I can serve you as you served me." The captain shook his head. " Impossible, mon ami," he groaned, " actually impossi ble. Jtforbleu ! how black that sunshine is !" And the captain drew down the corners of his mouth, and, consequently, the midnight fringe which covered them, in a way which indicated actual despair. MISS BONNYBEL. 293 l *Yon look at me curiously, my boy," he s,i1d, after a mo ment ; " you lament my distress. You will lament it more when I tell you about it, and will see tlint you can't relieve it. I succeeded tolerably well in hatching that little affair between you and Lindon, who is just getting out again, but you can not reciprocate the favor. It has some relation to that little circumstance at Jamestown island, but the simi larity soon ends. You can't help me, miserable wretch that I am 1 You can not be of the least service to me !" And the captain groaned again. This time he almost sobbed. "I see you are dying to hear about it, comrade," he con tinued, after a disconsolate pause, " and I do n't mind tell ing you every thing. But let us go and get a cup of Canary I 'm choking." With which words Captain Ralph led the way into the domain of mine host of the Raleigh, and being supplied with what he demanded, drew St. John into a corner of the apartment, and sitting down, proceeded to his disappoint- ment. " Fancy me lounging yonder at home, mon ami," he said, " after seeing you well through that little affair with Lindon, and behold me, as the French lingo has it, idle, sombre, be coming gradually a prey to the blue devils. They assaulted me even when you were sick, and that 's why I told you all those adventures and wore out your patience with stories ' Do n't deny it, comrade, you are too polite. My own opinion is, that those narratives delayed your recovery at least a fortnight ! You smile you think I 'm a farceur I My friend, I am not ; I am plunged into despair. But to proceed." And taking another draught of the Canary, the soldier ^ighed and continued. " Back to Flodden once more, as I said, companion, I be came a prey to the blue imps, and all day long I thought of mthing but my disappointment in the matter of drawing Foy into a duel. In vain did madam, that paragon of wo- Z94 MISS BONNYBEL. men, endeavor to extract from me the origin of my low spirits. In vain did Master Ralph Waters, that noblest of urchins, and most indefatigable of dirt pie fabricators, climt up my knees, and beg for a caress. I motioned Madame Henriette away I sent Master Ralph to the nursery. Every day I grew thinner, and was rapidly becoming weary of life under the ungentlemanly persecution of that fellow, Foy, who has treated me abominably. You see it was his refusal to fight me, mon ami, which caused my melancholy, and I was in despair. "Well, things were in this condition, when, one morning I read in the 'Virginia Gazette,' that their honors, the del egates of the colony, would meet in convention in a day or two, at Williamsburg; and no sooner had I perused this announcement than a fortunate or unfortunate idea at once struck me. Foy had refused to fight me on the ground of his secretaryship. Now I would place myself on an equal ity with him, by becoming the secretary of the convention. Do n't you see ? I do n't mind saying I 'm rather proud ot the idea, and I proceeded immediately to put it into execu tion. I got a bundle of paper as big as a horse could carry, a fascine of pens, which Madame Henriette made by redao- ing all the geese on the plantation to a state of nature, and having thus prepared for my civil duties, the ink being left to the liberality of the convention, I hunted up my best sword, and spent an entire day in burnishing my accoutre ments. On the next morning I set out in my carriage, bid ding a triumphant adieu to that paragon of women, Madame Henriette, who was dying with curiosity her only failing, my friend and in due time I reached Williamsburg." The captain stopped to sip his Canary, in the midst of smiles from Mr. St. John. " I arrived just in time," continued the narrator, "and by the influence of my friends, secured the post of secretary of the convention, which I, however paid a deputy, an excel lent scrivener, to perform the duties of. You see, however I was de jure, as Jack Hamilton is fond of saying, the sec- MISS BONNYBEL. 29* retary, and I rubbed my sword again, until I could see my face in it. As to the paper and quills, the deputy took them, while I went after Foy. " I called at the palace his secretaryship was at Monte- bello, the residence, some six miles below town, of his Ex cellency, the noble Dunmore. I got into the saddle, and went to Montebello ; his secretaryship sent me word that he was engaged in important business with his lordship, and begged to be excused. You may know I came back in a furious bad humor, and so I remained until this morning. "I then heard that Foy had returned, and dressing my self in this elegant suit, and girding on this pretty little pa rade sword, I repeated my call at the palace. " I heard Foy say to the servant, ' Tell him, pest that he is ! tell him I have not returned !' The lackey was deliver ing this message when I pushed him aside, and went in. " Foy was sitting at his table, the same one, I doubt not, rnon ami, from behind which his Excellency scolded you, and from the pile of papers before him, I suppose he was busy. We look at each other for a moment, and Foy frowns. I smile and bow. " ' I am really distressed to disturb you, my dear Foy,' I say, ' but you will permit me to say that 't was scarcely friendly to deny yourself thus to an old comrade.' " ' I am busy, Captain "Waters,' he replies, with a grand air. " ' I thought Conolly was gone, my dear friend,' I say ; for, you see, I wanted to get him up to the point. Once aroused, I knew I had him. " At the words, ' I thought Conolly was gone,' his pale face flushes, as I expected, and he rises an 3 says, " ' Captain Waters, this is the third !>r fourth time you have been pleased to connect me wifti Major Conolly, his Excellency's agent ' " ' Ah! he is his Excellency's agent,' I interrupt ; * you ac knowledge it ?' **'J acknowledge nothing, sir!' he says, growing' hot at 296 MISS BONNYBEL. his blunder, 4 I only say that yonr persevering intrusion uj> on me, and your insinuations, are insulting, offensive, and such as I shall not longer endure !' " My dear St. John," continued the captain, smiling, " when Foy said that, growing red as he spoke, I felt a hap piness which I have not before experienced for a long time. I saw that I had fortunately come on him in an irritable moment, when the best of us, you know, can't keep cool, and I expected much from this circumstance. " * My dear Foy,' I say, ' do you really consider that ques tion insulting? Well, I'll tell you in confidence, I meant it to be so ; not in any bad spirit, for I have a positive affec tion for you, and would not wound your feelings for worlds, but, you see, I have set my heart on fighting you.' " I said all this with so much good feeling, that my gen tleman saw, I suppose, that I uttered the truth. He sat down, coldly, and I read, in his keen eye, that he felt he had all to lose and nothing to gain by the encounter, and that his best revenge for my insult was to take no notice of it. " ' Sir,' he said, in his grand way, ' you seem aetually de mented, and did I not know the eccentricity of your charac ter, I should not suffer this offense to pass unanswered. I shall not so proceed, however, sir, and I request that this interview may end. I have repeatedly assured you that my post of secretary, in the service of his Excellency, renders it impossible for me to accept your defiance ; you know me perfectly well, sir, and are doubtless aware that I place much restraint upon my feelings in refusing.' " ' Know you ! my dear Foy !' I reply, ' like the word of command ! You 're as brave as steel, and I offer you a lit tle affair whereby you may prove it to these stupid Vir ginians, persons wholly ignorant of your valorous deeds at Minden, and a thousand other places.' " ' I repeat, sir,' he says, coldly, ' that this duel is impot gible.' ** ' Why ? On account of your secretaryship, oJi ?' MISS BONNYJJEL. 20* " * Yes, sir.' " ' That makes the combat unequal ? " 4 It does, sir.' " ' Well,' I say, triumphantly, ' suppose we stood on equa grounds, would things be changed ?' " ' Yes, sir, and as I said before, it would give me extreme pleasure to cut your throat,' replies Foy, making me the most elegantly sneering salute. " I did not notice it ; I got ready my blow. " ' It gives me real happiness to inform you, my dear Fey,* I say, ' that the equality which you mention really exists. I am secretary of the convention of Virginia, and here is a parchment evidence of it, sworn to by three witnesses I added the third for safety. This paper, my dear Foy, proves what I say, and now I suppose you will no longer refuse. Come, let us make the arrangements; I'm dying to learn the coup of Reinfels, and if I kill you, I shall bless your memory.' " My gentleman looks, with the strongest astonishment, on the paper, and says, " * Captain Waters, you seem really crazy.' " ' My dear Foy,' I reply, smiling, * you seem to me abso lutely stupid.' " ' Captain Waters, I shall suffer no more insults !' says my gentleman, flushing. 'Take back your parchment, sir, the evidence of your participation in a treasonable assemblage ; take it back, sir, and I advise you to destroy it. Otherwise you will suffer by it when the government makes its investi gations into the riotous conduct of the inhabitants of the colony. I give you this advice, sir, as an old companion, and I refuse to have you arrested, as I might, because we have fought and slept together. Go, captain ! let us pro ceed different ways; at present, I repeat that I neither can nor will fight you, but if it is any consolation, I announce to you that, in all probability, the time will soon arrive when I shall show you your favorite coup. I do not pretend to think that we are not enemies; we are, for we espouse ilif- 2&i? MISS BONNYBEL. ferent sides. If you can kill me, do so; when the \irua comes, I h^ve good hopes of performing that ceremony for yourself!' " And bowing, with an air of the most odious elegance, the confounded fellow bent over his papers again. I had nothing to reply, my dear friend," finished the captain. " I could not force Foy to recognize the validity of my appoint ment as secretary, when he conscientiously doubted. I was beaten, driven back, disappointed, conquered completely. I only shook my head, and bidding Foy adieu, came away. At the door I met his Excellency, whom I saluted, and so I was returning, soiTOwfully, when I ran up against you. Miserable and detestable fate !" added the captain, "which pushes me eternally away from this snake. But even in the depths of my disappointment, I'll not despair. I '11 yet wait for happier times." The captain finished his Canary, and rose, St. John, hav ing listened with the utmost attention, and not without laughter, to his narrative. " Perhaps resignation is the best, my dear captain " he said, " and I can feel for you in your distress. I have lis tened to your relation with much entertainment, and 'tis certainly anothei touch added to Captain Foy in my imagin ation. He seems to me a mixture of the soldier and the diplomatist, the tiger and the lamb." " Exactly," said the captain, " that hits him to the very letter." " Well, may be his lamb's fleece will fall off and he will show his teeth. Let us hope for the best !" And, laughing, St. John rose and followed the soldier to the street. As they reached the portico of the tavern, St. John saw Lindon pass, and the two adversaries exchanged a ceremo nious salute. On the part of St. John, this salute was per fectly polite and frank ; on the part of Lindon, formal and Almost haughty, his dark eyes glittering with a sinister 035- MISS BONNYBEL. 299 pression in his pale, cold face, as he passed on and disap peared. " There 's another of the snakes, if I 'm not greatly mis taken," said the captain, " and I advise you to keep a good look-out when you pass dark corners. A man with an eye like that can't possibly be honest, and now, my dear friend, I must return home. To our next meeting !" And the friends separated the captain to mount his horse, St. John to attend to the business which brought him to Williamsburg. CHAPTER LVIL SOME OLD FKIENDS AT LEAST THE AUTHOB HOPES SO.* ST. JOHN'S business was nothing more nor less, says our author, than some pecuniary arrangements in connection with his proposed embarkation upon the seas of matrimony, and the agent in these arrangements was a certain Mr. A. Z. Smith, factor. . We should like to pause in our narrative, and once more enter the small warehouse of the worthy factor, salute the round-faced shopboy, who, as of old, presides with smiles over the domain of tin pans and flitches, whips and boxes of tobacco, in perennial youth. We should like to enter the little counting-room beyond, where Mr. A. Z. Smith, as in old days, transacts his real business with his courtly custom ers, and taste his rum, and see the picture of his mustachioed ancestor, and admire his great ledgers chronicling the busi ness of a lifetime. But, unfortunately, Mr. A. Z. Smith, factor, is not destined to affect the current of our narrative, which runs in other channels past the little shop. Mr. St. John was with Mr. A. Z. Smith a portion of every day, and the smiling little factor made him his best bows * The worthy author of this chapter seems to refer to some scenes and vents in a previous hirtory. 300 MISS BONHYBEL. when he appeared, and went away; that salute jf familiar respect which the wealthy bourgeois bestowed at the period on one of the gentry. After these business interviews Mr. St. John was idle for the rest of the day, and one morning he thought he would take a gallop into the country for the benefit of the air. He accordingly mounted Tallyho, and putting spur to that spirited animal, was soon beyond the limits of the to'vn, careering through the summer forest, in the direction of Captain Ralph's. Tallyho seemed to think that the choice of the road was left to himself, and his master soon found that he had di verged from the highway, and that they had arrived in front of a certain mansion known as the " Trap," where resided a certain Mr. Jack Hamilton. " Well," said the young man, smiling, " why not go in and see Jack ? I 'm idle, and I '11 stop." With which words he halted and dismounted before the mansion. An old gray-haired African came, respectfully, to take the bridle of one of the new generation, and this bridle was loftily relinquished by the perennial old nobleman of the stables to a grotesque individual about four feet high, ad dressed by the euphonious name of Crow. Mr. Crow still rolled in his gait, distended his large popped eyes, grinned from ear to ear, and if he did not turn sum raersets, danced as before, with like danger of trenching on the rights of his sweeping coat skirts. Mr. Hamilton received his friend with great cordiality, and laughed heartily when, over a bottle of claret, Mr. St. John related the interview between Captain Waters and the secretary. " The fact is, my dear St. John," he said, " our friend, Waters, is a trump, and sooner or later, I predict, will run the secretary through the body. Eh ? Do n't you think so ?" " Not unlikely." MISS BONNYBEL. 301 " He '11 do his work better than you did in the case of Linden." " I 'in very glad of the result in that case, my dear Ham ilton." "Glad?" " Certainly ; you see, I 'm naturally indisposed to shed blood, and I was forced into that duel. ] begin to think all duels folly though, and there 's the whole matter*** Hamilton laughed. " I understand," he said ; " there 's a little angel who 's been talking to you, doubtless come, do n't blush, my boy, she certainly is an angel, and if I 'm not mistaken, you wish to monopolize her." St. John stopped blushing, and smiled. " See how the world is given to scandal," he said. " Scandal," exclaimed his friend ; " do you deny it ?" " I will reply by asking you a question, my friend." " Ask it, Harry, my boy." "Don't you understand the real motive of my visits to Vanely ? " I think I do," observed Mr. Hamilton, triumphantly ; "you go thither in order" "To see Colonel Vane on important business! Yes, ] perceive you know my affairs thoroughly !" And Mr. St. John concluded with a burst of laughtei which caused Jack Hamilton to look rather sheepish. " I 've plainly got the better of you, my dear fellow," said St. John, "and now I shall leave you to continue my ride. I want exercise come, go with me." " Willingly ; I have a little message for the squire at the Hall yonder let us go there." Mr. St. John assented, and very soon the two friends were in the saddle and on their way to Effingham Hall. The old mansion ere long rose before them, and they passed be- neatii the grout trees, and stopped at the door. On the portico, the old squire, now grown gray, but In-t \ and determined as before, was arguing vigorously wit 1 : his ,502 MISS BONNYBKL. old neighbor, Mr. Lee, on whose head had also descended the snows of those ten additional winters. As in long past days, the squire indignantly denied the propositions of his friend before they were enunciated, and, in contrast to all this violent discussion of the gray heads, at their feet a child was busily weaving larkspurs those little flowers resem bling goblin hoods into a wreath, intent upon her toil and wholly indifferent to the progress of the argument. Mr. Champ Effingham and Madam Clare came forth to welcome their friends the one calm and serene, the other smiling and bright and behind these, Mr. William Effing- ham, raised his intelligent head, and shot a stately smile ; one hand extended courteously, the other supporting a form leaning on his arm. Before this latter, says our worthy author, with her joy and beauty, and perennial loveliness and goodness ; before Kate Effingham, now as in old days, the queen of purity and meekness, the present chronicler bends to the very ground, and takes his hat off and does homage, as in pres ence of an empress. Not in vain has his pen, gliding through the hours, and taking him from present scenes to older days and figures ; not in vain has his pen labored, as the painter's brush does, to delineate the lovely visions of the past, when this fair form remains to speak of him. Among those faces and characters which he tried to draw, and which he is fain to hope, the readers of the present chronicle will have also looked on among all the figures of his former history, not one contents him but this maiden. Everywhere something is to add to make the drawing worthier, something to take away, an outline to round, a trait to expand ; but here he can add nothing. Not from his idle imagination could this picture have proceeded this vision of purity and joy. A portrait painter simply, he can claim no laurels such as are justly due to the great artist originating from an inner impulse something new and beau tiful. Old letters, yellow and faded, and crumbling into dust, told of that fairest maiden ; and her portrait yonder MISS UONNYCFX. 003 iaughing on my wall, spoke audibly the words I read, with pensive smiles, from the old sheet her snowy lingers rested on. I read those dear old letters often letters commen cing, " Dearest Bonnybel," and ending, " Your own Kate" and thus, with these memorials, I knew what loveliness and goodness the original of the portrait was endowed with. Then with this image of the maiden of the last century, blended the fair figure of a child of the present age a child of such rare and touching purity and truth, that thinking of her now, I grow young again almost, and live in the scenes of other years bright years which have flown, but left be hind the aroma of their joy and tenderness, and sunshine. Thus I am satisfied, as far as that is possible in any instance, with the picture of this maiden I have nothing to add, no trait to change. I shall never do the like again, and I dare not introduce her into the present history, or even so much as repeat her letters. As she passes before me smiling and beautiful, with the light on her hair and in her tender eyes ; as she glides on thus like a vision or a dream ; I stand aside as she moves, and only smile as I look, and return to that life which is poor and cold without her, for it holds no figure adequate to represent heir beauty ! After this fashion does our worthy old chronicler dis course upon the subject of Mrs. William Effingham, which lady seems to have been an extreme favorite with him. In the former portion of this MSS. this feeling of complaisant satisfaction with his work more than once appears, and as, doubtless, the character of Miss Kate Effingham shone fairer for him than it can for the reader, we may pardon his rhap sody, as the harmless exhibition of that fondness for youth ful recollections, which frequently characterizes elderly gen tlemen. "We should extract the author's account of Mr. St. John's visit to Effingham Hall, which he describes at length, repeat ing all the conversation of the personages, but unfortunate ly our narrative leads us to more important scenes. The friends remained to dinner, which was seived at an 304 MISS BONNYBEL. emly hour, and then departing, the two gentlemen returner! homeward Mr. Hamilton to the "Trap," and Mr. St. John toward Williamsburg. His route lay in the direction of the old field school, and just as he came opposite that sylvan academe, Uncle Jimmy Doubleday terminated the toil of the day, and gave the summons of dismissal to his flock of chirping youngster? male and female. CHAPTER LVHL THB SECOND WARNING. THE young man was in an idle mood, and attracted by the fresh faces of the children, always favorites with him, halted, and turning in his saddle, followed their gay gam bols with a pleased smile. It was not long before a figure detached itself from the merry flock of boys and girls, and this little figure ap proached the fence, and made Mr. St. John a smiling curte- sey. It was Blossom, and the young lady seemed to experience much pleasure in again meeting with her friend. The man and the child had scarcely exchanged greetings when Uncle Jimmy Doubleday himself made his appearance, framed, like a gigantic pedagogue, in the doorway of the old field school. Seeing Mr. St. John, Uncle Jimmy camo toward that gentleman, walking, with the dignity of a patri arch, in the midst of his family and tribe. " You behold a pleasing sight, my dear Mr. St. John," said Uncle Jimmy, taking off his great goggles, and extend ing the hand holding them toward the flocks of children. " I hold not with the heathen philosophers that children are as ciphers in the state ; to my mind, they are meadow flow ers w*4ch gladden the hearts of those who look upon them. MISS BOSNYBEL. 305 and in all the various relations of our life, wield mighty in fluences." Uncle Jimmy stooped, in a dignified way, to button a negligent " point" of his splatterdashes as he spoke, and then pulled his long waistcoat again carefully to his knees. " I think with you, Mr. Doubleday," replied the young man smiling, " that tliey are great blessings ; their affection often outweighs that of older persons." " Yes, that is true," said Uncle Jimmy, placing a fatherly hand on the sunny curls of little Blossom, who stood de murely by him, one foot based firmly on the ground, the other poised upon the toe of her slipper the neat stockings, without crease or fold, beneath the short skirt ; " that ia true, Mr. St. John, and in my little friend, Blossom, here, who seems to know you, I recognize a treasure of goodness and affection. Nay, do n't blush, my child ; I like to praise you for your dutiful and obedient conduct. I only wish you would give a little of your character to that young scamp, Paul, who narrowly escaped the birch this morning." And Uncle Jimmy smiled. Before Blossom could defend her sweetheart, Uncle Jim my felt a hand on the skirt of his long coat, and turning round, beheld the smiling physiognomy of Master Paul. . " I say, Uncle Jimmy," said that young man, " I did n't mean to hit you on the nose, shooting that pea. I was only trying Bob Dandridge's popgun, and I did n't mean for it to go off." ' " Behold, Mr. St. John, the depravity of the character of children," said Uncle Jimmy, with philosophic severity; " this youth is really incorrigible ; reproving does not af fect him in the least ; he always begs off in a way which in dicates a natural genius for the forum." And Uncle Jimmy frowned at Paul, after which he turned away his head to smile. "Whether Master Paul saw the smile or not, we can not say, but he uttered the observation, " Uncle Jimmy, me and Blossom like you very much," after which the ycungstei 300 MISS BONNYBEL. ran to his pony, ar..l putting Blossom up behind him, gal loped off toward " Roseland," her father's cottage. " Such is the nature of children," said Uncle Jimmy, smiling and taking a pinch of rapparee, which he offered to his friend, " they laugh at every thing." " I think 't is a better philosophy than groaning," said St. John, " Doubtless, but many disappointments await them; lifo is a hard enemy. A decade from this moment and they will change their merriment to sorrow, their smiles to sighing." St. John smiled. " Then your theory questions the possibility of perfect happiness to adults," he said. " Almost," replied Uncle* Jimmy. " Suppose a grown man, as this child will be in the de cade you speak of; suppose such a man is loved devotedly by a woman, all purity and truth," said the young man, smiling with his happy secret ; " suppose the whole treasure. of a beautiful and nobie nature is his own ; is not that some thing like the happiness you deny men ?" "Uncle Jimmy shook his head. " Time is uncertain," he said ; " woman more uncertain than time." " Some are," said St. John, laughing at his companion'N ignorance ; " others are the pole stars of the earth." Uncle Jimmy shook his head again. " It is well to look keenly to see whether the star we hav<: taken for the polar light, is not in the constellation of the Serpent Scorpio, my friend. Truly hath it been said by Horatius, u . ' uxorem cum dote fidemque et amicos Et genus, et formam, regina Pecunia, donat ;' meaning, as you doubtless comprehend, that women are oft swayed by worldly considerations. But let me not seem uncharitable. Perhaps grief has soured me and clouded my eves. It is the old who chant the MISS BONNYBEL. 307 " ' Prsecipo lugubres Cantus, Melpomene,' and beating their breasts cry, ' Oh, Postumus ! Postum us ! how the flying years glide away : And Uncle Jimmy sighed and was silent, betaking him self, for consolation, to his snuff again. In taking the box from his pocket, he dropped a letter, which came out with it, and as this circumstance did not at tract his attention, St. John pointed to it. Uncle Jimmy stooped to pick it up rather hastily, and the young man's eye chanced to fall npon the direction. He smiled, for it was in a lady's handwriting. " That seems to be from a fair friend is it not ?" he said, laughing. " Y-es," observed Uncle Jimmy, rather shyly, " it is from a friend of mine." " A lady?" "Well, yes, my dear Mr. St. John, but the affair is sim ply Platonic simply that, upon my word, sir." And Uncle Jimmy put the letter in his pocket. St. John did not say that the preaching and practicing of the philo sopher badly agreed, but lie thought so, and thus triumphed. After a little more friendly conversation, they parted, and Uncle Jimmy returned toward the old field school house, now deserted. Mr. St. John continued his way back to Williamsburg, smiling. " What an amusing illustration of human philosophy that was !" he said, " but how strange that thus, for the second time in three or four days, I have listened to a voice uncon sciously bidding me distrust my happiness, and prepare for a change, for misery. The other day it was, ' Heaven will not permit you to rust in the sloth of happiness at such a crisis ;' to-day it is, ' Woman are scorpions !' What sad 308 M I S3 philosophy ! Ah, they do not, know that the gift . f this no ble love romes straight from heaven, and will purify me; they do not know that whatever ether women mny be, this one is nearly an angel in faithfulness and truth. A change in hei love ! I should sooner look to see the star of even ing yonder dart from its orbit, and fade into nothing. How unhappy must these poor hearts have been, to doubt the certainty of my happiness !" And smiling tranquilly, the young man went upon bis way. CHAPTER LIX. HOW ST. JOHN DREW HIS SWORD, AND STRUCK AT A SHADOW. " WlLLUiiSBiraG, Tuesday " MY DEAR TOM, " I send you the contents of your memorandum, as far as I could procure the articles, and am sorry to hear that you are indisposed. I trust 'tis but trifling. I might beg your pardon for detaining Dick, and for sending an inferior quality of hair powder, but I have been too much troubled to have my right wits about me. " Instead of trying to think of some news, which 't is cer tain this execrable place do n't afford, I will proceed to tell you the origin of my trouble. I do n't know if it 's a natural weakness, or springs from the depth of the feeling I experi ence, but I think it will relieve me to unburden my trouble to a true friend like yourself, and perhaps you will be able to give me some cheering view of the affair. " I will announce the cause of my trouble at once. I have just returned from Vanely, and the person that I love more than the whole world has received me almost with coldness. " Can you imagine the possibility of that ? Do n't you MISS BOXNYBEL. 30 think I am out of 1113' senses? Yon know, as so inu> M friend deserved to know, the whole of my position there, and ever}' thing; and this knowledge will make you doubt my sanity. When you have heard my narrative, however, which I write with a heavy heart, you will be foi ced to be lieve me. "I had been here attending to my affairs for more than a son'night, when one morning, having dispatched my esti mates for the building up yonder, you know sooner than I expected, I felt an absolute thirst for Tier society, and de termined to gallop all the way to Vanely to have a little of It. Out of her presence I only breathe, I think I do not live, or enjoy existence. I had felt indeed for these seven days during which I was absent, that the world would be but a poor place for me without her ; that I would not care to live ; and away from her now for even this small space, it seemed to me that the sun did not shine as brightly, and that even the orioles which flew over the roof tops sang almost harshly. I 'm not ashamed to say I love her with my whole heart and soul, and I had to go and see her again ! " Well, I went, and although she received me with happy smiles, I thought I discerned some constraint, and even a certain coldness in her air. I make you my father confessor for the nonce, and I pour my story into your friendly ear. It troubles me, Tom, and I have to speak. I could not have imagined this thing making a buggaboo for my private annoyance I discerned this coolness plainly, for the eyes of a man who feels as I do toward her, grow supernaturally penetrating, his ears nervously sensitive to the most deli cate variations in the tone of voice. It seems to me that since I have loved this beautiful girl, I have received the faculty of plunging into her very soul, and often I have read her very thoughts, and replied in such a way as to startle her. I can not explain this thing, which I blunder out without expressing my meaning in the least; but I mean that every shadow passing over the mirror of her mind seems to clou>l my own ; every tappy thought in her OJ .U MISS BOXNYBKL. bosom seems to be transferred to my own beart. I share her disquiet, partake of her joy, and down to the least sen timent, the most minute and varying emotion what af fects her affects me, even before she has spoken for I love her. " Whether you understand this rhapsodical passage or not, it contains none the less the very simplest truth, and the sympathy thus existing between us made me at once aware that in some way her feeling for me had been modi fied. The family did not observe the least change ; and the explanation of that fact was very simple. They might have attributed a much greater constraint to mere bashfuluess at her position, always an embarrassing one, I am told, to young girls. Certain it is they saw nothing. " As I have told you over and over for my distress makes me garrulous and disconnected I saw it distinctly. The sailor sees and notes with attention and anxiety the clpud no larger than the hand of a child on the far horizon of the sea, while the landsman only looks up when the rain begins to fall, or the thunder mutters and the lightnings flash ! The reason is, that, to the latter, it is but a question of rain which he may avoid by entering his house, while the re mote speck for the sailor contains storm and tempest which may plunge his craft beneath the hungry waves, and himself with it. "I weary you, Tom, with my poor wandering words, but I repeat that this troubles me. I saw in her eyes that inde finable shadow which indicates a change ; there was no longer the same sunny frankness, the same joy and abandonment, if I may use the word. With a smile, assumed to hide my disquiet, I asked her if my absence had tried her affection my ' lengthy sojourn in foreign lands,' I said, making a jest, you .see, or attempting to and she, with a smile which I thought as forced as my own, said, ' Oh no, how could I say such a thing ?' But the constraint remained, and after a hundred attempts to fathom the mystery, I gave up in de spair. MISS BONNYBEL. 311 " I remained from the evening of one day to .lie morning of the third day. I think the constraint grew almost to coldness before I departed, and, as I write, I am greatly dis tressed. You see, Tom, this is no trival affair with me. I have built all my future on the broad foundation of this woman's love, and I can not love lightly. Where the heart 'a given with me, it 's given for ever, and this troubles me. Formerly nothing troubled me ; but I am changed now. I no longer look upon life with that careless and almost dis dainful indifference with which I once regarded it. You may have heard me say a thousand times that nothing could annoy me long or deeply, that I was ' sufficient for myself,' that the world and its inhabitants might go their way and I would go mine, unmoved by their opinion good or bad, unaffected either by their love or their hatred at least v greatly. Well, now, I say that no longer. I wish every, body's good opinion ; for the expression of this good opinion doubtless gives her pleasure. Can't you understand my meaning ? Can't you see how a man who formerly laughed at the idea of being moved in the least by a world of women, now fixes his eyes upon a single one's face, and lives only when he thinks of her or 's with her ? I am even proud of my bondage, for I know that the chain binding me binds her, that my love is as much to her as her own is to me at least it was the other week. " I write the words with a heavy heart. I tell you, Tom, there 's no doubt about the coldness. The absence of her former frankness and joy was, and is, proof strong as holy writ. Something has come between us, I know not what. Write what you think of it ; I am blind, I confess it. Like that seer of the middle age, who bartered all his lore for love, and gave up willingly his power over the invisible denizens of earth and air, to be a simple mortal, and lean on a woman's bosom, as her equal and love ; like him, I have lost, perhaps, my penetrntion ; I am troubled, it may even be, by a chimera, for I coufess I begin to distrust myself. If she is untrue, then all things are false, and, with the rest, 312 MISS r>o:>.sYEL. my intellect. Friend, help me to extricate ny*elf from this web, which seems to be even now closing round me, wrapping me closer and closer in its mysterious folds. I scarcely know what I write, and I doubt if it is sense ; but there is something, I know not what I feel it ! I breathe it! There is some evil at work upon my life! I am not superstitious, but it seems to me that a cloud is rising some where, with which I am to struggle, though I can not gra^p it. Have you never felt this irrational foreboding ? If' you have not, you will laugh at me, but your laugh will not affect me. You must first tell me why here, in the morning, with the sunlight around me, with my nerves perfectly healthful, my pulse beating with its wonted regularity ; why thus, in perfect health of mind and body, I feel as if a dark fnte were at work upon my life, travailing to bring forth my misery! "That you will think me insane after this full and unre served expression of what I meant to conceal, even from you, friend, I fully expect. Whatever you think, I can not complain. I frankly confess that I have given you but sorry and foolish grounds for my disquiet. " What ! I hear you say, St. John become superstitious, trembling at such bugbears of the fancy as are only fit to frighten nervous women ! St. John, the careless fellow with the stalwart shoulders, the iron nerves, the smiling lips ; who touched his sword hilt, and boasted that he was ready to meet any foe, and would have laughed in derision at the very intimation of imaginary disquietude ! St. John, now crouching and shrinking under an invisible lash, wielded by airy hands ! St. John a-trembling, like a baby, at the sight of a buggaboo, and whining out mysterious influences! secret warnings ! I hear you say that, and I flmcy you shaking your head, and thinking that from this time forth, you can never trust in human boastings, or, any man, how ever healthy 's nerves. Well, friend, be it as you will ; I do not try to convince you I yield. Say, if you choose, that I am mastered by a dream, a vision of the night, a very shadow and chimera. But I am none the more convinced MISS BONNYBEL. 313 none the less mastered by my insanity, if you like ILC word. I toll yon, friend, earnestly, strongly ! with my whole force! that, even ns I write, this influence is growing, increasing, darkening terribly! More 'than ever, there is in the full sunshine a sad splendor, gloomier than midnight ! More than ever, I thrill with a nameless dread ! I seem to see de scending on me a huge ebon cloud ! A thrill runs through my veins my hair stands up ! there are forms around me ; one, that of a woman with cold eyes, and a sneer which chills me ! There ! before me as I write ! Away ! ****** Well " I shall end this letter, my dear friend, with words less fanciful than those above. Perhaps there is something wrong with my nerves ; I am out of health, it may be ; I am sick. For, after writing those hurried words there, it seemed to me that an enemy stood beside me, advanced toward me a something, I know not what, which matched itself against me ! 'Tis gone now, but to prove to you how profoundly I was moved, look at that blot Upon the paper. It was caused by my pen falling from my trembling fingers, as 1 rose to my feet, drawing my sword completely from the scabbard, and striking madly at the air. Doubtless I am sick, for even now my breast seems contracting, and I breathe heavily. There, >t is doubtless the old story of Marius cutting at his visions when he was dying the fever moving him. " Yet my pulse beats regularly again ; I see myself in the mirror yonder, and rny complexion is healthful ; I do not seem sick. I must be, however, for no traces of rny deliriun remain I write calmly. Keep my letter as a striking ex hibition of the power of the imagination. " I will end with a few words of news. His Excellency is said to regard the convention of the delegates with sido looks and suspicion, and to threaten. But he will do noth ing. All your friends are well. At Vanely^ every ono is well, I tlink, and there is nothing now. The Italian l no one observed but a certain Mr. St. John, gifted, fo| 316 MISS BONNYI5KT. the nonce, with nautical penetration to discern distant cloud*, and atmospheric phenomena, invisible to landsmen ; it is mv intention to proceed at length to the refutation of your fan cies on this point, and then I shall handle more briefly the phantom appearances. ******* " Having thus completely demolished your first point, ab solutely leveled it with the ground, plowed up the founda tions, and sowed salt in the furrows, I proceed briefly, as my paper decreases, to speak of your phantoms. My dear Harry, can you seriously believe in those idle stories ? " There was a time, certainly, when the best minds, ignor ant and surrounded by common tilings which they could not understand, took refuge, from their blank thoughts, in . an irrational superstition. Socrates, it is said, believed in a fa miliar spirit, Friar Bacon also, and even that strong-minded old fellow, Doctor Johnson, to come nearer, gives credit to the story of the Cock Lane Ghost. The others had strong intellects, but they lived in an age of scientific darkness, and we may pardon, while we deplore, the vagaries of their imaginations. But that an educated gentleman of 1774, should seriously give credence to the airy whisperings of such a philosophy as you do ! that you, a strong, healthy, hearty, educated individual should believe in secret warn ings, and mysterious presentiments! really the thing grieves me too much to permit any more laughter. " I pray you to banish these fancies, which are simply the result of disordered blood, of a nervous attack, of loss of rest, probably, or excess in the use of tobacco, the supply of which, being last year's crop, is, I think, particularly rank ajid violent in its effect upon the nerves. Physical causes very frequently produce mental effects, and if you see the devil enter, with horns and tail, you have but to go to the next physician's library to read an account of the same phe nomenon witnessed a century ago by another sick as you are. " What 's certain is, that you are unhappy, and you rightly MISS BOI-TNYBEL. 81 think that nothing that concerns you is indifferent tr> m, that nothing yon write will find in me an unsympaihizing listener. We have been friends since childhood, and though censorious individuals are pleased to consider my carriage of person the proof of a shallow nature, still I persist in de- clnring that I love ray friends as well and heartily as the best of them, and among these friends none takes a place before yourself. I pray you throw aside these imaginary trouble* 1 , and do not doubt that you have the entire affection of th?t beautiful nature, than whom I know none purer or moie faithful. " I am still languid from my attack, or I would come to see you. Why should you not make a visit here ? Leave your plans for 'Flower of Hundreds,' and come, for a day at least, and recover your spirits. You '11 work all the better afterwards. I shall assuredly expect your answer to this in person, and by word of mouth. " I thank you for the things. They are all excellent, ex cept the hair powder, which that abandoned profligate, La- fonge, has prepared with musk. My opinion of that fellow is, that he is a wretch, and that the chief end and aim, of his whole existence is to disappoint, wound, and humiliate me. A hundred times I have remonstrated with him, almost to tears, on his conduct. I have dedicated whole mornings to the most pathetic representations, which he has listened to with sobs, standing behind his counter, and wringing hia hands, and promising, between his sniffs of contrition, that in future he will be perfect. It is all in vain ; his insidious design is to mortify and humiliate me ; he thinks even to shorten my days by his unmanly persecutions. He is mis taken, however. This puts the finish to our dealings. I distinctly ordered this hair powder to be prepared in an apartment which a suspicion even of musk had never en tered, and here I and my household, the very dogs and cats, are turned into moschine denizens of Thibet, causing me to blow my nose and groan every five minutes while I write. Well, I have one recourse Lafonge and myself A<$ MISS BONNYBEL. part for ever ; I am tearful, but firm we separate. I 'n* none the less obliged to you, Harry my boy, for the trouble you were put to. " I 've got to the end of my paper. Do not write, but come here and breathe a purer atmosphere. " For Heaven's sake do n't yield again to your fancies, which wound and distress me no less than they do yourself. Forget them, and come and have a laugh with, or at, if yo'i choose, " Your friend to the end, "Ton ALSTON." "P. S. Even my pointer, Milo, is turning up his nose at the musk, and regards me with a look of reproach which penetrates my heart. The depravity of Lafonge has been exhibited for the last time." CHAPTER LXL ST. JOHN TELLS HOW A SPIRIT ENTERED HIS ROOM At MIDNIGHT. "WlLLiAMSBUBG, Wednesday, " YOUR letter, my dear friend, was scarcely different from what I expected. I was perfectly well aware of the fact that my account of the singular influence I experienced would excite rather laughter than sympathy, and I even add that your reply contained less of banter than I ex pected. " It is unnecessary for me to say that your laughter did not annoy me at all. I recognize your right to scold me as vig orous!) as you choose, for, as you say, we are too close friends to stand upon the least ceremony. I thank you indeed for your letter, filled as it \vas, the greater part of it, with the ipo^t friendly assurances of regard, and the most labored MJSS attempts to raise my drooping spirits, and cheer me nflor my afflicting adventure. After reading the sheets carefully T laid them down, thinking your views admirably just. 1 said to myself that I would not further continue the discus sion, but leave to after events the determination of the mat ter. I would willingly believe, if she met me as of old, and if the presentiments did not return, that I was merely car ried away by fancy, and there would be the end of the ar gument, and your triumph. If, on the contrary, this change became more marked in her if these influences attacked me more unmistakably then, too, there would be an end of the discussion, and I should have wofully triumphed. " I announce to you, with a groan as I write, that the last is the fact. I can not come to Moorefield I can not move now. I do what I can I write. " In order to understand what has taken place since the arrival of your letter, and to make myself better understood n the further account of what has befallen me, I shall begin at the beginning, and trace the matter through all its steps ; briefly, however, for I am weak and faint. " To go back, then. " I left Vanely a fortnight or more ago, and came hither to see to a number of arrangements connected with Flower of Hundreds, which is sadly in want of repairs, owing, I suppose, to my long absence. As you may imagine, I car ried away from Vanely, in the looks and tones of somebody, what made these toils a happiness, for she was to share the home I was bent on beautifying for her reception. "I came hither, therefore, with a light heart, and pro ceeded to work. But the strangest thing happened to me so strange in connection with what has taken place since that but I will narrate. " On the very day of my arrival I encountered at the Raleigh tavern that strange man of whom I have spoken to you more than once the stranger of the old church of St. John, at Richmond town. We talked of political matters, and when he came to allude to the assistance the province 35$ MISS r-ONNTBEL. demanded from all her patriotic inhabitants, I returned his strange confidence up yonder, by speaking of myself, and saying that I would be nble to do little, since I had received from a woman an avowal of her affection, and was happy and content, and disposed to think all things in the world just as they should be. He replied, with a strange look, * Do not think that Heaven will permit you to withdraw yourself from the contest.' Those were his very words, and though I listened to them then with careless inattention, I now re* member them, and find them echoing, like his deep voice, in my mind and my heart. " Some days after the interview with the stranger, I rode out, went to Jack Hamilton's, an