"Carriage ready, sah. Jes' time to meet de stage," said the black servant, who still wore his wedding favor proudly.
Were most girls reluctant to marry? Roger Carrington wondered. Miss Fairfax had gone away joyfully.
Jaqueline found herself very much engrossed.
There was another young lady to attract visitors, and Patricia soon became a favorite. She was vivacious and ready to take her part in any amusement, could dance like a fairy, and sing like a bird.
"You'll have to look to your laurels, Miss Jaqueline," said old Mr. Manners, their next neighbor. "Patty will carry off all the lovers in no time. I hope you have made sure of yours."
Jaqueline blushed and tossed her head.
"He would marry me to-morrow," she returned. "I'm in no haste to be married."
At the next wedding she had another attendant, the brother of the bride. Roger was too busy to come for the mere pleasure. When the birthday ball was at the Lees' Mr. Monroe had sent him to Philadelphia on some important business. So Lieutenant Ralston was cavalier for both girls; and certainly Patty was one of the belles of the evening, and could have danced with two partners every time.
After that came Patty's birthday, and a grand affair it was. Mrs. Jettson ran down to look on and help a little, as she said, but not to take an active part. Ralston begged that Dr. Collaston might be invited. He had graduated from the Philadelphia school, but was a Marylander by birth; and, having a private fortune, had decided to spend the winter in Washington. A bright, fine-looking young fellow who played the flute delightfully and sang all the songs of the day, and, what was of still more importance to social life, could dance with zest and elegance.
Jaqueline was in some degree the hostess, and distributed her favors impartially, so Roger had very little of her. Varina and Annis felt as if they were in fairyland, and were entranced with delight.
Mrs. Jettson insisted that after Christmas she should have her turn with the girls.
"There are to be some famous visitors, I hear, and Washington is getting to be quite a notable place. Not quite St. James; but Mrs. Madison is our queen, and it is like a little court, as Philadelphia used to be in Mrs. Washington's time. The debates will be worth hearing, or rather seeing, for the famous speakers who will take part. Dolly writes about Mr. Calhoun, and there is a Mr. Henry Clay, who is very eloquent. I can't give regular parties, but you girls can go out, and Patty must attend a levee and be presented to Mrs. Madison."
Patricia was very much elated.
"Why, it will be something like the English stories,"—there were a few novels even then that girls were allowed to read,—"going up to London or to Bath with a trunk full of finery. I don't suppose you ever will take us to London, papa?"
"I'm getting too old. You will have to get a husband to take you to London."
"'Where the streets were so wide and the lanes were so narrow?'" sang Patty. "But I won't have a wheelbarrow. I'll have a coach, or nothing."
"I wish you were not going away," Annis sighed. "It's so bright and merry when you are here, and so many ladies come in their pretty frocks, and they laugh and talk. I can hear you upstairs when I am in my bed. And the fiddles sound so gay, and then I know you are dancing. Oh, I wish Christmas and birthdays could come oftener!"
"The birthdays might do for little people who are anxious to grow old fast," said Jaqueline, patting the child's shoulder. "But the rest of us wouldn't want two or three in a year. And it won't be very long before you'll be going to Washington to see the queen, pussy cat."
"But I want you, not the queen. It will be so lonesome when you are gone!"
"You are a little sweet!" Jaqueline bent over and kissed her. "I hope you'll stay just sweet, nothing else. Everybody will love you."
"I'm afraid I don't want quite everybody," she returned in a hesitating tone.
"Yes, one can even have too much of love," laughed the elder sister. She thought she sometimes had too much of it. She was proud of Roger Carrington, and she was quite sure she did not care for anyone else in the way of wishing that some other person stood in his place. Why,then, was she not ready to step into his life and make it glad with a supreme touch of happiness?
Annis glanced up wistfully to the beautiful face bent over her, which was more engrossed with its own perplexities than considering her little sister. Then suddenly she laughed, a low musical sound with much amusement in it, and Annis smiled too.
"You are having love troubles early, Annis dear," she said gayly. Charles'penchantincreased rather than diminished, and Annis found it somewhat exacting and troublesome. When there were other young visitors Varina appropriated them, much to Charles' satisfaction, and he invariably turned the cold shoulder to other little girls.
"But Charles is going to school presently, and he will get interested in boys and plans for the future, so you may stand a chance of being forgotten; how will you like that?"
"Why, I shall have mamma always. Jaqueline," hesitatingly, "does anyone love you too much? Is it Mr. Ralston? And doesn't he love Marian any more?"
"My dear, when Marian was engaged Mr. Ralston gave her up, which was right and honorable. Little girls can't understand all about such matters."
"I like Mr. Ralston very much," Annis remarked gravely. "Varina thinks Patty will marry him."
"What nonsense! Varina is quite too ready with her tongue. Come, don't you want a little ride with me before I go to town?"
The child was delighted, and ran off for her hat and coat.
Her father had suggested a little caution in regard to Mr. Ralston. They were simply friends. He had never uttered a word that could be wrongly construed.She had a kind of safe feeling with him. Was there any real danger? But he was Roger's friend as well?
There were already some invitations awaiting the two girls when they arrived at Mrs. Jettson's. Patricia was much elated with her first levee. Certainly there was a group of distinguished women entertaining—Mrs. Cutts and Mrs. Lucy Washington, now a charming young widow; Mrs Gallatin, and the still handsome Mrs. Monroe, who had been an acknowledged New York beauty; and among the men the very agreeable young Washington Irving, who was to leave a lasting mark on American literature.
"But you feel almost afraid of the wisdom and genius and power," said Patricia to Dr. Collaston. "Now, there is Mr. Clay, with his sharp eyes under the overhanging eyebrows that look as if they might dart out at you and somehow set you in a blaze. I am to go hear one of his speeches, my brother insists. And my cousin Dolly is wild about Mr. Calhoun. Don't you think they might both have been made handsomer without any great detriment to the world? And Mrs. Calhoun is charming. She knew some of the Floyds and heard about Dolly's marriage."
"Patrick Henry wasn't a handsome man, if accounts are reliable. Genius and good looks do not always go together," and Collaston smiled.
"There is Mr. Irving. He talks delightfully. And it is a pleasure to look at him."
"Call no man happy until he is dead. I mean it is not safe to predict how much fame one will win until—"
"Until he has won it. But it is a kind of cruel thing to wait until you are dead, when you can't know anything about it. I mean to take my delight as I go along. But,then, women are not expected to be addicted to longing for fame."
"Still they may be famous for beauty. I think there have been a number of famous women. Queen Elizabeth—"
"Don't instance the Empress Catherine nor Catherine de Medicis. If you do, I shall never forgive you. Nor Joan of Arc—I can't remember any more."
"Nor the Pilgrim mothers! They deserved a good deal of credit to set up housekeeping on bleak Plymouth Rock. Why doesn't someone talk about them! Housekeeping is a womanly grace or virtue or acquirement—which do you call it?"
"I suppose it is an acquirement when you work hard to obtain it, a grace when it comes natural. Do you imagine they kindled the fire on the rocks and boiled the kettle as we do when we go off in the woods for a day's pleasure?"
"They wouldn't let you do it now. Plymouth Rock has become—"
"The palladium of liberty! Isn't that rather choice and fit and elegant? It is a pity that I can't take the credit of inventing it. And what a shame we haven't a few rocks about here! I have a dreadful feeling that the Capital may sink down in the slough some day and disappear. Every street ends in a marsh."
"You see, this is rightly called the New World—it is not finished yet."
"Dr. Collaston, we can't allow you to monopolize the beauties of the evening. Here are some guests anxious to meet Miss Mason," and thereupon Patricia was turned slightly around to face a group of young people.
But it was not all gayety or compliments, though men were gallant enough then, and ready with florid encomiums.There was the dreaded topic of war, which was touched upon with bated breath; there were muttered anathemas concerning the impressment of sailors; there were fears of France and a misgiving that we were not strong enough to cope with England while our resources were still slender. And already there were undercurrents forming for the Presidential election more than six months hence.
But the younger people chatted nonsense, laughed at trifles, and made engagements for pleasure as well as for life; or the more coquettish ones teased their lovers with vain pretenses. Mrs. Van Ness entertained with ease and brilliance, and was as fond of gathering the younger people about her as those more serious companies where the responsible party men met and in a veiled way touched upon the graver questions. At Mrs. Gallatin's one met the more intellectual or scientific people. There was a feeling in the air that the country ought to consider an advancement in literature. Boston was already pluming herself upon a certain intellectual standing. There were Harvard and a Law Club, and a kind of literary center that had issued a magazine, and there were several papers. New York had some poets, and there had been a few novels written. But what could anyone say about such a new country? There were no famous ruins, though there were battlefields that were to be historic ground when men could look at them from a distance. Many a brave story lurked in the fastnesses of Virginia, and old James River held a romance in almost every curve of its banks.
But people were busy about the currency and the debts, and the laws the young nation must have for her safety, and the respect she must demand from other nations. For this is one of the things nations give grudgingly; perhaps individuals do it, as well. Even now Mr.Adams' administration was criticised, and Mr. Benjamin Franklin was accused of spending his time flirting with French women, who were great flatterers, all the world knew. And some people were still berating the Jefferson policy, and sneered at little Jemmy Madison. Washington had not really taken hold of the hearts of the people. Gouverneur Morris had said wittily that "it only lacked cellars and houses and decently paved streets and a steady population, and that it was a fine city for future residences."
Georgetown was more settled and prosperous, and there was much going back and forth, if coaches did now and then get stuck in the mud; and young gentlemen not infrequently adopted the Philadelphia custom of drawing on long leggings when they went on horseback to keep their handsome stockings and their velvet smallclothes from being injured.
The South was well represented in these early days. Newspaper letters found their way to other cities, with enthusiastic descriptions of the principal beauties, their charms and fascinations. Mrs. Madison and her two sisters perhaps set the pace for delightful hospitality, and that still more engaging and agreeable quality of giving guests a pleasant time and a lasting remembrance to take away with them.
But it was not all pleasure. There were housewifely duties; and more than one visitor saw the first lady of the land in her morning gown of gray stuff and a big white apron, for servants were not always equal to the state dinners. There were some charities too, when the younger people met to sew, and gossip about new fashions and new admirers. And the first real work of benevolence was undertaken about that time by some of the more notable women. This was the City Orphan Asylum, for already there were homeless waifs at the Capital.They met once a week to cut out clothing, or cut over garments sent in. Mrs. Van Ness kept up her interest in it through a long life, after Mrs. Madison retired to her Virginian home to nurse her husband's invalid mother, and finally devote herself to the years of dependence that befell the husband of her love. Certainly the record of her later life reads like a charming romance. But the young people were not interested in policies, and could not believe in war, except Indian skirmishes and among the European nations hungering for power.
Patricia was eager for fun and delight, and dearly loved a dance. And, like more modern girls, she had a desire to be settled in life, to have a home of her own. To her that seemed the chief business to be undertaken through these early years. She liked Ralph Carrington very much. "But perhaps one in a family ought to suffice," she remarked to Jane. "Then he is so grave and bookish, and his wife will be expected to come home. I dare say Jack and I would always dispute about husbands. Ralph has the best temper. Roger is dreadfully jealous. I can't see how Jack dares to go on so."
"She'll go too far some day," and Jane gave her head a slow, ominous shake. "And she'll be very foolish! You mark my words, Roger Carrington will be sent abroad before he dies of old age. It's a great honor, I suppose, but I'd rather go on living here."
"I really don't think I'll take Ralph," after some consideration. "Do you suppose this gold-thread embroidery will look like that imported stuff?" holding up her work, as if that was more important.
"Well, it's pretty enough for a queen. There's that New York judge, Patty—"
"I'd rather have someone first-hand. I can't take another woman's children to my palpitating bosom and have it palpitate as sweetly as Marian's did. But, la! there's atalk that Mrs. Washington smiles on Judge Todd, who is her shadow! But he's in the Supreme Court."
"And ever so much older."
"Well, so was Mr. Madison."
"I like young men best."
"Peyton Lee is over here half his time."
"But, then, I've known him always. And he is too easy. Why, I could run right over him! Because a man cares for a girl he shouldn't be wishy-washy," and Patty tossed her dainty head.
Jane laughed. "And the doctor?"
"Oh, I dare say he will want to go back to Philadelphia and turn Quaker. I couldn't wear those hideous straight gowns and horrid scoop hats without a bow!"
"He has been investing in Washington property. He talks of building several houses to rent for the winter. It would be quite a scheme, if they were furnished. Senator Macy would have brought his family if he could have found a comfortable place for them to live. There ought to be some decent hotels and boarding-houses. Men can manage to squeeze in, but it gives permanency to a city to have homes and wives and children. And Washington is kind of shifty. Look how prosperous Georgetown is!"
Patty nodded. The doctor had discussed this property scheme with her. She was seriously considering him in her own mind. He had not quite asked her to marry him, but he was keeping a very watchful eye over her.
They went up to Arlington for a three-days' visit and a dance. There was a week at Bladensburg and a sleigh-ride, a rather infrequent occurrence, which made no end of fun and frolic. By this time the doctor had laid his case before Mr. Mason. He had decided to cast in his lot with the new city, to set up a home, and desired permissionto address charming Miss Patricia on the subject. He presented his worldly prospects to the elder gentleman in a very frank manner, and referred him to some well-known residents of the Quaker City.
Patty had been engrossed a good deal with her own affairs, although she had laughed and danced with the gayest. Jane had been much interested in watching the outcome of the adventure. She had an elder-sisterly feeling for these girls, who had been so much nearer since Marian's defection. She should be rather proud of their both doing so well under her supervision.
So Jaqueline had been going her own gait pretty well, and developed an inordinate fondness for pleasure and flattery. She was too wise to believe all the pretty speeches, all the earnest speeches even. But they had a rosy fragrance, and perhaps the good thing about some of them was that they faded. She was not an inborn coquette, hungry for lasting power over men's hearts, but the present moment satisfied her. The variety fascinated her.
Roger Carrington, watching this, was at first rather amused, then a little hurt, and finally, when he began to ask himself seriously how much true regard Jaqueline had for him, grew passionately jealous. If she had said, "I have made a sad mistake; I find that I have a deeper regard for Lieutenant Ralston than I imagined; will you give me back my freedom?" he would have been manly to the heart's core, and released her, though it had wrenched away the beautiful dream of his life.
But she affected to treat this merely as a friendship. Could she not see?
When other attentions became troublesome she sheltered herself behind Ralston. He was engrossed in the affairs of the country. He had a feeling at times that he was only playing a part in life, that instead of being merelyan ornamental soldier he should go out on the frontier and take an active part in the struggles. He was not meant for a statesman, though he listened, fascinated, to Marshall and Randolph and Clay and Calhoun, and envied them their power of moving the multitude. Then, it did not seem very heroic to be getting the level of a street and calculating the filling in, to consider Tiber Creek and Darby Marsh, to superintend rows of trees and dikes and blind ditches. But when he confessed his dissatisfactions to Jaqueline, she said with a wise, earnest, sisterly air: "Oh, do not go away! There will be an election in the coming autumn, and how do you know but we may be plunged into war and need you for our own defense? Arthur thinks so much of your advice and counsel."
That was very true. The thing was to build up Washington. Other cities had grown by slow accretion, and been a hundred and more years about it. Congress had ordered a city on a slender purse. There had been magnificent plans and a half-finished Capitol, a Presidential residence that Mrs. Adams had not inaptly termed a "great castle"; there were scattered beautiful houses, and though more than a dozen years had passed it was not yet a city of homes; but there was a newamour propreawakening. The poverty of those days can scarcely be understood in these times of lavishness.
So energetic young men like Arthur Jettson and Dr. Collaston found scope for all their energies, and were warmly welcomed.
The latter had hardly decided where to make his home until he met Patricia Mason. And now he adopted his nation's Capital at once.
His answer was favorable, and he hurried to his sweetheart with all impatience, though he had been cool enough before. And she accepted him, as any sensible girl with a strong liking for a young man every way worthy of herregard was likely to do. Jane was called in presently to rejoice with them.
"Oh, Patty!" she exclaimed afterward, kissing her enthusiastically, "it's just a splendid marriage! I'm so glad to keep you in Washington! You and Jaqueline and I will have such good times—we think alike on so many subjects. I am happy for you, my dear. And I do wonder if you'll want to spin out your engagement—"
"He won't," returned Patty, her pretty face red as a rose, and her eyes suffused with a kind of prideful love. "Why, he spoke of it and thought a month would do! The idea! And all the wedding clothes to get and make! And he never once suggested that we should go to New York, as Preston Floyd did!"
Patty drew her face in comical lines, as if indicating disappointment; but the laugh spoiled it all, and the waves of joy dancing in the lines were fascinating.
"I do wonder what grandmamma will give me? The pearls and the rubies are bespoke, and she has a diamond cross that has been in the family—how long?"
"And the diamond ring father Mason gave her. You know Aunt Catharine claims that. I ought to have the cross, being the oldest girl, though it did come from the Verney side."
"Jaqueline is to have our own mother's pearls. There's a beautiful string of them, and eardrops. But I think the doctor has some diamonds belonging to his mother. Oh, I wish there were some brothers and sisters! I shall not gain any new relations! Father wrote him a delightful letter; I wish I had kept it to show you. And he says Jaqueline and I must come home soon. Perhaps he will be up next week."
So they chatted, and when Mr. Jettson came in to dinner it was all gone over again. If girls did not exactly "thank Heaven fasting" for a good husband, theywere glad and proud of their great success. They were not ashamed of loving and being loved; there was a kind of sacredness to most women about this best gift of life. For in those days it was for life. If it did not begin with the maddening fervor of some later loves, it kept gathering sweetness as the years went on.
Patty was still at her needlework when Mr. Carrington came in.
"Mother has just sent a servant over to say that I am to bring you and Jaqueline to tea and to spend the night. Some Baltimore relatives have come, and she is anxious you shall meet. They go to Alexandria to-morrow, and then to Stafford, which accounts for the short notice."
"Oh, Jaqueline went over to the Bradfords' this morning. They're going to have a little play, and want her to take part. She can do that so splendidly, you know. Lieutenant Ralston came for her, and said she was to stay to dinner."
Carrington frowned and bit his lip.
"I think I'll send over to the Bradfords'. I can't go myself," as if he were considering.
"I'm sorry, Roger, but perhapsIought not go. And I hate to disappoint your mother when she has been so kind to us. But Dr. Collaston is coming in this evening—"
There was a flood of scarlet leaping to her face as she gave a half-embarrassed laugh.
"Oh, Patty! you don't mean—I mistrusted he was in love with you, but it doesn't always follow that a girl is in love. Shall I give you my best, my most heartfelt wishes? For I know your father will approve. He is a fine fellow, and a fortune is no detriment."
He took her hand in a tender clasp and then pressed it to his lips.
"Yes, the approval was sought beforehand. He heardfrom papa this morning, and came at once. And I'm not good at secrets," with a joyous laugh.
"And you are very happy? I need not ask it of such eyes as those." Their great gladness gave him a pang.
"It was so sudden. You see, I wasn't quite sure," the color fluttering up and down her sweet face. "I kept saying to myself, 'There are plenty of others,' and now I know there was just one, and I could never be so glad about any other. I am a silly girl, am I not, but you are almost a brother—"
"I wish I were quite, in the way that marriage gives you a brother. I shall shake hands most cordially with the doctor. Perhaps we might go as a party—would you mind?"
"Oh, no! If you could find Jaqueline."
"I'll see at once, and send you word. And get word to the doctor also."
"Oh, thank you!"
Roger Carrington dispatched a messenger to the Bradfords. The party had just gone to Mount Pleasant on horseback. It was doubtful if they would be home before supper. They were not sure, and there was a beautiful full moon.
Then Carrington was angry. She thought nothing of going off with Ralston, and she might at least have consulted him about the play. That she had not known of it last evening did not at that moment occur to him. All the grievances and irritations of the past few weeks suddenly accumulated, accentuated by the joyous face he had left behind. Did Jaqueline really love him? Had she not put off the marriage on one pretext and another? She had taken admiration very freely, quite as if she were not an engaged girl. It had annoyed him, but he did not want to play the tyrant, and she had so many pretty excuses. How sweet and coaxing the tones of her voice were!Her smiling eyes had ever persuaded him; and when tears gathered in them they were irresistible and swept away judgment. He had been too easy. After all, a man was to be the head.
He did not find the doctor either, but sent word to Patricia that he was most sorry to take such a disappointment to his mother. They would all go some other time. And he went home rather out of temper inwardly, but courteous to his mother's guests outwardly.
They were quite disappointed at not seeing Roger's betrothed.
All the next day and evening he was so closely engaged that he could not even run down to the Jettsons' until after nine; and then they were all out. That did not improve the white heat of his indignation, and convinced him that Jaqueline cared more for her own pleasure than for him. Then when he called the day following she was over at the Bradfords' practicing.
"It's too bad!" cried Patricia. "They never came home from their ride until after ten. Jaqueline looked for you yesterday. The play is to be on Monday night, and father is coming up on Wednesday, though now Jaqueline is in it she will have to stay. It is to be quite an event. And a dance afterward."
Occasionally a theatrical company strayed into Washington, but private plays were a treat to the actors as well as to the invited guests. The Bradfords' house was commodious, and the tickets were to be sold for the benefit of the orphan asylum, so there was no difficulty in disposing of them.
"I thought I should never see you again."
It was almost dusk of the short day, as it had been cloudy and was threatening a storm. Roger had overtaken Jaqueline on her homeward way.
"How many days has it been?" turning a smiling face to him. "I have sold all my tickets, and I had meant to keep two for you. Come home to supper with me. Of course you know what has happened! Patty acts as if no girl ever had a lover before. It is amusing."
Her light tone angered him.
"Walk a little ways with me. I have something to say to you."
He drew her hand through his arm and strode on. She braced herself for a storm.
"What—down to the marsh? The frost is coming out of the ground, and we shall be swamped."
That was true enough. He turned suddenly.
"Let us go home. It looks like rain. I believe I felt a drop on my face," she began.
"Not until I have said my say," in a resolute tone of voice. "Jaqueline, I cannot have this manner of going on. It is very unjust to me, and you will not be the more respected by parading Lieutenant Ralston's devotion to you when you have an acknowledged lover."
"His devotion to me? Why, everybody knows—at least, we all know—"
"That figment is only a cover for flirting."
"But—he is your friend." Her tone was quite resentful, and her temper was rising.
"Was!" with emphasis. "But this shall no longerbe a cover for you. You choose between us. If you like him so much better—"
"Roger, he has never uttered a word of love to me." She stopped short in indignation.
"Oh, no! He has some lingering remnant of honor. But you will see how soon he will ask you to marry him when I have given you up."
Given her up! There was a white line about her mouth, and her eyes seemed to hold the depth of midnight.
He had not meant to utter the words, though they had been in his mind for days. At the first inception of such a suspicion he had said he would never give her her liberty and see her married to another man, and then as he had seen her dispensing her smiles to a group of young men and bending her dainty head first to one and then to another, as if what the present speaker was saying was of the utmost moment, a curious revulsion of feeling swept over him. Yes, let Ralston take her, with all her love for the admiration of everybody! Perhaps he did not care for one supreme love.
She was silent from sheer amazement. That any man who was her real lover should talk of such a possibility stung her to the quick.
"Jaqueline, I cannot go on this way," and his voice dropped to a softer key. "I want all the tenderness of the woman I love, and some of the attention, I must confess. If she cares for me I do not see how she can be continually occupied with others. You give me just the fragments. You make engagements, you go out without the least thought that I might have something in view; you have put off our marriage from time to time, and now you must decide. If you love me well enough to marry me—"
"Out of hand!" She gave a scornful little laugh. "Ithought it was a girl's prerogative to appoint her own wedding-day. I will not be hurried and ordered about as if I had no mind of my own. I will be no one's slave! I will not be watched and suspected and lectured, and shut up for fear someone will see me!"
"Jaqueline!"
She was very angry now, and it seemed to her as if she had a curiously clear conscience. She had not expected to stay at the Bradfords' until just after dinner, but there were still some points to settle, then someone proposed the ride. Ralston had not remained to dinner, and had not gone out to Mount Pleasant with them, but a servant had been sent in with several invitations for gentlemen. Impromptu parties were of no infrequent occurrence among young people. Jaqueline did not know of the invitations until after the messenger had been sent; and from some oversight no one had mentioned Mr. Carrington.
She could have explained this. But when she glanced at the erect figure, the steady eyes, the set lip, he looked so masterful. She was used to her father's easy-going ways, and Ralston's persistence in the matter of Marian had a heroic aspect to her. If Roger was so arbitrary beforehand, what would he be as a husband! She forgot how many times she had persuaded him from the very desire of his heart.
"It is just this, Jaqueline—I am tired of trifling. If you do not care to marry me, say so. I sometimes think you do not, that you care for lovers only, admirers who hover about continually, glad of a crumb from a pretty girl. I am not one of them. You take me and let my attentions suffice, or you leave me—"
She had an ideal of what a lover should be, and he looked most unlike it in this determined mood. Why, he was almost as arbitrary as grandfather!
"Suppose I do not care to be hurried by a fit of anger on your part? If you had asked an explanation like a gentleman—"
"I do not want explanations. You take me or leave me. I have danced attendance on you long enough to no purpose."
"I certainly shall not take you in this dreadful temper!"
"Very well." He turned slowly. If he really cared for her he would not go. She stood dignified and haughty. Of course he would come around, for if he truly loved her he could not face the future without her. But the door shut between them.
It was very ungenerous for him to be jealous of Ralston, and foolish of him not to like her part in the little play. She was not the heroine who had two lovers adoring her, but a pretty maid who had made her election and was pestered by someone she did not care for, and the story turned on her quick wit in extricating her mistress from a dilemma. Ralston was the lover to whom her sympathies went, and the one her mistress secretly favored.
Mrs. Carrington came over that day to take the girls out for a drive and to try to persuade them to come over for a Sunday visit. She congratulated Patricia warmly on her prospects.
"Perhaps we shall have a double wedding," with a soft, motherly smile.
"Oh, don't plan for that!" ejaculated the elder girl with a shiver. "Grandmamma did, you know, and such misfortunes happened."
"But it would be lovely!" Patricia exclaimed longingly, wondering at her sister's vehemence.
"And you think you cannot come?" Mrs. Carrington said as they drove back to Mrs. Jettson's. "It would be such a great pleasure to us all!"
"We have a Saturday-night engagement at the Hamiltons'," Patricia replied. "And Sunday there are to be some guests to dinner."
"And the play Monday evening," added Jaqueline in a voice she tried to keep steady.
"I don't wonder you two girls have delightful times and are full of engagements," said the elder woman with a smile of admiration. "But my turn will come presently. Good-by, my dears."
Jaqueline felt confident she should meet her lover at the Hamiltons', but she did not. Sunday passed without him.
"Whatever is the matter?" inquired Patty.
"A little lovers' tiff," and Jaqueline gave an airy toss of the head, with a rather disdainful smile.
"You never do mean to quarrel with Roger Carrington!" exclaimed Patty in surprise.
"It was of his own making."
"Jack, now that I have a lover of my very own, I don't see how you can be so fond of—of other men. You haven't treated Roger at all well."
"I won't be called that detestableJack! And I am not man-crazy!"
"No, they are crazy about you. I shouldn't think Roger would like it. No lover would stand it."
Jaqueline made no reply.
Monday there was a rehearsal, and Jaqueline remained to tea. There was a very enthusiastic audience, and the play was charmingly acted. Of course Roger was there, and chatted with Patricia and the doctor. Jaqueline in her heart acted for him alone. She was so eager and interested in furthering Margaret Bradford's love for Lieutenant Ralston that she thought he must see how frankly and freely she could relinquish him. But Roger, knowing that Margaret Bradford had a real lover, looked at it from a different point of view.
"Will you give my congratulations to your sister?" he said to Patricia, rising, as the curtain fell for the last time. "There is some important business at Mr. Monroe's, and I am to be there at ten."
"Are you not going to stay to the supper?" Patty cried in surprise. "I know Jaqueline expects you."
If she had sent ever such a little note to bid him come! But she had made no sign.
Then Jaqueline Mason was very angry. She would not believe any man actually in love could so hold aloof. It was an insult! And while her passion was at white heat the next morning she penned a sharp note of dismissal. He should not plume himself upon having given her up.
Mr. Mason came to Washington according to agreement, and was very well satisfied with his prospective son-in-law.
"But do not go on too fast," he advised. "Matters look squally ahead. And if we should have war—"
"It will hardly invade us, when there are more important cities open to attack. And I cannot really think it. As the capital of the nation we must plan and build for the future. L'Enfant planned magnificently; it is for us to carry it out. And we younger men, who have not had our tempers so tried with all the disputes, will continue it with greater enthusiasm. It must be the grandest place in the whole country."
Mr. Mason smiled thoughtfully.
"I hope it may be. We had a hard fight for it in the beginning. I want the wisdom of our choice apparent."
"It will be the city of my adoption, and I shall bend all my energies, and whatever money I can spare, to its advancement. Having won my wife here, it will alwayskeep a charm for me. I should like to be married as soon as is convenient. Patricia will be very happy here, I am sure."
Patricia was a fortunate girl, her father thought. Fathers had their daughters' interests at heart in those days, when there was time to live.
"What is this?" he asked of Jaqueline on the morning of their departure, holding a brief note before her eyes. "You don't mean that you have dismissed Mr. Carrington?"
Jaqueline flushed deeply, then turned pale. For a moment it seemed as if her tongue was numb with terror. Had he really accepted her desire without a protest? Was it her desire?
"There was—oh, I cannot tell you now! Wait until we get home," she pleaded.
"But he says—it is your wish! Jaqueline, my child, you never could have been so foolish as to throw over a man like that!"
"Oh, papa—don't, don't! When you hear all—" and she clasped her arms about his neck.
"I can't imagine him doing an ungentlemanly act. And if you have learned anything to his detriment—there are malicious tongues, you know. Yet I cannot bear to think you were to blame."
The girl was silent, and swallowed hard over the lump of condemnation in her throat. For she had thought he would offer her some opportunity to rehabilitate herself. She could not believe she had given such bitter offense. It seemed to her that she would have forgiven almost anything to Roger. Suppose he had wanted to take part in a play with a girl she had not liked? But, then, he and Ralston had been warm friends. Roger went to places where she was not acquainted, at the houses of some of the senators. The Monroes invitedhim. Yes, he met some very charming women at dinners. But she knew she held his inmost heart, as far as other women were concerned. And why could he not have the same trust in her?
Dr. Collaston treated it as a mere lovers' tiff. "They will make up again," he said to Patricia. "And no doubt we'll be married at the same time. Carrington is a fine fellow."
For the first day Patricia's affairs occupied everybody, to the farthest slave cabin. Big and little wanted a peep at Miss Patty's lover. Comparisons were drawn between him and Mr. Carrington, and a doctor was looked upon as something rather uncanny. But he soon made himself a favorite.
Mrs. Mason was consulted about the wedding.
"What are Jaqueline's plans?" she asked.
"I must get to the bottom of that matter," the father remarked with a sigh. "Something has happened between them."
"And we all like Roger so much."
It was a fine day in early spring, with the breath of new growing things making the air fragrant. Jaqueline was walking with Annis and telling over the pretty ways and whims of the Jettson baby, and how fond the boys were of their little sister.
"Jaqueline!" called her father.
"No, don't come with me, dear. I'll be back in a few moments."
Annis sat down on a flat stone where a bit of trailing moss dropped from a tree, swinging to and fro. She amused herself trying to catch it. And then she heard a voice raised in tones that were not pleasant.
Without exactly meaning to make it harder for her sister, Patricia had admitted that Roger had some cause to find fault. Jacky had been very much admired, and shehad not paid due attention to Roger. There had been something about the play, but she didn't think Jaqueline cared any more for Ralston than for half a dozen others. From it all Mr. Mason gathered that his daughter had not been blameless.
To break an engagement without excellent reasons was considered very reprehensible. A girl might have lovers by the score; and though she might lay herself open to the accusation of flirting—this was easily forgiven. But when one's word had once been passed, it was the sacred honor of womanhood, and to break it left a stigma not easily overcome.
To Mr. Mason, with his strict sense of justice, this was a severe blow. He had been proud of Jaqueline going back into the Carrington family, and her warm welcome from both ladies. Dr. Collaston had a much larger fortune and was of good family, but the Carringtons had some of the proudest Maryland and Virginian blood in their veins, heroes who had made their mark, women both brave and beautiful. And there was no doubt but that Roger would make some sort of a high record and be called upon to fill an important position.
"You have been a foolish and wicked girl!" he said angrily to his daughter. "You have disgraced yourself and us, and broken up a lifelong friendship just to gratify a silly vanity and a spirit of contumacy that is despicable in a woman! I am sure Roger had some rights in the case. If he had come to me I should have appointed a wedding-day at once. And now you will be the laughing-stock of the county."
That was the mortifying point. Patricia would be married before her, with a great flourish of trumpets. She felt almost as if she would make some effort to recall Roger. But that brief note to her father, explaining that he had given her her liberty because she wished it, beingquite convinced it was better for them to separate, seemed to cut off every avenue of promise.
"Father is awful mad at Jaqueline," said Varina to Annis. "He's scolded her like fun! And she isn't going to marry Roger. The slaves say when the eldest lets her sister get married first that she will have to go and dance in the pigpen. Do you suppose she will?"
"No, she won't!" exclaimed Annis indignantly. "And I'm sorry. Poor Jaqueline!"
"Oh, you needn't be sorry! Jack can get ever so many lovers. But I'd like them both to be married. They're always saying, 'Run away, Rene,' or 'Go get this and that,' when they know you can't find it. And Patty is going to live in a beautiful big house in Washington, ever so much bigger than Aunt Jane's, and she will give balls and parties and go to Mrs. Madison's every day. I mean to coax papa to let me live with her."
That was all very grand. Annis liked Dr. Collaston, too. Patty had grown curiously sweet, and everybody was coming to wish her happiness.
Jaqueline was evidently in disgrace. Even grandmother, who came down to spend a few days and hear the plans, read her a severe lecture. Mrs. Mason was sorry, for she felt in her heart that Jaqueline cared more for Roger than she admitted.
But the sympathy from little Annis was the sweetest. She had a way of patting Jaqueline's hand and pressing it to her soft cheek, of glancing up with such tender eyes that it moved the elder's heart inexpressibly.
There was a world of excitement on the old plantation. Madam Floyd had been married there in grand state and dignity, but "Miss Cassy" had missed a wedding in her youth, and now that one of the household, born under the roof-tree and reared among them all, one of the true "chillen at de big house," was to be wedded with a gaybevy of bridesmaids and an evening of dancing to bridal music, the whole place was astir. Dr. Collaston would wait no later than June.
"After all," declared Patty, "much of the work can be done afterward. The house will not be finished until August; meanwhile we shall stay wherever we can, and spend a month at Bladensburg. So there need be no hurry about anything but gowns." The doctor had ordered some things abroad, for, although duties were high and the risks great, vessels came and went in comparative safety.
Immediately upon the adjournment of Congress Mr. Monroe decided upon a visit to New York, ostensibly on his wife's account, who had been the famous Miss Kortwright of that city. Political matters were kept in the background. It was known that there was an undercurrent at work for De Witt Clinton as the next occupant of the Presidential chair. Mr. Monroe determined to visit several of the larger cities, and Roger Carrington was glad of the opportunity to go away. Ralston had been sent with a corps of engineers to examine the defenses of several important points.
Jaqueline was relieved, and yet strangely disappointed. Did Ralston know that he had been considered a sort of marplot? Yet when Carrington went carefully over the ground, he thought if there was any fault between them it really was Jaqueline's appropriation of the young man.
Mrs. Carrington had been deeply disappointed; but, mother-like, she blamed Jaqueline for the trouble. The answer to Patricia's wedding invitation had been a brief note in which Madam and Ralph joined her in congratulations. The elder lady was now quite an invalid, so it would not be possible for them to leave home.
Jaqueline felt curiously bewildered in those days. At times she decided that she really hated Roger for his jealous,overbearing disposition, and was thankful she was not to be his wife. Then a wave of the old love and longing would sweep over her. Would a line from her bring him back? But he was quite wrong about Ralston.
So there was a grand wedding, and young and old were invited, with numerous guests from Washington. Annis and Varina brought up the rear of the bridesmaids, with Charles and a neighboring lad, dressed in the pretty French-court style.
"You are more beautiful than the bride," said Charles gallantly. "When you are married you must be dressed just that way."
It was a summer of gayety, and there were times when everyone allowed Jaqueline to forget her naughtiness, and she almost forgot it herself. Louis came home crowned with honors and very proud of his success, and pleased Patricia by his admiration of her husband.
"How tall and pretty Annis is growing!" he said to her mother. "But try to keep her a little girl, and let Rene have full swing first and marry off. Though I shall rather pity her husband, her temper is so capricious. Annis is sweetness itself. She seems to be the peacemaker always."
"Don't flatter her too extravagantly. I think you all torment Varina so much that it makes her irritable."
"Varina and Charles bicker constantly. Charles must go to school next year and get the nonsense shaken out of him. Varina ought to try it too. There is a very excellent girls' school at Williamsburg, and a little of Aunt Catharine's discipline would do her good. We are a rather lawless set, and you have been very kind to us."
"I have not found any of you troublesome," and the stepmother smiled upon her tall son. "Charles is anxious to go away now."
"He is a smart, queer chap, and will be a professor ofsome kind. At present he is simply omnivorous; it makes little difference what, so long as he learns. And I really did not like to study."
"You have given your father a great deal of pleasure by your perseverance," she said sweetly.
Varina was jealous that both brothers should haunt Annis so continually and be so ready to plan pleasures for her. She quite decided now that Annis might marry Charles.
"And if no one marries me I shall go and keep house for Louis in Washington," she announced.
There was a houseful of grown people one afternoon, when Annis took her sewing and went down to the creek to a shady spot the children were very fond of. Louis had made a kind of swinging seat with a wild grapevine, and it was a favorite haunt of hers, though when she found Varina in it she never disturbed her or disputed her claim. Charles often sat and read to her.
"Do, Rene, go away or find something to do!" exclaimed Jaqueline presently, when the younger had been especially tormenting. "You are worse than a gadfly!"
"There's no one to amuse me. I don't care for those folks on the porch talking politics."
"Then go down to the quarters and set the darkies to dancing or order up Hornet."
"I don't want to ride alone. It was mean in Charles to go off without saying a word."
"Papa sent him over to the Crears' on an errand."
"I wouldn't have spoiled the errand."
"I am going down to listen to the politics, and learn who will be next President."
"Then I'll hunt up Annis."
Jaqueline hoped Annis had gone wandering in the woods. But Varina went straight to the retreat. Yes, there was Annis swinging in her shady nook with a veryslow movement that did not hinder her from sewing on her strip of gay embroidery. And Charles sat on his horse in his delicate, high-bred manner. They all said he resembled the old courtier in the parlor.
The little creek purled over the stones, crooning its way along. The air was sweet with innumerable fragrances, the sunshine veiled with a soft haze that deepened the shadows all about. Charles enjoyed the brooding atmosphere and the picture Annis made. His horse had taken a few steps in the creek and quenched his thirst, and now seemed enjoying the fine prospect.
Varina made her complaint at once.
"I didn't want you to go with me," he answered. "Papa had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, you might have made me Jack at a pinch, if Annis could not go."
"I didn't ask Annis. And I didn't want any pinches," laughingly.
Varina roamed up and down, interrupting the talk. Charles had stumbled over his brother's copy of Shakspere, that had opened a new world to him. Louis laughed a little at his enthusiasm, but Annis never laughed.
"I mean some day to go and see all these places," he was saying. "You know, they are real places, and some of the people were real people. Perhaps they all were. Varina, don't you splash the water over Annis."
Varina had picked up a slender dead branch, and was beating up waves in the little creek. The spray went quite a distance.
"No matter," said Annis. "A little water doesn't hurt. But tell me, did they really put out Prince Arthur's eyes? How could they be so cruel?"
"I don't see how you can take an interest in suchpeople. You're always talking about wars and all manner of terrible things."
Varina brought her stick down with emphasis. Sam had been stepping softly about the edge of the creek, the cool water laving his hoofs. He had not minded the sprinkling on his sides, but this gave him a drench in the face. He threw up his head and turned to walk out. Charles had dropped the bridle rein, but Sam was gentle enough. As he reached the edge he stepped on a rolling stone, stumbled, tried to regain his poise, but both horse and boy went over. Sam righted himself in a moment, but Charles lay quite still.
"Oh, if you have killed him!" cried Annis.
Varina was white with an awful fear, too much alarmed to make a sound. It was Annis who flew to his side. She bathed his face and head with her handkerchief. Sam came and looked on with a human expression in his eyes. Charles stirred and sighed.
"Oh, he isn't dead!" cried Annis joyfully.
"No, I'm not dead." Charles sat up, wincing a little. "What happened?"
Varina pushed Annis aside and knelt down with her arms around him. "I'm so sorry!" she began. "But that little douse didn't make Sam stumble. What can I do? Shall I run up to the house for anything?"
"Just help me up. No, I haven't any broken bones. Be thankful for that, Rene," and the boy tried every limb. There were twinges in his back and a queer, half-dizzy feeling in his head. "I'll be all right in a moment."
Sam seemed to feel reassured, and went to cropping the sedgy grass.
"There, don't cry, Rene. It wasn't all your fault. Sam trod on something that rolled—a stone, I think."
"And I do love you so—ever so much more than youlove me! And it gives me a heartache to see you all take in Annis and crowd me out."
Varina began to sob.
"I don't mean to crowd anyone out," declared Annis in a tone that sounded as if it came over tears. "And you all have a part of my own mamma."
"Annis is so good and sweet, and ready to give up any point, and you want always to take things whether or no. Perhaps you'll grow up like Jaqueline or Patty, and Patty's awful sweet to everybody since she's had a husband. There, don't cry any more; I'm not killed. I'll sit here and rest a little. And, Rene, if you would only give over tormenting people when they tell you to stop!"
Varina was still a good deal alarmed. She could see Charles' white face without a bit of color in the lips as he lay on the ground. He was pale still, as he leaned back in the swing.
"And, Rene, you will never, never get a husband unless you do change. You'll be a cross and queer old maid, and not one of us will be willing to have you about. And you can be real nice."
"Oh, don't scold her so!" Annis went and clasped her arms about Varina's neck. "She is going to be sweet and good because nothing dreadful did happen. God, you know, kept it from happening. And when one is very grateful one tries hard to do one's best. Sometimes I think you don't love Rene enough, and it makes her hurt and sore."
Then the children made resolves all around, and Charles walked between the girls up to the house. If the making up could only last!
"Don't say a word about it," he cautioned them. "Father would make a fuss." Then he turned and kissed Varina, a caress he seldom offered her.
"I'm going to try, I really am. But it is so hard not to be loved."
"But we do love you," declared both in a breath.
The trouble was they loved each other as well. And she wanted to be loved best.
Dr. Collaston and his wife opened their new house early in September with quite a grand gathering of friends. It was really very handsome for the times, and the young wife was considered quite an acquisition to society, which was rather fluctuating. Louis Mason esteemed himself very fortunate to obtain a place in the office of Judge Todd of the Supreme Court. Charles and Varina went to Williamsburg to school, and Annis had her mother all to herself once more, for Jaqueline was in great demand at her sister's.
She was not long in meeting Roger Carrington, but they might have been the merest acquaintances. And as if to help the family get over the disappointment, Ralph married a daughter of one of the neighbors, an amiable, home-loving girl, an excellent housekeeper, and quite up in the demands of the society of the day. She came home to live, and Mrs. Carrington had her coveted daughter, who was entirely satisfied with her position.
"We were all very sorry when the difference happened between you and Roger," Mrs. Carrington said gently to Jaqueline the first time they met. "But it was better to learn then that you could not agree than to have to live unhappy afterward. Still, I hope we shall remain friends, and I want a visit from your parents very much."
Jaqueline thanked her gracefully. Truly, it seemed to make little difference. Roger looked older and more dignified, and was in great demand with the inner circle of both men and women.
There were many pressing questions, both in the City and country. The Napoleonic conquests had shaken Europe to its very center, and the first disaster to the man regarded as invincible produced a thrilling sensation. Mr. Barlow, author of some quite important pamphlets, was sent to France to observe affairs, which were in a rather critical state. The party clamoring for war with England made itself heard more loudly. The right of search, the interference of trade, the insolent and overbearing manner of England roused the whole country.
Through all the turmoil Mrs. Madison moved serenely, and if her heart quaked with forebodings, it was not allowed to disturb her efforts at making Washington a social center. Then her pretty widowed sister, Mrs. Washington, married Judge Todd, and so became permanently settled in the City. Every year saw a little improvement made in the Capitol and the President's mansion. Streets began to have a more finished appearance.
Jaqueline was not less a belle than she had been the previous winter. Arthur Jettson was prospering, and Jane was bright and gay in spite of three babies; so between the two homes and the outside world she was kept full of engagements.
She was rather surprised when Lieutenant Ralston made her a proposal of marriage. The friendly feeling had been so strong, and on her part so unlike love, that there could be but one answer. He did not seem deeply disappointed, but begged that they might remain friends.
Only a few days after she received a note from her mother. They had been up to the Pineries, for grandmotherwas quite poorly and went downstairs only to her dinner.
"She misses the stir and activity of being mistress of the house, and her son's ideas are different in many respects from hers. But there comes a time when the old must give way and step aside for the young. Marian is devoted to her. I do not know now what your grandmother would do without her. Did you hear that poor Mr. Greaves is dead at last? But it has been a living death for six months or more; indeed, he has never had his mind and memory clearly since the first stroke, and now for weeks he has been barely conscious. He must have had an iron constitution. I think your grandmother is very thankful that this happened before the marriage rather than afterward. Miss Greaves wants to close the house, dispose of the slaves by hire or leasing, and go to England to educate the children. Brandon is as bitterly opposed to war as ever his father could have been. Marian is sweet and kindly, but has fallen into an apathetic state. Dolly is prospering, and from all accounts very gay. She has written repeatedly to Marian. I wish the poor girl could make the visit. It is sad to see her youth fading away."
"Poor Marian! Oh, Patty, do you remember our first visit here? It seems ages ago, doesn't it? and so much has happened. What girls we were!"
"And Mr. Madison was inaugurated! You went to a levee. How I did envy you! Now I curtsey to Mrs. Madison every day or two, and gossip with Mrs. Cutts, and am asked to meet this one and that one. Well, we're the Virginian part of the Capital," laughing. "And how you schemed for Marian! Jaqueline, you don't mean to marry Lieutenant Ralston yourself, after all? Jane was so afraid you might attract him."
"Oh, no! He seems just like a brother." But shedid not confess she had answered the momentous question. She gave a great throb of thankfulness. True, he insisted that Marian had never really loved him, and a man would be foolish enough to go mooning about such a woman.
It was June of that year, after a stormy session of Congress, that the word spread like wildfire through every State, first announced in theNational Intelligencer, that war had been declared against Great Britain. And on June 21 the strongest naval force the country could muster, a squadron of four warships, was fitting out at Norfolk. Charleston was astir; New York, Boston, and Salem were busy transforming merchant vessels that had lain idly at the wharves into fighting ships. Young men hurried to Annapolis and placed themselves in training, for the war must be largely fought out on the seas.
The efforts of England to harass and break up the commerce between the United States and other countries, notably France, had exasperated the pride and sense of justice of the country. The war-cry was taken up: "Free trade and the rights of sailors. America must protect her own." And although times had been hard and trade poor, out of it had grown a knowledge of the young country's power and possibilities. Now the nation was compact and had a centralized government. There had been many improvements since old Revolutionary times, and the population had nearly doubled.
Not that the country was a unit on this subject. The Federalists were extremely bitter, and denounced the war as unnecessary and suicidal. England, out of one war, was ready with her ripened experience to sweep us from the seas. And what then?
On the frontier the campaign opened badly. At the disgraceful surrender of Hull at Detroit not only was thecommander blamed for treachery and cowardice, but the Cabinet and the President held up to execration.
As an offset, naval victories suddenly roused the waning enthusiasm: theWaspand theFrolic, theHornetand thePeacock, and theConstitution'ssplendid escape from theGuerrière, that was to drive the "insolent rag of bunting" from the seas, the chase from New York to Boston, the brief fight of an hour and a half, when the bunting was left to wave over the wreck, and Captain Dacres and the part of his crew not in a watery grave made prisoners. No wonder Boston had a day of rejoicing!
This was followed by other victories. The country began to draw a free breath, and the conquest on the lakes crowned it with new courage and rejoicing.
But in the Capital a fierce battle was raging. Whether Madison should again be the candidate and succeed himself was a hotly disputed question. But if the President came in for so much animadversion, it was admitted that Mrs. Madison bore herself with steady courage and cheerfulness. There was no distinction made between parties at her receptions. No one was treated with coolness because he had reviled the administration. Perhaps it was the charming courtesy that upheld Mr. Madison through the stress of the times.
Then Jaqueline and Dr. Collaston were summoned suddenly to Cedar Grove. Charles had been brought home in a rather alarming condition. There had been spells of fainting and headaches that were thought to come from overstudy, and at last Uncle Conway was seriously alarmed, and sent the boy home in the care of a trusty slave and an old mammy. He was very much exhausted by the journey, and Dr. Collaston saw at once that it was something more serious than overwork.
"But I'll be sure to get well, won't I?" he asked wistfully."There is so much going on, and so much to do and to learn in this big world. How grand it is! And if we should beat England again, wouldn't it be magnificent? Do you feel sure that we will?"
"Never mind the war. Tell me when the headaches began. And the pain in your back. You used to be such a bright, healthy little lad. Did you take enough exercise?"
There was a faint flush creeping over the pale face, and the eyes looked out on the distance as if taxing his memory, but instead he was trying to elude a curious consciousness.
"The headaches? Oh, I used to have them sometimes at home. They're girlish things, and it doesn't seem as if boys ought to fret over them," with a touch of disdain.
"And you haven't been trying your strength leaping over five-barred gates or jumping ditches, or perhaps riding too much?"
"I had my pony, you know, but I didn't ride very much. And latterly it seemed to take away my strength. Aunt Catharine was sure it hurt me, and then I didn't ride at all. So I left it for the children and Varina. Aunt Catharine was wonderfully kind, but she isn't quite like mamma, and father is so good and strong. I'm going to get well now. I think I was homesick too, and that's babyish for a great boy. How Louis would laugh at me!"
But no one laughed. Everybody spoke hopefully, to be sure, and treated the matter lightly. Annis read to him, but he sometimes stopped her and said: "Tell me about your visit to Patty. Doesn't it seem funny to have Patty among the big people and going to the White House to dinner? Why do you suppose Jacky didn't marry Mr. Carrington? I like him so much."
Then it was the old Froissart, with the queer pictures, or the war news. The young people around came in, the boys ruddy, laughing, and sunburned. The little darkies did their funniest tricks and sang songs for young mas'r; but though he seemed a little stronger, he did not get well. It had not been altogether the hard study.
"You are quite sure you can't remember any fall down there at Williamsburg?" the doctor queried.
"Oh, I might have had little tumbles; boys often do," he said with an air of indifference. "But nothing to hurt."
He caught a look on the face of Annis, who was standing by the window idly drumming with her fingers on the sill, and frowned.
"What was that for?" The doctor intercepted the glance, and looked from one to the other.
"Please don't drum, Annis," he said gently. "Did I frown?" to the doctor.
Dr. Collaston studied him sharply.
"If you young people have any secret that bears on the case, you'd better reveal it. Working in the dark isn't always advisable. Annis, why do you change color?"
Annis flushed deeply now, and her eyelids quivered as if tears were not far away.
"Let Annis alone," said the boy in as gruff a tone as so gentle a voice could assume. "I suppose wedidboth think of one thing when you so insisted upon a fall. It was a long while ago, before I went to school. We were down by the creek. I was on Sam, who had been drinking and wading in the stream. He turned to step out, and a stone rolled and he stumbled. I went over his head, as I didn't have the rein in my hand. It knocked the breath out of me for a moment. But I had been tumbled off before,when I was learning to ride, and that really didn't—wasn't of much account, only Annis was so frightened. Now shall I go further back and tell you of all the downfalls I have had? I wasn't very daring—Annis, wasn't I something of a babyish boy?"