CHAPTER VI.
A Ball.
By the time the summer was over, many of Lettice’s friends had left the neighborhood. Rhoda had gone to Washington to join her father, who was still detained in the capital city. Mr. Clinton, too, was there. In October both Mr. Tom Hopkins and Lettice’s father marched away to the Canada border, and among the armed vessels which Baltimore sent out to annoy the enemy was one commanded by Joe Hopkins; this had started down the Chesapeake in August, and Patsey was wistfully looking for news from her absent lover. Betty’s pleadings had kept her husband at home, so far; and Jamie, although he threatened each day to follow his father, still lingered.
“You’d better stay at home and protect us,” Betty and Lettice would say. “Suppose the enemy should come up the Chesapeake, where would we be? And if I were left a young widow, William, thinkhow sad,” Betty would say as a final argument.
“I think I will go to sea with Cousin Joe when he comes back,” James at last concluded. “I tell you we’re licking the British on the water, whatever we may be doing on land. Commodore Barney captured fifteen vessels in the forty-five days he was running along the coast, and news has come that theWasphas captured theFrolic, and theUnited Stateshas theMacedonian, if last reports are correct.”
“Good!” cried Lettice. “I wonder how Rhoda likes that.”
James looked down, and with the toe of his boot rolled over one of the hounds at his feet; then he looked up, saying, “And Robert Clinton, how do you suppose he takes it?”
Lettice gave her head a little toss. “What do I care how he takes it! Is there news from Canada, Brother William?”
“No good news. We must be content with our victories at sea, for the present. Our little state has nothing to be ashamed of in her naval exploits.”
Just then the smart rap of a whip-handle on the door announced a visitor, and Birket Dean walked in. “I was coming this way, Miss Lettice,” he said, after greeting them all, “and I brought alongthis letter that came for you on one of the boats.”
“A letter?” Lettice eagerly held out her hand, and tore open the letter fastened with seals, for as yet envelopes were unknown. She gave her attention to the closely written pages, then looked up, and said animatedly: “Oh, brother! oh, Sister Betty, Rhoda wants me to come to Washington for a visit! I should so love to go to see the President and Mrs. Madison, and oh, do say I may go!”
“Alone?” returned her brother William, smiling. “You wouldn’t expect me to leave Betty and the baby to take you, would you?”
“Jamie could take me. You would like nothing better, would you, Jamie?”
“I’d like to, yes; but—”
“Oh, well, never mind; I can go as far as Baltimore with Aunt Martha, and she can find some one in whose charge to place me. I will see Aunt Martha this very evening.”
“Will you ride over with me?” Birket asked eagerly.
“Yes, if you will stay to supper. Here, Jamie, I know you are dying to see this, and as there are no secrets in it, you may as well have the pleasure of perusing it.” And Lettice tossed her letter to her brother James.
It was a lovely ride down the road in the hush ofan October evening; the landscape, taking on an autumnal hue, showed a soft envelopment of purple mist. To the right lay the blue bay, across which dimly appeared the spires of the little town of Annapolis.
“It is truly a beautiful scene,” said Lettice, gazing around her. She looked like a bit of autumn herself in her scarlet jacket, and with the shining wing of a swamp blackbird in her hat. She had, it is true, some compunctions in accepting the wing, being of a most tender heart. Birket had given it to her, and quieted her protests by telling her how the thieving birds had stolen the corn and must be shot, if the crops must be protected. “Better that than to have them caught by a prowling beast, for we shoot them and they die instantly, otherwise who knows but that they may suffer tortures.”
Lettice had stroked the bright feathers thoughtfully, saying, “Since he is dead, I may as well wear his feathers, but bring me no more, Birk; it makes me sad to see them.”
“And how about the foxes?” Birket had said.
“Ah, the foxes, they are thieves, too; but I always shut my eyes when the hounds pounce on them. ’Tis a pity the world is not big enough for us andthem, too.”
The conversation had taken place a day or two before, for Birket was a frequent visitor. His father’s plantation lay on the other side of Mr. William Hopkins’s, but on account of the wrigglings in and out of a little creek, it was easier reached by water than by land.
“It is a truly lovely scene,” Lettice repeated.
“And yet you want to leave it,” Birket returned reproachfully.
“So I do, for I love new scenes, and Rhoda says there are many gay doings at the capital.”
“It is not much of a place,” Birket remarked; “not near so fine as Baltimore.”
“No, of course not. Baltimore is the third city in the Union. Nevertheless, seeing that I have been to Baltimore and have never been to Washington, I shall like to go to the least familiar place.”
“Mr. Clinton is there?” Birket asked hesitatingly.
Lettice gave her horse a gentle flick with her whip. “I don’t know,” she said shortly, as the horse changed his walk to a canter.
A few weeks later saw the two girls, Lettice and Rhoda, together in Washington, Aunt Martha having readily found an escort for Lettice in the person of one Mr. Francis Key, whose affability and courtesy lessened the tedium of the long trip, for it was aday’s journey by coach from Baltimore to Washington.
Dark though it was when Lettice arrived, she could perceive that Washington had little pretensions to being a fine place. After leaving the busy city of Baltimore, with its forty thousand inhabitants, its streets bright with lamps and full of the noise of rushing feet, of singing sailors, and rumbling carts, Washington, where scarce more than five thousand persons dwelt, seemed little more than a village, full of mud-holes, and showing a small number of houses at scattered distances. Lettice, however, was not to stay in Washington, for after the coach had rattled over the newly laid pike, and she had dimly discerned the white walls of the unfinished Capitol, she was helped down from her seat and entered a hackney coach, which was driven up and down hill, over Rock Creek, through mud and mire, until it arrived in Georgetown, a more habitable place than that which they had just left. Comfortable, spacious houses stood to the right and left of them—houses which to-day, dingy and dilapidated, give small evidence of having witnessed the brilliant scenes once of frequent occurrence within their walls.
Lettice was welcomed with more heartiness than she had expected from the reserved Rhoda, and sheparted with her kind escort, after many thanks for his thoughtful attentions.
“You must be sadly weary, Lettice,” said Rhoda, as she led her friend upstairs to a room overlooking the blue Potomac. “I well remember how fatigued I was when I arrived; but I hope you will soon get over your journey’s effects, for there are to be fine doings here next week, and you must be in your best trim. Did you bring your prettiest gowns?”
“I did, indeed, and a new one is to be sent as soon as the mantua-maker has it finished. Are you having a good time here, Rhoda?”
“Fairly pleasant, though the wretched war stirs up all sorts of ill feeling, and one never knows what will happen, or what unpleasant things one may hear; yet I have much less to stand than the President’s wife, and should not complain.”
“The President’s wife, Mrs. Dolly Madison? Is any one so churlish as to show ill-will toward her?”
“Indeed, yes. She is sometimes treated with much discourtesy, because they impute all the woes of the country to her husband.”
“As if she could help that! What gumps some people be! And have you seen Mrs. Madison,Rhoda? Do you know her?”
“I have met her several times, and she is a charming lady.”
“And your beaux, Rhoda? What of them?” The two girls looked at each other, and both blushed faintly; then Lettice, summoning up courage, asked, “Are you promised to Mr. Clinton, Rhoda?”
Rhoda looked down and answered faintly, “Not yet.”
Lettice gave her head a little toss, and a haughty look came into her dark blue eyes. “You mean that you could be if you wanted?”
“My father wishes it very much.” Rhoda’s eyes were still downcast.
“Your father? And how about you and the gentleman himself?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, you don’t?” There was some consolation in this, Lettice thought, and she determined to watch for herself.
The capital, raw and incomplete as it looked, still furnished more gayeties than Lettice found at home. Here were gathered the statesmen of the day, and the girl was all eagerness to have this or that important personage pointed out to her. Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun, John Randolph of Roanoke, agreat friend of Lettice’s late travelling companion, Mr. Frank Key, and many other distinguished men were to be seen in the city during the session of Congress. The appearance of some of these rather disappointed Lettice. She thought the President a very insignificant person for so great an office, she wrote home to James, and Mr. Randolph was the oddest looking man she had ever seen.
“There is to be a great ball at Tomlinson’s hotel,” was one of the first pieces of news that Rhoda gave her friend.
“And shall we go?” Lettice asked.
“I am not sure. My father, you know, disapproves of the war, but—”
“Mine doesn’t,” Lettice interrupted triumphantly, “and perhaps I can get some one to take me. Should you mind if I did, Rhoda?”
“I should like to go, too,” Rhoda returned, “for there will be a most distinguished company present: the President and Mrs. Madison, the Secretaries, and—oh, everybody. It is to be in honor of the capture of theGuerrièreand theAlert.”
“We must go, if there is any way,” Lettice cried. “Rhoda, tell me, do you really feel so incensed at the idea of a war as you pretend?”
Rhoda did not answer at once, and then she saidslowly, “I think with my father that it is unwise; but once in it, I think we should do our best to win.”
“Good!” cried Lettice. “I’d like to tell Brother James that.”
“Your brother James?” Rhoda repeated a little unsteadily. “Has he gone to the war?” She had not made any inquiry about him, and Lettice had wickedly refrained from mentioning him.
“He hasn’t gone, exactly. He belongs to the militia, and so does Brother William, but James says when Cousin Joe comes back he intends to join him, for he prefers service at sea.”
“Your cousin Joe, then, has not come back yet? And his marriage, is it postponed?”
“He has not returned, and the marriage has to be put off indefinitely. Poor dear Patsey! All those pretty gowns waiting for her wedding day, and she does not know when she can wear them! Cousin Joe made one short trip, and then came back to Baltimore. He started out again, but not a word has been heard from him.”
“Poor Patsey!” Rhoda looked very thoughtful for a moment; then she jumped up from the stiff chair in which she was sitting. “I’ll write a note, Lettice,” she said. “I don’t doubt we can go to the ball if you so desire it. I have friends at court, even if myfather does not uphold the administration. I can write to Mrs. Paul Hamilton, who knew my mother well, and has been most kind to me.”
“The wife of the Secretary of the Navy?”
“Yes, she has a son in the navy and a daughter here. No fear, Lettice, but that we can go with them, and take Mr. Clinton as our escort.”
Lettice shrugged her shoulders, but made no comment, though when it was known that they were to go to the ball, she was in a twitter of excitement, and declared she meant to captivate the highest dignitary there, if she could.
“That will not be difficult,” Mr. Clinton murmured, for her ear alone. The girl turned, and gave him a little scornful look. Despite the young man’s efforts at being polite and attentive, he had not met with much encouragement, and never was allowed an opportunity for one of those confidential talks he had found so pleasant during the summer.
Into a gay and brilliantly lighted room in Tomlinson’s hotel, on the night of December 8, 1812, Rhoda and Lettice entered. The former looked very fair and elegant in her India muslin, her delicate features and fair skin set off by a scarf of pale blue. Lettice, with her brilliant color, her dancing curls, and pretty figure, looked not less fair in her gown of pink, withher floating scarf of white, skilfully embroidered. They had scarcely come into the ball-room, the walls of which were decorated with the captured flags of theAlertand theGuerrière, when there was heard a great cheering and noise of excitement. “What is it?” whispered Lettice, half in alarm.
“Nothing to be terrified at, you may be sure,” returned Mr. Clinton, “for every one is smiling and eager. See, Mrs. Madison is talking quite gayly.”
Lettice stood on tiptoe the better to see, as into the room trooped a crowd of young gentlemen all escorting a young man who bore aloft a flag.
“’Tis young Mr. Hamilton,” cried Rhoda. “See, Captain Hull and Captain Stewart receive the flag. They are taking it to Mrs. Madison. It must be a captured flag.”
Lettice watched while, amid resounding cheers, the flag was placed by the side of those taken from theAlertand theGuerrière. “It is a fine sight,” she exclaimed. “I am so glad I came!”
She was so full of enthusiasm that she did not notice that she spoke to a stranger, but the young man addressed smiled down at her and replied: “So am I. Have you heard what it is all about?”
“No, please tell me.”
“It is the flag of theMacedonian. She was captured on October 25, by Captain Decatur of the frigateUnited States, and Mr. Hamilton has just brought official notice of it to his father.”
“Oh, thank you.” Lettice’s lovely eyes were shining with delight. “I am so glad.”
“Lettice,” came Rhoda’s voice severely. Then Lettice realized that she did not know this young man, and blushing, she followed Rhoda’s lead. The young man stood looking after them. “I wonder who the dear little girl is,” he said to himself. “I must find out.”
“Who was that, Lettice?” Rhoda asked.
“I don’t know. Oh, Rhoda, I was so excited that I spoke to him without realizing that he was a stranger. I am afraid it was a dreadful thing to do. Don’t tell Aunt Martha nor Mrs. Hamilton.”
“No, I will not; but you must not do such things. I shall have to keep a strict eye upon you.”
“I am afraid you will,” replied Lettice, meekly. However, after the supper, when the manager of the ball proposed as a toast, “Decatur and the officers and the crew of the frigateUnited States,” and after the most exciting evening she had ever known, as Lettice was about to leave the ball-room,she turned for one last, parting look, and from across the room came a smile of recognition from the strange young gentleman, and though Lettice was following Rhoda most decorously, she could not resist an answering smile as she turned away.