CHAPTER XX.
Her Valentine.
Lettice was not long in seeking a private talk with her father, there was so much that each wanted to say without the presence of listeners; and when many of the sad things had been talked over, and when the gladness of the present again enfolded them, her father drew the girl close to him.
“And what is this I hear of an impecunious young fellow who has dared to make love to my daughter?” he said.
“He didn’t, father, he really didn’t; he couldn’t help himself, for it was in a moment of great suspense.” And she told him the circumstances.
“And you have not given him any reason to hope he may win you?”
“No-o. I don’t know. I like him, you know.” She twisted a button on her father’s coat round and round.
“Ah-h!” he shook his head. “That will not do, my baby. You are too young to judge of what isbest for you. Give him no more thought. I cannot have my little girl throw herself away upon a poverty-stricken fellow with no means of livelihood and not likely to have any. You are still too young to have this weigh long upon you, my love. Be guided by your daddy, who thinks only of your happiness, and give up this young man, if you love me.”
Lettice’s lip quivered, but she said bravely: “But suppose I cannot help loving him, father. I would not love you any the less; and it would only mean that I would always be at home with you, if I were faithful to him the rest of my life.”
“You have not seen him? He has kept his word to William that he would not try to see you till my return?”
“Yes; but I know he is as true to me as I am to him. If you say so, father, I will not see him again, and I know he would not have me do anything to make you unhappy, but—” She put her head on her father’s shoulder to hide her wet eyes.
Mr. Hopkins looked troubled. “Well, my love, well, just let me have time to look further into the matter. I didn’t realize that you felt so about it. Don’t let your old dad make you unhappy upon this very first day of his home-coming. Cheer up now,and let it rest as it is for the present. I promise you to give the subject my best attention.”
Lettice put up her mouth for a kiss, feeling a little more comforted. Surely her father loved her too well to let her be miserable all the days of her life. Perhaps, after years and years of waiting, when her lad should have become a rich man through some unexpected means, her father would consent; meantime she would try to be happy, and she could at least think of him, even if she didn’t see him.
If there was happiness and peace at Sylvia’s Ramble, so there was a great joy in the home of the fair bride. Such a glad ending to a sad year. Her Joe’s wife! Faithful, loving Patsey had no other thought; and when, as the day drew to a close, and the guests from far and near came flocking in, each whispered to the other, “Did you ever see such a radiant face as the bride’s?”
“And when is your wedding to be, Lettice?” asked Becky Lowe, important in her own prospective marriage.
“Law, child, don’t ask me!” replied Lettice, lightly. “But pray don’t insist that I shall be your bridesmaid, Becky, if you would have me married, for this is my second service in that capacity; thefirst was at Brother William’s wedding, and you know the old saying, ‘three times a bridesmaid, never a bride.’”
“Who told you I was to be married?” simpered Becky.
“I didn’t have to be told,” Lettice replied teasingly; “it is a self-evident fact. Are we to have a dance? So we are. With pleasure, Tyler.” And leaving Becky, Lettice was led out upon the floor. She longed, yet hesitated, to ask her partner when he had heard from his cousin, and where was he? But all of a sudden her heart stood still, for there in close converse with her father stood her comrade in many a perilous hour. He looked grave and was talking earnestly. Lettice, so confused that she forgot her steps, turned the wrong person, to the amusement of her friends. “Who could ever suppose that Lettice Hopkins would forget a dance?” cried one. So she recovered herself and took better heed to the figures of the Cauliflower, and at the end of the dance was led back to her seat, her eager little heart beating fast. Why did he not come and speak to her? And O dear, why should her father detain him? Did he mean that when he was separated from her but by the distance of a few feet, he was still to keep his promise to avoid her? Common politeness would forbid that. Surely they weretalking longer than was necessary, and accounts of battles and such things would keep till another time. Yet, perhaps it was she of whom they were talking, and the thought made her heart beat even faster.
Presently her father looked over to where she sat and smiled at her; then he spoke a few words to his companion and both came toward her.
“I have been thanking this young gentleman for his several services done my daughter,” said Mr. Hopkins. “I was fortunate in having the opportunity.” Lettice looked up with a lovely smile and murmured a few conventional words of greeting.
“Lettice, my love,” said her father, gravely, “do you know that Mr. Baldwin is the same who helped our poor Tom to escape from the British ship? Mr. Baldwin did not know him as the same, under his assumed name, and, strange as it may seem, I never connected Mr. Ellicott Baldwin with the young lieutenant who came so nobly to Tom’s defence, and I promised Tom that if ever I had the chance I would try to pay his debt of gratitude; so, Mr. Baldwin, will you give my daughter your hand—for this dance?” The start and blush which followed these words caused Mr. Hopkins to smile.
“Would it tax your generosity beyond its limit toask you to grant my request for a dance, Miss Lettice?” said Mr. Baldwin, looking at her with all his soul in his eyes.
She arose immediately, and for the rest of the evening she was enveloped in an atmosphere of joy. She forgot that she had not seen her lover, nor heard from him, in all these months. She was aware only of a new gladness, of how delightful it was to have him near her. She did not know she could be so glad. Once Betty whispered as she passed them, “You look as happy as the bride herself, Letty.”
Lettice for answer made a little mouth at her. She felt all her youth and buoyancy returning to her, as she found herself once more in the company of this beloved one and surrounded by the merry friends of her childhood. To all who knew her she was the old Lettice of the days before the war, and her pretty, innocent coquetries but added to her charm.
“Shall you remain long in the neighborhood?” Mr. Baldwin asked.
“No, we only came down for the wedding. I do not know what Brother William and Betty will do; Uncle Tom wants them to stay at Sylvia’s Ramble till their new home is built, but I shall probably go back to town with my father. I havenot heard his plans; we have been so busy with the wedding. Is not Patsey a sweet bride, and does not Cousin Joe look as if he were in the seventh heaven? They have been such a devoted pair of lovers that every one is the more interested in them, especially as we came so near to losing Cousin Joe.”
“And you are happy, I hope, Miss Lettice? It must be a great pleasure for you to see your father again. You did not expect I would be here to-night, did you?” he asked abruptly.
“No, I did not.”
“My cousins would have it that I must come down to spend Christmas, and then nothing would do but I must stay for this affair. I had to refuse at first, but Tyler insisted, and when I knew your father would be here, I consented.” The two looked at each other, and there was a complete understanding of the state of affairs without further explanation.
“Have you been in Washington all this while?” Lettice asked.
“No, I returned to Boston for a short time. I made a visit to my sister; she is my only near relative, you know; and then, as I was not in sympathy with the Federalist movement, in whichso many of my friends up there believed, I thought I would return to Baltimore and see what I could do as a landsman. I have been rather hopeless about my future till now.”
“And now?” The look of interest and loving sympathy in Lettice’s eyes was almost too much for the young man’s self-control.
“I am more encouraged,” he told her after a moment’s pause, in which it seemed to him that she must hear the wild beating of his heart. “I shall remain in Baltimore, and may I hope to see you there? You will be at your uncle’s for the present?”
“I think so, and—yes, I will be glad to see you there.” She wondered if he had the faintest idea of how glad. “Hark, there is twelve o’clock striking,” she exclaimed; “it is the New Year. I can be the first to offer you my good wishes. May it be a happy year to you!”
“May it bring you much joy!” he returned, bending over and kissing her hand; surely that little offering of homage might be allowed him on the occasion of the dawn of a new year.
“Happy New Year!” called one to another. “Happy New Year!”
“It is a happy New Year to us, Patsey,” said Joe, as the last guests departed, and the last lantern twinkled down the road.
“It is the happiest New Year of my life, Joe,” said Patsey, lifting her face to his. “My dear, my dear, suppose you were still languishing in that terrible prison!” She shuddered and hid her face on his shoulder.
“It is you who wear the fetters now,” said Joe, playfully, to turn her thoughts from the subject.
“Yes; but I rejoice in my bondage,” said Patsey, kissing her shining wedding ring. “I glory in being a slave. I am your willing prisoner.”
“Not my prisoner, but my queen, my wife,” he answered.
“It is a happy New Year for me,” said Lettice, cuddling close to her father’s side, as they drove home together. “What were you and Mr. Baldwin talking about so long?”
He drew her closer to him under the warm bearskin robes. “About several things. Is my little girl so very fond of that young man? And would it make her very unhappy to give him up?”
“Oh, daddy, dear, you mustn’t ask such personal questions.”
“But I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because if he is everything to you, I shall put into execution a plan I have; otherwise, I might do something else. You see, he has no future, my child, unless some one uses influence to give him a start. I would rather he were a Marylander, but he cannot help it that he had the misfortune to be born elsewhere,” he added, laughing. “Now, the question is: How far shall I use that influence?”
Lettice’s answer came in muffled tones from under the robes, “Use every particle you possess.”
And her father, with a laugh that turned into a sigh, returned: “So let it be, my love. Now don’t ask me any more questions, but let time decide how it will turn out.” And Lettice was quite content at this.
The next thing they were all settled down in Baltimore, and Mr. Baldwin was filling the place Lettice’s father had always intended for Jamie, while Lettice realized that this new confidential clerk was obliged to stop at the house very frequently upon one pretext or another. So the winter promised to be a very pleasant one.
The report of the great battle of New Orleans, with the news of peace, came to end all controversiesover the war, and the young people of Lettice’s acquaintance organized a grand sleighing party in honor of the good news.
Did she ever forget that night? Under the gleaming stars, well muffled up from the winter’s cold, she did not feel the sharp, frosty air. From her quilted hood of silk bordered with swansdown, her fair little face peeped like a rosebud from a snowdrift. She snuggled down warmly by the side of Ellicott Baldwin, who had grown so deft with the use of his one hand that to drive was no great task. Over the snow they sped, bells jingling ahead of and behind them. They talked of many things. It was not often that they were alone in each other’s company, and at last the conversation took a new turn.
“Do you know what I said to your father that last night of the old year? Are you cold, darling? You shivered then.”
“Did I shiver? No, I am not cold.” She was trembling at his words. “What did you say?” she asked, almost in a whisper.
“I told him how much I loved his daughter, and he said that I must not tell you then, but that if I could make myself a place in business, as I hoped to do, that he would then be better able to say whether I might speak to you or not. And then—how good he is!—he gave me thechance to show what I could do. Lettice, am I presumptuous? Could you? Do you?”
“Oh, here is the bridge! We shall have to stop and pay toll.” But before the bridge was crossed, more than one toll was paid.
“I don’t care if he has but one hand,” pouted Lettice to Betty’s teasing remarks, when the latter came up for the grand illumination.
“And he is a Yankee.”
“Well, suppose he is?”
“And he’ll take you away from your father, whom you have sworn never to leave.”
“Indeed, then, he will not; for we are all to live together, and so much the better for my dear dad. Aha! a valentine! See, Betty! It has come by a special messenger. Danny found it under the door. Isn’t it a beauty, with that pretty filigree paper, and those roses? And what lovely verses! They are original, I know, for perhaps you are not aware that my sweetheart has a gift for making rhymes. Listen:—
“‘LINES TO THE LADY OF MY LOVE.
“‘God bless thee, dearest, for thy love,Whose pure and holy light,Upon my pathway here belowHath shed its radiance bright.God bless thee for the tendernessThy spirit aye hath shownMidst all the darkness, doubt, and gloomThy fond, true heart hath known.My dearest, I think but of theeIn evening’s silent hour.And when fond mem’ry bears me backI gladly own thy power.Where’er I go, whate’er betide,One only love is mine.Thro’ sunshine and thro’ storm my heartIs wholly, truly thine.’”
“‘God bless thee, dearest, for thy love,Whose pure and holy light,Upon my pathway here belowHath shed its radiance bright.God bless thee for the tendernessThy spirit aye hath shownMidst all the darkness, doubt, and gloomThy fond, true heart hath known.My dearest, I think but of theeIn evening’s silent hour.And when fond mem’ry bears me backI gladly own thy power.Where’er I go, whate’er betide,One only love is mine.Thro’ sunshine and thro’ storm my heartIs wholly, truly thine.’”
“‘God bless thee, dearest, for thy love,Whose pure and holy light,Upon my pathway here belowHath shed its radiance bright.God bless thee for the tendernessThy spirit aye hath shownMidst all the darkness, doubt, and gloomThy fond, true heart hath known.My dearest, I think but of theeIn evening’s silent hour.And when fond mem’ry bears me backI gladly own thy power.Where’er I go, whate’er betide,One only love is mine.Thro’ sunshine and thro’ storm my heartIs wholly, truly thine.’”
“‘God bless thee, dearest, for thy love,
Whose pure and holy light,
Upon my pathway here below
Hath shed its radiance bright.
God bless thee for the tenderness
Thy spirit aye hath shown
Midst all the darkness, doubt, and gloom
Thy fond, true heart hath known.
My dearest, I think but of thee
In evening’s silent hour.
And when fond mem’ry bears me back
I gladly own thy power.
Where’er I go, whate’er betide,
One only love is mine.
Thro’ sunshine and thro’ storm my heart
Is wholly, truly thine.’”
“Isn’t that lovely, Betty? My Valentine, you truly are.” And she kissed the verses so rapturously that Betty laughed merrily.
“It does me good to see you really in love at last, Lettice. I used to think you ‘quite gone’ when Robert Clinton was with us.”
“Do not speak of that; yet, by the way, what do you think? Ellicott saw him in Philadelphia last week, and instead of fighting a duel, as they had both vowed to when they should next meet, they actually shook hands over the good news of peace at last. And Ellicott told him of me, and, so he says, Mr. Clinton looked quite pale at what he told him of our engagement, but wished him joy and congratulated him as bravely as his best friend would do. He sent me his best wishes, too, andso I may consider that he has forgiven me. On top of all this, to-day comes a letter from Rhoda to Aunt Martha, a dutiful letter, as Rhoda’s always are. Here it is; I will read you what she says: ‘My father has long been anxious to make a match between myself and Robert Clinton, and so I have consented. Robert and I have a warm affection for each other and have known each other from childhood. I think I know all of his faults as well as his virtues. Each of us has a past to confess, as you well know, my dear aunt, but it is a past that can never be recalled, and I shall not be a less dutiful daughter and wife because of mine.’”
“Poor Jamie!” sighed Betty.
“Yes, but I am glad of this piece of news. I shall not care to meet Mr. Robert Clinton again, but Rhoda I shall always love, and I believe she loves me.”
And indeed, Rhoda came all the way from Boston to be Lettice’s bridesmaid, for the wedding took place in the spring. Lettice declared that she would never leave her father, and since Joe and Patsey had come to Baltimore to live, it was high time that they were leaving her uncle’s.
“Bless me!” said Betty, “we shall be ruined in preparing for so many weddings; Patsey’s first, and then yours, before we have taken breath. Will you come down and be married from our new house, Lettice? It isn’t as big as the old home, but it will hold a warm welcome for our friends. To be sure, we can kill no fatted calf, for all the British left us is one old ewe, and William and I are counting upon starting life over again, depending upon her as our sole prospect of future wealth.”
Lettice laughed. “Patsey might spare you a goose; she tells me she has already a brood of young goslings.”
“I don’t have to go to Patsey to find a goose,” replied Betty, saucily; “you haven’t taken your eyes from that note you just received. I suppose it is from that precious Yankee of yours. Is it a receipt for brown bread? Mother promised me a hen; she actually has two whole ones left, and if I can get eggs I’ll have some chicks before long. And father has a heifer which he traded for, with some old Tory or other, and which he has promised me. But I can’t promise you any great fixings, Lettice, dearly as I want to have you married from our house. Will you come?”
Lettice shook her head. “No, we shall bemarried at St. Paul’s. I think I would rather not go down again just now, Betty.” And Betty understood. “There should be no sad memories to mar the girl’s wedding,” she reflected.
Yet Lettice did go down once more to her old home, and she stood with her lover in the old graveyard which had been the scene of so many experiences.
“Do you remember the night we first came here together?” Ellicott asked. “I loved you then and was desperately jealous of Robert Clinton.”
“Were you really?” said Lettice. She stood thinking it all over. “You had some reason to be, sir,” she acknowledged. Then she drew closer to him. “But there can never be a cause for that again. No one can ever come between us now, my beloved.” And what answer he made, only the mating birds in the trees above them heard.
A pretty wedding it was, with a goodly array of uniforms to offset the bright gowns. The church was crowded, many bronzed faces were to be seen, and more than one empty sleeve. Lutie, carried away by the occasion, bore her mistress’s train half-way up the aisle, and when she discovered what she had done, she retreated, overcome by confusion, to be scolded by Aunt Hagar, who made herfirst journey to Baltimore to see “Mars Jeems’s Miss Letty git ma’ied.”
“I prosefy dat match long whiles ergo,” she said to Mammy who, in all her glory, was in charge of Betty’s baby, and waiting to ride to church “lak white folkses.”
“Yass, ma’am, I prosefy dat,” Aunt Hagar reiterated.
“Go ’long,” said Mammy. “Ennybody prosefy dat. Hit don’ tek no preacher ner no luck-ball ter jint dem two f’om de fust. I see dat whilst I nussin’ him dat time.”
“Humph!” Aunt Hagar gave a mighty grunt. “Ef I ain’ hed de prosefyin’ an’ de ’intment, an’ de cunjurin’ o’ dey inimies, whar yuh reckon dem young folkses be now?”
But Mammy had no answer to make, for the carriage was ready, and it was too important an occasion to spend time in “argyfyin’.”
“Lettice certainly has a lot of friends,” said Betty, as the carriage bearing the newly wedded pair drove off. “I believe the entire American army must have reserved their discarded footwear to throw after that couple. Did you ever see such a pile of old shoes?”
A week later Rhoda returned to her home tomake ready for her own wedding. Lettice kissed her good-by with more emotion than she believed possible. Would they ever meet again? Rhoda herself, looking back through a mist of tears, saw the picture which ever after remained with her: a fair young wife in her new home, standing between husband and father, loyal to both, as she had always been to the cause for which they had suffered.