“Thinkest thou there dwells no courage but in breastsThat set their mail against the ringing spearsWhen helmets are struck down? Thou little knowestOf nature’s marvels.”—Mrs. Hemans.
Miss Petronilla Lawless was an exceedingly precocious, an exceedingly courageous, and an exceedingly self-possessed young lady, as our readers are aware, yet now her brave heart for one moment seemed to die within her, and a terrified shriek arose and was barely suppressed on her lips. The hour, the scene, the darkness, the danger, might have made an older and stronger person quail. Alone in the woods, where no scream for help could be heard, with the gloom of Hades all around, save when the blue blaze of the heat-lightning flashed for a moment through the darkness, helpless and alone, in the power of a fierce, blood-thirsty negro. For one instant, a deadly inclination to swoon came over her; but the next, “coward and boaster,” as she heard the words from Ranty’s lips, came borne to her ear, nerving her heart with new courage and her childish arms with new strength.
“Am I a coward and boaster, as he said?” she mentally exclaimed, while her eye lit fiercely up. “Yes, I am, if I scream and faint; so I won’t do either. It wasn’t for nothing I learned to shoot and carry pistols about, and Ranty won’t call me a coward again, if I die for it!”
All these thoughts had passed through her mind in half an instant, and now the dauntless little amazon sat erect on her horse, and one little brown hand dropped to the pistol she carried in her belt.
The black, meanwhile, had held her rearing steed firmly by the bridle-rein.
“Come, get off with you!” said the negro, gruffly. “I’lllook after you for a few days, Miss Pet. Come; I’ve got a place all ready for you in here.”
Now, Pet was too young and guileless to fear any worse fate than robbery, imprisonment, or, perhaps, death; but as the negro attempted to pass one arm around her waist and lift her from her saddle, her face blanched with horror and loathing, and shrinking back she shrieked:
“Let me go—let me go, I tell you! I’ll kill you if you don’t let me go!”
“Oh come, now, missy—none o’ this. Little kittens spit and snap, but we ain’t afraid of ’em. You’ve got to come! so you may as well come at once.”
“Lift her off, and carry her ’long. No use a-standin’ foolin’ here!” said another deep, guttural voice.
“Let me alone! I tell you let me alone! I’ll murder you, if you don’t!” screamed Pet, passionately, her finger closing hard on the trigger.
“Oh, I’m getting tired of this yer!” exclaimed the black, as he resigned the horse to his companion.
And, going over to Pet, he flung his arm around her and attempted to lift her from her saddle.
A flash of lightning at that instant revealed the black, shining visage plainly to Pet as his face was upraised to hers.
Her teeth were clenched hard, her pistol was raised, one swift short prayer for help, and the brave little amazon fired!
A loud cry, that arose even above the sharp report, burst from the lips of him who held the horse, as he let go the reins and sprung toward his wounded companion.
The frightened Arabian, the moment he felt himself released, bounded madly away, and in five minutes Pet was beyond danger.
The cottage on the Barrens was the nearest habitation; but all was dark there, and the family had evidently retired to rest.
While Pet paused to deliberate a moment whether she would rouse them up or ride home to Heath Hill, she chanced to turn her eyes in the direction of the White Squall—as the old sailor, Admiral Havenful, had named his huge white palace of painted wood—and perceived a long line of redlight streaming from one of the windows far over the dry level moor.
“Uncle Harry’s up yet!” exclaimed Pet. “I’ll go there, and stay all night. Gee up, Starlight! You have carried me out of danger once to-night; just take me to ‘Old Harry’s,’ as Deb says, and then you may put your head under your wing and go to sleep as fast as you like.”
As if he had understood her, her fleet steed bounded furiously over the heath; and five minutes later, Pet was standing knocking away with the butt-end of her whip on the door, loud enough to waken the dead.
The terrific thumping brought three or four servants scampering to the door; and close at their heels, holding a bedroom candlestick high over her head, came the “grand seigneur” of the household, himself looking slightly bewildered at this attempt to board him by force.
“Law! if it ain’t Miss Pet!” ejaculated the man who admitted her. “Might ’a’ known ’twar she; nobody else would come thumpin’ like dat. Fit to t’ar de ruff off!”
“Don’t be afraid, Uncle Harry; it’s only me!” said Pet, as she came in dispersing the darkeys by a grand flourish of her whip.
“Port your helm!” exclaimed the admiral, still slightly bewildered, as he held the candlestick aloft and stared at Pet with all his eyes.
“Well, how can I port my helm out here, I want to know?” cried Pet, testily. “Look at these niggers gaping, as if I had two heads on me, and you, standing staring at me, with that old candlestick over your head, that’s got no candle in it. Here! go along with you! Be off with you!”
And again Pet flourished her whip among them, in a way that had the effect of speedily sending them flying to the kitchen regions, while she gave her passive uncle a push that sent him into the parlor from which he had just emerged.
This done, Pet followed him, shut the door with a bang, flung her whip across the room, and dropped, with a long, deep breath of relief and security, into an arm-chair.
The admiral sunk into another, still holding the candlestick in his hand, and never removing his eyes from her face. Thus they sat for some minutes, she gazing on the floor, hegazing in helpless bewilderment on her; and while they are thus engaged, we will take the liberty of glancing round the parlor of the White Squall.
Like the sitting-room of Miss Priscilla Toosypegs, there was a “plentiful scarcity” of the ornamental, and, unlike hers, a great preponderance of the useless. The floor was covered by a thick, dark carpet; the windows were shaded by blue-paper blinds; the walls were as white as the largest possible amount of whitewash could make them, and adorned by pencil draughts of ships, brigs, schooners, corvettes, and every other kind of vessel that ever delighted the heart of a sailor and puzzled an uninitiated female to describe.
Over the mantel-piece was a huge painting of a straw colored and pink man-of-war, on a blue-green sea, blazing away at a terrified-looking little cutter, on whose deck could be seen a gentleman and a lady, both considerably taller than the mainmast. This work of art was the pride and glory of the admiral, and was displayed to every stranger who visited the White Squall as something that might make even the great old masters look to their laurels.
Deer-antlers bristled in various corners, and five or six huge cages, filled with owls, parrots, hawks, and a dozen other strange birds, hung from the ceiling, while the model of a ship, some three feet long, with all her sails set, her cargo and crew most probably under the hatches—for none were visible on deck—and apparently all ready for sea, stood on the mantel-piece, right underthepainting.
A huge, wide fireplace, in which, despite the warmth of the evening, a bright fire was burning, occupied one corner of the apartment, and close beside this sat Admiral Havenful, in his elbow-chair, still staring at his niece.
The admiral was a man of fifty or so, short, stout, plethoric, with a rubicund face, a jolly sailor’s swagger, and a simple, good-natured look, naturally, that made every heart warm toward him. Very rich, very generous, and very easily “taken in,” he was the guardian-angel of all the poor in the neighborhood. The admiral had never married, and had only quitted the service a few years before to settle down and end his days in the pride of his heart, his huge, white, eye-blinding “White Squall.” A fondness for whisky-punch, children, and nautical phrases, were the most noticeabletraits in the old man’s character. His niece, Pet Lawless, had never ceased to astonish him, from the first moment he saw her, and now he sat hopelessly gazing at her, and trying to make out what could have brought her there at that hour of the night, looking so pale and excited.
Pet, with her dark eyes fixed on the floor, was uneasily wondering whether she had killed the man she had shot at, and shuddering to think what a dreadful thing it was to shed blood, even in self-defense.
“Oh, I hope—I do hope I haven’t killed him!” she exclaimed at last, involuntarily, aloud.
“Killed who? Firefly?” inquired the astounded admiral.
“Uncle Harry,” said Pet, looking abruptly up, “I’ve gone and killed a man!”
This startling announcement so completely overwhelmed the worthy admiral, that he could only give vent to his feelings by a stifled “Stand from under!”
“Yes, I just have; and I expect they’ll hang me for it, now. Ranty said I was to be hung, but who would think he could really tell fortunes?”
“Killed a man! St. Judas Iscariot!” ejaculated the dismayed admiral. “When, Flibbertigibbet?”
“To-night; not fifteen minutes ago. I expect he’s as dead as a herring by this time!” said Pet, planting her elbows on her knees, dropping her chin in her hands, and gazing moodily into the fire.
Admiral Havenful glanced appealingly at the candlestick; but as that offered no clue to the mystery, he took off his hat, scratched his head (or, rather, his wig; for he wore one), and then clapped it on again, and turned briskly to his niece.
“Now, little hurricane! just shake out another reef or so—will you? I’m out of my latitude altogether.”
“Well, I guess you’d have been more out of it, if you had been caught as I was to-night,” said Pet, with a sort of gloomy stoicism. “I was coming through the woods, you know, between Dismal Hollow and the Barrens, when, all of a sudden, two great, big, black niggers jumped from behind the trees, and caught hold of my horse.”
With something like a snort of terror and dismay, the admiral sprung to his feet, and brandished the candlestick fiercely over his head, while waiting for what was to come.
“Body of Paul Jones! And what did you do, whirligig?”
“Why, I told them to let go, and they wouldn’t; and then I took a pistol, and shot one of them!” exclaimed Pet, with flashing eyes.
“Hoorah!” shouted the admiral, waving the candlestick delightedly above his head. “I knew there was some of the Havenful blood in you! Three cheers for Flibbertigibbet!”
“Then my horse started, and ran off, and I came right straight here,” concluded Pet, her cheeks and eyes lighting up at the exciting recollection.
“Hoorah for little Bombshell!” roared the admiral, as he sprung forward, and catching Pet’s hand, gave it a squeeze that nearly crushed the little digits. “You ought to have been a boy, Firefly! By Saint Christopher Columbus! you are a female hero, Pet!”
“Well, but it isn’t nice to kill a man, or even a nigger! I hope he ain’t dead,” said Pet, uneasily.
“Never you mind the monkey! Served him right if he is! I do hope he’s gone to ‘Davy’s locker,’ where he’ll get a warmer welcome. Why, he would have killed you, Pet!”
“I expect he would; though I don’t see where would be the good of killing a little thing like me,” said Pet, thoughtfully humane. “I say, uncle, I’d like to go and see if he’s dead!”
“And may I be swung to the yard-arm if I let you go a step! Does the girl want to get killed again?” said the admiral, puffing up and down the room, with his hands stuck in his pockets, like a stranded porpoise.
“No; the girl doesn’t want to get killed,” said Pet, crossly. “I’m not going to be killed so easily, thank you! But it seems to me you might mount two or three of the servants, and let them come with me; and I will call for Ray Germaine; and we’ll all go together to the woods, and, maybe, catch those runaway niggers that are frightening the lives out of people. I shot one of ’em, I know; and we can track him by his bleeding. There’s a reward offered, too, for whoever takes them up; and who knows but I may get it?”
“Set fire to the reward! That’s a good notion, though, about going in search of them when they’re wounded, Pet. Oh, you’re a jewel, Flibbertigibbet, and no mistake about it! There ought to be a song made about you. I’ll go, too; and there’s no time to lose. Pipe all hands, Firefly, while I go and look for my boots.”
“Now, why couldn’t he say ‘Call the servants,’ as well as ‘Pipe all hands’? which hasn’t a sensible sound at all,” said Pet, as she arose to obey. “Here, you! Jake, Tom, Bob!” she added, opening the door, and shouting at the top of her lungs, “come here as fast as you can. There’s murder in the camp!”
“Tumble up!” roared the admiral, from within.
“Tumble up!” repeated Pet, imitating the old sailor’s gruff roar as well as she could. “Uncle says so.”
Jake, and Tom, and Bob, most probably thinking, from the uproar, the house was on fire, “tumbled up” accordingly, precipitating themselves over one another, in their eagerness to be first on the field of battle.
“Clear out, and saddle four horses, and arm yourselves with boarding-pikes and cutlasses!” commanded the admiral, fastening a rusty sword to his side, and sticking a couple of pistols in his belt. “And then mount, and ride round to the front door, and stand by for further orders. Oh, the blamed black villain! He deserves to walk the plank, if ever any one did!”
All this time, the admiral had been going panting and puffing round, like a whale, arming himself with every conceivable weapon he could lay hands on, and vociferating, alternately, to himself, to “heave to!” and “stand from under!”
Pet had run out, and sprung upon Starlight, while the three alarmed servants rode behind her. And in a few moments the admiral made his appearance, and got astride a solemn, misanthropic-looking old roan, with many grimaces and contortions; for the admiral did not believe in riding himself, and would sooner have faced a tornado, any day, on the broad Atlantic, than ride three yards on horseback.
The night was still intensely dark, but perfectly calm, and by the command of Petronilla, the men had provided dark lanterns. All were now ready; but the admiral, like mostgenerals leading his troops to battle, considered it his duty to make a speech. Short, concise speeches on the eve of a battle are, I believe, most efficacious, and, acting on this conviction, Admiral Havenful’s was brief, pithy and to the point, beginning with an adjuration to his horse:
“Sho, Ringbone, sho! Steady’s the word, and steady it is! You are now going to fight the battles of your country, my boys, under the glorious Stars and Stripes. We ain’t got ’em here, but that’s no matter. The enemy’s before you; give ’em a raking broadside first, and then board ’em, sword in hand. The eyes of all the world are upon you now—or would be only they are sleeping about this time! Clap on all sail; and scud before the wind! Hoorah! Gee up, Ringbone!”
The effect of this spirited address could not be seen in the dark, and resolved at all hazards to practice what he preached, the admiral gave both heels a simultaneous dig into the ribs of his gloomy-looking steed, which had the effect of setting that ominously-named animal off at a shuffling dog-trot, or, rather, something between a trot and a canter, partaking of the nature of both, but being, in reality, neither. Up and down our fat admiral was churned, while groan after groan was jerked from his jolted bosom by the uneasy motion of his steed.
“She—pitches—like—an—old—hulk—on—a—swell!” came churned, word by word, like short grunts, from the lips of the admiral. “Straight—up—and—down—, and—I’ll—be—capsized—directly—by—the—confounded—old—brute!”
“Can’t you hurry, uncle?” exclaimed Pet, impatiently, reining in her fiery horse with difficulty, to the dead march of the admiral. “Here we’re going along like a funeral or a mourning procession, or a pilgrimage, or anything else that’s slow and stupid. Can’t you put some life into that spavined, knock-kneed, ring-boned, wheezy old nag of yours with your whip and spurs?”
“I—I’m—jolted—to—death—already—Pet. Every—timber—in—this—old—hulk—is—sprung. Couldn’t—go-a—step—further—if—old—Neptune—was—to—rise—from the—ocean—and—ask—it—of—me—as—a—particular—favor!” grunted the jolted admiral.
“Well, then, I can’t wait. Starlight won’t be held in,” said Pet. “I’ll ride on to old Barrens Cottage, and wake up Ray. He’ll have time to be up, and dressed, and mounted, before you reach there, at this solemn shuffle.”
And off went Pet. A very few minutes brought her to the cottage. Alighting from her horse, she rapped more decorously than was her wont, fearing to alarm Erminie.
Softly a window was raised above, and a night-capped head and a sooty face was popped out and a frightened voice demanded:
“Who’s dar?”
“It’s me, Lucy—Pet Lawless. Come down and open the door.”
“Golly!—What on yeth brings dat little debbil here, this onsarcumcised hour ob de night?” muttered Lucy, as she popped her black head in again, and shut down the window.
A moment after, and the door was opened by Lucy and Pet admitted. Lucy held a lamp in her hand, which displayed her in herrobe de nuit, and showing more black ankles than grace.
“Now, then! Is Ray in bed?” abruptly demanded Petronilla.
But Lucy, who expected this nocturnal visit was to announce some one was dead, or dying, on hearing this indecorous question, set down her lamp in silence, and looked scandalized and indignant.
“Well—don’t you hear me? Is Ray in bed?” repeated our impatient Nimrod, in a higher key.
“Miss Pet Lawsliss,” said Lucy, drawing herself up stiffly, and forgetting that her costume was more light than dignified, “you may t’ink dis yer is mighty fine, to come at de dead hours ob de night, to ax if young mars’r’s in bed, but it’s somefin I wouldn’t do, ef I is brack. Bress my soul! I’s allers tooken care not to be cotched in sich wices; but young ladies, now-a-days, as have no ’spect for demselves, can’t be ’spected—”
“Why, you hateful old thing!” exclaimed Pet, angrily. “I’dd like to know what business you have lecturing me? Vices, indeed! I declare! I have a good mind to lay my whip over your shoulders! Is Master Ray in bed? Tell me, or I’ll—leave you to guess what I’ll do to you.”
The noise of voices in violent altercation now brought Erminie to the scene of action, looking like an angel in her flowing snowy night-dress.
“Why, Pet, what is the matter?” she asked in alarm.
“Nothing, only I want Ray. Is he in bed? If he is, wake him up.”
“He is not home. He and Ranty went away somewhere, after tea, and haven’t come back. We thought they had gone to Heath Hill. Oh, Pet! has anything happened to them?” said Erminie, clasping her hands.
“Not as I know of. Like as not they’re at Heath Hill. I haven’t been there, myself, since early this morning. Now, don’t get frightened and be a goose, Minnie! I wanted Ray to help me in a splendid piece of—of—mischief; but as he’s not in, it’s no matter. Good-night, and pleasant dreams. I’m off.”
And off she was, like a shot, slamming the door behind her, after her usual fashion, and just succeeded in springing into her saddle as the slow cavalcade came tramping up.
Slowly as they rode, a short time brought them now to the forest-road. Just as they entered it, a figure came rushing out, shouting:
“Help! help! whoever you are, or he’ll bleed to death!”
“Why, it’s Ranty!” exclaimed Pet, in amazement, as she recognized the voice.
At the same moment, one of the men, lifting his lantern, let its rays stream upon the new-comer, and all started to behold a black, shining, ebony face.
“It’s a nigger!” howled the admiral. “Blow him out of the water, boys!”
“It’s not a nigger!” shouted the voice of Ranty. “If this soot was off, I’d be as white as you, if not considerably whiter. Come along; he’ll die soon, if he’s not dead already—poor fellow!”
“Who’ll die? Who are you talking about? Oh, Ranty! who is it?” exclaimed Pet, growing faint and sick with sudden apprehension.
“Why, Ray Germaine, to be sure! You’ll have something to brag of, Pet Lawless, after going and shooting Ray Germaine—won’t you, now? I always knew your luggingpistols round, like a female Blackbeard, would come to no good, and now, when you’re sentenced to State Prison for life, we’ll see how you like it. I wish to gracious there wasn’t a girl in the world!” vociferated Ranty, with a subdued howl of mingled grief and indignation.
For one dreadful moment, Pet reeled and nearly fell from her saddle. Then, with a long, wild, passionate cry, she leaped from her horse, and sped like an arrow from a bow into the woods.
She had not far to go. By one of the fitful flashes of sheet-lightning that at intervals illumined the dark, she saw a dark, slender boyish form lying motionless on the dew-drenched grass. The next instant, she was kneeling beside him, holding his head on her breast, and clasping his cold, stiff form in a wild, passionate embrace, as she cried out:
“Oh, Ray! I never meant it! I never,neverthought it was you! Oh, Ray! I shall die if you do!”
“Yes, it’s all very well to take on and make a fuss now,” said Ranty, savagely, giving her a pull away; “but if you kneel hugging him there, and keep ‘never, nevering’ till doom’s day, it won’t bring him to. Get out of this, and if you want to do any good, jump on Starlight and ride off as if Satan was after you (as he always is, I do believe), to Judestown, for a surgeon.”
“Oh, Ranty! do you think he will die?” exclaimed Pet, in a tone of such piercing anguish, that it thrilled through every heart but the angry one of Ranty, who considered she deserved to be punished for what she had done.
“Of course, he’ll die,” said Ranty, jerking her away, “if he’s not dead already—as I expect he is! Go for the surgeon—will you? They’ll want him for the coroner’s inquest, which must sit on the body to-morrow morning. And after you’ve sent the doctor to the cottage, the best thing you can do is to go and give yourself up to the sheriff and save him the trouble of coming to the house after you. Be off, now, and ride fast, if you ever want to atone for the mischief you have done. If you break your neck on the way it will be the greatest blessing bestowed on America since the Declaration of Independence was signed. Here, you fellows! off and get some branches, and spread your coats on them, and make a litter to carry poor Ray home.”
“Go for the doctor, Pet,” whispered the admiral. “I’ve got out of my reckoning again, somehow. Don’t see where the wind sits, for my part.”
Without a word, Pet leaped into her saddle and darted off, according to Ranty’s directions, as if “Satan was after her.” And then, superintended by Ranty, a rude litter was made and the cold, rigid form of Ray placed upon it. The negroes carefully raised it on their shoulders, and headed by Ranty and the admiral, the melancholy cavalcade set out for the cottage.
“How, in the name of Beelzebub, did this all happen?” was the worthy admiral’s first question, as he rode along beside his afflicted nephew.
“It’s my opinion Beelzebub, or some other of them old fellows, has had a hand in it, all through,” said Ranty, with another suppressed howl of grief. “The way of it, you see, Uncle Harry, was this: Pet would go to Dismal Hollow this morning in spite of all we could say or do. We told her there were savage negroes in the woods who would send her to kingdom come as fast as they would look at her; but it was only a heaving away of breath and eloquence to talk to her. Go she would and go she did. Well, I persuaded Ray to play a practical joke on her by blacking our faces and waylaying her on her road home, to see whether or not she was as courageous as she pretended to be, Ray consented, and we stopped her here, and by George! before we knew what we were about she fired at Ray, and then dashed off before you could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ Ray fell like a stone, and I, with a yell like an Indian war-whoop, rushed up to him, and raised him up, and asked him if he was killed. He said ‘no’ but that he thought he was pretty badly wounded in the shoulder, and I could feel his coat all wet with blood. If I had been a grown-up man, the way I would have sworn at Pet, just then, would have been a caution; but as I wasn’t, I contented myself with wishing I had a hold of her for about five minutes—that was all! A little later, Ray went and fainted as dead as a mackerel, and there we were, left like the two ‘Babes in the Wood,’ and I expect, like those unfortunate infants, the robins might have made us a grave, if you hadn’t come along in the nick of time to my relief. I didn’t like to leave poorRay wounded, and helpless, and alone there, and I couldn’t carry him home; so I was in just the tallest sort of a fix I ever want to be in again. So there’s the whole story, preface, marginal notes, dedication and all.”
“Keep her round a point or so,” said the admiral, thoughtfully; “I see breakers ahead!”
“Where?” asked Ranty, looking involuntatrily in the direction of the sea.
“If old Mother Ketura finds out Firefly has shot her boy, there’ll be mutiny among the crew,” said the admiral, in a mysterious whisper; “don’t tell her.”
“What will I say, then?” said Ranty; “suppose I tell her he and I were fighting a duel in a peaceable, friendly sort of way, just to keep our hand in, eh?”
“No, no, Ranty, boy! Stick to the truth; every lie you tell is recorded in the great log-book up above—” here the admiral removed his glazed hat reverentially. “Say he was shot accidentally——”
“On purpose,” interrupted Ranty.
“Or say he was shot by mistake—so he was, you know.”
“All right! I’ll fix it up; trust me to get up a work of fiction founded on fact, at a moment’s notice! Here we are at the cottage. Now for it!”
Ranty knocked, and again the window up above was raised; and the same sable head, a second time aroused from its slumbers, was protruded, and in sharp, irritated tones demanded:
“Who’s dar now, I’d like ter know?”
“A mighty polite beginning,” muttered Ranty—then raising his voice—“it’s me, Lucy—Ranty Lawless.”
“Ugh! might have known it was a Lawless! Never seed such a rampageous set—comin’ and rousin’ people out der beds dis hour de night. Fust de sister, den de brudder; fust de ’un, den de udder,” scolded Lucy, quite unconscious she was making poetry; “what in de name of Marster does yer want?”
“To get in, you sooty goblin!” shouted Master Ranty, in a rage. “Come down and open the door, and let us in; don’t stand there asking questions.”
“Belay your jawing tackle!” roared the admiral, in a voice like distant thunder.
“Deed, I won’t den! Does yer tink I’s no sort o’ ’steem for myself to go lettin’ in men dis hour de night? I hasn’t lived forty odd years to come to dis in my old ages o’ life.” And down the window went with a bang.
Before Ranty could burst out with a speech more vigorous than proper, the door was softly opened, and Erminie, like a stray seraph in her white floating dress, stood before them, with a face pale with undefined apprehension, and exclaiming, with clasped hands:
“Oh, Ranty, something has happened! what is it? I could not go asleep after Pet left, and I felt sure something was going to happen. Where’s Ray?”
“Hush, Erminie; don’t be frightened. Go in and get a light, and don’t wake your grandmother—go.”
“But tell me first what has happened. I won’t scream. I’ll be very good,” pleaded Erminie, her face growing whiter and whiter.
“Well, then—Ray’s got hurt pretty badly, and Pet’s gone for the doctor. Now don’t go crying, or making a time, but light a candle, and kindle a fire, and get some linen bandages and things; they’re always wanted when wounds are dressed. That’s a good girl—worth your weight in gold not to speak of diamonds. Hurry up!”
Pale and trembling, but soon wonderfully quiet, Erminie obeyed, but started back with a faint cry of terror, when the light fell on the black faces of the boys.
“Hush, Erminie! give me some soap and water ’till I wash all this black off before the doctor comes,” said Ranty. “I dare say, I ain’t very pretty to look at just now; but never mind; a good scrubbing will set it all right. And now get some more, and wash the black off Ray’s face, too; I fancy you’ll find him white enough underneath by this time.”
Still trembling, and with a face perfectly colorless, Erminie obeyed; and while Ranty was giving his frontispiece a vigorous scrubbing, Erminie was more gently bathing that of Ray. When the dusky paint was off, the deadly pallor of his face seemed in such striking contrast, that she barely repressed a cry of passionate grief. Cold, and still, and white he lay, like one already dead. Then Ranty, with a face shining from the combined influences of sincere grief, and a severe application of soap and water, went to thedoor to see, like Sister Annie in “Bluebeard,” if there was “anybody coming.” Very soon he returned with the welcome intelligence that he heard the tramp of approaching horses; and the next moment Pet burst wildly into the room, followed by a grave, old, baldheaded gentleman—the physician of Judestown.
“Oh, doctor, will he die?” passionately exclaimed Pet, looking up, with a face as white as Raymond’s own.
“Hope not; can’t tell just yet,” said the doctor, as he proceeded to rip up Ray’s coat-sleeve, and remove the saturated coat.
The wound was in the shoulder; and the doctor, with very little difficulty, extracted the bullet, dressed the wound, and proceeded to administer restoratives. Then seeing Pet’s white, terrified face, and with black eyes looking at him so beseechingly, he chucked her good-naturedly under the chin, and said:
“Don’t be afraid, little blackbird! Master Ray’s good as half-a-dozen dead people yet. All you have got to do is, to nurse him carefully for a couple of weeks, and you’ll see him alive and kicking as briskly as ever by the end of that time.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Pet, drawing a long, deep breath and dropping into a chair, she covered her face with her hands.
The doctor now gave a few directions to Erminie, and then took his leave. The admiral followed him to the door, and whispered:
“Doctor, will you just stand off and on around here, till the lad in there gets seaworthy again? I’ll stand the damages, and don’t you say anything about it.”
The doctor nodded, and rode off; and then the admiral, seeing he could be of no use in the cottage, mounted, with many groans and grunts, Ringbone, and wended his way, followed by his three valorous henchmen, to the White Squall.
“Ranty, go home,” said Pet; “we don’t want you. You can tell papa, if he asks you, how it all happened, and say I ain’t coming home until to-morrow. As I’ve shot Ray, I’m going to stay here and nurse him; so be off!”
“Puck found it handier to commenceWith a certain share of impudence;Which passes one off as learned and clever,Beyond all other degrees whatever.”—Song of Old Puck.
Judge Lawless was in a rage! If you have ever seen an angry lion, an enraged bear, or a young lady with “her mantle pinned awry,” you may conceive in some measure the state of mind in which that gentlemen trod up and down his library floor, while he listened to Ranty’s account of Pet’s exploit of the previous night.
Judge Lawless was a man of forty or so, and had been a widower for five years. His face was not particularly prepossessing though extremely handsome; his haughty, supercilious expression; his cold and somewhat sinister eyes, and slightly sensual mouth, were, on the whole, rather repelling. He prided himself, as a general thing, on his gentlemanly urbanity; but on the present occasion he quite forgot all his customary politeness, and paced up and down in a towering passion.
His son and heir, Master Ranty, had ensconced himself in a velvet-cushioned easy-chair; and with his feet on a stool, and both hands stuck in his coat-pockets, took things very coolly indeed.
“To think that my daughter should act in such an outrageous manner!” exclaimed the judge, passionately; “making herself a town’s talk, with her mad actions. What other young lady in her station of life would associate familiarly with those people at Dismal Hollow, who are a low set as far as I understand; or ride through those infested woods after night? I shall put an immediate stop to it, if I have to lock her up in the attic on bread and water. I have a good mind to keep her on bread and water for a month or so, and see if that will not cool the fever in her blood! Andyou, sir,” he added, stopping in his excited walk, and turning furiously upon Ranty, “deserve a sound thrashing for playing such a trick upon your sister. It would have served that young puppy Germaine right if she had put an end to his worthless life. I never liked that boy, and I command you instantly to cease your intimacy with him. If your uncle chooses to make a fool of himself, adopting every beggar’s brat for aprotégé, that’s no reason why I should follow his lead. Now, sir, let me hear no more of this. As the son of Judge Lawless, you should look for better companionship than the grandson of an old gipsy.”
“I don’t know where I’d find one, then,” said Ranty, sturdily. “There isn’t a boy from Maine to Louisiana a better fellow than Ray Germaine. He can beat me at everything he lays his hands to, from mathematics down to pulling a stroke-oar; and there wasn’t another boy at school he couldn’t knock into a cocked hat.”
And with this spirited declaration, Master Ranty thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, and planted his feet more firmly than ever on the stool.
“How often must I tell you, sir,” vociferated his father, in a voice of thunder, “to drop this vulgar habit you have got of talking slang? I presume your accomplished friend, Germaine, has taught you that, as well as your manifold other acquirements,” he added, with a sneer.
“No, he didn’t,” said Ranty, stoutly; “and hecouldknock them into a cocked hat, if not further, too! Ray Germaine’s a tiptop fellow, and I shouldn’t wonder if he’d be a President some day. It will be the country’s loss if he ain’t—that’s all.”
“Silence, sir!” thundered the judge. “How dare you have the brazen effrontery to speak in this manner to me? You have improved under your sister’s tuition rapidly, since you came home! Go immediately to old Barrens Cottage, and bring Petronilla here. I shall see that she does not go there again in a hurry.”
Ranty rose, with anything but a sweet expression, and went out, shaking his fist grimly at the door, I am sorry to say, once it was safely shut between them.
On reaching the cottage, he found Ray flushed and feverish with Pet and Erminie sitting on either side of him.
“Pet, go home; father says so,” was his first brusque salute.
“I won’t then—not a step!” said the obstinate Pet.
“He’ll be after you with a horsewhip mighty sudden, if you don’t,” said Ranty. “I wish you could see how he’s been blazing away all the morning. I reckon he’s stamping up and down the library yet, nursing his wrath to keep it warm till he gets hold of you.”
“Well,” said the disrespectful vixen, “if he’s a mind to get mad for nothing, I can’t help it. I shan’t go.”
“Oh, Pet! you’d better,” said Erminie, anxiously. “He’ll be so very angry. I can take care of Ray, you know; and your father will scold you dreadfully.”
“La! I know that! I’m in for a scolding, anyway, so I may as well earn it. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, you know.”
“Oh, Pet! don’t stand bothering here all day,” broke in Ranty, impatiently. “I’ve got to bring you home, anyway, and I suppose you think a fellow has nothing to do but stay here and wait ’till you’re ready. Father will half-murder you, if you don’t come right straight along.”
“Yes; go, Pet—please do,” pleaded Erminie. “I had rather you would.”
“Oh, well, if I’m to be turned out I suppose I must,” said Pet, taking her hat. “I’m ready, Ranty. Good-by, Minnie; I’ll be back after dinner.”
“I don’t know about that,” muttered Ranty, springing into the saddle. “People ain’t got out of attics so easily as you think.”
A rapid gallop of half an hour brought them to Heath Hill, a gently-sloping eminence, on which stood an imposing mansion of gray sandstone, the aristocratic home of Judge Lawless, the one great potentate of Judestown and environs.
The judge, from the window of the library, saw his son and daughter approach, and flinging himself into the lounging chair Ranty had vacated, he rung the bell, and ordered the servant who answered his summons to send Miss Petronilla up-stairs directly.
“Now, you’ll catch it, Pet,” said Ranty, with a malicious chuckle.
“Will I? Wait ’till you see,” retorted Pet, as, gatheringup her riding-habit in her hand, she prepared to follow the servant up-stairs.
With his face contracted into an awful frown, destined to strike terror into the flinty heart of his self-willed little heiress, the judge sat, awaiting her coming. In she came, her hat cocked jauntily on one side of her saucy little head; her round, polished, boyish forehead laughing out from between clusters of short, crispy, jetty curls; her black eyes all ablaze with anticipated defiance; her rosy mouth puckered up, ready to vindicate what she considered her legitimate rights. Not the least daunted was Pet by her father’s look, as swinging her riding-whip in one hand, she stood erect and fearless before him.
“Well, Miss Petronilla Lawless,” began the judge, in a measured, sarcastic tone; “no doubt you are very proud of last night’s achievement. You think you have done something excessively clever now—don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” said Pet; “and so would you and everybody else—if I had only shot a real nigger, instead of Ray Germaine. It wasn’t my fault. I’d just as lief shoot one as t’other.”
“No doubt. The race of Joan D’Arc is not quite extinct, I see. How will you like to have your name bandied from lip to lip ’till it becomes a common by-word in every low tavern and hovel in Judestown?”
“Well, I shouldn’t mind. I like to be talked about; and it isn’t the first time I have given them something to talk about, either.”
“No; but it shall be the last,” said the judge, rising sternly. “I command you, now, to go no more to that cottage. If you dare to disobey me, it will be at your peril.”
“Why, where’s the harm of going, I want to know?” demanded Pet, indignantly.
“I am not in the habit of giving reasons for my conduct, Miss Lawless,” said the judge, severely; “but in this instance I will say, it is exceedingly unbecoming in a young lady to nurse a youth who is a stranger to her. No other young lady would think for a moment of such a thing.”
“Well, I ain’t a young lady,” said Pet, “no more than Ray is a stranger. And if Iwasa young lady, and wentand shot a young man, I ought to help to nurse him well again, I should think.”
“What you think, Miss Lawless, is of very little consequence, allow me to tell you. Your duty is to do as I say, without presuming to ask questions. I have hitherto excused your wild, rude conduct, and made every allowance for your want of proper female training; but really, your conduct is getting so outrageous there is no telling where it will end. My intention is, therefore, to put a stop to it at once.”
Pet’s eyes flashed open defiance, and her face assumed a look of resolute determination; but she prudently said nothing.
“I have resolved, therefore, Miss Lawless,” said the judge, re-seating himself, with a look of haughty inflexibility quite overpowering; “to send you immediately to school. I wrote some time ago to a lady who keeps a private boarding-school for young girls, and she has promised to take charge of you at any time. It is an exceedingly strict establishment, and the severe discipline there maintained will have the good effect, I hope, of taming down your glaring improprieties. As I feel that keeping you here any longer is like holding a keg of gunpowder over a blazing furnace, I intend setting out with you this very afternoon. You need dresses and various other things, I know, which I am not altogether qualified to procure; I will, therefore, leave a sum of money in the hands of Mrs. Moodie, sufficient to purchase you a complete outfit, and such other things as you may want. It is useless for you to remonstrate, Miss Lawless,” said the judge, with a wave of his jeweled hand; “for nothing you can say will move me from my purpose. I anticipated violent opposition on your part, and I am quite prepared for it. Go, I have said, this afternoon, and go you shall. If you attempt to oppose my will, you shall receive the severe punishment you have already merited.”
The judge stroked his dark, glossy mustache, and looked threateningly at Pet; but to his surprise that eccentric young lady offered not the slightest opposition. When she first heard his intention of sending her away to school, she had started violently, and her color came and went rapidly; but as he went on, her eyes dropped, and an inexplicable smile flickered around her red lips. Now she stood before him,with demurely cast down eyes—the very personification of meekness and docility; had he only seen the insufferable light of mischief blazing under their long, drooping, black lashes, resting on the thin crimson cheeks, what a different tale he would have read!
“Very well, sir,” said Pet, meekly; “I suppose I can’t help it, and have got to put up with it. I don’t know as I should mind going to school, either, for a change. Mayn’t I call and see Erminie before I go, papa?”
“Hem-m-m! ah—I’ll see about it,” said the judge, rather perplexed by this unusual submissiveness, and intensely relieved, too, if the truth must be told; for in his secret heart he dreaded a “scene” with his stormy little daughter. “You may call in, for a moment, as we go past, and say good-by; but once in school, you will form new acquaintances among your own standing in society, and drop all the low connections you have formed around here. The daughter of Judge Lawless,” said that gentleman, drawing himself up, “is qualified, by birth and social position, to take her place among the highest and most exclusive in the land, and must forget that she ever associated with—paupers!”
A streak of fiery red flamed across the dark face of Pet, and her black eyes flew up, blazing indignantly at this insult to her friends. But the next moment she remembered herrôle, and down fell the long lashes again; and Pet stood as meek and demure as a kitten on the eve of scratching.
“This is all, I believe, Miss Lawless,” said the judge, resuming his customary, suave blandness, and feeling intensely proud of his own achievement in having awed into submission the hitherto dauntless Pet; “you may go now, and if you have any trifling preparations to make before starting, you will have sufficient time before dinner to accomplish them. I shall expect when we reach Mrs. Moodie’s, you will try to behave yourself like a young lady, as my daughter will be expected to behave. You must drop your rude, brusque ways, your slang talk, amazonian bearing, and become quiet, and gentle, and ladylike, and accomplished. You understand?”
“Yes, sir!” murmured Pet, putting her forefinger in her mouth.
“Very well, I hope you do. Go now.”
With her long lashes still drooping over her wickedly-scintillating eyes, her finger still stuck in her mouth, Pet meekly walked out of the august “presence,” and closed the library-door, but no sooner was she safely outside, than a change most wonderful to behold came over the spirit of her dream. Up flew the long eyelashes, revealing the dancing eyes, all ablaze with the anticipation of fun and frolic; erect towered the little form, as she turned; and facing the door, applied her thumb to her nose, flourished her four fingers in a gesture more expressive than elegant, and exclaimed:
“Oh!won’tI be good, though! won’t I be lady-like! won’t I forget my friends! won’t I be so quiet, and gentle, and good, that they’ll make a saint out of me pretty soon! won’t I be a pocket-edition of ‘St. Rose of Lima!’ Maybe I won’t; that’s all!”
Pet was as busy as a nailer until dinner was announced, packing up such things as she wished to take with her to school.
Great was the amazement of Ranty, when at the dinner-table his father, in pompous tones, announced his immediate departure with Pet. Ranty glanced at her, as she sat quietly looking in her plate, and being somewhat wider awake in respect to her than his father, inwardly muttered:
“Pet’s up to something; I can tell that whenever she looks particularly quiet and saintly, like she does now; there’s always ‘breakers ahead,’ as uncle would say. Mrs. Moodie will find her hands full when she gets our Pet. She’ll discover she’s caught a tartar, I’ll be bound?”
Immediately after dinner, black Debby was ordered to dress Miss Pet for her journey, while the judge went to his own apartment to make himself as irresistible as possible. In half an hour both were ready. Pet was handed into the carriage by her father, and waved a smiling adieu to Ranty. The judge took his seat beside her, and the two superb carriage-horses, flashing with silver-mounted harness, started off at a rapid pace.
As they came within sight of the cottage, Pet who had been lying back silently among the cushions, started up, exclaiming:
“Stop at the cottage, John; I’m going in there for a moment:”
The coachman drew up, and Pet sprung out.
“I will give you just five minutes to make your adieux,” said the judge, drawing out his watch; “if you are not back in that time, I shall go after you.”
Pet’s eyes again defiantly flashed, but without deigning to reply, she ran into the cottage.
Erminie met her at the door, and looked her surprise at seeing the stately equipage of Judge Lawless stop at the cottage, and Miss Lawless herself all arrayed for a journey.
“How is Ray?” was Pet’s first question.
“Just as he was this morning. Where are you going, Pet?”
“He is no worse?”
“No. Are you going away?”
“Has the doctor been here since?”
“Yes, he has just gone. Where are you going, Pet?”
“Oh—to school!”
“To school! going away!” echoed Erminie in dismay.
“Yes; going to a dismal old boarding-school, where I am to walk, talk, eat, pray, and sneeze by rule. Ain’t it nice?”
“Oh, Pet, I am so sorry!”
“Well, I’m not! I expect to have a real nice time. Everybody mightn’t see the fun of it; but I do! I intend to finish my education, and be back in a week!”
“Oh, Pet! I don’t know what I shall do when you are gone; I will be so lonesome,” said Erminie, her sweet blue eyes filling with tears.
“Why, didn’t I tell you I’d be back in a week? I will, too. There’s an old dragon there, Mrs. Moodie—I’ve heard of her before—and she’s to hammer learning into me. Oh, I’ll dose her!”
“Won’t you write me a letter, Pet?” said Erminie, who was sobbing now, and clinging to her friend’s neck.
“To be sure I will, and I’ll bring it myself, to save postage. Don’t you be afraid, Minnie. I can take care of Pet Lawless, and won’t let her be put down by no one. Good-by, now; I’ve only got five minutes, and I guess they’re up by this time. Now don’t cry and take on, Minnie; you’ll see I’ll learn so fast that I’ll be sent home finished in a week!”
And with these mysterious words, Pet gave Erminie a parting kiss, and ran from the cottage just as the judge put his head out from the carriage to call her.
The journey now proceeded uninterruptedly. They remained that night at a hotel, and continued their journey next morning.
A little after noon, they reached the four-story building where Mrs. Moodie kept her costly and exclusive boarding establishment for the young female aristocracy of the land, and “trained up” (as her circulars had it) the rising female generation in all the branches of an English, French, musical, and religious education.
Judge Lawless and his daughter were shown into a magnificently-furnished drawing-room, where a “cullud pusson” took the gentleman’s card and went off in search of the proprietress (if the word is admissible) of the establishment.
Fifteen minutes later, the rustle of silk resounded in the hall. Pet drew herself up straight as a ramrod, compressed her lips, cast down her eyes, folded her hands, and looked the very picture of a timid, bashful, shy little country-girl. Then the door opened, and magnificent in a four-flounced plaid silk, with a miraculous combination of lace and ribbons floating from her head, a tall, yellow, sharp-looking lady of middle-age floated in, and with a profound courtesy to the judge that made her four flounces balloon out around her, after the fashion of children when making “cheeses,” dropped into a sofa, half-buried in a maze of floating drapery.
“This is Miss Lawless, I presume?” said Mrs. Moodie, with a bland smile and a wave of her hand toward Pet.
“Yes, madam, this is my daughter; and I consider it my duty to tell you beforehand that I am afraid she will occasion you a great deal of trouble.”
“Oh! I hope not! You are a good little girl—are you not, my dear?”—with a sweet smile to Pet. “In what way, may I ask, my dear sir?”
“In many ways, madam. She is, in the first place, unbearably wild, and rude, and self-willed, and—I regret to say—disobedient.”
“Is it possible? I really would never have imaginedit!” cried the lady, glancing in surprise and incredulity toward the shy, quiet looking little girl, sitting demurely in her chair, and not venturing to lift her eyes. “I think I have tamed far more desperate characters than this; in fact, I may say I know I have. Oh! I will have no trouble with your little girl! Why, she is one of the quietest looking little creatures I think I ever saw.”
The Judge glanced toward Pet, and was half inclined to fly into a rage at discovering her so unlike herself, giving the direct lie, as it were, to his assertions.
“Come over here, my love,” said the lady, holding out her hand with a bland smile to Pet. “I want to see you.”
Pet, after the manner of little girls when they are frightened or embarrassed, instead of complying, rubbed her knuckles into her eyes, and pretended to cry.
“Get up, and do as you are told! How dare you act so?” said the judge, forgetting his “company manners” in his rage at what he could easily see was clever acting on Pet’s part.
“Now, pray, my dear sir, don’t frighten the poor little thing,” cried the dulcet tones of the lady. “Little girls are always nervous and frightened when first sent to school. Come here, my love; don’t be afraid of me!”
“Go!” thundered the judge, with a brow like a thunder-cloud.
Pet, still sniffling, got up and went over to Mrs. Moodie.
“What is your name, my dear?” smiled the lady, taking Pet’s little brown hand in her own snowy fingers.
“Pet-Pet-ronilla,” sobbed the elf.
“Now, you must not cry, dear; we will take the best of care of you here. Of course, you will miss your papa for a few days; but after that we will get along very nicely. Were you ever at school before?”
“Ye-es, ma-am.”
“What did you learn, love?”
“I don’t know.”
“Petronilla?” sternly began the judge.
“Now, pray, my dear sir,” remonstrated the silken tones of the lady, “leave it to me. Just see how you are frightening the poor little thing. You can read, my dear, of course!”
“Yes, ma-am.”
“What books have you read, love? have you read many?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What was their names?”
“‘Jack and the Bean-stalk;’ ‘The Goose with the Golden Egg;’ ‘Little Red—’”
“Oh! my dear, I don’t mean those! Have you read nothing else?”
“No, ma’am; only a spelling-book.”
“Can you write?”
“Yes, ma’am, when somebody holds my hand.”
“Have you studied grammar and geography? I suppose not, though.”
“She has, madam; at least she commenced,” said the judge.
“Ah, indeed! What is English Grammar, love?”
“A little book with a gray cover,” said Pet.
“No, no! What does English Grammar teach?”
“I don’t know—it never teached me anything; it was Mr. Hammer.”
“Oh, dear me! You are rather obtuse, I fear. Perhaps you know more of geography, though. Can you tell me how the earth is divided?”
“It ain’t divided!” said Pet, stoutly. “It’s all one piece!”
“Ah! I fear your teacher was none of the best,” said the lady, shaking her head. “We shall have to remedy all these defects in your education, however, as well as we can. I hope to send you a very different little girl home, judge.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said the judge, rising. “Farewell, madam. Good-by, Petronilla; be a good girl—remember.”
“Oh, I’ll remember!” said Pet, significantly, accepting her father’s farewell salute, with a great deal ofsang froid.
Mrs. Moodie politely bowed her stately guest out, and then turning to Petronilla, said:
“The young ladies are all in the class-room studying, my dear. Would you prefer going there, or shall I have you shown to your room?”
“I’ll go where the girls—I mean the young ladies are,” said Pet, following the rustling lady up-stairs.
“Very well, this way, then,” said madam, turning into a long hall with large white folding-doors at the end, through which came drowsily the subdued hum of recitation.
“Well; I think I have done the bashful up beautifully!” mentally exclaimed Petronilla. “I reckon I’ve amazed papa. Maybe I won’t surprise them some if not more, before this night’s over. Oh! won’t I dose them, though?”
And, chuckling inwardly, our wicked elf followed the stately Mrs. Moodie, who marched on ahead, in blissful ignorance of the diabolical plot brewing in Pet’s mischief-loving head.