It was hardly daylight when my little black attendant brought a glass of mint-julep to my bed-side, and told me it was time to rise; and I had hardly refused the beverage, which I did not choose to take that morning, of all others, when Zed hobbled in with his white wool, and his face as polished as an ebony cabinet, all glowing with excitement. I understood quite well that he knew all about the business in hand, and he seemed to look upon himself as a sort of squire to a knight arming for the tilt-yard, eager and anxious for his master to do great deeds, and never for a moment doubting his success. The morning was a dull and cheerless one, though it was warm enough. The sky was covered; and a thin, white mist hung over the ground, not sufficient to hide objects, even at two or three hundred yards' distance, but sufficient to render them somewhat hazy and indistinct. In fact, it was a morning quite in harmony with the business I was about. However, I was soon dressed and in the drawing-room, where I found Billy Byles already up and waiting for me.
"I hope you have taken your mint-julep," he said; "it will steady your hand."
"Thank you," I answered; "my hand is quite steady enough, and I don't think brandy would make it any firmer."
"Well, come and take some breakfast, at all events," said my host; "never fight upon an empty stomach."
"I have been obliged to do so before now," I answered; "but I will take some breakfast if we have time; for, to say truth, I am very hungry."
"Oh, plenty of time, plenty of time," answered Mr. Byles. "I always like to be on the ground first, so I took care you should be called early enough. Wheatley will be here in a minute. I woke him myself, and the lazy dog said the great bore of fighting duels was the getting up in the mornings." We had not been five minutes at table when Mr. Wheatley appeared, just as gay and unconcerned as ever; and although I could not help feeling an impression of some heavy thing impending, I joined in the conversation as cheerfully as I could, feeling that it was of no use to think of what was coming, when it could not be avoided. It had been agreed that we should proceed to the ground in Mr. Wheatley's double-seated carriage; and about twenty minutes after we sat down to breakfast, it was announced that the vehicle was at the door. When I went out I found three or four negroes, beside Zed, surrounding the carriage. Mr. Wheatley and I took our seats in front: Billy Byles sprang into the hinder division: Zed scrambled in beside him, with the pistol-case under his arm, and away we went towards the place of encounter. The moment we started I could see two or three of the negro boys take to their heels and run on towards the woods as fast as their legs could carry them; and I could not but think of the speech of the poor old Scotch nobleman when going to be beheaded: "You need not run so fast, boys: there will be no fun till I come." Billy Byles acted as pilot, directing Mr. Wheatley how he was to drive; and I must say a rougher ride I never took in my life; for we went over fields without the slightest pretension to a road; fences we pulled down unceremoniously to let us pass; and I certainly did think more than once that the whole business would end in our getting our necks broken. I was afraid, too, that various evolutions and man[oe]uvres which we had to perform would make us late; and more than once I took out my watch to see how the time went.
"Plenty of time, plenty of time," said Billy Byles. "You see that wood there; well, that's the Hunter-wood, and we just cross the narrow part by the path into the savannah, and there we are." The wood was soon reached, and out we all got, for the carriage could go no further.
"Here, give me the pistols," said Mr. Byles; "you stay here by the horses: we shall be back in half an hour." And leading the way by a very narrow path, he speedily brought us to that long strip of open ground which I have before described, and which I had passed in pleasant talk with Bessy Davenport. We now struck it considerably higher up, however, and at no great distance from the high road to Jerusalem. But it had a much more melancholy aspect now than when I first saw it. The mist which I have mentioned rested more heavily in that narrow avenue; and the trees cut off all the rays of the sun, who was struggling, as he rose, to disperse the gray clouds that covered the sky. All was sombre and cheerless-looking, and Billy Byles laid down the pistol-case under a live oak-tree, and rubbed his hands as if it had been winter. I gazed up and down the long open strip, to see if my antagonist was apparent, and Mr. Byles exclaimed, in a congratulatory tone, "First on the field, you see, Sir Richard! but we have five minutes yet to spare. I won't open the case till they come, for this unpleasant mist may damp the tools."
"Rather bat-fowling work," said Mr. Wheatley. "Lucky you chose pistols, for I don't think one could see at rifle-range." Before the five minutes were over, a gig, with two men on horseback, appeared towards the high-road end of the savannah, halted there, and having tied the horses to the trees, came forward on foot towards the place where we were standing. Before they came quite close, they paused again; and a somewhat sharp discussion seemed to go on between Mr. Robert Thornton, whom I could now distinguish, and one of his companions, for their gestures were exceedingly animated. They then approached, and Mr. Thornton saluted me by touching his hat, to which I returned a silent bow.
"Well, Sir Richard," he said, "for my own part, I don't see why you should not apologize even now, if you like it."
"I have no apology to make," I replied; "and, moreover, we came here, I think, to act, and not to talk." As I said this, I turned away and took a step or two up and down the meadow, leaving the gentlemen who had accompanied me and Mr. Thornton to make their arrangements as usual. They were all pretty well skilled and experienced in the business, I imagine; for the pistols were loaded and the ground measured out very rapidly. I was not sorry for this, as I had nothing to amuse myself with but watching some half-dozen black faces, peeping out from behind the trees at the end of the wood.
"Now, Sir Richard," said Mr. Byles, stepping up to me with a pistol in his hand, "you will have the goodness to stand here, where I have put down my glove. The words are, 'One, two, three, fire!' but you can fire any time after the word 'Three.'"
"Mind, you keep your arm to your side, and cover your angles," said Mr. Wheatley.
"I will take care," I answered, with a smile; "I am not quite inexperienced in such affairs."
"I suppose not, from the way you take it," he replied. And when they had placed me in a proper position, my two friends withdrew. I could see that my adversary, Mr. Robert Thornton, marched up to his ground with every appearance of boldness. I had been rather inclined, by his preceding conduct, to think that he was somewhat nervous; but no symptom of timidity was now apparent, except indeed a slight touch of swagger in his walk and manner. As he stood before me, I measured him deliberately with my eyes, and thought I had him very sure. He stood on a somewhat angular position, which I was sorry for, as I did not wish to injure him severely, or run the risk of killing him; though I certainly did intend to wound him so as to prevent him doing any more mischief for the present. There seemed to be some little talk between himself, his second, and another friend--about what I know not; and then the two gentlemen left him, and a moment after the words were given by Mr. Wheatley. A slight degree of hesitation, remorse, or what you will, made me reserve my shot till the word "Fire!" had been pronounced. My antagonist fired at the word "Three," but his ball went quite wild. I then raised my hand and fired, being perfectly certain of hitting him, I thought somewhere about the elbow. I fancied, too, that I saw him stagger a little, but he did not fall; and he exclaimed, loudly,--
"Give me another pistol!" Billy Byles and Mr. Wheatley both ran up to me with a fresh weapon, and while the former put it in my hands, the latter whispered,--
"Mind what you are about. He will aim better this time; you have grazed him, and his blood is up. Don't try to spare him, or you'll get killed yourself." It all passed in a moment, and they were gone back to their places before I well knew what had occurred. I continued, however, to eye my antagonist deliberately while the words were spoken, and I could see that he was scanning me in the same manner. This time we both fired together at the word "Three;" and, almost before I heard the report, I felt a smart blow upon the arm, which made me recoil a little with a sensation as if a piece of hot iron had been run into the flesh; but Robert Thornton fell back at once, amidst the long grass, and I lost sight of him. My two friends were up with me in a moment.
"You are wounded! you are wounded!" said Billy Byles, with friendly anxiety. "I saw you stagger; you must be wounded."
"But slightly," I replied; "take the pistol, and just get my handkerchief out of the pocket." I had learned a little of surgery in India, and saw, by the jerking of the stream of blood which was flowing from my arm, that some artery was cut. I therefore made my two friends fold the handkerchief and tie it tightly some way above the wound, by which means the bleeding was soon reduced in quantity, though it continued to ooze a little, though not sufficient to do any harm. I then turned my eyes to the spot where my opponent had stood. Three persons had now gathered round him, one of whom had raised Thornton's head and shoulders on his knee.
"You have done for him!" said Billy Byles; "he seems as dead as a mackerel."
"I hope not," I replied. "I did not intend it; but he stood awkwardly, and it was impossible to be sure of one's shot. I do hope he is not killed."
"Pooh, nonsense!" ejaculated Mr. Wheatley. "What did he come here for, but to kill you, or be killed himself? We had better make the best of our way to my buggy, and get home as soon as possible, for I suspect the ball is still in your arm, and we must send for the surgeon."
"I will see how he is, first," I answered; and walked quietly up to the spot where my antagonist lay. His friends were perfectly gentlemanly and polite; and the two who were standing up bowed civilly as I approached.
"I am afraid he is gone, Sir Richard," said one of them.
"I hope not," I replied, with a sensation I cannot describe. "I can assure you I did not intend it; I only sought to wound him."
"You did that at the first fire," answered the other. "See here--your second shot has gone through his chest." I now perceived that the blood was streaming from one wound in the fleshy part of the back, just below the shoulder-blade, and behind the right arm. This seemed of no great consequence; for it was clear it had not penetrated the chest; but there was another wound much more formidable in appearance, where the ball had entered the side, just in front of the arm, and had issued out at the other side a little further forward. That it had touched the lungs I could not doubt; but though I do not know much of anatomy, I felt sure that the heart must have escaped, notwithstanding the death-like paleness of his face, and the state of complete insensibility in which he lay. I knelt down, and put my fingers on his wrist; the pulse was very feeble, but still beating free, and I said,--
"Gentlemen, he is not dead, and I should hope will soon recover. If you would take my advice, you would try and restrain the bleeding as much as possible. Get him to the nearest house, and send for a surgeon immediately. The shaking of a carriage may produce great hemorrhage; but there are a number of negroes about who can carry him more easily."
"Hi, boys!" cried Billy Byles; "come here, come here!" And immediately at least a dozen black men and lads ran out from the woods towards the scene of action.
"You had better get home yourself, sir," said the gentleman who had before spoken to me; "for I see you also are wounded, and the blood is running off the tips of your fingers. One thing I will say, Sir Richard; a fairer fight I never beheld. You have behaved quite like a gentleman, and a man of honour, and a d----d good shot too." Seeing that I could be of no further service, I bowed and retired from the ground. As we walked along through the little path in the wood, it became a question where I was to go. Mr. Byles wanted me to return with him to his house; but Mr. Wheatley, more prudently, urged that I should go back at once to Mr. Stringer's. "It is nearer by a mile," he said; "and, besides, he will have plenty of women there to take care of him. He-nurses are always bad ones, my friend; and, moreover, there may be certain persons who may tease their little hearts to death, to know how he is going on, who would not venture to come to the house of a gay bachelor to see him." This latter argument was very conclusive in my own mind; but I made light of the wound, saying, "Oh, this is a mere nothing. I shall be well in a few days." Although, to say sooth, I felt very unpleasantly faint. We soon reached the carriage, which we found tied to a tree; for Zed, it appears, would not be debarred the pleasure of sharing in the day's sport. He came hobbling after us, the next instant, however; untied the horses, placed the pistol-case under the seat, and after fumbling for a minute in a corner, produced an old champagne-bottle, which he held out to me, saying,--
"Here, master, take a drop o' dis--good old rye; you look mighty white, and bleeding like piggie. My ole massa never go out to fight without taking some rye wid him in case of de worse." I took some of the whisky, which, to say the truth, was not altogether unnecessary, for I had lost a good deal of blood. Then, requesting my two companions to tie the handkerchief still tighter, I got into the carriage, and we drove off towards Mr. Stringer's.
As we came in sight of Beavors, the fact arose suddenly to my remembrance that, although Mr. Stringer and his family themselves were not very early in their habits, Bessy Davenport was generally up and about shortly after daylight. In spite of all that I could do, I was covered with blood; my white summer trousers were soaked and dabbled; and there was no cloak or great coat in the carriage which I could throw over me to conceal the ghastly spectacle. I knew that whatever might be her feelings towards me, the sight would alarm and agitate her; and, turning my head towards Mr. Byles, inquired if we could not get into the house by some back way, which would enable me to reach my room unperceived, and remove the "bloody witness from my person."
"Oh, yes, master," answered Zed, taking the words out of Mr. Byles's mouth, and apparently divining instantly what was passing in my mind. "Master Wheatley drive round by the right hand road to the back. Then we go through the pantry-hall, and up the little back-staircase, which runs behind Miss Bessy's room. But she never use it; she always go down the great stairs. Then your room is just opposite, and you can slip in in a minute." Zed's plan seemed admirable, though it did not turn out as well as we expected. We reached the back of the house, indeed, unperceived, and entered what Zed called the pantry-hall. It is wonderful how often when we have laid a scheme for any purpose as perfectly as human calculation could arrange it, some little circumstance occurs which does not usually happen more than once in a year, and throws all our well-conceived arrangements wrong. The very moment after, leaning on Mr. Wheatley's arm, I had entered the pantry-hall by the one door, in came Bessy Davenport by the other, with a bunch of flowers in her hand, exclaiming, "Henry, Henry, give me a glass of water." The next instant her eyes fell upon me, and she turned deadly pale. Everything was forgotten in the agitation and terror of the moment--reserve, playfulness, coquetry, if you will, the presence of strangers. She dropped the flowers at once upon the floor, sprang forward, and threw her arm partly round me, as if to support me, exclaiming, "Oh, Richard, Richard! you are hurt! you are wounded! I knew it, I was sure of it. My heart told me it would be so." The best medicine that physician ever compounded could not have done me half so much good as her words and her look. "I am very little hurt indeed, Bessy," I answered. "A little blood makes a great show, and it all comes from my arm, which will be well, I dare say, in a couple of days."
"Only your arm, only your arm," she said. "Oh, Richard, do not deceive me."
"I do not indeed," I answered; "it is only my arm. Ask Mr. Wheatley."
"But you are so pale," she continued; "you may bleed to death. Henry, get a horse directly, and gallop over to Jerusalem, tell Doctor Christy to come here without a moment's delay. Say, Sir Richard Conway is badly wounded. Come to your room, Richard; I can stop the blood--I think, I hope. I am somewhat of a surgeon amongst the servants," she added, with a faint smile. "Come this way, for all the boys are in the hall." And she led me by a small staircase, which, passing at the back of her own room into which there was a door from the landing, opened by another door upon the main corridor. I was soon in my own room, and seated in the arm chair, with Mr. Byles, Mr. Wheatley, Zed, and Bessy around me. Nothing could persuade the beautiful girl to go. In spite of all we could say, she would see the wound herself, and treat it after her fashion, which, I must say, she did with considerable skill. My coat was taken off, the sleeves stripped up, and though I could see her give a shudder when the blood spouted forth, on the bandage being removed, she did not lose her firmness for a moment.
"Now tie it round tight again, tie it round tight again," she cried to Mr. Wheatley who had unfastened the bandage to remove my coat. "Zed, run into my room, and get two or three handkerchiefs. Juno will give them to you."
"Plenty of handkerchiefs here, Miss Bessy," said Zed, handing her some from my portmanteau; and, taking one of them, she folded it several times. Then placing it on the wound, she bound another tightly over, so as to act as a compress, and watched in deep silence for a minute or two to see if it would have the effect she wished. The blood oozed through after a time, but very slowly; and, with a sigh, as if of relief, she said,--
"That will do, Richard. It will not bleed much or long now; but you must sit quite quiet till the surgeon comes." I took her dear little hand in mine, and pressed my lips upon it; and not caring for the presence of others, she left it still in mine, gazing thoughtfully into my face. She was still in the same position, when Mr. Stringer entered the room, hurriedly, in his dressing-gown.
"What is the matter? What is the matter?" he exclaimed. "They tell me you are wounded, Sir Richard?" There were plenty to explain the matter, and each gave his own version of the affair; Mr. Wheatley, in his peculiar and pungent manner; Billy Byles, drily and in a few words; but Zed, with amplification and details, which I would fain have stopped, both on my own account and on account of one of the listeners. He seemed to consider it a point of honour that his master should not have come off worst in the encounter, and he took particular pleasure in dwelling upon the two wounds which Robert Thornton had received.
"Ah, yes, he hit him every time," said Zed; "and would have shot him through from side to side the first shot, only, I fancy, he did not want to kill him, Master Stringer. That is how he got his wound; for if he had just sent the ball through his head the first fire, he would not have been wounded at all."
"Then is the unfortunate man dead?" asked Bessy, in a low tone.
"No, no," I answered; "he is not dead, my dear cousin. I assure you, I did not intend to kill him; but he stood so, that it was almost impossible to prevent his injuring me without the risk of taking his own life. I think--I trust he may still recover." Bessy put her hands over her eyes, and sat silent; and I could not but remember what I had heard on the preceding day, that her father had fallen in an encounter of the same kind. Though Hope is a very persuasive angel, yet there is a certain little devil, lying hidden in some of the deep windings and turnings of the mind, which is always, with low-voiced cunning, suggesting something contrary to the flattering promises of the charmer. Even now he whispered,--
"Bessy finds a parity between the case of her father and that of this man. However she may dislike him--whatever may be her feelings towards me--some of her sympathies are enlisted on his side." I did not like the thought at all; but she sat quietly beside me, and did not seem to entertain the slightest thought of quitting the room.
"It strikes me," said Mr. Stringer, after a few unimportant inquiries, that there are altogether too many people here round a wounded man. Sir Richard does not seem to be losing much blood now, and some of us had better retire till the surgeon arrives, who, I find, has been sent for. Bessy--Miss Davenport--I think I must constitute you head nurse; for you know Mrs. Stringer's nerves are not equal to such scenes, and you have been brought up with more strength of character.
"I am as weak as a child," said Bessy, in a low tone; but then, instantly recovering herself, she added, in a gayer manner, "Well, I will undertake the task, and risk all sorts of ingratitude. You must not think me bold, Richard, if I come in and out at all times and seasons to see to my patient's progress--being my cousin too, I have a right. Your servant will stay with you, of course. Can't you have a bed, or a sofa, or something put up there for him, Mr. Stringer? I am going away just now to take some hartshorn, or some mint-julep, or some rye-whisky, or something--what would you recommend, gentlemen?--I have just found out that I have got some nerves, and am not quite so much accustomed to scenes of blood and slaughter as you are." It struck me that there was the slightest possible touch of bitterness in what she said; but I found afterwards that I was mistaken. Strong emotions, even of the tenderest kind, sometimes have recourse to hard words, and even to light jests, to hide themselves not only from the eyes of others, but also from the sight of those who feel them. Bessy, Mr. Byles, and Mr. Stringer quitted the room, leaving me with Zed and Mr. Wheatley. The latter, with great tact and good sense, chatted so calmly and cheerfully that the time seemed very short till Dr. Christy, the surgeon, quietly, and almost silently, entered the room. He did not wear creaking shoes, that besetting sin of medical men. His manner was all very calm and composed, without the slightest haste or bustle in his aspect, although I could judge from the perspiration on his forehead that he had ridden hard. After a few minutes' conversation on subjects barely relevant to my situation, he proceeded to examine my arm.
"The ball is still in," he said; "your muscle is very firm, Sir Richard, or they had not put powder enough in the pistol. However, we shall easily extract it, for it lies perfectly straight." He put me to a good deal of pain, however, though not for more than a few seconds; and then dropped the bullet into a basin of water. I thought it was all over; but he must needs probe the wound again, and then, shaking his head, observed,--
"There is something more, I am sorry to say. We must not leave anything extraneous in the wound, for fear of bad consequences hereafter. A moment more, and it will be all over. Whatever it is, I know its exact position." He then had recourse to the forceps again, and, in an instant, brought up a small splinter of bone, not bigger than an ordinary iron tack.
"That is unfortunate," he said; "the ball has just touched the bone, which may delay your recovery for some days, and will require you to keep quiet and be very cautious. Otherwise, the wound might heal almost with the first intention."
"I think first intentions are always best, doctor," said Mr. Wheatley; "although they say second thoughts are. However, my friend must submit to fate, like the rest of us, and I presume there is nothing dangerous about the wound."
"Nothing whatever," answered the surgeon, "if he is but prudent. I think, Sir Richard," he continued, "from what I have heard of your conduct on the field, it will be a satisfaction for you to know that there is a prospect of your antagonist recovering. He was brought to town at once, and I and my partner saw him. One was merely a flesh wound; the other was one of those curious wounds that we sometimes see, which, going close to several vital organs, leaves them all untouched. An inch further back would have sent the ball through his heart; an inch higher up would have carried it through one of the great vessels of the lungs. Neither were touched; and, though he must suffer for a long time, I think, from various indications, he will recover. And now, if I might advise you, you will go to bed; keep yourself as quiet as possible, and do not rise till I see you to-morrow. I will send you a draught to insure you a good night's rest and keep down fever. But you had better have somebody in the room with you, lest, in tossing about, the compress should get deranged and hemorrhage return." Thus saying, he left me. But I cannot pretend that I followed his instructions to the letter. I had a notion that Bessy would return to see me, and, therefore, I determined to sit up till she came. Nor was I disappointed. The surgeon had not been gone ten minutes when she knocked at the door; and appeared to have quite recovered from the shock of the morning.
"I am determined," she said, "not to care for what people may think in England, although we independent American women are often shamefully afraid of English opinions; but I cannot think there can be anything wrong in attending upon a sick cousin.--Can there, Mr. Wheatley?"
"Not in the slightest degree," answered Mr. Wheatley. "It was a part of the old-time chivalry. Then every lady had a great number of cousins, and they all attended upon them when they were wounded, which was, I think, every other day." And he gave one of his short, low laughs. Nevertheless, Bessy stayed with me for a full half-hour; and I do not believe she would have gone then, if Mr. Wheatley, much to my annoyance, had not given her to understand that Dr. Christy had ordered me to go to bed directly. The rest of the day passed dully enough. Towards night, a good deal of pain and fever came on; and though that opiate produced some wild and uncomfortable sleep, I woke the next morning, feeling languid and exhausted. But I had suffered in the same manner from a previous wound; and when the surgeon returned, he said, I was going on as well as could be expected.
I do not wonder that the patriarchs lived to the good old age which they attained. I do not wonder that they counted by hundreds where we count by tens. Sparsely scattered over the face of the earth, with their flocks and their herds and their servants; living a frugal and a homely life; inheriting a constitution unbroken by many generations of vice, indulgence, and luxury; with constant but gentle activity of body, and rare and scanty excitement of mind--there was little in the whole course of their existence to wear down the frame and to impair the health. The sword was so seldom drawn--in short--only enough to keep it from rusting--that it did not fret the scabbard. With us, how different is the case! The pursuit of wealth, of pleasure, of fame; the constant exertion of mind and of body; the struggles of an overpacked population, each man like the cuckoo whose offspring tried to shoulder the other out of the nest; the wearing and fretting of continual disappointments; the musquito-bites of small cares; the everlasting thought for the morrow--all these things break us down and shorten life, "Et corpore frangitur curis et laboribus." Nevertheless, in this troublesome and toilsome existence--troublesome and toilsome even to those whom fate and fortune have most favoured--come lapses, either of calm and pleasant tranquillity or of dull and heavy inactivity. Such was the case with me for several weeks. My wound would have healed, probably, at once, had it not been for the slight injury to the bone of the arm. That, however, produced a long train of unpleasant, though not dangerous, symptoms, for which there were no remedies but patience and perfect tranquillity. Anything like exercise was actually forbidden; and I found to my cost when, once or twice, I broke through the rule, that violent irritation and even inflammation followed. There was nothing for it but to submit quietly to a sort of life which was not at all congenial to my habits or my taste. But there were many mitigations to a state which would have been dull and wearisome enough in ordinary circumstances. I suffered very little as long as I was perfectly quiet. I was allowed to rise and go down to the drawing room with my arm in a sling; and I had constantly the society which was most delightful to me, with very little of that which might have annoyed or irritated me. Sometimes there was a little business to break monotony; sometimes a little cheerful society from without. But I had always Bessy Davenport near me; for, by some arrangement, made between her and Mrs. Stringer, she had agreed to stay at Beavors and keep her friend company, while Mr. Stringer, his boys, and the tutor, went up into the interior of Virginia to visit the natural bridge, Weir's cave, and the Peaks of Otter. Perhaps my situation had some share in deciding her to stay; at least, she said so; for Bessy had a habit of always putting the most open and straightforward construction upon her actions, depriving others of the power to insinuate motives by boldly avowing her own. One day, when Mrs. Stringer was saying how kind it was of her to stay with her during Mr. Stringer's absence, she answered laughing,--
"I should always be glad to stay with you, my dear friend, at any time when I could be of comfort or assistance to you; but you must not thank me on the present occasion; for the truth is, I am staying to nurse and amuse my cousin Richard there." And she did so, untiringly. I do not intend to enter into many details of the next month's events, if indeed events they could be called; but some must be slightly touched upon. The day after the duel, I had several visitors--Mr. Henry Thornton, Billy Byles, the sheriff of the county, and others. Mr. Thornton continued to come, two or three times every week, and once or twice brought Mr. Hubbard with him, when some little matters of business were talked of. Mr. Wheatley returned to Norfolk on the morning of the third day; and I should certainly have felt his loss much, had not Bessy Davenport been there. From Dr. Christy I heard every day of the progress of Robert Thornton, and glad indeed I was to find that the surgeon's favourable anticipations were likely to be verified. It is true the unfortunate man struggled for his life during nearly ten days; but from that time, his convalescence, though slow, was steady. It is true, that he was somewhat thrown back at one time by the decision of a court in regard to Aunt Bab's slaves. My claim was admitted; and though an appeal was taken, the slaves were placed in the hands of the sheriff, till the case could be finally decided.
"There can be no doubt whatever upon the question," said Mr. Hubbard, when he communicated the facts to me; "and the poor people, in the end, will be put at your disposal. But with regard to the landed property," he added, shaking his head, "we shall have more difficulty. They are trying to get it escheated, and I fear we shall not be able to prevent it. I think, nevertheless, I see a course of proceeding to frustrate their ultimate object of getting possession of it themselves, though we cannot place it absolutely in your hands."
"How is that, my dear sir?" I asked.
"Oh, a little legal fiction," he answered, "a little legal fiction; but you must let me mature my scheme, and then I will tell you all about it." I was well contented to let the question remain in abeyance; for, to say the truth, I did not care how it was decided. Having fully as much as I wanted, and a surplus for any contingencies which might involve increased expenditure, I was not anxious for an augmentation of fortune, although I will confess that I felt no little desire to frustrate those land-sharks, always desirous of preying upon the inheritance of others, which swarm in the southern states of this union. It is quite extraordinary, how many, how voracious, and how dexterous they are. With the execution of these visits of courtesy or business, few events occurred to interrupt the perfect tranquillity of Beavors, especially after the departure of Mr. Stringer and his sons. One day was a complete pattern of the other, except that a little variation crept in as I improved in health. After a time, I was permitted by the doctor to take a short walk out in the cool of the morning, and another in the evening, with a strenuous recommendation not to carry exercise to the length of fatigue. I had learned to know exactly the sound of the opening of Bessy Davenport's door on the great corridor. Her maid always went in and out the back way; but she had seldom got on the veil which she usually wore over her head, nor raised her parasol from the seat in the hall, before I was at her side; and then we had a short dreamy walk in the shady parts of the plantation. which afforded some of the pleasantest moments I have yet known in life. It may seem very strange that we who, in the early part of our acquaintance, had talked a great deal of love and marriage, and the mistakes that are made in both, now seldom touched upon such topics at all. Nothing had been said, nothing had been done, to bind us in any shape to each other; and a certain tranquillity was in the minds of both, I am assured, which seemed as if all had been spoken and all was understood. We walked along, side by side. We conversed on various topics, some strange and new, at least to one of the parties--of Europe and its monuments--of customs, of scenes, of enjoyments, all different from those of the land in which we then were--nay, of a still older world in the far East, the cradle of the human race, where, as if for the purpose of preserving a connecting link between the past and the present, God had implanted in the mind of man a tenacious adherence to ancient habits, which gives us, to the present day, living pictures of those early times when His word was first revealed to a chosen nation separated from all other people, to preserve, amongst struggles and contentions, and errors and follies, the knowledge of the one true God. Then she would tell me strange tales of the aboriginal inhabitants of this vast continent; of the Indians, which, even in her young days, had been numerous in Virginia; and we would deviate together into some of the by-paths of thought, leading us afar into discussions of art and science, on the state of society, and what was good and what was bad in the present artificial condition of man. A great change appeared to have come over her, I knew not how or why. Her opinions seemed softened--perhaps I may call it weakened. At all events, they were put forward with less decision. A more calm, a less cutting spirit seemed to animate her; and she would often laugh gaily at her former harsh opinions upon some subjects, and say,--
"My dear Richard, I have all my life been acting on the defensive, and been obliged to show a bold front to the enemy; especially," she added, with a quiet smile, "when I feared there might be treachery in the garrison." Then we would walk home again, and take our early breakfast, often without the company of Mrs. Stringer, who was in delicate health; and if Werter fell in love with Charlotte cutting bread and butter, I might surely feel my love increased, when I saw those beautiful hands tending to all my wants, and cutting the food which I was still unable to cut for myself. She would trust nobody else to do it; and certainly she did it better than any one. Oh those little marks of kindness and tenderness! how they sink into the heart, and how peculiarly they are woman's! After breakfast, she would often read to me for an hour or more; and then we would sit side-by-side in the shady part of the house--for now the full heat of summer was upon us--speaking very little; but both feeling very deeply, I do believe. Our evening walk was shorter than that of the morning; for every one seemed to have a horror of the dews of sunset; but the after hours, till bed time, passed very pleasantly; for Bessy now had no coquetry about her singing, and her store seemed inexhaustible. Yet there were some songs which, though perhaps neither so rich in melody nor so scientific in composition, pleased me more than others; and I would have them over and over again. Perhaps it was that there seemed some fanciful relation between them and our mutual fate. One I remember especially:--
BESSY'S SONG."I will not love," the maiden said."My breast is hard as steel;No heart e'er loved but was betrayed--Mine will not, shall not, feel."Why droops the maid her sunny head?Why swims her dewy eye?What is there in that distant tread,That makes her heart beat high?"I will not wed," the maiden said;"None ever me shall see,Like captive in a triumph led,A tyrant's slave to be."Why decks the maid her glossy hairWith orange-blossoms bright?Why binds she round her forehead fairThat veil of snowy white?The fish may 'scape the fisher's net;The deer, the hunter's dart;The toils of love, more deeply set,Are pitched in woman's heart.She stands before the altar now--Her heart, her hand are given;Love's rosy hope is on her brow,And in her breast lies heaven.
"I will not love," the maiden said.
"My breast is hard as steel;
No heart e'er loved but was betrayed--
Mine will not, shall not, feel."
Why droops the maid her sunny head?
Why swims her dewy eye?
What is there in that distant tread,
That makes her heart beat high?
"I will not wed," the maiden said;
"None ever me shall see,
Like captive in a triumph led,
A tyrant's slave to be."
Why decks the maid her glossy hair
With orange-blossoms bright?
Why binds she round her forehead fair
That veil of snowy white?
The fish may 'scape the fisher's net;
The deer, the hunter's dart;
The toils of love, more deeply set,
Are pitched in woman's heart.
She stands before the altar now--
Her heart, her hand are given;
Love's rosy hope is on her brow,
And in her breast lies heaven.
Thus passed the time; and day by day I grew better in health. The wound in my arm began to heal. I recovered strength, and even thought of some day mounting on horseback and taking a ride for exercise.
About this time, Mr. Hubbard and Mr. Henry Thornton came together to see me. I was sitting with Bessy in the drawing-room; but although the two gentlemen came on business, they did not seem to think her presence any impediment.
"My scheme is now pretty well matured, Sir Richard," said Mr. Hubbard; "and as I think it may be as well to take our measures at once, I wish to explain it to you. No alien can hold real estate in Virginia; and the real property of any person dying without heirs in this state is subject to escheat. The legislature can then grant the lands to whom it will; but this is always regulated by a certain vague sense of justice; and those who have been serviceable personal friends to, or nearly connected with, the deceased, can usually obtain the grant, if they apply in proper form and show good cause. You are an alien; and we do not suppose that the object of dear old Aunt Bab's property would induce you to become an American citizen, even if your declaration of such an intention would save it, which is doubtful. But we think that your conveyance, regularly drawn up, of your right, title, and interest in the property, to a person having as near a connection with the original American proprietor as yourself--indeed nearer, for your claim is peculiarly under your aunt's will--would be conclusive with the legislature against the intrigues of Mr. Robert Thornton and his father."
"Besides," remarked Mr. Henry Thornton, bluntly, "we have more influence with the legislature than he has by a great deal; and that is the principal thing in Virginia and everywhere else, my good friend Hubbard."
"Perhaps so," said Mr. Hubbard, quietly. "But let me explain the whole matter to Sir Richard fully. We do not propose that you should lose the property; but an honourable understanding can be entered into with the party to whom you assign, that he or she, as the case may be, holds it as in trust for you. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly," I replied. "The assignment, I suppose, is in reality invalid, and only useful as giving a direction to the operations of the legislature." Mr. Hubbard nodded his head.
"But pray," I continued, for I had already arrived at my own conclusion, "have you fixed upon the person to whom the assignment should be made?"
"We know of no one who fulfils all the conditions," answered Mr. Hubbard, "except Miss Davenport. She is full niece to Colonel Thornton, half niece to Aunt Bab; and though the half blood does not inherit, it gives a good claim. Thus, in fact, she is nearer in every sense than Robert Thornton; and your assignment will, we think, remove every obstacle."
"Besides, she is a girl," observed Mr. Thornton; "and our Virginia legislature is very fond of girls." Bessy's face had been in a glow for several minutes, and I never saw her look more lovely.
"I do not understand this," she observed, with marked emphasis. "Richard, I will not take your property from you. Though it is the home of my youth, and I would buy it willingly if it were to be sold, it is yours, and I will not have it."
"Be quiet, my dear, be quiet," interposed Mr. Hubbard, with a kindly smile. "We only want him to give it to you to secure it for him. You can give it back to him again in various different ways, and a great number of valuable things to boot, if you like."
"Well, well," returned Bessy, laughing and sitting down, "if that is the case, manage it as you like. I would not have that Robert Thornton possess Beavors for anything I possess myself." It may easily be conceived that I consented readily; and as it was judged advisable that the assignment should be made before any active steps were taken towards the escheat, Mr. Hubbard promised to bring me the deed next day. It is strange how dissimilar things connect themselves. This mere matter of business seemed to me to afford an opportunity for doing and saying that to Bessy Davenport to which my mind had been for some time made up. I was very little doubtful of what her reply would be. I was sure she was not a coquette at heart; and words and looks and acts had told me she was mine. When the two gentlemen were gone, I seated myself beside her, and put my arm over the back of her chair. It was nearly round her waist, but she did not shrink from it.
"Let us talk over this matter, Bessy," I said, quietly; "for there are two or three points which these friends of ours have not considered, as, indeed, how could they, for they know nothing about them----" But just at that moment Mrs. Stringer entered the room--I never heard of its happening otherwise in my life,--and the words, almost spoken, died away upon my lips.
Accident, circumstance, fate, fortune, luck, chance, or whatever it may be called, which rules the life of man, and keeps him on, or throws him off, the railroad of existence, is certainly, to all appearance, the most wayward, whimsical, unaccountable sort of power that human nature was ever subjected to. I made up my mind, disappointed in what seemed a fair opportunity, to come to a full explanation with Bessy Davenport on the following day. I was very confident I should easily find some happy moment, when we were alone together, to bring about this explanation easily; for of all hideous and detestable things to which man sometimes bows himself, formal declarations of love and proposals of marriage are the most abhorrent to my notions. I was disappointed in my expectations, however, by a dozen little incidents of the most trifling nature. In the morning, before breakfast, it rained; Bessy and the housemaid were both late; and the mulatto girl continued brushing carpets and tables, and dusting very ancient and curious Chinese cups and saucers, and opening and shutting windows, and rubbing knobs of doors, until it was breakfast time; and then Mrs. Stringer, for a marvel, came down herself to distribute the good things of life to her guests with her own hands. Before breakfast was over, Billy Byles appeared, congratulating me upon my recovery, which might be considered complete; and telling us that Mr. Hubbard and Mr. Thornton and Lucy, and perhaps one of the other girls, would be over in half-an-hour with a budget of news and some papers on business. We easily conceived his object in preceding them; and Bessy laughed at him a little, and told Mrs. Stringer she had better have dinner ready for a large party, as it was clear, from Mr. Byles's manner, that their friends were going to stay all day and he with them. So it proved; and, what between reading over and signing the deed of gift to Bessy Davenport, and a dozen other matters of no importance, I had not one single moment to speak a word to Bessy during the whole day. She knew not that I was somewhat fretting with impatience; and, full of life and spirit, and gay good humour, she gave way to everything that was proposed in the way of amusement. At length, towards evening, our friends departed; but Bessy and I were not left alone; and I knew that my object was hopeless for the rest of that day, as Bessy would retire when Mrs. Stringer did. The next day Mr. Stringer and his sons were to return; and I saw no resource but to make an opportunity, if I could not find one. We had just had some coffee, and I was asking Bessy to sing, when the man-servant, Henry, came in with a packet in his hand which he gave to Miss Davenport, saying,--
"Mr. Robert Thornton sends his compliments, Miss Bessy, and says he has found a number of old letters and papers of importance which belong to you, and therefore he has sent them to you."
"They can't be very valuable," said Bessy, "or he would not have sent them. Let us see what they are." And, sitting down at the table by the lamp, she opened the packet. Its contents seemed entirely to consist of letters, yellow with age, and somewhat stained with damp. They were all neatly folded, and docketed with what I supposed to be an abstract of the contents of each. The first two or three Bessy turned over carelessly, after looking at what was written on the back; but then she came to one which seemed to interest her more; and, opening it, she read it through with a straining eye. The next had still more effect; for I could see her give a start when she read the docket, and her hands trembled violently as she opened the paper. She had not read above ten lines, when, suddenly gathering all the papers together, she started up and ran out of the room. She was evidently terribly affected, how or why, of course I could not tell; but my uncertainty was soon removed by Mrs. Stringer, who had been sitting near her fair guest, and who, with a curiosity which cynics would say was natural to women, had taken a glance from time to time at the papers which lay before Miss Davenport.
"That hateful man, Robert Thornton," she said, "will never miss a chance of giving pain. Only think of his sending those letters to poor Bessy."
"I see they have grieved and agitated her," I replied; "but I do not know how."
"Oh, I took a little look from time to time," said Mrs. Stringer, with a laugh, "and I could see what was written on the backs, for it is all in a good, legal-like round-hand. The last one was marked, 'Statement of the death of General Davenport;' that was her father, you know, who was killed in a duel when she was quite a child." This explanation satisfied me. The occurrence passed as a piece of petty spite on the part of Robert Thornton; but neither I, nor Mrs. Stringer, nor Robert Thornton himself, fully knew how painful and terrible was the influence which that unfeeling act of his was to exercise upon the fate of Bessy Davenport and myself. He might guess it in part, but he could not know the whole. Somewhat more than an hour elapsed before Bessy returned. Her face was very pale, and she had evidently been weeping; but her manner at first was calm, and she sat down and took up some woman's work and employed herself listlessly. Poor girl! she had nobody to consult, nobody to confide in. Mrs. Stringer was not a person with whom she could trust the inmost secrets of her heart, and they were all involved at that moment. What an invaluable thing is a wise friend, at those times when the thoughts, and the feelings, and the passions (which work calmly and silently in the human heart so long as intellect and reason reign) are cast free from subjection by some of those strong emotions which shake the ruling power upon its throne, and each clamours loudly, like different parties in an excited crowd, drowning the voice of the others, and urging this course or that in the excited impulse of the moment. But Bessy had no such friend; or, at least, the only one she could have consulted securely, whether wise or not, was shut out from her counsels by emotions of which I then knew nothing. I tried, as best I could, quietly to cheer her. I strove to lead her mind away from subjects of painful thought; but conversation was evidently an effort to her, and at length she rose, saying to Mrs. Stringer,--
"I do not feel well, my dear madam. I think I will go to bed."
"I will go up with you, my dear," said Mrs. Stringer, "if Sir Richard will excuse me. Bed is the best place for either headache or heartache." Bessy moved towards the door, at first turning her eyes away from me, without wishing me good night; but the next instant she stopped suddenly, returned, and gave me her hand, saying,--
"Good night, Richard--good night." Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and she ran hastily out of the room. A vague, confused apprehension of, I know not what, look possession of my mind; her conduct seemed strange to me--stranger than could be explained by the interpretation which Mrs. Stringer had first put upon it. That she was sensitive, full of strong feeling, and, when moved, deeply moved, I was sure; and I could easily conceive that, reading the account of her father's violent death, even though it had occurred many years ago, and she had no personal recollection of him, might affect her greatly. Yet there seemed to me to be something more. I betook myself speedily to my room, and as I passed thither I heard Mrs. Stringer's voice in conversation with Bessy in the chamber opposite. Sleep did not visit me soon; nevertheless, I was awake almost by daylight, and dressed and down stairs before any one else was up in the house. It was a beautiful, clear day, and I doubted not, for habit is very potent, that Bessy would take her usual morning walk. The great door of the house, as usual, was unlocked, for few at that time thought of locking a door in Virginia, and, going out into the porch, I sat down to wait for her, who I now felt more than ever was inexpressibly dear to me. I saw the negroes go out to their work, the cattle driven towards the stream, the long shadows of the trees grow shorter, the sparkling dew dried up from the grass, but Bessy did not come, and I began to be really apprehensive lest the shock should have affected her health. I waited till I was summoned to breakfast, and then I found Mrs. Stringer alone. I was disappointed and agitated; but, concealing my feelings as much as I could, I inquired if she had seen Miss Davenport, and how she was.
"She won't come down just yet," answered Mrs. Stringer. "That horrid man has shaken her nerves desperately. He sent her a long and detailed account of her father's death, she says written to her aunt Barbara by the gentleman who was his second. He has filled her mind with dreadful thoughts, and she has hardly been able to sleep all night. I dare say, you having been wounded in a duel so lately, Sir Richard," she added, with a smile, "has given greater effect to the letter." I could not smile in return; and the morning passed away very heavily till shortly after noon, when Mr. Stringer and his sons returned. They had a great deal to tell of the marvels they had seen, and of the enjoyments of their tour, and I was congratulated warmly by my worthy host on my recovery. In the course of the afternoon, when the whole family were present, Bessy Davenport glided in, pale, and evidently suffering. To any not very watchful eye no difference would have been perceived in her conduct towards me; but to mine there was a very great difference indeed. She shook hands with me kindly, nay, warmly; but a deep sigh, almost like a gasp for breath, accompanied the simple mark of good will. During the evening her eyes never met mine; when I spoke to her, she answered without raising them, and I became exceedingly uneasy. What could be the cause of such a change? I had done nothing, I had said nothing, that could give her the slightest cause for offence. Could that wretched man have written something in the papers which he sent to poison her mind against me? I could not believe it; and yet, in the folly of agitated passion, I almost wished I had shot him dead on the spot when he had stood before me, instead of sparing his miserable life to be the bane of mine. I resolved, however, to have a clear and full explanation. Candour and straitforwardness are nowhere so necessary as in love. A moment or two after Bessy had retired for the night, I went up into my own room, telling one of the servants I met in the hall to send my servant up to me. I then sat down and wrote to Bessy, saying:--