Miles Wallingford Part 43

"Captain Wallingford:

"Dear Sir, and my dear Miles--Here I have been, moored head and starn, these ten days, as comfortable as heart could wish, in the bosom of my family. The old woman was right down glad to see me, and she cried like an alligator, when she heard my story. As for Kitty, she cried, and she laughed in the bargain; but that young Bright, whom you may remember we fell in with, in our cruise after old Van Ta.s.sel, has fairly hauled alongside of my niece, and she does little but laugh from morning to night. It's b.l.o.o.d.y hard to lose a niece in this way, just as a man finds her, but mother says I shall gain a nephew by the trade.

"Now, for old Van Ta.s.sel. The Lord will never suffer rogues to prosper in the long run. Mother found the old rascal's receipt, given to my father for the money, years and years ago, and sending for a Hudson lawyer, they made the miserly cheat off with his hatches, and hoist out cargo enough to square the yards. So mother considers the thing as settled at last; but I shall always regard the account as open until I have threshed the gentleman to my heart's content. The old woman got the cash in hard dollars, not understanding paper, and I wasn't in the house ten minutes, before the good old soul roused a stocking out of a drawer, and began to count out the pieces to pay me off. So you see, Miles, I've stepped into my estate again, as well as yourself. As for your offer to pay me wages for the whole of last v'y'ge"--this word Marble could only spell as he p.r.o.nounced it--"it's generous, and that's a good deal in these b.l.o.o.d.y dishonest times, but I'll not touch a copper. When a s.h.i.+p's lost, the wages are lost with her, and that's law and reason. It would be hard on a marchant to have to pay wages for work done on board a craft that's at the bottom of the ocean; so no more on that p'int, which we'll consider settled.

"I am delighted to learn you are to be married as soon as you get back to Clawbonny. Was I in your place, and saw such a nice young woman beckoning me into port, I'd not be long in the offing. Thank you, heartily, for the invitation to be one of the bride's-maids, which is an office, my dear Miles, I covet, and shall glory in. I wish you to drop me a line as to the rigging proper for the occasion, for I would wish to be dressed as much like the rest of the bride's-maids as possible; uniformity being always desirable in such matters. A wedding is a wedding, and should be dealt with as a wedding; so, waiting for further orders, I remain your friend and old s.h.i.+p-mate to command,

"Moses Van Dusen Marble."

I do not affirm that the spelling of this letter was quite as accurate as that given in this copy, but the epistle was legible, and evidently gave Marble a great deal of trouble. As for the letters of dear Lucy, I forbear to copy any. They were like herself, however; ingenuous, truthful, affectionate and feminine. Among other things, she informed me that our union was to take place in St. Michael's; that I was to meet her at the rectory, and that we might proceed to Clawbonny from the church-door. She had invited Rupert and Emily to be present, but the health of the last would prevent their accepting the invitation. Major, or general, Merton, as he was universally called in New York, had the gout, and could not be there; and I was asked if it would not be advisable under all the circ.u.mstances, to have the affair as private as possible. My answer conveyed a cheerful compliance, and a week after that was despatched, I left the Genessee country, having successfully completed all my business.

No one opposed me, and so far from being regarded as an intruder, the world thought me the proper heir of my cousin.

Chapter XXIX.

"I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous bride."

Coleridge.

By arrangement, I stopped at the Willow Cove, to pick up Marble. I found the honest fellow happy as the day was long; but telling fearfully long and wonderful yarns of his adventures, to the whole country round. My old mate was substantially a man of truth; but he did love to astonish "know-nothings." He appears to have succeeded surprisingly well, for the Dutchmen of that neighbourhood still recount anecdotes, of the achievements and sufferings of Captain Marvel, as they usually call him, though they have long ceased to think the country belongs to the United Provinces.

Moses was glad to see me; and, after pa.s.sing a night in the cottage of his mother, we proceeded towards Clawbonny, in a conveyance that had been sent to Willow Cove to meet me. It was a carriage of my own, one of my own negroes acting as driver. I knew the old team, and will acknowledge that tears forced themselves to, my eyes as I thus saw myself, as it might be, reinstated in my own. The same feeling came powerfully over me, as we drove to the summit of an elevation in the road, that commanded a view of the vale and buildings of Clawbonny. What a moment was that in my existence! I cannot say that I was born to wealth, even as wealth was counted among us sixty years since, but I was born to a competency. Until I lost my s.h.i.+p, I had never known the humiliating sensations of poverty; and the feeling that pa.s.sed over my heart, when I first heard that Clawbonny was sold, has left an impression that will last for life. I looked at the houses, as I pa.s.sed them in the streets, and remembered that I was houseless. I did not pa.s.s a shop in which clothes were exposed, without remembering that, were my debts paid, I should literally be without a coat to my back. Now, I had my own once more; and there stood the home of my ancestors for generations, looking comfortable and respectable, in the midst of a most inviting scene of rural quiet and loveliness. The very fields seemed to welcome me beneath its roof! There is no use in attempting to conceal what happened; and I will honestly relate it.

The road made a considerable circuit to descend the hill, while a foot-path led down the declivity, by a shorter cut, which was always taken by pedestrians. Making an incoherent excuse to Moses, and telling him to wait for me at the foot of the hill, I sprang out of the carriage, leaped a fence, and I may add, leaped out of sight, in order to conceal my emotion. I was no sooner lost to view, than, seating myself on a fragment of rock, I wept like a child. How long I sat there is more than I can say; but the manner in which I was recalled from this paroxysm of feeling will not soon be forgotten. A little hand was laid on my forehead, and a soft voice uttered the word "Miles!" so near me, that, at the next instant, I held Lucy in my arms. The dear girl had walked to the hill, as she afterwards admitted, in the expectation of seeing me pa.s.s on to Clawbonny; and, comprehending my feelings and my behaviour, could not deny herself the exquisite gratification of sharing in my emotions.

"It is a blessed restoration to your rights, dear Miles," Lucy at length said, smiling through her tears. "Your letters have told me that you are rich; but I would rather you had Clawbonny, and not a cent besides, than, without this place, you had the riches of the wealthiest man in the country. Yours it should have been, at all events, could my means have compa.s.sed it."

"And this, Lucy, without my becoming your husband, do you mean?"

Lucy blushed brightly; though I cannot say the sincere, ingenuous girl ever looked embarra.s.sed in avowing her preference for me. After a moment's pause, she smiled, and answered my question.

"I have not doubted of the result, since my father gave me an account of your feelings towards me," she said, "and that, you will remember, was before Mr. Daggett had his sale. Women have more confidence in the affections than men, I fear; at least, with us they are more engrossing concerns than with you--for we live for them altogether, whereas you have the world constantly to occupy your thoughts. I have never supposed Miles Wallingford would become the husband of any but Lucy Hardinge, except on one occasion, and then only for a very short period; and, ever since I have thought on such subjects at all, I have _known_ that Lucy Hardinge would never--_could_ never be the wife of any one but Miles Wallingford."

"And that one exception, dearest,--that 'very short period?' Having confessed so much, I am eager to know all."

Lucy became thoughtful, and she moved the gra.s.s at her feet with the end of her parasol, ere she replied.

"The one exception was Emily Merton; and the short period terminated when I saw you together, in your own house. When I first saw Emily Merton, I thought her more worthy of your love than I could possibly be; and I fancied it impossible that you could have lived so long in a s.h.i.+p together, without discovering each other's merits. But, when I was placed with you both, under the same roof, I soon ascertained that, while your imagination had been a little led aside, your heart was always true to me."

"Is this possible, Lucy! Are women really so much more discriminating, so much more accurate in their opinions, than us men? While I was ready to hang myself for jealousy of Andrew Drewett, did you really know that my heart was entirely yours?"

"I was not without misgivings, Miles, and sometimes those that were keenly painful; but, on the whole, I will not say I felt my power, but that I felt we were dear to each other."

"Did you never suppose, as your excellent father has done, that we were too much like brother and sister, to become lovers--too much accustomed to be dear to each other as children, to submit to pa.s.sion? For that which I feel for you, Lucy, I do not pretend to dignify with the name of esteem, and respect, and affection--it is a pa.s.sion, that will form the misery, or happiness of my life."

Lucy smiled archly, and again the end of her parasol played with the gra.s.s that grew around the rock on which we were seated.

"How could I think this for you," she said, "when I had a contrary experience of my own constantly present, Miles? I saw that you thought there was some difference of condition between us, (silly fellow!) and I felt persuaded you had only your own diffidence to overcome, to tell your own story."

"And knowing and seeing all this, cruel Lucy, why did you suffer years of cruel, cruel doubt to hang over me?"

"Was it a woman's part to speak, Miles? I endeavoured to act naturally,--believe I did act naturally,--and I left the rest to G.o.d.

Blessed be his mercy, I am rewarded!"

I folded Lucy to my heart, and, pa.s.sing a moment of sweet sympathy in the embrace, we both began to talk of other things, as if mutually conscious that our feelings were too high-wrought for the place in which we were. I inquired as to the condition of things at Clawbonny, and was gratified with the report. Everybody expected me. I had no tenantry to come forth to meet me,--nor were American tenants much addicted to such practices, even when they were to be found: though the miserable sophistry on the subject of landlord and tenant,--one of the most useful and humanizing relations of civilized life,--did not then exist among us, that I am sorry to find is now getting into vogue. In that day, it was not thought 'liberty' to violate the fair covenants of a lease; and attempts to cheat a landed proprietor out of his rights were _called_ cheating, as they ought to be--and they were called nothing else.

In that day, a lease in perpetuity was thought a more advantageous bargain for the tenant, than a lease for a year, or a term of years; and men did not begin to reason as if one indulgence gave birth to a right, to demand more. In that day, paying rent in chickens, and wood, and work, was not fancied to be a remnant of feudality, but it was regarded as a favour conferred on him who had the privilege: and even now, nine countrymen in ten endeavour to pay their debts in everything they can, before they resort to the purse. In that day, the audacious sophism of calling land a monopoly, in a country that probably possesses more than a hundred acres for every living soul within its limits, was not broached: and, in that day, knots of men did not set themselves up as special representatives of the whole community, and interpret the laws in their own favour, as if they were the first principles of the entire republic. But my pen is running away with me, and I must return to Lucy. A crisis is at hand; and we are about to see the laws triumphant, or acts of aggression that will far outdo all that has. .h.i.therto rested on the American name, as connected with a want of faith in pecuniary transactions.

Should I ever continue these adventures, occasions may offer to draw certain pictures of the signs of the times; signs that have an ominous aspect as regards real liberty, by subst.i.tuting the most fearful of all tyrannies, the spurious, in its place. G.o.d alone knows for what we are reserved; but one thing is certain--there must be a serious movement backward, or the nation is lost.

I had no tenantry to come out and meet me; but there were the blacks. It is true, the law was on the point of liberating these slaves, leaving a few of the younger to serve for a term of years, that should requite their owners for the care of their infancies and their educations; but this law could not effect an immediate change in the condition of the Clawbonnys.

The old ones did not wish to quit me, and never did; while it took years to loosen the tie which bound the younger portion of them to me and mine.

At this hour, near twenty of them are living round me, in cottages of mine; and the service of my kitchen is entirely conducted by them. Lucy prepared me for a reception by these children of Africa, even the outcasts having united with the rest to do honour to their young master. Honour is not the word; there was too much _heart_ in the affair for so cold a term; the negro, whatever may be his faults, almost always possessing an affectionate heart.

At length, I remembered Marble, and, taking leave of Lucy, who would not let me accompany her home, I threw myself down the path, and found my mate cogitating in the carnage, at the foot of the hill.

"Well, Miles, you seem to value this land of yours, as a seaman does his s.h.i.+p," cried Moses, before I had time to apologize for having kept him so long waiting. "Howsomever, I can enter into the feelin', and a blessed one it is, to get a respondentia bond off of land that belonged to a feller's grandfather. Next thing to being a b.l.o.o.d.y hermit, I hold, is to belong to n.o.body in a crowded world; and I would not part with one kiss from little Kitty, or one wrinkle of my mother's, for all the desert islands in the ocean. Come, sit down now, my lad--why, you look as red as a rose-bud, and as if you had been running up and down hill the whole time you've been absent."

"It is sharp work to come down such a hill as this on a trot. Well, here I am at your side; what would you wish to know?"

"Why, lad, I've been thinkin', since you were away, of the duties of a bride's-maid,"--to his dying day, Moses always insisted he had acted in this capacity at my wedding;--"for the time draws near, and I wouldn't wish to discredit you, on such a festivity. In the first place, how am I to be dressed? I've got the posy you mentioned in your letter, stowed away safe in my trunk. Kitty made it for me last week, and a good-looking posy it was, the last time I saw it."

"Did you think of the breeches?"

"Ay, ay--I have them, too, and what is more I've had them bent. Somehow or other, Miles, running under bare poles does not seem to agree with my build. If there's time, I should like to have a couple of bonnets fitted to the articles."

"Those would be gaiters, Moses, and I never heard of a bride's-maid in breeches and gaiters. No, you'll be obliged to come out like evervbody else."

"Well, I care less for the dress than I do for the behaviour. Shall I be obliged to kiss Miss Lucy?"

"No, not exactly Miss Lucy, but Mrs. Bride--I believe it would not be a lawful marriage without that."

"Heaven forbid that I should lay a straw in the way of your happiness, my dear boy; but you'll make a signal for the proper time to clear s.h.i.+p, then--you know I always carry a quid."

I promised not to desert him in his need, and Moses became materially easier in his mind. I do not wish the reader to suppose my mate fancied he was to act in the character of a woman at my nuptials, but simply that he was to act in the character of a bride's-maid. The difficulties which beset him will be best explained by his last remark on this occasion, and with which I shall close this discourse. "Had I been brought up in a decent family," he said, "instead of having been set afloat on a tombstone, matrimony wouldn't have been such unknown seas to me. But, you know how it is, Miles, with a fellow that has no relations. He may laugh, and sing, and make as much noise as he pleases, and try to make others think he's in good company the whole time; but, after all, he's nothing but a sort of b.l.o.o.d.y hermit, that's travelling through life, all the same as if he was left with a few pigs on a desert island. Make-believe is much made use of in this world, but it won't hold out to the last. Now of all mortal beings that I ever met with, you've fallen in with her that has least of it. There's some make-believe about you, Miles, as when you looked so b.l.o.o.d.y unconcerned all the time you were ready to die of love, as I now l'arn, for the young woman you're about to marry: and mother has a little of it, dear old soul, when she says she's perfectly satisfied with the son the Lord has given her, for I'm not so blasted virtuous but I might be better; and little Kitty has lots of it when she pretends she would as soon have one kiss from me as two from young Bright; but, as for Lucy Hardinge, I will say that I never saw any more make-believe about her, than was becoming in a young woman."

This speech proved that Moses was a man of observation. Others might have drawn seemingly nicer shades of character, but this sincerity of feeling, truth of conduct, and singleness of purpose, formed the distinguis.h.i.+ng traits of Lucy's virtues. I was excessively gratified at finding that Marble rightly appreciated one who was so very, very dear to me, and took care to let him know as much, as soon as he had made his speech.

We were met by the negroes, at the distance of half a mile from the house. Neb acted as master of the ceremonies, or, commodore would be the better word, for he actually carried a bit of swallow-tail bunting that was borrowed from the sloop, and there was just as much of ocean in the symbols used, as comported with the honours manifested to a seaman. Old Cupid carried the Wallingford's ensign, and a sort of _harlequinade_ had been made out of marlinspikes, serving mallets, sail-maker's palms, and fids. The whole was crowned with a plug of tobacco, though I never used the weed, except in segars. Neb had seen processions in town, as well as in foreign countries, and he took care that the present should do himself no discredit. It is true, that he spoke to me of it afterwards as a "n.i.g.g.e.r procession," and affected to hold it cheap; but I could see that the fellow was as much pleased with the conceits he had got up for the occasion, as he was mortified at the failure of the whole thing. The failure happened in this wise: no sooner did I approach near enough to the elder blacks to have my features fairly recognised, than the women began to blubber, and the men to toss their arms and shout "Ma.s.ser Mile,"

"Ma.s.ser Mile;" thereby throwing everything into confusion, at once placing feeling uppermost, at the expense of 'law and order.'

To descend from the stilts that seemed indispensable to do credit to Neb's imagination, the manner in which I was received by these simple-minded beings was infinitely touching. All the old ones shook hands with me, while the younger of both s.e.xes kept more aloof, until I went to each in succession, and went through the ceremony of my own accord. As for the boys, they rolled over on the gra.s.s, while the little girls kept making curtsies, and repeating "welcome home to Clawbonny, Ma.s.ser Mile." My heart was full, and I question if any European landlord ever got so warm a reception from his tenantry, as I received from my slaves.

And welcome I was indeed to Clawbonny, and most welcome was Clawbonny to me! In 1804, New York had still some New York feeling left in the State.

Strangers had not completely overrun her as has since happened; and New York names were honoured; New York feelings had some place among us; life, homes, firesides, and the graves of our fathers, not yet being treated as so many incidents in some new speculation. Men then loved the paternal roof, and gardens, lawns, orchards and church-yards, were regarded as something other than levels for rail-roads and ca.n.a.ls, streets for villages, or public promenades to be called batteries, or parks, as might happen to suit aldermanic ambition, or editorial privilege.