Part 10

"Look here, Captain! I do not usually meddle in affairs which do not concern me, but your trouble is jealousy--plain jealousy. It is all you have against Sir Edward. He happens to be fascinating, and good looking, and an English Baronet--and, of course, Miss Stirling is pleased, (and so is Miss Marbury, though she is only an incident, with you) and is apt to monopolize all the attentions he will give her--as any other girl would do. He will not be here very long, and you will have your chance after he leaves. I do not imagine, for a moment, that Miss Stirling is really interested, any more than she is interested in you, or Paca, or Constable, or a dozen others. They would all marry her, too, if they could; but they are not imagining all sorts of things about Parkington just because he has the call, for the present, with Miss Stirling. No, no! Herford; you are jealous--and there lies the whole trouble. Get rid of it, man, get rid of it!"

He raised his tones a trifle at the close.

"Get rid of what, Dick?" called Miss Marbury's voice behind them. She was with Sir Edward Parkington, and had approached unnoticed.

"Ah! listening were you?" said Maynadier.

"Listening, indeed! You disturbed us with your noise--you fairly dinned it in our ears."

"And just enough to make you wish for more! Oh, no, Miss Inquisitive, we will keep the secret to ourselves."

"Then, it is a secret?"

"A great secret--oh, very great!" said Maynadier, with assumed gravity. "Herford has the doldrums."

"And you were walking him up and down the avenue to help him get rid of them?" she mocked. "Oh, kind Mr. Maynadier! I fear, Captain Herford is weary of our hospitality."

"Your fears are groundless, mademoiselle," said Herford, with a bow; "the doldrums fled at the sound of your voice."

"Then, you know how to banish them in future," she replied.

"I would not impose----"

"It is the hostess' duty to serve to her guests--and her pleasure as well, sir."

"And may I--now----" extending his arm.

"The doldrums fled at the sound of my voice, I thought you said?"

"But they may return--whereas, to effect a permanent cure, Miss Marbury, I would prescribe a walk in the moonlight.--Sir Edward will excuse you, I know."

She turned to Parkington. It was as well to leave him, now--she had done enough, for one evening.

"It shall be as mademoiselle wishes," said he.

She laid her hand on Herford's arm.

"For a little while, then, Captain Herford, you may try the cure!" she laughed, and they moved away.

"I wonder whether she was tired of me, or whether she thought you were tired of the Captain?" said Parkington.

"A little of both, doubtless!" replied Maynadier--and when Sir Edward looked at him quizzically, he added, "But it is, mainly, the butterfly, which every woman has, in some degree, in her nature."

"And a man has in a great degree. Talk about variety--we men are the bigger butterfly of the two. However, it served as a salve for my hurt feelings!"

"Were they hurt?" asked Maynadier, amused.

"What would yours be, if Captain Herford were preferred to you?" laughing.

And Maynadier joined in the laugh.

"He is a queer fellow," Parkington went on. "It is not exactly ill-nature; it is more of a disposition to quarrel with everything--of never being suited. In short, a chronic grumbler. He came out to me, the other morning, with the well developed intention of picking a quarrel--we would have been scraping rapiers, in a minute, if I had wished. Instead, I simply ignored his manner, and laughed him into a decent humor. Has he such a way with every one?"

"Yes--we understand him, and do not mind. He is a good fellow, when you get past his eccentricities."

"But one cannot be always side-stepping," said Parkington. "Some time, he will run against a man with similar tendencies--and then, there will be a little blood-letting, may be, a death."

"You see, in your case," said Maynadier, "you have touched him on the raw. Miss Stirling is a tender point with him."

Parkington smiled. "Which made me all the more careful to avoid trouble.--He is a good officer, I am told."

"A very good one--he went out with Forbes against Fort Duquesne, and made an enviable record. Now, his duties are merely nominal;--he is attached to his Excellency's staff."

Parkington nodded. "Well, I will try to keep on side-stepping. Only, what one overlooks when alone, one cannot let slip in a crowd. I am quite willing to do anything that will not compromise me."

Miss Marbury's laughter had floated to them, at intervals; now, she and Herford came slowly into view.

"Waiting?" she asked--"for what?"

"For you to change escorts," said Maynadier. "It is my turn, now."

Herford was perfectly willing to yield to Maynadier. His sole purpose had been to take Judith from the Englishman, and, that effected, he was ready to retire. He stepped back, and bowed himself away.

"You have accomplished wonders, Miss Marbury," he said. "The doldrums have completely vanished. I trust you may be as successful with Mr. Maynadier."

"Mr. Maynadier never gets the doldrums," she answered, over her shoulder. "He is far too serious minded!"

"Which might mean, that I am a bore," said Maynadier.

"Fishing, monsieur?"

"No."

"What do you call it, then?"

"What do _you_ call it?" he asked.

"Now, Dick, you want me to say you are the most entertaining man in the world."

"Not unless you think so."

"You know you are conceited, dreadfully conceited."

"No one ever told me so."

"No one ever took the trouble to tell you."

"Except you."

"And that is because I like you so well."

"Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth!" he soliloquized.

"What?"

"I said, whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth."

"I should like to see the Lord, or any one else, chastening you!"

"My dear Judith!"

"Does that shock you?"

"A trifle. You handle the Lord rather unceremoniously."

"Not any more unceremoniously than you men do, when we women are not present."

He laughed indulgently, bending down over her.

"Do you know," said he, "that you have a peculiarly fetching way with you this evening?"

"I always have had it," she answered, with a fling of the head, "but _you_ have never noticed it."

"I have been blind," he said.

"Yes, you have been blind," she agreed, with a quick glance upward.

"Henceforth, my eyes are open."

"Such is the result of walking in the moonlight, Dick. Oh, you will improve, in time!--give the moonlight a chance."

"It requires more than the moonlight," he declared.

"Of course--a pretty girl is essential, too."

"And it requires more than a pretty girl."

"No, the moon and the girl are sufficient."

"Does not inclination play a part?"

"It is resultant of the other two."

"But in varying degrees."

"Oh, yes!" she said.--"For instance, you are more earnest to-night than you used to be--though, in truth, sir, I never before knew you to take the two necessary ingredients in one dose."

"The girl and the moonlight, you mean?"

She nodded, smiling naively.

"That is because they were never offered me----"

"Offered you!" she exclaimed. "Do you expect them to be _offered_?"

"Again I have expressed myself poorly!" he laughed. "What I mean is, I never had the moonlight, and the inclination, and _you_ all together."

"I cannot answer for the inclination," she replied, "but as you have the moonlight and me, for the last four years, I may be pardoned if I doubt it."

"But do you doubt it?" he insisted.

"Certainly, I doubt it!--what woman would not?"

"No man would, if he could see you, now."

"Fol-de-rol!" she laughed, and snapped her fingers in his face. "Am I different from what I was last week, or last month, or last year?"

"No, you are not," said he. "I recognize it, now. Alas! that I did not recognize it sooner."

"And you expect me to believe?" she mocked--though her eyes belied her tones, had she but let him see them.

"No! all I can ask is that you be merciful."

"Do you even expect mercy?"

"After a time--when you have revenged yourself sufficiently."

"Revenged myself!" she quoted. "For what, pray?"

"For my blindness----"

She laughed, a light, alluring laugh. "Revenge is for a wrong done.--You have not wronged me. You have always been my good friend--the best friend a woman ever had."

He moved to catch her; she eluded him and sprang away, out of distance.

"Fie! Mr. Maynadier, you forget the dignity due a Governor's Councillor."

"I am apt to forget many things," said he, laughing, "with such a teasing beauty just out of reach."

"Where she will take care to hold herself until you are better mannered. What has come over you, Dick, you used to be proper enough--too proper, indeed."

"You little flirt!" he exclaimed, "what has come over _you_, you better say--where did you learn such tricks?"

"Not from you, sir."

"No, not from me--God save the mark!"

"But you seem to like them, Dick," she said. "Don't you wish it had been you who taught me?"

"No!" he said. "No; I would rather _you_ taught _me_."

"I am afraid you could never learn!" she laughed.

"Try me!" he begged. "I have unsuspected possibilities."

She looked at him with eyes half closed, a roguish, enticing look.

"And you think I could develop them?" she asked.

"I am sure you could."

"Better let Miss Stirling try--she can teach you far better than I.--Besides, I think she would welcome the opportunity."

"Miss Stirling has enough to do with the young men," he answered.

"I fancy you will find her very willing to take another."

"Where there are so many pupils, the instruction can not be thorough," he objected.

"Have you ever heard of the _favorite pupil_, sir?" she asked, with a sly smile. "Indeed, I am very much of the opinion she would even drop all the others, if you applied."

"You flatter me!" he remarked.

"Do I?" she asked, "well, I am not so sure; you see, she does not know you quite so well as some others do. And, if you are clever, she may never find you out."

"Lucky me!--You advise me, then, to take lessons from Miss Stirling?"

"Undoubtedly! You are ripe for it, and she is a rare instructor--it will be an admirable arrangement."

"And when I have learned everything that she can teach me, may I come back to you for the completion of my education?" he asked.

"May be you will not want to come back," she said.

"But, if I do," he persisted.

"And, may be, I shall have too many pupils, _then_, to bother with another."

"But, if you have not--if there is room for me?"

"I cannot answer, now. Wait until you apply, it will depend on what you have been taught, and the extent of your proficiency?"

He thought a moment. "The extent of my proficiency?" he repeated. "Should it be much or little?"

"That is for you to judge," she answered, enigmatically--and left him.

"That is for me to judge!" he muttered, looking after her. "Did she mean to warn me against learning too much from Miss Stirling? Did she mean to warn me against learning anything from her?" He smiled:--"Is she just a bit jealous of Miss Stirling, and has her jealousy quickened her perceptions?... My little Judith, have you cared for me--really, cared for me--all these years?--And have I been blind to the character of your affection, and blind to my own, as well?"

He turned aside into the park, where the great trees were whispering, softly, to one another, and all else was still.

Yes, he loved her! Not as the old friend, who had advised, and guided, and reproved. Not as he thought the man of steady life and confirmed habits, with wealth and reputation made, would love. Still more, not in the seemly manner a Governor's Councillor should love--but with a sudden rush of affection, that threatened to sweep away all the reserve and dignity of forty years. A love such as Paca, or Constable might have.

He steadied himself. He might love as a young man, but he must act with the judgment and discretion of his years--sedately and with good sense. He thought she loved him--thought she had shown it with all the openness she dared. But he was not sure. He might have been mistaken--he might have tinctured her words with his own hope--read in them far more than they conveyed, far more than a younger man would have dared to read.... Moreover, even if he had read aright, he must not permit his love to overbalance his duty. He must be the protector still; must guard her from all danger of a hasty choice, from a semblance which she mistook for the reality. Must put her happiness first, his own, only if it chimed with hers.... She was a dear girl--a dear girl! She would preside at Rose Hill in a manner in keeping with the mistresses who had preceded: his own sweet mother, his grandsire's stately wife. She would restore the life which had been of it, until he had become master, and let the old life die. He would go home, and prepare for her coming--prepare to live!...

Suddenly, he shook himself, as one awakening from a dream.

God! what if she would not come--what if she married another!...

XIII

THE CAMPAIGNS

The following morning, the party had just finished breakfast, and were clustered about in front of the house, when Captain Jamison came hurriedly up the avenue.

Old Marbury, with his foot in the stirrup, had paused for a moment's conversation with Mr. Plater and Parkington, and he regarded the approaching skipper with some surprise.

"What does this mean, Jamison?" he asked, "I thought you would be well on the way to Annapolis, by this time."

"So did I, sir," was the answer. "Such were your orders--but you can't never tell what will happen. The truth is, sir, Long-Sword has escaped!"

"Escaped! How?--when?" Marbury demanded.

The skipper was plainly much embarrassed--he twirled his cap between his fingers, shuffled his feet, and his glance wandered skyward.

"I don't know, sir--it was sometime between dark and daylight. He was in the cabin, tight enough, with the irons fast on him, when night fell--he was gone, this morning."

"With the irons fast to him?"

"No, sir, with the irons off him, sir, lying on his bunk--and as securely locked as when they were on him. How did he get out of them, sir, how did he get out of them?"

Marbury shook his head. "If you cannot tell, I am sure I cannot."

"Possibly he found the key you lost," observed Parkington.

"I did not lose it in his cabin, sir," said Jamison; "it was found at the foot of the companionway. I picked it up there, myself."

Parkington nodded. It was clever of Brandon to lock the irons and leave the key where it likely would be found.

"Then he must be small-boned and small-jointed. I have heard of men who could slip the irons in that way," remarked Plater.

"I think not--they seemed to fit him very close--in fact, he complained of them pinching him."

"Like enough!" laughed Plater. "Another proof that they were loose."

"Where was the guard--asleep?" asked Marbury.

"No, not asleep--dead! dead! with his own knife buried in his breast."

"When did you discover that Long-Sword was missing?"

"A little after day-break. I sent every man ashore on the search. I did not come here, until it was proved he had escaped."

"How did he get ashore?"

"Swam for it."

"Hum! pretty fair for a broken collar-bone!" Marbury remarked.

"He is a dangerous man, sir."

"Naturally--otherwise he would not be a pirate chief."

"He must be taken!" protested the skipper. "We must catch him!"

"Yes--we, or some one else, must catch him--and, as he seems to have got away from the vicinity, it will probably be some one else," Parkington observed.

"So you likely will not retire on your reward, Jamison," Marbury observed; "another will get the thousand guineas.... Why did you not notify us, at once?"

"Because, I hoped to catch him, sir."

"And not be obliged to tell me he had escaped--I see."

"It is only human nature," said Parkington. "Let me intercede for Jamison."

"It is not necessary; I reckon I would have done the same had our positions been reversed. Moreover, I am not much grieved over it. Long-Sword is a very decent sort of man--too decent to stretch a halter."

"You will do nothing, sir, to apprehend him?" gasped Jamison.

"Nothing!" said Marbury.

"And the seaman he killed, in cold blood?"

"Was the man married?--Yes? Then I shall give his widow a year's pay. For my part, I have had enough of pirates, and I do not propose to disturb this house party, especially the women folk, by hunting one who is trying his best to get away. You are at liberty, with your crew, to continue the search, provided it does not conflict with your orders. But Hedgely Hall is done with the buccaneering business--and, please God! it be done with her. Gentlemen, I must to the fields," and, with a curt nod, he was up in saddle and away.

"What are you going to do, Jamison?" said Parkington.

"Do, sir! what can I do? Follow down the coast, and raise the hue and cry--and, likely, find he has gone Northward! Devil's Ship! but it's a bad business."

"The pirate business is generally bad--in the end," remarked Parkington.

"If you do not catch Long-Sword, the chances are that some one else will," sympathized Plater.

"Yes, and get the reward," said Jamison.--"I cannot claim the thousand guineas, unless I deliver him to the authorities."

"Then, it is the reward and not the pirate you are after?"

"It is the pirate because of the reward.--I would not turn a hand to take him, otherwise."

"Well, you better be up and doing, or you will not have any chance of taking him," said Parkington. "If I can aid you, in any way, pray, command me. I rather fancy chasing a pirate on land--it is a novel experience."

"I'm off, sir!--I'm going down the coast; may be, I can pick him up. He will likely make for one of the Virginia ports. Thank you, sir, for your offer of assistance."

"He will never take him," said Plater, looking after Jamison. "The fellow has not gone to Virginia, I will wager. He will lie very low, until his injury is healed--a stranger, with a broken collar-bone, is too easily located."

Parkington nodded assent. "Marbury's course seemed to surprise Jamison," he said.

"Because Jamison was thinking only of the reward. I should have done just as Marbury did; he has the pirate ship, which, doubtless, he considers is prize enough. Jamison lost his prisoner through sheer carelessness, and Marbury does not intend to turn the plantation upside down to help retake him. Oh, the old man is usually right."

"He seems to have been, at least in getting money."

"Yes--after Carroll he is the richest man in Maryland.--You have met young Carroll."

Parkington nodded. "He seemed a particularly nice fellow."

"He is--though we scarcely know him. He has been in France since he was eight years of age, getting his education under the Jesuits, and, in London, studying law in the Temple: he returned home only last year. Having polished himself, he will now spend the rest of his life looking after his property."

"A pleasant occupation--when one has sufficient to look after."

"And at which only about half of us are even moderately successful. If I can retain my own, and my wife's, I shall be more than thankful. As for Marbury"--he ended with a gesture.

"Which means?" said Parkington.

Plater laughed. "That is what I do not know. He has two children--you have seen them, what is your estimate?"

"I have not seen enough to form an estimate, but I should say young Mr. Marbury shows excellent promise."

"Only promise! Exactly, Sir Edward; but he should show more than promise. He is a charming young man, but can he hold together the Marbury fortune. I admit that I and all the others are undecided. As for Miss Marbury----"

"It will depend upon the man she marries," said Parkington.

"And the fortune will be much less than George's. The bulk always goes to the heir, if he be of direct blood, the same as in England, though there is no entail."

"Who are Miss Marbury's suitors," asked Parkington, carelessly. "No one of the men, here, seems to be, and, yet, of course, she has them in plenty."

"She _could_ have them in plenty, but she will not. Every young fellow in Annapolis would have been only too happy--but, nay. They can be as friendly as they please; the instant they would be more, she is up and away."

"The right man has not come," said Parkington.

"Possibly, not!--But where can you find a better man than Paca, or Constable, or Jennings, or any one of the young bloods you meet at the Coffee-house?"

"I do not know--no one knows--possibly, even she does not know. But she will know, when the right one comes--that is, the right one for the time. He may be the wrong one in six months--more's the pity.--Yet even she cannot foresee that."

"You are a bit cynical!" laughed Plater. "May be they are the ways of England, but they are not our ways."

"Not your ways, _yet_," Parkington amended.

"And, I trust, _never_ will be. When a woman chooses a husband, with us, whether for love or policy--though, thank God! there is not much of the latter--she makes the best of it. And it is marvelous what you can do, if you settle yourself to it."

"I grant you that," said Parkington; "but the trouble with us seems to be, that, as the country grows broader in civilization, it loses in morals.--You are headed the same way; it is only a question of a little time until you are up with us."

"Do you mean it will come in my day?--that I shall see it?"

"Yes, I do--you colonists are learning fast. Witness, the Stamp Act, and so on. You are growing powerful, and with power comes laxity. But, we diverge--we were discussing our hostess; scarcely, the best-bred thing to do, but excusable under the circumstances. Has she never been in love--since she came to Annapolis, I mean?"

"I think not," said Plater; "at least, there never has been any indication of it. The one man she seems to like at all times, is Richard Maynadier--and he is almost old enough to be her father. He never has attempted to grow sentimental. He could not, if he wanted to. Maynadier and sentiment are strangers to each other."

("A word to the wise!" thought Parkington. "I must have a care, I see, for Mr. Richard Maynadier. No sentiment? Why, the man is full of it, or I observed him very poorly, last night.") What he said was: "Sometimes it is the slow hound that catches the fox, you know."

"Meaning Maynadier?" laughed Plater.

"No one else is eligible, you say."

"I did not say _he_ was eligible."

"But he is the only one who is given an opportunity--consequently, he must have a chance, if he care to take it."

"Pooh! He would be sent about his business as quickly as the next one, if he got sentimental. He is the _fidus achates_--he does not want to be more."

"I see--well, it is a rare man who can be _fidus achates_ to a handsome woman, without wishing to be more."

"Still the cynic?" laughed Plater.

"Very much!--it is against human nature."

A little later, Parkington chanced upon Miss Marbury near the sun-dial, in the garden.

"I hear that Long-Sword has escaped," she said, "and that father refused to permit a search for him, is it true?"

"Yes--he said he was not going to have your house-party disturbed by chasing a pirate, who was trying his best to get away--that he has had enough of pirates."

"How like father!"

"Your father is a very sensible man."

She gave him an appreciative look, which was not lost on him.

"The way to her good opinion is to praise her father," he thought, but he did no more of it, then. Instead, he changed the subject.

"You forsook me last evening," he said; "at the very first opportunity you deserted."

"To the enemy? I thought I was being very loyal--Captain Herford is in his Majesty's service, you know."

"It was not a question of his Majesty's service--every man is a king, at such times."

"Pardon! sire, pardon!" she laughed. "I did not recognize your kingship."

"That is just the reason I am complaining--you should have recognized it."

"What is the penalty for treason?" she asked. "Do not make it too severe, sire."