Part 26 (1/2)

”Madam,” he said, ”I am charged with a letter from Miss p.e.n.i.ston.”

”You may put it on the table,” says Mistress Wynne. ”My brother may choose his society. I ask the same privilege. It will not consist of gentlemen of your profession.”

Mr. Wynne's face grew black under its dark skin. ”Madam,” he said, ”I stay nowhere as an unwelcome guest. I thank you for past kindness, and I humbly take my leave. I could have done you a service as to this business of the quartering of officers, and you shall still have my good offices for the sake of the many pleasant hours I have pa.s.sed in your house. As my Cousin Hugh says nothing, I am glad to think that he is of a different opinion from that which you have put in words so agreeably.”

With this he went away, leaving my aunt red in the face, and speechless with wrath.

I thought he had the best of it; but I merely said, ”My dear aunt, you should not have been so hard with him.” I did, indeed, think it both unwise and needless.

”Stuff and nonsense!” says Miss Wynne, walking about as my father used to do. ”I do not trust him, and he has got that girl in his toils, poor child! I wonder what lies he has told her. How does he hold her? I did think that was past any man's power; and she is unhappy too. When a woman like Darthea begins to find a man out, she can't help showing it, and some are more frank on paper than in talk; that is her way. I am afraid I made mischief once, for I told him long ago that I meant her to marry you; and then I saw he did not like it, and I knew I had been a goose. Whatever is the reason he hates you, Hugh? Oh yes, he does--he does. Is it the woman? I will have no redcoats in my house.”

I got a chance to say--what I was sorry to have to say--how little need there was for him to fear poor me, whom Darthea wished to have nothing to do with, I thought.

”Her loves are like her moods, my dear Hugh; who knows how long they will last? Until a woman is married she is not to be despaired of.”

I shook my head sadly and went out.

I returned late in the evening, to order my horse to be saddled and sent to me before breakfast next morning; for I kept it at no cost in my aunt's ample stable. To my horror, I found a sentinel at the door, and the hall full of army baggage. In the parlour was a tall Hessian, General von Knyphausen, and Count Donop and others, smoking, much at their ease. They were fairly civil, but did not concern themselves greatly if I liked it or not. I found my aunt in bed, in a fever of vain anger.

She had the bed-curtains drawn, and when I was bid to enter, put aside the chintz so as to make room for her head, which appeared in a tall nightcap. I am unfit, I fear, to describe this gear; but it brought out all her large features very strongly, and to have seen her would have terrified a Hessian regiment.

”My house is full of Dutch dogs,” she cried. ”As soon as they came they ordered bones.” In fact, they had asked quite civilly if they might have supper.

”I saw them at their feed,” says my aunt, ”and the big beast, General Knyphausen, spread my best b.u.t.ter on his bread with his thumb, sir--his thumb! Count Donop is better; but Von Heiser! and the pipes! heavens!”

Here she retreated within her curtains, and I heard her say, ”Bessy Ferguson saw them come in, and must sail across the street and tell Job--the page with the turban--to congratulate me for her, and to advise me to get a keg of sauerkraut.”

I a.s.sured my aunt that fortunately these were gentlemen, but she was inconsolable, declaring herself ill, and that Dr. Rush must come at once.

”But,” I said, ”he is gone with all the Congress to York.”

”Then I shall die,” moaned my aunt.

At last, knowing her well, I said, ”Is it not too sad?”

”What's that? What?”

”Mr. Howe has taken Mrs. Pemberton's carriage and the pair of sorrels for his own use.”

At this my Aunt Gainor's large face reappeared, not as melancholic as before, and I added, ”Friend Waln has six to care for, and Thomas Scattergood has the Hessian chaplain and a drunken major. The rest of Friends are no better off.”

”Thank the Lord for all His mercies!” said Miss Wynne.

”And Mr. Cadwalader's house on Little Dock street Sir William has.”

”A pity that, Hugh. The fine furniture will pay for it, I fear. I think, Hugh, I am better, or I shall be soon.”

”They talk of the Meeting over the way for a barrack, Aunt Gainor.” Now this was idly rumoured, but how could one resist to feed an occasion so comic?

”I think I should die contented,” said Miss Wynne. ”Now go away, Hugh.

I have had my medicine, and I like it.” She was quick at self-a.n.a.lysis, and was laughing low, really happier for the miseries of her Tory acquaintances.

After the bedroom comedy, which much amused me and out of which my aunt got great comfort, she was inclined to be on better terms with the officers so abruptly thrust upon her. For a while, however, she declined to eat her meals with them, and when told that they had had Colonel Montresor to dine, and had drunk the king's health, she sent all the gla.s.ses they had used down to the blacks in the kitchen, and bade them never to dare set them on her table again. This much delighted Count Donop, who loved George of Hanover no better than did she, and I learned that she declared the bread-and-b.u.t.ter business was the worst of Von Knyphausen, and was no doubt a court custom. As to Count Donop, she learned to like him. He spoke queer French, and did not smoke. _”Je ne foume pas chamais, madame,”_ he said; _”mais le Cheneral, il foume touchours, et Von Heiser le meme,”_ which was true. The count knew her London friends, and grieved that he was sent on a service he did not relish, and in which later he was to lose his life.