Part 28 (1/2)
”By George!” cried he, leaping up in the boat.
”Take care; thou wilt upset the skiff.”
”I have half a mind to.”
”Nonsense! I can swim like a duck.”
”This is no trifle, sir,” he returned. ”I will allow no man to take the liberty you insist on. It amazes me that you do not see this as I do. I am sorry, but I warn you once for all that I--”
”I am at your service, sir,” I broke in.
”Pshaw! nonsense! I am a guest in your father's house. I have thought it my duty, for your sake and my own, to say what I have said. When I know that you have again disobeyed my reasonable and most earnest wish, I shall consider how to deal with the matter. I have been forbearing so far, but I cannot answer for the future.”
”Cousin Arthur,” I replied, ”this seems to me a silly business, in which we have both lost our tempers. I have no hope that Miss p.e.n.i.ston will ever change her mind, and I am free to say to you that I think it useless to persist; but nevertheless--”
”Persist!”
”I said 'persist.' Until Miss p.e.n.i.ston is no longer Miss p.e.n.i.ston, I shall not cease to do all that is in my power to make her change her mind.”
”And you call that honourable--the conduct of a gentleman and a kinsman?”
”Yes; I, too, can be frank. I would rather see her marry any other man than yourself. You have sought to injure me, why I shall tell you at my own time. I think you have been deceiving all of us as to certain matters. Oh, wait! I must have my say. If you were--what I do not think you--a straight-forward, truthful man, I should think it well, and leave Miss p.e.n.i.ston to what seems to be her choice. You have been frank, and so am I, and now we understand each other, and--no; I heard you to an end, and I must insist that I too be heard. I am not sorry to have had this talk. If I did not care for her who has promised you her hand, I should be careless as to what you are, or whether you have been an enemy in my home while pretending to be a friend. As it is, I love her too well not to do all I can to make her see you as I see you; and this, although for me there is no least hope of ever having a place in her heart. I am her friend, and shall be, and, until she forbids, shall claim every privilege which, with our simpler manners, the name of friend carries with it. I trust I am plain.”
”Plain? By heavens! yes. I have borne much, but now I have only to add that I never yet forgave an insult. You would be wiser to have a care. A man who never yet forgave has warned you. What I want I get; and what I get I keep.”
”I think,” I said, ”that we will go ash.o.r.e.”
”With all my heart.” And in absolute silence I pulled back. At the slip he left me without a word, and I secured the boat and walked away, having found ample subject for reflection. Nor was I altogether discontented at my cousin's evident jealousy.
The afternoon of this memorable day I rode out on poor Lucy, whom I had put for safety in our home stables. I went out High to Seventh street, and up to Race street road, where there was better footing, as it had been kept in order for the sport which made us call it Race street, and not Sa.s.safras, which is its real name. I was brought to a stand about Twelfth street, then only an ox-path, by the bayonet of a grenadier, the camps lying about this point. I turned to ride back, when I heard a voice I knew crying:
”Holloa, Mr. Wynne! Are you stopped, and why?”
I said I knew no reason, but would go south. I was out for a ride, and had no special errand.
”Come with me then,” he said pleasantly. ”I am now the engineer in charge of the defences.” This was my Aunt Gainor's old beau, Captain Montresor, now a colonel.
”I am sorry your aunt will see none of us, Mr. Wynne. If agreeable to you, we will ride through the lines.”
I asked nothing better, and explaining, awkwardly I fear, that my aunt was a red-hot Whig, we rode south to Spruce street, past the Bettering-house at Spruce and Eleventh streets, where the troops which had entered with Lord Cornwallis were mostly stationed. The main army lay at Germantown, with detachments below the city, on the east and west banks of the Schuylkill, to watch our forts at Red Bank and the islands which commanded the Delaware River and kept the British commander from drawing supplies from the great fleet which lay helpless below.
As we went by, the Grenadiers were drilling on the open s.p.a.ce before the poorhouse. I expressed my admiration of their pointed caps, red, with silver front plates, their spotless white leggings and blue-trimmed scarlet coats.
”Too much finery, Mr. Wynne. These are a king's puppets, dressed to please the whim of royalty. If all kings took the field, we should have less of this. Those miserable devils of Mr. Morgan's fought as well in their dirty skin s.h.i.+rts, and can kill a man at murderous distance with their long rifles and little bullets. It is like gambling with a beggar.
He has all to get, and nothing to lose but a life too wretched to make it worth keeping.”
I made no serious reply, and we rode westward through the governor's woods to the river. As we turned into an open s.p.a.ce to escape a deep mud-hole, Mr. Montresor said:
”It was here, I think, you and Mr. Warder made yourselves agreeable to two of our people.” I laughed, and said it was a silly business and quite needless.
”That, I believe,” he cried, laughing, ”was their opinion somewhat late.