Part 12 (1/2)
”So, so, grandfather,” she answered; and as she spoke, she lifted the small tea-table close to his side, and whispered on his cheek, ”you will have a cup of tea with me, dear grandfather, I shall not enjoy mine unless you do.” He said ”pooh! pooh! child,” but he was delighted, and with beaming smiles watched her small hands busy among the china, and the bread and meat.
”I am downright hungry,” she said. ”We had breakfast before leaving, but that seems hours and hours ago, and, O grandmother! there is no tea and bread like yours in all the world.”
Then she began her long gossip concerning people and events: the water parties on the river, the picnics in the woods, the dancing and gambling and games in the house. ”And I must tell you,” she said, ”that really and truly, I was the most admired of all the beauties there. The ladies all envied my frocks, and asked where I got them, and begged for the patterns; and I wished I had taken more with me. It is so exhilarating to have a new one for every evening. Lord Medway said every fresh one became me better than the last.”
”Lord Medway!” said the Elder. ”Is he that long, lazy man that trails after General Clinton like his shadow?”
”Well, they love each other. It seems funny for men to love one another; but General Clinton and Lord Ernest Medway are like David and Jonathan.”
”Maria Semple!” cried Madame, ”I think you might even the like o'
Clinton and the English Lord, to some one o' less respectability than Bible characters.”
”O grandmother! General Clinton is just as blood-thirsty as General David ever was. He hates his enemies quite as perfectly, and wishes them all the same sorts and kinds of calamities. I don't know whether Jonathan was good-natured, but Lord Medway is. He danced with me as often as I would let him, and he danced with n.o.body else! think of that, grandmother! the women were all madly jealous of me. I did not care for that much.”
”Janet, dear,” said the Elder to his wife, ”if you had ever seen this Lord Medway trailing up William Street or Maiden Lane, you wouldna believe the la.s.sie. He is just the maist inert piece o' humanity you could imagine. _Dancing! Tuts! Tuts! la.s.sie!”_
”He can dance, grandfather. Mrs. Gordon said the way he led me through a minuet was adorable; and Major Andr told me that in a skirmish or a cavalry charge, no one could match him. He was the hardest rider and fiercest fighter in the army.”
”Weel, weel!” said Madame, ”a man that isna roused by anything short o'
a battle or a cavalry charge, might be easy to live with--if you have any notion for English lords.”
”Indeed, I have not any notion for Lord Medway. He is the most provoking of men. He takes no interest in games, he won't stake money on cards, he listened to the music with his eyes shut; and when Miss Robertson and Major Andr acted a little piece the Major had written, he pretended to be asleep. He was not asleep, for I caught him awake, and he smiled at me, as much as to say that I knew all about his deception, and sanctioned it. I told him so afterward, and he laughed so heartily that every one looked amazed, and what do you think he said? 'It is a fact, ladies; I really laughed, but it is Miss Semple's fault.' I don't think, grandmother, I would have been invited to Hempstead if he had not let it be known that he was not going unless Miss Semple went.”
”Is he in love with you?”
”He thinks he is.”
”Are you in love with him?”
Maria smiled, and with her teacup half-way to her mouth hummed a line from an old Scotch song:
”I'm glad that my heart's my ain.”
Such conversation, touching many people and many topics, was naturally prolonged, and when Neil came home it was carried on with renewed interest and vigor. And Maria was not deceived when Neil with some transparent excuse of 'going to see a friend' went out at twilight.
”He is going to see Agnes,” she thought; ”my coming home is too good an excuse to lose, but why did he not tell me? Lovers are so sly, and yet all their cunning is useless. People always see through their little moves. In the morning I shall go to Agnes, and I hope she will not be too advising, because I am old enough to have my own ideas: besides, I have some experiences.”
All the way to her friend's house in the morning, she was making resolutions which vanished as soon as they were put to the test. It was only too easy to fall into her old confidential way, to tell all she had seen and heard and felt; to be petted and admired and advised. Also, she could relate many little episodes to Agnes that she had not felt disposed to tell her grandparents, or even Neil--compliments and protestations, and sundry ”spats” of envy and jealousy with the ladies of the party. But the conversation settled mainly, however often it diverged, upon Lord Medway. Agnes had often heard her father speak of him. He knew John Wesley, and had asked him to preach at Market-Medway to his tenants and servants; and on the anniversary of the Wesley Chapel in John Street he had given Mr. Bradley twenty pounds toward the Chapel fund. ”He is a far finer man than he affects to be,” she added, ”and father says he wears that drawling, trailing habit like a cloak, to hide his real nature. Do you think he has fallen in love with you, Maria?”
”Would it be a very unlikely thing to happen, Agnes? He danced only with me, and when Major Andr arranged the Musical Masque, he consented to sing only on the condition that I sang with him.”
”And what else, Maria?”
”One evening Quentin Macpherson danced the Scotch sword dance--a very clever barbaric thing--but I did not like it; the man looks better at the head of his company. However, he sang a little song called 'The Soldier's Kiss' that was pretty enough. The melody went in this way”--and Maria hummed a strain that sounded like the gallop of horses and shaking of bridles--”I only remember the chorus,” she said.
”A kiss, Sweet, a kiss, Sweet, For the drums are beat along the street, And we part, and know not when we meet, With another kiss like this, Sweet.
”And Lord Medway whispered to me that Shakespeare had said it all far better in one line, _'Touch her soft mouth and march.'_ In Major Andre's masque we had a charming little verse; I brought you a copy of it, see, here it is. The first two lines have a sweet crescendo melody; at the third line there was a fanfare of trumpets in the distance and the gentlemen rattled their swords. The fourth line we sang alone, and at the close Lord Medway bowed to me, and the whole room took up the refrain.” Then the girls leaned over the paper, and Agnes read the words aloud slowly, evidently committing them to her memory as she read:
”A song of a single note!