Part 7 (2/2)
”Oh, in the woods, you know, some one of the party must remain sober,”
said Enoch, readily, still stiffly erect, but with a faint grin twitching on the saturnine corners of his mouth.
This time Sir William laughed aloud, and pointed to a decanter and gla.s.s, from which the trapper helped himself with dignity.
”Look you, rogue,” said the host, ”there is a young gentleman to be added to your party next week, and doubtless he will of needs have a n.i.g.g.e.r with him. See to it that the boat and provision arrangements are altered to meet this, and to-morrow be sober enough to advise him as to his outfit.
For to-night, soak as deep as you like.”
Enoch poured out for himself a second tumbler of rum, but not showing the first signs of unsteadiness in gait or gesture.
”This young gentleman”--he said, gravely smacking his lips--”about him; is he a temperate person, one of the sort who can turn a steadfast back upon the bottle?”
A burst of Homeric laughter was Sir William's reply--laughter in which all were fain to join.
”It's all right, General,” said Enoch, as he turned to go; ”don't mind my asking. One never can tell, you know, what kind of company he is like to pick up with here at the Hall.”
My surprise and delight when I learned that I was the young gentleman in question, and that I was really to go to the Lakes and beyond, may be imagined. I seemed to walk on air, so great was my elation. You will not marvel now that I fail to recall very distinctly the general talk which followed.
Conversation finally lagged, as the promptings of hunger, not less than the Ethiopian shouting and scolding from the kitchen below, warned us of approaching dinner.
The drinking moderated somewhat, and the pipes were one by one laid aside, in tacit preparation for the meal. The Butlers rose to go, and were persuaded to remain. Mr. Stewart, who had an Old-World prejudice against tippling during the day, was induced by the baronet to taste a thimble of hollands, for appet.i.te's sake. So we waited, with only a decent pretence of interest in the fitful talk.
There came a sharp double knock on the door, which a second later was pushed partly open. Some of us rose, pulling our ruffles into place, and ready to start at once, for there were famous appet.i.tes in the wild Valley of those days. But the voice from behind the door was not a servant's, nor did it convey the intelligence we all awaited. It was, instead, the sharp, surface voice of Lady Berenicia, and it said:
”We are weary of waiting for you in civilized quarters of the Hall. May we come in here, or are you too much ashamed of your vices to court inspection?”
Walter Butler hastened to open the door, bowing low as he did so, and delivering himself of some gallant nonsense or other.
The London lady entered the room with a mincing, kittenish affectation of carriage, casting bold smirks about her, like an Italian dancer.
If her morning attire had seemed over-splendid, what shall I say of her appearance now? I looked in amazement upon her imposing tower of whitened hair, upon the great fluffs of lace, the brocaded stomacher and train, the s.h.i.+ning satin petticoat front, the dazzling, creamy surfaces of throat and shoulders and forearms, all rather freely set forth.
If the effect was bewildering, it was not unpleasant. The smoke-laden air of the dim old room seemed suddenly clarified, made radiant. A movement of chairs and of their occupants ran through the chamber, like a murmur of applause, as we rose to greet the resplendent apparition. But there came a veritable outburst of admiration when my lady's companion appeared in view.
It was our Daisy, robed like a princess, who dawned upon our vision. She was blus.h.i.+ng as much from embarra.s.sment as from novel pride, yet managed to keep her pretty head up, smiling at us all, and to bear herself with grace.
Lady Berenicia, from the wealth of finery in those bulky chests which honest Mr. Cross in vain had protested against bringing over the ocean and up to this savage outpost, had tricked out the girl in wondrous fas.h.i.+on.
Her gown was not satin, like the other, but of a soft, l.u.s.treless stuff, whose delicate lavender folds fell into the sweetest of violet shadows. I was glad to see that her neck and arms were properly covered. The laces on the sleeves were tawny with age; the ribbon by which the little white shawl was decorously gathered at the bosom carried the faint suggestion of yellow to a distinct tone, repeated and deepened above by the color of the maiden's hair. This hair, too, was a marvel of the dresser's art--reared straight and tight from the forehead over a high-arched roll, and losing strictness of form behind in ingenious wavy curls, which seemed the very triumph of artlessness; it was less wholly powdered than Lady Berenicia's, so that the warm gold shone through the white dust in soft gradations of half tints; at the side, well up, was a single salmon tea-rose, that served to make everything else more beautiful.
Picture to yourself this delicious figure--this face which had seemed lovely before, and now, with deft cosmetics, and a solitary tiny patch, and the glow of exquisite enjoyment in the sweet hazel eyes, was nothing less than a Greuze's dream--picture our Daisy to yourself, I say, and you may guess in part how flattering was her reception, how high and fast rose the gallant congratulations that the Valley boasted such a beauteous daughter. Sir William himself gave her his arm, jovially protesting that this was not the Mohawk country, but France--not Johnson Hall, but Versailles.
I came on at the tail of the dinner procession, not quite easy in my mind about all this.
<script>