The Chainbearer; Or, The Littlepage Manuscripts Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  "He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling."--_Beatrice._

  The very day my sister and I left Satanstoe, there was an interestinginterview between my grandmother and myself, that it may be well torelate. It took place in the cool of the morning, before breakfast,indeed, and previously to the appearance of any of the rest of theparty; for Tom Bayard and his sister had again ridden across the countryto pass the night and see us off. My grandmother had requested me tomeet her thus early, in a sort of little piazza, that modernimprovements had annexed to one end of the old buildings, and in whichwe both appeared accordingly with the utmost punctuality. I saw by acertain sort of importance that my good grandmother wore in hercountenance, that she had weighty matters on her mind, and took thechair she had set for me with some little curiosity to learn what was tofollow. The chairs were placed side by side, or nearly so, but lookingdifferent ways, and so close together that, when seated, we were quiteface to face. My grandmother had on her spectacles, and she gazedwistfully through them at me, parting the curls on my forehead, as hadbeen her wont when I was a boy. I saw tears rolling out from behind theglasses, and felt apprehensive I might have said or done something tohave wounded the spirit of that excellent and indulgent parent.

  "For heaven's sake, grandmother, what can this mean?" I cried. "Have Idone anything amiss?"

  "No, my child, no; but much to the contrary. You are, and ever havebeen, a good and dutiful son, not only to your real parents, but to me.But your name ought to have been Hugh--that I will maintain long as Ilive. I told your father as much when you were born; but he was Mordauntmad then, as, indeed, he has remained pretty much ever since. Not thatMordaunt is not a good name and a respectable name, and they say it is anoble name in England, but it is a family name, and family names are notfor Christian names, at the best. Hugh should have been your name, if Icould have had my way; and, if not Hugh, Corny. Well, it is too late forthat now, as Mordaunt you are, and Mordaunt you must live and die. Didany one ever tell you, my child, how very, _very_ like you are to yourhonored grandfather?"

  "My mother, frequently--I have seen the tears start into her eyes as shegazed at me, and she has often told me my family name ought to have beenMordaunt, so much do I resemble her father."

  "_Her_ father!--Well, Anneke _does_ get some of the strangest conceitsinto her head! A better woman, or a dearer, does not breathe--I loveyour mother, my child, quite as much as if she had been born my owndaughter; but I must say she does get some of the strangest notions intoher head that mortal ever imagined. You like Herman Mordaunt! You arethe very image of your grandfather Littlepage, and no more like HermanMordaunt than you are like the king!"

  The revolution was then, and is now, still too recent to prevent theseconstant allusions to royalty, notwithstanding my grandfather had beenas warm a whig as there was in the colonies, from the commencement ofthe struggle. As for the resemblance spoken of, I have always understoodI was a mingled repetition of the two families, as so often happens, acircumstance that enables my different relatives to trace suchresemblances as best suit their respective fancies. This was quiteconvenient, and may have been a reason, in addition to the fact of mybeing an only son, that I was so great a favorite with the females of myfamily. My dear old grandmother, who was then in her sixty-ninth year,was so persuaded of my likeness to her late husband, the "old general,"as he was now called, that she would not proceed in her communicationsuntil she had wiped her eyes, and gratified her affections with anotherlong and wistful gaze.

  "Oh, _those_ eyes!" she murmured--"and _that_ forehead!--The mouth, too,and the nose, to say nothing of the smile, which is as much alike as onepea is like another!"

  This left very little for the Mordaunts, it must be owned; the chin andears being pretty much all that were not claimed for the direct line. Itis true my eyes were blue, and the "old general's" had been as black ascoals; my nose was Grecian, and his a most obtrusive Roman; and as forthe mouth, I can only say mine was as like that of my mother's as aman's could well be like a woman's. The last I had heard my father say athousand times. But no matter; age, and affection, and the longings ofthe parent, caused my grandmother to see things differently.

  "Well, Mordaunt," the good old lady at length continued, "how do youlike this choice of your sister Kate's? Mr. Bayard is a charming youngman, is he not?"

  "Is it then a choice, grandmother? Has Kate actually made up her mind?"

  "Pshaw!" answered my grandmother, smiling as archly as if she weresixteen herself--"that was done long ago--and papa approved, and mammawas anxious, and I consented, and sister Anneke was delighted, andeverything was as smooth as the beach at the end of the Neck, butwaiting for your approbation. 'It would not be right, grandmother, forme to engage myself while Mordaunt is away, and without his even knowingthe gentleman; so I will not answer until I get his approbation too,'said Kate. That was very pretty in her, was it not, my child? All yourfather's children _have_ a sense of propriety!"

  "Indeed it was, and I shall not forget it soon. But suppose I haddisapproved, what would have followed, grandmother?"

  "You should never ask unpleasant questions, saucy fellow; though I dareto say Kate would at least have asked Mr. Bayard to wait until you hadchanged your mind. Giving him up altogether would be out of thequestion, and unreasonable; but she might have waited a few months orso, until you changed your mind; and I would have advised her so to do.But all that is unnecessary as matters are; for you have expressed yourapprobation, and Kate is perfectly happy. The last letter fromLilacsbush, which Jaap brought, gives the formal consent of your dearparents--and what parents you have, my child!--so Kate wrote anacceptance yesterday, and it was as prettily expressed a note as I haveseen in many a day. Your own mother could not have done better in heryoung days; and Anneke Mordaunt worded a note as genteelly as any youngwoman I ever knew."

  "I am glad everything has gone right, and am sure no one can wish theyoung couple more happiness than I do myself. Kate is a dear, good girl,and I love her as much as a brother can love a sister."

  "Is she not? and as thorough a Littlepage as ever was born! I _do_ hopeshe will be happy. All the marriages in our family have proved sohitherto, and it would be strange if this should turn out differently.Well, now, Mordaunt, when Kate is married, you will be the only oneleft."

  "That is true, grandmother; and you must be glad to find there will beone of us left to come and see you, without bringing nurses and childrenat his heels."

  "I!--I glad of anything of the sort! No, indeed, my child; I should besorry enough did I think for a moment, you would not marry as soon as isprudent, now that the war is over. As for the children, I dote on them;and I have ever thought it a misfortune that the Littlepages have had sofew, especially sons. Your grandfather, _my_ general, was an only son;your father was an only son; and you are an only son; that is, so far ascoming to men's estates are, or were concerned. No, Mordaunt, my child,it is the warmest wish of my heart to see you properly married, and tohold the Littlepages of the next generation in my arms. Two of you Ihave had there already, and I shall have lived the life of the blessedto be able to hold the third."

  "My dear, good grandmother!--what am I to understand by all this?"

  "That I wish you to marry, my child, now that the war is ended; thatyour father wishes you to marry; that your mother wishes you to marry;and that your sister wishes you to marry."

  "And all of you wish me to marry the same person? Is it not so?"

  My grandmother smiled, but she fidgeted; fancying, as I suspected, thatshe had been pushing matters a little too fast. It was not easy,however, for one of her truth and simplicity of character to recedeafter having gone so far; and she wisely determined to have no reserveswith me on the subject.

  "I believe you are right, Mordaunt," she answered, after a short pause."We
_do_ all wish you to fall in love as soon as you can; to propose assoon as you are in love; and to marry Priscilla Bayard, the instant shewill consent to have you."

  "This is honest, and like yourself, my dear grandmother; and now we bothknow what is intended, and can speak plainly. In the first place, do younot think one connection of this sort, between families, quitesufficient? If Kate marry the brother, may I not be excused foroverlooking the attractions of the sister?"

  "Priscilla Bayard is one of the loveliest girls in York Colony, MordauntLittlepage!"

  "We call this part of the world York _State_, now, dearest grandmother.I am far from denying the truth of what you say;--Priscilla Bayard _is_very lovely."

  "I do not know what more you can wish, than to get such a girl."

  "I shall not say that the time will not come when I may be glad toobtain the consent of the young lady to become my wife; but that timehas not yet arrived. Then, I question the expediency, when friendsgreatly desire any particular match, of saying too much about it."

  My poor grandmother looked quite astounded, like one who felt she hadinnocently done mischief; and she sat gazing fondly at me, with theexpression of a penitent child painted in her venerated countenance.

  "Nevertheless, Mordaunt, I had a great share in bringing about the unionbetween your own dear parents," she at length answered; "and that hasbeen one of the happiest marriages I have ever known!"

  I had often heard allusions of this nature, and I had several timesobserved the quiet smile of my mother, as she listened to them; smilesthat seemed to contradict the opinion to which my grandmother's mistakennotions of her own influence had given birth. On one occasion (I wasstill quite a boy), I remember to have asked my mother how the fact was,when the answer was, "I married your father through the influence of abutcher's boy;" a reply that had some reference to a very early passagein the lives of my parents. But I well know that Cornelius Littlepage,nor Anneke Mordaunt, was a person to be _coaxed_ into matrimony; and Iresolved on the spot, their only son should manifest an equalindependence. I might have answered my grandmother to this effect, andin language stronger than was my practice when addressing that reverendparent, had not the two girls appeared on the piazza at that moment, andbroke up our private conference.

  Sooth to say, Priscilla Bayard came forth upon me, that morning, withsomething like the radiance of the rising sun. Both the girls had thatfresh, attractive look, that is apt to belong to the toilets of earlyrisers of their sex, and which probably renders them handsomer at thathour, than at any other part of the day. My own sister was a verycharming girl, as any one would allow; but her friend was decidedlybeautiful. I confess I found it a little difficult not to give in on thespot, and to whisper my anxious grandmother that I would pay properattention to the young lady, and make an offer at the suitable time, asshe advanced toward us, exchanging the morning salutations, with justenough of ease to render her perfectly graceful, and yet with a modestyand _retenue_ that were infinitely winning.

  "Mordaunt is about to quit me, for the whole summer, Miss Bayard," saidmy grandmother, who would be doing while there was a chance; "and I havehad him out here, to converse a little together, before we part. Kate Ishall see often during the pleasant season, I trust; but this is to bethe last of Mordaunt until the cold weather return."

  "Is Mr. Littlepage going to travel?" inquired the young lady, with justas much interest as good breeding demanded, and not a particle more;"for Lilacsbush is not so distant, but he might ride over once a week,at least, to inquire how you do."

  "Oh, he is going a great, great distance, and to a part of the world Idread to think of!"

  Miss Bayard now looked really startled, and a good deal astonished,questioning me with her very fine eyes, though she said nothing with hertongue of Coejemans, who bears this appellation, and who has contractedto get the necessary surveys made, though he fills the humble post of a'chainbearer' himself, not being competent to make the calculations.

  "How can a mere chainbearer contract for a full survey?" asked TomBayard, who had joined the party, and had been listening to thediscourse. "The chainbearers, in general, are but common laborers, andare perfectly irresponsible."

  "That is true, as a rule; but my old friend forms an exception. He setout for a surveyor, but having no head for sines, and co-sines, andtangents, he was obliged to lower his pretensions to the humbler duty henow discharges. Still, he has long contracted for jobs of this nature,and gets as much as he can do, hiring surveyors himself, the owners ofproperty having the utmost confidence in his measurements. Let me tellyou, the man who carries chain is not the least important member of asurveying party in the woods. Old Andries is as honest as noon-day, andeverybody has faith in him."

  "His true name is Coejemans, I think you said, Major Littlepage?" askedPriscilla, as it struck me _assuming_ an air of indifference.

  "It is, Andries Coejemans; and his family is reputable, if notabsolutely of a high caste. But the old man is so inveterate a woodsman,that nothing but patriotism, and his whig propensities, could have drawnhim out into the open country. After serving most gallantly through thewhole war, he has gone back to his chains; and many is the joke he hasabout remaining still in chains, after fighting so long and so often inthe cause of liberty."

  Priscilla appeared to hesitate--I thought her color increased alittle--then she asked the question that was apparently uppermost in herthoughts, with surprising steadiness.

  "Did you ever see the 'Chainbearer's niece, Dus Malbone?"

  This question not a little surprised me; for, though I had never seenUrsula, the uncle had talked so much to me of his ward, that I almostfancied she was an intimate acquaintance. It often happens that we hearso much of certain persons, that we think and speak of them as of thosewe know; and had Miss Bayard questioned me of one of my late comrades inthe service, I should not have been a whit more startled than I was athearing her pronounce the familiar name of Dus Malbone.

  "Where, in the name of all that is curious, did you ever hear of such aperson!" I exclaimed, a little inconsiderately, since the world wascertainly wide enough to admit of two young women's being acquainted,without my consent; more especially as one of them I had never seen, andthe other I had met, for the first time, only a fortnight before. "OldAndries was always speaking to me of his niece; but I could not supposeshe was an acquaintance of one of your position in life!"

  "Notwithstanding, we were something more than school-fellows;--for wewere, and I trust _are_ still very, very good friends. I like Dusexceedingly, though she is quite as singular, in _her_ way, as I haveheard her uncle described to be, in his."

  "This is odd! Will you allow me to ask one question? You will think itsingular, perhaps, after what you have just told me--but curiosity willget the better of my manners--is Dus Malbone a _lady_--the equal andcompanion of such a person as Miss Priscilla Bayard?"

  "That is a question not so easily answered, perhaps; since, in somerespects, she is greatly the superior of any young woman I know. Herfamily, I have always heard, was very good on both sides; she is poor,poor even to poverty, I fear now." Here Pris. paused; there was a tremorin her voice, even, and I detected tears starting to her eyes. "PoorDus!" she continued--"she had much to support, in the way of poverty,even while at school; where she was, indeed, as a dependent, rather thanas a boarder; but no one among us all, could presume to offer herfavors. I was afraid even to ask her to accept a ribbon, as I should nothesitate to do to Kate here, or any other young lady with whom I wasintimate. I never knew a nobler-minded girl than Ursula Malbone, thoughfew persons understand her, I think."

  "This is old Andries over again! He was poor enough, heaven knows; and Ihave known him actually suffer, in order to do his duty by this girl,and to make a proper appearance at the same time, as a captain in theNew York line; yet none of us, not even my father, could ever induce himto borrow a single dollar. He would give, but he would not receive."

  "I can believe this readily, it is so like Dus! If she
has herpeculiarities, she has noble qualities enough to redeem of Coejemans,who bears this appellation, and who has contracted to get the necessarysurveys made, though he fills the humble post of a 'chainbearer'himself, not being competent to make the calculations."

  "How can a mere chainbearer contract for a full survey?" asked TomBayard, who had joined the party, and had been listening to thediscourse. "The chainbearers, in general, are but common laborers, andare perfectly irresponsible."

  "That is true, as a rule; but my old friend forms an exception. He setout for a surveyor, but having no head for sines, and co-sines, andtangents, he was obliged to lower his pretensions to the humbler duty henow discharges. Still, he has long contracted for jobs of this nature,and gets as much as he can do, hiring surveyors himself, the owners ofproperty having the utmost confidence in his measurements. Let me tellyou, the man who carries chain is not the least important member of asurveying party in the woods. Old Andries is as honest as noon-day, andeverybody has faith in him."

  "His true name is Coejemans, I think you said, Major Littlepage?" askedPriscilla, as it struck me _assuming_ an air of indifference.

  "It is, Andries Coejemans; and his family is reputable, if notabsolutely of a high caste. But the old man is so inveterate a woodsman,that nothing but patriotism, and his whig propensities, could have drawnhim out into the open country. After serving most gallantly through thewhole war, he has gone back to his chains; and many is the joke he hasabout remaining still in chains, after fighting so long and so often inthe cause of liberty."

  Priscilla appeared to hesitate--I thought her color increased alittle--then she asked the question that was apparently uppermost in herthoughts, with surprising steadiness.

  "Did you ever see the 'Chainbearer's' niece, Dus Malbone?"

  This question not a little surprised me; for, though I had never seenUrsula, the uncle had talked so much to me of his ward, that I almostfancied she was an intimate acquaintance. It often happens that we hearso much of certain persons, that we think and speak of them as of thosewe know; and had Miss Bayard questioned me of one of my late comrades inthe service, I should not have been a whit more startled than I was athearing her pronounce the familiar name of Dus Malbone.

  "Where, in the name of all that is curious, did you ever hear of such aperson!" I exclaimed, a little inconsiderately, since the world wascertainly wide enough to admit of two young women's being acquainted,without my consent; more especially as one of them I had never seen, andthe other I had met, for the first time, only a fortnight before. "OldAndries was always speaking to me of his niece; but I could not supposeshe was an acquaintance of one of your position in life!"

  "Notwithstanding, we were something more than school-fellows;--for wewere, and I trust _are_ still very, very good friends. I like Dusexceedingly, though she is quite as singular, in _her_ way, as I haveheard her uncle described to be, in his."

  "This is odd! Will you allow me to ask one question? You will think itsingular, perhaps, after what you have just told me--but curiosity willget the better of my manners--is Dus Malbone a _lady_--the equal andcompanion of such a person as Miss Priscilla Bayard?"

  "That is a question not so easily answered, perhaps; since, in somerespects, she is greatly the superior of any young woman I know. Herfamily, I have always heard, was very good on both sides; she is poor,poor even to poverty, I fear now." Here Pris. paused; there was a tremorin her voice, even, and I detected tears starting to her eyes. "PoorDus!" she continued--"she had much to support, in the way of poverty,even while at school; where she was, indeed, as a dependent, rather thanas a boarder; but no one among us all, could presume to offer herfavors. I was afraid even to ask her to accept a ribbon, as I should nothesitate to do to Kate here, or any other young lady with whom I wasintimate. I never knew a nobler-minded girl than Ursula Malbone, thoughfew persons understand her, I think."

  "This is old Andries over again! He was poor enough, heaven knows; and Ihave known him actually suffer, in order to do his duty by this girl,and to make a proper appearance at the same time, as a captain in theNew York line; yet none of us, not even my father, could ever induce himto borrow a single dollar. He would give, but he would not receive."

  "I can believe this readily, it is so like Dus! If she has herpeculiarities, she has noble qualities enough to redeem a thousandfoibles. Still, I would not have you to think Ursula Malbone is not anexcellent creature in all respects, though she certainly has herpeculiarities."

  "Which, doubtless, she has inherited from the Coejemans, as her uncle,the Chainbearer, has _his_ peculiarities, too."

  "The Malbones have none of the blood of the Coejemans," answered thelady, quickly; "though it is respectable, and not to be ashamed of. DusMalbone's mother was only half-sister to Captain Coejemans, and they haddifferent fathers."

  I thought Pris. looked a little confused, and as if she were sorry shehad said so much on the subject at all, the instant she had betrayed somuch intimacy with the Malbone genealogy; for she shrunk back, plucked arose, and walked away smelling the flower, like one who was indisposedto say any more on the subject. A summons to breakfast, however, wouldotherwise have interrupted us, and no more _was_ said about theChainbearer, and his marvellous niece, Dus Malbone. As soon as the mealwas ended, our horses were brought round, and Kate and I took our leave,Jaap having preceded us as usual, an hour or more, with our luggage. Thereader is not to suppose that we always moved in the saddle, in thatday; on the contrary, my mother had a very neat chaise, in which sheused to drive about the country, with a mounted postilion; my father hada phaeton, and in town we actually kept a chariot; for the union of theMordaunt and Littlepage properties had made us very comfortable, andcomfortably we lived. But young ladies liked the saddle twenty-fiveyears ago, more than they do to-day; and Kate, being a capitalhorse-woman, like her mother, before her, we were often out together. Itwas choice, then, and not necessity, a little aided by bad roads,perhaps, that induced us to ride across to Satanstoe so often, when wewished to visit our grandmother.

  I kissed my dear old parent very affectionately at parting, for I was tosee her no more that summer; and I got her blessing in return. As forTom Bayard, a warm, brotherly shake of the hand sufficed, inasmuch as itwas pretty certain I should see _him_ at Lilacsbush before I left home.Approaching his sister, who held out her hand to me, in a friendlymanner, I said as I took it--

  "I hope this is not the last time I am to see you before I start for thenew countries, Miss Bayard. You owe my sister a visit, I believe, and Ishall trust to that debt for another opportunity of saying theunpleasant word 'farewell.'"

  "This is not the way to win a lady's heart, Mordaunt," cried Kate,gayly. "It is only fifteen miles from your father's door to theHickories, you ought to know, sir; and you have a standing invitation todarken its door with your military form."

  "From both my father and brother"--put in Priscilla, a little hastily."They will always be happy to see Major Littlepage, most certainly."

  "And why not from yourself, Miss Prude," added Kate, who seemed bent oncausing her friend some confusion. "We are not now such total strangersto each other as to render that little grace improper."

  "When I am mistress of a house of my own, should that day ever arrive, Ishall take care not to lose my reputation for hospitality," answeredPris., determined not to be caught, "by neglecting to include all theLittlepage family in my invitations. Until then, Tom's and papa'swelcomes must suffice."

  The girl looked amazingly lovely all the time, and stood the smiles ofthose around her with a self-possession that showed me she knewperfectly well what she was about. I was never more at a loss how tounderstand a young woman, and it is very possible, had I remained nearher for a month longer, the interest such uncertainty is apt to awakenmight have sent me away desperately in love. But Providence haddetermined otherwise.

  During our ride toward the 'Bush, my sister, with proper blushes and abecoming hesitation, let me into the secret of her having accepted TomBayard
. They were not to be married until after my return from thenorth, an event that was expected to take place in the ensuing autumn.

  "Then I am to lose you, Kate, almost as soon as I find you," I said, alittle despondingly.

  "Not lose me, brother; no, no, not _lose_ me, but _find_ me, more thanever. I am to be transplanted into a family whither you will soon becoming to seek a wife yourself."

  "Were I to come, what reason have I for supposing it would besuccessful?"

  "That is a question you have no right to ask. Did I even know of anyparticular reason for believing your reception would be favorable, youcannot believe me sufficiently treacherous to betray my friend. Youngladies are not of the facility of character you seem to suppose, sir;and no method but the direct one will succeed. I have no other reasonfor believing you would succeed than the facts that you are anagreeable, good-looking youth, however, of unexceptionable family andfortune, living quite near the Hickories, and of a suitable age, temper,habits, character, etc., etc., etc. Are not these reasons sufficient toencourage you to persevere, my brave major?"

  "Perseverance implies commencement, and I have not yet commenced. Iscarcely know what to make of your friend, child; she is either theperfection of nature and simplicity, or the perfection of art."

  "Art! Pris. Bayard artful! Mordaunt, you never did a human being greaterinjustice; a child cannot have greater truth and sincerity than Tom'ssister."

  "Ay, that's just it; Tom's sister is _ex officio_ perfection; but, youwill please to remember that some children are very artful. All I cansay on the subject at present is, that I like Tom, and I like hisparents; but I do not know what to think of your friend."

  Kate was a little offended, so she made me no answer. Her good humorreturned, however, before we had gone far, and the rest of our ridepassed pleasantly enough, no allusions being made to any of the name ofBayard; though, I dare say, my companion thought a great deal of acertain Tom, of that name, as I certainly did of his handsome andinexplicable sister.

  At the Kingsbridge Inn we had another short brush with that untiringgossip, its landlady.

  "A pleasant time it has been over at the 'Toe, I dares to say,"exclaimed Mrs. Light, the instant she thrust her head out of the door;"a most agreeable and amusing time both for the young gentleman and forthe young lady. Mr. Thomas Bayard and Miss Pris. Bayard have been withyou, days and days, and old Madam Littlepage is delighted. Oh! the 'Toehas always been a happy house, and happy faces have I long been used tosee come out of it, and happy faces do I see to-day! Yes, yes; the 'Toehas always sent happy, contented faces down the road; and a happy roofit has been, by all accounts, these hundred years."

  I dare say this was all true enough. I have always heard that the oldplace contained contented hearts; and contented hearts make happy faces.Kate's face was happiness itself, as she sat in the saddle listening tothe crone; and my countenance is not one of ill-nature. The "'Toe wasever a happy house!" It recalls old times, to hear a house thusfamiliarly spoken of; for a set is rising up among us which is vastlytoo genteel to admit that any one--man, woman, child, or Satan, ever hada member so homely as a 'Toe.