The Virginians Read online

  CHAPTER XI. Wherein the two Georges prepare for Blood

  The Virginian Colonel remained in one chamber of the tavern, occupiedwith gloomy preparations for the ensuing meeting; his adversary in theother room thought fit to make his testamentary dispositions, too, anddictated, by his obedient brother and secretary, a grandiloquent letterto his mother, of whom, and by that writing, he took a solemn farewell.She would hardly, he supposed, pursue the scheme which she had in view(a peculiar satirical emphasis was laid upon the scheme which she hadin view), after the event of that morning, should he fall, as, probably,would be the case.

  "My dear, dear George, don't say that!" cried the affrighted secretary.

  "'As probably will be the case,'" George persisted with great majesty."You know what a good shot Colonel George is, Harry. I, myself, ampretty fair at a mark, and 'tis probable that one or both of us willdrop.--'I scarcely suppose you will carry out the intentions you haveat present in view.'" This was uttered in a tone of still greaterbitterness than George had used even in the previous phrase. Harry weptas he took it down.

  "You see I say nothing; Madame Esmond's name does not even appear in thequarrel. Do you not remember in our grandfather's life of himself, howhe says that Lord Castlewood fought Lord Mohun on a pretext of a quarrelat cards? and never so much as hinted at the lady's name, who was thereal cause of the duel? I took my hint, I confess, from that, Harry.Our mother is not compromised in the--Why, child, what have you beenwriting, and who taught thee to spell?" Harry had written the lastwords "in view," in vew, and a great blot of salt water from his honest,boyish eyes may have obliterated some other bad spelling.

  "I can't think about the spelling now, Georgy," whimpered George'sclerk. "I'm too miserable for that. I begin to think, perhaps it's allnonsense, perhaps Colonel George never----"

  "Never meant to take possession of Castlewood; never gave himself airs,and patronised us there; never advised my mother to have me flogged,never intended to marry her; never insulted me, and was insulted beforethe king's officers; never wrote to his brother to say we should be thebetter for his parental authority? The paper is there," cried the youngman, slapping his breast-pocket, "and if anything happens to me, HarryWarrington, you will find it on my corse!"

  "Write yourself, Georgy, I can't write," says Harry, digging his fistsinto his eyes, and smearing over the whole composition, bad spelling andall, with his elbows.

  On this, George, taking another sheet of paper, sate down at hisbrother's place, and produced a composition in which he introduced thelongest words, the grandest Latin quotations, and the most profoundsatire of which the youthful scribe was master. He desired that hisnegro boy, Sady, should be set free; that his Horace, a choice of hisbooks, and, if possible, a suitable provision should be made for hisaffectionate tutor, Mr. Dempster; that his silver fruit-knife, hismusic-books, and harpsichord, should be given to little Fanny Mountain;and that his brother should take a lock of his hair, and wear it inmemory of his ever fond and faithfully attached George. And he sealedthe document with the seal of arms that his grandfather had worn.

  "The watch, of course, will be yours," said George, taking out hisgrandfather's gold watch, and looking at it. "Why, two hours and a-halfare gone! 'Tis time that Sady should be back with the pistols. Take thewatch, Harry dear."

  "It's no good!" cried out Harry, flinging his arms round his brother."If he fights you, I'll fight him, too. If he kills my Georgy, ---- him,he shall have a shot at me!" and the poor lad uttered more than one ofthose expressions, which are said peculiarly to affect recording angels,who have to take them down at celestial chanceries.

  Meanwhile, General Braddock's new aide-de-camp had written five lettersin his large resolute hand, and sealed them with his seal. One was tohis mother, at Mount Vernon; one to his brother; one was addressed M. C.only; and one to his Excellency, Major-General Braddock. "And one, younggentleman, is for your mother, Madam Esmond," said the boys' informant.

  Again the recording angel had to fly off with a violent expression,which parted from the lips of George Warrington. The chancery previouslymentioned was crowded with such cases, and the messengers must have beenfor ever on the wing. But I fear for young George and his oath there wasno excuse; for it was an execration uttered from a heart full of hatred,and rage, and jealousy.

  It was the landlord of the tavern who communicated these facts to theyoung men. The Captain had put on his old militia uniform to do honourto the occasion, and informed the boys that the Colonel was walking upand down the garden a-waiting for 'em, and that the Reg'lars was a'mostsober, too, by this time.

  A plot of ground near the Captain's log-house had been enclosed withshingles, and cleared for a kitchen-garden; there indeed paced ColonelWashington, his hands behind his back, his head bowed down, a gravesorrow on his handsome face. The negro servants were crowded at thepalings, and looking over. The officers under the porch had wakenedup also, as their host remarked. Captain Waring was walking, almoststeadily, under the balcony formed by the sloping porch and roof of thewooden house; and Captain Grace was lolling over the railing, with eyeswhich stared very much, though perhaps they did not see very clearly.Benson's was a famous rendezvous for cock-fights, horse-matches, boxing,and wrestling-matches, such as brought the Virginian country-folkstogether. There had been many brawls at Benson's, and men who camethither sound and sober, had gone thence with ribs broken and eyesgouged out. And squires, and farmers, and negroes, all participated inthe sport.

  There, then, stalked the tall young Colonel, plunged in dismalmeditation. There was no way out of his scrape, but the usual cruel one,which the laws of honour and the practice of the country ordered. Goadedinto fury by the impertinence of a boy, he had used insulting words. Theyoung man had asked for reparation. He was shocked to think that GeorgeWarrington's jealousy and revenge should have rankled in the youngfellow so long but the wrong had been the Colonel's, and he was bound topay the forfeit.

  A great hallooing and shouting, such as negroes use, who love noise atall times, and especially delight to yell and scream when galloping onhorseback, was now heard at a distance, and all the heads, woolly andpowdered, were turned in the direction of this outcry. It came from theroad over which our travellers had themselves passed three hours before,and presently the clattering of a horse's hoofs was heard, and now Mr.Sady made his appearance on his foaming horse, and actually fired apistol off in the midst of a prodigious uproar from his woolly brethren.Then he fired another pistol off, to which noises Sady's horse, whichhad carried Harry Warrington on many a hunt, was perfectly accustomed;and now he was in the courtyard, surrounded by a score of his bawlingcomrades, and was descending amidst fluttering fowls and turkeys,kicking horses and shrieking frantic pigs; and brother-negroes crowdedround him, to whom he instantly began to talk and chatter.

  "Sady, sir, come here!" roars out Master Harry.

  "Sady, come here! Confound you!" shouts Master George. (Again therecording angel is in requisition, and has to be off on one of hisendless errands to the register office.) "Come directly, mas'r," saysSady, and resumes his conversation with his woolly brethren. He grins.He takes the pistols out of the holster. He snaps the locks. He pointsthem at a grunter, which plunges through the farmyard. He points downthe road, over which he has just galloped, and towards which the woollyheads again turn. He says again, "Comin', mas'r. Everybody a-comin'."And now, the gallop of other horses is heard. And who is yonder? LittleMr. Dempster, spurring and digging into his pony; and that lady in ariding-habit on Madam Esmond's little horse, can it be Madam Esmond? No.It is too stout. As I live it is Mrs. Mountain on Madam's grey!

  "O Lor! O Golly! Hoop! Here dey come! Hurray!" A chorus of negroes risesup. "Here dey are!" Dr. Dempster and Mrs. Mountain have clatteredinto the yard, have jumped from their horses, have elbowed through thenegroes, have rushed into the house, have run through it and across theporch, where the British officers are sitting in muzzy astonishment;have run down the stairs to the garden where George and Ha
rry arewalking, their tall enemy stalking opposite to them; and almost ereGeorge Warrington has had time sternly to say, "What do you do here,madam?" Mrs. Mountain has flung her arms round his neck and cries:"Oh, George, my darling! It's a mistake! It's a mistake, and is all myfault!"

  "What's a mistake?" asks George, majestically separating himself fromthe embrace.

  "What is it, Mounty?" cries Harry, all of a tremble.

  "That paper I took out of his portfolio, that paper I picked up,children; where the Colonel says he is going to marry a widow with twochildren. Who should it be but you, children, and who should it be butyour mother?"

  "Well?"

  "Well, it's--it's not your mother. It's that little widow Custis whomthe Colonel is going to marry. He'd always take a rich one; I knew hewould. It's not Mrs. Rachel Warrington. He told Madam so to-day, justbefore he was going away, and that the marriage was to come off afterthe campaign. And--and your mother is furious, boys. And when Sady camefor the pistols, and told the whole house how you were going to fight,I told him to fire the pistols off; and I galloped after him, and I'venearly broken my poor old bones in coming to you."

  "I have a mind to break Mr. Sady's," growled George. "I speciallyenjoined the villain not to say a word."

  "Thank God he did, brother!" said poor Harry. "Thank God he did!"

  "What will Mr. Washington and those gentlemen think of my servanttelling my mother at home that I was going to fight a duel?" asks Mr.George, still in wrath.

  "You have shown your proofs before, George," says Harry, respectfully."And, thank Heaven, you are not going to fight our old friend,--ourgrandfather's old friend. For it was a mistake and there is no quarrelnow, dear, is there? You were unkind to him under a wrong impression."

  "I certainly acted under a wrong impression," owns George, "but----"

  "George! George Washington!" Harry here cries out, springing overthe cabbage-garden towards the bowling-green, where the Colonel wasstalking, and though we cannot hear him, we see him, with both his handsout, and with the eagerness of youth, and with a hundred blunders, andwith love and affection thrilling in his honest voice we imagine the ladtelling his tale to his friend.

  There was a custom in those days which has disappeared from our mannersnow, but which then lingered. When Harry had finished his artless story,his friend the Colonel took him fairly to his arms, and held him tohis heart: and his voice faltered as he said, "Thank God, thank God forthis!"

  "Oh, George," said Harry, who felt now how he loved his friend with allhis heart, "how I wish I was going with you on the campaign!" The otherpressed both the boy's hands, in a grasp of friendship, which each knewnever would slacken.

  Then the Colonel advanced, gravely holding out his hand to Harry's elderbrother. Perhaps Harry wondered that the two did not embrace as he andthe Colonel had just done. But, though hands were joined, the salutationwas only formal and stern on both sides.

  "I find I have done you a wrong, Colonel Washington," George said, "andmust apologise, not for the error, but for much of my late behaviourwhich has resulted from it."

  "The error was mine! It was I who found that paper in your room, andshowed it to George, and was jealous of you, Colonel. All women arejealous," cried Mrs. Mountain.

  "'Tis a pity you could not have kept your eyes off my paper, madam,"said Mr. Washington. "You will permit me to say so. A great deal ofmischief has come because I chose to keep a secret which concerned onlymyself and another person. For a long time George Warrington's heart hasbeen black with anger against me, and my feeling towards him has, I own,scarce been more friendly. All this pain might have been spared to bothof us, had my private papers only been read by those for whom they werewritten. I shall say no more now, lest my feelings again should betrayme into hasty words. Heaven bless thee, Harry! Farewell, George! Andtake a true friend's advice, and try and be less ready to think evil ofyour friends. We shall meet again at the camp, and will keep our weaponsfor the enemy. Gentlemen! if you remember this scene to-morrow, youwill know where to find me." And with a very stately bow to the Englishofficers, the Colonel left the abashed company, and speedily rode away.