The Tory Lover 46

The Tory Lover 46

"Good God! what a melancholy story, and all England thinking that he

deserves his fate!" exclaimed Fairfax. "I cannot see how anything can

be done."

 

"There is but one gleam of hope," said Mr. Davis, who had not sat among

the Bristol magistrates in vain. He spoke pompously, but with some

kindness for Miss Hamilton, who was listening sadly enough, the eager

bravery of her face all gone; their last words had been very hard to

bear. "There is one thing to add. The story reached America, before

these good friends left, that young Mr. Wallingford was suspected by

many persons on board the Ranger of still holding to his early Loyalist

principles. They openly accused him of an effort to betray the ship

into our hands. If this is true"—

 

"It is not true!" interrupted Miss Hamilton, and both the gentlemen

looked a little startled. "No, it is not true," she repeated more

calmly. "It is not a proper plea to make, if he should never be set

free."

 

"We must think of his mother; we are only reviewing the situation in our

own fashion," said the elder man, frowning a stern rebuke at her. But

she would have her way.

 

"Mr. Davis has been very kind in the matter," she continued. "When we

were speaking together, last night, he told me that Lord Mount Edgecumbe

was now in Bath, and would have great influence about the American

prisoners."

 

"That is true," said Mr. Fairfax politely; "but I do not possess the

honor of his lordship’s acquaintance, and I fear that I have no means of

reaching him. He is in bad health, and but lately arrived in Bath to

take the waters."

 

"Miss Hamilton has brought letters"—

 

"I have some letters, given me by an old friend at home," acknowledged

Mary. "The writer was very sure that they would be of use to us. Do

you happen to know anything of Lord Newburgh, sir, and where he may be

found?"

 

"Lord Newburgh?" repeated the Virginian eagerly, with a quick shake of

his head and a sudden frown, though there was again a twinkle of

merriment in his eyes. Mary’s best hopes suddenly fell to the ground.

She was aware as she had not been before upon how slight a foundation

these best hopes might have been built. She had always looked up to

Master Sullivan with veneration; the mystery of his presence was like an

enchantment to those who knew him best. But he had been a long lifetime

in America; he might have written his letters to dead men only; they

might be worth no more than those withered oak leaves of last year that

were fluttering on the hedges, pierced by a new growth.

 

There was a pause. Mr. Fairfax’s face seemed full of pity. Miss

Hamilton began to resent his open show of sympathy.

 

"I am strangely inhospitable!" he exclaimed. "We were so quick at our

business that I forgot to offer you anything, sir, and you, Miss

Hamilton, after your morning’s ride! No, no, it is no trouble. You

will excuse me for a moment? I am like to forget my good bringing up in

Virginia, and my lady is just now absent from home."

 

Mr. Fairfax quickly left the room. The alderman sat there speechless,

but looking satisfied and complacent. It certainly did make a man

thirsty to ride abroad on a sunshiny morning, and his ears were

sharp-set for the comfortable clink of glasses. The heavy tray

presently arrived, and was put near him on a card table, and the old

butler, with his pleasant Virginian speech, was eager in the discharge

of hospitality; Mr. Fairfax being still absent, and Mary quite at the

end of her courage. She could not take the cool draught which old Peter

offered her with respectful entreaties, as if he were Cæsar, their own

old slave; she tried to look at the hunting pictures on the wall, but

they blurred strangely,—there was something the matter with her eyes.

 

"What noble Jamaica spirits!" said Mr. John Davis, looking at the

ceiling with affected indifference as his glass was being replenished.

"Did your master grow these lemons on his own plantations in Virginia?

They are of a wondrous freshness," he added, politely, to repeat his

approval of such an entertainment. "Miss Hamilton, my dear, you forget

we must take the long ride back again to Bristol. I fear you make a

great mistake to refuse any refreshment at good Peter’s hands."

 

 

The door was thrown open and Mr. Fairfax made a handsome, middle-aged

gentleman precede him into the room.

 

"I was afraid that I should miss this noble friend," he said gayly; "he

might have been taking advantage of so fine a morning, like yourselves.

Here is my Lord Newburgh, Miss Hamilton; this is Lord Newburgh himself

for you! You must have heard of the Honorable Mr. Davis, of Bristol, my

lord?—one of their great merchants. I have told you already that Miss

Hamilton brings you a letter, and that she hopes for your interest with

my Lord Mount Edgecumbe. My dear Miss Hamilton, this gives me great

pleasure! When you said that you had brought such a letter, I was sure

at last that there was one thing I could do for you."

 

Lord Newburgh gravely saluted these new acquaintances, taking quick

notice of the lady’s charm, and smiling over his shoulder at Mr.

Fairfax’s excited manner. He waved his hand in kind protest to check

Peter’s officious approach with the tray of glasses.

 

"So you have a letter for me, from America, Miss Hamilton?" he asked

bluntly; and she put it into his hand.

 

Lord Newburgh gave a curious look at the carefully written address, and

turned the folded sheet to see the seal. Then he flushed like a man in

anger and bit his lip as he looked at the seal again, and started back

as he stood close by the window, so that they all saw him. Then he tore

open Master Sullivan’s letter.

 

"It is dated this very last month!" he cried. "My God! do you mean to

tell me that this man is still alive?"

 

 

 

 

*XXXVI*

 

*MY LORD NEWBURGH’s KINDNESS*

 

"Thus says my King: Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead,

we did but sleep."

 

 

"What man?" asked Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Davis, with eager curiosity,

seeing such astonishment upon his face; but Lord Newburgh made them no

answer until he had read the letter and carefully folded it again. They

saw his hands tremble. He stood looking blankly at the two men and Miss

Hamilton, as if he were in doubt what to say.

 

"’T is like one risen from the dead," he told them presently, "but what

is written here is proof enough for me. There are some things which

cannot be spoken of even after all these years, but I can say this: ’t

was a friend of my poor father, Charles Radcliffe, and of his brother,

Darwentwater,—one of their unlucky company sixty years ago. There are

high reasons, and of State too, why, beyond this, I must still keep

silence. Great heavens, what a page of history is here!" and he opened

the letter to look at it once more.

 

"Mount Edgecumbe will not believe me," he said, as if to himself.

"Well, at least he knows something of those old days, too; he will be

ready to do what he can for such a petitioner as this, but we must be

careful. I should like to speak with Miss Hamilton alone, if you will

leave us here together, gentlemen," said Lord Newburgh, with quiet

authority; and Mr. Fairfax and the alderman, disappointed, but with

ready courtesy, left them alone in the room.

 

"Do you know the writer of this letter, madam?" demanded Lord Newburgh;

and he was so well aware of the girl’s beauty that, while he spoke, his

eyes scarcely left her face. "’T is true he speaks your name here and

with affection, but I cannot think his history is known."

 

Mary smiled then, and answered gently to her life-long acquaintance with

the master and her deep love for him, but that his early life was a

matter of conjecture to those who had longest been his neighbors. Lord

Newburgh saw with approval that she knew more than she was ready to

confess.

 

"He has followed the great Example,—he has given his life for his

friend," said Lord Newburgh, who showed himself much moved, when she had

finished speaking. "They should know of this among our friends in

France; by God’s truth, the King himself should know but for his present

advisers! I must say no more; you can see how this strange news has

shaken me. He asks a thing difficult enough; he has broken his long

silence for no light reason. But Mount Edgecumbe will feel as I

do,—whatever he asks should be promised him; and Mount Edgecumbe has

power in Plymouth; even with Barrington reigning in the War Office he is

not likely to be refused, though Barrington is a narrow soul, and we can

give no reasons such as make our own way plain. Your man shan’t stay in

the Mill Prison, I can promise you that, Ranger or no Ranger!"

 

Lord Newburgh smiled now at Miss Hamilton, as if to bring a look of

pleasure to so sweet a face, and she could not but smile back at him.

 

"I shall do my part of this business at once," he said, rising. "I

passed Mount Edgecumbe on my way here; he ’ll swear roundly at such a

request. He fears again that his great oaks must go down, and his temper

is none of the best. The Earl is an old sailor, my dear Miss Hamilton,

and has a sailor’s good heart, but this will stagger him well. You say

that Madam Wallingford, the young man’s mother, is now in Bristol?" and

again he looked at the letter. "Stay; before I speak with the Earl I

should like to hear more of these interesting circumstances. I must say

that my own sympathies are mainly with your party in the colonies. I

believe that the King has been made a tool of by some of his ministers.

But I should not say this if you are one of the Loyalist refugees. Why,

no, my dear!" He checked himself, laughing. "’T is a strange

confusion. I cannot think you are for both hound and hare!"

 

 

It was near an hour later when Mr. Fairfax fumbled at the latch to see

if he might be of service, and was politely though not too warmly

requested to enter. Mr. John Davis had grown fretful at their long

delay, but Miss Hamilton and Lord Newburgh were still deep in their

conversation. The young lady herself had been close to her brother’s

confidence, and was not ignorant of causes in this matter of the war.

Lord Newburgh struck his fist to the table with emphatic approval, as he

rose, and told the two gentlemen who entered that he had learned at last

what all England ought to know,—the true state of affairs in America.

 

The Virginia Loyalist looked disturbed, and showed some indifference to this bold announcement.