CHAPTER I

A Ship Comes In

All night the waters of the Chesapeake and those of the Atlantic beyond had been tumbling under the force of a fresh east wind that was bearing an incoming vessel straight up to her harbor and home. But with the first streak of gray along the far horizon, Night ceased to flap her dusky wings, and the wind fainted till it was but a breath. As the wavelets lapped against the ship's side, her captain, longing for home, shrugged his big shoulders and ordered out more canvas.

It was a fair dawn. The whole stretch of sky over the bay was flushed with pink and beamy with gold; while beyond this the clear greenish turquoise of mid-sky and the west grew so vivid that the last clinging night-mist melted away, and the day waited only for the sun. He came at last, a great, fiery wheel, dripping from a watery bath and pouring his splendor back to the waters again till the river ran gold, dazzling the eyes of the gulls that veered across its breast down to the bay and out towards the salty sea. And the sun woke the forests of birches and poplars and spruce, colored the dandelions in the grass all over again, drank dew from the flower-cups, played with the breeze among the peach-blossoms of the orchard on the bank, and finally entered into the quaint breakfast-room of a colonial house, Trevor Manor, that stood on the river Severn, three miles from the city of Annapolis.

Adam, the house-butler, very black and very sleepy, was in this small apartment, dusting. From the next room Lilith, his wife, hummed, in a rich contralto, over her sweeping. Otherwise the house was still; for the sun rises early in May.

The breakfast-room wherein Adam worked, or played at work, is worthy of description, perhaps; for the colonial country-side knew nothing just like it. It was the south-west corner room on the lower floor, opening out of the library, but so easily accessible from the kitchen, which was fifty feet from the house, that the family commonly used it for all their meals. The general Southern fashion of dining in the central hall, from a custom of hospitality, had its drawbacks. On the north side of the breakfast-room were the library door, a small buffet covered with the best cheynay, some chased silver, and a little Venetian glassware, the pride of the family heart, and, on the other side of the doorway, a badly done family portrait. In the east wall was a large fireplace, with a mantel above, on which stood two large porcelain jars and a black bust of Plato, over which hung a recent print of his Majesty King George. To the south a large window looked out upon the yard behind; but the western wall of this little place was no wall at all. Across the top of it, just below the ceiling, a grudging support to the upper story was given by a heavy oaken beam. Beneath this all was glass. The little, opal-like, diamond-shaped panes, were wont to catch the rays of the afternoon sun, and make the room, from noon to twilight, a blinding, rainbow cloud of light. A door, too, there was here, all of glass and bound with lead--a real triumph of craftsman's skill in those simple days. It had been Madame Trevor's idea, however,--and where was the workman in Maryland who would not have been stimulated to inspiration with Madame Trevor to oversee his work? The door opened upon a terrace which led by a little flight of steps down into the rose-garden, or, by a diverging path, off to the big round kitchen, in which last building the morning fires had been lit, and Chloe, with Phyllis, her scullion, daughter, and probable successor, was plucking spring chickens for the morning meal.

Adam and Lilith, their first tasks ended, were now setting the table in the breakfast-room, with table-cloth of unbleached linen, the ordinary service of burnished pewter, silver knives, and carving-set of steel, horn-handled. When the six places at the oval table had been laid, Lilith disappeared through the glass door, to return presently with a great platter of newly picked strawberries, green-stemmed, scarlet and fragrant, and still glistening with dew. These were set in the centre of the table, while on either side stood an earthenware bowl heaped with sugar, patiently scraped by Adam from the high, hard loaves that came, wrapped in bright purple "dye-paper," up from the Spanish Indies.

The sun being by this time nearly two hours high in the heavens, the breakfast-room was deserted by serving-folk to regain a more tranquil tone for the reception of its ordinary habitants. Through the open door came the breath of the May morning, heavy with the sweetness of the garden just outside. Plato gazed mildly down upon the two or three lazy flies that hummed over the strawberries, and once a robin from the woods near by skimmed into the room, brushed past the decanters on the buffet, halted for a second on a jar near King George, and made a darting exit through the open southern window.

Finally, into the waiting solitude, came Sir Charles--Sir Charles, tall, slender, graceful, freshly wigged and powdered, his lieutenant's uniform of scarlet and white in harmony with the morning, the _Gentleman's Magazine_ in one of his well-kept hands, an eye-glass on a silken cord in the other. He seated himself in an evidently accustomed place at the table, pushed back his chair a little, comfortably crossed his legs, and began to reperuse an article on the best methods of preserving fox-brushes, which had engaged his attention the evening before. He was not a rapid reader, and he had not half finished the column when he felt, unmistakably, another presence near him. Thereupon he permitted himself an unmannerly luxury:

"Good-morning, Debby," he murmured, without looking up.

"Good-morning, Sir Charles," was the reply.

Then, quickly throwing aside his paper, the young man rose, bowed as he should have done, and stood looking at her who was before him.

[Illustration: "THE YOUNG MAN ROSE AND BOWED"]

Deborah stood in the glass doorway, half in and half out of the room. Her face was slightly flushed, and her hair, as usual, in a state of delightful, crinkly disorder. Otherwise her appearance was immaculate, and, for all Sir Charles could have told, she might have been in a costume of brocade and lace. It was no more, however, than a faded blue and white homemade linen over a petticoat of brown holland, with a small white muslin kerchief crossed upon her breast. She was bareheaded, and the hair that had been tossed into a thousand rebellious ringlets was tied back with a blue ribbon. Deborah Travis, Sir Charles Fairfield's second cousin, and Madame Trevor's first, was, at this time, seventeen years old, and not yet so pretty as she gave promise of being--later. Nevertheless, Sir Charles' poorly concealed devotion in her direction was a matter that was not discussed in the Trevor family. The tongues of slaves, however, are seldom bridled among themselves; and neat things upon this interesting topic were not infrequently spoken round cabin-fires on cool evenings in the quarters.

"You've quite recovered, I trust, Deborah, from your--your indisposition of yesterday?"

The girl's cheeks grew pink as she answered, quietly, "Quite, thank you, Sir Charles."

"'Twas another experiment in the still-room?" he ventured.

"Of course," she responded, reluctantly, and in a tone that finished the topic.

There was a pause. The Governor's lieutenant was finding himself again. "Will not you come in, Mistress Debby?" he said, finally. "Or may I come out and walk in the garden a little with you?"

"Thank you, I shall come in. Breakfast is ready, but the rest are late."

"And you have been in the still-room all this while?"

"No, I have been in the twelve-acre field, and as far as Hudson's Swamp."

"Devil take me! What were you doing there?"

"I was hunting for a plant--but I could not get it. I brought home some young tobacco instead."

"Why--why--Deborah, 'tis always plants with you! Can you find nothing nearer home to suit your pleasure? Tell me the plant you sought, and I will hunt for it to the other end o' Maryland, if you command."

"Thank you, Sir Charles, but in a month I shall pluck it for myself, at the end of the huckleberry path. 'Tis spotted hemlock. I found one, young yet, but well-looking, which I shall gather as soon as 'tis big enough."

"Spotted hemlock! Child, 'tis rank poison! I'd a horse die of it once in--"

He broke off suddenly and turned about as Madam Trevor, with her younger daughter, Lucy, rustled into the room. The elder lady looked rather sharply from her nephew to her young cousin as she came in; but she could read neither face. Sir Charles bowed with great respect, and Deborah gave her usual demure courtesy for the morning. Lucy was a slight, pretty little creature, with thin, silky dark hair, lively blue eyes, and a waist as trim as Deborah's own. She greeted the two cousins with equal grace, but seemed to prefer Deborah's company, drawing her a little on one side to show a spindle-prick upon her finger. Their whispered conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the master of the house, Madam Trevor's only son, Vincent. He was a well-built, muscular fellow, a trifle short for his breadth of shoulder, with the family's blue eyes, and hair so black that the powder but badly concealed its hue. He greeted his mother with profound respect, lightly kissed his little sister's cheek, and nodded to Deborah in a preoccupied fashion. Then, joining Charles at the buffet, he proceeded to mix their first potation of the day, two Venice glasses full of Jamaica rum, sugar, and water. Both gentlemen drank to the health of Madam Trevor, who acknowledged the usual courtesy with a slight nod, and then, seating herself at the head of the table, drew towards her the platter of strawberries.

"We are not to wait for Virginia?" asked Vincent, taking his place.

Madam was about to reply when, from the little passageway beyond the library, came the crisp rustle of stiff petticoats, and Virginia Trevor, the belle of Annapolis, tall, fresh of complexion, unrouged, of slender figure, and delicate patrician features, came smilingly into the room. The gentlemen hastened to rise, and Sir Charles lifted back her chair.

"Thank you. Your pardon, madam, for being late. Amanda was very slow."

"After your wakefulness of last night, I had not imagined that you would attempt to rise this morning," answered her mother.

Virginia glanced at Lucy, and a half smile passed between them. It was over before Madam Trevor perceived it.

"Debby was the sick one yesterday," observed Lucy, gently. "But you seem to be quite recovered to-day," she finished, turning to her cousin, just as Adam entered from the kitchen, bearing with him a platter of fried chickens, crisply browned and smoking, while Lilith followed with hoe-cake and bacon.

"Deborah's illness appears to be a matter of her own choice," remarked Madam Trevor, with displeasure in her tone. "She has been warned of the dangers of her strange and useless experiments. If she chooses to go her way against all advice, she must accept the consequences of such folly."

Deborah was silent, and appeared unconcerned at the reproof. Virginia, however, rather unwisely, spoke in her favor. "Indeed, Debby's experiments would seem to me most useful, mother. You yourself say that no one about Annapolis can make such rose and lavender water, or distil such cordials and strong waters as she. The still-room, too, is a different place since she was given charge over it."

"I was not of the opinion, Virginia, that Deborah's illness resulted either from rose-water or from cordial. And, as to the still-room, who enters it to know how it may be kept?"

"Madam Trevor, I have never refused entrance to any one of the family or the slaves who has wished to enter the room you gave me charge over! Indeed, Lucy--"

"That is enough, Deborah."

Sir Charles Fairfield, though to all appearances he had not been listening to the short conversation, flushed a little at the manner in which it was ended, and, raising his voice, he addressed Vincent:

"Will you ride into town with me to-day? I've not waited on his Excellency for a week. On my life! they give us an easy time out here! Fancy a full-pay staff-officer at home, in camp, not seeing his colonel for a week! I must really ride in to-day. Come with me, Vincent, and see what idea there is of a chase next week."

Vincent poured out another tankard of quince-cider and slowly shook his head: "'Tis not possible to-day, Charles. They are just beginning to top the tobacco. I am going over all the farther fields with Thompson--and there are three new blacks to be graded. If you'll go to-morrow, I'll ride with you; but not to-day."

"Pa'don, Mas' Trev'!" cried a black boy, in house livery, who came running in from the front. "Docta' Caw'l and Mist' Cawlve't outside on the' ho'ses, an' say, can they come in?"

"Mr. Calvert!" cried Lucy.

"Go to meet them and bring them here at once, Vincent," commanded Madam Trevor, at the same time sounding a hand-bell for Adam and Lilith.

Vincent and Charles together hurried out of the room, while the ladies drew more closely together at the table, and two extra places were laid.

"Bring some fresh chicken and hot bacon and hoe-cake at once, Adam; and have Chloe fry some oysters and tap a barrel of apple-jack."

The slaves scurried away to the kitchen again as the sound of deep masculine voices was heard in the library. The guests entered the breakfast-room side by side, and the four ladies rose to greet them; Madam Trevor first, with her daughters just behind her, and Deborah, with suddenly eager eyes, a little to one side.

Dr. Charles Carroll, father of "Mr. Carroll, of Carrollton," foremost Whig and Catholic in Annapolis, always in disfavor with the Governor officially, and excellent friends with him of a Saturday night, forty-five years old, wealthy, bluff, a little gray under his bag-wig, booted, spurred, fresh of color, and bright of eye, greeted his old friend and mentor, Madam Trevor, with hearty good-humor. Beside him was Benedict Calvert, a son of the Lord Proprietary, but Protestant bred; Whig by preference, slender, handsome, unusually dignified, and quite unaffected. After the various salutations the entire party reseated themselves at table, and the guests, hungry after their early canter, helped themselves without stint to the freshly cooked food brought in for them. The doctor had placed himself, as usual, by Deborah, who was all attention now; while Mr. Calvert, with a sympathetic smile of understanding and good-comradeship, was by Lucy, with his hostess on the other side.

"And now, madam, young ladies, Sir Charles, and our host," cried the doctor, in a hearty voice, "we are about to repay your hospitality with news, excellent news, for every one of you!"

"Ah! Let us hear it, doctor!" cried Vincent, while the others murmured assent.

"Well, then, for the ladies first! The _Baltimore_ is in port, after a bad voyage. She sailed from Portsmouth on the 20th of February. I was on the south piers as she came to anchor. Her cargo--or part of it--is all for feminine ears to hear. She has with her the last fashions from home, and the material to reproduce them. There are paduasoys and lutestrings, and satins and laces, and damasks and silverware, and cheynay and glass, and ribbons and combs, and shoe-buckles and silk stockings, and most wonderful garters, I'm told; and--"

"Nay, now, doctor, 'tis far enough!" cried Sir Charles; and the gentlemen laughed.

"Well, then, there are those things, and more. And on the morrow, at ten of the morning, there is to be a public sale on the docks off Hanover Street, where he who has the wherewithal may buy. And I am bidden to ask you all to ride in and spend what moneys you can wrest from Vincent's hands, and, after, to come to my house, where Mistresses Letitia and Frances will serve you with a fair widower's dinner. How now--what think you of my first news, damsels?"

"'Tis what none in the world but you could bring, Dr. Carroll," replied Madam Trevor, beaming graciously.

"And we may go, mother?" asked Lucy, voicing the anxiety of her more dignified sister and her silent cousin.

"Yes, we will go--and our compliments and thanks to Mistress Letitia and Mistress Frances for their asking. Deborah, child, you must have tabby for a new petticoat; and I shall get you all muslins."

"And I must have a new set of plumes for--"

"Mother, may I not have a flowered paduasoy this year?"

"Come, come, girls! 'Tis our turn now! Surely, doctor, you do not imagine us interested in sales of silk stockings and satins? What is the news for us?" asked Vincent, with a slight smile.

Benedict Calvert laughed. "Troth, sir, 'tis not every man that is so unfeignedly disdainful of silk stockings and satins, whether for his own attire or for a lady's. Howbeit, there is other news that you may like to hear. In the assembly yesterday the matter of the commissioners for Lancaster was finally settled. Word has come from Virginia that the council will open on the 25th of June. Our men will probably leave here on the 20th; and--"

"I am elected to go, devil take me!" cried Sir Charles, ruefully.

"No such luck. Do not bemoan thyself, Charlie. Not one of the Governor's staff, and only one official--Marshe--is of the number," returned Benedict, grinning broadly. "'Twas a prudent choice. Not a Radical on either side."

"Then the doctor's scarce in," observed Vincent.

"That am I not," returned the doctor with eminent good-humor. "But Mr. Calvert--the worshipful Mr. Calvert--is; and so are Phil Thomas, and the Reverend Mr. Cradock, and Edmund Jennings, and Colvill, and--ah, yes! Bob King. There, at least, is one Radical for you. Well, well! Even such as they should manage, together with their right honorable compeers from Virginia and Pennsylvania, to buy the right of our colonial lands from the Six Nations--after a hundred and fifty years of occupancy willy-nilly!"

"Quite so. And now that's all our news, Madam Trevor. Does it equal the breakfast?"

"Not quite all, seeking your pardon! But the other matter is for the ears of Mistress Debby here, whom, if you will permit me, madam, I will, after breakfast, attend to her sanctum--the still-room."

Deborah did not move. Her eyes dropped, and sharp-eyed Calvert himself could not have guessed the eagerness hidden under her perfect mien.

"Deborah has been too much with her drugs of late, Dr. Carroll. I think it were better if you talked with her on some healthier subject. I am not over-fond of her ill-considered ways. They are morbid, much of the time."

"Ah, madam, I am sorry for that! I look forward to the consultations with little Mistress Deborah as the happiest reminiscences of my professional days--before I abandoned physic for merchandise. Your young cousin has remarkable talent about it."

Madam Trevor shrugged her shoulders. "If you put it in that way, Dr. Carroll, how can I refuse you your pleasure in coming to our plantation? If 'tis a question of talking with Deborah or not coming at all, why--Deborah is all at your service."

"By my troth, Madam Antoinette, if that is a pleasantry, it is not one that I like overmuch. How could you so take my words?"

"Come now, doctor, hurry on! Conduct the damsel to your physicking-room, and I'll wait here. You forget that our road leads on to the Kings'."

"To be sure. Well, Debby, let us be off. I must see your manipulation of the new retort."

Thereupon the doctor and his protégée, leaving the others still at table, went together out of the glass door, down the path, across the yard, with its great poplar-trees and the groups of pickaninnies playing, as usual, about the high well-sweep, to a small building a trifle northeast of the cabins and half hidden in great lilac bushes that clustered before its very door. This was Deborah's sanctum, the still-room; and into it she and her companion retired.

The single room contained three large windows, through one of which nodded a thick bunch of purple lilacs, heavy with perfume, and still damp with dew. Along the windowless wall of the room ran a stout pine table, on which, among various utensils, stood two chemist's retorts, one the old iron alembic, the other Deborah's greatest treasure, a glass retort for which Dr. Carroll had sent to Europe. In one corner stood the charcoal box, a tall, iron brazier containing some smouldering coals, and a keg for water.

While Deborah built up her charcoal fire and carried the brazier to the table, Carroll went over to a corner cupboard, opened its door, and looked in upon the five shelves where, ranged in orderly rows, stood all the phials and flasks that Deborah had been able to collect. Only a dozen or so contained more or less muddy-looking liquids, and on each of these was pasted a paper label covered with fine writing. One after another the doctor picked them up and examined them.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, finally, taking the cork from one, and smelling the cloudy mixture within. "Aha! You have it here! I thought so. Now, this is precisely the thing that I should advise."

Deborah went over to him. "What! The monkshood? 'Tis a poor solution. For want of pure alcohol, I had to use rum."

"No matter. Let us manipulate this a bit, Debby, instead of your tobacco there. For this is necessary. And while we are distilling some pure _aconitum napellus_, I will tell you a little story, and weave for you a prettier romance than ever you did find in _The Chyrurgien's Mate_ or old Galen's _Art of Physick_, that once I found you with--or even the _Whole Duty of Man_, which I swear you have not read."

"Yes, I have. But the story, Dr. Carroll! Was't the news you had for my ears?"

"Even so, mistress. Now--careful with the body. We mustn't spill this--where's your filter? That's it. A slow evaporation will be best. Can you fix the other end? Good! You have a deft hand.

"Well, now, the tale runs this wise. You heard me say that I was at the piers when the _Baltimore_ came in this morning. I'm half-owner in her, and, besides that, Croft is a very good friend of mine, and 'tis four months since he sailed from here. He--the captain, Debby--came off from the ship in his boat, looking a bit tired and haggard, and more glad to get home again than ever I saw him before. They'd a nasty voyage, been short of water for a week, and, besides that, he had a tale to tell about one of his passengers. At Portsmouth only four came on board, one of them a young fellow, a Frenchman, known to Lord Baltimore, who commended him to the care of Croft. It appears that the young man is of the nobility and high up in Court society at his home--Paris, I suppose. But, for some reason unknown, he packed himself on board the _Baltimore_ and sailed for a place certainly far enough away from his friends and his people, whoever they are. Croft says that it can't be an unlawful thing he's done to make him come away, for the Lord Proprietary himself came down to the ship with him and tried to persuade him to give up the idea of coming. I suggested to Croft that, if it were not outlawry, love were the thing to send a man flying like a fool from civilization; and Croft vows I hit it. This noble Marquis de something-or-other, Croft said, mooned about the ship like a soul in purgatory for the first weeks out, and thereupon he fell sick in good earnest. It seems he's been in a raving fever now for days past, sometimes delirious, sometimes in coma. He's talked overmuch, from what I can hear, about Lewis, the French King, and a lot of madames, and a Henry--his rival, perhaps--and I don't know what all.--See, there's the first vapor. Now 'twill be just right.--Well, Croft said he must see this man safe off his hands and in some place where he could be cared for, before he'd make report of the voyage. So, Debby, I sent a black up to the ordinary of Mrs. Miriam Vawse, and she came down herself to the wharf, just as they got the man ashore--de Mailly, his name is. By the great Plutarch, Deb, he's the man for us! Never have I seen a creature in such condition! I think he must have been well enough looking once. But now!--He's a skeleton from fever. His face is shrunken and as bright as a hunting-coat. His hair--'tis long and black--tangled into a mat; and his clothes, of excellent make they are, hang about him like bags. He was conscious when he landed, but I didn't hear him speak a single time as we drove him up the hill and to the ordinary, where Mrs. Miriam is to care for him.

"Now, Deborah, here's my part of the tale for you. To-morrow, when you come in town for the sale, after you dine with us at noon, I shall manage so that you go down to the Vawse house and yourself see this fellow, judge his symptoms, and administer this very stuff--that is coming out fine and clear now--to him, in your own way. 'Twill be the best practice you could have; you could scarce make the man worse; and 'twould be a grand thing, eh, Deb, to accomplish such a cure as that?--My faith, you'll be having me return to the profession in a year more! But hang me if I'd not be found a better practitioner--with your assistance--than Richards, dispenser of poisons that he is!"

"And so are we, Dr. Carroll," returned Deborah, soberly, as she carefully watched the process of evaporation in the retort. "Indeed, I think that I like better knowing the things that will kill than those that will cure."

"Bloodthirsty maiden--don't you know 'tis all the same thing?--And how d'you like my plan?"

"I think, sir, that madam never would permit it. 'Twould be a most highly improper thing."

"Nonsense--nonsense. If you were my own maid, you should certainly do it. I'll manage. Trust me--that is, if you care for it. Are you indifferent?"

Deborah was silent for a long moment. Then she sighed. "I'm not indifferent. And--and I'd dearly like to see a gentleman from Court--even though it were only from the French Court."

"_Only_ the French Court! Why, child, 'tis the greatest in the world--for courtiers and gayety. What more would you have?"

Deborah had no time to make answer, for at that moment one of the house-slaves came to the open door of the still-room.

"Beg pa'don, Mist' Cawlve't sen't' say the ho'ses a'e ready, an' does doctah want dinne' at Mist' King's, o' is he goin' eat Miss Deb's dis--dis--something I done fo'got what."

Carroll laughed. "Troth, Debby, Mistress Lucy must have been less entertaining than usual this morning. I must go, I suppose.--Can you finish this alone? You seem to know all the processes."

"Yes, I can finish it in an hour, if madam lets me stay here."

"I'll try to see that she does. Will you bring the _aconitum_ to-morrow, then?"

"Yes." Deborah smiled and courtesied.

The doctor bent over and kissed her hand with affectionate gallantry. "Good-morning, Hygeia."

"Good-bye, sir."

"Till to-morrow. At the French Court, I believe, they say 'au revoir,'" he added, mischievously, while the girl smiled. Then Carroll strode off, with David at his heels, leaving Deborah alone at her favorite occupation, wondering a little, in an absent-minded way, over the unusual event that her somewhat eccentric mentor proposed to bring into her life.

Mr. Benedict Calvert, with the Trevor family clustered about him, stood, riding-whip in hand, in the portico of the manor, in front of which, on the driveway which curved out towards the river, were the two horses, Carroll's and his, held by one of the stable-boys. Mr. Calvert was laughing and talking blandly with Lucy and Sir Charles; but madam, with her elder daughter ami Vincent, stood a little to one side, and annoyance was very plainly readable in the face of the mistress of the house. The doctor, with a cheery smile, came briskly round the corner of the east wing. It took but one glance to tell him who had really called him from the still-room.

"Most puissant Lord Commissioner, behold me here at your command!" he cried, approaching his companion.

"A--Deborah is not with you?" observed Madam Antoinette rather uselessly.

"No. Shall I call her? I left her in the preparation of a little matter which I had requested of her. Pardon me. I did not know that I was taking her from--" he made as if to go after her, when Vincent interposed.

"Don't trouble, doctor. She will be only too glad to finish what you asked. Afterwards there will be time enough for the spinning, or the weaving, or whatever is necessary."

Carroll thanked the young man with a little glance, and began at once making his farewells. He perceived that the time for introducing the project of Deborah's visit on the morrow was eminently unpropitious. Mr. Calvert made graceful adieux to the ladies, lightly saluted the master of the house and the Governor's lieutenant, and leaped upon his animal. A moment more and the two were cantering away, side by side, still looking back to the portico. When they were at length hidden by the bend in the road, Madam Trevor turned to the two girls.

"Virginia and Lucy, go you both and overlook your wardrobes and the linen in the press, and think out what is needed that we may buy at the sale to-morrow. Deborah may help you when she comes in. Charles, you ride to town, do you not? And, Vincent, I would have a moment with you before you go to the fields."

The little party dispersed as it was bid, Vincent following his mother into the house and to the west passage, where hung her garden hat, her lace mittens, her basket, and her pruning-knife. Thus accoutred, she led the way through the breakfast-room and out upon the terrace that overlooked the fairest spot in Madam Trevor's world--her garden. Here she paused, her eyes wandering for a moment over the scene about them, before she turned to her son.

"I wanted to speak to you, Vincent, of the sailing of the _Baltimore_. Within two or three weeks she will be going out again, 'tis likely."

"True. And what has that to do with us?" inquired the young man in some perplexity.

His mother sighed. "Vincent, I confess to anxiety. You are aware, I think, of the reason of Charles Fairfield's colonial appointment? You know why he sailed with you in the autumn when you came home to us to take your father's place here? You know why he has made his home in our house instead of in Annapolis with the other aides?"

"Yes, I know," responded Trevor, shortly.

"Remember, Vincent, it was your father's wish, it is your uncle's, it is mine, that--we should all be brought a little closer to old England by Virginia's marriage with her cousin."

"And the sailing of the _Baltimore_?"

"I am going to send off my jewels, my wedding pearls, to have them remounted in London for Virginia. And when they come home--that should be in August--when they come home, you and Charles must come to an understanding about your sister. Remember, Vincent, as the head of the family, you have a place to fill. There are certain matters about which you cannot afford to be careless--matters of more importance than the tobacco crop, or the price of slaves. I wished to ask you this morning if, when we drive in town for the dock sale to-morrow, you will see Captain Croft about intrusting the pearls to his keeping."

"Certainly, madam, if you wish it. Shall I take them to-morrow to him?"

"No. Not till just before the ship's sailing. They are too valuable to leave in a captain's cottage. This is what I had to say, Vincent. Go, now, to your fields, if you wish."

Vincent bent over and kissed her hand. Then he started towards the house. After half a dozen steps he halted suddenly and looked back, as though he would have spoken. His mother, however, had descended the terrace steps and was already bending over her flowers. So, after a little pause, he turned about again and continued thoughtfully upon his way.