Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume

wonder madame could not let this be wasted on the plantations, when you and I and M. le Griseur know her own hair is getting thinner than she would wish a certain Colonel to guess. There! the pretty dear, what a baby she looks! I will tie her on a cowl, lest she should take cold on the river. See these rings. Did you Lady give no charge about them?” “I had forgot!” said the waiting-woman, confused; “she charged me to bring them back, old family jewels, she said, that must not be carried off to foreign parts; but I cannot, cannot do it. To rob that pretty creature in her sleep.” “Never fear. She’ll soon have a store much finer than these! You fool, I tell you she will not wake these six or eight hours. Afraid? There, I’ll do it! Ho! A ruby? A love-token, I wager; and what’s this? A carved Cupid. I could turn a pretty penny by that, when your lady finds it convenient, and her luck at play goes against her. Eh! is this a wedding-ring? Best take that off; Mr. Van Draagen might not understand it, you see. Here they are. Have you a patch-box handy for them in your pocket? Why what ails the woman? You may thank your stars there’s some one here with her wits about her! None of your whimpering, I say, her comes Captain Karen.” Two seafaring men here came up the garden path, the foremost small and dapper, with a ready address and astute countenance. “All right, Mother Darkness, is our consignment ready? Aye, aye! And the freight?” “This lady has it,” said Mrs. Darke, pointing to Loveday; “I have been telling her she need have no fears for her young kinswoman in your hands, Captain.” He swore a round oath to that effect, and looking at the sleeping maiden, again swore that she was the choicest piece of goods ever confided to him, and that he knew better than let such an article arrive damaged. Mr. Van Draagen ought to come down handsomely for such an extra fine sample; but in the meantime he accepted the rouleau of guineas that Loveday handed to him, the proceeds, as she told Mrs. Darke, of my Lady’s winnings last night at loo. All was ready. Poor Aurelia was swathed from head to foot in a large mantle, like the chrysalis whose name she bore, the two sailors took her up between them, carried her to their boat, and laid her along in the stern. Then they pushed off and rowed down the river. Loveday looked up and looked down, then sank on the steps, convulsed with grief, sobbing bitterly. “She said He could deliver her from the mouth of lions! And He has not,” she murmured under her breath, in utter misery and hopelessness. CHAPTER XXXIV. DOWN THE RIVER. The lioness, ye may move her To give o’er her prey, But ye’ll ne’er stop a lover, He will find out the way. Elizabeth Delavie and her little brother were standing in the bay window of their hotel, gazing eagerly along the street in hopes of seeing the Major return, when Sir Amyas was seen riding hastily up on his charger, in full accoutrements, with a soldier following. In another moment he had dashed up stairs, and saying, “Sister, read that!” put into Betty’s hand a slip of paper on which was written in pencil-- “If Sir A. B. would not have his true love kidnapped to the plantations, he had best keep watch on the river gate of Mistress Darke’s garden at Greenwich. No time to lose.” “Who brought you this?” demanded Betty, as well as she could speak for horror. “My mother’s little negro boy, Syphax. He says Mrs. Loveday, her waiting-woman, gave it to him privately on the stairs, as she was about to get into a sedan, telling him I would give him a crown if he gave it me as I came off parade.” “Noon! Is there time?” “Barely, but there shall be time. There is no time to seek your father.” “No, but I must come with you.” “The water is the quickest way. There are stairs near. I’ll send my fellow to secure a boat.” “I will be ready instantly, while you tell your uncle. It might be better if he came.” Sir Amyas flew to his uncle’s door, but found him gone out, and, in too great haste to inquire further, came down again to find Betty in cloak and hood. He gave her his arm, and, Eugene trotting after them, they hurried to the nearest stairs, remembering in dire confirmation what Betty had heard from the school-girl. Both had heard reports that young women were sometimes thus deported to become wives to the planters in the southern colonies or the West Indies, but that such a destiny should be intended for their own Aurelia, and by Lady Belamour, was scarcely credible. Doubts rushed over Betty, but she remembered what the school-girl had said of the captive being sent beyond seas; and at any rate, she must risk the expedition being futile when such issues hung upon it. And if they failed to meet her father, she felt that her presence might prevail when the undefined rights of so mere a lad as her companion might be disregarded. His soldier servant had secured a boat, and they rapidly descended to the river; Sir Amyas silent between suspense, dismay and shame for his mother, and Betty trying to keep Eugene quiet by hurried answers to his eager questions about all he saw. They had to get out at London Bridge, and take a fresh boat on the other side, a much larger one, with two oarsmen, and a grizzled old coxswain, with a pleasant honest countenance, who presently relieved Betty of all necessity of attending to, or answering, Eugene’s chatter. “Do you know where this garden is?” said she, leaning across to Sir Amyas, who had engaged the boat to go to Greenwich. He started as if it were a new and sudden thought, and turning to the steersman demanded whether he knew Mrs. Darke’s garden. The old man gave a kind of grunt, and eyed the trio interrogatively, the young officer with his fresh, innocent, boyish face and brilliant undisguised uniform, the handsome child, the lady neither young, gay, nor beautiful, but unmistakeably a decorous gentlewoman. “Do you know Mrs. Darke’s?” repeated Sir Amyas. “Aye, do I? Mayhap I know more about the place than you do.” There was that about his face that moved Betty and the young man to look at one another, and the former said, “She has had to do with--evil doings?” “You may say that, ma’am.” “Then,” they cried in one breath, “you will help us!” And in a very few words Betty explained their fears for her young sister, and asked whether he thought the warning possible. “I’ve heard tell of such things!” said the old man between his teeth, “and Mother Darkness is one to do ‘em. Help you to bring back the poor young lass? That we will, if we have to break down the door with our fists. And who is this young spark? Her brother or her sweetheart?” “Her husband!” said Sir Amyas. “Her husband from whom she has been cruelly spirited away. Aid me to bring her back, my good fellow, and nothing would be too much to reward you.” “Aye, aye, captain, Jem Green’s not the man to see an English girl handed over to they slave-driving, outlandish chaps. But I say, I wish you’d got a cloak or summat to put over that scarlet and gold of yourn. It’s a regular flag to put the old witch on her guard.” On that summer’s day, however, no cloak was at hand. They went down the river very rapidly, for the tide was running out and at length Jem Green pointed out the neat little garden. On the step sat a woman, apparently weeping bitterly. Could it be the object of their search? No, but as they came nearer, and she was roused so as to catch sight of the scarlet coat, she beckoned and gesticulated with all her might; and as they approached Sir Amyas recognised her as his mother’s maid. “You will be in time yet,” she cried breathlessly. “Oh! take me in, or you won’t know the ship!” So eager and terrified was she, that but for the old steersman’s peremptory steadiness, her own life and theirs would have been in much peril, but she was safely seated at last, gasping out, “The _Red Cloud_, Captain Karen. They’ve been gone these ten minutes.” “Aye, aye,” gruffly responded Green, and the oars moved rapidly, while Loveday with another sob cried, “Oh! sir, I thought you would never come!” “You sent the warning?” Yes, sir, I knew nothing till the morning, when my Lady called me up. I lie in her room, you know. She had given orders, and I was to take the sweet lady and go down the river with her to Mrs. Darke, the perfuming woman my Lady has dealings with about here hair and complexion. There I was to stay with her till--till this same sea-captain was to come and carry her off where she would give no more trouble. Oh, sir, it was too much--and my Lady knew it, for she had tied my hands so that I had but a moment to scribble down that scrip, and bid Syphax take it to you. The dear lady! she said, ‘her God could deliver her out of the mouth of the lion,’ and I could not believe it! I thought it too late!” “How can we thank you,” began Betty; but she was choked by intense anxiety, and Jem Green broke in with an inquiry where the ship was bound for. Loveday only had a general impression of the West Indies, and believed that the poor lady’s destined spouse was a tobacconist, and as the boat was soon among a forest of shipping where it could not proceed so fast, Green had to inquire of neighbouring mariners where the _Red Cloud_ was lying. “The _Red Cloud_, Karen, weighs anchor for Carolina at flood tide to-night. Shipper just going aboard,” they were told. Their speed had been so rapid that they were in time to see the boat alongside, and preparations being made to draw up some one or something on board. “Oh! that is she!” cried Loveday in great agitation. “They’ve drugged her. No harm done. She don’t know it. But it is she!” Sir Amyas, with a voice of thunder, called out, “Halt, villain,” at the same moment as Green shouted “Avast there, mate!” And their boat came dashing up alongside. “Yield me up that lady instantly, fellow!” cried Sir Amyas, with his sword half drawn. “And who are you, I should like to know,” returned Karen, coolly, “swaggering at an honest man taking his freight and passengers aboard?” “I’ll soon show you!” “Hush, sir,” said Green, who had caught sight of pistols and cutlasses, “let me speak a moment. Look you here, skipper, this young gentleman and lady have right on their side. This is her sister, and he is her husband. They are people of condition, as you see.” “All’s one to me on the broad seas.” “That may be,” said Green, “but you see you can’t weigh anchor these three hours or more; and what’s to hinder the young captain here from swearing against you before a magistrate, and getting your vessel searched, eh?” “I’ve no objection to hear reason if I’m spoke to reasonable,” said Karen, sulkily; “but I’ll not be bullied like a highwayman, when I’ve my consignment regularly made out, and the freight down in hand, square.” “You may keep your accursed passage-money and welcome,” cried Sir Amyas, “so you’ll only give me my wife!” “Show him the certificate,” whispered Betty. Sir Amyas had it ready, and he read it loud enough for all on the Thames to hear. Karen gave a sneering little laugh. “What’s that to me? My passenger here has her berth taken in the name of Ann Davis.” “Like enough,” said Loveday, “but you remember me, captain, and I swear that this poor young lady is what his Honour Sir Amyas say. He is a generous young gentleman, and will make it up to you if you are at any loss in the matter.” “A hundred times over!” exclaimed Amyas hotly. “Hardly that,” said Karen. “Van Draagen might have been good for a round hundred if he’d been pleased with the commission.” “I’ll give you and order--” began Sir Amyas. “What have you got about you, sir?” interrupted Karen. “I fancy hard cash better than your orders.”