The Entailed Hat; Or, Patty Cannon's Times
"Read it, if you will, or take this English shilling and post it."
Van Dorn shrank back, rejecting the money.
"Will you not buy it back, Hulda," he whispered, "with love?"
"Never."
"You may pay for this letter this night with your life or modesty!"
"You dare not kill me," Hulda said.
"You will see," said Van Dorn.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PACIFICATION.
Princess Anne had missed for several days some conspicuous citizens,
such as Daniel Custis and wife, Captain Phoebus, Levin Dennis, and the
free negro Samson--large components of a small town; but it had also
gained what everybody admitted to be the most beautiful woman in the
place except Mrs. Vesta Milburn--the brown-eyed, tall, roguish niece of
Meshach Milburn, whom Vesta had made a lady of in externals, corrected
some of her faults, such as the sniffle, and was daily teaching her the
mysteries of grammar and address, aided by the rector of the parish,
whose heart was roused to partial animation again by the young visitor.
Loyally William Tilghman had pressed his friendship on Vesta's
semi-social husband, determined to like him, and finding small
resistance there, and, happily, no suspicion; and this was so grateful
to Vesta that she indulged the hope that her cousin and late lover would
find compensation for her loss in Rhoda Holland.
Love came easily on as a topic of talk where Rhoda, with her
unconventional preference for that subject, introduced it.
"Mr. William"--she had got that far towards the inevitable
"William"--said Rhoda, one evening at Teackle Hall, as they sat in the
library, "do preachers love jus' like other folks? Misc Somers say they
is drea'fle sly-boots. She say thar was a preacher down yer to Girdle
Tree Hill that preached the Meal-an-the-Yum was a-goin' to happen right
off."
"Millennium," suggested Tilghman.
"Maybe so. Misc Somers call it 'the Meal-an-the-Yum,' I thought. Anyway,
they was all goin' to rise, right off, an' he with 'em. Lord sakes! they
had frills put on thar night-gowns to rise in. An' the night before they
was a-goin' up, that ar scamp run away with a widder an' her darter,
jilted the widder an' married the darter; an' they couldn't rise at
Girdle Tree Hill caze the preacher wa'n't thar, an' they didn't know
when."
"And I suppose Mrs. Somers tells it on him?" William Tilghman added.
"That she do. Now, was you ever in love, Mr. William?"
"I have been thinking, Rhoda, that when you are a good scholar, and
grandmother and you grow to like each other, as I believe you will, I
might fall in love with you."
"Lord sakes! Me loved by a preacher? Couldn't I never stay home from the
preachin'? But then, to hear your own ole man a-barkin' away at the
other gals, I think it would be right good!"
The subject had now gone to that length that in a few days, to
Grandmother Tilghman's slight indignation, Rhoda called the rector
"William," and he answered her, "Dear Rhoda."
The triple widow, however, had one lane to her consideration, up which
the artful Rhoda strayed as soon as she saw the gate ajar.
"Misc Tilghman," she said one day, "I been a-lookin' at you. I 'spect
you was a real beauty. If you wasn't a little quar, nobody would see you
was a ole woman now."
"I was a belle," spoke the blind old lady, emphatically. "General John
Eager Howard said he would rather talk with me than hear an oration from
Fisher Ames. Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, proposed to me when I was
old enough to be your grandmother, and after Susan Decatur, the
commodore's widow, had tried in vain to get an offer from him. Said I,
'Carroll, is this another Declaration of Independence? No,' said I,
'Carroll, I won't reduce the last signer, it may be, to obedience on a
wife going blind. That would be worse slavery than George the Third's!'
He said I was a Spartan widow."
"Every widow I ever see was a sparkin' widow," Rhoda naively concluded,
at which Mrs. Tilghman had to join in the laughter, and there was no
evil feeling.
Jack Wonnell now held the temporary post of cook and woodchopper at
Teackle Hall, and Roxy saw him every day, sewed his tattered clothing
up, put the germs of self-respect in him, and caused Vesta to say to her
husband, as they were sitting in his storehouse parlor one afternoon, in
the intermission of his chill and sweat:
"Such rapid changes have taken place here, Mr. Milburn, that they have
disturbed my judgment, and now I hardly know whether my oldest prejudice
is assured, as I see that white man the happy domestic servant of my
pure slave girl. She seems to have no greater affection than pity and
interest for him, while he is made more of a man by his undisguised
devotion to her. No man could work better than he does now."
"Love is so great, so occult," the husband said, his brown eyes
searching his wife's face over, "that its combinations have centuries
left to run before they shall beat every prejudice down, and prove, in
spite of sin and dispersion, that of one blood are all the nations
made."[4]
CHAPTER XXIX.
BEGINNING OF THE RAID.
The raid into Delaware was all organized when Levin and Hulda were
driven to Johnson's tavern, and the arrival of Van Dorn called forth
cheers and yells, as that blushing worthy threw his trim, athletic
figure out of the wagon and bowed to Joe Johnson, on the tavern porch:
"_O hala hala!_ do you go, son-in-law?"
"I'll ride with ye, Captain, a split of the Maryland way, but sprat for
that Delaware! I'll go in it no more. I'll stand whack with you,
however, fur the madges I give you and fur my stalling ken."
"_Quedito!_" lisped Van Dorn; "we never leave your interests out,
son-in-law. How is Aunt Patty?"
"She's made a punch fur the population, an' calls fur young Levin thar
to lush with her."
"I'll take mine along," Levin cried, "an' drink it in the chill o' the
night."
"No," commanded the voice of Patty Cannon; "it's a-waitin' fur you, son:
a good stiff bowl of apple and sugar. Him as misses his drinks yer we
sets no account on."
As Van Dorn and Levin pushed through the motley crowd on the little
porch into the bar, where Mrs. Cannon administered, she set before them
two fiery bowls, and cried:
"Come in yer, Colonel McLane, an' jine my nug an' my young cousin
Levin."
"No, Patty," answered a voice from the next room within; "I've drunk my
share. There's nothing like a conservative course."
As Patty put her head into this inner room, Levin Dennis, seeing a
window open at his elbow, threw the whole of his liquor over his
shoulder into the yard and smacked his lips heartily, saying,
"Good!"
"Ha!" exclaimed Van Dorn, evidently noticing Levin's deceit; "smart
people are around us, Patty. Beware!"
He took from his pocket the fateful letter and glanced at its
endorsement, and, as he did so, Levin heard an exclamation in the yard
from a man who had received the whole of the apple brandy and sugar in
his face, and was furious; but as soon as he seemed to recognize the
thrower he muttered, apologetically:
"Hokey-pokey! By smoke! and Pangymonum, too!"
When Levin looked at Van Dorn again, the blush was on his face, but the
letter had disappeared.
"Beware of the conservative course, Colonel," lisped Van Dorn, "except
when generous Patty makes the punch; for she holds such measure of it
that she does not see our infirmities."
"Honey," cried Patty Cannon to Levin, giving him an affectionate hug,
"have ye swallered yer liquor so smart as that? Why, I love to see a
nice boy drink."
"But no more for him now, _cajela_," the Captain protested; "two such
will make him fall off his horse. _Bebamos_, Patty! _Esta
excelente!_"--drinking.
"How purty the Captain says them things," the madam cried to the
gentleman within. "Maybe he's a mockin' his ole sweetheart. Oh, Van
Dorn, if I thought you could forget me I would kill you!"
Levin noticed the rapid temper and demoniac face of this not unengaging
lady as she spoke, her whole nature turning its course like a wheeling
bat, and from plausibility to an instant's jealousy, and then to a dark
tide of awful rage, took but a thought.
"_Que disparate! hala o he!_" Van Dorn lisped, sweetly, chucking the
hostess under the chin; "but I do love to see thee so, thou charmer of
my life. Never will I desert thee, Patty, whilst thou can suffer."
Her dark clouds slowly passed away as Levin turned from the place, but
her small head and abundant raven hair showed the blood troubled to the
roots, and the eyes, once rich with midnight depths, now glazing in the
course of time, like old window panes, by age, searched the bandit's
face with a strange fear:
"Van Dorn, time and pleasure cannot kill you: how well you look to-day.
I think you are a boy, to be ruined again every time you love me, you
blush so modestly. Where is that pot of color you paint your cheeks with
even before _me_, whose blushes none can recollect? Why do you love me?"
"_O dios!_" said Van Dorn; "I love thee for these spells of splendor,
dark night and noonday passion, the alternations of earth and hell that
eclipse heaven altogether. I love to see thee fear, though fearing
nothing here, because I see nothing that you fear beyond the grave. You
hate this boy?"
"I hate him worse than wrinkles. Let him not come to me a child
to-morrow; let him see ghosts long as he lives."
"How are the prisoners, Patty?"
"Why, the white nigger, dovey, is sick to-day; blood-loss and blisters
have give him fever. My nigger, that I tied--ha! ha! a good job for
Patty Cannon, at her age!--says t'other's a pore coaster named Jimmy
Phoebus."
"Joe must be ready for a quick departure," the Captain exclaimed, "when
we come back from Dover: it is a bold undertaking, and the whole of the
little state will be aroused like a black snake uncoiling in one's
pocket."
The woman pointed from her shoulder towards the inner room, and spoke
even lower than before:
"Van Dorn, I have a customer."
"For negroes?"
"No, for Huldy. He shall have her."
* * * * *
As Levin Dennis stood at the cross-roads without, he saw a strange man
ploughing in the farm so recently deserted by his hostess for the gayer
cross-roads. The afternoon light fell on the sandy fields and struck a
polish from the ploughshare, and, as the ploughman passed the brambly
spot again, the buzzards slowly circled up, as if to protest that he
came too near their young.
The long, lean servant, who had waited on the breakfast-table, came out
to Levin and watched his eyes.
"Ploughin', ploughin'," he said. "Levin, I kin show you how to plough: I
can't do it, but you're the man."
"Cyrus, Huldy don't hate you. She says you're the nighest to a friend
she's got."
"Oh, I love her like sugar-cane," the lean, cymlin-headed servant said.
"Tell her I'm goin' to be a great man. I'm goin' to spile the game. They
lick me, but Cy Jeems has courage, Levin."
"Cyrus, tell Huldy all that's goin' on agin her. We don't know nothin'.
You kin go and come an' nobody watches you. Huldy will be grateful fur
it."
Putting his long arms on his knees and bending down, the scullion stared
close to Levin's eyes and whispered, looking towards the field:
"Ploughin'! ploughin'!"
Then, turning partly, and gazing over the old tavern with a look of
wisdom, Cy James whispered again:
"Hokey-pokey! By smoke! an' Pangymonum, too!"
"I reckon he's crazy," Levin thought, as the queer fellow turned and
fled.
It was about three o'clock when the cavalcade was reviewed by Captain
Van Dorn from the porch of the hotel, and it consisted of about twenty
persons, white and black; some riding mules, some horses, and there was
one wagon in the line--the same that had been driven to Cannon's