butneitherfarewellnorgreetingperturbedthecheerfultown.Toandfrothrough PalaceandNicholsonandDukeofGloucesterstreetswereblownthegayleaves; of early mornings white frosts lay upon the earth like fairy snows, but midday and afternoon were warm and bright. Mistress Stagg's garden lay to the south, andinshelteredcornersbloomedmarigoldsandasters,whileavine,red-leafed andpurple-berried,madeasplendidmantlefortheplayhousewall. Withinthetheatrearehearsal of"Tamerlane"wasinprogress.TurkandTartar spoketheirminds,andArpasia'sdeathcryclavetheair.ThevictoriousEmperor passed final sentence upon Bajazet; then, chancing to glance toward the wide door, suddenly abdicated his throne, and in the character of Mr. Charles Stagg blew a kiss to his wife, who, applauding softly, stood in the opening that was framedbytheredvine. "Haveyoudone,mydear?"shecried."Thenpraycomewithmeamoment!" The two crossed the garden, and entered the grape arbor where in September Mistress Stagg had entertained her old friend, my Lady Squander's sometime waiting-maid. Now the vines were bare of leaves, and the sunshine streaming throughlayinafloodupontheearth.MaryStagg'schairwassetinthatgolden warmth,anduponthegroundbesideithadfallensomebrightsewing.Thesilken stufftouchedacoarsercloth,andthatwastheskirtofDarden'sAudrey,whosat upon the ground asleep, with her arm across the chair, and her head upon her arm. "Howcameshehere?"demandedMr.Staggatlast,whenhehadgivenatragedy start,foldedhisarms,andbenthisbrows. "Sheranaway,"answeredMistressStagg,inalowvoice,drawingherspouseto a little distance from the sleeping figure. "She ran away from the glebe house andwentuptheriver,wanting—theLordknowswhy!—toreachthemountains. Somethinghappenedtobringhertohersenses,andsheturnedback,andfalling inwiththattrader,JeanHugon,hebroughthertoJamestowninhiscanoe.She walked from there to the glebe house,—that was yesterday. The minister was away,andDeborah,beinginoneofherpassions,wouldnotletherin.She'sthat hard,isDeborah,whenshe'sangry,harderthanthenethermillstone!Thegirllay inthewoodslastnight.IvowI'llneverspeakagaintoDeborah,notthoughthere weretwentyBathsbehindus!"MistressStagg'svoicebegantotremble."Iwas sittingsewinginthatchair,nowlisteningtoyourvoicesinthetheatre,andnow harking back in my mind to old days when we weren't prosperous like we are
now.... And at last I got to thinking of the babe, Charles, and how, if she had livedandgrownup,Imightha'sattheresewingaprettygownformyownchild, and how happy I would have made her. I tried to see her standing beside me, laughing,prettyasarose,waitingformetotakethelaststitch.Itgotsorealthat IraisedmyheadtotellmydeadchildhowIwasgoingtoknotherribbons,... andtherewasthisgirllookingatme!" "What,Millamant!atear,mysoul?"criedthetheatricMr.Stagg. Millamantwipedawaythetear."I'lltellyouwhatshesaid.Shejustsaid:'You werekindtomewhenIwasherebefore,butifyoutellmetogoawayI'llgo. Youneednotsayitloudly.'Andthenshealmostfell,andIputoutmyarmand caughther;andpresentlyshewasonherkneestherebesideme,withherheadin mylap....Andthenwetalkedtogetherforawhile.Itwasmostlyme—shedidn't saymuch—but,Charles,thegirl'sdonenowrong,nomorethanourchildthat's deadandinChrist'sbosom.Shewassotiredandworn.Igotsomemilkandgave ittoher,anddirectlyshewenttosleeplikeababy,withherheadonmyknee." Thetwowentcloser,andlookeddownupontheslenderformandstill,darkface. Thesleeper'srestwasdeep.Atressofhair,fallenfromitsfastening,swepther cheek; Mistress Stagg, stooping, put it in place behind the small ear, then straightenedherselfandpressedherMirabell'sarm. "Well, my love," quoth that gentleman, clearing his throat. "'Great minds, like Heaven,arepleasedindoinggood.'MyMillamant,declareyourthoughts!" Mistress Stagg twisted her apron hem between thumb and finger. "She's more than eighteen, Charles, and anyhow, if I understand it rightly, she was never really bound to Darden. The law has no hold on her, for neither vestry nor Orphan Court had anything to do with placing her with Darden and Deborah. She'sfreetostay." "Freetostay?"queriedCharles,andtookaprodigiouspinchofsnuff."Tostay withus?" "Whynot?"askedhiswife,andstoleapersuasivehandintothatofherhelpmate. "Oh,Charles,myheartwentouttoher!Imadehersobeautifulonce,andIcould doitagainandallthetime.Don'tyouthinkherprettierthanwasJaneDay?And she'sgraceful,andthatquicktolearn!You'resuchateacher,Charles,andIknow she'ddoherbest....Perhaps,afterall,therewouldbenoneedtosendawayto BristolforonetotakeJane'splace."
"H'm!" said the great man thoughtfully, and bit a curl of Tamerlane's vast periwig."'TistrueIesteemhernodullard,"heatlastvouchsafed;"truealsothat shehathbeauty.Infine,solelytogivetheepleasure,myMillamant,Iwillgive thegirlatrialnolaterthanthisveryafternoon." Audrey stirred in her sleep, spoke Haward's name, and sank again to rest. Mr. Stagg took a second pinch of snuff. "There's the scandal, my love. His Excellency the Governor's ball, Mr. Eliot's sermon, Mr. Marmaduke Haward's illnessandsubsequentduelswithMr.EverardandMr.Travis,areinnodanger ofbeingforgotten.Ifthisgirlevercomestothespeakingofanepilogue,there'll beinWilliamsburghaninedays'wonderindeed!" "Thewonderwouldnothurt,"saidMistressStaggsimply. "Farfromit,mydear,"agreedMr.Stagg,andclosinghissnuffbox,wentwitha thoughtfulbrowbacktotheplayhouseandtheTartarcamp.
Mistress Truelove Taberer, having read in a very clear and gentle voice the SermonontheMounttothoseplacidFriends,TobiasandMarthaTaberer,closed thebook,andwentaboutherhouseholdaffairswithaquietstep,butaheartthat somehowflutteredateverysoundwithoutthedoor.Tostillitshebegantorepeat to herself words she had read: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be calledthechildrenofGod...blessedarethepeacemakers"— Wintersunshinepouredinatthewindowsanddoor.Truelove,kneelingtowipea fleckofdustfromherwheel,suddenly,withacatchofherbreathandaliftingof her brown eyes, saw in the Scripture she had been repeating a meaning and application hitherto unexpected. "The peacemaker ... that is one who makes peace,—in the world, between countries, in families, yea, in the heart of one alone. Did he not say, last time he came, that with me he forgot this naughty worldandallitsstrife;thatifIwerealwayswithhim"— Truelove'scountenancebecameexalted,hergazefixed."Ifitwereacall"—she murmured, and for a moment bowed her head upon the wheel; then rose from herkneesandwentsoftlythroughthemorningtasks.Whentheywereover,she tookdownfromapegandputonalonggraycloakandagrayhoodthatmost becomingly framed her wild-rose face; then came and stood before her father andmother."Iamgoingforthtowalkbythecreekside,"shesaid,inhersweet voice."ItmaybethatIwillmeetAngusMacLean." "Iftheedoes,"answeredonetranquilFriend,"theemaytellhimthatuponnext seventhdaymeetingwillbeheldinthishouse." "Truly," said the other tranquil Friend, "my heart is drawn toward that young man.Hismindhathbeenfilledwithangerandresistanceandtheturmoilofthe world.Itwerewellifhefoundpeaceatlast." "Surely it were well," agreed Truelove sweetly, and went out into the crisp winterweather. The holly, the pine, and the cedar made green places in the woods, and the
multitudeofleavesunderfootwerepleasanttotread.Cloudswereinthesky,but thespacesbetweenwereofserenestblue,andinthesunshinethecreekflashed diamonds.Truelovestooduponthebank,and,withherhandshadinghereyes, watchedMacLeanrowingtowardherupthecreek. Whenhehadfastenedhisboatandtakenherhand,thetwowalkedsoberlyon beside thesparkling wateruntiltheycame toa rudeseatbuiltbeneathanoaktree,towhichyetclunganumberofbrownleaves.Truelovesatdown,drawing hercloakabouther,for,thoughthesunshone,theairwaskeen.MacLeantook off his coat, and kneeling put it beneath her feet. He laughed at her protest. "Why,thesewindsarenotbleak!"hesaid."Thislandknowsnotrueandhonest cold.Inmycountry,nightafternighthaveIlaininsnowwithonlymyplaidfor cover, and heard the spirits call in the icy wind, the kelpie shriek beneaththe frozenloch.Ilistened;thenshutmyeyesanddreamedwarmofgloryand—true love." "Thycoatisnew,"saidTruelove,withdowncasteyes."Theearthwillstainthe goodcloth." MacLeanlaughed."ThenwillIwearitstained,as'tissaidacourtieroncewore hiscloak." "Thereislaceuponit,"saidTruelovetimidly. MacLeanturnedwithasmile,andlaidafoldofhercloakagainsthisdarkcheek. "Ah,thelaceoffendsyou,—offendsthee,—Truelove.Why,'tisbuttomarkmea gentlemanagain!Lastnight,atWilliamsburgh,IsuppedwithHawardandsome gentlemenofVirginia.Hewouldhavemedonthissuit.Imightnotdisobligemy friend." "Theelovesit,"saidTrueloveseverely."Theelovesthecolor,andthefeelofthe finecloth,andtherufflesatthywrists." The Highlander laughed. "Why, suppose that I do! Look, Truelove, how brave and red are those holly berries, and how green and fantastically twisted the leaves!Theskyisabrightblue,andthecloudsaresilver;andthinkwhatthese woodswillbewhenthewinterispast!Onemightdoworse,meseems,thantobe ofGod'stasteinsuchmatters." Truelovesighed,anddrewhergraycloakmorecloselyaroundher. "Theeisinspiritsto-day,AngusMacLean,"shesaid,andsighedoncemore.
"Iamfree,"heanswered."Themanwithinmewalksnolongerwithahanging head." "Andwhatwilltheedowiththyfreedom?" TheHighlandermadenoimmediatereply,but,chininhand,studiedthedriftsof leavesandtheslow-movingwater."Iamfree,"hesaidatlast."Iwearto-daythe dress of a gentleman. I could walk without shame into a hall that I know, and findtherestrangers,standersindeadmen'sshoon,brotherswhowantmenot,— who would say behind their hands, 'He has been twelve years a slave, and the worldhaschangedsincehewentaway!'...Iwillnottroublethem." HisfacewasassombreaswhenTruelovefirstbeheldit.Suddenly,andagainst her will, tears came to her eyes. "I am glad—I and my father and mother and Ephraim—thattheegoesnotoverseas,AngusMacLean,"saidthedove'svoice. "We would have thee—I and my father and mother and Ephraim—we would havetheestayinVirginia." "I am to stay," he answered. "I have felt no shame in taking a loan from my friend,forIshallrepayit.Hehathlandsupriverinanew-madecounty.Iamto seatthemforhim,andtherewillbemyhome.Iwillbuildahouseandnameit Duart;andiftherearehillstheyshallbeDun-da-guandGrieg,andthesoundof wintertorrentsshallbetomeasthesoundofthewatersofMull." Truelovecaughtherbreath."Theewillbelonelyinthoseforests." "Iamusedtoloneliness." "There be Indians on the frontier. They burn houses and carry away prisoners. Andtherearewolvesanddangerousbeasts"— "Iamusedtodanger." Truelove'svoicetrembledmoreandmore."Andtheemustdwellamongnegroes andrudemen,withnonetocomfortthysoul,nonetowhomtheecanspeakin thydarkhours?" "BeforenowIhavespokentothetobaccoIhaveplanted,thetreesIhavefelled, theswordsandmusketsIhavesold." "Butatlasttheecameandspoketome!" "Ay,"heanswered."Therehavebeentimeswhenyousavedmysoulalive.Now,
intheforest,inmyhouseoflogs,whentheday'sworkisdone,andIsituponmy doorstepandbegintohearthevoicesofthepastcryingtomelikethespiritsin thevalleyofGlensyte,Iwillthinkofyouinstead." "Oh!" cried Truelove. "Speak to me instead, and I will speak to thee ... sitting uponthedoorstepofourhouse,whenourday'sworkisdone!" Her hood falling back showed her face, clear pink, with dewy eyes. The carnationdeepeningfrombrowtothroat,andthetearstremblinguponherlong lashes, she suddenly hid her countenance in her gray cloak. MacLean, on his kneesbesideher,drewawaythefolds."Truelove,Truelove!doyouknowwhat youhavesaid?" Trueloveputherhanduponherheart."Oh,Ifear,"shewhispered,"IfearthatI haveaskedthee,AngusMacLean,toletmebe—toletmebe—thywife." The water shone, and the holly berries were gay, and a robin redbreast sang a cheerfulsong.Beneaththerustlingoak-treetherewasardentspeechonthepart of MacLean, who found in his mistress a listener sweet and shy, and not garrulous of love. But her eyes dwelt upon him and her hand rested at ease withinhisclasp,andshelikedtohearhimspeakofthehometheyweretomake in the wilderness. It was to be thus, and thus, and thus! With impassioned eloquence the Gael adorned the shrine and advanced the merit of the divinity, andthedivinitylistenedwithasmile,ablush,atear,andnowandthenameek rebuke. Whenanhourhadpassed,thesunwentunderacloudandtheairgrewcolder. Thebirdhadflownaway,butintherisingwindthedeadleavesrustledloudly. MacLeanandTruelove,leavingtheirfutureofhonorabletoil,peaceofmind,and enduringaffection,camebacktothepresent. "Imustaway,"saidtheHighlander."HawardwaitsformeatWilliamsburgh.Tomorrow,dearertomethanDeirdretoNaos!Iwillcomeagain." Handinhandthetwowalkedslowlytowardthathauntofpeace,Truelove'squiet home. "And Marmaduke Haward awaits thee at Williamsburgh?" said the Quakeress."LastthirddayhemetmyfatherandmeontheFairViewroad,and checkedhishorseandspoketous.Heischanged." "Changedindeed!"quoththeHighlander."Afireburnshim,awinddriveshim; andyettotheworld,lastnight"—Hepaused.
"Lastnight?"saidTruelove. "Hehadalarge companyatMarot'sordinary,"wentontheother."Therewere theGovernorandhisfellowCouncilors,withothersofconditionorfashion.He wastheveryfinegentleman,theperfecthost,free,smiling,fullofwit.ButIhad beenwithhimbeforetheycame.Iknewthefiresbeneath." Thetwowalkedinsilenceforafewmoments,whenMacLeanspokeagain:"He dranktoher.Atthelast,whenthisladyhadbeentoasted,andthat,heroseand drankto'Audrey,'andthrewhiswineglassoverhisshoulder.Hehathdonewhat he could. The world knows that he loves her honorably, seeks her vainly in marriage. Something more I know. He gathered the company together last evening that, as his guests, the highest officers, the finest gentlemen of the colony,shouldgowithhimtothetheatretoseeherforthefirsttimeasaplayer. Beingwhattheywere,andhisguests,andhispassionknown,hewouldinsure for her, did she well or did she ill, order, interest, decent applause." MacLean brokeoffwithashort,excitedlaugh."Itwasnotneeded,—hismediation.Buthe couldnotknowthat;no,nornoneofus.True,Staggandhiswifehadbraggedof thepowersofthisstrangelyfoundactressoftheirsthattheyweretrainingtodo great things, but folk took it for a trick of their trade. Oh, there was curiosity enough,but'twasonHaward'saccount....Well,hedranktoher,standingatthe headofthetableatMarot'sordinary,andtheglasscrashedoverhisshoulder,and weallwenttotheplay." "Yes, yes!" cried Truelove, breathing quickly, and quite forgetting how great a vanitywasunderdiscussion. "'Twas'Tamerlane,'theplaythatthistraitorousgenerationcallsforevery5thof November.ItseemsthattheGovernor—aWhigasrankasArgyle—hadordered itagainforthisweek.'TisacursedpieceofslanderthatpicturesthePrinceof OrangeavirtuousEmperor,hislateMajestyofFranceahatefultyrant.Butfor Haward,whoseguestIwas,Ihadnotsattherewithclosedlips.Ihadsprungto myfeetandgiventhoseflatterers,thosetraducers,thelie!Thethingtauntedand angereduntilsheentered.ThenIforgot." "Andshe—andAudrey?" "Arpasiawashernameintheplay.Sheenteredlate;herdeathcamebeforethe end;therewasanotherwomanwhohadmoretodo.Itallmatterednot,Ihave seenagreatactress."
"Darden'sAudrey!"saidTruelove,inawhisper. "That at the very first; not afterwards," answered MacLean. "She was dressed, theysay,asuponthenightatthePalace,thatfirstnightofHaward'sfever.When she came upon the stage, there was a murmur like the wind in the leaves. She wasmostbeautiful,—'beauteousinhatred,'astheSultanintheplaycalledher,— darkandwonderful,withangryeyes.Foralittlewhileshemuststandinsilence, andinthesemomentsmenandwomenstaredather,thenturnedandlookedat Haward.ButwhenshespokeweforgotthatshewasDarden'sAudrey." MacLeanlaughedagain."Whentheplaywasended,—orrather,whenherpartin it was done,—the house did shake so with applause that Stagg had to remonstrate.There'snaughttalkedofto-dayinWilliamsburghbutArpasia;and whenIcamedownPalaceStreetthismorning,therewasagreatcrowdaboutthe playhouse door. Stagg might sell his tickets for to-night at a guinea apiece. 'VenicePreserved'istheplay." "AndMarmadukeHaward,—whatofhim?"askedTruelovesoftly. "HeisEnglish,"saidMacLean,afterapause."Hecanmakeofhisfaceasmiling mask,cankeephisvoiceasevenandasstillasthepoolthatisamileawayfrom the fierce torrent its parent. It is a gift they have, the English. I remember at Preston"—Hebrokeoffwithasigh."Therewillbeanendsomeday,Isuppose. Hewillwinheratlasttohiswayofthinking;andhavinggainedher,hewillbe happy.Andyettomymindthereissomethingunfortunate,strangeandfatal,in theaspectofthisgirl.Ithathalwaysbeenso.SheissuchaoneastheLadyin Green.OnaHalloweennight,standinginthetwelfthrig,amanmighthearher voiceuponthewind.IwouldoldMurdochofColl,whohaththesecondsight, werehere:hecouldtelltheendingofitall." An hour later found the Highlander well upon his way to Williamsburgh, walkingthroughwoodandfieldwithhislongstride,hisheartwarmwithinhim, hismindfilledwiththethoughtofTrueloveandthehomethathewouldmake forherintherude,uprivercountry.Sincethetwohadsatbeneaththeoak,clouds had gathered, obscuring the sun. It was now gray and cold in the forest, and presentlysnowbegantofall,slowly,inlargeflakes,betweenthestilltrees. MacLeanlookedwithwhimsicalanxietyatseveralwhiteparticlesuponhissuit of fine cloth, claret-colored and silver-laced, and quickened his pace. But the snowwasbutthelazyvanguardofastorm,andsofewandharmlesswerethe flakesthatwhen,a,milefromWilliamsburghandatsomelittledistancefromthe
road,MacLeanbeheldaringoffiguresseatedupontheGounodbeneathagiant elm,hestoppedtoobservewhoandwhattheywerethatsatsostillbeneaththe leaflesstreeinthewinterweather. The group, that at first glimpse had seemed some conclave of beings uncouth andlubberlyandsolelyoftheforest,resolveditselfintotheIndianteacherand hispupils,escapedfortheafternoonfromtheboundsofWilliamandMary.The Indianlads—slender,bronze,andstatuesque—satinsilence,stolidlylisteningto thewordsofthewhiteman,who,standinginthemidstofthering,withhisback totheelm-tree,toldtohisduskychargesaBibletale.ItwasthestoryofJoseph andhisbrethren.Theclear,gentletonesoftheteacherreachedMacLean'sears wherehestoodunobservedbehindaroadsidegrowthofbayandcedar. A touch upon the shoulder made him turn, to find at his elbow that sometime pupilofMr.CharlesGriffininwhosecompanyhehadoncetrudgedfromFair ViewstoretoWilliamsburgh. "I was lying in the woods over there," said Hugon sullenly. "I heard them coming,andItookmyleave.'Peste!'saidI.'Theold,weakmanwhopreaches quietnessundermen'sinjuries,andtheyoungwolfpack,allbrown,withIndian names!' They may have the woods; for me, I go back to the town where I belong." Heshruggedhisshoulders,andstoodscowlingatthedistantgroup.MacLean,in histurn,lookedcuriouslyathisquondamcompanionofasunnydayinMay,the would-be assassin with whom he had struggled in wind and rain beneath the thundersofanAuguststorm.Thetraderworehisgreatwig,hisancientsteinkirk oftawdrylace,hishighbootsofSpanishleather,crackedandstained.Between thewavesofcoarsehair,outofcoal-black,deep-seteyeslookedthesoulofthe half-breed,fierce,vengeful,ignorant,andembittered. "ThereisMeshawa,"hesaid,—"Meshawa,whowasalittleboywhenIwentto school,butwhousedtolaughwhenItalkedofFrance.Pardieu!onedayIfound himalonewhenitwascold,andtherewasafireintheroom.NexttimeItalked hedidnotlaugh!Theyareall"—heswepthishandtowardthecirclebeneaththe elm—"they are all Saponies, Nottoways, Meherrins; their fathers are lovers of the peace pipe, and humble to the English. A Monacan is a great brave; he laughs at the Nottoways, and says that there are no men in the villages of the Meherrins." "Whendoyougoagaintotradewithyourpeople?"askedMacLean.
Hugon glanced at him out of the corners of his black eyes. "They are not my people;mypeopleareFrench.Iamnotgoingtothewoodsanymore.Iamso prosperous. Diable! shall not I as well as another stay at Williamsburgh, dress fine,dwellinanordinary,playhigh,anddrinkofthebest?" "There is none will prevent you," said MacLean coolly. "Dwell in town, take youreaseinyourinn,weargoldlace,staketheskinsofallthedeerinVirginia, drinkBurgundyandChampagne,butlaynomorearrowsathwartthethreshold ofagentleman'sdoor." Hugon'slipstwitchedintoatigerishgrimace."Sohefoundthearrow?Mortdieu! lethimlooktoitthatonedaythearrowfindnothim!" "IfIwereHaward,"saidMacLean,"Iwouldhaveyoutakenup." The trader again looked sideways at the speaker, shrugged his shoulders and wavedhishand."Oh,he—hedespisesmetoomuchforthat!Ehbien!to-dayI lovetoseehimlive.Whenthereisnowineinthecup,butonlydregsthatare bitter, I laugh to see it at his lips. She,—Ma'm'selle Audrey, that never before couldIcoaxintomyboat,—shereachedmeherhand,shecamewithmedown theriver,throughthenight-time,andlefthimbehindatWestover.Ha!thinkyou notthatwasbitter,thatdrinkwhichshegavehim,Mr.MarmadukeHawardof FairView?Sincethen,ifIgotothathouse,thatgardenatWilliamsburgh,she hides,shewillnotseeme;themanandhiswifemakeexcuse!Bad!Butalsohe seeshernever.Hewritestoher:sheanswersnot.Good!Lethimlive,withthe firebuiltaroundhimandthesplintersinhisheart!" He laughed again, and, dismissing the subject with airiness somewhat exaggerated, drew out his huge gilt snuffbox. The snow was now falling more thickly,drawingawhiteandfleecyveilbetweenthetwoupontheroadandthe story-teller and his audience beneath the distant elm. "Are you for Williamsburgh?" demanded the Highlander, when he had somewhat abruptly declinedtotakesnuffwithMonsieurJeanHugon. Thatworthynodded,pocketinghisboxandincidentallymakingagreatjingling ofcoins. "Then,"quothMacLean,"sinceIprefertotravelalone,twillwaithereuntilyou havepassedtherolling-houseinthedistanceyonder.Good-daytoyou!" Heseatedhimselfuponthestumpofatree,and,givingallhisattentiontothe
snow,begantowhistleathoughtfulair.Hugonglancedathimwithfierceblack eyes and twitching lips, much desiring a quarrel; then thought better of it, and before the tune had come to an end was making with his long and noiseless stridehislonelywaytoWilliamsburgh,andtheordinaryinNicholsonStreet.
About this time, Mr. Charles Stagg, of the Williamsburgh theatre in Virginia, sent by the Horn of Plenty, bound for London, a long letter to an ancient comrade andplayerofsmall partsatDruryLane.Afewdayslater,young Mr. Lee,writingbytheGoldenLucytoanagreeablerakeofhisacquaintance,burst into a five-page panegyric upon the Arpasia, the Belvidera, the Monimia, who had so marvelously dawned upon the colonial horizon. The recipient of this communication,beingafrequenterofButton's,andchancingonedaytocracka bottle there with Mr. Colley Cibber, drew from his pocket and read to that gentlemantheeulogyofDarden'sAudrey,withtheremarkthatthewriterwasan Oxfordmanandmustknowwhereofhewrote. Cibber borrowed the letter, and the next day, in the company of Wilks and a bottle of Burgundy, compared it with that of Mr. Charles Stagg,—the latter's correspondenthavingalsobroughtthemattertothegreatman'snotice. "She might offset that pretty jade Fenton at the Fields, eh, Bob?" said Cibber. "They'reofanage.Ifthetowntooktoher"— "IfherBelvideramadeoneprettyfellowweep,whynotanother?"addedWilks. "Here—where is't he says that, when she went out, for many moments the pit was silent as the grave—and that then the applause was deep—not shrill—and verylong?'Gad,if'tisaBarrycomeagain,andwecouldlayhandsonher,the housewouldbemade!" Gibber sighed. "You're dreaming, Bob," he said good-humoredly. "'Twas but a packofVirginiaplanters,noisyoversomebellesauvagewitharantingtongue." "Men'spassionsarethesame,Itakeit,inVirginiaasinLondon,"answeredthe other."Ifthebellesauvagecanmovetothatmannerofapplauseinonespotof earth,shemaydosoinanother.Andhereagainhesays,'Adarkbeauty,witha strange, alluring air ... a voice of melting sweetness that yet can so express anguish and fear that the blood turns cold and the heart is wrung to hear it'— Zoons, sir! What would it cost to buy off this fellow Stagg, and to bring the phoenixoverseas?"
"Somethingmorethanalotteryticket,"laughedtheother,andbeckonedtothe drawer. "We'll wait, Bob, until we're sure 'tis a phoenix indeed! There's a gentleman in Virginia with whom I've some acquaintance, Colonel William Byrd, that was the colony's agent here. I'll write to him for a true account. There'stimeenough." So thought honest Cibber, and wrote at leisure to his Virginia acquaintance. It made small difference whether he wrote or refrained from writing, for he had naughttodowiththedestiniesofDarden'sAudrey.'Twasalmostsummerbefore there came an answer to his letter. He showed it to Wilks in the greenroom, between the acts of "The Provoked Husband." Mrs. Oldfield read it over their shoulders, and vowed that 'twas a moving story; nay, more, in her next scene there was a moisture in Lady Townly's eyes quite out of keeping with the vivacityofherlines. Darden's Audrey had to do with Virginia, not London; with the winter, never morethesummer.ItisnotknownhowacceptableherMonimia,herBelvidera, her Isabella, would have been to London playgoers. Perhaps they would have receivedthemasdidtheVirginians,perhapsnot.Cibberhimselfmightormight not have drawn for us her portrait; might or might not have dwelt upon the speaking eye, the slow, exquisite smile with which she made more sad her saddestutterances,thewildcharmofhermirth,herpowertomakeeachauditor fearashisowntheimpendingharm,thetragicsplendorinwhich,whenthebolt hadfallen,convergedallthepathos,beauty,andtendernessofherearlierscenes. A Virginian of that winter, writing of her, had written thus; but then Williamsburgh was not London, nor its playhouse Drury Lane. Perhaps upon thatruderstage,beforeanaudiencelesspolite,withneveracriticinthepitor footmaninthegallery,withnoFops'Cornerandnogreatnumberoffineladies intheboxes,thejewelshonewithalustrethatinabrighterlightithadnotworn. TherewasinMr.CharlesStagg'scompanyofplayersnomateforanygem;this one was set amongst pebbles, and perhaps by contrast alone did it glow so deeply. Howeverthismaybe,inVirginia,inthewinterandtheearlyspringofthatyear ofgraceDarden'sAudreywasknown,extravagantlypraised,toasted,applauded to the echo. Night after night saw the theatre crowded, gallery, pit, and boxes. Eventhestagehaditsrowofchairs,seatsheldnottoodearathalfaguinea.Mr. Stagg had visions of a larger house, a fuller company, renown and prosperity undreamedofbeforethatfortunatedaywhen,inthegrapearbor,heandhiswife hadstoodandwatchedDarden'sAudreyasleep,withherheadpilloweduponher
arm. Darden'sAudrey!Thenameclungtoher,thoughtheministerhadnofurtherlot or part in her fate. The poetasters called her Charmante, Anwet, Chloe,—what not!YoungMr.Leeinmanyaslightandpleasingsetofversesaddressedheras Sylvia,buttothecommunityatlargeshewasDarden'sAudrey,andanenigma greaterthantheSphinx.WhywouldshenotmarryMr.MarmadukeHawardof FairView?Wasthegirllooking foraprince tocomeoverseasforher?Ordid she prefer to a dazzling marriage the excitement of the theatre, the adulation, furiousapplause?Thatcouldhardlybe,forthesethingsseemedtofrightenher. Attimesonecouldseehershrinkandgrowpaleatsomegreatclappingorloud "Again!" And only upon the stage did the town behold her. She rarely went abroad,andatthesmallwhitehouseinPalaceStreetshewasdeniedtovisitors. True,'twasthewaytokeepuponcuriositythekeenestedge,topiqueinterestand sendthetowntotheplayhouseastheonepointofviewfromwhichtheriddle mightbestudied.Butwisdomsuchasthiscouldscarcebeexpectedofthegirl. Given,then,that'twasnothervanitywhichkeptherDarden'sAudrey,whatwas it? Was not Mr. Haward of Fair View rich, handsome, a very fine gentleman? Generous, too, for had he not sworn, as earnestly as though he expected to be believed,thatthegirlwaspureinnocence?Hishandwasreadytohissword,nor weremenanxioustoincurhiscoldenmity,sothattheassertionpassedwithout open challenge. He was mad for her,—that was plain enough. And she,—well she'swomanandDarden'sAudrey,andsodoublyanenigma.Inthemeantime, to-nightsheplaysMonimia,andhermadnessmakesyouweep,sosaditis,so hopeless,andsopiercingsweet. InthisnewworldthatwassostrangetoherDarden'sAudreyboreherselfasbest shemight.Whileitwasdayshekeptwithinthehouse,wheretheroomthatin SeptembershehadsharedwithMistressDeborahwasnowforheralone.Hour after hour she sat there, book in hand, learning how those other women, those women of the past, had loved, had suffered, had fallen to dusty death. Other hours she spent with Mr. Charles Stagg in the long room downstairs, or, when Mistress Stagg had customers, in the theatre itself. As in the branded schoolmasterchancehadgivenherateacherskilledinimpartingknowledge,so inthissmallandpompousman,whobeneathagarboffustianhuggedtohimself agenuinereverenceandunderstandingofhisart,shefoundaninstructormore able, perhaps, than had been a greater actor. In the chill and empty playhouse, uponthenarrowstagewhere,sittingintheSeptembersunshine,shehadaskedof Haward her last favor, she now learned to speak for those sisters of her spirit,
thosedeadwomenwhothroughrapture,agony,andmadnesshadsunktotheir long rest, had given their hands to death and lain down in a common inn. To Audrey they were real; she was free of their company. The shadows were the people who lived and were happy; who night after night came to watch a soul caught in the toils, to thunder applause when death with rude and hasty hands brokethenet,setfreetheprisoner. Thegirldreamedasshebreathed.Wakenedfromalong,longfantasy,desolate andcoldtotheheartinanalienair,shesoughtforpoppyandmandragora,andin somesortfindingthemdreamedagain,thoughnotforherself,notasbefore.It can hardly be said that she was unhappy. She walked in a pageant of strange miseries, and the pomp of woe was hers to portray. Those changelings from some fateful land, those passionate, pale women, the milestones of whose pilgrimage spelled love, ruin, despair, and death, they were her kindred, her sisters.Dayandnighttheykepthercompany:andherownpainlessened,grew atlasttoastillanddreamysorrow,neverabsent,neverpoignant. Ofnecessity,importunategriefwasdruggedtosleep.Inthedaylighthoursshe muststudy,mustrehearsewithherfellowplayers;whennightcamesheputona beautiful dress, and to lights and music and loud applause there entered Monimia, or Belvidera, or Athenais. When the play was done and the curtain fallen,thecrowdofthosewhowouldhavestayedherevergaveway,dauntedby hereyes,herclosedlips,theatmospherethatyetwrappedherofpassion,woe, andexaltation,theverytragedyofthesoulthatshehadsorichlypainted.Like theghostofthatwomanwhohadsodirefullylovedanddied,shewaswontto slipfromtheplayhouse,throughthedarkgarden,tothesmallwhitehouseand herquietroom.Thereshelaidoffhergorgeousdress,anddrewtheornaments fromherdarkhairthatwaslongasMolly'shadbeenthatdaybeneaththesugartreeinthefar-awayvalley. SherarelythoughtofMollynow,orofthemountains.Withherhairshadowing herfaceandstreamingoverbaredneckandbosomshesatbeforehermirror.The candleburnedlow;thefaceintheglassseemednotherown.Dim,pale,darkeyed, patient-lipped at last, out of a mist and from a great distance the other woman looked at her. Far countries, the burning noonday and utter love, night andwoeandlife,thebrokentoy,flungwithhasteaway!Themistthickened;the face withdrew, farther, farther off; the candle burned low. Audrey put out the weakflame,andlaidherselfuponthebed.Sleepcamesoon,anditwasstilland dreamless.SometimesMaryStagg,lightinhand,stoleintotheroomandstood above the quiet form. The girl hardly seemed to breathe: she had a fashion of
lying with crossed hands and head drawn slightly back, much as she might be laidatlastinherfinalbed.MistressStaggputoutatimidhandandfelttheflesh ifitwerewarm;thenbentandlightlykissedhandorarmorthesoftcurveofthe throat. Audrey stirred not, and the other went noiselessly away; or Audrey openeddarkeyes,faintlysmiledandraisedherselftomeetthehalf-awedcaress, thensanktorestagain. IntoMistressStagg'slifehadstruckashaftofcoloredlight,hadcomeanoteof strangemusic,hadflownabirdofparadise.Itwasanditwasnotherdeadchild comeagain.SheknewthatherLucyhadneverbeenthus,andthelovethatshe gaveAudreywashardlymotherlove.Itwasmorenearlyanhomage,which,had shetried,shecouldnothaveexplained.Whentheywerealonetogether,Audrey calledtheolderwoman"mother,"oftenkneltandlaidherheadupontheother's laporshoulder.Inallherwaysshewassweetandduteous,gratefulandeagerto serve.Butherspiritdweltinararerair,andtherewereheightsanddepthswhere the waif and her protectress might not meet. To this the latter gave dumb recognition, and though she could not understand, yet loved her protégée. At night, in the playhouse, this love was heightened into exultant worship. At all timestherewasdelightinthegirl'sbeauty,prideinthecommentandwonderof the town, self-congratulation and the pleasing knowledge that wisdom is vindicatedofitschildren.Wasnotallthisofherbringingabout?Diditnotfirst occur to her that the child might take Jane Day's place? Even Charles, who strutted and plumed himself and offered his snuffbox to every passer-by, must acknowledge that! Mistress Stagg stopped her sewing to laugh triumphantly, then fell to work more diligently than ever; for it was her pleasure to dress Darden's Audrey richly, in soft colors, heavy silken stuffs upon which was lavishedawealthofdelicateneedlework.Itwaschieflywhileshesatandsewed upontheseprettythings,withAudrey,bookonknee,closebesideher,thather ownchildseemedtobreatheagain. Audreythankedherandkissedher,andworewhatshewasgiventowear,nor thoughthowher beautywasenhanced.Ifotherssawit,ifthewondergrewby whatitfedon,ifshewastalkedof,writtenof,pledged,andlaudedbyafrank andsusceptiblepeople,sheknewofallthislittleenough,andforwhatsheknew carednotatall.Herdayswentdreamilyby,norverysadnorhappy;fullofwork, yetvagueandunmarkedasdesertsands.Whatwasrealwasapastthatwasnot hers,andthosedeadwomentowhomnightbynightshegavelifeandsplendor. Therewerevisitorstowhomshewasnotdenied.Dardencameattimes,satin MistressStagg'ssunnyparlor,andtalkedtohissometimewardmuchashehad
talked in the glebe-house living room,—discursively, of men and parochial affairs and his own unmerited woes. Audrey sat and heard him, with her eyes upon the garden without the window. When he lifted from the chair his great shamblingfigure,andtookhisstainedoldhatandheavycane,Audreyrosealso, curtsied,andsentherdutytoMistressDeborah,butsheaskednoquestionsasto thatpasthomeofhers.Itseemednottointerestherthatthecreekwasfrozenso hardthatonecouldwalkuponittoFairView,orthattheministerhadboughta fieldfromhiswealthyneighbor,andmeanttoplantitwithOronoko.Onlywhen he told her that the little wood—the wood that she had called her own—was beingcleared,andthatalldaycouldbeheardthefallingofthetrees,didshelift startled eyes and draw a breath like a moan. The minister looked at her from undershaggybrows,shookhishead,andwenthiswaytohisfavoriteordinary, rum,andahandatcards. MistressDeborahshebeheldnomore;butoncetheWidowConstancebrought Barbaratotown,andthetwo,beingverysimplewomen,wenttotheplaytosee the old Audrey, and saw instead a queen, tinseled, mock-jeweled, clad in silk, who loved and triumphed, despaired and died. The rude theatre shook to the applause. When it was all over, the widow and Barbara went dazed to their lodging, and lay awake through the night talking of these marvels. In the morning they found the small white house, and Audrey came to them in the garden.Whenshehadkissedthem,thethreesatdowninthearbor;foritwasa fine, sunny morning, and not cold. But the talk was not easy; Barbara's eyes were so round, and the widow kept mincing her words. Only when they were joined by Mistress Stagg, to whom the widow became voluble, the two girls spokeaside. "Ihaveaguinea,Barbara,"saidAudrey."Mr.Stagggaveittome,andIneedit not,—I need naught in the world. Barbara, here!—'tis for a warm dress and a Sundayhood." "Oh, Audrey," breathed Barbara, "they say you might live at Fair View,—that youmightmarryMr.Hawardandbeafinelady"— Audreylaidherhandupontheother'slips."Hush!See,Barbara,youmusthave thedressmadethus,likemine." "Butif'tisso,Audrey!"persistedpoorBarbara."MotherandItalkedofitlast night.Shesaidyouwouldwantawaiting-woman,andIthought—Oh,Audrey!" Audrey bit her quivering lip and dashed away the tears. "I'll want no waiting-
woman,Barbara.I'mnaughtbutAudreythatyouusedtobekindto.Let'stalkof otherthings.Haveyoumissedmefromthewoodsallthesedays?" "Ithasbeenlongsinceyouwerethere,"saidBarbaradully."NowIgowithJoan at times, though mother frowns and says she is not fit. Eh, Audrey, if I could have a dress of red silk, with gold and bright stones, like you wore last night! OlddaysIhadmorethanyou,butall'schangednow.Joansays"— TheWidowConstancerisingtotakeleave,itdidnotappearwhatJoanhadsaid. Thevisitorsfromthecountrywentaway,norcameagainwhileAudreydweltin Williamsburgh. The schoolmaster came, and while he waited for his sometime pupiltoslowlydescendthestairstalkedlearnedlytoMr.Staggofnativegenius, oftheminddrawnsteadilythroughallaccidentsandadversitiestotheendofits owndiscovery,andofhowtimeandtideandallthewindsofheavenconspireto bring the fate assigned, to make the puppet move in the stated measure. Mr. Staggnodded,tookouthissnuffbox,andaskedwhatnowwastheschoolmaster's opinionofthegirl'sMonimialastnight,—thelastact,forinstance.GoodLord, howstillthehousewas!—andthenonelongsigh! Theschoolmasterfingeredthescarsinhisbands,aswashismannerattimes,but kepthiseyesupontheground.Whenhespoke,therewasinhisvoiceunwonted life. "Why, sir, I could have said with Lear, 'Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow!'—and I am not a man, sir, that's easily moved. The girl is greatly gifted. I knew that before either you or the town, sir. Audrey, goodmorrow!" SuchasthesefromoutheroldlifeDarden'sAudreysawandtalkedwith.Others soughther,watchedforher,laidtrapsthatmightachieveatleastherpresence, but largely in vain. She kept within the house; when the knocker sounded she went to her own room. No flowery message, compliment, or appeal, not even Mary Stagg's kindly importunity, could bring her from that coign of vantage. There were times when Mistress Stagg's showroom was crowded with customers;onsunnydaysyoungmenleftthebowlinggreentostrollintheshellbordered garden paths; gentlemen and ladies of quality passing up and down PalaceStreetwalkedmoreslowlywhentheycametothesmallwhitehouse,and lookedtoseeifthefaceofDarden'sAudreyshowedatanywindow. Thus the winter wore away. The springtime was at hand, when one day the Governor, wrought upon by Mistress Evelyn Byrd, sent to Mr. Stagg, bidding himwithhiswifeandthenewplayertothePalace.Thethree,dressedintheir
best, were ushered into the drawing-room, where they found his Excellency at chess with the Attorney-General; a third gentleman, seated somewhat in the shadow, watching the game. A servant placed, chairs for the people from the theatre.HisExcellencycheckmatedhisantagonist,and,leaningbackinhisgreat chair,lookedatDarden'sAudrey,butaddressedhisconversationtoMr.Charles Stagg. The great man was condescendingly affable, the lesser one obsequious; while they talked the gentleman in the shadow arose and drew his chair to Audrey's side. 'Twas Colonel Byrd, and he spoke to the girl kindly and courteously; asking after her welfare, giving her her meed of praise, dwelling halfhumorouslyupontheastonishmentanddelightintowhichshehadsurprised theplay-lovingtown.Audreylistenedwithdowncasteyestothesuavetones,the well-turnedcompliments,butwhenshemustspeakspokequietlyandwell. AtlasttheGovernorturnedtowardher,andbegantoaskwell-meantquestions andtogivepompousencouragementtothenewplayer.Noreferencewasmade tothatothertimewhenshehadvisitedthePalace.Aservantpouredforeachof the three a glass of wine. His Excellency graciously desired that they shortly give'Tamerlane'again,thatbeingaplaywhich,asatrueWhigandahaterofall tyrants, he much delighted in, and as graciously announced his intention of bestowing upon the company two slightly tarnished birthday suits. The great manthenarose,andtheaudiencewasover. Outside the house, in the sunny walk leading to the gates, the three from the theatremet,fullface,aladyandtwogentlemenwhohadbeensaunteringupand down in the pleasant weather. The lady was Evelyn Byrd; the gentlemen were Mr.LeeandMr.Grymes. Audrey, moving slightly in advance of her companions, halted at the sight of Evelyn,andtherichcolorsurgedtoherface;buttheother,paleandlovely,kept hercomposure,and,withasmileandafewgracefulwordsofgreeting,curtsied deeplytotheplayer.Audrey,withalittlecatchofherbreath,returnedthecurtsy. Bothwomenwererichlydressed,bothwerebeautiful;itseemedaceremonious meetingoftwoladiesofquality.Thegentlemenalsobowedprofoundly,pressing theirhatsagainsttheirhearts.MistressStagg,towhomherprotégée'saversionto company was no light cross, twitched her Mirabell by the sleeve and, hanging upon his arm, prevented his further advance. The action said: "Let the child alone; maybe when the ice is once broken she'll see people, and not be so shy andstrange!" "Mr. Lee," said Evelyn sweetly, "I have dropped my glove,—perhaps in the
summer-house on the terrace. If you will be so good? Mr. Grymes, will you desireMr.Staggyondertoshortlyvisitmeatmylodging?Iwishtobespeaka play,andwouldconferwithhimonthematter." Thegentlemenbowedandhastedupontheirseveralerrands,leavingAudreyand Evelynstandingfacetofaceinthesunnypath."Youarewell,Ihope,"saidthe latter,inherlow,clearvoice,"andhappy?" "Iamwell,MistressEvelyn,"answeredAudrey."IthinkthatIamnotunhappy." Theothergazedatherinsilence;then,"Wehaveallbeenblind,"shesaid."'Tis notayearsinceMayDayandtheJaquelins'merrymaking.Itseemsmuchlonger. Youwontherace,—doyouremember?—andtooktheprizefrommyhand.And neither of us thought of all that should follow—did we?—or guessed at other days.Isawyoulastnightatthetheatre,andyoumademyheartliketoburstfor pityandsorrow.Youwereonlyplayingatwoe?Youarenotunhappy,notlike that?" Audreyshookherhead."No,notlikethat." Therewasapause,brokenbyEvelyn."Mr.Hawardisintown,"shesaid,ina low but unfaltering voice, "He was at the playhouse last night. I watched him sittinginabox,intheshadow....Youalsosawhim?" "Yes," said Audrey. "He had not been there for a long, long time. At first he camenightafternight....Iwrotetohimatlastandtoldhimhowhetroubledme, —mademeforgetmylines,—andthenhecamenomore." There was in her tone a strange wistfulness. Evelyn drew her breath sharply, glanced swiftly at the dark face and liquid eyes. Mr. Grymes yet held the manager and his wife in conversation, but Mr. Lee, a small jessamine-scented gloveinhand,washurryingtowardthemfromthesummer-house. "YouthinkthatyoudonotloveMr.Haward?"saidEvelyn,inalowvoice. "Ilovedonethatneverlived,"saidAudreysimply."Itwasallinadreamfrom which I have waked. I told him that at Westover, and afterwards here in Williamsburgh. I grew so tired at last—it hurt me so to tell him ... and then I wrotetheletter.HehasbeenatFairViewthislongtime,hashenot?" "Yes," said Evelyn quietly. "He has been alone at Fair View." The rose in her cheekshadfaded;sheputherlacehandkerchieftoherlips,andshutherhandso