The Cavaliers of Virginia. Volume 1 of 2

The chase, like misfortune, is a wonderful leveller of distinctions. Foremost in the field were the proud Sir William and the keener Fairfax; one upon either side of Congo, whooping and yelling in unison, and all distinctions forgotten for the moment, but the speed and bottom of their coursers; the countenances of the three alike expressive of concentrated eagerness in the sport. To a spectator on the summit of the hill, the scene was not wanting in picturesque and striking features. The sun was just peeping over the blue hills, and lifting the vapours from the valleys beneath, in all the variegated and beauteous tints of the rainbow, as they arose in majestic masses and encircled the summits of the cliffs. The cool and invigorating breeze of a young summer morn, as it was wafted through the romantic dales and glens, came loaded with the richest sweets of forest and of flower. And when the music of the hounds was softened in the distance to a faint harmonious swell upon the air, the feathered tribes, luxuriant in beauty, warbled forth their richest strains of nature's melody as they hopped from twig to twig, flashing their brilliant colours in dazzling contrast to the pendant dew-drops glittering in the sunbeams. On the other hand the rays fell in broad sheets of light upon the tranquil waters of the noble Powhatan, as seen through the deep green foliage of the woodland vista. The city too was dimly visible in the distance, its towering columns of smoke shooting high up towards heaven through the clear calm air, and expanding into fleecy waves as they were lost or scattered in the higher regions of the atmosphere. These morning glories of a southern sunrise were, however, lost upon our sportsmen, who now came sweeping round the base of the hill from the opposite side, the horses covered with foam, and riders making the welkin ring again with their shouts of gladness and excitement. The dignity of station and of birth, affairs of state, and all other considerations foreign to the business of the time, were utterly forgotten and abandoned, while their late proud possessors vied with the youngest and the humblest in seizing the pleasures of the chase. The horses seemed in the distance as if their bodies were moving through the air, a foot and a half nearer the ground than they were wont, their legs nearly invisible; while their riders bent over their necks as if impatient even of this headlong speed.

Hitherto the hounds as usual, when in pursuit of the fox, had moved in the figure of a rude circle, never departing to any great distance from the point whence they had started, but moving round and round the hill; and there was every appearance that the chase would be thus continued until the game was either fairly run down, or had gained the shelter of his hole.

In the present instance, however, an unexpected reprieve was granted to the hard pressed animal. The dogs, as they came round the brow of the hill for the third or fourth time, struck off abruptly from their regular circuit; the foremost chargers were reined up and in a short time the whole cavalcade was brought to a stand at the point where the dogs had quitted the track.

The cause of this interruption to the sport was readily understood by the experienced Cavaliers. A buck had crossed between the dogs and the fox, and the former, contrary to their usual discipline and stanchness, broke off to follow the newest scent. Many were the imprecations hurled at the head of Old Congo and his deputies for this misconduct of their charge, the consequence, as was affirmed, of their having been set upon the trail of a buck on the previous Sabbath. It was now, however, too late to remedy the evil, as Congo's bugle itself was not sufficient to recall the eager pack.

Firearms were immediately unslung from the shoulders of such as bore them, and Mr. Fairfax, as the keenest sportsman, leading the way, nearly half of the youths were quickly seen following him up the opposite hill. Sir William Berkley and such of the company as had already been worn out, retraced their steps to the picturesque point from which they had set out, and which has already been described.

Here some of the footmen, retained for the purpose, speedily constructed a rude table under an umbrageous tree, upon which was laid out a tempting display of cold viands, wines and strong waters. Horses were now tied to the surrounding trees, and their riders threw themselves upon the sward to repose their wearied limbs, and regale their longing eyes upon the good things which only awaited the return of their comrades. This delay seemed likely, however, to prove rather tedious to the longing appetites of the former, who had not as yet broken their fast.

Full two hours had elapsed, and yet no token came of hounds or huntsmen. The patience even of the formal and ceremonious Sir William began to flag, and he forthwith ordered the bugles to sound a recall from the highest spot in the neighbourhood. In vain the reverberating blasts reëchoed from hill to hill, and from river to cliff; in vain they, paused to listen for the music of the hounds or an answering signal from the keener sportsmen. After repeated trials the patience of the Governor gave way, and having set apart a share of the provision for their comrades, they fell upon the tempting display with knife and dagger. Cups of horn, and silver flagons were speedily, produced, and in a short time their absent compeers were almost forgotten in the general destruction of cold capons, tongue and ham.

Towards the conclusion of the repast, the absent sportsmen began to drop in singly and at intervals. The bridles of their foaming horses were thrown to the grooms, and they fell upon the wine and fowls like famished soldiers, after a long day's march. Then came a panting hound, crouching beneath the legs of a horse, with his tongue hanging from his mouth; then another, and another, until they had all obeyed the summons of the bugle.

None of the huntsmen who had returned as yet, had been in at the death; but it was supposed that Mr. Fairfax, the only one now missing, had been more fortunate, as the hounds that came in last were covered with blood. He was momentarily expected, but they listened in vain for the sound of his horn. Old Congo was despatched over the hills to summon him with his bugle, but he likewise returned without any tidings of the absent Cavalier, and without having heard any answering notes to those of his own horn. Hours were spent in waiting for him, at first occupied by the younger Cavaliers in various games and athletic sports, but as the day waned apace, and still no news of him arrived, uneasiness began to engross the minds of his associates.

By the orders of the Governor, the whole Cavalcade spread themselves, and scoured the forests for miles in the direction he had been seen to take, but no answer was returned to their shouts and bugles, and no token of his presence and safety was discovered. Occasionally two parties were brought together by a supposed answer from his bugle, but it was found to be only the reply of one scouring party to another.

After a long and fruitless search, they resolved to hasten to the city, in hopes that he had reached his home by some other route, and in case this supposition should prove fallacious it was resolved that the whole male population should be called out to the search. The distance was accomplished with a speed and recklessness quite equal to that with which they had performed it in the morning, but with feelings very different. A general and gloomy silence pervaded their ranks. Gideon Fairfax was one of the most universally popular Cavaliers in the Colony; he was generous, hospitable, and sincere, with his equals, and humane and affable to his inferiors. His own slaves idolized him, and would have readily perilled life and limb in defence either of his person or his reputation.

When, the cavalcade arrived at the bridge, their painful suspense and anxiety were little relieved by perceiving an immense crowd assembled round the house of Mr. Fairfax. That some accident must have befallen him they had too good reason now to apprehend, else what could have drawn the multitude together? The arrival of a successful huntsman, was an affair of too frequent occurrence at Jamestown to excite the present visible commotion. The returning and anxious Cavaliers were soon met by the eager throng, who pressed around them in crowds, each party demanding of the other news respecting their absent fellow-citizen.

The assemblage of the crowd around the house was soon explained by the appearance of his favourite charger, upon which he had set out in the morning, so full of health, vigour and animation. He was held in the midst of the assemblage, his head-gear broken, the saddle bloody, and his sides dripping with mud and water, as if he had just crossed through the river. In this condition he had presented himself at the stable door where he was usually kept, without his rider, and this was all they knew in the city concerning the fate of the missing horseman. This was enough to excite the most distracting fears in the minds of his own family, and the worst apprehensions, in those of his immediate friends and more humble admirers.

Horses and men were speedily volunteered for the purpose of scouring the whole forest in the direction of the chase. Many of the Cavaliers barely dismounted from one horse to mount another; and in a very few minutes, hundreds of citizens, some on horseback and others on foot, had assembled. While they were thus speedily collecting their forces, a scream from some washerwomen on the bank of the river, quickly drew the crowd in that direction. Men, women and children rushed to the spot with feelings of anxiety and alarm, wrought to the highest pitch. They were not left long in doubt, for a boat was just nearing the shore, in which were two men rowing, while another supported upon his lap the head of the still living but wounded Cavalier.

CHAPTER XII

Mr. Fairfax was borne to his own dwelling upon a litter, amidst the universal regrets and lamentations of the people. The condition of his own immediate family may be more easily imagined than described. The most heart-rending shrieks pierced the air when it was announced to the female part of it that the amiable and generous head of their house had been basely shot, – by whom he knew not, nor could he form a conjecture. The deed was perpetrated a few moments after he had himself shot the buck. He immediately fell from his horse and was for a time perfectly unconscious of his condition. When he revived he found his horse gone and himself so weakened from loss of blood that he was unable to stand. His only resource was his trumpet, upon which he made repeated efforts to summon his companions, but even the sound of his horn was so feeble that it could not have been heard more than a few rods from the spot. While he was in this helpless condition he chanced to discover three men fishing at the base of the river bank, whom he attempted to summon to his aid, but the sound of the water prevented them from hearing him. With great difficulty and suffering he was at length enabled to crawl down the hill to such a distance that he might be heard, and was thence borne to the city in their boat, as the reader has already been informed.

The surgeon, after examining his wound, pronounced it to be of the most alarming character, and assured Bacon, apart from the family that he had little hopes for the life of his patron, who after the exhaustion of his painful journey and the succeeding intense pain caused by the probing of his wounds had fallen into a deep sleep.

Sometime during the morning which has been described in the preceding chapter, and while the hunting party were yet enjoying themselves undisturbed by any untoward accident, Bacon had invited Virginia to accompany him in his first stroll through the garden since his illness. She complied with more alacrity than had been usual with her of late, hoping that the refreshing sweets of a summer morning and the cheering sight of birds and flowers, would dispel the gloomy misanthropy which had settled upon his countenance since his disappointment at not being able to join the chase.

After a silent promenade through the shady walks, they seated themselves in the little summer house already mentioned, and Bacon thus broke the embarrassing silence.

"Virginia, the current of events seems to be hurrying us on to a painful crisis! It is impossible for me to shut my eyes to such of them at least, as relate more particularly to myself. My position in the society in which I now move, is daily becoming more painful to me. I am constantly subjected to the impertinence of those who imagine that they have, or perhaps really have, some reason to complain of the protection and countenance afforded to me by your noble father."

"Trust then, Nathaniel, to his and our continued confidence and esteem, and less to the morbid sensibility which disturbs you, and all will soon be well again."

"Not so, Virginia. If we were in a little community by ourselves, I could indeed give my whole mind and soul to such enjoyments as the society of your family has already afforded to me, forgetting all the world besides, and never listening for a moment to ambitious hopes and aspiring thoughts. But in this proud and aristocratic circle, I must soon be either more or less than I am at present."

"Why must you be more or less than you are, Nathaniel?" said Virginia, with unaffected and bewitching naivete.

"Is it possible, Virginia, that you do not see the reason why? Have you witnessed the fierce struggles contending at my heart and never formed a surmise as to the real cause?"

"Except the morbid sensitiveness to which I have already alluded, and its very insufficient cause, I declare that I know of none."

"Is it possible. Good Heavens! and must I at last break through the restraints which I had imposed upon myself? Must I trample upon the generous hospitality of the father to lay my heart open before his daughter?" Her countenance underwent an instantaneous change, and while he continued, her eyes fell beneath his ardent gaze, and her head sank upon her bosom in confusion.

"I will indeed trust to the flattering delusion which hope whispers in my ear, that perhaps your father himself knows enough of me and of my origin to absolve me from these restraints. It must be so, Virginia – else he had never trusted a heart, young and susceptible like mine, to the constant influence of beauty like yours," and he took her unresisting hand, "joined with such perfect innocence and such childlike simplicity as never till this moment to be conscious of its power. Oh, Virginia, I would fain believe, that he foresaw and approved of the result which he could not but anticipate. What he approves will his daughter's voice confirm? – No answer! Will you not vouchsafe one little word to keep my sinking hopes alive! – You are offended; your countenance speaks the language which your tongue is unaccustomed to utter!"

"What should I say?" answered Virginia; "would you have me promise a return of love whose indulgence is dependent on contingency? Is it kind, is it proper to urge me upon this subject under existing circumstances?"

"By heavens, Virginia, there shall be no contingency of my making! I have crossed the Rubicon, and you shall have the knowledge as you have had possession of my whole soul from the days of our infancy. 'Tis yours, Virginia, wholly yours; soul, mind and heart, all yours. Mould them as you will, reject me if you must, they are still yours. I swear never to profane the shrine of this first and only love by offering them up on any other. They are offered now, because my destiny so wills it. We are the creatures of circumstances. I have vainly struggled against the overwhelming tide which has borne me to this point. I am goaded onward by insult – beset with menaces, and torn by the storms of such a passion as never man before encountered. Can you, dear Virginia, vouchsafe to me some measure of relief from these distracting emotions? Say that you would have been mine under other circumstances! Say that you will never wed that proud and imperious Beverly! Say any thing, Virginia, which shall calm the tumults of my bosom, and feed my hopes for the future." While he thus spoke, the blushing maiden was evidently labouring under emotions little less powerful than his own. Her previous air of offended feminine dignity was fast melting into sympathy, with the impassioned feelings of the excited youth. She felt for his peculiar griefs and cares, and shared his warmer sentiments. The youth perceived the softening mood, and continued.

"Speak, I pray you, Virginia, I am in your hands. Speak me into existence, or banish me from your presence!"

"I do not know, Nathaniel," said Virginia, after many attempts to give utterance to her thoughts, "whether it is proper at all times to speak the truth, but I will not deceive you now. There does indeed seem to be a peculiar concurrence of circumstances around us, and more perhaps than you are yourself aware of. I did not intend to deceive you, or lead you astray; when I told you a few moments since that I knew nothing of any other struggle than that arising from your own excited feelings, I spoke the truth, but perhaps not the entire truth;" and as she spoke, a lovely blush suffused her neck and downcast face; "I knew of other struggles indeed, but not your's, Nathaniel."

"Were they yours, Virginia, and of the same nature? say they were, and heaven bless for ever the tongue that utters it."

"That you have to ask, does more honour to my discretion, than I have ascribed to it myself of late. I have had painful fears that I should have little to tell on an occasion like the present, should it ever come, with my father's approbation. And if I have now overstepped the bounds of that proviso, it was in the hope of calming your troubled spirits, and preventing a catastrophe upon which I have looked with dreadful anticipation, since the night of the insurrection."

"And will you indeed be mine?"

"I will, Nathaniel, whenever you gain my father's approbation; but without it, never."

At this moment the garden gate was heard to creak upon its hinges, (most unmusically to Bacon's ears,) and Harriet Harrison came tripping over beds and flowers, all out of breath, her cheeks glowing with the heightened colour of exercise, and her eyes sparkling with mischief just ready to explode.

"Oh, Virginia! Virginia! such news!" was her first exclamation; "But shall I tell it before Mr. Bacon?"

"Yes, if it is of the usual kind."

"Well, upon your own head be the consequences. I have accidentally overheard such a secret! You must know that your Aunt Berkley has been at our house this morning, and I overheard her tell my mother that there was to be a great wedding immediately, and that I was to be one of the brides-maids. What! no tell-tale guilty blush? Well, who do you think is to be the bride-groom, and who the bride?"

"Indeed, Harriet, I cannot even guess."

"The blissful man, then is Beverly – but can you name his bride?"

"I should not go far hence for an answer, if you had not announced your nomination for a secondary office."

"O fie, fie, Virginia, I did not think you could play the hypocrite so well. I will tell you who it is then, but you must not breathe it even to the winds, nor you, Mr. Bacon. It is a sly arch little damsel, about your age and figure; by name Virginia Fairfax!" And with, these words, she burst into a loud laugh, pointing to her companion with her finger, and then tripped away again towards the gate without waiting to see the effect of her communication; but stopping with the gate in her hand, she cried – "But remember, Virginia, Charles Dudley is not to stand up with me; we don't speak now." And then she flew away, her hat hanging by the riband round her neck, and her raven ringlets flying loose around her temples. Virginia sat as one without life or motion, her face deadly pale, and her eye preternaturally clear and glassy, but without a tear. Her respiration was hurried and oppressed, and her countenance expressive of high and noble resolves in the midst of the keenest mental suffering. She knew whence her aunt obtained her information, and in its communication to others in the confidence of the Governor, before she had been consulted, she saw the tyrannical determination of that arbitrary old man to consummate this hated union without the least regard to her wishes or her feelings.

As these convictions flashed upon her mind, they called up firm and resolute determinations, even in her gentle bosom! she was stung into resistance by the tyrannical and high handed measures of her uncle, and resolved to resist upon the threshold. Bacon's physical frame was not so steady, or his nerves in his present mood so well strung by high resolves of independent action. He too saw by whom the blow was aimed, and upon whose head it would principally fall, and he trembled for the consequences to his gentle companion. He did not know the strength of her independent mind, and the endurance and fortitude with which she would carry her purposes into execution. He knew her to be gentle and kind and superlatively lovely, but as yet she had endured no trials, – her courage and fortitude had been put to no test. The very amiable qualities which had won his affections, served only to increase his doubts as to her capacity to resist and endure what he too plainly saw awaited her. He had yet to learn that these are almost always found united in the female bosom with a signal power of steady and calm resistance to oppression. To this resolution had Virginia arrived, when his more turbulent and masculine emotions burst from his tongue as he seized her hand, "Swear to me, Virginia, before high Heaven, that you will never marry this proud heir of wealth, and worldly honours."

"Upon one Condition."

"Name it! if it is possible, it is done!"

"That you from this moment give up all idea of a meeting with Frank Beverly, which I know has only thus long been delayed by your wounds and illness." He dropped her hand and writhed upon his seat in agony – the cold perspiration bursting from his pale forehead, as he covered it with his hands. But presently standing up he exclaimed, "Great God! and can you ask this of me, Virginia? Is my honour of so little value to you, that you can ask me to betray it? You heard the insult! You saw the dagger aimed in the dark! Ay, and saw it strike upon a bare and wounded nerve! Shall I not resist? Is an assassin to thrust the point of his steel into the very apple of my eye, and meet with no resistance? Instinct itself would strike back the cowardly blow. Another might forego the measure of his revenge for an ordinary insult, but placed as I am, an elevated mark for impertinence and malignity to shoot at, with nothing but my single arm to defend me; no line of noble and heroic ancestors to support my pretensions, and my rank in the community; no living relations to give the lie to his calumnies! Standing alone amidst a host of powerful enemies, shall I be stricken down by a cowardly maligner, and never turn to strike one blow for my good name, my mother's honour, my father's memory, and my own standing in society? No, no, Virginia; you cannot, you will not, require me to promise this. One evidence I must and will give to the calumniator, that I come of no churl's blood."

"But, Nathaniel, did you not resent and thus return his injury upon the spot?"

"Ay, truly, I did hurl defiance in the craven's teeth, but that only throws the demand for satisfaction upon his shoulders, so that when it is made, I may at once atone for his, and take ample reparation for my own deep wrongs."

"Promise me, then, that you will but act with Frank henceforth on the defensive? Remember he is my kinsman."

"I do promise; and now promise me in your turn never to marry this kinsman, unless I give my consent, or you should be absolved from your obligation by my death, or some other irremediable barrier."

"I promise, Nathaniel."

Scarcely had the words issued from her lips, when the clanking of stirrups and clattering of a horse's hoofs at full speed, were heard outside the garden wall.

Into what a state of consternation and dismay the family was thrown by the appearance of the bloody and panting charger at his stable door without his master, the reader may already have imagined.

CHAPTER XIII

It was the hour of midnight; the softened rays of a shaded lamp threw a flickering and uncertain light upon the paraphernalia of the sick chamber, as our hero sat a solitary watcher at the side of the wounded Cavalier. The long and apparently profound sleep into which the invalid had fallen, completely deceived the females of the family, so that they were more easily persuaded by Nathaniel to leave the charge, during the first half of the night, to his sole care. He had for a long time sat a sad and silent beholder of the unconscious sleeper, watching with breathless eagerness every change of muscle, as some sharp and inward pain vibrated in horrible contortions upon the countenance of the wounded Cavalier. In one of these he started suddenly up in the bed, his eyes glaring wildly upon his unrecognised attendant in utter amazement. First looking into his face and then to the bandages around his own person, he fell back on his couch – a grim and frightful smile of remembrance and recognition playing for a moment upon his features, as he placed his cold hand within that of Bacon, which had been softly laid upon his breast to soothe his startled perceptions.