Sir Christopher: A Romance of a Maryland Manor in 1644

Elinor shivered and clasped Cecil close about the shoulders. "Go on, go on!" she whispered breathlessly.

"All hands were ordered to the guns at the gates. I worked side by side with Giles Brent, he, too, half shrinking from me, half drawn toward me as if I were a messenger from another world. When he fell, two men picked him up and one asked, 'Whither shall we carry him?'

"'To Mistress Calvert's home,' said the other.

"'Mistress Elinor Calvert?' I asked, my knees shaking under me.

"'Ay,' said the soldier, 'she and her boy have been settled here since February. She is in the second house beyond the Church of Our Lady.' Oh, Elinor, may you never know the anguish that thought cost me! If I had fought like a man before, I fought like a devil then, but we had not ammunition enough for our guns. The time was too short for bringing it from the powder-house, and they burst in at the weakest gate, the one furthest from mine, and then my only thought was to get to thee and die fighting at thy side. No, that's not true neither, for I thought little of dying: my blood was up, and I was bent on trying how many of the rascally invaders I could put an end to.

"I started from the gate on a dead run, and before I had gone a hundred paces I found old Philpotts by my side. Hard by the Governor's Spring we met Claiborne with a gang of marauders, armed with cutlasses. One of them made at Philpotts and ran him through the throat, so the poor fellow fell without a groan, and the blood of his faithful heart flowed out into the spring. Heaven rest his soul for truer friend man never had."

"And thou?"

"Faith, 'twas like to have fared no better with me; but that Neale and Ellyson and their following let drive at the invaders and drove them off, following them to keep them on the run. Only Claiborne stood his ground. Just as my sword touched him in the side, I heard him cry, 'Help, Ralph!' and turning I found myself face to face with Ingle, carrying Cecil in his arms; the poor child was screaming lustily."

"And fighting, Thir Chrithtopher. Say now, was I not scratching and biting valiantly?"

"That he was, and hath a handful of the pirate's hair as a keepsake. Just then Ingle caught sight of me, and 'twas as if he saw the Day of Judgment. 'So you 're come to take me to Hell, are you?' he said. With that he dropped Cecil, and ran at me with his cutlass, having no time to draw pistol. 'Twas scarce a fair fight, for I verily believe had he not been mastered by ghostly fear he would have finished me."

"Thank God for the deliverance!"

"Ay, and for a greater mercy than life. The wretch did make confession to Father White, and of what, thinkst thou?"

"Oh, Mother," cried Cecil, unable to curb his impatience another moment, "it was he who killed Father Mohl."

"I know."

"Thou knowest? In God's name, how didst thou know?" Neville exclaimed.

"The emerald tag."

Margaret Brent had entered unperceived, and now her questioning eyes said, "Who wore it?"

"Ralph Ingle, to-day, on his left arm, as if it were a badge to be proud of, – he, the man whose presence I tolerated, whose hateful love-making I permitted. Oh, Christopher, canst thou forgive me?"

"Forgive? Dearest, I love thee!"

"And canst thou forgive one who cannot lay claim to that mantle of love that covers all sins?"

It was the voice of Giles Brent, who had staggered to the door and stood leaning against the post, a new expression of humility on his proud face.

"Sir Christopher Neville," he went on, "I have been hopelessly wrong, honestly but fatally wrong, and I do most earnestly entreat you who have been so deeply injured to believe in the depth of my grief and repentance."

"You had every reason – " began Christopher.

"Ay, but of what use are faith and friendship but to warm the fires about reason when she grows too cold. To my life's end I must bear the bitter thought of my injustice, but I pray God the lesson may not be lost. See, here is my sword, a present from Baltimore! If you can find it in your heart to forgive, accept this and wear it."

With his unwounded arm Brent drew the sword with difficulty from its scabbard, and extended it towards Neville. It was a symbol of surrender. Neville took it, and seizing Brent's hand he raised the hilt of the sword, exclaiming, "By this token I swear fealty to my lady, and to all her kindred!"

"Elinor," said Brent, "this Neville is a worthy gentleman, and thou hast made no mistake in giving thy heart into his keeping."

"Amen," said Margaret Brent.

"Ah," said Elinor, jealously, turning swiftly toward Margaret, "thou didst never doubt him; thou canst afford to be proud."

Margaret Brent smiled. "No storm," she said, "no rainbow; no trial, no faith; no faith, no love."

"Mother," broke in Cecil, "wilt thou wed Thir Chrithtopher?"

"If he condescend to ask me again, I surely will."

"Thir Chrithtopher! You do mean to ask her again?"

"Perhaps, some day."

"Couldst not make thy decidence now?"

"Why dost thou seek to hurry me so? Marriage is a serious matter, and who knows but I might regret any undue haste!"

"Nay, now art thou in jest and I in earnest, for we were to have the feast of Candlemas to-night, and there are not candles enough to go round; but if you and Mother are to be one – "

"I do take your meaning, – then one candle will do for both."

"'Xactly."

"In that case, I must waive all scruples, and I do here commit myself to a solemn promise to ask Mistress Calvert to marry me; and, Cecil, I am fain to ask thee for a betrothal gift."

"I know, – the Calvert seal."

"Nay, I have no use for the seal, Cecil, though its motto stood by me well in the dark days last winter. Yes, Elinor, I said them over to myself many a time there in the tobacco-house, – 'Fatti Maschij: Parole Femine, – Deeds for men; words for women.' They may not be read so in the bastard Italian, but so they were writ in my heart, and I said, 'After all, 'tis my life must speak for me. If that condemns me, protests are vain; if that acquits me, who in the end shall be able to stand against me?' But, Cecil, there is still something I did once decline like a churl when thou didst offer it, and have longed for in secret ever since."

"Oh, you mean Mother's picture; why, of course you may have it, and mine too, which has larger pearls round it, – may he not, Mother?"

"Cecil, what is ours is his."

"And better still, what is his must be ours, so I shall have the bow and arrows without asking. We will have our feast to-night, and we will set out all the candles in the house and deck the table with flowers of purification and the bowl of punch and the seed-cakes."

"Ave Maria Purificante!" quoth Father White, who had entered unperceived at the open door. "Sir Christopher, you have borne yourself nobly under the shadow of a great tragedy."

"Tragedy! Nay, the story with a happy ending is not such. My life is no tragedy."

And Christopher Neville spoke truth, for the only real tragedy is the degeneration of the soul under misfortune, and the only real misfortune is that which dominates character.

"Hurrah for Candlemas Day, raid and all!" cried Cecil.

From the street came an echoing cry, —

"Hey for St. Mary's, and Wives for us all!"

As for Christopher, he knelt beside Elinor, and putting his arms about her close he whispered, "Now I have thee for always. Fate itself could not separate us. So thou must e'en make the best of a poor bargain, and take me for a life tenant of Robin Hood's Barn."

THE END

1

Published 1895.