United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction; War stories
Mr. Fairfax quickly left the room. The alderman sat there speechless,
but looking satisfied and complacent. It certainly did make a man
thirsty to ride abroad on a sunshiny morning, and his ears were
sharp-set for the comfortable clink of glasses. The heavy tray
presently arrived, and was put near him on a card table, and the old
butler, with his pleasant Virginian speech, was eager in the discharge
of hospitality; Mr. Fairfax being still absent, and Mary quite at the
end of her courage. She could not take the cool draught which old Peter
offered her with respectful entreaties, as if he were Cæsar, their own
old slave; she tried to look at the hunting pictures on the wall, but
they blurred strangely,—there was something the matter with her eyes.
"What noble Jamaica spirits!" said Mr. John Davis, looking at the
ceiling with affected indifference as his glass was being replenished.
"Did your master grow these lemons on his own plantations in Virginia?
They are of a wondrous freshness," he added, politely, to repeat his
approval of such an entertainment. "Miss Hamilton, my dear, you forget
we must take the long ride back again to Bristol. I fear you make a
great mistake to refuse any refreshment at good Peter’s hands."
The door was thrown open and Mr. Fairfax made a handsome, middle-aged
gentleman precede him into the room.
"I was afraid that I should miss this noble friend," he said gayly; "he
might have been taking advantage of so fine a morning, like yourselves.
Here is my Lord Newburgh, Miss Hamilton; this is Lord Newburgh himself
for you! You must have heard of the Honorable Mr. Davis, of Bristol, my
lord?—one of their great merchants. I have told you already that Miss
Hamilton brings you a letter, and that she hopes for your interest with
my Lord Mount Edgecumbe. My dear Miss Hamilton, this gives me great
pleasure! When you said that you had brought such a letter, I was sure
at last that there was one thing I could do for you."
Lord Newburgh gravely saluted these new acquaintances, taking quick
notice of the lady’s charm, and smiling over his shoulder at Mr.
Fairfax’s excited manner. He waved his hand in kind protest to check
Peter’s officious approach with the tray of glasses.
"So you have a letter for me, from America, Miss Hamilton?" he asked
bluntly; and she put it into his hand.
Lord Newburgh gave a curious look at the carefully written address, and
turned the folded sheet to see the seal. Then he flushed like a man in
anger and bit his lip as he looked at the seal again, and started back
as he stood close by the window, so that they all saw him. Then he tore
open Master Sullivan’s letter.
"It is dated this very last month!" he cried. "My God! do you mean to
tell me that this man is still alive?"
*XXXVI*
*MY LORD NEWBURGH’s KINDNESS*
"Thus says my King: Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead,
we did but sleep."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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