From Kingdom to Colony

by Mary Devereux

  CHAPTER VIII

  When Dorothy left the dining-room, it was by a door opposite that bywhich Aunt Penine had made her angry exit,--one leading to thestorerooms and kitchen.

  The one through which Dorothy went opened directly upon a smallplatform, whose flight of three steps descended into the main hall,which was part of the original building, and was now lighted dimly by aship's lantern swinging from the low dark-wood ceiling, or"planchement."

  A pair of handsome antlers were fixed against the wall about midwaydown the passage, and underneath these was a long mahogany table, piledwith a miscellaneous collection of whips, hats, and riding-gloves.

  Directly opposite hung the family arms, placed there more than ahundred years before by the hands of John Devereux, the "Emigrant," ashe was called. They were: Arg., a fesse, gu., in chief three torteaux.Crest;--out of a ducal coronet, or, a talbots head, arg., eared, gu.And the motto was "Basis Virtutum Constantia."

  Other than this the long, wide hall was bare of furnishing.

  Dorothy came out with her usual impetuous rush, and closing the doorquickly behind her, was startled by seeing a form rise, as it seemed,from the platform, and then, as if retreating hastily, stumble and falldown the steps.

  The girl looked with astonishment, and saw Aunt Penine prostrate uponthe floor of the hall, her upturned face pale and distorted, as withpain.

  It was quite evident that she had been eavesdropping; and Dorothyremained at the head of the steps regarding her scornfully for amoment, before asking if she were hurt.

  "Yes, I have done somewhat to my ankle, drat it!" gasped the sufferer,but in a low voice, as if fearful of attracting the attention of thoseon the other side of the door.

  "Shall I call Jack?" Dorothy inquired, a faint smile of sarcasmtouching her lips; and she made a movement as though to reopen the door.

  "No, no,--oh no!" exclaimed Aunt Penine in great alarm, as sheendeavored to regain her feet.

  This she at length succeeded in doing, and stood with one hand againstthe wall, while she groaned, but in a suppressed way.

  Just then Mary Broughton came from a room farther down the hall, whereshe had been delighting Aunt Lettice with soft melodies drawn from thespinet, upon which both she and Dorothy were skilful performers.

  "What is it--is anything amiss?" she asked quickly, coming up to AuntPenine, and laying a hand on her trembling shoulder.

  But Aunt Penine only continued to groan dismally, while her niece, witha laugh she did not try to hide, now came down the steps.

  "Aunt Penine was evidently anxious to be of my father's council," shesaid to Mary; "and I chanced to open the door too quickly for her, sothat she slipped down the steps and has twisted her ankle."

  Her aunt straightened herself and glanced angrily at the girl, who onlylaughed again, while Mary Broughton stood regarding her with a puzzledlook.

  "Shall I help you to your room, Aunt Penine?" Dorothy asked withelaborate politeness, holding out her arm.

  "No," snapped her aunt. "I wish no assistance from you, whose sharptongue seems ever ready with insult for your elders. Mary will helpme; and ye may find Tyntie, and send her to my room." With this shehobbled away, leaning heavily upon Mary, who looked back reproachfullyat Dorothy.

  But Dot only laughed again, as she turned and went to a door at the endof the hall which communicated with a side passage leading to theservants' quarters; then, having summoned Tyntie, she came back andseated herself upon a lower step of the main staircase to await Mary'scoming.

  Her friend's first words were full of reproof. "Oh, Dot, how could youseem so heartless?" she said. "You should see Aunt Penine's foot; 'tis swollen fearfully, and her ankle is discolored."

  "If you but knew how it came about, Mary, perhaps you'd be less readyto scold me," Dorothy replied, making room on the step. "There areweighty matters being talked of in the dining-room yonder, and I was totell you what Jack took me in for. Aunt Penine came in with the punchwhile I was there, and she tried to have me sent away. She was angrythat father would not do this, but bade her mind her business and letme alone. When I opened the door just now, she was trying to listen towhat they were saying, and I came out so suddenly as to frighten her,so that she stumbled and hurt herself. I am sorry she is hurt; but ifit had befallen me, she'd have been ready enough to say I'd butreceived my just deserts."

  "Why should she try to listen at the door?" asked Mary with surprise,as she twisted one of Dorothy's short curls about her slender fingers.But Dorothy gave her head an unruly toss, to release the curl, as shehad ever a dislike for being fondled or touched in any way, unless itwere by her father or brother.

  "There is really to be a war, and that soon," she replied. "Thesoldiers, they say, are coming down to the Neck in a few days--perhapseven to-morrow; and the people propose--and rightly, too--to fightthem, if needs be, should they try to interfere with our doings. AuntPenine sides with the English, I take it from what I've heard her say;and I know for a surety she has been slyly making tea to drink, for allthat father has forbidden it. He and Aunt Lettice miss their tea asmuch as ever she does herself, and yet they have never touched a drop.I intend to tell him to-morrow that I know of a canful of tea in thestore-closet. I was talking with Aunt Lettice about it when you camethis evening. She supposed there was not a grain of it in the house,and I am sure father has been thinking the same. Aunt Penine isdeceitful and disloyal to him--and so I shall tell him, if I live,to-morrow morning."

  "Whatever did she expect to hear, that she did so mean and dishonorablea thing as to listen at the keyhole?" Mary spoke musingly, a finescorn now touching her lips, and it was clear that her sympathy for theafflicted one was greatly dampened.

  "Perhaps she intends to play spy, as she disapproves so entirely of thefeeling the townsfolk all have. Spies are well paid, so I've heard;and Aunt Penine would do anything for money." Dorothy's eyes flashed,and she stared straight ahead, pulling at her front locks in anabsent-minded way, as though she were speculating over all the mischiefher aunt might have in view.

  "She may mean nothing, after all, Dot," Mary said, after a moment'sthought. "It may be that she was only curious to know why you wereadmitted to the room, while she and all the rest of us were kept out.Still, if I were you, I'd tell my father of her listening."

  "Indeed I shall," was the emphatic reply, "and of the tea as well. Ihave a notion she got it all from Robert Jameson. You know what theytell of him; and he and Aunt Penine seem to have a deal to say to oneanother these days. She has sent Pashar to him with notes ever so manytimes, as I know; and Pashar seems to have more silver nowadays thanfather gives him, for he has, more than once, brought 'Bitha sweetsfrom the store."

  Mary nodded significantly at the mention of Robert Jameson's name. Hewas the nearest neighbor of Joseph Devereux, and had come to beregarded with distrust--enmity, indeed--by most of his formerassociates.

  He was a widower of some wealth, and had no family; and Aunt Penine hadlong been suspected of cherishing a desire to entrap him into a secondmatrimony.

  A few months before, an exceedingly complimentary, almost fulsome,address to Hutchinson, the recent Governor, had appeared in the columnsof a newspaper known as the "Essex Gazette," to which were attached thenames of some residents of the town, Jameson's amongst them. Itendorsed all that had been said in praise of his administration, and ofhis aiming only at the public good; and it asserted that such was theopinion of all thinking and dispassionate citizens.

  This manifest untruth had raised a storm of indignation. A townmeeting was held, and a committee appointed, with instructions toinform the signers of this false and malicious statement that theywould be exonerated only by making a public retraction of allsentiments contained therein; and that upon refusing to do this, theywould be denounced as enemies of the province, desiring to insult bothbranches of the legislature, and to affront the town.

  Jameson had been one of the few who refused to comply with thecommittee's demand; and he had
since been shunned as an enemy to thecause, and looked upon with suspicion and distrust.