Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas
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CHAPTER VIII.
A MAID'S DREAM AND THE DEVIL'S WOOING.
"A pleasing land of drowsyhead it was: Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, Forever flushing round a summer sky." --THOMPSON.
It was June-time in the beautiful hill country along the Eno. Down thelong road that sloped to the bridge from the west two horses took theirleisurely way, while their riders talked or were silent at will. Belowthem, in the curve of the river, lay the town in a green summer dream;the roadside was lined with nodding blossom heads, and the thickets werea-rustle now and then with the subdued whir of wings, for the songseason of their feathered tenants was done, and sparrow and wren andbluebird were busy with family cares.
"Joscelyn, you are not listening to a word I am saying," complained MarySingleton, petulantly, after repeating a question a second time andgetting no answer.
"I beg your pardon, Mary; I believe you are right."
"Of what were you thinking so intently?"
"I was not thinking. It is too delicious this afternoon to do anything,even think. I am just resting my mind."
"Well, I find you very dull under such a process."
"'A friend should bear a friend's infirmity,'" quoted Joscelyn.
"Dulness is not an infirmity; it is a crime."
"Then methinks the world must be full of criminals."
"And those who are so intentionally and voluntarily should be punishedlike other wrong-doers."
Joscelyn laughed. "Well, pass sentence upon me, most wise judge, if youthink I was not born that way and that the sin is intentional. Am I tohang for it, or will you be merciful and make it a prison offence?"
"Oh, you'll get the hanging soon enough if you go on wearing that redbodice and stringing pictures of King George on your balcony!"
"So mother says. And hanging is not a becoming way to die; one has noopportunity to say that 'prunes, prisms, and preserves' sentence thatleaves the mouth in such a charming pucker. Well, since my lips are tobe awry, I trust they will give me time to put on my new silver-buckledshoes. It would be a comfort to know that at least my feet looked theirbest."
"Joscelyn! You are perfectly horrid."
"You mean I would be without the 'prunes and prisms' expression."
Mary struck her horse and rode forward a few yards, but presently fellback again beside her companion.
"What I asked you just now related to Eustace. Do you think--"
"I said I was not thinking."
"Well, begin at once. Is there any danger that Eustace will really tryto marry Betty Clevering?"
"Danger is a wrong word, Mary. If Eustace is ever so fortunate as to winBetty, he should spend the rest of his life in thanksgiving. She is astrue as steel, and better tempered than either of us."
"I am not disparaging Betty, and I have often wished our parents werenot at outs, so that she and I might be better friends; we only meet atyour house or places of entertainment. But, Joscelyn, you know--you mustknow what we all have hoped for you and Eustace."
Joscelyn turned her eyes fully and calmly upon her companion. "Yes, Iknow. I should have been even duller than you pronounced me just now notto see through your plan. Diplomacy is not your _forte_."
"You knew I--we all wanted you to marry--"
"Eustace? Yes; he and I have often laughed over it to each other. Andnow that you have mentioned it, I want to tell you frankly that there isnot the faintest possibility of such a thing. As a friend Eustace ischarming; but as a husband--"
"Don't! Your mouth looks as if you had bitten a green persimmon."
"Well, I think with Eustace as a husband life would be all greenpersimmons, without any prunes or prisms to break the monotony. It wouldbe quite as bad on him as on me; you would make us both utterlymiserable."
"I cannot believe it. I know Eustace looks at Betty with the utmostadmiration, and manages often to meet her; but 'tis much the same waywith every pretty girl,--he must be saying sweet things to each of them.But in his heart I feel sure he prefers you above all the rest, onlyyour indifference holds him aloof. Here is a letter I had this morning,in which he devotes a whole page to happy imaginings about a soldier'swelcome home when the war shall be over. He grows really poetic aboutshy eyes and the joy of holding a white hand in his. Whom can he meanbut you?"
"Betty has shy eyes, and Janet has the whitest hands I know anywhere. Asyou said, Eustace has a roving fancy."
Mary sighed. "I intended to read the letter to you, but here we are atthe bridge, and we will now be meeting so many people."
"Give it to me; I will read it at home," Joscelyn said, stretching outher hand with sudden interest. "It would be preposterous to waste allthat sentiment on a mere sister; it takes an outsider to appreciatetouches like that. Oh, it shall be read with all the accessories of agrand passion--sighs, smiles, blushes, and suchlike incense." Shelaughed as she tucked the letter into her belt, but she did not say whothe reader would be, and Mary took much comfort in the thought that shewould appropriate the sentimental parts to herself. Whose eyes weresofter than Joscelyn's, whose hands whiter or sweeter to hold?
And so, each thinking her own thoughts, they crossed the wooden bridgethat spanned the river, the horses' hoofs making a rhythmic clatter onthe boards. In the street beyond they came upon Mistress Strudwickcarrying an uncovered basket heaped high with hanks of yarn. The roadwas a slight ascent, and the corpulent dame was puffing sorely.
"Why, Mistress Strudwick, you with such a load as that? What does thismean?" cried Joscelyn.
"It means that that little darky of mine has run away again, and thatthere'll be one less limb on my peach tree to-night when he comes back."
"Will you not take my horse and ride?"
"It's been thirty years since I was in a saddle, and I'm not honing towear a shroud."
Joscelyn leaned down, and catching the handle, lifted the basket to thepommel of her saddle. "I will not see you make yourself ill in this way.Were there no other servants to spare you this exertion? You are all outof breath."
A curious light came into the old lady's eyes as she saw the girlsteady the basket in front of her; but she checked the words that hadsprung to her lips and trudged slowly along, the riders holding backtheir horses to keep beside her.
"What have you two been plotting together this afternoon?" she asked,looking from one to the other with the pleasure age often finds incontemplating youth and beauty.
"Have we the appearance of dark conspirators?" laughed Joscelyn.
"Nay, you both look sweet and innocent enough; but somehow I'm alwaysgiving that Bible verse a twist and reading it: 'Where two or threeTories are gathered together, there is the devil in their midst.'"
"You should not twist your Scripture, Mistress Strudwick."
"Mayhap not, but sometimes it makes an uncommon good hit."
"Well, you were wrong to-day. Two Loyalists have been congregatedtogether; but Cupid, rather than the devil, has been ourco-conspirator."
"So! It was sweethearts you were discussing? Tell me now, was it yourmatch or Mary's you were arranging? There is nothing pleases me morethan a wedding."
"I thought you took no interest in matters concerning King George'ssubjects."
"King George has naught to do with the wooing of our maids; and love islove, whether it be Redcoat or Continental," replied the old matchmaker.
Joscelyn laughed. "I verily believe you'd like to know the courtship ofSatan himself, provided he had one."
"Of course he had, my dear, and a most engaging lover he made, I'll bebound, seeing he is so apt a beguiler in other things. Oh, yes,everybody knows that Satan is a married man."
"Where got he his wife?"
The old lady threw up her hands with quizzical scouting: "'Tis not setdown in the books, but it would have been just like some soft-heartedcreature to creep after him when he was exiled from heaven. And she isnot the only woman who has followed a man to perd
ition, either,--more'sthe pity!"
"You are seeing things awry to-day, Mistress Strudwick."
"Mayhap, mayhap," puffed the old lady. "I haven't much of a prophet'seye, but I see things of to-day plain enough, and I know that you are apair of uncommon pretty girls, and are like to have many a beau on yourstring; but when marrying time comes, take an old woman's advice andchoose a man who is hale and hearty, for as sure as you are born, loveflies out of the heart when indigestion enters the stomach."
"Truly, Mistress Strudwick, you are better than 'Poor Richard'sAlmanac,'" laughed Joscelyn.
"Oh, my dear, I've seen it tried. Courtship is the finest thing in theworld, but after the wedding love is largely a question of good cooking;and although you two are rank Tories, and so deserve any punishment thefates might send you, still I'd be glad, because of your comely looks,to see you escape your deserts. But here we are at my gate. I wonderwhat the town will say, Joscelyn, when they hear that you, Tory that youcall yourself, brought a basket of wool for Continental socks fromAmanda Bryce's to my door."
The girl's face flamed with a sudden heat. Then she said with thatbeautiful courtesy that older folks found so charming:--
"It was not for the Continentals, but for my good neighbour that Ibrought the basket. I am not minded to see her kill herself in so bad acause; rather do I want her to live and repent of her mistakes, that sheherself may not be the first to solve that riddle of the devil'swooing." And kissing their hands jauntily to the old woman, the twogirls rode away into the purple twilight.
"Bless her bonny face and quick tongue!" the old woman cried, waving herhand after them.
That night Mary cried herself to sleep over her shattered hopes, and inthe privacy of a white-curtained room, Joscelyn read aloud the letter toher whom Eustace had in mind when he thought of the welcome of shy eyesand clinging white hands. And Betty fell asleep with the letter underher cheek, and all the soft June night was filled with flitting cadencesand starry dreams.