CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW SECRETARY
"Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I flee....
"Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore. I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more."
The rich notes rang higher and higher, filling the languid air, anddrowning the trill of the mockingbirds. Patricia, filling her apron withmidsummer flowers, sang with a careless passion, her mind far away inthe midst of a Whitehall pageant, described to her the night before bythat silver-tongued courtier, Sir Charles Carew.
Still singing, she went up the steps of the porch and into the cool widehall. In her face there was a languorous beauty born of the sunshineoutside; a soft color glowed in her cheeks, her eyes were large anddreamy, little damp tendrils of gold strayed about her temples. Shethrew down her hat, and loosened the kerchief of delicate lawn fromabout her warm young throat; then, with the flowers still in her arms,she raised the latch of the door of a room held sacred to ColonelVerney, and entered, to find herself face to face with the convict,Godfrey Landless, who sat at a table covered with papers, busilywriting.
She started violently, and the mass of flowers fell to the floor,shattering the petals from the roses and poppies. Landless came forward,knelt down, and, picking them up, restored them to her without a word.
"I thank you," she said coldly. "I thought my father was here."
"Colonel Verney is in the next room, madam."
She moved to the door leading into the great room with the gait of aprincess, and Landless went back to his work.
Colonel Verney, on his knees before the richly carven chest containinghis library, looked up from the two score volumes to behold a mass ofbrilliant blooms transferred from two white arms to the ground outsidethe open window.
"Well, sweetheart," he said. "What is it?"
"Papa," she said, coming to his side, and looking down upon him with avexed face; "you promised me that you would employ no more convicts inthe house."
"Why, so I did, my dear," answered her father, comfortably seatinghimself upon "Purchas: His Pilgrimmes." "And I meant to keep my word,but this is the way of it. The day after you went to Rosemead with BettyCarrington, down comes young Shaw with the fever, and has to be senthome to his mother. His illness came at a precious inconvenient season,for the gout was in my fingers again, and I was bent on disappointingWilliam Berkeley, who hath wagered a thousand pounds of sweet scentedthat my 'Statement of the Evil Wrought by the Navigation Laws to HisMajesty's Colony of Virginia' won't be finished in time for the sailingof the God-Speed. So I told Woodson to find me some one among the menwho knew how to write. He brought me this fellow, and I vow he is animprovement on young Shaw. He doesn't ask questions, and he is a verypretty Latinist. The paper will be finished to-day. I was but searchingfor a neat quotation to close with. Then the fellow will go back to thetobacco, and you will be no longer annoyed by his presence in the house.Now kiss me, sweet chuck, and begone, for I am busied upon affairs ofstate."
Left alone, Colonel Verney pored over his books until he found what hewanted, when, after rearranging his library in the carved chest, he rosestiffly to his feet, and went into the next room and up to thewriting-table. Landless rose from his seat, and, resigning it to hismaster, stood gravely by while the Colonel looked over the manuscriptupon which he had been employed.
"Ha!" said the Colonel. "A very fair copy! You have numbered and headedthe pages, I observe. Let me see, let me see, let me see," and he ranthem over between his fingers. "Oppressive Nature of the Act.--GraveDissatisfaction.--It advantageth No One save Small Traders atHome.--Increase of Revenue to His Majesty if 't were repealed.--DutchBottoms.--Trade with Russia.--His Majesty's Poor Planters ThrowThemselves upon His Majesty's Mercy. Very good, very good!"
"It is nigh finished, sir," said Landless.
"Ay, ay! By the Lord Harry, William Berkeley will repent his wager! Apretty paper it is, and containeth many excellent points and much goodLatin, and you have copied it fairly and cleanly. It is a pity, my man,"he added not unkindly, "that you should have lived so evilly as tobring yourself to this pass, for you have in you the making of anexcellent secretary."
"Is it your will, sir, that I finish the copy now?"
"Yes, but take it to the small table within the window there. I myselfwill sit here and jot down some ideas for my dedication which you canafterwards amplify."
The worthy colonel pulled the big Turkey worked chair closer to thetable, turned back his ruffles and fell to work. Landless retired to thetable within the window, and for a while naught was heard in the quietroom but the scratching of quills, as master and man drove them acrossthe whitey-brown sheets.
At length the master pushed his chair back and stretched himself with aprodigious yawn. "The Lord be thanked!" he said, addressing the air."That's done! And it is time to see to the dressing of that sore uponPrince Rupert's shoulder; and I remember Haines said that one of thehounds had been gored by Carrington's bull. Haines can't dress a wound.Haines is a bungler. But, by the Lord Harry! Richard Verney is as good aveterinary as he is a statesman."
He lifted his burly figure from the depths of the chair, and going overto Landless, dropped upon the table before him a page of hieroglyphicsfor him to decipher at his leisure. Then with another word ofcommendation for the beauty of the copy, he walked heavily from theroom. A moment later Landless heard him whistle to his dogs, and thenbreak into a stave of a cavalier drinking song, sung at the top of afull manly voice, and dying away in the direction of the stables.
Landless' hand moved to and fro across the paper with a tirelesspatience. He did not go back to the central table, for the light wasbetter in the window, and a vagrant breath of air strayed in now andthen. The window was a deep one, and heavy drugget curtains hung betweenit and the rest of the room.
The door opened and a man's voice said: "This room is darkened intodelicious coolness. Shall we try it, cousin?"
Patricia entered like a sunbeam, and after her sauntered Sir CharlesCarew, languid, debonair, and perfectly appareled.
Landless, seeing them plainly, did not realize that in the shadow of theheavy curtains he was himself unseen. He had grown so accustomed to thequiet insolence that overlooks the presence of an inferior as it doesthat of any other article of furniture, that he did not doubt that thefine lady and gentleman before him were perfectly aware of the presencein the room of the slave whom his master's caprice had raised for themoment to the post of secretary. It was some few minutes before he beganto consider within himself that he might be mistaken.
Prisoners of Hope: A Tale of Colonial Virginia Page 8
