CHAPTER II.
JUDGE AND DAUGHTER.
Judge Custis was the most important man in the county. He belonged tothe oldest colonial family of distinction, the Custises of Northampton,whose fortune, beginning with King Charles II. and his tavern credits inRotterdam, ended in endowing Colonel George Washington with a widow'smite. The Judge at Princess Anne was the most handsome man, the fatherof the finest family of sons and daughters, the best in estate, mostvarious in knowledge, and the most convivial of Custises.
In that region of the Eastern Shore there is so little diversity ofproductions, the ocean and the loam alone contributing to man, thatJudge Custis had an exaggerated reputation as a mineralogist.
He had begun to manufacture iron out of the bog ores found in theswamps and hummocks of a neighboring district, and, with the tastes of alandholding and slaveholding family, had erected around his furnace aconsiderable town, his own residence as proprietor conspicuous in themidst. There he spent a large part of the time, and not always in thecompany of his family, entertaining friends from the distant cities,enjoying the luxuries of terrapin, duck, and wines, and, as rumor saidin the forest, all the pleasures of a Russian or German nobleman on asecluded estate.
He could lie down on the ground with the barefooted foresters, equal andfamiliar with them, and carry off their suffrages for the State Senateor the Assembly. In Princess Anne he was more discriminating, rising inthat society to his family stature, and surrounded by alliances whichdemanded what is called "bearing." In short, he was the head of thecommunity, and his wealth, originally considerable, had been augmentedby marriage, while his credit extended to Philadelphia and Baltimore.
Not long after the occurrence of his young daughter, Vesta, placing therose in Meshach Milburn's mysterious hat, Judge Custis said to his ladyat the breakfast-table:
"That man has been allowed to shut himself in, like a dog, too long. Heowes something to this community. I'll go down to his kennel, underpretence of wanting a loan--and I do need some money for the furnace!"
He took his cane after breakfast and passed out of his large mansion,and down the sidewalk of the level street. There were, as usually, somenegroes around Milburn's small, weather-stained store, and Samson Hat,among them, shook hands with the Judge, not a particle disturbed at thelatter's condescension.
"Judge," said Samson, looking that large, portly gentleman over, "you'sea _good_ man yet. But de flesh is a little soft in yo' muscle, Judge."
"Ah! Samson," answered Custis, "there's one old fellow that is wrastlingyou."
"Time?" said the negro; "we can't fight him, sho! Dat's a fack! But I'mgood as any man in Somerset now."
"Except my daughter's boy, the class-leader from Talbot."
"Is dat boy in yo' family," exclaimed Samson, kindling up. "I'll walkdar if he'll give me another throw."
The Judge passed into the wide-open door of Meshach Milburn's store. Afew negroes and poor whites were at the counter, and Meshach wasmeasuring whiskey out to them by the cheap dram in exchange forcoonskins and eggs. He looked up, just a trifle surprised at theprincipal man's advent, and merely said, without nodding:
"'Morning!"
Judge Custis never flinched from anybody, but his intelligencerecognized in Meshach's eyes a kind of nature he had not yet met, thoughhe was of universal acquaintance. It was not hostility, nor welcome, norindifference. It was not exactly spirit. As nearly as the Judge couldformulate it, the expression was habitual self-reliance, and if nothabitual suspicion, the feeling most near it, which comes from consciousunpopularity.
"Mr. Milburn," said Judge Custis, "when you are at leisure let me have afew words with you."
The storekeeper turned to the poor folks in his little area and remarkedto them bluntly:
"You can come back in ten minutes."
They all went out without further command. Milburn closed the door. TheJudge moved a chair and sat down.
"Milburn," he said, dropping the formal "mister," "they tell me you lendmoney, and that you charge well for it. I am a borrower sometimes, and Ibelieve in keeping interest at home in our own community. Will youdiscount my note at legal interest?"
"Never," replied Meshach.
"Then," said the Judge, smiling, "you'll put me to some inconvenience."
"That's more than legal interest," answered Milburn, sturdily. "You'llpay the legal interest where you go, and the inconvenience of going willcost something too. If you add your expenses as liberally as you incurthem when you go to Baltimore, to legal interest, you are always payinga good shave."
"Where you have risks," suggested the Judge, "there is some reason for aheavy discount, but my property will enrich this county and all the landyou hold mortgages on."
"Bog ore!" muttered the money-lender. "I never lent money on that kindof risk. I must read upon it! They say manufacturing requires mechanicaltalent. How much do you want?"
"Three thousand."
"Secured upon the furnace?"
"Yes."
Meshach computed on a piece of paper, and the Judge, with easycuriosity, studied his singular face and figure.
He was rather short and chunky, not weighing more than one hundred andthirty pounds, with long, fine fingers of such tracery and separateaction that every finger seemed to have a mind and function of its own.Looking at his hands only, one would have said: "There is here apianist, a penman, a woman of definite skill, or a man of peculiardelicacy." All the fingers were well produced, as if the hand instead ofthe face was meant to be the mind's exponent and reveal its portraitthere.
Yet the face of Meshach Milburn, if more repellent, was uncommon.
The effects of one long diet and one climate, invariable, fromgeneration to generation, and both low and uninvigorating, had broughtto nearly aboriginal form and lines his cheek-bones, hair, and resinousbrown eyes. From the cheek-bones up he looked like an Indian, andexpressed a stolid power and swarthiness. Below, there dropped a largeface, in proportion, with nothing noticeable about it except the nose,which was so straight, prominent, and complete, and its nostrils sosensitive, that only the nose upon his face seemed to be good companyfor his hands. When he confronted one, with his head thrown back alittle, his brown eyes staring inquiry, and his nose almost sentient,the effect was that of a hostile savage just burst from the woods.
That was his condition indeed.
"Look at him in the eyes," said the town-bred, "he's all forester!"
"But look at his hand," added some few observant ones.
Ah! who had ever shaken that hand?
It was now extended to the Judge and he took from its womanly fingersthe terms of the loan. Judge Custis was surprised at the moderation ofMeshach, and he looked up cheerfully into that ever sentinel face onwhich might have been printed "_qui vive?_"
"It's not the goodness of the security," said Meshach, "I make it low toyou, socially!"
The Custis pride started with a flush to the Judge's eyes, to have thisostracised and hooted Shylock intimate that their relations could bemore than a prince's to a pawnbroker. But the Judge was a politician,with an adaptable mind and address.
"Speaking of social things, Milburn," he said, carelessly, "our town isnot so large that we don't all see each other sometimes. Why do you wearthat forlorn, unsightly hat?"
"Why do you wear the name _Custis?_"
"Oh, I inherited that!"
"And I inherited my hat."
There was a pause for a minute, but before the Judge could tell whetherit was an angry or an awkward pause, the storekeeper said:
"Judge Custis, I concede that you are the best bred man in PrincessAnne. Where did you get authority to question another person about anydecent article of his attire?"
"I stand corrected, Milburn," said the Judge. "Good feeling for you morethan curiosity made me suggest it. And I may also remark to you, sir,that when you lend me money you will always do it commercially and not_socially_."
"Very well," remarked Meshach Milburn, "and if I ever e
nter your door, Iwill then take off my hat."
* * * * *
The next morning Meshach Milburn surprised Samson Hat by saying: "Boy,when you have another fight and make yourself a barbarian again,remember to bring back, from Nassawongo furnace, about a peck of the bogores!"
* * * * *
The years moved on without much change in Princess Anne. The littleManokin river brought up oysters from the bay, and carried off the cornand produce. The great brick academy at neighboring "Lower Trappe"boarded and educated the brightest youths of the best families on thePeninsula; and these perceived, as the annual summers brought theirfulness, what portion of their beauty remained with Vesta Custis. Shewas like Helen of Troy, a subject of homage and dispute in childhood,and became a woman, in men's consideration, almost imperceptibly. Sentto Baltimore to be educated, her return was followed by suitors--notyouthful admirers only, but mature ones--and the young men of thePeninsula remarked with chagrin: "None of us have a chance! Some greatcity nabob will get her."
But the academy boys and visitors, and the townspeople, had one commonopportunity to see her and to hear her--when she sang, every Sabbath andchurch day, in the Episcopal church.
Her voice was the natural expression of her beauty--sweet, powerful,free, and easily trained. A divine bird seemed hidden in the old churchwhen this noble yet tender voice broke forth; but they who turned to seethe singer who had made such Paradise, looked almost on Eve herself.
She was rather slight, tall, and growing fuller slowly every year, likeone in whom growth was early, yet long, and who would wholly mature notuntil near middle life. Her head, however, was perfection, even ingirlhood, not less by its proportions than its carriage: her gracefulfigure bore it like the slender setting, holding up the first splendorof the peach; a head of vital and spiritual beauty, where purity andluxuriance, woman and mind, dwelt in harmony and joy. As she seemed everto be ripening, so she seemed never to have been a child, but, withfaculties and sense clear and unintimidated, she was never wanting inmodesty, nor accused of want of self-possession. Judge Custis made herhis reliance and pride; she never reproved his errors, nor treated themfamiliarly, but settled the household by a consent which all paid to hercharacter alone. More than once she had appeared at the furnace mansionwhen the Judge's long absence had awakened some jealousy or distrust:
"Father, please go home with me! I want you to drive me back."
The easy, self-indulgent Judge would look a slight protest, but at thesoft, spirited command; "Come, sir! you can't stay here any more,"dismissed his companions, and took his place at the head of PrincessAnne society.
Vesta was almost a brunette, with the rich colors of her type--eyebrowslike the raven's wing, ripe, red lips, and hair whose darkness andlength, released from the crown into which she wound it, might have spunher garments. Her eyes were of a steel-blue, in which the lights had theeffect of black. She was dark with sky breaking through, like the richdusk and twilights over the Chesapeake.
People wondered that, with such beauty, ease, and accomplishments shewas not proud; but her pride was too ethereal to be seen. It was not thevain consciousness of gifts and endowments, but the serene sense ofworthiness, of unimpaired health, honor, and descent, which made herkind and thoughtful to a degree only less than piety. Grateful for hersocial rank and parentage, she adorned but did not forget them. Thesuitors who came for her were weighed in this scale of perfectdesert--to be sons of such parents and associates of her married sistersand sisters-in-law. Not one had survived the test, yet none knew wherehe failed.
"Vesta is too good for any of them," exclaimed the Judge, on more thanone occasion. "When I get the furnace in such shape that it will runitself I will take my daughter to Europe and give her a musicaleducation."
In truth, the Judge had expectations of his daughter; for the reputationhe had attained as a manufacturer was not without its drawbacks. Hemaintained two establishments; he supported a large body of laborers anddependents, some of whom he had brought from distant places undercontract; the experiment in which he had embarked was still anexperiment, and he was subject to the knowledge and judgment of hismanager, being himself rather the patron than the manufacturer at theworks. Many days, when he was supposed to be testing the percentage andmixture of his ores, he was gunning off on the ocean bars, crabbing onWhollop's Beach, or hunting up questionable company among the forestgirls, or around the oystermen's or wrecker's cabins. He had plenty ofproperty and family endorsers, however, and seldom failed to have asatisfactory interview with Meshach Milburn, who was now assisting him,at least once a quarter, to keep both principal and interest at home.
The Judge had grown thicker with Meshach, but the storekeeper merelylistened and assented, and took no pains to incur another criticism onhis motives. Meshach wore his great hat, as ever, to church and onfestive days, and it was still derided, and held to be the town wonder.Vesta Custis often saw the odd little man come into church while she wassinging, and she fancied that his large, coarse ears were turned toreceive the music she was making, and she faintly remembered that onceshe had held in her hands that wonderful hat with its copper buckle inthe band, and stiff, wide brim, flowing in a wave. More than that sheknew nothing, except that the wearer was an humble-born, graspingcreature--a forester without social propensities, or, indeed, any humanattachments. The negro who abode under his roof was beloved, compared tothe sordid master, and all testimony concurred that Meshach Milburndeserved neither commiseration, friendship, nor recognition. Her father,however, indulgent in all things, said the money-lender had a good mind,and was no serf.
Milburn had ceased to deal with negroes or dispense drams. His wealthwas now known to be more than considerable. He had ceased, also, to lendmoney on the surrounding farms, and rumors came across the bay that hewas a holder of stocks and mortgages on the Western Shore, and inBaltimore and Pennsylvania. The little town of Princess Anne was full ofspeculations about him, and even his age was uncertain; Jack Wonnell hadmeasured it by hats. Said Jack:
"I bought my bell-crowns the year ole Milburn's daddy and mammy died.They died of the bilious out yer in Nassawongo, within a few days ofeach other. Now, I wear two bell-crowns a year. I come out every Fourthof July and Christmas. 'Tother day I counted what was left, and Ireckoned that Meshach couldn't be forty-five at the wust."
Vesta Custis was only twenty years old when the townsfolk thought shemust be twenty-five, so long had she been the beauty of Somerset. Hermother had always looked with apprehension on the possible time when herdaughter would marry and leave her; for Judge Custis had long ceased tohave the full confidence of his lady, whose fortune he had embarkedwithout return on ventures still in doubt, and he always waived thesubject when it was broached, or remarked that no loss was possible inhis hands while Mrs. Custis lived.