CHAPTER VI.
LIZZIE'S LOVER.
"Fond girl! no saint nor angel he Who wooes thy young simplicity; But one of earth's impassioned sons, As warm in love, as fierce in ire, As the best heart whose current runs Full of the day-god's living fire." FIRE WORSHIPERS.
The inn of St. Mark's was an old, brown, wooden house, with huge,unpainted shutters, and great oak doors, that in summer lay alwaysinvitingly open. It stood in the center of the village, with the foreststretching away behind, and the beach spreading out in front. Over thedoor swung a huge signboard, on which some rustic artist had endeavoredto paint an eagle, but which, unfortunately, more closely resembled afrightened goose.
Within the "Eagle," as it was generally called, everything wasspotlessly neat and clean; for the landlord's pretty daughter was thetidiest of housewives. The huge, oaken door in front, directly under theabove-mentioned signboard, opened into the bar-room, behind the counterof which the worthy host sat, in his huge leathern chair, from "earlymorn till dewy eve." Another door, at the farther end, opened into the"big parlor," the pine floor of which was scrubbed as white as humanhands could make it; and the two high, square windows at either endabsolutely glittered with cleanliness. The wooden chairs were polishedtill they shone, and never blazed a fire on a cleaner swept hearth thanthat which now roared up the wide fire-place of the "Eagle."
It was a gusty January night. The wind came raw and cold over thedistant hills, now rising fierce and high, and anon dying away in low,moaning sighs among the shivering trees. On the beach the waves cametramping inward, their dull, hollow voices booming like distant thunderon the ear.
But within the parlor of the "Eagle" the mirth and laughter were loudand boisterous. Gathered around the blazing fire, drinking, smoking,swearing, arguing, were fifteen or twenty men--drovers, farmers,fishermen, and loafers.
"This yer's what _I_ calls comfortable," said a lusty drover, as heraised a foaming mug of ale to his lips and drained it to the last drop.
"I swan to man if it ain't a rouser of a night," said a rathergood-looking young fellow, dressed in the coarse garb of a fisherman, asa sudden gust of wind and hail came driving against the windows.
"Better here than out on the bay to-night, eh, Jim?" said the drover,turning to the last speaker.
"Them's my sentiments," was the reply, as Jim filled his pipe.
"I reckon Jim hain't no objection to stayin' anywhere where Cassie is,"remarked another, dryly.
"Who's taking my name in vain here?" called a clear, ringing voice, as ayoung girl, of some eighteen years of age, entered. Below the middlesize, plump and round, with merry, black eyes, a complexion decidedlybrown, full, red lips, overflowing with fun and good-nature--such wasCassie Fox, the pretty little hostess of the "Eagle."
Before any one could reply, an unusual noise in the bar-room fell upontheir ears. The next moment, Sally, the black maid-of-all-work, cameinto the "big parlor," with mouth and eyes agape.
"Laws, misses," she said, addressing Cassie, "dar's a gemman--a ralebig-bug--out'n de bar-room; a 'spectable, 'sponsible, 'greeable gemman,powerful hansom, wid brack eyes an' har, an' a carpet-bag!"
"Sakes alive!" ejaculated Cassie, dropping the tray, and turning to thelooking-glass; "he's handsome, and--_my hair's awfully mussed_!Gracious! what brings him here, Sally?"
"Got cotch in de storm; 'deed he did, chile--heard him tell marse so myown blessed self."
"Goodness!" again ejaculated the little hostess. "I'm all in aflusterfication. Handsome! dear, dear!--my hair's all out of curl! Blackeyes!--I must unpin my dress. Nice hair! Jim Loker, take your legs outof the fire, nobody wants you to make andirons of 'em."
"Cass! Cass, I say! Come here, you Cass!" called the voice of mine hostfrom the bar-room.
Cassie bustled out of the room and entered the bar. Old Giles Fox stoodrespectfully before the stranger, a young man wrapped in a cloak, talland handsome, with a sort of dashing, reckless air, that well becamehim.
"Here, Cass," said her father, "this gentleman's going to stay allnight. Show him into the best room, and get supper ready. Be spry, now."
"Yes, sir," said Cassie, demurely, courtesying before the handsomestranger, who glanced half carelessly, half admiringly, at her prettyface. "This way, sir, if you please."
The stranger followed her into the parlor, and encountered the batteryof a score of eyes fixed full upon him. He paused in the doorway andglanced around.
"Beg pardon," he said, in the refined tone of a gentleman, "but Ithought this room was unoccupied. Can I not have a private apartment?"he added, turning to Cassie.
"Oh, yes, to be sure," replied the little hostess; "step this way, sir,"and Cassie ran up-stairs, followed by the new-comer, whose dark eyes hadalready made a deep impression in the susceptible heart of Cassie.
He threw himself into a chair before the fire and fixed his eyesthoughtfully on the glowing coals. Cassie, having placed his drippingcloak before the fire to dry, ran down stairs, where he could distinctlyhear her shrill voice giving hasty orders to the servants.
Supper was at length brought in by Cassie, and the stranger fell to withthe readiness of one to whom a long journey has given an appetite.
"There," he said at last, pushing back his chair. "I think I have donejustice to your cookery, my dear--Cassie--isn't that what they callyou?"
"Yes, sir; after Cassiopia, who was queen in furrin parts long ago.Efiofia, I think, was the name of the place," said Cassie, complacently.
"What?" said the stranger, repressing a laugh. "What do you say was thename of the place?"
"Efiofia!" repeated Cassie, with emphasis.
"Ethiopia! Oh, I understand! And who named you after that fair queen,who now resides among the stars?"
"Mother, of course, before she died," replied the namesake of thatEthiopian queen. "She read about her in some book, and named meaccordingly."
The stranger smiled, and fixed his eyes steadily on the complacent faceof Cassie, with an expression of mingled amusement and curiosity. Therewas a moment's pause, and then he asked:
"And what sort of place is St. Mark's--I mean, what sort of people arethere in it?"
"Oh, pretty nice," replied Cassie; "most all like those you saw downstairs in the parlor."
"But, I mean the gentry."
"Oh, the big-bugs. Well, yes, there is some of 'em here. First, there'sthe squire----"
"Squire who?" interrupted the stranger, with a look of interest.
"Squire Erliston, of course; he lives up there in a place called MountSunset."
"Yes?" said the young man, inquiringly.
"Yes," repeated Cassiopia, "with his daughter, Miss Lizzie."
"Has he only one daughter?"
"That's all, now. He had two; but Miss Esther ran off with a wild youngfellow, an' I've hearn tell as how they were both dead, poor things! Sopowerful handsome as they were too--'specially him."
"And Miss Lizzie?"
"Oh, yes. Well, you see she ain't married--she's more sense. She's awfulpretty, too, though she ain't a mite like Miss Esther was. Laws, shemight have bin married dozens of times, I'm sure, if she'd have all thegents who want her. She's only been home for two or three months; shewas off somewhere to boardin'-school to larn to play the pianner andmake picters and sich."
"And the papa of these interesting damsels, what is he like?" inquiredthe young man.
"He?--sakes alive! Why, he's the ugliest-tempered, crossest,hatefullest, disagreeablest old snapping-turtle ever you saw. He's ascross as two sticks, and as savage as a bear with a sore head. My starsand garters! I'd sooner run a mile out of my way than meet him in thestreet."
"Whew! pleasant, upon my word! Are all your country magnates as amiableas Squire Erliston?"
"There ain't many more, 'cepting Doctor Nick Wiseman, and that queer oldwitch, Miss Hagar."
"Has he any grown-up daughters?" inquired the stranger, carelessly.
Cassie paused, and reg
arded him with a peculiar look for an instant.
"Ahem!" she said, after a pause. "No; he's a widderer, with only onechild, a daughter, 'bout nine months old, and a nevvy a year or soolder. No, there ain't no young ladies--I mean real ladies--in thevillage, 'cept Miss Lizzie Erliston."
He paid no attention to the meaning tone in which this was spoken, andafter lingering a few moments longer, Cassie took her leave, inwardlywondering who the handsome and inquisitive stranger could be.
"Praps this'll tell," said Cassie, as she lifted the stranger'sportmanteau, and examined it carefully for name and initials. "Here itis, I declare!" she exclaimed, as her eyes fell on the letters "B. O.,"inscribed on the steel clasp. "B. O. I wonder what them stands for! 'BO' _bo_. Shouldn't wonder if he was a beau. Sakes alive! what can hisname be and what can he want? Well, I ain't likely to tell anybody,'cause I don't know myself. 'Has he got any grown-up darters?'" shemuttered, as the young man's question came again to her mind. "Maybehe's a fortin' hunter. I've hern tell o' sich. Well, I hope Miss Lizziewon't have anything to do with him if he is, and go throw herself awayon a graceless scamp like Miss Esther did. Well, I guess, if he goescourtin' there, old Thunderclap will be in his wool, and--O, massy onus!--if that Sally hain't let the fire go dead out, while I was talkin'up-stairs with 'B. O.' Little black imp! won't I give it to her?"
The morning after the storm dawned clear and cold. All traces of thepreceding night's tempest had passed away, and the sun shone forthbrightly in a sky of clear, cloudless blue.
The handsome young stranger stood in the bar-room of the "Eagle," gazingfrom the open door at the bay, sparkling and flashing in the sun'slight, and dotted all over with fishing-boats. Behind the counter satworthy Giles Fox, smoking his pipe placidly. From the interior of thebuilding came at intervals the voice of Cassie, scolding right and leftat "You Sally" and "little black imp."
Suddenly the stranger beheld, emerging from a forest path on the rightof the inn, a gentleman on horseback. He rode slowly, and the strangerobserved that all the villagers he encountered saluted him respectfully,the men pulling off their hats, the women dropping profound courtesies,and the children, on their way to school, by scampering in evident alarmacross meadows and fields.
As he drew rein before the inn-door, the stranger drew back. The oldgentleman entered and approached the bar.
"Good-morning, Giles," he said, addressing the proprietor of the "Eagle"in a patronizing tone.
"Good-morning, squire--good-morning, sir. Fine day after the storm lastnight," said the host, rising.
"Great deal of damage done last night--great deal," said the old man,speaking rapidly, as was his custom: "one or two of the fishermen's hutsdown by the shore washed completely away. Yes, _sir--r_! Careless fools!Served 'em right. Always said it would happen--_I_ knew it. 'Comingevents cast their shadows afore,' as Solomon says."
The young stranger stepped forward and stood before him.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, with a slight bow; "have I the honor ofaddressing Squire Erliston?"
"Yes, yes--to be sure you have; that's me. Yes, _sir_. Who're you,eh?--who're you?" said the squire, staring at him with his round, bulleteyes.
"If Squire Erliston will glance over this, it will answer his question,"said the young man, presenting a letter.
The squire held the letter in his hand, and stared at him a momentlonger; then wiped his spectacles and adjusted them upon his nose,opened the letter, and began to read.
The stranger stood, in his usual careless manner, leaning against thecounter, and watched him during its perusal.
"Lord bless me!" exclaimed the squire, as he finished the letter. "Soyou're the son of my old friend, Oranmore? Who'd think it? You weren'tthe size of a well-grown pup when I saw you last. And you're his son?Well, well! Give us your hand. 'Who knows what a day may bring forth?'as Solomon says. I'd as soon have thought of seeing the Khan of Tartaryhere as you. Oranmore's son! Well, well, well! You're his very image--atrifle better-looking. And you're Barry Oranmore? When did you come,eh?--when did you come?"
"Last night, sir."
"Last night, in all the storm? Bless my soul! Why didn't you come up toMount Sunset? Eh, sir? Why didn't you come?"
"Really, sir, I feared----"
"Pooh!--pshaw!--nonsense!--no, you did not. 'Innocence is bold; but theguilty flee-eth when no one pursues,' as Solomon says. What were youafraid of? S'pose everybody told you I was a demon incarnate--confoundtheir impudence! But I ain't; no, _sir_! 'The devil's not as black ashe's painted,' as Solomon says--or if he didn't say it, he ought to."
"Indeed, sir, I should be sorry to think of my father's old friend inany such way, I beg to assure you."
"No, you won't--haven't time. Come up to Mount Sunset--come, right off!Must, sir--no excuse; Liz'll be delighted to see you. Come--come--comealong!"
"Since you insist upon it, squire, I shall do myself the pleasure ofaccepting your invitation."
"Yes, yes--to be sure you will!" again interrupted the impatient squire."Bless my heart!--and you're little Barry. Well, well!"
"I am Barry, certainly," said the young man, smiling; "but whether theadjective 'little' is well applied or not, I feel somewhat doubtful. Ihave a dim recollection of measuring some six feet odd inches when Ileft home."
"Ha, ha, ha!--to be sure! to be sure!" laughed the lusty old squire."Little!--by Jove! you're a head and shoulders taller than I am myself.Yes, sir--true as gospel. 'Bad weeds grow fast,' as Solomon says. Lord!_won't_ my Liz be astonished, though?"
"I hope your daughter is quite well, squire."
"Well!--you'd better believe it. My daughter is _never_ sick. No, sir;got too much sense--specially Liz. Esther always _was_ a simpleton--ranaway, and all that, before she was out of her bibs and tuckers. Bothdied--knew they would. 'The days of the transgressors shall be short onthe earth,' as Solomon says. But Liz has got her eye-teeth cut. Smartgirl, my Liz."
"I anticipate great pleasure in making the acquaintance of MissErliston," said Oranmore, carelessly; "her beauty and accomplishmentshave made her name familiar to me long ago."
"Yes, yes, Liz is good-looking--deucedly good-looking; very like what Iwas at her age. Ah, you're laughing, you rascal! Well, I dare say I'm nobeauty _now_; but never mind that at present. 'Handsome is as handsomedoes,' as Solomon says. Come, get your traps and come along. Giles, flyround--we're in a hurry."
Thus adjured, Giles kindly consented to "fly round." All was soon ready;and, after giving orders to have his portmanteau sent after him, youngOranmore mounted his horse, and, accompanied by the squire, rode offtoward Mount Sunset Hall, the squire enlivening the way by numerousquotations from Solomon.
On reaching the Hall, his host ushered him into the parlor, where,seated at the piano, was the squire's daughter, Lizzie, singing, by somesingular coincidence:
"There's somebody coming to marry me-- There's somebody coming to woo."
Whether Miss Lizzie had seen that _somebody_ coming through the window,I cannot say.
She rose abruptly from her seat as they entered, exclaiming:
"Oh, papa! I'm so glad you have come."
Then, seeing the stranger, she drew back with the prettiest affectationof embarrassment in the world.
Lizzie Erliston was pretty--decidedly pretty--with a little round,graceful figure, snowy complexion, rosebud lips, and sparkling,vivacious blue eyes. Graceful, thoughtless, airy, dressy, and a mostfinished flirt was little Lizzie.
"Mr. Oranmore, my daughter Liz; Liz, Mr. Oranmore, son of my old friend.Fact! Hurry up breakfast now--I'm starving."
"I am delighted to welcome the son of papa's friend." said Lizzie,courtesying to the handsome stranger, who returned the salutation witheasy gallantry.
Breakfast was brought in, and the trio, together with worthy Mrs.Gower, were soon seated around the table.
"I am afraid, Mr. Oranmore, you will find it very dull here, after beingaccustomed to the gayety of city life. Our village is the quietest placein the wo
rld."
"Dull!" repeated Oranmore. "Did angels ever condescend to dwell on thisearth. I should say they had taken up their abode in St. Mark's."
He fixed his large dark eyes on her face, and bowed with a look of suchardent yet respectful admiration as he spoke, that Lizzie blushed"celestial, rosy red," and thought it the prettiest speech she had everheard.
"Fudge!" grunted the squire.
"Ah, Mr. Oranmore, I see you are a sad flatterer," said the little lady,smilingly, buttering another roll.
"Not so, Miss Erliston. Dare I speak what I think, I should indeed bedeemed a flatterer," replied Oranmore, gallantly.
"Bah!" muttered the squire, with a look of intense disgust.
At this moment a child's shrill screams resounded in one of the roomsabove, growing louder and louder each moment.
"There--that's Aurora! Just listen to the little wretch!" exclaimedLizzie. "That child will be the death of us yet, with her horrid yells.Her lungs must be made of cast-iron, or something harder, for she isincessantly screaming."
The Squire darted an angry look at Mrs. Gower, who faltered out: She wasvery sorry--that she had told Totty to be sure and keep her quiet--thatshe didn't know what was the matter, she was sure----
"Ring the bell!" said the squire, savagely cutting her short. Thesummons was answered by the little darkey, Totty.
"Well, Totty, what's the matter?" said Lizzie. "Don't you hear the babysqualling there like a little tempest? Why don't you attend to her?"
"Lor! Miss Lizzie, 'twan't none o' my fault--'deed 'twan't," said thelittle darkey. "Miss Roarer's a-roarin' 'cause she can't put her feet inde sugar-bowl. 'Deed I can't 'vent her, to save my precious life. Nobodycan't do nothing wid dat 'ar little limb."
"I'll do something to _you_ you won't like if you don't make her stop!"said the angry squire. "Be off with you now; and, if I hear anotherword, I'll--I'll twist your neck for you!"
"Marse, I declare I can't stop her," said Totty, dodging in alarm towardthe door.
"Be off!" thundered the squire, in a rage, hurling a hot roll at theblack head of Totty, who adroitly dodged and vanished instanter.
"Of all diabolical inventions, young ones are the worst!" snappishlyexclaimed Squire Erliston, bringing down his fist on the table. "Pests!plagues! abominations! Mrs. Gower, ma'am, if you don't give it asleeping draught when it takes to yelling, I'll--I'll--I'll----"
"By the way, Mr. Oranmore, as you are from the city," broke in Lizzie,"perhaps you may have heard of some one there who has lost a child?"
"What--what did you say?--a child?" exclaimed Oranmore, starting sosuddenly and looking so wild, that all looked at him in surprise.
"Yes. But, dear me, how pale you look! Are you ill?"
"Ill! Oh, no; pray go on," said Oranmore, recovering himself by aneffort.
"Well; last Christmas eve, Mrs. Gower was returning from the city,where she had been to make purchases, and taking the shore road, pickedup an infant on the beach, and brought it home. It is a wonder noinquiries were made about it."
Barry Oranmore breathed freely again. It could not be _his_ child, forhe had seen the nurse before leaving the city; and she, fearing to loseher annuity, had told him the child was alive and well: therefore itmust be another.
A week passed rapidly away at Sunset Hall. There were sails on the bay,and rides over the hills, and shady forest walks, and drives through thevillage, and long romantic rambles in the moonlight. And Lizzie Erlistonwas in love. Was _he_? She thought so sometimes when his deep, dark eyeswould rest on her, and fill with softest languor as they wandered sideby side. But, then, had she not discovered his restlessness, his evidentlonging to be away, though he still remained? Something in his conductsaddened and troubled her; for she loved him as devotedly as it was inthe power of a nature essentially shallow and selfish to love. But thedangerous spell of his voice and smile threw a glamour over her senses.She could almost have loved his very faults, had she known them. And,yielding herself to that witching spell, Lizzie Erliston, who had oftencaught others, at last found herself caught.