WYNADOTTÉ (Unabridged). Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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will satisfy even your military appetite!”
“It looks well, indeed, Maud—and there, I perceive, are some of Beulah’s excellent plums, of which I am so fond—know they were made especially for me, and I must kiss you, sister, for this proof of remembrance.”
Beulah, to whose simple mind it seemed injustice to appropriate credit that belonged to another, was about to tell the truth; but an imploring gesture from her sister induced her to smile, and receive the salute in silence.
“Has any one seen captain Willoughby and parson Woods this morning?” inquired the major. “I left them desperately engaged in discussion, and I really feel some apprehension as to the remains left on the field of battle.”
“Here they both come,” cried Maud, glad to find the discourse taking so complete a change; “and there is mamma, followed by Pliny, to tell Beulah to take her station at the coffee, while I go to the chocolate, leaving the tea to the only hand that can make it so that my father will drink it.”
The parties mentioned entered the room, in the order named; the usual salutations followed, and all took their seats at table. Captain Willoughby was silent and thoughtful at first, leaving his son to rattle on, in a way that betokened care, in his view of the matter, quite as much as it betokened light-heartedness in those of his mother and sisters. The chaplain was rather more communicative than his friend; but he, too, seemed restless, and desirous of arriving at some point that was not likely to come uppermost, in such a family party. At length, the impulses of Mr. Woods got the better of his discretion, even, and he could conceal his thoughts no longer.
“Captain Willoughby,” he said, in a sort of apologetic, and yet simple and natural manner, “I have done little since we parted, seven hours since, but think of the matter under discussion.”
“If you have, my dear Woods, there has been a strong sympathy between us; I have scarcely slept. I may say I have thought of nothing else, myself, and am glad you have broached the subject, again.”
“I was about to say, my worthy sir, that reflection, and my pillow, and your sound and admirable arguments, have produced an entire change in my sentiments. I think, now, altogether with you.”
“The devil you do, Woods!” cried the captain, looking up from his bit of dry toast, in astonishment. “Why, my dear fellow—this is odd—excessively odd, if the truth must be said.—To own the real state of the case, chaplain, you have won me over, and I was just about to make proper acknowledgments of your victory!”
It need scarcely be added that the rest of the company were not a little amazed at these cross-concessions, while Maud was exceedingly amused. As for Mrs. Willoughby, nothing laughable ever occurred in connection with her husband; and then she would as soon think of assailing the church itself, as to ridicule one of its ministers. Beulah could see nothing but what was right in her father, at least; and, as for the major, he felt too much concerned at this unexpected admission of his father’s, to perceive anything but the error.
“Have you not overlooked the injunction of scripture, my excellent friend?” rejoined the chaplain. “Have you left to the rights of Cæsar, all their weight and authority? ‘The king’s name is a tower of strength.’”
“Have not you, Woods, forgotten the superior claims of reason and right, over those of accident and birth—that man is to be considered as a reasoning being, to be governed by principles and ever-varying facts, and not a mere animal left to the control of an instinct that perishes with its usefulness?”
“What can they mean, mother?” whispered Maud, scarce able to repress the laughter that came so easily to one with a keen sense of the ludicrous.
“They have been arguing about the right of parliament to tax the colonies, I believe, my dear, and over-persuaded each other, that’s all. It is odd, Robert, that Mr. Woods should convert your father.”
“No, my dearest mother, it is something even more serious than that.” By this time, the disputants, who sat opposite each other, were fairly launched into the discussion, again, and heeded nothing that passed—“No, dearest mother, it is far worse than even that. Pliny, tell my man to brush the hunting-jacket—and, see he has his breakfast, in good style—he is a grumbling rascal, and will give the house a bad character, else—you need not come back, until we ring for you—yes, mother, yes dearest girls, this is a far more serious matter than you suppose, though it ought not to be mentioned idly, among the people. God knows now they may take it—and bad news flies swift enough, of itself.”
“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby-“What can you mean, my son?”
“I mean, mother, that civil war has actually commenced in the colonies, and that the people of your blood and race are, in open arms, against the people of my father’s native country—in a word, against me.”
“How can that be, Robert? Who would dare to strike a blow against the king?”
“When men get excited, and their passions are once inflamed, they will do much, my mother, that they might not dream of, else.”
“This must be a mistake! Some evil-disposed person has told you this, Robert, knowing your attachment to the crown.”
“I wish it were so, dear madam; but my own eyes have seen—I may say my own flesh has felt, the contrary.”
The major then related what had happened, letting his auditors into the secret of the true state of the country. It is scarcely necessary to allude to the degree of consternation and pain, with which he was heard, or to the grief which succeeded.
“You spoke of yourself, dear Bob,” said Maud, naturally, and with strong feeling—”You were not hurt, in this cruel, cruel battle.”
“I ought not to have mentioned it, although I did certainly receive a smart contusion—nothing more, I assure you—here in the shoulder, and it now scarcely inconveniences me.”
By this time all were listening, curiosity and interest having silenced even the disputants, especially as this was the first they had heard of the major’s casualty. Then neither felt the zeal which had warmed him in the previous contest, but was better disposed to turn aside from its pursuit.
“I hope it did not send you to the rear, Bob?” anxiously inquired the father.
“I was in the rear, sir, when I got the hurt,” answered the major, laughing. “The rear is the post of honour, on a retreat, you know, my dear father; and I believe our march scarce deserves another name.”
“That is hard, too, on king’s troops! What sort of fellows had you to oppose, my son?”
“A rather intrusive set, sir. Their object was to persuade us to go into Boston, as fast as possible; and, it was a little difficult, at times, not to listen to their arguments. If my Lord Percy had not come out, with a strong party, and two pieces of artillery, we might not have stood it much longer. Our men were fagged like hunted deer, and the day proved oppressively hot.”
“Artillery, too!” exclaimed the captain, his military pride reviving a little, to unsettle his last convictions of duty. “Did you open your columns, and charge your enemies, in line?”
“It would have been charging air. No sooner did we halt, than our foes dispersed; or, no sooner did we renew the march, than every line of wall, along our route, became a line of hostile muskets. I trust you will do us justice, sir—you know the regiments, and can scarce think they misbehaved.”
“British troops seldom do that; although I have known it happen. No men, however, are usually more steady, and then these provincials are formidable as skirmishers. In that character, I know them, too. What has been the effect of all this on the country, Bob?—You told us something of it last night; complete the history.”
“The provinces are in a tumult. As for New England, a flame of fire could scarce be more devastating; though I think this colony is less excited. Still, here, men are arming in thousands.”