Expecting, however, that Kate would not only land at New York, but remain there until the colonies, as he hoped and believed, would be subdued, he had made every preparation to meet her at that port; but not supposing that she would arrive as soon as she did, he had delayed, until the last moment, entering within the royal lines, a step which he knew would prevent his return to Sweetwater or to Philadelphia. He was at the former place, accordingly, when his aunt and cousin, arriving from the wreck, brought the first intelligence alike of their having sailed earlier than they had designed, and of the catastrophe which had terminated their voyage.
At first he saw nothing in the somewhat reserved manners of Kate, but the coyness natural to her sex and age; in fact, for awhile he attributed it to secret admiration of himself. But time gradually undeceived him. Kate’s reserve changed occasionally to marked aversion. He resembled, indeed, so little the cousin she remembered when a boy, that, when his attentions became particular, she shrank from him with feelings almost of disgust. As whatever was worst in his past career was concealed from her, this growing dislike must have arisen from the fine instinct of her sex.
Aylesford, like men of his class, looked everywhere but to himself for the cause of this aversion. He could find no explanation so plausible as in a romantic fancy, on the part of his cousin, for the handsome young officer who was said to have been the principal cause of saving her life. Giving way to his unbridled passions, he secretly swore to avenge himself on this rival. But, meantime, resolving to lose no opportunity of ingratiating himself with his mistress, he offered to visit Philadelphia, in order to attend in person to those commissions which the damaged wardrobe of the ladies rendered necessary.
Arriving at Sweetwater, after an absence unavoidably protracted, his first inquiry was for Kate; and his rage was only equalled by his astonishment, when he learned she had gone out on horseback with Major Gordon. Once, before his departure, he had offered to accompany her himself; but she had declined in terms that left no opening for repeating the request. A few questions, angrily put, extracted from the frightened servant, that Kate had been riding out daily for a fortnight with the man he already considered his rival. He was almost white with passion, therefore, when Mrs. Warren appeared.
His aunt, like all weak-minded persons, loved him none the less, perhaps, for his wild life, or his ungovernable temper. He had been her pet before she left for Europe, the more probably because his uncle so often frowned upon him, and now that she had returned, he seemed to her to be the same frank and good-hearted lad she had always persisted in believing him, only somewhat older in years, handsomer in person, and more finished in manner. To do her justice, Aylesford did all he could to deceive the simple dame. He was punctilious in attending to her wants, flattered her whims, and paraded his royalist sympathies freely in her presence. Accordingly, such was the hold he obtained over her, before leaving Sweetwater, that when, once or twice, her maid began to gossip about his antecedents, she sternly bade the girl to be silent, and resolutely refused to believe anything to his disadvantage.
“What is this I hear?” said Aylesford, with a lowering brow, when they had entered the parlor. “How could you allow this paltry rebel officer to establish himself here?”
Poor Mrs. Warren knew not what to say. She felt like a culprit. At last, not daring to look in his face, but fumbling, like a truant girl, the little, round pin-cushion, which, in common with all dames of her day, she wore at her side, she stammered—
“Indeed, Charles, I couldn’t help it—”
He answered angrily—
“Why didn’t you say that her horse was too wild? That you were afraid of the unsettled condition of the country? That it wasn’t proper for Kate to be seen with an American officer?”