The Earl of Halifax swung for a while on his sign and pondered. His attention was next arrested by a magnificent carriage rolling rapidly by. Outriders in scarlet liveries bestrode the spirited horses, whose silver harness glittered brightly in the sun. Within the chariot a dignified gentleman sat in solitary state. He was a stately personage with powdered hair, wearing a three-cornered hat and a crimson velvet coat; diamond buckles sparkled at his knees, and in his hand he carried a gold-headed cane. As the carriage passed the inn, Mistress Stavers dropped several low curtseys, for this was General Wentworth driving out to his great house, which stood just outside the town overlooking the sea.
A stately pile standing near the high road but hidden from it by trees, the Governor's house was indeed a pleasant abode. Within, it was magnificent to behold with its oak floors and carved chimney-pieces. All through the winter immense fires of logs blazed cheerily on the open hearths, while portraits of dead and gone Wentworths in heavy gilt frames looked placidly down from the tapestry-covered walls. Beneath the tapestry were doors which opened unawares and led into mysterious passages and up queer little flights of stairs.
Here dwelt the great man, Governor Wentworth, but no one shared its comfort with him, for he was a widower and childless, and though no one ever heard him complain, sometimes he felt his loneliness very keenly.
At this time Martha Hilton, the pretty little gypsy maid was thirteen years old, and soon after the day when we met her tripping down the main street of Portsmouth, she went to be a servant at the house of Governor Wentworth. For seven long years she worked hard and faithfully.
"A maid of all work, whether coarse or fine,
A servant who made service seem divine."
Under her care the mirrors glistened and the brasses shone; the very knocker on the great front entrance looked brighter whenever she passed by. And all this time, as Martha grew from childhood into woman-hood, there was someone who watched, unknown to her, all her doings.
Time passed on, bringing with it the Governor's sixtieth birthday, and at the great house it was determined to give a banquet in honor of the occasion. Invitations were sent out to all Governor Wentworth's friends in the neighborhood, and when the day arrived, a very noble assemblage sat down to the feast. At the commencement of the banquet the Reverend Arthur Brown, the rector, who was seated at the host's right hand, said grace, and then the feast went on merrily. After the guests had finished eating and the King's health had been drunk, the Governor gave a whispered message to a man-servant, who disappeared and presently returned with a beautiful girl, simply and neatly dressed. The guests scarcely noticed her presence, but the Governor stood up in his place and, looking down at the rector, said: "This is my birthday; it shall also be my wedding-day, and you shall marry me."
The guests were greatly mystified, and the reverend gentleman not less so, but he answered politely: "It would indeed be a pleasant task, your Excellency, but may I ask to whom I am to marry you?" "To this lady," replied the Governor, and beckoned to Martha Hilton to stand by his side. Blushing and confused the maiden timidly obeyed, but the rector hesitated and said nothing. Then the Governor cried impatiently: "If you hesitate to do as I ask you, then, as chief magistrate, I command you."
Seeing that all objections would be useless the rector obeyed, and read the marriage-service in loud, clear tones. The Governor placed a ring on the fourth finger of the bride's fair left hand, and Martha Hilton became Lady Wentworth of the Hall.