Ay, and so it was, you generous, whole-souled Milesian! And you did this time make a will. Tom Stewart and Stingo witnessed it, with handsome legacies therein set forth; and when one night you tumbled down––Well, we won’t mention the particulars; but Paddy kept his word.
As the party rose from the breakfast table to get ready for a stroll down to the mill and around the plantation, one fair woman’s hand was placed with a confiding, friendly clasp in that of Monsieur Burns; and then, as a graceful girl reached up to pull down her great flat straw hat from the post, Paddy Burns kissed her on the forehead, and she returned it too, as if she knew how to perform that ceremony even before people. Mr. Reefer Mouse had some thoughts of getting jealous, and calling Mr. Burns out, at ten paces, ships’ pistols, and all that sort of thing; but the round, red-faced gentleman kissed him too, declaring the while, as he held him aloft, that he was first-rate kissing––that he was; nearly as good as mademoiselle, which quite disarmed Tiny’s wrath, and then he hooked on to the damsel’s delicate flipper, and tripped away with her down the valley.
Harry Darcantel exchanged a nod––not of defiance––with Paddy Burns, as much as to hint that those were not dangerous kisses––oh, not at all; and passing his hand over his brown mustache, he followed after the couple before him. Yes, Harry, Tiny’s legs will get tired soon, and he will be hungry, and come back to old Banou for luncheon, while you will be putting aside the coffee bushes, and imploring mademoiselle to keep her straw hat about her lovely face, and not to get tanned by the sun. And when she turns her humid eyes toward you, you begin to believe the sky is never so blue as those eyes!
Tom Stewart, Stingo, and Burns never walked; they preferred lounging about the veranda, smoking cigars, and talking over the price of sugar and coffee, together with minor matters connected with factors’ profits and suits at law. Jacob Blunt leaned over the bridge, thinking of the “Martha Blunts,” brig and wife––not unfrequently confounding the two together––thinking this was to be his last voyage by land or sea, and that young Binks, his mate, should take command, and steer that old teak-built vessel carefully––oh, ever so keerful––or else the old hulk might come to grief.
Piron and his wife going mournfully down the valley––she with her mother’s eyes gazing far out to sea, and he with his strong arm around her, whispering words of consolation; both looking, night and morning, out over the blue water, from chamber and piazza, and seeing nothing but a breaking wave and a baby-boy drowning beneath it––nothing more!
Madame Nathalie and Cleveland went on gallantly ahead––he with 255 his blue pennant flying, and she with a black silk widow’s ribbon around the frill of her cap, and a broader band about that muslin waist––talking of those they had both lost years ago, and trusting they were in heaven, as they believed they were; hope to meet again themselves in Louisiana, and see a great deal of one another in time to come––not a doubt of it! Yes, the cruise was more than half over, and he was quite tired of the sea. She, however, thought the sea beautiful, and never tired of looking at it. True, not rolling on top of it all the time––liked to sleep without rocking.
When the sea-breeze came fluttering up the gorge again, through the canes and the coffee-trees, and shaking up the superb foliage of the tropical forest, with the brilliant feathered tribes nestling close together on the lofty branches, and before the first salt breath had been exhaled in the clouds about the topmost peaks of the Blue Mountains, thousands of feet in the air, the party at Escondido had again returned to the broad piazzas, where, with blinds open, and swinging in cool grass hammocks, the men took siesta, while the ladies sought the pretty bowers within.
So passed one happy day, like the one gone before; and before the close of the week Dr. Darcantel joined the party, to take the place of Colonel Lawton; and a few days after old Clinker crackled up, very dry and thorny, with parchment in his pockets to take inventories, and do musty business generally.
Then the fair women, escorted by the navy men, and the Droger and Stingo, took their departure for the town house and ships in Kingston, leaving Paddy Burns, and Tom Stewart, and Clinker with Piron to close up matters, prior to his leaving the island. Paul Darcantel said he would remain with them likewise, since he had got through his business in Spanish Town and Port Royal, and wanted quiet. Madame Rosalie was the last to leave; and before her husband lifted her into the saddle, they stood together on the piazza, she looking with that still yearning gaze over the sea, and seeing nothing but breaking waves. That was the last look from Escondido!