“You have been north, I hear, Mr. Littlepage,” my landlady observed, while I was discussing her lamb, and peas and asparagus; “pray, sir, did you hear or see anything of our honoured neighbours, Herman Mordaunt and his charming daughter?”
“Much of both, Mrs. Light; and that under trying circumstances. Mooseridge, my father's property in that part of the province, is quite near to Ravensnest, Herman Mordaunt's estate, and I have passed some time at it. Have no tidings of the family reached you, lately?”
“None, unless it be the report that Miss Anneke will never return to us.”
“Anneke not return! In the name of wonder, how do you hear this?”
“Not as Miss Anneke, but as Lady Anneke, or something of that sort. Isn't there a General Bulstrom, or some great officer or other, who seeks her hand, and on whom she smiles, sir?”
“I presume I understand you, now. Well, what do you learn of him?”
“Only that they are to be married next month—some say they are married already, and that the old gentleman gives Lilacsbush, out and out, and four thousand pounds currency, down, in order to purchase so high an honour for his child. I tell the neighbours it is too much, Miss Anneke being worth any lord in England, on her own, sole, account.”
This intelligence did not disturb me, of course, for it was tavern-tidings and neighbours' news. Neighbours! How much is that sacred word prostituted! You shall find people opening their ears with avidity to the gossip of a neighbourhood, when nineteen times in twenty it is less entitled to credit than the intelligence which is obtained from a distance, provided the latter come from persons of the same class in life as the individuals in question, and are known to them. What means had this woman of knowing the secrets of Herman Mordaunt's family, that were one-half as good as those possessed by friends in Albany, for instance? This neighbourhood testimony, as it is called, does a vast deal of mischief in the province, and most especially in those parts of it where our own people are brought in contact with their fellow-subjects, from the more eastern colonies. In my eyes, Jason Newcome's opinions of Herman Mordaunt, and his acts, would be nearly worthless, shrewd as I admit the man to be; for the two have not a distinctive opinion, custom, and I had almost said principle, in common. Just appreciation of motives and acts can only proceed from those who feel and think alike; and this is morally impossible where there exist broad distinctions in social classes. It is just for this reason that we attach so little importance to the ordinary reports, and even to the sworn evidence, of servants.
Our reception at Satanstoe was just what might have been expected. My dear mother hugged me to her heart, again and again, and seemed never to be satisfied with feasting her eyes on me. My father was affected at seeing me, too; and I thought there was a very decided moisture in his eyes. As for old Capt. Hugh Roger, three-score-and-ten had exhausted his fluids, pretty much; but he shook me heartily by the hand, and listened to my account of the movements before Ty with all a soldier's interest, and with somewhat of the fire of one who had served himself in more fortunate times. I had to fight my battles o'er and o'er again, as a matter of course, and to recount the tale of Ravensnest in all its details. We were at supper, when I concluded my most laboured narrative, and when I began to hope my duties, in this respect, were finally terminated. But my dear mother had heavier matters still, on her mind; and it was necessary that I should give her a private conference, in her own little room.
“Corny, my beloved child,” commenced this anxious and most tender parent, “you have said nothing particular to me of the Mordaunts. It is now time to speak of that family.”