On our way to the doctor's I noted the presence of a number of Islonians among the foreigners, who were trooping into the settlement from their day's work afield, and some of them looked curiously at me. Scarce a word passed between me and the maid, for she had some ado to keep up with my long stride. But when she threw open the door of Anna's sitting-room, she found breath to say demurely, "Mr. Vavasour." I had had some shrinking under my eagerness to see my love, lest my scarred face, still partly striped with plaister, should give her fright; but there was no sign of that in her beautiful eyes, as she stood waiting for me as near as might be, with allowance of room for the opening of the door, and with a low, soft cry of pity such as mothers use, she came into my arms. After the long embrace of welcome, she held me off, looking into my face some seconds, and then smiling through her tears, called me her brave soldier, her hero, and I know not what, asking a hundred questions, and laughing and crying in a breath, until the only thing I knew was that she was the loveliest woman in the world, and I the happiest of all men to have her love. At length I remembered I kept her standing, and drew her to a chair, kneeling beside her, and she touched my ugly face softly with her lips, and then broke into a gentle rain of tears. Before we had time to talk together, Martha rapped at the door, announcing supper.
We sat long at table, for the doctor, forgetting his studies awhile, asked many questions as I told my tale, and that was long enough. When I came to relate how Mr. Ulceby had befriended me, Anna could not speak her gratitude, but it shone so brightly in her face that the good man answered her—
"The happiness is on my side, Mistress Goel. I am repaid a hundred-fold for such service as I trust any man would have rendered who happened to have the ability."
She governed the swelling in her throat so far as to rejoin—
"Methinks the good Samaritan would have said much the same."
Supper ended, and the main of my story told, Mr. Ulceby pleaded weariness as a reason for going off to his quarters, whither we went with him, Anna being wishful to assure herself nothing was omitted for his comfort. When we had left him we paced to and fro under the starry sky in talk of the future. Anna did not approve of my entering Mr. Ulceby's service.
"Believe me, Frank, it is not the consideration that you are a gentleman by long descent that weighs with me," she said, "and I hope I am not wanting in thankfulness to this good man who has been so much your friend. I could give him anything else, but not my Frank to be a slave. For that is what it would be. There would not be some things to bear in Mr. Ulceby's counting-house which Virginian slaves endure, but the life would be little better than theirs—for you. You would have to do not only with Mr. Ulceby, but with his clerks and servants; and every one of them would despise you for your ignorance of his little knowledge, or hate you for being a gentleman, or both. And how could you bring your mind or body to sustain the confinement and the weary sameness of mechanical drudgery?"
I need not record what I said on the other part, since I was not fated to the course I would have taken. I put down Anna's words of wisdom for love's sake, though I yet believe that the pride which she disowned had more influence with her than perhaps she knew. And to tell the truth I loved her none the less on that account.
My prudent lady would have me beware lest, in my haste to be honest and desire to prove my gratitude, I should imperil all our future; it might take time to find employment more genial and suitable, but she doubted not it would be found. She would like to speak with Vermuijden, who at this time was in command of the settlement. This led her to say that the Islonian labourers, who had been hired by him, had been so much persecuted by their neighbours that it had been necessary to find them lodging within the pale, where they had come to good terms with the Dutch, and to a particular kindness toward her father and herself. Bess Boswell had left her father and her tribe, and for the present had shelter in Sandtoft. Of these and other matters, which need not be written, we talked until late.
When I went to my chamber I found my sword and pistols laid in readiness by my bedside,—and smiled at the superfluous care of Luke, who, I supposed, had placed them there. Through the open casement of my window came the rustle of leaves and the whisper of the wind among the reeds, and once or twice a faint twitter of some bird dreaming on his perch. The stillness was sweet to ears which had been vexed o' nights with the noise of drunken gamblers, horse-laughs, and oaths and shouting. The holy quietness and my happy thoughts soothed me soon to sleep, from which I was awakened by a great glare of fire through the window. Before I had gathered my wits, I heard a shuffling as of many feet, and as I sprang out of bed and huddled on my clothes, a shot rang, then other shots were fired, and a general hubbub arose. As I opened my door, Doctor Goel came out of the room opposite to mine, candle in hand, and Anna and her maid appeared immediately afterwards. We descended to the parlour together, the uproar without increasing every moment, shouts in Dutch and in English, clash of steel, crash of stones against woodwork, discharge of firearms, roar and crackle of burning, and the trampling of a mob hither and thither. It was the more confounding to me that I had observed on entering the settlement how guns had been placed to command the gates, and the doctor had mentioned other means of defence which had been adopted since the last assault. I said something of this, and Anna answered—