"Yet cheer up, sweetheart," my lord said to me, as, leaning on his arm, I looked round this ruin and let fall my tears. "It is not irreparable, and might have been worse. And, when we come back from England, we will bring such pretty toys and knick-knacks with us that you shall forget all you have lost. I promise you, sweet, you shall." After which he strove to kiss away my tears, though still they fell.
This took place directly after we had all ridden into the courtyard on our return from captivity. And when the gentlemen whose houses had also been attacked as mine had been (including poor Gregory, who seemed heart-broken at my having fallen in love, yet not with him), and the other colonists had dispersed to their own homes, or what remained of them, we had instantly begun to inspect the damage done. Of the negroes we could discover no signs, though Buck and young Lamb searched the whole house from the cellars to the garrets for them, the former roaring many terrible threats and strange ejaculations at their heads in the hopes they might be in hiding and, on hearing him, come forth; but all was of no avail. Nor, when they searched in the late slaves' and bond-servants' quarters were they any more successful. Christian Lamb, my own maid, soon, however, re-appeared, she having remained in the house the whole time, and though her brother swore at her for a chicken-hearted wench and called her many other hard names, such as traitress and deserter, I was most thankful to see her again, she being a good, faithful creature, though timorous.
From her we learned that after the departure of O'Rourke and my dear lord--the former of whom was now engaged in finding provisions for us, if any remained--the negroes had all sallied forth in a body towards the coast, some with the intention of escaping from their servitude and the others to find a home until I returned, if ever, of which they seemed most doubtful. After this, she told us, the house had been quite deserted, there being none in it but herself--the other white indented servant women having also betaken themselves to the village for safety. Yet she determined to remain until she heard some news of us and of the party that had set forth to rescue us. Moreover, her alarm was lessened by the fact that a squadron of the Virginian Light Horse, from Jamestown, had come into the village with a view of following us and effecting a rescue if possible, but, on learning that a considerable band had set out for the purpose, they had decided to remain where they were, for the present, at least, and to await results.
And now, when at the end of those months my house was once more fit for habitation, and when all signs of the horrible attack that had been made on it had been removed, Gerald, coming to me one evening when I was sitting by my wood fire--for the evenings were turning chilly--said:
"My dearest, are you ready? The time draws near."
"Must it be so soon?" I asked coyly, and with a blush upon my cheeks that was not caused by the blaze of the logs. "Must it be now?"
"In very truth it must," he answered. "I must away to England as swiftly as may be. See here, sweet, what I have found at Jamestown to-day." Then with one arm round my waist, he drew forth with his disengaged hand a packet of letters from his pocket and began to read them to me.
"The Marquis," he said first, "grows old, nay, has grown old; he is seventy-five if an hour. List what he says," and continued his reading of a letter from that noble kinsman:
"I would have you here ere I die so that I may publicly announce you as my heir, and this I will do in my own house when you return, though even then I can of no certainty promise that the Lords will enrol you as such immediately after my death, since they are not so easily persuaded as their brothers in Dublin. Yet come, I say, come as soon as may be. Your mother, too, grows more feeble, worn almost to her grave by the slanders which your uncle and the man Considine--who scruples not to say openly that you are none other than his son--puts about you; and in truth I do think these calumnies will kill her ere long. She rages terribly against them both, and calls on me and many of the peers in power to punish them; yet what are we to do?" "The vile wretches!" I exclaimed, as I nestled close to him. "Oh! the vile wretches! Oh! my darling, that thus your birthright should be so assailed."
"Yet will I have vengeance," he exclaimed, while his eyes glowed with resentment. "Yet shall the fellow Considine regret that he has ever dared to call me his son. His--his. God! My uncle's drunken pander!" and for a while his rage was terrible to witness.