Some of my men were following me. When the ladies saw them they shrieked louder than ever, so I ordered them all to go outside the house with the exception of Tom Rockets, and then addressed myself to the lady who had thus spoken to me—
“I regret excessively the cruel necessity thus imposed on me, madam,” said I, “but accept the honour of an officer and a gentleman that no harm shall be done to any member of your family. Let me entreat the young ladies to calm their fears. My people are under perfect command, as you may have seen by the way they obeyed my orders, so that you need be under no apprehension either from them.”
“I’ll trust you, sir; I’ll trust you,” said the lady, frankly putting out her hand. “There is something in your countenance and manner which assures me that you speak the truth.”
I could only bow to this pretty compliment—I hope it was deserved. These words had great effect in calming the agitation of the young ladies, and in a few minutes they were able to dismiss the negro girls and the scent bottles and the plates of burnt feathers, and to sit up and enter into conversation. The room was still too dark to enable me to see much of their countenances, but I thought their voices sounded very pleasant and sweet, and I pictured them to myself as very charming young ladies.
“The hour is somewhat unusual for tea,” observed the lady of the house, “but I doubt not after your long march you will find it refreshing.”
I thanked the lady very much, and assured her that I should particularly enjoy a cup of tea. She accordingly gave the order to an attendant slave, and in a short time a whole troop of black girls came in with urn and teacups and candles, and in a twinkling a table was spread, and all the party drew round it.
As I was approaching the tea-table, I started and stood like one transfixed, for there appeared before me, with the light of a candle falling full on her countenance, a young lady the very image of Madeline Carlyon. “It must be her,” I thought; and yet my heart told me that it could not be, for she did not appear to recognise me. The young lady, however, saw my confusion, and looked up with an inquiring glance at my countenance. Women have, I suspect, very sharp eyes in discovering where anything connected with the heart of the opposite sex is concerned, and are generally equally clever in concealing what is passing in their own. She kept looking at me, and I looked at her for a minute or more without speaking. More than once I made a move towards her as if the lady I saw before me must be Madeline, and then the expression of her countenance showed me I was mistaken.
At last I was aware that I was making myself somewhat remarkable or, as some of my friends would have said, very ridiculous; so, trying to overcome my agitation, I drew my chair to the table and sat down. I watched the young lady, and observed that she still cast an inquiring glance at me, as much as to say, “For whom do you take me?” On the strength of this I thought I would venture to inquire if she was in any way related to Madeline. Just as I was going to speak, a cup of tea was handed to me. I first emptied half the contents of the sugar-bason into it, then said I took very little sugar, and asked for a spoonful. Then I threw off the tea as if it were a doctor’s dose, and passed my cup for some more. At last I mustered courage to look across the table and to say, “I beg pardon—I fear that I must have appeared very rude, but your resemblance to a young lady whom I know is so very striking that I should suppose you to be her sister if I was not aware that she has none.”
“Then you must be Mr Hurry!” she said quickly. “I am considered very like my cousin, Madeline Carlyon. She has spoken to me about you—of your kindness and generosity—oh, how very fortunate!”
The countenances of all the party were turned towards me, and they looked at me with an expression of interest and pleasure. The elder lady got up and, taking my hand, exclaimed—