"We return to Westover to-morrow," said that sprightly gentleman. "Evelyn
is like David of old, and pines for water from the spring at home. It also
appears that the many houses and thronged streets of this town weary her,
who, poor child, is used to an Arcady called London! When will you come to
us at Westover, Marmaduke?"
"I cannot tell," Haward answered. "I must first put my own house in order,
so that I may in my turn entertain my friends."
As he spoke he moved aside, so as to include in the company MacLean, who
stood beside the table. "Evelyn," he said, "let me make known to you--and
to you, Colonel--a Scots gentleman who hath broken his spear in his tilt
with fortune, as hath been the luck of many a gallant man before him.
Mistress Evelyn Byrd, Colonel Byrd--Mr. MacLean, who was an officer in the
Highland force taken at Preston, and who has been for some years a
prisoner of war in Virginia."
The lady's curtsy was low; the Colonel bowed as to his friend's friend. If
his eyebrows went up, and if a smile twitched the corners of his lips, the
falling curls of his periwig hid from view these tokens of amused wonder.
MacLean bowed somewhat stiffly, as one grown rusty in such matters. "I am
in addition Mr. Marmaduke Haward's storekeeper," he said succinctly, then
turned to the master of Fair View. "It grows late," he announced, "and I
must be back at the store to-night. Have you any message for Saunderson?"
"None," answered Haward. "I go myself to Fair View to-morrow, and then I
shall ask you to drink with me again."
As he spoke he held out his hand. MacLean looked at it, sighed, then
touched it with his own. A gleam as of wintry laughter came into his blue
eyes. "I doubt that I shall have to get me a new foe," he said, with
regret in his voice.
When he had bowed to the lady and to her father, and had gone out of the
room and down the lilac-bordered path and through the gate, and when the
three at the window had watched him turn into Duke of Gloucester Street,
the master of Westover looked at the master of Fair View and burst out
laughing. "Ludwell hath for an overseer the scapegrace younger son of a
baronet; and there are three brothers of an excellent name under
indentures to Robert Carter. I have at Westover a gardener who annually
makes the motto of his house to spring in pease and asparagus. I have not
had him to drink with me yet, and t'other day I heard Ludwell give to the
baronet's son a hound's rating."
"I do not drink with the name," said Haward coolly. "I drink with the man.
The churl or coward may pass me by, but the gentleman, though his hands be
empty, I stop."