The Heart - Page 9/151

But I was not to be moved by wheedling. I repeated again that I

should remain where she was. Then she, grown suddenly stern again,

withdrew a little from me, and made no further efforts to get rid of

me, but sat still watching the unlading with a gravity which gave me

a vague uneasiness. I began to have a feeling that here was more

than appeared on the surface, and my suspicion grew as I watched the

sailors lift those boxes which were supposed to contain Mistress

Mary's finery. In the first place there were enough of them to

contain the wardrobe of a lady in waiting, in the second place they

were of curious shape for such purposes, in the third place 'twas

all those lusty English sailors could do to lift them.

"They be the heaviest furbelows that ever maiden wore," I thought as

I watched them strain at the cases, both hauling and pulling, with

many men to the ends to get them through the hatch, then ease them

to the deck, with regard to the nipping of fingers. I noted, too, an

order given somewhat privately by Captain Tabor to put out the

pipes, and noted that not one man but had stowed his away.

There was a bridle-path leading through the woods to Laurel Creek,

and by that way to my consternation Mistress Mary ordered the

sailors to carry the cases. 'Twas two miles inland, and I marvelled

much to hear her, for even should nearly all the crew go, the load

would be a grievous one, it seemed to me. But to my mind Captain

Calvin Tabor behaved as if the order was one which he expected,

neither did the sailors grumble, but straightway loaded themselves

with the case raised upon a species of hurdles which must have been

provided for the purpose, and proceeded down the bridle-path,

singing to keep up their hearts another song even more at odds with

the day than the first. The captain marched at the head of the

sailors, and Mistress Mary and I followed slowly through the narrow

aisle of green. I rode ahead, and often pulled my horse to one side,

pressing his body hard against the trees that I might hold back a

branch which would have caught her headgear. All the way we never

spoke. When we reached Laurel Creek, Mistress Mary drew the key from

her pocket, which showed to me that the visit had been planned

should the ship have arrived. She unlocked the door, and the

sailors, no longer singing, for they were well-nigh spent by the

journey under the heavy burdens, deposited the cases in the great

room. Laurel Creek had belonged to Mistress Mary's maternal

grandfather, Colonel Edmond Lane, and had not been inhabited this

many a year, not since Mary was a baby in arms. The old furniture

still stood in the accustomed places, looking desolate with that

peculiar desolateness of lifeless things which have been associated

with man. The house at Laurel Creek was a fine mansion, finer than

Drake Hill, and the hall made me think of England. Great oak chests

stood against the walls, hung with rusting swords and armour and

empty powder-horns. A carven seat was beside the cold hearth, and in

a corner was a tall spinning-wheel, and the carven stair led in a

spiral ascent of mystery to the shadows above.