"'Two to one on yellow!' you shout.

"'I'll take it!' roars Lord Pilkington.

"'Two to one on blue!' he shouts back.

"'Put me down for it!' you answer.

"They are on the home run. There is a great hubbub, like the roaring of a tornado, as they sweep under the line, yellow ahead. You swing your hat, and yell as loud as you can. You are ten thousand in. Oh, it is just the jolliest excitement a man can have!"

"If you win, my lord, does not somebody else lose?"

"Of course, Miss Newville."

"Do they feel equally jolly?"

"Possibly not. Sometimes we are out of pocket, and do not feel quite so hilarious, but we swallow a stiff nipper of brandy and draw our checks like men. I won five thousand from Lord Pilkington, three thousand from Lady Merryfield, and quite a number of one hundred pounders from the ladies of my set, who bet on the blue, while I planked mine on the yellow. You see, Miss Newville, that ladies are sometimes influenced by fancy. Lady Somers, for instance, allowed fancy to get the better of judgment. She likes blue as a color, above yellow. She is quite horsey, and thinks she can drive a tandem. I had examined blue, felt of his muscles, and made up my mind that by and by he would have ringbone on his left fore leg. I believed that yellow had the best wind and bottom; but the ladies followed the lead of Lady Somers, and so I raked in their shekels. They all ponied up promptly, though, and paid their outs, like true-born English ladies."

"I do not think," said Miss Newville, "that I should like to lose or win money in that way."

"Why, Miss Newville, once get into it, and you would say it is the most delightful sport in the world. If you think, however, that you would not like to partic.i.p.ate in such pleasures, we have the fox hunt, which is the most charming and innocent diversion imaginable. You don't bet any money in that, but have a rollicking good time riding over the country, ladies and gentlemen--leaping hedges and ditches, following the hounds, running Reynard to cover, and having a lunch at the close of the hunt."

"Foxes are plentiful in this country, but we do not run them down with horses," Miss Newville replied.

"Do ladies ride horseback in the Colonies?"

"Oh, yes. Were you to attend meeting in the country on the Sabbath, you would see many ladies riding up to the horse-block, wives on pillions behind their husbands. Do the ladies who hunt foxes attend meeting on the Sabbath, my lord?"

"Ha, ha! I suspect what you call going to meeting, with us is going to church. Oh, we are very devout. On Sunday we all go to church, kneel on our ha.s.socks, and confess we are miserable sinners, recite the creed, pray for the king, queen, Prince of Wales, the army and navy.

We do our full duty as Christians, and are loyal to the church, as well as to his majesty. My rector, at Halford, is a very good man. To be sure the living isn't much, but he reads the prayers well, preaches a nice little sermon of ten minutes or so, for he knows I don't care to be bored by the hour. He enjoys a fox hunt, says grace at dinner, and makes a point of having a little game of cards with me Sat.u.r.day evening. He doesn't know much about cards, so I usually let him win a few shillings, knowing the poor fellow will feel better Sunday morning while reading the service if he knows he has a half-crown in his pocket, instead of being out that much. I know how it is, Miss Newville. I can be more devout and comfortable on Sunday after winning instead of losing five or ten thousand at Almack's."

"Perhaps, my lord, you feel you are not quite such a miserable sinner as you might be after all."

"You have stated it correctly, Miss Newville," his lordship replied, not discerning the quiet sarcasm. "Of course I am not, for if I lose, I curse my luck, and am ready to punch somebody's head, and rip out some swear words, but if I win, I am ready to bless the other fellow for playing a king when he should have laid down an ace."

His lordship apologized for having tarried so long, and took his departure.

"She's a Puritan, through and through. As lovely and pure as an angel in heaven," he said to himself as he walked down the street.

While the months were going by, Roger Stanley, student of Harvard College, was learning about life in Rumford, as a surveyor of land, spending his evenings in the house of Joshua Walden, with Robert and Rachel to keep him company, especially Rachel. He found pleasure in telling her the story of Ulysses and Penelope. Most of the young men of Rumford who came to the Walden home could only talk about oxen, which pair of steers could pull the heaviest load, or whose horse could out-trot all others. When the surveying was done, Roger accepted the invitation of the committeemen to keep the winter school. Never before had there been a master who could keep the big boys in order without using the ferule, but somehow the great strapping fellows, who might have put the master on his back in a twinkling, could not find it in their hearts to do anything that would trouble him. Other masters were content if they went through the regular daily stint of reading, writing, spelling, and ciphering, but he told them about men who made the most of themselves, and who had done great things,--Caesar, Augustus, Charlemagne, Alfred the Great.

It was the schoolmaster who suggested that the people should meet once a week in the schoolhouse to discuss the great questions affecting the welfare of the Colonies, and who wrote out the questions to be considered:--

"What are the inalienable rights of the people?"

"Has Parliament any right to tax the people of America without their consent?"

"Is it right ever to resist the authority of the king?"

"Ought the Colonies to unite for self-defense?"

"Ought the Colonies, in any event, to separate from England?"

People from the back roads came to hear what Esquire Walden, Deacon Kent, Shoemaker Noyes, Blacksmith Temple, and Schoolmaster Stanley had to say upon these questions before the parliament of the people, in the schoolhouse, lighted by two tallow candles and the fire blazing on the hearth. King George and Frederick North might have learned some fundamental principles of government, had they been present.

Like sitting in heavenly places were the mornings and evenings to Roger Stanley in the Walden home, where he pa.s.sed the first and the last two weeks of the term. The food upon the table was appetizing; deft hands had prepared the bannock--Rachel's hands. The plates, knives, and forks had been laid by her. It was she who glided like a fairy around the room. How could his eyes help following her? And when seated at the table, how radiant her face, beaming with health! In the early morning, long before breakfast-time, he heard her feet tripping down the stairs. While about her work, he could hear her humming a song which he had sung to her. Very pleasant the "good-morning" that came from her lips when he appeared. In the evening it was a pleasure to hold a skein of yarn for her to wind. He was sorry when the last thread dropped from his wrists, and wished she had another for him to hold.

It was the old, old story; the growth of mutual respect, honor, and love, becoming daily more tender and true; the love that needed no pledge, because it was so deep and abiding.

XII.

A NEW ENGLAND GIRL.

Lord Upperton was prolonging his stay in America. He visited New York and Philadelphia, and was once more in Boston. He called upon Thomas Hutchinson, governor; upon Thomas Flucker, secretary; and upon the officials of the Custom House. He accepted many invitations to dinner from gentlemen and ladies, and took excursions into the country on horseback. Lady Frankland hospitably entertained him in her country house, where he enjoyed himself shooting squirrels and partridges.

Returning to Boston, he frequently called to pay his respects to Mr.

and Mrs. Newville, never failing to ask for Miss Newville, prolonging his calls till past the ringing of the nine o'clock bell. He was very courteous, and had many entertaining stories to tell of life in England, of his ancestral home at Halford. The old castle was gray with age; the ivy, ever green upon its towers, hanging in graceful festoons from the battlements. Herds of deer roamed the surrounding park; pheasants crooned and cackled beneath the stalwart oaks; hares burrowed in the forest; nightingales made the midnight melodious with their dulcet singing. Old tapestries adorned the walls of the s.p.a.cious apartments. In the banqueting halls were the portraits of ancestors--lords, dukes, and earls reaching down to the first Earl Upperton created by William of Normandy, for valor on the field of Hastings. On the maternal side were portraits of beautiful ladies who had been maids of honor and train-bearers at the coronations of Margaret and Elizabeth. The brain of Ruth could not keep track of all the branches of the ancestral tree; she could only conclude it was stalwart and strong.

Lord Upperton was heartily welcomed by Mrs. Newville, who esteemed it one of heaven's blessings to be thus honored. On an evening, after a visit from his lordship, Mrs. Newville, with radiant face, drew Ruth to her bosom. "My dear," she said, "I have joyful information for you.

Lord Upperton has done us the distinguished honor to say to your father and me that he has become so much interested in our daughter that he presumes to ask the privilege of paying his addresses to her.

It is not, Ruth, altogether a surprise to me, for I have seen his growing fondness for you."

"Fondness for me, mother?"

"Yes, dear; he has not been able to keep his eyes off you of late. I have noticed that if you had occasion to leave the room, he fidgeted till you returned. We have given our consent, and he will call to-morrow evening to make a formal proposal to you."

"But I do not desire he should make a proposal to me, mother!"

"Don't want him to make an offer of marriage, child! Why, Ruth, what are you thinking of? Not wish to receive the attentions of a n.o.ble lord! I am astonished. Do you forget that he can trace his lineage down to the time of William the Conqueror, and I don't know how much farther? You surprise me!"

"I doubt not Lord Upperton may have a n.o.ble ancestry, but I don't see how that concerns me. I am not going to marry his ancestors, am I?"

"Why, daughter, he has a crest,--an escutcheon of azure, sable, and sanguine, a lion rampant, a unicorn pa.s.sant, and an eagle volent."

"What would a crest do for me?"

The question puzzled Mrs. Newville. "I really do not know, daughter, just what it would do, but it would be painted on your coach; it would be embroidered on the banners hanging in Lord Upperton's baronial hall. Just think of it! The lion, the emblem of strength, the unicorn of energy, the eagle of swiftness and far-sightedness,--it would represent all those qualities!"

"But what if one has not the qualities?"

"I am not so sure, daughter, but that you have those very characteristics in a remarkable degree. I know you have strength of will and energy. What you undertake you carry through; and you are far-sighted, you see what others of your age do not see. I do not say it to flatter you, daughter, but I am sure Lord Upperton's coat-of-arms is emblematic of the character of the lady whom he wishes to see mistress of Halford Castle," said Mrs. Newville, with radiant face.

It seemed to her that the fond hope of years was about to be realized; that the time was at hand when the Newville family was to be enn.o.bled; when she, herself, could bid farewell to America, and be admitted to the charmed society of dukes, barons, princes, kings, and queens.

"Lord Upperton will call to-morrow evening, dear, and I will have Madame Riggoletti come in the afternoon to do your hair. You had better wear your corn-colored satin brocade, which is so becoming to you."