CHAPTER XI.
O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most Inmentable day! most woeful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woeful day! O woeful day!
Shakspeare.
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The family at the Locusts had slept or watched
through all the disturbances at the cottage of
Birch, in perfect ignorance of their occurrence.
The attacks of the Skinners were always made
with so much privacy as to exclude the sufferer, not
only from succour, but frequently through a dread
of future depredations, from the commiseration
of their neighbours also. The cares of their additional
duties had drawn the ladies from their pillows
at an hour somewhat earlier than usual, and
Captain Lawton, notwithstanding the sufferings of
his body, had risen in compliance with a rule that
he never departed from, of sleeping but six hours
at a time. This was one of the few points in
which the care of the human frame was involved,
where the trooper and the surgeon of horse were
ever known to agree. The doctor had watched,
during the night, by the side of the bed of Captain
Singleton, without once closing his eyes. Occasionally
he would pay a visit to the wounded Englishman,
who, being more hurt in the spirit than
in the flesh, tolerated the interruptions to his repose
with a very ill grace; and once, for an instant,
he ventured to steal softly to the bed of his
obstinate comrade, and was near succeeding in
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obtaining a feel of his pulse, when a terrible oath,
sworn by the trooper in a dream, startled the prudent
surgeon, and warned him of a trite saying in
the corps, “that Captain Lawton always slept
with one eye open.” This group had assembled
in one of the parlors as the sun made its appearance
over the eastern hill, and dispersed the
columns of fog which had enveloped the low land.
Miss Peyton was looking from a window in the
direction of the tenement of the pedlar, and was
expressing a kind anxiety after the welfare of the
sick it was supposed to contain, when the person
of Katy suddenly emerged from the dense covering
of an earthly cloud, whose mists were scattering
before the cheering rays of the sun, and was
seen making hasty steps towards the Locusts.
There was that in the air of the housekeeper,
which bespoke distress of an unusual nature, and
the kind-hearted mistress of the Locusts opened
the door of the room, with the benevolent intention
of soothing a grief that seemed so overwhelming.
A nearer view of the disturbed features of the
visitor, confirmed Miss Peyton in her belief, and
with the shock that gentle feelings ever experience
at a sudden and endless separation from even
the meanest of their associates—she said hastily—
“What, Katy, is he gone?”
“No, ma'm,” replied the disturbed damsel with
great bitterness, “he is not yet gone, but he may
go as soon as he pleases now, for the mischief is
all done—I do verily believe, Miss Peyton, they
haven't so much as left him money enough to buy
him another suit of clothes to cover his nakedness,
and what he has on are none of the best, I
can tell you.”
“How!” exclaimed the astonished spinster,
“could any one have the heart to plunder a man
in such distress?”
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“Hearts!” repeated Katy catching her breath;
“men like them have no bowels at all—plunder
and distress indeed.—Why, ma'm, there were in
the iron pot, in plain sight, fifty-four guineas of
gold, besides what lay underneath, which I couldn't
count without handling—and I didn't like to touch
it, for they say, that another's gold is apt to stick—
so judging from that in sight, there wasn't less
than two hundred guineas—besides what was in
the deer-skin purse. But Harvey is little better
now than a beggar, and don't you think a beggar
very despiseable, Miss Peyton?”
“Poverty is to be pitied and not despised,”
said the lady in reply, still unable to comprehend
the extent of the misfortune that had befallen her
neighbours during the night. “But how is the
old man; and does this loss you speak of affect
him much?”
The countenance of Katy changed instantly,
from the natural expression of concern to the set
form of melancholy, as she answered—
“He is happily removed from the cares of the
world—the chinking of the money made him get
out of his bed, and the poor soul found the shock
too great for him. He died about two hours and
ten minutes before the cock crowed, as near as
we can say”—she was interrupted by the physician,
who, approaching, inquired, with much interest,
the nature of his disorder. Glancing her eye
over the figure of this new acquaintance, Katy,
after instinctively adjusting her dress, replied—
“ 'Twas the troubles of the times, and the loss
of property, that brought him down—he wasted
from day to day, and all my care and anxiety were
lost—for now Harvey is no better than a beggar,
and who is there to repay me for what I have
done?”
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“God will reward you for all the good you have
done,” said Miss Peyton mildly.
“Yes,” interrupted the spinster hastily, and
with an air of reverence that was instantly succeeded
by an expression that denoted more of
worldly care; “but then I left my wages for three
years past in the hands of Harvey, and how am I
to get them. My brothers told me again and
again to ask for my money, but I always thought
accounts between relations were easily settled.”
“Were you related then to Birch?” asked Miss
Peyton, observing her to pause.
“Why,” returned the maiden, hesitating a little,
“I thought we were as good as so. I wonder
if I have no claim on the house and garden, though
they say now it is Harvey's it will surely be confisticated,”
turning to Lawton, who had been sitting
in one posture, with his piercing eyes lowering at
her through his thick brows, in silence; “perhaps
this gentleman knows—he seems to take an interest
in my story”—
“Madam,” said the trooper, bowing very low,
“both you and the tale are extremely interesting.”
Katy smiled involuntarily; “but my humble
knowledge is limited to the setting of a squadron
in the field, and using it when there. I beg
leave to refer you to Dr. Archibald Sitgreaves, a
gentleman of universal attainments, and unbounded
philanthropy.”
The surgeon drew up in proud disdain, and employed
himself in whistling a low air as he looked
over some phials on a table; but the housekeeper,
turning to him with an inclination of her
head, continued—
“I suppose, sir, a woman has no dower in her
husband's property, unless they be actually married?”
It was a maxim with Dr. Sitgreaves, that no
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species of knowledge was to be despised, and consequently
he was an empiric in every thing but his
profession. At first, indignation at the irony of
his comrade kept him silent; but suddenly changing
his purpose, he answered the maiden, with a
smile—
“I judge not. If death has anticipated your
nuptials, I am fearful you have no remedy against
his stern decrees.”
To Katy this sounded well, although she understood
nothing of its meaning, but “death,” and
“nuptials.” To this part of his speech, then, she
directed her reply.
“I did think he only waited the death of the old
gentleman before he married,” said the housekeeper,
looking on the carpet; “but, now he is
nothing more than despiseable, or what's the same
thing, a pedlar without house, pack, or money.
It might be hard for a man to get a wife at all in
such a predicary—don't you think it would, Miss
Peyton?”
“I seldom trouble myself with such things.”
said the lady gravely, busying herself in preparations
for the morning's repast.
During this dialogue Captain Lawton had been
studying the countenance and manner of the
housekeeper, with a most ludicrous gravity; and
fearful the conversation would cease, he inquired
with an appearance of great interest—
“Then you think it was age and debility that
removed the old gentleman at last?”
“And these troublesome times,” returned the
spinster promptly; “trouble is a heavy pull down
to a sick bed; but I suppose his time had come,
and when that happens, it matters but little what
doctor's stuff we take.”
“Let me set you right in that particular,” interrupted
the surgeon gravely; “we must all die
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it is true, but it is permitted us to use the lights of
science in arresting dangers as they occur, until”—
“We can die secundum artem,” said the trooper,
drily.
To this observation the physician did not deign
to make any reply, but deeming it necessary, in
order to support his dignity, that the conversation
should continue, he added—
“Perhaps, in this instance, judicious treatment
might have prolonged the life of the patient—who
administered to the case?
“No one yet,” said the housekeeper, with quickness;
“I expect he made his last will in the testament.”
The surgeon disregarded the smile of the ladies,
and pursued his inquiries, by saying—
“It is doubtless wise to be ever prepared for
death. But under whose care was the sick man
during his indisposition?”
“Under mine,” answered Katy, with an air of a
little importance; “and care thrown away I may
well call it; for Harvey is quite too despiseable to
think any more nor that.”
There was a mutual ignorance of each other's
meaning, between the surgeon of horse and the
loquacious maiden, but it made very little interruption
in their communications—both took a good
deal for granted, and Sitgreaves pursued his questions
by asking—
“And how did you treat him?”
“Why kindly, you may be certain,” said Katy
with spirit, and rather tartly.
“The doctor means medically, madam,” said
Captain Lawton, with a face that would have honoured
the funeral of the deceased.
“I doctor'd him mostly with yarbs,” said the
housekeeper smiling her consciousness of error.
“With simples,” returned the surgeon; “they
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are safer in the hands of the unlettered than more
powerful remedies—but why had you no regular
attendant?”
“I'm sure Harvey has suffered enough already
from having so much concerns with the rig'lars,
without having one to wait on his father,” replied
the housekeeper; “he has lost his all, and made
himself a vagabond through the land—and I have
reason to rue the day I ever crossed the threshold
of his house.”
“Dr. Sitgreaves does not mean a rig'lar soldier,
but a regular physician, madam,” said the trooper,
without moving a muscle.
“Oh!” cried the maiden, again correcting herself,
with a smile, “for the best of all reasons—
there was none to be had—so I took care of him
myself. If there had been a doctor at hand I am
sure we would gladly have had him; for my part,
I am clear for doctoring, though Harvey says I
am killing myself with medicines, but I am sure
it will make but little difference to him whether I
live or die.”
“Therein you show your sense,” said the surgeon,
approaching to where the spinster sat holding
the palms of her hands and the soles of her
feet to the genial heat of a fine fire, making the
most of comfort amid all her troubles; “you appear
to be a sensible, discreet woman, and some
who have had opportunities of acquiring more
correct views, might envy you your respect for
knowledge and the lights of science.”
Although the housekeeper did not altogether
comprehend its meaning, she knew it was a compliment,
and as such was highly pleased with
the surgeon's observation; with increased animation,
therefore, she cried, “it was always
said of me, that I wanted nothing but opportunity
to make quite a physician myself—so
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long as before I came to live with Harvey's father,
they called me the bitch doctor.”
“More true than civil, I dare say,” returned
the surgeon, losing sight of the woman's character
in his admiration of her respect for the healing
art. “In the absence of more enlightened counsellors,
the experience of a discreet matron is
frequently of great efficacy in checking the progress
of disease in the human system; under such
circumstances, madam, it is dreadful to have to
contend with ignorance and obstinacy.”
“Bad enough, as I well know from experience,”
cried Katy in triumph; “Harvey is as obstinate
about such things as a dumb beast; one would
think the care I took of his bed-ridden father,
might learn him better than to despise good nursing.
But some day he may know what it is to
want a careful woman in his house, though now I am
sure he is too despiseable himself to have a house.”
“Indeed, I can easily comprehend the mortification
you must have felt in having one so selfwilled
to deal with,” returned the surgeon, glancing
his eye reproachfully at his comrade; “but you
should rise superior to such opinions, and pity the
ignorance by which they are engendered.”
The housekeeper hesitated a moment, at a loss
to comprehend all that the surgeon expressed, yet
she felt it was both complimentary and kind;
therefore, suppressing her natural flow of language
a little, she replied—
“I tell Harvey his conduct is often despiseable,
and last night he made my words good; but the
opinions of such unbelievers is not very consequential;
yet it is dreadful to think how he behaves
at times: now, when he threw away the needle—”
“What!” said the surgeon, interrupting her,
“does he affect to despise the needle? But it is
my lot to meet with men daily who are equally
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perverse, and who show a still more culpable disrespect
for the information that flows from the
lights of science.”
The doctor turned his face towards Captain
Lawton while speaking, but the elevation of the
head, prevented his eye from resting on the grave
countenance maintained by the trooper. Katy
listened with the most profound attention, and
added—
“Then Harvey is a disbeliever in the tides.”
“Not believe in the tides,” repeated the healer
of bodies in astonishment; “does the man distrust
his senses—but perhaps it is the influence of the
moon that he doubts?”
“That he does,” exclaimed Katy, shaking with
eager delight at meeting with a man of learning,
who could support her in her favorite opinions.
“If you was to hear him talk, you would think
he didn't believe there was such a thing as a moon
at all.”
“It is the misfortune of ignorance and incredulity,
madam, that they increase themselves,”
said the doctor, gravely. “The mind once rejecting
useful information, insensibly leans to superstition
and conclusions on the order of nature,
that are not less prejudicial to the cause of truth
than they are at variance with the first principles
of human knowledge.”
The spinster was too much awe-struck to venture
an undigested reply to this speech, and the
surgeon, after pausing a moment in a kind of philosophical
disdain, continued—
“That any man in his senses can doubt of the
flux of the tides is more than I could have thought
possible; yet obstinacy is a dangerous inmate to
harbor, and may lead us into any error, however
gross.”
“You think then they have an effect on the
flux,” said the housekeeper, inquiringly.
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Miss Peyton rose with a slight smile, and beckoned
her nieces to give her their assistance in the
adjoining pantry, while for a moment the dark
visage of the attentive Lawton was lighted by an
animation that vanished by an effort as powerful,
and as sudden, as the one that drew it into being.
After reflecting whether he rightly understood
the meaning of the other, the surgeon, making due
allowance for the love of learning, acting upon a
want of education, replied—
“The moon, you mean—many philosophers
have doubted how far it affects the tides; but I
think it is wilfully rejecting the lights of science
not to believe it causes both the flux and reflux.”
As reflux was a disorder the spinster was not
acquainted with, she thought it prudent to be silent
for a time; yet burning with curiosity to
know the meaning of certain portentous lights
that the other so often alluded to, she ventured to
ask—
“If them lights he spoke of were what was
called northern lights in these parts?”
In charity to her ignorance, the surgeon would
have entered into an elaborate explanation of his
meaning, had he not been interrupted by the
mirth of Lawton. The trooper had listened so
far with great composure; but now he laughed
until his aching bones reminded him of his fall,
and the tears rolled over his cheeks in larger
drops than had ever been seen there before. At
length the offended physician seized an opportutunity
to say—
“To you, Captain Lawton, it may be a source
of triumph, that an uneducated woman should
make a mistake in a subject on which men of
science have long been at variance; but yet you
find this respectable matron does not reject the
lights—the lights—does not reject the use of
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proper instruments in repairing injuries sustained by
the human frame. You may possibly remember
sir, her allusion to the use of the needle.”
“Ay,” cried the delighted trooper, “to mend
the pedlar's breeches.”
Katy drew up in evident displeasure at this allusion
to such familiarity between herself and the
nether garments of the trader, but prompt to vindicate
her character for more lofty acquirements,
said—
“'Twas not a common use that I put that
needle to—but one of much greater virtue.”
“Explain yourself, madam,” said the surgeon
impatiently, “that this gentleman may see how
little reason he has for exultation.”
Thus solicited, Katy paused to collect sufficient
eloquence with which to garnish her narrative.
The substance of which was, that a child who
had been placed by the guardians of the poor in
the keeping of Harvey, had, in the absence of its
master, injured itself badly in the foot by a large
needle. The offending instrument had been
carefully greased, wrapped in woollen, and placed
in a certain charmed nook of the chimney; while
the foot, from a fear of weakening the incantation,
was left in a state of nature. The arrival of the
pedlar had altered the whole of this admirable arrangement,
and the consequences were expressed
by Katy, as she concluded her narrative, by saying—
“'Twas no wonder the boy died of a lock-jaw.”
Dr. Sitgreaves looked out of the window in admiration
of the brilliant morning—strove all he
could to avoid the basilisk eyes of his comrade,
but in vain. He was impelled by a feeling that
he could not conquer, to look Captain Lawton in
the face. The trooper had arranged every muscle
of his countenance in perfect accordance with
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due sympathy for the fate of the poor child; but
the exultation of his eyes cut the astounded man
of science to the quick: he muttered something
concerning the condition of his patients, and retreated
with precipitation.
Miss Peyton entered into the situation of things
at the house of the pedlar, with all the interest of
her excellent feelings: she listened patiently while
Katy recounted more particularly the circumstances
of the past night as they occurred. The
spinster did not forget to dwell on the magnitude
of the pecuniary loss sustained by Harvey, and in
no manner spared her invectives at his betraying a
secret which might so easily have been kept.
“For, Miss Peyton,” continued the house-keeper,
after a pause of a moment to take breath,
“I would have given up life before I would have
given up that secret. At the most, they could
only have killed him, and now a body may say
that they have slain for this world, both soul and
body; or what's the same thing, they have made
him a despiseable vagabond. I wonder who he
thinks would be his wife, or who would keep his
house. For my part, my good name is too precious
to be living with a lone man; though, for the
matter of that, he is never there. I am resolved
to tell him this day, that stay there a single woman
I will not an hour after the funeral—and
marry him I don't think I will—unless he becomes
steadier, and more of a homebody.
The mild mistress of the Locusts suffered the
exuberance of the housekeeper's animation to expend
itself, and then, by one or two judicious
questions, that denoted a more intimate knowledge
of the windings of the human heart in matters of
Cupid, than might fairly be supposed to belong to
a spinster, she extracted enough from Katy to discover
the improbability of Harvey's ever
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presuming to offer himself, with his broken fortunes, to
the acceptance of Miss Katharine Haynes. She,
therefore, mentioned her own want of assistance
in the present state of her household, and expressed
a wish that Katy would change her residence
to the Locusts, in case the pedlar had not farther
use for her services. After a few preliminary
conditions on the part of the wary housekeeper,
she concluded the arrangement; and making a few
more piteous lamentations on the weight of her
own losses, the stupidity of Harvey, and united
with some curiosity to know the future fate of the
pedlar, Katy withdrew to make certain preparations
for the approaching funeral, which was to
take place that day.
During the interview between the maidens, Lawton,
through delicacy, had withdrawn. Anxiety
took him to the room of Captain Singleton.
The character of this youth, it has already been
shown, endeared him in a peculiar manner to
every officer in the corps. The singularly mild
deportment of the young dragoon had, on so many
occasions, been proved not to proceed from want
of manly resolution, that his almost feminine softness
of manner and appearance, had failed to bring
him into disrepute even among a band of partizan
warriors.
To the major he was as dear as a brother, and
his easy submission to the directions of his surgeon
had made him a marked favourite with Dr.
Sitgreaves. The rough usage this corps often received
in their daring attacks, had brought each
of its officers in succession under the temporary
keeping of its surgeon. To Captain Singleton
the man of science had decreed the palm on such
occasions, and Captain Lawton he had fairly
black-balled. He frequently declared, with unconquerable
simplicity and earnestness of manner,
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to his assembled comrades, that it gave him more
pleasure to see the former brought in wounded
than any officer in the squadron, and that the latter
afforded him the least—a compliment and condemnation
that was received by the first of the
parties with a quiet smile of good nature, and by
the last with a grave bow of thanks. On the present
occasion, the mortified surgeon and exulting
trooper met in the room of Captain Singleton,
as a place where they could act on common
ground. Some time was occupied in joint attentions
to the comfort of the wounded officer, and
the doctor retired to an apartment prepared for
his own accommodation; here, within a few minutes,
he was surprized by the entrance of Lawton.
The triumph of the trooper had been so complete,
that he felt he could afford to be generous, and
commencing by voluntarily throwing aside his
coat, the captain cried carelessly—
“Come, Sitgreaves, administer a little of the
aid of the lights of science to my body, if you
please.”
The surgeon was beginning to feel this was a
subject that was intolerable, but venturing his
first glance towards his comrade, he saw with surprize
the preparations he had made, and an air of
sincerity about him that was unusual to his manner
when making such a request. Changing his
intended burst of resentment to a tone of civil inquiry,
he said—
“Does Captain Lawton want any thing at my
hands?”
“Look for yourself, my dear Sit.” said the
trooper mildly; “here seem to be most of the
colours of the rainbow on this shoulder of mine.”
“Indeed you have reason for saying so,” said
the other, handling the part with great tenderness
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and consummate skill; “but happily nothing is
broken. It is wonderful how well you escaped.”
“Oh! I have been a tumbler from my youth,
and I am past minding a few falls from a horse;
but, Sitgreaves,” he added with affection, and
pointing to a scar on his body, “do you remember
this bit of work?”
“Perfectly well, Jack,” replied the doctor with
a smile, “it was bravely obtained, and neatly extracted;
but don't you think I had better apply
an oil to these bruises?”
“Certainly,” said Lawton, with unexpected
condescension.
“Now, my dear boy,” cried the doctor exultingly,
as he busied himself in applying the remedy
to the hurts, “do you not think it would have
been better to have done all this last night?”
“Quite probably,” returned the other complacently.
“Yes, Jack, but if you had let me perform
the operation of phlebotomy when I first saw
you, it would have been of infinite service.”
“No phlebotomy,” said the other positively.
“It is now too late,” replied the dejected surgeon;
“but a dose of oil would carry off the humours
famously.”
To this the captain made no reply, but gritted
his teeth in a way that showed the fortress of his
mouth was not to be assailed without a resolute
resistance, and the experienced physician changed
the subject by saying—
“It is a pity, John, that you did not catch the
rascal, after the danger and trouble you incurred.”
The captain of dragoons made no reply; and,
while placing some bandages on the wounded
shoulder, the surgeon continued—
“If I have any wish at all to destroy human life,
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it is to have the pleasure of seeing that traitor
hung.”
“I thought your business was to cure, and not
to slay,” said the trooper drily.
“Ay! but he has caused us such heavy losses
by his information, that I sometimes feel a very
unchristian temper towards that spy.”
“You should not encourage such feelings of
animosity to any of your fellow creatures,” returned
Lawton, in a tone that caused the operator
to drop a pin he was arranging in the bandages,
from his hand. He looked the patient in the
face to remove all doubts of his identity, and finding,
however, it was his old comrade, Captain
John Lawton, who had spoken, he rallied his astonished
faculties, and proceeded by saying—
“Your doctrine is just, and in general I subscribe
to it. But, John, my dear fellow, is the
bandage easy?”
“Quite.”
“Yes, I agree with you as a whole; but as
matter is infinitely divisible, so no case exists
without an exception. Lawton, don't you—do
you—feel easy?”
“Very.”
“It is not only cruel to the sufferer, but sometimes
unjust to others, to take human life where a
less punishment would answer the purpose. Now,
Jack, if you were only—move your arm a little—
if you were only—I hope you feel easier, my
dear friend?”
“Much.”
“If, my dear John, you would teach your men
to cut with more discretion, it would answer you
the same purpose—and give me great pleasure.”
The doctor drew a heavy sigh, as he was enabled
to get rid of what was nearest to his heart;
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and the dragoon coolly replaced his coat, saying
with great deliberation, as he retired—
“I know no troop that cut more judiciously—
they generally shave from the crown to the jaw.”
The disappointed operator collected his instruments,
and with a heavy heart, proceeded to pay
a visit to the room of Colonel Wellmere.
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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1821], The spy, volume 1 (Wiley & Halsted, New York) [word count] [eaf052v1].
