The sun was now hovering with his broad jolly
red face, a little way above the clear horizon to

[figure description] Page 354.[end figure description]

the westward, when Mistress Arabella Fenton
sat on the bank of the broad river, lamenting in
the silence of a broken heart, the absence, and
probable fate of her husband and child. The
good Hardin essayed to console her with bright
thoughts of the future, but she would not be comforted.
Time and occupation are the only remedies
for grief like hers; for though religion may
teach us resignation, it cannot teach us to forget.

“Does the fresh breeze revive you?” said the
good Hardin.

She took no notice, but continued looking earnestly
towards the distant ocean.

“I am a lonely woman now, without a husband
or a child,” at length she said. “I could wish
before I die, to visit England, and my father's
house once more; and pray for the peace of the
departed souls of my good forefathers. My husband
and my boy! they have no graves; their
bones will lie and bleach in the wild woods; yet
they are happier than I.”

“Then why lament them?” asked Hardin.

“O do not bait me with such reasonings,” cried
she, impatiently. “Do you think that when we
shed our bitter tears over the dead that were dear
to us, it is for them? No, no! it is for ourselves
and our bereavements that we mourn, not for the
dead. I had rather have my husband and my
child with me here, in the midst of all the woes
that compass me round, than know that they were

[figure description] Page 355.[end figure description]

rejoicing among the stars, in speechless happiness,
and I not with them. Such is my woman's
heart. But come hither Hardin,” cried she, after
a pause, and looking earnestly. “If my eyes do
not deceive me, there is a little speck of white
yonder far down the river.”

“Where madam?” asked Hardin, eagerly.

“Yonder, in that direction.”

“A sea-gull, or a white wave perhaps,” said he.

“See! another speck, and now they grow larger!
It is, it must be the ships! Watch, watch good
Hardin.”

“Sure, there is something,” cried he. “Gracious
power, may it be so!”

They now attentively watched the specks,
which gradually expanded larger and larger as
they approached, and at length could plainly
distinguish two vessels, ploughing their way with
a light southerly breeze.

My prayers are heard,” cried Hardin. “It is,
it is the ships; now we shall be happy again.”

“Happy!” replied she, reproachfully; “my
child and husband cannot share these rejoicings;
the physician comes when the patient is buried.”

Shouts were now heard in the village, mingled
with exclamations of “They've come—they've
come!”

“Are not they ashamed to rejoice,” cried Arabella,
“when I am broken hearted? I cannot
bear it; let me go to the woods where I shall hear

[figure description] Page 356.[end figure description]

nothing but whoops and howlings—I'll not stay
here to be trampled on!”

Again the shouts and exclamations rent the
silence of the twilight air, coming nearer and
nearer.

“Impious men!” exclaimed she, distractedly.
“I will not stay here to be laughed at;” and was
rushing wildly towards the adjoining wood, when
she was met by Fenton, who caught her in his arms,
where she remained for a while insensible. Fenton
took off her hat, parted her brown hair from
her pale white forehead, and kissed it. At length
her colour came again, and when the boy cried
“wake up mother; you don't seem glad to see
us,” she revived, and passing from the embraces
of the one, to those of the other, wept upon
their bosoms. “And you too, poor Anne,” said
she; “I knew that you would bring him home
again, or never come home yourself. I thought
the shouts I heard were for the ships we saw just
now.”

“What ships?” cried Vere.

“Two,” answered Hardin, “bearing hitherward.
We saw them a minute ago.” And see!
there they are again, coming round the point.”

“But that the sight is too good to believe,”
cried Vere, “I should think I saw two ships.
It must be the flying Dutchman and his consort.
Will any of you good people convince me I'm
not dreaming? 'Tis plain as the sun,” added he,

[figure description] Page 357.[end figure description]

after looking again. “They're ships, true heart
of oak ships. Huzza! huzza! do'st weep for joy,
Percie; for I suppose it would go against your
conscience to commit the sin of laughing?”

“I rejoice,” replied the other, “for the sake of
these suffering people; but for myself, these ships
can bring nothing that I care for. The land
whence they come, the ocean they have ploughed,
bears nothing that I ever wish to see.”

“Every one to his notion,” cried Vere, gaily.
“Thank fortune, I was born in the day time; the
sun is my tutelary, and I scorn the snivelling,
weeping stars. If there should chance to be such
a person as one Sir Loin, an old acquaintance I've
not seen for some time, and the only knight our
scurvy King James ever made, that was worth the
spurs—if I don't receive him with open arms, call
me a crop-ear. Hey, Master Justice,” addressing
Justice Knapp, who had just made his appearance,
with Master Lavender, in hot discussion, as usual.

“Master Lavender, be dumb,” quoth the Justice.
“For all thy threats, I see thou art enamoured
of my company.”

“Lookee, Justice,” replied the other, “though
I despise thy cowardice, and have no respect for
thy discretion, yet, inasmuch as valour shines by
contrast, I do give mine a gloss by rubbing it
against the dirt of thy demerits.”

“A fig for thy scurvy conclusions! 'Sfoot!
art just like a button of cheese paring on a satin

[figure description] Page 358.[end figure description]

doublet, deriving all thy consequence with the
commonalty from the company thou keepest. But
is it gospel, Master Vere, two ships.”

“As true as if it were gospel, Justice.”

“Then will I signalize my gratitude by a donation
to the poor,” cried he, rummaging his pocket
and bringing forth a periwinkle. “Mr. Periwinkle,
I bestow thee in charity on Master Lavender
here, that when he hath eaten thee out of house
and home, he may ensconce himself in thine armour,
and shelter his inordinate ferocity in time
of danger.”

“Keep it thyself, thou empty twiggin-bottle,
with a huge rotundity, and not a drop of spirit. I
see clearly I shall be obliged to offer thee up to
the infernal gods.”

“Here, now,” quoth the Justice, continuing to
empty his pockets. “Here is a black leathern
strap, which I did reserve for the last extremity—”

“To hang thyself,” cried the other, “I hope.
He did steal this of a poor cobbler. He has the
itch of a baboon for thieving, and would rob any
man of his good name, though he hath not the
grace to convert it to his own use afterwards.”

“To hang myself?” said Knapp—“No, marry—
to beat thee into some remote probability of
valour, so that in good time, with the aid of cold
water, thou mayest be brought to look thy tailor
in the face, even though armed with a long bill.”

[figure description] Page 359.[end figure description]

“Thou clucking old hen hussey—but I'll beat
thee into dust for this.”

“Gad-a-mercy! then shall I flee before the
wind as fast as thou art wont to flee before the
enemy.”

“Why, Justice,” cried Vere, “you are victualled
for a six months' cruise—a voyage round the world
with Sir Francis.”

“Foresight, Master Vere. I learnt it of the
squirrel, who fills his maw with nuts for a time of
scarcity.”

“Learnt it of a squirrel, forsooth!” cried Lavender.
“Why he inherited the love of other
men's goods from his ancestors. Sixteen generations
of them died of the quinsy. The disease
ran in the family.”

“But see!” exclaimed Vere, as the ships once
more emerged from behind the projections of the
river—“now they round to—now they furl their
sails—now they hoist out the boat—and now—
huzza! I see a rara avis, a woman let down the
sides! Take notice, my masters, I bespeak her
in lawful wedlock, be she old, ugly, witch, maid,
widow, or widow bewitched. Avaunt, Master
Lavender—I do fear thy embroidered satin doublet.”

“Above all,” quoth Knapp, “beware of his inordinate
and sinful valour. Why he hath the
courage of ten hen patridges. But, marry, here
they come sure enough, and a woman with them;

[figure description] Page 360.[end figure description]

a wonder in this world, whether she can keep a secret
or not.”

A boat was now seen to put off from the ships,
and make for the shore. Its passengers were received
with shaking of hands, and shouts of welcome
greetings. There were no strangers here.
They had met in a new world, and all felt like
brothers. Among those who came ashore in the
boat, was a veiled lady, who was assisted to land
by an old white haired man, who seemed somewhat
between a servant and a friend. On landing, she
looked around with great apparent earnestness, as
if seeking some one she knew in the crowd, but
who was not there, as it would seem, for she
pressed her hand to her bosom, and turning away
her head, leaned as if for support, on the old man.
By degrees, the crowd dispersed towards the town,
leaving the lady and her attendant alone, each one
being apparently too much taken up with others,
to observe them. I cannot excuse this want of
gallantry, especially where ladies were so scarce,
but so it was.

During the foregoing scene, Percie, who sickened
at every thing that reminded him of England,
remained aloof, quietly, yet sorrowfully, contemplating
the warm welcomes given and received.
His heart swelled with a sense of loneliness, and
desolation—the more sad and heavy, from his inability
to share in the warm feelings that animated
all around him. At length his attentio was

[figure description] Page 361.[end figure description]

attracted by the stranger lady, who seemed to be
weeping sorely, for ever and anon, she put her
handkerchief under her veil, as if to wipe away
her tears. The sight of a woman and a stranger
weeping, and seeming to know no one, excited his
sympathy; he approached her and offered his services.
The lady seemed greatly agitated, but
made no answer, while the old man, uttering an
exclamation of joyful surprise, retired to a little
distance, and remained silent also.

“Is there any one you wish to see?” continued
Percie—“any one that you hoped to meet,
and are disappointed? Name him, and I will
guide you to him, if he is here.”

The lady remained silent, while her agitation
shook her whole frame. What can this mean,
thought Percie. Perhaps she has come here to
meet some one, who is dead. “Tell me, madam,
who is it you seek? Mine is not an idle curiosity,
believe me.”

“One Robert Percie, of the North, erewhile,”
answered she, at length, in a hurried and trembling
voice, that, to say the truth, was not quite so soft
as became a fair lady.

“Robert Percie!” echoed he. “But you are, I
fear, sporting with my busy prying. Indeed, madam,
though rude, I meant it kindly. I am Robert
Percie.”

“Indeed, sir,” replied the lady, “I am not in a
jesting mood. I am in search of him I said—

[figure description] Page 362.[end figure description]

I come from one, who bade me tell you that once
you swore you loved her—one whom you left alone
to struggle with a guardian's power, a lover's
stratagems—one whom you suspected most wrongfully—
deserted without cause—and left almost
broken hearted. She sends this ring in token of
my message.”

Percie took the ring—it was one he had exchanged
with Rose Beverley, on the day they were
affianced. It wakened a thousand bitter pangs.

“Beware—beware, madam, whoever you are—
unless you wish to make me mad again, and drive
me to some other world, more distant and wild
than this. Suspect her wrongfully! O convince me
of that! But, pshaw! Is'nt she now, at this very
moment, revelling in the spoils of a poor younger
brother's happiness, and laughing over the story
of his wrongs, in the incestuous claspings of an
elder one? Is she not married? That's enough
for me.”

“She is not married!” answered the lady, firmly.

“What!” cried Percie—“What!—has the
spoiler revelled in her charms, and then left her,
sated with them, ere the wedding day? Not married?
But now I remember. Our father's funeral,
as I have just now learned, has scarce gone by,
and the forms of decency must be observed, even
where corruption harbours all her scorpions.
She's waiting, I suppose, till the mourning is put

[figure description] Page 363.[end figure description]

off, and in the interval, whiles away the tedious
year of sorrow, with proud anticipations.”

“Alas! not she,” answered the veiled lady.
“She is a wanderer from her home, seeking one,
whose heart is turned to stone, who stands as her
accuser and her judge, condemns her unheard,
and tortures before he murders her. One who was
at first blind to her real worth, and is now deaf to
her vindication.”

“On thy soul, is this true?” cried Percie, trembling
with uncontrollable hopes and fears. “O
trifle not, lady, with me. I have been mad
once, and may be so again. Yet this ring! I
gave it her one night, when the soul's harmony,
sweet silence reigned; and then she swore, by all
those everlasting sentinels of heaven, she would
be as true as they. I cannot think she could have
broke such vows, and wilfully.”

“She did not break them,” replied the lady. “Answer
me, Robert Percie—as there is truth in man,
or justice in heaven for liars—did you leave her
because you doubted her affection, or had outlived
your own?”

“Look at me, lady,” rejoined Percie “Do
I seem like a man whose heart is whole, or happy?
What think you was it that banished me from
England? What chased me from my home, to
seek the desert of the world, for such it is to those
whose hearts are widowed like mine. Look at

[figure description] Page 364.[end figure description]

this blighted trunk, and then tell me if I forsook,
or was forsaken. Have you no letter?” asked he,
eagerly.

“None,” replied the lady; “but she sent her
picture, with a command that if I found you true,
to beg you would wear it for her sake.”

“O give it me at once! you cannot doubt.”

“You will hardly know it now,” said she; “the
colours of the master have so faded.”

Saying this, she unveiled her face, and disclosed
to the astonished and enraptured Percie, the
pale, faded, yet lovely face of his early love.

Deeming it highly indecorous in a writer, to
disclose in words, those actions which delicacy
shrinks from exhibiting before the world; and
holding it to be taking a great liberty with even
one's own heroine to show her off in the embraces
of any body, but her husband; I shall draw a
veil over the transports which followed this discovery.
Suffice it to say, that all that love, tempered
with modest maidenhood, could offer without
blame, was received and returned without
presumption or indelicacy.

“A thousand and a thousand times welcome!
my beloved Rose,” at length Percie exclaimed.
“But tell me all the past, and how you found your
way hither alone.”

“I did not come alone, I had a beau; but I hope
you'll not be jealous,” said Rose, with one of her
wonted smiles.

[figure description] Page 365.[end figure description]

“Jealous! O no, never again. But I am a little
curious; who was it Rose.”

“Old Kenrick.”

“Old Kenrick! why Gilbert will grow young
again when he hears this. He shall be welcome
to my palace.”

“True, where is your palace? The evening is
setting in, and—but now I think of it—till—till—”
Here she stopped, and the long absent colours returned
to her cheek, spreading it with vermillion.

“Till what,” inquired Percie.

“Till I can build a palace for myself. In the
meantime I must seek some female protector, if
there be any one that will receive a run away
damsel.”

“Well,” answered Percie, “since my humble
dwelling is beneath you, I am sure the kind Mistress
Arabella Fenton will receive you as a sister,
till we can build you a palace.”

“Come, then, I'll trust myself with you once
more,” answered Rose, gaily. “You'll not run
away from me again, will you?” Then looking
in his face tenderly, she continued—“You look
pale and thin; and if the truth must be told, a
little rusty and old fashioned; and yet I should
have known you any where. The instinct of a
woman's love puts all your boasted reason to
shame. Did not you suspect me a little?”

“Once or twice,” said Percie, “an idea came
across me, that I had heard that voice before. Yet

[figure description] Page 366.[end figure description]

in truth you croaked so naturally, that I was effectually
deceived. But come, the dews are falling;
lean on my arm; this new born happiness has
taken away all my manhood.”

Mistress Fenton received her fair visiter with a
kindness, a richness of welcome, which set an example
that has ever since been followed by the
descendants of the early adventurers in Virginia,
insomuch that travellers there, often commit an
anti-quixotic blunder, in mistaking castles for
inns, instead of inns for castles.

The arrival of the ships brought such an accession
of strength and food to the poor colonists,
that from this time they flourished free from all
apprehension of famine or the Indians. A few
weeks saw the union of Percie and Rose, of Layton
and Anne Burras, whose repective, and respectable
descendants still flourish in the possession
of a liberal competency. Both Percie and
Fenton became, in process of time, members of
the council; and Mistress Arabella lived to see
her sons and daughters grow up, healthful, virtuous,
and happy. The gallant Vere, only remained
a bachelor, until he could save a hogshead of
tobacco, with which he endowed a little damsel
from Eastcheape, who came out to seek her fortune
in one of the subsequent arrivals. Justice Knapp,
tired at length of being an idle magistrate, became
an industrious publican, whereby he fulfilled
his destiny beyond doubt. Master Hyacinth

[figure description] Page 367.[end figure description]

Lavender, not long after the period in which our story
comes to an end, departed for England, to take
possession of a competent estate, which came to
him by the death an elder brother.

“Would I were the keeper of an ordinary, near
the theatres,” said Knapp, as he bade him farewell;
“I should infallibly receive a conveyance
of thy estate in tavern bills.”

“I would thou wert,” quoth the other; “for
then could I cudgel thee daily in part payment of
my dinner. Adieu, publican.”

“Farewell, sinner!” and thus they parted forever.