the enemy, than was desirable. Even where the French lay, at Ticonderoga, his mills, in particular, might be thought in some danger, though forty or more miles distant; for parties of savages, led on by white men, frequently marched that distance through the forests, in order to break up a settlement and to commit depredations. But the enemy had crossed Lake George, the previous summer, and had actually taken Fort William Henry, at its southern extremity, by siege. It is true, this was the extent of their inroad; and, it was now known, that they had abandoned this bold conquest, and had fallen back upon Ty and Crown Point, two of the strongest military positions in the British colonies. Still, Ravensnest, as Herman Mordaunt’s property was called, was far from being beyond the limits of sorties; and the residence, at Albany, was solely to watch the progress of events in that quarter, and to be near the scene. If he had any public employment, it remained a profound mystery. A new source of embarrassment had arisen, however; and this it was that decided the proprietor to visit his lands in person. The fifteen or twenty families he had succeeded in establishing on the estate, at much cost and trouble, had taken the alarm at the prospect of a campaign in their vicinity; and had announced an intention of abandoning their huts and clearings, as the course most expedient for the times. Two or three had already gone off towards the Hampshire Grants, whence they had originally come; profiting by the last of the snow; and, it was feared, that others might imitate their caution.
Herman Mordaunt saw no necessity for this abandonment of advantages over the wilderness, that had been obtained at so much cost and trouble. The labour of a removal, and a return, was sufficient, of itself, to give a new direction to the movements of his settlers; and, as their first entrance into the country had been effected through his agency, and aided by his means, he naturally wished to keep the people he had got to his estate with so much difficulty, and at so much cost, at their several positions, as long, at least, as he conceived it to be prudent. In these circumstances, therefore, he had determined to visit Ravensnest in person, and to pass a part, if not most of the summer, among his people. This would give them confidence, and would enable him to infuse new life into their operations. It would seem, that Anneke and Mary Wallace had refused to let Mr. Mordaunt go alone; and, believing, himself, there was no danger in the course he was about to take, the father and guardian, for Mary Wallace was Herman Mordaunt’s ward, had yielded to the importunities of the two girls; and it had been formally decided that they were all to proceed together, as soon as the season should get to be a little more advanced. Intelligence of this intention had been sent to the settlers; and its effect was to induce them to remain at their posts, by pacifying their fears.
I might as well add, here, what I learned subsequently, in the due course of events. Bulstrode had been made acquainted with Herman Mordaunt’s plans, they being sworn friends, and the latter warmly in the interest of the former’s suit; and he had known how to profit by the information. It was now time to put the troops in motion; and several parties had already marched towards the north, taking post at different points that it was thought desirable to occupy, previously to the commencement of the campaign. Among other corps under orders of this nature, was that commanded by Bulstrode; and he had sufficient interest, at head-quarters, to get it sent to the point nearest to Ravensnest; where it gave him the double advantage, of having it in his power to visit the ladies, on occasion, while, at the same time, he must appear, to them, somewhat in the character of a protector. The object of Dirck and myself, in visiting the north, was no secret; and, it was generally understood, that we were to go to Mooseridge; but we did not know, ourselves, that Herman Mordaunt had an estate so near us. This intelligence, as has been said, I now ascertained, was as new to Bulstrode as it was to myself.
The knowledge of many little things I have just mentioned, was obtained by me only at intervals, and by means of observation and discourse. Nevertheless, the main points were determined on the morning on which Guert referred to his visit to the fortune-teller, and in the manner named. The conversation lasted an hour; nor did it cease, until all present got a general idea of the course intended to be pursued by the different parties present, during the succeeding summer.
It happened, that morning, that Bulstrode, Dirck, and Guert withdrew together, the two last to look at a horse the former had just purchased, leaving me alone with the young ladies. No sooner was the door closed on the retiring members of our party, than I saw a smile struggling about the handsome mouth of Anneke; Mary Wallace continuing the whole time thoughtful, if not sad.
“And you were of the party at the fortune-teller’s, too, it seems, Mr. Littlepage,” Anneke remarked, after appearing to be debating with herself on the propriety of proceeding any farther in the subject. “I knew there was such a person in Albany, and that thrifty housekeepers did sometimes consult her; but I was ignorant that men, and educated men, paid her that honour.”
“I believe there is no exception in the way of sex or learning, to her influence, or her authority. They tell me that most of the younger officers of the army visit her, while they remain here.”
“I would much like to know if Mr. Bulstrode has been of the number! He is young enough in years, though so high in rank. A major may have as much curiosity as an ensign; or, as it may appear, dear Mary, of a woman who has lost her grandmother’s favourite dessert-spoon.”
Mary Wallace gave a gentle sigh, and she even raised her eyes from her work; still, she made no answer.
“You are severe on us, Anneke;” for, since the affair on the river, the whole family treated me with the familiarity of a son or a brother—“I fancy we have done no more than Mr. Mordaunt has done in his day.”
“This may be very true, Corny, and not make the consultation the wisest thing in nature. I hope, however, you do not keep your fortune a secret, but let your friends share in your knowledge!”
“To me the woman was far from being communicative, though she treated Guert Ten Eyck better. Certainly, she told him many extraordinary things, of the past even; unless indeed, she knew who he was.”
“Is it probable, Mr. Littlepage,” said Mary Wallace, “that any person in Albany should not know Guert Ten Eyck, and a good deal of his past history? Poor Guert makes himself known wherever he is!”
“And, often much to his advantage,” I added—a remark that cost me nothing; but which caused Mary Wallace’s face to brighten, and even brought a faint smile to her lips. “All that is true; yet there was something wild and unnatural in the woman’s manner, as she told these things!”
“All of which you seem determined to keep to yourself?” observed Anneke, as one asks a question.
“It would hardly do to betray a friend’s secrets. Let Guert answer for himself; he is as frank as broad day, and will not hesitate about letting you know all.”
“I wish Corny Littlepage were only as frank as twilight!”
“I have nothing to conceal—and least of all from you, Anneke. The fortune-teller told me that the queen of my heart was the queen of too many hearts; that the river had done me no harm; and that I must particularly beware of what she called Knights-Barrownights.”
I watched Anneke closely, as I repeated this warning of Mother Doortje; but could not read the expression of her sweet and thoughtful countenance. She neither smiled nor frowned; but she certainly blushed. Of course, she did not look at me—for that would have been to challenge observation. Mary Wallace, however, did smile, and she did look at me.
“You believe all the wizzard told you, Corny?” said Anneke, after a short pause.
“I believed that the queen of my heart was the queen of many hearts; that the river had done me no harm—though I could not say, or see, that it had done me much good; and that I had much to fear from Knights-Barrownights.
