Prisoners of Hope | Page 6

and childlike
content took possession of their souls. With eager and obsequious "Yes,
Mas'rs" they obeyed the overseer's objurgatory indications as to their
disposition.
There next arose above the landing the head of a white man--a
countenance of sullen ferocity, with a great scar running across it, and
framed in elf locks of staring red. The body belonging to this
prepossessing face was swollen and unshapely, and its owner moved
with a limp and a muttered curse towards the place assigned him. He
was followed by a sallow-faced, long-nosed man, with black oily hair
and an affected smirk which twitched the corners of his thin lips.
Singling out his master's family with a furtive glance from a pair of
sinister greenish eyes, he made a low bow and stepped jauntily into

line.
The third man rose above the landing. Sir Charles, standing by Patricia,
laughed.
"This world is a place of fantastic meetings, cousin," he said, airily.
"Now who would suppose that I would ever again see that chipping
from a London gaol I told you of--my shipmate of cleanly habit and
unsocial nature. Yet there he is."
CHAPTER II
ITS CARGO
The afternoon sunshine lay hot upon the house and garden of Verney
Manor--the leaves drooped motionless, the glare of the white paths hurt
the eye, the flowers seemed all to be red. The odor of rose and
honeysuckle was drowned in the heavy cloying sweetness of the
pendant masses of locust bloom. Down in the garden the bees droned in
the vines, and on the steps the flies buzzed undisturbed about the
sleeping hounds. Above the long, deserted wharf and the green velvet
of the marshes quivered the heated air, while to look upon the water
was like gazing too closely at blue flame. From the tobacco fields
floated the notes of a monotonous many-versed chant, and a soft,
uninterrupted cooing came from the dove cot. Heat and fragrance and
drowsy sound combined to give a pleasant somnolence to the wide
sunny scene.
Deep in the cavernous shade of the porch lounged the master of the
plantation, his body in one chair, his legs in another, and a silver
tankard of sack standing upon a third, over the back of which had been
flung his great peruke and his riding coat of green cloth, discarded
because of the heat. Thin, blue clouds curled up from his long pipe, and
obscured his ruddy countenance.
His shrewd gray eyes under their tufts of grizzled hair were half closed
in a lazy contentment, born of the hour, the pipe, and the drink. The
world went very well just then in Colonel Verney's estimation. His crop

of the preceding year had been a large and profitable one; this year it
bid fair to be still more satisfactory. During the past few months he had
acquired a number of servants and slaves, and his head rights would
add a goodly number of acres to his already enormous holdings; land,
land, always more land! being the ambition and the necessity of the
seventeenth century Virginia planter. Trader, planter, magistrate,
member of the council of state, soldier, author on occasion, and fine
gentleman all rolled into one, after the fashion of the times; Cavalier of
the Cavaliers, hand in glove with Governor Berkeley, and possessed of
a beautiful daughter, for whose favor one half of the young gentlemen
of the counties of York and Gloucester were ready to draw rapier on the
other half,--Colonel Verney's world was a fair and stirring one, and
gave him plentiful food for meditation on a fine afternoon.
Opposite him sat his kinsman and guest, Sir Charles Carew. He was
similarly equipped with pipe and sack, but there the resemblance to his
host ended, Sir Charles Carew being a man who made it a point of
honor to be clad like the lilies of the field on every possible occasion in
life, from the carrying a breach to the ogling a milkmaid. The sultry
afternoon had no power to affect the scrupulous elegance of his attire,
or to alter the careful repose of his manner. In his hand he held a
volume of "Hudibras," but his thoughts were not upon the book,
wandering instead, with those of his kinsman, over the fertile fields of
Verney Manor.
"You have a princely estate, sir, in this fair, new world," he said at last,
in a sweetly languid voice.
The planter roused himself from considering at what point of his newly
acquired land he should begin the attack upon the forest. "It's a fair
enough home for a man to end his days in," he said with complacence.
"We of the court have very erroneous ideas as to Virginia. I confess
that my expectation of finding a courteous and loving kinsman," a
gracious smile and