Richard Carvel | Page 8

use his firearms or the
rawhide slung across his saddle. The negroes in their linsey-woolsey
jackets and checked trousers would stand among the hills grinning at us
children as we passed; and there was not one of them, nor of the white
servants for that matter, that I could not call by name.
And all this time I was busily wooing Mistress Dolly; but she, little
minx, would give me no satisfaction. I see her standing among the
strawberries, her black hair waving in the wind, and her red lips redder
still from the stain. And the sound of her childish voice comes back to
me now after all these years. And this was my first proposal:
"Dorothy, when you grow up and I grow up, you will marry me, and I
shall give you all these strawberries."
"I will marry none but a soldier," says she, "and a great man."
"Then will I be a soldier," I cried, "and greater than the Governor
himself." And I believed it.
"Papa says I shall marry an earl," retorts Dorothy, with a toss of her
pretty head.
"There are no earls among us," I exclaimed hotly, for even then I had
some of that sturdy republican spirit which prevailed among the
younger generation. "Our earls are those who have made their own way,
like my grandfather." For I had lately heard Captain Clapsaddle say this
and much more on the subject. But Dorothy turned up her nose.
"I shall go home when I am eighteen,"--she said, "and I shall meet his
Majesty the King."
And to such an argument I found no logical answer.
Mr. Marmaduke Manners and his lady came to fetch Dorothy home. He
was a foppish little gentleman who thought more of the cut of his

waistcoat than of the affairs of the province, and would rather have
been bidden to lead the assembly ball than to sit in council with his
Excellency the Governor. My first recollection of him is of contempt.
He must needs have his morning punch just so, and complained
whiningly of Scipio if some perchance were spilled on the glass. He
must needs be taken abroad in a chair when it rained. And though in the
course of a summer he was often at Carvel Hall he never tarried long,
and came to see Mr. Carvel's guests rather than Mr. Carvel. He had
little in common with my grandfather, whose chief business and
pleasure was to promote industry on his farm. Mr. Marmaduke was
wont to rise at noon, and knew not wheat from barley, or good leaf
from bad; his hands he kept like a lady's, rendering them almost useless
by the long lace on the sleeves, and his chief pastime was card-playing.
It was but reasonable therefore, when the troubles with the mother
country began, that he chose the King's side alike from indolence and
contempt for things republican.
Of Mrs. Manners I shall say more by and by.
I took a mischievous delight in giving Mr. Manners every annoyance
my boyish fancy could conceive. The evening of his arrival he and Mr.
Carvel set out for a stroll about the house, Mr. Marmaduke mincing his
steps, for it had rained that morning. And presently they came upon the
windmill with its long arms moving lazily in the light breeze, near
touching the ground as they passed, for the mill was built in the Dutch
fashion. I know not what moved me, but hearing Mr. Manners
carelessly humming a minuet while my grandfather explained the
usefulness of the mill, I seized hold of one of the long arms as it swung
by, and before the gentlemen could prevent was carried slowly upwards.
Dorothy screamed, and her father stood stock still with amazement and
fear, Mr. Carvel being the only one who kept his presence of mind.
"Hold on tight, Richard!" I heard him cry. It was dizzy riding, though
the motion was not great, and before I had reached the right angle I
regretted my rashness. I caught a glimpse of the Bay with the red sun
on it, and as I turned saw far below me the white figure of Ivie
Rawlinson, the Scotch miller, who had run out. "O haith!" he shouted.
"Hand fast, Mr. Richard!"--And so I clung tightly and came down

without much inconvenience, though indifferently glad to feel the
ground again.
Mr. Marmaduke, as I expected, was in a great temper, and swore he had
not had such a fright for years. He looked for Mr. Carvel to cane me
stoutly: But Ivie laughed heartily, and said: "I wad yell gang far for
anither laddie wi' the spunk, Mr. Manners," and with a sly look at my
grandfather, "Ilka day we hae some sic whigmeleery."
I think Mr. Carvel