The Allen House | Page 6

to the cut-throat looking
captain, and so, after this, it was no unusual thing to hear him

designated by the not very flattering sobriquet of the "old pirate."
Later events, still more inexplicable in their character, and yet
unexplained, gave color to this story, and invested it with the elements
of probability. As related, the old gossip's second intrusion upon the
Aliens, in the capacity of nurse, furnished the town's-people with a few
additional facts, as to the state of things inside of a dwelling, upon
whose very walls seemed written mystery. In the beginning, Mrs. Allen
had made a few acquaintances, who were charmed with her character,
as far as she let herself be known. Visits were made and returned for a
short season. But after the birth of her first child, she went abroad but
rarely, and ceasing to return all visits, social intercourse came to an end.
The old nurse insisted that this was not her fault, but wholly chargeable
upon the Captain, who, she was certain, had forbidden his wife to have
anything to do with the town's-people.
CHAPTER II.

One day, nearly two years after the birth of this second child, the quiet
town of S----was aroused from its dreams by a strange and startling
event. About a week before, a handsomely dressed man, with the air of
a foreigner, alighted from the stage coach at the "White Swan," and
asked if he could have a room. A traveler of such apparent distinction
was a rare event in S----; and as he suggested the probable stay of a
week or so, he became an object of immediate attention, as well as
curiosity.
Night had closed in when he arrived, and as he was fatigued by his
journey in the old lumbering stage coach that ran between the nearest
sea-port town and S----, he did not show himself again that evening to
the curious people who were to be found idling about the "White
Swan." But he had a talk with the landlord. That functionary waited
upon him to know his pleasure as to supper.
"The ride has given me a headache," the stranger said, "which a cup of
tea will probably remove. Beyond that, I will take nothing to-night.

Your name is--"
"Adams, sir. Adams is my name," replied the landlord.
"And mine is Willoughby--Col. Willoughby. "And the Englishman
bowed with a slight air of condescension.
"I am at your service, Col. Willoughby," said the landlord in his blunt
way. "Just say what you want, and the thing is done."
"A cup of tea will serve me to-night, my friend. Let it be good and
strong; for my head is a little unsettled with this throbbing pain. That
stage coach of yours would be something better for a pair of new
springs."
"It's seen service, and no mistake. But people in these parts don't
calculate much on easy riding. Springs are no great account. We look to
the main chance."
"What is that?"
"Getting over the ground."
The traveler smiled to himself in a quiet way, as if the landlord's
answer had touched some memory or experience.
Nothing further being remarked, Mr. Adams retired to order a cup of
tea for his guest. Something about the Englishman had stimulated his
curiosity; and, so, instead of sending the cup of tea by his wife, who did
most of the waiting, he carried it to the room himself.
"Sit down, Mr. Adams," said the traveler, after the tea had been put
before him.
The landlord did not wait for a second invitation.
"I hope the tea is to your liking, sir."
"Excellent. I've not tasted better since I left London."

The traveler spoke blandly, as he held his cup a little way from his lips,
and looked over the top of it at his host with something more than a
casual glance. He was reading his face with an evident effort to gain
from it, as an index, some clear impression of his character.
"My wife understands her business," replied the flattered landlord.
"There is not her equal in all the country round."
"I can believe you, Mr. Adams. Already this delicious beverage has
acted like a charmed potion. My headache has left me as if by magic."
He set his cup down; moved his chair a little way from the table at
which he was sitting, and threw a pleasant look upon the landlord.
"How long have you been in this town, Mr. Adams?" The question
seemed indifferently asked; but the landlord's ear did not fail to
perceive in the tone in which it was given, a foreshadowing of much
beyond.
"I was born here," he replied.
"Ah! Then you know all the people, I imagine?"
"I know all their faces, at least."
"And their histories and characters?"