The industry and movements of the rider were not less remarkable than those of the ridden. At each change in the evolutions of the latter, the former raised his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in this manner, by the undue elongation of his legs, such sudden growths and diminishings of the stature, as baffled every conjecture that might be made as to his character. If to this be added the fact, that in consequence of the ex parte application of the spur, one side of the mare appeared to journey faster than the other; and that the aggrieved flank was resolutely indicated, by unremitted flourishes of her bushy tail, we finish the picture of both horse and man.
The frown which had gathered around the handsome, open, and manly brow of Heyward, gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a slight smile, as he regarded the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to control her merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful eye of Cora, lighted with a humour that, it would seem, the habit, rather than the nature of its mistress, repressed.
“Seek you any here?” demanded Heyward, when the other had arrived sufficiently nigh to abate his speed; “I trust you are no messenger of evil tidings.”
“Even so,” replied the stranger, making diligent use of his triangular castor, to produce a circulation in the close air of the woods, and leaving his hearers in doubt, to which of the young man’s questions he responded; when, however, he had cooled his face, and recovered his breath, he continued, “I hear you are riding to William Henry; as I am journeying thitherward myself, I concluded good company would seem consistent to the wishes of both parties.”
“The division of voices would appear to be unjustly measured,” returned Heyward; “We are three, whilst you have no one to consult but yourself.”
“Not more unjustly, than that one gallant should be charged with the care and keeping of two youthful ladies,” said the other, with a manner divided between simplicity and vulgar repartee. “If, however, he be a true man, and they true women, they will despite each other’s humour, and come over to his opinion, in all matters of contradictory opinions; so you have no more to consult than I!”
The fair maiden dropped her laughing eyes to the bridle of her filly, and the slight flush on her cheek deepened to a rich bloom; while the glowing tints of her companion’s colour altered even to paleness, as she slowly rode ahead, like one who already tired of the interview.
“If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken your route,” said Heyward, haughtily; “the highway thither is at least half-a-mile behind you.”
“Even so,” returned the stranger, nothing daunted by this cold reception; “I have tarried at ‘Edward’ a week, and I should be dumb, not to have inquired the road I was to journey; and if dumb, there would be an end to my calling.” After simpering in a small way, like one whose modesty prohibited a more open expression of his admiration of a witticism, that was perfectly unintelligible to his hearers, he continued, with becoming gravity, “It is not prudent for one of my profession to be too familiar with those he has to instruct; for which reason, I follow not the line of the army: besides which, I conclude that a gentleman of your character, has the best judgment in matters of way-faring; I have therefore decided to join company, in order that the ride may be made agreeable, and partake of social communion.”
“A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!” exclaimed Heyward, undecided whether to give vent to his growing anger, or to laugh aloud in the other’s face. “But you speak of instruction, and of a profession; are you an adjunct to the provincial corps, as a master of the noble science of defence and offence? or, perhaps, you are one who draws lines and angles, under the pretence of expounding the mathematics?”
The stranger regarded his interrogator a moment, in open wonder; and then, losing every mark of self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn humility, he answered:
“Of offence, I hope there is none, to either party: of defence, I make none–by God’s good mercy, having committed no palpable sin, since last entreating his pardoning grace. I understand not your allusions about lines and angles; and I leave expounding, to those who have been called and set apart for that holy office. I lay claim to no higher gift, than a small insight into the glorious art of petition and thanksgiving, as practised in psalmody.”
“The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of Apollo,” cried the amused Alice, who had recovered from her momentary embarrassment, “and I take him under my own especial protection. Nay, throw aside that frown, Heyward, and, in pity to my longing ears, suffer him to journey in our train. Besides,” she added, in a low and hurried voice, casting a glance at the distant Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps of their silent but sullen guide, “it may be a friend added to our strength in time of need.”
“Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I love by this secret path, did I imagine such need could happen?”
“Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this strange man amuses me; and if he ‘hath music in his soul,’ let us not churlishly reject his company.” She pointed persuasively along the path, with her riding whip, while their eyes met in a look, which the young man lingered a moment to prolong, then, yielding to her gentle influence, he clapt his spurs into his charger, and in a few bounds, was again at the side of Cora.
“I am glad to encounter thee, friend,” continued the maiden, waving her hand to the stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narraganset to renew its amble. “Partial relatives have almost persuaded me, that I am not entirely worthless in a duette myself; and we may enliven our way-faring, by indulging in our favourite pursuit. It might be of signal advantage to one, ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and experience of a master in the art.”
“It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the body, to indulge in psalmody, in befitting seasons,” returned the master of song, unhesitatingly complying with her intimation to follow; “and nothing would relieve the mind more, than such a consoling communion. But four parts are altogether necessary to the perfection of melody. You have all the manifestations of a soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid, carry a full tenor to the highest letter; but we lack counter and bass! Yon officer of the king, who hesitated to admit me to his company, might fill the latter, if one may judge from the intonations of his voice in common dialogue.”
“Judge not too rashly, from hasty and deceptive appearances,” said the lady, smiling; “though Major Heyward can assume such deep notes, on occasion, believe me, his natural tones are better fitted for a mellow tenor, than the bass you heard.”
“Is he, then, much practised in the art of psalmody?” demanded her simple companion.
Alice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in suppressing the sounds of her merriment, ere she answered,–
“I apprehend that he is rather addicted to profane song. The turmoils and chances of a soldier’s life, are but little fitted for the encouragement of more sober inclinations.”
“Man’s voice is given to him, like his other talents, to be used, and not to be abused,” said her companion. “None can say they have ever known me neglect my gifts! I am thankful that, though my boyhood may be said to have been set apart, like the youth of the royal David, for the purposes of music, no syllable of rude verse has ever profaned my lips.”
“You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred song?”
“Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all other language, so does the psalmody that has been fitted to them by the divines and sages of the land, surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may say, that I utter nothing but the thoughts and the wishes of the King of Israel himself; for though the times may call for some slight changes, yet does this version, which we use in the colonies of New-England, so much exceed all other versions, that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spiritual simplicity, it approacheth, as near as may be, to the great work of the inspired writer. I never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, without an example of this gifted work. ’Tis the six-and-twentieth edition, promulgated at Boston, Anno Domini, 1744; and is entitled, ‘The Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments; faithfully translated into English Metre, for the Use, Edification, and Comfort of the Saints in Public and Private, especially in New-England.”’