“A just discrimination, and one likely to render the arrangement of our little affairs less difficult! I was sure that my old friend the counsellor would not have left a son of his ignorant of principles, more especially as he was about to embark in a profession of so much responsibility.–And so, my niece had the imprudence to entertain a dealer in contraband?”
“Alderman Van Beverout, there were boats in motion on the water, between this landing and the brigantine in the Cove. A periagua even left the river for the city, at the extraordinary hour of midnight!”
“Sir, boats will move on the water, when the hands of man set them in motion; but what have I to answer for in the matter? If goods have entered the Province, without license, why, they must be found and condemned; and if free-traders are on the coast, they should be caught. Would it not be well to proceed to town, and lay the fact of this strange brigantine’s presence before the Governor, without delay?”
“I have other intentions. If, as you say, goods have gone up the bay, it is too late for me to stop them; but it is not too late to attempt to seize yon brigantine. Now, I would perform this duty in a manner as little likely to offend any of reputable name, as my allegiance will admit.”
“Sir, I extol this discretion–not that there is any testimony to implicate more than the crew, but credit is a delicate flower, and it should be handled tenderly. I see an opening for an arrangement–but, we will, as in duty bound, hear your propositions first, since you may be said to speak with the authority of the Queen. I will merely surmise that terms should be moderate, between friends;–perhaps I should say, between connexions, Captain Ludlow.”
“I am flattered by the word, Sir,” returned the young sailor, smiling with an expression of delight. “First suffer me to be admitted to the charming Cour des Fées, but for a moment.”
“That is a favor which can hardly be refused you, who may be said to have a right, now, to enter the pavilion at pleasure,” returned the Alderman, unhesitatingly leading the way through the long passage to the deserted apartments of his niece, and continuing the blind allusions to the affairs of the preceding night, in the same indirect manner as had distinguished the dialogue during the whole interview. “I shall not be unreasonable, young gentleman, and here is the pavilion of my niece; I wish I could add, and here also is its mistress!”
“And is la belle Barbérie no longer a tenant of la Cour des Fées!” demanded Ludlow, in a surprise too natural to be feigned.
Alderman Van Beverout regarded the young man in wonder; pondered a moment, to consider how far denying a knowledge of the absence of his niece might benefit the officer, in the pending negotiation; and then he dryly observed, “Boats passed on the water, during the night. If the men of Captain Ludlow were at first imprisoned, I presume they were set at liberty at the proper time.”
“They are carried I know not whither–the boat itself is gone, and I am here alone.”
“Am I to understand, Captain Ludlow, that Alida Barbérie has not fled my house, during the past night, to seek a refuge in your ship?”
“Fled!” echoed the young man, in a voice of horror. “Has Alida de Barbérie fled from the house of her uncle, at all?”
“Captain Ludlow, this is not acting. On the honor of a gentleman, are you ignorant of my niece’s absence?”
The young commander did not answer; but, striking his head fiercely, he smothered words that were unintelligible to his companion. When this momentary burst of feeling was past, he sunk into a chair, and gazed about him in stupid amazement. All this pantomime was inexplicable to the Alderman, who, however, began to see that more of the conditions of the arrangement in hand were beyond the control of his companion, than he had at first believed. Still the plot thickened, rather than grew clear; and he was afraid to speak, lest he might utter more than was prudent. The silence, therefore, continued for quite a minute; during which time, the parties sat gazing at each other in dull wonder.
“I shall not deny, Captain Ludlow, that I believed you had prevailed on my niece to fly aboard the Coquette; for, though a man who has always kept his feelings in his own command, as the safest manner of managing particular interests, yet I am not to learn that rash youth is often guilty of folly. I am now equally at a loss with yourself, to know what has become of her, since here she is not.”
“Hold!” eagerly interrupted Ludlow. “A boat left your wharf, for the city, in the earlier hours of the morning. Is it not possible that she may have taken a passage in it?”
“It is not possible. I have reasons to know–in short, Sir, she is not there.”
“Then is the unfortunate–the lovely–the indiscreet girl for ever lost to herself and us!” exclaimed the young sailor, actually groaning under his mental agony. “Rash, mercenary man! to what an act of madness has this thirst of gold driven one so fair– would I could say, so pure and so innocent!”
But while the distress of the lover was thus violent, and caused him to be so little measured in his terms of reproach, the uncle of the fair offender appeared to be lost in surprise. Though la belle Barbérie had so well preserved the decorum and reserve of her sex, as to leave even her suitors in doubt of the way her inclinations tended, the watchful Alderman had long suspected that the more ardent, open, and manly commander of the Coquette was likely to triumph over one so cold in exterior, and so cautious in his advances, as the Patroon of Kinderhook. When, therefore, it became apparent Alida had disappeared, he quite naturally inferred that she had taken the simplest manner of defeating all his plans for favoring the suit of the latter, by throwing herself, at once, into the arms of the young sailor. The laws of the colonies offered few obstacles to the legality of their union; and when Ludlow appeared that morning, he firmly believed that he beheld one, who, if he were not so already, was inevitably soon to become his nephew. But the suffering of the disappointed youth could not be counterfeited; and, prevented from adhering to his first opinion, the perplexed Alderman seemed utterly at a loss to conjecture what could have become of his niece. Wonder, rather than pain, possessed him; and when he suffered his ample chin to repose on the finger and thumb of one hand, it was with the air of a man that revolved, in his mind, all the plausible points of some knotty question.
“Holes and corners!” he muttered, after a long silence; “the wilful minx cannot be playing at hide-and-seek with her friends! The hussy had ever too much of la famille de Barbérie, and her high Norman blood about her, as that silly old valet has it, to stoop to such childish trifling. Gone she certainly is,” he continued, looking, again, into the empty drawers and closets, “and with her the valuables have disappeared. The guitar is missing–the lute I sent across the ocean to purchase, an excellently-toned Dutch lute, that cost every stiver of one hundred guilders, is also wanting, and all the–hem–the recent accessions have disappeared. And there, too, are my sister’s jewels, that I persuaded her to bring along, to guard against accidents while our backs are turned, they are not to be seen. Francois! Francois! Thou long-tried servitor of Etienne Barbérie, what the devil has become of thy mistress?”
“Mais, Monsieur,” returned the disconsolate valet, whose decent features exhibited all the signs of unequivocal suffering, “she no tell le pauvre François! En supposant, que Monsieur ask le capitaine, he shall probablement know.”
The burgher cast a quick suspicious glance at Ludlow, and shook his head, to express his belief that the young man was true.
“Go; desire Mr. Van Staats of Kinderhook to favor us with his company.”
“Hold,” cried Ludlow, motioning to the valet to withdraw. “Mr. Beverout, an uncle should be tender of the errors of one so dear as this cruel, unreflecting girl. You cannot think of abandoning her to so frightful a fortune!”
“I am not addicted to abandoning any thing, Sir, to which my title is just and legal. But you speak in enigmas. If you are acquainted with the place where my niece is secreted, avow it frankly, and permit me to take those measures which the case requires.”
Ludlow reddened to his forehead, and he struggled powerfully with his pride and his regrets.
“It is useless to attempt concealing the step which Alida Barbérie has been pleased to take,” he said, a smile so bitter passing over his features, as to lend them the expression of severe mockery; “she has chosen more worthily than either of us could have believed; she has found a companion more suited to her station, her character, and her sex, than Van Staats of Kinderhook, or a poor commander of a Queen’s ship!”