Audrey

From the white quarter he procured a facile lad who could read and write,

and who, through too much quickness of wit, had failed to prosper in

England. Him he installed as secretary, and forthwith began a

correspondence with friends in England, as well as a long poem which was

to serve the double purpose of giving Mr. Pope a rival and of occupying

the mind of Mr. Marmaduke Haward. The letters were witty and graceful, the

poem was the same; but on the third day the secretary, pausing for the

next word that should fall from his master's lips, waited so long that he

dropped asleep. When he awoke, Mr. Haward was slowly tearing into bits the

work that had been done on the poem. "It will have to wait upon my mood,"

he said. "Seal up the letter to Lord Hervey, boy, and then begone to the

fields. If I want you again, I will send for you."

The next day he proposed to himself to ride to Williamsburgh and see his

acquaintances there. But even as he crossed the room to strike the bell

for Juba a distaste for the town and its people came upon him. It occurred

to him that instead he might take the barge and be rowed up the river to

the Jaquelins' or to Green Spring; but in a moment this plan also became

repugnant. Finally he went out upon the terrace, and sat there the morning

through, staring at the river. That afternoon he sent a negro to the

store with a message for the storekeeper.

The Highlander, obeying the demand for his company,--the third or fourth

since his day at Williamsburgh,--came shortly before twilight to the great

house, and found the master thereof still upon the terrace, sitting

beneath an oak, with a small table and a bottle of wine beside him.

"Ha, Mr. MacLean!" he cried, as the other approached. "Some days have

passed since last we laid the ghosts! I had meant to sooner improve our

acquaintance. But my house has been in disorder, and I myself,"--he passed

his hand across his face as if to wipe away the expression into which it

had been set,--"I myself have been poor company. There is a witchery in

the air of this place. I am become but a dreamer of dreams."

As he spoke he motioned his guest to an empty chair, and began to pour

wine for them both. His hand was not quite steady, and there was about him

a restlessness of aspect most unnatural to the man. The storekeeper

thought him looking worn, and as though he had passed sleepless nights.