Audrey

"Mistress Audrey?" said the Governor graciously, as the lady in damask

rose from her curtsy. "Mistress Audrey whom? Mr. Haward, you gave me not

the name of the stock that hath flowered in so beauteous a bloom."

"Why, sir, the bloom is all in all,'" answered Haward. "What root it

springs from matters not. I trust that your Excellency is in good

health,--that you feel no touch of our seasoning fever?"

"I asked the lady's name, sir," said the Governor pointedly. He was

standing in the midst of a knot of gentlemen, members of the Council and

officers of the colony. All around the long room, seated in chairs arow

against the walls, or gathered in laughing groups, or moving about with a

rustle and gleam of silk, were the Virginians his guests. From the

gallery, where were bestowed the musicians out of three parishes, floated

the pensive strains of a minuet, and in the centre of the polished floor,

under the eyes of the company, several couples moved and postured through

that stately dance.

"The lady is my ward," said Haward lightly. "I call her Audrey. Child,

tell his Excellency your other name."

If he thought at all, he thought that she could do it. But such an

estray, such a piece of flotsam, was Audrey, that she could not help him

out. "They call me Darden's Audrey," she explained to the Governor. "If I

ever heard my father's name, I have forgotten it."

Her voice, though low, reached all those who had ceased from their own

concerns to stare at this strange guest, this dark-eyed, shrinking beauty,

so radiantly attired. The whisper had preceded her from the hall: there

had been fluttering and comment enough as, under the fire of all those

eyes, she had passed with Haward to where stood the Governor receiving his

guests. But the whisper had not reached his Excellency's ears. In London

he had been slightly acquainted with Mr. Marmaduke Haward, and now knew

him for a member of his Council, and a gentleman of much consequence in

that Virginia which he had come to rule. Moreover, he had that very

morning granted a favor to Mr. Haward, and by reason thereof was inclined

to think amiably of the gentleman. Of the piece of dark loveliness whom

the Virginian had brought forward to present, who could think otherwise?

But his Excellency was a formal man, punctilious, and cautious of his

state. The bow with which he received the strange lady's curtsy had been

profound; in speaking to her he had made his tones honey-sweet, while his

compliment quite capped the one just paid to Mistress Evelyn Byrd. And now

it would appear that the lady had no name! Nay, from the looks that were

being exchanged, and from the tittering that had risen amongst the younger

of his guests, there must be more amiss than that! His Excellency frowned,

drew himself up, and turned what was meant to be a searching and terrible

eye upon the recreant in white satin. Audrey caught the look, for which

Haward cared no whit. Oh, she knew that she had no business there,--she

that only the other day had gone barefoot on Darden's errands, had been

kept waiting in hall or kitchen of these people's houses! She knew that,

for all her silken gown, she had no place among them; but she thought that

they were not kind to stare and whisper and laugh, shaming her before one

another and before him. Her heart swelled; to the dreamy misery of the day

and evening was added a passionate sense of hurt and wrong and injustice.

Her pride awoke, and in a moment taught her many things, though among them

was no distrust of him. Brought to bay, she put out her hand and found a

gate; pushed it open, and entered upon her heritage of art.