the sultry august sun was slowly dying in the west as anne burras, standing before her small mirror, gave the finishing touches to her toilet. when the stars came out she would slip down to the ill-fated gold stream to meet wingfield.
her mistress came in and noted the preparations, glancing at the chain of gold around her neck.
“where got you that chain, anne?”
“it was given me by mistress hardcastle when she stayed at your house last winter.”
“she never was noted for sense,” replied her mistress. “servants have no business decked in jewelry. it does not become their station.”
pursing up her pretty lips, anne made a grimace at the back of her unconscious mistress.
“go and attend to the setting of the table for supper, while i look out wool for the carding, to-morrow,” continued mrs. forrest.
after the supper dishes had been cleared away and the twilight crept over the settlement, anne stole out to meet wingfield.122 gliding from tree to tree, she came upon him standing by the stream which emptied its rills into the james.
how handsome he was, she thought, in his rich doublet and sad-colored cloak. and how well the stiff ruff set off his pointed chin and vandyke beard. stealing softly up, she touched him upon the arm.
with a muttered oath he turned upon her. “oh, it is you, anne,” he said in a relieved voice. “how pretty you look to-night. if you only wore a velvet gown and lace ruff, with a high hat and plume, you could rival any lady at the court of king james.”
poor anne looked down upon her short stuff petticoat and clumsy shoes, and tears of mortification rose to her eyes and brimmed over upon her cheeks.
“cheer up, my pretty one! who knows what the future may hold for you? i can see you in a fine house with a maid to wait upon you, and these little hands will be soft and white again,” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.
adam had followed anne, like a hunter stalking the deer. after seeing her meeting with wingfield, he lumbered back for laydon.
“john, they are at it again, down by123 the gold stream. that pretty fool will get herself into trouble.”
hastening to the spot with adam in tow, laydon crept behind a tree, and without an atom of shame listened to the conversation.
“how would you like to see the wonderful city of rome and sail upon the mediterranean?” wingfield was saying. her reply was inaudible.
“you must not ask me when, my pretty one; leave that to me.”
stepping from behind the tree, laydon placed himself in front of the couple.
“take your villainous arms from around her, you cowardly caitiff!”
“out of my way, you sawyer of wood!” replied wingfield.
“do you intend to marry her?” demanded laydon.
“marry her?” retorted the irate wingfield, his pride stung at the thought and his conceit blinding his caution. “do you suppose a gentleman of my station would marry a servant-girl, no matter how pretty the little fool was?”
laydon sprang at his throat, his hot heart thirsting for blood. then ensued a fierce struggle as the powerful arms of the carpenter gripped the body of his adversary124 and gradually forced him backward toward the river. but wingfield had learned a trick in wrestling when a boy in england that stood him in good stead now. with a sudden twist of his foot he sent laydon sprawling upon the ground, his head striking a log in his fall. then pouncing upon the unconscious form, he heaved it into the water.
“murder, murder!” yelled adam at the top of his voice. he had taken good care not to utter a sound so long as he thought laydon had the better of it and was forcing wingfield backward toward the river.
the colonists, hearing his yells, and thinking that one of the dreaded attacks of the indians was in progress, poured from the cabins, loading their muskets on the run.
“wingfield has murdered laydon!” cried adam to the foremost runners. “he pitched him just there in the stream.”
throwing aside their muskets, they waded in, and lifting laydon from the shallow beach water bore him to the shore. while they were trying every means to restore life, president smith came up and demanded the cause of the commotion. adam, who had witnessed the whole affair, quickly put him in possession of the facts.
“wingfield, you are a prisoner, and shall leave for england to-morrow on the returning ship. it is such as you who bring disgrace upon the colony,” said the president. “let his example be a warning to you, men. as i deal with him, so will i deal with you.”
kneeling beside laydon, he put his ear against his breast.
“take him up, men. he is alive. his heart is beating. why, who is this?” he cried, gazing in astonishment upon the crouching form of anne, speechless with horror at the scene she had witnessed. “can it be possible that anne burras is mixed up in this disgrace? how will your honest mother and father feel when they hear of your conduct? fetch mrs. forrest here, martin.”
panting with haste, the worthy lady answered the summons of captain smith. he told her briefly of the trouble.
“you good-for-nothing baggage! you hussy! bread and water shall be your portion until i hear from your parents!” so saying, the irate lady caught hold of the girl, and dragged her off to the cabin. arriving there, she locked the unhappy anne in her room. “you will stay there, miss, for a week, and meditate on your folly.”
throwing herself upon her bed, the miserable girl gave way to a passionate outburst of tears. through the ensuing week her mistress came three times a day with food and drink. the harsh threat of bread and water was not carried out by mrs. forrest. after her anger wore off, pity for the misguided girl crept into her heart, and she began to make excuses to herself for anne, and even defended her against the just indignation of mr. forrest.
“you know, tom, ’tis all that villain’s fault,” argued mrs. forrest, with feminine consistency piling the entire blame upon wingfield. “anne is barely more than a child, no wonder her silly head was turned by the flattery of a fine gentleman. her betters have fallen into that trap more than once before. and you know, tom,” she continued, as she heaped his breakfast plate with broiled fish, fresh from the glowing coals, “we were young ourselves not so many years ago, so don’t be so hard upon the lassie,” and the girlish light of courtship’s days beamed again in her eyes as she drew back his head and touched his cheek with soft kisses.
“ah, you are at your old tricks of wheedling again,” replied her husband, all the while delighting in her caresses.
