In Her Own Right Part 14

"Would you condemn the girl to spinsterhood, because there are few men in Northumberland, or elsewhere, who can match her in wealth?"

"Not at all! I mean, only, that the man should be able to support her according to her condition in life.--In other words, pay all the bills, without drawing on her fortune."

"Those views will never make you the leader of a popular propaganda!"

said Macloud, with an amused smile. "In fact, you're alone in the woods."

"Possibly! But the views are not irrevocable--I may change, you know.

In the meantime, let us go down to Fleet Street and interview Casey.

And then, if you're good, I'll take you to call on Miss Carrington."

"The Symphony in Blue!" exclaimed Macloud. "Come along, man, come along!"

VII

GREENBERRY POINT

There was no trouble with Casey--he had been mighty glad to take them.

And, at about noon of the following day, they drew in to the ancient capital, having made a quick and easy run from Hampton.

It was clear, bright October weather, when late summer seems to linger for very joy of staying, and all nature is in accord. The State House, where Washington resigned his commission--with its chaste lines and dignified white dome, when viewed from the Bay (where the monstrosity of recent years that has been hung on behind, is not visible) stood out clearly in the sunlight, standing high above the town, which slumbers, in dignified ease, within its shadow. A few old mansions, up the Spa, seen before they landed, with the promise of others concealed among the trees, higher up, told their story of a Past departed--a finished city.

"Where is Greenberry Point?" demanded Macloud, suddenly.

"Yonder, sir, on the far side of the Severn--the strip of land which juts out into the Bay."

"First hypothesis, dead as a musket!" looking at Croyden. "There isn't a house in sight--except the light-house, and it's a bug-light."

"No houses--but where are the trees?" Croyden returned. "It seems pretty low," he said, to the skipper; "is it ever covered with water?"

"I think not, sir--the water's just eating it slowly away."

Croyden nodded, and faced townward.

"What is the enormous white stone building, yonder?" he asked.

"The Naval Academy--that's only one of the buildings, sir, Bancroft Hall. The whole Academy occupies a great stretch of land along the Severn."

They landed at the dock, at the foot of Market Place and inquired the way to Carvel Hall--that being the hotel advised by d.i.c.k. They were directed up Wayman's alley--one of the numerous three foot thoroughfares between streets, in which the town abounds--to Prince George Street, and turning northward on it for a block, past the once splendid Brice house, now going slowly to decay, they arrived at the hotel:--the central house of English brick with the wings on either side, and a modern hotel building tacked on the rear.

"Rather attractive!" was Macloud's comment, as they ascended the steps to the brick terrace and, thence, into the hotel. "Isn't this an old residence?" he inquired of the clerk, behind the desk.

"Yes, sir! It's the William Paca (the Signer) mansion, but it served as the home of Dorothy Manners in _Richard Carvel_, and hence the name, sir: Carvel Hall. We've many fine houses here: the Chase House--he also was a Signer; the Harwood House, said to be one of the most perfect specimens of Colonial architecture in America; the Scott House, on the Spa; the Brice House, next door; McDowell Hall, older than any of them, was gutted by fire last year, but has been restored; the Ogle mansion--he was Governor in the 1740's, I think. Oh! this was the Paris of America before and during the Revolution. Why, sir, the tonnage of the Port of Annapolis, in 1770, was greater than the tonnage of the Port of Baltimore, to-day."

"Very interesting!" said Macloud. "Very interesting, indeed. What's happened to it since 1770?"

"Nothing, sir--that's the trouble, it's progressed backward--and Baltimore has taken its place."

"I see!" said Macloud, laughing. "What time is luncheon?"

"It's being served now, sir--twelve-thirty to two."

"Order a pair of saddle horses, and have them around at one-thirty, please."

"There is no livery connected with the hotel, sir, but I'll do what I can. There isn't any saddlers for hire, but we will get you a pair of 'Cheney's Best,' sir--they're sometimes ridden. However, you had better drive, if you will permit me to suggest, sir."

Croyden glanced at Macloud.

"No!--we will try the horses," he said.

It had been determined that they should ride for the reasons, as urged by Macloud, that they could go on horseback where they could not in a conveyance, and they would be less likely to occasion comment. The former of which appealed to Croyden, though the latter did not.

Macloud had borrowed an extra pair of riding breeches and puttees, from his friend, and, at the time appointed, the two men pa.s.sed through the office.

"The horses are waiting, sir!" the clerk informed them.

Two negro lads were holding a pair of rawboned nags, that resembled saddlers about as much as a cigar-store Indian does a sonata. Croyden looked them over in undisguised disgust.

"If these are Cheney's Best," he commented, "what in Heaven's name are his worst?"

"Come on!" said Macloud, adjusting the stirrups. "Get aboard and leave the kicking to the horses, they may be better than they look. Where does one cross the Severn?" he asked a man who was pa.s.sing.

"Straight up to the College green," he replied, pointing; "then one square to the right to King George Street, and on out it, across College Creek, to the Marine Barracks. The road forks there; you turn to the right; and the bridge is at the foot of the hill."

They thanked him, and rode away.

"He ought to write a guide book," said Croyden.

"How do you know he hasn't?" Macloud retorted. "Well paved streets,--but a trifle hard for riding."

"And more than a trifle dirty," Croyden added. "My horse isn't so bad--how's yours?"

"He'll do!--This must be the Naval Academy," as they pa.s.sed along a high brick wall--"Yonder, are the Barracks--the Marines are drilling in front."

They clattered over the creek, rounded the quarters of the "Hermaphrodites," and saw below them the wide bridge, almost a half a mile long, which spans the Severn. The draw was open, to let a motor boat pa.s.s through, but it closed before they reached it.

"This is exceptionally pretty!" Macloud exclaimed, drawing rein, midway. "Look at the high bluff, on the farther sh.o.r.e, with the view up the river, on one side, and down the Bay, and clear across on the other.... Now," as they wound up on the hill, "for the first road to the right."

"This doesn't look promising!" laughed Croyden, as the road swung abruptly westward and directly away from Greenberry Point.

"Let us go a little farther," said Macloud. "There must be a way--a bridle path, if nothing better--and, if we must, we can push straight through the timber; there doesn't seem to be any fences. You see, it was rational to ride."

"You're a wise old owl!" Croyden retorted.

"Ah!--there's our road!" as one unexpectedly took off to the right, among the trees, and bore almost immediately eastward. "Come along, my friend!"