The Red City Part 55

"Well, Rene," said Schmidt, behind him, "which are to be preferred, those underneath or those above ground?"

"I do not know. You startled me. To-day, for me, those above ground."

"When a man has had both experiences he may be able to answer--or not. I once told you I liked to come here. This is my last call upon these dead, some of whom I loved. What fetched you hither?"

"Oh, I was lightly wandering with good news," and he told him of the lost Despatch No. 10, and that it was to be for the time a secret.

"At last!" said Schmidt. "I knew it would come. The world may congratulate you. I am not altogether grieved that you have been through this trial. I, too, have my news. Edmund Randolph has resigned within an hour or so. Mr. Wolcott has just heard it from the President. Oh, the wild confusion of things! If you had not sent that despatch on its way, Randolph would not have fallen. A fatal paper. Let us go home, Rene."

"But how, sir, does it concern Mr. Randolph?"

"Pickering has talked of it to Bingham, whom I have seen just now, and I am under the impression that Fauchet's despatch charged Randolph with asking for money. It was rather vague, as I heard it."

"I do not believe it," said Rene.

"A queer story," said Schmidt. "A wild Jacobin's despatch ruins his Secretary for life, disgraces for a time an _emigre_ n.o.ble, turns out a cabinet minister--what fancy could have invented a stranger tale? Come, let us leave these untroubled dead."

Not until December of that year, 1795, did Randolph's pamphlet, known as his "Vindication," appear. This miserable business concerns us here solely as it affected the lives of my characters. It has excited much controversy, and even to this day, despite Fauchet's explanations to Randolph and the knowledge we now have of the papers mentioned as No. 3 and No. 6, it remains in a condition to puzzle the most astute historian. Certainly few things in diplomatic annals are more interesting than the adventures of Despatch No. 10. The verdict of "not proven" has been the conclusion reached by some writers, while despite Randolph's failure to deny the charges at once, as he did later, it is possible that Fauchet misunderstood him or lied, although why he should have done so is difficult to comprehend.

The despatch, as we have seen, affected more persons than the unfortunate Secretary. Dr. Chovet left the city in haste when he heard of Schmidt's return, and Aunt Gainor lamented as among the not minor consequences the demise of her two G.o.ds and the blue china mandarin. She was in some degree comforted by the difficult business of Margaret's marriage outfit, for Schmidt, overjoyed at the complete justification of De Courval, insisted that there must be no delay, since he himself was obliged to return to Germany in October.

Mrs. Swanwick would as usual accept no money help, and the preparations should be simple, she said, nor was it a day of vulgar extravagance in bridal presents. Margaret, willing enough to delay, and happy in the present, was slowly making her way to what heart there was in the Huguenot dame. Margaret at her joyous best was hard to resist, and now made love to the vicomtesse, and, ingenuously ready to serve, wooed her well and wisely in the interest of peace.

What Madame de Courval most liked about Margaret was a voice as low and as melodious in its changes as her own, so that, as Schmidt said, "It is music, and what it says is of the lesser moment." Thus one day at evening as they sat on the porch, Margaret murmured in the ear of the dark lady: "I am to be married in a few days; wilt not thou make me a little wedding gift?"

"My dear Margaret," cried Rene, laughing, "the jewels all went in England, and except a son of small value, what can my mother give you?"

"But, him I have already," cried Margaret. "What I want, madame has--oh, and to spare."

"Well, and what is it I am to give?" said madame, coldly.

"A little love," she whispered.

"Ah, do you say such things to Rene?"

"No, never. It is he who says them to me. Oh, I am waiting. A lapful I want of thee," and she held up her skirts to receive the gift.

"How saucy thou art," said Mrs. Swanwick.

"It is no affair of thine, Friend Swanwick," cried the Pearl. "I wait, Madame."

"I must borrow of my son," said the vicomtesse. "It shall be ready at thy wedding. Thou wilt have to wait."

"Ah," said Rene, "we can wait. Come, let us gather some peaches, Margaret," and as they went down the garden, he added: "My mother said 'thou' to you. Did you hear?"

"Yes, I heard. She was giving me what I asked, and would not say so."

"Yes, it was not like her," said the vicomte, well pleased.

The September days went by, and to all outward appearance Madame de Courval accepted with no further protest what it was out of her power to control. Uncle Josiah insisted on settling upon Margaret a modest income, and found it the harder to do so because, except Mistress Gainor Wynne, no one was disposed to differ with him. That lady told him it was shabby. To which he replied that there would be the more when he died.

"Get a permanent ground-rent on your grave," said Gainor, "or never will you lie at rest."

"It is our last ride," said Schmidt, on October the first, of this, the last year of my story. They rode out through the busy Red City and up the Ridge Road, along which General Green led the left wing of the army to the fight at Germantown, and so to the Wissahickon Creek, where, leaving their horses at an inn, they walked up the stream.

"_Ach, lieber Himmel_, this is well," said Schmidt as they sat down on a bed of moss above the water. "Tell me," he said, "more about the President. Oh, more; you were too brief." He insisted eagerly. "I like him with the little ones. And, ah, that tragedy of fallen ambition and all the while the violin music and the dance. It is said that sometimes he is pleased to walk a minuet with one of these small maids, and then will kiss the fortunate little partner."

"He did not that day; he told them he could not. He was sad about Randolph."

"When they are old, they will tell of it, Rene." And, indeed, two of these children lived to be great-grandmothers, and kissing their grandchildren's children, two of whom live to-day in the Red City, bade them remember that the lips which kissed them had often been kissed by Washington.

"It is a good sign of a man to love these little ones," said Schmidt.

"What think you, Rene? Was Randolph guilty?"

"I do not think so, sir. Fauchet was a quite irresponsible person; but what that silent old man, Washington, finally believed, I should like to know. I fear that he thought Randolph had been anything but loyal to his chief."

For a little while the German seemed lost in thought. Then he said: "You will have my horses and books and the pistols and my rapier. My life will, I hope, need them no more. I mean the weapons; but who can be sure of that? Your own life will find a use for them, if I be not mistaken.

When I am gone, Mr. Justice Wilson will call on you, and do not let the Pearl refuse what I shall leave for her. I have lived two lives. One of my lives ends here in this free land. Mr. Wilson has, as it were, my will. In Germany I shall have far more than I shall ever need. Keep my secret. There are, there were, good reasons for it."

"It is safe with me."

"Ah, the dear life I have had here, the freedom of the wilderness, the loves, the simple joys!" As he spoke, he gathered and let fall the autumn leaves strewn thickly on the forest floor. "We shall meet no more on earth, Rene, and I have loved you as few men love." Again he was long silent.

"I go from these wonder woods to the autumn of a life with duties and, alas! naught else. Sometimes I shall write to you; and, Rene, you will speak of me to your children."

The younger man said little in reply. He, too, was deeply moved, and sorrowful as never before. As they sat, Schmidt put his hand on Rene's shoulder. "May the good G.o.d bless and keep you and yours through length of honorable days! Let us go. Never before did the autumn woodlands seem to me sad. Let us go." He cast down as he rose the last handful of the red and gold leaves of the maple.

They walked down the creek, still beautiful to-day, and rode home in silence amid the slow down-drift of the early days of the fall.

In the house Margaret met them joyous. "Oh, Rene, a letter of congratulation to me! Think of it--to me, sir, from General Washington!

And one to thee!" These letters were to decide in far-away after days a famous French law-suit.

The sun shone bright on the little party which pa.s.sed among the graves into the modest Gloria Dei, the church of the Swedes. Here were the many kinsfolk; and Washington's secretary, Colonel Lear, Alexander Hamilton and Gouverneur Morris, with Binghams and Morrises; Whartons and Biddles, the forefathers of many lines of men since famous in our annals, whether of war or peace. Women there were also. Mistress Gainor in the front pew with Mrs. Swanwick and Lady Washington, as many called her, and the gay Federalist dames, who smiled approval of Margaret in her radiant loveliness.

Schmidt, grave and stately in dark velvet, gave away the bride, and the good Swedish rector, the Reverend Nicholas Cullin, read the service of the church.

Then at last they pa.s.sed into the vestry, and, as Margaret decreed, all must sign the marriage-certificate after the manner of Friends. De Courval wrote his name, and the Pearl, "Margaret Swanwick," whereat arose merriment and an erasure when, blushing, she wrote, "De Courval."

Next came Schmidt. He hesitated a moment, and then wrote "Johan Graf von Ehrenstein," to the surprise of the curious many who followed, signing with laughter and chatter of young tongues. Meanwhile the German gentleman, unnoticed, pa.s.sed out of the vestry, and thus out of my story.

"What with all these signatures, it does look, Vicomte," said young Mr.

Morris, "like the famous Declaration of Independence."

"Humph!" growled Josiah Langstroth, "if thee thinks, young man, that it is a declaration of independence, thee is very much mistaken."

"Not I," said Rene, laughing; and they went out to where Mistress Gainor's landau was waiting, and so home to the mother's house.

Here was a note from Schmidt.