arsonage, there crept a tightened
smile. In her way, when she was not in a passion, she was fond of Audrey;
but, in temper or out of temper, she was fonder of the fine things which
for a few days she might handle at Fair View house. And the gratitude of
the master thereof might appear in coins, or in an order on his store for
silk and lace. When, in her younger days, at Bath or in town, she had
served fine mistresses, she had been given many a guinea for carrying a
note or contriving an interview, and in changing her estate she had not
changed her code of morals. "We must oblige Mr. Haward, of course," she
said complacently. "I warrant you that I can give things an air! There's
not a parlor in this parish that does not set my teeth on edge! Now at my
Lady Squander's"--She embarked upon reminiscences of past splendor,
checked only by her husband's impatient demand for dinner.

Audrey, preparing to follow her into the kitchen, was stopped, as she
would have passed the table, by the minister's heavy hand. "The roses at
Fair View bloom early," he said, turning her about that he might better
see the red cluster in her hair. "Look you, Audrey! I wish you no great
harm, child. You mind me at times of one that I knew many years ago,
before ever I was chaplain to my Lord Squander or husband to my Lady
Squander's waiting-woman. A hunter may use a decoy, and he may also, on
the whole, prefer to keep that decoy as good as when 'twas made. Buy not
thy roses too dearly, Audrey."

To Audrey he spoke in riddles. She took from her hair the loosened buds,
and looked at them lying in her hand. "I did not buy them," she said.
"They grew in the sun on the south side of the great house, and Mr. Haward
gave them to me."

CHAPTER XII

THE PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN

June came to tide-water Virginia with long, warm days and with the odor of
many roses. Day by day the cloudless sunshine visited the land: night by
night the large pale stars looked into its waters. It was a slumberous
land, of many creeks and rivers that were wide, slow, and deep, of tobacco
fields and lofty, solemn forests, of vague marshes, of white mists, of a
haze of heat far and near. The moon of blossoms was past, and the red
men--few in number now--had returned from their hunting, and lay in the
shade of the trees in the villages that the English had left them, while
the women brought them fish from the weirs, and strawberries from the
vines that carpeted every po