Books: Janice Meredith

P >> Paul Leicester Ford >> Janice Meredith

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41

This eBook was prepared by Jeffrey Kraus-yao.

Janice Meredith

Paul Leicester Ford

Wallack's
Theatre
100th Performance

Mary Mannering
as
Janice Meredith

February 15th
1901

Janice Meredith

Volume I.

Books by Mr. Ford

The Honorable Peter Stirling
The Great K & A Train Robbery
The Story of an Untold Love
The True George Washington
Tattle-Tales of Cupid
The Many-Sided Franklin
The New England Primer

[Illustration: Janice Meredith (Miniature in color)]

Janice Meredith
A Story of the
American Revolution
by
Paul Leicester Ford
Author of "The Honorable Peter Stirling"

With a Miniature by Lillie V. O'Ryan
and numerous Scenes from the Play

Mary Mannering Edition

To George W. Vanderbilt

My dear George:
Into the warp and woof of every book an author weaves much
that even the subtlest readers cannot suspect, far less discern.
To them it is but a cross and pile of threads interlaced to
form a pattern which may please or displease their taste.
But to the writer every filament has its own association:
How each bit of silk or wool, flax or tow, was laboriously
gathered, or was blown to him; when each was spun by the
wheel of his fancy into yarns; the colour and tint his imagination
gave to each skein; and where each was finally woven
into the fabric by the shuttle of his pen. No thread ever quite
detaches itself from its growth and spinning, dyeing and weaving,
and each draws him back to hours and places seemingly
unrelated to the work.
And so, as I have read the proofs of this book I have found
more than once that the pages have faded out of sight and in
their stead I have seen Mount Pisgah and the French Broad
River, or the ramp and terrace of Biltmore House, just as
I saw them when writing the words which served to recall
them to me. With the visions, too, has come a recurrence to
our long talks, our work among the books, our games of chess,
our cups of tea, our walks, our rides, and our drives. It is
therefore a pleasure to me that the book so naturally gravitates
to you, and that I may make it a remembrance of those
past weeks of companionship, and an earnest of the present
affection of
PAUL LEICESTER FORD

ILLUSTRATIONS

Volume I.
Janice Meredith (Miniature in color)
"'T is sunrise at Greenwood"
"Nay, give me the churn"
"The British ran"
"It flatters thee"
"You set me free"
"The prisoner is gone
"Here's to the prettiest damsel"
"I'm the prisoner"
"Trenton is unguarded. Advance"
"He'd make a proper husband"
"Stay and take his place, Colonel"
"Thou art my soldier"
"'T is to rescue thee, Janice"
Volume II.
George Washington (In color)
"There's no safety for thee"
"The despatch!"
"Who are you?"
"Art comfortable, Janice?"
"Where is that paper?"
"Victory"
"Washington has crossed the Delaware!"
"I love you for your honesty, Janice"
"Don't move!"
"Have I won?"
"Where are you going?"

JANICE MEREDITH
A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION

VOLUME I

A HEROINE OF MANY POSSIBILITIES

"Alonzo now once more found himself upon an element
that had twice proved destructive to his happiness, but
Neptune was propitious, and with gentle breezes wafted
him toward his haven of bliss, toward Amaryllis.
Alas, when but one day from happiness, a Moorish zebec--"

"Janice!" called a voice.

The effect on the reader and her listener, both of whom
were sitting on the floor, was instantaneous. Each started and
sat rigidly intent for a moment; then, as the sound of approaching
footsteps became audible, one girl hastily slipped a little
volume under the counterpane of the bed, while the other
sprang to her feet, and in a hurried, flustered way pretended
to be getting something out of a tall wardrobe.

Before the one who hid the book had time to rise, a woman
of fifty entered the room, and after a glance, cried--

"Janice Meredith! How often have I told thee that it is
ungenteel for a female to repose on the floor?"

"Very often, mommy," said Janice, rising meekly, meantime
casting a quick glance at the bed, to see how far its smoothness
had been disturbed.

"And still thee continues such unbecoming and vastly indelicate
behaviour."

"Oh, mommy, but it is so nice!" cried the girl. "Did n't
you like to sit on the floor when you were fifteen?"

"Janice, thou 't more careless every day in bed-making,"
ejaculated Mrs. Meredith, making a sudden dive toward the
bed, as if she desired to escape the question. She smoothed
the gay patchwork quilt, seemed to feel something underneath,
and the next moment pulled out the hidden volume, which was
bound, as the bookseller's advertisements phrased it, in "half
calf, neat, marbled sides." One stern glance she gave the two
red-faced culprits, and, opening the book, read out in a voice
that was in itself an impeachment, "The Adventures of Alonzo
and Amaryllis!"

There was an instant's silence, full of omen to the culprits,
and then Mrs. Meredith's wrath found vent.

"Janice Meredith!" she cried. "On a Sabbath morning,
when thee shouldst be setting thy thoughts in a fit order for
church! And thou, Tabitha Drinker!"

"It 's all my fault, Mrs. Meredith," hurriedly asserted Tabitha.
"I brought the book with me from Trenton, and 't was I suggested
that we go on reading this morning."

"Six hours of spinet practice thou shalt have to-morrow,
miss," announced Mrs. Meredith to her daughter, "and this
afternoon thou shalt say over the whole catechism. As for
thee, Tabitha, I shall feel it my duty to write thy father of his
daughter's conduct. Now hurry and make ready for church."
And Mrs. Meredith started to leave the room.

"Oh, mommy," cried Janice, springing forward and laying a
detaining hand on her mother's arm in an imploring manner,
"punish me as much as you please,--I know 't was very,
very wicked,--but don't take the book away! He and
Amaryllis were just--"

"Not another sight shalt thou have of it, miss. My daughter
reading novels, indeed!" and Mrs. Meredith departed, holding
the evil book gingerly between her fingers, much as one might
carry something that was liable to soil one's hands.

The two girls looked at each other, Tabitha with a woebegone
expression, and Janice with an odd one, which might
mean many things. The flushed cheeks were perhaps due to
guilt, but the tightly clinched little fists were certainly due to
anger, and, noting these two only, one would have safely
affirmed that Janice Meredith, meekly as she had taken her
mother's scolding, had a quick and hot temper. But the eyes
were fairly starry with some emotion, certainly not anger, and
though the lips were pressed tightly together, the feeling that
had set them so rigidly was but a passing one, for suddenly the
corners twitched, the straight lines bent into curves, and flinging
herself upon the tall four-poster bedstead, Miss Meredith
laughed as only fifteen can laugh.

"Oh, Tibbie, Tibbie," she presently managed to articulate,
"if you look like that I shall die," and as the god of Momus
once more seized her, she dragged the quilt into a rumpled
pile, and buried her face in it, as if indeed attempting to suffocate
herself.

"But, Janice, to think that we shall never know how it
ended! I could n't sleep last night for hours, because I was
so afraid that Amaryllis would n't have the opportunity to vindicate
herself to--and 't would have been finished in another
day."

"And a proper punishment for naughty Tibbie Drinker it
is," declared Miss Meredith, sitting up and assuming a judicially
severe manner. "What do you mean, miss, by tempting
good little Janice Meredith into reading a wicked romance on
Sunday?"

"'Good little Janice!'" cried Tibbie, contemptuously. "I
could slap thee for that." But instead she threw her arms
about Janice's neck and kissed her with such rapture and energy
as to overbalance the judge from an upright position, and the
two roiled over upon the bed laughing with anything but discretion,
considering the nearness of their mentor. As a result
a voice from a distance called sharply--

"Janice!"

"O gemini!" cried the owner of that name, springing off
the bed and beginning to unfasten her gown,--an example
promptly followed by her room-mate.

"Art thou dressing, child?" called the voice, after a
pause.

"Yes, mommy," answered Janice. Then she turned to her
friend and asked, "Shall I wear my light chintz and kenton
kerchief, or my purple and white striped Persian?"

"Sufficiently smart for a country lass, Jan," cried her friend.

"Don't call me country bred, Tibbie Drinker, just because
you are a modish city girl."

"And why not thy blue shalloon?"

"'T is vastly unbecoming."

"Janice Meredith! Can't thee let the men alone?"

"I will when they will," airily laughed the girl.

"Do unto others--" quoted Tabitha.

"Then I will when thee sets me an example," retorted Janice,
making a deep curtsey, the absence of drapery and bodice
revealing the straightness and suppleness of the slender rounded
figure, which still had as much of the child as of the woman in
its lines.

"Little thought they get from me," cried Tabitha, with a
toss of her head.

"'Tell me where is fancy bred,
In the heart or in the head?'"

hummed Janice. "Of course, one does n't think about men,
Mistress Tabitha. One feels." Which remark showed perception
of a feminine truth far in advance of Miss Meredith's years.

"Unfeeling Janice!"

"'T is a good thing for the oafs and ploughboys of Brunswick.
For there are none better."

"Philemon Hennion?"

"'Your servant, marms,'" mimicked Janice, catching up a
hair brush and taking it from her head as if it were a hat, while
making a bow with her feet widely spread. "'Having nothing
better ter do, I've made bold ter come over ter drink a dish of
tea with you.'" The girl put the brush under her arm, still
further spread her feet, put her hands behind some pretended
coat-tails, let the brush slip from under her arms, so that it fell
to the floor with a racket, stooped with an affectation of clumsiness
which seemed impossible to the lithe figure, while
mumbling something inarticulate in an apparent paroxysm of
embarrassment,--which quickly became a genuine inability to
speak from laughter.

"Janice, thee should turn actress."

"Oh, Tibbie, lace my bodice quickly, or I shall burst of
laughing," breathlessly begged the girl.

"Janice," said her mother, entering, "how often must I tell
thee that giggling is missish? Stop, this moment."

"Yes, mommy," gasped Janice. Then she added, after a
shriek and a wriggle, "Don't, Tabitha!"

"What ails thee now, child? Art going to have an attack of
the megrims?"

"When Tibbie laces me up she always tickles me, because
she knows I'm dreadfully ticklish."

"I can't ever make the edges of the bodice meet, so I
tickle to make her squirm," explained Miss Drinker.

"Go on with thy own dressing, Tabitha," ordered Mrs.
Meredith, taking the strings from her hand. "Now breathe
out, Janice."

Miss Meredith drew a long breath, and then expelled it,
instant advantage being taken by her mother to strain the
strings. "Again," she said, holding all that had been gained,
and the operation was repeated, this time the edges of the
frock meeting across the back.

"It hurts," complained the owner of the waist, panting, while
the upper part of her bust rose and fell rapidly in an attempt
to make up for the crushing of the lower lungs.

"I lose all patience with thee, Janice," cried her mother.
"Here when thou hast been given by Providence a waist that
would be the envy of any York woman, that thou shouldst
object to clothes made to set it off to a proper advantage."

"It hurts all the same," reiterated Janice; "and last year I
could beat Jacky Whitehead, but now when I try to run in my
new frocks I come nigh to dying of breathlessness."

"I should hope so!" exclaimed her mother. "A female
of fifteen run with a boy, indeed! The very idea is indelicate.
Now, as soon as thou hast put on thy slippers and goloe-shoes,
go to thy father, who has been told of thy misbehaviour, and
who will reprove thee for it." And with this last damper on
the "lightness of young people," as Mrs. Meredith phrased it,
she once more left the room. It is a regrettable fact that
Miss Janice, who had looked the picture of submission as her
mother spoke, made a mouth, which was far from respectful,
at the departing figure.

"Oh, Janice," said Tabitha, "will he be very severe?"

"Severe?" laughed Janice. "If dear dadda is really angry,
I'll let tears come into my eyes, and then he'll say he's sorry
he hurt my feelings, and kiss me; but if he's only doing it to
please mommy, I'll let my eyes shine, and then he'll laugh
and tell me to kiss him. Oh, Tibbie, what a nice time we could
have if women were only as easy to manage as men!" With
this parting regret, Miss Meredith sallied forth to receive the
expected reproof.

The lecture or kiss received,--and a sight of Miss Meredith
would have led the casual observer to opine that the latter
was the form of punishment adopted,--the two girls mounted
into the big, lumbering coach along with their elders, and were
jolted and shaken over the four miles of ill-made road that
separated Greenwood, the "seat," as the "New York Gazette"
termed it, of the Honourable Lambert Meredith, from the village
of Brunswick, New Jersey. Either this shaking, or something
else, put the two maidens in a mood quite unbefitting the
day, for in the moment they tarried outside the church while the
coach was being placed in the shed, Miss Drinker's face was
frowning, and once again Miss Meredith's nails were dug deep
into the little palms of her hands.

"Yes," Janice whispered. "She put it in the fire. Dadda
saw her."

"And we'll never know if Amaryllis explained that she had
ever loved him," groaned Tabitha.

"If ever I get the chance!" remarked Janice, suggestively.

"Oh, Jan!" cried Tabitha, ecstatically. "Would n't it be
delightsome to be loved by a peasant, and to find he was a
prince and that he had disguised himself to test thy love?"

"'T would be better fun to know he was a prince and torture
him by pretending you did n't care for him," replied
Janice. "Men are so teasable."

"There's Philemon Hennion doffing his hat to us, Jan."

"The great big gawk!" exclaimed Janice. "Does he want
another dish of tea?" A question which set both girls laughing.

"Janice! Tabitha!" rebuked Mrs. Meredith. "Don't be
flippant on the Sabbath."

The two faces assumed demureness, and, filing into the Presbyterian
meeting-house, their owners apparently gave strict heed
to a sermon of the Rev. Alexander McClave, which was later
issued from the press of Isaac Collins, at Burlington, under the
title of:--

"The Doleful State of the Damned, Especially such as go to
Hell from under the Gospel."

II
THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS

Across the water sounded the bells of Christ Church
as the anchor of the brig "Boscawen," ninety days
out from Cork Harbour, fell with a splash into the
Delaware River in the fifteenth year of the reign of
George III., and of grace, 1774. To those on board, the chimes
brought the first intimation that it was Sunday, for three months
at sea with nothing to mark one day from another deranges the
calendar of all but the most heedful. Among the uncouth and
ill-garbed crowd that pressed against the waist-boards of the
brig, looking with curious eyes toward Philadelphia, several, as
the sound of the bells was heard, might have been observed
to cross themselves, while one or two of the women began to
tell their beads, praying perhaps that the breadth of the just-crossed
Atlantic lay between them and the privation and want
which had forced emigration upon them, but more likely
giving thanks that the dangers and suffering of the voyage
were over.

Scarcely had the anchor splashed, and before the circling
ripples it started had spread a hundred feet, when a small boat
put off from one of the wharfs lining the water front of the
city, with the newly arrived ship as an evident destination; and
the brig had barely swung to the current when the hoarse voice
of the mate was heard ordering the ladder over the side. The
preparation to receive the boat drew the attention of the crowd,
and they stared at its occupants with an intentness which implied
some deeper interest than mere curiosity; low words were
exchanged, and some of the poor frightened creatures seemed
to take on a greater cringe.

[Illustration: "'T is sunrise at Greenwood."]

Seated in the sternsheets of the approaching boat was a
plainly dressed man, whose appearance so bespoke the mercantile
class that it hardly needed the doffing of the captain's cap
and his obsequious "your servant, Mr. Cauldwell, and good
health to you," as the man clambered on board, to announce
the owner of the ship. To the emigrants this sudden deference
was a revelation concerning the cruel and oath-using tyrant at
whose mercy they had been during the weary weeks at sea.

"A long voyage ye've made of it, Captain Caine," said the
merchant.

"Ay, sir," answered the captain. "Another ten days would
have put us short of water, and--"

"But not of rum? Eh?" interrupted Cauldwell.

"As for that," replied the captain, "there 's a bottle or two
that's rolled itself till 't is cruelty not to drink it, and if you'll test
a noggin in the cabin while taking a look at the manifests--

"Well answered," cried the merchant, adding, "I see ye set
deep."

"Ay," said the captain as they went toward the companion-way;
"too deep for speed or safety, but the factors care little
for sailors' lives."

"And a deep ship makes a deep purse."

"Or a deep grave."

"Wouldst die ashore, man?"

"God forbid!" ejaculated the mariner, in a frightened voice.
"I've had my share of ill-luck without lying in the cold
ground. The very thought goes through me like a dash of
spray in a winter v'y'ge." He stamped with his foot and
roared out, "Forrard there: Two glasses and a dipper from
the rundlet," at the same time opening a locker and taking
therefrom a squat bottle. "'T is enough to make a man bowse
himself kissing black Betty to think of being under ground."
He held the black bottle firmly, as if it were in fact a sailor's
life preserver from such a fate, and hastened, so soon as the
cabin-boy appeared with the glasses and dipper, to mix two
glasses of rum and water. Setting these on the table, he took
from the locker a bundle of papers, and handed it to the
merchant.

Twenty minutes were spent on the clearances and manifests,
and then Mr. Cauldwell opened yet another paper.

"Sixty-two in all," he said, with a certain satisfaction in his
voice.

"Sixty-three," corrected the captain.

"Not by the list," denied the merchant.

"Sixty-two from Cork Harbour, but we took one aboard ship
at Bristol," explained the captain.

"Ye must pack them close between decks."

"Ay. The shoats in the long boat had more room. Mr.
Bull-dog would none of it, but slept on deck the whole v'y'ge."

"Mr. Bull-dog?" queried Cauldwell.

"The one your factor shipped at Bristol," explained Caine,
and running over the bundle, he spread before the merchant the
following paper:--

This Indenture, Made the Tenth Day of March in the
fifteenth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord George the
third King of Great Britain, etc. And in the Year of our Lord
One Thousand Seven Hundred and seventy-four, Between
Charles Fownes of Bath in the County of Somerset Labourer of
the one Part, and Frederick Caine of Bristol Mariner of the
other part Witnesseth That the said Charles Fownes for the
Consideration hereinafter mentioned, hath, and by these Presents
doth Covenant, Grant and Agree to, and with the said Frederick
Caine, his Executors, Administrators and Assigns, That the said
Charles Fownes shall and will, as a Faithful Covenant Servant
well and truly serve said Frederick Caine his Executors,
Administrators or Assigns, in the Plantations of Pennsylvania
and New Jersey beyond the Seas, for the space of five years next
ensuing the Arrival in the said Plantation, in the Employment
of a servant. And the said Charles Fownes doth hereby
Covenant and declare himself, now to be of the age of Twenty-one
Years and no Covenant or Contract Servant to any Person
or Persons. And the said Frederick Caine for himself his
Executors, and Assigns, in Consideration thereof do hereby Covenant,
Promise and Agree to and with the said Charles Fownes
his Executors and Administrators, that he the said Frederick
Caine his Executors, Administrators or Assigns, shall and will
at his or their own proper Cost and Charges, with what Convenient
Speed they may, carry and convey or cause to be carried
and conveyed over unto the said Plantations, the said Charles
Fownes and also during the said Term, shall and will at the
like Cost and Charges, provide and allow the said Charles
Fownes all necessary Cloaths, Meat, Drink, Washing, and
Lodging, and Fitting and Convenient for him as Covenant
Servants in such Cases are usually provided for and allowed.
And for the true Performance of the Premises, the said Parties
to these Presents, bind themselves their Executors and Administrators,
the either to the other, in the Penal Sum of Thirty
Pounds Sterling, by these Presents. In Witness whereof they
have hereunto interchangeably set their Hands and Seals, the
Day and Year above written.
The mark of
Charles X Fownes [Seal].

Sealed and delivered in
the presence of
J. Pattison, C. Capon.

These are to certify that the above-named Charles Fownes
came before me Thomas Pattison Deputy to the Patentee at
Bristol the Day and Year above written, and declared himself
to be no Covenant nor Contracted Servant to any Person or
Persons, to be of the Age of Twenty-one Years, not kidnapped nor
enticed but desirous to serve the above-named or his assigns five
Years, according to the Tenor of his Indenture above written
All of which is Registered in the office for that Purpose appointed
by the Letters Patents. In witness whereof I have affixed the
common Seal of the said office.
Thomas Pattison, D. P.

"And why Mr. Bull-dog?" asked Cauldwell, after a glance
at the paper.

"By the airs he takes. Odd's life! if we'd had the Duke of
Cumberland aboard, he'd not have carried himself the stiffer.
From the day we shipped him, not so much as a word has he
passed with one of us, save to threat Mr. Higgins' life, when he
knocked him down with a belaying pin for his da--for his
impertinence. And he nothing but an indentured servant not
able to write his name and like as not with a sheriff at his
heels." The captain's sudden volubility could mean either dislike
or mere curiosity.

"Dost think he's of the wrong colour?" asked the merchant,
looking with more interest at the covenant.

"'T is the dev--'t is beyond me to say what he is. A good
man at the ropes, but a da--a Dutchman for company.
'Twixt he and the bog-trotters we shipped at Cork Harbour
't was the dev--'t was the scuttiest lot I ever took aboard ship."
The rum was getting into the captain's tongue, and making his
usual vocabulary difficult to keep under.

"Have ye no artisans among the Irish?"

"Not so much as one who knows the differ between his two
hands."

"'T is too bad of Gorman not to pick better," growled the
merchant. "There's a great demand for Western settlers, and
Mr. Lambert Meredith writes me to pick him up a good man at
horses and gardening, without stinting the price. 'T would be
something to me to oblige him."

'T is a parcel of raw teagues except for the Bristol man."

"And ye think he's of the light-fingered gentry?"

"As for that," said the captain, "I know nothing about him.
But he came to your factor and wanted to take the first ship
that cleared, and seemed in such a mortal pother that Mr.
Horsley suspicioned something, and gave me a slant to look
out for him. And all the time we lay off Bristol, my fine fellow
kept himself well out of sight."

"Come," said the merchant, rising, "we'll have a look at him.
Mr. Meredith is not a man to be disappointed if it can be
avoided."

Once on deck the captain led the way to the forepart of the
ship, where, standing by himself, and, like the other emigrants,
looking over the rail, but, unlike them, looking not at the city,
but at the water, stood a fellow of a little over medium height,
with broad shoulders and a well-shaped back, despite the ill
form his ragged coat tried to give it. At a slap on the shoulder
he turned about, showing to the merchant a ruddy, sea-tanned
skin, light brown hair, gray eyes, and a chin and mouth hidden
by a two months' beard, still too bristly to give him other than
an unkempt, boorish look.

"Here 's the rogue," announced the captain, with a suggestion
of challenge in the speech, as if he would like to have the
epithet resented. But the man only regarded the officer with
steady, inexpressive eyes.