Julia was unable to say any more; but her aunt, without noticing her agitation, asked mildly, "And who is Tony?""Why Anthony, the driver--he is here and wishes to see you.""Show him up, Charles, and let us learn when he will be ready to go on."This was an awful moment to Julia--she was on the eve of being confronted, in a room, for the first time, with the man on whom she felt that her happiness or misery must depend.Although she knew the vast importance to her of good looks at such a moment, she looked unusually ill--she was pale from apprehension, and awkward and ungraceful from her agitation.She would have given the world to have got out of the room, but this was impossible--there was but one door, and through that he must come.She had just concluded that it was better to remain in her chair than incur the risk of fainting in the passage, when he entered, preceded by Charles.His upper, and part of his lower lip, were clean shaved; a small part of one cheek and his nose were to be seen; all the rest of his face was covered with hair, or hid under the patch.An enormous coloured handkerchief was tied, in a particular manner, round his neck; and his coat, made of plain materials, and somewhat tarnished with service, was buttoned as close to his throat as the handkerchief would allow.In short, his whole attire was that of a common driver of a hack carriage; and no one who had not previously received an intimation that his character was different from his appearance, would at all have suspected the deception.
"Your name is Anthony?" said Miss Emmerson, as he bowed to her with due deference.
"Yes, ma'am, Anthony--Tony Sandford," was the reply--it was uttered in a vulgar nasal tone, that Julia instantly perceived was counterfeited: but Miss Emmerson, with perfect innocency, proceeded in her inquiries.
"Are your horses gentle and good, Tony?" adopting the familiar nomenclature that seemed most to his fancy.
"As gentle as e'er a lady in the land," said Tony, turning his large black eye round the room, and letting it dwell a moment on the beautiful face of Julia--her heart throbbed with tumultuous emotion at the first sound of his voice, and she was highly amused at the ingenuity he had displayed, in paying a characteristic compliment to her gentleness, in this clandestine manner--if he preserves his incognito so ingeniously he will never be detected, thought Julia, and all will be well.
"And the carriage," continued Miss Emmerson, "is it fit to carry us?" "I can't say how fit it may be to carry sich ladies as you be, but it is asgood a carriage as runs out of York."
Here was another delicate compliment, thought Julia, and so artfully concealed under brutal indifference that it nearly deceived even herself.
"When will you be ready to start?" asked Miss Emmerson.
"This moment," was the prompt reply--"we can easily reach Schenectady by sundown."Here Julia saw the decision and promptitude of a soldier used to marches and movements, besides an eager desire to remove her from the bustle of a large town and thoroughfare, to a retirement where she would be more particularly under his protection.Miss Emmerson, on the other hand, saw nothing but the anxiety of a careful hireling, willing to promote the interest of his master, who was to be paid for his conveyance by the job--so differently do sixty and sixteen judge the same actions! At all events, the offer was accepted, and the man ordered to secure the baggage, and prepare for their immediate departure.
"Why don't you help Antonio on with the baggage, Charles?" said Julia, as she stood looking at the driver tottering under the weight of the trunks.Charles stared a moment with surprise--the name created no astonishment, but the request did.Julia had a habit of softening names, that were rather harsh in themselves, to which he was accustomed.Petershe called Pierre; Robert was Rubert {sic}; and her aunt's black footman Timothy, she had designated as Timotheus: but it was not usual for ladies to request gentlemen to perform menial offices--until, recollecting that Julia had expressed unusual solicitude concerning a dressing-box that contained Anna's letters, he at once supposed it was to that she wished him to attend.Charles left the room, and superintended the whole arrangements, when once enlisted.Julia now felt that every doubt of the identity of her lover with this coachman was removed.He had ingeniously adopted the name of Anthony, as resembling in sound the one she herself had given him in her letters.This he undoubtedly had learnt from Anna-- and then Sandford was very much like Stanley--his patch, his dress, his air--every thing about him united to confirm her impressions; and Julia, at the same time she resolved to conduct herself towards him in their journey with a proper feminine reserve, thought she could do no less to a man who submitted to so much to serve her, than to suffer him to perceive that she was not entirely insensible to the obligation.
Our heroine could not but admire the knowing manner with which Antonio took his seat on the carriage, and the dexterity he discovered in the management of his horses--this was infallible evidence of his acquaintance with the animal, and a sure sign that he was the master of many, and had long been accustomed to their service.Perhaps, thought Julia, he has been an officer of cavalry.
