FullReads

“What means this language to me? You are drunk, sir!” roared Colonel Washington, jumping up and striking the table with his first.

“A cursed provincial officer say I’m drunk!” shrieks out Captain Grace. “Waring, do you hear that?”

” I heard it, sir!” cried George Warrington. “We all heard it. We entered at my invitation–the liquor called for was mine; the table was mine–and I am shocked to hear such monstrous language used at it as Colonel Washington has just employed towards my esteemed guest, Captain Waring.”

“Confound your impudence, you infernal young jackanapes!” bellowed out Colonel Washington. ” You dare to insult me before British officers, and find fault with my language? For months past I have borne with such impudence from you, that if I had not loved your mother–yes, sir, and your good grandfather and your brother–I would–” Here his words failed him, and the irate Colonel, with glaring eyes and purple face, and every limb quivering with wrath, stood for a moment speechless before his young enemy.

“You would what, sir,” says George, very quietly, “if you did not love my grandfather, and my brother, and my mother? You are making her petticoat a plea for some conduct of yours! You would do what, sir, may I ask again?”

“I would put you across my knee and whip you, you snarling little puppy! That’s what I would do!” cried the Colonel, who had found breath by this time, and vented another explosion of fury.

“Because you have known us all our lives, and made our house your own, that is no reason why you should insult either of us!” here cried Harry, starting up. “What you have said, George Washington, is an insult to me and my brother alike. You will ask our pardon, sir!”

“Pardon!”

“Or give us the reparation that is due to gentlemen,” continues Harry.

The stout Colonel’s heart smote him to think that he should be at mortal quarrel, or called upon to shed the blood of one of the lads he loved. As Harry stood facing him, with his fair hair, flushing cheeks, and quivering voice, an immense tenderness and kindness filled the bosom of the elder man. “I–I am bewildered,” he said. “My words, perhaps, were very hasty. What has been the meaning of George’s behaviour to me for months back? Only tell me, and, perhaps–“

The evil spirit was awake and victorious in young George Warrington; his black eyes shot out scorn and hatred at the simple and guileless gentleman before him. “You are shirking from the question, sir, as you did from the toast just now,” he said. “I am not a boy to suffer under your arrogance. You have publicly insulted me in a public place, and I demand a reparation.”

“As you please, George Warrington–and God forgive you, George! God pardon you, Harry! for bringing me into this quarrel,” said the Colonel, with a face full of sadness and gloom.

Harry hung his head, but George continued with perfect calmness: “I, sir? It was not I who called names, who talked of a cane, who insulted a gentleman in a public place before the gentlemen of the army. It is not the first time you have chosen to take me for a negro, and talked of the whip for me.”

The Colonel started back, turning very red, and as if struck by a sudden remembrance.

“Great heavens, George! is it that boyish quarrel you are still recalling?”

“Who made you overseer of Castlewood?” said the boy, grinding his teeth. “I am not your slave, George Washington, and I never will be. I hated you then, and I hate you now. And you have insulted me, and I am a gentleman, and so are you. Is that not enough?”

“Too much, only too much,” said the Colonel, with a genuine grief on his face, and at his heart “Do you bear malice, too, Harry? I had not thought this of thee!”