suing from the house gates of the May Queen and her court the
festivities commenced.

An hour later, in the midst of a bout at quarterstaff between the
Jamestown blacksmith and the miller from Princess Creek, a coach and four,
accompanied by a horseman, crossed the neck, rolled through the street,
and, entering the meadow, drew up a hundred feet from the ring of
spectators.

The eyes of the commonalty still hung upon every motion of the blacksmith
and the miller, but by the people of quality the cudgelers were for the
moment quite forgot. The head of the house of Jaquelin hurried over the
grass to the coach door. "Ha, Colonel Byrd! When we heard that you were
staying overnight at Green Spring, we hoped that, being so near, you would
come to our merrymaking. Mistress Evelyn, I kiss your hands. Though we
can't give you the diversions of Spring Garden, yet such as we have are at
your feet. Mr. Marmaduke Haward, your servant, sir! Virginia has missed
you these ten years and more. We were heartily glad to hear, t'other day,
that the Golden Rose had brought you home."

As he spoke the worthy gentleman strove to open the coach door; but the
horseman, to whom the latter part of his speech was addressed, and who had
now dismounted, was beforehand with him. The door swung open, and a young
lady, of a delicate and pensive beauty, placed one hand upon the
deferential arm of Mr. Marmaduke Haward and descended from the painted
coach to the flower-enameled sward. The women amongst the assembled guests
fluttered and whispered; for this was youth, beauty, wealth, London, and
the Court, all drawn in the person of Mistress Evelyn Byrd, bred since
childhood in the politest society of England, newly returned with her
father to his estate of Westover in Virginia, and, from her garlanded
gypsy hat to the point of her silken shoe, suggestive of the rainbow world
of _mode_.

Her father--alert, vivacious, handsome, with finely cut lips that were
quick to smile, and dark eyes that smiled when the lips were
still--followed her to the earth, shook out his ruffles, and extended his
gold snuffbox to his good friend Mr. Jaquelin. The gentleman who had
ridden beside the coach threw the reins of his horse to one of the negroes
who had come running from the Jaquelin stables, and, together with their
host, the three walked across the strip of grass to the row of expectant
gentry. Down went the town-bred lady until the skirt of her blue-green
gown lay