Now, had it been the constable who so suddenly appeared upon the scene, the probabilities are that the fight, both sides having warmed to it, would, despite the terrors of the law, have been carried to a finish.  But it was not the constable; it was a gentleman recently returned from England, and become in the eyes of the youth of Williamsburgh the glass of fashion and the mould of form.  The youngster with the shoulder knots had copied color and width of ribbon from a suit which this gentleman had worn at the Palace; the rake with the wig awry, who passed for a wit, had done him the honor to learn by heart portions of his play, and to repeat (without quotation marks) a number of his epigrams; while the pretty fellow whose cane he had struck up practiced night and morning before a mirror his bow and manner of presenting his snuffbox.  A fourth ruffler desired office, and cared not to offend a prospective Councilor.  There was rumor, too, of a grand entertainment to be given at Fair View; it was good to stand well with the law, but it was imperative to do so with Mr. Marmaduke Haward.  Their hands fell; they drew back a pace, and the wit made himself spokesman.  Roses were rare so early in the year; for him and his companions, they had but wished to compliment those that bloomed in the cheeks of the pretty Quakeress.  This servant fellow, breathing fire like a dragon, had taken it upon himself to defend the roses,—­which likely enough were grown for him,—­and so had been about to bring upon himself merited chastisement.  However, since it was Mr. Marmaduke Haward who pleaded for him—­A full stop, a low bow, and a flourish.  “Will Mr. Haward honor me?  ’Tis right Macouba, and the box—­if the author of ’The Puppet Show’ would deign to accept it”—­

“Rather to change with you, sir,” said the other urbanely, and drew out his own chased and medallioned box.

The gentleman upon the floor had now gotten unsteadily to his feet.  Mr. Haward took snuff with each of the six; asked after the father of one, the brother of another; delicately intimated his pleasure in finding the noble order of Mohocks, that had lately died in London, resurrected in Virginia; and fairly bowed the flattered youths out of the store.  He stood for a moment upon the threshold watching them go triumphantly, if unsteadily, up the street; then turned to the interior of the store to find MacLean seated upon a stool, with his head against the table, submitting with a smile of pure content to the ministrations of the dove-like mover of the late turmoil, who with trembling fingers was striving to bind her kerchief about a great cut in his forehead.

CHAPTER X

HAWARD AND EVELYN

MacLean put aside with much gentleness the hands of his surgeon, and, rising to his feet, answered the question in Haward’s eyes by producing a slip of paper and gravely proffering it to the man whom he served.  Haward took it, read it, and handed it back; then turned to the Quaker maiden.  “Mistress Truelove Taberer,” he said courteously.  “Are you staying in town?  If you will tell me where you lodge, I will myself conduct you thither.”