Chapter XI: V. Chevillere to B. Randolph

"Baltimore, 18--.

"DEAR FRIEND,

"Though I had but two hours' sleep, I was up betimes to catch a
parting glimpse of an interesting person who need not be named.
When I descended into the great vestibule of this extensive
establishment, I found the door of their parlour open, and the
entry nearly blocked up by bandboxes, trunks, and all the little
paraphernalia of which you and I are as yet quite ignorant. A
carriage stood at the door; the lady and the old gentleman sat
side by side upon the sofa, the former in her travelling habit,
while the latter held in his hand a cup of coffee, which he
sipped, giving directions from time to time to the servants. I
paid them the compliments of the morning, not in the most bland
and courtly style, for to tell you the truth I felt a little
inclined to poaching, and the old gentleman looked _to me_ not
unlike a vigilant and surly gamekeeper; however, he received me
with a welcome, perhaps it was a northern one; but of that I will
tell you more when we get fully into the enemy's country, as your
namesake of Roanoke would say. My presence seemed to hurry the
old gentleman's coffee down his throat, hot as it was, and in ten
minutes, before I had exchanged ten words with the lady, all was
pronounced in readiness.

"The old gentleman did not leave her for a moment. I of course
handed her to the carriage, and took, as I supposed, a last look.
I suppose I must have appeared dolorous enough. The parting moment
came, the last pressure of the hand was given, the door closed,
whip cracked, and the carriage had gone some time, before I found
myself standing in the middle of the street, my head turned to one
side just far enough to catch a glimpse of Lamar in his nightgown,
half-way out of a three-story window, laughing with that
complacent self-satisfaction which is peculiar to him. 'Half-past
four and a dark stormy morning,' cried he, in true watchman style.
I pulled my hat down over my face, and walked away from the hotel
as fast as my impetuous blood would drive me; indeed, I felt
provoked at the time. I had not walked far, before I recollected
having felt something in my hand, as if it had found its way there
by accident, while I was exchanging adieus with my enslaver. I had
mechanically, while abstracted in the street, thrust it into my
waistcoat pocket. I now drew it forth,--it was a small roll of
paper, which you might have put into a thimble,--I opened it very
carefully, in hope that there might be some even
carelessly-scribbled line, which I could preserve as a memento.
By heavens, Randolph, there was a memento upon it! and evidently
intended for my eye alone.

"The writing was in pencil, and scarcely legible; with some
difficulty I could make out these words.

"'The explanation sought by Mr. Chevillere has not been
surreptitiously avoided by me, nor will it ever be; but if he is
wise, he will forget one who has already extended the influence of
her unhappiness too far.'

"I read these lines over again and again. I walked round Baltimore
as if it had been a hamlet. It seemed to me that every person whom
I met could read in my countenance something strange and hurried.
At length, however, I found my way to the breakfast table. Lamar,
as my bad luck would have it, sat almost opposite to me. I do not
think I ever saw him perfectly disagreeable before; all his
remarks seemed to me _mal-apropos_, and he is not usually so
unfortunate, you know. I made a hasty breakfast, and hurried out
on purpose to avoid him, but in vain! he was with me in an
instant. 'All settled, I suppose, Chevillere,' said he. 'Yes, all
is settled for our journey to New-York,' said I, 'except our
bills, and that you may attend to as soon as you please.' I
ordered old Cato to see the luggage on board the steamboat for
Philadelphia: Lamar did the same. 'But, Chevillere,' said he, 'you
are not going to leave the Kentuckian,' upon which he set off to
summon our new companion.

"Our next epistle will in all probability be from Philadelphia or
New-York; we shall only stay a short time in the former place, as
we conceive the other to be the true point from which to make
observations.

"Yours truly,

"V. CHEVILLERE."