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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15506-8.txt b/15506-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a0ea11 --- /dev/null +++ b/15506-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10994 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Philip Winwood, by Robert Neilson Stephens, +Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Philip Winwood + A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces. + + +Author: Robert Neilson Stephens + +Release Date: March 30, 2005 [eBook #15506] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP WINWOOD*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15506-h.htm or 15506-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/0/15506/15506-h/15506-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/0/15506/15506-h.zip) + + + + + +PHILIP WINWOOD + + + "The bravest are the tenderest." + + BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + * * * * * + + +Works of ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS + + + An Enemy to the King + (Twenty-sixth Thousand) + + The Continental Dragoon + (Seventeenth Thousand) + + The Road to Paris + (Sixteenth Thousand) + + A Gentleman Player + (Thirty-fifth Thousand) + + Philip Winwood + (Fiftieth Thousand) + + +L.C. Page and Company, Publishers (Incorporated) +212 Summer St., Boston, Mass. + + + * * * * * + + + +PHILIP WINWOOD + +A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of +Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the +Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in +War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces. + +Presented Anew by + +Robert Neilson Stephens + +Author of _A Gentleman Player_, _An Enemy to the King_, _The +Continental Dragoon_, _The Road to Paris_, etc. + +Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton + +Boston: L.C. Page & Company (Incorporated) + +1900 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + + I. PHILIP'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK + + II. THE FARINGFIELDS + + III. WHEREIN 'TIS SHOWN THAT BOYS ARE BUT BOYS + + IV. HOW PHILIP AND I BEHAVED AS RIVALS IN LOVE + + V. WE HEAR STARTLING NEWS, WHICH BRINGS ABOUT A + FAMILY "SCENE" + + VI. NED COMES BACK, WITH AN INTERESTING TALE OF A + FORTUNATE IRISHMAN + + VII. ENEMIES IN WAR + + VIII. I MEET AN OLD FRIEND IN THE DARK + + IX. PHILIP'S ADVENTURES--CAPTAIN FALCONER COMES + TO TOWN + + X. A FINE PROJECT + + XI. WINWOOD COMES TO SEE HIS WIFE + + XII. THEIR INTERVIEW + + XIII. WHEREIN CAPTAIN WINWOOD DECLINES A PROMOTION + + XIV. THE BAD SHILLING TURNS UP ONCE MORE IN + QUEEN STREET + + XV. IN WHICH THERE IS A FLIGHT BY SEA, AND A DUEL + BY MOONLIGHT + + XVI. FOLLOWS THE FORTUNES OF MADGE AND NED + + XVII. I HEAR AGAIN FROM WINWOOD + +XVIII. PHILIP COMES AT LAST TO LONDON + + XIX. WE MEET A PLAY-ACTRESS THERE + + XX. WE INTRUDE UPON A GENTLEMAN AT A COFFEE-HOUSE + + XXI. THE LAST, AND MOST EVENTFUL, OF THE HISTORY + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD Frontispiece + +"OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE +SO IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED" + +"SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY" + +"'HE IS A--AN ACQUAINTANCE'" + +"HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL BLOW" + +"IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES" + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +_Philip's Arrival in New York._ + + +'Tis not the practice of writers to choose for biography men who have +made no more noise in the world than Captain Winwood has; nor the act +of gentlemen, in ordinary cases, to publish such private matters as +this recital will present. But I consider, on the one hand, that +Winwood's history contains as much of interest, and as good an example +of manly virtues, as will be found in the life of many a hero more +renowned; and, on the other, that his story has been so partially +known, and so distorted, it becomes indeed the duty of a gentleman, +when that gentleman was his nearest friend, to put forth that story +truly, and so give the lie for ever to the detractors of a brave and +kindly man. + +There was a saying in the American army, proceeding first from Major +Harry Lee, of their famous Light Horse, that Captain Winwood was in +America, in the smaller way his modesty permitted, what the Chevalier +Bayard was in France, and Sir Philip Sidney in England. This has been +received more than once (such is the malice of conscious inferiority) +with derisive smiles or supercilious sneers; and not only by certain +of his own countrymen, but even in my presence, when my friendship for +Winwood, though I had been his rival in love and his enemy in war, was +not less known than was my quickness to take offence and avenge it. I +dealt with one such case, at the hour of dawn, in a glade near the +Bowery lane, a little way out of New York. And I might have continued +to vindicate my friend's character so: either with pistols, as at +Weehawken across the Hudson, soon after the war, I vindicated the +motives of us Englishmen of American birth who stood for the king in +the war of Independence; or with rapiers, as I defended the name of +our admired enemy, Washington, against a certain defamer, one morning +in Hyde Park, after I had come to London. But it has occurred to me +that I can better serve Winwood's reputation by the spilling of ink +with a quill than of blood with a sword or pistol. This consideration, +which is far from a desire to compete with the young gentlemen who +strive for farthings and fame, in Grub Street, is my apology for +profaning with my unskilled hand the implement ennobled by the use of +a Johnson and a Goldsmith, a Fielding and an Addison. + +My acquaintance with the Captain's life, from the vantage of an +eye-witness and comrade, goes back to the time when all of us +concerned were children; to the very day, in truth, when Philip, a +pale and slender lad of eleven years, first set foot in New York, and +first set eye on Margaret Faringfield. + +As I think of it, it seems but yesterday, and myself a boy again: but +it was, in fact, in the year 1763; and late in the afternoon of a +sunny Summer day. I remember well how thick and heavy the green leaves +hung upon the trees that thrust their branches out over the garden +walls and fences of our quiet street. + +Tired from a day's play, or perchance lazy from the heat, I sprawled +upon the front step of our house, which was next the residence of the +Faringfields, in what was then called Queen Street. I believe the name +of that, as of many another in New York, has been changed since the +war, having savoured too much of royalty for republican taste.[1] The +Faringfield house, like the family, was one of the finest in New York; +and there were in that young city greater mansions than one would have +thought to find in a little colonial seaport--a rural-looking +provincial place, truly, which has been likened to a Dutch town almost +wholly transformed into the semblance of some secondary English town, +or into a tiny, far-off imitation of London. It lacked, of course, the +grand, gray churches, the palaces and historic places, that tell of +what a past has been London's; but it lacked, too, the begriming smoke +and fog that are too much of London's present. Indeed, never had any +town a clearer sky, or brighter sunshine, than are New York's. + +From the Summer power of this sunshine, our part of Queen Street was +sheltered by the trees of gardens and open spaces; maple, oak, +chestnut, linden, locust, willow, what not? There was a garden, +wherein the breeze sighed all day, between our house and the +Faringfield mansion, to which it pertained. That vast house, of red +and yellow brick, was two stories and a garret high, and had a +doubly-sloping roof pierced with dormer windows. The mansion's lower +windows and wide front door were framed with carved wood-work, painted +white. Its garden gate, like its front door, opened directly to the +street; and in the garden gateway, as I lounged on our front step that +Summer evening, Madge Faringfield stood, running her fingers through +the thick white and brown hair of her huge dog at her side. + +The dog's head was almost on a level with hers, for she was then but +eight years old, a very bright and pretty child. She turned her quick +glance down the street as she stood; and saw me lying so lazy; and at +once her gray eyes took on a teasing and deriding light, and I felt I +was in for some ironical, quizzing speech or other. But just then her +look fell upon something farther down the way, toward Hanover Square, +and lingered in a half-amused kind of curiosity. I directed my own +gaze to see what possessed hers, and this is what we both beheld +together, little guessing what the years to come should bring to make +that moment memorable in our minds. + +A thin but well-formed boy of eleven; with a pleasant, kindly face, +somewhat too white, in which there was a look--as there was evidence +in his walk also--of his being tired from prolonged exertion or +endurance. He was decently, though not expensively, clad in black +cloth, his three-cornered felt hat, wide-skirted coat, and ill-fitting +knee-breeches, being all of the same solemn hue. I was to perceive +later that his clothes were old and carefully mended. His gray silk +stockings ill accorded with his poor shoes, of which the buckles were +of steel. He carried in one hand a large, ancient travelling-bag, so +heavy that it strained his muscles and dragged him down, thus partly +explaining the fatigued look in his face; and in his other hand a +basket, from the open top of which there appeared, thrust out, the +head of a live gray kitten. + +This pretty animal's look of strangeness to its surroundings, as it +gazed about with curiosity, would alone have proclaimed that it was +arrived from travel; had not the baggage and appearance of its bearer +told the same story. The boy, also, kept an alert eye forward as he +advanced up the street, but it was soon evident that he gazed in +search of some particular object. This object, as the lad finally +satisfied himself by scanning it and its neighbours twice over, proved +to be the house immediately opposite ours. It was one of a row of +small, old brick residences, with Dutch gable ends toward the street. +Having made sure of its identity, and having reddened a little at the +gaze of Madge and me, the young stranger set down his bag with +perceptible signs of physical relief, and, keeping in his grasp the +basket with the cat, knocked with a seemingly forced boldness--as if +he were conscious of timidity to be overcome--upon the door. + +At that, Madge Faringfield could not help laughing aloud. + +It was a light, rippling, little laugh, entirely good-natured, lasting +but a moment. But it sufficed to make the boy turn and look at her and +blush again, as if he were hurt but bore no resentment. + +Then I, who knew what it was to be wounded by a girl's laugh, +especially Madge's, thought it time to explain, and called out to the +lad: + +"There's nobody at home there." + +The boy gazed at me at a loss; then, plainly reluctant to believe me, +he once more inspected the blank, closed front of the house, for +denial or confirmation of my word. When he next looked back at me, the +expression of inquiring helplessness and vague alarm on his face, as +if the earth were giving way beneath his feet, was half comical, half +pitiful to see. + +"It is Mr. Aitken's house, is it not?" he asked, in a tone low and +civil, though it seemed to betray a rapid beating of the heart after a +sudden sinking thereof. + +"It was," I replied, "but he has gone back to England, and that house +is empty." + +The lad's dismay now became complete, yet it appeared in no other way +than in the forlorn expression of his sharp, pale countenance, and in +the unconscious appeal with which his blue eyes surveyed Madge and me +in turn. But in a few moments he collected himself, as if for the +necessary dealing with some unexpected castastrophe, and asked me, a +little huskily still: + +"When will he come home?" + +"Never, to this house, I think. Another customs officer has come over +in his place, but this one lodges at the King's Arms, because he's a +bachelor." + +The lad cast a final hopeless glance at the house, and then +mechanically took a folded letter from an inner pocket, and dismally +regarded the name on the back. + +"I had a letter for him," he said, presently, looking again across the +street at me and Madge, for the curious Miss Faringfield had walked +down from her gateway to my side, that she might view the stranger +better. And now she spoke, in her fearless, good-humoured, somewhat +forward way: + +"If you will give the letter to me, my father will send it to Mr. +Aitken in London." + +"Thank you, but that would be of no use," said the lad, with a +disconsolate smile. + +"Why not?" cried Madge promptly, and started forthwith skipping across +the dusty street. I followed, and in a moment we two were quite close +to the newcomer. + +"You're tired," said Madge, not waiting for his answer. "Why don't you +sit down?" And she pointed to the steps of the vacant house. + +"Thank you," said the lad, but with a bow, and a gesture that meant he +would not sit while a lady stood, albeit the lady's age was but eight +years. + +Madge, pleased at this, smiled, and perched herself on the upper step. +Waiting to be assured that I preferred standing, the newcomer then +seated himself on his own travelling-bag, an involuntary sigh of +comfort showing how welcome was this rest. + +"Did you come to visit in New York?" at once began the inquisitive +Madge. + +"Yes, I--I came to see Mr. Aitken," was the hesitating and dubious +answer. + +"And so you'll have to go back home without seeing him?" + +"I don't very well see how I can go back," said the boy slowly. + +"Oh, then you will visit some one else, or stay at the tavern?" Madge +went on. + +"I don't know any one else here," was the reply, "and I can't stay at +the tavern." + +"Why, then, what will you do?" + +"I don't know--yet," the lad answered, looking the picture of +loneliness. + +"Where do you live?" I put in. + +"I did live in Philadelphia, but I left there the other day by the +stage-coach, and arrived just now in New York by the boat." + +"And why can't you go back there?" I continued. + +"Why, because,--I had just money enough left to pay my way to New +York; and even if I should walk back, I've no place there to go back +to, and no one at all--now--" He broke off here, his voice faltering; +and his blue eyes filled with moisture. But he made a swallow, and +checked the tears, and sat gently stroking the head of his kitten. + +For a little time none of us spoke, while I stood staring somewhat +abashed at the lad's evident emotion. Madge studied his countenance +intently, and doubtless used her imagination to suppose little +Tom--her younger and favourite brother--in this stranger's place. +Whatever it was that impelled her, she suddenly said to him, "Wait +here," and turning, ran back across the street, and disappeared +through the garden gate. + +Instead of following her, the dog went up to the new boy's cat and +sniffed at its nose, causing it to whisk back its head and gaze +spellbound. To show his peaceful mind, the dog wagged his tail, and by +degrees so won the kitten's confidence that it presently put forth its +face again and exchanged sniffs. + +"I should think you'd have a dog, instead of a cat," said I, +considering the stranger's sex. + +He answered nothing to this, but looked quite affectionately at his +pet. I set it down as odd that so manly a lad should so openly show +liking for a cat. The conduct of the animal in its making acquaintance +with the dog; the good-humoured assurance of the one, and the cautious +coyness of the other; amused us till presently Madge's voice was +heard; and then we saw her coming from the garden, speaking to her +father, who walked bareheaded beside her. Behind, at a little +distance, came Madge's mother and little Tom. All four stopped at the +gateway, and looked curiously toward us. + +"Come over here, boy," called Madge, and heeded not the reproof her +mother instantly gave her in an undertone for her forwardness. For any +one of his children but Madge, reproof would have come from her father +also; in all save where she was concerned, he was a singularly correct +and dignified man, to the point of stiffness and austerity. His wife, +a pretty, vain, inoffensive woman, was always chiding her children for +their smaller faults, and never seeing the traits that might lead to +graver ones. + +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield awaited the effect of Madge's invitation, or +rather command, adding nothing to it. The boy's colour showed his +diffidence, under the scrutiny of so many coldly inquiring eyes; but +after a moment he rose, and I, with greater quickness, seized his bag +by the handle and started across the street with it. He called out a +surprised and grateful "Thank you," and followed me. I was speedily +glad I had not undertaken to carry the bag as far as he had done; +'twas all I could do to bear it. + +"How is this, lad?" said Mr. Faringfield, when the boy, with hat off, +stood before him. The tone was stern enough, a stranger would have +thought, though it was indeed a kindly one for Madge's father. "You +have come from Philadelphia to visit Mr. Aitken? Is he your relation?" + +"No, sir; he was a friend of my father's before my father came to +America," replied the lad, in a low, respectful voice. + +"Yet your father did not know he was gone back to England? How is +that?" + +"My father is dead, sir; he died six years ago." + +"Oh, I see," replied Mr. Faringfield, a little taken down from his +severity. "And the letter my little girl tells me of?" + +"If you please, my mother wrote it, sir," said the boy, looking at the +letter in his hand, his voice trembling a little. He seemed to think, +from the manner of the Faringfields, that he was obliged to give a +full account of himself, and so went on. "She didn't know what else to +do about me, sir, as there was no one in Philadelphia--that is, I +mean, she remembered what a friend Mr. Aitken was to my father--they +were both of Oxford, sir; Magdalen college. And so at last she thought +of sending me to him, that he might get me a place or something; and +she wrote the letter to tell him who I was; and she saw to it that I +should have money enough to come to New York,--" + +"But I don't understand," interrupted Mr. Faringfield, frowning his +disapproval of something. "What made it necessary for her to dispose +of you? Was she going to marry again?" + +"She was going to die, sir," replied the boy, in a reserved tone +which, despite his bashfulness, both showed his own hurt, and rebuked +his elder's thoughtless question. + +"Poor boy!" whispered Mrs. Faringfield, grasping her little Tom's +hand. + +"Oh," said her husband, slowly, slightly awed from his sternness. "I +beg your pardon, my lad. I am very sorry, indeed. Your being here, +then, means that you are now an orphan?" + +"Yes, sir," was the boy's only answer, and he lowered his eyes toward +his kitten, and so sad and lonely an expression came into his face +that no wonder Mrs. Faringfield whispered again, "Poor lad," and even +Madge and little Tom looked solemn. + +"Well, boy, something must be done about you, that's certain," said +Mr. Faringfield. "You have no money, my daughter says. Spent all you +had for cakes and kickshaws in the towns where the stage-coach +stopped, I'll warrant." + +The boy smiled. "The riding made me hungry sir," said he. "I'd have +saved my extra shilling if I'd known how it was going to be." + +"But is there nothing coming to you in Philadelphia? Did your mother +leave nothing?" + +"Everything was sold at auction to pay our debts--it took the books +and our furniture and all, to do that." + +"The books?" + +"We kept a book-shop, sir. My father left it to us. He was a +bookseller, but he was a gentleman and an Oxford man." + +"And he didn't make a fortune at the book trade, eh?" + +"No, sir. I've heard people say he would rather read his books than +sell them." + +"From your studious look I should say you took after him." + +"I do like to read, sir," the lad admitted quietly, smiling again. + +Here Madge put in, with the very belated query: + +"What's your name?" + +"Philip Winwood," the boy answered, looking at her pleasantly. + +"Well, Master Winwood," said Madge's father, "we shall have to take +you in overnight, at least, and then see what's to be done." + +At this Mrs. Faringfield said hastily, with a touch of alarm: + +"But, my dear, is it quite safe? The child might--might have the +measles or something, you know." + +Madge tittered openly, and Philip Winwood looked puzzled. Mr. +Faringfield answered: + +"One can see he is a healthy lad, and cleanly, though he is tired and +dusty from his journey. He may occupy the end garret room. 'Tis an odd +travelling companion you carry, my boy. Did you bring the cat from +Philadelphia?" + +"Yes, sir; my mother was fond of it, and I didn't like to leave it +behind." + +The kitten drew back from the stately gentleman's attempt to tap its +nose with his finger, and evinced a desire to make the acquaintance of +his wife, toward whom it put forth its head as far as possible out of +its basket, beginning the while to purr. + +"Look, mamma, it wants to come to you," cried little Tom, delighted. + +"Cats and dogs always make friends quicker with handsome people," said +Philip Winwood, with no other intent than merely to utter a fact, of +which those who observe the lower animals are well aware. + +"There, my dear," said Mr. Faringfield, "there's a compliment for you +at my expense." + +The lady, who had laughed to conceal her pleasure at so innocent a +tribute, now freely caressed the kitten; of which she had been shy +before, as if it also might have the measles. + +"Well, Philip," she said, a moment later, "come in, and feel that you +are at home. You'll have just time to wash, and brush the dust off, +before supper. He shall occupy the second spare chamber, William," she +added, turning to her husband. "How could you think of sending so nice +and good-looking a lad to the garret? Leave your travelling-bag here, +child; the servants shall carry it in for you." + +"This is so kind of you, ma'am, and sir," said Philip, with a lump in +his throat; and able to speak his gratitude the less, because he felt +it the more. + +"I am the one you ought to thank," said Madge archly, thus calling +forth a reproving "Margaret!" from her mother, and an embarrassed +smile--part amusement, part thanks, part admiration--from Philip. The +smile so pleased Madge, that she gave one in return and then actually +dropped her eyes. + +I saw with a pang that the newcomer was already in love with her, and +I knew that the novelty of his adoration would make her oblivious of +my existence for at least a week to come. But I bore him no malice, +and as the Faringfields turned toward the rear veranda of the house, I +said: + +"Come and play with me whenever you like. That's where I live, next +door. My name is Herbert Russell, but they call me Bert, for short." + +"Thank you," said Winwood, and was just about to go down the garden +walk between Madge and little Tom, when the whole party was stopped by +a faint boo-hooing, in a soft and timid voice, a short distance up the +street. + +"'Tis Fanny," cried Mrs. Faringfield, affrightedly, and ran out from +the garden to the street. + +"Ned has been bullying her," said Madge, anger suddenly firing her +pretty face. And she, too, was in the street in a moment, followed by +all of us, Philip Winwood joining with a ready boyish curiosity and +interest in what concerned his new acquaintances. + +Sure enough, it was Fanny Faringfield, Madge's younger sister, coming +along the street, her knuckles in her eyes, the tears streaming down +her face; and behind her, with his fists in his coat pockets, and his +cruel, sneering laugh on his bold, handsome face, came Ned, the eldest +of the four Faringfield young ones. He and Fanny were returning from a +children's afternoon tea-party at the Wilmots' house in William +Street, from which entertainment Madge had stayed away because she had +had another quarrel with Ned, whom she, with her self-love and high +spirit, had early learned to hate for his hectoring and domineering +nature. I shared Madge's feeling there, and was usually at daggers +drawn with Ned Faringfield; for I never would take any man's +browbeating. Doubtless my own quickness of temper was somewhat to +blame. I know that it got me into many fights, and had, in fact, kept +me too from that afternoon's tea, I being then not on speaking terms +with one of the Wilmot boys. As for Madge's detestation of Ned, she +made up for it by her love of little Tom, who then and always deserved +it. Tom was a true, kind, honest, manly fellow, from his cradle to +that sad night outside the Kingsbridge tavern. Madge loved Fanny too, +but less wholly. As for Fanny, dear girl, she loved them all, even +Ned, to whom she rendered homage and obedience; and to save whom from +their father's hard wrath, she now, at sight of us all issuing from +the gateway, suddenly stopped crying and tried to look as if nothing +were the matter. + +Ned, seeing his father, paled and hesitated; but the next moment came +swaggering on, his face showing a curious succession of fear, +defiance, cringing, and a crafty hope of lying out of his offence. + +It was, of course, the very thing Fanny did to shield him, that +certainly betrayed him; and when I knew from her sudden change of +conduct that he was indeed to blame, I would gladly have attacked him, +despite that he was twelve years old and I but ten. But I dared not +move in the presence of our elders, and moreover I saw at once Ned's +father would deal with him to our complete satisfaction. + +"Go to your room, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, in his sternest tone, +looking his anger out of eyes as hard as steel. This meant for Master +Ned no supper, and probably much worse. + +"Please, sir, I didn't do anything," answered Ned, with ill-feigned +surprise. "She fell and hurt her arm." + +Fanny did not deny this, but she was no liar, and could not confirm +it. So she looked to the ground, and clasped her left wrist with her +right hand. But in this latter movement she again exposed her brother +by the very means she took to protect him; for quick-seeing Madge, +observing the action, gently but firmly unclasped the younger sister's +hand, and so disclosed the telltale marks of Ned's fingers upon the +delicate wrist, by squeezing or wrenching which that tyrant had +evinced his brotherly superiority. + +At sight of this, Mrs. Faringfield gave a low cry of horror and +maternal pity, and fell to caressing the bruised wrist; and Madge, +raising her arm girl-wise, began to rain blows on her brother, which +fell wherever they might, but where none of them could hurt. Her +father, without reproving her, drew her quietly back, and with a +countenance a shade darker than before, pointed out the way for Ned +toward the veranda leading to the rear hall-door. + +With a vindictive look, and pouting lips, Ned turned his steps down +the walk. Just then he noticed Philip Winwood, who had viewed every +detail of the scene with wonder, and who now regarded Ned with a kind +of vaguely disliking curiosity, such as one bestows on some +sinister-looking strange animal. Philip's look was, of course, +unconscious, but none the less clearly to be read for that. Ned +Faringfield, pausing on his way, stared at the unknown lad, with an +expression of insolent inquiry. Not daring to stay for questions, but +observing the valise, he seemed to become aware that the newcomer was +an already accepted guest of the house; and he thereupon surveyed +Philip a moment, inwardly measuring him as a possible comrade or +antagonist, but affecting a kind of disdain. A look from his father +ended Ned's inspection, and sent him hastily toward his imprisonment, +whither he went with no one's pity but Fanny's--for his mother had +become afraid of him, and little Tom took his likes and dislikes from +his sister Madge. + +And so they went in to supper, disappearing from my sight behind the +corner of the parlour wing as they mounted the rear veranda: Mr. and +Mrs. Faringfield first, the mother leading Fanny by the wounded wrist; +the big dog next, wagging his tail for no particular reason; and then +Philip Winwood, with his cat in his basket, Madge at one side of him +and pretending an interest in the kitten while from beneath her lashes +she alertly watched the boy himself, little Tom on the other side +holding Philip's hand. I stood at the gateway, looking after; and with +all my young infatuation for Madge, I had no feeling but one of +liking, for this quiet, strange lad, with the pale, kind face. And I +would to God I might see those three still walking together, as when +children, through this life that has dealt so strangely with them all +since that Summer evening. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_The Faringfields._ + + +Having shown how Philip Winwood came among us, I ought to tell at +once, though of course I learned it from him afterwards, all that need +be known of his previous life. His father, after leaving Oxford and +studying medicine in Edinburgh, had married a lady of the latter city, +and emigrated to Philadelphia to practise as a physician. But whether +'twas that the Quaker metropolis was overstocked with doctors even +then, or for other reasons, there was little call for Doctor Winwood's +ministrations. Moreover, he was of so book-loving a disposition that +if he happened to have sat down to a favourite volume, and a request +came for his services, it irked him exceedingly to respond. This being +noticed and getting abroad, did not help him in his profession. + +The birth of Philip adding to the doctor's expenses, it soon came +about that, in the land where he had hoped to make a new fortune, he +parted with the last of what fortune he had originally possessed. Then +occurred to him the ingenious thought of turning bookseller, a +business which, far from requiring that he should ever absent himself +from his precious volumes, demanded rather that he should always be +among them. But the stock that he laid in, turned out to comprise +rather such works as a gentleman of learning would choose for company, +than such as the people of Philadelphia preferred to read. +Furthermore, when some would-be purchaser appeared, it often happened +that the book he offered to buy was one for which the erudite dealer +had acquired so strong an affection that he would not let it change +owners. Nor did his wife much endeavour to turn him from this +untradesmanlike course. Besides being a gentle and affectionate woman, +she had that admiration for learning which, like excessive warmth of +heart and certain other traits, I have observed to be common between +the Scotch (she was of Edinburgh, as I have said) and the best of the +Americans. + +Such was Philip's father, and when he died of some trouble of the +heart, there was nothing for his widow to do but continue the +business. She did this with more success than the doctor had had, +though many a time it smote her heart to sell some book of those that +her husband had loved, and to the backs of which she had become +attached for his sake and through years of acquaintance. But the +necessities of her little boy and herself cried out, and so did the +debt her husband had accumulated as tangible result of his business +career. By providing books of a less scholarly, more popular +character, such as novels, sermons, plays, comic ballads, religious +poems, and the like; as well as by working with her needle, and +sometimes copying legal and other documents, Mrs. Winwood managed to +keep the kettle boiling. And in the bookselling and the copying, she +soon came to have the aid of Philip. + +The boy, too, loved books passionately, finding in them consolation +for the deprivations incidental to his poverty. But, being keenly +sympathetic, he had a better sense of his mother's necessities than +his father had shown, and to the amelioration of her condition and his +own, he sacrificed his love of books so far as to be, when occasion +offered, an uncomplaining seller of those he liked, and a dealer in +those he did not like. His tastes were, however, broader than his +father's, and he joyfully lost himself in the novels and plays his +father would have disdained. + +He read, indeed, everything he could put his hands on, that had, to +his mind, reason, or wit, or sense, or beauty. Many years later, when +we were in London, his scholarly yet modest exposition of a certain +subject eliciting the praise of a group in a Pall Mall tavern, and he +being asked "What university he was of," he answered, with a playful +smile, "My father's bookshop." It was, indeed, his main school of +book-learning. But, as I afterward told him, he had studied in the +university of life also. However, I am now writing of his boyhood in +Philadelphia; and of that there is only this left to be said. + +In catering to his mind, he did not neglect bodily skill either. His +early reading of Plutarch and other warlike works had filled him with +desire to emulate the heroes of battle. An old copy of Saviolo's book +on honour and fence, written in the reign of Elizabeth, or James, I +forget which, had in some manner found its way to his father's +shelves; and from this Philip secretly obtained some correct ideas of +swordsmanship.[2] Putting them in practice one day in the shop, with a +stick, when he thought no one was looking, he suddenly heard a cry of +"bravo" from the street door, and saw he was observed by a Frenchman, +who had recently set up in Philadelphia as a teacher of fencing, +dancing, and riding. This expert, far from allowing Philip to be +abashed, complimented and encouraged him; entered the shop, and made +friends with him. The lad, being himself as likable as he found the +lively foreigner interesting, became in time something of a comrade to +the fencing master. The end of this was that, in real or pretended +return for the loan of Saviolo's book, the Frenchman gave Philip a +course of instruction and practice in each of his three arts. + +To these the boy added, without need of a teacher, the ability to +shoot, both with gun and with pistol. I suppose it was from being so +much with his mother, between whom and himself there must have existed +the most complete devotion, that notwithstanding his manly and +scholarly accomplishments, his heart, becoming neither tough like the +sportsman's nor dry like the bookworm's, remained as tender as a +girl's--or rather as a girl's is commonly supposed to be. His mother's +death, due to some inward ailment of which the nature was a problem to +the doctors, left him saddened but too young to be embittered. And +this was the Philip Winwood--grave and shy from having been deprived +too much of the company of other boys, but with certain mental and +bodily advantages of which too much of that company would have +deprived him--who was taken into the house of the Faringfields in the +Summer of 1763. + +The footing on which he should remain there was settled the very +morning after his arrival. Mr. Faringfield, a rigid and prudent man, +but never a stingy one, made employment for him as a kind of messenger +or under clerk in his warehouse. The boy fell gratefully into the new +life, passing his days in and about the little counting-room that +looked out on Mr. Faringfield's wharf on the East River. He found it +dull work, the copying of invoices, the writing of letters to +merchants in other parts of the world, the counting of articles of +cargo, and often the bearing a hand in loading or unloading some +schooner or dray; but as beggars should not be choosers, so +beneficiaries should not be complainers, and Philip kept his feelings +to himself. + +Mr. Faringfield was an exacting master, whose rule was that his men +should never be idle, even at times when there seemed nothing to do. +If no task was at hand, they should seek one; and if none could be +found, he was like to manufacture one. Thus was Phil denied the +pleasure of brightening or diversifying his day with reading, for +which he could have found time enough. He tried to be interested in +his work, and he in part succeeded, somewhat by good-fellowship with +the jesting, singing, swearing wharfmen and sailors, somewhat by +dwelling often on the thought that he was filling his small place in a +great commerce which touched so distant shores, and so many countries, +of the world. He used to watch the vessels sail, on the few and +far-between days when there were departures, and wish, with inward +sighs, that he might sail with them. A longing to see the great world, +the Europe of history, the Britain of his ancestors, had been +implanted in him by his reading, before he had come to New York, and +the desire was but intensified by his daily contact with the one end +of a trade whose other end lay beyond the ocean. + +Outside of the hours of business, Philip's place was that of a member +of the Faringfield household, where, save in the one respect that +after his first night it was indeed the garret room that fell to him, +he was on terms of equality with the children. Ned alone, of them all, +affected toward him the manner of a superior to a dependent. Whatever +were Philip's feelings regarding this attitude of the elder son, he +kept them locked within, and had no more to say to Master Ned than +absolute civility required. With the two girls and little Tom, and +with me, he was, evenings and Sundays, the pleasantest playfellow in +the world. + +Ungrudgingly he gave up to us, once we had made the overtures, the +time he would perhaps rather have spent over his books; for he had +brought a few of these from Philadelphia, a fact which accounted for +the exceeding heaviness of his travelling bag, and he had access, of +course, to those on Mr. Faringfield's shelves. His compliance with our +demands was the more kind, as I afterward began to see, for that his +day's work often left him quite tired out. Of this we never thought; +we were full of the spirits pent up all day at school, Madge and Fanny +being then learners at the feet of a Boston maiden lady in our street, +while I yawned and idled my hours away on the hard benches of a Dutch +schoolmaster near the Broadway, under whom Ned Faringfield also was a +student. But fresh as we were, and tired as Philip was, he was always +ready for a romp in our back yard, or a game of hide-and-seek in the +Faringfields' gardens, or a chase all the way over to the Bowling +Green, or all the way up to the Common where the town ended and the +Bowery lane began. + +But it soon came out that Phil's books were not neglected, either. The +speed with which his candles burnt down, and required renewal, told of +nocturnal studies in his garret. As these did not perceptibly +interfere with his activity the next day, they were viewed by Mr. +Faringfield rather with commendation than otherwise, and so were +allowed to continue. My mother thought it a sin that no one interfered +to prevent the boy's injuring his health; but when she said this to +Phil himself, he only smiled and answered that if his reading did cost +him anything of health, 'twas only fair a man should pay something for +his pleasures. + +My mother's interest in the matter arose from a real liking. She saw +much of Philip, for he and the three younger Faringfields were as +often about our house as about their own. Ours was not nearly as fine; +'twas a white-painted wooden house, like those in New England, but +roomy enough for its three only occupants, my mother and me and the +maid. We were not rich, but neither were we of the poorest. My father, +the predecessor of Mr. Aitken in the customs office, had left +sufficient money in the English funds at his death, to keep us in the +decent circumstances we enjoyed, and there was yet a special fund +reserved for my education. So we could be neighbourly with the +Faringfields, and were so; and so all of us children, including +Philip, were as much at home in the one house as in the other. + +One day, in the Fall of that year of Philip's arrival, we young ones +were playing puss-in-a-corner in the large garden--half orchard, half +vegetable plantation--that formed the rear of the Faringfields' +grounds. It was after Phil's working hours, and a pleasant, cool, +windy evening. The maple leaves were yellowing, the oak leaves turning +red. I remember how the wind moved the apple-tree boughs, and the +yellow corn-stalks waiting to be cut and stacked as fodder. (When I +speak of corn, I do not use the word in the English sense, of grain in +general, but in the American sense, meaning maize, of which there are +two kinds, the sweet kind being most delicious to eat, as either kind +is a beautiful sight when standing in the field, the tall stalks +waving their many arms in the breeze.) We were all laughing, and +running from tree to tree, when in from the front garden came Ned, his +face wearing its familiar cruel, bullying, spoil-sport smile. + +The wind blowing out Madge's brown hair as she ran, I suppose put him +in mind of what to do. For all at once, clapping his hand to his +mouth, and imitating the bellowing war-whoop of an Indian, he rushed +upon us in that character, caught hold of Madge's hair, and made off +as if to drag her away by it. She, screaming, tried to resist, but of +course could not get into an attitude for doing so while he pulled her +so fast. The end of it was, that she lost her balance and fell, thus +tearing her hair from his grasp. + +I, being some distance away, picked up an apple and flung it at the +persecutor's head, which I missed by half an inch. Before I could +follow the apple, Philip had taken the work out of my hands. + +"You are a savage," said Phil, in a low voice, but with a fiery eye, +confronting Ned at close quarters. + +"And what are you?" replied young Faringfield promptly. "You're a +beggar, that's what you are! A beggar that my father took in." + +For a moment or two Phil regarded his insulter in amazed silence; then +answered: + +"If only you weren't her brother!" + +Here Madge spoke up, from the ground on which she sat: + +"Oh, don't let that stop you, Phil!" + +"I sha'n't," said Phil, with sudden decision, and the next instant the +astounded Ned was recoiling from a solid blow between the eyes. + +Of course he immediately returned the compliment in kind, and as Ned +was a strong fellow, Phil had all he could do to hold his own in the +ensuing scuffle. How long this might have lasted, I don't know, had +not Fanny run between, with complete disregard of her own safety, +calling out: + +"Oh, Phil, you mustn't hurt Ned!" + +Her interposition being aided on the other side by little Tom, who +seized Ned's coat-tails and strove to pull him away from injuring +Philip, the two combatants, their boyish belligerence perhaps having +had enough for the time, separated, both panting. + +"I'll have it out with you yet!" said Master Ned, short-windedly, +adjusting his coat, and glaring savagely. + +"All right!" said Phil, equally out of breath. Ned then left the +field, with a look of contempt for the company. + +After that, things went on in the old pleasant manner, except that +Ned, without any overt act to precipitate a fight, habitually treated +Phil with a most annoying air of scorn and derision. This, though +endured silently, was certainly most exasperating. + +But it had not to be endured much of the time, for Ned had grown more +and more to disdain our society, and to cultivate companions superior +to us in years and knowledge of the world. They were, indeed, a smart, +trick-playing, swearing set, who aped their elders in drinking, +dicing, card-gambling, and even in wenching. Their zest in this +imitation was the greater for being necessarily exercised in secret +corners, and for their freshness to the vices they affected. + +I do not say I was too good for this company and their practices; or +that Philip was either. Indeed we had more than a mere glimpse of +both, for boys, no matter how studious or how aspiring in the long +run, will see what life they can; will seek the taste of forbidden +fruit, and will go looking for temptations to yield to. Indeed, the +higher a boy's intelligence, the more eager may be his curiosity for, +his first enjoyment of, the sins as well as the other pleasures. What +banished us--Philip and me--from Ned's particular set was, first, +Ned's enmity toward us; second, our attachment to a clan of boys +equally bent on playing the rake in secret, though of better +information and manners than Ned's comrades could boast of; third, +Phil's fondness for books, and mine for him; and finally, our love for +Madge. + +This last remained unaltered in both of us. As for Madge, as I had +predicted to myself, she had gradually restored me to my old place in +her consideration as the novelty of Philip's newer devotion had worn +off. We seemed now to be equals in her esteem. At one time Phil would +apparently stand uppermost there, at another I appeared to be +preferred. But this alternating superiority was usually due to casual +circumstance. Sometimes, I suppose, it owed itself to caprice; +sometimes, doubtless, to deep design unsuspected by either of us. Boys +are not men until they are well grown; but women are women from their +first compliment. On the whole, as I have said, Phil and I were very +even rivals. + +It was sometime in the winter--Philip's first winter with the +Faringfields--that the next outbreak came, between him and Master +Edward. If ever the broad mansion of the Faringfields looked warm and +welcoming, it was in midwinter. The great front doorway, with its +fanlight above, and its panel windows at each side, through which the +light shone during the long evenings, and with its broad stone steps +and out-curving iron railings, had then its most hospitable aspect. +One evening that it looked particularly inviting to me, was when Ned +and the two girls and I were returning with our skates from an +afternoon spent on Beekman's pond. Large flakes were falling softly on +snow already laid. Darkness had caught up with us on the way home, and +when we came in sight of the cheery light enframing the Faringfields' +wide front door, and showing also from the windows at one side, I was +not sorry I was to eat supper with them that evening, my mother having +gone sleighing to visit the Murrays at Incledon, with whom she was to +pass the night. As we neared the door, tired and hungry, whom should +we see coming toward it from the other direction but Philip Winwood. +He had worked over the usual time at the warehouse. Before the girls +or I could exchange halloes with Phil, we were all startled to hear +Ned call out to him, in a tone even more imperious than the words: + +"Here, you, come and take my skates, and carry them in, and tell +mother I've stopped at Jack Van Cortlandt's house a minute." + +And he stood waiting for Phil to do his bidding. The rest of us +halted, also; while Phil stopped where he was, looking as if he could +not have heard aright. + +"Come, are you deaf?" cried Ned, impatiently. "Do as you're bid, and +be quick about it." + +Now, of course, there was nothing wrong in merely asking a comrade, as +one does ask a comrade such things, to carry in one's skates while one +stopped on the way. No one was ever readier than Phil to do such +little offices, or great ones either. Indeed, it is the American way +to do favours, even when not requested, and even to inferiors. I have +seen an American gentleman of wealth go in the most natural manner to +the assistance of his own servant in a task that seemed to overtax the +latter, and think nothing of it. But in the case I am relating; apart +from the fact that I, being nearer than Phil, was the proper one of +whom to ask the favour; the phrase and manner were those of a master +to a servant; a rough master and a stupid servant, moreover. And so +Philip, after a moment, merely laughed, and went on his way toward the +door. + +At this Master Ned stepped forward with the spirit of chastisement in +his eyes, his skates held back as if he meant to strike Phil with +their sharp blades. But it happened that Philip had by now mounted the +first door-step, and thus stood higher than his would-be assailant. So +Master Ned stopped just out of Philip's reach, and said insolently: + +"'Tis time you were taught your place, young fellow. You're one of my +father's servants, that's all; so take in my skates, or I'll show +you." + +"You're wrong there," said Phil, with forced quietness. "A clerk or +messenger, in business, is not a personal servant." + +"Take in these skates, or I'll brain you with 'em!" cried Ned, to +that. + +"Come on and brain!" cried Phil. + +"By G----d, I will that!" replied Ned, and made to swing the skates +around by the straps. But his arm was, at that instant, caught in a +powerful grip, and, turning about in surprise, he looked into the +hard, cold eyes of his father, who had come up unseen, having stayed; +at the warehouse even later than Phil. + +"If any blows are struck here, you sha'n't be the one to strike them, +sir," he said to Ned. "What's this I hear, of servants? I'll teach you +once for all, young man, that in my house Philip is your equal. Go to +your room and think of that till it becomes fixed in your mind." + +To go without supper, with such an appetite, on such a cold night, was +indeed a dreary end for such a day's sport. I, who knew how chilled +and starved Ned must be, really pitied him. + +But instead of slinking off with a whimper, he for the first time in +his life showed signs of revolt. + +"What if I don't choose to go to my room?" he answered, impudently, to +our utmost amazement. "You may prefer an outside upstart over your +son, if you like, but you can't always make your son a prisoner by the +ordering." + +Mr. Faringfield showed little of the astonishment and paternal wrath +he doubtless felt. He gazed coldly at his defiant offspring a moment; +then took a step toward him. But Ned, with the agility of boyhood, +turned and ran, looking back as he went, and stopping only when he was +at a safe distance. + +"Come back," called his father, not risking his dignity in a doubtful +pursuit, but using such a tone that few would dare to disobey the +command. + +"Suppose I don't choose to come back," answered Ned, to whose head the +very devil had now certainly mounted. "Maybe there's other places to +go to, where one doesn't have to stand by and see an upstart beggar +preferred to himself, and put in his place, and fed on the best while +he's lying hungry in his dark room." + +"If there's another place for you, I'd advise you to find it," said +Mr. Faringfield, after a moment's reflection. + +"Oh, I'll find it," was the reply; and then came what Master Ned knew +would be the crowning taunt and insult to his father. "If it comes to +the worst, I know how I can get to England, where I'd rather be, +anyway." + +There was a reason why Mr. Faringfield's face turned dark as a +thunder-cloud at this. You must know, first, that in him alone was +embodied the third generation of colonial Faringfields. The founder of +the American branch of the family, having gone pretty nearly to the +dogs at home, and got into close quarters with the law, received from +his people the alternative of emigrating to Virginia or suffering +justice to take its course. Tossing up his last sixpence, he +indifferently observed, on its coming down, that it lay in favour of +Virginia. So he chose emigration, and was shipped off, upon condition +that if he ever again set foot in England he should be forthwith +turned over to the merciless law. His relations, as he perceived, +cherished the hope that he would die of a fever likely to be caught on +the piece of marshy land in Virginia which they, in a belief that it +was worthless, had made over to him. Pondering on this on the voyage, +and perhaps having had his fill of the flesh and the devil, he +resolved to disappoint his family. And, to make short a very long +story of resolution and toil, he did so, becoming at last one of the +richest tobacco-planters in the province. + +He might now have returned to England with safety; but his resentment +against the people who had exiled him when they might have compounded +with justice otherwise, extended even to their country, which he no +longer called his, and he abode still by the condition of his +emigration. He married a woman who had her own special reasons for +inimical feelings toward the English authorities, which any one may +infer who is familiar with one phase (though this was not as large a +phase as English writers seem to think) of the peopling of Virginia. +Although she turned over a new leaf in the province, and seems to have +been a model wife and parent, she yet retained a sore heart against +the mother country. The feeling of these two was early inculcated into +the minds of their children, and their eldest son, in whom it amounted +almost to a mania, transmitted it on to his own successor, our Mr. +Faringfield of Queen Street. + +The second Faringfield (father of ours), being taken with a desire for +the civilities and refinements of a town life, moved from Virginia to +New York, married there a very worthy lady of Dutch patroon descent, +and, retaining his Virginia plantation, gradually extended his +business, so that he died a general merchant, with a European and a +West Indian trade, and with vessels of his own. He it was that built +the big Faringfield house in Queen Street. He was of an aspiring mind, +for one in trade, and had even a leaning toward book-knowledge and the +ornaments of life. He was, moreover, an exceedingly proud man, as if a +haughty way were needful to a man of business and an American, in +order to check the contempt with which he might be treated as either. +His large business, his pride, his unreasonable hatred of England +(which he never saw), and a very fine and imposing appearance, he +passed down to our Mr. Faringfield, by whom all these inheritances +were increased. This gentleman, sensible of the injustice of an +inherited dislike not confirmed by experience, took occasion of some +business to make a visit to England, shortly after his father's death. +I believe he called upon his English cousins, now some degrees +removed, and, finding them in their generation ignorant that there +were any American Faringfields, was so coldly received by them, as +well as by the men with whom his business brought him in contact, that +he returned more deeply fixed in his dislike, and with a determination +that no Faringfield under his control should ever again breathe the +air of the mother island. He even chose a wife of French, rather than +English, descent; though, indeed, the De Lanceys, notwithstanding they +were Americans of Huguenot origin, were very good Englishmen, as the +issue proved when the separation came. + +Miss De Lancey, however, at that time, had no views or feelings as +between the colonies and England; or if she had any, scarcely knew +what they were. She was a pretty, innocent, small-minded woman; with +no very large heart either, I fancy; and without force of character; +sometimes a little shrewish when vexed, and occasionally given to +prolonged whining complaints, which often won the point with her +husband, as a persistent mosquito will drive a man from a field whence +a giant's blows would not move him. She heard Mr. Faringfield's +tirades against England, with neither disagreement nor assent; and she +let him do what he could to instil his own antagonism into the +children. How he succeeded, or failed, will appear in time. I have +told enough to show why Master Ned's threatening boast, of knowing how +to get to England, struck his father like a blow in the face. + +I looked to see Mr. Faringfield now stride forth at all risk and +inflict upon Master Ned some chastisement inconceivable; and Ned +himself took a backward step or two. But his father, after a moment of +dark glowering, merely answered, though in a voice somewhat unsteady +with anger: + +"To England or the devil, my fine lad, before ever you enter my door, +until you change your tune!" + +Whereupon he motioned the rest of us children to follow him into the +house, leaving his eldest son to turn and trudge defiantly off into +the darkness. From Ned's manner of doing this, I knew that he was sure +of shelter for that night, at least. Noah, the old black servant, +having seen his master through the panel windows, had already opened +the door; and so we went in to the warm, candle-lit hall, Mr. +Faringfield's agitation now perfectly under control, and his anger +showing not at all upon his surface of habitual sternness. + +As for the others, Phil walked in a kind of deep, troubled study, into +which he had been thrown by Ned's words regarding him; I was awed into +breathless silence and a mouse-like tread; and kind little Fanny went +gently sobbing with sorrow and fear for her unhappy brother--a sorrow +and fear not shared in the least degree by her sister Madge, whose +face showed triumphant approval of her father's course and of the +outcome. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_Wherein 'tis Shown that Boys Are but Boys._ + + +The Faringfield house, as I have said, was flanked by garden space on +either side. It was on the Eastern side of the street, and so faced +West, the next house Southward being ours. The wide hall that we +entered ran straight back to a door opening from a wooden veranda that +looked toward the rear garden. At the right of this hall, as you went +in, a broad oak stairway invited you to the sleeping floor above. But +before you came to this stairway, you passed a door that gave into the +great parlour, which ran the whole length of the hall, and, being used +only on occasions of festivity or ceremony, was now closed and dark. +At the left of the hall, the first door led to the smaller parlour, as +wide but not as long as the great one, and in daily use as the chief +living-room of the house. Its windows were those through which the +candle-light within had welcomed us from the frosty, snowy air that +evening. Behind this parlour, and reached either directly from it, or +by a second door at the left side of the hall, was the library, +so-called although a single case of eight shelves sufficed to hold all +the books it contained. Yet Philip said there was a world in those +books. The room was a small and singularly cosy one, and here, when +Mr. Faringfield was not occupied at the mahogany desk, we children +might play at chess, draughts, cards, and other games. From this room, +one went back into the dining-room, another apartment endeared to me +by countless pleasant memories. Its two windows looked Southward +across the side grounds (for the hall and great parlour came not so +far back) to our house and garden. Behind the dining-room, and +separating it from the kitchen and pantry, was a passage with a back +stairway and with a bench of washing-basins, easily supplied with +water from a cistern below, and from the kettle in the adjacent +kitchen. To this place we youngsters now hastened, to put ourselves to +rights for supper. The house was carpeted throughout. The great +parlour was panelled in wood, white and gold. The other chief rooms +were wainscoted in oak; and as to their upper walls, some were bright +with French paper, while some shone white with smooth plaster; their +ceilings and borders were decorated with arabesque woodwork. There +were tiled fireplaces, with carved mantels, white, like the +rectangular window-frames and panelled doors. Well, well, 'twas but a +house like countless others, and why should I so closely describe +it?--save that I love the memory of it, and fain would linger upon its +commonest details. + +Mighty snug was the dining-room that evening, with its oaken +sideboard, its prints and portraits on the wall, its sputtering fire, +and its well-filled table lighted from a candelabrum in the centre. +The sharp odour of the burning pine was keen to the nostrils, and +mingled with it was the smell of the fried ham. There was the softer +fragrance of the corn meal mush or porridge, served with milk, and +soft was the taste of it also. We had sausage cakes, too, and pancakes +to be eaten either with butter or with the syrup of the maple-tree; +and jam, and jelly, and fruit butter. These things seem homely fare, +no doubt, but there was a skill of cookery in the fat old negress, +Hannah--a skill consisting much in the plentiful use of salt and +pepper at proper stages--that would have given homelier fare a relish +to more fastidious tongues. I miss in the wholesome but limited and +unseasoned diet of the English the variety and savouriness of American +food (I mean the food of the well-to-do in the large towns), which +includes all the English and Scotch dishes, corrected of their +insipidity, besides countless dishes French, German, and Dutch, and +many native to the soil, all improved and diversified by the +surprising genius for cookery which, in so few generations, the negro +race has come to exhibit. I was a busy lad at that meal; a speechless +one, consequently, and for some minutes so engrossed in the business +of my jaws that I did not heed the unwonted silence of the rest. Then +suddenly it came upon me as something embarrassing and painful that +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, who usually conversed at meals, had nothing +to say, and that Philip Winwood sat gloomy and taciturn, merely going +through a hollow form of eating. As for Fanny, she was the picture of +childish sorrow, though now tearless. Only Madge and little Tom, who +had found some joke between themselves, occasionally spluttered with +suppressed laughter, smiling meanwhile knowingly at each other. + +Of course this depression was due to the absence of Ned, regarding the +cause of which his mother was still in the dark. Not missing him until +we children had filed in to supper after tidying up, she had then +remarked that he was not yet in. + +"He will not be home to supper," Mr. Faringfield had replied, in a +tone that forbade questioning until the pair should be alone, and +motioning his wife to be seated at the table. After that he had once +or twice essayed to talk upon casual subjects, as if nothing had +happened, but he had perceived that the attempt was hopeless while +Mrs. Faringfield remained in her state of deferred curiosity and vague +alarm, and so he had desisted. + +After supper, which the lady's impatience made shorter than my +appetite would have dictated, the husband and wife went into the small +parlour, closing the door upon us children in the library. Here I +managed to make a pleasant evening, in games with Madge and little Tom +upon the floor. But Philip, though he came in as was his wont, was not +to be lured into our play or our talk. He did not even read, but sat +silent and pondering, in no cheerful mood. I, not reading him as Madge +did, knew not what the matter was, and accused him of having vapours, +like a girl. He looked at me heedlessly, in reply, as if he scarce +heard. But Madge, apparently, divined his feeling, and at times +respected it, for then she spoke low, and skilfully won me back from +my efforts to enliven him. At other times, his way seemed to irritate +her, and she hinted that he was foolish, and then she was +extraordinarily smiling and adorable to me (always, I now suspect, +with the corner of her eye upon him) as if to draw him back to his +usual good-fellowship by that method. But 'twas in vain. I left at +bedtime, wondering what change had come over him. + +That night, I learned afterward, Philip slept little, debating +sorrowfully in his mind. He kept his window slightly open at night, in +all weather; and open also that night was one of the windows of Mr. +and Mrs. Faringfield's great chamber below. A sound that reached him +in the small hours, of Mrs. Faringfield whimpering and weeping, +decided him. And the next morning, after another silent meal, he +contrived to fall into Mr. Faringfield's company on the way to the +warehouse, which they had almost reached ere Phil, very down in the +mouth and perturbed, got up his courage to his unpleasant task and +blundered out in a boyish, frightened way: + +"If you please, sir, I wished to tell you--I've made up my mind to +leave--and thank you very much for all your kindness!" + +Mr. Faringfield stared from under his gathered brows, and asked Phil +to repeat the strange thing he had said. + +"Leave what, sir?" he queried sharply, when Phil had done so. + +"Leave your warehouse, sir; and your house; and New York." + +"What do you mean, my boy?" + +And Phil, thankful that Mr. Faringfield had paused to have the talk +out ere they should come among the men at the warehouse, explained at +first in vague terms, but finally in the explicit language to which +his benefactor's questions forced him, that he seemed, in Master Ned's +mind, to be standing in Ned's way; that he would not for the world +appear to supplant any man's son, much less the son of one who had +been so kind to him; that he had unintentionally been the cause of +Ned's departure the evening before; and that he hoped his going would +bring Ned back from the absence which caused his mother grief. "And I +wouldn't stay in New York after leaving you, sir," he said, "for +'twould look as if you and I had disagreed." + +To all this Mr. Faringfield replied briefly that Ned was a foolish +boy, and would soon enough come back, glad of what welcome he might +get; and that, as for Philip's going away, it was simply not to be +heard of. But Phil persisted, conceding only that he should remain at +the warehouse for an hour that morning and complete a task he had left +unfinished. Mr. Faringfield still refused to have it that Phil should +go at all. + +When Philip had done his hour's work, he went in to his employer's +office to say good-bye. + +"Tut, tut," said Mr. Faringfield, looking annoyed at the interruption, +"there's no occasion for goodbyes. But look you, lad. I don't mind +your taking the day off, to put yourself into a reasonable state of +mind. Go home, and enjoy a holiday, and come back to your work +to-morrow, fresh and cheerful. Now, now, boy, I won't hear any more. +Only do as I bid you." And he assumed a chilling reserve that indeed +froze all further possible discussion. + +"But I do say good-bye, sir, and mean it," said Phil, tremulously. +"And I thank you from my heart for all you've done for me." + +And so, with a lump in his throat, Phil hastened home, and sped up the +stairs unseen, like a ghost; and had all his things out on his bed for +packing, when suddenly Madge, who had been astonished to hear him +moving about, from her mother's room below, flung open his door and +looked in upon him, all amazed. + +"Why, Phil, what are you doing home at this hour? What are you putting +your things into your valise for?" + +"Oh, nothing," said Phil, very downcast. + +"Why, it looks as if--you were going away somewhere." + +Phil made a brief answer; and then there was a long talk, all the +while he continued to pack his goods, in his perturbation stowing +things together in strange juxtaposition. The end of it was that +Madge, after vowing that if he went she would never speak to him +again, and would hate him for ever, indignantly left him to himself. +Phil went on packing, in all the outward calmness he could muster, +though I'll wager with a very pouting and dismal countenance. At last, +his possessions being bestowed, and the bag fastened with much +physical exertion, he left it on the bed, and slipped down-stairs to +find his one remaining piece of property. Philip's cat had waxed plump +in the Faringfield household, Master Ned always deterred from harming +it by the knowledge that if aught ill befell it, the finger of +accusation would point instantly and surely at him. + +Phil was returning up the stairs, his pet under his arm, when Mistress +Madge reappeared before him, with magic unexpectedness, from a doorway +opening on a landing. As she stood in his way there, he stopped, and +the two faced each other. + +"Well," said she, with sarcastic bitterness, "I suppose you've decided +where you're going to." + +"Not yet," he replied. He had thought vaguely of Philadelphia or +Boston, either of which he now had means of reaching, having saved +most of his small salary at the warehouse, for he was not a bound +apprentice. + +"I make no doubt," she went on, "'twill be the farthest place you can +find." + +Phil gave her a reproachful look, and asked where her mother and the +children were, that he might bid them good-bye. He wondered, indeed, +that Madge had not told her mother of his resolve, for, from that +lady's not seeking him at once, he knew that she was still unaware of +it. He little guessed that 'twas the girl's own power over him she +wished to test, and that she would not enlist her mother's persuasions +but as a last resource. + +"I don't know," she replied carelessly. + +"I shall look for them," said Philip, and turned to go down-stairs +again. + +But (though how could a boy imagine it?) Miss Faringfield would not +have it that his yielding should be due to her mother, if it could be +achieved as a victory for herself. So she stopped him with a sudden +tremulous "Oh, Phil!" and, raising her forearm to the door-post, hid +her face against it, and wept as if her heart would break. + +Philip had never before known her to shed a tear, and this new +spectacle, in a second's time, took all the firmness out of him. + +"Why, Madge, I didn't know--don't cry, Madgie--" + +She turned swiftly, without looking up, and her face, still in a +shower of tears, found hiding no longer against the door-post, but +against Phil's breast. + +"Don't cry, Madgie dear,--I sha'n't go!" + +She raised her wet face, joy sparkling where the lines had not yet +lost the shape of grief; and Phil never thought to ask himself how +much of her pleasure was for his not going, and how much for the +evidence given of her feminine power. He had presently another thing +to consider, a not very palatable dose to swallow--the returning to +the warehouse and telling Mr. Faringfield of his change of mind. He +did this awkwardly enough, no doubt, but manfully enough, I'll take my +oath, though he always said he felt never so tamed and small and +ludicrous in his life, before or after. + +And that scene upon the landing is the last picture, but one, I have +to present of childhood days, ere I hasten, over the period that +brought us all into our twenties and to strange, eventful times. The +one remaining sketch is of an unkempt, bedraggled figure that I saw at +the back hall door of the Faringfields one snowy night a week later, +when, for some reason or other, I was out late in our back garden. +This person, instead of knocking at the door, very cautiously tried it +to see if it would open, and, finding it locked, stood timidly back +and gazed at it in a quandary. Suspecting mischief, I went to the +paling fence that separated our ground from the Faringfields', and +called out, "Who's that?" + +"Hallo, Bert!" came in a very conciliating tone, low-spoken; and then, +as with a sudden thought, "Come over here, will you?" + +I crossed the fence, and was in a moment at the side of Master Ned, +who looked exceedingly the worse for wear, in face, figure, and +clothes. + +"Look here," said he, speaking rapidly, so as to prevent my touching +the subject of his return, "I want to sneak in, and up-stairs to bed, +without the old man seeing me. I don't just like to meet him till +to-morrow. But I can't sneak in, for the door's locked, and Noah would +be sure to tell dad. You knock, and when they let you in, pretend you +came to play with the kids; and whisper Fanny to slip out and open the +door for me." + +I entered readily into the strategy, as a boy will, glad of Ned's +return for the sake of Phil, who I knew was ill at ease for Ned's +absence being in some sense due to himself. + +Old Noah admitted me at my knock, locked the door after me, and sent +me into the smaller parlour, where the whole family happened to be. +When I whispered my message to Fanny, she turned so many colours, and +made so precipitately for the entrance hall, that her father was put +on the alert. He followed her quietly out, just in time to see a very +shivering, humble, shamefaced youth step in from the snowy outer +night. The sight of his father turned Ned cold and stiff upon the +threshold; but all the father did was to put on a grim look of +contempt, and say: + +"Well, sir, I suppose you've changed your tune." + +"Yes, sir," said the penitent, meekly, and there being now no reason +for secrecy he shambled after his father into the parlour. There, +after his mother's embrace, he grinned sheepishly upon us all. Fanny +was quite rejoiced, and so was little Tom till the novelty wore off; +while Madge greeted the prodigal good-humouredly enough, and one could +read Phil's relief and forgiveness on his smiling face. Master Ned, +grateful for an easier ordeal than he had feared, made no exception +against Phil in the somewhat sickly amiability he had for all, and we +thought that here were reconciliation and the assurance of future +peace. + +Ned's home-coming brought trouble in its train, as indeed did his +every reappearance afterward. It came out that he and another boy--the +one in whose house he had found refuge on the night of his running +away--had started off for the North to lead the lives of hunters and +trappers, a career so inviting that they could not wait to provide a +sufficient equipment. They travelled afoot by the Albany post-road, +soliciting food at farmhouses, passing their nights in barns; and got +as far as Tarrytown, ere either one in his pride would admit to the +other, through chattering teeth, that he had had his fill of snow and +hunger and the raw winds of the Hudson River. So footsore, leg-weary, +empty, and frozen were they on their way back, that they helped +themselves to one of Jacob Post's horses, near the Philipse +manor-house; and not daring to ride into town on this beast, +thoughtlessly turned it loose in the Bowery lane, never thinking how +certainly it and they could be traced--for they had been noticed at +Van Cortlandt's, again at Kingsbridge, and again at the Blue Bell +tavern. After receiving its liberty, the horse had been seen once, +galloping toward Turtle Bay, and never again. + +So, a few days after Ned's reentrance into the bosom of his family, +there came to the house a constable, of our own town, with a deputy +sent by the sheriff of Westchester County, wanting Master Edward +Faringfield. + +Frightened and disgraced, his mother sent for her husband; and for the +sake of the family name, Mr. Faringfield adjusted matters by the +payment of twice or thrice what the horse was worth. Thus the would-be +hunter and trapper escaped the discomfort and shame of jail; though by +his father's sentence he underwent a fortnight's detention on bread +and water in his bedroom. + +That was the first fright and humiliation that Master Ned brought on +his people; and he brought so many of these in after years, that the +time came when his parents, and all, were rather glad than sorry each +time he packed off again, and shuddered rather than rejoiced when, +after an absence, he turned up safe and healthy as ever, with his old +hangdog smile beneath which lurked a look half-defiant, half-injured. +As he grew older, and the boy in him made room for the man, there was +less of the smile, less injury, more defiance. + +I do not remember how many years it was after Philip's coming to New +York, that our Dutch schoolmaster went the way of all flesh, and there +came in his place, to conduct a school for boys only and in more +advanced studies, a pedagogue from Philadelphia, named Cornelius. He +was of American birth, but of European parentage, whether German or +Dutch I never knew. Certainly he had learning, and much more than was +due alone to his having gone through the college at Princeton in New +Jersey. He was in the early twenties, tall and robust, with a large +round face, and with these peculiarities: that his hair, eyebrows, and +lashes were perfectly white, his eyes of a singularly mild blue, his +skin of a pinkish tint; that he was given to blushing whenever he met +women or strangers, and that he spoke with pedantic preciseness, in a +wondrously low voice. But despite his bashfulness, there was a great +deal in the man, and when an emergency rose he never lacked resource. + +He it was to whom my education, and Ned Faringfield's, was entrusted, +while the girls and little Tom still strove with the rudiments in the +dame-school. He it was that carried us to the portals of college; and +I carried Philip Winwood thither with me, by studying my lessons with +him in the evenings. In many things he was far beyond Mr. Cornelius's +highest teaching; but there had been lapses in his information, and +these he filled up, and regulated his knowledge as well, through +accompanying me in my progress. And he continued so to accompany me, +making better use of my books than ever I made, as I went through the +King's College; and that is the way in which Phil Winwood got his +stock of learning eked out, and put in due shape and order. + +It happened that Philip's taste fastened upon one subject of which +there was scarce anything to be learned by keeping pace with my +studies, but upon which much was to be had from books in the college +library, of which I obtained the use for him. It was a strange subject +for a youth to take up at that time, or any time since, and in that +colonial country--architecture. Yet 'twas just like Phil Winwood to be +interested in something that all around him neglected or knew nothing +about. What hope an American could have in the pursuit of an art, for +which the very rare demands in his country were supplied from Europe, +and which indeed languished the world over, I could not see. + +"Very well, then," said Phil, "'twill be worth while trying to waken +this sleeping art, and to find a place for it in this out-of-the-way +country. I wouldn't presume to attempt new forms, to be sure; but one +might revive some old ones, and maybe try new arrangements of them." + +"Then you think you'll really be an architect?" I asked. + +"Why, if it's possible. 'Faith, I'm not so young any more that I still +want to be a soldier, or a sailor either. One thing, 'twill take years +of study; I'll have to go to Europe for that." + +"To England?" + +"First of all." + +"What will Mr. Faringfield say to that?" + +"He will not mind it so much in my case. I'm not of the Faringfield +blood." + +"Egad," said I, "there's some of the Faringfield blood hankers for a +sight of London." + +"Whose? Ned's?" + +"No. Margaret's." + +We were young men now, and she would not let us call her Madge any +more. What I had said was true. She had not grown up without hearing +and reading much of the great world beyond the sea, and wishing she +might have her taste of its pleasures. She first showed a sense of her +deprivation--for it was a deprivation for a rich man's daughter--when +she finished at the dame-school and we boys entered college. Then she +hinted, very cautiously, that her and Fanny's education was being +neglected, and mentioned certain other New York gentlemen's daughters, +who had been sent to England to boarding-schools. + +Delicately as she did this, the thought that his favourite child could +harbour a wish that involved going to England, was a blow to Mr. +Faringfield. He hastened to remove all cause of complaint on the score +of defective education. He arranged that the music teacher, who gave +the girls their lessons in singing and in playing upon the harpsichord +and guitar, should teach them four days a week instead of two. He +engaged Mr. Cornelius to become an inmate of his house and to give +them tuition out of his regular school hours. He paid a French widow +to instruct them in their pronunciation, their book-French and grammar +being acquired under Mr. Cornelius's teaching. And so, poor girls, +they got only additional work for Margaret's pains. But both of them +were docile, Fanny because it was her nature to be so, Margaret +because she had taken it into her head to become an accomplished lady. +We never guessed her dreams and ambitions in those years, and to this +day I often wonder at what hour in her girlhood the set design took +possession of her, that design which dominated all her actions when we +so little guessed its existence. Besides these three instructors, the +girls had their dancing-master, an Englishman who pretended to impart +not only the best-approved steps of a London assembly-room, but its +manners and graces as well. + +So much for the education of the girls, Philip, and myself. Ned +Faringfield's was interrupted by his expulsion from King's for gross +misconduct; and was terminated by his disgrace at Yale College +(whither his father had sent him in vain hope that he might behave +better away from home and more self-dependent) for beating a smaller +student whom he had cheated at a clandestine game of cards. His +home-coming on this occasion was followed by his being packed off to +Virginia to play at superintending his father's tobacco plantations. +Neglecting this business to go shooting on the frontier, he got a +Scotch Presbyterian mountaineer's daughter into trouble; and when he +turned up again at the door in Queen Street, he was still shaky with +recollections of the mob of riflemen that had chased him out of +Virginia. That piece of sport cost his father a pretty penny, and +resulted in a place being got for Ned with a merchant who was Mr. +Faringfield's correspondent in the Barbadoes. So to the tropics the +young gentleman was shipped, with sighs of relief at his embarkation, +and--I have no doubt--with unuttered prayers that he might not show +his face in Queen Street for a long time to come. Already he had got +the name, in the family, of "the bad shilling," for his always coming +back unlooked for. + +How different was his younger brother!--no longer "little Tom" (though +of but middle height and slim build), but always gay-hearted, +affectionate, innocent, and a gentleman. He was a handsome lad, +without and within--yes, "lad" I must call him, for, though he came to +manly years, he always seemed a boy to me. He followed in our steps, +in his time, through Mr. Cornelius's school, and into King's College, +too, but the coming of the war cut short his studies there. + +It must have been in the year 1772--I remember Margaret spoke of her +being seventeen years old, in which case I was nineteen--when I got +(and speedily forgot) my first glimpse of Margaret's inmost mind. We +were at the play--for New York had had a playhouse ever since Mr. +Hallam had brought thither his company, with whom the great Garrick +had first appeared in London. I cannot recall what the piece was that +night; but I know it must have been a decent one, or Margaret would +not have been allowed to see it; and that it purported to set forth +true scenes of fashionable life in London. At one side of Margaret her +mother sat, at the other was myself, and I think I was that time their +only escort. + +"What a fright!" said Margaret in my ear, as one of the actresses came +upon the stage with an affected gait, and a look of thinking herself +mighty fine and irresistible. "'Tis a slander, this." + +"Of whom?" I asked. + +"Of the fine ladies these poor things pretend to represent." + +"How do you know?" I retorted, for I was somewhat taken with the +actresses, and thought to avenge them by bringing her down a peg or +two. "Have you seen so much of London fine ladies?" + +"No, poor me!" she said sorrowfully, without a bit of anger, so that I +was softened in a trice. "But the ladies of New York, even, are no +such tawdry make-believes as this.--Heaven knows, I would give ten +years of life for a sight of the fine world of London!" + +She was looking so divine at that moment, that I could not but +whisper: + +"You would see nothing finer there than yourself." + +"Do you think so?" she quickly asked, flashing her eyes upon me in a +strange way that called for a serious answer. + +"'Tis the God's truth," I said, earnestly. + +For a moment she was silent; then she whispered: + +"What a silly whimsy of my father, his hatred of England! Does he +imagine none of us is really ever to see the world?--That reminds me, +don't forget the _Town and Country Magazine_ to-morrow." + +I had once come upon a copy of that publication, which reflected the +high life of England, perhaps too much on its scandalous side; and had +shown it to Margaret. Immediately she had got me to subscribe for it, +and to pass each number clandestinely to her. I, delighted to do her a +favour, and to have a secret with her, complied joyously; and obtained +for her as many novels and plays as I could, as well. + +Little I fancied what bee I thus helped to keep buzzing in her pretty +head, which she now carried with all the alternate imperiousness and +graciousness of confident and proven beauty. Little I divined of +feminine dreams of conquest in larger fields; or foresaw of dangerous +fruit to grow from seed planted with thoughtlessness. To my mind, +nothing of harm or evil could ensue from anything done, or thought, in +our happy little group. To my eyes, the future could be only radiant +and triumphant. For I was still but a lad at heart, and to think as I +did, or to be thoughtless as I was, is the way of youth. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_How Philip and I Behaved as Rivals in Love._ + + +I was always impatient, and restless to settle uncertainties. One fine +morning in the Spring of 1773, Philip and I were breaking the Sabbath +by practising with the foils in our back garden. Spite of all the +lessons I had taken from an English fencing-master in the town, Phil +was still my superior in the gentlemanly art. After a bout, on this +sunshiny morning, we rested upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a +world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms +were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was +full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that +was in my mind came out. + +"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil--though 'tis none of my +business,--" + +"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know." + +"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you--any agreement or +understanding, I mean?" + +Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly. + +"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise +between her and you, either." + +"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves +about--Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pass, each +waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and +carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold." + +"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil. + +"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl +in town." + +"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all, +even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on +a step further than the rest." + +"Ay, but in time--she's eighteen now, you know." + +"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a +husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with, +and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret +accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van +Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or +Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them." + +"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men +couldn't see anything in." + +"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they +make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret +has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of +herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish +fop, or any of these that hang about her." + +'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered +men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and +unworthy. + +"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society." + +"But," said I, dubiously, "if none of them has a chance, how is it +with us?" + +"Why, 'tis well-proved that she doesn't tire of us. For years and +years, she has had us about her every day, and has been content with +our society. That shows she could endure us to be always near her." + +It was true, indeed. And I should explain here that, as things were in +America then, and with Mr. Faringfield and Margaret, neither of us was +entirely ineligible to the hand of so rich and important a man's +daughter; although the town would not have likened our chances to +those of a De Lancey, a Livingstone, or a Philipse. I ought to have +said before, that Philip was now of promising fortune. He had risen in +the employ of Mr. Faringfield, but, more than that, he had invested +some years' savings in one of that merchant's shipping ventures, and +had reinvested the profits, always upon his benefactor's advice, until +now his independence was a certain thing. If he indeed tried +architecture and it failed him as a means of livelihood, he might at +any time fall back upon his means and his experience as a merchant +adventurer. As for me, I also was a beneficiary of Mr. Faringfield's +mercantile transactions by sea, my mother, at his hint, having drawn +out some money from the English funds, and risked it with him. +Furthermore, I had obtained a subordinate post in the customs office, +with a promise of sometime succeeding to my father's old place, and +the certainty of remaining in his Majesty's service during good +behaviour. This meant for life, for I had now learned how to govern my +conduct, having schooled myself, for the sake of my mother's peace of +mind, to keep out of trouble, often against my natural impulses. Thus +both Phil and I might aspire to Margaret; and, moreover, 'twas like +that her father would provide well for her if she found a husband to +his approval. It did not then occur to me that my employment in the +English service might be against me in Mr. Faringfield's eyes. + +"Then," said I, reaching the main point at last, "as you think we are +endurable to her--which of us shall it be?" + +"Why, that question is for her to settle," said Phil, with a smile +half-amused, half-surprised. + +"But she will have to be asked. So which of us--?" + +"I don't think it matters," he replied. "If she prefers one of us, she +will take him and refuse the other, whether he ask first or last." + +"But suppose she likes us equally. In that case, might not the first +asker win, merely for his being first?" + +"I think it scarce possible but that in her heart she must favour one +above all others, though she may not know it yet." + +"But it seems to me--" + +"'Faith, Bert, do as you like, I sha'n't say nay, or think nay. If you +ask her, and she accepts you, I shall be sure you are the choice of +her heart. But as for me, I have often thought of the matter, and this +is what I've come to: not to speak to her of it, until by some hint or +act she shows her preference." + +"But the lady must not make the first step." + +"Not by proposal or direct word, of course--though I'll wager there +have been exceptions to that; but I've read, and believe from what +I've seen, that 'tis oftenest the lady that gives the first hint. No +doubt, she has already made sure of the gentleman's feelings, by signs +he doesn't know of. If a man didn't receive some leading on from a +woman, how would he dare tell her his mind?--for if he loves her he +must dread her refusal, or scorn, beyond all things. However that be, +I've seen, in companies, and at the play, and even in church, how +girls contrive to show their partiality to the fellows they prefer. +Why, we've both had it happen to us, when we were too young for the +fancy to last. And 'tis the same, I'll wager, when the girls are +women, and the stronger feeling has come, the kind that lasts. Be sure +a girl as clever as Margaret will find a way of showing it, if she has +set her mind on either of us. And so, I'm resolved to wait for some +sign from her before I speak." + +He went on to explain that this course would prolong, to the +unfortunate one, the possession of the pleasures of hope. It would +save him, and Margaret, from the very unpleasant incident of a +rejection. Such a refusal must always leave behind it a certain +bitterness in the memory, that will touch what friendship remains +between the two people concerned. And I know Philip's wish that, +though he might not be her choice, his old friendship with her might +continue perfectly unmarred, was what influenced him to avoid a +possible scene of refusal. + +"Then I shall do as you do," said I, "and if I see any sign, either in +my favour or yours, be sure I'll tell you." + +"I was just about to propose that," said Phil; and we resumed our +fencing. + +There was, in our plan, nothing to hinder either of us from putting +his best foot forward, as the saying is, and making himself as +agreeable to the young lady as he could. Indeed that was the quickest +way to call forth the indication how her affections stood. I don't +think Phil took any pains to appear in a better light than usual. It +was his habit to be always himself, sincere, gentle, considerate, and +never thrusting forward. He had acquired with his growth a playful +humour with which to trim his conversation, but which never went to +tiresome lengths. This was all the more taking for his quiet manner, +which held one where noise and effort failed. But I exerted myself to +be mighty gallant, and to show my admiration and wit in every +opportune way. + +I considered that Phil and I were evenly matched in the rivalry; for +when a young fellow loves a girl, be she ever so divine, and though he +feel in his heart that she is too good for him, yet he will believe it +is in him to win her grace. If he think his self-known attractions +will not suffice, he will trust to some possible hidden merits, +unperceived by himself and the world, but which will manifest +themselves to her sight in a magical manner vouchsafed to lovers. Or +at worst, if he admit himself to be mean and unlikely, he will put +reliance upon woman's caprice, which, as we all know, often makes +strange selections. As for me, I took myself to be quite a conquering +fellow. + +In looks, 'twas my opinion that Philip and I were equally gifted. Phil +was of a graceful, slender figure; within an inch of six feet, I +should say; with a longish face, narrowing from the forehead downward, +very distinctly outlined, the nose a little curved, the mouth still as +delicate as a boy's. Indeed he always retained something boyish in his +look, for all his studiousness and thoughtfulness, and all that came +later. He was not as pale as in boyhood, the sea breezes that swept in +from the bay, past the wharves, having given him some ruddiness. His +eyes, I have said, were blue, almost of a colour with Margaret's. I +was an inch or two shorter than Phil, my build was more heavy and +full, my face more of an equal width, my nose a little upturned so as +to give me an impudent look, my eyes a darkish brown. + +That I was not Phil's match in sense, learning, talents, self-command, +and modesty, did not occur to me as lessening my chances with a woman. +If I lacked real wit, I had pertness; and I thought I had a manner of +dashing boldness, that must do one-half the business with any girl, +while my converse trick of softening my voice and eyes to her on +occasion, would do the other half. + +But Margaret took her time before giving a hint of her heart's +condition. She was the same old comrade to us, she confided to us her +adverse opinions of other people, laughed with us, and often at us +(when it was like as not that she herself had made us ridiculous), +told us her little secrets, let us share her gaiety and her dejection +alike, teased us, soothed us, made us serve her, and played the +spoiled beauty with us to the full of the part. And a beauty she was, +indeed; ten times more than in her childhood. The bud was approaching +its full bloom. She was of the average tallness; slender at neck, +waist, wrist, and ankle, but filling out well in the figure, which had +such curves as I swear I never saw elsewhere upon earth. She had the +smallest foot, with the highest instep; such as one gets not often an +idea of in England. Her little head, with its ripples of chestnut +hair, sat like that of a princess; and her face, oval in shape, proud +and soft by turns in expression--I have no way of conveying the +impression it gave one, but to say that it made me think of a nosegay +of fresh, flawless roses, white and red. Often, by candle-light, +especially if she were dressed for a ball, or sat at the play, I would +liken her to some animate gem, without the hardness that belongs to +real precious stones; for indeed she shone like a jewel, thanks to the +lustre of her eyes in artificial light. Whether from humidity or some +quality of their substance, I do not know, but they reflected the rays +as I have rarely seen eyes do; and in their luminosity her whole face +seemed to have part, so that her presence had an effect of warm +brilliancy that lured and dazzled you. To see her emerge from the +darkness of the Faringfield coach, or from her sedan-chair, into the +bright light of open doorways and of lanterns held by servants, was to +hold your breath and stand with lips parted in admiration, until she +made you feel your nothingness by a haughty indifference in passing, +or sent you glowing to the seventh heaven by a radiant smile. + +While we were waiting for the heart of our paragon to reveal itself, +life in Queen Street was diversified, in the Fall of 1773, by an +unexpected visit. + +Mr. Faringfield and Philip, as they entered the dining-room one +evening after their return from the warehouse, observed that an +additional place had been made at the table. Without speaking, the +merchant looked inquiringly, and with a little of apprehension, at his +lady. + +"Ned has come back," she answered, trying to speak as if this were +quite cheerful news. + +Mr. Faringfield's face darkened. Then, with some sarcasm, he said: + +"He did not go out of his way to stop at the warehouse in coming from +the landing." + +"Why, no doubt the ship did not anchor near our wharf. He came by the +_Sophy_ brig. He took some tea, and changed his clothes, and went out +to meet a fellow passenger at the coffee-house. They had some business +together." + +"Business with a pack of cards, I make no doubt; or else with rum or +madeira." + +'Twas the second of these conjectures that turned out right. For Mr. +Edward did not come home in time to occupy at supper the place that +had been set for him. When he did appear, he said he had already +eaten. Perhaps it was to strengthen his courage for meeting his +father, that he had imbibed to the stage wherein he vilely smelt of +spirits and his eyes and face were flushed. He was certainly bold +enough when he received his father's cold greeting in the parlour, +about nine o'clock at night. + +"And, pray, what circumstance gives us the honour of this visit?" +asked Mr. Faringfield, not dissembling his disgust. + +"Why," says Mr. Ned, quite undaunted, and dropping his burly form into +an armchair with an air of being perfectly at home, "to tell the +truth, 'tis a hole, the place you sent me to; a very hell-hole." + +"By what arrangement with Mr. Culverson did you leave it?" Mr. +Culverson was the Barbadoes merchant by whom Edward had been employed. + +"Culverson!" echoed Ned, with a grin. "I doubt there was little love +lost between me and Culverson! 'Culverson,' says I, 'the place is a +hole, and the next vessel bound for New York, I go on her.' 'And a +damned good riddance!' says Culverson (begging your pardon! I'm only +quoting what the man said), and that was the only arrangement I +remember of." + +"And so that you are here, what now?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, +looking as if he appreciated Mr. Culverson's sentiments. + +"Why, sir, as for that, I think 'tis for you to say." + +"Indeed, sir?" + +"Yes, sir, seeing that I'm your son, whom you're bound to provide +for." + +"You are twenty-two, I think," says Mr. Faringfield. + +"I take it, a few paltry years more or less don't alter my rights, or +the responsibilities of a parent. Don't think, sir, I shall stand up +and quietly see myself robbed of my birthright. I'm no longer the man +to play the Esek, or Esock, or whatever--" + +"Esau," prompted Fanny, in a whisper. + +"And my mouth isn't to be stopped by any mess of porridge." + +"Pottage," corrected Fanny. + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, rising, and holding himself very +stiffly, "I'll think upon it." Whereupon he went into the library, and +closed the door after him. + +'Tis certain that he had both the strength and the inclination to +chastise his son for these insulting rum-incited speeches, and to cast +him out to shift for his own future; instead of enduring heedlessly +the former, and offering to consider the latter. His strength was +equal to his pride, and he was no colder without than he was +passionate within. But there was one thing his strength of mind fell +short of facing, and that was the disgrace to the family, which the +eldest son might bring were he turned looser, unprovided for, in New +York. 'Twas the fear of such disgrace that always led Mr. Faringfield +to send Ned far away; and made him avoid any scene of violence which +the youth, now that he was a man and grown bold, might precipitate in +discussions such as the father had but now cut short. + +"Now I call that frigid," complained Edward to his mother, staring at +the door behind which Mr. Faringfield had disappeared. "Here was I, in +for a pleasant confab with my father, concerning my future; and before +I can put in a word, out he flings, and there's an end of it. 'Tisn't +fatherly, I protest! Well, well, I might have known! He was always +stony-hearted; never would discuss matters. That's the gratitude I get +for putting the case to him in a reasonable, docile, filial fashion. +However, he said he'd think upon it. That means I shall stay here, and +take a holiday, till he makes up his mind where to ship me to next. +'Twon't be England, I fancy, mother. I wouldn't object to France, +egad! I could learn to eat frogs as soon as another man, if it came to +that. Well, I need a holiday, after working so hard in that cursed +devil's paradise I've just come from. I suppose I can depend on you +for a little pocket-money, ma'am, till dad comes to a conclusion?" + +During the next fortnight, as he passed most of his time in the +taverns and the coffee-house, save when he attended horse-races on +Long Island, or chased foxes upon Tom's horse, or lent the honour of +his presence to cock-fights; Mr. Edward found his mother's resources +inadequate to his demands, and so levied tribute not only upon Fanny +and Tom but also upon Mr. Cornelius, who still abode in the +Faringfield house, and upon Philip Winwood. To Phil his manner was +more than civil; 'twas most conciliating and flattering, in a +pleasantly jocular way. + +Ere Mr. Faringfield had announced his mind, the visitor had worn out +his welcome in most of his tavern haunts, and become correspondingly +tired of New York. One evening, as Philip was leaving the warehouse, a +negro boy handed him a note, in which Mr. Ned begged him to come +immediately, on a matter of importance, to the King's Arms tavern. +There he found Edward seated at a small table in a corner of the +tap-room. Ned would have it that Phil should send home his excuses, by +the negro, and sup at the tavern; which, for the sake of peace, though +unwillingly, Philip finally consented to do. + +Edward was drinking rum, in a kind of hot punch of his own mixing. +Phil, though fond of madeira at home, now contented himself with ale; +and the two were soon at work upon a fried chicken prepared in the +Maryland fashion. + +"You know, Phil," says Ned at last, having talked in a lively strain +upon a multitude of matters, none of which Philip perceived to be +important, "'fore gad, I always liked you! Tis so, as the Lord's my +judge. Nay, you think I took a damned odd way of showing it. But we're +not all alike. Now look you! Hearken unto me, as the parson says. I +can say a good word for you in a certain ear." + +"Whose?" queried Phil, wondering in what ear he needed a good word +said. + +"Whose, eh? Now whose would it be? Come, come, I'll speak to the +point. I'm no man for palaver. 'Tis an ear you've whispered more than +one sweet thing into, I'll warrant. You're young, Philip, young: you +think you can fall in love and nobody find it out. Why, I hadn't been +landed two hours, and asked the news, when I was told that you and +Bert Russell were over ears in love with my sister." + +Phil merely looked his astonishment. + +"Now, sir, you mayn't think it," says Mr. Ned, "but my word has some +weight with Fanny." + +"Fanny?" echoed Philip. "What has she to do with it?" + +"Why, everything, I fancy. The lady usually has--" + +"But Fanny isn't the lady." + +"What? Then who the devil is?" + +"I don't think 'tis a matter need be talked of now," said Phil. + +"But I'd like to know--'gad, it can't be the other sister! Madge--that +spitfire! Well, well! Your face speaks, if your tongue won't. Who'd +have thought any man would go soft over such a vixen? Well, I can't +help you there, my lad!" + +"I haven't asked your help," says Phil with a smile. + +"Now, it's a pity," says Ned, dolefully, "for I thought by doing you a +good turn I might get you to do me another." + +"Oh, I see! Why, then, as for my doing you a good turn if it's +possible, speak out. What is it?" + +"Now, I call that noble of you, Phil; damned noble! I do need a good +turn, and that's a fact. You see I didn't tell my father exactly the +truth as to my leaving the Barbadoes. Not that I don't scorn a lie, +but I was considerate of the old gentleman's feelings. I couldn't +endure to shock him in his tenderest place. You understand?" + +"I probably shall when you've finished." + +"Why, I dare say you know what the old man's tenderest place is. Well, +if you won't answer, 'tis his pride in the family name, the spotless +name of Faringfield! Oh, I've worked upon that more than once, I tell +you. The old gentleman will do much to keep the name without a +blemish; I could always bring him to terms by threatening to disgrace +it--" + +"What a rascal you've been, then!" + +"Why, maybe so; we're not all saints. But I've always kept my word +with father, and whenever he gave me the money I wanted, or set me up +in life again, I kept the name clean--comparatively clean, that is to +say, as far as any one in New York might know. And even this time--at +the Barbadoes--'twasn't with any purpose of punishing father, I vow; +'twas for my necessities, I made myself free with a thousand pounds of +Culverson's." + +"The devil! Do you mean you embezzled a thousand pounds?" + +"One cool, clean thousand! My necessities, I tell you. There was a +debt of honour, you must know; a damned unlucky run at the cards, and +the navy officer that won came with a brace of pistols and gave me two +days in which to pay. And then there was a lady--with a brat, confound +her!--to be sent to England, and looked after. You see, 'twas honour +moved me in the first case, and chivalry in the second. As a +gentleman, I couldn't withstand the promptings of noble sentiments +like those." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Why, then I came away. And I hadn't the heart to break the truth to +father, knowing how 'twould cut him up. I thought of the old +gentleman's family pride, his gray hairs--his hair _is_ gray by this +time, isn't it?--" + +"And what is it you wish me to do?" + +"Why, you see, Culverson hadn't yet found out how things were, when I +left. I pretended I was ill--and so I was, in a way. But he must have +found out by this time, and when he sends after me, by the next +vessel, I'm afraid poor father will have to undergo a severe +trial--you know his weakness for the honoured name of Faringfield." + +"By the Lord, Ned, this is worse than I should ever have thought of +you." + +"It _is_ a bit bad, isn't it? And I've been thinking what's to be +done--for father's sake, you know. If 'twere broken to him gently, at +once, as nobody but you can break it, why then, he might give me the +money to repay Culverson, and send me back to Barbadoes by the next +ship, and nothing need ever come out. I'm thoroughly penitent, so help +me, heaven, and quite willing to go back." + +"And incur other debts of honour, and obligations of chivalry," says +Phil. + +"I'll see the cards in hell first, and the women too, by gad!" whereat +Mr. Edward brought his fist down upon the table most convincingly. + +He thought it best to spend that night at the tavern; whither Phil +went in the morning with news of Mr. Faringfield's reception of the +disclosure. The merchant had listened with a countenance as cold as a +statue's, but had promptly determined to make good the thousand pounds +to Mr. Culverson, and that Ned should return to the Barbadoes without +the formality of bidding the family farewell. But the money was to be +entrusted not to Mr. Edward, but to Mr. Faringfield's old clerk, +Palmer, who was to be the young man's travelling companion on the +Southward voyage. At word of this last arrangement, Edward showed +himself a little put out, which he told Phil was on account of his +father's apparent lack of confidence. But he meditated awhile, and +took on a more cheerful face. + +It happened--and, as it afterward came out, his previous knowledge of +this had suggested the trick he played upon Phil and Mr. +Faringfield--that, the same day on which the next Barbadoes-bound +vessel sailed, a brig left port for England. Both vessels availed +themselves of the same tide and wind, and so went down the bay +together. + +On the Barbadoes vessel, Ned and Mr. Palmer were to share the same +cabin; and thither, ere the ship was well out of the East River, the +old clerk accompanied Ned for the purpose of imbibing a beverage which +the young gentleman protested was an unfailing preventive of +sea-sickness, if taken in time. Once in the cabin, and the door being +closed, Mr. Ned adroitly knocked Palmer down with a blow from behind; +gagged, bound, and robbed him of the money, and left him to his +devices. Returning to the deck, he induced the captain to put him, by +boat, aboard the brig bound for England, which was still close at +hand. Taking different courses, upon leaving the lower bay, the two +vessels were soon out of hail, and that before the discovery of the +much puzzled Palmer's condition in his cabin. + +The poor old man had to go to the Barbadoes, and come back again, +before a word of this event reached the ears of Mr. Faringfield. When +Palmer returned with his account of it, he brought word from Mr. +Culverson that, although Ned had indeed settled a gambling debt at the +pistol's point, and had indeed paid the passage of a woman and child +to England, his theft had been of less than a hundred pounds. Thus it +was made manifest that Ned had lied to Philip in order to play upon +his father's solicitude concerning the name of Faringfield for +integrity, and so get into his hands the means of embarking upon the +pleasures of the Old World. Very foolish did poor Philip look when he +learned how he had been duped. But Mr. Faringfield, I imagine, +consoled himself with the probability that New York had seen the last +of Mr. Edward. + +I think 'twas to let Mr. Faringfield recover first from the feelings +of this occasion, that Philip postponed so long the announcement of +his intention to go to England. Thus far he had confided his plans to +me alone, and as a secret. But now he was past twenty-one years, and +his resolution could not much longer be deferred. Nevertheless, not +until the next June--that of 1774--did he screw up his courage to the +point of action. + +"I shall tell him to-day," said Philip to me one Monday morning, as I +walked with him part of the way to the warehouses. "Pray heaven he +takes it not too ill." + +I did not see Phil at dinner-time; but in the afternoon, a little +before his usual home-coming hour, he came seeking me, with a very +relieved and happy face; and found me trimming a grape-vine in our +back garden, near the palings that separated our ground from Mr. +Faringfield's. On the Faringfield side of the fence, at this place, +grew bushes of snowball and rose. + +"How did he take it?" I asked, smiling to see Phil's eyes so bright. + +"Oh, very well. He made no objection; said he had not the right to +make any in my case. But he looked so upset for a moment, so +deserted--I suppose he was thinking how his own son had failed him, +and that now his beneficiary was turning from him--that I wavered. But +at that he was the same haughty, immovable man as ever, and I +remembered that each of us must live his own life; and so 'tis +settled." + +"Well," said I, with a little of envy at his prospect, and much of +sorrow at losing him, and some wonder about another matter, "I'm glad +for your sake, though you may imagine how I'll miss you. But how can +you go yet? 'Tis like leaving the field to me--as to _her_, you know." +I motioned with my head toward the Faringfield house. + +"Why," he replied, as we both sat down on the wooden bench, "as I +shall be gone years when I do go, Mr. Faringfield stipulated only that +I should remain with him here another year; and I was mighty glad he +did, or I should have had to make that offer. 'Twasn't that I was +anxious to be off so soon, that made me tell him I was going; 'twas +that in harbouring the intention, while he still relied upon my +remaining always with him, I seemed to be guilty of a kind of +treachery. As for--_her_, if she gives no indication within a year, +especially when she knows I'm going, why, 'twill be high time to leave +the field to you, I think." + +"She doesn't know yet?" + +"No; I came first to you. Her father isn't home yet." + +"Well, Phil, there's little for me to say. You know what my feelings +are. After all, we are to have you for a year, and then--well, I hope +you may become the greatest architect that ever lived!" + +"Why, now, 'tis strange; you remind me of my reason for going. Since +Mr. Faringfield gave me his sanction, I hadn't thought of that. I'm +afraid I've been something of a hypocrite. And yet I certainly thought +my desire to go was chiefly on account of my architectural studies; +and I certainly intend to pursue them, too. I must have deceived +myself a little, though, by dwelling on that reason as one that would +prevail with Mr. Faringfield; one that he could understand, and could +not fairly oppose. For, hearkee, all the way home, when I looked +forward to the future, the architectural part of it was not in my +head. I was thinking of the famous historic places I should see; the +places where great men have lived; the birthplace and grave of +Shakespeare; the palaces where great pageants and tragedies have been +enacted; the scenes of great battles; the abbey where so many poets +and kings and queens are buried; the Tower where such memorable dramas +have occurred; the castles that have stood since the days of chivalry; +and Oxford; and the green fields of England that poets have written +of, and the churchyard of Gray's Elegy; and all that kind of thing." + +[Illustration: "OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE SO +IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED."] + +"Ay, and something of the gay life of the present, I'll warrant," said +I, with a smile; "the playhouses, and the taverns, and the parks, and +Vauxhall, and the assembly-rooms; and all _that_ kind of thing." + +"Why, yes, 'tis true. And I wish you were to go with me." + +"Alas, I'm tied down here. Some day, perhaps--" + +"What are you two talking of?" The interruption came in a soft, clear, +musical voice, of which the instant effect was to make us both start +up, and turn toward the fence, with hastened hearts and smiling faces. + +Margaret stood erect, looking over the palings at us, backed by the +green and flowered bushes through which she and Fanny had moved +noiselessly toward the fence in quest of nosegays for the +supper-table. Fanny stood at her side, and both smiled, Margaret +archly, Fanny pleasantly. The two seemed of one race with the flowers +about them, though Margaret's radiant beauty far outshone the more +modest charms of her brown-eyed younger sister. The elder placed her +gathered flowers on the upper rail of the fence, and taking two roses, +one in each hand, held them out toward us. + +We grasped each his rose at the same time, and our motions, as we +touched our lips with them, were so in unison that Margaret laughed. + +"And what _were_ you talking of?" says she. + +"Is it a secret any longer?" I asked Philip. + +"No." + +"Then we were talking of Phil's going to England, to be a great +architect." + +"Going to England!" She looked as if she could not have rightly +understood. + +"Yes," said I, "in a year from now, to stay, the Lord knows how long." + +She turned white, then red; and had the strangest look. + +"Is it true?" she asked, after a moment, turning to Phil. + +"Yes. I am to go next June." + +"But father--does he know?" + +"I told him this afternoon. He is willing." + +"To be sure, to be sure," she said, thoughtfully. "He has no authority +over you. 'Tis different with us. Oh, Phil, if you could only take me +with you!" There was wistful longing and petulant complaint in the +speech. And then, as Phil answered, an idea seemed to come to her all +at once; and she to rise to it by its possibility, rather than to fall +back from its audacity. + +"I would gladly," said he; "but your father would never consent that a +Faringfield--" + +"Well, one need not always be a Faringfield," she replied, looking him +straight in the face, with a kind of challenge in her voice and eyes. + +"Why--perhaps not," said Phil, for the mere sake of agreeing, and +utterly at a loss as to her meaning. + +"You don't understand," says she. "A father's authority over his +daughter ceases one day." + +"Ay, no doubt," says Phil; "when she becomes of legal age. But even +then, without her father's consent--" + +"Why, now," she interrupted, "suppose her father's authority over her +passed to somebody else; somebody of her father's own preference; +somebody that her father already knew was going to England: could her +father forbid his taking her?" + +"But, 'tis impossible," replied mystified Phil. "To whom in the world +would your father pass his authority over you? He is hale and hearty; +there's not the least occasion for a guardian." + +"Why, fathers _do_, you know." + +"Upon my soul, I don't see--" + +"I vow you don't! You are the blindest fellow! Didn't Polly +Livingstone's father give up his authority over her the other day--to +Mr. Ludlow?" + +"Certainly, to her husband." + +"Well!" + +"Margaret--do you mean--? But you can't mean _that_?" Phil had not the +voice to say more, emerging so suddenly from the clouds of puzzlement +to the yet uncertain sunshine of joy. + +"Why shouldn't I mean that?" says she, with the prettiest laugh, which +made her bold behaviour seem the most natural, feminine act +imaginable. "Am I not good enough for you?" + +"Madge! You're not joking, are you?" He caught her hands, and gazed +with still dubious rapture at her across the fence. + +My sensations may easily be imagined. But by the time she had assured +him she was perfectly in earnest, I had taught myself to act the man; +and so I said, playfully: + +"Such a contract, though 'tis made before witnesses, surely ought to +be sealed." + +Philip took my hint; and he and Margaret laughed, and stretched arms +across the paling tops; and I lost sight of their faces. I sought +refuge in turning to Fanny, who was nearer to me than they were. To my +surprise, she was watching me with the most kindly, pitying face in +the world. Who would have thought she had known my heart regarding her +sister? + +"Poor Bert!" she murmured gently, scarce for my hearing. + +And I, who had felt very solitary the moment before, now seemed not +quite so lonely; and I continued to look into the soft, compassionate +eyes of Fanny, so steadily that in a moment, with the sweetest of +blushes, she lowered them to the roses in her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_We Hear Startling News, Which Brings about a Family "Scene"._ + + +I have characterised Margaret's behaviour in the matter of this +marriage proposal as forward; though I have admitted that it scarce +looked so, so graceful and womanlike was her manner of carrying it +off, which had in it nothing worse than the privileged air of a +spoiled beauty. Now that writing of it has set me thinking of it, I +see that 'twas a more natural act than it appears in the cold recital. +For years she had been our queen, and Phil and I her humble subjects, +and the making of the overtures appeared as proper in her, as it would +have seemed presumption in either of us. And over Phil, from that +bygone day when she had gone across the street to his rescue, she had +assumed an air of authority, nay of proprietorship, that bade him wait +upon her will ere ever he acted or spoke. And, again, though out of +consideration for his rival he had been purposely silent while +awaiting a sign from her, she had read his heart from the first. His +every look and tone for years had been an unconscious act of wooing, +and so when she brought matters to a point as she did, 'twas on her +part not so much an overture as a consent. As for marriage proposal in +general, all men with whom I have discussed it have confessed their +own scenes thereof to have been, in the mere words, quite simple and +unpoetical, whether enacted in confusion or in confidence; and to have +been such as would not read at all finely in books. + +The less easy ordeal awaited Philip, of asking her father. But he was +glad this stood yet in his way, and that 'twas not easy; for 'twould +make upon his courage that demand which every man's courage ought to +undergo in such an affair, and which Margaret's conduct had precluded +in his coming to an understanding with her. + +But however disquieting the task was to approach, it could be only +successful at the end; for indeed Mr. Faringfield, with all his +external frigidity, could refuse Phil nothing. In giving his consent, +which perhaps he had been ready to do long before Phil had been ready +to ask it, he made no allusion to Phil's going to England. He +purposely ignored the circumstance, I fancy, that in consenting to the +marriage, he knowingly opened the way for his daughter's visiting that +hated country. Doubtless the late conduct of Ned, and the intended +defection of Philip, amicable though that defection was, had shaken +him in his resolution of imposing his avoidance of England upon his +family. He resigned himself to the inevitable; but he grew more +taciturn, sank deeper into himself, became more icy in his manner, +than ever. + +Philip and Margaret were married in February, four months before the +time set for their departure. The wedding was solemnised in Trinity +Church, by the Rev. Mr. Barclay, on one of those white days with a +little snow in the air, which I for one prefer over sunny days, in +winter, as far more seasonable. The young gentlemen of the town +wondered that Miss Faringfield had not made a better match (as she +might have done, of course, in each one's secret opinion by choosing +himself). The young ladies, though some of them may have regretted the +subtraction of one eligible youth from their matrimonial chances, were +all of them rejoiced at the removal of a rival who had hitherto kept +the eyes of a score of youths, even more eligible, turned away from +them. And so they wished her well, with smiles the most genuine. She +valued not a finger-snap their thoughts or their congratulations. She +had, of late, imperceptibly moved aloof from them. Nor had she sought +the attentions of the young gentlemen. 'Twas not of her will that they +dangled. In truth she no longer had eyes or ears for the small +fashionable world of New York. She had a vastly greater world to +conquer, and disdained to trouble herself, by a smile or a glance, for +the admiration of the poor little world around her. + +All her thoughts in her first months of marriage--and these were very +pleasant months to Philip, so charming and sweet-tempered was his +bride--were of the anticipated residence in England. It was still +settled that Philip was to go in June; and her going with him was now +daily a subject of talk in the family. Mr. Faringfield himself +occasionally mentioned it; indifferently, as if 'twere a thing to +which he never would have objected. Margaret used sometimes to smile, +thinking how her father had put it out of his power to oppose her +wishes: first by his friendly sanction to Phil's going, to refuse +which he had not the right; and then by his consent to her marriage, +to refuse which he had not the will. + +Naturally Philip took pleasure in her anticipations, supposing that, +as to their source and object, they differed not from his. As the pair +were so soon to go abroad, 'twas thought unnecessary to set up in a +house of their own in New York, and so they made their home for the +time in the Faringfield mansion, the two large chambers over the great +parlour being allotted to them; while they continued to share the +family table, save that Margaret now had her morning chocolate abed. + +"I must initiate myself into London ways, dear," she said, gaily, when +Fanny remarked how strange this new habit was in a girl who had never +been indolent or given to late rising. + +"How pretty the blue brocaded satin is!" quoth Fanny, looking at one +of Margaret's new gowns hanging in a closet. "Why didn't you wear it +at the Watts' dinner yesterday? And your brown velvet--you've not had +it on since it came from the dressmaker's." + +"I shall wear them in London," says Margaret. + +And so it was with her in everything. She saved her finest clothes, +her smiles, her very interest in life, her capacity for enjoyment, all +for London. And Philip, perceiving her indifference to the outside +world, her new equability of temper, her uniform softness of +demeanour, her constant meditative half-smile due to pleasurable +dreams of the future, read all these as tokens of blissful content +like that which glowed in his own heart. And he was supremely happy. +'Tis well for a man to have two months of such happiness, to balance +against later years of sorrow; but sad will that happiness be in the +memory, if it owe itself to the person to whom the sorrow in its train +is due. + +She would watch for him at the window, in the afternoon, when he came +home from the warehouse; and would be waiting at the parlour door as +he entered the hall. With his arm about her, he would lead her to a +sofa, and they would sit talking for a few minutes before he prepared +for supper--for 'twas only on great occasions that the Faringfields +dined at five o'clock, as did certain wealthy New York families who +followed the London mode. + +"I am so perfectly, entirely, completely, utterly happy!" was the +burden of Phil's low-spoken words. + +"Fie!" said Margaret, playfully, one evening. "You must not be +perfectly happy. There must be some cloud in the sky; some annoyance +in business, or such trifle. Perfect happiness is dangerous, mamma +says. It can't last. It forbodes calamity to come. 'Tis an old belief, +and she vows 'tis true." + +"Why, my poor mother held that belief, too. I fear she had little +perfect happiness to test it by; but she had calamities enough. And +Bert Russell's mother was saying the same thing the other day. 'Tis a +delusion common to mothers, I think. I sha'n't let it affect my +felicity. I should be ungrateful to call my contentment less than +perfect. And if calamity comes, 'twill not be owing to my happiness." + +"As for that, I can't imagine any calamity possible to us--unless +something should occur to hinder us from going to London. But nothing +in the world shall do that, of course." + +'Twas upon this conversation that Tom and I broke in, having met as I +returned from the custom-house, he from the college. + +"Oho!" cried Tom, with teasing mirth, "still love-making! I tell you +what it is, brother Phil, 'tis time you two had eyes for something +else besides each other. The town is talking of how engrossed Margaret +is in you, that she ignores the existence of everybody else." + +"Let 'em talk," said Margaret, lightly, with an indifference free from +malice. "Who cares about their existence? They're not so interesting, +with their dull teas and stupid gossip of one another! A set of +tedious rustics." + +"Hear the countess talk!" Tom rattled on, at the same time looking +affectionate admiration out of his mirthful eyes. "What a high and +mighty lady is yours, my lord Philip! I should like to know what the +Morrises, and Lind Murray, and the Philipse boys and girls, and our De +Lancey cousins, and the rest, would think to hear themselves called a +set of rustics." + +"Why," says Phil, "beside her ladyship here, are they _not_ a set of +rustics?" With which he kissed her, and rose to go to his room. + +"_Merci_, monsieur!" said Margaret, rising and dropping him a curtsey, +with the prettiest of glances, as he left the parlour. + +She hummed a little French air, and went and ran her fingers up and +down the keys of the pianoforte, which great new instrument had +supplanted the old harpsichord in the house. Tom and I, standing at +the fireplace, watched her face as the candle-light fell upon it. + +"Well," quoth Tom, "Phil is no prouder of his wife than I am of my +sister. Don't you think she grows handsomer every day, Bert?" + +"'Tis the effect of happiness," said I, and then I looked into the +fireplace rather than at her. For I was then, and had been for long +months, engaged in the struggle of detaching my thoughts from her +charms, or, better, of accustoming myself to look upon them with +composure; and I had made such good success that I wished not to set +myself back in it. Eventually my success was complete, and I came to +feel toward her no more than the friendship of a lifelong comrade. If +a man be honest, and put forth his will, he can quench his love for +the woman that is lost to him, unless there have existed long the +closest, tenderest, purest ties between them; and even then, except +that 'twill revive again sometimes at the touch of an old memory. + +"You dear boys!" says Margaret, coming over to us, to reward Tom with +a kiss on the cheek, and me with a smile. "What a vain thing you will +make me of my looks!" + +"Nay," says candid Tom, "that work was done before ever we had the +chance of a hand in it." + +"Well," retorted Margaret, with good-humoured pertness, "there'll +never be reason for me to make my brother vain of his wit." + +"Nor for my sister to be vain of hers," said Tom, not in nettled +retaliation, but merely as uttering a truth. + +"You compliment me there," says Margaret, lightly. "Did you ever hear +of a witty woman that was charming?" + +"That is true," I put in, remembering some talk of Phil's, based upon +reading as well as upon observation, "for usually a woman must be +ugly, before she will take the trouble to cultivate wit. The +possession of wit in a woman seems to imply a lack of other reliances. +And if a woman be pretty and witty both, her arrogance is like to be +such as drives every man away. And men resent wit in a woman as if +'twere an invasion of their own province." + +"Sure your explanation must be true, Mr. Philosopher," said Margaret, +"'tis so profound. As for me, I seek no reasons; 'tis enough to know +that most witty women are frights; and I don't blame the men for +refusing to be charmed by 'em." + +"Well, sis," said Tom, "I'm sure even the cultivation of wit wouldn't +make you a fright. So you might amuse yourself by trying it, ma'am. As +for charming the men, you married ladies have no more to do with +that." + +"Oh, haven't we? Sure, I think 'tis time little boys were in bed, who +talk of things they know nothing about. Isn't that so, Bert?" + +"Why," said I, "for my part, I think 'tis unkind for a woman to +exercise her charms upon men after she has destroyed the possibility +of rewarding their devotion." + +"Dear me, you talk like a character in a novel. Well, then, you're +both agreed I mustn't be charming. So I'll be disagreeable, and begin +with you two. Here's a book of sermons Mr. Cornelius must have left. +That will help me, if anything will." And she sat down with the volume +in her hands, took on a solemn frown, and began to read to herself. +After awhile, at a giggle of amusement from schoolboy Tom, she turned +a rebuking gaze upon us, over the top of the book; but the very effort +to be severe emphasised the fact that her countenance was formed to +give only pleasure, and our looks brought back the smile to her eyes. + +"'Tis no use," said Tom, "you couldn't help being charming if you +tried." + +She threw down the book, and came and put her arm around him, and so +we all three stood before the fire till Philip returned. + +"Ah," she said, "here is one who will never ask me to be ugly or +unpleasant." + +"Who has been asking impossibilities, my dear?" inquired Philip, +taking her offered hand in his. + +"These wise gentlemen think I oughtn't to be charming, now that I'm +married." + +"Then they think you oughtn't to be yourself; and I disagree with 'em +entirely." + +She gave him her other hand also, and stood for a short while looking +into his innocent, fond eyes. + +"You dear old Phil!" she said slowly, in a low voice, falling for the +moment into a tender gravity, and her eyes having a more than wonted +softness. The next instant, recovering her light playfulness with a +little laugh, she took his arm and led the way to the dining-room. + +And now came Spring--the Spring of 1775. There had been, of course, +for years past, and increasing daily in recent months, talk of the +disagreement between the king and the colonies. I have purposely +deferred mention of this subject, to the time when it was to fall upon +us in its full force so that no one could ignore it or avoid action +with regard to it. But I now reach the beginning of the drama which is +the matter of this history, and to which all I have written is +uneventful prologue. We young people of the Faringfield house (for I +was still as much of that house as of my own) had concerned ourselves +little with the news from London and Boston, of the concentration of +British troops in the latter town in consequence of the increased +disaffection upon the closing of its port. We heeded little the fact +that the colonies meant to convene another general congress at +Philadelphia, or that certain colonial assemblies had done thus and +so, and certain local committees decided upon this or that. 'Twould +all blow over, of course, as the Stamp Act trouble had done; the +seditious class in Boston would soon be overawed, and the king would +then concede, of his gracious will, what the malcontents had failed to +obtain by their violent demands. Such a thing as actual rebellion, +real war, was to us simply inconceivable. I believe now that Philip +had earlier and deeper thoughts on the subject than I had: indeed +events showed that he must have had: but he kept them to himself. And +far other and lighter subjects occupied our minds as he and I started +for a walk out the Bowery lane one balmy Sunday morning in April, the +twenty-third day of the month. + +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, Fanny, and Tom, had gone to church. Philip +and I boasted of too much philosophical reading to be churchgoers, and +I had let my mother walk off to Trinity with a neighbour. As for +Margaret, she stayed home because she was now her own mistress and had +a novel to read, out of the last parcel received from London. We left +her on the rear veranda, amidst the honeysuckle vines that climbed the +trellis-work. + +"I've been counting the weeks," she said to Phil, as we were about to +set forth. "Only seven more Sundays." And she stopped him to adjust +the ribbon of his queue more to her taste. "Aren't you glad?" + +"Yes; and a thousand times so because it makes you happy, my dear," +said he. + +She kissed him, and let him go. "Don't walk too far, dear!" she called +after us. + +We looked back from the gateway, and saw that she had come to the end +of the veranda to see us from the garden. We doffed our hats, and Phil +threw her a kiss; which she returned, and then waved her hand after +us, softly smiling. Philip lingered a moment, smiling back, to get +this last view of her ere he closed the gate. + +We had just passed the common, at the Northern end of the town, when +we heard a clatter of galloping hoofs in the Bowery lane before us. +Looking up the vista of road shaded by trees in fresh leafage, we saw +a rider coming toward us at a very severe pace. As he approached, the +horse stumbled; and the man on its back, fearing it might sink from +exhaustion, drew up and gave it a moment in which to recover itself. +He evidently wished to make a decent entrance into the town. He was in +a great panting and perspiration, like his trembling steed, which was +covered with foam; and his clothes were disturbed and soiled with +travel. He took off his cocked felt hat to fan himself. + +"You ride fast, for Sunday, friend," said Phil pleasantly. "Any +trouble?" + +"Trouble for some folks, I guess," was the reply, spoken with a Yankee +drawl and twang. "I'm bringing news from Massachusetts." He slapped +the great pocket of his plain coat, calling attention to its +well-filled condition as with square papers. "Letters from the +Committee of Safety." + +"Why, has anything happened at Boston?" asked Phil, quickly. + +"Well, no, not just at Boston. But out Concord way, and at Lexington, +and on the road back to Boston, I should reckon a few things _had_ +happened." And then, leaving off his exasperating drawl, he very +speedily related the terrible occurrence of the nineteenth of +April--terrible because 'twas warlike bloodshed in a peaceful land, +between the king's soldiers and the king's subjects, between men of +the same race and speech, men of the same mother country; and because +of what was to follow in its train. I remember how easily and soon the +tale was told; how clearly the man's calm voice, though scarce raised +above a usual speaking tone, stood out against the Sunday morning +stillness, with no sound else but the twittering of birds in the trees +near by. + +"Get up!" said the messenger, not waiting for our thanks or comments; +and so galloped into the town, leaving us to stare after him and then +at each other. + +"'Faith, this will make the colonies stand together," said Philip at +last. + +"Ay," said I, "against the rebellious party." + +"No," quoth he, "when I say the colonies, I mean what you call the +rebellious party in them." + +"Why, 'tis not the majority, and therefore it can't be said to +represent the colonies." + +"I beg your pardon--I think we shall find it is the majority, +particularly outside of the large towns. This news will fly to every +corner of the land as fast as horses can carry it, and put the country +folk in readiness for whatever the Continental Congress may decide +upon." + +"Why, then, 'twill put our people on their guard, too, for whatever +the rebels may attempt." + +Philip's answer to this brought about some dispute as to whether the +name rebels, in its ordinary sense, could properly be applied to those +colonists who had what he termed grievances. We both showed heat, I +the more, until he, rather than quarrel, fell into silence. We had +turned back into the town; choosing a roundabout way for home, that we +might observe the effect of the messenger's news upon the citizens. In +a few streets the narrow footways were thronged with people in their +churchgoing clothes, and many of these had already gathered into +startled groups, where the rider who came in such un-Sabbath-like +haste had stopped to justify himself, and satisfy the curiosity of +observers, and ask the whereabouts of certain gentlemen of the +provincial assembly, to whom he had letters. We heard details +repeated, and opinions uttered guardedly, and grave concern everywhere +expressed. + +By the time we had reached home, Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield were already +there, discussing the news with my mother, in the presence of the two +daughters and Tom. We found them all in the parlour. Margaret stood in +the library doorway, still holding her novel in her hand, her finger +keeping the page. Her face showed but a languid interest in the +tragedy which made all the others look so grave. + +"You've heard the news, of course?" said Mr. Faringfield to us as we +entered, curiously searching Philip's face while he spoke. + +"Yes, sir; we were the first in the town to hear it, I think," replied +Phil. + +"Tis a miracle if we do not have war," said Mr. Faringfield. + +"I pray not," says my mother, who was a little less terrified than +Mrs. Faringfield. "And I won't believe we shall, till I see it at our +doors." + +"Oh, don't speak of it!" cried Mrs. Faringfield, with a shudder. + +"Why, ladies," says Philip, "'tis best to think of it as if 'twere +surely coming, and so accustom the mind to endure its horrors. I shall +teach my wife to do so." And he looked playfully over at Margaret. + +"Why, what is it to me?" said Margaret. "Tis not like to come before +we sail, and in England we shall be well out of it. Sure you don't +think the rebels will cross the ocean and attack London?" + +"Why, if war comes," said Phil, quietly, "we shall have to postpone +our sailing." + +"Postpone it!" she cried, in alarm. "Why? And how long?" + +"Until the matter is settled one way or another." + +"But it won't come before we sail. 'Tis only seven weeks. Whatever +happens, they'll riddle away that much time first, in talk and +preparation; they always do." + +"But we must wait, my dear, till the question is decided whether +there's to be war or peace. If we come round to the certainty of +peace, which is doubtful, then of course there's naught to hinder us. +But if there's war, why, we've no choice but to see it out before we +leave the country." + +I never elsewhere saw such utter, indignant consternation as came over +Margaret's face. + +"But why? For what reason?" she cried. "Will not vessels sail, as +usual? Are you afraid we shall be harmed on the sea? 'Tis ridiculous! +The rebels have no war-ships. Why need we stay? What have we to do +with these troubles? 'Tis not our business to put them down. The king +has soldiers enough." + +"Ay," said Phil, surprised at her vehemence, but speaking the more +quietly for that, "'tis the colonies will need soldiers." + +"Then what folly are you talking? Why should we stay for this war." + +"That I may take my part in it, my dear." + +"Bravo, brother Phil!" cried Tom Faringfield. "You nor I sha'n't miss +a chance to fight for the king!" + +"Nor I, either," I added. + +"'Tis not for the king, that I shall be fighting," said Phil, simply. + +A silence of astonishment fell on the company. 'Twas broken by Mr. +Faringfield: + +"Bravo, Phil, say _I_ this time." And, losing no jot of his haughty +manner, he went over, and with one hand grasping Phil's, laid the +other approvingly on the young man's shoulder. + +"What, have we rebels in our own family?" cried Mrs. Faringfield, +whose horror at the fact gave her of a sudden the needful courage. + +"Madam, do your sentiments differ from mine?" asked her husband. + +"Sir, I am a De Lancey!" she replied, with a chilling haughtiness +almost equal to his own. + +Tom, buoyed by his feelings of loyalty above the fear of his father's +displeasure, crossed to his mother, and kissed her; and even Fanny had +the spirit to show defiantly on which side she stood, by nestling to +her mother's side and caressing her head. + +"Good, mamma!" cried Margaret. "No one shall make rebels of us! +Understand that, Mr. Philip Winwood!" + +Philip, though an ashen hue about the lips showed what was passing in +his heart, tried to take the bitterness from the situation by treating +it playfully. "You see, Mr. Faringfield, if we are indeed rebels +against our king, we are paid by our wives turning rebels against +ourselves." + +"You cannot make a joke of it, sir," said Margaret, with a menacing +coldness in her tone. "'Tis little need the king has of _my_ +influence, I fancy; he has armies to fight his battles. But there's +one thing does concern me, and that is my visit to London.--But you'll +not deprive me of that, dear, will you, now that you think of it +better?" Her voice had softened as she turned to pleading. + +"We must wait, my dear, while there is uncertainty or war." + +"But you haven't the right to make me wait!" she cried, her voice +warming to mingled rage, reproach, and threat. "Why, wars last for +years--I should be an old woman! You're not free to deny me this +pleasure, or postpone it an hour! You promised it from the first, you +encouraged my anticipations until I came to live upon them, you fed my +hopes till they dropped everything else in the world. Night and day I +have looked forward to it, thought of it, dreamt of it! And now you +say I must wait--months, at least; probably years! But you can't mean +it, Phil! You wouldn't be so cruel! Tell me!" + +"I mean no cruelty, dear. But one has no choice when patriotism +dictates--when one's country--" + +"Why, you sha'n't treat me so, disappoint me so! 'Twould be breaking +your word; 'twould be a cruel betrayal, no less; 'twould make all your +conduct since our marriage--nay, since that very day we promised +marriage--a deception, a treachery, a lie; winning a woman's hand and +keeping her love, upon a false pretence! You _dare_ not turn back on +your word now! If you are a man of honour, of truth, of common +honesty, you will let this miserable war go hang, and take me to +England, as you promised! And if you don't I'll hate you!--hate you!" + +Her speech had come out in a torrent of increasing force, until her +voice was almost a scream, and this violence had its climax in a +hysterical outburst of weeping, as she sank upon a chair and hid her +face upon the back thereof. In this attitude she remained, her body +shaking with sobs. + +Philip, moved as a man rarely is, hastened to her, and leaning over, +essayed to take her hand. + +"But you should understand, dear," said he, most tenderly, with what +voice he could command. "God knows I would do anything to make you +happy, but--" + +"Then," she said tearfully, resigning her hand to his, "don't bring +this disappointment upon me. Let them make war, if they please; you +have your wife to consider, and your own future. Whatever they fight +about, 'tis nothing to you, compared with your duty to me." + +"But you don't understand," was all he could reply. "If I could +explain--" + +"Oh, Phil, dear," she said, adopting again a tender, supplicating +tone. "You'll not rob me of what I've so joyously looked forward to, +will you? Think, how I've set my heart on it! Why, we've looked +forward to it together, haven't we? All our happiness has been bound +up with our anticipations. Don't speak of understanding or +explaining,--only remember that our first thought should be of each +other's happiness, dear, and that you will ruin mine if you don't take +me. For my sake, for my love, promise we shall go to England in June! +I beg you--'tis the one favour--I will love you so! Do, Phil! We shall +be so happy!" + +She looked up at him with such an eager pleading through her tears +that I did not wonder to see his own eyes moisten. + +"My dear," said he, with an unsteady voice, "I can't. I shouldn't be a +man if I left the country at this time. I should loathe myself; I +should not be worthy of you." + +She flung his hand away from her, and rose in another seizure of +wrath. + +"Worthy!" she cried. "What man is worthy of a woman, when he cheats +her as you have cheated me! You are a fool, with your talk of loathing +yourself if you left the country! In God's name, what could there be +in that to make you loathe yourself? What claim has the country on +you, equal to the claim your wife has? Better loathe yourself for your +false treatment of her! You'd loathe yourself, indeed! Well, then, I +tell you this, 'tis I that will loathe you, if you stay! I shall +abominate you, I shall not let you come into my sight! Now, sir, take +your choice, this instant. Keep your promise with me--" + +"'Twas not exactly a promise, my dear." + +"I say, keep it, and take me to London, and keep my love and respect; +or break your promise, and my heart, and take my hate and contempt. +Choose, I say! Which? This instant! Speak!" + +"Madge, dear, you are not yourself--" + +"Oh, but I am, though! More myself than ever! And my own mistress, +too! Speak, I bid you! Tell me we shall go. Answer--will you do as +your wife wishes?" + +"I will do as your husband ought." + +"Will you go to England?" + +"I will stay till I know the fate of the colonies; and to fight for +them if need be." + +"You give me up, for the sake of a whim, of some silly fustian about +patriotism, some fool's rubbish of high-sounding words! _Me_, you +balance against a crazy notion! Very well, sir! How I shall hate you +for it! Don't come near me--not a step! Cling to your notion; see if +it will fill my place! From this moment, you're not my husband, I'm +not your wife--unless you promise we shall sail in June! And don't +dare speak to me, except to tell me that!" + +Whereupon, paying no heed to his reproachful cry of "Madge," she swept +past him, and across the parlour, and up the hall staircase to her +room; leaving us all in the amazement which had held us motionless and +silent throughout the scene. + +Philip stood with his hand upon the chair-back where she had wept; +pale and silent, the picture of abandonment and sorrow. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_Ned Comes Back, with an Interesting Tale of a Fortunate Irishman._ + + +Before any of us knew what to say, a soft tread in the library +announced the approach of Mr. Cornelius. He entered unaware of the +scene that had just terminated, and with the stormy character of which +on Margaret's part, nothing could have been in greater contrast than +the quiescent atmosphere that ever accompanied the shy, low-speaking +pedagogue. His presence diffused peace and quietude; and more than +formerly was this the case of late, since he had resumed an intention +of entering the Presbyterian ministry. + +He had qualified himself for this profession at Princeton. But after +his full preparations, a conscientious scruple had arisen from a sense +of his diffidence, which he despaired of conquering, and by which he +believed his attempts at pulpit eloquence were sure to be defeated. +Though he could compass the hardihood to discourse to an assemblage of +distracting schoolboys several hours every week-day, he could not +summon the courage to address an audience of somnolent adults two +hours on Sunday. + +But latterly he had awakened to a new inward call, and resolved upon a +new trial of his powers. By way of preliminary training, he had set +about practising upon the sailors and wharfmen who ordinarily spent +their Sundays in gaming or boozing in low taverns along the +water-front. To as many of these as would gather in some open space, +at the sound of his voice raised tremulously in a hymn, he would +preach as a layman, thus borrowing from the Methodists a device by +which he hoped not only his present hearers, but also his own future +Presbyterian congregations, should benefit. It was from one of these +informal meetings, broken up by the news from Massachusetts, that he +was but now returned. + +The stupefaction in which we all sat, did not prevent our noting the +excitement in which Cornelius came; and Mr. Faringfield looked a mute +inquiry. + +"Your pardon, friends," said the pedagogue to the company; and then to +Mr. Faringfield: "If I might speak with you alone a moment, sir--" + +Mr. Faringfield went with him into the library, leaving us all under +new apprehension. + +"Dear bless me!" quoth Mrs. Faringfield, looking distressed. "More +calamity, I vow." + +In a moment we heard Mr. Faringfield's voice raised in a vehement "No, +sir!" Then the library door was reopened, and he returned to us, +followed by Cornelius, who was saying in his mildest voice: "But I +protest, sir--I entreat--he is a changed man, I assure you." + +"Changed for the worse, I make no doubt," returned the angry merchant. +"Let him not darken my door. If it weren't Sunday, I should send for a +constable this moment." + +"What is it?" cried Mrs. Faringfield. "Sure it can't be--that boy +again!" + +"Mr. Edward, madam," said the tutor. + +"Dear, dear, what a day! What a terrible day! And Sunday, too!" moaned +the lady, lying back in her chair, completely crushed, as if the last +blow of fate had fallen. + +"He arrived in the _Sarah_ brig, which anchored yesterday evening," +explained Mr. Cornelius, "but he didn't come ashore till this +morning." + +"He thought Sunday safer," said Mr. Faringfield, with scornful +derision. + +"I was returning from my service, when I met him," continued the +tutor. "He was at the Faringfield wharf, inquiring after the health of +the family, of Meadows the watchman. I--er--persuaded him to come home +with me." + +"You mean, sir, he persuaded you to come and intercede for him," said +Mr. Faringfield. + +"He is now waiting in the garden. I have been telling Mr. Faringfield, +ma'am, that the young man is greatly altered. Upon my word, he shows +the truest signs of penitence. I believe he is entirely reformed; he +says so." + +"You'd best let him come in, William," counselled Mrs. Faringfield. +"If you don't, goodness knows what he may do." + +"Madam, I resolved long ago to let the law do its utmost upon him, if +he should ever return." + +"Oh, but think what scandal! What will all my relations say? Besides, +if he is reformed--" + +"If he is reformed, let him show it by his conduct on my refusing to +take him back; and by suffering the penalty of his crime." + +"Oh!--penalty! Don't speak such words! A jailbird in the family! I +never could endure it! I shouldn't dare go to church, or be seen +anywhere in public!" + +"The same old discussion!" said Mr. Faringfield, with a wearied frown. + +"Papa, you won't send him to jail, will you?" ventured Fanny, with +eyes rapidly moistening, and lips turning to a pout in spite of +herself. + +"Really, sir," put in Cornelius, trembling at his own temerity, "if +you could but see him--take my word, sir, if ever there was a case +where forgiveness--" + +After much more of this sort of talk, and being shaken in will by the +day's previous excitements, Mr. Faringfield at length gave in so far +as to consent to an interview with the penitent, to whom thereupon +Cornelius hastened with the news. + +It was indeed a changed and chastened Ned, to all outward appearance, +that entered meekly with the pedagogue a few minutes later. His tread +was so soft, his demeanour so tame, that one would scarce have known +him but for a second look at his shapely face and burly figure. The +face was now somewhat hollowed out, darkened, lined, and blotched; and +elongated with meek resignation. His clothes--claret-coloured cloth +coat and breeches, flowered waistcoat, silk stockings, lace ruffles, +and all--were shabby and stained. He bowed to the company, and then +stood, furtively watching for some manifestation from the rest before +he dared proceed to warmer greetings. + +Fanny stepped softly forward and kissed him, in a shy, perfunctory +manner; and then good-natured Tom shook his hand, and Philip followed +suit; after which Mrs. Faringfield embraced him somewhat stiffly, and +I gingerly held his fingers a moment, and my mother hoped he found +himself well. + +"Quite well, I thank you, considering," said he; and then gazed in a +half-scared way at his father. All the old defiance had disappeared +under the blows of adversity. + +"Well, sir," said his father, coldly, "we had scarce looked for you +back among us." + +"No, sir," said Ned, still standing. "I had no right to be looked for, +sir--no more than the prodigal son had. I'm a bit like him, sir." + +"Don't count upon the fatted calf, however." + +"No, sir; not me. Very plain fare will do for me. I--I ask your +pardon, sir, for that--that business about Mr. Palmer." + +"The world has put you into a humble mood," said Mr. Faringfield, with +sarcastic indifference. + +"Yes, sir; the way of transgressors is hard, sir." + +"Why don't you sit down?" put in Mrs. Faringfield, who was made +uncomfortable by the sight of others being so. + +"Thank you, mother," said Ned, availing himself of the implied +permission. + +"I hear you've undergone a reformation," said his father. + +"I hope so, sir. They tell me I've got religion." + +"Who tells you?" + +"The Methodists. I went to their meetings in London. I--I thought I +needed a little of that kind of thing. That's how I happened to--to +save my soul." + +"And how do you conceive you will provide for your body?" + +"I don't know yet--exactly. If I might stay here till I could find +some employment--" + +Mr. Faringfield met the pleading look of Fanny, and the prudent one of +his wife. The latter reflected, as plainly as words, what had +manifestly entered his own mind: that immunity from future trouble on +Ned's account might indeed be had without recourse to a step entailing +public disgrace upon the family. So he said: + +"My intention was, if you should ever show your face in New York +again, to see you punished for that matter of the money and Mr. +Palmer. I don't give up that intention; I shall only postpone carrying +it out, during your good behaviour." + +"Thank you, sir; I dare say it's better than I deserve." + +And so was Mr. Ned established home again, to be provided for by his +father until he should obtain some means of self-support. In this task +his father offered no assistance, being cautious against vouching for +a person hitherto so untrustworthy; and it soon became evident that +Ned was not very vigorously prosecuting the task himself. He had the +excuse that it was a bad time for the purpose, the country being so +unsettled in the expectation of continued war. And he was content to +remain an idle charge upon his father's bounty, a somewhat neglected +inmate of the house, his comings and goings not watched or inquired +into. His father rarely had a word for him but of curt and formal +greeting. His mother found little more to say to him, and that in a +shy reserved manner. Margaret gave him no speeches, but sometimes a +look of careless derision and contempt, which must have caused him +often to grind his teeth behind his mask of humility. Philip's +courtesy to him was distinctly chilly; while Tom treated him rather +with the indifferent amiability of a new and not very close +acquaintance, than with any revival of old brotherly familiarity. I +shared Phil's doubts upon Ned's spiritual regeneration, and many +people in the town were equally skeptical. But there were enough of +those credulous folk that delight in the miraculous, who believed +fully in this marvellous conversion, and never tired of discussing the +wonder. And so Ned went about, posing as a brand snatched from the +burning, to the amusement of one-half the town, the admiration of the +other half, and the curiosity of both. + +"'Tis all fudge, says I," quoth lean old Bill Meadows, the watchman at +the Faringfield wharves. "His story and his face don't hitch. He +declares he was convarted by the Methodies, and he talks their talk +about salvation and redemption and the like. But if he really had +religion their way, he'd wear the face o' joy and gladness. Whereas he +goes about looking as sober as a covenanter that expected the day of +judgment to-morrow and knew he was predestinated for one O' the goats. +Methodie convarts don't wear Presbyterian faces. Ecod, sir" (this he +said to Phil, with whom he was on terms of confidence), "he's got it +in his head that religion and a glum face goes together; and he +thereby gives the lie to his Methodie convarsion." + +Ned was at first in rather sore straits for a companion, none of his +old associates taking well to his reformation. He had to fall back +upon poor Cornelius, who was always the most obliging of men and could +never refuse his company or aught else to any tolerable person that +sought it. But in a week or so Ned had won back Fanny to her old +allegiance, and she, in the kindness of her heart, and in her pity +that the poor repentant fellow should be so misunderstood, his +amendment so doubted, gave him as much of her time as he asked for. +She walked with him, rode with him, and boated with him. This was all +greatly to my cost and annoyance; for, ever since she had so gently +commiserated my loss of Margaret, I had learned more and more to value +her sweet consolation, rely upon her sympathy in all matters, and find +serenity and happiness in her society. It had come to be that two were +company, three were none--particularly when the third was Ned. So, if +she _would_ go about with him, I left her to go with him alone; and I +suffered, and pined, and raged inwardly, in consequence. 'Twas this +deprivation that taught me how necessary she was to me; and how her +presence gave my days half their brightness, my nights half their +beauty, my taste of everything in life half its sweetness. Philip was +unreservedly welcome to Madge now; I wondered I had been so late in +discovering the charms of Fanny. + +But one day I noticed that a coolness had arisen between her and Ned; +a scarce evident repulsion on her part, a cessation of interest on +his. This was, I must confess, as greatly to my satisfaction as to my +curiosity. But Fanny was no more a talebearer than if she had been of +our sex; and Ned was little like to disclose the cause intentionally: +so I did not learn it until by inference from a passage that occurred +one night at the King's Arms' Tavern. + +Poor Philip, avoided and ignored by Madge, who had not yet relented, +was taking an evening stroll with me, in the soothing company of the +pedagogue; when we were hailed by Ned with an invitation to a mug of +ale in the tavern. Struck with the man's apparent wistfulness for +company, and moved by a fellow feeling of forlornness, Philip +accepted; and Cornelius, always acquiescent, had not the ill grace to +refuse. So the four of us sat down together at a table. + +"I wish I might offer you madeira, gentlemen; or punch, at least," +said Ned regretfully, "but you know how it is. I'm reaping what I +sowed. Things might be worse. I knew 'em worse in London--before I +turned over a new leaf." + +The mugs being emptied, and the rest of us playing host in turn, they +were several times replenished. Ned had been drinking before he met +us; but this was not apparent until he began to show the effect of his +potations while the heads of us his companions were still perfectly +clear. It was evident that he had not allowed his conversion to wean +him from this kind of indulgence. The conversation reverted to his +time of destitution in London. + +"Such experiences," observed Cornelius, "have their good fruits. They +incline men to repentance who might else continue in their evil ways +all their lives." + +"Yes, sir; that's the truth!" cried Ned. "If I'd had some people's +luck--but it's better to be saved than to make a fortune--although, to +be sure, there are fellows, rascals, too, that the Lord seems to take +far better care of than he does of his own!" + +Mr. Cornelius looked a little startled at this. But the truth was, I +make no doubt, that the pretence of virtue, adopted for the purpose of +regaining the comforts of his father's house, wore heavily upon Ned; +that he chafed terribly under it sometimes; and that this was one of +the hours when, his wits and tongue loosened by drink, he became +reckless and allowed himself relief. He knew that Philip, Cornelius, +and I, never tattled. And so he cast the muzzle of sham reformation +from his mouth. + +He was silent for a while, recollections of past experience rising +vividly in his mind, as they will when a man comes to a certain stage +of drink. + +"Sure, luck is an idiot," he burst out presently, wrathful from his +memories. "It reminds me of a fool of a wench that passes over a +gentleman and flings herself at a lout. For, lookye, there was two of +us in London, a rascal Irishman and me, that lived in the same +lodgings. We did that to save cost, after we'd both had dogs' fortune +at the cards and the faro-table. If it hadn't been for a good-natured +woman or two--I spoke ill of the breed just now, but they have their +merits--we'd have had no lodgings at all then, except the Fleet, +maybe, or Newgate, if it had come to that. Well, as I was saying, we +were both as near starvation as ever _I_ wish to be, the Irishman and +me. There we were, poverty-stricken as rats, both tarred with the same +stick, no difference between us except he was an ugly brute, and a +scoundrel, and a man of no family. Now if either of us deserved good +fortune, it certainly was me; there can't be any question of that. And +yet, here I am, driven to the damnedest tedious time of it for bare +food and shelter, and compelled to drink ale when I'm--oh, curse it, +gentlemen, was ever such rotten luck?" + +Cornelius, whom disillusion had stricken into speechlessness at this +revelation of the old Ned under the masquerade, sighed heavily and +looked pained. But Philip, always curious upon matters of human +experience, asked: + +"What of the Irishman?" + +"Driving in his chariot, the dog! Swaggering in Pall Mall; eating and +drinking at taverns that it makes my mouth water to think of; laying +his hundred guineas a throw, if he likes. Oh, the devil! The fat of +London for that fellow; and me cast off here in New York to the most +hellish dull life! 'Tisn't a fair dispensation; upon my soul it +isn't!" + +"And what made him so fortunate?" inquired Philip. + +"Ay, that's the worst of it! What good are a man's relations? What +good are mine, at least? For that knave had only one relation, but she +was of some use, Lord knows! When it came to the worst with him, he +walked to Bristol, and begged or stole passage to Ireland, and hunted +up his sister, who had a few pounds a year of her own. He had thought +of borrowing a guinea or two, to try his fortune with again. But when +he saw his sister, he found she'd grown up into a beauty--no more of a +beauty than my sisters, though; but she was a girl of enterprise and +spirit. I don't say Madge isn't that; but she's married and done for. +But Fanny--well, I don't see anything brilliant in store for Fanny." + +"What has she to do with the affairs of your Irishman?" I asked. + +"Oh, nothing. She's a different kind from this Irish lady. For what +did that girl do, after her brother had seen her and got the idea, +than pack up and come to London with him. And he showed her around so +well, and her fine looks made such an impression, that within three +months he had her married to a lord's son--the heir to Lord Ilverton's +estates and title. And now she's a made woman, and he's a made man, +and what do you think of that for a lucky brother and a clever sister? +And yet, compared with Fanny--" + +"Do you mean to say," interrupted Philip, in a low voice, "that you +have ever thought of Fanny as a partner in such a plan?" + +"Little use to think of her," replied Ned, contemptuously. "She hasn't +the spirit. I'm afraid there ain't many sisters like Mullaney's. Poor +Fan wouldn't even listen--" + +"Did you dare propose it to her?" said Phil. My own feelings were too +strong for speech. + +"Dare!" repeated Ned. "Why not? 'Twould have made her fortune--" + +"Upon my word," put in Mr. Cornelius, no longer able to contain his +opinions, "I never heard of such rascality!" + +Something in the pedagogue's tone, I suppose, or in Ned's stage of +tipsiness at the moment, gave the speech an inflammatory effect. Ned +stared a moment at the speaker, in amazement. Then he said, with +aroused insolence: + +"What's this, Mr. Parson? What have _you_ to say here? My sister is +_my_ sister, let me tell you--" + +"If she knew you as well as I do now," retorted Cornelius, quietly, +"she wouldn't boast of the relationship." + +"What the devil!" cried Ned, in an elevated voice, thus drawing the +attention of the four or five other people in the room. "Who is this, +talks of relationships? You cursed parson-pedagogue--!" + +"Be quiet, Ned," warned Philip. "Everybody hears you." + +"I don't care," replied Ned, rising, and again addressing Cornelius. +"Does anybody boast of relationships to you, you tow-headed bumpkin? +Do you think you can call me to account, as you can the scum you +preach to on the wharves? I'll teach you!" + +Whereat, Cornelius being opposite him, Ned violently pushed forward +the table so as to carry the tutor over backward in his chair. His +head and back struck the floor heavily, and he lay supine beneath the +upset table. + +An excited crowd instantly surrounded our group. Philip and I +immediately removed the table, and helped Cornelius to his feet. The +pedagogue's face was afire; his fists were clenched; his chest +swelled; and one could judge from his wrists what sturdy arms his +sleeves encased. As he advanced upon Ned, he was all at once become so +formidable a figure that no one thought to interpose. Ned himself, +appalled at the approaching embodiment of anger and strength, +retreated a foot or two from the expected blow. Everybody looked to +see him stretched flat in a moment; when Cornelius suddenly stopped, +relaxed his muscles, unclosed his fists, and said to his insulter, in +a quiet but virile voice quite different from that of his usual +speech: + +"By the grace of God, I put my hands behind my back; for I've spoiled +handsomer faces than yours, Edward Faringfield!" + +There was a moment's pause. + +"The grace of God has no such effect upon me!" said I, rapping Ned +over the mouth with the back of my hand. Before the matter could go +any further, Philip caught my arm, and Cornelius's, and hurried us out +of the tavern. + +I now knew what had broken the friendship between Fanny and her +worthless brother. I feared a catastrophe when Mr. Faringfield should +learn of the occurrence at the tavern. But, thanks to the silence of +us who were concerned, and to the character of the few gentlemen with +whom he deigned to converse, it never came to his ears. Ned, restored +to his senses, and fearing for his maintenance, made no attempt to +retaliate my blow; and resumed his weary pretence of reformation. But +years afterward we were to recall his story of the Irishman's sister. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_Enemies in War._ + + +As this is not a history of the wars I shall not dwell upon the talk +and preparations that went on during the weeks ensuing upon our +eventful Sunday: which talk was common to both parties, but which +preparations were mainly on the part of the rebels, we loyalists +awaiting events and biding the return from England of Governor Tryon. +There were looks of suspicion exchanged, and among the more violent +and uncouth there were open boasts bandied, open taunts reciprocated, +and open threats hurled back and forth. Most of the quality of the +town were on the loyal side; but yet there were some excellent +families--such as the Livingstones--who stood first and last among the +so-called Whigs. This was the case in great part of the country, the +wealth and culture, with distinguished exceptions, being for the king +and parliament; though, I must own, a great quantity of the brains +being on the other side: but in Virginia and her Southerly neighbours, +strange to say, the aristocracy largely, though not entirely, leaned +toward revolt; for what reason I never knew, unless it was that many +of them, descended from younger sons of good English stock who had +been exiled as black sheep or ne'er-do-wells, inherited feelings +similar to Mr. Faringfield's. Or perhaps 'twas indeed a pride, which +made them resentful of the superiority assumed by native Englishmen +over them as colonists. Or they may have felt that they should +actually become slaves in submitting to be taxed by a parliament in +which they were not represented. In any case, they (like Philip +Winwood and Mr. Faringfield, the Adamses of Boston, and thousands of +others) had motives that outweighed in them the sentiment of loyalty, +the passion of attachment to the land whence we had drawn our race and +still drew our culture and all our refinements and graces. This +sentiment, and this passion, made it impossible for Tom Faringfield +and me to see any other course for us than undeviating fidelity to the +king and the mother-country. There were of course some loyalists (or +Tories, if you prefer that name) who took higher views than arose from +their mere affections, and who saw harm for America in any revolt from +English government; and there were others, doubtless, whose motives +were entirely low and selfish, such as holders of office under the +crown, and men who had powers and privileges of which any change of +system, any disturbance of the royal authority, might deprive them. It +was Philip who called my attention to this last class, and to the +effect its existence must have on the common people in the crisis then +present. + +"The colonists of America are not like any other people," said he. +"Their fathers came to this land when it was a savage wilderness, +tearing themselves from their homes, from civil surroundings; that +they might be far from tyranny, in small forms as well as great. Not +merely tyranny of king or church, but the shapes of it that Hamlet +speaks of--'the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the +insolence of office.' All for the sake of liberty, they battled with +savages and with nature, fought and toiled, bled and starved. And +Tyranny ignored them till they had transformed their land and +themselves into something worth its attention. And then, backed and +sustained by royal authority, those hated things stole in upon +them--'the insolence of office, the proud man's contumely, the +oppressor's wrong.' This, lookye, besides the particular matter of +taxation without representation; of being bid to obey laws they have +no hand in making; of having a set of masters, three thousand miles +away, and not one of their own land or their own choosing, order them +to do thus and so:--why, 'twere the very soul and essence of slavery +to submit! Man, how can you wonder I am of their side?" + +"And with your taste for the things to be found only in the monarchies +of Europe; for the arts, and the monuments of past history, the places +hallowed by great events and great men!" said I, quoting remembered +expressions of his own. + +"Why," says he, smiling a little regretfully, "we shall have our own +arts and hallowed places some day; meanwhile one's taste must defer to +one's heart and one's intelligence." + +"Yes," said I, with malicious derision, "when 'tis so great a question +as a paltry tax upon tea." + +"'Tis no such thing," says he, warming up; "'tis a question of being +taxed one iota, the thousandth part of a farthing, by a body of +strangers, a body in which we are not represented." + +"Neither were we represented in it when it sent armies to protect us +from the French, and toward the cost of which 'tis right we should +pay." + +"We paid, in men and money both. And the armies were sent less for our +protection than for the aggrandisement of England. She was fighting +the French the world over; in America, as elsewhere, the only +difference being that in America we helped her." + +So 'twas disputed between many another pair of friends, between +brothers, between fathers and sons, husbands and wives. I do not know +of another civil war that made as many breaks in families. Meanwhile, +the local authorities--those of local election, not of royal +appointment--were yet outwardly noncommittal. When Colonel Washington, +the general-in-chief appointed by the congress of the colonies at +Philadelphia, was to pass through New York on his way to Cambridge, +where the New England rebels were surrounding the king's troops in +Boston, it was known that Governor Tryon would arrive from England +about the same time. Our authorities, rather than seem to favour one +side, sent a committee to New Jersey to meet the rebel commander and +escort him through the town, and immediately thereafter paid a similar +attention to the royal governor. One of those who had what they +considered the honour of riding behind Mr. Washington a part of his +way (he came accompanied by a troop of horse from Philadelphia, and +made a fine, commanding figure, I grant) was Philip Winwood. When he +returned from Kingsbridge, I, pretending I had not gone out of my way +to see the rebel generalissimo pass, met him with a smile, as if to +make a joke of all the rebel preparations: + +"Well," says I, "what manner of hero is your illustrious chief? A very +Julius Cæsar, I make no doubt." + +"A grave and modest gentleman," says Phil, "and worthy of all the +admiration you used to have for him when we would talk of the French +War. I remember you would say he was equal to all the regular English +officers together; and how you declared Governor Shirley was a fool +for not giving him a king's commission." + +"Well," said I, "'tis a thousand to one, that if Colonel Washington +hadn't been disappointed of a king's commission, he wouldn't now be +leader of the king's enemies." I knew I had no warrant the slightest +for attributing Mr. Washington's patriotism to such a petty motive as +a long-cherished resentment of royal neglect; and years afterward, in +London, I was to chastise an equally reckless speaker for a similar +slander; but I was young and partisan, and being nettled by the +reminder of my inconsistency, spoke to irritate. + +"That is a lie!" said Phil, quietly, looking me straight in the face. + +Such a word from Philip made me stare in amazement; but it did not +improve my temper, or incline me to acknowledge the injustice I had +uttered. My face burned, my fingers clenched. But it was Philip that +had spoken; and a thing or two flashed into my mind in the pause; and, +controlling myself, I let out a long breath, opened my fists, and, +with the best intentions in the world, and with the quietest voice, +gave him a blow far more severe than a blow of the fist had been. + +"I will take that from you, Phil," said I: "God knows, your stand in +this rebellion has caused you enough unhappiness." + +He winced, and sent me a startled look, stung at my alluding to the +estrangement of his wife. I know not whether he took it as a taunt +from so dear a friend, or whether the mere mention of so delicate a +sorrow was too much for him; but his face twitched, and he gave a +swallow, and was hard put to it to hold back the tears. + +"Forgive me," I said, stricken to the heart at sight of this. "I am +your friend always, Phil." I put a hand upon his shoulder, and his +face turned to a kindly expression of pardon, a little short of the +smile he dared not yet trust himself to attempt. + +Margaret's demeanour to him, indeed, had not shown the smallest +softening. But to the rest of the world, after the immediate effects +of that Sunday scene had worn off, she seemed vastly more sparkling +and fascinating than ever before: whether she was really so, and of +intention, or whether the appearance was from contrast with her +treatment of Philip, I dare not say. But the impression was Philip's, +I think, as well as every one's else; and infinitely it multiplied the +sorrow of which he would not speak, but which his countenance could +not conceal. When the news of the affair at Bunker's Hill was +discussed at the supper-table one evening in June, I being present, +and Margaret heard how bravely the British charged the third and +successful time up to the rebel works, after being hurled back twice +by a very hell of musketry, she dropped her fork, and clapped her +hands, crying: + +"Bravo, bravo! 'Tis such men that grow in England. I could love every +one of 'em!" + +"Brave men, I allow," said Philip; "but as for their victory, 'twas +but a technical one, if accounts be true. Their loss was greater than +ours; and the fight proved that Americans can stand before British +regulars." + +Margaret paid no more notice than if Philip had not spoken--'twas her +practice now to ignore his speeches not directed to herself alone--and +when he had done, she said, blithely, to one of the young De Lanceys, +who was a guest: + +"And so they drove the Yankees out! And what then, cousin?" + +"Why, that was all. But as for the men that grow in England, you'll +find some of us grown in America quite as ready to fight for the king, +if matters go on. Only wait till Governor Tryon sets about calling for +loyal regiments. We shall be falling over one another in the scramble +to volunteer. But I mean to be first." + +"Good, cousin!" she cried. "You may kiss my hand for that--nay, my +cheek, if I could reach it to you." + +"Faith," said De Lancey, after gallantly touching her fingers with his +lips, "if all the ladies in New York had such hands, and offered 'em +to be kissed by each recruit for the king, there'd be no man left to +fight on the rebel side." + +"Why, his Majesty is welcome to my two hands for the purpose, and my +face, too," she rattled on. "But some of our New York rebels were +going to do great things: 'tis two months now, and yet we see nothing +of their doings." + +"Have a little patience, madam," said Philip, very quietly. "We rebels +may be further advanced in our arrangements than is known in all +quarters." + +The truth of this was soon evident. In the open spaces of the +town--the parade-ground (or Bowling Green) outside the fort; the +common at the head of the town; before the very barracks in Chambers +Street that had just been vacated by the last of the royal troops in +New York, they having sailed for Boston rather for their own safety +than to swell the army there--there was continual instructing and +drilling of awkward Whigs. Organisation had proceeded throughout the +province, whose entire rebel force was commanded by Mr. Philip +Schuyler, of Albany; subordinate to whom was Mr. Richard Montgomery, +an Irish gentleman who had first set foot in America at Louisbourg, as +a king's officer, and who now resided beyond Kingsbridge. + +It was under Montgomery that Philip Winwood took service, enlisting as +a private soldier, but soon revealing such knowledge of military +matters that he was speedily, in the off-hand manner characteristic of +improvised armies, made a lieutenant. This was a little strange, +seeing that there was a mighty scramble for commissions, nine out of +every ten patriots, however raw, clamouring to be officers; and it +shows that sometimes (though 'tis not often) modest merit will win as +well as self-assertive incompetence. Philip had obtained his +acquaintance with military forms from books; he was, in his ability to +assimilate the matter of a book, an exception among men; and a still +greater exception in his ability to apply that matter practically. +Indeed, it sometimes seemed that he could get out of a book not only +all that was in it, but more than was in it. Many will not believe +what I have related of him, that he had actually learned the rudiments +of fencing, the soldier's manual of arms, the routine of camp and +march, and such things, from reading; but it is a fact: just as it is +true that Greene, the best general of the rebels after Washington, +learned military law, routine, tactics, and strategy, from books he +read at the fire of the forge where he worked as blacksmith; and that +the men whom he led to Cambridge, from Rhode Island, were the best +disciplined, equipped, uniformed, and maintained, of the whole Yankee +army at that time. As for Philip's gift of translating printed matter +into actuality, I remember how, when we afterward came to visit +strange cities together, he would find his way about without a +question, like an old resident, through having merely read +descriptions of the places. + +But rank did not come unsought, or otherwise, to Philip's fellow +volunteer from the Faringfield house, Mr. Cornelius. The pedagogue, +with little to say on the subject, took the rebel side as a matter of +course, Presbyterians being, it seems, republican in their nature. He +went as a private in the same company with Philip. + +It was planned that the rebel troops of New York province should +invade Canada by way of Lake George, while the army under Washington +continued the siege of Boston. Philip went through the form of +arranging that his wife should remain at her father's house--the only +suitable home for her, indeed--during his absence in the field; and +so, in the Summer of 1775, upon a day much like that in which he had +first come to us twelve years before, it was ours to wish him for a +time farewell. + +Mr. Faringfield and his lady, with Fanny and Tom, stood in the hall, +and my mother and I had joined them there, when Philip came +down-stairs in his new blue regimentals. He wore his sword, but it was +not his wife that had buckled it on. There had been no change in her +manner toward him: he was still to her but as a strange guest in the +house, rather to be disdained than treated with the courtesy due even +to a strange guest. We all asked ourselves what her farewell would be, +but none mentioned the thought. As Phil came into view at the first +landing, he sent a quick glance among us to see if she was there. For +a moment his face was struck into a sadly forlorn expression; but, as +if by chance, she came out of the larger parlour at that moment, and +his countenance revived almost into hope. The rest of us had already +said our good-byes to Mr. Cornelius, who now stood waiting for Philip. +As the latter reached the foot of the stairs, Margaret suddenly turned +to the pedagogue, to add her civility to ours, for she had always +liked the bashful fellow, and _his_ joining the rebels was to her a +matter of indifference--it did not in any way affect her own pleasure. +This movement on her part made it natural that Philip's first +leave-taking should be of Mr. Faringfield, who, seeing Margaret +occupied, went forward and grasped Phil's hand. + +"God bless thee, lad," said he, showing the depth of his feelings as +much by a tenderness very odd in so cold a man, as by reverting to the +old pronoun now becoming obsolete except with Quakers, "and bring thee +safe out of it all, and make thy cause victorious!" + +"Good-bye, Philip," said Mrs. Faringfield, with some betrayal of +affection, "and heaven bring you back to us!" + +Fanny's farewell, though spoken with a voice more tremulous and eyes +more humid, was in the same strain; and so was that of my mother, +though she could not refrain from adding, "Tis such a pity!" and +wishing that so handsome a soldier was on the right side. + +"Good-bye and good luck, dear old Phil!" was all that Tom said. + +"And so say I," I put in, taking his hand in my turn, and trying not +to show my discomposure, "meaning to yourself, but not to your cause. +Well--dear lad--heaven guard you, and give you a speedy return! For +your sake and ours, may the whole thing be over before your campaign +is begun. I should like to see a war, and be in one--but not a war +like this, that makes enemies of you and me. Good-bye, Phil--and come +back safe and sound." + +'Twas Margaret's time now, for Ned was not present. There was a pause, +as Phil turned questioningly--nay wistfully--toward her. She met his +look calmly. Old Noah and some of the negroes, who had pressed forward +to see Phil's departure from the house, were waiting for her to speak, +that they might afterward call out their Godspeed. + +"Good-bye!" she said, at last, holding out her hand indifferently. + +He took the hand, bent over it, pressed it with his lips. Then he +looked at her again. I think she must have shown just the slightest +yielding, given just the least permission, in her eyes; for he went +nearer, and putting his arm around her, gently drew her close to him, +and looked down at her. Suddenly she turned her face up, and pursed +her lips. With a look of gladness, he passionately kissed her. + +"God bless you, my dear wife," he whispered; and then, as if by +expecting more he might court a disappointment to mar the memory of +that leave-taking, he released her, and said to us all: "Take care of +her, I pray!" whereupon, abruptly turning, he hastened out of the open +door, waving back his hat in response to our chorus of good-byes, and +the loud "Go' bless you, Massa Philip!" of the negroes. + +We followed quickly to the porch, to look after him. But he strode off +so fast that Cornelius had to run to keep up with him. He did not once +look back, even when he passed out of sight at the street corner. I +believe he divined that his wife would not be among those looking +after, and that he wished not to interpose any other last impression +of his dear home than that of her kiss. + +When we came back into the hall, she had flown. Later, as my mother +and I went through the garden homeward, passing beneath Margaret's +open windows, we heard her weeping--not violently, but steadily, +monotonously, as if she had a long season of the past to regret, a +long portion of the future to sorrow for. And here let me say that I +think Margaret, from first to last, loved Philip with more tenderness +than she was capable of bestowing upon any one else; with an affection +so deep that sometimes it might be obscured by counter feelings +playing over the surface of her heart, so deep that often she might +not be conscious of its presence, but so deep that it might never be +uprooted:--and 'twas that which made things the more pitiful. + +Tom and I went out, with a large number of the town's people, to watch +the rebel soldiers depart, and we saw Philip with his company, and +exchanged with him a smile and a wave of the hat. How little we +thought that one of us he was never to meet again, that the other he +was not to see in many years, and that four of those years were to +pass ere he should set foot again in Queen Street. + +Many things, to be swiftly passed over in my history, occurred in +those four years. One of these, the most important to me, happened a +short time after Philip's departure for the North. It was a brief +conversation with Fanny, and it took place upon the wayside walk at +what they call the Battery, at the green Southern end of the town, +where it is brought to a rounded point by the North and East Rivers +approaching each other as they flow into the bay. To face the gentle +breeze, I stopped and turned so we might look Southward over the bay, +toward where, at the distant Narrows, Long Island and Staten Island +seem to meet and close it in. + +"I don't like to look out yonder," said Fanny. "It makes me imagine +I'm away on the ocean, by myself. And it seems so lonely." + +"Why, you poor child," replied I, "'tis a sin you should ever feel +lonely; you do so much to prevent others being so." I turned my back +upon the bay, and led her past the fort, toward the Broadway. "You +see," said I, abruptly, glancing at her brown eyes, which dropped in a +charming confusion, "how much you need a comrade." I remember I was +not entirely unconfused myself at that moment, for inspiration had +suddenly shown me my opportunity, and how to use it, and some inward +trepidation was inseparable from a plunge into the matter I was now +resolved upon going through. + +"Why," says she, blushing, and seeming, as she walked, to take a great +interest in her pretty feet, "I have several comrades as it is." + +"Yes. But I mean one that should devote himself to you alone. Philip +has Margaret; and besides, he is gone now, and so is Mr. Cornelius. +And Tom will be finding a wife some day, and your parents cannot live +for ever, and your friends will be married one after another." + +"Poor me!" says she, with a sigh of comic wofulness. "How helpless and +alone you make me feel!" + +"Not so entirely alone, neither! There's one I didn't mention." + +"And that one, too, I suppose, will be running off some day." + +"No. He, like Tom, will be seeking a wife some day; perhaps sooner +than Tom; perhaps very soon indeed; perhaps this very minute." + +"Oh, Bert!--What nonsense! Don't look at me so, here in the +street--people will take notice." + +"What do I care for people? Let the fellows all see, and envy me, if +you'll give me what I ask. What say you, dearest? Speak; tell me! Nay, +if you won't, I'll make you blush all the more--I love you, I love +you, I love you! Now will you speak?" + +"Oh, Bert, dear, at least wait till we are home!" + +"If you'll promise to say yes then." + +"Very well--if 'twill please you." + +"Nay, it must be to please yourself too. You do love me a little, +don't you?" + +"Why, of course I do; and you must have known it all the time!" + +But, alas, her father's "yes" was not so easily to be won. I broached +the matter to him that very evening (Fanny and I meanwhile having come +to a fuller understanding in the seclusion of the garden); but he +shook his head, and regarded me coldly. + +"No, sir," said he. "For, however much you are to be esteemed as a +young gentleman of honour and candour and fine promise, 'tis for me to +consider you rather as an adherent of a government that has persecuted +my country, and now makes war upon it. The day may come when you will +find a more congenial home nearer the crown you have already expressed +your desire to fight for. And then, if Fanny were your wife, you would +carry her off to make an Englishwoman of her, as my first daughter +would have been carried by her husband, upon different motives, but +for this war. Perhaps 'twere better she could have gone," he added, +with a sigh, for Margaret had been his favourite child; "my loss of +her could scarce have been more complete than it is. But 'tis not so +with Fanny." + +"But, sir, I am not to take it that you refuse me, definitely, +finally?--I beg--" + +"Nay, sir, I only say that we must wait. Let us see what time shall +bring to pass. I believe that you will not--and I am sure that Fanny +will not--endeavour any act without my consent, or against my wish. +Nay, I don't bid you despair, neither. Time shall determine." + +I was not so confident that I would not endeavour any act without his +consent; but I shared his certainty that Fanny would not. And so, in +despondency, I took the news to her. + +"Well," says she, with a sigh. "We must wait, that's all." + +While we were waiting, and during the Fall and Winter, we heard now +and then from Philip, for communication was still possible between New +York and the rebel army proceeding toward Canada. He wrote Margaret +letters of which the rest of us never saw the contents; but he wrote +to Mr. Faringfield and me also. His history during this time was that +of his army, of which we got occasional news from other sources. +During part of September and all of October it was besieging St. +John's, which capitulated early in November. Schuyler's ill-health had +left the supreme active command to Montgomery. The army pushed on, and +occupied Montreal, though it failed to capture Governor Carleton; who +escaped to Quebec in a boat, by ingeniously disguising himself as a +countryman. At Montreal the jealousies and quarrels of officers, so +summarily created such, gave Montgomery much trouble, and when he set +forward for Quebec, there to join the force sent under Arnold through +the Maine wilderness from the rebel main army at Cambridge, he could +take with him but three hundred men--so had the patriot warriors of +New York fallen off in zeal and numbers! But you may be sure it was +not from Philip's letters that we got these items disadvantageous to +his cause. + +Our last word from him was when he was in quarters before Quebec: +Cornelius was with him; and they were having a cold and snowy time of +it, waiting for Quebec to fall before them. He mentioned casually that +he had been raised to a captaincy: we afterward learned that this was +for brave conduct upon the occasion of a sally of Scotch troops from +one of the gates of Quebec to cut off a mortar battery and a body of +riflemen; Philip had not only saved the battery and the riflemen, but +had made prisoners of the sallying party. + +Late in the Winter--that is to say, early in 1776--we learned of the +dire failure of the night attack made by the combined forces of +Montgomery and Arnold upon Quebec at the end of December, 1775; that +Arnold had been wounded, his best officers taken prisoners, and +Montgomery killed. The first reports said nothing of Winwood. When +Margaret heard the news, she turned white as a sheet; and at this +triumph of British arms my joy was far outweighed, Mr. Faringfield's +grief multiplied, by fears lest Philip, who we knew would shirk no +danger, had met a fate similar to his commander's. But subsequent news +told us that he was a prisoner, though severely wounded. We comforted +ourselves with considering that he was like to receive good nursing +from the French nuns of Quebec. And eventually we found the name of +Captain Winwood in a list of rebel prisoners who were to be exchanged; +from which, as a long time had passed, we inferred that he was now +recovered of his injuries; whereupon Margaret, who had never spoken of +him, or shown her solicitude other than by an occasional dispirited +self-abstraction, regained all her gaiety and was soon her old, +charming self again. In due course, we learned that the exchange of +prisoners had been effected, and that a number of officers (among whom +was Captain Winwood) had departed from Quebec, bound whither we were +not informed; and after that we lost track of him for many and many a +month. + +Meanwhile, the war had made itself manifest in New York: at first +distantly, as by the passage of a few rebel companies from +Pennsylvania and Virginia through the town on their way to Cambridge; +by continued enlistments for the rebel cause; by the presence of a +small rebel force of occupation; and by quiet enrolments of us +loyalists for service when our time should come. But in the beginning +of the warm weather of 1776, the war became apparent in its own shape. +The king's troops under Sir William Howe had at last evacuated Boston +and sailed to Halifax, taking with them a host of loyalists, whose +flight was held up to us New York Tories as prophetic of our own fate. +Washington now supposed, rightly, that General Howe intended presently +to occupy New York; and so down upon our town, and the island on which +it was, and upon Long Island, came the rebel main army from Cambridge; +and brought some very bad manners with it, for all that there never +was a finer gentleman in the world than was at its head, and that I am +bound to own some of his officers and men to have been worthy of him +in good breeding. Here the army was reinforced by regiments from the +middle and Southern provinces; and for awhile we loyalists kept close +mouths. Margaret, indeed, for the time, ceased altogether to be a +loyalist, in consequence of the gallantry of certain officers in blue +and buff, and several Virginia dragoons in blue and red, with whom she +was brought into acquaintance through her father's attachment to the +rebel interest. She expanded and grew brilliant in the sunshine of +admiration (she had even a smile and compliment from Washington +himself, at a ball in honour of the rebel declaration of independence) +in which she lived during the time when New York abounded with rebel +troops. + +But that was a short time; for the British disembarked upon Long +Island, met Washington's army there and defeated it, so that it had to +slip back to New York in boats by night; then landed above the town, +almost in time to cut it off as it fled Northward; fought part of it +on the heights of Harlem; kept upon its heels in Westchester County; +encountered it again near White Plains; and came back triumphant to +winter in and about New York. And now we loyalists and the rebel +sympathisers exchanged tunes; and Margaret was as much for the king +again as ever--she never cared two pins for either cause, I fancy, +save as it might, for the time being, serve her desire to shine. + +She was radiant and joyous, and made no attempt to disguise her +feelings, when it was a settled fact that the British army should +occupy New York indefinitely. + +"'Tis glorious!" said she, dancing up and down the parlour before Tom +and me. "This will be some relief from dulness, some consolation! The +town will be full of gallant generals and colonels, handsome majors, +dashing captains; there are lords and baronets among 'em; they'll be +quartered in all the good houses; there will be fine uniforms, +regimental bands, and balls and banquets! Why, I can quite endure +this! War has its compensations. We'll have a merry winter of it, +young gentlemen! Sure 'twill be like a glimpse of London." + +"And there'll be much opportunity for vain ladies to have their heads +turned!" quoth Tom, half in jest, half in disapproval. + +"I know nothing of that," says she, "but I do know whose sister will +be the toast of the British Army before a month is past!" + +If the king's troops acquired a toast upon entering New York, the +rebels had gained a volunteer upon leaving it. One day, just before +Washington's army fled, Tom Faringfield came to me with a face all +amusement. + +"Who do you think is the latest patriot recruit?" cried he. It was our +custom to give the rebels ironically their own denomination of +patriots. + +"Not you nor I, at any rate," said I. + +"But one of the family, nevertheless." + +"Why, surely--your father has not--" + +"Oh, no; only my father's eldest." + +"Ned?" + +"Nobody else. Fancy Ned taking the losing side! Oh, 'fore God, it's +true! He came home in a kind of uniform to-day, and told father what +he had done; the two had a long talk together in private after that; +and though father never shows his thoughts, I believe he really has +some hopes of Ned now. The rebels made a lieutenant of him, on +father's account. I wonder what his game is." + +"I make no doubt, to curry favour with his father." + +"Maybe. But perhaps to get an excuse for leaving town, and a way of +doing so. I've heard some talk--they say poor Sally Roberts's +condition is his work." + +"Very like. Your brother is a terrible Adonis--with ladies of a +certain kind." + +"Not such an Adonis neither--at least the Adonis that Venus courted in +Shakespeare's poem. Rather a Jove, I should say." + +We did not then suspect the depth of Mr. Ned's contrivance or +duplicity. He left New York with the rebels, and 'twas some time ere +we saw, or heard of, him again. + +And now at last several loyalist brigades were formed as auxiliaries +to the royal army, and Tom and I were soon happy in the consciousness +of serving our king, and in the possession of the green uniforms that +distinguished the local from the regular force. We were of Colonel +Cruger's battalion, of General Oliver De Lancey's brigade, and both +were so fortunate as to obtain commissions, Tom receiving that of +lieutenant, doubtless by reason of his mother's relationship to +General De Lancey, and I being made an ensign, on account of the +excellent memory in which my father was held by the loyal party. Mr. +Faringfield, like many another father in similar circumstances, was +outwardly passive upon his son's taking service against his own cause: +as a prudent man, he had doubtless seen from the first the advantage +of having a son actually under arms for the king, for it gave him and +his property such safety under the British occupation as even his +lady's loyalist affiliations might not have sufficed to do. Therefore +Tom, as a loyalist officer, was no less at home than formerly, in the +house of his rebel father. I know not how many such family situations +were brought about by this strange war. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_I Meet an Old Friend in the Dark._ + + +I shall not give an account of my military service, since it entered +little into the history of Philip Winwood. 'Twas our duty to help man +the outposts that guarded the island at whose Southern extremity New +York lies, from rebel attack; especially from the harassments of the +partisan troops, and irregular Whiggery, who would swoop down in +raiding parties, cut off our foragers, drive back our wood-cutters, +and annoy us in a thousand ways. We had such raiders of our own, too, +notably Captain James De Lancey's Westchester Light Horse, Simcoe's +Rangers, and the Hessian yagers, who repaid the visits of our enemies +by swift forays across the neutral ground between the two armies. + +But this warfare did not exist in its fulness till later, when the +American army formed about us an immense segment of a circle, which +began in New Jersey, ran across Westchester County in New York +province, and passed through a corner of Connecticut to Long Island +Sound. On our side, we occupied Staten Island, part of the New Jersey +shore, our own island, lower Westchester County, and that portion of +Long Island nearest New York. But meanwhile, the rebel main army was +in New Jersey in the Winter of 1776-77, surprising some of our +Hessians at Trenton, overcoming a British force at Princeton, and +going into quarters at Morristown. And in the next year, Sir William +Howe having sailed to take Philadelphia with most of the king's +regulars (leaving General Clinton to hold New York with some royal +troops and us loyalists), the fighting was around the rebel capital, +which the British, after two victories, held during the Winter of +1777-78, while Washington camped at Valley Forge. + +In the Fall of 1777, we thought we might have news of Winwood, for in +the Northern rebel army to which General Burgoyne then capitulated, +there were not only many New York troops, but moreover several of the +officers taken at Quebec, who had been exchanged when Philip had. But +of him we heard nothing, and from him it was not likely that we should +hear. Margaret never mentioned him now, and seemed to have forgotten +that she possessed a husband. Her interest was mainly in the British +officers still left in New York, and her impatience was for the return +of the larger number that had gone to Philadelphia. To this impatience +an end was put in the Summer of 1778, when the main army marched back +to us across New Jersey, followed part way by the rebels, and fighting +with them at Monmouth Court House. 'Twas upon this that the lines I +have mentioned, of British outposts protecting New York, and rebel +forces surrounding us on all sides but that of the sea, were +established in their most complete shape; and that the reciprocal +forays became most frequent. + +And now, too, the British occupation of New York assumed its greatest +proportions. The kinds of festivity in which Margaret so brilliantly +shone, lent to the town the continual gaiety in which she so keenly +delighted. The loyalist families exerted themselves to protect the +king's officers from dulness, and the king's officers, in their own +endeavours to the same end, helped perforce to banish dulness from the +lives of their entertainers. 'Twas a gay town, indeed, for some folk, +despite the vast ugly blotches wrought upon its surface by two great +fires since the war had come, and despite the scarcity of provisions +and the other inconveniences of a virtual state of siege. Tom and I +saw much of that gaiety, for indeed at that time our duties were not +as active as we wished they might be, and they left us leisure enough +to spend in the town. But we were pale candles to the European +officers--the rattling, swearing, insolent English, the tall and +haughty Scots, the courtly Hessians and Brunswickers. + +"What, sister, have we grown invisible, Bert and I?" said Tom to +Margaret, as we met her in the hall one night, after we had returned +from a ball in the Assembly Rooms. "Three times we bowed to you this +evening, and got never a glance in return." + +"'Faith," says she, with a smile, "one can't see these green uniforms +for the scarlet ones!" + +"Ay," he retorted, with less good-humour than she had shown, "the +scarlet coats blind some people's eyes, I think, to other things than +green uniforms." + +It was, I fancy, because Tom had from childhood adored her so much, +that he now took her conduct so ill, and showed upon occasion a +bitterness that he never manifested over any other subject. + +"What do you mean, you saucy boy?" cried she, turning red, and looking +mighty handsome. "You might take a lesson or two in manners from some +of the scarlet coats!" + +"Egad, they wouldn't find time to give me lessons, being so busy with +you! But which of your teachers do you recommend--Captain Andre, Lord +Rawdon, Colonel Campbell, or the two Germans whose names I can't +pronounce? By George, you won't be happy till you have Sir Henry +Clinton and General Knyphausen disputing for the front place at your +feet!" + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY."] + +She softened from anger to a little laugh of conscious triumph, tapped +him with her fan, and sped up the stairs. Her prediction had come +true. She was indeed the toast of the army. Her mother apparently saw +no scandal in this, being blinded by her own partiality to the royal +side. Her father knew it not, for he rarely attended the British +festivities, from which he could not in reason debar his wife and +daughters. Fanny was too innocent to see harm in what her sister did. +But Tom and I, though we never spoke of it to each other, were made +sensitive, by our friendship for Philip, to the impropriety of the +situation--that the wife of an absent American officer should reign as +a beauty among his military enemies. I make no doubt but the +circumstance was commented upon, with satirical smiles at the expense +of both husband and wife, by the British officers themselves. Indeed I +once heard her name mentioned, not as Mrs. Winwood, but as "Captain +Winwood's wife," with an expression of voice that made me burn to +plant my fist in the leering face of the fellow who spoke--some +low-born dog, I'll warrant, who had paid high for his commission. + +It was a custom of Tom's and mine to put ourselves, when off duty +together, in the way of more active service than properly fell to us, +by taking horse and riding to the eastern side of the Harlem River, +where was quartered the troop of Tom's relation, James De Lancey. In +more than one of the wild forays of these horsemen, did we take an +unauthorised part, and find it a very exhilarating business. + +One cold December afternoon in 1778, we got private word from Captain +De Lancey that he was for a raid up the Albany road, that night, in +retaliation for a recent severe onslaught made upon our Hessian post +near Colonel Van Cortlandt's mansion, either ('twas thought) by Lee's +Virginia Light Horse or by the partisan troop under the French +nobleman known in the rebel service as Armand. + +At nightfall we were on the gallop with De Lancey's men, striking the +sparks from the stony road under a cloudy sky. But these troops, +accustomed to darkness and familiar with the country, found the night +not too black for their purpose, which was, first, the seizing of some +cattle that two or three Whig farmers had contrived to retain +possession of, and, second, the surprising of a small advanced post +designed to protect rebel foragers. The first object was fairly well +accomplished, and a detail of men assigned to conduct the prizes back +to Kingsbridge forthwith, a difficult task for which those upon whom +it fell cursed their luck, or their commander's orders, under their +breath. One of the farmers, for stubbornly resisting, was left tied to +a tree before his swiftly dismantled house, and only Captain De +Lancey's fear of alarming the rebel outpost prevented the burning down +of the poor fellow's barn. + +The taking of these cattle had necessitated our leaving the highway. +To this we now returned, and proceeded Northward to where the road +crosses the Neperan River, near the Philipse manor-house. Instead of +crossing this stream, we turned to the right, to follow its left bank +some way upward, and then ascended the hill East of it, on which the +rebel post was established. Our course, soon after leaving the road, +lay through woods, the margin of the little river affording us only +sufficient clear space for proceeding in single file. De Lancey rode +at the head, then went two of his men, then Tom Faringfield and +myself, the troop stringing out behind us, the lieutenant being at the +rear. + +'Twas slow and toilsome riding; and only the devil's own luck, or some +marvellous instinct of our horses, spared us many a stumble over +roots, stones, twigs, and underbrush. What faint light the night +retained for well-accustomed eyes, had its source in the +cloud-curtained moon, and that being South of us, we were hidden in +the shadow of the woods. But 'tis a thousand wonders the noise of our +passage was not sooner heard, though De Lancey's stern command for +silence left no sound possible from us except that of our horses and +equipments. I fancy 'twas the loud murmur of the stream that shielded +us. But at last, as we approached the turning of the water, where we +were to dismount, surround the rebels hutted upon the hill before us, +creep silently upon them, and attack from all sides at a signal, there +was a voice drawled out of the darkness ahead of us the challenge: + +"Who goes thar?" + +We heard the click of the sentinel's musket-lock; whereupon Captain De +Lancey, in hope of gaining the time to seize him ere he could give the +alarm, replied, "Friends," and kept riding on. + +"You're a liar, Jim De Lancey!" cried back the sentinel, and fired his +piece, and then (as our ears told us) fled through the woods, up the +hill, toward his comrades. + +There was now nothing for us but to abandon all thought of surrounding +the enemy, or even, we told ourselves, of taking time to dismount and +bestow our horses; unless we were willing to lose the advantage of a +surprise at least partial, as we were not. We could but charge on +horseback up the hill, after the fleeing sentinel, in hope of coming +upon the rebels but half-prepared. Or rather, as we then felt, so we +chose to think, foolish as the opinion was. Indeed what could have +been more foolish, less military, more like a tale of fabulous knights +in some enchanted forest? A cavalry charge, with no sort of regular +formation, up a wooded hill, in a night dark enough in the open but +sheer black under the thick boughs; to meet an encamped enemy at the +top! But James De Lancey's men were noted rather for reckless dash +than for military prudence; they felt best on horseback, and would +accept a score of ill chances and fight in the saddle, rather than a +dozen advantages and go afoot. I think they were not displeased at +their discovery by the sentinel, which gave them an excuse for a +harebrained onset ahorse, in place of the tedious manoeuvre afoot that +had been planned. As for Tom and me, we were at the age when a man +will dare the impossible. + +So we went, trusting to the sense of our beasts, or to dumb luck, to +carry us unimpeded through the black woods. As it was, a few of the +animals ran headforemost against trees, and others stumbled over roots +and logs, while some of the riders had their heads knocked nearly off +by coming in contact with low branches. But a majority of us, to judge +by the noise we made, arrived with our snorting, panting steeds at the +hill-crest; where, in a cleared space, and fortified with felled +trees, upheaved earth, forage carts, and what not, stood the +improvised cabins of the rebels. + +Three or four shots greeted us as we emerged from the thick wood. We, +being armed with muskets and pistols as well as swords, returned the +fire, and spurred our horses on toward the low breastwork, which, as +it was not likely to have anything of a trench behind it, we thought +to overleap either on horse or afoot. But the fire that we met, almost +at the very barrier, felled so many of our horses and men, raised such +a hellish chorus of wild neighing, cries of pain and wrath, ferocious +curses and shouts of vengeance, that the men behind reined up +uncertain. De Lancey turned upon his horse, waved his sword, and +shouted for the laggards to come on. We had only the light of musketry +to see by. Tom Faringfield was unhorsed and down; and fearing he might +be wounded, I leaped to the ground, knelt, and partly raised him. He +was unharmed, however; and we both got upon our feet, with our swords +out, our discharged muskets slung round upon our backs, our intent +being to mount over the rebel's rude rampart--for we had got an +impression of De Lancey's sword pointed that way while he fiercely +called upon his troops to disregard the fallen, and each man charge +for himself in any manner possible, ahorse or afoot. + +But more and more of the awakened rebels--we could make out only their +dark figures--sprang forward from their huts (mere roofs, 'twere +better to call these) to the breastwork, each waiting to take careful +aim at our mixed-up mass of men and horses before he fired into it. As +Tom and I were extricating ourselves from the mass by scrambling over +a groaning man or two, and a shrieking, kicking horse that lay on its +side, De Lancey rode back to enforce his commands upon the men at our +rear, some of whom were firing over our heads. His turning was +mistaken for a movement of retreat, not only by our men, of whom the +unhurt promptly made to hasten down the hill, but also by the enemy, a +few of whom now leaped from behind their defence to pursue. + +Tom and I, not yet sensible of the action of our comrades, were +striding forward to mount the rampart, when this sally of rebels +occurred. Though it appalled us at the time, coming so unexpectedly, +it was the saving of us; for it stopped the fire of the rebels +remaining behind the barrier, lest they should hit their comrades. A +ringing voice, more potent than a bugle, now called upon these latter +to come back, in a tone showing their movement to have been without +orders. They speedily obeyed; all save one, a tall, broad +fellow--nothing but a great black figure in the night, to our +sight--who had rushed with a clubbed musket straight upon Tom and me. +A vague sense of it circling through the air, rather than distinct +sight of it, told me that his musket-butt was aimed at Tom's head. +Instinctively I flung up my sword to ward off the blow; and though of +course I could not stop its descent, I so disturbed its direction that +it struck only Tom's shoulder; none the less sending him to the ground +with a groan. With a curse, I swung my sword--a cut-and-thrust +blade-of-all-work, so to speak--with some wild idea of slicing off a +part of the rebel's head; but my weapon was hacked where it met him, +and so it merely made him reel and drop his musket. The darkness +falling the blacker after the glare of the firing, must have cloaked +these doings from the other rebels. Tom rose, and the two of us fell +upon our enemy at once, I hissing out the words, "Call for quarter, +you dog!" + +"Very well," he said faintly, quite docile from having had his senses +knocked out of him by my blow, and not knowing at all what was going +on. + +"Come then," said I, and grasped him by an arm, while Tom held him at +the other side; and so the three of us ran after De Lancey and his +men--for the captain had followed in vain attempt to rally them--into +the woods and down the hill. Tom's horse was shot, and mine had fled. + +Our prisoner accompanied us with the unquestioning obedience of one +whose wits are for the time upon a vacation. Getting into the current +of retreat, which consisted of mounted men, men on foot, riderless +horses, and the wrathful captain whose enterprise was now quite +hopeless through the enemy's being well warned against a second +attempt, we at last reached the main road. + +Here, out of a chaotic huddle, order was formed, and to the men left +horseless, mounts were given behind other men. Captain De Lancey +assigned a beast to myself and my prisoner. The big rebel clambered up +behind me, with the absent-minded acquiescence he had displayed ever +since my stroke had put his wits asleep. As we started dejectedly +Southward, full of bruises, aches, and weariness, there was some +question whether the rebels would pursue us. + +"Not if their officer has an ounce of sense," said Captain De Lancey, +"being without horses, as he is. He's scarce like to play the fool by +coming down, as I did in charging up! Well, we've left some wounded to +his care. Who is their commander? Ask your prisoner, Lieutenant +Russell." + +I turned on my saddle and put the query, but my man vouchsafed merely +a stupid, "Hey?" + +"Shake him back to his senses," said De Lancey, stopping his horse, as +I did mine, and Tom his. + +But shaking did not suffice. + +"This infernal darkness helps to cloud his wits," suggested the +captain. "Flash a light before his eyes. Here, Tippet, your lantern, +please." + +I continued shaking the prisoner, while the lantern was brought. +Suddenly the man gave a start, looked around into the black night, and +inquired in a husky, small voice: + +"Who are you? Where are we?" + +"We are your captors," said I, "and upon the Hudson River road, bound +for Kingsbridge. And now, sir, who are you?" + +But the rays of the lantern, falling that instant upon his face, +answered my question for me. + +"Cornelius!" I cried. + +"What, sir? Why--'tis Mr. Russell!" + +"Ay, and here is Tom Faringfield," said I. + +"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed the pedagogue, grasping the hand that +Tom held to him out of the darkness. + +"Mr. Cornelius, since that is your name," put in De Lancey, to whom +time was precious. "Will you please tell us who commands yonder, where +we got the reception our folly deserved, awhile ago?" + +"Certainly, sir," said Cornelius. "'Tis no harm, I suppose--no +violation of duty or custom?" + +"Not in the least," said I. + +"Why then, sir," says he, "since yesterday, when we relieved the +infantry there--we are dragoons, sir, though dismounted for this +particular service--a new independent troop, sir--Winwood's Horse--" + +"Winwood's!" cried I. + +"Ay, Captain Winwood's--Mr. Philip, you know--'tis he commands our +post yonder." + +"Oh, indeed!" said De Lancey, carelessly. "A relation of mine by +marriage." + +But for a time I had nothing to say, thinking how, after these years +of separation, Philip and I had come so near meeting in the night, and +known it not; and how, but for the turn of things, one of us might +have given the other his death-blow unwittingly in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_Philip's Adventures--Captain Falconer Comes to Town._ + + +Upon the way back to our lines, we were entertained by Mr. Cornelius +with an account of Philip's movements during the past three years. One +piece of information interested Captain De Lancey: the recent attack +upon Van Wrumb's Hessians, which it had been our purpose that night to +revenge, was the work of Winwood's troop of horse. Our curiosity upon +hearing of Philip as a captain of independent cavalry, who had left us +as a lieutenant of New York foot, was satisfied in the course of the +pedagogue's narrative. The tutor himself had received promotion upon +two sides: first, to the Presbyterian ministry, his admission thereto +having occurred while he was with the rebel army near Morristown, New +Jersey, the last previous Winter but one; second, to the chaplaincy of +Winwood's troop. + +"Sure the devil's in it," said I, when he had told me this, "if the +rebels' praying men are as sanguinary as you showed yourself +to-night--leaping out to pursue your beaten enemy, as you did." + +"Why," he replied, self-reproachfully, in his mildest voice, "I find, +do what I can, I have at bottom a combative spirit that will rise upon +occasion. I had thought 'twas long since quelled. But I fear no man is +always and altogether his own master. I saw even General Washington, +at Monmouth--but no matter for that. Especially of late, I have found +my demon of wrath--to speak figuratively--too much for me. 'Twas too +violently roused, maybe, that night your General Grey and his men fell +upon us as we slept, yonder across the Hudson, and slaughtered us like +sheep in the barn we lay in." + +"Why, were you in that too?" I asked, surprised. "I thought that troop +was called Lady Washington's Light Horse."[3] + +"Ay, we were then of that troop, Captain Winwood and I. 'Twas for his +conduct in that affair, his valour and skill in saving the remnant of +the troop, that he was put, t'other day, in command of an independent +company. I may take some pride in having helped him to this honour; +for his work the night General Grey surprised us was done so quietly, +and his report made so little of his own share in the business, +'twould have gone unrecognised, but for my account of it. Though, to +be sure, General Washington said afterward, in my hearing, that such +bravery and sagacity, coupled with such modesty, were only what he +might expect of Captain Winwood." + +Cornelius had shared Philip's fortunes since their departure from New +York. When Winwood fell wounded in the snow, between the two +blockhouses at the foot of the cliff, that night the rebels met defeat +at Quebec, the pedagogue remained to succour him, and so was taken +prisoner with him. He afterward helped nurse him in the French +religious house, in the walled "upper town," to which the rebel +wounded were conveyed. + +Upon the exchange of prisoners, Philip, having suffered a relapse, was +unable to accompany his comrades homeward, and Cornelius stayed to +care for him. There was a Scotchwoman who lived upon a farm a few +miles West of Quebec, and whose husband was serving on our side as one +of Colonel Maclean's Royal Highlanders. She took Winwood and the +pedagogue into her house as guests, trusting them till some uncertain +time in the future might find them able to pay. + +When at last Philip dared hazard the journey, the rebel siege of +Quebec, which had continued in a half-hearted manner until Spring +brought British reinforcements up the river in ship-loads, had long +been raised, and the rebels had long since flown. Provided by Governor +Carleton with the passports to which in their situation they were +entitled, the two started for New York, bound by way of the St. +Lawrence, the Richelieu, the lakes, and the Hudson. It was now Winter, +and only Winwood's impatience to resume service could have tempted +them to such a journey in that season. + +They came part way afoot, receiving guidance now from some solitary +fur-capped _courier du bois_ clad in skins and hoofed with snow-shoes, +now from some peaceful Indian, now from the cowled brothers of, some +forest monastery which gave them a night's shelter also. Portions of +the journey they made upon sledges driven by poor _habitans_ dwelling +in the far-apart villages or solitary farmhouses. At other times they +profited by boats and canoes, propelled up the St. Lawrence by French +peasants, befringed hunters, or friendly red men. Their entertainment +and housing were sometimes from such people as I have mentioned; +sometimes of their own contriving, the woods furnishing game for food, +fagots for fuel, and boughs for roof and bedding. + +They encountered no danger from human foes until they were in the +province of New York, and, having left the lakes behind them, were +footing it Southward along the now frozen Hudson. The Indians in +Northern New York had been won to our interest, by Sir John Johnson, +of Johnson Hall, in the Mohawk Valley, and were more than formerly +inclined to vigilance regarding travellers in those lonely regions. +Upon waking suddenly one night when camped in the woods, Philip saw by +the firelight that he was surrounded by a party of silent savages; his +sword and pistol, and Cornelius's rifle, being already in their +possession. The two soldiers were held as prisoners for several days, +and made to accompany their captors upon long, mysterious +peregrinations. At last they were brought before Sir John Johnson, at +one of his forts; and that gentleman, respecting Governor Carleton's +passes, and the fact that Captain Winwood was related by marriage to +the De Lanceys, sent them with a guide to Albany. + +Here they reported to General Schuyler; and Philip, having learned by +the experience of his journey that his wound left him incapacitated +for arduous service afoot, desired an arrangement by which he might +join the cavalry branch of the army. Mr. Schuyler was pleased to put +the matter through for him, and to send him to Morristown, New Jersey, +(where the rebel main force was then in Winter quarters) with a +commendatory letter to General Washington. Cornelius, whose time of +service had expired, was free to accompany him. + +Philip, being enrolled, without loss of nominal rank, in Lady +Washington's Light Horse, which Cornelius entered as a trooper, had now +the happiness of serving near the person of the commander-in-chief. He +was wounded again at the Brandywine, upon which occasion Cornelius +bore him off the field without their being captured. During the Winter +at Valley Forge, and at the battle of Monmouth, and in the recent +partisan warfare on both sides of the Hudson, their experiences were +those of Washington's army as a whole, of which there are histories +enough extant: until their troop was cut to pieces by Earl Grey, and +Captain Winwood was advanced to an independent command. This was but a +recent event. + +"And did he never think of us in New York," said Tom, "that he sent us +no word in all this time?" + +"Sure, you must thank your British occupation of New York, if you +received none of our messages. General Washington allowed them to +pass." + +"Ay, 'tis not easy for rebels to communicate with their friends in New +York," quoth I, "despite the traffic of goods between the Whig country +folk and some of our people, that Captain De Lancey knows about." + +"Tut, man!" said De Lancey. "Some things must be winked at; we need +their farm stuff as much as they want our tea and such. But +correspondence from rebels must go to headquarters--where 'tis like to +stop, when it's for a family whose head is of Mr. Faringfield's way of +thinking." + +"Well," said Mr. Cornelius, "Captain Winwood and I have discussed more +than one plan by which he might perchance get sight of his people for +a minute or so. He has hoped he might be sent into New York under a +flag of truce, upon some negotiation or other, and might obtain +permission from your general to see his wife while there; but he has +always been required otherwise when messengers were to be sent. He has +even thought of offering to enter the town clandestinely--" + +"Hush!" I interrupted. "You are indiscreet. We are soldiers of the +king, remember. But, to be sure, 'tis nonsense; Phil would not be such +a fool as to risk hanging." + +"Oh, to be sure; nonsense, indeed!" Cornelius stammered, much upset at +the imprudence due to his thoughtlessness. "And yet," he resumed +presently, "never did a man more crave a sight of those he left +behind. He would barter a year of his life, I think, for a minute's +speech with his wife. He talks of her by the hour, when he and I are +alone together. There was some coolness, you will remember, before +their parting; but 'twas not on his side, and his lady seemed to have +dropped it when he was taking leave of her; and three years of absence +have gone since then. So I am sure she has softened quite, and that +she desires his return as much as he longs for her presence. And +though he knows all this must be so, he keeps me ever reassuring and +persuading him it is. Ah, sir, if ever there was a man in love with +his wife!" + +I made no reply. I had previously informed him of her good health, in +answer to a question whose eagerness came of his friendship for +Philip. I asked myself whether his unsuspecting mind was like to +perceive aught that would pain him for Philip's sake, in her +abandonment to the gaieties of the town, to the attentions of the +king's officers, to the business of making herself twice as charming +as the pedagogue had ever seen her. + +We got it arranged that our prisoner should be put on parole and +quartered at Mr. Faringfield's house, where his welcome was indeed a +glad one. When Margaret heard of his presence in the town, she gave a +momentary start (it seemed to me a start of self-accusation) and paled +a little; but she composed herself, and asked in a sweet and gracious +(not an eager) tone: + +"And Philip?" + +I told her all I had learned from Cornelius, to which she listened +with a kindly heedfulness, only sometimes pressing her white teeth +upon her lower lip, and other times dropping her lustrous eyes from my +purposely steady, and perhaps reproachful, gaze. + +"So then," said she, as if to be gay at the expense of her husband's +long absence, "now that three years and more have brought him so near +us, maybe another three years or so will bring him back to us!" 'Twas +affected gaiety, one could easily see. Her real feeling must have been +of annoyance that any news of her husband should be obtruded upon her. +She had entered into a way of life that involved forgetfulness of him, +and for which she must reproach herself whenever she thought of him, +but which was too pleasant for her to abandon. But she had the virtue +to be ashamed that reminders of his existence were unwelcome, and +consequently to pretend that she took them amiably; and yet she had +not the hypocrisy to pretend the eager solicitude which a devoted wife +would evince upon receiving news of her long-absent soldier-husband. +Such hypocrisy, indeed, would have appeared ridiculous in a wife who +had scarce mentioned her husband's name, and then only when others +spoke of him, in three years. Yet her very self-reproach for +disregarding him--did it not show that, under all the feelings that +held her to a life of gay coquetry, lay her love for Philip, not dead, +nor always sleeping? + +When Cornelius came to the house to live, she met him with a warm +clasp of the hand, and with a smile of so much radiance and sweetness, +that for a time he must have been proud of her on Phil's behalf; and +so dazzled that he could not yet see those things for which, on the +same behalf, he must needs be sorrowful. + +Knowing now exactly where Philip was, we were able to send him speedy +news of Cornelius's safety, and of the good health and good wishes of +us all; and we got in reply a message full of thanks and of +affectionate solicitude. The transfer of his troop to New Jersey soon +removed the possibility of my meeting him. + +In the following Summer (that of 1779), as I afterward learned, +Captain Winwood and some of his men accompanied Major Lee's famous +dragoons (dismounted for the occasion) to the nocturnal surprise and +capture of our post at Paulus Hook, in New Jersey, opposite New York. +But he found no way of getting into the town to see us. And so I bring +him to the Winter of 1779, when the main rebel camp was again at +Morristown, and Philip stationed near Washington's headquarters. But +meanwhile, in New York, in the previous Autumn some additional British +troops had arrived from England; and one of these was Captain +Falconer. + +There was a ball one night at Captain Morris's country-house some +eight or ten miles North of the town, which the rebel authorities had +already declared confiscate, if I remember aright, but which, as it +was upon the island of Manhattan and within our lines, yet remained in +actual possession of the rightful owner. Here Washington (said to have +been an unsuccessful suitor to Mrs. Morris when she was Miss Philipse) +had quartered ere the British chased the rebels from the island of +Manhattan; and here now were officers of our own in residence. 'Twas a +fine, white house, distinguished by the noble columns of its Grecian +front; from its height it overlooked the Hudson, the Harlem, the East +River, the Sound, and miles upon miles of undulating land on every +side.[4] + +On this night the lights showed welcome from its many windows, open +doors, and balconies, and from the coloured paper lanterns festooned +upon its façade and strung aloft over its splendid lawn and gardens. +The house still stands, I hear, and is known as the Jumel Mansion, +from the widow who lives there. But I'll warrant it presents no more +such scenes as it offered that night, when the wealth and beauty of +New York, the chivalry of the king's army, arrived at its broad +pillared entrance by horse and by coach in a constant procession. In +the great hall, and the adjacent rooms, the rays of countless candles +fell upon brilliant uniforms, upon silk and velvet and brocade and +broadcloth, upon powdered hair, and fans and furbelows, upon white +necks and bosoms, and dazzling eyes, upon jewels and golden buckles +and shining sword-hilts. + +We that entered from the Faringfield coach were Mrs. Faringfield and +my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Tom and myself. We had just received +the greeting of our handsome hostess, and were passing up the hall, +when my eyes alighted upon the figure of an officer who stood alone, +in an attitude of pensive negligence, beside the mantelpiece. He was +fully six feet tall, but possessed a carriage of grace and elegance, +instead of the rigid erectness of so many of his comrades. He had a +slender, finely cut, English face, a long but delicate chin, gray eyes +of a beautiful clearness, slightly wavy hair that was now powdered, +and the hands and legs of a gentleman. + +"What a handsome fellow! Who is he?" whispered Margaret to Fanny. + +I glanced at her. Her eyes showed admiration--an expression I had +never before seen in them. I looked back at the officer. He in turn +had seen her. His face, from having worn a look half melancholy, half +languid, had speedily become animated with interest. 'Twas as if each +of these two superb creatures had unexpectedly fallen upon something +they had scarce hoped to find in their present environment. + +"A mighty pretty gentleman, indeed," said my mother. + +"Nay," said Margaret, with a swift relapse into indifference, "no such +Adonis neither, on second view." + +But I saw that she turned the corner of her eye upon him at intervals +as she moved forward, and that she was not sorry or annoyed to find +that he kept his gaze boldly upon her all the while. Presently he +looked about him, and singled out an acquaintance, to whom he made his +way. Five minutes later he was being introduced, as Captain Falconer, +to Mrs. Winwood. + +"'Faith," said he, in a courteous, subdued voice, after bowing very +low, "I did not think to find a lady so recently from St. James', in +this place. One might swear, looking at you, madam, that this was +Almack's." + +"Sir, you speak to one that never saw St. James' but in imagination," +said Margaret, coolly. "Sure one can be white, and moderately civil, +and yet be of New York." + +"The deuce, madam! A native? You?" + +"Ay, sir, of the aborigines; the daughter of a red Indian!" + +"'Fore God, then, 'tis no wonder the American colonists make war upon +the Indian race. Their wives and daughters urge 'em to it, out of +jealousy of the red men's daughters." + +"Why, if they wished the red ladies exterminated, they couldn't do +better than send a number of king's officers among 'em--famous +lady-killers, I've heard." + +"Madam, I know naught of that; nor of the art of lady-killing itself, +which I never desired to possess until this evening." + +The captain's eyes, so languid with melancholy or ennui a short while +before, now had the glow of pre-determined conquest; his face shone +with that resolve; and by this transformation, as well as by the +inconsistency of his countenance with the soft tone and playful matter +of his words, which inconsistency betrayed the gentleness to be +assumed, I read the man through once for all: selfish, resolute, +facile, versatile, able to act any part thoroughly and in a moment, +constant to his object till it was won, then quick to leave it for +another; unscrupulous, usually invincible, confident of his proven +powers rather than vain of fancied ones; good-natured when not +crossed, and with an irresistible charm of person and manner. And +Margaret too--there was more and other meaning in her looks than in +her light, ironical speeches. + +He led her through two minuets that night, and was her partner in the +Virginia reel (the name the Americans give the Sir Roger de Coverly); +and his was the last face we saw at our coach window as we started +homeward. + +"You've made the rest of the army quite jealous of this new captain," +growled Tom, as we rolled Southward over the stony Harlem road. "The +way Major Tarleton glared at him, would have set another man +trembling." + +"Captain Falconer doesn't tremble so easily, I fancy," said Margaret. +"And yet he's no marvel of a man, as I can see." + +Tom gave a sarcastic grunt. His manifestations regarding Margaret's +behaviour were the only exception to the kind, cheerful conduct of his +whole life. A younger brother is not ordinarily so watchful of a +sister's demeanour; he has the doings of other young ladies to concern +himself with. Tom did not lack these, but he was none the less keenly +sensitive upon the point of Margaret's propriety and good name. 'Twas +the extraordinary love and pride he had centred upon her, that made +him so observant and so touchy in the case. He brooded upon her +actions, worried himself with conjectures, underwent such torments as +jealous lovers know, such pangs as Hamlet felt in his uncertainty +regarding the integrity of his mother. + +Within a week after the Morris ball, it came to pass that Captain +Falconer was quartered, by regular orders, in the house of Mr. +Faringfield. Tom and I, though we only looked our thoughts, saw more +than accident in this. The officer occupied the large parlour, which +he divided by curtains into two apartments, sitting-room and +sleeping-chamber. By his courtesy and vivacity, he speedily won the +regard of the family, even of Mr. Faringfield and the Rev. Mr. +Cornelius. + +"Damn the fellow!" said Tom to me. "I can't help liking him." + +"Nor I, either," was my reply; but I also damned him in my turn. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_A Fine Project._ + + +Were it my own history that I am here undertaking, I should give at +this place an account of my first duel, which was fought with swords, +in Bayard's Woods, my opponent being an English lieutenant of foot, +from whom I had suffered a display of that superciliousness which our +provincial troops had so resented in the British regulars in the old +French War. By good luck I disarmed the man without our receiving more +than a small scratch apiece; and subsequently brought him to the +humbleness of a fawning spaniel, by a mien and tone of half-threatening +superiority which never fail of reducing such high-talking sparks to +abject meekness. 'Twas a trick of pretended bullying, which we +long-suffering Americans were driven to adopt in self-defence against +certain derisive, contemptuous praters that came to our shores from +Europe. But 'tis more to my purpose, as the biographer of Philip +Winwood, to continue upon the subject of Captain Falconer. + +He was the mirror of elegance, with none of the exaggerations of a +fop. He brought with him to the Queen Street house the atmosphere of +Bond Street and Pall Mall, the perfume of Almack's and the assembly +rooms, the air of White's and the clubs, the odour of the chocolate +houses and the fashionable taverns. 'Twas all that he represented, I +fancy, rather than what the man himself was, and conquering as he was, +that caught Margaret's eye. He typified the world before which she had +hoped to shine, and from which she had been debarred--cruelly +debarred, it may have seemed to her. I did not see this then; 'twas +another, one of a broader way of viewing things, one of a less partial +imagination--'twas Philip Winwood--that found this excuse for her. + +Captain Falconer had the perception soon to gauge correctly us who +were of American rearing, and the tact to cast aside the lofty manner +by which so many of his stupid comrades estranged us. He treated Tom +and me with an easy but always courteous familiarity that surprised, +flattered, and won us. He would play cards with us, in his +sitting-room, as if rather for the sake of our company than for the +pleasure of the game. Indeed, as he often frankly confessed, gambling +was no passion with him; and this was remarkable at a time when 'twas +the only passion most fine young gentlemen would acknowledge as +genuine in them, and when those who did not feel that passion affected +it. We admired this fine disdain on his part for the common +fashionable occupation of the age (for the pursuit of women was +pretended to be followed as a necessary pastime, but without much real +heart) as evidence of a superior mind. Yet he played with us, losing +at first, but eventually winning until I had to withdraw. Tom, having +more money to lose, held out longer. + +"Why now," said the captain once, regarding his winnings with a face +of perfect ruefulness, "'tis proven that what we seek eludes us, and +what we don't value comes to us! Here am I, the last man in the world +to court success this way, and here am I more winner than if I had +played with care and attention." + +Tom once mentioned, to another officer, Captain Falconer's luck at +cards as an instance of fortune befriending one who despised her +favours in that way. + +"Blood, sir!" exclaimed the officer. "Jack Falconer may have a mind +and taste above gaming as a pleasure, for aught I know. But I would I +had his skill with the cards. 'Tis no pastime with him, but a +livelihood. Don't you know the man is as poor as a church-mouse, but +for what he gets upon the green table?" + +This revelation a little dampened our esteem for the captain's +elevation of intellect, but I'll take my oath of it, he was really +above gaming as a way of entertaining his mind, however he resorted to +it as a means of filling his purse. + +Of course Tom's friendly association with him was before there was +sure cause to suspect his intentions regarding Margaret. His manner +toward her was the model of proper civility. He was a hundred times +more amiable and jocular with Fanny, whom he treated with the +half-familiar pleasantry of an elderly man for a child; petting her +with such delicacy as precluded displeasure on either her part or +mine. He pretended great dejection upon learning that her heart was +already engaged; and declared that his only consolation lay in the +fact that the happy possessor of the prize was myself: for which we +both liked him exceedingly. Toward Mrs. Faringfield, too, he used a +chivalrous gallantry as complimentary to her husband as to the lady. +Only between him and Margaret was there the distance of unvaried +formality. + +And yet we ought to have seen how matters stood. For now Margaret, +though she had so little apparent cordiality for the captain, had +ceased to value the admiration of the other officers, and had +substituted a serene indifference for the animated interest she had +formerly shown toward the gaieties of the town. And the captain, too, +we learned, had the reputation of an inveterate conqueror of women; +yet he had exhibited a singular callousness to the charms of the +ladies of New York. He had been three months in the town, and his name +had not been coupled with that of any woman there. We might have +surmised from this a concealed preoccupation. And, moreover, there was +my first reading of his countenance, the night of the Morris ball; +this I had not forgotten, yet I ignored it, or else I shut my eyes to +my inevitable inferences, because I could see no propriety in any +possible interference from me. + +One evening in December there was a drum at Colonel Philipse's town +house, which Margaret did not attend. She had mentioned, as reason for +absenting herself, a cold caught a few nights previously, through her +bare throat being exposed to a chill wind by the accidental falling of +her cloak as she walked to the coach after Mrs. Colden's rout. As the +evening progressed toward hilarity, I observed that Tom Faringfield +became restless and gloomy. At last he approached me, with a face +strangely white, and whispered: + +"Do you see?--Captain Falconer is not here!" + +"Well, what of that?" quoth I. "Ten to one, he finds these companies +plaguey tiresome." + +"Or finds other company more agreeable," replied Tom, with a very dark +look in his eyes. + +He left me, with no more words upon the subject. When it was time to +go home, and Mrs. Faringfield and Fanny and I sought about the rooms +for him, we found he had already taken his leave. So we three had the +chariot to ourselves, and as we rode I kept my own thoughts upon Tom's +previous departure, and my own vague dread of what might happen. + +But when Noah let us in, all seemed well in the Faringfield house. +Margaret was in the parlour, reading; and she laid down her book to +ask us pleasantly what kind of an evening we had had. She was the only +one of the family up to receive us, Mr. Faringfield having retired +hours ago, and Tom having come in and gone to bed without an +explanation. The absence of light in Captain Falconer's windows +signified that he too had sought his couch, for had he been still out, +his servant would have kept candles lighted for him. + +The next day, as we rode out Northward to our posts, Tom suddenly +broke the silence: + +"Curse it!" said he. "There are more mysteries than one. Do you know +what I found when I got home last night?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"Well, I first looked into the parlour, but no one was there. Instead +of going on to the library, I went up-stairs and knocked at Margaret's +door. I--I wanted to see her a moment. It happened to be unlatched, +and as I knocked rather hard, it swung open. No one was in that room, +either, but I thought she might be in the bedchamber beyond, and so I +crossed to knock at that. But I chanced to look at her writing-table +as I passed; there was a candle burning on it, and devil take me if I +didn't see a letter in a big schoolboy's hand that I couldn't help +knowing at a glance--the hand of my brother Ned!" + +"Then I'll engage the letter wasn't to Margaret. You know how much +love is lost between those two." + +"But it was to her, though! 'Dear M.,' it began--there's no one else +whose name begins with M in the family. And the writing was fresh--not +the least faded. I saw that much before I thought of what I was doing. +But when I remembered 'twasn't my letter, I looked no more." + +"But how could he send a letter from the rebel camp to her in New +York?"[5] + +"Why, that's not the strangest part of it. There's no doubt Washington +has spies in the town, and ways of communicating with the rebel +sympathisers here; I've sometimes thought my father--but no matter for +that. The fact is, there the letter was, as certainly from Ned as I'm +looking at you; and we know he's in the rebel army. But the wonder, +the incredible thing, is that he should write to Margaret." + +"'Tis a mystery, in truth." + +"Well, 'tis none of ours, after all, and of course this will go no +further--but let me tell you, the devil's in it when those two are in +correspondence. There's crookedness of some kind afoot, when such +haters combine together!" + +"You didn't ask her, of course?" + +"No. But I knocked at her chamber door, and getting no answer I went +down-stairs again. This time she was in the parlour. She had been in +the library before, it seemed; 'twas warmer there." + +But, as I narrowly watched the poor lad, I questioned whether he was +really convinced that she had been in the library before. He had said +nothing of Captain Falconer's sitting-room, of which the door was that +of the transformed large parlour, and was directly across the hall +from the Faringfields' ordinary parlour, wherein Tom had first sought +and eventually found her. + +'Twas our practice thus to ride back to our posts when we had been off +duty, although our rank did not allow us to go mounted in the service. +For despite the needs of the army, the Faringfields and I contrived to +retain our horses for private use. All of that family were good +riders, particularly Margaret. She often rode out for a morning's +canter, going alone because it was her will thereto, which was not +opposed, for she had so accustomed us to her aloofness that solitary +excursions seemed in place with her. One day, a little later in that +same December, Tom and I had taken the road by way of General De +Lancey's country mansion at Bloomingdale, rather than our usual +course, which lay past the Murray house of Incledon. As I rode +Northward at a slow walk, some distance ahead of my comrade, I +distinctly heard through a thicket that veiled the road from a little +glade at the right, the voice of Captain Falconer, saying playfully: + +"Nay, how can you doubt me? Would not gratitude alone, for the +reparation of my fortunes, bind me as your slave, if you had not +chains more powerful?" + +And then I caught this answer, in a voice that gave me a start, and +sent the blood into my face--the voice of Margaret: + +"But will those chains hold, if this design upon your gratitude fail?" + +She spoke as in jest, but with a perceptible undercurrent of +earnestness. This was a new attitude for her, and what a revelation to +me! In a flash I saw her infatuation for this fine fellow, some fear +of losing him, a pursuit of some plan by which she might repair his +fortunes and so bind him by obligation. Had Margaret, the invincible, +the disdainful, fallen to so abject a posture? And how long had these +secret meetings been going on? + +There was new-fallen snow upon the road, and this had deadened the +sound of our horses' feet to those beyond the thicket. Tom was not yet +so near as to have heard their voices. I saw the desirability of his +remaining in ignorance for the present, so I uttered a loud "chuck," +and gave a pull at my reins, as if urging my horse to a better gait, +my purpose being to warn the speakers of unseen passers-by ere Tom +should come up. I had not let my horse come to a stop, nor had I +otherwise betrayed my discovery. + +But, to my dread, I presently heard Tom cry sharply, "Whoa!" and, +looking back, saw he had halted at the place where I had heard the +voices. My warning must have failed to hush the speakers. Never shall +I forget the look of startled horror, shame, and anger upon his face. +For a moment he sat motionless; then he turned his horse back to an +opening in the thicket, and rode into the glade. I galloped after him, +to prevent, if possible, some fearful scene. + +When I entered the glade, I saw Margaret and Captain Falconer seated +upon their horses, looking with still fresh astonishment and +discomfiture upon the intruder. Their faces were toward me. Tom had +stopped his horse, and he sat regarding them with what expression I +could not see, being behind him. Apparently no one of the three had +yet spoken. + +Tom glanced at me as I joined the group, and then, in a singularly +restrained voice, he said: + +"Captain Falconer, may I beg leave to be alone with my sister a few +moments? I have something to ask her. If you would ride a little way +off, with Mr. Russell--" + +'Twas, after all, a most natural request. A brother may wish to speak +to his sister in private, and 'tis more fitting to put a gentleman +than a lady to the trouble of an absence. Seeing it thus, and speaking +with recovered composure as if nothing were wrong, the captain +courteously replied: + +"Most certainly. Mr. Russell, after you, sir--nay, no precedence to +rank, while we are simply private gentlemen." + +He bowed low to Margaret, and we two rode out to the highway, there to +pace our horses up and down within call. Of what passed between +brother and sister, I afterward received a close account. + +"I must have a straight answer," Tom began, "for I must not be put to +the folly of acting without cause. Tell me, then, upon your honour, +has there been reason between you and Captain Falconer for me to fight +him? The truth, now! Of course, I shall find another pretext. It looks +a thousand to one, there's reason; but I must be sure." + +"Why, I think you have lost your wits, Tom," said she. "If a gentleman +known to the family happens to meet me when I ride out, and we chance +to talk--" + +"Ay, but in such a private place, and in such familiar tones, when you +scarce ever converse together at home, and then in the most formal +way! Oh, sister, that it should come to this!" + +"I say, you're a fool, Tom! And a spy too--dogging my footsteps! What +right have you to call me to account?" + +"As your brother, of course." + +"My younger brother you are; and too young to understand all you see, +for one thing, or to hold me responsible to you for my actions, for +another." + +"I understand when your honour calls for my actions, however! Your +very anger betrays you. I will kill Falconer!" + +"You'll do nothing of the kind!" + +"You shall see! I know a brother's duties--his rights, by heaven!" + +"A brother has no duties nor rights, concerning a sister who is +married." + +"Then, if not as your brother, I have as your husband's friend. For, +by God, I _am_ Phil's friend, to the death; and while he's not here to +see what's passing, I dare act on his behalf. If I may not have a care +of my sister's honour, I may of Philip Winwood's! And now I'll go to +your captain!" + +"But wait--stay, Tom--a moment, for God's sake! You're mistaken, I +tell you. There's naught against Philip Winwood's honour in my meeting +Captain Falconer. We have conferences, I grant. But 'tis upon a matter +you know nothing of--a matter of the war." + +"What nonsense! To think I should believe that! What affair of the war +could you have to do with? It makes me laugh!" + +"I vow there's an affair I have to do with. What do you know of my +secrets, my planning and plotting? 'Tis an affair for the royal cause, +I'll tell you that much. Nay, I'll tell you all; you won't dare betray +it--you'd be a traitor to the king if you did. You shall be let into +it, you and Bert. Call back Captain Falconer and him." + +Puzzled and incredulous, but glad to test any assertion that might +clear his sister of the suspicion most odious, Tom hallooed for us. +When we re-entered the glade, Margaret spoke ere any one else had time +for a word: + +"Captain Falconer, I think you'll allow me the right to admit these +gentlemen into the secret of our interviews. They are both loyal, both +so dear to me that I'd gladly have them take a part in the honour of +our project--of which, heaven knows, there'll be enough and to spare +if we succeed." + +"Madam," said he, "its chance of success will be all the greater, for +the participation of these gentlemen." + +"Well?" said Tom, looking inquiringly at his sister. + +"You promise your aid, then, both?" she asked. + +"Let us hear it first," he replied. + +She obtained our assurances of secrecy in any event, and proceeded: + +"Everybody knows what this rebellion costs England, in money, men, and +commerce; not to speak of the king's peace of mind, and the feelings +of the nation. Everybody sees it must last well-nigh for ever, if it +doesn't even win in the end! Well, then, think what it would mean for +England, for the king, for America, if the war could be cut short by a +single blow, with no cost; cut short by one night's courage, daring, +and skill, on the part of a handful of men!" + +Tom and I smiled as at one who dreams golden impossibilities. + +"Laugh if you will," said she; "but tell me this: what is the soul of +the rebellion? What is the one vital part its life depends on? The +different rebel provinces hate and mistrust one another--what holds +'em together? The rebel Congress quarrels and plots, and issues money +that isn't worth the dirty paper it's printed on; disturbs its army, +and does no good to any one--what keeps the rebellion afoot in spite +of it? The rebel army complains, and goes hungry and half-naked, and +is full of mutiny and desertion--what still controls it from melting +away entirely? What carries it through such Winters as the rebels had +at Valley Forge, when the Congress, the army, and the people were all +at sixes and sevens and swords' points? What raises money the Lord +knows how, finds supplies the Lord knows where, induces men to stay in +the field, by the Lord knows what means, and has got such renown the +world over that now France is the rebels' ally? I make you stare, +boys; you're not used to seeing me play the orator. I never did +before, and I sha'n't again, for heaven forbid I should be a woman of +that kind! But I've studied this matter, and I hope I have a few ideas +upon it." + +"But what has done all these things you mention? May I ask that?" said +I, both amused and curious. + +"Washington!" was her reply. "Remove him, and this rebellion will +burst like a soap-bubble! And that's the last of my speechmaking. Our +project is to remove Washington--nay, there's no assassination in it. +We'll do better--capture him and send him to England. Once he is in +the Tower awaiting trial, how long do you think the rebellion will +last? And what rewards do you think there'll be for those that sent +him there?" + +"Why," said Tom, "is that a new project? Hasn't the British army been +trying to wipe out Washington's army and take him prisoner these four +years?" + +"But not in the way that we have planned it," replied Margaret, "and +that Captain Falconer shall execute it. Tell them, captain." + +"'Tis very simple, gentlemen," said the English officer. "If the +honour of the execution is to be mine, and the men's whom I shall +lead, the honour of the design, and of securing the necessary +collusion in the rebel camp, is Mrs. Winwood's. My part hitherto has +been, with Sir Henry Clinton's approval, to make up a chosen body of +men from all branches of the army; and my part finally shall be to +lead this select troop on horseback one dark night, by a devious +route, to that part of the rebel lines nearest Washington's quarters; +then, with the coöperation that this lady has obtained among the +rebels, to make a swift dash upon those quarters, seize Washington +while our presence is scarce yet known, and carry him back to New York +by outriding all pursuit. Boats will be waiting to bring us across the +river. I allow such projects have been tried before, but they have +been defeated through rebel sentries giving the alarm in time. They +lacked one advantage we possess--collusion in the rebel camp--" + +"And 'twas you obtained that collusion?" Tom broke in, turning to +Margaret. "Hang me if I see how you in New York--oh, but I do, though! +Through brother Ned!" + +"You're a marvel at a guess," quoth she. + +"Ay, ay! But how did you carry on your correspondence with him? 'Twas +he, then, originated this scheme?" + +"Oh, no; 'twas no such thing! The credit is all mine, if you please. I +make no doubt, he _would_ have originated it, if he had thought of it. +But a sister's wits are sometimes as good as a brother's--remember +that, Tom. For I had the wit not only to devise this project, but to +know from the first that Ned's reason for joining the rebels was, that +he might profit by betraying them." + +"Ay, we might have known as much, Bert," said Tom. "But we give you +all credit for beating us there, sister." + +"Thank you! But the rascal never saw the way to his ends, I fancy; for +he's still in good repute in the rebel army. And when I began to think +of a way to gain--to gain the honour of aiding the king's cause, you +know, I saw at once that Ned might help me. Much as we disliked each +other, he would work with me in this, for the money 'twould bring him. +And I had 'lighted upon something else, too--quite by chance. A +certain old person I know of has been serving to carry news from a +particular Whig of my acquaintance (and neither of 'em must ever come +to harm, Captain Falconer has sworn) to General Washington." (As was +afterward made sure, 'twas old Bill Meadows, who carried secret word +and money from Mr. Faringfield and other friends of the rebellion.) +"This old person is very much my friend, and will keep my secrets as +well as those of other people. So each time he has gone to the rebel +camp, of late--and how he gets there and back into New York uncaught, +heaven only knows--he has carried a message to brother Ned; and +brought back a reply. Thus while he knowingly serves the rebel cause, +he ignorantly serves ours too, for he has no notion of what my brother +and I correspond about. And so 'tis all arranged. Through Ned we have +learned that the rebel light horse troop under Harry Lee has gone off +upon some long business or other, and, as far as the army knows, may +return to the camp at any time. All that our company under Captain +Falconer has to do, then, is to ride upon a dark night to a place +outside the rebel pickets, where Ned will meet them. How Ned shall +come there unsuspected, is his own affair--he swears 'tis easy. He +will place himself at the head of our troop, and knowing the rebel +passwords for the night, as well as how to speak like one of Major +Lee's officers, he can lead our men past the sentries without alarm. +Our troop will have on the blue greatcoats and the caps the rebel +cavalry wear--General Grey's men took a number of these last year, and +now they come into use. And besides our having all these means of +passing the rebel lines without hindrance, Ned has won over a number +of the rebels themselves, by promising 'em a share of the great reward +the parliament is sure to vote for this business. He has secured some +of the men about headquarters to our interest." + +"What a traitor!" quoth Tom, in a tone of disgust. + +"Why, sure, we can make use of his treason, without being proud of him +as one of the family," said Margaret. "The matter now is, that Captain +Falconer offers you two gentlemen places in the troop he has chosen." + +"The offer comes a little late, sir," said Tom, turning to the +captain. + +"Why, sir," replied Falconer, "I protest I often thought of you two. +But the risk, gentlemen, and your youth, and my dislike of imperilling +my friends--however, take it as you will, I now see I had done better +to enlist you at the first. The point is, to enlist you now. You shall +have your commander's permission; General Clinton gives me my choice +of men. 'Twill be a very small company, gentlemen; the need of silence +and dash requires that. And you two shall come in for honour and pay, +next to myself--that I engage. 'Twill make rich men of us three, at +least, and of your brother, sir; while this lady will find herself the +world's talk, the heroine of the age, the saviour of America, the +glory of England. I can see her hailed in London for this, if it +succeed; praised by princes, toasted by noblemen, envied by the ladies +of fashion and the Court, huzza'd by the people in the streets and +parks when she rides out--" + +"Nay, captain, you see too far ahead," she interrupted, seeming ill at +ease that these things should be said before Tom and me. + +"A strange role, sure, for Captain Winwood's wife," said Tom; "that of +plotter against his commander." + +"Nay," she cried, quickly, "Captain Winwood plays a strange rôle for +Margaret Faringfield's husband--that of rebel against her king. For +look ye, I had a king before he had a commander. Isn't that what you +might call logic, Tom?" + +"'Tis an unanswerable answer, at least," said Captain Falconer, +smiling gallantly. "But come, gentlemen, shall we have your aid in +this fine adventure?" + +It was a fine adventure, and that was the truth. The underhand work, +the plotting and the treason involved, were none of ours. 'Twas +against Philip Winwood's cause, but our cause was as much to us as his +was to him. The prospect of pay and honour did not much allure us; but +the vision of that silent night ride, that perilous entrance into the +enemy's camp, that swift dash for the person of our greatest foe, that +gallop homeward with a roused rebel cavalry, desperate with +consternation, at our heels, quite supplanted all feelings of slight +in not having been invited earlier. Such an enterprise, for young +fellows like us, there was no staying out of. + +We gave Captain Falconer our hands upon it, whereupon he told us he +would be at the pains to secure our relief from regular duty on the +night set for the adventure--that of the following Wednesday--and +directed us to be ready with our horses at the ferry at six o'clock +Wednesday evening. The rebel cavalry caps and overcoats were to be +taken to the New Jersey side previously, and there put on, this +arrangement serving as precaution against our disguise being seen +within our lines by some possible rebel spy who might thereupon +suspect our purpose and find means of preceding us to the enemy's +camp. + +Tom and I saw the English captain and Margaret take the road toward +the town, whereupon we resumed our ride Northward. I could note the +lad's relief at being able to account for his sister's secret meeting +with Falconer by a reason other than he had feared. + +"By George, though," he broke out presently, "'tis plaguey strange +Margaret should grow so active in loyalty! I never knew her zeal to be +very great for any cause of a public nature. 'Tisn't like her; rabbit +me if it is!" + +"Why," quoth I, "maybe it's for her own purposes, after all--the +reward and the glory. You know the pleasure she takes in shining." + +"Egad, that's true enough!" And Tom's face cleared again. + +Alas, I knew better! Besides the motive I had mentioned, there had +been another to stimulate her wits and industry--the one her words, +overheard by me alone, had betrayed too surely--the desire of +enriching and advancing Captain Falconer. Well, she was not the first +woman, nor has been the last, scheming to pour wealth and honour into +a man's lap, partly out of the mere joy of pleasing him, partly in +hope of binding him by gratitude, partly to make him seem in the +world's eyes the worthier her devotion, and so to lessen her demerit +if that devotion be unlawful. + +"Poor Philip!" thought I. "Poor Philip! And what will be the end of +this?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_Winwood Comes to See His Wife._ + + +'T were scarce possible to exaggerate the eagerness with which +Margaret looked forward to the execution of the great project. Her +anticipations, in the intensity and entirety with which they possessed +her, equalled those with which she had formerly awaited the trip to +England. She was now as oblivious of the festivities arising from the +army's presence, as she had been of the town's tame pleasures on the +former occasion. She showed, to us who had the key to her mind, a +deeper abstraction, a more anxious impatience, a keener foretaste (in +imagination) of the triumphs our success would bring her. Her +favourable expectations, of course, seesawed with fears of failure; +and sometimes there was preserved a balance that afflicted her with a +most irritating uncertainty, revealed by petulant looks and tones. But +by force of will, 'twas mainly in the hope of success that she passed +the few days between our meeting in the glade and the appointed +Wednesday evening. + +"Tut, sister," warned Tom, with kind intention, "don't raise yourself +so high with hope, or you may fall as far with disappointment." + +"Never fear, Tom; we can't fail." + +"It looks all clear and easy, I allow," said he; "but there's many a +slip, remember!" + +"Not two such great slips to the same person," she replied. "I had my +share of disappointment, when I couldn't go to London. This war, and +my stars, owe me a good turn, dear." + +But when, at dusk on Wednesday evening, Tom and I took leave of her in +the hall, she was trembling like a person with a chill. Her eyes +glowed upon us beseechingly, as if she implored our Herculean +endeavours in the attempt now to be made. + +We had to speak softly to one another, lest Mr. Faringfield might hear +and infer some particular enterprise--for we were not to hazard the +slightest adverse chance. Captain Falconer had been away from his +quarters all day, about the business of the night, and would not +return till after its accomplishment. Thus we two were the last to be +seen of her, of those bound to the adventure; and so to us were +visible the feelings with which she regarded the setting forth of our +whole company upon the project she had designed, for which she had +laboriously laid preparations even in the enemy's camp, and from which +she looked for a splendid future. Were it realised, she might defy Mr. +Faringfield and Philip: they would be nobodies, in comparison with +her: heroines belong to the whole world, and may have their choice of +the world's rewards: they may go where they please, love whom they +please, and no father nor husband may say them nay. Though I could not +but be sad, for Philip's sake, at thought of what effect our success +might have upon her, yet for the moment I seemed to view matters from +her side, with her nature, and for that moment I felt that to +disappoint her hopes would be a pity. + +As for myself (and Tom was like me) my cause and duty, not Margaret's +private ambitions, bade me strive my utmost in the business; and my +youthful love of danger sent me forth with a most exquisite thrill, as +into the riskiest, most exhilarating game a man can play. So I too +trembled a little, but with an uplifting, strong-nerved excitement far +different from the anxious tremor of suspense that tortured Margaret. + +"For pity's sake, don't fail, boys!" she said, as if all rested upon +us two. "Think of me waiting at home for the news! Heaven, how slow +the hours will pass! I sha'n't have a moment's rest of mind or body +till I know!" + +"You shall know as soon as we can get back to New York," said I. + +"Ay--if we are able to come back," added Tom, with a queer smile. + +She turned whiter, and new thoughts seemed to sweep into her mind. But +she drove them back. + +"Hush, Tom, we mustn't think of that!" she whispered. "No, no, it +can't come to that! But I shall be a thousand times the more anxious! +Good night!--that's all I shall say--good night and a speedy and safe +return!" + +She caught her brother's head between her hands, bestowed a fervent +kiss upon his forehead, swiftly pressed my fingers, and opened the +door for us. + +We passed out into the dark, frosty evening. There was snow on the +ground but none in the air. We mounted our waiting horses, waved back +a farewell to the white-faced, white-handed figure in the doorway; and +started toward the ferry. Margaret was left alone with her +fast-beating heart, to her ordeal of mingled elation and doubt, her +dread of crushing disappointment, her visions of glorious triumph. + +At the ferry we reported to Captain Falconer, who was expeditiously +sending each rider and horse aboard one of the waiting flat-boats as +soon as each arrived. Thus was avoided the assemblage, for any length +of time, of a special body of horsemen in the streets--for not even +the army, let alone the townspeople, should know more of our setting +forth than could not be hid. The departure of those who were to embark +from the town was managed with exceeding quietness and rapidity. +Captain Falconer and the man who was to guide us to Edward +Faringfield's trysting-place were the last to board. + +Upon rounding the lower end of the town, and crossing the Hudson to +Paulus Hook, which post our troops had reoccupied after the rebel +capture of its former garrison, we went ashore and were joined by men +and horses from up the river, and by others from Staten Island. We +then exchanged our hats for the caps taken from the rebel cavalry, +donned the blue surtouts, and set out; Captain Falconer and the guide +riding at the head. + +For a short distance we kept to the Newark road, but, without +proceeding to that town, we deviated to the right, and made +Northwestwardly, the purpose being to pass through a hiatus in the +semicircle of rebel detached posts, turn the extremity of the main +army, and approach Morristown--where Washington had his +headquarters--from a side whence a British force from New York might +be the less expected. + +Each man of us carried a sword and two pistols, having otherwise no +burden but his clothes. At first we walked our horses, but presently +we put them to a steady, easy gallop. The snow on the ground greatly +muffled the sound of our horses' footfalls, and made our way less +invisible than so dark a night might have allowed. But it made +ourselves also the more likely to be seen; though scarce at a great +distance nor in more than brief glimpses, for the wind raised clouds +of fine snow from the whitened fields, the black growth of tree and +brush along the road served now as curtain for us, now as background +into which our outlines might sink, and a stretch of woods sometimes +swallowed us entirely from sight. Besides, on such a night there would +be few folk outdoors, and if any of these came near, or if we were +seen from farmhouses or village windows, our appearance of rebel horse +would protect our purpose. So, in silence all, following our captain +and his guide, we rode forward to seize the rebel chief, and make +several people's fortunes. + +I must now turn to Philip Winwood, and relate matters of which I was +not a witness, but with which I was subsequently made acquainted in +all minuteness. + +We had had no direct communication with Philip since the time after +our capture of Mr. Cornelius, who, as every exchange of prisoners had +passed him by, still remarked upon parole at Mr. Faringfield's. If Mr. +Faringfield received news of Winwood through his surreptitious +messenger, Bill Meadows, he kept it to himself, naturally making a +secret of his being in correspondence with General Washington. + +Though Philip knew of Meadows's perilous employment, he would not risk +the fellow's discovery even to Margaret, and so refrained from laying +upon him the task of a message to her. How she found out what Meadows +was engaged in, I cannot guess, unless it was that, unheeded in the +house as she was unheeding, she chanced to overhear some talk between +her father and him, or to detect him in the bringing of some letter +which she afterward took the trouble secretly to peep into. Nor did I +ever press to know by what means she had induced him to serve as +messenger between her and Ned, and to keep this service hidden from +her father and husband and all the world. Maybe she pretended a desire +to hear of her husband without his knowing she had so far softened +toward him, and a fear of her father's wrath if he learned she made +Ned her correspondent in the matter. Perhaps she added to her gentler +means of persuasion a veiled threat of exposing Meadows to the British +if he refused. In any event, she knew that, once enlisted, he could be +relied on for the strictest obedience to her wishes. It needed not, in +his case, the additional motive for secrecy, that a knowledge of his +employment on Margaret's business would compromise him with General +Washington and Mr. Faringfield. + +How Meadows contrived to meet Ned, to open the matter to him, to +convey the ensuing correspondence, to avoid discovery upon this matter +in the rebel camp, as he avoided it upon Washington's business in New +York, is beyond me: if it were not, I should be as skilful, as fit for +such work, as Meadows himself. 'Tis well-known now what marvellously +able secret agents Washington made use of; how to each side many of +them had to play the part of spies upon the other side; how they were +regarded with equal suspicion in both camps; and how some of them +really served their enemies in order finally to serve their friends. +More than one of them, indeed, played a double game, receiving pay +from both sides, and earning it from both, each commander conceiving +himself to be the one benefited. In comparison with such duplicity, +the act of Meadows, in undertaking Margaret's private business as a +secret matter adjunctive to his main employment, was honesty itself. + +'Tis thus explained why, though Margaret might communicate with her +brother in the enemy's camp, she got no word from her husband there. +But his thoughts and his wishes had scarce another subject than +herself. The desire to see her, possessed him more and more wholly. He +imagined that her state of mind must in this be a reflection of his +own. Long ago her anger must have died--nay, had it not passed in that +farewell embrace when she held up her face to invite his kiss? The +chastening years of separation, the knowledge of his toils and +dangers, must have wrought upon her heart, to make it more tender to +him than ever. She must grieve at their parting, long for his +home-coming. So convinced was he of such feelings on her part, that he +pitied her for them, felt the start of many a tear in sorrow for her +sorrow. + +"Poor girl!" he thought. "How her face would gladden if I were to walk +into her presence at this moment!" + +And the thought gave birth to the resolution. The joy of such a +meeting was worth a thousand risks and efforts. + +His first step was to get leave of absence and General Washington's +permission to enter New York. The former was quickly obtained, the +latter less so. But if he failed to demonstrate to the commander the +possible profit of his secretly visiting the enemy's town, he +convinced him that the entrance was not too difficult to one who knew +the land so well, and who could so easily find concealment. +Sympathising with Philip's private motive in the case, trusting him +implicitly, and crediting his ability to take care of himself in even +so perilous a matter, Washington finally gave consent. + +Philip rode in proper manner from the rebel camp, bound apparently +Southward, as if perchance he bore despatches to the rebel civil +authorities at Philadelphia. Once out of observation, he concealed his +uniform cap and outer coat, and provided himself at a New Jersey +village with an ordinary felt hat, and a plain dark overcoat. He then +turned from the Southward road, circled widely about the rebel camp, +and arrived at a point some distance north of it. Here, in a +hospitable farmhouse, he passed the night. The next day, he rode +Eastward for the Hudson River, crossing undiscovered the scanty, +ill-patrolled line of rebel outposts, and for the most part refraining +from use of the main roads, deserted as these were. By woods and +by-ways, he proceeded as best the snow-covered state of the country +allowed. 'Twas near dusk on the second day, when he came out upon the +wooded heights that looked coldly down upon the Hudson a few miles +above the spot opposite the town of New York. + +He looked across the river and Southeastward, knowing that beyond the +low hills and the woods lay the town, and that in the town was +Margaret. Then he rode back from the crest of the cliff till he came +to the head of a ravine. Down this he led his beast, arriving finally +at the narrow strip of river-bank at the cliff's foot. He followed +this some distance Southward, still leading the horse. 'Twas not yet +so dark that he could not make out a British sloop-of-war, and further +down the river the less distinct outline of a frigate, serving as +sentinels and protectors of this approach to the town. From these he +was concealed by the bushes that grew at the river's edge. + +At last he turned into the mouth of a second ravine, and, rounding a +sharp side-spur of the interrupted cliff, came upon a log hut built +upon a small level shelf of earth. At one end of this structure was a +pent-roof. Philip tied his horse thereunder, and, noting a kind of dim +glow through the oiled paper that filled the cabin's single window, +gave two double knocks followed by a single one, upon the plank door. +This was soon opened, and Philip admitted to the presence of the +single occupant, an uncouth fellow, fisherman and hunter, whose +acquaintance he had made in patrolling the New Jersey side at the head +of his troop. The man was at heart with the rebels, and Winwood knew +with whom he had to deal. Indeed Philip had laid his plans carefully +for this hazardous visit, in accordance with his knowledge of the +neighbourhood and of what he might rely upon. + +"I wish to borrow one of your canoes, Ellis," said he, "and beg your +attention to my horse, which is in the shed. Be so kind as to give it +feed, and to cover it with a blanket if you have such a thing. But +leave it in the shed, and ready saddled; I may have to ride in a +hurry. I sha'n't need you with me in the canoe--nor any supper, I +thank you, sir." + +For the man, with the taciturn way of his kind, had motioned toward +some pork frying at a fire. With no thought to press, or to question, +he replied: + +"I'll fetch the canoe down the gully, cap'n. You stay here and warm +yourself a minute. And don't worry about your hoss, sir." + +A few minutes later, Philip was launched upon the dark current of the +Hudson, paddling silently toward the Eastern shore. Darkness had now +fallen, and he trusted it to hide him from the vigilance of the +British vessels whose lights shone dim and uncertain down the river. + +Much larger craft landed much larger crews within our lines, on no +darker nights--as, for one case, when the Whigs came down in +whaleboats and set fire to the country mansion of our General De +Lancey at Bloomingdale. Philip made the passage unseen, and drew the +canoe up to a safe place under some bushes growing from the face of a +low bluff that rose from the slight beach. His heart galloped and +glowed at sense of being on the same island with his wife. He was +thrilled to think that, if all went well, within an hour or two he +should hold her in his arms. + +He saw to the priming of his pistols, and loosened the sword that hung +beneath his overcoat; and then he glided some way down the strip of +beach. Coming to a convenient place, he clambered up the bluff, to a +cleared space backed by woods. + +"Who goes there?" + +'Twas the voice of a man who had suddenly halted in the clearing, +half-way between the woods and the crest of the bluff. The snow on the +ground enabled the two to descry each other. Winwood saw the man raise +a musket to his shoulder. + +"A word with you, friend," said Philip, and strode swiftly forward ere +the sentinel (who was a loyalist volunteer, not a British regular) had +the wit to fire. Catching the musket-barrel with one hand, Winwood +clapped his pistol to the soldier's breast with the other. + +"Now," says he, "if you give a sound, I'll send a bullet through you. +If I pass here, 'twill bring you no harm, for none shall know it but +us two. Let go your musket a moment--I'll give it back to you, man." + +A pressure of the pistol against the fellow's ribs brought obedience. +Philip dropped the musket, and, with his foot, dug its lock into the +snow, spoiling the priming. + +"Now," he continued, "I'll leave you, and remember, if you raise an +alarm, you'll be blamed for not firing upon me." + +Whereupon Philip dashed into the woods, leaving the startled sentinel +to pick up his musket and resume his round as if naught had occurred. +The man knew that his own comfort lay in secrecy, and his comfort +outweighed his military conscience. + +Through woods and fields Winwood proceeded, skirted swamps and ponds, +and waded streams, traversing old familiar ground, the sight of which +brought back memories of countless holiday rambles in the happy early +days. Margaret's bright face and merry voice, her smiles, and her +little displays of partiality for him, were foremost in each +recollection; and that he was so soon to see her again, appeared too +wonderful for belief. He went forward in the intoxication of joy, +singing to himself as a boy would have done. + +He knew where there were houses and barns to avoid, and where there +were most like to be British cantonments. At length he was so near the +town, that he was surprised to have come upon no inner line of +sentries. Even as he wondered, he emerged from a copse into a field, +and received the usual challenge--spoken this time in so quick, +machine-like a manner, and accompanied by so prompt and precise a +levelling of the musket, that he knew 'twas a British regular he had +to deal with. + +He made a pretence of raising a pistol to shoot down the sentry. This +brought the sentry's fire, which--as it too was of a British regular +of those days--Philip felt safe in risking. But though the shot went +far wide, he gave a cry as if he had been hit, and staggered back into +the woods. He was no sooner within its cover, than he ran swiftly +Eastward with all possible silence. He had noted that the sentry had +been pacing in that direction; hence the first of the sentry's +comrades to run up would be the one approaching therefrom. This would +leave a break in the line, at that part of it East of the scene of the +alarm. Philip stopped presently; peered forth from the woods, saw the +second sentry hasten with long steps Westward; and then made a dash +across the latter's tracks, bending low his body as he went. He thus +reached a cover of thicket, through which he forced his way in time to +emerge toward the town ere any results of the alarming gun-shot were +manifest. + +Unless he were willing to attempt crossing what British defences he +knew not, or other impediments that might bar passage to the town +elsewhere than at the Bowery lane entrance, he must now pass the guard +there, which served for the town itself as the outer barriers at +Kingsbridge served for the whole island of Manhattan. He chose the +less tedious, though more audacious alternative of facing the guard. + +He could not employ in this case the method used in passing the shore +patrol, or that adopted in crossing the line of sentinels above the +town; for here the road was the only open way through, it was flanked +by a guardhouse, it was lighted by a lantern that hung above the door, +and the sentinels were disciplined men. Philip gathered these facts in +a single glance, as he approached by slinking along the side of the +road, into which he had crawled, through a rail fence, from an +adjoining field. + +He was close upon the sentinels who paced before the guardhouse, ere +he was discovered. For the third time that night, he heard the +challenge and saw the threatening movement. + +"All's well," he replied. "I'll give an account of myself." And he +stepped forward, grasping one of his pistols, not by the breech, but +by the barrel. + +"Stop where you are!" said the sentry, menacingly. + +Philip stood still, raised the pistol, flung it at the lantern, and +instantly dropped to his knees. The sentinel's musket flashed and +cracked. Total darkness ensued. Philip glided forward between the two +men, his footfalls drowned by the sound of their curses. When past +them, he hurled his remaining pistol back over his shoulder toward a +mass of bushes on the further side of the sentinels. Its descent +through the brush had some sound of a man's leap, and would, he hoped, +lead the enemy to think he might have escaped in that direction. By +the time the noise of a commotion reached him, with orders to turn out +the guard, he was past the building used as a prison for his fellow +rebels, and was hastening along the side of the common--now diverted +to camp uses of the British as it had been to those of the +rebels--able to find the rest of his way in Egyptian blackness. He +knew what alleys to take, what short cuts to make by traversing +gardens, what ways were most like to be deserted. The streets in the +part of the town through which he had to pass were nearly empty, the +taverns, the barracks, and most of the officers' quarters being +elsewhere. And so, with a heart elated beyond my power of expression, +he leaped finally into the rear garden of the Faringfield mansion, and +strode, as if on air, toward the veranda. + +He had guessed that the family would be in the smaller parlour, or the +library, and so he was not surprised to see all the lower windows dark +that were visible from the direction of his approach. But, which gave +him a thrill of delightful conjecture, two upper windows shone with +light--those above the great parlour and hence belonging to one of the +chambers formerly occupied by Margaret and him. He knew no reason why +his wife should not still retain the same rooms. She would, then, be +there, and probably alone. He might go to her while none was present +to chill their meeting, none before whom her pride might induce her to +conceal the completeness of her reconciliation, or to moderate the joy +of her greeting. Would she weep? Would she laugh? Would she cry out? +Would she merely fall into his arms with a glad smile and cling in a +long embrace under his lingering kiss? He trembled like a schoolboy as +he climbed the trellis-work to enter by a window. + +Creeping up the sloping, snow-covered roof of the veranda, he came at +length to the window, and looked in. The chamber was empty, but the +door was ajar that led to the apartment in front, used as a +sitting-room. She must be in that room, for his first glance had +recognised many of her trinkets and possessions in the first chamber. +He asked himself if the years had changed her: they would have made +her a little graver, doubtless. + +He opened the window so slowly that the noise was scarce perceptible. +Then he clambered over the ledge into the chamber; strode tiptoe +toward the next room, catching a mirrored glimpse of his face as he +passed her dressing-table--the most joyous, eager face in the world. +He pushed the door further open, and stepped across the threshold. She +was there, in the centre of the room, standing in meditation, her face +turned by chance toward the door through which he entered. + +"My dear," said he, in a voice scarce above a whisper; and started +toward her, with arms held out, and (I am sure) a very angel's smile +of joy and love upon his face. + +She opened her eyes and lips in wonder, and then stood pale and rigid +as marble, and made a faint gesture to check his approach. As he +halted in astonishment, his joy dying at her look, she whispered +hoarsely: + +"You! You, of all men? And to-night, of all nights!" + +'Twas the night of our setting forth upon her great design of seizing +his commander-in-chief. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_Their Interview._ + + +Philip took note, at the time, rather of her look than of her words. + +"Why, dear," said he, "don't be frightened. Tis I, Philip--'tis not my +ghost." + +"Yes, 'tis you--I know that well enough." + +"Then--" he began, and stepped toward her. + +But she retreated with such a movement that he stopped again. + +"What's the matter?" he questioned. "Why do you look so?--This is +scarce the welcome I had imagined." + +"Why are you here?" she asked, in a low voice, regarding him steadily. +"How did you come? What does it mean?" + +"It means I love you so much, I could stay no longer from seeing you. +I came by horse, boat, and foot. I passed the British sentries." + +"You risked your life, then?" + +"Oh, of course. If they caught me inside their lines, they would hang +me as a spy. But--" + +She could not but be touched at this. "Poor Philip!" she murmured, +with a tremor in her voice. + +"Not poor," said he, "now that I am with you--if you would not draw +back, and look so. What is wrong? Am I--unwelcome?" + +She saw that, to be true to her design, to her elaborate plan for the +future, she must not soften toward him--for his reappearance, with the +old-time boyish look and manner, the fond expression now wistful and +alarmed, the tender eyes now startled and affrighted, revived much +that had been dormant in her heart, and made Captain Falconer seem a +very far-off and casual person. Against the influence of Philip's +presence, and the effect of his having so imperilled himself to see +her, she had to arm herself with coldness, or look upon the success of +her project as going for naught to her advantage. She dared not +contemplate the forfeit; so she hardened her heart. + +"Why," she said, with a forced absence of feeling, "so many years have +passed--so many things have happened--you appear so much a stranger--" + +"Stranger!" echoed he. "Why, not if you had thought of me half as +constantly as I have of you! You have been in my mind, in my heart, +every hour, every minute since that day--Can it be? Is it my Margaret +that stands there and speaks so? So unmoved to see me! So cold! Oh, +who would have expected this?" + +He sat down and gazed wretchedly about the room, taking no cognisance +of what objects his sight fell upon. Margaret seated herself, with a +sigh of annoyance, and regarded him with a countenance of displeasure. + +"Margaret, do you mean what you say?" he asked, after a short silence. + +"I'm sure you shouldn't blame me," said she. "You enabled me to learn +how to endure your absence. You stayed away all these years. Naturally +I've come to consider you as--" + +"Nay, don't attempt to put me in the wrong. My heart is as warm to you +as ever, in spite of the years of absence. Those years have made no +change in me. Why should they have changed you, then? No--'tis not +their fault if you are changed, nor mine neither. There is something +wrong, I see. Be frank, dear, and tell me what it is. You need not be +afraid of me--you know I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head. Oh, +sweetheart, what has come between us? Tell me, I beg!" + +"Why, nothing, of course--nothing but the gulf that time has widened. +That's all--sure 'tis enough." + +"But 'tis more than that. Were that all, and I came back to you thus, +a minute's presence would bridge that gulf. All the old feelings would +rush back. Why, if I were but a mere acquaintance whom you had once +known in a friendly way, you wouldn't have greeted me so coldly. There +would have been cordiality, smiles, a warm clasp of the hand, +questions about my health and doings, at least a curiosity as to how I +had passed the years. But you meet me, not merely with lack of warmth, +but with positive coldness. Nay, you were shocked, startled, +frightened! You turned white, and stood still as if you saw a spirit, +or as if you were caught in some crime! Yes, 'twas for all the world +like that! And what was't you said? It passed me then, I was so amazed +at my reception--so different from the one I had pictured all the way +thither, all the weeks and months. What was't you said?" + +"Some word of surprise, I suppose; something of no meaning." + +"Nay, it had meaning, too. I felt that, though I put it aside for the +time. Something about the night--ah, yes: 'to-night of all nights.' +And me of all men. Why so? Why to-night in particular? Why am I the +most inconvenient visitor, and why _to-night_? Tell me that! Tell +me--I have the right to know!" + +"Nay, if you work yourself up into a fury so--" + +"'Tis no senseless fury, madam! There's reason at the bottom of it, my +lady! I must know, and I will know, what it is that my visit +interferes with. You were not going out, I can see by your dress. Nor +expecting company. Unless--no, it couldn't be that! You're not capable +of that! You are my wife, you are Margaret Faringfield, William +Faringfield's daughter. God forgive the mistrust--yet every husband +with an imagination has tortured himself for an instant sometime with +that thought, suppose his wife's heart _might_ stray? I've heard 'em +confess the thought; and even I--but what a hell it was for the moment +it lasted! And how swiftly I put it from me, to dwell on your +tenderness in the old days, your pride that has put you above the +hopes of all men but me, the unworthy one you chose to reach down your +hand to from your higher level!" + +"So you have harboured _that_ suspicion, have you?" she cried, with +flashing eyes. + +"No, no; harboured it never! Only let my perverse imagination 'light, +for the space of a breath, on the possibility, to my unutterable +torment. All men's fancies play 'em such tricks now and then, to +torture them and take down their vanity. Men would rest too easy in +their security, were it not so." + +"A man that suspects his wife, deserves to lose her allegiance," cried +Margaret, with a kind of triumphant imputation of blame, which was her +betrayal. + +He gazed at her with the dawning horror of half-conviction. + +"Then I have lost yours?" he asked, in a tone stricken with doubt and +dread. + +"I didn't say so," she replied, reddening. + +"But your words imply that. You seemed to be justifying yourself by my +suspicion. But there was no suspicion till now--nothing but a +tormenting fancy of what I believed impossible. So you cannot excuse +yourself that way." + +"I'm not trying to excuse myself. There's nothing to excuse." + +"I'm not sure of that! Your manner looks as if you realised having +said too much--having betrayed yourself. Margaret, for God's sake, +tell me 'tis not so! Tell me my fears are wrong! Assure me I have not +lost you--no, no, I won't even ask you. 'Tis not possible. I won't +believe it of you--that you could be inconstant! Forgive me, +dear--your strange manner has so upset me--but forgive me, I beg, and +let me take you in my arms." He had risen to approach her. + +"No, no! Don't. Don't touch me!" she cried, rising in turn, for +resistance. She kept her mind fixed upon the expected rewards of her +project, and so fortified herself against yielding. + +"By heaven, I'll know what this means!" he cried. He looked wildly +about the room, as if the explanation might somewhere there be found. +Her own glance went with his, as if there might indeed be some +evidence, which she must either make shift to conceal, or invent an +innocent reason for its presence. Her eye rested an instant upon a +book that lay on the table. Philip noted this, picked up the book, +turned the cover, and read the name on the first leaf. + +"'Charles Falconer.' Who is he?" + +[Illustration: "'HE IS A--AN ACQUAINTANCE.'"] + +"No matter," she said quickly, and made to snatch the book away. "He +is a--an acquaintance. He is quartered in the house, in fact--a +British officer." + +"An acquaintance? But why do you turn red? Why look so confused? Why +try to take the book away from me? Oh, my God, it is true! it is +true!" He dropped the volume, sank back upon a chair, and regarded her +with indescribable grief. + +"Why," she blundered, "a gentleman may lend a lady a novel--" + +"Oh, the lending is nothing! 'Twas your look and action when I read +his name. 'Tis your look now, your look of guilt. Oh, to see that +flush of discovered shame on _your_ face! You care for this man, I can +see that!" + +"Well, what if I do?" + +"Then you confess it? Oh, can it be you that say this?--you that stand +there with eyes that drop before mine for shame--nay, eyes that you +raise with defiance! Brazen--oh, my God, my God, tell me 'tis all a +mistake! Tell me I wrong you, dear; that you are still mine, my +Margaret, my Madge--little Madge, that found me a home that day I came +to New York; my pretty Madge, that cried when I was going to leave on +Ned's account; that I loved the first moment I saw her, and--always--" + +He broke down at this, and leaned forward upon the table, covering his +face with his hands. When he next looked up, with haggard countenance, +he saw her lips twitching and tears in her eyes. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a flash of hope, and half rose to go to her. + +"No, no! Let me alone!" she cried, escaping narrowly from that +surrender to her feelings which would have meant forfeiting the fruits +of her long planning. + +His mood changed. + +"I'll not endure this," he cried, rising and pacing the floor. "You'll +find I'm no such weakling, though I can weep for my wife when I lose +her love. _He_ shall find it so, too! I understand now what you meant +by 'to-night of all nights.' He was to meet you to-night. He's +quartered in the house, you say. He was to slink up, no doubt, when +all were out of the way--your father divines little of this, I'll +warrant. Well, he may come--but he shall find _me_ waiting at my +wife's door!" + +"You'll wait in vain, then. He is very far from here to-night." + +"I'll believe that when it's proven. I find 'tis well that I, 'of all +men,' came here to-night." + +"Nay, you're mistaken. You had been more like to find him to-night +where you came from, than where you've come to." + +How true it is that a woman may always be relied on to say a word too +much--whether for the sake of a taunt, or the mere necessity of giving +an apt answer, I presume not to decide. + +"What can that mean?" said he, arrested by the peculiarity of her tone +and look. "Find him where I came from? Why, that's our camp. What does +he do there, 'to-night of all nights?' Explain yourself." + +"Nothing at all. I spoke without thinking." + +"The likelier to have spoken true, then! So your--acquaintance--might +be found in our camp to-night? Charles Falconer, a British officer. I +can't imagine--not as a spy, surely. Oho! is there some expedition? +Some attack, some midnight surprise? This requires looking into." + +"I fear you will not find out much. And if you did, it would be too +late for you to carry a warning." + +"The expedition has too great a start of me--is that what you mean? +That's to be seen. I might beat Mr. Falconer in this, as he has beaten +me--elsewhere. I know the Jersey roads better than I have known my +wife's heart, perchance. What is this expedition?" + +"Do you think I would tell you--if there were one?" + +"I'm satisfied there is some such thing. But I doubt no warning of +mine is needed, to defeat it. Our army is alert for these night +attempts. We've had too many of 'em. If there be one afoot to-night, +so much the worse for those engaged in it." + +This irritated her; and she never used the skill to guard her speech, +at her calmest; so she answered quickly: + +"Not if it's helped by traitors in your camp!" + +"What?--But how should you, a woman, know of such a matter?" + +"You'll see, when the honours are distributed." + +"This is very strange. You are in this officer's confidence, perhaps. +He is unwise to trust you so far--you have told me enough to--" + +"There's no more need of secrecy. Captain Falconer's men are well on +their way to Morristown. Even if you got out of our lines as easily as +you got in, you could only meet our troops returning with your +general." + +Doubtless she conceived that by taunting him, at this safe hour, with +this prevision of her success, she helped the estrangement which she +felt necessary to her enjoyment of her expected rewards. + +"Oho!" quoth he, with a bitter, derisive laugh. "Another attempt to +seize Washington! What folly!" + +"Not when we are helped by treason in your camp, as I said before. +Folly, is it? You'll sing another song to-morrow!" + +She smiled with anticipated triumph, and the smile had in it so much +of the Madge of other days, that his bitterness forsook him, and +admiration and love returned to sharpen his grief. + +"Oh, Madge, dear, could I but win you back!" he murmured, wistfully. + +"What, in that strain again!" she said, petulant at each revival of +the self-reproach his sorrow caused in her. + +"Ay, if I had but the chance! If I might be with you long enough, if I +might reawaken the old tenderness!--But I forget; treason in our camp, +you say. There is danger, then--ay, there's always the possibility. +The devil's in it, that I must tear myself from you now; that I must +part with you while matters are so wrong between us; that I must leave +you when I would give ten years of life for one hour to win your love +back! But you will take my hand, let me kiss you once--you will do +that for the sake of the old times--and then I will be gone!" + +"Be gone? Where?" + +"Back to camp, of course, to give warning of this expedition." + +"'Tis impossible! Tis hours--" + +"'Tis not impossible--I will outride them. They wouldn't have started +before dark." + +"You would only overtake them, at your best. Do you think they would +let you pass?" + +"Poh! I know every road. I can ride around them. I'll put the army in +readiness for 'em, treason or no treason! For the present, good-bye--" + +The look in his face--of power and resolution--gave her a sudden sense +of her triumph slipping out of her grasp. + +"You must not go!" she cried, quite awakened to the peril of the +situation to her enterprise. + +"I must! Good-bye! One kiss, I beg!" + +"But you sha'n't go!" As he came close to her, she clasped him tightly +with both arms. She made no attempt to avoid his kiss, and he, taking +this for acquiescence, bestowed the kiss upon unresponsive lips. + +"Now let me go," said he, turning to stride toward the door by which +he had entered from the rear chamber. + +"No, no! Stay. Time to win back my love, you said. Take the time now. +You may find me not so difficult of winning back. Nay, I have never +ceased to love you, at the bottom of my heart. I love you now. You +shall stay." + +"I must not, I dare not. Oh, I would to God I could believe you! But +whether 'tis true, or a device to keep me here, I will not stay. Let +me go!" + +"I will not! You will have to force me from you, first! I tell you I +love you--my husband!" + +"If you love me, you will let me go." + +"If you love me, you will stay." + +"Not a moment--though God knows how I love you! I will come to see you +soon again." + +"If you go now, I will never let you see me again!--Nay, you must drag +me after you, then!" + +He was moving toward the door despite her hold; and now he caught her +wrists to force open the clasp in which she held him. + +"Oh! you are crushing my arms!" she cried. + +"Ay, the beautiful, dear arms--God bless them! But let me go, then!" + +"I won't! You will have to kill me, first! You shall not spoil my +scheme!" + +"Yours!" + +"Yes, mine! Mine, against your commander, against your cause!" She was +wrought up now to a fury, at the physical force he exerted to release +himself; and for the time, swayed by her feelings only, she let policy +fly to the winds. "Your cause that I hate, because it ruined my hopes +before! You are a fool if you think my being your wife would have kept +me from fighting your hateful cause. I became your wife that I might +go to England, and when that failed I was yours no longer. Love +another? Yes!--and you shall not spoil his work and mine--not unless +you kill me!" + +For a moment his mental anguish, his overwhelming shame for her, +unnerved him, and he stared at her with a ghastly face, relaxing his +pressure for freedom. But this weakness was followed by a fierce +reaction. His countenance darkened, and with one effort, the first +into which he had put his real strength, he tore her arms from him. +White-faced and breathing fast, with rage and fear of defeat, she ran +to a front window, and flung it open. + +"By heaven, I'll stop you!" she cried. "Help! A rebel--a spy! Ah, you +men yonder--this way! A rebel spy!" + +Philip looked over her head, out of the window. Far up the street +swaggered five or six figures which, upon coming under a corner lamp +whose rays yellowed a small circle of snow, showed to be those of +British soldiers. Their unaltered movements evidenced that they had +not heard her cry. Thereupon she shouted, with an increased voice: + +"Soldiers! Help! Surround this house! A rebel--" + +She got no further, for Philip dragged her away from the window, and, +when she essayed to scream the louder, he placed one hand over her +mouth, the other about her neck. Holding her thus, he forced her into +the rear chamber, and then toward the window by which he meant to +leave. At its very ledge he let her go, and made to step out to the +roof of the veranda. But she grasped his clothes with the power of +rage and desperation, and set up another screaming for help. + +In an agony of mind at having to use such painful violence against a +woman, and how much more so against the wife he still loved; and at +the grievous appearance that she was willing to sacrifice him upon the +British gallows rather than let him mar her purpose, he flung her away +with all necessary force, so that, with a final shriek of pain and +dismay, she fell to the floor exhausted. + +He cast an anguished glance upon her, as she lay defeated and +half-fainting; and, knowing not to what fate he might be leaving her, +he moaned, "God pity her!" and stepped out upon the sloping roof. He +scrambled to the edge, let himself half-way down by the trellis, +leaped the rest of the distance, and ran through the back garden from +the place he had so well loved. + +While his wife, lying weak upon the floor of her chamber, gazed at the +window through which he had disappeared, and, as if a new change had +occurred within her, sobbed in consternation: + +"Oh, what have I done? He is a man, indeed!--and I have lost him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_Wherein Captain Winwood Declines a Promotion._ + + +Philip assumed that the greatest risk would lie in departing the town +by the route over which he had made his entrance, and in which he had +left a trail of alarm. His best course would be in the opposite +direction. + +Therefore, having leaped across the fence to the alley behind the +Faringfield grounds, he turned to the right and ran; for he had +bethought him, while fleeing through the garden, that he might +probably find a row-boat at the Faringfield wharves. He guessed that, +as the port of New York was open to all but the rebel Americans and +their allies the French, Mr. Faringfield would have continued his +trade in the small way possible, under the British flag, that his loss +by the war might be the less, and his means of secretly aiding the +rebel cause might be the more. So there would still be some little +shipping, and its accessories, at the wharves. + +Though the British occupation had greatly changed the aspect of the +town by daylight, it had not altered the topography of that part which +Philip had to traverse, and the darkness that served as his shield was +to him no impediment. Many a time, in the old days, we had chased and +fled through those streets and alleys, in make-believe deer-hunts or +mimic Indian warfare. So, without a collision or a stumble, he made +his way swiftly to the mouth of a street that gave upon the +water-front, by the Faringfield warehouse where so many busy days of +his boyhood and youth had passed, and opposite the wharves. + +He paused here, lacking knowledge whether the river front was guarded +or not. He saw no human being, but could not be sure whether or not +some dark form might emerge from the dimness when he should cross to +the wharves. These, like the street and the roofs, were snow-covered. +Aloft beyond them, but close, two or three faint lights, tiny yellow +islets in a sea of gloom, revealed the presence of the shipping on +which he had counted. He could hear the slap of the inky water against +the piles, but scarce another sound, save his own breathing. + +He formed the intention of making a noiseless dash across the +waterside street, with body bent low, to the part of the wharf where a +small boat was most like to be. He was standing close to one side of a +wooden building that fronted toward the wharf. + +He sprang forward, and, just as he passed the corner of the edifice, +his head struck something heavy but yielding, which toppled over +sidewise with a grunt, and upon which Philip fell prone, forcing from +it a second grunt a little less vigorous than the first. 'Twas a human +body, that had come from the front of the house at the same instant in +which Philip had darted from along the side. + +"Shall I choke him to assure silence?" Phil hurriedly asked himself, +and instinctively made to put his hands to the man's neck. But the +body under him began to wriggle, to kick out with its legs, and to lay +about with its hands. + +"What the hell d'yuh mean?" it gasped. "Git off o' me!" + +Philip scrambled promptly to his feet, having recognised the voice. + +"I'll stake my life, it's Meadows!" + +"Yes, it is, and who in the name of hellfire an' brimstone--?" + +"Hush, Bill! Don't you know my voice? Let me help you up. There you +are. I'm Philip Winwood!" + +"Why, so y'are, boy! Excuse the way I spoke. But what on airth--?" + +"No matter what I'm doing here. The thing is to get back to camp. +Come! Is the wharf a safe place for me?" + +"Yes, at this hour of a dark night. But I'd like to know--" + +"Keep with me, then," whispered Philip, and made for the wharf, +holding the old watchman's arm. "Show me where there's a small boat. I +must row to the Jersey side at once, and then ride--by heaven, I wish +I might get a horse, over there, without going as far as Dan Ellis's! +I left mine with him." + +"Mebbe I can get you a hoss, yonder," said Meadows. "An' I reckon I +can row you round an' acrost, 'thout their plaguey ships a-spyin' us." + +"Then, by the Lord," said Philip, while Meadows began letting himself +down the side of the wharf to the skiff which he knew rode there upon +the black water, "'tis enough to make one believe in miracles, my +running into you! What were you doing out so late?" + +"Mum, sir! I was jest back from the same camp you're bound fur. +'Tain't five minutes since I crawled up out o' this yer skift." + +"What! And did you meet a party going the other way--toward our camp, +I mean?" + +"Ay," replied Meadows, standing up in the boat and guiding the legs of +Philip as the latter descended from the wharf. "I watched 'em from the +patch o' woods beyont Westervelt's. I took 'em to be Major Lee's men, +or mebbe yours, from their caps and plumes; but I dunno: I couldn't +see well. But if they was goin' to the Morristown camp, they was goin' +by a roundabout way, fur they took the road to the right, at the fork +t'other side o' them woods!" + +"Good, if 'twas a British troop indeed! If I take the short road, I +may beat 'em. Caps and plumes like ours, eh! Here, I'll pull an oar, +too; and for God's sake keep clear of the British ships." + +"Trust me, cap'n. I guess they ain't shifted none since I come acrost +awhile ago. I'll land yuh nearest where we can get the hoss I spoke +of. 'Tis the beast 'ut brung me from the camp--but mum about that." +The two men moved at the oars, and the boat shot out from the sluggish +dock-water to the live current, down which it headed. "Don't you +consarn yerse'f about them ships--'tis the dark o' the moon an' a +cloudy night, an' as fur our course, I could _smell_ it out, if it +come to that!" + +They rounded the end of the town, and turned into the Hudson, gliding +black over the surface of blackness. They pulled for some distance +against the stream, so as to land far enough above our post at Paulus +Hook. Going ashore in a little cove apparently well-known to Meadows, +they drew up the boat, and hastened inland. Meadows had led the way +about half a mile, when a dark mass composed of farmhouse and +outbuildings loomed up before them. + +"Here's where the hoss is; Pete Westervelt takes keer of him," +whispered the watchman, and strode, not to the stables, but to the +door of what appeared to be an outer kitchen, which he opened with a +key of his own. A friendly whinny greeted him from the narrow dark +space into which he disappeared. He soon came out, leading the horse +he used in his journeys to and from the American camp, and bearing +saddle and bridle on his arm. The two men speedily adjusted these, +whereupon Philip mounted. + +"Bring or send the beast back by night," said Meadows, handing over +the key, with which he had meanwhile relocked the door of his +improvised stable. "Hoss-flesh is damn' skeerce these times." This was +the truth, the needs of the armies having raised the price of a horse +to a fabulous sum. + +Philip promised to return the horse or its equivalent; gave a swift +acknowledgment of thanks, and a curt good-night; and made off, leaving +old Meadows to foot it, and row it, once more back to New York. + +'Twas now, till he should reach the camp, but a matter of steady +galloping, with ears alert for the sound of other hoof-beats, eyes +watchful at crossroads and open stretches for the party he hoped to +forestall. While he had had ways and means to think of, and had been +in peril of detection by the British, or in doubt of obtaining a horse +without a long trudge to Ellis's hut, his mind had been diverted from +the unhappy interview with Margaret. But now that swept back into his +thoughts, inundating his soul with grief and shame, of the utmost +degree of bitterness. These were the more complete from the +recollection of the joyous anticipations with which he had gone to +meet her. + +Contemplation of this contrast, sense of his desertion, overcame his +habitual resistance to self-pity, a feeling against which he was +usually on the stronger guard for his knowledge that it was a +concomitant of his inherent sensibility. He quite yielded to it for a +time; and though 'twas sharpened by his comparison of the Margaret he +had just left, with the pretty, soft-smiling Madge of other days, that +comparison eventually supplanted self-pity with pity for her, a +feeling no less laden with sorrow. + +He dared not think of what her perverseness might yet lead her to. For +himself he saw nothing but hopeless sorrow, unless she could be +brought back to her better self. But, alas, he by whose influence that +end might be achieved--for he could not believe that her heart had +quite cast him out--was flying from her, and years might pass ere he +should see her again: meanwhile, how intolerable would life be to him! +His heart, with the instinct of self-protection, sought some interest +in which it might find relief. + +He thought of the cause for which he was fighting. That must suffice; +it must take the place of wife and love. Cold, impersonal, inadequate +as it seemed now, he knew that in the end it would suffice to fill +great part of that inner heart which she had occupied. He turned to it +with the kindling affection which a man ever has for the resource that +is left him when he is scorned elsewhere. And he felt his ardour for +it fanned by his deepened hate for the opposing cause, a hate +intensified by the circumstance that his rival was of that cause. For +that rival's sake, he hated with a fresh implacability the whole royal +side and everything pertaining to it. He pressed his teeth together, +and resolved to make that side pay as dearly as lay in him to make it, +for what he had lost of his wife's love, and for what she had lost of +her probity. + +And the man himself, Falconer! 'Twas he that commanded this night's +wild attempt, if she had spoken truly. Well, Falconer should not +succeed this night, and Philip, with a kind of bitter elation, thanked +God 'twas through him that the attempt should be the more utterly +defeated. He patted his horse--a faithful beast that had known but a +short rest since it had travelled over the same road in the opposite +direction--and used all means to keep it at the best pace compatible +with its endurance. Forward it sped, in long, unvarying bounds, seeing +the road in the dark, or rather in the strange dusky light yielded by +the snow-covered earth and seeming rather to originate there than to +be reflected from the impenetrable obscurity overhead. + +From the attempt which he was bent upon turning into a ridiculous +abortion, if it lay in the power of man and horse to do so, Philip's +thoughts went to the object of that attempt, Washington himself. He +was thrilled at once with a greater love and admiration for that firm +soul maintaining always its serenity against the onslaughts of men and +circumstance, that soul so unshakable as to seem in the care of Fate +itself. Capture Washington! Philip laughed at the thought. + +And yet a British troop had seized General Charles Lee when he was the +rebels' second in command, and, in turn, a party of Yankees had taken +the British General Prescott from his quarters in Rhode Island. True, +neither of these officers was at the time of his seizure as safely +quartered and well guarded as Washington was now; but, on the other +hand, Margaret had spoken of treachery in the American camp. Who were +the traitors? Philip hoped he might find out their chief, at least. + +It was a long and hard ride, and more and more an up-hill one as it +neared its end. But Philip's thoughts made him so often unconscious of +his progress, and of the passage of the hours, that he finally +realised with a momentary surprise that he had reached a fork of the +road, near which he should come upon the rebel pickets, and that the +night was far spent. He might now take one road, and enter the camp at +its nearest point, but at a point far from Washington's headquarters; +or he might take the other road and travel around part of the camp, so +as to enter it at a place near the general's house. 'Twas at or near +the latter place that the enemy would try to enter, as they would +surely be so directed by the traitors within the camp. + +Heedless of the apparent advantage of alarming the camp at the +earliest possible moment, at whatever part of it he could then reach, +he felt himself impelled to choose the second road. He ever afterward +held that his choice of this seemingly less preferable road was the +result of a swift process of unconscious reasoning--for he maintained +that what we call intuition is but an instantaneous perception of +facts and of their inevitable inferences, too rapid for the reflective +part of the mind to record. + +He felt the pressure of time relaxed, for a troop of horse going by +the circuitous route Meadows had indicated could not have reached the +camp in the hours since they had passed the place where Meadows had +seen them. So he let his horse breathe wherever the road was broken by +ascents. At last he drew up, for a moment, upon an eminence which +gave, by daylight, a wide view of country. Much of this expanse being +clear of timber, and clad in snow, it yielded something to a +night-accustomed eye, despite the darkness. A low, far-off, steady, +snow-muffled beating, which had imperceptibly begun to play on +Winwood's ear, indicated a particular direction for his gaze. +Straining his senses, he looked. + +Against the dusky-white background of snow, he could make out an +indistinct, irregular, undulating line of moving dark objects. He +recognised this appearance as the night aspect of a distant band of +horsemen. They were travelling in a line parallel to his own. +Presently, he knew, they would turn toward him, and change their +linear appearance to that of a compact mass. But he waited not for +that. He gently bade his horse go on, and presently he turned straight +for the camp, having a good lead of the horsemen. + +He was passing a little copse at his right hand, when suddenly a dark +figure stepped from behind a tree into the road before him. Thinking +this was a soldier on picket duty, he recollected the word of the +night, and reined in to give it upon demand. But the man, having +viewed him as well as the darkness allowed, seemed to realise having +made a mistake, and, as suddenly as he had appeared, stalked back into +the wood. + +"What does this mean?" thought Philip; and then he remembered what +Margaret had said of treachery. Was this mysterious night-walker a +traitor posted there to aid the British to their object? + +"Stop or I'll shoot you down!" cried Philip, remembering too late that +he had parted with both his pistols at the Bowery lane guard-house. + +But the noise of the man's retreat through the undergrowth told that +he was willing to risk a shot. + +Philip knew the importance of obtaining a clue to the traitors. The +rebels had suffered considerably from treachery on their own side; had +been in much danger from the treason of Doctor Church at Boston; had +owed the speedier loss of their Fort Washington to that of Dumont; and +(many of them held) the retreat which Washington checked at Monmouth, +to the design of their General Charles Lee. So the capture of this +man, apart from its possible effect upon the present business, might +lead to the unearthing of a nest of traitors likely at some future +time, if not to-night, to menace the rebel cause. + +Philip leaped from his horse, and, trusting to the animal's manifest +habit of awaiting orders, stopped not to tie it, but plunged directly +into the wood, drawing his sword as he went. + +The sound of the man's flight had ceased, but Philip continued in the +direction it had first taken. He was about to cross a row of low +bushes, when he unexpectedly felt his ankle caught by a hand, and +himself thrown forward on his face. The man had crouched amongst the +bushes and tripped him up as he made to pass. + +The next moment, the man was on Philip's back, fumbling to grasp his +neck, and muttering: + +"Tell me who you are, quick! Who are you from? You don't wear the +dragoon cap, I see. Now speak the truth, or by God I'll shoot your +head off!" + +Philip knew, at the first word, the voice of Ned Faringfield. It took +him not an instant to perceive who was a chief--if not _the_ +chief--traitor in the affair, or to solve what had long been to him +also a problem, that of Ned's presence in the rebel army. The +recognition of voice had evidently not been mutual; doubtless this was +because Philip's few words had been spoken huskily. Retaining his +hoarseness, and taking his cue from Ned's allusion to the dragoon cap, +he replied: + +"'Tis all right. You're our man, I see. Though I don't wear the +dragoon cap, I come from New York about Captain Falconer's business." + +"Then why the hell didn't you give the word?" said Ned, releasing his +pressure upon Philip's body. + +"You didn't ask for it. Get up--you're breaking my back." + +Ned arose, relieving Philip of all weight, but stood over him with a +pistol. + +"Then give it now," Ned commanded. + +"I'll be hanged if you haven't knocked it clean out of my head," +replied Philip. "Let me think a moment--I have the cursedest memory." + +He rose with a slowness, and an appearance of weakness, both mainly +assumed. He still held his sword, which, happily for him, had turned +flat under him as he fell. When he was quite erect, he suddenly flung +up the sword so as to knock the pistol out of aim, dashed forward with +all his weight, and, catching Ned by the throat with both hands, bore +him down upon his side among the briars, and planted a knee upon his +neck. Instantly shortening his sword, he held the point close above +Ned's eye. + +"Now," said Phil, "let that pistol fall! Let it fall, I say, or I'll +run my sword into your brain. That's well. You traitor, shall I kill +you now? or take you into camp and let you hang for your treason?" + +Ned wriggled, but finding that Philip held him in too resolved a +grasp, gave up. + +"Is it you, brother Phil?" he gasped. "Why, then, you lied; you said +you came from New York, about Falconer's business. I'd never have +thought _you'd_ stoop to a mean deception!" + +"I think I'd better take you to hang," continued Philip. "If I kill +you now, we sha'n't get the names of the other traitors." + +"You wouldn't do such an unbrotherly act, Phil! I know you wouldn't. +You've too good a heart. Think of your wife, my sister--" + +"Ay, the traitress!" + +"Then think of my father; think of the mouth that fed you--I mean the +hand that fed you! You'll let me go, Phil--sure you'll let me go. +Remember how we played together when we were boys. I'll give you the +names of the other traitors. I'm not so much to blame: I was lured +into this--lured by your wife--so help me God, I was--and you're +responsible for her, you know. _You_ ought to be the last man in the +world--" + +Philip's mood had changed at thought of Ned's father; the old man's +pride of the name, his secret and perilous devotion to the rebel +cause: he deserved better of that cause than that his son should die +branded as a traitor to it; and better of Phil than that by his hand +that son should be slain. + +"How can you let me have the names without loss of time, if I let you +go, on condition of your giving our army a wide berth the rest of your +days?" Philip asked, turning the captive over upon his back. + +"I can do it in a minute, I swear," cried Ned. "Will you let me go if +I do?" + +"If I'm convinced they're the right names and all the names; but if +so, and I let you go, remember I'll see you hanged if you ever show +your face in our army again." + +"Rest easy on that. I take you at your word. The names are all writ +down in my pocketbook, with the share of money each man was to get. If +I was caught, I was bound the rest should suffer, too. The book is in +my waistcoat lining--there; do you feel it? Rip it out." + +Philip did so, and, sitting on Ned's chest, with a heel ready to beat +in his skull at a treacherous movement, contrived to strike a light +and verify by the brief flame of the tow the existence of a list of +names. As time was now of ever-increasing value, Philip took it for +granted that the list was really what Ned declared it. He then +possessed himself of Ned's pistol, and rose, intending to conduct him +as far as to the edge of the camp, and to release him only when Philip +should have given the alarm, so that Ned could not aid the approach of +Falconer's party. But Philip had no sooner communicated this intention +than Ned suddenly whipped out a second pistol from his coat pocket, in +which his hand had been busy for some time, and aimed at him. Thanks +to a spoiled priming, the hammer fell without effect. + +"You double traitor!" cried Philip, rushing upon Ned with threatening +sword. But Ned, with a curse, bent aside, and, before Philip could +bring either of his weapons into use, grappled with him for another +fall. The two men swayed together an instant; then Philip once more +shortened his sword and plunged the point into Ned's shoulder as both +came down together. + +"God damn your soul!" cried Ned, and for the time of a breath hugged +his enemy the tighter. But for the time of a breath only; the hold +then relaxed; and Philip, rising easily from the embrace of the limp +form, ran unimpeded to the road, mounted the waiting horse, and +galloped to the rebel lines. + +When our party, all the fatigue of the ride forgotten in a thrill of +expectation, reached the spot where Ned Faringfield was to join us, +our leader's low utterance of the signal, and our eager peerings into +the wood, met no response. As we stood huddled together, there broke +upon us from the front such a musketry, and there forthwith appeared +in the open country at our left such a multitude of mounted figures, +that we guessed ourselves betrayed, and foresaw ourselves surrounded +by a vastly superior force if we stayed for a demonstration. + +"'Tis all up, gentlemen!" cried Captain Falconer, in a tone of +resignation, and without even an oath; whereupon we wheeled in +disappointment and made back upon our tracks; being pursued for some +miles, but finally abandoned, by the cavalry we had seen, which, as we +did not learn till long afterward, was led by Winwood. We left some +dead and wounded near the place where we had been taken by surprise; +and some whose horses had been hurt were made prisoners. + +For his conduct in all this business, an offer was made to Philip of +promotion to a majority; but he firmly declined it, saying that he +owed the news of our expedition to such circumstances that he chose +not, in his own person, to profit by it.[6] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_The Bad Shilling Turns up Once More in Queen Street._ + + +"This will be sad news to Mrs. Winwood, gentlemen," said Captain +Falconer to Tom and me, as we rode toward the place where we should +take the boats for New York. The day was well forward, but its gray +sunless light held little cheer for such a silent, dejected crew as we +were. + +The captain was too much the self-controlled gentleman to show great +disappointment on his own account, though he had probably set store +upon this venture, as an opportunity that he lacked in his regular +duties on General Clinton's staff, where he served pending the delayed +enlistment of the loyalist cavalry troop he had been sent over to +command. But though he might hide his own regrets, now that we were +nearing Margaret, it was proper to consider our failure with reference +to her. + +"Doubtless," he went on, "there was treachery against us somewhere; +for we cannot suppose such vigilance and preparation to be usual with +the rebels. But we must not hint as much to her. The leak may have +been, you see, through one of the instruments of her choosing--the man +Meadows, perhaps, or--" (He stopped short of mentioning Ned +Faringfield, whose trustworthiness on either side he was warranted, by +much that he had heard, in doubting.) "In any case," he resumed, +"'twould be indelicate to imply that her judgment of men, her +confidence in any one, could have been mistaken. We'd best merely tell +her, then, that the rebels were on the alert, and fell upon us before +we could meet her brother." + +We thought to find her with face all alive, expectant of the best +news, or at least in a fever of impatience, and that therefore 'twould +be the more painful to tell her the truth. But when the captain's +servant let the three of us in at the front door (Tom and I had waited +while Falconer briefly reported our fiasco to General Clinton) and we +found her waiting for us upon the stairs, her face was pale with a set +and tragic wofulness, as if tidings of our failure had preceded us. +There was, perhaps, an instant's last flutter of hope against hope, a +momentary remnant of inquiry, in her eyes; but this yielded to +despairing certainty at her first clear sight of our crestfallen +faces. + +"'Twas all for nothing, then?" she said, with a quiet weariness which +showed that her battle with disappointment had been fought and had +left her tired out if not resigned. + +"Yes," said the captain, apparently relieved to discover that no storm +of disappointment or reproach was to be undergone. "They are too +watchful. We hadn't yet come upon your brother, when a heavy fire +broke out upon us. We were lucky to escape before they could surround +us. Nine of our men are missing." + +She gave a shudder, then came to us, kissed Tom with more than +ordinary tenderness, grasped my hand affectionately, and finally held +the captain's in a light, momentary clasp. + +"You did your best, I'm sure," she said, in a low voice, at the same +time flashing her eyes furtively from one to another as if to detect +whether we hid any part of the news. + +We were relieved and charmed at this resigned manner of receiving our +bad tidings, and it gave me, at least, a higher opinion of her +strength of character. This was partly merited, I make no doubt; +though I did not know then that she had reason to reproach herself for +our failure. + +"And that's all you have to tell?" she queried. "You didn't discover +what made them so ready for a surprise?" + +"No," replied the captain, casually. "Could there have been any +particular reason, think you? To my mind, they have had lessons enough +to make them watchful." + +She looked relieved. I suppose she was glad we should not know of her +interview with Philip, and of the imprudent taunts by which she +herself had betrayed the great design. + +"Well," said she. "They may not be so watchful another time. We may +try again. Let us wait until I hear from Ned." + +But when she stole an interview with Bill Meadows, that worthy had no +communication from Ned; instead thereof, he had news that Captain +Faringfield had disappeared from the rebel camp, and was supposed by +some to have deserted to the British. Something that Meadows knew not +at the time, nor I till long after, was of the treasonable plot +unearthed in the rebel army, and that two or three of the participants +had been punished for the sake of example, and the less guilty ones +drummed out of the camp. This was the result of Philip's presentation +to General Washington of the list of names obtained from Ned, some of +the men named therein having confessed upon interrogation. Philip's +account of the affair made it appear to Washington that his discovery +was due to his accidental meeting with Ned Faringfield, and that +Faringfield's escape was but the unavoidable outcome of the +hand-to-hand fight between the two men--for Philip had meanwhile +ascertained, by a personal search, that Ned had not been too severely +hurt to make good his flight. + +Well, there passed a Christmas, and a New Year, in which the +Faringfield house saw some revival of the spirit of gladness that had +formerly prevailed within its comfortable walls at that season. Mr. +Faringfield, who had grown more gray and taciturn each year, mellowed +into some resemblance to his former benevolent, though stately, self. +He had not yet heard of Ned's treason. His lady, still graceful and +slender, resumed her youth. Fanny, who had ever forced herself to the +diffusion of merriment when there was cheerlessness to be dispelled, +reflected with happy eyes the old-time jocundity now reawakened. My +mother, always a cheerful, self-reliant, outspoken soul, imparted the +cordiality of her presence to the household, and both Tom and I +rejoiced to find the old state of things in part returned. Margaret, +perhaps for relief from her private dejection, took part in the +household festivities with a smiling animation that she had not +vouchsafed them in years; and Captain Falconer added to their gaiety +by his charming wit, good-nature, and readiness to please. Yet he, I +made no doubt, bore within him a weight of dashed hopes, and could +often have cursed when he laughed. + +The happy season went, leaving a sweeter air in the dear old house +than had filled it for a long time. All that was missing, it seemed to +us who knew not yet as much as Margaret knew, was the presence of +Philip. Well, the war must end some day, and then what a happy +reunion! By that time, if Heaven were kind, I thought, the charm of +Captain Falconer would have lost power over Margaret's inclinations, +and all would be well that ended well. + +One night in January, we had sat very late at cards in the Faringfield +parlour, and my mother had just cried out, "Dear bless me, look at the +clock!"--when there sounded a dull, heavy pounding upon the rear hall +door. There were eight of us, at the two card-tables: Mr. Faringfield +and his lady, my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Mr. Cornelius, Tom, and +myself. And every one of us, looking from face to face, showed the +same thought, the same recognition of that half-cowardly, half-defiant +thump, though for so long we had not heard it. How it knocked away the +years, and brought younger days rushing back upon us! + +Mr. Faringfield's face showed a sweep of conjectures, ranging from +that of Ned's being in New York in service of his cause, to that of +his being there as a deserter from it. Margaret flushed a moment, and +then composed herself with an effort, for whatever issue this +unexpected arrival might portend. The rest of us waited in a mere +wonder touched with the old disquieting dread of painful scenes. + +Old Noah, jealous of the single duty that his years had left him, and +resentful of its frequent usurpation by Falconer's servant, always +stayed up to attend the door till the last of the family had retired. +We now heard him shuffling through the hall, heard the movement of the +lock, and then instantly a heavy tread that covered the sound of +Noah's. The parlour door from the hall was flung open, and in strode +the verification of our thoughts. + +Ned's clothes were briar-torn and mud-spattered; his face was haggard, +his hair unkempt, his left shoulder humped up and held stiff. He +stopped near the door, and stared from face to face, frowning because +of the sudden invasion of his eyes by the bright candlelight. When his +glance fell upon Margaret, it rested; and thereupon, just as if he +were not returned from an absence of three years and more, and +heedless of the rest of us, confining his address to her alone, he +bellowed, with a most malignant expression of face and voice: + +"So you played a fine game with us, my lady--luring us into the dirty +scheme, and then turning around and setting your husband on us in the +act! I see through it all now, you underhanded, double-dealing slut!" + +"Are you speaking to me, sir?" asked Margaret, with dignity. + +"Of course I am; and don't think I'll hold my tongue because of these +people. Let 'em hear it all, I don't care. It's all up now, and I'm a +hanged man if ever I go near the American camp again. But I'm safe +here in New York, though I was damn' near being shot when I first came +into the British lines. But I've been before General Knyphausen,[7] +and been identified, and been acknowledged by your Captain Falconer as +the man that worked your cursed plot at t'other end; and I've been let +go free--though I'm under watch, no doubt. So you see there's naught +to hinder me exposing you for what you are--the woman that mothered a +British plot, and worked her trusting brother into it, and then +betrayed him to her husband." + +"That's a lie!" cried Margaret, crimson in the face. + +"What does all this mean?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, rising. + +Paying no attention to his father, Edward retorted upon Margaret, who +also rose, and who stood between him and the rest of us: + +"A lie, is it? Perhaps you can make General Knyphausen and Captain +Falconer believe that, now I've told 'em whose cursed husband it was +that attacked me at the meeting-place, and alarmed the camp. You +didn't think I'd live to tell the tale, did you? You thought to hear +of my being hanged, and your husband promoted for his services, and so +two birds killed with one stone! But providence had a word to say +about that. The Lord is never on the side of plotters and traitors, +let me tell you, and here I am to outface you. A lie, is it? A lie +that your husband spoiled the scheme? Why, you brazen hussy, he came +from New York that very night--he told me so himself! He had seen you, +and you had told him all, I'll lay a thousand guineas!" + +'Twas at the time a puzzle to me that Margaret should condescend to +explanations with him as she forthwith did. But I now see how, +realising that proofs of Philip's visit might turn up and seem to bear +out Ned's accusation, she must have felt the need of putting herself +instantly right with Tom and me, lest she might eventually find +herself wrong with General Clinton and Captain Falconer. + +"I own that Philip saw me that night," she said, with a self-control +compelled by her perilous situation. "He came here by stealth, and +took me by surprise. He found reason to suspect our plot, but till now +I never knew 'twas really he that put the rebels on their guard. I +thought he would be too late. 'Twas through no intention of mine that +he guessed what was afoot. I never told Tom and Bert" (these words +were meant for our ears) "--or Captain Falconer--of his visit, for +fear they might think, as you seem to, that I was to blame. That's all +the truth, and we shall see whether Captain Falconer will believe you +or me." + +Here Mr. Faringfield, whose patience at being so far ignored, though +'twas supported by the hope of receiving the desired enlightenment +from their mutual speeches, was at length exhausted, put in with some +severity. + +"Pray, let us into these mysteries, one of you. Margaret, what is it I +hear, of a visit from Philip? of a British plot? By heaven, if I +thought--but explain the matter, if you please." + +"I have no right to," said she, her face more and more suffused with +red. "'Tis not my secret alone; others are concerned." + +"It appears," rejoined Mr. Faringfield, "it is a secret that abides in +my house, and therefore I have a right to its acquaintance. I command +you to explain." + +"Command?" she echoed lightly, with astonishment. "Is a married woman +subject to her father's commands?" + +"An inmate of my house is subject to my commands," he replied, +betraying his hidden wrath by a dark look. + +"I beg your pardon," said she. "That part of the house which Philip +has paid, or will pay, for my living in, is my own, for the time +being. I shall go there--" + +"You shall not leave this room," cried her father, stalking toward the +door. "You fall back upon Philip's name. Very well, he has delegated +the care of you to me in his absence. 'Tis time I should represent his +authority over you, when I hear of your plotting against his country." + +"I have a right to be loyal to the king, above the authority of a +husband." + +"If your loyalty extends to plotting against your husband's cause, you +have not the right under my roof--or under Philip Winwood's part of +it. I will know what this scheme is, that you have been engaged in." + +"Not from me!" said Margaret, with a resolution that gave a new, +unfamiliar aspect to so charmingly feminine a creature. + +"Oh, let her alone, father," put in Ned, ludicrously ready for the +faintest opportunity either to put his father under obligation or to +bring down Margaret. "I'll be frank with you. I've no reason to hide +what's past and gone. She and Captain Falconer had a plan to make +Washington a prisoner, by a night expedition from New York, and some +help in our camp--" + +"Which you were to give, I see, you treacherous scoundrel!" said his +father, with contempt. + +"Oh, now, no hard names, sir. You see, several of us--some good +patriots, too, with the country's best interests at heart--couldn't +swallow this French alliance; we saw that if we ever did win by it, we +should only be exchanging tyrants of our own blood for tyrants of +frog-eaters. We began to think England would take us back on good +terms if the war could be ended; and we considered the state of the +country, the interests of trade--indeed, 'twas chiefly the thought of +_your_ business, the hope of seeing it what it once was, that drove +_me_ into the thing." + +"You wretched hypocrite!" interposed Mr. Faringfield. + +"Oh, well; misunderstand me, as usual. Call me names, if you like. I'm +only telling the truth, and what you wished to know--what _she_ +wouldn't tell you. I'm not as bad as some; I can up and confess, when +all's over. Well, as I was about to say, we had everything ready, and +the night was set; and then, all of a sudden, Phil Winwood swoops down +on me; treats me in a most unbrotherly fashion, I must say" (Ned cast +an oblique look at his embarrassed shoulder); "and alarmed the camp. +And when the British party rode up, instead of catching Washington +they caught hell. And I leave it to you, sir, whether your daughter +there, after playing the traitor to her husband's cause, for the sake +of her lover; didn't turn around and play the traitor to her own game, +for the benefit of her husband, and the ruin of her brother. Such +damnableness!" + +"'For the sake of her lover,'" Mr. Faringfield repeated. "What do you +mean by that, sir?" The phrase, indeed, had given us all a +disagreeable start. + +"What I say, sir. How could he be otherwise? I guessed it before; and +I became sure of it this evening, from the way he spoke of her at +General Knyphausen's quarters." + +"What a lie!" cried Margaret. "Captain Falconer is a gentleman; he's +not of a kind to talk about women who have given him no reason to do +so. 'Tis ridiculous! You maligning villain!" + +"Oh, 'twasn't what he said, my dear; 'twas his manner whenever he +mentioned you. When a man like him handles a woman's name so +delicate-like, as if 'twas glass and might break--so grave-like, as if +she was a sacred subject--it means she's put herself on his +generosity." + +Margaret affected a derisive laugh, as at her brother's pretensions to +wisdom. + +"Oh, I know all the stages," he continued, watching her with a +malicious calmness of self-confidence. "When gentry of his sort are +first struck with a lady, but not very deep, they speak out their +admiration bold and gallant; when they find they're hit seriously, but +haven't made sure of her, they speak of her with make-believe +carelessness or mere respect: they don't like to show how far gone +they are. But when she's come to an understanding with 'em, and put +'em under obligations and responsibilities--it's only then they touch +her name so tender and considerate, as if it was so fragile. But that +stage doesn't last for ever, my young lady--bear that in mind!" + +"You insolent wretch!" said Margaret, ready to cry with rage and +confusion. + +"This is outrageous," ventured Mrs. Faringfield, daring to look her +indignation at Ned. "William, how can you tolerate such things said +about your daughter?" + +But Mr. Faringfield had been studying his daughter's countenance all +the while. Alas for Margaret, she had never given pains to the art of +dissimulation, or taken the trouble to learn hypocrisy, or even +studied self-control: a negligence common to beauties, who rely upon +their charms to carry them through all emergencies without resort to +shifts. She was equal to a necessary lie that had not to be maintained +with labour, or to a pretence requiring little effort and encountering +no suspicion, but to the concealment of her feelings when she was +openly put to the question, her powers were inadequate. If ever a +human face served its owner ill, by apparently confessing guilt, where +only folly existed, Margaret's did so now. + +"What I may think of the rascal who says these things," replied Mr. +Faringfield, with the unnatural quietness that betrays a tumult of +inward feelings, "I will tolerate them till I am sure they are false." +His eyes were still fixed on Margaret. + +"What!" said she, a little hysterically. "Do you pay attention to the +slanders of such a fellow? To an accusation like that, made on the +mere strength of a gentleman's manner of mentioning me?" + +"No, but I pay attention to your manner of receiving the accusation: +your telltale face, your embarrassment--" + +"'Tis my anger--" + +"There's an anger of innocence, and an anger of guilt. I would your +anger had shown more of contempt than of confusion." Alas! he knew +naught of half-guilt and _its_ manifestations. + +"How can you talk so?--I won't listen--such insulting +innuendoes!--even if you are my father--why, this knave himself says I +betrayed Captain Falconer's scheme: how could he think that, if--" + +"That proves nothing," said Ned, with a contemptuous grin. "Women do +unaccountable things. A streak of repentance, maybe; or a lovers' +quarrel. The point is, a woman like you wouldn't have entered into a +scheme like that, with a man like him, if there hadn't already been a +pretty close understanding of another kind. Oh, I know your whole +damn' sex, begad!--no offence to these other ladies." + +"William, this is scandalous!" cried Mrs. Faringfield. My mother, too, +looked what it was not her place to speak. As for Tom and me, we had +to defer to Mr. Faringfield; and so had Cornelius, who was very +solemn, with an uneasy frown between his white eyebrows. Poor Fanny, +most sensitive to disagreeable scenes, sat in self-effacement and mute +distress. + +Mr. Faringfield, not replying to his wife, took a turn up and down the +room, apparently in great mental perplexity and dismay. + +Suddenly he was a transformed man. Pale with wrath, his lips moving +spasmodically, his arms trembling, he turned upon Margaret, grasped +her by the shoulders, and in a choked, half-articulate voice demanded: + +"Tell the truth! Is it so--this shame--crime? Speak! I will shake the +truth from you!" + +"Father! Don't!" she screamed, terrified by his look; and from his +searching gaze, she essayed to hide, by covering her face with her +hands, the secret her conscience magnified so as to forbid confession +and denial alike. I am glad to recall this act of womanhood, which +showed her inability to brazen all accusation out. + +But Mr. Faringfield saw no palliating circumstance in this evidence of +womanly feeling. Seeing in it only an admission of guilt, he raised +his arms convulsively for a moment as if he would strike her down with +his hands, or crush her throat with them. But, overcoming this +impulse, he drew back so as to be out of reach of her, and said, in a +low voice shaken with passion: + +"Go! From my house, I mean--my roof--and from Philip's part of it. +God! that a child of mine should plot against my country, for +England--that was enough; but to be false to her husband, too--false +to Philip! I will own no such treason! I turn you out, I cast you off! +Not another hour in my house, not another minute! You are not my +daughter, not Philip's wife!--You are a thing I will not name! We +disown you. Go, I bid you; let me never see you again!" + +She had not offered speech or motion; and she continued to stand +motionless, regarding her father in fear and sorrow. + +"I tell you to leave this house!" he added, in a slightly higher and +quicker voice. "Do you wait for me to thrust you out?" + +She slowly moved toward the door. But her mother ran and caught her +arm, and stood between her and Mr. Faringfield. + +"William!" said the lady. "Consider--the poor child--your favourite, +she was--you mustn't send her out. I'm sure Philip wouldn't have you +do this, for all she might seem guilty of." + +"Ay, the lad is too kind of heart. So much the worse her treason to +him! She _shall_ go; and you, madam, will not interfere. 'Tis for me +to command. Be pleased to step aside!" + +His passion had swiftly frozen into an implacable sternness which +struck fear to the childish heart of his wife, and she obeyed him +dumbly. Dropping weakly upon a chair, she added her sobs to those of +Fanny, which had begun to break plaintively upon the tragic silence. + +Margaret raised her glance from the floor, in a kind of wistful +leave-taking, to us who looked on and pitied her. + +"Indeed, sir," began Mr. Cornelius softly, rising and taking a step +toward Mr. Faringfield. But the latter cut his good intention short, +by a mandatory gesture and the harshly spoken words: + +"No protests, sir; no intercessions. I am aware of what I do." + +"But at midnight, sir. Think of it. Where can she find shelter at this +hour?" + +"Why," put in my mother, "in my house, and welcome, if she _must_ +leave this one." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Russell," said Margaret, in a stricken voice. "For +the time being, I shall be glad--" + +"For all time, if you wish," replied my mother. "And we shall have +your things moved over tomorrow." + +"By the Lord, sis," cried Ned, with a sudden friendliness quite +astonishing after the part he had taken, and to be accounted for only +by the idea that had struck him, "here's a blessing in disguise! +There's a ship sails next Wednesday--so I found out this evening--and +damn me if you sha'n't go to London with me! That's the kind of a +forgiving brother I am!" + +She had utterly ignored his first words, but when he reached the +point, she looked at him thoughtfully, with a check upon her +resentment. She made no reply, however; but he had not missed her +expression. Tom and I exchanged side glances, remembering Ned's former +wish that he might imitate his Irish friend by taking his sister to +London to catch a fortune with. As for Margaret, as matters stood, it +would be something to go to London, relying on her beauty. I fancied I +saw that thought in her look. + +Mr. Faringfield, who had heard with cold heedlessness my mother's +offer and Ned's, now rang the bell. Noah appeared, with a sad, +affrighted face--he had been listening at the door--and cast a furtive +glance at Margaret, in token of commiseration. + +"Bring Mrs. Winwood's cloak," said Mr. Faringfield to the old negro. +"Then open the door for her and Mr. Edward." + +While Noah was absent on this errand, and Margaret waited passively, +Tom went to her, kissed her cheek, and then came away without a word. + +"You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear," said Mrs. +Faringfield, in tears, "and we can see you every day." + +"Certainly, for the present," replied Margaret, who did not weep, but +spoke in a singularly gentle voice. + +"And I, too, for to-night, with my best thanks," added Ned, who had +not been invited, but whom my mother preferred not to refuse. + +Noah brought in the cloak, and placed it around Madge with an unusual +attentiveness, prolonging the slight service to its utmost possible +length, and keeping an eye for any sign of relenting on the part of +his master. + +My mother and I stood waiting for Margaret, while Mrs. Faringfield and +Fanny weepingly embraced her. That done, and with a good-night for Tom +and Mr. Cornelius, but not a word or a look for her father, who stood +as silent and motionless as marble, she laid her hand softly upon my +arm, and we went forth, leaving my mother to the unwelcome escort of +Ned. The door closed upon us four--'twas the last time it ever closed +upon one of us--and in a few seconds we were at our steps. And who +should come along at that moment, on his way to his quarters, but +Captain Falconer? He stopped, in pleased surprise, and, peering at our +faces in the darkness, asked in his gay, good-natured way what fun was +afoot. + +"Not much fun," said Margaret. "I have just left my father's house, at +his command." + +He stood in a kind of daze. As it was very cold, we bade him good +night, and went in. Reopening the door, and looking out, I saw him +proceeding homeward, his head averted in a meditative attitude. I knew +not till the next day what occurred when he arrived in the Faringfield +hall. + +"Sir," said Tom Faringfield, stepping forth from where he had been +leaning against the stair-post, "I must speak low, because my parents +and sister are in the parlour there, and I don't wish them to hear--" + +"With all my heart," replied Falconer. "Won't you come into my room, +and have a glass of wine?" + +"No, sir. If I had a glass of wine, I should only waste it by throwing +it in your face. All I have to say is, that you are a scoundrel, and I +desire an opportunity to kill you as soon as may be--" + +"Tut, tut, my dear lad--" + +"I'll think of a pretext, and send my friend to you to-morrow," added +Tom, and, turning his back, went quietly up-stairs to his room; where, +having locked the door, he fell face forward upon his bed, and cried +like a heart-broken child. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_In Which There Is a Flight by Sea, and a Duel by Moonlight._ + + +It appeared, from Ned Faringfield's account of himself, that after his +encounter with Philip, and his fall from the shock of his wound, he +had awakened to a sense of being still alive, and had made his way to +the house of a farmer, whose wife took pity on him and nursed him in +concealment to recovery. He then travelled through the woods to Staten +Island, where, declaring himself a deserter from the rebel army, he +demanded to be taken before the British commander. + +Being conveyed to headquarters in the Kennedy House, near the bottom +of the Broadway, he told his story, whereupon witnesses to his +identity were easily found, and, Captain Falconer having been brought +to confront him, he was released from bodily custody. He must have had +a private interview with Falconer, and, perhaps, obtained money from +him, before he came to the Faringfield house to vent his +disappointment upon Madge. Or else he had got money from some other +source; he may have gambled with what part of his pay he received in +the early campaigns. He may, on some occasion, have safely violated +Washington's orders against private robbery under the cover of war. He +may have had secret dealings with the "Skinners" or other unattached +marauders. In any case, his assured manner of offering Madge a passage +to England with him, showed that he possessed the necessary means. + +He had instantly recognised a critical moment of Madge's life, the +moment when she found herself suddenly deprived of all resource but a +friendly hospitality which she was too proud to make long use of, as a +heaven-sent occasion for his ends. At another time, he would not have +thought of making Madge his partner in an enterprise like the +Irishman's--he feared her too much, and was too sensible of her +dislike and contempt. + +He set forth his scheme to her the next day, taking her acquiescence +for granted. She listened quietly, without expressing her thoughts; +but she neither consented nor refused. Ned, however, made full +arrangements for their voyage; considering it the crowning godsend of +a providential situation, that a vessel was so soon to make the trip, +notwithstanding the unlikely time of year. When Margaret's things were +brought over to our house, he advised her to begin packing at once, +and he even busied himself in procuring additional trunks from his +mother and mine, that she might be able to take all her gowns to +London. The importance of this, and of leaving none of her jewelry +behind, he most earnestly impressed upon her. + +Yet she did not immediately set about packing, Ned probably had +moments of misgiving, and of secret cursing, when he feared he might +be reckoning without his host. The rest of us, at the time, knew +nothing of what passed between the two: he pretended that the extra +trunks were for some mysterious baggage of his own: nor did we then +know what passed between her and Captain Falconer late in the day, and +upon which, indeed, her decision regarding Ned's offer depended. + +She had watched at our window for the captain's passing. When at +length he appeared, she was standing so close to the glass, her eyes +so unmistakably met his side-look, that he could not pretend he had +not seen her. As he bowed with most respectful civility, she beckoned +him with a single movement of a finger, and went, herself, to let him +in. When he had followed her into our parlour, his manner was +outwardly of the most delicate consideration, but she thought she saw +beneath it a certain uneasiness. They spoke awhile of her removal from +her father's house; but he avoided question as to its cause, or as to +her intentions. At last, she said directly, with assumed lightness: + +"I think of going to London with my brother, on the _Phoebe_." + +She was watching him closely: his face brightened wonderfully. + +"I vow, you could do nothing better," he said. "_There_ is _your_ +world. I've always declared you were a stranger in this far-off land. +'Tis time you found your proper element. I can't help confessing it; +'tis due to you I should confess it--though alas for us whom you leave +in New York!" + +She looked at him for a moment, with a slight curling of the lip; +witnessed his recovery from the fear that she might throw herself upon +his care; saw his comfort at being relieved of a possible burden he +was not prepared to assume; and then said, very quietly: + +"I think Mrs. Russell is coming. You had best go." + +With a look of gallant adoration, he made to kiss her hand first. But +she drew it away, and put her finger to her lip, as if to bid him +depart unheard. When he had left the house, she fell upon the sofa and +wept, but only for wounded vanity, for chagrin that she had exposed +her heart to one of those gentry who will adore a woman until there is +danger of her becoming an embarrassment. + +Before long, she arose, and dried her eyes, and went up-stairs to pack +her trunks. Thus ended this very light affair of the heart; which had +so heavy consequences for so many people. + +But Captain Falconer's inward serenity was not to escape with this +unexpectedly easy ordeal. When he reached his room, he found me +awaiting him, as the representative of Tom Faringfield. I had, in +obedience to my sense of duty, put forth a few conventional +dissuasions against Tom's fighting the captain; and had presumed to +hint that I was nearer to him in years and experience than Tom was. +But the boy replied with only a short, bitter laugh at the assured +futility of my attempts. Plainly, if there was to be fighting over +this matter, I ought not to seek a usurpation of Tom's right. And +fighting there would be, I knew, whether I said yea or nay. Since Tom +must have a second, that place was mine. And I felt, too, with a young +man's foolish faith in poetic justice, that the right must win; that +his adversary's superiority in age--and therefore undoubtedly in +practice, Falconer being the man he was--would not avail against an +honest lad avenging the probity of a sister. And so I yielded +countenance to the affair, and went, as soon as my duty permitted, to +wait upon Captain Falconer. + +"Why," said he, when I had but half told my errand, "I was led to +expect this. The young gentleman called me a harsh name, which I'm +willing to overlook. But he finds himself aggrieved, and, knowing him +as I do, I make no doubt he will not be content till we have a bout or +two. If I refuse, he will dog me, I believe, and make trouble for both +of us, till I grant him what he asks. So the sooner 'tis done, the +better, I suppose. But lookye, Mr. Russell, 'tis sure to be an +embarrassing business. If one or other of us _should_ be hurt, there'd +be the devil to pay, you know. I dare say the General would be quite +obdurate, and go the whole length of the law. There's that to be +thought of. Have a glass of wine, and think of it." + +Tom and I had already thought of it. We had been longer in New York +than the captain had, and we knew how the embarrassment to which he +alluded could be provided against. + +"'Tis very simple," said I, letting him drink alone, which it was not +easy to do, he was still so likeable a man. "We can go from +Kingsbridge as if we meant to join Captain De Lancey in another of his +raids. And we can find some spot outside the lines; and if any one is +hurt, we can give it out as the work of rebel irregulars who attacked +us." + +He regarded me silently a moment, and then said the plan seemed a good +one, and that he would name a second with whom I could arrange +details. Whereupon, dismissing the subject with a civil expression of +regret that Tom should think himself affronted, he went on to speak of +the weather, as if a gentleman ought not to treat a mere duel as a +matter of deep concern. + +I came away wishing it were not so hard to hate him. The second with +whom I at length conferred--for our duties permitted not a prompt +despatching of the affair, and moreover Captain Falconer's disposition +was to conduct it with the gentlemanly leisure its pretended +unimportance allowed--was Lieutenant Hugh Campbell, one of several +officers of that name who served in the Highland regiment that had +been stationed earlier at Valentine's Hill; he therefore knew the +debatable country beyond Kingsbridge as well as I. He was a mere +youth, a serious-minded Scot, and of a different sort from Captain +Falconer: 'twas one of the elegant captain's ways, and evidence of his +breadth of mind, to make friends of men of other kinds than his own. +Young Campbell and I, comparing our recollections of the country, +found that we both knew of a little open hollow hidden by thickets, +quite near the Kingsbridge tavern, which would serve the purpose. +Captain Falconer's duties made a daylight meeting difficult to +contrive without exposing his movements to curiosity, and other +considerations of secrecy likewise preferred a nocturnal affair. We +therefore planned that the four of us, and an Irish surgeon named +McLaughlin, should appear at the Kingsbridge tavern at ten o'clock on +a certain night for which the almanac promised moonlight, and should +repair to the meeting-place when the moon should be high enough to +illumine the hollow. The weapons were to be rapiers. The preliminary +appearance at the tavern was to save a useless cold wait in case one +of the participants should, by some freak of duty, be hindered from +the appointment; in which event, or in that of a cloudy sky, the +matter should be postponed to the next night, and so on. + +The duel was to occur upon a Wednesday night. On that afternoon I was +in the town, having carried some despatches from our outpost to +General De Lancey, and thence to General Knyphausen; and I was free +for a few minutes to go home and see my mother. + +"What do you think?" she began, handing me a cup of tea as soon as I +had strode to the parlour fire-place. + +"I think this hot tea is mighty welcome," said I, "and that my left +ear is nigh frozen. What else?" + +"Margaret has gone," she replied, beginning to rub my ear vigorously. + +"Gone! Where?" I looked around as if to make sure there was no sign of +her in the room. + +"With Ned--on the _Phoebe_." + +"The deuce! How could you let her do it--you, and her mother, and +Fanny?" + +"We didn't know. I took some jelly over to old Miss Watts--she's very +feeble--and Madge and Ned went while I was out; they had their trunks +carted off at the same time. 'Twasn't for an hour or two I became +curious why she kept her room, as I thought; and when I went up to +see, the room was empty. There were two letters there from her, one to +me and one to her mother. She said she left in that way, to save the +pain of farewells, and to avoid our useless persuasions against her +going. Isn't it terrible?--poor child! Why it seems only yesterday--" +And my good mother's lips drew suddenly down at the corners, and she +began to sniff spasmodically. + +"But is it too late?" I asked, in a suddenly quieted voice. That the +brightness and beauty of Madge, which had been a part of my world +since I could remember, should have gone from about us, all in a +moment!--'twas a new thought, and a strange one. What a blank she +left, what a dulness! + +"Too late, heaven knows!" said my mother, drying her eyes with a +handkerchief, and speaking brokenly. "As soon as Mrs. Faringfield read +the letters, which I had taken over at once, Fanny and Mr. Cornelius +started running for the wharves. But when they got there, the _Phoebe_ +wasn't in sight. It had sailed immediately their trunks were aboard, I +suppose. Oh, to think of pretty Madge--what will become of her in that +great, bad London?" + +"She has made her plans, no doubt, and knows what she is doing," said +I, with a little bitterness. "Poor Phil! Her father is much to blame." + +When I told Tom, as soon as I reached the outpost, he gave a sudden, +ghastly, startled look; then collected himself, and glanced at the +sword with which he meant to fight that night. + +"Why, I was afraid she would go," said he, in a strained voice; and +that was all. + +Whenever I saw him during the rest of the evening, he was silent, +pale, a little shaky methought. He was not as I had been before my +maiden duel: blustering and gay, in a trance-like recklessness; +assuming self-confidence so well as to deceive even myself and carry +me buoyantly through. He seemed rather in suspense like that of a +lover who has to beg a stern father for a daughter's hand. As a slight +hurt will cause a man the greatest pain, and a severe injury produce +no greater, so will the apprehensions of a trivial ordeal equal in +effect those of a matter of life and death; there being a limit to +possible sensation, beyond which nature leaves us happily numb. +Sometimes, upon occasion, Tom smiled, but with a stiffness of +countenance; when he laughed, it was in a short, jerky, mechanical +manner. As for me, I was in different mood from that preceding my own +first trial of arms: I was now overcast in spirit, tremulous, full of +misgivings. + +The moon did not disappoint us as we set out for the tavern. There +were but a few fleecy clouds, and these not of an opaqueness to darken +its beams when they passed across it. The snow was frozen hard in the +fields, and worn down in the road. The frost in the air bit our +nostrils, and we now and again worked our countenances into strange +grimaces, to free them from the sensation of being frozen hard. + +"'Tis a beautiful night," said Tom, speaking in more composure than he +had shown during the early evening. The moonlight had a calming +effect, as the clear air had a bracing one. His eyes roamed the sky, +and then the moonlit, snow-clad earth--hillock and valley, wood and +pond, solitary house bespeaking indoor comfort, and a glimpse of the +dark river in the distance--and he added: + +"What a fine world it is!" + +When we entered the warm tap-room of the tavern--the house above +Kingsbridge, outside the barriers where the passes were examined and +the people searched who were allowed entrance and departure; not +Hyatt's tavern, South of the bridge--we found a number of subalterns +there, some German, some British, some half-drunk, some playing cards. +Our Irish surgeon sat in a corner, reading a book--I think 'twas a +Latin author--by the light of a tallow candle. He nodded to us +indifferently, as if he had no engagement with us, and continued to +read. Tom and I ordered a hot rum punch mixed for us, and stood at the +bar to drink it. + +"You look pale and shaky, you two," said the tavern-keeper, who +himself waited upon us. + +"'Tis the cold," said I. "We're not all of your constitution, to walk +around in shirt-sleeves this weather." + +"Why," says the landlord, "I go by the almanac. 'Tis time for the +January thaw, 'cordin' to that. Something afoot to-night, eh? One o' +them little trips up the river, or out East Chester way, with De +Lancey's men, I reckon?" + +We said nothing, but wisely looked significant, and the host grinned. + +"More like 'tis a matter of wenches," put in a half-drunken ensign +standing beside us at the bar. "That's the only business to bring a +gentleman out such a cursed night. Damn such a vile country, cold as +hell in winter, and hot as hell in summer! Damn it and sink it! and +fill up my glass, landlord. Roast me dead if _I_ stick _my_ nose +outdoors to-night!" + +"A braw, fine nicht, the nicht, gentlemen," said a sober, ruddy-faced +Scot, very gravely, with a lofty contempt for the other's remarks. +"Guid, hamelike weather." + +But the feelings and thoughts prevailing in the tap-room were not in +tune with those agitating our hearts, and as soon as Captain Falconer +and his friend came in, we took our leave, exchanging a purposely +careless greeting with the newcomers. We turned in silence from the +road, crossed a little sparsely wooded hill, and arrived in the +thicket-screened hollow. + +'Twas in silence we had come. I had felt there was much I would like, +and ought, to say, but something in Tom's mood or mine, or in the +situation, benumbed my thoughts so they would not come forth, or +jumbled them so I knew not where to begin. Arrived upon the ground +with a palpitating sense of the nearness of the event, we found +ourselves still less fit for utterance of the things deepest in our +minds. + +"There'll be some danger of slipping on the frozen snow," said I, +trying to assume a natural, even a cheerful, tone. + +"'Tis an even danger to both of us," said Tom, speaking quickly to +maintain a steadiness of voice, as a drunken man walks fast to avoid a +crookedness of gait. + +While we were tramping about to keep warm, the Irish surgeon came to +us through the bushes, vowing 'twas "the divvle's own weather, shure +enough, barrin' the hivvenly moonlight." Opening his capacious +greatcoat, he brought from concealment a small case, which Tom eyed +askance, and I regarded ominously, though it had but a mere +professional aspect to its owner. + +We soon heard the tread, and the low but easy voices, of Captain +Falconer and Lieutenant Campbell; who joined us with salutations, +graceful on Falconer's part, and naturally awkward on that of +Campbell. How I admired the unconcerned, leisurely manner in which +Falconer, having gone a little aloof from Tom and me, removed his +overcoat, laced coat, and waistcoat, giving a playful shiver, +purposely exaggerated, as he stood in his ruffled shirt and +well-fitting boots and breeches. I was awkward in helping Tom off with +his outer clothes. The moonlight, making everything in the hollow +well-nigh as visible as by day, showed Tom's face to be white, his +eyes wide-open and darkly radiant; while in Falconer's case it +revealed a countenance as pleasant and gracious as ever, eyes neither +set nor restless. + +Campbell and I perfunctorily compared the swords, gave them a bend or +two, and handed them to the principals. We then stood back. Doctor +McLaughlin looked on with a mild interest. There was a low cry, a ring +of steel, and the two men were at it. + +I recall the moonshine upon their faces, the swift dartings of their +faintly luminous blades, their strangely altering shadows on the snow +as they moved, the steady attention of us who looked on, the moan of +the wind among the trees upon the neighbouring heights, the sound of +the men's tramping on the crusted snow, the clear clink of their +weapons, sometimes the noise of their breathing. They eyed each other +steadfastly, seeming to grudge the momentary winks enforced by nature. +Falconer's purpose, I began to see, was but to defend himself and +disarm his opponent. But Tom gave him much to do, making lightning +thrusts with a suddenness and persistence that began at length to try +the elder man. So they kept it up till I should have thought they were +tired out. + +Suddenly Tom made a powerful lunge that seemed to find the captain +unready. But the latter, with a sharp involuntary cry, got his blade +up in time to divert the point, by pure accident, with the guard of +his hilt. His own point was thus turned straight toward his +antagonist; and Tom, throwing his weight after his weapon, impaled +himself upon the captain's. For an infinitesimal point of time, till +the sword was drawn out, the lad seemed to stand upon his toes, +leaning forward, looking toward the sky with a strange surprise upon +his face, eyes and mouth alike open. And then he collapsed as if his +legs and body were but empty rags; and fell in a huddle upon the snow: +with a convulsive movement he stretched himself back to the shape of a +man; and lay perfectly still. + +The captain bent over him with astonishment. The surgeon ran to him, +and turned him flat upon his back. I was by this time kneeling +opposite the surgeon, who tore open Tom's shirts and examined his +body. + +"Bedad, gentlemen," said the Irishman sadly, in a moment, "he's beyont +the need of my profession. 'Tis well ye had that sthory ready, in case +of accident." + +I stared incredulously at the surgeon, and then buried my face upon +the dear body of the dead, mingling my wild tears with his blood. + +"Oh, Madge, Madge," thought I, "if you could see what your folly has +led to!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_Follows the Fortunes of Madge and Ned._ + + +But Madge could know nothing yet of that night's occurrence. She was +then many miles out to sea, her thoughts perhaps still lingering +behind with her old life, but bound soon to overtake her, and to pass +far ahead to the world she was sailing for, the world of her +long-cherished desires. + +I shall briefly relate a part of what she afterward recounted to me. +The voyage from New York to Bristol lasted six weeks. She suffered +much from her cramped quarters, from the cold weather, from +seasickness; but she bore up against her present afflictions, in the +hope of future compensations. She put away from her, with the facility +of an ambitious beauty, alike her regrets for the past, and her +misgivings of the future. + +Not to risk any increase of those misgivings, she refrained from +questioning Ned as to his resources, nor did she require of him a +minute exposition of his plans. She preferred to leave all to him and +to circumstance, considering that, once launched upon the sea of +London, and perfectly unrestricted as to her proceedings, she could +make shift to keep afloat. She had an earnest of the power of her +beauty, in its effect upon the ship's captain, who, in the absence of +passengers, was the only person aboard whose admiration was worth +playing for. She had the place of honour at his table, and in her +presence he was nothing but eyes and dumb confusion, while the +extraordinary measures he took for her comfort proclaimed him her +willing slave. + +She listened without objection or comment when Ned, in confidential +moods, forced his purposes upon her attention. + +"We'll make 'em stare, my dear," said he. "We'll make 'em open their +eyes a bit; just you wait! We'll find lodgings somewhere in the thick +of the town, and I'll take you to the theatres, and to walk in St. +James Park, and to the public assemblies, and wherever you're sure to +be seen. I wish 'twere Summer; then there'd be Vauxhall and Ranelagh, +and all that. 'Tis a bad time of year in London now; but we'll do our +best. There'll be young sparks of quality enough, to ask each other +who that goddess is, and that Venus, and that angel, and all that kind +of thing; and they'll be mad to make your acquaintance. They'll take +note of me, and when they see me at the coffee-houses and faro-tables, +they'll fall over one another in the rush to know me, and to be my +friends. And I'll pick out the best, and honour 'em with invitations +to call at our lodgings, and there'll be my pretty sister to mix a +punch for us, or pour out tea for us; and once we let 'em see we're as +good quality as any of 'em, and won't stand any damn' nonsense,' why, +you leave it to brother Ned to land a fat fish, that's all!" + +She had a fear that his operations might at length become offensive to +her taste, might stray from the line of her own ambitions; but she saw +good reason to await developments in silence; and to postpone +deviating from Ned's wishes, until they should cease to forward hers. + +Upon her landing at Bristol, and looking around with interest at the +shipping which reminded her of New York but to emphasise her feeling +of exile therefrom, her thrilling sense of being at last in the Old +World, abated her heaviness at leaving the ship which seemed the one +remaining tie with her former life. If ever a woman felt herself to be +entering upon life anew, and realised a necessity of blotting the past +from memory, it was she; and well it was that the novelty of her +surroundings, the sense of treading the soil whereon she had so long +pined to set foot, aided her resolution to banish from her mind all +that lay behind her. + +The time-worn, weather-beaten aspect of the town, its old streets +thronged with people of whom she was not known to a soul, would have +made her disconsolate, had she not forced herself to contemplate with +interest the omnipresent antiquity, to her American eyes so new. And +so, as she had heroically endured seasickness, she now fought bravely +against homesickness; and, in the end, as nearly conquered it as one +ever does. + +'Twas a cold ride by stage-coach to London, at that season; there were +few travellers in the coach, and those few were ill-natured with +discomfort, staring fiercely at the two strangers--whose strangeness +they instantly detected by some unconscious process--as if the pair +were responsible for the severe February weather, or guilty of some +unknown crime. At the inns where they stopped, for meals and +overnight, they were subjected to a protracted gazing on the part of +all who saw them--an inspection seemingly resentful or disapproving, +but indeed only curious. It irritated Madge, who asked Ned what the +cause might be. + +"Tut! Don't mind it," said he. "'Tis the way of the English, +everywhere but in London. They stare at strangers as if they was in +danger of being insulted by 'em, or having their pockets picked by +'em, or at best as if they was looking at some remarkable animal; but +they mean no harm by it." + +"How can they see we are strangers?" she queried. "We're dressed like +them." + +"God knows! Perhaps because we look more cheerful than they do, and +have a brisker way, and laugh easier," conjectured Ned. "But you'll +feel more at home in London." + +By the time she arrived in London, having slept in a different bed +each night after landing, and eaten at so many different inns each +day, Madge felt as if she had been a long while in England.[8] She +came to the town thus as to a haven of rest; and though she was still +gazed at for her beauty, it was not in that ceaseless and mistrustful +way in which she had been scrutinised from top to toe in the country; +moreover, the names of many of the streets and localities were +familiar to her, and in her thoughts she had already visited them: for +these reasons, which were more than Ned had taken account of, she did +indeed feel somewhat at home in London, as he had predicted. + +The night of their arrival was passed at the inn, in the Strand, where +the coach had set them down. The next morning Ned chose lodgings in +Craven Street: three rooms, constituting the entire first floor; which +Madge, though she thought the house had a dingy look, found +comfortable enough in their faded way; and wherein the two were +installed by noon. They spent the afternoon walking about the most +famous streets, returning to their lodgings for dinner. + +"I think," said Ned, while they were eating, "'twon't do any harm to +get on one of your best gowns, and your furbelows, and we'll go to the +play, and begin the campaign this very night." + +"Bless me, no! I'm tired to death with sightseeing," replied Madge. "I +could fall asleep this moment. Besides, who's here to dress my hair? I +couldn't go without a commode." + +"Oh, well, just as you like. Only be pleased to remember, ma'am, my +purse isn't a widow's mite--widow's cruse of oil, I mean, that runs +for ever. I've been at a great expense to bring you here, and pounds +and shillings don't rain from heaven like--like that stuff the Jews +lived on for forty years in the wilderness. The sooner we land our +fish, the sooner we'll know where the money's coming from. I sha'n't +be able to pay for lodgings and meals very long." + +"Why, 'tis a pretty pass if you've no more money--" + +"Well, it _is_ a pretty pass, and that's just what it is. I didn't +count the cost when I made the generous offer to bring you. Oh, we can +last a week or so yet, but the sooner something is done, the sooner we +shall be easy in our minds. On second thoughts, though, you'd better +go to bed and rest. It mightn't be well to flash on the town to-night, +looking fagged, and without your hair dressed, and all that. So you go +to bed and I'll go around and--call upon a few friends I made when I +was here before." + +Ned had so improved his attire, by acquisitions in New York, Bristol, +and London, that his appearance was now presentable in the haunts of +gentlemen. So he went out, leaving her alone. She could no longer +postpone meditating upon what was before her. + +Now that she viewed it for the first time in definite particulars, its +true aspect struck her with a sudden dismay. She was expected to do +nothing less than exhibit herself for sale, put herself up at auction +for the highest bidder, set out her charms as a bait. And when the +bait drew, and the bidders offered, and the buyer awaited--what then? +She would never, her pride alone would never let her, degrade herself +to a position at the very thought of which she caught her breath with +horror. Come what may, the man who purchased her must put the +transaction into the form of marriage. True, she was already married, +in the view of the law; but, with a woman's eye for essentials, she +felt her divorce from Philip already accomplished. The law, she +allowed, would have to be satisfied with matters of form: but that was +a detail to be observed when the time came; Philip would not oppose +obstacles. + +So she would let matters take their course, would wait upon +occurrences. In very truth, to put herself on view with intent of +catching a husband, of obtaining an establishment in life, was no more +than young ladies of fashion, of virtue, of piety, did continually, +under the skilled direction of the most estimable mothers. In Madge's +case, the only difference was, on the one side, the excuse of +necessity; on the other side, the encumbrance of her existing +marriage. But the latter could be removed, whereas the former would +daily increase. + +She must, therefore, benefit by Ned's operations as long as they did +not threaten to degrade her. By the time they did threaten so, she +would have gained some experience of her own, circumstances would have +arisen which she could turn to her use. Of actual destitution, never +having felt it, she could not conceive; and therefore she did not take +account of its possibility in her case. + +So, having recovered from her brief panic, she went to bed and slept +soundly. + +The next morning Ned was in jubilant spirits. His visit the previous +night had been to a gaminghouse in Covent Garden, and fortune had +showered him with benefactions. He saw the margin of time at their +disposal lengthened by several weeks. He bade his sister put herself +at her best, drank with her to their success, and went and engaged a +hairdresser and a maid. They went that night, in a hackney-coach, to +the play at Drury Lane. + +The open-mouthed gazing of her new maid, the deftly spoken admiration +of her hairdresser, and the mirror upon her dressing-table, had +prepared Madge for triumph. Her expectations were not disappointed, +but they were almost forgotten. Her pleasure at sight of the restless, +chattering crowd; her interest in the performance; her joy in seeing, +in fine: supplanted half the consciousness of being seen. But she was, +indeed, stared at from all parts of the house; people looked, and +nudged one another; and the powdered bucks and beauties in the +side-boxes, glancing up, forgot their own looks in examining hers. + +Ned was elated beyond measure. He praised her all the way home in the +coach, and when they stood at last on the step of their lodging-house, +he waited a moment before going in, and looked back toward the Strand, +half-thinking that some susceptible and adventurous admirer might have +followed their conveyance to the door. + +The next day, Sunday, he took her to church, at St. James's in +Piccadilly, where they had difficulty in getting seats, and where +several pious dowagers were scandalised at the inattention of their +male company to the service. Ned walked out alone in the afternoon, +but, to his surprise, he was not accosted by any gentleman pretending +to recognise him as some one else, as a means of knowing him as +himself. + +On Monday he made himself seen at numerous coffee-houses and taverns, +but, although he came upon two or three faces that he had noted in the +theatre, no one looked at him with any sign of recollection. "Well, +well," thought he, and afterward said to Madge, "in time they will +come to remember me as the lovely creature's escort; at first their +eyes will be all for the lovely creature herself." + +They went to Covent Garden that evening, and to the Haymarket the +next; and subsequently to public assemblies: Madge everywhere +arresting attention, and exciting whispers and elbowings among +observers wherever she passed. At the public balls, she was asked to +dance, by fellows of whom neither she nor Ned approved, but who, Ned +finally came to urge, might be useful acquaintances as leading to +better ones. But she found all of them contemptible, and would not +encourage any of them. + +"If we could only get an invite to some private entertainment, the +thing would be done in a jiffy," said Ned, "but damn it, you won't +lead on any of these fellows--sure they must know ladies to whom they +would mention you." + +"I shouldn't think much of ladies that sought acquaintances on _their_ +recommendation." + +"Why, curse it, we must begin somewhere, to get in." + +"If we began where these could open the doors, I warrant we shouldn't +get very far in." + +"Rat me if I understand why the men that are taken with you at the +play, and elsewhere--real gentlemen of quality, some of 'em--never try +to follow you up through me. I've put myself in their way, the Lord +knows. Maybe they think I'm your husband. Curse it, there _is_ a +difficulty! If you walked alone, in St. James Park, or past the +clubs--?" + +"You scoundrel, do you think I've come to that?" + +Her look advised him not to pursue his last suggestion. By this time +his expectations from their public appearances together had been sadly +dampened. They must make acquaintances; creditable ones, that is to +say, for of another kind he had enough and to spare. + +But at last, after some weeks, during which he remained unapproached, +and at the end of which he came to a belated perception of the +insuperable barrier between the elect and the undesirable, and of his +own identity with the latter class, he decided he must fall back upon +his friends for what they might be worth. He had undergone many snubs +in his efforts to thrust himself upon fine gentlemen in taverns, +coffee-houses, and gaming-places. As for Madge, her solitude had been +mitigated by her enjoyment of plays and sights, of the external +glimpses of that life to which her entrance seemed impossible. + +Ned began therefore to bring his associates to their lodgings: +chiefly, a gambling barrister of Lincoln's Inn, a drunken cashiered +captain of marines, and a naval surgeon's mate with an unhealthy +outbreak on his face. One meeting with each rascal sufficed to make +Madge deny her presence upon his next visit. At this Ned raged, +declaring, that these gentlemen, though themselves in adverse +circumstances, had relations and friends among the quality or the +wealthy. And at length he triumphantly made good his assertion by +introducing a youth to whom the barrister had introduced him, and who, +he whispered to Madge, though not blessed with a title, was the heir +in prospect of an immense fortune. It came out that he was the son of +a prosperous fishmonger in the city. + +He was a fat, good-humoured fellow, expensively dressed, and clean, +being in all these points an exception among Ned's acquaintances. +Madge found him, as a mere acquaintance, more amusing than +intolerable; but as a possible husband, not to be thought of save with +laughter and contempt. + +Her refusal to consider him in the desired light, made Ned very wroth; +and in revenge he went out, and, between drink and gaming, rid himself +of every penny he possessed. He thereupon begged that Madge would let +him pawn some of her jewelry. She refused to do so; until their +landlady threatened ejection and suit. + +After that, matters went from bad to worse. With part of the money +obtained upon what trinkets she gave him, Ned tried to repair his +fortunes at the gaming-table; and that failing, he consoled himself in +drunkenness. More of her valuables were demanded; yielded up after +terrible quarrels with Ned, and humiliating scenes with the landlady. +The visits to the play ceased, the maid was discharged, the +hairdresser was no more brought into requisition. Their fall to +destitution was worthy of the harebrained design, the bungling +conduct, of Ned; the childish inexperience, the blind confidence, of +Madge. 'Twas a fall as progressive as a series of prints by Hogarth. +The brother was perpetually in liquor; he no longer took Madge out +with him. Often he stayed away nights and days at a time. + +She resolved to entrust nothing further to him, but to dispose of her +ornaments herself, and to devote the proceeds to necessities alone, as +he had wasted them in drink and gaming. When she acted upon this +resolution, he behaved like a madman. Fearful quarrels ensued. He +blamed her for defeating his plans, she upbraided him for alluring her +to London. Recriminations and threats filled the hours when he was +with her; loneliness and despondency occupied the periods of his +absence. Finally, while she slept, he robbed her of money she had got +upon a bracelet; then of some of the jewelry itself. She dared no +longer sleep soundly, lest he might take away her last means of +subsistence. She was in daily and nightly terror of him. + +She made up her mind, at last, to flee to some other part of the town, +and hide from him; that her few resources left might be devoted to +herself alone, and thus postpone the day of destruction to the +furthest possible time. After her last jewel, she might dispose of her +dresses. It was on a moonlight night in spring that she came to this +determination; and, as Ned had gone out in a mood apparently presaging +a long absence, she set about packing her clothes into her trunks, so +as to take them with her when she left by hackney-coach at early +daylight to seek new lodgings. + +Suddenly she heard the door below slam with a familiar violence, and a +well-known heavy tread ascend the stairs. There was no time to conceal +what she was at, ere Ned flung open the door, and stumbled in. He +stared in amazement at her trunks and dresses. + +"What's this?" he cried. "Why is all this trash lying around? Why, +damme, you're packing your trunks!" + +She had passed the mood for dissembling. "Well," she retorted, "I may +pack my trunks if I please. They're my trunks, and my things in 'em." + +"What! You thankless hussy, were you going to run away?" + +"'Tis no concern of yours, what I was going to do!" + +"Oh, isn't it? We'll see about that! Begad, 'tis lucky I came back! So +you were going to desert me, eh? Well, I'm damned if there was ever +such ingratitude! After all I've done and suffered!" + +[Illustration: "HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL +BLOW."] + +She gave a derisive laugh, and defiantly resumed her packing. + +"What! you're rebellious, are you?" quoth he. "But you'll not get away +from me so easy, my lady. Not with those clothes, at least; for +yourself, it doesn't much matter. I'll just put those things back into +the press, and after this I'll carry the key. But your rings and +necklace--I'll take charge of them first." + +He stepped forward to lay hands upon the ornaments, which, for their +greater security from him, she now wore upon her person at all times. +She sprang away, ready to defend them by every possible means, and +warning him not to touch her. Her flashing eyes and fiery mien checked +him for a moment; then, with a curse, he seized her by the neck and +essayed to undo the necklace. Thereupon she screamed loudly for help. +To intimidate her into silence, he struck her in the face. At that she +began to struggle and hit, so that he was hard put to it to retain +hold of her and to save his face from her hands. Enraged by her +efforts, he finally drew back to give her a more effectual blow; which +he succeeded in doing, but at the cost of relaxing his grasp, so that +she slipped from him and escaped by the door. She hastened down the +stairs and into the street, he in wrathful pursuit. She fled toward +the Strand. + +At the corner of that thoroughfare, she ran into a trio of gentlemen +who just at the moment reached the junction of the two streets. + +"The deuce!" cried one of the three, flinging his arms around her. +"What have we here? Beauty in distress?" + +"Let me go!" she cried. "Don't let _him_ take me." + +"Him!" echoed the gentleman, releasing her. He was a +distinguished-looking fellow of twenty-eight or so, with a winning +face and very fine eyes. "Oh, I see. The villain in pursuit!" + +"Egad, that makes you the hero to the rescue, Dick," said one of the +young gentleman's companions. + +"Faith, I'll play the part, too," replied Dick. "Fear not, madam." + +"Thank you, sir, for stopping her," said Ned, coming up, panting. + +"Pray, don't waste your thanks. What shall I do to the rascal, madam?" + +"I don't care," she answered. "Don't let him have me." + +"None of that, sir," spoke up Ned. "She's a runaway, and I'm her +natural protector." + +"Her husband?" inquired Dick. + +"No--" + +"I congratulate you, madam." + +"I'm her brother," said Ned. + +"And condole with you in the same breath," finished Dick, to Margaret. +"You're a lady, I see. Pardon my familiarity at first. Sure you +needn't fear me--I have a wife as beautiful as yourself. As for this +relation of yours--" + +"He tried to rob me of my necklace and rings. We lodge yonder, where +the light is in the window. He found me packing my trunks to leave +him--" + +"And leave him you shall. Shall she not, gentlemen?" + +His two companions warmly assented. Ned savagely measured them with +his eyes, but did not dare a trial of prowess against three. Moreover, +their courtly address and easy manners disconcerted him. + +"Oh, I sha'n't harm her," he grumbled. "'Twas but a tiff. Let her come +back home; 'twill be all well." + +But Madge was not for resigning herself a moment to his mercy. She +briefly explained her situation and her wishes. The upshot of all was, +that the young gentleman called Dick turned to his friends and said: + +"What say you, gentlemen? Our friends at Brooks's can wait, I think. +Shall we protect this lady while she packs her trunks, find lodgings +for her this very night, and see her installed in them?" + +"Ay, and see that this gentle brother does not follow or learn where +she goes," answered one. + +"Bravo!" cried the other. "'Twill be like an incident in a comedy, +Dick." + +"Rather like a page of Smollett," replied Dick. "With your permission, +madam, we'll accompany you to your lodgings." + +They sat around the fireplace, with their backs to her, and talked +with easy gaiety, while she packed her possessions; Ned having first +followed them in, and then fled to appease his mind at an ale-house. +Finally Dick and one of the gentlemen closed her trunks for her, while +the other went for a coach; wherein all three accompanied her to the +house of a wigmaker known to Dick, in High Holborn; where they roused +the inmates, made close terms, and left her installed in a decent room +with her belongings. + +As they took their leave, after an almost tearful burst of thanks on +her part, Dick said: + +"From some of your expressions, madam, I gather that your resources +are limited--resources of one kind, I mean. But in your appearance, +your air, and your voice, you possess resources, which if ever you +feel disposed to use, I beg you will let me know. Pray don't +misunderstand me; the world knows how much I am in love with my +wife."[9] + +When he had gone, leaving her puzzled and astonished, she turned to +the wigmaker's wife, who was putting the room to rights, and asked: + +"Pray what is that last gentleman's name?" + +"Wot, ma'am! Can it be you don't know _'im?_" + +"He forgot to tell me." + +"Sure 'e thought as you must know already. Everybody in London knows +the great Mr. Sheridan." + +"What! Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the dramatist?" + +"And manager of Drury Lane Theaytre. Didn't you 'ear 'im hoffer to put +you on the stage, w'en 'e spoke about your looks and voice?" + +Madge turned to the mirror; and saw, for the--first time in weeks, a +sudden light of hope, a sense of triumphs yet in her power, dawn upon +her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_I Hear Again from Winwood._ + + +Meanwhile we passed through a time of deep sorrow at the Faringfield +house and ours. The effect of Tom's untimely fate, coming upon +Margaret's departure and the disclosures regarding her and Ned, was +marked in Mr. Faringfield by a haggardness of countenance, an averted +glance, a look of age, pitiful to see. His lady considered herself +crushed by affliction, as one upon whom grief had done its worst; and +she resigned herself to the rôle of martyr in the comfortably +miserable way that some people do, without losing her appreciation of +the small consolations of life, such as morning chocolate, afternoon +tea, and neighbourly conversation upon the subject of her woes. Poor +Fanny bore up for the sake of cheering her parents, but her face, for +a long time, was rarely without the traces of tears shed in solitude. +Of that household of handsome, merry children, whose playful shouts +had once filled the mansion and garden with life, she was now the only +one left. I sighed to think that my chances of taking her away from +that house were now reduced to the infinitesimal. Her parents, who had +brought into the world so promising a family, to find themselves now +so nearly alone, must not be left entirely so: such would be her +answer to any pleas I might in my selfishness offer. + +What a transformation had been wrought in that once cheerful +household! How many lives were darkened!--Mr. Faringfield's, his +wife's, Fanny's, Philip's (when he should know), Madge's (sooner or +later), the sympathetic Cornelius's, my mother's, my own. And what a +promising, manly, gentle life had been cut short in its earliest +bloom! I knew that Tom's life alone had been worth a score of lives +like Captain Falconer's. And the cause of all this, though Margaret +was much to blame, was the idle resolve of a frivolous lady-killer to +add one more conquest to his list, in the person of a woman for whom +he did not entertain more than the most superficial feelings. What a +sacrifice had been made for the transient gratification of a +stranger's vanity! What bitter consequences, heartrending separations, +had come upon all of us who had lived so close together so many +pleasant years, through the careless self-amusement of a chance +interloper whose very name we had not known six months before! + +And now, the pleasure-seeker's brief pastime in that quarter being +ended, the lasting sorrows of his victims having begun; his own career +apparently not altered from its current, their lives diverted rudely +into dark channels and one of them stopped short for ever: was the +matter to rest so? + +You may easily guess what my answer was to this question. When I +pondered on the situation, I no longer found Captain Falconer a hard +man to hate. The very lightness of his purpose, contrasted with the +heaviness of its consequences, aggravated his crime. To risk so much +upon other people, to gain so little for himself, was the more heinous +sin than its converse would have been. That he might not have foreseen +the evil consequences made possible, was no palliation: he ought to +have examined the situation; or indeed he ought to have heeded what he +must have known, that little offences may always entail dire evils. +Measured by their possibility to work havoc with lives, there are no +_small_ sins. The man who enters carelessly upon a trivial deviation +is therefore as much to be held responsible as he that walks +deliberately into the blackest crime. Not to know this, is not to have +studied life; and not to have studied life is, in a person of mature +years, a mighty sin of omission, because of the great evils that may +arise from ignorance. But Captain Falconer must have known life, must +have seen the hazards of his course. Therefore he was responsible in +any view; and therefore I would do my utmost toward exacting payment +from him. Plainly, in Philip's absence, the right fell to me, as his +friend and Tom's--nay, too, as the provisionally accepted husband of +Mr. Faringfield's second daughter. + +But before I got an opportunity to make a quarrel with Falconer (who +had moved his quarters from the Faringfield house, wherein he had not +slept or eaten since the night of Margaret's leaving it, though he had +spent some time in his rooms there on the ensuing day) I had a curious +interview with Mr. Faringfield. + +While in the town one day, I had stopped as usual to see my mother. +Just as I was about to remount my horse, Mr. Faringfield appeared at +his garden gate. Beckoning me to him, he led the way into the garden, +and did not stop until we were behind a fir-tree, where we could not +be seen from the house. + +"Tell me the truth," said he abruptly, his eyes fixed piercingly upon +mine, "how Tom met his death." + +After a moment's confusion, I answered: + +"I can add nothing to what has been told you, sir." + +He looked at me awhile in silence; then said, with a sorrowful frown: + +"I make no doubt you are tongue-tied by a compact. But you need not +fear me. The British authorities are not to be moved by any complaint +of mine. My object is not to procure satisfaction for my son's death. +I merely wish to know whether he took it upon himself to revenge our +calamities; and whether that was not the true cause of his death." + +"Why, sir," I said awkwardly, as he still held me in a searching gaze +that seemed to make speech imperative, "how should you think that?" + +"From several things. In the first place, I know Tom was a lad of +mettle. The account of the supposed attack that night, has it that +Falconer was in your party; he was one of those who returned with you. +What would Tom have been doing in Falconer's society, when not under +orders, after what had occurred? Other people, who know nothing of +that occurrence, would see nothing strange in their being together. +But I would swear the boy was not so lost to honourable feeling as to +have been Falconer's companion after what had taken place here." + +"'Twas no loss of honourable feeling that made him Falconer's +companion!" said I, impulsively. + +"Then," cried he, quickly, with eagerness in his voice, "'twas to +fight Falconer?" + +"I didn't say that." + +"Thank God, then, if he had to die, 'twas not as that man's friend, +but his antagonist! My poor, brave Tom! My noble boy! Oh, would I had +known him better while he lived!" + +"He was all that is chivalrous and true, sir." + +"I wanted only this assurance. I felt it in my heart. Don't fear my +betraying you; I understand how these affairs have to be managed at +such times. Alas, if I had but known in time to prevent! Well, well, +'tis too late now. But there is one person I must confide this +to--Philip." + +"But I haven't told you anything, sir." + +"Quite true; and therefore what I shall confide to Philip will not be +of your telling. He will be silent, too. We shall make no disclosures. +Falconer shall receive his punishment in another manner." + +"He shall, sir," said I, with a positiveness which, in his feeling of +sorrow, and yet relief, to know that Tom had died as champion of the +family honour, escaped his notice. I thereupon took my leave. + +As I afterward came to know, he sent Philip an account of the whole +lamentable affair, from Ned's reappearance to Tom's death; it was +written in a cipher agreed upon between the two, and 'twas carried by +Bill Meadows. Mr. Faringfield deemed it better that Philip should know +the whole truth from his relation, than learn of Madge's departure, +and Tom's fate, from other accounts, which must soon reach his ears in +any case. + +I know not exactly how many days later it was, that, having a free +evening in the town, I went to the Faringfield house in hope of +bearing some cheer with me. But 'twas in vain. Mrs. Faringfield was +keeping her chamber, and requiring Fanny's attendance. Mr. Faringfield +sat in a painful reverie, before the parlour fire; scarce looked up +when I entered; and seemed to find the lively spirits I brought in +from the cold outer world, a jarring note upon his mood. He had not +ordered candles: the firelight was more congenial to his meditations. +Mr. Cornelius sat in a dark corner of the room, lending his silent +sympathy, and perhaps a fitting word now and then, to the merchant's +reflections. + +Old Noah, the only servant I saw, reflected in his black face the +sorrow that had fallen on the home, and stepped with the tread of a +ghost. I soon took my leave, having so far failed to carry any +brightness into the stricken house, that I came away filled with a +sadness akin to its own. I walked forward aimlessly through the wintry +dusk, thinking life all sorrow, the world all gloom. + +Suddenly the sound of laughter struck my ears. Could there indeed be +mirth anywhere--nay, so near at hand--while such woe dwelt in the +house I had left? The merriment seemed a violence, a sacrilege, an +insult. I looked angrily at the place whence the noise proceeded. +'Twas from the parlour of the King's Arms tavern--for, in my doleful +ponderings, my feet had carried me, scarce consciously, so far from +Queen Street. I peered in through the lighted window. A number of +officers were drinking, after dinner, at a large table, and 'twas the +noise of their boisterous gaiety that my unhappy feelings had so +swiftly resented. + +While the merry fellows dipped their punch from the great bowl +steaming in the centre of the table, and laughed uproariously at the +story one was telling, I beheld in sharp contrast this jocund scene +and the sad one I had so recently looked upon. And, coming to observe +particulars, I suddenly noticed that the cause of all this laughter, +himself smiling in appreciation of his own story as he told it, his +face the picture of well-bred light-hearted mirth, was Captain +Falconer. And he was the cause of the other scene, the sorrow that +abode in the house I loved! The thought turned me to fire. I uttered a +curse, and strode into the tavern; rudely flung open the parlour door, +and stood in the presence of the laughing officers. + +Falconer himself was the first to recognise me, though all had turned +to see who made so violent an entrance. + +"Why, Russell," cried he, showing not a whit of ill-humour at the +interruption to his story, "this is a pleasure, by George! I haven't +seen you in weeks. Find a place, and dive into the punch. Ensign +Russell, gentlemen--if any of you haven't the honour already--and my +very good friend, too!" + +"Ensign Russell," I assented, "but not your friend, Captain Falconer. +I desire no friends of your breed; and I came in here for the purpose +of telling you so, damn you!" + +Falconer's companions were amazed, of course; and some of them looked +resentful and outraged, on his behalf. But the captain himself, with +very little show of astonishment, continued his friendly smile to me. + +"Well acted, Russell," said he, in a tone so pleasant I had to tighten +my grip upon my resolution. "On my conscience, anybody who didn't know +us would never see your joke." + +"Nor would anybody who did know us," I retorted. "If an affront before +all this company, purposely offered, be a joke, then laugh at this +one. But a man of spirit would take it otherwise." + +"Sure the fellow means to insult you, Jack," said one of the officers +to Falconer. + +"Thank you," said I to the officer. + +"Why, Bert," said the captain, quickly, "you must be under some +delusion. Have you been drinking too much?" + +"Not a drop," I replied. "I needn't be drunk, to know a scoundrel. +Come, sir, will you soon take offence? How far must I go?" + +"By all that's holy, Jack," cried one of his friends, "if you don't +knock him down, I shall!" + +"Ay, he ought to have his throat slit!" called out another. + +"Nay, nay!" said Falconer, stopping with a gesture a general rising +from the table. "There is some mistake here. I will talk with the +gentleman alone. After you, sir." And, having approached me, he waited +with great civility, for me to precede him out of the door. I accepted +promptly, being in no mood to waste time in a contest of politeness. + +"Now, lad, what in the name of heaven--" he began, in the most gentle, +indulgent manner, as we stood alone in the passage. + +"For God's sake," I blurted irritably, "be like your countrymen in +there: be sneering, resentful, supercilious! Don't be so cursed +amiable--don't make it so hard for me to do this!" + +"I supercilious! And to thee, lad!" he replied, with a reproachful +smile. + +"Show your inward self, then. I know how selfish you are, how +unscrupulous! You like people for their good company, and their +admiration of you, their attachment to you. But you would trample over +any one, without a qualm, to get at your own pleasure or enrichment, +or to gratify your vanity." + +He meditated for a moment upon my words. Then he said, good-naturedly: + +"Why, you hit me off to perfection, I think. And yet, my liking for +some people is real, too. I would do much for those I like--if it cost +not too many pains, and required no sacrifice of pleasure. For you, +indeed, I would do a great deal, upon my honour!" + +"Then do this," quoth I, fighting against the ingratiating charm he +exercised. "Grant me a meeting--swords or pistols, I don't care +which--and the sooner the better." + +"But why? At least I may know the cause." + +"The blight you have brought on those I love--but that's a cause must +be kept secret between us." + +"Must I fight twice on the same score, then?" + +"Why not? You fared well enough the first time. Tom fought on his +family's behalf. I fight on behalf of my friend--Captain Winwood. +Besides, haven't I given you cause to-night, before your friends in +there? If I was in the wrong there, so much the greater my offence. +Come--will you take up the quarrel as it is? Or must I give new +provocation?" + +He sighed like a man who finds himself drawn into a business he would +have considerately avoided. + +"Well, well," said he, "I can refuse you nothing. We can manage the +affair as we did the other, I fancy. It must be a secret, of +course--even from my friends in there. I shall tell them we have +settled our difference, and let them imagine what they please to. I'll +send some one to you--that arrangement will give you the choice of +weapons." + +"'Tis indifferent to me." + +"To me also. But I prefer you should have that privilege. I entreat +you will choose the weapons you are best at." + +"Thank you. I shall expect to hear from you, then. Good-night!" + +"Good-night! 'Tis a foggy evening. I wish you might come in and warm +yourself with a glass before you go; but of course--well, good-night!" + +I went out into the damp darkness, thanking heaven the matter was +settled beyond undoing; and marvelling that exceptional, favoured +people should exist, who, thanks to some happy combination of +superficial graces, remain irresistibly likable despite all exposure +of the selfish vices they possess at heart. + +But if my prospective opponent was one who could not be faced +antagonistically without a severe effort, the second whom he chose was +one against whose side I could fight with the utmost readiness, thanks +to the irritating power he possessed upon me. He was Lieutenant Chubb, +whom I had worsted in the affair to which I have alluded earlier, +which grew out of his assumption of superiority to us who were of +American birth. I had subjected this cock to such deference in my +presence, that he now rejoiced at what promised to be my defeat, and +his revenge by proxy, so great reliance he placed upon Captain +Falconer's skill with either sword or pistol. I chose the latter +weapon, however, without much perturbation, inwardly resolved that the +gloating Chubb should so far fail of his triumph, as to suffer a +second humiliation in the defeat of his principal. For my own second, +Lieutenant Berrian, of our brigade, did me the honour to go out with +me. A young New York surgeon, Doctor Williams, obliged us by assuming +the risk which it would have been too much to ask Doctor McLaughlin to +undertake a second time. At my desire, the place and hour set were +those at which Tom Faringfield had met his death. I felt that the +memory of his dying face would be strongest, there and then, to make +my arm and sight quick and sure. + +A thaw had carried away much of the snow, and hence we had it not as +light as it had been for Tom's duel; although the moon made our +outlines and features perfectly distinct as we assembled in the +hollow, and it would make our pistol-barrels shine brightly enough +when the time came, as I ascertained by taking aim at an imaginary +mark. + +Falconer and I stood each alone, while the seconds stepped off the +paces and the surgeon lighted a small lantern which might enable him +to throw, upon a possible wound, rays more to the purpose than the +moon afforded. I was less agitated, I think, than the doctor himself, +who was new to such an affair. I kept my mind upon the change wrought +in the Faringfield household, upon the fate of Tom, upon what I +imagined would be Philip's feelings; and I had a thought, too, for the +disappointment of my old enemy Chubb if I could cap the firing signal +with a shot the fraction of a second before my antagonist could. We +were to stand with our backs toward each other, at the full distance, +and, upon the word, might turn and fire as soon as possible. To be the +first in wheeling round upon a heel, and covering the foe, was my one +concern, and, as I took my place, I dismissed all else from my mind, +to devote my entire self, bodily and mental, to that one series of +movements: all else but one single impression, and that was of +malicious exultation upon the face of Chubb. + +"You'll smile on t'other side of your face in a minute," thought I, +pressing my teeth together. + +I was giving my hand its final adjustment to the pistol, when suddenly +a man dashed out of the covert at one side of the hollow, and ran +toward us, calling out in a gruff voice: + +"Hold on a minute. Here's su'thin' fur you, Ensign Russell." + +We had all turned at the first sound of the man's tread, fearing we +had been spied upon and discovered. But I now knew there was no danger +of that kind, for the voice belonged to old Bill Meadows. + +"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, annoyed at the interruption. + +"Nothin'. Read this here. I've follered yuh all evenin', thinkin' to +ketch yuh alone. I gev my word to get it to yuh, fust thing; an' fur +my own sake, I tried to do it unbeknownst. But now I must do it anyhow +I ken. So take it, an' my compliments, an' I trust yuh to keep mum an' +ask no questions, an' furget 'twas me brung it. And I'll keep a shet +mouth about these here goings on. Only read it now, fur God's sake." + +He had handed me a sealed letter. My curiosity being much excited, I +turned to Falconer, and said: + +"Will you grant me permission? 'Twill take but a moment." + +"Certainly," said he. + +"Ay," added Chubb, against all the etiquette of the situation, "it can +be allowed, as you're not like to read any more letters." + +I tore it open, disdaining to reply in words to a gratuitous taunt I +could soon answer by deed. The doctor having handed me his lantern, I +held it in one hand, the letter in the other. The writing was that of +Philip Winwood, and the letter read as follows: + + "DEAR BERT:--I have learned what sad things have befallen. You + will easily guess my informant; but I know you will not use your + knowledge of my communication therewith, to the detriment + thereof. And I am sure that, since I ask it, you will not betray + (or, by any act or disclosure, imperil or hamper) the messenger + who brings this at risk of his life; for the matter is a private + one. + + "Pondering upon all that has occurred, I am put in a fear of your + forgetting whose right it is to avenge it, and of your taking + that duty to yourself, which belongs by every consideration to + me. This is to beg, therefore, that you will not forestall me; + that while I live you will leave this matter to me, at whatsoever + cost though it be to your pride and your impatience. Dear Bert, I + enjoin you, do not usurp my prerogative. By all the ties between + us, past and to come, I demand this of you. _The man is mine to + kill_. Let him wait my time, and I shall be the more, what I long + have been, Ever thine, + + "PHILIP." + +I thought over it for a full minute. He asked of me a grievous +disappointment; nay, something of a humiliation, too, so highly had I +carried myself, so triumphant had my enemy Chubb become in +anticipation, so derisive would he be in case of my withdrawal. + +If I receded, Chubb would have ground to think the message a device to +get me out of a peril at the last moment, after I had pretended to +face it so intrepidly thereunto. For I could not say what my letter +contained, or who it was from, without betraying Meadows and perhaps +Mr. Faringfield, which both Philip's injunction and my own will +prohibited my doing. Thus, I hesitated awhile before yielding to +Philip what he claimed so rightly as his own. But I am glad I had the +courage to face Chubb's probable suspicions and possible contempt. + +"Gentlemen," said I, folding up the letter for concealment and +preservation, "I am very sorry to have brought you out here for +nothing. I must make some other kind of reparation to you, Captain +Falconer. I can't fight you." + +There was a moment's pause; during which Lieutenant Chubb looked from +me to his principal, with a mirthful grin, as much as to say I was a +proven coward after all my swagger. But the captain merely replied: + +"Oh, let the matter rest as it is, then. I'm sorry I had to disappoint +a lady, to come out here on a fool's errand, that's all." + +He made that speech with intention, I'm sure, by way of revenge upon +me, though doubtless 'twas true enough; for he must have known how it +would sting a man who thought kindly of Madge Faringfield. It was the +first cutting thing I had ever heard him say; it showed that he was no +longer unwilling to antagonise me; it proved that he, too, could throw +off the gentleman when he chose: and it made him no longer difficult +for me to hate. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_Philip Comes at Last to London._ + + +A human life will drone along uneventfully for years with scarce a +perceptible progress, retrogression, or change; and then suddenly, +with a few leaps, will cover more of alteration and event in a week +than it has passed through in a decade. So will the critical +occurrences of a day fill chapters, after those of a year have failed +to yield more material than will eke out a paragraph. Experience +proceeds by fits and starts. Only in fiction does a career run in an +unbroken line of adventures or memorable incidents. + +The personal life of Philip Winwood, as distinguished from his +military career, which had no difference from that of other commanders +of rebel partisan horse, and which needs no record at my hands, was +marked by no conspicuous event from the night when he learned and +defeated Madge's plot, to the end of the war. The news of her +departure, and of Tom's death, came to him with a fresh shock, it is +true, but they only settled him deeper in the groove of sorrow, and in +the resolution to pay full retribution where it was due. + +He had no pusillanimous notion of the unworthiness of revenge. He +believed retaliation, when complete and inflicted without cost or +injury to the giver, to be a most logical and fitting thing. But he +knew that revenge is a two-edged weapon, and that it must be wielded +carefully, so as not to cause self-damage. He required, too, that it +should be wielded in open and honourable manner; and in that manner he +was resolved to use it upon Captain Falconer. As for Madge, I believe +he forgave her from the first, holding her "more in sorrow than in +anger," and pitying rather than reproaching. + +Well, he served throughout the war, keeping his sorrow to himself, +being known always for a quietly cheerful mien, giving and taking hard +blows, and always yielding way to others in the pressure for +promotion. Such was the state of affairs in the rebel army, that his +willingness to defer his claims for advancement, when there were +restless and ambitious spirits to be conciliated and so kept in the +service, was availed of for the sake of expediency. But he went not +without appreciation. On one occasion, when a discontented but useful +Pennsylvanian was pacified with a colonelcy, General Washington +remarked to Light Horse Harry Lee: "And yet you are but a major, and +Winwood remains a captain; but let me tell you, there is less honour +in the titles of general and colonel, as borne by many, than there is +in the mere names of Major Lee and Captain Winwood." + +When Lee's troop was sent to participate in the Southern campaign, +Philip's accompanied it, and he had hard campaigning under Greene, +which continued against our Southernmost forces until long after the +time of the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis's army at Yorktown, to the +combined rebel and French armies under Washington. It happened that +our battalion, wherein I was promoted to a lieutenantcy shortly after +my abortive meeting with Captain Falconer near Kingsbridge, went South +by sea for the fighting there, being the only one of De Lancey's +battalions that left the vicinity of New York. We had bloody work +enough then to balance our idleness in the years we had covered +outposts above New York, and 'twas but a small fraction of our number +that came home alive at last. I never met Philip while we were both in +the South, nor saw him till the war was over. + +Shiploads of our New York loyalists left, after Cornwallis's defeat at +Yorktown showed what the end was to be; some of them going to England +but many of them sailing to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, there to +begin afresh the toiling with the wilderness, and to build up new +English colonies in North America. Others contrived to make their way +by land to Canada, which thereby owes its English population mainly to +those who fled from the independent states rather than give up their +loyalty to the mother country. The government set up by the victorious +rebels had taken away the lands and homes of the loyalists, by acts of +attainder, and any who remained in the country did so at the risk of +life or liberty. What a time of sad leave-taking it was!--families +going forth poor to a strange land, who had lived rich in that of +their birth--what losses, what wrenches, what heart-rendings! And how +little compensation England could give them, notwithstanding all their +claims and petitions! Well, they would deserve little credit for their +loyalty if they had followed it without willingness to lose for it. + +But my mother and I had possessed nothing to lose in America but our +house and ground, our money being in the English funds. Fortunately, +and thanks to our insignificance, we had been overlooked in the first +act of attainder, and, taking warning by that, my mother had +gratefully accepted Mr. Faringfield's offer to buy our home, for which +we had thereafter paid him rent. Thus we had nothing to confiscate, +when the war was over. As for Mr. Faringfield, he was on the +triumphant side of Independence, which he had supported with secret +contributions from the first; of course he was not to be held +accountable for the treason of his eldest son, and the open service of +poor Tom on the king's side. + +My mother feared dreadful things when the victorious rebels should +take possession--imprisonment, trial for treason, and similar horrors; +and she was for sailing to England with the British army. But I flatly +refused to go, pretending I was no such coward, and that I would leave +when I was quite ready. I was selfish in this, of course; but I could +not bring myself to go so far from Fanny. Our union was still as +uncertain a possibility as ever. Only one thing was sure: she would +not leave her parents at present. + +The close of the war did not bring Philip back to us at once. On that +day when, the last of the British vessels having gone down the bay, +with the last British soldier aboard, the strangely empty-looking town +took on a holiday humour, and General Washington rode in by the Bowery +lane, with a number of his officers, and a few war-worn troops to make +up a kind of procession of entry, and the stars and stripes were run +up at the Battery--on that day of sadness, humiliation, and +apprehension to those of us loyalists who had dared stay, I would have +felt like cheering with the crowd, had Philip been one of those who +entered. But he was still in the South, recovering from a bullet wound +in his shoulder. + +My mother and I were thereafter the recipients of ominous looks, and +some uncomfortable hints and jeers, and our life was made constantly +unpleasant thereby. The sneers cast by one Major Wheeler upon us +loyalists, and upon our reasons for standing by the king, got me into +a duel with him at Weehawken, wherein I gave him the only wound he +ever received through his attachment to the cause of Independence. +Another such affair, which I had a short time afterward, near the +Bowery lane, and in which I shot a Captain Appleby's ear off, was +attributed by my mother to the same cause; but the real reason was +that the fellow had uttered an atrocious slander of Philip Winwood in +connection with the departure of Phil's wife. This was but one of the +many lies, on both sides of the ocean, that moved me at last to +attempt a true account of my friend's domestic trouble. + +My mother foresaw my continual engagement in such affairs if we +remained in a place where we were subject to constant offence, and +declared she would become distracted unless we removed ourselves. I +resisted until she vowed she would go alone, if I drove her to that. +And then I yielded, with a heart enveloped in a dark mist as to the +outcome. Well, I thought with a sigh, I can always write to Fanny, and +some day I shall come back for her. + +It was now Summer. One evening, I sat upon our front step, in a kind +of torpid state of mind through my refusal to contemplate the dismal +future. My eye turned listlessly down the street. The only moving +figure in it was that of a slender man approaching on the further side +of the way. He carried two valises, one with each hand, and leaned a +little forward as he strode, as if weary. Instantly I thought of years +ago, and another figure coming up that street, with both hands laden, +and walking in a manner of fatigue. I rose, gazed with a fast-beating +heart at the man coming nearer at every step, stifled a cry that +turned into a sob, and ran across the street. He saw me, stopped, set +down his burdens, and waited for me, with a tired, kind smile. I could +not speak aloud, but threw my arms around him, and buried my clouded +eyes upon his shoulder, whispering: "Phil! 'Tis you!" + +"Ay," said he, "back at last. I thought I'd walk up from the boat just +as I did that first day I came to New York." + +"And just as then," said I, having raised my face and released him, "I +was on the step yonder, and saw you coming, and noticed that you +carried baggage in each hand, and that you walked as if you were +tired." + +"I am tired," said he, "but I walk as my wounds let me." + +"But there's no cat this time," said I, attempting a smile. + +"No, there's no cat," he replied. "And no--" + +His eye turned toward the Faringfield garden gate, and he broke off +with the question: "How are they? and your mother?" + +I told him what I could, as I picked up one of his valises and +accompanied him across the street, thinking how I had done a similar +office on the former occasion, and of the pretty girl that had made +the scene so bright to both him and me. Alas, there was no pretty girl +standing at the gate, beside her proud and stately parents, and her +open-eyed little brother, to receive us. I remembered how Ned and +Fanny had come upon the scene, so that for a moment the whole family +had stood together at the gateway. + +"'Tis changed, isn't it?" said Philip, quietly, reading my thoughts as +we passed down the garden walk, upon which way of entrance we had +tacitly agreed in preference to the front door. "I can see the big dog +walking ahead of me, and hear the kitten purring in the basket, and +feel little Tom's soft hand, and see at the other side of me--well, +'tis the way of the world, Bert!" + +He had the same boyish look; notwithstanding his face was longer and +more careworn, and his hair was a little sprinkled with gray though he +was but thirty-one. + +I left him on the rear veranda, when old Noah had opened the hall door +and shouted a hysterical "Lor' bress me!--it's Massa Phil!" after a +moment's blinking inspection to make sure. From the cheered look on +Mr. Faringfield's face that evening, and the revived lustre in Mrs. +Faringfield's eyes, I could guess what welcome Philip had received +from the stricken pair. + +I told him the next day, in our garden, how matters stood with Fanny +and me, and that Captain Falconer had sailed for England with the +royal army. + +"I don't think Mr. Faringfield will hold out for ever," said Philip, +alluding to my hopes of Fanny. "'Faith, he ought to welcome the +certainty of happiness for at least one of his children. Maybe I can +put the matter to him in that light." + +"But Fanny herself will not leave, as long as she thinks they need +her." + +"Why, then, he must use his parental authority, and bid her come to +you. He's not the man who would have his child wait upon his death for +happiness. We must use the hope of grandchildren as a means of +argument. For you'll come back to America at last, no doubt, when old +hurts are forgot. And if you can come with a houseful of +youngsters--egad, I shall paint a picture to his mind, will not let +him rest till he sees it in way of accomplishment! Go to England +without fear, man; and trust me to bring things to pass before you've +been long away." + +"But you? Surely--" + +"Oh, I shall follow you soon. I have matters of my own to look to, +over there." + +He did not confide to me, at this time, his thoughts and intentions +regarding his wife (of whom we were then ignorant whether she was dead +or alive, but supposed she must be somewhere in London), or regarding +Captain Falconer; but I knew that it was to her future, and to his +settlement with Falconer, that he alluded. I guessed then, and +ascertained subsequently, that Phil gave Fanny also encouragement to +believe all should come right between her and me, and yet not to the +further sorrow of her parents. I divined it at the time, from the +hopeful manner in which she supported our departure, both in the busy +days preceding it, and in the hour of leave-taking. True, she broke +down on the ship, whither Philip and Cornelius had brought her to bid +us farewell; and she wept bitter tears on my mother's breast, which I +knew were meant chiefly for me. But at last she presented a brave face +for me to kiss, though 'twas rather a cold, limp hand I pressed as she +started down the ladder for the boat where Cornelius awaited. + +"Good-bye, lad," said Phil, with the old smile, which had survived all +his toils and hurts and sorrows; "I shall see you in London next, I +hope. And trust me--about Fanny." + +"Thank you, dear Phil, and God bless you! Always working for other +people's happiness, when your own--well, good-bye!" + +He had made no request as to my course in the possibility of my +meeting Madge in London; but he knew that _I_ knew what he would wish, +and I was glad he had not thought necessary to tell me. + +Philip and Cornelius rowed the boat back, Fanny waving her +handkerchief. We saw them land, and stand upon the wharf to watch our +ship weigh anchor. My mother would wave her handkerchief a moment, and +then apply it to her eyes, and then give it another little toss, and +then her eyes another touch. I stood beside her, leaning upon the +gunwale, with a lump in my throat. Suddenly I realised we were under +way. We continued to exchange farewell motions with the three upon the +wharf. How small Fanny looked! how slender was Philip! how the water +widened every instant between us and them! how long a time must pass +ere we should see them again! A kind of sudden consternation was upon +my mother's face, and in my heart, at the thought. 'Twas a +foretaste--indeed it might prove the actuality--of eternal separation. +Our three friends were at last hidden from our sight, and in the +despondency of that moment I thought what fools men are, to travel +about the world, and not cling all their days to the people, and the +places, that they love. + + * * * * * + +We lodged at first in Surrey Street, upon our arrival in London; but +when October came, and we had a preliminary taste of dirty fog, my +mother vowed she couldn't endure the damp climate and thick sky of the +town; and so we moved out to Hampstead, where we furnished a small +cottage, and contrived with economy to live upon the income of our +invested principal, which was now swelled by money we had received +from Mr. Faringfield for our home in New York. The proceeds of the +sale of our furniture there had paid our passage, and given us a start +in our new abode. Meanwhile, as an American loyalist who had suffered +by the war, and as a former servant of the king; though I had no claim +for a money indemnity, such as were presented on behalf of many; I was +lucky enough, through Mr. De Lancey's offices, to obtain a small +clerkship in the custom-house. And so we lived uneventfully, in hope +of the day when Phil should come to us, and of that when I might go +and bring back Fanny. + +The letters from Philip and Fanny informed us merely of the continued +health, and the revived cheerfulness, of Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield; and +presently of the good fortune of Mr. Cornelius in being chosen to fill +two pulpits in small towns sufficiently near New York to permit his +residence in Queen Street. Mr. Faringfield and Philip were occupied in +setting the former's business upon its feet again, and something like +the old routine had been resumed in the bereaved house. I knew that +all this was due to Phil's imperceptible work. At last there came +great news: Philip was to follow his letter to England, in the next +Bristol vessel after the one that carried it. 'Twas but a brief note +in which he told us this. "There is some news," wrote he, "but I will +save it for word of mouth. Be prepared for a surprise that I shall +bring." + +With what expectation we awaited his coming, what conjectures we made +regarding the promised surprise as we talked the news over every +evening in the little parlour where we dined on my return from the +city, I leave my reader to imagine. I had my secret notion that it +concerned Fanny and me. + +At the earliest time when a ship might be expected to follow the one +by which the letter came, I began to call every evening, ere starting +for Hampstead, at the inn where the Bristol coaches arrived. Many a +long wait I had in vain when a coach happened to be late. I grew so +accustomed to the disappointment of seeing no familiar figure among +the passengers alighting, that sometimes I felt as if Phil's letter +were a delusion and he never would appear. + +But one evening as I stared as usual with the crowd in the coach yard, +and had watched three portly strangers already emerge from the open +door to the steps, and was prepared for the accustomed sinking of my +heart, what did that heart do but give a great bound so as almost to +choke me! There he was in the doorway, the same old Phil, with the +same kindly face. I rushed forward. Before I reached him, he had +turned around toward the inside of the coach, as if he would help some +one out after him. "Some decrepit fellow traveller," thought I, and +looked up indifferently to see what sort of person it might be: and +there, as I live, stepping out from the coach, and taking his offered +hand, was Fanny! + +I was at her other side before either of them knew it, holding up my +hand likewise. They glanced at me in the same instant; and Phil's glad +smile came as the accompaniment to Fanny's joyous little cry. I had an +arm around each in a moment; and we created some proper indignation +for a short space by blocking up the way from the stage-coach. + +"Come!" I cried. "We'll take a hackney-coach! How happy mother will +be!--But no, you must be hungry. Will you eat here first?--a cup of +coffee? a glass of wine?" + +But they insisted upon waiting till we got to Hampstead; and, scarce +knowing what I was about, yet accomplishing wonders in my excitement, +I had a coach ready, and their trunks and bags transferred, and all of +us in the coach, before I stopped to breathe. And before I could +breathe twice, it seemed, we were rolling over the stones Northward. + +"Sure it's a dream!" said I. "To think of it! Fanny in London!" + +"My father would have it so," said she, demurely. + +"Ay," added Phil, "and she's forbidden to go back to New York till she +takes you with her. 'Faith, man, am I not a prophet?" + +"You're more than a prophet; you're a providence," I cried. "'Tis your +doing!" + +"Nonsense. 'Tis Mr. Faringfield's. And that implacable man, not +content with forcing an uncongenial marriage upon this helpless +damsel, requires that you immediately resign your high post in the +king's service, and live upon the pittance he settles upon you as his +daughter's husband." + +"'Tis too generous. I can't accept." + +"You must, Bert," put in Fanny, "or else you can't have me. 'Tis one +of papa's conditions." + +"But," Phil went on, "in order that this unhappy child may become used +to the horrible idea of this marriage by degrees, she is to live with +your mother a few months while I carry you off on a trip for my +benefit and pleasure: and that's one of my conditions: for it wouldn't +do for you to go travelling about the country after you were married, +leaving your wife at home, and Fanny abominates travelling. But as +soon as you and I have seen a very little of this part of the world, +you're to be married and live happy ever after." + +We had a memorable evening in our little parlour that night. 'Twas +like being home again, my mother said--thereby admitting inferentially +the homesickness she had refused to confess directly. The chief piece +of personal news the visitors brought was that the Rev. Mr. Cornelius +had taken a wife, and moved into our old house, which 'twas pleasant +to know was in such friendly hands; and that the couple considered it +their particular mission to enliven the hours of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, with whom they spent half their time. + +Philip's first month in England was spent in exploring London, +sometimes with me, sometimes alone, for 'tis needless to say in whose +society I chose to pass much of my time. What sights he saw; what +unlikely corners he sought out because some poet had been born, or +died, or drunk wine there; what streets he roamed: I am sure I never +could tell. I know that all the time he kept eyes alert for a certain +face, ears keen for a certain name; but neither in the streets, nor at +the shops, nor in the parks, nor at the play, did he catch a glimpse +of Margaret; nor in the coffee-house, or tavern, or gaming-place, or +in the region of the clubs, did he hear a chance mention of the name +of Falconer. And so, presently, we set about making the tour he had +spoken of. + +There was a poor family of Long Island loyalists named Doughty, that +had settled in the seacoast town of Hastings in Sussex, in order that +they might follow the fisheries, which had been their means of +livelihood at home. Considering that a short residence in the more +mild and sunny climate of the Channel might be a pleasant change for +my mother, and not disagreeable to Fanny, we arranged that, during the +absence of Phil and me, we should close our cottage, and the ladies +should board with these worthy though humble people, who would afford +them all needful masculine protection. Having seen them comfortably +established, we set forth upon our travels. + +We visited the principal towns and historic places of England and +Scotland, Philip having a particular interest in Northamptonshire, +where his father's line sprang from (Sir Ralph Winwood having been a +worthy of some eminence in the reigns of Elizabeth and James),[10] and +in Edinburgh, the native place of his mother. Cathedrals, churches, +universities, castles, tombs of great folk, battle-fields--'twould +fill a book to describe all the things and places we saw; most of +which Phil knew more about than the people did who dwelt by them. From +England we crossed to France, spent a fortnight in Paris, went to +Rheims, thence to Strasburg, thence to Frankfort; came down the Rhine, +and passed through parts of Belgium and Holland before taking vessel +at Amsterdam for London. "I must leave Italy, the other German states, +and the rest till another time," said Philip. It seemed as if we had +been gone years instead of months, when at last we were all home again +in our cottage at Hampstead. + +After my marriage, though Mr. Faringfield's handsome settlement would +have enabled Fanny and me to live far more pretentiously, we were +content to remain in the Hampstead cottage. Fanny would not hear to +our living under a separate roof from that of my mother, whose +constant society she had come to regard as necessary to her happiness. + +Philip now arranged to pursue the study of architecture in the office +of a practitioner of that art; and he gave his leisure hours to the +improving of his knowledge of London. He made acquaintances; passed +much time in the Pall Mall taverns; and was able to pilot me about the +town, and introduce me to many agreeable habitués of the +coffee-houses, as if he were the elder resident of London, and I were +the newcomer. And so we arrived at the Spring of 1786, and a momentous +event. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_We Meet a Play-actress There._ + + +It was Philip's custom, at this time, to attend first nights at the +playhouses, as well from a love of the theatre as from the possibility +that he might thus come upon Captain Falconer. He always desired my +company, which I was the readier to grant for that I should recognise +the captain in any assemblage, and could point him out to Phil, who +had never seen him. We took my mother and Fanny excepting when they +preferred to stay at home, which was the case on a certain evening in +this Spring of 1786, when we went to Drury Lane to witness the +reappearance of a Miss Warren who had been practising her art the +previous three years in the provinces. This long absence from London +had begun before my mother and I arrived there, and consequently +Philip and I had that evening the pleasurable anticipation of seeing +upon the stage a much-praised face that was quite new to us. + +[Illustration: "IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES."] + +There was the usual noisy throng of coaches, chairs, people afoot, +lackeys, chair-men, boys, and such, in front of the playhouse when we +arrived, and though we scanned all faces on whom the light fell, we +had our wonted disappointment regarding that of Captain Falconer. We +made our way to the pit, and passed the time till the bell and the +chorus "Hats off!" signalled the rising of the green curtain, in +watching the chattering assemblage that was every moment swelled from +the doors; but neither among the lace-ruffled bucks and macaronis who +chaffed with the painted and powdered ladies in the boxes, nor among +those dashing gentry who ogled the same towering-haired ladies from +the benches around us in the pit, did I perceive the elegant and easy +captain. We therefore fell back upon the pleasure to be expected from +the play itself, and when the curtain rose, I, for one, was resigned +to the absence of him we had come partly in quest of. + +No sooner had Miss Warren come upon the stage, in her favourite part +of Fanny in "The Clandestine Marriage," revived for the occasion, than +I knew her as Madge Faringfield. I bent forward, with staring eyes and +gaping mouth; if I uttered any exclamation it was drowned in the sound +of the hand-clapping that greeted her. While she curtseyed and +pleasantly smiled, in response to this welcome, I turned abruptly to +Phil, my eyes betokening my recognition. He nodded, without a word or +any other movement, and continued to look at her, his face wearing a +half-smiling expression of gentle gladness. + +I knew, from my old acquaintance with him, that he was under so great +emotion that he dared not speak. It was, indeed, a cessation of secret +anxiety to him, a joy such as only a constant lover can understand, to +know that she was alive, well, with means of livelihood, and beautiful +as ever. Though she was now thirty-one, she looked, on the stage, not +a day older than upon that sad night when he had thrown her from him, +six years and more before--nay, than upon that day well-nigh eleven +years before, when he had bade her farewell to go upon his first +campaign. She was still as slender, still had the same girlish air and +manner. + +Till the curtain fell upon the act, we sat without audible remark, +delighting our eyes with her looks, our ears with her voice, our +hearts (and paining them at the same time) with the memories her every +movement, every accent, called up. + +"How shall we see her?" were Phil's first words at the end of the act. + +"We may be allowed to send our names, and see her in the greenroom," +said I. "Or perhaps you know somebody who can take us there without +any preliminaries." + +"Nay," returned Philip, after a moment's thought, "there will be other +people there. I shouldn't like strangers to see--you understand. We +shall wait till the play is over, and then go to the door where the +players come out. 'Twill take her some time to dress for going +home--we can't miss her that way." + +I sympathised with his feelings against making their meeting a scene +for the amusement of frivolous lookers-on, and we waited patiently +enough. Neither of us could have told, when the play was over, what +was the story it presented. Even Madge's speeches we heard with less +sense of their meaning than emotion at the sound of her voice. If this +was the case with me, how much more so, as I could see by side-glances +at his face, was it with Philip! Between the acts, we had little use +for conversation. One of our thoughts, though neither uttered it, was +that, despite the reputation that play-actresses generally bore, a +woman _could_ live virtuously by the profession, and in it, and that +several women since the famous Mrs. Bracegirdle were allowed to have +done so. 'Twas only necessary to look at our Madge, to turn the +possibility in her case into certainty. + +When at last the play was ended, we forced our way through the +departing crowd so as to arrive almost with the first upon the scene +of waiting footmen, shouting drivers, turbulent chair-men, clamorous +boys with dim lanterns or flaming torches, and such attendants upon +the nightly emptying of a playhouse. Through this crush we fought our +way, hastened around into a darker street, comparatively quiet and +deserted, and found a door with a feeble lamp over it, which, as a +surly old fellow within told us, served as stage entrance to the +theatre. We crossed the dirty street, and took up our station in the +shadow opposite the door; whence a few actors not required in the +final scene, or not having to make much alteration of attire for the +street, were already emerging, bent first, I suppose, for one or other +of the many taverns or coffee-houses about Covent Garden near at hand. + +While we were waiting, two chair-men came with their vehicle and set +it down at one side of the door, and a few boys and women gathered in +the hope of obtaining sixpence by some service of which a player might +perchance be in need on issuing forth. And presently a coach appeared +at the corner of the street, and stopped there, whereupon a gentleman +got out of it, gave the driver and footman some commands, and while +the conveyance remained where it was, approached alone, at a blithe +gait, and took post near us, though more in the light shed by the lamp +over the stage door. + +"Gad's life!" I exclaimed, in a whisper. + +"What is it?" asked Phil, in a similar voice. + +"Falconer!" I replied, ere I had thought. + +Philip gazed at the newcomer, who was heedless of our presence. Phil +seemed about to stride forward to him, but reconsidered, and whispered +to me, in a strange tone: + +"What can he be doing here, where _she_--? You are sure that's the +man?" + +"Yes--but not now--'tis not the place--we came for another purpose--" + +"I know--but if I lose him!" + +"No fear of that. I'll keep track of him--learn where he's to be +found--while you meet her." + +"But if he--if she--" + +"Wait and see. His being here, may not in any way concern her. Mere +coincidence, no doubt." + +"I hope to God it is!" whispered Phil, though his voice quivered. +"Nay, I'll believe it is, too, till I see otherwise." + +"Good! And when I learn his haunts, as I shall before I sleep, you may +find him at any time." + +And so we continued to wait, keeping in the darkness, so that the +captain, even if he had deigned to be curious, could not have made out +our faces from where he stood. Philip watched him keenly, to stamp his +features upon memory, as well as they could be observed in the yellow +light of the sickly lamp; but yet, every few moments Phil cast an +eager glance at the door. I grant I was less confident that Falconer's +presence was mere coincidence, than I had appeared, and I was in a +tremble of apprehension for what Madge's coming might reveal. + +The captain, who was very finely dressed, and, like us, carried a cane +but no sword, allowed impatience to show upon his usually serene +countenance: evidently he was unused to waiting in such a place, and I +wondered why he did not make free of the greenroom instead of doing +so. But he composed himself to patience as with a long breath, and +fell to humming softly a gay French air the while he stood leaning +motionlessly, in an odd but graceful attitude, upon his slender cane. +Sometimes he glanced back toward the waiting coach, and then, without +change of position as to his body, returned his gaze to the door. + +Two or three false alarms were occasioned him, and us, by the coming +forth of ladies who proved, as soon as the light struck them, to be +other than the person we awaited. But at last she appeared, looking +her years and cares a little more than upon the stage, but still +beautiful and girlish. She was followed by a young waiting-woman; but +before we had time to note this, or to step out of the shadow, we saw +Captain Falconer bound across the way, seize her hand, and bend very +gallantly to kiss it. + +So, then, it was for her he had waited: such was the bitter thought of +Phil and me; and how our hearts sickened at it, may be imagined when I +say that his hope and mine, though unexpressed, had been to find her +penitent and hence worthy of all forgiveness, in which case she would +not have renewed even acquaintance with this captain. And there he +was, kissing her hand! + +But ere either of us could put our thought into speech, our sunken +hearts were suddenly revived, by Madge's conduct. + +She drew her hand instantly away, and as soon as she saw who it was +that had seized it, she took on a look of extreme annoyance and anger, +and would have hastened past him, but that he stood right in her way. + +"You again!" she said. "Has my absence been for nothing, then?" + +"Had you stayed from London twice three years, you would have found me +the same, madam," he replied. + +"Then I must leave London again, that's all," said she. + +"It shall be with me, then," said he. "My coach is waiting yonder." + +"And my chair is waiting here," said she, snatching an opportunity to +pass him and to step into the sedan, of which the door was invitingly +open. It was not her chair, but one that stood in solicitation of some +passenger from the stage door; as was now shown by one of the +chair-men asking her for directions. She bade her maid hire a boy with +a light, and lead the way afoot; and told the chair-men to follow the +maid. The chair door being then closed, and the men lifting their +burden, her orders were carried out. + +Neither Philip nor I had yet thought it opportune to appear from our +concealment, and now he whispered that, for the avoidance of a scene +before spectators, it would be best for him to follow the chair, and +accost her at her own door. I should watch Falconer to his abode, and +each of us should eventually go home independently of the other. Our +relief to find that the English captain's presence was against Madge's +will, needed no verbal expression; it was sufficiently manifest +otherwise. + +Before Philip moved out to take his place behind the little +procession, Falconer, after a moment's thought, walked rapidly past to +his coach, and giving the driver and footman brief orders, stepped +into it. 'Twas now time for both Phil and me to be in motion, and we +went down the way together. The chair passed the coach, which +immediately fell in behind it, the horses proceeding at a walk. + +"He intends to follow her," said I. + +"Then we shall follow both," said Phil, "and await events. 'Tis no use +forcing a scene in this neighbourhood." + +So Philip's quest and mine lay together, and we proceeded along the +footway, a little to the rear of the coach, which in turn was a little +to the rear of the chair. Passing the side of Drury Lane Theatre, the +procession soon turned into Bow Street, and leaving Covent Garden +Theatre behind, presently resumed a Southwestward course, deflecting +at St. Martin's Lane so as to come at last into Gerrard Street, and +turning thence Northward into Dean Street. Here the maid led the +chair-men along the West side of the way; but Philip and I kept the +East side. At last the girl stopped before a door with a pillared +porch, and the carriers set down the chair. + +Instantly Captain Falconer's footman leaped from the box of the coach, +and, while the maid was at the chair door to help her mistress, dashed +into the porch and stood so as to prevent any one's reaching the door +of the house. The captain himself, springing out of the coach, was +at Madge's side as soon as she had emerged from the chair. Philip +and I, gliding unseen across the street, saw him hand something to +the front chair-man which made that rascal open his mouth in +astonishnent--'twas, no doubt, a gold piece or two--and heard him +say: + +"You and your fellow, begone, and divide that among you. Quick! +Vanish!" + +The men obeyed with alacrity, bearing their empty chair past Phil and +me toward Gerrard Street at a run. The captain, by similar means, sent +the boy with the light scampering off in the opposite direction. +Meanwhile, Philip and I having stopped behind a pillar of the next +porch for a moment's consultation, Madge was bidding the footman stand +aside from before her door. This we could see by the rays of a street +lamp, which were at that place sufficient to make a carried light not +absolutely necessary. + +"Come into the coach, madam," said Falconer, seizing one of her hands. +"You remember my promise. I swear I shall keep it though I hang for +it! Don't make a disturbance and compel me to use force, I beg. You +see, the street is deserted." + +"You scoundrel!" she answered. "If you really think you can carry me +off, you're much--" + +"Nay," he broke in, "actresses _are_ carried off, and not always for +the sake of being talked about, neither! Fetch the maid, Richard--I +wouldn't deprive a lady of her proper attendance. Pray pardon +this--you put me to it, madam!" + +With which, he grasped her around the waist, lifted her as if she were +a child, and started with her toward the coach. The footman, a huge +fellow, adopted similar measures with the waiting-woman, who set up a +shrill screaming that made needless any cries on Madge's part. + +Philip and I dashed forward at this, and while I fell upon the +footman, Phil staggered the captain with a blow. As Falconer turned +with an exclamation, to see by whom he was attacked, Madge tore +herself from his relaxed hold, ran to the house door, and set the +knocker going at its loudest. A second blow from Philip sent the +captain reeling against his coach wheel. I, meanwhile, had drawn the +footman from the maid; who now joined her mistress and continued +shrieking at the top of her voice. The fellow, seeing his master +momentarily in a daze, and being alarmed by the knocking and +screaming, was put at a loss. The house door opening, and the noise +bringing people to their windows, and gentlemen rushing out of Jack's +tavern hard by, Master Richard recovered from his irresolution, ran +and forced his master into the coach, got in after him to keep him +there, and shouted to the coachman to drive off. + +"Very well, madam," cried Falconer through the coach door, before it +closed with a bang, "but I'll keep my word yet, I promise you!" +Whereupon, the coach rolled away behind galloping horses. + +Forgetting, in the moment's excitement, my intention of dogging the +captain to his residence, I accompanied Philip to the doorway, where +stood Madge with her maid and a house servant. She was waiting to +thank her protectors, whom, in the rush and partial darkness, she had +not yet recognised. It was, indeed, far from her thoughts that we two, +whom she had left so many years before in America, should turn up at +her side in London at such a moment. + +We took off our hats, and bowed. Her face had already formed a smile +of thanks, when we raised our heads into the light from a candle the +house servant carried. Madge gave a little startled cry of joy, and +looked from one to the other of us to make sure she was not under a +delusion: then fondly murmuring Phil's name and mine in what faint +voice was left her, she made first as if she would fall into his arms; +but recollecting with a look of pain how matters stood between them, +she drew back, steadied herself against the door-post, and dropped her +eyes from his. + +"We should like to talk with you a little, my dear," said Phil gently. +"May we come in?" + +There was a gleam of new-lighted hope in her eyes as she looked up and +answered tremulously: + +"'Twill be a happiness--more than I dared expect." + +We followed the servant with the candle up-stairs to a small +drawing-room, in which a table was set with bread, cheese, cold beef, +and a bottle of claret. + +"'Tis my supper," said Madge. "If I had known I should have such +guests--you will do me the honour, will you not?" + +Her manner was so tentative and humble, so much that of one who scarce +feels a right even to plead, so different from that of the old petted +and radiant Madge, that 'twould have taken a harder man than Philip to +decline. And so, when the servant had placed additional chairs, down +we sat to supper with Miss Warren, of Drury Lane Theatre, who had sent +her maid to answer the inquiries of the alarmed house concerning the +recent tumult in the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_We Intrude upon a Gentleman at a Coffee-house._ + + +Little was eaten at that supper, to which we sat down in a constraint +natural to the situation. Philip was presently about to assume the +burden of opening the conversation, when Madge abruptly began: + +"I make no doubt you recognised him, Bert--the man with the coach." + +"Yes. Philip and I saw him outside the theatre." + +"And followed him, in following you," added Philip. "We had +intended--" + +"You must not suppose--" she interrupted; but, after a moment's halt +of embarrassment, left the sentence unfinished, and made another +beginning: "I never saw him or heard of him, after I left New York, +till I had been three years on the stage. Then, when the war was over, +he came back to London, and chanced to see me play at Drury Lane. He +knew me in spite of my stage name, and during that very performance I +found him waiting in the greenroom. I had no desire for any of his +society, and told him so. But it seems that, finding me--admired, and +successful in the way I had resorted to, he could not be content till +he regained my--esteem. If I had shown myself friendly to him then, I +should soon have been rid of him: but instead, I showed a resolution +to avoid him; and he is the kind of man who can't endure a repulse +from a woman. To say truth, he thinks himself invincible to 'em all, +and when he finds one of 'em proof against him, even though she may +once have seemed--when she didn't know her mind--well, she is the +woman he must be pestering, to show that he's not to be resisted. + +"And so, at last, to be rid of his plaguing, I went away from London, +and took another stage name, and acted in the country. Only Mr. and +Mrs. Sheridan were in the secret of this: 'twas Mr. Sheridan gave me +letters to the country managers. That was in the Fall of '83. Well, I +heard after awhile that he too had gone into the country, to dance +attendance on an old aunt, whose heir he had got the chance of being, +through his cousin's death. But I knew if I came back to London he +would hear of it, and then, sure, farewell to all my peace! He had +continually threatened to carry me off in a coach to some village by +the Channel, and take me across to France in a fishing-smack. When I +declared I would ask the magistrates for protection, he said they +would laugh at me as a play-actress trying to make herself talked +about. I took that to be true, and so, as I've told you, I left +London. + +"Well, after more than two years, I thought he must have put me out of +his mind, and so I returned, and made my reappearance to-night. And, +mercy on me!--there he was, waiting outside the theatre. From his +appearance, I suppose the aunt has died and he has come into the +money. He followed me home, as you saw; and for a moment, when he was +carrying me toward the coach, I vow I had a fear of being rushed away +to a seaport, and taken by force, on some fisherman's boat, across the +Channel. And then, all of a sudden, 'twas as if you two had sprung out +of the earth. Where did you come from? How was it? Oh, tell me +all--all the news! Poor Tom! I thought I should die when I heard of +his death. 'Twas--'twas Falconer told me--how he was killed in a +skirmish with the--What's the matter? Why do you look so? Isn't it +true? I entreat--!" + +"Did Falconer tell you Tom died that way?" I blurted out, hotly, ere +Phil could check me. + +"In truth, he did! How was it?" She had turned white as a sheet. + +"'Twas Falconer killed him in a duel," said I, with indignation, "the +very night after you sailed!" + +"What, Fal--! A duel! My God, on my account, then! Oh, I never knew +that! Oh, Tom--little Tom--the dear little fellow--'twas I killed +him!" She flung her head forward upon the table, and sobbed wildly, so +that I repented of my outspoken anger at Falconer's deception of her. +For some minutes her grief was pitiful to see. If ever there was the +anguish of remorse, it was then. I sat sobered, leaving it to Phil to +apply comfort, which, when her outburst of tears had spent its +violence, he undertook to do. + +"Well, well, Madge," said he, softly, "'tis done and past now, and not +for us to recall. 'Twas an honourable death, such as he would never +have shrunk from; and he has long been past all sorrow. The most of +his life, while it lasted, was happy; and you could never have +foreseen. He will not be unavenged, take my word of that!" + +But it was a long time ere Phil could restore her to composure. When +he had done so, he asked her what had become of Ned. Thereupon she +told us all that I have recorded in a former chapter, of their first +days in London, and the events leading to her acceptance of Mr. +Sheridan's offer. After she had been acting for some time, under the +name of Miss Warren, Ned chanced to come to the play, and recognised +her. He thereupon dogged her, in miserable plight, claiming some +return of the favours which he vowed he had lavished upon her. She put +him upon a small pension, but declared that if he molested her with +further demands she would send him to jail for robbing her. She had +not seen him since; he had called regularly upon her man of business +for his allowance, until lately, when he had ceased to appear. + +Of what had occurred before she turned actress, she told us all, I +say; for the news of Tom's real fate had put her into a state for +withholding nothing. Never was confession more complete; uttered as it +was in a stricken voice, broken as it was by convulsive sobs, marked +as it was by falling tears, hesitations for phrases less likely to +pain Philip, remorseful lowerings of her eyes. She reverted, finally, +to her acquaintance with Falconer in New York, and finished with the +words: + +"But I protest I have never been guilty of the worst--the one thing--I +swear it, Philip; before God, I do!" + +If any load was taken from Phil's mind by this, he refrained from +showing it. + +"I came in search of you," said he, in a low voice, "to see what I +could do toward your happiness. I knew that in your situation, a wife +separated from her husband, dependent on heaven knew what for a +maintenance, you must have many anxious, distressful hours. If I had +known where to find you, I should have sent you money regularly from +the first, and eased your mind with a definite understanding. And now +I wish to do this--nay, I _will_ do it, for it is my right. Whatever +may have happened, you are still the Madge Faringfield I--I loved from +the first; nothing can make you another woman to me: and though you +chose to be no longer my wife, 'tis impossible that while I live I can +cease to be your husband." + +The corners of her lips twitched, but she recovered herself with a +disconsolate sigh. "Chose to be no longer your wife," she repeated. +"Yes, it appeared so. I wanted to shine in the world. I have shone--on +the stage, I mean; but that's far from the way I had looked to. A +woman in my situation--a wife separated from her husband--can never +shine as I had hoped to, I fancy. But I've been admired in a way--and +it hasn't made me happy. Admiration can't make a woman happy if she +has a deeper heart than her desire of admiration will fill. If I could +have forgot, well and good; but I couldn't forget, and can't forget. +And one must have love, and devotion; but after having known yours, +Philip, whose else could I find sufficient?" + +And now there was a pause while each, fearing that the other might not +desire reunion, hesitated to propose it; and so, each one waiting for +the other to say the word, both left it unsaid. When the talk was +finally renewed, it was with a return of the former constraint. + +She asked us, with a little stiffness of manner, when we had come to +London; which led to our relation, between us, of all that had passed +since her departure from New York. She opened her eyes at the news of +our residence in Hampstead, and lost her embarrassment in her glad, +impulsive acceptance of my invitation to come and see us as soon as +possible. While Philip and she still kept their distance, as it were, +I knew not how far to go in cordiality, or I should have pressed her +to come and live with us. She wept and laughed, at the prospect of +seeing Fanny and my mother, and declared they must visit her in town. +And then her tongue faltered as the thought returned of Falconer's +probable interference with the quiet and safety of her further +residence in London; and her face turned anxious. + +"'Faith! you need have no fear on that score," said Philip, quietly. +"Where does he live?" + +She did not know, but she named a club, and a tavern, from which he +had dated importunate letters to her before she left London. + +"Well," said Philip, rising, "I shall see a lawyer to-morrow, and you +may expect to hear from him soon regarding the settlement I make upon +you." + +"You are too kind," she murmured. "I have no right to accept it of +you." + +"Oh, yes, you have. I am always your husband, I tell you; and you will +have no choice but to accept. I know not what income you get by +acting; but this will suffice if you choose to leave the stage." + +"But you?" she replied faintly, rising. "Shall I not see--?" + +"I shall leave England in a few days: I don't know how long I shall be +abroad. But there will be Bert, and Fanny, and Mrs. Russell--I know +you may command them for anything." There was an oppressive pause now, +during which she looked at him wistfully, hoping he might at the last +moment ask her that, which he waited to give her a final opportunity +of asking him. But neither dared, for fear of the other's hesitation +or refusal. And so, at length, with a good-bye spoken in an unnatural +voice on each side, the two exchanged a hand-clasp, and Philip left +the room. She stood pale and trembling, bereft of speech, while I told +her that I should wait upon her soon. Then I followed Philip +down-stairs and to the street. + +"I will stay to-night at Jack's tavern yonder," said he. "I can watch +this house, in case that knave should return to annoy her. Go you +home--Fanny and your mother will be anxious. And come for me to-morrow +at the tavern, as early as you can. You may tell them what you see +fit, at home. That's all, I think--'tis very late. Good night!" + +I sought a hackney-coach, and went home to relieve the fears of the +ladies, occasioned by our long absence. My news that Margaret was +found (I omitted mention of Captain Falconer in my account) put the +good souls into a great flutter of joy and excitement, and they would +have it that they should go in to see her the first thing on the +morrow, a resolution I saw no reason to oppose. So I took them with me +to town in the morning, left them at Madge's lodgings, and was gone to +join Philip ere the laughing and crying of their meeting with her was +half-done. + +As there was little chance to find Captain Falconer stirring early, +Phil and I gave the forenoon to his arrangements with his man of law +at Lincoln's Inn. When these were satisfactorily concluded, and a +visit incidental to them had been made to a bank in the city, we +refreshed ourselves at the Globe tavern in Fleet Street, and then +turned our faces Westward. + +At the tavern that Madge had named, we learned where Falconer abode, +but, proceeding to his lodgings, found he had gone out. We looked in +at various places whither we were directed; but 'twas not till late in +the afternoon, that Philip caught sight of him writing a letter at a +table in the St. James Coffeehouse. + +Philip recognised him from the view he had obtained the previous +night; but, to make sure, he nudged me to look. On my giving a nod of +confirmation, Philip went to him at once, and said: + +"Pray pardon my interrupting: you are Captain Falconer, I believe." + +The captain looked up, and saw only Philip, for I stood a little to +the rear of the former's elbow. + +"I believe so, too, sir," he replied urbanely. + +"Our previous meeting was so brief," said Philip, "that I doubt you +did not observe my face so as to recall it now." + +"That must be the case," said the captain, "for I certainly do not +remember having ever met you." + +"And yet our meeting was no longer ago than last night--in Dean +Street." + +The captain's face changed: he gazed, half in astonishment, half in a +dawning resentment. + +"The deuce, sir! Have you intruded upon me to insult me?" + +"'Faith, sir, I've certainly intruded upon you for no friendly +purpose." + +Falconer continued to gaze, in wonder as well as annoyance. + +"Who the devil are you, sir?" he said at last. + +"My name is Winwood, sir--Captain Winwood, late of the American army +of Independence." + +Falconer opened his eyes wide, parted his lips, and turned a little +pale. At that moment, I shifted my position; whereupon he turned, and +saw me. + +"And Russell, too!" said he. "Well, this is a--an odd meeting, +gentlemen." + +"Not a chance one," said Philip. "I have been some time seeking you." + +"Well, well," replied the captain, recovering his self-possession. "I +imagine I know your purpose, sir." + +"That will spare my explaining it. You will, of course, accommodate +me?" + +"Oh, yes; I see no way out of it. Gad, I'm the most obliging of +men--Mr. Russell will vouch for it." + +"Then I beg you will increase the obligation by letting us despatch +matters without the least delay." + +"Certainly, if you will have it so--though I abominate hurry in all +things." + +"To-morrow at dawn, I hope, will not be too soon for your +preparations?" + +"Why, no, I fancy not. Let me see. One moment, I pray." + +He called a waiter, and asked: + +"Thomas, is there any gentleman of my acquaintance in the house at +present?" + +"Oh, a score, sir. There's Mr. Hidsleigh hup-stairs, and--" + +"Mr. Idsleigh will do. Ask him to grant me the favour of coming down +for a minute." The waiter hastened away. "Mr. Russell, of course, +represents you, sir," the captain added, to Philip. + +"Yes, sir; and you are the challenged party, of course." + +"I thank you, sir. If Mr. Russell will wait, I will introduce my +friend here, and your desire for expedition may be carried out." + +"I am much indebted, sir," said Philip; and requesting me to join him +later at the tavern in Dean Street, he took his leave. + +When Mr. Idsleigh, a fashionable young buck whom I now recalled having +once seen in the company of Lord March, had presented himself, a very +brief explanation on Falconer's part sufficed to enlist his services +as second; whereupon the captain desired affably that he might be +allowed to finish his letter, and Idsleigh and I retired to a +compartment at the farther end of the room. Idsleigh regarded me with +disdainful indifference, and conducted his side of the preliminaries +in a bored fashion, as if the affair were of even less consequence +than Falconer had pretended to consider it. He set me down as a +nobody, a person quite out of the pale of polite society, and one whom +it was proper to have done with in the shortest time, and with the +fewest words, possible. I was equally chary of speech, and it was +speedily settled that our principals should fight with small swords, +at sunrise, at a certain spot in Hyde Park; and Idsleigh undertook to +provide a surgeon. He then turned his back on me, and walked over to +Falconer, without the slightest civility of leave-taking. + +I went first in a hackney-coach to Hyde Park, to ascertain exactly the +spot which Mr. Idsleigh had designated. Having done so, I returned to +Dean Street; and, in order that I might without suspicion accompany +Philip before daybreak, I called at Madge's lodgings, and suggested +that my mother and Fanny should pass the night in her house (in which +I had observed there were rooms to let) and take her to Hampstead the +next day; while I should sleep at the tavern. This plan was readily +adopted. Thereupon, rejoining Philip, I went with him to the Strand, +where he engaged a post-chaise to be in waiting for him and me the +next morning, for our flight in the event of the duel having the fatal +termination he desired. + +"We'll take a hint from Captain Falconer's threat," said Phil: "ride +post to Hastings, and have the Doughty boys sail us across to France. +You'd best write a letter this evening, to leave at Madge's lodgings +after the affair, explaining your departure, to Fanny and your mother. +Afterward, you can either send for them to come to France, or you can +return to Hampstead when the matter blows over. I might have spared +you these inconveniences and risks, by getting another second; but I +knew you wouldn't stand that." + +And there, indeed, he spoke the truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +_The Last, and Most Eventful, of the History._ + + +I took my mother and Fanny to the play that night, to see Madge act, +and we three met her after the performance and were driven to her +lodgings with her. I then bade the ladies good-night, with a secret +tenderness arising from the possibility, unknown to them, that our +parting then might be for as many months as they supposed hours. + +Returning to Philip at the tavern, I found he had passed the evening +in writing letters; among others, one for me to copy in my own name, +to be left at Madge's lodgings in case of my having to flee the +country for awhile. It was so phrased that the result of the duel, +whether in Philip's death or his antagonist's, could be told by the +insertion of a single line, after its occurrence. + +Phil and I rose betimes the next morning, and went by hackney-coach, +in the darkness, to a place in the Oxford road, near Tyburn; where we +left our conveyance waiting, and proceeded afoot to the chosen spot in +the Park. + +No one was there when we arrived, and we paced to and fro together to +keep in exercise, talking in low voices, and beguiling our agitation +by confining our thoughts to a narrow channel. The sod was cool and +soft to our tread, and the smell of the leaves was pleasant to our +nostrils. As the sky whitened above the silent trees, and the gray +light penetrated to the grassy turf at our feet, Phil quoted softly +the line from Grey's Elegy in which the phrase of "incense-breathing +morn" occurs; and from that he went to certain parts of Milton's +"L'Allegro" and then to Shakespeare's songs, "When Daisies Pied" and +"Under the Greenwood Tree." + +"'Faith," said he, breaking off from the poetry, "'tis a marvel how +content I feel! You would not believe it, the serene happiness that +has come over me. 'Tis easy to explain, though: I have adjusted my +affairs, provided for my wife, left nothing in confusion or disorder, +and am as ready for death as for life. I feel at last responsible to +no one; free to accept whatever fate I may incur; clear of burdens. +The great thing, man, is to have one's debts paid, one's obligations +discharged: then death or life matters little, and the mere act of +breathing fresh air is a joy unspeakable." + +We now descried the figures of Falconer, Idsleigh, and a third +gentleman, approaching under the trees. Civil greetings passed as they +came up, and Falconer overwent the demands of mere courtesy so far as +to express himself upon the coolness and sweetness of the morning. But +he was scrutinising Philip curiously the while, as if there were some +reason why he should be less indifferent regarding this antagonist +than he had shown himself regarding Tom Faringfield and me. + +The principals removed their hats, coats, and waistcoats. As they were +not booted, but appeared in stockings and low shoes, they made two +fine and supple figures to look upon. The formalities between Mr. +Idsleigh and me were as brief as possible. Falconer chose his sword +with a pretence of scarce looking at it, Philip gave his the usual +examination, and the two men stood on guard. + +There was a little wary play at first, while each sought an inkling of +the other's method. Then some livelier work, in which they warmed +themselves and got their muscles into complete facility, followed upon +Phil's pretending to lose his guard. All this was but overture, and it +came to a stop for a short pause designed as preliminary to the real +duel. Both were now perspiring, and breathing into their lungs deep +draughts of air. Falconer's expression showed that he had recognised +better fencing in Phil's work than he had thought to find; but Phil's +face conveyed no such surprise, for he had counted upon an adversary +possessed of the first skill. + +'Twas Falconer who began what we all felt was to be the serious part +of the combat. Phil parried the thrust neatly; made a feint, but, +instantly recovering, availed himself of his opponent's counter +movement, and sank his point fair into Falconer's left breast. The +English captain tumbled instantly to the ground. The swiftness of the +thing startled us. Idsleigh and his medical companion stared in +amazement, wondering that the fallen man should lie so still. It took +a second or two for that which their eyes had informed them, to +penetrate to their understanding. But Philip and I knew that the lunge +had pierced the heart, and that the accomplished Lovelace on the +ground would charm no more women. + +'Twas only when we were hastening back to our hackney-coach, that +Philip trembled. Then for a few moments his teeth chattered as if he +were taken with a chill, and his face was deathly pale. + +"'Tis terrible," he said, in an awed tone, "to kill a man this way. +'Tis not like in war. On a morning like this, in the civil manner of +gentlemen, to make of such a marvellous living, thinking, feeling +machine a poor heap of senseless flesh and bone that can only +rot:--and all in the time of a sword-thrust!" + +"Tut!" said I, "the world is the better for the riddance. Think of +Tom, and all else!" + +"I know it," said Phil, conquering his weakness. "And such men know +what they risk when they break into the happiness of others. I could +not have lived in peace while he lived. Well, that is all behind us +now. Yonder is our coach." + +We got in, and were driven to the tavern in Dean Street. We there +dismissed the coach, and Philip started afoot for the inn, in the +Strand, where our post-chaise was to be in readiness. I was to join +him there after completing the letter and leaving it at Madge's +lodgings, Philip using the mean time in attending to the posting of +certain letters of his own. We had no baggage to impede us, as we +intended to purchase new wearables in France: we had, on the previous +day, provided ourselves with money and letters of credit. My affairs +had been so arranged that neither my wife nor my mother could be +pecuniarily embarrassed by my absence. Philip's American passport, +used upon our former travels, was still in force and had been made to +include a travelling companion. So all was smoothed for our flight. + +Taking my letter to the house in which Madge lived, I asked for her +maid, telling the house servant I would wait at the street door: for, +as I did not wish to meet any of the three ladies, I considered it +safer to entrust the letter to Madge's own woman. The girl came down; +but I had no sooner handed her the letter, and told her what to do +with it, than I heard Madge's voice in the hall above. She had come +out to see who wanted her maid, suspecting some trick of Falconer's; +and, leaning over the stair-rail, had recognised my voice. + +"What is it, Bert? Why don't you come up?" + +"I can't--I'm in haste," I blundered. "Good morning!" + +"But wait! What's wrong? A moment, I entreat! Nay, you shall--!" And +at that she came tripping swiftly down the stairs. The maid, +embarrassed, handed her the letter. Without opening it, she advanced +to me, while I was wildly considering the propriety of taking to my +heels; and demanded: + +"What is it you had to write? Sure 'tis your own hand. Why can't you +tell me?" + +"Not so loud," I begged. "My mother and Fanny mustn't know till I am +gone." + +"Gone!" With this she tore open the letter, and seemed to grasp its +general sense in a glance. "A duel! I suspected--from what Philip +said. Oh, my God, was he--?" She scanned the writing wildly, but in +her excitement it conveyed nothing to her mind. + +"Captain Falconer will not annoy you again," I said, "and Philip and I +must go to France for awhile. Good-bye! Let mother and Fanny see the +letter in half an hour." + +"But wait--thank God, he's not hurt!--France, you say? How? Which +road?" + +She was holding my coat lapel, to make me stay and tell her. So I +answered: + +"By post to Hastings; there we shall get the Doughty boys to--" + +At this, there broke in another voice from above stairs--that of +Fanny: + +"Is that Bert, Madge dear?" + +"Tell her 'no,'" I whispered, appalled at thought of a leave-taking, +explanations, weeping, and delay. "And for God's sake, let me--ah, +thank you! Read the letter--you shall hear from us--God bless you +all!" + +The next moment I was speeding from the house, leaving Madge in a +tumult of thoughts at the door. I turned into Gerrard Street without +looking back; and brisk walking soon brought me to the Strand, where +Philip himself was just ready to take the post-chaise. + +"A strange thing delayed me," said he, as we forthwith took our seats +in the vehicle; which we had no sooner done than the postilions set +the four horses going and our journey was begun. + +"What was it?" I asked, willing to reserve the account of my interview +with Madge till later. + +"The most remarkable thing, for me to witness on this particular +morning," he replied; and told me the story as we rattled through +Temple Bar and Fleet Street, on our way to the bridge and the Surrey +side. "After I left you, I don't know what it was that kept me from +coming through St. Martin's Lane to the Strand, and made me continue +East instead. But something did; and finally I turned to come through +Bow Street. When I was nearly in front of the magistrate's house, a +post-chaise stopped before it, and a fellow got out whom I took to be +a Bow Street runner. Several people ran up to see if he had a prisoner +in the chaise, and so the footway was blocked; and I stopped to look +on for a moment with the rest. A man called out to the constable, +'What you got, Bill?' The constable, who had turned around and reached +into the chaise, stopped to look at the speaker, and said, 'Nobody +much--only the Soho Square assault and robbery--I ran him down at +Plymouth, waiting for a vessel--he had a mind to travel for his +health.' The constable grinned, and the other man said, 'Sure that's a +hanging business, and no mistake!'" + +"And so it is," said I, interrupting Philip. "I read of the affair at +the time. A fellow named Howard knocked down his landlady, robbed her +money-box, and got away before she came to." + +"Yes," Phil went on, "I remembered it, too. And I waited for a glimpse +of the robber's face. He stepped out, and the constable, with a +comrade from inside the chaise, led him to where they hold prisoners +for examination. He was all mud-stained, dishevelled, and frowsy: for +two seconds, though he didn't notice me, I had a good view of him. And +who do you think this Howard really was?" + +"Bless me, how should I know? My acquaintance among the criminal +classes isn't what it might be." + +"'Twas Ned Faringfield!" said Philip. "I should have known him +anywhere--heavens, how little a man's looks change, through all +vicissitudes!" + +"Well, upon my soul!" I exclaimed, in a chill. "Who'd have thought it? +Yet hanging is what we always predicted for him, in jest. That it +should come so soon--for they'll make short work of that case, 'tis +certain." + +"Yes, I fear they'll not lose much time over it, at the Old Bailey. We +may expect to read his name among the Newgate hangings in a month or +two. Poor devil!--I'll send him some money through my lawyer, and have +Nobbs see that he gets decent counsel. Money will enable him to live +his last weeks at Newgate in comfort, at least; though 'tis beyond +counsel to save his neck. His people must never know. Nor Fanny." + +"Unless he gives his real name at the trial, or in his 'last dying +speech and confession.'" + +"Why, even then it may not come to their ears. Best bring Fanny and +your mother soon to France. Madge will never tell, if she learns; I'll +warrant her for that. To think of it!--the dear old house in Queen +Street, and the boys and girls we used to play with--Tom's fate--and +now Ned's--Fanny in England--and Madge--! Was ever such diversity of +destinies in so small a family?" + +He fell into his thoughts: of what strange parts we play in the world, +how different from those anybody would predict for us in our +childhood--how different, from those we then predict for ourselves. +And so we were borne across the Thames, looking back to get our last +view of St. Paul's dome for some time to come; through Southwark, and +finally into the country. The postilions kept the horses at a good +gait Southward. We did not urge them to this, for indeed we saw but +little necessity for great haste, as there was likely to be some time +ere Falconer's death became known to the authorities, and some time +longer ere it was traced to us. But as Mr. Idsleigh, before getting +out of the way himself, _might_ take means to lay written information +against us, which would serve at least to put the minions of the law +on the right track, and as we might be subjected to some delay at +Hastings, we saw no reason to repress the postilions' zeal, either. + +In our second stage we were not favoured with so energetic conductors, +and in our third we had unfit horses. So we had occasion to be glad of +our excellent start. Thus, between good horses and bad, live +postilions and lethargic, smooth roads and rough, we fared on the +whole rather well than ill, and felt but the smallest apprehension of +being caught. To speak metaphorically, the coast of France was already +in our sight. + +At the end of the first stage, we had breakfasted upon eggs and beer. +We took an early dinner at Tunbridge Wells, and proceeded through +Sussex. 'Twas well forward in the afternoon, and we were already +preparing our eyes, faces, and nostrils for the refreshing intimation +of the sea, when our ears notified us of a vehicle following in our +wake. Looking back, at a bend of the road, we saw it was a conveyance +similar to our own, and that the postilions were whipping the horses +to their utmost speed. "Whoever rides there," said I, "has paid or +promised well for haste." + +"'Tis strange there should be other folk bound in a hurry for Hastings +this same day," replied Phil. + +We looked at one another, with the same thought. + +"Their post-boys seem to be watching our chaise as much as anything +else," I remarked. "To be sure, they can't know 'tis you and I." + +"No, but if they _were_ in quest of us, they would try to overtake +this chaise or any other on the road. Ho, postilion!--an extra crown +apiece for yourselves if you leave those fellows yonder behind for +good." And Phil added quietly to me: "It won't do to offer 'em too +much at first--'twould make 'em suspicious." + +"But," quoth I, as our men put their horses to the gallop. "How the +devil could any one have got so soon upon our track?" + +"Why, Idsleigh may have turned informer, in his own interest--he was +in a devilish difficult position--and men would be sent with our +descriptions to the post-houses. 'Tis merely possible. Or our +hackney-coachman may have guessed something, and dogged me to the +Strand, and informed. If they found where we started, of course they +could track us from stage to stage. 'Tis best to be safe--though I +scarce think they're in our pursuit." + +"Egad, they're in somebody's!" I cried. "Their postilions are shouting +to ours to stop." + +"Never mind those fellows' holloing," called Philip to our riders. +"'Tis a wager--and I'll double that crown apiece." + +We bowled over the road in a way to make me think of Apollo's chariot +and the horses of Phaeton; but we lengthened not a rod the stretch +betwixt us and our followers, though we nullified their efforts to +diminish it. We could make out, more by sight than by hearing--for we +kept looking back, our heads thrust out at either side--that the +pursuing post-boys continued bawling vehemently at ours. What they +said, was drowned by the clatter of horses and wheels. + +"Well, they have seen we are two men," said Philip, "and still they +keep up the race. They certainly must want us. Were they merely in a +hurry to reach Hastings, they could do that the sooner by sparing +their horses--this is a killing pace." + +"Then we're in a serious plight," said I. "Though we may beat 'em to +Hastings, they will catch us there." + +"Unless we can gain a quarter of an hour's start, and, by one chance +in twenty, find the Doughty boys ashore, and their boat in harbour." + +"Ay, there's one chance in twenty, maybe," I growled, looking gloomily +back, and wishing I might see the pursuing chaise upset, or one of its +horses stumble. + +There is an old proverb about evil wishes rebounding to strike the +sender; and a recollection of this was my paramount thought a moment +later: for at a sharp turn our chaise suddenly seemed to leap into the +air and alight on one wheel, and then turned over sidewise with what +appeared to be a solemn deliberation, piling me upon Philip in a heap. +We felt the conveyance dragged some yards along the road, and then it +came to a stop. A moment later we heard the postilions cursing the +horses, and then we clambered out of the upper side of the chaise, and +leaped into the road. We had been knocked, shaken, and bruised, but +were not seriously hurt. + +"Here's the devil to pay," cried the older postilion excitedly, +turning his attention from the trembling horses to the wrecked +vehicle. + +"We will pay--but you will let us ride your horses the rest of the +way?" asked Phil, quietly, rather as a matter of form than with any +hope of success. + +"No, sir!" roared the man. "Bean't there damage enough? Just look--" + +"Tut, man," said Phil, examining the chaise, "a guinea will mend +all--and there it is, and your extra crowns, too, though you failed. +Well," he added, turning to me, "shall we take to the fields? They'll +have to hunt us afoot then, and we may beat 'em at that." + +But I found I was too lame, from the knocking about I had got in the +upset vehicle, for any game of hare and hounds. "Go you," said I. "I +was only the second--there's less danger for me." + +"I'll not go, then," said he. "What a pity I drew you into this, Bert! +I ought to have considered Fanny and your mother. They'll never +forgive me--they never ought to.--Well, now we shall know the worst!" + +The second vehicle came to a triumphant stop near us, the postilions +grinning with satisfaction. Phil and I stood passive in the road: I +remember wondering whether the officers of the law would put handcuffs +upon us. A head was thrust out of the window--a voice called to us. + +"Madge!" we cried together, and hastened to her. + +"I was afraid you might sail before I got to Hastings," cried she, +with relief and joy depicted on her face. + +"Who is with you?" asked Phil. + +"No one," she answered. "I left Bert's letter with my maid, to give to +Fanny. I left the girl too, to stay with her if she will take her. I +didn't wish to encumber--Your chaise is broken down: get into this +one. Oh, Phil!--I couldn't bear to have you go away--and leave +me--after I had seen you again. 'Twas something to know you were in +London, at least--near me. But if you go to France--you must let me +go, too--you must, dear--as your friend, your comrade and helper, if +nothing more--your old friend, that knew you so long ago--" + +She lost voice here, and began to cry, still looking at him through +the mist of tears. His own eyes glistened softly as he returned her +gaze; and, after a moment, he went close to the window through which +her head was thrust, raised his hand so as to stroke her hair, and +kissed her on the lips. + +"Why, you shall come as my wife, of course," said he, gently. "If I +had been sure you wished it, you might have travelled with us from +London, and been spared this chase.--But think what you are giving up, +dear--'tis not too late--the theatre, the praise and admiration, +London--" + +"Oh, hang 'em all!" cried she, looking joyous through her tears. "'Tis +you I want!" + +And she caught his face between her hands, and kissed it a dozen +times, to the open-mouthed wonder of the staring postilions. + + * * * * * + +She took us in her post-chaise to Hastings, where the three of us +embarked as we had planned to do, having first arranged that one of +the Doughty boys should go to Hampstead and act as a sort of man +servant or protector to my mother and Fanny during their loneliness. +They joined us later in Paris, and I finally accompanied them home +when Captain Falconer's fatal duel was a forgotten matter. Philip and +Madge then visited Italy and Germany; and subsequently returned to New +York, having courageously chosen to outface what old scandal remained +from the time of her flight. And so, despite Phil's prediction, 'tis +finally his children, not mine, that gladden the age of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, and have brought back the old-time cheer to the house; +for Fanny and I have remained in England, and here our young ones are +being reared. Each under the government for which he fought--thus +Philip and I abide. 'Tis no news, that Phil has become one of the +leading architects in his country. My own life has been pleasantly +monotonous, save for the duel I fought against a detractor of General +Washington, which, as I merely wounded my adversary, did not +necessitate another exile from the kingdom. + +It is still an unsolved mystery in London, as to what became of Miss +Warren, the actress of Drury Lane: she was for long reported to have +been carried away by a strange gentleman who killed Captain Falconer +in a duel over her. 'Tis not known in New York that Mrs. Winwood was +ever on the stage. And as I must not yet make it known, nor disclose +many things which have perforce entered into this history, I perceive +that my labour has been, after all, to no purpose. I dare not give the +narrative to the world, now it is done; but I cannot persuade myself +to give it to the fire, either. Let it lie hid, then, till all of us +concerned in it are passed away; and perchance it may serve to +instruct some future reader how much a transient vanity and wilfulness +may wreck, and how much a steadfast love and courage may retrieve. + + +THE END. + + + + +NOTES. + + +NOTE 1 (Page 13). + +Before the Revolution, there were Queen Street and Pearl Street, +together forming a line continuous though not exactly straight. After +the Revolution, the whole line was named Pearl Street. King Street and +Duke Street were others that rightly underwent re-christening. But, +with equal propriety, many old names smacking of the English régime +were retained, and serve as memorials of the English part of the +city's colonial history: such names, for instance, as William Street, +Nassau Street, Hanover Square, Kingsbridge; not to mention New York +itself. The old Dutch rule, too, remains marked in the city's +nomenclature--for ever, let us hope. I say, "let us hope;" for there +have been attempts to have the authorities change the name of the +Bowery itself, that renowned thoroughfare which began, in the very +morn of the city's history, as a lane leading to Peter Stuyvesant's +_bauer_. I scarce think this desecration shall ever come to pass: yet +in such matters one may not be sure of a nation which has permitted +the spoiling (by the mutilation of headlands and cliffs, for private +gain) of a river the most storied in our own land, and the most +beautiful in the world. + + +NOTE 2 (Page 34). + +In 1595 was published in London: "Vincentio Saviolo his Practise. In +two Bookes. The first intreating the use of the Rapier and Dagger. The +second of Honour and Honourable Quarrels." (Etc.) The celebrated +swordsman sets forth only the Italian system, and has naught to say +upon the French. The book that Winwood studied may have been some +reprint (now unknown), with notes or additions by a later hand. In any +case, he may have acquired through it sufficient rudimentary +acquaintance with some sort of practice to enable him to excite the +French fencing-master's interest. + + +NOTE 3 (Page 182). + +"Lady Washington's Light Horse" was a name sometimes unofficially +applied to Lieut.-Col. Baylor's Dragoons. They were sleeping in a barn +and outbuildings, at Old Tappan, one night in the Fall of 1778, when +they were surprised by General Grey, whose men, attacking with +bayonets, killed 11, mangled 25, and took about 40 prisoners. Both +Col. Baylor and Major Clough were wounded, the latter fatally. It is +of course this affair, to which Lieut. Russell's narrative alludes. + + +NOTE 4 (Page 191). + +The Morris house, now known as the Jumel mansion, was half a +generation old at the beginning of the Revolution. Thither, as the +bride of Captain Morris, a brother-officer of Washington's in the old +French war, went Mary Philipse; whom young Washington was said to have +wooed while he tarried in and about New York upon his memorable +journey to Boston to solicit in vain, of Governor Shirley, a king's +commission. The Revolution found the Morrises on the side opposed to +Washington's; for a short time during the operations above New York in +1776 he occupied this house of theirs as headquarters. They lost it +through their allegiance to the royal cause, all their American real +estate being confiscated by the New York assembly. The mansion became +in time the residence of that remarkable woman who, from a barefoot +girl in Providence, R.I., had grown up to be the wife of a Frenchman +named Jumel; and to be the object of much admiration, and the subject +of some scandal. In her widowhood she received under this roof Aaron +Burr, after his duel with Hamilton (whose neighbouring country-house +still exists, in Convent Avenue), and under this roof she and +Burr--both in their old age--were united in marriage. I imagine that +some of the ghosts that haunt this mansion, if they might be got in a +corner, would yield their interviewers a quaint reminiscence or two. +The grounds appertaining to the house have been sadly diminished by +the opening of new streets; yet it is still a fine, striking landmark, +perched to be seen afar, as from the railroad trains that follow the +East bank of the Harlem, or, better, from West 155th Street at and +about its junction with St. Nicholas Place and the Speedway. At the +time when I left New York for a temporary residence in the Old World, +there was talk of moving the house to a less commanding, but still +eminent, height that crowns the bluff rising from the Speedway: the +owner was compelled, it was said, to avail himself of the increased +value of the land whereon it stood. 'Tis some pity if this has been, +or has to be, done; but nothing to the pity if the mansion had to be +pulled down. Apart from all associations and historical interest, this +imposing specimen of our Colonial domestic architecture, so simple and +reposeful an edifice amidst a world of flat buildings, and of gew-gaw +houses built for sale on the instalment plan to the ubiquitous Mr. and +Mrs. Veneering, is a precious relief, nay an untiring delight, to the +eye. + + +NOTE 5 (Page 202). + +During this Winter (1779-80) the Continental army was in two main +divisions. The one with which Washington made his headquarters was +hutted on the heights about Morristown, N.J. The other, under General +Heath, was stationed in the highlands of the Hudson. Intermediate +territory, of course, was more or less thoroughly guarded by detached +posts, militia, and various forces regular and irregular. The most of +the cavalry was quartered in Connecticut; but Winwood's troop, as our +narrative shows, was established near Washington's headquarters. This +was a memorably cold Winter, and as severe upon the patriots as the +more famous Winter (1777-78) at Valley Forge. About the latter part of +January the Hudson was frozen over, almost to its mouth. + + +NOTE 6 (Page 269). + +Long before I fell upon Lieut. Russell's narrative, a detailed account +of a British attempt to capture Washington, by a bold night dash upon +his quarters at Morristown, had caught my eyes from the pages of the +old "New Jersey Historical Collections." Washington was not the only +object of such designs during the War of Independence. One was planned +for the seizure of Governor Livingstone at his home in Elizabeth, +N.J.; but, much to Sir Henry Clinton's disappointment, that +influential and witty champion of independence was not at home when +the surprise party called. + + +NOTE 7 (Page 277). + +Lieut-Gen. Knyphausen was now (January, 1780) temporarily in chief +command at New York, as Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis had +sailed South (December 26, 1779) to attack Charleston and reduce South +Carolina. + + +NOTE 8 (Page 311). + +At that time, the Bristol and Bath stage-coaches took two days for the +trip to London. Madge doubtless would have slept a night or two at +Bristol after her landing; and probably at the Pelican Inn at +Speenhamland (opposite Newbury), the usual midway sleeping-place, at +the end of the first day's ride. But bad weather may have hindered the +journey, and required the passengers to pass more than one night as +inn-guests upon the road. + + +NOTE 9 (Page 325). + +Mrs. Sheridan's surpassing beauty, talent, and amiability are +well-known to all readers; as is the fact that her brilliant husband, +despite their occasional quarrels, was very much in love with her from +first to last. + + +NOTE 10 (Page 359). + +Sir Ralph Winwood, born at Aynho, in Northamptonshire, in 1564, was +frequently sent as envoy to Holland in the reign of James I., by whom +he was knighted in 1603. He was Secretary of State from a date in 1614 +till his death in 1617. His collected papers and letters are entitled, +"Memorials of Affairs of State in the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and +King James I.," etc. His portrait painted by Miereveldt, is in the +National Portrait Gallery in London. + + + + +L.C. Page and Company's + +Announcement of List of New Fiction. + + +Philip Winwood. (50th thousand.) A SKETCH OF THE DOMESTIC HISTORY OF +AN AMERICAN CAPTAIN IN THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE, EMBRACING EVENTS THAT +OCCURRED BETWEEN AND DURING THE YEARS 1763 AND 1785 IN NEW YORK AND +LONDON. WRITTEN BY HIS ENEMY IN WAR, HERBERT RUSSELL, LIEUTENANT IN +THE LOYALIST FORCES. Presented anew by ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author +of "A Gentleman Player," "An Enemy to the King," etc. + + With six full-page illustrations by E.W.D. Hamilton. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages. $1.50 + +"One of the most stirring and remarkable romances that has been +published in a long while, and its episodes, incidents, and actions +are as interesting and agreeable as they are vivid and dramatic. . . . +The print, illustrations, binding, etc., are worthy of the tale, and +the author and his publishers are to be congratulated on a literary +work of fiction which is as wholesome as it is winsome, as fresh and +artistic as it is interesting and entertaining from first to last +paragraph."--_Boston Times_. + + +Breaking the Shackles. By FRANK BARRETT. + + Author of "A Set of Rogues." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +"The story opens well, and maintains its excellence throughout. . . . +The author's triumph is the greater in the unquestionable interest and +novelty which he achieves. The pictures of prison life are most vivid, +and the story of the escape most thrilling."--_The Freeman's Journal, +London_. + + +The Progress of Pauline Kessler. By FREDERIC CARREL. + + Author of "Adventures of John Johns." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A novel that will be widely read and much discussed. A powerful sketch +of an adventuress who has much of the Becky Sharpe in her. The story +is crisply written and told with directness and insight into the ways +of social and political life. The characters are strong types of the +class to which they belong. + + +Ada Vernham, Actress. By RICHARD MARSH. + + Author of "Frivolities," "Tom Ossington's Ghost," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. .$1.50 + +This is a new book by the author of "Frivolities," which was extremely +well received last season. It deals with the inside life of the London +stage, and is of absorbing interest. + + +The Wallet of Kai Lung. By ERNEST BRAMAH. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +This is the first book of a new writer, and is exceedingly well done. +It deals with the fortunes of a Chinese professional storyteller, who +meets with many surprising adventures. The style suggests somewhat the +rich Oriental coloring of the Arabian Nights. + + +Edward Barry: SOUTH SEA PEARLER. By LOUIS BECKE. + + Author of "By Reef and Palm," "Ridan, the Devil," etc. + + With four full-page illustrations by H.C. Edwards. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. $1.50 + +An exceedingly interesting story of sea life and adventure, the scene +of which is laid in the Lagoon Islands of the Pacific. + +This is the first complete novel from the pen of Mr. Becke, and +readers of his collections of short stories will quickly recognize +that the author can write a novel that will grip the reader. Strong, +and even tragic, as is his novel in the main, "Edward Barry" has a +happy ending, and woman's love and devotion are strongly portrayed. + + +Unto the Heights of Simplicity. By JOHANNES REIMERS. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +We take pleasure in introducing to the reading public a writer of +unique charm and individuality. His style is notable for its quaint +poetic idiom and subtle imaginative flavor. In the present story, +he treats with strength and reticence of the relation of the sexes and +the problem of marriage. Certain social abuses and false standards of +morality are attacked with great vigor, yet the plot is so interesting +for its own sake that the book gives no suspicion of being a problem +novel. The descriptions of natural scenery are idyllic in their charm, +and form a fitting background for the love story. + + +The Black Terror. A ROMANCE OF RUSSIA. By JOHN K. LEYS. + + With frontispiece by Victor A. Searles. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A stirring tale of the present day, presenting in a new light the +aims and objects of the Nihilists. The story is so vivid and true to +life that it might easily be considered a history of political intrigue +in Russia, disguised as a novel, while its startling incidents and +strange denouement would only confirm the old adage that "truth +is stranger than fiction," and that great historical events may be +traced to apparently insignificant causes. The hero of the story +is a young Englishman, whose startling resemblance to the Czar is +taken advantage of by the Nihilists for the furtherance of their +plans. + + +The Baron's Sons. By MAURUS JOKAI. + + Author of "Black Diamonds," "The Green Book," "Pretty Michal," etc. + Translated by Percy F. Bicknell. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with photogravure portrait of the + author, 350 pages. $1.50 + +An exceedingly interesting romance of the revolution of 1848, the +scene of which is laid at the courts of St. Petersburg, Moscow, and +Vienna, and in the armies of the Austrians and Hungarians. It follows +the fortunes of three young Hungarian noblemen, whose careers are +involved in the historical incidents of the time. The story is told +with all of Jokai's dash and vigor, and is exceedingly interesting. +This romance has been translated for us directly from the Hungarian, +and never has been issued hitherto in English. + + +Slaves of Chance. By FERRIER LANGWORTHY. + + With five portraits of the heroines, from original drawings by + Hiel. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +As a study of some of the realities of London life, this novel is one +of notable merit. The slaves of chance, and, it might be added, of +temptation, are five pretty girls, the daughters of a pretty widow, +whose means are scarcely sufficient, even living as they do, in a +quiet way and in a quiet London street, to make both ends meet. +Dealing, as he does, with many sides of London life, the writer +sketches varied types of character, and his creations are cleverly +defined. He tells an interesting tale with delicacy and in a fresh, +attractive style. + + +Her Boston Experiences. By MARGARET ALLSTON (nom de plume). + + With eighteen full-page illustrations from drawings by Frank O. + Small, and from photographs taken especially for the book. + + Small 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 225 pages. $1.25 + +A most interesting and vivacious tale, dealing with society life at +the Hub, with perhaps a tinge of the flavor of Vagabondia. The story +has appeared serially in _The Ladies' Home Journal_, where it was +received with marked success. We are not as yet at liberty to give the +true name of the author, who hides her identity under the pen name, +Margaret Allston, but she is well known in literature. + + +Memory Street. By MARTHA BAKER DUNN. + + Author of "The Sleeping Beauty," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +An exceedingly beautiful story, delineating New England life and +character. The style and interest will compare favorably with the work +of such writers as Mary E. Wilkins, Kate Douglas Wiggin, and Sarah +Orne Jewett. The author has been a constant contributor to the leading +magazines, and the interest of her previous work will assure welcome +for her first novel. + + +Winifred. A STORY OF THE CHALK CLIFFS. By S. BARING GOULD. + + Author of "Mehala," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A striking novel of English life in the eighteenth century by this +well known writer. The scene is laid partly in rural Devonshire, and +partly in aristocratic London circles. + + +At the Court of the King: BEING ROMANCES OF FRANCE. By G. HEMBERT +WESTLEY, editor of "For Love's Sweet Sake." + + With a photogravure frontispiece from an original drawing. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +Despite the prophecies of some literary experts, the historical +romance is still on the high tide of popular favor, as exemplified by +many recent successes. We feel justified, consequently, in issuing +these stirring romances of intrigue and adventure, love and war, at +the Courts of the French Kings. + + +God's Rebel. By HULBERT FULLER. + + Author of "Vivian of Virginia." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 375 pages. $1.25 + +A powerful story of sociological questions. The scene is laid in +Chicago, the hero being a professor in "Rockland University," whose +protest against the unequal distribution of wealth and the wretched +condition of workmen gains for him the enmity of the "Savior Oil +Company," through whose influence he loses his position. His after +career as a leader of laborers who are fighting to obtain their rights +is described with great earnestness. The character drawing is vigorous +and varied, and the romantic plot holds the interest throughout. _The +Albany Journal_ is right in pronouncing this novel "an unusually +strong story." It can hardly fail to command an immense reading +public. + + +A Georgian Actress. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE. + + Author of "Mademoiselle de Berny," "Ye Lyttle Salem Maide," etc. + + With four full-page illustrations from drawings by E.W.D. Hamilton. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. $1.50 + +An interesting romance of the days of George III., dealing with the +life and adventures of a fair and talented young play-actress, the +scene of which is laid in England and America. The success of Miss +Mackie's previous books will justify our prediction that a new volume +will receive an instant welcome. + + +God--The King--My Brother. A ROMANCE. By MARY F. NIXON. + + Author of "With a Pessimist in Spain," "A Harp of Many Chords," etc. + + With a frontispiece by H.C. Edwards. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +An historical tale, dealing with the romantic period of Edward the +Black Prince. The scene is laid for the most part in the sunny land of +Spain, during the reign of Pedro the Cruel--the ally in war of the +Black Prince. The well-told story records the adventures of two young +English knight-errants, twin brothers, whose family motto gives the +title to the book. The Spanish maid, the heroine of the romance, is a +delightful characterization, and the love story, with its surprising +yet logical dénouement, is enthralling. + + +Punchinello. By FLORENCE STUART. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages. $1.50 + +A love story of intense power and pathos. The hero is a hunchback +(Punchinello), who wins the love of a beautiful young girl. Her sudden +death, due indirectly to his jealousy, and the discovery that she had +never faltered in her love for him, combine to unbalance his mind. The +poetic style relieves the sadness of the story, and the reader is +impressed with the power and brilliancy of its conception, as well as +with the beauty and grace of the execution. + + +The Golden Fleece. Translated from the French of Amédée Achard, author +of "The Huguenot's Love," etc. + + Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 450 pages. $1.50 + +Amédée Achard was a contemporary writer of Dumas, and his romances +are very similar to those of that great writer. "The Golden Fleece" +compares favorably with "The Three Musketeers" and the other +D'Artagnan romances. The story relates the adventures of a young +Gascon gentleman, an officer in the army sent by Louis XIV. to assist +the Austrians in repelling the Turkish Invasion under the celebrated +Achmet Kiuperli. + + +The Good Ship _York_. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. + + Author of "The Wreck of the _Grosvenor_," "A Sailor's Sweetheart," + etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A romantic and exciting sea tale, equal to the best work of this +famous writer, relating the momentous voyage of the clipper ship +_York_, and the adventures that befell Julia Armstrong, a +passenger, and George Hardy, the chief mate. + +"Mr. Russell has no rival in the line of marine fiction."--_Mail and +Express_. + + +Tom Ossington's Ghost. By RICHARD MARSH. + + Author of "Frivolities," "Ada Vernham, Actress," etc. Illustrated + by Harold Pifford. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages. $1.50 + +"I read 'Tom Ossington's Ghost' the other night, and was afraid to go +up-stairs in the dark after it."--_Truth_. + +"An entrancing book, but people with weak nerves had better not read +it at night."--_To-day_. + +"Mr. Marsh has been inspired by an entirely original idea, and has +worked it out with great ingenuity. We like the weird but _not_ +repulsive story better than anything he has ever done."--_World_. + + +The Glory and Sorrow of Norwich. By M.M. BLAKE. + + Author of "The Blues and the Brigands," etc., etc., with twelve + full-page illustrations. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 315 pages. $1.50 + +The hero of this romance, Sir John de Reppes, is an actual personage, +and throughout the characters and incidents are instinct with the +spirit of the age, as related in the chronicles of Froissart. Its main +claim for attention, however, is in the graphic representation of the +age of chivalry which it gives, forming a series of brilliant and +fascinating pictures of mediæval England, its habits of thought and +manner of life, which live in the mind for many a day after perusal, +and assist to a clearer conception of what is one of the most charming +and picturesque epochs of history. + + +The Mistress of Maidenwood. By HULBERT FULLER. + + Author of "Vivian of Virginia," "God's Rebel," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A stirring historical romance of the American Revolution, the scene of +which for the most part being laid in and about the debatable ground +in the vicinity of New York City. + + +Dauntless. A TALE OF A LOST CAUSE. By CAPTAIN EWAN MARTIN. + + Author of "The Knight of King's Guard." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages, illustrated. $1.50 + +A stirring romance of the days of Charles I. and Cromwell in England +and Ireland. In its general character the book invites comparison with +Scott's "Waverley." It well sustains the reputation gained by Captain +Martin from "The Knight of King's Guard." + + +The Flame Of Life. (IL FUOCO.) Translated from the Italian of Gabriel +D'Annunzio, author of "Triumph of Death," etc., by KASSANDRA VIVARIA, +author of "Via Lucis." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +This is the first volume in the Third Trilogy, "The Romances of the +Pomegranate," of the three announced by the great Italian writer. We +were fortunate in securing the book, and also in securing the services +as translator of the talented author of "Via Lucis," herself an +Italian by birth. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP WINWOOD*** + + +******* This file should be named 15506-8.txt or 15506-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/0/15506 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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W. D. Hamilton</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Philip Winwood</p> +<p> A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces.</p> +<p>Author: Robert Neilson Stephens</p> +<p>Release Date: March 30, 2005 [eBook #15506]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP WINWOOD***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst<br> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Front cover" width="355" height="525"> +</p> + +<h1> +PHILIP WINWOOD +</h1> + + +<p class="ctr"> + "The bravest are the tenderest." +</p> + +<p class="cite"> +Bayard Taylor. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3> +Works of ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS +</h3> + +<h4> +An Enemy to the King<br> +(Twenty-sixth Thousand) +</h4> + +<h4> +The Continental Dragoon<br> +(Seventeenth Thousand) +</h4> + +<h4> +The Road to Paris<br> +(Sixteenth Thousand) +</h4> + +<h4> +A Gentleman Player<br> +(Thirty-fifth Thousand) +</h4> + +<h4> +Philip Winwood<br> +(Fiftieth Thousand) +</h4> +<p> </p> + +<h5> +L.C. PAGE AND COMPANY, Publishers (Incorporated)<br> +212 Summer St., Boston, Mass. +</h5> + +<a name="01"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/01.jpg" alt="CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD" width="363" height="391"></p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD</small> +</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>PHILIP WINWOOD</h1> + +<h4> +A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of +Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the +Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in +War, <i>Herbert Russell</i>, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces. +</h4> + +<p class="ctr"> +Presented Anew by +</p> + +<h2>Robert Neilson Stephens</h2> + +<p class="ctr"> +Author of "A Gentleman Player," "An Enemy to the King," "The +Continental Dragoon," "The Road to Paris," etc. +</p> + + +<h4> +Illustrated by +</h4> + +<h3> +E. W. D. Hamilton +</h3> + +<h4> +<i>Boston</i> : L.C. PAGE & COMPANY (Incorporated) <i>Mdcccc</i> +</h4> + +<h4> +<i>1900</i> +</h4> + +<p> </p> + +<hr class="full"> +<h3> +CONTENTS. +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +CHAPTER +</p> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#I">PHILIP'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK</a></li> +<li><a href="#II">THE FARINGFIELDS</a></li> +<li><a href="#III">WHEREIN 'TIS SHOWN THAT BOYS ARE BUT BOYS</a></li> +<li><a href="#IV">HOW PHILIP AND I BEHAVED AS RIVALS IN LOVE</a></li> +<li><a href="#V">WE HEAR STARTLING NEWS, WHICH BRINGS ABOUT A + FAMILY "SCENE"</a></li> +<li><a href="#VI">NED COMES BACK, WITH AN INTERESTING TALE OF A + FORTUNATE IRISHMAN</a></li> +<li><a href="#VII">ENEMIES IN WAR</a></li> +<li><a href="#VIII">I MEET AN OLD FRIEND IN THE DARK</a></li> +<li><a href="#IX">PHILIP'S ADVENTURES—CAPTAIN FALCONER COMES + TO TOWN</a></li> +<li><a href="#X">A FINE PROJECT</a></li> +<li><a href="#XI">WINWOOD COMES TO SEE HIS WIFE</a></li> +<li><a href="#XII">THEIR INTERVIEW</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIII">WHEREIN CAPTAIN WINWOOD DECLINES A PROMOTION</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIV">THE BAD SHILLING TURNS UP ONCE MORE IN + QUEEN STREET</a></li> +<li><a href="#XV">IN WHICH THERE IS A FLIGHT BY SEA, AND A DUEL + BY MOONLIGHT</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVI">FOLLOWS THE FORTUNES OF MADGE AND NED</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVII">I HEAR AGAIN FROM WINWOOD</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVIII">PHILIP COMES AT LAST TO LONDON</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIX">WE MEET A PLAY-ACTRESS THERE</a></li> +<li><a href="#XX">WE INTRUDE UPON A GENTLEMAN AT A COFFEE-HOUSE</a></li> +<li><a href="#XXI">THE LAST, AND MOST EVENTFUL, OF THE HISTORY</a></li> +</ul> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. +</h3> + + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#01"> +CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD</a> +</p> + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#02"> +"OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE +SO IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED"</a> +</p> + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#03"> +"SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY"</a> +</p> + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#04"> +"'HE IS A—AN ACQUAINTANCE'"</a> +</p> + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#05"> +"HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL BLOW"</a> +</p> + +<p class="LOI"><a href="#06"> +"IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES"</a> +</p> + +<hr class="med"> + + +<h3> +PHILIP WINWOOD. +</h3> + +<p> </p> +<a name="I"></a> +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER I.</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Philip's Arrival in New York.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +'Tis not the practice of writers to choose for biography men who have +made no more noise in the world than Captain Winwood has; nor the act +of gentlemen, in ordinary cases, to publish such private matters as +this recital will present. But I consider, on the one hand, that +Winwood's history contains as much of interest, and as good an example +of manly virtues, as will be found in the life of many a hero more +renowned; and, on the other, that his story has been so partially +known, and so distorted, it becomes indeed the duty of a gentleman, +when that gentleman was his nearest friend, to put forth that story +truly, and so give the lie for ever to the detractors of a brave and +kindly man. +</p> + +<p> +There was a saying in the American army, proceeding first from Major +Harry Lee, of their famous Light Horse, that Captain Winwood was in +America, in the smaller way his modesty permitted, what the Chevalier +Bayard was in France, and Sir Philip Sidney in England. This has been +received more than once (such is the malice of conscious inferiority) +with derisive smiles or supercilious sneers; and not only by certain +of his own countrymen, but even in my presence, when my friendship for +Winwood, though I had been his rival in love and his enemy in war, was +not less known than was my quickness to take offence and avenge it. I +dealt with one such case, at the hour of dawn, in a glade near the +Bowery lane, a little way out of New York. And I might have continued +to vindicate my friend's character so: either with pistols, as at +Weehawken across the Hudson, soon after the war, I vindicated the +motives of us Englishmen of American birth who stood for the king in +the war of Independence; or with rapiers, as I defended the name of +our admired enemy, Washington, against a certain defamer, one morning +in Hyde Park, after I had come to London. But it has occurred to me +that I can better serve Winwood's reputation by the spilling of ink +with a quill than of blood with a sword or pistol. This consideration, +which is far from a desire to compete with the young gentlemen who +strive for farthings and fame, in Grub Street, is my apology for +profaning with my unskilled hand the implement ennobled by the use of +a Johnson and a Goldsmith, a Fielding and an Addison. +</p> + +<p> +My acquaintance with the Captain's life, from the vantage of an +eye-witness and comrade, goes back to the time when all of us +concerned were children; to the very day, in truth, when Philip, a +pale and slender lad of eleven years, first set foot in New York, and +first set eye on Margaret Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +As I think of it, it seems but yesterday, and myself a boy again: but +it was, in fact, in the year 1763; and late in the afternoon of a +sunny Summer day. I remember well how thick and heavy the green leaves +hung upon the trees that thrust their branches out over the garden +walls and fences of our quiet street. +</p> + +<p> +Tired from a day's play, or perchance lazy from the heat, I sprawled +upon the front step of our house, which was next the residence of the +Faringfields, in what was then called Queen Street. I believe the name +of that, as of many another in New York, has been changed since the +war, having savoured too much of royalty for republican taste.<a href="#fn1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> The +Faringfield house, like the family, was one of the finest in New York; +and there were in that young city greater mansions than one would have +thought to find in a little colonial seaport—a rural-looking +provincial place, truly, which has been likened to a Dutch town almost +wholly transformed into the semblance of some secondary English town, +or into a tiny, far-off imitation of London. It lacked, of course, the +grand, gray churches, the palaces and historic places, that tell of +what a past has been London's; but it lacked, too, the begriming smoke +and fog that are too much of London's present. Indeed, never had any +town a clearer sky, or brighter sunshine, than are New York's. +</p> + +<p> +From the Summer power of this sunshine, our part of Queen Street was +sheltered by the trees of gardens and open spaces; maple, oak, +chestnut, linden, locust, willow, what not? There was a garden, +wherein the breeze sighed all day, between our house and the +Faringfield mansion, to which it pertained. That vast house, of red +and yellow brick, was two stories and a garret high, and had a +doubly-sloping roof pierced with dormer windows. The mansion's lower +windows and wide front door were framed with carved wood-work, painted +white. Its garden gate, like its front door, opened directly to the +street; and in the garden gateway, as I lounged on our front step that +Summer evening, Madge Faringfield stood, running her fingers through +the thick white and brown hair of her huge dog at her side. +</p> + +<p> +The dog's head was almost on a level with hers, for she was then but +eight years old, a very bright and pretty child. She turned her quick +glance down the street as she stood; and saw me lying so lazy; and at +once her gray eyes took on a teasing and deriding light, and I felt I +was in for some ironical, quizzing speech or other. But just then her +look fell upon something farther down the way, toward Hanover Square, +and lingered in a half-amused kind of curiosity. I directed my own +gaze to see what possessed hers, and this is what we both beheld +together, little guessing what the years to come should bring to make +that moment memorable in our minds. +</p> + +<p> +A thin but well-formed boy of eleven; with a pleasant, kindly face, +somewhat too white, in which there was a look—as there was evidence +in his walk also—of his being tired from prolonged exertion or +endurance. He was decently, though not expensively, clad in black +cloth, his three-cornered felt hat, wide-skirted coat, and ill-fitting +knee-breeches, being all of the same solemn hue. I was to perceive +later that his clothes were old and carefully mended. His gray silk +stockings ill accorded with his poor shoes, of which the buckles were +of steel. He carried in one hand a large, ancient travelling-bag, so +heavy that it strained his muscles and dragged him down, thus partly +explaining the fatigued look in his face; and in his other hand a +basket, from the open top of which there appeared, thrust out, the +head of a live gray kitten. +</p> + +<p> +This pretty animal's look of strangeness to its surroundings, as it +gazed about with curiosity, would alone have proclaimed that it was +arrived from travel; had not the baggage and appearance of its bearer +told the same story. The boy, also, kept an alert eye forward as he +advanced up the street, but it was soon evident that he gazed in +search of some particular object. This object, as the lad finally +satisfied himself by scanning it and its neighbours twice over, proved +to be the house immediately opposite ours. It was one of a row of +small, old brick residences, with Dutch gable ends toward the street. +Having made sure of its identity, and having reddened a little at the +gaze of Madge and me, the young stranger set down his bag with +perceptible signs of physical relief, and, keeping in his grasp the +basket with the cat, knocked with a seemingly forced boldness—as if +he were conscious of timidity to be overcome—upon the door. +</p> + +<p> +At that, Madge Faringfield could not help laughing aloud. +</p> + +<p> +It was a light, rippling, little laugh, entirely good-natured, lasting +but a moment. But it sufficed to make the boy turn and look at her and +blush again, as if he were hurt but bore no resentment. +</p> + +<p> +Then I, who knew what it was to be wounded by a girl's laugh, +especially Madge's, thought it time to explain, and called out to the +lad: +</p> + +<p> +"There's nobody at home there." +</p> + +<p> +The boy gazed at me at a loss; then, plainly reluctant to believe me, +he once more inspected the blank, closed front of the house, for +denial or confirmation of my word. When he next looked back at me, the +expression of inquiring helplessness and vague alarm on his face, as +if the earth were giving way beneath his feet, was half comical, half +pitiful to see. +</p> + +<p> +"It is Mr. Aitken's house, is it not?" he asked, in a tone low and +civil, though it seemed to betray a rapid beating of the heart after a +sudden sinking thereof. +</p> + +<p> +"It was," I replied, "but he has gone back to England, and that house +is empty." +</p> + +<p> +The lad's dismay now became complete, yet it appeared in no other way +than in the forlorn expression of his sharp, pale countenance, and in +the unconscious appeal with which his blue eyes surveyed Madge and me +in turn. But in a few moments he collected himself, as if for the +necessary dealing with some unexpected castastrophe, and asked me, a +little huskily still: +</p> + +<p> +"When will he come home?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never, to this house, I think. Another customs officer has come over +in his place, but this one lodges at the King's Arms, because he's a +bachelor." +</p> + +<p> +The lad cast a final hopeless glance at the house, and then +mechanically took a folded letter from an inner pocket, and dismally +regarded the name on the back. +</p> + +<p> +"I had a letter for him," he said, presently, looking again across the +street at me and Madge, for the curious Miss Faringfield had walked +down from her gateway to my side, that she might view the stranger +better. And now she spoke, in her fearless, good-humoured, somewhat +forward way: +</p> + +<p> +"If you will give the letter to me, my father will send it to Mr. +Aitken in London." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, but that would be of no use," said the lad, with a +disconsolate smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" cried Madge promptly, and started forthwith skipping across +the dusty street. I followed, and in a moment we two were quite close +to the newcomer. +</p> + +<p> +"You're tired," said Madge, not waiting for his answer. "Why don't you +sit down?" And she pointed to the steps of the vacant house. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said the lad, but with a bow, and a gesture that meant he +would not sit while a lady stood, albeit the lady's age was but eight +years. +</p> + +<p> +Madge, pleased at this, smiled, and perched herself on the upper step. +Waiting to be assured that I preferred standing, the newcomer then +seated himself on his own travelling-bag, an involuntary sigh of +comfort showing how welcome was this rest. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you come to visit in New York?" at once began the inquisitive +Madge. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I—I came to see Mr. Aitken," was the hesitating and dubious +answer. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you'll have to go back home without seeing him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't very well see how I can go back," said the boy slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, then you will visit some one else, or stay at the tavern?" Madge +went on. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know any one else here," was the reply, "and I can't stay at +the tavern." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, then, what will you do?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know—yet," the lad answered, looking the picture of +loneliness. +</p> + +<p> +"Where do you live?" I put in. +</p> + +<p> +"I did live in Philadelphia, but I left there the other day by the +stage-coach, and arrived just now in New York by the boat." +</p> + +<p> +"And why can't you go back there?" I continued. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, because,—I had just money enough left to pay my way to New +York; and even if I should walk back, I've no place there to go back +to, and no one at all—now—" He broke off here, his voice faltering; +and his blue eyes filled with moisture. But he made a swallow, and +checked the tears, and sat gently stroking the head of his kitten. +</p> + +<p> +For a little time none of us spoke, while I stood staring somewhat +abashed at the lad's evident emotion. Madge studied his countenance +intently, and doubtless used her imagination to suppose little +Tom—her younger and favourite brother—in this stranger's place. +Whatever it was that impelled her, she suddenly said to him, "Wait +here," and turning, ran back across the street, and disappeared +through the garden gate. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of following her, the dog went up to the new boy's cat and +sniffed at its nose, causing it to whisk back its head and gaze +spellbound. To show his peaceful mind, the dog wagged his tail, and by +degrees so won the kitten's confidence that it presently put forth its +face again and exchanged sniffs. +</p> + +<p> +"I should think you'd have a dog, instead of a cat," said I, +considering the stranger's sex. +</p> + +<p> +He answered nothing to this, but looked quite affectionately at his +pet. I set it down as odd that so manly a lad should so openly show +liking for a cat. The conduct of the animal in its making acquaintance +with the dog; the good-humoured assurance of the one, and the cautious +coyness of the other; amused us till presently Madge's voice was +heard; and then we saw her coming from the garden, speaking to her +father, who walked bareheaded beside her. Behind, at a little +distance, came Madge's mother and little Tom. All four stopped at the +gateway, and looked curiously toward us. +</p> + +<p> +"Come over here, boy," called Madge, and heeded not the reproof her +mother instantly gave her in an undertone for her forwardness. For any +one of his children but Madge, reproof would have come from her father +also; in all save where she was concerned, he was a singularly correct +and dignified man, to the point of stiffness and austerity. His wife, +a pretty, vain, inoffensive woman, was always chiding her children for +their smaller faults, and never seeing the traits that might lead to +graver ones. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield awaited the effect of Madge's invitation, or +rather command, adding nothing to it. The boy's colour showed his +diffidence, under the scrutiny of so many coldly inquiring eyes; but +after a moment he rose, and I, with greater quickness, seized his bag +by the handle and started across the street with it. He called out a +surprised and grateful "Thank you," and followed me. I was speedily +glad I had not undertaken to carry the bag as far as he had done; +'twas all I could do to bear it. +</p> + +<p> +"How is this, lad?" said Mr. Faringfield, when the boy, with hat off, +stood before him. The tone was stern enough, a stranger would have +thought, though it was indeed a kindly one for Madge's father. "You +have come from Philadelphia to visit Mr. Aitken? Is he your relation?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir; he was a friend of my father's before my father came to +America," replied the lad, in a low, respectful voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet your father did not know he was gone back to England? How is +that?" +</p> + +<p> +"My father is dead, sir; he died six years ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I see," replied Mr. Faringfield, a little taken down from his +severity. "And the letter my little girl tells me of?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, my mother wrote it, sir," said the boy, looking at the +letter in his hand, his voice trembling a little. He seemed to think, +from the manner of the Faringfields, that he was obliged to give a +full account of himself, and so went on. "She didn't know what else to +do about me, sir, as there was no one in Philadelphia—that is, I +mean, she remembered what a friend Mr. Aitken was to my father—they +were both of Oxford, sir; Magdalen college. And so at last she thought +of sending me to him, that he might get me a place or something; and +she wrote the letter to tell him who I was; and she saw to it that I +should have money enough to come to New York,—" +</p> + +<p> +"But I don't understand," interrupted Mr. Faringfield, frowning his +disapproval of something. "What made it necessary for her to dispose +of you? Was she going to marry again?" +</p> + +<p> +"She was going to die, sir," replied the boy, in a reserved tone +which, despite his bashfulness, both showed his own hurt, and rebuked +his elder's thoughtless question. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor boy!" whispered Mrs. Faringfield, grasping her little Tom's +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said her husband, slowly, slightly awed from his sternness. "I +beg your pardon, my lad. I am very sorry, indeed. Your being here, +then, means that you are now an orphan?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," was the boy's only answer, and he lowered his eyes toward +his kitten, and so sad and lonely an expression came into his face +that no wonder Mrs. Faringfield whispered again, "Poor lad," and even +Madge and little Tom looked solemn. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, boy, something must be done about you, that's certain," said +Mr. Faringfield. "You have no money, my daughter says. Spent all you +had for cakes and kickshaws in the towns where the stage-coach +stopped, I'll warrant." +</p> + +<p> +The boy smiled. "The riding made me hungry sir," said he. "I'd have +saved my extra shilling if I'd known how it was going to be." +</p> + +<p> +"But is there nothing coming to you in Philadelphia? Did your mother +leave nothing?" +</p> + +<p> +"Everything was sold at auction to pay our debts—it took the books +and our furniture and all, to do that." +</p> + +<p> +"The books?" +</p> + +<p> +"We kept a book-shop, sir. My father left it to us. He was a +bookseller, but he was a gentleman and an Oxford man." +</p> + +<p> +"And he didn't make a fortune at the book trade, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. I've heard people say he would rather read his books than +sell them." +</p> + +<p> +"From your studious look I should say you took after him." +</p> + +<p> +"I do like to read, sir," the lad admitted quietly, smiling again. +</p> + +<p> +Here Madge put in, with the very belated query: +</p> + +<p> +"What's your name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Philip Winwood," the boy answered, looking at her pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Master Winwood," said Madge's father, "we shall have to take +you in overnight, at least, and then see what's to be done." +</p> + +<p> +At this Mrs. Faringfield said hastily, with a touch of alarm: +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear, is it quite safe? The child might—might have the +measles or something, you know." +</p> + +<p> +Madge tittered openly, and Philip Winwood looked puzzled. Mr. +Faringfield answered: +</p> + +<p> +"One can see he is a healthy lad, and cleanly, though he is tired and +dusty from his journey. He may occupy the end garret room. 'Tis an odd +travelling companion you carry, my boy. Did you bring the cat from +Philadelphia?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; my mother was fond of it, and I didn't like to leave it +behind." +</p> + +<p> +The kitten drew back from the stately gentleman's attempt to tap its +nose with his finger, and evinced a desire to make the acquaintance of +his wife, toward whom it put forth its head as far as possible out of +its basket, beginning the while to purr. +</p> + +<p> +"Look, mamma, it wants to come to you," cried little Tom, delighted. +</p> + +<p> +"Cats and dogs always make friends quicker with handsome people," said +Philip Winwood, with no other intent than merely to utter a fact, of +which those who observe the lower animals are well aware. +</p> + +<p> +"There, my dear," said Mr. Faringfield, "there's a compliment for you +at my expense." +</p> + +<p> +The lady, who had laughed to conceal her pleasure at so innocent a +tribute, now freely caressed the kitten; of which she had been shy +before, as if it also might have the measles. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Philip," she said, a moment later, "come in, and feel that you +are at home. You'll have just time to wash, and brush the dust off, +before supper. He shall occupy the second spare chamber, William," she +added, turning to her husband. "How could you think of sending so nice +and good-looking a lad to the garret? Leave your travelling-bag here, +child; the servants shall carry it in for you." +</p> + +<p> +"This is so kind of you, ma'am, and sir," said Philip, with a lump in +his throat; and able to speak his gratitude the less, because he felt +it the more. +</p> + +<p> +"I am the one you ought to thank," said Madge archly, thus calling +forth a reproving "Margaret!" from her mother, and an embarrassed +smile—part amusement, part thanks, part admiration—from Philip. The +smile so pleased Madge, that she gave one in return and then actually +dropped her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I saw with a pang that the newcomer was already in love with her, and +I knew that the novelty of his adoration would make her oblivious of +my existence for at least a week to come. But I bore him no malice, +and as the Faringfields turned toward the rear veranda of the house, I +said: +</p> + +<p> +"Come and play with me whenever you like. That's where I live, next +door. My name is Herbert Russell, but they call me Bert, for short." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Winwood, and was just about to go down the garden +walk between Madge and little Tom, when the whole party was stopped by +a faint boo-hooing, in a soft and timid voice, a short distance up the +street. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis Fanny," cried Mrs. Faringfield, affrightedly, and ran out from +the garden to the street. +</p> + +<p> +"Ned has been bullying her," said Madge, anger suddenly firing her +pretty face. And she, too, was in the street in a moment, followed by +all of us, Philip Winwood joining with a ready boyish curiosity and +interest in what concerned his new acquaintances. +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough, it was Fanny Faringfield, Madge's younger sister, coming +along the street, her knuckles in her eyes, the tears streaming down +her face; and behind her, with his fists in his coat pockets, and his +cruel, sneering laugh on his bold, handsome face, came Ned, the eldest +of the four Faringfield young ones. He and Fanny were returning from a +children's afternoon tea-party at the Wilmots' house in William +Street, from which entertainment Madge had stayed away because she had +had another quarrel with Ned, whom she, with her self-love and high +spirit, had early learned to hate for his hectoring and domineering +nature. I shared Madge's feeling there, and was usually at daggers +drawn with Ned Faringfield; for I never would take any man's +browbeating. Doubtless my own quickness of temper was somewhat to +blame. I know that it got me into many fights, and had, in fact, kept +me too from that afternoon's tea, I being then not on speaking terms +with one of the Wilmot boys. As for Madge's detestation of Ned, she +made up for it by her love of little Tom, who then and always deserved +it. Tom was a true, kind, honest, manly fellow, from his cradle to +that sad night outside the Kingsbridge tavern. Madge loved Fanny too, +but less wholly. As for Fanny, dear girl, she loved them all, even +Ned, to whom she rendered homage and obedience; and to save whom from +their father's hard wrath, she now, at sight of us all issuing from +the gateway, suddenly stopped crying and tried to look as if nothing +were the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Ned, seeing his father, paled and hesitated; but the next moment came +swaggering on, his face showing a curious succession of fear, +defiance, cringing, and a crafty hope of lying out of his offence. +</p> + +<p> +It was, of course, the very thing Fanny did to shield him, that +certainly betrayed him; and when I knew from her sudden change of +conduct that he was indeed to blame, I would gladly have attacked him, +despite that he was twelve years old and I but ten. But I dared not +move in the presence of our elders, and moreover I saw at once Ned's +father would deal with him to our complete satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"Go to your room, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, in his sternest tone, +looking his anger out of eyes as hard as steel. This meant for Master +Ned no supper, and probably much worse. +</p> + +<p> +"Please, sir, I didn't do anything," answered Ned, with ill-feigned +surprise. "She fell and hurt her arm." +</p> + +<p> +Fanny did not deny this, but she was no liar, and could not confirm +it. So she looked to the ground, and clasped her left wrist with her +right hand. But in this latter movement she again exposed her brother +by the very means she took to protect him; for quick-seeing Madge, +observing the action, gently but firmly unclasped the younger sister's +hand, and so disclosed the telltale marks of Ned's fingers upon the +delicate wrist, by squeezing or wrenching which that tyrant had +evinced his brotherly superiority. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of this, Mrs. Faringfield gave a low cry of horror and +maternal pity, and fell to caressing the bruised wrist; and Madge, +raising her arm girl-wise, began to rain blows on her brother, which +fell wherever they might, but where none of them could hurt. Her +father, without reproving her, drew her quietly back, and with a +countenance a shade darker than before, pointed out the way for Ned +toward the veranda leading to the rear hall-door. +</p> + +<p> +With a vindictive look, and pouting lips, Ned turned his steps down +the walk. Just then he noticed Philip Winwood, who had viewed every +detail of the scene with wonder, and who now regarded Ned with a kind +of vaguely disliking curiosity, such as one bestows on some +sinister-looking strange animal. Philip's look was, of course, +unconscious, but none the less clearly to be read for that. Ned +Faringfield, pausing on his way, stared at the unknown lad, with an +expression of insolent inquiry. Not daring to stay for questions, but +observing the valise, he seemed to become aware that the newcomer was +an already accepted guest of the house; and he thereupon surveyed +Philip a moment, inwardly measuring him as a possible comrade or +antagonist, but affecting a kind of disdain. A look from his father +ended Ned's inspection, and sent him hastily toward his imprisonment, +whither he went with no one's pity but Fanny's—for his mother had +become afraid of him, and little Tom took his likes and dislikes from +his sister Madge. +</p> + +<p> +And so they went in to supper, disappearing from my sight behind the +corner of the parlour wing as they mounted the rear veranda: Mr. and +Mrs. Faringfield first, the mother leading Fanny by the wounded wrist; +the big dog next, wagging his tail for no particular reason; and then +Philip Winwood, with his cat in his basket, Madge at one side of him +and pretending an interest in the kitten while from beneath her lashes +she alertly watched the boy himself, little Tom on the other side +holding Philip's hand. I stood at the gateway, looking after; and with +all my young infatuation for Madge, I had no feeling but one of +liking, for this quiet, strange lad, with the pale, kind face. And I +would to God I might see those three still walking together, as when +children, through this life that has dealt so strangely with them all +since that Summer evening. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="II"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER II. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"><i>The Faringfields.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Having shown how Philip Winwood came among us, I ought to tell at +once, though of course I learned it from him afterwards, all that need +be known of his previous life. His father, after leaving Oxford and +studying medicine in Edinburgh, had married a lady of the latter city, +and emigrated to Philadelphia to practise as a physician. But whether +'twas that the Quaker metropolis was overstocked with doctors even +then, or for other reasons, there was little call for Doctor Winwood's +ministrations. Moreover, he was of so book-loving a disposition that +if he happened to have sat down to a favourite volume, and a request +came for his services, it irked him exceedingly to respond. This being +noticed and getting abroad, did not help him in his profession. +</p> + +<p> +The birth of Philip adding to the doctor's expenses, it soon came +about that, in the land where he had hoped to make a new fortune, he +parted with the last of what fortune he had originally possessed. Then +occurred to him the ingenious thought of turning bookseller, a +business which, far from requiring that he should ever absent himself +from his precious volumes, demanded rather that he should always be +among them. But the stock that he laid in, turned out to comprise +rather such works as a gentleman of learning would choose for company, +than such as the people of Philadelphia preferred to read. +Furthermore, when some would-be purchaser appeared, it often happened +that the book he offered to buy was one for which the erudite dealer +had acquired so strong an affection that he would not let it change +owners. Nor did his wife much endeavour to turn him from this +untradesmanlike course. Besides being a gentle and affectionate woman, +she had that admiration for learning which, like excessive warmth of +heart and certain other traits, I have observed to be common between +the Scotch (she was of Edinburgh, as I have said) and the best of the +Americans. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Philip's father, and when he died of some trouble of the +heart, there was nothing for his widow to do but continue the +business. She did this with more success than the doctor had had, +though many a time it smote her heart to sell some book of those that +her husband had loved, and to the backs of which she had become +attached for his sake and through years of acquaintance. But the +necessities of her little boy and herself cried out, and so did the +debt her husband had accumulated as tangible result of his business +career. By providing books of a less scholarly, more popular +character, such as novels, sermons, plays, comic ballads, religious +poems, and the like; as well as by working with her needle, and +sometimes copying legal and other documents, Mrs. Winwood managed to +keep the kettle boiling. And in the bookselling and the copying, she +soon came to have the aid of Philip. +</p> + +<p> +The boy, too, loved books passionately, finding in them consolation +for the deprivations incidental to his poverty. But, being keenly +sympathetic, he had a better sense of his mother's necessities than +his father had shown, and to the amelioration of her condition and his +own, he sacrificed his love of books so far as to be, when occasion +offered, an uncomplaining seller of those he liked, and a dealer in +those he did not like. His tastes were, however, broader than his +father's, and he joyfully lost himself in the novels and plays his +father would have disdained. +</p> + +<p> +He read, indeed, everything he could put his hands on, that had, to +his mind, reason, or wit, or sense, or beauty. Many years later, when +we were in London, his scholarly yet modest exposition of a certain +subject eliciting the praise of a group in a Pall Mall tavern, and he +being asked "What university he was of," he answered, with a playful +smile, "My father's bookshop." It was, indeed, his main school of +book-learning. But, as I afterward told him, he had studied in the +university of life also. However, I am now writing of his boyhood in +Philadelphia; and of that there is only this left to be said. +</p> + +<p> +In catering to his mind, he did not neglect bodily skill either. His +early reading of Plutarch and other warlike works had filled him with +desire to emulate the heroes of battle. An old copy of Saviolo's book +on honour and fence, written in the reign of Elizabeth, or James, I +forget which, had in some manner found its way to his father's +shelves; and from this Philip secretly obtained some correct ideas of +swordsmanship.<a href="#fn2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> Putting them in practice one day in the shop, with a +stick, when he thought no one was looking, he suddenly heard a cry of +"bravo" from the street door, and saw he was observed by a Frenchman, +who had recently set up in Philadelphia as a teacher of fencing, +dancing, and riding. This expert, far from allowing Philip to be +abashed, complimented and encouraged him; entered the shop, and made +friends with him. The lad, being himself as likable as he found the +lively foreigner interesting, became in time something of a comrade to +the fencing master. The end of this was that, in real or pretended +return for the loan of Saviolo's book, the Frenchman gave Philip a +course of instruction and practice in each of his three arts. +</p> + +<p> +To these the boy added, without need of a teacher, the ability to +shoot, both with gun and with pistol. I suppose it was from being so +much with his mother, between whom and himself there must have existed +the most complete devotion, that notwithstanding his manly and +scholarly accomplishments, his heart, becoming neither tough like the +sportsman's nor dry like the bookworm's, remained as tender as a +girl's—or rather as a girl's is commonly supposed to be. His mother's +death, due to some inward ailment of which the nature was a problem to +the doctors, left him saddened but too young to be embittered. And +this was the Philip Winwood—grave and shy from having been deprived +too much of the company of other boys, but with certain mental and +bodily advantages of which too much of that company would have +deprived him—who was taken into the house of the Faringfields in the +Summer of 1763. +</p> + +<p> +The footing on which he should remain there was settled the very +morning after his arrival. Mr. Faringfield, a rigid and prudent man, +but never a stingy one, made employment for him as a kind of messenger +or under clerk in his warehouse. The boy fell gratefully into the new +life, passing his days in and about the little counting-room that +looked out on Mr. Faringfield's wharf on the East River. He found it +dull work, the copying of invoices, the writing of letters to +merchants in other parts of the world, the counting of articles of +cargo, and often the bearing a hand in loading or unloading some +schooner or dray; but as beggars should not be choosers, so +beneficiaries should not be complainers, and Philip kept his feelings +to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield was an exacting master, whose rule was that his men +should never be idle, even at times when there seemed nothing to do. +If no task was at hand, they should seek one; and if none could be +found, he was like to manufacture one. Thus was Phil denied the +pleasure of brightening or diversifying his day with reading, for +which he could have found time enough. He tried to be interested in +his work, and he in part succeeded, somewhat by good-fellowship with +the jesting, singing, swearing wharfmen and sailors, somewhat by +dwelling often on the thought that he was filling his small place in a +great commerce which touched so distant shores, and so many countries, +of the world. He used to watch the vessels sail, on the few and +far-between days when there were departures, and wish, with inward +sighs, that he might sail with them. A longing to see the great world, +the Europe of history, the Britain of his ancestors, had been +implanted in him by his reading, before he had come to New York, and +the desire was but intensified by his daily contact with the one end +of a trade whose other end lay beyond the ocean. +</p> + +<p> +Outside of the hours of business, Philip's place was that of a member +of the Faringfield household, where, save in the one respect that +after his first night it was indeed the garret room that fell to him, +he was on terms of equality with the children. Ned alone, of them all, +affected toward him the manner of a superior to a dependent. Whatever +were Philip's feelings regarding this attitude of the elder son, he +kept them locked within, and had no more to say to Master Ned than +absolute civility required. With the two girls and little Tom, and +with me, he was, evenings and Sundays, the pleasantest playfellow in +the world. +</p> + +<p> +Ungrudgingly he gave up to us, once we had made the overtures, the +time he would perhaps rather have spent over his books; for he had +brought a few of these from Philadelphia, a fact which accounted for +the exceeding heaviness of his travelling bag, and he had access, of +course, to those on Mr. Faringfield's shelves. His compliance with our +demands was the more kind, as I afterward began to see, for that his +day's work often left him quite tired out. Of this we never thought; +we were full of the spirits pent up all day at school, Madge and Fanny +being then learners at the feet of a Boston maiden lady in our street, +while I yawned and idled my hours away on the hard benches of a Dutch +schoolmaster near the Broadway, under whom Ned Faringfield also was a +student. But fresh as we were, and tired as Philip was, he was always +ready for a romp in our back yard, or a game of hide-and-seek in the +Faringfields' gardens, or a chase all the way over to the Bowling +Green, or all the way up to the Common where the town ended and the +Bowery lane began. +</p> + +<p> +But it soon came out that Phil's books were not neglected, either. The +speed with which his candles burnt down, and required renewal, told of +nocturnal studies in his garret. As these did not perceptibly +interfere with his activity the next day, they were viewed by Mr. +Faringfield rather with commendation than otherwise, and so were +allowed to continue. My mother thought it a sin that no one interfered +to prevent the boy's injuring his health; but when she said this to +Phil himself, he only smiled and answered that if his reading did cost +him anything of health, 'twas only fair a man should pay something for +his pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +My mother's interest in the matter arose from a real liking. She saw +much of Philip, for he and the three younger Faringfields were as +often about our house as about their own. Ours was not nearly as fine; +'twas a white-painted wooden house, like those in New England, but +roomy enough for its three only occupants, my mother and me and the +maid. We were not rich, but neither were we of the poorest. My father, +the predecessor of Mr. Aitken in the customs office, had left +sufficient money in the English funds at his death, to keep us in the +decent circumstances we enjoyed, and there was yet a special fund +reserved for my education. So we could be neighbourly with the +Faringfields, and were so; and so all of us children, including +Philip, were as much at home in the one house as in the other. +</p> + +<p> +One day, in the Fall of that year of Philip's arrival, we young ones +were playing puss-in-a-corner in the large garden—half orchard, half +vegetable plantation—that formed the rear of the Faringfields' +grounds. It was after Phil's working hours, and a pleasant, cool, +windy evening. The maple leaves were yellowing, the oak leaves turning +red. I remember how the wind moved the apple-tree boughs, and the +yellow corn-stalks waiting to be cut and stacked as fodder. (When I +speak of corn, I do not use the word in the English sense, of grain in +general, but in the American sense, meaning maize, of which there are +two kinds, the sweet kind being most delicious to eat, as either kind +is a beautiful sight when standing in the field, the tall stalks +waving their many arms in the breeze.) We were all laughing, and +running from tree to tree, when in from the front garden came Ned, his +face wearing its familiar cruel, bullying, spoil-sport smile. +</p> + +<p> +The wind blowing out Madge's brown hair as she ran, I suppose put him +in mind of what to do. For all at once, clapping his hand to his +mouth, and imitating the bellowing war-whoop of an Indian, he rushed +upon us in that character, caught hold of Madge's hair, and made off +as if to drag her away by it. She, screaming, tried to resist, but of +course could not get into an attitude for doing so while he pulled her +so fast. The end of it was, that she lost her balance and fell, thus +tearing her hair from his grasp. +</p> + +<p> +I, being some distance away, picked up an apple and flung it at the +persecutor's head, which I missed by half an inch. Before I could +follow the apple, Philip had taken the work out of my hands. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a savage," said Phil, in a low voice, but with a fiery eye, +confronting Ned at close quarters. +</p> + +<p> +"And what are you?" replied young Faringfield promptly. "You're a +beggar, that's what you are! A beggar that my father took in." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment or two Phil regarded his insulter in amazed silence; then +answered: +</p> + +<p> +"If only you weren't her brother!" +</p> + +<p> +Here Madge spoke up, from the ground on which she sat: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't let that stop you, Phil!" +</p> + +<p> +"I sha'n't," said Phil, with sudden decision, and the next instant the +astounded Ned was recoiling from a solid blow between the eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Of course he immediately returned the compliment in kind, and as Ned +was a strong fellow, Phil had all he could do to hold his own in the +ensuing scuffle. How long this might have lasted, I don't know, had +not Fanny run between, with complete disregard of her own safety, +calling out: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Phil, you mustn't hurt Ned!" +</p> + +<p> +Her interposition being aided on the other side by little Tom, who +seized Ned's coat-tails and strove to pull him away from injuring +Philip, the two combatants, their boyish belligerence perhaps having +had enough for the time, separated, both panting. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll have it out with you yet!" said Master Ned, short-windedly, +adjusting his coat, and glaring savagely. +</p> + +<p> +"All right!" said Phil, equally out of breath. Ned then left the +field, with a look of contempt for the company. +</p> + +<p> +After that, things went on in the old pleasant manner, except that +Ned, without any overt act to precipitate a fight, habitually treated +Phil with a most annoying air of scorn and derision. This, though +endured silently, was certainly most exasperating. +</p> + +<p> +But it had not to be endured much of the time, for Ned had grown more +and more to disdain our society, and to cultivate companions superior +to us in years and knowledge of the world. They were, indeed, a smart, +trick-playing, swearing set, who aped their elders in drinking, +dicing, card-gambling, and even in wenching. Their zest in this +imitation was the greater for being necessarily exercised in secret +corners, and for their freshness to the vices they affected. +</p> + +<p> +I do not say I was too good for this company and their practices; or +that Philip was either. Indeed we had more than a mere glimpse of +both, for boys, no matter how studious or how aspiring in the long +run, will see what life they can; will seek the taste of forbidden +fruit, and will go looking for temptations to yield to. Indeed, the +higher a boy's intelligence, the more eager may be his curiosity for, +his first enjoyment of, the sins as well as the other pleasures. What +banished us—Philip and me—from Ned's particular set was, first, +Ned's enmity toward us; second, our attachment to a clan of boys +equally bent on playing the rake in secret, though of better +information and manners than Ned's comrades could boast of; third, +Phil's fondness for books, and mine for him; and finally, our love for +Madge. +</p> + +<p> +This last remained unaltered in both of us. As for Madge, as I had +predicted to myself, she had gradually restored me to my old place in +her consideration as the novelty of Philip's newer devotion had worn +off. We seemed now to be equals in her esteem. At one time Phil would +apparently stand uppermost there, at another I appeared to be +preferred. But this alternating superiority was usually due to casual +circumstance. Sometimes, I suppose, it owed itself to caprice; +sometimes, doubtless, to deep design unsuspected by either of us. Boys +are not men until they are well grown; but women are women from their +first compliment. On the whole, as I have said, Phil and I were very +even rivals. +</p> + +<p> +It was sometime in the winter—Philip's first winter with the +Faringfields—that the next outbreak came, between him and Master +Edward. If ever the broad mansion of the Faringfields looked warm and +welcoming, it was in midwinter. The great front doorway, with its +fanlight above, and its panel windows at each side, through which the +light shone during the long evenings, and with its broad stone steps +and out-curving iron railings, had then its most hospitable aspect. +One evening that it looked particularly inviting to me, was when Ned +and the two girls and I were returning with our skates from an +afternoon spent on Beekman's pond. Large flakes were falling softly on +snow already laid. Darkness had caught up with us on the way home, and +when we came in sight of the cheery light enframing the Faringfields' +wide front door, and showing also from the windows at one side, I was +not sorry I was to eat supper with them that evening, my mother having +gone sleighing to visit the Murrays at Incledon, with whom she was to +pass the night. As we neared the door, tired and hungry, whom should +we see coming toward it from the other direction but Philip Winwood. +He had worked over the usual time at the warehouse. Before the girls +or I could exchange halloes with Phil, we were all startled to hear +Ned call out to him, in a tone even more imperious than the words: +</p> + +<p> +"Here, you, come and take my skates, and carry them in, and tell +mother I've stopped at Jack Van Cortlandt's house a minute." +</p> + +<p> +And he stood waiting for Phil to do his bidding. The rest of us +halted, also; while Phil stopped where he was, looking as if he could +not have heard aright. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, are you deaf?" cried Ned, impatiently. "Do as you're bid, and +be quick about it." +</p> + +<p> +Now, of course, there was nothing wrong in merely asking a comrade, as +one does ask a comrade such things, to carry in one's skates while one +stopped on the way. No one was ever readier than Phil to do such +little offices, or great ones either. Indeed, it is the American way +to do favours, even when not requested, and even to inferiors. I have +seen an American gentleman of wealth go in the most natural manner to +the assistance of his own servant in a task that seemed to overtax the +latter, and think nothing of it. But in the case I am relating; apart +from the fact that I, being nearer than Phil, was the proper one of +whom to ask the favour; the phrase and manner were those of a master +to a servant; a rough master and a stupid servant, moreover. And so +Philip, after a moment, merely laughed, and went on his way toward the +door. +</p> + +<p> +At this Master Ned stepped forward with the spirit of chastisement in +his eyes, his skates held back as if he meant to strike Phil with +their sharp blades. But it happened that Philip had by now mounted the +first door-step, and thus stood higher than his would-be assailant. So +Master Ned stopped just out of Philip's reach, and said insolently: +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis time you were taught your place, young fellow. You're one of my +father's servants, that's all; so take in my skates, or I'll show +you." +</p> + +<p> +"You're wrong there," said Phil, with forced quietness. "A clerk or +messenger, in business, is not a personal servant." +</p> + +<p> +"Take in these skates, or I'll brain you with 'em!" cried Ned, to +that. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on and brain!" cried Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"By G—d, I will that!" replied Ned, and made to swing the skates +around by the straps. But his arm was, at that instant, caught in a +powerful grip, and, turning about in surprise, he looked into the +hard, cold eyes of his father, who had come up unseen, having stayed; +at the warehouse even later than Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"If any blows are struck here, you sha'n't be the one to strike them, +sir," he said to Ned. "What's this I hear, of servants? I'll teach you +once for all, young man, that in my house Philip is your equal. Go to +your room and think of that till it becomes fixed in your mind." +</p> + +<p> +To go without supper, with such an appetite, on such a cold night, was +indeed a dreary end for such a day's sport. I, who knew how chilled +and starved Ned must be, really pitied him. +</p> + +<p> +But instead of slinking off with a whimper, he for the first time in +his life showed signs of revolt. +</p> + +<p> +"What if I don't choose to go to my room?" he answered, impudently, to +our utmost amazement. "You may prefer an outside upstart over your +son, if you like, but you can't always make your son a prisoner by the +ordering." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield showed little of the astonishment and paternal wrath +he doubtless felt. He gazed coldly at his defiant offspring a moment; +then took a step toward him. But Ned, with the agility of boyhood, +turned and ran, looking back as he went, and stopping only when he was +at a safe distance. +</p> + +<p> +"Come back," called his father, not risking his dignity in a doubtful +pursuit, but using such a tone that few would dare to disobey the +command. +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose I don't choose to come back," answered Ned, to whose head the +very devil had now certainly mounted. "Maybe there's other places to +go to, where one doesn't have to stand by and see an upstart beggar +preferred to himself, and put in his place, and fed on the best while +he's lying hungry in his dark room." +</p> + +<p> +"If there's another place for you, I'd advise you to find it," said +Mr. Faringfield, after a moment's reflection. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I'll find it," was the reply; and then came what Master Ned knew +would be the crowning taunt and insult to his father. "If it comes to +the worst, I know how I can get to England, where I'd rather be, +anyway." +</p> + +<p> +There was a reason why Mr. Faringfield's face turned dark as a +thunder-cloud at this. You must know, first, that in him alone was +embodied the third generation of colonial Faringfields. The founder of +the American branch of the family, having gone pretty nearly to the +dogs at home, and got into close quarters with the law, received from +his people the alternative of emigrating to Virginia or suffering +justice to take its course. Tossing up his last sixpence, he +indifferently observed, on its coming down, that it lay in favour of +Virginia. So he chose emigration, and was shipped off, upon condition +that if he ever again set foot in England he should be forthwith +turned over to the merciless law. His relations, as he perceived, +cherished the hope that he would die of a fever likely to be caught on +the piece of marshy land in Virginia which they, in a belief that it +was worthless, had made over to him. Pondering on this on the voyage, +and perhaps having had his fill of the flesh and the devil, he +resolved to disappoint his family. And, to make short a very long +story of resolution and toil, he did so, becoming at last one of the +richest tobacco-planters in the province. +</p> + +<p> +He might now have returned to England with safety; but his resentment +against the people who had exiled him when they might have compounded +with justice otherwise, extended even to their country, which he no +longer called his, and he abode still by the condition of his +emigration. He married a woman who had her own special reasons for +inimical feelings toward the English authorities, which any one may +infer who is familiar with one phase (though this was not as large a +phase as English writers seem to think) of the peopling of Virginia. +Although she turned over a new leaf in the province, and seems to have +been a model wife and parent, she yet retained a sore heart against +the mother country. The feeling of these two was early inculcated into +the minds of their children, and their eldest son, in whom it amounted +almost to a mania, transmitted it on to his own successor, our Mr. +Faringfield of Queen Street. +</p> + +<p> +The second Faringfield (father of ours), being taken with a desire for +the civilities and refinements of a town life, moved from Virginia to +New York, married there a very worthy lady of Dutch patroon descent, +and, retaining his Virginia plantation, gradually extended his +business, so that he died a general merchant, with a European and a +West Indian trade, and with vessels of his own. He it was that built +the big Faringfield house in Queen Street. He was of an aspiring mind, +for one in trade, and had even a leaning toward book-knowledge and the +ornaments of life. He was, moreover, an exceedingly proud man, as if a +haughty way were needful to a man of business and an American, in +order to check the contempt with which he might be treated as either. +His large business, his pride, his unreasonable hatred of England +(which he never saw), and a very fine and imposing appearance, he +passed down to our Mr. Faringfield, by whom all these inheritances +were increased. This gentleman, sensible of the injustice of an +inherited dislike not confirmed by experience, took occasion of some +business to make a visit to England, shortly after his father's death. +I believe he called upon his English cousins, now some degrees +removed, and, finding them in their generation ignorant that there +were any American Faringfields, was so coldly received by them, as +well as by the men with whom his business brought him in contact, that +he returned more deeply fixed in his dislike, and with a determination +that no Faringfield under his control should ever again breathe the +air of the mother island. He even chose a wife of French, rather than +English, descent; though, indeed, the De Lanceys, notwithstanding they +were Americans of Huguenot origin, were very good Englishmen, as the +issue proved when the separation came. +</p> + +<p> +Miss De Lancey, however, at that time, had no views or feelings as +between the colonies and England; or if she had any, scarcely knew +what they were. She was a pretty, innocent, small-minded woman; with +no very large heart either, I fancy; and without force of character; +sometimes a little shrewish when vexed, and occasionally given to +prolonged whining complaints, which often won the point with her +husband, as a persistent mosquito will drive a man from a field whence +a giant's blows would not move him. She heard Mr. Faringfield's +tirades against England, with neither disagreement nor assent; and she +let him do what he could to instil his own antagonism into the +children. How he succeeded, or failed, will appear in time. I have +told enough to show why Master Ned's threatening boast, of knowing how +to get to England, struck his father like a blow in the face. +</p> + +<p> +I looked to see Mr. Faringfield now stride forth at all risk and +inflict upon Master Ned some chastisement inconceivable; and Ned +himself took a backward step or two. But his father, after a moment of +dark glowering, merely answered, though in a voice somewhat unsteady +with anger: +</p> + +<p> +"To England or the devil, my fine lad, before ever you enter my door, +until you change your tune!" +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon he motioned the rest of us children to follow him into the +house, leaving his eldest son to turn and trudge defiantly off into +the darkness. From Ned's manner of doing this, I knew that he was sure +of shelter for that night, at least. Noah, the old black servant, +having seen his master through the panel windows, had already opened +the door; and so we went in to the warm, candle-lit hall, Mr. +Faringfield's agitation now perfectly under control, and his anger +showing not at all upon his surface of habitual sternness. +</p> + +<p> +As for the others, Phil walked in a kind of deep, troubled study, into +which he had been thrown by Ned's words regarding him; I was awed into +breathless silence and a mouse-like tread; and kind little Fanny went +gently sobbing with sorrow and fear for her unhappy brother—a sorrow +and fear not shared in the least degree by her sister Madge, whose +face showed triumphant approval of her father's course and of the +outcome. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="III"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER III. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"><i>Wherein 'tis Shown that Boys Are but Boys.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +The Faringfield house, as I have said, was flanked by garden space on +either side. It was on the Eastern side of the street, and so faced +West, the next house Southward being ours. The wide hall that we +entered ran straight back to a door opening from a wooden veranda that +looked toward the rear garden. At the right of this hall, as you went +in, a broad oak stairway invited you to the sleeping floor above. But +before you came to this stairway, you passed a door that gave into the +great parlour, which ran the whole length of the hall, and, being used +only on occasions of festivity or ceremony, was now closed and dark. +At the left of the hall, the first door led to the smaller parlour, as +wide but not as long as the great one, and in daily use as the chief +living-room of the house. Its windows were those through which the +candle-light within had welcomed us from the frosty, snowy air that +evening. Behind this parlour, and reached either directly from it, or +by a second door at the left side of the hall, was the library, +so-called although a single case of eight shelves sufficed to hold all +the books it contained. Yet Philip said there was a world in those +books. The room was a small and singularly cosy one, and here, when +Mr. Faringfield was not occupied at the mahogany desk, we children +might play at chess, draughts, cards, and other games. From this room, +one went back into the dining-room, another apartment endeared to me +by countless pleasant memories. Its two windows looked Southward +across the side grounds (for the hall and great parlour came not so +far back) to our house and garden. Behind the dining-room, and +separating it from the kitchen and pantry, was a passage with a back +stairway and with a bench of washing-basins, easily supplied with +water from a cistern below, and from the kettle in the adjacent +kitchen. To this place we youngsters now hastened, to put ourselves to +rights for supper. The house was carpeted throughout. The great +parlour was panelled in wood, white and gold. The other chief rooms +were wainscoted in oak; and as to their upper walls, some were bright +with French paper, while some shone white with smooth plaster; their +ceilings and borders were decorated with arabesque woodwork. There +were tiled fireplaces, with carved mantels, white, like the +rectangular window-frames and panelled doors. Well, well, 'twas but a +house like countless others, and why should I so closely describe +it?—save that I love the memory of it, and fain would linger upon its +commonest details. +</p> + +<p> +Mighty snug was the dining-room that evening, with its oaken +sideboard, its prints and portraits on the wall, its sputtering fire, +and its well-filled table lighted from a candelabrum in the centre. +The sharp odour of the burning pine was keen to the nostrils, and +mingled with it was the smell of the fried ham. There was the softer +fragrance of the corn meal mush or porridge, served with milk, and +soft was the taste of it also. We had sausage cakes, too, and pancakes +to be eaten either with butter or with the syrup of the maple-tree; +and jam, and jelly, and fruit butter. These things seem homely fare, +no doubt, but there was a skill of cookery in the fat old negress, +Hannah—a skill consisting much in the plentiful use of salt and +pepper at proper stages—that would have given homelier fare a relish +to more fastidious tongues. I miss in the wholesome but limited and +unseasoned diet of the English the variety and savouriness of American +food (I mean the food of the well-to-do in the large towns), which +includes all the English and Scotch dishes, corrected of their +insipidity, besides countless dishes French, German, and Dutch, and +many native to the soil, all improved and diversified by the +surprising genius for cookery which, in so few generations, the negro +race has come to exhibit. I was a busy lad at that meal; a speechless +one, consequently, and for some minutes so engrossed in the business +of my jaws that I did not heed the unwonted silence of the rest. Then +suddenly it came upon me as something embarrassing and painful that +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, who usually conversed at meals, had nothing +to say, and that Philip Winwood sat gloomy and taciturn, merely going +through a hollow form of eating. As for Fanny, she was the picture of +childish sorrow, though now tearless. Only Madge and little Tom, who +had found some joke between themselves, occasionally spluttered with +suppressed laughter, smiling meanwhile knowingly at each other. +</p> + +<p> +Of course this depression was due to the absence of Ned, regarding the +cause of which his mother was still in the dark. Not missing him until +we children had filed in to supper after tidying up, she had then +remarked that he was not yet in. +</p> + +<p> +"He will not be home to supper," Mr. Faringfield had replied, in a +tone that forbade questioning until the pair should be alone, and +motioning his wife to be seated at the table. After that he had once +or twice essayed to talk upon casual subjects, as if nothing had +happened, but he had perceived that the attempt was hopeless while +Mrs. Faringfield remained in her state of deferred curiosity and vague +alarm, and so he had desisted. +</p> + +<p> +After supper, which the lady's impatience made shorter than my +appetite would have dictated, the husband and wife went into the small +parlour, closing the door upon us children in the library. Here I +managed to make a pleasant evening, in games with Madge and little Tom +upon the floor. But Philip, though he came in as was his wont, was not +to be lured into our play or our talk. He did not even read, but sat +silent and pondering, in no cheerful mood. I, not reading him as Madge +did, knew not what the matter was, and accused him of having vapours, +like a girl. He looked at me heedlessly, in reply, as if he scarce +heard. But Madge, apparently, divined his feeling, and at times +respected it, for then she spoke low, and skilfully won me back from +my efforts to enliven him. At other times, his way seemed to irritate +her, and she hinted that he was foolish, and then she was +extraordinarily smiling and adorable to me (always, I now suspect, +with the corner of her eye upon him) as if to draw him back to his +usual good-fellowship by that method. But 'twas in vain. I left at +bedtime, wondering what change had come over him. +</p> + +<p> +That night, I learned afterward, Philip slept little, debating +sorrowfully in his mind. He kept his window slightly open at night, in +all weather; and open also that night was one of the windows of Mr. +and Mrs. Faringfield's great chamber below. A sound that reached him +in the small hours, of Mrs. Faringfield whimpering and weeping, +decided him. And the next morning, after another silent meal, he +contrived to fall into Mr. Faringfield's company on the way to the +warehouse, which they had almost reached ere Phil, very down in the +mouth and perturbed, got up his courage to his unpleasant task and +blundered out in a boyish, frightened way: +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, sir, I wished to tell you—I've made up my mind to +leave—and thank you very much for all your kindness!" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield stared from under his gathered brows, and asked Phil +to repeat the strange thing he had said. +</p> + +<p> +"Leave what, sir?" he queried sharply, when Phil had done so. +</p> + +<p> +"Leave your warehouse, sir; and your house; and New York." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean, my boy?" +</p> + +<p> +And Phil, thankful that Mr. Faringfield had paused to have the talk +out ere they should come among the men at the warehouse, explained at +first in vague terms, but finally in the explicit language to which +his benefactor's questions forced him, that he seemed, in Master Ned's +mind, to be standing in Ned's way; that he would not for the world +appear to supplant any man's son, much less the son of one who had +been so kind to him; that he had unintentionally been the cause of +Ned's departure the evening before; and that he hoped his going would +bring Ned back from the absence which caused his mother grief. "And I +wouldn't stay in New York after leaving you, sir," he said, "for +'twould look as if you and I had disagreed." +</p> + +<p> +To all this Mr. Faringfield replied briefly that Ned was a foolish +boy, and would soon enough come back, glad of what welcome he might +get; and that, as for Philip's going away, it was simply not to be +heard of. But Phil persisted, conceding only that he should remain at +the warehouse for an hour that morning and complete a task he had left +unfinished. Mr. Faringfield still refused to have it that Phil should +go at all. +</p> + +<p> +When Philip had done his hour's work, he went in to his employer's +office to say good-bye. +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, tut," said Mr. Faringfield, looking annoyed at the interruption, +"there's no occasion for goodbyes. But look you, lad. I don't mind +your taking the day off, to put yourself into a reasonable state of +mind. Go home, and enjoy a holiday, and come back to your work +to-morrow, fresh and cheerful. Now, now, boy, I won't hear any more. +Only do as I bid you." And he assumed a chilling reserve that indeed +froze all further possible discussion. +</p> + +<p> +"But I do say good-bye, sir, and mean it," said Phil, tremulously. +"And I thank you from my heart for all you've done for me." +</p> + +<p> +And so, with a lump in his throat, Phil hastened home, and sped up the +stairs unseen, like a ghost; and had all his things out on his bed for +packing, when suddenly Madge, who had been astonished to hear him +moving about, from her mother's room below, flung open his door and +looked in upon him, all amazed. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Phil, what are you doing home at this hour? What are you putting +your things into your valise for?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nothing," said Phil, very downcast. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, it looks as if—you were going away somewhere." +</p> + +<p> +Phil made a brief answer; and then there was a long talk, all the +while he continued to pack his goods, in his perturbation stowing +things together in strange juxtaposition. The end of it was that +Madge, after vowing that if he went she would never speak to him +again, and would hate him for ever, indignantly left him to himself. +Phil went on packing, in all the outward calmness he could muster, +though I'll wager with a very pouting and dismal countenance. At last, +his possessions being bestowed, and the bag fastened with much +physical exertion, he left it on the bed, and slipped down-stairs to +find his one remaining piece of property. Philip's cat had waxed plump +in the Faringfield household, Master Ned always deterred from harming +it by the knowledge that if aught ill befell it, the finger of +accusation would point instantly and surely at him. +</p> + +<p> +Phil was returning up the stairs, his pet under his arm, when Mistress +Madge reappeared before him, with magic unexpectedness, from a doorway +opening on a landing. As she stood in his way there, he stopped, and +the two faced each other. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said she, with sarcastic bitterness, "I suppose you've decided +where you're going to." +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet," he replied. He had thought vaguely of Philadelphia or +Boston, either of which he now had means of reaching, having saved +most of his small salary at the warehouse, for he was not a bound +apprentice. +</p> + +<p> +"I make no doubt," she went on, "'twill be the farthest place you can +find." +</p> + +<p> +Phil gave her a reproachful look, and asked where her mother and the +children were, that he might bid them good-bye. He wondered, indeed, +that Madge had not told her mother of his resolve, for, from that +lady's not seeking him at once, he knew that she was still unaware of +it. He little guessed that 'twas the girl's own power over him she +wished to test, and that she would not enlist her mother's persuasions +but as a last resource. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," she replied carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall look for them," said Philip, and turned to go down-stairs +again. +</p> + +<p> +But (though how could a boy imagine it?) Miss Faringfield would not +have it that his yielding should be due to her mother, if it could be +achieved as a victory for herself. So she stopped him with a sudden +tremulous "Oh, Phil!" and, raising her forearm to the door-post, hid +her face against it, and wept as if her heart would break. +</p> + +<p> +Philip had never before known her to shed a tear, and this new +spectacle, in a second's time, took all the firmness out of him. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madge, I didn't know—don't cry, Madgie—" +</p> + +<p> +She turned swiftly, without looking up, and her face, still in a +shower of tears, found hiding no longer against the door-post, but +against Phil's breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry, Madgie dear,—I sha'n't go!" +</p> + +<p> +She raised her wet face, joy sparkling where the lines had not yet +lost the shape of grief; and Phil never thought to ask himself how +much of her pleasure was for his not going, and how much for the +evidence given of her feminine power. He had presently another thing +to consider, a not very palatable dose to swallow—the returning to +the warehouse and telling Mr. Faringfield of his change of mind. He +did this awkwardly enough, no doubt, but manfully enough, I'll take my +oath, though he always said he felt never so tamed and small and +ludicrous in his life, before or after. +</p> + +<p> +And that scene upon the landing is the last picture, but one, I have +to present of childhood days, ere I hasten, over the period that +brought us all into our twenties and to strange, eventful times. The +one remaining sketch is of an unkempt, bedraggled figure that I saw at +the back hall door of the Faringfields one snowy night a week later, +when, for some reason or other, I was out late in our back garden. +This person, instead of knocking at the door, very cautiously tried it +to see if it would open, and, finding it locked, stood timidly back +and gazed at it in a quandary. Suspecting mischief, I went to the +paling fence that separated our ground from the Faringfields', and +called out, "Who's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hallo, Bert!" came in a very conciliating tone, low-spoken; and then, +as with a sudden thought, "Come over here, will you?" +</p> + +<p> +I crossed the fence, and was in a moment at the side of Master Ned, +who looked exceedingly the worse for wear, in face, figure, and +clothes. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," said he, speaking rapidly, so as to prevent my touching +the subject of his return, "I want to sneak in, and up-stairs to bed, +without the old man seeing me. I don't just like to meet him till +to-morrow. But I can't sneak in, for the door's locked, and Noah would +be sure to tell dad. You knock, and when they let you in, pretend you +came to play with the kids; and whisper Fanny to slip out and open the +door for me." +</p> + +<p> +I entered readily into the strategy, as a boy will, glad of Ned's +return for the sake of Phil, who I knew was ill at ease for Ned's +absence being in some sense due to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Old Noah admitted me at my knock, locked the door after me, and sent +me into the smaller parlour, where the whole family happened to be. +When I whispered my message to Fanny, she turned so many colours, and +made so precipitately for the entrance hall, that her father was put +on the alert. He followed her quietly out, just in time to see a very +shivering, humble, shamefaced youth step in from the snowy outer +night. The sight of his father turned Ned cold and stiff upon the +threshold; but all the father did was to put on a grim look of +contempt, and say: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, I suppose you've changed your tune." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," said the penitent, meekly, and there being now no reason +for secrecy he shambled after his father into the parlour. There, +after his mother's embrace, he grinned sheepishly upon us all. Fanny +was quite rejoiced, and so was little Tom till the novelty wore off; +while Madge greeted the prodigal good-humouredly enough, and one could +read Phil's relief and forgiveness on his smiling face. Master Ned, +grateful for an easier ordeal than he had feared, made no exception +against Phil in the somewhat sickly amiability he had for all, and we +thought that here were reconciliation and the assurance of future +peace. +</p> + +<p> +Ned's home-coming brought trouble in its train, as indeed did his +every reappearance afterward. It came out that he and another boy—the +one in whose house he had found refuge on the night of his running +away—had started off for the North to lead the lives of hunters and +trappers, a career so inviting that they could not wait to provide a +sufficient equipment. They travelled afoot by the Albany post-road, +soliciting food at farmhouses, passing their nights in barns; and got +as far as Tarrytown, ere either one in his pride would admit to the +other, through chattering teeth, that he had had his fill of snow and +hunger and the raw winds of the Hudson River. So footsore, leg-weary, +empty, and frozen were they on their way back, that they helped +themselves to one of Jacob Post's horses, near the Philipse +manor-house; and not daring to ride into town on this beast, +thoughtlessly turned it loose in the Bowery lane, never thinking how +certainly it and they could be traced—for they had been noticed at +Van Cortlandt's, again at Kingsbridge, and again at the Blue Bell +tavern. After receiving its liberty, the horse had been seen once, +galloping toward Turtle Bay, and never again. +</p> + +<p> +So, a few days after Ned's reentrance into the bosom of his family, +there came to the house a constable, of our own town, with a deputy +sent by the sheriff of Westchester County, wanting Master Edward +Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +Frightened and disgraced, his mother sent for her husband; and for the +sake of the family name, Mr. Faringfield adjusted matters by the +payment of twice or thrice what the horse was worth. Thus the would-be +hunter and trapper escaped the discomfort and shame of jail; though by +his father's sentence he underwent a fortnight's detention on bread +and water in his bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +That was the first fright and humiliation that Master Ned brought on +his people; and he brought so many of these in after years, that the +time came when his parents, and all, were rather glad than sorry each +time he packed off again, and shuddered rather than rejoiced when, +after an absence, he turned up safe and healthy as ever, with his old +hangdog smile beneath which lurked a look half-defiant, half-injured. +As he grew older, and the boy in him made room for the man, there was +less of the smile, less injury, more defiance. +</p> + +<p> +I do not remember how many years it was after Philip's coming to New +York, that our Dutch schoolmaster went the way of all flesh, and there +came in his place, to conduct a school for boys only and in more +advanced studies, a pedagogue from Philadelphia, named Cornelius. He +was of American birth, but of European parentage, whether German or +Dutch I never knew. Certainly he had learning, and much more than was +due alone to his having gone through the college at Princeton in New +Jersey. He was in the early twenties, tall and robust, with a large +round face, and with these peculiarities: that his hair, eyebrows, and +lashes were perfectly white, his eyes of a singularly mild blue, his +skin of a pinkish tint; that he was given to blushing whenever he met +women or strangers, and that he spoke with pedantic preciseness, in a +wondrously low voice. But despite his bashfulness, there was a great +deal in the man, and when an emergency rose he never lacked resource. +</p> + +<p> +He it was to whom my education, and Ned Faringfield's, was entrusted, +while the girls and little Tom still strove with the rudiments in the +dame-school. He it was that carried us to the portals of college; and +I carried Philip Winwood thither with me, by studying my lessons with +him in the evenings. In many things he was far beyond Mr. Cornelius's +highest teaching; but there had been lapses in his information, and +these he filled up, and regulated his knowledge as well, through +accompanying me in my progress. And he continued so to accompany me, +making better use of my books than ever I made, as I went through the +King's College; and that is the way in which Phil Winwood got his +stock of learning eked out, and put in due shape and order. +</p> + +<p> +It happened that Philip's taste fastened upon one subject of which +there was scarce anything to be learned by keeping pace with my +studies, but upon which much was to be had from books in the college +library, of which I obtained the use for him. It was a strange subject +for a youth to take up at that time, or any time since, and in that +colonial country—architecture. Yet 'twas just like Phil Winwood to be +interested in something that all around him neglected or knew nothing +about. What hope an American could have in the pursuit of an art, for +which the very rare demands in his country were supplied from Europe, +and which indeed languished the world over, I could not see. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then," said Phil, "'twill be worth while trying to waken +this sleeping art, and to find a place for it in this out-of-the-way +country. I wouldn't presume to attempt new forms, to be sure; but one +might revive some old ones, and maybe try new arrangements of them." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you think you'll really be an architect?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, if it's possible. 'Faith, I'm not so young any more that I still +want to be a soldier, or a sailor either. One thing, 'twill take years +of study; I'll have to go to Europe for that." +</p> + +<p> +"To England?" +</p> + +<p> +"First of all." +</p> + +<p> +"What will Mr. Faringfield say to that?" +</p> + +<p> +"He will not mind it so much in my case. I'm not of the Faringfield +blood." +</p> + +<p> +"Egad," said I, "there's some of the Faringfield blood hankers for a +sight of London." +</p> + +<p> +"Whose? Ned's?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Margaret's." +</p> + +<p> +We were young men now, and she would not let us call her Madge any +more. What I had said was true. She had not grown up without hearing +and reading much of the great world beyond the sea, and wishing she +might have her taste of its pleasures. She first showed a sense of her +deprivation—for it was a deprivation for a rich man's daughter—when +she finished at the dame-school and we boys entered college. Then she +hinted, very cautiously, that her and Fanny's education was being +neglected, and mentioned certain other New York gentlemen's daughters, +who had been sent to England to boarding-schools. +</p> + +<p> +Delicately as she did this, the thought that his favourite child could +harbour a wish that involved going to England, was a blow to Mr. +Faringfield. He hastened to remove all cause of complaint on the score +of defective education. He arranged that the music teacher, who gave +the girls their lessons in singing and in playing upon the harpsichord +and guitar, should teach them four days a week instead of two. He +engaged Mr. Cornelius to become an inmate of his house and to give +them tuition out of his regular school hours. He paid a French widow +to instruct them in their pronunciation, their book-French and grammar +being acquired under Mr. Cornelius's teaching. And so, poor girls, +they got only additional work for Margaret's pains. But both of them +were docile, Fanny because it was her nature to be so, Margaret +because she had taken it into her head to become an accomplished lady. +We never guessed her dreams and ambitions in those years, and to this +day I often wonder at what hour in her girlhood the set design took +possession of her, that design which dominated all her actions when we +so little guessed its existence. Besides these three instructors, the +girls had their dancing-master, an Englishman who pretended to impart +not only the best-approved steps of a London assembly-room, but its +manners and graces as well. +</p> + +<p> +So much for the education of the girls, Philip, and myself. Ned +Faringfield's was interrupted by his expulsion from King's for gross +misconduct; and was terminated by his disgrace at Yale College +(whither his father had sent him in vain hope that he might behave +better away from home and more self-dependent) for beating a smaller +student whom he had cheated at a clandestine game of cards. His +home-coming on this occasion was followed by his being packed off to +Virginia to play at superintending his father's tobacco plantations. +Neglecting this business to go shooting on the frontier, he got a +Scotch Presbyterian mountaineer's daughter into trouble; and when he +turned up again at the door in Queen Street, he was still shaky with +recollections of the mob of riflemen that had chased him out of +Virginia. That piece of sport cost his father a pretty penny, and +resulted in a place being got for Ned with a merchant who was Mr. +Faringfield's correspondent in the Barbadoes. So to the tropics the +young gentleman was shipped, with sighs of relief at his embarkation, +and—I have no doubt—with unuttered prayers that he might not show +his face in Queen Street for a long time to come. Already he had got +the name, in the family, of "the bad shilling," for his always coming +back unlooked for. +</p> + +<p> +How different was his younger brother!—no longer "little Tom" (though +of but middle height and slim build), but always gay-hearted, +affectionate, innocent, and a gentleman. He was a handsome lad, +without and within—yes, "lad" I must call him, for, though he came to +manly years, he always seemed a boy to me. He followed in our steps, +in his time, through Mr. Cornelius's school, and into King's College, +too, but the coming of the war cut short his studies there. +</p> + +<p> +It must have been in the year 1772—I remember Margaret spoke of her +being seventeen years old, in which case I was nineteen—when I got +(and speedily forgot) my first glimpse of Margaret's inmost mind. We +were at the play—for New York had had a playhouse ever since Mr. +Hallam had brought thither his company, with whom the great Garrick +had first appeared in London. I cannot recall what the piece was that +night; but I know it must have been a decent one, or Margaret would +not have been allowed to see it; and that it purported to set forth +true scenes of fashionable life in London. At one side of Margaret her +mother sat, at the other was myself, and I think I was that time their +only escort. +</p> + +<p> +"What a fright!" said Margaret in my ear, as one of the actresses came +upon the stage with an affected gait, and a look of thinking herself +mighty fine and irresistible. "'Tis a slander, this." +</p> + +<p> +"Of whom?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Of the fine ladies these poor things pretend to represent." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know?" I retorted, for I was somewhat taken with the +actresses, and thought to avenge them by bringing her down a peg or +two. "Have you seen so much of London fine ladies?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, poor me!" she said sorrowfully, without a bit of anger, so that I +was softened in a trice. "But the ladies of New York, even, are no +such tawdry make-believes as this.—Heaven knows, I would give ten +years of life for a sight of the fine world of London!" +</p> + +<p> +She was looking so divine at that moment, that I could not but +whisper: +</p> + +<p> +"You would see nothing finer there than yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think so?" she quickly asked, flashing her eyes upon me in a +strange way that called for a serious answer. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis the God's truth," I said, earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she was silent; then she whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"What a silly whimsy of my father, his hatred of England! Does he +imagine none of us is really ever to see the world?—That reminds me, +don't forget the <i>Town and Country Magazine</i> to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +I had once come upon a copy of that publication, which reflected the +high life of England, perhaps too much on its scandalous side; and had +shown it to Margaret. Immediately she had got me to subscribe for it, +and to pass each number clandestinely to her. I, delighted to do her a +favour, and to have a secret with her, complied joyously; and obtained +for her as many novels and plays as I could, as well. +</p> + +<p> +Little I fancied what bee I thus helped to keep buzzing in her pretty +head, which she now carried with all the alternate imperiousness and +graciousness of confident and proven beauty. Little I divined of +feminine dreams of conquest in larger fields; or foresaw of dangerous +fruit to grow from seed planted with thoughtlessness. To my mind, +nothing of harm or evil could ensue from anything done, or thought, in +our happy little group. To my eyes, the future could be only radiant +and triumphant. For I was still but a lad at heart, and to think as I +did, or to be thoughtless as I was, is the way of youth. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="IV"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER IV. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"><i>How Philip and I Behaved as Rivals in Love.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +I was always impatient, and restless to settle uncertainties. One fine +morning in the Spring of 1773, Philip and I were breaking the Sabbath +by practising with the foils in our back garden. Spite of all the +lessons I had taken from an English fencing-master in the town, Phil +was still my superior in the gentlemanly art. After a bout, on this +sunshiny morning, we rested upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a +world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms +were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was +full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that +was in my mind came out. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil—though 'tis none of my +business,—" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you—any agreement or +understanding, I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise +between her and you, either." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves +about—Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pass, each +waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and +carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl +in town." +</p> + +<p> +"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all, +even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on +a step further than the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, but in time—she's eighteen now, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a +husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with, +and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret +accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van +Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or +Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them." +</p> + +<p> +"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men +couldn't see anything in." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they +make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret +has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of +herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish +fop, or any of these that hang about her." +</p> + +<p> +'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered +men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and +unworthy. +</p> + +<p> +"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society." +</p> + +<p> +"But," said I, dubiously, "if none of them has a chance, how is it +with us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, 'tis well-proved that she doesn't tire of us. For years and +years, she has had us about her every day, and has been content with +our society. That shows she could endure us to be always near her." +</p> + +<p> +It was true, indeed. And I should explain here that, as things were in +America then, and with Mr. Faringfield and Margaret, neither of us was +entirely ineligible to the hand of so rich and important a man's +daughter; although the town would not have likened our chances to +those of a De Lancey, a Livingstone, or a Philipse. I ought to have +said before, that Philip was now of promising fortune. He had risen in +the employ of Mr. Faringfield, but, more than that, he had invested +some years' savings in one of that merchant's shipping ventures, and +had reinvested the profits, always upon his benefactor's advice, until +now his independence was a certain thing. If he indeed tried +architecture and it failed him as a means of livelihood, he might at +any time fall back upon his means and his experience as a merchant +adventurer. As for me, I also was a beneficiary of Mr. Faringfield's +mercantile transactions by sea, my mother, at his hint, having drawn +out some money from the English funds, and risked it with him. +Furthermore, I had obtained a subordinate post in the customs office, +with a promise of sometime succeeding to my father's old place, and +the certainty of remaining in his Majesty's service during good +behaviour. This meant for life, for I had now learned how to govern my +conduct, having schooled myself, for the sake of my mother's peace of +mind, to keep out of trouble, often against my natural impulses. Thus +both Phil and I might aspire to Margaret; and, moreover, 'twas like +that her father would provide well for her if she found a husband to +his approval. It did not then occur to me that my employment in the +English service might be against me in Mr. Faringfield's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said I, reaching the main point at last, "as you think we are +endurable to her—which of us shall it be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that question is for her to settle," said Phil, with a smile +half-amused, half-surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"But she will have to be asked. So which of us—?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think it matters," he replied. "If she prefers one of us, she +will take him and refuse the other, whether he ask first or last." +</p> + +<p> +"But suppose she likes us equally. In that case, might not the first +asker win, merely for his being first?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think it scarce possible but that in her heart she must favour one +above all others, though she may not know it yet." +</p> + +<p> +"But it seems to me—" +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith, Bert, do as you like, I sha'n't say nay, or think nay. If you +ask her, and she accepts you, I shall be sure you are the choice of +her heart. But as for me, I have often thought of the matter, and this +is what I've come to: not to speak to her of it, until by some hint or +act she shows her preference." +</p> + +<p> +"But the lady must not make the first step." +</p> + +<p> +"Not by proposal or direct word, of course—though I'll wager there +have been exceptions to that; but I've read, and believe from what +I've seen, that 'tis oftenest the lady that gives the first hint. No +doubt, she has already made sure of the gentleman's feelings, by signs +he doesn't know of. If a man didn't receive some leading on from a +woman, how would he dare tell her his mind?—for if he loves her he +must dread her refusal, or scorn, beyond all things. However that be, +I've seen, in companies, and at the play, and even in church, how +girls contrive to show their partiality to the fellows they prefer. +Why, we've both had it happen to us, when we were too young for the +fancy to last. And 'tis the same, I'll wager, when the girls are +women, and the stronger feeling has come, the kind that lasts. Be sure +a girl as clever as Margaret will find a way of showing it, if she has +set her mind on either of us. And so, I'm resolved to wait for some +sign from her before I speak." +</p> + +<p> +He went on to explain that this course would prolong, to the +unfortunate one, the possession of the pleasures of hope. It would +save him, and Margaret, from the very unpleasant incident of a +rejection. Such a refusal must always leave behind it a certain +bitterness in the memory, that will touch what friendship remains +between the two people concerned. And I know Philip's wish that, +though he might not be her choice, his old friendship with her might +continue perfectly unmarred, was what influenced him to avoid a +possible scene of refusal. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I shall do as you do," said I, "and if I see any sign, either in +my favour or yours, be sure I'll tell you." +</p> + +<p> +"I was just about to propose that," said Phil; and we resumed our +fencing. +</p> + +<p> +There was, in our plan, nothing to hinder either of us from putting +his best foot forward, as the saying is, and making himself as +agreeable to the young lady as he could. Indeed that was the quickest +way to call forth the indication how her affections stood. I don't +think Phil took any pains to appear in a better light than usual. It +was his habit to be always himself, sincere, gentle, considerate, and +never thrusting forward. He had acquired with his growth a playful +humour with which to trim his conversation, but which never went to +tiresome lengths. This was all the more taking for his quiet manner, +which held one where noise and effort failed. But I exerted myself to +be mighty gallant, and to show my admiration and wit in every +opportune way. +</p> + +<p> +I considered that Phil and I were evenly matched in the rivalry; for +when a young fellow loves a girl, be she ever so divine, and though he +feel in his heart that she is too good for him, yet he will believe it +is in him to win her grace. If he think his self-known attractions +will not suffice, he will trust to some possible hidden merits, +unperceived by himself and the world, but which will manifest +themselves to her sight in a magical manner vouchsafed to lovers. Or +at worst, if he admit himself to be mean and unlikely, he will put +reliance upon woman's caprice, which, as we all know, often makes +strange selections. As for me, I took myself to be quite a conquering +fellow. +</p> + +<p> +In looks, 'twas my opinion that Philip and I were equally gifted. Phil +was of a graceful, slender figure; within an inch of six feet, I +should say; with a longish face, narrowing from the forehead downward, +very distinctly outlined, the nose a little curved, the mouth still as +delicate as a boy's. Indeed he always retained something boyish in his +look, for all his studiousness and thoughtfulness, and all that came +later. He was not as pale as in boyhood, the sea breezes that swept in +from the bay, past the wharves, having given him some ruddiness. His +eyes, I have said, were blue, almost of a colour with Margaret's. I +was an inch or two shorter than Phil, my build was more heavy and +full, my face more of an equal width, my nose a little upturned so as +to give me an impudent look, my eyes a darkish brown. +</p> + +<p> +That I was not Phil's match in sense, learning, talents, self-command, +and modesty, did not occur to me as lessening my chances with a woman. +If I lacked real wit, I had pertness; and I thought I had a manner of +dashing boldness, that must do one-half the business with any girl, +while my converse trick of softening my voice and eyes to her on +occasion, would do the other half. +</p> + +<p> +But Margaret took her time before giving a hint of her heart's +condition. She was the same old comrade to us, she confided to us her +adverse opinions of other people, laughed with us, and often at us +(when it was like as not that she herself had made us ridiculous), +told us her little secrets, let us share her gaiety and her dejection +alike, teased us, soothed us, made us serve her, and played the +spoiled beauty with us to the full of the part. And a beauty she was, +indeed; ten times more than in her childhood. The bud was approaching +its full bloom. She was of the average tallness; slender at neck, +waist, wrist, and ankle, but filling out well in the figure, which had +such curves as I swear I never saw elsewhere upon earth. She had the +smallest foot, with the highest instep; such as one gets not often an +idea of in England. Her little head, with its ripples of chestnut +hair, sat like that of a princess; and her face, oval in shape, proud +and soft by turns in expression—I have no way of conveying the +impression it gave one, but to say that it made me think of a nosegay +of fresh, flawless roses, white and red. Often, by candle-light, +especially if she were dressed for a ball, or sat at the play, I would +liken her to some animate gem, without the hardness that belongs to +real precious stones; for indeed she shone like a jewel, thanks to the +lustre of her eyes in artificial light. Whether from humidity or some +quality of their substance, I do not know, but they reflected the rays +as I have rarely seen eyes do; and in their luminosity her whole face +seemed to have part, so that her presence had an effect of warm +brilliancy that lured and dazzled you. To see her emerge from the +darkness of the Faringfield coach, or from her sedan-chair, into the +bright light of open doorways and of lanterns held by servants, was to +hold your breath and stand with lips parted in admiration, until she +made you feel your nothingness by a haughty indifference in passing, +or sent you glowing to the seventh heaven by a radiant smile. +</p> + +<p> +While we were waiting for the heart of our paragon to reveal itself, +life in Queen Street was diversified, in the Fall of 1773, by an +unexpected visit. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield and Philip, as they entered the dining-room one +evening after their return from the warehouse, observed that an +additional place had been made at the table. Without speaking, the +merchant looked inquiringly, and with a little of apprehension, at his +lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Ned has come back," she answered, trying to speak as if this were +quite cheerful news. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield's face darkened. Then, with some sarcasm, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"He did not go out of his way to stop at the warehouse in coming from +the landing." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no doubt the ship did not anchor near our wharf. He came by the +<i>Sophy</i> brig. He took some tea, and changed his clothes, and went out +to meet a fellow passenger at the coffee-house. They had some business +together." +</p> + +<p> +"Business with a pack of cards, I make no doubt; or else with rum or +madeira." +</p> + +<p> +'Twas the second of these conjectures that turned out right. For Mr. +Edward did not come home in time to occupy at supper the place that +had been set for him. When he did appear, he said he had already +eaten. Perhaps it was to strengthen his courage for meeting his +father, that he had imbibed to the stage wherein he vilely smelt of +spirits and his eyes and face were flushed. He was certainly bold +enough when he received his father's cold greeting in the parlour, +about nine o'clock at night. +</p> + +<p> +"And, pray, what circumstance gives us the honour of this visit?" +asked Mr. Faringfield, not dissembling his disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," says Mr. Ned, quite undaunted, and dropping his burly form into +an armchair with an air of being perfectly at home, "to tell the +truth, 'tis a hole, the place you sent me to; a very hell-hole." +</p> + +<p> +"By what arrangement with Mr. Culverson did you leave it?" Mr. +Culverson was the Barbadoes merchant by whom Edward had been employed. +</p> + +<p> +"Culverson!" echoed Ned, with a grin. "I doubt there was little love +lost between me and Culverson! 'Culverson,' says I, 'the place is a +hole, and the next vessel bound for New York, I go on her.' 'And a +damned good riddance!' says Culverson (begging your pardon! I'm only +quoting what the man said), and that was the only arrangement I +remember of." +</p> + +<p> +"And so that you are here, what now?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, +looking as if he appreciated Mr. Culverson's sentiments. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir, as for that, I think 'tis for you to say." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, seeing that I'm your son, whom you're bound to provide +for." +</p> + +<p> +"You are twenty-two, I think," says Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +"I take it, a few paltry years more or less don't alter my rights, or +the responsibilities of a parent. Don't think, sir, I shall stand up +and quietly see myself robbed of my birthright. I'm no longer the man +to play the Esek, or Esock, or whatever—" +</p> + +<p> +"Esau," prompted Fanny, in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"And my mouth isn't to be stopped by any mess of porridge." +</p> + +<p> +"Pottage," corrected Fanny. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, rising, and holding himself very +stiffly, "I'll think upon it." Whereupon he went into the library, and +closed the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis certain that he had both the strength and the inclination to +chastise his son for these insulting rum-incited speeches, and to cast +him out to shift for his own future; instead of enduring heedlessly +the former, and offering to consider the latter. His strength was +equal to his pride, and he was no colder without than he was +passionate within. But there was one thing his strength of mind fell +short of facing, and that was the disgrace to the family, which the +eldest son might bring were he turned looser, unprovided for, in New +York. 'Twas the fear of such disgrace that always led Mr. Faringfield +to send Ned far away; and made him avoid any scene of violence which +the youth, now that he was a man and grown bold, might precipitate in +discussions such as the father had but now cut short. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I call that frigid," complained Edward to his mother, staring at +the door behind which Mr. Faringfield had disappeared. "Here was I, in +for a pleasant confab with my father, concerning my future; and before +I can put in a word, out he flings, and there's an end of it. 'Tisn't +fatherly, I protest! Well, well, I might have known! He was always +stony-hearted; never would discuss matters. That's the gratitude I get +for putting the case to him in a reasonable, docile, filial fashion. +However, he said he'd think upon it. That means I shall stay here, and +take a holiday, till he makes up his mind where to ship me to next. +'Twon't be England, I fancy, mother. I wouldn't object to France, +egad! I could learn to eat frogs as soon as another man, if it came to +that. Well, I need a holiday, after working so hard in that cursed +devil's paradise I've just come from. I suppose I can depend on you +for a little pocket-money, ma'am, till dad comes to a conclusion?" +</p> + +<p> +During the next fortnight, as he passed most of his time in the +taverns and the coffee-house, save when he attended horse-races on +Long Island, or chased foxes upon Tom's horse, or lent the honour of +his presence to cock-fights; Mr. Edward found his mother's resources +inadequate to his demands, and so levied tribute not only upon Fanny +and Tom but also upon Mr. Cornelius, who still abode in the +Faringfield house, and upon Philip Winwood. To Phil his manner was +more than civil; 'twas most conciliating and flattering, in a +pleasantly jocular way. +</p> + +<p> +Ere Mr. Faringfield had announced his mind, the visitor had worn out +his welcome in most of his tavern haunts, and become correspondingly +tired of New York. One evening, as Philip was leaving the warehouse, a +negro boy handed him a note, in which Mr. Ned begged him to come +immediately, on a matter of importance, to the King's Arms tavern. +There he found Edward seated at a small table in a corner of the +tap-room. Ned would have it that Phil should send home his excuses, by +the negro, and sup at the tavern; which, for the sake of peace, though +unwillingly, Philip finally consented to do. +</p> + +<p> +Edward was drinking rum, in a kind of hot punch of his own mixing. +Phil, though fond of madeira at home, now contented himself with ale; +and the two were soon at work upon a fried chicken prepared in the +Maryland fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Phil," says Ned at last, having talked in a lively strain +upon a multitude of matters, none of which Philip perceived to be +important, "'fore gad, I always liked you! Tis so, as the Lord's my +judge. Nay, you think I took a damned odd way of showing it. But we're +not all alike. Now look you! Hearken unto me, as the parson says. I +can say a good word for you in a certain ear." +</p> + +<p> +"Whose?" queried Phil, wondering in what ear he needed a good word +said. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose, eh? Now whose would it be? Come, come, I'll speak to the +point. I'm no man for palaver. 'Tis an ear you've whispered more than +one sweet thing into, I'll warrant. You're young, Philip, young: you +think you can fall in love and nobody find it out. Why, I hadn't been +landed two hours, and asked the news, when I was told that you and +Bert Russell were over ears in love with my sister." +</p> + +<p> +Phil merely looked his astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, sir, you mayn't think it," says Mr. Ned, "but my word has some +weight with Fanny." +</p> + +<p> +"Fanny?" echoed Philip. "What has she to do with it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, everything, I fancy. The lady usually has—" +</p> + +<p> +"But Fanny isn't the lady." +</p> + +<p> +"What? Then who the devil is?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think 'tis a matter need be talked of now," said Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"But I'd like to know—'gad, it can't be the other sister! Madge—that +spitfire! Well, well! Your face speaks, if your tongue won't. Who'd +have thought any man would go soft over such a vixen? Well, I can't +help you there, my lad!" +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't asked your help," says Phil with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, it's a pity," says Ned, dolefully, "for I thought by doing you a +good turn I might get you to do me another." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I see! Why, then, as for my doing you a good turn if it's +possible, speak out. What is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now, I call that noble of you, Phil; damned noble! I do need a good +turn, and that's a fact. You see I didn't tell my father exactly the +truth as to my leaving the Barbadoes. Not that I don't scorn a lie, +but I was considerate of the old gentleman's feelings. I couldn't +endure to shock him in his tenderest place. You understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"I probably shall when you've finished." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I dare say you know what the old man's tenderest place is. Well, +if you won't answer, 'tis his pride in the family name, the spotless +name of Faringfield! Oh, I've worked upon that more than once, I tell +you. The old gentleman will do much to keep the name without a +blemish; I could always bring him to terms by threatening to disgrace +it—" +</p> + +<p> +"What a rascal you've been, then!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, maybe so; we're not all saints. But I've always kept my word +with father, and whenever he gave me the money I wanted, or set me up +in life again, I kept the name clean—comparatively clean, that is to +say, as far as any one in New York might know. And even this time—at +the Barbadoes—'twasn't with any purpose of punishing father, I vow; +'twas for my necessities, I made myself free with a thousand pounds of +Culverson's." +</p> + +<p> +"The devil! Do you mean you embezzled a thousand pounds?" +</p> + +<p> +"One cool, clean thousand! My necessities, I tell you. There was a +debt of honour, you must know; a damned unlucky run at the cards, and +the navy officer that won came with a brace of pistols and gave me two +days in which to pay. And then there was a lady—with a brat, confound +her!—to be sent to England, and looked after. You see, 'twas honour +moved me in the first case, and chivalry in the second. As a +gentleman, I couldn't withstand the promptings of noble sentiments +like those." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, then I came away. And I hadn't the heart to break the truth to +father, knowing how 'twould cut him up. I thought of the old +gentleman's family pride, his gray hairs—his hair <i>is</i> gray by this +time, isn't it?—" +</p> + +<p> +"And what is it you wish me to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you see, Culverson hadn't yet found out how things were, when I +left. I pretended I was ill—and so I was, in a way. But he must have +found out by this time, and when he sends after me, by the next +vessel, I'm afraid poor father will have to undergo a severe +trial—you know his weakness for the honoured name of Faringfield." +</p> + +<p> +"By the Lord, Ned, this is worse than I should ever have thought of +you." +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>is</i> a bit bad, isn't it? And I've been thinking what's to be +done—for father's sake, you know. If 'twere broken to him gently, at +once, as nobody but you can break it, why then, he might give me the +money to repay Culverson, and send me back to Barbadoes by the next +ship, and nothing need ever come out. I'm thoroughly penitent, so help +me, heaven, and quite willing to go back." +</p> + +<p> +"And incur other debts of honour, and obligations of chivalry," says +Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll see the cards in hell first, and the women too, by gad!" whereat +Mr. Edward brought his fist down upon the table most convincingly. +</p> + +<p> +He thought it best to spend that night at the tavern; whither Phil +went in the morning with news of Mr. Faringfield's reception of the +disclosure. The merchant had listened with a countenance as cold as a +statue's, but had promptly determined to make good the thousand pounds +to Mr. Culverson, and that Ned should return to the Barbadoes without +the formality of bidding the family farewell. But the money was to be +entrusted not to Mr. Edward, but to Mr. Faringfield's old clerk, +Palmer, who was to be the young man's travelling companion on the +Southward voyage. At word of this last arrangement, Edward showed +himself a little put out, which he told Phil was on account of his +father's apparent lack of confidence. But he meditated awhile, and +took on a more cheerful face. +</p> + +<p> +It happened—and, as it afterward came out, his previous knowledge of +this had suggested the trick he played upon Phil and Mr. +Faringfield—that, the same day on which the next Barbadoes-bound +vessel sailed, a brig left port for England. Both vessels availed +themselves of the same tide and wind, and so went down the bay +together. +</p> + +<p> +On the Barbadoes vessel, Ned and Mr. Palmer were to share the same +cabin; and thither, ere the ship was well out of the East River, the +old clerk accompanied Ned for the purpose of imbibing a beverage which +the young gentleman protested was an unfailing preventive of +sea-sickness, if taken in time. Once in the cabin, and the door being +closed, Mr. Ned adroitly knocked Palmer down with a blow from behind; +gagged, bound, and robbed him of the money, and left him to his +devices. Returning to the deck, he induced the captain to put him, by +boat, aboard the brig bound for England, which was still close at +hand. Taking different courses, upon leaving the lower bay, the two +vessels were soon out of hail, and that before the discovery of the +much puzzled Palmer's condition in his cabin. +</p> + +<p> +The poor old man had to go to the Barbadoes, and come back again, +before a word of this event reached the ears of Mr. Faringfield. When +Palmer returned with his account of it, he brought word from Mr. +Culverson that, although Ned had indeed settled a gambling debt at the +pistol's point, and had indeed paid the passage of a woman and child +to England, his theft had been of less than a hundred pounds. Thus it +was made manifest that Ned had lied to Philip in order to play upon +his father's solicitude concerning the name of Faringfield for +integrity, and so get into his hands the means of embarking upon the +pleasures of the Old World. Very foolish did poor Philip look when he +learned how he had been duped. But Mr. Faringfield, I imagine, +consoled himself with the probability that New York had seen the last +of Mr. Edward. +</p> + +<p> +I think 'twas to let Mr. Faringfield recover first from the feelings +of this occasion, that Philip postponed so long the announcement of +his intention to go to England. Thus far he had confided his plans to +me alone, and as a secret. But now he was past twenty-one years, and +his resolution could not much longer be deferred. Nevertheless, not +until the next June—that of 1774—did he screw up his courage to the +point of action. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall tell him to-day," said Philip to me one Monday morning, as I +walked with him part of the way to the warehouses. "Pray heaven he +takes it not too ill." +</p> + +<p> +I did not see Phil at dinner-time; but in the afternoon, a little +before his usual home-coming hour, he came seeking me, with a very +relieved and happy face; and found me trimming a grape-vine in our +back garden, near the palings that separated our ground from Mr. +Faringfield's. On the Faringfield side of the fence, at this place, +grew bushes of snowball and rose. +</p> + +<p> +"How did he take it?" I asked, smiling to see Phil's eyes so bright. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, very well. He made no objection; said he had not the right to +make any in my case. But he looked so upset for a moment, so +deserted—I suppose he was thinking how his own son had failed him, +and that now his beneficiary was turning from him—that I wavered. But +at that he was the same haughty, immovable man as ever, and I +remembered that each of us must live his own life; and so 'tis +settled." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said I, with a little of envy at his prospect, and much of +sorrow at losing him, and some wonder about another matter, "I'm glad +for your sake, though you may imagine how I'll miss you. But how can +you go yet? 'Tis like leaving the field to me—as to <i>her</i>, you know." +I motioned with my head toward the Faringfield house. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," he replied, as we both sat down on the wooden bench, "as I +shall be gone years when I do go, Mr. Faringfield stipulated only that +I should remain with him here another year; and I was mighty glad he +did, or I should have had to make that offer. 'Twasn't that I was +anxious to be off so soon, that made me tell him I was going; 'twas +that in harbouring the intention, while he still relied upon my +remaining always with him, I seemed to be guilty of a kind of +treachery. As for—<i>her</i> , if she gives no indication within a year, +especially when she knows I'm going, why, 'twill be high time to leave +the field to you, I think." +</p> + +<p> +"She doesn't know yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; I came first to you. Her father isn't home yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Phil, there's little for me to say. You know what my feelings +are. After all, we are to have you for a year, and then—well, I hope +you may become the greatest architect that ever lived!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, now, 'tis strange; you remind me of my reason for going. Since +Mr. Faringfield gave me his sanction, I hadn't thought of that. I'm +afraid I've been something of a hypocrite. And yet I certainly thought +my desire to go was chiefly on account of my architectural studies; +and I certainly intend to pursue them, too. I must have deceived +myself a little, though, by dwelling on that reason as one that would +prevail with Mr. Faringfield; one that he could understand, and could +not fairly oppose. For, hearkee, all the way home, when I looked +forward to the future, the architectural part of it was not in my +head. I was thinking of the famous historic places I should see; the +places where great men have lived; the birthplace and grave of +Shakespeare; the palaces where great pageants and tragedies have been +enacted; the scenes of great battles; the abbey where so many poets +and kings and queens are buried; the Tower where such memorable dramas +have occurred; the castles that have stood since the days of chivalry; +and Oxford; and the green fields of England that poets have written +of, and the churchyard of Gray's Elegy; and all that kind of thing." +</p> + + +<p> +"Ay, and something of the gay life of the present, I'll warrant," said +I, with a smile; "the playhouses, and the taverns, and the parks, and +Vauxhall, and the assembly-rooms; and all <i>that</i> kind of thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes, 'tis true. And I wish you were to go with me." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas, I'm tied down here. Some day, perhaps—" +</p> + +<p> +"What are you two talking of?" The interruption came in a soft, clear, +musical voice, of which the instant effect was to make us both start +up, and turn toward the fence, with hastened hearts and smiling faces. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret stood erect, looking over the palings at us, backed by the +green and flowered bushes through which she and Fanny had moved +noiselessly toward the fence in quest of nosegays for the +supper-table. Fanny stood at her side, and both smiled, Margaret +archly, Fanny pleasantly. The two seemed of one race with the flowers +about them, though Margaret's radiant beauty far outshone the more +modest charms of her brown-eyed younger sister. The elder placed her +gathered flowers on the upper rail of the fence, and taking two roses, +one in each hand, held them out toward us. +</p> + +<p> +We grasped each his rose at the same time, and our motions, as we +touched our lips with them, were so in unison that Margaret laughed. +</p> + +<a name="02"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/02.jpg" alt="OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE SO +IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED." width="352" height="522"> +</p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>"OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE SO +IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED."</small> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p> +"And what <i>were</i> you talking of?" says she. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it a secret any longer?" I asked Philip. +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we were talking of Phil's going to England, to be a great +architect." +</p> + +<p> +"Going to England!" She looked as if she could not have rightly +understood. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said I, "in a year from now, to stay, the Lord knows how long." +</p> + +<p> +She turned white, then red; and had the strangest look. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it true?" she asked, after a moment, turning to Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I am to go next June." +</p> + +<p> +"But father—does he know?" +</p> + +<p> +"I told him this afternoon. He is willing." +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure, to be sure," she said, thoughtfully. "He has no authority +over you. 'Tis different with us. Oh, Phil, if you could only take me +with you!" There was wistful longing and petulant complaint in the +speech. And then, as Phil answered, an idea seemed to come to her all +at once; and she to rise to it by its possibility, rather than to fall +back from its audacity. +</p> + +<p> +"I would gladly," said he; "but your father would never consent that a +Faringfield—" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, one need not always be a Faringfield," she replied, looking him +straight in the face, with a kind of challenge in her voice and eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Why—perhaps not," said Phil, for the mere sake of agreeing, and +utterly at a loss as to her meaning. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't understand," says she. "A father's authority over his +daughter ceases one day." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, no doubt," says Phil; "when she becomes of legal age. But even +then, without her father's consent—" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, now," she interrupted, "suppose her father's authority over her +passed to somebody else; somebody of her father's own preference; +somebody that her father already knew was going to England: could her +father forbid his taking her?" +</p> + +<p> +"But, 'tis impossible," replied mystified Phil. "To whom in the world +would your father pass his authority over you? He is hale and hearty; +there's not the least occasion for a guardian." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, fathers <i>do</i> , you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my soul, I don't see—" +</p> + +<p> +"I vow you don't! You are the blindest fellow! Didn't Polly +Livingstone's father give up his authority over her the other day—to +Mr. Ludlow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, to her husband." +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" +</p> + +<p> +"Margaret—do you mean—? But you can't mean <i>that</i> ?" Phil had not the +voice to say more, emerging so suddenly from the clouds of puzzlement +to the yet uncertain sunshine of joy. +</p> + +<p> +"Why shouldn't I mean that?" says she, with the prettiest laugh, which +made her bold behaviour seem the most natural, feminine act +imaginable. "Am I not good enough for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Madge! You're not joking, are you?" He caught her hands, and gazed +with still dubious rapture at her across the fence. +</p> + +<p> +My sensations may easily be imagined. But by the time she had assured +him she was perfectly in earnest, I had taught myself to act the man; +and so I said, playfully: +</p> + +<p> +"Such a contract, though 'tis made before witnesses, surely ought to +be sealed." +</p> + +<p> +Philip took my hint; and he and Margaret laughed, and stretched arms +across the paling tops; and I lost sight of their faces. I sought +refuge in turning to Fanny, who was nearer to me than they were. To my +surprise, she was watching me with the most kindly, pitying face in +the world. Who would have thought she had known my heart regarding her +sister? +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Bert!" she murmured gently, scarce for my hearing. +</p> + +<p> +And I, who had felt very solitary the moment before, now seemed not +quite so lonely; and I continued to look into the soft, compassionate +eyes of Fanny, so steadily that in a moment, with the sweetest of +blushes, she lowered them to the roses in her hand. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="V"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER V.</p> + + +<p class="chapter"><i>We Hear Startling News, Which Brings about a Family "Scene".</i></p> + + + +<p> +I have characterised Margaret's behaviour in the matter of this +marriage proposal as forward; though I have admitted that it scarce +looked so, so graceful and womanlike was her manner of carrying it +off, which had in it nothing worse than the privileged air of a +spoiled beauty. Now that writing of it has set me thinking of it, I +see that 'twas a more natural act than it appears in the cold recital. +For years she had been our queen, and Phil and I her humble subjects, +and the making of the overtures appeared as proper in her, as it would +have seemed presumption in either of us. And over Phil, from that +bygone day when she had gone across the street to his rescue, she had +assumed an air of authority, nay of proprietorship, that bade him wait +upon her will ere ever he acted or spoke. And, again, though out of +consideration for his rival he had been purposely silent while +awaiting a sign from her, she had read his heart from the first. His +every look and tone for years had been an unconscious act of wooing, +and so when she brought matters to a point as she did, 'twas on her +part not so much an overture as a consent. As for marriage proposal in +general, all men with whom I have discussed it have confessed their +own scenes thereof to have been, in the mere words, quite simple and +unpoetical, whether enacted in confusion or in confidence; and to have +been such as would not read at all finely in books. +</p> + +<p> +The less easy ordeal awaited Philip, of asking her father. But he was +glad this stood yet in his way, and that 'twas not easy; for 'twould +make upon his courage that demand which every man's courage ought to +undergo in such an affair, and which Margaret's conduct had precluded +in his coming to an understanding with her. +</p> + +<p> +But however disquieting the task was to approach, it could be only +successful at the end; for indeed Mr. Faringfield, with all his +external frigidity, could refuse Phil nothing. In giving his consent, +which perhaps he had been ready to do long before Phil had been ready +to ask it, he made no allusion to Phil's going to England. He +purposely ignored the circumstance, I fancy, that in consenting to the +marriage, he knowingly opened the way for his daughter's visiting that +hated country. Doubtless the late conduct of Ned, and the intended +defection of Philip, amicable though that defection was, had shaken +him in his resolution of imposing his avoidance of England upon his +family. He resigned himself to the inevitable; but he grew more +taciturn, sank deeper into himself, became more icy in his manner, +than ever. +</p> + +<p> +Philip and Margaret were married in February, four months before the +time set for their departure. The wedding was solemnised in Trinity +Church, by the Rev. Mr. Barclay, on one of those white days with a +little snow in the air, which I for one prefer over sunny days, in +winter, as far more seasonable. The young gentlemen of the town +wondered that Miss Faringfield had not made a better match (as she +might have done, of course, in each one's secret opinion by choosing +himself). The young ladies, though some of them may have regretted the +subtraction of one eligible youth from their matrimonial chances, were +all of them rejoiced at the removal of a rival who had hitherto kept +the eyes of a score of youths, even more eligible, turned away from +them. And so they wished her well, with smiles the most genuine. She +valued not a finger-snap their thoughts or their congratulations. She +had, of late, imperceptibly moved aloof from them. Nor had she sought +the attentions of the young gentlemen. 'Twas not of her will that they +dangled. In truth she no longer had eyes or ears for the small +fashionable world of New York. She had a vastly greater world to +conquer, and disdained to trouble herself, by a smile or a glance, for +the admiration of the poor little world around her. +</p> + +<p> +All her thoughts in her first months of marriage—and these were very +pleasant months to Philip, so charming and sweet-tempered was his +bride—were of the anticipated residence in England. It was still +settled that Philip was to go in June; and her going with him was now +daily a subject of talk in the family. Mr. Faringfield himself +occasionally mentioned it; indifferently, as if 'twere a thing to +which he never would have objected. Margaret used sometimes to smile, +thinking how her father had put it out of his power to oppose her +wishes: first by his friendly sanction to Phil's going, to refuse +which he had not the right; and then by his consent to her marriage, +to refuse which he had not the will. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally Philip took pleasure in her anticipations, supposing that, +as to their source and object, they differed not from his. As the pair +were so soon to go abroad, 'twas thought unnecessary to set up in a +house of their own in New York, and so they made their home for the +time in the Faringfield mansion, the two large chambers over the great +parlour being allotted to them; while they continued to share the +family table, save that Margaret now had her morning chocolate abed. +</p> + +<p> +"I must initiate myself into London ways, dear," she said, gaily, when +Fanny remarked how strange this new habit was in a girl who had never +been indolent or given to late rising. +</p> + +<p> +"How pretty the blue brocaded satin is!" quoth Fanny, looking at one +of Margaret's new gowns hanging in a closet. "Why didn't you wear it +at the Watts' dinner yesterday? And your brown velvet—you've not had +it on since it came from the dressmaker's." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall wear them in London," says Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +And so it was with her in everything. She saved her finest clothes, +her smiles, her very interest in life, her capacity for enjoyment, all +for London. And Philip, perceiving her indifference to the outside +world, her new equability of temper, her uniform softness of +demeanour, her constant meditative half-smile due to pleasurable +dreams of the future, read all these as tokens of blissful content +like that which glowed in his own heart. And he was supremely happy. +'Tis well for a man to have two months of such happiness, to balance +against later years of sorrow; but sad will that happiness be in the +memory, if it owe itself to the person to whom the sorrow in its train +is due. +</p> + +<p> +She would watch for him at the window, in the afternoon, when he came +home from the warehouse; and would be waiting at the parlour door as +he entered the hall. With his arm about her, he would lead her to a +sofa, and they would sit talking for a few minutes before he prepared +for supper—for 'twas only on great occasions that the Faringfields +dined at five o'clock, as did certain wealthy New York families who +followed the London mode. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so perfectly, entirely, completely, utterly happy!" was the +burden of Phil's low-spoken words. +</p> + +<p> +"Fie!" said Margaret, playfully, one evening. "You must not be +perfectly happy. There must be some cloud in the sky; some annoyance +in business, or such trifle. Perfect happiness is dangerous, mamma +says. It can't last. It forbodes calamity to come. 'Tis an old belief, +and she vows 'tis true." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, my poor mother held that belief, too. I fear she had little +perfect happiness to test it by; but she had calamities enough. And +Bert Russell's mother was saying the same thing the other day. 'Tis a +delusion common to mothers, I think. I sha'n't let it affect my +felicity. I should be ungrateful to call my contentment less than +perfect. And if calamity comes, 'twill not be owing to my happiness." +</p> + +<p> +"As for that, I can't imagine any calamity possible to us—unless +something should occur to hinder us from going to London. But nothing +in the world shall do that, of course." +</p> + +<p> +'Twas upon this conversation that Tom and I broke in, having met as I +returned from the custom-house, he from the college. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" cried Tom, with teasing mirth, "still love-making! I tell you +what it is, brother Phil, 'tis time you two had eyes for something +else besides each other. The town is talking of how engrossed Margaret +is in you, that she ignores the existence of everybody else." +</p> + +<p> +"Let 'em talk," said Margaret, lightly, with an indifference free from +malice. "Who cares about their existence? They're not so interesting, +with their dull teas and stupid gossip of one another! A set of +tedious rustics." +</p> + +<p> +"Hear the countess talk!" Tom rattled on, at the same time looking +affectionate admiration out of his mirthful eyes. "What a high and +mighty lady is yours, my lord Philip! I should like to know what the +Morrises, and Lind Murray, and the Philipse boys and girls, and our De +Lancey cousins, and the rest, would think to hear themselves called a +set of rustics." +</p> + +<p> +"Why," says Phil, "beside her ladyship here, are they <i>not</i> a set of +rustics?" With which he kissed her, and rose to go to his room. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Merci</i> , monsieur!" said Margaret, rising and dropping him a curtsey, +with the prettiest of glances, as he left the parlour. +</p> + +<p> +She hummed a little French air, and went and ran her fingers up and +down the keys of the pianoforte, which great new instrument had +supplanted the old harpsichord in the house. Tom and I, standing at +the fireplace, watched her face as the candle-light fell upon it. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," quoth Tom, "Phil is no prouder of his wife than I am of my +sister. Don't you think she grows handsomer every day, Bert?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis the effect of happiness," said I, and then I looked into the +fireplace rather than at her. For I was then, and had been for long +months, engaged in the struggle of detaching my thoughts from her +charms, or, better, of accustoming myself to look upon them with +composure; and I had made such good success that I wished not to set +myself back in it. Eventually my success was complete, and I came to +feel toward her no more than the friendship of a lifelong comrade. If +a man be honest, and put forth his will, he can quench his love for +the woman that is lost to him, unless there have existed long the +closest, tenderest, purest ties between them; and even then, except +that 'twill revive again sometimes at the touch of an old memory. +</p> + +<p> +"You dear boys!" says Margaret, coming over to us, to reward Tom with +a kiss on the cheek, and me with a smile. "What a vain thing you will +make me of my looks!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," says candid Tom, "that work was done before ever we had the +chance of a hand in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," retorted Margaret, with good-humoured pertness, "there'll +never be reason for me to make my brother vain of his wit." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor for my sister to be vain of hers," said Tom, not in nettled +retaliation, but merely as uttering a truth. +</p> + +<p> +"You compliment me there," says Margaret, lightly. "Did you ever hear +of a witty woman that was charming?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is true," I put in, remembering some talk of Phil's, based upon +reading as well as upon observation, "for usually a woman must be +ugly, before she will take the trouble to cultivate wit. The +possession of wit in a woman seems to imply a lack of other reliances. +And if a woman be pretty and witty both, her arrogance is like to be +such as drives every man away. And men resent wit in a woman as if +'twere an invasion of their own province." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure your explanation must be true, Mr. Philosopher," said Margaret, +"'tis so profound. As for me, I seek no reasons; 'tis enough to know +that most witty women are frights; and I don't blame the men for +refusing to be charmed by 'em." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sis," said Tom, "I'm sure even the cultivation of wit wouldn't +make you a fright. So you might amuse yourself by trying it, ma'am. As +for charming the men, you married ladies have no more to do with +that." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, haven't we? Sure, I think 'tis time little boys were in bed, who +talk of things they know nothing about. Isn't that so, Bert?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said I, "for my part, I think 'tis unkind for a woman to +exercise her charms upon men after she has destroyed the possibility +of rewarding their devotion." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me, you talk like a character in a novel. Well, then, you're +both agreed I mustn't be charming. So I'll be disagreeable, and begin +with you two. Here's a book of sermons Mr. Cornelius must have left. +That will help me, if anything will." And she sat down with the volume +in her hands, took on a solemn frown, and began to read to herself. +After awhile, at a giggle of amusement from schoolboy Tom, she turned +a rebuking gaze upon us, over the top of the book; but the very effort +to be severe emphasised the fact that her countenance was formed to +give only pleasure, and our looks brought back the smile to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis no use," said Tom, "you couldn't help being charming if you +tried." +</p> + +<p> +She threw down the book, and came and put her arm around him, and so +we all three stood before the fire till Philip returned. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," she said, "here is one who will never ask me to be ugly or +unpleasant." +</p> + +<p> +"Who has been asking impossibilities, my dear?" inquired Philip, +taking her offered hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +"These wise gentlemen think I oughtn't to be charming, now that I'm +married." +</p> + +<p> +"Then they think you oughtn't to be yourself; and I disagree with 'em +entirely." +</p> + +<p> +She gave him her other hand also, and stood for a short while looking +into his innocent, fond eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You dear old Phil!" she said slowly, in a low voice, falling for the +moment into a tender gravity, and her eyes having a more than wonted +softness. The next instant, recovering her light playfulness with a +little laugh, she took his arm and led the way to the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +And now came Spring—the Spring of 1775. There had been, of course, +for years past, and increasing daily in recent months, talk of the +disagreement between the king and the colonies. I have purposely +deferred mention of this subject, to the time when it was to fall upon +us in its full force so that no one could ignore it or avoid action +with regard to it. But I now reach the beginning of the drama which is +the matter of this history, and to which all I have written is +uneventful prologue. We young people of the Faringfield house (for I +was still as much of that house as of my own) had concerned ourselves +little with the news from London and Boston, of the concentration of +British troops in the latter town in consequence of the increased +disaffection upon the closing of its port. We heeded little the fact +that the colonies meant to convene another general congress at +Philadelphia, or that certain colonial assemblies had done thus and +so, and certain local committees decided upon this or that. 'Twould +all blow over, of course, as the Stamp Act trouble had done; the +seditious class in Boston would soon be overawed, and the king would +then concede, of his gracious will, what the malcontents had failed to +obtain by their violent demands. Such a thing as actual rebellion, +real war, was to us simply inconceivable. I believe now that Philip +had earlier and deeper thoughts on the subject than I had: indeed +events showed that he must have had: but he kept them to himself. And +far other and lighter subjects occupied our minds as he and I started +for a walk out the Bowery lane one balmy Sunday morning in April, the +twenty-third day of the month. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, Fanny, and Tom, had gone to church. Philip +and I boasted of too much philosophical reading to be churchgoers, and +I had let my mother walk off to Trinity with a neighbour. As for +Margaret, she stayed home because she was now her own mistress and had +a novel to read, out of the last parcel received from London. We left +her on the rear veranda, amidst the honeysuckle vines that climbed the +trellis-work. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been counting the weeks," she said to Phil, as we were about to +set forth. "Only seven more Sundays." And she stopped him to adjust +the ribbon of his queue more to her taste. "Aren't you glad?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; and a thousand times so because it makes you happy, my dear," +said he. +</p> + +<p> +She kissed him, and let him go. "Don't walk too far, dear!" she called +after us. +</p> + +<p> +We looked back from the gateway, and saw that she had come to the end +of the veranda to see us from the garden. We doffed our hats, and Phil +threw her a kiss; which she returned, and then waved her hand after +us, softly smiling. Philip lingered a moment, smiling back, to get +this last view of her ere he closed the gate. +</p> + +<p> +We had just passed the common, at the Northern end of the town, when +we heard a clatter of galloping hoofs in the Bowery lane before us. +Looking up the vista of road shaded by trees in fresh leafage, we saw +a rider coming toward us at a very severe pace. As he approached, the +horse stumbled; and the man on its back, fearing it might sink from +exhaustion, drew up and gave it a moment in which to recover itself. +He evidently wished to make a decent entrance into the town. He was in +a great panting and perspiration, like his trembling steed, which was +covered with foam; and his clothes were disturbed and soiled with +travel. He took off his cocked felt hat to fan himself. +</p> + +<p> +"You ride fast, for Sunday, friend," said Phil pleasantly. "Any +trouble?" +</p> + +<p> +"Trouble for some folks, I guess," was the reply, spoken with a Yankee +drawl and twang. "I'm bringing news from Massachusetts." He slapped +the great pocket of his plain coat, calling attention to its +well-filled condition as with square papers. "Letters from the +Committee of Safety." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, has anything happened at Boston?" asked Phil, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, no, not just at Boston. But out Concord way, and at Lexington, +and on the road back to Boston, I should reckon a few things <i>had</i> +happened." And then, leaving off his exasperating drawl, he very +speedily related the terrible occurrence of the nineteenth of +April—terrible because 'twas warlike bloodshed in a peaceful land, +between the king's soldiers and the king's subjects, between men of +the same race and speech, men of the same mother country; and because +of what was to follow in its train. I remember how easily and soon the +tale was told; how clearly the man's calm voice, though scarce raised +above a usual speaking tone, stood out against the Sunday morning +stillness, with no sound else but the twittering of birds in the trees +near by. +</p> + +<p> +"Get up!" said the messenger, not waiting for our thanks or comments; +and so galloped into the town, leaving us to stare after him and then +at each other. +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith, this will make the colonies stand together," said Philip at +last. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," said I, "against the rebellious party." +</p> + +<p> +"No," quoth he, "when I say the colonies, I mean what you call the +rebellious party in them." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, 'tis not the majority, and therefore it can't be said to +represent the colonies." +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon—I think we shall find it is the majority, +particularly outside of the large towns. This news will fly to every +corner of the land as fast as horses can carry it, and put the country +folk in readiness for whatever the Continental Congress may decide +upon." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, then, 'twill put our people on their guard, too, for whatever +the rebels may attempt." +</p> + +<p> +Philip's answer to this brought about some dispute as to whether the +name rebels, in its ordinary sense, could properly be applied to those +colonists who had what he termed grievances. We both showed heat, I +the more, until he, rather than quarrel, fell into silence. We had +turned back into the town; choosing a roundabout way for home, that we +might observe the effect of the messenger's news upon the citizens. In +a few streets the narrow footways were thronged with people in their +churchgoing clothes, and many of these had already gathered into +startled groups, where the rider who came in such un-Sabbath-like +haste had stopped to justify himself, and satisfy the curiosity of +observers, and ask the whereabouts of certain gentlemen of the +provincial assembly, to whom he had letters. We heard details +repeated, and opinions uttered guardedly, and grave concern everywhere +expressed. +</p> + +<p> +By the time we had reached home, Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield were already +there, discussing the news with my mother, in the presence of the two +daughters and Tom. We found them all in the parlour. Margaret stood in +the library doorway, still holding her novel in her hand, her finger +keeping the page. Her face showed but a languid interest in the +tragedy which made all the others look so grave. +</p> + +<p> +"You've heard the news, of course?" said Mr. Faringfield to us as we +entered, curiously searching Philip's face while he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; we were the first in the town to hear it, I think," replied +Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"Tis a miracle if we do not have war," said Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +"I pray not," says my mother, who was a little less terrified than +Mrs. Faringfield. "And I won't believe we shall, till I see it at our +doors." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't speak of it!" cried Mrs. Faringfield, with a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, ladies," says Philip, "'tis best to think of it as if 'twere +surely coming, and so accustom the mind to endure its horrors. I shall +teach my wife to do so." And he looked playfully over at Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what is it to me?" said Margaret. "Tis not like to come before +we sail, and in England we shall be well out of it. Sure you don't +think the rebels will cross the ocean and attack London?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, if war comes," said Phil, quietly, "we shall have to postpone +our sailing." +</p> + +<p> +"Postpone it!" she cried, in alarm. "Why? And how long?" +</p> + +<p> +"Until the matter is settled one way or another." +</p> + +<p> +"But it won't come before we sail. 'Tis only seven weeks. Whatever +happens, they'll riddle away that much time first, in talk and +preparation; they always do." +</p> + +<p> +"But we must wait, my dear, till the question is decided whether +there's to be war or peace. If we come round to the certainty of +peace, which is doubtful, then of course there's naught to hinder us. +But if there's war, why, we've no choice but to see it out before we +leave the country." +</p> + +<p> +I never elsewhere saw such utter, indignant consternation as came over +Margaret's face. +</p> + +<p> +"But why? For what reason?" she cried. "Will not vessels sail, as +usual? Are you afraid we shall be harmed on the sea? 'Tis ridiculous! +The rebels have no war-ships. Why need we stay? What have we to do +with these troubles? 'Tis not our business to put them down. The king +has soldiers enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," said Phil, surprised at her vehemence, but speaking the more +quietly for that, "'tis the colonies will need soldiers." +</p> + +<p> +"Then what folly are you talking? Why should we stay for this war." +</p> + +<p> +"That I may take my part in it, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +"Bravo, brother Phil!" cried Tom Faringfield. "You nor I sha'n't miss +a chance to fight for the king!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I, either," I added. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis not for the king, that I shall be fighting," said Phil, simply. +</p> + +<p> +A silence of astonishment fell on the company. 'Twas broken by Mr. +Faringfield: +</p> + +<p> +"Bravo, Phil, say <i>I</i> this time." And, losing no jot of his haughty +manner, he went over, and with one hand grasping Phil's, laid the +other approvingly on the young man's shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"What, have we rebels in our own family?" cried Mrs. Faringfield, +whose horror at the fact gave her of a sudden the needful courage. +</p> + +<p> +"Madam, do your sentiments differ from mine?" asked her husband. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir, I am a De Lancey!" she replied, with a chilling haughtiness +almost equal to his own. +</p> + +<p> +Tom, buoyed by his feelings of loyalty above the fear of his father's +displeasure, crossed to his mother, and kissed her; and even Fanny had +the spirit to show defiantly on which side she stood, by nestling to +her mother's side and caressing her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Good, mamma!" cried Margaret. "No one shall make rebels of us! +Understand that, Mr. Philip Winwood!" +</p> + +<p> +Philip, though an ashen hue about the lips showed what was passing in +his heart, tried to take the bitterness from the situation by treating +it playfully. "You see, Mr. Faringfield, if we are indeed rebels +against our king, we are paid by our wives turning rebels against +ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot make a joke of it, sir," said Margaret, with a menacing +coldness in her tone. "'Tis little need the king has of <i>my</i> +influence, I fancy; he has armies to fight his battles. But there's +one thing does concern me, and that is my visit to London.—But you'll +not deprive me of that, dear, will you, now that you think of it +better?" Her voice had softened as she turned to pleading. +</p> + +<p> +"We must wait, my dear, while there is uncertainty or war." +</p> + +<p> +"But you haven't the right to make me wait!" she cried, her voice +warming to mingled rage, reproach, and threat. "Why, wars last for +years—I should be an old woman! You're not free to deny me this +pleasure, or postpone it an hour! You promised it from the first, you +encouraged my anticipations until I came to live upon them, you fed my +hopes till they dropped everything else in the world. Night and day I +have looked forward to it, thought of it, dreamt of it! And now you +say I must wait—months, at least; probably years! But you can't mean +it, Phil! You wouldn't be so cruel! Tell me!" +</p> + +<p> +"I mean no cruelty, dear. But one has no choice when patriotism +dictates—when one's country—" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you sha'n't treat me so, disappoint me so! 'Twould be breaking +your word; 'twould be a cruel betrayal, no less; 'twould make all your +conduct since our marriage—nay, since that very day we promised +marriage—a deception, a treachery, a lie; winning a woman's hand and +keeping her love, upon a false pretence! You <i>dare</i> not turn back on +your word now! If you are a man of honour, of truth, of common +honesty, you will let this miserable war go hang, and take me to +England, as you promised! And if you don't I'll hate you!—hate you!" +</p> + +<p> +Her speech had come out in a torrent of increasing force, until her +voice was almost a scream, and this violence had its climax in a +hysterical outburst of weeping, as she sank upon a chair and hid her +face upon the back thereof. In this attitude she remained, her body +shaking with sobs. +</p> + +<p> +Philip, moved as a man rarely is, hastened to her, and leaning over, +essayed to take her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"But you should understand, dear," said he, most tenderly, with what +voice he could command. "God knows I would do anything to make you +happy, but—" +</p> + +<p> +"Then," she said tearfully, resigning her hand to his, "don't bring +this disappointment upon me. Let them make war, if they please; you +have your wife to consider, and your own future. Whatever they fight +about, 'tis nothing to you, compared with your duty to me." +</p> + +<p> +"But you don't understand," was all he could reply. "If I could +explain—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Phil, dear," she said, adopting again a tender, supplicating +tone. "You'll not rob me of what I've so joyously looked forward to, +will you? Think, how I've set my heart on it! Why, we've looked +forward to it together, haven't we? All our happiness has been bound +up with our anticipations. Don't speak of understanding or +explaining,—only remember that our first thought should be of each +other's happiness, dear, and that you will ruin mine if you don't take +me. For my sake, for my love, promise we shall go to England in June! +I beg you—'tis the one favour—I will love you so! Do, Phil! We shall +be so happy!" +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him with such an eager pleading through her tears +that I did not wonder to see his own eyes moisten. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear," said he, with an unsteady voice, "I can't. I shouldn't be a +man if I left the country at this time. I should loathe myself; I +should not be worthy of you." +</p> + +<p> +She flung his hand away from her, and rose in another seizure of +wrath. +</p> + +<p> +"Worthy!" she cried. "What man is worthy of a woman, when he cheats +her as you have cheated me! You are a fool, with your talk of loathing +yourself if you left the country! In God's name, what could there be +in that to make you loathe yourself? What claim has the country on +you, equal to the claim your wife has? Better loathe yourself for your +false treatment of her! You'd loathe yourself, indeed! Well, then, I +tell you this, 'tis I that will loathe you, if you stay! I shall +abominate you, I shall not let you come into my sight! Now, sir, take +your choice, this instant. Keep your promise with me—" +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas not exactly a promise, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +"I say, keep it, and take me to London, and keep my love and respect; +or break your promise, and my heart, and take my hate and contempt. +Choose, I say! Which? This instant! Speak!" +</p> + +<p> +"Madge, dear, you are not yourself—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but I am, though! More myself than ever! And my own mistress, +too! Speak, I bid you! Tell me we shall go. Answer—will you do as +your wife wishes?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will do as your husband ought." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you go to England?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will stay till I know the fate of the colonies; and to fight for +them if need be." +</p> + +<p> +"You give me up, for the sake of a whim, of some silly fustian about +patriotism, some fool's rubbish of high-sounding words! <i>Me</i> , you +balance against a crazy notion! Very well, sir! How I shall hate you +for it! Don't come near me—not a step! Cling to your notion; see if +it will fill my place! From this moment, you're not my husband, I'm +not your wife—unless you promise we shall sail in June! And don't +dare speak to me, except to tell me that!" +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon, paying no heed to his reproachful cry of "Madge," she swept +past him, and across the parlour, and up the hall staircase to her +room; leaving us all in the amazement which had held us motionless and +silent throughout the scene. +</p> + +<p> +Philip stood with his hand upon the chair-back where she had wept; +pale and silent, the picture of abandonment and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="VI"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VI. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"><i>Ned Comes Back, with an Interesting Tale of a Fortunate Irishman.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Before any of us knew what to say, a soft tread in the library +announced the approach of Mr. Cornelius. He entered unaware of the +scene that had just terminated, and with the stormy character of which +on Margaret's part, nothing could have been in greater contrast than +the quiescent atmosphere that ever accompanied the shy, low-speaking +pedagogue. His presence diffused peace and quietude; and more than +formerly was this the case of late, since he had resumed an intention +of entering the Presbyterian ministry. +</p> + +<p> +He had qualified himself for this profession at Princeton. But after +his full preparations, a conscientious scruple had arisen from a sense +of his diffidence, which he despaired of conquering, and by which he +believed his attempts at pulpit eloquence were sure to be defeated. +Though he could compass the hardihood to discourse to an assemblage of +distracting schoolboys several hours every week-day, he could not +summon the courage to address an audience of somnolent adults two +hours on Sunday. +</p> + +<p> +But latterly he had awakened to a new inward call, and resolved upon a +new trial of his powers. By way of preliminary training, he had set +about practising upon the sailors and wharfmen who ordinarily spent +their Sundays in gaming or boozing in low taverns along the +water-front. To as many of these as would gather in some open space, +at the sound of his voice raised tremulously in a hymn, he would +preach as a layman, thus borrowing from the Methodists a device by +which he hoped not only his present hearers, but also his own future +Presbyterian congregations, should benefit. It was from one of these +informal meetings, broken up by the news from Massachusetts, that he +was but now returned. +</p> + +<p> +The stupefaction in which we all sat, did not prevent our noting the +excitement in which Cornelius came; and Mr. Faringfield looked a mute +inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"Your pardon, friends," said the pedagogue to the company; and then to +Mr. Faringfield: "If I might speak with you alone a moment, sir—" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield went with him into the library, leaving us all under +new apprehension. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear bless me!" quoth Mrs. Faringfield, looking distressed. "More +calamity, I vow." +</p> + +<p> +In a moment we heard Mr. Faringfield's voice raised in a vehement "No, +sir!" Then the library door was reopened, and he returned to us, +followed by Cornelius, who was saying in his mildest voice: "But I +protest, sir—I entreat—he is a changed man, I assure you." +</p> + +<p> +"Changed for the worse, I make no doubt," returned the angry merchant. +"Let him not darken my door. If it weren't Sunday, I should send for a +constable this moment." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" cried Mrs. Faringfield. "Sure it can't be—that boy +again!" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Edward, madam," said the tutor. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear, dear, what a day! What a terrible day! And Sunday, too!" moaned +the lady, lying back in her chair, completely crushed, as if the last +blow of fate had fallen. +</p> + +<p> +"He arrived in the <i>Sarah</i> brig, which anchored yesterday evening," +explained Mr. Cornelius, "but he didn't come ashore till this +morning." +</p> + +<p> +"He thought Sunday safer," said Mr. Faringfield, with scornful +derision. +</p> + +<p> +"I was returning from my service, when I met him," continued the +tutor. "He was at the Faringfield wharf, inquiring after the health of +the family, of Meadows the watchman. I—er—persuaded him to come home +with me." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean, sir, he persuaded you to come and intercede for him," said +Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +"He is now waiting in the garden. I have been telling Mr. Faringfield, +ma'am, that the young man is greatly altered. Upon my word, he shows +the truest signs of penitence. I believe he is entirely reformed; he +says so." +</p> + +<p> +"You'd best let him come in, William," counselled Mrs. Faringfield. +"If you don't, goodness knows what he may do." +</p> + +<p> +"Madam, I resolved long ago to let the law do its utmost upon him, if +he should ever return." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but think what scandal! What will all my relations say? Besides, +if he is reformed—" +</p> + +<p> +"If he is reformed, let him show it by his conduct on my refusing to +take him back; and by suffering the penalty of his crime." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!—penalty! Don't speak such words! A jailbird in the family! I +never could endure it! I shouldn't dare go to church, or be seen +anywhere in public!" +</p> + +<p> +"The same old discussion!" said Mr. Faringfield, with a wearied frown. +</p> + +<p> +"Papa, you won't send him to jail, will you?" ventured Fanny, with +eyes rapidly moistening, and lips turning to a pout in spite of +herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, sir," put in Cornelius, trembling at his own temerity, "if +you could but see him—take my word, sir, if ever there was a case +where forgiveness—" +</p> + +<p> +After much more of this sort of talk, and being shaken in will by the +day's previous excitements, Mr. Faringfield at length gave in so far +as to consent to an interview with the penitent, to whom thereupon +Cornelius hastened with the news. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a changed and chastened Ned, to all outward appearance, +that entered meekly with the pedagogue a few minutes later. His tread +was so soft, his demeanour so tame, that one would scarce have known +him but for a second look at his shapely face and burly figure. The +face was now somewhat hollowed out, darkened, lined, and blotched; and +elongated with meek resignation. His clothes—claret-coloured cloth +coat and breeches, flowered waistcoat, silk stockings, lace ruffles, +and all—were shabby and stained. He bowed to the company, and then +stood, furtively watching for some manifestation from the rest before +he dared proceed to warmer greetings. +</p> + +<p> +Fanny stepped softly forward and kissed him, in a shy, perfunctory +manner; and then good-natured Tom shook his hand, and Philip followed +suit; after which Mrs. Faringfield embraced him somewhat stiffly, and +I gingerly held his fingers a moment, and my mother hoped he found +himself well. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite well, I thank you, considering," said he; and then gazed in a +half-scared way at his father. All the old defiance had disappeared +under the blows of adversity. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," said his father, coldly, "we had scarce looked for you +back among us." +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," said Ned, still standing. "I had no right to be looked for, +sir—no more than the prodigal son had. I'm a bit like him, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't count upon the fatted calf, however." +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir; not me. Very plain fare will do for me. I—I ask your +pardon, sir, for that—that business about Mr. Palmer." +</p> + +<p> +"The world has put you into a humble mood," said Mr. Faringfield, with +sarcastic indifference. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; the way of transgressors is hard, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you sit down?" put in Mrs. Faringfield, who was made +uncomfortable by the sight of others being so. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, mother," said Ned, availing himself of the implied +permission. +</p> + +<p> +"I hear you've undergone a reformation," said his father. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so, sir. They tell me I've got religion." +</p> + +<p> +"Who tells you?" +</p> + +<p> +"The Methodists. I went to their meetings in London. I—I thought I +needed a little of that kind of thing. That's how I happened to—to +save my soul." +</p> + +<p> +"And how do you conceive you will provide for your body?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know yet—exactly. If I might stay here till I could find +some employment—" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield met the pleading look of Fanny, and the prudent one of +his wife. The latter reflected, as plainly as words, what had +manifestly entered his own mind: that immunity from future trouble on +Ned's account might indeed be had without recourse to a step entailing +public disgrace upon the family. So he said: +</p> + +<p> +"My intention was, if you should ever show your face in New York +again, to see you punished for that matter of the money and Mr. +Palmer. I don't give up that intention; I shall only postpone carrying +it out, during your good behaviour." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir; I dare say it's better than I deserve." +</p> + +<p> +And so was Mr. Ned established home again, to be provided for by his +father until he should obtain some means of self-support. In this task +his father offered no assistance, being cautious against vouching for +a person hitherto so untrustworthy; and it soon became evident that +Ned was not very vigorously prosecuting the task himself. He had the +excuse that it was a bad time for the purpose, the country being so +unsettled in the expectation of continued war. And he was content to +remain an idle charge upon his father's bounty, a somewhat neglected +inmate of the house, his comings and goings not watched or inquired +into. His father rarely had a word for him but of curt and formal +greeting. His mother found little more to say to him, and that in a +shy reserved manner. Margaret gave him no speeches, but sometimes a +look of careless derision and contempt, which must have caused him +often to grind his teeth behind his mask of humility. Philip's +courtesy to him was distinctly chilly; while Tom treated him rather +with the indifferent amiability of a new and not very close +acquaintance, than with any revival of old brotherly familiarity. I +shared Phil's doubts upon Ned's spiritual regeneration, and many +people in the town were equally skeptical. But there were enough of +those credulous folk that delight in the miraculous, who believed +fully in this marvellous conversion, and never tired of discussing the +wonder. And so Ned went about, posing as a brand snatched from the +burning, to the amusement of one-half the town, the admiration of the +other half, and the curiosity of both. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis all fudge, says I," quoth lean old Bill Meadows, the watchman at +the Faringfield wharves. "His story and his face don't hitch. He +declares he was convarted by the Methodies, and he talks their talk +about salvation and redemption and the like. But if he really had +religion their way, he'd wear the face o' joy and gladness. Whereas he +goes about looking as sober as a covenanter that expected the day of +judgment to-morrow and knew he was predestinated for one O' the goats. +Methodie convarts don't wear Presbyterian faces. Ecod, sir" (this he +said to Phil, with whom he was on terms of confidence), "he's got it +in his head that religion and a glum face goes together; and he +thereby gives the lie to his Methodie convarsion." +</p> + +<p> +Ned was at first in rather sore straits for a companion, none of his +old associates taking well to his reformation. He had to fall back +upon poor Cornelius, who was always the most obliging of men and could +never refuse his company or aught else to any tolerable person that +sought it. But in a week or so Ned had won back Fanny to her old +allegiance, and she, in the kindness of her heart, and in her pity +that the poor repentant fellow should be so misunderstood, his +amendment so doubted, gave him as much of her time as he asked for. +She walked with him, rode with him, and boated with him. This was all +greatly to my cost and annoyance; for, ever since she had so gently +commiserated my loss of Margaret, I had learned more and more to value +her sweet consolation, rely upon her sympathy in all matters, and find +serenity and happiness in her society. It had come to be that two were +company, three were none—particularly when the third was Ned. So, if +she <i>would</i> go about with him, I left her to go with him alone; and I +suffered, and pined, and raged inwardly, in consequence. 'Twas this +deprivation that taught me how necessary she was to me; and how her +presence gave my days half their brightness, my nights half their +beauty, my taste of everything in life half its sweetness. Philip was +unreservedly welcome to Madge now; I wondered I had been so late in +discovering the charms of Fanny. +</p> + +<p> +But one day I noticed that a coolness had arisen between her and Ned; +a scarce evident repulsion on her part, a cessation of interest on +his. This was, I must confess, as greatly to my satisfaction as to my +curiosity. But Fanny was no more a talebearer than if she had been of +our sex; and Ned was little like to disclose the cause intentionally: +so I did not learn it until by inference from a passage that occurred +one night at the King's Arms' Tavern. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Philip, avoided and ignored by Madge, who had not yet relented, +was taking an evening stroll with me, in the soothing company of the +pedagogue; when we were hailed by Ned with an invitation to a mug of +ale in the tavern. Struck with the man's apparent wistfulness for +company, and moved by a fellow feeling of forlornness, Philip +accepted; and Cornelius, always acquiescent, had not the ill grace to +refuse. So the four of us sat down together at a table. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I might offer you madeira, gentlemen; or punch, at least," +said Ned regretfully, "but you know how it is. I'm reaping what I +sowed. Things might be worse. I knew 'em worse in London—before I +turned over a new leaf." +</p> + +<p> +The mugs being emptied, and the rest of us playing host in turn, they +were several times replenished. Ned had been drinking before he met +us; but this was not apparent until he began to show the effect of his +potations while the heads of us his companions were still perfectly +clear. It was evident that he had not allowed his conversion to wean +him from this kind of indulgence. The conversation reverted to his +time of destitution in London. +</p> + +<p> +"Such experiences," observed Cornelius, "have their good fruits. They +incline men to repentance who might else continue in their evil ways +all their lives." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; that's the truth!" cried Ned. "If I'd had some people's +luck—but it's better to be saved than to make a fortune—although, to +be sure, there are fellows, rascals, too, that the Lord seems to take +far better care of than he does of his own!" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cornelius looked a little startled at this. But the truth was, I +make no doubt, that the pretence of virtue, adopted for the purpose of +regaining the comforts of his father's house, wore heavily upon Ned; +that he chafed terribly under it sometimes; and that this was one of +the hours when, his wits and tongue loosened by drink, he became +reckless and allowed himself relief. He knew that Philip, Cornelius, +and I, never tattled. And so he cast the muzzle of sham reformation +from his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +He was silent for a while, recollections of past experience rising +vividly in his mind, as they will when a man comes to a certain stage +of drink. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure, luck is an idiot," he burst out presently, wrathful from his +memories. "It reminds me of a fool of a wench that passes over a +gentleman and flings herself at a lout. For, lookye, there was two of +us in London, a rascal Irishman and me, that lived in the same +lodgings. We did that to save cost, after we'd both had dogs' fortune +at the cards and the faro-table. If it hadn't been for a good-natured +woman or two—I spoke ill of the breed just now, but they have their +merits—we'd have had no lodgings at all then, except the Fleet, +maybe, or Newgate, if it had come to that. Well, as I was saying, we +were both as near starvation as ever <i>I</i> wish to be, the Irishman and +me. There we were, poverty-stricken as rats, both tarred with the same +stick, no difference between us except he was an ugly brute, and a +scoundrel, and a man of no family. Now if either of us deserved good +fortune, it certainly was me; there can't be any question of that. And +yet, here I am, driven to the damnedest tedious time of it for bare +food and shelter, and compelled to drink ale when I'm—oh, curse it, +gentlemen, was ever such rotten luck?" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelius, whom disillusion had stricken into speechlessness at this +revelation of the old Ned under the masquerade, sighed heavily and +looked pained. But Philip, always curious upon matters of human +experience, asked: +</p> + +<p> +"What of the Irishman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Driving in his chariot, the dog! Swaggering in Pall Mall; eating and +drinking at taverns that it makes my mouth water to think of; laying +his hundred guineas a throw, if he likes. Oh, the devil! The fat of +London for that fellow; and me cast off here in New York to the most +hellish dull life! 'Tisn't a fair dispensation; upon my soul it +isn't!" +</p> + +<p> +"And what made him so fortunate?" inquired Philip. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, that's the worst of it! What good are a man's relations? What +good are mine, at least? For that knave had only one relation, but she +was of some use, Lord knows! When it came to the worst with him, he +walked to Bristol, and begged or stole passage to Ireland, and hunted +up his sister, who had a few pounds a year of her own. He had thought +of borrowing a guinea or two, to try his fortune with again. But when +he saw his sister, he found she'd grown up into a beauty—no more of a +beauty than my sisters, though; but she was a girl of enterprise and +spirit. I don't say Madge isn't that; but she's married and done for. +But Fanny—well, I don't see anything brilliant in store for Fanny." +</p> + +<p> +"What has she to do with the affairs of your Irishman?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nothing. She's a different kind from this Irish lady. For what +did that girl do, after her brother had seen her and got the idea, +than pack up and come to London with him. And he showed her around so +well, and her fine looks made such an impression, that within three +months he had her married to a lord's son—the heir to Lord Ilverton's +estates and title. And now she's a made woman, and he's a made man, +and what do you think of that for a lucky brother and a clever sister? +And yet, compared with Fanny—" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to say," interrupted Philip, in a low voice, "that you +have ever thought of Fanny as a partner in such a plan?" +</p> + +<p> +"Little use to think of her," replied Ned, contemptuously. "She hasn't +the spirit. I'm afraid there ain't many sisters like Mullaney's. Poor +Fan wouldn't even listen—" +</p> + +<p> +"Did you dare propose it to her?" said Phil. My own feelings were too +strong for speech. +</p> + +<p> +"Dare!" repeated Ned. "Why not? 'Twould have made her fortune—" +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my word," put in Mr. Cornelius, no longer able to contain his +opinions, "I never heard of such rascality!" +</p> + +<p> +Something in the pedagogue's tone, I suppose, or in Ned's stage of +tipsiness at the moment, gave the speech an inflammatory effect. Ned +stared a moment at the speaker, in amazement. Then he said, with +aroused insolence: +</p> + +<p> +"What's this, Mr. Parson? What have <i>you</i> to say here? My sister is +<i>my</i> sister, let me tell you—" +</p> + +<p> +"If she knew you as well as I do now," retorted Cornelius, quietly, +"she wouldn't boast of the relationship." +</p> + +<p> +"What the devil!" cried Ned, in an elevated voice, thus drawing the +attention of the four or five other people in the room. "Who is this, +talks of relationships? You cursed parson-pedagogue—!" +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet, Ned," warned Philip. "Everybody hears you." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care," replied Ned, rising, and again addressing Cornelius. +"Does anybody boast of relationships to you, you tow-headed bumpkin? +Do you think you can call me to account, as you can the scum you +preach to on the wharves? I'll teach you!" +</p> + +<p> +Whereat, Cornelius being opposite him, Ned violently pushed forward +the table so as to carry the tutor over backward in his chair. His +head and back struck the floor heavily, and he lay supine beneath the +upset table. +</p> + +<p> +An excited crowd instantly surrounded our group. Philip and I +immediately removed the table, and helped Cornelius to his feet. The +pedagogue's face was afire; his fists were clenched; his chest +swelled; and one could judge from his wrists what sturdy arms his +sleeves encased. As he advanced upon Ned, he was all at once become so +formidable a figure that no one thought to interpose. Ned himself, +appalled at the approaching embodiment of anger and strength, +retreated a foot or two from the expected blow. Everybody looked to +see him stretched flat in a moment; when Cornelius suddenly stopped, +relaxed his muscles, unclosed his fists, and said to his insulter, in +a quiet but virile voice quite different from that of his usual +speech: +</p> + +<p> +"By the grace of God, I put my hands behind my back; for I've spoiled +handsomer faces than yours, Edward Faringfield!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's pause. +</p> + +<p> +"The grace of God has no such effect upon me!" said I, rapping Ned +over the mouth with the back of my hand. Before the matter could go +any further, Philip caught my arm, and Cornelius's, and hurried us out +of the tavern. +</p> + +<p> +I now knew what had broken the friendship between Fanny and her +worthless brother. I feared a catastrophe when Mr. Faringfield should +learn of the occurrence at the tavern. But, thanks to the silence of +us who were concerned, and to the character of the few gentlemen with +whom he deigned to converse, it never came to his ears. Ned, restored +to his senses, and fearing for his maintenance, made no attempt to +retaliate my blow; and resumed his weary pretence of reformation. But +years afterward we were to recall his story of the Irishman's sister. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="VII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Enemies in War.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +As this is not a history of the wars I shall not dwell upon the talk +and preparations that went on during the weeks ensuing upon our +eventful Sunday: which talk was common to both parties, but which +preparations were mainly on the part of the rebels, we loyalists +awaiting events and biding the return from England of Governor Tryon. +There were looks of suspicion exchanged, and among the more violent +and uncouth there were open boasts bandied, open taunts reciprocated, +and open threats hurled back and forth. Most of the quality of the +town were on the loyal side; but yet there were some excellent +families—such as the Livingstones—who stood first and last among the +so-called Whigs. This was the case in great part of the country, the +wealth and culture, with distinguished exceptions, being for the king +and parliament; though, I must own, a great quantity of the brains +being on the other side: but in Virginia and her Southerly neighbours, +strange to say, the aristocracy largely, though not entirely, leaned +toward revolt; for what reason I never knew, unless it was that many +of them, descended from younger sons of good English stock who had +been exiled as black sheep or ne'er-do-wells, inherited feelings +similar to Mr. Faringfield's. Or perhaps 'twas indeed a pride, which +made them resentful of the superiority assumed by native Englishmen +over them as colonists. Or they may have felt that they should +actually become slaves in submitting to be taxed by a parliament in +which they were not represented. In any case, they (like Philip +Winwood and Mr. Faringfield, the Adamses of Boston, and thousands of +others) had motives that outweighed in them the sentiment of loyalty, +the passion of attachment to the land whence we had drawn our race and +still drew our culture and all our refinements and graces. This +sentiment, and this passion, made it impossible for Tom Faringfield +and me to see any other course for us than undeviating fidelity to the +king and the mother-country. There were of course some loyalists (or +Tories, if you prefer that name) who took higher views than arose from +their mere affections, and who saw harm for America in any revolt from +English government; and there were others, doubtless, whose motives +were entirely low and selfish, such as holders of office under the +crown, and men who had powers and privileges of which any change of +system, any disturbance of the royal authority, might deprive them. It +was Philip who called my attention to this last class, and to the +effect its existence must have on the common people in the crisis then +present. +</p> + +<p> +"The colonists of America are not like any other people," said he. +"Their fathers came to this land when it was a savage wilderness, +tearing themselves from their homes, from civil surroundings; that +they might be far from tyranny, in small forms as well as great. Not +merely tyranny of king or church, but the shapes of it that Hamlet +speaks of—'the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the +insolence of office.' All for the sake of liberty, they battled with +savages and with nature, fought and toiled, bled and starved. And +Tyranny ignored them till they had transformed their land and +themselves into something worth its attention. And then, backed and +sustained by royal authority, those hated things stole in upon +them—'the insolence of office, the proud man's contumely, the +oppressor's wrong.' This, lookye, besides the particular matter of +taxation without representation; of being bid to obey laws they have +no hand in making; of having a set of masters, three thousand miles +away, and not one of their own land or their own choosing, order them +to do thus and so:—why, 'twere the very soul and essence of slavery +to submit! Man, how can you wonder I am of their side?" +</p> + +<p> +"And with your taste for the things to be found only in the monarchies +of Europe; for the arts, and the monuments of past history, the places +hallowed by great events and great men!" said I, quoting remembered +expressions of his own. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," says he, smiling a little regretfully, "we shall have our own +arts and hallowed places some day; meanwhile one's taste must defer to +one's heart and one's intelligence." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said I, with malicious derision, "when 'tis so great a question +as a paltry tax upon tea." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis no such thing," says he, warming up; "'tis a question of being +taxed one iota, the thousandth part of a farthing, by a body of +strangers, a body in which we are not represented." +</p> + +<p> +"Neither were we represented in it when it sent armies to protect us +from the French, and toward the cost of which 'tis right we should +pay." +</p> + +<p> +"We paid, in men and money both. And the armies were sent less for our +protection than for the aggrandisement of England. She was fighting +the French the world over; in America, as elsewhere, the only +difference being that in America we helped her." +</p> + +<p> +So 'twas disputed between many another pair of friends, between +brothers, between fathers and sons, husbands and wives. I do not know +of another civil war that made as many breaks in families. Meanwhile, +the local authorities—those of local election, not of royal +appointment—were yet outwardly noncommittal. When Colonel Washington, +the general-in-chief appointed by the congress of the colonies at +Philadelphia, was to pass through New York on his way to Cambridge, +where the New England rebels were surrounding the king's troops in +Boston, it was known that Governor Tryon would arrive from England +about the same time. Our authorities, rather than seem to favour one +side, sent a committee to New Jersey to meet the rebel commander and +escort him through the town, and immediately thereafter paid a similar +attention to the royal governor. One of those who had what they +considered the honour of riding behind Mr. Washington a part of his +way (he came accompanied by a troop of horse from Philadelphia, and +made a fine, commanding figure, I grant) was Philip Winwood. When he +returned from Kingsbridge, I, pretending I had not gone out of my way +to see the rebel generalissimo pass, met him with a smile, as if to +make a joke of all the rebel preparations: +</p> + +<p> +"Well," says I, "what manner of hero is your illustrious chief? A very +Julius Cæsar, I make no doubt." +</p> + +<p> +"A grave and modest gentleman," says Phil, "and worthy of all the +admiration you used to have for him when we would talk of the French +War. I remember you would say he was equal to all the regular English +officers together; and how you declared Governor Shirley was a fool +for not giving him a king's commission." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said I, "'tis a thousand to one, that if Colonel Washington +hadn't been disappointed of a king's commission, he wouldn't now be +leader of the king's enemies." I knew I had no warrant the slightest +for attributing Mr. Washington's patriotism to such a petty motive as +a long-cherished resentment of royal neglect; and years afterward, in +London, I was to chastise an equally reckless speaker for a similar +slander; but I was young and partisan, and being nettled by the +reminder of my inconsistency, spoke to irritate. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a lie!" said Phil, quietly, looking me straight in the face. +</p> + +<p> +Such a word from Philip made me stare in amazement; but it did not +improve my temper, or incline me to acknowledge the injustice I had +uttered. My face burned, my fingers clenched. But it was Philip that +had spoken; and a thing or two flashed into my mind in the pause; and, +controlling myself, I let out a long breath, opened my fists, and, +with the best intentions in the world, and with the quietest voice, +gave him a blow far more severe than a blow of the fist had been. +</p> + +<p> +"I will take that from you, Phil," said I: "God knows, your stand in +this rebellion has caused you enough unhappiness." +</p> + +<p> +He winced, and sent me a startled look, stung at my alluding to the +estrangement of his wife. I know not whether he took it as a taunt +from so dear a friend, or whether the mere mention of so delicate a +sorrow was too much for him; but his face twitched, and he gave a +swallow, and was hard put to it to hold back the tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me," I said, stricken to the heart at sight of this. "I am +your friend always, Phil." I put a hand upon his shoulder, and his +face turned to a kindly expression of pardon, a little short of the +smile he dared not yet trust himself to attempt. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret's demeanour to him, indeed, had not shown the smallest +softening. But to the rest of the world, after the immediate effects +of that Sunday scene had worn off, she seemed vastly more sparkling +and fascinating than ever before: whether she was really so, and of +intention, or whether the appearance was from contrast with her +treatment of Philip, I dare not say. But the impression was Philip's, +I think, as well as every one's else; and infinitely it multiplied the +sorrow of which he would not speak, but which his countenance could +not conceal. When the news of the affair at Bunker's Hill was +discussed at the supper-table one evening in June, I being present, +and Margaret heard how bravely the British charged the third and +successful time up to the rebel works, after being hurled back twice +by a very hell of musketry, she dropped her fork, and clapped her +hands, crying: +</p> + +<p> +"Bravo, bravo! 'Tis such men that grow in England. I could love every +one of 'em!" +</p> + +<p> +"Brave men, I allow," said Philip; "but as for their victory, 'twas +but a technical one, if accounts be true. Their loss was greater than +ours; and the fight proved that Americans can stand before British +regulars." +</p> + +<p> +Margaret paid no more notice than if Philip had not spoken—'twas her +practice now to ignore his speeches not directed to herself alone—and +when he had done, she said, blithely, to one of the young De Lanceys, +who was a guest: +</p> + +<p> +"And so they drove the Yankees out! And what then, cousin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that was all. But as for the men that grow in England, you'll +find some of us grown in America quite as ready to fight for the king, +if matters go on. Only wait till Governor Tryon sets about calling for +loyal regiments. We shall be falling over one another in the scramble +to volunteer. But I mean to be first." +</p> + +<p> +"Good, cousin!" she cried. "You may kiss my hand for that—nay, my +cheek, if I could reach it to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Faith," said De Lancey, after gallantly touching her fingers with his +lips, "if all the ladies in New York had such hands, and offered 'em +to be kissed by each recruit for the king, there'd be no man left to +fight on the rebel side." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, his Majesty is welcome to my two hands for the purpose, and my +face, too," she rattled on. "But some of our New York rebels were +going to do great things: 'tis two months now, and yet we see nothing +of their doings." +</p> + +<p> +"Have a little patience, madam," said Philip, very quietly. "We rebels +may be further advanced in our arrangements than is known in all +quarters." +</p> + +<p> +The truth of this was soon evident. In the open spaces of the +town—the parade-ground (or Bowling Green) outside the fort; the +common at the head of the town; before the very barracks in Chambers +Street that had just been vacated by the last of the royal troops in +New York, they having sailed for Boston rather for their own safety +than to swell the army there—there was continual instructing and +drilling of awkward Whigs. Organisation had proceeded throughout the +province, whose entire rebel force was commanded by Mr. Philip +Schuyler, of Albany; subordinate to whom was Mr. Richard Montgomery, +an Irish gentleman who had first set foot in America at Louisbourg, as +a king's officer, and who now resided beyond Kingsbridge. +</p> + +<p> +It was under Montgomery that Philip Winwood took service, enlisting as +a private soldier, but soon revealing such knowledge of military +matters that he was speedily, in the off-hand manner characteristic of +improvised armies, made a lieutenant. This was a little strange, +seeing that there was a mighty scramble for commissions, nine out of +every ten patriots, however raw, clamouring to be officers; and it +shows that sometimes (though 'tis not often) modest merit will win as +well as self-assertive incompetence. Philip had obtained his +acquaintance with military forms from books; he was, in his ability to +assimilate the matter of a book, an exception among men; and a still +greater exception in his ability to apply that matter practically. +Indeed, it sometimes seemed that he could get out of a book not only +all that was in it, but more than was in it. Many will not believe +what I have related of him, that he had actually learned the rudiments +of fencing, the soldier's manual of arms, the routine of camp and +march, and such things, from reading; but it is a fact: just as it is +true that Greene, the best general of the rebels after Washington, +learned military law, routine, tactics, and strategy, from books he +read at the fire of the forge where he worked as blacksmith; and that +the men whom he led to Cambridge, from Rhode Island, were the best +disciplined, equipped, uniformed, and maintained, of the whole Yankee +army at that time. As for Philip's gift of translating printed matter +into actuality, I remember how, when we afterward came to visit +strange cities together, he would find his way about without a +question, like an old resident, through having merely read +descriptions of the places. +</p> + +<p> +But rank did not come unsought, or otherwise, to Philip's fellow +volunteer from the Faringfield house, Mr. Cornelius. The pedagogue, +with little to say on the subject, took the rebel side as a matter of +course, Presbyterians being, it seems, republican in their nature. He +went as a private in the same company with Philip. +</p> + +<p> +It was planned that the rebel troops of New York province should +invade Canada by way of Lake George, while the army under Washington +continued the siege of Boston. Philip went through the form of +arranging that his wife should remain at her father's house—the only +suitable home for her, indeed—during his absence in the field; and +so, in the Summer of 1775, upon a day much like that in which he had +first come to us twelve years before, it was ours to wish him for a +time farewell. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield and his lady, with Fanny and Tom, stood in the hall, +and my mother and I had joined them there, when Philip came +down-stairs in his new blue regimentals. He wore his sword, but it was +not his wife that had buckled it on. There had been no change in her +manner toward him: he was still to her but as a strange guest in the +house, rather to be disdained than treated with the courtesy due even +to a strange guest. We all asked ourselves what her farewell would be, +but none mentioned the thought. As Phil came into view at the first +landing, he sent a quick glance among us to see if she was there. For +a moment his face was struck into a sadly forlorn expression; but, as +if by chance, she came out of the larger parlour at that moment, and +his countenance revived almost into hope. The rest of us had already +said our good-byes to Mr. Cornelius, who now stood waiting for Philip. +As the latter reached the foot of the stairs, Margaret suddenly turned +to the pedagogue, to add her civility to ours, for she had always +liked the bashful fellow, and <i>his</i> joining the rebels was to her a +matter of indifference—it did not in any way affect her own pleasure. +This movement on her part made it natural that Philip's first +leave-taking should be of Mr. Faringfield, who, seeing Margaret +occupied, went forward and grasped Phil's hand. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless thee, lad," said he, showing the depth of his feelings as +much by a tenderness very odd in so cold a man, as by reverting to the +old pronoun now becoming obsolete except with Quakers, "and bring thee +safe out of it all, and make thy cause victorious!" +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Philip," said Mrs. Faringfield, with some betrayal of +affection, "and heaven bring you back to us!" +</p> + +<p> +Fanny's farewell, though spoken with a voice more tremulous and eyes +more humid, was in the same strain; and so was that of my mother, +though she could not refrain from adding, "Tis such a pity!" and +wishing that so handsome a soldier was on the right side. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye and good luck, dear old Phil!" was all that Tom said. +</p> + +<p> +"And so say I," I put in, taking his hand in my turn, and trying not +to show my discomposure, "meaning to yourself, but not to your cause. +Well—dear lad—heaven guard you, and give you a speedy return! For +your sake and ours, may the whole thing be over before your campaign +is begun. I should like to see a war, and be in one—but not a war +like this, that makes enemies of you and me. Good-bye, Phil—and come +back safe and sound." +</p> + +<p> +'Twas Margaret's time now, for Ned was not present. There was a pause, +as Phil turned questioningly—nay wistfully—toward her. She met his +look calmly. Old Noah and some of the negroes, who had pressed forward +to see Phil's departure from the house, were waiting for her to speak, +that they might afterward call out their Godspeed. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye!" she said, at last, holding out her hand indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +He took the hand, bent over it, pressed it with his lips. Then he +looked at her again. I think she must have shown just the slightest +yielding, given just the least permission, in her eyes; for he went +nearer, and putting his arm around her, gently drew her close to him, +and looked down at her. Suddenly she turned her face up, and pursed +her lips. With a look of gladness, he passionately kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, my dear wife," he whispered; and then, as if by +expecting more he might court a disappointment to mar the memory of +that leave-taking, he released her, and said to us all: "Take care of +her, I pray!" whereupon, abruptly turning, he hastened out of the open +door, waving back his hat in response to our chorus of good-byes, and +the loud "Go' bless you, Massa Philip!" of the negroes. +</p> + +<p> +We followed quickly to the porch, to look after him. But he strode off +so fast that Cornelius had to run to keep up with him. He did not once +look back, even when he passed out of sight at the street corner. I +believe he divined that his wife would not be among those looking +after, and that he wished not to interpose any other last impression +of his dear home than that of her kiss. +</p> + +<p> +When we came back into the hall, she had flown. Later, as my mother +and I went through the garden homeward, passing beneath Margaret's +open windows, we heard her weeping—not violently, but steadily, +monotonously, as if she had a long season of the past to regret, a +long portion of the future to sorrow for. And here let me say that I +think Margaret, from first to last, loved Philip with more tenderness +than she was capable of bestowing upon any one else; with an affection +so deep that sometimes it might be obscured by counter feelings +playing over the surface of her heart, so deep that often she might +not be conscious of its presence, but so deep that it might never be +uprooted:—and 'twas that which made things the more pitiful. +</p> + +<p> +Tom and I went out, with a large number of the town's people, to watch +the rebel soldiers depart, and we saw Philip with his company, and +exchanged with him a smile and a wave of the hat. How little we +thought that one of us he was never to meet again, that the other he +was not to see in many years, and that four of those years were to +pass ere he should set foot again in Queen Street. +</p> + +<p> +Many things, to be swiftly passed over in my history, occurred in +those four years. One of these, the most important to me, happened a +short time after Philip's departure for the North. It was a brief +conversation with Fanny, and it took place upon the wayside walk at +what they call the Battery, at the green Southern end of the town, +where it is brought to a rounded point by the North and East Rivers +approaching each other as they flow into the bay. To face the gentle +breeze, I stopped and turned so we might look Southward over the bay, +toward where, at the distant Narrows, Long Island and Staten Island +seem to meet and close it in. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like to look out yonder," said Fanny. "It makes me imagine +I'm away on the ocean, by myself. And it seems so lonely." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you poor child," replied I, "'tis a sin you should ever feel +lonely; you do so much to prevent others being so." I turned my back +upon the bay, and led her past the fort, toward the Broadway. "You +see," said I, abruptly, glancing at her brown eyes, which dropped in a +charming confusion, "how much you need a comrade." I remember I was +not entirely unconfused myself at that moment, for inspiration had +suddenly shown me my opportunity, and how to use it, and some inward +trepidation was inseparable from a plunge into the matter I was now +resolved upon going through. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," says she, blushing, and seeming, as she walked, to take a great +interest in her pretty feet, "I have several comrades as it is." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But I mean one that should devote himself to you alone. Philip +has Margaret; and besides, he is gone now, and so is Mr. Cornelius. +And Tom will be finding a wife some day, and your parents cannot live +for ever, and your friends will be married one after another." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor me!" says she, with a sigh of comic wofulness. "How helpless and +alone you make me feel!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not so entirely alone, neither! There's one I didn't mention." +</p> + +<p> +"And that one, too, I suppose, will be running off some day." +</p> + +<p> +"No. He, like Tom, will be seeking a wife some day; perhaps sooner +than Tom; perhaps very soon indeed; perhaps this very minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Bert!—What nonsense! Don't look at me so, here in the +street—people will take notice." +</p> + +<p> +"What do I care for people? Let the fellows all see, and envy me, if +you'll give me what I ask. What say you, dearest? Speak; tell me! Nay, +if you won't, I'll make you blush all the more—I love you, I love +you, I love you! Now will you speak?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Bert, dear, at least wait till we are home!" +</p> + +<p> +"If you'll promise to say yes then." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well—if 'twill please you." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, it must be to please yourself too. You do love me a little, +don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course I do; and you must have known it all the time!" +</p> + +<p> +But, alas, her father's "yes" was not so easily to be won. I broached +the matter to him that very evening (Fanny and I meanwhile having come +to a fuller understanding in the seclusion of the garden); but he +shook his head, and regarded me coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," said he. "For, however much you are to be esteemed as a +young gentleman of honour and candour and fine promise, 'tis for me to +consider you rather as an adherent of a government that has persecuted +my country, and now makes war upon it. The day may come when you will +find a more congenial home nearer the crown you have already expressed +your desire to fight for. And then, if Fanny were your wife, you would +carry her off to make an Englishwoman of her, as my first daughter +would have been carried by her husband, upon different motives, but +for this war. Perhaps 'twere better she could have gone," he added, +with a sigh, for Margaret had been his favourite child; "my loss of +her could scarce have been more complete than it is. But 'tis not so +with Fanny." +</p> + +<p> +"But, sir, I am not to take it that you refuse me, definitely, +finally?—I beg—" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, sir, I only say that we must wait. Let us see what time shall +bring to pass. I believe that you will not—and I am sure that Fanny +will not—endeavour any act without my consent, or against my wish. +Nay, I don't bid you despair, neither. Time shall determine." +</p> + +<p> +I was not so confident that I would not endeavour any act without his +consent; but I shared his certainty that Fanny would not. And so, in +despondency, I took the news to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," says she, with a sigh. "We must wait, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +While we were waiting, and during the Fall and Winter, we heard now +and then from Philip, for communication was still possible between New +York and the rebel army proceeding toward Canada. He wrote Margaret +letters of which the rest of us never saw the contents; but he wrote +to Mr. Faringfield and me also. His history during this time was that +of his army, of which we got occasional news from other sources. +During part of September and all of October it was besieging St. +John's, which capitulated early in November. Schuyler's ill-health had +left the supreme active command to Montgomery. The army pushed on, and +occupied Montreal, though it failed to capture Governor Carleton; who +escaped to Quebec in a boat, by ingeniously disguising himself as a +countryman. At Montreal the jealousies and quarrels of officers, so +summarily created such, gave Montgomery much trouble, and when he set +forward for Quebec, there to join the force sent under Arnold through +the Maine wilderness from the rebel main army at Cambridge, he could +take with him but three hundred men—so had the patriot warriors of +New York fallen off in zeal and numbers! But you may be sure it was +not from Philip's letters that we got these items disadvantageous to +his cause. +</p> + +<p> +Our last word from him was when he was in quarters before Quebec: +Cornelius was with him; and they were having a cold and snowy time of +it, waiting for Quebec to fall before them. He mentioned casually that +he had been raised to a captaincy: we afterward learned that this was +for brave conduct upon the occasion of a sally of Scotch troops from +one of the gates of Quebec to cut off a mortar battery and a body of +riflemen; Philip had not only saved the battery and the riflemen, but +had made prisoners of the sallying party. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the Winter—that is to say, early in 1776—we learned of the +dire failure of the night attack made by the combined forces of +Montgomery and Arnold upon Quebec at the end of December, 1775; that +Arnold had been wounded, his best officers taken prisoners, and +Montgomery killed. The first reports said nothing of Winwood. When +Margaret heard the news, she turned white as a sheet; and at this +triumph of British arms my joy was far outweighed, Mr. Faringfield's +grief multiplied, by fears lest Philip, who we knew would shirk no +danger, had met a fate similar to his commander's. But subsequent news +told us that he was a prisoner, though severely wounded. We comforted +ourselves with considering that he was like to receive good nursing +from the French nuns of Quebec. And eventually we found the name of +Captain Winwood in a list of rebel prisoners who were to be exchanged; +from which, as a long time had passed, we inferred that he was now +recovered of his injuries; whereupon Margaret, who had never spoken of +him, or shown her solicitude other than by an occasional dispirited +self-abstraction, regained all her gaiety and was soon her old, +charming self again. In due course, we learned that the exchange of +prisoners had been effected, and that a number of officers (among whom +was Captain Winwood) had departed from Quebec, bound whither we were +not informed; and after that we lost track of him for many and many a +month. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the war had made itself manifest in New York: at first +distantly, as by the passage of a few rebel companies from +Pennsylvania and Virginia through the town on their way to Cambridge; +by continued enlistments for the rebel cause; by the presence of a +small rebel force of occupation; and by quiet enrolments of us +loyalists for service when our time should come. But in the beginning +of the warm weather of 1776, the war became apparent in its own shape. +The king's troops under Sir William Howe had at last evacuated Boston +and sailed to Halifax, taking with them a host of loyalists, whose +flight was held up to us New York Tories as prophetic of our own fate. +Washington now supposed, rightly, that General Howe intended presently +to occupy New York; and so down upon our town, and the island on which +it was, and upon Long Island, came the rebel main army from Cambridge; +and brought some very bad manners with it, for all that there never +was a finer gentleman in the world than was at its head, and that I am +bound to own some of his officers and men to have been worthy of him +in good breeding. Here the army was reinforced by regiments from the +middle and Southern provinces; and for awhile we loyalists kept close +mouths. Margaret, indeed, for the time, ceased altogether to be a +loyalist, in consequence of the gallantry of certain officers in blue +and buff, and several Virginia dragoons in blue and red, with whom she +was brought into acquaintance through her father's attachment to the +rebel interest. She expanded and grew brilliant in the sunshine of +admiration (she had even a smile and compliment from Washington +himself, at a ball in honour of the rebel declaration of independence) +in which she lived during the time when New York abounded with rebel +troops. +</p> + +<p> +But that was a short time; for the British disembarked upon Long +Island, met Washington's army there and defeated it, so that it had to +slip back to New York in boats by night; then landed above the town, +almost in time to cut it off as it fled Northward; fought part of it +on the heights of Harlem; kept upon its heels in Westchester County; +encountered it again near White Plains; and came back triumphant to +winter in and about New York. And now we loyalists and the rebel +sympathisers exchanged tunes; and Margaret was as much for the king +again as ever—she never cared two pins for either cause, I fancy, +save as it might, for the time being, serve her desire to shine. +</p> + +<p> +She was radiant and joyous, and made no attempt to disguise her +feelings, when it was a settled fact that the British army should +occupy New York indefinitely. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis glorious!" said she, dancing up and down the parlour before Tom +and me. "This will be some relief from dulness, some consolation! The +town will be full of gallant generals and colonels, handsome majors, +dashing captains; there are lords and baronets among 'em; they'll be +quartered in all the good houses; there will be fine uniforms, +regimental bands, and balls and banquets! Why, I can quite endure +this! War has its compensations. We'll have a merry winter of it, +young gentlemen! Sure 'twill be like a glimpse of London." +</p> + +<p> +"And there'll be much opportunity for vain ladies to have their heads +turned!" quoth Tom, half in jest, half in disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing of that," says she, "but I do know whose sister will +be the toast of the British Army before a month is past!" +</p> + +<p> +If the king's troops acquired a toast upon entering New York, the +rebels had gained a volunteer upon leaving it. One day, just before +Washington's army fled, Tom Faringfield came to me with a face all +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +"Who do you think is the latest patriot recruit?" cried he. It was our +custom to give the rebels ironically their own denomination of +patriots. +</p> + +<p> +"Not you nor I, at any rate," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"But one of the family, nevertheless." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, surely—your father has not—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no; only my father's eldest." +</p> + +<p> +"Ned?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nobody else. Fancy Ned taking the losing side! Oh, 'fore God, it's +true! He came home in a kind of uniform to-day, and told father what +he had done; the two had a long talk together in private after that; +and though father never shows his thoughts, I believe he really has +some hopes of Ned now. The rebels made a lieutenant of him, on +father's account. I wonder what his game is." +</p> + +<p> +"I make no doubt, to curry favour with his father." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe. But perhaps to get an excuse for leaving town, and a way of +doing so. I've heard some talk—they say poor Sally Roberts's +condition is his work." +</p> + +<p> +"Very like. Your brother is a terrible Adonis—with ladies of a +certain kind." +</p> + +<p> +"Not such an Adonis neither—at least the Adonis that Venus courted in +Shakespeare's poem. Rather a Jove, I should say." +</p> + +<p> +We did not then suspect the depth of Mr. Ned's contrivance or +duplicity. He left New York with the rebels, and 'twas some time ere +we saw, or heard of, him again. +</p> + +<p> +And now at last several loyalist brigades were formed as auxiliaries +to the royal army, and Tom and I were soon happy in the consciousness +of serving our king, and in the possession of the green uniforms that +distinguished the local from the regular force. We were of Colonel +Cruger's battalion, of General Oliver De Lancey's brigade, and both +were so fortunate as to obtain commissions, Tom receiving that of +lieutenant, doubtless by reason of his mother's relationship to +General De Lancey, and I being made an ensign, on account of the +excellent memory in which my father was held by the loyal party. Mr. +Faringfield, like many another father in similar circumstances, was +outwardly passive upon his son's taking service against his own cause: +as a prudent man, he had doubtless seen from the first the advantage +of having a son actually under arms for the king, for it gave him and +his property such safety under the British occupation as even his +lady's loyalist affiliations might not have sufficed to do. Therefore +Tom, as a loyalist officer, was no less at home than formerly, in the +house of his rebel father. I know not how many such family situations +were brought about by this strange war. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="VIII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VIII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>I Meet an Old Friend in the Dark.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +I shall not give an account of my military service, since it entered +little into the history of Philip Winwood. 'Twas our duty to help man +the outposts that guarded the island at whose Southern extremity New +York lies, from rebel attack; especially from the harassments of the +partisan troops, and irregular Whiggery, who would swoop down in +raiding parties, cut off our foragers, drive back our wood-cutters, +and annoy us in a thousand ways. We had such raiders of our own, too, +notably Captain James De Lancey's Westchester Light Horse, Simcoe's +Rangers, and the Hessian yagers, who repaid the visits of our enemies +by swift forays across the neutral ground between the two armies. +</p> + +<p> +But this warfare did not exist in its fulness till later, when the +American army formed about us an immense segment of a circle, which +began in New Jersey, ran across Westchester County in New York +province, and passed through a corner of Connecticut to Long Island +Sound. On our side, we occupied Staten Island, part of the New Jersey +shore, our own island, lower Westchester County, and that portion of +Long Island nearest New York. But meanwhile, the rebel main army was +in New Jersey in the Winter of 1776-77, surprising some of our +Hessians at Trenton, overcoming a British force at Princeton, and +going into quarters at Morristown. And in the next year, Sir William +Howe having sailed to take Philadelphia with most of the king's +regulars (leaving General Clinton to hold New York with some royal +troops and us loyalists), the fighting was around the rebel capital, +which the British, after two victories, held during the Winter of +1777-78, while Washington camped at Valley Forge. +</p> + +<p> +In the Fall of 1777, we thought we might have news of Winwood, for in +the Northern rebel army to which General Burgoyne then capitulated, +there were not only many New York troops, but moreover several of the +officers taken at Quebec, who had been exchanged when Philip had. But +of him we heard nothing, and from him it was not likely that we should +hear. Margaret never mentioned him now, and seemed to have forgotten +that she possessed a husband. Her interest was mainly in the British +officers still left in New York, and her impatience was for the return +of the larger number that had gone to Philadelphia. To this impatience +an end was put in the Summer of 1778, when the main army marched back +to us across New Jersey, followed part way by the rebels, and fighting +with them at Monmouth Court House. 'Twas upon this that the lines I +have mentioned, of British outposts protecting New York, and rebel +forces surrounding us on all sides but that of the sea, were +established in their most complete shape; and that the reciprocal +forays became most frequent. +</p> + +<p> +And now, too, the British occupation of New York assumed its greatest +proportions. The kinds of festivity in which Margaret so brilliantly +shone, lent to the town the continual gaiety in which she so keenly +delighted. The loyalist families exerted themselves to protect the +king's officers from dulness, and the king's officers, in their own +endeavours to the same end, helped perforce to banish dulness from the +lives of their entertainers. 'Twas a gay town, indeed, for some folk, +despite the vast ugly blotches wrought upon its surface by two great +fires since the war had come, and despite the scarcity of provisions +and the other inconveniences of a virtual state of siege. Tom and I +saw much of that gaiety, for indeed at that time our duties were not +as active as we wished they might be, and they left us leisure enough +to spend in the town. But we were pale candles to the European +officers—the rattling, swearing, insolent English, the tall and +haughty Scots, the courtly Hessians and Brunswickers. +</p> + +<p> +"What, sister, have we grown invisible, Bert and I?" said Tom to +Margaret, as we met her in the hall one night, after we had returned +from a ball in the Assembly Rooms. "Three times we bowed to you this +evening, and got never a glance in return." +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith," says she, with a smile, "one can't see these green uniforms +for the scarlet ones!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," he retorted, with less good-humour than she had shown, "the +scarlet coats blind some people's eyes, I think, to other things than +green uniforms." +</p> + +<p> +It was, I fancy, because Tom had from childhood adored her so much, +that he now took her conduct so ill, and showed upon occasion a +bitterness that he never manifested over any other subject. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean, you saucy boy?" cried she, turning red, and looking +mighty handsome. "You might take a lesson or two in manners from some +of the scarlet coats!" +</p> + +<p> +"Egad, they wouldn't find time to give me lessons, being so busy with +you! But which of your teachers do you recommend—Captain Andre, Lord +Rawdon, Colonel Campbell, or the two Germans whose names I can't +pronounce? By George, you won't be happy till you have Sir Henry +Clinton and General Knyphausen disputing for the front place at your +feet!" +</p> + +<a name="03"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/03.jpg" alt="SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY." width="345" height="504"></p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY.</small> +</p> +<p> </p> + +<p> +She softened from anger to a little laugh of conscious triumph, tapped +him with her fan, and sped up the stairs. Her prediction had come +true. She was indeed the toast of the army. Her mother apparently saw +no scandal in this, being blinded by her own partiality to the royal +side. Her father knew it not, for he rarely attended the British +festivities, from which he could not in reason debar his wife and +daughters. Fanny was too innocent to see harm in what her sister did. +But Tom and I, though we never spoke of it to each other, were made +sensitive, by our friendship for Philip, to the impropriety of the +situation—that the wife of an absent American officer should reign as +a beauty among his military enemies. I make no doubt but the +circumstance was commented upon, with satirical smiles at the expense +of both husband and wife, by the British officers themselves. Indeed I +once heard her name mentioned, not as Mrs. Winwood, but as "Captain +Winwood's wife," with an expression of voice that made me burn to +plant my fist in the leering face of the fellow who spoke—some +low-born dog, I'll warrant, who had paid high for his commission. +</p> + +<p> +It was a custom of Tom's and mine to put ourselves, when off duty +together, in the way of more active service than properly fell to us, +by taking horse and riding to the eastern side of the Harlem River, +where was quartered the troop of Tom's relation, James De Lancey. In +more than one of the wild forays of these horsemen, did we take an +unauthorised part, and find it a very exhilarating business. +</p> + +<p> +One cold December afternoon in 1778, we got private word from Captain +De Lancey that he was for a raid up the Albany road, that night, in +retaliation for a recent severe onslaught made upon our Hessian post +near Colonel Van Cortlandt's mansion, either ('twas thought) by Lee's +Virginia Light Horse or by the partisan troop under the French +nobleman known in the rebel service as Armand. +</p> + +<p> +At nightfall we were on the gallop with De Lancey's men, striking the +sparks from the stony road under a cloudy sky. But these troops, +accustomed to darkness and familiar with the country, found the night +not too black for their purpose, which was, first, the seizing of some +cattle that two or three Whig farmers had contrived to retain +possession of, and, second, the surprising of a small advanced post +designed to protect rebel foragers. The first object was fairly well +accomplished, and a detail of men assigned to conduct the prizes back +to Kingsbridge forthwith, a difficult task for which those upon whom +it fell cursed their luck, or their commander's orders, under their +breath. One of the farmers, for stubbornly resisting, was left tied to +a tree before his swiftly dismantled house, and only Captain De +Lancey's fear of alarming the rebel outpost prevented the burning down +of the poor fellow's barn. +</p> + +<p> +The taking of these cattle had necessitated our leaving the highway. +To this we now returned, and proceeded Northward to where the road +crosses the Neperan River, near the Philipse manor-house. Instead of +crossing this stream, we turned to the right, to follow its left bank +some way upward, and then ascended the hill East of it, on which the +rebel post was established. Our course, soon after leaving the road, +lay through woods, the margin of the little river affording us only +sufficient clear space for proceeding in single file. De Lancey rode +at the head, then went two of his men, then Tom Faringfield and +myself, the troop stringing out behind us, the lieutenant being at the +rear. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas slow and toilsome riding; and only the devil's own luck, or some +marvellous instinct of our horses, spared us many a stumble over +roots, stones, twigs, and underbrush. What faint light the night +retained for well-accustomed eyes, had its source in the +cloud-curtained moon, and that being South of us, we were hidden in +the shadow of the woods. But 'tis a thousand wonders the noise of our +passage was not sooner heard, though De Lancey's stern command for +silence left no sound possible from us except that of our horses and +equipments. I fancy 'twas the loud murmur of the stream that shielded +us. But at last, as we approached the turning of the water, where we +were to dismount, surround the rebels hutted upon the hill before us, +creep silently upon them, and attack from all sides at a signal, there +was a voice drawled out of the darkness ahead of us the challenge: +</p> + +<p> +"Who goes thar?" +</p> + +<p> +We heard the click of the sentinel's musket-lock; whereupon Captain De +Lancey, in hope of gaining the time to seize him ere he could give the +alarm, replied, "Friends," and kept riding on. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a liar, Jim De Lancey!" cried back the sentinel, and fired his +piece, and then (as our ears told us) fled through the woods, up the +hill, toward his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +There was now nothing for us but to abandon all thought of surrounding +the enemy, or even, we told ourselves, of taking time to dismount and +bestow our horses; unless we were willing to lose the advantage of a +surprise at least partial, as we were not. We could but charge on +horseback up the hill, after the fleeing sentinel, in hope of coming +upon the rebels but half-prepared. Or rather, as we then felt, so we +chose to think, foolish as the opinion was. Indeed what could have +been more foolish, less military, more like a tale of fabulous knights +in some enchanted forest? A cavalry charge, with no sort of regular +formation, up a wooded hill, in a night dark enough in the open but +sheer black under the thick boughs; to meet an encamped enemy at the +top! But James De Lancey's men were noted rather for reckless dash +than for military prudence; they felt best on horseback, and would +accept a score of ill chances and fight in the saddle, rather than a +dozen advantages and go afoot. I think they were not displeased at +their discovery by the sentinel, which gave them an excuse for a +harebrained onset ahorse, in place of the tedious manoeuvre afoot that +had been planned. As for Tom and me, we were at the age when a man +will dare the impossible. +</p> + +<p> +So we went, trusting to the sense of our beasts, or to dumb luck, to +carry us unimpeded through the black woods. As it was, a few of the +animals ran headforemost against trees, and others stumbled over roots +and logs, while some of the riders had their heads knocked nearly off +by coming in contact with low branches. But a majority of us, to judge +by the noise we made, arrived with our snorting, panting steeds at the +hill-crest; where, in a cleared space, and fortified with felled +trees, upheaved earth, forage carts, and what not, stood the +improvised cabins of the rebels. +</p> + +<p> +Three or four shots greeted us as we emerged from the thick wood. We, +being armed with muskets and pistols as well as swords, returned the +fire, and spurred our horses on toward the low breastwork, which, as +it was not likely to have anything of a trench behind it, we thought +to overleap either on horse or afoot. But the fire that we met, almost +at the very barrier, felled so many of our horses and men, raised such +a hellish chorus of wild neighing, cries of pain and wrath, ferocious +curses and shouts of vengeance, that the men behind reined up +uncertain. De Lancey turned upon his horse, waved his sword, and +shouted for the laggards to come on. We had only the light of musketry +to see by. Tom Faringfield was unhorsed and down; and fearing he might +be wounded, I leaped to the ground, knelt, and partly raised him. He +was unharmed, however; and we both got upon our feet, with our swords +out, our discharged muskets slung round upon our backs, our intent +being to mount over the rebel's rude rampart—for we had got an +impression of De Lancey's sword pointed that way while he fiercely +called upon his troops to disregard the fallen, and each man charge +for himself in any manner possible, ahorse or afoot. +</p> + +<p> +But more and more of the awakened rebels—we could make out only their +dark figures—sprang forward from their huts (mere roofs, 'twere +better to call these) to the breastwork, each waiting to take careful +aim at our mixed-up mass of men and horses before he fired into it. As +Tom and I were extricating ourselves from the mass by scrambling over +a groaning man or two, and a shrieking, kicking horse that lay on its +side, De Lancey rode back to enforce his commands upon the men at our +rear, some of whom were firing over our heads. His turning was +mistaken for a movement of retreat, not only by our men, of whom the +unhurt promptly made to hasten down the hill, but also by the enemy, a +few of whom now leaped from behind their defence to pursue. +</p> + +<p> +Tom and I, not yet sensible of the action of our comrades, were +striding forward to mount the rampart, when this sally of rebels +occurred. Though it appalled us at the time, coming so unexpectedly, +it was the saving of us; for it stopped the fire of the rebels +remaining behind the barrier, lest they should hit their comrades. A +ringing voice, more potent than a bugle, now called upon these latter +to come back, in a tone showing their movement to have been without +orders. They speedily obeyed; all save one, a tall, broad +fellow—nothing but a great black figure in the night, to our +sight—who had rushed with a clubbed musket straight upon Tom and me. +A vague sense of it circling through the air, rather than distinct +sight of it, told me that his musket-butt was aimed at Tom's head. +Instinctively I flung up my sword to ward off the blow; and though of +course I could not stop its descent, I so disturbed its direction that +it struck only Tom's shoulder; none the less sending him to the ground +with a groan. With a curse, I swung my sword—a cut-and-thrust +blade-of-all-work, so to speak—with some wild idea of slicing off a +part of the rebel's head; but my weapon was hacked where it met him, +and so it merely made him reel and drop his musket. The darkness +falling the blacker after the glare of the firing, must have cloaked +these doings from the other rebels. Tom rose, and the two of us fell +upon our enemy at once, I hissing out the words, "Call for quarter, +you dog!" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," he said faintly, quite docile from having had his senses +knocked out of him by my blow, and not knowing at all what was going +on. +</p> + +<p> +"Come then," said I, and grasped him by an arm, while Tom held him at +the other side; and so the three of us ran after De Lancey and his +men—for the captain had followed in vain attempt to rally them—into +the woods and down the hill. Tom's horse was shot, and mine had fled. +</p> + +<p> +Our prisoner accompanied us with the unquestioning obedience of one +whose wits are for the time upon a vacation. Getting into the current +of retreat, which consisted of mounted men, men on foot, riderless +horses, and the wrathful captain whose enterprise was now quite +hopeless through the enemy's being well warned against a second +attempt, we at last reached the main road. +</p> + +<p> +Here, out of a chaotic huddle, order was formed, and to the men left +horseless, mounts were given behind other men. Captain De Lancey +assigned a beast to myself and my prisoner. The big rebel clambered up +behind me, with the absent-minded acquiescence he had displayed ever +since my stroke had put his wits asleep. As we started dejectedly +Southward, full of bruises, aches, and weariness, there was some +question whether the rebels would pursue us. +</p> + +<p> +"Not if their officer has an ounce of sense," said Captain De Lancey, +"being without horses, as he is. He's scarce like to play the fool by +coming down, as I did in charging up! Well, we've left some wounded to +his care. Who is their commander? Ask your prisoner, Lieutenant +Russell." +</p> + +<p> +I turned on my saddle and put the query, but my man vouchsafed merely +a stupid, "Hey?" +</p> + +<p> +"Shake him back to his senses," said De Lancey, stopping his horse, as +I did mine, and Tom his. +</p> + +<p> +But shaking did not suffice. +</p> + +<p> +"This infernal darkness helps to cloud his wits," suggested the +captain. "Flash a light before his eyes. Here, Tippet, your lantern, +please." +</p> + +<p> +I continued shaking the prisoner, while the lantern was brought. +Suddenly the man gave a start, looked around into the black night, and +inquired in a husky, small voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you? Where are we?" +</p> + +<p> +"We are your captors," said I, "and upon the Hudson River road, bound +for Kingsbridge. And now, sir, who are you?" +</p> + +<p> +But the rays of the lantern, falling that instant upon his face, +answered my question for me. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelius!" I cried. +</p> + +<p> +"What, sir? Why—'tis Mr. Russell!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, and here is Tom Faringfield," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed the pedagogue, grasping the hand that +Tom held to him out of the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Cornelius, since that is your name," put in De Lancey, to whom +time was precious. "Will you please tell us who commands yonder, where +we got the reception our folly deserved, awhile ago?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, sir," said Cornelius. "'Tis no harm, I suppose—no +violation of duty or custom?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the least," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Why then, sir," says he, "since yesterday, when we relieved the +infantry there—we are dragoons, sir, though dismounted for this +particular service—a new independent troop, sir—Winwood's Horse—" +</p> + +<p> +"Winwood's!" cried I. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, Captain Winwood's—Mr. Philip, you know—'tis he commands our +post yonder." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, indeed!" said De Lancey, carelessly. "A relation of mine by +marriage." +</p> + +<p> +But for a time I had nothing to say, thinking how, after these years +of separation, Philip and I had come so near meeting in the night, and +known it not; and how, but for the turn of things, one of us might +have given the other his death-blow unwittingly in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="IX"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER IX. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Philip's Adventures—Captain Falconer Comes to Town.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Upon the way back to our lines, we were entertained by Mr. Cornelius +with an account of Philip's movements during the past three years. One +piece of information interested Captain De Lancey: the recent attack +upon Van Wrumb's Hessians, which it had been our purpose that night to +revenge, was the work of Winwood's troop of horse. Our curiosity upon +hearing of Philip as a captain of independent cavalry, who had left us +as a lieutenant of New York foot, was satisfied in the course of the +pedagogue's narrative. The tutor himself had received promotion upon +two sides: first, to the Presbyterian ministry, his admission thereto +having occurred while he was with the rebel army near Morristown, New +Jersey, the last previous Winter but one; second, to the chaplaincy of +Winwood's troop. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure the devil's in it," said I, when he had told me this, "if the +rebels' praying men are as sanguinary as you showed yourself +to-night—leaping out to pursue your beaten enemy, as you did." +</p> + +<p> +"Why," he replied, self-reproachfully, in his mildest voice, "I find, +do what I can, I have at bottom a combative spirit that will rise upon +occasion. I had thought 'twas long since quelled. But I fear no man is +always and altogether his own master. I saw even General Washington, +at Monmouth—but no matter for that. Especially of late, I have found +my demon of wrath—to speak figuratively—too much for me. 'Twas too +violently roused, maybe, that night your General Grey and his men fell +upon us as we slept, yonder across the Hudson, and slaughtered us like +sheep in the barn we lay in." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, were you in that too?" I asked, surprised. "I thought that troop +was called Lady Washington's Light Horse."<a href="#fn3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, we were then of that troop, Captain Winwood and I. 'Twas for his +conduct in that affair, his valour and skill in saving the remnant of +the troop, that he was put, t'other day, in command of an independent +company. I may take some pride in having helped him to this honour; +for his work the night General Grey surprised us was done so quietly, +and his report made so little of his own share in the business, +'twould have gone unrecognised, but for my account of it. Though, to +be sure, General Washington said afterward, in my hearing, that such +bravery and sagacity, coupled with such modesty, were only what he +might expect of Captain Winwood." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelius had shared Philip's fortunes since their departure from New +York. When Winwood fell wounded in the snow, between the two +blockhouses at the foot of the cliff, that night the rebels met defeat +at Quebec, the pedagogue remained to succour him, and so was taken +prisoner with him. He afterward helped nurse him in the French +religious house, in the walled "upper town," to which the rebel +wounded were conveyed. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the exchange of prisoners, Philip, having suffered a relapse, was +unable to accompany his comrades homeward, and Cornelius stayed to +care for him. There was a Scotchwoman who lived upon a farm a few +miles West of Quebec, and whose husband was serving on our side as one +of Colonel Maclean's Royal Highlanders. She took Winwood and the +pedagogue into her house as guests, trusting them till some uncertain +time in the future might find them able to pay. +</p> + +<p> +When at last Philip dared hazard the journey, the rebel siege of +Quebec, which had continued in a half-hearted manner until Spring +brought British reinforcements up the river in ship-loads, had long +been raised, and the rebels had long since flown. Provided by Governor +Carleton with the passports to which in their situation they were +entitled, the two started for New York, bound by way of the St. +Lawrence, the Richelieu, the lakes, and the Hudson. It was now Winter, +and only Winwood's impatience to resume service could have tempted +them to such a journey in that season. +</p> + +<p> +They came part way afoot, receiving guidance now from some solitary +fur-capped <i>courier du bois</i> clad in skins and hoofed with snow-shoes, +now from some peaceful Indian, now from the cowled brothers of, some +forest monastery which gave them a night's shelter also. Portions of +the journey they made upon sledges driven by poor <i>habitans</i> dwelling +in the far-apart villages or solitary farmhouses. At other times they +profited by boats and canoes, propelled up the St. Lawrence by French +peasants, befringed hunters, or friendly red men. Their entertainment +and housing were sometimes from such people as I have mentioned; +sometimes of their own contriving, the woods furnishing game for food, +fagots for fuel, and boughs for roof and bedding. +</p> + +<p> +They encountered no danger from human foes until they were in the +province of New York, and, having left the lakes behind them, were +footing it Southward along the now frozen Hudson. The Indians in +Northern New York had been won to our interest, by Sir John Johnson, +of Johnson Hall, in the Mohawk Valley, and were more than formerly +inclined to vigilance regarding travellers in those lonely regions. +Upon waking suddenly one night when camped in the woods, Philip saw by +the firelight that he was surrounded by a party of silent savages; his +sword and pistol, and Cornelius's rifle, being already in their +possession. The two soldiers were held as prisoners for several days, +and made to accompany their captors upon long, mysterious +peregrinations. At last they were brought before Sir John Johnson, at +one of his forts; and that gentleman, respecting Governor Carleton's +passes, and the fact that Captain Winwood was related by marriage to +the De Lanceys, sent them with a guide to Albany. +</p> + +<p> +Here they reported to General Schuyler; and Philip, having learned by +the experience of his journey that his wound left him incapacitated +for arduous service afoot, desired an arrangement by which he might +join the cavalry branch of the army. Mr. Schuyler was pleased to put +the matter through for him, and to send him to Morristown, New Jersey, +(where the rebel main force was then in Winter quarters) with a +commendatory letter to General Washington. Cornelius, whose time of +service had expired, was free to accompany him. +</p> + +<p> +Philip, being enrolled, without loss of nominal rank, in Lady +Washington's Light Horse, which Cornelius entered as a trooper, had now +the happiness of serving near the person of the commander-in-chief. He +was wounded again at the Brandywine, upon which occasion Cornelius +bore him off the field without their being captured. During the Winter +at Valley Forge, and at the battle of Monmouth, and in the recent +partisan warfare on both sides of the Hudson, their experiences were +those of Washington's army as a whole, of which there are histories +enough extant: until their troop was cut to pieces by Earl Grey, and +Captain Winwood was advanced to an independent command. This was but a +recent event. +</p> + +<p> +"And did he never think of us in New York," said Tom, "that he sent us +no word in all this time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sure, you must thank your British occupation of New York, if you +received none of our messages. General Washington allowed them to +pass." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, 'tis not easy for rebels to communicate with their friends in New +York," quoth I, "despite the traffic of goods between the Whig country +folk and some of our people, that Captain De Lancey knows about." +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, man!" said De Lancey. "Some things must be winked at; we need +their farm stuff as much as they want our tea and such. But +correspondence from rebels must go to headquarters—where 'tis like to +stop, when it's for a family whose head is of Mr. Faringfield's way of +thinking." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Mr. Cornelius, "Captain Winwood and I have discussed more +than one plan by which he might perchance get sight of his people for +a minute or so. He has hoped he might be sent into New York under a +flag of truce, upon some negotiation or other, and might obtain +permission from your general to see his wife while there; but he has +always been required otherwise when messengers were to be sent. He has +even thought of offering to enter the town clandestinely—" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush!" I interrupted. "You are indiscreet. We are soldiers of the +king, remember. But, to be sure, 'tis nonsense; Phil would not be such +a fool as to risk hanging." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, to be sure; nonsense, indeed!" Cornelius stammered, much upset at +the imprudence due to his thoughtlessness. "And yet," he resumed +presently, "never did a man more crave a sight of those he left +behind. He would barter a year of his life, I think, for a minute's +speech with his wife. He talks of her by the hour, when he and I are +alone together. There was some coolness, you will remember, before +their parting; but 'twas not on his side, and his lady seemed to have +dropped it when he was taking leave of her; and three years of absence +have gone since then. So I am sure she has softened quite, and that +she desires his return as much as he longs for her presence. And +though he knows all this must be so, he keeps me ever reassuring and +persuading him it is. Ah, sir, if ever there was a man in love with +his wife!" +</p> + +<p> +I made no reply. I had previously informed him of her good health, in +answer to a question whose eagerness came of his friendship for +Philip. I asked myself whether his unsuspecting mind was like to +perceive aught that would pain him for Philip's sake, in her +abandonment to the gaieties of the town, to the attentions of the +king's officers, to the business of making herself twice as charming +as the pedagogue had ever seen her. +</p> + +<p> +We got it arranged that our prisoner should be put on parole and +quartered at Mr. Faringfield's house, where his welcome was indeed a +glad one. When Margaret heard of his presence in the town, she gave a +momentary start (it seemed to me a start of self-accusation) and paled +a little; but she composed herself, and asked in a sweet and gracious +(not an eager) tone: +</p> + +<p> +"And Philip?" +</p> + +<p> +I told her all I had learned from Cornelius, to which she listened +with a kindly heedfulness, only sometimes pressing her white teeth +upon her lower lip, and other times dropping her lustrous eyes from my +purposely steady, and perhaps reproachful, gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"So then," said she, as if to be gay at the expense of her husband's +long absence, "now that three years and more have brought him so near +us, maybe another three years or so will bring him back to us!" 'Twas +affected gaiety, one could easily see. Her real feeling must have been +of annoyance that any news of her husband should be obtruded upon her. +She had entered into a way of life that involved forgetfulness of him, +and for which she must reproach herself whenever she thought of him, +but which was too pleasant for her to abandon. But she had the virtue +to be ashamed that reminders of his existence were unwelcome, and +consequently to pretend that she took them amiably; and yet she had +not the hypocrisy to pretend the eager solicitude which a devoted wife +would evince upon receiving news of her long-absent soldier-husband. +Such hypocrisy, indeed, would have appeared ridiculous in a wife who +had scarce mentioned her husband's name, and then only when others +spoke of him, in three years. Yet her very self-reproach for +disregarding him—did it not show that, under all the feelings that +held her to a life of gay coquetry, lay her love for Philip, not dead, +nor always sleeping? +</p> + +<p> +When Cornelius came to the house to live, she met him with a warm +clasp of the hand, and with a smile of so much radiance and sweetness, +that for a time he must have been proud of her on Phil's behalf; and +so dazzled that he could not yet see those things for which, on the +same behalf, he must needs be sorrowful. +</p> + +<p> +Knowing now exactly where Philip was, we were able to send him speedy +news of Cornelius's safety, and of the good health and good wishes of +us all; and we got in reply a message full of thanks and of +affectionate solicitude. The transfer of his troop to New Jersey soon +removed the possibility of my meeting him. +</p> + +<p> +In the following Summer (that of 1779), as I afterward learned, +Captain Winwood and some of his men accompanied Major Lee's famous +dragoons (dismounted for the occasion) to the nocturnal surprise and +capture of our post at Paulus Hook, in New Jersey, opposite New York. +But he found no way of getting into the town to see us. And so I bring +him to the Winter of 1779, when the main rebel camp was again at +Morristown, and Philip stationed near Washington's headquarters. But +meanwhile, in New York, in the previous Autumn some additional British +troops had arrived from England; and one of these was Captain +Falconer. +</p> + +<p> +There was a ball one night at Captain Morris's country-house some +eight or ten miles North of the town, which the rebel authorities had +already declared confiscate, if I remember aright, but which, as it +was upon the island of Manhattan and within our lines, yet remained in +actual possession of the rightful owner. Here Washington (said to have +been an unsuccessful suitor to Mrs. Morris when she was Miss Philipse) +had quartered ere the British chased the rebels from the island of +Manhattan; and here now were officers of our own in residence. 'Twas a +fine, white house, distinguished by the noble columns of its Grecian +front; from its height it overlooked the Hudson, the Harlem, the East +River, the Sound, and miles upon miles of undulating land on every +side.<a href="#fn4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +On this night the lights showed welcome from its many windows, open +doors, and balconies, and from the coloured paper lanterns festooned +upon its façade and strung aloft over its splendid lawn and gardens. +The house still stands, I hear, and is known as the Jumel Mansion, +from the widow who lives there. But I'll warrant it presents no more +such scenes as it offered that night, when the wealth and beauty of +New York, the chivalry of the king's army, arrived at its broad +pillared entrance by horse and by coach in a constant procession. In +the great hall, and the adjacent rooms, the rays of countless candles +fell upon brilliant uniforms, upon silk and velvet and brocade and +broadcloth, upon powdered hair, and fans and furbelows, upon white +necks and bosoms, and dazzling eyes, upon jewels and golden buckles +and shining sword-hilts. +</p> + +<p> +We that entered from the Faringfield coach were Mrs. Faringfield and +my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Tom and myself. We had just received +the greeting of our handsome hostess, and were passing up the hall, +when my eyes alighted upon the figure of an officer who stood alone, +in an attitude of pensive negligence, beside the mantelpiece. He was +fully six feet tall, but possessed a carriage of grace and elegance, +instead of the rigid erectness of so many of his comrades. He had a +slender, finely cut, English face, a long but delicate chin, gray eyes +of a beautiful clearness, slightly wavy hair that was now powdered, +and the hands and legs of a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +"What a handsome fellow! Who is he?" whispered Margaret to Fanny. +</p> + +<p> +I glanced at her. Her eyes showed admiration—an expression I had +never before seen in them. I looked back at the officer. He in turn +had seen her. His face, from having worn a look half melancholy, half +languid, had speedily become animated with interest. 'Twas as if each +of these two superb creatures had unexpectedly fallen upon something +they had scarce hoped to find in their present environment. +</p> + +<p> +"A mighty pretty gentleman, indeed," said my mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," said Margaret, with a swift relapse into indifference, "no such +Adonis neither, on second view." +</p> + +<p> +But I saw that she turned the corner of her eye upon him at intervals +as she moved forward, and that she was not sorry or annoyed to find +that he kept his gaze boldly upon her all the while. Presently he +looked about him, and singled out an acquaintance, to whom he made his +way. Five minutes later he was being introduced, as Captain Falconer, +to Mrs. Winwood. +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith," said he, in a courteous, subdued voice, after bowing very +low, "I did not think to find a lady so recently from St. James', in +this place. One might swear, looking at you, madam, that this was +Almack's." +</p> + +<p> +"Sir, you speak to one that never saw St. James' but in imagination," +said Margaret, coolly. "Sure one can be white, and moderately civil, +and yet be of New York." +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce, madam! A native? You?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, sir, of the aborigines; the daughter of a red Indian!" +</p> + +<p> +"'Fore God, then, 'tis no wonder the American colonists make war upon +the Indian race. Their wives and daughters urge 'em to it, out of +jealousy of the red men's daughters." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, if they wished the red ladies exterminated, they couldn't do +better than send a number of king's officers among 'em—famous +lady-killers, I've heard." +</p> + +<p> +"Madam, I know naught of that; nor of the art of lady-killing itself, +which I never desired to possess until this evening." +</p> + +<p> +The captain's eyes, so languid with melancholy or ennui a short while +before, now had the glow of pre-determined conquest; his face shone +with that resolve; and by this transformation, as well as by the +inconsistency of his countenance with the soft tone and playful matter +of his words, which inconsistency betrayed the gentleness to be +assumed, I read the man through once for all: selfish, resolute, +facile, versatile, able to act any part thoroughly and in a moment, +constant to his object till it was won, then quick to leave it for +another; unscrupulous, usually invincible, confident of his proven +powers rather than vain of fancied ones; good-natured when not +crossed, and with an irresistible charm of person and manner. And +Margaret too—there was more and other meaning in her looks than in +her light, ironical speeches. +</p> + +<p> +He led her through two minuets that night, and was her partner in the +Virginia reel (the name the Americans give the Sir Roger de Coverly); +and his was the last face we saw at our coach window as we started +homeward. +</p> + +<p> +"You've made the rest of the army quite jealous of this new captain," +growled Tom, as we rolled Southward over the stony Harlem road. "The +way Major Tarleton glared at him, would have set another man +trembling." +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Falconer doesn't tremble so easily, I fancy," said Margaret. +"And yet he's no marvel of a man, as I can see." +</p> + +<p> +Tom gave a sarcastic grunt. His manifestations regarding Margaret's +behaviour were the only exception to the kind, cheerful conduct of his +whole life. A younger brother is not ordinarily so watchful of a +sister's demeanour; he has the doings of other young ladies to concern +himself with. Tom did not lack these, but he was none the less keenly +sensitive upon the point of Margaret's propriety and good name. 'Twas +the extraordinary love and pride he had centred upon her, that made +him so observant and so touchy in the case. He brooded upon her +actions, worried himself with conjectures, underwent such torments as +jealous lovers know, such pangs as Hamlet felt in his uncertainty +regarding the integrity of his mother. +</p> + +<p> +Within a week after the Morris ball, it came to pass that Captain +Falconer was quartered, by regular orders, in the house of Mr. +Faringfield. Tom and I, though we only looked our thoughts, saw more +than accident in this. The officer occupied the large parlour, which +he divided by curtains into two apartments, sitting-room and +sleeping-chamber. By his courtesy and vivacity, he speedily won the +regard of the family, even of Mr. Faringfield and the Rev. Mr. +Cornelius. +</p> + +<p> +"Damn the fellow!" said Tom to me. "I can't help liking him." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I, either," was my reply; but I also damned him in my turn. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="X"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER X. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>A Fine Project.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Were it my own history that I am here undertaking, I should give at +this place an account of my first duel, which was fought with swords, +in Bayard's Woods, my opponent being an English lieutenant of foot, +from whom I had suffered a display of that superciliousness which our +provincial troops had so resented in the British regulars in the old +French War. By good luck I disarmed the man without our receiving more +than a small scratch apiece; and subsequently brought him to the +humbleness of a fawning spaniel, by a mien and tone of half-threatening +superiority which never fail of reducing such high-talking sparks to +abject meekness. 'Twas a trick of pretended bullying, which we +long-suffering Americans were driven to adopt in self-defence against +certain derisive, contemptuous praters that came to our shores from +Europe. But 'tis more to my purpose, as the biographer of Philip +Winwood, to continue upon the subject of Captain Falconer. +</p> + +<p> +He was the mirror of elegance, with none of the exaggerations of a +fop. He brought with him to the Queen Street house the atmosphere of +Bond Street and Pall Mall, the perfume of Almack's and the assembly +rooms, the air of White's and the clubs, the odour of the chocolate +houses and the fashionable taverns. 'Twas all that he represented, I +fancy, rather than what the man himself was, and conquering as he was, +that caught Margaret's eye. He typified the world before which she had +hoped to shine, and from which she had been debarred—cruelly +debarred, it may have seemed to her. I did not see this then; 'twas +another, one of a broader way of viewing things, one of a less partial +imagination—'twas Philip Winwood—that found this excuse for her. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Falconer had the perception soon to gauge correctly us who +were of American rearing, and the tact to cast aside the lofty manner +by which so many of his stupid comrades estranged us. He treated Tom +and me with an easy but always courteous familiarity that surprised, +flattered, and won us. He would play cards with us, in his +sitting-room, as if rather for the sake of our company than for the +pleasure of the game. Indeed, as he often frankly confessed, gambling +was no passion with him; and this was remarkable at a time when 'twas +the only passion most fine young gentlemen would acknowledge as +genuine in them, and when those who did not feel that passion affected +it. We admired this fine disdain on his part for the common +fashionable occupation of the age (for the pursuit of women was +pretended to be followed as a necessary pastime, but without much real +heart) as evidence of a superior mind. Yet he played with us, losing +at first, but eventually winning until I had to withdraw. Tom, having +more money to lose, held out longer. +</p> + +<p> +"Why now," said the captain once, regarding his winnings with a face +of perfect ruefulness, "'tis proven that what we seek eludes us, and +what we don't value comes to us! Here am I, the last man in the world +to court success this way, and here am I more winner than if I had +played with care and attention." +</p> + +<p> +Tom once mentioned, to another officer, Captain Falconer's luck at +cards as an instance of fortune befriending one who despised her +favours in that way. +</p> + +<p> +"Blood, sir!" exclaimed the officer. "Jack Falconer may have a mind +and taste above gaming as a pleasure, for aught I know. But I would I +had his skill with the cards. 'Tis no pastime with him, but a +livelihood. Don't you know the man is as poor as a church-mouse, but +for what he gets upon the green table?" +</p> + +<p> +This revelation a little dampened our esteem for the captain's +elevation of intellect, but I'll take my oath of it, he was really +above gaming as a way of entertaining his mind, however he resorted to +it as a means of filling his purse. +</p> + +<p> +Of course Tom's friendly association with him was before there was +sure cause to suspect his intentions regarding Margaret. His manner +toward her was the model of proper civility. He was a hundred times +more amiable and jocular with Fanny, whom he treated with the +half-familiar pleasantry of an elderly man for a child; petting her +with such delicacy as precluded displeasure on either her part or +mine. He pretended great dejection upon learning that her heart was +already engaged; and declared that his only consolation lay in the +fact that the happy possessor of the prize was myself: for which we +both liked him exceedingly. Toward Mrs. Faringfield, too, he used a +chivalrous gallantry as complimentary to her husband as to the lady. +Only between him and Margaret was there the distance of unvaried +formality. +</p> + +<p> +And yet we ought to have seen how matters stood. For now Margaret, +though she had so little apparent cordiality for the captain, had +ceased to value the admiration of the other officers, and had +substituted a serene indifference for the animated interest she had +formerly shown toward the gaieties of the town. And the captain, too, +we learned, had the reputation of an inveterate conqueror of women; +yet he had exhibited a singular callousness to the charms of the +ladies of New York. He had been three months in the town, and his name +had not been coupled with that of any woman there. We might have +surmised from this a concealed preoccupation. And, moreover, there was +my first reading of his countenance, the night of the Morris ball; +this I had not forgotten, yet I ignored it, or else I shut my eyes to +my inevitable inferences, because I could see no propriety in any +possible interference from me. +</p> + +<p> +One evening in December there was a drum at Colonel Philipse's town +house, which Margaret did not attend. She had mentioned, as reason for +absenting herself, a cold caught a few nights previously, through her +bare throat being exposed to a chill wind by the accidental falling of +her cloak as she walked to the coach after Mrs. Colden's rout. As the +evening progressed toward hilarity, I observed that Tom Faringfield +became restless and gloomy. At last he approached me, with a face +strangely white, and whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you see?—Captain Falconer is not here!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what of that?" quoth I. "Ten to one, he finds these companies +plaguey tiresome." +</p> + +<p> +"Or finds other company more agreeable," replied Tom, with a very dark +look in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He left me, with no more words upon the subject. When it was time to +go home, and Mrs. Faringfield and Fanny and I sought about the rooms +for him, we found he had already taken his leave. So we three had the +chariot to ourselves, and as we rode I kept my own thoughts upon Tom's +previous departure, and my own vague dread of what might happen. +</p> + +<p> +But when Noah let us in, all seemed well in the Faringfield house. +Margaret was in the parlour, reading; and she laid down her book to +ask us pleasantly what kind of an evening we had had. She was the only +one of the family up to receive us, Mr. Faringfield having retired +hours ago, and Tom having come in and gone to bed without an +explanation. The absence of light in Captain Falconer's windows +signified that he too had sought his couch, for had he been still out, +his servant would have kept candles lighted for him. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, as we rode out Northward to our posts, Tom suddenly +broke the silence: +</p> + +<p> +"Curse it!" said he. "There are more mysteries than one. Do you know +what I found when I got home last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't imagine." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I first looked into the parlour, but no one was there. Instead +of going on to the library, I went up-stairs and knocked at Margaret's +door. I—I wanted to see her a moment. It happened to be unlatched, +and as I knocked rather hard, it swung open. No one was in that room, +either, but I thought she might be in the bedchamber beyond, and so I +crossed to knock at that. But I chanced to look at her writing-table +as I passed; there was a candle burning on it, and devil take me if I +didn't see a letter in a big schoolboy's hand that I couldn't help +knowing at a glance—the hand of my brother Ned!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then I'll engage the letter wasn't to Margaret. You know how much +love is lost between those two." +</p> + +<p> +"But it was to her, though! 'Dear M.,' it began—there's no one else +whose name begins with M in the family. And the writing was fresh—not +the least faded. I saw that much before I thought of what I was doing. +But when I remembered 'twasn't my letter, I looked no more." +</p> + +<p> +"But how could he send a letter from the rebel camp to her in New +York?"<a href="#fn5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that's not the strangest part of it. There's no doubt Washington +has spies in the town, and ways of communicating with the rebel +sympathisers here; I've sometimes thought my father—but no matter for +that. The fact is, there the letter was, as certainly from Ned as I'm +looking at you; and we know he's in the rebel army. But the wonder, +the incredible thing, is that he should write to Margaret." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a mystery, in truth." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, 'tis none of ours, after all, and of course this will go no +further—but let me tell you, the devil's in it when those two are in +correspondence. There's crookedness of some kind afoot, when such +haters combine together!" +</p> + +<p> +"You didn't ask her, of course?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. But I knocked at her chamber door, and getting no answer I went +down-stairs again. This time she was in the parlour. She had been in +the library before, it seemed; 'twas warmer there." +</p> + +<p> +But, as I narrowly watched the poor lad, I questioned whether he was +really convinced that she had been in the library before. He had said +nothing of Captain Falconer's sitting-room, of which the door was that +of the transformed large parlour, and was directly across the hall +from the Faringfields' ordinary parlour, wherein Tom had first sought +and eventually found her. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas our practice thus to ride back to our posts when we had been off +duty, although our rank did not allow us to go mounted in the service. +For despite the needs of the army, the Faringfields and I contrived to +retain our horses for private use. All of that family were good +riders, particularly Margaret. She often rode out for a morning's +canter, going alone because it was her will thereto, which was not +opposed, for she had so accustomed us to her aloofness that solitary +excursions seemed in place with her. One day, a little later in that +same December, Tom and I had taken the road by way of General De +Lancey's country mansion at Bloomingdale, rather than our usual +course, which lay past the Murray house of Incledon. As I rode +Northward at a slow walk, some distance ahead of my comrade, I +distinctly heard through a thicket that veiled the road from a little +glade at the right, the voice of Captain Falconer, saying playfully: +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, how can you doubt me? Would not gratitude alone, for the +reparation of my fortunes, bind me as your slave, if you had not +chains more powerful?" +</p> + +<p> +And then I caught this answer, in a voice that gave me a start, and +sent the blood into my face—the voice of Margaret: +</p> + +<p> +"But will those chains hold, if this design upon your gratitude fail?" +</p> + +<p> +She spoke as in jest, but with a perceptible undercurrent of +earnestness. This was a new attitude for her, and what a revelation to +me! In a flash I saw her infatuation for this fine fellow, some fear +of losing him, a pursuit of some plan by which she might repair his +fortunes and so bind him by obligation. Had Margaret, the invincible, +the disdainful, fallen to so abject a posture? And how long had these +secret meetings been going on? +</p> + +<p> +There was new-fallen snow upon the road, and this had deadened the +sound of our horses' feet to those beyond the thicket. Tom was not yet +so near as to have heard their voices. I saw the desirability of his +remaining in ignorance for the present, so I uttered a loud "chuck," +and gave a pull at my reins, as if urging my horse to a better gait, +my purpose being to warn the speakers of unseen passers-by ere Tom +should come up. I had not let my horse come to a stop, nor had I +otherwise betrayed my discovery. +</p> + +<p> +But, to my dread, I presently heard Tom cry sharply, "Whoa!" and, +looking back, saw he had halted at the place where I had heard the +voices. My warning must have failed to hush the speakers. Never shall +I forget the look of startled horror, shame, and anger upon his face. +For a moment he sat motionless; then he turned his horse back to an +opening in the thicket, and rode into the glade. I galloped after him, +to prevent, if possible, some fearful scene. +</p> + +<p> +When I entered the glade, I saw Margaret and Captain Falconer seated +upon their horses, looking with still fresh astonishment and +discomfiture upon the intruder. Their faces were toward me. Tom had +stopped his horse, and he sat regarding them with what expression I +could not see, being behind him. Apparently no one of the three had +yet spoken. +</p> + +<p> +Tom glanced at me as I joined the group, and then, in a singularly +restrained voice, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Falconer, may I beg leave to be alone with my sister a few +moments? I have something to ask her. If you would ride a little way +off, with Mr. Russell—" +</p> + +<p> +'Twas, after all, a most natural request. A brother may wish to speak +to his sister in private, and 'tis more fitting to put a gentleman +than a lady to the trouble of an absence. Seeing it thus, and speaking +with recovered composure as if nothing were wrong, the captain +courteously replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Most certainly. Mr. Russell, after you, sir—nay, no precedence to +rank, while we are simply private gentlemen." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed low to Margaret, and we two rode out to the highway, there to +pace our horses up and down within call. Of what passed between +brother and sister, I afterward received a close account. +</p> + +<p> +"I must have a straight answer," Tom began, "for I must not be put to +the folly of acting without cause. Tell me, then, upon your honour, +has there been reason between you and Captain Falconer for me to fight +him? The truth, now! Of course, I shall find another pretext. It looks +a thousand to one, there's reason; but I must be sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I think you have lost your wits, Tom," said she. "If a gentleman +known to the family happens to meet me when I ride out, and we chance +to talk—" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, but in such a private place, and in such familiar tones, when you +scarce ever converse together at home, and then in the most formal +way! Oh, sister, that it should come to this!" +</p> + +<p> +"I say, you're a fool, Tom! And a spy too—dogging my footsteps! What +right have you to call me to account?" +</p> + +<p> +"As your brother, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"My younger brother you are; and too young to understand all you see, +for one thing, or to hold me responsible to you for my actions, for +another." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand when your honour calls for my actions, however! Your +very anger betrays you. I will kill Falconer!" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll do nothing of the kind!" +</p> + +<p> +"You shall see! I know a brother's duties—his rights, by heaven!" +</p> + +<p> +"A brother has no duties nor rights, concerning a sister who is +married." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, if not as your brother, I have as your husband's friend. For, +by God, I <i>am</i> Phil's friend, to the death; and while he's not here to +see what's passing, I dare act on his behalf. If I may not have a care +of my sister's honour, I may of Philip Winwood's! And now I'll go to +your captain!" +</p> + +<p> +"But wait—stay, Tom—a moment, for God's sake! You're mistaken, I +tell you. There's naught against Philip Winwood's honour in my meeting +Captain Falconer. We have conferences, I grant. But 'tis upon a matter +you know nothing of—a matter of the war." +</p> + +<p> +"What nonsense! To think I should believe that! What affair of the war +could you have to do with? It makes me laugh!" +</p> + +<p> +"I vow there's an affair I have to do with. What do you know of my +secrets, my planning and plotting? 'Tis an affair for the royal cause, +I'll tell you that much. Nay, I'll tell you all; you won't dare betray +it—you'd be a traitor to the king if you did. You shall be let into +it, you and Bert. Call back Captain Falconer and him." +</p> + +<p> +Puzzled and incredulous, but glad to test any assertion that might +clear his sister of the suspicion most odious, Tom hallooed for us. +When we re-entered the glade, Margaret spoke ere any one else had time +for a word: +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Falconer, I think you'll allow me the right to admit these +gentlemen into the secret of our interviews. They are both loyal, both +so dear to me that I'd gladly have them take a part in the honour of +our project—of which, heaven knows, there'll be enough and to spare +if we succeed." +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," said he, "its chance of success will be all the greater, for +the participation of these gentlemen." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" said Tom, looking inquiringly at his sister. +</p> + +<p> +"You promise your aid, then, both?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us hear it first," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +She obtained our assurances of secrecy in any event, and proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +"Everybody knows what this rebellion costs England, in money, men, and +commerce; not to speak of the king's peace of mind, and the feelings +of the nation. Everybody sees it must last well-nigh for ever, if it +doesn't even win in the end! Well, then, think what it would mean for +England, for the king, for America, if the war could be cut short by a +single blow, with no cost; cut short by one night's courage, daring, +and skill, on the part of a handful of men!" +</p> + +<p> +Tom and I smiled as at one who dreams golden impossibilities. +</p> + +<p> +"Laugh if you will," said she; "but tell me this: what is the soul of +the rebellion? What is the one vital part its life depends on? The +different rebel provinces hate and mistrust one another—what holds +'em together? The rebel Congress quarrels and plots, and issues money +that isn't worth the dirty paper it's printed on; disturbs its army, +and does no good to any one—what keeps the rebellion afoot in spite +of it? The rebel army complains, and goes hungry and half-naked, and +is full of mutiny and desertion—what still controls it from melting +away entirely? What carries it through such Winters as the rebels had +at Valley Forge, when the Congress, the army, and the people were all +at sixes and sevens and swords' points? What raises money the Lord +knows how, finds supplies the Lord knows where, induces men to stay in +the field, by the Lord knows what means, and has got such renown the +world over that now France is the rebels' ally? I make you stare, +boys; you're not used to seeing me play the orator. I never did +before, and I sha'n't again, for heaven forbid I should be a woman of +that kind! But I've studied this matter, and I hope I have a few ideas +upon it." +</p> + +<p> +"But what has done all these things you mention? May I ask that?" said +I, both amused and curious. +</p> + +<p> +"Washington!" was her reply. "Remove him, and this rebellion will +burst like a soap-bubble! And that's the last of my speechmaking. Our +project is to remove Washington—nay, there's no assassination in it. +We'll do better—capture him and send him to England. Once he is in +the Tower awaiting trial, how long do you think the rebellion will +last? And what rewards do you think there'll be for those that sent +him there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said Tom, "is that a new project? Hasn't the British army been +trying to wipe out Washington's army and take him prisoner these four +years?" +</p> + +<p> +"But not in the way that we have planned it," replied Margaret, "and +that Captain Falconer shall execute it. Tell them, captain." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis very simple, gentlemen," said the English officer. "If the +honour of the execution is to be mine, and the men's whom I shall +lead, the honour of the design, and of securing the necessary +collusion in the rebel camp, is Mrs. Winwood's. My part hitherto has +been, with Sir Henry Clinton's approval, to make up a chosen body of +men from all branches of the army; and my part finally shall be to +lead this select troop on horseback one dark night, by a devious +route, to that part of the rebel lines nearest Washington's quarters; +then, with the coöperation that this lady has obtained among the +rebels, to make a swift dash upon those quarters, seize Washington +while our presence is scarce yet known, and carry him back to New York +by outriding all pursuit. Boats will be waiting to bring us across the +river. I allow such projects have been tried before, but they have +been defeated through rebel sentries giving the alarm in time. They +lacked one advantage we possess—collusion in the rebel camp—" +</p> + +<p> +"And 'twas you obtained that collusion?" Tom broke in, turning to +Margaret. "Hang me if I see how you in New York—oh, but I do, though! +Through brother Ned!" +</p> + +<p> +"You're a marvel at a guess," quoth she. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay! But how did you carry on your correspondence with him? 'Twas +he, then, originated this scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no; 'twas no such thing! The credit is all mine, if you please. I +make no doubt, he <i>would</i> have originated it, if he had thought of it. +But a sister's wits are sometimes as good as a brother's—remember +that, Tom. For I had the wit not only to devise this project, but to +know from the first that Ned's reason for joining the rebels was, that +he might profit by betraying them." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, we might have known as much, Bert," said Tom. "But we give you +all credit for beating us there, sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you! But the rascal never saw the way to his ends, I fancy; for +he's still in good repute in the rebel army. And when I began to think +of a way to gain—to gain the honour of aiding the king's cause, you +know, I saw at once that Ned might help me. Much as we disliked each +other, he would work with me in this, for the money 'twould bring him. +And I had 'lighted upon something else, too—quite by chance. A +certain old person I know of has been serving to carry news from a +particular Whig of my acquaintance (and neither of 'em must ever come +to harm, Captain Falconer has sworn) to General Washington." (As was +afterward made sure, 'twas old Bill Meadows, who carried secret word +and money from Mr. Faringfield and other friends of the rebellion.) +"This old person is very much my friend, and will keep my secrets as +well as those of other people. So each time he has gone to the rebel +camp, of late—and how he gets there and back into New York uncaught, +heaven only knows—he has carried a message to brother Ned; and +brought back a reply. Thus while he knowingly serves the rebel cause, +he ignorantly serves ours too, for he has no notion of what my brother +and I correspond about. And so 'tis all arranged. Through Ned we have +learned that the rebel light horse troop under Harry Lee has gone off +upon some long business or other, and, as far as the army knows, may +return to the camp at any time. All that our company under Captain +Falconer has to do, then, is to ride upon a dark night to a place +outside the rebel pickets, where Ned will meet them. How Ned shall +come there unsuspected, is his own affair—he swears 'tis easy. He +will place himself at the head of our troop, and knowing the rebel +passwords for the night, as well as how to speak like one of Major +Lee's officers, he can lead our men past the sentries without alarm. +Our troop will have on the blue greatcoats and the caps the rebel +cavalry wear—General Grey's men took a number of these last year, and +now they come into use. And besides our having all these means of +passing the rebel lines without hindrance, Ned has won over a number +of the rebels themselves, by promising 'em a share of the great reward +the parliament is sure to vote for this business. He has secured some +of the men about headquarters to our interest." +</p> + +<p> +"What a traitor!" quoth Tom, in a tone of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sure, we can make use of his treason, without being proud of him +as one of the family," said Margaret. "The matter now is, that Captain +Falconer offers you two gentlemen places in the troop he has chosen." +</p> + +<p> +"The offer comes a little late, sir," said Tom, turning to the +captain. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir," replied Falconer, "I protest I often thought of you two. +But the risk, gentlemen, and your youth, and my dislike of imperilling +my friends—however, take it as you will, I now see I had done better +to enlist you at the first. The point is, to enlist you now. You shall +have your commander's permission; General Clinton gives me my choice +of men. 'Twill be a very small company, gentlemen; the need of silence +and dash requires that. And you two shall come in for honour and pay, +next to myself—that I engage. 'Twill make rich men of us three, at +least, and of your brother, sir; while this lady will find herself the +world's talk, the heroine of the age, the saviour of America, the +glory of England. I can see her hailed in London for this, if it +succeed; praised by princes, toasted by noblemen, envied by the ladies +of fashion and the Court, huzza'd by the people in the streets and +parks when she rides out—" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, captain, you see too far ahead," she interrupted, seeming ill at +ease that these things should be said before Tom and me. +</p> + +<p> +"A strange role, sure, for Captain Winwood's wife," said Tom; "that of +plotter against his commander." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," she cried, quickly, "Captain Winwood plays a strange rôle for +Margaret Faringfield's husband—that of rebel against her king. For +look ye, I had a king before he had a commander. Isn't that what you +might call logic, Tom?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis an unanswerable answer, at least," said Captain Falconer, +smiling gallantly. "But come, gentlemen, shall we have your aid in +this fine adventure?" +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine adventure, and that was the truth. The underhand work, +the plotting and the treason involved, were none of ours. 'Twas +against Philip Winwood's cause, but our cause was as much to us as his +was to him. The prospect of pay and honour did not much allure us; but +the vision of that silent night ride, that perilous entrance into the +enemy's camp, that swift dash for the person of our greatest foe, that +gallop homeward with a roused rebel cavalry, desperate with +consternation, at our heels, quite supplanted all feelings of slight +in not having been invited earlier. Such an enterprise, for young +fellows like us, there was no staying out of. +</p> + +<p> +We gave Captain Falconer our hands upon it, whereupon he told us he +would be at the pains to secure our relief from regular duty on the +night set for the adventure—that of the following Wednesday—and +directed us to be ready with our horses at the ferry at six o'clock +Wednesday evening. The rebel cavalry caps and overcoats were to be +taken to the New Jersey side previously, and there put on, this +arrangement serving as precaution against our disguise being seen +within our lines by some possible rebel spy who might thereupon +suspect our purpose and find means of preceding us to the enemy's +camp. +</p> + +<p> +Tom and I saw the English captain and Margaret take the road toward +the town, whereupon we resumed our ride Northward. I could note the +lad's relief at being able to account for his sister's secret meeting +with Falconer by a reason other than he had feared. +</p> + +<p> +"By George, though," he broke out presently, "'tis plaguey strange +Margaret should grow so active in loyalty! I never knew her zeal to be +very great for any cause of a public nature. 'Tisn't like her; rabbit +me if it is!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why," quoth I, "maybe it's for her own purposes, after all—the +reward and the glory. You know the pleasure she takes in shining." +</p> + +<p> +"Egad, that's true enough!" And Tom's face cleared again. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, I knew better! Besides the motive I had mentioned, there had +been another to stimulate her wits and industry—the one her words, +overheard by me alone, had betrayed too surely—the desire of +enriching and advancing Captain Falconer. Well, she was not the first +woman, nor has been the last, scheming to pour wealth and honour into +a man's lap, partly out of the mere joy of pleasing him, partly in +hope of binding him by gratitude, partly to make him seem in the +world's eyes the worthier her devotion, and so to lessen her demerit +if that devotion be unlawful. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Philip!" thought I. "Poor Philip! And what will be the end of +this?" +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XI"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XI. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Winwood Comes to See His Wife.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +'T were scarce possible to exaggerate the eagerness with which +Margaret looked forward to the execution of the great project. Her +anticipations, in the intensity and entirety with which they possessed +her, equalled those with which she had formerly awaited the trip to +England. She was now as oblivious of the festivities arising from the +army's presence, as she had been of the town's tame pleasures on the +former occasion. She showed, to us who had the key to her mind, a +deeper abstraction, a more anxious impatience, a keener foretaste (in +imagination) of the triumphs our success would bring her. Her +favourable expectations, of course, seesawed with fears of failure; +and sometimes there was preserved a balance that afflicted her with a +most irritating uncertainty, revealed by petulant looks and tones. But +by force of will, 'twas mainly in the hope of success that she passed +the few days between our meeting in the glade and the appointed +Wednesday evening. +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, sister," warned Tom, with kind intention, "don't raise yourself +so high with hope, or you may fall as far with disappointment." +</p> + +<p> +"Never fear, Tom; we can't fail." +</p> + +<p> +"It looks all clear and easy, I allow," said he; "but there's many a +slip, remember!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not two such great slips to the same person," she replied. "I had my +share of disappointment, when I couldn't go to London. This war, and +my stars, owe me a good turn, dear." +</p> + +<p> +But when, at dusk on Wednesday evening, Tom and I took leave of her in +the hall, she was trembling like a person with a chill. Her eyes +glowed upon us beseechingly, as if she implored our Herculean +endeavours in the attempt now to be made. +</p> + +<p> +We had to speak softly to one another, lest Mr. Faringfield might hear +and infer some particular enterprise—for we were not to hazard the +slightest adverse chance. Captain Falconer had been away from his +quarters all day, about the business of the night, and would not +return till after its accomplishment. Thus we two were the last to be +seen of her, of those bound to the adventure; and so to us were +visible the feelings with which she regarded the setting forth of our +whole company upon the project she had designed, for which she had +laboriously laid preparations even in the enemy's camp, and from which +she looked for a splendid future. Were it realised, she might defy Mr. +Faringfield and Philip: they would be nobodies, in comparison with +her: heroines belong to the whole world, and may have their choice of +the world's rewards: they may go where they please, love whom they +please, and no father nor husband may say them nay. Though I could not +but be sad, for Philip's sake, at thought of what effect our success +might have upon her, yet for the moment I seemed to view matters from +her side, with her nature, and for that moment I felt that to +disappoint her hopes would be a pity. +</p> + +<p> +As for myself (and Tom was like me) my cause and duty, not Margaret's +private ambitions, bade me strive my utmost in the business; and my +youthful love of danger sent me forth with a most exquisite thrill, as +into the riskiest, most exhilarating game a man can play. So I too +trembled a little, but with an uplifting, strong-nerved excitement far +different from the anxious tremor of suspense that tortured Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +"For pity's sake, don't fail, boys!" she said, as if all rested upon +us two. "Think of me waiting at home for the news! Heaven, how slow +the hours will pass! I sha'n't have a moment's rest of mind or body +till I know!" +</p> + +<p> +"You shall know as soon as we can get back to New York," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay—if we are able to come back," added Tom, with a queer smile. +</p> + +<p> +She turned whiter, and new thoughts seemed to sweep into her mind. But +she drove them back. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Tom, we mustn't think of that!" she whispered. "No, no, it +can't come to that! But I shall be a thousand times the more anxious! +Good night!—that's all I shall say—good night and a speedy and safe +return!" +</p> + +<p> +She caught her brother's head between her hands, bestowed a fervent +kiss upon his forehead, swiftly pressed my fingers, and opened the +door for us. +</p> + +<p> +We passed out into the dark, frosty evening. There was snow on the +ground but none in the air. We mounted our waiting horses, waved back +a farewell to the white-faced, white-handed figure in the doorway; and +started toward the ferry. Margaret was left alone with her +fast-beating heart, to her ordeal of mingled elation and doubt, her +dread of crushing disappointment, her visions of glorious triumph. +</p> + +<p> +At the ferry we reported to Captain Falconer, who was expeditiously +sending each rider and horse aboard one of the waiting flat-boats as +soon as each arrived. Thus was avoided the assemblage, for any length +of time, of a special body of horsemen in the streets—for not even +the army, let alone the townspeople, should know more of our setting +forth than could not be hid. The departure of those who were to embark +from the town was managed with exceeding quietness and rapidity. +Captain Falconer and the man who was to guide us to Edward +Faringfield's trysting-place were the last to board. +</p> + +<p> +Upon rounding the lower end of the town, and crossing the Hudson to +Paulus Hook, which post our troops had reoccupied after the rebel +capture of its former garrison, we went ashore and were joined by men +and horses from up the river, and by others from Staten Island. We +then exchanged our hats for the caps taken from the rebel cavalry, +donned the blue surtouts, and set out; Captain Falconer and the guide +riding at the head. +</p> + +<p> +For a short distance we kept to the Newark road, but, without +proceeding to that town, we deviated to the right, and made +Northwestwardly, the purpose being to pass through a hiatus in the +semicircle of rebel detached posts, turn the extremity of the main +army, and approach Morristown—where Washington had his +headquarters—from a side whence a British force from New York might +be the less expected. +</p> + +<p> +Each man of us carried a sword and two pistols, having otherwise no +burden but his clothes. At first we walked our horses, but presently +we put them to a steady, easy gallop. The snow on the ground greatly +muffled the sound of our horses' footfalls, and made our way less +invisible than so dark a night might have allowed. But it made +ourselves also the more likely to be seen; though scarce at a great +distance nor in more than brief glimpses, for the wind raised clouds +of fine snow from the whitened fields, the black growth of tree and +brush along the road served now as curtain for us, now as background +into which our outlines might sink, and a stretch of woods sometimes +swallowed us entirely from sight. Besides, on such a night there would +be few folk outdoors, and if any of these came near, or if we were +seen from farmhouses or village windows, our appearance of rebel horse +would protect our purpose. So, in silence all, following our captain +and his guide, we rode forward to seize the rebel chief, and make +several people's fortunes. +</p> + +<p> +I must now turn to Philip Winwood, and relate matters of which I was +not a witness, but with which I was subsequently made acquainted in +all minuteness. +</p> + +<p> +We had had no direct communication with Philip since the time after +our capture of Mr. Cornelius, who, as every exchange of prisoners had +passed him by, still remarked upon parole at Mr. Faringfield's. If Mr. +Faringfield received news of Winwood through his surreptitious +messenger, Bill Meadows, he kept it to himself, naturally making a +secret of his being in correspondence with General Washington. +</p> + +<p> +Though Philip knew of Meadows's perilous employment, he would not risk +the fellow's discovery even to Margaret, and so refrained from laying +upon him the task of a message to her. How she found out what Meadows +was engaged in, I cannot guess, unless it was that, unheeded in the +house as she was unheeding, she chanced to overhear some talk between +her father and him, or to detect him in the bringing of some letter +which she afterward took the trouble secretly to peep into. Nor did I +ever press to know by what means she had induced him to serve as +messenger between her and Ned, and to keep this service hidden from +her father and husband and all the world. Maybe she pretended a desire +to hear of her husband without his knowing she had so far softened +toward him, and a fear of her father's wrath if he learned she made +Ned her correspondent in the matter. Perhaps she added to her gentler +means of persuasion a veiled threat of exposing Meadows to the British +if he refused. In any event, she knew that, once enlisted, he could be +relied on for the strictest obedience to her wishes. It needed not, in +his case, the additional motive for secrecy, that a knowledge of his +employment on Margaret's business would compromise him with General +Washington and Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +How Meadows contrived to meet Ned, to open the matter to him, to +convey the ensuing correspondence, to avoid discovery upon this matter +in the rebel camp, as he avoided it upon Washington's business in New +York, is beyond me: if it were not, I should be as skilful, as fit for +such work, as Meadows himself. 'Tis well-known now what marvellously +able secret agents Washington made use of; how to each side many of +them had to play the part of spies upon the other side; how they were +regarded with equal suspicion in both camps; and how some of them +really served their enemies in order finally to serve their friends. +More than one of them, indeed, played a double game, receiving pay +from both sides, and earning it from both, each commander conceiving +himself to be the one benefited. In comparison with such duplicity, +the act of Meadows, in undertaking Margaret's private business as a +secret matter adjunctive to his main employment, was honesty itself. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis thus explained why, though Margaret might communicate with her +brother in the enemy's camp, she got no word from her husband there. +But his thoughts and his wishes had scarce another subject than +herself. The desire to see her, possessed him more and more wholly. He +imagined that her state of mind must in this be a reflection of his +own. Long ago her anger must have died—nay, had it not passed in that +farewell embrace when she held up her face to invite his kiss? The +chastening years of separation, the knowledge of his toils and +dangers, must have wrought upon her heart, to make it more tender to +him than ever. She must grieve at their parting, long for his +home-coming. So convinced was he of such feelings on her part, that he +pitied her for them, felt the start of many a tear in sorrow for her +sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor girl!" he thought. "How her face would gladden if I were to walk +into her presence at this moment!" +</p> + +<p> +And the thought gave birth to the resolution. The joy of such a +meeting was worth a thousand risks and efforts. +</p> + +<p> +His first step was to get leave of absence and General Washington's +permission to enter New York. The former was quickly obtained, the +latter less so. But if he failed to demonstrate to the commander the +possible profit of his secretly visiting the enemy's town, he +convinced him that the entrance was not too difficult to one who knew +the land so well, and who could so easily find concealment. +Sympathising with Philip's private motive in the case, trusting him +implicitly, and crediting his ability to take care of himself in even +so perilous a matter, Washington finally gave consent. +</p> + +<p> +Philip rode in proper manner from the rebel camp, bound apparently +Southward, as if perchance he bore despatches to the rebel civil +authorities at Philadelphia. Once out of observation, he concealed his +uniform cap and outer coat, and provided himself at a New Jersey +village with an ordinary felt hat, and a plain dark overcoat. He then +turned from the Southward road, circled widely about the rebel camp, +and arrived at a point some distance north of it. Here, in a +hospitable farmhouse, he passed the night. The next day, he rode +Eastward for the Hudson River, crossing undiscovered the scanty, +ill-patrolled line of rebel outposts, and for the most part refraining +from use of the main roads, deserted as these were. By woods and +by-ways, he proceeded as best the snow-covered state of the country +allowed. 'Twas near dusk on the second day, when he came out upon the +wooded heights that looked coldly down upon the Hudson a few miles +above the spot opposite the town of New York. +</p> + +<p> +He looked across the river and Southeastward, knowing that beyond the +low hills and the woods lay the town, and that in the town was +Margaret. Then he rode back from the crest of the cliff till he came +to the head of a ravine. Down this he led his beast, arriving finally +at the narrow strip of river-bank at the cliff's foot. He followed +this some distance Southward, still leading the horse. 'Twas not yet +so dark that he could not make out a British sloop-of-war, and further +down the river the less distinct outline of a frigate, serving as +sentinels and protectors of this approach to the town. From these he +was concealed by the bushes that grew at the river's edge. +</p> + +<p> +At last he turned into the mouth of a second ravine, and, rounding a +sharp side-spur of the interrupted cliff, came upon a log hut built +upon a small level shelf of earth. At one end of this structure was a +pent-roof. Philip tied his horse thereunder, and, noting a kind of dim +glow through the oiled paper that filled the cabin's single window, +gave two double knocks followed by a single one, upon the plank door. +This was soon opened, and Philip admitted to the presence of the +single occupant, an uncouth fellow, fisherman and hunter, whose +acquaintance he had made in patrolling the New Jersey side at the head +of his troop. The man was at heart with the rebels, and Winwood knew +with whom he had to deal. Indeed Philip had laid his plans carefully +for this hazardous visit, in accordance with his knowledge of the +neighbourhood and of what he might rely upon. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to borrow one of your canoes, Ellis," said he, "and beg your +attention to my horse, which is in the shed. Be so kind as to give it +feed, and to cover it with a blanket if you have such a thing. But +leave it in the shed, and ready saddled; I may have to ride in a +hurry. I sha'n't need you with me in the canoe—nor any supper, I +thank you, sir." +</p> + +<p> +For the man, with the taciturn way of his kind, had motioned toward +some pork frying at a fire. With no thought to press, or to question, +he replied: +</p> + +<p> +"I'll fetch the canoe down the gully, cap'n. You stay here and warm +yourself a minute. And don't worry about your hoss, sir." +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later, Philip was launched upon the dark current of the +Hudson, paddling silently toward the Eastern shore. Darkness had now +fallen, and he trusted it to hide him from the vigilance of the +British vessels whose lights shone dim and uncertain down the river. +</p> + +<p> +Much larger craft landed much larger crews within our lines, on no +darker nights—as, for one case, when the Whigs came down in +whaleboats and set fire to the country mansion of our General De +Lancey at Bloomingdale. Philip made the passage unseen, and drew the +canoe up to a safe place under some bushes growing from the face of a +low bluff that rose from the slight beach. His heart galloped and +glowed at sense of being on the same island with his wife. He was +thrilled to think that, if all went well, within an hour or two he +should hold her in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +He saw to the priming of his pistols, and loosened the sword that hung +beneath his overcoat; and then he glided some way down the strip of +beach. Coming to a convenient place, he clambered up the bluff, to a +cleared space backed by woods. +</p> + +<p> +"Who goes there?" +</p> + +<p> +'Twas the voice of a man who had suddenly halted in the clearing, +half-way between the woods and the crest of the bluff. The snow on the +ground enabled the two to descry each other. Winwood saw the man raise +a musket to his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"A word with you, friend," said Philip, and strode swiftly forward ere +the sentinel (who was a loyalist volunteer, not a British regular) had +the wit to fire. Catching the musket-barrel with one hand, Winwood +clapped his pistol to the soldier's breast with the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," says he, "if you give a sound, I'll send a bullet through you. +If I pass here, 'twill bring you no harm, for none shall know it but +us two. Let go your musket a moment—I'll give it back to you, man." +</p> + +<p> +A pressure of the pistol against the fellow's ribs brought obedience. +Philip dropped the musket, and, with his foot, dug its lock into the +snow, spoiling the priming. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," he continued, "I'll leave you, and remember, if you raise an +alarm, you'll be blamed for not firing upon me." +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Philip dashed into the woods, leaving the startled sentinel +to pick up his musket and resume his round as if naught had occurred. +The man knew that his own comfort lay in secrecy, and his comfort +outweighed his military conscience. +</p> + +<p> +Through woods and fields Winwood proceeded, skirted swamps and ponds, +and waded streams, traversing old familiar ground, the sight of which +brought back memories of countless holiday rambles in the happy early +days. Margaret's bright face and merry voice, her smiles, and her +little displays of partiality for him, were foremost in each +recollection; and that he was so soon to see her again, appeared too +wonderful for belief. He went forward in the intoxication of joy, +singing to himself as a boy would have done. +</p> + +<p> +He knew where there were houses and barns to avoid, and where there +were most like to be British cantonments. At length he was so near the +town, that he was surprised to have come upon no inner line of +sentries. Even as he wondered, he emerged from a copse into a field, +and received the usual challenge—spoken this time in so quick, +machine-like a manner, and accompanied by so prompt and precise a +levelling of the musket, that he knew 'twas a British regular he had +to deal with. +</p> + +<p> +He made a pretence of raising a pistol to shoot down the sentry. This +brought the sentry's fire, which—as it too was of a British regular +of those days—Philip felt safe in risking. But though the shot went +far wide, he gave a cry as if he had been hit, and staggered back into +the woods. He was no sooner within its cover, than he ran swiftly +Eastward with all possible silence. He had noted that the sentry had +been pacing in that direction; hence the first of the sentry's +comrades to run up would be the one approaching therefrom. This would +leave a break in the line, at that part of it East of the scene of the +alarm. Philip stopped presently; peered forth from the woods, saw the +second sentry hasten with long steps Westward; and then made a dash +across the latter's tracks, bending low his body as he went. He thus +reached a cover of thicket, through which he forced his way in time to +emerge toward the town ere any results of the alarming gun-shot were +manifest. +</p> + +<p> +Unless he were willing to attempt crossing what British defences he +knew not, or other impediments that might bar passage to the town +elsewhere than at the Bowery lane entrance, he must now pass the guard +there, which served for the town itself as the outer barriers at +Kingsbridge served for the whole island of Manhattan. He chose the +less tedious, though more audacious alternative of facing the guard. +</p> + +<p> +He could not employ in this case the method used in passing the shore +patrol, or that adopted in crossing the line of sentinels above the +town; for here the road was the only open way through, it was flanked +by a guardhouse, it was lighted by a lantern that hung above the door, +and the sentinels were disciplined men. Philip gathered these facts in +a single glance, as he approached by slinking along the side of the +road, into which he had crawled, through a rail fence, from an +adjoining field. +</p> + +<p> +He was close upon the sentinels who paced before the guardhouse, ere +he was discovered. For the third time that night, he heard the +challenge and saw the threatening movement. +</p> + +<p> +"All's well," he replied. "I'll give an account of myself." And he +stepped forward, grasping one of his pistols, not by the breech, but +by the barrel. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop where you are!" said the sentry, menacingly. +</p> + +<p> +Philip stood still, raised the pistol, flung it at the lantern, and +instantly dropped to his knees. The sentinel's musket flashed and +cracked. Total darkness ensued. Philip glided forward between the two +men, his footfalls drowned by the sound of their curses. When past +them, he hurled his remaining pistol back over his shoulder toward a +mass of bushes on the further side of the sentinels. Its descent +through the brush had some sound of a man's leap, and would, he hoped, +lead the enemy to think he might have escaped in that direction. By +the time the noise of a commotion reached him, with orders to turn out +the guard, he was past the building used as a prison for his fellow +rebels, and was hastening along the side of the common—now diverted +to camp uses of the British as it had been to those of the +rebels—able to find the rest of his way in Egyptian blackness. He +knew what alleys to take, what short cuts to make by traversing +gardens, what ways were most like to be deserted. The streets in the +part of the town through which he had to pass were nearly empty, the +taverns, the barracks, and most of the officers' quarters being +elsewhere. And so, with a heart elated beyond my power of expression, +he leaped finally into the rear garden of the Faringfield mansion, and +strode, as if on air, toward the veranda. +</p> + +<p> +He had guessed that the family would be in the smaller parlour, or the +library, and so he was not surprised to see all the lower windows dark +that were visible from the direction of his approach. But, which gave +him a thrill of delightful conjecture, two upper windows shone with +light—those above the great parlour and hence belonging to one of the +chambers formerly occupied by Margaret and him. He knew no reason why +his wife should not still retain the same rooms. She would, then, be +there, and probably alone. He might go to her while none was present +to chill their meeting, none before whom her pride might induce her to +conceal the completeness of her reconciliation, or to moderate the joy +of her greeting. Would she weep? Would she laugh? Would she cry out? +Would she merely fall into his arms with a glad smile and cling in a +long embrace under his lingering kiss? He trembled like a schoolboy as +he climbed the trellis-work to enter by a window. +</p> + +<p> +Creeping up the sloping, snow-covered roof of the veranda, he came at +length to the window, and looked in. The chamber was empty, but the +door was ajar that led to the apartment in front, used as a +sitting-room. She must be in that room, for his first glance had +recognised many of her trinkets and possessions in the first chamber. +He asked himself if the years had changed her: they would have made +her a little graver, doubtless. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the window so slowly that the noise was scarce perceptible. +Then he clambered over the ledge into the chamber; strode tiptoe +toward the next room, catching a mirrored glimpse of his face as he +passed her dressing-table—the most joyous, eager face in the world. +He pushed the door further open, and stepped across the threshold. She +was there, in the centre of the room, standing in meditation, her face +turned by chance toward the door through which he entered. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear," said he, in a voice scarce above a whisper; and started +toward her, with arms held out, and (I am sure) a very angel's smile +of joy and love upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +She opened her eyes and lips in wonder, and then stood pale and rigid +as marble, and made a faint gesture to check his approach. As he +halted in astonishment, his joy dying at her look, she whispered +hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +"You! You, of all men? And to-night, of all nights!" +</p> + +<p> +'Twas the night of our setting forth upon her great design of seizing +his commander-in-chief. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Their Interview.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Philip took note, at the time, rather of her look than of her words. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, dear," said he, "don't be frightened. Tis I, Philip—'tis not my +ghost." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, 'tis you—I know that well enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Then—" he began, and stepped toward her. +</p> + +<p> +But she retreated with such a movement that he stopped again. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter?" he questioned. "Why do you look so?—This is +scarce the welcome I had imagined." +</p> + +<p> +"Why are you here?" she asked, in a low voice, regarding him steadily. +"How did you come? What does it mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"It means I love you so much, I could stay no longer from seeing you. +I came by horse, boat, and foot. I passed the British sentries." +</p> + +<p> +"You risked your life, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, of course. If they caught me inside their lines, they would hang +me as a spy. But—" +</p> + +<p> +She could not but be touched at this. "Poor Philip!" she murmured, +with a tremor in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Not poor," said he, "now that I am with you—if you would not draw +back, and look so. What is wrong? Am I—unwelcome?" +</p> + +<p> +She saw that, to be true to her design, to her elaborate plan for the +future, she must not soften toward him—for his reappearance, with the +old-time boyish look and manner, the fond expression now wistful and +alarmed, the tender eyes now startled and affrighted, revived much +that had been dormant in her heart, and made Captain Falconer seem a +very far-off and casual person. Against the influence of Philip's +presence, and the effect of his having so imperilled himself to see +her, she had to arm herself with coldness, or look upon the success of +her project as going for naught to her advantage. She dared not +contemplate the forfeit; so she hardened her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," she said, with a forced absence of feeling, "so many years have +passed—so many things have happened—you appear so much a stranger—" +</p> + +<p> +"Stranger!" echoed he. "Why, not if you had thought of me half as +constantly as I have of you! You have been in my mind, in my heart, +every hour, every minute since that day—Can it be? Is it my Margaret +that stands there and speaks so? So unmoved to see me! So cold! Oh, +who would have expected this?" +</p> + +<p> +He sat down and gazed wretchedly about the room, taking no cognisance +of what objects his sight fell upon. Margaret seated herself, with a +sigh of annoyance, and regarded him with a countenance of displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Margaret, do you mean what you say?" he asked, after a short silence. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure you shouldn't blame me," said she. "You enabled me to learn +how to endure your absence. You stayed away all these years. Naturally +I've come to consider you as—" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, don't attempt to put me in the wrong. My heart is as warm to you +as ever, in spite of the years of absence. Those years have made no +change in me. Why should they have changed you, then? No—'tis not +their fault if you are changed, nor mine neither. There is something +wrong, I see. Be frank, dear, and tell me what it is. You need not be +afraid of me—you know I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head. Oh, +sweetheart, what has come between us? Tell me, I beg!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, nothing, of course—nothing but the gulf that time has widened. +That's all—sure 'tis enough." +</p> + +<p> +"But 'tis more than that. Were that all, and I came back to you thus, +a minute's presence would bridge that gulf. All the old feelings would +rush back. Why, if I were but a mere acquaintance whom you had once +known in a friendly way, you wouldn't have greeted me so coldly. There +would have been cordiality, smiles, a warm clasp of the hand, +questions about my health and doings, at least a curiosity as to how I +had passed the years. But you meet me, not merely with lack of warmth, +but with positive coldness. Nay, you were shocked, startled, +frightened! You turned white, and stood still as if you saw a spirit, +or as if you were caught in some crime! Yes, 'twas for all the world +like that! And what was't you said? It passed me then, I was so amazed +at my reception—so different from the one I had pictured all the way +thither, all the weeks and months. What was't you said?" +</p> + +<p> +"Some word of surprise, I suppose; something of no meaning." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, it had meaning, too. I felt that, though I put it aside for the +time. Something about the night—ah, yes: 'to-night of all nights.' +And me of all men. Why so? Why to-night in particular? Why am I the +most inconvenient visitor, and why <i>to-night</i> ? Tell me that! Tell +me—I have the right to know!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, if you work yourself up into a fury so—" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis no senseless fury, madam! There's reason at the bottom of it, my +lady! I must know, and I will know, what it is that my visit +interferes with. You were not going out, I can see by your dress. Nor +expecting company. Unless—no, it couldn't be that! You're not capable +of that! You are my wife, you are Margaret Faringfield, William +Faringfield's daughter. God forgive the mistrust—yet every husband +with an imagination has tortured himself for an instant sometime with +that thought, suppose his wife's heart <i>might</i> stray? I've heard 'em +confess the thought; and even I—but what a hell it was for the moment +it lasted! And how swiftly I put it from me, to dwell on your +tenderness in the old days, your pride that has put you above the +hopes of all men but me, the unworthy one you chose to reach down your +hand to from your higher level!" +</p> + +<p> +"So you have harboured <i>that</i> suspicion, have you?" she cried, with +flashing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no; harboured it never! Only let my perverse imagination 'light, +for the space of a breath, on the possibility, to my unutterable +torment. All men's fancies play 'em such tricks now and then, to +torture them and take down their vanity. Men would rest too easy in +their security, were it not so." +</p> + +<p> +"A man that suspects his wife, deserves to lose her allegiance," cried +Margaret, with a kind of triumphant imputation of blame, which was her +betrayal. +</p> + +<p> +He gazed at her with the dawning horror of half-conviction. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I have lost yours?" he asked, in a tone stricken with doubt and +dread. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't say so," she replied, reddening. +</p> + +<p> +"But your words imply that. You seemed to be justifying yourself by my +suspicion. But there was no suspicion till now—nothing but a +tormenting fancy of what I believed impossible. So you cannot excuse +yourself that way." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not trying to excuse myself. There's nothing to excuse." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not sure of that! Your manner looks as if you realised having +said too much—having betrayed yourself. Margaret, for God's sake, +tell me 'tis not so! Tell me my fears are wrong! Assure me I have not +lost you—no, no, I won't even ask you. 'Tis not possible. I won't +believe it of you—that you could be inconstant! Forgive me, +dear—your strange manner has so upset me—but forgive me, I beg, and +let me take you in my arms." He had risen to approach her. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no! Don't. Don't touch me!" she cried, rising in turn, for +resistance. She kept her mind fixed upon the expected rewards of her +project, and so fortified herself against yielding. +</p> + +<p> +"By heaven, I'll know what this means!" he cried. He looked wildly +about the room, as if the explanation might somewhere there be found. +Her own glance went with his, as if there might indeed be some +evidence, which she must either make shift to conceal, or invent an +innocent reason for its presence. Her eye rested an instant upon a +book that lay on the table. Philip noted this, picked up the book, +turned the cover, and read the name on the first leaf. +</p> + +<p> +"'Charles Falconer.' Who is he?" +</p> + +<a name="04"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/04.jpg" alt="'HE IS A—AN ACQUAINTANCE.'" width="351" height="509"></p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>"'HE IS A—AN ACQUAINTANCE.'"</small> +</p> +<p> </p> + +<p> +"No matter," she said quickly, and made to snatch the book away. "He +is a—an acquaintance. He is quartered in the house, in fact—a +British officer." +</p> + +<p> +"An acquaintance? But why do you turn red? Why look so confused? Why +try to take the book away from me? Oh, my God, it is true! it is +true!" He dropped the volume, sank back upon a chair, and regarded her +with indescribable grief. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," she blundered, "a gentleman may lend a lady a novel—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, the lending is nothing! 'Twas your look and action when I read +his name. 'Tis your look now, your look of guilt. Oh, to see that +flush of discovered shame on <i>your</i> face! You care for this man, I can +see that!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what if I do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you confess it? Oh, can it be you that say this?—you that stand +there with eyes that drop before mine for shame—nay, eyes that you +raise with defiance! Brazen—oh, my God, my God, tell me 'tis all a +mistake! Tell me I wrong you, dear; that you are still mine, my +Margaret, my Madge—little Madge, that found me a home that day I came +to New York; my pretty Madge, that cried when I was going to leave on +Ned's account; that I loved the first moment I saw her, and—always—" +</p> + +<p> +He broke down at this, and leaned forward upon the table, covering his +face with his hands. When he next looked up, with haggard countenance, +he saw her lips twitching and tears in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a flash of hope, and half rose to go to her. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no! Let me alone!" she cried, escaping narrowly from that +surrender to her feelings which would have meant forfeiting the fruits +of her long planning. +</p> + +<p> +His mood changed. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll not endure this," he cried, rising and pacing the floor. "You'll +find I'm no such weakling, though I can weep for my wife when I lose +her love. <i>He</i> shall find it so, too! I understand now what you meant +by 'to-night of all nights.' He was to meet you to-night. He's +quartered in the house, you say. He was to slink up, no doubt, when +all were out of the way—your father divines little of this, I'll +warrant. Well, he may come—but he shall find <i>me</i> waiting at my +wife's door!" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll wait in vain, then. He is very far from here to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll believe that when it's proven. I find 'tis well that I, 'of all +men,' came here to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, you're mistaken. You had been more like to find him to-night +where you came from, than where you've come to." +</p> + +<p> +How true it is that a woman may always be relied on to say a word too +much—whether for the sake of a taunt, or the mere necessity of giving +an apt answer, I presume not to decide. +</p> + +<p> +"What can that mean?" said he, arrested by the peculiarity of her tone +and look. "Find him where I came from? Why, that's our camp. What does +he do there, 'to-night of all nights?' Explain yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing at all. I spoke without thinking." +</p> + +<p> +"The likelier to have spoken true, then! So your—acquaintance—might +be found in our camp to-night? Charles Falconer, a British officer. I +can't imagine—not as a spy, surely. Oho! is there some expedition? +Some attack, some midnight surprise? This requires looking into." +</p> + +<p> +"I fear you will not find out much. And if you did, it would be too +late for you to carry a warning." +</p> + +<p> +"The expedition has too great a start of me—is that what you mean? +That's to be seen. I might beat Mr. Falconer in this, as he has beaten +me—elsewhere. I know the Jersey roads better than I have known my +wife's heart, perchance. What is this expedition?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I would tell you—if there were one?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm satisfied there is some such thing. But I doubt no warning of +mine is needed, to defeat it. Our army is alert for these night +attempts. We've had too many of 'em. If there be one afoot to-night, +so much the worse for those engaged in it." +</p> + +<p> +This irritated her; and she never used the skill to guard her speech, +at her calmest; so she answered quickly: +</p> + +<p> +"Not if it's helped by traitors in your camp!" +</p> + +<p> +"What?—But how should you, a woman, know of such a matter?" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll see, when the honours are distributed." +</p> + +<p> +"This is very strange. You are in this officer's confidence, perhaps. +He is unwise to trust you so far—you have told me enough to—" +</p> + +<p> +"There's no more need of secrecy. Captain Falconer's men are well on +their way to Morristown. Even if you got out of our lines as easily as +you got in, you could only meet our troops returning with your +general." +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless she conceived that by taunting him, at this safe hour, with +this prevision of her success, she helped the estrangement which she +felt necessary to her enjoyment of her expected rewards. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" quoth he, with a bitter, derisive laugh. "Another attempt to +seize Washington! What folly!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not when we are helped by treason in your camp, as I said before. +Folly, is it? You'll sing another song to-morrow!" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled with anticipated triumph, and the smile had in it so much +of the Madge of other days, that his bitterness forsook him, and +admiration and love returned to sharpen his grief. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Madge, dear, could I but win you back!" he murmured, wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +"What, in that strain again!" she said, petulant at each revival of +the self-reproach his sorrow caused in her. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, if I had but the chance! If I might be with you long enough, if I +might reawaken the old tenderness!—But I forget; treason in our camp, +you say. There is danger, then—ay, there's always the possibility. +The devil's in it, that I must tear myself from you now; that I must +part with you while matters are so wrong between us; that I must leave +you when I would give ten years of life for one hour to win your love +back! But you will take my hand, let me kiss you once—you will do +that for the sake of the old times—and then I will be gone!" +</p> + +<p> +"Be gone? Where?" +</p> + +<p> +"Back to camp, of course, to give warning of this expedition." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis impossible! Tis hours—" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis not impossible—I will outride them. They wouldn't have started +before dark." +</p> + +<p> +"You would only overtake them, at your best. Do you think they would +let you pass?" +</p> + +<p> +"Poh! I know every road. I can ride around them. I'll put the army in +readiness for 'em, treason or no treason! For the present, good-bye—" +</p> + +<p> +The look in his face—of power and resolution—gave her a sudden sense +of her triumph slipping out of her grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not go!" she cried, quite awakened to the peril of the +situation to her enterprise. +</p> + +<p> +"I must! Good-bye! One kiss, I beg!" +</p> + +<p> +"But you sha'n't go!" As he came close to her, she clasped him tightly +with both arms. She made no attempt to avoid his kiss, and he, taking +this for acquiescence, bestowed the kiss upon unresponsive lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Now let me go," said he, turning to stride toward the door by which +he had entered from the rear chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no! Stay. Time to win back my love, you said. Take the time now. +You may find me not so difficult of winning back. Nay, I have never +ceased to love you, at the bottom of my heart. I love you now. You +shall stay." +</p> + +<p> +"I must not, I dare not. Oh, I would to God I could believe you! But +whether 'tis true, or a device to keep me here, I will not stay. Let +me go!" +</p> + +<p> +"I will not! You will have to force me from you, first! I tell you I +love you—my husband!" +</p> + +<p> +"If you love me, you will let me go." +</p> + +<p> +"If you love me, you will stay." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a moment—though God knows how I love you! I will come to see you +soon again." +</p> + +<p> +"If you go now, I will never let you see me again!—Nay, you must drag +me after you, then!" +</p> + +<p> +He was moving toward the door despite her hold; and now he caught her +wrists to force open the clasp in which she held him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! you are crushing my arms!" she cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, the beautiful, dear arms—God bless them! But let me go, then!" +</p> + +<p> +"I won't! You will have to kill me, first! You shall not spoil my +scheme!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yours!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, mine! Mine, against your commander, against your cause!" She was +wrought up now to a fury, at the physical force he exerted to release +himself; and for the time, swayed by her feelings only, she let policy +fly to the winds. "Your cause that I hate, because it ruined my hopes +before! You are a fool if you think my being your wife would have kept +me from fighting your hateful cause. I became your wife that I might +go to England, and when that failed I was yours no longer. Love +another? Yes!—and you shall not spoil his work and mine—not unless +you kill me!" +</p> + +<p> +For a moment his mental anguish, his overwhelming shame for her, +unnerved him, and he stared at her with a ghastly face, relaxing his +pressure for freedom. But this weakness was followed by a fierce +reaction. His countenance darkened, and with one effort, the first +into which he had put his real strength, he tore her arms from him. +White-faced and breathing fast, with rage and fear of defeat, she ran +to a front window, and flung it open. +</p> + +<p> +"By heaven, I'll stop you!" she cried. "Help! A rebel—a spy! Ah, you +men yonder—this way! A rebel spy!" +</p> + +<p> +Philip looked over her head, out of the window. Far up the street +swaggered five or six figures which, upon coming under a corner lamp +whose rays yellowed a small circle of snow, showed to be those of +British soldiers. Their unaltered movements evidenced that they had +not heard her cry. Thereupon she shouted, with an increased voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Soldiers! Help! Surround this house! A rebel—" +</p> + +<p> +She got no further, for Philip dragged her away from the window, and, +when she essayed to scream the louder, he placed one hand over her +mouth, the other about her neck. Holding her thus, he forced her into +the rear chamber, and then toward the window by which he meant to +leave. At its very ledge he let her go, and made to step out to the +roof of the veranda. But she grasped his clothes with the power of +rage and desperation, and set up another screaming for help. +</p> + +<p> +In an agony of mind at having to use such painful violence against a +woman, and how much more so against the wife he still loved; and at +the grievous appearance that she was willing to sacrifice him upon the +British gallows rather than let him mar her purpose, he flung her away +with all necessary force, so that, with a final shriek of pain and +dismay, she fell to the floor exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +He cast an anguished glance upon her, as she lay defeated and +half-fainting; and, knowing not to what fate he might be leaving her, +he moaned, "God pity her!" and stepped out upon the sloping roof. He +scrambled to the edge, let himself half-way down by the trellis, +leaped the rest of the distance, and ran through the back garden from +the place he had so well loved. +</p> + +<p> +While his wife, lying weak upon the floor of her chamber, gazed at the +window through which he had disappeared, and, as if a new change had +occurred within her, sobbed in consternation: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what have I done? He is a man, indeed!—and I have lost him!" +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XIII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Wherein Captain Winwood Declines a Promotion.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Philip assumed that the greatest risk would lie in departing the town +by the route over which he had made his entrance, and in which he had +left a trail of alarm. His best course would be in the opposite +direction. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, having leaped across the fence to the alley behind the +Faringfield grounds, he turned to the right and ran; for he had +bethought him, while fleeing through the garden, that he might +probably find a row-boat at the Faringfield wharves. He guessed that, +as the port of New York was open to all but the rebel Americans and +their allies the French, Mr. Faringfield would have continued his +trade in the small way possible, under the British flag, that his loss +by the war might be the less, and his means of secretly aiding the +rebel cause might be the more. So there would still be some little +shipping, and its accessories, at the wharves. +</p> + +<p> +Though the British occupation had greatly changed the aspect of the +town by daylight, it had not altered the topography of that part which +Philip had to traverse, and the darkness that served as his shield was +to him no impediment. Many a time, in the old days, we had chased and +fled through those streets and alleys, in make-believe deer-hunts or +mimic Indian warfare. So, without a collision or a stumble, he made +his way swiftly to the mouth of a street that gave upon the +water-front, by the Faringfield warehouse where so many busy days of +his boyhood and youth had passed, and opposite the wharves. +</p> + +<p> +He paused here, lacking knowledge whether the river front was guarded +or not. He saw no human being, but could not be sure whether or not +some dark form might emerge from the dimness when he should cross to +the wharves. These, like the street and the roofs, were snow-covered. +Aloft beyond them, but close, two or three faint lights, tiny yellow +islets in a sea of gloom, revealed the presence of the shipping on +which he had counted. He could hear the slap of the inky water against +the piles, but scarce another sound, save his own breathing. +</p> + +<p> +He formed the intention of making a noiseless dash across the +waterside street, with body bent low, to the part of the wharf where a +small boat was most like to be. He was standing close to one side of a +wooden building that fronted toward the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +He sprang forward, and, just as he passed the corner of the edifice, +his head struck something heavy but yielding, which toppled over +sidewise with a grunt, and upon which Philip fell prone, forcing from +it a second grunt a little less vigorous than the first. 'Twas a human +body, that had come from the front of the house at the same instant in +which Philip had darted from along the side. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I choke him to assure silence?" Phil hurriedly asked himself, +and instinctively made to put his hands to the man's neck. But the +body under him began to wriggle, to kick out with its legs, and to lay +about with its hands. +</p> + +<p> +"What the hell d'yuh mean?" it gasped. "Git off o' me!" +</p> + +<p> +Philip scrambled promptly to his feet, having recognised the voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll stake my life, it's Meadows!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is, and who in the name of hellfire an' brimstone—?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Bill! Don't you know my voice? Let me help you up. There you +are. I'm Philip Winwood!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, so y'are, boy! Excuse the way I spoke. But what on airth—?" +</p> + +<p> +"No matter what I'm doing here. The thing is to get back to camp. +Come! Is the wharf a safe place for me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, at this hour of a dark night. But I'd like to know—" +</p> + +<p> +"Keep with me, then," whispered Philip, and made for the wharf, +holding the old watchman's arm. "Show me where there's a small boat. I +must row to the Jersey side at once, and then ride—by heaven, I wish +I might get a horse, over there, without going as far as Dan Ellis's! +I left mine with him." +</p> + +<p> +"Mebbe I can get you a hoss, yonder," said Meadows. "An' I reckon I +can row you round an' acrost, 'thout their plaguey ships a-spyin' us." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, by the Lord," said Philip, while Meadows began letting himself +down the side of the wharf to the skiff which he knew rode there upon +the black water, "'tis enough to make one believe in miracles, my +running into you! What were you doing out so late?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mum, sir! I was jest back from the same camp you're bound fur. +'Tain't five minutes since I crawled up out o' this yer skift." +</p> + +<p> +"What! And did you meet a party going the other way—toward our camp, +I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," replied Meadows, standing up in the boat and guiding the legs of +Philip as the latter descended from the wharf. "I watched 'em from the +patch o' woods beyont Westervelt's. I took 'em to be Major Lee's men, +or mebbe yours, from their caps and plumes; but I dunno: I couldn't +see well. But if they was goin' to the Morristown camp, they was goin' +by a roundabout way, fur they took the road to the right, at the fork +t'other side o' them woods!" +</p> + +<p> +"Good, if 'twas a British troop indeed! If I take the short road, I +may beat 'em. Caps and plumes like ours, eh! Here, I'll pull an oar, +too; and for God's sake keep clear of the British ships." +</p> + +<p> +"Trust me, cap'n. I guess they ain't shifted none since I come acrost +awhile ago. I'll land yuh nearest where we can get the hoss I spoke +of. 'Tis the beast 'ut brung me from the camp—but mum about that." +The two men moved at the oars, and the boat shot out from the sluggish +dock-water to the live current, down which it headed. "Don't you +consarn yerse'f about them ships—'tis the dark o' the moon an' a +cloudy night, an' as fur our course, I could <i>smell</i> it out, if it +come to that!" +</p> + +<p> +They rounded the end of the town, and turned into the Hudson, gliding +black over the surface of blackness. They pulled for some distance +against the stream, so as to land far enough above our post at Paulus +Hook. Going ashore in a little cove apparently well-known to Meadows, +they drew up the boat, and hastened inland. Meadows had led the way +about half a mile, when a dark mass composed of farmhouse and +outbuildings loomed up before them. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's where the hoss is; Pete Westervelt takes keer of him," +whispered the watchman, and strode, not to the stables, but to the +door of what appeared to be an outer kitchen, which he opened with a +key of his own. A friendly whinny greeted him from the narrow dark +space into which he disappeared. He soon came out, leading the horse +he used in his journeys to and from the American camp, and bearing +saddle and bridle on his arm. The two men speedily adjusted these, +whereupon Philip mounted. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring or send the beast back by night," said Meadows, handing over +the key, with which he had meanwhile relocked the door of his +improvised stable. "Hoss-flesh is damn' skeerce these times." This was +the truth, the needs of the armies having raised the price of a horse +to a fabulous sum. +</p> + +<p> +Philip promised to return the horse or its equivalent; gave a swift +acknowledgment of thanks, and a curt good-night; and made off, leaving +old Meadows to foot it, and row it, once more back to New York. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas now, till he should reach the camp, but a matter of steady +galloping, with ears alert for the sound of other hoof-beats, eyes +watchful at crossroads and open stretches for the party he hoped to +forestall. While he had had ways and means to think of, and had been +in peril of detection by the British, or in doubt of obtaining a horse +without a long trudge to Ellis's hut, his mind had been diverted from +the unhappy interview with Margaret. But now that swept back into his +thoughts, inundating his soul with grief and shame, of the utmost +degree of bitterness. These were the more complete from the +recollection of the joyous anticipations with which he had gone to +meet her. +</p> + +<p> +Contemplation of this contrast, sense of his desertion, overcame his +habitual resistance to self-pity, a feeling against which he was +usually on the stronger guard for his knowledge that it was a +concomitant of his inherent sensibility. He quite yielded to it for a +time; and though 'twas sharpened by his comparison of the Margaret he +had just left, with the pretty, soft-smiling Madge of other days, that +comparison eventually supplanted self-pity with pity for her, a +feeling no less laden with sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +He dared not think of what her perverseness might yet lead her to. For +himself he saw nothing but hopeless sorrow, unless she could be +brought back to her better self. But, alas, he by whose influence that +end might be achieved—for he could not believe that her heart had +quite cast him out—was flying from her, and years might pass ere he +should see her again: meanwhile, how intolerable would life be to him! +His heart, with the instinct of self-protection, sought some interest +in which it might find relief. +</p> + +<p> +He thought of the cause for which he was fighting. That must suffice; +it must take the place of wife and love. Cold, impersonal, inadequate +as it seemed now, he knew that in the end it would suffice to fill +great part of that inner heart which she had occupied. He turned to it +with the kindling affection which a man ever has for the resource that +is left him when he is scorned elsewhere. And he felt his ardour for +it fanned by his deepened hate for the opposing cause, a hate +intensified by the circumstance that his rival was of that cause. For +that rival's sake, he hated with a fresh implacability the whole royal +side and everything pertaining to it. He pressed his teeth together, +and resolved to make that side pay as dearly as lay in him to make it, +for what he had lost of his wife's love, and for what she had lost of +her probity. +</p> + +<p> +And the man himself, Falconer! 'Twas he that commanded this night's +wild attempt, if she had spoken truly. Well, Falconer should not +succeed this night, and Philip, with a kind of bitter elation, thanked +God 'twas through him that the attempt should be the more utterly +defeated. He patted his horse—a faithful beast that had known but a +short rest since it had travelled over the same road in the opposite +direction—and used all means to keep it at the best pace compatible +with its endurance. Forward it sped, in long, unvarying bounds, seeing +the road in the dark, or rather in the strange dusky light yielded by +the snow-covered earth and seeming rather to originate there than to +be reflected from the impenetrable obscurity overhead. +</p> + +<p> +From the attempt which he was bent upon turning into a ridiculous +abortion, if it lay in the power of man and horse to do so, Philip's +thoughts went to the object of that attempt, Washington himself. He +was thrilled at once with a greater love and admiration for that firm +soul maintaining always its serenity against the onslaughts of men and +circumstance, that soul so unshakable as to seem in the care of Fate +itself. Capture Washington! Philip laughed at the thought. +</p> + +<p> +And yet a British troop had seized General Charles Lee when he was the +rebels' second in command, and, in turn, a party of Yankees had taken +the British General Prescott from his quarters in Rhode Island. True, +neither of these officers was at the time of his seizure as safely +quartered and well guarded as Washington was now; but, on the other +hand, Margaret had spoken of treachery in the American camp. Who were +the traitors? Philip hoped he might find out their chief, at least. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long and hard ride, and more and more an up-hill one as it +neared its end. But Philip's thoughts made him so often unconscious of +his progress, and of the passage of the hours, that he finally +realised with a momentary surprise that he had reached a fork of the +road, near which he should come upon the rebel pickets, and that the +night was far spent. He might now take one road, and enter the camp at +its nearest point, but at a point far from Washington's headquarters; +or he might take the other road and travel around part of the camp, so +as to enter it at a place near the general's house. 'Twas at or near +the latter place that the enemy would try to enter, as they would +surely be so directed by the traitors within the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Heedless of the apparent advantage of alarming the camp at the +earliest possible moment, at whatever part of it he could then reach, +he felt himself impelled to choose the second road. He ever afterward +held that his choice of this seemingly less preferable road was the +result of a swift process of unconscious reasoning—for he maintained +that what we call intuition is but an instantaneous perception of +facts and of their inevitable inferences, too rapid for the reflective +part of the mind to record. +</p> + +<p> +He felt the pressure of time relaxed, for a troop of horse going by +the circuitous route Meadows had indicated could not have reached the +camp in the hours since they had passed the place where Meadows had +seen them. So he let his horse breathe wherever the road was broken by +ascents. At last he drew up, for a moment, upon an eminence which +gave, by daylight, a wide view of country. Much of this expanse being +clear of timber, and clad in snow, it yielded something to a +night-accustomed eye, despite the darkness. A low, far-off, steady, +snow-muffled beating, which had imperceptibly begun to play on +Winwood's ear, indicated a particular direction for his gaze. +Straining his senses, he looked. +</p> + +<p> +Against the dusky-white background of snow, he could make out an +indistinct, irregular, undulating line of moving dark objects. He +recognised this appearance as the night aspect of a distant band of +horsemen. They were travelling in a line parallel to his own. +Presently, he knew, they would turn toward him, and change their +linear appearance to that of a compact mass. But he waited not for +that. He gently bade his horse go on, and presently he turned straight +for the camp, having a good lead of the horsemen. +</p> + +<p> +He was passing a little copse at his right hand, when suddenly a dark +figure stepped from behind a tree into the road before him. Thinking +this was a soldier on picket duty, he recollected the word of the +night, and reined in to give it upon demand. But the man, having +viewed him as well as the darkness allowed, seemed to realise having +made a mistake, and, as suddenly as he had appeared, stalked back into +the wood. +</p> + +<p> +"What does this mean?" thought Philip; and then he remembered what +Margaret had said of treachery. Was this mysterious night-walker a +traitor posted there to aid the British to their object? +</p> + +<p> +"Stop or I'll shoot you down!" cried Philip, remembering too late that +he had parted with both his pistols at the Bowery lane guard-house. +</p> + +<p> +But the noise of the man's retreat through the undergrowth told that +he was willing to risk a shot. +</p> + +<p> +Philip knew the importance of obtaining a clue to the traitors. The +rebels had suffered considerably from treachery on their own side; had +been in much danger from the treason of Doctor Church at Boston; had +owed the speedier loss of their Fort Washington to that of Dumont; and +(many of them held) the retreat which Washington checked at Monmouth, +to the design of their General Charles Lee. So the capture of this +man, apart from its possible effect upon the present business, might +lead to the unearthing of a nest of traitors likely at some future +time, if not to-night, to menace the rebel cause. +</p> + +<p> +Philip leaped from his horse, and, trusting to the animal's manifest +habit of awaiting orders, stopped not to tie it, but plunged directly +into the wood, drawing his sword as he went. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of the man's flight had ceased, but Philip continued in the +direction it had first taken. He was about to cross a row of low +bushes, when he unexpectedly felt his ankle caught by a hand, and +himself thrown forward on his face. The man had crouched amongst the +bushes and tripped him up as he made to pass. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment, the man was on Philip's back, fumbling to grasp his +neck, and muttering: +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me who you are, quick! Who are you from? You don't wear the +dragoon cap, I see. Now speak the truth, or by God I'll shoot your +head off!" +</p> + +<p> +Philip knew, at the first word, the voice of Ned Faringfield. It took +him not an instant to perceive who was a chief—if not <i>the</i> +chief—traitor in the affair, or to solve what had long been to him +also a problem, that of Ned's presence in the rebel army. The +recognition of voice had evidently not been mutual; doubtless this was +because Philip's few words had been spoken huskily. Retaining his +hoarseness, and taking his cue from Ned's allusion to the dragoon cap, +he replied: +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis all right. You're our man, I see. Though I don't wear the +dragoon cap, I come from New York about Captain Falconer's business." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why the hell didn't you give the word?" said Ned, releasing his +pressure upon Philip's body. +</p> + +<p> +"You didn't ask for it. Get up—you're breaking my back." +</p> + +<p> +Ned arose, relieving Philip of all weight, but stood over him with a +pistol. +</p> + +<p> +"Then give it now," Ned commanded. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be hanged if you haven't knocked it clean out of my head," +replied Philip. "Let me think a moment—I have the cursedest memory." +</p> + +<p> +He rose with a slowness, and an appearance of weakness, both mainly +assumed. He still held his sword, which, happily for him, had turned +flat under him as he fell. When he was quite erect, he suddenly flung +up the sword so as to knock the pistol out of aim, dashed forward with +all his weight, and, catching Ned by the throat with both hands, bore +him down upon his side among the briars, and planted a knee upon his +neck. Instantly shortening his sword, he held the point close above +Ned's eye. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said Phil, "let that pistol fall! Let it fall, I say, or I'll +run my sword into your brain. That's well. You traitor, shall I kill +you now? or take you into camp and let you hang for your treason?" +</p> + +<p> +Ned wriggled, but finding that Philip held him in too resolved a +grasp, gave up. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it you, brother Phil?" he gasped. "Why, then, you lied; you said +you came from New York, about Falconer's business. I'd never have +thought <i>you'd</i> stoop to a mean deception!" +</p> + +<p> +"I think I'd better take you to hang," continued Philip. "If I kill +you now, we sha'n't get the names of the other traitors." +</p> + +<p> +"You wouldn't do such an unbrotherly act, Phil! I know you wouldn't. +You've too good a heart. Think of your wife, my sister—" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, the traitress!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then think of my father; think of the mouth that fed you—I mean the +hand that fed you! You'll let me go, Phil—sure you'll let me go. +Remember how we played together when we were boys. I'll give you the +names of the other traitors. I'm not so much to blame: I was lured +into this—lured by your wife—so help me God, I was—and you're +responsible for her, you know. <i>You</i> ought to be the last man in the +world—" +</p> + +<p> +Philip's mood had changed at thought of Ned's father; the old man's +pride of the name, his secret and perilous devotion to the rebel +cause: he deserved better of that cause than that his son should die +branded as a traitor to it; and better of Phil than that by his hand +that son should be slain. +</p> + +<p> +"How can you let me have the names without loss of time, if I let you +go, on condition of your giving our army a wide berth the rest of your +days?" Philip asked, turning the captive over upon his back. +</p> + +<p> +"I can do it in a minute, I swear," cried Ned. "Will you let me go if +I do?" +</p> + +<p> +"If I'm convinced they're the right names and all the names; but if +so, and I let you go, remember I'll see you hanged if you ever show +your face in our army again." +</p> + +<p> +"Rest easy on that. I take you at your word. The names are all writ +down in my pocketbook, with the share of money each man was to get. If +I was caught, I was bound the rest should suffer, too. The book is in +my waistcoat lining—there; do you feel it? Rip it out." +</p> + +<p> +Philip did so, and, sitting on Ned's chest, with a heel ready to beat +in his skull at a treacherous movement, contrived to strike a light +and verify by the brief flame of the tow the existence of a list of +names. As time was now of ever-increasing value, Philip took it for +granted that the list was really what Ned declared it. He then +possessed himself of Ned's pistol, and rose, intending to conduct him +as far as to the edge of the camp, and to release him only when Philip +should have given the alarm, so that Ned could not aid the approach of +Falconer's party. But Philip had no sooner communicated this intention +than Ned suddenly whipped out a second pistol from his coat pocket, in +which his hand had been busy for some time, and aimed at him. Thanks +to a spoiled priming, the hammer fell without effect. +</p> + +<p> +"You double traitor!" cried Philip, rushing upon Ned with threatening +sword. But Ned, with a curse, bent aside, and, before Philip could +bring either of his weapons into use, grappled with him for another +fall. The two men swayed together an instant; then Philip once more +shortened his sword and plunged the point into Ned's shoulder as both +came down together. +</p> + +<p> +"God damn your soul!" cried Ned, and for the time of a breath hugged +his enemy the tighter. But for the time of a breath only; the hold +then relaxed; and Philip, rising easily from the embrace of the limp +form, ran unimpeded to the road, mounted the waiting horse, and +galloped to the rebel lines. +</p> + +<p> +When our party, all the fatigue of the ride forgotten in a thrill of +expectation, reached the spot where Ned Faringfield was to join us, +our leader's low utterance of the signal, and our eager peerings into +the wood, met no response. As we stood huddled together, there broke +upon us from the front such a musketry, and there forthwith appeared +in the open country at our left such a multitude of mounted figures, +that we guessed ourselves betrayed, and foresaw ourselves surrounded +by a vastly superior force if we stayed for a demonstration. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis all up, gentlemen!" cried Captain Falconer, in a tone of +resignation, and without even an oath; whereupon we wheeled in +disappointment and made back upon our tracks; being pursued for some +miles, but finally abandoned, by the cavalry we had seen, which, as we +did not learn till long afterward, was led by Winwood. We left some +dead and wounded near the place where we had been taken by surprise; +and some whose horses had been hurt were made prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +For his conduct in all this business, an offer was made to Philip of +promotion to a majority; but he firmly declined it, saying that he +owed the news of our expedition to such circumstances that he chose +not, in his own person, to profit by it.<a href="#fn6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XIV"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIV. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>The Bad Shilling Turns up Once More in Queen Street.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +"This will be sad news to Mrs. Winwood, gentlemen," said Captain +Falconer to Tom and me, as we rode toward the place where we should +take the boats for New York. The day was well forward, but its gray +sunless light held little cheer for such a silent, dejected crew as we +were. +</p> + +<p> +The captain was too much the self-controlled gentleman to show great +disappointment on his own account, though he had probably set store +upon this venture, as an opportunity that he lacked in his regular +duties on General Clinton's staff, where he served pending the delayed +enlistment of the loyalist cavalry troop he had been sent over to +command. But though he might hide his own regrets, now that we were +nearing Margaret, it was proper to consider our failure with reference +to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless," he went on, "there was treachery against us somewhere; +for we cannot suppose such vigilance and preparation to be usual with +the rebels. But we must not hint as much to her. The leak may have +been, you see, through one of the instruments of her choosing—the man +Meadows, perhaps, or—" (He stopped short of mentioning Ned +Faringfield, whose trustworthiness on either side he was warranted, by +much that he had heard, in doubting.) "In any case," he resumed, +"'twould be indelicate to imply that her judgment of men, her +confidence in any one, could have been mistaken. We'd best merely tell +her, then, that the rebels were on the alert, and fell upon us before +we could meet her brother." +</p> + +<p> +We thought to find her with face all alive, expectant of the best +news, or at least in a fever of impatience, and that therefore 'twould +be the more painful to tell her the truth. But when the captain's +servant let the three of us in at the front door (Tom and I had waited +while Falconer briefly reported our fiasco to General Clinton) and we +found her waiting for us upon the stairs, her face was pale with a set +and tragic wofulness, as if tidings of our failure had preceded us. +There was, perhaps, an instant's last flutter of hope against hope, a +momentary remnant of inquiry, in her eyes; but this yielded to +despairing certainty at her first clear sight of our crestfallen +faces. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas all for nothing, then?" she said, with a quiet weariness which +showed that her battle with disappointment had been fought and had +left her tired out if not resigned. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said the captain, apparently relieved to discover that no storm +of disappointment or reproach was to be undergone. "They are too +watchful. We hadn't yet come upon your brother, when a heavy fire +broke out upon us. We were lucky to escape before they could surround +us. Nine of our men are missing." +</p> + +<p> +She gave a shudder, then came to us, kissed Tom with more than +ordinary tenderness, grasped my hand affectionately, and finally held +the captain's in a light, momentary clasp. +</p> + +<p> +"You did your best, I'm sure," she said, in a low voice, at the same +time flashing her eyes furtively from one to another as if to detect +whether we hid any part of the news. +</p> + +<p> +We were relieved and charmed at this resigned manner of receiving our +bad tidings, and it gave me, at least, a higher opinion of her +strength of character. This was partly merited, I make no doubt; +though I did not know then that she had reason to reproach herself for +our failure. +</p> + +<p> +"And that's all you have to tell?" she queried. "You didn't discover +what made them so ready for a surprise?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," replied the captain, casually. "Could there have been any +particular reason, think you? To my mind, they have had lessons enough +to make them watchful." +</p> + +<p> +She looked relieved. I suppose she was glad we should not know of her +interview with Philip, and of the imprudent taunts by which she +herself had betrayed the great design. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said she. "They may not be so watchful another time. We may +try again. Let us wait until I hear from Ned." +</p> + +<p> +But when she stole an interview with Bill Meadows, that worthy had no +communication from Ned; instead thereof, he had news that Captain +Faringfield had disappeared from the rebel camp, and was supposed by +some to have deserted to the British. Something that Meadows knew not +at the time, nor I till long after, was of the treasonable plot +unearthed in the rebel army, and that two or three of the participants +had been punished for the sake of example, and the less guilty ones +drummed out of the camp. This was the result of Philip's presentation +to General Washington of the list of names obtained from Ned, some of +the men named therein having confessed upon interrogation. Philip's +account of the affair made it appear to Washington that his discovery +was due to his accidental meeting with Ned Faringfield, and that +Faringfield's escape was but the unavoidable outcome of the +hand-to-hand fight between the two men—for Philip had meanwhile +ascertained, by a personal search, that Ned had not been too severely +hurt to make good his flight. +</p> + +<p> +Well, there passed a Christmas, and a New Year, in which the +Faringfield house saw some revival of the spirit of gladness that had +formerly prevailed within its comfortable walls at that season. Mr. +Faringfield, who had grown more gray and taciturn each year, mellowed +into some resemblance to his former benevolent, though stately, self. +He had not yet heard of Ned's treason. His lady, still graceful and +slender, resumed her youth. Fanny, who had ever forced herself to the +diffusion of merriment when there was cheerlessness to be dispelled, +reflected with happy eyes the old-time jocundity now reawakened. My +mother, always a cheerful, self-reliant, outspoken soul, imparted the +cordiality of her presence to the household, and both Tom and I +rejoiced to find the old state of things in part returned. Margaret, +perhaps for relief from her private dejection, took part in the +household festivities with a smiling animation that she had not +vouchsafed them in years; and Captain Falconer added to their gaiety +by his charming wit, good-nature, and readiness to please. Yet he, I +made no doubt, bore within him a weight of dashed hopes, and could +often have cursed when he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +The happy season went, leaving a sweeter air in the dear old house +than had filled it for a long time. All that was missing, it seemed to +us who knew not yet as much as Margaret knew, was the presence of +Philip. Well, the war must end some day, and then what a happy +reunion! By that time, if Heaven were kind, I thought, the charm of +Captain Falconer would have lost power over Margaret's inclinations, +and all would be well that ended well. +</p> + +<p> +One night in January, we had sat very late at cards in the Faringfield +parlour, and my mother had just cried out, "Dear bless me, look at the +clock!"—when there sounded a dull, heavy pounding upon the rear hall +door. There were eight of us, at the two card-tables: Mr. Faringfield +and his lady, my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Mr. Cornelius, Tom, and +myself. And every one of us, looking from face to face, showed the +same thought, the same recognition of that half-cowardly, half-defiant +thump, though for so long we had not heard it. How it knocked away the +years, and brought younger days rushing back upon us! +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield's face showed a sweep of conjectures, ranging from +that of Ned's being in New York in service of his cause, to that of +his being there as a deserter from it. Margaret flushed a moment, and +then composed herself with an effort, for whatever issue this +unexpected arrival might portend. The rest of us waited in a mere +wonder touched with the old disquieting dread of painful scenes. +</p> + +<p> +Old Noah, jealous of the single duty that his years had left him, and +resentful of its frequent usurpation by Falconer's servant, always +stayed up to attend the door till the last of the family had retired. +We now heard him shuffling through the hall, heard the movement of the +lock, and then instantly a heavy tread that covered the sound of +Noah's. The parlour door from the hall was flung open, and in strode +the verification of our thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Ned's clothes were briar-torn and mud-spattered; his face was haggard, +his hair unkempt, his left shoulder humped up and held stiff. He +stopped near the door, and stared from face to face, frowning because +of the sudden invasion of his eyes by the bright candlelight. When his +glance fell upon Margaret, it rested; and thereupon, just as if he +were not returned from an absence of three years and more, and +heedless of the rest of us, confining his address to her alone, he +bellowed, with a most malignant expression of face and voice: +</p> + +<p> +"So you played a fine game with us, my lady—luring us into the dirty +scheme, and then turning around and setting your husband on us in the +act! I see through it all now, you underhanded, double-dealing slut!" +</p> + +<p> +"Are you speaking to me, sir?" asked Margaret, with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I am; and don't think I'll hold my tongue because of these +people. Let 'em hear it all, I don't care. It's all up now, and I'm a +hanged man if ever I go near the American camp again. But I'm safe +here in New York, though I was damn' near being shot when I first came +into the British lines. But I've been before General Knyphausen,<a href="#fn7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> +and been identified, and been acknowledged by your Captain Falconer as +the man that worked your cursed plot at t'other end; and I've been let +go free—though I'm under watch, no doubt. So you see there's naught +to hinder me exposing you for what you are—the woman that mothered a +British plot, and worked her trusting brother into it, and then +betrayed him to her husband." +</p> + +<p> +"That's a lie!" cried Margaret, crimson in the face. +</p> + +<p> +"What does all this mean?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, rising. +</p> + +<p> +Paying no attention to his father, Edward retorted upon Margaret, who +also rose, and who stood between him and the rest of us: +</p> + +<p> +"A lie, is it? Perhaps you can make General Knyphausen and Captain +Falconer believe that, now I've told 'em whose cursed husband it was +that attacked me at the meeting-place, and alarmed the camp. You +didn't think I'd live to tell the tale, did you? You thought to hear +of my being hanged, and your husband promoted for his services, and so +two birds killed with one stone! But providence had a word to say +about that. The Lord is never on the side of plotters and traitors, +let me tell you, and here I am to outface you. A lie, is it? A lie +that your husband spoiled the scheme? Why, you brazen hussy, he came +from New York that very night—he told me so himself! He had seen you, +and you had told him all, I'll lay a thousand guineas!" +</p> + +<p> +'Twas at the time a puzzle to me that Margaret should condescend to +explanations with him as she forthwith did. But I now see how, +realising that proofs of Philip's visit might turn up and seem to bear +out Ned's accusation, she must have felt the need of putting herself +instantly right with Tom and me, lest she might eventually find +herself wrong with General Clinton and Captain Falconer. +</p> + +<p> +"I own that Philip saw me that night," she said, with a self-control +compelled by her perilous situation. "He came here by stealth, and +took me by surprise. He found reason to suspect our plot, but till now +I never knew 'twas really he that put the rebels on their guard. I +thought he would be too late. 'Twas through no intention of mine that +he guessed what was afoot. I never told Tom and Bert" (these words +were meant for our ears) "—or Captain Falconer—of his visit, for +fear they might think, as you seem to, that I was to blame. That's all +the truth, and we shall see whether Captain Falconer will believe you +or me." +</p> + +<p> +Here Mr. Faringfield, whose patience at being so far ignored, though +'twas supported by the hope of receiving the desired enlightenment +from their mutual speeches, was at length exhausted, put in with some +severity. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, let us into these mysteries, one of you. Margaret, what is it I +hear, of a visit from Philip? of a British plot? By heaven, if I +thought—but explain the matter, if you please." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no right to," said she, her face more and more suffused with +red. "'Tis not my secret alone; others are concerned." +</p> + +<p> +"It appears," rejoined Mr. Faringfield, "it is a secret that abides in +my house, and therefore I have a right to its acquaintance. I command +you to explain." +</p> + +<p> +"Command?" she echoed lightly, with astonishment. "Is a married woman +subject to her father's commands?" +</p> + +<p> +"An inmate of my house is subject to my commands," he replied, +betraying his hidden wrath by a dark look. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," said she. "That part of the house which Philip +has paid, or will pay, for my living in, is my own, for the time +being. I shall go there—" +</p> + +<p> +"You shall not leave this room," cried her father, stalking toward the +door. "You fall back upon Philip's name. Very well, he has delegated +the care of you to me in his absence. 'Tis time I should represent his +authority over you, when I hear of your plotting against his country." +</p> + +<p> +"I have a right to be loyal to the king, above the authority of a +husband." +</p> + +<p> +"If your loyalty extends to plotting against your husband's cause, you +have not the right under my roof—or under Philip Winwood's part of +it. I will know what this scheme is, that you have been engaged in." +</p> + +<p> +"Not from me!" said Margaret, with a resolution that gave a new, +unfamiliar aspect to so charmingly feminine a creature. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, let her alone, father," put in Ned, ludicrously ready for the +faintest opportunity either to put his father under obligation or to +bring down Margaret. "I'll be frank with you. I've no reason to hide +what's past and gone. She and Captain Falconer had a plan to make +Washington a prisoner, by a night expedition from New York, and some +help in our camp—" +</p> + +<p> +"Which you were to give, I see, you treacherous scoundrel!" said his +father, with contempt. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, now, no hard names, sir. You see, several of us—some good +patriots, too, with the country's best interests at heart—couldn't +swallow this French alliance; we saw that if we ever did win by it, we +should only be exchanging tyrants of our own blood for tyrants of +frog-eaters. We began to think England would take us back on good +terms if the war could be ended; and we considered the state of the +country, the interests of trade—indeed, 'twas chiefly the thought of +<i>your</i> business, the hope of seeing it what it once was, that drove +<i>me</i> into the thing." +</p> + +<p> +"You wretched hypocrite!" interposed Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well; misunderstand me, as usual. Call me names, if you like. I'm +only telling the truth, and what you wished to know—what <i>she</i> +wouldn't tell you. I'm not as bad as some; I can up and confess, when +all's over. Well, as I was about to say, we had everything ready, and +the night was set; and then, all of a sudden, Phil Winwood swoops down +on me; treats me in a most unbrotherly fashion, I must say" (Ned cast +an oblique look at his embarrassed shoulder); "and alarmed the camp. +And when the British party rode up, instead of catching Washington +they caught hell. And I leave it to you, sir, whether your daughter +there, after playing the traitor to her husband's cause, for the sake +of her lover; didn't turn around and play the traitor to her own game, +for the benefit of her husband, and the ruin of her brother. Such +damnableness!" +</p> + +<p> +"'For the sake of her lover,'" Mr. Faringfield repeated. "What do you +mean by that, sir?" The phrase, indeed, had given us all a +disagreeable start. +</p> + +<p> +"What I say, sir. How could he be otherwise? I guessed it before; and +I became sure of it this evening, from the way he spoke of her at +General Knyphausen's quarters." +</p> + +<p> +"What a lie!" cried Margaret. "Captain Falconer is a gentleman; he's +not of a kind to talk about women who have given him no reason to do +so. 'Tis ridiculous! You maligning villain!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, 'twasn't what he said, my dear; 'twas his manner whenever he +mentioned you. When a man like him handles a woman's name so +delicate-like, as if 'twas glass and might break—so grave-like, as if +she was a sacred subject—it means she's put herself on his +generosity." +</p> + +<p> +Margaret affected a derisive laugh, as at her brother's pretensions to +wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know all the stages," he continued, watching her with a +malicious calmness of self-confidence. "When gentry of his sort are +first struck with a lady, but not very deep, they speak out their +admiration bold and gallant; when they find they're hit seriously, but +haven't made sure of her, they speak of her with make-believe +carelessness or mere respect: they don't like to show how far gone +they are. But when she's come to an understanding with 'em, and put +'em under obligations and responsibilities—it's only then they touch +her name so tender and considerate, as if it was so fragile. But that +stage doesn't last for ever, my young lady—bear that in mind!" +</p> + +<p> +"You insolent wretch!" said Margaret, ready to cry with rage and +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +"This is outrageous," ventured Mrs. Faringfield, daring to look her +indignation at Ned. "William, how can you tolerate such things said +about your daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Faringfield had been studying his daughter's countenance all +the while. Alas for Margaret, she had never given pains to the art of +dissimulation, or taken the trouble to learn hypocrisy, or even +studied self-control: a negligence common to beauties, who rely upon +their charms to carry them through all emergencies without resort to +shifts. She was equal to a necessary lie that had not to be maintained +with labour, or to a pretence requiring little effort and encountering +no suspicion, but to the concealment of her feelings when she was +openly put to the question, her powers were inadequate. If ever a +human face served its owner ill, by apparently confessing guilt, where +only folly existed, Margaret's did so now. +</p> + +<p> +"What I may think of the rascal who says these things," replied Mr. +Faringfield, with the unnatural quietness that betrays a tumult of +inward feelings, "I will tolerate them till I am sure they are false." +His eyes were still fixed on Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +"What!" said she, a little hysterically. "Do you pay attention to the +slanders of such a fellow? To an accusation like that, made on the +mere strength of a gentleman's manner of mentioning me?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, but I pay attention to your manner of receiving the accusation: +your telltale face, your embarrassment—" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis my anger—" +</p> + +<p> +"There's an anger of innocence, and an anger of guilt. I would your +anger had shown more of contempt than of confusion." Alas! he knew +naught of half-guilt and <i>its</i> manifestations. +</p> + +<p> +"How can you talk so?—I won't listen—such insulting +innuendoes!—even if you are my father—why, this knave himself says I +betrayed Captain Falconer's scheme: how could he think that, if—" +</p> + +<p> +"That proves nothing," said Ned, with a contemptuous grin. "Women do +unaccountable things. A streak of repentance, maybe; or a lovers' +quarrel. The point is, a woman like you wouldn't have entered into a +scheme like that, with a man like him, if there hadn't already been a +pretty close understanding of another kind. Oh, I know your whole +damn' sex, begad!—no offence to these other ladies." +</p> + +<p> +"William, this is scandalous!" cried Mrs. Faringfield. My mother, too, +looked what it was not her place to speak. As for Tom and me, we had +to defer to Mr. Faringfield; and so had Cornelius, who was very +solemn, with an uneasy frown between his white eyebrows. Poor Fanny, +most sensitive to disagreeable scenes, sat in self-effacement and mute +distress. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield, not replying to his wife, took a turn up and down the +room, apparently in great mental perplexity and dismay. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he was a transformed man. Pale with wrath, his lips moving +spasmodically, his arms trembling, he turned upon Margaret, grasped +her by the shoulders, and in a choked, half-articulate voice demanded: +</p> + +<p> +"Tell the truth! Is it so—this shame—crime? Speak! I will shake the +truth from you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Father! Don't!" she screamed, terrified by his look; and from his +searching gaze, she essayed to hide, by covering her face with her +hands, the secret her conscience magnified so as to forbid confession +and denial alike. I am glad to recall this act of womanhood, which +showed her inability to brazen all accusation out. +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Faringfield saw no palliating circumstance in this evidence of +womanly feeling. Seeing in it only an admission of guilt, he raised +his arms convulsively for a moment as if he would strike her down with +his hands, or crush her throat with them. But, overcoming this +impulse, he drew back so as to be out of reach of her, and said, in a +low voice shaken with passion: +</p> + +<p> +"Go! From my house, I mean—my roof—and from Philip's part of it. +God! that a child of mine should plot against my country, for +England—that was enough; but to be false to her husband, too—false +to Philip! I will own no such treason! I turn you out, I cast you off! +Not another hour in my house, not another minute! You are not my +daughter, not Philip's wife!—You are a thing I will not name! We +disown you. Go, I bid you; let me never see you again!" +</p> + +<p> +She had not offered speech or motion; and she continued to stand +motionless, regarding her father in fear and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you to leave this house!" he added, in a slightly higher and +quicker voice. "Do you wait for me to thrust you out?" +</p> + +<p> +She slowly moved toward the door. But her mother ran and caught her +arm, and stood between her and Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +"William!" said the lady. "Consider—the poor child—your favourite, +she was—you mustn't send her out. I'm sure Philip wouldn't have you +do this, for all she might seem guilty of." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, the lad is too kind of heart. So much the worse her treason to +him! She <i>shall</i> go; and you, madam, will not interfere. 'Tis for me +to command. Be pleased to step aside!" +</p> + +<p> +His passion had swiftly frozen into an implacable sternness which +struck fear to the childish heart of his wife, and she obeyed him +dumbly. Dropping weakly upon a chair, she added her sobs to those of +Fanny, which had begun to break plaintively upon the tragic silence. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret raised her glance from the floor, in a kind of wistful +leave-taking, to us who looked on and pitied her. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, sir," began Mr. Cornelius softly, rising and taking a step +toward Mr. Faringfield. But the latter cut his good intention short, +by a mandatory gesture and the harshly spoken words: +</p> + +<p> +"No protests, sir; no intercessions. I am aware of what I do." +</p> + +<p> +"But at midnight, sir. Think of it. Where can she find shelter at this +hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why," put in my mother, "in my house, and welcome, if she <i>must</i> +leave this one." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Mrs. Russell," said Margaret, in a stricken voice. "For +the time being, I shall be glad—" +</p> + +<p> +"For all time, if you wish," replied my mother. "And we shall have +your things moved over tomorrow." +</p> + +<p> +"By the Lord, sis," cried Ned, with a sudden friendliness quite +astonishing after the part he had taken, and to be accounted for only +by the idea that had struck him, "here's a blessing in disguise! +There's a ship sails next Wednesday—so I found out this evening—and +damn me if you sha'n't go to London with me! That's the kind of a +forgiving brother I am!" +</p> + +<p> +She had utterly ignored his first words, but when he reached the +point, she looked at him thoughtfully, with a check upon her +resentment. She made no reply, however; but he had not missed her +expression. Tom and I exchanged side glances, remembering Ned's former +wish that he might imitate his Irish friend by taking his sister to +London to catch a fortune with. As for Margaret, as matters stood, it +would be something to go to London, relying on her beauty. I fancied I +saw that thought in her look. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Faringfield, who had heard with cold heedlessness my mother's +offer and Ned's, now rang the bell. Noah appeared, with a sad, +affrighted face—he had been listening at the door—and cast a furtive +glance at Margaret, in token of commiseration. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring Mrs. Winwood's cloak," said Mr. Faringfield to the old negro. +"Then open the door for her and Mr. Edward." +</p> + +<p> +While Noah was absent on this errand, and Margaret waited passively, +Tom went to her, kissed her cheek, and then came away without a word. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear," said Mrs. +Faringfield, in tears, "and we can see you every day." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, for the present," replied Margaret, who did not weep, but +spoke in a singularly gentle voice. +</p> + +<p> +"And I, too, for to-night, with my best thanks," added Ned, who had +not been invited, but whom my mother preferred not to refuse. +</p> + +<p> +Noah brought in the cloak, and placed it around Madge with an unusual +attentiveness, prolonging the slight service to its utmost possible +length, and keeping an eye for any sign of relenting on the part of +his master. +</p> + +<p> +My mother and I stood waiting for Margaret, while Mrs. Faringfield and +Fanny weepingly embraced her. That done, and with a good-night for Tom +and Mr. Cornelius, but not a word or a look for her father, who stood +as silent and motionless as marble, she laid her hand softly upon my +arm, and we went forth, leaving my mother to the unwelcome escort of +Ned. The door closed upon us four—'twas the last time it ever closed +upon one of us—and in a few seconds we were at our steps. And who +should come along at that moment, on his way to his quarters, but +Captain Falconer? He stopped, in pleased surprise, and, peering at our +faces in the darkness, asked in his gay, good-natured way what fun was +afoot. +</p> + +<p> +"Not much fun," said Margaret. "I have just left my father's house, at +his command." +</p> + +<p> +He stood in a kind of daze. As it was very cold, we bade him good +night, and went in. Reopening the door, and looking out, I saw him +proceeding homeward, his head averted in a meditative attitude. I knew +not till the next day what occurred when he arrived in the Faringfield +hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir," said Tom Faringfield, stepping forth from where he had been +leaning against the stair-post, "I must speak low, because my parents +and sister are in the parlour there, and I don't wish them to hear—" +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart," replied Falconer. "Won't you come into my room, +and have a glass of wine?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. If I had a glass of wine, I should only waste it by throwing +it in your face. All I have to say is, that you are a scoundrel, and I +desire an opportunity to kill you as soon as may be—" +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, tut, my dear lad—" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll think of a pretext, and send my friend to you to-morrow," added +Tom, and, turning his back, went quietly up-stairs to his room; where, +having locked the door, he fell face forward upon his bed, and cried +like a heart-broken child. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XV"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XV. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>In Which There Is a Flight by Sea, and a Duel by Moonlight.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +It appeared, from Ned Faringfield's account of himself, that after his +encounter with Philip, and his fall from the shock of his wound, he +had awakened to a sense of being still alive, and had made his way to +the house of a farmer, whose wife took pity on him and nursed him in +concealment to recovery. He then travelled through the woods to Staten +Island, where, declaring himself a deserter from the rebel army, he +demanded to be taken before the British commander. +</p> + +<p> +Being conveyed to headquarters in the Kennedy House, near the bottom +of the Broadway, he told his story, whereupon witnesses to his +identity were easily found, and, Captain Falconer having been brought +to confront him, he was released from bodily custody. He must have had +a private interview with Falconer, and, perhaps, obtained money from +him, before he came to the Faringfield house to vent his +disappointment upon Madge. Or else he had got money from some other +source; he may have gambled with what part of his pay he received in +the early campaigns. He may, on some occasion, have safely violated +Washington's orders against private robbery under the cover of war. He +may have had secret dealings with the "Skinners" or other unattached +marauders. In any case, his assured manner of offering Madge a passage +to England with him, showed that he possessed the necessary means. +</p> + +<p> +He had instantly recognised a critical moment of Madge's life, the +moment when she found herself suddenly deprived of all resource but a +friendly hospitality which she was too proud to make long use of, as a +heaven-sent occasion for his ends. At another time, he would not have +thought of making Madge his partner in an enterprise like the +Irishman's—he feared her too much, and was too sensible of her +dislike and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +He set forth his scheme to her the next day, taking her acquiescence +for granted. She listened quietly, without expressing her thoughts; +but she neither consented nor refused. Ned, however, made full +arrangements for their voyage; considering it the crowning godsend of +a providential situation, that a vessel was so soon to make the trip, +notwithstanding the unlikely time of year. When Margaret's things were +brought over to our house, he advised her to begin packing at once, +and he even busied himself in procuring additional trunks from his +mother and mine, that she might be able to take all her gowns to +London. The importance of this, and of leaving none of her jewelry +behind, he most earnestly impressed upon her. +</p> + +<p> +Yet she did not immediately set about packing, Ned probably had +moments of misgiving, and of secret cursing, when he feared he might +be reckoning without his host. The rest of us, at the time, knew +nothing of what passed between the two: he pretended that the extra +trunks were for some mysterious baggage of his own: nor did we then +know what passed between her and Captain Falconer late in the day, and +upon which, indeed, her decision regarding Ned's offer depended. +</p> + +<p> +She had watched at our window for the captain's passing. When at +length he appeared, she was standing so close to the glass, her eyes +so unmistakably met his side-look, that he could not pretend he had +not seen her. As he bowed with most respectful civility, she beckoned +him with a single movement of a finger, and went, herself, to let him +in. When he had followed her into our parlour, his manner was +outwardly of the most delicate consideration, but she thought she saw +beneath it a certain uneasiness. They spoke awhile of her removal from +her father's house; but he avoided question as to its cause, or as to +her intentions. At last, she said directly, with assumed lightness: +</p> + +<p> +"I think of going to London with my brother, on the <i>Phoebe</i> ." +</p> + +<p> +She was watching him closely: his face brightened wonderfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I vow, you could do nothing better," he said. "<i>There</i> is <i>your</i> +world. I've always declared you were a stranger in this far-off land. +'Tis time you found your proper element. I can't help confessing it; +'tis due to you I should confess it—though alas for us whom you leave +in New York!" +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a moment, with a slight curling of the lip; +witnessed his recovery from the fear that she might throw herself upon +his care; saw his comfort at being relieved of a possible burden he +was not prepared to assume; and then said, very quietly: +</p> + +<p> +"I think Mrs. Russell is coming. You had best go." +</p> + +<p> +With a look of gallant adoration, he made to kiss her hand first. But +she drew it away, and put her finger to her lip, as if to bid him +depart unheard. When he had left the house, she fell upon the sofa and +wept, but only for wounded vanity, for chagrin that she had exposed +her heart to one of those gentry who will adore a woman until there is +danger of her becoming an embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +Before long, she arose, and dried her eyes, and went up-stairs to pack +her trunks. Thus ended this very light affair of the heart; which had +so heavy consequences for so many people. +</p> + +<p> +But Captain Falconer's inward serenity was not to escape with this +unexpectedly easy ordeal. When he reached his room, he found me +awaiting him, as the representative of Tom Faringfield. I had, in +obedience to my sense of duty, put forth a few conventional +dissuasions against Tom's fighting the captain; and had presumed to +hint that I was nearer to him in years and experience than Tom was. +But the boy replied with only a short, bitter laugh at the assured +futility of my attempts. Plainly, if there was to be fighting over +this matter, I ought not to seek a usurpation of Tom's right. And +fighting there would be, I knew, whether I said yea or nay. Since Tom +must have a second, that place was mine. And I felt, too, with a young +man's foolish faith in poetic justice, that the right must win; that +his adversary's superiority in age—and therefore undoubtedly in +practice, Falconer being the man he was—would not avail against an +honest lad avenging the probity of a sister. And so I yielded +countenance to the affair, and went, as soon as my duty permitted, to +wait upon Captain Falconer. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said he, when I had but half told my errand, "I was led to +expect this. The young gentleman called me a harsh name, which I'm +willing to overlook. But he finds himself aggrieved, and, knowing him +as I do, I make no doubt he will not be content till we have a bout or +two. If I refuse, he will dog me, I believe, and make trouble for both +of us, till I grant him what he asks. So the sooner 'tis done, the +better, I suppose. But lookye, Mr. Russell, 'tis sure to be an +embarrassing business. If one or other of us <i>should</i> be hurt, there'd +be the devil to pay, you know. I dare say the General would be quite +obdurate, and go the whole length of the law. There's that to be +thought of. Have a glass of wine, and think of it." +</p> + +<p> +Tom and I had already thought of it. We had been longer in New York +than the captain had, and we knew how the embarrassment to which he +alluded could be provided against. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis very simple," said I, letting him drink alone, which it was not +easy to do, he was still so likeable a man. "We can go from +Kingsbridge as if we meant to join Captain De Lancey in another of his +raids. And we can find some spot outside the lines; and if any one is +hurt, we can give it out as the work of rebel irregulars who attacked +us." +</p> + +<p> +He regarded me silently a moment, and then said the plan seemed a good +one, and that he would name a second with whom I could arrange +details. Whereupon, dismissing the subject with a civil expression of +regret that Tom should think himself affronted, he went on to speak of +the weather, as if a gentleman ought not to treat a mere duel as a +matter of deep concern. +</p> + +<p> +I came away wishing it were not so hard to hate him. The second with +whom I at length conferred—for our duties permitted not a prompt +despatching of the affair, and moreover Captain Falconer's disposition +was to conduct it with the gentlemanly leisure its pretended +unimportance allowed—was Lieutenant Hugh Campbell, one of several +officers of that name who served in the Highland regiment that had +been stationed earlier at Valentine's Hill; he therefore knew the +debatable country beyond Kingsbridge as well as I. He was a mere +youth, a serious-minded Scot, and of a different sort from Captain +Falconer: 'twas one of the elegant captain's ways, and evidence of his +breadth of mind, to make friends of men of other kinds than his own. +Young Campbell and I, comparing our recollections of the country, +found that we both knew of a little open hollow hidden by thickets, +quite near the Kingsbridge tavern, which would serve the purpose. +Captain Falconer's duties made a daylight meeting difficult to +contrive without exposing his movements to curiosity, and other +considerations of secrecy likewise preferred a nocturnal affair. We +therefore planned that the four of us, and an Irish surgeon named +McLaughlin, should appear at the Kingsbridge tavern at ten o'clock on +a certain night for which the almanac promised moonlight, and should +repair to the meeting-place when the moon should be high enough to +illumine the hollow. The weapons were to be rapiers. The preliminary +appearance at the tavern was to save a useless cold wait in case one +of the participants should, by some freak of duty, be hindered from +the appointment; in which event, or in that of a cloudy sky, the +matter should be postponed to the next night, and so on. +</p> + +<p> +The duel was to occur upon a Wednesday night. On that afternoon I was +in the town, having carried some despatches from our outpost to +General De Lancey, and thence to General Knyphausen; and I was free +for a few minutes to go home and see my mother. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think?" she began, handing me a cup of tea as soon as I +had strode to the parlour fire-place. +</p> + +<p> +"I think this hot tea is mighty welcome," said I, "and that my left +ear is nigh frozen. What else?" +</p> + +<p> +"Margaret has gone," she replied, beginning to rub my ear vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone! Where?" I looked around as if to make sure there was no sign of +her in the room. +</p> + +<p> +"With Ned—on the <i>Phoebe</i> ." +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce! How could you let her do it—you, and her mother, and +Fanny?" +</p> + +<p> +"We didn't know. I took some jelly over to old Miss Watts—she's very +feeble—and Madge and Ned went while I was out; they had their trunks +carted off at the same time. 'Twasn't for an hour or two I became +curious why she kept her room, as I thought; and when I went up to +see, the room was empty. There were two letters there from her, one to +me and one to her mother. She said she left in that way, to save the +pain of farewells, and to avoid our useless persuasions against her +going. Isn't it terrible?—poor child! Why it seems only yesterday—" +And my good mother's lips drew suddenly down at the corners, and she +began to sniff spasmodically. +</p> + +<p> +"But is it too late?" I asked, in a suddenly quieted voice. That the +brightness and beauty of Madge, which had been a part of my world +since I could remember, should have gone from about us, all in a +moment!—'twas a new thought, and a strange one. What a blank she +left, what a dulness! +</p> + +<p> +"Too late, heaven knows!" said my mother, drying her eyes with a +handkerchief, and speaking brokenly. "As soon as Mrs. Faringfield read +the letters, which I had taken over at once, Fanny and Mr. Cornelius +started running for the wharves. But when they got there, the <i>Phoebe</i> +wasn't in sight. It had sailed immediately their trunks were aboard, I +suppose. Oh, to think of pretty Madge—what will become of her in that +great, bad London?" +</p> + +<p> +"She has made her plans, no doubt, and knows what she is doing," said +I, with a little bitterness. "Poor Phil! Her father is much to blame." +</p> + +<p> +When I told Tom, as soon as I reached the outpost, he gave a sudden, +ghastly, startled look; then collected himself, and glanced at the +sword with which he meant to fight that night. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I was afraid she would go," said he, in a strained voice; and +that was all. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever I saw him during the rest of the evening, he was silent, +pale, a little shaky methought. He was not as I had been before my +maiden duel: blustering and gay, in a trance-like recklessness; +assuming self-confidence so well as to deceive even myself and carry +me buoyantly through. He seemed rather in suspense like that of a +lover who has to beg a stern father for a daughter's hand. As a slight +hurt will cause a man the greatest pain, and a severe injury produce +no greater, so will the apprehensions of a trivial ordeal equal in +effect those of a matter of life and death; there being a limit to +possible sensation, beyond which nature leaves us happily numb. +Sometimes, upon occasion, Tom smiled, but with a stiffness of +countenance; when he laughed, it was in a short, jerky, mechanical +manner. As for me, I was in different mood from that preceding my own +first trial of arms: I was now overcast in spirit, tremulous, full of +misgivings. +</p> + +<p> +The moon did not disappoint us as we set out for the tavern. There +were but a few fleecy clouds, and these not of an opaqueness to darken +its beams when they passed across it. The snow was frozen hard in the +fields, and worn down in the road. The frost in the air bit our +nostrils, and we now and again worked our countenances into strange +grimaces, to free them from the sensation of being frozen hard. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a beautiful night," said Tom, speaking in more composure than he +had shown during the early evening. The moonlight had a calming +effect, as the clear air had a bracing one. His eyes roamed the sky, +and then the moonlit, snow-clad earth—hillock and valley, wood and +pond, solitary house bespeaking indoor comfort, and a glimpse of the +dark river in the distance—and he added: +</p> + +<p> +"What a fine world it is!" +</p> + +<p> +When we entered the warm tap-room of the tavern—the house above +Kingsbridge, outside the barriers where the passes were examined and +the people searched who were allowed entrance and departure; not +Hyatt's tavern, South of the bridge—we found a number of subalterns +there, some German, some British, some half-drunk, some playing cards. +Our Irish surgeon sat in a corner, reading a book—I think 'twas a +Latin author—by the light of a tallow candle. He nodded to us +indifferently, as if he had no engagement with us, and continued to +read. Tom and I ordered a hot rum punch mixed for us, and stood at the +bar to drink it. +</p> + +<p> +"You look pale and shaky, you two," said the tavern-keeper, who +himself waited upon us. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis the cold," said I. "We're not all of your constitution, to walk +around in shirt-sleeves this weather." +</p> + +<p> +"Why," says the landlord, "I go by the almanac. 'Tis time for the +January thaw, 'cordin' to that. Something afoot to-night, eh? One o' +them little trips up the river, or out East Chester way, with De +Lancey's men, I reckon?" +</p> + +<p> +We said nothing, but wisely looked significant, and the host grinned. +</p> + +<p> +"More like 'tis a matter of wenches," put in a half-drunken ensign +standing beside us at the bar. "That's the only business to bring a +gentleman out such a cursed night. Damn such a vile country, cold as +hell in winter, and hot as hell in summer! Damn it and sink it! and +fill up my glass, landlord. Roast me dead if <i>I</i> stick <i>my</i> nose +outdoors to-night!" +</p> + +<p> +"A braw, fine nicht, the nicht, gentlemen," said a sober, ruddy-faced +Scot, very gravely, with a lofty contempt for the other's remarks. +"Guid, hamelike weather." +</p> + +<p> +But the feelings and thoughts prevailing in the tap-room were not in +tune with those agitating our hearts, and as soon as Captain Falconer +and his friend came in, we took our leave, exchanging a purposely +careless greeting with the newcomers. We turned in silence from the +road, crossed a little sparsely wooded hill, and arrived in the +thicket-screened hollow. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas in silence we had come. I had felt there was much I would like, +and ought, to say, but something in Tom's mood or mine, or in the +situation, benumbed my thoughts so they would not come forth, or +jumbled them so I knew not where to begin. Arrived upon the ground +with a palpitating sense of the nearness of the event, we found +ourselves still less fit for utterance of the things deepest in our +minds. +</p> + +<p> +"There'll be some danger of slipping on the frozen snow," said I, +trying to assume a natural, even a cheerful, tone. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis an even danger to both of us," said Tom, speaking quickly to +maintain a steadiness of voice, as a drunken man walks fast to avoid a +crookedness of gait. +</p> + +<p> +While we were tramping about to keep warm, the Irish surgeon came to +us through the bushes, vowing 'twas "the divvle's own weather, shure +enough, barrin' the hivvenly moonlight." Opening his capacious +greatcoat, he brought from concealment a small case, which Tom eyed +askance, and I regarded ominously, though it had but a mere +professional aspect to its owner. +</p> + +<p> +We soon heard the tread, and the low but easy voices, of Captain +Falconer and Lieutenant Campbell; who joined us with salutations, +graceful on Falconer's part, and naturally awkward on that of +Campbell. How I admired the unconcerned, leisurely manner in which +Falconer, having gone a little aloof from Tom and me, removed his +overcoat, laced coat, and waistcoat, giving a playful shiver, +purposely exaggerated, as he stood in his ruffled shirt and +well-fitting boots and breeches. I was awkward in helping Tom off with +his outer clothes. The moonlight, making everything in the hollow +well-nigh as visible as by day, showed Tom's face to be white, his +eyes wide-open and darkly radiant; while in Falconer's case it +revealed a countenance as pleasant and gracious as ever, eyes neither +set nor restless. +</p> + +<p> +Campbell and I perfunctorily compared the swords, gave them a bend or +two, and handed them to the principals. We then stood back. Doctor +McLaughlin looked on with a mild interest. There was a low cry, a ring +of steel, and the two men were at it. +</p> + +<p> +I recall the moonshine upon their faces, the swift dartings of their +faintly luminous blades, their strangely altering shadows on the snow +as they moved, the steady attention of us who looked on, the moan of +the wind among the trees upon the neighbouring heights, the sound of +the men's tramping on the crusted snow, the clear clink of their +weapons, sometimes the noise of their breathing. They eyed each other +steadfastly, seeming to grudge the momentary winks enforced by nature. +Falconer's purpose, I began to see, was but to defend himself and +disarm his opponent. But Tom gave him much to do, making lightning +thrusts with a suddenness and persistence that began at length to try +the elder man. So they kept it up till I should have thought they were +tired out. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Tom made a powerful lunge that seemed to find the captain +unready. But the latter, with a sharp involuntary cry, got his blade +up in time to divert the point, by pure accident, with the guard of +his hilt. His own point was thus turned straight toward his +antagonist; and Tom, throwing his weight after his weapon, impaled +himself upon the captain's. For an infinitesimal point of time, till +the sword was drawn out, the lad seemed to stand upon his toes, +leaning forward, looking toward the sky with a strange surprise upon +his face, eyes and mouth alike open. And then he collapsed as if his +legs and body were but empty rags; and fell in a huddle upon the snow: +with a convulsive movement he stretched himself back to the shape of a +man; and lay perfectly still. +</p> + +<p> +The captain bent over him with astonishment. The surgeon ran to him, +and turned him flat upon his back. I was by this time kneeling +opposite the surgeon, who tore open Tom's shirts and examined his +body. +</p> + +<p> +"Bedad, gentlemen," said the Irishman sadly, in a moment, "he's beyont +the need of my profession. 'Tis well ye had that sthory ready, in case +of accident." +</p> + +<p> +I stared incredulously at the surgeon, and then buried my face upon +the dear body of the dead, mingling my wild tears with his blood. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Madge, Madge," thought I, "if you could see what your folly has +led to!" +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XVI"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVI. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Follows the Fortunes of Madge and Ned.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +But Madge could know nothing yet of that night's occurrence. She was +then many miles out to sea, her thoughts perhaps still lingering +behind with her old life, but bound soon to overtake her, and to pass +far ahead to the world she was sailing for, the world of her +long-cherished desires. +</p> + +<p> +I shall briefly relate a part of what she afterward recounted to me. +The voyage from New York to Bristol lasted six weeks. She suffered +much from her cramped quarters, from the cold weather, from +seasickness; but she bore up against her present afflictions, in the +hope of future compensations. She put away from her, with the facility +of an ambitious beauty, alike her regrets for the past, and her +misgivings of the future. +</p> + +<p> +Not to risk any increase of those misgivings, she refrained from +questioning Ned as to his resources, nor did she require of him a +minute exposition of his plans. She preferred to leave all to him and +to circumstance, considering that, once launched upon the sea of +London, and perfectly unrestricted as to her proceedings, she could +make shift to keep afloat. She had an earnest of the power of her +beauty, in its effect upon the ship's captain, who, in the absence of +passengers, was the only person aboard whose admiration was worth +playing for. She had the place of honour at his table, and in her +presence he was nothing but eyes and dumb confusion, while the +extraordinary measures he took for her comfort proclaimed him her +willing slave. +</p> + +<p> +She listened without objection or comment when Ned, in confidential +moods, forced his purposes upon her attention. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll make 'em stare, my dear," said he. "We'll make 'em open their +eyes a bit; just you wait! We'll find lodgings somewhere in the thick +of the town, and I'll take you to the theatres, and to walk in St. +James Park, and to the public assemblies, and wherever you're sure to +be seen. I wish 'twere Summer; then there'd be Vauxhall and Ranelagh, +and all that. 'Tis a bad time of year in London now; but we'll do our +best. There'll be young sparks of quality enough, to ask each other +who that goddess is, and that Venus, and that angel, and all that kind +of thing; and they'll be mad to make your acquaintance. They'll take +note of me, and when they see me at the coffee-houses and faro-tables, +they'll fall over one another in the rush to know me, and to be my +friends. And I'll pick out the best, and honour 'em with invitations +to call at our lodgings, and there'll be my pretty sister to mix a +punch for us, or pour out tea for us; and once we let 'em see we're as +good quality as any of 'em, and won't stand any damn' nonsense,' why, +you leave it to brother Ned to land a fat fish, that's all!" +</p> + +<p> +She had a fear that his operations might at length become offensive to +her taste, might stray from the line of her own ambitions; but she saw +good reason to await developments in silence; and to postpone +deviating from Ned's wishes, until they should cease to forward hers. +</p> + +<p> +Upon her landing at Bristol, and looking around with interest at the +shipping which reminded her of New York but to emphasise her feeling +of exile therefrom, her thrilling sense of being at last in the Old +World, abated her heaviness at leaving the ship which seemed the one +remaining tie with her former life. If ever a woman felt herself to be +entering upon life anew, and realised a necessity of blotting the past +from memory, it was she; and well it was that the novelty of her +surroundings, the sense of treading the soil whereon she had so long +pined to set foot, aided her resolution to banish from her mind all +that lay behind her. +</p> + +<p> +The time-worn, weather-beaten aspect of the town, its old streets +thronged with people of whom she was not known to a soul, would have +made her disconsolate, had she not forced herself to contemplate with +interest the omnipresent antiquity, to her American eyes so new. And +so, as she had heroically endured seasickness, she now fought bravely +against homesickness; and, in the end, as nearly conquered it as one +ever does. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas a cold ride by stage-coach to London, at that season; there were +few travellers in the coach, and those few were ill-natured with +discomfort, staring fiercely at the two strangers—whose strangeness +they instantly detected by some unconscious process—as if the pair +were responsible for the severe February weather, or guilty of some +unknown crime. At the inns where they stopped, for meals and +overnight, they were subjected to a protracted gazing on the part of +all who saw them—an inspection seemingly resentful or disapproving, +but indeed only curious. It irritated Madge, who asked Ned what the +cause might be. +</p> + +<p> +"Tut! Don't mind it," said he. "'Tis the way of the English, +everywhere but in London. They stare at strangers as if they was in +danger of being insulted by 'em, or having their pockets picked by +'em, or at best as if they was looking at some remarkable animal; but +they mean no harm by it." +</p> + +<p> +"How can they see we are strangers?" she queried. "We're dressed like +them." +</p> + +<p> +"God knows! Perhaps because we look more cheerful than they do, and +have a brisker way, and laugh easier," conjectured Ned. "But you'll +feel more at home in London." +</p> + +<p> +By the time she arrived in London, having slept in a different bed +each night after landing, and eaten at so many different inns each +day, Madge felt as if she had been a long while in England.<a href="#fn8"><sup>[8]</sup></a> She +came to the town thus as to a haven of rest; and though she was still +gazed at for her beauty, it was not in that ceaseless and mistrustful +way in which she had been scrutinised from top to toe in the country; +moreover, the names of many of the streets and localities were +familiar to her, and in her thoughts she had already visited them: for +these reasons, which were more than Ned had taken account of, she did +indeed feel somewhat at home in London, as he had predicted. +</p> + +<p> +The night of their arrival was passed at the inn, in the Strand, where +the coach had set them down. The next morning Ned chose lodgings in +Craven Street: three rooms, constituting the entire first floor; which +Madge, though she thought the house had a dingy look, found +comfortable enough in their faded way; and wherein the two were +installed by noon. They spent the afternoon walking about the most +famous streets, returning to their lodgings for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +"I think," said Ned, while they were eating, "'twon't do any harm to +get on one of your best gowns, and your furbelows, and we'll go to the +play, and begin the campaign this very night." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me, no! I'm tired to death with sightseeing," replied Madge. "I +could fall asleep this moment. Besides, who's here to dress my hair? I +couldn't go without a commode." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well, just as you like. Only be pleased to remember, ma'am, my +purse isn't a widow's mite—widow's cruse of oil, I mean, that runs +for ever. I've been at a great expense to bring you here, and pounds +and shillings don't rain from heaven like—like that stuff the Jews +lived on for forty years in the wilderness. The sooner we land our +fish, the sooner we'll know where the money's coming from. I sha'n't +be able to pay for lodgings and meals very long." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, 'tis a pretty pass if you've no more money—" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it <i>is</i> a pretty pass, and that's just what it is. I didn't +count the cost when I made the generous offer to bring you. Oh, we can +last a week or so yet, but the sooner something is done, the sooner we +shall be easy in our minds. On second thoughts, though, you'd better +go to bed and rest. It mightn't be well to flash on the town to-night, +looking fagged, and without your hair dressed, and all that. So you go +to bed and I'll go around and—call upon a few friends I made when I +was here before." +</p> + +<p> +Ned had so improved his attire, by acquisitions in New York, Bristol, +and London, that his appearance was now presentable in the haunts of +gentlemen. So he went out, leaving her alone. She could no longer +postpone meditating upon what was before her. +</p> + +<p> +Now that she viewed it for the first time in definite particulars, its +true aspect struck her with a sudden dismay. She was expected to do +nothing less than exhibit herself for sale, put herself up at auction +for the highest bidder, set out her charms as a bait. And when the +bait drew, and the bidders offered, and the buyer awaited—what then? +She would never, her pride alone would never let her, degrade herself +to a position at the very thought of which she caught her breath with +horror. Come what may, the man who purchased her must put the +transaction into the form of marriage. True, she was already married, +in the view of the law; but, with a woman's eye for essentials, she +felt her divorce from Philip already accomplished. The law, she +allowed, would have to be satisfied with matters of form: but that was +a detail to be observed when the time came; Philip would not oppose +obstacles. +</p> + +<p> +So she would let matters take their course, would wait upon +occurrences. In very truth, to put herself on view with intent of +catching a husband, of obtaining an establishment in life, was no more +than young ladies of fashion, of virtue, of piety, did continually, +under the skilled direction of the most estimable mothers. In Madge's +case, the only difference was, on the one side, the excuse of +necessity; on the other side, the encumbrance of her existing +marriage. But the latter could be removed, whereas the former would +daily increase. +</p> + +<p> +She must, therefore, benefit by Ned's operations as long as they did +not threaten to degrade her. By the time they did threaten so, she +would have gained some experience of her own, circumstances would have +arisen which she could turn to her use. Of actual destitution, never +having felt it, she could not conceive; and therefore she did not take +account of its possibility in her case. +</p> + +<p> +So, having recovered from her brief panic, she went to bed and slept +soundly. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Ned was in jubilant spirits. His visit the previous +night had been to a gaminghouse in Covent Garden, and fortune had +showered him with benefactions. He saw the margin of time at their +disposal lengthened by several weeks. He bade his sister put herself +at her best, drank with her to their success, and went and engaged a +hairdresser and a maid. They went that night, in a hackney-coach, to +the play at Drury Lane. +</p> + +<p> +The open-mouthed gazing of her new maid, the deftly spoken admiration +of her hairdresser, and the mirror upon her dressing-table, had +prepared Madge for triumph. Her expectations were not disappointed, +but they were almost forgotten. Her pleasure at sight of the restless, +chattering crowd; her interest in the performance; her joy in seeing, +in fine: supplanted half the consciousness of being seen. But she was, +indeed, stared at from all parts of the house; people looked, and +nudged one another; and the powdered bucks and beauties in the +side-boxes, glancing up, forgot their own looks in examining hers. +</p> + +<p> +Ned was elated beyond measure. He praised her all the way home in the +coach, and when they stood at last on the step of their lodging-house, +he waited a moment before going in, and looked back toward the Strand, +half-thinking that some susceptible and adventurous admirer might have +followed their conveyance to the door. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, Sunday, he took her to church, at St. James's in +Piccadilly, where they had difficulty in getting seats, and where +several pious dowagers were scandalised at the inattention of their +male company to the service. Ned walked out alone in the afternoon, +but, to his surprise, he was not accosted by any gentleman pretending +to recognise him as some one else, as a means of knowing him as +himself. +</p> + +<p> +On Monday he made himself seen at numerous coffee-houses and taverns, +but, although he came upon two or three faces that he had noted in the +theatre, no one looked at him with any sign of recollection. "Well, +well," thought he, and afterward said to Madge, "in time they will +come to remember me as the lovely creature's escort; at first their +eyes will be all for the lovely creature herself." +</p> + +<p> +They went to Covent Garden that evening, and to the Haymarket the +next; and subsequently to public assemblies: Madge everywhere +arresting attention, and exciting whispers and elbowings among +observers wherever she passed. At the public balls, she was asked to +dance, by fellows of whom neither she nor Ned approved, but who, Ned +finally came to urge, might be useful acquaintances as leading to +better ones. But she found all of them contemptible, and would not +encourage any of them. +</p> + +<p> +"If we could only get an invite to some private entertainment, the +thing would be done in a jiffy," said Ned, "but damn it, you won't +lead on any of these fellows—sure they must know ladies to whom they +would mention you." +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't think much of ladies that sought acquaintances on <i>their</i> +recommendation." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, curse it, we must begin somewhere, to get in." +</p> + +<p> +"If we began where these could open the doors, I warrant we shouldn't +get very far in." +</p> + +<p> +"Rat me if I understand why the men that are taken with you at the +play, and elsewhere—real gentlemen of quality, some of 'em—never try +to follow you up through me. I've put myself in their way, the Lord +knows. Maybe they think I'm your husband. Curse it, there <i>is</i> a +difficulty! If you walked alone, in St. James Park, or past the +clubs—?" +</p> + +<p> +"You scoundrel, do you think I've come to that?" +</p> + +<p> +Her look advised him not to pursue his last suggestion. By this time +his expectations from their public appearances together had been sadly +dampened. They must make acquaintances; creditable ones, that is to +say, for of another kind he had enough and to spare. +</p> + +<p> +But at last, after some weeks, during which he remained unapproached, +and at the end of which he came to a belated perception of the +insuperable barrier between the elect and the undesirable, and of his +own identity with the latter class, he decided he must fall back upon +his friends for what they might be worth. He had undergone many snubs +in his efforts to thrust himself upon fine gentlemen in taverns, +coffee-houses, and gaming-places. As for Madge, her solitude had been +mitigated by her enjoyment of plays and sights, of the external +glimpses of that life to which her entrance seemed impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Ned began therefore to bring his associates to their lodgings: +chiefly, a gambling barrister of Lincoln's Inn, a drunken cashiered +captain of marines, and a naval surgeon's mate with an unhealthy +outbreak on his face. One meeting with each rascal sufficed to make +Madge deny her presence upon his next visit. At this Ned raged, +declaring, that these gentlemen, though themselves in adverse +circumstances, had relations and friends among the quality or the +wealthy. And at length he triumphantly made good his assertion by +introducing a youth to whom the barrister had introduced him, and who, +he whispered to Madge, though not blessed with a title, was the heir +in prospect of an immense fortune. It came out that he was the son of +a prosperous fishmonger in the city. +</p> + +<p> +He was a fat, good-humoured fellow, expensively dressed, and clean, +being in all these points an exception among Ned's acquaintances. +Madge found him, as a mere acquaintance, more amusing than +intolerable; but as a possible husband, not to be thought of save with +laughter and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Her refusal to consider him in the desired light, made Ned very wroth; +and in revenge he went out, and, between drink and gaming, rid himself +of every penny he possessed. He thereupon begged that Madge would let +him pawn some of her jewelry. She refused to do so; until their +landlady threatened ejection and suit. +</p> + +<p> +After that, matters went from bad to worse. With part of the money +obtained upon what trinkets she gave him, Ned tried to repair his +fortunes at the gaming-table; and that failing, he consoled himself in +drunkenness. More of her valuables were demanded; yielded up after +terrible quarrels with Ned, and humiliating scenes with the landlady. +The visits to the play ceased, the maid was discharged, the +hairdresser was no more brought into requisition. Their fall to +destitution was worthy of the harebrained design, the bungling +conduct, of Ned; the childish inexperience, the blind confidence, of +Madge. 'Twas a fall as progressive as a series of prints by Hogarth. +The brother was perpetually in liquor; he no longer took Madge out +with him. Often he stayed away nights and days at a time. +</p> + +<p> +She resolved to entrust nothing further to him, but to dispose of her +ornaments herself, and to devote the proceeds to necessities alone, as +he had wasted them in drink and gaming. When she acted upon this +resolution, he behaved like a madman. Fearful quarrels ensued. He +blamed her for defeating his plans, she upbraided him for alluring her +to London. Recriminations and threats filled the hours when he was +with her; loneliness and despondency occupied the periods of his +absence. Finally, while she slept, he robbed her of money she had got +upon a bracelet; then of some of the jewelry itself. She dared no +longer sleep soundly, lest he might take away her last means of +subsistence. She was in daily and nightly terror of him. +</p> + +<p> +She made up her mind, at last, to flee to some other part of the town, +and hide from him; that her few resources left might be devoted to +herself alone, and thus postpone the day of destruction to the +furthest possible time. After her last jewel, she might dispose of her +dresses. It was on a moonlight night in spring that she came to this +determination; and, as Ned had gone out in a mood apparently presaging +a long absence, she set about packing her clothes into her trunks, so +as to take them with her when she left by hackney-coach at early +daylight to seek new lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she heard the door below slam with a familiar violence, and a +well-known heavy tread ascend the stairs. There was no time to conceal +what she was at, ere Ned flung open the door, and stumbled in. He +stared in amazement at her trunks and dresses. +</p> + +<p> +"What's this?" he cried. "Why is all this trash lying around? Why, +damme, you're packing your trunks!" +</p> + +<p> +She had passed the mood for dissembling. "Well," she retorted, "I may +pack my trunks if I please. They're my trunks, and my things in 'em." +</p> + +<p> +"What! You thankless hussy, were you going to run away?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis no concern of yours, what I was going to do!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, isn't it? We'll see about that! Begad, 'tis lucky I came back! So +you were going to desert me, eh? Well, I'm damned if there was ever +such ingratitude! After all I've done and suffered!" +</p> + + +<p> +She gave a derisive laugh, and defiantly resumed her packing. +</p> + +<p> +"What! you're rebellious, are you?" quoth he. "But you'll not get away +from me so easy, my lady. Not with those clothes, at least; for +yourself, it doesn't much matter. I'll just put those things back into +the press, and after this I'll carry the key. But your rings and +necklace—I'll take charge of them first." +</p> + +<p> +He stepped forward to lay hands upon the ornaments, which, for their +greater security from him, she now wore upon her person at all times. +She sprang away, ready to defend them by every possible means, and +warning him not to touch her. Her flashing eyes and fiery mien checked +him for a moment; then, with a curse, he seized her by the neck and +essayed to undo the necklace. Thereupon she screamed loudly for help. +To intimidate her into silence, he struck her in the face. At that she +began to struggle and hit, so that he was hard put to it to retain +hold of her and to save his face from her hands. Enraged by her +efforts, he finally drew back to give her a more effectual blow; which +he succeeded in doing, but at the cost of relaxing his grasp, so that +she slipped from him and escaped by the door. She hastened down the +stairs and into the street, he in wrathful pursuit. She fled toward +the Strand. +</p> + +<a name="05"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/05.jpg" alt="HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL +BLOW." width="344" height="510"></p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>"HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL +BLOW."</small> +</p> +<p> </p> + + +<p> +At the corner of that thoroughfare, she ran into a trio of gentlemen +who just at the moment reached the junction of the two streets. +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce!" cried one of the three, flinging his arms around her. +"What have we here? Beauty in distress?" +</p> + +<p> +"Let me go!" she cried. "Don't let <i>him</i> take me." +</p> + +<p> +"Him!" echoed the gentleman, releasing her. He was a +distinguished-looking fellow of twenty-eight or so, with a winning +face and very fine eyes. "Oh, I see. The villain in pursuit!" +</p> + +<p> +"Egad, that makes you the hero to the rescue, Dick," said one of the +young gentleman's companions. +</p> + +<p> +"Faith, I'll play the part, too," replied Dick. "Fear not, madam." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir, for stopping her," said Ned, coming up, panting. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, don't waste your thanks. What shall I do to the rascal, madam?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care," she answered. "Don't let him have me." +</p> + +<p> +"None of that, sir," spoke up Ned. "She's a runaway, and I'm her +natural protector." +</p> + +<p> +"Her husband?" inquired Dick. +</p> + +<p> +"No—" +</p> + +<p> +"I congratulate you, madam." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm her brother," said Ned. +</p> + +<p> +"And condole with you in the same breath," finished Dick, to Margaret. +"You're a lady, I see. Pardon my familiarity at first. Sure you +needn't fear me—I have a wife as beautiful as yourself. As for this +relation of yours—" +</p> + +<p> +"He tried to rob me of my necklace and rings. We lodge yonder, where +the light is in the window. He found me packing my trunks to leave +him—" +</p> + +<p> +"And leave him you shall. Shall she not, gentlemen?" +</p> + +<p> +His two companions warmly assented. Ned savagely measured them with +his eyes, but did not dare a trial of prowess against three. Moreover, +their courtly address and easy manners disconcerted him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I sha'n't harm her," he grumbled. "'Twas but a tiff. Let her come +back home; 'twill be all well." +</p> + +<p> +But Madge was not for resigning herself a moment to his mercy. She +briefly explained her situation and her wishes. The upshot of all was, +that the young gentleman called Dick turned to his friends and said: +</p> + +<p> +"What say you, gentlemen? Our friends at Brooks's can wait, I think. +Shall we protect this lady while she packs her trunks, find lodgings +for her this very night, and see her installed in them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, and see that this gentle brother does not follow or learn where +she goes," answered one. +</p> + +<p> +"Bravo!" cried the other. "'Twill be like an incident in a comedy, +Dick." +</p> + +<p> +"Rather like a page of Smollett," replied Dick. "With your permission, +madam, we'll accompany you to your lodgings." +</p> + +<p> +They sat around the fireplace, with their backs to her, and talked +with easy gaiety, while she packed her possessions; Ned having first +followed them in, and then fled to appease his mind at an ale-house. +Finally Dick and one of the gentlemen closed her trunks for her, while +the other went for a coach; wherein all three accompanied her to the +house of a wigmaker known to Dick, in High Holborn; where they roused +the inmates, made close terms, and left her installed in a decent room +with her belongings. +</p> + +<p> +As they took their leave, after an almost tearful burst of thanks on +her part, Dick said: +</p> + +<p> +"From some of your expressions, madam, I gather that your resources +are limited—resources of one kind, I mean. But in your appearance, +your air, and your voice, you possess resources, which if ever you +feel disposed to use, I beg you will let me know. Pray don't +misunderstand me; the world knows how much I am in love with my +wife."<a href="#fn9"><sup>[9]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, leaving her puzzled and astonished, she turned to +the wigmaker's wife, who was putting the room to rights, and asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Pray what is that last gentleman's name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wot, ma'am! Can it be you don't know <i>'im?</i> " +</p> + +<p> +"He forgot to tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure 'e thought as you must know already. Everybody in London knows +the great Mr. Sheridan." +</p> + +<p> +"What! Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the dramatist?" +</p> + +<p> +"And manager of Drury Lane Theaytre. Didn't you 'ear 'im hoffer to put +you on the stage, w'en 'e spoke about your looks and voice?" +</p> + +<p> +Madge turned to the mirror; and saw, for the—first time in weeks, a +sudden light of hope, a sense of triumphs yet in her power, dawn upon +her face. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XVII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>I Hear Again from Winwood.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Meanwhile we passed through a time of deep sorrow at the Faringfield +house and ours. The effect of Tom's untimely fate, coming upon +Margaret's departure and the disclosures regarding her and Ned, was +marked in Mr. Faringfield by a haggardness of countenance, an averted +glance, a look of age, pitiful to see. His lady considered herself +crushed by affliction, as one upon whom grief had done its worst; and +she resigned herself to the rôle of martyr in the comfortably +miserable way that some people do, without losing her appreciation of +the small consolations of life, such as morning chocolate, afternoon +tea, and neighbourly conversation upon the subject of her woes. Poor +Fanny bore up for the sake of cheering her parents, but her face, for +a long time, was rarely without the traces of tears shed in solitude. +Of that household of handsome, merry children, whose playful shouts +had once filled the mansion and garden with life, she was now the only +one left. I sighed to think that my chances of taking her away from +that house were now reduced to the infinitesimal. Her parents, who had +brought into the world so promising a family, to find themselves now +so nearly alone, must not be left entirely so: such would be her +answer to any pleas I might in my selfishness offer. +</p> + +<p> +What a transformation had been wrought in that once cheerful +household! How many lives were darkened!—Mr. Faringfield's, his +wife's, Fanny's, Philip's (when he should know), Madge's (sooner or +later), the sympathetic Cornelius's, my mother's, my own. And what a +promising, manly, gentle life had been cut short in its earliest +bloom! I knew that Tom's life alone had been worth a score of lives +like Captain Falconer's. And the cause of all this, though Margaret +was much to blame, was the idle resolve of a frivolous lady-killer to +add one more conquest to his list, in the person of a woman for whom +he did not entertain more than the most superficial feelings. What a +sacrifice had been made for the transient gratification of a +stranger's vanity! What bitter consequences, heartrending separations, +had come upon all of us who had lived so close together so many +pleasant years, through the careless self-amusement of a chance +interloper whose very name we had not known six months before! +</p> + +<p> +And now, the pleasure-seeker's brief pastime in that quarter being +ended, the lasting sorrows of his victims having begun; his own career +apparently not altered from its current, their lives diverted rudely +into dark channels and one of them stopped short for ever: was the +matter to rest so? +</p> + +<p> +You may easily guess what my answer was to this question. When I +pondered on the situation, I no longer found Captain Falconer a hard +man to hate. The very lightness of his purpose, contrasted with the +heaviness of its consequences, aggravated his crime. To risk so much +upon other people, to gain so little for himself, was the more heinous +sin than its converse would have been. That he might not have foreseen +the evil consequences made possible, was no palliation: he ought to +have examined the situation; or indeed he ought to have heeded what he +must have known, that little offences may always entail dire evils. +Measured by their possibility to work havoc with lives, there are no +<i>small</i> sins. The man who enters carelessly upon a trivial deviation +is therefore as much to be held responsible as he that walks +deliberately into the blackest crime. Not to know this, is not to have +studied life; and not to have studied life is, in a person of mature +years, a mighty sin of omission, because of the great evils that may +arise from ignorance. But Captain Falconer must have known life, must +have seen the hazards of his course. Therefore he was responsible in +any view; and therefore I would do my utmost toward exacting payment +from him. Plainly, in Philip's absence, the right fell to me, as his +friend and Tom's—nay, too, as the provisionally accepted husband of +Mr. Faringfield's second daughter. +</p> + +<p> +But before I got an opportunity to make a quarrel with Falconer (who +had moved his quarters from the Faringfield house, wherein he had not +slept or eaten since the night of Margaret's leaving it, though he had +spent some time in his rooms there on the ensuing day) I had a curious +interview with Mr. Faringfield. +</p> + +<p> +While in the town one day, I had stopped as usual to see my mother. +Just as I was about to remount my horse, Mr. Faringfield appeared at +his garden gate. Beckoning me to him, he led the way into the garden, +and did not stop until we were behind a fir-tree, where we could not +be seen from the house. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me the truth," said he abruptly, his eyes fixed piercingly upon +mine, "how Tom met his death." +</p> + +<p> +After a moment's confusion, I answered: +</p> + +<p> +"I can add nothing to what has been told you, sir." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me awhile in silence; then said, with a sorrowful frown: +</p> + +<p> +"I make no doubt you are tongue-tied by a compact. But you need not +fear me. The British authorities are not to be moved by any complaint +of mine. My object is not to procure satisfaction for my son's death. +I merely wish to know whether he took it upon himself to revenge our +calamities; and whether that was not the true cause of his death." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir," I said awkwardly, as he still held me in a searching gaze +that seemed to make speech imperative, "how should you think that?" +</p> + +<p> +"From several things. In the first place, I know Tom was a lad of +mettle. The account of the supposed attack that night, has it that +Falconer was in your party; he was one of those who returned with you. +What would Tom have been doing in Falconer's society, when not under +orders, after what had occurred? Other people, who know nothing of +that occurrence, would see nothing strange in their being together. +But I would swear the boy was not so lost to honourable feeling as to +have been Falconer's companion after what had taken place here." +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas no loss of honourable feeling that made him Falconer's +companion!" said I, impulsively. +</p> + +<p> +"Then," cried he, quickly, with eagerness in his voice, "'twas to +fight Falconer?" +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't say that." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God, then, if he had to die, 'twas not as that man's friend, +but his antagonist! My poor, brave Tom! My noble boy! Oh, would I had +known him better while he lived!" +</p> + +<p> +"He was all that is chivalrous and true, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted only this assurance. I felt it in my heart. Don't fear my +betraying you; I understand how these affairs have to be managed at +such times. Alas, if I had but known in time to prevent! Well, well, +'tis too late now. But there is one person I must confide this +to—Philip." +</p> + +<p> +"But I haven't told you anything, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite true; and therefore what I shall confide to Philip will not be +of your telling. He will be silent, too. We shall make no disclosures. +Falconer shall receive his punishment in another manner." +</p> + +<p> +"He shall, sir," said I, with a positiveness which, in his feeling of +sorrow, and yet relief, to know that Tom had died as champion of the +family honour, escaped his notice. I thereupon took my leave. +</p> + +<p> +As I afterward came to know, he sent Philip an account of the whole +lamentable affair, from Ned's reappearance to Tom's death; it was +written in a cipher agreed upon between the two, and 'twas carried by +Bill Meadows. Mr. Faringfield deemed it better that Philip should know +the whole truth from his relation, than learn of Madge's departure, +and Tom's fate, from other accounts, which must soon reach his ears in +any case. +</p> + +<p> +I know not exactly how many days later it was, that, having a free +evening in the town, I went to the Faringfield house in hope of +bearing some cheer with me. But 'twas in vain. Mrs. Faringfield was +keeping her chamber, and requiring Fanny's attendance. Mr. Faringfield +sat in a painful reverie, before the parlour fire; scarce looked up +when I entered; and seemed to find the lively spirits I brought in +from the cold outer world, a jarring note upon his mood. He had not +ordered candles: the firelight was more congenial to his meditations. +Mr. Cornelius sat in a dark corner of the room, lending his silent +sympathy, and perhaps a fitting word now and then, to the merchant's +reflections. +</p> + +<p> +Old Noah, the only servant I saw, reflected in his black face the +sorrow that had fallen on the home, and stepped with the tread of a +ghost. I soon took my leave, having so far failed to carry any +brightness into the stricken house, that I came away filled with a +sadness akin to its own. I walked forward aimlessly through the wintry +dusk, thinking life all sorrow, the world all gloom. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the sound of laughter struck my ears. Could there indeed be +mirth anywhere—nay, so near at hand—while such woe dwelt in the +house I had left? The merriment seemed a violence, a sacrilege, an +insult. I looked angrily at the place whence the noise proceeded. +'Twas from the parlour of the King's Arms tavern—for, in my doleful +ponderings, my feet had carried me, scarce consciously, so far from +Queen Street. I peered in through the lighted window. A number of +officers were drinking, after dinner, at a large table, and 'twas the +noise of their boisterous gaiety that my unhappy feelings had so +swiftly resented. +</p> + +<p> +While the merry fellows dipped their punch from the great bowl +steaming in the centre of the table, and laughed uproariously at the +story one was telling, I beheld in sharp contrast this jocund scene +and the sad one I had so recently looked upon. And, coming to observe +particulars, I suddenly noticed that the cause of all this laughter, +himself smiling in appreciation of his own story as he told it, his +face the picture of well-bred light-hearted mirth, was Captain +Falconer. And he was the cause of the other scene, the sorrow that +abode in the house I loved! The thought turned me to fire. I uttered a +curse, and strode into the tavern; rudely flung open the parlour door, +and stood in the presence of the laughing officers. +</p> + +<p> +Falconer himself was the first to recognise me, though all had turned +to see who made so violent an entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Russell," cried he, showing not a whit of ill-humour at the +interruption to his story, "this is a pleasure, by George! I haven't +seen you in weeks. Find a place, and dive into the punch. Ensign +Russell, gentlemen—if any of you haven't the honour already—and my +very good friend, too!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ensign Russell," I assented, "but not your friend, Captain Falconer. +I desire no friends of your breed; and I came in here for the purpose +of telling you so, damn you!" +</p> + +<p> +Falconer's companions were amazed, of course; and some of them looked +resentful and outraged, on his behalf. But the captain himself, with +very little show of astonishment, continued his friendly smile to me. +</p> + +<p> +"Well acted, Russell," said he, in a tone so pleasant I had to tighten +my grip upon my resolution. "On my conscience, anybody who didn't know +us would never see your joke." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor would anybody who did know us," I retorted. "If an affront before +all this company, purposely offered, be a joke, then laugh at this +one. But a man of spirit would take it otherwise." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure the fellow means to insult you, Jack," said one of the officers +to Falconer. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said I to the officer. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Bert," said the captain, quickly, "you must be under some +delusion. Have you been drinking too much?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a drop," I replied. "I needn't be drunk, to know a scoundrel. +Come, sir, will you soon take offence? How far must I go?" +</p> + +<p> +"By all that's holy, Jack," cried one of his friends, "if you don't +knock him down, I shall!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, he ought to have his throat slit!" called out another. +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, nay!" said Falconer, stopping with a gesture a general rising +from the table. "There is some mistake here. I will talk with the +gentleman alone. After you, sir." And, having approached me, he waited +with great civility, for me to precede him out of the door. I accepted +promptly, being in no mood to waste time in a contest of politeness. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, lad, what in the name of heaven—" he began, in the most gentle, +indulgent manner, as we stood alone in the passage. +</p> + +<p> +"For God's sake," I blurted irritably, "be like your countrymen in +there: be sneering, resentful, supercilious! Don't be so cursed +amiable—don't make it so hard for me to do this!" +</p> + +<p> +"I supercilious! And to thee, lad!" he replied, with a reproachful +smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Show your inward self, then. I know how selfish you are, how +unscrupulous! You like people for their good company, and their +admiration of you, their attachment to you. But you would trample over +any one, without a qualm, to get at your own pleasure or enrichment, +or to gratify your vanity." +</p> + +<p> +He meditated for a moment upon my words. Then he said, good-naturedly: +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you hit me off to perfection, I think. And yet, my liking for +some people is real, too. I would do much for those I like—if it cost +not too many pains, and required no sacrifice of pleasure. For you, +indeed, I would do a great deal, upon my honour!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then do this," quoth I, fighting against the ingratiating charm he +exercised. "Grant me a meeting—swords or pistols, I don't care +which—and the sooner the better." +</p> + +<p> +"But why? At least I may know the cause." +</p> + +<p> +"The blight you have brought on those I love—but that's a cause must +be kept secret between us." +</p> + +<p> +"Must I fight twice on the same score, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why not? You fared well enough the first time. Tom fought on his +family's behalf. I fight on behalf of my friend—Captain Winwood. +Besides, haven't I given you cause to-night, before your friends in +there? If I was in the wrong there, so much the greater my offence. +Come—will you take up the quarrel as it is? Or must I give new +provocation?" +</p> + +<p> +He sighed like a man who finds himself drawn into a business he would +have considerately avoided. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," said he, "I can refuse you nothing. We can manage the +affair as we did the other, I fancy. It must be a secret, of +course—even from my friends in there. I shall tell them we have +settled our difference, and let them imagine what they please to. I'll +send some one to you—that arrangement will give you the choice of +weapons." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis indifferent to me." +</p> + +<p> +"To me also. But I prefer you should have that privilege. I entreat +you will choose the weapons you are best at." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you. I shall expect to hear from you, then. Good-night!" +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night! 'Tis a foggy evening. I wish you might come in and warm +yourself with a glass before you go; but of course—well, good-night!" +</p> + +<p> +I went out into the damp darkness, thanking heaven the matter was +settled beyond undoing; and marvelling that exceptional, favoured +people should exist, who, thanks to some happy combination of +superficial graces, remain irresistibly likable despite all exposure +of the selfish vices they possess at heart. +</p> + +<p> +But if my prospective opponent was one who could not be faced +antagonistically without a severe effort, the second whom he chose was +one against whose side I could fight with the utmost readiness, thanks +to the irritating power he possessed upon me. He was Lieutenant Chubb, +whom I had worsted in the affair to which I have alluded earlier, +which grew out of his assumption of superiority to us who were of +American birth. I had subjected this cock to such deference in my +presence, that he now rejoiced at what promised to be my defeat, and +his revenge by proxy, so great reliance he placed upon Captain +Falconer's skill with either sword or pistol. I chose the latter +weapon, however, without much perturbation, inwardly resolved that the +gloating Chubb should so far fail of his triumph, as to suffer a +second humiliation in the defeat of his principal. For my own second, +Lieutenant Berrian, of our brigade, did me the honour to go out with +me. A young New York surgeon, Doctor Williams, obliged us by assuming +the risk which it would have been too much to ask Doctor McLaughlin to +undertake a second time. At my desire, the place and hour set were +those at which Tom Faringfield had met his death. I felt that the +memory of his dying face would be strongest, there and then, to make +my arm and sight quick and sure. +</p> + +<p> +A thaw had carried away much of the snow, and hence we had it not as +light as it had been for Tom's duel; although the moon made our +outlines and features perfectly distinct as we assembled in the +hollow, and it would make our pistol-barrels shine brightly enough +when the time came, as I ascertained by taking aim at an imaginary +mark. +</p> + +<p> +Falconer and I stood each alone, while the seconds stepped off the +paces and the surgeon lighted a small lantern which might enable him +to throw, upon a possible wound, rays more to the purpose than the +moon afforded. I was less agitated, I think, than the doctor himself, +who was new to such an affair. I kept my mind upon the change wrought +in the Faringfield household, upon the fate of Tom, upon what I +imagined would be Philip's feelings; and I had a thought, too, for the +disappointment of my old enemy Chubb if I could cap the firing signal +with a shot the fraction of a second before my antagonist could. We +were to stand with our backs toward each other, at the full distance, +and, upon the word, might turn and fire as soon as possible. To be the +first in wheeling round upon a heel, and covering the foe, was my one +concern, and, as I took my place, I dismissed all else from my mind, +to devote my entire self, bodily and mental, to that one series of +movements: all else but one single impression, and that was of +malicious exultation upon the face of Chubb. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll smile on t'other side of your face in a minute," thought I, +pressing my teeth together. +</p> + +<p> +I was giving my hand its final adjustment to the pistol, when suddenly +a man dashed out of the covert at one side of the hollow, and ran +toward us, calling out in a gruff voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Hold on a minute. Here's su'thin' fur you, Ensign Russell." +</p> + +<p> +We had all turned at the first sound of the man's tread, fearing we +had been spied upon and discovered. But I now knew there was no danger +of that kind, for the voice belonged to old Bill Meadows. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, annoyed at the interruption. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothin'. Read this here. I've follered yuh all evenin', thinkin' to +ketch yuh alone. I gev my word to get it to yuh, fust thing; an' fur +my own sake, I tried to do it unbeknownst. But now I must do it anyhow +I ken. So take it, an' my compliments, an' I trust yuh to keep mum an' +ask no questions, an' furget 'twas me brung it. And I'll keep a shet +mouth about these here goings on. Only read it now, fur God's sake." +</p> + +<p> +He had handed me a sealed letter. My curiosity being much excited, I +turned to Falconer, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Will you grant me permission? 'Twill take but a moment." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," added Chubb, against all the etiquette of the situation, "it can +be allowed, as you're not like to read any more letters." +</p> + +<p> +I tore it open, disdaining to reply in words to a gratuitous taunt I +could soon answer by deed. The doctor having handed me his lantern, I +held it in one hand, the letter in the other. The writing was that of +Philip Winwood, and the letter read as follows: +</p> + +<p class="quote"> + "DEAR BERT:—I have learned what sad things have befallen. You + will easily guess my informant; but I know you will not use your + knowledge of my communication therewith, to the detriment + thereof. And I am sure that, since I ask it, you will not betray + (or, by any act or disclosure, imperil or hamper) the messenger + who brings this at risk of his life; for the matter is a private + one. +</p> + +<p class="quote"> + "Pondering upon all that has occurred, I am put in a fear of your + forgetting whose right it is to avenge it, and of your taking + that duty to yourself, which belongs by every consideration to + me. This is to beg, therefore, that you will not forestall me; + that while I live you will leave this matter to me, at whatsoever + cost though it be to your pride and your impatience. Dear Bert, I + enjoin you, do not usurp my prerogative. By all the ties between + us, past and to come, I demand this of you. <i>The man is mine to + kill</i>. Let him wait my time, and I shall be the more, what I long + have been, Ever thine, +</p> + +<p class="quote"> + "PHILIP." +</p> + +<p> +I thought over it for a full minute. He asked of me a grievous +disappointment; nay, something of a humiliation, too, so highly had I +carried myself, so triumphant had my enemy Chubb become in +anticipation, so derisive would he be in case of my withdrawal. +</p> + +<p> +If I receded, Chubb would have ground to think the message a device to +get me out of a peril at the last moment, after I had pretended to +face it so intrepidly thereunto. For I could not say what my letter +contained, or who it was from, without betraying Meadows and perhaps +Mr. Faringfield, which both Philip's injunction and my own will +prohibited my doing. Thus, I hesitated awhile before yielding to +Philip what he claimed so rightly as his own. But I am glad I had the +courage to face Chubb's probable suspicions and possible contempt. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," said I, folding up the letter for concealment and +preservation, "I am very sorry to have brought you out here for +nothing. I must make some other kind of reparation to you, Captain +Falconer. I can't fight you." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's pause; during which Lieutenant Chubb looked from +me to his principal, with a mirthful grin, as much as to say I was a +proven coward after all my swagger. But the captain merely replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, let the matter rest as it is, then. I'm sorry I had to disappoint +a lady, to come out here on a fool's errand, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +He made that speech with intention, I'm sure, by way of revenge upon +me, though doubtless 'twas true enough; for he must have known how it +would sting a man who thought kindly of Madge Faringfield. It was the +first cutting thing I had ever heard him say; it showed that he was no +longer unwilling to antagonise me; it proved that he, too, could throw +off the gentleman when he chose: and it made him no longer difficult +for me to hate. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XVIII"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVIII. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>Philip Comes at Last to London.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +A human life will drone along uneventfully for years with scarce a +perceptible progress, retrogression, or change; and then suddenly, +with a few leaps, will cover more of alteration and event in a week +than it has passed through in a decade. So will the critical +occurrences of a day fill chapters, after those of a year have failed +to yield more material than will eke out a paragraph. Experience +proceeds by fits and starts. Only in fiction does a career run in an +unbroken line of adventures or memorable incidents. +</p> + +<p> +The personal life of Philip Winwood, as distinguished from his +military career, which had no difference from that of other commanders +of rebel partisan horse, and which needs no record at my hands, was +marked by no conspicuous event from the night when he learned and +defeated Madge's plot, to the end of the war. The news of her +departure, and of Tom's death, came to him with a fresh shock, it is +true, but they only settled him deeper in the groove of sorrow, and in +the resolution to pay full retribution where it was due. +</p> + +<p> +He had no pusillanimous notion of the unworthiness of revenge. He +believed retaliation, when complete and inflicted without cost or +injury to the giver, to be a most logical and fitting thing. But he +knew that revenge is a two-edged weapon, and that it must be wielded +carefully, so as not to cause self-damage. He required, too, that it +should be wielded in open and honourable manner; and in that manner he +was resolved to use it upon Captain Falconer. As for Madge, I believe +he forgave her from the first, holding her "more in sorrow than in +anger," and pitying rather than reproaching. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he served throughout the war, keeping his sorrow to himself, +being known always for a quietly cheerful mien, giving and taking hard +blows, and always yielding way to others in the pressure for +promotion. Such was the state of affairs in the rebel army, that his +willingness to defer his claims for advancement, when there were +restless and ambitious spirits to be conciliated and so kept in the +service, was availed of for the sake of expediency. But he went not +without appreciation. On one occasion, when a discontented but useful +Pennsylvanian was pacified with a colonelcy, General Washington +remarked to Light Horse Harry Lee: "And yet you are but a major, and +Winwood remains a captain; but let me tell you, there is less honour +in the titles of general and colonel, as borne by many, than there is +in the mere names of Major Lee and Captain Winwood." +</p> + +<p> +When Lee's troop was sent to participate in the Southern campaign, +Philip's accompanied it, and he had hard campaigning under Greene, +which continued against our Southernmost forces until long after the +time of the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis's army at Yorktown, to the +combined rebel and French armies under Washington. It happened that +our battalion, wherein I was promoted to a lieutenantcy shortly after +my abortive meeting with Captain Falconer near Kingsbridge, went South +by sea for the fighting there, being the only one of De Lancey's +battalions that left the vicinity of New York. We had bloody work +enough then to balance our idleness in the years we had covered +outposts above New York, and 'twas but a small fraction of our number +that came home alive at last. I never met Philip while we were both in +the South, nor saw him till the war was over. +</p> + +<p> +Shiploads of our New York loyalists left, after Cornwallis's defeat at +Yorktown showed what the end was to be; some of them going to England +but many of them sailing to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, there to +begin afresh the toiling with the wilderness, and to build up new +English colonies in North America. Others contrived to make their way +by land to Canada, which thereby owes its English population mainly to +those who fled from the independent states rather than give up their +loyalty to the mother country. The government set up by the victorious +rebels had taken away the lands and homes of the loyalists, by acts of +attainder, and any who remained in the country did so at the risk of +life or liberty. What a time of sad leave-taking it was!—families +going forth poor to a strange land, who had lived rich in that of +their birth—what losses, what wrenches, what heart-rendings! And how +little compensation England could give them, notwithstanding all their +claims and petitions! Well, they would deserve little credit for their +loyalty if they had followed it without willingness to lose for it. +</p> + +<p> +But my mother and I had possessed nothing to lose in America but our +house and ground, our money being in the English funds. Fortunately, +and thanks to our insignificance, we had been overlooked in the first +act of attainder, and, taking warning by that, my mother had +gratefully accepted Mr. Faringfield's offer to buy our home, for which +we had thereafter paid him rent. Thus we had nothing to confiscate, +when the war was over. As for Mr. Faringfield, he was on the +triumphant side of Independence, which he had supported with secret +contributions from the first; of course he was not to be held +accountable for the treason of his eldest son, and the open service of +poor Tom on the king's side. +</p> + +<p> +My mother feared dreadful things when the victorious rebels should +take possession—imprisonment, trial for treason, and similar horrors; +and she was for sailing to England with the British army. But I flatly +refused to go, pretending I was no such coward, and that I would leave +when I was quite ready. I was selfish in this, of course; but I could +not bring myself to go so far from Fanny. Our union was still as +uncertain a possibility as ever. Only one thing was sure: she would +not leave her parents at present. +</p> + +<p> +The close of the war did not bring Philip back to us at once. On that +day when, the last of the British vessels having gone down the bay, +with the last British soldier aboard, the strangely empty-looking town +took on a holiday humour, and General Washington rode in by the Bowery +lane, with a number of his officers, and a few war-worn troops to make +up a kind of procession of entry, and the stars and stripes were run +up at the Battery—on that day of sadness, humiliation, and +apprehension to those of us loyalists who had dared stay, I would have +felt like cheering with the crowd, had Philip been one of those who +entered. But he was still in the South, recovering from a bullet wound +in his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +My mother and I were thereafter the recipients of ominous looks, and +some uncomfortable hints and jeers, and our life was made constantly +unpleasant thereby. The sneers cast by one Major Wheeler upon us +loyalists, and upon our reasons for standing by the king, got me into +a duel with him at Weehawken, wherein I gave him the only wound he +ever received through his attachment to the cause of Independence. +Another such affair, which I had a short time afterward, near the +Bowery lane, and in which I shot a Captain Appleby's ear off, was +attributed by my mother to the same cause; but the real reason was +that the fellow had uttered an atrocious slander of Philip Winwood in +connection with the departure of Phil's wife. This was but one of the +many lies, on both sides of the ocean, that moved me at last to +attempt a true account of my friend's domestic trouble. +</p> + +<p> +My mother foresaw my continual engagement in such affairs if we +remained in a place where we were subject to constant offence, and +declared she would become distracted unless we removed ourselves. I +resisted until she vowed she would go alone, if I drove her to that. +And then I yielded, with a heart enveloped in a dark mist as to the +outcome. Well, I thought with a sigh, I can always write to Fanny, and +some day I shall come back for her. +</p> + +<p> +It was now Summer. One evening, I sat upon our front step, in a kind +of torpid state of mind through my refusal to contemplate the dismal +future. My eye turned listlessly down the street. The only moving +figure in it was that of a slender man approaching on the further side +of the way. He carried two valises, one with each hand, and leaned a +little forward as he strode, as if weary. Instantly I thought of years +ago, and another figure coming up that street, with both hands laden, +and walking in a manner of fatigue. I rose, gazed with a fast-beating +heart at the man coming nearer at every step, stifled a cry that +turned into a sob, and ran across the street. He saw me, stopped, set +down his burdens, and waited for me, with a tired, kind smile. I could +not speak aloud, but threw my arms around him, and buried my clouded +eyes upon his shoulder, whispering: "Phil! 'Tis you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," said he, "back at last. I thought I'd walk up from the boat just +as I did that first day I came to New York." +</p> + +<p> +"And just as then," said I, having raised my face and released him, "I +was on the step yonder, and saw you coming, and noticed that you +carried baggage in each hand, and that you walked as if you were +tired." +</p> + +<p> +"I am tired," said he, "but I walk as my wounds let me." +</p> + +<p> +"But there's no cat this time," said I, attempting a smile. +</p> + +<p> +"No, there's no cat," he replied. "And no—" +</p> + +<p> +His eye turned toward the Faringfield garden gate, and he broke off +with the question: "How are they? and your mother?" +</p> + +<p> +I told him what I could, as I picked up one of his valises and +accompanied him across the street, thinking how I had done a similar +office on the former occasion, and of the pretty girl that had made +the scene so bright to both him and me. Alas, there was no pretty girl +standing at the gate, beside her proud and stately parents, and her +open-eyed little brother, to receive us. I remembered how Ned and +Fanny had come upon the scene, so that for a moment the whole family +had stood together at the gateway. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis changed, isn't it?" said Philip, quietly, reading my thoughts as +we passed down the garden walk, upon which way of entrance we had +tacitly agreed in preference to the front door. "I can see the big dog +walking ahead of me, and hear the kitten purring in the basket, and +feel little Tom's soft hand, and see at the other side of me—well, +'tis the way of the world, Bert!" +</p> + +<p> +He had the same boyish look; notwithstanding his face was longer and +more careworn, and his hair was a little sprinkled with gray though he +was but thirty-one. +</p> + +<p> +I left him on the rear veranda, when old Noah had opened the hall door +and shouted a hysterical "Lor' bress me!—it's Massa Phil!" after a +moment's blinking inspection to make sure. From the cheered look on +Mr. Faringfield's face that evening, and the revived lustre in Mrs. +Faringfield's eyes, I could guess what welcome Philip had received +from the stricken pair. +</p> + +<p> +I told him the next day, in our garden, how matters stood with Fanny +and me, and that Captain Falconer had sailed for England with the +royal army. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think Mr. Faringfield will hold out for ever," said Philip, +alluding to my hopes of Fanny. "'Faith, he ought to welcome the +certainty of happiness for at least one of his children. Maybe I can +put the matter to him in that light." +</p> + +<p> +"But Fanny herself will not leave, as long as she thinks they need +her." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, then, he must use his parental authority, and bid her come to +you. He's not the man who would have his child wait upon his death for +happiness. We must use the hope of grandchildren as a means of +argument. For you'll come back to America at last, no doubt, when old +hurts are forgot. And if you can come with a houseful of +youngsters—egad, I shall paint a picture to his mind, will not let +him rest till he sees it in way of accomplishment! Go to England +without fear, man; and trust me to bring things to pass before you've +been long away." +</p> + +<p> +"But you? Surely—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I shall follow you soon. I have matters of my own to look to, +over there." +</p> + +<p> +He did not confide to me, at this time, his thoughts and intentions +regarding his wife (of whom we were then ignorant whether she was dead +or alive, but supposed she must be somewhere in London), or regarding +Captain Falconer; but I knew that it was to her future, and to his +settlement with Falconer, that he alluded. I guessed then, and +ascertained subsequently, that Phil gave Fanny also encouragement to +believe all should come right between her and me, and yet not to the +further sorrow of her parents. I divined it at the time, from the +hopeful manner in which she supported our departure, both in the busy +days preceding it, and in the hour of leave-taking. True, she broke +down on the ship, whither Philip and Cornelius had brought her to bid +us farewell; and she wept bitter tears on my mother's breast, which I +knew were meant chiefly for me. But at last she presented a brave face +for me to kiss, though 'twas rather a cold, limp hand I pressed as she +started down the ladder for the boat where Cornelius awaited. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, lad," said Phil, with the old smile, which had survived all +his toils and hurts and sorrows; "I shall see you in London next, I +hope. And trust me—about Fanny." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, dear Phil, and God bless you! Always working for other +people's happiness, when your own—well, good-bye!" +</p> + +<p> +He had made no request as to my course in the possibility of my +meeting Madge in London; but he knew that <i>I</i> knew what he would wish, +and I was glad he had not thought necessary to tell me. +</p> + +<p> +Philip and Cornelius rowed the boat back, Fanny waving her +handkerchief. We saw them land, and stand upon the wharf to watch our +ship weigh anchor. My mother would wave her handkerchief a moment, and +then apply it to her eyes, and then give it another little toss, and +then her eyes another touch. I stood beside her, leaning upon the +gunwale, with a lump in my throat. Suddenly I realised we were under +way. We continued to exchange farewell motions with the three upon the +wharf. How small Fanny looked! how slender was Philip! how the water +widened every instant between us and them! how long a time must pass +ere we should see them again! A kind of sudden consternation was upon +my mother's face, and in my heart, at the thought. 'Twas a +foretaste—indeed it might prove the actuality—of eternal separation. +Our three friends were at last hidden from our sight, and in the +despondency of that moment I thought what fools men are, to travel +about the world, and not cling all their days to the people, and the +places, that they love. +</p> + +<hr class="med"> + +<p> +We lodged at first in Surrey Street, upon our arrival in London; but +when October came, and we had a preliminary taste of dirty fog, my +mother vowed she couldn't endure the damp climate and thick sky of the +town; and so we moved out to Hampstead, where we furnished a small +cottage, and contrived with economy to live upon the income of our +invested principal, which was now swelled by money we had received +from Mr. Faringfield for our home in New York. The proceeds of the +sale of our furniture there had paid our passage, and given us a start +in our new abode. Meanwhile, as an American loyalist who had suffered +by the war, and as a former servant of the king; though I had no claim +for a money indemnity, such as were presented on behalf of many; I was +lucky enough, through Mr. De Lancey's offices, to obtain a small +clerkship in the custom-house. And so we lived uneventfully, in hope +of the day when Phil should come to us, and of that when I might go +and bring back Fanny. +</p> + +<p> +The letters from Philip and Fanny informed us merely of the continued +health, and the revived cheerfulness, of Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield; and +presently of the good fortune of Mr. Cornelius in being chosen to fill +two pulpits in small towns sufficiently near New York to permit his +residence in Queen Street. Mr. Faringfield and Philip were occupied in +setting the former's business upon its feet again, and something like +the old routine had been resumed in the bereaved house. I knew that +all this was due to Phil's imperceptible work. At last there came +great news: Philip was to follow his letter to England, in the next +Bristol vessel after the one that carried it. 'Twas but a brief note +in which he told us this. "There is some news," wrote he, "but I will +save it for word of mouth. Be prepared for a surprise that I shall +bring." +</p> + +<p> +With what expectation we awaited his coming, what conjectures we made +regarding the promised surprise as we talked the news over every +evening in the little parlour where we dined on my return from the +city, I leave my reader to imagine. I had my secret notion that it +concerned Fanny and me. +</p> + +<p> +At the earliest time when a ship might be expected to follow the one +by which the letter came, I began to call every evening, ere starting +for Hampstead, at the inn where the Bristol coaches arrived. Many a +long wait I had in vain when a coach happened to be late. I grew so +accustomed to the disappointment of seeing no familiar figure among +the passengers alighting, that sometimes I felt as if Phil's letter +were a delusion and he never would appear. +</p> + +<p> +But one evening as I stared as usual with the crowd in the coach yard, +and had watched three portly strangers already emerge from the open +door to the steps, and was prepared for the accustomed sinking of my +heart, what did that heart do but give a great bound so as almost to +choke me! There he was in the doorway, the same old Phil, with the +same kindly face. I rushed forward. Before I reached him, he had +turned around toward the inside of the coach, as if he would help some +one out after him. "Some decrepit fellow traveller," thought I, and +looked up indifferently to see what sort of person it might be: and +there, as I live, stepping out from the coach, and taking his offered +hand, was Fanny! +</p> + +<p> +I was at her other side before either of them knew it, holding up my +hand likewise. They glanced at me in the same instant; and Phil's glad +smile came as the accompaniment to Fanny's joyous little cry. I had an +arm around each in a moment; and we created some proper indignation +for a short space by blocking up the way from the stage-coach. +</p> + +<p> +"Come!" I cried. "We'll take a hackney-coach! How happy mother will +be!—But no, you must be hungry. Will you eat here first?—a cup of +coffee? a glass of wine?" +</p> + +<p> +But they insisted upon waiting till we got to Hampstead; and, scarce +knowing what I was about, yet accomplishing wonders in my excitement, +I had a coach ready, and their trunks and bags transferred, and all of +us in the coach, before I stopped to breathe. And before I could +breathe twice, it seemed, we were rolling over the stones Northward. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure it's a dream!" said I. "To think of it! Fanny in London!" +</p> + +<p> +"My father would have it so," said she, demurely. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," added Phil, "and she's forbidden to go back to New York till she +takes you with her. 'Faith, man, am I not a prophet?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're more than a prophet; you're a providence," I cried. "'Tis your +doing!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense. 'Tis Mr. Faringfield's. And that implacable man, not +content with forcing an uncongenial marriage upon this helpless +damsel, requires that you immediately resign your high post in the +king's service, and live upon the pittance he settles upon you as his +daughter's husband." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis too generous. I can't accept." +</p> + +<p> +"You must, Bert," put in Fanny, "or else you can't have me. 'Tis one +of papa's conditions." +</p> + +<p> +"But," Phil went on, "in order that this unhappy child may become used +to the horrible idea of this marriage by degrees, she is to live with +your mother a few months while I carry you off on a trip for my +benefit and pleasure: and that's one of my conditions: for it wouldn't +do for you to go travelling about the country after you were married, +leaving your wife at home, and Fanny abominates travelling. But as +soon as you and I have seen a very little of this part of the world, +you're to be married and live happy ever after." +</p> + +<p> +We had a memorable evening in our little parlour that night. 'Twas +like being home again, my mother said—thereby admitting inferentially +the homesickness she had refused to confess directly. The chief piece +of personal news the visitors brought was that the Rev. Mr. Cornelius +had taken a wife, and moved into our old house, which 'twas pleasant +to know was in such friendly hands; and that the couple considered it +their particular mission to enliven the hours of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, with whom they spent half their time. +</p> + +<p> +Philip's first month in England was spent in exploring London, +sometimes with me, sometimes alone, for 'tis needless to say in whose +society I chose to pass much of my time. What sights he saw; what +unlikely corners he sought out because some poet had been born, or +died, or drunk wine there; what streets he roamed: I am sure I never +could tell. I know that all the time he kept eyes alert for a certain +face, ears keen for a certain name; but neither in the streets, nor at +the shops, nor in the parks, nor at the play, did he catch a glimpse +of Margaret; nor in the coffee-house, or tavern, or gaming-place, or +in the region of the clubs, did he hear a chance mention of the name +of Falconer. And so, presently, we set about making the tour he had +spoken of. +</p> + +<p> +There was a poor family of Long Island loyalists named Doughty, that +had settled in the seacoast town of Hastings in Sussex, in order that +they might follow the fisheries, which had been their means of +livelihood at home. Considering that a short residence in the more +mild and sunny climate of the Channel might be a pleasant change for +my mother, and not disagreeable to Fanny, we arranged that, during the +absence of Phil and me, we should close our cottage, and the ladies +should board with these worthy though humble people, who would afford +them all needful masculine protection. Having seen them comfortably +established, we set forth upon our travels. +</p> + +<p> +We visited the principal towns and historic places of England and +Scotland, Philip having a particular interest in Northamptonshire, +where his father's line sprang from (Sir Ralph Winwood having been a +worthy of some eminence in the reigns of Elizabeth and James),<a href="#fn10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> and +in Edinburgh, the native place of his mother. Cathedrals, churches, +universities, castles, tombs of great folk, battle-fields—'twould +fill a book to describe all the things and places we saw; most of +which Phil knew more about than the people did who dwelt by them. From +England we crossed to France, spent a fortnight in Paris, went to +Rheims, thence to Strasburg, thence to Frankfort; came down the Rhine, +and passed through parts of Belgium and Holland before taking vessel +at Amsterdam for London. "I must leave Italy, the other German states, +and the rest till another time," said Philip. It seemed as if we had +been gone years instead of months, when at last we were all home again +in our cottage at Hampstead. +</p> + +<p> +After my marriage, though Mr. Faringfield's handsome settlement would +have enabled Fanny and me to live far more pretentiously, we were +content to remain in the Hampstead cottage. Fanny would not hear to +our living under a separate roof from that of my mother, whose +constant society she had come to regard as necessary to her happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Philip now arranged to pursue the study of architecture in the office +of a practitioner of that art; and he gave his leisure hours to the +improving of his knowledge of London. He made acquaintances; passed +much time in the Pall Mall taverns; and was able to pilot me about the +town, and introduce me to many agreeable habitués of the +coffee-houses, as if he were the elder resident of London, and I were +the newcomer. And so we arrived at the Spring of 1786, and a momentous +event. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XIX"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIX. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>We Meet a Play-actress There.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +It was Philip's custom, at this time, to attend first nights at the +playhouses, as well from a love of the theatre as from the possibility +that he might thus come upon Captain Falconer. He always desired my +company, which I was the readier to grant for that I should recognise +the captain in any assemblage, and could point him out to Phil, who +had never seen him. We took my mother and Fanny excepting when they +preferred to stay at home, which was the case on a certain evening in +this Spring of 1786, when we went to Drury Lane to witness the +reappearance of a Miss Warren who had been practising her art the +previous three years in the provinces. This long absence from London +had begun before my mother and I arrived there, and consequently +Philip and I had that evening the pleasurable anticipation of seeing +upon the stage a much-praised face that was quite new to us. +</p> + +<a name="06"></a> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/06.jpg" alt="IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES.BLOW." width="393" height="504"></p> +<p class="ctr"> +<small>"IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES."</small> +</p> +<p> </p> + +<p> +There was the usual noisy throng of coaches, chairs, people afoot, +lackeys, chair-men, boys, and such, in front of the playhouse when we +arrived, and though we scanned all faces on whom the light fell, we +had our wonted disappointment regarding that of Captain Falconer. We +made our way to the pit, and passed the time till the bell and the +chorus "Hats off!" signalled the rising of the green curtain, in +watching the chattering assemblage that was every moment swelled from +the doors; but neither among the lace-ruffled bucks and macaronis who +chaffed with the painted and powdered ladies in the boxes, nor among +those dashing gentry who ogled the same towering-haired ladies from +the benches around us in the pit, did I perceive the elegant and easy +captain. We therefore fell back upon the pleasure to be expected from +the play itself, and when the curtain rose, I, for one, was resigned +to the absence of him we had come partly in quest of. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner had Miss Warren come upon the stage, in her favourite part +of Fanny in "The Clandestine Marriage," revived for the occasion, than +I knew her as Madge Faringfield. I bent forward, with staring eyes and +gaping mouth; if I uttered any exclamation it was drowned in the sound +of the hand-clapping that greeted her. While she curtseyed and +pleasantly smiled, in response to this welcome, I turned abruptly to +Phil, my eyes betokening my recognition. He nodded, without a word or +any other movement, and continued to look at her, his face wearing a +half-smiling expression of gentle gladness. +</p> + +<p> +I knew, from my old acquaintance with him, that he was under so great +emotion that he dared not speak. It was, indeed, a cessation of secret +anxiety to him, a joy such as only a constant lover can understand, to +know that she was alive, well, with means of livelihood, and beautiful +as ever. Though she was now thirty-one, she looked, on the stage, not +a day older than upon that sad night when he had thrown her from him, +six years and more before—nay, than upon that day well-nigh eleven +years before, when he had bade her farewell to go upon his first +campaign. She was still as slender, still had the same girlish air and +manner. +</p> + +<p> +Till the curtain fell upon the act, we sat without audible remark, +delighting our eyes with her looks, our ears with her voice, our +hearts (and paining them at the same time) with the memories her every +movement, every accent, called up. +</p> + +<p> +"How shall we see her?" were Phil's first words at the end of the act. +</p> + +<p> +"We may be allowed to send our names, and see her in the greenroom," +said I. "Or perhaps you know somebody who can take us there without +any preliminaries." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," returned Philip, after a moment's thought, "there will be other +people there. I shouldn't like strangers to see—you understand. We +shall wait till the play is over, and then go to the door where the +players come out. 'Twill take her some time to dress for going +home—we can't miss her that way." +</p> + +<p> +I sympathised with his feelings against making their meeting a scene +for the amusement of frivolous lookers-on, and we waited patiently +enough. Neither of us could have told, when the play was over, what +was the story it presented. Even Madge's speeches we heard with less +sense of their meaning than emotion at the sound of her voice. If this +was the case with me, how much more so, as I could see by side-glances +at his face, was it with Philip! Between the acts, we had little use +for conversation. One of our thoughts, though neither uttered it, was +that, despite the reputation that play-actresses generally bore, a +woman <i>could</i> live virtuously by the profession, and in it, and that +several women since the famous Mrs. Bracegirdle were allowed to have +done so. 'Twas only necessary to look at our Madge, to turn the +possibility in her case into certainty. +</p> + +<p> +When at last the play was ended, we forced our way through the +departing crowd so as to arrive almost with the first upon the scene +of waiting footmen, shouting drivers, turbulent chair-men, clamorous +boys with dim lanterns or flaming torches, and such attendants upon +the nightly emptying of a playhouse. Through this crush we fought our +way, hastened around into a darker street, comparatively quiet and +deserted, and found a door with a feeble lamp over it, which, as a +surly old fellow within told us, served as stage entrance to the +theatre. We crossed the dirty street, and took up our station in the +shadow opposite the door; whence a few actors not required in the +final scene, or not having to make much alteration of attire for the +street, were already emerging, bent first, I suppose, for one or other +of the many taverns or coffee-houses about Covent Garden near at hand. +</p> + +<p> +While we were waiting, two chair-men came with their vehicle and set +it down at one side of the door, and a few boys and women gathered in +the hope of obtaining sixpence by some service of which a player might +perchance be in need on issuing forth. And presently a coach appeared +at the corner of the street, and stopped there, whereupon a gentleman +got out of it, gave the driver and footman some commands, and while +the conveyance remained where it was, approached alone, at a blithe +gait, and took post near us, though more in the light shed by the lamp +over the stage door. +</p> + +<p> +"Gad's life!" I exclaimed, in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" asked Phil, in a similar voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Falconer!" I replied, ere I had thought. +</p> + +<p> +Philip gazed at the newcomer, who was heedless of our presence. Phil +seemed about to stride forward to him, but reconsidered, and whispered +to me, in a strange tone: +</p> + +<p> +"What can he be doing here, where <i>she</i>—? You are sure that's the +man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—but not now—'tis not the place—we came for another purpose—" +</p> + +<p> +"I know—but if I lose him!" +</p> + +<p> +"No fear of that. I'll keep track of him—learn where he's to be +found—while you meet her." +</p> + +<p> +"But if he—if she—" +</p> + +<p> +"Wait and see. His being here, may not in any way concern her. Mere +coincidence, no doubt." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope to God it is!" whispered Phil, though his voice quivered. +"Nay, I'll believe it is, too, till I see otherwise." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! And when I learn his haunts, as I shall before I sleep, you may +find him at any time." +</p> + +<p> +And so we continued to wait, keeping in the darkness, so that the +captain, even if he had deigned to be curious, could not have made out +our faces from where he stood. Philip watched him keenly, to stamp his +features upon memory, as well as they could be observed in the yellow +light of the sickly lamp; but yet, every few moments Phil cast an +eager glance at the door. I grant I was less confident that Falconer's +presence was mere coincidence, than I had appeared, and I was in a +tremble of apprehension for what Madge's coming might reveal. +</p> + +<p> +The captain, who was very finely dressed, and, like us, carried a cane +but no sword, allowed impatience to show upon his usually serene +countenance: evidently he was unused to waiting in such a place, and I +wondered why he did not make free of the greenroom instead of doing +so. But he composed himself to patience as with a long breath, and +fell to humming softly a gay French air the while he stood leaning +motionlessly, in an odd but graceful attitude, upon his slender cane. +Sometimes he glanced back toward the waiting coach, and then, without +change of position as to his body, returned his gaze to the door. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three false alarms were occasioned him, and us, by the coming +forth of ladies who proved, as soon as the light struck them, to be +other than the person we awaited. But at last she appeared, looking +her years and cares a little more than upon the stage, but still +beautiful and girlish. She was followed by a young waiting-woman; but +before we had time to note this, or to step out of the shadow, we saw +Captain Falconer bound across the way, seize her hand, and bend very +gallantly to kiss it. +</p> + +<p> +So, then, it was for her he had waited: such was the bitter thought of +Phil and me; and how our hearts sickened at it, may be imagined when I +say that his hope and mine, though unexpressed, had been to find her +penitent and hence worthy of all forgiveness, in which case she would +not have renewed even acquaintance with this captain. And there he +was, kissing her hand! +</p> + +<p> +But ere either of us could put our thought into speech, our sunken +hearts were suddenly revived, by Madge's conduct. +</p> + +<p> +She drew her hand instantly away, and as soon as she saw who it was +that had seized it, she took on a look of extreme annoyance and anger, +and would have hastened past him, but that he stood right in her way. +</p> + +<p> +"You again!" she said. "Has my absence been for nothing, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Had you stayed from London twice three years, you would have found me +the same, madam," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I must leave London again, that's all," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"It shall be with me, then," said he. "My coach is waiting yonder." +</p> + +<p> +"And my chair is waiting here," said she, snatching an opportunity to +pass him and to step into the sedan, of which the door was invitingly +open. It was not her chair, but one that stood in solicitation of some +passenger from the stage door; as was now shown by one of the +chair-men asking her for directions. She bade her maid hire a boy with +a light, and lead the way afoot; and told the chair-men to follow the +maid. The chair door being then closed, and the men lifting their +burden, her orders were carried out. +</p> + +<p> +Neither Philip nor I had yet thought it opportune to appear from our +concealment, and now he whispered that, for the avoidance of a scene +before spectators, it would be best for him to follow the chair, and +accost her at her own door. I should watch Falconer to his abode, and +each of us should eventually go home independently of the other. Our +relief to find that the English captain's presence was against Madge's +will, needed no verbal expression; it was sufficiently manifest +otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +Before Philip moved out to take his place behind the little +procession, Falconer, after a moment's thought, walked rapidly past to +his coach, and giving the driver and footman brief orders, stepped +into it. 'Twas now time for both Phil and me to be in motion, and we +went down the way together. The chair passed the coach, which +immediately fell in behind it, the horses proceeding at a walk. +</p> + +<p> +"He intends to follow her," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we shall follow both," said Phil, "and await events. 'Tis no use +forcing a scene in this neighbourhood." +</p> + +<p> +So Philip's quest and mine lay together, and we proceeded along the +footway, a little to the rear of the coach, which in turn was a little +to the rear of the chair. Passing the side of Drury Lane Theatre, the +procession soon turned into Bow Street, and leaving Covent Garden +Theatre behind, presently resumed a Southwestward course, deflecting +at St. Martin's Lane so as to come at last into Gerrard Street, and +turning thence Northward into Dean Street. Here the maid led the +chair-men along the West side of the way; but Philip and I kept the +East side. At last the girl stopped before a door with a pillared +porch, and the carriers set down the chair. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Captain Falconer's footman leaped from the box of the coach, +and, while the maid was at the chair door to help her mistress, dashed +into the porch and stood so as to prevent any one's reaching the door +of the house. The captain himself, springing out of the coach, was +at Madge's side as soon as she had emerged from the chair. Philip +and I, gliding unseen across the street, saw him hand something to +the front chair-man which made that rascal open his mouth in +astonishnent—'twas, no doubt, a gold piece or two—and heard him +say: +</p> + +<p> +"You and your fellow, begone, and divide that among you. Quick! +Vanish!" +</p> + +<p> +The men obeyed with alacrity, bearing their empty chair past Phil and +me toward Gerrard Street at a run. The captain, by similar means, sent +the boy with the light scampering off in the opposite direction. +Meanwhile, Philip and I having stopped behind a pillar of the next +porch for a moment's consultation, Madge was bidding the footman stand +aside from before her door. This we could see by the rays of a street +lamp, which were at that place sufficient to make a carried light not +absolutely necessary. +</p> + +<p> +"Come into the coach, madam," said Falconer, seizing one of her hands. +"You remember my promise. I swear I shall keep it though I hang for +it! Don't make a disturbance and compel me to use force, I beg. You +see, the street is deserted." +</p> + +<p> +"You scoundrel!" she answered. "If you really think you can carry me +off, you're much—" +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," he broke in, "actresses <i>are</i> carried off, and not always for +the sake of being talked about, neither! Fetch the maid, Richard—I +wouldn't deprive a lady of her proper attendance. Pray pardon +this—you put me to it, madam!" +</p> + +<p> +With which, he grasped her around the waist, lifted her as if she were +a child, and started with her toward the coach. The footman, a huge +fellow, adopted similar measures with the waiting-woman, who set up a +shrill screaming that made needless any cries on Madge's part. +</p> + +<p> +Philip and I dashed forward at this, and while I fell upon the +footman, Phil staggered the captain with a blow. As Falconer turned +with an exclamation, to see by whom he was attacked, Madge tore +herself from his relaxed hold, ran to the house door, and set the +knocker going at its loudest. A second blow from Philip sent the +captain reeling against his coach wheel. I, meanwhile, had drawn the +footman from the maid; who now joined her mistress and continued +shrieking at the top of her voice. The fellow, seeing his master +momentarily in a daze, and being alarmed by the knocking and +screaming, was put at a loss. The house door opening, and the noise +bringing people to their windows, and gentlemen rushing out of Jack's +tavern hard by, Master Richard recovered from his irresolution, ran +and forced his master into the coach, got in after him to keep him +there, and shouted to the coachman to drive off. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, madam," cried Falconer through the coach door, before it +closed with a bang, "but I'll keep my word yet, I promise you!" +Whereupon, the coach rolled away behind galloping horses. +</p> + +<p> +Forgetting, in the moment's excitement, my intention of dogging the +captain to his residence, I accompanied Philip to the doorway, where +stood Madge with her maid and a house servant. She was waiting to +thank her protectors, whom, in the rush and partial darkness, she had +not yet recognised. It was, indeed, far from her thoughts that we two, +whom she had left so many years before in America, should turn up at +her side in London at such a moment. +</p> + +<p> +We took off our hats, and bowed. Her face had already formed a smile +of thanks, when we raised our heads into the light from a candle the +house servant carried. Madge gave a little startled cry of joy, and +looked from one to the other of us to make sure she was not under a +delusion: then fondly murmuring Phil's name and mine in what faint +voice was left her, she made first as if she would fall into his arms; +but recollecting with a look of pain how matters stood between them, +she drew back, steadied herself against the door-post, and dropped her +eyes from his. +</p> + +<p> +"We should like to talk with you a little, my dear," said Phil gently. +"May we come in?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a gleam of new-lighted hope in her eyes as she looked up and +answered tremulously: +</p> + +<p> +"'Twill be a happiness—more than I dared expect." +</p> + +<p> +We followed the servant with the candle up-stairs to a small +drawing-room, in which a table was set with bread, cheese, cold beef, +and a bottle of claret. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis my supper," said Madge. "If I had known I should have such +guests—you will do me the honour, will you not?" +</p> + +<p> +Her manner was so tentative and humble, so much that of one who scarce +feels a right even to plead, so different from that of the old petted +and radiant Madge, that 'twould have taken a harder man than Philip to +decline. And so, when the servant had placed additional chairs, down +we sat to supper with Miss Warren, of Drury Lane Theatre, who had sent +her maid to answer the inquiries of the alarmed house concerning the +recent tumult in the street. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XX"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XX. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>We Intrude upon a Gentleman at a Coffee-house.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +Little was eaten at that supper, to which we sat down in a constraint +natural to the situation. Philip was presently about to assume the +burden of opening the conversation, when Madge abruptly began: +</p> + +<p> +"I make no doubt you recognised him, Bert—the man with the coach." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Philip and I saw him outside the theatre." +</p> + +<p> +"And followed him, in following you," added Philip. "We had +intended—" +</p> + +<p> +"You must not suppose—" she interrupted; but, after a moment's halt +of embarrassment, left the sentence unfinished, and made another +beginning: "I never saw him or heard of him, after I left New York, +till I had been three years on the stage. Then, when the war was over, +he came back to London, and chanced to see me play at Drury Lane. He +knew me in spite of my stage name, and during that very performance I +found him waiting in the greenroom. I had no desire for any of his +society, and told him so. But it seems that, finding me—admired, and +successful in the way I had resorted to, he could not be content till +he regained my—esteem. If I had shown myself friendly to him then, I +should soon have been rid of him: but instead, I showed a resolution +to avoid him; and he is the kind of man who can't endure a repulse +from a woman. To say truth, he thinks himself invincible to 'em all, +and when he finds one of 'em proof against him, even though she may +once have seemed—when she didn't know her mind—well, she is the +woman he must be pestering, to show that he's not to be resisted. +</p> + +<p> +"And so, at last, to be rid of his plaguing, I went away from London, +and took another stage name, and acted in the country. Only Mr. and +Mrs. Sheridan were in the secret of this: 'twas Mr. Sheridan gave me +letters to the country managers. That was in the Fall of '83. Well, I +heard after awhile that he too had gone into the country, to dance +attendance on an old aunt, whose heir he had got the chance of being, +through his cousin's death. But I knew if I came back to London he +would hear of it, and then, sure, farewell to all my peace! He had +continually threatened to carry me off in a coach to some village by +the Channel, and take me across to France in a fishing-smack. When I +declared I would ask the magistrates for protection, he said they +would laugh at me as a play-actress trying to make herself talked +about. I took that to be true, and so, as I've told you, I left +London. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, after more than two years, I thought he must have put me out of +his mind, and so I returned, and made my reappearance to-night. And, +mercy on me!—there he was, waiting outside the theatre. From his +appearance, I suppose the aunt has died and he has come into the +money. He followed me home, as you saw; and for a moment, when he was +carrying me toward the coach, I vow I had a fear of being rushed away +to a seaport, and taken by force, on some fisherman's boat, across the +Channel. And then, all of a sudden, 'twas as if you two had sprung out +of the earth. Where did you come from? How was it? Oh, tell me +all—all the news! Poor Tom! I thought I should die when I heard of +his death. 'Twas—'twas Falconer told me—how he was killed in a +skirmish with the—What's the matter? Why do you look so? Isn't it +true? I entreat—!" +</p> + +<p> +"Did Falconer tell you Tom died that way?" I blurted out, hotly, ere +Phil could check me. +</p> + +<p> +"In truth, he did! How was it?" She had turned white as a sheet. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas Falconer killed him in a duel," said I, with indignation, "the +very night after you sailed!" +</p> + +<p> +"What, Fal—! A duel! My God, on my account, then! Oh, I never knew +that! Oh, Tom—little Tom—the dear little fellow—'twas I killed +him!" She flung her head forward upon the table, and sobbed wildly, so +that I repented of my outspoken anger at Falconer's deception of her. +For some minutes her grief was pitiful to see. If ever there was the +anguish of remorse, it was then. I sat sobered, leaving it to Phil to +apply comfort, which, when her outburst of tears had spent its +violence, he undertook to do. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, Madge," said he, softly, "'tis done and past now, and not +for us to recall. 'Twas an honourable death, such as he would never +have shrunk from; and he has long been past all sorrow. The most of +his life, while it lasted, was happy; and you could never have +foreseen. He will not be unavenged, take my word of that!" +</p> + +<p> +But it was a long time ere Phil could restore her to composure. When +he had done so, he asked her what had become of Ned. Thereupon she +told us all that I have recorded in a former chapter, of their first +days in London, and the events leading to her acceptance of Mr. +Sheridan's offer. After she had been acting for some time, under the +name of Miss Warren, Ned chanced to come to the play, and recognised +her. He thereupon dogged her, in miserable plight, claiming some +return of the favours which he vowed he had lavished upon her. She put +him upon a small pension, but declared that if he molested her with +further demands she would send him to jail for robbing her. She had +not seen him since; he had called regularly upon her man of business +for his allowance, until lately, when he had ceased to appear. +</p> + +<p> +Of what had occurred before she turned actress, she told us all, I +say; for the news of Tom's real fate had put her into a state for +withholding nothing. Never was confession more complete; uttered as it +was in a stricken voice, broken as it was by convulsive sobs, marked +as it was by falling tears, hesitations for phrases less likely to +pain Philip, remorseful lowerings of her eyes. She reverted, finally, +to her acquaintance with Falconer in New York, and finished with the +words: +</p> + +<p> +"But I protest I have never been guilty of the worst—the one thing—I +swear it, Philip; before God, I do!" +</p> + +<p> +If any load was taken from Phil's mind by this, he refrained from +showing it. +</p> + +<p> +"I came in search of you," said he, in a low voice, "to see what I +could do toward your happiness. I knew that in your situation, a wife +separated from her husband, dependent on heaven knew what for a +maintenance, you must have many anxious, distressful hours. If I had +known where to find you, I should have sent you money regularly from +the first, and eased your mind with a definite understanding. And now +I wish to do this—nay, I <i>will</i> do it, for it is my right. Whatever +may have happened, you are still the Madge Faringfield I—I loved from +the first; nothing can make you another woman to me: and though you +chose to be no longer my wife, 'tis impossible that while I live I can +cease to be your husband." +</p> + +<p> +The corners of her lips twitched, but she recovered herself with a +disconsolate sigh. "Chose to be no longer your wife," she repeated. +"Yes, it appeared so. I wanted to shine in the world. I have shone—on +the stage, I mean; but that's far from the way I had looked to. A +woman in my situation—a wife separated from her husband—can never +shine as I had hoped to, I fancy. But I've been admired in a way—and +it hasn't made me happy. Admiration can't make a woman happy if she +has a deeper heart than her desire of admiration will fill. If I could +have forgot, well and good; but I couldn't forget, and can't forget. +And one must have love, and devotion; but after having known yours, +Philip, whose else could I find sufficient?" +</p> + +<p> +And now there was a pause while each, fearing that the other might not +desire reunion, hesitated to propose it; and so, each one waiting for +the other to say the word, both left it unsaid. When the talk was +finally renewed, it was with a return of the former constraint. +</p> + +<p> +She asked us, with a little stiffness of manner, when we had come to +London; which led to our relation, between us, of all that had passed +since her departure from New York. She opened her eyes at the news of +our residence in Hampstead, and lost her embarrassment in her glad, +impulsive acceptance of my invitation to come and see us as soon as +possible. While Philip and she still kept their distance, as it were, +I knew not how far to go in cordiality, or I should have pressed her +to come and live with us. She wept and laughed, at the prospect of +seeing Fanny and my mother, and declared they must visit her in town. +And then her tongue faltered as the thought returned of Falconer's +probable interference with the quiet and safety of her further +residence in London; and her face turned anxious. +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith! you need have no fear on that score," said Philip, quietly. +"Where does he live?" +</p> + +<p> +She did not know, but she named a club, and a tavern, from which he +had dated importunate letters to her before she left London. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Philip, rising, "I shall see a lawyer to-morrow, and you +may expect to hear from him soon regarding the settlement I make upon +you." +</p> + +<p> +"You are too kind," she murmured. "I have no right to accept it of +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, you have. I am always your husband, I tell you; and you will +have no choice but to accept. I know not what income you get by +acting; but this will suffice if you choose to leave the stage." +</p> + +<p> +"But you?" she replied faintly, rising. "Shall I not see—?" +</p> + +<p> +"I shall leave England in a few days: I don't know how long I shall be +abroad. But there will be Bert, and Fanny, and Mrs. Russell—I know +you may command them for anything." There was an oppressive pause now, +during which she looked at him wistfully, hoping he might at the last +moment ask her that, which he waited to give her a final opportunity +of asking him. But neither dared, for fear of the other's hesitation +or refusal. And so, at length, with a good-bye spoken in an unnatural +voice on each side, the two exchanged a hand-clasp, and Philip left +the room. She stood pale and trembling, bereft of speech, while I told +her that I should wait upon her soon. Then I followed Philip +down-stairs and to the street. +</p> + +<p> +"I will stay to-night at Jack's tavern yonder," said he. "I can watch +this house, in case that knave should return to annoy her. Go you +home—Fanny and your mother will be anxious. And come for me to-morrow +at the tavern, as early as you can. You may tell them what you see +fit, at home. That's all, I think—'tis very late. Good night!" +</p> + +<p> +I sought a hackney-coach, and went home to relieve the fears of the +ladies, occasioned by our long absence. My news that Margaret was +found (I omitted mention of Captain Falconer in my account) put the +good souls into a great flutter of joy and excitement, and they would +have it that they should go in to see her the first thing on the +morrow, a resolution I saw no reason to oppose. So I took them with me +to town in the morning, left them at Madge's lodgings, and was gone to +join Philip ere the laughing and crying of their meeting with her was +half-done. +</p> + +<p> +As there was little chance to find Captain Falconer stirring early, +Phil and I gave the forenoon to his arrangements with his man of law +at Lincoln's Inn. When these were satisfactorily concluded, and a +visit incidental to them had been made to a bank in the city, we +refreshed ourselves at the Globe tavern in Fleet Street, and then +turned our faces Westward. +</p> + +<p> +At the tavern that Madge had named, we learned where Falconer abode, +but, proceeding to his lodgings, found he had gone out. We looked in +at various places whither we were directed; but 'twas not till late in +the afternoon, that Philip caught sight of him writing a letter at a +table in the St. James Coffeehouse. +</p> + +<p> +Philip recognised him from the view he had obtained the previous +night; but, to make sure, he nudged me to look. On my giving a nod of +confirmation, Philip went to him at once, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Pray pardon my interrupting: you are Captain Falconer, I believe." +</p> + +<p> +The captain looked up, and saw only Philip, for I stood a little to +the rear of the former's elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe so, too, sir," he replied urbanely. +</p> + +<p> +"Our previous meeting was so brief," said Philip, "that I doubt you +did not observe my face so as to recall it now." +</p> + +<p> +"That must be the case," said the captain, "for I certainly do not +remember having ever met you." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet our meeting was no longer ago than last night—in Dean +Street." +</p> + +<p> +The captain's face changed: he gazed, half in astonishment, half in a +dawning resentment. +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce, sir! Have you intruded upon me to insult me?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith, sir, I've certainly intruded upon you for no friendly +purpose." +</p> + +<p> +Falconer continued to gaze, in wonder as well as annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"Who the devil are you, sir?" he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +"My name is Winwood, sir—Captain Winwood, late of the American army +of Independence." +</p> + +<p> +Falconer opened his eyes wide, parted his lips, and turned a little +pale. At that moment, I shifted my position; whereupon he turned, and +saw me. +</p> + +<p> +"And Russell, too!" said he. "Well, this is a—an odd meeting, +gentlemen." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a chance one," said Philip. "I have been some time seeking you." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," replied the captain, recovering his self-possession. "I +imagine I know your purpose, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"That will spare my explaining it. You will, of course, accommodate +me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes; I see no way out of it. Gad, I'm the most obliging of +men—Mr. Russell will vouch for it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I beg you will increase the obligation by letting us despatch +matters without the least delay." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, if you will have it so—though I abominate hurry in all +things." +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow at dawn, I hope, will not be too soon for your +preparations?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no, I fancy not. Let me see. One moment, I pray." +</p> + +<p> +He called a waiter, and asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Thomas, is there any gentleman of my acquaintance in the house at +present?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, a score, sir. There's Mr. Hidsleigh hup-stairs, and—" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Idsleigh will do. Ask him to grant me the favour of coming down +for a minute." The waiter hastened away. "Mr. Russell, of course, +represents you, sir," the captain added, to Philip. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir; and you are the challenged party, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, sir. If Mr. Russell will wait, I will introduce my +friend here, and your desire for expedition may be carried out." +</p> + +<p> +"I am much indebted, sir," said Philip; and requesting me to join him +later at the tavern in Dean Street, he took his leave. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Idsleigh, a fashionable young buck whom I now recalled having +once seen in the company of Lord March, had presented himself, a very +brief explanation on Falconer's part sufficed to enlist his services +as second; whereupon the captain desired affably that he might be +allowed to finish his letter, and Idsleigh and I retired to a +compartment at the farther end of the room. Idsleigh regarded me with +disdainful indifference, and conducted his side of the preliminaries +in a bored fashion, as if the affair were of even less consequence +than Falconer had pretended to consider it. He set me down as a +nobody, a person quite out of the pale of polite society, and one whom +it was proper to have done with in the shortest time, and with the +fewest words, possible. I was equally chary of speech, and it was +speedily settled that our principals should fight with small swords, +at sunrise, at a certain spot in Hyde Park; and Idsleigh undertook to +provide a surgeon. He then turned his back on me, and walked over to +Falconer, without the slightest civility of leave-taking. +</p> + +<p> +I went first in a hackney-coach to Hyde Park, to ascertain exactly the +spot which Mr. Idsleigh had designated. Having done so, I returned to +Dean Street; and, in order that I might without suspicion accompany +Philip before daybreak, I called at Madge's lodgings, and suggested +that my mother and Fanny should pass the night in her house (in which +I had observed there were rooms to let) and take her to Hampstead the +next day; while I should sleep at the tavern. This plan was readily +adopted. Thereupon, rejoining Philip, I went with him to the Strand, +where he engaged a post-chaise to be in waiting for him and me the +next morning, for our flight in the event of the duel having the fatal +termination he desired. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll take a hint from Captain Falconer's threat," said Phil: "ride +post to Hastings, and have the Doughty boys sail us across to France. +You'd best write a letter this evening, to leave at Madge's lodgings +after the affair, explaining your departure, to Fanny and your mother. +Afterward, you can either send for them to come to France, or you can +return to Hampstead when the matter blows over. I might have spared +you these inconveniences and risks, by getting another second; but I +knew you wouldn't stand that." +</p> + +<p> +And there, indeed, he spoke the truth. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<a name="XXI"></a> +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXI. +</p> + +<p class="chapter"> +<i>The Last, and Most Eventful, of the History.</i> +</p> + + +<p> +I took my mother and Fanny to the play that night, to see Madge act, +and we three met her after the performance and were driven to her +lodgings with her. I then bade the ladies good-night, with a secret +tenderness arising from the possibility, unknown to them, that our +parting then might be for as many months as they supposed hours. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to Philip at the tavern, I found he had passed the evening +in writing letters; among others, one for me to copy in my own name, +to be left at Madge's lodgings in case of my having to flee the +country for awhile. It was so phrased that the result of the duel, +whether in Philip's death or his antagonist's, could be told by the +insertion of a single line, after its occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +Phil and I rose betimes the next morning, and went by hackney-coach, +in the darkness, to a place in the Oxford road, near Tyburn; where we +left our conveyance waiting, and proceeded afoot to the chosen spot in +the Park. +</p> + +<p> +No one was there when we arrived, and we paced to and fro together to +keep in exercise, talking in low voices, and beguiling our agitation +by confining our thoughts to a narrow channel. The sod was cool and +soft to our tread, and the smell of the leaves was pleasant to our +nostrils. As the sky whitened above the silent trees, and the gray +light penetrated to the grassy turf at our feet, Phil quoted softly +the line from Grey's Elegy in which the phrase of "incense-breathing +morn" occurs; and from that he went to certain parts of Milton's +"L'Allegro" and then to Shakespeare's songs, "When Daisies Pied" and +"Under the Greenwood Tree." +</p> + +<p> +"'Faith," said he, breaking off from the poetry, "'tis a marvel how +content I feel! You would not believe it, the serene happiness that +has come over me. 'Tis easy to explain, though: I have adjusted my +affairs, provided for my wife, left nothing in confusion or disorder, +and am as ready for death as for life. I feel at last responsible to +no one; free to accept whatever fate I may incur; clear of burdens. +The great thing, man, is to have one's debts paid, one's obligations +discharged: then death or life matters little, and the mere act of +breathing fresh air is a joy unspeakable." +</p> + +<p> +We now descried the figures of Falconer, Idsleigh, and a third +gentleman, approaching under the trees. Civil greetings passed as they +came up, and Falconer overwent the demands of mere courtesy so far as +to express himself upon the coolness and sweetness of the morning. But +he was scrutinising Philip curiously the while, as if there were some +reason why he should be less indifferent regarding this antagonist +than he had shown himself regarding Tom Faringfield and me. +</p> + +<p> +The principals removed their hats, coats, and waistcoats. As they were +not booted, but appeared in stockings and low shoes, they made two +fine and supple figures to look upon. The formalities between Mr. +Idsleigh and me were as brief as possible. Falconer chose his sword +with a pretence of scarce looking at it, Philip gave his the usual +examination, and the two men stood on guard. +</p> + +<p> +There was a little wary play at first, while each sought an inkling of +the other's method. Then some livelier work, in which they warmed +themselves and got their muscles into complete facility, followed upon +Phil's pretending to lose his guard. All this was but overture, and it +came to a stop for a short pause designed as preliminary to the real +duel. Both were now perspiring, and breathing into their lungs deep +draughts of air. Falconer's expression showed that he had recognised +better fencing in Phil's work than he had thought to find; but Phil's +face conveyed no such surprise, for he had counted upon an adversary +possessed of the first skill. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas Falconer who began what we all felt was to be the serious part +of the combat. Phil parried the thrust neatly; made a feint, but, +instantly recovering, availed himself of his opponent's counter +movement, and sank his point fair into Falconer's left breast. The +English captain tumbled instantly to the ground. The swiftness of the +thing startled us. Idsleigh and his medical companion stared in +amazement, wondering that the fallen man should lie so still. It took +a second or two for that which their eyes had informed them, to +penetrate to their understanding. But Philip and I knew that the lunge +had pierced the heart, and that the accomplished Lovelace on the +ground would charm no more women. +</p> + +<p> +'Twas only when we were hastening back to our hackney-coach, that +Philip trembled. Then for a few moments his teeth chattered as if he +were taken with a chill, and his face was deathly pale. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis terrible," he said, in an awed tone, "to kill a man this way. +'Tis not like in war. On a morning like this, in the civil manner of +gentlemen, to make of such a marvellous living, thinking, feeling +machine a poor heap of senseless flesh and bone that can only +rot:—and all in the time of a sword-thrust!" +</p> + +<p> +"Tut!" said I, "the world is the better for the riddance. Think of +Tom, and all else!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know it," said Phil, conquering his weakness. "And such men know +what they risk when they break into the happiness of others. I could +not have lived in peace while he lived. Well, that is all behind us +now. Yonder is our coach." +</p> + +<p> +We got in, and were driven to the tavern in Dean Street. We there +dismissed the coach, and Philip started afoot for the inn, in the +Strand, where our post-chaise was to be in readiness. I was to join +him there after completing the letter and leaving it at Madge's +lodgings, Philip using the mean time in attending to the posting of +certain letters of his own. We had no baggage to impede us, as we +intended to purchase new wearables in France: we had, on the previous +day, provided ourselves with money and letters of credit. My affairs +had been so arranged that neither my wife nor my mother could be +pecuniarily embarrassed by my absence. Philip's American passport, +used upon our former travels, was still in force and had been made to +include a travelling companion. So all was smoothed for our flight. +</p> + +<p> +Taking my letter to the house in which Madge lived, I asked for her +maid, telling the house servant I would wait at the street door: for, +as I did not wish to meet any of the three ladies, I considered it +safer to entrust the letter to Madge's own woman. The girl came down; +but I had no sooner handed her the letter, and told her what to do +with it, than I heard Madge's voice in the hall above. She had come +out to see who wanted her maid, suspecting some trick of Falconer's; +and, leaning over the stair-rail, had recognised my voice. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Bert? Why don't you come up?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't—I'm in haste," I blundered. "Good morning!" +</p> + +<p> +"But wait! What's wrong? A moment, I entreat! Nay, you shall—!" And +at that she came tripping swiftly down the stairs. The maid, +embarrassed, handed her the letter. Without opening it, she advanced +to me, while I was wildly considering the propriety of taking to my +heels; and demanded: +</p> + +<p> +"What is it you had to write? Sure 'tis your own hand. Why can't you +tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not so loud," I begged. "My mother and Fanny mustn't know till I am +gone." +</p> + +<p> +"Gone!" With this she tore open the letter, and seemed to grasp its +general sense in a glance. "A duel! I suspected—from what Philip +said. Oh, my God, was he—?" She scanned the writing wildly, but in +her excitement it conveyed nothing to her mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Falconer will not annoy you again," I said, "and Philip and I +must go to France for awhile. Good-bye! Let mother and Fanny see the +letter in half an hour." +</p> + +<p> +"But wait—thank God, he's not hurt!—France, you say? How? Which +road?" +</p> + +<p> +She was holding my coat lapel, to make me stay and tell her. So I +answered: +</p> + +<p> +"By post to Hastings; there we shall get the Doughty boys to—" +</p> + +<p> +At this, there broke in another voice from above stairs—that of +Fanny: +</p> + +<p> +"Is that Bert, Madge dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"Tell her 'no,'" I whispered, appalled at thought of a leave-taking, +explanations, weeping, and delay. "And for God's sake, let me—ah, +thank you! Read the letter—you shall hear from us—God bless you +all!" +</p> + +<p> +The next moment I was speeding from the house, leaving Madge in a +tumult of thoughts at the door. I turned into Gerrard Street without +looking back; and brisk walking soon brought me to the Strand, where +Philip himself was just ready to take the post-chaise. +</p> + +<p> +"A strange thing delayed me," said he, as we forthwith took our seats +in the vehicle; which we had no sooner done than the postilions set +the four horses going and our journey was begun. +</p> + +<p> +"What was it?" I asked, willing to reserve the account of my interview +with Madge till later. +</p> + +<p> +"The most remarkable thing, for me to witness on this particular +morning," he replied; and told me the story as we rattled through +Temple Bar and Fleet Street, on our way to the bridge and the Surrey +side. "After I left you, I don't know what it was that kept me from +coming through St. Martin's Lane to the Strand, and made me continue +East instead. But something did; and finally I turned to come through +Bow Street. When I was nearly in front of the magistrate's house, a +post-chaise stopped before it, and a fellow got out whom I took to be +a Bow Street runner. Several people ran up to see if he had a prisoner +in the chaise, and so the footway was blocked; and I stopped to look +on for a moment with the rest. A man called out to the constable, +'What you got, Bill?' The constable, who had turned around and reached +into the chaise, stopped to look at the speaker, and said, 'Nobody +much—only the Soho Square assault and robbery—I ran him down at +Plymouth, waiting for a vessel—he had a mind to travel for his +health.' The constable grinned, and the other man said, 'Sure that's a +hanging business, and no mistake!'" +</p> + +<p> +"And so it is," said I, interrupting Philip. "I read of the affair at +the time. A fellow named Howard knocked down his landlady, robbed her +money-box, and got away before she came to." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Phil went on, "I remembered it, too. And I waited for a glimpse +of the robber's face. He stepped out, and the constable, with a +comrade from inside the chaise, led him to where they hold prisoners +for examination. He was all mud-stained, dishevelled, and frowsy: for +two seconds, though he didn't notice me, I had a good view of him. And +who do you think this Howard really was?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me, how should I know? My acquaintance among the criminal +classes isn't what it might be." +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas Ned Faringfield!" said Philip. "I should have known him +anywhere—heavens, how little a man's looks change, through all +vicissitudes!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, upon my soul!" I exclaimed, in a chill. "Who'd have thought it? +Yet hanging is what we always predicted for him, in jest. That it +should come so soon—for they'll make short work of that case, 'tis +certain." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I fear they'll not lose much time over it, at the Old Bailey. We +may expect to read his name among the Newgate hangings in a month or +two. Poor devil!—I'll send him some money through my lawyer, and have +Nobbs see that he gets decent counsel. Money will enable him to live +his last weeks at Newgate in comfort, at least; though 'tis beyond +counsel to save his neck. His people must never know. Nor Fanny." +</p> + +<p> +"Unless he gives his real name at the trial, or in his 'last dying +speech and confession.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, even then it may not come to their ears. Best bring Fanny and +your mother soon to France. Madge will never tell, if she learns; I'll +warrant her for that. To think of it!—the dear old house in Queen +Street, and the boys and girls we used to play with—Tom's fate—and +now Ned's—Fanny in England—and Madge—! Was ever such diversity of +destinies in so small a family?" +</p> + +<p> +He fell into his thoughts: of what strange parts we play in the world, +how different from those anybody would predict for us in our +childhood—how different, from those we then predict for ourselves. +And so we were borne across the Thames, looking back to get our last +view of St. Paul's dome for some time to come; through Southwark, and +finally into the country. The postilions kept the horses at a good +gait Southward. We did not urge them to this, for indeed we saw but +little necessity for great haste, as there was likely to be some time +ere Falconer's death became known to the authorities, and some time +longer ere it was traced to us. But as Mr. Idsleigh, before getting +out of the way himself, <i>might</i> take means to lay written information +against us, which would serve at least to put the minions of the law +on the right track, and as we might be subjected to some delay at +Hastings, we saw no reason to repress the postilions' zeal, either. +</p> + +<p> +In our second stage we were not favoured with so energetic conductors, +and in our third we had unfit horses. So we had occasion to be glad of +our excellent start. Thus, between good horses and bad, live +postilions and lethargic, smooth roads and rough, we fared on the +whole rather well than ill, and felt but the smallest apprehension of +being caught. To speak metaphorically, the coast of France was already +in our sight. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the first stage, we had breakfasted upon eggs and beer. +We took an early dinner at Tunbridge Wells, and proceeded through +Sussex. 'Twas well forward in the afternoon, and we were already +preparing our eyes, faces, and nostrils for the refreshing intimation +of the sea, when our ears notified us of a vehicle following in our +wake. Looking back, at a bend of the road, we saw it was a conveyance +similar to our own, and that the postilions were whipping the horses +to their utmost speed. "Whoever rides there," said I, "has paid or +promised well for haste." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis strange there should be other folk bound in a hurry for Hastings +this same day," replied Phil. +</p> + +<p> +We looked at one another, with the same thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Their post-boys seem to be watching our chaise as much as anything +else," I remarked. "To be sure, they can't know 'tis you and I." +</p> + +<p> +"No, but if they <i>were</i> in quest of us, they would try to overtake +this chaise or any other on the road. Ho, postilion!—an extra crown +apiece for yourselves if you leave those fellows yonder behind for +good." And Phil added quietly to me: "It won't do to offer 'em too +much at first—'twould make 'em suspicious." +</p> + +<p> +"But," quoth I, as our men put their horses to the gallop. "How the +devil could any one have got so soon upon our track?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Idsleigh may have turned informer, in his own interest—he was +in a devilish difficult position—and men would be sent with our +descriptions to the post-houses. 'Tis merely possible. Or our +hackney-coachman may have guessed something, and dogged me to the +Strand, and informed. If they found where we started, of course they +could track us from stage to stage. 'Tis best to be safe—though I +scarce think they're in our pursuit." +</p> + +<p> +"Egad, they're in somebody's!" I cried. "Their postilions are shouting +to ours to stop." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind those fellows' holloing," called Philip to our riders. +"'Tis a wager—and I'll double that crown apiece." +</p> + +<p> +We bowled over the road in a way to make me think of Apollo's chariot +and the horses of Phaeton; but we lengthened not a rod the stretch +betwixt us and our followers, though we nullified their efforts to +diminish it. We could make out, more by sight than by hearing—for we +kept looking back, our heads thrust out at either side—that the +pursuing post-boys continued bawling vehemently at ours. What they +said, was drowned by the clatter of horses and wheels. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they have seen we are two men," said Philip, "and still they +keep up the race. They certainly must want us. Were they merely in a +hurry to reach Hastings, they could do that the sooner by sparing +their horses—this is a killing pace." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we're in a serious plight," said I. "Though we may beat 'em to +Hastings, they will catch us there." +</p> + +<p> +"Unless we can gain a quarter of an hour's start, and, by one chance +in twenty, find the Doughty boys ashore, and their boat in harbour." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, there's one chance in twenty, maybe," I growled, looking gloomily +back, and wishing I might see the pursuing chaise upset, or one of its +horses stumble. +</p> + +<p> +There is an old proverb about evil wishes rebounding to strike the +sender; and a recollection of this was my paramount thought a moment +later: for at a sharp turn our chaise suddenly seemed to leap into the +air and alight on one wheel, and then turned over sidewise with what +appeared to be a solemn deliberation, piling me upon Philip in a heap. +We felt the conveyance dragged some yards along the road, and then it +came to a stop. A moment later we heard the postilions cursing the +horses, and then we clambered out of the upper side of the chaise, and +leaped into the road. We had been knocked, shaken, and bruised, but +were not seriously hurt. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's the devil to pay," cried the older postilion excitedly, +turning his attention from the trembling horses to the wrecked +vehicle. +</p> + +<p> +"We will pay—but you will let us ride your horses the rest of the +way?" asked Phil, quietly, rather as a matter of form than with any +hope of success. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir!" roared the man. "Bean't there damage enough? Just look—" +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, man," said Phil, examining the chaise, "a guinea will mend +all—and there it is, and your extra crowns, too, though you failed. +Well," he added, turning to me, "shall we take to the fields? They'll +have to hunt us afoot then, and we may beat 'em at that." +</p> + +<p> +But I found I was too lame, from the knocking about I had got in the +upset vehicle, for any game of hare and hounds. "Go you," said I. "I +was only the second—there's less danger for me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll not go, then," said he. "What a pity I drew you into this, Bert! +I ought to have considered Fanny and your mother. They'll never +forgive me—they never ought to.—Well, now we shall know the worst!" +</p> + +<p> +The second vehicle came to a triumphant stop near us, the postilions +grinning with satisfaction. Phil and I stood passive in the road: I +remember wondering whether the officers of the law would put handcuffs +upon us. A head was thrust out of the window—a voice called to us. +</p> + +<p> +"Madge!" we cried together, and hastened to her. +</p> + +<p> +"I was afraid you might sail before I got to Hastings," cried she, +with relief and joy depicted on her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is with you?" asked Phil. +</p> + +<p> +"No one," she answered. "I left Bert's letter with my maid, to give to +Fanny. I left the girl too, to stay with her if she will take her. I +didn't wish to encumber—Your chaise is broken down: get into this +one. Oh, Phil!—I couldn't bear to have you go away—and leave +me—after I had seen you again. 'Twas something to know you were in +London, at least—near me. But if you go to France—you must let me +go, too—you must, dear—as your friend, your comrade and helper, if +nothing more—your old friend, that knew you so long ago—" +</p> + +<p> +She lost voice here, and began to cry, still looking at him through +the mist of tears. His own eyes glistened softly as he returned her +gaze; and, after a moment, he went close to the window through which +her head was thrust, raised his hand so as to stroke her hair, and +kissed her on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you shall come as my wife, of course," said he, gently. "If I +had been sure you wished it, you might have travelled with us from +London, and been spared this chase.—But think what you are giving up, +dear—'tis not too late—the theatre, the praise and admiration, +London—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, hang 'em all!" cried she, looking joyous through her tears. "'Tis +you I want!" +</p> + +<p> +And she caught his face between her hands, and kissed it a dozen +times, to the open-mouthed wonder of the staring postilions. +</p> + +<hr class="med"> + +<p> +She took us in her post-chaise to Hastings, where the three of us +embarked as we had planned to do, having first arranged that one of +the Doughty boys should go to Hampstead and act as a sort of man +servant or protector to my mother and Fanny during their loneliness. +They joined us later in Paris, and I finally accompanied them home +when Captain Falconer's fatal duel was a forgotten matter. Philip and +Madge then visited Italy and Germany; and subsequently returned to New +York, having courageously chosen to outface what old scandal remained +from the time of her flight. And so, despite Phil's prediction, 'tis +finally his children, not mine, that gladden the age of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, and have brought back the old-time cheer to the house; +for Fanny and I have remained in England, and here our young ones are +being reared. Each under the government for which he fought—thus +Philip and I abide. 'Tis no news, that Phil has become one of the +leading architects in his country. My own life has been pleasantly +monotonous, save for the duel I fought against a detractor of General +Washington, which, as I merely wounded my adversary, did not +necessitate another exile from the kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +It is still an unsolved mystery in London, as to what became of Miss +Warren, the actress of Drury Lane: she was for long reported to have +been carried away by a strange gentleman who killed Captain Falconer +in a duel over her. 'Tis not known in New York that Mrs. Winwood was +ever on the stage. And as I must not yet make it known, nor disclose +many things which have perforce entered into this history, I perceive +that my labour has been, after all, to no purpose. I dare not give the +narrative to the world, now it is done; but I cannot persuade myself +to give it to the fire, either. Let it lie hid, then, till all of us +concerned in it are passed away; and perchance it may serve to +instruct some future reader how much a transient vanity and wilfulness +may wreck, and how much a steadfast love and courage may retrieve. +</p> + + +<h4> +THE END. +</h4> + +<hr class="med"> + + +<h3> +NOTES. +</h3> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn1"> +NOTE 1.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Before the Revolution, there were Queen Street and Pearl Street, +together forming a line continuous though not exactly straight. After +the Revolution, the whole line was named Pearl Street. King Street and +Duke Street were others that rightly underwent re-christening. But, +with equal propriety, many old names smacking of the English régime +were retained, and serve as memorials of the English part of the +city's colonial history: such names, for instance, as William Street, +Nassau Street, Hanover Square, Kingsbridge; not to mention New York +itself. The old Dutch rule, too, remains marked in the city's +nomenclature—for ever, let us hope. I say, "let us hope;" for there +have been attempts to have the authorities change the name of the +Bowery itself, that renowned thoroughfare which began, in the very +morn of the city's history, as a lane leading to Peter Stuyvesant's +<i>bauer</i>. I scarce think this desecration shall ever come to pass: yet +in such matters one may not be sure of a nation which has permitted +the spoiling (by the mutilation of headlands and cliffs, for private +gain) of a river the most storied in our own land, and the most +beautiful in the world. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn2"> +NOTE 2.</a> +</p> + +<p> +In 1595 was published in London: "Vincentio Saviolo his Practise. In +two Bookes. The first intreating the use of the Rapier and Dagger. The +second of Honour and Honourable Quarrels." (Etc.) The celebrated +swordsman sets forth only the Italian system, and has naught to say +upon the French. The book that Winwood studied may have been some +reprint (now unknown), with notes or additions by a later hand. In any +case, he may have acquired through it sufficient rudimentary +acquaintance with some sort of practice to enable him to excite the +French fencing-master's interest. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn3"> +NOTE 3.</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Washington's Light Horse" was a name sometimes unofficially +applied to Lieut.-Col. Baylor's Dragoons. They were sleeping in a barn +and outbuildings, at Old Tappan, one night in the Fall of 1778, when +they were surprised by General Grey, whose men, attacking with +bayonets, killed 11, mangled 25, and took about 40 prisoners. Both +Col. Baylor and Major Clough were wounded, the latter fatally. It is +of course this affair, to which Lieut. Russell's narrative alludes. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn4"> +NOTE 4.</a> +</p> + +<p> +The Morris house, now known as the Jumel mansion, was half a +generation old at the beginning of the Revolution. Thither, as the +bride of Captain Morris, a brother-officer of Washington's in the old +French war, went Mary Philipse; whom young Washington was said to have +wooed while he tarried in and about New York upon his memorable +journey to Boston to solicit in vain, of Governor Shirley, a king's +commission. The Revolution found the Morrises on the side opposed to +Washington's; for a short time during the operations above New York in +1776 he occupied this house of theirs as headquarters. They lost it +through their allegiance to the royal cause, all their American real +estate being confiscated by the New York assembly. The mansion became +in time the residence of that remarkable woman who, from a barefoot +girl in Providence, R.I., had grown up to be the wife of a Frenchman +named Jumel; and to be the object of much admiration, and the subject +of some scandal. In her widowhood she received under this roof Aaron +Burr, after his duel with Hamilton (whose neighbouring country-house +still exists, in Convent Avenue), and under this roof she and +Burr—both in their old age—were united in marriage. I imagine that +some of the ghosts that haunt this mansion, if they might be got in a +corner, would yield their interviewers a quaint reminiscence or two. +The grounds appertaining to the house have been sadly diminished by +the opening of new streets; yet it is still a fine, striking landmark, +perched to be seen afar, as from the railroad trains that follow the +East bank of the Harlem, or, better, from West 155th Street at and +about its junction with St. Nicholas Place and the Speedway. At the +time when I left New York for a temporary residence in the Old World, +there was talk of moving the house to a less commanding, but still +eminent, height that crowns the bluff rising from the Speedway: the +owner was compelled, it was said, to avail himself of the increased +value of the land whereon it stood. 'Tis some pity if this has been, +or has to be, done; but nothing to the pity if the mansion had to be +pulled down. Apart from all associations and historical interest, this +imposing specimen of our Colonial domestic architecture, so simple and +reposeful an edifice amidst a world of flat buildings, and of gew-gaw +houses built for sale on the instalment plan to the ubiquitous Mr. and +Mrs. Veneering, is a precious relief, nay an untiring delight, to the +eye. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn5"> +NOTE 5.</a> +</p> + +<p> +During this Winter (1779-80) the Continental army was in two main +divisions. The one with which Washington made his headquarters was +hutted on the heights about Morristown, N.J. The other, under General +Heath, was stationed in the highlands of the Hudson. Intermediate +territory, of course, was more or less thoroughly guarded by detached +posts, militia, and various forces regular and irregular. The most of +the cavalry was quartered in Connecticut; but Winwood's troop, as our +narrative shows, was established near Washington's headquarters. This +was a memorably cold Winter, and as severe upon the patriots as the +more famous Winter (1777-78) at Valley Forge. About the latter part of +January the Hudson was frozen over, almost to its mouth. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn6"> +NOTE 6.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Long before I fell upon Lieut. Russell's narrative, a detailed account +of a British attempt to capture Washington, by a bold night dash upon +his quarters at Morristown, had caught my eyes from the pages of the +old "New Jersey Historical Collections." Washington was not the only +object of such designs during the War of Independence. One was planned +for the seizure of Governor Livingstone at his home in Elizabeth, +N.J.; but, much to Sir Henry Clinton's disappointment, that +influential and witty champion of independence was not at home when +the surprise party called. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn7"> +NOTE 7.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Lieut-Gen. Knyphausen was now (January, 1780) temporarily in chief +command at New York, as Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis had +sailed South (December 26, 1779) to attack Charleston and reduce South +Carolina. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn8"> +NOTE 8.</a> +</p> + +<p> +At that time, the Bristol and Bath stage-coaches took two days for the +trip to London. Madge doubtless would have slept a night or two at +Bristol after her landing; and probably at the Pelican Inn at +Speenhamland (opposite Newbury), the usual midway sleeping-place, at +the end of the first day's ride. But bad weather may have hindered the +journey, and required the passengers to pass more than one night as +inn-guests upon the road. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn9"> +NOTE 9.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sheridan's surpassing beauty, talent, and amiability are +well-known to all readers; as is the fact that her brilliant husband, +despite their occasional quarrels, was very much in love with her from +first to last. +</p> + + +<p class="noindent"><a name="fn10"> +NOTE 10.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Sir Ralph Winwood, born at Aynho, in Northamptonshire, in 1564, was +frequently sent as envoy to Holland in the reign of James I., by whom +he was knighted in 1603. He was Secretary of State from a date in 1614 +till his death in 1617. His collected papers and letters are entitled, +"Memorials of Affairs of State in the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and +King James I.," etc. His portrait painted by Miereveldt, is in the +National Portrait Gallery in London. +</p> + +<hr class="med"> + +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/Ad1.jpg" alt="L.C. Page nd Company's Announcement of List of New Fiction, page 1" width="392" height="593"> +</p> +<hr class="short"> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/Ad2.jpg" alt="L.C. Page nd Company's Announcement of List of New Fiction, page 2" width="371" height="593"> +</p> +<hr class="short"> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/Ad3.jpg" alt="L.C. Page nd Company's Announcement of List of New Fiction, page 3" width="373" height="593"> +</p> +<hr class="short"> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/Ad4.jpg" alt="L.C. Page nd Company's Announcement of List of New Fiction, page 4" width="377" height="595"> +</p> +<hr class="short"> +<p class="ctr"> +<img src="images/Ad5.jpg" alt="L.C. 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W. D. Hamilton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Philip Winwood + A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces. + + +Author: Robert Neilson Stephens + +Release Date: March 30, 2005 [eBook #15506] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP WINWOOD*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15506-h.htm or 15506-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/0/15506/15506-h/15506-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/0/15506/15506-h.zip) + + + + + +PHILIP WINWOOD + + + "The bravest are the tenderest." + + BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + * * * * * + + +Works of ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS + + + An Enemy to the King + (Twenty-sixth Thousand) + + The Continental Dragoon + (Seventeenth Thousand) + + The Road to Paris + (Sixteenth Thousand) + + A Gentleman Player + (Thirty-fifth Thousand) + + Philip Winwood + (Fiftieth Thousand) + + +L.C. Page and Company, Publishers (Incorporated) +212 Summer St., Boston, Mass. + + + * * * * * + + + +PHILIP WINWOOD + +A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of +Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the +Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in +War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces. + +Presented Anew by + +Robert Neilson Stephens + +Author of _A Gentleman Player_, _An Enemy to the King_, _The +Continental Dragoon_, _The Road to Paris_, etc. + +Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton + +Boston: L.C. Page & Company (Incorporated) + +1900 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + + I. PHILIP'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK + + II. THE FARINGFIELDS + + III. WHEREIN 'TIS SHOWN THAT BOYS ARE BUT BOYS + + IV. HOW PHILIP AND I BEHAVED AS RIVALS IN LOVE + + V. WE HEAR STARTLING NEWS, WHICH BRINGS ABOUT A + FAMILY "SCENE" + + VI. NED COMES BACK, WITH AN INTERESTING TALE OF A + FORTUNATE IRISHMAN + + VII. ENEMIES IN WAR + + VIII. I MEET AN OLD FRIEND IN THE DARK + + IX. PHILIP'S ADVENTURES--CAPTAIN FALCONER COMES + TO TOWN + + X. A FINE PROJECT + + XI. WINWOOD COMES TO SEE HIS WIFE + + XII. THEIR INTERVIEW + + XIII. WHEREIN CAPTAIN WINWOOD DECLINES A PROMOTION + + XIV. THE BAD SHILLING TURNS UP ONCE MORE IN + QUEEN STREET + + XV. IN WHICH THERE IS A FLIGHT BY SEA, AND A DUEL + BY MOONLIGHT + + XVI. FOLLOWS THE FORTUNES OF MADGE AND NED + + XVII. I HEAR AGAIN FROM WINWOOD + +XVIII. PHILIP COMES AT LAST TO LONDON + + XIX. WE MEET A PLAY-ACTRESS THERE + + XX. WE INTRUDE UPON A GENTLEMAN AT A COFFEE-HOUSE + + XXI. THE LAST, AND MOST EVENTFUL, OF THE HISTORY + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +CAPTAIN PHILIP WINWOOD Frontispiece + +"OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE +SO IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED" + +"SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY" + +"'HE IS A--AN ACQUAINTANCE'" + +"HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL BLOW" + +"IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES" + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +_Philip's Arrival in New York._ + + +'Tis not the practice of writers to choose for biography men who have +made no more noise in the world than Captain Winwood has; nor the act +of gentlemen, in ordinary cases, to publish such private matters as +this recital will present. But I consider, on the one hand, that +Winwood's history contains as much of interest, and as good an example +of manly virtues, as will be found in the life of many a hero more +renowned; and, on the other, that his story has been so partially +known, and so distorted, it becomes indeed the duty of a gentleman, +when that gentleman was his nearest friend, to put forth that story +truly, and so give the lie for ever to the detractors of a brave and +kindly man. + +There was a saying in the American army, proceeding first from Major +Harry Lee, of their famous Light Horse, that Captain Winwood was in +America, in the smaller way his modesty permitted, what the Chevalier +Bayard was in France, and Sir Philip Sidney in England. This has been +received more than once (such is the malice of conscious inferiority) +with derisive smiles or supercilious sneers; and not only by certain +of his own countrymen, but even in my presence, when my friendship for +Winwood, though I had been his rival in love and his enemy in war, was +not less known than was my quickness to take offence and avenge it. I +dealt with one such case, at the hour of dawn, in a glade near the +Bowery lane, a little way out of New York. And I might have continued +to vindicate my friend's character so: either with pistols, as at +Weehawken across the Hudson, soon after the war, I vindicated the +motives of us Englishmen of American birth who stood for the king in +the war of Independence; or with rapiers, as I defended the name of +our admired enemy, Washington, against a certain defamer, one morning +in Hyde Park, after I had come to London. But it has occurred to me +that I can better serve Winwood's reputation by the spilling of ink +with a quill than of blood with a sword or pistol. This consideration, +which is far from a desire to compete with the young gentlemen who +strive for farthings and fame, in Grub Street, is my apology for +profaning with my unskilled hand the implement ennobled by the use of +a Johnson and a Goldsmith, a Fielding and an Addison. + +My acquaintance with the Captain's life, from the vantage of an +eye-witness and comrade, goes back to the time when all of us +concerned were children; to the very day, in truth, when Philip, a +pale and slender lad of eleven years, first set foot in New York, and +first set eye on Margaret Faringfield. + +As I think of it, it seems but yesterday, and myself a boy again: but +it was, in fact, in the year 1763; and late in the afternoon of a +sunny Summer day. I remember well how thick and heavy the green leaves +hung upon the trees that thrust their branches out over the garden +walls and fences of our quiet street. + +Tired from a day's play, or perchance lazy from the heat, I sprawled +upon the front step of our house, which was next the residence of the +Faringfields, in what was then called Queen Street. I believe the name +of that, as of many another in New York, has been changed since the +war, having savoured too much of royalty for republican taste.[1] The +Faringfield house, like the family, was one of the finest in New York; +and there were in that young city greater mansions than one would have +thought to find in a little colonial seaport--a rural-looking +provincial place, truly, which has been likened to a Dutch town almost +wholly transformed into the semblance of some secondary English town, +or into a tiny, far-off imitation of London. It lacked, of course, the +grand, gray churches, the palaces and historic places, that tell of +what a past has been London's; but it lacked, too, the begriming smoke +and fog that are too much of London's present. Indeed, never had any +town a clearer sky, or brighter sunshine, than are New York's. + +From the Summer power of this sunshine, our part of Queen Street was +sheltered by the trees of gardens and open spaces; maple, oak, +chestnut, linden, locust, willow, what not? There was a garden, +wherein the breeze sighed all day, between our house and the +Faringfield mansion, to which it pertained. That vast house, of red +and yellow brick, was two stories and a garret high, and had a +doubly-sloping roof pierced with dormer windows. The mansion's lower +windows and wide front door were framed with carved wood-work, painted +white. Its garden gate, like its front door, opened directly to the +street; and in the garden gateway, as I lounged on our front step that +Summer evening, Madge Faringfield stood, running her fingers through +the thick white and brown hair of her huge dog at her side. + +The dog's head was almost on a level with hers, for she was then but +eight years old, a very bright and pretty child. She turned her quick +glance down the street as she stood; and saw me lying so lazy; and at +once her gray eyes took on a teasing and deriding light, and I felt I +was in for some ironical, quizzing speech or other. But just then her +look fell upon something farther down the way, toward Hanover Square, +and lingered in a half-amused kind of curiosity. I directed my own +gaze to see what possessed hers, and this is what we both beheld +together, little guessing what the years to come should bring to make +that moment memorable in our minds. + +A thin but well-formed boy of eleven; with a pleasant, kindly face, +somewhat too white, in which there was a look--as there was evidence +in his walk also--of his being tired from prolonged exertion or +endurance. He was decently, though not expensively, clad in black +cloth, his three-cornered felt hat, wide-skirted coat, and ill-fitting +knee-breeches, being all of the same solemn hue. I was to perceive +later that his clothes were old and carefully mended. His gray silk +stockings ill accorded with his poor shoes, of which the buckles were +of steel. He carried in one hand a large, ancient travelling-bag, so +heavy that it strained his muscles and dragged him down, thus partly +explaining the fatigued look in his face; and in his other hand a +basket, from the open top of which there appeared, thrust out, the +head of a live gray kitten. + +This pretty animal's look of strangeness to its surroundings, as it +gazed about with curiosity, would alone have proclaimed that it was +arrived from travel; had not the baggage and appearance of its bearer +told the same story. The boy, also, kept an alert eye forward as he +advanced up the street, but it was soon evident that he gazed in +search of some particular object. This object, as the lad finally +satisfied himself by scanning it and its neighbours twice over, proved +to be the house immediately opposite ours. It was one of a row of +small, old brick residences, with Dutch gable ends toward the street. +Having made sure of its identity, and having reddened a little at the +gaze of Madge and me, the young stranger set down his bag with +perceptible signs of physical relief, and, keeping in his grasp the +basket with the cat, knocked with a seemingly forced boldness--as if +he were conscious of timidity to be overcome--upon the door. + +At that, Madge Faringfield could not help laughing aloud. + +It was a light, rippling, little laugh, entirely good-natured, lasting +but a moment. But it sufficed to make the boy turn and look at her and +blush again, as if he were hurt but bore no resentment. + +Then I, who knew what it was to be wounded by a girl's laugh, +especially Madge's, thought it time to explain, and called out to the +lad: + +"There's nobody at home there." + +The boy gazed at me at a loss; then, plainly reluctant to believe me, +he once more inspected the blank, closed front of the house, for +denial or confirmation of my word. When he next looked back at me, the +expression of inquiring helplessness and vague alarm on his face, as +if the earth were giving way beneath his feet, was half comical, half +pitiful to see. + +"It is Mr. Aitken's house, is it not?" he asked, in a tone low and +civil, though it seemed to betray a rapid beating of the heart after a +sudden sinking thereof. + +"It was," I replied, "but he has gone back to England, and that house +is empty." + +The lad's dismay now became complete, yet it appeared in no other way +than in the forlorn expression of his sharp, pale countenance, and in +the unconscious appeal with which his blue eyes surveyed Madge and me +in turn. But in a few moments he collected himself, as if for the +necessary dealing with some unexpected castastrophe, and asked me, a +little huskily still: + +"When will he come home?" + +"Never, to this house, I think. Another customs officer has come over +in his place, but this one lodges at the King's Arms, because he's a +bachelor." + +The lad cast a final hopeless glance at the house, and then +mechanically took a folded letter from an inner pocket, and dismally +regarded the name on the back. + +"I had a letter for him," he said, presently, looking again across the +street at me and Madge, for the curious Miss Faringfield had walked +down from her gateway to my side, that she might view the stranger +better. And now she spoke, in her fearless, good-humoured, somewhat +forward way: + +"If you will give the letter to me, my father will send it to Mr. +Aitken in London." + +"Thank you, but that would be of no use," said the lad, with a +disconsolate smile. + +"Why not?" cried Madge promptly, and started forthwith skipping across +the dusty street. I followed, and in a moment we two were quite close +to the newcomer. + +"You're tired," said Madge, not waiting for his answer. "Why don't you +sit down?" And she pointed to the steps of the vacant house. + +"Thank you," said the lad, but with a bow, and a gesture that meant he +would not sit while a lady stood, albeit the lady's age was but eight +years. + +Madge, pleased at this, smiled, and perched herself on the upper step. +Waiting to be assured that I preferred standing, the newcomer then +seated himself on his own travelling-bag, an involuntary sigh of +comfort showing how welcome was this rest. + +"Did you come to visit in New York?" at once began the inquisitive +Madge. + +"Yes, I--I came to see Mr. Aitken," was the hesitating and dubious +answer. + +"And so you'll have to go back home without seeing him?" + +"I don't very well see how I can go back," said the boy slowly. + +"Oh, then you will visit some one else, or stay at the tavern?" Madge +went on. + +"I don't know any one else here," was the reply, "and I can't stay at +the tavern." + +"Why, then, what will you do?" + +"I don't know--yet," the lad answered, looking the picture of +loneliness. + +"Where do you live?" I put in. + +"I did live in Philadelphia, but I left there the other day by the +stage-coach, and arrived just now in New York by the boat." + +"And why can't you go back there?" I continued. + +"Why, because,--I had just money enough left to pay my way to New +York; and even if I should walk back, I've no place there to go back +to, and no one at all--now--" He broke off here, his voice faltering; +and his blue eyes filled with moisture. But he made a swallow, and +checked the tears, and sat gently stroking the head of his kitten. + +For a little time none of us spoke, while I stood staring somewhat +abashed at the lad's evident emotion. Madge studied his countenance +intently, and doubtless used her imagination to suppose little +Tom--her younger and favourite brother--in this stranger's place. +Whatever it was that impelled her, she suddenly said to him, "Wait +here," and turning, ran back across the street, and disappeared +through the garden gate. + +Instead of following her, the dog went up to the new boy's cat and +sniffed at its nose, causing it to whisk back its head and gaze +spellbound. To show his peaceful mind, the dog wagged his tail, and by +degrees so won the kitten's confidence that it presently put forth its +face again and exchanged sniffs. + +"I should think you'd have a dog, instead of a cat," said I, +considering the stranger's sex. + +He answered nothing to this, but looked quite affectionately at his +pet. I set it down as odd that so manly a lad should so openly show +liking for a cat. The conduct of the animal in its making acquaintance +with the dog; the good-humoured assurance of the one, and the cautious +coyness of the other; amused us till presently Madge's voice was +heard; and then we saw her coming from the garden, speaking to her +father, who walked bareheaded beside her. Behind, at a little +distance, came Madge's mother and little Tom. All four stopped at the +gateway, and looked curiously toward us. + +"Come over here, boy," called Madge, and heeded not the reproof her +mother instantly gave her in an undertone for her forwardness. For any +one of his children but Madge, reproof would have come from her father +also; in all save where she was concerned, he was a singularly correct +and dignified man, to the point of stiffness and austerity. His wife, +a pretty, vain, inoffensive woman, was always chiding her children for +their smaller faults, and never seeing the traits that might lead to +graver ones. + +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield awaited the effect of Madge's invitation, or +rather command, adding nothing to it. The boy's colour showed his +diffidence, under the scrutiny of so many coldly inquiring eyes; but +after a moment he rose, and I, with greater quickness, seized his bag +by the handle and started across the street with it. He called out a +surprised and grateful "Thank you," and followed me. I was speedily +glad I had not undertaken to carry the bag as far as he had done; +'twas all I could do to bear it. + +"How is this, lad?" said Mr. Faringfield, when the boy, with hat off, +stood before him. The tone was stern enough, a stranger would have +thought, though it was indeed a kindly one for Madge's father. "You +have come from Philadelphia to visit Mr. Aitken? Is he your relation?" + +"No, sir; he was a friend of my father's before my father came to +America," replied the lad, in a low, respectful voice. + +"Yet your father did not know he was gone back to England? How is +that?" + +"My father is dead, sir; he died six years ago." + +"Oh, I see," replied Mr. Faringfield, a little taken down from his +severity. "And the letter my little girl tells me of?" + +"If you please, my mother wrote it, sir," said the boy, looking at the +letter in his hand, his voice trembling a little. He seemed to think, +from the manner of the Faringfields, that he was obliged to give a +full account of himself, and so went on. "She didn't know what else to +do about me, sir, as there was no one in Philadelphia--that is, I +mean, she remembered what a friend Mr. Aitken was to my father--they +were both of Oxford, sir; Magdalen college. And so at last she thought +of sending me to him, that he might get me a place or something; and +she wrote the letter to tell him who I was; and she saw to it that I +should have money enough to come to New York,--" + +"But I don't understand," interrupted Mr. Faringfield, frowning his +disapproval of something. "What made it necessary for her to dispose +of you? Was she going to marry again?" + +"She was going to die, sir," replied the boy, in a reserved tone +which, despite his bashfulness, both showed his own hurt, and rebuked +his elder's thoughtless question. + +"Poor boy!" whispered Mrs. Faringfield, grasping her little Tom's +hand. + +"Oh," said her husband, slowly, slightly awed from his sternness. "I +beg your pardon, my lad. I am very sorry, indeed. Your being here, +then, means that you are now an orphan?" + +"Yes, sir," was the boy's only answer, and he lowered his eyes toward +his kitten, and so sad and lonely an expression came into his face +that no wonder Mrs. Faringfield whispered again, "Poor lad," and even +Madge and little Tom looked solemn. + +"Well, boy, something must be done about you, that's certain," said +Mr. Faringfield. "You have no money, my daughter says. Spent all you +had for cakes and kickshaws in the towns where the stage-coach +stopped, I'll warrant." + +The boy smiled. "The riding made me hungry sir," said he. "I'd have +saved my extra shilling if I'd known how it was going to be." + +"But is there nothing coming to you in Philadelphia? Did your mother +leave nothing?" + +"Everything was sold at auction to pay our debts--it took the books +and our furniture and all, to do that." + +"The books?" + +"We kept a book-shop, sir. My father left it to us. He was a +bookseller, but he was a gentleman and an Oxford man." + +"And he didn't make a fortune at the book trade, eh?" + +"No, sir. I've heard people say he would rather read his books than +sell them." + +"From your studious look I should say you took after him." + +"I do like to read, sir," the lad admitted quietly, smiling again. + +Here Madge put in, with the very belated query: + +"What's your name?" + +"Philip Winwood," the boy answered, looking at her pleasantly. + +"Well, Master Winwood," said Madge's father, "we shall have to take +you in overnight, at least, and then see what's to be done." + +At this Mrs. Faringfield said hastily, with a touch of alarm: + +"But, my dear, is it quite safe? The child might--might have the +measles or something, you know." + +Madge tittered openly, and Philip Winwood looked puzzled. Mr. +Faringfield answered: + +"One can see he is a healthy lad, and cleanly, though he is tired and +dusty from his journey. He may occupy the end garret room. 'Tis an odd +travelling companion you carry, my boy. Did you bring the cat from +Philadelphia?" + +"Yes, sir; my mother was fond of it, and I didn't like to leave it +behind." + +The kitten drew back from the stately gentleman's attempt to tap its +nose with his finger, and evinced a desire to make the acquaintance of +his wife, toward whom it put forth its head as far as possible out of +its basket, beginning the while to purr. + +"Look, mamma, it wants to come to you," cried little Tom, delighted. + +"Cats and dogs always make friends quicker with handsome people," said +Philip Winwood, with no other intent than merely to utter a fact, of +which those who observe the lower animals are well aware. + +"There, my dear," said Mr. Faringfield, "there's a compliment for you +at my expense." + +The lady, who had laughed to conceal her pleasure at so innocent a +tribute, now freely caressed the kitten; of which she had been shy +before, as if it also might have the measles. + +"Well, Philip," she said, a moment later, "come in, and feel that you +are at home. You'll have just time to wash, and brush the dust off, +before supper. He shall occupy the second spare chamber, William," she +added, turning to her husband. "How could you think of sending so nice +and good-looking a lad to the garret? Leave your travelling-bag here, +child; the servants shall carry it in for you." + +"This is so kind of you, ma'am, and sir," said Philip, with a lump in +his throat; and able to speak his gratitude the less, because he felt +it the more. + +"I am the one you ought to thank," said Madge archly, thus calling +forth a reproving "Margaret!" from her mother, and an embarrassed +smile--part amusement, part thanks, part admiration--from Philip. The +smile so pleased Madge, that she gave one in return and then actually +dropped her eyes. + +I saw with a pang that the newcomer was already in love with her, and +I knew that the novelty of his adoration would make her oblivious of +my existence for at least a week to come. But I bore him no malice, +and as the Faringfields turned toward the rear veranda of the house, I +said: + +"Come and play with me whenever you like. That's where I live, next +door. My name is Herbert Russell, but they call me Bert, for short." + +"Thank you," said Winwood, and was just about to go down the garden +walk between Madge and little Tom, when the whole party was stopped by +a faint boo-hooing, in a soft and timid voice, a short distance up the +street. + +"'Tis Fanny," cried Mrs. Faringfield, affrightedly, and ran out from +the garden to the street. + +"Ned has been bullying her," said Madge, anger suddenly firing her +pretty face. And she, too, was in the street in a moment, followed by +all of us, Philip Winwood joining with a ready boyish curiosity and +interest in what concerned his new acquaintances. + +Sure enough, it was Fanny Faringfield, Madge's younger sister, coming +along the street, her knuckles in her eyes, the tears streaming down +her face; and behind her, with his fists in his coat pockets, and his +cruel, sneering laugh on his bold, handsome face, came Ned, the eldest +of the four Faringfield young ones. He and Fanny were returning from a +children's afternoon tea-party at the Wilmots' house in William +Street, from which entertainment Madge had stayed away because she had +had another quarrel with Ned, whom she, with her self-love and high +spirit, had early learned to hate for his hectoring and domineering +nature. I shared Madge's feeling there, and was usually at daggers +drawn with Ned Faringfield; for I never would take any man's +browbeating. Doubtless my own quickness of temper was somewhat to +blame. I know that it got me into many fights, and had, in fact, kept +me too from that afternoon's tea, I being then not on speaking terms +with one of the Wilmot boys. As for Madge's detestation of Ned, she +made up for it by her love of little Tom, who then and always deserved +it. Tom was a true, kind, honest, manly fellow, from his cradle to +that sad night outside the Kingsbridge tavern. Madge loved Fanny too, +but less wholly. As for Fanny, dear girl, she loved them all, even +Ned, to whom she rendered homage and obedience; and to save whom from +their father's hard wrath, she now, at sight of us all issuing from +the gateway, suddenly stopped crying and tried to look as if nothing +were the matter. + +Ned, seeing his father, paled and hesitated; but the next moment came +swaggering on, his face showing a curious succession of fear, +defiance, cringing, and a crafty hope of lying out of his offence. + +It was, of course, the very thing Fanny did to shield him, that +certainly betrayed him; and when I knew from her sudden change of +conduct that he was indeed to blame, I would gladly have attacked him, +despite that he was twelve years old and I but ten. But I dared not +move in the presence of our elders, and moreover I saw at once Ned's +father would deal with him to our complete satisfaction. + +"Go to your room, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, in his sternest tone, +looking his anger out of eyes as hard as steel. This meant for Master +Ned no supper, and probably much worse. + +"Please, sir, I didn't do anything," answered Ned, with ill-feigned +surprise. "She fell and hurt her arm." + +Fanny did not deny this, but she was no liar, and could not confirm +it. So she looked to the ground, and clasped her left wrist with her +right hand. But in this latter movement she again exposed her brother +by the very means she took to protect him; for quick-seeing Madge, +observing the action, gently but firmly unclasped the younger sister's +hand, and so disclosed the telltale marks of Ned's fingers upon the +delicate wrist, by squeezing or wrenching which that tyrant had +evinced his brotherly superiority. + +At sight of this, Mrs. Faringfield gave a low cry of horror and +maternal pity, and fell to caressing the bruised wrist; and Madge, +raising her arm girl-wise, began to rain blows on her brother, which +fell wherever they might, but where none of them could hurt. Her +father, without reproving her, drew her quietly back, and with a +countenance a shade darker than before, pointed out the way for Ned +toward the veranda leading to the rear hall-door. + +With a vindictive look, and pouting lips, Ned turned his steps down +the walk. Just then he noticed Philip Winwood, who had viewed every +detail of the scene with wonder, and who now regarded Ned with a kind +of vaguely disliking curiosity, such as one bestows on some +sinister-looking strange animal. Philip's look was, of course, +unconscious, but none the less clearly to be read for that. Ned +Faringfield, pausing on his way, stared at the unknown lad, with an +expression of insolent inquiry. Not daring to stay for questions, but +observing the valise, he seemed to become aware that the newcomer was +an already accepted guest of the house; and he thereupon surveyed +Philip a moment, inwardly measuring him as a possible comrade or +antagonist, but affecting a kind of disdain. A look from his father +ended Ned's inspection, and sent him hastily toward his imprisonment, +whither he went with no one's pity but Fanny's--for his mother had +become afraid of him, and little Tom took his likes and dislikes from +his sister Madge. + +And so they went in to supper, disappearing from my sight behind the +corner of the parlour wing as they mounted the rear veranda: Mr. and +Mrs. Faringfield first, the mother leading Fanny by the wounded wrist; +the big dog next, wagging his tail for no particular reason; and then +Philip Winwood, with his cat in his basket, Madge at one side of him +and pretending an interest in the kitten while from beneath her lashes +she alertly watched the boy himself, little Tom on the other side +holding Philip's hand. I stood at the gateway, looking after; and with +all my young infatuation for Madge, I had no feeling but one of +liking, for this quiet, strange lad, with the pale, kind face. And I +would to God I might see those three still walking together, as when +children, through this life that has dealt so strangely with them all +since that Summer evening. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_The Faringfields._ + + +Having shown how Philip Winwood came among us, I ought to tell at +once, though of course I learned it from him afterwards, all that need +be known of his previous life. His father, after leaving Oxford and +studying medicine in Edinburgh, had married a lady of the latter city, +and emigrated to Philadelphia to practise as a physician. But whether +'twas that the Quaker metropolis was overstocked with doctors even +then, or for other reasons, there was little call for Doctor Winwood's +ministrations. Moreover, he was of so book-loving a disposition that +if he happened to have sat down to a favourite volume, and a request +came for his services, it irked him exceedingly to respond. This being +noticed and getting abroad, did not help him in his profession. + +The birth of Philip adding to the doctor's expenses, it soon came +about that, in the land where he had hoped to make a new fortune, he +parted with the last of what fortune he had originally possessed. Then +occurred to him the ingenious thought of turning bookseller, a +business which, far from requiring that he should ever absent himself +from his precious volumes, demanded rather that he should always be +among them. But the stock that he laid in, turned out to comprise +rather such works as a gentleman of learning would choose for company, +than such as the people of Philadelphia preferred to read. +Furthermore, when some would-be purchaser appeared, it often happened +that the book he offered to buy was one for which the erudite dealer +had acquired so strong an affection that he would not let it change +owners. Nor did his wife much endeavour to turn him from this +untradesmanlike course. Besides being a gentle and affectionate woman, +she had that admiration for learning which, like excessive warmth of +heart and certain other traits, I have observed to be common between +the Scotch (she was of Edinburgh, as I have said) and the best of the +Americans. + +Such was Philip's father, and when he died of some trouble of the +heart, there was nothing for his widow to do but continue the +business. She did this with more success than the doctor had had, +though many a time it smote her heart to sell some book of those that +her husband had loved, and to the backs of which she had become +attached for his sake and through years of acquaintance. But the +necessities of her little boy and herself cried out, and so did the +debt her husband had accumulated as tangible result of his business +career. By providing books of a less scholarly, more popular +character, such as novels, sermons, plays, comic ballads, religious +poems, and the like; as well as by working with her needle, and +sometimes copying legal and other documents, Mrs. Winwood managed to +keep the kettle boiling. And in the bookselling and the copying, she +soon came to have the aid of Philip. + +The boy, too, loved books passionately, finding in them consolation +for the deprivations incidental to his poverty. But, being keenly +sympathetic, he had a better sense of his mother's necessities than +his father had shown, and to the amelioration of her condition and his +own, he sacrificed his love of books so far as to be, when occasion +offered, an uncomplaining seller of those he liked, and a dealer in +those he did not like. His tastes were, however, broader than his +father's, and he joyfully lost himself in the novels and plays his +father would have disdained. + +He read, indeed, everything he could put his hands on, that had, to +his mind, reason, or wit, or sense, or beauty. Many years later, when +we were in London, his scholarly yet modest exposition of a certain +subject eliciting the praise of a group in a Pall Mall tavern, and he +being asked "What university he was of," he answered, with a playful +smile, "My father's bookshop." It was, indeed, his main school of +book-learning. But, as I afterward told him, he had studied in the +university of life also. However, I am now writing of his boyhood in +Philadelphia; and of that there is only this left to be said. + +In catering to his mind, he did not neglect bodily skill either. His +early reading of Plutarch and other warlike works had filled him with +desire to emulate the heroes of battle. An old copy of Saviolo's book +on honour and fence, written in the reign of Elizabeth, or James, I +forget which, had in some manner found its way to his father's +shelves; and from this Philip secretly obtained some correct ideas of +swordsmanship.[2] Putting them in practice one day in the shop, with a +stick, when he thought no one was looking, he suddenly heard a cry of +"bravo" from the street door, and saw he was observed by a Frenchman, +who had recently set up in Philadelphia as a teacher of fencing, +dancing, and riding. This expert, far from allowing Philip to be +abashed, complimented and encouraged him; entered the shop, and made +friends with him. The lad, being himself as likable as he found the +lively foreigner interesting, became in time something of a comrade to +the fencing master. The end of this was that, in real or pretended +return for the loan of Saviolo's book, the Frenchman gave Philip a +course of instruction and practice in each of his three arts. + +To these the boy added, without need of a teacher, the ability to +shoot, both with gun and with pistol. I suppose it was from being so +much with his mother, between whom and himself there must have existed +the most complete devotion, that notwithstanding his manly and +scholarly accomplishments, his heart, becoming neither tough like the +sportsman's nor dry like the bookworm's, remained as tender as a +girl's--or rather as a girl's is commonly supposed to be. His mother's +death, due to some inward ailment of which the nature was a problem to +the doctors, left him saddened but too young to be embittered. And +this was the Philip Winwood--grave and shy from having been deprived +too much of the company of other boys, but with certain mental and +bodily advantages of which too much of that company would have +deprived him--who was taken into the house of the Faringfields in the +Summer of 1763. + +The footing on which he should remain there was settled the very +morning after his arrival. Mr. Faringfield, a rigid and prudent man, +but never a stingy one, made employment for him as a kind of messenger +or under clerk in his warehouse. The boy fell gratefully into the new +life, passing his days in and about the little counting-room that +looked out on Mr. Faringfield's wharf on the East River. He found it +dull work, the copying of invoices, the writing of letters to +merchants in other parts of the world, the counting of articles of +cargo, and often the bearing a hand in loading or unloading some +schooner or dray; but as beggars should not be choosers, so +beneficiaries should not be complainers, and Philip kept his feelings +to himself. + +Mr. Faringfield was an exacting master, whose rule was that his men +should never be idle, even at times when there seemed nothing to do. +If no task was at hand, they should seek one; and if none could be +found, he was like to manufacture one. Thus was Phil denied the +pleasure of brightening or diversifying his day with reading, for +which he could have found time enough. He tried to be interested in +his work, and he in part succeeded, somewhat by good-fellowship with +the jesting, singing, swearing wharfmen and sailors, somewhat by +dwelling often on the thought that he was filling his small place in a +great commerce which touched so distant shores, and so many countries, +of the world. He used to watch the vessels sail, on the few and +far-between days when there were departures, and wish, with inward +sighs, that he might sail with them. A longing to see the great world, +the Europe of history, the Britain of his ancestors, had been +implanted in him by his reading, before he had come to New York, and +the desire was but intensified by his daily contact with the one end +of a trade whose other end lay beyond the ocean. + +Outside of the hours of business, Philip's place was that of a member +of the Faringfield household, where, save in the one respect that +after his first night it was indeed the garret room that fell to him, +he was on terms of equality with the children. Ned alone, of them all, +affected toward him the manner of a superior to a dependent. Whatever +were Philip's feelings regarding this attitude of the elder son, he +kept them locked within, and had no more to say to Master Ned than +absolute civility required. With the two girls and little Tom, and +with me, he was, evenings and Sundays, the pleasantest playfellow in +the world. + +Ungrudgingly he gave up to us, once we had made the overtures, the +time he would perhaps rather have spent over his books; for he had +brought a few of these from Philadelphia, a fact which accounted for +the exceeding heaviness of his travelling bag, and he had access, of +course, to those on Mr. Faringfield's shelves. His compliance with our +demands was the more kind, as I afterward began to see, for that his +day's work often left him quite tired out. Of this we never thought; +we were full of the spirits pent up all day at school, Madge and Fanny +being then learners at the feet of a Boston maiden lady in our street, +while I yawned and idled my hours away on the hard benches of a Dutch +schoolmaster near the Broadway, under whom Ned Faringfield also was a +student. But fresh as we were, and tired as Philip was, he was always +ready for a romp in our back yard, or a game of hide-and-seek in the +Faringfields' gardens, or a chase all the way over to the Bowling +Green, or all the way up to the Common where the town ended and the +Bowery lane began. + +But it soon came out that Phil's books were not neglected, either. The +speed with which his candles burnt down, and required renewal, told of +nocturnal studies in his garret. As these did not perceptibly +interfere with his activity the next day, they were viewed by Mr. +Faringfield rather with commendation than otherwise, and so were +allowed to continue. My mother thought it a sin that no one interfered +to prevent the boy's injuring his health; but when she said this to +Phil himself, he only smiled and answered that if his reading did cost +him anything of health, 'twas only fair a man should pay something for +his pleasures. + +My mother's interest in the matter arose from a real liking. She saw +much of Philip, for he and the three younger Faringfields were as +often about our house as about their own. Ours was not nearly as fine; +'twas a white-painted wooden house, like those in New England, but +roomy enough for its three only occupants, my mother and me and the +maid. We were not rich, but neither were we of the poorest. My father, +the predecessor of Mr. Aitken in the customs office, had left +sufficient money in the English funds at his death, to keep us in the +decent circumstances we enjoyed, and there was yet a special fund +reserved for my education. So we could be neighbourly with the +Faringfields, and were so; and so all of us children, including +Philip, were as much at home in the one house as in the other. + +One day, in the Fall of that year of Philip's arrival, we young ones +were playing puss-in-a-corner in the large garden--half orchard, half +vegetable plantation--that formed the rear of the Faringfields' +grounds. It was after Phil's working hours, and a pleasant, cool, +windy evening. The maple leaves were yellowing, the oak leaves turning +red. I remember how the wind moved the apple-tree boughs, and the +yellow corn-stalks waiting to be cut and stacked as fodder. (When I +speak of corn, I do not use the word in the English sense, of grain in +general, but in the American sense, meaning maize, of which there are +two kinds, the sweet kind being most delicious to eat, as either kind +is a beautiful sight when standing in the field, the tall stalks +waving their many arms in the breeze.) We were all laughing, and +running from tree to tree, when in from the front garden came Ned, his +face wearing its familiar cruel, bullying, spoil-sport smile. + +The wind blowing out Madge's brown hair as she ran, I suppose put him +in mind of what to do. For all at once, clapping his hand to his +mouth, and imitating the bellowing war-whoop of an Indian, he rushed +upon us in that character, caught hold of Madge's hair, and made off +as if to drag her away by it. She, screaming, tried to resist, but of +course could not get into an attitude for doing so while he pulled her +so fast. The end of it was, that she lost her balance and fell, thus +tearing her hair from his grasp. + +I, being some distance away, picked up an apple and flung it at the +persecutor's head, which I missed by half an inch. Before I could +follow the apple, Philip had taken the work out of my hands. + +"You are a savage," said Phil, in a low voice, but with a fiery eye, +confronting Ned at close quarters. + +"And what are you?" replied young Faringfield promptly. "You're a +beggar, that's what you are! A beggar that my father took in." + +For a moment or two Phil regarded his insulter in amazed silence; then +answered: + +"If only you weren't her brother!" + +Here Madge spoke up, from the ground on which she sat: + +"Oh, don't let that stop you, Phil!" + +"I sha'n't," said Phil, with sudden decision, and the next instant the +astounded Ned was recoiling from a solid blow between the eyes. + +Of course he immediately returned the compliment in kind, and as Ned +was a strong fellow, Phil had all he could do to hold his own in the +ensuing scuffle. How long this might have lasted, I don't know, had +not Fanny run between, with complete disregard of her own safety, +calling out: + +"Oh, Phil, you mustn't hurt Ned!" + +Her interposition being aided on the other side by little Tom, who +seized Ned's coat-tails and strove to pull him away from injuring +Philip, the two combatants, their boyish belligerence perhaps having +had enough for the time, separated, both panting. + +"I'll have it out with you yet!" said Master Ned, short-windedly, +adjusting his coat, and glaring savagely. + +"All right!" said Phil, equally out of breath. Ned then left the +field, with a look of contempt for the company. + +After that, things went on in the old pleasant manner, except that +Ned, without any overt act to precipitate a fight, habitually treated +Phil with a most annoying air of scorn and derision. This, though +endured silently, was certainly most exasperating. + +But it had not to be endured much of the time, for Ned had grown more +and more to disdain our society, and to cultivate companions superior +to us in years and knowledge of the world. They were, indeed, a smart, +trick-playing, swearing set, who aped their elders in drinking, +dicing, card-gambling, and even in wenching. Their zest in this +imitation was the greater for being necessarily exercised in secret +corners, and for their freshness to the vices they affected. + +I do not say I was too good for this company and their practices; or +that Philip was either. Indeed we had more than a mere glimpse of +both, for boys, no matter how studious or how aspiring in the long +run, will see what life they can; will seek the taste of forbidden +fruit, and will go looking for temptations to yield to. Indeed, the +higher a boy's intelligence, the more eager may be his curiosity for, +his first enjoyment of, the sins as well as the other pleasures. What +banished us--Philip and me--from Ned's particular set was, first, +Ned's enmity toward us; second, our attachment to a clan of boys +equally bent on playing the rake in secret, though of better +information and manners than Ned's comrades could boast of; third, +Phil's fondness for books, and mine for him; and finally, our love for +Madge. + +This last remained unaltered in both of us. As for Madge, as I had +predicted to myself, she had gradually restored me to my old place in +her consideration as the novelty of Philip's newer devotion had worn +off. We seemed now to be equals in her esteem. At one time Phil would +apparently stand uppermost there, at another I appeared to be +preferred. But this alternating superiority was usually due to casual +circumstance. Sometimes, I suppose, it owed itself to caprice; +sometimes, doubtless, to deep design unsuspected by either of us. Boys +are not men until they are well grown; but women are women from their +first compliment. On the whole, as I have said, Phil and I were very +even rivals. + +It was sometime in the winter--Philip's first winter with the +Faringfields--that the next outbreak came, between him and Master +Edward. If ever the broad mansion of the Faringfields looked warm and +welcoming, it was in midwinter. The great front doorway, with its +fanlight above, and its panel windows at each side, through which the +light shone during the long evenings, and with its broad stone steps +and out-curving iron railings, had then its most hospitable aspect. +One evening that it looked particularly inviting to me, was when Ned +and the two girls and I were returning with our skates from an +afternoon spent on Beekman's pond. Large flakes were falling softly on +snow already laid. Darkness had caught up with us on the way home, and +when we came in sight of the cheery light enframing the Faringfields' +wide front door, and showing also from the windows at one side, I was +not sorry I was to eat supper with them that evening, my mother having +gone sleighing to visit the Murrays at Incledon, with whom she was to +pass the night. As we neared the door, tired and hungry, whom should +we see coming toward it from the other direction but Philip Winwood. +He had worked over the usual time at the warehouse. Before the girls +or I could exchange halloes with Phil, we were all startled to hear +Ned call out to him, in a tone even more imperious than the words: + +"Here, you, come and take my skates, and carry them in, and tell +mother I've stopped at Jack Van Cortlandt's house a minute." + +And he stood waiting for Phil to do his bidding. The rest of us +halted, also; while Phil stopped where he was, looking as if he could +not have heard aright. + +"Come, are you deaf?" cried Ned, impatiently. "Do as you're bid, and +be quick about it." + +Now, of course, there was nothing wrong in merely asking a comrade, as +one does ask a comrade such things, to carry in one's skates while one +stopped on the way. No one was ever readier than Phil to do such +little offices, or great ones either. Indeed, it is the American way +to do favours, even when not requested, and even to inferiors. I have +seen an American gentleman of wealth go in the most natural manner to +the assistance of his own servant in a task that seemed to overtax the +latter, and think nothing of it. But in the case I am relating; apart +from the fact that I, being nearer than Phil, was the proper one of +whom to ask the favour; the phrase and manner were those of a master +to a servant; a rough master and a stupid servant, moreover. And so +Philip, after a moment, merely laughed, and went on his way toward the +door. + +At this Master Ned stepped forward with the spirit of chastisement in +his eyes, his skates held back as if he meant to strike Phil with +their sharp blades. But it happened that Philip had by now mounted the +first door-step, and thus stood higher than his would-be assailant. So +Master Ned stopped just out of Philip's reach, and said insolently: + +"'Tis time you were taught your place, young fellow. You're one of my +father's servants, that's all; so take in my skates, or I'll show +you." + +"You're wrong there," said Phil, with forced quietness. "A clerk or +messenger, in business, is not a personal servant." + +"Take in these skates, or I'll brain you with 'em!" cried Ned, to +that. + +"Come on and brain!" cried Phil. + +"By G----d, I will that!" replied Ned, and made to swing the skates +around by the straps. But his arm was, at that instant, caught in a +powerful grip, and, turning about in surprise, he looked into the +hard, cold eyes of his father, who had come up unseen, having stayed; +at the warehouse even later than Phil. + +"If any blows are struck here, you sha'n't be the one to strike them, +sir," he said to Ned. "What's this I hear, of servants? I'll teach you +once for all, young man, that in my house Philip is your equal. Go to +your room and think of that till it becomes fixed in your mind." + +To go without supper, with such an appetite, on such a cold night, was +indeed a dreary end for such a day's sport. I, who knew how chilled +and starved Ned must be, really pitied him. + +But instead of slinking off with a whimper, he for the first time in +his life showed signs of revolt. + +"What if I don't choose to go to my room?" he answered, impudently, to +our utmost amazement. "You may prefer an outside upstart over your +son, if you like, but you can't always make your son a prisoner by the +ordering." + +Mr. Faringfield showed little of the astonishment and paternal wrath +he doubtless felt. He gazed coldly at his defiant offspring a moment; +then took a step toward him. But Ned, with the agility of boyhood, +turned and ran, looking back as he went, and stopping only when he was +at a safe distance. + +"Come back," called his father, not risking his dignity in a doubtful +pursuit, but using such a tone that few would dare to disobey the +command. + +"Suppose I don't choose to come back," answered Ned, to whose head the +very devil had now certainly mounted. "Maybe there's other places to +go to, where one doesn't have to stand by and see an upstart beggar +preferred to himself, and put in his place, and fed on the best while +he's lying hungry in his dark room." + +"If there's another place for you, I'd advise you to find it," said +Mr. Faringfield, after a moment's reflection. + +"Oh, I'll find it," was the reply; and then came what Master Ned knew +would be the crowning taunt and insult to his father. "If it comes to +the worst, I know how I can get to England, where I'd rather be, +anyway." + +There was a reason why Mr. Faringfield's face turned dark as a +thunder-cloud at this. You must know, first, that in him alone was +embodied the third generation of colonial Faringfields. The founder of +the American branch of the family, having gone pretty nearly to the +dogs at home, and got into close quarters with the law, received from +his people the alternative of emigrating to Virginia or suffering +justice to take its course. Tossing up his last sixpence, he +indifferently observed, on its coming down, that it lay in favour of +Virginia. So he chose emigration, and was shipped off, upon condition +that if he ever again set foot in England he should be forthwith +turned over to the merciless law. His relations, as he perceived, +cherished the hope that he would die of a fever likely to be caught on +the piece of marshy land in Virginia which they, in a belief that it +was worthless, had made over to him. Pondering on this on the voyage, +and perhaps having had his fill of the flesh and the devil, he +resolved to disappoint his family. And, to make short a very long +story of resolution and toil, he did so, becoming at last one of the +richest tobacco-planters in the province. + +He might now have returned to England with safety; but his resentment +against the people who had exiled him when they might have compounded +with justice otherwise, extended even to their country, which he no +longer called his, and he abode still by the condition of his +emigration. He married a woman who had her own special reasons for +inimical feelings toward the English authorities, which any one may +infer who is familiar with one phase (though this was not as large a +phase as English writers seem to think) of the peopling of Virginia. +Although she turned over a new leaf in the province, and seems to have +been a model wife and parent, she yet retained a sore heart against +the mother country. The feeling of these two was early inculcated into +the minds of their children, and their eldest son, in whom it amounted +almost to a mania, transmitted it on to his own successor, our Mr. +Faringfield of Queen Street. + +The second Faringfield (father of ours), being taken with a desire for +the civilities and refinements of a town life, moved from Virginia to +New York, married there a very worthy lady of Dutch patroon descent, +and, retaining his Virginia plantation, gradually extended his +business, so that he died a general merchant, with a European and a +West Indian trade, and with vessels of his own. He it was that built +the big Faringfield house in Queen Street. He was of an aspiring mind, +for one in trade, and had even a leaning toward book-knowledge and the +ornaments of life. He was, moreover, an exceedingly proud man, as if a +haughty way were needful to a man of business and an American, in +order to check the contempt with which he might be treated as either. +His large business, his pride, his unreasonable hatred of England +(which he never saw), and a very fine and imposing appearance, he +passed down to our Mr. Faringfield, by whom all these inheritances +were increased. This gentleman, sensible of the injustice of an +inherited dislike not confirmed by experience, took occasion of some +business to make a visit to England, shortly after his father's death. +I believe he called upon his English cousins, now some degrees +removed, and, finding them in their generation ignorant that there +were any American Faringfields, was so coldly received by them, as +well as by the men with whom his business brought him in contact, that +he returned more deeply fixed in his dislike, and with a determination +that no Faringfield under his control should ever again breathe the +air of the mother island. He even chose a wife of French, rather than +English, descent; though, indeed, the De Lanceys, notwithstanding they +were Americans of Huguenot origin, were very good Englishmen, as the +issue proved when the separation came. + +Miss De Lancey, however, at that time, had no views or feelings as +between the colonies and England; or if she had any, scarcely knew +what they were. She was a pretty, innocent, small-minded woman; with +no very large heart either, I fancy; and without force of character; +sometimes a little shrewish when vexed, and occasionally given to +prolonged whining complaints, which often won the point with her +husband, as a persistent mosquito will drive a man from a field whence +a giant's blows would not move him. She heard Mr. Faringfield's +tirades against England, with neither disagreement nor assent; and she +let him do what he could to instil his own antagonism into the +children. How he succeeded, or failed, will appear in time. I have +told enough to show why Master Ned's threatening boast, of knowing how +to get to England, struck his father like a blow in the face. + +I looked to see Mr. Faringfield now stride forth at all risk and +inflict upon Master Ned some chastisement inconceivable; and Ned +himself took a backward step or two. But his father, after a moment of +dark glowering, merely answered, though in a voice somewhat unsteady +with anger: + +"To England or the devil, my fine lad, before ever you enter my door, +until you change your tune!" + +Whereupon he motioned the rest of us children to follow him into the +house, leaving his eldest son to turn and trudge defiantly off into +the darkness. From Ned's manner of doing this, I knew that he was sure +of shelter for that night, at least. Noah, the old black servant, +having seen his master through the panel windows, had already opened +the door; and so we went in to the warm, candle-lit hall, Mr. +Faringfield's agitation now perfectly under control, and his anger +showing not at all upon his surface of habitual sternness. + +As for the others, Phil walked in a kind of deep, troubled study, into +which he had been thrown by Ned's words regarding him; I was awed into +breathless silence and a mouse-like tread; and kind little Fanny went +gently sobbing with sorrow and fear for her unhappy brother--a sorrow +and fear not shared in the least degree by her sister Madge, whose +face showed triumphant approval of her father's course and of the +outcome. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_Wherein 'tis Shown that Boys Are but Boys._ + + +The Faringfield house, as I have said, was flanked by garden space on +either side. It was on the Eastern side of the street, and so faced +West, the next house Southward being ours. The wide hall that we +entered ran straight back to a door opening from a wooden veranda that +looked toward the rear garden. At the right of this hall, as you went +in, a broad oak stairway invited you to the sleeping floor above. But +before you came to this stairway, you passed a door that gave into the +great parlour, which ran the whole length of the hall, and, being used +only on occasions of festivity or ceremony, was now closed and dark. +At the left of the hall, the first door led to the smaller parlour, as +wide but not as long as the great one, and in daily use as the chief +living-room of the house. Its windows were those through which the +candle-light within had welcomed us from the frosty, snowy air that +evening. Behind this parlour, and reached either directly from it, or +by a second door at the left side of the hall, was the library, +so-called although a single case of eight shelves sufficed to hold all +the books it contained. Yet Philip said there was a world in those +books. The room was a small and singularly cosy one, and here, when +Mr. Faringfield was not occupied at the mahogany desk, we children +might play at chess, draughts, cards, and other games. From this room, +one went back into the dining-room, another apartment endeared to me +by countless pleasant memories. Its two windows looked Southward +across the side grounds (for the hall and great parlour came not so +far back) to our house and garden. Behind the dining-room, and +separating it from the kitchen and pantry, was a passage with a back +stairway and with a bench of washing-basins, easily supplied with +water from a cistern below, and from the kettle in the adjacent +kitchen. To this place we youngsters now hastened, to put ourselves to +rights for supper. The house was carpeted throughout. The great +parlour was panelled in wood, white and gold. The other chief rooms +were wainscoted in oak; and as to their upper walls, some were bright +with French paper, while some shone white with smooth plaster; their +ceilings and borders were decorated with arabesque woodwork. There +were tiled fireplaces, with carved mantels, white, like the +rectangular window-frames and panelled doors. Well, well, 'twas but a +house like countless others, and why should I so closely describe +it?--save that I love the memory of it, and fain would linger upon its +commonest details. + +Mighty snug was the dining-room that evening, with its oaken +sideboard, its prints and portraits on the wall, its sputtering fire, +and its well-filled table lighted from a candelabrum in the centre. +The sharp odour of the burning pine was keen to the nostrils, and +mingled with it was the smell of the fried ham. There was the softer +fragrance of the corn meal mush or porridge, served with milk, and +soft was the taste of it also. We had sausage cakes, too, and pancakes +to be eaten either with butter or with the syrup of the maple-tree; +and jam, and jelly, and fruit butter. These things seem homely fare, +no doubt, but there was a skill of cookery in the fat old negress, +Hannah--a skill consisting much in the plentiful use of salt and +pepper at proper stages--that would have given homelier fare a relish +to more fastidious tongues. I miss in the wholesome but limited and +unseasoned diet of the English the variety and savouriness of American +food (I mean the food of the well-to-do in the large towns), which +includes all the English and Scotch dishes, corrected of their +insipidity, besides countless dishes French, German, and Dutch, and +many native to the soil, all improved and diversified by the +surprising genius for cookery which, in so few generations, the negro +race has come to exhibit. I was a busy lad at that meal; a speechless +one, consequently, and for some minutes so engrossed in the business +of my jaws that I did not heed the unwonted silence of the rest. Then +suddenly it came upon me as something embarrassing and painful that +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, who usually conversed at meals, had nothing +to say, and that Philip Winwood sat gloomy and taciturn, merely going +through a hollow form of eating. As for Fanny, she was the picture of +childish sorrow, though now tearless. Only Madge and little Tom, who +had found some joke between themselves, occasionally spluttered with +suppressed laughter, smiling meanwhile knowingly at each other. + +Of course this depression was due to the absence of Ned, regarding the +cause of which his mother was still in the dark. Not missing him until +we children had filed in to supper after tidying up, she had then +remarked that he was not yet in. + +"He will not be home to supper," Mr. Faringfield had replied, in a +tone that forbade questioning until the pair should be alone, and +motioning his wife to be seated at the table. After that he had once +or twice essayed to talk upon casual subjects, as if nothing had +happened, but he had perceived that the attempt was hopeless while +Mrs. Faringfield remained in her state of deferred curiosity and vague +alarm, and so he had desisted. + +After supper, which the lady's impatience made shorter than my +appetite would have dictated, the husband and wife went into the small +parlour, closing the door upon us children in the library. Here I +managed to make a pleasant evening, in games with Madge and little Tom +upon the floor. But Philip, though he came in as was his wont, was not +to be lured into our play or our talk. He did not even read, but sat +silent and pondering, in no cheerful mood. I, not reading him as Madge +did, knew not what the matter was, and accused him of having vapours, +like a girl. He looked at me heedlessly, in reply, as if he scarce +heard. But Madge, apparently, divined his feeling, and at times +respected it, for then she spoke low, and skilfully won me back from +my efforts to enliven him. At other times, his way seemed to irritate +her, and she hinted that he was foolish, and then she was +extraordinarily smiling and adorable to me (always, I now suspect, +with the corner of her eye upon him) as if to draw him back to his +usual good-fellowship by that method. But 'twas in vain. I left at +bedtime, wondering what change had come over him. + +That night, I learned afterward, Philip slept little, debating +sorrowfully in his mind. He kept his window slightly open at night, in +all weather; and open also that night was one of the windows of Mr. +and Mrs. Faringfield's great chamber below. A sound that reached him +in the small hours, of Mrs. Faringfield whimpering and weeping, +decided him. And the next morning, after another silent meal, he +contrived to fall into Mr. Faringfield's company on the way to the +warehouse, which they had almost reached ere Phil, very down in the +mouth and perturbed, got up his courage to his unpleasant task and +blundered out in a boyish, frightened way: + +"If you please, sir, I wished to tell you--I've made up my mind to +leave--and thank you very much for all your kindness!" + +Mr. Faringfield stared from under his gathered brows, and asked Phil +to repeat the strange thing he had said. + +"Leave what, sir?" he queried sharply, when Phil had done so. + +"Leave your warehouse, sir; and your house; and New York." + +"What do you mean, my boy?" + +And Phil, thankful that Mr. Faringfield had paused to have the talk +out ere they should come among the men at the warehouse, explained at +first in vague terms, but finally in the explicit language to which +his benefactor's questions forced him, that he seemed, in Master Ned's +mind, to be standing in Ned's way; that he would not for the world +appear to supplant any man's son, much less the son of one who had +been so kind to him; that he had unintentionally been the cause of +Ned's departure the evening before; and that he hoped his going would +bring Ned back from the absence which caused his mother grief. "And I +wouldn't stay in New York after leaving you, sir," he said, "for +'twould look as if you and I had disagreed." + +To all this Mr. Faringfield replied briefly that Ned was a foolish +boy, and would soon enough come back, glad of what welcome he might +get; and that, as for Philip's going away, it was simply not to be +heard of. But Phil persisted, conceding only that he should remain at +the warehouse for an hour that morning and complete a task he had left +unfinished. Mr. Faringfield still refused to have it that Phil should +go at all. + +When Philip had done his hour's work, he went in to his employer's +office to say good-bye. + +"Tut, tut," said Mr. Faringfield, looking annoyed at the interruption, +"there's no occasion for goodbyes. But look you, lad. I don't mind +your taking the day off, to put yourself into a reasonable state of +mind. Go home, and enjoy a holiday, and come back to your work +to-morrow, fresh and cheerful. Now, now, boy, I won't hear any more. +Only do as I bid you." And he assumed a chilling reserve that indeed +froze all further possible discussion. + +"But I do say good-bye, sir, and mean it," said Phil, tremulously. +"And I thank you from my heart for all you've done for me." + +And so, with a lump in his throat, Phil hastened home, and sped up the +stairs unseen, like a ghost; and had all his things out on his bed for +packing, when suddenly Madge, who had been astonished to hear him +moving about, from her mother's room below, flung open his door and +looked in upon him, all amazed. + +"Why, Phil, what are you doing home at this hour? What are you putting +your things into your valise for?" + +"Oh, nothing," said Phil, very downcast. + +"Why, it looks as if--you were going away somewhere." + +Phil made a brief answer; and then there was a long talk, all the +while he continued to pack his goods, in his perturbation stowing +things together in strange juxtaposition. The end of it was that +Madge, after vowing that if he went she would never speak to him +again, and would hate him for ever, indignantly left him to himself. +Phil went on packing, in all the outward calmness he could muster, +though I'll wager with a very pouting and dismal countenance. At last, +his possessions being bestowed, and the bag fastened with much +physical exertion, he left it on the bed, and slipped down-stairs to +find his one remaining piece of property. Philip's cat had waxed plump +in the Faringfield household, Master Ned always deterred from harming +it by the knowledge that if aught ill befell it, the finger of +accusation would point instantly and surely at him. + +Phil was returning up the stairs, his pet under his arm, when Mistress +Madge reappeared before him, with magic unexpectedness, from a doorway +opening on a landing. As she stood in his way there, he stopped, and +the two faced each other. + +"Well," said she, with sarcastic bitterness, "I suppose you've decided +where you're going to." + +"Not yet," he replied. He had thought vaguely of Philadelphia or +Boston, either of which he now had means of reaching, having saved +most of his small salary at the warehouse, for he was not a bound +apprentice. + +"I make no doubt," she went on, "'twill be the farthest place you can +find." + +Phil gave her a reproachful look, and asked where her mother and the +children were, that he might bid them good-bye. He wondered, indeed, +that Madge had not told her mother of his resolve, for, from that +lady's not seeking him at once, he knew that she was still unaware of +it. He little guessed that 'twas the girl's own power over him she +wished to test, and that she would not enlist her mother's persuasions +but as a last resource. + +"I don't know," she replied carelessly. + +"I shall look for them," said Philip, and turned to go down-stairs +again. + +But (though how could a boy imagine it?) Miss Faringfield would not +have it that his yielding should be due to her mother, if it could be +achieved as a victory for herself. So she stopped him with a sudden +tremulous "Oh, Phil!" and, raising her forearm to the door-post, hid +her face against it, and wept as if her heart would break. + +Philip had never before known her to shed a tear, and this new +spectacle, in a second's time, took all the firmness out of him. + +"Why, Madge, I didn't know--don't cry, Madgie--" + +She turned swiftly, without looking up, and her face, still in a +shower of tears, found hiding no longer against the door-post, but +against Phil's breast. + +"Don't cry, Madgie dear,--I sha'n't go!" + +She raised her wet face, joy sparkling where the lines had not yet +lost the shape of grief; and Phil never thought to ask himself how +much of her pleasure was for his not going, and how much for the +evidence given of her feminine power. He had presently another thing +to consider, a not very palatable dose to swallow--the returning to +the warehouse and telling Mr. Faringfield of his change of mind. He +did this awkwardly enough, no doubt, but manfully enough, I'll take my +oath, though he always said he felt never so tamed and small and +ludicrous in his life, before or after. + +And that scene upon the landing is the last picture, but one, I have +to present of childhood days, ere I hasten, over the period that +brought us all into our twenties and to strange, eventful times. The +one remaining sketch is of an unkempt, bedraggled figure that I saw at +the back hall door of the Faringfields one snowy night a week later, +when, for some reason or other, I was out late in our back garden. +This person, instead of knocking at the door, very cautiously tried it +to see if it would open, and, finding it locked, stood timidly back +and gazed at it in a quandary. Suspecting mischief, I went to the +paling fence that separated our ground from the Faringfields', and +called out, "Who's that?" + +"Hallo, Bert!" came in a very conciliating tone, low-spoken; and then, +as with a sudden thought, "Come over here, will you?" + +I crossed the fence, and was in a moment at the side of Master Ned, +who looked exceedingly the worse for wear, in face, figure, and +clothes. + +"Look here," said he, speaking rapidly, so as to prevent my touching +the subject of his return, "I want to sneak in, and up-stairs to bed, +without the old man seeing me. I don't just like to meet him till +to-morrow. But I can't sneak in, for the door's locked, and Noah would +be sure to tell dad. You knock, and when they let you in, pretend you +came to play with the kids; and whisper Fanny to slip out and open the +door for me." + +I entered readily into the strategy, as a boy will, glad of Ned's +return for the sake of Phil, who I knew was ill at ease for Ned's +absence being in some sense due to himself. + +Old Noah admitted me at my knock, locked the door after me, and sent +me into the smaller parlour, where the whole family happened to be. +When I whispered my message to Fanny, she turned so many colours, and +made so precipitately for the entrance hall, that her father was put +on the alert. He followed her quietly out, just in time to see a very +shivering, humble, shamefaced youth step in from the snowy outer +night. The sight of his father turned Ned cold and stiff upon the +threshold; but all the father did was to put on a grim look of +contempt, and say: + +"Well, sir, I suppose you've changed your tune." + +"Yes, sir," said the penitent, meekly, and there being now no reason +for secrecy he shambled after his father into the parlour. There, +after his mother's embrace, he grinned sheepishly upon us all. Fanny +was quite rejoiced, and so was little Tom till the novelty wore off; +while Madge greeted the prodigal good-humouredly enough, and one could +read Phil's relief and forgiveness on his smiling face. Master Ned, +grateful for an easier ordeal than he had feared, made no exception +against Phil in the somewhat sickly amiability he had for all, and we +thought that here were reconciliation and the assurance of future +peace. + +Ned's home-coming brought trouble in its train, as indeed did his +every reappearance afterward. It came out that he and another boy--the +one in whose house he had found refuge on the night of his running +away--had started off for the North to lead the lives of hunters and +trappers, a career so inviting that they could not wait to provide a +sufficient equipment. They travelled afoot by the Albany post-road, +soliciting food at farmhouses, passing their nights in barns; and got +as far as Tarrytown, ere either one in his pride would admit to the +other, through chattering teeth, that he had had his fill of snow and +hunger and the raw winds of the Hudson River. So footsore, leg-weary, +empty, and frozen were they on their way back, that they helped +themselves to one of Jacob Post's horses, near the Philipse +manor-house; and not daring to ride into town on this beast, +thoughtlessly turned it loose in the Bowery lane, never thinking how +certainly it and they could be traced--for they had been noticed at +Van Cortlandt's, again at Kingsbridge, and again at the Blue Bell +tavern. After receiving its liberty, the horse had been seen once, +galloping toward Turtle Bay, and never again. + +So, a few days after Ned's reentrance into the bosom of his family, +there came to the house a constable, of our own town, with a deputy +sent by the sheriff of Westchester County, wanting Master Edward +Faringfield. + +Frightened and disgraced, his mother sent for her husband; and for the +sake of the family name, Mr. Faringfield adjusted matters by the +payment of twice or thrice what the horse was worth. Thus the would-be +hunter and trapper escaped the discomfort and shame of jail; though by +his father's sentence he underwent a fortnight's detention on bread +and water in his bedroom. + +That was the first fright and humiliation that Master Ned brought on +his people; and he brought so many of these in after years, that the +time came when his parents, and all, were rather glad than sorry each +time he packed off again, and shuddered rather than rejoiced when, +after an absence, he turned up safe and healthy as ever, with his old +hangdog smile beneath which lurked a look half-defiant, half-injured. +As he grew older, and the boy in him made room for the man, there was +less of the smile, less injury, more defiance. + +I do not remember how many years it was after Philip's coming to New +York, that our Dutch schoolmaster went the way of all flesh, and there +came in his place, to conduct a school for boys only and in more +advanced studies, a pedagogue from Philadelphia, named Cornelius. He +was of American birth, but of European parentage, whether German or +Dutch I never knew. Certainly he had learning, and much more than was +due alone to his having gone through the college at Princeton in New +Jersey. He was in the early twenties, tall and robust, with a large +round face, and with these peculiarities: that his hair, eyebrows, and +lashes were perfectly white, his eyes of a singularly mild blue, his +skin of a pinkish tint; that he was given to blushing whenever he met +women or strangers, and that he spoke with pedantic preciseness, in a +wondrously low voice. But despite his bashfulness, there was a great +deal in the man, and when an emergency rose he never lacked resource. + +He it was to whom my education, and Ned Faringfield's, was entrusted, +while the girls and little Tom still strove with the rudiments in the +dame-school. He it was that carried us to the portals of college; and +I carried Philip Winwood thither with me, by studying my lessons with +him in the evenings. In many things he was far beyond Mr. Cornelius's +highest teaching; but there had been lapses in his information, and +these he filled up, and regulated his knowledge as well, through +accompanying me in my progress. And he continued so to accompany me, +making better use of my books than ever I made, as I went through the +King's College; and that is the way in which Phil Winwood got his +stock of learning eked out, and put in due shape and order. + +It happened that Philip's taste fastened upon one subject of which +there was scarce anything to be learned by keeping pace with my +studies, but upon which much was to be had from books in the college +library, of which I obtained the use for him. It was a strange subject +for a youth to take up at that time, or any time since, and in that +colonial country--architecture. Yet 'twas just like Phil Winwood to be +interested in something that all around him neglected or knew nothing +about. What hope an American could have in the pursuit of an art, for +which the very rare demands in his country were supplied from Europe, +and which indeed languished the world over, I could not see. + +"Very well, then," said Phil, "'twill be worth while trying to waken +this sleeping art, and to find a place for it in this out-of-the-way +country. I wouldn't presume to attempt new forms, to be sure; but one +might revive some old ones, and maybe try new arrangements of them." + +"Then you think you'll really be an architect?" I asked. + +"Why, if it's possible. 'Faith, I'm not so young any more that I still +want to be a soldier, or a sailor either. One thing, 'twill take years +of study; I'll have to go to Europe for that." + +"To England?" + +"First of all." + +"What will Mr. Faringfield say to that?" + +"He will not mind it so much in my case. I'm not of the Faringfield +blood." + +"Egad," said I, "there's some of the Faringfield blood hankers for a +sight of London." + +"Whose? Ned's?" + +"No. Margaret's." + +We were young men now, and she would not let us call her Madge any +more. What I had said was true. She had not grown up without hearing +and reading much of the great world beyond the sea, and wishing she +might have her taste of its pleasures. She first showed a sense of her +deprivation--for it was a deprivation for a rich man's daughter--when +she finished at the dame-school and we boys entered college. Then she +hinted, very cautiously, that her and Fanny's education was being +neglected, and mentioned certain other New York gentlemen's daughters, +who had been sent to England to boarding-schools. + +Delicately as she did this, the thought that his favourite child could +harbour a wish that involved going to England, was a blow to Mr. +Faringfield. He hastened to remove all cause of complaint on the score +of defective education. He arranged that the music teacher, who gave +the girls their lessons in singing and in playing upon the harpsichord +and guitar, should teach them four days a week instead of two. He +engaged Mr. Cornelius to become an inmate of his house and to give +them tuition out of his regular school hours. He paid a French widow +to instruct them in their pronunciation, their book-French and grammar +being acquired under Mr. Cornelius's teaching. And so, poor girls, +they got only additional work for Margaret's pains. But both of them +were docile, Fanny because it was her nature to be so, Margaret +because she had taken it into her head to become an accomplished lady. +We never guessed her dreams and ambitions in those years, and to this +day I often wonder at what hour in her girlhood the set design took +possession of her, that design which dominated all her actions when we +so little guessed its existence. Besides these three instructors, the +girls had their dancing-master, an Englishman who pretended to impart +not only the best-approved steps of a London assembly-room, but its +manners and graces as well. + +So much for the education of the girls, Philip, and myself. Ned +Faringfield's was interrupted by his expulsion from King's for gross +misconduct; and was terminated by his disgrace at Yale College +(whither his father had sent him in vain hope that he might behave +better away from home and more self-dependent) for beating a smaller +student whom he had cheated at a clandestine game of cards. His +home-coming on this occasion was followed by his being packed off to +Virginia to play at superintending his father's tobacco plantations. +Neglecting this business to go shooting on the frontier, he got a +Scotch Presbyterian mountaineer's daughter into trouble; and when he +turned up again at the door in Queen Street, he was still shaky with +recollections of the mob of riflemen that had chased him out of +Virginia. That piece of sport cost his father a pretty penny, and +resulted in a place being got for Ned with a merchant who was Mr. +Faringfield's correspondent in the Barbadoes. So to the tropics the +young gentleman was shipped, with sighs of relief at his embarkation, +and--I have no doubt--with unuttered prayers that he might not show +his face in Queen Street for a long time to come. Already he had got +the name, in the family, of "the bad shilling," for his always coming +back unlooked for. + +How different was his younger brother!--no longer "little Tom" (though +of but middle height and slim build), but always gay-hearted, +affectionate, innocent, and a gentleman. He was a handsome lad, +without and within--yes, "lad" I must call him, for, though he came to +manly years, he always seemed a boy to me. He followed in our steps, +in his time, through Mr. Cornelius's school, and into King's College, +too, but the coming of the war cut short his studies there. + +It must have been in the year 1772--I remember Margaret spoke of her +being seventeen years old, in which case I was nineteen--when I got +(and speedily forgot) my first glimpse of Margaret's inmost mind. We +were at the play--for New York had had a playhouse ever since Mr. +Hallam had brought thither his company, with whom the great Garrick +had first appeared in London. I cannot recall what the piece was that +night; but I know it must have been a decent one, or Margaret would +not have been allowed to see it; and that it purported to set forth +true scenes of fashionable life in London. At one side of Margaret her +mother sat, at the other was myself, and I think I was that time their +only escort. + +"What a fright!" said Margaret in my ear, as one of the actresses came +upon the stage with an affected gait, and a look of thinking herself +mighty fine and irresistible. "'Tis a slander, this." + +"Of whom?" I asked. + +"Of the fine ladies these poor things pretend to represent." + +"How do you know?" I retorted, for I was somewhat taken with the +actresses, and thought to avenge them by bringing her down a peg or +two. "Have you seen so much of London fine ladies?" + +"No, poor me!" she said sorrowfully, without a bit of anger, so that I +was softened in a trice. "But the ladies of New York, even, are no +such tawdry make-believes as this.--Heaven knows, I would give ten +years of life for a sight of the fine world of London!" + +She was looking so divine at that moment, that I could not but +whisper: + +"You would see nothing finer there than yourself." + +"Do you think so?" she quickly asked, flashing her eyes upon me in a +strange way that called for a serious answer. + +"'Tis the God's truth," I said, earnestly. + +For a moment she was silent; then she whispered: + +"What a silly whimsy of my father, his hatred of England! Does he +imagine none of us is really ever to see the world?--That reminds me, +don't forget the _Town and Country Magazine_ to-morrow." + +I had once come upon a copy of that publication, which reflected the +high life of England, perhaps too much on its scandalous side; and had +shown it to Margaret. Immediately she had got me to subscribe for it, +and to pass each number clandestinely to her. I, delighted to do her a +favour, and to have a secret with her, complied joyously; and obtained +for her as many novels and plays as I could, as well. + +Little I fancied what bee I thus helped to keep buzzing in her pretty +head, which she now carried with all the alternate imperiousness and +graciousness of confident and proven beauty. Little I divined of +feminine dreams of conquest in larger fields; or foresaw of dangerous +fruit to grow from seed planted with thoughtlessness. To my mind, +nothing of harm or evil could ensue from anything done, or thought, in +our happy little group. To my eyes, the future could be only radiant +and triumphant. For I was still but a lad at heart, and to think as I +did, or to be thoughtless as I was, is the way of youth. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_How Philip and I Behaved as Rivals in Love._ + + +I was always impatient, and restless to settle uncertainties. One fine +morning in the Spring of 1773, Philip and I were breaking the Sabbath +by practising with the foils in our back garden. Spite of all the +lessons I had taken from an English fencing-master in the town, Phil +was still my superior in the gentlemanly art. After a bout, on this +sunshiny morning, we rested upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a +world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms +were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was +full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that +was in my mind came out. + +"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil--though 'tis none of my +business,--" + +"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know." + +"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you--any agreement or +understanding, I mean?" + +Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly. + +"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise +between her and you, either." + +"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves +about--Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pass, each +waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and +carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold." + +"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil. + +"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl +in town." + +"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all, +even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on +a step further than the rest." + +"Ay, but in time--she's eighteen now, you know." + +"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a +husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with, +and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret +accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van +Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or +Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them." + +"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men +couldn't see anything in." + +"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they +make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret +has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of +herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish +fop, or any of these that hang about her." + +'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered +men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and +unworthy. + +"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society." + +"But," said I, dubiously, "if none of them has a chance, how is it +with us?" + +"Why, 'tis well-proved that she doesn't tire of us. For years and +years, she has had us about her every day, and has been content with +our society. That shows she could endure us to be always near her." + +It was true, indeed. And I should explain here that, as things were in +America then, and with Mr. Faringfield and Margaret, neither of us was +entirely ineligible to the hand of so rich and important a man's +daughter; although the town would not have likened our chances to +those of a De Lancey, a Livingstone, or a Philipse. I ought to have +said before, that Philip was now of promising fortune. He had risen in +the employ of Mr. Faringfield, but, more than that, he had invested +some years' savings in one of that merchant's shipping ventures, and +had reinvested the profits, always upon his benefactor's advice, until +now his independence was a certain thing. If he indeed tried +architecture and it failed him as a means of livelihood, he might at +any time fall back upon his means and his experience as a merchant +adventurer. As for me, I also was a beneficiary of Mr. Faringfield's +mercantile transactions by sea, my mother, at his hint, having drawn +out some money from the English funds, and risked it with him. +Furthermore, I had obtained a subordinate post in the customs office, +with a promise of sometime succeeding to my father's old place, and +the certainty of remaining in his Majesty's service during good +behaviour. This meant for life, for I had now learned how to govern my +conduct, having schooled myself, for the sake of my mother's peace of +mind, to keep out of trouble, often against my natural impulses. Thus +both Phil and I might aspire to Margaret; and, moreover, 'twas like +that her father would provide well for her if she found a husband to +his approval. It did not then occur to me that my employment in the +English service might be against me in Mr. Faringfield's eyes. + +"Then," said I, reaching the main point at last, "as you think we are +endurable to her--which of us shall it be?" + +"Why, that question is for her to settle," said Phil, with a smile +half-amused, half-surprised. + +"But she will have to be asked. So which of us--?" + +"I don't think it matters," he replied. "If she prefers one of us, she +will take him and refuse the other, whether he ask first or last." + +"But suppose she likes us equally. In that case, might not the first +asker win, merely for his being first?" + +"I think it scarce possible but that in her heart she must favour one +above all others, though she may not know it yet." + +"But it seems to me--" + +"'Faith, Bert, do as you like, I sha'n't say nay, or think nay. If you +ask her, and she accepts you, I shall be sure you are the choice of +her heart. But as for me, I have often thought of the matter, and this +is what I've come to: not to speak to her of it, until by some hint or +act she shows her preference." + +"But the lady must not make the first step." + +"Not by proposal or direct word, of course--though I'll wager there +have been exceptions to that; but I've read, and believe from what +I've seen, that 'tis oftenest the lady that gives the first hint. No +doubt, she has already made sure of the gentleman's feelings, by signs +he doesn't know of. If a man didn't receive some leading on from a +woman, how would he dare tell her his mind?--for if he loves her he +must dread her refusal, or scorn, beyond all things. However that be, +I've seen, in companies, and at the play, and even in church, how +girls contrive to show their partiality to the fellows they prefer. +Why, we've both had it happen to us, when we were too young for the +fancy to last. And 'tis the same, I'll wager, when the girls are +women, and the stronger feeling has come, the kind that lasts. Be sure +a girl as clever as Margaret will find a way of showing it, if she has +set her mind on either of us. And so, I'm resolved to wait for some +sign from her before I speak." + +He went on to explain that this course would prolong, to the +unfortunate one, the possession of the pleasures of hope. It would +save him, and Margaret, from the very unpleasant incident of a +rejection. Such a refusal must always leave behind it a certain +bitterness in the memory, that will touch what friendship remains +between the two people concerned. And I know Philip's wish that, +though he might not be her choice, his old friendship with her might +continue perfectly unmarred, was what influenced him to avoid a +possible scene of refusal. + +"Then I shall do as you do," said I, "and if I see any sign, either in +my favour or yours, be sure I'll tell you." + +"I was just about to propose that," said Phil; and we resumed our +fencing. + +There was, in our plan, nothing to hinder either of us from putting +his best foot forward, as the saying is, and making himself as +agreeable to the young lady as he could. Indeed that was the quickest +way to call forth the indication how her affections stood. I don't +think Phil took any pains to appear in a better light than usual. It +was his habit to be always himself, sincere, gentle, considerate, and +never thrusting forward. He had acquired with his growth a playful +humour with which to trim his conversation, but which never went to +tiresome lengths. This was all the more taking for his quiet manner, +which held one where noise and effort failed. But I exerted myself to +be mighty gallant, and to show my admiration and wit in every +opportune way. + +I considered that Phil and I were evenly matched in the rivalry; for +when a young fellow loves a girl, be she ever so divine, and though he +feel in his heart that she is too good for him, yet he will believe it +is in him to win her grace. If he think his self-known attractions +will not suffice, he will trust to some possible hidden merits, +unperceived by himself and the world, but which will manifest +themselves to her sight in a magical manner vouchsafed to lovers. Or +at worst, if he admit himself to be mean and unlikely, he will put +reliance upon woman's caprice, which, as we all know, often makes +strange selections. As for me, I took myself to be quite a conquering +fellow. + +In looks, 'twas my opinion that Philip and I were equally gifted. Phil +was of a graceful, slender figure; within an inch of six feet, I +should say; with a longish face, narrowing from the forehead downward, +very distinctly outlined, the nose a little curved, the mouth still as +delicate as a boy's. Indeed he always retained something boyish in his +look, for all his studiousness and thoughtfulness, and all that came +later. He was not as pale as in boyhood, the sea breezes that swept in +from the bay, past the wharves, having given him some ruddiness. His +eyes, I have said, were blue, almost of a colour with Margaret's. I +was an inch or two shorter than Phil, my build was more heavy and +full, my face more of an equal width, my nose a little upturned so as +to give me an impudent look, my eyes a darkish brown. + +That I was not Phil's match in sense, learning, talents, self-command, +and modesty, did not occur to me as lessening my chances with a woman. +If I lacked real wit, I had pertness; and I thought I had a manner of +dashing boldness, that must do one-half the business with any girl, +while my converse trick of softening my voice and eyes to her on +occasion, would do the other half. + +But Margaret took her time before giving a hint of her heart's +condition. She was the same old comrade to us, she confided to us her +adverse opinions of other people, laughed with us, and often at us +(when it was like as not that she herself had made us ridiculous), +told us her little secrets, let us share her gaiety and her dejection +alike, teased us, soothed us, made us serve her, and played the +spoiled beauty with us to the full of the part. And a beauty she was, +indeed; ten times more than in her childhood. The bud was approaching +its full bloom. She was of the average tallness; slender at neck, +waist, wrist, and ankle, but filling out well in the figure, which had +such curves as I swear I never saw elsewhere upon earth. She had the +smallest foot, with the highest instep; such as one gets not often an +idea of in England. Her little head, with its ripples of chestnut +hair, sat like that of a princess; and her face, oval in shape, proud +and soft by turns in expression--I have no way of conveying the +impression it gave one, but to say that it made me think of a nosegay +of fresh, flawless roses, white and red. Often, by candle-light, +especially if she were dressed for a ball, or sat at the play, I would +liken her to some animate gem, without the hardness that belongs to +real precious stones; for indeed she shone like a jewel, thanks to the +lustre of her eyes in artificial light. Whether from humidity or some +quality of their substance, I do not know, but they reflected the rays +as I have rarely seen eyes do; and in their luminosity her whole face +seemed to have part, so that her presence had an effect of warm +brilliancy that lured and dazzled you. To see her emerge from the +darkness of the Faringfield coach, or from her sedan-chair, into the +bright light of open doorways and of lanterns held by servants, was to +hold your breath and stand with lips parted in admiration, until she +made you feel your nothingness by a haughty indifference in passing, +or sent you glowing to the seventh heaven by a radiant smile. + +While we were waiting for the heart of our paragon to reveal itself, +life in Queen Street was diversified, in the Fall of 1773, by an +unexpected visit. + +Mr. Faringfield and Philip, as they entered the dining-room one +evening after their return from the warehouse, observed that an +additional place had been made at the table. Without speaking, the +merchant looked inquiringly, and with a little of apprehension, at his +lady. + +"Ned has come back," she answered, trying to speak as if this were +quite cheerful news. + +Mr. Faringfield's face darkened. Then, with some sarcasm, he said: + +"He did not go out of his way to stop at the warehouse in coming from +the landing." + +"Why, no doubt the ship did not anchor near our wharf. He came by the +_Sophy_ brig. He took some tea, and changed his clothes, and went out +to meet a fellow passenger at the coffee-house. They had some business +together." + +"Business with a pack of cards, I make no doubt; or else with rum or +madeira." + +'Twas the second of these conjectures that turned out right. For Mr. +Edward did not come home in time to occupy at supper the place that +had been set for him. When he did appear, he said he had already +eaten. Perhaps it was to strengthen his courage for meeting his +father, that he had imbibed to the stage wherein he vilely smelt of +spirits and his eyes and face were flushed. He was certainly bold +enough when he received his father's cold greeting in the parlour, +about nine o'clock at night. + +"And, pray, what circumstance gives us the honour of this visit?" +asked Mr. Faringfield, not dissembling his disgust. + +"Why," says Mr. Ned, quite undaunted, and dropping his burly form into +an armchair with an air of being perfectly at home, "to tell the +truth, 'tis a hole, the place you sent me to; a very hell-hole." + +"By what arrangement with Mr. Culverson did you leave it?" Mr. +Culverson was the Barbadoes merchant by whom Edward had been employed. + +"Culverson!" echoed Ned, with a grin. "I doubt there was little love +lost between me and Culverson! 'Culverson,' says I, 'the place is a +hole, and the next vessel bound for New York, I go on her.' 'And a +damned good riddance!' says Culverson (begging your pardon! I'm only +quoting what the man said), and that was the only arrangement I +remember of." + +"And so that you are here, what now?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, +looking as if he appreciated Mr. Culverson's sentiments. + +"Why, sir, as for that, I think 'tis for you to say." + +"Indeed, sir?" + +"Yes, sir, seeing that I'm your son, whom you're bound to provide +for." + +"You are twenty-two, I think," says Mr. Faringfield. + +"I take it, a few paltry years more or less don't alter my rights, or +the responsibilities of a parent. Don't think, sir, I shall stand up +and quietly see myself robbed of my birthright. I'm no longer the man +to play the Esek, or Esock, or whatever--" + +"Esau," prompted Fanny, in a whisper. + +"And my mouth isn't to be stopped by any mess of porridge." + +"Pottage," corrected Fanny. + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Faringfield, rising, and holding himself very +stiffly, "I'll think upon it." Whereupon he went into the library, and +closed the door after him. + +'Tis certain that he had both the strength and the inclination to +chastise his son for these insulting rum-incited speeches, and to cast +him out to shift for his own future; instead of enduring heedlessly +the former, and offering to consider the latter. His strength was +equal to his pride, and he was no colder without than he was +passionate within. But there was one thing his strength of mind fell +short of facing, and that was the disgrace to the family, which the +eldest son might bring were he turned looser, unprovided for, in New +York. 'Twas the fear of such disgrace that always led Mr. Faringfield +to send Ned far away; and made him avoid any scene of violence which +the youth, now that he was a man and grown bold, might precipitate in +discussions such as the father had but now cut short. + +"Now I call that frigid," complained Edward to his mother, staring at +the door behind which Mr. Faringfield had disappeared. "Here was I, in +for a pleasant confab with my father, concerning my future; and before +I can put in a word, out he flings, and there's an end of it. 'Tisn't +fatherly, I protest! Well, well, I might have known! He was always +stony-hearted; never would discuss matters. That's the gratitude I get +for putting the case to him in a reasonable, docile, filial fashion. +However, he said he'd think upon it. That means I shall stay here, and +take a holiday, till he makes up his mind where to ship me to next. +'Twon't be England, I fancy, mother. I wouldn't object to France, +egad! I could learn to eat frogs as soon as another man, if it came to +that. Well, I need a holiday, after working so hard in that cursed +devil's paradise I've just come from. I suppose I can depend on you +for a little pocket-money, ma'am, till dad comes to a conclusion?" + +During the next fortnight, as he passed most of his time in the +taverns and the coffee-house, save when he attended horse-races on +Long Island, or chased foxes upon Tom's horse, or lent the honour of +his presence to cock-fights; Mr. Edward found his mother's resources +inadequate to his demands, and so levied tribute not only upon Fanny +and Tom but also upon Mr. Cornelius, who still abode in the +Faringfield house, and upon Philip Winwood. To Phil his manner was +more than civil; 'twas most conciliating and flattering, in a +pleasantly jocular way. + +Ere Mr. Faringfield had announced his mind, the visitor had worn out +his welcome in most of his tavern haunts, and become correspondingly +tired of New York. One evening, as Philip was leaving the warehouse, a +negro boy handed him a note, in which Mr. Ned begged him to come +immediately, on a matter of importance, to the King's Arms tavern. +There he found Edward seated at a small table in a corner of the +tap-room. Ned would have it that Phil should send home his excuses, by +the negro, and sup at the tavern; which, for the sake of peace, though +unwillingly, Philip finally consented to do. + +Edward was drinking rum, in a kind of hot punch of his own mixing. +Phil, though fond of madeira at home, now contented himself with ale; +and the two were soon at work upon a fried chicken prepared in the +Maryland fashion. + +"You know, Phil," says Ned at last, having talked in a lively strain +upon a multitude of matters, none of which Philip perceived to be +important, "'fore gad, I always liked you! Tis so, as the Lord's my +judge. Nay, you think I took a damned odd way of showing it. But we're +not all alike. Now look you! Hearken unto me, as the parson says. I +can say a good word for you in a certain ear." + +"Whose?" queried Phil, wondering in what ear he needed a good word +said. + +"Whose, eh? Now whose would it be? Come, come, I'll speak to the +point. I'm no man for palaver. 'Tis an ear you've whispered more than +one sweet thing into, I'll warrant. You're young, Philip, young: you +think you can fall in love and nobody find it out. Why, I hadn't been +landed two hours, and asked the news, when I was told that you and +Bert Russell were over ears in love with my sister." + +Phil merely looked his astonishment. + +"Now, sir, you mayn't think it," says Mr. Ned, "but my word has some +weight with Fanny." + +"Fanny?" echoed Philip. "What has she to do with it?" + +"Why, everything, I fancy. The lady usually has--" + +"But Fanny isn't the lady." + +"What? Then who the devil is?" + +"I don't think 'tis a matter need be talked of now," said Phil. + +"But I'd like to know--'gad, it can't be the other sister! Madge--that +spitfire! Well, well! Your face speaks, if your tongue won't. Who'd +have thought any man would go soft over such a vixen? Well, I can't +help you there, my lad!" + +"I haven't asked your help," says Phil with a smile. + +"Now, it's a pity," says Ned, dolefully, "for I thought by doing you a +good turn I might get you to do me another." + +"Oh, I see! Why, then, as for my doing you a good turn if it's +possible, speak out. What is it?" + +"Now, I call that noble of you, Phil; damned noble! I do need a good +turn, and that's a fact. You see I didn't tell my father exactly the +truth as to my leaving the Barbadoes. Not that I don't scorn a lie, +but I was considerate of the old gentleman's feelings. I couldn't +endure to shock him in his tenderest place. You understand?" + +"I probably shall when you've finished." + +"Why, I dare say you know what the old man's tenderest place is. Well, +if you won't answer, 'tis his pride in the family name, the spotless +name of Faringfield! Oh, I've worked upon that more than once, I tell +you. The old gentleman will do much to keep the name without a +blemish; I could always bring him to terms by threatening to disgrace +it--" + +"What a rascal you've been, then!" + +"Why, maybe so; we're not all saints. But I've always kept my word +with father, and whenever he gave me the money I wanted, or set me up +in life again, I kept the name clean--comparatively clean, that is to +say, as far as any one in New York might know. And even this time--at +the Barbadoes--'twasn't with any purpose of punishing father, I vow; +'twas for my necessities, I made myself free with a thousand pounds of +Culverson's." + +"The devil! Do you mean you embezzled a thousand pounds?" + +"One cool, clean thousand! My necessities, I tell you. There was a +debt of honour, you must know; a damned unlucky run at the cards, and +the navy officer that won came with a brace of pistols and gave me two +days in which to pay. And then there was a lady--with a brat, confound +her!--to be sent to England, and looked after. You see, 'twas honour +moved me in the first case, and chivalry in the second. As a +gentleman, I couldn't withstand the promptings of noble sentiments +like those." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Why, then I came away. And I hadn't the heart to break the truth to +father, knowing how 'twould cut him up. I thought of the old +gentleman's family pride, his gray hairs--his hair _is_ gray by this +time, isn't it?--" + +"And what is it you wish me to do?" + +"Why, you see, Culverson hadn't yet found out how things were, when I +left. I pretended I was ill--and so I was, in a way. But he must have +found out by this time, and when he sends after me, by the next +vessel, I'm afraid poor father will have to undergo a severe +trial--you know his weakness for the honoured name of Faringfield." + +"By the Lord, Ned, this is worse than I should ever have thought of +you." + +"It _is_ a bit bad, isn't it? And I've been thinking what's to be +done--for father's sake, you know. If 'twere broken to him gently, at +once, as nobody but you can break it, why then, he might give me the +money to repay Culverson, and send me back to Barbadoes by the next +ship, and nothing need ever come out. I'm thoroughly penitent, so help +me, heaven, and quite willing to go back." + +"And incur other debts of honour, and obligations of chivalry," says +Phil. + +"I'll see the cards in hell first, and the women too, by gad!" whereat +Mr. Edward brought his fist down upon the table most convincingly. + +He thought it best to spend that night at the tavern; whither Phil +went in the morning with news of Mr. Faringfield's reception of the +disclosure. The merchant had listened with a countenance as cold as a +statue's, but had promptly determined to make good the thousand pounds +to Mr. Culverson, and that Ned should return to the Barbadoes without +the formality of bidding the family farewell. But the money was to be +entrusted not to Mr. Edward, but to Mr. Faringfield's old clerk, +Palmer, who was to be the young man's travelling companion on the +Southward voyage. At word of this last arrangement, Edward showed +himself a little put out, which he told Phil was on account of his +father's apparent lack of confidence. But he meditated awhile, and +took on a more cheerful face. + +It happened--and, as it afterward came out, his previous knowledge of +this had suggested the trick he played upon Phil and Mr. +Faringfield--that, the same day on which the next Barbadoes-bound +vessel sailed, a brig left port for England. Both vessels availed +themselves of the same tide and wind, and so went down the bay +together. + +On the Barbadoes vessel, Ned and Mr. Palmer were to share the same +cabin; and thither, ere the ship was well out of the East River, the +old clerk accompanied Ned for the purpose of imbibing a beverage which +the young gentleman protested was an unfailing preventive of +sea-sickness, if taken in time. Once in the cabin, and the door being +closed, Mr. Ned adroitly knocked Palmer down with a blow from behind; +gagged, bound, and robbed him of the money, and left him to his +devices. Returning to the deck, he induced the captain to put him, by +boat, aboard the brig bound for England, which was still close at +hand. Taking different courses, upon leaving the lower bay, the two +vessels were soon out of hail, and that before the discovery of the +much puzzled Palmer's condition in his cabin. + +The poor old man had to go to the Barbadoes, and come back again, +before a word of this event reached the ears of Mr. Faringfield. When +Palmer returned with his account of it, he brought word from Mr. +Culverson that, although Ned had indeed settled a gambling debt at the +pistol's point, and had indeed paid the passage of a woman and child +to England, his theft had been of less than a hundred pounds. Thus it +was made manifest that Ned had lied to Philip in order to play upon +his father's solicitude concerning the name of Faringfield for +integrity, and so get into his hands the means of embarking upon the +pleasures of the Old World. Very foolish did poor Philip look when he +learned how he had been duped. But Mr. Faringfield, I imagine, +consoled himself with the probability that New York had seen the last +of Mr. Edward. + +I think 'twas to let Mr. Faringfield recover first from the feelings +of this occasion, that Philip postponed so long the announcement of +his intention to go to England. Thus far he had confided his plans to +me alone, and as a secret. But now he was past twenty-one years, and +his resolution could not much longer be deferred. Nevertheless, not +until the next June--that of 1774--did he screw up his courage to the +point of action. + +"I shall tell him to-day," said Philip to me one Monday morning, as I +walked with him part of the way to the warehouses. "Pray heaven he +takes it not too ill." + +I did not see Phil at dinner-time; but in the afternoon, a little +before his usual home-coming hour, he came seeking me, with a very +relieved and happy face; and found me trimming a grape-vine in our +back garden, near the palings that separated our ground from Mr. +Faringfield's. On the Faringfield side of the fence, at this place, +grew bushes of snowball and rose. + +"How did he take it?" I asked, smiling to see Phil's eyes so bright. + +"Oh, very well. He made no objection; said he had not the right to +make any in my case. But he looked so upset for a moment, so +deserted--I suppose he was thinking how his own son had failed him, +and that now his beneficiary was turning from him--that I wavered. But +at that he was the same haughty, immovable man as ever, and I +remembered that each of us must live his own life; and so 'tis +settled." + +"Well," said I, with a little of envy at his prospect, and much of +sorrow at losing him, and some wonder about another matter, "I'm glad +for your sake, though you may imagine how I'll miss you. But how can +you go yet? 'Tis like leaving the field to me--as to _her_, you know." +I motioned with my head toward the Faringfield house. + +"Why," he replied, as we both sat down on the wooden bench, "as I +shall be gone years when I do go, Mr. Faringfield stipulated only that +I should remain with him here another year; and I was mighty glad he +did, or I should have had to make that offer. 'Twasn't that I was +anxious to be off so soon, that made me tell him I was going; 'twas +that in harbouring the intention, while he still relied upon my +remaining always with him, I seemed to be guilty of a kind of +treachery. As for--_her_, if she gives no indication within a year, +especially when she knows I'm going, why, 'twill be high time to leave +the field to you, I think." + +"She doesn't know yet?" + +"No; I came first to you. Her father isn't home yet." + +"Well, Phil, there's little for me to say. You know what my feelings +are. After all, we are to have you for a year, and then--well, I hope +you may become the greatest architect that ever lived!" + +"Why, now, 'tis strange; you remind me of my reason for going. Since +Mr. Faringfield gave me his sanction, I hadn't thought of that. I'm +afraid I've been something of a hypocrite. And yet I certainly thought +my desire to go was chiefly on account of my architectural studies; +and I certainly intend to pursue them, too. I must have deceived +myself a little, though, by dwelling on that reason as one that would +prevail with Mr. Faringfield; one that he could understand, and could +not fairly oppose. For, hearkee, all the way home, when I looked +forward to the future, the architectural part of it was not in my +head. I was thinking of the famous historic places I should see; the +places where great men have lived; the birthplace and grave of +Shakespeare; the palaces where great pageants and tragedies have been +enacted; the scenes of great battles; the abbey where so many poets +and kings and queens are buried; the Tower where such memorable dramas +have occurred; the castles that have stood since the days of chivalry; +and Oxford; and the green fields of England that poets have written +of, and the churchyard of Gray's Elegy; and all that kind of thing." + +[Illustration: "OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE SO +IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED."] + +"Ay, and something of the gay life of the present, I'll warrant," said +I, with a smile; "the playhouses, and the taverns, and the parks, and +Vauxhall, and the assembly-rooms; and all _that_ kind of thing." + +"Why, yes, 'tis true. And I wish you were to go with me." + +"Alas, I'm tied down here. Some day, perhaps--" + +"What are you two talking of?" The interruption came in a soft, clear, +musical voice, of which the instant effect was to make us both start +up, and turn toward the fence, with hastened hearts and smiling faces. + +Margaret stood erect, looking over the palings at us, backed by the +green and flowered bushes through which she and Fanny had moved +noiselessly toward the fence in quest of nosegays for the +supper-table. Fanny stood at her side, and both smiled, Margaret +archly, Fanny pleasantly. The two seemed of one race with the flowers +about them, though Margaret's radiant beauty far outshone the more +modest charms of her brown-eyed younger sister. The elder placed her +gathered flowers on the upper rail of the fence, and taking two roses, +one in each hand, held them out toward us. + +We grasped each his rose at the same time, and our motions, as we +touched our lips with them, were so in unison that Margaret laughed. + +"And what _were_ you talking of?" says she. + +"Is it a secret any longer?" I asked Philip. + +"No." + +"Then we were talking of Phil's going to England, to be a great +architect." + +"Going to England!" She looked as if she could not have rightly +understood. + +"Yes," said I, "in a year from now, to stay, the Lord knows how long." + +She turned white, then red; and had the strangest look. + +"Is it true?" she asked, after a moment, turning to Phil. + +"Yes. I am to go next June." + +"But father--does he know?" + +"I told him this afternoon. He is willing." + +"To be sure, to be sure," she said, thoughtfully. "He has no authority +over you. 'Tis different with us. Oh, Phil, if you could only take me +with you!" There was wistful longing and petulant complaint in the +speech. And then, as Phil answered, an idea seemed to come to her all +at once; and she to rise to it by its possibility, rather than to fall +back from its audacity. + +"I would gladly," said he; "but your father would never consent that a +Faringfield--" + +"Well, one need not always be a Faringfield," she replied, looking him +straight in the face, with a kind of challenge in her voice and eyes. + +"Why--perhaps not," said Phil, for the mere sake of agreeing, and +utterly at a loss as to her meaning. + +"You don't understand," says she. "A father's authority over his +daughter ceases one day." + +"Ay, no doubt," says Phil; "when she becomes of legal age. But even +then, without her father's consent--" + +"Why, now," she interrupted, "suppose her father's authority over her +passed to somebody else; somebody of her father's own preference; +somebody that her father already knew was going to England: could her +father forbid his taking her?" + +"But, 'tis impossible," replied mystified Phil. "To whom in the world +would your father pass his authority over you? He is hale and hearty; +there's not the least occasion for a guardian." + +"Why, fathers _do_, you know." + +"Upon my soul, I don't see--" + +"I vow you don't! You are the blindest fellow! Didn't Polly +Livingstone's father give up his authority over her the other day--to +Mr. Ludlow?" + +"Certainly, to her husband." + +"Well!" + +"Margaret--do you mean--? But you can't mean _that_?" Phil had not the +voice to say more, emerging so suddenly from the clouds of puzzlement +to the yet uncertain sunshine of joy. + +"Why shouldn't I mean that?" says she, with the prettiest laugh, which +made her bold behaviour seem the most natural, feminine act +imaginable. "Am I not good enough for you?" + +"Madge! You're not joking, are you?" He caught her hands, and gazed +with still dubious rapture at her across the fence. + +My sensations may easily be imagined. But by the time she had assured +him she was perfectly in earnest, I had taught myself to act the man; +and so I said, playfully: + +"Such a contract, though 'tis made before witnesses, surely ought to +be sealed." + +Philip took my hint; and he and Margaret laughed, and stretched arms +across the paling tops; and I lost sight of their faces. I sought +refuge in turning to Fanny, who was nearer to me than they were. To my +surprise, she was watching me with the most kindly, pitying face in +the world. Who would have thought she had known my heart regarding her +sister? + +"Poor Bert!" she murmured gently, scarce for my hearing. + +And I, who had felt very solitary the moment before, now seemed not +quite so lonely; and I continued to look into the soft, compassionate +eyes of Fanny, so steadily that in a moment, with the sweetest of +blushes, she lowered them to the roses in her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_We Hear Startling News, Which Brings about a Family "Scene"._ + + +I have characterised Margaret's behaviour in the matter of this +marriage proposal as forward; though I have admitted that it scarce +looked so, so graceful and womanlike was her manner of carrying it +off, which had in it nothing worse than the privileged air of a +spoiled beauty. Now that writing of it has set me thinking of it, I +see that 'twas a more natural act than it appears in the cold recital. +For years she had been our queen, and Phil and I her humble subjects, +and the making of the overtures appeared as proper in her, as it would +have seemed presumption in either of us. And over Phil, from that +bygone day when she had gone across the street to his rescue, she had +assumed an air of authority, nay of proprietorship, that bade him wait +upon her will ere ever he acted or spoke. And, again, though out of +consideration for his rival he had been purposely silent while +awaiting a sign from her, she had read his heart from the first. His +every look and tone for years had been an unconscious act of wooing, +and so when she brought matters to a point as she did, 'twas on her +part not so much an overture as a consent. As for marriage proposal in +general, all men with whom I have discussed it have confessed their +own scenes thereof to have been, in the mere words, quite simple and +unpoetical, whether enacted in confusion or in confidence; and to have +been such as would not read at all finely in books. + +The less easy ordeal awaited Philip, of asking her father. But he was +glad this stood yet in his way, and that 'twas not easy; for 'twould +make upon his courage that demand which every man's courage ought to +undergo in such an affair, and which Margaret's conduct had precluded +in his coming to an understanding with her. + +But however disquieting the task was to approach, it could be only +successful at the end; for indeed Mr. Faringfield, with all his +external frigidity, could refuse Phil nothing. In giving his consent, +which perhaps he had been ready to do long before Phil had been ready +to ask it, he made no allusion to Phil's going to England. He +purposely ignored the circumstance, I fancy, that in consenting to the +marriage, he knowingly opened the way for his daughter's visiting that +hated country. Doubtless the late conduct of Ned, and the intended +defection of Philip, amicable though that defection was, had shaken +him in his resolution of imposing his avoidance of England upon his +family. He resigned himself to the inevitable; but he grew more +taciturn, sank deeper into himself, became more icy in his manner, +than ever. + +Philip and Margaret were married in February, four months before the +time set for their departure. The wedding was solemnised in Trinity +Church, by the Rev. Mr. Barclay, on one of those white days with a +little snow in the air, which I for one prefer over sunny days, in +winter, as far more seasonable. The young gentlemen of the town +wondered that Miss Faringfield had not made a better match (as she +might have done, of course, in each one's secret opinion by choosing +himself). The young ladies, though some of them may have regretted the +subtraction of one eligible youth from their matrimonial chances, were +all of them rejoiced at the removal of a rival who had hitherto kept +the eyes of a score of youths, even more eligible, turned away from +them. And so they wished her well, with smiles the most genuine. She +valued not a finger-snap their thoughts or their congratulations. She +had, of late, imperceptibly moved aloof from them. Nor had she sought +the attentions of the young gentlemen. 'Twas not of her will that they +dangled. In truth she no longer had eyes or ears for the small +fashionable world of New York. She had a vastly greater world to +conquer, and disdained to trouble herself, by a smile or a glance, for +the admiration of the poor little world around her. + +All her thoughts in her first months of marriage--and these were very +pleasant months to Philip, so charming and sweet-tempered was his +bride--were of the anticipated residence in England. It was still +settled that Philip was to go in June; and her going with him was now +daily a subject of talk in the family. Mr. Faringfield himself +occasionally mentioned it; indifferently, as if 'twere a thing to +which he never would have objected. Margaret used sometimes to smile, +thinking how her father had put it out of his power to oppose her +wishes: first by his friendly sanction to Phil's going, to refuse +which he had not the right; and then by his consent to her marriage, +to refuse which he had not the will. + +Naturally Philip took pleasure in her anticipations, supposing that, +as to their source and object, they differed not from his. As the pair +were so soon to go abroad, 'twas thought unnecessary to set up in a +house of their own in New York, and so they made their home for the +time in the Faringfield mansion, the two large chambers over the great +parlour being allotted to them; while they continued to share the +family table, save that Margaret now had her morning chocolate abed. + +"I must initiate myself into London ways, dear," she said, gaily, when +Fanny remarked how strange this new habit was in a girl who had never +been indolent or given to late rising. + +"How pretty the blue brocaded satin is!" quoth Fanny, looking at one +of Margaret's new gowns hanging in a closet. "Why didn't you wear it +at the Watts' dinner yesterday? And your brown velvet--you've not had +it on since it came from the dressmaker's." + +"I shall wear them in London," says Margaret. + +And so it was with her in everything. She saved her finest clothes, +her smiles, her very interest in life, her capacity for enjoyment, all +for London. And Philip, perceiving her indifference to the outside +world, her new equability of temper, her uniform softness of +demeanour, her constant meditative half-smile due to pleasurable +dreams of the future, read all these as tokens of blissful content +like that which glowed in his own heart. And he was supremely happy. +'Tis well for a man to have two months of such happiness, to balance +against later years of sorrow; but sad will that happiness be in the +memory, if it owe itself to the person to whom the sorrow in its train +is due. + +She would watch for him at the window, in the afternoon, when he came +home from the warehouse; and would be waiting at the parlour door as +he entered the hall. With his arm about her, he would lead her to a +sofa, and they would sit talking for a few minutes before he prepared +for supper--for 'twas only on great occasions that the Faringfields +dined at five o'clock, as did certain wealthy New York families who +followed the London mode. + +"I am so perfectly, entirely, completely, utterly happy!" was the +burden of Phil's low-spoken words. + +"Fie!" said Margaret, playfully, one evening. "You must not be +perfectly happy. There must be some cloud in the sky; some annoyance +in business, or such trifle. Perfect happiness is dangerous, mamma +says. It can't last. It forbodes calamity to come. 'Tis an old belief, +and she vows 'tis true." + +"Why, my poor mother held that belief, too. I fear she had little +perfect happiness to test it by; but she had calamities enough. And +Bert Russell's mother was saying the same thing the other day. 'Tis a +delusion common to mothers, I think. I sha'n't let it affect my +felicity. I should be ungrateful to call my contentment less than +perfect. And if calamity comes, 'twill not be owing to my happiness." + +"As for that, I can't imagine any calamity possible to us--unless +something should occur to hinder us from going to London. But nothing +in the world shall do that, of course." + +'Twas upon this conversation that Tom and I broke in, having met as I +returned from the custom-house, he from the college. + +"Oho!" cried Tom, with teasing mirth, "still love-making! I tell you +what it is, brother Phil, 'tis time you two had eyes for something +else besides each other. The town is talking of how engrossed Margaret +is in you, that she ignores the existence of everybody else." + +"Let 'em talk," said Margaret, lightly, with an indifference free from +malice. "Who cares about their existence? They're not so interesting, +with their dull teas and stupid gossip of one another! A set of +tedious rustics." + +"Hear the countess talk!" Tom rattled on, at the same time looking +affectionate admiration out of his mirthful eyes. "What a high and +mighty lady is yours, my lord Philip! I should like to know what the +Morrises, and Lind Murray, and the Philipse boys and girls, and our De +Lancey cousins, and the rest, would think to hear themselves called a +set of rustics." + +"Why," says Phil, "beside her ladyship here, are they _not_ a set of +rustics?" With which he kissed her, and rose to go to his room. + +"_Merci_, monsieur!" said Margaret, rising and dropping him a curtsey, +with the prettiest of glances, as he left the parlour. + +She hummed a little French air, and went and ran her fingers up and +down the keys of the pianoforte, which great new instrument had +supplanted the old harpsichord in the house. Tom and I, standing at +the fireplace, watched her face as the candle-light fell upon it. + +"Well," quoth Tom, "Phil is no prouder of his wife than I am of my +sister. Don't you think she grows handsomer every day, Bert?" + +"'Tis the effect of happiness," said I, and then I looked into the +fireplace rather than at her. For I was then, and had been for long +months, engaged in the struggle of detaching my thoughts from her +charms, or, better, of accustoming myself to look upon them with +composure; and I had made such good success that I wished not to set +myself back in it. Eventually my success was complete, and I came to +feel toward her no more than the friendship of a lifelong comrade. If +a man be honest, and put forth his will, he can quench his love for +the woman that is lost to him, unless there have existed long the +closest, tenderest, purest ties between them; and even then, except +that 'twill revive again sometimes at the touch of an old memory. + +"You dear boys!" says Margaret, coming over to us, to reward Tom with +a kiss on the cheek, and me with a smile. "What a vain thing you will +make me of my looks!" + +"Nay," says candid Tom, "that work was done before ever we had the +chance of a hand in it." + +"Well," retorted Margaret, with good-humoured pertness, "there'll +never be reason for me to make my brother vain of his wit." + +"Nor for my sister to be vain of hers," said Tom, not in nettled +retaliation, but merely as uttering a truth. + +"You compliment me there," says Margaret, lightly. "Did you ever hear +of a witty woman that was charming?" + +"That is true," I put in, remembering some talk of Phil's, based upon +reading as well as upon observation, "for usually a woman must be +ugly, before she will take the trouble to cultivate wit. The +possession of wit in a woman seems to imply a lack of other reliances. +And if a woman be pretty and witty both, her arrogance is like to be +such as drives every man away. And men resent wit in a woman as if +'twere an invasion of their own province." + +"Sure your explanation must be true, Mr. Philosopher," said Margaret, +"'tis so profound. As for me, I seek no reasons; 'tis enough to know +that most witty women are frights; and I don't blame the men for +refusing to be charmed by 'em." + +"Well, sis," said Tom, "I'm sure even the cultivation of wit wouldn't +make you a fright. So you might amuse yourself by trying it, ma'am. As +for charming the men, you married ladies have no more to do with +that." + +"Oh, haven't we? Sure, I think 'tis time little boys were in bed, who +talk of things they know nothing about. Isn't that so, Bert?" + +"Why," said I, "for my part, I think 'tis unkind for a woman to +exercise her charms upon men after she has destroyed the possibility +of rewarding their devotion." + +"Dear me, you talk like a character in a novel. Well, then, you're +both agreed I mustn't be charming. So I'll be disagreeable, and begin +with you two. Here's a book of sermons Mr. Cornelius must have left. +That will help me, if anything will." And she sat down with the volume +in her hands, took on a solemn frown, and began to read to herself. +After awhile, at a giggle of amusement from schoolboy Tom, she turned +a rebuking gaze upon us, over the top of the book; but the very effort +to be severe emphasised the fact that her countenance was formed to +give only pleasure, and our looks brought back the smile to her eyes. + +"'Tis no use," said Tom, "you couldn't help being charming if you +tried." + +She threw down the book, and came and put her arm around him, and so +we all three stood before the fire till Philip returned. + +"Ah," she said, "here is one who will never ask me to be ugly or +unpleasant." + +"Who has been asking impossibilities, my dear?" inquired Philip, +taking her offered hand in his. + +"These wise gentlemen think I oughtn't to be charming, now that I'm +married." + +"Then they think you oughtn't to be yourself; and I disagree with 'em +entirely." + +She gave him her other hand also, and stood for a short while looking +into his innocent, fond eyes. + +"You dear old Phil!" she said slowly, in a low voice, falling for the +moment into a tender gravity, and her eyes having a more than wonted +softness. The next instant, recovering her light playfulness with a +little laugh, she took his arm and led the way to the dining-room. + +And now came Spring--the Spring of 1775. There had been, of course, +for years past, and increasing daily in recent months, talk of the +disagreement between the king and the colonies. I have purposely +deferred mention of this subject, to the time when it was to fall upon +us in its full force so that no one could ignore it or avoid action +with regard to it. But I now reach the beginning of the drama which is +the matter of this history, and to which all I have written is +uneventful prologue. We young people of the Faringfield house (for I +was still as much of that house as of my own) had concerned ourselves +little with the news from London and Boston, of the concentration of +British troops in the latter town in consequence of the increased +disaffection upon the closing of its port. We heeded little the fact +that the colonies meant to convene another general congress at +Philadelphia, or that certain colonial assemblies had done thus and +so, and certain local committees decided upon this or that. 'Twould +all blow over, of course, as the Stamp Act trouble had done; the +seditious class in Boston would soon be overawed, and the king would +then concede, of his gracious will, what the malcontents had failed to +obtain by their violent demands. Such a thing as actual rebellion, +real war, was to us simply inconceivable. I believe now that Philip +had earlier and deeper thoughts on the subject than I had: indeed +events showed that he must have had: but he kept them to himself. And +far other and lighter subjects occupied our minds as he and I started +for a walk out the Bowery lane one balmy Sunday morning in April, the +twenty-third day of the month. + +Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield, Fanny, and Tom, had gone to church. Philip +and I boasted of too much philosophical reading to be churchgoers, and +I had let my mother walk off to Trinity with a neighbour. As for +Margaret, she stayed home because she was now her own mistress and had +a novel to read, out of the last parcel received from London. We left +her on the rear veranda, amidst the honeysuckle vines that climbed the +trellis-work. + +"I've been counting the weeks," she said to Phil, as we were about to +set forth. "Only seven more Sundays." And she stopped him to adjust +the ribbon of his queue more to her taste. "Aren't you glad?" + +"Yes; and a thousand times so because it makes you happy, my dear," +said he. + +She kissed him, and let him go. "Don't walk too far, dear!" she called +after us. + +We looked back from the gateway, and saw that she had come to the end +of the veranda to see us from the garden. We doffed our hats, and Phil +threw her a kiss; which she returned, and then waved her hand after +us, softly smiling. Philip lingered a moment, smiling back, to get +this last view of her ere he closed the gate. + +We had just passed the common, at the Northern end of the town, when +we heard a clatter of galloping hoofs in the Bowery lane before us. +Looking up the vista of road shaded by trees in fresh leafage, we saw +a rider coming toward us at a very severe pace. As he approached, the +horse stumbled; and the man on its back, fearing it might sink from +exhaustion, drew up and gave it a moment in which to recover itself. +He evidently wished to make a decent entrance into the town. He was in +a great panting and perspiration, like his trembling steed, which was +covered with foam; and his clothes were disturbed and soiled with +travel. He took off his cocked felt hat to fan himself. + +"You ride fast, for Sunday, friend," said Phil pleasantly. "Any +trouble?" + +"Trouble for some folks, I guess," was the reply, spoken with a Yankee +drawl and twang. "I'm bringing news from Massachusetts." He slapped +the great pocket of his plain coat, calling attention to its +well-filled condition as with square papers. "Letters from the +Committee of Safety." + +"Why, has anything happened at Boston?" asked Phil, quickly. + +"Well, no, not just at Boston. But out Concord way, and at Lexington, +and on the road back to Boston, I should reckon a few things _had_ +happened." And then, leaving off his exasperating drawl, he very +speedily related the terrible occurrence of the nineteenth of +April--terrible because 'twas warlike bloodshed in a peaceful land, +between the king's soldiers and the king's subjects, between men of +the same race and speech, men of the same mother country; and because +of what was to follow in its train. I remember how easily and soon the +tale was told; how clearly the man's calm voice, though scarce raised +above a usual speaking tone, stood out against the Sunday morning +stillness, with no sound else but the twittering of birds in the trees +near by. + +"Get up!" said the messenger, not waiting for our thanks or comments; +and so galloped into the town, leaving us to stare after him and then +at each other. + +"'Faith, this will make the colonies stand together," said Philip at +last. + +"Ay," said I, "against the rebellious party." + +"No," quoth he, "when I say the colonies, I mean what you call the +rebellious party in them." + +"Why, 'tis not the majority, and therefore it can't be said to +represent the colonies." + +"I beg your pardon--I think we shall find it is the majority, +particularly outside of the large towns. This news will fly to every +corner of the land as fast as horses can carry it, and put the country +folk in readiness for whatever the Continental Congress may decide +upon." + +"Why, then, 'twill put our people on their guard, too, for whatever +the rebels may attempt." + +Philip's answer to this brought about some dispute as to whether the +name rebels, in its ordinary sense, could properly be applied to those +colonists who had what he termed grievances. We both showed heat, I +the more, until he, rather than quarrel, fell into silence. We had +turned back into the town; choosing a roundabout way for home, that we +might observe the effect of the messenger's news upon the citizens. In +a few streets the narrow footways were thronged with people in their +churchgoing clothes, and many of these had already gathered into +startled groups, where the rider who came in such un-Sabbath-like +haste had stopped to justify himself, and satisfy the curiosity of +observers, and ask the whereabouts of certain gentlemen of the +provincial assembly, to whom he had letters. We heard details +repeated, and opinions uttered guardedly, and grave concern everywhere +expressed. + +By the time we had reached home, Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield were already +there, discussing the news with my mother, in the presence of the two +daughters and Tom. We found them all in the parlour. Margaret stood in +the library doorway, still holding her novel in her hand, her finger +keeping the page. Her face showed but a languid interest in the +tragedy which made all the others look so grave. + +"You've heard the news, of course?" said Mr. Faringfield to us as we +entered, curiously searching Philip's face while he spoke. + +"Yes, sir; we were the first in the town to hear it, I think," replied +Phil. + +"Tis a miracle if we do not have war," said Mr. Faringfield. + +"I pray not," says my mother, who was a little less terrified than +Mrs. Faringfield. "And I won't believe we shall, till I see it at our +doors." + +"Oh, don't speak of it!" cried Mrs. Faringfield, with a shudder. + +"Why, ladies," says Philip, "'tis best to think of it as if 'twere +surely coming, and so accustom the mind to endure its horrors. I shall +teach my wife to do so." And he looked playfully over at Margaret. + +"Why, what is it to me?" said Margaret. "Tis not like to come before +we sail, and in England we shall be well out of it. Sure you don't +think the rebels will cross the ocean and attack London?" + +"Why, if war comes," said Phil, quietly, "we shall have to postpone +our sailing." + +"Postpone it!" she cried, in alarm. "Why? And how long?" + +"Until the matter is settled one way or another." + +"But it won't come before we sail. 'Tis only seven weeks. Whatever +happens, they'll riddle away that much time first, in talk and +preparation; they always do." + +"But we must wait, my dear, till the question is decided whether +there's to be war or peace. If we come round to the certainty of +peace, which is doubtful, then of course there's naught to hinder us. +But if there's war, why, we've no choice but to see it out before we +leave the country." + +I never elsewhere saw such utter, indignant consternation as came over +Margaret's face. + +"But why? For what reason?" she cried. "Will not vessels sail, as +usual? Are you afraid we shall be harmed on the sea? 'Tis ridiculous! +The rebels have no war-ships. Why need we stay? What have we to do +with these troubles? 'Tis not our business to put them down. The king +has soldiers enough." + +"Ay," said Phil, surprised at her vehemence, but speaking the more +quietly for that, "'tis the colonies will need soldiers." + +"Then what folly are you talking? Why should we stay for this war." + +"That I may take my part in it, my dear." + +"Bravo, brother Phil!" cried Tom Faringfield. "You nor I sha'n't miss +a chance to fight for the king!" + +"Nor I, either," I added. + +"'Tis not for the king, that I shall be fighting," said Phil, simply. + +A silence of astonishment fell on the company. 'Twas broken by Mr. +Faringfield: + +"Bravo, Phil, say _I_ this time." And, losing no jot of his haughty +manner, he went over, and with one hand grasping Phil's, laid the +other approvingly on the young man's shoulder. + +"What, have we rebels in our own family?" cried Mrs. Faringfield, +whose horror at the fact gave her of a sudden the needful courage. + +"Madam, do your sentiments differ from mine?" asked her husband. + +"Sir, I am a De Lancey!" she replied, with a chilling haughtiness +almost equal to his own. + +Tom, buoyed by his feelings of loyalty above the fear of his father's +displeasure, crossed to his mother, and kissed her; and even Fanny had +the spirit to show defiantly on which side she stood, by nestling to +her mother's side and caressing her head. + +"Good, mamma!" cried Margaret. "No one shall make rebels of us! +Understand that, Mr. Philip Winwood!" + +Philip, though an ashen hue about the lips showed what was passing in +his heart, tried to take the bitterness from the situation by treating +it playfully. "You see, Mr. Faringfield, if we are indeed rebels +against our king, we are paid by our wives turning rebels against +ourselves." + +"You cannot make a joke of it, sir," said Margaret, with a menacing +coldness in her tone. "'Tis little need the king has of _my_ +influence, I fancy; he has armies to fight his battles. But there's +one thing does concern me, and that is my visit to London.--But you'll +not deprive me of that, dear, will you, now that you think of it +better?" Her voice had softened as she turned to pleading. + +"We must wait, my dear, while there is uncertainty or war." + +"But you haven't the right to make me wait!" she cried, her voice +warming to mingled rage, reproach, and threat. "Why, wars last for +years--I should be an old woman! You're not free to deny me this +pleasure, or postpone it an hour! You promised it from the first, you +encouraged my anticipations until I came to live upon them, you fed my +hopes till they dropped everything else in the world. Night and day I +have looked forward to it, thought of it, dreamt of it! And now you +say I must wait--months, at least; probably years! But you can't mean +it, Phil! You wouldn't be so cruel! Tell me!" + +"I mean no cruelty, dear. But one has no choice when patriotism +dictates--when one's country--" + +"Why, you sha'n't treat me so, disappoint me so! 'Twould be breaking +your word; 'twould be a cruel betrayal, no less; 'twould make all your +conduct since our marriage--nay, since that very day we promised +marriage--a deception, a treachery, a lie; winning a woman's hand and +keeping her love, upon a false pretence! You _dare_ not turn back on +your word now! If you are a man of honour, of truth, of common +honesty, you will let this miserable war go hang, and take me to +England, as you promised! And if you don't I'll hate you!--hate you!" + +Her speech had come out in a torrent of increasing force, until her +voice was almost a scream, and this violence had its climax in a +hysterical outburst of weeping, as she sank upon a chair and hid her +face upon the back thereof. In this attitude she remained, her body +shaking with sobs. + +Philip, moved as a man rarely is, hastened to her, and leaning over, +essayed to take her hand. + +"But you should understand, dear," said he, most tenderly, with what +voice he could command. "God knows I would do anything to make you +happy, but--" + +"Then," she said tearfully, resigning her hand to his, "don't bring +this disappointment upon me. Let them make war, if they please; you +have your wife to consider, and your own future. Whatever they fight +about, 'tis nothing to you, compared with your duty to me." + +"But you don't understand," was all he could reply. "If I could +explain--" + +"Oh, Phil, dear," she said, adopting again a tender, supplicating +tone. "You'll not rob me of what I've so joyously looked forward to, +will you? Think, how I've set my heart on it! Why, we've looked +forward to it together, haven't we? All our happiness has been bound +up with our anticipations. Don't speak of understanding or +explaining,--only remember that our first thought should be of each +other's happiness, dear, and that you will ruin mine if you don't take +me. For my sake, for my love, promise we shall go to England in June! +I beg you--'tis the one favour--I will love you so! Do, Phil! We shall +be so happy!" + +She looked up at him with such an eager pleading through her tears +that I did not wonder to see his own eyes moisten. + +"My dear," said he, with an unsteady voice, "I can't. I shouldn't be a +man if I left the country at this time. I should loathe myself; I +should not be worthy of you." + +She flung his hand away from her, and rose in another seizure of +wrath. + +"Worthy!" she cried. "What man is worthy of a woman, when he cheats +her as you have cheated me! You are a fool, with your talk of loathing +yourself if you left the country! In God's name, what could there be +in that to make you loathe yourself? What claim has the country on +you, equal to the claim your wife has? Better loathe yourself for your +false treatment of her! You'd loathe yourself, indeed! Well, then, I +tell you this, 'tis I that will loathe you, if you stay! I shall +abominate you, I shall not let you come into my sight! Now, sir, take +your choice, this instant. Keep your promise with me--" + +"'Twas not exactly a promise, my dear." + +"I say, keep it, and take me to London, and keep my love and respect; +or break your promise, and my heart, and take my hate and contempt. +Choose, I say! Which? This instant! Speak!" + +"Madge, dear, you are not yourself--" + +"Oh, but I am, though! More myself than ever! And my own mistress, +too! Speak, I bid you! Tell me we shall go. Answer--will you do as +your wife wishes?" + +"I will do as your husband ought." + +"Will you go to England?" + +"I will stay till I know the fate of the colonies; and to fight for +them if need be." + +"You give me up, for the sake of a whim, of some silly fustian about +patriotism, some fool's rubbish of high-sounding words! _Me_, you +balance against a crazy notion! Very well, sir! How I shall hate you +for it! Don't come near me--not a step! Cling to your notion; see if +it will fill my place! From this moment, you're not my husband, I'm +not your wife--unless you promise we shall sail in June! And don't +dare speak to me, except to tell me that!" + +Whereupon, paying no heed to his reproachful cry of "Madge," she swept +past him, and across the parlour, and up the hall staircase to her +room; leaving us all in the amazement which had held us motionless and +silent throughout the scene. + +Philip stood with his hand upon the chair-back where she had wept; +pale and silent, the picture of abandonment and sorrow. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_Ned Comes Back, with an Interesting Tale of a Fortunate Irishman._ + + +Before any of us knew what to say, a soft tread in the library +announced the approach of Mr. Cornelius. He entered unaware of the +scene that had just terminated, and with the stormy character of which +on Margaret's part, nothing could have been in greater contrast than +the quiescent atmosphere that ever accompanied the shy, low-speaking +pedagogue. His presence diffused peace and quietude; and more than +formerly was this the case of late, since he had resumed an intention +of entering the Presbyterian ministry. + +He had qualified himself for this profession at Princeton. But after +his full preparations, a conscientious scruple had arisen from a sense +of his diffidence, which he despaired of conquering, and by which he +believed his attempts at pulpit eloquence were sure to be defeated. +Though he could compass the hardihood to discourse to an assemblage of +distracting schoolboys several hours every week-day, he could not +summon the courage to address an audience of somnolent adults two +hours on Sunday. + +But latterly he had awakened to a new inward call, and resolved upon a +new trial of his powers. By way of preliminary training, he had set +about practising upon the sailors and wharfmen who ordinarily spent +their Sundays in gaming or boozing in low taverns along the +water-front. To as many of these as would gather in some open space, +at the sound of his voice raised tremulously in a hymn, he would +preach as a layman, thus borrowing from the Methodists a device by +which he hoped not only his present hearers, but also his own future +Presbyterian congregations, should benefit. It was from one of these +informal meetings, broken up by the news from Massachusetts, that he +was but now returned. + +The stupefaction in which we all sat, did not prevent our noting the +excitement in which Cornelius came; and Mr. Faringfield looked a mute +inquiry. + +"Your pardon, friends," said the pedagogue to the company; and then to +Mr. Faringfield: "If I might speak with you alone a moment, sir--" + +Mr. Faringfield went with him into the library, leaving us all under +new apprehension. + +"Dear bless me!" quoth Mrs. Faringfield, looking distressed. "More +calamity, I vow." + +In a moment we heard Mr. Faringfield's voice raised in a vehement "No, +sir!" Then the library door was reopened, and he returned to us, +followed by Cornelius, who was saying in his mildest voice: "But I +protest, sir--I entreat--he is a changed man, I assure you." + +"Changed for the worse, I make no doubt," returned the angry merchant. +"Let him not darken my door. If it weren't Sunday, I should send for a +constable this moment." + +"What is it?" cried Mrs. Faringfield. "Sure it can't be--that boy +again!" + +"Mr. Edward, madam," said the tutor. + +"Dear, dear, what a day! What a terrible day! And Sunday, too!" moaned +the lady, lying back in her chair, completely crushed, as if the last +blow of fate had fallen. + +"He arrived in the _Sarah_ brig, which anchored yesterday evening," +explained Mr. Cornelius, "but he didn't come ashore till this +morning." + +"He thought Sunday safer," said Mr. Faringfield, with scornful +derision. + +"I was returning from my service, when I met him," continued the +tutor. "He was at the Faringfield wharf, inquiring after the health of +the family, of Meadows the watchman. I--er--persuaded him to come home +with me." + +"You mean, sir, he persuaded you to come and intercede for him," said +Mr. Faringfield. + +"He is now waiting in the garden. I have been telling Mr. Faringfield, +ma'am, that the young man is greatly altered. Upon my word, he shows +the truest signs of penitence. I believe he is entirely reformed; he +says so." + +"You'd best let him come in, William," counselled Mrs. Faringfield. +"If you don't, goodness knows what he may do." + +"Madam, I resolved long ago to let the law do its utmost upon him, if +he should ever return." + +"Oh, but think what scandal! What will all my relations say? Besides, +if he is reformed--" + +"If he is reformed, let him show it by his conduct on my refusing to +take him back; and by suffering the penalty of his crime." + +"Oh!--penalty! Don't speak such words! A jailbird in the family! I +never could endure it! I shouldn't dare go to church, or be seen +anywhere in public!" + +"The same old discussion!" said Mr. Faringfield, with a wearied frown. + +"Papa, you won't send him to jail, will you?" ventured Fanny, with +eyes rapidly moistening, and lips turning to a pout in spite of +herself. + +"Really, sir," put in Cornelius, trembling at his own temerity, "if +you could but see him--take my word, sir, if ever there was a case +where forgiveness--" + +After much more of this sort of talk, and being shaken in will by the +day's previous excitements, Mr. Faringfield at length gave in so far +as to consent to an interview with the penitent, to whom thereupon +Cornelius hastened with the news. + +It was indeed a changed and chastened Ned, to all outward appearance, +that entered meekly with the pedagogue a few minutes later. His tread +was so soft, his demeanour so tame, that one would scarce have known +him but for a second look at his shapely face and burly figure. The +face was now somewhat hollowed out, darkened, lined, and blotched; and +elongated with meek resignation. His clothes--claret-coloured cloth +coat and breeches, flowered waistcoat, silk stockings, lace ruffles, +and all--were shabby and stained. He bowed to the company, and then +stood, furtively watching for some manifestation from the rest before +he dared proceed to warmer greetings. + +Fanny stepped softly forward and kissed him, in a shy, perfunctory +manner; and then good-natured Tom shook his hand, and Philip followed +suit; after which Mrs. Faringfield embraced him somewhat stiffly, and +I gingerly held his fingers a moment, and my mother hoped he found +himself well. + +"Quite well, I thank you, considering," said he; and then gazed in a +half-scared way at his father. All the old defiance had disappeared +under the blows of adversity. + +"Well, sir," said his father, coldly, "we had scarce looked for you +back among us." + +"No, sir," said Ned, still standing. "I had no right to be looked for, +sir--no more than the prodigal son had. I'm a bit like him, sir." + +"Don't count upon the fatted calf, however." + +"No, sir; not me. Very plain fare will do for me. I--I ask your +pardon, sir, for that--that business about Mr. Palmer." + +"The world has put you into a humble mood," said Mr. Faringfield, with +sarcastic indifference. + +"Yes, sir; the way of transgressors is hard, sir." + +"Why don't you sit down?" put in Mrs. Faringfield, who was made +uncomfortable by the sight of others being so. + +"Thank you, mother," said Ned, availing himself of the implied +permission. + +"I hear you've undergone a reformation," said his father. + +"I hope so, sir. They tell me I've got religion." + +"Who tells you?" + +"The Methodists. I went to their meetings in London. I--I thought I +needed a little of that kind of thing. That's how I happened to--to +save my soul." + +"And how do you conceive you will provide for your body?" + +"I don't know yet--exactly. If I might stay here till I could find +some employment--" + +Mr. Faringfield met the pleading look of Fanny, and the prudent one of +his wife. The latter reflected, as plainly as words, what had +manifestly entered his own mind: that immunity from future trouble on +Ned's account might indeed be had without recourse to a step entailing +public disgrace upon the family. So he said: + +"My intention was, if you should ever show your face in New York +again, to see you punished for that matter of the money and Mr. +Palmer. I don't give up that intention; I shall only postpone carrying +it out, during your good behaviour." + +"Thank you, sir; I dare say it's better than I deserve." + +And so was Mr. Ned established home again, to be provided for by his +father until he should obtain some means of self-support. In this task +his father offered no assistance, being cautious against vouching for +a person hitherto so untrustworthy; and it soon became evident that +Ned was not very vigorously prosecuting the task himself. He had the +excuse that it was a bad time for the purpose, the country being so +unsettled in the expectation of continued war. And he was content to +remain an idle charge upon his father's bounty, a somewhat neglected +inmate of the house, his comings and goings not watched or inquired +into. His father rarely had a word for him but of curt and formal +greeting. His mother found little more to say to him, and that in a +shy reserved manner. Margaret gave him no speeches, but sometimes a +look of careless derision and contempt, which must have caused him +often to grind his teeth behind his mask of humility. Philip's +courtesy to him was distinctly chilly; while Tom treated him rather +with the indifferent amiability of a new and not very close +acquaintance, than with any revival of old brotherly familiarity. I +shared Phil's doubts upon Ned's spiritual regeneration, and many +people in the town were equally skeptical. But there were enough of +those credulous folk that delight in the miraculous, who believed +fully in this marvellous conversion, and never tired of discussing the +wonder. And so Ned went about, posing as a brand snatched from the +burning, to the amusement of one-half the town, the admiration of the +other half, and the curiosity of both. + +"'Tis all fudge, says I," quoth lean old Bill Meadows, the watchman at +the Faringfield wharves. "His story and his face don't hitch. He +declares he was convarted by the Methodies, and he talks their talk +about salvation and redemption and the like. But if he really had +religion their way, he'd wear the face o' joy and gladness. Whereas he +goes about looking as sober as a covenanter that expected the day of +judgment to-morrow and knew he was predestinated for one O' the goats. +Methodie convarts don't wear Presbyterian faces. Ecod, sir" (this he +said to Phil, with whom he was on terms of confidence), "he's got it +in his head that religion and a glum face goes together; and he +thereby gives the lie to his Methodie convarsion." + +Ned was at first in rather sore straits for a companion, none of his +old associates taking well to his reformation. He had to fall back +upon poor Cornelius, who was always the most obliging of men and could +never refuse his company or aught else to any tolerable person that +sought it. But in a week or so Ned had won back Fanny to her old +allegiance, and she, in the kindness of her heart, and in her pity +that the poor repentant fellow should be so misunderstood, his +amendment so doubted, gave him as much of her time as he asked for. +She walked with him, rode with him, and boated with him. This was all +greatly to my cost and annoyance; for, ever since she had so gently +commiserated my loss of Margaret, I had learned more and more to value +her sweet consolation, rely upon her sympathy in all matters, and find +serenity and happiness in her society. It had come to be that two were +company, three were none--particularly when the third was Ned. So, if +she _would_ go about with him, I left her to go with him alone; and I +suffered, and pined, and raged inwardly, in consequence. 'Twas this +deprivation that taught me how necessary she was to me; and how her +presence gave my days half their brightness, my nights half their +beauty, my taste of everything in life half its sweetness. Philip was +unreservedly welcome to Madge now; I wondered I had been so late in +discovering the charms of Fanny. + +But one day I noticed that a coolness had arisen between her and Ned; +a scarce evident repulsion on her part, a cessation of interest on +his. This was, I must confess, as greatly to my satisfaction as to my +curiosity. But Fanny was no more a talebearer than if she had been of +our sex; and Ned was little like to disclose the cause intentionally: +so I did not learn it until by inference from a passage that occurred +one night at the King's Arms' Tavern. + +Poor Philip, avoided and ignored by Madge, who had not yet relented, +was taking an evening stroll with me, in the soothing company of the +pedagogue; when we were hailed by Ned with an invitation to a mug of +ale in the tavern. Struck with the man's apparent wistfulness for +company, and moved by a fellow feeling of forlornness, Philip +accepted; and Cornelius, always acquiescent, had not the ill grace to +refuse. So the four of us sat down together at a table. + +"I wish I might offer you madeira, gentlemen; or punch, at least," +said Ned regretfully, "but you know how it is. I'm reaping what I +sowed. Things might be worse. I knew 'em worse in London--before I +turned over a new leaf." + +The mugs being emptied, and the rest of us playing host in turn, they +were several times replenished. Ned had been drinking before he met +us; but this was not apparent until he began to show the effect of his +potations while the heads of us his companions were still perfectly +clear. It was evident that he had not allowed his conversion to wean +him from this kind of indulgence. The conversation reverted to his +time of destitution in London. + +"Such experiences," observed Cornelius, "have their good fruits. They +incline men to repentance who might else continue in their evil ways +all their lives." + +"Yes, sir; that's the truth!" cried Ned. "If I'd had some people's +luck--but it's better to be saved than to make a fortune--although, to +be sure, there are fellows, rascals, too, that the Lord seems to take +far better care of than he does of his own!" + +Mr. Cornelius looked a little startled at this. But the truth was, I +make no doubt, that the pretence of virtue, adopted for the purpose of +regaining the comforts of his father's house, wore heavily upon Ned; +that he chafed terribly under it sometimes; and that this was one of +the hours when, his wits and tongue loosened by drink, he became +reckless and allowed himself relief. He knew that Philip, Cornelius, +and I, never tattled. And so he cast the muzzle of sham reformation +from his mouth. + +He was silent for a while, recollections of past experience rising +vividly in his mind, as they will when a man comes to a certain stage +of drink. + +"Sure, luck is an idiot," he burst out presently, wrathful from his +memories. "It reminds me of a fool of a wench that passes over a +gentleman and flings herself at a lout. For, lookye, there was two of +us in London, a rascal Irishman and me, that lived in the same +lodgings. We did that to save cost, after we'd both had dogs' fortune +at the cards and the faro-table. If it hadn't been for a good-natured +woman or two--I spoke ill of the breed just now, but they have their +merits--we'd have had no lodgings at all then, except the Fleet, +maybe, or Newgate, if it had come to that. Well, as I was saying, we +were both as near starvation as ever _I_ wish to be, the Irishman and +me. There we were, poverty-stricken as rats, both tarred with the same +stick, no difference between us except he was an ugly brute, and a +scoundrel, and a man of no family. Now if either of us deserved good +fortune, it certainly was me; there can't be any question of that. And +yet, here I am, driven to the damnedest tedious time of it for bare +food and shelter, and compelled to drink ale when I'm--oh, curse it, +gentlemen, was ever such rotten luck?" + +Cornelius, whom disillusion had stricken into speechlessness at this +revelation of the old Ned under the masquerade, sighed heavily and +looked pained. But Philip, always curious upon matters of human +experience, asked: + +"What of the Irishman?" + +"Driving in his chariot, the dog! Swaggering in Pall Mall; eating and +drinking at taverns that it makes my mouth water to think of; laying +his hundred guineas a throw, if he likes. Oh, the devil! The fat of +London for that fellow; and me cast off here in New York to the most +hellish dull life! 'Tisn't a fair dispensation; upon my soul it +isn't!" + +"And what made him so fortunate?" inquired Philip. + +"Ay, that's the worst of it! What good are a man's relations? What +good are mine, at least? For that knave had only one relation, but she +was of some use, Lord knows! When it came to the worst with him, he +walked to Bristol, and begged or stole passage to Ireland, and hunted +up his sister, who had a few pounds a year of her own. He had thought +of borrowing a guinea or two, to try his fortune with again. But when +he saw his sister, he found she'd grown up into a beauty--no more of a +beauty than my sisters, though; but she was a girl of enterprise and +spirit. I don't say Madge isn't that; but she's married and done for. +But Fanny--well, I don't see anything brilliant in store for Fanny." + +"What has she to do with the affairs of your Irishman?" I asked. + +"Oh, nothing. She's a different kind from this Irish lady. For what +did that girl do, after her brother had seen her and got the idea, +than pack up and come to London with him. And he showed her around so +well, and her fine looks made such an impression, that within three +months he had her married to a lord's son--the heir to Lord Ilverton's +estates and title. And now she's a made woman, and he's a made man, +and what do you think of that for a lucky brother and a clever sister? +And yet, compared with Fanny--" + +"Do you mean to say," interrupted Philip, in a low voice, "that you +have ever thought of Fanny as a partner in such a plan?" + +"Little use to think of her," replied Ned, contemptuously. "She hasn't +the spirit. I'm afraid there ain't many sisters like Mullaney's. Poor +Fan wouldn't even listen--" + +"Did you dare propose it to her?" said Phil. My own feelings were too +strong for speech. + +"Dare!" repeated Ned. "Why not? 'Twould have made her fortune--" + +"Upon my word," put in Mr. Cornelius, no longer able to contain his +opinions, "I never heard of such rascality!" + +Something in the pedagogue's tone, I suppose, or in Ned's stage of +tipsiness at the moment, gave the speech an inflammatory effect. Ned +stared a moment at the speaker, in amazement. Then he said, with +aroused insolence: + +"What's this, Mr. Parson? What have _you_ to say here? My sister is +_my_ sister, let me tell you--" + +"If she knew you as well as I do now," retorted Cornelius, quietly, +"she wouldn't boast of the relationship." + +"What the devil!" cried Ned, in an elevated voice, thus drawing the +attention of the four or five other people in the room. "Who is this, +talks of relationships? You cursed parson-pedagogue--!" + +"Be quiet, Ned," warned Philip. "Everybody hears you." + +"I don't care," replied Ned, rising, and again addressing Cornelius. +"Does anybody boast of relationships to you, you tow-headed bumpkin? +Do you think you can call me to account, as you can the scum you +preach to on the wharves? I'll teach you!" + +Whereat, Cornelius being opposite him, Ned violently pushed forward +the table so as to carry the tutor over backward in his chair. His +head and back struck the floor heavily, and he lay supine beneath the +upset table. + +An excited crowd instantly surrounded our group. Philip and I +immediately removed the table, and helped Cornelius to his feet. The +pedagogue's face was afire; his fists were clenched; his chest +swelled; and one could judge from his wrists what sturdy arms his +sleeves encased. As he advanced upon Ned, he was all at once become so +formidable a figure that no one thought to interpose. Ned himself, +appalled at the approaching embodiment of anger and strength, +retreated a foot or two from the expected blow. Everybody looked to +see him stretched flat in a moment; when Cornelius suddenly stopped, +relaxed his muscles, unclosed his fists, and said to his insulter, in +a quiet but virile voice quite different from that of his usual +speech: + +"By the grace of God, I put my hands behind my back; for I've spoiled +handsomer faces than yours, Edward Faringfield!" + +There was a moment's pause. + +"The grace of God has no such effect upon me!" said I, rapping Ned +over the mouth with the back of my hand. Before the matter could go +any further, Philip caught my arm, and Cornelius's, and hurried us out +of the tavern. + +I now knew what had broken the friendship between Fanny and her +worthless brother. I feared a catastrophe when Mr. Faringfield should +learn of the occurrence at the tavern. But, thanks to the silence of +us who were concerned, and to the character of the few gentlemen with +whom he deigned to converse, it never came to his ears. Ned, restored +to his senses, and fearing for his maintenance, made no attempt to +retaliate my blow; and resumed his weary pretence of reformation. But +years afterward we were to recall his story of the Irishman's sister. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_Enemies in War._ + + +As this is not a history of the wars I shall not dwell upon the talk +and preparations that went on during the weeks ensuing upon our +eventful Sunday: which talk was common to both parties, but which +preparations were mainly on the part of the rebels, we loyalists +awaiting events and biding the return from England of Governor Tryon. +There were looks of suspicion exchanged, and among the more violent +and uncouth there were open boasts bandied, open taunts reciprocated, +and open threats hurled back and forth. Most of the quality of the +town were on the loyal side; but yet there were some excellent +families--such as the Livingstones--who stood first and last among the +so-called Whigs. This was the case in great part of the country, the +wealth and culture, with distinguished exceptions, being for the king +and parliament; though, I must own, a great quantity of the brains +being on the other side: but in Virginia and her Southerly neighbours, +strange to say, the aristocracy largely, though not entirely, leaned +toward revolt; for what reason I never knew, unless it was that many +of them, descended from younger sons of good English stock who had +been exiled as black sheep or ne'er-do-wells, inherited feelings +similar to Mr. Faringfield's. Or perhaps 'twas indeed a pride, which +made them resentful of the superiority assumed by native Englishmen +over them as colonists. Or they may have felt that they should +actually become slaves in submitting to be taxed by a parliament in +which they were not represented. In any case, they (like Philip +Winwood and Mr. Faringfield, the Adamses of Boston, and thousands of +others) had motives that outweighed in them the sentiment of loyalty, +the passion of attachment to the land whence we had drawn our race and +still drew our culture and all our refinements and graces. This +sentiment, and this passion, made it impossible for Tom Faringfield +and me to see any other course for us than undeviating fidelity to the +king and the mother-country. There were of course some loyalists (or +Tories, if you prefer that name) who took higher views than arose from +their mere affections, and who saw harm for America in any revolt from +English government; and there were others, doubtless, whose motives +were entirely low and selfish, such as holders of office under the +crown, and men who had powers and privileges of which any change of +system, any disturbance of the royal authority, might deprive them. It +was Philip who called my attention to this last class, and to the +effect its existence must have on the common people in the crisis then +present. + +"The colonists of America are not like any other people," said he. +"Their fathers came to this land when it was a savage wilderness, +tearing themselves from their homes, from civil surroundings; that +they might be far from tyranny, in small forms as well as great. Not +merely tyranny of king or church, but the shapes of it that Hamlet +speaks of--'the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the +insolence of office.' All for the sake of liberty, they battled with +savages and with nature, fought and toiled, bled and starved. And +Tyranny ignored them till they had transformed their land and +themselves into something worth its attention. And then, backed and +sustained by royal authority, those hated things stole in upon +them--'the insolence of office, the proud man's contumely, the +oppressor's wrong.' This, lookye, besides the particular matter of +taxation without representation; of being bid to obey laws they have +no hand in making; of having a set of masters, three thousand miles +away, and not one of their own land or their own choosing, order them +to do thus and so:--why, 'twere the very soul and essence of slavery +to submit! Man, how can you wonder I am of their side?" + +"And with your taste for the things to be found only in the monarchies +of Europe; for the arts, and the monuments of past history, the places +hallowed by great events and great men!" said I, quoting remembered +expressions of his own. + +"Why," says he, smiling a little regretfully, "we shall have our own +arts and hallowed places some day; meanwhile one's taste must defer to +one's heart and one's intelligence." + +"Yes," said I, with malicious derision, "when 'tis so great a question +as a paltry tax upon tea." + +"'Tis no such thing," says he, warming up; "'tis a question of being +taxed one iota, the thousandth part of a farthing, by a body of +strangers, a body in which we are not represented." + +"Neither were we represented in it when it sent armies to protect us +from the French, and toward the cost of which 'tis right we should +pay." + +"We paid, in men and money both. And the armies were sent less for our +protection than for the aggrandisement of England. She was fighting +the French the world over; in America, as elsewhere, the only +difference being that in America we helped her." + +So 'twas disputed between many another pair of friends, between +brothers, between fathers and sons, husbands and wives. I do not know +of another civil war that made as many breaks in families. Meanwhile, +the local authorities--those of local election, not of royal +appointment--were yet outwardly noncommittal. When Colonel Washington, +the general-in-chief appointed by the congress of the colonies at +Philadelphia, was to pass through New York on his way to Cambridge, +where the New England rebels were surrounding the king's troops in +Boston, it was known that Governor Tryon would arrive from England +about the same time. Our authorities, rather than seem to favour one +side, sent a committee to New Jersey to meet the rebel commander and +escort him through the town, and immediately thereafter paid a similar +attention to the royal governor. One of those who had what they +considered the honour of riding behind Mr. Washington a part of his +way (he came accompanied by a troop of horse from Philadelphia, and +made a fine, commanding figure, I grant) was Philip Winwood. When he +returned from Kingsbridge, I, pretending I had not gone out of my way +to see the rebel generalissimo pass, met him with a smile, as if to +make a joke of all the rebel preparations: + +"Well," says I, "what manner of hero is your illustrious chief? A very +Julius Caesar, I make no doubt." + +"A grave and modest gentleman," says Phil, "and worthy of all the +admiration you used to have for him when we would talk of the French +War. I remember you would say he was equal to all the regular English +officers together; and how you declared Governor Shirley was a fool +for not giving him a king's commission." + +"Well," said I, "'tis a thousand to one, that if Colonel Washington +hadn't been disappointed of a king's commission, he wouldn't now be +leader of the king's enemies." I knew I had no warrant the slightest +for attributing Mr. Washington's patriotism to such a petty motive as +a long-cherished resentment of royal neglect; and years afterward, in +London, I was to chastise an equally reckless speaker for a similar +slander; but I was young and partisan, and being nettled by the +reminder of my inconsistency, spoke to irritate. + +"That is a lie!" said Phil, quietly, looking me straight in the face. + +Such a word from Philip made me stare in amazement; but it did not +improve my temper, or incline me to acknowledge the injustice I had +uttered. My face burned, my fingers clenched. But it was Philip that +had spoken; and a thing or two flashed into my mind in the pause; and, +controlling myself, I let out a long breath, opened my fists, and, +with the best intentions in the world, and with the quietest voice, +gave him a blow far more severe than a blow of the fist had been. + +"I will take that from you, Phil," said I: "God knows, your stand in +this rebellion has caused you enough unhappiness." + +He winced, and sent me a startled look, stung at my alluding to the +estrangement of his wife. I know not whether he took it as a taunt +from so dear a friend, or whether the mere mention of so delicate a +sorrow was too much for him; but his face twitched, and he gave a +swallow, and was hard put to it to hold back the tears. + +"Forgive me," I said, stricken to the heart at sight of this. "I am +your friend always, Phil." I put a hand upon his shoulder, and his +face turned to a kindly expression of pardon, a little short of the +smile he dared not yet trust himself to attempt. + +Margaret's demeanour to him, indeed, had not shown the smallest +softening. But to the rest of the world, after the immediate effects +of that Sunday scene had worn off, she seemed vastly more sparkling +and fascinating than ever before: whether she was really so, and of +intention, or whether the appearance was from contrast with her +treatment of Philip, I dare not say. But the impression was Philip's, +I think, as well as every one's else; and infinitely it multiplied the +sorrow of which he would not speak, but which his countenance could +not conceal. When the news of the affair at Bunker's Hill was +discussed at the supper-table one evening in June, I being present, +and Margaret heard how bravely the British charged the third and +successful time up to the rebel works, after being hurled back twice +by a very hell of musketry, she dropped her fork, and clapped her +hands, crying: + +"Bravo, bravo! 'Tis such men that grow in England. I could love every +one of 'em!" + +"Brave men, I allow," said Philip; "but as for their victory, 'twas +but a technical one, if accounts be true. Their loss was greater than +ours; and the fight proved that Americans can stand before British +regulars." + +Margaret paid no more notice than if Philip had not spoken--'twas her +practice now to ignore his speeches not directed to herself alone--and +when he had done, she said, blithely, to one of the young De Lanceys, +who was a guest: + +"And so they drove the Yankees out! And what then, cousin?" + +"Why, that was all. But as for the men that grow in England, you'll +find some of us grown in America quite as ready to fight for the king, +if matters go on. Only wait till Governor Tryon sets about calling for +loyal regiments. We shall be falling over one another in the scramble +to volunteer. But I mean to be first." + +"Good, cousin!" she cried. "You may kiss my hand for that--nay, my +cheek, if I could reach it to you." + +"Faith," said De Lancey, after gallantly touching her fingers with his +lips, "if all the ladies in New York had such hands, and offered 'em +to be kissed by each recruit for the king, there'd be no man left to +fight on the rebel side." + +"Why, his Majesty is welcome to my two hands for the purpose, and my +face, too," she rattled on. "But some of our New York rebels were +going to do great things: 'tis two months now, and yet we see nothing +of their doings." + +"Have a little patience, madam," said Philip, very quietly. "We rebels +may be further advanced in our arrangements than is known in all +quarters." + +The truth of this was soon evident. In the open spaces of the +town--the parade-ground (or Bowling Green) outside the fort; the +common at the head of the town; before the very barracks in Chambers +Street that had just been vacated by the last of the royal troops in +New York, they having sailed for Boston rather for their own safety +than to swell the army there--there was continual instructing and +drilling of awkward Whigs. Organisation had proceeded throughout the +province, whose entire rebel force was commanded by Mr. Philip +Schuyler, of Albany; subordinate to whom was Mr. Richard Montgomery, +an Irish gentleman who had first set foot in America at Louisbourg, as +a king's officer, and who now resided beyond Kingsbridge. + +It was under Montgomery that Philip Winwood took service, enlisting as +a private soldier, but soon revealing such knowledge of military +matters that he was speedily, in the off-hand manner characteristic of +improvised armies, made a lieutenant. This was a little strange, +seeing that there was a mighty scramble for commissions, nine out of +every ten patriots, however raw, clamouring to be officers; and it +shows that sometimes (though 'tis not often) modest merit will win as +well as self-assertive incompetence. Philip had obtained his +acquaintance with military forms from books; he was, in his ability to +assimilate the matter of a book, an exception among men; and a still +greater exception in his ability to apply that matter practically. +Indeed, it sometimes seemed that he could get out of a book not only +all that was in it, but more than was in it. Many will not believe +what I have related of him, that he had actually learned the rudiments +of fencing, the soldier's manual of arms, the routine of camp and +march, and such things, from reading; but it is a fact: just as it is +true that Greene, the best general of the rebels after Washington, +learned military law, routine, tactics, and strategy, from books he +read at the fire of the forge where he worked as blacksmith; and that +the men whom he led to Cambridge, from Rhode Island, were the best +disciplined, equipped, uniformed, and maintained, of the whole Yankee +army at that time. As for Philip's gift of translating printed matter +into actuality, I remember how, when we afterward came to visit +strange cities together, he would find his way about without a +question, like an old resident, through having merely read +descriptions of the places. + +But rank did not come unsought, or otherwise, to Philip's fellow +volunteer from the Faringfield house, Mr. Cornelius. The pedagogue, +with little to say on the subject, took the rebel side as a matter of +course, Presbyterians being, it seems, republican in their nature. He +went as a private in the same company with Philip. + +It was planned that the rebel troops of New York province should +invade Canada by way of Lake George, while the army under Washington +continued the siege of Boston. Philip went through the form of +arranging that his wife should remain at her father's house--the only +suitable home for her, indeed--during his absence in the field; and +so, in the Summer of 1775, upon a day much like that in which he had +first come to us twelve years before, it was ours to wish him for a +time farewell. + +Mr. Faringfield and his lady, with Fanny and Tom, stood in the hall, +and my mother and I had joined them there, when Philip came +down-stairs in his new blue regimentals. He wore his sword, but it was +not his wife that had buckled it on. There had been no change in her +manner toward him: he was still to her but as a strange guest in the +house, rather to be disdained than treated with the courtesy due even +to a strange guest. We all asked ourselves what her farewell would be, +but none mentioned the thought. As Phil came into view at the first +landing, he sent a quick glance among us to see if she was there. For +a moment his face was struck into a sadly forlorn expression; but, as +if by chance, she came out of the larger parlour at that moment, and +his countenance revived almost into hope. The rest of us had already +said our good-byes to Mr. Cornelius, who now stood waiting for Philip. +As the latter reached the foot of the stairs, Margaret suddenly turned +to the pedagogue, to add her civility to ours, for she had always +liked the bashful fellow, and _his_ joining the rebels was to her a +matter of indifference--it did not in any way affect her own pleasure. +This movement on her part made it natural that Philip's first +leave-taking should be of Mr. Faringfield, who, seeing Margaret +occupied, went forward and grasped Phil's hand. + +"God bless thee, lad," said he, showing the depth of his feelings as +much by a tenderness very odd in so cold a man, as by reverting to the +old pronoun now becoming obsolete except with Quakers, "and bring thee +safe out of it all, and make thy cause victorious!" + +"Good-bye, Philip," said Mrs. Faringfield, with some betrayal of +affection, "and heaven bring you back to us!" + +Fanny's farewell, though spoken with a voice more tremulous and eyes +more humid, was in the same strain; and so was that of my mother, +though she could not refrain from adding, "Tis such a pity!" and +wishing that so handsome a soldier was on the right side. + +"Good-bye and good luck, dear old Phil!" was all that Tom said. + +"And so say I," I put in, taking his hand in my turn, and trying not +to show my discomposure, "meaning to yourself, but not to your cause. +Well--dear lad--heaven guard you, and give you a speedy return! For +your sake and ours, may the whole thing be over before your campaign +is begun. I should like to see a war, and be in one--but not a war +like this, that makes enemies of you and me. Good-bye, Phil--and come +back safe and sound." + +'Twas Margaret's time now, for Ned was not present. There was a pause, +as Phil turned questioningly--nay wistfully--toward her. She met his +look calmly. Old Noah and some of the negroes, who had pressed forward +to see Phil's departure from the house, were waiting for her to speak, +that they might afterward call out their Godspeed. + +"Good-bye!" she said, at last, holding out her hand indifferently. + +He took the hand, bent over it, pressed it with his lips. Then he +looked at her again. I think she must have shown just the slightest +yielding, given just the least permission, in her eyes; for he went +nearer, and putting his arm around her, gently drew her close to him, +and looked down at her. Suddenly she turned her face up, and pursed +her lips. With a look of gladness, he passionately kissed her. + +"God bless you, my dear wife," he whispered; and then, as if by +expecting more he might court a disappointment to mar the memory of +that leave-taking, he released her, and said to us all: "Take care of +her, I pray!" whereupon, abruptly turning, he hastened out of the open +door, waving back his hat in response to our chorus of good-byes, and +the loud "Go' bless you, Massa Philip!" of the negroes. + +We followed quickly to the porch, to look after him. But he strode off +so fast that Cornelius had to run to keep up with him. He did not once +look back, even when he passed out of sight at the street corner. I +believe he divined that his wife would not be among those looking +after, and that he wished not to interpose any other last impression +of his dear home than that of her kiss. + +When we came back into the hall, she had flown. Later, as my mother +and I went through the garden homeward, passing beneath Margaret's +open windows, we heard her weeping--not violently, but steadily, +monotonously, as if she had a long season of the past to regret, a +long portion of the future to sorrow for. And here let me say that I +think Margaret, from first to last, loved Philip with more tenderness +than she was capable of bestowing upon any one else; with an affection +so deep that sometimes it might be obscured by counter feelings +playing over the surface of her heart, so deep that often she might +not be conscious of its presence, but so deep that it might never be +uprooted:--and 'twas that which made things the more pitiful. + +Tom and I went out, with a large number of the town's people, to watch +the rebel soldiers depart, and we saw Philip with his company, and +exchanged with him a smile and a wave of the hat. How little we +thought that one of us he was never to meet again, that the other he +was not to see in many years, and that four of those years were to +pass ere he should set foot again in Queen Street. + +Many things, to be swiftly passed over in my history, occurred in +those four years. One of these, the most important to me, happened a +short time after Philip's departure for the North. It was a brief +conversation with Fanny, and it took place upon the wayside walk at +what they call the Battery, at the green Southern end of the town, +where it is brought to a rounded point by the North and East Rivers +approaching each other as they flow into the bay. To face the gentle +breeze, I stopped and turned so we might look Southward over the bay, +toward where, at the distant Narrows, Long Island and Staten Island +seem to meet and close it in. + +"I don't like to look out yonder," said Fanny. "It makes me imagine +I'm away on the ocean, by myself. And it seems so lonely." + +"Why, you poor child," replied I, "'tis a sin you should ever feel +lonely; you do so much to prevent others being so." I turned my back +upon the bay, and led her past the fort, toward the Broadway. "You +see," said I, abruptly, glancing at her brown eyes, which dropped in a +charming confusion, "how much you need a comrade." I remember I was +not entirely unconfused myself at that moment, for inspiration had +suddenly shown me my opportunity, and how to use it, and some inward +trepidation was inseparable from a plunge into the matter I was now +resolved upon going through. + +"Why," says she, blushing, and seeming, as she walked, to take a great +interest in her pretty feet, "I have several comrades as it is." + +"Yes. But I mean one that should devote himself to you alone. Philip +has Margaret; and besides, he is gone now, and so is Mr. Cornelius. +And Tom will be finding a wife some day, and your parents cannot live +for ever, and your friends will be married one after another." + +"Poor me!" says she, with a sigh of comic wofulness. "How helpless and +alone you make me feel!" + +"Not so entirely alone, neither! There's one I didn't mention." + +"And that one, too, I suppose, will be running off some day." + +"No. He, like Tom, will be seeking a wife some day; perhaps sooner +than Tom; perhaps very soon indeed; perhaps this very minute." + +"Oh, Bert!--What nonsense! Don't look at me so, here in the +street--people will take notice." + +"What do I care for people? Let the fellows all see, and envy me, if +you'll give me what I ask. What say you, dearest? Speak; tell me! Nay, +if you won't, I'll make you blush all the more--I love you, I love +you, I love you! Now will you speak?" + +"Oh, Bert, dear, at least wait till we are home!" + +"If you'll promise to say yes then." + +"Very well--if 'twill please you." + +"Nay, it must be to please yourself too. You do love me a little, +don't you?" + +"Why, of course I do; and you must have known it all the time!" + +But, alas, her father's "yes" was not so easily to be won. I broached +the matter to him that very evening (Fanny and I meanwhile having come +to a fuller understanding in the seclusion of the garden); but he +shook his head, and regarded me coldly. + +"No, sir," said he. "For, however much you are to be esteemed as a +young gentleman of honour and candour and fine promise, 'tis for me to +consider you rather as an adherent of a government that has persecuted +my country, and now makes war upon it. The day may come when you will +find a more congenial home nearer the crown you have already expressed +your desire to fight for. And then, if Fanny were your wife, you would +carry her off to make an Englishwoman of her, as my first daughter +would have been carried by her husband, upon different motives, but +for this war. Perhaps 'twere better she could have gone," he added, +with a sigh, for Margaret had been his favourite child; "my loss of +her could scarce have been more complete than it is. But 'tis not so +with Fanny." + +"But, sir, I am not to take it that you refuse me, definitely, +finally?--I beg--" + +"Nay, sir, I only say that we must wait. Let us see what time shall +bring to pass. I believe that you will not--and I am sure that Fanny +will not--endeavour any act without my consent, or against my wish. +Nay, I don't bid you despair, neither. Time shall determine." + +I was not so confident that I would not endeavour any act without his +consent; but I shared his certainty that Fanny would not. And so, in +despondency, I took the news to her. + +"Well," says she, with a sigh. "We must wait, that's all." + +While we were waiting, and during the Fall and Winter, we heard now +and then from Philip, for communication was still possible between New +York and the rebel army proceeding toward Canada. He wrote Margaret +letters of which the rest of us never saw the contents; but he wrote +to Mr. Faringfield and me also. His history during this time was that +of his army, of which we got occasional news from other sources. +During part of September and all of October it was besieging St. +John's, which capitulated early in November. Schuyler's ill-health had +left the supreme active command to Montgomery. The army pushed on, and +occupied Montreal, though it failed to capture Governor Carleton; who +escaped to Quebec in a boat, by ingeniously disguising himself as a +countryman. At Montreal the jealousies and quarrels of officers, so +summarily created such, gave Montgomery much trouble, and when he set +forward for Quebec, there to join the force sent under Arnold through +the Maine wilderness from the rebel main army at Cambridge, he could +take with him but three hundred men--so had the patriot warriors of +New York fallen off in zeal and numbers! But you may be sure it was +not from Philip's letters that we got these items disadvantageous to +his cause. + +Our last word from him was when he was in quarters before Quebec: +Cornelius was with him; and they were having a cold and snowy time of +it, waiting for Quebec to fall before them. He mentioned casually that +he had been raised to a captaincy: we afterward learned that this was +for brave conduct upon the occasion of a sally of Scotch troops from +one of the gates of Quebec to cut off a mortar battery and a body of +riflemen; Philip had not only saved the battery and the riflemen, but +had made prisoners of the sallying party. + +Late in the Winter--that is to say, early in 1776--we learned of the +dire failure of the night attack made by the combined forces of +Montgomery and Arnold upon Quebec at the end of December, 1775; that +Arnold had been wounded, his best officers taken prisoners, and +Montgomery killed. The first reports said nothing of Winwood. When +Margaret heard the news, she turned white as a sheet; and at this +triumph of British arms my joy was far outweighed, Mr. Faringfield's +grief multiplied, by fears lest Philip, who we knew would shirk no +danger, had met a fate similar to his commander's. But subsequent news +told us that he was a prisoner, though severely wounded. We comforted +ourselves with considering that he was like to receive good nursing +from the French nuns of Quebec. And eventually we found the name of +Captain Winwood in a list of rebel prisoners who were to be exchanged; +from which, as a long time had passed, we inferred that he was now +recovered of his injuries; whereupon Margaret, who had never spoken of +him, or shown her solicitude other than by an occasional dispirited +self-abstraction, regained all her gaiety and was soon her old, +charming self again. In due course, we learned that the exchange of +prisoners had been effected, and that a number of officers (among whom +was Captain Winwood) had departed from Quebec, bound whither we were +not informed; and after that we lost track of him for many and many a +month. + +Meanwhile, the war had made itself manifest in New York: at first +distantly, as by the passage of a few rebel companies from +Pennsylvania and Virginia through the town on their way to Cambridge; +by continued enlistments for the rebel cause; by the presence of a +small rebel force of occupation; and by quiet enrolments of us +loyalists for service when our time should come. But in the beginning +of the warm weather of 1776, the war became apparent in its own shape. +The king's troops under Sir William Howe had at last evacuated Boston +and sailed to Halifax, taking with them a host of loyalists, whose +flight was held up to us New York Tories as prophetic of our own fate. +Washington now supposed, rightly, that General Howe intended presently +to occupy New York; and so down upon our town, and the island on which +it was, and upon Long Island, came the rebel main army from Cambridge; +and brought some very bad manners with it, for all that there never +was a finer gentleman in the world than was at its head, and that I am +bound to own some of his officers and men to have been worthy of him +in good breeding. Here the army was reinforced by regiments from the +middle and Southern provinces; and for awhile we loyalists kept close +mouths. Margaret, indeed, for the time, ceased altogether to be a +loyalist, in consequence of the gallantry of certain officers in blue +and buff, and several Virginia dragoons in blue and red, with whom she +was brought into acquaintance through her father's attachment to the +rebel interest. She expanded and grew brilliant in the sunshine of +admiration (she had even a smile and compliment from Washington +himself, at a ball in honour of the rebel declaration of independence) +in which she lived during the time when New York abounded with rebel +troops. + +But that was a short time; for the British disembarked upon Long +Island, met Washington's army there and defeated it, so that it had to +slip back to New York in boats by night; then landed above the town, +almost in time to cut it off as it fled Northward; fought part of it +on the heights of Harlem; kept upon its heels in Westchester County; +encountered it again near White Plains; and came back triumphant to +winter in and about New York. And now we loyalists and the rebel +sympathisers exchanged tunes; and Margaret was as much for the king +again as ever--she never cared two pins for either cause, I fancy, +save as it might, for the time being, serve her desire to shine. + +She was radiant and joyous, and made no attempt to disguise her +feelings, when it was a settled fact that the British army should +occupy New York indefinitely. + +"'Tis glorious!" said she, dancing up and down the parlour before Tom +and me. "This will be some relief from dulness, some consolation! The +town will be full of gallant generals and colonels, handsome majors, +dashing captains; there are lords and baronets among 'em; they'll be +quartered in all the good houses; there will be fine uniforms, +regimental bands, and balls and banquets! Why, I can quite endure +this! War has its compensations. We'll have a merry winter of it, +young gentlemen! Sure 'twill be like a glimpse of London." + +"And there'll be much opportunity for vain ladies to have their heads +turned!" quoth Tom, half in jest, half in disapproval. + +"I know nothing of that," says she, "but I do know whose sister will +be the toast of the British Army before a month is past!" + +If the king's troops acquired a toast upon entering New York, the +rebels had gained a volunteer upon leaving it. One day, just before +Washington's army fled, Tom Faringfield came to me with a face all +amusement. + +"Who do you think is the latest patriot recruit?" cried he. It was our +custom to give the rebels ironically their own denomination of +patriots. + +"Not you nor I, at any rate," said I. + +"But one of the family, nevertheless." + +"Why, surely--your father has not--" + +"Oh, no; only my father's eldest." + +"Ned?" + +"Nobody else. Fancy Ned taking the losing side! Oh, 'fore God, it's +true! He came home in a kind of uniform to-day, and told father what +he had done; the two had a long talk together in private after that; +and though father never shows his thoughts, I believe he really has +some hopes of Ned now. The rebels made a lieutenant of him, on +father's account. I wonder what his game is." + +"I make no doubt, to curry favour with his father." + +"Maybe. But perhaps to get an excuse for leaving town, and a way of +doing so. I've heard some talk--they say poor Sally Roberts's +condition is his work." + +"Very like. Your brother is a terrible Adonis--with ladies of a +certain kind." + +"Not such an Adonis neither--at least the Adonis that Venus courted in +Shakespeare's poem. Rather a Jove, I should say." + +We did not then suspect the depth of Mr. Ned's contrivance or +duplicity. He left New York with the rebels, and 'twas some time ere +we saw, or heard of, him again. + +And now at last several loyalist brigades were formed as auxiliaries +to the royal army, and Tom and I were soon happy in the consciousness +of serving our king, and in the possession of the green uniforms that +distinguished the local from the regular force. We were of Colonel +Cruger's battalion, of General Oliver De Lancey's brigade, and both +were so fortunate as to obtain commissions, Tom receiving that of +lieutenant, doubtless by reason of his mother's relationship to +General De Lancey, and I being made an ensign, on account of the +excellent memory in which my father was held by the loyal party. Mr. +Faringfield, like many another father in similar circumstances, was +outwardly passive upon his son's taking service against his own cause: +as a prudent man, he had doubtless seen from the first the advantage +of having a son actually under arms for the king, for it gave him and +his property such safety under the British occupation as even his +lady's loyalist affiliations might not have sufficed to do. Therefore +Tom, as a loyalist officer, was no less at home than formerly, in the +house of his rebel father. I know not how many such family situations +were brought about by this strange war. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_I Meet an Old Friend in the Dark._ + + +I shall not give an account of my military service, since it entered +little into the history of Philip Winwood. 'Twas our duty to help man +the outposts that guarded the island at whose Southern extremity New +York lies, from rebel attack; especially from the harassments of the +partisan troops, and irregular Whiggery, who would swoop down in +raiding parties, cut off our foragers, drive back our wood-cutters, +and annoy us in a thousand ways. We had such raiders of our own, too, +notably Captain James De Lancey's Westchester Light Horse, Simcoe's +Rangers, and the Hessian yagers, who repaid the visits of our enemies +by swift forays across the neutral ground between the two armies. + +But this warfare did not exist in its fulness till later, when the +American army formed about us an immense segment of a circle, which +began in New Jersey, ran across Westchester County in New York +province, and passed through a corner of Connecticut to Long Island +Sound. On our side, we occupied Staten Island, part of the New Jersey +shore, our own island, lower Westchester County, and that portion of +Long Island nearest New York. But meanwhile, the rebel main army was +in New Jersey in the Winter of 1776-77, surprising some of our +Hessians at Trenton, overcoming a British force at Princeton, and +going into quarters at Morristown. And in the next year, Sir William +Howe having sailed to take Philadelphia with most of the king's +regulars (leaving General Clinton to hold New York with some royal +troops and us loyalists), the fighting was around the rebel capital, +which the British, after two victories, held during the Winter of +1777-78, while Washington camped at Valley Forge. + +In the Fall of 1777, we thought we might have news of Winwood, for in +the Northern rebel army to which General Burgoyne then capitulated, +there were not only many New York troops, but moreover several of the +officers taken at Quebec, who had been exchanged when Philip had. But +of him we heard nothing, and from him it was not likely that we should +hear. Margaret never mentioned him now, and seemed to have forgotten +that she possessed a husband. Her interest was mainly in the British +officers still left in New York, and her impatience was for the return +of the larger number that had gone to Philadelphia. To this impatience +an end was put in the Summer of 1778, when the main army marched back +to us across New Jersey, followed part way by the rebels, and fighting +with them at Monmouth Court House. 'Twas upon this that the lines I +have mentioned, of British outposts protecting New York, and rebel +forces surrounding us on all sides but that of the sea, were +established in their most complete shape; and that the reciprocal +forays became most frequent. + +And now, too, the British occupation of New York assumed its greatest +proportions. The kinds of festivity in which Margaret so brilliantly +shone, lent to the town the continual gaiety in which she so keenly +delighted. The loyalist families exerted themselves to protect the +king's officers from dulness, and the king's officers, in their own +endeavours to the same end, helped perforce to banish dulness from the +lives of their entertainers. 'Twas a gay town, indeed, for some folk, +despite the vast ugly blotches wrought upon its surface by two great +fires since the war had come, and despite the scarcity of provisions +and the other inconveniences of a virtual state of siege. Tom and I +saw much of that gaiety, for indeed at that time our duties were not +as active as we wished they might be, and they left us leisure enough +to spend in the town. But we were pale candles to the European +officers--the rattling, swearing, insolent English, the tall and +haughty Scots, the courtly Hessians and Brunswickers. + +"What, sister, have we grown invisible, Bert and I?" said Tom to +Margaret, as we met her in the hall one night, after we had returned +from a ball in the Assembly Rooms. "Three times we bowed to you this +evening, and got never a glance in return." + +"'Faith," says she, with a smile, "one can't see these green uniforms +for the scarlet ones!" + +"Ay," he retorted, with less good-humour than she had shown, "the +scarlet coats blind some people's eyes, I think, to other things than +green uniforms." + +It was, I fancy, because Tom had from childhood adored her so much, +that he now took her conduct so ill, and showed upon occasion a +bitterness that he never manifested over any other subject. + +"What do you mean, you saucy boy?" cried she, turning red, and looking +mighty handsome. "You might take a lesson or two in manners from some +of the scarlet coats!" + +"Egad, they wouldn't find time to give me lessons, being so busy with +you! But which of your teachers do you recommend--Captain Andre, Lord +Rawdon, Colonel Campbell, or the two Germans whose names I can't +pronounce? By George, you won't be happy till you have Sir Henry +Clinton and General Knyphausen disputing for the front place at your +feet!" + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY."] + +She softened from anger to a little laugh of conscious triumph, tapped +him with her fan, and sped up the stairs. Her prediction had come +true. She was indeed the toast of the army. Her mother apparently saw +no scandal in this, being blinded by her own partiality to the royal +side. Her father knew it not, for he rarely attended the British +festivities, from which he could not in reason debar his wife and +daughters. Fanny was too innocent to see harm in what her sister did. +But Tom and I, though we never spoke of it to each other, were made +sensitive, by our friendship for Philip, to the impropriety of the +situation--that the wife of an absent American officer should reign as +a beauty among his military enemies. I make no doubt but the +circumstance was commented upon, with satirical smiles at the expense +of both husband and wife, by the British officers themselves. Indeed I +once heard her name mentioned, not as Mrs. Winwood, but as "Captain +Winwood's wife," with an expression of voice that made me burn to +plant my fist in the leering face of the fellow who spoke--some +low-born dog, I'll warrant, who had paid high for his commission. + +It was a custom of Tom's and mine to put ourselves, when off duty +together, in the way of more active service than properly fell to us, +by taking horse and riding to the eastern side of the Harlem River, +where was quartered the troop of Tom's relation, James De Lancey. In +more than one of the wild forays of these horsemen, did we take an +unauthorised part, and find it a very exhilarating business. + +One cold December afternoon in 1778, we got private word from Captain +De Lancey that he was for a raid up the Albany road, that night, in +retaliation for a recent severe onslaught made upon our Hessian post +near Colonel Van Cortlandt's mansion, either ('twas thought) by Lee's +Virginia Light Horse or by the partisan troop under the French +nobleman known in the rebel service as Armand. + +At nightfall we were on the gallop with De Lancey's men, striking the +sparks from the stony road under a cloudy sky. But these troops, +accustomed to darkness and familiar with the country, found the night +not too black for their purpose, which was, first, the seizing of some +cattle that two or three Whig farmers had contrived to retain +possession of, and, second, the surprising of a small advanced post +designed to protect rebel foragers. The first object was fairly well +accomplished, and a detail of men assigned to conduct the prizes back +to Kingsbridge forthwith, a difficult task for which those upon whom +it fell cursed their luck, or their commander's orders, under their +breath. One of the farmers, for stubbornly resisting, was left tied to +a tree before his swiftly dismantled house, and only Captain De +Lancey's fear of alarming the rebel outpost prevented the burning down +of the poor fellow's barn. + +The taking of these cattle had necessitated our leaving the highway. +To this we now returned, and proceeded Northward to where the road +crosses the Neperan River, near the Philipse manor-house. Instead of +crossing this stream, we turned to the right, to follow its left bank +some way upward, and then ascended the hill East of it, on which the +rebel post was established. Our course, soon after leaving the road, +lay through woods, the margin of the little river affording us only +sufficient clear space for proceeding in single file. De Lancey rode +at the head, then went two of his men, then Tom Faringfield and +myself, the troop stringing out behind us, the lieutenant being at the +rear. + +'Twas slow and toilsome riding; and only the devil's own luck, or some +marvellous instinct of our horses, spared us many a stumble over +roots, stones, twigs, and underbrush. What faint light the night +retained for well-accustomed eyes, had its source in the +cloud-curtained moon, and that being South of us, we were hidden in +the shadow of the woods. But 'tis a thousand wonders the noise of our +passage was not sooner heard, though De Lancey's stern command for +silence left no sound possible from us except that of our horses and +equipments. I fancy 'twas the loud murmur of the stream that shielded +us. But at last, as we approached the turning of the water, where we +were to dismount, surround the rebels hutted upon the hill before us, +creep silently upon them, and attack from all sides at a signal, there +was a voice drawled out of the darkness ahead of us the challenge: + +"Who goes thar?" + +We heard the click of the sentinel's musket-lock; whereupon Captain De +Lancey, in hope of gaining the time to seize him ere he could give the +alarm, replied, "Friends," and kept riding on. + +"You're a liar, Jim De Lancey!" cried back the sentinel, and fired his +piece, and then (as our ears told us) fled through the woods, up the +hill, toward his comrades. + +There was now nothing for us but to abandon all thought of surrounding +the enemy, or even, we told ourselves, of taking time to dismount and +bestow our horses; unless we were willing to lose the advantage of a +surprise at least partial, as we were not. We could but charge on +horseback up the hill, after the fleeing sentinel, in hope of coming +upon the rebels but half-prepared. Or rather, as we then felt, so we +chose to think, foolish as the opinion was. Indeed what could have +been more foolish, less military, more like a tale of fabulous knights +in some enchanted forest? A cavalry charge, with no sort of regular +formation, up a wooded hill, in a night dark enough in the open but +sheer black under the thick boughs; to meet an encamped enemy at the +top! But James De Lancey's men were noted rather for reckless dash +than for military prudence; they felt best on horseback, and would +accept a score of ill chances and fight in the saddle, rather than a +dozen advantages and go afoot. I think they were not displeased at +their discovery by the sentinel, which gave them an excuse for a +harebrained onset ahorse, in place of the tedious manoeuvre afoot that +had been planned. As for Tom and me, we were at the age when a man +will dare the impossible. + +So we went, trusting to the sense of our beasts, or to dumb luck, to +carry us unimpeded through the black woods. As it was, a few of the +animals ran headforemost against trees, and others stumbled over roots +and logs, while some of the riders had their heads knocked nearly off +by coming in contact with low branches. But a majority of us, to judge +by the noise we made, arrived with our snorting, panting steeds at the +hill-crest; where, in a cleared space, and fortified with felled +trees, upheaved earth, forage carts, and what not, stood the +improvised cabins of the rebels. + +Three or four shots greeted us as we emerged from the thick wood. We, +being armed with muskets and pistols as well as swords, returned the +fire, and spurred our horses on toward the low breastwork, which, as +it was not likely to have anything of a trench behind it, we thought +to overleap either on horse or afoot. But the fire that we met, almost +at the very barrier, felled so many of our horses and men, raised such +a hellish chorus of wild neighing, cries of pain and wrath, ferocious +curses and shouts of vengeance, that the men behind reined up +uncertain. De Lancey turned upon his horse, waved his sword, and +shouted for the laggards to come on. We had only the light of musketry +to see by. Tom Faringfield was unhorsed and down; and fearing he might +be wounded, I leaped to the ground, knelt, and partly raised him. He +was unharmed, however; and we both got upon our feet, with our swords +out, our discharged muskets slung round upon our backs, our intent +being to mount over the rebel's rude rampart--for we had got an +impression of De Lancey's sword pointed that way while he fiercely +called upon his troops to disregard the fallen, and each man charge +for himself in any manner possible, ahorse or afoot. + +But more and more of the awakened rebels--we could make out only their +dark figures--sprang forward from their huts (mere roofs, 'twere +better to call these) to the breastwork, each waiting to take careful +aim at our mixed-up mass of men and horses before he fired into it. As +Tom and I were extricating ourselves from the mass by scrambling over +a groaning man or two, and a shrieking, kicking horse that lay on its +side, De Lancey rode back to enforce his commands upon the men at our +rear, some of whom were firing over our heads. His turning was +mistaken for a movement of retreat, not only by our men, of whom the +unhurt promptly made to hasten down the hill, but also by the enemy, a +few of whom now leaped from behind their defence to pursue. + +Tom and I, not yet sensible of the action of our comrades, were +striding forward to mount the rampart, when this sally of rebels +occurred. Though it appalled us at the time, coming so unexpectedly, +it was the saving of us; for it stopped the fire of the rebels +remaining behind the barrier, lest they should hit their comrades. A +ringing voice, more potent than a bugle, now called upon these latter +to come back, in a tone showing their movement to have been without +orders. They speedily obeyed; all save one, a tall, broad +fellow--nothing but a great black figure in the night, to our +sight--who had rushed with a clubbed musket straight upon Tom and me. +A vague sense of it circling through the air, rather than distinct +sight of it, told me that his musket-butt was aimed at Tom's head. +Instinctively I flung up my sword to ward off the blow; and though of +course I could not stop its descent, I so disturbed its direction that +it struck only Tom's shoulder; none the less sending him to the ground +with a groan. With a curse, I swung my sword--a cut-and-thrust +blade-of-all-work, so to speak--with some wild idea of slicing off a +part of the rebel's head; but my weapon was hacked where it met him, +and so it merely made him reel and drop his musket. The darkness +falling the blacker after the glare of the firing, must have cloaked +these doings from the other rebels. Tom rose, and the two of us fell +upon our enemy at once, I hissing out the words, "Call for quarter, +you dog!" + +"Very well," he said faintly, quite docile from having had his senses +knocked out of him by my blow, and not knowing at all what was going +on. + +"Come then," said I, and grasped him by an arm, while Tom held him at +the other side; and so the three of us ran after De Lancey and his +men--for the captain had followed in vain attempt to rally them--into +the woods and down the hill. Tom's horse was shot, and mine had fled. + +Our prisoner accompanied us with the unquestioning obedience of one +whose wits are for the time upon a vacation. Getting into the current +of retreat, which consisted of mounted men, men on foot, riderless +horses, and the wrathful captain whose enterprise was now quite +hopeless through the enemy's being well warned against a second +attempt, we at last reached the main road. + +Here, out of a chaotic huddle, order was formed, and to the men left +horseless, mounts were given behind other men. Captain De Lancey +assigned a beast to myself and my prisoner. The big rebel clambered up +behind me, with the absent-minded acquiescence he had displayed ever +since my stroke had put his wits asleep. As we started dejectedly +Southward, full of bruises, aches, and weariness, there was some +question whether the rebels would pursue us. + +"Not if their officer has an ounce of sense," said Captain De Lancey, +"being without horses, as he is. He's scarce like to play the fool by +coming down, as I did in charging up! Well, we've left some wounded to +his care. Who is their commander? Ask your prisoner, Lieutenant +Russell." + +I turned on my saddle and put the query, but my man vouchsafed merely +a stupid, "Hey?" + +"Shake him back to his senses," said De Lancey, stopping his horse, as +I did mine, and Tom his. + +But shaking did not suffice. + +"This infernal darkness helps to cloud his wits," suggested the +captain. "Flash a light before his eyes. Here, Tippet, your lantern, +please." + +I continued shaking the prisoner, while the lantern was brought. +Suddenly the man gave a start, looked around into the black night, and +inquired in a husky, small voice: + +"Who are you? Where are we?" + +"We are your captors," said I, "and upon the Hudson River road, bound +for Kingsbridge. And now, sir, who are you?" + +But the rays of the lantern, falling that instant upon his face, +answered my question for me. + +"Cornelius!" I cried. + +"What, sir? Why--'tis Mr. Russell!" + +"Ay, and here is Tom Faringfield," said I. + +"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed the pedagogue, grasping the hand that +Tom held to him out of the darkness. + +"Mr. Cornelius, since that is your name," put in De Lancey, to whom +time was precious. "Will you please tell us who commands yonder, where +we got the reception our folly deserved, awhile ago?" + +"Certainly, sir," said Cornelius. "'Tis no harm, I suppose--no +violation of duty or custom?" + +"Not in the least," said I. + +"Why then, sir," says he, "since yesterday, when we relieved the +infantry there--we are dragoons, sir, though dismounted for this +particular service--a new independent troop, sir--Winwood's Horse--" + +"Winwood's!" cried I. + +"Ay, Captain Winwood's--Mr. Philip, you know--'tis he commands our +post yonder." + +"Oh, indeed!" said De Lancey, carelessly. "A relation of mine by +marriage." + +But for a time I had nothing to say, thinking how, after these years +of separation, Philip and I had come so near meeting in the night, and +known it not; and how, but for the turn of things, one of us might +have given the other his death-blow unwittingly in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_Philip's Adventures--Captain Falconer Comes to Town._ + + +Upon the way back to our lines, we were entertained by Mr. Cornelius +with an account of Philip's movements during the past three years. One +piece of information interested Captain De Lancey: the recent attack +upon Van Wrumb's Hessians, which it had been our purpose that night to +revenge, was the work of Winwood's troop of horse. Our curiosity upon +hearing of Philip as a captain of independent cavalry, who had left us +as a lieutenant of New York foot, was satisfied in the course of the +pedagogue's narrative. The tutor himself had received promotion upon +two sides: first, to the Presbyterian ministry, his admission thereto +having occurred while he was with the rebel army near Morristown, New +Jersey, the last previous Winter but one; second, to the chaplaincy of +Winwood's troop. + +"Sure the devil's in it," said I, when he had told me this, "if the +rebels' praying men are as sanguinary as you showed yourself +to-night--leaping out to pursue your beaten enemy, as you did." + +"Why," he replied, self-reproachfully, in his mildest voice, "I find, +do what I can, I have at bottom a combative spirit that will rise upon +occasion. I had thought 'twas long since quelled. But I fear no man is +always and altogether his own master. I saw even General Washington, +at Monmouth--but no matter for that. Especially of late, I have found +my demon of wrath--to speak figuratively--too much for me. 'Twas too +violently roused, maybe, that night your General Grey and his men fell +upon us as we slept, yonder across the Hudson, and slaughtered us like +sheep in the barn we lay in." + +"Why, were you in that too?" I asked, surprised. "I thought that troop +was called Lady Washington's Light Horse."[3] + +"Ay, we were then of that troop, Captain Winwood and I. 'Twas for his +conduct in that affair, his valour and skill in saving the remnant of +the troop, that he was put, t'other day, in command of an independent +company. I may take some pride in having helped him to this honour; +for his work the night General Grey surprised us was done so quietly, +and his report made so little of his own share in the business, +'twould have gone unrecognised, but for my account of it. Though, to +be sure, General Washington said afterward, in my hearing, that such +bravery and sagacity, coupled with such modesty, were only what he +might expect of Captain Winwood." + +Cornelius had shared Philip's fortunes since their departure from New +York. When Winwood fell wounded in the snow, between the two +blockhouses at the foot of the cliff, that night the rebels met defeat +at Quebec, the pedagogue remained to succour him, and so was taken +prisoner with him. He afterward helped nurse him in the French +religious house, in the walled "upper town," to which the rebel +wounded were conveyed. + +Upon the exchange of prisoners, Philip, having suffered a relapse, was +unable to accompany his comrades homeward, and Cornelius stayed to +care for him. There was a Scotchwoman who lived upon a farm a few +miles West of Quebec, and whose husband was serving on our side as one +of Colonel Maclean's Royal Highlanders. She took Winwood and the +pedagogue into her house as guests, trusting them till some uncertain +time in the future might find them able to pay. + +When at last Philip dared hazard the journey, the rebel siege of +Quebec, which had continued in a half-hearted manner until Spring +brought British reinforcements up the river in ship-loads, had long +been raised, and the rebels had long since flown. Provided by Governor +Carleton with the passports to which in their situation they were +entitled, the two started for New York, bound by way of the St. +Lawrence, the Richelieu, the lakes, and the Hudson. It was now Winter, +and only Winwood's impatience to resume service could have tempted +them to such a journey in that season. + +They came part way afoot, receiving guidance now from some solitary +fur-capped _courier du bois_ clad in skins and hoofed with snow-shoes, +now from some peaceful Indian, now from the cowled brothers of, some +forest monastery which gave them a night's shelter also. Portions of +the journey they made upon sledges driven by poor _habitans_ dwelling +in the far-apart villages or solitary farmhouses. At other times they +profited by boats and canoes, propelled up the St. Lawrence by French +peasants, befringed hunters, or friendly red men. Their entertainment +and housing were sometimes from such people as I have mentioned; +sometimes of their own contriving, the woods furnishing game for food, +fagots for fuel, and boughs for roof and bedding. + +They encountered no danger from human foes until they were in the +province of New York, and, having left the lakes behind them, were +footing it Southward along the now frozen Hudson. The Indians in +Northern New York had been won to our interest, by Sir John Johnson, +of Johnson Hall, in the Mohawk Valley, and were more than formerly +inclined to vigilance regarding travellers in those lonely regions. +Upon waking suddenly one night when camped in the woods, Philip saw by +the firelight that he was surrounded by a party of silent savages; his +sword and pistol, and Cornelius's rifle, being already in their +possession. The two soldiers were held as prisoners for several days, +and made to accompany their captors upon long, mysterious +peregrinations. At last they were brought before Sir John Johnson, at +one of his forts; and that gentleman, respecting Governor Carleton's +passes, and the fact that Captain Winwood was related by marriage to +the De Lanceys, sent them with a guide to Albany. + +Here they reported to General Schuyler; and Philip, having learned by +the experience of his journey that his wound left him incapacitated +for arduous service afoot, desired an arrangement by which he might +join the cavalry branch of the army. Mr. Schuyler was pleased to put +the matter through for him, and to send him to Morristown, New Jersey, +(where the rebel main force was then in Winter quarters) with a +commendatory letter to General Washington. Cornelius, whose time of +service had expired, was free to accompany him. + +Philip, being enrolled, without loss of nominal rank, in Lady +Washington's Light Horse, which Cornelius entered as a trooper, had now +the happiness of serving near the person of the commander-in-chief. He +was wounded again at the Brandywine, upon which occasion Cornelius +bore him off the field without their being captured. During the Winter +at Valley Forge, and at the battle of Monmouth, and in the recent +partisan warfare on both sides of the Hudson, their experiences were +those of Washington's army as a whole, of which there are histories +enough extant: until their troop was cut to pieces by Earl Grey, and +Captain Winwood was advanced to an independent command. This was but a +recent event. + +"And did he never think of us in New York," said Tom, "that he sent us +no word in all this time?" + +"Sure, you must thank your British occupation of New York, if you +received none of our messages. General Washington allowed them to +pass." + +"Ay, 'tis not easy for rebels to communicate with their friends in New +York," quoth I, "despite the traffic of goods between the Whig country +folk and some of our people, that Captain De Lancey knows about." + +"Tut, man!" said De Lancey. "Some things must be winked at; we need +their farm stuff as much as they want our tea and such. But +correspondence from rebels must go to headquarters--where 'tis like to +stop, when it's for a family whose head is of Mr. Faringfield's way of +thinking." + +"Well," said Mr. Cornelius, "Captain Winwood and I have discussed more +than one plan by which he might perchance get sight of his people for +a minute or so. He has hoped he might be sent into New York under a +flag of truce, upon some negotiation or other, and might obtain +permission from your general to see his wife while there; but he has +always been required otherwise when messengers were to be sent. He has +even thought of offering to enter the town clandestinely--" + +"Hush!" I interrupted. "You are indiscreet. We are soldiers of the +king, remember. But, to be sure, 'tis nonsense; Phil would not be such +a fool as to risk hanging." + +"Oh, to be sure; nonsense, indeed!" Cornelius stammered, much upset at +the imprudence due to his thoughtlessness. "And yet," he resumed +presently, "never did a man more crave a sight of those he left +behind. He would barter a year of his life, I think, for a minute's +speech with his wife. He talks of her by the hour, when he and I are +alone together. There was some coolness, you will remember, before +their parting; but 'twas not on his side, and his lady seemed to have +dropped it when he was taking leave of her; and three years of absence +have gone since then. So I am sure she has softened quite, and that +she desires his return as much as he longs for her presence. And +though he knows all this must be so, he keeps me ever reassuring and +persuading him it is. Ah, sir, if ever there was a man in love with +his wife!" + +I made no reply. I had previously informed him of her good health, in +answer to a question whose eagerness came of his friendship for +Philip. I asked myself whether his unsuspecting mind was like to +perceive aught that would pain him for Philip's sake, in her +abandonment to the gaieties of the town, to the attentions of the +king's officers, to the business of making herself twice as charming +as the pedagogue had ever seen her. + +We got it arranged that our prisoner should be put on parole and +quartered at Mr. Faringfield's house, where his welcome was indeed a +glad one. When Margaret heard of his presence in the town, she gave a +momentary start (it seemed to me a start of self-accusation) and paled +a little; but she composed herself, and asked in a sweet and gracious +(not an eager) tone: + +"And Philip?" + +I told her all I had learned from Cornelius, to which she listened +with a kindly heedfulness, only sometimes pressing her white teeth +upon her lower lip, and other times dropping her lustrous eyes from my +purposely steady, and perhaps reproachful, gaze. + +"So then," said she, as if to be gay at the expense of her husband's +long absence, "now that three years and more have brought him so near +us, maybe another three years or so will bring him back to us!" 'Twas +affected gaiety, one could easily see. Her real feeling must have been +of annoyance that any news of her husband should be obtruded upon her. +She had entered into a way of life that involved forgetfulness of him, +and for which she must reproach herself whenever she thought of him, +but which was too pleasant for her to abandon. But she had the virtue +to be ashamed that reminders of his existence were unwelcome, and +consequently to pretend that she took them amiably; and yet she had +not the hypocrisy to pretend the eager solicitude which a devoted wife +would evince upon receiving news of her long-absent soldier-husband. +Such hypocrisy, indeed, would have appeared ridiculous in a wife who +had scarce mentioned her husband's name, and then only when others +spoke of him, in three years. Yet her very self-reproach for +disregarding him--did it not show that, under all the feelings that +held her to a life of gay coquetry, lay her love for Philip, not dead, +nor always sleeping? + +When Cornelius came to the house to live, she met him with a warm +clasp of the hand, and with a smile of so much radiance and sweetness, +that for a time he must have been proud of her on Phil's behalf; and +so dazzled that he could not yet see those things for which, on the +same behalf, he must needs be sorrowful. + +Knowing now exactly where Philip was, we were able to send him speedy +news of Cornelius's safety, and of the good health and good wishes of +us all; and we got in reply a message full of thanks and of +affectionate solicitude. The transfer of his troop to New Jersey soon +removed the possibility of my meeting him. + +In the following Summer (that of 1779), as I afterward learned, +Captain Winwood and some of his men accompanied Major Lee's famous +dragoons (dismounted for the occasion) to the nocturnal surprise and +capture of our post at Paulus Hook, in New Jersey, opposite New York. +But he found no way of getting into the town to see us. And so I bring +him to the Winter of 1779, when the main rebel camp was again at +Morristown, and Philip stationed near Washington's headquarters. But +meanwhile, in New York, in the previous Autumn some additional British +troops had arrived from England; and one of these was Captain +Falconer. + +There was a ball one night at Captain Morris's country-house some +eight or ten miles North of the town, which the rebel authorities had +already declared confiscate, if I remember aright, but which, as it +was upon the island of Manhattan and within our lines, yet remained in +actual possession of the rightful owner. Here Washington (said to have +been an unsuccessful suitor to Mrs. Morris when she was Miss Philipse) +had quartered ere the British chased the rebels from the island of +Manhattan; and here now were officers of our own in residence. 'Twas a +fine, white house, distinguished by the noble columns of its Grecian +front; from its height it overlooked the Hudson, the Harlem, the East +River, the Sound, and miles upon miles of undulating land on every +side.[4] + +On this night the lights showed welcome from its many windows, open +doors, and balconies, and from the coloured paper lanterns festooned +upon its facade and strung aloft over its splendid lawn and gardens. +The house still stands, I hear, and is known as the Jumel Mansion, +from the widow who lives there. But I'll warrant it presents no more +such scenes as it offered that night, when the wealth and beauty of +New York, the chivalry of the king's army, arrived at its broad +pillared entrance by horse and by coach in a constant procession. In +the great hall, and the adjacent rooms, the rays of countless candles +fell upon brilliant uniforms, upon silk and velvet and brocade and +broadcloth, upon powdered hair, and fans and furbelows, upon white +necks and bosoms, and dazzling eyes, upon jewels and golden buckles +and shining sword-hilts. + +We that entered from the Faringfield coach were Mrs. Faringfield and +my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Tom and myself. We had just received +the greeting of our handsome hostess, and were passing up the hall, +when my eyes alighted upon the figure of an officer who stood alone, +in an attitude of pensive negligence, beside the mantelpiece. He was +fully six feet tall, but possessed a carriage of grace and elegance, +instead of the rigid erectness of so many of his comrades. He had a +slender, finely cut, English face, a long but delicate chin, gray eyes +of a beautiful clearness, slightly wavy hair that was now powdered, +and the hands and legs of a gentleman. + +"What a handsome fellow! Who is he?" whispered Margaret to Fanny. + +I glanced at her. Her eyes showed admiration--an expression I had +never before seen in them. I looked back at the officer. He in turn +had seen her. His face, from having worn a look half melancholy, half +languid, had speedily become animated with interest. 'Twas as if each +of these two superb creatures had unexpectedly fallen upon something +they had scarce hoped to find in their present environment. + +"A mighty pretty gentleman, indeed," said my mother. + +"Nay," said Margaret, with a swift relapse into indifference, "no such +Adonis neither, on second view." + +But I saw that she turned the corner of her eye upon him at intervals +as she moved forward, and that she was not sorry or annoyed to find +that he kept his gaze boldly upon her all the while. Presently he +looked about him, and singled out an acquaintance, to whom he made his +way. Five minutes later he was being introduced, as Captain Falconer, +to Mrs. Winwood. + +"'Faith," said he, in a courteous, subdued voice, after bowing very +low, "I did not think to find a lady so recently from St. James', in +this place. One might swear, looking at you, madam, that this was +Almack's." + +"Sir, you speak to one that never saw St. James' but in imagination," +said Margaret, coolly. "Sure one can be white, and moderately civil, +and yet be of New York." + +"The deuce, madam! A native? You?" + +"Ay, sir, of the aborigines; the daughter of a red Indian!" + +"'Fore God, then, 'tis no wonder the American colonists make war upon +the Indian race. Their wives and daughters urge 'em to it, out of +jealousy of the red men's daughters." + +"Why, if they wished the red ladies exterminated, they couldn't do +better than send a number of king's officers among 'em--famous +lady-killers, I've heard." + +"Madam, I know naught of that; nor of the art of lady-killing itself, +which I never desired to possess until this evening." + +The captain's eyes, so languid with melancholy or ennui a short while +before, now had the glow of pre-determined conquest; his face shone +with that resolve; and by this transformation, as well as by the +inconsistency of his countenance with the soft tone and playful matter +of his words, which inconsistency betrayed the gentleness to be +assumed, I read the man through once for all: selfish, resolute, +facile, versatile, able to act any part thoroughly and in a moment, +constant to his object till it was won, then quick to leave it for +another; unscrupulous, usually invincible, confident of his proven +powers rather than vain of fancied ones; good-natured when not +crossed, and with an irresistible charm of person and manner. And +Margaret too--there was more and other meaning in her looks than in +her light, ironical speeches. + +He led her through two minuets that night, and was her partner in the +Virginia reel (the name the Americans give the Sir Roger de Coverly); +and his was the last face we saw at our coach window as we started +homeward. + +"You've made the rest of the army quite jealous of this new captain," +growled Tom, as we rolled Southward over the stony Harlem road. "The +way Major Tarleton glared at him, would have set another man +trembling." + +"Captain Falconer doesn't tremble so easily, I fancy," said Margaret. +"And yet he's no marvel of a man, as I can see." + +Tom gave a sarcastic grunt. His manifestations regarding Margaret's +behaviour were the only exception to the kind, cheerful conduct of his +whole life. A younger brother is not ordinarily so watchful of a +sister's demeanour; he has the doings of other young ladies to concern +himself with. Tom did not lack these, but he was none the less keenly +sensitive upon the point of Margaret's propriety and good name. 'Twas +the extraordinary love and pride he had centred upon her, that made +him so observant and so touchy in the case. He brooded upon her +actions, worried himself with conjectures, underwent such torments as +jealous lovers know, such pangs as Hamlet felt in his uncertainty +regarding the integrity of his mother. + +Within a week after the Morris ball, it came to pass that Captain +Falconer was quartered, by regular orders, in the house of Mr. +Faringfield. Tom and I, though we only looked our thoughts, saw more +than accident in this. The officer occupied the large parlour, which +he divided by curtains into two apartments, sitting-room and +sleeping-chamber. By his courtesy and vivacity, he speedily won the +regard of the family, even of Mr. Faringfield and the Rev. Mr. +Cornelius. + +"Damn the fellow!" said Tom to me. "I can't help liking him." + +"Nor I, either," was my reply; but I also damned him in my turn. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_A Fine Project._ + + +Were it my own history that I am here undertaking, I should give at +this place an account of my first duel, which was fought with swords, +in Bayard's Woods, my opponent being an English lieutenant of foot, +from whom I had suffered a display of that superciliousness which our +provincial troops had so resented in the British regulars in the old +French War. By good luck I disarmed the man without our receiving more +than a small scratch apiece; and subsequently brought him to the +humbleness of a fawning spaniel, by a mien and tone of half-threatening +superiority which never fail of reducing such high-talking sparks to +abject meekness. 'Twas a trick of pretended bullying, which we +long-suffering Americans were driven to adopt in self-defence against +certain derisive, contemptuous praters that came to our shores from +Europe. But 'tis more to my purpose, as the biographer of Philip +Winwood, to continue upon the subject of Captain Falconer. + +He was the mirror of elegance, with none of the exaggerations of a +fop. He brought with him to the Queen Street house the atmosphere of +Bond Street and Pall Mall, the perfume of Almack's and the assembly +rooms, the air of White's and the clubs, the odour of the chocolate +houses and the fashionable taverns. 'Twas all that he represented, I +fancy, rather than what the man himself was, and conquering as he was, +that caught Margaret's eye. He typified the world before which she had +hoped to shine, and from which she had been debarred--cruelly +debarred, it may have seemed to her. I did not see this then; 'twas +another, one of a broader way of viewing things, one of a less partial +imagination--'twas Philip Winwood--that found this excuse for her. + +Captain Falconer had the perception soon to gauge correctly us who +were of American rearing, and the tact to cast aside the lofty manner +by which so many of his stupid comrades estranged us. He treated Tom +and me with an easy but always courteous familiarity that surprised, +flattered, and won us. He would play cards with us, in his +sitting-room, as if rather for the sake of our company than for the +pleasure of the game. Indeed, as he often frankly confessed, gambling +was no passion with him; and this was remarkable at a time when 'twas +the only passion most fine young gentlemen would acknowledge as +genuine in them, and when those who did not feel that passion affected +it. We admired this fine disdain on his part for the common +fashionable occupation of the age (for the pursuit of women was +pretended to be followed as a necessary pastime, but without much real +heart) as evidence of a superior mind. Yet he played with us, losing +at first, but eventually winning until I had to withdraw. Tom, having +more money to lose, held out longer. + +"Why now," said the captain once, regarding his winnings with a face +of perfect ruefulness, "'tis proven that what we seek eludes us, and +what we don't value comes to us! Here am I, the last man in the world +to court success this way, and here am I more winner than if I had +played with care and attention." + +Tom once mentioned, to another officer, Captain Falconer's luck at +cards as an instance of fortune befriending one who despised her +favours in that way. + +"Blood, sir!" exclaimed the officer. "Jack Falconer may have a mind +and taste above gaming as a pleasure, for aught I know. But I would I +had his skill with the cards. 'Tis no pastime with him, but a +livelihood. Don't you know the man is as poor as a church-mouse, but +for what he gets upon the green table?" + +This revelation a little dampened our esteem for the captain's +elevation of intellect, but I'll take my oath of it, he was really +above gaming as a way of entertaining his mind, however he resorted to +it as a means of filling his purse. + +Of course Tom's friendly association with him was before there was +sure cause to suspect his intentions regarding Margaret. His manner +toward her was the model of proper civility. He was a hundred times +more amiable and jocular with Fanny, whom he treated with the +half-familiar pleasantry of an elderly man for a child; petting her +with such delicacy as precluded displeasure on either her part or +mine. He pretended great dejection upon learning that her heart was +already engaged; and declared that his only consolation lay in the +fact that the happy possessor of the prize was myself: for which we +both liked him exceedingly. Toward Mrs. Faringfield, too, he used a +chivalrous gallantry as complimentary to her husband as to the lady. +Only between him and Margaret was there the distance of unvaried +formality. + +And yet we ought to have seen how matters stood. For now Margaret, +though she had so little apparent cordiality for the captain, had +ceased to value the admiration of the other officers, and had +substituted a serene indifference for the animated interest she had +formerly shown toward the gaieties of the town. And the captain, too, +we learned, had the reputation of an inveterate conqueror of women; +yet he had exhibited a singular callousness to the charms of the +ladies of New York. He had been three months in the town, and his name +had not been coupled with that of any woman there. We might have +surmised from this a concealed preoccupation. And, moreover, there was +my first reading of his countenance, the night of the Morris ball; +this I had not forgotten, yet I ignored it, or else I shut my eyes to +my inevitable inferences, because I could see no propriety in any +possible interference from me. + +One evening in December there was a drum at Colonel Philipse's town +house, which Margaret did not attend. She had mentioned, as reason for +absenting herself, a cold caught a few nights previously, through her +bare throat being exposed to a chill wind by the accidental falling of +her cloak as she walked to the coach after Mrs. Colden's rout. As the +evening progressed toward hilarity, I observed that Tom Faringfield +became restless and gloomy. At last he approached me, with a face +strangely white, and whispered: + +"Do you see?--Captain Falconer is not here!" + +"Well, what of that?" quoth I. "Ten to one, he finds these companies +plaguey tiresome." + +"Or finds other company more agreeable," replied Tom, with a very dark +look in his eyes. + +He left me, with no more words upon the subject. When it was time to +go home, and Mrs. Faringfield and Fanny and I sought about the rooms +for him, we found he had already taken his leave. So we three had the +chariot to ourselves, and as we rode I kept my own thoughts upon Tom's +previous departure, and my own vague dread of what might happen. + +But when Noah let us in, all seemed well in the Faringfield house. +Margaret was in the parlour, reading; and she laid down her book to +ask us pleasantly what kind of an evening we had had. She was the only +one of the family up to receive us, Mr. Faringfield having retired +hours ago, and Tom having come in and gone to bed without an +explanation. The absence of light in Captain Falconer's windows +signified that he too had sought his couch, for had he been still out, +his servant would have kept candles lighted for him. + +The next day, as we rode out Northward to our posts, Tom suddenly +broke the silence: + +"Curse it!" said he. "There are more mysteries than one. Do you know +what I found when I got home last night?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"Well, I first looked into the parlour, but no one was there. Instead +of going on to the library, I went up-stairs and knocked at Margaret's +door. I--I wanted to see her a moment. It happened to be unlatched, +and as I knocked rather hard, it swung open. No one was in that room, +either, but I thought she might be in the bedchamber beyond, and so I +crossed to knock at that. But I chanced to look at her writing-table +as I passed; there was a candle burning on it, and devil take me if I +didn't see a letter in a big schoolboy's hand that I couldn't help +knowing at a glance--the hand of my brother Ned!" + +"Then I'll engage the letter wasn't to Margaret. You know how much +love is lost between those two." + +"But it was to her, though! 'Dear M.,' it began--there's no one else +whose name begins with M in the family. And the writing was fresh--not +the least faded. I saw that much before I thought of what I was doing. +But when I remembered 'twasn't my letter, I looked no more." + +"But how could he send a letter from the rebel camp to her in New +York?"[5] + +"Why, that's not the strangest part of it. There's no doubt Washington +has spies in the town, and ways of communicating with the rebel +sympathisers here; I've sometimes thought my father--but no matter for +that. The fact is, there the letter was, as certainly from Ned as I'm +looking at you; and we know he's in the rebel army. But the wonder, +the incredible thing, is that he should write to Margaret." + +"'Tis a mystery, in truth." + +"Well, 'tis none of ours, after all, and of course this will go no +further--but let me tell you, the devil's in it when those two are in +correspondence. There's crookedness of some kind afoot, when such +haters combine together!" + +"You didn't ask her, of course?" + +"No. But I knocked at her chamber door, and getting no answer I went +down-stairs again. This time she was in the parlour. She had been in +the library before, it seemed; 'twas warmer there." + +But, as I narrowly watched the poor lad, I questioned whether he was +really convinced that she had been in the library before. He had said +nothing of Captain Falconer's sitting-room, of which the door was that +of the transformed large parlour, and was directly across the hall +from the Faringfields' ordinary parlour, wherein Tom had first sought +and eventually found her. + +'Twas our practice thus to ride back to our posts when we had been off +duty, although our rank did not allow us to go mounted in the service. +For despite the needs of the army, the Faringfields and I contrived to +retain our horses for private use. All of that family were good +riders, particularly Margaret. She often rode out for a morning's +canter, going alone because it was her will thereto, which was not +opposed, for she had so accustomed us to her aloofness that solitary +excursions seemed in place with her. One day, a little later in that +same December, Tom and I had taken the road by way of General De +Lancey's country mansion at Bloomingdale, rather than our usual +course, which lay past the Murray house of Incledon. As I rode +Northward at a slow walk, some distance ahead of my comrade, I +distinctly heard through a thicket that veiled the road from a little +glade at the right, the voice of Captain Falconer, saying playfully: + +"Nay, how can you doubt me? Would not gratitude alone, for the +reparation of my fortunes, bind me as your slave, if you had not +chains more powerful?" + +And then I caught this answer, in a voice that gave me a start, and +sent the blood into my face--the voice of Margaret: + +"But will those chains hold, if this design upon your gratitude fail?" + +She spoke as in jest, but with a perceptible undercurrent of +earnestness. This was a new attitude for her, and what a revelation to +me! In a flash I saw her infatuation for this fine fellow, some fear +of losing him, a pursuit of some plan by which she might repair his +fortunes and so bind him by obligation. Had Margaret, the invincible, +the disdainful, fallen to so abject a posture? And how long had these +secret meetings been going on? + +There was new-fallen snow upon the road, and this had deadened the +sound of our horses' feet to those beyond the thicket. Tom was not yet +so near as to have heard their voices. I saw the desirability of his +remaining in ignorance for the present, so I uttered a loud "chuck," +and gave a pull at my reins, as if urging my horse to a better gait, +my purpose being to warn the speakers of unseen passers-by ere Tom +should come up. I had not let my horse come to a stop, nor had I +otherwise betrayed my discovery. + +But, to my dread, I presently heard Tom cry sharply, "Whoa!" and, +looking back, saw he had halted at the place where I had heard the +voices. My warning must have failed to hush the speakers. Never shall +I forget the look of startled horror, shame, and anger upon his face. +For a moment he sat motionless; then he turned his horse back to an +opening in the thicket, and rode into the glade. I galloped after him, +to prevent, if possible, some fearful scene. + +When I entered the glade, I saw Margaret and Captain Falconer seated +upon their horses, looking with still fresh astonishment and +discomfiture upon the intruder. Their faces were toward me. Tom had +stopped his horse, and he sat regarding them with what expression I +could not see, being behind him. Apparently no one of the three had +yet spoken. + +Tom glanced at me as I joined the group, and then, in a singularly +restrained voice, he said: + +"Captain Falconer, may I beg leave to be alone with my sister a few +moments? I have something to ask her. If you would ride a little way +off, with Mr. Russell--" + +'Twas, after all, a most natural request. A brother may wish to speak +to his sister in private, and 'tis more fitting to put a gentleman +than a lady to the trouble of an absence. Seeing it thus, and speaking +with recovered composure as if nothing were wrong, the captain +courteously replied: + +"Most certainly. Mr. Russell, after you, sir--nay, no precedence to +rank, while we are simply private gentlemen." + +He bowed low to Margaret, and we two rode out to the highway, there to +pace our horses up and down within call. Of what passed between +brother and sister, I afterward received a close account. + +"I must have a straight answer," Tom began, "for I must not be put to +the folly of acting without cause. Tell me, then, upon your honour, +has there been reason between you and Captain Falconer for me to fight +him? The truth, now! Of course, I shall find another pretext. It looks +a thousand to one, there's reason; but I must be sure." + +"Why, I think you have lost your wits, Tom," said she. "If a gentleman +known to the family happens to meet me when I ride out, and we chance +to talk--" + +"Ay, but in such a private place, and in such familiar tones, when you +scarce ever converse together at home, and then in the most formal +way! Oh, sister, that it should come to this!" + +"I say, you're a fool, Tom! And a spy too--dogging my footsteps! What +right have you to call me to account?" + +"As your brother, of course." + +"My younger brother you are; and too young to understand all you see, +for one thing, or to hold me responsible to you for my actions, for +another." + +"I understand when your honour calls for my actions, however! Your +very anger betrays you. I will kill Falconer!" + +"You'll do nothing of the kind!" + +"You shall see! I know a brother's duties--his rights, by heaven!" + +"A brother has no duties nor rights, concerning a sister who is +married." + +"Then, if not as your brother, I have as your husband's friend. For, +by God, I _am_ Phil's friend, to the death; and while he's not here to +see what's passing, I dare act on his behalf. If I may not have a care +of my sister's honour, I may of Philip Winwood's! And now I'll go to +your captain!" + +"But wait--stay, Tom--a moment, for God's sake! You're mistaken, I +tell you. There's naught against Philip Winwood's honour in my meeting +Captain Falconer. We have conferences, I grant. But 'tis upon a matter +you know nothing of--a matter of the war." + +"What nonsense! To think I should believe that! What affair of the war +could you have to do with? It makes me laugh!" + +"I vow there's an affair I have to do with. What do you know of my +secrets, my planning and plotting? 'Tis an affair for the royal cause, +I'll tell you that much. Nay, I'll tell you all; you won't dare betray +it--you'd be a traitor to the king if you did. You shall be let into +it, you and Bert. Call back Captain Falconer and him." + +Puzzled and incredulous, but glad to test any assertion that might +clear his sister of the suspicion most odious, Tom hallooed for us. +When we re-entered the glade, Margaret spoke ere any one else had time +for a word: + +"Captain Falconer, I think you'll allow me the right to admit these +gentlemen into the secret of our interviews. They are both loyal, both +so dear to me that I'd gladly have them take a part in the honour of +our project--of which, heaven knows, there'll be enough and to spare +if we succeed." + +"Madam," said he, "its chance of success will be all the greater, for +the participation of these gentlemen." + +"Well?" said Tom, looking inquiringly at his sister. + +"You promise your aid, then, both?" she asked. + +"Let us hear it first," he replied. + +She obtained our assurances of secrecy in any event, and proceeded: + +"Everybody knows what this rebellion costs England, in money, men, and +commerce; not to speak of the king's peace of mind, and the feelings +of the nation. Everybody sees it must last well-nigh for ever, if it +doesn't even win in the end! Well, then, think what it would mean for +England, for the king, for America, if the war could be cut short by a +single blow, with no cost; cut short by one night's courage, daring, +and skill, on the part of a handful of men!" + +Tom and I smiled as at one who dreams golden impossibilities. + +"Laugh if you will," said she; "but tell me this: what is the soul of +the rebellion? What is the one vital part its life depends on? The +different rebel provinces hate and mistrust one another--what holds +'em together? The rebel Congress quarrels and plots, and issues money +that isn't worth the dirty paper it's printed on; disturbs its army, +and does no good to any one--what keeps the rebellion afoot in spite +of it? The rebel army complains, and goes hungry and half-naked, and +is full of mutiny and desertion--what still controls it from melting +away entirely? What carries it through such Winters as the rebels had +at Valley Forge, when the Congress, the army, and the people were all +at sixes and sevens and swords' points? What raises money the Lord +knows how, finds supplies the Lord knows where, induces men to stay in +the field, by the Lord knows what means, and has got such renown the +world over that now France is the rebels' ally? I make you stare, +boys; you're not used to seeing me play the orator. I never did +before, and I sha'n't again, for heaven forbid I should be a woman of +that kind! But I've studied this matter, and I hope I have a few ideas +upon it." + +"But what has done all these things you mention? May I ask that?" said +I, both amused and curious. + +"Washington!" was her reply. "Remove him, and this rebellion will +burst like a soap-bubble! And that's the last of my speechmaking. Our +project is to remove Washington--nay, there's no assassination in it. +We'll do better--capture him and send him to England. Once he is in +the Tower awaiting trial, how long do you think the rebellion will +last? And what rewards do you think there'll be for those that sent +him there?" + +"Why," said Tom, "is that a new project? Hasn't the British army been +trying to wipe out Washington's army and take him prisoner these four +years?" + +"But not in the way that we have planned it," replied Margaret, "and +that Captain Falconer shall execute it. Tell them, captain." + +"'Tis very simple, gentlemen," said the English officer. "If the +honour of the execution is to be mine, and the men's whom I shall +lead, the honour of the design, and of securing the necessary +collusion in the rebel camp, is Mrs. Winwood's. My part hitherto has +been, with Sir Henry Clinton's approval, to make up a chosen body of +men from all branches of the army; and my part finally shall be to +lead this select troop on horseback one dark night, by a devious +route, to that part of the rebel lines nearest Washington's quarters; +then, with the cooeperation that this lady has obtained among the +rebels, to make a swift dash upon those quarters, seize Washington +while our presence is scarce yet known, and carry him back to New York +by outriding all pursuit. Boats will be waiting to bring us across the +river. I allow such projects have been tried before, but they have +been defeated through rebel sentries giving the alarm in time. They +lacked one advantage we possess--collusion in the rebel camp--" + +"And 'twas you obtained that collusion?" Tom broke in, turning to +Margaret. "Hang me if I see how you in New York--oh, but I do, though! +Through brother Ned!" + +"You're a marvel at a guess," quoth she. + +"Ay, ay! But how did you carry on your correspondence with him? 'Twas +he, then, originated this scheme?" + +"Oh, no; 'twas no such thing! The credit is all mine, if you please. I +make no doubt, he _would_ have originated it, if he had thought of it. +But a sister's wits are sometimes as good as a brother's--remember +that, Tom. For I had the wit not only to devise this project, but to +know from the first that Ned's reason for joining the rebels was, that +he might profit by betraying them." + +"Ay, we might have known as much, Bert," said Tom. "But we give you +all credit for beating us there, sister." + +"Thank you! But the rascal never saw the way to his ends, I fancy; for +he's still in good repute in the rebel army. And when I began to think +of a way to gain--to gain the honour of aiding the king's cause, you +know, I saw at once that Ned might help me. Much as we disliked each +other, he would work with me in this, for the money 'twould bring him. +And I had 'lighted upon something else, too--quite by chance. A +certain old person I know of has been serving to carry news from a +particular Whig of my acquaintance (and neither of 'em must ever come +to harm, Captain Falconer has sworn) to General Washington." (As was +afterward made sure, 'twas old Bill Meadows, who carried secret word +and money from Mr. Faringfield and other friends of the rebellion.) +"This old person is very much my friend, and will keep my secrets as +well as those of other people. So each time he has gone to the rebel +camp, of late--and how he gets there and back into New York uncaught, +heaven only knows--he has carried a message to brother Ned; and +brought back a reply. Thus while he knowingly serves the rebel cause, +he ignorantly serves ours too, for he has no notion of what my brother +and I correspond about. And so 'tis all arranged. Through Ned we have +learned that the rebel light horse troop under Harry Lee has gone off +upon some long business or other, and, as far as the army knows, may +return to the camp at any time. All that our company under Captain +Falconer has to do, then, is to ride upon a dark night to a place +outside the rebel pickets, where Ned will meet them. How Ned shall +come there unsuspected, is his own affair--he swears 'tis easy. He +will place himself at the head of our troop, and knowing the rebel +passwords for the night, as well as how to speak like one of Major +Lee's officers, he can lead our men past the sentries without alarm. +Our troop will have on the blue greatcoats and the caps the rebel +cavalry wear--General Grey's men took a number of these last year, and +now they come into use. And besides our having all these means of +passing the rebel lines without hindrance, Ned has won over a number +of the rebels themselves, by promising 'em a share of the great reward +the parliament is sure to vote for this business. He has secured some +of the men about headquarters to our interest." + +"What a traitor!" quoth Tom, in a tone of disgust. + +"Why, sure, we can make use of his treason, without being proud of him +as one of the family," said Margaret. "The matter now is, that Captain +Falconer offers you two gentlemen places in the troop he has chosen." + +"The offer comes a little late, sir," said Tom, turning to the +captain. + +"Why, sir," replied Falconer, "I protest I often thought of you two. +But the risk, gentlemen, and your youth, and my dislike of imperilling +my friends--however, take it as you will, I now see I had done better +to enlist you at the first. The point is, to enlist you now. You shall +have your commander's permission; General Clinton gives me my choice +of men. 'Twill be a very small company, gentlemen; the need of silence +and dash requires that. And you two shall come in for honour and pay, +next to myself--that I engage. 'Twill make rich men of us three, at +least, and of your brother, sir; while this lady will find herself the +world's talk, the heroine of the age, the saviour of America, the +glory of England. I can see her hailed in London for this, if it +succeed; praised by princes, toasted by noblemen, envied by the ladies +of fashion and the Court, huzza'd by the people in the streets and +parks when she rides out--" + +"Nay, captain, you see too far ahead," she interrupted, seeming ill at +ease that these things should be said before Tom and me. + +"A strange role, sure, for Captain Winwood's wife," said Tom; "that of +plotter against his commander." + +"Nay," she cried, quickly, "Captain Winwood plays a strange role for +Margaret Faringfield's husband--that of rebel against her king. For +look ye, I had a king before he had a commander. Isn't that what you +might call logic, Tom?" + +"'Tis an unanswerable answer, at least," said Captain Falconer, +smiling gallantly. "But come, gentlemen, shall we have your aid in +this fine adventure?" + +It was a fine adventure, and that was the truth. The underhand work, +the plotting and the treason involved, were none of ours. 'Twas +against Philip Winwood's cause, but our cause was as much to us as his +was to him. The prospect of pay and honour did not much allure us; but +the vision of that silent night ride, that perilous entrance into the +enemy's camp, that swift dash for the person of our greatest foe, that +gallop homeward with a roused rebel cavalry, desperate with +consternation, at our heels, quite supplanted all feelings of slight +in not having been invited earlier. Such an enterprise, for young +fellows like us, there was no staying out of. + +We gave Captain Falconer our hands upon it, whereupon he told us he +would be at the pains to secure our relief from regular duty on the +night set for the adventure--that of the following Wednesday--and +directed us to be ready with our horses at the ferry at six o'clock +Wednesday evening. The rebel cavalry caps and overcoats were to be +taken to the New Jersey side previously, and there put on, this +arrangement serving as precaution against our disguise being seen +within our lines by some possible rebel spy who might thereupon +suspect our purpose and find means of preceding us to the enemy's +camp. + +Tom and I saw the English captain and Margaret take the road toward +the town, whereupon we resumed our ride Northward. I could note the +lad's relief at being able to account for his sister's secret meeting +with Falconer by a reason other than he had feared. + +"By George, though," he broke out presently, "'tis plaguey strange +Margaret should grow so active in loyalty! I never knew her zeal to be +very great for any cause of a public nature. 'Tisn't like her; rabbit +me if it is!" + +"Why," quoth I, "maybe it's for her own purposes, after all--the +reward and the glory. You know the pleasure she takes in shining." + +"Egad, that's true enough!" And Tom's face cleared again. + +Alas, I knew better! Besides the motive I had mentioned, there had +been another to stimulate her wits and industry--the one her words, +overheard by me alone, had betrayed too surely--the desire of +enriching and advancing Captain Falconer. Well, she was not the first +woman, nor has been the last, scheming to pour wealth and honour into +a man's lap, partly out of the mere joy of pleasing him, partly in +hope of binding him by gratitude, partly to make him seem in the +world's eyes the worthier her devotion, and so to lessen her demerit +if that devotion be unlawful. + +"Poor Philip!" thought I. "Poor Philip! And what will be the end of +this?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_Winwood Comes to See His Wife._ + + +'T were scarce possible to exaggerate the eagerness with which +Margaret looked forward to the execution of the great project. Her +anticipations, in the intensity and entirety with which they possessed +her, equalled those with which she had formerly awaited the trip to +England. She was now as oblivious of the festivities arising from the +army's presence, as she had been of the town's tame pleasures on the +former occasion. She showed, to us who had the key to her mind, a +deeper abstraction, a more anxious impatience, a keener foretaste (in +imagination) of the triumphs our success would bring her. Her +favourable expectations, of course, seesawed with fears of failure; +and sometimes there was preserved a balance that afflicted her with a +most irritating uncertainty, revealed by petulant looks and tones. But +by force of will, 'twas mainly in the hope of success that she passed +the few days between our meeting in the glade and the appointed +Wednesday evening. + +"Tut, sister," warned Tom, with kind intention, "don't raise yourself +so high with hope, or you may fall as far with disappointment." + +"Never fear, Tom; we can't fail." + +"It looks all clear and easy, I allow," said he; "but there's many a +slip, remember!" + +"Not two such great slips to the same person," she replied. "I had my +share of disappointment, when I couldn't go to London. This war, and +my stars, owe me a good turn, dear." + +But when, at dusk on Wednesday evening, Tom and I took leave of her in +the hall, she was trembling like a person with a chill. Her eyes +glowed upon us beseechingly, as if she implored our Herculean +endeavours in the attempt now to be made. + +We had to speak softly to one another, lest Mr. Faringfield might hear +and infer some particular enterprise--for we were not to hazard the +slightest adverse chance. Captain Falconer had been away from his +quarters all day, about the business of the night, and would not +return till after its accomplishment. Thus we two were the last to be +seen of her, of those bound to the adventure; and so to us were +visible the feelings with which she regarded the setting forth of our +whole company upon the project she had designed, for which she had +laboriously laid preparations even in the enemy's camp, and from which +she looked for a splendid future. Were it realised, she might defy Mr. +Faringfield and Philip: they would be nobodies, in comparison with +her: heroines belong to the whole world, and may have their choice of +the world's rewards: they may go where they please, love whom they +please, and no father nor husband may say them nay. Though I could not +but be sad, for Philip's sake, at thought of what effect our success +might have upon her, yet for the moment I seemed to view matters from +her side, with her nature, and for that moment I felt that to +disappoint her hopes would be a pity. + +As for myself (and Tom was like me) my cause and duty, not Margaret's +private ambitions, bade me strive my utmost in the business; and my +youthful love of danger sent me forth with a most exquisite thrill, as +into the riskiest, most exhilarating game a man can play. So I too +trembled a little, but with an uplifting, strong-nerved excitement far +different from the anxious tremor of suspense that tortured Margaret. + +"For pity's sake, don't fail, boys!" she said, as if all rested upon +us two. "Think of me waiting at home for the news! Heaven, how slow +the hours will pass! I sha'n't have a moment's rest of mind or body +till I know!" + +"You shall know as soon as we can get back to New York," said I. + +"Ay--if we are able to come back," added Tom, with a queer smile. + +She turned whiter, and new thoughts seemed to sweep into her mind. But +she drove them back. + +"Hush, Tom, we mustn't think of that!" she whispered. "No, no, it +can't come to that! But I shall be a thousand times the more anxious! +Good night!--that's all I shall say--good night and a speedy and safe +return!" + +She caught her brother's head between her hands, bestowed a fervent +kiss upon his forehead, swiftly pressed my fingers, and opened the +door for us. + +We passed out into the dark, frosty evening. There was snow on the +ground but none in the air. We mounted our waiting horses, waved back +a farewell to the white-faced, white-handed figure in the doorway; and +started toward the ferry. Margaret was left alone with her +fast-beating heart, to her ordeal of mingled elation and doubt, her +dread of crushing disappointment, her visions of glorious triumph. + +At the ferry we reported to Captain Falconer, who was expeditiously +sending each rider and horse aboard one of the waiting flat-boats as +soon as each arrived. Thus was avoided the assemblage, for any length +of time, of a special body of horsemen in the streets--for not even +the army, let alone the townspeople, should know more of our setting +forth than could not be hid. The departure of those who were to embark +from the town was managed with exceeding quietness and rapidity. +Captain Falconer and the man who was to guide us to Edward +Faringfield's trysting-place were the last to board. + +Upon rounding the lower end of the town, and crossing the Hudson to +Paulus Hook, which post our troops had reoccupied after the rebel +capture of its former garrison, we went ashore and were joined by men +and horses from up the river, and by others from Staten Island. We +then exchanged our hats for the caps taken from the rebel cavalry, +donned the blue surtouts, and set out; Captain Falconer and the guide +riding at the head. + +For a short distance we kept to the Newark road, but, without +proceeding to that town, we deviated to the right, and made +Northwestwardly, the purpose being to pass through a hiatus in the +semicircle of rebel detached posts, turn the extremity of the main +army, and approach Morristown--where Washington had his +headquarters--from a side whence a British force from New York might +be the less expected. + +Each man of us carried a sword and two pistols, having otherwise no +burden but his clothes. At first we walked our horses, but presently +we put them to a steady, easy gallop. The snow on the ground greatly +muffled the sound of our horses' footfalls, and made our way less +invisible than so dark a night might have allowed. But it made +ourselves also the more likely to be seen; though scarce at a great +distance nor in more than brief glimpses, for the wind raised clouds +of fine snow from the whitened fields, the black growth of tree and +brush along the road served now as curtain for us, now as background +into which our outlines might sink, and a stretch of woods sometimes +swallowed us entirely from sight. Besides, on such a night there would +be few folk outdoors, and if any of these came near, or if we were +seen from farmhouses or village windows, our appearance of rebel horse +would protect our purpose. So, in silence all, following our captain +and his guide, we rode forward to seize the rebel chief, and make +several people's fortunes. + +I must now turn to Philip Winwood, and relate matters of which I was +not a witness, but with which I was subsequently made acquainted in +all minuteness. + +We had had no direct communication with Philip since the time after +our capture of Mr. Cornelius, who, as every exchange of prisoners had +passed him by, still remarked upon parole at Mr. Faringfield's. If Mr. +Faringfield received news of Winwood through his surreptitious +messenger, Bill Meadows, he kept it to himself, naturally making a +secret of his being in correspondence with General Washington. + +Though Philip knew of Meadows's perilous employment, he would not risk +the fellow's discovery even to Margaret, and so refrained from laying +upon him the task of a message to her. How she found out what Meadows +was engaged in, I cannot guess, unless it was that, unheeded in the +house as she was unheeding, she chanced to overhear some talk between +her father and him, or to detect him in the bringing of some letter +which she afterward took the trouble secretly to peep into. Nor did I +ever press to know by what means she had induced him to serve as +messenger between her and Ned, and to keep this service hidden from +her father and husband and all the world. Maybe she pretended a desire +to hear of her husband without his knowing she had so far softened +toward him, and a fear of her father's wrath if he learned she made +Ned her correspondent in the matter. Perhaps she added to her gentler +means of persuasion a veiled threat of exposing Meadows to the British +if he refused. In any event, she knew that, once enlisted, he could be +relied on for the strictest obedience to her wishes. It needed not, in +his case, the additional motive for secrecy, that a knowledge of his +employment on Margaret's business would compromise him with General +Washington and Mr. Faringfield. + +How Meadows contrived to meet Ned, to open the matter to him, to +convey the ensuing correspondence, to avoid discovery upon this matter +in the rebel camp, as he avoided it upon Washington's business in New +York, is beyond me: if it were not, I should be as skilful, as fit for +such work, as Meadows himself. 'Tis well-known now what marvellously +able secret agents Washington made use of; how to each side many of +them had to play the part of spies upon the other side; how they were +regarded with equal suspicion in both camps; and how some of them +really served their enemies in order finally to serve their friends. +More than one of them, indeed, played a double game, receiving pay +from both sides, and earning it from both, each commander conceiving +himself to be the one benefited. In comparison with such duplicity, +the act of Meadows, in undertaking Margaret's private business as a +secret matter adjunctive to his main employment, was honesty itself. + +'Tis thus explained why, though Margaret might communicate with her +brother in the enemy's camp, she got no word from her husband there. +But his thoughts and his wishes had scarce another subject than +herself. The desire to see her, possessed him more and more wholly. He +imagined that her state of mind must in this be a reflection of his +own. Long ago her anger must have died--nay, had it not passed in that +farewell embrace when she held up her face to invite his kiss? The +chastening years of separation, the knowledge of his toils and +dangers, must have wrought upon her heart, to make it more tender to +him than ever. She must grieve at their parting, long for his +home-coming. So convinced was he of such feelings on her part, that he +pitied her for them, felt the start of many a tear in sorrow for her +sorrow. + +"Poor girl!" he thought. "How her face would gladden if I were to walk +into her presence at this moment!" + +And the thought gave birth to the resolution. The joy of such a +meeting was worth a thousand risks and efforts. + +His first step was to get leave of absence and General Washington's +permission to enter New York. The former was quickly obtained, the +latter less so. But if he failed to demonstrate to the commander the +possible profit of his secretly visiting the enemy's town, he +convinced him that the entrance was not too difficult to one who knew +the land so well, and who could so easily find concealment. +Sympathising with Philip's private motive in the case, trusting him +implicitly, and crediting his ability to take care of himself in even +so perilous a matter, Washington finally gave consent. + +Philip rode in proper manner from the rebel camp, bound apparently +Southward, as if perchance he bore despatches to the rebel civil +authorities at Philadelphia. Once out of observation, he concealed his +uniform cap and outer coat, and provided himself at a New Jersey +village with an ordinary felt hat, and a plain dark overcoat. He then +turned from the Southward road, circled widely about the rebel camp, +and arrived at a point some distance north of it. Here, in a +hospitable farmhouse, he passed the night. The next day, he rode +Eastward for the Hudson River, crossing undiscovered the scanty, +ill-patrolled line of rebel outposts, and for the most part refraining +from use of the main roads, deserted as these were. By woods and +by-ways, he proceeded as best the snow-covered state of the country +allowed. 'Twas near dusk on the second day, when he came out upon the +wooded heights that looked coldly down upon the Hudson a few miles +above the spot opposite the town of New York. + +He looked across the river and Southeastward, knowing that beyond the +low hills and the woods lay the town, and that in the town was +Margaret. Then he rode back from the crest of the cliff till he came +to the head of a ravine. Down this he led his beast, arriving finally +at the narrow strip of river-bank at the cliff's foot. He followed +this some distance Southward, still leading the horse. 'Twas not yet +so dark that he could not make out a British sloop-of-war, and further +down the river the less distinct outline of a frigate, serving as +sentinels and protectors of this approach to the town. From these he +was concealed by the bushes that grew at the river's edge. + +At last he turned into the mouth of a second ravine, and, rounding a +sharp side-spur of the interrupted cliff, came upon a log hut built +upon a small level shelf of earth. At one end of this structure was a +pent-roof. Philip tied his horse thereunder, and, noting a kind of dim +glow through the oiled paper that filled the cabin's single window, +gave two double knocks followed by a single one, upon the plank door. +This was soon opened, and Philip admitted to the presence of the +single occupant, an uncouth fellow, fisherman and hunter, whose +acquaintance he had made in patrolling the New Jersey side at the head +of his troop. The man was at heart with the rebels, and Winwood knew +with whom he had to deal. Indeed Philip had laid his plans carefully +for this hazardous visit, in accordance with his knowledge of the +neighbourhood and of what he might rely upon. + +"I wish to borrow one of your canoes, Ellis," said he, "and beg your +attention to my horse, which is in the shed. Be so kind as to give it +feed, and to cover it with a blanket if you have such a thing. But +leave it in the shed, and ready saddled; I may have to ride in a +hurry. I sha'n't need you with me in the canoe--nor any supper, I +thank you, sir." + +For the man, with the taciturn way of his kind, had motioned toward +some pork frying at a fire. With no thought to press, or to question, +he replied: + +"I'll fetch the canoe down the gully, cap'n. You stay here and warm +yourself a minute. And don't worry about your hoss, sir." + +A few minutes later, Philip was launched upon the dark current of the +Hudson, paddling silently toward the Eastern shore. Darkness had now +fallen, and he trusted it to hide him from the vigilance of the +British vessels whose lights shone dim and uncertain down the river. + +Much larger craft landed much larger crews within our lines, on no +darker nights--as, for one case, when the Whigs came down in +whaleboats and set fire to the country mansion of our General De +Lancey at Bloomingdale. Philip made the passage unseen, and drew the +canoe up to a safe place under some bushes growing from the face of a +low bluff that rose from the slight beach. His heart galloped and +glowed at sense of being on the same island with his wife. He was +thrilled to think that, if all went well, within an hour or two he +should hold her in his arms. + +He saw to the priming of his pistols, and loosened the sword that hung +beneath his overcoat; and then he glided some way down the strip of +beach. Coming to a convenient place, he clambered up the bluff, to a +cleared space backed by woods. + +"Who goes there?" + +'Twas the voice of a man who had suddenly halted in the clearing, +half-way between the woods and the crest of the bluff. The snow on the +ground enabled the two to descry each other. Winwood saw the man raise +a musket to his shoulder. + +"A word with you, friend," said Philip, and strode swiftly forward ere +the sentinel (who was a loyalist volunteer, not a British regular) had +the wit to fire. Catching the musket-barrel with one hand, Winwood +clapped his pistol to the soldier's breast with the other. + +"Now," says he, "if you give a sound, I'll send a bullet through you. +If I pass here, 'twill bring you no harm, for none shall know it but +us two. Let go your musket a moment--I'll give it back to you, man." + +A pressure of the pistol against the fellow's ribs brought obedience. +Philip dropped the musket, and, with his foot, dug its lock into the +snow, spoiling the priming. + +"Now," he continued, "I'll leave you, and remember, if you raise an +alarm, you'll be blamed for not firing upon me." + +Whereupon Philip dashed into the woods, leaving the startled sentinel +to pick up his musket and resume his round as if naught had occurred. +The man knew that his own comfort lay in secrecy, and his comfort +outweighed his military conscience. + +Through woods and fields Winwood proceeded, skirted swamps and ponds, +and waded streams, traversing old familiar ground, the sight of which +brought back memories of countless holiday rambles in the happy early +days. Margaret's bright face and merry voice, her smiles, and her +little displays of partiality for him, were foremost in each +recollection; and that he was so soon to see her again, appeared too +wonderful for belief. He went forward in the intoxication of joy, +singing to himself as a boy would have done. + +He knew where there were houses and barns to avoid, and where there +were most like to be British cantonments. At length he was so near the +town, that he was surprised to have come upon no inner line of +sentries. Even as he wondered, he emerged from a copse into a field, +and received the usual challenge--spoken this time in so quick, +machine-like a manner, and accompanied by so prompt and precise a +levelling of the musket, that he knew 'twas a British regular he had +to deal with. + +He made a pretence of raising a pistol to shoot down the sentry. This +brought the sentry's fire, which--as it too was of a British regular +of those days--Philip felt safe in risking. But though the shot went +far wide, he gave a cry as if he had been hit, and staggered back into +the woods. He was no sooner within its cover, than he ran swiftly +Eastward with all possible silence. He had noted that the sentry had +been pacing in that direction; hence the first of the sentry's +comrades to run up would be the one approaching therefrom. This would +leave a break in the line, at that part of it East of the scene of the +alarm. Philip stopped presently; peered forth from the woods, saw the +second sentry hasten with long steps Westward; and then made a dash +across the latter's tracks, bending low his body as he went. He thus +reached a cover of thicket, through which he forced his way in time to +emerge toward the town ere any results of the alarming gun-shot were +manifest. + +Unless he were willing to attempt crossing what British defences he +knew not, or other impediments that might bar passage to the town +elsewhere than at the Bowery lane entrance, he must now pass the guard +there, which served for the town itself as the outer barriers at +Kingsbridge served for the whole island of Manhattan. He chose the +less tedious, though more audacious alternative of facing the guard. + +He could not employ in this case the method used in passing the shore +patrol, or that adopted in crossing the line of sentinels above the +town; for here the road was the only open way through, it was flanked +by a guardhouse, it was lighted by a lantern that hung above the door, +and the sentinels were disciplined men. Philip gathered these facts in +a single glance, as he approached by slinking along the side of the +road, into which he had crawled, through a rail fence, from an +adjoining field. + +He was close upon the sentinels who paced before the guardhouse, ere +he was discovered. For the third time that night, he heard the +challenge and saw the threatening movement. + +"All's well," he replied. "I'll give an account of myself." And he +stepped forward, grasping one of his pistols, not by the breech, but +by the barrel. + +"Stop where you are!" said the sentry, menacingly. + +Philip stood still, raised the pistol, flung it at the lantern, and +instantly dropped to his knees. The sentinel's musket flashed and +cracked. Total darkness ensued. Philip glided forward between the two +men, his footfalls drowned by the sound of their curses. When past +them, he hurled his remaining pistol back over his shoulder toward a +mass of bushes on the further side of the sentinels. Its descent +through the brush had some sound of a man's leap, and would, he hoped, +lead the enemy to think he might have escaped in that direction. By +the time the noise of a commotion reached him, with orders to turn out +the guard, he was past the building used as a prison for his fellow +rebels, and was hastening along the side of the common--now diverted +to camp uses of the British as it had been to those of the +rebels--able to find the rest of his way in Egyptian blackness. He +knew what alleys to take, what short cuts to make by traversing +gardens, what ways were most like to be deserted. The streets in the +part of the town through which he had to pass were nearly empty, the +taverns, the barracks, and most of the officers' quarters being +elsewhere. And so, with a heart elated beyond my power of expression, +he leaped finally into the rear garden of the Faringfield mansion, and +strode, as if on air, toward the veranda. + +He had guessed that the family would be in the smaller parlour, or the +library, and so he was not surprised to see all the lower windows dark +that were visible from the direction of his approach. But, which gave +him a thrill of delightful conjecture, two upper windows shone with +light--those above the great parlour and hence belonging to one of the +chambers formerly occupied by Margaret and him. He knew no reason why +his wife should not still retain the same rooms. She would, then, be +there, and probably alone. He might go to her while none was present +to chill their meeting, none before whom her pride might induce her to +conceal the completeness of her reconciliation, or to moderate the joy +of her greeting. Would she weep? Would she laugh? Would she cry out? +Would she merely fall into his arms with a glad smile and cling in a +long embrace under his lingering kiss? He trembled like a schoolboy as +he climbed the trellis-work to enter by a window. + +Creeping up the sloping, snow-covered roof of the veranda, he came at +length to the window, and looked in. The chamber was empty, but the +door was ajar that led to the apartment in front, used as a +sitting-room. She must be in that room, for his first glance had +recognised many of her trinkets and possessions in the first chamber. +He asked himself if the years had changed her: they would have made +her a little graver, doubtless. + +He opened the window so slowly that the noise was scarce perceptible. +Then he clambered over the ledge into the chamber; strode tiptoe +toward the next room, catching a mirrored glimpse of his face as he +passed her dressing-table--the most joyous, eager face in the world. +He pushed the door further open, and stepped across the threshold. She +was there, in the centre of the room, standing in meditation, her face +turned by chance toward the door through which he entered. + +"My dear," said he, in a voice scarce above a whisper; and started +toward her, with arms held out, and (I am sure) a very angel's smile +of joy and love upon his face. + +She opened her eyes and lips in wonder, and then stood pale and rigid +as marble, and made a faint gesture to check his approach. As he +halted in astonishment, his joy dying at her look, she whispered +hoarsely: + +"You! You, of all men? And to-night, of all nights!" + +'Twas the night of our setting forth upon her great design of seizing +his commander-in-chief. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_Their Interview._ + + +Philip took note, at the time, rather of her look than of her words. + +"Why, dear," said he, "don't be frightened. Tis I, Philip--'tis not my +ghost." + +"Yes, 'tis you--I know that well enough." + +"Then--" he began, and stepped toward her. + +But she retreated with such a movement that he stopped again. + +"What's the matter?" he questioned. "Why do you look so?--This is +scarce the welcome I had imagined." + +"Why are you here?" she asked, in a low voice, regarding him steadily. +"How did you come? What does it mean?" + +"It means I love you so much, I could stay no longer from seeing you. +I came by horse, boat, and foot. I passed the British sentries." + +"You risked your life, then?" + +"Oh, of course. If they caught me inside their lines, they would hang +me as a spy. But--" + +She could not but be touched at this. "Poor Philip!" she murmured, +with a tremor in her voice. + +"Not poor," said he, "now that I am with you--if you would not draw +back, and look so. What is wrong? Am I--unwelcome?" + +She saw that, to be true to her design, to her elaborate plan for the +future, she must not soften toward him--for his reappearance, with the +old-time boyish look and manner, the fond expression now wistful and +alarmed, the tender eyes now startled and affrighted, revived much +that had been dormant in her heart, and made Captain Falconer seem a +very far-off and casual person. Against the influence of Philip's +presence, and the effect of his having so imperilled himself to see +her, she had to arm herself with coldness, or look upon the success of +her project as going for naught to her advantage. She dared not +contemplate the forfeit; so she hardened her heart. + +"Why," she said, with a forced absence of feeling, "so many years have +passed--so many things have happened--you appear so much a stranger--" + +"Stranger!" echoed he. "Why, not if you had thought of me half as +constantly as I have of you! You have been in my mind, in my heart, +every hour, every minute since that day--Can it be? Is it my Margaret +that stands there and speaks so? So unmoved to see me! So cold! Oh, +who would have expected this?" + +He sat down and gazed wretchedly about the room, taking no cognisance +of what objects his sight fell upon. Margaret seated herself, with a +sigh of annoyance, and regarded him with a countenance of displeasure. + +"Margaret, do you mean what you say?" he asked, after a short silence. + +"I'm sure you shouldn't blame me," said she. "You enabled me to learn +how to endure your absence. You stayed away all these years. Naturally +I've come to consider you as--" + +"Nay, don't attempt to put me in the wrong. My heart is as warm to you +as ever, in spite of the years of absence. Those years have made no +change in me. Why should they have changed you, then? No--'tis not +their fault if you are changed, nor mine neither. There is something +wrong, I see. Be frank, dear, and tell me what it is. You need not be +afraid of me--you know I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head. Oh, +sweetheart, what has come between us? Tell me, I beg!" + +"Why, nothing, of course--nothing but the gulf that time has widened. +That's all--sure 'tis enough." + +"But 'tis more than that. Were that all, and I came back to you thus, +a minute's presence would bridge that gulf. All the old feelings would +rush back. Why, if I were but a mere acquaintance whom you had once +known in a friendly way, you wouldn't have greeted me so coldly. There +would have been cordiality, smiles, a warm clasp of the hand, +questions about my health and doings, at least a curiosity as to how I +had passed the years. But you meet me, not merely with lack of warmth, +but with positive coldness. Nay, you were shocked, startled, +frightened! You turned white, and stood still as if you saw a spirit, +or as if you were caught in some crime! Yes, 'twas for all the world +like that! And what was't you said? It passed me then, I was so amazed +at my reception--so different from the one I had pictured all the way +thither, all the weeks and months. What was't you said?" + +"Some word of surprise, I suppose; something of no meaning." + +"Nay, it had meaning, too. I felt that, though I put it aside for the +time. Something about the night--ah, yes: 'to-night of all nights.' +And me of all men. Why so? Why to-night in particular? Why am I the +most inconvenient visitor, and why _to-night_? Tell me that! Tell +me--I have the right to know!" + +"Nay, if you work yourself up into a fury so--" + +"'Tis no senseless fury, madam! There's reason at the bottom of it, my +lady! I must know, and I will know, what it is that my visit +interferes with. You were not going out, I can see by your dress. Nor +expecting company. Unless--no, it couldn't be that! You're not capable +of that! You are my wife, you are Margaret Faringfield, William +Faringfield's daughter. God forgive the mistrust--yet every husband +with an imagination has tortured himself for an instant sometime with +that thought, suppose his wife's heart _might_ stray? I've heard 'em +confess the thought; and even I--but what a hell it was for the moment +it lasted! And how swiftly I put it from me, to dwell on your +tenderness in the old days, your pride that has put you above the +hopes of all men but me, the unworthy one you chose to reach down your +hand to from your higher level!" + +"So you have harboured _that_ suspicion, have you?" she cried, with +flashing eyes. + +"No, no; harboured it never! Only let my perverse imagination 'light, +for the space of a breath, on the possibility, to my unutterable +torment. All men's fancies play 'em such tricks now and then, to +torture them and take down their vanity. Men would rest too easy in +their security, were it not so." + +"A man that suspects his wife, deserves to lose her allegiance," cried +Margaret, with a kind of triumphant imputation of blame, which was her +betrayal. + +He gazed at her with the dawning horror of half-conviction. + +"Then I have lost yours?" he asked, in a tone stricken with doubt and +dread. + +"I didn't say so," she replied, reddening. + +"But your words imply that. You seemed to be justifying yourself by my +suspicion. But there was no suspicion till now--nothing but a +tormenting fancy of what I believed impossible. So you cannot excuse +yourself that way." + +"I'm not trying to excuse myself. There's nothing to excuse." + +"I'm not sure of that! Your manner looks as if you realised having +said too much--having betrayed yourself. Margaret, for God's sake, +tell me 'tis not so! Tell me my fears are wrong! Assure me I have not +lost you--no, no, I won't even ask you. 'Tis not possible. I won't +believe it of you--that you could be inconstant! Forgive me, +dear--your strange manner has so upset me--but forgive me, I beg, and +let me take you in my arms." He had risen to approach her. + +"No, no! Don't. Don't touch me!" she cried, rising in turn, for +resistance. She kept her mind fixed upon the expected rewards of her +project, and so fortified herself against yielding. + +"By heaven, I'll know what this means!" he cried. He looked wildly +about the room, as if the explanation might somewhere there be found. +Her own glance went with his, as if there might indeed be some +evidence, which she must either make shift to conceal, or invent an +innocent reason for its presence. Her eye rested an instant upon a +book that lay on the table. Philip noted this, picked up the book, +turned the cover, and read the name on the first leaf. + +"'Charles Falconer.' Who is he?" + +[Illustration: "'HE IS A--AN ACQUAINTANCE.'"] + +"No matter," she said quickly, and made to snatch the book away. "He +is a--an acquaintance. He is quartered in the house, in fact--a +British officer." + +"An acquaintance? But why do you turn red? Why look so confused? Why +try to take the book away from me? Oh, my God, it is true! it is +true!" He dropped the volume, sank back upon a chair, and regarded her +with indescribable grief. + +"Why," she blundered, "a gentleman may lend a lady a novel--" + +"Oh, the lending is nothing! 'Twas your look and action when I read +his name. 'Tis your look now, your look of guilt. Oh, to see that +flush of discovered shame on _your_ face! You care for this man, I can +see that!" + +"Well, what if I do?" + +"Then you confess it? Oh, can it be you that say this?--you that stand +there with eyes that drop before mine for shame--nay, eyes that you +raise with defiance! Brazen--oh, my God, my God, tell me 'tis all a +mistake! Tell me I wrong you, dear; that you are still mine, my +Margaret, my Madge--little Madge, that found me a home that day I came +to New York; my pretty Madge, that cried when I was going to leave on +Ned's account; that I loved the first moment I saw her, and--always--" + +He broke down at this, and leaned forward upon the table, covering his +face with his hands. When he next looked up, with haggard countenance, +he saw her lips twitching and tears in her eyes. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a flash of hope, and half rose to go to her. + +"No, no! Let me alone!" she cried, escaping narrowly from that +surrender to her feelings which would have meant forfeiting the fruits +of her long planning. + +His mood changed. + +"I'll not endure this," he cried, rising and pacing the floor. "You'll +find I'm no such weakling, though I can weep for my wife when I lose +her love. _He_ shall find it so, too! I understand now what you meant +by 'to-night of all nights.' He was to meet you to-night. He's +quartered in the house, you say. He was to slink up, no doubt, when +all were out of the way--your father divines little of this, I'll +warrant. Well, he may come--but he shall find _me_ waiting at my +wife's door!" + +"You'll wait in vain, then. He is very far from here to-night." + +"I'll believe that when it's proven. I find 'tis well that I, 'of all +men,' came here to-night." + +"Nay, you're mistaken. You had been more like to find him to-night +where you came from, than where you've come to." + +How true it is that a woman may always be relied on to say a word too +much--whether for the sake of a taunt, or the mere necessity of giving +an apt answer, I presume not to decide. + +"What can that mean?" said he, arrested by the peculiarity of her tone +and look. "Find him where I came from? Why, that's our camp. What does +he do there, 'to-night of all nights?' Explain yourself." + +"Nothing at all. I spoke without thinking." + +"The likelier to have spoken true, then! So your--acquaintance--might +be found in our camp to-night? Charles Falconer, a British officer. I +can't imagine--not as a spy, surely. Oho! is there some expedition? +Some attack, some midnight surprise? This requires looking into." + +"I fear you will not find out much. And if you did, it would be too +late for you to carry a warning." + +"The expedition has too great a start of me--is that what you mean? +That's to be seen. I might beat Mr. Falconer in this, as he has beaten +me--elsewhere. I know the Jersey roads better than I have known my +wife's heart, perchance. What is this expedition?" + +"Do you think I would tell you--if there were one?" + +"I'm satisfied there is some such thing. But I doubt no warning of +mine is needed, to defeat it. Our army is alert for these night +attempts. We've had too many of 'em. If there be one afoot to-night, +so much the worse for those engaged in it." + +This irritated her; and she never used the skill to guard her speech, +at her calmest; so she answered quickly: + +"Not if it's helped by traitors in your camp!" + +"What?--But how should you, a woman, know of such a matter?" + +"You'll see, when the honours are distributed." + +"This is very strange. You are in this officer's confidence, perhaps. +He is unwise to trust you so far--you have told me enough to--" + +"There's no more need of secrecy. Captain Falconer's men are well on +their way to Morristown. Even if you got out of our lines as easily as +you got in, you could only meet our troops returning with your +general." + +Doubtless she conceived that by taunting him, at this safe hour, with +this prevision of her success, she helped the estrangement which she +felt necessary to her enjoyment of her expected rewards. + +"Oho!" quoth he, with a bitter, derisive laugh. "Another attempt to +seize Washington! What folly!" + +"Not when we are helped by treason in your camp, as I said before. +Folly, is it? You'll sing another song to-morrow!" + +She smiled with anticipated triumph, and the smile had in it so much +of the Madge of other days, that his bitterness forsook him, and +admiration and love returned to sharpen his grief. + +"Oh, Madge, dear, could I but win you back!" he murmured, wistfully. + +"What, in that strain again!" she said, petulant at each revival of +the self-reproach his sorrow caused in her. + +"Ay, if I had but the chance! If I might be with you long enough, if I +might reawaken the old tenderness!--But I forget; treason in our camp, +you say. There is danger, then--ay, there's always the possibility. +The devil's in it, that I must tear myself from you now; that I must +part with you while matters are so wrong between us; that I must leave +you when I would give ten years of life for one hour to win your love +back! But you will take my hand, let me kiss you once--you will do +that for the sake of the old times--and then I will be gone!" + +"Be gone? Where?" + +"Back to camp, of course, to give warning of this expedition." + +"'Tis impossible! Tis hours--" + +"'Tis not impossible--I will outride them. They wouldn't have started +before dark." + +"You would only overtake them, at your best. Do you think they would +let you pass?" + +"Poh! I know every road. I can ride around them. I'll put the army in +readiness for 'em, treason or no treason! For the present, good-bye--" + +The look in his face--of power and resolution--gave her a sudden sense +of her triumph slipping out of her grasp. + +"You must not go!" she cried, quite awakened to the peril of the +situation to her enterprise. + +"I must! Good-bye! One kiss, I beg!" + +"But you sha'n't go!" As he came close to her, she clasped him tightly +with both arms. She made no attempt to avoid his kiss, and he, taking +this for acquiescence, bestowed the kiss upon unresponsive lips. + +"Now let me go," said he, turning to stride toward the door by which +he had entered from the rear chamber. + +"No, no! Stay. Time to win back my love, you said. Take the time now. +You may find me not so difficult of winning back. Nay, I have never +ceased to love you, at the bottom of my heart. I love you now. You +shall stay." + +"I must not, I dare not. Oh, I would to God I could believe you! But +whether 'tis true, or a device to keep me here, I will not stay. Let +me go!" + +"I will not! You will have to force me from you, first! I tell you I +love you--my husband!" + +"If you love me, you will let me go." + +"If you love me, you will stay." + +"Not a moment--though God knows how I love you! I will come to see you +soon again." + +"If you go now, I will never let you see me again!--Nay, you must drag +me after you, then!" + +He was moving toward the door despite her hold; and now he caught her +wrists to force open the clasp in which she held him. + +"Oh! you are crushing my arms!" she cried. + +"Ay, the beautiful, dear arms--God bless them! But let me go, then!" + +"I won't! You will have to kill me, first! You shall not spoil my +scheme!" + +"Yours!" + +"Yes, mine! Mine, against your commander, against your cause!" She was +wrought up now to a fury, at the physical force he exerted to release +himself; and for the time, swayed by her feelings only, she let policy +fly to the winds. "Your cause that I hate, because it ruined my hopes +before! You are a fool if you think my being your wife would have kept +me from fighting your hateful cause. I became your wife that I might +go to England, and when that failed I was yours no longer. Love +another? Yes!--and you shall not spoil his work and mine--not unless +you kill me!" + +For a moment his mental anguish, his overwhelming shame for her, +unnerved him, and he stared at her with a ghastly face, relaxing his +pressure for freedom. But this weakness was followed by a fierce +reaction. His countenance darkened, and with one effort, the first +into which he had put his real strength, he tore her arms from him. +White-faced and breathing fast, with rage and fear of defeat, she ran +to a front window, and flung it open. + +"By heaven, I'll stop you!" she cried. "Help! A rebel--a spy! Ah, you +men yonder--this way! A rebel spy!" + +Philip looked over her head, out of the window. Far up the street +swaggered five or six figures which, upon coming under a corner lamp +whose rays yellowed a small circle of snow, showed to be those of +British soldiers. Their unaltered movements evidenced that they had +not heard her cry. Thereupon she shouted, with an increased voice: + +"Soldiers! Help! Surround this house! A rebel--" + +She got no further, for Philip dragged her away from the window, and, +when she essayed to scream the louder, he placed one hand over her +mouth, the other about her neck. Holding her thus, he forced her into +the rear chamber, and then toward the window by which he meant to +leave. At its very ledge he let her go, and made to step out to the +roof of the veranda. But she grasped his clothes with the power of +rage and desperation, and set up another screaming for help. + +In an agony of mind at having to use such painful violence against a +woman, and how much more so against the wife he still loved; and at +the grievous appearance that she was willing to sacrifice him upon the +British gallows rather than let him mar her purpose, he flung her away +with all necessary force, so that, with a final shriek of pain and +dismay, she fell to the floor exhausted. + +He cast an anguished glance upon her, as she lay defeated and +half-fainting; and, knowing not to what fate he might be leaving her, +he moaned, "God pity her!" and stepped out upon the sloping roof. He +scrambled to the edge, let himself half-way down by the trellis, +leaped the rest of the distance, and ran through the back garden from +the place he had so well loved. + +While his wife, lying weak upon the floor of her chamber, gazed at the +window through which he had disappeared, and, as if a new change had +occurred within her, sobbed in consternation: + +"Oh, what have I done? He is a man, indeed!--and I have lost him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_Wherein Captain Winwood Declines a Promotion._ + + +Philip assumed that the greatest risk would lie in departing the town +by the route over which he had made his entrance, and in which he had +left a trail of alarm. His best course would be in the opposite +direction. + +Therefore, having leaped across the fence to the alley behind the +Faringfield grounds, he turned to the right and ran; for he had +bethought him, while fleeing through the garden, that he might +probably find a row-boat at the Faringfield wharves. He guessed that, +as the port of New York was open to all but the rebel Americans and +their allies the French, Mr. Faringfield would have continued his +trade in the small way possible, under the British flag, that his loss +by the war might be the less, and his means of secretly aiding the +rebel cause might be the more. So there would still be some little +shipping, and its accessories, at the wharves. + +Though the British occupation had greatly changed the aspect of the +town by daylight, it had not altered the topography of that part which +Philip had to traverse, and the darkness that served as his shield was +to him no impediment. Many a time, in the old days, we had chased and +fled through those streets and alleys, in make-believe deer-hunts or +mimic Indian warfare. So, without a collision or a stumble, he made +his way swiftly to the mouth of a street that gave upon the +water-front, by the Faringfield warehouse where so many busy days of +his boyhood and youth had passed, and opposite the wharves. + +He paused here, lacking knowledge whether the river front was guarded +or not. He saw no human being, but could not be sure whether or not +some dark form might emerge from the dimness when he should cross to +the wharves. These, like the street and the roofs, were snow-covered. +Aloft beyond them, but close, two or three faint lights, tiny yellow +islets in a sea of gloom, revealed the presence of the shipping on +which he had counted. He could hear the slap of the inky water against +the piles, but scarce another sound, save his own breathing. + +He formed the intention of making a noiseless dash across the +waterside street, with body bent low, to the part of the wharf where a +small boat was most like to be. He was standing close to one side of a +wooden building that fronted toward the wharf. + +He sprang forward, and, just as he passed the corner of the edifice, +his head struck something heavy but yielding, which toppled over +sidewise with a grunt, and upon which Philip fell prone, forcing from +it a second grunt a little less vigorous than the first. 'Twas a human +body, that had come from the front of the house at the same instant in +which Philip had darted from along the side. + +"Shall I choke him to assure silence?" Phil hurriedly asked himself, +and instinctively made to put his hands to the man's neck. But the +body under him began to wriggle, to kick out with its legs, and to lay +about with its hands. + +"What the hell d'yuh mean?" it gasped. "Git off o' me!" + +Philip scrambled promptly to his feet, having recognised the voice. + +"I'll stake my life, it's Meadows!" + +"Yes, it is, and who in the name of hellfire an' brimstone--?" + +"Hush, Bill! Don't you know my voice? Let me help you up. There you +are. I'm Philip Winwood!" + +"Why, so y'are, boy! Excuse the way I spoke. But what on airth--?" + +"No matter what I'm doing here. The thing is to get back to camp. +Come! Is the wharf a safe place for me?" + +"Yes, at this hour of a dark night. But I'd like to know--" + +"Keep with me, then," whispered Philip, and made for the wharf, +holding the old watchman's arm. "Show me where there's a small boat. I +must row to the Jersey side at once, and then ride--by heaven, I wish +I might get a horse, over there, without going as far as Dan Ellis's! +I left mine with him." + +"Mebbe I can get you a hoss, yonder," said Meadows. "An' I reckon I +can row you round an' acrost, 'thout their plaguey ships a-spyin' us." + +"Then, by the Lord," said Philip, while Meadows began letting himself +down the side of the wharf to the skiff which he knew rode there upon +the black water, "'tis enough to make one believe in miracles, my +running into you! What were you doing out so late?" + +"Mum, sir! I was jest back from the same camp you're bound fur. +'Tain't five minutes since I crawled up out o' this yer skift." + +"What! And did you meet a party going the other way--toward our camp, +I mean?" + +"Ay," replied Meadows, standing up in the boat and guiding the legs of +Philip as the latter descended from the wharf. "I watched 'em from the +patch o' woods beyont Westervelt's. I took 'em to be Major Lee's men, +or mebbe yours, from their caps and plumes; but I dunno: I couldn't +see well. But if they was goin' to the Morristown camp, they was goin' +by a roundabout way, fur they took the road to the right, at the fork +t'other side o' them woods!" + +"Good, if 'twas a British troop indeed! If I take the short road, I +may beat 'em. Caps and plumes like ours, eh! Here, I'll pull an oar, +too; and for God's sake keep clear of the British ships." + +"Trust me, cap'n. I guess they ain't shifted none since I come acrost +awhile ago. I'll land yuh nearest where we can get the hoss I spoke +of. 'Tis the beast 'ut brung me from the camp--but mum about that." +The two men moved at the oars, and the boat shot out from the sluggish +dock-water to the live current, down which it headed. "Don't you +consarn yerse'f about them ships--'tis the dark o' the moon an' a +cloudy night, an' as fur our course, I could _smell_ it out, if it +come to that!" + +They rounded the end of the town, and turned into the Hudson, gliding +black over the surface of blackness. They pulled for some distance +against the stream, so as to land far enough above our post at Paulus +Hook. Going ashore in a little cove apparently well-known to Meadows, +they drew up the boat, and hastened inland. Meadows had led the way +about half a mile, when a dark mass composed of farmhouse and +outbuildings loomed up before them. + +"Here's where the hoss is; Pete Westervelt takes keer of him," +whispered the watchman, and strode, not to the stables, but to the +door of what appeared to be an outer kitchen, which he opened with a +key of his own. A friendly whinny greeted him from the narrow dark +space into which he disappeared. He soon came out, leading the horse +he used in his journeys to and from the American camp, and bearing +saddle and bridle on his arm. The two men speedily adjusted these, +whereupon Philip mounted. + +"Bring or send the beast back by night," said Meadows, handing over +the key, with which he had meanwhile relocked the door of his +improvised stable. "Hoss-flesh is damn' skeerce these times." This was +the truth, the needs of the armies having raised the price of a horse +to a fabulous sum. + +Philip promised to return the horse or its equivalent; gave a swift +acknowledgment of thanks, and a curt good-night; and made off, leaving +old Meadows to foot it, and row it, once more back to New York. + +'Twas now, till he should reach the camp, but a matter of steady +galloping, with ears alert for the sound of other hoof-beats, eyes +watchful at crossroads and open stretches for the party he hoped to +forestall. While he had had ways and means to think of, and had been +in peril of detection by the British, or in doubt of obtaining a horse +without a long trudge to Ellis's hut, his mind had been diverted from +the unhappy interview with Margaret. But now that swept back into his +thoughts, inundating his soul with grief and shame, of the utmost +degree of bitterness. These were the more complete from the +recollection of the joyous anticipations with which he had gone to +meet her. + +Contemplation of this contrast, sense of his desertion, overcame his +habitual resistance to self-pity, a feeling against which he was +usually on the stronger guard for his knowledge that it was a +concomitant of his inherent sensibility. He quite yielded to it for a +time; and though 'twas sharpened by his comparison of the Margaret he +had just left, with the pretty, soft-smiling Madge of other days, that +comparison eventually supplanted self-pity with pity for her, a +feeling no less laden with sorrow. + +He dared not think of what her perverseness might yet lead her to. For +himself he saw nothing but hopeless sorrow, unless she could be +brought back to her better self. But, alas, he by whose influence that +end might be achieved--for he could not believe that her heart had +quite cast him out--was flying from her, and years might pass ere he +should see her again: meanwhile, how intolerable would life be to him! +His heart, with the instinct of self-protection, sought some interest +in which it might find relief. + +He thought of the cause for which he was fighting. That must suffice; +it must take the place of wife and love. Cold, impersonal, inadequate +as it seemed now, he knew that in the end it would suffice to fill +great part of that inner heart which she had occupied. He turned to it +with the kindling affection which a man ever has for the resource that +is left him when he is scorned elsewhere. And he felt his ardour for +it fanned by his deepened hate for the opposing cause, a hate +intensified by the circumstance that his rival was of that cause. For +that rival's sake, he hated with a fresh implacability the whole royal +side and everything pertaining to it. He pressed his teeth together, +and resolved to make that side pay as dearly as lay in him to make it, +for what he had lost of his wife's love, and for what she had lost of +her probity. + +And the man himself, Falconer! 'Twas he that commanded this night's +wild attempt, if she had spoken truly. Well, Falconer should not +succeed this night, and Philip, with a kind of bitter elation, thanked +God 'twas through him that the attempt should be the more utterly +defeated. He patted his horse--a faithful beast that had known but a +short rest since it had travelled over the same road in the opposite +direction--and used all means to keep it at the best pace compatible +with its endurance. Forward it sped, in long, unvarying bounds, seeing +the road in the dark, or rather in the strange dusky light yielded by +the snow-covered earth and seeming rather to originate there than to +be reflected from the impenetrable obscurity overhead. + +From the attempt which he was bent upon turning into a ridiculous +abortion, if it lay in the power of man and horse to do so, Philip's +thoughts went to the object of that attempt, Washington himself. He +was thrilled at once with a greater love and admiration for that firm +soul maintaining always its serenity against the onslaughts of men and +circumstance, that soul so unshakable as to seem in the care of Fate +itself. Capture Washington! Philip laughed at the thought. + +And yet a British troop had seized General Charles Lee when he was the +rebels' second in command, and, in turn, a party of Yankees had taken +the British General Prescott from his quarters in Rhode Island. True, +neither of these officers was at the time of his seizure as safely +quartered and well guarded as Washington was now; but, on the other +hand, Margaret had spoken of treachery in the American camp. Who were +the traitors? Philip hoped he might find out their chief, at least. + +It was a long and hard ride, and more and more an up-hill one as it +neared its end. But Philip's thoughts made him so often unconscious of +his progress, and of the passage of the hours, that he finally +realised with a momentary surprise that he had reached a fork of the +road, near which he should come upon the rebel pickets, and that the +night was far spent. He might now take one road, and enter the camp at +its nearest point, but at a point far from Washington's headquarters; +or he might take the other road and travel around part of the camp, so +as to enter it at a place near the general's house. 'Twas at or near +the latter place that the enemy would try to enter, as they would +surely be so directed by the traitors within the camp. + +Heedless of the apparent advantage of alarming the camp at the +earliest possible moment, at whatever part of it he could then reach, +he felt himself impelled to choose the second road. He ever afterward +held that his choice of this seemingly less preferable road was the +result of a swift process of unconscious reasoning--for he maintained +that what we call intuition is but an instantaneous perception of +facts and of their inevitable inferences, too rapid for the reflective +part of the mind to record. + +He felt the pressure of time relaxed, for a troop of horse going by +the circuitous route Meadows had indicated could not have reached the +camp in the hours since they had passed the place where Meadows had +seen them. So he let his horse breathe wherever the road was broken by +ascents. At last he drew up, for a moment, upon an eminence which +gave, by daylight, a wide view of country. Much of this expanse being +clear of timber, and clad in snow, it yielded something to a +night-accustomed eye, despite the darkness. A low, far-off, steady, +snow-muffled beating, which had imperceptibly begun to play on +Winwood's ear, indicated a particular direction for his gaze. +Straining his senses, he looked. + +Against the dusky-white background of snow, he could make out an +indistinct, irregular, undulating line of moving dark objects. He +recognised this appearance as the night aspect of a distant band of +horsemen. They were travelling in a line parallel to his own. +Presently, he knew, they would turn toward him, and change their +linear appearance to that of a compact mass. But he waited not for +that. He gently bade his horse go on, and presently he turned straight +for the camp, having a good lead of the horsemen. + +He was passing a little copse at his right hand, when suddenly a dark +figure stepped from behind a tree into the road before him. Thinking +this was a soldier on picket duty, he recollected the word of the +night, and reined in to give it upon demand. But the man, having +viewed him as well as the darkness allowed, seemed to realise having +made a mistake, and, as suddenly as he had appeared, stalked back into +the wood. + +"What does this mean?" thought Philip; and then he remembered what +Margaret had said of treachery. Was this mysterious night-walker a +traitor posted there to aid the British to their object? + +"Stop or I'll shoot you down!" cried Philip, remembering too late that +he had parted with both his pistols at the Bowery lane guard-house. + +But the noise of the man's retreat through the undergrowth told that +he was willing to risk a shot. + +Philip knew the importance of obtaining a clue to the traitors. The +rebels had suffered considerably from treachery on their own side; had +been in much danger from the treason of Doctor Church at Boston; had +owed the speedier loss of their Fort Washington to that of Dumont; and +(many of them held) the retreat which Washington checked at Monmouth, +to the design of their General Charles Lee. So the capture of this +man, apart from its possible effect upon the present business, might +lead to the unearthing of a nest of traitors likely at some future +time, if not to-night, to menace the rebel cause. + +Philip leaped from his horse, and, trusting to the animal's manifest +habit of awaiting orders, stopped not to tie it, but plunged directly +into the wood, drawing his sword as he went. + +The sound of the man's flight had ceased, but Philip continued in the +direction it had first taken. He was about to cross a row of low +bushes, when he unexpectedly felt his ankle caught by a hand, and +himself thrown forward on his face. The man had crouched amongst the +bushes and tripped him up as he made to pass. + +The next moment, the man was on Philip's back, fumbling to grasp his +neck, and muttering: + +"Tell me who you are, quick! Who are you from? You don't wear the +dragoon cap, I see. Now speak the truth, or by God I'll shoot your +head off!" + +Philip knew, at the first word, the voice of Ned Faringfield. It took +him not an instant to perceive who was a chief--if not _the_ +chief--traitor in the affair, or to solve what had long been to him +also a problem, that of Ned's presence in the rebel army. The +recognition of voice had evidently not been mutual; doubtless this was +because Philip's few words had been spoken huskily. Retaining his +hoarseness, and taking his cue from Ned's allusion to the dragoon cap, +he replied: + +"'Tis all right. You're our man, I see. Though I don't wear the +dragoon cap, I come from New York about Captain Falconer's business." + +"Then why the hell didn't you give the word?" said Ned, releasing his +pressure upon Philip's body. + +"You didn't ask for it. Get up--you're breaking my back." + +Ned arose, relieving Philip of all weight, but stood over him with a +pistol. + +"Then give it now," Ned commanded. + +"I'll be hanged if you haven't knocked it clean out of my head," +replied Philip. "Let me think a moment--I have the cursedest memory." + +He rose with a slowness, and an appearance of weakness, both mainly +assumed. He still held his sword, which, happily for him, had turned +flat under him as he fell. When he was quite erect, he suddenly flung +up the sword so as to knock the pistol out of aim, dashed forward with +all his weight, and, catching Ned by the throat with both hands, bore +him down upon his side among the briars, and planted a knee upon his +neck. Instantly shortening his sword, he held the point close above +Ned's eye. + +"Now," said Phil, "let that pistol fall! Let it fall, I say, or I'll +run my sword into your brain. That's well. You traitor, shall I kill +you now? or take you into camp and let you hang for your treason?" + +Ned wriggled, but finding that Philip held him in too resolved a +grasp, gave up. + +"Is it you, brother Phil?" he gasped. "Why, then, you lied; you said +you came from New York, about Falconer's business. I'd never have +thought _you'd_ stoop to a mean deception!" + +"I think I'd better take you to hang," continued Philip. "If I kill +you now, we sha'n't get the names of the other traitors." + +"You wouldn't do such an unbrotherly act, Phil! I know you wouldn't. +You've too good a heart. Think of your wife, my sister--" + +"Ay, the traitress!" + +"Then think of my father; think of the mouth that fed you--I mean the +hand that fed you! You'll let me go, Phil--sure you'll let me go. +Remember how we played together when we were boys. I'll give you the +names of the other traitors. I'm not so much to blame: I was lured +into this--lured by your wife--so help me God, I was--and you're +responsible for her, you know. _You_ ought to be the last man in the +world--" + +Philip's mood had changed at thought of Ned's father; the old man's +pride of the name, his secret and perilous devotion to the rebel +cause: he deserved better of that cause than that his son should die +branded as a traitor to it; and better of Phil than that by his hand +that son should be slain. + +"How can you let me have the names without loss of time, if I let you +go, on condition of your giving our army a wide berth the rest of your +days?" Philip asked, turning the captive over upon his back. + +"I can do it in a minute, I swear," cried Ned. "Will you let me go if +I do?" + +"If I'm convinced they're the right names and all the names; but if +so, and I let you go, remember I'll see you hanged if you ever show +your face in our army again." + +"Rest easy on that. I take you at your word. The names are all writ +down in my pocketbook, with the share of money each man was to get. If +I was caught, I was bound the rest should suffer, too. The book is in +my waistcoat lining--there; do you feel it? Rip it out." + +Philip did so, and, sitting on Ned's chest, with a heel ready to beat +in his skull at a treacherous movement, contrived to strike a light +and verify by the brief flame of the tow the existence of a list of +names. As time was now of ever-increasing value, Philip took it for +granted that the list was really what Ned declared it. He then +possessed himself of Ned's pistol, and rose, intending to conduct him +as far as to the edge of the camp, and to release him only when Philip +should have given the alarm, so that Ned could not aid the approach of +Falconer's party. But Philip had no sooner communicated this intention +than Ned suddenly whipped out a second pistol from his coat pocket, in +which his hand had been busy for some time, and aimed at him. Thanks +to a spoiled priming, the hammer fell without effect. + +"You double traitor!" cried Philip, rushing upon Ned with threatening +sword. But Ned, with a curse, bent aside, and, before Philip could +bring either of his weapons into use, grappled with him for another +fall. The two men swayed together an instant; then Philip once more +shortened his sword and plunged the point into Ned's shoulder as both +came down together. + +"God damn your soul!" cried Ned, and for the time of a breath hugged +his enemy the tighter. But for the time of a breath only; the hold +then relaxed; and Philip, rising easily from the embrace of the limp +form, ran unimpeded to the road, mounted the waiting horse, and +galloped to the rebel lines. + +When our party, all the fatigue of the ride forgotten in a thrill of +expectation, reached the spot where Ned Faringfield was to join us, +our leader's low utterance of the signal, and our eager peerings into +the wood, met no response. As we stood huddled together, there broke +upon us from the front such a musketry, and there forthwith appeared +in the open country at our left such a multitude of mounted figures, +that we guessed ourselves betrayed, and foresaw ourselves surrounded +by a vastly superior force if we stayed for a demonstration. + +"'Tis all up, gentlemen!" cried Captain Falconer, in a tone of +resignation, and without even an oath; whereupon we wheeled in +disappointment and made back upon our tracks; being pursued for some +miles, but finally abandoned, by the cavalry we had seen, which, as we +did not learn till long afterward, was led by Winwood. We left some +dead and wounded near the place where we had been taken by surprise; +and some whose horses had been hurt were made prisoners. + +For his conduct in all this business, an offer was made to Philip of +promotion to a majority; but he firmly declined it, saying that he +owed the news of our expedition to such circumstances that he chose +not, in his own person, to profit by it.[6] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_The Bad Shilling Turns up Once More in Queen Street._ + + +"This will be sad news to Mrs. Winwood, gentlemen," said Captain +Falconer to Tom and me, as we rode toward the place where we should +take the boats for New York. The day was well forward, but its gray +sunless light held little cheer for such a silent, dejected crew as we +were. + +The captain was too much the self-controlled gentleman to show great +disappointment on his own account, though he had probably set store +upon this venture, as an opportunity that he lacked in his regular +duties on General Clinton's staff, where he served pending the delayed +enlistment of the loyalist cavalry troop he had been sent over to +command. But though he might hide his own regrets, now that we were +nearing Margaret, it was proper to consider our failure with reference +to her. + +"Doubtless," he went on, "there was treachery against us somewhere; +for we cannot suppose such vigilance and preparation to be usual with +the rebels. But we must not hint as much to her. The leak may have +been, you see, through one of the instruments of her choosing--the man +Meadows, perhaps, or--" (He stopped short of mentioning Ned +Faringfield, whose trustworthiness on either side he was warranted, by +much that he had heard, in doubting.) "In any case," he resumed, +"'twould be indelicate to imply that her judgment of men, her +confidence in any one, could have been mistaken. We'd best merely tell +her, then, that the rebels were on the alert, and fell upon us before +we could meet her brother." + +We thought to find her with face all alive, expectant of the best +news, or at least in a fever of impatience, and that therefore 'twould +be the more painful to tell her the truth. But when the captain's +servant let the three of us in at the front door (Tom and I had waited +while Falconer briefly reported our fiasco to General Clinton) and we +found her waiting for us upon the stairs, her face was pale with a set +and tragic wofulness, as if tidings of our failure had preceded us. +There was, perhaps, an instant's last flutter of hope against hope, a +momentary remnant of inquiry, in her eyes; but this yielded to +despairing certainty at her first clear sight of our crestfallen +faces. + +"'Twas all for nothing, then?" she said, with a quiet weariness which +showed that her battle with disappointment had been fought and had +left her tired out if not resigned. + +"Yes," said the captain, apparently relieved to discover that no storm +of disappointment or reproach was to be undergone. "They are too +watchful. We hadn't yet come upon your brother, when a heavy fire +broke out upon us. We were lucky to escape before they could surround +us. Nine of our men are missing." + +She gave a shudder, then came to us, kissed Tom with more than +ordinary tenderness, grasped my hand affectionately, and finally held +the captain's in a light, momentary clasp. + +"You did your best, I'm sure," she said, in a low voice, at the same +time flashing her eyes furtively from one to another as if to detect +whether we hid any part of the news. + +We were relieved and charmed at this resigned manner of receiving our +bad tidings, and it gave me, at least, a higher opinion of her +strength of character. This was partly merited, I make no doubt; +though I did not know then that she had reason to reproach herself for +our failure. + +"And that's all you have to tell?" she queried. "You didn't discover +what made them so ready for a surprise?" + +"No," replied the captain, casually. "Could there have been any +particular reason, think you? To my mind, they have had lessons enough +to make them watchful." + +She looked relieved. I suppose she was glad we should not know of her +interview with Philip, and of the imprudent taunts by which she +herself had betrayed the great design. + +"Well," said she. "They may not be so watchful another time. We may +try again. Let us wait until I hear from Ned." + +But when she stole an interview with Bill Meadows, that worthy had no +communication from Ned; instead thereof, he had news that Captain +Faringfield had disappeared from the rebel camp, and was supposed by +some to have deserted to the British. Something that Meadows knew not +at the time, nor I till long after, was of the treasonable plot +unearthed in the rebel army, and that two or three of the participants +had been punished for the sake of example, and the less guilty ones +drummed out of the camp. This was the result of Philip's presentation +to General Washington of the list of names obtained from Ned, some of +the men named therein having confessed upon interrogation. Philip's +account of the affair made it appear to Washington that his discovery +was due to his accidental meeting with Ned Faringfield, and that +Faringfield's escape was but the unavoidable outcome of the +hand-to-hand fight between the two men--for Philip had meanwhile +ascertained, by a personal search, that Ned had not been too severely +hurt to make good his flight. + +Well, there passed a Christmas, and a New Year, in which the +Faringfield house saw some revival of the spirit of gladness that had +formerly prevailed within its comfortable walls at that season. Mr. +Faringfield, who had grown more gray and taciturn each year, mellowed +into some resemblance to his former benevolent, though stately, self. +He had not yet heard of Ned's treason. His lady, still graceful and +slender, resumed her youth. Fanny, who had ever forced herself to the +diffusion of merriment when there was cheerlessness to be dispelled, +reflected with happy eyes the old-time jocundity now reawakened. My +mother, always a cheerful, self-reliant, outspoken soul, imparted the +cordiality of her presence to the household, and both Tom and I +rejoiced to find the old state of things in part returned. Margaret, +perhaps for relief from her private dejection, took part in the +household festivities with a smiling animation that she had not +vouchsafed them in years; and Captain Falconer added to their gaiety +by his charming wit, good-nature, and readiness to please. Yet he, I +made no doubt, bore within him a weight of dashed hopes, and could +often have cursed when he laughed. + +The happy season went, leaving a sweeter air in the dear old house +than had filled it for a long time. All that was missing, it seemed to +us who knew not yet as much as Margaret knew, was the presence of +Philip. Well, the war must end some day, and then what a happy +reunion! By that time, if Heaven were kind, I thought, the charm of +Captain Falconer would have lost power over Margaret's inclinations, +and all would be well that ended well. + +One night in January, we had sat very late at cards in the Faringfield +parlour, and my mother had just cried out, "Dear bless me, look at the +clock!"--when there sounded a dull, heavy pounding upon the rear hall +door. There were eight of us, at the two card-tables: Mr. Faringfield +and his lady, my mother, Margaret and Fanny, Mr. Cornelius, Tom, and +myself. And every one of us, looking from face to face, showed the +same thought, the same recognition of that half-cowardly, half-defiant +thump, though for so long we had not heard it. How it knocked away the +years, and brought younger days rushing back upon us! + +Mr. Faringfield's face showed a sweep of conjectures, ranging from +that of Ned's being in New York in service of his cause, to that of +his being there as a deserter from it. Margaret flushed a moment, and +then composed herself with an effort, for whatever issue this +unexpected arrival might portend. The rest of us waited in a mere +wonder touched with the old disquieting dread of painful scenes. + +Old Noah, jealous of the single duty that his years had left him, and +resentful of its frequent usurpation by Falconer's servant, always +stayed up to attend the door till the last of the family had retired. +We now heard him shuffling through the hall, heard the movement of the +lock, and then instantly a heavy tread that covered the sound of +Noah's. The parlour door from the hall was flung open, and in strode +the verification of our thoughts. + +Ned's clothes were briar-torn and mud-spattered; his face was haggard, +his hair unkempt, his left shoulder humped up and held stiff. He +stopped near the door, and stared from face to face, frowning because +of the sudden invasion of his eyes by the bright candlelight. When his +glance fell upon Margaret, it rested; and thereupon, just as if he +were not returned from an absence of three years and more, and +heedless of the rest of us, confining his address to her alone, he +bellowed, with a most malignant expression of face and voice: + +"So you played a fine game with us, my lady--luring us into the dirty +scheme, and then turning around and setting your husband on us in the +act! I see through it all now, you underhanded, double-dealing slut!" + +"Are you speaking to me, sir?" asked Margaret, with dignity. + +"Of course I am; and don't think I'll hold my tongue because of these +people. Let 'em hear it all, I don't care. It's all up now, and I'm a +hanged man if ever I go near the American camp again. But I'm safe +here in New York, though I was damn' near being shot when I first came +into the British lines. But I've been before General Knyphausen,[7] +and been identified, and been acknowledged by your Captain Falconer as +the man that worked your cursed plot at t'other end; and I've been let +go free--though I'm under watch, no doubt. So you see there's naught +to hinder me exposing you for what you are--the woman that mothered a +British plot, and worked her trusting brother into it, and then +betrayed him to her husband." + +"That's a lie!" cried Margaret, crimson in the face. + +"What does all this mean?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, rising. + +Paying no attention to his father, Edward retorted upon Margaret, who +also rose, and who stood between him and the rest of us: + +"A lie, is it? Perhaps you can make General Knyphausen and Captain +Falconer believe that, now I've told 'em whose cursed husband it was +that attacked me at the meeting-place, and alarmed the camp. You +didn't think I'd live to tell the tale, did you? You thought to hear +of my being hanged, and your husband promoted for his services, and so +two birds killed with one stone! But providence had a word to say +about that. The Lord is never on the side of plotters and traitors, +let me tell you, and here I am to outface you. A lie, is it? A lie +that your husband spoiled the scheme? Why, you brazen hussy, he came +from New York that very night--he told me so himself! He had seen you, +and you had told him all, I'll lay a thousand guineas!" + +'Twas at the time a puzzle to me that Margaret should condescend to +explanations with him as she forthwith did. But I now see how, +realising that proofs of Philip's visit might turn up and seem to bear +out Ned's accusation, she must have felt the need of putting herself +instantly right with Tom and me, lest she might eventually find +herself wrong with General Clinton and Captain Falconer. + +"I own that Philip saw me that night," she said, with a self-control +compelled by her perilous situation. "He came here by stealth, and +took me by surprise. He found reason to suspect our plot, but till now +I never knew 'twas really he that put the rebels on their guard. I +thought he would be too late. 'Twas through no intention of mine that +he guessed what was afoot. I never told Tom and Bert" (these words +were meant for our ears) "--or Captain Falconer--of his visit, for +fear they might think, as you seem to, that I was to blame. That's all +the truth, and we shall see whether Captain Falconer will believe you +or me." + +Here Mr. Faringfield, whose patience at being so far ignored, though +'twas supported by the hope of receiving the desired enlightenment +from their mutual speeches, was at length exhausted, put in with some +severity. + +"Pray, let us into these mysteries, one of you. Margaret, what is it I +hear, of a visit from Philip? of a British plot? By heaven, if I +thought--but explain the matter, if you please." + +"I have no right to," said she, her face more and more suffused with +red. "'Tis not my secret alone; others are concerned." + +"It appears," rejoined Mr. Faringfield, "it is a secret that abides in +my house, and therefore I have a right to its acquaintance. I command +you to explain." + +"Command?" she echoed lightly, with astonishment. "Is a married woman +subject to her father's commands?" + +"An inmate of my house is subject to my commands," he replied, +betraying his hidden wrath by a dark look. + +"I beg your pardon," said she. "That part of the house which Philip +has paid, or will pay, for my living in, is my own, for the time +being. I shall go there--" + +"You shall not leave this room," cried her father, stalking toward the +door. "You fall back upon Philip's name. Very well, he has delegated +the care of you to me in his absence. 'Tis time I should represent his +authority over you, when I hear of your plotting against his country." + +"I have a right to be loyal to the king, above the authority of a +husband." + +"If your loyalty extends to plotting against your husband's cause, you +have not the right under my roof--or under Philip Winwood's part of +it. I will know what this scheme is, that you have been engaged in." + +"Not from me!" said Margaret, with a resolution that gave a new, +unfamiliar aspect to so charmingly feminine a creature. + +"Oh, let her alone, father," put in Ned, ludicrously ready for the +faintest opportunity either to put his father under obligation or to +bring down Margaret. "I'll be frank with you. I've no reason to hide +what's past and gone. She and Captain Falconer had a plan to make +Washington a prisoner, by a night expedition from New York, and some +help in our camp--" + +"Which you were to give, I see, you treacherous scoundrel!" said his +father, with contempt. + +"Oh, now, no hard names, sir. You see, several of us--some good +patriots, too, with the country's best interests at heart--couldn't +swallow this French alliance; we saw that if we ever did win by it, we +should only be exchanging tyrants of our own blood for tyrants of +frog-eaters. We began to think England would take us back on good +terms if the war could be ended; and we considered the state of the +country, the interests of trade--indeed, 'twas chiefly the thought of +_your_ business, the hope of seeing it what it once was, that drove +_me_ into the thing." + +"You wretched hypocrite!" interposed Mr. Faringfield. + +"Oh, well; misunderstand me, as usual. Call me names, if you like. I'm +only telling the truth, and what you wished to know--what _she_ +wouldn't tell you. I'm not as bad as some; I can up and confess, when +all's over. Well, as I was about to say, we had everything ready, and +the night was set; and then, all of a sudden, Phil Winwood swoops down +on me; treats me in a most unbrotherly fashion, I must say" (Ned cast +an oblique look at his embarrassed shoulder); "and alarmed the camp. +And when the British party rode up, instead of catching Washington +they caught hell. And I leave it to you, sir, whether your daughter +there, after playing the traitor to her husband's cause, for the sake +of her lover; didn't turn around and play the traitor to her own game, +for the benefit of her husband, and the ruin of her brother. Such +damnableness!" + +"'For the sake of her lover,'" Mr. Faringfield repeated. "What do you +mean by that, sir?" The phrase, indeed, had given us all a +disagreeable start. + +"What I say, sir. How could he be otherwise? I guessed it before; and +I became sure of it this evening, from the way he spoke of her at +General Knyphausen's quarters." + +"What a lie!" cried Margaret. "Captain Falconer is a gentleman; he's +not of a kind to talk about women who have given him no reason to do +so. 'Tis ridiculous! You maligning villain!" + +"Oh, 'twasn't what he said, my dear; 'twas his manner whenever he +mentioned you. When a man like him handles a woman's name so +delicate-like, as if 'twas glass and might break--so grave-like, as if +she was a sacred subject--it means she's put herself on his +generosity." + +Margaret affected a derisive laugh, as at her brother's pretensions to +wisdom. + +"Oh, I know all the stages," he continued, watching her with a +malicious calmness of self-confidence. "When gentry of his sort are +first struck with a lady, but not very deep, they speak out their +admiration bold and gallant; when they find they're hit seriously, but +haven't made sure of her, they speak of her with make-believe +carelessness or mere respect: they don't like to show how far gone +they are. But when she's come to an understanding with 'em, and put +'em under obligations and responsibilities--it's only then they touch +her name so tender and considerate, as if it was so fragile. But that +stage doesn't last for ever, my young lady--bear that in mind!" + +"You insolent wretch!" said Margaret, ready to cry with rage and +confusion. + +"This is outrageous," ventured Mrs. Faringfield, daring to look her +indignation at Ned. "William, how can you tolerate such things said +about your daughter?" + +But Mr. Faringfield had been studying his daughter's countenance all +the while. Alas for Margaret, she had never given pains to the art of +dissimulation, or taken the trouble to learn hypocrisy, or even +studied self-control: a negligence common to beauties, who rely upon +their charms to carry them through all emergencies without resort to +shifts. She was equal to a necessary lie that had not to be maintained +with labour, or to a pretence requiring little effort and encountering +no suspicion, but to the concealment of her feelings when she was +openly put to the question, her powers were inadequate. If ever a +human face served its owner ill, by apparently confessing guilt, where +only folly existed, Margaret's did so now. + +"What I may think of the rascal who says these things," replied Mr. +Faringfield, with the unnatural quietness that betrays a tumult of +inward feelings, "I will tolerate them till I am sure they are false." +His eyes were still fixed on Margaret. + +"What!" said she, a little hysterically. "Do you pay attention to the +slanders of such a fellow? To an accusation like that, made on the +mere strength of a gentleman's manner of mentioning me?" + +"No, but I pay attention to your manner of receiving the accusation: +your telltale face, your embarrassment--" + +"'Tis my anger--" + +"There's an anger of innocence, and an anger of guilt. I would your +anger had shown more of contempt than of confusion." Alas! he knew +naught of half-guilt and _its_ manifestations. + +"How can you talk so?--I won't listen--such insulting +innuendoes!--even if you are my father--why, this knave himself says I +betrayed Captain Falconer's scheme: how could he think that, if--" + +"That proves nothing," said Ned, with a contemptuous grin. "Women do +unaccountable things. A streak of repentance, maybe; or a lovers' +quarrel. The point is, a woman like you wouldn't have entered into a +scheme like that, with a man like him, if there hadn't already been a +pretty close understanding of another kind. Oh, I know your whole +damn' sex, begad!--no offence to these other ladies." + +"William, this is scandalous!" cried Mrs. Faringfield. My mother, too, +looked what it was not her place to speak. As for Tom and me, we had +to defer to Mr. Faringfield; and so had Cornelius, who was very +solemn, with an uneasy frown between his white eyebrows. Poor Fanny, +most sensitive to disagreeable scenes, sat in self-effacement and mute +distress. + +Mr. Faringfield, not replying to his wife, took a turn up and down the +room, apparently in great mental perplexity and dismay. + +Suddenly he was a transformed man. Pale with wrath, his lips moving +spasmodically, his arms trembling, he turned upon Margaret, grasped +her by the shoulders, and in a choked, half-articulate voice demanded: + +"Tell the truth! Is it so--this shame--crime? Speak! I will shake the +truth from you!" + +"Father! Don't!" she screamed, terrified by his look; and from his +searching gaze, she essayed to hide, by covering her face with her +hands, the secret her conscience magnified so as to forbid confession +and denial alike. I am glad to recall this act of womanhood, which +showed her inability to brazen all accusation out. + +But Mr. Faringfield saw no palliating circumstance in this evidence of +womanly feeling. Seeing in it only an admission of guilt, he raised +his arms convulsively for a moment as if he would strike her down with +his hands, or crush her throat with them. But, overcoming this +impulse, he drew back so as to be out of reach of her, and said, in a +low voice shaken with passion: + +"Go! From my house, I mean--my roof--and from Philip's part of it. +God! that a child of mine should plot against my country, for +England--that was enough; but to be false to her husband, too--false +to Philip! I will own no such treason! I turn you out, I cast you off! +Not another hour in my house, not another minute! You are not my +daughter, not Philip's wife!--You are a thing I will not name! We +disown you. Go, I bid you; let me never see you again!" + +She had not offered speech or motion; and she continued to stand +motionless, regarding her father in fear and sorrow. + +"I tell you to leave this house!" he added, in a slightly higher and +quicker voice. "Do you wait for me to thrust you out?" + +She slowly moved toward the door. But her mother ran and caught her +arm, and stood between her and Mr. Faringfield. + +"William!" said the lady. "Consider--the poor child--your favourite, +she was--you mustn't send her out. I'm sure Philip wouldn't have you +do this, for all she might seem guilty of." + +"Ay, the lad is too kind of heart. So much the worse her treason to +him! She _shall_ go; and you, madam, will not interfere. 'Tis for me +to command. Be pleased to step aside!" + +His passion had swiftly frozen into an implacable sternness which +struck fear to the childish heart of his wife, and she obeyed him +dumbly. Dropping weakly upon a chair, she added her sobs to those of +Fanny, which had begun to break plaintively upon the tragic silence. + +Margaret raised her glance from the floor, in a kind of wistful +leave-taking, to us who looked on and pitied her. + +"Indeed, sir," began Mr. Cornelius softly, rising and taking a step +toward Mr. Faringfield. But the latter cut his good intention short, +by a mandatory gesture and the harshly spoken words: + +"No protests, sir; no intercessions. I am aware of what I do." + +"But at midnight, sir. Think of it. Where can she find shelter at this +hour?" + +"Why," put in my mother, "in my house, and welcome, if she _must_ +leave this one." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Russell," said Margaret, in a stricken voice. "For +the time being, I shall be glad--" + +"For all time, if you wish," replied my mother. "And we shall have +your things moved over tomorrow." + +"By the Lord, sis," cried Ned, with a sudden friendliness quite +astonishing after the part he had taken, and to be accounted for only +by the idea that had struck him, "here's a blessing in disguise! +There's a ship sails next Wednesday--so I found out this evening--and +damn me if you sha'n't go to London with me! That's the kind of a +forgiving brother I am!" + +She had utterly ignored his first words, but when he reached the +point, she looked at him thoughtfully, with a check upon her +resentment. She made no reply, however; but he had not missed her +expression. Tom and I exchanged side glances, remembering Ned's former +wish that he might imitate his Irish friend by taking his sister to +London to catch a fortune with. As for Margaret, as matters stood, it +would be something to go to London, relying on her beauty. I fancied I +saw that thought in her look. + +Mr. Faringfield, who had heard with cold heedlessness my mother's +offer and Ned's, now rang the bell. Noah appeared, with a sad, +affrighted face--he had been listening at the door--and cast a furtive +glance at Margaret, in token of commiseration. + +"Bring Mrs. Winwood's cloak," said Mr. Faringfield to the old negro. +"Then open the door for her and Mr. Edward." + +While Noah was absent on this errand, and Margaret waited passively, +Tom went to her, kissed her cheek, and then came away without a word. + +"You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear," said Mrs. +Faringfield, in tears, "and we can see you every day." + +"Certainly, for the present," replied Margaret, who did not weep, but +spoke in a singularly gentle voice. + +"And I, too, for to-night, with my best thanks," added Ned, who had +not been invited, but whom my mother preferred not to refuse. + +Noah brought in the cloak, and placed it around Madge with an unusual +attentiveness, prolonging the slight service to its utmost possible +length, and keeping an eye for any sign of relenting on the part of +his master. + +My mother and I stood waiting for Margaret, while Mrs. Faringfield and +Fanny weepingly embraced her. That done, and with a good-night for Tom +and Mr. Cornelius, but not a word or a look for her father, who stood +as silent and motionless as marble, she laid her hand softly upon my +arm, and we went forth, leaving my mother to the unwelcome escort of +Ned. The door closed upon us four--'twas the last time it ever closed +upon one of us--and in a few seconds we were at our steps. And who +should come along at that moment, on his way to his quarters, but +Captain Falconer? He stopped, in pleased surprise, and, peering at our +faces in the darkness, asked in his gay, good-natured way what fun was +afoot. + +"Not much fun," said Margaret. "I have just left my father's house, at +his command." + +He stood in a kind of daze. As it was very cold, we bade him good +night, and went in. Reopening the door, and looking out, I saw him +proceeding homeward, his head averted in a meditative attitude. I knew +not till the next day what occurred when he arrived in the Faringfield +hall. + +"Sir," said Tom Faringfield, stepping forth from where he had been +leaning against the stair-post, "I must speak low, because my parents +and sister are in the parlour there, and I don't wish them to hear--" + +"With all my heart," replied Falconer. "Won't you come into my room, +and have a glass of wine?" + +"No, sir. If I had a glass of wine, I should only waste it by throwing +it in your face. All I have to say is, that you are a scoundrel, and I +desire an opportunity to kill you as soon as may be--" + +"Tut, tut, my dear lad--" + +"I'll think of a pretext, and send my friend to you to-morrow," added +Tom, and, turning his back, went quietly up-stairs to his room; where, +having locked the door, he fell face forward upon his bed, and cried +like a heart-broken child. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_In Which There Is a Flight by Sea, and a Duel by Moonlight._ + + +It appeared, from Ned Faringfield's account of himself, that after his +encounter with Philip, and his fall from the shock of his wound, he +had awakened to a sense of being still alive, and had made his way to +the house of a farmer, whose wife took pity on him and nursed him in +concealment to recovery. He then travelled through the woods to Staten +Island, where, declaring himself a deserter from the rebel army, he +demanded to be taken before the British commander. + +Being conveyed to headquarters in the Kennedy House, near the bottom +of the Broadway, he told his story, whereupon witnesses to his +identity were easily found, and, Captain Falconer having been brought +to confront him, he was released from bodily custody. He must have had +a private interview with Falconer, and, perhaps, obtained money from +him, before he came to the Faringfield house to vent his +disappointment upon Madge. Or else he had got money from some other +source; he may have gambled with what part of his pay he received in +the early campaigns. He may, on some occasion, have safely violated +Washington's orders against private robbery under the cover of war. He +may have had secret dealings with the "Skinners" or other unattached +marauders. In any case, his assured manner of offering Madge a passage +to England with him, showed that he possessed the necessary means. + +He had instantly recognised a critical moment of Madge's life, the +moment when she found herself suddenly deprived of all resource but a +friendly hospitality which she was too proud to make long use of, as a +heaven-sent occasion for his ends. At another time, he would not have +thought of making Madge his partner in an enterprise like the +Irishman's--he feared her too much, and was too sensible of her +dislike and contempt. + +He set forth his scheme to her the next day, taking her acquiescence +for granted. She listened quietly, without expressing her thoughts; +but she neither consented nor refused. Ned, however, made full +arrangements for their voyage; considering it the crowning godsend of +a providential situation, that a vessel was so soon to make the trip, +notwithstanding the unlikely time of year. When Margaret's things were +brought over to our house, he advised her to begin packing at once, +and he even busied himself in procuring additional trunks from his +mother and mine, that she might be able to take all her gowns to +London. The importance of this, and of leaving none of her jewelry +behind, he most earnestly impressed upon her. + +Yet she did not immediately set about packing, Ned probably had +moments of misgiving, and of secret cursing, when he feared he might +be reckoning without his host. The rest of us, at the time, knew +nothing of what passed between the two: he pretended that the extra +trunks were for some mysterious baggage of his own: nor did we then +know what passed between her and Captain Falconer late in the day, and +upon which, indeed, her decision regarding Ned's offer depended. + +She had watched at our window for the captain's passing. When at +length he appeared, she was standing so close to the glass, her eyes +so unmistakably met his side-look, that he could not pretend he had +not seen her. As he bowed with most respectful civility, she beckoned +him with a single movement of a finger, and went, herself, to let him +in. When he had followed her into our parlour, his manner was +outwardly of the most delicate consideration, but she thought she saw +beneath it a certain uneasiness. They spoke awhile of her removal from +her father's house; but he avoided question as to its cause, or as to +her intentions. At last, she said directly, with assumed lightness: + +"I think of going to London with my brother, on the _Phoebe_." + +She was watching him closely: his face brightened wonderfully. + +"I vow, you could do nothing better," he said. "_There_ is _your_ +world. I've always declared you were a stranger in this far-off land. +'Tis time you found your proper element. I can't help confessing it; +'tis due to you I should confess it--though alas for us whom you leave +in New York!" + +She looked at him for a moment, with a slight curling of the lip; +witnessed his recovery from the fear that she might throw herself upon +his care; saw his comfort at being relieved of a possible burden he +was not prepared to assume; and then said, very quietly: + +"I think Mrs. Russell is coming. You had best go." + +With a look of gallant adoration, he made to kiss her hand first. But +she drew it away, and put her finger to her lip, as if to bid him +depart unheard. When he had left the house, she fell upon the sofa and +wept, but only for wounded vanity, for chagrin that she had exposed +her heart to one of those gentry who will adore a woman until there is +danger of her becoming an embarrassment. + +Before long, she arose, and dried her eyes, and went up-stairs to pack +her trunks. Thus ended this very light affair of the heart; which had +so heavy consequences for so many people. + +But Captain Falconer's inward serenity was not to escape with this +unexpectedly easy ordeal. When he reached his room, he found me +awaiting him, as the representative of Tom Faringfield. I had, in +obedience to my sense of duty, put forth a few conventional +dissuasions against Tom's fighting the captain; and had presumed to +hint that I was nearer to him in years and experience than Tom was. +But the boy replied with only a short, bitter laugh at the assured +futility of my attempts. Plainly, if there was to be fighting over +this matter, I ought not to seek a usurpation of Tom's right. And +fighting there would be, I knew, whether I said yea or nay. Since Tom +must have a second, that place was mine. And I felt, too, with a young +man's foolish faith in poetic justice, that the right must win; that +his adversary's superiority in age--and therefore undoubtedly in +practice, Falconer being the man he was--would not avail against an +honest lad avenging the probity of a sister. And so I yielded +countenance to the affair, and went, as soon as my duty permitted, to +wait upon Captain Falconer. + +"Why," said he, when I had but half told my errand, "I was led to +expect this. The young gentleman called me a harsh name, which I'm +willing to overlook. But he finds himself aggrieved, and, knowing him +as I do, I make no doubt he will not be content till we have a bout or +two. If I refuse, he will dog me, I believe, and make trouble for both +of us, till I grant him what he asks. So the sooner 'tis done, the +better, I suppose. But lookye, Mr. Russell, 'tis sure to be an +embarrassing business. If one or other of us _should_ be hurt, there'd +be the devil to pay, you know. I dare say the General would be quite +obdurate, and go the whole length of the law. There's that to be +thought of. Have a glass of wine, and think of it." + +Tom and I had already thought of it. We had been longer in New York +than the captain had, and we knew how the embarrassment to which he +alluded could be provided against. + +"'Tis very simple," said I, letting him drink alone, which it was not +easy to do, he was still so likeable a man. "We can go from +Kingsbridge as if we meant to join Captain De Lancey in another of his +raids. And we can find some spot outside the lines; and if any one is +hurt, we can give it out as the work of rebel irregulars who attacked +us." + +He regarded me silently a moment, and then said the plan seemed a good +one, and that he would name a second with whom I could arrange +details. Whereupon, dismissing the subject with a civil expression of +regret that Tom should think himself affronted, he went on to speak of +the weather, as if a gentleman ought not to treat a mere duel as a +matter of deep concern. + +I came away wishing it were not so hard to hate him. The second with +whom I at length conferred--for our duties permitted not a prompt +despatching of the affair, and moreover Captain Falconer's disposition +was to conduct it with the gentlemanly leisure its pretended +unimportance allowed--was Lieutenant Hugh Campbell, one of several +officers of that name who served in the Highland regiment that had +been stationed earlier at Valentine's Hill; he therefore knew the +debatable country beyond Kingsbridge as well as I. He was a mere +youth, a serious-minded Scot, and of a different sort from Captain +Falconer: 'twas one of the elegant captain's ways, and evidence of his +breadth of mind, to make friends of men of other kinds than his own. +Young Campbell and I, comparing our recollections of the country, +found that we both knew of a little open hollow hidden by thickets, +quite near the Kingsbridge tavern, which would serve the purpose. +Captain Falconer's duties made a daylight meeting difficult to +contrive without exposing his movements to curiosity, and other +considerations of secrecy likewise preferred a nocturnal affair. We +therefore planned that the four of us, and an Irish surgeon named +McLaughlin, should appear at the Kingsbridge tavern at ten o'clock on +a certain night for which the almanac promised moonlight, and should +repair to the meeting-place when the moon should be high enough to +illumine the hollow. The weapons were to be rapiers. The preliminary +appearance at the tavern was to save a useless cold wait in case one +of the participants should, by some freak of duty, be hindered from +the appointment; in which event, or in that of a cloudy sky, the +matter should be postponed to the next night, and so on. + +The duel was to occur upon a Wednesday night. On that afternoon I was +in the town, having carried some despatches from our outpost to +General De Lancey, and thence to General Knyphausen; and I was free +for a few minutes to go home and see my mother. + +"What do you think?" she began, handing me a cup of tea as soon as I +had strode to the parlour fire-place. + +"I think this hot tea is mighty welcome," said I, "and that my left +ear is nigh frozen. What else?" + +"Margaret has gone," she replied, beginning to rub my ear vigorously. + +"Gone! Where?" I looked around as if to make sure there was no sign of +her in the room. + +"With Ned--on the _Phoebe_." + +"The deuce! How could you let her do it--you, and her mother, and +Fanny?" + +"We didn't know. I took some jelly over to old Miss Watts--she's very +feeble--and Madge and Ned went while I was out; they had their trunks +carted off at the same time. 'Twasn't for an hour or two I became +curious why she kept her room, as I thought; and when I went up to +see, the room was empty. There were two letters there from her, one to +me and one to her mother. She said she left in that way, to save the +pain of farewells, and to avoid our useless persuasions against her +going. Isn't it terrible?--poor child! Why it seems only yesterday--" +And my good mother's lips drew suddenly down at the corners, and she +began to sniff spasmodically. + +"But is it too late?" I asked, in a suddenly quieted voice. That the +brightness and beauty of Madge, which had been a part of my world +since I could remember, should have gone from about us, all in a +moment!--'twas a new thought, and a strange one. What a blank she +left, what a dulness! + +"Too late, heaven knows!" said my mother, drying her eyes with a +handkerchief, and speaking brokenly. "As soon as Mrs. Faringfield read +the letters, which I had taken over at once, Fanny and Mr. Cornelius +started running for the wharves. But when they got there, the _Phoebe_ +wasn't in sight. It had sailed immediately their trunks were aboard, I +suppose. Oh, to think of pretty Madge--what will become of her in that +great, bad London?" + +"She has made her plans, no doubt, and knows what she is doing," said +I, with a little bitterness. "Poor Phil! Her father is much to blame." + +When I told Tom, as soon as I reached the outpost, he gave a sudden, +ghastly, startled look; then collected himself, and glanced at the +sword with which he meant to fight that night. + +"Why, I was afraid she would go," said he, in a strained voice; and +that was all. + +Whenever I saw him during the rest of the evening, he was silent, +pale, a little shaky methought. He was not as I had been before my +maiden duel: blustering and gay, in a trance-like recklessness; +assuming self-confidence so well as to deceive even myself and carry +me buoyantly through. He seemed rather in suspense like that of a +lover who has to beg a stern father for a daughter's hand. As a slight +hurt will cause a man the greatest pain, and a severe injury produce +no greater, so will the apprehensions of a trivial ordeal equal in +effect those of a matter of life and death; there being a limit to +possible sensation, beyond which nature leaves us happily numb. +Sometimes, upon occasion, Tom smiled, but with a stiffness of +countenance; when he laughed, it was in a short, jerky, mechanical +manner. As for me, I was in different mood from that preceding my own +first trial of arms: I was now overcast in spirit, tremulous, full of +misgivings. + +The moon did not disappoint us as we set out for the tavern. There +were but a few fleecy clouds, and these not of an opaqueness to darken +its beams when they passed across it. The snow was frozen hard in the +fields, and worn down in the road. The frost in the air bit our +nostrils, and we now and again worked our countenances into strange +grimaces, to free them from the sensation of being frozen hard. + +"'Tis a beautiful night," said Tom, speaking in more composure than he +had shown during the early evening. The moonlight had a calming +effect, as the clear air had a bracing one. His eyes roamed the sky, +and then the moonlit, snow-clad earth--hillock and valley, wood and +pond, solitary house bespeaking indoor comfort, and a glimpse of the +dark river in the distance--and he added: + +"What a fine world it is!" + +When we entered the warm tap-room of the tavern--the house above +Kingsbridge, outside the barriers where the passes were examined and +the people searched who were allowed entrance and departure; not +Hyatt's tavern, South of the bridge--we found a number of subalterns +there, some German, some British, some half-drunk, some playing cards. +Our Irish surgeon sat in a corner, reading a book--I think 'twas a +Latin author--by the light of a tallow candle. He nodded to us +indifferently, as if he had no engagement with us, and continued to +read. Tom and I ordered a hot rum punch mixed for us, and stood at the +bar to drink it. + +"You look pale and shaky, you two," said the tavern-keeper, who +himself waited upon us. + +"'Tis the cold," said I. "We're not all of your constitution, to walk +around in shirt-sleeves this weather." + +"Why," says the landlord, "I go by the almanac. 'Tis time for the +January thaw, 'cordin' to that. Something afoot to-night, eh? One o' +them little trips up the river, or out East Chester way, with De +Lancey's men, I reckon?" + +We said nothing, but wisely looked significant, and the host grinned. + +"More like 'tis a matter of wenches," put in a half-drunken ensign +standing beside us at the bar. "That's the only business to bring a +gentleman out such a cursed night. Damn such a vile country, cold as +hell in winter, and hot as hell in summer! Damn it and sink it! and +fill up my glass, landlord. Roast me dead if _I_ stick _my_ nose +outdoors to-night!" + +"A braw, fine nicht, the nicht, gentlemen," said a sober, ruddy-faced +Scot, very gravely, with a lofty contempt for the other's remarks. +"Guid, hamelike weather." + +But the feelings and thoughts prevailing in the tap-room were not in +tune with those agitating our hearts, and as soon as Captain Falconer +and his friend came in, we took our leave, exchanging a purposely +careless greeting with the newcomers. We turned in silence from the +road, crossed a little sparsely wooded hill, and arrived in the +thicket-screened hollow. + +'Twas in silence we had come. I had felt there was much I would like, +and ought, to say, but something in Tom's mood or mine, or in the +situation, benumbed my thoughts so they would not come forth, or +jumbled them so I knew not where to begin. Arrived upon the ground +with a palpitating sense of the nearness of the event, we found +ourselves still less fit for utterance of the things deepest in our +minds. + +"There'll be some danger of slipping on the frozen snow," said I, +trying to assume a natural, even a cheerful, tone. + +"'Tis an even danger to both of us," said Tom, speaking quickly to +maintain a steadiness of voice, as a drunken man walks fast to avoid a +crookedness of gait. + +While we were tramping about to keep warm, the Irish surgeon came to +us through the bushes, vowing 'twas "the divvle's own weather, shure +enough, barrin' the hivvenly moonlight." Opening his capacious +greatcoat, he brought from concealment a small case, which Tom eyed +askance, and I regarded ominously, though it had but a mere +professional aspect to its owner. + +We soon heard the tread, and the low but easy voices, of Captain +Falconer and Lieutenant Campbell; who joined us with salutations, +graceful on Falconer's part, and naturally awkward on that of +Campbell. How I admired the unconcerned, leisurely manner in which +Falconer, having gone a little aloof from Tom and me, removed his +overcoat, laced coat, and waistcoat, giving a playful shiver, +purposely exaggerated, as he stood in his ruffled shirt and +well-fitting boots and breeches. I was awkward in helping Tom off with +his outer clothes. The moonlight, making everything in the hollow +well-nigh as visible as by day, showed Tom's face to be white, his +eyes wide-open and darkly radiant; while in Falconer's case it +revealed a countenance as pleasant and gracious as ever, eyes neither +set nor restless. + +Campbell and I perfunctorily compared the swords, gave them a bend or +two, and handed them to the principals. We then stood back. Doctor +McLaughlin looked on with a mild interest. There was a low cry, a ring +of steel, and the two men were at it. + +I recall the moonshine upon their faces, the swift dartings of their +faintly luminous blades, their strangely altering shadows on the snow +as they moved, the steady attention of us who looked on, the moan of +the wind among the trees upon the neighbouring heights, the sound of +the men's tramping on the crusted snow, the clear clink of their +weapons, sometimes the noise of their breathing. They eyed each other +steadfastly, seeming to grudge the momentary winks enforced by nature. +Falconer's purpose, I began to see, was but to defend himself and +disarm his opponent. But Tom gave him much to do, making lightning +thrusts with a suddenness and persistence that began at length to try +the elder man. So they kept it up till I should have thought they were +tired out. + +Suddenly Tom made a powerful lunge that seemed to find the captain +unready. But the latter, with a sharp involuntary cry, got his blade +up in time to divert the point, by pure accident, with the guard of +his hilt. His own point was thus turned straight toward his +antagonist; and Tom, throwing his weight after his weapon, impaled +himself upon the captain's. For an infinitesimal point of time, till +the sword was drawn out, the lad seemed to stand upon his toes, +leaning forward, looking toward the sky with a strange surprise upon +his face, eyes and mouth alike open. And then he collapsed as if his +legs and body were but empty rags; and fell in a huddle upon the snow: +with a convulsive movement he stretched himself back to the shape of a +man; and lay perfectly still. + +The captain bent over him with astonishment. The surgeon ran to him, +and turned him flat upon his back. I was by this time kneeling +opposite the surgeon, who tore open Tom's shirts and examined his +body. + +"Bedad, gentlemen," said the Irishman sadly, in a moment, "he's beyont +the need of my profession. 'Tis well ye had that sthory ready, in case +of accident." + +I stared incredulously at the surgeon, and then buried my face upon +the dear body of the dead, mingling my wild tears with his blood. + +"Oh, Madge, Madge," thought I, "if you could see what your folly has +led to!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_Follows the Fortunes of Madge and Ned._ + + +But Madge could know nothing yet of that night's occurrence. She was +then many miles out to sea, her thoughts perhaps still lingering +behind with her old life, but bound soon to overtake her, and to pass +far ahead to the world she was sailing for, the world of her +long-cherished desires. + +I shall briefly relate a part of what she afterward recounted to me. +The voyage from New York to Bristol lasted six weeks. She suffered +much from her cramped quarters, from the cold weather, from +seasickness; but she bore up against her present afflictions, in the +hope of future compensations. She put away from her, with the facility +of an ambitious beauty, alike her regrets for the past, and her +misgivings of the future. + +Not to risk any increase of those misgivings, she refrained from +questioning Ned as to his resources, nor did she require of him a +minute exposition of his plans. She preferred to leave all to him and +to circumstance, considering that, once launched upon the sea of +London, and perfectly unrestricted as to her proceedings, she could +make shift to keep afloat. She had an earnest of the power of her +beauty, in its effect upon the ship's captain, who, in the absence of +passengers, was the only person aboard whose admiration was worth +playing for. She had the place of honour at his table, and in her +presence he was nothing but eyes and dumb confusion, while the +extraordinary measures he took for her comfort proclaimed him her +willing slave. + +She listened without objection or comment when Ned, in confidential +moods, forced his purposes upon her attention. + +"We'll make 'em stare, my dear," said he. "We'll make 'em open their +eyes a bit; just you wait! We'll find lodgings somewhere in the thick +of the town, and I'll take you to the theatres, and to walk in St. +James Park, and to the public assemblies, and wherever you're sure to +be seen. I wish 'twere Summer; then there'd be Vauxhall and Ranelagh, +and all that. 'Tis a bad time of year in London now; but we'll do our +best. There'll be young sparks of quality enough, to ask each other +who that goddess is, and that Venus, and that angel, and all that kind +of thing; and they'll be mad to make your acquaintance. They'll take +note of me, and when they see me at the coffee-houses and faro-tables, +they'll fall over one another in the rush to know me, and to be my +friends. And I'll pick out the best, and honour 'em with invitations +to call at our lodgings, and there'll be my pretty sister to mix a +punch for us, or pour out tea for us; and once we let 'em see we're as +good quality as any of 'em, and won't stand any damn' nonsense,' why, +you leave it to brother Ned to land a fat fish, that's all!" + +She had a fear that his operations might at length become offensive to +her taste, might stray from the line of her own ambitions; but she saw +good reason to await developments in silence; and to postpone +deviating from Ned's wishes, until they should cease to forward hers. + +Upon her landing at Bristol, and looking around with interest at the +shipping which reminded her of New York but to emphasise her feeling +of exile therefrom, her thrilling sense of being at last in the Old +World, abated her heaviness at leaving the ship which seemed the one +remaining tie with her former life. If ever a woman felt herself to be +entering upon life anew, and realised a necessity of blotting the past +from memory, it was she; and well it was that the novelty of her +surroundings, the sense of treading the soil whereon she had so long +pined to set foot, aided her resolution to banish from her mind all +that lay behind her. + +The time-worn, weather-beaten aspect of the town, its old streets +thronged with people of whom she was not known to a soul, would have +made her disconsolate, had she not forced herself to contemplate with +interest the omnipresent antiquity, to her American eyes so new. And +so, as she had heroically endured seasickness, she now fought bravely +against homesickness; and, in the end, as nearly conquered it as one +ever does. + +'Twas a cold ride by stage-coach to London, at that season; there were +few travellers in the coach, and those few were ill-natured with +discomfort, staring fiercely at the two strangers--whose strangeness +they instantly detected by some unconscious process--as if the pair +were responsible for the severe February weather, or guilty of some +unknown crime. At the inns where they stopped, for meals and +overnight, they were subjected to a protracted gazing on the part of +all who saw them--an inspection seemingly resentful or disapproving, +but indeed only curious. It irritated Madge, who asked Ned what the +cause might be. + +"Tut! Don't mind it," said he. "'Tis the way of the English, +everywhere but in London. They stare at strangers as if they was in +danger of being insulted by 'em, or having their pockets picked by +'em, or at best as if they was looking at some remarkable animal; but +they mean no harm by it." + +"How can they see we are strangers?" she queried. "We're dressed like +them." + +"God knows! Perhaps because we look more cheerful than they do, and +have a brisker way, and laugh easier," conjectured Ned. "But you'll +feel more at home in London." + +By the time she arrived in London, having slept in a different bed +each night after landing, and eaten at so many different inns each +day, Madge felt as if she had been a long while in England.[8] She +came to the town thus as to a haven of rest; and though she was still +gazed at for her beauty, it was not in that ceaseless and mistrustful +way in which she had been scrutinised from top to toe in the country; +moreover, the names of many of the streets and localities were +familiar to her, and in her thoughts she had already visited them: for +these reasons, which were more than Ned had taken account of, she did +indeed feel somewhat at home in London, as he had predicted. + +The night of their arrival was passed at the inn, in the Strand, where +the coach had set them down. The next morning Ned chose lodgings in +Craven Street: three rooms, constituting the entire first floor; which +Madge, though she thought the house had a dingy look, found +comfortable enough in their faded way; and wherein the two were +installed by noon. They spent the afternoon walking about the most +famous streets, returning to their lodgings for dinner. + +"I think," said Ned, while they were eating, "'twon't do any harm to +get on one of your best gowns, and your furbelows, and we'll go to the +play, and begin the campaign this very night." + +"Bless me, no! I'm tired to death with sightseeing," replied Madge. "I +could fall asleep this moment. Besides, who's here to dress my hair? I +couldn't go without a commode." + +"Oh, well, just as you like. Only be pleased to remember, ma'am, my +purse isn't a widow's mite--widow's cruse of oil, I mean, that runs +for ever. I've been at a great expense to bring you here, and pounds +and shillings don't rain from heaven like--like that stuff the Jews +lived on for forty years in the wilderness. The sooner we land our +fish, the sooner we'll know where the money's coming from. I sha'n't +be able to pay for lodgings and meals very long." + +"Why, 'tis a pretty pass if you've no more money--" + +"Well, it _is_ a pretty pass, and that's just what it is. I didn't +count the cost when I made the generous offer to bring you. Oh, we can +last a week or so yet, but the sooner something is done, the sooner we +shall be easy in our minds. On second thoughts, though, you'd better +go to bed and rest. It mightn't be well to flash on the town to-night, +looking fagged, and without your hair dressed, and all that. So you go +to bed and I'll go around and--call upon a few friends I made when I +was here before." + +Ned had so improved his attire, by acquisitions in New York, Bristol, +and London, that his appearance was now presentable in the haunts of +gentlemen. So he went out, leaving her alone. She could no longer +postpone meditating upon what was before her. + +Now that she viewed it for the first time in definite particulars, its +true aspect struck her with a sudden dismay. She was expected to do +nothing less than exhibit herself for sale, put herself up at auction +for the highest bidder, set out her charms as a bait. And when the +bait drew, and the bidders offered, and the buyer awaited--what then? +She would never, her pride alone would never let her, degrade herself +to a position at the very thought of which she caught her breath with +horror. Come what may, the man who purchased her must put the +transaction into the form of marriage. True, she was already married, +in the view of the law; but, with a woman's eye for essentials, she +felt her divorce from Philip already accomplished. The law, she +allowed, would have to be satisfied with matters of form: but that was +a detail to be observed when the time came; Philip would not oppose +obstacles. + +So she would let matters take their course, would wait upon +occurrences. In very truth, to put herself on view with intent of +catching a husband, of obtaining an establishment in life, was no more +than young ladies of fashion, of virtue, of piety, did continually, +under the skilled direction of the most estimable mothers. In Madge's +case, the only difference was, on the one side, the excuse of +necessity; on the other side, the encumbrance of her existing +marriage. But the latter could be removed, whereas the former would +daily increase. + +She must, therefore, benefit by Ned's operations as long as they did +not threaten to degrade her. By the time they did threaten so, she +would have gained some experience of her own, circumstances would have +arisen which she could turn to her use. Of actual destitution, never +having felt it, she could not conceive; and therefore she did not take +account of its possibility in her case. + +So, having recovered from her brief panic, she went to bed and slept +soundly. + +The next morning Ned was in jubilant spirits. His visit the previous +night had been to a gaminghouse in Covent Garden, and fortune had +showered him with benefactions. He saw the margin of time at their +disposal lengthened by several weeks. He bade his sister put herself +at her best, drank with her to their success, and went and engaged a +hairdresser and a maid. They went that night, in a hackney-coach, to +the play at Drury Lane. + +The open-mouthed gazing of her new maid, the deftly spoken admiration +of her hairdresser, and the mirror upon her dressing-table, had +prepared Madge for triumph. Her expectations were not disappointed, +but they were almost forgotten. Her pleasure at sight of the restless, +chattering crowd; her interest in the performance; her joy in seeing, +in fine: supplanted half the consciousness of being seen. But she was, +indeed, stared at from all parts of the house; people looked, and +nudged one another; and the powdered bucks and beauties in the +side-boxes, glancing up, forgot their own looks in examining hers. + +Ned was elated beyond measure. He praised her all the way home in the +coach, and when they stood at last on the step of their lodging-house, +he waited a moment before going in, and looked back toward the Strand, +half-thinking that some susceptible and adventurous admirer might have +followed their conveyance to the door. + +The next day, Sunday, he took her to church, at St. James's in +Piccadilly, where they had difficulty in getting seats, and where +several pious dowagers were scandalised at the inattention of their +male company to the service. Ned walked out alone in the afternoon, +but, to his surprise, he was not accosted by any gentleman pretending +to recognise him as some one else, as a means of knowing him as +himself. + +On Monday he made himself seen at numerous coffee-houses and taverns, +but, although he came upon two or three faces that he had noted in the +theatre, no one looked at him with any sign of recollection. "Well, +well," thought he, and afterward said to Madge, "in time they will +come to remember me as the lovely creature's escort; at first their +eyes will be all for the lovely creature herself." + +They went to Covent Garden that evening, and to the Haymarket the +next; and subsequently to public assemblies: Madge everywhere +arresting attention, and exciting whispers and elbowings among +observers wherever she passed. At the public balls, she was asked to +dance, by fellows of whom neither she nor Ned approved, but who, Ned +finally came to urge, might be useful acquaintances as leading to +better ones. But she found all of them contemptible, and would not +encourage any of them. + +"If we could only get an invite to some private entertainment, the +thing would be done in a jiffy," said Ned, "but damn it, you won't +lead on any of these fellows--sure they must know ladies to whom they +would mention you." + +"I shouldn't think much of ladies that sought acquaintances on _their_ +recommendation." + +"Why, curse it, we must begin somewhere, to get in." + +"If we began where these could open the doors, I warrant we shouldn't +get very far in." + +"Rat me if I understand why the men that are taken with you at the +play, and elsewhere--real gentlemen of quality, some of 'em--never try +to follow you up through me. I've put myself in their way, the Lord +knows. Maybe they think I'm your husband. Curse it, there _is_ a +difficulty! If you walked alone, in St. James Park, or past the +clubs--?" + +"You scoundrel, do you think I've come to that?" + +Her look advised him not to pursue his last suggestion. By this time +his expectations from their public appearances together had been sadly +dampened. They must make acquaintances; creditable ones, that is to +say, for of another kind he had enough and to spare. + +But at last, after some weeks, during which he remained unapproached, +and at the end of which he came to a belated perception of the +insuperable barrier between the elect and the undesirable, and of his +own identity with the latter class, he decided he must fall back upon +his friends for what they might be worth. He had undergone many snubs +in his efforts to thrust himself upon fine gentlemen in taverns, +coffee-houses, and gaming-places. As for Madge, her solitude had been +mitigated by her enjoyment of plays and sights, of the external +glimpses of that life to which her entrance seemed impossible. + +Ned began therefore to bring his associates to their lodgings: +chiefly, a gambling barrister of Lincoln's Inn, a drunken cashiered +captain of marines, and a naval surgeon's mate with an unhealthy +outbreak on his face. One meeting with each rascal sufficed to make +Madge deny her presence upon his next visit. At this Ned raged, +declaring, that these gentlemen, though themselves in adverse +circumstances, had relations and friends among the quality or the +wealthy. And at length he triumphantly made good his assertion by +introducing a youth to whom the barrister had introduced him, and who, +he whispered to Madge, though not blessed with a title, was the heir +in prospect of an immense fortune. It came out that he was the son of +a prosperous fishmonger in the city. + +He was a fat, good-humoured fellow, expensively dressed, and clean, +being in all these points an exception among Ned's acquaintances. +Madge found him, as a mere acquaintance, more amusing than +intolerable; but as a possible husband, not to be thought of save with +laughter and contempt. + +Her refusal to consider him in the desired light, made Ned very wroth; +and in revenge he went out, and, between drink and gaming, rid himself +of every penny he possessed. He thereupon begged that Madge would let +him pawn some of her jewelry. She refused to do so; until their +landlady threatened ejection and suit. + +After that, matters went from bad to worse. With part of the money +obtained upon what trinkets she gave him, Ned tried to repair his +fortunes at the gaming-table; and that failing, he consoled himself in +drunkenness. More of her valuables were demanded; yielded up after +terrible quarrels with Ned, and humiliating scenes with the landlady. +The visits to the play ceased, the maid was discharged, the +hairdresser was no more brought into requisition. Their fall to +destitution was worthy of the harebrained design, the bungling +conduct, of Ned; the childish inexperience, the blind confidence, of +Madge. 'Twas a fall as progressive as a series of prints by Hogarth. +The brother was perpetually in liquor; he no longer took Madge out +with him. Often he stayed away nights and days at a time. + +She resolved to entrust nothing further to him, but to dispose of her +ornaments herself, and to devote the proceeds to necessities alone, as +he had wasted them in drink and gaming. When she acted upon this +resolution, he behaved like a madman. Fearful quarrels ensued. He +blamed her for defeating his plans, she upbraided him for alluring her +to London. Recriminations and threats filled the hours when he was +with her; loneliness and despondency occupied the periods of his +absence. Finally, while she slept, he robbed her of money she had got +upon a bracelet; then of some of the jewelry itself. She dared no +longer sleep soundly, lest he might take away her last means of +subsistence. She was in daily and nightly terror of him. + +She made up her mind, at last, to flee to some other part of the town, +and hide from him; that her few resources left might be devoted to +herself alone, and thus postpone the day of destruction to the +furthest possible time. After her last jewel, she might dispose of her +dresses. It was on a moonlight night in spring that she came to this +determination; and, as Ned had gone out in a mood apparently presaging +a long absence, she set about packing her clothes into her trunks, so +as to take them with her when she left by hackney-coach at early +daylight to seek new lodgings. + +Suddenly she heard the door below slam with a familiar violence, and a +well-known heavy tread ascend the stairs. There was no time to conceal +what she was at, ere Ned flung open the door, and stumbled in. He +stared in amazement at her trunks and dresses. + +"What's this?" he cried. "Why is all this trash lying around? Why, +damme, you're packing your trunks!" + +She had passed the mood for dissembling. "Well," she retorted, "I may +pack my trunks if I please. They're my trunks, and my things in 'em." + +"What! You thankless hussy, were you going to run away?" + +"'Tis no concern of yours, what I was going to do!" + +"Oh, isn't it? We'll see about that! Begad, 'tis lucky I came back! So +you were going to desert me, eh? Well, I'm damned if there was ever +such ingratitude! After all I've done and suffered!" + +[Illustration: "HE FINALLY DREW BACK TO GIVE HER A MORE EFFECTUAL +BLOW."] + +She gave a derisive laugh, and defiantly resumed her packing. + +"What! you're rebellious, are you?" quoth he. "But you'll not get away +from me so easy, my lady. Not with those clothes, at least; for +yourself, it doesn't much matter. I'll just put those things back into +the press, and after this I'll carry the key. But your rings and +necklace--I'll take charge of them first." + +He stepped forward to lay hands upon the ornaments, which, for their +greater security from him, she now wore upon her person at all times. +She sprang away, ready to defend them by every possible means, and +warning him not to touch her. Her flashing eyes and fiery mien checked +him for a moment; then, with a curse, he seized her by the neck and +essayed to undo the necklace. Thereupon she screamed loudly for help. +To intimidate her into silence, he struck her in the face. At that she +began to struggle and hit, so that he was hard put to it to retain +hold of her and to save his face from her hands. Enraged by her +efforts, he finally drew back to give her a more effectual blow; which +he succeeded in doing, but at the cost of relaxing his grasp, so that +she slipped from him and escaped by the door. She hastened down the +stairs and into the street, he in wrathful pursuit. She fled toward +the Strand. + +At the corner of that thoroughfare, she ran into a trio of gentlemen +who just at the moment reached the junction of the two streets. + +"The deuce!" cried one of the three, flinging his arms around her. +"What have we here? Beauty in distress?" + +"Let me go!" she cried. "Don't let _him_ take me." + +"Him!" echoed the gentleman, releasing her. He was a +distinguished-looking fellow of twenty-eight or so, with a winning +face and very fine eyes. "Oh, I see. The villain in pursuit!" + +"Egad, that makes you the hero to the rescue, Dick," said one of the +young gentleman's companions. + +"Faith, I'll play the part, too," replied Dick. "Fear not, madam." + +"Thank you, sir, for stopping her," said Ned, coming up, panting. + +"Pray, don't waste your thanks. What shall I do to the rascal, madam?" + +"I don't care," she answered. "Don't let him have me." + +"None of that, sir," spoke up Ned. "She's a runaway, and I'm her +natural protector." + +"Her husband?" inquired Dick. + +"No--" + +"I congratulate you, madam." + +"I'm her brother," said Ned. + +"And condole with you in the same breath," finished Dick, to Margaret. +"You're a lady, I see. Pardon my familiarity at first. Sure you +needn't fear me--I have a wife as beautiful as yourself. As for this +relation of yours--" + +"He tried to rob me of my necklace and rings. We lodge yonder, where +the light is in the window. He found me packing my trunks to leave +him--" + +"And leave him you shall. Shall she not, gentlemen?" + +His two companions warmly assented. Ned savagely measured them with +his eyes, but did not dare a trial of prowess against three. Moreover, +their courtly address and easy manners disconcerted him. + +"Oh, I sha'n't harm her," he grumbled. "'Twas but a tiff. Let her come +back home; 'twill be all well." + +But Madge was not for resigning herself a moment to his mercy. She +briefly explained her situation and her wishes. The upshot of all was, +that the young gentleman called Dick turned to his friends and said: + +"What say you, gentlemen? Our friends at Brooks's can wait, I think. +Shall we protect this lady while she packs her trunks, find lodgings +for her this very night, and see her installed in them?" + +"Ay, and see that this gentle brother does not follow or learn where +she goes," answered one. + +"Bravo!" cried the other. "'Twill be like an incident in a comedy, +Dick." + +"Rather like a page of Smollett," replied Dick. "With your permission, +madam, we'll accompany you to your lodgings." + +They sat around the fireplace, with their backs to her, and talked +with easy gaiety, while she packed her possessions; Ned having first +followed them in, and then fled to appease his mind at an ale-house. +Finally Dick and one of the gentlemen closed her trunks for her, while +the other went for a coach; wherein all three accompanied her to the +house of a wigmaker known to Dick, in High Holborn; where they roused +the inmates, made close terms, and left her installed in a decent room +with her belongings. + +As they took their leave, after an almost tearful burst of thanks on +her part, Dick said: + +"From some of your expressions, madam, I gather that your resources +are limited--resources of one kind, I mean. But in your appearance, +your air, and your voice, you possess resources, which if ever you +feel disposed to use, I beg you will let me know. Pray don't +misunderstand me; the world knows how much I am in love with my +wife."[9] + +When he had gone, leaving her puzzled and astonished, she turned to +the wigmaker's wife, who was putting the room to rights, and asked: + +"Pray what is that last gentleman's name?" + +"Wot, ma'am! Can it be you don't know _'im?_" + +"He forgot to tell me." + +"Sure 'e thought as you must know already. Everybody in London knows +the great Mr. Sheridan." + +"What! Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the dramatist?" + +"And manager of Drury Lane Theaytre. Didn't you 'ear 'im hoffer to put +you on the stage, w'en 'e spoke about your looks and voice?" + +Madge turned to the mirror; and saw, for the--first time in weeks, a +sudden light of hope, a sense of triumphs yet in her power, dawn upon +her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_I Hear Again from Winwood._ + + +Meanwhile we passed through a time of deep sorrow at the Faringfield +house and ours. The effect of Tom's untimely fate, coming upon +Margaret's departure and the disclosures regarding her and Ned, was +marked in Mr. Faringfield by a haggardness of countenance, an averted +glance, a look of age, pitiful to see. His lady considered herself +crushed by affliction, as one upon whom grief had done its worst; and +she resigned herself to the role of martyr in the comfortably +miserable way that some people do, without losing her appreciation of +the small consolations of life, such as morning chocolate, afternoon +tea, and neighbourly conversation upon the subject of her woes. Poor +Fanny bore up for the sake of cheering her parents, but her face, for +a long time, was rarely without the traces of tears shed in solitude. +Of that household of handsome, merry children, whose playful shouts +had once filled the mansion and garden with life, she was now the only +one left. I sighed to think that my chances of taking her away from +that house were now reduced to the infinitesimal. Her parents, who had +brought into the world so promising a family, to find themselves now +so nearly alone, must not be left entirely so: such would be her +answer to any pleas I might in my selfishness offer. + +What a transformation had been wrought in that once cheerful +household! How many lives were darkened!--Mr. Faringfield's, his +wife's, Fanny's, Philip's (when he should know), Madge's (sooner or +later), the sympathetic Cornelius's, my mother's, my own. And what a +promising, manly, gentle life had been cut short in its earliest +bloom! I knew that Tom's life alone had been worth a score of lives +like Captain Falconer's. And the cause of all this, though Margaret +was much to blame, was the idle resolve of a frivolous lady-killer to +add one more conquest to his list, in the person of a woman for whom +he did not entertain more than the most superficial feelings. What a +sacrifice had been made for the transient gratification of a +stranger's vanity! What bitter consequences, heartrending separations, +had come upon all of us who had lived so close together so many +pleasant years, through the careless self-amusement of a chance +interloper whose very name we had not known six months before! + +And now, the pleasure-seeker's brief pastime in that quarter being +ended, the lasting sorrows of his victims having begun; his own career +apparently not altered from its current, their lives diverted rudely +into dark channels and one of them stopped short for ever: was the +matter to rest so? + +You may easily guess what my answer was to this question. When I +pondered on the situation, I no longer found Captain Falconer a hard +man to hate. The very lightness of his purpose, contrasted with the +heaviness of its consequences, aggravated his crime. To risk so much +upon other people, to gain so little for himself, was the more heinous +sin than its converse would have been. That he might not have foreseen +the evil consequences made possible, was no palliation: he ought to +have examined the situation; or indeed he ought to have heeded what he +must have known, that little offences may always entail dire evils. +Measured by their possibility to work havoc with lives, there are no +_small_ sins. The man who enters carelessly upon a trivial deviation +is therefore as much to be held responsible as he that walks +deliberately into the blackest crime. Not to know this, is not to have +studied life; and not to have studied life is, in a person of mature +years, a mighty sin of omission, because of the great evils that may +arise from ignorance. But Captain Falconer must have known life, must +have seen the hazards of his course. Therefore he was responsible in +any view; and therefore I would do my utmost toward exacting payment +from him. Plainly, in Philip's absence, the right fell to me, as his +friend and Tom's--nay, too, as the provisionally accepted husband of +Mr. Faringfield's second daughter. + +But before I got an opportunity to make a quarrel with Falconer (who +had moved his quarters from the Faringfield house, wherein he had not +slept or eaten since the night of Margaret's leaving it, though he had +spent some time in his rooms there on the ensuing day) I had a curious +interview with Mr. Faringfield. + +While in the town one day, I had stopped as usual to see my mother. +Just as I was about to remount my horse, Mr. Faringfield appeared at +his garden gate. Beckoning me to him, he led the way into the garden, +and did not stop until we were behind a fir-tree, where we could not +be seen from the house. + +"Tell me the truth," said he abruptly, his eyes fixed piercingly upon +mine, "how Tom met his death." + +After a moment's confusion, I answered: + +"I can add nothing to what has been told you, sir." + +He looked at me awhile in silence; then said, with a sorrowful frown: + +"I make no doubt you are tongue-tied by a compact. But you need not +fear me. The British authorities are not to be moved by any complaint +of mine. My object is not to procure satisfaction for my son's death. +I merely wish to know whether he took it upon himself to revenge our +calamities; and whether that was not the true cause of his death." + +"Why, sir," I said awkwardly, as he still held me in a searching gaze +that seemed to make speech imperative, "how should you think that?" + +"From several things. In the first place, I know Tom was a lad of +mettle. The account of the supposed attack that night, has it that +Falconer was in your party; he was one of those who returned with you. +What would Tom have been doing in Falconer's society, when not under +orders, after what had occurred? Other people, who know nothing of +that occurrence, would see nothing strange in their being together. +But I would swear the boy was not so lost to honourable feeling as to +have been Falconer's companion after what had taken place here." + +"'Twas no loss of honourable feeling that made him Falconer's +companion!" said I, impulsively. + +"Then," cried he, quickly, with eagerness in his voice, "'twas to +fight Falconer?" + +"I didn't say that." + +"Thank God, then, if he had to die, 'twas not as that man's friend, +but his antagonist! My poor, brave Tom! My noble boy! Oh, would I had +known him better while he lived!" + +"He was all that is chivalrous and true, sir." + +"I wanted only this assurance. I felt it in my heart. Don't fear my +betraying you; I understand how these affairs have to be managed at +such times. Alas, if I had but known in time to prevent! Well, well, +'tis too late now. But there is one person I must confide this +to--Philip." + +"But I haven't told you anything, sir." + +"Quite true; and therefore what I shall confide to Philip will not be +of your telling. He will be silent, too. We shall make no disclosures. +Falconer shall receive his punishment in another manner." + +"He shall, sir," said I, with a positiveness which, in his feeling of +sorrow, and yet relief, to know that Tom had died as champion of the +family honour, escaped his notice. I thereupon took my leave. + +As I afterward came to know, he sent Philip an account of the whole +lamentable affair, from Ned's reappearance to Tom's death; it was +written in a cipher agreed upon between the two, and 'twas carried by +Bill Meadows. Mr. Faringfield deemed it better that Philip should know +the whole truth from his relation, than learn of Madge's departure, +and Tom's fate, from other accounts, which must soon reach his ears in +any case. + +I know not exactly how many days later it was, that, having a free +evening in the town, I went to the Faringfield house in hope of +bearing some cheer with me. But 'twas in vain. Mrs. Faringfield was +keeping her chamber, and requiring Fanny's attendance. Mr. Faringfield +sat in a painful reverie, before the parlour fire; scarce looked up +when I entered; and seemed to find the lively spirits I brought in +from the cold outer world, a jarring note upon his mood. He had not +ordered candles: the firelight was more congenial to his meditations. +Mr. Cornelius sat in a dark corner of the room, lending his silent +sympathy, and perhaps a fitting word now and then, to the merchant's +reflections. + +Old Noah, the only servant I saw, reflected in his black face the +sorrow that had fallen on the home, and stepped with the tread of a +ghost. I soon took my leave, having so far failed to carry any +brightness into the stricken house, that I came away filled with a +sadness akin to its own. I walked forward aimlessly through the wintry +dusk, thinking life all sorrow, the world all gloom. + +Suddenly the sound of laughter struck my ears. Could there indeed be +mirth anywhere--nay, so near at hand--while such woe dwelt in the +house I had left? The merriment seemed a violence, a sacrilege, an +insult. I looked angrily at the place whence the noise proceeded. +'Twas from the parlour of the King's Arms tavern--for, in my doleful +ponderings, my feet had carried me, scarce consciously, so far from +Queen Street. I peered in through the lighted window. A number of +officers were drinking, after dinner, at a large table, and 'twas the +noise of their boisterous gaiety that my unhappy feelings had so +swiftly resented. + +While the merry fellows dipped their punch from the great bowl +steaming in the centre of the table, and laughed uproariously at the +story one was telling, I beheld in sharp contrast this jocund scene +and the sad one I had so recently looked upon. And, coming to observe +particulars, I suddenly noticed that the cause of all this laughter, +himself smiling in appreciation of his own story as he told it, his +face the picture of well-bred light-hearted mirth, was Captain +Falconer. And he was the cause of the other scene, the sorrow that +abode in the house I loved! The thought turned me to fire. I uttered a +curse, and strode into the tavern; rudely flung open the parlour door, +and stood in the presence of the laughing officers. + +Falconer himself was the first to recognise me, though all had turned +to see who made so violent an entrance. + +"Why, Russell," cried he, showing not a whit of ill-humour at the +interruption to his story, "this is a pleasure, by George! I haven't +seen you in weeks. Find a place, and dive into the punch. Ensign +Russell, gentlemen--if any of you haven't the honour already--and my +very good friend, too!" + +"Ensign Russell," I assented, "but not your friend, Captain Falconer. +I desire no friends of your breed; and I came in here for the purpose +of telling you so, damn you!" + +Falconer's companions were amazed, of course; and some of them looked +resentful and outraged, on his behalf. But the captain himself, with +very little show of astonishment, continued his friendly smile to me. + +"Well acted, Russell," said he, in a tone so pleasant I had to tighten +my grip upon my resolution. "On my conscience, anybody who didn't know +us would never see your joke." + +"Nor would anybody who did know us," I retorted. "If an affront before +all this company, purposely offered, be a joke, then laugh at this +one. But a man of spirit would take it otherwise." + +"Sure the fellow means to insult you, Jack," said one of the officers +to Falconer. + +"Thank you," said I to the officer. + +"Why, Bert," said the captain, quickly, "you must be under some +delusion. Have you been drinking too much?" + +"Not a drop," I replied. "I needn't be drunk, to know a scoundrel. +Come, sir, will you soon take offence? How far must I go?" + +"By all that's holy, Jack," cried one of his friends, "if you don't +knock him down, I shall!" + +"Ay, he ought to have his throat slit!" called out another. + +"Nay, nay!" said Falconer, stopping with a gesture a general rising +from the table. "There is some mistake here. I will talk with the +gentleman alone. After you, sir." And, having approached me, he waited +with great civility, for me to precede him out of the door. I accepted +promptly, being in no mood to waste time in a contest of politeness. + +"Now, lad, what in the name of heaven--" he began, in the most gentle, +indulgent manner, as we stood alone in the passage. + +"For God's sake," I blurted irritably, "be like your countrymen in +there: be sneering, resentful, supercilious! Don't be so cursed +amiable--don't make it so hard for me to do this!" + +"I supercilious! And to thee, lad!" he replied, with a reproachful +smile. + +"Show your inward self, then. I know how selfish you are, how +unscrupulous! You like people for their good company, and their +admiration of you, their attachment to you. But you would trample over +any one, without a qualm, to get at your own pleasure or enrichment, +or to gratify your vanity." + +He meditated for a moment upon my words. Then he said, good-naturedly: + +"Why, you hit me off to perfection, I think. And yet, my liking for +some people is real, too. I would do much for those I like--if it cost +not too many pains, and required no sacrifice of pleasure. For you, +indeed, I would do a great deal, upon my honour!" + +"Then do this," quoth I, fighting against the ingratiating charm he +exercised. "Grant me a meeting--swords or pistols, I don't care +which--and the sooner the better." + +"But why? At least I may know the cause." + +"The blight you have brought on those I love--but that's a cause must +be kept secret between us." + +"Must I fight twice on the same score, then?" + +"Why not? You fared well enough the first time. Tom fought on his +family's behalf. I fight on behalf of my friend--Captain Winwood. +Besides, haven't I given you cause to-night, before your friends in +there? If I was in the wrong there, so much the greater my offence. +Come--will you take up the quarrel as it is? Or must I give new +provocation?" + +He sighed like a man who finds himself drawn into a business he would +have considerately avoided. + +"Well, well," said he, "I can refuse you nothing. We can manage the +affair as we did the other, I fancy. It must be a secret, of +course--even from my friends in there. I shall tell them we have +settled our difference, and let them imagine what they please to. I'll +send some one to you--that arrangement will give you the choice of +weapons." + +"'Tis indifferent to me." + +"To me also. But I prefer you should have that privilege. I entreat +you will choose the weapons you are best at." + +"Thank you. I shall expect to hear from you, then. Good-night!" + +"Good-night! 'Tis a foggy evening. I wish you might come in and warm +yourself with a glass before you go; but of course--well, good-night!" + +I went out into the damp darkness, thanking heaven the matter was +settled beyond undoing; and marvelling that exceptional, favoured +people should exist, who, thanks to some happy combination of +superficial graces, remain irresistibly likable despite all exposure +of the selfish vices they possess at heart. + +But if my prospective opponent was one who could not be faced +antagonistically without a severe effort, the second whom he chose was +one against whose side I could fight with the utmost readiness, thanks +to the irritating power he possessed upon me. He was Lieutenant Chubb, +whom I had worsted in the affair to which I have alluded earlier, +which grew out of his assumption of superiority to us who were of +American birth. I had subjected this cock to such deference in my +presence, that he now rejoiced at what promised to be my defeat, and +his revenge by proxy, so great reliance he placed upon Captain +Falconer's skill with either sword or pistol. I chose the latter +weapon, however, without much perturbation, inwardly resolved that the +gloating Chubb should so far fail of his triumph, as to suffer a +second humiliation in the defeat of his principal. For my own second, +Lieutenant Berrian, of our brigade, did me the honour to go out with +me. A young New York surgeon, Doctor Williams, obliged us by assuming +the risk which it would have been too much to ask Doctor McLaughlin to +undertake a second time. At my desire, the place and hour set were +those at which Tom Faringfield had met his death. I felt that the +memory of his dying face would be strongest, there and then, to make +my arm and sight quick and sure. + +A thaw had carried away much of the snow, and hence we had it not as +light as it had been for Tom's duel; although the moon made our +outlines and features perfectly distinct as we assembled in the +hollow, and it would make our pistol-barrels shine brightly enough +when the time came, as I ascertained by taking aim at an imaginary +mark. + +Falconer and I stood each alone, while the seconds stepped off the +paces and the surgeon lighted a small lantern which might enable him +to throw, upon a possible wound, rays more to the purpose than the +moon afforded. I was less agitated, I think, than the doctor himself, +who was new to such an affair. I kept my mind upon the change wrought +in the Faringfield household, upon the fate of Tom, upon what I +imagined would be Philip's feelings; and I had a thought, too, for the +disappointment of my old enemy Chubb if I could cap the firing signal +with a shot the fraction of a second before my antagonist could. We +were to stand with our backs toward each other, at the full distance, +and, upon the word, might turn and fire as soon as possible. To be the +first in wheeling round upon a heel, and covering the foe, was my one +concern, and, as I took my place, I dismissed all else from my mind, +to devote my entire self, bodily and mental, to that one series of +movements: all else but one single impression, and that was of +malicious exultation upon the face of Chubb. + +"You'll smile on t'other side of your face in a minute," thought I, +pressing my teeth together. + +I was giving my hand its final adjustment to the pistol, when suddenly +a man dashed out of the covert at one side of the hollow, and ran +toward us, calling out in a gruff voice: + +"Hold on a minute. Here's su'thin' fur you, Ensign Russell." + +We had all turned at the first sound of the man's tread, fearing we +had been spied upon and discovered. But I now knew there was no danger +of that kind, for the voice belonged to old Bill Meadows. + +"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, annoyed at the interruption. + +"Nothin'. Read this here. I've follered yuh all evenin', thinkin' to +ketch yuh alone. I gev my word to get it to yuh, fust thing; an' fur +my own sake, I tried to do it unbeknownst. But now I must do it anyhow +I ken. So take it, an' my compliments, an' I trust yuh to keep mum an' +ask no questions, an' furget 'twas me brung it. And I'll keep a shet +mouth about these here goings on. Only read it now, fur God's sake." + +He had handed me a sealed letter. My curiosity being much excited, I +turned to Falconer, and said: + +"Will you grant me permission? 'Twill take but a moment." + +"Certainly," said he. + +"Ay," added Chubb, against all the etiquette of the situation, "it can +be allowed, as you're not like to read any more letters." + +I tore it open, disdaining to reply in words to a gratuitous taunt I +could soon answer by deed. The doctor having handed me his lantern, I +held it in one hand, the letter in the other. The writing was that of +Philip Winwood, and the letter read as follows: + + "DEAR BERT:--I have learned what sad things have befallen. You + will easily guess my informant; but I know you will not use your + knowledge of my communication therewith, to the detriment + thereof. And I am sure that, since I ask it, you will not betray + (or, by any act or disclosure, imperil or hamper) the messenger + who brings this at risk of his life; for the matter is a private + one. + + "Pondering upon all that has occurred, I am put in a fear of your + forgetting whose right it is to avenge it, and of your taking + that duty to yourself, which belongs by every consideration to + me. This is to beg, therefore, that you will not forestall me; + that while I live you will leave this matter to me, at whatsoever + cost though it be to your pride and your impatience. Dear Bert, I + enjoin you, do not usurp my prerogative. By all the ties between + us, past and to come, I demand this of you. _The man is mine to + kill_. Let him wait my time, and I shall be the more, what I long + have been, Ever thine, + + "PHILIP." + +I thought over it for a full minute. He asked of me a grievous +disappointment; nay, something of a humiliation, too, so highly had I +carried myself, so triumphant had my enemy Chubb become in +anticipation, so derisive would he be in case of my withdrawal. + +If I receded, Chubb would have ground to think the message a device to +get me out of a peril at the last moment, after I had pretended to +face it so intrepidly thereunto. For I could not say what my letter +contained, or who it was from, without betraying Meadows and perhaps +Mr. Faringfield, which both Philip's injunction and my own will +prohibited my doing. Thus, I hesitated awhile before yielding to +Philip what he claimed so rightly as his own. But I am glad I had the +courage to face Chubb's probable suspicions and possible contempt. + +"Gentlemen," said I, folding up the letter for concealment and +preservation, "I am very sorry to have brought you out here for +nothing. I must make some other kind of reparation to you, Captain +Falconer. I can't fight you." + +There was a moment's pause; during which Lieutenant Chubb looked from +me to his principal, with a mirthful grin, as much as to say I was a +proven coward after all my swagger. But the captain merely replied: + +"Oh, let the matter rest as it is, then. I'm sorry I had to disappoint +a lady, to come out here on a fool's errand, that's all." + +He made that speech with intention, I'm sure, by way of revenge upon +me, though doubtless 'twas true enough; for he must have known how it +would sting a man who thought kindly of Madge Faringfield. It was the +first cutting thing I had ever heard him say; it showed that he was no +longer unwilling to antagonise me; it proved that he, too, could throw +off the gentleman when he chose: and it made him no longer difficult +for me to hate. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_Philip Comes at Last to London._ + + +A human life will drone along uneventfully for years with scarce a +perceptible progress, retrogression, or change; and then suddenly, +with a few leaps, will cover more of alteration and event in a week +than it has passed through in a decade. So will the critical +occurrences of a day fill chapters, after those of a year have failed +to yield more material than will eke out a paragraph. Experience +proceeds by fits and starts. Only in fiction does a career run in an +unbroken line of adventures or memorable incidents. + +The personal life of Philip Winwood, as distinguished from his +military career, which had no difference from that of other commanders +of rebel partisan horse, and which needs no record at my hands, was +marked by no conspicuous event from the night when he learned and +defeated Madge's plot, to the end of the war. The news of her +departure, and of Tom's death, came to him with a fresh shock, it is +true, but they only settled him deeper in the groove of sorrow, and in +the resolution to pay full retribution where it was due. + +He had no pusillanimous notion of the unworthiness of revenge. He +believed retaliation, when complete and inflicted without cost or +injury to the giver, to be a most logical and fitting thing. But he +knew that revenge is a two-edged weapon, and that it must be wielded +carefully, so as not to cause self-damage. He required, too, that it +should be wielded in open and honourable manner; and in that manner he +was resolved to use it upon Captain Falconer. As for Madge, I believe +he forgave her from the first, holding her "more in sorrow than in +anger," and pitying rather than reproaching. + +Well, he served throughout the war, keeping his sorrow to himself, +being known always for a quietly cheerful mien, giving and taking hard +blows, and always yielding way to others in the pressure for +promotion. Such was the state of affairs in the rebel army, that his +willingness to defer his claims for advancement, when there were +restless and ambitious spirits to be conciliated and so kept in the +service, was availed of for the sake of expediency. But he went not +without appreciation. On one occasion, when a discontented but useful +Pennsylvanian was pacified with a colonelcy, General Washington +remarked to Light Horse Harry Lee: "And yet you are but a major, and +Winwood remains a captain; but let me tell you, there is less honour +in the titles of general and colonel, as borne by many, than there is +in the mere names of Major Lee and Captain Winwood." + +When Lee's troop was sent to participate in the Southern campaign, +Philip's accompanied it, and he had hard campaigning under Greene, +which continued against our Southernmost forces until long after the +time of the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis's army at Yorktown, to the +combined rebel and French armies under Washington. It happened that +our battalion, wherein I was promoted to a lieutenantcy shortly after +my abortive meeting with Captain Falconer near Kingsbridge, went South +by sea for the fighting there, being the only one of De Lancey's +battalions that left the vicinity of New York. We had bloody work +enough then to balance our idleness in the years we had covered +outposts above New York, and 'twas but a small fraction of our number +that came home alive at last. I never met Philip while we were both in +the South, nor saw him till the war was over. + +Shiploads of our New York loyalists left, after Cornwallis's defeat at +Yorktown showed what the end was to be; some of them going to England +but many of them sailing to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, there to +begin afresh the toiling with the wilderness, and to build up new +English colonies in North America. Others contrived to make their way +by land to Canada, which thereby owes its English population mainly to +those who fled from the independent states rather than give up their +loyalty to the mother country. The government set up by the victorious +rebels had taken away the lands and homes of the loyalists, by acts of +attainder, and any who remained in the country did so at the risk of +life or liberty. What a time of sad leave-taking it was!--families +going forth poor to a strange land, who had lived rich in that of +their birth--what losses, what wrenches, what heart-rendings! And how +little compensation England could give them, notwithstanding all their +claims and petitions! Well, they would deserve little credit for their +loyalty if they had followed it without willingness to lose for it. + +But my mother and I had possessed nothing to lose in America but our +house and ground, our money being in the English funds. Fortunately, +and thanks to our insignificance, we had been overlooked in the first +act of attainder, and, taking warning by that, my mother had +gratefully accepted Mr. Faringfield's offer to buy our home, for which +we had thereafter paid him rent. Thus we had nothing to confiscate, +when the war was over. As for Mr. Faringfield, he was on the +triumphant side of Independence, which he had supported with secret +contributions from the first; of course he was not to be held +accountable for the treason of his eldest son, and the open service of +poor Tom on the king's side. + +My mother feared dreadful things when the victorious rebels should +take possession--imprisonment, trial for treason, and similar horrors; +and she was for sailing to England with the British army. But I flatly +refused to go, pretending I was no such coward, and that I would leave +when I was quite ready. I was selfish in this, of course; but I could +not bring myself to go so far from Fanny. Our union was still as +uncertain a possibility as ever. Only one thing was sure: she would +not leave her parents at present. + +The close of the war did not bring Philip back to us at once. On that +day when, the last of the British vessels having gone down the bay, +with the last British soldier aboard, the strangely empty-looking town +took on a holiday humour, and General Washington rode in by the Bowery +lane, with a number of his officers, and a few war-worn troops to make +up a kind of procession of entry, and the stars and stripes were run +up at the Battery--on that day of sadness, humiliation, and +apprehension to those of us loyalists who had dared stay, I would have +felt like cheering with the crowd, had Philip been one of those who +entered. But he was still in the South, recovering from a bullet wound +in his shoulder. + +My mother and I were thereafter the recipients of ominous looks, and +some uncomfortable hints and jeers, and our life was made constantly +unpleasant thereby. The sneers cast by one Major Wheeler upon us +loyalists, and upon our reasons for standing by the king, got me into +a duel with him at Weehawken, wherein I gave him the only wound he +ever received through his attachment to the cause of Independence. +Another such affair, which I had a short time afterward, near the +Bowery lane, and in which I shot a Captain Appleby's ear off, was +attributed by my mother to the same cause; but the real reason was +that the fellow had uttered an atrocious slander of Philip Winwood in +connection with the departure of Phil's wife. This was but one of the +many lies, on both sides of the ocean, that moved me at last to +attempt a true account of my friend's domestic trouble. + +My mother foresaw my continual engagement in such affairs if we +remained in a place where we were subject to constant offence, and +declared she would become distracted unless we removed ourselves. I +resisted until she vowed she would go alone, if I drove her to that. +And then I yielded, with a heart enveloped in a dark mist as to the +outcome. Well, I thought with a sigh, I can always write to Fanny, and +some day I shall come back for her. + +It was now Summer. One evening, I sat upon our front step, in a kind +of torpid state of mind through my refusal to contemplate the dismal +future. My eye turned listlessly down the street. The only moving +figure in it was that of a slender man approaching on the further side +of the way. He carried two valises, one with each hand, and leaned a +little forward as he strode, as if weary. Instantly I thought of years +ago, and another figure coming up that street, with both hands laden, +and walking in a manner of fatigue. I rose, gazed with a fast-beating +heart at the man coming nearer at every step, stifled a cry that +turned into a sob, and ran across the street. He saw me, stopped, set +down his burdens, and waited for me, with a tired, kind smile. I could +not speak aloud, but threw my arms around him, and buried my clouded +eyes upon his shoulder, whispering: "Phil! 'Tis you!" + +"Ay," said he, "back at last. I thought I'd walk up from the boat just +as I did that first day I came to New York." + +"And just as then," said I, having raised my face and released him, "I +was on the step yonder, and saw you coming, and noticed that you +carried baggage in each hand, and that you walked as if you were +tired." + +"I am tired," said he, "but I walk as my wounds let me." + +"But there's no cat this time," said I, attempting a smile. + +"No, there's no cat," he replied. "And no--" + +His eye turned toward the Faringfield garden gate, and he broke off +with the question: "How are they? and your mother?" + +I told him what I could, as I picked up one of his valises and +accompanied him across the street, thinking how I had done a similar +office on the former occasion, and of the pretty girl that had made +the scene so bright to both him and me. Alas, there was no pretty girl +standing at the gate, beside her proud and stately parents, and her +open-eyed little brother, to receive us. I remembered how Ned and +Fanny had come upon the scene, so that for a moment the whole family +had stood together at the gateway. + +"'Tis changed, isn't it?" said Philip, quietly, reading my thoughts as +we passed down the garden walk, upon which way of entrance we had +tacitly agreed in preference to the front door. "I can see the big dog +walking ahead of me, and hear the kitten purring in the basket, and +feel little Tom's soft hand, and see at the other side of me--well, +'tis the way of the world, Bert!" + +He had the same boyish look; notwithstanding his face was longer and +more careworn, and his hair was a little sprinkled with gray though he +was but thirty-one. + +I left him on the rear veranda, when old Noah had opened the hall door +and shouted a hysterical "Lor' bress me!--it's Massa Phil!" after a +moment's blinking inspection to make sure. From the cheered look on +Mr. Faringfield's face that evening, and the revived lustre in Mrs. +Faringfield's eyes, I could guess what welcome Philip had received +from the stricken pair. + +I told him the next day, in our garden, how matters stood with Fanny +and me, and that Captain Falconer had sailed for England with the +royal army. + +"I don't think Mr. Faringfield will hold out for ever," said Philip, +alluding to my hopes of Fanny. "'Faith, he ought to welcome the +certainty of happiness for at least one of his children. Maybe I can +put the matter to him in that light." + +"But Fanny herself will not leave, as long as she thinks they need +her." + +"Why, then, he must use his parental authority, and bid her come to +you. He's not the man who would have his child wait upon his death for +happiness. We must use the hope of grandchildren as a means of +argument. For you'll come back to America at last, no doubt, when old +hurts are forgot. And if you can come with a houseful of +youngsters--egad, I shall paint a picture to his mind, will not let +him rest till he sees it in way of accomplishment! Go to England +without fear, man; and trust me to bring things to pass before you've +been long away." + +"But you? Surely--" + +"Oh, I shall follow you soon. I have matters of my own to look to, +over there." + +He did not confide to me, at this time, his thoughts and intentions +regarding his wife (of whom we were then ignorant whether she was dead +or alive, but supposed she must be somewhere in London), or regarding +Captain Falconer; but I knew that it was to her future, and to his +settlement with Falconer, that he alluded. I guessed then, and +ascertained subsequently, that Phil gave Fanny also encouragement to +believe all should come right between her and me, and yet not to the +further sorrow of her parents. I divined it at the time, from the +hopeful manner in which she supported our departure, both in the busy +days preceding it, and in the hour of leave-taking. True, she broke +down on the ship, whither Philip and Cornelius had brought her to bid +us farewell; and she wept bitter tears on my mother's breast, which I +knew were meant chiefly for me. But at last she presented a brave face +for me to kiss, though 'twas rather a cold, limp hand I pressed as she +started down the ladder for the boat where Cornelius awaited. + +"Good-bye, lad," said Phil, with the old smile, which had survived all +his toils and hurts and sorrows; "I shall see you in London next, I +hope. And trust me--about Fanny." + +"Thank you, dear Phil, and God bless you! Always working for other +people's happiness, when your own--well, good-bye!" + +He had made no request as to my course in the possibility of my +meeting Madge in London; but he knew that _I_ knew what he would wish, +and I was glad he had not thought necessary to tell me. + +Philip and Cornelius rowed the boat back, Fanny waving her +handkerchief. We saw them land, and stand upon the wharf to watch our +ship weigh anchor. My mother would wave her handkerchief a moment, and +then apply it to her eyes, and then give it another little toss, and +then her eyes another touch. I stood beside her, leaning upon the +gunwale, with a lump in my throat. Suddenly I realised we were under +way. We continued to exchange farewell motions with the three upon the +wharf. How small Fanny looked! how slender was Philip! how the water +widened every instant between us and them! how long a time must pass +ere we should see them again! A kind of sudden consternation was upon +my mother's face, and in my heart, at the thought. 'Twas a +foretaste--indeed it might prove the actuality--of eternal separation. +Our three friends were at last hidden from our sight, and in the +despondency of that moment I thought what fools men are, to travel +about the world, and not cling all their days to the people, and the +places, that they love. + + * * * * * + +We lodged at first in Surrey Street, upon our arrival in London; but +when October came, and we had a preliminary taste of dirty fog, my +mother vowed she couldn't endure the damp climate and thick sky of the +town; and so we moved out to Hampstead, where we furnished a small +cottage, and contrived with economy to live upon the income of our +invested principal, which was now swelled by money we had received +from Mr. Faringfield for our home in New York. The proceeds of the +sale of our furniture there had paid our passage, and given us a start +in our new abode. Meanwhile, as an American loyalist who had suffered +by the war, and as a former servant of the king; though I had no claim +for a money indemnity, such as were presented on behalf of many; I was +lucky enough, through Mr. De Lancey's offices, to obtain a small +clerkship in the custom-house. And so we lived uneventfully, in hope +of the day when Phil should come to us, and of that when I might go +and bring back Fanny. + +The letters from Philip and Fanny informed us merely of the continued +health, and the revived cheerfulness, of Mr. and Mrs. Faringfield; and +presently of the good fortune of Mr. Cornelius in being chosen to fill +two pulpits in small towns sufficiently near New York to permit his +residence in Queen Street. Mr. Faringfield and Philip were occupied in +setting the former's business upon its feet again, and something like +the old routine had been resumed in the bereaved house. I knew that +all this was due to Phil's imperceptible work. At last there came +great news: Philip was to follow his letter to England, in the next +Bristol vessel after the one that carried it. 'Twas but a brief note +in which he told us this. "There is some news," wrote he, "but I will +save it for word of mouth. Be prepared for a surprise that I shall +bring." + +With what expectation we awaited his coming, what conjectures we made +regarding the promised surprise as we talked the news over every +evening in the little parlour where we dined on my return from the +city, I leave my reader to imagine. I had my secret notion that it +concerned Fanny and me. + +At the earliest time when a ship might be expected to follow the one +by which the letter came, I began to call every evening, ere starting +for Hampstead, at the inn where the Bristol coaches arrived. Many a +long wait I had in vain when a coach happened to be late. I grew so +accustomed to the disappointment of seeing no familiar figure among +the passengers alighting, that sometimes I felt as if Phil's letter +were a delusion and he never would appear. + +But one evening as I stared as usual with the crowd in the coach yard, +and had watched three portly strangers already emerge from the open +door to the steps, and was prepared for the accustomed sinking of my +heart, what did that heart do but give a great bound so as almost to +choke me! There he was in the doorway, the same old Phil, with the +same kindly face. I rushed forward. Before I reached him, he had +turned around toward the inside of the coach, as if he would help some +one out after him. "Some decrepit fellow traveller," thought I, and +looked up indifferently to see what sort of person it might be: and +there, as I live, stepping out from the coach, and taking his offered +hand, was Fanny! + +I was at her other side before either of them knew it, holding up my +hand likewise. They glanced at me in the same instant; and Phil's glad +smile came as the accompaniment to Fanny's joyous little cry. I had an +arm around each in a moment; and we created some proper indignation +for a short space by blocking up the way from the stage-coach. + +"Come!" I cried. "We'll take a hackney-coach! How happy mother will +be!--But no, you must be hungry. Will you eat here first?--a cup of +coffee? a glass of wine?" + +But they insisted upon waiting till we got to Hampstead; and, scarce +knowing what I was about, yet accomplishing wonders in my excitement, +I had a coach ready, and their trunks and bags transferred, and all of +us in the coach, before I stopped to breathe. And before I could +breathe twice, it seemed, we were rolling over the stones Northward. + +"Sure it's a dream!" said I. "To think of it! Fanny in London!" + +"My father would have it so," said she, demurely. + +"Ay," added Phil, "and she's forbidden to go back to New York till she +takes you with her. 'Faith, man, am I not a prophet?" + +"You're more than a prophet; you're a providence," I cried. "'Tis your +doing!" + +"Nonsense. 'Tis Mr. Faringfield's. And that implacable man, not +content with forcing an uncongenial marriage upon this helpless +damsel, requires that you immediately resign your high post in the +king's service, and live upon the pittance he settles upon you as his +daughter's husband." + +"'Tis too generous. I can't accept." + +"You must, Bert," put in Fanny, "or else you can't have me. 'Tis one +of papa's conditions." + +"But," Phil went on, "in order that this unhappy child may become used +to the horrible idea of this marriage by degrees, she is to live with +your mother a few months while I carry you off on a trip for my +benefit and pleasure: and that's one of my conditions: for it wouldn't +do for you to go travelling about the country after you were married, +leaving your wife at home, and Fanny abominates travelling. But as +soon as you and I have seen a very little of this part of the world, +you're to be married and live happy ever after." + +We had a memorable evening in our little parlour that night. 'Twas +like being home again, my mother said--thereby admitting inferentially +the homesickness she had refused to confess directly. The chief piece +of personal news the visitors brought was that the Rev. Mr. Cornelius +had taken a wife, and moved into our old house, which 'twas pleasant +to know was in such friendly hands; and that the couple considered it +their particular mission to enliven the hours of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, with whom they spent half their time. + +Philip's first month in England was spent in exploring London, +sometimes with me, sometimes alone, for 'tis needless to say in whose +society I chose to pass much of my time. What sights he saw; what +unlikely corners he sought out because some poet had been born, or +died, or drunk wine there; what streets he roamed: I am sure I never +could tell. I know that all the time he kept eyes alert for a certain +face, ears keen for a certain name; but neither in the streets, nor at +the shops, nor in the parks, nor at the play, did he catch a glimpse +of Margaret; nor in the coffee-house, or tavern, or gaming-place, or +in the region of the clubs, did he hear a chance mention of the name +of Falconer. And so, presently, we set about making the tour he had +spoken of. + +There was a poor family of Long Island loyalists named Doughty, that +had settled in the seacoast town of Hastings in Sussex, in order that +they might follow the fisheries, which had been their means of +livelihood at home. Considering that a short residence in the more +mild and sunny climate of the Channel might be a pleasant change for +my mother, and not disagreeable to Fanny, we arranged that, during the +absence of Phil and me, we should close our cottage, and the ladies +should board with these worthy though humble people, who would afford +them all needful masculine protection. Having seen them comfortably +established, we set forth upon our travels. + +We visited the principal towns and historic places of England and +Scotland, Philip having a particular interest in Northamptonshire, +where his father's line sprang from (Sir Ralph Winwood having been a +worthy of some eminence in the reigns of Elizabeth and James),[10] and +in Edinburgh, the native place of his mother. Cathedrals, churches, +universities, castles, tombs of great folk, battle-fields--'twould +fill a book to describe all the things and places we saw; most of +which Phil knew more about than the people did who dwelt by them. From +England we crossed to France, spent a fortnight in Paris, went to +Rheims, thence to Strasburg, thence to Frankfort; came down the Rhine, +and passed through parts of Belgium and Holland before taking vessel +at Amsterdam for London. "I must leave Italy, the other German states, +and the rest till another time," said Philip. It seemed as if we had +been gone years instead of months, when at last we were all home again +in our cottage at Hampstead. + +After my marriage, though Mr. Faringfield's handsome settlement would +have enabled Fanny and me to live far more pretentiously, we were +content to remain in the Hampstead cottage. Fanny would not hear to +our living under a separate roof from that of my mother, whose +constant society she had come to regard as necessary to her happiness. + +Philip now arranged to pursue the study of architecture in the office +of a practitioner of that art; and he gave his leisure hours to the +improving of his knowledge of London. He made acquaintances; passed +much time in the Pall Mall taverns; and was able to pilot me about the +town, and introduce me to many agreeable habitues of the +coffee-houses, as if he were the elder resident of London, and I were +the newcomer. And so we arrived at the Spring of 1786, and a momentous +event. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_We Meet a Play-actress There._ + + +It was Philip's custom, at this time, to attend first nights at the +playhouses, as well from a love of the theatre as from the possibility +that he might thus come upon Captain Falconer. He always desired my +company, which I was the readier to grant for that I should recognise +the captain in any assemblage, and could point him out to Phil, who +had never seen him. We took my mother and Fanny excepting when they +preferred to stay at home, which was the case on a certain evening in +this Spring of 1786, when we went to Drury Lane to witness the +reappearance of a Miss Warren who had been practising her art the +previous three years in the provinces. This long absence from London +had begun before my mother and I arrived there, and consequently +Philip and I had that evening the pleasurable anticipation of seeing +upon the stage a much-praised face that was quite new to us. + +[Illustration: "IT WAS PHILIP'S CUSTOM, AT THIS TIME, TO ATTEND FIRST +NIGHTS AT THE PLAYHOUSES."] + +There was the usual noisy throng of coaches, chairs, people afoot, +lackeys, chair-men, boys, and such, in front of the playhouse when we +arrived, and though we scanned all faces on whom the light fell, we +had our wonted disappointment regarding that of Captain Falconer. We +made our way to the pit, and passed the time till the bell and the +chorus "Hats off!" signalled the rising of the green curtain, in +watching the chattering assemblage that was every moment swelled from +the doors; but neither among the lace-ruffled bucks and macaronis who +chaffed with the painted and powdered ladies in the boxes, nor among +those dashing gentry who ogled the same towering-haired ladies from +the benches around us in the pit, did I perceive the elegant and easy +captain. We therefore fell back upon the pleasure to be expected from +the play itself, and when the curtain rose, I, for one, was resigned +to the absence of him we had come partly in quest of. + +No sooner had Miss Warren come upon the stage, in her favourite part +of Fanny in "The Clandestine Marriage," revived for the occasion, than +I knew her as Madge Faringfield. I bent forward, with staring eyes and +gaping mouth; if I uttered any exclamation it was drowned in the sound +of the hand-clapping that greeted her. While she curtseyed and +pleasantly smiled, in response to this welcome, I turned abruptly to +Phil, my eyes betokening my recognition. He nodded, without a word or +any other movement, and continued to look at her, his face wearing a +half-smiling expression of gentle gladness. + +I knew, from my old acquaintance with him, that he was under so great +emotion that he dared not speak. It was, indeed, a cessation of secret +anxiety to him, a joy such as only a constant lover can understand, to +know that she was alive, well, with means of livelihood, and beautiful +as ever. Though she was now thirty-one, she looked, on the stage, not +a day older than upon that sad night when he had thrown her from him, +six years and more before--nay, than upon that day well-nigh eleven +years before, when he had bade her farewell to go upon his first +campaign. She was still as slender, still had the same girlish air and +manner. + +Till the curtain fell upon the act, we sat without audible remark, +delighting our eyes with her looks, our ears with her voice, our +hearts (and paining them at the same time) with the memories her every +movement, every accent, called up. + +"How shall we see her?" were Phil's first words at the end of the act. + +"We may be allowed to send our names, and see her in the greenroom," +said I. "Or perhaps you know somebody who can take us there without +any preliminaries." + +"Nay," returned Philip, after a moment's thought, "there will be other +people there. I shouldn't like strangers to see--you understand. We +shall wait till the play is over, and then go to the door where the +players come out. 'Twill take her some time to dress for going +home--we can't miss her that way." + +I sympathised with his feelings against making their meeting a scene +for the amusement of frivolous lookers-on, and we waited patiently +enough. Neither of us could have told, when the play was over, what +was the story it presented. Even Madge's speeches we heard with less +sense of their meaning than emotion at the sound of her voice. If this +was the case with me, how much more so, as I could see by side-glances +at his face, was it with Philip! Between the acts, we had little use +for conversation. One of our thoughts, though neither uttered it, was +that, despite the reputation that play-actresses generally bore, a +woman _could_ live virtuously by the profession, and in it, and that +several women since the famous Mrs. Bracegirdle were allowed to have +done so. 'Twas only necessary to look at our Madge, to turn the +possibility in her case into certainty. + +When at last the play was ended, we forced our way through the +departing crowd so as to arrive almost with the first upon the scene +of waiting footmen, shouting drivers, turbulent chair-men, clamorous +boys with dim lanterns or flaming torches, and such attendants upon +the nightly emptying of a playhouse. Through this crush we fought our +way, hastened around into a darker street, comparatively quiet and +deserted, and found a door with a feeble lamp over it, which, as a +surly old fellow within told us, served as stage entrance to the +theatre. We crossed the dirty street, and took up our station in the +shadow opposite the door; whence a few actors not required in the +final scene, or not having to make much alteration of attire for the +street, were already emerging, bent first, I suppose, for one or other +of the many taverns or coffee-houses about Covent Garden near at hand. + +While we were waiting, two chair-men came with their vehicle and set +it down at one side of the door, and a few boys and women gathered in +the hope of obtaining sixpence by some service of which a player might +perchance be in need on issuing forth. And presently a coach appeared +at the corner of the street, and stopped there, whereupon a gentleman +got out of it, gave the driver and footman some commands, and while +the conveyance remained where it was, approached alone, at a blithe +gait, and took post near us, though more in the light shed by the lamp +over the stage door. + +"Gad's life!" I exclaimed, in a whisper. + +"What is it?" asked Phil, in a similar voice. + +"Falconer!" I replied, ere I had thought. + +Philip gazed at the newcomer, who was heedless of our presence. Phil +seemed about to stride forward to him, but reconsidered, and whispered +to me, in a strange tone: + +"What can he be doing here, where _she_--? You are sure that's the +man?" + +"Yes--but not now--'tis not the place--we came for another purpose--" + +"I know--but if I lose him!" + +"No fear of that. I'll keep track of him--learn where he's to be +found--while you meet her." + +"But if he--if she--" + +"Wait and see. His being here, may not in any way concern her. Mere +coincidence, no doubt." + +"I hope to God it is!" whispered Phil, though his voice quivered. +"Nay, I'll believe it is, too, till I see otherwise." + +"Good! And when I learn his haunts, as I shall before I sleep, you may +find him at any time." + +And so we continued to wait, keeping in the darkness, so that the +captain, even if he had deigned to be curious, could not have made out +our faces from where he stood. Philip watched him keenly, to stamp his +features upon memory, as well as they could be observed in the yellow +light of the sickly lamp; but yet, every few moments Phil cast an +eager glance at the door. I grant I was less confident that Falconer's +presence was mere coincidence, than I had appeared, and I was in a +tremble of apprehension for what Madge's coming might reveal. + +The captain, who was very finely dressed, and, like us, carried a cane +but no sword, allowed impatience to show upon his usually serene +countenance: evidently he was unused to waiting in such a place, and I +wondered why he did not make free of the greenroom instead of doing +so. But he composed himself to patience as with a long breath, and +fell to humming softly a gay French air the while he stood leaning +motionlessly, in an odd but graceful attitude, upon his slender cane. +Sometimes he glanced back toward the waiting coach, and then, without +change of position as to his body, returned his gaze to the door. + +Two or three false alarms were occasioned him, and us, by the coming +forth of ladies who proved, as soon as the light struck them, to be +other than the person we awaited. But at last she appeared, looking +her years and cares a little more than upon the stage, but still +beautiful and girlish. She was followed by a young waiting-woman; but +before we had time to note this, or to step out of the shadow, we saw +Captain Falconer bound across the way, seize her hand, and bend very +gallantly to kiss it. + +So, then, it was for her he had waited: such was the bitter thought of +Phil and me; and how our hearts sickened at it, may be imagined when I +say that his hope and mine, though unexpressed, had been to find her +penitent and hence worthy of all forgiveness, in which case she would +not have renewed even acquaintance with this captain. And there he +was, kissing her hand! + +But ere either of us could put our thought into speech, our sunken +hearts were suddenly revived, by Madge's conduct. + +She drew her hand instantly away, and as soon as she saw who it was +that had seized it, she took on a look of extreme annoyance and anger, +and would have hastened past him, but that he stood right in her way. + +"You again!" she said. "Has my absence been for nothing, then?" + +"Had you stayed from London twice three years, you would have found me +the same, madam," he replied. + +"Then I must leave London again, that's all," said she. + +"It shall be with me, then," said he. "My coach is waiting yonder." + +"And my chair is waiting here," said she, snatching an opportunity to +pass him and to step into the sedan, of which the door was invitingly +open. It was not her chair, but one that stood in solicitation of some +passenger from the stage door; as was now shown by one of the +chair-men asking her for directions. She bade her maid hire a boy with +a light, and lead the way afoot; and told the chair-men to follow the +maid. The chair door being then closed, and the men lifting their +burden, her orders were carried out. + +Neither Philip nor I had yet thought it opportune to appear from our +concealment, and now he whispered that, for the avoidance of a scene +before spectators, it would be best for him to follow the chair, and +accost her at her own door. I should watch Falconer to his abode, and +each of us should eventually go home independently of the other. Our +relief to find that the English captain's presence was against Madge's +will, needed no verbal expression; it was sufficiently manifest +otherwise. + +Before Philip moved out to take his place behind the little +procession, Falconer, after a moment's thought, walked rapidly past to +his coach, and giving the driver and footman brief orders, stepped +into it. 'Twas now time for both Phil and me to be in motion, and we +went down the way together. The chair passed the coach, which +immediately fell in behind it, the horses proceeding at a walk. + +"He intends to follow her," said I. + +"Then we shall follow both," said Phil, "and await events. 'Tis no use +forcing a scene in this neighbourhood." + +So Philip's quest and mine lay together, and we proceeded along the +footway, a little to the rear of the coach, which in turn was a little +to the rear of the chair. Passing the side of Drury Lane Theatre, the +procession soon turned into Bow Street, and leaving Covent Garden +Theatre behind, presently resumed a Southwestward course, deflecting +at St. Martin's Lane so as to come at last into Gerrard Street, and +turning thence Northward into Dean Street. Here the maid led the +chair-men along the West side of the way; but Philip and I kept the +East side. At last the girl stopped before a door with a pillared +porch, and the carriers set down the chair. + +Instantly Captain Falconer's footman leaped from the box of the coach, +and, while the maid was at the chair door to help her mistress, dashed +into the porch and stood so as to prevent any one's reaching the door +of the house. The captain himself, springing out of the coach, was +at Madge's side as soon as she had emerged from the chair. Philip +and I, gliding unseen across the street, saw him hand something to +the front chair-man which made that rascal open his mouth in +astonishnent--'twas, no doubt, a gold piece or two--and heard him +say: + +"You and your fellow, begone, and divide that among you. Quick! +Vanish!" + +The men obeyed with alacrity, bearing their empty chair past Phil and +me toward Gerrard Street at a run. The captain, by similar means, sent +the boy with the light scampering off in the opposite direction. +Meanwhile, Philip and I having stopped behind a pillar of the next +porch for a moment's consultation, Madge was bidding the footman stand +aside from before her door. This we could see by the rays of a street +lamp, which were at that place sufficient to make a carried light not +absolutely necessary. + +"Come into the coach, madam," said Falconer, seizing one of her hands. +"You remember my promise. I swear I shall keep it though I hang for +it! Don't make a disturbance and compel me to use force, I beg. You +see, the street is deserted." + +"You scoundrel!" she answered. "If you really think you can carry me +off, you're much--" + +"Nay," he broke in, "actresses _are_ carried off, and not always for +the sake of being talked about, neither! Fetch the maid, Richard--I +wouldn't deprive a lady of her proper attendance. Pray pardon +this--you put me to it, madam!" + +With which, he grasped her around the waist, lifted her as if she were +a child, and started with her toward the coach. The footman, a huge +fellow, adopted similar measures with the waiting-woman, who set up a +shrill screaming that made needless any cries on Madge's part. + +Philip and I dashed forward at this, and while I fell upon the +footman, Phil staggered the captain with a blow. As Falconer turned +with an exclamation, to see by whom he was attacked, Madge tore +herself from his relaxed hold, ran to the house door, and set the +knocker going at its loudest. A second blow from Philip sent the +captain reeling against his coach wheel. I, meanwhile, had drawn the +footman from the maid; who now joined her mistress and continued +shrieking at the top of her voice. The fellow, seeing his master +momentarily in a daze, and being alarmed by the knocking and +screaming, was put at a loss. The house door opening, and the noise +bringing people to their windows, and gentlemen rushing out of Jack's +tavern hard by, Master Richard recovered from his irresolution, ran +and forced his master into the coach, got in after him to keep him +there, and shouted to the coachman to drive off. + +"Very well, madam," cried Falconer through the coach door, before it +closed with a bang, "but I'll keep my word yet, I promise you!" +Whereupon, the coach rolled away behind galloping horses. + +Forgetting, in the moment's excitement, my intention of dogging the +captain to his residence, I accompanied Philip to the doorway, where +stood Madge with her maid and a house servant. She was waiting to +thank her protectors, whom, in the rush and partial darkness, she had +not yet recognised. It was, indeed, far from her thoughts that we two, +whom she had left so many years before in America, should turn up at +her side in London at such a moment. + +We took off our hats, and bowed. Her face had already formed a smile +of thanks, when we raised our heads into the light from a candle the +house servant carried. Madge gave a little startled cry of joy, and +looked from one to the other of us to make sure she was not under a +delusion: then fondly murmuring Phil's name and mine in what faint +voice was left her, she made first as if she would fall into his arms; +but recollecting with a look of pain how matters stood between them, +she drew back, steadied herself against the door-post, and dropped her +eyes from his. + +"We should like to talk with you a little, my dear," said Phil gently. +"May we come in?" + +There was a gleam of new-lighted hope in her eyes as she looked up and +answered tremulously: + +"'Twill be a happiness--more than I dared expect." + +We followed the servant with the candle up-stairs to a small +drawing-room, in which a table was set with bread, cheese, cold beef, +and a bottle of claret. + +"'Tis my supper," said Madge. "If I had known I should have such +guests--you will do me the honour, will you not?" + +Her manner was so tentative and humble, so much that of one who scarce +feels a right even to plead, so different from that of the old petted +and radiant Madge, that 'twould have taken a harder man than Philip to +decline. And so, when the servant had placed additional chairs, down +we sat to supper with Miss Warren, of Drury Lane Theatre, who had sent +her maid to answer the inquiries of the alarmed house concerning the +recent tumult in the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_We Intrude upon a Gentleman at a Coffee-house._ + + +Little was eaten at that supper, to which we sat down in a constraint +natural to the situation. Philip was presently about to assume the +burden of opening the conversation, when Madge abruptly began: + +"I make no doubt you recognised him, Bert--the man with the coach." + +"Yes. Philip and I saw him outside the theatre." + +"And followed him, in following you," added Philip. "We had +intended--" + +"You must not suppose--" she interrupted; but, after a moment's halt +of embarrassment, left the sentence unfinished, and made another +beginning: "I never saw him or heard of him, after I left New York, +till I had been three years on the stage. Then, when the war was over, +he came back to London, and chanced to see me play at Drury Lane. He +knew me in spite of my stage name, and during that very performance I +found him waiting in the greenroom. I had no desire for any of his +society, and told him so. But it seems that, finding me--admired, and +successful in the way I had resorted to, he could not be content till +he regained my--esteem. If I had shown myself friendly to him then, I +should soon have been rid of him: but instead, I showed a resolution +to avoid him; and he is the kind of man who can't endure a repulse +from a woman. To say truth, he thinks himself invincible to 'em all, +and when he finds one of 'em proof against him, even though she may +once have seemed--when she didn't know her mind--well, she is the +woman he must be pestering, to show that he's not to be resisted. + +"And so, at last, to be rid of his plaguing, I went away from London, +and took another stage name, and acted in the country. Only Mr. and +Mrs. Sheridan were in the secret of this: 'twas Mr. Sheridan gave me +letters to the country managers. That was in the Fall of '83. Well, I +heard after awhile that he too had gone into the country, to dance +attendance on an old aunt, whose heir he had got the chance of being, +through his cousin's death. But I knew if I came back to London he +would hear of it, and then, sure, farewell to all my peace! He had +continually threatened to carry me off in a coach to some village by +the Channel, and take me across to France in a fishing-smack. When I +declared I would ask the magistrates for protection, he said they +would laugh at me as a play-actress trying to make herself talked +about. I took that to be true, and so, as I've told you, I left +London. + +"Well, after more than two years, I thought he must have put me out of +his mind, and so I returned, and made my reappearance to-night. And, +mercy on me!--there he was, waiting outside the theatre. From his +appearance, I suppose the aunt has died and he has come into the +money. He followed me home, as you saw; and for a moment, when he was +carrying me toward the coach, I vow I had a fear of being rushed away +to a seaport, and taken by force, on some fisherman's boat, across the +Channel. And then, all of a sudden, 'twas as if you two had sprung out +of the earth. Where did you come from? How was it? Oh, tell me +all--all the news! Poor Tom! I thought I should die when I heard of +his death. 'Twas--'twas Falconer told me--how he was killed in a +skirmish with the--What's the matter? Why do you look so? Isn't it +true? I entreat--!" + +"Did Falconer tell you Tom died that way?" I blurted out, hotly, ere +Phil could check me. + +"In truth, he did! How was it?" She had turned white as a sheet. + +"'Twas Falconer killed him in a duel," said I, with indignation, "the +very night after you sailed!" + +"What, Fal--! A duel! My God, on my account, then! Oh, I never knew +that! Oh, Tom--little Tom--the dear little fellow--'twas I killed +him!" She flung her head forward upon the table, and sobbed wildly, so +that I repented of my outspoken anger at Falconer's deception of her. +For some minutes her grief was pitiful to see. If ever there was the +anguish of remorse, it was then. I sat sobered, leaving it to Phil to +apply comfort, which, when her outburst of tears had spent its +violence, he undertook to do. + +"Well, well, Madge," said he, softly, "'tis done and past now, and not +for us to recall. 'Twas an honourable death, such as he would never +have shrunk from; and he has long been past all sorrow. The most of +his life, while it lasted, was happy; and you could never have +foreseen. He will not be unavenged, take my word of that!" + +But it was a long time ere Phil could restore her to composure. When +he had done so, he asked her what had become of Ned. Thereupon she +told us all that I have recorded in a former chapter, of their first +days in London, and the events leading to her acceptance of Mr. +Sheridan's offer. After she had been acting for some time, under the +name of Miss Warren, Ned chanced to come to the play, and recognised +her. He thereupon dogged her, in miserable plight, claiming some +return of the favours which he vowed he had lavished upon her. She put +him upon a small pension, but declared that if he molested her with +further demands she would send him to jail for robbing her. She had +not seen him since; he had called regularly upon her man of business +for his allowance, until lately, when he had ceased to appear. + +Of what had occurred before she turned actress, she told us all, I +say; for the news of Tom's real fate had put her into a state for +withholding nothing. Never was confession more complete; uttered as it +was in a stricken voice, broken as it was by convulsive sobs, marked +as it was by falling tears, hesitations for phrases less likely to +pain Philip, remorseful lowerings of her eyes. She reverted, finally, +to her acquaintance with Falconer in New York, and finished with the +words: + +"But I protest I have never been guilty of the worst--the one thing--I +swear it, Philip; before God, I do!" + +If any load was taken from Phil's mind by this, he refrained from +showing it. + +"I came in search of you," said he, in a low voice, "to see what I +could do toward your happiness. I knew that in your situation, a wife +separated from her husband, dependent on heaven knew what for a +maintenance, you must have many anxious, distressful hours. If I had +known where to find you, I should have sent you money regularly from +the first, and eased your mind with a definite understanding. And now +I wish to do this--nay, I _will_ do it, for it is my right. Whatever +may have happened, you are still the Madge Faringfield I--I loved from +the first; nothing can make you another woman to me: and though you +chose to be no longer my wife, 'tis impossible that while I live I can +cease to be your husband." + +The corners of her lips twitched, but she recovered herself with a +disconsolate sigh. "Chose to be no longer your wife," she repeated. +"Yes, it appeared so. I wanted to shine in the world. I have shone--on +the stage, I mean; but that's far from the way I had looked to. A +woman in my situation--a wife separated from her husband--can never +shine as I had hoped to, I fancy. But I've been admired in a way--and +it hasn't made me happy. Admiration can't make a woman happy if she +has a deeper heart than her desire of admiration will fill. If I could +have forgot, well and good; but I couldn't forget, and can't forget. +And one must have love, and devotion; but after having known yours, +Philip, whose else could I find sufficient?" + +And now there was a pause while each, fearing that the other might not +desire reunion, hesitated to propose it; and so, each one waiting for +the other to say the word, both left it unsaid. When the talk was +finally renewed, it was with a return of the former constraint. + +She asked us, with a little stiffness of manner, when we had come to +London; which led to our relation, between us, of all that had passed +since her departure from New York. She opened her eyes at the news of +our residence in Hampstead, and lost her embarrassment in her glad, +impulsive acceptance of my invitation to come and see us as soon as +possible. While Philip and she still kept their distance, as it were, +I knew not how far to go in cordiality, or I should have pressed her +to come and live with us. She wept and laughed, at the prospect of +seeing Fanny and my mother, and declared they must visit her in town. +And then her tongue faltered as the thought returned of Falconer's +probable interference with the quiet and safety of her further +residence in London; and her face turned anxious. + +"'Faith! you need have no fear on that score," said Philip, quietly. +"Where does he live?" + +She did not know, but she named a club, and a tavern, from which he +had dated importunate letters to her before she left London. + +"Well," said Philip, rising, "I shall see a lawyer to-morrow, and you +may expect to hear from him soon regarding the settlement I make upon +you." + +"You are too kind," she murmured. "I have no right to accept it of +you." + +"Oh, yes, you have. I am always your husband, I tell you; and you will +have no choice but to accept. I know not what income you get by +acting; but this will suffice if you choose to leave the stage." + +"But you?" she replied faintly, rising. "Shall I not see--?" + +"I shall leave England in a few days: I don't know how long I shall be +abroad. But there will be Bert, and Fanny, and Mrs. Russell--I know +you may command them for anything." There was an oppressive pause now, +during which she looked at him wistfully, hoping he might at the last +moment ask her that, which he waited to give her a final opportunity +of asking him. But neither dared, for fear of the other's hesitation +or refusal. And so, at length, with a good-bye spoken in an unnatural +voice on each side, the two exchanged a hand-clasp, and Philip left +the room. She stood pale and trembling, bereft of speech, while I told +her that I should wait upon her soon. Then I followed Philip +down-stairs and to the street. + +"I will stay to-night at Jack's tavern yonder," said he. "I can watch +this house, in case that knave should return to annoy her. Go you +home--Fanny and your mother will be anxious. And come for me to-morrow +at the tavern, as early as you can. You may tell them what you see +fit, at home. That's all, I think--'tis very late. Good night!" + +I sought a hackney-coach, and went home to relieve the fears of the +ladies, occasioned by our long absence. My news that Margaret was +found (I omitted mention of Captain Falconer in my account) put the +good souls into a great flutter of joy and excitement, and they would +have it that they should go in to see her the first thing on the +morrow, a resolution I saw no reason to oppose. So I took them with me +to town in the morning, left them at Madge's lodgings, and was gone to +join Philip ere the laughing and crying of their meeting with her was +half-done. + +As there was little chance to find Captain Falconer stirring early, +Phil and I gave the forenoon to his arrangements with his man of law +at Lincoln's Inn. When these were satisfactorily concluded, and a +visit incidental to them had been made to a bank in the city, we +refreshed ourselves at the Globe tavern in Fleet Street, and then +turned our faces Westward. + +At the tavern that Madge had named, we learned where Falconer abode, +but, proceeding to his lodgings, found he had gone out. We looked in +at various places whither we were directed; but 'twas not till late in +the afternoon, that Philip caught sight of him writing a letter at a +table in the St. James Coffeehouse. + +Philip recognised him from the view he had obtained the previous +night; but, to make sure, he nudged me to look. On my giving a nod of +confirmation, Philip went to him at once, and said: + +"Pray pardon my interrupting: you are Captain Falconer, I believe." + +The captain looked up, and saw only Philip, for I stood a little to +the rear of the former's elbow. + +"I believe so, too, sir," he replied urbanely. + +"Our previous meeting was so brief," said Philip, "that I doubt you +did not observe my face so as to recall it now." + +"That must be the case," said the captain, "for I certainly do not +remember having ever met you." + +"And yet our meeting was no longer ago than last night--in Dean +Street." + +The captain's face changed: he gazed, half in astonishment, half in a +dawning resentment. + +"The deuce, sir! Have you intruded upon me to insult me?" + +"'Faith, sir, I've certainly intruded upon you for no friendly +purpose." + +Falconer continued to gaze, in wonder as well as annoyance. + +"Who the devil are you, sir?" he said at last. + +"My name is Winwood, sir--Captain Winwood, late of the American army +of Independence." + +Falconer opened his eyes wide, parted his lips, and turned a little +pale. At that moment, I shifted my position; whereupon he turned, and +saw me. + +"And Russell, too!" said he. "Well, this is a--an odd meeting, +gentlemen." + +"Not a chance one," said Philip. "I have been some time seeking you." + +"Well, well," replied the captain, recovering his self-possession. "I +imagine I know your purpose, sir." + +"That will spare my explaining it. You will, of course, accommodate +me?" + +"Oh, yes; I see no way out of it. Gad, I'm the most obliging of +men--Mr. Russell will vouch for it." + +"Then I beg you will increase the obligation by letting us despatch +matters without the least delay." + +"Certainly, if you will have it so--though I abominate hurry in all +things." + +"To-morrow at dawn, I hope, will not be too soon for your +preparations?" + +"Why, no, I fancy not. Let me see. One moment, I pray." + +He called a waiter, and asked: + +"Thomas, is there any gentleman of my acquaintance in the house at +present?" + +"Oh, a score, sir. There's Mr. Hidsleigh hup-stairs, and--" + +"Mr. Idsleigh will do. Ask him to grant me the favour of coming down +for a minute." The waiter hastened away. "Mr. Russell, of course, +represents you, sir," the captain added, to Philip. + +"Yes, sir; and you are the challenged party, of course." + +"I thank you, sir. If Mr. Russell will wait, I will introduce my +friend here, and your desire for expedition may be carried out." + +"I am much indebted, sir," said Philip; and requesting me to join him +later at the tavern in Dean Street, he took his leave. + +When Mr. Idsleigh, a fashionable young buck whom I now recalled having +once seen in the company of Lord March, had presented himself, a very +brief explanation on Falconer's part sufficed to enlist his services +as second; whereupon the captain desired affably that he might be +allowed to finish his letter, and Idsleigh and I retired to a +compartment at the farther end of the room. Idsleigh regarded me with +disdainful indifference, and conducted his side of the preliminaries +in a bored fashion, as if the affair were of even less consequence +than Falconer had pretended to consider it. He set me down as a +nobody, a person quite out of the pale of polite society, and one whom +it was proper to have done with in the shortest time, and with the +fewest words, possible. I was equally chary of speech, and it was +speedily settled that our principals should fight with small swords, +at sunrise, at a certain spot in Hyde Park; and Idsleigh undertook to +provide a surgeon. He then turned his back on me, and walked over to +Falconer, without the slightest civility of leave-taking. + +I went first in a hackney-coach to Hyde Park, to ascertain exactly the +spot which Mr. Idsleigh had designated. Having done so, I returned to +Dean Street; and, in order that I might without suspicion accompany +Philip before daybreak, I called at Madge's lodgings, and suggested +that my mother and Fanny should pass the night in her house (in which +I had observed there were rooms to let) and take her to Hampstead the +next day; while I should sleep at the tavern. This plan was readily +adopted. Thereupon, rejoining Philip, I went with him to the Strand, +where he engaged a post-chaise to be in waiting for him and me the +next morning, for our flight in the event of the duel having the fatal +termination he desired. + +"We'll take a hint from Captain Falconer's threat," said Phil: "ride +post to Hastings, and have the Doughty boys sail us across to France. +You'd best write a letter this evening, to leave at Madge's lodgings +after the affair, explaining your departure, to Fanny and your mother. +Afterward, you can either send for them to come to France, or you can +return to Hampstead when the matter blows over. I might have spared +you these inconveniences and risks, by getting another second; but I +knew you wouldn't stand that." + +And there, indeed, he spoke the truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +_The Last, and Most Eventful, of the History._ + + +I took my mother and Fanny to the play that night, to see Madge act, +and we three met her after the performance and were driven to her +lodgings with her. I then bade the ladies good-night, with a secret +tenderness arising from the possibility, unknown to them, that our +parting then might be for as many months as they supposed hours. + +Returning to Philip at the tavern, I found he had passed the evening +in writing letters; among others, one for me to copy in my own name, +to be left at Madge's lodgings in case of my having to flee the +country for awhile. It was so phrased that the result of the duel, +whether in Philip's death or his antagonist's, could be told by the +insertion of a single line, after its occurrence. + +Phil and I rose betimes the next morning, and went by hackney-coach, +in the darkness, to a place in the Oxford road, near Tyburn; where we +left our conveyance waiting, and proceeded afoot to the chosen spot in +the Park. + +No one was there when we arrived, and we paced to and fro together to +keep in exercise, talking in low voices, and beguiling our agitation +by confining our thoughts to a narrow channel. The sod was cool and +soft to our tread, and the smell of the leaves was pleasant to our +nostrils. As the sky whitened above the silent trees, and the gray +light penetrated to the grassy turf at our feet, Phil quoted softly +the line from Grey's Elegy in which the phrase of "incense-breathing +morn" occurs; and from that he went to certain parts of Milton's +"L'Allegro" and then to Shakespeare's songs, "When Daisies Pied" and +"Under the Greenwood Tree." + +"'Faith," said he, breaking off from the poetry, "'tis a marvel how +content I feel! You would not believe it, the serene happiness that +has come over me. 'Tis easy to explain, though: I have adjusted my +affairs, provided for my wife, left nothing in confusion or disorder, +and am as ready for death as for life. I feel at last responsible to +no one; free to accept whatever fate I may incur; clear of burdens. +The great thing, man, is to have one's debts paid, one's obligations +discharged: then death or life matters little, and the mere act of +breathing fresh air is a joy unspeakable." + +We now descried the figures of Falconer, Idsleigh, and a third +gentleman, approaching under the trees. Civil greetings passed as they +came up, and Falconer overwent the demands of mere courtesy so far as +to express himself upon the coolness and sweetness of the morning. But +he was scrutinising Philip curiously the while, as if there were some +reason why he should be less indifferent regarding this antagonist +than he had shown himself regarding Tom Faringfield and me. + +The principals removed their hats, coats, and waistcoats. As they were +not booted, but appeared in stockings and low shoes, they made two +fine and supple figures to look upon. The formalities between Mr. +Idsleigh and me were as brief as possible. Falconer chose his sword +with a pretence of scarce looking at it, Philip gave his the usual +examination, and the two men stood on guard. + +There was a little wary play at first, while each sought an inkling of +the other's method. Then some livelier work, in which they warmed +themselves and got their muscles into complete facility, followed upon +Phil's pretending to lose his guard. All this was but overture, and it +came to a stop for a short pause designed as preliminary to the real +duel. Both were now perspiring, and breathing into their lungs deep +draughts of air. Falconer's expression showed that he had recognised +better fencing in Phil's work than he had thought to find; but Phil's +face conveyed no such surprise, for he had counted upon an adversary +possessed of the first skill. + +'Twas Falconer who began what we all felt was to be the serious part +of the combat. Phil parried the thrust neatly; made a feint, but, +instantly recovering, availed himself of his opponent's counter +movement, and sank his point fair into Falconer's left breast. The +English captain tumbled instantly to the ground. The swiftness of the +thing startled us. Idsleigh and his medical companion stared in +amazement, wondering that the fallen man should lie so still. It took +a second or two for that which their eyes had informed them, to +penetrate to their understanding. But Philip and I knew that the lunge +had pierced the heart, and that the accomplished Lovelace on the +ground would charm no more women. + +'Twas only when we were hastening back to our hackney-coach, that +Philip trembled. Then for a few moments his teeth chattered as if he +were taken with a chill, and his face was deathly pale. + +"'Tis terrible," he said, in an awed tone, "to kill a man this way. +'Tis not like in war. On a morning like this, in the civil manner of +gentlemen, to make of such a marvellous living, thinking, feeling +machine a poor heap of senseless flesh and bone that can only +rot:--and all in the time of a sword-thrust!" + +"Tut!" said I, "the world is the better for the riddance. Think of +Tom, and all else!" + +"I know it," said Phil, conquering his weakness. "And such men know +what they risk when they break into the happiness of others. I could +not have lived in peace while he lived. Well, that is all behind us +now. Yonder is our coach." + +We got in, and were driven to the tavern in Dean Street. We there +dismissed the coach, and Philip started afoot for the inn, in the +Strand, where our post-chaise was to be in readiness. I was to join +him there after completing the letter and leaving it at Madge's +lodgings, Philip using the mean time in attending to the posting of +certain letters of his own. We had no baggage to impede us, as we +intended to purchase new wearables in France: we had, on the previous +day, provided ourselves with money and letters of credit. My affairs +had been so arranged that neither my wife nor my mother could be +pecuniarily embarrassed by my absence. Philip's American passport, +used upon our former travels, was still in force and had been made to +include a travelling companion. So all was smoothed for our flight. + +Taking my letter to the house in which Madge lived, I asked for her +maid, telling the house servant I would wait at the street door: for, +as I did not wish to meet any of the three ladies, I considered it +safer to entrust the letter to Madge's own woman. The girl came down; +but I had no sooner handed her the letter, and told her what to do +with it, than I heard Madge's voice in the hall above. She had come +out to see who wanted her maid, suspecting some trick of Falconer's; +and, leaning over the stair-rail, had recognised my voice. + +"What is it, Bert? Why don't you come up?" + +"I can't--I'm in haste," I blundered. "Good morning!" + +"But wait! What's wrong? A moment, I entreat! Nay, you shall--!" And +at that she came tripping swiftly down the stairs. The maid, +embarrassed, handed her the letter. Without opening it, she advanced +to me, while I was wildly considering the propriety of taking to my +heels; and demanded: + +"What is it you had to write? Sure 'tis your own hand. Why can't you +tell me?" + +"Not so loud," I begged. "My mother and Fanny mustn't know till I am +gone." + +"Gone!" With this she tore open the letter, and seemed to grasp its +general sense in a glance. "A duel! I suspected--from what Philip +said. Oh, my God, was he--?" She scanned the writing wildly, but in +her excitement it conveyed nothing to her mind. + +"Captain Falconer will not annoy you again," I said, "and Philip and I +must go to France for awhile. Good-bye! Let mother and Fanny see the +letter in half an hour." + +"But wait--thank God, he's not hurt!--France, you say? How? Which +road?" + +She was holding my coat lapel, to make me stay and tell her. So I +answered: + +"By post to Hastings; there we shall get the Doughty boys to--" + +At this, there broke in another voice from above stairs--that of +Fanny: + +"Is that Bert, Madge dear?" + +"Tell her 'no,'" I whispered, appalled at thought of a leave-taking, +explanations, weeping, and delay. "And for God's sake, let me--ah, +thank you! Read the letter--you shall hear from us--God bless you +all!" + +The next moment I was speeding from the house, leaving Madge in a +tumult of thoughts at the door. I turned into Gerrard Street without +looking back; and brisk walking soon brought me to the Strand, where +Philip himself was just ready to take the post-chaise. + +"A strange thing delayed me," said he, as we forthwith took our seats +in the vehicle; which we had no sooner done than the postilions set +the four horses going and our journey was begun. + +"What was it?" I asked, willing to reserve the account of my interview +with Madge till later. + +"The most remarkable thing, for me to witness on this particular +morning," he replied; and told me the story as we rattled through +Temple Bar and Fleet Street, on our way to the bridge and the Surrey +side. "After I left you, I don't know what it was that kept me from +coming through St. Martin's Lane to the Strand, and made me continue +East instead. But something did; and finally I turned to come through +Bow Street. When I was nearly in front of the magistrate's house, a +post-chaise stopped before it, and a fellow got out whom I took to be +a Bow Street runner. Several people ran up to see if he had a prisoner +in the chaise, and so the footway was blocked; and I stopped to look +on for a moment with the rest. A man called out to the constable, +'What you got, Bill?' The constable, who had turned around and reached +into the chaise, stopped to look at the speaker, and said, 'Nobody +much--only the Soho Square assault and robbery--I ran him down at +Plymouth, waiting for a vessel--he had a mind to travel for his +health.' The constable grinned, and the other man said, 'Sure that's a +hanging business, and no mistake!'" + +"And so it is," said I, interrupting Philip. "I read of the affair at +the time. A fellow named Howard knocked down his landlady, robbed her +money-box, and got away before she came to." + +"Yes," Phil went on, "I remembered it, too. And I waited for a glimpse +of the robber's face. He stepped out, and the constable, with a +comrade from inside the chaise, led him to where they hold prisoners +for examination. He was all mud-stained, dishevelled, and frowsy: for +two seconds, though he didn't notice me, I had a good view of him. And +who do you think this Howard really was?" + +"Bless me, how should I know? My acquaintance among the criminal +classes isn't what it might be." + +"'Twas Ned Faringfield!" said Philip. "I should have known him +anywhere--heavens, how little a man's looks change, through all +vicissitudes!" + +"Well, upon my soul!" I exclaimed, in a chill. "Who'd have thought it? +Yet hanging is what we always predicted for him, in jest. That it +should come so soon--for they'll make short work of that case, 'tis +certain." + +"Yes, I fear they'll not lose much time over it, at the Old Bailey. We +may expect to read his name among the Newgate hangings in a month or +two. Poor devil!--I'll send him some money through my lawyer, and have +Nobbs see that he gets decent counsel. Money will enable him to live +his last weeks at Newgate in comfort, at least; though 'tis beyond +counsel to save his neck. His people must never know. Nor Fanny." + +"Unless he gives his real name at the trial, or in his 'last dying +speech and confession.'" + +"Why, even then it may not come to their ears. Best bring Fanny and +your mother soon to France. Madge will never tell, if she learns; I'll +warrant her for that. To think of it!--the dear old house in Queen +Street, and the boys and girls we used to play with--Tom's fate--and +now Ned's--Fanny in England--and Madge--! Was ever such diversity of +destinies in so small a family?" + +He fell into his thoughts: of what strange parts we play in the world, +how different from those anybody would predict for us in our +childhood--how different, from those we then predict for ourselves. +And so we were borne across the Thames, looking back to get our last +view of St. Paul's dome for some time to come; through Southwark, and +finally into the country. The postilions kept the horses at a good +gait Southward. We did not urge them to this, for indeed we saw but +little necessity for great haste, as there was likely to be some time +ere Falconer's death became known to the authorities, and some time +longer ere it was traced to us. But as Mr. Idsleigh, before getting +out of the way himself, _might_ take means to lay written information +against us, which would serve at least to put the minions of the law +on the right track, and as we might be subjected to some delay at +Hastings, we saw no reason to repress the postilions' zeal, either. + +In our second stage we were not favoured with so energetic conductors, +and in our third we had unfit horses. So we had occasion to be glad of +our excellent start. Thus, between good horses and bad, live +postilions and lethargic, smooth roads and rough, we fared on the +whole rather well than ill, and felt but the smallest apprehension of +being caught. To speak metaphorically, the coast of France was already +in our sight. + +At the end of the first stage, we had breakfasted upon eggs and beer. +We took an early dinner at Tunbridge Wells, and proceeded through +Sussex. 'Twas well forward in the afternoon, and we were already +preparing our eyes, faces, and nostrils for the refreshing intimation +of the sea, when our ears notified us of a vehicle following in our +wake. Looking back, at a bend of the road, we saw it was a conveyance +similar to our own, and that the postilions were whipping the horses +to their utmost speed. "Whoever rides there," said I, "has paid or +promised well for haste." + +"'Tis strange there should be other folk bound in a hurry for Hastings +this same day," replied Phil. + +We looked at one another, with the same thought. + +"Their post-boys seem to be watching our chaise as much as anything +else," I remarked. "To be sure, they can't know 'tis you and I." + +"No, but if they _were_ in quest of us, they would try to overtake +this chaise or any other on the road. Ho, postilion!--an extra crown +apiece for yourselves if you leave those fellows yonder behind for +good." And Phil added quietly to me: "It won't do to offer 'em too +much at first--'twould make 'em suspicious." + +"But," quoth I, as our men put their horses to the gallop. "How the +devil could any one have got so soon upon our track?" + +"Why, Idsleigh may have turned informer, in his own interest--he was +in a devilish difficult position--and men would be sent with our +descriptions to the post-houses. 'Tis merely possible. Or our +hackney-coachman may have guessed something, and dogged me to the +Strand, and informed. If they found where we started, of course they +could track us from stage to stage. 'Tis best to be safe--though I +scarce think they're in our pursuit." + +"Egad, they're in somebody's!" I cried. "Their postilions are shouting +to ours to stop." + +"Never mind those fellows' holloing," called Philip to our riders. +"'Tis a wager--and I'll double that crown apiece." + +We bowled over the road in a way to make me think of Apollo's chariot +and the horses of Phaeton; but we lengthened not a rod the stretch +betwixt us and our followers, though we nullified their efforts to +diminish it. We could make out, more by sight than by hearing--for we +kept looking back, our heads thrust out at either side--that the +pursuing post-boys continued bawling vehemently at ours. What they +said, was drowned by the clatter of horses and wheels. + +"Well, they have seen we are two men," said Philip, "and still they +keep up the race. They certainly must want us. Were they merely in a +hurry to reach Hastings, they could do that the sooner by sparing +their horses--this is a killing pace." + +"Then we're in a serious plight," said I. "Though we may beat 'em to +Hastings, they will catch us there." + +"Unless we can gain a quarter of an hour's start, and, by one chance +in twenty, find the Doughty boys ashore, and their boat in harbour." + +"Ay, there's one chance in twenty, maybe," I growled, looking gloomily +back, and wishing I might see the pursuing chaise upset, or one of its +horses stumble. + +There is an old proverb about evil wishes rebounding to strike the +sender; and a recollection of this was my paramount thought a moment +later: for at a sharp turn our chaise suddenly seemed to leap into the +air and alight on one wheel, and then turned over sidewise with what +appeared to be a solemn deliberation, piling me upon Philip in a heap. +We felt the conveyance dragged some yards along the road, and then it +came to a stop. A moment later we heard the postilions cursing the +horses, and then we clambered out of the upper side of the chaise, and +leaped into the road. We had been knocked, shaken, and bruised, but +were not seriously hurt. + +"Here's the devil to pay," cried the older postilion excitedly, +turning his attention from the trembling horses to the wrecked +vehicle. + +"We will pay--but you will let us ride your horses the rest of the +way?" asked Phil, quietly, rather as a matter of form than with any +hope of success. + +"No, sir!" roared the man. "Bean't there damage enough? Just look--" + +"Tut, man," said Phil, examining the chaise, "a guinea will mend +all--and there it is, and your extra crowns, too, though you failed. +Well," he added, turning to me, "shall we take to the fields? They'll +have to hunt us afoot then, and we may beat 'em at that." + +But I found I was too lame, from the knocking about I had got in the +upset vehicle, for any game of hare and hounds. "Go you," said I. "I +was only the second--there's less danger for me." + +"I'll not go, then," said he. "What a pity I drew you into this, Bert! +I ought to have considered Fanny and your mother. They'll never +forgive me--they never ought to.--Well, now we shall know the worst!" + +The second vehicle came to a triumphant stop near us, the postilions +grinning with satisfaction. Phil and I stood passive in the road: I +remember wondering whether the officers of the law would put handcuffs +upon us. A head was thrust out of the window--a voice called to us. + +"Madge!" we cried together, and hastened to her. + +"I was afraid you might sail before I got to Hastings," cried she, +with relief and joy depicted on her face. + +"Who is with you?" asked Phil. + +"No one," she answered. "I left Bert's letter with my maid, to give to +Fanny. I left the girl too, to stay with her if she will take her. I +didn't wish to encumber--Your chaise is broken down: get into this +one. Oh, Phil!--I couldn't bear to have you go away--and leave +me--after I had seen you again. 'Twas something to know you were in +London, at least--near me. But if you go to France--you must let me +go, too--you must, dear--as your friend, your comrade and helper, if +nothing more--your old friend, that knew you so long ago--" + +She lost voice here, and began to cry, still looking at him through +the mist of tears. His own eyes glistened softly as he returned her +gaze; and, after a moment, he went close to the window through which +her head was thrust, raised his hand so as to stroke her hair, and +kissed her on the lips. + +"Why, you shall come as my wife, of course," said he, gently. "If I +had been sure you wished it, you might have travelled with us from +London, and been spared this chase.--But think what you are giving up, +dear--'tis not too late--the theatre, the praise and admiration, +London--" + +"Oh, hang 'em all!" cried she, looking joyous through her tears. "'Tis +you I want!" + +And she caught his face between her hands, and kissed it a dozen +times, to the open-mouthed wonder of the staring postilions. + + * * * * * + +She took us in her post-chaise to Hastings, where the three of us +embarked as we had planned to do, having first arranged that one of +the Doughty boys should go to Hampstead and act as a sort of man +servant or protector to my mother and Fanny during their loneliness. +They joined us later in Paris, and I finally accompanied them home +when Captain Falconer's fatal duel was a forgotten matter. Philip and +Madge then visited Italy and Germany; and subsequently returned to New +York, having courageously chosen to outface what old scandal remained +from the time of her flight. And so, despite Phil's prediction, 'tis +finally his children, not mine, that gladden the age of Mr. and Mrs. +Faringfield, and have brought back the old-time cheer to the house; +for Fanny and I have remained in England, and here our young ones are +being reared. Each under the government for which he fought--thus +Philip and I abide. 'Tis no news, that Phil has become one of the +leading architects in his country. My own life has been pleasantly +monotonous, save for the duel I fought against a detractor of General +Washington, which, as I merely wounded my adversary, did not +necessitate another exile from the kingdom. + +It is still an unsolved mystery in London, as to what became of Miss +Warren, the actress of Drury Lane: she was for long reported to have +been carried away by a strange gentleman who killed Captain Falconer +in a duel over her. 'Tis not known in New York that Mrs. Winwood was +ever on the stage. And as I must not yet make it known, nor disclose +many things which have perforce entered into this history, I perceive +that my labour has been, after all, to no purpose. I dare not give the +narrative to the world, now it is done; but I cannot persuade myself +to give it to the fire, either. Let it lie hid, then, till all of us +concerned in it are passed away; and perchance it may serve to +instruct some future reader how much a transient vanity and wilfulness +may wreck, and how much a steadfast love and courage may retrieve. + + +THE END. + + + + +NOTES. + + +NOTE 1 (Page 13). + +Before the Revolution, there were Queen Street and Pearl Street, +together forming a line continuous though not exactly straight. After +the Revolution, the whole line was named Pearl Street. King Street and +Duke Street were others that rightly underwent re-christening. But, +with equal propriety, many old names smacking of the English regime +were retained, and serve as memorials of the English part of the +city's colonial history: such names, for instance, as William Street, +Nassau Street, Hanover Square, Kingsbridge; not to mention New York +itself. The old Dutch rule, too, remains marked in the city's +nomenclature--for ever, let us hope. I say, "let us hope;" for there +have been attempts to have the authorities change the name of the +Bowery itself, that renowned thoroughfare which began, in the very +morn of the city's history, as a lane leading to Peter Stuyvesant's +_bauer_. I scarce think this desecration shall ever come to pass: yet +in such matters one may not be sure of a nation which has permitted +the spoiling (by the mutilation of headlands and cliffs, for private +gain) of a river the most storied in our own land, and the most +beautiful in the world. + + +NOTE 2 (Page 34). + +In 1595 was published in London: "Vincentio Saviolo his Practise. In +two Bookes. The first intreating the use of the Rapier and Dagger. The +second of Honour and Honourable Quarrels." (Etc.) The celebrated +swordsman sets forth only the Italian system, and has naught to say +upon the French. The book that Winwood studied may have been some +reprint (now unknown), with notes or additions by a later hand. In any +case, he may have acquired through it sufficient rudimentary +acquaintance with some sort of practice to enable him to excite the +French fencing-master's interest. + + +NOTE 3 (Page 182). + +"Lady Washington's Light Horse" was a name sometimes unofficially +applied to Lieut.-Col. Baylor's Dragoons. They were sleeping in a barn +and outbuildings, at Old Tappan, one night in the Fall of 1778, when +they were surprised by General Grey, whose men, attacking with +bayonets, killed 11, mangled 25, and took about 40 prisoners. Both +Col. Baylor and Major Clough were wounded, the latter fatally. It is +of course this affair, to which Lieut. Russell's narrative alludes. + + +NOTE 4 (Page 191). + +The Morris house, now known as the Jumel mansion, was half a +generation old at the beginning of the Revolution. Thither, as the +bride of Captain Morris, a brother-officer of Washington's in the old +French war, went Mary Philipse; whom young Washington was said to have +wooed while he tarried in and about New York upon his memorable +journey to Boston to solicit in vain, of Governor Shirley, a king's +commission. The Revolution found the Morrises on the side opposed to +Washington's; for a short time during the operations above New York in +1776 he occupied this house of theirs as headquarters. They lost it +through their allegiance to the royal cause, all their American real +estate being confiscated by the New York assembly. The mansion became +in time the residence of that remarkable woman who, from a barefoot +girl in Providence, R.I., had grown up to be the wife of a Frenchman +named Jumel; and to be the object of much admiration, and the subject +of some scandal. In her widowhood she received under this roof Aaron +Burr, after his duel with Hamilton (whose neighbouring country-house +still exists, in Convent Avenue), and under this roof she and +Burr--both in their old age--were united in marriage. I imagine that +some of the ghosts that haunt this mansion, if they might be got in a +corner, would yield their interviewers a quaint reminiscence or two. +The grounds appertaining to the house have been sadly diminished by +the opening of new streets; yet it is still a fine, striking landmark, +perched to be seen afar, as from the railroad trains that follow the +East bank of the Harlem, or, better, from West 155th Street at and +about its junction with St. Nicholas Place and the Speedway. At the +time when I left New York for a temporary residence in the Old World, +there was talk of moving the house to a less commanding, but still +eminent, height that crowns the bluff rising from the Speedway: the +owner was compelled, it was said, to avail himself of the increased +value of the land whereon it stood. 'Tis some pity if this has been, +or has to be, done; but nothing to the pity if the mansion had to be +pulled down. Apart from all associations and historical interest, this +imposing specimen of our Colonial domestic architecture, so simple and +reposeful an edifice amidst a world of flat buildings, and of gew-gaw +houses built for sale on the instalment plan to the ubiquitous Mr. and +Mrs. Veneering, is a precious relief, nay an untiring delight, to the +eye. + + +NOTE 5 (Page 202). + +During this Winter (1779-80) the Continental army was in two main +divisions. The one with which Washington made his headquarters was +hutted on the heights about Morristown, N.J. The other, under General +Heath, was stationed in the highlands of the Hudson. Intermediate +territory, of course, was more or less thoroughly guarded by detached +posts, militia, and various forces regular and irregular. The most of +the cavalry was quartered in Connecticut; but Winwood's troop, as our +narrative shows, was established near Washington's headquarters. This +was a memorably cold Winter, and as severe upon the patriots as the +more famous Winter (1777-78) at Valley Forge. About the latter part of +January the Hudson was frozen over, almost to its mouth. + + +NOTE 6 (Page 269). + +Long before I fell upon Lieut. Russell's narrative, a detailed account +of a British attempt to capture Washington, by a bold night dash upon +his quarters at Morristown, had caught my eyes from the pages of the +old "New Jersey Historical Collections." Washington was not the only +object of such designs during the War of Independence. One was planned +for the seizure of Governor Livingstone at his home in Elizabeth, +N.J.; but, much to Sir Henry Clinton's disappointment, that +influential and witty champion of independence was not at home when +the surprise party called. + + +NOTE 7 (Page 277). + +Lieut-Gen. Knyphausen was now (January, 1780) temporarily in chief +command at New York, as Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis had +sailed South (December 26, 1779) to attack Charleston and reduce South +Carolina. + + +NOTE 8 (Page 311). + +At that time, the Bristol and Bath stage-coaches took two days for the +trip to London. Madge doubtless would have slept a night or two at +Bristol after her landing; and probably at the Pelican Inn at +Speenhamland (opposite Newbury), the usual midway sleeping-place, at +the end of the first day's ride. But bad weather may have hindered the +journey, and required the passengers to pass more than one night as +inn-guests upon the road. + + +NOTE 9 (Page 325). + +Mrs. Sheridan's surpassing beauty, talent, and amiability are +well-known to all readers; as is the fact that her brilliant husband, +despite their occasional quarrels, was very much in love with her from +first to last. + + +NOTE 10 (Page 359). + +Sir Ralph Winwood, born at Aynho, in Northamptonshire, in 1564, was +frequently sent as envoy to Holland in the reign of James I., by whom +he was knighted in 1603. He was Secretary of State from a date in 1614 +till his death in 1617. His collected papers and letters are entitled, +"Memorials of Affairs of State in the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and +King James I.," etc. His portrait painted by Miereveldt, is in the +National Portrait Gallery in London. + + + + +L.C. Page and Company's + +Announcement of List of New Fiction. + + +Philip Winwood. (50th thousand.) A SKETCH OF THE DOMESTIC HISTORY OF +AN AMERICAN CAPTAIN IN THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE, EMBRACING EVENTS THAT +OCCURRED BETWEEN AND DURING THE YEARS 1763 AND 1785 IN NEW YORK AND +LONDON. WRITTEN BY HIS ENEMY IN WAR, HERBERT RUSSELL, LIEUTENANT IN +THE LOYALIST FORCES. Presented anew by ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author +of "A Gentleman Player," "An Enemy to the King," etc. + + With six full-page illustrations by E.W.D. Hamilton. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages. $1.50 + +"One of the most stirring and remarkable romances that has been +published in a long while, and its episodes, incidents, and actions +are as interesting and agreeable as they are vivid and dramatic. . . . +The print, illustrations, binding, etc., are worthy of the tale, and +the author and his publishers are to be congratulated on a literary +work of fiction which is as wholesome as it is winsome, as fresh and +artistic as it is interesting and entertaining from first to last +paragraph."--_Boston Times_. + + +Breaking the Shackles. By FRANK BARRETT. + + Author of "A Set of Rogues." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +"The story opens well, and maintains its excellence throughout. . . . +The author's triumph is the greater in the unquestionable interest and +novelty which he achieves. The pictures of prison life are most vivid, +and the story of the escape most thrilling."--_The Freeman's Journal, +London_. + + +The Progress of Pauline Kessler. By FREDERIC CARREL. + + Author of "Adventures of John Johns." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A novel that will be widely read and much discussed. A powerful sketch +of an adventuress who has much of the Becky Sharpe in her. The story +is crisply written and told with directness and insight into the ways +of social and political life. The characters are strong types of the +class to which they belong. + + +Ada Vernham, Actress. By RICHARD MARSH. + + Author of "Frivolities," "Tom Ossington's Ghost," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. .$1.50 + +This is a new book by the author of "Frivolities," which was extremely +well received last season. It deals with the inside life of the London +stage, and is of absorbing interest. + + +The Wallet of Kai Lung. By ERNEST BRAMAH. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +This is the first book of a new writer, and is exceedingly well done. +It deals with the fortunes of a Chinese professional storyteller, who +meets with many surprising adventures. The style suggests somewhat the +rich Oriental coloring of the Arabian Nights. + + +Edward Barry: SOUTH SEA PEARLER. By LOUIS BECKE. + + Author of "By Reef and Palm," "Ridan, the Devil," etc. + + With four full-page illustrations by H.C. Edwards. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. $1.50 + +An exceedingly interesting story of sea life and adventure, the scene +of which is laid in the Lagoon Islands of the Pacific. + +This is the first complete novel from the pen of Mr. Becke, and +readers of his collections of short stories will quickly recognize +that the author can write a novel that will grip the reader. Strong, +and even tragic, as is his novel in the main, "Edward Barry" has a +happy ending, and woman's love and devotion are strongly portrayed. + + +Unto the Heights of Simplicity. By JOHANNES REIMERS. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +We take pleasure in introducing to the reading public a writer of +unique charm and individuality. His style is notable for its quaint +poetic idiom and subtle imaginative flavor. In the present story, +he treats with strength and reticence of the relation of the sexes and +the problem of marriage. Certain social abuses and false standards of +morality are attacked with great vigor, yet the plot is so interesting +for its own sake that the book gives no suspicion of being a problem +novel. The descriptions of natural scenery are idyllic in their charm, +and form a fitting background for the love story. + + +The Black Terror. A ROMANCE OF RUSSIA. By JOHN K. LEYS. + + With frontispiece by Victor A. Searles. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A stirring tale of the present day, presenting in a new light the +aims and objects of the Nihilists. The story is so vivid and true to +life that it might easily be considered a history of political intrigue +in Russia, disguised as a novel, while its startling incidents and +strange denouement would only confirm the old adage that "truth +is stranger than fiction," and that great historical events may be +traced to apparently insignificant causes. The hero of the story +is a young Englishman, whose startling resemblance to the Czar is +taken advantage of by the Nihilists for the furtherance of their +plans. + + +The Baron's Sons. By MAURUS JOKAI. + + Author of "Black Diamonds," "The Green Book," "Pretty Michal," etc. + Translated by Percy F. Bicknell. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with photogravure portrait of the + author, 350 pages. $1.50 + +An exceedingly interesting romance of the revolution of 1848, the +scene of which is laid at the courts of St. Petersburg, Moscow, and +Vienna, and in the armies of the Austrians and Hungarians. It follows +the fortunes of three young Hungarian noblemen, whose careers are +involved in the historical incidents of the time. The story is told +with all of Jokai's dash and vigor, and is exceedingly interesting. +This romance has been translated for us directly from the Hungarian, +and never has been issued hitherto in English. + + +Slaves of Chance. By FERRIER LANGWORTHY. + + With five portraits of the heroines, from original drawings by + Hiel. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 350 pages. $1.50 + +As a study of some of the realities of London life, this novel is one +of notable merit. The slaves of chance, and, it might be added, of +temptation, are five pretty girls, the daughters of a pretty widow, +whose means are scarcely sufficient, even living as they do, in a +quiet way and in a quiet London street, to make both ends meet. +Dealing, as he does, with many sides of London life, the writer +sketches varied types of character, and his creations are cleverly +defined. He tells an interesting tale with delicacy and in a fresh, +attractive style. + + +Her Boston Experiences. By MARGARET ALLSTON (nom de plume). + + With eighteen full-page illustrations from drawings by Frank O. + Small, and from photographs taken especially for the book. + + Small 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 225 pages. $1.25 + +A most interesting and vivacious tale, dealing with society life at +the Hub, with perhaps a tinge of the flavor of Vagabondia. The story +has appeared serially in _The Ladies' Home Journal_, where it was +received with marked success. We are not as yet at liberty to give the +true name of the author, who hides her identity under the pen name, +Margaret Allston, but she is well known in literature. + + +Memory Street. By MARTHA BAKER DUNN. + + Author of "The Sleeping Beauty," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +An exceedingly beautiful story, delineating New England life and +character. The style and interest will compare favorably with the work +of such writers as Mary E. Wilkins, Kate Douglas Wiggin, and Sarah +Orne Jewett. The author has been a constant contributor to the leading +magazines, and the interest of her previous work will assure welcome +for her first novel. + + +Winifred. A STORY OF THE CHALK CLIFFS. By S. BARING GOULD. + + Author of "Mehala," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A striking novel of English life in the eighteenth century by this +well known writer. The scene is laid partly in rural Devonshire, and +partly in aristocratic London circles. + + +At the Court of the King: BEING ROMANCES OF FRANCE. By G. HEMBERT +WESTLEY, editor of "For Love's Sweet Sake." + + With a photogravure frontispiece from an original drawing. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +Despite the prophecies of some literary experts, the historical +romance is still on the high tide of popular favor, as exemplified by +many recent successes. We feel justified, consequently, in issuing +these stirring romances of intrigue and adventure, love and war, at +the Courts of the French Kings. + + +God's Rebel. By HULBERT FULLER. + + Author of "Vivian of Virginia." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 375 pages. $1.25 + +A powerful story of sociological questions. The scene is laid in +Chicago, the hero being a professor in "Rockland University," whose +protest against the unequal distribution of wealth and the wretched +condition of workmen gains for him the enmity of the "Savior Oil +Company," through whose influence he loses his position. His after +career as a leader of laborers who are fighting to obtain their rights +is described with great earnestness. The character drawing is vigorous +and varied, and the romantic plot holds the interest throughout. _The +Albany Journal_ is right in pronouncing this novel "an unusually +strong story." It can hardly fail to command an immense reading +public. + + +A Georgian Actress. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE. + + Author of "Mademoiselle de Berny," "Ye Lyttle Salem Maide," etc. + + With four full-page illustrations from drawings by E.W.D. Hamilton. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages. $1.50 + +An interesting romance of the days of George III., dealing with the +life and adventures of a fair and talented young play-actress, the +scene of which is laid in England and America. The success of Miss +Mackie's previous books will justify our prediction that a new volume +will receive an instant welcome. + + +God--The King--My Brother. A ROMANCE. By MARY F. NIXON. + + Author of "With a Pessimist in Spain," "A Harp of Many Chords," etc. + + With a frontispiece by H.C. Edwards. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages. $1.25 + +An historical tale, dealing with the romantic period of Edward the +Black Prince. The scene is laid for the most part in the sunny land of +Spain, during the reign of Pedro the Cruel--the ally in war of the +Black Prince. The well-told story records the adventures of two young +English knight-errants, twin brothers, whose family motto gives the +title to the book. The Spanish maid, the heroine of the romance, is a +delightful characterization, and the love story, with its surprising +yet logical denouement, is enthralling. + + +Punchinello. By FLORENCE STUART. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages. $1.50 + +A love story of intense power and pathos. The hero is a hunchback +(Punchinello), who wins the love of a beautiful young girl. Her sudden +death, due indirectly to his jealousy, and the discovery that she had +never faltered in her love for him, combine to unbalance his mind. The +poetic style relieves the sadness of the story, and the reader is +impressed with the power and brilliancy of its conception, as well as +with the beauty and grace of the execution. + + +The Golden Fleece. Translated from the French of Amedee Achard, author +of "The Huguenot's Love," etc. + + Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 450 pages. $1.50 + +Amedee Achard was a contemporary writer of Dumas, and his romances +are very similar to those of that great writer. "The Golden Fleece" +compares favorably with "The Three Musketeers" and the other +D'Artagnan romances. The story relates the adventures of a young +Gascon gentleman, an officer in the army sent by Louis XIV. to assist +the Austrians in repelling the Turkish Invasion under the celebrated +Achmet Kiuperli. + + +The Good Ship _York_. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. + + Author of "The Wreck of the _Grosvenor_," "A Sailor's Sweetheart," + etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A romantic and exciting sea tale, equal to the best work of this +famous writer, relating the momentous voyage of the clipper ship +_York_, and the adventures that befell Julia Armstrong, a +passenger, and George Hardy, the chief mate. + +"Mr. Russell has no rival in the line of marine fiction."--_Mail and +Express_. + + +Tom Ossington's Ghost. By RICHARD MARSH. + + Author of "Frivolities," "Ada Vernham, Actress," etc. Illustrated + by Harold Pifford. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages. $1.50 + +"I read 'Tom Ossington's Ghost' the other night, and was afraid to go +up-stairs in the dark after it."--_Truth_. + +"An entrancing book, but people with weak nerves had better not read +it at night."--_To-day_. + +"Mr. Marsh has been inspired by an entirely original idea, and has +worked it out with great ingenuity. We like the weird but _not_ +repulsive story better than anything he has ever done."--_World_. + + +The Glory and Sorrow of Norwich. By M.M. BLAKE. + + Author of "The Blues and the Brigands," etc., etc., with twelve + full-page illustrations. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 315 pages. $1.50 + +The hero of this romance, Sir John de Reppes, is an actual personage, +and throughout the characters and incidents are instinct with the +spirit of the age, as related in the chronicles of Froissart. Its main +claim for attention, however, is in the graphic representation of the +age of chivalry which it gives, forming a series of brilliant and +fascinating pictures of mediaeval England, its habits of thought and +manner of life, which live in the mind for many a day after perusal, +and assist to a clearer conception of what is one of the most charming +and picturesque epochs of history. + + +The Mistress of Maidenwood. By HULBERT FULLER. + + Author of "Vivian of Virginia," "God's Rebel," etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +A stirring historical romance of the American Revolution, the scene of +which for the most part being laid in and about the debatable ground +in the vicinity of New York City. + + +Dauntless. A TALE OF A LOST CAUSE. By CAPTAIN EWAN MARTIN. + + Author of "The Knight of King's Guard." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages, illustrated. $1.50 + +A stirring romance of the days of Charles I. and Cromwell in England +and Ireland. In its general character the book invites comparison with +Scott's "Waverley." It well sustains the reputation gained by Captain +Martin from "The Knight of King's Guard." + + +The Flame Of Life. (IL FUOCO.) Translated from the Italian of Gabriel +D'Annunzio, author of "Triumph of Death," etc., by KASSANDRA VIVARIA, +author of "Via Lucis." + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages. $1.50 + +This is the first volume in the Third Trilogy, "The Romances of the +Pomegranate," of the three announced by the great Italian writer. 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