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diff --git a/9845-0.txt b/9845-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5375670 --- /dev/null +++ b/9845-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17414 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spy, by James Fenimore Cooper + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Spy + +Author: James Fenimore Cooper + +Release Date: October 23, 2003 [EBook #9845] +Last updated: December 7, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPY *** + + + + +Produced by PG Distributed Proofreading Team + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Spy + +A TALE OF THE NEUTRAL GROUND + +by James Fenimore Cooper + +EDITED BY +NATHANIEL WARING BARNES + +PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH COMPOSITION IN DE PAUW UNIVERSITY GREENCASTLE, +INDIANA + +Contents + + JAMES FENIMORE COOPER + AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + CHAPTER XXI. + CHAPTER XXII. + CHAPTER XXIII. + CHAPTER XXIV. + CHAPTER XXV. + CHAPTER XXVI. + CHAPTER XXVII. + CHAPTER XXVIII. + CHAPTER XXIX. + CHAPTER XXX. + CHAPTER XXXI. + CHAPTER XXXII. + CHAPTER XXXIII. + CHAPTER XXXIV. + CHAPTER XXXV. + + + + +JAMES FENIMORE COOPER + + +“I believe I could write a better story myself!” With these words, +since become famous, James Fenimore Cooper laid aside the English novel +which he was reading aloud to his wife. A few days later he submitted +several pages of manuscript for her approval, and then settled down to +the task of making good his boast. In November, 1820, he gave the +public a novel in two volumes, entitled _Precaution_. But it was +published anonymously, and dealt with English society in so much the +same way as the average British novel of the time that its author was +thought by many to be an Englishman. It had no originality and no real +merit of any kind. Yet it was the means of inciting Cooper to another +attempt. And this second novel made him famous. + +When _Precaution_ appeared, some of Cooper’s friends protested against +his weak dependence on British models. Their arguments stirred his +patriotism, and he determined to write another novel, using thoroughly +American material. Accordingly he turned to Westchester County, where +he was then living, a county which had been the scene of much stirring +action during a good part of the Revolutionary War, and composed _The +Spy—A Tale of the Neutral Ground_. This novel was published in 1821, +and was immediately popular, both in this country and in England. Soon +it was translated into French, then into other foreign languages, until +it was read more widely than any other tale of the century. Cooper had +written the first American novel. He had also struck an original +literary vein, and he had gained confidence in himself as a writer. + +Following this pronounced success in authorship, Cooper set to work on +a third book and continued for the remainder of his life to devote most +of his time to writing. Altogether he wrote over thirty novels and as +many more works of a miscellaneous character. But much of this writing +has no interest for us at the present time, especially that which was +occasioned by the many controversies in which the rather belligerent +Cooper involved himself. His work of permanent value after _The Spy_ +falls into two groups, the tales of wilderness life and the sea tales. +Both these groups grew directly out of his experiences in early life. + +Cooper was born on September 15, 1789, in Burlington, New Jersey, but +while still very young he was taken to Cooperstown, on the shores of +Otsego Lake, in central New York. His father owned many thousand acres +of primeval forest about this village, and so through the years of a +free boyhood the young Cooper came to love the wilderness and to know +the characters of border life. When the village school was no longer +adequate, he went to study privately in Albany and later entered Yale +College. But he was not interested in the study of books. When, as a +junior, he was expelled from college, he turned to a career in the +navy. Accordingly in the fall of 1806 he sailed on a merchant ship, the +_Sterling_, and for the next eleven months saw hard service before the +mast. Soon after this apprenticeship he received a commission as a +midshipman in the United States navy. Although it was a time of peace, +and he saw no actual fighting, he gained considerable knowledge from +his service on Lake Ontario and Lake Champlain that he put to good use +later. Shortly before his resignation in May, 1811, he had married, and +for several years thereafter he lived along in a pleasant, leisurely +fashion, part of the time in Cooperstown and part of the time in +Westchester County, until almost accidentally he broke into the writing +of his first novel. Aside from the publication of his books, Cooper’s +later life was essentially uneventful. He died at Cooperstown, on +September 14, 1851. + +The connection of Cooper’s best writing with the life he knew at first +hand is thus perfectly plain. In his novels dealing with the +wilderness, popularly known as the Leatherstocking Tales, he drew +directly on his knowledge of the backwoods and backwoodsmen as he +gained it about Cooperstown. In _The Pioneers_ (1823) he dealt with the +scenes of his boyhood, scenes which lay very close to his heart; and in +the other volumes of this series, _The Last of the Mohicans_ (1826), +_The Prairie_ (1827), _The Pathfinder_ (1840), and _The Deerslayer_ +(1841), he continued to write of the trappers and frontiersmen and +outpost garrisons and Indians who made up the forest life he knew so +well. Similarly, in the sea tales, which began with ‘The Pilot’(1823) +and included ‘The Red Rover’(1828), ‘The Two Admirals’ (1842) and ‘The +Wing-and-Wing’(1842), he made full use of his experiences before the +mast and in the navy. The nautical accuracy of these tales of the sea +could scarcely have been attained by a “landlubber”. It has much +practical significance, then, that Cooper chose material which he knew +intimately and which gripped his own interest. His success came like +Thackeray’s and Stevenson’s and Mark Twain’s—without his having to +reach to the other side of the world after his material. + +In considering Cooper’s work as a novelist, nothing is more marked than +his originality. In these days we take novels based on American history +and novels of the sea for granted, but at the time when Cooper +published ‘The Spy’ and ‘The Pilot’ neither an American novel nor a +salt-water novel had ever been written. So far as Americans before +Cooper had written fiction at all, Washington Irving had been the only +one to cease from a timid imitation of British models. But Irving’s +material was local, rather than national. It was Cooper who first told +the story of the conquest of the American continent. He caught the +poetry and the romantic thrill of both the American forest and the sea; +he dared to break away from literary conventions. His reward was an +immediate and widespread success, together with a secure place in the +history of his country’s literature. + +There was probably a two-fold reason for the success which Cooper’s +novels won at home and abroad. In the first place, Cooper could invent +a good story and tell it well. He was a master of rapid, stirring +narrative, and his tales were elemental, not deep or subtle. Secondly, +he created interesting characters who had the restless energy, the +passion for adventure, the rugged confidence, of our American pioneers. +First among these great characters came Harvey Birch in ‘The Spy’, but +Cooper’s real triumph was Natty Bumppo, who appears in all five of the +Leatherstocking Tales. This skilled trapper, faithful guide, brave +fighter, and homely philosopher was “the first real American in +fiction,” an important contribution to the world’s literature. In +addition, Cooper created the Indian of literature—perhaps a little too +noble to be entirely true to life—and various simple, strong seamen. +His Chingachgook and Uncas and Long Tom Coffin justly brought him added +fame. In these narrative gifts, as well as in the robustness of his own +character, Cooper was not unlike Sir Walter Scott. He once modestly +referred to himself as “a chip from Scott’s block” and has frequently +been called “the American Scott.” + +But, of course, Cooper had limitations and faults. When he stepped +outside the definite boundaries of the life he knew, he was unable to +handle character effectively. His women are practically failures, and +like his military officers essentially interchangeable. His humor is +almost invariably labored and tedious. He occasionally allowed long +passages of description or long speeches by some minor character to +clog the progress of his action. Now and then, in inventing his plots, +he strained his readers’ credulity somewhat. Finally, as a result of +his rapid writing, his work is uneven and without style in the sense +that a careful craftsman or a sensitive artist achieves it. He is even +guilty of an occasional error in grammar or word use which the young +pupil in the schools can detect. Yet his literary powers easily +outweigh all these weaknesses. He is unquestionably one of America’s +great novelists and one of the world’s great romancers. + +There is abundant reason, therefore, why Americans of the present day +should know James Fenimore Cooper. He has many a good story of the +wilderness and the sea to tell to those who enjoy tales of adventure. +He gives a vivid, but faithful picture of American frontier life for +those who can know its stirring events and its hardy characters only at +second hand. He holds a peculiarly important place in the history of +American literature, and has done much to extend the reputation of +American fiction among foreigners. + + + + +AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION + + +The author has often been asked if there were any foundation in real +life for the delineation of the principal character in this book. He +can give no clearer answer to the question than by laying before his +readers a simple statement of the facts connected with its original +publication. + +Many years since, the writer of this volume was at the residence of an +illustrious man, who had been employed in various situations of high +trust during the darkest days of the American Revolution. The discourse +turned upon the effects which great political excitement produces on +character, and the purifying consequences of a love of country, when +that sentiment is powerfully and generally awakened in a people. He +who, from his years, his services, and his knowledge of men, was best +qualified to take the lead in such a conversation, was the principal +speaker. After dwelling on the marked manner in which the great +struggle of the nation, during the war of 1775, had given a new and +honorable direction to the thoughts and practices of multitudes whose +time had formerly been engrossed by the most vulgar concerns of life, +he illustrated his opinions by relating an anecdote, the truth of which +he could attest as a personal witness. + +The dispute between England and the United States of America, though +not strictly a family quarrel, had many of the features of a civil war. +The people of the latter were never properly and constitutionally +subject to the people of the former, but the inhabitants of both +countries owed allegiance to a common king. The Americans, as a nation, +disavowed this allegiance, and the English choosing to support their +sovereign in the attempt to regain his power, most of the feelings of +an internal struggle were involved in the conflict. A large proportion +of the emigrants from Europe, then established in the colonies, took +part with the crown; and there were many districts in which their +influence, united to that of the Americans who refused to lay aside +their allegiance, gave a decided preponderance to the royal cause. +America was then too young, and too much in need of every heart and +hand, to regard these partial divisions, small as they were in actual +amount, with indifference. The evil was greatly increased by the +activity of the English in profiting by these internal dissensions; and +it became doubly serious when it was found that attempts were made to +raise various corps of provincial troops, who were to be banded with +those from Europe, to reduce the young republic to subjection. Congress +named an especial and a secret committee, therefore, for the express +purpose of defeating this object. Of this committee Mr.——, the narrator +of the anecdote, was chairman. + +In the discharge of the novel duties which now devolved on him, Mr.—— +had occasion to employ an agent whose services differed but little from +those of a common spy. This man, as will easily be understood, belonged +to a condition in life which rendered him the least reluctant to appear +in so equivocal a character. He was poor, ignorant, so far as the usual +instruction was concerned; but cool, shrewd, and fearless by nature. It +was his office to learn in what part of the country the agents of the +crown were making their efforts to embody men, to repair to the place, +enlist, appear zealous in the cause he affected to serve, and otherwise +to get possession of as many of the secrets of the enemy as possible. +The last he of course communicated to his employers, who took all the +means in their power to counteract the plans of the English, and +frequently with success. + +It will readily be conceived that a service like this was attended with +great personal hazard. In addition to the danger of discovery, there +was the daily risk of falling into the hands of the Americans +themselves, who invariably visited sins of this nature more severely on +the natives of the country than on the Europeans who fell into their +hands. In fact, the agent of Mr. —— was several times arrested by the +local authorities; and, in one instance, he was actually condemned by +his exasperated countrymen to the gallows. Speedy and private orders to +the jailer alone saved him from an ignominious death. He was permitted +to escape; and this seeming and indeed actual peril was of great aid in +supporting his assumed character among the English. By the Americans, +in his little sphere, he was denounced as a bold and inveterate Tory. +In this manner he continued to serve his country in secret during the +early years of the struggle, hourly environed by danger, and the +constant subject of unmerited opprobrium. + +In the year ——, Mr. —— was named to a high and honorable employment at +a European court. Before vacating his seat in Congress, he reported to +that body an outline of the circumstances related, necessarily +suppressing the name of his agent, and demanding an appropriation in +behalf of a man who had been of so much use, at so great risk. A +suitable sum was voted; and its delivery was confided to the chairman +of the secret committee. + +Mr. —— took the necessary means to summon his agent to a personal +interview. They met in a wood at midnight. Here Mr. —— complimented his +companion on his fidelity and adroitness; explained the necessity of +their communications being closed; and finally tendered the money. The +other drew back, and declined receiving it. “The country has need of +all its means,” he said; “as for myself, I can work, or gain a +livelihood in various ways.” Persuasion was useless, for patriotism was +uppermost in the heart of this remarkable individual; and Mr. —— +departed, bearing with him the gold he had brought, and a deep respect +for the man who had so long hazarded his life, unrequited, for the +cause they served in common. + +The writer is under an impression that, at a later day, the agent of +Mr. —— consented to receive a remuneration for what he had done; but it +was not until his country was entirely in a condition to bestow it. + +It is scarcely necessary to add, that an anecdote like this, simply but +forcibly told by one of its principal actors, made a deep impression on +all who heard it. Many years later, circumstances, which it is +unnecessary to relate, and of an entirely adventitious nature, induced +the writer to publish a novel, which proved to be, what he little +foresaw at the time, the first of a tolerably long series. The same +adventitious causes which gave birth to the book determined its scene +and its general character. The former was laid in a foreign country; +and the latter embraced a crude effort to describe foreign manners. +When this tale was published, it became matter of reproach among the +author’s friends, that he, an American in heart as in birth, should +give to the world a work which aided perhaps, in some slight degree, to +feed the imaginations of the young and unpracticed among his own +countrymen, by pictures drawn from a state of society so different from +that to which he belonged. The writer, while he knew how much of what +he had done was purely accidental, felt the reproach to be one that, in +a measure, was just. As the only atonement in his power, he determined +to inflict a second book, whose subject should admit of no cavil, not +only on the world, but on himself. He chose patriotism for his theme; +and to those who read this introduction and the book itself, it is +scarcely necessary to add, that he took the hero of the anecdote just +related as the best illustration of his subject. + +Since the original publication of _The Spy_, there have appeared +several accounts of different persons who are supposed to have been in +the author’s mind while writing the book. As Mr. —— did not mention the +name of his agent, the writer never knew any more of his identity with +this or that individual, than has been here explained. Both Washington +and Sir Henry Clinton had an unusual number of secret emissaries; in a +war that partook so much of a domestic character, and in which the +contending parties were people of the same blood and language, it could +scarcely be otherwise. + +The style of the book has been revised by the author in this edition. +In this respect, he has endeavored to make it more worthy of the favor +with which it has been received; though he is compelled to admit there +are faults so interwoven with the structure of the tale that, as in the +case of a decayed edifice, it would cost perhaps less to reconstruct +than to repair. Five-and-twenty years have been as ages with most +things connected with America. Among other advantages, that of her +literature has not been the least. So little was expected from the +publication of an original work of this description, at the time it was +written, that the first volume of _The Spy_ was actually printed +several months, before the author felt a sufficient inducement to write +a line of the second. The efforts expended on a hopeless task are +rarely worthy of him who makes them, however low it may be necessary to +rate the standard of his general merit. + +One other anecdote connected with the history of this book may give the +reader some idea of the hopes of an American author, in the first +quarter of the present century. As the second volume was slowly +printing, from manuscript that was barely dry when it went into the +compositor’s hands, the publisher intimated that the work might grow to +a length that would consume the profits. To set his mind at rest, the +last chapter was actually written, printed, and paged, several weeks +before the chapters which precede it were even thought of. This +circumstance, while it cannot excuse, may serve to explain the manner +in which the actors are hurried off the scene. + +A great change has come over the country since this book was originally +written. The nation is passing from the gristle into the bone, and the +common mind is beginning to keep even pace with the growth of the body +politic. The march from Vera Cruz to Mexico was made under the orders +of that gallant soldier who, a quarter of a century before, was +mentioned with honor, in the last chapter of this very book. Glorious +as was that march, and brilliant as were its results in a military +point of view, a stride was then made by the nation, in a moral sense, +that has hastened it by an age, in its progress toward real +independence and high political influence. The guns that filled the +valley of the Aztecs with their thunder, have been heard in echoes on +the other side of the Atlantic, producing equally hope or apprehension. + +There is now no enemy to fear, but the one that resides within. By +accustoming ourselves to regard even the people as erring beings, and +by using the restraints that wisdom has adduced from experience, there +is much reason to hope that the same Providence which has so well aided +us in our infancy, may continue to smile on our manhood. + +COOPERSTOWN, _March_ 29, 1849. + +[Illustration: MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE STORY OF THE SPY] + +[The footnotes throughout are Cooper’s own.] + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +And though amidst the calm of thought entire, +Some high and haughty features might betray +A soul impetuous once—’twas earthly fire +That fled composure’s intellectual ray, +As Etna’s fires grow dim before the rising day. + + +—_Gertrude of Wyoming_. + + +It was near the close of the year 1780 that a solitary traveler was +seen pursuing his way through one of the numerous little valleys of +Westchester.[1] The easterly wind, with its chilling dampness and +increasing violence, gave unerring notice of the approach of a storm, +which, as usual, might be expected to continue for several days; and +the experienced eye of the traveler was turned in vain, through the +darkness of the evening, in quest of some convenient shelter, in which, +for the term of his confinement by the rain that already began to mix +with the atmosphere in a thick mist, he might obtain such +accommodations as his purposes required. Nothing whatever offered but +the small and inconvenient tenements of the lower order of the +inhabitants, with whom, in that immediate neighborhood, he did not +think it either safe or politic to trust himself. + +The county of Westchester, after the British had obtained possession of +the island of New York,[2] became common ground, in which both parties +continued to act for the remainder of the war of the Revolution. A +large proportion of its inhabitants, either restrained by their +attachments, or influenced by their fears, affected a neutrality they +did not feel. The lower towns were, of course, more particularly under +the dominion of the crown, while the upper, finding a security from the +vicinity of the continental troops, were bold in asserting their +revolutionary opinions, and their right to govern themselves. Great +numbers, however, wore masks, which even to this day have not been +thrown aside; and many an individual has gone down to the tomb, +stigmatized as a foe to the rights of his countrymen, while, in secret, +he has been the useful agent of the leaders of the Revolution; and, on +the other hand, could the hidden repositories of divers flaming +patriots have been opened to the light of day, royal protections would +have been discovered concealed under piles of British gold. + +At the sound of the tread of the noble horse ridden by the traveler, +the mistress of the farmhouse he was passing at the time might be seen +cautiously opening the door of the building to examine the stranger; +and perhaps, with an averted face communicating the result of her +observations to her husband, who, in the rear of the building, was +prepared to seek, if necessary, his ordinary place of concealment in +the adjacent woods. The valley was situated about midway in the length +of the county, and was sufficiently near to both armies to make the +restitution of stolen goods no uncommon occurrence in that vicinity. It +is true, the same articles were not always regained; but a summary +substitute was generally resorted to, in the absence of legal justice, +which restored to the loser the amount of his loss, and frequently with +no inconsiderable addition for the temporary use of his property. In +short, the law was momentarily extinct in that particular district, and +justice was administered subject to the bias of personal interests and +the passions of the strongest. + +The passage of a stranger, with an appearance of somewhat doubtful +character, and mounted on an animal which, although unfurnished with +any of the ordinary trappings of war, partook largely of the bold and +upright carriage that distinguished his rider, gave rise to many +surmises among the gazing inmates of the different habitations; and in +some instances, where conscience was more than ordinarily awake, to no +little alarm. + +Tired with the exercise of a day of unusual fatigue, and anxious to +obtain a speedy shelter from the increasing violence of the storm, that +now began to change its character to large drops of driving rain, the +traveler determined, as a matter of necessity, to make an application +for admission to the next dwelling that offered. An opportunity was not +long wanting; and, riding through a pair of neglected bars, he knocked +loudly at the outer door of a building of a very humble exterior, +without quitting his saddle. A female of middle age, with an outward +bearing but little more prepossessing than that of her dwelling, +appeared to answer the summons. The startled woman half closed her door +again in affright, as she saw, by the glare of a large wood fire, a +mounted man so unexpectedly near its threshold; and an expression of +terror mingled with her natural curiosity, as she required his +pleasure. + +Although the door was too nearly closed to admit of a minute scrutiny +of the accommodations within, enough had been seen to cause the +horseman to endeavor, once more, to penetrate the gloom, with longing +eyes, in search of a more promising roof, before, with an ill-concealed +reluctance, he stated his necessities and wishes. His request was +listened to with evident unwillingness, and, while yet unfinished, it +was eagerly interrupted by the reply: + +“I can’t say I like to give lodgings to a stranger in these ticklish +times,” said the female, in a pert, sharp key. “I’m nothing but a +forlorn lone body; or, what’s the same thing, there’s nobody but the +old gentleman at home; but a half mile farther up the road is a house +where you can get entertainment, and that for nothing. I am sure ’twill +be much convenienter to them, and more agreeable to me—because, as I +said before, Harvey is away; I wish he’d take advice, and leave off +wandering; he’s well to do in the world by this time; and he ought to +leave off his uncertain courses, and settle himself, handsomely, in +life, like other men of his years and property. But Harvey Birch will +have his own way, and die vagabond after all!” + +The horseman did not wait to hear more than the advice to pursue his +course up the road; but he had slowly turned his horse towards the +bars, and was gathering the folds of an ample cloak around his manly +form, preparatory to facing the storm again, when something in the +speech of the female suddenly arrested the movement. + +“Is this, then, the dwelling of Harvey Birch?” he inquired, in an +involuntary manner, apparently checking himself, as he was about to +utter more. + +“Why, one can hardly say it is his dwelling,” replied the other, +drawing a hurried breath, like one eager to answer; “he is never in it, +or so seldom, that I hardly remember his face, when he does think it +worth his while to show it to his poor old father and me. But it +matters little to me, I’m sure, if he ever comes back again, or +not;—turn in the first gate on your left;—no, I care but little, for my +part, whether Harvey ever shows his face again or not—not I”—and she +closed the door abruptly on the horseman, who gladly extended his ride +a half mile farther, to obtain lodgings which promised both more +comfort and greater security. + +Sufficient light yet remained to enable the traveler to distinguish the +improvements[3] which had been made in the cultivation, and in the +general appearance of the grounds around the building to which he was +now approaching. The house was of stone, long, low, and with a small +wing at each extremity. A piazza, extending along the front, with +neatly turned pillars of wood, together with the good order and +preservation of the fences and outbuildings, gave the place an air +altogether superior to the common farmhouses of the country. After +leading his horse behind an angle of the wall, where it was in some +degree protected from the wind and rain, the traveler threw his valise +over his arm, and knocked loudly at the entrance of the building for +admission. An aged black soon appeared; and without seeming to think it +necessary, under the circumstances, to consult his superiors,—first +taking one prying look at the applicant, by the light of the candle in +his hand,—he acceded to the request for accommodations. The traveler +was shown into an extremely neat parlor, where a fire had been lighted +to cheer the dullness of an easterly storm and an October evening. +After giving the valise into the keeping of his civil attendant, and +politely repeating his request to the old gentleman, who arose to +receive him, and paying his compliments to the three ladies who were +seated at work with their needles, the stranger commenced laying aside +some of the outer garments which he had worn in his ride. + +On taking an extra handkerchief from his neck, and removing a cloak of +blue cloth, with a surtout of the same material, he exhibited to the +scrutiny of the observant family party, a tall and extremely graceful +person, of apparently fifty years of age. His countenance evinced a +settled composure and dignity; his nose was straight, and approaching +to Grecian; his eye, of a gray color, was quiet, thoughtful, and rather +melancholy; the mouth and lower part of his face being expressive of +decision and much character. His dress, being suited to the road, was +simple and plain, but such as was worn by the higher class of his +countrymen; he wore his own hair, dressed in a manner that gave a +military air to his appearance, and which was rather heightened by his +erect and conspicuously graceful carriage. His whole appearance was so +impressive and so decidedly that of a gentleman, that as he finished +laying aside the garments, the ladies arose from their seats, and, +together with the master of the house, they received anew, and returned +the complimentary greetings which were again offered. + +The host was by several years the senior of the traveler, and by his +manner, dress, and everything around him, showed he had seen much of +life and the best society. The ladies were, a maiden of forty, and two +much younger, who did not seem, indeed, to have reached half those +years. The bloom of the elder of these ladies had vanished, but her +eyes and fine hair gave an extremely agreeable expression to her +countenance; and there was a softness and an affability in her +deportment, that added a charm many more juvenile faces do not possess. +The sisters, for such the resemblance between the younger females +denoted them to be, were in all the pride of youth, and the roses, so +eminently the property of the Westchester fair, glowed on their cheeks, +and lighted their deep blue eyes with that luster which gives so much +pleasure to the beholder, and which indicates so much internal +innocence and peace. There was much of that feminine delicacy in the +appearance of the three, which distinguishes the sex in this country; +and, like the gentleman, their demeanor proved them to be women of the +higher order of life. + +After handing a glass of excellent Madeira to his guest, Mr. Wharton, +for so was the owner of this retired estate called, resumed his seat by +the fire, with another in his own hand. For a moment he paused, as if +debating with his politeness, but at length threw an inquiring glance +on the stranger, as he inquired,— + +“To whose health am I to have the honor of drinking?” + +The traveler had also seated himself, and he sat unconsciously gazing +on the fire, while Mr. Wharton spoke; turning his eyes slowly on his +host with a look of close observation, he replied, while a faint tinge +gathered on his features,— + +“Mr. Harper.” + +“Mr. Harper,” resumed the other, with the formal precision of that day, +“I have the honor to drink your health, and to hope you will sustain no +injury from the rain to which you have been exposed.” + +Mr. Harper bowed in silence to the compliment, and he soon resumed the +meditations from which he had been interrupted, and for which the long +ride he had that day made, in the wind, might seem a very natural +apology. + +The young ladies had again taken their seats beside the workstand, +while their aunt, Miss Jeanette Peyton, withdrew to superintend the +preparations necessary to appease the hunger of their unexpected +visitor. A short silence prevailed, during which Mr. Harper was +apparently enjoying the change in his situation, when Mr. Wharton again +broke it, by inquiring whether smoke was disagreeable to his companion; +to which, receiving an answer in the negative, he immediately resumed +the pipe which had been laid aside at the entrance of the traveler. + +There was an evident desire on the part of the host to enter into +conversation, but either from an apprehension of treading on dangerous +ground, or an unwillingness to intrude upon the rather studied +taciturnity of his guest, he several times hesitated, before he could +venture to make any further remark. At length, a movement from Mr. +Harper, as he raised his eyes to the party in the room, encouraged him +to proceed. + +“I find it very difficult,” said Mr. Wharton, cautiously avoiding at +first, such subjects as he wished to introduce, “to procure that +quality of tobacco for my evenings’ amusement to which I have been +accustomed.” + +“I should think the shops in New York might furnish the best in the +country,” calmly rejoined the other. + +“Why—yes,” returned the host in rather a hesitating manner, lifting his +eyes to the face of Harper, and lowering them quickly under his steady +look, “there must be plenty in town; but the war has made communication +with the city, however innocent, too dangerous to be risked for so +trifling an article as tobacco.” + +The box from which Mr. Wharton had just taken a supply for his pipe was +lying open, within a few inches of the elbow of Harper, who took a +small quantity from its contents, and applied it to his tongue, in a +manner perfectly natural, but one that filled his companion with alarm. +Without, however, observing that the quality was of the most approved +kind, the traveler relieved his host by relapsing again into his +meditations. Mr. Wharton now felt unwilling to lose the advantage he +had gained, and, making an effort of more than usual vigor, he +continued,— + +“I wish from the bottom of my heart, this unnatural struggle was over, +that we might again meet our friends and relatives in peace and love.” + +“It is much to be desired,” said Harper, emphatically, again raising +his eyes to the countenance of his host. + +“I hear of no movement of consequence, since the arrival of our new +allies,” said Mr. Wharton, shaking the ashes from his pipe, and turning +his back to the other under the pretense of receiving a coal from his +youngest daughter. + +“None have yet reached the public, I believe.” + +“Is it thought any important steps are about to be taken?” continued +Mr. Wharton, still occupied with his daughter, yet suspending his +employment, in expectation of a reply. + +“Is it intimated any are in agitation?” + +“Oh! nothing in particular; but it is natural to expect some new +enterprise from so powerful a force as that under Rochambeau.” + +Harper made an assenting inclination with his head, but no other reply, +to this remark; while Mr. Wharton, after lighting his pipe, resumed the +subject. + +“They appear more active in the south; Gates and Cornwallis seem +willing to bring the war to an issue there.” + +The brow of Harper contracted, and a deeper shade of melancholy crossed +his features; his eye kindled with a transient beam of fire, that spoke +a latent source of deep feeling. The admiring gaze of the younger of +the sisters had barely time to read its expression, before it passed +away, leaving in its room the acquired composure which marked the +countenance of the stranger, and that impressive dignity which so +conspicuously denotes the empire of reason. + +The elder sister made one or two movements in her chair, before she +ventured to say, in a tone which partook in no small measure of +triumph,— + +“General Gates has been less fortunate with the earl, than with General +Burgoyne.” + +“But General Gates is an Englishman, Sarah,” cried the younger lady, +with quickness; then, coloring to the eyes at her own boldness, she +employed herself in tumbling over the contents of her work basket, +silently hoping the remark would be unnoticed. + +The traveler had turned his face from one sister to the other, as they +had spoken in succession, and an almost imperceptible movement of the +muscles of his mouth betrayed a new emotion, as he playfully inquired +of the younger,— + +“May I venture to ask what inference you would draw from that fact?” + +Frances blushed yet deeper at this direct appeal to her opinions upon a +subject on which she had incautiously spoken in the presence of a +stranger; but finding an answer necessary, after some little +hesitation, and with a good deal of stammering in her manner, she +replied,— + +“Only—only—sir—my sister and myself sometimes differ in our opinions of +the prowess of the British.” A smile of much meaning played on a face +of infantile innocency, as she concluded. + +“On what particular points of their prowess do you differ?” continued +Harper, meeting her look of animation with a smile of almost paternal +softness. + +“Sarah thinks the British are never beaten, while I do not put so much +faith in their invincibility.” + +The traveler listened to her with that pleased indulgence, with which +virtuous age loves to contemplate the ardor of youthful innocence; but +making no reply, he turned to the fire, and continued for some time +gazing on its embers, in silence. + +Mr. Wharton had in vain endeavored to pierce the disguise of his +guest’s political feelings; but, while there was nothing forbidding in +his countenance, there was nothing communicative; on the contrary it +was strikingly reserved; and the master of the house arose, in profound +ignorance of what, in those days, was the most material point in the +character of his guest, to lead the way into another room, and to the +supper table. Mr. Harper offered his hand to Sarah Wharton, and they +entered the room together; while Frances followed, greatly at a loss to +know whether she had not wounded the feelings of her father’s inmate. + +The storm began to rage with great violence without; and the dashing +rain on the sides of the building awakened that silent sense of +enjoyment, which is excited by such sounds in a room of quiet comfort +and warmth, when a loud summons at the outer door again called the +faithful black to the portal. In a minute the servant returned, and +informed his master that another traveler, overtaken by the storm, +desired to be admitted to the house for a shelter through the night. + +At the first sounds of the impatient summons of this new applicant, Mr. +Wharton had risen from his seat in evident uneasiness; and with eyes +glancing with quickness from his guest to the door of the room, he +seemed to be expecting something to proceed from this second +interruption, connected with the stranger who had occasioned the first. +He scarcely had time to bid the black, with a faint voice, to show this +second comer in, before the door was thrown hastily open, and the +stranger himself entered the apartment. He paused a moment, as the +person of Harper met his view, and then, in a more formal manner, +repeated the request he had before made through the servant. Mr. +Wharton and his family disliked the appearance of this new visitor +excessively; but the inclemency of the weather, and the uncertainty of +the consequences, if he were refused the desired lodgings, compelled +the old gentleman to give a reluctant acquiescence. + +Some of the dishes were replaced by the orders of Miss Peyton, and the +weather-beaten intruder was invited to partake of the remains of the +repast, from which the party had just risen. Throwing aside a rough +greatcoat, he very composedly took the offered chair, and +unceremoniously proceeded to allay the cravings of an appetite which +appeared by no means delicate. But at every mouthful he would turn an +unquiet eye on Harper, who studied his appearance with a closeness of +investigation that was very embarrassing to its subject. At length, +pouring out a glass of wine, the newcomer nodded significantly to his +examiner, previously to swallowing the liquor, and said, with something +of bitterness in his manner,— + +“I drink to our better acquaintance, sir; I believe this is the first +time we have met, though your attention would seem to say otherwise.” + +The quality of the wine seemed greatly to his fancy, for, on replacing +the glass upon the table, he gave his lips a smack, that resounded +through the room; and, taking up the bottle, he held it between himself +and the light, for a moment, in silent contemplation of its clear and +brilliant color. + +“I think we have never met before, sir,” replied Harper with a slight +smile on his features, as he observed the move ments of the other; but +appearing satisfied with his scrutiny, he turned to Sarah Wharton, who +sat next him, and carelessly remarked,— + +“You doubtless find your present abode solitary, after being accustomed +to the gayeties of the city.” + +“Oh! excessively so,” said Sarah hastily. “I do wish, with my father, +that this cruel war was at an end, that we might return to our friends +once more.” + +“And you, Miss Frances, do you long as ardently for peace as your +sister?” + +“On many accounts I certainly do,” returned the other, venturing to +steal a timid glance at her interrogator; and, meeting the same +benevolent expression of feeling as before, she continued, as her own +face lighted into one of its animated and bright smiles of +intelligence, “but not at the expense of the rights of my countrymen.” + +“Rights!” repeated her sister, impatiently; “whose rights can be +stronger than those of a sovereign: and what duty is clearer, than to +obey those who have a natural right to command?” + +“None, certainly,” said Frances, laughing with great pleasantry; and, +taking the hand of her sister affectionately within both of her own, +she added, with a smile directed towards Harper,— + +“I gave you to understand that my sister and myself differed in our +political opinions; but we have an impartial umpire in my father, who +loves his own countrymen, and he loves the British,—so he takes sides +with neither.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Wharton, in a little alarm, eying first one guest, and +then the other; “I have near friends in both armies, and I dread a +victory by either, as a source of certain private misfortune.” + +“I take it, you have little reason to apprehend much from the Yankees, +in that way,” interrupted the guest at the table, coolly helping +himself to another glass, from the bottle he had admired. + +“His majesty may have more experienced troops than the continentals,” +answered the host fearfully, “but the Americans have met with +distinguished success.” + +Harper disregarded the observations of both; and, rising, he desired to +be shown to his place of rest. A small boy was directed to guide him to +his room; and wishing a courteous good-night to the whole party, the +traveler withdrew. The knife and fork fell from the hands of the +unwelcome intruder, as the door closed on the retiring figure of +Harper; he arose slowly from his seat; listening attentively, he +approached the door of the room—opened it—seemed to attend to the +retreating footsteps of the other—and, amidst the panic and +astonishment of his companions, he closed it again. In an instant, the +red wig which concealed his black locks, the large patch which hid half +his face from observation, the stoop that had made him appear fifty +years of age, disappeared. + +“My father!-my dear father!”—cried the handsome young man; “and you, my +dearest sisters and aunt!—have I at last met you again?” + +“Heaven bless you, my Henry, my son!” exclaimed the astonished but +delighted parent; while his sisters sank on his shoulders, dissolved in +tears. + +The faithful old black, who had been reared from infancy in the house +of his master, and who, as if in mockery of his degraded state, had +been complimented with the name of Caesar, was the only other witness +of this unexpected discovery of the son of Mr. Wharton. After receiving +the extended hand of his young master, and imprinting on it a fervent +kiss, Caesar withdrew. The boy did not reenter the room; and the black +himself, after some time, returned, just as the young British captain +was exclaiming,— + +“But who is this Mr. Harper?—is he likely to betray me?” + +“No, no, no, Massa Harry,” cried the negro, shaking his gray head +confidently; “I been to see—Massa Harper on he knee—pray to God—no +gemman who pray to God tell of good son, come to see old fader—Skinner +do that—no Christian!” + +This poor opinion of the Skinners was not confined to Mr. Caesar +Thompson, as he called himself—but Caesar Wharton, as he was styled by +the little world to which he was known. The convenience, and perhaps +the necessities, of the leaders of the American arms, in the +neighborhood of New York, had induced them to employ certain +subordinate agents, of extremely irregular habits, in executing their +lesser plans of annoying the enemy. It was not a moment for fastidious +inquiries into abuses of any description, and oppression and injustice +were the natural consequences of the possession of a military power +that was uncurbed by the restraints of civil authority. In time, a +distinct order of the community was formed, whose sole occupation +appears to have been that of relieving their fellow citizens from any +little excess of temporal prosperity they might be thought to enjoy, +under the pretense of patriotism and the love of liberty. + +Occasionally, the aid of military authority was not wanting, in +enforcing these arbitrary distributions of worldly goods; and a petty +holder of a commission in the state militia was to be seen giving the +sanction of something like legality to acts of the most unlicensed +robbery, and, not infrequently, of bloodshed. + +On the part of the British, the stimulus of loyalty was by no means +suffered to sleep, where so fruitful a field offered on which it might +be expended. But their freebooters were enrolled, and their efforts +more systematized. Long experience had taught their leaders the +efficacy of concentrated force; and, unless tradition does great +injustice to their exploits, the result did no little credit to their +foresight. The corps—we presume, from their known affection to that +useful animal—had received the quaint appellation of “Cowboys.” + +Caesar was, however, far too loyal to associate men who held the +commission of George III, with the irregular warriors, whose excesses +he had so often witnessed, and from whose rapacity, neither his poverty +nor his bondage had suffered even him to escape uninjured. The Cowboys, +therefore, did not receive their proper portion of the black’s censure, +when he said, no Christian, nothing but a “Skinner,” could betray a +pious child, while honoring his father with a visit so full of peril. + + [1] As each state of the American Union has its own counties, it often + happens that there are several which bear the same name. The scene of + this tale is in New York, whose county of Westchester is the nearest + adjoining to the city. + + + [2] The city of New York is situated on an island called Manhattan: + but it is at one point separated from the county of Westchester by a + creek of only a few feet in width. The bridge at this spot is called + King’s Bridge. It was the scene of many skirmishes during the war, and + is alluded to in this tale. Every Manhattanese knows the difference + between “Manhattan Island” and the “island of Manhattan.” The first is + applied to a small District in the vicinity of Corlaer’s Hook, while + the last embraces the Whole island; or the city and county of New York + as it is termed in the laws. + + + [3] Improvements is used by the Americans to express every degree of + change in converting land from its state of wilderness to that of + cultivation. In this meaning of the word, it is an improvement to fell + the trees; and it is valued precisely by the supposed amount of the + cost. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +And many a halcyon day he lived to see +Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire, +When fate had reft his mutual heart—but she +Was gone-and Gertrude climbed a widowed father’s knee. + + +—_Gertrude of Wyoming_. + + +The father of Mr. Wharton was a native of England, and of a family +whose parliamentary interest had enabled them to provide for a younger +son in the colony of New York. The young man, like hundreds of others +in this situation, had settled permanently in the country. He married; +and the sole issue of his connection had been sent early in life to +receive the benefits of the English schools. After taking his degrees +at one of the universities of the mother country, the youth had been +suffered to acquire a knowledge of life with the advantages of European +society. But the death of his father recalled him, after passing two +years in this manner, to the possession of an honorable name, and a +very ample estate. + +It was much the fashion of that day to place the youth of certain +families in the army and navy of England, as the regular +stepping-stones to preferment. Most of the higher offices in the +colonies were filled by men who had made arms their profession; and it +was even no uncommon sight to see a veteran warrior laying aside the +sword to assume the ermine on the benches of the highest judicial +authority. + +In conformity with this system, the senior Mr. Wharton had intended his +son for a soldier; but a natural imbecility of character in his child +interfered with his wishes. + +A twelvemonth had been spent by the young man in weighing the +comparative advantages of the different classes of troops, when the +death of his father occurred. The ease of his situation, and the +attentions lavished upon a youth in the actual enjoyment of one of the +largest estates in the colonies, interfered greatly with his ambitious +projects. Love decided the matter; and Mr. Wharton, in becoming a +husband, ceased to think of becoming a soldier. For many years he +continued happy in his family, and sufficiently respected by his +countrymen, as a man of integrity and consequence, when all his +enjoyments vanished, as it were, at a blow. His only son, the youth +introduced in the preceding chapter, had entered the army, and had +arrived in his native country, but a short time before the commencement +of hostilities, with the reinforcements the ministry had thought it +prudent to throw into the disaffected parts of North America. His +daughters were just growing into life, and their education required all +the advantages the city could afford. His wife had been for some years +in declining health, and had barely time to fold her son to her bosom, +and rejoice in the reunion of her family, before the Revolution burst +forth, in a continued blaze, from Georgia to Massachusetts. The shock +was too much for the feeble condition of the mother, who saw her child +called to the field to combat against the members of her own family in +the South, and she sank under the blow. + +There was no part of the continent where the manners of England and its +aristocratical notions of blood and alliances, prevailed with more +force than in a certain circle immediately around the metropolis of New +York. The customs of the early Dutch inhabitants had, indeed, blended +in some measures, with the English manners; but still the latter +prevailed. This attachment to Great Britain was increased by the +frequent intermarriages of the officers of the mother country with the +wealthier and most powerful families of the vicinity, until, at the +commencement of hostilities, their united influence had very nearly +thrown the colony into the scale on the side of the crown. A few, +however, of the leading families espoused the cause of the people; and +a sufficient stand was made against the efforts of the ministerial +party, to organize, and, aided by the army of the confederation, to +maintain an independent republican form of government. + +The city of New York and the adjacent territory were alone exempted +from the rule of the new commonwealth; while the royal authority +extended no further than its dignity could be supported by the presence +of an army. In this condition of things, the loyalists of influence +adopted such measures as best accorded with their different characters +and situations. Many bore arms in support of the crown, and, by their +bravery and exertions, endeavored to secure what they deemed to be the +rights of their prince, and their own estates from the effects of the +law of attainder. Others left the country; seeking in that place they +emphatically called home, an asylum, as they fondly hoped, for a season +only, against the confusion and dangers of war. A third, and a more +wary portion, remained in the place of their nativity, with a prudent +regard to their ample possessions, and, perhaps, influenced by their +attachments to the scenes of their youth. Mr. Wharton was of this +description. After making a provision against future contingencies, by +secretly transmitting the whole of his money to the British funds, this +gentleman determined to continue in the theater of strife, and to +maintain so strict a neutrality as to insure the safety of his large +estate, whichever party succeeded. He was apparently engrossed in the +education of his daughters, when a relation, high in office in the new +state, intimated that a residence in what was now a British camp +differed but little, in the eyes of his countrymen, from a residence in +the British capital. Mr. Wharton soon saw this was an unpardonable +offense in the existing state of things, and he instantly determined to +remove the difficulty, by retiring to the country. He possessed a +residence in the county of Westchester; and having been for many years +in the habit of withdrawing thither during the heats of the summer +months, it was kept furnished and ready for his accommodation. His +eldest daughter was already admitted into the society of women; but +Frances, the younger, required a year or two more of the usual +cultivation, to appear with proper _éclat_; at least so thought Miss +Jeanette Peyton; and as this lady, a younger sister of their deceased +mother, had left her paternal home, in the colony of Virginia, with the +devotedness and affection peculiar to her sex, to superintend the +welfare of her orphan nieces, Mr. Wharton felt that her opinions were +entitled to respect. In conformity to her advice, therefore, the +feelings of the parent were made to yield to the welfare of his +children. + +Mr. Wharton withdrew to the Locusts, with a heart rent with the pain of +separating from all that was left him of a wife he had adored, but in +obedience to a constitutional prudence that pleaded loudly in behalf of +his worldly goods. His handsome town residence was inhabited, in the +meanwhile, by his daughters and their aunt. The regiment to which +Captain Wharton belonged formed part of the permanent garrison of the +city; and the knowledge of the presence of his son was no little relief +to the father, in his unceasing meditations on his absent daughters. +But Captain Wharton was a young man and a soldier; his estimate of +character was not always the wisest; and his propensities led him to +imagine that a red coat never concealed a dishonorable heart. + +The house of Mr. Wharton became a fashionable lounge to the officers of +the royal army, as did that of every other family that was thought +worthy of their notice. The consequences of this association were, to +some few of the visited, fortunate; to more, injurious, by exciting +expectations which were never to be realized, and, unhappily, to no +small number ruinous. The known wealth of the father and, possibly, the +presence of a high-spirited brother, forbade any apprehension of the +latter danger to the young ladies: but it was impossible that all the +admiration bestowed on the fine figure and lovely face of Sarah Wharton +should be thrown away. Her person was formed with the early maturity of +the climate, and a strict cultivation of the graces had made her +decidedly the belle of the city. No one promised to dispute with her +this female sovereignty, unless it might be her younger sister. +Frances, however, wanted some months to the charmed age of sixteen; and +the idea of competition was far from the minds of either of the +affectionate girls. Indeed, next to the conversation of Colonel +Wellmere, the greatest pleasure of Sarah was in contemplating the +budding beauties of the little Hebe, who played around her with all the +innocency of youth, with all the enthusiasm of her ardent temper, and +with no little of the archness of her native humor. Whether or not it +was owing to the fact that Frances received none of the compliments +which fell to the lot of her elder sister, in the often repeated +discussions on the merits of the war, between the military beaux who +frequented the house, it is certain their effects on the sisters were +exactly opposite. It was much the fashion then for the British officers +to speak slightingly of their enemies; and Sarah took all the idle +vaporing of her danglers to be truths. The first political opinions +which reached the ears of Frances were coupled with sneers on the +conduct of her countrymen. At first she believed them; but there was +occasionally a general, who was obliged to do justice to his enemy in +order to obtain justice for himself; and Frances became somewhat +skeptical on the subject of the inefficiency of her countrymen. Colonel +Wellmere was among those who delighted most in expending his wit on the +unfortunate Americans; and, in time, Frances began to listen to his +eloquence with great suspicion, and sometimes with resentment. + +It was on a hot, sultry day that the three were in the parlor of Mr. +Wharton’s house, the colonel and Sarah seated on a sofa, engaged in a +combat of the eyes, aided by the usual flow of small talk, and Frances +was occupied at her tambouring frame in an opposite corner of the room, +when the gentleman suddenly exclaimed,— + +“How gay the arrival of the army under General Burgoyne will make the +city, Miss Wharton!” + +“Oh! how pleasant it must be,” said the thoughtless Sarah, in reply; “I +am told there are many charming women with that army; as you say, it +will make us all life and gayety.” + +Frances shook back the abundance of her golden hair, and raised her +eyes, dancing with the ardor of national feeling; then laughing, with a +concealed humor, she asked,— + +“Is it so certain that General Burgoyne will be permitted to reach the +city?” + +“Permitted!” echoed the colonel. “Who is there to prevent it, my pretty +Miss Fanny?” + +Frances was precisely at that age when young people are most jealous of +their station in society; neither quite a woman, nor yet a child. The +“pretty Miss Fanny” was too familiar to be relished, and she dropped +her eyes on her work again with cheeks that glowed like crimson. + +“General Stark took the Germans into custody,” she answered, +compressing her lip; “may not General Gates think the British too +dangerous to go at large?” + +“Oh! they were Germans, as you say,” cried the colonel, excessively +vexed at the necessity of explaining at all; “mere mercenary troops; +but when the really British regiments come in question, you will see a +very different result.” + +“Of that there is no doubt,” cried Sarah, without in the least +partaking of the resentment of the colonel to her sister, but hailing +already in her heart the triumph of the British. + +“Pray, Colonel Wellmere,” said Frances, recovering her good humor, and +raising her joyous eyes once more to the face of the gentleman, “was +the Lord Percy of Lexington a kinsman of him who fought at Chevy +Chase?” + +“Why, Miss Fanny, you are becoming a rebel,” said the colonel, +endeavoring to laugh away the anger he felt; “what you are pleased to +insinuate was a chase at Lexington, was nothing more than a judicious +retreat—a—kind of—” + +“Running fight,” interrupted the good-humored girl, laying a great +emphasis on the first word. + +“Positively, young lady”—Colonel Wellmere was interrupted by a laugh +from a person who had hitherto been unnoticed. + +There was a small family apartment adjoining the room occupied by the +trio, and the air had blown open the door communicating between the +two. A fine young man was now seen sitting near the entrance, who, by +his smiling countenance, was evidently a pleased listener to the +conversation. He rose instantly, and coming through the door, with his +hat in his hand, appeared a tall, graceful youth, of dark complexion, +and sparkling eyes of black, from which the mirth had not entirely +vanished, as he made his bow to the ladies. + +“Mr. Dunwoodie!” cried Sarah, in surprise; “I was ignorant of your +being in the house; you will find a cooler seat in this room.” + +“I thank you,” replied the young man, “but I must go and seek your +brother, who placed me there in ambuscade, as he called it, with a +promise of returning an hour ago.” Without making any further +explanation, the youth bowed politely to the young women, distantly and +with hauteur to the gentleman, and withdrew. Frances followed him into +the hall, and blushing richly, inquired, in a hurried voice,— + +“But why—why do you leave us, Mr. Dunwoodie? Henry must soon return.” + +The gentleman caught one of her hands in his own, and the stern +expression of his countenance gave place to a look of admiration as he +replied,— + +“You managed him famously, my dear little kinswoman; never—no, never, +forget the land of your birth; remember, if you are the granddaughter +of an Englishman, you are, also, the granddaughter of a Peyton.” + +“Oh!” returned the laughing girl, “it would be difficult to forget +that, with the constant lectures on genealogy before us, with which we +are favored by Aunt Jeanette; but why do you go?” + +“I am on the wing for Virginia, and have much to do.” He pressed her +hand as he spoke, and looking back, while in the act of closing the +door, exclaimed, “Be true to your country—be American.” The ardent girl +kissed her hand to him as he retired, and then instantly applying it +with its beautiful fellow to her burning cheeks, ran into her own +apartment to hide her confusion. + +Between the open sarcasm of Frances, and the ill-concealed disdain of +the young man, Colonel Wellmere had felt himself placed in an awkward +predicament; but ashamed to resent such trifles in the presence of his +mistress, he satisfied himself with observing, superciliously, as +Dunwoodie left the room,— + +“Quite a liberty for a youth in his situation; a shop boy with a +bundle, +I fancy.” + +The idea of picturing the graceful Peyton Dunwoodie as a shop boy could +never enter the mind of Sarah, and she looked around her in surprise, +when the colonel continued,— + +“This Mr. Dun—Dun—” + +“Dunwoodie! Oh, no—he is a relation of my aunt,” cried the young lady, +“and an intimate friend of my brother; they were at school together, +and only separated in England, when one went into the army, and the +other to a French military academy.” + +“His money appears to have been thrown away,” observed the colonel, +betraying the spleen he was unsuccessfully striving to conceal. + +“We ought to hope so,” added Sarah, with a smile, “for it is said he +intends joining the rebel army. He was brought in here in a French +ship, and has just been exchanged; you may soon meet him in arms.” + +“Well, let him—I wish Washington plenty of such heroes;” and he turned +to a more pleasant subject, by changing the discourse to themselves. + +A few weeks after this scene occurred, the army of Burgoyne laid down +their arms. Mr. Wharton, beginning to think the result of the contest +doubtful, resolved to conciliate his countrymen, and gratify himself, +by calling his daughters into his own abode. Miss Peyton consented to +be their companion; and from that time, until the period at which we +commenced our narrative, they had formed one family. + +Whenever the main army made any movements, Captain Wharton had, of +course, accompanied it; and once or twice, under the protection of +strong parties, acting in the neighborhood of the Locusts, he had +enjoyed rapid and stolen interviews with his friends. A twelvemonth +had, however, passed without his seeing them, and the impatient Henry +had adopted the disguise we have mentioned, and unfortunately arrived +on the very evening that an unknown and rather suspicious guest was an +inmate of the house, which seldom contained any other than its regular +inhabitants. + +“But do you think he suspects me?” asked the captain, with anxiety, +after pausing to listen to Caesar’s opinion of the Skinners. + +“How should he?” cried Sarah, “when your sisters and father could not +penetrate your disguise.” + +“There is something mysterious in his manner; his looks are too prying +for an indifferent observer,” continued young Wharton thoughtfully, +“and his face seems familiar to me. The recent fate of André has +created much irritation on both sides. Sir Henry threatens retaliation +for his death; and Washington is as firm as if half the world were at +his command. The rebels would think me a fit subject for their plans +just now, should I be so unlucky as to fall into their hands.” + +“But my son,” cried his father, in great alarm, “you are not a spy; you +are not within the rebel—that is, the American lines; there is nothing +here to spy.” + +“That might be disputed,” rejoined the young man, musing. “Their +pickets were as low as the White Plains when I passed through in +disguise. It is true my purposes are innocent; but how is it to appear? +My visit to you would seem a cloak to other designs. Remember, sir, the +treatment you received not a year since, for sending me a supply of +fruit for the winter.” + +“That proceeded from the misrepresentations of my kind neighbors,” said +Mr. Wharton, “who hoped, by getting my estate confiscated, to purchase +good farms at low prices. Peyton Dunwoodie, however, soon obtained our +discharge; we were detained but a month.” + +“We!” repeated the son, in amazement; “did they take my sisters, also? +Fanny, you wrote me nothing of this.” + +“I believe,” said Frances, coloring highly, “I mentioned the kind +treatment we received from your old friend, Major Dunwoodie; and that +he procured my father’s release.” + +“True; but were you with him in the rebel camp?” + +“Yes,” said the father, kindly; “Fanny would not suffer me to go alone. +Jeanette and Sarah took charge of the Locusts, and this little girl was +my companion, in captivity.” + +“And Fanny returned from such a scene a greater rebel than ever,” cried +Sarah, indignantly; “one would think the hardships her father suffered +would have cured her of such whims.” + +“What say you to the charge, my pretty sister?” cried the captain +gayly; “did Peyton strive to make you hate your king, more than he does +himself?” + +“Peyton Dunwoodie hates no one,” said Frances, quickly; then, blushing +at her own ardor, she added immediately, “he loves you, Henry, I know; +for he has told me so again and again.” + +Young Wharton tapped his sister on the cheek, with a smile, as he asked +her, in an affected whisper, “Did he tell you also that he loved my +little sister Fanny?” + +“Nonsense!” said Frances; and the remnants of the supper-table soon +disappeared under her superintendence. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +’Twas when the fields were swept of Autumn’s store, +And growing winds the fading foliage tore +Behind the Lowmon hill, the short-lived light, +Descending slowly, ushered in the night; +When from the noisy town, with mournful look, +His lonely way the meager peddler took. + + +—WILSON. + + +A storm below the highlands of the Hudson, if it be introduced with an +easterly wind, seldom lasts less than two days. Accordingly, as the +inmates of the Locusts assembled, on the following morning, around +their early breakfast, the driving rain was seen to strike in nearly +horizontal lines against the windows of the building, and forbade the +idea of exposing either man or beast to the tempest. Harper was the +last to appear; after taking a view of the state of the weather, he +apologized to Mr. Wharton for the necessity that existed for his +trespassing on his goodness for a longer time. To appearances, the +reply was as courteous as the excuse; yet Harper wore a resignation in +his deportment that was widely different from the uneasy manner of the +father. Henry Wharton had resumed his disguise with a reluctance +amounting to disgust, but in obedience to the commands of his parent. +No communications passed between him and the stranger, after the first +salutations of the morning had been paid by Harper to him, in common +with the rest of the family. Frances had, indeed, thought there was +something like a smile passing over the features of the traveler, when, +on entering the room, he first confronted her brother; but it was +confined to the eyes, seeming to want power to affect the muscles of +the face, and was soon lost in the settled and benevolent expression +which reigned in his countenance, with a sway but seldom interrupted. +The eyes of the affectionate sister were turned in anxiety, for a +moment, on her brother, and glancing again on their unknown guest, met +his look, as he offered her, with marked attention, one of the little +civilities of the table; and the heart of the girl, which had begun to +throb with violence, regained a pulsation as tempered as youth, health, +and buoyant spirits could allow. While yet seated at the table, Caesar +entered, and laying a small parcel in silence by the side of his +master, modestly retired behind his chair, where, placing one hand on +its back, he continued in an attitude half familiar, half respectful, a +listener. + +“What is this, Caesar?” inquired Mr. Wharton, turning the bundle over +to examine its envelope, and eying it rather suspiciously. + +“The ’baccy, sir; Harvey Birch, he got home, and he bring you a little +good ’baccy from York.” + +“Harvey Birch!” rejoined the master with great deliberation, stealing a +look at his guest. “I do not remember desiring him to purchase any +tobacco for me; but as he has brought it, he must be paid for his +trouble.” + +For an instant only, as the negro spoke, did Harper suspend his silent +meal; his eye moved slowly from the servant to the master, and again +all remained in impenetrable reserve. + +To Sarah Wharton, this intelligence gave unexpected pleasure; rising +from her seat with impatience, she bade the black show Birch into the +apartment; when, suddenly recollecting herself, she turned to the +traveler with an apologizing look, and added, “If Mr. Harper will +excuse the presence of a peddler.” + +The indulgent benevolence expressed in the countenance of the stranger, +as he bowed a silent acquiescence, spoke more eloquently than the +nicest framed period, and the young lady repeated her order, with a +confidence in its truth that removed all embarrassment. + +In the deep recesses of the windows of the cottage were seats of +paneled work; and the rich damask curtains, that had ornamented the +parlor in Queen Street,[4] had been transferred to the Locusts, and +gave to the room that indescribable air of comfort, which so gratefully +announces the approach of a domestic winter. Into one of these recesses +Captain Wharton now threw himself, drawing the curtain before him in +such a manner as to conceal most of his person from observation; while +his younger sister, losing her natural frankness of manner, in an air +of artificial constraint, silently took possession of the other. + +Harvey Birch had been a peddler from his youth; at least so he +frequently asserted, and his skill in the occupation went far to prove +the truth of the declaration. He was a native of one of the eastern +colonies; and, from something of superior intelligence which belonged +to his father, it was thought they had known better fortune in the land +of their nativity. Harvey possessed, however, the common manners of the +country, and was in no way distinguished from men of his class, but by +his acuteness, and the mystery which enveloped his movements. Ten years +before, they had arrived together in the vale, and, purchasing the +humble dwelling at which Harper had made his unsuccessful application, +continued ever since peaceful inhabitants, but little noticed and but +little known. Until age and infirmities had prevented, the father +devoted himself to the cultivation of the small spot of ground +belonging to his purchase, while the son pursued with avidity his +humble barter. Their orderly quietude had soon given them so much +consideration in the neighborhood, as to induce a maiden of +five-and-thirty to forget the punctilio of her sex, and to accept the +office of presiding over their domestic comforts. The roses had long +before vanished from the cheeks of Katy Haynes, and she had seen in +succession, both her male and female acquaintances forming the union so +desirable to her sex, with but little or no hope left for herself, +when, with views of her own, she entered the family of the Birches. +Necessity is a hard master, and, for the want of a better companion, +the father and son were induced to accept her services; but still Katy +was not wanting in some qualities which made her a very tolerable +housekeeper. On the one hand, she was neat, industrious, honest, and a +good manager. On the other, she was talkative, selfish, superstitious, +and inquisitive. By dint of using the latter quality with consummate +industry, she had not lived in the family five years when she +triumphantly declared that she had heard, or rather overheard, +sufficient to enable her to say what had been the former fate of her +associates. Could Katy have possessed enough of divination to pronounce +upon their future lot, her task would have been accomplished. From the +private conversations of the parent and child, she learned that a fire +had reduced them from competence to poverty, and at the same time +diminished the number of their family to two. There was a tremulousness +in the voice of the father, as he touched lightly on the event, which +affected even the heart of Katy; but no barrier is sufficient to repel +vulgar curiosity. She persevered, until a very direct intimation from +Harvey, by threatening to supply her place with a female a few years +younger than herself, gave her awful warning that there were bounds +beyond which she was not to pass. From that period the curiosity of the +housekeeper had been held in such salutary restraint, that, although no +opportunity of listening was ever neglected, she had been able to add +but little to her stock of knowledge. There was, however, one piece of +intelligence, and that of no little interest to herself, which she had +succeeded in obtaining; and from the moment of its acquisition, she +directed her energies to the accomplishment of one object, aided by the +double stimulus of love and avarice. + +Harvey was in the frequent habit of paying mysterious visits in the +depth of the night, to the fireplace of the apartment that served for +both kitchen and parlor. Here he was observed by Katy; and availing +herself of his absence and the occupations of the father, by removing +one of the hearthstones, she discovered an iron pot, glittering with a +metal that seldom fails to soften the hardest heart. Katy succeeded in +replacing the stone without discovery, and never dared to trust herself +with another visit. From that moment, however, the heart of the virgin +lost its obduracy, and nothing interposed between Harvey and his +happiness, but his own want of observation. + +The war did not interfere with the traffic of the peddler, who seized +on the golden opportunity which the interruption of the regular trade +afforded, and appeared absorbed in the one grand object of amassing +money. For a year or two his employment was uninterrupted, and his +success proportionate; but, at length, dark and threatening hints began +to throw suspicion around his movements, and the civil authority +thought it incumbent on them to examine narrowly into his mode of life. +His imprisonments, though frequent, were not long; and his escapes from +the guardians of the law easy, compared to what he endured from the +persecution of the military. Still Birch survived, and still he +continued his trade, though compelled to be very guarded in his +movements, especially whenever he approached the northern boundaries of +the county; or in other words, the neighborhood of the American lines. +His visits to the Locusts had become less frequent, and his appearance +at his own abode so seldom, as to draw forth from the disappointed +Katy, in the fullness of her heart, the complaint we have related, in +her reply to Harper. Nothing, however, seemed to interfere with the +pursuits of this indefatigable trader, who, with a view to dispose of +certain articles for which he could only find purchasers in the very +wealthiest families of the county, had now braved the fury of the +tempest, and ventured to cross the half mile between his own residence +and the house of Mr. Wharton. + +In a few minutes after receiving the commands of his young mistress, +Caesar reappeared, ushering into the apartment the subject of the +foregoing digression. In person, the peddler was a man above the middle +height, spare, but full of bone and muscle. At first sight, his +strength seemed unequal to manage the unwieldy burden of his pack; yet +he threw it on and off with great dexterity, and with as much apparent +ease as if it had been filled with feathers. His eyes were gray, +sunken, restless, and, for the flitting moments that they dwelt on the +countenance of those with whom he conversed, they seemed to read the +very soul. They possessed, however, two distinct expressions, which, in +a great measure, characterized the whole man. When engaged in traffic, +the intelligence of his face appeared lively, active, and flexible, +though uncommonly acute; if the conversation turned on the ordinary +transactions of life, his air became abstracted and restless; but if, +by chance, the Revolution and the country were the topic, his whole +system seemed altered—all his faculties were concentrated: he would +listen for a great length of time, without speaking, and then would +break silence by some light and jocular remark, that was too much at +variance with his former manner, not to be affectation. But of the war, +and of his father, he seldom spoke and always from some very obvious +necessity. + +To a superficial observer, avarice would seem his ruling passion—and, +all things considered, he was as unfit a subject for the plans of Katy +Haynes as can be readily imagined. On entering the room, the peddler +relieved himself from his burden, which, as it stood on the floor, +reached nearly to his shoulders, and saluted the family with modest +civility. To Harper he made a silent bow, without lifting his eyes from +the carpet; but the curtain prevented any notice of the presence of +Captain Wharton. Sarah gave but little time for the usual salutations, +before she commenced her survey of the contents of the pack; and, for +several minutes, the two were engaged in bringing to light the various +articles it contained. The tables, chairs, and floor were soon covered +with silks, crapes, gloves, muslins, and all the stock of an itinerant +trader. Caesar was employed to hold open the mouth of the pack, as its +hoards were discharged, and occasionally he aided his young lady, by +directing her admiration to some article of finery, which, from its +deeper contrast in colors, he thought more worthy of her notice. At +length, Sarah, having selected several articles, and satisfactorily +arranged the prices, observed in a cheerful voice,— + +“But, Harvey, you have told us no news. Has Lord Cornwallis beaten the +rebels again?” + +The question could not have been heard; for the peddler, burying his +body in the pack, brought forth a quantity of lace of exquisite +fineness, and, holding it up to view, he required the admiration of the +young lady. Miss Peyton dropped the cup she was engaged in washing, +from her hand; and Frances exhibited the whole of that lovely face, +which had hitherto only suffered one of its joyous eyes to be seen, +beaming with a color that shamed the damask which enviously concealed +her figure. + +The aunt quitted her employment; and Birch soon disposed of a large +portion of his valuable article. The praises of the ladies had drawn +the whole person of the younger sister into view; and Frances was +slowly rising from the window, as Sarah repeated her question, with an +exultation in her voice, that proceeded more from pleasure in her +purchase, than her political feelings. The younger sister resumed her +seat, apparently examining the state of the clouds, while the peddler, +finding a reply was expected, answered,— + +“There is some talk, below, about Tarleton having defeated General +Sumter, on the Tiger River.” + +Captain Wharton now involuntarily thrust his head between the opening +of the curtains into the room; and Frances, turning her ear in +breathless silence, noticed the quiet eyes of Harper looking at the +peddler, over the book he was affecting to read, with an expression +that denoted him to be a listener of no ordinary interest. + +“Indeed!” cried the exulting Sarah; “Sumter—Sumter—who is he? I’ll not +buy even a pin, until you tell me all the news,” she continued, +laughing and throwing down a muslin she had been examining. + +For a moment the peddler hesitated; his eye glanced towards Harper, who +was yet gazing at him with settled meaning, and the whole manner of +Birch was altered. Approaching the fire, he took from his mouth a large +allowance of the Virginian weed, and depositing it, with the +superabundance of its juices, without mercy to Miss Peyton’s shining +andirons, he returned to his goods. + +“He lives somewhere among the niggers to the south,” answered the +peddler, abruptly. + +“No more nigger than be yourself, Mister Birch,” interrupted Caesar +tartly, dropping at the same time the covering of the goods in high +displeasure. + +“Hush, Caesar—hush; never mind it now,” said Sarah Wharton soothingly, +impatient to hear further. + +“A black man so good as white, Miss Sally,” continued the offended +negro, “so long as he behave heself.” + +“And frequently he is much better,” rejoined his mistress. “But, +Harvey, who is this Mr. Sumter?” + +A slight indication of humor showed itself on the face of the peddler, +but it disappeared, and he continued as if the discourse had met with +no interruption from the sensitiveness of the domestic. + +“As I was saying, he lives among the colored people in the +south”—Caesar resumed his occupation—“and he has lately had a scrimmage +with this Colonel Tarleton—” + +“Who defeated him, of course?” cried Sarah, with confidence. + +“So say the troops at Morrisania.” + +“But what do you say?” Mr. Wharton ventured to inquire, yet speaking in +a low tone. + +“I repeat but what I hear,” said Birch, offering a piece of cloth to +the inspection of Sarah, who rejected it in silence, evidently +determined to hear more before she made another purchase. + +“They say, however, at the Plains,” the peddler continued, first +throwing his eyes again around the room, and letting them rest for an +instant on Harper, “that Sumter and one or two more were all that were +hurt, and that the rig’lars were all cut to pieces, for the militia +were fixed snugly in a log barn.” + +“Not very probable,” said Sarah, contemptuously, “though I make no +doubt the rebels got behind the logs.” + +“I think,” said the peddler coolly, again offering the silk, “it’s +quite ingenious to get a log between one and a gun, instead of getting +between a gun and a log.” + +The eyes of Harper dropped quietly on the pages of the volume in his +hand, while Frances, rising, came forward with a smile in her face, as +she inquired, in a tone of affability that the peddler had never +witnessed from her,— + +“Have you more of the lace, Mr. Birch?” + +The desired article was immediately produced, and Frances became a +purchaser also. By her order a glass of liquor was offered to the +trader, who took it with thanks, and having paid his compliments to the +master of the house and the ladies, drank the beverage. + +“So, it is thought that Colonel Tarleton has worsted General Sumter?” +said Mr. Wharton, affecting to be employed in mending the cup that was +broken by the eagerness of his sister-in-law. + +“I believe they think so at Morrisania,” said Birch, dryly. + +“Have you any other news, friend?” asked Captain Wharton, venturing to +thrust his face without the curtains. + +“Have you heard that Major André has been hanged?” + +Captain Wharton started, and for a moment glances of great significance +were exchanged between him and the trader, when he observed, with +affected indifference, “That must have been some weeks ago.” + +“Does his execution make much noise?” asked the father, striving to +make the broken china unite. + +“People will talk, you know, ’squire.” + +“Is there any probability of movements below, my friend, that will make +traveling dangerous?” asked Harper, looking steadily at the other, in +expectation of his reply. + +Some bunches of ribbons fell from the hands of Birch; his countenance +changed instantly, losing its keen expression in intent meaning, as he +answered slowly, “It is some time since the rig’lar cavalry were out, +and I saw some of De Lancey’s men cleaning their arms, as I passed +their quarters; it would be no wonder if they took the scent soon, for +the Virginia horse are low in the county.” + +“Are they in much force?” asked Mr. Wharton, suspending all employment +in anxiety. + +“I did not count them.” + +Frances was the only observer of the change in the manner of Birch, +and, on turning to Harper, he had resumed his book in silence. She took +some of the ribbons in her hand—laid them down again—and, bending over +the goods, so that her hair, falling in rich curls, shaded her face, +she observed, blushing with a color that suffused her neck,— + +“I thought the Southern horse had marched towards the Delaware.” + +“It may be so,” said Birch; “I passed the troops at a distance.” + +Caesar had now selected a piece of calico, in which the gaudy colors of +yellow and red were contrasted on a white ground, and, after admiring +it for several minutes, he laid it down with a sigh, as he exclaimed, +“Berry pretty calico.” + +“That,” said Sarah; “yes, that would make a proper gown for your wife, +Caesar.” + +“Yes, Miss Sally,” cried the delighted black, “it make old Dinah heart +leap for joy—so berry genteel.” + +“Yes,” added the peddler, quaintly, “that is only wanting to make Dinah +look like a rainbow.” + +Caesar eyed his young mistress eagerly, until she inquired of Harvey +the price of the article. + +“Why, much as I light of chaps,” said the peddler. + +“How much?” demanded Sarah in surprise. + +“According to my luck in finding purchasers; for my friend Dinah, you +may have it at four shillings.” + +“It is too much,” said Sarah, turning to some goods for herself. + +“Monstrous price for coarse calico, Mister Birch,” grumbled Caesar, +dropping the opening of the pack again. + +“We will say three, then,” added the peddler, “if you like that +better.” + +“Be sure he like ’em better,” said Caesar, smiling good-humoredly, and +reopening the pack; “Miss Sally like a t’ree shilling when she give, +and a four shilling when she take.” + +The bargain was immediately concluded; but in measuring, the cloth +wanted a little of the well-known ten yards required by the dimensions +of Dinah. By dint of a strong arm, however, it grew to the desired +length, under the experienced eye of the peddler, who conscientiously +added a ribbon of corresponding brilliancy with the calico; and Caesar +hastily withdrew, to communicate the joyful intelligence to his aged +partner. + +During the movements created by the conclusion of the purchase, Captain +Wharton had ventured to draw aside the curtain, so as to admit a view +of his person, and he now inquired of the peddler, who had begun to +collect the scattered goods, at what time he had left the city. + +“At early twilight,” was the answer. + +“So lately!” cried the other in surprise: then correcting his manner, +by assuming a more guarded air, he continued, “Could you pass the +pickets at so late an hour?” + +“I did,” was the laconic reply. + +“You must be well known by this time, Harvey, to the officers of the +British army,” cried Sarah, smiling knowingly on the peddler. + +“I know some of them by sight,” said Birch, glancing his eyes round the +apartment, taking in their course Captain Wharton, and resting for an +instant on the countenance of Harper. + +Mr. Wharton had listened intently to each speaker, in succession, and +had so far lost the affectation of indifference, as to be crushing in +his hand the pieces of china on which he had expended so much labor in +endeavoring to mend it; when, observing the peddler tying the last knot +in his pack, he asked abruptly, + +“Are we about to be disturbed again with the enemy?” + +“Who do you call the enemy?” said the peddler, raising himself erect, +and giving the other a look, before which the eyes of Mr. Wharton sank +in instant confusion. + +“All are enemies who disturb our peace,” said Miss Peyton, observing +that her brother was unable to speak. “But are the royal troops out +from below?” + +“’Tis quite likely they soon may be,” returned Birch, raising his pack +from the floor, and preparing to leave the room. + +“And the continentals,” continued Miss Peyton mildly, “are the +continentals in the county?” + +Harvey was about to utter something in reply, when the door opened, and +Caesar made his appearance, attended by his delighted spouse. + +The race of blacks of which Caesar was a favorable specimen is becoming +very rare. The old family servant who, born and reared in the dwelling +of his master, identified himself with the welfare of those whom it was +his lot to serve, is giving place in every direction to that vagrant +class which has sprung up within the last thirty years, and whose +members roam through the country unfettered by principles, and +uninfluenced by attachments. For it is one of the curses of slavery, +that its victims become incompetent to the attributes of a freeman. The +short curly hair of Caesar had acquired from age a coloring of gray, +that added greatly to the venerable cast of his appearance. Long and +indefatigable applications of the comb had straightened the close curls +of his forehead, until they stood erect in a stiff and formal brush, +that gave at least two inches to his stature. The shining black of his +youth had lost its glistening hue, and it had been succeeded by a dingy +brown. His eyes, which stood at a most formidable distance from each +other, were small, and characterized by an expression of good feeling, +occasionally interrupted by the petulance of an indulged servant; they, +however, now danced with inward delight. His nose possessed, in an +eminent manner, all the requisites for smelling, but with the most +modest unobtrusiveness; the nostrils being abundantly capacious, +without thrusting themselves in the way of their neighbors. His mouth +was capacious to a fault, and was only tolerated on account of the +double row of pearls it contained. In person Caesar was short, and we +should say square, had not all the angles and curves of his figure bid +defiance to anything like mathematical symmetry. His arms were long and +muscular, and terminated by two bony hands, that exhibited on one side +a coloring of blackish gray, and on the other, a faded pink. But it was +in his legs that nature had indulged her most capricious humor. There +was an abundance of material injudiciously used. The calves were +neither before nor behind, but rather on the outer side of the limb, +inclining forward, and so close to the knee as to render the free use +of that joint a subject of doubt. In the foot, considering it as a base +on which the body was to rest, Caesar had no cause of complaint, +unless, indeed, it might be that the leg was placed so near the center, +as to make it sometimes a matter of dispute, whether he was not walking +backwards. But whatever might be the faults a statuary could discover +in his person, the heart of Caesar Thompson was in the right place, +and, we doubt not, of very just dimensions. + +Accompanied by his ancient companion, Caesar now advanced, and paid his +tribute of gratitude in words. Sarah received them with great +complacency, and made a few compliments to the taste of the husband, +and the probable appearance of the wife. Frances, with a face beaming +with a look of pleasure that corresponded to the smiling countenances +of the blacks, offered the service of her needle in fitting the admired +calico to its future uses. The offer was humbly and gratefully +accepted. + +As Caesar followed his wife and the peddler from the apartment, and was +in the act of closing the door, he indulged himself in a grateful +soliloquy, by saying aloud,— + +“Good little lady—Miss Fanny—take care of he fader—love to make a gown +for old Dinah, too.” What else his feelings might have induced him to +utter is unknown, but the sound of his voice was heard some time after +the distance rendered his words indistinct. + +Harper had dropped his book, and he sat an admiring witness of the +scene; and Frances enjoyed a double satisfaction, as she received an +approving smile from a face which concealed, under the traces of deep +thought and engrossing care, the benevolent expression which +characterizes all the best feelings of the human heart. + + [4] The Americans changed the names of many towns and streets at the + Revolution, as has since been done in France. Thus, in the city of New + York, Crown Street has become Liberty Street; King Street, Pine + Street; and Queen Street, then one of the most fashionable quarters of + the town, Pearl Street. Pearl Street is now chiefly occupied by the + auction dealers, and the wholesale drygoods merchants, for warehouses + and counting-rooms. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +“It is the form, the eye, the word, +The bearing of that stranger lord, +His stature, manly, bold, and tall, +Built like a castle’s battled wall, +Yet molded in such just degrees +His giant strength seems lightsome ease. +Weather and war their rougher trace +Have left on that majestic face; +But ’tis his dignity of eye! +There, if a suppliant, would I fly, +Secure, ’mid danger, wrongs, and grief, +Of sympathy, redress, relief— +That glance, if guilty, would I dread +More than the doom that spoke me dead.” +“Enough, enough!” the princess cried, +“’Tis Scotland’s hope, her joy, her pride!” + + +—WALTER SCOTT. + + +The party sat in silence for many minutes after the peddler had +withdrawn. Mr. Wharton had heard enough to increase his uneasiness, +without in the least removing his apprehensions on behalf of his son. +The captain was impatiently wishing Harper in any other place than the +one foe occupied with such apparent composure, while Miss Peyton +completed the disposal of her breakfast equipage, with the mild +complacency of her nature, aided a little by an inward satisfaction at +possessing so large a portion of the trader’s lace; Sarah was busily +occupied in arranging her purchases, and Frances was kindly assisting +in the occupation, disregarding her own neglected bargains, when the +stranger suddenly broke the silence by saying,— + +“If any apprehensions of me induce Captain Wharton to maintain his +disguise, I wish him to be undeceived; had I motives for betraying him, +they could not operate under present circumstances.” + +The younger sister sank into her seat colorless and astonished. Miss +Peyton dropped the tea tray she was lifting from the table, and Sarah +sat with her purchases unheeded in her lap, in speechless surprise. Mr. +Wharton was stupefied; but the captain, hesitating a moment from +astonishment, sprang into the middle of the room, and exclaimed, as he +tore off the instruments of his disguise,— + +“I believe you from my soul, and this tiresome imposition shall +continue no longer. Yet I am at a loss to conceive in what manner you +should know me.” + +“You really look so much better in your proper person, Captain +Wharton,” said Harper, with a slight smile, “I would advise you never +to conceal it in future. There is enough to betray you, if other +sources of detection were wanting.” As he spoke, he pointed to a +picture suspended over the mantel piece, which exhibited the British +officer in his regimentals. + +“I had flattered myself,” cried young Wharton, with a laugh, “that I +looked better on the canvas than in a masquerade. You must be a close +observer, sir.” + +“Necessity has made me one,” said Harper, rising from his seat. + +Frances met him as he was about to withdraw, and, taking his hand +between both her own, said with earnestness, her cheeks mantling with +their richest vermilion, “You cannot—you will not betray my brother.” + +For an instant Harper paused in silent admiration of the lovely +pleader, and then, folding her hands on his breast, he replied +solemnly, “I cannot, and I will not.” He released her hands, and laying +his own on her head gently, continued, “If the blessing of a stranger +can profit you, receive it.” He turned, and, bowing low, retired, with +a delicacy that was duly appreciated by those he quitted, to his own +apartment. + +The whole party were deeply impressed with the ingenuous and solemn +manner of the traveler, and all but the father found immediate relief +in his declaration. Some of the cast-off clothes of the captain, which +had been removed with the goods from the city, were produced; and young +Wharton, released from the uneasiness of his disguise, began at last to +enjoy a visit which had been undertaken at so much personal risk to +himself. Mr. Wharton retiring to his apartment, in pursuance of his +regular engagements, the ladies, with the young man, were left to an +uninterrupted communication on such subjects as were most agreeable. +Even Miss Peyton was affected with the spirits of her young relatives; +and they sat for an hour enjoying, in heedless confidence, the +pleasures of an unrestrained conversation, without reflecting on any +danger which might be impending over them. The city and their +acquaintances were not long neglected; for Miss Peyton, who had never +forgotten the many agreeable hours of her residence within its +boundaries, soon inquired, among others, after their old acquaintance, +Colonel Wellmere. + +“Oh!” cried the captain, gayly, “he yet continues there, as handsome +and as gallant as ever.” + +Although a woman be not actually in love, she seldom hears without a +blush the name of a man whom she might love, and who has been connected +with herself by idle gossips, in the amatory rumor of the day. Such had +been the case with Sarah, and she dropped her eyes on the carpet with a +smile, that, aided by the blush which suffused her cheek, in no degree +detracted from her native charms. + +Captain Wharton, without heeding this display of interest in his +sister, immediately continued, “At times he is melancholy—we tell him +it must be love.” Sarah raised her eyes to the face of her brother, and +was consciously turning them on the rest of the party, when she met +those of her sister laughing with good humor and high spirits, as she +cried, “Poor man! does he despair?” + +“Why, no—one would think he could not; the eldest son of a man of +wealth, so handsome, and a colonel.” + +“Strong reasons, indeed, why he should prevail,” said Sarah, +endeavoring to laugh; “more particularly the latter.” + +“Let me tell you,” replied the captain, gravely, “a lieutenant +colonelcy in the Guards is a very pretty thing.” + +“And Colonel Wellmere a very pretty man,” added Frances. + +“Nay, Frances,” returned her sister, “Colonel Wellmere was never a +favorite of yours; he is too loyal to his king to be agreeable to your +taste.” + +Frances quickly answered, “And is not Henry loyal to his king?” + +“Come, come,” said Miss Peyton, “no difference of opinion about the +colonel—he is a favorite of mine.” + +“Fanny likes majors better,” cried the brother, pulling her upon his +knee. + +“Nonsense!” said the blushing girl, as she endeavored to extricate +herself from the grasp of her laughing brother. + +“It surprises me,” continued the captain, “that Peyton, when he +procured the release of my father, did not endeavor to detain my sister +in the rebel camp.” + +“That might have endangered his own liberty,” said the smiling girl, +resuming her seat. “You know it is liberty for which Major Dunwoodie is +fighting.” + +“Liberty!” exclaimed Sarah; “very pretty liberty which exchanges one +master for fifty.” + +“The privilege of changing masters at all is a liberty.” + +“And one you ladies would sometimes be glad to exercise,” cried the +captain. + +“We like, I believe, to have the liberty of choosing who they shall be +in the first place,” said the laughing girl. “Don’t we, Aunt Jeanette?” + +“Me!” cried Miss Peyton, starting; “what do I know of such things, +child? You must ask someone else, if you wish to learn such matters.” + +“Ah! you would have us think you were never young! But what am I to +believe of all the tales I have heard about the handsome Miss Jeanette +Peyton?” + +“Nonsense, my dear, nonsense,” said the aunt, endeavoring to suppress a +smile; “it is very silly to believe all you hear.” + +“Nonsense, do you call it?” cried the captain, gayly. “To this hour +General Montrose toasts Miss Peyton; I heard him within the week, at +Sir +Henry’s table.” + +“Why, Henry, you are as saucy as your sister; and to break in upon your +folly, I must take you to see my new home-made manufactures, which I +will be bold enough to put in contrast with the finery of Birch.” + +The young people rose to follow their aunt, in perfect good humor with +each other and the world. On ascending the stairs to the place of +deposit for Miss Peyton’s articles of domestic economy, she availed +herself, however, of an opportunity to inquire of her nephew, whether +General Montrose suffered as much from the gout as he had done when she +knew him. + +It is a painful discovery we make, as we advance in life, that even +those we most love are not exempt from its frailties. When the heart is +fresh, and the view of the future unsullied by the blemishes which have +been gathered from the experience of the past, our feelings are most +holy: we love to identify with the persons of our natural friends all +those qualities to which we ourselves aspire, and all those virtues we +have been taught to revere. The confidence with which we esteem seems a +part of our nature; and there is a purity thrown around the affections +which tie us to our kindred that after life can seldom hope to see +uninjured. The family of Mr. Wharton continued to enjoy, for the +remainder of the day, a happiness to which they had long been +strangers; and one that sprang, in its younger members, from the +delights of the most confident affection, and the exchange of the most +disinterested endearments. + +Harper appeared only at the dinner table, and he retired with the +cloth, under the pretense of some engagement in his own room. +Notwithstanding the confidence created by his manner, the family felt +his absence a relief; for the visit of Captain Wharton was necessarily +to be confined to a very few days, both from the limitation of his +leave of absence, and the danger of a discovery. + +All dread of consequences, however, was lost in the pleasure of the +meeting. Once or twice during the day, Mr. Wharton had suggested a +doubt as to the character of his unknown guest, and the possibility of +the detection of his son proceeding in some manner from his +information; but the idea was earnestly opposed by all his children; +even Sarah uniting with her brother and sister in pleading warmly in +favor of the sincerity expressed in the outward appearance of the +traveler. + +“Such appearances, my children,” replied the desponding parent, “are +but too often deceitful; when men like Major André lend themselves to +the purposes of fraud, it is idle to reason from qualities, much less +externals.” + +“Fraud!” cried his son quickly. “Surely, sir, you forget that Major +André was serving his king, and that the usages of war justified the +measure.” + +“And did not the usages of war justify his death, Henry?” inquired +Frances, speaking in a low voice, unwilling to abandon what she thought +the cause of her country, and yet unable to suppress her feelings for +the man. + +“Never!” exclaimed the young man, springing from his seat, and pacing +the floor rapidly. “Frances, you shock me; suppose it should be my +fate, even now, to fall into the power of the rebels; you would +vindicate my execution—perhaps exult in the cruelty of Washington.” + +“Henry!” said Frances, solemnly, quivering with emotion, and with a +face pale as death, “you little know my heart.” + +“Pardon me, my sister—my little Fanny,” cried the repentant youth, +pressing her to his bosom, and kissing off the tears which had burst, +spite of her resolution, from her eyes. + +“It is very foolish to regard your hasty words, I know,” said Frances, +extricating herself from his arms, and raising her yet humid eyes to +his face with a smile; “but reproach from those we love is most severe, +Henry; particularly—where we—we think—we know”—her paleness gradually +gave place to the color of the rose, as she concluded in a low voice, +with her eyes directed to the carpet, “we are undeserving of it.” + +Miss Peyton moved from her own seat to the one next her niece, and, +kindly taking her hand, observed, “You should not suffer the +impetuosity of your brother to affect you so much; boys, you know, are +proverbially ungovernable.” + +“And, from my conduct, you might add cruel,” said the captain, seating +himself on the other side of his sister. “But on the subject of the +death of André we are all of us uncommonly sensitive. You did not know +him: he was all that was brave—that was accomplished—that was +estimable.” Frances smiled faintly, and shook her head, but made no +reply. Her brother, observing the marks of incredulity in her +countenance, continued, “You doubt it, and justify his death?” + +“I do not doubt his worth,” replied the maid, mildly, “nor his being +deserving of a more happy fate; but I cannot doubt the propriety of +Washington’s conduct. I know but little of the customs of war, and wish +to know less; but with what hopes of success could the Americans +contend, if they yielded all the principles which long usage had +established, to the exclusive purposes of the British?” + +“Why contend at all?” cried Sarah, impatiently. “Besides, being rebels, +all their acts are illegal.” + +“Women are but mirrors, which reflect the images before them,” cried +the captain, good-naturedly. “In Frances I see the picture of Major +Dunwoodie, and in Sarah—” + +“Colonel Wellmere,” interrupted the younger sister, laughing, and +blushing crimson. “I must confess I am indebted to the major for my +reasoning—am I not, Aunt Jeanette?” + +“I believe it is something like his logic, indeed, child.” + +“I plead guilty; and you. Sarah, have not forgotten the learned +discussions of Colonel Wellmere.” + +“I trust I never forget the right,” said Sarah, emulating her sister in +color, and rising, under the pretense of avoiding the heat of the fire. + +Nothing occurred of any moment during the rest of the day; but in the +evening Caesar reported that he had overheard voices in the room of +Harper, conversing in a low tone. The apartment occupied by the +traveler was the wing at the extremity of the building, opposite to the +parlor in which the family ordinarily assembled; and it seems that +Caesar had established a regular system of espionage, with a view to +the safety of his young master. This intelligence gave some uneasiness +to all the members of the family; but the entrance of Harper himself, +with the air of benevolence and sincerity which shone through his +reserve, soon removed the doubts from the breast of all but Mr. +Wharton. His children and sister believed Caesar to have been mistaken, +and the evening passed off without any additional alarm. + +On the afternoon of the succeeding day, the party were assembled in the +parlor around the tea table of Miss Peyton, when a change in the +weather occurred. The thin _scud_, that apparently floated but a short +distance above the tops of the hills, began to drive from the west +towards the east in astonishing rapidity. The rain yet continued to +beat against the eastern windows of the house with fury; in that +direction the heavens were dark and gloomy. Frances was gazing at the +scene with the desire of youth to escape from the tedium of +confinement, when, as if by magic, all was still. The rushing winds had +ceased, the pelting of the storm was over, and, springing to the +window, with delight pictured in her face, she saw a glorious ray of +sunshine lighting the opposite wood. The foliage glittered with the +checkered beauties of the October leaf, reflecting back from the +moistened boughs the richest luster of an American autumn. In an +instant, the piazza, which opened to the south, was thronged with the +inmates of the cottage. The air was mild, balmy, and refreshing; in the +east, clouds, which might be likened to the retreating masses of a +discomfited army, hung around the horizon in awful and increasing +darkness. At a little elevation above the cottage, the thin vapor was +still rushing towards the east with amazing velocity; while in the west +the sun had broken forth and shed his parting radiance on the scene +below, aided by the fullest richness of a clear atmosphere and a +freshened herbage. Such moments belong only to the climate of America, +and are enjoyed in a degree proportioned to the suddenness of the +contrast, and the pleasure we experience in escaping from the +turbulence of the elements to the quiet of a peaceful evening, and an +air still as the softest mornings in June. + +“What a magnificent scene!” said Harper, in a low tone. “How grand! how +awfully sublime!—may such a quiet speedily await the struggle in which +my country is engaged, and such a glorious evening follow the day of +her adversity!” + +Frances, who stood next to him, alone heard the voice. Turning in +amazement from the view to the speaker, she saw him standing +bareheaded, erect, and with his eyes lifted to heaven. There was no +longer the quiet which had seemed their characteristic, but they were +lighted into something like enthusiasm, and a slight flush passed over +his features. + +There can be no danger apprehended from such a man, thought Frances; +such feelings belong only to the virtuous. + +The musings of the party were now interrupted by the sudden appearance +of the peddler. He had taken advantage of the first gleam of sunshine +to hasten to the cottage. Heedless of wet or dry as it lay in his path, +with arms swinging to and fro, and with his head bent forward of his +body several inches, Harvey Birch approached the piazza, with a gait +peculiarly his own. It was the quick, lengthened pace of an itinerant +vender of goods. + +“Fine evening,” said the peddler, saluting the party, without raising +his eyes; “quite warm and agreeable for the season.” + +Mr. Wharton assented to the remark, and inquired kindly after the +health of his father. Harvey heard him, and continued standing for some +time in moody silence; but the question being repeated, he answered +with a slight tremor in his voice,— + +“He fails fast; old age and hardships will do their work.” The peddler +turned his face from the view of most of the family; but Frances +noticed his glistening eyes and quivering lip, and, for the second +time, Harvey rose in her estimation. + +The valley in which the residence of Mr. Wharton stood ran in a +direction from northwest to southeast, and the house was placed on the +side of a hill which terminated its length in the former direction. A +small opening, occasioned by the receding of the opposite hill, and the +fall of the land to the level of the tide water, afforded a view of the +Sound[5] over the tops of the distant woods on its margin. The surface +of the water which had so lately been lashing the shores with +boisterous fury, was already losing its ruffled darkness in the long +and regular undulations that succeeded a tempest, while the light air +from the southwest was gently touching their summits, lending its +feeble aid in stilling the waters. Some dark spots were now to be +distinguished, occasionally rising into view, and again sinking behind +the lengthened waves which interposed themselves to the sight. They +were unnoticed by all but the peddler. He had seated himself on the +piazza, at a distance from Harper, and appeared to have forgotten the +object of his visit. His roving eye, however, soon caught a glimpse of +these new objects in the view, and he sprang up with alacrity, gazing +intently towards the water. He changed his place, glanced his eye with +marked uneasiness on Harper, and then said with great emphasis— + +“The rig’lars must be out from below.” + +“Why do you think so?” inquired Captain Wharton, eagerly. “God send it +may be true; I want their escort in again.” + +“Them ten whaleboats would not move so fast unless they were better +manned than common.” + +“Perhaps,” cried Mr. Wharton in alarm, “they are—they are continentals +returning from the island.” + +“They look like rig’lars,” said the peddler, with meaning. + +“Look!” repeated the captain, “there is nothing but spots to be seen.” + +Harvey disregarded his observation, but seemed to be soliloquizing, as +he said in an undertone, “They came out before the gale—have laid on +the island these two days—horse are on the road—there will soon be +fighting near us.” During this speech, Birch several times glanced his +eye towards Harper, with evident uneasiness, but no corresponding +emotion betrayed any interest of that gentleman in the scene. He stood +in silent contemplation of the view, and seemed enjoying the change in +the air. As Birch concluded, however, Harper turned to his host, and +mentioned that his business would not admit of unnecessary delay; he +would, therefore, avail himself of the fine evening to ride a few miles +on his journey. Mr. Wharton made many professions of regret at losing +so agreeable an inmate; but was too mindful of his duty not to speed +the parting guest, and orders were instantly given to that effect. + +The uneasiness of the peddler increased in a manner for which nothing +apparent could account; his eye was constantly wandering towards the +lower end of the vale as if in expectation of some interruption from +that quarter. At length Caesar appeared, leading the noble beast which +was to bear the weight of the traveler. The peddler officiously +assisted to tighten the girths, and fasten the blue cloak and valise to +the mailstraps. + +Every precaution being completed, Harper proceeded to take his leave. +To Sarah and her aunt he paid his compliments with ease and kindness; +but when he came to Frances, he paused a moment, while his face assumed +an expression of more than ordinary benignity. His eye repeated the +blessing which had before fallen from his lips, and the girl felt her +cheeks glow, and her heart beat with a quicker pulsation, as he spoke +his adieus. There was a mutual exchange of polite courtesy between the +host and his parting guest; but as Harper frankly offered his hand to +Captain Wharton, he remarked, in a manner of great solemnity,— + +“The step you have undertaken is one of much danger, and disagreeable +consequences to yourself may result from it; in such a case, I may have +it in my power to prove the gratitude I owe your family for its +kindness.” + +“Surely, sir,” cried the father, losing sight of delicacy in +apprehension for his child, “you will keep secret the discovery which +your being in my house has enabled you to make?” + +Harper turned quickly to the speaker, and then, losing the sternness +which had begun to gather on his countenance, he answered mildly, “I +have learned nothing in your family, sir, of which I was ignorant +before; but your son is safer from my knowledge of his visit than he +would be without it.” + +He bowed to the whole party, and without taking any notice of the +peddler, other than by simply thanking him for his attentions, mounted +his horse, and, riding steadily and gracefully through the little gate, +was soon lost behind the hill which sheltered the valley to the +northward. + +The eyes of the peddler followed the retiring figure of the horseman so +long as it continued within view, and as it disappeared from his sight, +he drew a long and heavy sigh, as if relieved from a load of +apprehension. The Whartons had meditated in silence on the character +and visit of their unknown guest for the same period, when the father +approached Birch and observed, + +“I am yet your debtor, Harvey, for the tobacco you were so kind as to +bring me from the city.” + +“If it should not prove so good as the first,” replied the peddler, +fixing a last and lingering look in the direction of Harper’s route, +“it is owing to the scarcity of the article.” + +“I like it much,” continued the other; “but you have forgotten to name +the price.” + +The countenance of the trader changed, and, losing its expression of +deep care in a natural acuteness, he answered,— + +“It is hard to say what ought to be the price; I believe I must leave +it to your own generosity.” + +Mr. Wharton had taken a hand well filled with the images of Carolus III +from his pocket, and now extended it towards Birch with three of the +pieces between his finger and thumb. Harvey’s eyes twinkled as he +contemplated the reward; and rolling over in his mouth a large quantity +of the article in question, coolly stretched forth his hand, into which +the dollars fell with a most agreeable sound: but not satisfied with +the transient music of their fall, the peddler gave each piece in +succession a ring on the stepping-stone of the piazza, before he +consigned it to the safekeeping of a huge deerskin purse, which +vanished from the sight of the spectators so dexterously, that not one +of them could have told about what part of his person it was secreted. + +This very material point in his business so satisfactorily completed, +the peddler rose from his seat on the floor of the piazza, and +approached to where Captain Wharton stood, supporting his sisters on +either arm, as they listened with the lively interest of affection to +his conversation. + +The agitation of the preceding incidents had caused such an expenditure +of the juices which had become necessary to the mouth of the peddler, +that a new supply of the weed was required before he could turn his +attention to business of lesser moment. This done, he asked abruptly,— + +“Captain Wharton, do you go in to-night?” + +“No!” said the captain, laconically, and looking at his lovely burdens +with great affection. “Mr. Birch, would you have me leave such company +so soon, when I may never enjoy it again?” + +“Brother!” said Frances, “jesting on such a subject is cruel.” + +“I rather guess,” continued the peddler, coolly, “now the storm is +over, the Skinners may be moving; you had better shorten your visit, +Captain Wharton.” + +“Oh!” cried the British officer, “a few guineas will buy off those +rascals at any time, should I meet them. No, no, Mr. Birch, here I stay +until morning.” + +“Money could not liberate Major André,” said the peddler, dryly. + +Both the sisters now turned to the captain in alarm, and the elder +observed,— + +“You had better take the advice of Harvey; rest assured, his opinion in +such matters ought not to be disregarded.” + +“Yes,” added the younger, “if, as I suspect, Mr. Birch assisted you to +come here, your safety, our happiness, dear Henry, requires you to +listen to him now.” + +“I brought myself out, and can take myself in,” said the captain +positively. “Our bargain went no further than to procure my disguise, +and to let me know when the coast was clear; and in the latter +particular, you were mistaken, Mr. Birch.” + +“I was,” said the peddler, with some interest, “and the greater is the +reason why you should get back to-night; the pass I gave you will serve +but once.” + +“Cannot you forge another?” + +The pale cheek of the trader showed an unusual color, but he continued +silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground, until the young man added, +with great positiveness, “Here I stay this night, come what will.” + +“Captain Wharton,” said the peddler, with great deliberation and marked +emphasis, “beware a tall Virginian, with huge whiskers; he is below +you, to my knowledge; the devil can’t deceive him; I never could but +once.” + +“Let him beware of me,” said Wharton, haughtily. “But, Mr. Birch, I +exonerate you from further responsibility.” + +“Will you give me that in writing?” asked the cautious Birch. + +“Oh! cheerfully,” cried the captain, with a laugh. “Caesar! pen, ink, +and paper, while I write a discharge for my trusty attendant, Harvey +Birch, peddler, etc., etc.” + +The implements for writing were produced, and the captain, with great +gayety, wrote the desired acknowledgment in language of his own; which +the peddler took, and carefully depositing it by the side of the image +of his Catholic Majesty, made a sweeping bow to the whole family, and +departed as he had approached. He was soon seen at a distance, stealing +into the door of his own humble dwelling. + +The father and sisters of the captain were too much rejoiced in +retaining the young man to express, or even entertain, the +apprehensions his situation might reasonably excite; but on retiring to +their evening repast, a cooler reflection induced the captain to think +of changing his mind. Unwilling to trust himself out of the protection +of his father’s domains, the young man dispatched Caesar to desire +another interview with Harvey. The black soon returned with the +unwelcome intelligence that it was now too late. Katy had told him that +Harvey must be miles on his road to the northward, “having left home at +early candlelight with his pack.” Nothing now remained to the captain +but patience, until the morning should afford further opportunity of +deciding on the best course for him to pursue. + +“This Harvey Birch, with his knowing looks and portentous warnings, +gives me more uneasiness than I am willing to own,” said Captain +Wharton, rousing himself from a fit of musing in which the danger of +his situation made no small part of his meditations. + +“How is it that he is able to travel to and fro in these difficult +times, without molestation?” inquired Miss Peyton. + +“Why the rebels suffer him to escape so easily, is more than I can +answer,” returned the other; “but Sir Henry would not permit a hair of +his head to be injured.” + +“Indeed!” cried Frances, with interest. “Is he then known to Sir Henry +Clinton?” + +“At least he ought to be.” + +“Do you think, my son,” asked Mr. Wharton, “there is no danger of his +betraying you?” + +“Why—no; I reflected on that before I trusted myself to his power,” +said the captain, thoughtfully. “He seems to be faithful in matters of +business. The danger to himself, should he return to the city, would +prevent such an act of villainy.” + +“I think,” said Frances, adopting the manner of her brother, “Harvey +Birch is not without good feelings; at least, he has the appearance of +them at times.” + +“Oh!” cried his sister, exulting, “he has loyalty, and that with me is +a cardinal virtue.” + +“I am afraid,” said her brother, laughing, “love of money is a stronger +passion than love of his king.” + +“Then,” said the father, “you cannot be safe while in his power—for no +love will withstand the temptations of money, when offered to avarice.” + +“Surely, sir,” cried the youth, recovering his gayety, “there must be +one love that can resist anything—is there not, Fanny?” + +“Here is your candle; you keep your father up beyond his usual hour.” + + [5] An island more than forty leagues in length lies opposite the + coasts of New York and Connecticut. The arm of the sea which separates + it from the main is technically called a sound, and in that part of + the country _par excellence, the_ Sound. This sheet of water varies in + its breadth from five to thirty miles. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Through Solway sands, through Taross moss, +Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross: +By wily turns, by desperate bounds, +Had baffled Percy’s best bloodhounds. +In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none, +But he would ride them, one by one; +Alike to him was time or tide, +December’s snow or July’s pride; +Alike to him was tide or time, +Moonless midnight or matin prime. + + +—WALTER SCOTT. + + +All the members of the Wharton family laid their heads on their pillows +that night, with a foreboding of some interruption to their ordinary +quiet. Uneasiness kept the sisters from enjoying their usual repose, +and they rose from their beds, on the following morning, unrefreshed, +and almost without having closed their eyes. + +On taking an eager and hasty survey of the valley from the windows of +their room, nothing, however, but its usual serenity was to be seen. It +was glittering with the opening brilliancy of one of those lovely, mild +days, which occur about the time of the falling of the leaf; and which, +by their frequency, class the American autumn with the most delightful +seasons of other countries. We have no spring; vegetation seems to leap +into existence, instead of creeping, as in the same latitudes of the +Old World; but how gracefully it retires! September, October, even +November and December, compose the season for enjoyment in the open +air; they have their storms, but they are distinct, and not of long +continuance, leaving a clear atmosphere and a cloudless sky. + +As nothing could be seen likely to interrupt the enjoyments and harmony +of such a day, the sisters descended to the parlor, with a returning +confidence in their brother’s security, and their own happiness. + +The family were early in assembling around the breakfast table; and +Miss Peyton, with a little of that minute precision which creeps into +the habits of single life, had pleasantly insisted that the absence of +her nephew should in no manner interfere with the regular hours she had +established; consequently, the party were already seated when the +captain made his appearance; though the untasted coffee sufficiently +proved that by none of his relatives was his absence disregarded. + +“I think I did much better,” he cried, taking a chair between his +sisters, and receiving their offered salutes, “to secure a good bed and +such a plentiful breakfast, instead of trusting to the hospitality of +that renowned corps, the Cowboys.” + +“If you could sleep,” said Sarah, “you were more fortunate than Frances +and myself; every murmur of the night air sounded to me like the +approach of the rebel army.” + +“Why,” said the captain, laughing, “I do acknowledge a little +inquietude myself—but how was it with you?” turning to his younger and +evidently favorite sister, and tapping her cheek. “Did you see banners +in the clouds, and mistake Miss Peyton’s Aeolian harp for rebellious +music?” + +“Nay, Henry,” rejoined the maid, looking at him affectionately, “much +as I love my own country, the approach of her troops just now would +give me great pain.” + +The brother made no reply; but returning the fondness expressed in her +eye by a look of fraternal tenderness, he gently pressed her hand in +silence; when Caesar, who had participated largely in the anxiety of +the family, and who had risen with the dawn, and kept a vigilant watch +on the surrounding objects, as he stood gazing from one of the windows, +exclaimed with a face that approached to something like the hues of a +white man,— + +“Run—Massa Harry—run—if he love old Caesar, run—here come a rebel +horse.” + +“Run!” repeated the British officer, gathering himself up in military +pride. “No, Mr. Caesar, running is not my trade.” While speaking, he +walked deliberately to the window, where the family were already +collected in the greatest consternation. + +At the distance of more than a mile, about fifty dragoons were to be +seen, winding down one of the lateral entrances of the valley. In +advance, with an officer, was a man attired in the dress of a +countryman, who pointed in the direction of the cottage. A small party +now left the main body, and moved rapidly towards the object of their +destination. + +On reaching the road which led through the bottom of the valley, they +turned their horses’ heads to the north. + +The Whartons continued chained in breathless silence to the spot, +watching their movements, when the party, having reached the dwelling +of Birch, made a rapid circle around his grounds, and in an instant his +house was surrounded by a dozen sentinels. + +Two or three of the dragoons now dismounted and disappeared; in a few +minutes, however, they returned to the yard, followed by Katy, from +whose violent gesticulations, it was evident that matters of no +trifling concern were on the carpet. A short communication with the +loquacious housekeeper followed the arrival of the main body of the +troop, and the advance party remounting, the whole moved towards the +Locusts with great speed. + +As yet none of the family had sufficient presence of mind to devise any +means of security for Captain Wharton; but the danger now became too +pressing to admit of longer delay, and various means of secreting him +were hastily proposed; but they were all haughtily rejected by the +young man, as unworthy of his character. It was too late to retreat to +the woods in the rear of the cottage, for he would unavoidably be seen, +and, followed by a troop of horse, as inevitably taken. + +At length his sisters, with trembling hands, replaced his original +disguise, the instruments of which had been carefully kept at hand by +Caesar, in expectation of some sudden emergency. + +This arrangement was hastily and imperfectly completed, as the dragoons +entered the lawn and orchard of the Locusts, riding with the rapidity +of the wind; and in their turn the Whartons were surrounded. + +Nothing remained now, but to meet the impending examination with as +much indifference as the family could assume. The leader of the horse +dismounted, and, followed by a couple of his men, he approached the +outer door of the building, which was slowly and reluctantly opened for +his admission by Caesar. The heavy tread of the trooper, as he followed +the black to the door of the parlor, rang in the ears of the females as +it approached nearer and nearer, and drove the blood from their faces +to their hearts, with a chill that nearly annihilated feeling. + +A man, whose colossal stature manifested the possession of vast +strength, entered the room, and removing his cap, he saluted the family +with a mildness his appearance did not indicate as belonging to his +nature. His dark hair hung around his brow in profusion, though stained +with powder which was worn at that day, and his face was nearly hid in +the whiskers by which it was disfigured. Still, the expression of his +eye, though piercing, was not bad, and his voice, though deep and +powerful, was far from unpleasant. Frances ventured to throw a timid +glance at his figure as he entered, and saw at once the man from whose +scrutiny Harvey Birch had warned them there was so much to be +apprehended. + +“You have no cause for alarm, ladies,” said the officer, pausing a +moment, and contemplating the pale faces around him. “My business will +be confined to a few questions, which, if freely answered, will +instantly remove us from your dwelling.” + +“And what may they be, sir?” stammered Mr. Wharton, rising from his +chair and waiting anxiously for the reply. + +“Has there been a strange gentleman staying with you during the storm?” +continued the dragoon, speaking with interest, and in some degree +sharing in the evident anxiety of the father. + +“This gentleman—here—favored us with his company during the rain, and +has not yet departed.” + +“This gentleman!” repeated the other, turning to Captain Wharton, and +contemplating his figure for a moment until the anxiety of his +countenance gave place to a lurking smile. He approached the youth with +an air of comic gravity, and with a low bow, continued, “I am sorry for +the severe cold you have in your head, sir.” + +“I!” exclaimed the captain, in surprise; “I have no cold in my head.” + +“I fancied it then, from seeing you had covered such handsome black +locks with that ugly old wig. It was my mistake; you will please to +pardon it.” + +Mr. Wharton groaned aloud; but the ladies, ignorant of the extent of +their visitor’s knowledge, remained in trembling yet rigid silence. The +captain himself moved his hand involuntarily to his head, and +discovered that the trepidation of his sisters had left some of his +natural hair exposed. The dragoon watched the movement with a continued +smile, when, seeming to recollect himself, turning to the father, he +proceeded,— + +“Then, sir, I am to understand there has not been a Mr. Harper here, +within the week?” + +“Mr. Harper,” echoed the other, feeling a load removed from his heart, +“yes, I had forgotten; but he is gone; and if there be anything wrong +in his character, we are in entire ignorance of it; to me he was a +total stranger.” + +“You have but little to apprehend from his character,” answered the +dragoon dryly. “But he is gone—how—when—and whither?” + +“He departed as he arrived,” said Mr. Wharton, gathering renewed +confidence from the manner of the trooper; “on horseback, last evening, +and he took the northern road.” + +The officer listened to him with intense interest, his countenance +gradually lighting into a smile of pleasure, and the instant Mr. +Wharton concluded his laconic reply he turned on his heel and left the +apartment. The Whartons, judging from his manner, thought he was about +to proceed in quest of the object of his inquiries. They observed the +dragoon, on gaining the lawn, in earnest and apparently pleased +conversation with his two subalterns. In a few moments orders were +given to some of the troops, and horsemen left the valley, at full +speed, by its various roads. + +The suspense of the party within, who were all highly interested +witnesses of this scene, was shortly terminated: for the heavy tread of +the dragoon soon announced his second approach. He bowed again politely +as he reentered the room, and walking up to Captain Wharton, said, with +comic gravity,— + +“Now, sir, my principal business being done, may I beg to examine the +quality of that wig?” + +The British officer imitated the manner of the other, as he +deliberately uncovered his head, and handing him the wig, observed, “I +hope, sir, it is to your liking.” + +“I cannot, without violating the truth, say it is,” returned the +dragoon. “I prefer your ebony hair, from which you seem to have combed +the powder with great industry. But that must have been a sad hurt you +have received under this enormous black patch.” + +“You appear so close an observer of things, I should like your opinion +of it, sir,” said Henry, removing the silk, and exhibiting the cheek +free from blemish. + +“Upon my word, you improve most rapidly in externals,” added the +trooper, preserving his muscles in inflexible gravity. “If I could but +persuade you to exchange this old surtout for that handsome blue coat +by your side, I think I never could witness a more agreeable +metamorphosis, since I was changed myself from a lieutenant to a +captain.” + +Young Wharton very composedly did as was required and stood an +extremely handsome, well-dressed young man. The dragoon looked at him +for a minute with the drollery that characterized his manner, and then +continued,— + +“This is a newcomer in the scene; it is usual, you know, for strangers +to be introduced; I am Captain Lawton, of the Virginia horse.” + +“And I, sir, am Captain Wharton, of his Majesty’s 60th regiment of +foot,” returned Henry, bowing stiffly, and recovering his natural +manner. + +The countenance of Lawton changed instantly, and his assumed quaintness +vanished. He viewed the figure of Captain Wharton, as he stood proudly +swelling with a pride that disdained further concealment, and exclaimed +with great earnestness,— + +“Captain Wharton, from my soul I pity you!” + +“Oh! then,” cried the father in agony, “if you pity him, dear sir, why +molest him? He is not a spy; nothing but a desire to see his friends +prompted him to venture so far from the regular army in disguise. Leave +him with us; there is no reward, no sum, which I will not cheerfully +pay.” + +“Sir, your anxiety for your friend excuses your language,” said Lawton, +haughtily; “but you forget I am a Virginian, and a gentleman.” Turning +to the young man, he continued, “Were you ignorant, Captain Wharton, +that our pickets have been below you for several days?” + +“I did not know it until I reached them, and it was then too late to +retreat,” said Wharton sullenly. “I came out, as my father has +mentioned, to see my friends, understanding your parties to be at +Peekskill, and near the Highlands, or surely I would not have +ventured.” + +“All this may be very true; but the affair of André has made us on the +alert. When treason reaches the grade of general officers, Captain +Wharton, it behooves the friends of liberty to be vigilant.” + +Henry bowed to this remark in distant silence, but Sarah ventured to +urge something in behalf of her brother. The dragoon heard her +politely, and apparently with commiseration; but willing to avoid +useless and embarrassing petitions, he answered mildly,— + +“I am not the commander of the party, madam; Major Dunwoodie will +decide what must be done with your brother; at all events he will +receive nothing but kind and gentle treatment.” + +“Dunwoodie!” exclaimed Frances, with a face in which the roses +contended for the mastery with the paleness of apprehension. “Thank +God! then Henry is safe!” + +Lawton regarded her with a mingled expression of pity and admiration; +then shaking his head doubtingly, he continued,— + +“I hope so; and with your permission, we will leave the matter for his +decision.” + +The color of Frances changed from the paleness of fear to the glow of +hope. Her dread on behalf of her brother was certainly greatly +diminished; yet her form shook, her breathing became short and +irregular, and her whole frame gave tokens of extraordinary agitation. +Her eyes rose from the floor to the dragoon, and were again fixed +immovably on the carpet—she evidently wished to utter something but was +unequal to the effort. Miss Peyton was a close observer of these +movements of her niece, and advancing with an air of feminine dignity, +inquired,— + +“Then, sir, we may expect the pleasure of Major Dunwoodie’s company +shortly?” + +“Immediately, madam,” answered the dragoon, withdrawing his admiring +gaze from the person of Frances. “Expresses are already on the road to +announce to him our situation, and the intelligence will speedily bring +him to this valley; unless, indeed, some private reasons may exist to +make a visit particularly unpleasant.” + +“We shall always be happy to see Major Dunwoodie.” + +“Oh! doubtless; he is a general favorite, May I presume on it so far as +to ask leave to dismount and refresh my men, who compose a part of his +squadron?” + +There was a manner about the trooper that would have made the omission +of such a request easily forgiven by Mr. Wharton, but he was fairly +entrapped by his own eagerness to conciliate, and it was useless to +withhold a consent which he thought would probably be extorted; he +therefore made the most of necessity, and gave such orders as would +facilitate the wishes of Captain Lawton. + +The officers were invited to take their morning’s repast at the family +breakfast table, and having made their arrangements without, the +invitation was frankly accepted. None of the watchfulness, which was so +necessary to their situation, was neglected by the wary partisan. +Patrols were seen on the distant hills, taking their protecting circuit +around their comrades, who were enjoying, in the midst of danger, a +security that can only spring from the watchfulness of discipline and +the indifference of habit. + +The addition to the party at Mr. Wharton’s table was only three, and +they were all of them men who, under the rough exterior induced by +actual and arduous service, concealed the manners of gentlemen. +Consequently, the interruption to the domestic privacy of the family +was marked by the observance of strict decorum. The ladies left the +table to their guests, who proceeded, without much superfluous +diffidence, to do proper honors to the hospitality of Mr. Wharton. + +At length Captain Lawton suspended for a moment his violent attacks on +the buckwheat cakes, to inquire of the master of the house, if there +was not a peddler of the name of Birch who lived in the valley at +times. + +“At times only, I believe, sir,” replied Mr. Wharton, cautiously. “He +is seldom here; I may say I never see him.” + +“That is strange, too,” said the trooper, looking at the disconcerted +host intently, “considering he is your next neighbor; he must be quite +domestic, sir; and to the ladies it must be somewhat inconvenient. I +doubt not that that muslin in the window seat cost twice as much as he +would have asked them for it.” + +Mr. Wharton turned in consternation, and saw some of the recent +purchases scattered about the room. + +The two subalterns struggled to conceal their smiles; but the captain +resumed his breakfast with an eagerness that created a doubt, whether +he ever expected to enjoy another. The necessity of a supply from the +dominion of Dinah soon, however, afforded another respite, of which +Lawton availed himself. + +“I had a wish to break this Mr. Birch of his unsocial habits, and gave +him a call this morning,” he said. “Had I found him within, I should +have placed him where he would enjoy life in the midst of society, for +a short time at least.” + +“And where might that be, sir?” asked Mr. Wharton, conceiving it +necessary to say something. + +“The guardroom,” said the trooper, dryly. + +“What is the offense of poor Birch?” asked Miss Peyton, handing the +dragoon a fourth dish of coffee. + +“Poor!” cried the captain. “If he is poor, King George is a bad +paymaster.” + +“Yes, indeed,” said one of the subalterns, “his Majesty owes him a +dukedom.” + +“And congress a halter,” continued the commanding officer commencing +anew on a fresh supply of the cakes. + +“I am sorry,” said Mr. Wharton, “that any neighbor of mine should incur +the displeasure of our rulers.” + +“If I catch him,” cried the dragoon, while buttering another cake, “he +will dangle from the limbs of one of his namesakes.” + +“He would make no bad ornament, suspended from one of those locusts +before his own door,” added the lieutenant. + +“Never mind,” continued the captain; “I will have him yet before I’m a +major.” + +As the language of the officers appeared to be sincere, and such as +disappointed men in their rough occupations are but too apt to use, the +Whartons thought it prudent to discontinue the subject. It was no new +intelligence to any of the family, that Harvey Birch was distrusted and +greatly harassed by the American army. His escapes from their hands, no +less than his imprisonments, had been the conversation of the country +in too many instances, and under circumstances of too great mystery, to +be easily forgotten. In fact, no small part of the bitterness expressed +by Captain Lawton against the peddler, arose from the unaccountable +disappearance of the latter, when intrusted to the custody of two of +his most faithful dragoons. + +A twelvemonth had not yet elapsed, since Birch had been seen lingering +near the headquarters of the commander in chief, and at a time when +important movements were expected hourly to occur. So soon as the +information of this fact was communicated to the officer whose duty it +was to guard the avenues of the American camp, he dispatched Captain +Lawton in pursuit of the peddler. + +Acquainted with all the passes of the hills, and indefatigable in the +discharge of his duty, the trooper had, with much trouble and toil, +succeeded in effecting his object. The party had halted at a farmhouse +for the purposes of refreshment, and the prisoner was placed in a room +by himself, but under the keeping of the two men before mentioned; all +that was known subsequently is, that a woman was seen busily engaged in +the employments of the household near the sentinels, and was +particularly attentive to the wants of the captain, until he was deeply +engaged in the employments of the supper table. + +Afterwards, neither woman nor peddler was to be found. The pack, +indeed, was discovered open, and nearly empty, and a small door, +communicating with a room adjoining to the one in which the peddler had +been secured, was ajar. + +Captain Lawton never could forgive the deception; his antipathies to +his enemies were not very moderate, but this was adding an insult to +his penetration that rankled deeply. He sat in portentous silence, +brooding over the exploit of his prisoner, yet mechanically pursuing +the business before him, until, after sufficient time had passed to +make a very comfortable meal, a trumpet suddenly broke on the ears of +the party, sending its martial tones up the valley, in startling +melody. The trooper rose instantly from the table, exclaiming,— + +“Quick, gentlemen, to your horses; there comes Dunwoodie,” and, +followed by his officers, he precipitately left the room. + +With the exception of the sentinels left to guard Captain Wharton, the +dragoons mounted, and marched out to meet their comrades. + +None of the watchfulness necessary in a war, in which similarity of +language, appearance, and customs rendered prudence doubly necessary, +was omitted by the cautious leader. On getting sufficiently near, +however, to a body of horse of more than double his own number, to +distinguish countenances, Lawton plunged his rowels into his charger, +and in a moment he was by the side of his commander. + +The ground in front of the cottage was again occupied by the horse; and +observing the same precautions as before, the newly arrived troops +hastened to participate in the cheer prepared for their comrades. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +And let conquerors boast +Their fields of fame—he who in virtue arms +A young warm spirit against beauty’s charms, +Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, +Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. + + +—MOORE. + + +The ladies of the Wharton family had collected about a window, deeply +interested in the scene we have related. + +Sarah viewed the approach of her countrymen with a smile of +contemptuous indifference; for she even undervalued the personal +appearance of men whom she thought arrayed in the unholy cause of +rebellion. Miss Peyton looked on the gallant show with an exulting +pride, which arose in the reflection that the warriors before her were +the chosen troops of her native colony; while Frances gazed with a +singleness of interest that absorbed all other considerations. + +The two parties had not yet joined, before her quick eye distinguished +one horseman in particular from those around him. To her it appeared +that even the steed of this youthful soldier seemed to be conscious +that he sustained the weight of no common man: his hoofs but lightly +touched the earth, and his airy tread was the curbed motion of a +blooded charger. + +The dragoon sat in the saddle, with a firmness and ease that showed him +master of himself and horse,—his figure uniting the just proportions of +strength and activity, being tall, round, and muscular. To this officer +Lawton made his report, and, side by side, they rode into the field +opposite to the cottage. + +The heart of Frances beat with a pulsation nearly stifling, as he +paused for a moment, and took a survey of the building, with an eye +whose dark and sparkling glance could be seen, notwithstanding the +distance. Her color changed, and for an instant, as she saw the youth +throw himself from the saddle, she was compelled to seek relief for her +trembling limbs in a chair. + +The officer gave a few hasty orders to his second in command, walked +rapidly into the lawn, and approached the cottage. Frances rose from +her seat, and vanished from the apartment. The dragoon ascended the +steps of the piazza, and had barely time to touch the outer door, when +it opened to his admission. + +The youth of Frances, when she left the city, had prevented her +sacrificing, in conformity to the customs of that day, all her native +beauties on the altar of fashion. Her hair, which was of a golden +richness of color, was left, untortured, to fall in the natural +ringlets of infancy, and it shaded a face which was glowing with the +united charms of health, youth, and artlessness; her eyes spoke +volumes, but her tongue was silent; her hands were interlocked before +her, and, aided by her taper form, bending forward in an attitude of +expectation, gave a loveliness and an interest to her appearance, that +for a moment chained her lover in silence to the spot. + +Frances silently led the way into a vacant parlor, opposite to the one +in which the family were assembled, and turning to the soldier frankly, +placing both her hands in his own, exclaimed,— + +“Ah, Dunwoodie! how happy, on many accounts, I am to see you! I have +brought you in here, to prepare you to meet an unexpected friend in the +opposite room.” + +“To whatever cause it may be owing,” cried the youth, pressing her +hands to his lips, “I, too, am happy in being able to see you alone. +Frances, the probation you have decreed is cruel; war and distance may +separate us forever.” + +“We must submit to the necessity which governs us. But it is not love +speeches I would hear now; I have other and more important matter for +your attention.” + +“What can be of more importance than to make you mine by a tie that +will be indissoluble! Frances, you are cold to me—me—from whose mind, +days of service and nights of alarm have never been able to banish your +image for a single moment.” + +“Dear Dunwoodie,” said Frances, softening nearly to tears, and again +extending her hand to him, as the richness of her color gradually +returned, “you know my sentiments—this war once ended, and you may take +that hand forever—but I can never consent to tie myself to you by any +closer union than already exists, so long as you are arrayed in arms +against my only brother. Even now, that brother is awaiting your +decision to restore him to liberty, or to conduct him to a probable +death.” + +“Your brother!” cried Dunwoodie, starting and turning pale; “your +brother! explain yourself—what dreadful meaning is concealed in your +words?” + +“Has not Captain Lawton told you of the arrest of Henry by himself this +very morning?” continued Frances, in a voice barely audible, and fixing +on her lover a look of the deepest concern. + +“He told me of arresting a captain of the 60th in disguise, but without +mentioning where or whom,” replied the major in a similar tone; and +dropping his head between his hands, he endeavored to conceal his +feelings from his companion. + +“Dunwoodie! Dunwoodie!” exclaimed Frances, losing all her former +confidence in the most fearful apprehensions, “what means this +agitation?” As the major slowly raised his face, in which was pictured +the most expressive concern, she continued, “Surely, surely, you will +not betray your friend—my brother—your brother—to an ignominious +death.” + +“Frances!” exclaimed the young man in agony, “what can I do?” + +“Do!” she repeated, gazing at him wildly. “Would Major Dunwoodie yield +his friend to his enemies—the brother of his betrothed wife?” + +“Oh, speak not so unkindly to me, dearest Miss Wharton—my own Frances. +I would this moment die for you—for Henry—but I cannot forget my +duty—cannot forfeit my honor; you yourself would be the first to +despise me if I did.” + +“Peyton Dunwoodie!” said Frances, solemnly, and with a face of ashy +paleness, “you have told me—you have sworn, that you love me——” + +“I do,” interrupted the soldier, with fervor; but motioning for silence +she continued, in a voice that trembled with her fears,— + +“Do you think I can throw myself into the arms of a man whose hands are +stained with the blood of my only brother!” + +“Frances, you wring my very heart!” Then pausing, to struggle with his +feelings, he endeavored to force a smile, as he added, “But, after all, +we may be torturing ourselves with unnecessary fears, and Henry, when I +know the circumstances, may be nothing more than a prisoner of war; in +which case, I can liberate him on parole.” + +There is no more delusive passion than hope; and it seems to be the +happy privilege of youth to cull all the pleasures that can be gathered +from its indulgence. It is when we are most worthy of confidence +ourselves, that we are least apt to distrust others; and what we think +ought to be, we are prone to think will be. + +The half-formed expectations of the young soldier were communicated to +the desponding sister, more by the eye than the voice, and the blood +rushed again to her cheek, as she cried,— + +“Oh, there can be no just grounds to doubt it. I know—I knew—Dunwoodie, +you would never desert us in the hour of our greatest need!” The +violence of her feelings prevailed, and the agitated girl found relief +in a flood of tears. + +The office of consoling those we love is one of the dearest +prerogatives of affection; and Major Dunwoodie, although but little +encouraged by his own momentary suggestion of relief, could not +undeceive the lovely girl, who leaned on his shoulder, as he wiped the +traces of her feeling from her face, with a trembling, but reviving +confidence in the safety of her brother, and the protection of her +lover. + +Frances, having sufficiently recovered her recollection to command +herself, now eagerly led the way to the opposite room, to communicate +to her family the pleasing intelligence which she already conceived so +certain, + +Dunwoodie followed her reluctantly, and with forebodings of the result; +but a few moments brought him into the presence of his relatives, and +he summoned all his resolution to meet the trial with firmness. + +The salutations of the young men were cordial and frank, and, on the +part of Henry Wharton, as collected as if nothing had occurred to +disturb his self-possession. + +The abhorrence of being, in any manner, auxiliary to the arrest of his +friend; the danger to the life of Captain Wharton; and the +heart-breaking declarations of Frances, had, however, created an +uneasiness in the bosom of Major Dunwoodie, which all his efforts could +not conceal. His reception by the rest of the family was kind and +sincere, both from old regard, and a remembrance of former obligations, +heightened by the anticipations they could not fail to read in the +expressive eyes of the blushing girl by his side. After exchanging +greetings with every member of the family, Major Dunwoodie beckoned to +the sentinel, whom the wary prudence of Captain Lawton had left in +charge of the prisoner, to leave the room. Turning to Captain Wharton, +he inquired mildly,— + +“Tell me, Henry, the circumstances of this disguise, in which Captain +Lawton reports you to have been found, and remember—remember—Captain +Wharton—your answers are entirely voluntary.” + +“The disguise was used by me, Major Dunwoodie,” replied the English +officer, gravely, “to enable me to visit my friends, without incurring +the danger of becoming a prisoner of war.” + +“But you did not wear it, until you saw the troop of Lawton +approaching?” + +“Oh! no,” interrupted Frances, eagerly, forgetting all the +circumstances in her anxiety for her brother. “Sarah and myself placed +them on him when the dragoons appeared; and it was our awkwardness that +has led to the discovery.” + +The countenance of Dunwoodie brightened, as turning his eyes in +fondness on the speaker, he listened to her explanation. + +“Probably some articles of your own,” he continued, “which were at +hand, and were used on the spur of the moment.” + +“No,” said Wharton, with dignity, “the clothes were worn by me from the +city; they were procured for the purpose to which they were applied, +and I intended to use them in my return this very day.” + +The appalled Frances shrank back from between her brother and lover, +where her ardent feelings had carried her, as the whole truth glanced +over her mind, and she sank into a seat, gazing wildly on the young +men. + +“But the pickets—the party at the Plains?” added Dunwoodie, turning +pale. + +“I passed them, too, in disguise. I made use of this pass, for which I +paid; and, as it bears the name of Washington, I presume it is forged.” + +Dunwoodie caught the paper from his hand, eagerly, and stood gazing on +the signature for some time in silence, during which the soldier +gradually prevailed over the man; when he turned to the prisoner, with +a searching look, as he asked,— + +“Captain Wharton, whence did you procure this paper?” + +“This is a question, I conceive, Major Dunwoodie has no right to ask.” + +“Your pardon, sir; my feelings may have led me into an impropriety.” + +Mr. Wharton, who had been a deeply interested auditor, now so far +conquered his feelings as to say, “Surely, Major Dunwoodie, the paper +cannot be material; such artifices are used daily in war.” + +“This name is no counterfeit,” said the dragoon, studying the +characters, and speaking in a low voice; “is treason yet among us +undiscovered? The confidence of Washington has been abused, for the +fictitious name is in a different hand from the pass. Captain Wharton, +my duty will not suffer me to grant you a parole; you must accompany me +to the Highlands.” + +“I did not expect otherwise, Major Dunwoodie.” + +Dunwoodie turned slowly towards the sisters, when the figure of Frances +once more arrested his gaze. She had risen from her seat, and stood +again with her hands clasped before him in an attitude of petition; +feeling himself unable to contend longer with his feelings, he made a +hurried excuse for a temporary absence, and left the room. Frances +followed him, and, obedient to the direction of her eye, the soldier +reentered the apartment in which had been their first interview. + +“Major Dunwoodie,” said Frances, in a voice barely audible, as she +beckoned to him to be seated; her cheek, which had been of a chilling +whiteness, was flushed with a suffusion that crimsoned her whole +countenance. She struggled with herself for a moment, and continued, “I +have already acknowledged to you my esteem; even now, when you most +painfully distress me, I wish not to conceal it. Believe me, Henry is +innocent of everything but imprudence. Our country can sustain no +wrong.” Again she paused, and almost gasped for breath; her color +changed rapidly from red to white, until the blood rushed into her +face, covering her features with the brightest vermilion; and she added +hastily, in an undertone, “I have promised, Dunwoodie, when peace shall +be restored to our country, to become your wife. Give to my brother his +liberty on parole, and I will this day go with you to the altar, follow +you to the camp, and, in becoming a soldier’s bride, learn to endure a +soldier’s privations.” + +Dunwoodie seized the hand which the blushing girl, in her ardor, had +extended towards him, and pressed it for a moment to his bosom; then +rising from his seat, he paced the room in excessive agitation. + +“Frances, say no more, I conjure you, unless you wish to break my +heart.” + +“You then reject my offered hand?” she said, rising with dignity, +though her pale cheek and quivering lip plainly showed the conflicting +passions within. + +“Reject it! Have I not sought it with entreaties—with tears? Has it not +been the goal of all my earthly wishes? But to take it under such +conditions would be to dishonor both. We will hope for better things. +Henry must be acquitted; perhaps not tried. No intercession of mine +shall be wanting, you must well know; and believe me, Frances, I am not +without favor with Washington.” + +“That very paper, that abuse of his confidence, to which you alluded, +will steel him to my brother’s case. If threats or entreaties could +move his stern sense of justice, would André have suffered?” As Frances +uttered these words she fled from the room in despair. + +Dunwoodie remained for a minute nearly stupefied; and then he followed +with a view to vindicate himself, and to relieve her apprehensions. On +entering the hall that divided the two parlors, he was met by a small +ragged boy, who looked one moment at his dress, and placing a piece of +paper in his hands, immediately vanished through the outer door of the +building. The bewildered state of his mind, and the suddenness of the +occurrence, gave the major barely time to observe the messenger to be a +country lad, meanly attired, and that he held in his hand one of those +toys which are to be bought in cities, and which he now apparently +contemplated with the conscious pleasure of having fairly purchased, by +the performance of the service required. The soldier turned his eyes to +the subject of the note. It was written on a piece of torn and soiled +paper, and in a hand barely legible, but after some little labor, he +was able to make out as follows— + +“_The rig’lars are at hand, horse and foot._”[6] + + +Dunwoodie started; and, forgetting everything but the duties of a +soldier, he precipitately left the house. While walking rapidly towards +the troops, he noticed on a distant hill a vidette riding with speed. +Several pistols were fired in quick succession; and the next instant +the trumpets of the corps rang in his ears with the enlivening strain +of “To arms!” By the time he had reached the ground occupied by his +squadron, the major saw that every man was in active motion. Lawton was +already in the saddle, eying the opposite extremity of the valley with +the eagerness of expectation, and crying to the musicians, in tones but +little lower than their own,— + +“Sound away, my lads, and let these Englishmen know that the Virginia +horse are between them and the end of their journey.” + +The videttes and patrols now came pouring in, each making in succession +his hasty report to the commanding officer, who gave his orders coolly, +and with a promptitude that made obedience certain. Once only, as he +wheeled his horse to ride over the ground in front, did Dunwoodie trust +himself with a look at the cottage, and his heart beat with unusual +rapidity as he saw a female figure standing, with clasped hands, at a +window of the room in which he had met Frances. The distance was too +great to distinguish her features, but the soldier could not doubt that +it was his mistress. The paleness of his cheek and the languor of his +eye endured but for a moment longer. As he rode towards the intended +battle ground, a flush of ardor began to show itself on his sunburnt +features; and his dragoons, who studied the face of their leader, as +the best index to their own fate, saw again the wonted flashing of the +eyes, and the cheerful animation, which they had so often witnessed on +the eve of battle. By the additions of the videttes and parties that +had been out, and which now had all joined, the whole number of the +horse was increased to nearly two hundred. There was also a small body +of men, whose ordinary duties were those of guides, but who, in cases +of emergency, were embodied and did duty as foot soldiers; these were +dismounted, and proceeded, by the order of Dunwoodie, to level the few +fences which might interfere with the intended movements of the +cavalry. The neglect of husbandry, which had been occasioned by the +war, left this task comparatively easy. Those long lines of heavy and +durable walls, which now sweep through every part of the country, forty +years ago were unknown. The slight and tottering fences of stone were +then used more to clear the land for the purposes of cultivation than +as permanent barriers, and required the constant attention of the +husbandman, to preserve them against the fury of the tempests and the +frosts of winter. Some few of them had been built with more care +immediately around the dwelling of Mr. Wharton; but those which had +intersected the vale below were now generally a pile of ruins, over +which the horses of the Virginians would bound with the fleetness of +the wind. Occasionally a short line yet preserved its erect appearance; +but as none of those crossed the ground on which Dunwoodie intended to +act, there remained only the slighter fences of rails to be thrown +down. Their duty was hastily but effectually performed; and the guides +withdrew to the post assigned to them for the approaching fight. + +Major Dunwoodie had received from his scouts all the intelligence +concerning his foe, which was necessary to enable him to make his +arrangements. The bottom of the valley was an even plain, that fell +with a slight inclination from the foot of the hills on either side, to +the level of a natural meadow that wound through the country on the +banks of a small stream, by whose waters it was often inundated and +fertilized. This brook was easily forded in any part of its course; and +the only impediment it offered to the movements of the horse, was in a +place where it changed its bed from the western to the eastern side of +the valley, and where its banks were more steep and difficult of access +than common. Here the highway crossed it by a rough wooden bridge, as +it did again at the distance of half a mile above the Locusts. + +The hills on the eastern side of the valley were abrupt, and frequently +obtruded themselves in rocky prominences into its bosom, lessening the +width to half the usual dimensions. One of these projections was but a +short distance in the rear of the squadron of dragoons, and Dunwoodie +directed Captain Lawton to withdraw, with two troops, behind its cover. +The officer obeyed with a kind of surly reluctance, that was, however, +somewhat lessened by the anticipations of the effect his sudden +appearance would make on the enemy. Dunwoodie knew his man, and had +selected the captain for this service, both because he feared his +precipitation in the field, and knew, when needed, his support would +never fail to appear. It was only in front of the enemy that Captain +Lawton was hasty; at all other times his discernment and +self-possession were consummately preserved; but he sometimes forgot +them in his eagerness to engage. On the left of the ground on which +Dunwoodie intended to meet his foe, was a close wood, which skirted +that side of the valley for the distance of a mile. Into this, then, +the guides retired, and took their station near its edge, in such a +manner as would enable them to maintain a scattering, but effectual +fire, on the advancing column of the enemy. + +It cannot be supposed that all these preparations were made unheeded by +the inmates of the cottage; on the contrary, every feeling which can +agitate the human breast, in witnessing such a scene, was actively +alive. Mr. Wharton alone saw no hopes to himself in the termination of +the conflict. If the British should prevail, his son would be +liberated; but what would then be his own fate! He had hitherto +preserved his neutral character in the midst of trying circumstances. +The fact of his having a son in the royal, or, as it was called, the +regular army, had very nearly brought his estates to the hammer. +Nothing had obviated this result, but the powerful interest of the +relation who held a high political rank in the state, and his own +vigilant prudence. In his heart, he was a devoted loyalist; and when +the blushing Frances had communicated to him the wishes of her lover, +on their return from the American camp the preceding spring, the +consent he had given, to her future union with a rebel, was as much +extracted by the increasing necessity which existed for his obtaining +republican support, as by any considerations for the happiness of his +child. Should his son now be rescued, he would, in the public mind, be +united with him as a plotter against the freedom of the States; and +should he remain a captive and undergo the impending trial, the +consequences might be still more dreadful. Much as he loved his wealth, +Mr. Wharton loved his children better; and he sat gazing on the +movements without, with a listless vacancy in his countenance, that +fully denoted his imbecility of character. Far different were the +feelings of the son. Captain Wharton had been left in the keeping of +two dragoons, one of whom marched to and fro on the piazza with a +measured tread, and the other had been directed to continue in the same +apartment with his prisoner. The young man had witnessed all the +movements of Dunwoodie with admiration mingled with fearful +anticipations of the consequences to friends. He particularly disliked +the ambush of the detachment under Lawton, who could be distinctly seen +from the windows of the cottage, cooling his impatience, by pacing on +foot the ground in front of his men. Henry Wharton threw several hasty +and inquiring glances around, to see if no means of liberation would +offer, but invariably found the eyes of his sentinel fixed on him with +the watchfulness of an Argus. He longed, with the ardor of youth, to +join in the glorious fray, but was compelled to remain a dissatisfied +spectator of a scene in which he would so cheerfully have been an +actor. Miss Peyton and Sarah continued gazing on the preparations with +varied emotions, in which concern for the fate of the captain formed +the most prominent feeling, until the moment of shedding of blood +seemed approaching, when, with the timidity of their sex, they sought +the retirement of an inner room. Not so Frances; she returned to the +apartment where she had left Dunwoodie, and, from one of its windows, +had been a deeply interested spectator of all his movements. The +wheelings of the troops, the deadly preparations, had all been +unnoticed; she saw her lover only, and with mingled emotions of +admiration and dread that nearly chilled her. At one moment the blood +rushed to her heart, as she saw the young warrior riding through his +ranks, giving life and courage to all whom he addressed; and the next, +it curdled with the thought that the very gallantry she so much valued +might prove the means of placing the grave between her and the object +of her regard. Frances gazed until she could look no longer. + +In a field on the left of the cottage, and at a short distance in the +rear of the troops, was a small group, whose occupation seemed to +differ from that of all around them. They were in number only three, +being two men and a mulatto boy. The principal personage of this party +was a man, whose leanness made his really tall stature appear +excessive. He wore spectacles—was unarmed, had dismounted, and seemed +to be dividing his attention between a cigar, a book, and the incidents +of the field before him. To this party Frances determined to send a +note, directed to Dunwoodie. She wrote hastily, with a pencil, “Come to +me, Peyton, if it be but for a moment”; and Caesar emerged from the +cellar kitchen, taking the precaution to go by the rear of the +building, to avoid the sentinel on the piazza, who had very cavalierly +ordered all the family to remain housed. The black delivered the note +to the gentleman, with a request that it might be forwarded to Major +Dunwoodie. It was the surgeon of the horse to whom Caesar addressed +himself; and the teeth of the African chattered, as he saw displayed +upon the ground the several instruments which were in preparation for +the anticipated operations. The doctor himself seemed to view the +arrangement with great satisfaction, as he deliberately raised his eyes +from his book to order the boy to convey the note to his commanding +officer, and then dropping them quietly on the page he continued his +occupation. Caesar was slowly retiring, as the third personage, who by +his dress might be an inferior assistant of the surgical department, +coolly inquired “if he would have a leg taken off?” This question +seemed to remind the black of the existence of those limbs, for he made +such use of them as to reach the piazza at the same instant that Major +Dunwoodie rode up, at half speed. The brawny sentinel squared himself, +and poised his sword with military precision as he stood on his post, +while his officer passed; but no sooner had the door closed, than, +turning to the negro, he said, sharply,— + +“Harkee, blackee, if you quit the house again without my knowledge, I +shall turn barber, and shave off one of those ebony ears with this +razor.” + +Thus assailed in another member, Caesar hastily retreated into his +kitchen, muttering something, in which the words “Skinner,” and “rebel +rascal,” formed a principal part of speech. + +“Major Dunwoodie,” said Frances to her lover as he entered, “I may have +done you injustice; if I have appeared harsh—” + +The emotions of the agitated girl prevailed, and she burst into tears. + +“Frances,” cried the soldier with warmth, “you are never harsh, never +unjust, but when you doubt my love.” + +“Ah! Dunwoodie,” added the sobbing girl, “you are about to risk your +life in battle; remember that there is one heart whose happiness is +built on your safety; brave I know you are: be prudent—” + +“For your sake?” inquired the delighted youth. + +“For my sake,” replied Frances, in a voice barely audible, and dropping +on his bosom. + +Dunwoodie folded her to his heart, and was about to speak, as a trumpet +sounded in the southern end of the vale. Imprinting one long kiss of +affection on her unresisting lips, the soldier tore himself from his +mistress, and hastened to the scene of strife. + +Frances threw herself on a sofa, buried her head under its cushion, and +with her shawl drawn over her face, to exclude as much of sound as +possible, continued there until the shouts of the combatants, the +rattling of the firearms, and the thundering tread of the horses had +ceased. + + [6] There died a few years since, in Bedford, Westchester, a yeoman + named Elisha H—— This person was employed by Washington as one of his + most confidential spies. By the conditions of their bargain, H—— was + never to be required to deal with third parties, since his risks were + too imminent. He was allowed to enter also into the service of Sir + Henry Clinton, and so much confidence had Washington in his love of + country and discretion, that he was often intrusted with the minor + military movements, in order that he might enhance his value with the + English general, by communicating them. In this manner H—— had + continued to serve for a long period, when chance brought him into the + city (then held by the British) at a moment when an expedition was + about to quit it, to go against a small post established at Bedford, + his native village, where the Americans had a depot of provisions. H—— + easily ascertained the force and destination of the detachment ordered + on this service, but he was at a loss in what manner to communicate + his information to the officer in command at Bedford, without + betraying his own true character to a third person. There was not time + to reach Washington, and under the circumstances, he finally resolved + to hazard a short note to the American commandant, stating the danger, + and naming the time when the attack might be expected. To this note he + even ventured to affix his own initials, E H, though he had disguised + the hand, under a belief that, as he knew himself to be suspected by + his countrymen, it might serve to give more weight to his warning. His + family being at Bedford, the note was transmitted with facility and + arrived in good season, H—— himself remaining in New York. The + American commandant did what every sensible officer, in a similar + case, would have done. He sent a courier with the note to Washington, + demanding orders, while he prepared his little party to make the best + defense in his power. The headquarters of the American army were, at + that time, in the Highlands. Fortunately, the express met Washington, + on a tour of observation, near their entrance. The note was given to + him, and he read it in the saddle, adding, in pencil, “Believe all + that E H tells you. George Washington” He returned it to the courier, + with an injunction to ride for life or death. The courier reached + Bedford after the British had made their attack. The commandant read + the reply, and put it in his pocket. The Americans were defeated, and + their leader killed. The note of H——, with the line written on it by + Washington, was found on his person. The following day H—— was + summoned to the presence of Sir Henry Clinton. After the latter had + put several general questions, he suddenly gave the note to the spy, + and asked if he knew the handwriting, and demanded who the E H was “It + is Elijah Hadden, the spy you hanged yesterday at Powles Hook.” The + readiness of this answer, connected with the fact that a spy having + the same initials had been executed the day before, and the coolness + of H——, saved him. Sir Henry Clinton allowed him to quit his presence, + and he never saw him afterwards. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The game’s afoot; +Follow your spirit. + + +—SHAKESPEARE. + + +The rough and unimproved face of the country, the frequency of covers, +together with the great distance from their own country, and the +facilities afforded them for rapid movements to the different points of +the war, by the undisputed command of the ocean, had united to deter +the English from employing a heavy force in cavalry, in their early +efforts to subdue the revolted colonies. + +Only one regiment of regular horse was sent from the mother country, +during the struggle. But legions and independent corps were formed in +different places, as it best accorded with the views of the royal +commanders, or suited the exigency of the times. These were not +unfrequently composed of men raised in the colonies, and at other times +drafts were had from the regiments of the line, and the soldiers were +made to lay aside the musket and bayonet, and taught to wield the saber +and carbine. One particular body of the subsidiary troops was included +in this arrange ment, and the Hessian yagers were transformed into a +corps of heavy and inactive horse. + +Opposed to them were the hardiest spirits of America. Most of the +cavalry regiments of the continental army were led and officered by +gentlemen from the South. The high and haughty courage of the +commanders had communicated itself to the privates, who were men +selected with care and great attention to the service they were +intended to perform. + +While the British were confined to their empty conquests in the +possession of a few of the larger towns, or marched through counties +that were swept of everything like military supplies, the light troops +of their enemies had the range of the whole interior. + +The sufferings of the line of the American army were great beyond +example; but possessing the power, and feeling themselves engaged in a +cause which justified severity, the cavalry officers were vigilant in +providing for their wants, and the horse were well mounted, well fed, +and consequently eminently effective. Perhaps the world could not +furnish more brave, enterprising, and resistless corps of light +cavalry, than a few that were in the continental service at the time of +which we write. + +Dunwoodie’s men had often tried their prowess against the enemy, and +they now sat panting to be led once more against foes whom they seldom +charged in vain. Their wishes were soon to be gratified; for their +commander had scarcely time to regain his seat in the saddle, before a +body of the enemy came sweeping round the base of the hill, which +intersected the view to the south. A few minutes enabled the major to +distinguish their character. In one troop he saw the green coats of the +Cowboys, and in the other the leathern helmets and wooden saddles of +the yagers. Their numbers were about equal to the body under his +immediate orders. + +On reaching the open space near the cottage of Harvey Birch, the enemy +halted and drew up his men in line, evidently making preparations for a +charge. At this moment a column of foot appeared in the vale, and +pressed forward to the bank of the brook we have already mentioned. + +Major Dunwoodie was not less distinguished by coolness and judgment, +than, where occasion offered, by his dauntless intrepidity. He at once +saw his advantage, and determined to profit by it. The column he led +began slowly to retire from the field, when the youthful German, who +commanded the enemy’s horse, fearful of missing an easy conquest, gave +the word to charge. Few troops were more hardy than the Cowboys; they +sprang eagerly forward in the pursuit, with a confidence created by the +retiring foe and the column in their rear; the Hessians followed more +slowly, but in better order. The trumpets of the Virginians now sounded +long and lively; they were answered by a strain from the party in +ambush that went to the hearts of their enemies. The column of +Dunwoodie wheeled in perfect order, opened, and, as the word to charge +was given, the troops of Lawton emerged from their cover, with their +leader in advance, waving his saber over his head, and shouting, in a +voice that was heard above the clangor of the martial music. + +The charge threatened too much for the refugee troop. They scattered in +every direction, flying from the field as fast as their horses, the +chosen beasts of Westchester, could carry them. Only a few were hurt; +but such as did meet the arms of their avenging countrymen never +survived the blow, to tell who struck it. It was upon the poor vassals +of the German tyrant that the shock fell. Disciplined to the most exact +obedience, these ill-fated men met the charge bravely, but they were +swept before the mettled horses and nervous arms of their antagonists +like chaff before the wind. Many of them were literally ridden down, +and Dunwoodie soon saw the field without an opposing foe. The proximity +of the infantry prevented pursuit, and behind its column the few +Hessians who escaped unhurt sought protection. + +The more cunning refugees dispersed in small bands, taking various and +devious routes back to their old station in front of Harlem. Many was +the sufferer, in cattle, furniture, and person, that was created by +this rout; for the dispersion of a troop of Cowboys was only the +extension of an evil. + +Such a scene could not be expected to be acted so near them, and the +inmates of the cottage take no interest in the result. In truth, the +feelings it excited pervaded every bosom, from the kitchen to the +parlor. Terror and horror had prevented the ladies from being +spectators, but they did not feel the less. Frances continued lying in +the posture we have mentioned, offering up fervent and incoherent +petitions for the safety of her countrymen, although in her inmost +heart she had personified her nation by the graceful image of Peyton +Dunwoodie. Her aunt and sister were less exclusive in their devotions; +but Sarah began to feel, as the horrors of war were thus brought home +to her senses, less pleasure in her anticipated triumphs. + +The inmates of Mr. Wharton’s kitchen were four, namely, Caesar and his +spouse, their granddaughter, a jet-black damsel of twenty, and the boy +before alluded to. The blacks were the remnants of a race of negroes +which had been entailed on his estate from Mr. Wharton’s maternal +ancestors, who were descended from the early Dutch colonists. Time, +depravity, and death had reduced them to this small number; and the +boy, who was white, had been added by Miss Peyton to the establishment, +as an assistant, to perform the ordinary services of a footman. Caesar, +after first using the precaution to place himself under the cover of an +angle in the wall, for a screen against any roving bullet which might +be traversing the air, became an amused spectator of the skirmish. The +sentinel on the piazza was at the distance of but a few feet from him, +and he entered into the spirit of the chase with all the ardor of a +tried bloodhound. He noticed the approach of the black, and his +judicious position, with a smile of contempt, as he squared himself +towards the enemy, offering his unprotected breast to any dangers which +might come. + +After considering the arrangement of Caesar, for a moment, with +ineffable disdain, the dragoon said, with great coolness,— + +“You seem very careful of that beautiful person of yours, Mr. +Blueskin.” + +“A bullet hurt a colored man as much as a white,” muttered the black, +surlily, casting a glance of much satisfaction at his rampart. + +“Suppose I make the experiment,” returned the sentinel. As he spoke, he +deliberately drew a pistol from his belt, and leveled it at the black. +Caesar’s teeth chattered at the appearance of the dragoon, although he +believed nothing serious was intended. At this moment the column of +Dunwoodie began to retire, and the royal cavalry commenced their +charge. + +“There, Mister Light-Horseman,” said Caesar eagerly, who believed the +Americans were retiring in earnest; “why you rebels don’t fight—see—see +how King George’s men make Major Dunwoodie run! Good gentleman, too, +but he don’t like to fight a rig’lar.” + +“Damn your regulars,” cried the other, fiercely. “Wait a minute, +blackey, and you’ll see Captain Jack Lawton come out from behind yonder +hill, and scatter these Cowboys like wild geese who’ve lost their +leader.” + +Caesar supposed the party under Lawton to have sought the shelter of +the hill from motives similar to that which had induced him to place +the wall between himself and the battle ground; but the fact soon +verified the trooper’s prophecy, and the black witnessed with +consternation the total rout of the royal horse. + +The sentinel manifested his exultation at the success of his comrades +with loud shouts, which soon brought his companion, who had been left +in the more immediate charge of Henry Wharton, to the open window of +the parlor. + +“See, Tom, see,” cried the delighted trooper, “how Captain Lawton makes +that Hessian’s leather cap fly; and now the major has killed the +officer’s horse—zounds, why didn’t he kill the Dutchman and save the +horse?” + +A few pistols were discharged at the flying Cowboys, and a spent bullet +broke a pane of glass within a few feet of Caesar. Imitating the +posture of the great tempter of our race, the black sought the +protection of the inside of the building, and immediately ascended to +the parlor. + +The lawn in front of the Locusts was hidden from the view of the road +by a close line of shrubbery, and the horses of the two dragoons had +been left, linked together, under its shelter, to await the movements +of their masters. + +At this moment two Cowboys, who had been cut off from a retreat to +their own party, rode furiously through the gate, with an intention of +escaping to the open wood in the rear of the cottage. + +The victorious Americans pressed the retreating Germans until they had +driven them under the protection of the fire of the infantry; and +feeling themselves, in the privacy of the lawn, relieved from any +immediate danger, the predatory warriors yielded to a temptation that +few of the corps were ever known to resist—opportunity and horseflesh. +With a hardihood and presence of mind that could only exist from long +practice in similar scenes, they made towards their intended prizes, by +an almost spontaneous movement. They were busily engaged in separating +the fastenings of the horses, when the trooper on the piazza discharged +his pistols, and rushed, sword in hand, to the rescue. + +The entrance of Caesar into the parlor had induced the wary dragoon +within to turn his attention more closely on his prisoner; but this new +interruption drew him again to the window. He threw his body out of the +building, and with dreadful imprecations endeavored, by his threats and +appearance, to frighten the marauders from their prey. The moment was +enticing. Three hundred of his comrades were within a mile of the +cottage; unridden horses were running at large in every direction, and +Henry Wharton seized the unconscious sentinel by his legs, and threw +him headlong into the lawn. Caesar vanished from the room, and drew a +bolt of the outer door. + +The fall of the soldier was not great, and recovering his feet, he +turned his fury for a moment on his prisoner. To scale the window in +the face of such an enemy, was, however, impossible, and on trial he +found the main entrance barred. + +His comrade now called loudly upon him for aid, and forgetful of +everything else, the discomfited trooper rushed to his assistance. One +horse was instantly liberated, but the other was already fastened to +the saddle of a Cowboy, and the four retired behind the building, +cutting furiously at each other with their sabers, and making the air +resound with their imprecations. Caesar threw the outer door open, and +pointing to the remaining horse, that was quietly biting the faded +herbage of the lawn, he exclaimed,— + +“Run—now—run—Massa Harry, run.” + +“Yes,” cried the youth as he vaulted into the saddle, “now, indeed, my +honest fellow, is the time to run.” He beckoned hastily to his father, +who stood at the window in speechless anxiety, with his hands extended +towards his child in the attitude of benediction, and adding, “God +bless you, Caesar, salute the girls,” he dashed through the gate with +the rapidity of lightning. + +The African watched him with anxiety as he gained the highway, saw him +incline to the right, and riding furiously under the brow of some +rocks, which on that side rose perpendicularly, disappear behind a +projection, which soon hid him from view. + +The delighted Caesar closed the door, pushing bolt after bolt, and +turning the key until it would turn no more, soliloquizing the whole +time on the happy escape of his young master. + +“How well he ride—teach him good deal myself—salute a young lady—Miss +Fanny wouldn’t let old colored man kiss a red cheek.” + +When the fortune of the day was decided, and the time arrived for the +burial of the dead, two Cowboys and a Virginian were found in the rear +of the Locusts, to be included in the number. + +Happily for Henry Wharton, the searching eyes of his captors were +examining, through a pocket glass, the column of infantry that still +held its position on the bank of the stream, while the remnants of the +Hessian yagers were seeking its friendly protection. His horse was of +the best blood of Virginia, and carried him with the swiftness of the +wind along the Valley; and the heart of the youth was already beating +tumultuously with pleasure at his deliverance, when a well-known voice +reached his startled ear, crying aloud,— + +“Bravely done, captain! Don’t spare the whip, and turn to your left +before you cross the brook.” + +Wharton turned his head in surprise, and saw, sitting on the point of a +jutting rock that commanded a bird’s-eye view of the valley, his former +guide, Harvey Birch. His pack, much diminished in size, lay at the feet +of the peddler, who waved his hat to the youth, exultingly, as the +latter flew by him. The English captain took the advice of this +mysterious being, and finding a good road, which led to the highway, +that intersected the valley, turned down its direction, and was soon +opposite to his friends. The next minute he crossed the bridge, and +stopped his charger before his old acquaintance, Colonel Wellmere. + +“Captain Wharton!” exclaimed the astonished commander of the English +troops, “dressed in mohair, and mounted on a rebel dragoon horse! Are +you from the clouds in this attire, and in such a style?” + +“Thank God!” cried the youth, recovering his breath, “I am safe, and +have escaped from the hands of my enemies; but five minutes since and I +was a prisoner, and threatened with the gallows.” + +“The gallows, Captain Wharton! surely those traitors to the king would +never dare to commit another murder in cold blood; is it not enough +that they took the life of André? Wherefore did they threaten you with +a similar fate?” + +“Under the pretense of a similar offense,” said the captain, briefly +explaining to the group of listeners the manner of his capture, the +grounds of his personal apprehensions, and the method of his escape. By +the time he had concluded his narration, the fugitive Germans were +collected in the rear of the column of infantry, and Colonel Wellmere +cried aloud,— + +“From my soul I congratulate you, my brave friend; mercy is a quality +with which these traitors are unacquainted, and you are doubly +fortunate in escaping from their hands uninjured. Prepare yourself to +grant me your assistance and I will soon afford you a noble revenge.” + +“I do not think there was danger of personal outrage to any man, +Colonel Wellmere, from a party that Major Dunwoodie commands,” returned +young Wharton, with a slight glow on his face. “His character is above +the imputation of such an offense; neither do I think it altogether +prudent to cross this brook into the open plain, in the face of those +Virginian horse, flushed as they must be with the success they have +just obtained.” + +“Do you call the rout of those irregulars and these sluggish Hessians a +deed to boast of?” said the other with a contemptuous smile. “You speak +of the affair, Captain Wharton, as if your boasted Mr. Dunwoodie, for +major he is none, had discomfited the bodyguards of your king.” + +“And I must be allowed to say, Colonel Wellmere, that if the bodyguards +of my king were in yon field, they would meet a foe that it would be +dangerous to despise. Sir, my boasted Mr. Dunwoodie is the pride of +Washington’s army as a cavalry officer,” cried Henry with warmth. + +“Dunwoodie, Dunwoodie!” repeated the colonel slowly, “surely I have met +the gentleman before.” + +“I have been told you once saw him for a moment, at the town residence +of my sisters,” replied Wharton, with a lurking smile. + +“Ah! I do remember me of such a youth; and does the most potent +congress of these rebellious colonies intrust their soldiers to the +leading of such a warrior!” + +“Ask the commander of yon Hessian horse, whether he thinks Major +Dunwoodie worthy of the confidence.” + +Colonel Wellmere was far from wanting that kind of pride which makes a +man bear himself bravely in the presence of his enemies. He had served +in America a long time, without ever meeting with any but new raised +levies, or the militia of the country. These would sometimes fight, and +that fearlessly, but they as often chose to run away without pulling a +trigger. He was too apt to judge from externals, and thought it +impossible for men whose gaiters were so clean, whose tread so regular, +and who wheeled with so much accuracy, to be beaten. In addition to all +these, they were Englishmen, and their success was certain. Colonel +Wellmere had never been kept much in the field, or these notions, which +he had brought with him from home, and which had been greatly increased +by the vaporing of a garrisoned town, would have long since vanished. +He listened to the warm reply of Captain Wharton with a supercilious +smile, and then inquired,— + +“You would not have us retire, sir, before these boasted horsemen, +without doing something that may deprive them of part of the glory +which you appear to think they have gained!” + +“I would have you advised, Colonel Wellmere, of the danger you are +about to encounter.” + +“Danger is but an unseemly word for a soldier,” continued the British +commander with a sneer. + +“And one as little dreaded by the 60th, as any corps who wear the royal +livery,” cried Henry Wharton, fiercely. “Give but the word to charge, +and let our actions speak.” + +“Now again I know my young friend,” cried Wellmere, soothingly; “but if +you have anything to say before we fight, that can in any manner help +us in our attack, we’ll listen. You know the force of the rebels; are +there more of them in ambush?” + +“Yes,” replied the youth, chafing still under the other’s sneers, “in +the skirt of this wood on our right are a small party of foot; their +horse are all before you.” + +“Where they will not continue long,” cried Wellmere, turning to the few +officers around him. “Gentlemen, we will cross the stream in column, +and deploy on the plain beyond, or else we shall not be able to entice +these valiant Yankees within the reach of our muskets. Captain Wharton, +I claim your assistance as an aid-de-camp.” + +The youth shook his head in disapprobation of a movement which his good +sense taught him was rash, but prepared with alacrity to perform his +duty in the impending trial. + +During this conversation, which was held at a small distance in advance +of the British column, and in full view of the Americans, Dunwoodie had +been collecting his scattered troops, securing his few prisoners, and +retiring to the ground where he had been posted at the first appearance +of his enemy. Satisfied with the success he had already obtained, and +believing the English too wary to give him an opportunity of harassing +them further, he was about to withdraw the guides; and, leaving a +strong party on the ground to watch the movements of the regulars, to +fall back a few miles, to a favorable place for taking up his quarters +for the night. Captain Lawton was reluctantly listening to the +reasoning of his commander, and had brought out his favorite glass, to +see if no opening could be found for an advantageous attack, when he +suddenly exclaimed,— + +“How’s this! a bluecoat among those scarlet gentry? As I hope to live +to see old Virginia, it is my masquerading friend of the 60th, the +handsome Captain Wharton, escaped from two of my best men!” + +He had not done speaking when the survivor of these heroes joined his +troop, bringing with him his own horse and those of the Cowboys; he +reported the death of his comrade, and the escape of his prisoner. As +the deceased was the immediate sentinel over the person of young +Wharton, and the other was not to be blamed for defending the horses, +which were more particularly under his care, his captain heard him with +uneasiness but without anger. + +This intelligence made an entire change in the views of Major +Dunwoodie. He saw at once that his own reputation was involved in the +escape of his prisoner. The order to recall the guides was +countermanded, and he now joined his second in command, watching as +eagerly as the impetuous Lawton himself, for some opening to assail his +foe to advantage. + +But two hours before, and Dunwoodie had felt the chance which made +Henry Wharton his captive, as the severest blow he had ever sustained. +Now he panted for an opportunity in which, by risking his own life, he +might recapture his friend. All other considerations were lost in the +goadings of a wounded spirit, and he might have soon emulated Lawton in +hardihood, had not Wellmere and his troops at this moment crossed the +brook into the open plain. + +“There,” cried the delighted captain, as he pointed out the movement +with his finger, “there comes John Bull into the mousetrap, and with +eyes wide open.” + +“Surely,” said Dunwoodie eagerly, “he will not deploy his column on +that flat. Wharton must tell him of the ambush. But if he does—” + +“We will not leave him a dozen sound skins in his battalion,” +interrupted the other, springing into his saddle. + +The truth was soon apparent; for the English column, after advancing +for a short distance on the level land, deployed with an accuracy that +would have done them honor on a field day in their own Hyde Park. + +“Prepare to mount-mount!” cried Dunwoodie; the last word being repeated +by Lawton in a tone that rang in the ears of Caesar, who stood at the +open window of the cottage. The black recoiled in dismay, having lost +all his confidence in Captain Lawton’s timidity; for he thought he yet +saw him emerging from his cover and waving his sword on high. + +As the British line advanced slowly and in exact order, the guides +opened a galling fire. It began to annoy that part of the royal troops +which was nearest to them. Wellmere listened to the advice of the +veteran, who was next to him in rank, and ordered two companies to +dislodge the American foot from their hiding place. The movement +created a slight confusion; and Dunwoodie seized the opportunity to +charge. No ground could be more favorable for the maneuvers of horse, +and the attack of the Virginians was irresistible. It was aimed chiefly +at the bank opposite to the wood, in order to clear the Americans from +the fire of their friends who were concealed; and it was completely +successful. Wellmere, who was on the left of his line, was overthrown +by the impetuous fury of his assailants. Dunwoodie was in time to save +him from the impending blow of one of his men, and raised him from the +ground, had him placed on a horse, and delivered to the custody of his +orderly. The officer who had suggested the attack upon the guides had +been intrusted with its execution, but the menace was sufficient for +these irregulars. In fact, their duty was performed, and they retired +along the skirt of the wood, with intent to regain their horses, which +had been left under a guard at the upper end of the valley. + +The left of the British line was outflanked by the Americans, who +doubled in their rear, and thus made the rout in that quarter total. +But the second in command, perceiving how the battle went, promptly +wheeled his party, and threw in a heavy fire on the dragoons, as they +passed him to the charge; with this party was Henry Wharton, who had +volunteered to assist in dispersing the guides. A ball struck his +bridle arm, and compelled him to change hands. As the dragoons dashed +by them, rending the air with their shouts, and with trumpets sounding +a lively strain, the charger ridden by the youth became ungovernable—he +plunged, reared, and his rider being unable with his wounded arm, to +manage the impatient animal, Henry Wharton found himself, in less than +a minute, unwillingly riding by the side of Captain Lawton. The dragoon +comprehended at a glance the ludicrous situation of his new comrade, +but had only time to cry aloud, before they plunged into the English +line,— + +“The horse knows the righteous cause better than his rider. Captain +Wharton, you are welcome to the ranks of freedom.” + +No time was lost, however, by Lawton, after the charge was completed, +in securing his prisoner again; and perceiving him to be hurt, he +directed him to be conveyed to the rear. + +The Virginian troopers dealt out their favors, with no gentle hands, on +that part of the royal foot who were thus left in a great measure at +their mercy. Dunwoodie, observing that the remnant of the Hessians had +again ventured on the plain, led on in pursuit, and easily overtaking +their light and half-fed horses, soon destroyed the remainder of the +detachment. + +In the meanwhile, great numbers of the English, taking advantage of the +smoke and confusion in the field, were enabled to get in the rear of +the body of their countrymen, which still preserved its order in a line +parallel to the wood, but which had been obliged to hold its fire, from +the fear of injuring friends as well as foes. The fugitives were +directed to form a second line within the wood itself, and under cover +of the trees. This arrangement was not yet completed, when Captain +Lawton called to a youth, who commanded the other troop left with that +part of the force which remained on the ground, and proposed charging +the unbroken line of the British. The proposal was as promptly accepted +as it had been made, and the troops were arrayed for the purpose. The +eagerness of their leader prevented the preparations necessary to +insure success, and the horse, receiving a destructive fire as they +advanced, were thrown into additional confusion. Both Lawton and his +more juvenile comrade fell at this discharge. Fortunately for the +credit of the Virginians, Major Dunwoodie reentered the field at this +critical instant; he saw his troops in disorder; at his feet lay +weltering in blood George Singleton, a youth endeared to him by +numberless virtues, and Lawton was unhorsed and stretched on the plain. +The eye of the youthful warrior flashed fire. Riding between this +squadron and the enemy, in a voice that reached the hearts of his +dragoons, he recalled them to their duty. His presence and word acted +like magic. The clamor of voices ceased; the line was formed promptly +and with exactitude; the charge sounded; and, led on by their +commander, the Virginians swept across the plain with an impetuosity +that nothing could withstand, and the field was instantly cleared of +the enemy; those who were not destroyed sought a shelter in the woods. +Dunwoodie slowly withdrew from the fire of the English who were covered +by the trees, and commenced the painful duty of collecting his dead and +wounded. + +The sergeant charged with conducting Henry Wharton to a place where he +might procure surgical aid, set about performing his duty with +alacrity, in order to return as soon as possible to the scene of +strife. They had not reached the middle of the plain, before the +captain noticed a man whose appearance and occupation forcibly arrested +his attention. His head was bald and bare, but a well-powdered wig was +to be seen, half-concealed, in the pocket of his breeches. His coat was +off, and his arms were naked to the elbow; blood had disfigured much of +his dress, and his hands, and even face, bore this mark of his +profession; in his mouth was a cigar; in his right hand some +instruments of strange formation, and in his left the remnants of an +apple, with which he occasionally relieved the duty of the +before-mentioned cigar. He was standing, lost in the contemplation of a +Hessian, who lay breathless before him. At a little distance were three +or four of the guides, leaning on their muskets, and straining their +eyes in the direction of the combatants, and at his elbow stood a man +who, from the implements in his hand, seemed an assistant. + +“There, sir, is the doctor,” said the attendant of Henry very coolly. +“He will patch up your arm in the twinkling of an eye”; and beckoning +to the guides to approach, he whispered and pointed to his prisoner, +and then galloped furiously towards his comrades. + +Wharton advanced to the side of this strange figure, and observing +himself to be unnoticed, was about to request his assistance, when the +other broke silence in a soliloquy:— + +“Now, I know this man to have been killed by Captain Lawton, as well as +if I had seen him strike the blow. How often have I strove to teach him +the manner in which he can disable his adversary, without destroying +life! It is cruel thus unnecessarily to cut off the human race, and +furthermore, such blows as these render professional assistance +unnecessary; it is in a measure treating the lights of science with +disrespect.” + +“If, sir, your leisure will admit,” said Henry Wharton, “I must beg +your attention to a slight hurt.” + +“Ah!” cried the other, starting, and examining him from head to foot, +“you are from the field below. Is there much business there, sir?” + +“Indeed,” answered Henry, accepting the offer of the surgeon to assist +in removing his coat, “’tis a stirring time.” + +“Stirring!” repeated the surgeon, busily employed with his dressings; +“you give me great pleasure, sir; for so long as they can stir there +must be life; and while there is life, you know, there is hope; but +here my art is of no use. I did put in the brains of one patient, but I +rather think the man must have been dead before I saw him. It is a +curious case, sir; I will take you to see it—only across the fence +there, where you may perceive so many bodies together. Ah! the ball has +glanced around the bone without shattering it; you are fortunate in +falling into the hands of an old practitioner, or you might have lost +this limb.” + +“Indeed!” said Henry, with a slight uneasiness. “I did not apprehend +the injury to be so serious.” + +“Oh, the hurt is not bad, but you have such a pretty arm for an +operation; the pleasure of the thing might have tempted a novice.” + +“The devil!” cried the captain. “Can there be any pleasure in +mutilating a fellow creature?” + +“Sir,” said the surgeon, with gravity, “a scientific amputation is a +very pretty operation, and doubtless might tempt a younger man, in the +hurry of business, to overlook all the particulars of the case.” + +Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the dragoons, +slowly marching towards their former halting place, and new +applications from the slightly wounded soldiers, who now came riding +in, making hasty demands on the skill of the doctor. + +The guides took charge of Wharton, and, with a heavy heart, the young +man retraced his steps to his father’s cottage. + +The English had lost in the several charges about one third of their +foot, but the remainder were rallied in the wood; and Dunwoodie, +perceiving them to be too strongly posted to assail, had left a strong +party with Captain Lawton, with orders to watch their motions, and to +seize every opportunity to harass them before they reëmbarked. + +Intelligence had reached the major of another party being out, by the +way of the Hudson, and his duty required that he should hold himself in +readiness to defeat the intentions of these also. Captain Lawton +received his orders with strong injunctions to make no assault on the +foe, unless a favorable chance should offer. + +The injury received by this officer was in the head, being stunned by a +glancing bullet; and parting with a laughing declaration from the +major, that if he again forgot himself, they should all think him more +materially hurt, each took his own course. + +The British were a light party without baggage, that had been sent out +to destroy certain stores, understood to be collecting for the use of +the American army. They now retired through the woods to the heights, +and, keeping the route along their summits, in places unassailable by +cavalry, commenced a retreat to their boats. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +With fire and sword the country round +Was wasted far and wide; +And many a childing mother then, +And new-born infant, died; +But things like these, you know, must be +At every famous victory. + + +—SOUTHEY. + + +The last sounds of the combat died on the ears of the anxious listeners +in the cottage, and were succeeded by the stillness of suspense. +Frances had continued by herself, striving to exclude the uproar, and +vainly endeavoring to summon resolution to meet the dreaded result. The +ground where the charge on the foot had taken place was but a short +mile from the Locusts, and, in the intervals of the musketry, the cries +of the soldiers had even reached the ears of its inhabitants. After +witnessing the escape of his son, Mr. Wharton had joined his sister and +eldest daughter in their retreat, and the three continued fearfully +waiting for news from the field. Unable longer to remain under the +painful uncertainty of her situation, Frances soon added herself to the +uneasy group, and Caesar was directed to examine into the state of +things without, and report on whose banners victory had alighted. The +father now briefly related to his astonished children the circumstance +and manner of their brother’s escape. They were yet in the freshness of +their surprise, when the door opened, and Captain Wharton, attended by +a couple of the guides, and followed by the black, stood before them. + +“Henry—my son, my son,” cried the agitated parent, stretching out his +arms, yet unable to rise from his seat; “what is it I see; are you +again a captive, and in danger of your life?” + +“The better fortune of these rebels has prevailed,” said the youth, +endeavoring to force a cheerful smile, and taking a hand of each of his +distressed sisters. “I strove nobly for my liberty; but the perverse +spirit of rebellion has even lighted on their horses. The steed I +mounted carried me, greatly against my will, I acknowledge, into the +very center of Dunwoodie’s men.” + +“And you were again captured,” continued the father, casting a fearful +glance on the armed attendants who had entered the room. + +“That, sir, you may safely say; this Mr. Lawton, who sees so far, had +me in custody again immediately.” + +“Why you no hold ’em in, Massa Henry?” cried Caesar, pettishly. + +“That,” said Wharton, smiling, “was a thing easier said than done, Mr. +Caesar, especially as these gentlemen” (glancing his eyes at the +guides) “had seen proper to deprive me of the use of my better arm.” + +“Wounded!” exclaimed both sisters in a breath. + +“A mere scratch, but disabling me at a most critical moment,” continued +the brother, kindly, and stretching out the injured limb to manifest +the truth of his declaration. Caesar threw a look of bitter animosity +on the irregular warriors who were thought to have had an agency in the +deed, and left the room. A few more words sufficed to explain all that +Captain Wharton knew relative to the fortune of the day. The result he +thought yet doubtful, for when he left the ground, the Virginians were +retiring from the field of battle. + +“They had treed the squirrel,” said one of the sentinels abruptly, “and +didn’t quit the ground without leaving a good hound for the chase when +he comes down.” + +“Aye,” added his comrade dryly, “I’m thinking Captain Lawton will count +the noses of what are left before they see their whaleboats.” + +Frances had stood supporting herself, by the back of a chair, during +this dialogue, catching, in breathless anxiety, every syllable as it +was uttered; her color changed rapidly; her limbs shook under her; +until, with desperate resolution, she inquired,— + +“Is any officer hurt on—the—on either side?” + +“Yes,” answered the man, cavalierly, “these Southern youths are so full +of mettle, that it’s seldom we fight but one or two gets knocked over; +one of the wounded, who came up before the troops, told me that Captain +Singleton was killed, and Major Dunwoodie—” + +Frances heard no more, but fell lifeless in the chair behind her. The +attention of her friends soon revived her when the captain, turning to +the man, said fearfully,— + +“Surely Major Dunwoodie is unhurt?” + +“Never fear him,” added the guide, disregarding the agitation of the +family. “They say a man who is born to be hanged will never be drowned; +if a bullet could kill the major, he would have been dead long ago. I +was going to say, that the major is in a sad taking because of the +captain’s being killed; but had I known how much store the lady set by +him, I wouldn’t have been so plain-spoken.” + +Frances now rose quickly from her seat, with cheeks glowing with +confusion, and, leaning on her aunt, was about to retire, when +Dunwoodie himself appeared. The first emotion of the agitated girl was +unalloyed happiness; in the next instant she shrank back appalled from +the unusual expression that reigned in his countenance. The sternness +of battle yet sat on his brow; his eye was fixed and severe. The smile +of affection that used to lighten his dark features on meeting his +mistress, was supplanted by the lowering look of care; his whole soul +seemed to be absorbed in one engrossing emotion, and he proceeded at +once to his object. + +“Mr. Wharton,” he earnestly began, “in times like these, we need not +stand on idle ceremony: one of my officers, I am afraid, is hurt +mortally; and, presuming on your hospitality, I have brought him to +your door.” + +“I am happy, sir, that you have done so,” said Mr. Wharton, at once +perceiving the importance of conciliating the American troops. “The +necessitous are always welcome, and doubly so, in being the friend of +Major Dunwoodie.” + +“Sir, I thank you for myself, and in behalf of him who is unable to +render you his thanks,” returned the other, hastily. “If you please, we +will have him conducted where the surgeon may see and report upon his +case without delay.” To this there could be no objection; and Frances +felt a chill at her heart, as her lover withdrew, without casting a +solitary look on herself. + +There is a devotedness in female love that admits of no rivalry. All +the tenderness of the heart, all the powers of the imagination, are +enlisted in behalf of the tyrant passion; and where all is given, much +is looked for in return. Frances had spent hours of anguish, of +torture, on account of Dunwoodie, and he now met her without a smile, +and left her without a greeting. The ardor of her feelings was +unabated, but the elasticity of her hopes was weakened. As the +supporters of the nearly lifeless body of Dunwoodie’s friend passed +her, in their way to the apartment prepared for his reception, she +caught a view of this seeming rival. + +His pale and ghastly countenance, sunken eye, and difficult breathing, +gave her a glimpse of death in its most fearful form. Dunwoodie was by +his side and held his hand, giving frequent and stern injunctions to +the men to proceed with care, and, in short, manifesting all the +solicitude that the most tender friendship could, on such an occasion, +inspire. Frances moved lightly before them, and, with an averted face, +she held open the door for their passage to the bed; it was only as the +major touched her garments, on entering the room, that she ventured to +raise her mild blue eyes to his face. But the glance was unreturned, +and Frances unconsciously sighed as she sought the solitude of her own +apartment. + +Captain Wharton voluntarily gave a pledge to his keepers not to attempt +again escaping, and then proceeded to execute those duties on behalf of +his father, which were thought necessary in a host. On entering the +passage for that purpose, he met the operator who had so dexterously +dressed his arm, advancing to the room of the wounded officer. + +“Ah!” cried the disciple of Aesculapius, “I see you are doing well; but +stop; have you a pin? No! here, I have one; you must keep the cold air +from your hurt, or some of the youngsters will be at work at you yet.” + +“God forbid,” muttered the captain, in an undertone, attentively +adjusting the bandages, when Dunwoodie appeared at the door, +impatiently crying aloud,— + +“Hasten, Sitgreaves, hasten; or George Singleton will die from loss of +blood.” + +“What! Singleton! God forbid! Bless me—is it George—poor little +George?” exclaimed the surgeon, as he quickened his pace with evident +concern, and hastened to the side of the bed. “He is alive, though, and +while there is life there is hope. This is the first serious case I +have had to-day, where the patient was not already dead. Captain Lawton +teaches his men to strike with so little discretion—poor George—bless +me, it is a musket bullet.” + +The youthful sufferer turned his eyes on the man of science, and with a +faint smile endeavored to stretch forth his hand. There was an appeal +in the look and action that touched the heart of the operator. The +surgeon removed his spectacles to wipe an unusual moisture from his +eyes, and proceeded carefully to the discharge of his duty. While the +previous arrangements were, however, making, he gave vent in some +measure to his feelings, by saying,— + +“When it is only a bullet, I have always some hopes; there is a chance +that it hits nothing vital. But, bless me, Captain Lawton’s men cut so +at random—generally sever the jugular or the carotid artery, or let out +the brains, and all are so difficult to remedy—the patient mostly dying +before one can get at him. I never had success but once in replacing a +man’s brains, although I have tried three this very day. It is easy to +tell where Lawton’s troops charge in a battle, they cut so at random.” + +The group around the bed of Captain Singleton were too much accustomed +to the manner of their surgeon to regard or to reply to his soliloquy; +but they quietly awaited the moment when he was to commence his +examination. This now took place, and Dunwoodie stood looking the +operator in the face, with an expression that seemed to read his soul. +The patient shrank from the application of the probe, and a smile stole +over the features of the surgeon, as he muttered,— + +“There has been nothing before it in that quarter.” He now applied +himself in earnest to his work, took off his spectacles, and threw +aside his wig. All this time Dunwoodie stood in feverish silence, +holding one of the hands of the sufferer in both his own, watching the +countenance of Doctor Sitgreaves. At length Singleton gave a slight +groan, and the surgeon rose with alacrity, and said aloud,— + +“Ah! there is some pleasure in following a bullet; it may be said to +meander through the human body, injuring nothing vital; but as for +Captain Lawton’s men—” + +“Speak,” interrupted Dunwoodie; “is there hope?—can you find the ball?” + +“It’s no difficult matter to find that which one has in his hand, Major +Dunwoodie,” replied the surgeon, coolly, preparing his dressings. “It +took what that literal fellow, Captain Lawton, calls a circumbendibus, +a route never taken by the swords of his men, notwithstanding the +multiplied pains I have been at to teach him how to cut scientifically. +Now, I saw a horse this day with his head half severed from his body.” + +“That,” said Dunwoodie, as the blood rushed to his cheeks again, and +his dark eyes sparkled with the rays of hope, “was some of my +handiwork; I killed that horse myself.” + +“You!” exclaimed the surgeon, dropping his dressings in surprise, “you! +But you knew it was a horse!” + +“I had such suspicions, I own,” said the major, smiling, and holding a +beverage to the lips of his friend. + +“Such blows alighting on the human frame are fatal,” continued the +doctor, pursuing his business. “They set at naught the benefits which +flow from the lights of science; they are useless in a battle, for +disabling your foe is all that is required. I have sat, Major +Dunwoodie, many a cold hour, while Captain Lawton has been engaged, and +after all my expectation, not a single case worth recording has +occurred—all scratches or death wounds. Ah! the saber is a sad weapon +in unskillful hands! Yes, Major Dunwoodie, many are the hours I have +thrown away in endeavoring to impress this truth on Captain John +Lawton.” + +The impatient major pointed silently to his friend, and the surgeon +quickened his movements. + +“Ah! poor George, it is a narrow chance; but”—he was interrupted by a +messenger requiring the presence of the commanding officer in the +field. Dunwoodie pressed the hand of his friend, and beckoned the +doctor to follow him, as he withdrew. + +“What think you?” he whispered, on reaching the passage. “Will he +live?” + +“He will.” + +“Thank God!” cried the youth, hastening below. + +Dunwoodie for a moment joined the family, who were now collecting in +the ordinary parlor. His face was no longer wanting in smiles, and his +salutations, though hasty, were cordial. He took no notice of the +escape and capture of Henry Wharton, but seemed to think the young man +had continued where he had left him before the encounter. On the ground +they had not met. The English officer withdrew in haughty silence to a +window, leaving the major uninterrupted to make his communications. + +The excitement produced by the events of the day in the youthful +feelings of the sisters, had been succeeded by a languor that kept them +both silent, and Dunwoodie held his discourse with Miss Peyton. + +“Is there any hope, my cousin, that your friend can survive his wound?” +said the lady, advancing towards her kinsman, with a smile of +benevolent regard. + +“Everything, my dear madam, everything,” answered the soldier +cheerfully. “Sitgreaves says he will live, and he has never deceived +me.” + +“Your pleasure is not much greater than my own at this intelligence. +One so dear to Major Dunwoodie cannot fail to excite an interest in the +bosom of his friends.” + +“Say one so deservedly dear, madam,” returned the major, with warmth. +“He is the beneficent spirit of the corps, equally beloved by us all; +so mild, so equal, so just, so generous, with the meekness of a lamb +and the fondness of a dove—it is only in the hour of battle that +Singleton is a lion.” + +“You speak of him as if he were your mistress, Major Dunwoodie,” +observed the smiling spinster, glancing her eye at her niece, who sat +pale and listening, in a corner of the room. + +“I love him as one,” cried the excited youth. “But he requires care and +nursing; all now depends on the attention he receives.” + +“Trust me, sir, he will want for nothing under this roof.” + +“Pardon me, dear madam; you are all that is benevolent, but Singleton +requires a care which many men would feel to be irksome. It is at +moments like these, and in sufferings like this, that the soldier most +finds the want of female tenderness.” As he spoke, he turned his eyes +on Frances with an expression that again thrilled to the heart of his +mistress; she rose from her seat with burning cheeks, and said,— + +“All the attention that can with propriety be given to a stranger, will +be cheerfully bestowed on your friend.” + +“Ah!” cried the major, shaking his head, “that cold word propriety will +kill him; he must be fostered, cherished, soothed.” + +“These are offices for a sister or a wife.” + +“A sister!” repeated the soldier, the blood rushing to his own face +tumultuously; “a sister! He has a sister; and one that might be here +with to-morrow’s sun.” He paused, mused in silence, glanced his eyes +uneasily at Frances, and muttered in an undertone, “Singleton requires +it, and it must be done.” + +The ladies had watched his varying countenance in some surprise, and +Miss Peyton now observed that,— + +“If there were a sister of Captain Singleton near them, her presence +would be gladly requested both by herself and nieces.” + +“It must be, madam; it cannot well be otherwise,” replied Dunwoodie, +with a hesitation that but ill agreed with his former declarations. +“She shall be sent for express this very night.” And then, as if +willing to change the subject, he approached Captain Wharton, and +continued, mildly,— + +“Henry Wharton, to me honor is dearer than life; but in your hands I +know it can safely be confided. Remain here unwatched until we leave +the county, which will not be for some days.” + +The distance in the manner of the English officer vanished, and taking +the offered hand of the other, he replied with warmth, “Your generous +confidence, Peyton, will not be abused, even though the gibbet on which +your Washington hung André be ready for my own execution.” + +“Henry, Henry Wharton,” said Dunwoodie reproachfully, “you little know +the man who leads our armies, or you would have spared him that +reproach; but duty calls me without. I leave you where I could wish to +stay myself, and where you cannot be wholly unhappy.” + +In passing Frances, she received another of those smiling looks of +affection she so much prized, and for a season the impression made by +his appearance after the battle was forgotten. + +Among the veterans that had been impelled by the times to abandon the +quiet of age for the service of their country, was Colonel Singleton. +He was a native of Georgia, and had been for the earlier years of his +life a soldier by profession. When the struggle for liberty commenced, +he offered his services to his country, and from respect to his +character they had been accepted. His years and health had, however, +prevented his discharging the active duties of the field, and he had +been kept in command of different posts of trust, where his country +might receive the benefits of his vigilance and fidelity without +inconvenience to himself. For the last year he had been intrusted with +the passes into the Highlands, and was now quartered, with his +daughter, but a short day’s march above the valley where Dunwoodie had +met the enemy. His only other child was the wounded officer we have +mentioned. Thither, then, the major prepared to dispatch a messenger +with the unhappy news of the captain’s situation, and charged with such +an invitation from the ladies as he did not doubt would speedily bring +the sister to the couch of her brother. + +This duty performed, though with an unwillingness that only could make +his former anxiety more perplexing, Dunwoodie proceeded to the field +where his troops had halted. The remnant of the English were already to +be seen, over the tops of the trees, marching along the heights towards +their boats, in compact order and with great watchfulness. The +detachment of the dragoons under Lawton were a short distance on their +flank, eagerly awaiting a favorable moment to strike a blow. In this +manner both parties were soon lost to view. + +A short distance above the Locusts was a small hamlet where several +roads intersected each other, and from which, consequently, access to +the surrounding country was easy. It was a favorite halting place of +the horse, and frequently held by the light parties of the American +army during their excursions below. Dunwoodie had been the first to +discover its advantages, and as it was necessary for him to remain in +the county until further orders from above, it cannot be supposed he +overlooked them now. To this place the troops were directed to retire, +carrying with them their wounded; parties were already employed in the +sad duty of interring the dead. In making these arrangements, a new +object of embarrassment presented itself to our young soldier. In +moving through the field, he was struck with the appearance of Colonel +Wellmere, seated by himself, brooding over his misfortunes, +uninterrupted by anything but the passing civilities of the American +officers. His anxiety on behalf of Singleton had hitherto banished the +recollection of his captive from the mind of Dunwoodie, and he now +approached him with apologies for his neglect. The Englishman received +his courtesies with coolness, and complained of being injured by what +he affected to think was the accidental stumbling of his horse. +Dunwoodie, who had seen one of his own men ride him down, and that with +very little ceremony, slightly smiled, as he offered him surgical +assistance. This could only be procured at the cottage, and thither +they both proceeded. + +“Colonel Wellmere!” cried young Wharton in astonishment as they +entered, “has the fortune of war been thus cruel to you also? But you +are welcome to the house of my father, although I could wish the +introduction to have taken place under more happy circumstances.” + +Mr. Wharton received this new guest with the guarded caution that +distinguished his manner, and Dunwoodie left the room to seek the +bedside of his friend. Everything here looked propitious, and he +acquainted the surgeon that another patient waited his skill in the +room below. The sound of the word was enough to set the doctor in +motion, and seizing his implements of office, he went in quest of this +new applicant. At the door of the parlor he was met by the ladies, who +were retiring. Miss Peyton detained him for a moment, to inquire into +the welfare of Captain Singleton. Frances smiled with something of +natural archness of manner, as she contemplated the grotesque +appearance of the bald-headed practitioner; but Sarah was too much +agitated, with the surprise of the unexpected interview with the +British colonel, to observe him. It has already been intimated that +Colonel Wellmere was an old acquaintance of the family. Sarah had been +so long absent from the city, that she had in some measure been +banished from the remembrance of the gentleman; but the recollections +of Sarah were more vivid. There is a period in the life of every woman +when she may be said to be predisposed to love; it is at the happy age +when infancy is lost in opening maturity—when the guileless heart beats +with those anticipations of life which the truth can never realize—and +when the imagination forms images of perfection that are copied after +its own unsullied visions. At this happy age Sarah left the city, and +she had brought with her a picture of futurity, faintly impressed, it +is true, but which gained durability from her solitude, and in which +Wellmere had been placed in the foreground. The surprise of the meeting +had in some measure overpowered her, and after receiving the +salutations of the colonel, she had risen, in compliance with a signal +from her observant aunt, to withdraw. + +“Then, sir,” observed Miss Peyton, after listening to the surgeon’s +account of his young patient, “we may be flattered with the expectation +that he will recover.” + +“’Tis certain, madam,” returned the doctor, endeavoring, out of respect +to the ladies, to replace his wig; “’tis certain, with care and good +nursing.” + +“In those he shall not be wanting,” said the spinster, mildly. +“Everything we have he can command, and Major Dunwoodie has dispatched +an express for his sister.” + +“His sister!” echoed the practitioner, with a meaning look. “If the +major has sent for her, she will come.” + +“Her brother’s danger would induce her, one would imagine.” + +“No doubt, madam,” continued the doctor, laconically, bowing low, and +giving room to the ladies to pass. The words and the manner were not +lost on the younger sister, in whose presence the name of Dunwoodie was +never mentioned unheeded. + +“Sir,” cried Dr. Sitgreaves, on entering the parlor, addressing himself +to the only coat of scarlet in the room, “I am advised you are in want +of my aid. God send ’tis not Captain Lawton with whom you came in +contact, in which case I may be too late.” + +“There must be some mistake, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily. “It was a +surgeon that Major Dunwoodie was to send me, and not an old woman.” + +“’Tis Dr. Sitgreaves,” said Henry Wharton, quickly, though with +difficulty suppressing a laugh. “The multitude of his engagements, +to-day, has prevented his usual attention to his attire.” + +“Your pardon, sir,” added Wellmere, very ungraciously proceeding to lay +aside his coat, and exhibit what he called a wounded arm. + +“If, sir,” said the surgeon dryly, “the degrees of Edinburgh—walking +your London hospitals—amputating some hundreds of limbs—operating on +the human frame in every shape that is warranted by the lights of +science, a clear conscience, and the commission of the Continental +Congress, can make a surgeon, I am one.” + +“Your pardon, sir,” repeated the colonel stiffly. “Captain Wharton has +accounted for my error.” + +“For which I thank Captain Wharton,” said the surgeon, proceeding +coolly to arrange his amputating instruments, with a formality that +made the colonel’s blood run cold. “Where are you hurt, sir? What! is +it then this scratch in your shoulder? In what manner might you have +received this wound, sir?” + +“From the sword of a rebel dragoon,” said the colonel, with emphasis. + +“Never. Even the gentle George Singleton would not have breathed on you +so harmlessly.” He took a piece of sticking plaster from his pocket, +and applied it to the part. “There, sir; that will answer your purpose, +and I am certain it is all that is required of me.” + +“What do you take to be my purpose, then, sir?” + +“To report yourself wounded in your dispatches,” replied the doctor, +with great steadiness; “and you may say that an old woman dressed your +hurts—for if one did not, one easily might!” + +“Very extraordinary language,” muttered the Englishman. + +Here Captain Wharton interfered; and, by explaining the mistake of +Colonel Wellmere to proceed from his irritated mind and pain of body, +he in part succeeded in mollifying the insulted practitioner, who +consented to look further into the hurts of the other. They were +chiefly bruises from his fall, to which Sitgreaves made some hasty +applications, and withdrew. + +The horse, having taken their required refreshment, prepared to fall +back to their intended position, and it became incumbent on Dunwoodie +to arrange the disposal of his prisoners. Sitgreaves he determined to +leave in the cottage of Mr. Wharton, in attendance on Captain +Singleton. Henry came to him with a request that Colonel Wellmere might +also be left behind, under his parole, until the troops marched higher +into the country. To this the major cheerfully assented; and as all the +rest of the prisoners were of the vulgar herd, they were speedily +collected, and, under the care of a strong guard, ordered to the +interior. The dragoons soon after marched; and the guides, separating +in small parties, accompanied by patrols from the horse, spread +themselves across the country, in such a manner as to make a chain of +sentinels from the waters of the Sound to those of the Hudson.[7] + +Dunwoodie had lingered in front of the cottage, after he paid his +parting compliments, with an unwillingness to return, that he thought +proceeded from his solicitude for his wounded friends. The heart which +has not become callous, soon sickens with the glory that has been +purchased with a waste of human life. Peyton Dunwoodie, left to +himself, and no longer excited by the visions which youthful ardor had +kept before him throughout the day, began to feel there were other ties +than those which bound the soldier within the rigid rules of honor. He +did not waver in his duty, yet he felt how strong was the temptation. +His blood had ceased to flow with the impulse created by the battle. +The stern expression of his eye gradually gave place to a look of +softness; and his reflections on the victory brought with them no +satisfaction that compensated for the sacrifices by which it had been +purchased. While turning his last lingering gaze on the Locusts, he +remembered only that it contained all that he most valued. The friend +of his youth was a prisoner, under circumstances that endangered both +life and honor. The gentle companion of his toils, who could throw +around the rude enjoyments of a soldier the graceful mildness of peace, +lay a bleeding victim to his success. The image of the maid who had +held, during the day, a disputed sovereignty in his bosom, again rose +to his view with a loveliness that banished her rival, glory, from his +mind. + +The last lagging trooper of the corps had already disappeared behind +the northern hill, and the major unwillingly turned his horse in the +same direction. Frances, impelled by a restless inquietude, now timidly +ventured on the piazza of the cottage. The day had been mild and clear, +and the sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky. The tumult, which +so lately disturbed the valley, was succeeded by the stillness of +death, and the fair scene before her looked as if it had never been +marred by the passions of men. One solitary cloud, the collected smoke +of the contest, hung over the field; and this was gradually dispersing, +leaving no vestige of the conflict above the peaceful graves of its +victims. All the conflicting feelings, all the tumultuous circumstances +of the eventful day, appeared like the deceptions of a troubled vision. +Frances turned, and caught a glimpse of the retreating figure of him +who had been so conspicuous an actor in the scene, and the illusion +vanished. She recognized her lover, and, with the truth, came other +recollections that drove her to the room, with a heart as sad as that +which Dunwoodie himself bore from the valley. + + [7] The scene of this tale is between these two waters, which are but + a few miles from each other. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +A moment gazed adown the dale, +A moment snuffed the tainted gale, +A moment listened to the cry, +That thickened as the chase drew nigh; +Then, as the headmost foe appeared, +With one brave bound the copse he cleared, +And, stretching forward free and far, +Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. + + +—_Lady of the Lake._ + + +The party under Captain Lawton had watched the retiring foe to his +boats with the most unremitting vigilance, without finding any fit +opening for a charge. The experienced successor of Colonel Wellmere +knew too well the power of his enemy to leave the uneven surface of the +heights, until compelled to descend to the level of the water. Before +he attempted this hazardous movement, he threw his men into a compact +square, with its outer edges bristling with bayonets. In this position, +the impatient trooper well understood that brave men could never be +assailed by cavalry with success, and he was reluctantly obliged to +hover near them, without seeing any opportunity of stopping their slow +but steady march to the beach. A small schooner, which had been their +convoy from the city, lay with her guns bearing on the place of +embarkation. Against this combination of force and discipline, Lawton +had sufficient prudence to see it would be folly to contend, and the +English were suffered to embark without molestation. The dragoons +lingered on the shore till the last moment, and then they reluctantly +commenced their own retreat back to the main body of the corps. + +The gathering mists of the evening had begun to darken the valley, as +the detachment of Lawton made its reappearance, at its southern +extremity. The march of the troops was slow, and their line extended +for the benefit of ease. In the front rode the captain, side by side +with his senior subaltern, apparently engaged in close conference, +while the rear was brought up by a young cornet, humming an air, and +thinking of the sweets of a straw bed after the fatigues of a hard +day’s duty. + +“Then it struck you too?” said the captain. “The instant I placed my +eyes on her I remembered the face; it is one not easily forgotten. By +my faith, Tom, the girl does no discredit to the major’s taste.” + +“She would do honor to the corps,” replied the lieutenant, with some +warmth. “Those blue eyes might easily win a man to gentler employments +than this trade of ours. In sober truth, I can easily imagine such a +girl might tempt even me to quit the broadsword and saddle, for a +darning-needle and pillion.” + +“Mutiny, sir, mutiny,” cried the other, laughing. “What, you, Tom +Mason, dare to rival the gay, admired, and withal rich, Major Dunwoodie +in his love! You, a lieutenant of cavalry, with but one horse, and he +none of the best! whose captain is as tough as a pepperidge log, and +has as many lives as a cat!” + +“Faith,” said the subaltern, smiling in his turn, “the log may yet be +split, and grimalkin lose his lives, if you often charge as madly as +you did this morning. What think you of many raps from such a beetle as +laid you on your back to-day?” + +“Ah! don’t mention it, my good Tom; the thought makes my head ache,” +replied the other, shrugging up his shoulders. “It is what I call +forestalling night.” + +“The night of death?” + +“No, sir, the night that follows day. I saw myriads of stars, things +which should hide their faces in the presence of the lordly sun. I do +think nothing but this thick cap saved me for your comfort a little +longer, maugre the cat’s lives.” + +“I have much reason to be obliged to the cap,” said Mason dryly. “That +or the skull must have had a reasonable portion of thickness, I admit.” + +“Come, come, Tom, you are a licensed joker, so I’ll not feign anger +with you,” returned the captain, good-humoredly. “But Singleton’s +lieutenant, I am fearful, will fare better than yourself for this day’s +service.” + +“I believe both of us will be spared the pain of receiving promotion +purchased by the death of a comrade and friend,” observed Mason kindly. +“It was reported that Sitgreaves said he would live.” + +“From my soul I hope so,” exclaimed Lawton. “For a beardless face, that +boy carries the stoutest heart I have ever met with. It surprises me, +however, that as we both fell at the same instant, the men behaved so +well.” + +“For the compliment, I might thank you,” cried the lieutenant with a +laugh; “but modesty forbids. I did my best to stop them, but without +success.” + +“Stop them!” roared the captain. “Would you stop men in the middle of a +charge?” + +“I thought they were going the wrong way,” answered the subaltern. + +“Ah! our fall drove them to the right about?” + +“It was either your fall, or apprehensions of their own; until the +major rallied us, we were in admirable disorder.” + +“Dunwoodie! the major was on the crupper of the Dutchman.” + +“Ah! but he managed to get off the crupper of the Dutchman. He came in, +at half speed, with the other two troops, and riding between us and the +enemy, with that imperative way he has when roused, brought us in line +in the twinkling of an eye. Then it was,” added the lieutenant, with +animation, “that we sent John Bull to the bushes. Oh! it was a sweet +charge—heads and tails, until we were upon them.” + +“The devil! What a sight I missed!” + +“You slept through it all.” + +“Yes,” returned the other, with a sigh; “it was all lost to me and poor +George Singleton. But, Tom, what will George’s sister say to this +fair-haired maiden, in yonder white building?” + +“Hang herself in her garters,” said the subaltern. “I owe a proper +respect to my superiors, but two such angels are more than justly falls +to the share of one man, unless he be a Turk or a Hindoo.” + +“Yes, yes,” said the captain, quickly, “the major is ever preaching +morality to the youngsters, but he is a sly fellow in the main. Do you +observe how fond he is of the cross roads above this valley? Now, if I +were to halt the troops twice in the same place, you would all swear +there was a petticoat in the wind.” + +“You are well known to the corps.” + +“Well, Tom, a slanderous propensity is incurable—but,” stretching +forward his body in the direction he was gazing, as if to aid him in +distinguishing objects through the darkness, “what animal is moving +through the field on our right?” + +“’Tis a man,” said Mason, looking intently at the suspicious object. + +“By his hump ’tis a dromedary!” added the captain, eying it keenly. +Wheeling his horse suddenly from the highway he exclaimed, “Harvey +Birch!—take him, dead or alive!” + +Mason and a few of the leading dragoons only understood the sudden cry, +but it was heard throughout the line. A dozen of the men, with the +lieutenant at their head, followed the impetuous Lawton, and their +speed threatened the pursued with a sudden termination of the race. + +Birch prudently kept his position on the rock, where he had been seen +by the passing glance of Henry Wharton, until evening had begun to +shroud the surrounding objects in darkness. From this height he had +seen all the events of the day, as they occurred. He had watched with a +beating heart the departure of the troops under Dunwoodie, and with +difficulty had curbed his impatience until the obscurity of night +should render his moving free from danger. He had not, however, +completed a fourth of his way to his own residence, when his quick ear +distinguished the tread of the approaching horse. Trusting to the +increasing darkness, he determined to persevere. By crouching and +moving quickly along the surface of the ground, he hoped yet to escape +unseen. Captain Lawton was too much engrossed with the foregoing +conversation to suffer his eyes to indulge in their usual wandering; +and the peddler, perceiving by the voices that the enemy he most feared +had passed, yielded to his impatience, and stood erect, in order to +make greater progress. The moment his body arose above the shadow of +the ground, it was seen, and the chase commenced. For a single instant, +Birch was helpless, his blood curdling in his veins at the imminence of +the danger, and his legs refusing their natural and necessary office. +But it was only for a moment. Casting his pack where he stood, and +instinctively tightening the belt he wore, the peddler betook himself +to flight. He knew that by bringing himself in a line with his pursuers +and the wood, his form would be lost to sight. This he soon effected, +and he was straining every nerve to gain the wood itself, when several +horsemen rode by him but a short distance on his left, and cut him off +from this place of refuge. The peddler threw himself on the ground as +they came near him, and was passed unseen. But delay now became too +dangerous for him to remain in that position. He accordingly rose, and +still keeping in the shadow of the wood, along the skirts of which he +heard voices crying to each other to be watchful, he ran with +incredible speed in a parallel line, but in an opposite direction, to +the march of the dragoons. + +The confusion of the chase had been heard by the whole of the men, +though none distinctly understood the order of Lawton but those who +followed. The remainder were lost in doubt as to the duty that was +required of them; and the aforesaid cornet was making eager inquiries +of the trooper near him on the subject, when a man, at a short distance +in his rear, crossed the road at a single bound. At the same instant, +the stentorian voice of Lawton rang through the valley, shouting,— + +“Harvey Birch—take him, dead or alive!” + +Fifty pistols lighted the scene, and the bullets whistled in every +direction round the head of the devoted peddler. A feeling of despair +seized his heart, and in the bitterness of that moment he exclaimed,— + +“Hunted like a beast of the forest!” + +He felt life and its accompaniments to be a burden, and was about to +yield himself to his enemies. Nature, however, prevailed. If taken, +there was great reason to apprehend that he would not be honored with +the forms of a trial, but that most probably the morning sun would +witness his ignominious execution; for he had already been condemned to +death, and had only escaped that fate by stratagem. These +considerations, with the approaching footsteps of his pursuers, roused +him to new exertions. He again fled before them. A fragment of a wall, +that had withstood the ravages made by war in the adjoining fences of +wood, fortunately crossed his path. He hardly had time to throw his +exhausted limbs over this barrier, before twenty of his enemies reached +its opposite side. Their horses refused to take the leap in the dark, +and amid the confusion of the rearing chargers, and the execrations of +their riders, Birch was enabled to gain a sight of the base of the +hill, on whose summit was a place of perfect security. The heart of the +peddler now beat high with hope, when the voice of Captain Lawton again +rang in his ears, shouting to his men to make room. The order was +obeyed, and the fearless trooper rode at the wall at the top of his +horse’s speed, plunged the rowels in his charger, and flew over the +obstacle in safety. The triumphant hurrahs of the men, and the +thundering tread of the horse, too plainly assured the peddler of the +emergency of his danger. He was nearly exhausted, and his fate no +longer seemed doubtful. + +“Stop, or die!” was uttered above his head, and in fearful proximity to +his ears. + +Harvey stole a glance over his shoulder, and saw, within a bound of +him, the man he most dreaded. By the light of the stars he beheld the +uplifted arm and the threatening saber. Fear, exhaustion, and despair +seized his heart, and the intended victim fell at the feet of the +dragoon. The horse of Lawton struck the prostrate peddler, and both +steed and rider came violently to the earth. + +As quick as thought, Birch was on his feet again, with the sword of the +discomfited dragoon in his hand. Vengeance seems but too natural to +human passions. There are few who have not felt the seductive pleasure +of making our injuries recoil on their authors; and yet there are some +who know how much sweeter it is to return good for evil. + +All the wrongs of the peddler shone on his brain with a dazzling +brightness. For a moment the demon within him prevailed, and Birch +brandished the powerful weapon in the air; in the next, it fell +harmless on the reviving but helpless trooper. The peddler vanished up +the side of the friendly rock. + +“Help Captain Lawton, there!” cried Mason, as he rode up, followed by a +dozen of his men; “and some of you dismount with me, and search these +rocks; the villain lies here concealed.” + +“Hold!” roared the discomfited captain, raising himself with difficulty +on his feet. “If one of you dismount, he dies. Tom, my good fellow, you +will help me to straddle Roanoke again.” + +The astonished subaltern complied in silence, while the wondering +dragoons remained as fixed in their saddles, as if they composed part +of the animals they rode. + +“You are much hurt, I fear,” said Mason, with something of condolence +in his manner, as they reentered the highway, biting off the end of a +cigar for the want of a better quality of tobacco. + +“Something so, I do believe,” replied the captain, catching his breath, +and speaking with difficulty. “I wish our bonesetter was at hand, to +examine into the state of my ribs.” + +“Sitgreaves is left in attendance on Captain Singleton, at the house of +Mr. Wharton.” + +“Then there I halt for the night, Tom. These rude times must abridge +ceremony; besides, you may remember the old gentleman professed a +kinsman’s regard for the corps. I can never think of passing so good a +friend without a halt.” + +“And I will lead the troop to the Four Corners; if we all halt there, +we shall breed a famine in the land.” + +“A condition I never desire to be placed in. The idea of that graceful +spinster’s cakes is no bad solace for twenty-four hours in the +hospital.” + +“Oh! you won’t die if you can think of eating,” said Mason, with a +laugh. + +“I should surely die if I could not,” observed the captain, gravely. + +“Captain Lawton,” said the orderly of his troop, riding to the side of +his commanding officer, “we are now passing the house of the peddler +spy; is it your pleasure that we burn it?” + +“No!” roared the captain, in a voice that startled the disappointed +sergeant. “Are you an incendiary? Would you burn a house in cold blood? +Let but a spark approach, and the hand that carries it will never light +another.” + +“Zounds!” muttered the sleepy cornet in the rear, as he was nodding on +his horse, “there is life in the captain, notwithstanding his tumble.” + +Lawton and Mason rode on in silence, the latter ruminating on the +wonderful change produced in his commander by his fall, when they +arrived opposite to the gate before the residence of Mr. Wharton. The +troop continued its march; but the captain and his lieutenant +dismounted, and, followed by the servant of the former, they proceeded +slowly to the door of the cottage. + +Colonel Wellmere had already sought a retreat in his own room; Mr. +Wharton and his son were closeted by themselves; and the ladies were +administering the refreshments of the tea table to the surgeon of the +dragoons, who had seen one of his patients in his bed, and the other +happily enjoying the comforts of a sweet sleep. A few natural inquiries +from Miss Peyton had opened the soul of the doctor, who knew every +individual of her extensive family connection in Virginia, and who even +thought it possible that he had seen the lady herself. The amiable +spinster smiled as she felt it to be improbable that she should ever +have met her new acquaintance before, and not remember his +singularities. It however greatly relieved the embarrassment of their +situation, and something like a discourse was maintained between them; +the nieces were only listeners, nor could the aunt be said to be much +more. + +“As I was observing, Miss Peyton, it was merely the noxious vapors of +the lowlands that rendered the plantation of your brother an unfit +residence for man; but quadrupeds were—” + +“Bless me, what’s that?” said Miss Peyton, turning pale at the report +of the pistols fired at Birch. + +“It sounds prodigiously like the concussion on the atmosphere made by +the explosion of firearms,” said the surgeon, sipping his tea with +great indifference. “I should imagine it to be the troop of Captain +Lawton returning, did I not know the captain never uses the pistol, and +that he dreadfully abuses the saber.” + +“Merciful providence!” exclaimed the agitated maiden, “he would not +injure one with it, certainly.” + +“Injure!” repeated the other quickly. “It is certain death, madam; the +most random blows imaginable; all that I can say to him will have no +effect.” + +“But Captain Lawton is the officer we saw this morning, and is surely +your friend,” said Frances, hastily, observing her aunt to be seriously +alarmed. + +“I find no fault with his want of friendship; the man is well enough if +he would learn to cut scientifically. All trades, madam, ought to be +allowed to live; but what is to become of a surgeon, if his patients +are dead before he sees them!” + +The doctor continued haranguing on the probability and improbability of +its being the returning troop, until a loud knock at the door gave new +alarm to the ladies. Instinctively laying his hand on a small saw, that +had been his companion for the whole day, in the vain expectation of an +amputation, the surgeon, coolly assuring the ladies that he would stand +between them and danger, proceeded in person to answer the summons. + +“Captain Lawton!” exclaimed the surgeon, as he beheld the trooper +leaning on the arm of his subaltern, and with difficulty crossing the +threshold. + +“Ah! my dear bonesetter, is it you? You are here very fortunately to +inspect my carcass; but do lay aside that rascally saw!” + +A few words from Mason explained the nature and manner of his captain’s +hurts, and Miss Peyton cheerfully accorded the required accommodations. +While the room intended for the trooper was getting ready, and the +doctor was giving certain portentous orders, the captain was invited to +rest himself in the parlor. On the table was a dish of more substantial +food than ordinarily adorned the afternoon’s repast, and it soon caught +the attention of the dragoons. Miss Peyton, recollecting that they had +probably made their only meal that day at her own table, kindly invited +them to close it with another. The offer required no pressing, and in a +few minutes the two were comfortably seated, and engaged in an +employment that was only interrupted by an occasional wry face from the +captain, who moved his body in evident pain. These interruptions, +however, interfered but little with the principal business in hand; and +the captain had got happily through with this important duty, before +the surgeon returned to announce all things ready for his accommodation +in the room above stairs. + +“Eating!” cried the astonished physician. “Captain Lawton, do you wish +to die?” + +“I have no particular ambition that way,” said the trooper, rising, and +bowing good night to the ladies, “and, therefore, have been providing +materials necessary to preserve life.” + +The surgeon muttered his dissatisfaction, while he followed Mason and +the captain from the apartment. + +Every house in America had, at that day, what was emphatically called +its best room, and this had been allotted, by the unseen influence of +Sarah, to Colonel Wellmere. The down counterpane, which a clear frosty +night would render extremely grateful over bruised limbs, decked the +English officer’s bed. A massive silver tankard, richly embossed with +the Wharton arms, held the beverage he was to drink during the night; +while beautiful vessels of china performed the same office for the two +American captains. Sarah was certainly unconscious of the silent +preference she had been giving to the English officer; and it is +equally certain, that but for his hurts, bed, tankard, and everything +but the beverage would have been matters of indifference to Captain +Lawton, half of whose nights were spent in his clothes, and not a few +of them in the saddle. After taking possession, however, of a small but +very comfortable room, Doctor Sitgreaves proceeded to inquire into the +state of his injuries. He had begun to pass his hand over the body of +his patient, when the latter cried impatiently,— + +“Sitgreaves, do me the favor to lay that rascally saw aside, or I shall +have recourse to my saber in self-defense; the sight of it makes my +blood cold.” + +“Captain Lawton, for a man who has so often exposed life and limb, you +are unaccountably afraid of a very useful instrument.” + +“Heaven keep me from its use,” said the trooper, with a shrug. + +“You would not despise the lights of science, nor refuse surgical aid, +because this saw might be necessary?” + +“I would.” + +“You would!” + +“Yes; you shall never joint me like a quarter of beef, while I have +life to defend myself,” cried the resolute dragoon. “But I grow sleepy; +are any of my ribs broken?” + +“No.” + +“Any of my bones?” + +“No.” + +“Tom, I’ll thank you for that pitcher.” As he ended his draft, he very +deliberately turned his back on his companions, and good-naturedly +cried, “Good night, Mason; good night, Galen.” + +Captain Lawton entertained a profound respect for the surgical +abilities of his comrade, but he was very skeptical on the subject of +administering internally for the ailings of the human frame. With a +full stomach, a stout heart, and a clear conscience, he often +maintained that a man might bid defiance to the world and its +vicissitudes. Nature provided him with the second, and, to say the +truth, he strove manfully himself to keep up the other two requisites +in his creed. It was a favorite maxim with him, that the last thing +death assailed was the eyes, and next to the last, the jaws. This he +interpreted to be a clear expression of the intention of nature, that +every man might regulate, by his own volition, whatever was to be +admitted into the sanctuary of his mouth; consequently, if the guest +proved unpalatable, he had no one to blame but himself. The surgeon, +who was well acquainted with these views of his patient, beheld him, as +he cavalierly turned his back on Mason and himself, with a +commiserating contempt, replaced in their leathern repository the +phials he had exhibited, with a species of care that was allied to +veneration, gave the saw, as he concluded, a whirl of triumph, and +departed, without condescending to notice the compliment of the +trooper. Mason, finding, by the breathing of the captain, that his own +good night would be unheard, hastened to pay his respects to the +ladies—after which he mounted and followed the troop at the top of his +horse’s speed. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +On some fond breast the parting soul relies, +Some pious drops the closing eye requires, +E’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, +E’en in our ashes live their wonted fires. + + +—GRAY. + + +The possessions of Mr. Wharton extended to some distance on each side +of the house in which he dwelt, and most of his land was unoccupied. A +few scattered dwellings were to be seen in different parts of his +domains, but they were fast falling to decay, and were untenanted. The +proximity of the country to the contending armies had nearly banished +the pursuits of agriculture from the land. It was useless for the +husbandman to devote his time and the labor of his hands, to obtain +overflowing garners, that the first foraging party would empty. None +tilled the earth with any other view than to provide the scanty means +of subsistence, except those who were placed so near to one of the +adverse parties as to be safe from the inroads of the light troops of +the other. To these the war offered a golden harvest, more especially +to such as enjoyed the benefits of an access to the royal army. Mr. +Wharton did not require the use of his lands for the purposes of +subsistence; and he willingly adopted the guarded practice of the day, +limiting his attention to such articles as were soon to be consumed +within his own walls, or could be easily secreted from the prying eyes +of the foragers. In consequence, the ground on which the action was +fought had not a single inhabited building, besides the one belonging +to the father of Harvey Birch. This house stood between the place where +the cavalry had met, and that where the charge had been made on the +party of Wellmere. + +To Katy Haynes it had been a day fruitful of incidents. The prudent +housekeeper had kept her political feelings in a state of rigid +neutrality; her own friends had espoused the cause of the country, but +the maiden herself never lost sight of that important moment, when, +like females of more illustrious hopes, she might be required to +sacrifice her love of country on the altar of domestic harmony. And +yet, notwithstanding all her sagacity, there were moments when the good +woman had grievous doubts into which scale she ought to throw the +weight of her eloquence, in order to be certain of supporting the cause +favored by the peddler. There was so much that was equivocal in his +movements and manner, that often, when, in the privacy of their +household, she was about to offer a philippic on Washington and his +followers, discretion sealed her mouth, and distrust beset her mind. In +short, the whole conduct of the mysterious being she studied was of a +character to distract the opinions of one who took a more enlarged view +of men and life than came within the competency of his housekeeper. + +The battle of the Plains had taught the cautious Washington the +advantages his enemy possessed in organization, arms, and discipline. +These were difficulties to be mastered by his own vigilance and care. +Drawing off his troops to the heights, in the northern part of the +county, he had bidden defiance to the attacks of the royal army, and +Sir William Howe fell back to the enjoyment of his barren conquest—a +deserted city. Never afterwards did the opposing armies make the trial +of strength within the limits of Westchester; yet hardly a day passed, +that the partisans did not make their inroads; or a sun rise, that the +inhabitants were spared the relation of excesses which the preceding +darkness had served to conceal. Most of the movements of the peddler +were made at the hours which others allotted to repose. The evening sun +would frequently leave him at one extremity of the county, and the +morning find him at the other. His pack was his never-failing +companion; and there were those who closely studied him, in his moments +of traffic, and thought his only purpose was the accumulation of gold. +He would be often seen near the Highlands, with a body bending under +its load; and again near the Harlem River, traveling with lighter +steps, with his face towards the setting sun. But these glances at him +were uncertain and fleeting. The intermediate time no eye could +penetrate. For months he disappeared, and no traces of his course were +ever known. + +Strong parties held the heights of Harlem, and the northern end of +Manhattan Island was bristling with the bayonets of the English +sentinels, yet the peddler glided among them unnoticed and uninjured. +His approaches to the American lines were also frequent; but generally +so conducted as to baffle pursuit. Many a sentinel, placed in the +gorges of the mountains, spoke of a strange figure that had been seen +gliding by them in the mists of the evening. These stories reached the +ears of the officers, and, as we have related, in two instances the +trader had fallen into the hands of the Americans. The first time he +had escaped from Lawton, shortly after his arrest; but the second he +was condemned to die. On the morning of his intended execution, the +cage was opened, but the bird had flown. This extraordinary escape had +been made from the custody of a favorite officer of Washington, and +sentinels who had been thought worthy to guard the person of the +commander in chief. Bribery and treason could not be imputed to men so +well esteemed, and the opinion gained ground among the common soldiery, +that the peddler had dealings with the dark one. Katy, however, always +repelled this opinion with indignation; for within the recesses of her +own bosom, the housekeeper, in ruminating on the events, concluded that +the evil spirit did not pay in gold. Nor, continued the wary spinster +in her cogitations, does Washington; paper and promises were all that +the leader of the American troops could dispense to his servants. After +the alliance with France, when silver became more abundant in the +country, although the scrutinizing eyes of Katy never let any +opportunity of examining into the deerskin purse pass unimproved, she +was never able to detect the image of Louis intruding into the presence +of the well-known countenance of George III. In short, the secret hoard +of Harvey sufficiently showed in its contents that all its +contributions had been received from the British. + +The house of Birch had been watched at different times by the +Americans, with a view to his arrest, but never with success; the +reputed spy possessing a secret means of intelligence, that invariably +defeated their schemes. Once, when a strong body of the continental +army held the Four Corners for a whole summer, orders had been received +from Washington himself, never to leave the door of Harvey Birch +unwatched. The command was rigidly obeyed, and during this long period +the peddler was unseen; the detachment was withdrawn, and the following +night Birch reentered his dwelling. The father of Harvey had been +greatly molested, in consequence of the suspicious character of the +son. But, notwithstanding the most minute scrutiny into the conduct of +the old man, no fact could be substantiated against him to his injury, +and his property was too small to keep alive the zeal of patriots by +profession. Its confiscation and purchase would not have rewarded their +trouble. Age and sorrow were now about to spare him further +molestation, for the lamp of life had been drained of its oil. The +recent separation of the father and son had been painful, but they had +submitted in obedience to what both thought a duty. The old man had +kept his dying situation a secret from the neighborhood, in the hope +that he might still have the company of his child in his last moments. +The confusion of the day, and his increasing dread that Harvey might be +too late, helped to hasten the event he would fain arrest for a little +while. As night set in, his illness increased to such a degree, that +the dismayed housekeeper sent a truant boy, who had shut up himself +with them during the combat, to the Locusts, in quest of a companion to +cheer her solitude. Caesar, alone, could be spared, and, loaded with +eatables and cordials by the kind-hearted Miss Peyton, the black had +been dispatched on his duty. The dying man was past the use of +medicines, and his chief anxiety seemed to center in a meeting with his +child. The noise of the chase had been heard by the group in the house, +but its cause was not understood; and as both the black and Katy were +apprised of the detachment of American horse being below them, they +supposed it to proceed from the return of that party. They heard the +dragoons, as they moved slowly by the building; but in compliance with +the prudent injunction of the black, the housekeeper forbore to indulge +her curiosity. The old man had closed his eyes, and his attendants +believed him to be asleep. The house contained two large rooms and as +many small ones. One of the former served for kitchen and sitting room; +in the other lay the father of Birch; of the latter, one was the +sanctuary of the vestal, and the other contained the stock of +provisions. A huge chimney of stone rose in the center, serving, of +itself, for a partition between the larger rooms; and fireplaces of +corresponding dimensions were in each apartment. A bright flame was +burning in that of the common room, and within the very jambs of its +monstrous jaws sat Caesar and Katy, at the time of which we write. The +African was impressing his caution on the housekeeper, and commenting +on the general danger of indulging an idle curiosity. + +“Best nebber tempt a Satan,” said Caesar, rolling up his eyes till the +whites glistened by the glare of the fire. “I berry like heself to lose +an ear for carrying a little bit of a letter; dere much mischief come +of curiosity. If dere had nebber been a man curious to see Africa, dere +would be no color people out of dere own country; but I wish Harvey get +back.” + +“It is very disregardful in him to be away at such a time,” said Katy, +imposingly. “Suppose now his father wanted to make his last will in the +testament, who is there to do so solemn and awful an act for him? +Harvey is a very wasteful and very disregardful man!” + +“Perhap he make him afore?” + +“It would not be a wonderment if he had,” returned the housekeeper; “he +is whole days looking into the Bible.” + +“Then he read a berry good book,” said the black solemnly. “Miss Fanny +read in him to Dinah now and den.” + +“You are right, Caesar. The Bible is the best of books, and one that +reads it as often as Harvey’s father should have the best of reasons +for so doing. This is no more than common sense.” + +She rose from her seat, and stealing softly to a chest of drawers in +the room of the sick man, she took from it a large Bible, heavily +bound, and secured with strong clasps of brass, with which she returned +to the negro. The volume was eagerly opened, and they proceeded +instantly to examine its pages. Katy was far from an expert scholar, +and to Caesar the characters were absolutely strangers. For some time +the housekeeper was occupied in finding out the word Matthew, in which +she had no sooner succeeded than she pointed out the word, with great +complacency, to the attentive Caesar. + +“Berry well, now look him t’rough,” said the black, peeping over the +housekeeper’s shoulder, as he held a long lank candle of yellow tallow, +in such a manner as to throw its feeble light on the volume. + +“Yes, but I must begin with the very beginning of the book,” replied +the other, turning the leaves carefully back, until, moving two at +once, she lighted upon a page covered with writing. “Here,” said the +housekeeper, shaking with the eagerness of expectation, “here are the +very words themselves; now I would give the world itself to know whom +he has left the big silver shoe buckles to.” + +“Read ’em,” said Caesar, laconically. + +“And the black walnut drawers; for Harvey could never want furniture of +that quality, as long as he is a bachelor!” + +“Why he no want ’em as well as he fader?” + +“And the six silver tablespoons; Harvey always uses the iron!” + +“P’r’ap he say, without so much talk,” returned the sententious black, +pointing one of his crooked and dingy fingers at the open volume. + +Thus repeatedly advised, and impelled by her own curiosity, Katy began +to read. Anxious to come to the part which most interested herself, she +dipped at once into the center of the subject. + +“_Chester Birch, born September 1st, 1755,_”—read the spinster, with a +deliberation that did no great honor to her scholarship. + +“Well, what he gib him?” + +“_Abigail Birch, born July 12th, 1757,_” continued the housekeeper, in +the same tone. + +“I t’ink he ought to gib her ’e spoon.” + +“_June 1st, 1760. On this awful day, the judgment of an offended God +lighted on my house._” A heavy groan from the adjoining room made the +spinster instinctively close the volume, and Caesar, for a moment, +shook with fear. Neither possessed sufficient resolution to go and +examine the condition of the sufferer, but his heavy breathing +continued as usual. Katy dared not, however, reopen the Bible, and +carefully securing its clasps, it was laid on the table in silence. +Caesar took his chair again, and after looking timidly round the room, +remarked,— + +“I t’ought he time war’ come!” + +“No,” said Katy, solemnly, “he will live till the tide is out, or the +first cock crows in the morning.” + +“Poor man!” continued the black, nestling still farther into the +chimney corner, “I hope he lay quiet after he die.” + +“’Twould be no astonishment to me if he didn’t; for they say an unquiet +life makes an uneasy grave.” + +“Johnny Birch a berry good man in he way. All mankind can’t be a +minister; for if he do, who would be a congregation?” + +“Ah! Caesar, he is good only who does good. Can you tell me why +honestly gotten gold should be hidden in the bowels of the earth?” + +“Grach!—I t’ink it must be to keep t’e Skinner from findin’ him; if he +know where he be, why don’t he dig him up?” + +“There may be reasons not comprehensible to you,” said Katy, moving her +chair so that her clothes covered the charmed stone, underneath which +lay the secret treasures of the peddler, unable to refrain from +speaking of what she would have been very unwilling to reveal; “but a +rough outside often holds a smooth inside.” Caesar stared around the +building, unable to fathom the hidden meaning of his companion, when +his roving eyes suddenly became fixed, and his teeth chattered with +affright. The change in the countenance of the black was instantly +perceived by Katy, and turning her face, she saw the peddler himself, +standing within the door of the room. + +“Is he alive?” asked Birch, tremulously, and seemingly afraid to +receive the answer. + +“Surely,” said Katy, rising hastily, and officiously offering her +chair. +“He must live till day, or till the tide is down.” + +Disregarding all but the fact that his father still lived, the peddler +stole gently into the room of his dying parent. The tie which bound the +father and son was of no ordinary kind. In the wide world they were all +to each other. Had Katy but read a few lines further in the record, she +would have seen the sad tale of their misfortunes. At one blow +competence and kindred had been swept from them, and from that day to +the present hour, persecution and distress had followed their wandering +steps. Approaching the bedside, Harvey leaned his body forward, and, in +a voice nearly choked by his feelings, he whispered near the ear of the +sick,— + +“Father, do you know me?” + +The parent slowly opened his eyes, and a smile of satisfaction passed +over his pallid features, leaving behind it the impression of death, +more awful by the contrast. The peddler gave a restorative he had +brought with him to the parched lips of the sick man, and for a few +minutes new vigor seemed imparted to his frame. He spoke, but slowly, +and with difficulty. Curiosity kept Katy silent; awe had the same +effect on Caesar; and Harvey seemed hardly to breathe, as he listened +to the language of the departing spirit. + +“My son,” said the father in a hollow voice, “God is as merciful as He +is just; if I threw the cup of salvation from my lips when a youth, He +graciously offers it to me in mine age. He has chastised to purify, and +I go to join the spirits of our lost family. In a little while, my +child, you will be alone. I know you too well not to foresee you will +be a pilgrim through life. The bruised reed may endure, but it will +never rise. You have that within you, Harvey, that will guide you +aright; persevere as you have begun, for the duties of life are never +to be neglected and”—a noise in the adjoining room interrupted the +dying man, and the impatient peddler hastened to learn the cause, +followed by Katy and the black. The first glance of his eye on the +figure in the doorway told the trader but too well his errand, and the +fate that probably awaited himself. The intruder was a man still young +in years, but his lineaments bespoke a mind long agitated by evil +passions. His dress was of the meanest materials, and so ragged and +unseemly, as to give him the appearance of studied poverty. His hair +was prematurely whitened, and his sunken, lowering eye avoided the +bold, forward look of innocence. There was a restlessness in his +movements, and an agitation in his manner, that proceeded from the +workings of the foul spirit within him, and which was not less +offensive to others than distressing to himself. This man was a +well-known leader of one of those gangs of marauders who infested the +county with a semblance of patriotism, and who were guilty of every +grade of offense, from simple theft up to murder. Behind him stood +several other figures clad in a similar manner, but whose countenances +expressed nothing more than the indifference of brutal insensibility. +They were well armed with muskets and bayonets, and provided with the +usual implements of foot soldiers. Harvey knew resistance to be vain, +and quietly submitted to their directions. In the twinkling of an eye +both he and Caesar were stripped of their decent garments, and made to +exchange clothes with two of the filthiest of the band. They were then +placed in separate corners of the room, and, under the muzzles of the +muskets, required faithfully to answer such interrogatories as were put +to them. + +“Where is your pack?” was the first question to the peddler. + +“Hear me,” said Birch, trembling with agitation; “in the next room is +my father, now in the agonies of death. Let me go to him, receive his +blessing, and close his eyes, and you shall have all—aye, all.” + +“Answer me as I put the questions, or this musket shall send you to +keep the old driveler company: where is your pack?” + +“I will tell you nothing, unless you let me go to my father,” said the +peddler, resolutely. + +His persecutor raised his arm with a malicious sneer, and was about to +execute his threat, when one of his companions checked him. + +“What would you do?” he said. “You surely forget the reward. Tell us +where are your goods, and you shall go to your father.” + +Birch complied instantly, and a man was dispatched in quest of the +booty; he soon returned, throwing the bundle on the floor, swearing it +was as light as feathers. + +“Aye,” cried the leader, “there must be gold somewhere for what it did +contain. Give us your gold, Mr. Birch; we know you have it; you will +not take continental, not you.” + +“You break your faith,” said Harvey. + +“Give us your gold,” exclaimed the other, furiously, pricking the +peddler with his bayonet until the blood followed his pushes in +streams. +At this instant a slight movement was heard in the adjoining room, and +Harvey cried,— + +“Let me—let me go to my father, and you shall have all.” + +“I swear you shall go then,” said the Skinner. + +“Here, take the trash,” cried Birch, as he threw aside the purse, which +he had contrived to conceal, notwithstanding the change in his +garments. + +The robber raised it from the floor with a hellish laugh. + +“Aye, but it shall be to your father in heaven.” + +“Monster! have you no feeling, no faith, no honesty?” + +“To hear him, one would think there was not a rope around his neck +already,” said the other, laughing. “There is no necessity for your +being uneasy, Mr. Birch; if the old man gets a few hours the start of +you in the journey, you will be sure to follow him before noon +to-morrow.” + +This unfeeling communication had no effect on the peddler, who listened +with gasping breath to every sound from the room of his parent until he +heard his own name spoken in the hollow, sepulchral tones of death. +Birch could endure no more, but shrieking out,— + +“Father! hush—father! I come—I come!” he darted by his keeper and was +the next moment pinned to the wall by the bayonet of another of the +band. Fortunately, his quick motion had caused him to escape a thrust +aimed at his life, and it was by his clothes only that he was confined. + +“No, Mr. Birch,” said the Skinner, “we know you too well to trust you +out of sight—your gold, your gold!” + +“You have it,” said the peddler, writhing with agony. + +“Aye, we have the purse, but you have more purses. King George is a +prompt paymaster, and you have done him many a piece of good service. +Where is your hoard? Without it you will never see your father.” + +“Remove the stone underneath the woman,” cried the peddler, +eagerly—“remove the stone.” + +“He raves! he raves!” said Katy, instinctively moving her position to a +different stone from the one on which she had been standing. In a +moment it was torn from its bed, and nothing but earth was seen +beneath. + +“He raves! You have driven him from his right mind,” continued the +trembling spinster. “Would any man in his senses keep gold under a +hearth?” + +“Peace, babbling fool!” cried Harvey. “Lift the corner stone, and you +will find that which will make you rich, and me a beggar.” + +“And then you will be despisable,” said the housekeeper bitterly. “A +peddler without goods and without money is sure to be despisable.” + +“There will be enough left to pay for his halter,” cried the Skinner, +who was not slow to follow the instructions of Harvey, soon lighting +upon a store of English guineas. The money was quickly transferred to a +bag, notwithstanding the declarations of the spinster, that her dues +were unsatisfied, and that, of right, ten of the guineas were her +property. + +Delighted with a prize that greatly exceeded their expectations, the +band prepared to depart, intending to take the peddler with them, in +order to give him up to the American troops above, and to claim the +reward offered for his apprehension. Everything was ready, and they +were about to lift Birch in their arms, for he resolutely refused to +move an inch, when a form appeared in their midst, which appalled the +stoutest heart among them. The father had arisen from his bed, and he +tottered forth at the cries of his son. Around his body was thrown the +sheet of the bed, and his fixed eye and haggard face gave him the +appearance of a being from another world. Even Katy and Caesar thought +it was the spirit of the elder Birch, and they fled the house, followed +by the alarmed Skinners in a body. + +The excitement which had given the sick man strength, soon vanished, +and the peddler, lifting him in his arms, reconveyed him to his bed. +The reaction of the system which followed hastened to close the scene. + +The glazed eye of the father was fixed upon the son; his lips moved, +but his voice was unheard. Harvey bent down, and, with the parting +breath of his parent, received his dying benediction. A life of +privation, and of wrongs, embittered most of the future hours of the +peddler. But under no sufferings, in no misfortunes, the subject of +poverty and obloquy, the remembrance of that blessing never left him; +it constantly gleamed over the images of the past, shedding a holy +radiance around his saddest hours of despondency; it cheered the +prospect of the future with the prayers of a pious spirit; and it +brought the sweet assurance of having faithfully discharged the sacred +offices of filial love. + +The retreat of Caesar and the spinster had been too precipitate to +admit of much calculation; yet they themselves instinctively separated +from the Skinners. After fleeing a short distance they paused, and the +maiden commenced in a solemn voice,— + +“Oh! Caesar, was it not dreadful to walk before he had been laid in his +grave! It must have been the money that disturbed him; they say Captain +Kidd walks near the spot where he buried gold in the old war.” + +“I never t’ink Johnny Birch hab such a big eye!” said the African, his +teeth yet chattering with the fright. + +“I’m sure ’twould be a botherment to a living soul to lose so much +money. Harvey will be nothing but an utterly despisable, +poverty-stricken wretch. I wonder who he thinks would even be his +housekeeper!” + +“Maybe a spook take away Harvey, too,” observed Caesar, moving still +nearer to the side of the maiden. But a new idea had seized the +imagination of the spinster. She thought it not improbable that the +prize had been forsaken in the confusion of the retreat; and after +deliberating and reasoning for some time with Caesar, they determined +to venture back, and ascertain this important fact, and, if possible, +learn what had been the fate of the peddler. Much time was spent in +cautiously approaching the dreaded spot; and as the spinster had +sagaciously placed herself in the line of the retreat of the Skinners, +every stone was examined in the progress in search of abandoned gold. +But although the suddenness of the alarm and the cry of Caesar had +impelled the freebooters to so hasty a retreat, they grasped the hoard +with a hold that death itself would not have loosened. Perceiving +everything to be quiet within, Katy at length mustered resolution to +enter the dwelling, where she found the peddler, with a heavy heart, +performing the last sad offices for the dead. A few words sufficed to +explain to Katy the nature of her mistake; but Caesar continued to his +dying day to astonish the sable inmates of the kitchen with learned +dissertations on spooks, and to relate how direful was the appearance +of that of Johnny Birch. + +The danger compelled the peddler to abridge even the short period that +American custom leaves the deceased with us; and, aided by the black +and Katy, his painful task was soon ended. Caesar volunteered to walk a +couple of miles with orders to a carpenter; and, the body being habited +in its ordinary attire, was left, with a sheet thrown decently over it, +to await the return of the messenger. + +The Skinners had fled precipitately to the wood, which was but a short +distance from the house of Birch, and once safely sheltered within its +shades, they halted, and mustered their panic-stricken forces. + +“What in the name of fury seized your coward hearts?” cried their +dissatisfied leader, drawing his breath heavily. + +“The same question might be asked of yourself,” returned one of the +band, sullenly. + +“From your fright, I thought a party of De Lancey’s men were upon us. +Oh! you are brave gentlemen at a race!” + +“We follow our captain.” + +“Then follow me back, and let us secure the scoundrel, and receive the +reward.” + +“Yes; and by the time we reach the house, that black rascal will have +the mad Virginian upon us. By my soul I would rather meet fifty Cowboys +than that single man.” + +“Fool,” cried the enraged leader, “don’t you know Dunwoodie’s horse are +at the Corners, full two miles from here?” + +“I care not where the dragoons are, but I will swear that I saw Captain +Lawton enter the house of old Wharton, while I lay watching an +opportunity of getting the British colonel’s horse from the stable.” + +“And if he should come, won’t a bullet silence a dragoon from the South +as well as from old England?” + +“Aye, but I don’t choose a hornet’s nest about my ears; rase the skin +of one of that corps, and you will never see another peaceable night’s +foraging again.” + +“Well,” muttered the leader, as they retired deeper into the wood, +“this sottish peddler will stay to see the old devil buried; and though +we cannot touch him at the funeral (for that would raise every old +woman and priest in America against us), he’ll wait to look after the +movables, and to-morrow night shall wind up his concerns.” + +With this threat they withdrew to one of their usual places of resort, +until darkness should again give them an opportunity of marauding on +the community without danger of detection. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +O wo! O woful, woful, woful day! +Most lamentable day; most woful day, +That ever, ever, I did yet behold! +O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! +Never was seen so black a day as this; +O woful day! O woful day! + + +—SHAKESPEARE. + + +The family at the Locusts had slept, or watched, through all the +disturbances at the cottage of Birch, in perfect ignorance of their +occurrence. The attacks of the Skinners were always made with so much +privacy as to exclude the sufferers, not only from succor, but +frequently, through a dread of future depredations, from the +commiseration of their neighbors also. Additional duties had drawn the +ladies from their pillows at an hour somewhat earlier than usual; and +Captain Lawton, notwithstanding the sufferings of his body, had risen +in compliance with a rule from which he never departed, of sleeping but +six hours at a time. This was one of the few points, in which the care +of the human frame was involved, on which the trooper and the surgeon +of horse were ever known to agree. The doctor had watched, during the +night, by the side of the bed of Captain Singleton, without once +closing his eyes. Occasionally he would pay a visit to the wounded +Englishman, who, being more hurt in the spirit than in the flesh, +tolerated the interruptions with a very ill grace; and once, for an +instant, he ventured to steal softly to the bed of his obstinate +comrade, and was near succeeding in obtaining a touch of his pulse, +when a terrible oath, sworn by the trooper in a dream, startled the +prudent surgeon, and warned him of a trite saying in the corps, “that +Captain Lawton always slept with one eye open.” This group had +assembled in one of the parlors as the sun made its appearance over the +eastern hill, dispersing the columns of fog which had enveloped the +lowland. + +Miss Peyton was looking from a window in the direction of the tenement +of the peddler, and was expressing a kind anxiety after the welfare of +the sick man, when the person of Katy suddenly emerged from the dense +covering of an earthly cloud, whose mists were scattering before the +cheering rays of the sun, and was seen making hasty steps towards the +Locusts. There was that in the air of the housekeeper which bespoke +distress of an unusual nature, and the kind-hearted mistress of the +Locusts opened the door of the room, with the benevolent intention of +soothing a grief that seemed so overwhelming. A nearer view of the +disturbed features of the visitor confirmed Miss Peyton in her belief; +and, with the shock that gentle feelings ever experience at a sudden +and endless separation from even the meanest of their associates, she +said hastily,— + +“Katy, is he gone?” + +“No, ma’am,” replied the disturbed damsel, with great bitterness, “he +is not yet gone, but he may go as soon as he pleases now, for the worst +is done. I do verily believe, Miss Peyton, they haven’t so much as left +him money enough to buy him another suit of clothes to cover his +nakedness, and those he has on are none of the best, I can tell you.” + +“How!” exclaimed the other, astonished, “could anyone have the heart to +plunder a man in such distress?” + +“Hearts,” repeated Katy, catching her breath. “Men like them have no +bowels” at all. Plunder and distress, indeed! Why, ma’am, there were in +the iron pot, in plain sight, fifty-four guineas of gold, besides what +lay underneath, which I couldn’t count without handling; and I didn’t +like to touch it, for they say that another’s gold is apt to stick—so, +judging from that in sight, there wasn’t less than two hundred guineas, +besides what might have been in the deerskin purse. But Harvey is +little better now than a beggar; and a beggar, Miss Jeanette, is the +most awfully despisable of all earthly creatures.” + +“Poverty is to be pitied, and not despised,” said the lady, still +unable to comprehend the extent of the misfortune that had befallen her +neighbor during the night. “But how is the old man? And does this loss +affect him much?” + +The countenance of Katy changed, from the natural expression of +concern, to the set form of melancholy, as she answered,— + +“He is happily removed from the cares of the world; the chinking of the +money made him get out of his bed, and the poor soul found the shock +too great for him. He died about two hours and ten minutes before the +cock crowed, as near as we can say.” She was interrupted by the +physician, who, approaching, inquired, with much interest, the nature +of the disorder. Glancing her eye over the figure of this new +acquaintance, Katy instinctively adjusting her dress, replied,— + +“’Twas the troubles of the times, and the loss of property, that +brought him down; he wasted from day to day, and all my care and +anxiety were lost; for now Harvey is no better than a beggar, and who +is there to pay me for what I have done?” + +“God will reward you for all the good you have done,” said Miss Peyton, +mildly. + +“Yes,” interrupted the spinster hastily, and with an air of reverence +that was instantly succeeded by an expression that denoted more of +worldly care; “but then I have left my wages for three years past in +the hands of Harvey, and how am I to get them? My brothers told me, +again and again, to ask for my money; but I always thought accounts +between relations were easily settled.” + +“Were you related, then, to Birch?” asked Miss Peyton, observing her to +pause. + +“Why,” returned the housekeeper, hesitating a little, “I thought we +were as good as so. I wonder if I have no claim on the house and +garden; though they say, now it is Harvey’s, it will surely be +confiscated.” Turning to Lawton, who had been sitting in one posture, +with his piercing eyes lowering at her through his thick brows, in +silence, “Perhaps this gentleman knows—he seems to take an interest in +my story.” + +“Madam,” said the trooper, bowing very low, “both you and the tale are +extremely interesting”—Katy smiled involuntarily—“but my humble +knowledge is limited to the setting of a squadron in the field, and +using it when there. I beg leave to refer you to Dr. Archibald +Sitgreaves, a gentleman of universal attainments and unbounded +philanthropy; the very milk of human sympathies, and a mortal foe to +all indiscriminate cutting.” + +The surgeon drew up, and employed himself in whistling a low air, as he +looked over some phials on a table; but the housekeeper, turning to him +with an inclination of the head, continued,— + +“I suppose, sir, a woman has no dower in her husband’s property, unless +they be actually married.” + +It was a maxim with Dr. Sitgreaves, that no species of knowledge was to +be despised; and, consequently, he was an empiric in everything but his +profession. At first, indignation at the irony of his comrade kept him +silent; but, suddenly changing his purpose, he answered the applicant +with a good-natured smile,— + +“I judge not. If death has anticipated your nuptials, I am fearful you +have no remedy against his stern decrees.” + +To Katy this sounded well, although she understood nothing of its +meaning, but “death” and “nuptials.” To this part of his speech, then, +she directed her reply. + +“I did think he only waited the death of the old gentleman before he +married,” said the housekeeper, looking on the carpet. “But now he is +nothing more than despisable, or, what’s the same thing, a peddler +without house, pack, or money. It might be hard for a man to get a wife +at all in such a predicary—don’t you think it would, Miss Peyton?” + +“I seldom trouble myself with such things,” said the lady gravely. + +During this dialogue Captain Lawton had been studying the countenance +and manner of the housekeeper, with a most ludicrous gravity; and, +fearful the conversation would cease, he inquired, with an appearance +of great interest,— + +“You think it was age and debility that removed the old gentleman at +last?” + +“And the troublesome times. Trouble is a heavy pull down to a sick bed; +but I suppose his time had come, and when that happens, it matters but +little what doctor’s stuff we take.” + +“Let me set you right in that particular,” interrupted the surgeon. “We +must all die, it is true, but it is permitted us to use the lights of +science, in arresting dangers as they occur, until—” + +“We can die _secundem artem_,” cried the trooper. + +To this observation the physician did not deign to reply; but, deeming +it necessary to his professional dignity that the conversation should +continue, he added,— + +“Perhaps, in this instance, judicious treatment might have prolonged +the life of the patient. Who administered to the case?” + +“No one yet,” said the housekeeper, with quickness. “I expect he has +made his last will and testament.” + +The surgeon disregarded the smile of the ladies, and pursued his +inquiries. + +“It is doubtless wise to be prepared for death. But under whose care +was the sick man during his indisposition?” + +“Under mine,” answered Katy, with an air of a little importance. “And +care thrown away I may well call it; for Harvey is quite too despisable +to be any sort of compensation at present.” + +The mutual ignorance of each other’s meaning made very little +interruption to the dialogue, for both took a good deal for granted, +and Sitgreaves pursued the subject. + +“And how did you treat him?” + +“Kindly, you may be certain,” said Katy, rather tartly. + +“The doctor means medically, madam,” observed Captain Lawton, with a +face that would have honored the funeral of the deceased. + +“I doctored him mostly with yarbs,” said the housekeeper, smiling, as +if conscious of error. + +“With simples,” returned the surgeon. “They are safer in the hands of +the unlettered than more powerful remedies; but why had you no regular +attendant?” + +“I’m sure Harvey has suffered enough already from having so much +concerns with the rig’lars,” replied the housekeeper. “He has lost his +all, and made himself a vagabond through the land; and I have reason to +rue the day I ever crossed the threshold of his house.” + +“Dr. Sitgreaves does not mean a rig’lar soldier, but a regular +physician, madam,” said the trooper. + +“Oh!” cried the maiden, again correcting herself, “for the best of all +reasons; there was none to be had, so I took care of him myself. If +there had been a doctor at hand, I am sure we would gladly have had +him; for my part, I am clear for doctoring, though Harvey says I am +killing myself with medicines; but I am sure it will make but little +difference to him, whether I live or die.” + +“Therein you show your sense,” said the surgeon, approaching the +spinster, who sat holding the palms of her hands and the soles of her +feet to the genial heat of a fine fire, making the most of comfort amid +all her troubles. “You appear to be a sensible, discreet woman, and +some who have had opportunities of acquiring more correct views might +envy you your respect for knowledge and the lights of science.” + +Although the housekeeper did not altogether comprehend the other’s +meaning, she knew he used a compliment, and as such was highly pleased +with what he said. With increased animation, therefore, she cried, “It +was always said of me, that I wanted nothing but opportunity to make +quite a physician myself; so long as before I came to live with +Harvey’s father, they called me the petticoat doctor.” + +“More true than civil, I dare say,” returned the surgeon, losing sight +of the woman’s character in his admiration of her respect for the +healing art. “In the absence of more enlightened counselors, the +experience of a discreet matron is frequently of great efficacy in +checking the progress of disease; under such circumstances, madam, it +is dreadful to have to contend with ignorance and obstinacy.” + +“Bad enough, as I well know from experience,” cried Katy, in triumph. +“Harvey is as obstinate about such things as a dumb beast; one would +think the care I took of his bedridden father might learn him better +than to despise good nursing. But some day he may know what it is to +want a careful woman in his house, though now I am sure he is too +despisable himself to have a house.” + +“Indeed, I can easily comprehend the mortification you must have felt +in having one so self-willed to deal with,” returned the surgeon, +glancing his eyes reproachfully at his comrade. “But you should rise +superior to such opinions, and pity the ignorance by which they are +engendered.” + +The housekeeper hesitated a moment, at a loss to comprehend all that +the surgeon expressed, yet she felt it was both complimentary and kind; +therefore, suppressing her natural flow of language a little, she +replied,— + +“I tell Harvey his conduct is often condemnable, and last night he made +my words good; but the opinions of such unbelievers is not very +consequential; yet it is dreadful to think how he behaves at times: +now, when he threw away the needle—” + +“What!” said the surgeon, interrupting her, “does he affect to despise +the needle? But it is my lot to meet with men, daily, who are equally +perverse, and who show a still more culpable disrespect for the +information that flows from the lights of science.” + +The doctor turned his face towards Captain Lawton while speaking, but +the elevation of the head prevented his eyes from resting on the grave +countenance maintained by the trooper. Katy listened with admiring +attention, and when the other had done, she added,— + +“Then Harvey is a disbeliever in the tides.” + +“Not believe in the tides!” repeated the healer of bodies in +astonishment. “Does the man distrust his senses? But perhaps it is the +influence of the moon that he doubts.” + +“That he does!” exclaimed Katy, shaking with delight at meeting with a +man of learning, who could support her opinions. “If you was to hear +him talk, you would think he didn’t believe there was such a thing as a +moon at all.” + +“It is the misfortune of ignorance and incredulity, madam, that they +feed themselves. The mind, once rejecting useful information, +insensibly leans to superstition and conclusions on the order of +nature, that are not less prejudicial to the cause of truth, than they +are at variance with the first principles of human knowledge.” + +The spinster was too much awe-struck to venture an undigested reply to +this speech; and the surgeon, after pausing a moment in a kind of +philosophical disdain, continued,— + +“That any man in his senses can doubt of the flux of the tides is more +than I could have thought possible; yet obstinacy is a dangerous inmate +to harbor, and may lead us into any error, however gross.” + +“You think, then, they have an effect on the flux?” said the +housekeeper, inquiringly. + +Miss Peyton rose and beckoned her nieces to give her their assistance +in the adjoining pantry, while for a moment the dark visage of the +attentive Lawton was lighted by an animation that vanished by an +effort, as powerful and as sudden, as the one that drew it into being. + +After reflecting whether he rightly understood the meaning of the +other, the surgeon, making due allowance for the love of learning, +acting upon a want of education, replied,— + +“The moon, you mean; many philosophers have doubted how far it affects +the tides; but I think it is willfully rejecting the lights of science +not to believe it causes both the flux and reflux.” + +As reflux was a disorder with which Katy was not acquainted, she +thought it prudent to be silent; yet burning with curiosity to know the +meaning of certain portentous lights to which the other so often +alluded, she ventured to ask,— + +“If them lights he spoke of were what was called northern lights in +these parts?” + +In charity to her ignorance, the surgeon would have entered into an +elaborate explanation of his meaning, had he not been interrupted by +the mirth of Lawton. The trooper had listened so far with great +composure; but now he laughed until his aching bones reminded him of +his fall, and the tears rolled over his cheeks in larger drops than had +ever been seen there before. At length the offended physician seized an +opportunity of a pause to say,— + +“To you, Captain Lawton, it may be a source of triumph, that an +uneducated woman should make a mistake in a subject on which men of +science have long been at variance; but yet you find this respectable +matron does not reject the lights—does not reject the use of proper +instruments in repairing injuries sustained by the human frame. You may +possibly remember, sir, her allusion to the use of the needle.” + +“Aye,” cried the delighted trooper, “to mend the peddler’s breeches.” + +Katy drew up in evident displeasure, and prompt to vindicate her +character for more lofty acquirements, she said,— + +“’Twas not a common use that I put that needle to—but one of much +greater virtue.” + +“Explain yourself, madam,” said the surgeon impatiently, “that this +gentleman may see how little reason he has for exultation.” + +Thus solicited, Katy paused to collect sufficient eloquence to garnish +her narrative. The substance of her tale was, that a child who had been +placed by the guardians of the poor in the keeping of Harvey, had, in +the absence of its master, injured itself badly in the foot by a large +needle. The offending instrument had been carefully greased, wrapped in +woolen, and placed in a certain charmed nook of the chimney; while the +foot, from a fear of weakening the incantation, was left in a state of +nature. The arrival of the peddler had altered the whole of this +admirable treatment; and the consequences were expressed by Katy, as +she concluded her narrative, by saying,— + +“’Twas no wonder the boy died of a lockjaw!” + +Doctor Sitgreaves looked out of the window in admiration of the +brilliant morning, striving all he could to avoid the basilisk’s eyes +of his comrade. He was impelled, by a feeling that he could not +conquer, however, to look Captain Lawton in the face. The trooper had +arranged every muscle of his countenance to express sympathy for the +fate of the poor child; but the exultation of his eyes cut the +astounded man of science to the quick; he muttered something concerning +the condition of his patients, and retreated with precipitation. + +Miss Peyton entered into the situation of things at the house of the +peddler, with all the interest of her excellent feelings; she listened +patiently while Katy recounted, more particularly, the circumstances of +the past night as they had occurred. The spinster did not forget to +dwell on the magnitude of the pecuniary loss sustained by Harvey, and +in no manner spared her invectives, at his betraying a secret which +might so easily have been kept. + +“For, Miss Peyton,” continued the housekeeper, after a pause to take +breath, “I would have given up life before I would have given up that +secret. At the most, they could only have killed him, and now a body +may say that they have slain both soul and body; or, what’s the same +thing, they have made him a despisable vagabond. I wonder who he thinks +would be his wife, or who would keep his house, For my part, my good +name is too precious to be living with a lone man; though, for the +matter of that, he is never there. I am resolved to tell him this day, +that stay there a single woman, I will not an hour after the funeral; +and marry him I don’t think I will, unless he becomes steadier and more +of a home body.” + +The mild mistress of the Locusts suffered the exuberance of the +housekeeper’s feelings to expend itself, and then, by one or two +judicious questions, that denoted a more intimate knowledge of the +windings of the human heart in matters of Cupid than might fairly be +supposed to belong to a spinster, she extracted enough from Katy to +discover the improbability of Harvey’s ever presuming to offer himself, +with his broken fortunes, to the acceptance of Katharine Haynes. She +therefore mentioned her own want of assistance in the present state of +her household, and expressed a wish that Katy would change her +residence to the Locusts, in case the peddler had no further use for +her services. After a few preliminary conditions on the part of the +wary housekeeper, the arrangement was concluded; and making a few more +piteous lamentations on the weight of her own losses and the stupidity +of Harvey, united with some curiosity to know the future fate of the +peddler, Katy withdrew to make the necessary preparations for the +approaching funeral, which was to take place that day. + +During the interview between the two females, Lawton, through delicacy, +had withdrawn. Anxiety took him to the room of Captain Singleton. The +character of this youth, it has already been shown, endeared him in a +peculiar manner to every officer in the corps. The singularly mild +deportment of the young dragoon had on so many occasions been proved +not to proceed from want of resolution that his almost feminine +softness of manner and appearance had failed to bring him into +disrepute, even in that band of partisan warriors. + +To the major he was as dear as a brother, and his easy submission to +the directions of his surgeon had made him a marked favorite with Dr. +Sitgreaves. The rough usage the corps often received in its daring +attacks had brought each of its officers, in succession, under the +temporary keeping of the surgeon. To Captain Singleton the man of +science had decreed the palm of docility, on such occasions, and +Captain Lawton he had fairly blackballed. He frequently declared, with +unconquerable simplicity and earnestness of manner, that it gave him +more pleasure to see the former brought in wounded than any officer in +the squadron, and that the latter afforded him the least; a compliment +and condemnation that were usually received by the first of the parties +with a quiet smile of good nature, and by the last with a grave bow of +thanks. On the present occasion, the mortified surgeon and exulting +trooper met in the room of Captain Singleton, as a place where they +could act on common ground. Some time was occupied in joint attentions +to the comfort of the wounded officer, and the doctor retired to an +apartment prepared for his own accommodation; here, within a few +minutes, he was surprised by the entrance of Lawton. The triumph of the +trooper had been so complete, that he felt he could afford to be +generous, and commencing by voluntarily throwing aside his coat, he +cried carelessly,— + +“Sitgreaves, administer a little of the aid of the lights of science to +my body, if you please.” + +The surgeon was beginning to feel this was a subject that was +intolerable, but venturing a glance towards his comrade, he saw with +surprise the preparations he had made, and an air of sincerity about +him, that was unusual to his manner when making such a request. +Changing his intended burst of resentment to a tone of civil inquiry, +he said,— + +“Does Captain Lawton want anything at my hands?” + +“Look for yourself, my dear sir,” said the trooper mildly. “Here seem +to be most of the colors of the rainbow, on this shoulder.” + +“You have reason for saying so,” said the other, handling the part with +great tenderness and consummate skill. “But happily nothing is broken. +It is wonderful how well you escaped!” + +“I have been a tumbler from my youth, and I am past minding a few falls +from a horse; but, Sitgreaves,” he added with affection, and pointing +to a scar on his body, “do you remember this bit of work?” + +“Perfectly well, Jack; it was bravely obtained, and neatly extracted; +but don’t you think I had better apply an oil to these bruises?” + +“Certainly,” said Lawton, with unexpected condescension. + +“Now, my dear boy,” cried the doctor, exultantly, as he busied himself +in applying the remedy to the hurts, “do you not think it would have +been better to have done all this last night?” + +“Quite probable.” + +“Yes, Jack, but if you had let me perform the operation of phlebotomy +when I first saw you, it would have been of infinite service.” + +“No phlebotomy,” said the other, positively. + +“It is now too late; but a dose of oil would carry off the humors +famously.” + +To this the captain made no reply, but grated his teeth, in a way that +showed the fortress of his mouth was not to be assailed without a +resolute resistance; and the experienced physician changed the subject +by saying,— + +“It is a pity, John, that you did not catch the rascal, after the +danger and trouble you incurred.” + +The captain of dragoons made no reply; and, while placing some bandages +on the wounded shoulder, the surgeon continued,— + +“If I have any wish at all to destroy human life, it is to have the +pleasure of seeing that traitor hanged.” + +“I thought your business was to cure, and not to slay,” said the +trooper, dryly. + +“Aye! but he has caused us such heavy losses by his information, that I +sometimes feel a very unsophistical temper towards that spy.” + +“You should not encourage such feelings of animosity to any of your +fellow creatures,” returned Lawton, in a tone that caused the operator +to drop a pin he was arranging in the bandages from his hand. He looked +the patient in the face to remove all doubts of his identity; finding, +however, it was his old comrade, Captain John Lawton, who had spoken, +he rallied his astonished faculties, and proceeded by saying,— + +“Your doctrine is just, and in general I subscribe to it. But, John, my +dear fellow, is the bandage easy?” + +“Quite.” + +“I agree with you as a whole; but as matter is infinitely divisible, so +no case exists without an exception. Lawton, do you feel easy?” + +“Very.” + +“It is not only cruel to the sufferer, but sometimes unjust to others, +to take human life where a less punishment would answer the purpose. +Now, Jack, if you were only—move your arm a little—if you were only—I +hope you feel easier, my dear friend?” + +“Much.” + +“If, my dear John, you would teach your men to cut with more +discretion, it would answer you the same purpose—and give me great +pleasure.” + +The doctor drew a heavy sigh, as he was enabled to get rid of what was +nearest to the heart; and the dragoon coolly replaced his coat, saying +with great deliberation as he retired,— + +“I know no troop that cut more judiciously; they generally shave from +the crown to the jaw.” + +The disappointed operator collected his instruments, and with a heavy +heart proceeded to pay a visit to the room of Colonel Wellmere. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +This fairy form contains a soul as mighty, +As that which lives within a giant’s frame; +These slender limbs, that tremble like the aspen +At summer evening’s sigh, uphold a spirit, +Which, roused, can tower to the height of heaven, +And light those shining windows of the face +With much of heaven’s own radiance. + + +—Duo. + + +The number and character of her guests had greatly added to the cares +of Miss Jeanette Peyton. The morning found them all restored, in some +measure, to their former ease of body, with the exception of the +youthful captain of dragoons, who had been so deeply regretted by +Dunwoodie. The wound of this officer was severe, though the surgeon +persevered in saying that it was without danger. His comrade, we have +shown, had deserted his couch; and Henry Wharton awoke from a sleep +that had been undisturbed by anything but a dream of suffering +amputation under the hands of a surgical novice. As it proved, however, +to be nothing but a dream, the youth found himself much refreshed by +his slumbers; and Dr. Sitgreaves removed all further apprehensions by +confidently pronouncing that he would be a well man within a fortnight. + +During all this time Colonel Wellmere did not make his appearance; he +breakfasted in his own room, and, notwithstanding certain significant +smiles of the man of science, declared himself too much injured to rise +from his bed. Leaving him, therefore, endeavoring to conceal his +chagrin in the solitude of his chamber, the surgeon proceeded to the +more grateful task of sitting an hour by the bedside of George +Singleton. A slight flush was on the face of the patient as the doctor +entered the room, and the latter advanced promptly and laid his fingers +on the pulse of the youth, beckoning to him to be silent, while he +muttered,— + +“Growing symptoms of a febrile pulse—no, no, my dear George, you must +remain quiet and dumb; though your eyes look better, and your skin has +even a moisture.” + +“Nay, my dear Sitgreaves,” said the youth, taking his hand, “you see +there is no fever about me; look, is there any of Jack Lawton’s +hoarfrost on my tongue?” + +“No, indeed,” said the surgeon, clapping a spoon in the mouth of the +other, forcing it open, and looking down his throat as if disposed to +visit the interior in person. “The tongue is well, and the pulse begins +to lower again. Ah! the bleeding did you good. Phlebotomy is a +sovereign specific for southern constitutions. But that madcap Lawton +absolutely refused to be blooded for a fall he had from his horse last +night. Why, George, your case is becoming singular,” continued the +doctor, instinctively throwing aside his wig. “Your pulse even and +soft, your skin moist, but your eye fiery, and cheek flushed. Oh! I +must examine more closely into these symptoms.” + +“Softly, my good friend, softly,” said the youth, falling back on his +pillow, and losing some of that color which alarmed his companion. “I +believe, in extracting the ball, you did for me all that is required. I +am free from pain and only weak, I do assure you.” + +“Captain Singleton,” said the surgeon, with heat, “it is presumptuous +in you to pretend to tell your medical attendant when you are free from +pain. If it be not to enable us to decide in such matters, of what +avail the lights of science? For shame, George, for shame! Even that +perverse fellow, John Lawton, could not behave with more obstinacy.” + +His patient smiled, as he gently repulsed his physician in an attempt +to undo the bandages, and with a returning glow to his cheeks, +inquired,— + +“Do, Archibald,”—a term of endearment that seldom failed to soften the +operator’s heart,—“tell me what spirit from heaven has been gliding +around my apartment, while I lay pretending to sleep?” + +“If anyone interferes with my patients,” cried the doctor, hastily, “I +will teach them, spirit or no spirit, what it is to meddle with another +man’s concerns.” + +“Tut—my dear fellow, there was no interference made, nor any intended. +See,” exhibiting the bandages, “everything is as you left it,—but it +glided about the room with the grace of a fairy and the tenderness of +an angel.” + +The surgeon, having satisfied himself that everything was as he had +left it, very deliberately resumed his seat and replaced his wig, as he +inquired, with a brevity that would have honored Lieutenant Mason,— + +“Had it petticoats, George?” + +“I saw nothing but its heavenly eyes—its bloom—its majestic step—its +grace,” replied the young man, with rather more ardor than his surgeon +thought consistent with his debilitated condition; and he laid his hand +on his mouth to stop him, saying himself,— + +“It must have been Miss Jeanette Peyton—a lady of fine accomplishments, +with—hem—with something of the kind of step you speak of—a very +complacent eye; and as to the bloom, I dare say offices of charity can +summon as fine a color to her cheeks, as glows in the faces of her more +youthful nieces.” + +“Nieces? Has she nieces, then? The angel I saw may be a daughter, a +sister, or a niece,—but never an aunt.” + +“Hush, George, hush; your talking has brought your pulse up again. You +must observe quiet, and prepare for a meeting with your own sister, who +will be here within an hour.” + +“What, Isabella! And who sent for her?” + +“The major.” + +“Considerate Dunwoodie!” murmured the exhausted youth, sinking again on +his pillow, where the commands of his attendant compelled him to remain +silent. + +Even Captain Lawton had been received with many and courteous inquiries +after the state of his health, from all the members of the family, when +he made his morning entrance; but an invisible spirit presided over the +comforts of the English colonel. Sarah had shrunk with consciousness +from entering the room; yet she knew the position of every glass, and +had, with her own hands, supplied the contents of every bowl, that +stood on his table. + +At the time of our tale, we were a divided people, and Sarah thought it +was no more than her duty to cherish the institutions of that country +to which she yet clung as the land of her forefathers; but there were +other and more cogent reasons for the silent preference she was giving +to the Englishman. His image had first filled the void in her youthful +fancy, and it was an image that was distinguished by many of those +attractions that can enchain a female heart. It is true, he wanted the +personal excellence of Peyton Dunwoodie, but his pretensions were far +from contemptible. Sarah had moved about the house during the morning, +casting frequent and longing glances at the door of Wellmere’s +apartment, anxious to learn the condition of his wounds, and yet +ashamed to inquire; conscious interest kept her tongue tied, until her +sister, with the frankness of innocence, had put the desired question +to Dr. Sitgreaves. + +“Colonel Wellmere,” said the operator, gravely, “is in what I call a +state of free will, madam. He is ill, or he is well, as he pleases. His +case, young lady, exceeds my art to heal; and I take it Sir Henry +Clinton is the best adviser he can apply to; though Major Dunwoodie has +made the communication with his leech rather difficult.” + +Frances smiled, but averted her face, while Sarah moved, with the grace +of an offended Juno, from the apartment. Her own room, however, +afforded her but little relief, and in passing through the long gallery +that communicated with each of the chambers of the building, she +noticed the door of Singleton’s room to be open. The wounded youth +seemed sleeping, and was alone. She had ventured lightly into the +apartment, and busied herself for a few minutes in arranging the +tables, and the nourishment provided for the patient, hardly conscious +of what she was doing, and possibly dreaming that these little feminine +offices were performed for another. Her natural bloom was heightened by +the insinuation of the surgeon, nor was the luster of her eye in any +degree diminished. The sound of the approaching footsteps of Sitgreaves +hastened her retreat down a private stairway, to the side of her +sister. The sisters then sought the fresh air on the piazza; and as +they pursued their walk, arm in arm, the following dialogue took +place:— + +“There is something disagreeable about this surgeon of Dunwoodie,” said +Sarah, “that causes me to wish him away most heartily.” + +Frances fixed her laughing eyes on her sister; but forbearing to speak, +the other readily construed their expression, and hastily added, “But I +forget he is one of your renowned corps of Virginians, and must be +spoken of reverently.” + +“As respectfully as you please, my dear sister; there is but little +danger of exceeding the truth.” + +“Not in your opinion,” said the elder, with a little warmth. “But I +think Mr. Dunwoodie has taken a liberty that exceeds the rights of +consanguinity; he has made our father’s house a hospital.” + +“We ought to be grateful that none of the patients it contains are +dearer to us.” + +“Your brother is one.” + +“True, true,” interrupted Frances, blushing to the eyes; “but he leaves +his room, and thinks his wound lightly purchased by the pleasure of +being with his friends. If,” she added, with a tremulous lip, “this +dreadful suspicion that is affixed to his visit were removed, I could +consider his wound of little moment.” + +“You now have the fruits of rebellion brought home to you; a brother +wounded and a prisoner, and perhaps a victim; your father distressed, +his privacy interrupted, and not improbably his estates torn from him, +on account of his loyalty to his king.” + +Frances continued her walk in silence. While facing the northern +entrance to the vale, her eyes were uniformly fastened on the point +where the road was suddenly lost by the intervention of a hill; and at +each turn, as she lost sight of the spot, she lingered until an +impatient movement of her sister quickened her pace to an even motion +with that of her own. At length, a single horse chaise was seen making +its way carefully among the stones which lay scattered over the country +road that wound through the valley, and approached the cottage. The +color of Frances changed as the vehicle gradually drew nearer; and when +she was enabled to see a female form in it by the side of a black in +livery, her limbs shook with an agitation that compelled her to lean on +Sarah for support. In a few minutes the travelers approached the gate. +It was thrown open by a dragoon who followed the carriage, and who had +been the messenger dispatched by Dunwoodie to the father of Captain +Singleton. Miss Peyton advanced to receive their guest, and the sisters +united in giving her the kindest welcome; still Frances could with +difficulty withdraw her truant eyes from the countenance of their +visitor. She was young, and of a light and fragile form, but of +exquisite proportions. Her eyes were large, full, black, piercing, and +at times a little wild. Her hair was luxuriant, and as it was without +the powder it was then the fashion to wear, it fell in raven blackness. +A few of its locks had fallen on her cheek, giving its chilling +whiteness by the contrast a more deadly character. Dr. Sitgreaves +supported her from the chaise; and when she gained the floor of the +piazza, she turned an expressive look on the face of the practitioner. + +“Your brother is out of danger and wishes to see you, Miss Singleton,” +said the surgeon. + +The lady burst into a flood of tears. Frances had stood contemplating +the action and face of Isabella with a kind of uneasy admiration, but +she now sprang to her side with the ardor of a sister, and kindly +drawing her arm within her own, led the way to a retired room. The +movement was so ingenuous, so considerate, and so delicate, that even +Miss Peyton withheld her interference, following the youthful pair with +only her eyes and a smile of complacency. The feeling was communicated +to all the spectators, and they dispersed in pursuit of their usual +avocations. Isabella yielded to the gentle influence of Frances without +resistance; and, having gained the room where the latter conducted her, +wept in silence on the shoulder of the observant and soothing girl, +until Frances thought her tears exceeded the emotion natural to the +occasion. The sobs of Miss Singleton for a time were violent and +uncontrollable, until, with an evident exertion, she yielded to a kind +observation of her companion, and succeeded in suppressing her tears. +Raising her face to the eyes of Frances, she rose, while a smile of +beautiful radiance passed over her features; and making a hasty apology +for the excess of her emotion, she desired to be conducted to the room +of the invalid. + +The meeting between the brother and sister was warm, but, by an effort +on the part of the lady, more composed than her previous agitation had +given reason to expect. Isabella found her brother looking better, and +in less danger than her sensitive imagination had led her to suppose. +Her spirits rose in proportion; from despondency, she passed to +something like gayety; her beautiful eyes sparkled with renovated +brilliancy; and her face was lighted with smiles so fascinating, that +Frances, who, in compliance with her earnest entreaties, had +accompanied her to the sick chamber, sat gazing on a countenance that +possessed so wonderful variability, impelled by a charm that was beyond +her control. The youth had thrown an earnest look at Frances, as soon +as his sister raised herself from his arms, and perhaps it was the +first glance at the lovely lineaments of our heroine, when the gazer +turned his eyes from the view in disappointment. He seemed bewildered, +rubbed his forehead like a man awaking from a dream, and mused. + +“Where is Dunwoodie, Isabella?” he said. “The excellent fellow is never +weary of kind actions. After a day of such service as that of +yesterday, he has spent the night in bringing me a nurse, whose +presence alone is able to raise me from my couch.” + +The expression of the lady’s countenance changed; her eye roved around +the apartment with a character of wildness in it that repelled the +anxious Frances, who studied her movements with unabated interest. + +“Dunwoodie! Is he then not here? I thought to have met him by the side +of my brother’s bed.” + +“He has duties that require his presence elsewhere; the English are +said to be out by the way of the Hudson, and they give us light troops +but little rest. Surely nothing else could have kept him so long from a +wounded friend. But, Isabella, the meeting has been too much for you; +you tremble.” + +Isabella made no reply; she stretched her hand towards the table which +held the nourishment of the captain, and the attentive Frances +comprehended her wishes in a moment. A glass of water in some measure +revived the sister, who was enabled to say,— + +“Doubtless it is his duty. ’Twas said above, a royal party was moving +on the river; though I passed the troops but two miles from this spot.” +The latter part of the sentence was hardly audible, and it was spoken +more in the manner of a soliloquy, than as if for the ears of her +companions. + +“On the march, Isabella?” eagerly inquired her brother. + +“No, dismounted, and seemingly at rest,” was the reply. + +The wondering dragoon turned his gaze on the countenance of his sister, +who sat with her eye bent on the carpet in unconscious absence, but +found no explanation. His look was changed to the face of Frances, who, +startled by the earnestness of his expression, arose, and hastily +inquired if he would have any assistance. + +“If you can pardon the rudeness,” said the wounded officer, making a +feeble effort to raise his body, “I would request to have Captain +Lawton’s company for a moment.” + +Frances hastened instantly to communicate his wish to that gentleman, +and impelled by an interest she could not control, she returned again +to her seat by the side of Miss Singleton. + +“Lawton,” said the youth, impatiently, as the trooper entered, “hear +you from the major?” + +The eye of the sister was now bent on the face of the trooper, who made +his salutations to the lady with ease, blended with the frankness of a +soldier. + +“His man has been here twice,” he said, “to inquire how we fared in the +lazaretto.” + +“And why not himself?” + +“That is a question the major can answer best; but you know the +redcoats are abroad, and Dunwoodie commands in the county; these +English must be looked to.” + +“True,” said Singleton, slowly, as if struck with the other’s reasons. +“But how is it that you are idle, when there is work to do?” + +“My sword arm is not in the best condition, and Roanoke has but a +shambling gait this morning; besides, there is another reason I could +mention, if it were not that Miss Wharton would never forgive me.” + +“Speak, I beg, without dread of my displeasure,” said Frances, +returning the good-humored smile of the trooper, with the archness +natural to her own sweet face. + +“The odors of your kitchen, then,” cried Lawton bluntly, “forbid my +quitting the domains, until I qualify myself to speak with more +certainty concerning the fatness of the land.” + +“Oh! Aunt Jeanette is exerting herself to do credit to my father’s +hospitality,” said the laughing girl, “and I am a truant from her +labors, as I shall be a stranger to her favor, unless I proffer my +assistance.” + +Frances withdrew to seek her aunt, musing deeply on the character and +extreme sensibility of the new acquaintance chance had brought to the +cottage. + +The wounded officer followed her with his eyes, as she moved, with +infantile grace, through the door of his apartment, and as she vanished +from his view, he observed,— + +“Such an aunt and niece are seldom to be met with, Jack; this seems a +fairy, but the aunt is angelic.” + +“You are doing well, I see; your enthusiasm for the sex holds its own.” + +“I should be ungrateful as well as insensible, did I not bear testimony +to the loveliness of Miss Peyton.” + +“A good motherly lady, but as to love, that is a matter of taste. A few +years younger, with deference to her prudence and experience, would +accord better with my fancy.” + +“She must be under twenty,” said the other, quickly. + +“It depends on the way you count. If you begin at the heel of life, +well; but if you reckon downward, as is most common, I think she is +nearer forty.” + +“You have mistaken an elder sister for the aunt,” said Isabella, laying +her fair hand on the mouth of the invalid. “You must be silent! Your +feelings are beginning to affect your frame.” + +The entrance of Dr. Sitgreaves, who, in some alarm, noticed the +increase of feverish symptoms in his patient, enforced this mandate; +and the trooper withdrew to pay a visit of condolence to Roanoke, who +had been an equal sufferer with himself in their last night’s +somersault. To his great joy, his man pronounced the steed to be +equally convalescent with the master; and Lawton found that by dint of +rubbing the animal’s limbs several hours without ceasing, he was +enabled to place his feet in what he called systematic motion. Orders +were accordingly given to be in readiness to rejoin the troop at the +Four Corners, as soon as his master had shared in the bounty of the +approaching banquet. + +In the meantime, Henry Wharton entered the apartment of Wellmere, and +by his sympathy succeeded in restoring the colonel to his own good +graces. The latter was consequently enabled to rise, and prepared to +meet a rival of whom he had spoken so lightly, and, as the result had +proved, with so little reason. Wharton knew that their misfortune, as +they both termed their defeat, was owing to the other’s rashness; but +he forbore to speak of anything except the unfortunate accident which +had deprived the English of their leader, and to which he +good-naturedly ascribed their subsequent discomfiture. + +“In short, Wharton,” said the colonel, putting one leg out of bed, “it +may be called a combination of untoward events; your own ungovernable +horse prevented my orders from being carried to the major, in season to +flank the rebels.” + +“Very true,” replied the captain, kicking a slipper towards the bed. +“Had we succeeded in getting a few good fires upon them in flank, we +should have sent these brave Virginians to the right about.” + +“Aye, and that in double-quick time,” cried the colonel, making the +other leg follow its companion. “Then it was necessary to rout the +guides, you know, and the movement gave them the best possible +opportunity to charge.” + +“Yes,” said the other, sending the second slipper after the first, “and +this Major Dunwoodie never overlooks an advantage.” + +“I think if we had the thing to do over again,” continued the colonel, +raising himself on his feet, “we might alter the case very materially, +though the chief thing the rebels have now to boast of is my capture; +they were repulsed, you saw, in their attempt to drive us from the +wood.” + +“At least they would have been, had they made an attack,” said the +captain, throwing the rest of his clothes within reach of the colonel. + +“Why, that is the same thing,” returned Wellmere, beginning to dress +himself. “To assume such an attitude as to intimidate your enemy, is +the chief art of war.” + +“Doubtless, then, you may remember in one of their charges they were +completely routed.” + +“True—true,” cried the colonel, with animation. “Had I been there to +have improved that advantage, we might have turned the table on the +Yankees”; saying which he displayed still greater animation in +completing his toilet; and he was soon prepared to make his appearance, +fully restored to his own good opinion, and fairly persuaded that his +capture was owing to casualties absolutely beyond the control of man. + +The knowledge that Colonel Wellmere was to be a guest at the table in +no degree diminished the preparations which were already making for the +banquet; and Sarah, after receiving the compliments of the gentleman, +and making many kind inquiries after the state of his wounds, proceeded +in person to lend her counsel and taste to one of those labored +entertainments, which, at that day, were so frequent in country life, +and which are not entirely banished from our domestic economy at the +present moment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +I will stand to and feed, +Although my last. + + +—Tempest. + + +The savor of preparation which had been noticed by Captain Lawton began +to increase within the walls of the cottage; certain sweet-smelling +odors, that arose from the subterranean territories of Caesar, gave to +the trooper the most pleasing assurances that his olfactory nerves, +which on such occasions were as acute as his eyes on others, had +faithfully performed their duty; and for the benefit of enjoying the +passing sweets as they arose, the dragoon so placed himself at a window +of the building, that not a vapor charged with the spices of the East +could exhale on its passage to the clouds, without first giving its +incense to his nose. Lawton, however, by no means indulged himself in +this comfortable arrangement, without first making such preparations to +do meet honor to the feast, as his scanty wardrobe would allow. The +uniform of his corps was always a passport to the best tables, and +this, though somewhat tarnished by faithful service and unceremonious +usage, was properly brushed and decked out for the occasion. His head, +which nature had ornamented with the blackness of a crow, now shone +with the whiteness of snow; and his bony hand, that so well became the +saber, peered from beneath a ruffle with something like maiden coyness. +The improvements of the dragoon went no further, excepting that his +boots shone with more than holiday splendor, and his spurs glittered in +the rays of the sun, as became the pure ore of which they were +composed. + +Caesar moved through the apartments with a face charged with an +importance exceeding even that which had accompanied him in his +melancholy task of the morning. The black had early returned from the +errand on which he had been dispatched by the peddler, and, obedient to +the commands of his mistress, promptly appeared to give his services +where his allegiance was due; so serious, indeed, was his duty now +becoming, that it was only at odd moments he was enabled to impart to +his sable brother, who had been sent in attendance on Miss Singleton to +the Locusts, any portion of the wonderful incidents of the momentous +night he had so lately passed. By ingeniously using, however, such +occasions as accidentally offered, Caesar communicated so many of the +heads of his tale, as served to open the eyes of his visitor to their +fullest width. The gusto for the marvelous was innate in these sable +worthies; and Miss Peyton found it necessary to interpose her +authority, in order to postpone the residue of the history to a more +befitting opportunity. + +“Ah! Miss Jinnett,” said Caesar, shaking his head, and looking all that +he expressed, “’twas awful to see Johnny Birch walk on a feet when he +lie dead!” + +This concluded the conversation; though the black promised himself the +satisfaction, and did not fail to enjoy it, of having many a gossip on +the subject at a future period. + +The ghost thus happily laid, the department of Miss Peyton flourished; +and by the time the afternoon’s sun had traveled a two hours’ journey +from the meridian, the formal procession from the kitchen to the parlor +commenced, under the auspices of Caesar, who led the van, supporting a +turkey on the palms of his withered hands, with the dexterity of a +balance master. + +Next followed the servant of Captain Lawton, bearing, as he marched +stiffly, and walking wide, as if allowing room for his steed, a ham of +true Virginian flavor; a present from the spinster’s brother in +Accomac. The supporter of this savory dish kept his eye on his trust +with military precision; and by the time he reached his destination, it +might be difficult to say which contained the most juice, his own mouth +or the Accomac bacon. + +Third in the line was to be seen the valet of Colonel Wellmere, who +carried in either hand chickens fricasseed and oyster patties. + +After him marched the attendant of Dr. Sitgreaves, who had +instinctively seized an enormous tureen, as most resembling matters he +understood, and followed on in place, until the steams of the soup so +completely bedimmed the spectacles he wore, as a badge of office, that, +on arriving at the scene of action, he was compelled to deposit his +freight on the floor, until, by removing the glasses, he could see his +way through the piles of reserved china and plate warmers. + +Next followed another trooper, whose duty it was to attend on Captain +Singleton; and, as if apportioning his appetite to the feeble state of +his master, he had contented himself with conveying a pair of ducks, +roasted, until their tempting fragrance began to make him repent his +having so lately demolished a breakfast that had been provided for his +master’s sister, with another prepared for himself. + +The white boy, who belonged to the house, brought up the rear, groaning +under a load of sundry dishes of vegetables, that the cook, by way of +climax, had unwittingly heaped on him. + +But this was far from all of the preparations for that day’s feast; +Caesar had no sooner deposited his bird, which, but the week before, +had been flying amongst the highlands of Dutchess, little dreaming of +so soon heading such a goodly assemblage, than he turned mechanically +on his heel, and took up his line of march again for the kitchen. In +this evolution the black was imitated by his companions in succession, +and another procession to the parlor followed in the same order. By +this admirable arrangement, whole flocks of pigeons, certain bevies of +quails, shoals of flatfish, bass, and sundry woodcock, found their way +into the presence of the company. + +A third attack brought suitable quantities of potatoes, onions, beets, +coldslaw, rice, and all the other minutiae of a goodly dinner. + +The board now fairly groaned with American profusion, and Caesar, +glancing his eye over the show with a most approving conscience, after +readjusting every dish that had not been placed on the table with his +own hands, proceeded to acquaint the mistress of the revels that his +task was happily accomplished. + +Some half hour before the culinary array just recorded took place, all +the ladies disappeared, much in the same unaccountable manner that +swallows flee the approach of winter. But the springtime of their +return had arrived, and the whole party were collected in an apartment +that, in consequence of its containing no side table, and being +furnished with a chintz coverlet settee, was termed a withdrawing-room. + +The kind-hearted spinster had deemed the occasion worthy, not only of +extraordinary preparations in the culinary department, but had seen +proper to deck her own person in garments suited to the guests whom it +was now her happiness to entertain. + +On her head Miss Peyton wore a cap of exquisite lawn, which was +ornamented in front with a broad border of lace, that spread from the +face in such a manner as to admit of a display of artificial flowers, +clustered in a group on the summit of her fine forehead. + +The color of her hair was lost in the profusion of powder with which it +was covered; but a slight curling of the extremities in some degree +relieved the formality of its arrangement, and gave a look of feminine +softness to the features. + +Her dress was a rich, heavy silk, of violet color, cut low around the +bust, with a stomacher of the same material, that fitted close to the +figure, and exhibited the form, from the shoulders to the waist in its +true proportions. Below, the dress was full, and sufficiently showed +that parsimony in attire was not a foible of the day. A small loop +displayed the beauty of the fabric to advantage, and aided in giving +majesty to the figure. + +The tall stature of the lady was heightened by shoes of the same +material with the dress, whose heels added more than an inch to the +liberality of nature. + +The sleeves were short, and close to the limb, until they fell off at +the elbows in large ruffles, that hung in rich profusion from the arm +when extended; and duplicates and triplicates of lawn, trimmed with +Dresden lace, lent their aid in giving delicacy to a hand and arm that +yet retained their whiteness and symmetry. A treble row of large pearls +closely encircled her throat; and a handkerchief of lace partially +concealed that part of the person that the silk had left exposed, but +which the experience of forty years had warned Miss Peyton should now +be veiled. + +Thus attired, and standing erect with the lofty grace that +distinguished the manners of that day, the maiden would have looked +into nothingness a bevy of modern belles. + +The taste of Sarah had kept even pace with the decorations of her aunt; +and a dress, differing in no respect from the one just described, but +in material and tints, exhibited her imposing form to equal advantage. +The satin of her robe was of a pale bluish color. Twenty years did not, +however, require the screen that was prudent in forty, and nothing but +an envious border of exquisite lace hid, in some measure, what the +satin left exposed to view. The upper part of the bust, and the fine +fall of the shoulders, were blazing in all their native beauty, and, +like the aunt, the throat was ornamented by a treble row of pearls, to +correspond with which were rings of the same quality in the ears. The +head was without a cap, and the hair drawn up from the countenance so +as to give to the eye all the loveliness of a forehead as polished as +marble and as white as snow. A few straggling curls fell gracefully on +the neck, and a bouquet of artificial flowers was also placed, like a +coronet, over her brow. + +Miss Singleton had resigned her brother to the advice of Dr. +Sitgreaves, who had succeeded in getting his patient into a deep sleep +after quieting certain feverish symptoms that followed the agitation of +the interview. The sister was persuaded, by the observant mistress of +the mansion, to make one of the party, and she sat by the side of +Sarah, differing but little in appearance from that lady, except in +refusing the use of powder on her raven locks, and that her unusually +high forehead and large, brilliant eyes gave an expression of +thoughtfulness to her features, that was possibly heightened by the +paleness of her cheek. + +Last and least, but not the most unlovely, in this display of female +charms, was the youngest daughter of Mr. Wharton. Frances, we have +already mentioned, left the city before she had attained to the age of +fashionable womanhood. A few adventurous spirits were already beginning +to make inroads in those customs which had so long invaded the comforts +of the fair sex; and the youthful girl had ventured to trust her beauty +to the height which nature had bestowed. This was but little, but that +little was a masterpiece. Frances several times had determined, in the +course of the morning, to bestow more than usual pains in the +decoration of her person. Each time in succession, as she formed this +resolution, she spent a few minutes in looking earnestly towards the +north, and then she as invariably changed it. + +At the appointed hour, our heroine appeared in the drawing-room, +clothed in a robe of pale blue silk, of a cut and fashion much like +that worn by her sister. Her hair was left to the wild curls of nature, +its exuberance being confined to the crown of her head by a long, low +comb, made of light tortoise shell; a color barely distinguishable in +the golden hue of her tresses. Her dress was without a plait or a +wrinkle, and fitted the form with an exactitude that might lead one to +imagine the arch girl more than suspected the beauties it displayed. A +tucker of rich Dresden lace softened the contour of the figure. Her +head was without ornament; but around her throat was a necklace of gold +clasped in front with a rich cornelian. + +Once, and once only, as they moved towards the repast, did Lawton see a +foot thrust itself from beneath the folds of her robe, and exhibit its +little beauties encased in a slipper of blue silk, clasped close to the +shape by a buckle of brilliants. The trooper caught himself sighing as +he thought, though it was good for nothing in the stirrup, how +enchantingly it would grace a minuet. + +As the black appeared on the threshold of the room, making a low +reverence, which has been interpreted for some centuries into “dinner +waits,” Mr. Wharton, clad in a dress of drab, bedecked with enormous +buttons, advanced formally to Miss Singleton, and bending his powdered +head nearly to the level of the hand he extended, received hers in +return. + +Dr. Sitgreaves offered the same homage to Miss Peyton, and met with +equal favor; the lady first pausing to draw on her gloves. + +Colonel Wellmere was honored with a smile from Sarah, while performing +a similar duty; and Frances gave the ends of her taper fingers to +Captain Lawton with maiden bashfulness. + +Much time, and some trouble were expended before the whole party were, +to the great joy of Caesar, comfortably arranged around the table, with +proper attention to all points of etiquette and precedence. The black +well knew the viands were not improving; and though abundantly able to +comprehend the disadvantage of eating a cold dinner, it greatly +exceeded his powers of philosophy to weigh all the latent consequences +to society which depend on social order. + +For the first ten minutes all but the captain of dragoons found +themselves in a situation much to their liking. Even Lawton would have +been perfectly happy, had not excess of civility on the part of his +host and Miss Jeanette Peyton kept him from the more agreeable +occupation of tasting dishes he did want, in order to decline those he +did not. At length, however, the repast was fairly commenced, and a +devoted application to the viands was more eloquent than a thousand +words in favor of Dinah’s skill. + +Next came drinking with the ladies; but as the wine was excellent, and +the glasses ample, the trooper bore this interruption with consummate +good nature. Nay, so fearful was he of giving offense, and of omitting +any of the nicer points of punctilio, that having commenced this +courtesy with the lady who sat next him, he persevered until not one of +his fair companions could, with justice, reproach him with partiality +in this particular. + +Long abstemiousness from anything like generous wine might plead the +excuse of Captain Lawton, especially when exposed to so strong a +temptation as that now before him. Mr. Wharton had been one of a set of +politicians in New York, whose principal exploits before the war had +been to assemble, and pass sage opinions on the signs of the times, +under the inspiration of certain liquor made from a grape that grew on +the south side of the island of Madeira, and which found its way into +the colonies of North America through the medium of the West Indies, +sojourning awhile in the Western Archipelago, by way of proving the +virtues of the climate. A large supply of this cordial had been drawn +from his storehouse in the city, and some of it now sparkled in a +bottle before the captain, blushing in the rays of the sun, which were +passing obliquely through it, like amber. + +Though the meat and vegetables had made their entrance with perfect +order and propriety, their exeunt was effected much in the manner of a +retreat of militia. The point was to clear the board something after +the fabled practice of the harpies, and by dint of scrambling, tossing, +breaking, and spilling, the remnants of the overflowing repast +disappeared. And now another series of processions commenced, by virtue +of which a goodly display of pastry, with its usual accompaniments, +garnished the table. + +Mr. Wharton poured out a glass of wine for the lady who sat on his +right hand, and, pushing the bottle to a guest, said with a low bow,— + +“We are to be honored with a toast from Miss Singleton.” + +Although there was nothing more in this movement than occurred every +day on such occasions, yet the lady trembled, colored, and grew pale +again, seemingly endeavoring to rally her thoughts, until, by her +agitation, she had excited the interest of the whole party; when by an +effort, and in a manner as if she had striven in vain to think of +another, Isabella said, faintly,— + +“Major Dunwoodie.” + +The health was drunk cheerfully by all but Colonel Wellmere, who wet +his lips, and drew figures on the table with some of the liquor he had +spilled. + +At length Colonel Wellmere broke silence by saying aloud to Captain +Lawton,— + +“I suppose, sir, this Mr. Dunwoodie will receive promotion in the rebel +army, for the advantage my misfortune gave him over my command.” + +The trooper had supplied the wants of nature to his perfect +satisfaction; and, perhaps, with the exception of Washington and his +immediate commander, there was no mortal whose displeasure he regarded +a tittle. First helping himself, therefore, to a little of his favorite +bottle, he replied with admirable coolness,— + +“Colonel Wellmere, your pardon; Major Dunwoodie owes his allegiance to +the confederated states of North America, and where he owes it he pays +it. Such a man is no rebel. Promoted I hope he may be, both because he +deserves it, and because I am next in rank in the corps; and I know not +what you call a misfortune, unless you deem meeting the Virginia horse +as such.” + +“We will not differ about terms, sir,” said the colonel, haughtily. “I +spoke as duty to my sovereign prompted; but do you not call the loss of +a commander a misfortune to a party?” + +“It certainly may be so,” said the trooper, with emphasis. + +“Miss Peyton, will you favor us with a toast?” cried the master of the +house, anxious to stop this dialogue. + +The lady bowed her head with dignity, as she named “General Montrose”; +and the long-absent bloom stole lightly over her features. + +“There is no term more doubtful than that word misfortune,” said the +surgeon, regardless of the nice maneuvers of the host. “Some deem one +thing a misfortune, others its opposite; misfortune begets misfortune. +Life is a misfortune, for it may be the means of enduring misfortune; +and death is a misfortune, as it abridges the enjoyments of life.” + +“It is a misfortune that our mess has no such wine as this,” +interrupted the trooper. + +“We will pledge you a sentiment in it, sir, as it seems to suit your +taste,” said Mr. Wharton. + +Lawton filled to the brim, and drank, “A speedy peace, or a stirring +war.” + +“I drink your toast, Captain Lawton, though I greatly distrust your +construction of activity,” said the surgeon. “In my poor judgment, +cavalry should be kept in the rear to improve a victory, and not sent +in front to gain it. Such may be said to be their natural occupation, +if the term can be used in reference to so artificial a body; for all +history shows that the horse have done most when held in reserve.” + +This dissertation, uttered in a sufficiently didactic manner, was a +hint that Miss Peyton did not neglect. She arose and retired, followed +by her juniors. + +Nearly at the same moment, Mr. Wharton and his son made an apology for +their absence, which was required on account of the death of a near +neighbor, and withdrew. + +The retreat of the ladies was the signal for the appearance of the +surgeon’s cigar, which, being established in a corner of his mouth, in +a certain knowing way, caused not the slightest interruption to his +discourse. + +“If anything can sweeten captivity and wounds, it must be the happiness +of suffering in the society of the ladies who have left us,” gallantly +observed the colonel, as he resumed his seat after closing the door. + +“Sympathy and kindness have their influence on the human system,” +returned the surgeon, knocking the ashes from his cigar, with the tip +of a little finger, in the manner of an adept. “The connection is +intimate between the moral and physical feelings; but still, to +accomplish a cure, and restore nature to the healthy tone it has lost +from disease or accident, requires more than can flow from unguided +sympathies. In such cases, the lights—” the surgeon accidentally caught +the eye of the trooper and he paused. Taking two or three hasty puffs, +he essayed to finish the sentence, “In such cases, the knowledge that +flows from the lights—” + +“You were saying, sir,” said Colonel Wellmere, sipping his wine,— + +“The purport of my remark went to say,” continued Sitgreaves, turning +his back on Lawton, “that a bread poultice would not set a broken arm.” + +“More is the pity,” cried the trooper, “for next to eating, the +nourishment could not be more innocently applied.” + +“To you, Colonel Wellmere,” said the surgeon, “as a man of education, I +can with safety appeal.” The colonel bowed. “You must have observed the +dreadful havoc made in your ranks by the men who were led by this +gentleman”; the colonel looked grave, again; “how, when blows lighted +on their frames, life was invariably extinguished, beyond all hope of +scientific reparation; how certain yawning wounds were inflicted, that +must set at defiance the art of the most experienced practitioner; now, +sir, to you I triumphantly appeal, therefore, to know whether your +detachment would not have been as effectually defeated, if the men had +all lost a right arm, for instance, as if they had all lost their +heads.” + +“The triumph of your appeal is somewhat hasty, sir,” said Wellmere. + +“Is the cause of liberty advanced a step by such injudicious harshness +in the field?” continued the surgeon, bent on the favorite principle of +his life. + +“I am yet to learn that the cause of liberty is in any manner advanced +by the services of any gentleman in the rebel army,” rejoined the +colonel. + +“Not liberty! Good God, for what then are we contending?” + +“Slavery, sir; yes, even slavery; you are putting the tyranny of a mob +on the throne of a kind and lenient prince. Where is the consistency of +your boasted liberty?” + +“Consistency!” repeated the surgeon, looking about him a little wildly, +at hearing such sweeping charges against a cause he had so long thought +holy. + +“Aye, sir, your consistency. Your congress of sages have published a +manifesto, wherein they set forth the equality of political rights.” + +“’Tis true, and it is done most ably.” + +“I say nothing of its ability; but if true, why not set your slaves at +liberty?” This argument, which is thought by most of the colonel’s +countrymen a triumphant answer to a thousand eloquent facts, lost none +of its weight by the manner in which it was uttered. + +Every American feels humbled at the necessity of vindicating his +country from the apparent inconsistency and injustice of the laws +alluded to. His feelings are much like those of an honorable man who is +compelled to exonerate himself from a disgraceful charge, although he +may know the accusation to be false. At the bottom, Sitgreaves had much +good sense, and thus called on, he took up the cudgels of argument in +downright earnest. + +“We deem it a liberty to have the deciding voice in the councils by +which we are governed. We think it a hardship to be ruled by the king +of a people who live at a distance of three thousand miles, and who +cannot, and who do not, feel a single political interest in common with +ourselves. I say nothing of oppression; the child was of age, and was +entitled to the privileges of majority. In such cases, there is but one +tribunal to which to appeal for a nation’s rights—it is power, and we +now make the appeal.” + +“Such doctrines may suit your present purposes,” said Wellmere, with a +sneer; “but I apprehend it is opposed to all the opinions and practices +of civilized nations.” + +“It is in conformity with the practices of all nations,” said the +surgeon, returning the nod and smile of Lawton, who enjoyed the good +sense of his comrade as much as he disliked what he called “his medical +talk.” “Who would be ruled when he can rule? The only rational ground +to take is, that every community has a right to govern itself, so that +in no manner it violates the laws of God.” + +“And is holding your fellow creatures in bondage in conformity to those +laws?” asked the colonel, impressively. + +The surgeon took another glass, and hemming once, returned to the +combat. + +“Sir,” said he, “slavery is of very ancient origin, and it seems to +have been confined to no particular religion or form of government; +every nation of civilized Europe does, or has held their fellow +creatures in this kind of _duresse_.” + +“You will except Great Britain,” cried the colonel, proudly. + +“No, sir,” continued the surgeon, confidently, feeling that he was now +carrying the war out of his own country, “I cannot except Great +Britain. It was her children, her ships, and her laws, that first +introduced the practice into these states; and on her institutions the +judgment must fall. There is not a foot of ground belonging to England, +in which a negro would be useful, that has not its slave. England +herself has none, but England is overflowing with physical force, a +part of which she is obliged to maintain in the shape of paupers. The +same is true of France, and most other European countries. So long as +we were content to remain colonies, nothing was said of our system of +domestic slavery; but now, when we are resolute to obtain as much +freedom as the vicious system of metropolitan rule has left us, that +which is England’s gift has become our reproach. Will your master +liberate the slaves of his subjects should he succeed in subduing the +new states, or will he condemn the whites to the same servitude as that +in which he has been so long content to see the blacks? It is true, we +continue the practice; but we must come gradually to the remedy, or +create an evil greater than that which we endure at present. Doubtless, +as we advance, the manumission of our slaves will accompany us, until +happily these fair regions shall exist, without a single image of the +Creator that is held in a state which disqualifies him to judge of that +Creator’s goodness.” + +It will be remembered that Doctor Sitgreaves spoke forty years ago, and +Wellmere was unable to contradict his prophetic assertion. + +Finding the subject getting to be knotty, the Englishman retired to the +apartment in which the ladies had assembled; and, seated by the side of +Sarah, he found a more pleasing employment in relating the events of +fashionable life in the metropolis, and in recalling the thousand +little anecdotes of their former associates. Miss Peyton was a pleased +listener, as she dispensed the bounties of the tea table, and Sarah +frequently bowed her blushing countenance to her needlework, as her +face glowed at the flattering remarks of her companion. + +The dialogue we have related established a perfect truce between the +surgeon and his comrade; and the former having paid a visit to +Singleton, they took their leave of the ladies, and mounted; the former +to visit the wounded at the encampment, and the latter to rejoin his +troop. But their movements were arrested at the gate by an occurrence +that we shall relate in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +I see no more those white locks thinly spread +Round the bald polish of that honored head: +No more that meek, that suppliant look in prayer, +Nor that pure faith that gave it force, are there: +But he is blest, and I lament no more, +A wise good man, contented to be poor. + + +—CRABBE. + + +We have already said that the customs of America leave the dead but a +short time in sight of the mourners; and the necessity of providing for +his own safety had compelled the peddler to abridge even this brief +space. In the confusion and agitation produced by the events we have +recorded, the death of the elder Birch had occurred unnoticed; but a +sufficient number of the immediate neighbors were hastily collected, +and the ordinary rites of sepulture were now about to be paid to the +deceased. It was the approach of this humble procession that arrested +the movements of the trooper and his comrade. Four men supported the +body on a rude bier; and four others walked in advance, ready to +relieve their friends from their burden. The peddler walked next the +coffin, and by his side moved Katy Haynes, with a most determined +aspect of woe, and next to the mourners came Mr. Wharton and the +English captain. Two or three old men and women, with a few straggling +boys, brought up the rear. Captain Lawton sat in his saddle, in rigid +silence, until the bearers came opposite to his position, and then, for +the first time, Harvey raised his eyes from the ground, and saw the +enemy that he dreaded so near him. The first impulse of the peddler was +certainly flight; but recovering his recollection, he fixed his eye on +the coffin of his parent, and passed the dragoon with a firm step but +swelling heart. The trooper slowly lifted his cap, and continued +uncovered until Mr. Wharton and his son had moved by, when, accompanied +by the surgeon, he rode leisurely in the rear, maintaining an +inflexible silence. + +Caesar emerged from the cellar kitchen of the cottage, and with a face +of settled solemnity, added himself to the number of the followers of +the funeral, though with a humble mien and at a most respectful +distance from the horsemen. The old negro had placed around his arm, a +little above the elbow, a napkin of unsullied whiteness, it being the +only time since his departure from the city that he had enjoyed an +opportunity of exhibiting himself in the garniture of servile mourning. +He was a great lover of propriety, and had been a little stimulated to +this display by a desire to show his sable friend from Georgia all the +decencies of a New York funeral; and the ebullition of his zeal went +off very well, producing no other result than a mild lecture from Miss +Peyton at his return, on the fitness of things. The attendance of the +black was thought well enough in itself; but the napkin was deemed a +superfluous exhibition of ceremony, at the funeral of a man who had +performed all the menial offices in his own person. + +The graveyard was an inclosure on the grounds of Mr. Wharton, which had +been fenced with stone and set apart for the purpose, by that +gentleman, some years before. It was not, however, intended as a burial +place for any of his own family. Until the fire, which raged as the +British troops took possession of New York, had laid Trinity in ashes, +a goodly gilded tablet on its walls proclaimed the virtues of his +deceased parents, and beneath a flag of marble, in one of the aisles of +the church, their bones were left to molder in aristocratical repose. +Captain Lawton made a movement as if he was disposed to follow the +procession, when it left the highway, to enter the field which +contained the graves of the humble dead, but he was recalled to +recollection by a hint from his companion that he was taking the wrong +road. + +“Of all the various methods which have been adopted by man for the +disposal of his earthly remains, which do you prefer, Captain Lawton?” +said the surgeon, as they separated from the little procession. “In +some countries the body is exposed to be devoured by wild beasts; in +others it is suspended in the air to exhale its substance in the manner +of decomposition; in other regions it is consumed on the funeral pile, +and, again, it is inhumed in the bowels of the earth; every people have +their own particular fashion, and to which do you give the preference?” + +“All are agreeable,” said the trooper, following the group they had +left with his eyes; “though the speediest interments give the cleanest +fields. Of which are you an admirer?” + +“The last, as practiced by ourselves, for the other three are +destructive of all the opportunities for dissection; whereas, in the +last, the coffin can lie in peaceful decency, while the remains are +made to subserve the useful purposes of science. Ah! Captain Lawton, I +enjoy comparatively but few opportunities of such a nature, to what I +expected on entering the army.” + +“To what may these pleasures numerically amount in a year?” said the +captain, withdrawing his gaze from the graveyard. + +“Within a dozen, upon my honor; my best picking is when the corps is +detached; for when we are with the main army, there are so many boys to +be satisfied, that I seldom get a good subject. Those youngsters are as +wasteful as prodigals, and as greedy as vultures.” + +“A dozen!” echoed the trooper, in surprise. “Why, I furnish you that +number with my own hands.” + +“Ah! Jack,” returned the doctor, approaching the subject with great +tenderness of manner, “it is seldom I can do anything with your +patients; you disfigure them woefully. Believe me, John, when I tell +you as a friend that your system is all wrong; you unnecessarily +destroy life, and then you injure the body so that it is unfit for the +only use that can be made of a dead man.” + +The trooper maintained a silence, which he thought would be the most +probable means of preserving peace between them; and the surgeon, +turning his head from taking a last look at the burial, as they rode +around the foot of the hill that shut the valley from their sight, +continued with a suppressed sigh,— + +“One might get a natural death from that graveyard to-night, if there +was but time and opportunity! The patient must be the father of the +lady we saw this morning.” + +“The petticoat doctor!—she with the aurora borealis complexion,” said +the trooper, with a smile, that began to cause uneasiness to his +companion. “But the lady was not the gentleman’s daughter, only his +medico-petticoat attendant; and the Harvey, whose name was made to rime +with every word in her song, is the renowned peddler spy.” + +“What? He who unhorsed you?” + +“No man ever unhorsed me, Dr. Sitgreaves,” said the dragoon, gravely. +“I fell by mischance of Roanoke; rider and beast kissed the earth +together.” + +“A warm embrace, from the love spots it left on your cuticle; ’tis a +thousand pities that you cannot find where the tattling rascal lies +hid.” + +“He followed his father’s body.” + +“And you let him pass!” cried the surgeon, checking his horse. “Let us +return immediately, and take him; to-morrow you shall have him hanged, +Jack,—and, damn him, I’ll dissect him!” + +“Softly, softly, my dear Archibald. Would you arrest a man while paying +the last offices to a dead father? Leave him to me, and I pledge myself +he shall have justice.” + +The doctor muttered his dissatisfaction at any postponement of +vengeance, but he was compelled to acquiesce, from a regard to his +reputation for propriety; and they continued their ride to the quarters +of the corps, engaged in various discussions concerning the welfare of +the human body. + +Birch supported the grave and collected manner that was thought +becoming in a male mourner, on such occasions, and to Katy was left the +part of exhibiting the tenderness of the softer sex. There are some +people, whose feelings are of such nature that they cannot weep unless +it be in proper company, and the spinster was a good deal addicted to +this congregational virtue. After casting her eyes around the small +assemblage, the housekeeper found the countenances of the few females, +who were present, fixed on her in solemn expectation, and the effect +was instantaneous; the maiden really wept, and she gained no +inconsiderable sympathy, and some reputation for a tender heart, from +the spectators. The muscles of the peddler’s face were seen to move, +and as the first clod of earth fell on the tenement of his father, +sending up that dull, hollow sound that speaks so eloquently the +mortality of man, his whole frame was for an instant convulsed. He bent +his body down, as if in pain, his fingers worked while the hands hung +lifeless by his side, and there was an expression in his countenance +that seemed to announce a writhing of the soul; but it was not +unresisted, and it was transient. He stood erect, drew a long breath, +and looked around him with an elevated face, that even seemed to smile +with a consciousness of having obtained the mastery. The grave was soon +filled; a rough stone, placed at either extremity, marked its position, +and the turf, whose faded vegetation was adapted to the fortunes of the +deceased, covered the little hillock with the last office of +seemliness. This office ended, the neighbors, who had officiously +pressed forward to offer their services in performing their solemn +duty, paused, and lifting their hats, stood looking towards the +mourner, who now felt himself to be really alone in the world. +Uncovering his head also, the peddler hesitated a moment, to gather +energy, and spoke. + +“My friends and neighbors,” he said, “I thank you for assisting me to +bury my dead out of my sight.” + +A solemn pause succeeded the customary address, and the group dispersed +in silence, some few walking with the mourners back to their own +habitation, but respectfully leaving them at its entrance. The peddler +and Katy were followed into the building by one man, however, who was +well known to the surrounding country by the significant term of “a +speculator.” Katy saw him enter, with a heart that palpitated with +dreadful forebodings, but Harvey civilly handed him a chair, and +evidently was prepared for the visit. + +The peddler went to the door, and, taking a cautious glance about the +valley, quickly returned, and commenced the following dialogue:— + +“The sun has just left the top of the eastern hill; my time presses me: +here is the deed for the house and lot; everything is done according to +law.” + +The other took the paper, and conned its contents with a deliberation +that proceeded partly from his caution, and partly from the unlucky +circumstance of his education having been much neglected when a youth. +The time occupied in this tedious examination was employed by Harvey in +gathering together certain articles which he intended to include in the +stores that were to leave the habitation with himself. Katy had already +inquired of the peddler whether the deceased had left a will; and she +saw the Bible placed in the bottom of a new pack, which she had made +for his accommodation, with a most stoical indifference; but as the six +silver spoons were laid carefully by its side, a sudden twinge of her +conscience objected to such a palpable waste of property, and she broke +silence. + +“When you marry, Harvey, you may miss those spoons.” + +“I never shall marry.” + +“Well, if you don’t there’s no occasion to make rash promises, even to +yourself. One never knows what one may do, in such a case. I should +like to know, of what use so many spoons can be to a single man; for my +part, I think it is a duty for every man who is well provided, to have +a wife and family to maintain.” + +At the time when Katy expressed this sentiment, the fortune of women in +her class of life consisted of a cow, a bed, the labors of their own +hands in the shape of divers pillowcases, blankets, and sheets, with, +where fortune was unusually kind, a half dozen silver spoons. The +spinster herself had obtained all the other necessaries by her own +industry and prudence, and it can easily be imagined that she saw the +articles she had long counted her own vanish in the enormous pack, with +a dissatisfaction that was in no degree diminished by the declaration +that had preceded the act. Harvey, however, disregarded her opinions +and feelings, and continued his employment of filling the pack, which +soon grew to something like the ordinary size of the peddler’s burden. + +“I’m rather timersome about this conveyance,” said the purchaser, +having at length waded through the covenants of the deed. + +“Why so?” + +“I’m afraid it won’t stand good in law. I know that two of the +neighbors leave home to-morrow morning, to have the place entered for +confiscation; and if I should give forty pounds, and lose it all, +’twould be a dead pull back to me.” + +“They can only take my right,” said the peddler. “Pay me two hundred +dollars, and the house is yours; you are a well-known Whig, and you at +least they won’t trouble.” As Harvey spoke, there was a strange +bitterness of manner, mingled with the shrewd care he expressed +concerning the sale of his property. + +“Say one hundred, and it is a bargain,” returned the man, with a grin +that he meant for a good-natured smile. + +“A bargain!” echoed the peddler, in surprise. “I thought the bargain +already made.” + +“Nothing is a bargain,” said the purchaser, with a chuckle, “until +papers are delivered, and the money paid in hand.” + +“You have the paper.” + +“Aye, and will keep it, if you will excuse the money. Come, say one +hundred and fifty, and I won’t be hard; here—here is just the money.” + +The peddler looked from the window, and saw with dismay that the +evening was fast advancing, and knew well that he endangered his life +by remaining in the dwelling after dark; yet he could not tolerate the +idea of being defrauded in this manner, in a bargain that had already +been fairly made; he hesitated. + +“Well,” said the purchaser, rising, “mayhap you can find another man to +trade with between this and morning, but if you don’t, your title won’t +be worth much afterwards.” + +“Take it, Harvey,” said Katy, who felt it impossible to resist a tender +like the one before her; for the purchase money was in English guineas. +Her voice roused the peddler, and a new idea seemed to strike him. + +“I agree to the price,” he said; and, turning to the spinster, he +placed part of the money in her hand, as he continued, “Had I other +means to pay you, I would have lost all, rather than suffer myself to +be defrauded of part.” + +“You may lose all yet,” muttered the stranger, with a sneer, as he rose +and left the building. + +“Yes,” said Katy, following him with her eyes, “he knows your failing, +Harvey; he thinks with me, now the old gentleman is gone, you will want +a careful body to take care of your concerns.” + +The peddler was busied in making arrangements for his departure, and he +took no notice of this insinuation, while the spinster returned again +to the attack. She had lived so many years in expectation of a +termination to her hopes, so different from that which now seemed +likely to occur, that the idea of separation began to give her more +uneasiness than she had thought herself capable of feeling, about a man +so destitute and friendless. + +“Have you another house to go to?” inquired Katy. + +“Providence will provide me with a home.” + +“Yes,” said the housekeeper, “but maybe ’twill not be to your liking.” + +“The poor must not be difficult.” + +“I’m sure I’m anything but a difficult body,” cried the spinster, very +hastily; “but I love to see things becoming, and in their places; yet I +wouldn’t be hard to persuade to leave this place myself. I can’t say I +altogether like the ways of the people hereabouts.” + +“The valley is lovely,” said the peddler, with fervor, “and the people +like all the race of man. But to me it matters nothing; all places are +now alike, and all faces equally strange.” As he spoke he dropped the +article he was packing from his hand, and seated himself on a chest, +with a look of vacant misery. + +“Not so, not so,” said Katy, shoving her chair nearer to the place +where the peddler sat. “Not so, Harvey, you must know me at least; my +face cannot be strange to you.” + +Birch turned his eyes slowly on her countenance, which exhibited more +of feeling, and less of self, than he had ever seen there before; he +took her hand kindly, and his own features lost some of their painful +expression, as he said,— + +“Yes, good woman, you, at least, are not a stranger to me; you may do +me partial justice; when others revile me possibly your feelings may +lead you to say something in my defense.” + +“That I will; that I would!” said Katy, eagerly. “I will defend you, +Harvey, to the last drop; let me hear them that dare to revile you! You +say true, Harvey, I am partial and just to you; what if you do like the +king? I have often heard it said he was at the bottom a good man; but +there’s no religion in the old country, for everybody allows the +ministers are desperate bad!” + +The peddler paced the floor in evident distress of mind; his eyes had a +look of wildness that Katy had never witnessed before, and his step was +measured, with a dignity that appalled the housekeeper. + +“While my father lived,” murmured Harvey, unable to smother his +feelings, “there was one who read my heart, and oh! what a consolation +to return from my secret marches of danger, and the insults and wrongs +that I suffered, to receive his blessing and his praise; but he is +gone,” he continued, stopping and gazing wildly towards the corner that +used to hold the figure of his parent, “and who is there to do me +justice?” + +“Why, Harvey! Harvey!” + +“Yes, there is one who will, who must know me before I die! Oh! it is +dreadful to die, and leave such a name behind me.” + +“Don’t talk of dying, Harvey,” said the spinster, glancing her eye +around the room, and pushing the wood in the fire to obtain a light +from the blaze. + +The ebullition of feeling in the peddler was over. It had been excited +by the events of the past day, and a vivid perception of his +sufferings. It was not long, however, that passion maintained an +ascendency ever the reason of this singular man; and perceiving that +the night had already thrown an obscurity around objects without doors, +he hastily threw his pack over his shoulders, and taking Katy kindly by +the hand, in leavetaking,— + +“It is painful to part with even you, good woman,” he said, “but the +hour has come, and I must go. What is left in the house is yours; to me +it could be of no use, and it may serve to make you more comfortable. +Farewell—we shall meet hereafter.” + +“In the regions of darkness!” cried a voice that caused the peddler to +sink on the chest from which he had risen, in despair. + +“What! another pack, Mr. Birch, and so well stuffed so soon!” + +“Have you not done evil enough?” cried the peddler, regaining his +firmness, and springing on his feet with energy. “Is it not enough to +harass the last moments of a dying man—to impoverish me; what more +would you have?” + +“Your blood!” said the Skinner, with cool malignity. + +“And for money,” cried Harvey, bitterly. “Like the ancient Judas, you +would grow rich with the price of blood!” + +“Aye, and a fair price it is, my gentleman; fifty guineas; nearly the +weight of that carcass of yours in gold.” + +“Here,” said Katy, promptly, “here are fifteen guineas, and these +drawers and this bed are all mine; if you will give Harvey but one +hour’s start from the door, they shall be yours.” + +“One hour?” said the Skinner, showing his teeth, and looking with a +longing eye at the money. + +“But a single hour; here, take the money.” + +“Hold!” cried Harvey. “Put no faith in the miscreant.” + +“She may do what she pleases with her faith,” said the Skinner, with +malignant pleasure, “but I have the money in good keeping; as for you, +Mr. Birch, we will bear your insolence, for the fifty guineas that are +to pay for your gallows.” + +“Go on,” said the peddler, proudly; “take me to Major Dunwoodie; he, at +least, may be kind, although just.” + +“I can do better than by marching so far in such disgraceful company; +this Mr. Dunwoodie has let one or two Tories go at large; but the troop +of Captain Lawton is quartered some half mile nearer, and his receipt +will get me the reward as soon as his major’s. How relish you the idea +of supping with Captain Lawton, this evening, Mr. Birch?” + +“Give me my money, or set Harvey free,” cried the spinster in alarm. + +“Your bribe was not enough, good woman, unless there is money in this +bed.” Thrusting his bayonet through the ticking and ripping it for some +distance, he took a malicious satisfaction in scattering its contents +about the room. + +“If,” cried the housekeeper, losing sight of her personal danger in +care for her newly-acquired property, “there is law in the land, I will +be righted!” + +“The law of the neutral ground is the law of the strongest; but your +tongue is not as long as my bayonet; you had, therefore, best not set +them at loggerheads, or you might be the loser.” + +A figure stood in the shadow of the door, as if afraid to be seen in +the group of Skinners; but a blaze of light, raised by some articles +thrown in the fire by his persecutors, showed the peddler the face of +the purchaser of his little domain. Occasionally there was some +whispering between this man and the Skinner nearest him, that induced +Harvey to suspect he had been the dupe of a contrivance in which that +wretch had participated. It was, however, too late to repine; and he +followed the party from the house with a firm and collected tread, as +if marching to a triumph, and not to a gallows. In passing through the +yard, the leader of the band fell over a billet of wood, and received a +momentary hurt from the fall; exasperated at the incident, the fellow +sprang on his feet, filling the air with execrations. + +“The curse of heaven light on the log!” he exclaimed. “The night is too +dark for us to move in; throw that brand of fire in yon pile of tow, to +light up the scene.” + +“Hold!” roared the speculator; “you’ll fire the house.” + +“And see the farther,” said the other, hurling the brand in the midst +of the combustibles. In an instant the building was in flames. “Come +on; let us move towards the heights while we have light to pick our +road.” + +“Villain!” cried the exasperated purchaser, “is this your +friendship—this my reward for kidnapping the peddler?” + +“’Twould be wise to move more from the light, if you mean to entertain +us with abuse, or we may see too well to miss our mark,” cried the +leader of the gang. The next instant he was as good as his threat, but +happily missed the terrified speculator and equally appalled spinster, +who saw herself again reduced from comparative wealth to poverty, by +the blow. Prudence dictated to the pair a speedy retreat; and the next +morning, the only remains of the dwelling of the peddler was the huge +chimney we have already mentioned. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Trifles, light as air, +Are to the jealous confirmations strong +As proofs of holy writ. + + +—_Othello_. + + +The weather, which had been mild and clear since the storm, now changed +with the suddenness of the American climate. Towards evening the cold +blasts poured down from the mountains, and flurries of snow plainly +indicated that the month of November had arrived; a season whose +temperature varies from the heats of summer to the cold of winter. +Frances had stood at the window of her own apartment, watching the slow +progress of the funeral procession, with a melancholy that was too deep +to be excited by the spectacle. There was something in the sad office +that was in unison with her feelings. As she gazed around, she saw the +trees bending to the force of the wind, that swept through the valley +with an impetuosity that shook even the buildings; and the forest, that +had so lately glittered in the sun with its variegated hues, was fast +losing its loveliness, as the leaves were torn from the branches, and +were driving irregularly before the eddies of the blast. A few of the +Southern dragoons, who were patrolling the passes which led to the +encampment of the corps, could be distinguished at a distance on the +heights, bending to their pommels as they faced the keen air which had +so lately traversed the great fresh-water lakes, and drawing their +watch coats about them in tighter folds. + +Frances witnessed the disappearance of the wooden tenement of the +deceased, as it was slowly lowered from the light of day; and the sight +added to the chilling dreariness of the view. Captain Singleton was +sleeping under the care of his own man, while his sister had been +persuaded to take possession of her room, for the purpose of obtaining +the repose of which her last night’s journeying had robbed her. The +apartment of Miss Singleton communicated with the room occupied by the +sisters, through a private door, as well as through the ordinary +passage of the house; this door was partly open, and Frances moved +towards it, with the benevolent intention of ascertaining the situation +of her guest, when the surprised girl saw her whom she had thought to +be sleeping, not only awake, but employed in a manner that banished all +probability of present repose. The black tresses, that during the +dinner had been drawn in close folds over the crown of the head, were +now loosened, and fell in profusion over her shoulders and bosom, +imparting a slight degree of wildness to her countenance; the chilling +white of her complexion was strongly contrasted with eyes of the +deepest black, that were fixed in rooted attention on a picture she +held in her hand. Frances hardly breathed, as she was enabled, by a +movement of Isabella, to see that it was the figure of a man in the +well-known dress of the Southern horse; but she gasped for breath, and +instinctively laid her hand on her heart to quell its throbbings, as +she thought she recognized the lineaments that were so deeply seated in +her own imagination. Frances felt she was improperly prying into the +sacred privacy of another; but her emotions were too powerful to permit +her to speak, and she drew back to a chair, where she still retained a +view of the stranger, from whose countenance she felt it to be +impossible to withdraw her eyes. Isabella was too much engrossed by her +own feelings to discover the trembling figure of the witness to her +actions, and she pressed the inanimate image to her lips, with an +enthusiasm that denoted the most intense passion. The expression of the +countenance of the fair stranger was so changeable, and the transitions +were so rapid, that Frances had scarcely time to distinguish the +character of the emotion, before it was succeeded by another, equally +powerful and equally attractive. Admiration and sorrow were however the +preponderating passions; the latter was indicated by large drops that +fell from her eyes on the picture, and which followed each other over +her cheek at such intervals, as seemed to pronounce the grief too heavy +to admit of the ordinary demonstrations of sorrow. Every movement of +Isabella was marked by an enthusiasm that was peculiar to her nature, +and every passion in its turn triumphed in her breast. The fury of the +wind, as it whistled round the angles of the building, was in +consonance with those feelings, and she rose and moved to a window of +her apartment. Her figure was now hid from the view of Frances, who was +about to rise and approach her guest, when tones of a thrilling melody +chained her in breathless silence to the spot. The notes were wild, and +the voice not powerful, but the execution exceeded anything that +Frances had ever heard; and she stood, endeavoring to stifle the sounds +of her own gentle breathing, until the following song was concluded:— + +Cold blow the blasts o’er the tops of the mountain, + And bare is the oak on the hill; +Slowly the vapors exhale from the fountain, + And bright gleams the ice-bordered rill; +All nature is seeking its annual rest, +But the slumbers of peace have deserted my breast. + +Long has the storm poured its weight on my nation, + And long have her braves stood the shock; +Long has her chieftain ennobled his station, + A bulwark on liberty’s rock; +Unlicensed ambition relaxes its toil, +Yet blighted affection represses my smile. + +Abroad the wild fury of winter is lowering, + And leafless and drear is the tree; +But the vertical sun of the south appears pouring + Its fierce, killing heats upon me: +Without, all the season’s chill symptoms begin— +But the fire of passion is raging within. + + +Frances abandoned her whole soul to the suppressed melody of the music, +though the language of the song expressed a meaning, which, united with +certain events of that and the preceding day, left a sensation of +uneasiness in the bosom of the warm-hearted girl, to which she had +hitherto been a stranger. Isabella moved from the window as her last +tones melted on the ear of her admiring listener, and, for the first +time, her eye rested on the pallid face of the intruder. A glow of fire +lighted the countenance of both at the same instant, and the blue eye +of Frances met the brilliant black one of her guest for a single +moment, and both fell in abashed confusion on the carpet; they +advanced, however, until they met, and had taken each other’s hand, +before either ventured again to look her companion in the face. + +“This sudden change in the weather, and perhaps the situation of my +brother, have united to make me melancholy, Miss Wharton,” said +Isabella, in a low tone, and in a voice that trembled as she spoke. + +“’Tis thought you have little to apprehend for your brother,” said +Frances, in the same embarrassed manner. “Had you seen him when he was +brought in by Major Dunwoodie—” + +Frances paused, with a feeling of conscious shame, for which she could +not account; and, in raising her eyes, she saw Isabella studying her +countenance with an earnestness that again drove the blood tumultuously +to her temples. + +“You were speaking of Major Dunwoodie,” said Isabella, faintly. + +“He was with Captain Singleton.” + +“Do you know Dunwoodie? Have you seen him often?” + +Once more Frances ventured to look her guest in the face, and again she +met the piercing eyes bent on her, as if to search her inmost heart. +“Speak, Miss Wharton; is Major Dunwoodie known to you?” + +“He is my relative,” said Frances, appalled at the manner of the other. + +“A relative!” echoed Miss Singleton; “in what degree?—speak, Miss +Wharton, I conjure you to speak.” + +“Our parents were cousins,” faintly replied Frances. + +“And he is to be your husband?” said the stranger, impetuously. + +Frances felt shocked, and all her pride awakened, by this direct attack +upon her feelings, and she raised her eyes from the floor to her +interrogator a little proudly, when the pale cheek and quivering lip of +Isabella removed her resentment in a moment. + +“It is true! My conjecture is true! Speak to me, Miss Wharton; I +conjure you, in mercy to my feelings, to tell me—do you love +Dunwoodie?” There was a plaintive earnestness in the voice of Miss +Singleton that disarmed Frances of all resentment, and the only answer +she could make was to hide her burning face between her hands, as she +sank back in a chair to conceal her confusion. + +Isabella paced the floor in silence for several minutes, until she had +succeeded in conquering the violence of her feelings, when she +approached the place where Frances yet sat, endeavoring to exclude the +eyes of her companion from reading the shame expressed in her +countenance, and, taking the hand of the other, she spoke with an +evident effort at composure. + +“Pardon me, Miss Wharton, if my ungovernable feelings have led me into +impropriety; the powerful motive—the cruel reason”—she hesitated. +Frances now raised her face, and their eyes once more met; they fell in +each other’s arms, and laid their burning cheeks together. The embrace +was long—was ardent and sincere—but neither spoke; and on separating, +Frances retired to her own room without further explanation. + +While this extraordinary scene was acting in the room of Miss +Singleton, matters of great importance were agitated in the +drawing-room. The disposition of the fragments of such a dinner as the +one we have recorded was a task that required no little exertion and +calculation. Notwithstanding several of the small game had nestled in +the pocket of Captain Lawton’s man, and even the assistant of Dr. +Sitgreaves had calculated the uncertainty of his remaining long in such +good quarters, still there was more left unconsumed than the prudent +Miss Peyton knew how to dispose of to advantage. Caesar and his +mistress had, therefore, a long and confidential communication on this +important business; and the consequence was, that Colonel Wellmere was +left to the hospitality of Sarah Wharton. All the ordinary topics of +conversation were exhausted, when the colonel, with a little of the +uneasiness that is in some degree inseparable from conscious error, +touched lightly on the transactions of the preceding day. + +“We little thought, Miss Wharton, when I first saw this Mr. Dunwoodie +in your house in Queen Street, that he was to be the renowned warrior +he has proved himself,” said Wellmere, endeavoring to smile away his +chagrin. + +“Renowned, when we consider the enemy he overcame,” said Sarah, with +consideration for her companion’s feelings. “’Twas unfortunate, indeed, +in every respect, that you met with the accident, or doubtless the +royal arms would have triumphed in their usual manner.” + +“And yet the pleasure of such society as this accident has introduced +me to, would more than repay the pain of a mortified spirit and wounded +body,” added the colonel, in a manner of peculiar softness. + +“I hope the latter is but trifling,” said Sarah, stooping to hide her +blushes under the pretext of biting a thread from the work on her knee. + +“Trifling, indeed, compared to the former,” returned the colonel, in +the same manner. “Ah! Miss Wharton, it is in such moments that we feel +the full value of friendship and sympathy.” + +Those who have never tried it cannot easily imagine what a rapid +progress a warm-hearted female can make in love, in the short space of +half an hour, particularly where there is a predisposition to the +distemper. Sarah found the conversation, when it began to touch on +friendship and sympathy, too interesting to venture her voice with a +reply. She, however, turned her eyes on the colonel, and saw him gazing +at her fine face with an admiration that was quite as manifest, and +much more soothing, than any words could make it. + +Their tête-à-tête was uninterrupted for an hour; and although nothing +that would be called decided, by an experienced matron, was said by the +gentleman, he uttered a thousand things that delighted his companion, +who retired to her rest with a lighter heart than she had felt since +the arrest of her brother by the Americans. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +And let me the canakin clink, clink, +And let me the canakin clink. +A soldier’s a man; +A life’s but a span; +Why, then, let a soldier drink. + + +—_Othello_. + + +The position held by the corps of dragoons, we have already said, was a +favorite place of halting with their commander. A cluster of some half +dozen small and dilapidated buildings formed what, from the +circumstance of two roads intersecting each other at right angles, was +called the village of the Four Corners. As usual, one of the most +imposing of these edifices had been termed, in the language of the day, +“a house of entertainment for man and beast.” On a rough board +suspended from the gallows-looking post that had supported the ancient +sign, was, however, written in red chalk, “Elizabeth Flanagan, her +hotel,” an ebullition of the wit of some of the idle wags of the corps. +The matron, whose name had thus been exalted to an office of such +unexpected dignity, ordinarily discharged the duties of a female +sutler, washerwoman, and, to use the language of Katy Haynes, petticoat +doctor to the troops. She was the widow of a soldier who had been +killed in the service, and who, like herself, was a native of a distant +island, and had early tried his fortune in the colonies of North +America. She constantly migrated with the troops; and it was seldom +that they became stationary for two days at a time but the little cart +of the bustling woman was seen driving into the encampment loaded with +such articles as she conceived would make her presence most welcome. +With a celerity that seemed almost supernatural, Betty took up her +ground and commenced her occupation. Sometimes the cart itself was her +shop; at others the soldiers made her a rude shelter of such materials +as offered; but on the present occasion she had seized on a vacant +building, and, by dint of stuffing the dirty breeches and half-dried +linen of the troopers into the broken windows, to exclude the cold, +which had now become severe, she formed what she herself had pronounced +to be “most illigant lodgings.” The men were quartered in the adjacent +barns, and the officers collected in the “Hotel Flanagan,” as they +facetiously called headquarters. Betty was well known to every trooper +in the corps, could call each by his Christian or nickname, as best +suited her fancy; and, although absolutely intolerable to all whom +habit had not made familiar with her virtues, was a general favorite +with these partisan warriors. Her faults were, a trifling love of +liquor, excessive filthiness, and a total disregard of all the +decencies of language; her virtues, an unbounded love for her adopted +country, perfect honesty when dealing on certain known principles with +the soldiery, and great good nature. Added to these, Betty had the +merit of being the inventor of that beverage which is so well known, at +the present hour, to all the patriots who make a winter’s march between +the commercial and political capitals of this great state, and which is +distinguished by the name of “cocktail.” Elizabeth Flanagan was +peculiarly well qualified, by education and circumstances, to perfect +this improvement in liquors, having been literally brought up on its +principal ingredient, and having acquired from her Virginian customers +the use of mint, from its flavor in a julep to its height of renown in +the article in question. Such, then, was the mistress of the mansion, +who, reckless of the cold northern blasts, showed her blooming face +from the door of the building to welcome the arrival of her favorite, +Captain Lawton, and his companion, her master in matters of surgery. + +“Ah! by my hopes of promotion, my gentle Elizabeth, but you are +welcome!” cried the trooper, as he threw himself from his saddle. “This +villainous fresh-water gas from the Canadas has been whistling among my +bones till they ache with the cold, but the sight of your fiery +countenance is as cheery as a Christmas fire.” + +“Now sure, Captain Jack, ye’s always full of your complimentaries,” +replied the sutler, taking the bridle of her customer. “But hurry in +for the life of you, darling; the fences hereabouts are not so strong +as in the Highlands, and there’s that within will warm both sowl and +body.” + +“So you have been laying the rails under contribution, I see. Well, +that may do for the body,” said the captain coolly; “but I have had a +pull at a bottle of cut glass with a silver stand, and I doubt my +relish for your whisky for a month to come.” + +“If it’s silver or goold that ye’re thinking of, it’s but little I +have, though I’ve a trifling bit of the continental,” said Betty, with +a look of humor; “but there’s that within that’s fit to be put in +vissils of di’monds.” + +“What can she mean, Archibald?” asked Lawton. “The animal looks as if +it meant more than it says!” + +“’Tis probably a wandering of the reasoning powers, created by the +frequency of intoxicating drafts,” observed the surgeon, as he +deliberately threw his left leg over the pommel of the saddle, and slid +down on the right side of his horse. + +“Faith, my dear jewel of a doctor, but it was this side I was expicting +you; the whole corps come down on this side but yeerself,” said Betty, +winking at the trooper; “but I’ve been feeding the wounded, in yeer +absence, with the fat of the land.” + +“Barbarous stupidity!” cried the panic-stricken physician, “to feed men +laboring under the excitement of fever with powerful nutriment. Woman, +woman, you are enough to defeat the skill of Hippocrates!” + +“Pooh!” said Betty, with infinite composure, “what a botheration ye +make about a little whisky; there was but a gallon betwixt a good dozen +of them, and I gave it to the boys to make them sleep asy; sure, jist +as slumbering drops.” + +Lawton and his companion now entered the building, and the first +objects which met their eyes explained the hidden meaning of Betty’s +comfortable declaration. A long table, made of boards torn from the +side of an outbuilding, was stretched through the middle of the largest +apartment, or the barroom, and on it was a very scanty display of +crockery ware. The steams of cookery arose from an adjoining kitchen, +but the principal attraction was in a demijohn of fair proportions, +which had been ostentatiously placed on high by Betty as the object +most worthy of notice. Lawton soon learned that it was teeming with the +real amber-colored juice of the grape, and had been sent from the +Locusts, as an offering to Major Dunwoodie, from his friend Captain +Wharton of the royal army. + +“And a royal gift it is,” said the grinning subaltern, who made the +explanation. “The major gives us an entertainment in honor of our +victory, and you see the principal expense is borne as it should be, by +the enemy. Zounds! I am thinking that after we have primed with such +stuff, we could charge through Sir Henry’s headquarters, and carry off +the knight himself.” + +The captain of dragoons was in no manner displeased at the prospect of +terminating so pleasantly a day that had been so agreeably commenced. +He was soon surrounded by his comrades, who made many eager inquiries +concerning his adventures, while the surgeon proceeded, with certain +quakings of the heart, to examine into the state of his wounded. +Enormous fires were snapping in the chimneys of the house, superseding +the necessity of candles, by the bright light which was thrown from the +blazing piles. The group within were all young men and tried soldiers; +in number they were rather more than a dozen, and their manners and +conversation were a strange mixture of the bluntness of the partisan +with the manners of gentlemen. Their dresses were neat, though plain; +and a never-failing topic amongst them was the performance and quality +of their horses. Some were endeavoring to sleep on the benches which +lined the walls, some were walking the apartments, and others were +seated in earnest discussion on subjects connected with the business of +their lives. Occasionally, as the door of the kitchen opened, the +hissing sounds of the frying pans and the inviting savor of the food +created a stagnation in all other employments; even the sleepers, at +such moments, would open their eyes, and raise their heads, to +reconnoiter the state of the preparations. All this time Dunwoodie sat +by himself, gazing at the fire, and lost in reflections which none of +his officers presumed to disturb. He had made earnest inquiries of +Sitgreaves after the condition of Singleton, during which a profound +and respectful silence was maintained in the room; but as soon as he +had ended, and resumed his seat, the usual ease and freedom prevailed. + +The arrangement of the table was a matter of but little concern to Mrs. +Flanagan; and Caesar would have been sadly scandalized at witnessing +the informality with which various dishes, each bearing a wonderful +resemblance to the others, were placed before so many gentlemen of +consideration. In taking their places at the board, the strictest +attention was paid to precedency; for, notwithstanding the freedom of +manners which prevailed in the corps, the points of military etiquette +were at all times observed, with something approaching to religious +veneration. Most of the guests had been fasting too long to be in any +degree fastidious in their appetites; but the case was different with +Captain Lawton; he felt an unaccountable loathing at the exhibition of +Betty’s food, and could not refrain from making a few passing comments +on the condition of the knives, and the clouded aspect of the plates. +The good nature and the personal affection of Betty for the offender, +restrained her, for some time, from answering his innuendoes, until +Lawton, having ventured to admit a piece of the black meat into his +mouth, inquired, with the affectation of a spoiled child,— + +“What kind of animal might this have been when living, Mrs. Flanagan?” + +“Sure, captain, and wasn’t it the ould cow?” replied the sutler, with a +warmth that proceeded partly from dissatisfaction at the complaints of +her favorite, and partly from grief at the loss of the deceased. + +“What!” roared the trooper, stopping short as he was about to swallow +his morsel, “ancient Jenny!” + +“The devil!” cried another, dropping his knife and fork, “she who made +the campaign of the Jerseys with us?” + +“The very same,” replied the mistress of the hotel, with a piteous +aspect of woe; “a gentle baste, and one that could and did live on less +than air, at need. Sure, gentlemen, ’tis awful to have to eat sitch an +ould friend.” + +“And has she sunk to this?” said Lawton, pointing with his knife, to +the remnants on the table. + +“Nay, captain,” said Betty, with spirit, “I sould two of her quarters +to some of your troop; but divil the word did I tell the boys what an +ould frind it was they had bought, for fear it might damage their +appetites.” + +“Fury!” cried the trooper, with affected anger, “I shall have my +fellows as limber as supple-jacks on such fare; afraid of an Englishman +as a Virginian negro is of his driver.” + +“Well,” said Lieutenant Mason, dropping his knife and fork in a kind of +despair, “my jaws have more sympathy than many men’s hearts. They +absolutely decline making any impression on the relics of their old +acquaintance.” + +“Try a drop of the gift,” said Betty, soothingly, pouring a large +allowance of the wine into a bowl, and drinking it off as taster to the +corps. “Faith, ’tis but a wishy-washy sort of stuff after all!” + +The ice once broken, however, a clear glass of wine was handed to +Dunwoodie, who, bowing to his companions, drank the liquor in the midst +of a profound silence. For a few glasses there was much formality +observed, and sundry patriotic toasts and sentiments were duly noticed +by the company. The liquor, however, performed its wonted office; and +before the second sentinel at the door had been relieved, all +recollection of the dinner and their cares was lost in the present +festivity. Dr. Sitgreaves did not return in season to partake of Jenny, +but he was in time to receive his fair proportion of Captain Wharton’s +present. + +“A song, a song from Captain Lawton!” cried two or three of the party +in a breath, on observing the failure of some of the points of +good-fellowship in the trooper. “Silence, for the song of Captain +Lawton.” + +“Gentlemen,” returned Lawton, his dark eyes swimming with the bumpers +he had finished, though his head was as impenetrable as a post; “I am +not much of a nightingale, but, under the favor of your good wishes, I +consent to comply with the demand.” + +“Now, Jack,” said Sitgreaves, nodding on his seat, “remember the air I +taught you, and—stop, I have a copy of the words in my pocket.” + +“Forbear, forbear, good doctor,” said the trooper, filling his glass +with great deliberation; “I never could wheel round those hard names. +Gentlemen, I will give you a humble attempt of my own.” + +“Silence, for Captain Lawton’s song!” roared five or six at once; when +the trooper proceeded, in a fine, full tone, to sing the following +words to a well-known bacchanalian air, several of his comrades helping +him through the chorus with a fervor that shook the crazy edifice they +were in:— + +Now push the mug, my jolly boys, + And live, while live we can; +To-morrow’s sun may end your joys, + For brief’s the hour of man. +And he who bravely meets the foe +His lease of life can never know. + Old mother Flanagan + Come and fill the can again! + For you can fill, and we can swill, + Good Betty Flanagan. + +If love of life pervades your breast, + Or love of ease your frame, +Quit honor’s path for peaceful rest, + And bear a coward’s name; +For soon and late, we danger know, +And fearless on the saddle go. + Old mother, etc. + +When foreign foes invade the land, + And wives and sweethearts call, +In freedom’s cause we’ll bravely stand + Or will as bravely fall; +In this fair home the fates have given +We’ll live as lords, or live in heaven. + Old mother, etc. + + +At each appeal made to herself, by the united voices of the choir, +Betty invariably advanced and complied literally with the request +contained in the chorus, to the infinite delight of the singers, and +with no small participation in the satisfaction on her account. The +hostess was provided with a beverage more suited to the high seasoning +to which she had accustomed her palate, than the tasteless present of +Captain Wharton; by which means Betty had managed, with tolerable +facility, to keep even pace with the exhilaraton of her guests. The +applause received by Captain Lawton was general, with the exception of +the surgeon, who rose from the bench during the first chorus, and paced +the floor, in a flow of classical indignation. The bravos and +bravissimos drowned all other noises for a short time; but as they +gradually ceased, the doctor turned to the musician, and exclaimed with +heat,— + +“Captain Lawton, I marvel that a gentleman, and a gallant officer, can +find no other subject for his muse, in these times of trial, than in +such beastly invocations to that notorious follower of the camp, the +filthy Elizabeth Flanagan. Methinks the goddess of Liberty could +furnish a more noble inspiration, and the sufferings of your country a +more befitting theme.” + +“Heyday!” shouted the hostess, advancing towards him in a threatening +attitude; “and who is it that calls me filthy? Master Squirt! Master +Popgun—” + +“Peace!” said Dunwoodie, in a voice that was exerted but a little more +than common, but which was succeeded by the stillness of death. “Woman, +leave the room. Dr. Sitgreaves, I call you to your seat, to wait the +order of the revels.” + +“Proceed, proceed,” said the surgeon, drawing himself up in an attitude +of dignified composure. “I trust, Major Dunwoodie, I am not +unacquainted with the rules of decorum, nor ignorant of the by-laws of +good-fellowship.” Betty made a hasty but somewhat devious retreat to +her own dominions, being unaccustomed to dispute the orders of the +commanding officer. + +“Major Dunwoodie will honor us with a sentimental song,” said Lawton, +bowing to his leader, with the collected manner he so well knew how to +assume. + +The major hesitated a moment, and then sang, with fine execution, the +following words:— + +Some love the heats of southern suns, +Where’s life’s warm current maddening runs, + In one quick circling stream; +But dearer far’s the mellow light +Which trembling shines, reflected bright + In Luna’s milder beam. + +Some love the tulip’s gaudier dyes, +Where deepening blue with yellow vies, + And gorgeous beauty glows; +But happier he, whose bridal wreath, +By love entwined, is found to breathe + The sweetness of the rose. + + +The voice of Dunwoodie never lost its authority with his inferiors; and +the applause which followed his song, though by no means so riotous as +that which succeeded the effort of the captain, was much more +flattering. + +“If, sir,” said the doctor, after joining in the plaudits of his +companions, “you would but learn to unite classical allusions with your +delicate imagination you would become a pretty amateur poet.” + +“He who criticizes ought to be able to perform,” said Dunwoodie with a +smile. “I call on Dr. Sitgreaves for a specimen of the style he +admires.” + +“Dr. Sitgreaves’ song! Dr. Sitgreaves’ song!” echoed all at the table +with delight; “a classical ode from Dr. Sitgreaves!” + +The surgeon made a complacent bow, took the remnant of his glass, and +gave a few preliminary hems, that served hugely to delight three or +four young cornets at the foot of the table. He then commenced singing, +in a cracked voice, and to anything but a tune, the following ditty:— + +Hast thou ever felt love’s dart, dearest, + Or breathed his trembling sigh— +Thought him, afar, was ever nearest, + Before that sparkling eye? +Then hast thou known what ’tis to feel +The pain that Galen could not heal. + + +“Hurrah!” shouted Lawton. “Archibald eclipses the Muses themselves; his +words flow like the sylvan stream by moonlight, and his melody is a +crossbreed of the nightingale and the owl.” + +“Captain Lawton,” cried the exasperated operator, “it is one thing to +despise the lights of classical learning, and another to be despised +for your own ignorance!” + +A loud summons at the door of the building created a dead halt in the +uproar, and the dragoons instinctively caught up their arms, to be +prepared for the worst. The door was opened, and the Skinners entered, +dragging in the peddler, bending beneath the load of his pack. + +“Which is Captain Lawton?” said the leader of the gang, gazing around +him in some little astonishment. + +“He waits your pleasure,” said the trooper dryly. + +“Then here I deliver to your hands a condemned traitor. This is Harvey +Birch, the peddler spy.” + +Lawton started as he looked his old acquaintance in the face, and, +turning to the Skinner with a lowering look, he asked,— + +“And who are you, sir, that speak so freely of your neighbors? But,” +bowing to Dunwoodie, “your pardon, sir; here is the commanding officer; +to him you will please address yourself.” + +“No,” said the man, sullenly, “it is to you I deliver the peddler, and +from you I claim my reward.” + +“Are you Harvey Birch?” said Dunwoodie, advancing with an air of +authority that instantly drove the Skinner to a corner of the room. + +“I am,” said Birch, proudly. + +“And a traitor to your country,” continued the major, with sternness. +“Do you know that I should be justified in ordering your execution this +night?” + +“’Tis not the will of God to call a soul so hastily to His presence,” +said the peddler with solemnity. + +“You speak truth,” said Dunwoodie; “and a few brief hours shall be +added to your life. But as your offense is most odious to a soldier, so +it will be sure to meet with the soldier’s vengeance. You die +to-morrow.” + +“’Tis as God wills.” + +“I have spent many a good hour to entrap the villain,” said the +Skinner, advancing a little from his corner, “and I hope you will give +me a certificate that will entitle us to the reward; ’twas promised to +be paid in gold.” + +“Major Dunwoodie,” said the officer of the day, entering the room, “the +patrols report a house to be burned near yesterday’s battle ground.” + +“’Twas the hut of the peddler,” muttered the leader of the gang. “We +have not left him a shingle for shelter; I should have burned it months +ago, but I wanted his shed for a trap to catch the sly fox in.” + +“You seem a most ingenious patriot,” said Lawton. “Major Dunwoodie, I +second the request of this worthy gentleman, and crave the office of +bestowing the reward on him and his fellows.” + +“Take it; and you, miserable man, prepare for that fate which will +surely befall you before the setting of to-morrow’s sun.” + +“Life offers but little to tempt me with,” said Harvey, slowly raising +his eyes, and gazing wildly at the strange faces in the apartment. + +“Come, worthy children of America!” said Lawton, “follow, and receive +your reward.” + +The gang eagerly accepted the invitation, and followed the captain +towards the quarters assigned to his troop. Dunwoodie paused a moment, +from reluctance to triumph over a fallen foe, before he proceeded. + +“You have already been tried, Harvey Birch; and the truth has proved +you to be an enemy too dangerous to the liberties of America to be +suffered to live.” + +“The truth!” echoed the peddler, starting, and raising himself in a +manner that disregarded the weight of his pack. + +“Aye! the truth; you are charged with loitering near the continental +army, to gain intelligence of its movements, and, by communicating them +to the enemy, to enable him to frustrate the intentions of Washington.” + +“Will Washington say so, think you?” + +“Doubtless he would; even the justice of Washington condemns you.” + +“No, no, no,” cried the peddler, in a voice and with a manner that +startled Dunwoodie. “Washington can see beyond the hollow views of +pretended patriots. Has he not risked his all on the cast of a die? If +a gallows is ready for me, was there not one for him also? No, no, no, +no—Washington would never say, ‘Lead him to a gallows.’” + +“Have you anything, wretched man, to urge to the commander in chief why +you should not die?” said the major, recovering from the surprise +created by the manner of the other. + +Birch trembled, for violent emotions were contending in his bosom. His +face assumed the ghastly paleness of death, and his hand drew a box of +tin from the folds of his shirt; he opened it, showing by the act that +it contained a small piece of paper. On this document his eye was for +an instant fixed—he had already held it towards Dunwoodie, when +suddenly withdrawing his hand he exclaimed,— + +“No—it dies with me. I know the conditions of my service, and will not +purchase life with their forfeiture—it dies with me.” + +“Deliver that paper, and you may possibly find favor,” cried Dunwoodie, +expecting a discovery of importance to the cause. + +“It dies with me,” repeated Birch, a flush passing over his pallid +features, and lighting them with extraordinary brilliancy. + +“Seize the traitor!” cried the major, “and wrest the secret from his +hands.” + +The order was immediately obeyed; but the movements of the peddler were +too quick; in an instant he swallowed the paper. The officers paused in +astonishment; but the surgeon cried eagerly,— + +“Hold him, while I administer an emetic.” + +“Forbear!” said Dunwoodie, beckoning him back with his hand. “If his +crime is great, so will his punishment be heavy.” + +“Lead on,” cried the peddler, dropping his pack from his shoulders, and +advancing towards the door with a manner of incomprehensible dignity. + +“Whither?” asked Dunwoodie, in amazement. + +“To the gallows.” + +“No,” said the major, recoiling in horror at his own justice. “My duty +requires that I order you to be executed, but surely not so hastily; +take until nine to-morrow to prepare for the awful change.” + +Dunwoodie whispered his orders in the ear of a subaltern, and motioned +to the peddler to withdraw. The interruption caused by this scene +prevented further enjoyment around the table, and the officers +dispersed to their several places of rest. In a short time the only +noise to be heard was the heavy tread of the sentinel, as he paced the +frozen ground in front of the Hotel Flanagan. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +There are, whose changing lineaments +Express each guileless passion of the breast; +Where Love, and Hope, and tender-hearted Pity +Are seen reflected, as from a mirror’s face; +But cold experience can veil these hues +With looks, invented shrewdly to encompass +The cunning purposes of base deceit. + + +—Duo. + + +The officer to whose keeping Dunwoodie had committed the peddler +transferred his charge to the custody of the regular sergeant of the +guard. The gift of Captain Wharton had not been lost on the youthful +lieutenant; and a certain dancing motion that had taken possession of +objects before his eyes, gave him warning of the necessity of +recruiting nature by sleep. After admonishing the noncommissioned +guardian of Harvey to omit no watchfulness in securing the prisoner, +the youth wrapped himself in his cloak, and, stretched on a bench +before a fire, soon found the repose he needed. A rude shed extended +the whole length of the rear of the building, and from off one of its +ends had been partitioned a small apartment, that was intended as a +repository for many of the lesser implements of husbandry. The lawless +times had, however, occasioned its being stripped of everything of +value; and the searching eyes of Betty Flanagan selected this spot, on +her arrival, as the storehouse for her movables and a sanctuary for her +person. The spare arms and baggage of the corps had also been deposited +here; and the united treasures were placed under the eye of the +sentinel who paraded the shed as a guardian of the rear of the +headquarters. A second soldier, who was stationed near the house to +protect the horses of the officers, could command a view of the outside +of the apartment; and, as it was without window or outlet of any kind, +excepting its door, the considerate sergeant thought this the most +befitting place in which to deposit his prisoner until the moment of +his execution. Several inducements urged Sergeant Hollister to this +determination, among which was the absence of the washerwoman, who lay +before the kitchen fire, dreaming that the corps was attacking a party +of the enemy, and mistaking the noise that proceeded from her own nose +for the bugles of the Virginians sounding the charge. Another was the +peculiar opinions that the veteran entertained of life and death, and +by which he was distinguished in the corps as a man of most exemplary +piety and holiness of life. The sergeant was more than fifty years of +age, and for half that period he had borne arms. The constant +recurrence of sudden deaths before his eyes had produced an effect on +him differing greatly from that which was the usual moral consequence +of such scenes; and he had become not only the most steady, but the +most trustworthy soldier in his troop. Captain Lawton had rewarded his +fidelity by making him its orderly. + +Followed by Birch, the sergeant proceeded in silence to the door of the +intended prison, and, throwing it open with one hand, he held a lantern +with the other to light the peddler to his prison. Seating himself on a +cask, that contained some of Betty’s favorite beverage, the sergeant +motioned to Birch to occupy another, in the same manner. The lantern +was placed on the floor, when the dragoon, after looking his prisoner +steadily in the face, observed,— + +“You look as if you would meet death like a man; and I have brought you +to a spot where you can tranquilly arrange your thoughts, and be quiet +and undisturbed.” + +“’Tis a fearful place to prepare for the last change in,” said Harvey, +gazing around his little prison with a vacant eye. + +“Why, for the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “it can reckon but +little in the great account, where a man parades his thoughts for the +last review, so that he finds them fit to pass the muster of another +world. I have a small book here, which I make it a point to read a +little in, whenever we are about to engage, and I find it a great +strengthener in time of need.” While speaking, he took a Bible from his +pocket, and offered it to the peddler. Birch received the volume with +habitual reverence; but there was an abstracted air about him, and a +wandering of the eye, that induced his companion to think that alarm +was getting the mastery of the peddler’s feelings; accordingly, he +proceeded in what he conceived to be the offices of consolation. + +“If anything lies heavy on your mind, now is the best time to get rid +of it—if you have done any wrong to anyone, I promise you, on the word +of an honest dragoon, to lend you a helping hand to see them righted.” + +“There are few who have not done so,” said the peddler, turning his +vacant gaze once more on his companion. + +“True—’tis natural to sin; but it sometimes happens that a man does +what at other times he may be sorry for. One would not wish to die with +any very heavy sin on his conscience, after all.” + +Harvey had by this time thoroughly examined the place in which he was +to pass the night, and saw no means of escape. But as hope is ever the +last feeling to desert the human breast, the peddler gave the dragoon +more of his attention, fixing on his sunburned features such searching +looks, that Sergeant Hollister lowered his eyes before the wild +expression which he met in the gaze of his prisoner. + +“I have been taught to lay the burden of my sins at the feet of my +Savior,” replied the peddler. + +“Why, yes—all that is well enough,” returned the other. “But justice +should be done while there is opportunity. There have been stirring +times in this country since the war began, and many have been deprived +of their rightful goods I oftentimes find it hard to reconcile even my +lawful plunder to a tender conscience.” + +“These hands,” said the peddler, stretching forth his meager, bony +fingers, “have spent years in toil, but not a moment in pilfering.” + +“It is well that it is so,” said the honest-hearted soldier, “and, no +doubt, you now feel it a great consolation. There are three great sins, +that, if a man can keep his conscience clear of, why, by the mercy of +God, he may hope to pass muster with the saints in heaven: they are +stealing, murdering, and desertion.” + +“Thank God!” said Birch, with fervor, “I have never yet taken the life +of a fellow creature.” + +“As to killing a man in lawful battle, that is no more than doing one’s +duty. If the cause is wrong, the sin of such a deed, you know, falls on +the nation, and a man receives his punishment here with the rest of the +people; but murdering in cold blood stands next to desertion as a crime +in the eye of God.” + +“I never was a soldier, therefore never could desert,” said the +peddler, resting his face on his hand in a melancholy attitude. + +“Why, desertion consists of more than quitting your colors, though that +is certainly the worst kind; a man may desert his country in the hour +of need.” + +Birch buried his face in both his hands, and his whole frame shook; the +sergeant regarded him closely, but good feelings soon got the better of +his antipathies, and he continued more mildly,— + +“But still that is a sin which I think may be forgiven, if sincerely +repented of; and it matters but little when or how a man dies, so that +he dies like a Christian and a man. I recommend you to say your +prayers, and then to get some rest, in order that you may do both. +There is no hope of your being pardoned; for Colonel Singleton has sent +down the most positive orders to take your life whenever we met you. +No, no—nothing can save you.” + +“You say the truth,” cried Birch. “It is now too late—I have destroyed +my only safeguard. But _he_ will do my memory justice at least.” + +“What safeguard?” asked the sergeant, with awakened curiosity. + +“’Tis nothing,” replied the peddler, recovering his natural manner, and +lowering his face to avoid the earnest looks of his companion. + +“And who is he?” + +“No one,” added Harvey, anxious to say no more. + +“Nothing and no one can avail but little now,” said the sergeant, +rising to go. “Lay yourself on the blanket of Mrs. Flanagan, and get a +little sleep; I will call you betimes in the morning; and from the +bottom of my soul I wish I could be of some service to you, for I +dislike greatly to see a man hung up like a dog.” + +“Then _you_ might save me from this ignominious death,” said Birch, +springing to his feet, and catching the dragoon by the arm. “And, oh! +what will I not give you in reward!” + +“In what manner?” asked the sergeant, looking at him in surprise. + +“See,” said the peddler, producing several guineas from his person; +“these are nothing to what I will give you, if you will assist me to +escape.” + +“Were you the man whose picture is on the gold, I would not listen to +such a crime,” said the trooper, throwing the money on the floor with +contempt. “Go—go, poor wretch, and make your peace with God; for it is +He only that can be of service to you now.” + +The sergeant took up the lantern, and, with some indignation in his +manner, he left the peddler to sorrowful meditations on his approaching +fate. Birch sank, in momentary despair, on the pallet of Betty, while +his guardian proceeded to give the necessary instructions to the +sentinels for his safe-keeping. + +Hollister concluded his injunctions to the man in the shed, by saying, +“Your life will depend on his not escaping. Let none enter or quit the +room till morning.” + +“But,” said the trooper, “my orders are, to let the washerwoman pass in +and out, as she pleases.” + +“Well, let her then; but be careful that this wily peddler does not get +out in the folds of her petticoats.” He then continued his walk, giving +similar orders to each of the sentinels near the spot. + +For some time after the departure of the sergeant, silence prevailed +within the solitary prison of the peddler, until the dragoon at his +door heard his loud breathings, which soon rose into the regular +cadence of one in a deep sleep. The man continued walking his post, +musing on an indifference to life which could allow nature its +customary rest, even on the threshold of the grave. Harvey Birch had, +however, been a name too long held in detestation by every man in the +corps, to suffer any feelings of commiseration to mingle with these +reflections of the sentinel; for, notwithstanding the consideration and +kindness manifested by the sergeant, there probably was not another man +of his rank in the whole party who would have discovered equal +benevolence to the prisoner, or who would not have imitated the veteran +in rejecting the bribe, although probably from a less worthy motive. +There was something of disappointed vengeance in the feelings of the +man who watched the door of the room on finding his prisoner enjoying a +sleep of which he himself was deprived, and at his exhibiting such +obvious indifference to the utmost penalty that military rigor could +inflict on all his treason to the cause of liberty and America. More +than once he felt prompted to disturb the repose of the peddler by +taunts and revilings; but the discipline he was under, and a secret +sense of shame at the brutality of the act, held him in subjection. + +His meditations were, however, soon interrupted by the appearance of +the washerwoman, who came staggering through the door that communicated +with the kitchen, muttering execrations against the servants of the +officers, who, by their waggery, had disturbed her slumbers before the +fire. The sentinel understood enough of her maledictions to comprehend +the case; but all his efforts to enter into conversation with the +enraged woman were useless, and he suffered her to enter her room +without explaining that it contained another inmate. The noise of her +huge frame falling on the bed was succeeded by a silence that was soon +interrupted by the renewed respiration of the peddler, and within a few +minutes Harvey continued to breathe aloud, as if no interruption had +occurred. The relief arrived at this moment. + +The sentinel, who felt nettled at the contempt of the peddler, after +communicating his orders, while he was retiring, exclaimed to his +successor,— + +“You may keep yourself warm by dancing, John; the peddler spy has tuned +his fiddle, you hear, and it will not be long before Betty will strike +up, in her turn.” + +The joke was followed by a general laugh from the party, who marched on +in performance of their duty. At this instant the door of the prison +was opened, and Betty reappeared, staggering back again toward her +former quarters. + +“Stop,” said the sentinel, catching her by her clothes; “are you sure +the spy is not in your pocket?” + +“Can’t you hear the rascal snoring in my room, you dirty blackguard?” +sputtered Betty, her whole frame shaking with rage. “And is it so ye +would sarve a dacent famale, that a man must be put to sleep in the +room wid her, ye rapscallion?” + +“Pooh! Do you mind a fellow who’s to be hanged in the morning? You see +he sleeps already; to-morrow he’ll take a longer nap.” + +“Hands off, ye villain,” cried the washerwoman, relinquishing a small +bottle that the trooper had succeeded in wresting from her. “But I’ll +go to Captain Jack, and know if it’s orders to put a hang-gallows spy +in my room; aye, even in my widowed bed, you tief!” + +“Silence, old Jezebel!” said the fellow with a laugh, taking the bottle +from his mouth to breathe, “or you will wake the gentleman. Would you +disturb a man in his last sleep?” + +“I’ll awake Captain Jack, you reprobate villain, and bring him here to +see me righted; he will punish ye all, for imposing on a dacent widowed +body, you marauder!” + +With these words, which only extorted a laugh from the sentinel, Betty +staggered round the end of the building, and made the best of her way +towards the quarters of her favorite, Captain John Lawton, in search of +redress. Neither the officer nor the woman, however, appeared during +the night, and nothing further occurred to disturb the repose of the +peddler, who, to the astonishment of the different sentinels, continued +by his breathing to manifest how little the gallows could affect his +slumbers. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +A Daniel come to judgment; yea, a Daniel! +O wise young judge, how I do honor thee! + + +—_Merchant of Venice._ + + +The Skinners followed Captain Lawton with alacrity, towards the +quarters occupied by the troop of that gentleman. The captain of +dragoons had on all occasions manifested so much zeal for the cause in +which he was engaged, was so regardless of personal danger when opposed +to the enemy, and his stature and stern countenance contributed so much +to render him terrific, that these qualities had, in some measure, +procured him a reputation distinct from the corps in which he served. +His intrepidity was mistaken for ferocity; and his hasty zeal, for the +natural love of cruelty. On the other hand, a few acts of clemency, or, +more properly speaking, of discriminating justice, had, with one +portion of the community, acquired for Dunwoodie the character of undue +forbearance. It is seldom that either popular condemnation or popular +applause falls, exactly in the quantities earned, where it is merited. + +While in the presence of the major the leader of the gang had felt +himself under that restraint which vice must ever experience in the +company of acknowledged virtue; but having left the house, he at once +conceived that he was under the protection of a congenial spirit. There +was a gravity in the manner of Lawton that deceived most of those who +did not know him intimately; and it was a common saying in his troop, +that “when the captain laughed, he was sure to punish.” Drawing near +his conductor, therefore, the leader commenced a confidential dialogue. + +“’Tis always well for a man to know his friends from his enemies,” said +the half-licensed freebooter. + +To this prefatory observation the captain made no other reply than a +sound which the other interpreted into assent. + +“I suppose Major Dunwoodie has the good opinion of Washington?” +continued the Skinner, in a tone that rather expressed a doubt than +asked a question. + +“There are some who think so.” + +“Many of the friends of Congress in this county,” the man proceeded, +“wish the horse was led by some other officer. For my part, if I could +only be covered by a troop now and then, I could do many an important +piece of service to the cause, to which this capture of the peddler +would be a trifle.” + +“Indeed! such as what?” + +“For the matter of that, it could be made as profitable to the officer +as it would be to us who did it,” said the Skinner, with a look of the +most significant meaning. + +“But how?” asked Lawton, a little impatiently, and quickening his step +to get out of the hearing of the rest of the party. + +“Why, near the royal lines, even under the very guns of the heights, +might be good picking if we had a force to guard us from De Lancey’s[8] +men, and to cover our retreat from being cut off by the way of King’s +Bridge.” + +“I thought the Refugees took all that game to themselves.” + +“They do a little at it; but they are obliged to be sparing among their +own people. I have been down twice, under an agreement with them: the +first time they acted with honor; but the second they came upon us and +drove us off, and took the plunder to themselves.” + +“That was a very dishonorable act, indeed; I wonder that an honorable +man will associate with such rascals.” + +“It is necessary to have an understanding with some of them, or we +might be taken; but a man without honor is worse than a brute. Do you +think Major Dunwoodie is to be trusted?” + +“You mean on honorable principles?” + +“Certainly; you know Arnold was thought well of until the royal major +was taken.” + +“Why, I do not believe Dunwoodie would sell his command as Arnold +wished to do; neither do I think him exactly trustworthy in a delicate +business like this of yours.” + +“That’s just my notion,” rejoined the Skinner, with a self-approving +manner that showed how much he was satisfied with his own estimate of +character. + +By this time they had arrived at a better sort of farmhouse, the very +extensive outbuildings of which were in tolerable repair, for the +times. The barns were occupied by the men of the troop, while the +horses were arranged under the long sheds which protected the yard from +the cold north wind. The latter were quietly eating, with saddles on +their backs and bridles thrown on their necks, ready to be bitted and +mounted at the shortest warning. Lawton excused himself for a moment, +and entered his quarters. He soon returned, holding in his hand one of +the common, stable lanterns, and led the way towards a large orchard +that surrounded the buildings on three sides. The gang followed the +trooper in silence, believing his object to be facility of +communicating further on this interesting topic, without the danger of +being overheard. + +Approaching the captain, the Skinner renewed the discourse, with a view +of establishing further confidence, and of giving his companion a more +favorable opinion of his own intellects. + +“Do you think the colonies will finally get the better of the king?” he +inquired, with a little of the importance of a politician. + +“Get the better!” echoed the captain with impetuosity. Then checking +himself, he continued, “No doubt they will. If the French will give us +arms and money, we will drive out the royal troops in six months.” + +“Well, so I hope we shall soon; and then we shall have a free +government, and we, who fight for it, will get our reward.” + +“Oh!” cried Lawton, “your claims will be indisputable; while all these +vile Tories who live at home peaceably, to take care of their farms, +will be held in the contempt they merit. You have no farm, I suppose?” + +“Not yet—but it will go hard if I do not find one before the peace is +made.” + +“Right; study your own interests, and you study the interests of your +country; press the point of your own services, and rail at the Tories, +and I’ll bet my spurs against a rusty nail that you get to be a county +clerk at least.” + +“Don’t you think Paulding’s[9] party were fools in not letting the +royal adjutant general escape?” said the man, thrown off his guard by +the freedom of the captain’s manner. + +“Fools!” cried Lawton, with a bitter laugh. “Aye, fools indeed; King +George would have paid them better, for he is richer. He would have +made them gentlemen for their losses. But, thank God! there is a +pervading spirit in the people that seems miraculous. Men who have +nothing, act as if the wealth of the Indies depended on their fidelity; +all are not villains like yourself, or we should have been slaves to +England years ago.” + +“How!” exclaimed the Skinner, starting back, and dropping his musket to +the level of the other’s breast; “am I betrayed, and are you my enemy?” + +“Miscreant!” shouted Lawton, his saber ringing in its steel scabbard, +as he struck the musket of the fellow from his hands, “offer but again +to point your gun at me, and I’ll cleave you to the middle.” + +“And you will not pay us, then, Captain Lawton?” said the Skinner, +trembling in every joint, for just then he saw a party of mounted +dragoons silently encircling the whole party. + +“Oh! pay you—yes, you shall have the full measure of your reward. There +is the money that Colonel Singleton sent down for the captors of the +spy,” throwing a bag of guineas with disdain at the other’s feet. “But +ground your arms, you rascals, and see that the money is truly told.” + +The intimidated band did as they were ordered; and while they were +eagerly employed in this pleasing avocation, a few of Lawton’s men +privately knocked the flints out of their muskets. + +“Well,” cried the impatient captain, “is it right? Have you the +promised reward?” + +“There is just the money,” said the leader; “and we will now go to our +homes, with your permission.” + +“Hold! so much to redeem our promise—now for justice; we pay you for +taking a spy, but we punish you for burning, robbing, and murdering. +Seize them, my lads, and give each of them the law of Moses—forty save +one.” + +This command was given to no unwilling listeners; and in the twinkling +of an eye the Skinners were stripped and fastened, by the halters of +the party, to as many of the apple trees as were necessary to furnish +one to each of the gang. Swords were quickly drawn, and fifty branches +were cut from the trees, like magic; from these were selected a few of +the most supple of the twigs, and a willing dragoon was soon found to +wield each of the weapons. Captain Lawton gave the word, humanely +cautioning his men not to exceed the discipline prescribed by the +Mosaic law, and the uproar of Babel commenced in the orchard. The cries +of the leader were easily to be distinguished above those of his men; a +circumstance which might be accounted for, by Captain Lawton’s +reminding his corrector that he had to deal with an officer, and he +should remember and pay him unusual honor. The flagellation was +executed with great neatness and dispatch, and it was distinguished by +no irregularity, excepting that none of the disciplinarians began to +count until they had tried their whips by a dozen or more blows, by the +way, as they said themselves, of finding out the proper places to +strike. As soon as this summary operation was satisfactorily completed, +Lawton directed his men to leave the Skinners to replace their own +clothes, and to mount their horses; for they were a party who had been +detached for the purpose of patrolling lower down in the county. + +“You see, my friend,” said the captain to the leader of the Skinners, +after he had prepared himself to depart, “I can cover you to some +purpose, when necessary. If we meet often, you will be covered with +scars, which, if not very honorable, will at least be merited.” + +The fellow made no reply. He was busy with his musket, and hastening +his comrades to march; when, everything being ready, they proceeded +sullenly towards some rocks at no great distance, which were overhung +by a deep wood. The moon was just rising, and the group of dragoons +could easily be distinguished where they had been left. Suddenly +turning, the whole gang leveled their pieces and drew the triggers. The +action was noticed, and the snapping of the locks was heard by the +soldiers, who returned their futile attempt with a laugh of derision, +the captain crying aloud,— + +“Ah! rascals, I knew you, and have taken away your flints.” + +“You should have taken away that in my pouch, too,” shouted the leader, +firing his gun in the next instant. The bullet grazed the ear of +Lawton, who laughed as he shook his head, saying, “A miss was as good +as a mile.” One of the dragoons had seen the preparations of the +Skinner—who had been left alone by the rest of his gang, as soon as +they had made their abortive attempt at revenge—and was in the act of +plunging his spurs into his horse as the fellow fired. The distance to +the rocks was but small, yet the speed of the horse compelled the +leader to abandon both money and musket, to effect his escape. The +soldier returned with his prizes, and offered them to the acceptance of +his captain; but Lawton rejected them, telling the man to retain them +himself, until the rascal appeared in person to claim his property. It +would have been a business of no small difficulty for any tribunal then +existing in the new states to have enforced a restitution of the money; +for it was shortly after most equitably distributed, by the hands of +Sergeant Hollister, among a troop of horse. The patrol departed, and +the captain slowly returned to his quarters, with an intention of +retiring to rest. A figure moving rapidly among the trees, in the +direction of the wood whither the Skinners had retired, caught his eye, +and, wheeling on his heel, the cautious partisan approached it, and, to +his astonishment, saw the washerwoman at that hour of the night, and in +such a place. + +“What, Betty! Walking in your sleep, or dreaming while awake?” cried +the trooper. “Are you not afraid of meeting with the ghost of ancient +Jenny in this her favorite pasture?” + +“Ah, sure, Captain Jack,” returned the sutler in her native accent, and +reeling in a manner that made it difficult for her to raise her head, +“it’s not Jenny, or her ghost, that I’m saaking, but some yarbs for the +wounded. And it’s the vartue of the rising moon, as it jist touches +them, that I want. They grow under yon rocks, and I must hasten, or the +charm will lose its power.” + +“Fool, you are fitter for your pallet than for wandering among those +rocks; a fall from one of them would break your bones; besides, the +Skinners have fled to those heights, and should you fall in with them, +they would revenge on you a sound flogging they have just received from +me. Better return, old woman, and finish your nap; we march in the +morning.” + +Betty disregarded his advice, and continued her devious route to the +hillside. For an instant, as Lawton mentioned the Skinners, she had +paused, but immediately resuming her course, she was soon out of sight, +among the trees. + +As the captain entered his quarters, the sentinel at the door inquired +if he had met Mrs. Flanagan, and added that she had passed there, +filling the air with threats against her tormentors at the “Hotel,” and +inquiring for the captain in search of redress. Lawton heard the man in +astonishment—appeared struck with a new idea—walked several yards +towards the orchard, and returned again; for several minutes he paced +rapidly to and fro before the door of the house, and then hastily +entering it, he threw himself on a bed in his clothes, and was soon in +a profound sleep. + +In the meantime, the gang of marauders had successfully gained the +summit of the rocks, and, scattering in every direction, they buried +themselves in the depths of the wood. Finding, however, there was no +pursuit, which indeed would have been impracticable for horse, the +leader ventured to call his band together with a whistle, and in a +short time he succeeded in collecting his discomfited party, at a point +where they had but little to apprehend from any enemy. + +“Well,” said one of the fellows, while a fire was lighting to protect +them against the air, which was becoming severely cold, “there is an +end to our business in Westchester. The Virginia horse will make the +county too hot to hold us.” + +“I’ll have his blood,” muttered the leader, “if I die for it the next +instant.” + +“Oh, you are very valiant here, in the wood,” cried the other, with a +savage laugh. “Why did you, who boast so much of your aim, miss your +man, at thirty yards?” + +“’Twas the horseman that disturbed me, or I would have ended this +Captain Lawton on the spot; besides, the cold had set me a-shivering, +and I had no longer a steady hand.” + +“Say it was fear, and you will tell no lie,” said his comrade with a +sneer. “For my part, I think I shall never be cold again; my back burns +as if a thousand gridirons were laid on it.” + +“And you would tamely submit to such usage, and kiss the rod that beat +you?” + +“As for kissing the rod, it would be no easy matter. Mine was broken +into so small pieces, on my own shoulders, that it would be difficult +to find one big enough to kiss; but I would rather submit to lose half +my skin, than to lose the whole of it, with my ears in the bargain. And +such will be our fates, if we tempt this mad Virginian again. God +willing, I would at any time give him enough of my hide to make a pair +of jack boots, to get out of his hands with the remainder. If you had +known when you were well off, you would have stuck to Major Dunwoodie, +who don’t know half so much of our evil doings.” + +“Silence, you talking fool!” shouted the enraged leader; “your prating +is sufficient to drive a man mad. Is it not enough to be robbed and +beaten, but we must be tormented with your folly? Help to get out the +provisions, if any is left in the wallet, and try and stop your mouth +with food.” + +This injunction was obeyed, and the whole party, amidst sundry groans +and contortions, excited by the disordered state of their backs, made +their arrangements for a scanty meal. A large fire of dry wood was +burning in the cleft of a rock, and at length they began to recover +from the confusion of their flight, and to collect their scattered +senses. Their hunger being appeased, and many of their garments thrown +aside for the better opportunity of dressing their wounds, the gang +began to plot measures of revenge. An hour was spent in this manner, +and various expedients were proposed; but as they all depended on +personal prowess for their success, and were attended by great danger, +they were of course rejected. There was no possibility of approaching +the troops by surprise, their vigilance being ever on the watch; and +the hope of meeting Captain Lawton away from his men, was equally +forlorn, for the trooper was constantly engaged in his duty, and his +movements were so rapid, that any opportunity of meeting with him, at +all, must depend greatly on accident. Besides, it was by no means +certain that such an interview would result happily for themselves. The +cunning of the trooper was notorious; and rough and broken as was +Westchester, the fearless partisan was known to take desperate leaps, +and stone walls were but slight impediments to the charges of the +Southern horse. Gradually, the conversation took another direction, +until the gang determined on a plan which should both revenge +themselves, and at the same time offer some additional stimulus to +their exertions. The whole business was accurately discussed, the time +fixed, and the manner adopted; in short, nothing was wanting to the +previous arrangement for this deed of villainy, when they were aroused +by a voice calling aloud,— + +“This way, Captain Jack—here are the rascals ’ating by a fire—this way, +and murder the t’ieves where they sit—quick, l’ave your horses and +shoot your pistols!” + +This terrific summons was enough to disturb all the philosophy of the +gang. Springing on their feet, they rushed deeper into the wood, and +having already agreed upon a place of rendezvous previously to their +intended expedition, they dispersed towards the four quarters of the +heavens. Certain sounds and different voices were heard calling on each +other, but as the marauders were well trained to speed of foot, they +were soon lost in the distance. + +It was not long before Betty Flanagan emerged from the darkness, and +very coolly took possession of what the Skinners had left behind them; +namely, food and divers articles of dress. The washerwoman deliberately +seated herself, and made a meal with great apparent satisfaction. For +an hour, she sat with her head upon her hand, in deep musing; then she +gathered together such articles of the clothes, as seemed to suit her +fancy, and retired into the wood, leaving the fire to throw its +glimmering light on the adjacent rocks, until its last brand died away, +and the place was abandoned to solitude and darkness. + + [8] The partisan corps called Cowboys in the parlance of the country, + was commanded by Colonel De Lancey. This gentleman, for such he was by + birth and education, rendered himself very odious to the Americans by + his fancied cruelty, though there is no evidence of his being guilty + of any acts unusual in this species of warfare. Colonel De Lancey + belonged to a family of the highest consequence in the American + colonies, his uncle having died in the administration of the + government of that of New York. He should not be confounded with other + gentlemen of his name and family, many of whom served in the royal + army. His cousin, Colonel Oliver De Lancey, was, at the time of our + tale, adjutant general of the British forces in America, having + succeeded to the unfortunate André. The Cowboys were sometimes called + Refugees, in consequence of their having taken refuge under the + protection of the crown. + + + [9] The author must have intended some allusion to an individual, + which is too local to be understood by the general reader. André, as + is well known, was arrested by three countrymen, who were on the + lookout for predatory parties of the enemy; the principal man of this + party was named Paulding. The disinterested manner in which they + refused the offers of their captive is matter of history. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +No longer then perplex the breast— +When thoughts torment, the first are best; +’Tis mad to go, ’tis death to stay! +Away, to Orra, haste away. + + +—Lapland Love Song. + + +While his comrades were sleeping, in perfect forgetfulness of their +hardships and dangers, the slumbers of Dunwoodie were broken and +unquiet. After spending a night of restlessness, he arose, unrefreshed, +from the rude bed where he had thrown himself in his clothes, and, +without awaking any of the group around him, he wandered into the open +air in search of relief. The soft rays of the moon were just passing +away in the more distinct light of the morning; the wind had fallen, +and the rising mists gave the promise of another of those autumnal +days, which, in this unstable climate, succeed a tempest with the rapid +transitions of magic. The hour had not yet arrived when he intended +moving from his present position; and, willing to allow his warriors +all the refreshment that circumstances would permit, he strolled +towards the scene of the Skinners’ punishment, musing upon the +embarrassments of his situation, and uncertain how he should reconcile +his sense of duty with his love. Although Dunwoodie himself placed the +most implicit reliance on the captain’s purity of intention, he was by +no means assured that a board of officers would be equally credulous; +and, independently of all feelings of private regard, he felt certain +that with the execution of Henry would be destroyed all hopes of a +union with his sister. He had dispatched an officer, the preceding +evening, to Colonel Singleton, who was in command of the advance posts, +reporting the capture of the British captain, and, after giving his own +opinion of his innocence, requesting orders as to the manner in which +he was to dispose of his prisoner. These orders might be expected every +hour, and his uneasiness increased, in proportion as the moment +approached when his friend might be removed from his protection. In +this disturbed state of mind, the major wandered through the orchard, +and was stopped in his walk by arriving at the base of those rocks +which had protected the Skinners in their flight, before he was +conscious whither his steps had carried him. He was about to turn, and +retrace his path to his quarters, when he was startled by a voice, +bidding him,— + +“Stand or die!” + +Dunwoodie turned in amazement, and beheld the figure of a man placed at +a little distance above him on a shelving rock, with a musket leveled +at himself. The light was not yet sufficiently powerful to reach the +recesses of that gloomy spot, and a second look was necessary before he +discovered, to his astonishment, that the peddler stood before him. +Comprehending, in an instant, the danger of his situation, and +disdaining to implore mercy or to retreat, had the latter been +possible, the youth cried firmly,— + +“If I am to be murdered, fire! I will never become your prisoner.” + +“No, Major Dunwoodie,” said Birch, lowering his musket, “it is neither +my intention to capture nor to slay.” + +“What then would you have, mysterious being?” said Dunwoodie, hardly +able to persuade himself that the form he saw was not a creature of the +imagination. + +“Your good opinion,” answered the peddler, with emotion. “I would wish +all good men to judge me with lenity.” + +“To you it must be indifferent what may be the judgment of men; for you +seem to be beyond the reach of their sentence.” + +“God spares the lives of His servants to His own time,” said the +peddler, solemnly. “A few hours ago I was your prisoner, and threatened +with the gallows; now you are mine; but, Major Dunwoodie, you are free. +There are men abroad who would treat you less kindly. Of what service +would that sword be to you against my weapon and a steady hand? Take +the advice of one who has never harmed you, and who never will. Do not +trust yourself in the skirts of any wood, unless in company and +mounted.” + +“And have you comrades, who have assisted you to escape, and who are +less generous than yourself?” + +“No—no, I am alone truly—none know me but my God and _him._” + +“And who?” asked the major, with an interest he could not control. + +“None,” continued the peddler, recovering his composure. “But such is +not your case, Major Dunwoodie; you are young and happy; there are +those that are dear to you, and such are not far away—danger is near +them you love most—danger within and without—double your watchfulness— +strengthen your patrols—and be silent. With your opinion of me, should +I tell you more, you would suspect an ambush. But remember and guard +them you love best.” + +The peddler discharged the musket in the air, and threw it at the feet +of his astonished auditor. When surprise and the smoke allowed +Dunwoodie to look again on the rock where he had stood, the spot was +vacant. + +The youth was aroused from the stupor, which had been created by this +strange scene, by the trampling of horses, and the sound of the bugles. +A patrol was drawn to the spot by the report of the musket, and the +alarm had been given to the corps. Without entering into any +explanation with his men, the major returned quickly to his quarters, +where he found the whole squadron under arms, in battle array, +impatiently awaiting the appearance of their leader. The officer whose +duty it was to superintend such matters, had directed a party to lower +the sign of the Hotel Flanagan, and the post was already arranged for +the execution of the spy. On hearing from the major that the musket was +discharged by himself, and was probably one of those dropped by the +Skinners (for by this time Dunwoodie had learned the punishment +inflicted by Lawton, but chose to conceal his own interview with +Birch), his officers suggested the propriety of executing their +prisoner before they marched. Unable to believe that all he had seen +was not a dream, Dunwoodie, followed by many of his officers, and +preceded by Sergeant Hollister, went to the place which was supposed to +contain the peddler. + +“Well, sir,” said the major to the sentinel who guarded the door, “I +trust you have your prisoner in safety.” + +“He is yet asleep,” replied the man, “and he makes such a noise, I +could hardly hear the bugles sound the alarm.” + +“Open the door and bring him forth.” + +The order was obeyed; but to the utter amazement of the honest veteran +who entered the prison, he found the room in no little disorder—the +coat of the peddler where his body ought to have been, and part of the +wardrobe of Betty scattered in disorder on the floor. The washerwoman +herself occupied the pallet, in profound mental oblivion, clad as when +last seen, excepting a little black bonnet, which she so constantly +wore, that it was commonly thought she made it perform the double duty +of both day and night cap. The noise of their entrance, and the +exclamations of their party, awoke the woman. + +“Is it the breakfast that’s wanting?” said Betty, rubbing her eyes. +“Faith, ye look as if ye would ate myself—but patience, a little, +darlings, and ye’ll see sich a fry as never was.” + +“Fry!” echoed the sergeant, forgetful of his religious philosophy, and +the presence of his officers. “We’ll have you roasted, Jezebel!—you’ve +helped that damned peddler to escape.” + +“Jezebel back ag’in in your own teeth, and damned piddler too, Mr. +Sargeant!” cried Betty, who was easily roused. “What have I to do with +piddlers, or escapes? I might have been a piddler’s lady, and wore my +silks, if I’d had Sawny M’Twill, instead of tagging at the heels of a +parcel of dragooning rapscallions, who don’t know how to trate a lone +body with dacency.” + +“The fellow has left my Bible,” said the veteran, taking he book from +the floor. “Instead of spending his time in reading it to prepare for +his end like a good Christian, he has been busy in laboring to escape.” + +“And who would stay and be hanged like a dog?” cried Betty, beginning +to comprehend the case. “’Tisn’t everyone that’s born to meet with sich +an ind—like yourself, Mr. Hollister.” + +“Silence!” said Dunwoodie. “This must be inquired into closely, +gentlemen; there is no outlet but the door, and there he could not +pass, unless the sentinel connived at his escape, or was asleep at his +post. Call up the guard.” + +As these men were not paraded, curiosity had already drawn them to the +place, and they one and all, with the exception of him before +mentioned, denied that any person had passed out. The individual in +question acknowledged that Betty had gone by him, but pleaded his +orders in justification. + +“You lie, you t’ief—you lie!” shouted Betty, who had impatiently +listened to his exculpation. “Would ye slanderize a lone woman, by +saying she walks a camp at midnight? Here have I been slaping the long +night, swaatly as the sucking babe.” + +“Here, sir,” said the sergeant, turning respectfully to Dunwoodie, “is +something written in my Bible that was not in it before; for having no +family to record, I would not suffer any scribbling in the sacred +book.” + +One of the officers read aloud: “_These certify, that if suffered to +get free, it is by God’s help alone, to whose divine aid I humbly +riccommind myself. I’m forced to take the woman’s clothes, but in her +pocket is a ricompinse. Witness my hand—Harvey Birch._” + +“What!” roared Betty, “has the t’ief robbed a lone woman of her all! +Hang him—catch him and hang him, major; if there’s law or justice in +the land.” + +“Examine your pocket,” said one of the youngsters, who was enjoying the +scene, careless of the consequences. + +“Ah! faith,” cried the washerwoman, producing a guinea, “but he is a +jewel of a piddler! Long life and a brisk trade to him, say I; he is +wilcome to the duds—and if he is ever hanged, many a bigger rogue will +go free.” + +Dunwoodie turned to leave the apartment, and he saw Captain Lawton +standing with folded arms, contemplating the scene with profound +silence. His manner, so different from his usual impetuosity and zeal, +struck his commander as singular. Their eyes met, and they walked +together for a few minutes in close conversation, when Dunwoodie +returned, and dismissed the guard to their place of rendezvous. +Sergeant Hollister, however, continued along with Betty, who, having +found none of her vestments disturbed but such as the guinea more than +paid for, was in high good humor. The washerwoman had for a long time +looked on the veteran with the eyes of affection; and she had +determined within herself to remove certain delicate objections which +had long embarrassed her peculiar situation, as respected the corps, by +making the sergeant the successor of her late husband. For some time +past the trooper had seemed to flatter this preference; and Betty, +conceiving that her violence might have mortified her suitor, was +determined to make him all the amends in her power. Besides, rough and +uncouth as she was, the washerwoman had still enough of her sex to know +that the moments of reconciliation were the moments of power. She +therefore poured out a glass of her morning beverage, and handed it to +her companion as a peace offering. + +“A few warm words between fri’nds are a trifle, ye must be knowing, +sargeant,” said the washerwoman. “It was Michael Flanagan that I ever +calumn’ated the most when I was loving him the best.” + +“Michael was a good soldier and a brave man,” said the trooper, +finishing the glass. “Our troop was covering the flank of his regiment +when he fell, and I rode over his body myself during the day. Poor +fellow! he lay on his back, and looked as composed as if he had died a +natural death after a year’s consumption.” + +“Oh! Michael was a great consumer, and be sartin; two such as us make +dreadful inroads in the stock, sargeant. But ye’re a sober, discrate +man, Mister Hollister, and would be a helpmate indeed.” + +“Why, Mrs. Flanagan, I’ve tarried to speak on a subject that lies heavy +at my heart, and I will now open my mind, if you’ve leisure to listen.” + +“Is it listen?” cried the impatient woman; “and I’d listen to you, +sargeant, if the officers never ate another mouthful. But take a second +drop, dear; ’twill encourage you to spake freely.” + +“I am already bold enough in so good a cause,” returned the veteran, +rejecting her bounty. “Betty, do you think it was really the peddler +spy that I placed in this room the last night?” + +“And who should it be else, darling?” + +“The evil one.” + +“What, the divil?” + +“Aye, even Beelzebub, disguised as the peddler; and them fellows we +thought to be Skinners were his imps.” + +“Well sure, sargeant dear, ye’re but little out this time, anyway; for +if the divil’s imps go at large in the county Westchester, sure it is +the Skinners, themselves.” + +“Mrs. Flanagan, I mean in their incarnate spirits; the evil one knew +there was no one we would arrest sooner than the peddler Birch, and he +took on his appearance to gain admission to your room.” + +“And what should the divil be wanting of me?” cried Betty, tartly. “And +isn’t there divils enough in the corps already, without one’s coming +from the bottomless pit to frighten a lone body?” + +“’Twas in mercy to you, Betty, that he was permitted to come. You see +he vanished through the door in your form, which is a symbol of your +fate, unless you mend your life. Oh! I noticed how he trembled when I +gave him the good book. Would any Christian, think you, my dear Betty, +write in a Bible in this way; unless it might be the matter of births +and deaths, and such lawful chronicles?” + +The washerwoman was pleased with the softness of her lover’s manner, +but dreadfully scandalized at his insinuation. She, however, preserved +her temper, and with the quickness of her own country’s people, +rejoined, “And would the divil have paid for the clothes, think +ye?—aye, and overpaid.” + +“Doubtless the money is base,” said the sergeant, a little staggered at +such an evidence of honesty in one of whom, as to generals, he thought +so meanly. “He tempted me with his glittering coin, but the Lord gave +me strength to resist.” + +“The goold looks well; but I’ll change it, anyway, with Captain Jack, +the day. He is niver a bit afeard of any divil of them all!” + +“Betty, Betty,” said her companion, “do not speak so disreverently of +the evil spirit; he is ever at hand, and will owe you a grudge, for +your language.” + +“Pooh! if he has any bowels at all, he won’t mind a fillip or two from +a poor lone woman; I’m sure no other Christian would.” + +“But the dark one has no bowels, except to devour the children of men,” +said the sergeant, looking around him in horror; “and it’s best to make +friends everywhere, for there is no telling what may happen till it +comes. But, Betty, no man could have got out of this place, and passed +all the sentinels, without being known. Take awful warning from the +visit therefore—” + +Here the dialogue was interrupted by a peremptory summons to the sutler +to prepare the morning’s repast, and they were obliged to separate; the +woman secretly hoping that the interest the sergeant manifested was +more earthly than he imagined; and the man, bent on saving a soul from +the fangs of the dark spirit that was prowling through their camp in +quest of victims. + +During the breakfast several expresses arrived, one of which brought +intelligence of the actual force and destination of the enemy’s +expedition that was out on the Hudson; and another, orders to send +Captain Wharton to the first post above, under the escort of a body of +dragoons. These last instructions, or rather commands, for they +admitted of no departure from their letter, completed the sum of +Dunwoodie’s uneasiness. The despair and misery of Frances were +constantly before his eyes, and fifty times he was tempted to throw +himself on his horse and gallop to the Locusts; but an uncontrollable +feeling prevented. In obedience to the commands of his superior, an +officer, with a small party, was sent to the cottage to conduct Henry +Wharton to the place directed; and the gentleman who was intrusted with +the execution of the order was charged with a letter from Dunwoodie to +his friend, containing the most cheering assurances of his safety, as +well as the strongest pledges of his own unceasing exertions in his +favor. Lawton was left with part of his own troop, in charge of the few +wounded; and as soon as the men were refreshed, the encampment broke +up, the main body marching towards the Hudson. Dunwoodie repeated his +injunctions to Captain Lawton again and again—dwelt on every word that +had fallen from the peddler, and canvassed, in every possible manner +that his ingenuity could devise, the probable meaning of his mysterious +warnings, until no excuse remained for delaying his own departure. +Suddenly recollecting, however, that no directions had been given for +the disposal of Colonel Wellmere, instead of following the rear of the +column, the major yielded to his desires, and turned down the road +which led to the Locusts. The horse of Dunwoodie was fleet as the wind, +and scarcely a minute seemed to have passed before he gained sight, +from an eminence, of the lonely vale, and as he was plunging into the +bottom lands that formed its surface, he caught a glimpse of Henry +Wharton and his escort, at a distance, defiling through a pass which +led to the posts above. This sight added to the speed of the anxious +youth, who now turned the angle of the hill that opened to the valley, +and came suddenly on the object of his search. Frances had followed the +party which guarded her brother, at a distance; and as they vanished +from her sight, she felt deserted by all that she most prized in this +world. The unaccountable absence of Dunwoodie, with the shock of +parting from Henry under such circumstances, had entirely subdued her +fortitude, and she had sunk on a stone by the roadside, sobbing as if +her heart would break. Dunwoodie sprang from his charger, threw the +reins over the neck of the animal, and in a moment he was by the side +of the weeping girl. + +“Frances—my own Frances!” he exclaimed, “why this distress? Let not the +situation of your brother create any alarm. As soon as the duty I am +now on is completed, I will hasten to the feet of Washington, and beg +his release. The Father of his Country will never deny such a boon to +one of his favorite pupils.” + +“Major Dunwoodie, for your interest in behalf of my poor brother, I +thank you,” said the trembling girl, drying her eyes, and rising with +dignity; “but such language addressed to me, surely, is improper.” + +“Improper! are you not mine—by the consent of your father—your +aunt—your brother—nay, by your own consent, my sweet Frances?” + +“I wish not, Major Dunwoodie, to interfere with the prior claims that +any other lady may have to your affections,” said Frances, struggling +to speak with firmness. + +“None other, I swear by Heaven, none other has any claim on me!” cried +Dunwoodie, with fervor. “You alone are mistress of my inmost soul.” + +“You have practiced so much, and so successfully, Major Dunwoodie, that +it is no wonder you excel in deceiving the credulity of my sex,” +returned Frances, attempting a smile, which the tremulousness of her +muscles smothered at birth. + +“Am I a villain, Miss Wharton, that you receive me with such language? +When have I ever deceived you, Frances? Who has practiced in this +manner on your purity of heart?” + +“Why has not Major Dunwoodie honored the dwelling of his intended +father with his presence lately? Did he forget it contained one friend +on a bed of sickness, and another in deep distress? Has it escaped his +memory that it held his intended wife? Or is he fearful of meeting more +than one that can lay a claim to that title? Oh, Peyton—Peyton, how +have I been deceived in you! With the foolish credulity of my youth, I +thought you all that was brave, noble, generous, and loyal.” + +“Frances, I see how you have deceived yourself,” cried Dunwoodie, his +face in a glow of fire. “You do me injustice; I swear by all that is +most dear to me, that you do me injustice.” + +“Swear not, Major Dunwoodie,” interrupted Frances, her fine countenance +lighting with the luster of womanly pride. “The time is gone by for me +to credit oaths.” + +“Miss Wharton, would you have me a coxcomb—make me contemptible in my +own eyes, by boasting with the hope of raising myself in your +estimation?” + +“Flatter not yourself that the task is so easy, sir,” returned Frances, +moving towards the cottage. “We converse together in private for the +last time; but—possibly—my father would welcome my mother’s kinsman.” + +“No, Miss Wharton, I cannot enter his dwelling now; I should act in a +manner unworthy of myself. You drive me from you, Frances, in despair. +I am going on desperate service, and may not live to return. Should +fortune prove severe, at least do my memory justice; remember that the +last breathings of my soul will be for your happiness.” So saying, he +had already placed his foot in the stirrup, but his youthful mistress, +turning on him an eye that pierced his soul, arrested the action. + +“Peyton—Major Dunwoodie,” she said, “can you ever forget the sacred +cause in which you are enlisted? Duty both to your God and to your +country forbids your doing anything rashly. The latter has need of your +services; besides”—but her voice became choked, and she was unable to +proceed. + +“Besides what?” echoed the youth, springing to her side, and offering +to take her hand in his own. Frances having, however, recovered +herself, coldly repulsed him, and continued her walk homeward. + +“Is this our parting!” cried Dunwoodie, in agony. “Am I a wretch, that +you treat me so cruelly? You have never loved me, and wish to conceal +your own fickleness by accusations that you will not explain.” + +Frances stopped short in her walk, and turned on him a look of so much +purity and feeling, that, heart-stricken, Dunwoodie would have knelt at +her feet for pardon; but motioning him for silence, she once more +spoke:— + +“Hear me, Major Dunwoodie, for the last time: it is a bitter knowledge +when we first discover our own inferiority; but it is a truth that I +have lately learned. Against you I bring no charges—make no +accusations; no, not willingly in my thoughts. Were my claims to your +heart just, I am not worthy of you. It is not a feeble, timid girl, +like me, that could make you happy. No, Peyton, you are formed for +great and glorious actions, deeds of daring and renown, and should be +united to a soul like your own; one that can rise above the weakness of +her sex. I should be a weight to drag you to the dust; but with a +different spirit in your companion, you might soar to the very pinnacle +of earthly glory. To such a one, therefore, I resign you freely, if not +cheerfully; and pray, oh, how fervently do I pray! that with such a one +you may be happy.” + +“Lovely enthusiast!” cried Dunwoodie, “you know not yourself, nor me. +It is a woman, mild, gentle, and dependent as yourself, that my very +nature loves; deceive not yourself with visionary ideas of generosity, +which will only make me miserable.” + +“Farewell, Major Dunwoodie,” said the agitated girl, pausing for a +moment to gasp for breath; “forget that you ever knew me—remember the +claims of your bleeding country; and be happy.” + +“Happy!” repeated the youthful soldier, bitterly, as he saw her light +form gliding through the gate of the lawn, and disappearing behind its +shrubbery, “Yes, I am happy, indeed!” + +Throwing himself into the saddle, he plunged his spurs into his horse, +and soon overtook his squadron, which was marching slowly over the +hilly roads of the county, to gain the banks of the Hudson. + +But painful as were the feelings of Dunwoodie at this unexpected +termination of the interview with his mistress, they were but light +compared with those which were experienced by the fond girl herself. +Frances had, with the keen eye of jealous love, easily detected the +attachment of Isabella Singleton to Dunwoodie. Delicate and retiring +herself, it never could present itself to her mind that this love had +been unsought. Ardent in her own affections, and artless in their +exhibition, she had early caught the eye of the young soldier; but it +required all the manly frankness of Dunwoodie to court her favor, and +the most pointed devotion to obtain his conquest. This done, his power +was durable, entire, and engrossing. But the unusual occurrences of the +few preceding days, the altered mien of her lover during those events, +his unwonted indifference to herself, and chiefly the romantic idolatry +of Isabella, had aroused new sensations in her bosom. With a dread of +her lover’s integrity had been awakened the never-failing concomitant +of the purest affection, a distrust of her own merits. In the moment of +enthusiasm, the task of resigning her lover to another, who might be +more worthy of him, seemed easy; but it is in vain that the imagination +attempts to deceive the heart. Dunwoodie had no sooner disappeared, +than our heroine felt all the misery of her situation; and if the youth +found some relief in the cares of his command, Frances was less +fortunate in the performance of a duty imposed on her by filial piety. +The removal of his son had nearly destroyed the little energy of Mr. +Wharton, who required all the tenderness of his remaining children to +convince him that he was able to perform the ordinary functions of +life. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces, +Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces, +That man who hath a tongue I say is no man, +If with that tongue he cannot win a woman. + + +—_Two Gentlemen of Verona_. + + +In making the arrangements by which Captain Lawton had been left, with +Sergeant Hollister and twelve men, as a guard over the wounded, and +heavy baggage of the corps, Dunwoodie had consulted not only the +information which had been conveyed in the letter of Colonel Singleton, +but the bruises of his comrade’s body. In vain Lawton declared himself +fit for any duty that man could perform, or plainly intimated that his +men would never follow Tom Mason to a charge with the alacrity and +confidence with which they followed himself; his commander was firm, +and the reluctant captain was compelled to comply with as good a grace +as he could assume. Before parting, Dunwoodie repeated his caution to +keep a watchful eye on the inmates of the cottage; and especially +enjoined him, if any movements of a particularly suspicious nature were +seen in the neighborhood, to break up from his present quarters, and to +move down with his party, and take possession of the domains of Mr. +Wharton. A vague suspicion of danger to the family had been awakened in +the breast of the major, by the language of the peddler, although he +was unable to refer it to any particular source, or to understand why +it was to be apprehended. + +For some time after the departure of the troops, the captain was +walking before the door of the “Hotel,” inwardly cursing his fate, that +condemned him to an inglorious idleness, at a moment when a meeting +with the enemy might be expected, and replying to the occasional +queries of Betty, who, from the interior of the building, ever and anon +demanded, in a high tone of voice, an explanation of various passages +in the peddler’s escape, which as yet she could not comprehend. At this +instant he was joined by the surgeon, who had hitherto been engaged +among his patients in a distant building, and was profoundly ignorant +of everything that had occurred, even to the departure of the troops. + +“Where are all the sentinels, John?” he inquired, as he gazed around +with a look of curiosity, “and why are you here alone?” + +“Off—all off, with Dunwoodie, to the river. You and I are left here to +take care of a few sick men and some women.” + +“I am glad, however,” said the surgeon, “that Major Dunwoodie had +consideration enough not to move the wounded. Here, you Mrs. Elizabeth +Flanagan, hasten with some food, that I may appease my appetite. I have +a dead body to dissect and am in haste.” + +“And here, you Mister Doctor Archibald Sitgreaves,” echoed Betty, +showing her blooming countenance from a broken window of the kitchen, +“you are ever a-coming too late; here is nothing to ate but the skin of +Jenny, and the body ye’re mentioning.” + +“Woman!” said the surgeon, in anger, “do you take me for a cannibal, +that you address your filthy discourse to me, in this manner? I bid you +hasten with such food as may be proper to be received into the stomach +fasting.” + +“And I’m sure it’s for a popgun that I should be taking you sooner than +for a cannon ball,” said Betty, winking at the captain; “and I tell ye +that it’s fasting you must be, unless ye’ll let me cook ye a steak from +the skin of Jenny. The boys have ate me up intirely.” + +Lawton now interfered to preserve the peace, and assured the surgeon +that he had already dispatched the proper persons in quest of food for +the party. A little mollified with this explanation, the operator soon +forgot his hunger, and declared his intention of proceeding to business +at once. + +“And where is your subject?” asked Lawton. + +“The peddler,” said the other, glancing a look at the signpost. “I made +Hollister put a stage so high that the neck would not be dislocated by +the fall, and I intend making as handsome a skeleton of him as there is +in the states of North America; the fellow has good points, and his +bones are well knit. I will make a perfect beauty of him. I have long +been wanting something of this sort to send as a present to my old aunt +in Virginia, who was so kind to me when a boy.” + +“The devil!” cried Lawton. “Would you send the old woman a dead man’s +bones?” + +“Why not?” said the surgeon. “What nobler object is there in nature +than the figure of a man—and the skeleton may be called his elementary +parts. But what has been done with the body?” + +“Off too.” + +“Off! And who has dared to interfere with my perquisites?” + +“Sure, jist the divil,” said Betty; “and who’ll be taking yeerself away +some of these times too, without asking yeer lave.” + +“Silence, you witch!” said Lawton, with difficulty suppressing a laugh. +“Is this the manner in which to address an officer?” + +“Who called me the filthy Elizabeth Flanagan?” cried the washerwoman, +snapping her fingers contemptuously. “I can remimber a frind for a year +and don’t forgit an inimy for a month.” + +But the friendship or enmity of Mrs. Flanagan was alike indifferent to +the surgeon, who could think of nothing but his loss; and Lawton was +obliged to explain to his friend the apparent manner in which it had +happened. + +“And a lucky escape it was for ye, my jewel of a doctor,” cried Betty, +as the captain concluded. “Sargeant Hollister, who saw him face to +face, as it might be, says it’s Beelzeboob, and no piddler, unless it +may be in a small matter of lies and thefts, and sich wickedness. Now a +pretty figure ye would have been in cutting up Beelzeboob, if the major +had hanged him. I don’t think it’s very ’asy he would have been under +yeer knife.” + +Thus doubly disappointed in his meal and his business, Sitgreaves +suddenly declared his intention of visiting the Locusts, and inquiring +into the state of Captain Singleton. Lawton was ready for the +excursion; and mounting, they were soon on the road, though the surgeon +was obliged to submit to a few more jokes from the washerwoman, before +he could get out of hearing. For some time the two rode in silence, +when Lawton, perceiving that his companion’s temper was somewhat +ruffled by his disappointments and Betty’s attack, made an effort to +restore the tranquillity of his feelings. + +“That was a charming song, Archibald, that you commenced last evening, +when we were interrupted by the party that brought in the peddler,” he +said. “The allusion to Galen was much to the purpose.” + +“I knew you would like it, Jack, when you had got the fumes of the wine +out of your head. Poetry is a respectable art, though it wants the +precision of the exact sciences, and the natural beneficence of the +physical. Considered in reference to the wants of life, I should define +poetry as an emollient, rather than as a succulent.” + +“And yet your ode was full of the meat of wit.” + +“Ode is by no means a proper term for the composition; I should term it +a classical ballad.” + +“Very probably,” said the trooper. “Hearing only one verse, it was +difficult to class the composition.” + +The surgeon involuntarily hemmed, and began to clear his throat, +although scarcely conscious himself to what the preparation tended. But +the captain, rolling his dark eyes towards his companion, and observing +him to be sitting with great uneasiness on his horse, continued,— + +“The air is still, and the road solitary—why not give the remainder? It +is never too late to repair a loss.” + +“My dear John, if I thought it would correct the errors you have +imbibed, from habit and indulgence, nothing could give me more +pleasure.” + +“We are fast approaching some rocks on our left; the echo will double +my satisfaction.” + +Thus encouraged, and somewhat impelled by the opinion that he both sang +and wrote with taste, the surgeon set about complying with the request +in sober earnest. Some little time was lost in clearing his throat, and +getting the proper pitch of his voice; but no sooner were these two +points achieved, than Lawton had the secret delight of hearing his +friend commence— + +“‘Hast thou ever’”— + + +“Hush!” interrupted the trooper. “What rustling noise is that among the +rocks?” + +“It must have been the rushing of the melody. A powerful voice is like +the breathing of the winds. + +“‘Hast thou ever’”— + + +“Listen!” said Lawton, stopping his horse. He had not done speaking, +when a stone fell at his feet, and rolled harmlessly across the path. + +“A friendly shot, that,” cried the trooper. “Neither the weapon, nor +its force, implies much ill will.” + +“Blows from stones seldom produce more than contusions,” said the +operator, bending his gaze in every direction in vain, in quest of the +hand from which the missile had been hurled. “It must be meteoric; +there is no living being in sight, except ourselves.” + +“It would be easy to hide a regiment behind those rocks,” returned the +trooper, dismounting, and taking the stone in his hand. “Oh! here is +the explanation along with the mystery.” So saying, he tore a piece of +paper that had been ingeniously fastened to the small fragment of rock +which had thus singularly fallen before him; and opening it, the +captain read the following words, written in no very legible hand: “_A +musket bullet will go farther than a stone, and things more dangerous +than yarbs for wounded men lie hid in the rocks of Westchester. The +horse may be good, but can he mount a precipice?_” + +“Thou sayest the truth, strange man,” said Lawton. “Courage and +activity would avail but little against assassination and these rugged +passes.” Remounting his horse, he cried aloud, “Thanks, unknown friend; +your caution will be remembered.” + +A meager hand was extended for an instant over a rock, in the air, and +afterwards nothing further was seen, or heard, in that quarter, by the +soldiers. + +“Quite an extraordinary interruption,” said the astonished Sitgreaves, +“and a letter of very mysterious meaning.” + +“Oh! ’tis nothing but the wit of some bumpkin, who thinks to frighten +two of the Virginians by an artifice of this kind,” said the trooper, +placing the billet in his pocket. “But let me tell you, Mr. Archibald +Sitgreaves, you were wanting to dissect, just now, a damned honest +fellow.” + +“It was the peddler—one of the most notorious spies in the enemy’s +service; and I must say that I think it would be an honor to such a man +to be devoted to the uses of science.” + +“He may be a spy—he must be one,” said Lawton, musing; “but he has a +heart above enmity, and a soul that would honor a soldier.” + +The surgeon turned a vacant eye on his companion as he uttered this +soliloquy, while the penetrating looks of the trooper had already +discovered another pile of rocks, which, jutting forward, nearly +obstructed the highway that wound directly around its base. + +“What the steed cannot mount, the foot of man can overcome,” exclaimed +the wary partisan. Throwing himself again from his saddle, and leaping +a wall of stone, he began to ascend the hill at a pace which would soon +have given him a bird’s-eye view of the rocks in question, together +with all their crevices. This movement was no sooner made, than Lawton +caught a glimpse of the figure of a man stealing rapidly from his +approach, and disappearing on the opposite side of the precipice. + +“Spur, Sitgreaves—spur,” shouted the trooper, dashing over every +impediment in pursuit, “and murder the villain as he flies.” + +The former part of the request was promptly complied with, and a few +moments brought the surgeon in full view of a man armed with a musket, +who was crossing the road, and evidently seeking the protection of the +thick wood on its opposite side. + +“Stop, my friend—stop until Captain Lawton comes up, if you please,” +cried the surgeon, observing him to flee with a rapidity that baffled +his horsemanship. But as if the invitation contained new terrors, the +footman redoubled his efforts, nor paused even to breathe, until he had +reached his goal, when, turning on his heel, he discharged his musket +towards the surgeon, and was out of sight in an instant. To gain the +highway, and throw himself into his saddle, detained Lawton but a +moment, and he rode to the side of his comrade just as the figure +disappeared. + +“Which way has he fled?” cried the trooper. + +“John,” said the surgeon, “am I not a noncombatant?” + +“Whither has the rascal fled?” cried Lawton, impatiently. + +“Where you cannot follow—into that wood. But I repeat, John, am I not a +noncombatant?” + +The disappointed trooper, perceiving that his enemy had escaped him, +now turned his eyes, which were flashing with anger, upon his comrade, +and gradually his muscles lost their rigid compression, his brow +relaxed, and his look changed from its fierce expression, to the covert +laughter which so often distinguished his countenance. The surgeon sat +in dignified composure on his horse; his thin body erect, and his head +elevated with the indignation of one conscious of having been unjustly +treated. + +“Why did you suffer the villain to escape?” demanded the captain. “Once +within reach of my saber, and I would have given you a subject for the +dissecting table.” + +“’Twas impossible to prevent it,” said the surgeon, pointing to the +bars, before which he had stopped his horse. “The rogue threw himself +on the other side of this fence, and left me where you see; nor would +the man in the least attend to my remonstrances, or to an intimation +that you wished to hold discourse with him.” + +“He was truly a discourteous rascal; but why did you not leap the +fence, and compel him to a halt? You see but three of the bars are up, +and Betty Flanagan could clear them on her cow.” + +The surgeon, for the first time, withdrew his eyes from the place where +the fugitive had disappeared, and turned his look on his comrade. His +head, however, was not permitted to lower itself in the least, as he +replied,— + +“I humbly conceive, Captain Lawton, that neither Mrs. Elizabeth +Flanagan, nor her cow, is an example to be emulated by Doctor Archibald +Sitgreaves. It would be but a sorry compliment to science, to say that +a doctor of medicine had fractured both his legs by injudiciously +striking them against a pair of barposts.” While speaking, the surgeon +raised the limbs in question to a nearly horizontal position, an +attitude which really appeared to bid defiance to anything like a +passage for himself through the defile; but the trooper, disregarding +this ocular proof of the impossibility of the movement, cried hastily,— + +“Here was nothing to stop you, man; I could leap a platoon through, +boot and thigh, without pricking with a single spur. Pshaw! I have +often charged upon the bayonets of infantry, over greater difficulties +than this.” + +“You will please to remember, Captain John Lawton, that I am not the +riding master of the regiment—nor a drill sergeant—nor a crazy cornet; +no, sir—and I speak it with a due respect for the commission of the +Continental Congress—nor an inconsiderate captain, who regards his own +life as little as that of his enemies. I am only, sir, a poor humble +man of letters, a mere doctor of medicine, an unworthy graduate of +Edinburgh, and a surgeon of dragoons; nothing more, I do assure you, +Captain John Lawton.” So saying, he turned his horse’s head towards the +cottage, and recommenced his ride. + +“Aye, you speak the truth,” muttered the dragoon. “Had I but the +meanest rider of my troop with me, I should have taken the scoundrel, +and given at least one victim to the laws. But, Archibald, no man can +ride well who straddles in this manner like the Colossus of Rhodes. You +should depend less on your stirrup, and keep your seat by the power of +the knee.” + +“With proper deference to your experience, Captain Lawton,” returned +the surgeon, “I conceive myself to be no incompetent judge of muscular +action, whether in the knee, or in any other part of the human frame. +And although but humbly educated, I am not now to learn that the wider +the base, the more firm is the superstructure.” + +“Would you fill a highway, in this manner, with one pair of legs, when +half a dozen might pass together in comfort, stretching them abroad +like the scythes of the ancient chariot wheels?” + +The allusion to the practice of the ancients somewhat softened the +indignation of the surgeon, and he replied, with rather less hauteur,— + +“You should speak with reverence of the usages of those who have gone +before us, and who, however ignorant they were in matters of science, +and particularly that of surgery, yet furnished many brilliant hints to +our own improvements. Now, sir, I have no doubt that Galen has operated +on wounds occasioned by these very scythes that you mention, although +we can find no evidence of the fact in contemporary writers. Ah! they +must have given dreadful injuries, and, I doubt not, caused great +uneasiness to the medical gentlemen of that day.” + +“Occasionally a body must have been left in two pieces, to puzzle the +ingenuity of those gentry to unite. Yet, venerable and learned as they +were, I doubt not they did it.” + +“What! unite two parts of the human body, that have been severed by an +edged instrument, to any of the purposes of animal life?” + +“That have been rent asunder by a scythe, and are united to do military +duty,” said Lawton. + +“’Tis impossible—quite impossible,” cried the surgeon. “It is in vain, +Captain Lawton, that human ingenuity endeavors to baffle the efforts of +nature. Think, my dear sir; in this case you separate all the +arteries—injure all of the intestines—sever all of the nerves and +sinews, and, what is of more consequence, you—” + +“You have said enough, Dr. Sitgreaves, to convince a member of a rival +school. Nothing shall ever tempt me willingly to submit to be divided +in this irretrievable manner.” + +“Certes, there is little pleasure in a wound which, from its nature, is +incurable.” + +“I should think so,” said Lawton, dryly. + +“What do you think is the greatest pleasure in life?” asked the +operator suddenly. + +“That must greatly depend on taste.” + +“Not at all,” cried the surgeon; “it is in witnessing, or rather +feeling, the ravages of disease repaired by the lights of science +cooperating with nature. I once broke my little finger intentionally, +in order that I might reduce the fracture and watch the cure: it was +only on a small scale, you know, dear John; still the thrilling +sensation excited by the knitting of the bone, aided by the +contemplation of the art of man thus acting in unison with nature, +exceeded any other enjoyment that I have ever experienced. Now, had it +been one of the more important members, such as the leg, or arm, how +much greater must the pleasure have been!” + +“Or the neck,” said the trooper; but their desultory discourse was +interrupted by their arrival at the cottage of Mr. Wharton. No one +appearing to usher them into an apartment, the captain proceeded to the +door of the parlor, where he knew visitors were commonly received. On +opening it, he paused for a moment, in admiration at the scene within. +The person of Colonel Wellmere first met his eye, bending towards the +figure of the blushing Sarah, with an earnestness of manner that +prevented the noise of Lawton’s entrance from being heard by either of +the parties. Certain significant signs which were embraced at a glance +by the prying gaze of the trooper, at once made him a master of their +secret; and he was about to retire as silently as he had advanced, when +his companion, pushing himself through the passage, abruptly entered +the room. Advancing instantly to the chair of Wellmere, the surgeon +instinctively laid hold of his arm, and exclaimed,— + +“Bless me!—a quick and irregular pulse—flushed cheek and fiery +eye—strong febrile symptoms, and such as must be attended to.” While +speaking, the doctor, who was much addicted to practicing in a summary +way,—a weakness of most medical men in military practice,—had already +produced his lancet, and was making certain other indications of his +intentions to proceed at once to business. But Colonel Wellmere, +recovering from the confusion of the surprise, arose from his seat +haughtily, and said,— + +“Sir, it is the warmth of the room that lends me the color, and I am +already too much indebted to your skill to give you any further +trouble. Miss Wharton knows that I am quite well, and I do assure you +that I never felt better or happier in my life.” + +There was a peculiar emphasis on the latter part of this speech, that, +however it might gratify the feelings of Sarah, brought the color to +her cheeks again; and Sitgreaves, as his eye followed the direction of +those of his patient, did not fail to observe it. + +“Your arm, if you please, madam,” said the surgeon, advancing with a +bow. “Anxiety and watching have done their work on your delicate frame, +and there are symptoms about you that must not be neglected.” + +“Excuse me, sir,” said Sarah, recovering herself with womanly pride; +“the heat is oppressive, and I will retire and acquaint Miss Peyton +with your presence.” + +There was but little difficulty in practicing on the abstracted +simplicity of the surgeon; but it was necessary for Sarah to raise her +eyes to return the salutation of Lawton, as he bowed his head nearly to +a level with the hand that held open the door for her passage. One look +was sufficient; she was able to control her steps sufficiently to +retire with dignity; but no sooner was she relieved from the presence +of all observers, than she fell into a chair and abandoned herself to a +feeling of mingled shame and pleasure. + +A little nettled at the contumacious deportment of the British colonel, +Sitgreaves, after once more tendering services that were again +rejected, withdrew to the chamber of young Singleton, whither Lawton +had already preceded him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Oh! Henry, when thou deign’st to sue, +Can I thy suit withstand? +When thou, loved youth, hast won my heart, +Can I refuse my hand? + + +—_Hermit of Warkevorth._ + + +The graduate of Edinburgh found his patient rapidly improving in +health, and entirely free from fever. His sister, with a cheek that +was, if possible, paler than on her arrival, watched around his couch +with tender care; and the ladies of the cottage had not, in the midst +of their sorrows and varied emotions, forgotten to discharge the duties +of hospitality. Frances felt herself impelled towards their +disconsolate guest, with an interest for which she could not account, +and with a force that she could not control. She had unconsciously +connected the fates of Dunwoodie and Isabella in her imagination, and +she felt, with the romantic ardor of a generous mind, that she was +serving her former lover most by exhibiting kindness to her he loved +best. Isabella received her attentions with gratitude, but neither of +them indulged in any allusions to the latent source of their +uneasiness. The observation of Miss Peyton seldom penetrated beyond +things that were visible, and to her the situation of Henry Wharton +seemed to furnish an awful excuse for the fading cheeks and tearful +eyes of her niece. If Sarah manifested less of care than her sister, +still the unpracticed aunt was not at a loss to comprehend the reason. +Love is a holy feeling with the virtuous of the female sex, and it +hallows all that come within its influence. Although Miss Peyton +mourned with sincerity over the danger which threatened her nephew, she +well knew that an active campaign was not favorable to love, and the +moments that were thus accidentally granted were not to be thrown away. + +Several days now passed without any interruption of the usual +avocations of the inhabitants of the cottage, or the party at the Four +Corners. The former were supporting their fortitude with the certainty +of Henry’s innocence, and a strong reliance on Dunwoodie’s exertions in +his behalf, and the latter waiting with impatience the intelligence, +that was hourly expected, of a conflict, and their orders to depart. +Captain Lawton, however, waited for both these events in vain. Letters +from the major announced that the enemy, finding that the party which +was to coöperate with them had been defeated, and was withdrawn, had +retired also behind the works of Fort Washington, where they continued +inactive, threatening constantly to strike a blow in revenge for their +disgrace. The trooper was enjoined to vigilance, and the letter +concluded with a compliment to his honor, zeal, and undoubted bravery. + +“Extremely flattering, Major Dunwoodie,” muttered the dragoon, as he +threw down this epistle, and stalked across the floor to quiet his +impatience. “A proper guard have you selected for this service: let me +see—I have to watch over the interests of a crazy, irresolute old man, +who does not know whether he belongs to us or to the enemy; four women, +three of whom are well enough in themselves, but who are not immensely +flattered by my society; and the fourth, who, good as she is, is on the +wrong side of forty; some two or three blacks; a talkative housekeeper, +that does nothing but chatter about gold and despisables, and signs and +omens; and poor George Singleton. Well, a comrade in suffering has a +claim on a man,—so I’ll make the best of it.” + +As he concluded this soliloquy, the trooper took a seat and began to +whistle, to convince himself how little he cared about the matter, +when, by throwing his booted leg carelessly round, he upset the canteen +that held his whole stock of brandy. The accident was soon repaired, +but in replacing the wooden vessel, he observed a billet lying on the +bench, on which the liquor had been placed. It was soon opened, and he +read: _“The moon will not rise till after midnight—a fit time for deeds +of darkness.”_ There was no mistaking the hand; it was clearly the same +that had given him the timely warning against assassination, and the +trooper continued, for a long time, musing on the nature of these two +notices, and the motives that could induce the peddler to favor an +implacable enemy in the manner that he had latterly done. That he was a +spy of the enemy, Lawton knew; for the fact of his conveying +intelligence to the English commander in chief, of a party of Americans +that were exposed to the enemy was proved most clearly against him on +the trial for his life. The consequences of his treason had been +avoided, it is true, by a lucky order from Washington, which withdrew +the regiment a short time before the British appeared to cut it off, +but still the crime was the same. “Perhaps,” thought the partisan, “he +wishes to make a friend of me against the event of another capture; +but, at all events, he spared my life on one occasion, and saved it on +another. I will endeavor to be as generous as himself, and pray that my +duty may never interfere with my feelings.” + +Whether the danger, intimated in the present note, threatened the +cottage or his own party, the captain was uncertain; but he inclined to +the latter opinion, and determined to beware how he rode abroad in the +dark. To a man in a peaceable country, and in times of quiet and order, +the indifference with which the partisan regarded the impending danger +would be inconceivable. His reflections on the subject were more +directed towards devising means to entrap his enemies, than to escape +their machinations. But the arrival of the surgeon, who had been to pay +his daily visit to the Locusts, interrupted his meditations. Sitgreaves +brought an invitation from the mistress of the mansion to Captain +Lawton, desiring that the cottage might be honored with his presence at +an early hour on that evening. + +“Ha!” cried the trooper; “then they have received a letter also.” + +“I think nothing more probable,” said the surgeon. “There is a chaplain +at the cottage from the royal army, who has come out to exchange the +British wounded, and who has an order from Colonel Singleton for their +delivery. But a more mad project than to remove them now was never +adopted.” + +“A priest, say you!—is he a hard drinker—a real camp-idler—a fellow to +breed a famine in a regiment? Or does he seem a man who is earnest in +his trade?” + +“A very respectable and orderly gentleman, and not unreasonably given +to intemperance, judging from the outward symptoms,” returned the +surgeon; “and a man who really says grace in a very regular and +appropriate manner.” + +“And does he stay the night?” + +“Certainly, he waits for his cartel; but hasten, John, we have but +little time to waste. I will just step up and bleed two or three of the +Englishmen who are to move in the morning, in order to anticipate +inflammation, and be with you immediately.” + +The gala suit of Captain Lawton was easily adjusted to his huge frame, +and his companion being ready, they once more took their route towards +the cottage. Roanoke had been as much benefited by a few days’ rest as +his master; and Lawton ardently wished, as he curbed his gallant steed, +on passing the well-remembered rocks, that his treacherous enemy stood +before him, mounted and armed as himself. But no enemy, nor any +disturbance whatever, interfered with their progress, and they reached +the Locusts just as the sun was throwing his setting rays on the +valley, and tingeing the tops of the leafless trees with gold. It never +required more than a single look to acquaint the trooper with the +particulars of every scene that was not uncommonly veiled, and the +first survey that he took on entering the house told him more than the +observations of a day had put into the possession of Doctor Sitgreaves. +Miss Peyton accosted him with a smiling welcome, that exceeded the +bounds of ordinary courtesy and which evidently flowed more from +feelings that were connected with the heart, than from manner. Frances +glided about, tearful and agitated, while Mr. Wharton stood ready to +receive them, decked in a suit of velvet that would have been +conspicuous in the gayest drawing-room. Colonel Wellmere was in the +uniform of an officer of the household troops of his prince, and +Isabella Singleton sat in the parlor, clad in the habiliments of joy, +but with a countenance that belied her appearance; while her brother by +her side looked, with a cheek of flitting color, and an eye of intense +interest, like anything but an invalid. As it was the third day that he +had left his room, Dr. Sitgreaves, who began to stare about him in +stupid wonder, forgot to reprove his patient for imprudence. Into this +scene Captain Lawton moved with all the composure and gravity of a man +whose nerves were not easily discomposed by novelties. His compliments +were received as graciously as they were offered, and after exchanging +a few words with the different individuals present, he approached the +surgeon, who had withdrawn, in a kind of confused astonishment, to +rally his senses. + +“John,” whispered the surgeon, with awakened curiosity, “what means +this festival?” + +“That your wig and my black head would look the better for a little of +Betty Flanagan’s flour; but it is too late now, and we must fight the +battle armed as you see.” + +“Observe, here comes the army chaplain in his full robes, as a Doctor +Divinitatis; what can it mean?” + +“An exchange,” said the trooper. “The wounded of Cupid are to meet and +settle their accounts with the god, in the way of plighting faith to +suffer from his archery no more.” + +The surgeon laid a finger on the side of his nose, and he began to +comprehend the case. + +“Is it not a crying shame, that a sunshine hero, and an enemy, should +thus be suffered to steal away one of the fairest plants that grow in +our soil,” muttered Lawton; “a flower fit to be placed in the bosom of +any man!” + +“If he be not more accommodating as a husband than as a patient, John, +I fear me that the lady will lead a troubled life.” + +“Let her,” said the trooper, indignantly; “she has chosen from her +country’s enemies, and may she meet with a foreigner’s virtues in her +choice.” + +Further conversation was interrupted by Miss Peyton, who, advancing, +acquainted them that they had been invited to grace the nuptials of her +eldest niece and Colonel Wellmere. The gentlemen bowed; and the good +aunt, with an inherent love of propriety, went on to add, that the +acquaintance was of an old date, and the attachment by no means a +sudden thing. To this Lawton merely bowed still more ceremoniously; but +the surgeon, who loved to hold converse with the virgin, replied,— + +“That the human mind was differently constituted in different +individuals. In some, impressions are vivid and transitory; in others, +more deep and lasting: indeed, there are some philosophers who pretend +to trace a connection between the physical and mental powers of the +animal; but, for my part, madam, I believe that the one is much +influenced by habit and association, and the other subject altogether +to the peculiar laws of matter.” + +Miss Peyton, in her turn, bowed her silent assent to this remark, and +retired with dignity, to usher the intended bride into the presence of +the company. The hour had arrived when American custom has decreed that +the vows of wedlock must be exchanged; and Sarah, blushing with a +variety of emotions, followed her aunt to the drawing-room. Wellmere +sprang to receive the hand that, with an averted face, she extended +towards him, and, for the first time, the English colonel appeared +fully conscious of the important part that he was to act in the +approaching ceremony. Hitherto his air had been abstracted, and his +manner uneasy; but everything, excepting the certainty of his bliss, +seemed to vanish at the blaze of loveliness that now burst on his +sight. All arose from their seats, and the reverend gentleman had +already opened the sacred volume, when the absence of Frances was +noticed! Miss Peyton withdrew in search of her youngest niece, whom she +found in her own apartment, and in tears. + +“Come, my love, the ceremony waits but for us,” said the aunt, +affectionately entwining her arm in that of her niece. “Endeavor to +compose yourself, that proper honor may be done to the choice of your +sister.” + +“Is he—can he be, worthy of her?” + +“Can he be otherwise?” returned Miss Peyton. “Is he not a gentleman?—a +gallant soldier, though an unfortunate one? and certainly, my love, one +who appears every way qualified to make any woman happy.” + +Frances had given vent to her feelings, and, with an effort, she +collected sufficient resolution to venture to join the party below. But +to relieve the embarrassment of this delay, the clergyman had put +sundry questions to the bridegroom; one of which was by no means +answered to his satisfaction. Wellmere was compelled to acknowledge +that he was unprovided with a ring; and to perform the marriage +ceremony without one, the divine pronounced to be canonically +impossible. His appeal to Mr. Wharton, for the propriety of this +decision, was answered affirmatively, as it would have been negatively, +had the question been put in a manner to lead to such a result. The +owner of the Locusts had lost the little energy he possessed, by the +blow recently received through his son, and his assent to the objection +of the clergyman was as easily obtained as had been his consent to the +premature proposals of Wellmere. In this stage of the dilemma, Miss +Peyton and Frances appeared. The surgeon of dragoons approached the +former, and as he handed her to a chair, observed,— + +“It appears, madam, that untoward circumstances have prevented Colonel +Wellmere from providing all of the decorations that custom, antiquity, +and the canons of the church have prescribed, as indispensable to enter +into the honorable state of wedlock.” + +Miss Peyton glanced her quiet eye at the uneasy bridegroom, and +perceiving him to be adorned with what she thought sufficient splendor, +allowing for the time and the suddenness of the occasion, she turned +her look on the speaker, as if to demand an explanation. + +The surgeon understood her wishes, and proceeded at once to gratify +them. + +“There is,” he observed, “an opinion prevalent, that the heart lies on +the left side of the body, and that the connection between the members +of that side and what may be called the seat of life is more intimate +than that which exists with their opposites. But this is an error which +grows out of an ignorance of the organic arrangement of the human +frame. In obedience to this opinion, the fourth finger of the left hand +is thought to contain a virtue that belongs to no other branch of that +digitated member; and it is ordinarily encircled, during the +solemnization of wedlock, with a cincture or ring, as if to chain that +affection to the marriage state, which is best secured by the graces of +the female character.” While speaking, the operator laid his hand +expressively on his heart, and he bowed nearly to the floor when he had +concluded. + +“I know not, sir, that I rightly understand your meaning,” said Miss +Peyton, whose want of comprehension was sufficiently excusable. + +“A ring, madam—a ring is wanting for the ceremony.” + +The instant that the surgeon spoke explicitly, the awkwardness of the +situation was understood. She glanced her eyes at her nieces, and in +the younger she read a secret exultation that somewhat displeased her; +but the countenance of Sarah was suffused with a shame that the +considerate aunt well understood. Not for the world would she violate +any of the observances of female etiquette. It suggested itself to all +the females, at the same moment, that the wedding ring of the late +mother and sister was reposing peacefully amid the rest of her jewelry +in a secret receptacle, that had been provided at an early day, to +secure the valuables against the predatory inroads of the marauders who +roamed through the county. Into this hidden vault, the plate, and +whatever was most prized, made a nightly retreat, and there the ring in +question had long lain, forgotten until at this moment. But it was the +business of the bridegroom, from time immemorial, to furnish this +indispensable to wedlock, and on no account would Miss Peyton do +anything that transcended the usual reserve of the sex on this solemn +occasion; certainly not until sufficient expiation for the offense had +been made, by a due portion of trouble and disquiet. This material +fact, therefore, was not disclosed by either; the aunt consulting +female propriety; the bride yielding to shame; and Frances rejoicing +that an embarrassment, proceeding from almost any cause, should delay +her sister’s vow. It was reserved for Doctor Sitgreaves to interrupt +the awkward silence. + +“If, madam, a plain ring, that once belonged to a sister of my own—” He +paused and hemmed—“If, madam, a ring of that description might be +admitted to this honor, I have one that could be easily produced from +my quarters at the Corners, and I doubt not it would fit the finger for +which it is desired. There is a strong resemblance between—hem—between +my late sister and Miss Wharton in stature and anatomical figure; and, +in all eligible subjects, the proportions are apt to be observed +throughout the whole animal economy.” + +A glance of Miss Peyton’s eye recalled Colonel Wellmere to a sense of +his duty, and springing from his chair, he assured the surgeon that in +no way could he confer a greater obligation on himself than by sending +for that very ring. The operator bowed a little haughtily, and withdrew +to fulfill his promise, by dispatching a messenger on the errand. The +aunt suffered him to retire; but unwillingness to admit a stranger into +the privacy of their domestic arrangements induced her to follow and +tender the services of Caesar, instead of those of Sitgreaves’ man, who +had volunteered for this duty. Katy Haynes was accordingly directed to +summon the black to the vacant parlor, and thither Miss Peyton and the +surgeon repaired, to give their several instructions. + +The consent to this sudden union of Sarah and Wellmere, and especially +at a time when the life of a member of the family was in such imminent +jeopardy, was given from a conviction that the unsettled state of the +country would probably prevent another opportunity to the lovers of +meeting, and a secret dread on the part of Mr. Wharton, that the death +of his son might, by hastening his own, leave his remaining children +without a protector. But notwithstanding Miss Peyton had complied with +her brother’s wish to profit by the accidental visit of a divine, she +had not thought it necessary to blazon the intended nuptials of her +niece to the neighborhood, had even time been allowed; she thought, +therefore, that she was now communicating a profound secret to the +negro, and her housekeeper. + +“Caesar,” she commenced, with a smile, “you are now to learn that your +young mistress, Miss Sarah, is to be united to Colonel Wellmere this +evening.” + +“I t’ink I see him afore,” said Caesar, chuckling. “Old black man can +tell when a young lady make up he mind.” + +“Really, Caesar, I find I have never given you credit for half the +observation that you deserve; but as you already know on what emergency +your services are required, listen to the directions of this gentleman, +and observe them.” + +The black turned in quiet submission to the surgeon, who commenced as +follows:— + +“Caesar, your mistress has already acquainted you with the important +event about to be solemnized within this habitation; but a cincture or +ring is wanting to encircle the finger of the bride; a custom derived +from the ancients, and which has been continued in the marriage forms +of several branches of the Christian church, and which is even, by a +species of typical wedlock, used in the installation of prelates, as +you doubtless understand.” + +“P’r’aps Massa Doctor will say him over ag’in,” interrupted the old +negro, whose memory began to fail him, just as the other made so +confident an allusion to his powers of comprehension. “I t’ink I get +him by heart dis time.” + +“It is impossible to gather honey from a rock, Caesar, and therefore I +will abridge the little I have to say. Ride to the Four Corners, and +present this note to Sergeant Hollister, or to Mrs. Elizabeth Flanagan, +either of whom will furnish the necessary pledge of connubial +affection; and return forthwith.” + +The letter which the surgeon put into the hands of his messenger, as he +ceased, was conceived in the following terms:— + +“If the fever has left Kinder, give him nourishment. Take three ounces +more of blood from Watson. Have a search made that the woman Flanagan +has left none of her jugs of alcohol in the hospital. Renew the +dressings of Johnson, and dismiss Smith to duty. Send the ring, which +is pendent from the chain of the watch, that I left with you to time +the doses, by the bearer. + + +“ARCHIBALD SITGREAVES, M. D.”, +_“Surgeon of Dragoons.”_ + + +“Caesar,” said Katy, when she was alone with the black, “put the ring, +when you get it, in your left pocket, for that is nearest your heart; +and by no means endeavor to try it on your finger, for it is unlucky.” + +“Try um on he finger?” interrupted the negro, stretching forth his bony +knuckles. “T’ink a Miss Sally’s ring go on old Caesar finger?” + +“’Tis not consequential whether it goes on or not,” said the +housekeeper; “but it is an evil omen to place a marriage ring on the +finger of another after wedlock, and of course it may be dangerous +before.” + +“I tell you, Katy, I neber t’ink to put um on a finger.” + +“Go, then, Caesar, and do not forget the left pocket; be careful to +take off your hat as you pass the graveyard, and be expeditious; for +nothing, I am certain, can be more trying to the patience, than thus to +be waiting for the ceremony, when a body has fully made up her mind to +marry.” + +With this injunction Caesar quitted the house, and he was soon firmly +fixed in the saddle. From his youth, the black, like all of his race, +had been a hard rider; but, bending under the weight of sixty winters, +his African blood had lost some of its native heat. The night was dark, +and the wind whistled through the vale with the dreariness of November. +When Caesar reached the graveyard, he uncovered his grizzled head with +superstitious awe, and threw around him many a fearful glance, in +momentary expectation of seeing something superhuman. There was +sufficient light to discern a being of earthly mold stealing from among +the graves, apparently with a design to enter the highway. It is in +vain that philosophy and reason contend with early impressions, and +poor Caesar was even without the support of either of these frail +allies. He was, however, well mounted on a coach horse of Mr. Wharton’s +and, clinging to the back of the animal with instinctive skill, he +abandoned the rein to the beast. Hillocks, woods, rocks, fences, and +houses flew by him with the rapidity of lightning, and the black had +just begun to think whither and on what business he was riding in this +headlong manner, when he reached the place where the roads met, and the +“Hotel Flanagan” stood before him in its dilapidated simplicity. The +sight of a cheerful fire first told the negro that he had reached the +habitation of man, and with it came all his dread of the bloody +Virginians; his duty must, however, be done, and, dismounting, he +fastened the foaming animal to a fence, and approached the window with +cautious steps, to reconnoiter. + +Before a blazing fire sat Sergeant Hollister and Betty Flanagan, +enjoying themselves over a liberal potation. + +“I tell ye, sargeant dear,” said Betty, removing the mug from her +mouth, “’tis no r’asonable to think it was more than the piddler +himself; sure now, where was the smell of sulphur, and the wings, and +the tail, and the cloven foot? Besides, sargeant, it’s no dacent to +tell a lone famale that she had Beelzeboob for a bedfellow.” + +“It matters but little, Mrs. Flanagan, provided you escape his talons +and fangs hereafter,” returned the veteran, following the remark by a +heavy draft. + +Caesar heard enough to convince him that little danger from this pair +was to be apprehended. His teeth already began to chatter, and the cold +without and the comfort within stimulated him greatly to enter. He made +his approaches with proper caution, and knocked with extreme humility. +The appearance of Hollister with a drawn sword, roughly demanding who +was without, contributed in no degree to the restoration of his +faculties; but fear itself lent him power to explain his errand. + +“Advance,” said the sergeant, throwing a look of close scrutiny on the +black, as he brought him to the light; “advance, and deliver your +dispatches. Have you the countersign?” + +“I don’t t’ink he know what dat be,” said the black, shaking in his +shoes, “dough massa dat sent me gib me many t’ings to carry, dat he +little understand.” + +“Who ordered you on this duty, did you say?” + +“Well, it war he doctor, heself, so he come up on a gallop, as he +always do on a doctor’s errand.” + +“’Twas Doctor Sitgreaves; he never knows the countersign himself. Now, +blackey, had it been Captain Lawton he would not have sent you here, +close to a sentinel, without the countersign; for you might get a +pistol bullet through your head, and that would be cruel to you; for +although you be black, I am none of them who thinks niggers have no +souls.” + +“Sure a nagur has as much sowl as a white,” said Betty. “Come hither, +ould man, and warm that shivering carcass of yeers by the blaze of this +fire. I’m sure a Guinea nagur loves hate as much as a soldier loves his +drop.” + +Caesar obeyed in silence, and a mulatto boy who was sleeping on a bench +in the room, was bidden to convey the note of the surgeon to the +building where the wounded were quartered. + +“Here,” said the washerwoman, tendering to Caesar a taste of the +article that most delighted herself, “try a drop, smooty, ’twill warm +the black sowl within your crazy body, and be giving you spirits as you +are going homeward.” + +“I tell you, Elizabeth,” said the sergeant, “that the souls of niggers +are the same as our own; how often have I heard the good Mr. Whitefield +say that there was no distinction of color in heaven. Therefore it is +reasonable to believe that the soul of this here black is as white as +my own, or even Major Dunwoodie’s.” + +“Be sure he be,” cried Caesar, a little tartly, whose courage had +revived by tasting the drop of Mrs. Flanagan. + +“It’s a good sowl that the major is, anyway,” returned the washerwoman; +“and a kind sowl—aye, and a brave sowl too; and ye’ll say all that +yeerself, sargeant, I’m thinking.” + +“For the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “there is One above +even Washington, to judge of souls; but this I will say, that Major +Dunwoodie is a gentleman who never says, Go, boys—but always says, +Come, boys; and if a poor fellow is in want of a spur or a martingale, +and the leather-whack is gone, there is never wanting the real silver +to make up the loss, and that from his own pocket too.” + +“Why, then, are you here idle when all that he holds most dear are in +danger?” cried a voice with startling abruptness. “Mount, mount, and +follow your captain; arm and mount, and that instantly, or you will be +too late!” + +This unexpected interruption produced an instantaneous confusion +amongst the tipplers. Caesar fled instinctively into the fireplace, +where he maintained his position in defiance of a heat that would have +roasted a white man. Sergeant Hollister turned promptly on his heel, +and seizing big saber, the steel was glittering by the firelight, in +the twinkling of an eye; but perceiving the intruder to be the peddler, +who stood near the open door that led to the lean-to in the rear, he +began to fall back towards the position of the black, with a military +intuition that taught him to concentrate his forces. Betty alone stood +her ground, by the side of the temporary table. Replenishing the mug +with a large addition of the article known to the soldiery by the name +of “choke-dog,” she held it towards the peddler. The eyes of the +washerwoman had for some time been swimming with love and liquor, and +turning them good-naturedly on Birch, she cried,— + +“Faith, but ye’re wilcome, Mister Piddler, or Mister Birch, or Mister +Beelzeboob, or what’s yeer name. Ye’re an honest divil anyway, and I’m +hoping that you found the pitticoats convanient. Come forward, dear, +and fale the fire; Sergeant Hollister won’t be hurting you, for the +fear of an ill turn you may be doing him hereafter—will ye, sargeant +dear?” + +“Depart, ungodly man!” cried the veteran, edging still nearer to +Caesar, but lifting his legs alternately as they scorched with the +heat. “Depart in peace! There is none here for thy service, and you +seek the woman in vain. There is a tender mercy that will save her from +thy talons.” The sergeant ceased to utter aloud, but the motion of his +lips continued, and a few scattering words of prayer were alone +audible. + +The brain of the washerwoman was in such a state of confusion that she +did not clearly comprehend the meaning of her suitor, but a new idea +struck her imagination, and she broke forth,— + +“If it’s me the man saaks, where’s the matter, pray? Am I not a widowed +body, and my own property? And you talk of tinderness, sargeant, but +it’s little I see of it, anyway. Who knows but Mr. Beelzeboob here is +free to speak his mind? I’m sure it is willing to hear I am.” + +“Woman,” said the peddler, “be silent; and you, foolish man, mount—arm +and mount, and fly to the rescue of your officer, if you are worthy of +the cause in which you serve, and would not disgrace the coat you +wear.” The peddler vanished from the sight of the bewildered trio, with +a rapidity that left them uncertain whither he had fled. + +On hearing the voice of an old friend, Caesar emerged from his corner, +and fearlessly advanced to the spot where Betty had resolutely +maintained her ground, though in a state of utter mental confusion. + +“I wish Harvey stop,” said the black. “If he ride down a road, I should +like he company; I don’t t’ink Johnny Birch hurt he own son.” + +“Poor, ignorant wretch!” exclaimed the veteran, recovering his voice +with a long-drawn breath; “think you that figure was made of flesh and +blood?” + +“Harvey ain’t fleshy,” replied the black, “but he berry clebber man.” + +“Pooh! sargeant dear,” exclaimed the washerwoman, “talk r’ason for +once, and mind what the knowing one tells ye; call out the boys and +ride a bit after Captain Jack; remimber, darling, that he told ye, the +day, to be in readiness to mount at a moment’s warning.” + +“Aye, but not at a summons from the foul fiend. Let Captain Lawton, or +Lieutenant Mason, or Cornet Skipwith, say the word, and who is quicker +in the saddle than I?” + +“Well, sargeant, how often is it that ye’ve boasted to myself that the +corps wasn’t a bit afeard to face the divil?” + +“No more are we, in battle array, and by daylight; but it’s foolhardy +and irreverent to tempt Satan, and on such a night as this. Listen how +the wind whistles through the trees; and hark! there is the howling of +evil spirits abroad.” + +“I see him,” said Caesar, opening his eyes to a width that might have +embraced more than an ideal form. + +“Where?” interrupted the sergeant, instinctively laying his hand on the +hilt of his saber. + +“No, no,” said the black, “I see a Johnny Birch come out of he +grave—Johnny walk afore he buried.” + +“Ah! then he must have led an evil life indeed,” said Hollister. “The +blessed in spirit lie quiet until the general muster, but wickedness +disturbs the soul in this life as well as in that which is to come.” + +“And what is to come of Captain Jack?” cried Betty, angrily. “Is it +yeer orders that ye won’t mind, nor a warning given? I’ll jist git my +cart, and ride down and tell him that ye’re afeard of a dead man and +Beelzeboob; and it isn’t succor he may be expicting from ye. I wonder +who’ll be the orderly of the troop the morrow, then?—his name won’t be +Hollister, anyway.” + +“Nay, Betty, nay,” said the sergeant, laying his hand familiarly on her +shoulder; “if there must be riding to-night, let it be by him whose +duty it is to call out the men and set an example. The Lord have mercy, +and send us enemies of flesh and blood!” + +Another glass confirmed the veteran in a resolution that was only +excited by a dread of his captain’s displeasure, and he proceeded to +summon the dozen men who had been left under his command. The boy +arriving with the ring, Caesar placed it carefully in the pocket of his +waistcoat next his heart, and, mounting, shut his eyes, seized his +charger by the mane, and continued in a state of comparative +insensibility, until the animal stopped at the door of the warm stable +whence he had started. + +The movements of the dragoons, being timed to the order of a march, +were much slower, for they were made with a watchfulness that was +intended to guard against surprise from the evil one himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Be not your tongue thy own shame’s orator, +Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty, +Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger. + + +—_Comedy of Errors._ + + +The situation of the party in Mr. Wharton’s dwelling was sufficiently +awkward, during the hour of Caesar’s absence; for such was the +astonishing rapidity displayed by his courser, that the four miles of +road was gone over, and the events we have recorded had occurred, +somewhat within that period of time. Of course, the gentlemen strove to +make the irksome moments fly as swiftly as possible; but premeditated +happiness is certainly of the least joyous kind. The bride and +bridegroom are immemorially privileged to be dull, and but few of their +friends seemed disposed, on the present occasion, to dishonor their +example. The English colonel exhibited a proper portion of uneasiness +at this unexpected interruption of his felicity, and he sat with a +varying countenance by the side of Sarah, who seemed to be profiting by +the delay to gather fortitude for the solemn ceremony. In the midst of +this embarrassing silence, Doctor Sitgreaves addressed himself to Miss +Peyton, by whose side he had contrived to procure a chair. “Marriage, +madam, is pronounced to be honorable in the sight of God and man; and +it may be said to be reduced, in the present age, to the laws of nature +and reason. The ancients, in sanctioning polygamy, lost sight of the +provisions of nature, and condemned thousands to misery; but with the +increase of science have grown the wise ordinances of society, which +ordain that man should be the husband of but one woman.” + +Wellmere glanced a fierce expression of disgust at the surgeon, that +indicated his sense of the tediousness of the other’s remarks; while +Miss Peyton, with a slight hesitation, as if fearful of touching on +forbidden subjects, replied,— + +“I had thought, sir, that we were indebted to the Christian religion +for our morals on this subject.” + +“True, madam, it is somewhere provided in the prescriptions of the +apostles, that the sexes should henceforth be on an equality in this +particular. But in what degree could polygamy affect holiness of life? +It was probably a wise arrangement of Paul, who was much of a scholar, +and probably had frequent conferences, on this important subject, with +Luke, whom we all know to have been bred to the practice of medicine—” + +There is no telling how far the discursive fancy of Sitgreaves might +have led him, on this subject, had he not been interrupted. But Lawton, +who had been a close though silent observer of all that passed, +profited by the hint to ask abruptly,— + +“Pray, Colonel Wellmere, in what manner is bigamy punished in England?” + +The bridegroom started, and his lip blanched. Recovering himself, +however, on the instant, he answered with a suavity that became so +happy a man,— + +“Death!—as such an offense merits,” he said. + +“Death and dissection,” continued the operator. “It is seldom that law +loses sight of eventual utility in a malefactor. Bigamy, in a man, is a +heinous offense!” + +“More so than celibacy?” asked Lawton. + +“More so,” returned the surgeon, with undisturbed simplicity. “One who +remains in a single state may devote his life to science and the +extension of knowledge, if not of his species; but the wretch who +profits by the constitutional tendency of the female sex to credulity +and tenderness, incurs the wickedness of a positive sin, heightened by +the baseness of deception.” + +“Really, sir, the ladies are infinitely obliged to you, for attributing +folly to them as part of their nature.” + +“Captain Lawton, in man the animal is more nobly formed than in woman. +The nerves are endowed with less sensibility; the whole frame is less +pliable and yielding; is it therefore surprising, that a tendency to +rely on the faith of her partner is more natural to woman than to the +other sex?” + +Wellmere, as if unable to listen with any degree of patience to so +ill-timed a dialogue, sprang from his seat and paced the floor in +disorder. Pitying his situation, the reverend gentleman, who was +patiently awaiting the return of Caesar, changed the discourse, and a +few minutes brought the black himself. The billet was handed to Dr. +Sitgreaves; for Miss Peyton had expressly enjoined Caesar not to +implicate her, in any manner, in the errand on which he was dispatched. +The note contained a summary statement of the several subjects of the +surgeon’s directions, and referred him to the black for the ring. The +latter was instantly demanded, and promptly delivered. A transient look +of melancholy clouded the brow of the surgeon, as he stood a moment, +and gazed silently on the bauble; nor did he remember the place, or the +occasion, while he mournfully soliloquized as follows:— + +“Poor Anna! gay as innocence and youth could make thee was thy heart, +when this cincture was formed to grace thy nuptials; but ere the hour +had come, God had taken thee to Himself. Years have passed, my sister, +but never have I forgotten the companion of my infancy!” He advanced to +Sarah, and, unconscious of observation, placing the ring on her finger, +continued, “She for whom it was intended has long been in her grave, +and the youth who bestowed the gift soon followed her sainted spirit; +take it, madam, and God grant that it may be an instrument in making +you as happy as you deserve!” + +Sarah felt a chill at her heart, as this burst of feeling escaped the +surgeon; but Wellmere offering his hand, she was led before the divine, +and the ceremony began. The first words of this imposing office +produced a dead stillness in the apartment; and the minister of God +proceeded to the solemn exhortation, and witnessed the plighted troth +of the parties, when the investiture was to follow. The ring had been +left, from inadvertency and the agitation of the moment, on the finger +where Sitgreaves had placed it; the slight interruption occasioned by +the circumstance was over, and the clergyman was about to proceed, when +a figure gliding into the midst of the party, at once put a stop to the +ceremony. It was the peddler. His look was bitter and ironical, while a +finger, raised towards the divine, seemed to forbid the ceremony to go +any further. + +“Can Colonel Wellmere waste the precious moments here, when his wife +has crossed the ocean to meet him? The nights are long, and the moon +bright; a few hours will take him to the city.” + +Aghast at the suddenness of this extraordinary address, Wellmere for a +moment lost the command of his faculties. To Sarah, the countenance of +Birch, expressive as it was, produced no terror; but the instant she +recovered from the surprise of his interruption, she turned her anxious +gaze on the features of the man to whom she had just pledged her troth. +They afforded the most terrible confirmation of all that the peddler +affirmed; the room whirled round, and she fell lifeless into the arms +of her aunt. There is an instinctive delicacy in woman, that seems to +conquer all other emotions; and the insensible bride was immediately +conveyed from sight, leaving the room to the sole possession of the +other sex. + +The confusion enabled the peddler to retreat with a rapidity that would +have baffled pursuit, had any been attempted, and Wellmere stood with +every eye fixed on him, in ominous silence. + +“’Tis false—’tis false as hell!” he cried, striking his forehead. “I +have ever denied her claim; nor will the laws of my country compel me +to acknowledge it.” + +“But what will conscience and the laws of God do?” asked Lawton. + +“’Tis well, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily, and retreating towards the +door, “my situation protects you now; but a time may come—” + +He had reached the entry, when a slight tap on his shoulder caused him +to turn his head; it was Captain Lawton, who, with a smile of peculiar +meaning, beckoned him to follow. The state of Wellmere’s mind was such, +that he would gladly have gone anywhere to avoid the gaze of horror and +detestation that glared from every eye he met. They reached the stables +before the trooper spoke, when he cried aloud,— + +“Bring out Roanoke!” + +His man appeared with the steed caparisoned for its master. Lawton, +coolly throwing the bridle on the neck of the animal, took his pistols +from the holsters, and continued, “Here are weapons that have seen good +service before to-day—aye, and in honorable hands, sir. These were the +pistols of my father, Colonel Wellmere; he used them with credit in the +wars with France, and gave them to me to fight the battles of my +country with. In what better way can I serve her than in exterminating +a wretch who would have blasted one of her fairest daughters?” + +“This injurious treatment shall meet with its reward,” cried the other, +seizing the offered weapon. “The blood lie on the head of him who +sought it!” + +“Amen! but hold a moment, sir. You are now free, and the passports of +Washington are in your pocket; I give you the fire; if I fall, there is +a steed that will outstrip pursuit; and I would advise you to retreat +without much delay, for even Archibald Sitgreaves would fight in such a +cause—nor will the guard above be very apt to give quarter.” + +“Are you ready?” asked Wellmere, gnashing his teeth with rage. + +“Stand forward, Tom, with the lights; fire!” + +Wellmere fired, and the bullion flew from the epaulet of the trooper. + +“Now the turn is mine,” said Lawton, deliberately leveling his pistol. + +“And mine!” shouted a voice, as the weapon was struck from his hand. +“By all the devils in hell, ’tis the mad Virginian!—fall on, my boys, +and take him; this is a prize not hoped for!” + +Unarmed, and surprised as he was, Lawton’s presence of mind did not +desert him; he felt that he was in the hands of those from whom he was +to expect no mercy; and, as four of the Skinners fell upon him at once, +he used his gigantic strength to the utmost. Three of the band grasped +him by the neck and arms, with an intent to clog his efforts, and +pinion him with ropes. The first of these he threw from him, with a +violence that sent him against the building, where he lay stunned with +the blow. But the fourth seized his legs; and, unable to contend with +such odds, the trooper came to the earth, bringing with him all of his +assailants. The struggle on the ground was short but terrific; curses +and the most dreadful imprecations were uttered by the Skinners, who in +vain called on more of their band, who were gazing on the combat in +nerveless horror, to assist. A difficulty of breathing, from one of the +combatants, was heard, accompanied by the stifled moanings of a +strangled man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, shaking +himself free from the wild grasp of the others. Both Wellmere and the +servant of Lawton had fled: the former to the stables, and the latter +to give the alarm, leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect +sprang into the saddle of the unheeded charger; sparks of fire, issuing +from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary light by which the +captain was seen dashing like the wind towards the highway. + +“By hell, he’s off!” cried the leader, hoarse with rage and exhaustion. +“Fire!—bring him down—fire, or you’ll be too late.” + +The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense followed, in the vain +hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton tumbling from his steed. + +“He would not fall if you had killed him,” muttered one. “I’ve known +these Virginians sit their horses with two or three balls through them; +aye, even after they were dead.” + +A freshening of the wind wafted the tread of a horse down the valley, +which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider governing its motion. + +“These trained horses always stop when the rider falls,” observed one +of the gang. + +“Then,” cried the leader, striking his musket on the ground in a rage, +“the fellow is safe!—to your business at once. A short half hour will +bring down that canting sergeant and the guard upon us. ’Twill be lucky +if the guns don’t turn them out. Quick, to your posts, and fire the +house in the chambers; smoking ruins are good to cover evil deeds.” + +“What is to be done with this lump of earth?” cried another, pushing +the body that yet lay insensible, where it had been hurled by the arm +of Lawton; “a little rubbing would bring him to.” + +“Let him lie,” said the leader, fiercely. “Had he been half a man, that +dragooning rascal would have been in my power; enter the house, I say, +and fire the chambers. We can’t go amiss here; there is plate and money +enough to make you all gentlemen—and revenge too.” + +The idea of silver in any way was not to be resisted; and, leaving +their companion, who began to show faint signs of life, they rushed +tumultuously towards the dwelling. Wellmere availed himself of the +opportunity, and, stealing from the stable with his own charger, he was +able to gain the highway unnoticed. For an instant he hesitated, +whether to ride towards the point where he knew the guard was +stationed, and endeavor to rescue the family, or, profiting by his +liberty and the exchange that had been effected by the divine, to seek +the royal army. Shame, and a consciousness of guilt, determined him to +take the latter course, and he rode towards New York, stung with the +reflection of his own baseness, and harassed with the apprehension of +meeting with an enraged woman, that he had married during his late +visit to England, but whose claims, as soon as his passion was sated, +he had resolved never willingly to admit. In the tumult and agitation +of the moment, the retreat of Lawton and Wellmere was but little +noticed; the condition of Mr. Wharton demanding the care and +consolation of both the surgeon and the divine. The report of the +firearms at first roused the family to the sense of a new danger, and +but a moment elapsed before the leader, and one more of the gang, +entered the room. + +“Surrender! you servants of King George,” shouted the leader, +presenting his musket to the breast of Sitgreaves, “or I will let a +little tory blood from your veins.” + +“Gently—gently, my friend,” said the surgeon. “You are doubtless more +expert in inflicting wounds than in healing them; the weapon that you +hold so indiscreetly is extremely dangerous to animal life.” + +“Yield, or take its contents.” + +“Why and wherefore should I yield?—I am a noncombatant. The articles of +capitulation must be arranged with Captain John Lawton; though +yielding, I believe, is not a subject on which you will find him +particularly complying.” + +The fellow had by this time taken such a survey of the group, as +convinced him that little danger was to be apprehended from resistance, +and, eager to seize his share of the plunder, he dropped his musket, +and was soon busy with the assistance of his men, in arranging divers +articles of plate in bags. The cottage now presented a singular +spectacle. The ladies were gathered around Sarah, who yet continued +insensible, in one of the rooms that had escaped the notice of the +marauders. Mr. Wharton sat in a state of perfect imbecility, listening +to, but not profiting by, the meaning words of comfort that fell from +the lips of the clergyman. Singleton was lying on a sofa, shaking with +debility, and inattentive to surrounding objects; while the surgeon was +administering restoratives, and looking at the dressings, with a +coolness that mocked the tumult. Caesar and the attendant of Captain +Singleton, had retreated to the wood in the rear of the cottage, and +Katy Haynes was flying about the building, busily employed in forming a +bundle of valuables, from which, with the most scrupulous honesty, she +rejected every article that was not really and truly her own. + +But to return to the party at the Four Corners. When the veteran had +got his men mounted and under arms, a restless desire to participate in +the glory and dangers of the expedition came over the washerwoman. +Whether she was impelled to the undertaking by a dread of remaining +alone, or a wish to hasten in person to the relief of her favorite, we +will not venture to assert but, as Hollister was giving the orders to +wheel and march, the voice of Betty was heard, exclaiming,— + +“Stop a bit, sargeant dear, till two of the boys get out the cart, and +I’ll jist ride wid ye; ’tis like there’ll be wounded, and it will be +mighty convanient to bring them home in.” + +Although inwardly much pleased with any cause of delay to a service +that he so little relished, Hollister affected some displeasure at the +detention. + +“Nothing but a cannon ball can take one of my lads from his charger,” +he said; “and it’s not very likely that we shall have as fair fighting +as cannon and musketry, in a business of the evil one’s inventing; so, +Elizabeth, you may go if you will, but the cart will not be wanting.” + +“Now, sargeant dear, you lie, anyway,” said Betty, who was somewhat +unduly governed by her potations. “And wasn’t Captain Singleton shot +off his horse but tin days gone by? Aye, and Captain Jack himself too; +and didn’t he lie on the ground, face uppermost and back downwards, +looking grim? And didn’t the boys t’ink him dead, and turn and l’ave +the rig’lars the day?” + +“You lie back again,” cried the sergeant, fiercely; “and so does anyone +who says that we didn’t gain the day.” + +“For a bit or so—only I mane for a bit or so,” said the washerwoman; +“but Major Dunwoodie turned you, and so you licked the rig’lars. But +the captain it was that fell, and I’m thinking that there’s no better +rider going; so, sargeant, it’s the cart will be convanient. Here, two +of you, jist hitch the mare to the tills, and it’s no whisky that ye’ll +be wanting the morrow; and put the piece of Jenny’s hide under the pad; +the baste is never the better for the rough ways of the county +Westchester.” The consent of the sergeant being obtained, the equipage +of Mrs. Flanagan was soon in readiness to receive its burden. + +“As it is quite uncertain whether we shall be attacked in front, or in +rear,” said Hollister, “five of you shall march in advance, and the +remainder shall cover our retreat towards the barrack, should we be +pressed. ’Tis an awful moment to a man of little learning, Elizabeth, +to command in such a service; for my part, I wish devoutly that one of +the officers were here; but my trust is in the Lord.” + +“Pooh! man, away wid ye,” said the washerwoman, who had got herself +comfortably seated. “The divil a bit of an inimy is there near. March +on, hurry-skurry, and let the mare trot, or it’s but little that +Captain Jack will thank ye for the help.” + +“Although unlearned in matters of communicating with spirits, or laying +the dead, Mrs. Flanagan,” said the veteran, “I have not served through +the old war, and five years in this, not to know how to guard the +baggage. Doesn’t Washington always cover the baggage? I am not to be +told my duty by a camp follower. Fall in as you are ordered, and dress, +men.” + +“Well, march, anyway,” cried the impatient washerwoman. “The black is +there already, and it’s tardy the captain will think ye.” + +“Are you sure that it was really a black man that brought the order?” +said the sergeant, dropping in between the platoons, where he could +converse with Betty, and be at hand, to lead on an emergency, either on +an advance or on a retreat. + +“Nay—and I’m sure of nothing, dear. But why don’t the boys prick their +horses and jog a trot? The mare is mighty un’asy, and it’s no warm in +this cursed valley, riding as much like a funeral party as old rags is +to continental.”[10] “Fairly and softly, aye, and prudently, Mrs. +Flanagan; it’s not rashness that makes the good officer. If we have to +encounter a spirit, it’s more than likely he’ll make his attack by +surprise; horses are not very powerful in the dark, and I have a +character to lose, good woman.” + +“Caractur! and isn’t it caractur and life too that Captain Jack has to +lose!” + +“Halt!” cried the sergeant. “What is that lurking near the foot of the +rock, on the left?” + +“Sure, it’s nothing, unless it be a matter of Captain Jack’s sowl +that’s come to haunt ye, for not being brisker on the march.” + +“Betty, your levity makes you an unfit comrade for such an expedition. +Advance, one of you, and reconnoiter the spot; draw swords!—rear rank, +close to the front!” + +“Pshaw!” shouted Betty, “is it a big fool or a big coward that ye are? +Jist wheel from the road, boys, and I’ll shove the mare down upon it in +the twinkling of an eye—and it’s no ghost that I fear.” + +By this time one of the men had returned, and declared there was +nothing to prevent their advancing, and the party continued their +march, but with great deliberation and caution. + +“Courage and prudence are the jewels of a soldier, Mrs. Flanagan,” said +the sergeant; “without the one, the other may be said to be good for +nothing.” + +“Prudence without courage: is it _that_ you mane?—and it’s so that I’m +thinking myself, sargeant. This baste pulls tight on the reins, any +way.” + +“Be patient, good woman; hark! what is that?” said Hollister, pricking +up his ears at the report of Wellmere’s pistol. “I’ll swear that was a +human pistol, and one from our regiment. Rear rank, close to the +front!—Mrs. Flanagan, I must leave you.” So saying, having recovered +all his faculties, by hearing a sound that he understood, he placed +himself at the head of his men with an air of military pride, that the +darkness prevented the washerwoman from beholding. A volley of musketry +now rattled in the night wind, and the sergeant exclaimed,— + +“March!—quick time!” + +The next instant the trampling of a horse was heard coming up the road, +at a rate that announced a matter of life or death; and Hollister again +halted his party, riding a short distance in front himself, to meet the +rider. + +“Stand!—who goes there?” shouted Hollister. + +“Ha! Hollister, is it you?” cried Lawton, “ever ready and at your post; +but where is the guard?” + +“At hand, sir, and ready to follow you through thick and thin,” said +the veteran, relieved at once from responsibility, and as eager as a +boy to be led against his enemy. + +“’Tis well!” said the trooper, riding up to his men; then, speaking a +few words of encouragement, he led them down the valley at a rate but +little less rapid than his approach. The miserable horse of the sutler +was soon distanced, and Betty, thus thrown out in the chase, turned to +the side of the road, and observed,— + +“There—it’s no difficult to tell that Captain Jack is wid ’em, anyway; +and away they go like so many nagur boys to a husking-frolic; well, +I’ll jist hitch the mare to this bit of a fence, and walk down and see +the sport afoot—it’s no r’asonable to expose the baste to be hurted.” + +Led on by Lawton, the men followed, destitute alike of fear and +reflection. Whether it was a party of the refugees, or a detachment +from the royal army, that they were to assail, they were profoundly +ignorant; but they knew that the officer in advance was distinguished +for courage and personal prowess; and these are virtues that are sure +to captivate the thoughtless soldiery. On arriving near the gates of +the Locusts, the trooper halted his party, and made his arrangements +for the assault. Dismounting, he ordered eight of his men to follow his +example, and turning to Hollister, said,— + +“Stand you here, and guard the horses; if anything attempt to pass, +stop it, or cut it down, and—” + +The flames at this moment burst through the dormer windows and cedar +roof of the cottage, and a bright light glared on the darkness of the +night. “On!” shouted the trooper “on!—give quarter when you have done +justice!” + +There was a startling fierceness in the voice of the trooper that +reached to the heart, even amid the horrors of the cottage. The leader +of the Skinners dropped his plunder, and, for a moment, he stood in +nerveless dread; then rushing to a window, he threw up the sash; at +this instant Lawton entered, saber in hand, into the apartment. + +“Die, miscreant!” cried the trooper, cleaving a marauder to the jaw; +but the leader sprang into the lawn, and escaped his vengeance. The +shrieks of the females restored Lawton to his presence of mind, and the +earnest entreaty of the divine induced him to attend to the safety of +the family. One more of the gang fell in with the dragoons, and met his +death; but the remainder had taken the alarm in season. Occupied with +Sarah, neither Miss Singleton, nor the ladies of the house, had +discovered the entrance of the Skinners, though the flames were raging +around them with a fury that threatened the building with rapid +destruction. The shrieks of Katy and the terrified consort of Caesar, +together with the noise and uproar in the adjacent apartment, first +roused Miss Peyton and Isabella to a sense of their danger. + +“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the alarmed aunt; “there is a dreadful +confusion in the house, and there will be blood shed in consequence of +this affair.” + +“There are none to fight,” returned Isabella, with a face paler than +that of the other. “Dr. Sitgreaves is very peaceable in his +disposition, and surely Captain Lawton would not forget himself so +far.” + +“The Southern temper is quick and fiery,” continued Miss Peyton; “and +your brother, feeble and weak as he is, has looked the whole afternoon +flushed and angry.” + +“Good heaven!” cried Isabella, with difficulty supporting herself on +the couch of Sarah; “he is gentle as the lamb by nature, though the +lion is not his equal when roused.” + +“We must interfere: our presence will quell the tumult, and possibly +save the life of a fellow creature.” + +Miss Peyton, excited to attempt what she conceived a duty worthy of her +sex and nature, advanced with the dignity of injured female feeling, to +the door, followed by Isabella. The apartment to which Sarah had been +conveyed was in one of the wings of the building, and it communicated +with the principal hall of the cottage by a long and dark passage. This +was now light, and across its termination several figures were seen +rushing with an impetuosity that prevented an examination of their +employment. + +“Let us advance,” said Miss Peyton, with a firmness her face belied; +“they must respect our sex.” + +“They shall,” cried Isabella, taking the lead in the enterprise. +Frances was left alone with her sister. A few minutes were passed in +silence, when a loud crash, in the upper apartments, was succeeded by a +bright light that glared through the open door, and made objects as +distinct to the eye as if they were placed under a noonday sun. Sarah +raised herself on her bed, and staring wildly around, pressed both her +hands on her forehead, endeavoring to recollect herself. + +“This, then, is heaven—and you are one of its bright spirits. Oh! how +glorious is its radiance! I had thought the happiness I have lately +experienced was too much for earth. But we shall meet again; yes—yes—we +shall meet again.” + +“Sarah! Sarah!” cried Frances, in terror; “my sister—my only sister—Oh! +do not smile so horridly; know me, or you will break my heart.” + +“Hush,” said Sarah raising her hand for silence; “you may disturb his +rest—surely, he will follow me to the grave. Think you there can be two +wives in the grave? No—no—no; one—one—one—only one.” + +Frances dropped her head into the lap of her sister, and wept in agony. + +“Do you shed tears, sweet angel?” continued Sarah, soothingly. “Then +heaven is not exempt from grief. But where is Henry? He was executed, +and he must be here too; perhaps they will come together. Oh! how +joyful will be the meeting!” + +Frances sprang on her feet, and paced the apartment. The eye of Sarah +followed her in childish admiration of her beauty. + +“You look like my sister; but all good and lovely spirits are alike. +Tell me, were you ever married? Did you ever let a stranger steal your +affections from father, and brother, and sister? If not, poor wretch, I +pity you, although you may be in heaven.” + +“Sarah—peace, peace—I implore you to be silent,” shrieked Frances, +rushing to her bed, “or you will kill me at your feet.” + +Another dreadful crash shook the building to its center. It was the +falling of the roof, and the flames threw their light abroad, so as to +make objects visible around the cottage, through the windows of the +room. Frances flew to one of them, and saw the confused group that was +collected on the lawn. Among them were her aunt and Isabella, pointing +with distraction to the fiery edifice, and apparently urging the +dragoons to enter it. For the first time she comprehended their danger; +and uttering a wild shriek, she flew through the passage without +consideration, or object. + +A dense and suffocating column of smoke opposed her progress. She +paused to breathe, when a man caught her in his arms, and bore her, in +a state of insensibility, through the falling embers and darkness, to +the open air. The instant that Frances recovered her recollection, she +perceived that she owed her life Lo Lawton, and throwing herself on her +knees, she cried,— + +“Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! save my sister, and may the blessing of God await +you!” + +Her strength failed, and she sank on the grass, in insensibility. The +trooper pointed to her figure, motioned to Katy for assistance, and +advanced once more to the building. The fire had already communicated +to the woodwork of the piazzas and windows, and the whole exterior of +the cottage was covered with smoke. The only entrance was through these +dangers, and even the hardy and impetuous Lawton paused to consider. It +was for a moment only, when he dashed into the heat and darkness, +where, missing the entrance, he wandered for a minute, and precipitated +himself back, again, upon the lawn. Drawing a single breath of pure +air, he renewed the effort, and was again unsuccessful. On a third +trial, he met a man staggering under the load of a human body. It was +neither the place, nor was there time, to question, or to make +distinctions; seizing both in his arms, with gigantic strength, he bore +them through the smoke. He soon perceived, to his astonishment, that it +was the surgeon, and the body of one of the Skinners, that he had +saved. + +“Archibald!” he exclaimed, “why, in the name of justice, did you bring +this miscreant to light again? His deeds are rank to heaven!” + +The surgeon, who had been in imminent peril, was too much bewildered to +reply instantly, but wiping the moisture from his forehead, and +clearing his lungs from the vapor he had inhaled, he said piteously,— + +“Ah! it is all over! Had I been in time to have stopped the effusion +from the jugular, he might have been saved; but the heat was conducive +to hemorrhage; life is extinct indeed. Well, are there any more +wounded?” + +His question was put to the air, for Frances had been removed to the +opposite side of the building, where her friends were collected, and +Lawton had once more disappeared in the smoke. + +By this time the flames had dispersed much of the suffocating vapor, so +that the trooper was able to find the door, and in its very entrance he +was met by a man supporting the insensible Sarah. There was but barely +time to reach the lawn again, before the fire broke through the +windows, and wrapped the whole building in a sheet of flame. + +“God be praised!” ejaculated the preserver of Sarah. “It would have +been a dreadful death to die.” + +The trooper turned from gazing at the edifice, to the speaker, and to +his astonishment, instead of one of his own men, he beheld the peddler. + +“Ha! the spy,” he exclaimed; “by heavens, you cross me like a specter.” + +“Captain Lawton,” said Birch, leaning in momentary exhaustion against +the fence, to which they had retired from the heat, “I am again in your +power, for I can neither flee, nor resist.” + +“The cause of America is dear to me as life,” said the trooper, “but +she cannot require her children to forget gratitude and honor. Fly, +unhappy man, while yet you are unseen, or it will exceed my power to +save you.” + +“May God prosper you, and make you victorious over your enemies,” said +Birch, grasping the hand of the dragoon with an iron strength that his +meager figure did not indicate. + +“Hold!” said Lawton. “But a word—are you what you seem?—can you—are +you—” + +“A royal spy,” interrupted Birch, averting his face, and endeavoring to +release his hand. + +“Then go, miserable wretch,” said the trooper, relinquishing his grasp. +“Either avarice or delusion has led a noble heart astray!” + +The bright light from the flames reached a great distance around the +ruins, but the words were hardly past the lips of Lawton, before the +gaunt form of the peddler had glided over the visible space, and +plunged into the darkness beyond. + +The eye of Lawton rested for a moment on the spot where he had last +seen this inexplicable man, and then turning to the yet insensible +Sarah, he lifted her in his arms, and bore her, like a sleeping infant, +to the care of her friends. + + [10] The paper money issued by congress was familiarly called + continental money. This term “continental” was applied to the army, + the congress, the ships of war, and in short, to almost everything of + interest which belonged to the new government. It would seem to have + been invented as the opposite of the insular position of the mother + country. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +And now her charms are fading fast, +Her spirits now no more are gay: +Alas! that beauty cannot last! +That flowers so sweet so soon decay! +How sad appears +The vale of years, +How changed from youth’s too flattering scene! +Where are her fond admirers gone? +Alas! and shall there then be none +On whom her soul may lean? + + +—_Cynthia’s Grave_. + + +The walls of the cottage were all that was left of the building; and +these, blackened by smoke, and stripped of their piazzas and ornaments, +were but dreary memorials of the content and security that had so +lately reigned within. The roof, together with the rest of the +woodwork, had tumbled into the cellars, and a pale and flitting light, +ascending from their embers, shone faintly through the windows. The +early flight of the Skinners left the dragoons at liberty to exert +themselves in saving much of the furniture, which lay scattered in +heaps on the lawn, giving the finishing touch of desolation to the +scene. Whenever a stronger ray of light than common shot upwards, the +composed figures of Sergeant Hollister and his associates, sitting on +their horses in rigid discipline, were to be seen in the background of +the picture, together with the beast of Mrs. Flanagan, which, having +slipped its bridle, was quietly grazing by the highway. Betty herself +had advanced to the spot where the sergeant was posted, and, with an +incredible degree of composure, witnessed the whole of the events as +they occurred. More than once she suggested to her companion, that, as +the fighting seemed to be over, the proper time for plunder had +arrived, but the veteran acquainted her with his orders, and remained +inflexible and immovable; until the washerwoman, observing Lawton come +round the wing of the building with Sarah, ventured amongst the +warriors. The captain, after placing Sarah on a sofa that had been +hurled from the building by two of his men, retired, that the ladies +might succeed him in his care. Miss Peyton and her niece flew, with a +rapture that was blessed with a momentary forgetfulness of all but her +preservation, to receive Sarah from the trooper; but the vacant eye and +flushed cheek restored them instantly to their recollection. + +“Sarah, my child, my beloved niece,” said the former, folding the +unconscious bride in her arms, “you are saved, and may the blessing of +God await him who has been the instrument.” + +“See,” said Sarah, gently pushing her aunt aside, and pointing to the +glimmering ruins, “the windows are illuminated in honor of my arrival. +They always receive a bride thus—he told me they would do no less. +Listen, and you will hear the bells.” + +“Here is no bride, no rejoicing, nothing but woe!” cried Frances, in a +manner but little less frantic than that of her sister. “Oh! may heaven +restore you to us—to yourself!” + +“Peace, foolish young woman,” said Sarah, with a smile of affected +pity; “all cannot be happy at the same moment; perhaps you have no +brother, or husband, to console you. You look beautiful, and you will +yet find one; but,” she continued, dropping her voice to a whisper, +“see that he has no other wife—’tis dreadful to think what might +happen, should he be twice married.” + +“The shock has destroyed her mind,” cried Miss Peyton; “my child, my +beauteous Sarah is a maniac!” + +“No, no, no,” cried Frances, “it is fever; she is lightheaded—she must +recover—she shall recover.” + +The aunt caught joyfully at the hope conveyed in this suggestion, and +dispatched Katy to request the immediate aid and advice of Dr. +Sitgreaves. The surgeon was found inquiring among the men for +professional employment, and inquisitively examining every bruise and +scratch that he could induce the sturdy warriors to acknowledge they +had received. A summons, of the sort conveyed by Katy, was instantly +obeyed, and not a minute elapsed before he was by the side of Miss +Peyton. + +“This is a melancholy termination to so joyful a commencement of the +night, madam,” he observed, in a soothing manner. “But war must bring +its attendant miseries; though doubtless it often supports the cause of +liberty, and improves the knowledge of surgical science.” + +Miss Peyton could make no reply, but pointed to her niece. + +“’Tis fever,” answered Frances; “see how glassy is her eye, and look at +her cheek, how flushed.” + +The surgeon stood for a moment, deeply studying the outward symptoms of +his patient, and then he silently took her hand in his own. It was +seldom that the hard and abstracted features of Sitgreaves discovered +any violent emotion; all his passions seemed schooled, and his +countenance did not often betray what, indeed, his heart frequently +felt. In the present instance, however, the eager gaze of the aunt and +sister quickly detected his emotions. After laying his fingers for a +minute on the beautiful arm, which, bared to the elbow and glittering +with jewels, Sarah suffered him to retain, he dropped it, and dashing a +hand over his eyes, turned sorrowfully away. + +“Here is no fever to excite—’tis a case, my dear madam, for time and +care only; these, with the blessing of God, may effect a cure.” + +“And where is the wretch who has caused this ruin?” exclaimed +Singleton, rejecting the support of his man, and making an effort to +rise from the chair to which he had been driven by debility. “It is in +vain that we overcome our enemies, if, conquered, they can inflict such +wounds as this.” + +“Dost think, foolish boy,” said Lawton, with a bitter smile, “that +hearts can feel in a colony? What is America but a satellite of +England—to move as she moves, follow where she wists, and shine, that +the mother country may become more splendid by her radiance? Surely you +forget that it is honor enough for a colonist to receive ruin from the +hand of a child of Britain.” + +“I forget not that I wear a sword,” said Singleton, falling back +exhausted; “but was there no willing arm ready to avenge that lovely +sufferer—to appease the wrongs of this hoary father?” + +“Neither arms nor hearts are wanting, sir, in such a cause,” said the +trooper, fiercely; “but chance oftentimes helps the wicked. By heavens, +I’d give Roanoke himself, for a clear field with the miscreant!” + +“Nay! captain dear, no be parting with the horse, anyway,” said Betty. +“It is no trifle that can be had by jist asking of the right person, if +ye’re in need of silver; and the baste is sure of foot, and jumps like +a squirrel.” + +“Woman, fifty horses, aye, the best that were ever reared on the banks +of the Potomac, would be but a paltry price, for one blow at a +villain.” + +“Come,” said the surgeon, “the night air can do no service to George, +or these ladies, and it is incumbent on us to remove them where they +can find surgical attendance and refreshment. Here is nothing but +smoking ruins and the miasma of the swamps.” + +To this rational proposition no objection could be raised, and the +necessary orders were issued by Lawton to remove the whole party to the +Four Corners. + +America furnished but few and very indifferent carriage-makers at the +period of which we write, and every vehicle, that in the least aspired +to that dignity, was the manufacture of a London mechanic. When Mr. +Wharton left the city, he was one of the very few who maintained the +state of a carriage; and, at the time Miss Peyton and his daughters +joined him in his retirement, they had been conveyed to the cottage in +the heavy chariot that had once so imposingly rolled through the +windings of Queen Street, or emerged, with somber dignity, into the +more spacious drive of Broadway. This vehicle stood, undisturbed, where +it had been placed on its arrival, and the age of the horses alone had +protected the favorites of Caesar from sequestration by the contending +forces in their neighborhood. With a heavy heart, the black, assisted +by a few of the dragoons, proceeded to prepare it for the reception of +the ladies. It was a cumbrous vehicle, whose faded linings and +tarnished hammer-cloth, together with its panels of changing color, +denoted the want of that art which had once given it luster and beauty. +The “lion couchant” of the Wharton arms was reposing on the reviving +splendor of a blazonry that told the armorial bearings of a prince of +the church; and the miter, that began to shine through its American +mask, was a symbol of the rank of its original owner. The chaise which +conveyed Miss Singleton was also safe, for the stable and outbuildings +had entirely escaped the flames; it certainly had been no part of the +plan of the marauders to leave so well-appointed a stud behind them, +but the suddenness of the attack by Lawton, not only disconcerted their +arrangements on this point, but on many others also. A guard was left +on the ground, under the command of Hollister, who, having discovered +that his enemy was of mortal mold, took his position with admirable +coolness and no little skill, to guard against surprise. He drew off +his small party to such a distance from the ruins, that it was +effectually concealed in the darkness, while at the same time the light +continued sufficiently power ful to discover anyone who might approach +the lawn with an intent to plunder. + +Satisfied with this judicious arrangement, Captain Lawton made his +dispositions for the march. Miss Peyton, her two nieces, and Isabella +were placed in the chariot, while the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, amply +supplied with blankets and a bed, was honored with the person of +Captain Singleton. Dr. Sitgreaves took charge of the chaise and Mr. +Wharton. What became of the rest of the family during that eventful +night is unknown, for Caesar alone, of the domestics, was to be found, +if we except the housekeeper. Having disposed of the whole party in +this manner, Lawton gave the word to march. He remained himself, for a +few minutes, alone on the lawn, secreting various pieces of plate and +other valuables, that he was fearful might tempt the cupidity of his +own men; when, perceiving nothing more that he conceived likely to +overcome their honesty, he threw himself into the saddle with the +soldierly intention of bringing up the rear. + +“Stop, stop,” cried a female voice. “Will you leave me alone to be +murdered? The spoon is melted, I believe, and I’ll have compensation, +if there’s law or justice in this unhappy land.” + +Lawton turned an eye in the direction of the sound, and perceived a +female emerging from the ruins, loaded with a bundle that vied in size +with the renowned pack of the peddler. + +“Whom have we here,” said the trooper, “rising like a phoenix from the +flames? Oh! by the soul of Hippocrates, but it is the identical +she-doctor, of famous needle reputation. Well, good woman, what means +this outcry?” + +“Outcry!” echoed Katy, panting for breath. “Is it not disparagement +enough to lose a silver spoon, but I must be left alone in this +lonesome place, to be robbed, and perhaps murdered? Harvey would not +serve me so; when I lived with Harvey, I was always treated with +respect at least, if he was a little close with his secrets, and +wasteful of his money.” + +“Then, madam, you once formed part of the household of Mr. Harvey +Birch?” + +“You may say I was the whole of his household,” returned the other; +“there was nobody but I, and he, and the old gentleman. You didn’t know +the old gentleman, perhaps?” + +“That happiness was denied me. How long did you live in the family of +Mr. Birch?” + +“I disremember the precise time, but it must have been hard on upon +nine years; and what better am I for it all?” + +“Sure enough; I can see but little benefit that you have derived from +the association, truly. But is there not something unusual in the +movements and character of this Mr. Birch?” + +“Unusual is an easy word for such unaccountables!” replied Katy, +lowering her voice and looking around her. “He was a wonderful +disregardful man, and minded a guinea no more than I do a kernel of +corn. But help me to some way of joining Miss Jinitt, and I will tell +you prodigies of what Harvey has done, first and last.” + +“You will!” exclaimed the trooper, musing. “Here, give me leave to feel +your arm above the elbow. There—you are not deficient in bone, let the +blood be as it may.” So saying, he gave the spinster a sudden whirl, +that effectually confused all her faculties, until she found herself +safely, if not comfortably, seated on the crupper of Lawton’s steed. + +“Now, madam, you have the consolation of knowing that you are as well +mounted as Washington. The nag is sure of foot, and will leap like a +panther.” + +“Let me get down,” cried Katy, struggling to release herself from his +iron grasp, and yet afraid of falling. “This is no way to put a woman +on a horse; besides, I can’t ride without a pillion.” + +“Softly, good madam,” said Lawton; “for although Roanoke never falls +before, he sometimes rises behind. He is far from being accustomed to a +pair of heels beating upon his flanks like a drum major on a field day; +a single touch of the spur will serve him for a fortnight, and it is by +no means wise to be kicking in this manner, for he is a horse that but +little likes to be outdone.” + +“Let me down, I say,” screamed Katy; “I shall fall and be killed. +Besides, I have nothing to hold on with; my arms are full of +valuables.” + +“True,” returned the trooper, observing that he had brought bundle and +all from the ground. “I perceive that you belong to the baggage guard; +but my sword belt will encircle your little waist, as well as my own.” + +Katy was too much pleased with this compliment to make any resistance, +while he buckled her close to his own herculean frame, and, driving a +spur into his charger, they flew from the lawn with a rapidity that +defied further denial. After proceeding for some time, at a rate that a +good deal discomposed the spinster, they overtook the cart of the +washerwoman driving slowly over the stones, with a proper consideration +for the wounds of Captain Singleton. The occurrences of that eventful +night had produced an excitement in the young soldier, that was +followed by the ordinary lassitude of reaction and he lay carefully +enveloped in blankets, and supported by his man, but little able to +converse, though deeply brooding over the past. The dialogue between +Lawton and his companion ceased with the commencement of their motions, +but a footpace being more favorable to speech, the trooper began anew: + +“Then, you have been an inmate in the same house with Harvey Birch?” + +“For more than nine years,” said Katy, drawing her breath, and +rejoicing greatly that their speed was abated. + +The deep tones of the trooper’s voice were no sooner conveyed to the +ears of the washerwoman, than, turning her head, where she sat +directing the movements of the mare, she put into the discourse at the +first pause. + +“Belike, then, good woman, ye’re knowing whether or no he’s akin to +Beelzeboob,” said Betty. “It’s Sargeant Hollister who’s saying the +same, and no fool is the sargeant, anyway.” + +“It’s a scandalous disparagement” cried Katy, vehemently, “no kinder +soul than Harvey carries a pack; and for a gownd or a tidy apron, he +will never take a king’s farthing from a friend. Beelzebub, indeed! For +what would he read the Bible, if he had dealings with the evil spirit?” + +“He’s an honest divil, anyway; as I was saying before, the guinea was +pure. But then the sargeant thinks him amiss, and it’s no want of +l’arning that Mister Hollister has.” + +“He’s a fool!” said Katy tartly. “Harvey might be a man of substance, +were he not so disregardful. How often have I told him, that if he did +nothing but peddle, and would put his gains to use, and get married, so +that things at home could be kept within doors, and leave off his +dealings with the rig’lars, and all incumberments, that he would soon +become an excellent liver. Sergeant Hollister would be glad to hold a +candle to him, indeed!” + +“Pooh!” said Betty, in her philosophical way; “ye’re no thinking that +Mister Hollister is an officer, and stands next the cornet, in the +troop. But this piddler gave warning of the brush the night, and it’s +no sure that Captain Jack would have got the day, but for the +reënforcement.” + +“How say you, Betty,” cried the trooper, bending forward on his saddle, +“had you notice of our danger from Birch?” + +“The very same, darling; and it’s hurry I was till the boys was in +motion; not but I knew ye’re enough for the Cowboys any time. But wid +the divil on your side, I was sure of the day. I’m only wondering +there’s so little plunder, in a business of Beelzeboob’s contriving.” + +“I’m obliged to you for the rescue, and equally indebted to the +motive.” + +“Is it the plunder? But little did I t’ink of it till I saw the +movables on the ground, some burnt, and some broke, and other some as +good as new. It would be convanient to have one feather bed in the +corps, anyway.” + +“By heavens, ’twas timely succor! Had not Roanoke been swifter than +their bullets, I must have fallen. The animal is worth his weight in +gold.” + +“It’s continental, you mane, darling. Goold weighs heavy, and is no +plenty in the states. If the nagur hadn’t been staying and frighting +the sargeant with his copper-colored looks, and a matter of blarney +’bout ghosts, we should have been in time to have killed all the dogs, +and taken the rest prisoners.” + +“It is very well as it is, Betty,” said Lawton. “A day will yet come, I +trust, when these miscreants shall be rewarded, if not in judgments +upon their persons, at least in the opinions of their fellow citizens. +The time must arrive when America will distinguish between a patriot +and a robber.” + +“Speak low,” said Katy; “there’s some who think much of themselves, +that have doings with the Skinners.” + +“It’s more they are thinking of themselves, then, than other people +thinks of them,” cried Betty. “A t’ief’s a t’ief, anyway; whether he +stales for King George or for Congress.” + +“I know’d that evil would soon happen,” said Katy. “The sun set +to-night behind a black cloud, and the house dog whined, although I +gave him his supper with my own hands; besides, it’s not a week sin’ I +dreamed the dream about the thousand lighted candles, and the cakes +burnt in the oven.” + +“Well,” said Betty, “it’s but little I drame, anyway. Jist keep an ’asy +conscience and a plenty of the stuff in ye, and ye’ll sleep like an +infant. The last drame I had was when the boys put the thistle tops in +the blankets, and then I was thinking that Captain Jack’s man was +currying me down, for the matter of Roanoke, but it’s no trifle I mind +either in skin or stomach.” + +“I’m sure,” said Katy, with a stiff erectness that drew Lawton back in +his saddle, “no man shall ever dare to lay hands on bed of mine; it’s +undecent and despisable conduct.” + +“Pooh! pooh!” cried Betty; “if you tag after a troop of horse, a small +bit of a joke must be borne. What would become of the states and +liberty, if the boys had never a clane shirt, or a drop to comfort +them? Ask Captain Jack, there, if they’d fight, Mrs. Beelzeboob, and +they no clane linen to keep the victory in.” + +“I’m a single woman, and my name is Haynes,” said Katy, “and I’d thank +you to use no disparaging terms when speaking to me.” + +“You must tolerate a little license in the tongue of Mrs. Flanagan, +madam,” said the trooper. “The drop she speaks of is often of an +extraordinary size, and then she has acquired the freedom of a +soldier’s manner.” + +“Pooh! captain, darling,” cried Betty, “why do you bother the woman? +Talk like yeerself, dear, and it’s no fool of a tongue that ye’ve got +in yeer own head. But jist here-away that sargeant made a halt, +thinking there might be more divils than one stirring, the night. The +clouds are as black as Arnold’s heart, and deuce the star is there +twinkling among them. Well, the mare is used to a march after +nightfall, and is smelling out the road like a pointer slut.” + +“It wants but little to the rising moon,” observed the trooper. He +called a dragoon, who was riding in advance, issued a few orders and +cautions relative to the comfort and safety of Singleton, and speaking +a consoling word to his friend himself, gave Roanoke the spur, and +dashed by the car, at a rate that again put to flight all the +philosophy of Katharine Haynes. + +“Good luck to ye, for a free rider and a bold!” shouted the +washerwoman, as he passed. “If ye’re meeting Mister Beelzeboob, jist +back the baste up to him, and show him his consort that ye’ve got on +the crupper. I’m thinking it’s no long he’d tarry to chat. Well, well, +it’s his life that we saved, he was saying so himself—though the +plunder is nothing to signify.” + +The cries of Betty Flanagan were too familiar to the ears of Captain +Lawton to elicit a reply. Notwithstanding the unusual burden that +Roanoke sustained, he got over the ground with great rapidity, and the +distance between the cart of Mrs. Flanagan and the chariot of Miss +Peyton was passed in a manner that, however it answered the intentions +of the trooper, in no degree contributed to the comfort of his +companion. The meeting occurred but a short distance from the quarters +of Lawton, and at the same instant the moon broke from a mass of +clouds, and threw its light on objects. + +Compared with the simple elegance and substantial comfort of the +Locusts, the “Hotel Flanagan” presented but a dreary spectacle. In the +place of carpeted floors and curtained windows, were the yawning cracks +of a rudely-constructed dwelling, and boards and paper were ingeniously +applied to supply the place of the green glass in more than half the +lights. The care of Lawton had anticipated every improvement that their +situation would allow, and blazing fires were made before the party +arrived. The dragoons, who had been charged with this duty, had +conveyed a few necessary articles of furniture, and Miss Peyton and her +companions, on alighting, found something like habitable apartments +prepared for their reception. The mind of Sarah had continued to wander +during the ride, and, with the ingenuity of the insane, she +accommodated every circumstance to the feelings that were uppermost in +her own bosom. + +“It is impossible to minister to a mind that has sustained such a +blow,” said Lawton to Isabella Singleton. “Time and God’s mercy can +alone cure it, but something more may be done towards the bodily +comfort of all. You are a soldier’s daughter, and used to scenes like +this; help me to exclude some of the cold air from these windows.” + +Miss Singleton acceded to his request, and while Lawton was +endeavoring, from without, to remedy the defect of broken panes, +Isabella was arranging a substitute for a curtain within. + +“I hear the cart,” said the trooper, in reply to one of her +interrogatories. “Betty is tender-hearted in the main; believe me, poor +George will not only be safe, but comfortable.” + +“God bless her, for her care, and bless you all,” said Isabella, +fervently. “Dr. Sitgreaves has gone down the road to meet him, I know. +What is that glittering in the moon?” + +Directly opposite the window where they stood, were the outbuildings of +the farm, and the quick eye of Lawton caught at a glance the object to +which she alluded. + +“’Tis the glare of firearms,” said the trooper, springing from the +window towards his charger, which yet remained caparisoned at the door. +His movement was quick as thought, but a flash of fire was followed by +the whistling of a bullet, before he had proceeded a step. A loud +shriek burst from the dwelling, and the captain sprang into his saddle; +the whole was the business of but a moment. + +“Mount—mount, and follow!” shouted the trooper; and before his +astonished men could understand the cause of alarm, Roanoke had carried +him in safety over the fence which lay between him and his foe. The +chase was for life or death, but the distance to the rocks was again +too short, and the disappointed trooper saw his intended victim vanish +in their clefts, where he could not follow. + +“By the life of Washington,” muttered Lawton, as he sheathed his saber, +“I would have made two halves of him, had he not been so nimble on the +foot—but a time will come!” So saying, he returned to his quarters, +with the indifference of a man who knew his life was at any moment to +be offered a sacrifice to his country. An extraordinary tumult in the +house induced him to quicken his speed, and on arriving at the door, +the panic-stricken Katy informed him that the bullet aimed at his own +life had taken effect in the bosom of Miss Singleton. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Hushed were his Gertrude’s lips; but still their bland +And beautiful expression seemed to melt +With love that could not die! and still his hand +She presses to the heart no more that felt. + + +—_Gertrude of Wyoming_. + + +The brief arrangements of the dragoons had prepared two apartments for +the reception of the ladies, the one being intended as a sleeping room, +and situated within the other. Into the latter Isabella was immediately +conveyed, at her own request, and placed on a rude bed by the side of +the unconscious Sarah. When Miss Peyton and Frances flew to her +assistance, they found her with a smile on her pallid lip, and a +composure in her countenance, that induced them to think her uninjured. + +“God be praised!” exclaimed the trembling aunt. “The report of +firearms, and your fall, had led me into error. Surely, surely, there +was enough horror before; but this has been spared us.” + +Isabella pressed her hand upon her bosom, still smiling, but with a +ghastliness that curdled the blood of Frances. + +“Is George far distant?” she asked. “Let him know—hasten him, that I +may see my brother once again.” + +“It is as I apprehended!” shrieked Miss Peyton. “But you smile—surely +you are not hurt!” + +“Quite well—quite happy,” murmured Isabella; “here is a remedy for +every pain.” + +Sarah arose from the reclining posture she had taken, and gazed wildly +at her companion. She stretched forth her own hand, and raised that of +Isabella from her bosom. It was dyed in blood. + +“See,” said Sarah, “but will it not wash away love? Marry, young woman, +and then no one can expel him from your heart, unless,”—she added, +whispering, and bending over the other,—“you find another there before +you; then die, and go to heaven—there are no wives in heaven.” + +The lovely maniac hid her face under the clothes, and continued silent +during the remainder of the night. At this moment Lawton entered. +Inured as he was to danger in all its forms, and accustomed to the +horrors of a partisan war, the trooper could not behold the ruin before +him unmoved. He bent over the fragile form of Isabella, and his gloomy +eye betrayed the workings of his soul. + +“Isabella,” he at length uttered, “I know you to possess a courage +beyond the strength of women.” + +“Speak,” she said, earnestly; “if you have anything to say, speak +fearlessly.” + +The trooper averted his face as he replied, “None ever receive a ball +there, and survive.” + +“I have no dread of death, Lawton,” returned Isabella. “I thank you for +not doubting me; I felt it from the first.” + +“These are not scenes for a form like yours,” added the trooper. “’Tis +enough that Britain calls our youth to the field; but when such +loveliness becomes the victim of war, I sicken of my trade.” + +“Hear me, Captain Lawton,” said Isabella, raising herself with +difficulty, but rejecting aid. “From early womanhood to the present +hour have I been an inmate of camps and garrisons. I have lived to +cheer the leisure of an aged father, and think you I would change those +days of danger and privation for any ease? No! I have the consolation +of knowing, in my dying moments, that what woman could do in such a +cause, I have done.” + +“Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit! Hundreds of +warriors have I witnessed in their blood, but never a firmer soul among +them all.” + +“’Tis the soul only,” said Isabella. “My sex and strength have denied +me the dearest of privileges. But to you, Captain Lawton, nature has +been more bountiful; you have an arm and a heart to devote to the +cause; and I know they are in arm and a heart that will prove true to +the last. And George—and—” she paused, her lip quivered, and her eye +sank to the floor. + +“And Dunwoodie!” added the trooper. “Would you speak of Dunwoodie?” + +“Name him not,” said Isabella, sinking back, and concealing her face in +her garments. “Leave me, Lawton—prepare poor George for this unexpected +blow.” + +The trooper continued for a little while gazing, in melancholy +interest, at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, which the scanty +covering could not conceal, and withdrew to meet his comrade. The +interview between Singleton and his sister was painful, and, for a +moment, Isabella yielded to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware +that her hours were numbered, she was the first to rouse herself to +exertion. At her earnest request, the room was left to herself, the +captain, and Frances. The repeated applications of the surgeon, to be +permitted to use professional aid, were steadily rejected, and, at +length, he was obliged unwillingly to retire. + +“Raise me,” said the dying young woman, “and let me look on a face that +I love, once more.” Frances silently complied, and Isabella turned her +eyes in sisterly affection upon George. “It matters but little, my +brother—a few hours must close the scene.” + +“Live, Isabella, my sister, my only sister!” cried the youth, with a +burst of sorrow that he could not control. “My father! my poor father—” + +“There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a Christian. Miss +Wharton, I would speak of what interests you, while yet I have strength +for the task.” + +“Nay,” said Frances, tenderly, “compose yourself; let no desire to +oblige me endanger a life that is precious to—to—so many.” The words +were nearly stifled by her emotions, for the other had touched a chord +that thrilled to her heart. + +“Poor, sensitive girl!” said Isabella, regarding her with tender +interest; “but the world is still before you, and why should I disturb +the little happiness it may afford! Dream on, lovely innocent! and may +God keep the evil day of knowledge far distant!” + +“Oh, there is even now little left for me to enjoy,” said Frances, +burying her face in the clothes. “I am heartstricken in all that I most +loved.” + +“No!” interrupted Isabella; “you have one inducement to wish for life, +that pleads strongly in a woman’s breast. It is a delusion that nothing +but death can destroy—” Exhaustion compelled her to pause, and her +auditors continued in breathless suspense, until, recovering her +strength, she laid her hand on that of Frances, and continued more +mildly, “Miss Wharton, if there breathes a spirit congenial to +Dunwoodie’s, and worthy of his love, it is your own.” + +A flush of fire passed over the face of the listener, and she raised +her eyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of delight, to the +countenance of Isabella; but the ruin she beheld recalled better +feelings, and again her head dropped upon the covering of the bed. +Isabella watched her emotion with a look that partook both of pity and +admiration. + +“Such have been the feelings that I have escaped,” she continued. “Yes, +Miss Wharton, Dunwoodie is wholly yours.” + +“Be just to yourself, my sister,” exclaimed the youth; “let no romantic +generosity cause you to forget your own character.” + +She heard him, and fixed a gaze of tender interest on his face, but +slowly shook her head as she replied,— + +“It is not romance, but truth, that bids me speak. Oh! how much have I +lived within an hour! Miss Wharton, I was born under a burning sun, and +my feelings seem to have imbibed its warmth; I have existed for passion +only.” + +“Say not so—say not so, I implore you,” cried the agitated brother. +“Think how devoted has been your love to our aged father; how +disinterested, how tender, your affection to me!” + +“Yes,” said Isabella, a smile of mild pleasure beaming on her +countenance, “that, at least, is a reflection which may be taken to the +grave.” + +Neither Frances nor her brother interrupted her meditations, which +continued for several minutes; when, suddenly recollecting herself, she +continued,— + +“I remain selfish even to the last; with me, Miss Wharton, America and +her liberties were my earliest passion, and—” Again she paused, and +Frances thought it was the struggle of death that followed; but +reviving, she proceeded, “Why should I hesitate, on the brink of the +grave! Dunwoodie was my next and my last. But,” burying her face in her +hands, “it was a love that was unsought.” + +“Isabella!” exclaimed her brother, springing from the bed, and pacing +the floor in disorder. + +“See how dependent we become under the dominion of worldly pride; it is +painful to George to learn that one he loves had not feelings superior +to her nature and education.” + +“Say no more,” whispered Frances; “you distress us both—say no more, I +entreat you.” + +“In justice to Dunwoodie I must speak; and for the same reason, my +brother, you must listen. By no act or word has Dunwoodie ever induced +me to believe he wished me more than a friend; nay, latterly, I have +had the burning shame of thinking that he avoided my presence.” + +“Would he dare?” said Singleton, fiercely. + +“Peace, my brother, and listen,” continued Isabella, rousing herself +with an effort that was final. “Here is the innocent, the justifiable +cause. We are both motherless; but that aunt—that mild, plain-hearted, +observing aunt, has given you the victory. Oh! how much she loses, who +loses a female guardian to her youth. I have exhibited those feelings +which you have been taught to repress. After this, can I wish to live?” + +“Isabella! my poor Isabella! you wander in your mind.” + +“But one word more—for I feel that blood, which ever flowed too +swiftly, rushing where nature never intended it to go. Woman must be +sought to be prized; her life is one of concealed emotions; blessed are +they whose early impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for +such only can be happy with men like—like Dunwoodie.” Her voice failed, +and she sank back on her pillow in silence. The cry of Singleton +brought the rest of the party to her bedside; but death was already +upon her countenance; her remaining strength just sufficed to reach the +hand of George, and pressing it to her bosom for a moment, she +relinquished her grasp, and, with a slight convulsion, expired. + +Frances Wharton had thought that fate had done its worst, in +endangering the life of her brother, and destroying the reason of her +sister; but the relief conveyed by the dying declaration of Isabella +taught her that another sorrow had aided in loading her heart with +grief. She saw the whole truth at a glance; nor was the manly delicacy +of Dunwoodie lost upon her—everything tended to raise him in her +estimation; and, for mourning that duty and pride had induced her to +strive to think less of him, she was compelled to substitute regret +that her own act had driven him from her in sorrow, if not in +desperation. It is not in the nature of youth, however, to despair; and +Frances now knew a secret joy that gave a new spring to her existence. + +The sun broke forth, on the morning that succeeded this night of +desolation, in unclouded luster, and seemed to mock the petty sorrows +of those who received his rays. Lawton had early ordered his steed, and +was ready to mount as the first burst of light broke over the hills. +His orders were already given, and the trooper threw his leg across the +saddle, in silence; and, casting a glance of fierce chagrin at the +narrow space that had favored the flight of the Skinner, he gave +Roanoke the rein, and moved slowly towards the valley. + +The stillness of death pervaded the road, nor was there a single +vestige of the scenes of the night, to tarnish the loveliness of a +glorious morn. Struck with the contrast between man and nature, the +fearless trooper rode by each pass of danger, regardless of what might +happen; nor did he rouse himself from his musing, until the noble +charger, snuffing the morning air, greeted the steeds of the guard +under Sergeant Hollister. + +Here, indeed, was to be seen sad evidence of the midnight fray, but the +trooper glanced his eye over it with the coolness of one accustomed to +such sights. Without wasting the moments in useless regrets, he +proceeded, at once, to business. + +“Have you seen anything?” he demanded of the orderly. + +“Nothing, sir, that we dared to charge upon,” returned Hollister; “but +we mounted once, at the report of distant firearms.” + +“’Tis well,” said Lawton, gloomily. “Ah! Hollister, I would give the +animal I ride, to have had your single arm between the wretch who drew +that trigger and these useless rocks, which overhang every bit of +ground, as if they grudged pasture to a single hoof.” + +“Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am as good as +another; but I can’t say that I’m overfond of fighting with those that +neither steel nor lead can bring down.” + +“What silly crotchet is uppermost, now, in that mystified brain of +thine, Deacon Hollister?” + +“I like not the dark object that has been maneuvering in the skirt of +the wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, during the night, it +was seen marching across the firelight, no doubt with evil intent.” + +“Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock maple, that you mean? +In truth it moves.” + +“But without mortal motion,” said the sergeant, regarding it with awful +reverence. “It glides along, but no feet have been seen by any who +watch here.” + +“Had it wings,” cried Lawton, “it is mine; stand fast, until I join.” +The words were hardly uttered before Roanoke was flying across the +plain, and apparently verifying the boast of his master. + +“Those cursed rocks!” ejaculated the trooper, as he saw the object of +his pursuit approaching the hillside; but, either from want of practice +or from terror, it passed the obvious shelter they offered, and fled +into the open plain. + +“I have you, man or devil!” shouted Lawton, whirling his saber from its +scabbard. “Halt, and take quarter!” + +His proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the sound of his +powerful voice, the figure sank upon the ground, exhibiting a shapeless +ball of black, without life or motion. + +“What have we here?” cried Lawton, drawing up by its side. “A gala suit +of the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, wandering around its birthplace, +or searching in vain for its discomfited mistress?” He leaned forward +in his stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the silken +garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered part of the form of +the reverend gentleman who had fled from the Locusts, the evening +before, in his robes of office. + +“In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain +is, at any time, a terror to a troop of horse.” + +The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed faculties, to +discover that it was a face he knew, and somewhat disconcerted at the +terror he had manifested, and the indecent attitude in which he had +been found, he endeavored to rise and offer some explanation. Lawton +received his apologies good-humoredly, if not with much faith in their +truth; and, after a short communication upon the state of the valley, +the trooper courteously alighted, and they proceeded towards the guard. + +“I am so little acquainted, sir, with the rebel uniform, that I really +was unable to distinguish, whether those men, whom you say are your +own, did or did not belong to the gang of marauders.” + +“Apology, sir, is unnecessary,” replied the trooper, curling his lip. +“It is not your task, as a minister of God, to take note of the facings +of a coat. The standard under which you serve is acknowledged by us +all.” + +“I serve under the standard of his gracious Majesty, George III,” +returned the priest, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. “But really +the idea of being scalped has a strong tendency to unman a +new-beginner, like myself.” + +“Scalped!” echoed Lawton, stopping short in his walk. Then recollecting +himself, he added, with composure, “If it is to Dunwoodie’s squadron of +Virginia light dragoons that you allude, it may be well to inform you +that they generally take a bit of the skull with the skin.” + +“Oh! I can have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your appearance,” said +the divine, with a smirk. “It is the natives that I apprehend.” + +“Natives! I have the honor to be one, I assure you, sir.” + +“Nay, I beg that I may be understood—I mean the Indians; they who do +nothing but rob, and murder, and destroy.” + +“And scalp!” + +“Yes, sir, and scalp too,” continued the clergyman, eying his companion +a little suspiciously; “the copper-colored, savage Indians.” + +“And did you expect to meet those nose-jeweled gentry in the neutral +ground?” + +“Certainly; we understand in England that the interior swarms with +them.” + +“And call you this the interior of America?” cried Lawton, again +halting, and staring the other in the face, with a surprise too +naturally expressed to be counterfeited. + +“Surely, sir, I conceive myself to be in the interior.” + +“Attend,” said Lawton, pointing towards the east. “See you not that +broad sheet of water which the eye cannot compass? Thither lies the +England you deem worthy to hold dominion over half the world. See you +the land of your nativity?” + +“’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand +miles!” exclaimed the wondering priest, a little suspicious of his +companion’s sanity. + +“No! what a pity it is that the powers of man are not equal to his +ambition. Now turn your eyes westward; observe that vast expanse of +water which rolls between the shores of America and China.” + +“I see nothing but land,” said the trembling priest; “there is no water +to be seen.” + +“’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand +miles!” repeated Lawton, pursuing his walk. “If you apprehend the +savages, seek them in the ranks of your prince. Rum and gold have +preserved their loyalty.” + +“Nothing is more probable than my being deceived,” said the man of +peace, casting furtive glances at the colossal stature and whiskered +front of his companion; “but the rumors we have at home, and the +uncertainty of meeting with such an enemy as yourself, induced me to +fly at your approach.” + +“’Twas not judiciously determined,” said the trooper, “as Roanoke has +the heels of you greatly; and flying from Scylla, you were liable to +encounter Charybdis. Those woods and rocks cover the very enemies you +dread.” + +“The savages!” exclaimed the divine, instinctively placing the trooper +in the rear. + +“More than savages; men who, under the guise of patriotism, prowl +through the community, with a thirst for plunder that is unsatiable, +and a love of cruelty that mocks the ingenuity of the Indian—fellows +whose mouths are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts are +overflowing with cupidity and gall—gentlemen that are yclep’d the +Skinners.” + +“I have heard them mentioned in our army,” said the frightened divine, +“and had thought them to be the aborigines.” + +“You did the savages injustice.” + +They now approached the spot occupied by Hollister, who witnessed with +surprise the character of the prisoner made by his captain. Lawton gave +his orders, and the men immediately commenced securing and removing +such articles of furniture as were thought worthy of the trouble; and +the captain, with his reverend associate, who was mounted on a mettled +horse, returned to the quarters of the troop. + +It was the wish of Singleton that the remains of his sister should be +conveyed to the post commanded by his father, and preparations were +early made to this effect. The wounded British were placed under the +control of the chaplain; and towards the middle of the day Lawton saw +all the arrangements so far completed, as to render it probable that in +a few hours he would be left with his small party, in undisturbed +possession of the Corners. + +While leaning in the doorway, gazing in moody silence at the ground +which had been the scene of the last night’s chase, his ear caught the +sound of a horse, and the next moment a dragoon of his own troop +appeared dashing up the road, as if on business of the last importance. +The steed was foaming, and the rider had the appearance of having done +a day’s service. Without speaking, he placed a letter in the hand of +Lawton, and led his charger to the stable. The trooper knew the hand of +the major, and ran his eye over the following:— + +“I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family of the +Locusts are to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted +to the society of Captain Wharton, who waits only for their testimony +to be tried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy +I do not doubt. The English are moving up the river; and the moment you +see the Whartons in safety, break up and join your troop. There will be +good service to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have +sent out a real soldier in command. Reports must be made to the +commandant at Peekskill, for Colonel Singleton is withdrawn to +headquarters, to preside over the inquiry upon poor Wharton. Fresh +orders have been sent to hang the peddler if we can take him, but they +are not from the commander in chief. Detail a small guard with the +ladies, and get into the saddle as soon as possible.” + + +Yours sincerely, +“PEYTON DUNWOODIE.” + + +This communication entirely changed the whole arrangement. There was no +longer any motive for removing the body of Isabella, since her father +was no longer with his command, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced in +an immediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, near +the foot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude preparations were made as +the time and the situation of the country permitted. A few of the +neighboring inhabitants collected from curiosity and interest, and Miss +Peyton and Frances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices +of the church were performed by the minister, who had so lately stood +forth to officiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton bent +his head, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words that +accompanied the first clod were uttered. + +A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intelligence conveyed +in the letter of Dunwoodie; and Caesar, with his horses, was once more +put in requisition. The relics of the property were intrusted to a +neighbor, in whom they had confidence; and, accompanied by the +unconscious Sarah, and attended by four dragoons and all of the +American wounded, Mr. Wharton’s party took their departure. They were +speedily followed by the English chaplain, with his countrymen, who +were conveyed to the waterside, where a vessel was in waiting to +receive them. Lawton joyfully witnessed these movements; and as soon as +the latter were out of sight, he ordered his own bugle to sound. +Everything was instantly in motion. The mare of Mrs. Flanagan was again +fastened to the cart; Dr. Sitgreaves exhibited his shapeless form once +more on horseback; and the trooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in +his emancipation. + +The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a look of sullen +ferocity at the place of the Skinner’s concealment, and another of +melancholy regret towards the grave of Isabella, led the way, +accompanied by the surgeon in a brown study; while Sergeant Hollister +and Betty brought up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to +whistle through the open doors and broken windows of the “Hotel +Flanagan,” where the laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, +and the lamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, +But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May; +No zephyr fondly sues the mountain’s breast, +But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. + + +—GOLDSMITH. + + +The roads of Westchester are, at this hour, below the improvements of +the country. Their condition at the time of the tale has already been +alluded to in these pages; and the reader will, therefore, easily +imagine the task assumed by Caesar, when he undertook to guide the +translated chariot of the English prelate through their windings, into +one of the less frequented passes of the Highlands of the Hudson. + +While Caesar and his steeds were contending with these difficulties, +the inmates of the carriage were too much engrossed with their own +cares to attend to those who served them. The mind of Sarah had ceased +to wander so wildly as at first; but at every advance that she made +towards reason, she seemed to retire a step from animation; from being +excited and flighty, she was gradually becoming moody and melancholy. +There were moments, indeed, when her anxious companions thought that +they could discern marks of recollection; but the expression of +exquisite woe that accompanied these transient gleams of reason, forced +them to the dreadful alternative of wishing that she might forever be +spared the agony of thought. The day’s march was performed chiefly in +silence, and the party found shelter for the night in different +farmhouses. + +The following morning the cavalcade dispersed. The wounded diverged +towards the river, with the intention of taking water at Peekskill, in +order to be transported to the hospitals of the American army above. +The litter of Singleton was conveyed to a part of the Highlands where +his father held his quarters, and where it was intended that the youth +should complete his cure; the carriage of Mr. Wharton, accompanied by a +wagon conveying the housekeeper and what baggage had been saved, and +could be transported, resumed its route towards the place where Henry +Wharton was held in duress, and where he only waited their arrival to +be put on trial for his life. + +The country which lies between the waters of the Hudson and Long Island +Sound, is, for the first forty miles from their junction, a succession +of hills and dales. The land bordering on the latter then becomes less +abrupt, and gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finally +melts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut. But as you +approach the Hudson, the rugged aspect increases, until you at length +meet with the formidable barrier of the Highlands. Here the neutral +ground ceased. The royal army held the two points of land that +commanded the southern entrance of the river into the mountains; but +all the remaining passes were guarded by the Americans. + +We have already stated that the pickets of the continental army were +sometimes pushed low into the country, and that the hamlet of the White +Plains was occasionally maintained by parties of its troops. At other +times, the advanced guards were withdrawn to the northern extremity of +the country, and, as has been shown, the intermediate country was +abandoned to the ravages of the miscreants who plundered between both +armies, serving neither. + +The road taken by our party was not the one that communicates between +the two principal cities of the states, but was a retired and +unfrequented pass, that to this hour is but little known, and which, +entering the hills near the eastern boundary, emerges into the plain +above, many miles from the Hudson. + +It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of Mr. Wharton to +drag the heavy chariot up the lengthened and steep ascents which now +lay before them; and a pair of country horses were procured, with but +little regard to their owner’s wishes, by the two dragoons who still +continued to accompany the party. With their assistance, Caesar was +enabled to advance, by slow and toilsome steps, into the bosom of the +hills. Willing to relieve her own melancholy by breathing a fresher +air, and also to lessen the weight, Frances alighted as they reached +the foot of the mountain. She found that Katy had made similar +preparations, with the like intention of walking to the summit. It was +near the setting of the sun, and, from the top of the mountain, their +guard had declared that the end of their journey might be discerned. +Frances moved forward with the elastic step of youth; and, followed by +the housekeeper at a little distance, she soon lost sight of the +sluggish carriage, that was slowly toiling up the hill, occasionally +halting to allow the cattle to breathe. + +“Oh, Miss Fanny, what dreadful times these be!” said Katy, when they +paused for breath themselves. “I know’d that calamity was about to +befall, ever sin’ the streak of blood was seen in the clouds.” + +“There has been blood upon earth, Katy, though but little is ever seen +in the clouds.” + +“Not blood in the clouds!” echoed the housekeeper. “Yes, that there +has, often, and comets with fiery, smoking tails. Didn’t people see +armed men in the heavens, the year the war began? And, the night before +the battle of the Plains, wasn’t there thunder, like the cannon +themselves? Ah! Miss Fanny, I’m fearful that no good can follow +rebellion against the Lord’s anointed!” + +“These events are certainly dreadful,” returned Frances, “and enough to +sicken the stoutest heart. But what can be done, Katy? Gallant and +independent men are unwilling to submit to oppression; and I am fearful +that such scenes are but too common in war.” + +“If I could but see anything to fight about,” said Katy, renewing her +walk as the young lady proceeded, “I shouldn’t mind it so much. ’Twas +said the king wanted all the tea for his own family, at one time; and +then again, that he meant the colonies should pay over to him all their +earnings. Now this is matter enough to fight about—for I’m sure that no +one, however he may be lord or king, has a right to the hard earnings +of another. Then it was all contradicted, and some said Washington +wanted to be king himself; so that, between the two, one doesn’t know +which to believe.” + +“Believe neither—for neither is true. I do not pretend to understand, +myself, all the merits of this war, Katy; but to me it seems unnatural, +that a country like this should be ruled by another so distant as +England.” + +“So I have heard Harvey say to his father, that is dead and in his +grave,” returned Katy, approaching nearer to the young lady, and +lowering her voice. “Many is the good time that I’ve listened to them +talking, when all the neighborhood was asleep; and such conversations, +Miss Fanny, that you can have no idea on! Well, to say the truth, +Harvey was a mystified body, and he was like the winds in the good +book; no one could tell whence he came, or whither he went.” + +Frances glanced her eye at her companion with an apparent desire to +hear more. + +“There are rumors abroad relative to the character of Harvey,” she +said, “that I should be sorry were true.” + +“’Tis a disparagement, every word on’t,” cried Katy, vehemently. +“Harvey had no more dealings with Beelzebub than you or I had. I’m sure +if Harvey had sold himself, he would take care to be better paid; +though, to speak the truth, he was always a wasteful and disregardful +man.” + +“Nay, nay,” returned the smiling Frances, “I have no such injurious +suspicion of him; but has he not sold himself to an earthly prince—one +too much attached to the interests of his native island to be always +just to this country?” + +“To the king’s majesty!” replied Katy. “Why, Miss Fanny, your own +brother that’s in jail serves King George.” + +“True,” said Frances, “but not in secret—openly, manfully, and +bravely.” + +“’Tis said he is a spy, and why ain’t one spy as bad as another?” + +“’Tis untrue; no act of deception is worthy of my brother; nor of any +would he be guilty, for so base a purpose as gain or promotion.” + +“Well, I’m sure,” said Katy, a little appalled at the manner of the +young lady, “if a body does the work, he should be paid for it. Harvey +is by no means partic’lar about getting his lawful dues; and I dar’st +to say, if the truth was forthcoming, King George owes him money this +very minute.” + +“Then you acknowledge his connection with the British army,” said +Frances. “I confess there have been moments when I have thought +differently.” + +“Lord, Miss Fanny, Harvey is a man that no calculation can be made on. +Though I lived in his house for a long concourse of years, I have never +known whether he belonged above or below[11]. The time that Burg’yne +was taken he came home, and there was great doings between him and the +old gentleman, but for my life I couldn’t tell if ’twas joy or grief. +Then, here, the other day, when the great British general—I’m sure I +have been so flurried with losses and troubles, that I forget his +name—” + +“André,” said Frances. + +“Yes, Ondree; when he was hanged, acrost the Tappan, the old gentleman +was near hand to going crazy about it, and didn’t sleep for night nor +day, till Harvey got back; and then his money was mostly golden +guineas; but the Skinners took it all, and now he is a beggar, or, +what’s the same thing, despisable for poverty and want.” + +To this speech Frances made no reply, but continued her walk up the +hill, deeply engaged in her own reflections. The allusion to André had +recalled her thoughts to the situation of her own brother. + +They soon reached the highest point in their toilsome progress to the +summit, and Frances seated herself on a rock to rest and to admire. +Immediately at her feet lay a deep dell, but little altered by +cultivation, and dark with the gloom of a November sunset. Another hill +rose opposite to the place where she sat, at no great distance, along +whose rugged sides nothing was to be seen but shapeless rocks, and oaks +whose stunted growth showed a meager soil. + +To be seen in their perfection, the Highlands must be passed +immediately after the fall of the leaf. The scene is then the finest, +for neither the scanty foliage which the summer lends the trees, nor +the snows of winter, are present to conceal the minutest objects from +the eye. Chilling solitude is the characteristic of the scenery; nor is +the mind at liberty, as in March, to look forward to a renewed +vegetation that is soon to check, without improving, the view. + +The day had been cloudy and cool, and thin fleecy clouds hung around +the horizon, often promising to disperse, but as frequently +disappointing Frances in the hope of catching a parting beam from the +setting sun. At length a solitary gleam struck on the base of the +mountain on which she was gazing, and moved gracefully up its side, +until reaching the summit, it stood for a minute, forming a crown of +glory to the somber pile. So strong were the rays, that what was before +indistinct now clearly opened to the view. With a feeling of awe at +being thus unexpectedly admitted, as it were, into the secrets of that +desert place, Frances gazed intently, until, among the scattered trees +and fantastic rocks, something like a rude structure was seen. It was +low, and so obscured by the color of its materials, that but for its +roof, and the glittering of a window, it must have escaped her notice. +While yet lost in the astonishment created by discovering a habitation +in such a spot, on moving her eyes she perceived another object that +increased her wonder. It apparently was a human figure, but of singular +mold and unusual deformity. It stood on the edge of a rock, a little +above the hut, and it was no difficult task for our heroine to fancy it +was gazing at the vehicles that were ascending the side of the mountain +beneath her. The distance, however, was too great to distinguish with +precision. After looking at it a moment in breathless wonder, Frances +had just come to the conclusion that it was ideal, and that what she +saw was a part of the rock itself, when the object moved swiftly from +its position, and glided into the hut, at once removing every doubt as +to the nature of either. Whether it was owing to the recent +conversation that she had been holding with Katy, or to some fancied +resemblance that she discerned, Frances thought, as the figure vanished +from her view, that it bore a marked likeness to Birch, moving under +the weight of his pack. She continued to gaze towards the mysterious +residence, when the gleam of light passed away, and at the same instant +the tones of a bugle rang through the glens and hollows, and were +reechoed in every direction. Springing on her feet, the alarmed girl +heard the trampling of horses, and directly a party in the well-known +uniform of the Virginians came sweeping round the point of a rock near +her, and drew up at a short distance. Again the bugle sounded a lively +strain, and before the agitated Frances had time to rally her thoughts, +Dunwoodie dashed by the party of dragoons, threw himself from his +charger, and advanced to her side. + +His manner was earnest and interested, but in a slight degree +constrained. In a few words he explained that he had been ordered up, +with a party of Lawton’s men, in the absence of the captain himself, to +attend the trial of Henry, which was fixed for the morrow; and that, +anxious for their safety in the rude passes of the mountain, he had +ridden a mile or two in quest of the travelers. Frances explained, with +trembling voice, the reason of her being in advance, and taught him +momentarily to expect the arrival of her father. The constraint of his +manner had, however, unwillingly on her part, communicated itself to +her own deportment, and the approach of the chariot was a relief to +both. The major handed her in, spoke a few words of encouragement to +Mr. Wharton and Miss Peyton, and, again mounting, led the way towards +the plains of Fishkill, which broke on their sight, on turning the +rock, with the effect of enchantment. A short half hour brought them to +the door of the farmhouse which the care of Dunwoodie had already +prepared for their reception, and where Captain Wharton was anxiously +expecting their arrival. + + [11] The American party was called the party belonging ‘above,’ and + the British that of ‘below.’ The terms had reference to the course of + the Hudson. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +These limbs are strengthened with a soldier’s toil, +Nor has this cheek been ever blanched with fear— +But this sad tale of thine enervates all +Within me that I once could boast as man; +Chill trembling agues seize upon my frame, +And tears of childish sorrow pour, apace, +Through scarred channels that were marked by wounds. + + +—_Duo._ + + +The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reliance on his +innocence, that they were unable to see the full danger of his +situation. As the moment of trial, however, approached, the uneasiness +of the youth himself increased; and after spending most of the night +with his afflicted family, he awoke, on the following morning, from a +short and disturbed slumber, to a clearer sense of his condition, and a +survey of the means that were to extricate him from it with life. The +rank of André, and the importance of the measures he was plotting, +together with the powerful intercessions that had been made in his +behalf, occasioned his execution to be stamped with greater notoriety +than the ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently +arrested; and the instances that occurred of summary punishment for +this crime were numerous. These were facts that were well known to both +Dunwoodie and the prisoner; and to their experienced judgments the +preparations for the trial were indeed alarming. Notwithstanding their +apprehensions, they succeeded so far in concealing them, that neither +Miss Peyton nor Frances was aware of their extent. A strong guard was +stationed in the outbuilding of the farmhouse where the prisoner was +quartered, and several sentinels watched the avenues that approached +the dwelling. Another was constantly near the room of the British +officer. A court was already detailed to examine into the +circumstances; and upon their decision the fate of Henry rested. + +The moment at length arrived, and the different actors in the +approaching investigation assembled. Frances experienced a feeling like +suffocation, as, after taking her seat in the midst of her family, her +eyes wandered over the group who were thus collected. The judges, three +in number, sat by themselves, clad in the vestments of their +profession, and maintained a gravity worthy of the occasion, and +becoming in their rank. In the center was a man of advanced years, and +whose whole exterior bore the stamp of early and long-tried military +habits. This was the president of the court; and Frances, after taking +a hasty and unsatisfactory view of his associates, turned to his +benevolent countenance as to the harbinger of mercy to her brother. +There was a melting and subdued expression in the features of the +veteran, that, contrasted with the rigid decency and composure of the +others, could not fail to attract her notice. His attire was strictly +in conformity to the prescribed rules of the service to which he +belonged; but while his air was erect and military, his fingers trifled +with a kind of convulsive and unconscious motion, with a bit of crape +that entwined the hilt of the sword on which his body partly reclined, +and which, like himself, seemed a relic of older times. There were the +workings of an unquiet soul within; but his military front blended awe +with the pity that its exhibition excited. His associates were officers +selected from the eastern troops, who held the fortresses of West Point +and the adjacent passes; they were men who had attained the meridian of +life, and the eye sought in vain the expression of any passion or +emotion on which it might seize as an indication of human infirmity. In +their demeanor there was a mild, but a grave, intellectual reserve. If +there was no ferocity nor harshness to chill, neither was there +compassion nor interest to attract. They were men who had long acted +under the dominion of a prudent reason, and whose feelings seemed +trained to a perfect submission to their judgments. + +Before these arbiters of his fate Henry Wharton was ushered under the +custody of armed men. A profound and awful silence succeeded his +entrance, and the blood of Frances chilled as she noted the grave +character of the whole proceedings. There was but little of pomp in the +preparations, to impress her imagination; but the reserved, +businesslike air of the whole scene made it seem, indeed, as if the +destinies of life awaited the result. Two of the judges sat in grave +reserve, fixing their inquiring eyes on the object of their +investigation; but the president continued gazing around with uneasy, +convulsive motions of the muscles of the face, that indicated a +restlessness foreign to his years and duty. It was Colonel Singleton, +who, but the day before, had learned the fate of Isabella, but who +stood forth in the discharge of a duty that his country required at his +hands. The silence, and the expectation in every eye, at length struck +him, and making an effort to collect himself, he spoke, in the tones of +one used to authority. + +“Bring forth the prisoner,” he said, with a wave of the hand. + +The sentinels dropped the points of their bayonets towards the judges, +and Henry Wharton advanced, with a firm step, into the center of the +apartment. All was now anxiety and eager curiosity. Frances turned for +a moment in grateful emotion, as the deep and perturbed breathing of +Dunwoodie reached her ears; but her brother again concentrated all her +interest in one feeling of intense care. In the background were +arranged the inmates of the family who owned the dwelling, and behind +them, again, was a row of shining faces of ebony, glistening with +pleased wonder. Amongst these was the faded luster of Caesar Thompson’s +countenance. + +“You are said,” continued the president, “to be Henry Wharton, a +captain in his Britannic Majesty’s 60th regiment of foot.” + +“I am.” + +“I like your candor, sir; it partakes of the honorable feelings of a +soldier, and cannot fail to impress your judges favorably.” + +“It would be prudent,” said one of his companions, “to advise the +prisoner that he is bound to answer no more than he deems necessary; +although we are a court of martial law, yet, in this respect, we own +the principles of all free governments.” + +A nod of approbation from the silent member was bestowed on this +remark, and the president proceeded with caution, referring to the +minutes he held in his hand. + +“It is an accusation against you, that, being an officer of the enemy, +you passed the pickets of the American army at the White Plains, in +disguise, on the 29th of October last, whereby you are suspected of +views hostile to the interests of America, and have subjected yourself +to the punishment of a spy.” + +The mild but steady tones of the speaker, as he slowly repeated the +substance of this charge, were full of authority. The accusation was so +plain, the facts so limited, the proof so obvious, and the penalty so +well established, that escape seemed impossible. But Henry replied, +with earnest grace,— + +“That I passed your pickets in disguise, is true; but—” + +“Peace!” interrupted the president. “The usages of war are stern enough +in themselves; you need not aid them to your own condemnation.” + +“The prisoner can retract that declaration, if he please,” remarked +another judge. “His confession, if taken, goes fully to prove the +charge.” + +“I retract nothing that is true,” said Henry proudly. + +The two nameless judges heard him in silent composure, yet there was no +exultation mingled with their gravity. The president now appeared, +however, to take new interest in the scene. + +“Your sentiment is noble, sir,” he said. “I only regret that a youthful +soldier should so far be misled by loyalty as to lend himself to the +purposes of deceit.” + +“Deceit!” echoed Wharton. “I thought it prudent to guard against +capture from my enemies.” + +“A soldier, Captain Wharton, should never meet his enemy but openly, +and with arms in his hands. I have served two kings of England, as I +now serve my native land; but never did I approach a foe, unless under +the light of the sun, and with honest notice that an enemy was nigh.” + +“You are at liberty to explain what your motives were in entering the +ground held by our army in disguise,” said the other judge, with a +slight movement of the muscles of his mouth. + +“I am the son of this aged man before you,” continued Henry. “It was to +visit him that I encountered the danger. Besides, the country below is +seldom held by your troops, and its very name implies a right to either +party to move at pleasure over its territory.” + +“Its name, as a neutral ground, is unauthorized by law; it is an +appellation that originates with the condition of the country. But +wherever an army goes, it carries its rights along, and the first is +the ability to protect itself.” + +“I am no casuist, sir,” returned the youth; “but I feel that my father +is entitled to my affection, and I would encounter greater risks to +prove it to him in his old age.” + +“A very commendable spirit,” cried the veteran. “Come, gentlemen, this +business brightens. I confess, at first, it was very bad, but no man +can censure him for desiring to see his parents.” + +“And have you proof that such only was your intention?” + +“Yes—here,” said Henry, admitting a ray of hope. “Here is proof—my +father, my sister, Major Dunwoodie, all know it.” + +“Then, indeed,” returned his immovable judge, “we may be able to save +you. It would be well, sir, to examine further into this business.” + +“Certainly,” said the president, with alacrity. “Let the elder Mr. +Wharton approach and take the oath.” + +The father made an effort at composure, and, advancing with a feeble +step, he complied with the necessary forms of the court. + +“You are the father of the prisoner?” said Colonel Singleton, in a +subdued voice, after pausing a moment in respect for the agitation of +the witness. + +“He is my only son.” + +“And what do you know of his visit to your house, on the 29th day of +October last?” + +“He came, as he told you, to see me and his sisters.” + +“Was he in disguise?” asked the other judge. + +“He did not wear the uniform of the 60th.” + +“To see his sisters, too!” said the president with great emotion. “Have +you daughters, sir?” + +“I have two—both are in this house.” + +“Had he a wig?” interrupted the officer. + +“There was some such thing I do believe, upon his head.” + +“And how long had you been separated?” asked the president. + +“One year and two months.” + +“Did he wear a loose greatcoat of coarse materials?” inquired the +officer, referring to the paper that contained the charges. + +“There was an overcoat.” + +“And you think that it was to see you, only, that he came out?” + +“Me, and my daughters.” + +“A boy of spirit,” whispered the president to his silent comrade. “I +see but little harm in such a freak; ’twas imprudent, but then it was +kind.” + +“Do you know that your son was intrusted with no commission from Sir +Henry Clinton, and that the visit to you was not merely a cloak to +other designs?” + +“How can I know it?” said Mr. Wharton, in alarm. “Would Sir Henry +intrust me with such a business?” + +“Know you anything of this pass?” exhibiting the paper that Dunwoodie +had retained when Wharton was taken. + +“Nothing—upon my honor, nothing,” cried the father, shrinking from the +paper as from contagion. + +“On your oath?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Have you other testimony? This does not avail you, Captain Wharton. +You have been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited; the +labor of proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time to +reflect, and be cool.” + +There was a frightful calmness in the manner of this judge that +appalled the prisoner. In the sympathy of Colonel Singleton, he could +easily lose sight of his danger; but the obdurate and collected air of +the others was ominous of his fate. He continued silent, casting +imploring glances towards his friend. Dunwoodie understood the appeal, +and offered himself as a witness. He was sworn, and desired to relate +what he knew. His statement did not materially alter the case, and +Dunwoodie felt that it could not. To him personally but little was +known, and that little rather militated against the safety of Henry +than otherwise. His account was listened to in silence, and the +significant shake of the head that was made by the silent member spoke +too plainly what effect it had produced. + +“Still you think that the prisoner had no other object than what he has +avowed?” said the president, when he had ended. + +“None other, I will pledge my life,” cried the major, with fervor. + +“Will you swear it?” asked the immovable judge. + +“How can I? God alone can tell the heart; but I have known this +gentleman from a boy; deceit never formed part of his character. He is +above it.” + +“You say that he escaped, and was retaken in open arms?” said the +president. + +“He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat. You see he yet moves +his arm with difficulty. Would he, think you, sir, have trusted himself +where he could fall again into our hands, unless conscious of +innocence?” + +“Would André have deserted a field of battle, Major Dunwoodie, had he +encountered such an event, near Tarrytown?” asked his deliberate +examiner. “Is it not natural to youth to seek glory?” + +“Do you call this glory?” exclaimed the major: “an ignominious death +and a tarnished name.” + +“Major Dunwoodie,” returned the other, still with inveterate gravity, +“you have acted nobly; your duty has been arduous and severe, but it +has been faithfully and honorably discharged; ours must not be less +so.” + +During the examination, the most intense interest prevailed among the +hearers. With that kind of feeling which could not separate the +principle from the cause, most of the auditors thought that if +Dunwoodie failed to move the hearts of Henry’s judges, no other +possessed the power. Caesar thrust his misshapen form forward and his +features, so expressive of the concern he felt, and so different from +the vacant curiosity pictured in the countenance of the other blacks, +caught the attention of the silent judge. For the first time he spoke:— + +“Let that black be brought forward.” + +It was too late to retreat, and Caesar found himself confronted with a +row of rebel officers, before he knew what was uppermost in his +thoughts. The others yielded the examination to the one who suggested +it, and using all due deliberation, he proceeded accordingly. + +“You know the prisoner?” + +“I t’ink he ought,” returned the black, in a manner as sententious as +that of his examiner. + +“Did he give you the wig when he threw it aside?” + +“I don’t want ’em,” grumbled Caesar; “got a berry good hair heself.” + +“Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages of any kind +while +Captain Wharton was in your master’s house?” + +“I do what a tell me,” returned the black. + +“But what did they tell you to do?” + +“Sometime a one ting—sometime anoder.” + +“Enough,” said Colonel Singleton, with dignity. “You have the noble +acknowledgment of a gentleman, what more can you obtain from this +slave?—Captain Wharton, you perceive the unfortunate impression against +you. Have you other testimony to adduce?” + +To Henry there now remained but little hope; his confidence in his +security was fast ebbing, but with an indefinite expectation of +assistance from the loveliness of his sister, he fixed an earnest gaze +on the pallid features of Frances. She arose, and with a tottering step +moved towards the judges; the paleness of her cheek continued but for a +moment, and gave place to a flush of fire, and with a light but firm +tread, she stood before them. Raising her hand to her polished +forehead, Frances threw aside her exuberant locks, and displayed a +picture of beauty and innocence to their view that might have moved +even sterner natures. The president shrouded his eyes for a moment, as +if the wild eye and speaking countenance recalled the image of another. +The movement was transient, and recovering himself, with an earnestness +that betrayed his secret wishes,— + +“To you, then, your brother previously communicated his intention of +paying your family a secret visit?” + +“No!—no!” said Frances, pressing her hand on her brain, as if to +collect her thoughts; “he told me nothing—we knew not of the visit +until he arrived; but can it be necessary to explain to gallant men, +that a child would incur hazard to meet his only parent, and that in +times like these, and in a situation like ours?” + +“But was this the first time? Did he never even talk of doing so +before?” inquired the colonel, leaning towards her with paternal +interest. + +“Certainly—certainly,” cried Frances, catching the expression of his +own benevolent countenance. “This is but the fourth of his visits.” + +“I knew it!” exclaimed the veteran, rubbing his hands with delight. “An +adventurous, warm-hearted son—I warrant me, gentlemen, a fiery soldier +in the field! In what disguises did he come?” + +“In none, for none were then necessary; the royal troops covered the +country, and gave him safe passage.” + +“And was this the first of his visits out of the uniform of his +regiment?” asked the colonel, in a suppressed voice, avoiding the +penetrating looks of his companions. + +“Oh! the very first,” exclaimed the eager girl. “His first offense, I +do assure you, if offense it be.” + +“But you wrote him—you urged the visit; surely, young lady, you wished +to see your brother?” added the impatient colonel. + +“That we wished it, and prayed for it,—oh, how fervently we prayed for +it!—is true; but to have held communion with the royal army would have +endangered our father, and we dared not.” + +“Did he leave the house until taken, or had he intercourse with any out +of your own dwelling?” + +“With none—no one, excepting our neighbor, the peddler Birch.” + +“With whom!” exclaimed the colonel, turning pale, and shrinking as from +the sting of an adder. + +Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and striking his head with his hand, cried in +piercing tones, “He is lost!” and rushed from the apartment. + +“But Harvey Birch,” repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the door through +which her lover had disappeared. + +“Harvey Birch!” echoed all the judges. The two immovable members of the +court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at the prisoner. + +“To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear that Harvey +Birch is suspected of favoring the royal cause,” said Henry, again +advancing before the judges; “for he has already been condemned by your +tribunals to the fate that I now see awaits myself. I will therefore +explain, that it was by his assistance I procured the disguise, and +passed your pickets; but to my dying moments, and with my dying breath, +I will avow, that my intentions were as pure as the innocent being +before you.” + +“Captain Wharton,” said the president, solemnly, “the enemies of +American liberty have made mighty and subtle efforts to overthrow our +power. A more dangerous man, for his means and education, is not ranked +among our foes than this peddler of Westchester. He is a spy—artful, +delusive, and penetrating, beyond the abilities of any of his class. +Sir Henry could not do better than to associate him with the officer in +his next attempt. He would have saved André. Indeed, young man, this is +a connection that may prove fatal to you!” + +The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the aged +warrior was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part of his +comrades. + +“I have ruined him!” cried Frances, clasping her hands in terror. “Do +you desert us? then he is lost, indeed!” + +“Forbear! lovely innocent, forbear!” said the colonel, with strong +emotion; “you injure none, but distress us all.” + +“Is it then such a crime to possess natural affection?” said Frances +wildly. “Would Washington—the noble, upright, impartial Washington, +judge so harshly? Delay, till Washington can hear his tale.” + +“It is impossible,” said the president, covering his eyes, as if to +hide her beauty from his view. + +“Impossible! oh! but for a week suspend your judgment. On my knees I +entreat you, as you will expect mercy yourself, when no human power can +avail you, give him but a day.” + +“It is impossible,” repeated the colonel, in a voice that was nearly +choked. “Our orders are peremptory, and too long delay has been given +already.” + +He turned from the kneeling suppliant, but could not, or would not, +extricate that hand that she grasped with frenzied fervor. + +“Remand your prisoner,” said one of the judges to the officer who had +the charge of Henry. “Colonel Singleton, shall we withdraw?” + +“Singleton! Singleton!” echoed Frances. “Then you are a father, and +know how to pity a father’s woes; you cannot, will not, wound a heart +that is now nearly crushed. Hear me, Colonel Singleton; as God will +listen to your dying prayers, hear me, and spare my brother!” + +“Remove her,” said the colonel, gently endeavoring to extricate his +hand; but none appeared disposed to obey. Frances eagerly strove to +read the expression of his averted face, and resisted all his efforts +to retire. + +“Colonel Singleton! how lately was your own son in suffering and in +danger! Under the roof of my father he was cherished-under my father’s +roof he found shelter and protection. Oh! suppose that son the pride of +your age, the solace and protection of your infant children, and then +pronounce my brother guilty, if you dare!” + +“What right has Heath to make an executioner of me!” exclaimed the +veteran fiercely, rising with a face flushed like fire, and every vein +and artery swollen with suppressed emotion. “But I forget myself; come, +gentlemen, let us mount, our painful duty must be done.” + +“Mount not! go not!” shrieked Frances. “Can you tear a son from his +parent—a brother from his sister, so coldly? Is this the cause I have +so ardently loved? Are these the men that I have been taught to +reverence? But you relent, you do hear me, you will pity and forgive.” + +“Lead on, gentlemen,” said the colonel, motioning towards the door, and +erecting himself into an air of military grandeur, in the vain hope of +quieting his feelings. + +“Lead not on, but hear me,” cried Frances, grasping his hand +convulsively. “Colonel Singleton, you are a father!—pity—mercy—mercy +for the son! mercy for the daughter! Yes—you had a daughter. On this +bosom she poured out her last breath; these hands closed her eyes; +these very hands, that are now clasped in prayer, did those offices for +her that you condemn my poor, poor brother, to require.” + +One mighty emotion the veteran struggled with, and quelled; but with a +groan that shook his whole frame. He even looked around in conscious +pride at his victory; but a second burst of feeling conquered. His +head, white with the frost of seventy winters, sank upon the shoulder +of the frantic suppliant. The sword that had been his companion in so +many fields of blood dropped from his nerveless hand, and as he cried, +“May God bless you for the deed!” he wept aloud. + +Long and violent was the indulgence that Colonel Singleton yielded to +his feelings. On recovering, he gave the senseless Frances into the +arms of her aunt, and, turning with an air of fortitude to his +comrades, he said,— + +“Still, gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to discharge; our +feelings as men may be indulged hereafter. What is your pleasure with +the prisoner?” + +One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, that he had +prepared while the colonel was engaged with Frances, and declared it to +be the opinion of himself and his companion. + +It briefly stated that Henry Wharton had been detected in passing the +lines of the American army as a spy, and in disguise. That thereby, +according to the laws of war, he was liable to suffer death, and that +this court adjudged him to the penalty; recommending him to be executed +by hanging, before nine o’clock on the following morning. + +It was not usual to inflict capital punishments, even on the enemy, +without referring the case to the commander in chief, for his +approbation; or, in his absence, to the officer commanding for the time +being. But, as Washington held his headquarters at New Windsor, on the +western bank of the Hudson, there was sufficient time to receive his +answer. + +“This is short notice,” said the veteran, holding the pen in his hand, +in a suspense that had no object; “not a day to fit one so young for +heaven?” + +“The royal officers gave Hale[12] but an hour,” returned his comrade; +“we have granted the usual time. But Washington has the power to extend +it, or to pardon.” + +“Then to Washington will I go,” cried the colonel, returning the paper +with his signature; “and if the services of an old man like me, or that +brave boy of mine, entitle me to his ear, I will yet save the youth.” + +So saying, he departed, full of his generous intentions in favor of +Henry Wharton. + +The sentence of the court was communicated, with proper tenderness, to +the prisoner; and after giving a few necessary instructions to the +officer in command, and dispatching a courier to headquarters with +their report, the remaining judges mounted, and rode to their own +quarters, with the same unmoved exterior, but with the consciousness of +the same dispassionate integrity, that they had maintained throughout +the trial. + + [12] An American officer of this name was detected within the British + lines, in disguise, in search of military information. He was tried + and executed, as stated in the text, as soon as the preparations could + be made. It is said that he was reproached under the gallows with + dishonoring the rank he held by his fate. ‘What a death for an officer + to die!’ said one of his captors. ‘Gentlemen, any death is honorable + when a man dies in a cause like that of America,’ was his answer. + André was executed amid the tears of his enemies; Hale died unpitied + and with reproaches in his ears; and yet one was the victim of + ambition, and the other of devotion to his country. Posterity will do + justice between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, +But he must die to-morrow? + + +_—Measure for Measure._ + + +A few hours were passed by the prisoner, after his sentence was +received, in the bosom of his family. Mr. Wharton wept in hopeless +despondency over the untimely fate of his son; and Frances, after +recovering from her insensibility, experienced an anguish of feeling to +which the bitterness of death itself would have been comparatively +light. Miss Peyton alone retained a vestige of hope, or presence of +mind to suggest what might be proper to be done under their +circumstances. The comparative composure of the good aunt arose in no +degree from any want of interest in the welfare of her nephew, but it +was founded in a kind of instinctive dependence on the character of +Washington. He was a native of the same colony with herself; and +although his early military services, and her frequent visits to the +family of her sister, and subsequent establishment at its head, had +prevented their ever meeting, still she was familiar with his domestic +virtues, and well knew that the rigid inflexibility for which his +public acts were distinguished formed no part of his reputation in +private life. He was known in Virginia as a consistent but just and +lenient master; and she felt a kind of pride in associating in her mind +her countryman with the man who led the armies, and in a great measure +controlled the destinies, of America. She knew that Henry was innocent +of the crime for which he was condemned to suffer, and, with that kind +of simple faith that is ever to be found in the most ingenuous +characters, could not conceive of those constructions and +interpretations of law that inflicted punishment without the actual +existence of crime. But even her confiding hopes were doomed to meet +with a speedy termination. Towards noon, a regiment of militia, that +were quartered on the banks of the river, moved to the ground in front +of the house that held our heroine and her family, and deliberately +pitched their tents, with the avowed intention of remaining until the +following morning, to give solemnity and effect to the execution of a +British spy. + +Dunwoodie had performed all that was required of him by his orders, and +was at liberty to retrace his steps to his expectant squadron, which +was impatiently waiting his return to be led against a detachment of +the enemy that was known to be slowly moving up the banks of the river, +in order to cover a party of foragers in its rear. He was accompanied +by a small party of Lawton’s troop, under the expectation that their +testimony might be required to convict the prisoner; and Mason, the +lieutenant, was in command. But the confession of Captain Wharton had +removed the necessity of examining any witnesses on behalf of the +people.[13] The major, from an unwillingness to encounter the distress +of Henry’s friends, and a dread of trusting himself within its +influence, had spent the time we have mentioned in walking by himself, +in keen anxiety, at a short distance from the dwelling. Like Miss +Peyton, he had some reliance on the mercy of Washington, although +moments of terrific doubt and despondency were continually crossing his +mind. To him the rules of service were familiar, and he was more +accustomed to consider his general in the capacity of a ruler, than as +exhibiting the characteristics of the individual. A dreadful instance +had too recently occurred, which fully proved that Washington was above +the weakness of sparing another in mercy to himself. While pacing, with +hurried steps, through the orchard, laboring under these constantly +recurring doubts, enlivened by transient rays of hope, Mason +approached, accoutered completely for the saddle. + +“Thinking you might have forgotten the news brought this morning from +below, sir, I have taken the liberty to order the detachment under +arms,” said the lieutenant, very coolly, cutting down with his sheathed +saber the mullein tops that grew within his reach. + +“What news?” cried the major, starting. + +“Only that John Bull is out in Westchester, with a train of wagons, +which, if he fills, will compel us to retire through these cursed +hills, in search of provender. These greedy Englishmen are so shut up +on York Island, that when they do venture out, they seldom leave straw +enough to furnish the bed of a Yankee heiress.” + +“Where did the express leave them, did you say? The intelligence has +entirely escaped my memory.” + +“On the heights above Sing Sing,” returned the lieutenant, with no +little amazement. “The road below looks like a hay market, and all the +swine are sighing forth their lamentations, as the corn passes them +towards King’s Bridge. George Singleton’s orderly, who brought up the +tidings, says that our horses were holding consultation if they should +not go down without their riders, and eat another meal, for it is +questionable with them whether they can get a full stomach again. If +they are suffered to get back with their plunder, we shall not be able +to find a piece of pork at Christmas fat enough to fry itself.” + +“Peace, with all this nonsense of Singleton’s orderly, Mr. Mason,” +cried Dunwoodie, impatiently; “let him learn to wait the orders of his +superiors.” + +“I beg pardon in his name, Major Dunwoodie,” said the subaltern; “but, +like myself, he was in error. We both thought it was the order of +General Heath, to attack and molest the enemy whenever he ventured out +of his nest.” + +“Recollect yourself, Lieutenant Mason,” said the major, “or I may have +to teach you that your orders pass through me.” + +“I know it, Major Dunwoodie—I know it; and I am sorry that your memory +is so bad as to forget that I never have yet hesitated to obey them.” + +“Forgive me, Mason,” cried Dunwoodie, taking both his hands. “I do know +you for a brave and obedient soldier; forget my humor. But this +business—had you ever a friend?” + +“Nay, nay,” interrupted the lieutenant, “forgive me and my honest zeal. +I knew of the orders, and was fearful that censure might fall on my +officer. But remain, and let a man breathe a syllable against the +corps, and every sword will start from the scabbard of itself; besides, +they are still moving up, and it is a long road from Croton to King’s +Bridge. Happen what may, I see plainly that we shall be on their heels +before they are housed again.” + +“Oh! that the courier was returned from headquarters!” exclaimed +Dunwoodie. “This suspense is insupportable.” + +“You have your wish,” cried Mason. “Here he is at the moment, and +riding like the bearer of good news. God send it may be so; for I can’t +say that I particularly like myself to see a brave young fellow dancing +upon nothing.” + +Dunwoodie heard but very little of this feeling declaration; for, ere +half of it was uttered, he had leaped the fence and stood before the +messenger. + +“What news?” cried the major, the moment that the soldier stopped his +horse. + +“Good!” exclaimed the man; and feeling no hesitation to intrust an +officer so well known as Major Dunwoodie, he placed the paper in his +hands, as he added, “but you can read it, sir, for yourself.” + +Dunwoodie paused not to read; but flew, with the elastic spring of joy, +to the chamber of the prisoner. The sentinel knew him, and he was +suffered to pass without question. + +“Oh! Peyton,” cried Frances, as he entered the apartment, “you look +like a messenger from heaven! Bring you tidings of mercy?” + +“Here, Frances—here, Henry—here, dear cousin Jeanette,” cried the +youth, as with trembling hands he broke the seal; “here is the letter +itself, directed to the captain of the guard. But listen—” + +All did listen with intense anxiety; and the pang of blasted hope was +added to their misery, as they saw the glow of delight which had beamed +on the countenance of the major give place to a look of horror. The +paper contained the sentence of the court, and underneath was written +these simple words,— + +“Approved—GEO. WASHINGTON.” + +“He’s lost, he’s lost!” cried Frances, sinking into the arms of her +aunt. + +“My son! my son!” sobbed the father, “there is mercy in heaven, if +there is none on earth. May Washington never want that mercy he thus +denies to my innocent child!” + +“Washington!” echoed Dunwoodie, gazing around him in vacant horror. +“Yes, ’tis the act of Washington himself; these are his characters; his +very name is here, to sanction the dreadful deed.” + +“Cruel, cruel Washington!” cried Miss Peyton. “How has familiarity with +blood changed his nature!” + +“Blame him not,” said Dunwoodie; “it is the general, and not the man; +my life on it, he feels the blow he is compelled to inflict.” + +“I have been deceived in him,” cried Frances. “He is not the savior of +his country; but a cold and merciless tyrant. Oh! Peyton, Peyton! how +have you misled me in his character!” + +“Peace, dear Frances; peace, for God’s sake; use not such language. He +is but the guardian of the law.” + +“You speak the truth, Major Dunwoodie,” said Henry, recovering from the +shock of having his last ray of hope extinguished, and advancing from +his seat by the side of his father. “I, who am to suffer, blame him +not. Every indulgence has been granted me that I can ask. On the verge +of the grave I cannot continue unjust. At such a moment, with so recent +an instance of danger to your cause from treason, I wonder not at +Washington’s unbending justice. Nothing now remains but to prepare for +that fate which so speedily awaits me. To you, Major Dunwoodie, I make +my first request.” + +“Name it,” said the major, giving utterance with difficulty. + +Henry turned, and pointing to the group of weeping mourners near him, +he continued,— + +“Be a son to this aged man; help his weakness, and defend him from any +usage to which the stigma thrown upon me may subject him. He has not +many friends amongst the rulers of this country; let your powerful name +be found among them.” + +“It shall.” + +“And this helpless innocent,” continued Henry, pointing to where Sarah +sat, unconscious of what was passing, “I had hoped for an opportunity +to revenge her wrongs;” a flush of excitement passed over his features; +“but such thoughts are evil—I feel them to be wrong. Under your care, +Peyton, she will find sympathy and refuge.” + +“She shall,” whispered Dunwoodie. + +“This good aunt has claims upon you already; of her I will not speak; +but here,” taking the hand of Frances, and dwelling upon her +countenance with an expression of fraternal affection, “here is the +choicest gift of all. Take her to your bosom, and cherish her as you +would cultivate innocence and virtue.” + +The major could not repress the eagerness with which he extended his +hand to receive the precious boon; but Frances, shrinking from his +touch, hid her face in the bosom of her aunt. + +“No, no, no!” she murmured. “None can ever be anything to me who aid in +my brother’s destruction.” + +Henry continued gazing at her in tender pity for several moments, +before he again resumed a discourse that all felt was most peculiarly +his own. + +“I have been mistaken, then. I did think, Peyton, that your worth, your +noble devotion to a cause that you have been taught to revere, that +your kindness to our father when in imprisonment, your friendship for +me,—in short, that your character was understood and valued by my +sister.” + +“It is—it is,” whispered Frances, burying her face still deeper in the +bosom of her aunt. + +“I believe, dear Henry,” said Dunwoodie, “this is a subject that had +better not be dwelt upon now.” + +“You forget,” returned the prisoner, with a faint smile, “how much I +have to do, and how little time is left to do it in.” + +“I apprehend,” continued the major, with a face of fire, “that Miss +Wharton has imbibed some opinions of me that would make a compliance +with your request irksome to her—opinions that it is now too late to +alter.” + +“No, no, no,” cried Frances, quickly, “you are exonerated, Peyton—with +her dying breath she removed my doubts.” + +“Generous Isabella!” murmured Dunwoodie; “but, still, Henry, spare your +sister now; nay, spare even me.” + +“I speak in pity to myself,” returned the brother, gently removing +Frances from the arms of her aunt. “What a time is this to leave two +such lovely females without a protector! Their abode is destroyed, and +misery will speedily deprive them of their last male friend,” looking +at his father; “can I die in peace with the knowledge of the danger to +which they will be exposed?” + +“You forget me,” said Miss Peyton, shrinking at the idea of celebrating +nuptials at such a moment. + +“No, my dear aunt, I forget you not, nor shall I, until I cease to +remember; but you forget the times and the danger. The good woman who +lives in this house has already dispatched a messenger for a man of +God, to smooth my passage to another world. Frances, if you would wish +me to die in peace, to feel a security that will allow me to turn my +whole thoughts to heaven, you will let this clergyman unite you to +Dunwoodie.” + +Frances shook her head, but remained silent. + +“I ask for no joy—no demonstration of a felicity that you will not, +cannot feel, for months to come; but obtain a right to his powerful +name—give him an undisputed title to protect you—” + +Again the maid made an impressive gesture of denial. + +“For the sake of that unconscious sufferer”—pointing to Sarah, “for +your sake—for my sake—my sister—” + +“Peace, Henry, or you will break my heart,” cried the agitated girl. +“Not for worlds would I at such a moment engage in the solemn vows that +you wish. It would render me miserable for life.” + +“You love him not,” said Henry, reproachfully. “I cease to importune +you to do what is against your inclinations.” + +Frances raised one hand to conceal her countenance, as she extended the +other towards Dunwoodie, and said earnestly,— + +“Now you are unjust to me—before, you were unjust to yourself.” + +“Promise me, then,” said Wharton, musing awhile in silence, “that as +soon as the recollection of my fate is softened, you will give my +friend that hand for life, and I am satisfied.” + +“I do promise,” said Frances, withdrawing the hand that Dunwoodie +delicately relinquished, without even presuming to press it to his +lips. + +“Well, then, my good aunt,” continued Henry, “will you leave me for a +short time alone with my friend? I have a few melancholy commissions +with which to intrust him, and would spare you and my sister the pain +of hearing them.” + +“There is yet time to see Washington again,” said Miss Peyton, moving +towards the door; and then, speaking with extreme dignity, she +continued, “I will go myself; surely he must listen to a woman from his +own colony!—and we are in some degree connected with his family.” + +“Why not apply to Mr. Harper?” said Frances, recollecting the parting +words of their guest for the first time. + +“Harper!” echoed Dunwoodie, turning towards her with the swiftness of +lightning; “what of him? Do you know him?” + +“It is in vain,” said Henry, drawing him aside; “Frances clings to hope +with the fondness of a sister. Retire, my love, and leave me with my +friend.” + +But Frances read an expression in the eye of Dunwoodie that chained her +to the spot. After struggling to command her feelings, she continued,— + +“He stayed with us for two days—he was with us when Henry was +arrested.” + +“And—and—did you know him?” + +“Nay,” continued Frances, catching her breath as she witnessed the +intense interest of her lover, “we knew him not; he came to us in the +night, a stranger, and remained with us during the severe storm; but he +seemed to take an interest in Henry, and promised him his friendship,” + +“What!” exclaimed the youth in astonishment. “Did he know your +brother?” + +“Certainly; it was at his request that Henry threw aside his disguise.” + +“But,” said Dunwoodie, turning pale with suspense, “he knew him not as +an officer of the royal army?” + +“Indeed he did,” cried Miss Peyton; “and he cautioned us against this +very danger.” + +Dunwoodie caught up the fatal paper, that still lay where it had fallen +from his own hands, and studied its characters intently. Something +seemed to bewilder his brain. He passed his hand over his forehead, +while each eye was fixed on him in dreadful suspense—all feeling afraid +to admit those hopes anew that had been so sadly destroyed. + +“What said he? What promised he?” at length Dunwoodie asked, with +feverish impatience. + +“He bid Henry apply to him when in danger, and promised to requite the +son for the hospitality of the father.” + +“Said he this, knowing him to be a British officer?” + +“Most certainly; and with a view to this very danger.” + +“Then,” cried the youth aloud, and yielding to his rapture, “then you +are safe—then will I save him; yes, Harper will never forget his word.” + +“But has he the power to?” said Frances. “Can he move the stubborn +purpose of Washington?” + +“Can he? If he cannot,” shouted the youth, “if he cannot, who can? +Greene, and Heath, and young Hamilton are nothing compared to this +Harper. But,” rushing to his mistress, and pressing her hands +convulsively, “repeat to me—you say you have his promise?” + +“Surely, surely, Peyton; his solemn, deliberate promise, knowing all +the circumstances.” + +“Rest easy,” cried Dunwoodie, holding her to his bosom for a moment, +“rest easy, for Henry is safe.” + +He waited not to explain, but darting from the room, he left the family +in amazement. They continued in silent wonder until they heard the feet +of his charger, as he dashed from the door with the speed of an arrow. + +A long time was spent after this abrupt departure of the youth, by the +anxious friends he had left, in discussing the probability of his +success. The confidence of his manner had, however, communicated to his +auditors something of his own spirit. Each felt that the prospects of +Henry were again brightening, and with their reviving hopes they +experienced a renewal of spirits, which in all but Henry himself +amounted to pleasure; with him, indeed, his state was too awful to +admit of trifling, and for a few hours he was condemned to feel how +much more intolerable was suspense than even the certainty of calamity. +Not so with Frances. She, with all the reliance of affection, reposed +in security on the assurance of Dunwoodie, without harassing herself +with doubts that she possessed not the means of satisfying; but +believing her lover able to accomplish everything that man could do, +and retaining a vivid recollection of the manner and benevolent +appearance of Harper, she abandoned herself to all the felicity of +renovated hope. + +The joy of Miss Peyton was more sobered, and she took frequent +occasions to reprove her niece for the exuberance of her spirits, +before there was a certainty that their expectations were to be +realized. But the slight smile that hovered around the lips of the +virgin contradicted the very sobriety of feeling that she inculcated. + +“Why, dearest aunt,” said Frances, playfully, in reply to one of her +frequent reprimands, “would you have me repress the pleasure that I +feel at Henry’s deliverance, when you yourself have so often declared +it to be impossible that such men as ruled in our country could +sacrifice an innocent man?” + +“Nay, I did believe it impossible, my child, and yet think so; but +still there is a discretion to be shown in joy as well as in sorrow.” + +Frances recollected the declaration of Isabella, and turned an eye +filled with tears of gratitude on her excellent aunt, as she replied,— + +“True; but there are feelings that will not yield to reason. Ah! here +are those monsters, who have come to witness the death of a fellow +creature, moving around yon field, as if life was, to them, nothing but +a military show.” + +“It is but little more to the hireling soldier,” said Henry, +endeavoring to forget his uneasiness. + +“You gaze, my love, as if you thought a military show of some +importance,” said Miss Peyton, observing her niece to be looking from +the window with a fixed and abstracted attention. But Frances answered +not. + +From the window where she stood, the pass that they had traveled +through the Highlands was easily to be seen; and the mountain which +held on its summit the mysterious hut was directly before her. Its side +was rugged and barren; huge and apparently impassable barriers of rocks +presenting themselves through the stunted oaks, which, stripped of +their foliage, were scattered over its surface. The base of the hill +was not half a mile from the house, and the object which attracted the +notice of Frances was the figure of a man emerging from behind a rock +of remarkable formation, and as suddenly disappearing. The maneuver was +several times repeated, as if it were the intention of the fugitive +(for such by his air he seemed to be) to reconnoiter the proceedings of +the soldiery, and assure himself of the position of things on the +plain. Notwithstanding the distance, Frances instantly imbibed the +opinion that it was Birch. Perhaps this impression was partly owing to +the air and figure of the man, but in a great measure to the idea that +presented itself on formerly beholding the object at the summit of the +mountain. That they were the same figure she was confident, although +this wanted the appearance which, in the other, she had taken for the +pack of the peddler. Harvey had so connected himself with the +mysterious deportment of Harper, within her imagination, that under +circumstances of less agitation than those in which she had labored +since her arrival, she would have kept her suspicions to herself. +Frances, therefore, sat ruminating on this second appearance in +silence, and endeavoring to trace what possible connection this +extraordinary man could have with the fortunes of her own family. He +had certainly saved Sarah in some degree, from the blow that had +partially alighted on her, and in no instance had he proved himself to +be hostile to their interests. + +After gazing for a long time at the point where she had last seen the +figure, in the vain expectation of its reappearance, she turned to her +friends in the apartment. Miss Peyton was sitting by Sarah, who gave +some slight additional signs of observing what passed, but who still +continued insensible either to joy or grief. + +“I suppose, by this time, my love, that you are well acquainted with +the maneuvers of a regiment,” said Miss Peyton. “It is no bad quality +in a soldier’s wife, at all events.” + +“I am not a wife yet,” said Frances, coloring to the eyes; “and we have +little reason to wish for another wedding in our family.” + +“Frances!” exclaimed her brother, starting from his seat, and pacing +the floor in violent agitation. “Touch not the chord again, I entreat +you. While my fate is uncertain, I would wish to be at peace with all +men.” + +“Then let the uncertainty cease,” cried Frances, springing to the door, +“for here comes Peyton with the joyful intelligence of your release.” + +The words were hardly uttered, before the door opened, and the major +entered. In his air there was the appearance of neither success nor +defeat, but there was a marked display of vexation. He took the hand +that Frances, in the fullness of her heart, extended towards him, but +instantly relinquishing it, threw himself into a chair, in evident +fatigue. + +“You have failed,” said Wharton, with a bound of his heart, but an +appearance of composure. + +“Have you seen Harper?” cried Frances, turning pale. + +“I have not. I crossed the river in one boat as he must have been +coming to this side, in another. I returned without delay, and traced +him for several miles into the Highlands, by the western pass, but +there I unaccountably lost him. I have returned here to relieve your +uneasiness, but see him I will this night, and bring a respite for +Henry.” + +“But saw you Washington?” asked Miss Peyton. + +Dunwoodie gazed at her a moment in abstracted musing, and the question +was repeated. He answered gravely, and with some reserve,— + +“The commander in chief had left his quarters.” + +“But, Peyton,” cried Frances, in returning terror, “if they should not +see each other, it will be too late. Harper alone will not be +sufficient.” + +Her lover turned his eyes slowly on her anxious countenance, and +dwelling a moment on her features, said, still musing,— + +“You say that he promised to assist Henry.” + +“Certainly, of his own accord and in requital for the hospitality he +had received.” + +Dunwoodie shook his head, and began to look grave. + +“I like not that word hospitality—it has an empty sound; there must be +something more reasonable to tie Harper. I dread some mistake; repeat +to me all that passed.” + +Frances, in a hurried and earnest voice, complied with his request. She +related particularly the manner of his arrival at the Locusts, the +reception that he received, and the events that passed as minutely as +her memory could supply her with the means. As she alluded to the +conversation that occurred between her father and his guest, the major +smiled but remained silent. She then gave a detail of Henry’s arrival, +and the events of the following day. She dwelt upon the part where +Harper had desired her brother to throw aside his disguise, and +recounted, with wonderful accuracy, his remarks upon the hazard of the +step that the youth had taken. She even remembered a remarkable +expression of his to her brother, “that he was safer from Harper’s +knowledge of his person, than he would be without it.” Frances +mentioned, with the warmth of youthful admiration, the benevolent +character of his deportment to herself, and gave a minute relation of +his adieus to the whole family. + +Dunwoodie at first listened with grave attention; evident satisfaction +followed as she proceeded. When she spoke of herself in connection with +their guest, he smiled with pleasure, and as she concluded, he +exclaimed, with delight,— + +“We are safe!—we are safe!” + +But he was interrupted, as will be seen in the following chapter. + + [13] In America justice is administered in the name of “the good + people,” etc., etc., the sovereignty residing with them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +The owlet loves the gloom of night, +The lark salutes the day, +The timid dove will coo at hand— +But falcons soar away. + + +—_Song in Duo_. + + +In a country settled, like these states, by a people who fled their +native land and much-loved firesides, victims of consciences and +religious zeal, none of the decencies and solemnities of a Christian +death are dispensed with, when circumstances will admit of their +exercise. The good woman of the house was a strict adherent to the +forms of the church to which she belonged; and having herself been +awakened to a sense of her depravity, by the ministry of the divine who +harangued the people of the adjoining parish, she thought it was from +his exhortations only that salvation could be meted out to the +short-lived hopes of Henry Wharton. Not that the kind-hearted matron +was so ignorant of the doctrines of the religion which she professed, +as to depend, theoretically, on mortal aid for protection; but she had, +to use her own phrase, “sat so long under the preaching of good Mr.——,” +that she had unconsciously imbibed a practical reliance on his +assistance, for that which her faith should have taught her could come +from the Deity alone. With her, the consideration of death was at all +times awful, and the instant that the sentence of the prisoner was +promulgated, she dispatched Caesar, mounted on one of her husband’s +best horses, in quest of her clerical monitor. This step had been taken +without consulting either Henry or his friends; and it was only when +the services of Caesar were required on some domestic emergency, that +she explained the nature of his absence. The youth heard her, at first, +with an unconquerable reluctance to admit of such a spiritual guide; +but as our view of the things of this life becomes less vivid, our +prejudices and habits cease to retain their influence; and a civil bow +of thanks was finally given, in requital for the considerate care of +the well-meaning woman. + +The black returned early from his expedition, and, as well as could be +gathered from his somewhat incoherent narrative, a minister of God +might be expected to arrive in the course of the day. The interruption +that we mentioned in our preceding chapter was occasioned by the +entrance of the landlady. At the intercession of Dunwoodie, orders had +been given to the sentinel who guarded the door of Henry’s room, that +the members of the prisoner’s family should, at all times, have free +access to his apartment. Caesar was included in this arrangement, as a +matter of convenience, by the officer in command; but strict inquiry +and examination was made into the errand of every other applicant for +admission. The major had, however, included himself among the relatives +of the British officer; and one pledge, that no rescue should be +attempted, was given in his name, for them all. A short conversation +was passing between the woman of the house and the corporal of the +guard, before the door that the sentinel had already opened in +anticipation of the decision of his noncommissioned commandant. + +“Would you refuse the consolations of religion to a fellow creature +about to suffer death?” said the matron, with earnest zeal. “Would you +plunge a soul into the fiery furnace, and a minister at hand to point +out the straight and narrow path?” + +“I’ll tell you what, good woman,” returned the corporal, gently pushing +her away; “I’ve no notion of my back being a highway for any man to +walk to heaven upon. A pretty figure I should make at the pickets, for +disobeying orders. Just step down and ask Lieutenant Mason, and you may +bring in a whole congregation. We have not taken the guard from the +foot soldiers, but an hour, and I shouldn’t like to have it said that +we know less than the militia.” + +“Admit the woman,” said Dunwoodie, sternly, observing, for the first +time, that one of his own corps was on post. + +The corporal raised his hand to his cap, and fell back in silence; the +soldier stood to his arms, and the matron entered. + +“Here is a reverend gentleman below, come to soothe the parting soul, +in the place of our own divine, who is engaged with an appointment that +could not be put aside; ’tis to bury old Mr.——” + +“Show him in at once,” said Henry, with feverish impatience. + +“But will the sentinel let him pass? I would not wish a friend of +Mr.—to be rudely stopped on the threshold, and he a stranger.” + +All eyes were now turned on Dunwoodie, who, looking at his watch, spoke +a few words with Henry, in an undertone, and hastened from the +apartment, followed by Frances. The subject of their conversation was a +wish expressed by the prisoner for a clergyman of his own persuasion, +and a promise from the major, that one should be sent from Fishkill +town, through which he was about to pass, on his way to the ferry to +intercept the expected return of Harper. Mason soon made his bow at the +door, and willingly complied with the wishes of the landlady; and the +divine was invited to make his appearance accordingly. + +The person who was ushered into the apartment, preceded by Caesar, and +followed by the matron, was a man beyond the middle age, or who might +rather be said to approach the downhill of life. In stature he was +above the size of ordinary men, though his excessive leanness might +contribute in deceiving as to his height; his countenance was sharp and +unbending, and every muscle seemed set in rigid compression. No joy or +relaxation appeared ever to have dwelt on features that frowned +habitually, as if in detestation of the vices of mankind. The brows +were beetling, dark, and forbidding, giving the promise of eyes of no +less repelling expression; but the organs were concealed beneath a pair +of enormous green goggles, through which they glared around with a +fierceness that denounced the coming day of wrath. All was fanaticism, +uncharitableness, and denunciation. Long, lank hair, a mixture of gray +and black, fell down his neck, and in some degree obscured the sides of +his face, and, parting on his forehead, fell in either direction in +straight and formal screens. On the top of this ungraceful exhibition +was laid impending forward, so as to overhang in some measure the whole +fabric, a large hat of three equal cocks. His coat was of a rusty +black, and his breeches and stockings were of the same color; his shoes +without luster, and half-concealed beneath huge plated buckles. He +stalked into the room, and giving a stiff nod with his head, took the +chair offered him by the black, in dignified silence. For several +minutes no one broke this ominous pause in the conversation; Henry +feeling a repugnance to his guest, that he was vainly endeavoring to +conquer, and the stranger himself drawing forth occasional sighs and +groans, that threatened a dissolution of the unequal connection between +his sublimated soul and its ungainly tenement. During this, deathlike +preparation, Mr. Wharton, with a feeling nearly allied to that of his +son, led Sarah from the apartment. His retreat was noticed by the +divine, in a kind of scornful disdain, who began to hum the air of a +popular psalm tune, giving it the full richness of the twang that +distinguishes the Eastern[14] psalmody. + +“Caesar,” said Miss Peyton, “hand the gentleman some refreshment; he +must need it after his ride.” + +“My strength is not in the things of this life,” said the divine, +speaking in a hollow, sepulchral voice. “Thrice have I this day held +forth in my Master’s service, and fainted not; still it is prudent to +help this frail tenement of clay, for, surely, ‘the laborer is worthy +of his hire.’” + +Opening a pair of enormous jaws, he took a good measure of the +proffered brandy, and suffered it to glide downwards, with that sort of +facility with which man is prone to sin. + +“I apprehend, then, sir, that fatigue will disable you from performing +the duties which kindness has induced you to attempt.” + +“Woman!” exclaimed the stranger, with energy, “when was I ever known to +shrink from a duty? But ‘judge not lest ye be judged,’ and fancy not +that it is given to mortal eyes to fathom the intentions of the Deity.” + +“Nay,” returned the maiden, meekly, and slightly disgusted with his +jargon, “I pretend not to judge of either events, or the intentions of +my fellow creatures, much less of those of Omnipotence.” + +“’Tis well, woman,—’tis well,” cried the minister, moving his head with +supercilious disdain; “humility becometh thy sex and lost condition; +thy weakness driveth thee on headlong like ‘unto the bosom of +destruction.’” + +Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, but yielding to that habit +which urges us to speak reverently on sacred subjects, even when +perhaps we had better continue silent, Miss Peyton replied,— + +“There is a Power above, that can and will sustain us all in +well-doing, if we seek its support in humility and truth.” + +The stranger turned a lowering look at the speaker, and then composing +himself into an air of self-abasement, he continued in the same +repelling tones,— + +“It is not everyone that crieth out for mercy, that will be heard. The +ways of Providence are not to be judged by men—‘Many are called, but +few chosen.’ It is easier to talk of humility than to feel it. Are you +so humble, vile worm, as to wish to glorify God by your own damnation? +If not, away with you for a publican and a Pharisee!” + +Such gross fanaticism was uncommon in America, and Miss Peyton began to +imbibe the impression that her guest was deranged; but remembering that +he had been sent by a well-known divine, and one of reputation, she +discarded the idea, and, with some forbearance, observed,— + +“I may deceive myself, in believing that mercy is proffered to all, but +it is so soothing a doctrine, that I would not willingly be +undeceived.” + +“Mercy is only for the elect,” cried the stranger, with an +unaccountable energy; “and you are in the ‘valley of the shadow of +death.’ Are you not a follower of idle ceremonies, which belong to the +vain church that our tyrants would gladly establish here, along with +their stamp acts and tea laws? Answer me that, woman; and remember, +that Heaven hears your answer; are you not of that idolatrous +communion?” + +“I worship at the altars of my fathers,” said Miss Peyton, motioning to +Henry for silence; “but bow to no other idol than my own infirmities.” + +“Yes, yes, I know ye, self-righteous and papal as ye are—followers of +forms, and listeners to bookish preaching; think you, woman, that holy +Paul had notes in his hand to propound the Word to the believers?” + +“My presence disturbs you,” said Miss Peyton, rising. “I will leave you +with my nephew, and offer those prayers in private that I did wish to +mingle with his.” + +So saying, she withdrew, followed by the landlady, who was not a little +shocked, and somewhat surprised, by the intemperate zeal of her new +acquaintance; for, although the good woman believed that Miss Peyton +and her whole church were on the highroad to destruction, she was by no +means accustomed to hear such offensive and open avowals of their fate. + +Henry had with difficulty repressed the indignation excited by this +unprovoked attack on his meek and unresisting aunt; but as the door +closed on her retiring figure, he gave way to his feelings. + +“I must confess, sir,” he exclaimed with heat, “that in receiving a +minister of God, I thought I was admitting a Christian; and one who, by +feeling his own weaknesses, knew how to pity the frailties of others. +You have wounded the meek spirit of an excellent woman, and I +acknowledge but little inclination to mingle in prayer with so +intolerant a spirit.” + +The minister stood erect, with grave composure, following with his +eyes, in a kind of scornful pity, the retiring females, and suffered +the expostulation of the youth to be given, as if unworthy of his +notice. A third voice, however, spoke,— + +“Such a denunciation would have driven many women into fits; but it has +answered the purpose well enough, as it is.” + +“Who’s that?” cried the prisoner, in amazement, gazing around the room +in quest of the speaker. + +“It is I, Captain Wharton,” said Harvey Birch, removing the spectacles, +and exhibiting his piercing eyes, shining under a pair of false +eyebrows. + +“Good heavens—Harvey!” + +“Silence!” said the peddler, solemnly. “’Tis a name not to be +mentioned, and least of all here, within the heart of the American +army.” Birch paused and gazed around him for a moment, with an emotion +exceeding the base passion of fear, and then continued in a gloomy +tone, “There are a thousand halters in that very name, and little hope +would there be left me of another escape, should I be again taken. This +is a fearful venture that I am making; but I could not sleep in quiet, +and know that an innocent man was about to die the death of a dog, when +I might save him.” + +“No,” said Henry, with a glow of generous feeling on his cheek, “if the +risk to yourself be so heavy, retire as you came, and leave me to my +fate. Dunwoodie is making, even now, powerful exertions in my behalf; +and if he meets with Mr. Harper in the course of the night, my +liberation is certain.” + +“Harper!” echoed the peddler, remaining with his hands raised, in the +act of replacing the spectacles. “What do you know of Harper? And why +do you think he will do you service?” + +“I have his promise; you remember our recent meeting in my father’s +dwelling, and he then gave an unasked promise to assist me.” + +“Yes—but do you know him? That is—why do you think he has the power? +Or what reason have you for believing he will remember his word?” + +“If there ever was the stamp of truth, or simple, honest benevolence, +in the countenance of man, it shone in his,” said Henry. “Besides, +Dunwoodie has powerful friends in the rebel army, and it would be +better that I take the chance where I am, than thus to expose you to +certain death, if detected.” + +“Captain Wharton,” said Birch, looking guardedly around and speaking +with impressive seriousness of manner, “if I fail you, all fail you. No +Harper nor Dunwoodie can save your life; unless you get out with me, +and that within the hour, you die to-morrow on the gallows of a +murderer. Yes, such are their laws; the man who fights, and kills, and +plunders, is honored; but he who serves his country as a spy, no matter +how faithfully, no matter how honestly, lives to be reviled, or dies +like the vilest criminal!” + +“You forget, Mr. Birch,” said the youth, a little indignantly, “that I +am not a treacherous, lurking spy, who deceives to betray; but innocent +of the charge imputed to me.” + +The blood rushed over the pale, meager features of the peddler, until +his face was one glow of fire; but it passed quickly away, as he +replied,— + +“I have told you truth. Caesar met me, as he was going on his errand +this morning, and with him I have laid the plan which, if executed as I +wish, will save you—otherwise you are lost; and I again tell you, that +no other power on earth, not even Washington, can save you.” + +“I submit,” said the prisoner, yielding to his earnest manner, and +goaded by the fears that were thus awakened anew. + +The peddler beckoned him to be silent, and walking to the door, opened +it, with the stiff, formal air with which he had entered the apartment. + +“Friend, let no one enter,” he said to the sentinel. “We are about to +go to prayer, and would wish to be alone.” + +“I don’t know that any will wish to interrupt you,” returned the +soldier, with a waggish leer of his eye; “but, should they be so +disposed, I have no power to stop them, if they be of the prisoner’s +friends. I have my orders, and must mind them, whether the Englishman +goes to heaven, or not.” + +“Audacious sinner!” said the pretended priest, “have you not the fear +of God before your eyes? I tell you, as you will dread punishment at +the last day, to let none of the idolatrous communion enter, to mingle +in the prayers of the righteous.” + +“Whew-ew-ew—what a noble commander you’d make for Sergeant Hollister! +You’d preach him dumb in a roll call. Harkee, I’ll thank you not to +make such a noise when you hold forth, as to drown our bugles, or you +may get a poor fellow a short horn at his grog, for not turning out to +the evening parade. If you want to be alone, have you no knife to stick +over the door latch, that you must have a troop of horse to guard your +meetinghouse?” + +The peddler took the hint, and closed the door immediately, using the +precaution suggested by the dragoon. + +“You overact your part,” said young Wharton, in constant apprehension +of discovery; “your zeal is too intemperate.” + +“For a foot soldier and them Eastern militia, it might be,” said +Harvey, turning a bag upside down, that Caesar now handed him; “but +these dragoons are fellows that you must brag down. A faint heart, +Captain Wharton, would do but little here; but come, here is a black +shroud for your good-looking countenance,” taking, at the same time, a +parchment mask, and fitting it to the face of Henry. “The master and +the man must change places for a season.” + +“I don’t t’ink he look a bit like me,” said Caesar, with disgust, as he +surveyed his young master with his new complexion. + +“Stop a minute, Caesar,” said the peddler, with the lurking drollery +that at times formed part of his manner, “till we get on the wool.” + +“He worse than ebber now,” cried the discontented African. “A t’ink +colored man like a sheep! I nebber see sich a lip, Harvey; he most as +big as a sausage!” + +Great pains had been taken in forming the different articles used in +the disguise of Captain Wharton, and when arranged, under the skillful +superintendence of the peddler, they formed together a transformation +that would easily escape detection, from any but an extraordinary +observer. + +The mask was stuffed and shaped in such a manner as to preserve the +peculiarities, as well as the color, of the African visage; and the wig +was so artfully formed of black and white wool, as to imitate the +pepper-and-salt color of Caesar’s own head, and to exact plaudits from +the black himself, who thought it an excellent counterfeit in +everything but quality. + +“There is but one man in the American army who could detect you, +Captain Wharton,” said the peddler, surveying his work with +satisfaction, “and he is just now out of our way.” + +“And who is he?” + +“The man who made you prisoner. He would see your white skin through a +plank. But strip, both of you; your clothes must be exchanged from head +to foot.” + +Caesar, who had received minute instructions from the peddler in their +morning interview, immediately commenced throwing aside his coarse +garments, which the youth took up and prepared to invest himself with; +unable, however, to repress a few signs of loathing. + +In the manner of the peddler there was an odd mixture of care and +humor; the former was the result of a perfect knowledge of their +danger, and the means necessary to be used in avoiding it; and the +latter proceeded from the unavoidably ludicrous circumstances before +him, acting on an indifference which sprang from habit, and long +familiarity with such scenes as the present. + +“Here, captain,” he said, taking up some loose wool, and beginning to +stuff the stockings of Caesar, which were already on the leg of the +prisoner; “some judgment is necessary in shaping this limb. You will +have to display it on horseback; and the Southern dragoons are so used +to the brittle-shins, that should they notice your well-turned calf, +they’d know at once it never belonged to a black.” + +“Golly!” said Caesar, with a chuckle, that exhibited a mouth open from +ear to ear, “Massa Harry breeches fit.” + +“Anything but your leg,” said the peddler, coolly pursuing the toilet +of Henry. “Slip on the coat, captain, over all. Upon my word, you’d +pass well at a pinkster frolic; and here, Caesar, place this powdered +wig over your curls, and be careful and look out of the window, +whenever the door is open, and on no account speak, or you will betray +all.” + +“I s’pose Harvey t’ink a colored man ain’t got a tongue like oder +folk,” grumbled the black, as he took the station assigned to him. + +Everything now was arranged for action, and the peddler very +deliberately went over the whole of his injunctions to the two actors +in the scene. The captain he conjured to dispense with his erect +military carriage, and for a season to adopt the humble paces of his +father’s negro; and Caesar he enjoined to silence and disguise, so long +as he could possibly maintain them. Thus prepared, he opened the door, +and called aloud to the sentinel, who had retired to the farthest end +of the passage, in order to avoid receiving any of that spiritual +comfort, which he felt was the sole property of another. + +“Let the woman of the house be called,” said Harvey, in the solemn key +of his assumed character; “and let her come alone. The prisoner is in a +happy train of meditation, and must not be led from his devotions.” + +Caesar sank his face between his hands; and when the soldier looked +into the apartment, he thought he saw his charge in deep abstraction. +Casting a glance of huge contempt at the divine, he called aloud for +the good woman of the house. She hastened at the summons, with earnest +zeal, entertaining a secret hope that she was to be admitted to the +gossip of a death-bed repentance. + +“Sister,” said the minister, in the authoritative tones of a master, +“have you in the house `The Christian Criminal’s last Moments, or +Thoughts on Eternity, for them who die a violent Death’?” + +“I never heard of the book!” said the matron in astonishment. + +“’Tis not unlikely; there are many books you have never heard of: it is +impossible for this poor penitent to pass in peace, without the +consolations of that volume. One hour’s reading in it is worth an age +of man’s preaching.” + +“Bless me, what a treasure to possess! When was it put out?” + +“It was first put out at Geneva in the Greek language, and then +translated at Boston. It is a book, woman, that should be in the hands +of every Christian, especially such as die upon the gallows. Have a +horse prepared instantly for this black, who shall accompany me to my +brother—, and I will send down the volume yet in season. Brother, +compose thy mind; you are now in the narrow path to glory.” + +Caesar wriggled a little in his chair, but he had sufficient +recollection to conceal his face with hands that were, in their turn, +concealed by gloves. The landlady departed, to comply with this very +reasonable request, and the group of conspirators were again left to +themselves. + +“This is well,” said the peddler; “but the difficult task is to deceive +the officer who commands the guard—he is lieutenant to Lawton, and has +learned some of the captain’s own cunning in these things. Remember, +Captain Wharton,” continued he with an air of pride, “that now is the +moment when everything depends on our coolness.” + +“My fate can be made but little worse than it is at present, my worthy +fellow,” said Henry; “but for your sake I will do all that in me lies.” + +“And wherein can I be more forlorn and persecuted than I now am?” asked +the peddler, with that wild incoherence which often crossed his manner. +“But I have promised _one_ to save you, and to him I have never yet +broken my word.” + +“And who is he?” said Henry, with awakened interest. + +“No one.” + +The man soon returned, and announced that the horses were at the door. +Harvey gave the captain a glance, and led the way down the stairs, +first desiring the woman to leave the prisoner to himself, in order +that he might digest the wholesome mental food that he had so lately +received. + +A rumor of the odd character of the priest had spread from the sentinel +at the door to his comrades; so that when Harvey and Wharton reached +the open space before the building, they found a dozen idle dragoons +loitering about with the waggish intention of quizzing the fanatic, and +employed in affected admiration of the steeds. + +“A fine horse!” said the leader in this plan of mischief; “but a little +low in flesh. I suppose from hard labor in your calling.” + +“My calling may be laborsome to both myself and this faithful beast, +but then a day of settling is at hand, that will reward me for all my +outgoings and incomings,” said Birch, putting his foot in the stirrup, +and preparing to mount. + +“You work for pay, then, as we fight for’t?” cried another of the +party. + +“Even so—is not the laborer worthy of his hire?” + +“Come, suppose you give us a little preaching; we have a leisure moment +just now, and there’s no telling how much good you might do a set of +reprobates like us, in a few words. Here, mount this horseblock, and +take your text where you please.” + +The men now gathered in eager delight around the peddler, who, glancing +his eye expressively towards the captain, who had been suffered to +mount, replied,— + +“Doubtless, for such is my duty. But, Caesar, you can ride up the road +and deliver the note—the unhappy prisoner will be wanting the book, for +his hours are numbered.” + +“Aye, aye, go along, Caesar, and get the book,” shouted half a dozen +voices, all crowding eagerly around the ideal priest, in anticipation +of a frolic. + +The peddler inwardly dreaded, that, in their unceremonious handling of +himself and garments, his hat and wig might be displaced, when +detection would be certain; he was therefore fain to comply with their +request. Ascending the horseblock, after hemming once or twice, and +casting several glances at the captain, who continued immovable, he +commenced as follows:— + +“I shall call your attention, my brethren, to that portion of Scripture +which you will find in the second book of Samuel, and which is written +in the following words:—‘_And the king lamented over Abner, and said. +Died Abner as a fool dieth? Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet put +into fetters: as a man falleth before wicked men, so fellest thou. And +all the people wept again over him_.’ Caesar, ride forward, I say, and +obtain the book as directed; thy master is groaning in spirit even now +for the want of it.” + +“An excellent text!” cried the dragoons. “Go on—go on—let the snowball +stay; he wants to be edified as well as another.” + +“What are you at there, scoundrels?” cried Lieutenant Mason, as he came +in sight from a walk he had taken to sneer at the evening parade of the +regiment of militia. “Away with every man of you to your quarters, and +let me find that each horse is cleaned and littered, when I come +round.” The sound of the officer’s voice operated like a charm, and no +priest could desire a more silent congregation, although he might +possibly have wished for one that was more numerous. Mason had not done +speaking, when it was reduced to the image of Caesar only. The peddler +took that opportunity to mount, but he had to preserve the gravity of +his movements, for the remark of the troopers upon the condition of +their beasts was but too just, and a dozen dragoon horses stood saddled +and bridled at hand, ready to receive their riders at a moment’s +warning. + +“Well, have you bitted the poor fellow within,” said Mason, “that he +can take his last ride under the curb of divinity, old gentleman?” + +“There is evil in thy conversation, profane man,” cried the priest, +raising his hands and casting his eyes upwards in holy horror; “so I +will depart from thee unhurt, as Daniel was liberated from the lions’ +den.” + +“Off with you, for a hypocritical, psalm-singing, canting rogue in +disguise,” said Mason scornfully. “By the life of Washington! it +worries an honest fellow to see such voracious beasts of prey ravaging +a country for which he sheds his blood. If I had you on a Virginia +plantation for a quarter of an hour, I’d teach you to worm the tobacco +with the turkeys.” + +“I leave you, and shake the dust off my shoes, that no remnant of this +wicked hole may tarnish the vestments of the godly.” + +“Start, or I will shake the dust from your jacket, designing knave! A +fellow to be preaching to my men! There’s Hollister put the devil in +them by his exhorting; the rascals were getting too conscientious to +strike a blow that would raze the skin. But hold! Whither do you +travel, Master Blackey, in such godly company?” + +“He goes,” said the minister, hastily speaking for his companion, “to +return with a book of much condolence and virtue to the sinful youth +above, whose soul will speedily become white, even as his outwards are +black and unseemly. Would you deprive a dying man of the consolation of +religion?” + +“No, no, poor fellow, his fate is bad enough; a famous good breakfast +his prim body of an aunt gave us. But harkee, Mr. Revelation, if the +youth must die _secundum arlem_, let it be under a gentleman’s +directions, and my advice is, that you never trust that skeleton of +yours among us again, or I will take the skin off and leave you naked.” + +“Out upon thee for a reviler and scoffer of goodness!” said Birch, +moving slowly, and with a due observance of clerical dignity, down the +road, followed by the imaginary Caesar. “But I leave thee, and that +behind me that will prove thy condemnation, and take from thee a hearty +and joyful deliverance.” + +“Damn him,” muttered the trooper. “The fellow rides like a stake, and +his legs stick out like the cocks of his hat. I wish I had him below +these hills, where the law is not over-particular, I’d——” + +“Corporal of the guard!—corporal of the guard!” shouted the sentinel in +the passage to the chambers, “corporal of the guard!—corporal of the +guard!” + +The subaltern flew up the narrow stairway that led to the room of the +prisoner, and demanded the meaning of the outcry. + +The soldier was standing at the open door of the apartment, looking in +with a suspicious eye on the supposed British officer. On observing his +lieutenant, he fell back with habitual respect, and replied, with an +air of puzzled thought,— + +“I don’t know, sir; but just now the prisoner looked queer. Ever since +the preacher has left him, he don’t look as he used to do—but,” gazing +intently over the shoulder of his officer, “it must be him, too! There +is the same powdered head, and the darn in the coat, where he was hit +the day we had the last brush with the enemy.” + +“And then all this noise is occasioned by your doubting whether that +poor gentleman is your prisoner, or not, is it, sirrah? Who the devil +do you think it can be, else?” + +“I don’t know who else it can be,” returned the fellow, sullenly; “but +he has grown thicker and shorter, if it is he; and see for yourself, +sir, he shakes all over, like a man in an ague.” + +This was but too true. Caesar was an alarmed auditor of this short +conversation, and, from congratulating himself upon the dexterous +escape of his young master, his thoughts were very naturally beginning +to dwell upon the probable consequences to his own person. The pause +that succeeded the last remark of the sentinel, in no degree +contributed to the restoration of his faculties. Lieutenant Mason was +busied in examining with his own eyes the suspected person of the +black, and Caesar was aware of the fact, by stealing a look through a +passage under one of his arms, that he had left expressly for the +purpose of reconnoitering. Captain Lawton would have discovered the +fraud immediately, but Mason was by no means so quick-sighted as his +commander. He therefore turned rather contemptuously to the soldier, +and, speaking in an undertone, observed, + +“That anabaptist, methodistical, quaker, psalm-singing rascal has +frightened the boy, with his farrago about flames and brimstone. I’ll +step in and cheer him with a little rational conversation.” + +“I have heard of fear making a man white,” said the soldier, drawing +back, and staring as if his eyes would start from their sockets, “but +it has changed the royal captain to a black!” + +The truth was, that Caesar, unable to hear what Mason uttered in a low +voice, and having every fear aroused in him by what had already passed, +incautiously removed the wig a little from one of his ears, in order to +hear the better, without in the least remembering that its color might +prove fatal to his disguise. The sentinel had kept his eyes fastened on +his prisoner, and noticed the action. The attention of Mason was +instantly drawn to the same object; and, forgetting all delicacy for a +brother officer in distress, or, in short, forgetting everything but +the censure that might alight on his corps, the lieutenant sprang +forward and seized the terrified African by the throat; for no sooner +had Caesar heard his color named, than he knew his discovery was +certain; and at the first sound of Mason’s heavy boot on the floor, he +arose from his seat, and retreated precipitately to a corner of the +room. + +“Who are you?” cried Mason, dashing the head of the old man against the +angle of the wall at each interrogatory. “Who the devil are you, and +where is the Englishman? Speak, thou thundercloud! Answer me, you +jackdaw, or I’ll hang you on the gallows of the spy!” + +Caesar continued firm. Neither the threats nor the blows could extract +any reply, until the lieutenant, by a very natural transition in the +attack, sent his heavy boot forward in a direction that brought it in +direct contact with the most sensitive part of the negro—his shin. The +most obdurate heart could not have exacted further patience, and Caesar +instantly gave in. The first words he spoke were— + +“Golly! massa, you t’ink I got no feelin’?” + +“By heavens!” shouted the lieutenant, “it is the negro himself! +Scoundrel! where is your master, and who was the priest?” While +speaking, he made a movement as if about to renew the attack; but +Caesar cried aloud for mercy, promising to tell all that he knew. + +“Who was the priest?” repeated the dragoon, drawing back his formidable +leg, and holding it in threatening suspense. “Harvey, Harvey!” cried +Caesar, dancing from one leg to the other, as he thought each member in +turn might be assailed. + +“Harvey who, you black villain?” cried the impatient lieutenant, as he +executed a full measure of vengeance by letting his leg fly. + +“Birch!” shrieked Caesar, falling on his knees, the tears rolling in +large drops over his shining face. + +“Harvey Birch!” echoed the trooper, hurling the black from him, and +rushing from the room. “To arms! to arms! Fifty guineas for the life of +the peddler spy—give no quarter to either. Mount, mount! to arms! to +horse!” + +During the uproar occasioned by the assembling of the dragoons, who all +rushed tumultuously to their horses, Caesar rose from the floor, where +he had been thrown by Mason, and began to examine into his injuries. +Happily for himself, he had alighted on his head, and consequently +sustained no material damage. + + [14] By “Eastern” is meant the states of New England, which, being + originally settled by Puritans, still retain many distinct shades of + character. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Away went Gilpin, neck or nought, +Away went hat and wig; +He little dreamt, when he set out, +Of running such a rig. + + +—COWPER. + + +The road which it was necessary for the peddler and the English captain +to travel, in order to reach the shelter of the hills, lay, for a half +mile, in full view from the door of the building that had so recently +been the prison of the latter; running for the whole distance over the +rich plain, that spreads to the very foot of the mountains, which here +rise in a nearly perpendicular ascent from their bases; it then turned +short to the right, and was obliged to follow the windings of nature, +as it won its way into the bosom of the Highlands. + +To preserve the supposed difference in their stations, Harvey rode a +short distance ahead of his companion, and maintained the sober, +dignified pace, that was suited to his assumed character. On their +right, the regiment of foot, that we have already mentioned, lay, in +tents; and the sentinels who guarded their encampment were to be seen +moving with measured tread under the hills themselves. + +The first impulse of Henry was, certainly, to urge the beast he rode to +his greatest speed at once, and by a coup de main not only accomplish +his escape, but relieve himself from the torturing suspense of his +situation. But the forward movement that the youth made for this +purpose was instantly checked by the peddler. + +“Hold up!” he cried, dexterously reining his own horse across the path +of the other. “Would you ruin us both? Fall into the place of a black, +following his master. Did you not see their blooded chargers, all +saddled and bridled, standing in the sun before the house? How long do +you think that miserable Dutch horse you are on would hold his speed, +if pursued by the Virginians? Every foot that we can gain, without +giving the alarm, counts a day in our lives. Ride steadily after me, +and on no account look back. They are as subtle as foxes, aye, and as +ravenous for blood as wolves!” + +Henry reluctantly restrained his impatience, and followed the direction +of the peddler. His imagination, however, continually alarmed him with +the fancied sounds of pursuit, though Birch, who occasionally looked +back under the pretense of addressing his companion, assured him that +all continued quiet and peaceful. + +“But,” said Henry, “it will not be possible for Caesar to remain long +undiscovered. Had we not better put our horses to the gallop, and by +the time they can reflect on the cause of our flight, we can reach the +corner of the woods?” + +“Ah! you little know them, Captain Wharton,” returned the peddler. +“There is a sergeant at this moment looking after us, as if he thought +all was not right; the keen-eyed fellow watches me like a tiger lying +in wait for his leap. When I stood on the horseblock, he half suspected +that something was wrong. Nay, check your beast—we must let the animals +walk a little, for he is laying his hand on the pommel of his saddle. +If he mounts, we are gone. The foot-soldiers could reach us with their +muskets.” + +“What does he now?” asked Henry, reining his horse to a walk, but at +the same time pressing his heels into the animal’s sides, to be in +readiness for a spring. + +“He turns from his charger, and looks the other way, now trot on +gently—not so fast—not so fast. Observe the sentinel in the field, a +little ahead of us—he eyes us keenly.” + +“Never mind the footman,” said Henry, impatiently, “he can do nothing +but shoot us—whereas these dragoons may make me a captive again. +Surely, Harvey, there are horse moving down the road behind us. Do you +see nothing particular?” + +“Humph!” ejaculated the peddler. “There is something particular, +indeed, to be seen behind the thicket on our left. Turn your head a +little, and you may see and profit by it too.” + +Henry eagerly seized this permission to look aside, and the blood +curdled to his heart as he observed that they were passing a gallows, +which unquestionably had been erected for his own execution. He turned +his face from the sight, in undisguised horror. + +“There is a warning to be prudent,” said the peddler, in the +sententious manner that he often adopted. + +“It is a terrific sight, indeed!” cried Henry, for a moment veiling his +eyes with his hand, as if to drive a vision from before him. + +The peddler moved his body partly around, and spoke with energetic but +gloomy bitterness, “And yet, Captain Wharton, you see it where the +setting sun shines full upon you; the air you breathe is clear, and +fresh from the hills before you. Every step that you take leaves that +hated gallows behind; and every dark hollow, and every shapeless rock +in the mountains, offers you a hiding place from the vengeance of your +enemies. But I have seen the gibbet raised, when no place of refuge +offered. Twice have I been buried in dungeons, where, fettered and in +chains, I have passed nights in torture, looking forward to the +morning’s dawn that was to light me to a death of infamy. The sweat has +started from limbs that seemed already drained of their moisture; and +if I ventured to the hole that admitted air through grates of iron to +look out upon the smiles of nature, which God has bestowed for the +meanest of His creatures, the gibbet has glared before my eyes, like an +evil conscience harrowing the soul of a dying man. Four times have I +been in their power, besides this last; but—twice—did I think my hour +had come. It is hard to die at the best, Captain Wharton; but to spend +your last moments alone and unpitied, to know that none near you so +much as think of the fate that is to you the closing of all that is +earthly; to think that, in a few hours, you are to be led from the +gloom, which, as you dwell on what follows, becomes dear to you, to the +face of day, and there to meet all eyes fixed upon you, as if you were +a wild beast; and to lose sight of everything amidst the jeers and +scoffs of your fellow creatures—that, Captain Wharton, that indeed is +to die!” + +Henry listened in amazement, as his companion uttered this speech with +a vehemence altogether new to him; both seemed to have forgotten their +danger and their disguises. + +“What! were you ever so near death as that?” + +“Have I not been the hunted beast of these hills for three years past?” +resumed Harvey; “and once they even led me to the foot of the gallows +itself, and I escaped only by an alarm from the royal troops. Had they +been a quarter of an hour later, I must have died. There was I placed +in the midst of unfeeling men, and gaping women and children, as a +monster to be cursed. When I would pray to God, my ears were insulted +with the history of my crimes; and when, in all that multitude, I +looked around for a single face that showed me any pity, I could find +none—no, not even one; all cursed me as a wretch who would sell his +country for gold. The sun was brighter to my eyes than common—but it +was the last time I should see it. The fields were gay and pleasant, +and everything seemed as if this world was a kind of heaven. Oh, how +sweet life was to me at that moment! ’Twas a dreadful hour, Captain +Wharton, and such as you have never known. You have friends to feel for +you, but I had none but a father to mourn my loss, when he might hear +of it; but there was no pity, no consolation near, to soothe my +anguish. Everything seemed to have deserted me. I even thought that HE +had forgotten that I lived.” + +“What! did you feel that God Himself had forgotten you, Harvey?” + +“God never forsakes His servants,” returned Birch, with reverence, and +exhibiting naturally a devotion that hitherto he had only assumed. + +“And whom did you mean by HE?” + +The peddler raised himself in his saddle to the stiff and upright +posture that was suited to his outward appearance. The look of fire, +that for a short time glowed on his countenance, disappeared in the +solemn lines of unbending self-abasement, and, speaking as if +addressing a negro, he replied,— + +“In heaven there is no distinction of color, my brother, therefore you +have a precious charge within you, that you must hereafter render an +account of;” dropping his voice—“this is the last sentinel near the +road; look not back, as you value your life.” + +Henry remembered his situation, and instantly assumed the humble +demeanor of his adopted character. The unaccountable energy of the +peddler’s manner was soon forgotten in the sense of his own immediate +danger; and with the recollection of his critical situation, returned +all the uneasiness that he had momentarily forgotten. + +“What see you, Harvey?” he cried, observing the peddler to gaze towards +the building they had left, with ominous interest. “What see you at the +house?” + +“That which bodes no good to us,” returned the pretended priest. “Throw +aside the mask and wig; you will need all your senses without much +delay; throw them in the road. There are none before us that I dread, +but there are those behind who will give us a fearful race!” + +“Nay, then,” cried the captain, casting the implements of his disguise +into the highway, “let us improve our time to the utmost. We want a +full quarter to the turn; why not push for it, at once?” + +“Be cool; they are in alarm, but they will not mount without an +officer, unless they see us fly—now he comes, he moves to the stables; +trots briskly; a dozen are in their saddles, but the officer stops to +tighten his girths; they hope to steal a march upon us; he is mounted; +now ride, Captain Wharton, for your life, and keep at my heels. If you +quit me, you will be lost!” + +A second request was unnecessary. The instant that Harvey put his horse +to his speed Captain Wharton was at his heels, urging the miserable +animal he rode to the utmost. Birch had selected his own beast; and +although vastly inferior to the high-fed and blooded chargers of the +dragoons, still it was much superior to the little pony that had been +thought good enough to carry Caesar Thompson on an errand. A very few +jumps convinced the captain that his companion was fast leaving him, +and a fearful glance thrown behind informed the fugitive that his +enemies were as speedily approaching. With that abandonment that makes +misery doubly grievous, when it is to be supported alone, Henry cried +aloud to the peddler not to desert him. Harvey instantly drew up, and +suffered his companion to run alongside of his own horse. The cocked +hat and wig of the peddler fell from his head the moment that his steed +began to move briskly, and this development of their disguise, as it +might be termed, was witnessed by the dragoons, who announced their +observation by a boisterous shout, that seemed to be uttered in the +very ears of the fugitives; so loud was the cry, and so short the +distance between them. + +“Had we not better leave our horses,” said Henry, “and make for the +hills across the fields, on our left? The fence will stop our +pursuers.” + +“That way lies the gallows,” returned the peddler. “These fellows go +three feet to our two, and would mind the fences no more than we do +these ruts; but it is a short quarter to the turn, and there are two +roads behind the wood. They may stand to choose until they can take the +track, and we shall gain a little upon them there.” + +“But this miserable horse is blown already,” cried Henry, urging his +beast with the end of his bridle, at the same time that Harvey aided +his efforts by applying the lash of a heavy riding whip he carried. “He +will never stand it for half a mile farther.” + +“A quarter will do; a quarter will do,” said the peddler, “a single +quarter will save us, if you follow my directions.” + +Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of his companion, +Henry continued silently urging his horse forward. A few moments +brought them to the desired turn, and as they doubled round a point of +low underbrush, the fugitives caught a glimpse of their pursuers +scattered along the highway. Mason and the sergeant, being better +mounted than the rest of the party, were much nearer to their heels +than even the peddler thought could be possible. + +At the foot of the hills, and for some distance up the dark valley that +wound among the mountains, a thick underwood of saplings had been +suffered to shoot up, where the heavier growth was felled for the sake +of the fuel. At the sight of this cover, Henry again urged the peddler +to dismount, and to plunge into the woods; but his request was promptly +refused. The two roads, before mentioned, met at very sharp angles at a +short distance from the turn, and both were circuitous, so that but +little of either could be seen at a time. The peddler took the one +which led to the left, but held it only a moment, for, on reaching a +partial opening in the thicket, he darted across into the right-hand +path and led the way up a steep ascent, which lay directly before them. +This maneuver saved them. On reaching the fork, the dragoons followed +the track and passed the spot where the fugitives had crossed to the +other road, before they missed the marks of the footsteps. Their loud +cries were heard by Henry and the peddler, as their wearied and +breathless animals toiled up the hill, ordering their comrades in the +rear to ride in the right direction. The captain again proposed to +leave their horses and dash into the thicket. + +“Not yet, not yet,” said Birch, in a low voice. “The road falls from +the top of this hill as steep as it rises; first let us gain the top.” +While speaking, they reached the desired summit, and both threw +themselves from their horses, Henry plunging into the thick underwood, +which covered the side of the mountain for some distance above them. +Harvey stopped to give each of their beasts a few severe blows of his +whip, that drove them headlong down the path on the other side of the +eminence, and then followed his example. + +The peddler entered the thicket with a little caution, and avoided, as +much as possible, rustling or breaking the branches in his way. There +was but time only to shelter his person from view when a dragoon led up +the ascent, and on reaching the height, he cried aloud,— + +“I saw one of their horses turning the hill this minute.” + +“Drive on, spur forward, my lads,” shouted Mason; “give the Englishman +quarter, but cut down the peddler, and make an end of him.” + +Henry felt his companion grip his arm hard, as he listened in a great +tremor to this cry, which was followed by the passage of a dozen +horsemen, with a vigor and speed that showed too plainly how little +security their overtired steeds could have afforded them. + +“Now,” said the peddler, rising from the cover to reconnoiter, and +standing for a moment in suspense, “all that we gain is clear gain; +for, as we go up, they go down. Let us be stirring.” + +“But will they not follow us, and surround this mountain?” said Henry, +rising, and imitating the labored but rapid progress of his companion. +“Remember, they have foot as well as horse, and, at any rate, we shall +starve in the hills.” + +“Fear nothing, Captain Wharton,” returned the peddler, with confidence; +“this is not the mountain that I would be on, but necessity has made me +a dexterous pilot among these hills. I will lead you where no man will +dare to follow. See, the sun is already setting behind the tops of the +western mountains, and it will be two hours to the rising of the moon. +Who, think you, will follow us far, on a November night, among these +rocks and precipices?” + +“Listen!” exclaimed Henry; “the dragoons are shouting to each other; +they miss us already.” + +“Come to the point of this rock, and you may see them,” said Harvey, +composedly setting himself down to rest. “Nay, they can see us—observe, +they are pointing up with their fingers. There! one has fired his +pistol, but the distance is too great even for a musket.” + +“They will pursue us,” cried the impatient Henry, “let us be moving.” + +“They will not think of such a thing,” returned the peddler, picking +the checkerberries that grew on the thin soil where he sat, and very +deliberately chewing them, leaves and all, to refresh his mouth. “What +progress could they make here, in their heavy boots and spurs, and long +swords? No, no—they may go back and turn out the foot, but the horse +pass through these defiles, when they can keep the saddle, with fear +and trembling. Come, follow me, Captain Wharton; we have a troublesome +march before us, but I will bring you where none will think of +venturing this night.” + +So saying, they both arose, and were soon hid from view amongst the +rocks and caverns of the mountain. + +The conjecture of the peddler was true. Mason and his men dashed down +the hill, in pursuit, as they supposed, of their victims, but, on +reaching the bottom lands, they found only the deserted horses of the +fugitives. Some little time was spent in examining the woods near them, +and in endeavoring to take the trail on such ground as might enable the +horse to pursue, when one of the party descried the peddler and Henry +seated on the rock already mentioned. + +“He’s off,” muttered Mason, eying Harvey, with fury; “he’s off, and we +are disgraced. By heavens, Washington will not trust us with the +keeping of a suspected Tory, if we let the rascal trifle in this manner +with the corps; and there sits the Englishman, too, looking down upon +us with a smile of benevolence! I fancy that I can see it. Well, well, +my lad, you are comfortably seated, I will confess, and that is +something better than dancing upon nothing; but you are not to the west +of the Harlem River yet, and I’ll try your wind before you tell Sir +Henry what you have seen.” + +“Shall I fire and frighten the peddler?” asked one of the men, drawing +his pistol from the holster. + +“Aye, startle the birds from their perch—let us see how they can use +the wing.” The man fired the pistol, and Mason continued—“’Fore George, +I believe the scoundrels laugh at us. But homeward, or we shall have +them rolling stones upon our heads, and the royal gazettes teeming with +an account of a rebel regiment routed by two loyalists. They have told +bigger lies than that, before now.” + +The dragoons moved sullenly after their officer, who rode towards their +quarters, musing on the course it behooved him to pursue in the present +dilemma. It was twilight when Mason’s party reached the dwelling, +before the door of which were collected a great number of the officers +and men, busily employed in giving and listening to the most +exaggerated accounts of the escape of the spy. The mortified dragoons +gave their ungrateful tidings with the sullen air of disappointed men; +and most of the officers gathered round Mason, to consult of the steps +that ought to be taken. Miss Peyton and Frances were breathless and +unobserved listeners to all that passed between them, from the window +of the chamber immediately above their heads. + +“Something must be done, and that speedily,” observed the commanding +officer of the regiment, which lay encamped before the house. “This +English officer is doubtless an instrument in the great blow aimed at +us by the enemy lately; besides, our honor is involved in his escape.” + +“Let us beat the woods!” cried several at once. “By morning we shall +have them both again.” + +“Softly, softly, gentlemen,” returned the colonel. “No man can travel +these hills after dark, unless used to the passes. Nothing but horse +can do service in this business, and I presume Lieutenant Mason +hesitates to move without the orders of his major.” + +“I certainly dare not,” replied the subaltern, gravely shaking his +head, “unless you will take the responsibility of an order; but Major +Dunwoodie will be back again in two hours, and we can carry the tidings +through the hills before daylight; so that by spreading patrols across, +from one river to the other, and offering a reward to the country +people, their escape will yet be impossible, unless they can join the +party that is said to be out on the Hudson.” + +“A very plausible plan,” cried the colonel, “and one that must succeed; +but let a messenger be dispatched to Dunwoodie, or he may continue at +the ferry until it proves too late; though doubtless the runaways will +lie in the mountains to-night.” + +To this suggestion Mason acquiesced, and a courier was sent to the +major with the important intelligence of the escape of Henry, and an +intimation of the necessity of his presence to conduct the pursuit. +After this arrangement, the officers separated. + +When Miss Peyton and her niece first learned the escape of Captain +Wharton, it was with difficulty they could credit their senses. They +both relied so implicitly on the success of Dunwoodie’s exertions, that +they thought the act, on the part of their relative, extremely +imprudent; but it was now too late to mend it. While listening to the +conversation of the officers, both were struck with the increased +danger of Henry’s situation, if recaptured, and they trembled to think +of the great exertions that would be made to accomplish this object. +Miss Peyton consoled herself, and endeavored to cheer her niece, with +the probability that the fugitives would pursue their course with +unremitting diligence, so that they might reach the neutral ground +before the horse would carry down the tidings of their flight. The +absence of Dunwoodie seemed to her all-important, and the artless lady +was anxiously devising some project that might detain her kinsman, and +thus give her nephew the longest possible time. But very different were +the reflections of Frances. She could no longer doubt that the figure +she had seen on the hill was Birch, and she felt certain that, instead +of flying to the friendly forces below, her brother would be taken to +the mysterious hut to pass the night. + +Frances and her aunt held a long and animated discussion by themselves, +when the good spinster reluctantly yielded to the representation of her +niece, and folding her in her arms, she kissed her cold cheek, and, +fervently blessing her, allowed her to depart on an errand of fraternal +love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +And here, forlorn and lost, I tread, +With fainting steps, and slow; +Where wilds, immeasurably spread, +Seem length’ning as I go. + + +—GOLDSMITH. + + +The night had set in dark and chilling, as Frances Wharton, with a +beating heart but light step, moved through the little garden that lay +behind the farmhouse which had been her brother’s prison, and took her +way to the foot of the mountain, where she had seen the figure of him +she supposed to be the peddler. It was still early, but the darkness +and the dreary nature of a November evening would, at any other moment, +or with less inducement to exertion, have driven her back in terror to +the circle she had left. Without pausing to reflect, however, she flew +over the ground with a rapidity that seemed to bid defiance to all +impediments, nor stopped even to breathe, until she had gone half the +distance to the rock that she had marked as the spot where Birch made +his appearance on that very morning. + +The good treatment of their women is the surest evidence that a people +can give of their civilization; and there is no nation which has more +to boast of, in this respect, than the Americans. Frances felt but +little apprehension from the orderly and quiet troops who were taking +their evening’s repast on the side of the highway, opposite to the +field through which she was flying. They were her countrymen, and she +knew that her sex would be respected by the Eastern militia, who +composed this body; but in the volatile and reckless character of the +Southern horse she had less confidence. Outrages of any description +were seldom committed by the really American soldiery; but she +recoiled, with exquisite delicacy, from even the appearance of +humiliation. When, therefore, she heard the footsteps of a horse moving +slowly up the road, she shrank, timidly, into a little thicket of wood +which grew around the spring that bubbled from the side of a hillock +near her. The vidette, for such it proved to be, passed her without +noticing her form, which was so enveloped as to be as little +conspicuous as possible, humming a low air to himself, and probably +thinking of some other fair that he had left on the banks of the +Potomac. + +Frances listened anxiously to the retreating footsteps of his horse, +and, as they died upon her ear, she ventured from her place of secrecy, +and advanced a short distance into the field, where, startled at the +gloom, and appalled with the dreariness of the prospect, she paused to +reflect on what she had undertaken. Throwing back the hood of her +cardinal, she sought the support of a tree, and gazed towards the +summit of the mountain that was to be the goal of her enterprise. It +rose from the plain like a huge pyramid, giving nothing to the eye but +its outlines. The pinnacle could be faintly discerned in front of a +lighter background of clouds, between which a few glimmering stars +occasionally twinkled in momentary brightness, and then gradually +became obscured by the passing vapor that was moving before the wind, +at a vast distance below the clouds themselves. Should she return, +Henry and the peddler would most probably pass the night in fancied +security upon that very hill towards which she was straining her eyes, +in the vain hope of observing some light that might encourage her to +proceed. The deliberate, and what to her seemed cold-blooded, project +of the officer for the recapture of the fugitives, still rang in her +ears, and stimulated her to go on; but the solitude into which she must +venture, the time, the actual danger of the ascent, and the uncertainty +of her finding the hut, or what was still more disheartening, the +chance that it might be occupied by unknown tenants, and those of the +worst description—urged her to retreat. + +The increasing darkness was each moment rendering objects less and less +distinct, and the clouds were gathering more gloomily in the rear of +the hill, until its form could no longer be discerned. Frances threw +back her rich curls with both hands on her temples, in order to possess +her senses in their utmost keenness; but the towering hill was entirely +lost to the eye. At length she discovered a faint and twinkling blaze +in the direction in which she thought the building stood, that, by its +reviving and receding luster, might be taken for the glimmering of a +fire. But the delusion vanished, as the horizon again cleared, and the +star of evening shone forth from a cloud, after struggling hard, as if +for existence. She now saw the mountain to the left of the place where +the planet was shining, and suddenly a streak of mellow light burst +upon the fantastic oaks that were thinly scattered over its summit, and +gradually moved down its side, until the whole pile became distinct +under the rays of the rising moon. Although it would have been +physically impossible for our heroine to advance without the aid of the +friendly light, which now gleamed on the long line of level land before +her, yet she was not encouraged to proceed. If she could see the goal +of her wishes, she could also perceive the difficulties that must +attend her reaching it. + +While deliberating in distressing incertitude, now shrinking with the +timidity of her sex and years from the enterprise, and now resolving to +rescue her brother at every hazard, Frances turned her looks towards +the east, in earnest gaze at the clouds which constantly threatened to +involve her again in comparative darkness. Had an adder stung her, she +could not have sprung with greater celerity than she recoiled from the +object against which she was leaning, and which she for the first time +noticed. The two upright posts, with a crossbeam on their tops, and a +rude platform beneath, told but too plainly the nature of the +structure; even the cord was suspended from an iron staple, and was +swinging to and fro, in the night air. Frances hesitated no longer, but +rather flew than ran across the meadow, and was soon at the base of the +rock, where she hoped to find something like a path to the summit of +the mountain. Here she was compelled to pause for breath, and she +improved the leisure by surveying the ground about her. The ascent was +quite abrupt, but she soon found a sheep path that wound among the +shelving rocks and through the trees, so as to render her labor much +less tiresome than it otherwise would have been. Throwing a fearful +glance behind, the determined girl commenced her journey upwards. +Young, active, and impelled by her generous motive, she moved up the +hill with elastic steps, and very soon emerged from the cover of the +woods, into an open space of more level ground, that had evidently been +cleared of its timber, for the purpose of cultivation. But either the +war or the sterility of the soil had compelled the adventurer to +abandon the advantages that he had obtained over the wilderness, and +already the bushes and briers were springing up afresh, as if the plow +had never traced furrows through the mold which nourished them. Frances +felt her spirits invigorated by these faint vestiges of the labor of +man, and she walked up the gentle acclivity with renewed hopes of +success. The path now diverged in so many different directions, that +she soon saw it would be useless to follow their windings, and +abandoning it, at the first turn, she labored forward towards what she +thought was the nearest point of the summit. The cleared ground was +soon past, and woods and rocks, clinging to the precipitous sides of +the mountain, again opposed themselves to her progress. Occasionally, +the path was to be seen running along the verge of the clearing, and +then striking off into the scattering patches of grass and herbage, but +in no instance could she trace it upward. Tufts of wool, hanging to the +briers, sufficiently denoted the origin of these tracks, and Frances +rightly conjectured that whoever descended the mountain, would avail +himself of their existence, to lighten the labor. Seating herself on a +stone, the wearied girl again paused to rest and to reflect; the clouds +were rising before the moon, and the whole scene at her feet lay +pictured in softest colors. + +The white tents of the militia were stretched in regular lines +immediately beneath her. The light was shining in the window of her +aunt, who, Frances easily fancied, was watching the mountain, racked +with all the anxiety she might be supposed to feel for her niece. +Lanterns were playing about in the stable yard, where she knew the +horses of the dragoons were kept, and believing them to be preparing +for their night march, she again sprang upon her feet, and renewed her +toil. + +Our heroine had to ascend more than a quarter of a mile farther, +although she had already conquered two thirds of the height of the +mountain. But she was now without a path or any guide to direct her in +her course. Fortunately, the hill was conical, like most of the +mountains in that range, and, by advancing upwards, she was certain of +at length reaching the desired hut, which hung, as it were, on the very +pinnacle. Nearly an hour did she struggle with the numerous +difficulties that she was obliged to overcome, when, having been +repeatedly exhausted with her efforts, and, in several instances, in +great danger from falls, she succeeded in gaining the small piece of +tableland on the summit. + +Faint with her exertions, which had been unusually severe for so slight +a frame, she sank on a rock, to recover her strength and fortitude for +the approaching interview. A few moments sufficed for this purpose, +when she proceeded in quest of the hut. All of the neighboring hills +were distinctly visible by the aid of the moon, and Frances was able, +where she stood, to trace the route of the highway, from the plains +into the mountains. By following this line with her eyes, she soon +discovered the point whence she had seen the mysterious dwelling, and +directly opposite to that point she well knew the hut must stand. + +The chilling air sighed through the leafless branches of the gnarled +and crooked oaks, as with a step so light as hardly to rustle the dry +leaves on which she trod, Frances moved forward to that part of the +hill where she expected to find this secluded habitation; but nothing +could she discern that in the least resembled a dwelling of any sort. +In vain she examined every recess of the rocks, or inquisitively +explored every part of the summit that she thought could hold the +tenement of the peddler. No hut, nor any vestige of a human being could +she trace. The idea of her solitude struck on the terrified mind of the +affrighted girl, and approaching to the edge of a shelving rock, she +bent forward to gaze on the signs of life in the vale, when a ray of +keen light dazzled her eyes, and a warm ray diffused itself over her +whole frame. Recovering from her surprise, Frances looked on the ledge +beneath her, and at once perceived that she stood directly over the +object of her search. A hole through its roof afforded a passage to the +smoke, which, as it blew aside, showed her a clear and cheerful fire +crackling and snapping on a rude hearth of stone. The approach to the +front of the hut was by a winding path around the point of the rock on +which she stood, and by this, she advanced to its door. + +Three sides of this singular edifice, if such it could be called, were +composed of logs laid alternately on each other, to a little more than +the height of a man; and the fourth was formed by the rock against +which it leaned. The roof was made of the bark of trees, laid in long +strips from the rock to its eaves; the fissures between the logs had +been stuffed with clay, which in many places had fallen out, and dried +leaves were made use of as a substitute, to keep out the wind. A single +window of four panes of glass was in front, but a board carefully +closed it, in such a manner as to emit no light from the fire within. +After pausing some time to view this singularly constructed hiding +place, for such Frances well knew it to be, she applied her eye to a +crevice to examine the inside. There was no lamp or candle, but the +blazing fire of dry wood made the interior of the hut light enough to +read by. In one corner lay a bed of straw, with a pair of blankets +thrown carelessly over it, as if left where they had last been used. +Against the walls and rock were suspended, from pegs forced into the +crevices, various garments, and such as were apparently fitted for all +ages and conditions, and for either sex. British and American uniforms +hung peaceably by the side of each other; and on the peg that supported +a gown of striped calico, such as was the usual country wear, was also +depending a well-powdered wig: in short, the attire was numerous and as +various as if a whole parish were to be equipped from this one +wardrobe. + +In the angle against the rock, and opposite to the fire which was +burning in the other corner, was an open cupboard, that held a plate or +two, a mug, and the remains of some broken meat. Before the fire was a +table, with one of its legs fractured, and made of rough boards; these, +with a single stool, composed the furniture, if we except a few +articles of cooking. A book, that by its size and shape, appeared to be +a Bible, was lying on the table, unopened. But it was the occupant of +the hut in whom Frances was chiefly interested. This was a man, sitting +on the stool, with his head leaning on his hand, in such a manner as to +conceal his features, and deeply occupied in examining some open +papers. On the table lay a pair of curiously and richly mounted +horseman’s pistols, and the handle of a sheathed rapier, of exquisite +workmanship, protruded from between the legs of the gentleman, one of +whose hands carelessly rested on its guard. The tall stature of this +unexpected tenant of the hut, and his form, much more athletic than +that of either Harvey or her brother, told Frances, without the aid of +his dress, that it was neither of those she sought. A close surtout was +buttoned high in the throat of the stranger, and parting at his knees, +showed breeches of buff, with military boots and spurs. His hair was +dressed so as to expose the whole face; and, after the fashion of that +day, it was profusely powdered. A round hat was laid on the stones that +formed a paved floor to the hut, as if to make room for a large map, +which, among the other papers, occupied the table. + +This was an unexpected event to our adventurer. She had been so +confident that the figure twice seen was the peddler, that on learning +his agency in her brother’s escape, she did not in the least doubt of +finding them both in the place, which, she now discovered, was occupied +by another and a stranger. She stood, earnestly looking through the +crevice, hesitating whether to retire, or to wait with the expectation +of yet meeting Henry, as the stranger moved his hand from before his +eyes, and raised his face, apparently in deep musing, when Frances +instantly recognized the benevolent and strongly marked, but composed +features of Harper. + +All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disposition, all that he +had himself promised her brother, and all the confidence that had been +created by his dignified and paternal manner, rushed across the mind of +Frances, who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his feet, +clasped his knees with her arms, as she cried,— + +“Save him—save him—save my brother; remember your promise, and save +him!” + +Harper had risen as the door opened, and there was a slight movement of +one hand towards his pistols; but it was cool and instantly checked. He +raised the hood of the cardinal, which had fallen over her features, +and exclaimed, with some uneasiness,— + +“Miss Wharton! But you cannot be alone?” + +“There is none here but my God and you; and by His sacred name, I +conjure you to remember your promise, and save my brother!” + +Harper gently raised her from her knees, and placed her on the stool, +begging her at the same time to be composed, and to acquaint him with +the nature of her errand. This Frances instantly did, ingenuously +admitting him to a knowledge of all her views in visiting that lone +spot at such an hour, and by herself. + +It was at all times difficult to probe the thoughts of one who held his +passions in such disciplined subjection as Harper, but still there was +a lighting of his thoughtful eye, and a slight unbending of his +muscles, as the hurried and anxious girl proceeded in her narrative. +His interest, as she dwelt upon the manner of Henry’s escape, and the +flight to the woods, was deep and manifest, and he listened to the +remainder of her tale with a marked expression of benevolent +indulgence. Her apprehensions, that her brother might still be too late +through the mountains, seemed to have much weight with him, for, as she +concluded, he walked a turn or two across the hut, in silent musing. + +Frances hesitated, and unconsciously played with the handle of one of +the pistols, and the paleness that her fears had spread over her fine +features began to give place to a rich tint, as, after a short pause, +she added,— + +“We can depend much on the friendship of Major Dunwoodie, but his sense +of honor is so pure, that—that—notwithstanding his—his—feelings—his +desire to serve us—he will conceive it to be his duty to apprehend my +brother again. Besides, he thinks there will be no danger in so doing, +as he relies greatly on your interference.” + +“On mine,” said Harper, raising his eyes in surprise. + +“Yes, on yours. When we told him of your kind language, he at once +assured us all that you had the power, and, if you had promised, would +have the inclination, to procure Henry’s pardon.” + +“Said he more?” asked Harper, who appeared slightly uneasy. + +“Nothing but reiterated assurances of Henry’s safety; even now he is in +quest of you.” + +“Miss Wharton, that I bear no mean part, in the unhappy struggle +between England and America, it might now be useless to deny. You owe +your brother’s escape, this night, to my knowledge of his innocence, +and the remembrance of my word. Major Dunwoodie is mistaken when he +says that I might openly have procured his pardon. I now, indeed, can +control his fate, and I pledge to you a word which has some influence +with Washington, that means shall be taken to prevent his recapture. +But from you, also, I exact a promise, that this interview, and all +that has passed between us, remain confined to your own bosom, until +you have my permission to speak upon the subject.” + +Frances gave the desired assurance, and he continued,— + +“The peddler and your brother will soon be here, but I must not be seen +by the royal officer, or the life of Birch might be the forfeiture.” + +“Never!” cried Frances, ardently. “Henry could never be so base as to +betray the man who saved him.” + +“It is no childish game that we are now playing, Miss Wharton. Men’s +lives and fortunes hang upon slender threads, and nothing must be left +to accident that can be guarded against. Did Sir Henry Clinton know +that the peddler had communion with me, and under such circumstances, +the life of the miserable man would be taken instantly; therefore, as +you value human blood, or remember the rescue of your brother, be +prudent, and be silent. Communicate what you know to them both, and +urge them to instant departure. If they can reach the last pickets of +our army before morning, it shall be my care that there are none to +intercept them. There is better work for Major Dunwoodie than to be +exposing the life of his friend.” + +While Harper was speaking, he carefully rolled up the map he had been +studying, and placed it, together with sundry papers that were also +open, into his pocket. He was still occupied in this manner, when the +voice of the peddler, talking in unusually loud tones, was heard +directly over their heads. + +“Stand farther this way, Captain Wharton, and you can see the tents in +the moonshine. But let them mount and ride; I have a nest here, that +will hold us both, and we will go in at our leisure.” + +“And where is this nest? I confess that I have eaten but little the +last two days, and I crave some of the cheer you mention.” + +“Hem!” said the peddler, exerting his voice still more. “Hem—this fog +has given me a cold; but move slow—and be careful not to slip, or you +may land on the bayonet of the sentinel on the flats; ’tis a steep hill +to rise, but one can go down it with ease.” + +Harper pressed his finger on his lip, to remind Frances of her promise, +and, taking his pistols and hat, so that no vestige of his visit +remained, he retired deliberately to a far corner of the hut, where, +lifting several articles of dress, he entered a recess in the rock, +and, letting them fall again, was hid from view. Frances noticed, by +the strong firelight, as he entered, that it was a natural cavity, and +contained nothing but a few more articles of domestic use. + +The surprise of Henry and the peddler, on entering and finding Frances +in possession of the hut, may be easily imagined. Without waiting for +explanations or questions, the warm-hearted girl flew into the arms of +her brother, and gave a vent to her emotions in tears. But the peddler +seemed struck with very different feelings. His first look was at the +fire, which had been recently supplied with fuel; he then drew open a +small drawer of the table, and looked a little alarmed at finding it +empty. + +“Are you alone, Miss Fanny?” he asked, in a quick voice. “You did not +come here alone?” + +“As you see me, Mr. Birch,” said Frances, raising herself from her +brother’s arms, and turning an expressive glance towards the secret +cavern, that the quick eye of the peddler instantly understood. + +“But why and wherefore are you here?” exclaimed her astonished brother; +“and how knew you of this place at all?” + +Frances entered at once into a brief detail of what had occurred at the +house since their departure, and the motives which induced her to seek +them. + +“But,” said Birch, “why follow us here, when we were left on the +opposite hill?” + +Frances related the glimpse that she had caught of the hut and peddler, +in her passage through the Highlands, as well as her view of him on +that day, and her immediate conjecture that the fugitives would seek +the shelter of this habitation for the night. Birch examined her +features as, with open ingenuousness, she related the simple incidents +that had made her mistress of his secret; and, as she ended, he sprang +upon his feet, and, striking the window with the stick in his hand, +demolished it at a blow. + +“’Tis but little luxury or comfort that I know,” he said, “but even +that little cannot be enjoyed in safety! Miss Wharton,” he added, +advancing before Frances, and speaking with the bitter melancholy that +was common to him, “I am hunted through these hills like a beast of the +forest; but whenever, tired with my toils, I can reach this spot, poor +and dreary as it is, I can spend my solitary nights in safety. Will you +aid to make the life of a wretch still more miserable?” + +“Never!” cried Frances, with fervor; “your secret is safe with me.” + +“Major Dunwoodie”—said the peddler, slowly, turning an eye upon her +that read her soul. + +Frances lowered her head upon her bosom, for a moment, in shame; then, +elevating her fine and glowing face, she added, with enthusiasm,— + +“Never, never, Harvey, as God may hear my prayers!” + +The peddler seemed satisfied; for he drew back, and, watching his +opportunity, unseen by Henry, slipped behind the screen, and entered +the cavern. + +Frances and her brother, who thought his companion had passed through +the door, continued conversing on the latter’s situation for several +minutes, when the former urged the necessity of expedition on his part, +in order to precede Dunwoodie, from whose sense of duty they knew they +had no escape. The captain took out his pocketbook, and wrote a few +lines with his pencil; then folding the paper, he handed it to his +sister. + +“Frances,” he said, “you have this night proved yourself to be an +incomparable woman. As you love me, give that unopened to Dunwoodie, +and remember that two hours may save my life.” + +“I will—I will; but why delay? Why not fly, and improve these precious +moments?” + +“Your sister says well, Captain Wharton,” exclaimed Harvey, who had +reentered unseen; “we must go at once. Here is food to eat, as we +travel.” + +“But who is to see this fair creature in safety?” cried the captain. “I +can never desert my sister in such a place as this.” + +“Leave me! leave me!” said Frances. “I can descend as I came up. Do not +doubt me; you know not my courage nor my strength.” + +“I have not known you, dear girl, it is true; but now, as I learn your +value, can I quit you here? Never, never!” + +“Captain Wharton,” said Birch, throwing open the door, “you can trifle +with your own lives, if you have many to spare; I have but one, and +must nurse it. Do I go alone, or not?” + +“Go, go, dear Henry,” said Frances, embracing him; “go; remember our +father; remember Sarah.” She waited not for his answer, but gently +forced him through the door, and closed it with her own hands. + +For a short time there was a warm debate between Henry and the peddler; +but the latter finally prevailed, and the breathless girl heard the +successive plunges, as they went down the sides of the mountain at a +rapid rate. + +Immediately after the noise of their departure had ceased, Harper +reappeared. He took the arm of Frances in silence, and led her from the +hut. The way seemed familiar to him; for, ascending to the ledge above +them, he led his companion across the tableland tenderly, pointing out +the little difficulties in their route, and cautioning her against +injury. + +Frances felt, as she walked by the side of this extraordinary man, that +she was supported by one of no common stamp. The firmness of his step, +and the composure of his manner, seemed to indicate a mind settled and +resolved. By taking a route over the back of the hill, they descended +with great expedition, and but little danger. The distance it had taken +Frances an hour to conquer, was passed by Harper and his companion in +ten minutes, and they entered the open space already mentioned. He +struck into one of the sheep paths, and, crossing the clearing with +rapid steps, they came suddenly upon a horse, caparisoned for a rider +of no mean rank. The noble beast snorted and pawed the earth, as his +master approached and replaced the pistols in the holsters. + +Harper then turned, and, taking the hand of Frances, spoke as follows:— + +“You have this night saved your brother, Miss Wharton. It would not be +proper for me to explain why there are limits to my ability to serve +him; but if you can detain the horse for two hours, he is assuredly +safe. After what you have already done, I can believe you equal to any +duty. God has denied to me children, young lady; but if it had been His +blessed will that my marriage should not have been childless, such a +treasure as yourself would I have asked from His mercy. But you are my +child: all who dwell in this broad land are my children, and my care; +and take the blessing of one who hopes yet to meet you in happier +days.” + +As he spoke, with a solemnity that touched Frances to the heart, he +laid his hand impressively upon her head. The guileless girl turned her +face towards him, and the hood again falling back, exposed her lovely +features to the moonbeams. A tear was glistening on either cheek, and +her mild blue eyes were gazing upon him in reverence. Harper bent and +pressed a paternal kiss upon her forehead, and continued: “Any of these +sheep paths will take you to the plain; but here we must part—I have +much to do and far to ride; forget me in all but your prayers.” + +He then mounted his horse, and lifting his hat, rode towards the back +of the mountain, descending at the same time, and was soon hid by the +trees. Frances sprang forward with a lightened heart, and taking the +first path that led downwards, in a few minutes she reached the plain +in safety. While busied in stealing through the meadows towards the +house, the noise of horse approaching startled her, and she felt how +much more was to be apprehended from man, in some situations, than from +solitude. Hiding her form in the angle of a fence near the road, she +remained quiet for a moment, and watched their passage. A small party +of dragoons, whose dress was different from the Virginians, passed at a +brisk trot. They were followed by a gentleman, enveloped in a large +cloak, whom she at once knew to be Harper. Behind him rode a black in +livery, and two youths in uniform brought up the rear. Instead of +taking the road that led by the encampment, they turned short to the +left and entered the hills. + +Wondering who this unknown but powerful friend of her brother could be, +Frances glided across the fields, and using due precautions in +approaching the dwelling, regained her residence undiscovered and in +safety. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Hence, bashful cunning! +And prompt me, plain and holy innocence; +I am your wife, if you will marry me. + + +—_Tempest_. + + +On joining Miss Peyton, Frances learned that Dunwoodie was not yet +returned; although, with a view to relieve Henry from the importunities +of the supposed fanatic, he had desired a very respectable divine of +their own church to ride up from the river and offer his services. This +gentleman was already arrived, and had been passing the half hour he +had been there, in a sensible and well-bred conversation with the +spinster, that in no degree touched upon their domestic affairs. + +To the eager inquiries of Miss Peyton, relative to her success in her +romantic excursion, Frances could say no more than that she was bound +to be silent, and to recommend the same precaution to the good maiden +also. There was a smile playing around the beautiful mouth of Frances, +while she uttered this injunction, which satisfied her aunt that all +was as it should be. She was urging her niece to take some refreshment +after her fatiguing expedition, when the noise of a horseman riding to +the door, announced the return of the major. He had been found by the +courier who was dispatched by Mason, impatiently waiting the return of +Harper to the ferry, and immediately flew to the place where his friend +had been confined, tormented by a thousand conflicting fears. The heart +of Frances bounded as she listened to his approaching footsteps. It +wanted yet an hour to the termination of the shortest period that the +peddler had fixed as the time necessary to effect his escape. Even +Harper, powerful and well-disposed as he acknowledged himself to be, +had laid great stress upon the importance of detaining the Virginians +during that hour. She, however, had not time to rally her thoughts, +before Dunwoodie entered one door, as Miss Peyton, with the readiness +of female instinct, retired through another. + +The countenance of Peyton was flushed, and an air of vexation and +disappointment pervaded his manner. + +“’Twas imprudent, Frances; nay, it was unkind,” he cried, throwing +himself in a chair, “to fly at the very moment that I had assured him +of safety! I can almost persuade myself that you delight in creating +points of difference in our feelings and duties.” + +“In our duties there may very possibly be a difference,” returned his +mistress, approaching, and leaning her slender form against the wall; +“but not in our feelings, Peyton. You must certainly rejoice in the +escape of Henry!” + +“There was no danger impending. He had the promise of Harper; and it is +a word never to be doubted. O Frances! Frances! had you known the man, +you would never have distrusted his assurance; nor would you have again +reduced me to this distressing alternative.” + +“What alternative?” asked Frances, pitying his emotions deeply, but +eagerly seizing upon every circumstance to prolong the interview. + +“What alternative! Am I not compelled to spend this night in the saddle +to recapture your brother, when I had thought to lay my head on its +pillow, with the happy consciousness of having contributed to his +release? You make me seem your enemy; I, who would cheerfully shed the +last drop of blood in your service. I repeat, Frances, it was rash; it +was unkind; it was a sad, sad mistake.” + +She bent towards him and timidly took one of his hands, while with the +other she gently removed the curls from his burning brow. + +“Why go at all, dear Peyton?” she asked. “You have done much for your +country, and she cannot exact such a sacrifice as this at your hand.” + +“Frances! Miss Wharton!” exclaimed the youth, springing on his feet, +and pacing the floor with a cheek that burned through its brown +covering, and an eye that sparkled with wounded integrity. “It is not +my country, but my honor, that requires the sacrifice. Has he not fled +from a guard of my own corps? But for this, I might have been spared +the blow! But if the eyes of the Virginians are blinded to deception +and artifice, their horses are swift of foot, and their sabers keen. We +shall see, before to-morrow’s sun, who will presume to hint that the +beauty of the sister furnished a mask to conceal the brother! Yes, yes, +I should like, even now,” he continued, laughing bitterly, “to hear the +villain who would dare to surmise that such treachery existed!” + +“Peyton, dear Peyton,” said Frances, recoiling from his angry eye, “you +curdle my blood—would you kill my brother?” + +“Would I not die for him!” exclaimed Dunwoodie, as he turned to her +more mildly. “You know I would; but I am distracted with the cruel +surmise to which this step of Henry’s subjects me. What will Washington +think of me, should he learn that I ever became your husband?” + +“If that alone impels you to act so harshly towards my brother,” +returned Frances, with a slight tremor in her voice, “let it never +happen for him to learn.” + +“And this is consolation, Frances!” + +“Nay, dear Dunwoodie, I meant nothing harsh or unkind; but are you not +making us both of more consequence with Washington than the truth will +justify?” + +“I trust that my name is not entirely unknown to the commander in +chief,” said the major, a little proudly; “nor are you as obscure as +your modesty would make you. I believe you, Frances, when you say that +you pity me, and it must be my task to continue worthy of such +feelings. But I waste the precious moments; we must go through the +hills to-night, that we may be refreshed in time for the duty of +to-morrow. Mason is already waiting my orders to mount. Frances, I +leave you with a heavy heart; pity me, but feel no concern for your +brother; he must again become a prisoner, but every hair of his head is +sacred.” + +“Stop! Dunwoodie, I conjure you,” cried Frances, gasping for breath, as +she noticed that the hand of the clock still wanted many minutes to the +desired hour. “Before you go on your errand of fastidious duty, read +this note that Henry has left for you, and which, doubtless, he thought +he was writing to the friend of his youth.” + +“Frances, I excuse your feelings; but the time will come when you will +do me justice.” + +“That time is now,” she answered, extending her hand, unable any longer +to feign a displeasure that she did not feel. + +“Where got you this note?” exclaimed the youth, glancing his eyes over +its contents. “Poor Henry, you are indeed my friend! If anyone wishes +me happiness, it is you!” + +“He does, he does,” cried Frances, eagerly; “he wishes you every +happiness; believe what he tells you; every word is true.” + +“I do believe him, lovely girl, and he refers me to you for its +confirmation. Would that I could trust equally to your affections!” + +“You may, Peyton,” said Frances, looking up with innocent confidence +towards her lover. + +“Then read for yourself, and verify your words,” interrupted Dunwoodie, +holding the note towards her. + +Frances received it in astonishment, and read the following: + +_“Life is too precious to be trusted to uncertainties. I leave you, +Peyton, unknown to all but Caesar, and I recommend him to your mercy. +But there is a care that weighs me to the earth. Look at my aged and +infirm parent. He will be reproached for the supposed crime of his son. +Look at those helpless sisters that I leave behind me without a +protector. Prove to me that you love us all. Let the clergyman whom you +will bring with you, unite you this night to Frances, and become at +once, brother, son, and husband.”_ + +The paper fell from the hands of Frances, and she endeavored to raise +her eyes to the face of Dunwoodie, but they sank abashed to the floor. + +“Am I worthy of this confidence? Will you send me out this night, to +meet my own brother? or will it be the officer of Congress in quest of +the officer of Britain?” + +“And would you do less of your duty because I am your wife, Major +Dunwoodie? In what degree would it better the condition of Henry?” + +“Henry, I repeat, is safe. The word of Harper is his guarantee; but I +will show the world a bridegroom,” continued the youth, perhaps +deceiving himself a little, “who is equal to the duty of arresting the +brother of his bride.” + +“And will the world comprehend this refinement?” said Frances, with a +musing air, that lighted a thousand hopes in the bosom of her lover. In +fact, the temptation was mighty. Indeed, there seemed no other way to +detain Dunwoodie until the fatal hour had elapsed. The words of Harper +himself, who had so lately told her that openly he could do but little +for Henry, and that everything depended upon gaining time, were deeply +engraved upon her memory. Perhaps there was also a fleeting thought of +the possibility of an eternal separation from her lover, should he +proceed and bring back her brother to punishment. It is difficult at +all times to analyze human emotions, and they pass through the +sensitive heart of a woman with the rapidity and nearly with the +vividness of lightning. + +“Why do you hesitate, dear Frances?” cried Dunwoodie, who was studying +her varying countenance. “A few minutes might give me a husband’s claim +to protect you.” + +Frances grew giddy. She turned an anxious eye to the clock, and the +hand seemed to linger over its face, as if with intent to torture her. + +“Speak, Frances,” murmured Dunwoodie; “may I summon my good kinswoman? +Determine, for time presses.” + +She endeavored to reply, but could only whisper something that was +inaudible, but which her lover, with the privilege of immemorial +custom, construed into assent. He turned and flew to the door, when his +mistress recovered her voice:— + +“Stop, Peyton! I cannot enter into such a solemn engagement with a +fraud upon my conscience. I have seen Henry since his escape, and time +is all-important to him. Here is my hand; if, with this knowledge of +the consequences of delay, you will not reject it, it is freely yours.” + +“Reject it!” cried the delighted youth. “I take it as the richest gift +of heaven. There is time enough for us all. Two hours will take me +through the hills; and by noon to-morrow I will return with +Washington’s pardon for your brother, and Henry will help to enliven +our nuptials.” + +“Then meet me here, in ten minutes,” said Frances, greatly relieved by +unburdening her mind, and filled with the hope of securing Henry’s +safety, “and I will return and take those vows which will bind me to +you forever.” + +Dunwoodie paused only to press her once to his bosom, and flew to +communicate his wishes to the priest. + +Miss Peyton received the avowal of her niece with infinite +astonishment, and a little displeasure. It was violating all the order +and decorum of a wedding to get it up so hastily, and with so little +ceremony. But Frances, with modest firmness, declared that her +resolution was taken; she had long possessed the consent of her +friends, and their nuptials, for months, had only waited her pleasure. +She had now promised Dunwoodie; and it was her wish to comply; more she +dare not say without committing herself, by entering into explanations +that might endanger Birch, or Harper, or both. Unused to contention, +and really much attached to her kinsman, the feeble objections of Miss +Peyton gave way to the firmness of her niece. Mr. Wharton was too +completely a convert to the doctrine of passive obedience and +nonresistance, to withstand any solicitation from an officer of +Dunwoodie’s influence in the rebel armies; and the maid returned to the +apartment, accompanied by her father and aunt, at the expiration of the +time that she had fixed. Dunwoodie and the clergyman were already +there. Frances, silently, and without the affectation of reserve, +placed in his hand the wedding ring of her own mother, and after some +little time spent in arranging Mr. Wharton and herself, Miss Peyton +suffered the ceremony to proceed. + +The clock stood directly before the eyes of Frances, and she turned +many an anxious glance at the dial; but the solemn language of the +priest soon caught her attention, and her mind became intent upon the +vows she was uttering. The ceremony was quickly over, and as the +clergyman closed the words of benediction, the clock told the hour of +nine. This was the time that Harper had deemed so important, and +Frances felt as if a mighty load was at once removed from her heart. + +Dunwoodie folded her in his arms, saluted the mild aunt again and +again, and shook Mr. Wharton and the divine repeatedly by the hands. In +the midst of the felicitation, a tap was heard at the door. It was +opened, and Mason appeared. + +“We are in the saddle,” said the lieutenant, “and, with your +permission, I will lead on; as you are so well mounted, you can +overtake us at your leisure.” + +“Yes, yes, my good fellow; march,” cried Dunwoodie, gladly seizing an +excuse to linger. “I will reach you at the first halt.” + +The subaltern retired to execute these orders; he was followed by Mr. +Wharton and the divine. + +“Now, Peyton,” said Frances, “it is indeed a brother that you seek; I +am sure I need not caution you in his behalf, should you unfortunately +find him.” + +“Say fortunately,” cried the youth, “for I am determined he shall yet +dance at my wedding. Would that I could win him to our cause. It is the +cause of his country; and I could fight with more pleasure, Frances, +with your brother by my side.” + +“Oh! mention it not! You awaken terrible reflections.” + +“I will not mention it,” returned her husband; “but I must now leave +you. But the sooner I go, Frances, the sooner I shall return.” + +The noise of a horseman was heard approaching the house, and Dunwoodie +was yet taking leave of his bride and her aunt, when an officer was +shown into the room by his own man. + +The gentleman wore the dress of an aid-de-camp, and the major at once +knew him to be one of the military family of Washington. + +“Major Dunwoodie,” he said, after bowing to the ladies, “the commander +in chief has directed me to give you these orders.” + +He executed his mission, and, pleading duty, took his leave +immediately. + +“Here, indeed!” cried the major, “is an unexpected turn in the whole +affair; but I understand it: Harper has got my letter, and already we +feel his influence.” + +“Have you news affecting Henry?” cried Frances, springing to his side. + +“Listen, and you shall judge.” + +“SIR,—Upon the receipt of this, you will concentrate your squadron, so +as to be in front of a covering party which the enemy has sent up in +front of his foragers, by ten o’clock to-morrow, on the heights of +Croton, where you will find a body of foot to support you. The escape +of the English spy has been reported to me, but his arrest is +unimportant, compared with the duty I now assign you. You will, +therefore, recall your men, if any are in pursuit, and endeavor to +defeat the enemy forthwith.” + + +Your obedient servant, +GEO. WASHINGTON. + + +“Thank God!” cried Dunwoodie, “my hands are washed of Henry’s +recapture; +I can now move to my duty with honor.” + +“And with prudence, too, dear Peyton,” said Frances, with a face as +pale as death. “Remember, Dunwoodie, you leave behind you new claims on +your life.” + +The youth dwelt on her lovely but pallid features with rapture; and, as +he folded her to his heart, exclaimed,— + +“For your sake, I will, lovely innocent!” Frances sobbed a moment on +his bosom, and he tore himself from her presence. + +Miss Peyton retired with her niece, to whom she conceived it necessary, +before they separated for the night, to give an admonitory lecture on +the subject of matrimonial duty. Her instruction was modestly received, +if not properly digested. We regret that history has not handed down to +us this precious dissertation; but the result of all our investigation +has been to learn that it partook largely of those peculiarities which +are said to tincture the rules prescribed to govern bachelors’ +children. We shall now leave the ladies of the Wharton family, and +return to Captain Wharton and Harvey Birch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Allow him not a parting word; +Short be the shrift, and sure the cord! + + +—_Rokeby_. + + +The peddler and his companion soon reached the valley, and after +pausing to listen, and hearing no sounds which announced that pursuers +were abroad, they entered the highway. Acquainted with every step that +led through the mountains, and possessed of sinews inured to toil, +Birch led the way, with the lengthened strides that were peculiar to +the man and his profession; his pack alone was wanting to finish the +appearance of his ordinary business air. At times, when they approached +one of those little posts held by the American troops, with which the +Highlands abounded, he would take a circuit to avoid the sentinels, and +plunge fearlessly into a thicket, or ascend a rugged hill, that to the +eye seemed impassable. But the peddler was familiar with every turn in +their difficult route, knew where the ravines might be penetrated, or +where the streams were fordable. In one or two instances, Henry thought +that their further progress was absolutely at an end, but the +ingenuity, or knowledge, of his guide, conquered every difficulty. +After walking at a great rate for three hours, they suddenly diverged +from the road, which inclined to the east, and held their course +directly across the hills, in a due south direction. This movement was +made, the peddler informed his companion, in order to avoid the parties +who constantly patrolled in the southern entrance of the Highlands, as +well as to shorten the distance, by traveling in a straight line. After +reaching the summit of a hill, Harvey seated himself by the side of a +little run, and opening a wallet, that he had slung where his pack was +commonly suspended, he invited his comrade to partake of the coarse +fare it contained. Henry had kept pace with the peddler, more by the +excitement natural to his situation, than by the equality of his +physical powers. The idea of a halt was unpleasant, so long as there +existed a possibility of the horse getting below him in time to +intercept their retreat through the neutral ground. He therefore stated +his apprehensions to his companion, and urged a wish to proceed. + +“Follow my example, Captain Wharton,” said the peddler, commencing his +frugal meal. “If the horse have started, it will be more than man can +do to head them; and if they have not, work is cut out for them, that +will drive all thoughts of you and me from their brains.” + +“You said yourself, that two hours’ detention was all-important to us, +and if we loiter here, of what use will be the advantage that we may +have already obtained?” + +“The time is past, and Major Dunwoodie thinks little of following two +men, when hundreds are waiting for him on the banks of the river.” + +“Listen!” interrupted Henry, “there are horse at this moment passing +the foot of the hill. I hear them even laughing and talking to each +other. Hist! there is the voice of Dunwoodie himself; he calls to his +comrade in a manner that shows but little uneasiness. One would think +that the situation of his friend would lower his spirits; surely +Frances could not have given him the letter.” + +On hearing the first exclamation of the captain, Birch arose from his +seat, and approached cautiously to the brow of the hill, taking care to +keep his body in the shadow of the rocks, so as to be unseen at any +distance, and earnestly reconnoitered the group of passing horsemen. He +continued listening, until their quick footsteps were no longer +audible, and then quietly returned to his seat, and with incomparable +coolness resumed his meal. + +“You have a long walk, and a tiresome one, before you, Captain Wharton; +you had better do as I do—you were eager for food at the hut above +Fishkill, but traveling seems to have worn down your appetite.” + +“I thought myself safe, then, but the information of my sister fills me +with uneasiness, and I cannot eat.” + +“You have less reason to be troubled now than at any time since the +night before you were taken, when you refused my advice, and an offer +to see you in safety,” returned the peddler. “Major Dunwoodie is not a +man to laugh and be gay when his friend is in difficulty. Come, then, +and eat, for no horse will be in our way, if we can hold our legs for +four hours longer, and the sun keeps behind the hills as long as +common.” + +There was a composure in the peddler’s manner that encouraged his +companion; and having once determined to submit to Harvey’s government, +he suffered himself to be persuaded into a tolerable supper, if +quantity be considered without any reference to the quality. After +completing their repast, the peddler resumed his journey. + +Henry followed in blind submission to his will. For two hours more they +struggled with the difficult and dangerous passes of the Highlands, +without road, or any other guide than the moon, which was traveling the +heavens, now wading through flying clouds, and now shining brightly. At +length they arrived at a point where the mountains sank into rough and +unequal hillocks, and passed at once from the barren sterility of the +precipices, to the imperfect culture of the neutral ground. + +The peddler now became more guarded in the manner in which they +proceeded, and took divers precautions to prevent meeting any moving +parts of the Americans. With the stationary posts he was too familiar +to render it probable he might fall upon any of them unawares. He wound +among the hills and vales, now keeping the highways and now avoiding +them, with a precision that seemed instinctive. There was nothing +elastic in his tread, but he glided over the ground with enormous +strides, and a body bent forward, without appearing to use exertion, or +know weariness. + +The moon had set, and a faint streak of light was beginning to show +itself in the east. Captain Wharton ventured to express a sense of +fatigue, and to inquire if they were not yet arrived at a part of the +country where it might be safe to apply at some of the farmhouses for +admission. + +“See here,” said the peddler, pointing to a hill, at a short distance +in the rear, “do you not see a man walking on the point of that rock? +Turn, so as to bring the daylight in the range—now, see, he moves, and +seems to be looking earnestly at something to the eastward. That is a +royal sentinel; two hundred of the rig’lar troops lay on that hill, no +doubt sleeping on their arms.” + +“Then,” cried Henry, “let us join them, and our danger is ended.” + +“Softly, softly, Captain Wharton,” said the peddler, dryly, “you’ve +once been in the midst of three hundred of them, but there was a man +who could take you out; see you not yon dark body, on the side of the +opposite hill, just above the cornstalks? There are the—the rebels +(since that is the word for us loyal subjects), waiting only for day, +to see who will be master of the ground.” + +“Nay, then,” exclaimed the fiery youth, “I will join the troops of my +prince, and share their fortune, be it good or be it bad.” + +“You forget that you fight with a halter round your neck; no, no—I have +promised one whom I must not disappoint, to carry you safe in; and +unless you forget what I have already done, and what I have risked for +you, Captain Wharton, you will turn and follow me to Harlem.” + +To this appeal the youth felt unwillingly obliged to submit; and they +continued their course towards the city. It was not long before they +gained the banks of the Hudson. After searching for a short time under +the shore, the peddler discovered a skiff, that appeared to be an old +acquaintance; and entering it with his companion he landed him on the +south side of the Croton. Here Birch declared they were in safety; for +the royal troops held the continentals at bay, and the former were out +in too great strength for the light parties of the latter to trust +themselves below that river, on the immediate banks of the Hudson. + +Throughout the whole of this arduous flight, the peddler had manifested +a coolness and presence of mind that nothing appeared to disturb. All +his faculties seemed to be of more than usual perfection, and the +infirmities of nature to have no dominion over him. Henry had followed +him like a child in leading strings, and he now reaped his reward, as +he felt a bound of pleasure at his heart, on hearing that he was +relieved from apprehension, and permitted to banish every doubt of +security. + +A steep and laborious ascent brought them from the level of the +tidewaters to the high lands that form, in this part of the river, the +eastern banks of the Hudson. Retiring a little from the highway, under +the shelter of a thicket of cedars, the peddler threw his form on a +flat rock, and announced to his companion that the hour for rest and +refreshment was at length arrived. The day was now opened, and objects +could be seen in the distance, with distinctness. Beneath them lay the +Hudson, stretching to the south in a straight line, as far as the eye +could reach. To the north, the broken fragments of the Highlands threw +upwards their lofty heads, above masses of fog that hung over the +water, and by which the course of the river could be traced into the +bosom of hills whose conical summits were grouping togather, one behind +another, in that disorder which might be supposed to have succeeded +their gigantic, but fruitless, efforts to stop the progress of the +flood. Emerging from these confused piles, the river, as if rejoicing +at its release from the struggle, expanded into a wide bay, which was +ornamented by a few fertile and low points that jutted humbly into its +broad basin. On the opposite, or western shore, the rocks of Jersey +were gathered into an array that has obtained for them the name of the +“Palisades,” elevating themselves for many hundred feet, as if to +protect the rich country in their rear from the inroads of the +conqueror; but, disdaining such an enemy, the river swept proudly by +their feet, and held its undeviating way to the ocean. A ray of the +rising sun darted upon the slight cloud that hung over the placid +river, and at once the whole scene was in motion, changing and assuming +new forms, and exhibiting fresh objects in each successive moment. At +the daily rising of this great curtain of nature, at the present time, +scores of white sails and sluggish vessels are seen thickening on the +water, with that air of life which denotes the neighborhood to the +metropolis of a great and flourishing empire; but to Henry and the +peddler it displayed only the square yards and lofty masts of a vessel +of war, riding a few miles below them. Before the fog had begun to +move, the tall spars were seen above it, and from one of them a long +pennant was feebly borne abroad in the current of night air, that still +quivered along the river; but as the smoke arose, the black hull, the +crowded and complicated mass of rigging, and the heavy yards and booms, +spreading their arms afar, were successively brought into view. + +“There, Captain Wharton,” said the peddler, “there is a safe resting +place for you; America has no arm that can reach you, if you gain the +deck of that ship. She is sent up to cover the foragers, and support +the troops; the rig’lar officers are fond of the sound of cannon from +their shipping.” + +Without condescending to reply to the sarcasm conveyed in this speech, +or perhaps not noticing it, Henry joyfully acquiesced in the proposal, +and it was accordingly arranged between them, that, as soon as they +were refreshed, he should endeavor to get on board the vessel. + +While busily occupied in the very indispensable operation of breaking +their fast, our adventurers were startled with the sound of distant +firearms. At first a few scattering shots were fired, which were +succeeded by a long and animated roll of musketry, and then quick and +heavy volleys followed each other. + +“Your prophecy is made good,” cried the English officer, springing upon +his feet. “Our troops and the rebels are at it! I would give six +months’ pay to see the charge.” + +“Umph!” returned his companion, without ceasing his meal, “they do very +well to look at from a distance; I can’t say but the company of this +bacon, cold as it is, is more to my taste, just now, than a hot fire +from the continentals.” + +“The discharges are heavy for so small a force; but the fire seems +irregular.” + +“The scattering guns are from the Connecticut militia,” said Harvey, +raising his head to listen; “they rattle it off finely, and are no +fools at a mark. The volleys are the rig’lars, who, you know, fire by +word—as long as they can.” + +“I like not the warmth of what you call a scattering fire,” exclaimed +the captain, moving about with uneasiness; “it is more like the roll of +a drum than skirmishers’ shooting.” + +“No, no; I said not skrimmagers,” returned the other, raising himself +upon a knee, and ceasing to eat; “so long as they stand, they are too +good for the best troops in the royal army. Each man does his work as +if fighting by the job; and then, they think while they fight, and +don’t send bullets to the clouds, that were meant to kill men on +earth.” + +“You talk and look, sir, as if you wished them success,” said Henry, +sternly. + +“I wish success to the good cause only, Captain Wharton. I thought you +knew me too well, to be uncertain which party I favored.” + +“Oh! you are reputed loyal, Mr. Birch. But the volleys have ceased!” + +Both now listened intently for a little while, during which the +irregular reports became less brisk, and suddenly heavy and repeated +volleys followed. + +“They’ve been at the bayonet,” said the peddler; “the rig’lars have +tried the bayonet, and the rebels are driven.” + +“Aye, Mr. Birch, the bayonet is the thing for the British soldier, +after all. They delight in the bayonet!” + +“Well, to my notion,” said the peddler, “there’s but little delight to +be taken in any such fearful weapon. I dare say the militia are of my +mind, for half of them don’t carry the ugly things. Lord! Lord! +captain, I wish you’d go with me once into the rebel camp, and hear +what lies the men will tell about Bunker Hill and Burg’yne; you’d think +they loved the bayonet as much as they do their dinners.” + +There was a chuckle, and an air of affected innocency about his +companion, that rather annoyed Henry, and he did not deign to reply. + +The firing now became desultory, occasionally intermingled with heavy +volleys. Both of the fugitives were standing, listening with much +anxiety, when a man, armed with a musket, was seen stealing towards +them, under the shelter of the cedar bushes, that partially covered the +hill. Henry first observed this suspicious-looking stranger, and +instantly pointed him out to his companion. Birch started, and +certainly made an indication of sudden flight; but recollecting +himself, he stood, in sullen silence, until the stranger was within a +few yards of them. + +“’Tis friends,” said the fellow, clubbing his gun, but apparently +afraid to venture nearer. + +“You had better retire,” said Birch; “here are rig’lars at hand. We are +not near Dunwoodie’s horse now, and you will not find me an easy prize +to-day.” + +“Damn Major Dunwoodie and his horse!” cried the leader of the Skinners +(for it was he); “God bless King George! and a speedy end to the +rebellion, say I. If you would show me the safe way in to the refugees, +Mr. Birch, I’ll pay you well, and ever after stand your friend, in the +bargain.” + +“The road is as open to you as to me,” said Birch, turning from him in +ill-concealed disgust. “If you want to find the refugees, you know well +where they lay.” + +“Aye, but I’m a little doubtful of going in upon them by myself; now, +you are well known to them all, and it will be no detriment to you just +to let me go in with you.” + +Henry here interfered, and after holding a short dialogue with the +fellow, he entered into a compact with him, that, on condition of +surrendering his arms, he might join the party. The man complied +instantly, and Birch received his gun with eagerness; nor did he lay it +upon his shoulder to renew their march, before he had carefully +examined the priming, and ascertained, to his satisfaction, that it +contained a good, dry, ball cartridge. + +As soon as this engagement was completed, they commenced their journey +anew. By following the bank of the river, Birch led the way free from +observation, until they reached the point opposite to the frigate, +when, by making a signal, a boat was induced to approach. Some time was +spent, and much precaution used, before the seamen would trust +themselves ashore; but Henry having finally succeeded in making the +officer who commanded the party credit his assertions, he was able to +rejoin his companions in arms in safety. Before taking leave of Birch, +the captain handed him his purse, which was tolerably well supplied for +the times; the peddler received it, and, watching an opportunity, he +conveyed it, unnoticed by the Skinner, to a part of his dress that was +ingeniously contrived to hold such treasures. + +The boat pulled from the shore, and Birch turned on his heel, drawing +his breath, like one relieved, and shot up the hills with the strides +for which he was famous. The Skinner followed, and each party pursued +the common course, casting frequent and suspicious glances at the +other, and both maintaining a most impenetrable silence. + +Wagons were moving along the river road, and occasional parties of +horse were seen escorting the fruits of the inroad towards the city. As +the peddler had views of his own, he rather avoided falling in with any +of these patrols, than sought their protection. But, after traveling a +few miles on the immediate banks of the river, during which, +notwithstanding the repeated efforts of the Skinner to establish +something like sociability, he maintained a most determined silence, +keeping a firm hold of the gun, and always maintaining a jealous +watchfulness of his associate, the peddler suddenly struck into the +highway, with an intention of crossing the hills towards Harlem. At the +moment he gained the path, a body of horse came over a little eminence, +and was upon him before he perceived them. It was too late to retreat, +and after taking a view of the materials that composed this party, +Birch rejoiced in the rencounter, as a probable means of relieving him +from his unwelcome companion. There were some eighteen or twenty men, +mounted and equipped as dragoons, though neither their appearance nor +manners denoted much discipline. At their head rode a heavy, +middle-aged man, whose features expressed as much of animal courage, +and as little of reason, as could be desired for such an occupation. He +wore the dress of an officer, but there was none of that neatness in +his attire, nor grace in his movements, that was usually found about +the gentlemen who bore the royal commission. His limbs were firm, and +not pliable, and he sat his horse with strength and confidence, but his +bridle hand would have been ridiculed by the meanest rider amongst the +Virginians. As he expected, this leader instantly hailed the peddler, +in a voice by no means more conciliating than his appearance. + +“Hey! my gentlemen, which way so fast?” he cried, “Has Washington sent +you down as spies?” + +“I am an innocent peddler,” returned Harvey meekly, “and am going +below, to lay in a fresh stock of goods.” + +“And how do you expect to get below, my innocent peddler? Do you think +we hold the forts at King’s Bridge to cover such peddling rascals as +you, in your goings in and comings out?” + +“I believe I hold a pass that will carry me through,” said the peddler, +handing him a paper, with an air of indifference. + +The officer, for such he was, read it, and cast a look of surprise and +curiosity at Harvey, when he had done. + +Then turning to one or two of his men, who had officiously stopped the +way, he cried,— + +“Why do you detain the man? Give way, and let him pass in peace. But +whom have we here? Your name is not mentioned in the pass!” + +“No, sir,” said the Skinner, lifting his hat with humility. “I have +been a poor, deluded man, who has been serving in the rebel army; but, +thank God, I’ve lived to see the error of my ways, and am now come to +make reparation, by enlisting under the Lord’s anointed.” + +“Umph! a deserter—a Skinner, I’ll swear, wanting to turn Cowboy! In the +last brush I had with the scoundrels, I could hardly tell my own men +from the enemy. We are not over well supplied with coats, and as for +countenances, the rascals change sides so often, that you may as well +count their faces for nothing; but trudge on, we will contrive to make +use of you, sooner or later.” + +Ungracious as was this reception, if you could judge of the Skinner’s +feelings from his manner, it nevertheless delighted him. He moved with +alacrity towards the city, and really was so happy to escape the brutal +looks and frightful manner of his interrogator, as to lose sight of all +other considerations. But the man who performed the functions of +orderly in the irregular troop, rode up to the side of his commander, +and commenced a close and apparently a confidential discourse with his +principal. They spoke in whispers, and cast frequent and searching +glances at the Skinner, until the fellow began to think himself an +object of more than common attention. His satisfaction at this +distinction was somewhat heightened, at observing a smile on the face +of the captain, which, although it might be thought grim, certainly +denoted satisfaction. This pantomime occupied the time they were +passing a hollow, and concluded as they rose another hill. Here the +captain and his sergeant both dismounted, and ordered the party to +halt. The two partisans each took a pistol from his holster, a movement +that excited no suspicion or alarm, as it was a precaution always +observed, and beckoned to the peddler and the Skinner to follow. A +short walk brought them to a spot where the hill overhung the river, +the ground falling nearly perpendicularly to the shore. On the brow of +the eminence stood a deserted and dilapidated barn. Many boards of its +covering were torn from their places, and its wide doors were lying, +the one in front of the building, and the other halfway down the +precipice, whither the wind had cast it. Entering this desolate spot, +the refugee officer very coolly took from his pocket a short pipe, +which, from long use, had acquired not only the hue but the gloss of +ebony, a tobacco box, and a small roll of leather, that contained +steel, flint, and tinder. With this apparatus, he soon furnished his +mouth with a companion that habit had long rendered necessary to +reflection. So soon as a large column of smoke arose from this +arrangement, the captain significantly held forth a hand towards his +assistant. A small cord was produced from the pocket of the sergeant, +and handed to the other. The refugee threw out vast puffs of smoke, +until nearly all of his head was obscured, and looked around the +building with an inquisitive eye. At length he removed the pipe, and +inhaling a draft of pure air, returned it to its domicile, and +proceeded at once to business. A heavy piece of timber lay across the +girths of the barn, but a little way from the southern door, which +opened directly upon a full view of the river, as it stretched far away +towards the bay of New York. Over this beam the refugee threw one end +of the rope, and, regaining it, joined the two parts in his hand. A +small and weak barrel, that wanted a head, the staves of which were +loose, and at one end standing apart, was left on the floor, probably +as useless. The sergeant, in obedience to a look from his officer, +placed it beneath the beam. All of these arrangements were made with +composure, and they now seemed completed to the officer’s perfect +satisfaction. + +“Come,” he said coolly to the Skinner, who, admiring the preparations, +had stood a silent spectator of their progress. He obeyed; and it was +not until he found his neckcloth removed, and hat thrown aside, that he +took the alarm. But he had so often resorted to a similar expedient to +extort information, or plunder, that he by no means felt the terror an +unpracticed man would have suffered, at these ominous movements. The +rope was adjusted to his neck with the same coolness that formed the +characteristic of the whole movement, and a fragment of board being +laid upon the barrel, he was ordered to mount. + +“But it may fall,” said the Skinner, for the first time beginning to +tremble. “I will tell you anything—even how to surprise our party at +the Pond, without all this trouble, and it is commanded by my own +brother.” + +“I want no information,” returned his executioner (for such he now +seemed really to be), throwing the rope repeatedly over the beam, first +drawing it tight so as to annoy the Skinner a little, and then casting +the end from him, beyond the reach of anyone. + +“This is joking too far,” cried the Skinner, in a tone of remonstrance, +and raising himself on his toes, with the vain hope of releasing +himself from the cord, by slipping his head through the noose. But the +caution and experience of the refugee officer had guarded against this +escape. + +“What have you done with the horse you stole from me, rascal?” muttered +the officer of the Cowboys, throwing out columns of smoke while he +waited for a reply. + +“He broke down in the chase,” replied the Skinner quickly; “but I can +tell you where one is to be found that is worth him and his sire.” + +“Liar! I will help myself when I am in need; you had better call upon +God for aid, as your hour is short.” On concluding this consoling +advice, he struck the barrel a violent blow with his heavy foot, and +the slender staves flew in every direction, leaving the Skinner +whirling in the air. As his hands were unconfined, he threw them +upwards, and held himself suspended by main strength. + +“Come, captain,” he said, coaxingly, a little huskiness creeping into +his voice, and his knees beginning to shake with tremor, “end the joke; +’tis enough to make a laugh, and my arms begin to tire—I can’t hold on +much longer.” + +“Harkee, Mr. Peddler,” said the refugee, in a voice that would not be +denied, “I want not your company. Through that door lies your +road—march! offer to touch that dog, and you’ll swing in his place, +though twenty Sir Henrys wanted your services.” So saying, he retired +to the road with the sergeant, as the peddler precipitately retreated +down the bank. + +Birch went no farther than a bush that opportunely offered itself as a +screen to his person, while he yielded to an unconquerable desire to +witness the termination of this extraordinary scene. + +Left alone, the Skinner began to throw fearful glances around, to espy +the hiding places of his tormentors. For the first time the horrid idea +seemed to shoot through his brain that something serious was intended +by the Cowboy. He called entreatingly to be released, and made rapid +and incoherent promises of important information, mingled with affected +pleasantry at their conceit, which he would hardly admit to himself +could mean anything so dreadful as it seemed. But as he heard the tread +of the horses moving on their course, and in vain looked around for +human aid, violent trembling seized his limbs, and his eyes began to +start from his head with terror. He made a desperate effort to reach +the beam; but, too much exhausted with his previous exertions, he +caught the rope in his teeth, in a vain effort to sever the cord, and +fell to the whole length of his arms. Here his cries were turned into +shrieks. + +“Help! cut the rope! captain!—Birch! good peddler! Down with the +Congress!—sergeant! for God’s sake, help! Hurrah for the king!—O God! +O God!—mercy, mercy—mercy!” + +As his voice became suppressed, one of his hands endeavored to make its +way between the rope and his neck, and partially succeeded; but the +other fell quivering by his side. A convulsive shuddering passed over +his whole frame, and he hung a hideous corpse. + +Birch continued gazing on this scene with a kind of infatuation. At its +close he placed his hands to his ears, and rushed towards the highway. +Still the cries for mercy rang through his brain, and it was many weeks +before his memory ceased to dwell on the horrid event. The Cowboys rode +steadily on their route, as if nothing had occurred; and the body was +left swinging in the wind, until chance directed the wandering +footsteps of some lonely straggler to the place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Green be the turf above thee, +Friend of my better days; +None knew thee but to love thee, +None named thee but to praise. + + +—HALLECK. + + +While the scenes and events that we have recorded were occurring, +Captain Lawton led his small party, by slow and wary marches, from the +Four Corners to the front of a body of the enemy; where he so +successfully maneuvered, for a short time, as completely to elude all +their efforts to entrap him, and yet so disguised his own force as to +excite the constant apprehension of an attack from the Americans. This +forbearing policy, on the side of the partisan, was owing to positive +orders received from his commander. When Dunwoodie left his detachment, +the enemy were known to be slowly advancing, and he directed Lawton to +hover around them, until his own return, and the arrival of a body of +foot, might enable him to intercept their retreat. + +The trooper discharged his duty to the letter but with no little of the +impatience that made part of his character when restrained from the +attack. + +During these movements, Betty Flanagan guided her little cart with +indefatigable zeal among the rocks of Westchester, now discussing with +the sergeant the nature of evil spirits, and now combating with the +surgeon sundry points of practice that were hourly arising between +them. But the moment arrived that was to decide the temporary mastery +of the field. A detachment of the eastern militia moved out from their +fastnesses, and approached the enemy. + +The junction between Lawton and his auxiliaries was made at midnight, +and an immediate consultation was held between him and the leader of +the foot soldiers. After listening to the statements of the partisan, +who rather despised the prowess of his enemy, the commandant of the +party determined to attack the British, the moment daylight enabled him +to reconnoiter their position, without waiting for the aid of Dunwoodie +and his horse. So soon as this decision was made, Lawton retired from +the building where the consultation was held, and rejoined his own +small command. + +The few troopers who were with the captain had fastened their horses in +a spot adjacent to a haystack, and laid their own frames under its +shelter, to catch a few hours’ sleep. But Dr. Sitgreaves, Sergeant +Hollister, and Betty Flanagan were congregated at a short distance by +themselves, having spread a few blankets upon the dry surface of a +rock. Lawton threw his huge frame by the side of the surgeon, and +folding his cloak about him, leaned his head upon one hand, and +appeared deeply engaged in contemplating the moon as it waded through +the heavens. The sergeant was sitting upright, in respectful deference +to the surgeon, and the washerwoman was now raising her head, in order +to vindicate some of her favorite maxims, and now composing it to +sleep. + +“So, sergeant,” continued Sitgreaves, following up a previous position, +“if you cut upwards, the blow, by losing the additional momentum of +your weight, will be less destructive, and at the same time effect the +true purpose of war, that of disabling your enemy.” + +“Pooh! pooh! sergeant dear,” said the washerwoman, raising her head +from the blanket, “where’s the harm of taking a life, jist in the way +of battle? Is it the rig’lars who’ll show favor, and they fighting? Ask +Captain Jack there, if the country could get free, and the boys no +strike their might. I wouldn’t have them disparage the whisky so much.” + +“It is not to be expected that an ignorant female like yourself, Mrs. +Flanagan,” returned the surgeon, with a calmness that only rendered his +contempt more stinging to Betty, “can comprehend the distinctions of +surgical science; neither are you accomplished in the sword exercise; +so that dissertations upon the judicious use of that weapon could avail +you nothing either in theory or in practice.” + +“It’s hut little I care, anyway, for such botherment; but fighting is +no play, and a body shouldn’t be particular how they strike, or who +they hit, so it’s the inimy.” + +“Are we likely to have a warm day, Captain Lawton?” + +“’Tis more than probable,” replied the trooper; “these militia seldom +fail of making a bloody field, either by their cowardice or their +ignorance, and the real soldier is made to suffer for their bad +conduct.” + +“Are you ill, John?” said the surgeon, passing his hand along the arm +of the captain, until it instinctively settled on his pulse; but the +steady, even beat announced neither bodily nor mental malady. + +“Sick at heart, Archibald, at the folly of our rulers, in believing +that battles are to be fought and victories won, by fellows who handle +a musket as they would a flail; lads who wink when they pull a trigger, +and form a line like a hoop pole. The dependence we place on these men +spills the best blood of the country.” + +The surgeon listened with amazement. It was not the matter, but the +manner that surprised him. The trooper had uniformly exhibited, on the +eve of battle, an animation, and an eagerness to engage, that was +directly at variance with the admirable coolness of his manner at other +times. But now there was a despondency in the tones of his voice, and a +listlessness in his air, that was entirely different. The operator +hesitated a moment, to reflect in what manner he could render this +change of service in furthering his favorite system, and then +continued,— + +“It would be wise, John, to advise the colonel to keep at long shot; a +spent ball will disable—” + +“No!” exclaimed the trooper, impatiently, “let the rascals singe their +whiskers at the muzzles of the British muskets, if they can be driven +there. But, enough of them. Archibald, do you deem that moon to be a +world like this, containing creatures like ourselves?” + +“Nothing more probable, dear John; we know its size and, reasoning from +analogy, may easily conjecture its use. Whether or not its inhabitants +have attained to that perfection in the sciences which we have +acquired, must depend greatly on the state of its society, and in some +measure upon its physical influences.” + +“I care nothing about their learning, Archibald; but ’tis a wonderful +power that can create such worlds, and control them in their +wanderings. I know not why, but there is a feeling of melancholy +excited within me as I gaze on that body of light, shaded as it is by +your fancied sea and land. It seems to be the resting place of departed +spirits!” + +“Take a drop, darling,” said Betty, raising her head once more, and +proffering her own bottle. “’Tis the night damp that chills the +blood—and then the talk with the cursed militia is no good for a fiery +temper. Take a drop, darling, and ye’ll sleep till the morning. I fed +Roanoke myself, for I thought ye might need hard riding the morrow.” + +“’Tis a glorious heaven to look upon,” continued the trooper, in the +same tone, disregarding the offer of Betty, “and ’tis a thousand pities +that such worms as men should let their vile passions deface such +goodly work.” + +“You speak the truth, dear John; there is room for all to live and +enjoy themselves in peace, if each could be satisfied with his own. +Still, war has its advantages; it particularly promotes the knowledge +of surgery; and—” + +“There is a star,” continued Lawton, still bent on his own ideas, +“struggling to glitter through a few driving clouds; perhaps that too +is a world, and contains its creatures endowed with reason like +ourselves. Think you that they know of war and bloodshed?” + +“If I might be so bold,” said Sergeant Hollister, mechanically raising +his hand to his cap, “’tis mentioned in the good book, that the Lord +made the sun to stand still while Joshua was charging the enemy, in +order, sir, as I suppose, that they might have daylight to turn their +flank, or perhaps make a feint in the rear, or some such maneuver. Now, +if the Lord would lend them a hand, fighting cannot be sinful. I have +often been nonplused, though, to find that they used them chariots +instead of heavy dragoons, who are, in all comparison, better to break +a line of infantry, and who, for the matter of that, could turn such +wheel carriages, and getting into the rear, play the very devil with +them, horse and all.” + +“It is because you do not understand the construction of those ancient +vehicles, Sergeant Hollister, that you judge of them so erroneously,” +said the surgeon. “They were armed with sharp weapons that protruded +from their wheels, and which broke up the columns of foot, like +dismembered particles of matter. I doubt not, if similar instruments +were affixed to the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, that great confusion might +be carried into the ranks of the enemy thereby, this very day.” + +“It’s but little that the mare would go, and the rig’lars firing at +her,” grumbled Betty, from under her blanket. “When we got the plunder, +the time we drove them through the Jarseys it was, I had to back the +baste up to the dead; for the divil the foot would she move, fornent +the firing, wid her eyes open. Roanoke and Captain Jack are good enough +for the redcoats, letting alone myself and the mare.” + +A long roll of the drums, from the hill occupied by the British, +announced that they were on the alert; and a corresponding signal was +immediately heard from the Americans. The bugle of the Virginians +struck up its martial tones; and in a few moments both the hills, the +one held by the royal troops and the other by their enemies, were alive +with armed men. Day had begun to dawn, and preparations were making by +both parties, to give and to receive the attack. In numbers the +Americans had greatly the advantage; but in discipline and equipment +the superiority was entirely with their enemies. The arrangements for +the battle were brief, and by the time the sun rose the militia moved +forward. + +The ground did not admit of the movements of horse; and the only duty +that could be assigned to the dragoons was to watch the moment of +victory, and endeavor to improve the success to the utmost. Lawton soon +got his warriors into the saddle; and leaving them to the charge of +Hollister, he rode himself along the line of foot, who, in varied +dresses, and imperfectly armed, were formed in a shape that in some +degree resembled a martial array. A scornful smile lowered about the +lip of the trooper as he guided Roanoke with a skillful hand through +the windings of their ranks; and when the word was given to march, he +turned the flank of the regiment, and followed close in the rear. The +Americans had to descend into a little hollow, and rise a hill on its +opposite side, to approach the enemy. + +The descent was made with tolerable steadiness, until near the foot of +the hill, when the royal troops advanced in a beautiful line, with +their flanks protected by the formation of the ground. The appearance +of the British drew a fire from the militia, which was given with good +effect, and for a moment staggered the regulars. But they were rallied +by their officers, and threw in volley after volley with great +steadiness. For a short time the fire was warm and destructive, until +the English advanced with the bayonet. This assault the militia had not +sufficient discipline to withstand. Their line wavered, then paused, +and finally broke into companies and fragments of companies, keeping up +at the same time a scattering and desultory fire. + +Lawton witnessed these operations in silence, nor did he open his mouth +until the field was covered with parties of the flying Americans. Then, +indeed, he seemed stung with the disgrace thus heaped upon the arms of +his country. Spurring Roanoke along the side of the hill, he called to +the fugitives in all the strength of his powerful voice. He pointed to +the enemy, and assured his countrymen that they had mistaken the way. +There was such a mixture of indifference and irony in his exhortations +that a few paused in surprise—more joined them, until, roused by the +example of the trooper, and stimulated by their own spirit, they +demanded to be led against their foe once more. + +“Come on, then, my brave friends!” shouted the trooper, turning his +horse’s head towards the British line, one flank of which was very near +him; “come on, and hold your fire until it will scorch their eyebrows.” + +The men sprang forward, and followed his example, neither giving nor +receiving a fire until they had come within a very short distance of +the enemy. An English sergeant, who had been concealed by a rock, +enraged with the audacity of the officer who thus dared their arms, +stepped from behind his cover, and leveled his musket. + +“Fire and you die!” cried Lawton, spurring his charger, which leaped +forward at the instant. The action and the tone of his voice shook the +nerves of the Englishman, who drew his trigger with an uncertain aim. +Roanoke sprang with all his feet from the earth, and, plunging, fell +headlong and lifeless at the feet of his destroyer. Lawton kept his +feet, standing face to face with his enemy. The latter presented his +bayonet, and made a desperate thrust at the trooper’s heart. The steel +of their weapons emitted sparks of fire, and the bayonet flew fifty +feet in the air. At the next moment its owner lay a quivering corpse. + +“Come on!” shouted the trooper, as a body of English appeared on the +rock, and threw in a close fire. “Come on!” he repeated, and brandished +his saber fiercely. Then his gigantic form fell backward, like a +majestic pine yielding to the ax; but still, as he slowly fell, he +continued to wield his saber, and once more the deep tones of his voice +were heard uttering, “Come on!” + +The advancing Americans paused aghast, and, turning, they abandoned the +field to the royal troops. + +It was neither the intention nor the policy of the English commander to +pursue his success, for he well knew that strong parties of the +Americans would soon arrive; accordingly he only tarried to collect his +wounded, and forming in a square, he commenced his retreat towards the +shipping. Within twenty minutes of the fall of Lawton, the ground was +deserted by both English and Americans. When the inhabitants of the +country were called upon to enter the field, they were necessarily +attended by such surgical advisers as were furnished by the low state +of the profession in the interior at that day. Dr. Sitgreaves +entertained quite as profound a contempt for the medical attendants of +the militia as the captain did of the troops themselves. He wandered, +therefore, around the field, casting many a glance of disapprobation at +the slight operations that came under his eye; but when, among the +flying troops, he found that his comrade and friend was nowhere to be +seen, he hastened back to the spot at which Hollister was posted, to +inquire if the trooper had returned. Of course, the answer was in the +negative. Filled with a thousand uneasy conjectures, the surgeon, +without regarding, or indeed without at all reflecting upon any dangers +that might lie in his way, strode over the ground at an enormous rate, +to the point where he knew the final struggle had been. Once before, +the surgeon had rescued his friend from death in a similar situation; +and he felt a secret joy in his own conscious skill, as he perceived +Betty Flanagan seated on the ground, holding in her lap the head of a +man whose size and dress he knew could belong only to the trooper. As +he approached the spot, the surgeon became alarmed at the aspect of the +washerwoman. Her little black bonnet was thrown aside, and her hair, +which was already streaked with gray, hung around her face in disorder. + +“John! dear John!” said the doctor, tenderly, as he bent and laid his +hand upon the senseless wrist of the trooper, from which it recoiled +with an intuitive knowledge of his fate. “John! where are you hurt?—can +I help you?” + +“Ye talk to the senseless clay,” said Betty, rocking her body, and +unconsciously playing with the raven ringlets of the trooper’s hair; +“it’s no more will he hear, and it’s but little will he mind yeer +probes and yeer med’cines. Och hone,” och hone!—and where will be the +liberty now? or who will there be to fight the battle, or gain the +day?” + +“John!” repeated the surgeon, still unwilling to believe the evidence +of his unerring senses. “Dear John, speak to me; say what you will, +that you do but speak. Oh, God! he is dead; would that I had died with +him!” + +“There is but little use in living and fighting now,” said Betty. “Both +him and the baste! see, there is the poor cratur, and here is the +master! I fed the horse with my own hands, the day; and the last male +that _he_ ate was of my own cooking. Och hone! och hone!—that Captain +Jack should live to be killed by the rig’lars!” + +“John! my dear John!” said the surgeon, with convulsive sobs, “thy hour +has come, and many a more prudent man survives thee; but none better, +nor braver. O John, thou wert to me a kind friend, and very dear; it is +unphilosophical to grieve; but for thee I must weep, in bitterness of +heart.” + +The doctor buried his face in his hands, and for several minutes sat +yielding to an ungovernable burst of sorrow; while the washerwoman gave +vent to her grief in words, moving her body in a kind of writhing, and +playing with different parts of her favorite’s dress with her fingers. + +“And who’ll there be to encourage the boys now?” she said. “O Captain +Jack! ye was the sowl of the troop, and it was but little we knowed of +the danger, and ye fighting. Och! he was no maly-mouthed, that +quarreled wid a widowed woman for the matter of a burn in the mate, or +the want of a breakfast. Taste a drop, darling, and it may be, ’twill +revive ye. Och! and he’ll niver taste ag’in; here’s the doctor, honey, +him ye used to blarney wid, waping as if the poor sowl would die for +ye. Och! he’s gone, he’s gone; and the liberty is gone with him.” + +A thundering sound of horses’ feet came rolling along the road which +led near the place where Lawton lay, and directly the whole body of +Virginians appeared, with Dunwoodie at their head. The news of the +captain’s fate had reached him, for the instant that he saw the body he +halted the squadron, and, dismounting, approached the spot. The +countenance of Lawton was not in the least distorted, but the angry +frown which had lowered over his brow during the battle was fixed even +in death. His frame was composed, and stretched as in sleep. Dunwoodie +took hold of his hand, and gazed a moment in silence; his own dark eye +kindled, and the paleness which had overspread his features was +succeeded by a spot of deep red in either cheek. + +“With his own sword will I avenge him!” he cried, endeavoring to take +the weapon from the hand of Lawton; but the grasp resisted his utmost +strength. “It shall be buried with him. Sitgreaves, take care of our +friend, while I revenge his death.” + +The major hastened back to his charger, and led the way in pursuit of +the enemy. + +While Dunwoodie had been thus engaged, the body of Lawton lay in open +view of the whole squadron. He was a universal favorite, and the sight +inflamed the men to the utmost: neither officers nor soldiers possessed +that coolness which is necessary to insure success in military +operations; they spurred after their enemies, burning for vengeance. + +The English were formed in a hollow square, which contained their +wounded, who were far from numerous, and were marching steadily across +a very uneven country as the dragoons approached. The horse charged in +column, and were led by Dunwoodie, who, burning with revenge, thought +to ride through their ranks, and scatter them at a blow. But the enemy +knew their own strength too well, and, standing firm, they received the +charge on the points of their bayonets. The horses of the Virginians +recoiled, and the rear rank of the foot throwing in a close fire, the +major, with a few men, fell. The English continued their retreat the +moment they were extricated from their assailants; and Dunwoodie, who +was severely, but not dangerously wounded, recalled his men from +further attempts, which must be fruitless. + +A sad duty remained to be fulfilled. The dragoons retired slowly +through the hills, conveying their wounded commander, and the body of +Lawton. The latter they interred under the ramparts of one of the +Highland forts, and the former they consigned to the tender care of his +afflicted bride. + +Many weeks were gone before the major was restored to sufficient +strength to be removed. During those weeks, how often did he bless the +moment that gave him a right to the services of his beautiful nurse! +She hung around his couch with fond attention, administered with her +own hands every prescription of the indefatigable Sitgreaves, and grew +each hour in the affections and esteem of her husband. An order from +Washington soon sent the troops into winter quarters, and permission +was given to Dunwoodie to repair to his own plantation, with the rank +of lieutenant colonel, in order to complete the restoration of his +health. Captain Singleton made one of the party; and the whole family +retired from the active scenes of the war, to the ease and plenty of +the major’s own estate. Before leaving Fishkill, however, letters were +conveyed to them, through an unknown hand, acquainting them with +Henry’s safety and good health; and also that Colonel Wellmere had left +the continent for his native island, lowered in the estimation of every +honest man in the royal army. + +It was a happy winter for Dunwoodie, and smiles once more began to play +around the lovely mouth of Frances. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +’Midst furs, and silks, and jewels’ sheen, +He stood, in simple Lincoln green, +The center of the glittering ring; +And Snowdon’s knight is Scotland’s king! + + +—_Lady of the Lake_. + + +The commencement of the following year was passed, on the part of the +Americans, in making great preparations, in conjunction with their +allies, to bring the war to a close. In the South, Greene and Rawdon +made a bloody campaign, that was highly honorable to the troops of the +latter, but which, by terminating entirely to the advantage of the +former, proved him to be the better general of the two. + +New York was the point that was threatened by the allied armies; and +Washington, by exciting a constant apprehension for the safety of that +city, prevented such reënforcements from being sent to Cornwallis as +would have enabled him to improve his success. + +At length, as autumn approached, every indication was given that the +final moment had arrived. + +The French forces drew near to the royal lines, passing through the +neutral ground, and threatened an attack in the direction of King’s +Bridge, while large bodies of Americans were acting in concert. By +hovering around the British posts, and drawing nigh in the Jerseys, +they seemed to threaten the royal forces from that quarter also. The +preparations partook of the nature of both a siege and a storm. But Sir +Henry Clinton, in the possession of intercepted letters from +Washington, rested within his lines, and cautiously disregarded the +solicitations of Cornwallis for succor. + +It was at the close of a stormy day in the month of September, that a +large assemblage of officers was collected near the door of a building +that was situated in the heart of the Americans troops, who held the +Jerseys. The age, the dress, and the dignity of deportment of most of +these warriors, indicated them to be of high rank; but to one in +particular was paid a deference and obedience that announced him to be +of the highest. His dress was plain, but it bore the usual military +distinctions of command. He was mounted on a noble animal, of a deep +bay; and a group of young men, in gayer attire, evidently awaited his +pleasure and did his bidding. Many a hat was lifted as its owner +addressed this officer; and when he spoke, a profound attention, +exceeding the respect of mere professional etiquette, was exhibited on +every countenance. At length the general raised his own hat, and bowed +gravely to all around him. The salute was returned, and the party +dispersed, leaving the officer without a single attendant, except his +body servants and one aid-de-camp. Dismounting, he stepped back a few +paces, and for a moment viewed the condition of his horse with the eye +of one who well understood the animal, and then, casting a brief but +expressive glance at his aid, he retired into the building, followed by +that gentleman. + +On entering an apartment that was apparently fitted for his reception, +he took a seat, and continued for a long time in a thoughtful attitude, +like one in the habit of communing much with himself. During this +silence, the aid-de-camp stood in expectation of his orders. At length +the general raised his eyes, and spoke in those low, placid tones that +seemed natural to him. + +“Has the man whom I wished to see arrived, sir?” + +“He waits the pleasure of your excellency.” + +“I will receive him here, and alone, if you please.” + +The aid bowed and withdrew. In a few minutes the door again opened, and +a figure, gliding into the apartment, stood modestly at a distance from +the general, without speaking. His entrance was unheard by the officer, +who sat gazing at the fire, still absorbed in his own meditations. +Several minutes passed, when he spoke to himself in an undertone,— + +“To-morrow we must raise the curtain, and expose our plans. May Heaven +prosper them!” + +A slight movement made by the stranger caught his ear, and he turned +his head, and saw that he was not alone. He pointed silently to the +fire, toward which the figure advanced, although the multitude of his +garments, which seemed more calculated for disguise than comfort, +rendered its warmth unnecessary. A second mild and courteous gesture +motioned to a vacant chair, but the stranger refused it with a modest +acknowledgment. Another pause followed, and continued for some time. At +length the officer arose, and opening a desk that was laid upon the +table near which he sat, took from it a small, but apparently heavy +bag. + +“Harvey Birch,” he said, turning to the stranger, “the time has arrived +when our connection must cease; henceforth and forever we must be +strangers.” + +The peddler dropped the folds of the greatcoat that concealed his +features, and gazed for a moment earnestly at the face of the speaker; +then dropping his head upon his bosom, he said, meekly,— + +“If it be your excellency’s pleasure.” + +“It is necessary. Since I have filled the station which I now hold, it +has become my duty to know many men, who, like yourself, have been my +instruments in procuring intelligence. You have I trusted more than +all; I early saw in you a regard to truth and principle, that, I am +pleased to say, has never deceived me—you alone know my secret agents +in the city, and on your fidelity depend, not only their fortunes, but +their lives.” + +He paused, as if to reflect in order that full justice might be done to +the peddler, and then continued,— + +“I believe you are one of the very few that I have employed who have +acted faithfully to our cause; and, while you have passed as a spy of +the enemy, have never given intelligence that you were not permitted to +divulge. To me, and to me only of all the world, you seem to have acted +with a strong attachment to the liberties of America.” + +During this address, Harvey gradually raised his head from his bosom, +until it reached the highest point of elevation; a faint tinge gathered +in his cheeks, and, as the officer concluded, it was diffused over his +whole countenance in a deep glow, while he stood proudly swelling with +his emotions, but with eyes that sought the feet of the speaker. + +“It is now my duty to pay you for these services; hitherto you have +postponed receiving your reward, and the debt has become a heavy one—I +wish not to undervalue your dangers; here are a hundred doubloons; +remember the poverty of our country, and attribute to it the smallness +of your pay.” + +The peddler raised his eyes to the countenance of the speaker; but, as +the other held forth the money, he moved back, as if refusing the bag. + +“It is not much for your services and risks, I acknowledge,” continued +the general, “but it is all that I have to offer; hereafter, it may be +in my power to increase it.” + +“Does your excellency think that I have exposed my life, and blasted my +character, for money?” + +“If not for money, what then?” + +“What has brought your excellency into the field? For what do you daily +and hourly expose your precious life to battle and the halter? What is +there about me to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for our +country? No, no, no—not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor +America has need of it all!” + +The bag dropped from the hand of the officer, and fell at the feet of +the peddler, where it lay neglected during the remainder of the +interview. The officer looked steadily at the face of his companion, +and continued,— + +“There are many motives which might govern me, that to you are unknown. +Our situations are different; I am known as the leader of armies—but +you must descend into the grave with the reputation of a foe to your +native land. Remember that the veil which conceals your true character +cannot be raised in years—perhaps never.” + +Birch again lowered his face, but there was no yielding of the soul in +the movement. + +“You will soon be old; the prime of your days is already past; what +have you to subsist on?” + +“These!” said the peddler, stretching forth his hands, that were +already embrowned with toil. + +“But those may fail you; take enough to secure a support to your age. +Remember your risks and cares. I have told you that the characters of +men who are much esteemed in life depend on your secrecy; what pledge +can I give them of your fidelity?” + +“Tell them,” said Birch, advancing and unconsciously resting one foot +on the bag, “tell them that I would not take the gold!” + +The composed features of the officer relaxed into a smile of +benevolence, and he grasped the hand of the peddler firmly. + +“Now, indeed, I know you; and although the same reasons which have +hitherto compelled me to expose your valuable life will still exist, +and prevent my openly asserting your character, in private I can always +be your friend; fail not to apply to me when in want or suffering, and +so long as God giveth to me, so long will I freely share with a man who +feels so nobly and acts so well. If sickness or want should ever assail +you and peace once more smile upon our efforts, seek the gate of him +whom you have so often met as Harper, and he will not blush to +acknowledge you.” + +“It is little that I need in this life,” said Harvey; “so long as God +gives me health and honest industry, I can never want in this country; +but to know that your excellency is my friend is a blessing that I +prize more than all the gold of England’s treasury.” + +The officer stood for a few moments in the attitude of intense thought. +He then drew to him the desk, and wrote a few lines on a piece of +paper, and gave it to the peddler. + +“That Providence destines this country to some great and glorious fate +I must believe, while I witness the patriotism that pervades the bosoms +of her lowest citizens,” he said. “It must be dreadful to a mind like +yours to descend into the grave, branded as a foe to liberty; but you +already know the lives that would be sacrificed, should your real +character be revealed. It is impossible to do you justice now, but I +fearlessly intrust you with this certificate; should we never meet +again, it may be serviceable to your children.” + +“Children!” exclaimed the peddler, “can I give to a family the infamy +of my name?” + +The officer gazed at the strong emotion he exhibited with pain, and he +made a slight movement towards the gold; but it was arrested by the +expression of his companion’s face. Harvey saw the intention, and shook +his head, as he continued more mildly,— + +“It is, indeed, a treasure that your excellency gives me: it is safe, +too. There are men living who could say that my life was nothing to me, +compared to your secrets. The paper that I told you was lost I +swallowed when taken last by the Virginians. It was the only time I +ever deceived your excellency, and it shall be the last; yes, this is, +indeed, a treasure to me; perhaps,” he continued, with a melancholy +smile, “it may be known after my death who was my friend; but if it +should not, there are none to grieve for me.” + +“Remember,” said the officer, with strong emotion, “that in me you will +always have a secret friend; but openly I cannot know you.” + +“I know it, I know it,” said Birch; “I knew it when I took the service. +’Tis probably the last time that I shall ever see your excellency. May +God pour down His choicest blessings on your head!” He paused, and +moved towards the door. The officer followed him with eyes that +expressed deep interest. Once more the peddler turned, and seemed to +gaze on the placid, but commanding features of the general with regret +and reverence, and, bowing low, he withdrew. + +The armies of America and France were led by their illustrious +commander against the enemy under Cornwallis, and terminated a campaign +in triumph that had commenced in difficulties. Great Britain soon after +became disgusted with the war; and the States’ independence was +acknowledged. + +As years rolled by, it became a subject of pride among the different +actors in the war, and their descendants, to boast of their efforts in +the cause which had confessedly heaped so many blessings upon their +country; but the name of Harvey Birch died away among the multitude of +agents who were thought to have labored in secret against the rights of +their countrymen. His image, however, was often present to the mind of +the powerful chief, who alone knew his true character; and several +times did he cause secret inquiries to be made into the other’s fate, +one of which only resulted in any success. By this he learned that a +peddler of a different name, but similar appearance, was toiling +through the new settlements that were springing up in every direction, +and that he was struggling with the advance of years and apparent +poverty. Death prevented further inquiries on the part of the officer, +and a long period passed before he was again heard of. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast +The village tyrant of his fields withstood— +Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest; +Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country’s blood. + + +—GRAY. + + +It was thirty-three years after the interview which we have just +related that an American army was once more arrayed against the troops +of England; but the scene was transferred from Hudson’s banks to those +of the Niagara. + +The body of Washington had long lain moldering in the tomb; but as time +was fast obliterating the slight impressions of political enmity or +personal envy, his name was hourly receiving new luster, and his worth +and integrity each moment became more visible, not only to his +countrymen, but to the world. He was already the acknowledged hero of +an age of reason and truth; and many a young heart, amongst those who +formed the pride of our army in 1814, was glowing with the recollection +of the one great name of America, and inwardly beating with the +sanguine expectation of emulating, in some degree, its renown. In no +one were these virtuous hopes more vivid than in the bosom of a young +officer who stood on the table rock, contemplating the great cataract, +on the evening of the 25th of July of that bloody year. The person of +this youth was tall and finely molded, indicating a just proportion +between strength and activity; his deep black eyes were of a searching +and dazzling brightness. At times, as they gazed upon the flood of +waters that rushed tumultuously at his feet, there was a stern and +daring look that flashed from them, which denoted the ardor of an +enthusiast. But this proud expression was softened by the lines of a +mouth around which there played a suppressed archness, that partook of +feminine beauty. His hair shone in the setting sun like ringlets of +gold, as the air from the falls gently moved the rich curls from a +forehead whose whiteness showed that exposure and heat alone had given +their darker hue to a face glowing with health. There was another +officer standing by the side of this favored youth; and both seemed, by +the interest they betrayed, to be gazing, for the first time, at the +wonder of the western world. A profound silence was observed by each, +until the companion of the officer that we have described suddenly +started, and pointing eagerly with his sword into the abyss beneath, +exclaimed,— + +“See! Wharton, there is a man crossing in the very eddies of the +cataract, and in a skiff no bigger than an eggshell.” + +“He has a knapsack—it is probably a soldier,” returned the other. “Let +us meet him at the ladder, Mason, and learn his tidings.” + +Some time was expended in reaching the spot where the adventurer was +intercepted. Contrary to the expectations of the young soldiers, he +proved to be a man far advanced in life, and evidently no follower of +the camp. His years might be seventy, and they were indicated more by +the thin hairs of silver that lay scattered over his wrinkled brow, +than by any apparent failure of his system. His frame was meager and +bent; but it was the attitude of habit, for his sinews were strung with +the toil of half a century. His dress was mean, and manifested the +economy of its owner, by the number and nature of its repairs. On his +back was a scantily furnished pack, that had led to the mistake in his +profession. A few words of salutation, and, on the part of the young +men, of surprise, that one so aged should venture so near the +whirlpools of the cataract, were exchanged; when the old man inquired, +with a voice that began to manifest the tremor of age, the news from +the contending armies. + +“We whipped the redcoats here the other day, among the grass on the +Chippewa plains,” said the one who was called Mason; “since when, we +have been playing hide and go seek with the ships: but we are now +marching back from where we started, shaking our heads, and as surly as +the devil.” + +“Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers,” said his companion, with a +milder demeanor, and an air of kindness; “if so, tell me his name and +regiment, and I will take you to him.” + +The old man shook his head, and, passing his hand over his silver +locks, with an air of meek resignation, he answered,— + +“No; I am alone in the world!” + +“You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie,” cried his careless comrade, +“if you could find either; for nearly half our army has marched down +the road, and may be, by this time, under the walls of Fort George, for +anything that we know to the contrary.” + +The old man stopped suddenly, and looked earnestly from one of his +companions to the other; the action being observed by the soldiers, +they paused also. + +“Did I hear right?” the stranger uttered, raising his hand to screen +his eyes from the rays of the setting sun. “What did he call you?” “My +name is Wharton Dunwoodie,” replied the youth, smiling. The stranger +motioned silently for him to remove his hat, which the youth did +accordingly, and his fair hair blew aside like curls of silk, and +opened the whole of his ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the +other. “’Tis like our native land!” exclaimed the old man with +vehemence, “improving with time; God has blessed both.” “Why do you +stare thus, Lieutenant Mason?” cried Captain Dunwoodie, laughing a +little. “You show more astonishment than when you saw the falls.” “Oh, +the falls!—they are a thing to be looked at on a moonshiny night, by +your Aunt Sarah and that gay old bachelor, Colonel Singleton; but a +fellow like myself never shows surprise, unless it may be at such a +touch as this.” The extraordinary vehemence of the stranger’s manner +had passed away as suddenly as it was exhibited, but he listened to +this speech with deep interest, while Dunwoodie replied, a little +gravely,—“Come, come, Tom, no jokes about my good aunt, I beg; she is +kindness itself, and I have heard it whispered that her youth was not +altogether happy.” “Why, as to rumor,” said Mason, “there goes one in +Accomac, that Colonel Singleton offers himself to her regularly every +Valentine’s day; and there are some who add that your old great-aunt +helps his suit.” “Aunt Jeanette!” said Dunwoodie, laughing. “Dear, good +soul, she thinks but little of marriage in any shape, I believe, since +the death of Dr. Sitgreaves. There were some whispers of a courtship +between them formerly, but it ended in nothing but civilities, and I +suspect that the whole story arises from the intimacy of Colonel +Singleton and my father. You know they were comrades in the horse, as +indeed was your own father.” + +“I know all that, of course; but you must not tell me that the +particular, prim bachelor goes so often to General Dunwoodie’s +plantation merely for the sake of talking old soldier with your father. +The last time I was there, that yellow, sharp-nosed housekeeper of your +mother’s took me into the pantry, and said that the colonel was no +despisable match, as she called it, and how the sale of his plantation +in Georgia had brought him—oh, Lord! I don’t know how much.” + +“Quite likely,” returned the captain, “Katy Haynes is no bad +calculator.” + +They had stopped during this conversation, in uncertainty whether their +new companion was to be left or not. + +The old man listened to each word as it was uttered, with the most +intense interest; but, towards the conclusion of the dialogue, the +earnest attention of his countenance changed to a kind of inward smile. +He shook his head, and, passing his hands over his forehead, seemed to +be thinking of other times. Mason paid but little attention to the +expression of his features, and continued,— + +“To me, she is selfishness embodied!” + +“Her selfishness does but little harm,” returned Dunwoodie. “One of her +greatest difficulties is her aversion to the blacks. She says that she +never saw but one she liked.” + +“And who was he?” + +“His name was Caesar; he was a house servant of my late grandfather +Wharton. You don’t remember him, I believe; he died the same year with +his master, while we were children. Katy yearly sings his requiem, and, +upon my word, I believe he deserved it. I have heard something of his +helping my English uncle, as we call General Wharton, in some +difficulty that occurred in the old war. My mother always speaks of him +with great affection. Both Caesar and Katy came to Virginia with my +mother when she married. My mother was—” + +“An angel!” interrupted the old man, in a voice that startled the young +soldiers by its abruptness and energy. + +“Did you know her?” cried the son, with a glow of pleasure on his +cheek. + +The reply of the stranger was interrupted by sudden and heavy +explosions of artillery, which were immediately followed by continued +volleys of small arms, and in a few minutes the air was filled with the +tumult of a warm and well-contested battle. + +The two soldiers hastened with precipitation towards the camp, +accompanied by their new acquaintance. The excitement and anxiety +created by the approaching fight prevented a continuance of the +conversation, and the three held their way to the army, making +occasional conjectures on the cause of the fire, and the probability of +a general engagement. During their short and hurried walk, Captain +Dunwoodie, however, threw several friendly glances at the old man, who +moved over the ground with astonishing energy for his years, for the +heart of the youth was warmed by an eulogium on a mother that he +adored. In a short time they joined the regiment to which the officers +belonged, when the captain, squeezing the stranger’s hand, earnestly +begged that he would make inquiries after him on the following morning, +and that he might see him in his own tent. Here they separated. + +Everything in the American camp announced an approaching struggle. At a +distance of a few miles, the sound of cannon and musketry was heard +above the roar of the cataract. The troops were soon in motion, and a +movement made to support the division of the army which was already +engaged. Night had set in before the reserve and irregulars reached the +foot of Lundy’s Lane, a road that diverged from the river and crossed a +conical eminence, at no great distance from the Niagara highway. The +summit of this hill was crowned with the cannon of the British, and in +the flat beneath was the remnant of Scott’s gallant brigade, which for +a long time had held an unequal contest with distinguished bravery. A +new line was interposed, and one column of the Americans directed to +charge up the hill, parallel to the road. This column took the English +in flank, and, bayoneting their artillerists, gained possession of the +cannon. They were immediately joined by their comrades, and the enemy +was swept from the hill. But large reenforcements were joining the +English general momentarily, and their troops were too brave to rest +easy under the defeat. Repeated and bloody charges were made to recover +the guns, but in all they were repulsed with slaughter. During the last +of these struggles, the ardor of the youthful captain whom we have +mentioned urged him to lead his men some distance in advance, to +scatter a daring party of the enemy. He succeeded, but in returning to +the line missed his lieutenant from the station that he ought to have +occupied. Soon after this repulse, which was the last, orders were +given to the shattered troops to return to the camp. The British were +nowhere to be seen, and preparations were made to take in such of the +wounded as could be moved. At this moment Wharton Dunwoodie, impelled +by affection for his friend, seized a lighted fusee, and taking two of +his men went himself in quest of his body, where he was supposed to +have fallen. Mason was found on the side of the hill, seated with great +composure, but unable to walk from a fractured leg. Dunwoodie saw and +flew to the side of his comrade, saying,— + +“Ah! dear Tom, I knew I should find you the nearest man to the enemy.” + +“Softly, softly; handle me tenderly,” replied the lieutenant. “No, +there is a brave fellow still nearer than myself, and who he can be I +know not. He rushed out of our smoke, near my platoon, to make a +prisoner or some such thing, but, poor fellow, he never came back; +there he lies just over the hillock. I have spoken to him several +times, but I fancy he is past answering.” + +Dunwoodie went to the spot, and to his astonishment beheld the aged +stranger. + +“It is the old man who knew my mother!” cried the youth. “For her sake +he shall have honorable burial; lift him, and let him be carried in; +his bones shall rest on native soil.” + +The men approached to obey. He was lying on his back, with his face +exposed to the glaring light of the fusee; his eyes were closed, as if +in slumber; his lips, sunken with years, were slightly moved from their +natural position, but it seemed more like a smile than a convulsion +which had caused the change. A soldier’s musket lay near him; his hands +were pressed upon his breast, and one of them contained a substance +that glittered like silver. Dunwoodie stooped, and removing the limbs, +perceived the place where the bullet had found a passage to his heart. +The subject of his last care was a tin box, through which the fatal +lead had gone; and the dying moments of the old man must have passed in +drawing it from his bosom. Dunwoodie opened it, and found a paper in +which, to his astonishment, he read the following:— + +“Circumstances of political importance, which involve the lives and +fortunes of many, have hitherto kept secret what this paper now +reveals. Harvey Birch has for years been a faithful and unrequited +servant of his country. Though man does not, may God reward him for his +conduct!” + + +GEO. WASHINGTON. + + +It was the SPY OF THE NEUTRAL GROUND, who died as he had lived, devoted +to his country, and a martyr to her liberties. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spy, by James Fenimore Cooper + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPY *** + +***** This file should be named 9845-0.txt or 9845-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/4/9845/ + +Produced by PG Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. 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